A Year of June

I've been putting this off because much like her birth story, I felt if I didn't put it into words, it wouldn't have to be real. If I didn't talk about it, she wouldn't actually be a toddler now. But the reality is, she is a toddler; a feisty, sassy, saucy, busy toddler. 

We celebrated her actual birthday at my parent's house with my mom, dad, brother, grandparents, and our dear Galarzas. By the time I got there from work she had already opened her present from my grandparents and would not stop playing with it. They got her a ride-on grocery cart type thing. It makes noise and she is hilarious with it. She loves flinging her leg over it and pushing herself forward and backward all over our living room. Our dinner on her real birthday was pizza and while it wasn't the first time she had had it, she was pretty into it this time. Then was the part I had been waiting for - cake. I was so anxious to see her reaction to her first real dessert. My mom had made a cute little funfetti cake just for her and we put a candle in it and sang. She loved the singing part. She clapped along and smiled bigger than I've ever seen. The candle blew out and she smacked her hand into the frosting. She immediately looked at us with a face that said, "what the hell is this?" She wiped it on the highchair and tried again. Still didn't take a bite or seem interested. I finally took a little bit of the cake itself and fed it to her. She was unimpressed. So much for her first cake. 

Her birthday party was a day of emotions for me. I was stressed, sad, happy and anxious. The party turned out amazingly well. I had lost sight of the fact that all we really needed was our near and dear and my baby doll, June. Her second exposure to cake was just as stoic. I really don't think she likes the fact that it was so messy. She melted down about 30 minutes before the party was officially over due to lack of a morning nap and being around too many people. Luckily her adoring public understood. 

We also had her one year check up the Friday between her birthday and her party. She's a big kid, I'll say that much. My little lady has been in the 95th percentile and above for both height and weight her whole life. And she's showing no signs of slowing down. Let's take a look at our handy Baby Center Milestone Chart:

12 months

Imitates others' activities Indicates wants with gestures

Takes a few steps Says one word besides "mama" or "dada"

Walks alone Scribbles with a crayon Says two words besides "mama" or "dada"

June is a big imitator and I mean that in a good way. She indicates wants with gestures like pointing, which is the cutest thing in the universe. 

She's walking pretty much full time but her language is developing a little more slowly than I expected. 

She walks alone and would probably go for walks around the neighborhood alone, if we'd let her. We've honestly never tried a pen or crayon to see if she would scribble. She does use a fork fairly well, though. And again, the language is a little slow. 

I actually had a few concerns about her language that our wonderful pediatrician addressed. She calls Thomas "Dada" very consistently but doesn't really use other words consistently. We've heard her say things like, "yeah" and "bub" and "Lisa" and "Pop" but not all the time. Our doctor said that some kids won't say their real first words until 15 months and that as long as she is vocalizing, she's okay. I think I was putting pressure on myself (and her) because she's always been very advanced in every other area that I assumed she would talk early too. I've also always talked to her all day long and I know my parents do when she's there too. We just talk to her about everything that we're doing. that's the best way for them to develop language. So it almost felt like I was doing everything right and yet I was still failing. I know, that's silly. But that's what this weird mommy guilt/emotion does to you sometimes. 

So friends, my dear baby is one. And here's my favorite picture of her in recent times.

11 Months!

          June is eleven months old. This is the first month where I have felt more on the side of "she's been in our lives forever and ever" than the side of "how is she growing up so fast?!" She is growing up fast but as we're nearing a year, it feels like we're about to hit thirteen instead. June's...passion...shall we say, is becoming more and more evident by the spectacular fits she has been throwing. It's amazing to me that such a small human can have so much emotion inside of her.

         She has started to "kiss" us. It's a rare occurrence but every so often I can ask for a kiss and she'll come at me open mouth and smother me. This has caused the greatest joy in my heart. For a girl who is so anti-cuddling it means a lot to her highly affectionate mom that she's starting to love a little bit.

          Before I overload you on overly adorable pictures, let's take a look at our handy Baby Center chart.

11 months

Says "mama" or "dada" to the correct parent Plays patty-cake and peek-a-boo Stands alone for a couple of seconds Cruises

Understands "no" and simple instructions Puts objects into a container

Says one word besides "mama" or "dada" Stoops from standing position

          June calls Thomas "Dada" and me...nothing. Unless she's mad and then she yells, "MAMA!" Which usually means she wants me. She's a huge fan of peek-a-boo. Stands for more than a couple of seconds and does nothing but cruises.

