he came named

In 2003, I worked at a horse farm; I did everything—you name it—including mucking out every one of the 30+ stalls every day. I often had a little friend with me, a black and white kitty that was full of vim and vigor. He would ride on the “prow” of my wheelbarrow and occasionally jump up on my back for a rest.  He would try to stop the flow of water when the hose dripped in the barn, batting at it with his perpetually-bright-white paws. It was so cute that it would dribble past him, and he’d back up and scramble to put a “stop” to the “creature”. His history was tragic; his little siblings were killed in a car engine when they crawled into the engine block for warmth. Lucky, however, was found in time and hence the name: Suerte. He didn’t keep the cultured form of his name, though, due to a stereotyping boss. So, we have Lucky—he came named.

When I left the farm for another job, we left him there for a while. He was happy, running around like any good barn cat, and we ended up just “stealing” him in April 2005. I remember bringing him home {to 1246 Cedar Street} and forcing him to get a bath to get rid of the barn stink. He was wide-eyed and panicky, and he hid for days under our bed before he decided he wanted to socialize. He did, eventually, and by July he had the run of the neighborhood. We brought him a little companion, and she promptly stole all his food. We had to separate them when we would feed them, and he often got left in the pantry because we forgot to let him back out.  They would climb to the top of the cabinets in the kitchen to watch from their lofty positions the goings-ons in the house.

They were a fun little team, but when we got orders to Japan, we knew the little girl wouldn’t be very happy to go, so we gave her to a family nearby. Lucky, however, made it. The whole 40+ hour trip he slept, except for a brief crying spell in the line for Customs. We had to keep him upstairs and inside all the time in our new apartment in Japan, though, and he was not happy with the situation. He came home with me to Pennsylvania in 2007, and he stayed there when I went back to Japan. He lived it up in his favorite place yet: Woolrich. He had the run of the neighborhood again, and he loved it. He also put the older cat AND dog in their places, and was often found sleeping in the dog’s oversized bed, in the middle, by himself, while the dog looked on wistfully. He continued his decimation of the small rodent population in PA and brought prizes back for the family to applaud him for. When we moved back to America, he stayed with the family until we found a place to live, and he joined us in Tuckerton in March 2009. Again, he had the rule of the street, and he liked this town since he was near the water and there were plenty of small animals to stalk. We moved to another few apartments in the interim between moving into our house, and he went back to Woolrich for a while. He loved being back; you could tell because he wouldn’t even give you the time of day until he was ready to come sleep on your lap.

We moved into 306 Ash in August 2010, and Lucky moved in, too. He was greeted 6 weeks later with a small, loud thing, who he knew as the “smallest one”. For his part, Lucky ignored Raegan until she was bigger; only on the rarest of occasions would we find him sleeping in her room—on her chair—while she napped in her crib. He was keeping an eye on her, you know. As Rae got bigger, she became more and more aware of him, and her very first squeal of the day was often directed at him. He was her favorite! She knew he was the “kitty” and that his hair tickled her. She got into a habit, not that long ago, of putting her face on soft things, and I would find her holding his side and putting her face on him. He really was the softest kitty, ever, and very tolerant of rae, especially if there would be chicken treats involved. He was present for everything, every meal, every party, every nighttime tv show would find him underfoot or on a lap. He was at Rae’s party hanging out with the kids the night before he went missing. And his legend lives on, we don’t know for sure, but it seems most likely that he was hit on our road.

However, I want to leave this note, just saying that I found two—not one, but two—four-leafed, lucky clovers yesterday. In succession, and inexplicably. I have to think it was a “sign,” and that my little buddy, my soupie-soup, had a good run, a full life. I’m going to miss you, little bud. 

