<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750</id><updated>2011-06-06T16:44:17.728-07:00</updated><category term='newborn baby'/><category term='ponce de leon avenue'/><category term='shoulder dystocia'/><category term='nursery'/><category term='suburbs'/><category term='buckhead'/><category term='delivery'/><category term='music'/><category term='labor'/><category term='young blood gallery'/><category term='etsy'/><category term='Chatagua Festival'/><category term='indie craft experience'/><category term='roxanne'/><category term='breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding'/><category term='atlanta'/><category term='pregancy'/><category term='baby'/><category term='Pregnant'/><category term='Cankles'/><category term='binders'/><category term='newborn'/><category term='concert'/><category term='livie and luca shoes'/><category term='christmas shopping'/><category term='empty stocking fund'/><category term='nipple confusion'/><category term='beagle'/><category term='Football'/><title type='text'>The Lillys in Bloom</title><subtitle type='html'>Atlanta Parent Magazine reader blog.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>AP Webmaster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15846177299411687877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8937975622227182549</id><published>2009-01-29T19:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T19:14:43.963-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Littlest Walker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3482/3211810184_83d23db0ec.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3482/3211810184_83d23db0ec.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it, but Roxanne is walking.  It took a little over a month to go from taking a few steps at a time to now, when she is a full-fledged walker.  She takes teensy little steps most of the time, which is hilarious, since when she wants to get somewhere faster, she just takes the tiny steps at a faster rate.  My favorite part was the few days it took her to learn to stand up without pulling up on anything.  She did it by getting into a tri-pod position, which looked an awful lot like a yoga pose.  I don't know how many times I watched her try to thrust her upper body upright only to topple over again, but she was so determined!  Now she can stand up easily with no support.  She's even mastering the ability to walk over bumpy ground and up and over little steps.  She still needs a hand sometimes, but she's making a lot of progress.  And she's so brave!  Sometimes I wish she would have a little more fear.  I guess most parents do...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8937975622227182549?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8937975622227182549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8937975622227182549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8937975622227182549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8937975622227182549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2009/01/littlest-walker.html' title='The Littlest Walker'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1740186039855436494</id><published>2009-01-12T17:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:06:13.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Age guidelines...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3476/3184736647_1049762779.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3476/3184736647_1049762779.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was just Christmas AND my daughter's first birthday, our house is literally flooded with toys.  In going through them, I can't help but be stumped by the age guidelines on the boxes.  There are toys that seem extremely basic and baby friendly that are marked "18 months +" or even "3 years +" which seems to be the standard for the super cheap toys.  On the other hand, Roxanne has some toys that make me a little nervous but are marked "12 months +" or even younger.  And while I don't want to be one of those super smug moms who completely ignores age guidelines, my husband and I decided to let our little one use her finger paints, even though they are marked safe for toddlers 18 months and older.   As you can see from the photo, she really enjoyed the paint, and I don't think we were putting her at risk, even though she is more than 5 months too young for them.  One of these days I want to do a little research and figure out where the age recommendations come from and how the toy companies determine them.  Lastly, I would love for them to come and explain to my little one that the teensy plastic dinosaur she fished out of a goody bag leftover from her birthday party is not safe for her for another 2 years.  I don't seem to be getting through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1740186039855436494?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1740186039855436494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1740186039855436494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1740186039855436494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1740186039855436494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2009/01/age-guidelines.html' title='Age guidelines...'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5747344117645513376</id><published>2008-12-16T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T17:43:08.217-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Santa or Not to Santa</title><content type='html'>I guess I'm a terrible mother.  I haven't taken my little one to see  Santa yet.  I keep meaning to take her to the Atlanta Botanical Garden to see Santa, but we just haven't made it yet.  Then I thought about taking her to a mall to see one of those Santas, but I know the lines are usually pretty terrible and I just can't deal with the screaming kids.  But in the back of my mind is that little voice saying, "maybe you should just wait until next year..."  Is that unspeakably horrible?  I probably should just take her.  Maybe this is just my psyche kicking in and taking me back to my early childhood when Santa brought me to tears.  But I should give her the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe she will better understand and intuit the inherent awesomeness of Santa.  And if not, the Santa photos with the crying baby are oddly charming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5747344117645513376?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5747344117645513376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5747344117645513376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5747344117645513376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5747344117645513376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/12/to-santa-or-not-to-santa.html' title='To Santa or Not to Santa'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2576038995430881411</id><published>2008-12-05T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T21:32:27.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies first REAL Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2145784664_2736346799.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 360px; height: 480px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2145784664_2736346799.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne was born on December 19, 2007, so even though last year was technically her first Christmas, I'm not sure she got a whole lot out of it.  Although if she did remember it, she would also remember the Santa outfit we put her in.  I could blame that outfit on my sister, since she gave it to us, but that would be unfair.  I got a kick out of it, too.  But look how cute she was in it!  She was such a tiny thing!  This year I think we'll be skipping the Santa outfit but there are lots of new and exciting things that will be just as good.  Maybe better.  I think I'm going to do the whole Santa experience with her.  Justin will be dragged along for the ride.  But we will be making special cookies and setting them out for Santa.  We will wake early to see what's been left under the tree.  We will keep opening the days of the Advent Calendar one by one.  We will probably only do one or two gifts, and hopefully Roxanne won't be scarred for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year also marks the start of what I hope will be a family tradition.  I got the idea from an article in one parent magazine or another.  The idea is that instead of doing lots and lots of presents, you take a family trip.  That way, you can spend time together.  We realize that there will likely be some lean years where we take a family trip to somewhere close and inexpensive, but that's OK.  I just think it will be fun.  This year we are hoping to go to Asheville, North Carolina for a few days after Christmas with my sister and her family.  We're still working out the details, but I'm really excited.  I want Roxanne to think of the holidays as a nice family time, and not just a toy bonanza.  I have such wonderful memories of being at my Grandparents' house for Christmas and eating huge meals and watching each member of the family open their gifts.  I think my favorite part was my stocking.  My Grandma knitted it just for me, and my sister had one that was similar, but just different enough that we could tell them apart.  The little goodies in that stocking were always the most fun to find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all have wonderful holidays!  And I apologize for being so sparse in my postings.  You know how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2576038995430881411?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2576038995430881411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2576038995430881411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2576038995430881411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2576038995430881411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/12/babies-first-real-christmas.html' title='Babies first REAL Christmas'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5051796871227784336</id><published>2008-11-13T17:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T17:56:53.649-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlanta Botanical Garden</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3197/3022890009_867461002a.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3197/3022890009_867461002a.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My little muffin (on the bottom) with her two cousins at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my husband are pretty squarely middle class income earners, we are somewhat limited in terms of living intown in Atlanta.  It's a trade off, but we are happy with it.  If we wanted to live thirty minutes or so outside the city, we could probably afford a larger place to rent, and maybe even a whole house...!  But as it is, our lifestyle at this point is just more practical living closer in.  We only have one car, but it's never been a hardship since my husband is able to use the Marta rail system to get to work.  And it only takes me about ten minutes to drive to work.  These are the kind of commutes we can handle...  Justin does not handle Atlanta traffic.  We both know this, and so we avoid it whenever possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, one of the drawbacks about living where we live is that we don't really have a yard.  I mean, we sort of do, but it's not really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; yard, and we wouldn't feel comfortable littering it up with baby toys.  Fortunately, there are lots of parks close by where we can take the baby and the dog, and we have memberships to Zoo Atlanta and the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.  Both are fun options for our family, and definitely make it less scarring that Roxanne won't grow up with a tree fort in her backyard.  I think at the moment, the Atlanta Botanical Garden is one of my favorite places in Atlanta.  The kid's garden is wonderful, even though Roxanne isn't quite old enough to fully appreciate it.  But in all honesty, I love the other side of the garden.  The grown up part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a small Japanese garden that looks like the kind of place you could sit and meditate in for hours.  There are greenhouses that are full of lovely orchids and one that feels just like the jungle.  It's a wonderful place to go when you feel like the city is just dirty and noisy.  It's easy to forget where you are at the Garden.  Add to this that I just found out about the fantastic holiday assortment of &lt;a href="http://www.atlantabotanicalgarden.org/events/ListEvents.do#191"&gt;attractions&lt;/a&gt;, and I'm just totally sold.  On December 6, they have the &lt;a href="http://www.atlantabotanicalgarden.org/events/EventView.do?eventId=374"&gt;Reindog Parade&lt;/a&gt;, which will feature dogs dressed in holiday clothes parading in the park.  I think there is still time to register your dog if you've got the perfect Rudolph-meets-Lassie at home.  Then there is the Holiday Ride-on-Train that will start running November 28,  and they are even having a "St. Nick," who will be wearing Victorian Santa-attire.  You can get your little ones' pictures with a classy Santa in a beautiful outdoor setting!  That sounds much better than the mall...but I'm probably biased.  I kind of hate the mall.  Actually, I just hate some parts of it.  There's certainly part of me that thrills in walking around a crowded mall during the holidays, but only if it's over-decorated, playing tasteful holiday music at a tasteful volume, and I'm sipping some kind of fatty coffee drink, like a Gingerbread latte.  Mmmm, I'm ready Black Friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, I just wanted to recommend the Atlanta Botanical Garden as a fun place to go during the holidays.  They will even be open Thanksgiving weekend!  You can waddle some of those biscuits off as you take in the sights.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5051796871227784336?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5051796871227784336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5051796871227784336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5051796871227784336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5051796871227784336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/11/atlanta-botanical-garden-in-fall.html' title='Atlanta Botanical Garden'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-3519512557883259587</id><published>2008-11-03T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T17:43:56.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Voting with baby</title><content type='html'>Since tomorrow is election day and lots of my fellow Georgians will probably be stuck standing in line for hours, I just wanted to take a moment to gloat.  I voted last week!  In fact, on Thursday afternoon, I went down to the early voting spot for my district, which is a building in downtown Decatur, and I was in and out in under half an hour.  Of course, the line was supposed to be two and a half hours, but after about twenty minutes of waiting, a glorious woman carrying a baby came over and told me that she had heard that anyone with a baby could go through a side door and vote right away.  I was a little nervous to lose my spot in line, but I figured it was worth a shot.  I sheepishly followed her in pushing Roxanne in her umbrella stroller, and to my shock, we were admitted through a side door and told to wait in some big comfy easy chairs at some tables.  Then we could sit while we filled out our voting forms, and hand our ID and completed forms to some lovely poll workers, and wait to be called for our turn to vote, which took under ten minutes.  It was fantastic! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day (Halloween) my husband left work early to try and vote, and when he arrived at the building, he was told it would be a three and a half hour wait.  He called me, and I suggested that he wander around downtown Decatur until I got off work and then use Roxanne to cheat the line.  Turns out I got off a little early, and we met at Dancing Goats (delicious delicious coffee) to make the baby swap.  It all felt mildly shameful and suspicious, and on some level, we were convinced that one of the employees would recognize Roxanne, or our bright orange stroller, and accuse Justin of cheating and kick him out immediately.  Obviously, this did not happen, and Justin was able to vote pretty quickly.  Of course, Roxanne threw a fit while he was trying to decipher all of the endless choices for positions he had never heard of, and he ended up tearing his shirt while retrieving a toy that she threw across the room.  I got to spend almost an entire half hour by myself at Dancing Goats, sitting outside with a magazine and sipping a Pistachio White Mocha Latte.  I called my mom and gossiped with her.  It was heavenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, I think those 13 hours of labor were worth it.  I mean, the baby is nice, too, but this whole convenient voting thing is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-3519512557883259587?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/3519512557883259587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=3519512557883259587' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3519512557883259587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3519512557883259587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/11/voting-with-baby.html' title='Voting with baby'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7135585300128733651</id><published>2008-10-22T18:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T19:02:08.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Burt's Pumpkin Farm</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3174/2966002668_6a8d159faa.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3174/2966002668_6a8d159faa.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3151/2965157441_0d5233bb2d.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3151/2965157441_0d5233bb2d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3034/2966028622_8929ca382d.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 334px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3034/2966028622_8929ca382d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend we went to &lt;a href="http://www.burtsfarm.com/"&gt;Burt's Pumpkin Farm&lt;/a&gt;.  