Cave People

Jon and I are officially cave people. It's not just that 98% of all communication in our house takes the form of grunts and gestures or we occasionally decorate with hand prints and food stuffs. No, we are "cavers" for a whole different reason.

Remember the whole 'we're getting rid of pacifiers' thing? Yeah... See, here's the thing. We did get rid of them. Since the Sunday after Thanksgiving, we had remained strong. Not a single "ba-see" had crossed Miss Maddie's lips, and whenever she asked for them, we reminded her that we had said "Bye-bye, paci", which seemed to work. She still cried before going to sleep now and then, but overall, we were pleased that going paci-free had gone so smoothly. Then, we made a rookie mistake.

We assumed, quite naively it appears, that going to bed in a strange place would prove no different than going to bed at home. So, when we packed up the car and headed to my parents' house for Christmas, we didn't take a single pacifier. Not one. Not even a teething pacifier, which isn't really a pacifier but may have worked in a pinch. "We" were idealistic fools.

By 3:30 a.m. on December 26th, we had realized the error of our ways. In fact, I'm pretty sure that six of the nine people in my parents' house had come to the conclusion that our ways just plain sucked. Being that all their children and their children's significant others had come home for the holidays, space at Casa de Webster was tight. Maddie, Jon, and I were all in the same room, and she was in the dreaded pack 'n' play, which is not an ideal situation. (Since day three in our home, the Madster has done better sleeping in her own room. I blame Jon's rumbling earthquake of a snoring problem.) At roughly 1 a.m., she woke up, and seeing us in the room, proceeded to stand in her bed saying "Mama, Mama, Mama" over and over until I took her out of her bed and into ours. However, as usual, she had no interest in sleeping in our bed. She just wanted to play, and with that many people in the house, there was no "cry it out" option and no place to go.

As time progressed and everyone grew increasingly tired and irritable, each attempt to calm and relax her made her angrier and angrier. Finally, Jon tried giving her some warm milk, and this seemed to work--until it was gone, at which point the real, hysterical screaming started. He suggested going out to try and find a pacifier, but I resisted. I was afraid it would set us back to square 1, and I was not prepared to give up ground so easily, but when she wasn't calm by 3 a.m. and we were starting to whisper-yell at each other, I changed my mind and (because Maddie refused to come to me at that point but then screamed when I left the room) ventured out in the absolutely freezing, snow-blowing night in search of pacifiers. It probably goes without saying that in Great Bend, KS, population 15,500, nothing was open at 3:30 a.m. the night after Christmas. (Even though the lights in both Wal-Mart and Dillion's were on, and I thought very mean, non-repeatable things about the people who stood near the doors and shook their heads at me as I trudged back to my car, in my pajamas, through the snow and wind.)

By the time I got back, she was asleep, and I crawled into bed for two more hours of sleep before being woken up at 6 a.m. From now on, we're keeping the newly dubbed "travel-pacifiers" in each car in hopes of avoiding more "Night After Christmases."

P. S. - For those of you who are wondering, we did purchase pacifiers the next day, and Saturday night went just fine. She then slept for almost two hours on the way home, took and hour and a half nap that afternoon (from which we had to wake her for fear that she wouldn't go to bed that night), went to bed at 7:15 p.m., and had to be woken up at 7:15 a.m. this morning. If only the same could be said of her parents.

Merry Christmas to all...

and to all a Good Night!

Bubble Bath = FAIL

Huge, giant, colassal FAIL. Apparently, when you've been taking bubble-less baths your entire life, adding bubbles is terrifying.

It was so sad, too because Jon was so excited about this "first" bubble bath. He wanted to run her bath, he wanted to put the bubbles in, he wanted to be the one to put her in. She wanted nothing to do with it. What follows is a small photographic/videographic record of this failure of a first:

And This Is Why...

No one will feel sorry for me. I get to see things like this almost every day.

Yeah, we're pretty lucky.

I Love Her, but...

In which I rant, whine, and generally complain and no one feels sorry for me.

