The Past Few Weeks...

...have been SO exciting for us! Ivymae is doing genius things, really. She now can say "Kitty" (to her stuffed kitty and to Grandma Jane's cats...we haven't tried it on Mr. Sparkle yet...) She puts up her finger and says, "Bob! Bob bob!" when she wants her bottle, and now says "Uppies!" when she wants to be picked up. (This is what Matt asks her when he goes to pick her up.)

Mommy spent the weekend in the Black Hills, and Ivymae had an AWESOME TIME with cousin Lauren last week, Grandpa Bill and Grandma Jane this weekend, and DADDY all day Monday and Tuesday!

Besides a constant stream of Ivy-speak, her new favorite thing is to stand up and turn off the cable box. We aren't sure how she figured out that particular button, since it's one of many and frankly, Mommy doesn't even know how to work the thing. The first time she did it, I said, "No!" She sat down hard and put her hands in her lap and gave me her best Baby Jesus routine, and that was the end of me. Now I let her do it all day. This child is getting NO discipline. :)

Pictures from Ivy in Mommy's old law school bag, and a few of Mommy and Matt at Mount Rushmore. Cause we're just patriotic like that.

Back to Basics

Watching Miss Punky travel her own way around the living room this morning, all the anxiety of the past few weeks seems kind of silly. This little cupcake is such a miracle...a year ago today she was kicking to get out, and now she's toddling around the living room. Ivy is so loved, it seems amazing some days that one little person could be so adored by so many people. I wish every little one was that loved. And Mommy is loved too! (She needs to relax a little bit, though...)

Yesterday Ivymae spent the day with Great-Grandma Zimm, her cousin Scotty, and her Grandpa Bill and Grandma Jane. What a fun day!
Daddy said that Ivy was "obsessed" with playing with the jacks ball, and loooooved her cousin Scotty, whom she met for the first time! :)

Um Ya Ya

Becky (Lenius) McKeever, Kate Kennedy, Laura Howting Geislinger, Miranda Wingerter Meunier, Megan Fatheree




Alex McKeever, Aidan McKeever, Emma Meunier, and Ivy Mae Kennedy-Schwartz


Well, from Fall of 1998 to Summer of 2009, this is where we are!

We all got together at Dan and Laura's house on Sunday for a BFCW reunion. We've grown up and apart over the years, but still have a loving, comforting way with each other that is so amazing, and I feel lucky to be part of it.

I especially love seeing my roommate, Becky...God couldn't have put together two more different people to share a tiny space, but Becky was such a wonderful, (patient) roommate...I miss her. We will have to get together soon.

Ivymae has had such a good weekend! Lots of chatting, walking, dancing. Lots of love.

Chompers: A Love Story

You know your love for your child is undying when you still feel fond of them after a hard day of teething.

I'm not gonna sugarcoat this: I hate teething. Not as much as poor Ivymae does, no doubt, but taking care of this child while teething is like being forced to do everything with your left hand. I feel incompetent, and I have a headache, and I can't pee or shower without a forlorn wail echoing through the halls of the house.

Her father, who is much more patient and mature than I, handles this much better. His patience is also extended towards me, for which I'm grateful. Yesterday, when I finally got into the shower at around 5:00, I started crying. I think mostly because I'm perhaps a tad more high-strung than the average bear, but also because I just felt so unhelpful and ineffective. There was nothing I could do to help her, and more than that, I didn't WANT to be around her. I felt like Annette Bening in that scene from American Beauty when she can't sell the house and she starts crying and slaps herself in the face, and says "Shut up, you baby!" I got dressed and picked her up and just rocked her, even though she was squirming and obviously in pain. She didn't want ice or her teether, so I just tried to snuggle her. Finally Michael got home and he took one look at me and said, "I'm guessing it's been a tough day, huh?" I was so relieved that he understood I almost started crying again.

He took her last night, and I went on a Date Night. Ivymae was up again from 1:30 to 3:30 with Daddy, so it's been rough for everyone. I comfort myself with the fact that when she's sixteen and crashes her (dad's) car, we'll think fondly back on the days when she was only teething!

This morning I gave her some Ibuprofen befor breakfast, which Michael thought of last night. (Why must he be so much SMARTER??? MAN, that guy is good.) she's been playing and pulling herself up and rolling around in the living room, and it's been nothing but heaven.

I think I need to get simple when I'm feeling overwhelmed. Just forget about all the other stuff I need to do, and just sit with her. I mean...nothing else is really that important, right? She's lovely and amazing, and being such a trooper...much moresoe than Mommy. :)

Tomorrow we head to Ames overnight for my cousin's wedding. Ivymae will get to see a lot of family! Most importantly, Grammi!!!!

Ivy is an angel. I have decided this after much thought. She is teaching me patience, kindness, priorities, and self-love. I doubt she is aware of this, but along with being an angel, she is also a genius, so anything is possible.

This girl is CA-RAAAAZY about her Daddy. As soon as he walks into the room, her face lights up. You can almost hear her Inner Monologue saying, "Get this old broad outta here, my MAN is home!" They talk to each other in Daddy And Ivy Language, and I don't understand a word of it. I can't even conjugate its form of "to be." Granted, we have our own language as well, so it's all good.