          She definitely understands "no," not that she likes it but she gets it for sure. She loves taking things out of a wipe container and them putting them all back in. 

          Junie says a lot of words: hey, hi, yeah, bub (Henry, our dog), Lisa (I'll explain that one in a minute), Pop (my dad), and baba (bottle). She can definitely stoop from standing and uses that to horde toys. 

          My mom runs a family daycare out of her house and that's where June goes while we're at work. My mom's name is Lisa. The other daycare kids call her Lisa. June now calls her grandma, Lisa. It's hilarious. I don't know how to correct her when she's around other kids that don't call her Grammy all day! I've thought of trying to figure out a cute nickname that goes with Lisa so that Junie can call her that but nothing is working. At least she even calls her something. I still don't get a name unless she's angry.

          June's favorite thing to do, beside stand and hold as many things in her arms as possible, is reading. Books are her activity of choice. I currently write for Parenting OC and just chronicled my love of books and the hope I have for June. I'd love if you'd pop over there, too. 

          And now, some pictures of my hilarious, sweet, smart and precious ELEVEN month old!

She loves books, I wasn't kidding!

We needed a break at the beach.

She LOVED crawling in the sand. This is a huge change from our last beach day!

Some wild hair and her constant companion, bunny.

Are you even kidding me with this face? I don't know how I got so lucky to be her momma.

SOS Beach Edition

June had never been to beach. I KNOW, I'm a bad mother. We live 20 minutes from the beach and have taken her once when she was 4 months old and she was asleep and it was at night. So that doesn't count. She's now old enough to fully appreciate the sights and sounds. And also, she's awake.

Thomas and I packed up the ware - 4 chairs, 4 towels, an umbrella, a large quilt, hats, sunscreen, snacks, water, buckets,shovels, cameras, pacifiers, and the baby. My mom and dad joined us for the momentous occasion. 

Parking was a beast, to put it lightly. We circled two parking lots for about 20 minutes while June wailed in her car seat because if she's not sleeping in the car, she's yelling in the car. My favorite thing about her throwing a fit though is that in the midst of yelling and crying, she blows raspberries. Like she's just so frustrated that it's the only thing she can muster. Adorable.

We finally found a spot and hauled our things to the sand. We were anxious for her to actually feel the water and so we set up shop and ran down the to the shore. Thomas held her and put her feet in, she was stoic. Didn't disapprove but didn't seem to enjoy it either. He sat down with her and let waves crash on her lap. Nothing. No smiles. No cries. Nada. I believe she was humbled by the awesomeness that is the ocean and just couldn't even respond. Or she was bored. Whatevs.

On me>> bathing suit top: Target // bottoms: Lands End // sunglasses: H&M. On June>> bathing suit: Target // hat: Target. On Thomas>> bathing suit: Rip Curl. // hair: the heavens.

So this day could technically could be sponsored by Target. Seriously, so many Target items all over us, all of the time.

Here are some more Junie v. Ocean pictures. 

Enjoy! 

Thomas carved June's name into the sand. This was her reaction.

That was her face most of the day. So aloof.

I just love that you can see her tooth. And she looks like Gilligan.

This was the closest we got to a smile.

Ignore my large breasts (and body) and focus on my adorably nonchalant baby and her fountain ponytail.

Beach day was a success. Do you guys have any tips for beach days or days out? What are your essentials and must haves?

We're linking up again with Mz. Mandy over at The Haps!

My Carpet, The Bachelorette, and Henry

Oh friends, what a crazy few weeks we've had around the Kellogg Manor. We've moved! We have a stander! We have teeth! 

But frankly, that's not what I'm here to talk about. 

Let's start with my carpet. In the morning after June eats her breakfast (consisting of a fruit and cheerios or bread) I usually change her diaper and let her crawl around bare bottomed. It's good for her to air out a little bit and she absolutely loves it. She squeals, in fact. This morning we were having a play date with my dear friend Natalie who is pregnant and due in August. (I want to state here and now that I think BP is a GIRL. Let the record state that I'm probably right.) So I threw June into this cute boho dress that reminds me of my friend and proceeded to change her diaper. I let her air out for a few minutes before she started fussing. I picked her up and tried to put a diaper on her. The carpet was wet and warm. Her dress had an odd spot on it. Henry was on the other side of the room so my first suspect was out. June had in fact peed on the floor and then crawled into it. My little lady, always so delicate. First wardrobe change of the day for her.

