Put your right foot in...

When I was little, Mom enrolled me in ballet with Miss Snookie (practically every little girl in Paintsville did ballet with Miss Snookie). I wasn't much of a dancer, but I loved the classes, and I especially loved when we turned our fingers into legs and practiced dance moves. We'd all hover around the mat on the floor, and Miss Snookie would tell us how to make our little fingers do the Hoakie Poakie.

Similarly (and probably around the same age), my Papaw Dennis could cause me to erupt in giggles by turning his hand into a "spider" and threatening to tickle me while I sat next to him on a stool at dinner.

Tonight, Landon and I were both upstairs giving Cora a bath. Landon turned his fingers into legs, and those legs ran up Cora's arm all the way to her neck and tickled her under the chin. She loved it. And then she stood up, came to me, and pointed her index finger down on the edge of the tub. She poked me on the arm, and then the shoulder, and then under the chin, and then she erupted into giggles.

It won't be long before our tiny dancer is ready for a dance class. Time is flying!

I'm telling you, she loves this hat, and she loves the purse that Aunt Feather left here for her. She looks like a little bag lady in her fuzzy footy PJ's, her hat, and her purse, along with her shopping cart full of her most precious belongings (Baby Mia, her lovey, and her sippy). We're a little concerned that she's aspiring to be a bag lady, but we're hoping that she's merely eccentric.

This is a game that she likes to play with Landon. Landon goes to put something in the closet, she closes the door behind him, and then she stands outside laughing until he comes out roaring. I happened to be trying to snap a pic of her morning attire when Cora took the opportunity to shove Daddy behind the door.

Sunday Funday! Cora was all ready for the Super Bowl party wearing something super comfy - an outfit from Grandma M made of bamboo. Bamboo!

I love that we have to roll the pants up tight around her bottom to keep them up - and that the shirt is all tight around her belly. 

 When you have a husband who is trained in turfgrass, pulling the "bad" grass out of the "pre-emmergent" grasses is a Sunday priority. I was a little alarmed when I learned the "bad" grass is bluegrass. Hold your horses, Mister! Leave that grass right where it is!

I don't think Landon minded the interruption.

 I love this pic. It is so random, but this is Cora's back-up as she poises herself to have a seat in a lap. Anytime one of us is sitting on the ground, this is the treatment we get. I'm not sure what had Landon laughing so hard, but I bet that she had just attempted to sit down and missed, and had popped-up and was trying again.

And, a little belly action. Yardwork is exhausting!

This pregnancy is different...

I can't believe it's almost time for Messal Baby 2 to arrive. In fact, we're already to the point when sometimes we wonder if it is time for Messal Baby 2 to arrive really soon.

As you probably know, Landon and I opted out of learning the sex of the baby at the 20 week ultrasound. We didn't know with Cora, and never planned to find out with this one either. We occassionally wish that we knew for sure (like when Landon wistfully says he would someday like to have a son, or when "Janie & Jack" has a big sale and I wish I could pick-up some Easter outfits...) but for the most part, we are happy not knowing.

EVERYONE is asking me what I think that this baby will be (girl), what we want (honestly does not matter to me, Landon has a slight preference to eventually have a son but he always follows his statement with a comment that he really doesn't care), and whether this pregnancy is the same.

It seems that everyone (including myself) believes that past pregnancy symptoms predict the sex of the future pregnancy, so if this pregnancy is the same, then I am having a girl. The question about the similarities of the pregnancy is a tough one. Physically, the pregnancies are the EXACT same. The dates of the nausea perfecctly overlap. The fatigue is the same. I'm experiencing heartburn again, and a tad bit of swelling. Admittedly, neither are as bad this time, but I am attributing that to the winter temperatures (a balmy 70 degrees here) rather than the SC August temperatures (a nice, comfortable, 105 degrees).