I love my daughter. I love her to pieces. Can't imagine my life without her, but as every parent knows, there are some things about parenthood I could do without (unless you're one of those crazy, over-involved parents who actually likes changing diapers, wiping snot, and cleaning cheerios out of every crevice in your house, in which case, I have one word for you: Nut Job). Herein, in the rant for which none of you will feel sympathy, I list some of the things I will not miss about early toddlerhood:

1. I will be sooooo glad when the first finger on my right hand no longer smells permanently of Desitin. Seriously...

2. I will be forever grateful when my bathroom no longer looks like this on a regular basis:

3. I'll be super-excited when I can walk into my kid's bedroom and not be met by a wall of diaper-smell. It doesn't seem to matter how often we clean/empty the trashcan. The smell abides.

4. I will not miss the daily force-brushing of teeth that only results in tears, screaming, and biting:

5. I will gladly bid a not-so-fond farewell to the nightly pajama wrangling that usually ends in more screaming, along with some thrashing, kicking, and overall unhappiness.

As I said above, I know no one is going to feel sorry for me, but sometimes, you just need to unload.

A Night Without Pacifiers

We kept saying we were going to do it--after she turned one, after football season ('cause you know, she's going to have to sleep at her uncle's a lot, and well...), after the Thanksgiving holidays and all the traveling and strange bed sleeping that entailed. All that, and yet, somehow, when it was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and we had no more excuses, it still caught us a little by surprise. "She's still a baby!" we wanted to say. "She's not ready. Maybe after Christmas."

But NO. It was time. We were taking away the pacifiers. So, after her nap, I gathered up all the pacifiers in her room and held them out to her in a small pile in my hand. "Say bye-bye to your pacifiers," I said. "Say bye-bye, paci."

"Buh-buh, basee." (Which, ironically, is a word she only picked up last week.)

Then, while she watched, I put all of the pacifiers on the top shelf in her closet and closed the door. She continued to wave bye-bye to her "basees" for a little while, and she asked for them again while bouncing in her crib later that evening. (Yes, we let our kid jump on her bed. Don't judge. It makes her happy, and it's not like we were going to be keeping that little crib mattress forever anyway.) This was all preliminary, though. We all knew the real test was yet to come.

Fast-forward to 7 p.m. We'd brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, read Good Night Moon (twice, I think), and she'd said good night to Daddy (meaning she said "Buh-buh" to him and waves all the way down the hallway). I put her in bed, told her I love her, and left, closing the door behind me. Then, we waited. At first, there was silence, but then the silence turned to whimpering. You could hear her (on the monitor) rummaging around in her crib, searching desperately for the pacifiers, any pacifier, so she can relax and go to sleep. Finally, the screaming started. Huge, loud, gulping sobs came roaring out of the monitor. We sat and stared at each other. After five minutes or so, I couldn't take it anymore, and I went in to rub her back, soothe her, etc.

This went on for about 30 minutes. I soothed, I left, she screamed, until finally, she cried herself to sleep. Strangely, she never once actually asked for a "basee." Perhaps she was too traumatized for words. It was heartbreaking, but we really felt like it was time to leave the pacifier behind. I've read that the older they get, the harder it gets to take them away, and at a certain point, you can screw up their teeth, and since Maddie sleeps a-lot, she technically had a pacifier in her mouth more than half the day. With this last point in mind, I insisted that we go to bed early, convinced that she would be up two or three times during the night.

Ahhhh, it's amazing what 9+ hours of sleep can do for you... I did hear her whine a couple times during the night, but she always went right back to sleep. What's more, her nap at daycare, sans "basee" went off without a hitch. She went to sleep on her own and slept her normal 2.5 hours. Last night, it was only six minutes of crying before she went to sleep, and I think that's because she was very, very sleepy. Of course, now that I've blog-bragged about what an easy-going kid we have, she'll probably take it to a whole new level tonight. Regardless, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for sweet, paci-free dreams.