I highly recommend the trek.  It's absolutely gorgeous, and even though it's totally packed, it's fun.  The hayride is good, and Roxanne really enjoyed it, even though I assumed it would be more fun for an older baby.  Being up near the mountains in the fall is fabulous, but if you are planning to stop at &lt;a href="http://www.gastateparks.org/info/amicalola/"&gt;Amicalola Falls&lt;/a&gt; afterward, be prepared to wait in traffic.  It seems to be a popular course of action.  Also, be prepared to be driven mildly insane by the smells.  Hot boiled peanuts, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, popcorn...  Irresistible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7135585300128733651?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7135585300128733651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7135585300128733651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7135585300128733651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7135585300128733651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/10/burts-pumpkin-farm.html' title='Burt&apos;s Pumpkin Farm'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8451334124219745058</id><published>2008-10-09T19:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T19:36:32.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlanta Parent Block Party</title><content type='html'>Just wanted to give a little PR to the Atlanta Parent Block Party this weekend!  It looks really fun, and I think my clan will be in attendance.  Here's the details, culled from the Atlanta Parent website:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Atlanta Parent Magazine's Family Block           Party. Mercer University, Atlanta Campus.&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;More than 50           kid-friendly activities: Practice your           favorite sport with professional teams, try           the climbing wall or pedal carts and enjoy a           performance from Laughing Pizza. Oct. 11. 10           a.m.-4 p.m. 3001 Mercer University Dr.,           Atlanta. 770-454-7599. Adults, $5; children,           $4; under 2, free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8451334124219745058?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8451334124219745058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8451334124219745058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8451334124219745058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8451334124219745058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/10/atlanta-parent-block-party.html' title='Atlanta Parent Block Party'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5156297490787389451</id><published>2008-10-01T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T17:17:54.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Book for Less Conventional Moms</title><content type='html'>I was an English major in college.  I love to read.  I love books.  It's just a world that I feel comfortable in.  So naturally, when I was pregnant, and now as a mom, it's always nice to find books that are well-written, relevant to my life, and fun to read.  It's also not always easy to find books that fit all of those criteria.  It's actually kind of impossible.  But my mom gave me a book by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Lamott"&gt;Anne &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lamott&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; when I was pregnant called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Operating-Instructions-Journal-Sons-First/dp/044990928X"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Operating Instructions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and it quickly became one of my favorite books of all time.  I've read other Anne &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lamott&lt;/span&gt; books, and I really love her for a lot of different reasons.  Maybe in part because she is so honest, sometimes to a painful degree.  She is irreverent, but also &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Traveling-Mercies-Some-Thoughts-Faith/dp/0385496095"&gt;religious&lt;/a&gt;, but in a way that is appealing and not alienating, even if you don't share her beliefs.  Really, she's a hilarious writer, and clearly a wonderful mother.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Operating Instructions&lt;/span&gt; is about the first year of her son's life.  She is raising him alone in the book, and listening to her speak about the lovely moments and the difficult ones makes me be proud to be a mom.  It's definitely the only place where I read about another mom feeling those moments where you are teetering on the edge of insanity after an extended newborn crying jag and you actually scare yourself and have to leave the room where your baby is screaming.  It comforted me to hear another woman admit that.  No where in any of the manuals about child-rearing did I see such honesty and comfort.  And it's a book that I keep in the side-pocket of our glider, pulling it out at random times and re-reading passages.  I especially love to read about her son, Sam, when he is at the corresponding ages with Roxanne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, I just wanted to share that.  If you are looking for a good mom book, I would recommend this one.  It changed me in some good ways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5156297490787389451?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5156297490787389451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5156297490787389451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5156297490787389451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5156297490787389451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/10/great-book-for-less-conventional-moms.html' title='Great Book for Less Conventional Moms'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4630445413536108648</id><published>2008-09-22T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T21:03:50.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uh uh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3125/2868426127_45dcf32573.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3125/2868426127_45dcf32573.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne is learning to say "uh-oh," but she hasn't quite gotten there.  Instead, she's been babbling the phrase "uh-uh" over and over again but with the same intonation as "uh-oh."  As a result, I've been saying "uh-oh" constantly in order to try and coax her into getting it right.  It occurs to me that it's kind of silly for me to do so, since I'm probably not helping her learn the proper context.  Like, we don't say "uh-oh" while getting out of the car, or petting the dog or eating food off the floor.  The last one might count, but not in a for real way.  More in the mommy way, since I'm the one who knows that eating off the floor is "uh-oh."  Roxanne seems to think that it's totally fine to eat off the floor.  It seems like most new things that Roxanne picks up are super duper fun for about a week, and she does them constantly, then she goes on hiatus with it.  I'm hoping that the constant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;raspberry&lt;/span&gt; blowing ends soon.  It's kind of awful.  The clapping is back in vogue, and that's awesome.  I get an applause when I do things like open the box of Cheerios or clean up some toys.  Then there are the facial expressions.  She went through a phase of scrunchy faces mixed with snorting.  Now she's sticking out her bottom jaw and showing her bottom teeth all the time.  It's a really funny face that reminds me of an old man going "shucks."  Roxanne is such a charmer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4630445413536108648?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4630445413536108648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4630445413536108648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4630445413536108648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4630445413536108648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/09/uh-uh.html' title='Uh uh'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1900343793692080641</id><published>2008-09-18T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T17:18:02.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Naked Lunch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3037/2869256596_fe6904c569.jpg?v=1221783459"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3037/2869256596_fe6904c569.jpg?v=1221783459" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have finally discovered the advantages to letting Roxanne eat wearing nothing but her diaper during meals.  She can get pretty messy, and it's almost impossible to keep up with her in terms of clean clothes.  Especially since we have to go down to the creepy basement of our apartment complex to do the wash.  Usually I put it off until Roxanne is wearing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;onesies&lt;/span&gt; that just barely snap under the crotch and pop open when you pick her up.  Consequently, I have become a big fan of separates.  I try to get her shirts and pants, so that she gets more wear out of everything.  But I digress.  Today was avocado day, and it's always a BIG mess.  By the end of lunch, Roxanne looked like Kermit or maybe one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  She was green from her forehead to her belly button.  And as I cleaned her up in the sink, I realized that even the back of her neck was green.  I know that I could just leave her shirt on and give her a bib, but she hates bibs, and makes a big show of arching her back and pulling them down when I put them on.  And while I hate giving into tantrums, it's really just as easy to let her eat in the buff.  She seems to enjoy the sound it makes when she pats her tummy with her palm, which is a vast improvement over her usual routine of banging both hands onto the tray of her high chair and sending all of the little bits and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pieces&lt;/span&gt; of food to the far corners of the dining area.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1900343793692080641?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1900343793692080641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1900343793692080641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1900343793692080641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1900343793692080641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/09/naked-lunch.html' title='Naked Lunch'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7208713184463019170</id><published>2008-09-07T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T20:20:43.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another day at the zoo</title><content type='html'>Yesterday we took Roxanne to the zoo.  Now that I bit the bullet and joined, I hope to go as often as possible.  It's really nice to feel like we can go for just little visits whenever we feel like and it, and there's no looming "we have to get our money's worth" thing.  So we basically headed straight to the kids' stuff after taking short breaks at the tiger and elephant exhibits.  We went to the petting zoo, but it was a little bit of a bust.  There were a lot of older kids and they were very pushy, and all of the animals were laying around.  We tried to interest Roxanne in petting a sheep and a baby goat, but she was only vaguely interested.  Overall, she still seems to prefer to watch the big kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did take her on the carousel.  I went ahead and bought the "ten for ten dollars" pass that gives you ten rides for $10, as opposed to paying $3 per ride.  If we weren't members, I wouldn't have done it, but I figure we can burn through ten rides pretty quickly.  The carousel was the first stop.  When I first plopped Roxanne onto the seat, she was terrified.  She didn't cry, but she leaned off of the animal and buried her face in my shoulder.  I left her on the seat but snuggled her up and wrapped my arms around her and tried to be very enthusiastic about the monkey that she was sitting on.  And sure enough, once the ride started, she loved it!  I still held her very very tight, but every time her monkey started going up, her little face just lit up and she kicked her feet a little.  It was really fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the carousel, we hustled her onto the train, and this time Justin and I both took her.  It took FOREVER for the train to take off, and Roxanne started freaking out.  She was hot, tired, overstimulated, and frustrated because she wanted to nurse and didn't understand why I wouldn't let her.  It's hard to explain concepts like modesty to an eight month old.  As she got progressively more and more worked up, my husband and I did the natural thing; we turned on each other.  I kept telling him to just get out his keys and let her play with them, since my keys are typically like a hypnotic toy for Roxanne.  But Justin insisted it was a ridiculously bad idea to give her his keys on a moving vehicle, especially since she loves to throw things these days.  As we politely snapped at each other, I heard a child a few rows back asking his dad "why is that baby screaming?" and his answer: "little babies can't tell their parents what's wrong, so they just cry."  The mama bear in me wanted to turn around and launch into an explanation about how I knew exactly what was wrong with her, but because of how people in America are totally freaked out by breastfeeding I had to listen to her cry and try to distract her with my digital camera, the ride pass, my hair, the kids in front of me, etc. etc.  Fortunately, the ride started moving, and Roxanne calmed down and actually enjoyed herself.  And I calmed down, realizing that it is in fact probably a bad idea to give a baby keys on a moving ride, and that I am not really an activist when it comes to breastfeeding in public, I just hate listening to my baby cry.  And that I should pay closer attention to her feeding schedule while planning out rides at the zoo.  In a few short months, Roxanne will probably be drinking cow's milk, and these kinds of issues will be a thing of the past.  Where did my tiny baby go?  And where did this almost-toddler come from?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7208713184463019170?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7208713184463019170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7208713184463019170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7208713184463019170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7208713184463019170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/09/just-another-day-at-zoo.html' title='Just another day at the zoo'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1355592860695492731</id><published>2008-08-28T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T21:27:07.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The "LD" Trophy</title><content type='html'>I remember in high school, I had this Spanish teacher who was constantly either pregnant or on maternity leave.  She was super nice, but it always kind of annoyed me that she was constantly drinking out of this gigantic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Northside&lt;/span&gt; Hospital cup.  It had a teddy bear on it, and was clearly a prize she got during one of her trips to the maternity ward.  The trend continued through my adult life, as I have met countless moms who covet their big gray plastic mug with the bendy straw.  Some moms use it daily, while others keep it in a top cabinet.  Either way, I have yet to meet a mom who doesn't still have her mug. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to the hospital with Roxanne, it wasn't quite what I had always pictured.  There was no late night call to my doctor, no long hours of laboring at home, just a leisurely drive to the hospital on the morning of my scheduled induction.  However, the exit from the hospital was probably the same as most other new moms.  Fear, anxiety, relief, exhaustion, and shameless thievery.  My sister, who has two toddlers, was urging me to get as much of everything as I could.  The way she explained it, all of the supplies that were in my recovery room were dedicated to me and Roxanne.  And if we didn't use them, they would just get thrown out.  This made complete sense to me.  And I pulled out all the stops.  I pretty much packed everything that wasn't chained down into the free diaper bag I got from one of those sneaky formula companies.  I actually still have some of that stuff.  But I'm not ashamed to admit that my most prized possession is my big gray plastic mug.  It has a purple rose on it.  And I somehow lost the tip of the straw that seals it off.  I haven't used it in months, but I will never never get rid of it.  If I have another baby, I will keep that mug, too.  It brings me back to those first days when we were in the hospital, and both terrified and elated.  I drank cranberry juice on ice from that great big mug.  Even if it stays on top of my fridge next to the semi-broken blender, it's mine for life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1355592860695492731?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1355592860695492731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1355592860695492731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1355592860695492731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1355592860695492731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/08/ld-trophy.html' title='The &quot;LD&quot; Trophy'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8390331437153577524</id><published>2008-08-23T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T11:09:59.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3190/2783041206_d565c03a81.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3190/2783041206_d565c03a81.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry it's been so long since I've posted!  I'm not sure how many people actually read this blog, but I hate when I let things lapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been really busy lately.  I'm getting used to being with Roxanne full time, and our whole family is much happier these days.  