Aunt Amber Said

Sleep training. Ugh.

Let's recap. I suffer with other people's children daily. I force them to learn through tears, screams, kicks, bites and mountains of developmental disabilities. And it doesn't phase me. I walk out the door and smile feeling good about the chaos I created and ended in an hour's time. In fact in my office I'm well loved and hated for being strict and firm. Hard core.

Enter motherhood and an infant that refuses to sleep through the night. Oh trust me I know why. I co-slept for during her first few months, especially when her dad was in Africa and Pippa and I were traveling across the West. Then we came home and moved into a new house, took a little road trip, I started school and BOOM! I was a zombie sloppily wiping sleep from my eyes and drool from my text books.

In a not so rare fit of self pity, I called my sister Amber and asked about her baby who is a two months older than Pippa. He's sleeping soundly through the night. Pippa was waking up every 30-45 minutes and wanted to be fed and held for nearly an hour. And that's when Aunt Amber said the awful obvious truth: Pippa needed sleep training. So we cried it out, for two hours at a time that first night. Every time Pippa took a breath and wound up for another shriek, I just looked her in the eye and told her to sleep "because Aunt Amber said so."

Yep, strict and firm.

Reunited

School has officially started for me, which means summer has officially ended. And in some ways I'm glad. Pippa was too young to wear sunblock, and the humidity out here negates the shade, so we spent most our time indoors anyway. We also fit in two family reunions, one built around my brother's wedding and the other built around a NASCAR detour. Both extraneous events ended with tired eyes and huge smiles and to prove the success of our relations with our loved ones, I'll post some photos.

(Disclaimer: We constantly loose and misplace our cameras. Even when we've packed them in our pockets for the event. So we don't always have pictures of everyone we'd like to. Blame it on bad planning.)

Swimming in the river, a daily occurrence in Arkansas.

Who knew there was great shopping in Mena? These girls.

The non-photo bombed edition. I was in big trouble for ruining the family portrait...

Pippa's blessing the day after Travis and Jessica were married.

Those under 10 nearly outnumber the rest of us!

The Skipper's crew for Pippa watching.

Infamous group hug.

Sister photo. Did I mention we all had babies over the year?

Yai Yai and Papou

Vrrroom vrrooom

"Engines pumping and thumping in time. The green light flashes, the flags go up. Churning and burning they yern for the cup...she's racing and pacing and plotting the course...she's going the distance. She's going for speed."

Loop that for the five and half hour drive from Mena to Dallas and the three hours needed to dry the wet track and you have the pep talk Skip gave me before turning me loose on the Texas Motor Speedways track. Skip gave me the ultimate anniversary gift--his VIP pass to the Tony Stewart Smoke Show. AWESOME!

Doug, my nemesis.

We were the esteemed guests of Doug Turnbull, a creative physics gun genius who made Skip's beloved Big Medicine. You know, the gun he sleeps with while I care for Pippa. And I had no idea what I was in for. Here are some facts:

Skip talked me up and trash talked with the other contestants.

I am a sleep deprived woman and my infant sleeps poorly in new places.

I drive slow when tired...real s l o w.

Skip has driven the speed I hit on my first 10 laps, on a twisty volcanic road.

I now own a firesuit, driving shoes, and Smoke Show helmet.

Skip is jealous.

Hello.

Yeah, those first 10 laps were unexpected. Even after the driving school. It's hard to tell your mind not to stay in the lines and that you want to head straight at the wall 25 feet away while driving 115 mph. That's why I only drove 115 mph for the first session. And I was lapped. By Doug. Twice. Oh the shame.

Then I rode shotgun with Tony Stewart. I was giggling and happy for the first straightway. Once we hit the curve a weird lack of oxygen happened and I start coughing up phlegm. Imagine the free fall ride at an amusement park. This is cooler.

Pippa's a little upset she couldn't ride with me.
I'm the blurr back there. 

For my second round of driving I had a clear vision of what to do. Doug had coached me on the turns and when to accelerate (they have specific rules). Skip told me to punch the gas pedal, "Make the instructor tell you to slow down." It worked. I maxed out at 150 (they have governors, insurance policy). And it's much easier to drive into the wall at that speed ;)

Fan Club!

All the girls gave Skip 'Father of the Year'. And Pippa charmed everyone, even Tony found an excuse to play with her.