County Lions

I was honored over the last weekend by being selected to play in a benefit basketball game against the Harlem Ambassadors, a poor man's Globetrotters. What I mean by selected is that Pa was gracious enough to pay people to make me a member of the team. I am hoping this was the first time he had to do that. Although it did not seem like big deal to him, so I am rethinking some previous team memberships. It was basically a 32 minute game with 8 minutes quarters with clocks that were nonstop. So I played 8 minutes total, but started the game, but for all I know dad could have added a little bit more on the top of my entry fee for the starting position. We had 20 players on the County Lions from all across our great county. Each player had an even 8 minutes of playing time against 6, yes SIX, Ambassadors. We only lost by 30ish. There were loads of dunks, none of which by a County Lion member. My stat line was as follows: 1 shot blocked (unfortunately my shot was the one blocked), 1 rebound, and 1 assist. The event was to raise money for the Lions' Clubs in the area. It was a fun event and I was happy that Maddie and Mommy were able to see me play in one of my favorite gyms, even if it was 10 years past my prime.

Getting Bigger...

Maddie had her 15 month check-up last week and she continues to get bigger. This time it is not just the weight! She is holding steady at 26lbs 10oz, which is what she weighed 3 months ago, and is at the 92nd percentile. Her head size is still rather large, a hair under the 80th percentile. Daddy is extremely happy to announce that she has made big strides on her height. She is 32.5 inches tall which puts her in the 94th percentile. The first time her height registered higher than her weight. I am now expecting a 6'4" small forward. She will most likely be the marquee member of the 2025 Jayhawk recruiting class.

Greetings from Endor...

This was a very special Halloween at the Webster-Stoppel house. It was the first year Maddie was able to participate in the Ghoulous festivities. As you can see, she was an Ewok, and an extremely cute one at that. I will have to give props to myself as I fabricated the Ewok hood from fleece and my mom's old sewing machine. Thank goodness for 7th grade home economics. We took Maddie to the Mildale Farm near Gardner the day of Halloween for some fall fun. It was a great day to be outside and there were pumpkins there, which is all Maddie really cared about. We enjoyed picking out pumpkins, touring the farm, and getting a horse-drawn hay rack ride.

dA parm eben weNts owt dARe bwildings faR wedngs n kaSe daRe R ne snGle ncLes owt daRe.

Sorry, I just got back to the computer, Maddie was typing when I got back I hope she didn't write anything too offensive. Anywho, the last picture is Maddie being endlessly entertained by the plethora of trick-or-treaters. Happy Halloween!

More pictures HERE

The Great Pumpkin (Patch Visit)

First of all, let me apologize for the title. I don't know how many of you are familiar with the Charlie Brown Halloween special I'm referring to, but I thought it was clever. On further consideration, it's probably not that funny, but I'm too lazy to think of a new one. Instead, I will spend the time I could have used to think of a better title explaining the lameness of my first one...

Yesterday, we joined Chris, Meghan, and Oliver and took Maddie for her first visit to the pumpkin patch, which only seemed fitting in light of her current love affair with all things round and orange. (Um, just realized basketball season is right around the corner...) It was pretty windy, but we think she really enjoyed herself. She probably would have enjoyed herself more if her Mommy and Daddy weren't such sticks in the mud and would have allowed her to touch, taste, or throw every. single. pumpkin. she. saw. No, really. She still thinks they're balls, so she tries to throw them, and the fact that they don't bounce does not deter her in the least.

In the end, both she and Daddy each chose one pumpkin--Daddy chose a large one with a "nice, flat front" for carving and Maddie chose a small little guy we've nicknamed Arnie. (It helps to nickname anything she's knows by name; otherwise, as soon as you say "pumpkin" she's all "ba-ba? ba-ba?")

Below are some pictures of our visit to Schaake's Pumpkin Patch, located between Eudora and Lawrence. For anyone in the area that's wondering about the experience as a whole, it's not bad. It was really crowded, being the first non-rainy weekend in all of October, and it was a long walk from the parking area to the patch and back. They did have tractor-pulled flatbeds that transported people back and forth, but they were also crowded and hard to come by. Maddie did have a really good time, just seeing that many pumpkins was super-exciting for her, but I think it'll be something that gets better as she gets older. Anyway, the pictures:

Remember the Cuteness, Part II

Continuing in my effort to remember the little and random, but completely adorable, things Maddie does, I submit a whole new list of "cuteness":