Last weekend we went to the zoo, and now I am totally convinced that I want to have Roxanne's first birthday party there.  Unfortunately, her birthday is in December.  I think it will be too cold.  I realize that it's only August, but the first birthday party... lots of pressure!  In a perfect world, I'd like to have a birthday party at home, but our apartment is just too small.  Waaaaay too small.  I've also looked at Fernbank.  It just seems like it's too much for her first birthday, especially since she'll be too little to remember it anyways.  But she has a lot of older cousins, so I know they would love to go to the zoo.  I'm going to try and figure out if they have some kind of special options for winter birthday parties.  The zoo was really fun, even though it was crazy crowded since it was free to Atlanta residents.  I want to look into getting a membership for our family.  Roxanne bonded with one of the goats at the petting zoo named Willow.  He was a very sweet and patient goat, and Roxanne even got a couple of kisses from him.  However, more than anything, I think she just likes looking at the other kids.  They are pretty entertaining, even to me and Justin.  Apparently if you get a membership, you get a special deal on birthday parties...  It's all about the birthday parties.  Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8390331437153577524?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8390331437153577524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8390331437153577524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8390331437153577524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8390331437153577524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/08/catching-up.html' title='Catching Up'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2663627585741364689</id><published>2008-08-07T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T15:15:01.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Baby Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3101/2733562889_7f3036b929.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3101/2733562889_7f3036b929.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne has become an official baby dancer.  Any time she hears music, she bops up and down to the beat, and usually claps her hands, too.  She does it most when she is sitting up like a big kid.  Sometimes she dances so strongly that she teeters forward and into a sort of half tummy time position.  She's not a big fan of tummy time, so she usually fusses right about then.  Although sometimes she just keeps dancing.  She seems to have good rhythm.  We hope she will be musical.  She definitely loves it when her daddy plays her guitar.  Hopefully she'll be a good dancer, too.  If she is, she won't get it from me.  I can half-convincingly sway for a few minutes before pretending that I have to pee in order to leave a dance floor.  Justin and I swayed like middle schoolers during our wedding dance.  But we are both pretty musical, Justin more than me.  A family band would be pretty fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2663627585741364689?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2663627585741364689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2663627585741364689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2663627585741364689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2663627585741364689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/08/baby-dance.html' title='The Baby Dance'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7914928259153845732</id><published>2008-07-22T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T12:39:06.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy Day Care</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3115/2691466292_abb588577c.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3115/2691466292_abb588577c.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Justin is keeping Roxanne all day every day this week. I think it's fantastic, and I can already see that they are getting closer and more bonded. Our babysitter is at the beach this week, and while we had been planning to take a family vacation as well, it didn't end up being a good time for me to take off work. Justin had already requested the week off, so he is spending a whole weeks worth of vacation just hanging out at home with Roxanne. I'm a little jealous. So far, they seem to be doing great! I keep calling to check in, which I should probably stop doing. I know that Justin is a great dad, and I do my best to not bother him about these things, but I'm a mom. I can't help it. In any case, it's nice to come home to both of them, and they usually both have a lovely smile for me. Roxanne is really into bouncing right now, like a baby Tigger. She especially does it when I come home and she is excited. But she does it while she stands in my lap, and while she lays on her tummy, and while she nurses, and while she's in her high chair. I'm sure Justin is getting a really good arm workout. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She is also learning to wave, which is extremely adorable. She is also learning the subtle humor inherit in smacking people in the face and listening to them say "ow." Last night I lay with her on the couch with my head near her lap as she was sitting up. At first, she was just tangling her fingers in my hair and patting my cheek. It was very sweet and gentle. Then she rared her arm back and smacked my eye a few times, wriggling her fingers to try and get my eyelashes. With her other hand, she tried to grab my teeth. With this sudden flash of baby attack, I yelled "ouch, be gentle Roxanne!" and of course she started giggling. She starting slapping my cheek over and over, and since it wasn't painful, I was saying "ouch" in a silly voice each time as she giggled and giggled. Then I thought about it a little and realized this was maybe not a great game to play. Maybe that's a game better suited to Daddy... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7914928259153845732?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7914928259153845732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7914928259153845732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7914928259153845732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7914928259153845732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/daddy-day-care.html' title='Daddy Day Care'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1170394374496648759</id><published>2008-07-17T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T18:08:40.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nails on a chalkboard...sort of</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3147/2662450824_9467df87a8.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3147/2662450824_9467df87a8.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that Roxanne has a top tooth, or at least part of a top tooth and then another corner of the other top tooth, she has discovered that she can click and grind them against her bottom teeth.  The sound is very yucky to me.  It's almost as gross as when you can hear someone scratching their leg through a tight pair of blue jeans.  For some reason, that sound grosses me out, too.  Well, I shouldn't say it's gross, just sort of uncomfortable.  It's a lot like when Roxanne goes in a play pen.  She scratches at the inside of her play pen like a little prisoner.  Honestly, I respond to that faster than I do to crying.  I can't blame Roxanne for these noises, especially when I think of how weird it must be to be doing these things for the first time.  It brings me back to that Wim Wenders movie, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wings of Desire&lt;/span&gt;, which has a totally stupid English title.  Apparently the actual translation from the German title would be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Angels Over Berlin&lt;/span&gt;, but that's beside the point.  It's a lovely movie, and Peter Falk, better known as Columbo, is in it, as an angel who gives up his immortality to become human when he falls in love with a woman.  He is describing the experience of being human to an angel who is considering taking the plunge, and he describes every day experiences like tasting hot coffee and drawing with a pad and paper in the most exquisite way.  I'm not sure if Roxanne would be as eloquent, but I would love to hear her thoughts on the first time she ground her teeth together, or scratched nylon with her little baby nails.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1170394374496648759?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1170394374496648759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1170394374496648759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1170394374496648759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1170394374496648759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/nails-on-chalkboardsort-of.html' title='Nails on a chalkboard...sort of'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4103081504818606072</id><published>2008-07-12T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T21:01:51.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is not a paid promotion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3020/2661625037_89eb409043.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3020/2661625037_89eb409043.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to give a big thanks to Pastries A Go Go in Decatur.   It's officially our favorite brunch restaurant in Atlanta.  Justin and I love going to brunch, and it's really a treat for us.  Plus, the timing works well with a little one.  Going to dinner can be difficult since pushing things too late ends up with an exhausted baby and a meltdown.  But brunch is just right.  We're learning that there are certain parts of town and certain restaurants that are less than baby friendly.  For some places, it's the lack of changing tables in the bathroom.  This might not seem like a big deal, but after changing Roxanne in the trunk of our hatchback once or twice, I've realized the merits of the public bathroom changing table.  Then there is the obvious disposition of the staff and patrons at certain restaurants towards little ones.  Some ignore them, some fawn over them, and others act like you are polluting their establishment with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pitter&lt;/span&gt; patter of little feet.  Pastries A Go Go has a lovely changing table, and the staff is tolerant of little ones.  They don't fawn over them, which is actually refreshing for people like me who get a little overwhelmed and stressed by the constant and seemingly undeniable urge that strangers have to touch Roxanne's hands (gross and rude, even if well-intentioned).  The high chairs are functional and clean, and there are usually quite a few other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;rugrats&lt;/span&gt; running around.  The food is also delicious.  Like seriously delicious.  The photo above is Roxanne sitting at the table at Pastries.  Doesn't she look amused?  That's the face she makes after she has tossed one of her toys off the table for the ninth or tenth time.  I think I will only buy toys for Roxanne from now on that come equipped with a leash.  And that was the other thing.  No one at the restaurant ever gave us a dirty look, even though Roxanne was throwing things like a little Tasmanian devil.  She doesn't scream though.  And she was flirting with a little boy at the table behind us.  He was screaming.  Maybe he sensed that no one really minded...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4103081504818606072?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4103081504818606072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4103081504818606072' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4103081504818606072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4103081504818606072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-not-paid-promotion.html' title='This is not a paid promotion'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7453544710010356025</id><published>2008-07-09T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T02:09:46.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tough call</title><content type='html'>I think one of the hardest parts of being a working parent is trying to deal with my baby being sick on a regular basis.  I think it might qualify as some form of torture to watch someone who is so tiny and helpless get sick over and over.  Then you have to try and decide when the baby is just a little sick and when she is really sick.  Like now.  It's 5:00am, and Roxanne is very fussy.  She has a cough and a fever of 101.3.  Of course, my mother hen instincts tell me I should take her to the emergency room, but after googling "baby fever 101" I find that since she's over six months old and her fever is under 103, it will be fine to give her some Tylenol and try to console her back to sleep.  So I will wake up in the morning, call the pediatrician's office, and try to figure out whether or not I've used up all of my leave at work.  My sick leave is definitely gone, and I'm pretty well through my vacation time, too.  Not for a vacation, but for baby illness.  I have to point out that I don't mind staying home with Roxanne when she's ill.  In fact, I love it.  Not that she's ill, but just getting a whole day with her.  But there is so much stress when you are a working mom.  My job is very busy and when I'm out, it's difficult to catch up.  Plus, I'm always worried that my employer is going to finally just fire me for missing work.  But I had to go back when Roxanne was only 7 weeks old, and her immune system will probably take a year to catch up (according to her doctor). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I lived in Switzerland or Canada where they have longer maternity and paternity leave.  America has a long way to go in this area.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7453544710010356025?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7453544710010356025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7453544710010356025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7453544710010356025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7453544710010356025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/tough-call.html' title='Tough call'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2242468828587992163</id><published>2008-07-06T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T17:18:36.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fourth of July Cold Feet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3278/2643291397_3fbf2ea25d.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3278/2643291397_3fbf2ea25d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was Roxanne's first Fourth of July.  We spent most of the day just running errands, but it was still fun.  We had a birthday party to go to, so Roxanne and I had a little shopping spree.  We went to Ross and found some foam squares for the floor.  We can put them out when Roxanne is having tummy time and pack them up afterwards so our beagle, Katie, doesn't get them all funky and hairy.  It's one of her skills.  Then we went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Petco&lt;/span&gt; where I let Roxanne watch the birds.  She loves them all, but I think the finches are her favorite.  They are so small and busy.  After that was Target, where we agonized over what to get for Dylan, the birthday boy.  It was his first birthday, and so there is this weird disconnect between baby toys and toddler toys.  We ended up going with a Little People bus.  Pretty cute.  Roxanne seemed to like it, since she tried to chew on the box the whole way through the store.  She's still not quite ready to sit in a shopping cart, so I had her in the sling.  It works well until she gets hungry and starts slapping and head banging me in the chest.  She's got these subtle cues...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The birthday party was at my co-worker &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Denetrice's&lt;/span&gt; house in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Conyers&lt;/span&gt;.  Her son,  Dylan, is adorable.  The party was HUGE, and it was lovely.  Their house is on a small lake, so we stood on the little dock for a while and chatted with one of my other co-workers and his wife.  They have a sixteen week old son, Griffin.  He's very cute and has lots of hair.  There were tons of people there, and a clown, a jumpy castle, and little games.  There were ribs, chicken and hot dogs on the grill...whew.  Roxanne did very well, and didn't fuss at anyone, and she loved Griffin.  She kept staring at him and touching his face.  She put her finger in his mouth a few times, but I think it's a sign of affection.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks were scheduled to start around 9:00, but we left at 8 or so.  I just decided that it might scare Roxanne, and we can always wait until next year.  Maybe then she will be old enough to tell me if she's scared and wants to leave.  For now, I figured it was better safe than sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2242468828587992163?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2242468828587992163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2242468828587992163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2242468828587992163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2242468828587992163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/fourth-of-july-cold-feet.html' title='Fourth of July Cold Feet'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1889301941614056709</id><published>2008-07-01T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T08:46:39.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Newborn Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3131/2601824626_3ba4e634a5.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3131/2601824626_3ba4e634a5.