I have similar cravings. This time, it has been a constant need for pizza, whereas the last time all I wanted was mac n cheese. With both pregnancies, I've eaten more hamburgers than I've ever eaten in my entire life. Oh, and this pregnancy, bring on the biscuit & gravy. In fact, I did something REALLY crazy two weeks ago. Landon was out of town, and Cora woke up super early in the morning. It was 9AM, and I was already seeing signs that we weren't going to have a happy day, so I loaded her in the car for errands. After stop #2, she fell asleep, and I was stuck not wanting to wake her but also looking at about an hour of boredom. I drove straight to McD's, ordered gravy & biscuit with extra grape jelly, pulled into a parking spot, stretched out with my IPhone Nook... If you know my eating habits, then you know that that McD's stop was absurd! But mostly, the symptoms have been the same.
But psychologically, these two pregnancies are totally different. With the first pregnancy, I had a lot of anxiety.

1. Did we have everything that we needed?
2. Would we be good parents?
3. Would Landon be surprised by how much work a baby would require?
4. Would we have enough money to raise a child?
5. How would I deal with the lack of sleep?
6. How in the world would I manage a household, work full time, and have a baby?
7. How would work survive without me during my maternity leave?
8. Would labor fit my perfectly planned-out birth instructions?

This time, I'm really not having hardly any anxiety at all, and few of these questions are keeping me up at night. I've learned the answers already:

1. Probably not, but we live 1 mile from the hospital and 1 mile (or less!) from a 24 hour Walmart, so why worry about it?
2. Yes, I think that we are pretty darn good parents, however that is measured. We sure are having a good time giving it our best shot.
3. Maybe, but he handles it in stride, and typically tackles all of the work with more energy and grace than I.
4. We will never have enough money to raise a child.
5. If this time is like the last time, Landon will find me crumpled up in a ball crying in the nursery 4 weeks into motherhood. It is OK - he'll scoop me up, promise to wake me when it is time to nurse, and spend the day home from work making me sane again.
6. Manage? The challenge is to not let it all manage me. I've grown to prefer the word "survival" when I look around and feel that I have too much to do. For example, "Which of these items that I need to do is key to survival of my family?" If sleep outweighs laundry or vacumming, well, then sleep trumps housework. In fact, the rule has become that sleep trumps housework, time together trumps sleep, and (for both of us) time cuddling/wrestling/playing with Cora trumps about everything else.
7. I doubt that they even really missed me...
8. Planned. That was funny!

In fact, the only thing causing sleepless nights is crazy dreams. Last week, I had a very distinct dream that I gave birth to a doberman (that's right, the baby was an actual dog), Landon and I lived in a REALLY bad apartment in the projects (with Erin & Cody Groeber), and the Groeber's helped me find a new apartment. It was one of those crazy dreams when I kept waking up and then would return to the same dream...
Another night, I dreamed that it was time for the Schottland Scholar Tour of Organizations, but we were going to the Bahamas, I had forgotten to make hotel arrangements, so we were instead staying an at all-inclusive resort (the students were devastated, of course).

I think the only thing that is different is that now I fully understand how much we are going to love this new little person. I can't wait to meet this little watermelon!

Cora, I know you won't remember this...

You've been really fussy in the evenings. We think that it's because you play so hard, and have so much fun at school, that you're just tired. By the time we eat dinner, you've been pretty tuckered-out for bath time. Last night, your daddy heard you starting to fuss as I was getting ready to put you in the tub. His solution: he came up wearing swim trunks, goggles, and a snorkel, and climbed in the tub with you.

You were confused at first, but ended up thinking it was pretty darn funny.

You sure are a lucky little girl!

Great for and as an audience, decent host, horrible mother

These are the terms I would use this week to describe our little Cora Jane.

Want an explanation?

Cora has become our very own tiny dancer. Anytime the music is on, she starts to bounce up and down and lift her feet, and she occassionally tries to give a full-on jump. But she doesn't like to have an audience for her dancing routine. It isn't that she doesn't like to be watched... it is that she wants all audience members to participate. I've been trying to capture her jiving on camera, but it's a difficult task when she insists that I, too, join her on the kitchen dance floor.

Cora is great for an audience.

Cora has also grown into a better audience. I've always read to her, and when she was really tiny, she was always a captive audience (of course!). But over the past half-year, reading to her has become more difficult. She's wanted to touch the pages (which only works if it is a touch-and-feel book). She's wanted to hold the books and turn the pages. She's wanted to switch quickly between stories. However, last week she seemed to really "turn a page" (no pun intended). Now, when we are settling into bedtime, she clearly prefers some books over others, and anticipates some parts of the stories. Tonight I noticed at the end of Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, she had her face turned up expectantly for "Three little kisses on the tip of her nose".