I Heart Price Chopper: Maddie's home-away-from-home may be daycare, but given the choice, I really believe she'd choose to live at the grocery store, currently. See, Maddie's new favorite obsession (seriously, it may even rival books, at the moment) is the ball. Anything round (although, footballs are also included in her orb-love) is immediately fascinating and covetable, and the grocery store in the fall is packed to the rafters, quite literally, with all manner of "round." First, even before you walk through the magical doors to consumer-heaven, there are the pumpkins. The first time Maddie saw them, she went nuts, "Ba! Ba, ba, ba! BA! BAAA!" It took me several seconds to realize what she was talking about. She's finally consented to call them "Ba-ba", which is her way of letting us know she does hear us when we say over and over "Those are pumpkins, honey, not balls." Once inside of Mecca, there are even more pumpkins, but there are also balloons--not just the usual assortment of seasonal mylar, but balloons everywhere promoting tailgate-appropriate food stuffs. They adorn almost every aisle, and being round and shiny, they have also been dubbed "Ba!" Finally, though not balls, there are cardboard Jayhawk cut-outs that hang from the ceiling (also for tailgating). Being a Webster-Stoppel, Maddie loves the bird, so seeing the Jayhawk alongside so many beautiful balls of all shapes and sizes? Paradise.

The Answer Is No: About a month ago, Maddie picked up the word "No." At first she said it like Laura, her daycare provider says it to her: "Na-Na" (No-no), but now she just says "No" or "No!" Sometimes it's very off-hand, very casual. No, not now. I'm good. Sometimes it's quite emphatic. The thing is, she doesn't quite get it. She understands that no can be used to decline or deny something, but, well, maybe I should just give an example:

Mommy: Maddie, would you like a snack? Would you like some food?

Maddie: NO! NO! (Runs over to her highchair and proceeds to jump up and down until Mommy gets her in the chair and puts food in front of her.)

Yeah...she thinks "no" is an appropriate answer to every question. In fact, the more she really wants something, the louder and more demanding the no will be. She also shouts no when being offered the chance to go play in her playroom in the basement, read a book, drinks some juice, or go to daycare, all things she does, in fact, fully intend to do. We've tried following her no by saying "Yes. Yes you would like a snack. Yes, you would like to go downstairs. Yes, you would like to dance to the Mickey Mouse song" but to no avail. Whatever, we'll get there, someday.

Monkey See, Monkey Do: Most of you probably know I call my daughter Monkey or Monkey Face a lot (not that I really think she looks like a monkey), but as she gets older and starts to mimic other people, the nickname is becoming more apt. Currently, my two favorite imitations are as follows:

1) The sneeze: This started at daycare, where it being cold and flu season, there is a lot of sneezing. Whenever one of the kids sneezed, the other kids would all giggle and shout "A-choooo!" Maddie, not wanting to be left out, is now also shouting achoo, but because it gets such a big reaction, she'll now do it on command or just on her own. No one has to be sneezing, but you'll hear this little voice go "Ah-Deeeooo." (I used to think she was announcing her own impending sneeze, but that turned out to be a fluke.) The inflection is complete and total adorability, but she also scrunches up her nose and tilts her chin in the air while she says it. Love it!

2) How does a kitty drink?: The other night while I was giving Maddie her bath, one of the cats wandered in and began drinking the left-over water that was in a lid I use to wet and rinse Maddie's hair. I pointed this out to Maddie and being the teaching-moment minded parent that I am, started explaining how kitties drink. I move my tongue in and out and made slurping noises--the whole bit. (When it comes to learning moments, I commit.) Pretty soon, there's Maddie moving her tongue in and out, and now, when you ask her how a kitty drinks, she demonstrates nicely.

And then there's this:

And this:

Yeah, eat your heart out, Gerber Baby.

Who's Your Mommy?

Recently, Jon and I were getting ready to go to sleep, and he asked me what my favorite thing was about Maddie since she turned a year old. I said, "Hearing her call me Mommy and getting a hug when I pick her up from daycare." Having been forced to read/listen to my rants about her lack of interest in acknowledging or saying "Mommy", I know you'll be delighted (or perhaps just relieved) to hear that she's finally calling me by name, and not just saying my name when people point to me, but asking for me and calling to me. It's a full-blown Ma-mee, too. She does call me Ma-ma, sometimes, but as with Jon and "Da-dee", it's usually the complete word, correctly enunciated and everything.

