10 posts tagged “jenna”

 

Dear Jenna - Happy Birthday baby.  You turned six years old today and I can hardly believe it.  My mom always told me the years would start to go by faster once I had children, but I still wasn't prepared for blinking my eyes and finding you so grown up, beautiful, smart, and lovely. 

I was truly blessed when you were born Mother's Day weekend six years ago.  I had no idea what motherhood was all about, but I was ready to get my on-the-job training from you.

At 6 weeks you got colic and we would sit and rock or stand and walk all over the house.  Crying together.  You cause you couldn't help it and me cause I couldn't help you. 

At three months you started to smile and sleep through the night.  I thought an angel had come in the middle of the night and swiped my little demon screamer for a cherub baby full of giggles and love. Now I still see the demon shoot from those eyes like daggers when you don't get your way... but mostly you are a sweet girl that wants to please everyone with your smile and witty personality.

Did you know your first word was at 4 months old?  I am not kidding.  You would point and say "DA" for dog everytime our dog Shiner walked into the room.  Barely holding your head steady, and already you were communicating with us.  By 6 months you had "Da da" "Mamamama" and "no" down.  By a year old you could say three word sentances.  People we met out in public were amazed by your big blue eyes and vocabulary. 

When I was 6 months pregnant with your brother, we would be waiting for a seat in the restaurant and you would introduce me to the other people in the waiting area.  "Hello, my name is Jenna.  My favorite color is red.  This is my Mommy, Miranda, she has my baby broda in her tummy.  She's not fat."  Everyone would giggle at you and ask how old you were, thinking her were just small for your age, as you had such maturity.  When I shrugged and said "She isn't quite two yet." .... well let's just say I think a few people thought I was lying.  And others were shocked into silence.  Some would look at their own child that was near the same age with a look that said "Why aren't you talking as good as her?" 

And you haven't shut up since.  You watch the television and tell me "Mom, I don't think this show is appropriate for Nate."  Or you will start a sentance with "Well Mom, TECHNICALLY, it's _____" fill in your very forthright opinion on said topic. 

Everyone at your school has nicknamed you Hannah Montana.  At first I thought it was because of your intense obsession with the fourteen year old.  But I am beginning to wonder if it isn't because you act a bit like you are fourteen already yourself.

You aren't only smart, you are athletic.  You were throwing a ball to us before you could sit up.  You are only six, but you have mastered roller skating, riding your new big girl bike, and two-wheel scooter (The Razor) and are the star in your danceclass.    I honestly don't think there is ANYTHING you couldn't do if you tried.  And I am not just saying that because I am your Mom.

One thing I love about you is your warm presence and superb manners.  You know all your classmates parents names and greet them everyday when they bring in and pick up thier children.  You say things like "It's nice to meet you", "May I have ____", "Please", "Thank you", "That means so much to me", "May I be excused?"....  all without prompting or reminding.  It makes me swell with pride to see your empathy and consideration for others... whether it's to make your brother laugh when he cries, or when you give me a big hug when I do.  Your heart is so open and loving to everyone you meet... I just pray no one ever takes advantage of that to the point you stop being that way.

And even as grown up as you are... you are still my baby.  I'll let you in on a secret...  as much as I fuss about you staying in your bed at night... I secretly love when you climb into bed with me and wrap your arm around me in the middle of the night.  Sometimes I wake up in my big lonely bed by myself and am kinda sad that you didn't come.  I know these days won't last forever, and I am trying to remember to cherish each and every cuddle.

When you are tired, sick or hurt and you come to me with your sad eyes, crying for "Mommy"... I am so blessed to be the person you always look for and need most.  Everyday I thank God for that feeling of joy and pride you give me.  I pray that he protects you and never lets you hurt anymore than you need to. 

Thank you for six amazing years being your Mommy, my sweet JennaBug.  Don't grow up too fast, as I am enjoying you so much right now.

Love,

Mommy

 

Thanks Grace for turning me onto this site for the video!

My first baby was born six years ago tomorrow.  I plan to write her a letter later today... so keep posted.  For now, enjoy the pictures in her honor.

Those of you with babies/toddlers now... realize how quickly it goes by and cherish each moment.

Those with grown children... don't remind me... I really do know.  Where is the pause button?

I want to get Jenna a dog for her birthday.  We live in a 1300 sq feet townhouse with a small backyard.  I have always been a "big dog" person.  Meaning I like Rotts, Labs, Goldens, German Shepards and the like.  That's what I grew up with.  Most little dogs I've met are unsociable (to everyone other than their owner), hyper and not very cuddly.

