Common Thread

True to my borderline OCD self, even imaginary things in my life are organized.  I have this visual image of the inner workings of my head.  I picture aisles and aisles of filing cabinets.  Each cabinet is titled with major periods of my life.  There's the one labeled "commuting" from my first job out of college when I drove 90 minutes each way to work.  Trivial memories from that time of my life are neatly filed away.  Or the "Baton Rouge" one, appropriately named for our 6-month stint in Louisiana.  Some cabinets are larger than others.  "Houston" has several sub-folders with titles like "fitness" for when I first started teaching aerobics classes and another is "hurricane" for our run-in with Mother Nature.  Other files are cross-referenced like "fitness friends" for a few good girlfriends I met while teaching fitness.  When I start drudging up old memories, I envision cob web-covered hanging files that are heavy with dust.  As the memory comes into focus, I'm mentally blowing the dust off and the rusty cogs start turning as the files are brought to the forefront.

So it was a few Friday nights ago when I ventured to the Chi Omega house at Oklahoma State University (see file "college" sub-folder "Chi-O").  Along with several of my sorority sisters, we went back to our alma mater for a brief get-together and a tour of our renovated sorority house.  Over dinner, we chatted about all that has changed since we pledged over 10 years ago.  The synapses in my brain were on over-drive keeping up with the remember-whens.  I looked at each of the amazing women and thought, "we've done pretty damn good."  I'm biased, sure, but there's no doubt that each of us has obtained success - whether through business, education, finances or family.  I was proud to be sitting with such a great group of women who I can call friends. 

Before reconnecting with these girls, I had been worried that they wouldn't accept me - that they were mad at me for not keeping in touch.  With all of the hubby's job-necessitated hopscotching across the world, I felt like I had fallen off the map, and for all intensive purposes, I had (see file "Almaty" and "Baku").  But, there were no hard feelings.  I may have drifted apart from them since our under-grad days, but our common threads and shared history will always give us a bond and launch pad for conversation.

I add this to my long wish list for Annabelle - that she too will know friendship that can withstand and flourish in spite of life's interruptions.

Chi Omega!

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear! Annabelle, Aug. 1, 2012, 5 months old.

Favorite People

Everyone should have a quirky relative.  Life would be boring otherwise.  Lucky for me, I have 2 and they are a packaged deal:  my Aunt Vicki and Uncle Steve.  These crazy cats play a major role in most of my happiest childhood memories.

I can clearly remember "driving" Uncle Steve's new fishing boat.  It was parked in their driveway.  I was behind the wheel, wind whipping through my hair and Uncle Steve, the good sport that he is, had his fishing pole idling over the side, with a plastic Jaws shark attached at the end.

There was also the time that Uncle Steve made a "house" for me out of a large cardboard box.  Windows were cut, a door was made and my shower was Uncle Steve squirting me with a water gun.

Aunt Vicki was never reluctant to spoil me.  I wanted to take a bath in a big bowl, like I had seen on a cartoon.  Sure, why not.  I wanted to have a tea party with her good China.  Okay.  I wanted to be the waitress and take the guests' orders.  Alright.  I wanted to show off another dance that I had choreographed.  Aunt Vicki would yell, "Now introduuuucing....the amazing, the talented, Brooke!" and I would run out from my hiding spot in the laundry room.  We would do this all afternoon long.

And then there are some more generalized memories.  Like their honeysuckle bush in the front yard.  Uncle Steve taught me how to suck the nectar out.  Or waiting on their watermelons to ripen each summer.  On camping trips, hiking through the woods with Uncle Steve, we were always on the look out for the best walking sticks.  At the beach, Uncle Steve would fly a kite attached to a fishing pole.  It would go waaaay high.  We would scribble silly messages on a napkin and send it up to the kite.  Aunt Vicki taught me to play Crazy 8's.  Bet she regrets that.

But as these things go, I got older (read: a sassy, unappreciative teenager) and saw my relatives less.  I went to college, got married, moved away from home and started a career.  Life happened.  It wasn't until I moved to Houston, walking my dogs early one spring morning, that I caught the smell of honeysuckle in bloom.  I was immediately transported back to their front porch, circa 1984.  And I smiled and I reminisced.  What a lovely memory.

We do our best these days to stay in touch.  We see each other a few times a year.  And it's always so good to hug them and tell them I love them.  Because I do.  They are some of my favorite people.

Me & Aunt Vicki, Christmas Eve 2010

Oh, I get it

I used to watch the evening news with passing disinterest.  Specifically, stories on child abuse were horrific, but far removed from my life.  Accounts of a missing child, were just another "bless them little hearts" moment.  But in the past few months, I have gone from sympathetic to empathetic.  A complete visceral reaction consumes me when I see these same abhorrent news clips.  It's something about seeing my baby in the face of all of those other children that brings it home.  I sometimes cry and sometimes I say a little prayer.  I always hug my precious baby and vow to protect her.

I want AnnaB to grow up never experiencing anything negative.  I know she will, but a mom can hope, right?  There's a Pink song that shuffles through my Ipod that makes me sing aloud.  It's an anthem of sorts for AnnaB.  The chorus goes:
Pretty pretty please!
Don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than perfect
Pretty pretty please!
If you ever feel like you're nothing, you're perfect to me.

My wish is for AnnaB to grow up strong.  Strong in character and strong in confidence.  Because she is perfect.  And if I do my job right, she too will some day understand all of this.

