Heads Up

Ms. Ella can hold her head up, I know, it is hard to get beyond the adorableness, but there it is, a non-bobbing head. We are at two months and one week and we have got head lift.

I can remember being way too small to reach the top drawer in my Mama's kitchen, the reason I can remember is because that is where my Mama kept all the spoons that I wanted to play with. And what I remember most is thinking, there is no way I am ever going to be tall enough to reach that drawer. I could believe in fairies and if I ate enough carrots I would be able to see in the dark, but I could not comprehend ever growing tall enough to reach those drawers. I find myself thinking the same thing with Ms. Ella. Here the girl is outgrowing her bassinet and holding her head up, but if you ask me if she is going to get much bigger I would say look at her paws, she is probably going to stay that size. It is not wishful thinking on my end. I love Baby Ella but can not wait to meet three year old Ella or 15 year old Ella, I just can not wrap my head around the idea that Baby Ella is going to turn into non-baby Ella. I have an easier time believing that a stork is going to come by and tell us it is time for us to switch out our baby for an older/bigger model. I have seen growing happen, with other babies turned kids and I got to say, always surprised. I always stand there and stare and say "my how you have grown" when what I am thinking is, you are a whole new child. Last time I saw you, you were this big and could do these things and it took me quite a while to figure out how to make you happy and now I have to introduce myself to you all over again, because you are a whole new child. How does this happen? Are children in a time warp? Ella has changed dramatically in TWO MONTHS, I have not changed at all. Well, except for my genius, super secret plan to keep all my Ella models.

One is never enough?

I am a glutton in all areas of my life. If I love it, I want more and more and more. I do not just want the whole chocolate cake, I want to trick the entire cake family over to my house and eat them whole, in one sitting. In keeping with my want of more, I want more Ella. I can not get enough, I am thinking of getting tattoos of her, on the inside of my eyelids. Of course, I then think, why stop at Ella, lets have more kids. Lets give those Duggers a run for their money. And then we babysat our friends 2 almost 3 girl. This is a sweet child, perfectly behaved and as about as charming as you can get. She asks how Mr. Fitz is doing when we see her at the grocery store, she shows me how dishes go in the dishwasher and is easily bribed by chocolate milk, I mean a good kid. I take notes on how her Mama trains her so that I too can have a good kid. But babysitting her introduced me to the reverse side of getting more. Chocolate cake, you don't have to fulfill it, it fulfills you, the rest of the time it just sits there, taunting you maybe, but that is it. Kids, sweet wonderful kids, do more than taunt. All of sudden there are two children that need to be feed and entertained and watched and put to bed and they do not go in the same direction at the same time. It reminded me of when I try and feed Ella, here we are, one boob is going and the other boob decides it too, wants to join in on the fun. I am trying to hold one boob in Ella's mouth, keep the other boob from causing a flood, suit Ella up in the appropriate rain gear and build a canoe, just in case I can not convince boob two, that now is not the time. All of this has lead me to the conclusion that more, will have to wait until Ella is 17. However, I am sure I will have to keep babysitting to remind myself of the above conclusion.

Face Fan

Nothing comes close to grabbing Ella's attention like a good face. Throw in an eyebrow wiggle and a big smile and Ella will give you an open mouth gurgle. That is as good as a standing ovation in the newborn circuit. Faces beat out rattles, lights and black and white contrasty items. A herd of zebras can not compare to a face. I do not want to brag, but my face routine, can beat out Ella's mobile. A mobile that has flapping leaves, music and 4 swinging stuffed animals, one if which is a monkey. The only nemesis to my face's ability to keep her attention....the fan. There I am, in the middle of the 2nd act of my face routine, eyebrow wiggle, eyebrow wiggle, open smile, when I start to see her eyes slide towards the fan. I begin amping it up, like a desperate actress past her prime, trying to keep the casting agents attention. No go, Ella is in the fans hypnotic swirl. No matter how fast my eyebrows go or how wide my smile is, Ella is in the fans clutches. That fan might be winning the battle but it is not going to win the war. I am going to start pulling out ear wiggling as soon as I can figure out how to move that muscle. That's right, as in much of my life, it ain't smarts that got me to the finish line but tenacity. My ears and I are working overtime, it is only a matter of time before she is mine all mine.

This means "Hungry"

Can I say this without tempting the fates? Ella is an easy going baby. This past week was a true test. I carted this adorable babe around like Paris Hilton carts around her chihuahua. We went to a music festival, not once but twice, we made a couple of hour long car trips, a few restaurant stops and Ella was held by no fewer than 6 new people this week. During these expeditions, Ella was exposed to all types of sights and sounds including a man who impersonated Donald Duck while wearing a shirt that said "AA a great place to meet drunk broads". During this time, when Ella cried, 9 times out of 10 it meant "hungry". Well, I really should type "HUNGRY".
Poor Ella, I had read prior to conceiving, that Moms can pick out their babies cries amongst the cries of a truck-load of infants. I strained to pick Ella's cries out of the other infants in the hospital nursery. Nothing, I thought, I will give it some time. To this day, I mistake my tone-deaf cat's meows for Ella's cries. I come running into the room, only to see Ella happy as punch and my cat sitting by the door to be let out. I have friends and family with children, who were once babies. They have told me the multiple step rituals they had for calming their babies down. Most of these rituals seem to involve being able to swaddle, rock, shush and feed the babies all at the same time. It also seems that each baby has their own specific element that has to be added in, such as playing with a scrunchy that looks like hair or being held in direct sunlight. During these conversations I keep quiet, something tells me it is not a good idea to say "yeah to make Ella stop crying I have to feed her". Perhaps that is why I can not tell Ella's cry from my cats Meow, I have yet to try and study it for the secret recipe to make it stop. There is no way Drew and I are going to get out of babyhoodom this easy. I am stocking up on scrunchies that look like hair.

You'd smile too if someone talked to you like a minature poodle on helium

Soon after Ella's birth, our house was filled with high-pitched terms of endearment. Drew picked up Parentese faster than Noshawn moves a football down the field. Never has a baby girl been so delighted with a bearded man speaking in a falsetto voice, as Ella is with her Daddy. I however, tended to go from high pitched helium to a Mr. T impersonation. Parentese, is the language that all people speak to babies in. I mean all people, across the globe, see a baby and speak an octave higher and draw out their vowels like they are from south Georgia. Preschoolers do it with younger siblings and here I am speaking like a large man with a mohawk. I pity the Ella. Lucky for me Ella did some coaching. Smiley face when I spoke high-pitched, worried-about-how-many-of-her-Mama's-genes-she-got face when I spoke Mr. T. Since I would eat beets covered in licorice and black pepper, something I would not do if it gave me magical powers and a photographic memory, to see Ella smile, my training moved along pretty quickly. Now if she could only teach me how to beat Drew at checkers.