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night when Roxanne woke me up at 2am with her teething pain, I was holding her and looking at how grown up she is getting. Admittedly, she is only 6 months old and it is probably silly to be thinking about the "old days," but she made this little gaspy sound that she used to make a lot when she was her little wrinkly and floppy new baby self. I thought about how tiny she was and how we could spend hours just snuggling and singing and being quiet and calm. I snuggled her closer thinking about what a mess I will be when she is going off to kindergarten for the first time, and, gasp, college. She is still a very laid back baby, and we still can spend a lot of time cuddling, especially since she is a breastfed baby. But she is more and more active, and more and more determined to see and do everything. Sometimes she continues to kick her legs and swing her arms even when she is nursing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Justin and I are still trying to figure out if we want to have another baby, and if so, when. It's a big and important decision, and we're certainly not in a rush to make it, but there are moments, like when I bought Roxanne's big girl "convertible" car seat this weekend and I have to figure out what to do with the infant seat, when I feel a little more pressure to decide. But then I think about paying double day care, and trying to bathe two babies instead of one, and trying to get two little ones to sleep in their own room when I can't even get Roxanne out of my bed and into the crib. Whew. I do think that things just sort of happen when they are supposed to though. It's just worked out like that for us. And maybe once Roxanne is a big toddler with little time to snuggle up to her mama and stare into my eyes for twenty minutes at a stretch, I'll be ready to start all over with a new baby. Plus, I need a few more years to forget how horrible labor was. I did after all, swear to my OB during the second hour of pushing that I would never have another child. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1889301941614056709?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1889301941614056709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1889301941614056709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1889301941614056709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1889301941614056709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/07/newborn-nostalgia.html' title='Newborn Nostalgia'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4257734729386788015</id><published>2008-06-27T06:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T07:25:30.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Glasses Grabbing and Hair Pulling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3166/2601825608_771eec5386.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3166/2601825608_771eec5386.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Roxanne is definitely starting to get into her "grabby" phase, where anything that passes in front of her might as well be a chew toy. She goes after things with gusto, reaching and snatching, and if she can't reach it, she just holds her hand in front of her and opens and closes her fist like she is holding it. It's pretty cute. Unfortunately, my husband and I both have glasses, so they are constantly getting ripped off of our faces. The other day in the elevator at work, my co-worker leaned over and politely told me that I had "gunk" on my glasses. Vaguely embarrassed, I took them off and saw banana on the corner of them. Yep. I am now walking around with banana on my glasses. I'm totally a mom. Evidently Roxanne grabbed them the other day after dinner, and I'm assuming it had to be sometime in the last week because we haven't been feeding her banana for that long, but other than that, I don't know. She is also really into pulling my hair. I have crazy thick curly hair and it's just rife for the pulling. Sometimes I think she's just going to be sweet and gently stroke it, and then she gets this little smirk on her face, grabs a handful, and jerks her hand in the air. Usually this ends with me wincing and Roxanne chewing on a strand of my hair. The real question is whether or not she knows she's hurting me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4257734729386788015?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4257734729386788015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4257734729386788015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4257734729386788015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4257734729386788015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/06/glasses-grabbing-and-hair-pulling.html' title='Glasses Grabbing and Hair Pulling'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-3764295569080400466</id><published>2008-06-16T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T15:05:33.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Father's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3096/2561754303_efb25ab91c.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3096/2561754303_efb25ab91c.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our babysitter is really great.  Roxanne is there with just 4 other kids, although not all of them are full time.  I think only 2 of them are...  Anyways, her babysitter, Andrea, is just one of those people who are born to watch kids.  She's very energetic and happy and sweet.  Roxanne really likes her, and I think she likes listening to her speak Spanish.  Andrea's house is also very cute, and the baby area has tons of toys and mobiles hanging from the ceiling.  I feel so lucky that Roxanne is in an in-home daycare.  It just works for our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrea and Roxanne made Justin a Father's Day card, and it really chokes me up to look at it.  It makes me think of all the future "art projects" and handmade gifts to come.  I got a Mother's Day card from Andrea and Roxanne, too, and it's still on our fridge.  My card had Roxanne's hand prints traced on there, and Justin's card has her foot print.  It's totally adorable.  The inside has a little photo of Roxanne, looking cute.  Justin really likes it.  Roxanne and I made him a little picture frame photo album thing with pictures of the two of them since Roxanne was born.  The early ones might be my favorite because you can see how exhausted Justin is, but his smile is so bright and shiny.  Dad's definitely deserve a holiday of their own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-3764295569080400466?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/3764295569080400466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=3764295569080400466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3764295569080400466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3764295569080400466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/06/fathers-day.html' title='Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4467203545357337377</id><published>2008-06-10T19:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T19:38:39.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mmm, real food</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3027/2562579332_7a4b44c490.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3027/2562579332_7a4b44c490.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne has entered the world of rice cereal.  So far, she mainly just wants to chew on the spoon, and she's maybe getting a few chunks of cereal every third bite or so, but I guess practice makes perfect.  She's pretty messy, which is hard for me, since I've always been one of those people who are neurotic about food stuff.  Like fighting back waves of nausea as a second grader watching kids get pudding on their face during lunch.  And never being able to sweep table crumbs into my hands off the table.  Under any circumstances.  Ick.  So this is all teaching me a lot about getting over it.  But it would be fine with me if Roxanne followed in my footsteps and avoided Oreos at all cost solely based on the fact that they leave that creepy black residue in the corners of your mouth.  That's so gross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4467203545357337377?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4467203545357337377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4467203545357337377' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4467203545357337377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4467203545357337377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/06/mmm-real-food.html' title='mmm, real food'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-6586525314132013162</id><published>2008-05-26T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T20:17:51.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End of an Era</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3053/2511678389_c48df54f72.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3053/2511678389_c48df54f72.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today marks the last day that Justin and I can take Roxanne to a restaurant and not have some sort of seating option just for her.  We took her to a restaurant in Decatur this morning, and she was ALL up in our food.  Justin and I passed her back and forth across the table several times, both of us secretly thinking that the other was the real problem, and that Roxanne just needed to be situated differently.  This was not true.  Roxanne is now way too mobile and interested in our food to sit in our laps during meals.  First, she was doing this really slick and stealthy move where she was facing me but swinging her arm behind her.  I saw her little hand skim over my fruit bowl, but I didn't realize she had actually gotten anything until she had a piece of pineapple halfway to her mouth.  Shortly thereafter, Justin took baby duty for a few minutes, while I tried to scarf my honey wheat pancakes down as quickly as possible.  During Daddy time, Roxanne repeatedly picked up and dropped several handfuls of potatoes.  It was all contained to his plate, but still.  To finish everything off, I held Roxanne in my right arm while trying to finish some of my coffee (it was decaf guys, and lukewarm).  Roxanne, exhibiting enviable speed and maneuvering, grabbed the rim of my mostly full glass of icy water and pulled it forward.  Subsequently, my lap and behind were completely soaking wet.  Fortunately, I was wearing a black patterned jersey dress, so only people looking really closely would have thought that I peed my pants.  Roxanne seemed un-phased, even though her left foot got all wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, it looks like we have finally arrived in the high chair times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-6586525314132013162?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/6586525314132013162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=6586525314132013162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6586525314132013162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6586525314132013162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/05/end-of-era.html' title='The End of an Era'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5029686620543170796</id><published>2008-05-20T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T15:45:19.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Could I please get a tooth?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3101/2495192365_4e5f61acca.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3101/2495192365_4e5f61acca.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just one?  Poor little Roxanne.  She's having about an hour a night where she is inconsolable and howling.  She tugs at her ears and rubs her eyes (occasionally jamming a chubby little finger into one or both) and just generally seems pretty miserable.  I know it's got to be teething.  I swear I can feel her bottom two teeth just about to break through, but I have no frame of reference and cannot exactly call myself an expert.  What exactly should it feel like when a baby's teeth are pushing through?  I've been giving her a few Hyland's teething tablets, and they seem to be pretty wonderful.  Usually within about fifteen minutes she is calm enough to nurse and fall asleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne turned 5 months old yesterday and she seems more or less on track with most things.  She's getting more and more grabby and interested in everything, and she LOVES to eat with a spoon.  Let me clarify: when we go to restaurants, we just hold Roxanne in our laps and let her hang out and maybe play with a toy.  For the most part, she's a pretty laid back lady, and just sits politely trying to grab everything on our plate or on the table.  So lately I have been dipping my spoon into a tiny bit of water and putting it into her mouth.  She LOVES it.  I think it's a combination of cold metal and cold water on her gums, but it works for her.  And it looks adorable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5029686620543170796?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5029686620543170796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5029686620543170796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5029686620543170796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5029686620543170796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/05/could-i-please-get-tooth.html' title='Could I please get a tooth?'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-3424321879984274911</id><published>2008-05-12T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T18:50:32.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wonders of Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Sunday was my very first Mother's Day.  I have to say that it was perfect!  It started out a little rocky, since Roxanne woke up around 7:00 and didn't seem interested in going back to sleep until we were on the way to brunch at noon.  I kept trying to talk her into giving her Mommy the gift of sleep, but no dice.  After a lot of deliberation, we decided to just go to Whole Foods for brunch, since the breakfast bar is delicious and there isn't a wait to eat.  However, on our way there, we noticed that the La Fonda on Ponce was pretty empty.  I have to tell you, the brunch at La Fonda is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.  Justin and I fancy ourselves brunch professionals, since that is our big meal out most weeks.  We have lots of favorite spots around Atlanta, but we assumed all of them would be packed on Mother's Day.  La Fonda was perfect.  We sat on the roof top patio and ate breakfast food (mmm, desayuno burrito).  I was tempted to have a Mimosa, but considering that these days a half a beer makes me giddy, I opted out.  I didn't want to spend Mother's Day drunk.  Plus, Roxanne and I are still making a great breastfeeding team, and drinking can be tricky with nursing.  Sometimes Roxanne decides she's not willing to wait for two hours while my wine metabolizes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent most of the rest of the day at Piedmont Park.  The weather was flawless and we sat in a swing by the lake while I nursed Roxanne.  If you squint a little, you can even pretend that the brush along the shore isn't littered with cigarette butts, beer bottles, and assorted drug paraphernalia.   It approaches being wholesome!   While we were at the park, we stopped into Skate Escape, where I talked with the counter guy (super nice and friendly) about what the best roller skates (quads, NOT roller blades) would be for a person who wanted to start outdoor skating but might eventually get into roller derby.  I wrote down his recommendations, and I might be heading back over there with a small part of my stimulus check...  I would love to start roller skating again.  I did it ALL the time as a kid, and I was actually starting to try out for the Atlanta Roller Derby girls when I found out I was pregnant with Roxanne.  I'm thinking maybe when she's two or three I'll try out again.  Maybe by that time it won't be too tragic if I break an arm.  I want to set a good example for Roxanne, and maybe she'll someday think I'm cool for roller skating.  Although I am pretty sure she'll be embarrassed of me no matter what.  For now, I'm enjoying being a mama who is pretty much as good as it gets for Roxanne.  She smiles at me, giggles at me, snuggles me, and just generally is the best thing that ever happened to me (sorry Justin).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-3424321879984274911?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/3424321879984274911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=3424321879984274911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3424321879984274911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/3424321879984274911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/05/wonders-of-mothers-day.html' title='The Wonders of Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5678121225993391201</id><published>2008-05-05T17:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T17:18:34.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The time has come</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3013/2442485983_538b555f7d.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3013/2442485983_538b555f7d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne finally got her foot in her mouth this morning.  This is kind of a big deal around here.   I know it sounds sort of dull and maybe even gross, but for me and Justin who have seen it coming for weeks, it's pretty thrilling.  She only did it once, and it wasn't clear whether or not she realized that the foot was not the same thing as her finger (which is ALWAYS in her mouth), but she did make a little face.  Kind of like a face you make when you lick chocolate off of your finger but realize that there was some hand sanitizer on there, too.  You are expecting familiar deliciousness (baby finger) but get familiar deliciousness mixed with ickiness (baby toe complete with baby toe jam).  It also occurred to me that Roxanne has probably never smelled or tasted foot before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think my parental epiphanies are unusual.  I read about moms being thrilled with their babies firsts, and wondering about the wonderment with which their child views the world.  I think about that stuff, but I also think about Roxanne tasting her foot for the first time.  I wonder if it tastes like foot smells.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I might be a 12 year old boy in a mom's body.  At least some of the time.  