Men look at your lady. Now look back at me, in the Old Spice car.

Yummy!

Pippa has inspired me and we will be visiting the Ice Cream Shack in our old 'hood. I expect to answer many questions on our absence over the last week (family reunion in AR and a chance to race Doug Turnbull and the Texas Motor Speedways). But, hey, when you've got NASCARS to race, you can't be contained in Sunnyland.

Baby Ink

We moved. To a large house with a basement (tornado watch) and a Pippa play room (parent approved). Our new house came right out of the 80s, but was actually built in the 60s and wouldn't you know it already feels like home among our many piles of boxes. And yes, mothers, our 5 month old has not transitioned well. Do you know how well you sleep with three people in a double bed?

With the move I misplaced our cameras. I wanted to show off our new place, more specifically the large tropical flowers in our yard. Remember this because later, when I find the cameras and post the pictures, I will let you all believe I live in paradise.

So here we are with our boxes, completely disheveled new mom stressed about a life-altering test coming her way this September and Skip decides to give our couch and towels a makeover. Plus Pippa gets her first tattoo. This is not a joke people. I have scrubbed her good, with a variety of baby-safe techniques and she's sporting three black ink marks. Maybe it's a good thing I can't find the cameras (all four!) because there are some things a child should not be privy to.

It went down something like this:

Skip to me: "What did YOU do to our beautiful daughter?! What is that black streak on her leg?"

Me: "........huh?.....what?.....was I snoring?.... what did you do?...."

Skip: "Look at this. What is it?"

Me (totally concerned): "It's too dark. What did YOU do to our daughter?"

Skip completely offended that I would ever blame him for anything so ridiculous. "No really what is that? When did she get it?"

Me: "What are you talking about?"

I left the comfort of my green chair knowing full well that this must be a ploy for Skip to steal the prized seat. Nope. Pippa had a black streak on her thigh. And her arm, her calf and many a scuff on her white outfit. Any mother's nightmare. It didn't come off easily, and two hours and a bath later it had only faded.

Somehow Skip's black shirt worn for motorcycle purposes had evolved to permanent marker. A mixture of deodorant, sun, fumes and sweat created an ink pool on his side, leaked onto his backpack and marked up anything he came in contact with. If I can prove it's non-toxic and safe, we may have stumbled onto a henna-like substance. Otherwise I just proved child endangerment.

Christmas in July

You know what happens when you are a mom and a toy store has a retirement clearance sale? You stock up on Christmas gifts. Or if you are addle-minded and sleep deprived (read Breanna), you buy age-inappropriate gifts that you'll need to store for a couple years (in addition to cutting your own bangs and experimenting with caffeine--it does indeed affect Pippa). Planning ahead. A skill yet to be mastered.

Mermaid

We celebrated a 4 month birthday today :) And since we were thrilled that neither of us have dropped, burned, stepped on or elbowed Pippa, we decided the only thing to do was to try our hand at failing to submerge her in chlorinated water.

She loved the water and splashed about a bit. The photos below document the experience well. So for the word nerds here is a short story that sums up her emerging personality.

Even though Skip and I did all the work when we went swimming I expected Pippa to be worn out. I recently implemented a 9 p.m. bedtime and have loved the routine. As nine came and went I threw my hands in the air despairingly.

"We must get some ice cream from the shack on the corner," cried my bone-weary self.

As much as I welcomed sleep, Pippa fought it and only a chocolate-covered cherry frozen treat could console me. I later regretted this decision for many reasons, one that I screwed up my bedtime routine. That five minute trip cost me an extra hour of bouncing, rocking, rubbing, swinging and singing. In a dark room, on a dark bed I cuddle Pippa and struggled to find one more lullaby. When my memory failed me I launched into the eleventh round of "You are my sunshine..."By then it seemed Pippa's kicking and arm flailing beat in time with my broken record.

I stopped singing because my throat hurt from the soft tone I was using and because it wasn't working. I took a couple deep breaths and told Pippa that when she was older, she'd wished she'd had this extra hour of sleep. Then I dramatically threw my arm over my eyes. I felt a final move to my left then silence. I lifted one eyelid and swallowed a giggle. Pippa had thrown her arm over her eyes in mirror to me and promptly fell asleep. Stubborn but smart. I think she just might live another month.