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear! Annabelle, 4 months old, July 1, 2012.

Clearing my conscience

I have a heavy-hearted admission to make.   I've been neglecting my dogs.  Before the baby, they were my whole world (well, them + the hubby).  While living in Almaty and then Baku, there were some days when they'd be my only source of conversation.  Granted, it was a one-sided convo, but at least it was in English, and I have no doubt that they actually do understand a bit of what I say.

The two girl dogs have been in my life for 9 years.  They've been excellent friends.  Pete the big white dog has only been around for 7 years and he didn't make the trip overseas, but he too, has been a confidant and superior guard dog.  And then I go and betray them.  I've given my heart to someone else.  It's embarrassing to think that I could be so fickle.  It just happened.  I left them at home one morning, checked into a hospital, came back a few days later a changed person.  Suddenly they are just dogs.  I still rise before the sun to take them on a walk.  They still get 2 meals a day and all-you-can drink fresh water.  But, I'm ashamed to admit that there are nights, when I'm climbing into bed and I wonder, "Did I even pet them today?"  "Did I offer a scratch behind the ear or a word of praise?"  I feel horrible about all of this.  Honestly, it's a heavy burden.  I'm hopeful that there will be a day soon when the baby can take joy in having the dogs.  I'm hopeful that she'll laugh at their wagging tails and squeal at their wet, sloppy kisses.  And maybe then, I can make it right with the furry kids again.  When we can all join in the petting and praising, then they won't have to be on the back burner.  I want us to be one big, happy family.  Fur and all.

The whole gang, pre-baby.

Daddy and his girls doing tummy time.

Bragging Rights

I feel that it would be silly of me to brag about all of the mundane milestones that Annabelle has achieved over the past 3 months.  I also think it would be futile to mention all of the reasons why I love being a mom.  It just seems a bit pointless simply because it's everything that everyone told me it would be.  Everyone said that I couldn't possibly understand until I was personally experiencing it and turns out, they were right.  As an active, young married woman, I often wondered, "Why in the world would anyone want to disrupt their lives by having a child?"  And then we did and now I know.  It's like I now belong to some secret club.  The all-knowing mommy club.  And I'm now privilege to some amazing truths, which I had previously believed to only be cliche:

Children bring depth to your life.
It's thrilling to see the world through a child's eyes.
Watching a child blossom is incredibly rewarding.
You never knew that you could love something so much until you are holding your baby.

And I'm certain that there are many more that I have yet to experience.

Oh, and Annabelle is already an over achiever.  She has a tooth at only 3 months old. 

First time at the pool with Aunt Shawna.

Mastering the art of sitting up/propped up.

Looking a bit like Cee Lo.  Too bad her chair doesn't revolve.

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear.  June 1, Annabelle, 3 months old.

Month 2 & Beyond

The month of April saw my first race since having Annabelle.  The Redbud Classic 10k is a true classic in Oklahoma City.  This event is one of the things I have always looked forward to, even when we were living elsewhere and I had to live vicariously through other runners.  I posted a pbpb, you know, a "post-baby personal best" of 9:15 per mile.  Not too shabby for having a 6-week old.  AnnaB and the hubby supported me at the finish line.  What a wonderful show of love!

My turn to reciprocate came at the end of April, when the hubby did the OKC Marathon.  All 26.2 miles of it.  His first full marathon and AnnaB's first time to make posters.

AnnaB and her rockstar daddy after the marathon

In the midst of all of this running, the hubby and I had our first date night, sans baby.  Sushi dinner and the last regular season OKC Thunder game in corporate box seats. AnnaB had her first Easter and I celebrated my first Mother's Day.  From home, we cheered on the OKC Thunder in the NBA playoffs and enjoyed the fine Oklahoma weather.

First date night

Just two cool chicks enjoying the sunshine

Cheering on the home team.  Too bad that this onesie makes her look like a boy!

 I suppose that's what the first year is all about...firsts.  We're looking forward to all of it.

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear - Annabelle, 2 months old, May 1, 2012.

Unsolicited Advice

It's been everything I thought it could be.  Incredible, exhausting, exciting, exhausting, fantastic, exhausting, eye-opening, exhausting, awe-inspiring, exhausting.  How can something so little make your heart ache and soar all at the same time?  All 9 pounds of Annabelle are precious and I love her so much.  It really is amazing that one day this little person, who is a complete stranger, arrives in your life, demands so much and you just suddenly love them, for no real reason at all.  She is perfect in every baby way.

I've tried to keep all of the challenges in perspective and the best tidbit came from my friend Donna, who is a mother of two grown children.  She is a Louisiana native living in Baku.  Donna said,

"Women wear lots of hats - daughter, sister, wife, employee, boss, etc; MOM has always been my favorite.  If I could offer some unsolicited advice...don't wish it all away.  Certain stages of parenthood are more challenging than others and we tend to think, "I can't wait till she sleeps through the night, holds her own bottle, eats table food, sits up, etc,"  Don't.  Enjoy every stage because before you know it, they're walking across the stage at their college graduation ready to take on the world and you're wondering where the time went."

I immediately thanked Donna for making me cry.  And then sincerely thanked her for knowing just the right thing to say at just the right time.   I'm still exhausted, but happily so.

New Born Pics, courtesy Melanie Wright:

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear! Annabelle, 1 month old, April 1, 2012