We walked to the Orange Circle, had some Frappuccinos, a little lunch and came home. June was fussy so she laid down for her second nap while Nat and I caught up on life. (So very much needed, I love my Natalie.) Nat and Harper (her dog who is Henry's best friend) left and I got comfortable on the couch. Not 10 minutes later did June wake up. Oh life, you silly wench. 

Fast forward through Target and a frustrating return/exchange and through dinner. June was tired, so was I, so I laid her down for the night. She cried and cried and cried. I think she just wanted a bottle rather than to sleep. I let her play around in the living room for a while longer. June played, I watched an episode of Family Ties (yeah, my new favorite show on Netflix- slowly working my way through all 7 seasons) and Henry barfed on the carpet, twice. It was a strange yellow color so I rushed to clean it up and take him into the kitchen to throw up on the tile. 

The excitement was apparently too much for June who then proceeded to throw up on the carpet. Maybe she felt left out? All I know is that my living room got peed on, dog vomit and baby spit up on it all within 6 hours. You're welcome for this story.

Who watches The Bachelorette? LET'S BE FRIENDS! 

Who do you like? Who do you NOT like? I won't tell you who goes home for those of you who DVR it and watch it later. We no longer have a DVR so we have to watch it like the olden days; when it's actually airing. 

For the record, I like Ari, Jef and Doug.

I don't like Alessandro (WHO IS HE?), Kalon and the other nondescript ones.

Guys, Henry snipped at June today. He didn't actually bite her but she crawled on top of him and he wasn't having it and barked in her face. She cried, I freaked the freak out, reprimanded him and then cried myself. I was home alone with them so I had no back up to figure out what to actually do so I felt even sadder. Henry is currently curled up rightnexttome like he thinks I may sell him. He's been so good with her that I'm at a loss. What do I do? How do you deal with dogs and babies? She obviously needs to learn his boundaries but she's a baby and he can't be all snappy with her. Ideas?

I'll leave you with a picture of my favorite wall in the house. Thomas and I put this all up on Saturday. I'm in love with it. (Also, yes, I wrote that poem. Got asked that a few times already.)

MARRY ME, WALL! 

 Also, follow me on Instagram! AmberKellogg for all your too adorable pictures of June, Henry and me without makeup!

 

Judgements

There's something I've worried about for years that I'm just realizing I've been wasting energy on.

My tattoos.

Being a tattooed mother.

Being judged in public with my child.

But guess what? 

I haven't experienced it yet.

I got my first tattoo at age 18. It was hidden on my back below my waistline so I knew my parents wouldn't see it. I've never been very good at hiding things from my mom though, this wave of guilt always washes over me leaving me sweaty and nauseous. The next morning I took her aside and softly said, 

 "I have to show you something."

I pulled up my shirt and revealed the inch long waves that formed the symbol of my zodiac sign. She was disappointed but glad I told her. My next tattoo went the same way. Got it on a whim, only revealed it later. 

I've wizened up though. I tell my parents of my upcoming ink and they're fine with them. In fact, my dad has been known to brag about how pretty they are. The only person in my family that I have a hard time sharing my tattoos with is my maternal grandma. She lamented for years about how I would look in a wedding dress. (I looked gorgeous, btw.) A month after our wedding I got a new tattoo and my grandma still hadn't seen it up until this past weekend. I was feeling brave so I wore a short sleeved shirt and the bottom of the tattoo peeked out of the bottom. It didn't go horribly but suffice it to say, she's not a fan.

I guess because I've been judged before due to my tattoos I assumed that it would only be worse now that I have a child. In all honesty, I haven't noticed a thing. I haven't caught any side eyed looks, any hushed whispering as I walk by or raised eyebrows. 

Here's my guess though - I'm too busy raising a child to notice judgement being passed. I no longer have the time or energy to care about what a stranger thinks about my body. My daughter is my main priority. She's the only thing that focuses and drives me. 

Or maybe people are stunned by my daughter's beauty to notice my tattoos. Probably that.

Photo by the amazing Rebecca Dever. Also, no makeup. And minus one tattoo.

Moving Day

Since we were given the go ahead to give June her very own room I've been dreaming and thinking about the decorating part. What colors we were going to use. What blankets and quilts would adorn her bed. 