Apparently, her love of the bath does not translate into her love of water in general. Michael turned on the sprinklers today and there was immediate Pouty Face...not fear or panic, just, "I don't LIKE that thing!" I wonder if it just LOOKS weird to her for some reason.

Well, a cake has been decided upon. It is a chocolate cake, and we're having homemade frosting! Don't get too excited, partygoers. It will probably be an inch high and taste like a bath mat. I ain't no Becky Home-ecky.

Michael went out to get DQ, for old times' sake, i.e. when I was preggo. As long as we're all nostalgic, I should have asked for 3-cheese kettle chips and pear juice from Byerly's. And a Crispy Chicken Super-Size meal. HOLLA!!!

Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Very Bad Mommy

That's me today.

It started at 7:00 with a wake up. We always nurse first thing in the morning. This morning Ivymae decided that because her teeth hurt (poor buddy!) that boobs were for chewing. Half-asleep, I yelled, "OUCH!" which of course startled her, and she started to cry. Great. Now I'm that mom who yells at her kids for no reason.

Her teeth ache so much, poor little tiny! She's biting down on everything she can get in there, but we really like our little mesh bag that we can put an ice cube in. It doesn't feel better for very long, though. There is a lot of bucking and head butting.

It's before 11, and I'm not sure what to do anymore. She doesn't want to be held, or play, or read, so we'll try going down to sleep.


I'm giggling to myself now about how dazed I am when she falls asleep. It's like I finally have a chunk of time to do something productive, but I'm too glazed over to do it. I just got done staring off into space and eating toast which I realized half way through had nothing on it. But it's Michael's "Men's Health" bread, which I'm sure is chock-full of testosterone. So I'll probably have some 'roid rage later.

I'm also contemplating making a cake for Ivymae's Big Day. There are some pros to this: a homemade cake is much better than one with that buttercream frosting. It is probably cheaper. I can make a cake with no animal ingredients in it, (which I realize isn't a "pro" for everyone else) and it will be fresher. The main "con" here would be that my baking projects are usually EPIC FAILURES. And cakes are delicate...you can't just throw whatever you want together, which is how my entire life operates. But now I feel like it's a challenge, like my mothering skills are somehow being called on the carpet here by myself, and to succumb to the bakery cake would be a gigantic Puss Out.

You wanna GO, Donna Reed? What now, Betty Crocker? Who's bad???

Where's the owner's manual for this thing?

I discovered this week one of the zillion reasons motherhood makes me insane. It's taken me a while...I mean, what's so hard about taking care of a protohuman all day? She doesn't get mouthy, she doesn't steal the car keys, she doesn't tell me she is SO OUT OF HERE when she turns 18.

She whines.

Constantly.

No no, don't defend her. She is absolutely insufferable. Geniuses are often tyrannical.

I love nothing more than just BEING with this child. She climbs on me, sometimes takes a break and just nurses sort of languidly, patting the top of my breast with her little hand as if to indicate this is good shit, Mom. Then she kind of rolls around, or pulls herself up by her miraculously strong legs. She likes to dance when she does this...a bit of the old soft shoe, you know. The girl would have made a killing in Vaudeville.

But you know...sometimes I have to do other things. Like brush my teeth. Or put on a bra. Pants are also useful. Not only that, but she seems to enjoy clean diapers, so I wash those once in a while too. Also, the aftermath of her meals makes the kitchen look like it's been through guerilla warfare, so I it's nice to have that cleaned up as well.

Whenever I make a move to do one of the myriad of chores necessary to keep the house from looking like we're just squatters here until the landlord catches us, she tends to become very VERY vocal about my OBVIOUS lack of priorities. I set her down, scurry off to throw some diapers in the wash,and she screams so dramatically you'd think I'd just thrown her down the steps of the cellar to the rats. I rush back to jounce her or dance to Beyonce, then scurry off again to wipe now-brown bananas off the floor, more of the same. I rush back to change her...the cycle continues. I have dubbed it, "The Mamarama."

I related this to her father, who generally regards me with a gentle smile and nod as if to keep my various personalities at bay, and he shifted his weight for a moment, cleared his throat, and said softly, "Um...have you thought of maybe putting her in the Pack and Play with some of her pals while you do other things?" I think I literally slapped my forehead with my palm. That's why he's the brains in this outfit, and I'm the boobs.

So I've been doing that this week, with good results. She sometimes moos a little, but then realizes she has lots of pals in that Pack n Play. Piglet and Giant Bunny are good for a laugh, for sure. She looks up at me now from inside the white mesh netting as if to say, "Mom, SERIOUSLY. These guys are HILARIOUS!"

I've decided not to feel guilty about gleefully singing the old Smashing Pumpkins hit from my fast-fading youth when she's in there:

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage!

There's just something wildly amusing to me about singing about this googly-eyed bundle of snuggles like she's an angsty teenager locked in her room.

The girl is a genius though, no fakes. Just in time for the Big Birthday, she's holding up "Number 1!" She knows what's up. I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, and she said, "Oh Mommy, just being with you every day is a gift!" I'm pretty sure that's what she said. It was while she was being changed, and sounded a lot like, "Baba doo, baba doo!"

I've been trying to make a mix CD for everyone at her birthday party, with all kinds of fun songs on it that remind me of Miss Ivy Mae. I had to pause today when Matt pointed out, "Um...this one might be kind of vulgar for a mix of songs inspired by a one-year-old for her grandparents." Oy.