For now, I think it's OK, but I'm going to have to train myself not to laugh uncontrollably every time Roxanne coughs and farts at the same time.  Because that seriously cracks me up.  I still have vivid memories of being punished when I laughed at an accidental fart at the dinner table.  So I'm inferring that parents are not supposed to perpetuate the notion that things like farts and burps are funny.  Any tips would be appreciated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5678121225993391201?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5678121225993391201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5678121225993391201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5678121225993391201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5678121225993391201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-has-come.html' title='The time has come'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7926952437561254788</id><published>2008-04-24T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:47:40.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Woes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/SBEIwCmtluI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Z7kU7IIB47Q/s1600-h/Me+and+Roxanne+stripes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/SBEIwCmtluI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Z7kU7IIB47Q/s400/Me+and+Roxanne+stripes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192941466760877794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne had her 4 month check up yesterday.  Everything was fantastic, especially Roxanne's size.  She's almost 16 pounds and she's 25 inches tall.  The shots weren't great, but she really got over it very quickly.  Maybe because they went in her thighs, and as the nurse put it, "she needs butter for those rolls."  She actually specified honey butter, but I think the metaphor still works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pediatrician said that at Roxanne's weight, she should really be able to go 8 hours a night without eating.  She also pointed out that now that Roxanne can roll, she should probably be in her crib.  I sort of don't want to do it though.  I'm the kind of mom who sometimes takes the baby into the bathroom with me rather than set her down and listen to her cry.  I mean seriously.  It's going to be a tough transition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7926952437561254788?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7926952437561254788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7926952437561254788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7926952437561254788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7926952437561254788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/04/sleep-woes.html' title='Sleep Woes'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/SBEIwCmtluI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Z7kU7IIB47Q/s72-c/Me+and+Roxanne+stripes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8599963144233436927</id><published>2008-04-15T16:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T16:45:41.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ch-ch-ch-changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2019/2410787616_d61e5074af.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2019/2410787616_d61e5074af.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne's eyes are changing color!  It's so neat to see.  They have been a very dark blue/grey color since she was born, but today I noticed that they are getting more green.  Justin and I both have hazel eyes, so I assumed hers would end up the same color, and it definitely looks like that is what's coming.  It's so incredible to watch how much she is changing.  She makes new sounds every few days, and I think, "where did that come from?" and then it jettisons me back to my college courses in linguistics and language acquisition.  I never really thought I'd be watching these things in my own baby.  I watched these dry documentaries on things like Noam Chomsky's theory of Universal Grammar and the myth of "motherese" (the gibberish that babies supposedly learn from their moms) and while I was enthralled (I was a dork about linguistics, I admit), it's not the same as watching a baby experiment with sounds.  Beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8599963144233436927?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8599963144233436927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8599963144233436927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8599963144233436927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8599963144233436927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/04/ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='ch-ch-ch-changes'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4077917025918663601</id><published>2008-04-04T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T05:29:58.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Constant adoration</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3060/2381506960_a0bb20771d.jpg?v=1207312163"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3060/2381506960_a0bb20771d.jpg?v=1207312163" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne has started giggling a little bit.  It's probably the cutest sound I've ever heard.  Unfortunately, I can't seem to reliably make it happen.  She's only giggled a handful of times now, and one of them was at the dog.  She apparently giggles and talks all day long with Andrea, our day care provider.  Andrea gives me little reports every day when I pick Roxanne up about how she kept the other babies awake by talking and screaming.  She also told me that yesterday Roxanne was just talking in her swing, and two of the other babies, both little boys and closer to 12 months old, just sat in front of her and listened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She definitely likes attention.  When we go out and about, when someone talks to her, she usually smiles at them and then tucks her head into my shoulder, like a little coquette.  She especially does this to her daddy.  She seems averse to kisses though.  When you start kissing her face she turns away and occasionally reaches up a chubby hand to swat you off.  I'm going to encourage this behavior.  Maybe we can keep it going until she's about 35 and I'm comfortable with the thought of her dating.  But 40 would be OK, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be perfectly honest, and admit that right now, one of my favorite things about baby is her little naked booty with cellulite on it.  It just makes me laugh.  Justin teases me that I like to give her baths just so I can see it.  This is probably partially true.  But I also like watching her try to eat her rubber ducky.  She pulls it towards her mouth slowly, and then at the last minute, she crams it in there with lightning speed and fury, giving her head a triumphant little toss.  Perhaps I like watching this because usually it is something that belongs to me headed into that mouth of hers, like my hair, my finger, my cheek, my chin, my arm... I could go on.  For someone with no teeth, she's got a pretty firm bite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4077917025918663601?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4077917025918663601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4077917025918663601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4077917025918663601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4077917025918663601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/04/constant-adoration.html' title='Constant adoration'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-6247078884915713</id><published>2008-03-24T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T19:27:08.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter!  (one day late)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2051/2353198026_0197aa8e2b.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2051/2353198026_0197aa8e2b.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-6247078884915713?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/6247078884915713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=6247078884915713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6247078884915713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6247078884915713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-easter-one-day-late.html' title='Happy Easter!  (one day late)'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1010553065936455576</id><published>2008-03-20T18:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T19:07:42.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Grief</title><content type='html'>We had a little adventure tonight.  When we got home, Roxanne was in a great mood so I thought we could all enjoy the weather and walk the dog as a family.  It was a little chillier than we thought, so after our walk, I was relieved to get home.  Then we realized that we were locked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have 3 locks on our door.  One deadbolt that works, one deadbolt that is old and doesn't do anything, and then the knob lock.  We had locked the knob lock, which is why we didn't notice that we didn't have our keys.  Our landlord lives one door over, so we really didn't panic at first.  Then he didn't answer our phone calls.  After a half hour or so, we called a locksmith (thank goodness we had a phone with us).  Eventually, a locksmith came.  He had a heavy accent, and was wearing this odd Eurotrash outfit.  His jeans were really tight and hip, but he had a slight pot belly, and for 97% of the time he was working on the door, his rear end was halfway out of his pants.  He took a phone call while he was working, and Justin and I have been trying to figure out where he was from.  We think either Israel or Iran.  He was really nice, but between the cold, the frustration of not being able to get a hold of our landlord, and the $175 bill, it was sort of a moot point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne behaved herself very well.  I hadn't brought her out in a carrier or anything, since we thought it would be a quick trip.  I ended up putting her inside the front of my dress, since I was wearing a thin (and short sleeved) vintage dress.  Thank goodness people liked stretchy cotton in the 80's.  I also had to nurse her in front of our apartment, with no blanket or sling to hide behind.   At one point, one of our neighbors (there are only 4 units in our complex) cracked his blinds and looked out.  I saw him do it, and wondered what he thought about us.  Our little family, complete with our beagle, Katie, huddled on our front stoop.  Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't feeling hospitable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roughly four minutes before the locksmith was able to finally get the door open, Roxanne pooped audibly and with several loud grunts.  I'm pretty sure even the locksmith heard it.  When Justin and I moved into this apartment, we noticed that the locks were installed upside down.  We thought it was weird.  According to the locksmith, this makes it harder to break in.  It apparently also makes it much harder for the locksmith.  I was starting to think that I'd have to hold a poopy baby huddled on the front stoop for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes after our door finally opened, the landlord came home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1010553065936455576?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1010553065936455576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1010553065936455576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1010553065936455576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1010553065936455576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-grief.html' title='Good Grief'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7397624231547247933</id><published>2008-03-18T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T18:24:02.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Quirks</title><content type='html'>Roxanne is extremely displeased by nasal noises.  She could be totally and completely asleep, like that baby sleep where you can cut their finger nails without them waking up, and if my husband blows his nose in the downstairs living room, she instantly wakes up with a start.  If I'm nursing her and I sniffle, she stiffens and cuts her stare sideways to give me the stink eye.  The really strange thing is that my husband and I can be carrying on a normal conversation at a normal volume, and she can easily sleep through it, but if Justin does that icky hock back a lugey (how do you even spell that?) thing, she starts fussing.  It's like she's got some kind of nasal alarm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps she's destined to be an Ear, Nose, Throat Doctor and cure the stuffy noses of the world.  I sure hope so.  I haven't signed up for a 401K plan yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7397624231547247933?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7397624231547247933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7397624231547247933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7397624231547247933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7397624231547247933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/baby-quirks.html' title='Baby Quirks'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2508442075289025404</id><published>2008-03-14T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T20:11:53.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is what my daughter looks like when she's sick</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3113/2334400214_c7e2fdb6b7.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3113/2334400214_c7e2fdb6b7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm sick, it's kind of reminiscent of the mug shot of Nick Nolte.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2508442075289025404?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2508442075289025404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2508442075289025404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2508442075289025404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2508442075289025404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-is-what-my-daughter-looks-like.html' title='This is what my daughter looks like when she&apos;s sick'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8677018486957621622</id><published>2008-03-14T05:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T06:03:52.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The view from the trenches</title><content type='html'>Our family spent Saturday night through Wednesday in the throws of rotavirus.  It was a blur of vomiting, fever, diarrhea, body aches, and general ickiness.  Yesterday we all finally went back to work and day care respectively, but this morning Roxanne threw up in the car again.  So now the two of us are back home again and I'm just hoping against hope that it is just a big spit-up.  I'm currently waiting for the pediatrician's office to open so I can call and try to get her in.  Of course, since they open at 9, the phone line has a busy signal for the first half hour or so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That brings me to another point.  We had to get in for an emergency appointment on Monday there and our appointment was for 11:15.  Of course Roxanne had a blow out when were walking out the door, and we ended up being fifteen minutes late (I did call and warn them we were late).  When we got there, the waiting room was packed with sniffly babies and toddlers.  Our pediatrician does not have a sick and well waiting room.  We ended up being in the waiting room for about 45 minutes, and the whole time I kept wondering whether or not Roxanne was infecting all these kids with her virus, and also what viruses we might be picking up.  By the time we got called back, I was crying, and Roxanne had pooped through her outfit.  Five minutes after being in the exam room, I had to go throw up.  I love the staff at our pediatrician so I hate to complain, but it just seems terrible to have one tiny waiting room packed full of sick and well kids.  I guess that's another part of living intown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on Monday we went to Scottish Rite to get an ultrasound on Roxanne's belly because the pediatrician wanted to make sure that everything looked OK with her insides.  The ultrasound was fortunately normal, but the trip was awful, too.  I was still throwing up constantly, and Roxanne was really hungry, but we had to make her wait 3 hours to eat for the ultrasound.  She was inconsolable in the waiting room of radiology until two of the hospital clowns came in and sang just for her.  She was totally mesmerized. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so exhausted with this.  It's so hard to see your baby sick.  Especially when you feel like they are getting most of it from being in day care.  We love her day care, and there are very few other babies in with her, but still.  I wish I could work from home.  Maybe if the entire "work from home" job market weren't primarily populated with scams...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8677018486957621622?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8677018486957621622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8677018486957621622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8677018486957621622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8677018486957621622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/view-from-trenches.html' title='The view from the trenches'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7358012542740241227</id><published>2008-03-03T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T18:28:57.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby at a bar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3189/2309068336_740b45325e_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3189/2309068336_740b45325e_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've done it.  On Friday evening, I picked Roxanne up from day care and brought her back to Midtown to the Spotted Dog Tavern.  It was one of my co-workers birthdays, and two of my co-workers who have been out of town for quite a while were back visiting, so I decided to go.  