 

HOWEVER... we don't have room for a big dog.  Plus, I still travel every couple months and I think a smaller dog would be easier to find a sitter for (my parents would be the obvious choice, and I think my mom would actually enjoy a small dog around at times). 

So I have been looking at Beagles, Poodles, Chihuahas, Yorkies, and other small bread dogs.  Preferably ones that don't shed (like Yorkies and Poodles).  I really want a girl, so we can get a cute little pink collar, and maybe even one of those adorable bags like Paris carries her dog around in.  My daughter would eat that up.

I have been searching for some time and now I think I have it narrowed down to two dogs... Piper (a Sheltie/Dachshund Mix) that I shared a picture of in my Things on Tuesday post last week and this adorable Yorkie/Chi mix, named Pixie.  I am planning to meet both of them this week and make my decision based on their personality.

Piper is older and already potty-trained, but with the Sheltie in her, she is a bit bigger than I was looking for.  Pixie is simply adorable, but still a puppy, so a bit more work involved with getting her trained and such. 

I had an ex-boyfriend that had a Yorkie that I absolutely adored.  She was so sweet and not that hyper at all.  She was a bit of work to keep groomed, but I think that would be something fun for the kids to do with her... brush her each night. 

So all dog-lovers out there with some experience with these two breeds... give me some input.  I will probably mostly go with my gut feeling when I meet both of them, but I'd love any additional info anyone can provide about being a small-dog owner.

 

Six years ago I started the most rewarding journey of my life.  I was plagued with heartburn, very little sleep, and excessive water retention, but I was happier than I've ever been.

As I read through some of my nieghbors' blogs that are beginning this journey for the first time, all those memories came rushing back to me.  The excitement, the joy, the fear and worry, the physical discomfort, and the emotional highs and lows.  Each memory poignant and real. 

SIX years.  Wow.  I swear one moment I was nursing a new born and then I blinked my eyes and she's turning six years old, about to be in first grade and smarter than most 2nd graders I know.

For those soon-to-be new mom's out there, I thought I would tell my story.  How a young woman became a "Mommy".

I was 26 years old and only married a year.  We had gotten pregnant by accident just a few months after the wedding, and by the time we got use to the idea of being parents, I miscarried.  How do you mourn something you weren't sure you were even ready for?  Well I did.  I still do when I think of that unborn piece of me.

But that was the beginning of my journey.  We decided that we did indeed want to be parents.  I went off the pill and we decided to not "try"... but not "not try" either.  We kinda left it up to God.  Six months later, while my husband did a backyard project with a friend on Labor Day of 2001, I got the two pink lines on the pee stick.  When he came in from working hard outside all day, I laid the stick next to the beer I brought him while he cleaned up in the shower.  When he went to get a drink, he looked up at me beaming.  We hugged and kissed and jumped up and down. 

The next few months were so exciting, but full of change.  Every morning I'd throw up while trying to brush my teeth.  I had to sit down on the edge of the tub while I brushed my hair, because I was too exhausted and nausious to stand up and do it.  I came home each evening from a long day at work and laid on the couch useless.  Too tired to do anything but whine and complain about the changes in my body.

 

And I ate.  Good GOD I found a license to eat anything I wanted and I did.  I couldn't wait to get fat and wear maternity clothes.  I found a love for guacamole dip and midnight runs to Whataburger (you gotta live in Texas to understand).  I absorbed anything I could find on babies and being a mother.  Books, magazines, online message boards.  My entire life revolved around this little being growing inside of me.

I still remember the fun I had with the little electric gun at Babies R Us.  Deciding what little things we'd need to care for our child.  Scanning boppy pillows, burp rags, diapers, tiny little wash rags and towels, and all the onsies and feeties you could imagine.  Tiny things made me happy.  Soft cuddly things made me swoon.  Pastels were my new favorite colors. 

After the ultrasound technician said she was 80% sure we were having a girl... we immediately picked out a name and I started to wear pink more than I ever had in my life.  By the time I was six months pregnant the nursery was decorated, I was starting to have my first baby showers (I had FOUR total) and was filling up the closet and dresser with tiny pink things... many of them covered in ladybugs.  We started to nickname our sweet growing girl "JennaBug".  It stuck.

