Happy Birthday Peanut!

and ¡Feliz Cumpleaños! too

Wherever does the time go...
Love you Peanut.

Birthday Baptism Bash - Part 1

Birthday 1 - The Actual Day

It started with a crown.

My mom, heretofore known as Abuelita, came the day before in order to be with Peanut on her birthday start to finish. As soon as she heard Peanut's stirrings, she ran in to sing Happy Birthday and so the celebrations began. Allowing her to finish her breakfast, in short order Abuelita had pulled this lovely topper out of her bag and Peanut went straight to royalty. 

Now I didn't think it would last. 

We can put a hat on Peanut's head to protect her from the sun, and if she is not immediately distracted that hat is off within .25 seconds. In fact, we can barely comb the girl's hair without her reaching up and grabbing to use the comb herself (which, perhaps deeply surprisingly, rarely results in combed hair). So I figured this crown, made of curly ribbon and wiry stars was a fun gesture on Abuelita's part, but one that would require some lightening fast fingers on the shutter of my camera to catch an actual photo of it on her head.

I could not have been more wrong. Peanut kept that thing on allllll day.

Sometimes she would toy with it... 

 

And once in a while she would lend it to someone else...

But by and large the girl kept that thing on all day - fascinated I tell you.

Most of the morning and early afternoon were spent doofing around (in a crown), waiting for Papi to get back from Cartagena with Nanny and Grandad. When looking at herself in the mirror got old, climbing in and out of and on top of Abuelita's suitcase became the order of the day. Because Abuelita's bedroom is also called the living room, there was not a lot of space for her to be private, but the upside was that she got to introduce Peanut to the wonders of make-up brushes.

Since Peanut's mom does not actually know what to do with a makeup brush, 

someone was going to have to step in at some point. 

 

 I will note that it is possible the lesson did not fully take as 

"brush-cap-as-musical-instrument" was an equally popular choice.

Once Nanny and Grandad arrived, we deemed it time to celebrate. And what better to celebrate with? 

Why, Cheerwine, of course. 

She looks like she just loves it, right?

 

We talked a lot about what happened a year ago on the 22nd, and noted that Peanut was way to big to return from whence she came, hard as she might try.

And even though the official party was scheduled for the 25th, no one wanted to miss out on this special day. 

We donned the birthday girl shirt and obviously requisite tutu and invited over the rest of the family. 

 So with Tía Jacky (also fondly, and very appropriately known as Tía Mala...), 

Abuelo Alex and Abuela Fanny, we cheered for the birthday bean.

Papi made a scrumptious flan, we sang, we clapped, and we laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Though the prize was well worth it, I am giving September 22, 2011 significantly higher marks than 2010.

But it ain't over yet folks. It ain't over yet.

Video Viernes

Oh, and I forgot to mention one teensy detail.

Peanut is walking...

Ode to a Fork

A FORK. How did it take me this long to think of A FORK?

Peanut is a great eater. She only has four teeth, but they do a looooot of work. (She has actually given me quite a lot of hope for the culinary delights I can still experience in my older years when my teeth mostly fall out.) She eats all types of fruits and has chowed down recently on portobello mushrooms with vegetable filling, rice and beans with peppers and corn, and open faced tuna fish and pineapple sandwiches. I am shoving in everything I can while it is still easily accepted so that when we enter the chicken fingers and french fries era (translated perhaps to the fried plantains (patacones) and empanada phase), she will have a strong base of green veggies on which to pile said mounds of oil and fats.

Anyway, she eats well, but is often very invested in active participation in the eating endeavor. For months we have given her a spoon and tried to avoid overt cringing as food poured down her front or flipped down onto the floor to the delight of ant scouts sent to camp at the foot of her high chair. She has been able to get the spoon to her mouth for a while, but rarely did it manage to actually have food on it when it arrived. Until...voila!...the fork.

We actually only got a fork recently as one of her birthday presents, so there is some excuse for our not considering it as an option, but ah these past days have been magical. It is in this heart-warming, enchanting spirit that I offer you:

Ode to a Fork

Oh thou gift to me dear fork -

Food, once speared, to my mouth arrives!

