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My daughter is very opinionated.  I didn't realize that such a little person could have such a big personality.  One thing you have to know about Jillian right off is that she likes to tell you exactly what she thinks.  When she's happy, she's all smiles and giggles.  When she's tired, she dramatically talks a long "waaaaahh" followed by around 5 minutes of complaining "hmphs" and she drifts into sleep.  And when she's mad, oh man, does that girl get mad.

One of the things that's really developed recently is her love of certain items.  She's got quite a few favorite things.  And if she wants one of her favorite things, she lets you know with lots of grunting, babbling, and cooing.  Unfortunately, being only five months old (although I swear at times she thinks she's much bigger!), she can't exactly tell me what she wants.  So we go throw the motions of figuring out what she wants. 

Does she want her George Girraffe?  (Rrrraaaaaaaaaahhhh!)  Nope.

How about her Winkle rattle toy?  (Bbbttttthhhhhppppppaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!)  Nope.

Maybe she wants her ball?  (AAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH UH UH UH UH!)  Definately not.

Anyway, we go through her toys until all of a sudden:

Do you want your orange lizard chewy thing?  (Ah!  Ah!  Ah!  Oh!  Giggle, coo, giggle.)  Okay.  That's what she wants.

Being the mom of such an opinionated little squirt is hard work.  But, I've figured out her favorite things at least, so that does help.

Her favorite color is orange.  Followed closely by fire engine red.

Her favorite book is "Bunny's Noisy Book" by Margaret Wise Brown.  We could read that book over and over (and sometimes do) and she always squeals in delight as we go.

The mornings are her favorite for tummy time, and her favorite toy to try to reach for is her orange lizard "Spock."

Her favorite game while sitting is to knock over the stack of rings from her little ring stack toy.  (You know, the one with the yellow pole on the white base and you stack the big blue, smaller green, even smaller yellow, smaller than that orange, and smallest of all red rings on it.)

If she's sitting in her bumbo while Mommy cooks/cleans/whatever in the kitchen, she must, MUST, have her white spoon.  If you try to give her any other kitchen object, she throws it down and won't take it back.  But her white spoon, that's love.

I love being able to make her happy.  I love that she's old enough to really start showing herself to us.  I can't wait for her passport to arrive, so we can take that 9 hour plane ride back to Ohio and she can meet her family there.  I wonder if her preferences will carry transcontinentally?  Or if Ohio will affect her interests?  I can't wait to find out!

Wake Up!

My daughter has a great sense of humor.  I can tell that already.  There's a few things that make me say this.  One is that she's figured out that if Daddy pats her on the back and she says "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh!"  it comes out like "Waa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-hh!"  So she'll do that for a little while, and looks very pleased with herself.  Another is that she thinks it's hilarious if I "eat" her hand, and will keep putting her hand up to my mouth for me to "Nom!  Nom!  Nom!"  and she'll smile and laugh.

But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks. 

As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family.  Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family.  And it works great for us.  Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest.  Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.

It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day.  Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world.  She pets my face.  Literally.

Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?"  It's hilarious.  Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet.  It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.

Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet.  As in, I think she thinks she owns me.  And she kind of does.  Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!"  And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt.  Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.

Then there's the banana incident, and others like it.  Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana.  She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth.  It rocked her world.  She LOVES her bananas.  We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree.  Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh!  Oooooo!  Oooh!  Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing.  She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew.  Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.

All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person.  Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities.  Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.

And she's becoming quite bossy.  It cracks me up!

Cyclosporine

Cyclosporine is a drug given mainly to patients before receiving an organ transplant.  It supresses the body's immune system so the body doesn't reject the new organ.  It's also used as a treatment for cancer, although I'm not exactly sure why.  Rarely, it's used by people with skin disorders like psoriasis when no other treatments yield results.

Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.

Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues.  Most users will experience side effects to some degree.

Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach.  He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar.  Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler.  It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better.  He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so.  The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel.  At least with the fatigue he's not in pain. 

He has definate mood swings.  One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone.  I'm learning to deal with it.  My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.

He's still having break outs.  He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.

I hate cyclosporine.  I hate the way it makes him feel.  I hate that I can't make him better.  I hate that it doesn't make him better.