I think this is another one of those "life-moments" (that's a really cheesy term I just used, sorry...) that you're never fully prepared for, a moment that just barrels into you at high speed. When you have kids, or find out you're having kids, or birth kids, or whatever context works for you, you think about the first time they'll call you Mommy or Daddy or Great-step-aunt-Myrtle, but when it happens, oh-my-goodness, the feeling is boundless. I can't really describe it in better terms. It just overtakes you; you can't breathe for a second because did that just?, really?, at me?, for real? It's addictive, this being addressed by name. We still haven't gotten tired of it, even when it comes in the form of a whine. (Oh, and we dont' really have a Great-aunt-Myrtle. You didn't just forget part of the family tree. No worries.)

Now for the hugging: She's been giving hugs for quite a while now, when you ask for them, so nothing really new there, but for the last two weeks or so, she's been giving completely spontaneous, self-motivated hugs when I pick her up from daycare. I walk in the door, she gets excited, grins, proudly displays to me whatever toy she's playing with, and begins toddling around the furniture toward me. She used to stop just short of my reach (she never really wants to go home from daycare--daycare has better toys) and just show me her toy before turning around and wandering off to play with the dog or the kitchen magnets. Now, however, she comes up and snuggles her head into my shoulder, just for a few seconds, but long enough for it to be a purposeful hug. I don't want to put words in her mouth, but I see it as her way of saying, "Hey, I missed you. I don't really want to go home with you, but if you want to stay here and play with me, that would be great. I'm just glad you're around." It's nice to feel, if not needed, wanted, and the hug is one of the first signs of physical affection she's shown us all on her own. It's a way of saying "I like being with you, too," when full-sentences and thoughts are a long way off. (Again, with the putting of words in her mouth. I could be wrong. She may just be resting before going back to play with the dog.)

Before I wrap this up, I must apologize, as usual, for our lack of blogging of late. This fall is gearing up to be one of the busiest on record, and of course before anyone says it, I know they just get busier. I'm aware. We did go to the zoo for the first time this Sunday, so we'll try to get a post and a few pictures up from that, and of course, we'll have an assortment of tailgating/football photos at some point this season. Until then, enjoy this completely unrelated, but seriously adorable, photo of Maddie that Nana snapped earlier this fall.

Tub Dunking!

Note: There are additional photos added to the slideshow which includes Maddie swimming, our trip to 'The Farm', and the big birthday party. New slideslow location at the very bottom of the blog.

Of Weaning and Whining (and Wining and Sushi)

WARNING: This post contains very detailed information about breastfeeding and weaning. If you feel that this is something you may be uncomfortable with, please do not read this post. If you do read it and are subsequently offended or unsettled, the writer and other contributors to this blog take no responsibility for your lack of judgement.

So, it's official. Maddie is weaned and I am, for the time being, finished breastfeeding. Since I know there are several people who read this blog who are breastfeeding or will be breastfeeding, I thought it might be helpful to outline the process a little since I, for one, had a lot of trouble finding information on weaning when I needed it. Well, sort of. I could find information on weaning a baby. What I couldn't find information on was weaning a mom. I found article after article on cutting back on feedings slowly, introducing the bottle, etc., but I found one, seriously ONE, article on what I should expect as I went from milk factory to empty barn. (It was on Babble, of course.)

Anyway, basically, I began cutting back on feedings in June. I went from pumping three times a day to pumping twice a day and then once a day and then not at all during the day. We switched Maddie to goat's milk and then cow's milk, and aside from the fact that she still refuses to drink cow's milk out of a sippy-cup (coming soon to Webster-Stoppel Family, the epic saga of Bottle vs. Cup!), it went very well. In fact, from her perspective, I was sort of sad that she didn't seem to miss me or my milk more. In reality, Jon and I were actually quite glad the transition was smooth. I eventually got to the point where I was only nursing her morning and night, then only in the morning, and on the morning of her birthday party, I nursed her for the last time, and that was it. Out of business.

