Don't hold your breath

Nope, there is no news. Just some photos of Morgen going about her only-child life over the last two weeks. Morgen has been busy making art with friends, learning to be nice to the cat (who is beginning to accept her as one of his pack), learning that baby sister's toys are going to be fun to play with, and learning that a pair of sunglasses makes an old outfit seem brand new.

And me? I've been progressively less productive and increasingly prone to long naps. And yesterday the doctor suggested that I could try jumping up and down if I was feeling impatient. I think he was kidding, but since he didn't follow the suggestion up with anything that sounded more reasonable, I have some doubts...

Count Down

It's official - I'm 36 weeks pregnant today. I've been looking back at early pictures of Morgen, and trying to remember through the haze of sleep deprivation and anxiety that was my first few months of motherhood what it felt like to take care of someone so small.

Here, for instance, is a picture of Morgen at two months. She was just about to discover that the taste of her hand was good. And her head was developing the largest case of cradle cap I'd. Ever. Seen. And she's so different now, increasingly capable of surprising us every day. I wonder what new joys and discoveries await us with baby number two, and I hope that we'll be able to avoid some of the trauma and anxiety associated with newborn care now that we've been there once already.

I'm guessing and hoping that labour will be quite different. Morgen was more than two weeks overdue, and had to be induced, which led us far off the comfy pages of our idealistic birth plan and into unexplored territory featuring lots of straps, monitors, drugs (ahhh, drugs) and IV lines. My feet were so swollen by the end of the day that neither the slippers nor the shoes I'd packed would fit. I think I walked out by folding the heels of my shoes over, but again, it's all so hard to remember that I may be making that up.

Two nights ago I dreamed that I gave birth to our new little girl, and I couldn't feel a thing. When she came out she was smiling and so obviously healthy. I had to stop the doctors from shaking her (they wanted to make her cry) but otherwise it was glorious. Fantasy or potential reality? Who cares - it was a fabulous dream, far better than one I remember dreaming while I was in highschool. In that one, the child was born with the legs of a chicken and immediately scrambled away from the doctors in order to bounce all over the room...a dream dictionary I consulted (a very authoritative edition, I'm sure) informed me that babies often represent creative projects in dreams...when the dreamer isn't actually pregnant that is (and I wasn't at the time, I can assure you). And the story of my youthful chicken-legged creative project is a story I can tell you over some alcoholic beverage sometime - assuming I can ever have one of those again.

So, does anyone have any intuitions about the timing of Baby Hammel number two? Am I looking at having the baby at week 37 or week 42? Any advice for me, moms of more than one? I and my subconscious self await your input.

Our Little Helper

These days Morgen wants to help with everything. She helps us carry used handcloths to the laundry bag. She helps us cook. And most recently, she has become fascinated with the broom. Here is her first solo attempt at sweeping. Enjoy!

Lady Bug Likes to Look

What's better than rediscovering the joys of your Hallowe'en costume? Watching your alter ego hurdle across the tiny, not-so-silver screen. Lady bug, lady bug...jump, jump, jump!

It's getting very difficult to capture video of Morgen doing anything. As soon as the camera comes out, she runs to the videographer's shoulder, leans in, and says "See Morgen!! More Morgen!!" Of course, with Morgen behind the camera, there isn't much of interest in front of it...although I suppose the shots of abandoned toys strewn across the living room floor do make a sort of statement.

Morgen and the pants

Morgen is a funny, in-between size right now. She's too big for the twelve-month pants, and too small for most eighteen-month pants. So we run out of workable outfits pretty quickly, and we need to do laundry more often than we'd like. Enter the jumper. Somehow we always save these things for our last desperate attempts at dressing her before we cave and do the laundry.

When Morgen was small, before she could jump, or walk, we had a pink jumper that we loved to put her in. It was warm, and it was cute. Ok, it was still pink, but as I've said before, I've given up on avoiding pink things...mostly. The point is, it was a jumper, and it fit her for a very long time through many of her earlier awkward growing stages. Let's call it Pinky.

We now have two jumpers that we bought second hand at the same place that gave us Pinky. Morgen likes the red one, but she has worn it so often that it has developed a small tear that I need to mend...and if I can't be bothered to do laundry, I'm certainly not going to get right on that domestic chore...Morgen dislikes the other one, the blue flowery number pictured here. I can't imagine why. Oh, wait, maybe because it's a little odd-looking?? At any rate, she refused to put it on this morning until I told her it was a special outfit called a "jumper" that is made to help people jump higher. If there is one thing Morgen likes, it's jumping. Should I still be feeling guilty for sending her to school in something she didn't want to wear? Or for manipulating her into putting it on in the first place?

We have a friend who's first born child refused to keep clothes on for about the first three years of his life. Visits with them were always fun, and usually included this little person gradually disrobing to the point of complete nakedness (no diaper even) while doing more and more gymnastics about the living room. Morgen has lately wanted to get rid of extra layers, for example, she insisted on taking her dress off this weekend (after all, she had tights and a shirt underneath it), wants to stay naked after her bath (doesn't even like the towel, which she used to enjoy) and this morning's incident may be an indication of struggles to come. She's becoming more particular about what goes on her in the first place. I'm guessing that the number of "special" outfits I can come up with will not match her will to assert control over her clothes. So, should I give up now? Maybe I'll just do the laundry tonight. Or maybe I'll just sew up her red jumper. Decisions, decisions.