But my favorite time to have Cora as a captured audience is after her books, when I rock her and sing to her. That's right... I sing to her. Always have. Not easy songs, either, but songs with a range of notes. We've developed a consistent routine. We start with "He's still working on me", and then transition to several songs of thanksgiving that I remember singing in church as a kid ("I've got so much to thank him for", "Thank you Lord for your blessings on me", "I want to thank you, Lord, for every time you heard me pray"), and then all 4 verses of "Amazing Grace". Finally, we always finish with (admittedly very random) Phil Vassar's country song "Just Another Day in Paradise". If you've ever heard me sing, you'll understand why my brother recently said, "And you think THAT is going to make her stop crying?!?!?" I am such a horrible singer that I once heard from another class of students that the music teacher at our high school (Ms. Robinson) declared that she had never met anyone who was truly tone deaf, paused, and then declared Carrie Blair might really be tone deaf. I wasn't even in the room! Sometimes, when Landon and I sing at church, people in front of us will glance back to see where that "noise" originates. You catch my drift, right? The fact that I'm a horrible singer makes Cora's reaction all the more sweet. It could be that she is just as tone deaf as me, but when I am singing to her, she often takes her little hand and rubs my face. The other night, both of her hands popped-up in the air and she gave me a little applause.

The time that we spend in the rocking chair is becoming even more precious, as she no longer prefers to be rocked to sleep (she is starting to prefer to be sleepily deposited into her crib), and she's adopted the daycare naptime routine (lying in her crib with her room dark and music playing softly in the background). She is a great audience at bedtime, and I will be so sad when she starts to recognize that Mommy is a really really REALLY bad singer.

She's become a decent host. She loves to greet people at the door, and she especially likes to walk people to the door and say "Bye!". Here she is at brunch after (what we like to call) the 8:07 mass. Post-mass brunch is often my favorite part of the weekend. The Groeber's started the tradition of an impromtu post-mass brunch, with a hodge-podge of food that people grab on their way to the house. At the Groeber's, the country Top 40 plays in the background, and the kids drag out all available toys while the adults liesurely eat. This pic was taken last weekend, when we finally offered to host.

One problem with Cora as a host: she hasn't figured out the order of the "Bye". Last week when Melanie, her regular sitter, left, we told Cora to tell her, "Bye". Melanie was standing just past the door jam. Cora ran to the door, slammed it, then stood there with her arm stretched high eagerly declaring "Byyyye! Bye-Byyyye." Landon and I were left yelling loudly, hoping Melanie could hear, "We promise she likes you" and "We hope you'll come back next Wednesday". She also likes to blow kisses at people after they walk away.

Cora's mothering skills need some work! Case in point: on Sunday I was trying to squeeze in a shower while Cora was awake. I had her pinned in the bathroom with me, her babydoll, and its bottle. And that's when Cora got curious. It started with a desire to give the baby a bath. I'd turn around, see the baby poking through the shower curtain, and released down the sloped back of the garden tub (a water slide of sorts). Cora would then peak her head in laughing. That happened several times. I kept retrieving the doll, returning it, and instructing Cora to dry the baby off like we do with her after her bath. By the time that I registered the sound of the toilet lid opening, it was too late for Baby Mia. Baby Mia was plunked in the toilet, and earned an immediate trip to the washing machine.

Maybe this pic of Cora offering milk to Johnny McManus will redeem her? I sure hope that when the new baby arrives, Cora is the "happily offering milk" helper and not the "slamming the baby in the toilet" helper.

Landon placed me into the "Horrible mother" category Wednesday. Yes, I sent Cora to school wearing this outfit Wednesday. It was hat day, and I chose her hat, dress, and leg warmers. However, Cora found a pair of Reese's hand-me-down boots in her closet - a pair that I had already declared too narrow, as I couldn't get them on her feet when I tried. Cora found them and was determined to squeeze her feet in. With her pushing and my tugging, her feet squeezed in on Wednesday and she refused to take off her boots even after she came home from daycare. I finally had to distract her while she sat at her high chair.