We started setting it up last week and the room is adorable. Her name above her bed, pictures of her as a teeny newborn on her walls, special frames of June with mommy and daddy. She has a special quilt our dear Stacy made her on a rocking chair, the cozy quilt Grammy (my mom) made her draped over the side of her crib.

Rocking chair.

We still need to paint that rail.

June's special quilt and bunny.

Special pictures and piggy bank.

What I didn't give much thought was the fact that she would be sleeping in her own room. Yesterday was my birthday and what I chose to do was finally get our rooms in order. Ian and Thomas and I were switching and we had to get a few more things into June's room. From 5 to 10pm Ian and Thomas worked tirelessly to clean and organize our respective wares. June fell asleep downstairs around 7 but her room wasn't quite together yet. I lent a hand and had her room ready by 830. Snug in her own bed, in her big girl room, I turned on the monitor and closed the door. I was so happy for her to have her own independent space.

Thomas and I got into bed around 10 and I burst into tears. June was ready for her own space but I wasn't. My sweet little 5-days-away-from-5-month old was alone. Would she wake up scared? Was she cold? Would she get confused? Am I betraying her? Thomas kept reassuring me that she was safe but it wasn't simply her physical safety. I was afraid that she was emotionally unsafe. 

Now, logically, I know that she won't remember this and that she's the perfect age to transition but I was overwhelmed with the idea that she was growing up. She's still my little baby love but she'll never be my newborn again. She'll never be a 2, 3, 4 month old again. I love that she's growing and learning and becoming a small comic genius.

This growing up thing is hard.

32 Week Check Up.

I really like going to the doctor. I know, I'm crazy but there's something strangely reassuring about getting to talk exclusively about the baby and my other favorite subject, me. I also love the fact that my OB is a solo practitioner so he only has one nurse and one front desk admin. So they know me by name and it feels more intimate and like a little family. 

The only part I don't like about going to the doctor is the scale. Call me a typical female but the scale sucks. I've talked about my feelings of superiority about my previous weight gain and how it bit me in the ass when I gained 8 pounds in 4 weeks at 28 weeks. Well, this week was worse. Last check up was 2 weeks ago and I had gained 2 pounds at 189, right on point. I hate the scale at the office even more because it's one of the older ones where you have to manually move the numbers. Of course it started at 150 and she moved the other part up, and up, and past the usual 30s and into the 40s. It stopped at 44. Add those two numbers together. 194. I gained FIVE POUNDS in TWO WEEKS. How the hell do I keep doing this?! 

I was, yet again, concerned that Dr. Man would be upset with me. He, yet again, wasn't. He said overall my gain of 26 pounds at 32 weeks is perfect and that he's not concerned. I always hear these horror stories of women getting reamed for gaining too much or too little or the wrong way or whatever but Dr. Man is so reassuring. I wish every woman could have the same experience as I have had with him. He is so laid back and calm and always answers my inane questions. His suggestion was to try to fit in a little more activity, even through the pesky contractions and "maybe lay off carbs." His words exactly. He knows me too well...

I had been reading this past week how you can palpate (basically feel) the baby and get a pretty good estimate of the weight and how it's often more accurate than an ultrasound because of all of things ultrasounds don't take into consideration (position of mother, levels of fluid, etc). I asked Dr. Man if he would be up for giving me a rough idea. He grabbed her head, which is down in my pelvis and felt all the way up. Her little knees are in my left side (usually in my ribs) and her butt is wedged in my right side. It was pretty neat how he could totally tell where everything is located. His guesstimate is that she weighs around 4.5 pounds and will most likely gain another 4 pounds before delivery. I had a dream a few weeks ago that Junie weighed 8 pounds, 12 ounces and was 22 inches long so I'm very curious how close my intuition will be! Dr. Man is equally curious now!

I want to draw this on my belly before my next appointment.

I didn't blog about this for some reason but for the past two weeks I've been having a ton of contractions. They're only Braxton Hicks but they landed me in L&D last Monday. Everything was fine, no dilation, no effacement, nothing to be really worried about. Dr. Man did say to limit my activity as my body tolerated. Well, my body hasn't been tolerating any activity. It's still contracting pretty much every time I stand up. They're getting more uncomfortable and frequent. Today he told me to call if I have more than 6 in an hour. So at least now I have a number in mind and anything under that is okay. I asked him if maybe because of all of these contractions preparing my uterus my labor will be a little easier. His reaction: a funny smile and almost snort like laugh, "well, maybe." I'm going to keep telling myself that...