I was a little worried about bringing her in there for several reasons.  I did know that it was a non-smoking bar since all Atlanta restaurants and bars are now non-smoking, and since it was only 5:30, I knew there wouldn't be too many obnoxiously drunk people.  It's definitely a place where people who work in the Bank of America Tower go after work to have a drink.  They also have food, so it's sort of a restaurant, too (can you tell I'm justifying?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was worried mostly about noise.  It is always really loud in the Spotted Dog, and although they usually play a nice selection of music, they were playing awful stuff like Ace of Base on Friday night.  Justin took MARTA up to us from his job, and he agreed that it was a little loud for baby.  However, all of my co-workers (who are definitely also friends) were enamored with Roxanne.  She got passed around a little bit, and got her picture taken about fifty times (don't we all love camera phones?).  I was only a little bit uncomfortable because I worried about what the other patrons were thinking.  One man in particular was sitting at a table with some friends and kept turning around on his stool to stare at us.  I thought he looked sort of irritated, and it was making me feel guilty.  After about half an hour, we decided to leave.  I was shocked when the man who had been staring at us tried to get my attention on the way out, and with a big goofy grin asked "how old is the baby?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7358012542740241227?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7358012542740241227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7358012542740241227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7358012542740241227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7358012542740241227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/03/baby-at-bar.html' title='Baby at a bar'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3189/2309068336_740b45325e_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4821025745976796497</id><published>2008-02-24T04:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T04:34:36.499-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2229/2280019451_9b15777d63.jpg?v=1203555995"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2229/2280019451_9b15777d63.jpg?v=1203555995" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have got to learn to be less neurotically uncomfortable around strangers.  Every time Justin and I go out with Roxanne, there are several people who stop us, get close to Roxanne and ask all kinds of questions about her and want to touch her hands or cheeks, and generally freak me out.  On a logical level, I certainly understand that they are being friendly, and I should appreciate their attention, since it's also just as often that people look at my baby with the same look that they might make if I had brought a two-weeks-dead raccoon into a restaurant.  But somehow, it is just hard for me to respond appropriately.  I often take the tactic of avoiding eye contact, acting interested in something on the other side of the room, and pretending to not hear the cooing and "oh, look at the baby."  I'm pretty sure this makes me sort of a jerk.  Honestly though, sometimes people can really be bizarre.  Like the women who asked me at Publix if the bottle I was giving my daughter was breast milk.  She said she could tell it was because Roxanne was a "fluffy" baby.  She then went on to say that it was best for mama and baby.  I sort of nodded and smiled.  In my mind, I was still puzzling over her use of the word "fluffy."  What does that even mean?  Until I figure it out, I have been proudly telling my friends that I have it on good authority that I have a "fluffy" baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4821025745976796497?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4821025745976796497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4821025745976796497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4821025745976796497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4821025745976796497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/02/strangers.html' title='Strangers'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5413987844158188073</id><published>2008-02-20T17:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T18:00:45.784-08:00</updated><title type='text'>President's Day adventures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3137/2280019711_c863b21340.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3137/2280019711_c863b21340.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had work off on Monday, so I ran some errands with Roxanne.  We drove Justin to work to give him a break from Marta (we share a car, and now that I take Roxanne to day care every morning, he walks to Marta) and then went to Publix.  That was a learning experience for me.  It was really not too bad, and I carried Roxanne in the sling.  She slept for most of the time, but it was a little tough trying to pick things up, etc.  They always offer to load your groceries for you, but I always turn them down, since it weirds me out for the same reason I can't get a pedicure; it's too much like having a servant or something.  This was the first time I regretted not accepting the help.  I was at the Publix on Ponce De Leon right near North Highland, and there are often people in the parking lot sharking around for money or groceries, and it has never bothered me before, but on Monday, I found myself stalling at the exit with my groceries when I spotted a rough looking homeless man talking to the woman parked next to me.  He helped her load her car (by putting one bag of groceries in) and then bothered her until she gave him some groceries out of her car.  I'm used to this sort of thing, since I work in midtown and live in the city, but it was the first time I've really run into it while being alone with Roxanne.  I realized that it made me uncomfortable and defensive.  This surprised me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Publix, we went home for feeding and napping.  We went to pick up Justin for lunch at Highland Bakery but were a little late since Roxanne did an ENORMOUS poop right as we were leaving that necessitated everything short of a bath.  After lunch, we headed up to Alpharetta to go to Babies R Us for some necessities.  It was sort of an adventure.  My mom met us there in the nursing room, which was where I went immediately upon arrival.  Roxanne was acting like she hadn't been fed in months, and so I was in a big rush to get her fed.  I didn't realize that her diaper had come open on one side, and that she had peed while in my lap.  My entire upper inner thigh region was soaked.  After she finished eating, my mom helped me change her diaper and outfit and wipe her down, but there was nothing I could do about my pants.  The baby books tell you to keep an extra outfit for baby, but not for mom.  So I spent the next hour or so with a huge wet spot (see photo) placed right where it would have been if I had peed my pants.  People stared.  I saw them staring, but found that I didn't really care.  It was uncomfortable though.  It took me back to that time in second grade when I had an accident in the lunch line and had to wear borrowed sweat pants from the clinic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spending an hour or so getting all kinds of little things I needed, I went back to the feeding room to let Roxanne eat again.  I was in there for about 20 minutes or so, gabbing with my mom and letting Roxanne have a good meal.  When we came out, we discovered that the employees had taken my cart away.  It was really frustrating, because you can't take your cart into the area where you can nurse (which is back by the bathrooms) so you have to leave your cart by the entrance.  Everyone does this, and I was really disappointed when this happened.  We had to go up front and have an employee pull everything out of the infant care bin one by one.  I still ended up getting home and realizing that there were several things I had picked out to buy but never got back.  Oh well.  I guess it made me spend less money...  I still very much appreciate the fact that the store offers the nursing room, since it's comfortable, and there are even free diapers and wipes on the changing tables in there, but the whole cart thing was really frustrating.  Especially on top of the wet pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a memorable day, and I had so much fun with Roxanne.  I guess that's one good part about being a working mom.  When you get a day off, you enjoy every last second of it.  Even the parts where you catch a stranger shifting their eyes from your adorable baby to your suspiciously wet crotch and then to your face, perhaps looking for an explanation, but finding only the smile of a proud parent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5413987844158188073?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5413987844158188073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5413987844158188073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5413987844158188073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5413987844158188073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/02/presidents-day-adventures.html' title='President&apos;s Day adventures'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4470393662559645555</id><published>2008-02-12T17:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T17:28:14.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some thoughts on breastfeeding</title><content type='html'>I have to say that when I was pregnant, I read lots of books about breastfeeding, I went to a breastfeeding class at Piedmont (which I HIGHLY recommend) and talked to as many women as I could about how to succeed.  However, I was sort of dubious towards a lot of these resources.  There is this sort of hippy dippy undertone in a lot of the literature that's all very "Earth Mother" and to be honest, I've always found that sort of annoying.  I remember at one of my baby showers, which my stepmom held at Pastis in Roswell, I saw a woman with her two toddlers and husband breastfeeding at a table out in the middle of the dining room.  Pastis is a very nice restaurant, like with a chef.  It struck me as sort of rude to breastfeed in there, and maybe even sort of rude to bring toddlers to such a fancy place.  However, that's an entirely different topic.  I assumed that I would NEVER breastfeed in public, which I haven't (unless you count the lounge areas of department store bathrooms, where patrons gave me the stink eye while I nursed).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sort of coming around to the hippy dippy viewpoints in some ways.  My daughter HATES the bottle.  Which has been frustrating and upsetting this week, since it's her first week in day care.  This also makes it tricky to eat out or even go shopping.  I'm starting to feel like I could just tuck her under a blanket and let her nurse through dinner at a local restaurant.  It would certainly be easy to do.  She's still pretty little right now and isn't too terribly active while eating.  But I just don't know if I could do it.  People really don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've come to really love nursing Roxanne.  She is so affectionate, and holds onto me while eating.  She sometimes looks up at me while she's eating, and I think about how content I can make her and how much I am giving her by breastfeeding, and it really melts my heart.  Sometimes she is in a playful mood while she eats and smiles at me and wriggles around, all the while being very sure to stay eating.  There are also times when she is very businesslike, and focused on her task at hand.  If her daddy tries to kiss her while she's in this mood, she swats an arm at him, like he's a threat.  These are moments I will treasure when she is a big kid, and no longer nestled up to me, our breathing falling into the same pattern as I ruffle and smooth her baby hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4470393662559645555?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4470393662559645555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4470393662559645555' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4470393662559645555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4470393662559645555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/02/some-thoughts-on-breastfeeding.html' title='Some thoughts on breastfeeding'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8724621814313367819</id><published>2008-02-04T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:47:40.952-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nipple confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='newborn baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding'/><title type='text'>One more week of paradise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R6dku2kn4DI/AAAAAAAAADg/kcwkf1kFhTA/s1600-h/leo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R6dku2kn4DI/AAAAAAAAADg/kcwkf1kFhTA/s400/leo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163206253889445938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going back to work a week from today.  Every time I think about it, I get a little choked up.  But I'm trying to stay positive and enjoy this last week as much as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin and I are still waging war with Roxanne over taking a bottle.  We've tried three different bottles so far, and she hates them all equally.  I know she will eventually settle enough and take one, since she's not a child to miss meals, but it's tough to see her get so upset.  Yesterday I bought some Playtex orthodontic nipples to try, and it would be lovely if those worked, since we have a ton of Playtex drop-ins stuff.  I had been buying it up while I was still pregnant, not realizing that it's not always up to parents which bottle will be best...  I was planning on buying an &lt;a href="http://www.adiri.com/"&gt;Adiri&lt;/a&gt; bottle, since they just started carrying them at Babies R Us, but they didn't have any when I went yesterday.  They had them a week ago...  I know those things sell like hot cakes, so maybe they were sold out.  In the end, I would have been frustrated to buy a $12 fancy bottle if Roxanne ended up not liking it anyways.  They look cool, and the lactation consultant at Piedmont recommended them, but I'm just not sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also bought diapers for the first time yesterday.  Can you believe that?  My sister and brother-in-law threw us a diaper shower, and we had enough to last us until now.  We actually still have some more from the shower, but we were running low, so we went ahead and bought some more.  We've been using Pampers, but bought Huggies last night to try.  The Pampers tend to leak with Roxanne, and when she was still in the teeny size, the Huggies were the best for her shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it amazing how much time new parents spend thinking about bottles, diapers and the bodily functions of their baby?  I wouldn't trade it for the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8724621814313367819?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8724621814313367819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8724621814313367819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8724621814313367819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8724621814313367819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-more-week-of-paradise.html' title='One more week of paradise'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R6dku2kn4DI/AAAAAAAAADg/kcwkf1kFhTA/s72-c/leo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2197398302063880284</id><published>2008-01-27T10:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T10:29:20.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Smiles!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2342/2221463972_6542a16616.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2342/2221463972_6542a16616.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne is smiling now.  She usually only does it in the mornings when she first wakes up (I don't know who she got that trait from, since me and Justin are not exactly chipper when we wake up).  It's so absolutely adorable.  It's nice that she is getting more and more interactive.  She is more and more alert, too.  She likes hand puppets, and will look at some of her toys now, too.  She's still not really that interested in most of them, and they seem to fascinate me and Daddy more than her, but still.  This baby business sure is fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2197398302063880284?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2197398302063880284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2197398302063880284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2197398302063880284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2197398302063880284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/01/baby-smiles.html' title='Baby Smiles!'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-1086570087753652124</id><published>2008-01-20T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T15:22:45.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wardrobe Nightmares</title><content type='html'>So, Roxanne just turned one month old yesterday.  She's doing wonderfully, but she's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wreaking&lt;/span&gt; havoc on my clothes (and hers).  In the last three days, she's thrown up on me twice, and pooped on me once.  And I'm not talking spit up.  I'm talking throw up.  Note the difference in verbs.  One is much more active and far-reaching than the other.  When she spits up on me, I usually just wipe it off and move on.  With throw up, I have to change both shirt and pants.  The problem is that I only have one pair of jeans that fit my totally weird postpartum&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; figure.  This means that today, when my friend came for a visit, I had to wear my Old Navy fleece pajama pants with snow flakes on them.  I felt extremely sophisticated.  