Though my mother feared faint punctures to my sweet skin,

Thy pleasant tickle on my cheek merely encourages me anew.

Your zest in that dish of watermelon,

The funny way you turn my avocado into guacamole,

It brings a smile to my face to see you at work.

Grace is sometimes lacking in our efforts,

My excitement never wanes.

To you I will always turn.

What mere spoon could compete with your form and function?

On to the veggie pancakes.

Let us conquer together those grains of rice.

Yogurt may be hard,

But in the end we will triumph.

Cumpleaños Craziness

Last week Peanut was invited to her first ever Colombian birthday party.

Okay...technically that is not true. She was invited to Papi's birthday party first, which he shared with two Colombians who were born on the same day, but since she went to bed before anyone really showed up I am not sure that counts. Plus, his party did not have a jump house...nor live Disney characters...nor boy/girl cupcakes with individual flags in each one for each guest...nor a snack bar with redeemable "coupons"...nor, hold on a minute, I am getting faint again.

You see, last week was a first birthday party - as in a party for a little girl turning one year old. I remain very grateful for having been invited, but the whole experience just about gave me hives. How to explain...

Evidently 1 year birthdays are a big thing here. Quinceñeras (for those turning 15) are bigger still, but, I am told, any other year you can just share some cake with family but the first year and the 15th you have to do more. I am not clear about whether this cause for celebration stems from the fact that making it to one year most likely means you are really going to stick around, or if it has no such serious underpinnings. What I do know is that I am clearly in over my head and may have to hide about four months from now.

The party began at 4:30pm and there were easily 60 people there of all ages. The theme was Mickey and Minnie mouse, with all the girls getting Minnie invitations and all the boys Mickey ones. There were Minnie ears (as modeled by Peanut above) and Mickey ears. There were Minnie party favors, and Micky ones; blue and pink cupcakes; even the ribbon on the aforementioned snack bar items was gender coded.  There must have been 100 balloons in varying arrangements of flowers and festive flair - all pink and white, it was a girl's birthday after all.

We knew we were at the right house because when we drove by there were a ton of people in chairs in the street (see over my shoulder), safe from passing traffic because they were shielded by a lane-wide blow up jumpy castle (sadly not available in pink). Music was at def-con 5, and it was turned down only to do party games with kids that included turns for girls and boys (separately) to dance for the crowd for prizes. If you are picturing silly jumping little beans, you have not been to a child's birthday party recently enough...at least not around here. Eight-year-olds were moving their hips and shaking their butts to songs that I do not want played at my own party. It was nothing that hasn't been put up on YouTube or discussed ad nauseum about the "All the Single Ladies" dance recital number, but it felt different to face it with my daughter in my arms. One day that sweet face is going to look around and think that jumping and moving any which way is not okay anymore because the girls beside her are all running their hands down their sides and pouting their lips, and so help me I will cry that day.

Besides the fact that all this makes me throw up in my mouth a little, I simply do not have the energy to do all that I saw. Nor is it the way I want to spend the money we have, especially on a day she is not even going to remember. The party was a great success. I remain grateful for being included. I am just not sure what to do come September.

Mmmmm....Solids...

I keep thinking I am going to find time to really get some good posts up for you. I imagine having a post up every other day, or at least once a week. And then the water goes out unexpectedly (today), Peanut sleeps for a total of 20 daytime minutes (yesterday), or who knows what the heck else. Then I start to feel badly and avoid the blog. Or I have so many thoughts backed up that I need to call a plumber because I can't figure out where to start unplugging them.

So, in my desire to at least get SOMETHING to you all. I present...solids. They made their way into our lives a few weeks ago, and nothing has been the same. Cereal, carrots, bananas, auyama (a squash), guayava (a fruit), and next...avocado. It's a wild and crazy world down here.

 

So I gnaw on this big plastic thing, right?

Ohhh, I gnaw on this little plastic thing...

Hey, that ain't half bad!

What? What's wrong?