My First Baby

I never understood those couples who called their dogs their "babies." I get loving your pets but really, treating them like your children? That seemed a little inane to me. 

And then came Henry.

For our three year anniversary (September 15, 2010) I only asked for one gift. I wanted a dog. My family got our first dog when I was 10 and he died when I was 21. It was the most devastating loss. (No, I've never lost a close family member but I did have 5 friends die within 2 years so I have experienced grief but there's something different about losing an animal, I digress.) We got another dog within a few months that is now my parents fourth child and they spoil him rotten. He's also 100lbs but thinks he's a lap dog.

Now that Thomas and I were on our own, I really wanted a dog that was ours. Not our parents' dogs, but one we cared for together. Thomas agreed that we could look for a dog but was very clear that it would be my dog, not ours. He wanted no part of it. He would go with me, look, pay and then it was my responsibility and my animal - not his. I agreed to this, hoping secretly that he would change his mind and come around to loving the dog like I knew I would. I searched and searched online for dogs at local shelters. I was very adamant about rescuing a dog and not supporting pet stores (and in the long run, puppy mills). After about 2 weeks of searching, I found the perfect Jack Russell Terrier at a shelter about 20 minutes from our house. He was adorable, brown and white, about 10 pounds, and already neutered so that would cut down costs. Thomas agreed to go with me to look at this pup on a warm Sunday in August. We drove there and I told him all the names I was thinking of, the best of which I thought was "Ellis." The pound had named this terrier already but of course we would rename him.

We walked past the kennels of barking and whimpering dogs, all staring at us, pleading to take them home. This part of the process always kills me. I cannot stand seeing dogs caged and sad and alone and hot - it absolutely breaks my soul. We got to the kennel where our precious terrier was and he seemed happy to see us! He barked and jumped, and barked and jumped, and barked, and barked, and barked. I swear he was doing flips and jumping off the walls. He was certainly cute but I looked at Thomas and the look he gave me back was one of trepidation. It would not be fair to keep such a hyper dog in our small apartment. I knew that. We needed a dog that was a little more mellow and laid back. The kennel to the left of my first choice was this small, blond, sad looking puppy. He wasn't barking, wasn't crying, just looking around like he truly hated where he was. We had no idea what breed he was or how old, he hadn't even been named by the pound. Thomas said, "let's see how this one is out of the cage." I could see that this puppy looking business was kind of growing on him. Thomas went to ask the workers if we could take this little guy out and I stood by the kennel to talk to him. He stood up to the gate when I went to pet him and was very affectionate.

The attendant came over and took the little yellow puppy to the fenced area where we could play with him. We went in and he ran straight to Thomas. I got on the floor and tried to play with him but he really took to Thomas. He let me pet him a little but he clearly had his favorite. This little dog never barked, never whined, didn't jump, he was truly a calm and loving little guy. As Thomas pet him, I knew this was the one for us. We talked it over in our little fenced in space and decided this was our adorable pound puppy. Unfortunately because he wasn't neutered yet he had to stay there and get fixed before we could take him home (in CA all animals adopted through shelters must be fixed before they are taken home, a law I completely support). This broke my heart, I hated leaving him behind.

On our way home we texted both sets of parents announcing our new arrival. The pound would call us when he was ready to be picked up. We were on our way to becoming pet parents! We named him Henry (Thomas suggested it and I agreed, he was totally a Henry) and he was our baby.

The first picture of our baby.

Over the next few months, he really truly became our baby. He was our constant companion and we took him everywhere. He slept in our bed, usually right between us or between our legs. He still is our baby, except now we're going to have a human baby. 

Yesterday Thomas took a "Daddy Boot Camp" and they advised them to start paying less attention to pets so that they don't blame the baby when it arrives. It makes sense, we will have less time to be with Henry and we don't want him to see June as competition. However, it still makes me cry when I think about it. He was our first, our trial run.

But starting soon we will make him sleep downstairs rather than with us. He'll be fine, I know but I love our morning puppy cuddles, the routine Thomas and I have for letting him out and the way he lays under the covers with us. 

My little baby boy is growing up. 

And I'm officially one of those weird dog moms.

How could you not love this snaggle tooth face?