Endnote: sorry for the photo dump, but I had to post this today, so I can finally stop crying every time I work on this draft. Losing a pet stinks :(

ten months

Our favorite things at 10 months:
1. Crossed ankles {everywhere, including in the high chair and stroller}
2. Curling hair {at the nape of your neck and over your ears}
3. Your noises {gully-gully, liel-liel-liel} and your tongue-in-and-out all the time and your singing {you sing whenever you hear music and always in the stroller}
4. Crawling {you just started last week and now you’re getting smoother and more confident every minute}
5. Tootsie roll legs {daddy says that they look like the rolls you get when you shmoosh a tootsie roll together}
6. Fast and slow speeds at walking {depending on whether someone is chasing you}
7. Reaching for us when you’re scared or tired or upset
8. Funny dancer – leaning back and forth to the music
9. Insatiable appetite {you make us proud}
10. Belly laugh and quick grin {you smile at everyone, and love to give us sugar, but you love your own picture and mirrors and other little people the best}

we heart you.
I took some pictures of you with 10 blueberries, because it's what you love at the moment.
You ate them before I could take the picture.

mother's day, the first

We woke up to glorious sunshine streaming in the bedroom windows, and I was surprised with a trio of gifts from my favorite people on a mommy’s most favorite day of the year. Phil bought me a 20 pound iron skillet, something I’ve asked for and wanted to get for a long time. He also got my knives in order with a sharpener and also bought a new candle. He and Rae were very proud of their offerings, and I was super excited by [their] thoughtfulness. We went in to Ocean City for church and came home.
I love our second story bedroom. It’s got this vibe, this calm oasis feeling, even amid the undecorated walls, the lack of “master bed” and the “trophy” of a bathroom we’re hanging on to {we have to save something so people know what the house was like before we moved in}. Still, the master bedroom has double doors that open up onto a romeo balcony, and has a high, lofted ceiling. The feeling just calls to me—and makes me feel as if I’m in a tree house, safe, and princess-like. My mother’s day activity of choice was a family nap in said princess room. Raegan, bless her heart, will only sleep in her crib, so it was mostly a mommy-daddy nap in the big room, but we all napped simultaneously.
Then, we went to our handy-dandy Italian joint down the street for dinner, where I had eggplant on a bed of spinach {delicious!} even if it’s not Giada de Laurentiis.
I love this job, being a mom. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, and it doesn’t get old or bothersome. I often thought, pre-baby, that it might become a drag day-after-day to take care of a small person and meet their every need, but so far, so good. I like to say that my joy meter fills up overnight while Rae sleeps, and all day we just enjoy our time together. By the time I would need a “break”, its nigh-nigh time, and she gives us a breather to be adults for a few minutes. Then the cycle starts again, and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. She completes me; she completes Phil and I both. But it’s not Father’s Day yet, so let’s just say that this Mother’s Day was everything I wanted it to be, more than I expected, and more than I deserve.

And here's some random photos, just because.

 

 

I had to:

 

of notes and notebooks

 

Would you believe it? Raegan is 7 months old! Now before I panic that we have “done nothing” to remember the passing of these first few months, I have to share my “notebook”. I have a hunter green, crocodile skin notebook that I took on a whim to the hospital with me, and since I have written to Raegan weekly about her life—since I assume she won’t be able to remember much. Phil and I both wrote to her on the occasion of her birth, and then I write in little snippets on each new week. We’re presently at 32 weeks, and so much growth has taken place in our little baby doll. She’s now 17 pounds, 2 oz and 26 inches long, right in the middle for everything percentile-wise. She’s teething, and has been for the last 5 weeks. Still no little nubs yet. This was an epic week, though, since she “witnessed” the Royal Wedding and Osama bin Laden’s demise. I write all these things in for her; it’s my version of a baby book since—for some reason—we didn’t start one or even have one to start when she was small. My inspiration came from one of my favorite and most special things—a notebook my dad kept when my mom was delivering me—complete with contraction times—and the last page turns over and says: “It’s a girl! Abigail Jean!”
So, to provide the same sentimental rememberings for Rae, I write in her book. This week’s entry will be something like: Her latest trick is “sideways head” where she considers something she’s looking at, and quizzically turns her head to the side—just like a dog. She just figured out she can feed herself delicious puffs. When she’s done with a bottle, she done, and there’s nothing you can do to convince her otherwise. Her hair will not lay down flat, it’s just the right length to stick straight up in the back. But, it is a glorious golden brown color, and her eyes are every bit as blue as they were when she was born. She snuggles a bit more now, especially when I dance around with her. She recognizes her daddy from far away, and gets very excited to see him coming. “Momomomom” is her sound of choice when something is distressing her, go figure.
But, regardless, she is the absolute best and is about the most flexible baby I’ve ever been around. Not as in gymnastics, but in demeanor. We need to shuttle her off to friends’ homes for the days I’m at work: boom, she’s fine. We decide to go to a street fair in a busy city, and she’ll only get one nap: boom, she’s fine. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents want to see her and hold her and play with her on Easter: boom, she’s fine. She’s a game little darling {in the American sense of the word game} and we love that about her. We’re just about to give her an even bigger test of her game-ness (not to be confused with gaminess) when we head south to Cayman, the Grand in about three weeks to see her godparents.