 

 

 

 

To appropriately address this solids thing, I do still need to note two things:

1. When the doctor suggested we start solids it was at her 5 month appointment when he informed me we were now to give her soup instead of her mid-day milk. 

"Soup?" I said incredulously. 

(Not to mention, "Soup?", like "What the heck do you mean by that, and how do I make it?").

"You know," he said (as I internally rolled my eyes), "you take some carrots, squash, chicken, other stuff but I am pretty sure I just zoned out at that point, and you liquify it and give it to her. You know, soup."

Yeah, so that didn't happen. Just too much of a cultural leap for me I am afraid. I really buy into the whole testing foods out one at a time to figure out if there is an allergic reaction kind of thing. I'm clear that 44 million people here are doing just fine jumping into soup. It's not them; it's me. I can accept that.

2. I am now making my own baby food. They don't really have jars of baby food down here except fruits (which seem like about the easiest thing to make from scratch), so I have now been pureeing food and freezing it in ice cube containers for later use. This may not seem like a big deal to many of you (because you did this, because it can't be that hard Mamie, or whatever), but I want you to stop for one moment and remember how much I like to cook even for myself. 

Yeah. 

Especially for those of you who lived with me during college, I know you are in awe right now. Thank you.

Don't Hold Your Breath Either

It seems that Peanut is taking his/her claim on Colombia (and Colombian time) very seriously because it seems super unlikely that we will have any big events on Tuesday.  I know that due dates are always estimates, and this one perhaps even more than most given that there has always been a little uncertainty on where we should even peg the supposed date in the first place.  All I'm saying is...I wouldn't hold your breath.

When we went to the OB office on Friday there was no contraction in sight on the monitor and zero dilation, hence, Peanut is unlikely to make an appearance on the 21st.  The good news is that the hemorrhoids are way down, no pain, and I am allowed to walk around more now.  Way to go on the shrinking songs/prayers etc. y'all!  Don't stop now though, this ain't over yet.

2 Kg in 2 Weeks...Do Not Try this at Home

I am officially no longer worried about Peanut's weight gain.  

For the first 7 1/2 months I had a pretty low-key belly.  Through at least 6 1/2 months it often depended on what I was wearing as to whether folks even thought I had anything going on around there or not.  This was not good news for bus rides, but otherwise I just took it as par for the course for me.  I was a little worried because all the books say that you should gain around 25 lbs over the course of your pregnancy (more or less, of course), and they spoke of 2 lbs a month (with extra toward the end).  

I recognize now that this was perhaps a mere mathematical trick, trying to make it seem like there was a logical progression to this whole pregnancy gig.  Still, I was nervous because having started out at about 62 kg, I was only at 68 kg even just two weeks ago.  I must say that until I was all preoccupied with my weight gain, kilograms had virtually no meaning to me.  All I knew is that everything sounds heavier in kilos, no matter what.  I now know that a kg is approximately 2.2 lbs, so having gained only 6 of them for a whopping 13 pounds in basically 8 months was a little unnerving.  After all, how was I going to be anywhere near 25 recommended pounds in just another month?

Well, Peanut has the last laugh. 

Yesterday I went to the OB's office basically two weeks after my last appointment.  I stepped on the scale, and BAM!  70 kilograms.  Holy cramoley.  I gained 2 whole kilos in just 2 weeks.  Given that it took me 8 months to gain 6...let's just say Peanut is not to be underestimated.  Onward and outward!

Testing, Testing, 1,2,3...

There are a lot of tests when you are pregnant.  It starts with the one in the picture, but it certainly doesn't end there.  Every time I go the doctor I have to have some test or another, and more often than not I have to go to a separate clinic to have it done, and I have to go "en ayuno" - fasting - so I can't even do it the same day.  I am glad for all the helpful this information this seems to be giving to my doctor(s), but gee maneezy!