I also have a limited number of shirts that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;accommodate&lt;/span&gt; my new mom figure, and so this has caused some issues, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did go shopping with my mom a couple of weeks ago and bought a new work wardrobe at Ross.  I love Ross.  The one over by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lindbergh&lt;/span&gt; is fabulous.  I got three dresses, a nice pair of pants, said pair of jeans, and four shirts for $65.  Oh, this also includes a movie.  My mom found  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Roxanne &lt;/span&gt;with Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah in the movies there, and since it was $5, I just had to buy it.  I haven't watched it since I was about 8 years old, so I'm excited to see it again.  I know I liked it then.  I was enamored with Steve Martin from watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Parenthood&lt;/span&gt; over and over again and I loved Daryl Hannah from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Splash&lt;/span&gt;.  I might have been kind of a weird 8 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hope is that new clothes will ease the transition back to work a little bit.  I thought maybe if I was excited to wear new clothes, I'd be slightly less hysterical about leaving Roxanne at day care.  I'm still forecasting lots of tears.  Lots of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-1086570087753652124?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/1086570087753652124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=1086570087753652124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1086570087753652124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/1086570087753652124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/01/wardrobe-nightmares.html' title='Wardrobe Nightmares'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-4795603944074273225</id><published>2008-01-17T07:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T07:40:17.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Smooth Transitions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2391/2190856420_b74d15b0cd.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2391/2190856420_b74d15b0cd.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how quickly I'm becoming a mom.  Even though I worked as a vet technician and/or a "kennel technician" (poop scooper) for over a year in high school, I'm still grossed out pretty easily.  Mainly by things like snot and boogers.  Well, for the last two days, I've thought nothing of dripping breast milk into my daughter's stuffy nose and then suctioning it back out along with all the yucky stuff in there.  It's only been four weeks!  By the time she's a year old I'll probably be snacking on her soggy, half-gummed-on graham crackers without a second thought.  Ick.  By the way, that trick with breast milk and the stuffy nose works wonders.  Honestly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-4795603944074273225?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/4795603944074273225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=4795603944074273225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4795603944074273225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/4795603944074273225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/01/smooth-transitions.html' title='Smooth Transitions'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-289913152891296552</id><published>2008-01-07T05:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T05:26:45.937-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maternity Leave Bliss</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I'm already almost halfway through my maternity leave.  I feel like I need another six months or so.  I wish Justin and I could afford for me to not work, even though I like my job a lot.  Unfortunately, we can't even afford for me to take a longer maternity leave.  I knew from the moment I was pregnant that putting the baby in day care would be very very difficult.  We have a fantastic in-home day care set up for Roxanne, and that helps, but I'm still having a hard time thinking about it.  It's overwhelming.  And a six week old baby is still so tiny.  I wish America had standard 12 week maternity leave.  That would be fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lucky that my employer is flexible enough to let me work part time when I come back if I choose to, but I'm not sure we can afford that.  Adding the monthly expense of day care is a pretty big deal.  At the very least, I hope to change my schedule to something like 7 to 3 so that I'll have more time with her.  In a perfect world, I would love to work from home.  Roxanne would be the perfect baby for that, since she's so calm and relaxed most of the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, at least she's finally here, and she's perfect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-289913152891296552?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/289913152891296552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=289913152891296552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/289913152891296552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/289913152891296552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2008/01/maternity-leave-bliss.html' title='Maternity Leave Bliss'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-5179578325977510335</id><published>2007-12-30T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T15:23:24.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We need some new sidewalks</title><content type='html'>We took Roxanne out yesterday for her first walk.  The weather was pretty mild, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity.  After trying to decide if I wanted to take her in the sling or the stroller, I finally opted for the stroller, after thinking of all the hills around here.  We have the typical Graco SnugRide car seat and the stroller we have is the "Callista," and the two actually came as a set.  We love them!  The stroller is so easy to push, and the seat is much easier to carry than others I've seen.  However, the sidewalks in Lake Claire are really horrific.  It's amazing how we never noticed in the past, since we just walk the dog, but pushing the stroller down McLendon was sort of like off-roading.  Poor Roxanne's hat kept falling in her face, which made her very mad.  Finally we took it off, and promptly ran into one of Justin's co-workers, who complimented us on the baby, and suggested politely that she might need a hat for the weather.  It was a proud moment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, we had a really nice time, and I haven't felt so good since before I got pregnant.  I've never been much for fitness, so when I found out I was pregnant, I promised myself I'd try harder to be in good shape, just so that our family can do lots of fun outdoorsy stuff.  And so I don't maintain a "mommy pouch" on my belly for the next 40 years.  For now, long walks are good.  I've got to take baby steps.  And excuse the pun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-5179578325977510335?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/5179578325977510335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=5179578325977510335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5179578325977510335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/5179578325977510335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/12/we-need-some-new-sidewalks.html' title='We need some new sidewalks'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-6653765107376564654</id><published>2007-12-28T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T08:27:53.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our First Week Home</title><content type='html'>Even though Roxanne was born on Wednesday the 19&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, today marks the end of our first week at home, as we were at the hospital for two days after she was born.  I can't believe it's already been a week!  We've had lots of visitors, and lots of time to bond with Roxanne.  She really is just the best baby.  I'm sure all parents think that, but I really mean it.  Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's very hard to think of myself as a parent.  My husband and I are pretty young to be parents, since I'm 24 and he's 26, and sometimes I still feel like an awkward high-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;schooler&lt;/span&gt;.  But it really amazes me at how naturally everything changes.  While I do have trouble imagining myself driving around town in a minivan or issuing threats to a misbehaving toddler, I have been able to adjust to being a complete and total slave to this little baby.  I sometimes get completely overtaken with how much I love her, and how much I want her to have everything she needs.  It's really a unique experience.  My husband and I sit around and talk about how we never saw it coming.  You think you have some idea about what it will be like, but it's not even close.  We're like honeymooners.  Or at least over the moon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-6653765107376564654?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/6653765107376564654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=6653765107376564654' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6653765107376564654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6653765107376564654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/12/our-first-week-home.html' title='Our First Week Home'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7674686340980100182</id><published>2007-12-26T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:47:41.114-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roxanne'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shoulder dystocia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='newborn'/><title type='text'>Announcing Roxanne Elizabeth Lilly!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R3KaJgNofSI/AAAAAAAAADU/Iqmsrqe3Fs8/s1600-h/Roxanne+Hospital.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R3KaJgNofSI/AAAAAAAAADU/Iqmsrqe3Fs8/s320/Roxanne+Hospital.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148346812094512418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone had happy holidays!  We certainly did.  Our daughter was born on December 19, 2007 at 11:16 pm.  She weighed in at 9 pounds 5 ounces and 21.5 inches long.  She's a very big baby!  I'm exhausted already, but very very happy.  She is such a wonderful baby, and not very fussy.  She's calm, and absolutely adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a scare during her birth, as Roxanne had the rare birth complication called shoulder dystocia, meaning that she got her shoulder stuck on her way out of her mama.  Her left shoulder was not moving until yesterday, although she's been able to move her left hand and lower arm from birth.  However, as of yesterday, she's been using her left arm almost as much as her right!  Our pediatrician has referred us to a specialist at Eggleston to talk about physical therapy, etc., as shoulder dystotia often results in nerve damage that makes it necessary to have physical therapy and possibly surgery by the time the baby is a toddler.  However, there is also the chance that they just work it out on their own, and start using the shoulder again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are thinking that Roxanne will fall into the second category.  You should have seen how excited we were yesterday when she starting flailing her left arm in the bassinet!  She still is not using her left arm/shoulder nearly as much as the right one, but she's still using it!  Yesterday she was lifting her left arm about halfway into the air, and today she's gotten it to her ear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first pediatrician visit was Monday, and that went well, but Roxanne's weight had dropped to 8 pounds 4 ounces.  The doctor was a little concerned that we would need to put her on supplements, since she had lost 11% of her birth-weight.  However, since my milk had just come in, the doctor let us come in yesterday morning to weigh her one more time before deciding.  So overnight, I tried to feed every two hours, and Roxanne obliged nicely.  So, Roxanne ended up weighing in at 8 pounds 14 ounces yesterday.  That means she gained ten ounces in one day!  We think she will be an overachiever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7674686340980100182?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7674686340980100182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7674686340980100182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7674686340980100182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7674686340980100182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/12/announcing-roxanne-elizabeth-lilly.html' title='Announcing Roxanne Elizabeth Lilly!'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vKfle4KSPfg/R3KaJgNofSI/AAAAAAAAADU/Iqmsrqe3Fs8/s72-c/Roxanne+Hospital.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-2631388621776218008</id><published>2007-12-11T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T15:23:53.079-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='binders'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='etsy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christmas shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='young blood gallery'/><title type='text'>Christmas Shopping!</title><content type='html'>Well, Christmas shopping at 37 weeks pregnant has been interesting.  I have to say, I'm completely dependent upon the smaller, independent places this year.  I can't deal with the mall.  My husband and I have had fun, though, and found some truly unique gifts.  There is a local gallery/boutique called &lt;a href="http://www.youngbloodgallery.com/"&gt;Young Blood&lt;/a&gt;, over in East Atlanta, and we love hunting for gifts there.  It's nice to support crafters, and a local business.  I bought a pot there on Saturday for a work gift exchange, and it is actually something that one of my &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5056774"&gt;friends&lt;/a&gt; made.  She has a small collection of pottery in the boutique, and it's gorgeous!  I also found a very unique gift for my little sister, who is in that super-hard-to-buy-for tween age group.  Shopping for a sixth grader is tough!  But I think she'll love what I got her.  Very hip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also have really cute baby things at Young Blood.  My favorite being the rockabilly bibs.  They have little anchors and things on them, and the designs are covered in a layer of clear vinyl to protect the design.  They also have lovely little dresses and funky onesies.  Fun stuff! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Binders art store in Buckhead to find gifts for my nieces, and that was a blast.  They have so many great little art kits for kids, and I think those are some of the best gifts you can give.  It's nice to pick out something that a kid can "do" rather than just something that they can "have."  Does that make sense?  Then they can also have the fun of completing the project, and hopefully remember making it.  Also, with all of the toy recalls, I figured it would just be easier to take that route.  Not that I want shoppers to boycott toys.  It always makes me nervous when these huge recallse happen that somehow the entire economy is going to crash if enough Polly Pockets aren't bought this December.  I just don't want to buy them.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-2631388621776218008?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/2631388621776218008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=2631388621776218008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2631388621776218008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/2631388621776218008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-shopping.html' title='Christmas Shopping!'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7174154633170737463</id><published>2007-12-03T13:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T20:31:15.147-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buckhead'/><title type='text'>Oh Mama, these mood swings!</title><content type='html'>Good grief I'm getting tired of being pregnant.  I feel like one big giant sized ball of hormones.  I am two days away from being 37 weeks pregnant, and starting to hope that maybe I'll be one of those women who have really healthy and happy babies at 37 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, my husband and I trekked up the suburban speedway, also known as 400, to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Buckhead&lt;/span&gt;.  I have been determined to get some good socks for labor, and I decided that Old Navy would be a good place to look.  While we could have gone to Atlantic Station for Old Navy, I'm basically not motivated to deal with all that business.   Atlantic Station is OK for me most of the time, but that Old Navy is too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways, we were at Old Navy, where I found heavenly chenille socks, and heavenly fleece pants.  As we left, I asked my husband if we could stop into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DSW&lt;/span&gt; so I could check for some shoes, maybe some I could wear to our fancy office Christmas party on Friday.  In usual Justin manner, he stuck out his jaw with a deep sigh, and said "No shoes are going to fit you right now.  What is the point?" and I immediately got the chin shake.  You know, the one where you know you are about to cry in public, and since I am already attracting stares with my gigantic belly, I was doubly mortified.  I hurried through the parking lot, past the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Buckhead&lt;/span&gt; Mercedes and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Saabs&lt;/span&gt; that were taking up the area in front of Toys 'R Us and tried to not think about my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cankles&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried the whole way home, Justin driving in shocked silence.  I tried to explain why I was upset, and that I wasn't mad at him, but my dang nose wouldn't stop running, and I never got any of it out.  