Happy Family – (what exactly is that on a Chinese menu?!)

Oh dear. Oh dear, dear. We are SORELY in need of an update, as I look at pictures of the nursery for the then-unnamed baby from my last post. How much has changed and become better in the time since, in every area of our lives! We have Raegan around now, and she’s truly the delight of our existence. We’re such a happy family.

I’m back to work, my first week back, and it’s been rough. I’m trying to gain approval for some extra work from home time, but so far have met with opposition. I get to stay home on Thursdays. We have a nanny, Dana, taking great care of Raegan during the day, and then Phil gets to spend a full day at home with her on Fridays.

Our weekends are our favorites: we make a big family breakfast (for the adults, anyway) watch college football, work on the house, and just enjoy being together. We’re really seeing personality come through for Rae; she is smiling and making cute noises and likes to stick her tongue out at us. She’s 8 and a half weeks old now.

Her whole birth and the subsequent weeks I wrote and noted in a journal for her sake and mine. We had quite a time getting her to sleep, so up until 5 weeks, we just survived day by day. Thankfully, she is a good baby, and really went with the flow, even if she is the most alert baby in the entire universe. We started Babywise with her then, and since we’ve steadily gotten better with routines and sleep. She’s slept through the night a few times, and generally does really well with her nighttime sleep. It’s the daily naps that she doesn’t like!

This week is a wonder week, where her little system is growing and developing by leaps and bounds. She is even less inclined to sleep right now, so her poor daddy is trying all he can to keep her happy while they’re home together today. It’s just a phase, so hopefully next week will be a new leaf. She’s due for her two month check up on Monday, so we’ll keep notes on how much she’s grown! She’s a tall little thing, already.
I promise to keep this source updated much more frequently!

she

She’s on her way. It’s official, the newest baby Douglass is a girl. To most, that is old news, but to her daddy and I, we’re slowly digesting this. We had such a great weekend, and every bit of the planning and figuring out how to make the babycake happen was worth it. I have to thank my mom and mother-in-law and sister-in-law for making quite an effort to make the event so much fun! Everyone contributed an item reflecting what gender they guessed. We got some adorable things, and even the boy items will just wait (alongside a few other things) in the Armoire Drawer. The “girl guessers” were right, though.



The instant we cut the cake (complete with wedding-cake-united-hand-pose) the entire collective audience “leaned in” because at first the icing looked white! (can we say "pregnant pause"?) The pale pink was enough though and somebody said “GIRL!”



Such a great moment. Me and the daddy had to hold each other for just a minute because it was precious and so real now.



There’s a “she” in my belly and it’s been really fun to be able to talk about her. Out of the six of us due in September, five of us are having girls (and one is having boy/girl twins). It was the best thing to all be pregnant at the same time, but now to be having girls all together, well, that’s just phenomenal. It makes me really happy. (the only downside is that none of our kids can marry each other, though *wink*)

Many happy pink thoughts! I reiterate:

pure bliss

Inspired by this site, I wanted to write a quick thought on what makes me blissful. There was plenty of it today, so sharing is no difficult feat.