At 8 months I was so swollen, everything... my face, my ankles, my feet, my arms, my fingers... I had to buy a plain silver wedding band three sizes bigger because I refused to walk around fat and pregnant without a wedding band on my finger, but my gorgeous diamond set WOULD NOT go on my fingers anymore.  Even my shoes were size 8 and I normally wear a 6.5 or 7.  To say I was HUGE was an understatement.  The last few weeks I only had two pair of pants, one skirt and a half dozen shirts that still fit me.  There was no point in buying more maternity clothes, so I just did a lot of laundry and wore those few outfits bare thin.

And the bigger my belly got, the smaller my bladder shrank.  I do believe that God does this to us to prepare us for the constant up and down at night to feed a newborn.  Everyone was telling me to "rest up" cause I'd be losing tons of sleep once she was born.  But my bladder was more demanding at night than I could imagine a baby ever being.  And of course once I got up to go to the bathroom, my heartburn would keep me from laying back down and getting comfortable.  Sleep was quickly disappearing.

About 4 days before my due date, I was driving home and hit some terrible construction traffic.  While stuck going at a snails pace, I started to feel my first contractions.  Having seen enough reality shows about birthing on TLC, I was paniced that I was going to have to give birth to my child in the middle of the highway during Dallas rush hour.  Ha. 

Although the contractions were consistently 15 minutes apart for several hours, they started to slow down and I went to sleep that night convinced I'd go into full labor at any moment.  The next day the contractions stopped all together.  I was disappointed.  However my groin area felt like someone had set fire to it.  I could hardly sit still.  I had so much restless energy.  I frantically cleaned the house, I was more productive at work than I had been in months, I decided all the babies clothes HAD to be washed before I went to the hospital and I repacked my suitcase 3 times, certain I was forgetting something important.  I drove my husband completely crazy with my frenzy and anxiety.

Two days before my due date I woke up to 15 minute apart contractions again.  I figured they would go away like the ones a few days before, so I drove into work, it was my last day before my maternity leave began and I had a few things to wrap up.

By the time I got to work, they were 10 minutes a part.  I told my boss and a few co-workers, who were all paniced that I was still there and not headed to the hospital.  I had my final well-check at 10 am that morning, so I wasn't too worried.

When the doctor checked me a few hours later, I was indeed in labor, but not dialated at all.  I was 80% effaced.  They sent me home with some sleeping pills and told me to get some rest.  Once hard labor began to come back.  I went home, took the pills and went right to sleep.  At 10 pm I woke up in some discomfort.  I got in the bathtub to relax and time the contractions.  When they were 4 minutes apart for over 30 minutes I woke my husband to have him help me get dressed, as I was now breathing pretty hard and had to sit down with each contraction.

 

We packed the car up and drove the 30 minutes to the hospital.  I was in pain by this time.  Every fiber of my body hurt, but my adreniline was pumping too and I was beyond excited to be getting to meet my baby girl very soon.  And part of me was so relieved to soon have control of my body again. 

Once at the hospital the nurses silently chuckled at me and my load of belongings (suitcase for me, baby bag for Jenna, pillows and quilt from home, cd player with several relaxing cd's, and snacks for my husband so he wouldn't have any excuse to leave me.)  One of them said "Oh, so you are pretty sure you are in labor huh?  Well lets strap you up and make sure.  First babies don't come when you think they will."

I looked her right in the eye, having just went through a contraction and said "I am not going home.  You will take this baby out of me, or I will surgically remove her myself."  The nurse looked at me with wide eyes and showed me to a birthing room.  I sighed and smiled.

Unfortunately, once they strapped me up to all the monitors and such, my labor stalled again.  It was about 8:30 a.m.  I hadn't slept all night.  I hadn't eaten.  I was cranky.  The doctor came in around 11 am and said they were going to given me some pitocin to speed things along.  I was only dialated to 2 cm and not progressing, and Jenna's heartrate was slowing from all the stress.

At 2pm the nurse broke my water and I dialated immediately to a 4.  In came my savior.  The epidural-man, as I called him.  I still have a fondness for him to this day.  Within about three minutes of his miracle needle going into my back, I went from EXTREME BITCH to sweet and loving laboring mommy.  My friends came in to see me and chat with me.  I'd put my finger up every few minutes and say "please hold on, I am having a contraction."  I'd close my eyes, savor the pressure that included no pain and then smile up at whoever was talking to me and encourage them to continue.  It was very pleasant.