As for what my body did, well, it wasn't quite that smooth. Aside from the actual shutting down, going from pumping twice a day to pumping once a day was the most difficult. I chose to cut feedings out over the weekends, so I wouldn't be sitting at my desk at work leaking through my clothes, but that meant there were several times during the weekends that I was in some other public place hoping I didn't leak through my clothes. And yes, it's painful, although, not as painful as some descriptions I've heard. My breasts were rock solid, unmoving, hot, and painful. I did not want to be touched, and by the end of it all, raising my arms over my head hurt. Getting dressed in the morning was challenging, and following The Last Supper (or breakfast as the case may be), I wore sports bras for a week solid.

Then, strangely, after a week of pain, clogged ducts about which I could do nothing, embarrassingly large breasts, ill-fitting tops, and disrupted sleep, everything just went away. By the Sunday following our last feeding session, my breasts were still very sore, but they weren't massive and immovable. By Monday, it was over. As for the aftermath, it's not too bad. (She writes while tilting her head a little and squinting, trying to decide how she really feels.) Yes, my breasts are smaller and they seem to have lost a little, um, elasticity, but they're not flat as pancakes and hanging out in the vicinity of my belly-button, either. Plus, I'm actually thinner now than I was before I got pregnant, so who's to say some of this wouldn't have happened anyway, baby or no. Regardless, though, I will admit that it's taking some getting used to. I'd become accustomed to my larger bust-line, and now instead of the ladies seeming smaller, I feel like everything else got bigger. It's a weird scale, perspective thing, and I have to keep reminding myself that I probably didn't gain five pounds in a week.

Emotionally, I don't think I experienced any major hormone shifts at the end, but you may need to check with Jon. I was a little "pissy" for a week or so, but I don't remember it being too out of control. I will say that I was surprised by how emotional I had become about nursing. While it was going on, I never really felt one way or another about it. It was something that needed to be done, and sometimes I was happy to do it, and sometimes it was a huge inconvenience, truthfully. However, the first night I didn't nurse her before she went to bed, the urge to do so was very strong. I really, really wanted to, and I had to keep reminding myself that I had to quit at some point. Plus, she was ready. She'd been ready for a while.

As for the sushi part of the title, to put a positive spin on weaning and celebrate some of the activities I can now return to whole-heartedly, Jon, some friends, and I are going out for cocktails and sushi this Saturday--cocktails because I mostly avoided hard alcohol while I was breastfeeding (and before anyone flips out, I was very careful to wait appropriate amounts of time or pump and dump even when drinking wine and beer), and sushi because it's best to avoid the whole raw fish thing while you're feeding another person, bacteria and all that.

And so it ends, and I can stop writing warning labels for so many posts, unless, of course, Maddie decides to repeat the "Great Poo Incident of 2009"...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to burn my nursing bras. Those things were awful.

A Year in Photos

The full set of proofs from Maddie's one-year photo session are now online on the Solar's website, so feel free to check them out. As part of our package, we're choosing photos from the entire year and having them bound into a book, so the photos from all five session are actually available on the website, too. If you have the time, it's sort of fun to go through them and see how much she's changed. (Okay, it may just be fun for Jon and I. I don't know.) Anyway, the password is just my email address: alainawebster@gmail.com. Enjoy!

Party Like a Rockstar: A Photo Essay

What's all this? A party? Just for me?*


Oh, you guys! You really shouldn't have. I'm so happy I could squat!


And look at everyone who's here. It's my lovely and talented aunts!


Mommy, what is that? Why is there fire on it? Why is everyone singing? Why am I half-naked? Never mind, I don't care if I'm naked. Can I touch that?


Hmmm, I find this green and brown circle intriguing. It smells delightful...


Birthday cake rocks!


Step away from my cake. I am NOT sharing.


Everyone else seems to be enjoying their cake, too.


And then, like most good parties, there was an awkward and inappropriate make-out session in front of everyone. The whole school is going to be talking about this on Monday...


Then there were wagon rides!


I'm not sure what it says about our daughter, kissing one man at the party, and then catching a ride with someone completely different.


Oh, tissue paper! How rapturous!


I love football (and my new Reesing jersey from my uncle)!


#5, small but mighty


Oh, my head feels so much better without my pig-tails. I'm not sure why everyone's laughing, but I'm just going to go along with it. It can't be at me. I look fabulous!