Look out, Daddy! I'll be lasso'ing some boys before you know it!

Genius?

Landon sent this pic from his cell phone when he picked Cora up from school last week. It takes about 5 minutes for Landon to drive from daycare to our house. I spent that next 5 minutes researching Mensa. Seriously - she was coloring in the lines!

It's a good thing I didn't go overboard, and that Landon brought the entire "workbook" home with him... page 2 and 3 were a bit, um, more on target for a 16 month-old kid...

Oh well, she definitely does not have esteem issues.

We often play the "repeat after me" game.

Landon (pointing at himself): Daddy

Cora: Dada

Landon (pointing at me): Mommy

Cora: Mama

Landon (pointing at Cora): Cora

Cora (also pointing at Cora): Good Girl!!!

 

Thanks, Cat, for the golf sippy cup. We love it!

Cora, wearing vintage Eyla, on the move before church. She was actually on the move all the way through church, too. She's a handful I tell ya'!

I usually get the blame when Cora is dressed in crazy attire. But this ensemble was all Landon. All adorable pieces on their own... but the white sunglasses with the black "Russian" hat with the orange (with pink heart pants) paired with orange (with white polka-dot shoes) and the red & pink puff jacket kind of clashed...

Perspective

Landon and I are guilty. Regularly guilty, not just occassionally guilty. We are guilty of stating that we need to make more money. We'll say that we need to make more money so that we can renovate our (perfectly functioning) kitchen, redo our (very solid) floors, or (maybe even) move into a newer house even closer to the beach and the park. We'll say that we need to make more money so that we can upgrade our (already luxury) SUV. We'll say that we need to make more money to afford a(nother) bachelor party or girl's trip for the year. Or maybe we'll say that we need to make more money so that we can buy clothes off of the racks in the front of the store rather than the back. But the truth is, no one at the Messal house needs anything at all.


I read this morning that it only takes $34,000 per year (per person living in one household) to be considered among the world's wealthiest 1% (half of the world's wealthiest live in the US, and the world's middle class actually makes a median of $1,225 per year). I also read a blog this morning that (amongst other things) talked about moments of thanksgiving. One of the mother's moments was while in line at the grocery store, when she reminded herself that despite the chaos of her 3 kids and a slow clerk, she had a cartful of "delicacies" that mothers around the world would kill to have (fresh fruit & veggies, organic milk, yogurt, meat, and the occassional popsicle). Amen to that!

The moments when Cora doesn't have exactly what she needs are so brief... Tonight she started to shiver a little when on the changing table after her bath but before I got her hair dry and her (heavy winter feety) PJs on her. Yesterday we ran a late afternoon errand that cut into her dinner time and we had to make-do for a few minutes with some stale crackers and a granola bar. She was in a foul mood in her high chair tonight, and niether Landon or I could figure out what would satisfy her. Several days ago I thought that we were out of fresh fruit (due to grocery shopping laziness on my part!) and so I was going to give her some canned pineapple and raisins with breakfast rather than her typical fresh fruit cocktail (but I found some strawberries hidden in the fridge). I think that you catch my drift - Cora wants for very little, and actually needs nothing. In those moments, I empathize for a second with mothers who struggle to meet the needs of their children. It would be heartbreaking.  

Even though we are guilty of saying that we need more money, we are far more "guilty" of saying how lucky we are. We're lucky for a healthy and happy home, our marriage, faith, a delightful daughter, fulfilling work, and supportive families, and we say so frequently (maybe even daily).

In recognition that I have a little person copying my every move, I've made a list of words that I am removing from my vocabulary this year. I'm adding the word need to the list.  

Cora, wearing "Vintage Reese", changing from happy...

...to mad!

 I love her little grumpy face, but...

...maybe if I stop using the word need, she'll stop throwing these little tantrums!

Belly Shots

We only have 10 weeks to go!

Baby #1 is excited that the arrival of Baby #2 will bring everyone back again for a visit! Here, Aunt Feather was bouncing Cora and singing a little pony song. Cora started singing her own little song. She makes us so happy!