I even had to collapse dramatically on the bed at home and cry a little more.  That's how it goes lately.  Up and down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7174154633170737463?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7174154633170737463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7174154633170737463' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7174154633170737463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7174154633170737463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-mama-these-mood-swings.html' title='Oh Mama, these mood swings!'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8540216631252931231</id><published>2007-11-28T06:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T06:22:41.077-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ponce de leon avenue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suburbs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='empty stocking fund'/><title type='text'>My Almost Mother Heart is Hurting</title><content type='html'>I really do love Atlanta.  But when I heard the news this morning about all of the gifts being stolen from City Hall East that were being stored by the Empty Stocking Fund for needy children, that old familiar thought of moving up to Canada hit me again.  Sort of like when Bush got reelected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I keep thinking about 48,000 little kids who may or may not get Christmas gifts this year, all due to some greedy and horrible people who found an open window to the warehouse and made off with gifts valued at roughly $50,000.  It's really just awful.  I also think about all of the well-wishers who sacrificed money and time to accumulate that many gifts, and about how little time it probably took for those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thieves&lt;/span&gt; to get away with all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, my husband and I end up driving up and down Ponce &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Leon on a pretty regular basis, and I have turned into one of those people who discreetly locks the car doors every time we are on Ponce.  It does fascinate me though, looking at all of the shady business going on in broad daylight, and the women that are CLEARLY not walking up and down Ponce for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt;, and wondering why things work like that.  My husband and I talk about how neat it would be to live in Midtown, and be right in the middle of everything, but the truth of the matter is, we don't want to deal with all of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;yuckiness&lt;/span&gt;.  Lake Claire is still an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;in town&lt;/span&gt; neighborhood, but we don't have to deal with being afraid to run from the car to the door, and we don't get asked for change every time we step outside.  We're not going to run to the suburbs now that the baby is on the way, but I am glad we are in a safer neighborhood in town.  And I can understand more why some people choose to raise kids in the suburbs.  It would certainly be easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8540216631252931231?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8540216631252931231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8540216631252931231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8540216631252931231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8540216631252931231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-almost-mother-heart-is-hurting.html' title='My Almost Mother Heart is Hurting'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-6256651737774149535</id><published>2007-11-23T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T07:46:03.821-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='concert'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Baby Music</title><content type='html'>My husband and I share a lot of love for music.  We like all kinds of music, but lately, we've been trying to figure out what the best baby music is.  Of course, there's always the classical music, and we got a Baby Einstein CD at a shower, and of course have lots of Debussy in our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt;, but we are also looking in our own favorites to find what kinds of things we'll play for the baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, it works like this:  We're in the car, driving to somewhere, and one of us puts in a new CD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This would be good baby music, don't you think?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um, I guess so.  Well, actually, I think it definitely would.  I think I'd like it if I was a baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We actually make a lot of hypothetical important parenting decisions this way.  It's pretty effective so far, and we have amassed a fair sized mental list of music that the baby will be forced to listen to before it is old enough to tell us it hates it.  Most of the music is either upbeat and poppy, like Of Montreal, and we feel will be fun to dance with baby to it, or is relaxing and pretty, like Bonnie Prince Billy (sort of folksy alt-country), which we will play when it's time to quiet down and get ready for bed.   In any case, we'll have to see what actually works.  We had hoped that Animal Collective would be a family favorite, but when we went to see their show at Variety Playhouse a few months back, the baby exhibited some distress calls.  Mainly kicking me in the ribs repeatedly when the music got too loud.  But don't worry, I did my research, and as long as you don't go to rock shows every day, you should be fine...  Let's just hope I didn't scar the baby before it's born from liking music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-6256651737774149535?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/6256651737774149535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=6256651737774149535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6256651737774149535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6256651737774149535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/11/baby-music.html' title='Baby Music'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-7138063496431935568</id><published>2007-11-18T19:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T19:55:22.795-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indie craft experience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='livie and luca shoes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atlanta'/><title type='text'>Indie Craft Experience</title><content type='html'>On Saturday, my husband and I went to the &lt;a href="http://ice-atlanta.com/"&gt;Indie Craft Experience&lt;/a&gt; in the Capitol View neighborhood in Atlanta.  It took place in a really neat building called &lt;a href="http://www.thebcomplex.com/"&gt;The B Complex&lt;/a&gt;, which is a gigantic warehousey type space used for all sorts of artsy purposes.   It really is a beautiful space.  Lots of neat details, and just an overwhelmingly large space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were around 70 vendors, and they all had their own unique and crafty offerings, and almost all of the vendors also have stores on &lt;a href="www.etsy.com"&gt;www.etsy.com&lt;/a&gt;, which is one of my favorite online marketplaces.  There were lots of vendors who targeted kids, and had really great kids stuff like toys (mostly stuffed animals) and funky baby clothes.  There was one stand with really cute baby and toddler shoes.  I can't vouch for quality, as I don't own any of them, but from looking and holding them, they felt very sturdy and well-made.  The website for the brand is &lt;a href="www.livieandluca.com"&gt;www.livieandluca.com&lt;/a&gt; and I encourage anyone to check it out!  They really were cute shoes, and each pair is hand made.  And the prices are really pretty reasonable.  Once I know our baby is into a shoe size that won't change in two weeks or so, I might get a pair.  They had some with little owls on them that really spoke to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a lot of kids at the festival, which I think is really neat.  I was worried that I'd feel like the odd square out, being pregnant and married around a bunch of young hipsters.  I'd say it was about a fifty/fifty split.  Lots of families.  We even made our own t-shirts, as they had a corner dedicated to stencils and fabric paint.  For five dollars, you got a t-shirt and use of the stencils and paints.  I did a shirt with the Indie Craft Experience logo on it, which is adorable.  The proceeds went to Hagar House, one of the fantastic local charities in Atlanta.  And it was definitely a huge draw for kids.  There were lots lined up stamping out funky designs like electric guitars and snow flakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my husband and I pretty much have our nursery wrapped up.  I'll be 35 weeks pregnant on Wednesday, and already people keep telling me that it looks like my belly has dropped some.  I'm feeling much better than I have in quite a while, even though I still have gigantic swollen feet.  I'm stomping around in fake Ugg boots from Target, hoping that my employers don't notice that they aren't really business casual.  Boots aren't on the dress code for our office, although, somewhat strangely, "Western Style Boots" are alright.  If I could jam these hams into cowboy boots, I'd definitely wear them with pride at work.  I still have my super hip thrift store Dingos that I bought in college two years ago.  It will be a while before I can get into them again...much less the vintage dresses I wore them with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, it's always refreshing for my husband and I to do something that we would have done pre-pregnancy and realize that it's still OK for us to be there.  I don't think we'll be popping into The Local for a beer any time soon, but our favorite art galleries are still OK.  At least for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-7138063496431935568?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/7138063496431935568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=7138063496431935568' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7138063496431935568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/7138063496431935568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/11/indie-craft-experience.html' title='Indie Craft Experience'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-8058333904093005964</id><published>2007-11-15T06:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T06:20:10.771-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beagle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='delivery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nursery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='labor'/><title type='text'>I can't believe it...</title><content type='html'>I went to the doctor for my 34 week visit and had to start talking about labor!  It made me very uncomfortable, as I am excited about the baby coming, but still thinking that I have at least 6 more weeks and that 6 more weeks is basically like 6 months which is basically like a year, which is basically like forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I realize that it could be as little as 3 weeks.  I have begun the vital task of memorizing the "How do I tell if I'm in labor?" brochure my doctor gave me yesterday, as one of my biggest fears is calling the doctor too soon or too late.  I had a woman in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-natal yoga class who got sent away from her doctor 3 or 4 times before they finally let her go to the hospital.  She was a little bit high strung.  However, I'm not going to throw stones, since between my husband and myself, we could very well get turned away 6 or 7 times.  My doctor told me in a very severe elementary school teacher voice that she doesn't want to hear from me until contractions are 5 minutes apart and painful.  Then she said, "remember those 3 things."  I didn't ask what the third thing was, as I didn't want to admit that I was sort of tuning her out thinking, "I've got so much time, I'll never remember what she's saying now once the baby is actually coming."  Oops.  So now is penance, with my trying to memorize the brochure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we aim to do a little bit more with the nursery, which is really coming along nicely.  We talked about going ahead and opening some of the big boxes, like the one for our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Graco&lt;/span&gt; travel set, with the stroller and carseat.  I keep getting paranoid that there is no base in there for the carseat, but then forgetting to look.  Then we need to open up the Diaper thingy.  I never remember which one is which, but we have the one that doesn't require special refills, and can just use regular grocery bags.  My husband is particularly concerned about our dog not being able to get into it, as she astounded us both the other night by somehow breaking into our lidded garbage can that stands a good four inches above her petite beagle frame, and feasting on roughly 11 or 12 chicken wing bones.  She seems alright &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;health wise&lt;/span&gt;, but the clean up was sticky and icky, and we can only imagine what might happen with baby mess...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-8058333904093005964?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/8058333904093005964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=8058333904093005964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8058333904093005964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/8058333904093005964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-cant-believe-it.html' title='I can&apos;t believe it...'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653847461591625750.post-6677720267153631136</id><published>2007-11-10T20:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T20:38:04.328-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chatagua Festival'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Football'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cankles'/><title type='text'>Pushing it...</title><content type='html'>I hate to think that I'm turning into one of those drama queen pregnant ladies, who is constantly getting out of things due to swollen feet and general exhaustion, but it's already starting.  Today my husband and I trekked &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Outside the Perimeter&lt;/span&gt; for some family fun.  And it was fun.  We went up to Winder for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chatagua&lt;/span&gt; Festival, where my nieces (both under the age of 4) were performing with their dance class.  It was glorious.  Watching them do their dance to the "Dancing Machine" song was hysterical.  The youngest, Chloe, followed along nicely, only she reversed every step, lifting her left arm when the teacher was lifting her right, and turning the wrong way on each twirl.  It didn't matter though.  Most of the girls were just standing, eyes glazed, shuffling the odd tap shoe every once in a while, and looking for Mommy and Daddy in the crowd.  Ella, the older of the two, was following about half of the steps, and looking utterly graceful and beautiful with all of them.  As I watched, my hand automatically moved to my belly, and I pondered whether we'd have ballet classes in our future, or if it would be something with a little less pink and satin, like "creative movement" or yoga. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the early months of being pregnant and not knowing the sex of our baby, I assumed that after a while, it would get easier, and I'd be less anxious.  This is not the case.  I still keep close track of the heart rate every time we got to the doctor, and mentally note if it's in the "boy range" or "girl range."  For those who don't know, they say that heart rates under 140 are boy, and over 140 are girl.  So far, it's been about 75% girl heart rates, and the odd few boy heart rates.  Let's hope the final results are more conclusive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, back to my whining.  We spent the next hour or so wandering around the festival, watching the Native American performances, which were absolutely fantastic, and the girls got to have a pony ride.  After lunch, we went to my sister's house, where I promptly fell asleep on the couch.  Not too long after, my sister woke me so that we could make it to Mall of Georgia while our husbands watched football and the girls slept.  We had coupons to a three day sale at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gymboree&lt;/span&gt;...need I say more?  Hours later, we came home, and the husbands immediately fled to the nearest sports bar to watch the rest of the Georgia/Auburn game.  I laid down and didn't move, my feet swollen to grotesque proportions.  I thought about the tiny little ladies at Old Navy I had seen, shopping and looking fashionable and fresh.  I thought about how they probably had something wrong with them, like compulsive exercising habits, or stinky feet.  This made me feel better as I struggled to reach my itching left toe, which has suddenly become about 8 miles from my arm's reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, I'm exhausted.  I don't know if I can do these long weekend days anymore.  Tomorrow I might be doing lots of laying around.  Although we are still trying to finish the nursery...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4653847461591625750-6677720267153631136?l=atlantaparent6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/feeds/6677720267153631136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4653847461591625750&amp;postID=6677720267153631136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6677720267153631136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4653847461591625750/posts/default/6677720267153631136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atlantaparent6.blogspot.com/2007/11/pushing-it.html' title='Pushing it...'/><author><name>adriane</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