It also turns out that we did not have some tests that we might have had were we to have been in the States, or if we had started with our OB earlier than we did.  More specifically, we did not have any of the 11-18 week testing for Down's Syndrome.  As every god-blessed book or website on earth harps on the various worries an over-35 mother should have (not the smallest of those is ever managing to become pregnant, step 1 down) I am very clear that the chances of a Down's baby is higher for me than it might have been if Richard and I had gone through all this earlier.  As it is now, the sonogram and such don't seem to show any worrisome signs, but as with most tests it is not conclusive.  There is a test we could still do that might tell us something (or might not...and the false result rate is pretty high) which Dra. Lucia suggested to us, but we refused.  After all, why?

I mean, don't get me wrong, I am all up for knowing things ahead of time.  And the chance to read ahead, to figure out what (if any) services there are here for a child with special needs would certainly be valuable.  Still, Peanut is going to come however Peanut is going to come, and we are going to deal with that, love that, work that out, etc.  I worry about it sometimes, and I pray about it a lot, but in general I figure that I can't do much and that it is what it is (and will be), so we hope for the best.  

And lately I have worried about plenty of other things that we can't know at all until Peanut progresses all the way on out.  What if Peanut can't see, or hear?  What if Peanut really didn't get enough vegetables (this is likely true), and some internal system didn't get formed so well?  And of course the worst of all possibilities, what if something happens in labor or soon after and Peanut simply doesn't make it?

These things don't take up too much mental space, don't worry, but they are there.  I am sure they are there for everyone, at least in passing, but it remains absolutely stunning how much thoughts like that (especially the last ones) can just stop your heart.  It is amazing how much of an investment you can have in something you can't really see and someone you don't really know.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons people return so often to faith when children come along.  The prayers certainly start with a different intensity when you become responsible for another life, and the idea of a God you can talk to, feel close to, and be invested even though you can't really see her and you don't really know him suddenly doesn't seem so strange.

At any rate, no need to tell me all the reasons things will likely be fine.  I know the stats and I know I have done as well as I know how.  If you do have time, feel free to throw Peanut and family in your prayers though.  We can always use all the help we can get.

A Kick or Not a Kick, That is the Question

In theory I am at the point where I can feel Peanut start to move around and kick.  In reality, I'm not sure if I have yet or not.  The books and websites all say that the initial movements are sometimes hard to distinguish (especially in your first pregnancy), but that it can feel like butterflies in your tummy or popcorn popping or a goldfish swimming around.  I personally don't like thinking about Peanut the goldfish, but anyway...

Right now in the evenings I sometimes think I feel some bumping around in my belly, but because I am trying so hard to figure out whether it is real or just gas (attractive, I know) I have trouble deciding if I am just making it all up.  I know that soon enough I will feel something that makes it very clear, but until then you can tell when I am trying to determine what is going on because this totally engrossed but confused look comes over my face.  Some of you will argue that expression is not so uncommon as to be helpful, but whatever.

The reality is, for me at least, markers of progress are really important.  It is such a completely bizarre thing to imagine that there is something else living inside of you (sounds too much like Sigourney Weaver and Aliens...) that sometimes it is just too hard to believe.  Your first sign, of course, is that your period stops.  After that though, it is amazing how quickly you can doubt whether the little stick you tinkled on told you the truth or not.  You don't look different, you don't feel different, and the whole thing really does seem a little science fiction, come down to it.

So to some degree I was relieved to have a little morning sickness.  It was another marker - a way to know things are on track.  Let's be clear that the relief one feels at the next step taken is quickly triumphed by the prayer that the nausea end, and fast, but (for me) there was at least a moment of comfort in the midst of the uneasy queasies.

But now that has passed (thanks be to God), and my belly is not really a full-on "I'm pregnant, get out of my way" belly as of yet.  It can still be confused for my own gordita (little fattiness, see previous post), so again you start to wonder...is there really something in there?  It sounds silly, I know, but it is amazing how fast your brain can deny all the ultrasounds and doctor's appointments and wonder if this can all possibly be true.  Which means, I look forward to the kicks.  At least for the first few days - until I want to get some sleep and Peanut is up for jazzercise.  My enthusiasm may dampen a little then, but hey, it can't be worse than worshiping the porcelain god was...right?  (Right?)