And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope.  We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force.  We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal.  We know this is the beginning of the end.  Of that, we're both certain.  And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.

It's hard.  It's so freaking hard.  We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane."  You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart?  We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car.  We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.

And then we have a serious discussion about it.  About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad.  About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join.  About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us.  About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble.  About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.

I keep it together, for the most part.  I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it.  The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly.  My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children.  I love being home with her.  But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?

There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach.  I just want him to get better.  Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better.  I want him to get better so bad it hurts.  It makes me angry.  It makes me question why.  Why is this happening to him?  It makes me question God. 

I want so much for my family, especially my daughter.  I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her.  I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations.  And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job.  One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.

I'm terrified.

My first real Mother's Day

On my very first Mother's Day, my husband surprised me with a bottle of Victoria's Secret Love Spell, a bouquet of flowers, and a cute card saying something along the lines of being for "A Mom-to-be on Mother's Day."  We were celebrating becoming parents to the being inside who was around 8 weeks along.  I was showered with "Happy Mother's Days" from loving friends and family.  My mom even made me a homemade Mother-to-be's Day card in celebration.  What we didn't know then, was that two weeks later I'd be receiving another bouquet of flowers from my husband, and more wishes from others, but this time in mourning of the life that should have been.  That was Mother's Day 2009, and before that terrible moment that changed me forever, I celebrated and was happy.

Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me.  I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother.  My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet.  I was very torn.  Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing.  Mainly just longing.  I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too.  I was after all a mother.  But I felt very odd.  Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air?  It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost.  Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly.  I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks.  (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy.  Perhaps another time.)

This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with.  So this day, I celebrate her, not me.  I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian.  I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived.  Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour.  She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude.  The same when she giggles.  The same when she looks at me.  When she blinks.  When she cries.  When she eats.  When she sleeps.  Pretty much when she does anything.  I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back.  Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me. 

We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her.  And she "played" in a park for the first time.  We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello.  (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.) 

And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about.  For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children.  For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours.  For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests.  This day is for us.

Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today.  You have blessed me beyond what I deserve. 

Return of the Foodie

Yes, that's right.  I finally am making another food post!  Can you hear the crowd cheering?  And by crowd I mean me.  Woooot!

I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born.  You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house.  Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own.  And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over.  (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment.  It was yummy.)

But tonight, my readers, it was on.  I felt the itch.  I needed to invent something.  But what?

History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo.  Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico.  In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans.  I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato.  Party hardy.

In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance."  It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty.  And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so.  Here's what I had.

                   ~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
                   ~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
                  ~ 3/4 cup water, divided
                  ~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
                  ~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
                  ~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
                  ~ 1 can whole kernel corn
                  ~  1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*

And here's what I did.

Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so.  Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water.  Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes.  Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet.  Reduce heat to low.  Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa.  Mix together.  Add in pepper strips and corn.  Mix together.  Place chicken on top.  Smother with cheese and serve.

The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.

It was so, so yummy!  Next time, though, I'm going to add in a can of black beans.  I didn't have any in the cupboard this time.

It's nice to get back to doing something I love!

* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover.  Use as much or as little as your heart desires!

Amazing!

Being a woman is amazing.  It really is.  Some days I feel like a superhero.  Today is one of those days.

Being a woman means that I got to feel life growing inside me.  A life that started as small as the period at the end of this sentence, and grew from that tiny dot to an almost eight pound, fully formed little human being in nine months time.  My body sheltered her and provided for her.  Every detail of her little body, from her dark brown hair to her teeny little toenails, grew with my help.  And when this tiny little girl was ready, my body got her out into this world.  Nine months of work met the world with 14 hours of work, from the first drip of pitocin to the final push.  And in a matter of weeks my body healed itself and went back to it's normal, not pregnant state.

And her she is, three months later, and still being nourished by me.  My body continues to provide everything she needs to grow and thrive.  From 20 inches long and 7 pounds 14 ounces at birth, my sweet little girl is now 24.5 inches long and 14 pounds 11 ounces.  In three months, she's grown an astounding four and a half inches and is almost 7 pounds heavier.  She is growing by leaps and bounds, and it is all because of me.  My milk makes her grow this much.