Fabulous, indeed.

*(All photos by Larry Stoppel and Marc Webster.)

Jon and I would just like to take a moment to thank everyone who came to her party and most of all, our parents for all their help in getting ready, setting up, getting food, and cleaning. Maddie had a great time, and so did we. You guys are also rockstars! Thanks a million!

One-Year Photo Session

Yay! We have pictures from Maddie's one-year photo session with Josh Solar Photography! Yay! As usual, here are a few of our favorites, but you can find more on their blog. We'll also let you know when the full session is up on their website and post a link and password. Enjoy!

Birthday Party Pictures...

The big One Year Celebration pictures will be up very soon. We are compiling everything together, and hope to get it up by the end of the week. They are very good, so everyone knows.

Here is one picture of the birthday girl to start you off!

Happy Birthday, Monkey Face!

To my darlingest, dearest, most wonderful Maddie:

Today, in approximately four hours, give or take a few minutes and seconds, you will be one year old. Of course, you and I have been together for much longer than that. We got to rock out for a whole 40 weeks before anyone else knew you, and while I complained about being pregnant from the moment we saw those double pink lines, I'm so grateful that I got to have you all to myself for that short(ish) amount of time.

As your birthday has gotten closer, I find myself thinking about the day you were born, the most exciting and most terrifying day of our lives for your daddy and me. You see, you almost didn't make it. By the time you read this, I'm sure you'll have heard the story from several people, so I won't make you read it again, but those five minutes between seeing you for the first time and hearing you cry for the first time were the worst five minutes of my life. We had only just met you, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you without even knowing you... And then you cried. And then everything was fine. And then the three of us were alone. And then your daddy and I cried.

You were so tiny and so perfect, with your huge eyes and insane black hair. Even now, I can't imagine loving anyone or anything the way I love you. I feel like I didn't know what love was until you were born, and sometimes it's almost frightening. The feeling is so primal and animal and unlike anything else that it almost feels like too much, like I love you so much it shouldn't be possible, as if you should be crushed and suffocated by the weight of my love.

It's not just emotional either. I can't get enough of you physically. I need to touch you, to kiss your little face, to hold your chunky, baby body and brush your crazy, baby hair. I even take a guilty pleasure in the times you get sick because it means you'll let me snuggle you, let me nap with you, let me just hold you without doing anything else. (Don't get me wrong. It also tears me up when you're sick, and I can't make you feel better. What good is a mommy who can't make it better?)

Now you're walking and talking, and it feels like each step you take is one step farther away from being my baby and one step closer to being my little girl. I know that as you get older, we'll fight, and you'll feel like I don't understand you, that I don't care about you, that I don't love you. So, I want to say now, and always, there is never anything you can do that will make me love you less. It's absolutely impossible for you to lose my love. It is unconditional, forever.

As you get to know me, there will probably be times you'll be surprised that I wrote this. I'm not always very good at expressing myself verbally, which is why I'm writing this now, and I hope to write you a letter every August 19th. Even now, I feel like an incredible cheese-ball as I sit here, trying to show you how I feel, trying not to cry, all happy and sad and unbelievably proud at the same time. You are by far the best "Oops!" your daddy and I ever made, and we can't imagine ours lives without you.

So Happy Birthday Madeline Olivia, my Money-Face, my Madster, my Maddie! Daddy and I love you so much!

Mommy

Whose "Genes" Are You Wearing?

As Maddie reaches the one-year mark, we thought it might be fun to compare pictures of the one-year-old Madster to pictures of her mother and father at about the same age:

First up, we have Jon, who seems to have developed an affinity for overalls and turtlenecks. Also, if you look closely, I believe you will see a certain blue blankie in the background of the last shot...

Next, we have me and my blue ruffles, courtesy of the early '80s. By the way, feel free to make fun of my dad's awesome 'fro. We always do. (Love you, Dad!)

Finally, we have the lovely and talented Madeline Olivia who can always be counted on to bring a certain amount of "goof" to any occasion (unless the occasion is an outdoor photo session, that is.)

So, what do you think? Seeing what we had to work with, we think she turned out pretty well. Any thoughts on who she most resembles right now?