1. I love this chair
I have a very deep love for all things British, from Beckham to buttered scones.



2. I love this wedding idea

It makes me want to get married all over again; I even proposed to my sweet husband on Facebook today. Isn’t that nice?

3. I love that my haircut is being redeemed. See this link

4. I love, love, love my family.



5. I love the funny little pokes I’m feeling in the belly region and I love the names we’ve picked out. And no. We’re not telling. Anyone. Don’t even bother asking. :)

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day. Psalm 139.16

What’s your bliss today?

dilemma

I’m having a dilemma.

We decided to do a baby gender cake way back when to find out “all together” what we’re having. This is a great idea and could be potentially a great moment in our family history, however I find myself with a case of the snobby-tastebud.

Unsure as to what that is?

Well, call us—the man and me—food snobs. Blame it on the fact that we both had moms who were and are ridiculous cooks and bakers. (It even goes back further to other generations!) The pressure was on when we got married, and I’m happy to say that I’m not too shabby in the kitchen now.
However, because of our over-developed palate, we know a good cake versus a bad one. This ordering business is creating quite a problem. I feel the need to sample every bakery’s offerings before deeming it worthy to create something as important as my baby’s gender-revealing cake (I mean that in a strictly platonic way, certainly not literal. In that case, it would be a diaper—wait, that’s a funny idea.)

In any case, I really just want our traditional family chocolate cake with a line of blue or pink icing in the center. However, nobody can know (i.e. make the cake!) within the realm of the family, and family is who makes the best cakes! Such a to-do.
All searches have so far turned up the underqualified (i.e. grocery) the overpriced (philadelphia area custom cakes) and the unknown (the corner bakery, named for someone who may or may not own the shop…)

Any suggestions? I’m begging for crumbs!

photo credit to the Tillman baby cake unveiling!

Update: we've got a solution and a third party cake decorator to fix all of this for us. So, thanks to some creative finagling by Grandma Gaunt and Mom, we're set for the baby cake!

Gutted

It started as a bummer of a week; gutted being the word of choice I'd use to describe it.

I remember a Far Side Cartoon I saw at my grandparents' house when I was little: the animation was of two deer, standing next to each other and the one said to the other: “Bummer of a birthmark, Hal”. “Hal” had a red, target bullseye on his belly: perfect aim for the attentive hunter.

Yep, a bummer.

I was seriously gutted when my favorite soccer player, David Beckham, tore his Achilles tendon this week, effectively ruling him out of competing in his fourth World Cup later this year. I love that family—a post for another day—but I was honestly gutted. Love how that applies.

It would have been the perfect week—if I think I know more than God—to find out that we finally, finally got the house we’re waiting for.

But, thankfully, I am not God. I do have a plug, though, for which I’m grateful, but the timing is still “not yet”.

Bummers are things that happen just because they can. They don’t change your life in a tangible or unretractable way, but they hurt nonetheless.

They are the mechanic bill to fix a problem that’s supposedly been fixed three times.

They’re the disappointment of missing an Irish dinner on Saint Patty’s Day because you weren’t on the list at the restaurant because you didn't know.

They’re being in transition and not having all your utensils available to make cupcakes because you already packed them.

They’re missing being home with beloved siblings visiting over spring break.

They’re seeing the last vestiges of life slip out of your pants because your waistline is getting too big to fit anymore.

Wait—that’s not a bummer—

Especially when it’s due to the fact that it means your baby is growing. . .

Then the Lord sent me this in my email inbox. “When God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work -- this is a gift of God.” Eccl. 5:19.

Yes, He said, this has been a bummer week, but you’ve almost gotten through it! And it’s 70 degrees out! And you did make cupcakes! And you have an amazing family and friends who all really like you! It’s only money, time, and convenience that you’re sad over, and all those things belong to Me anyway.

Oh.
I was really thankful for that reminder. I wasn’t bummed at all that He got me on that one.
To really push the point home, He sent this for me to read. Be warned, you will cry: once again, I was gutted. The pictures say 1000 words and the writing is divinely inspired. I’m not bummed; I’m thankful.

What are you thankful or grateful for this week?