And that makes me feel like a superhero. 

For those who asked about cloth diapering...

Let me begin by saying I am no expert.  I am just a beginner.  But now that I've started, I love it!  And when I love something, I love sharing that something. 

Lots of people have asked me in recent days about cloth diapers.  Personally, when I was pregnant I thought briefly about it, but when Marshall said "No way!" I didn't argue, thinking I didn't want to mess with pins and poop anyway.  I didn't really look much into it, and didn't think anyone really did cloth diapering anymore anyway.  It was pushed out of my mind.  The end.  Little did I know that even with disposables I'd have to touch and deal with baby poop anyway!

After Jilly was born, a friend of mine (hi, Krystal!) started talking to me a bit about cloth diapering.  I saw pictures of her sons wearing cloth diapers and thought, "Wow, those are really cute!  Is that what cloth diapering is?"  Krystal sent me a diaper to inspect and try, and I was super surprised how cute and easy to use it was.  So I started asking her a million questions, and started doing some research on my own.  She gave me some great links to sites that sell diapers, and I saw that I could make it as expensive or affordable and I wanted.  And it wasn't too expensive to start either.  So I started buying diapers, detergent, pail liners, wet/dry bags, and became so excited to start.

Lots of people have asked me in recent days how this works.  So, I made a little tutorial of pictures to post here.  This will show you all what they look like and how to use them.  I think you'll be surprised.  I know I was.

There's a few different types of cloth diapers, but what I settled on are pocket diapers.  These come in two components: the cover and the insert.


On left, the cover.  On right, the insert.

 Pocket diapers are so called because the diaper is a pocket that you stuff th insert into.  As if you couldn't figure that out for yourselves, hee hee.


The pocket

 While they do sell cloth in sizes, the most economical option is the one size cloth diaper.  The one size diaper contains a row of snaps to adjust the length of the diaper.


The vertical rows of snaps are to adjust the length.

 The snaps on our Sunbaby diapers give you three settings for length.  Unsapped is large, snapped to the top row is medium, and snapped to the bottom is a small.  Jilly wears a medium right now, so I snapped the diaper to the top row.


Super easy!

 After adjusting the diaper to the correct size if needed, you slip the insert into the pocket.

Your whole hand can easily fit into the pocket, so slipping in the insert is quick and easy.

The stuffed diaiper (and hi, Lisa feet!)

I put the diaper on Jilly's favortie stuffed animal for viewing purposes.  Putting on the diaper is really easy.  They go on just like a disposable.  There's a row of snaps for a hip adjustment and a row for the width adjustment.

The many snaps let you get the diaper as tight around as you need, and the hip snaps help keep in the poo.

The tab of the diaper contains three snaps, one for the hip, and two for extra hold around the waist.

And voila!  You have a fully diapered baby (err...stuffed giraffe).

George Girraffe is super confy in his fluffy butt

When the diaper is dirty, you just take it off (duh), and separate the insert from the cover before throwing it in your diaper pail.  I like to just untuck the insert a little bit and shake it into the pail, that way I don't have to really touch it too much.  I give it a quick spritz of a water and baking soda solution before throwing it in there, too, just to help keep smells to a minimum.  I've run across a few tricks like that on the internet.  I don't get any more dirty than I do changing a disposable.

Slightly untucked so I can shake it right out

I put the dirties right into my hanging wet bag.  Once I get my big trash can for in here, this will line the can.  I bought bags made out of the same material as the diapers, so when it's time to wash them I can carry this whole thing downstairs, empty it into the washer, and throw my bag right in there with the diapers and wash it all at once.  I bought two bags, so I can swap them out with the dirties.  Super convenient and easy!

After they're clean, I go ahead and set them to the right size and stuff them.  Then I throw them back in the laundry basket and and just the basket of clean diapers by her changing station.

Clean fluff!

I grab as I need them.  Super easy-peasy!  It's exciting to give her a new cute look every two hours or so.  Today she's wearing an Indians T-shirt from Auntie Bre-Bre and whatever diapers I fancy.  Every diaper change she gets a super cute butt.  I love it!

Hope this answers some of your questions.  Gotta go feed by Jillybean now. She's starting to wake up from her nap!