At 4:45pm the epidural wore off, while they were calling my favorite epidural man to bring me more, I dialated to 10 cm and they told me there was no time for more.  WTF?!?  No time for more drugs?  Wait, I can actually FEEL EVERYTHING down there right now.  That's not acceptable.  At 5pm the doctor put her two fingers on Jenna's crowning head and instructed me to not push, as she was still preparing everything for Jenna's arrival.  Um, yeah, tell a laboring woman with no drugs not to push... smart.  Every part of my body was trembling.  I was squeezing my mother's hand on one side and my husband's hand on the other.  I'd never wanted to do anything in my life as much as I wanted to PUSH at that very moment.  When she gave me the green light, I pushed with everything I had.

At 5:10pm, Jenna Alexandra came out tearing me as she did, because no one had time to give me the little snip of an episiotomy.  I screamed and then I cried and laughed cause it was over.  Jenna didn't make a sound.  My heart stopped and I paniced.  Why wasn't she crying?  I strained to see around the nurses and doctors to see her, but she was whooshed away to the little NICU bed they had waiting for her.  I was told she had sucked up some meconium from my water.  They had to suction everything so she could breathe.

What felt like a lifetime was probably only about 30 seconds, and then I heard the loudest wail of my life and someone handed the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen into my arms.  She stopped crying and looked right into my eyes.  I could feel her thinking "So you are my mommy.  It's so good to see you"  and it was sooooo good to see, and hold, and kiss, and hug her as well.  I'd never loved anyone like I loved her right at that moment.

 

 

 

 

My daughter saw a version of this SPCA commercial on TV this weekend.  She immediately burst into tears.  I am talking full-on sobbing here folks.  She knows about animal shelter and euthanasia of unwanted pets.  It literally breaks her heart to see the faces of these homeless animals, some abused and neglected. 

After a long talk about all of it and how she can help them, she has decided she wants to grow up and be a veterinarian someday.  I also told her that when she is older she can volunteer at the SPCA or local shelter to pet, play with and care for the animals there.  She brightened up at that idea.

I love that she is my daughter.  She's amazing.  And she's only 5 (nearly 6). 

 

 

 

I've decided it's impossible to get three people to look at the camera, smile and keep their eyes open all at the same time.  Especially when two of them are children.  Even if I have a tripod and a remote control.  Well I tried my best.  Ha.

Jenna brought home her second report card in her whole life.  I have always known the child was smart... she was talking at 6 months old... full sentances by her first birthday.  Knew all her colors, shapes and numbers by her 2nd birthday and alphabet by her 3rd.  She is spelling and writing so well.  Socially she's like a pre-teen in so many ways... very mature and socially outgoing and friendly.  I am really proud of her.  And it's great to see her grades reflect what I already know.

 

Show us a holiday memory.

 

 For this Vox Hunt I dug through 3 years of Shutterfly albums to find these pictures from happier days when the kids were really little and I was still married.  It's almost hard to look at these and realize that all the hopes and dreams I had back then have all been flushed down the proverbial toilet.  However, I got the best things out of these memories... my babies...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Per my holiday traditions blog a few days ago... we checked one off the list... Christmas Cookie Decorating.  My sisters didn't get involved this year, too busy with their lives these days... but the kids and my mom and I had a blast.  I love passing on a tradition like this to my kids. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's a GORGEOUS day here today... high 70's, not a cloud in the sky, a slight breeze... perfect driving weather.  As I was out to lunch, with the windows down, one of my favorite songs came on the radio... "In My Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride. 

The moment this CD came out my daughter was just a little baby and my mother and I would listen to that song and just get all teary-eyed over it because of our very close relationship and the fact I now had a

daughter of my own.  Now that daughter is five, and still very much a little girl, but the song speaks to me even more now.  In her eyes, I can see so much of myself - the same dreams and thoughts and emotions I remember feeling and experiencing at that age.

Also looking into her eyes, there are moments I can actually glimpse the young woman within.  Maybe it's her intuitive nature or the wisdom there beyond her years, but it is not hard for me to imagine the woman she will become someday.  Strong, fiercely independant, but sensitive and curious.

There are days when our stubborn natures come to a crossroads, and we just can't seem to have a pleasant conversation.  Sometimes I forget she is even my daughter, as in so many ways she has become one of my best friends.  She lifts me up when I am down, and sometimes is the one to put me in my place about something.  And I applaud her for her fearlessness and her tenacity.

When I see myself through her eyes, I want to be a better person.  NOT just a better MOTHER, but a better person.  A role model that she can look up to and follow with confidence.  As much as she infuriates me at times... she is the perfect piece of me that God created, and am blessed to have her in my life.