To see a bear in your dream symbolizes independence, the cycle of life, death and renewal, and resurrection. You are undergoing a period of introspection and thinking. The dream may also be a pun on “bare”. Perhaps you need to bare your soul and let everything out into the open.

To dream that you are being pursued or attacked by a bear denotes aggression, overwhelming obstacles, and competition. You may find yourself in a threatening situation.

Birth story will happen at some point once we are all at home. I was discharged less than 24 hours postpartum because Halsey was transferred to a Level 2 NICU. Clearly (neither) scheduled induction went well.

Now it is time for rest though, because I’ve only managed 7 hours of sleep in the last 4+ days. Tonight though I am thankful that Derek has so willingly and lovingly taken up residence at the hospital so I could come home and get some much needed rest. This whole experience went from Bad to Truly Awful to holy-shit-can-it-really-get-much-worse. The answer I suppose is in the affirmative but let’s just ignore that for the time being.

At any rate, he’s here and he is amazing.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, y’all.

You will not see me waving a white flag on this one. I’m much stronger than that.

Besides, it’s always a little fun to prove the masses wrong.

Time has a way of demonstrating that the most stubborn are the most intelligent.

- Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Every time I think I reach my limit as far as physical pain is concerned, it goes on to surprise me. It’s like magic. Horrible, agonizing magic.
Chronic pain changes the way you interact with people; your limits get shorter, your exhaustion goes up, you are always at the end of your fuse and running on empty. If I was always the person I am when I’m in pain, I would be alone the rest of my life, and that scares the shit out of me. I fear that one day I’ll become so afraid of taking my medications that I’ll take far less than I need to get by – or none at all – and I will drive everyone away. I don’t know that it’s possible to describe it to someone who has not experienced it…constant pain can turn a kind, sympathetic and patient person into goddamn sociopath. Existing while in pain requires considerable mental strength, so emotional upset generally increases pain levels.

Taken from Heather (aka Babyslime) here.

I’ve not been very interested in writing recently, largely due to the amount of physical pain I’ve been in (for months now). At this point, the pubic symphysis pain is the least painful out of all of the ailments I’m enduring. That said, I’ve learned (and relearned) a few lessons taken from previous pregnancies:

• Bronchitis always sucks, but it sucks even harder if you are so pregnant that you’ve got feet or a head jammed into the bottom of your rib cage. If the coughing doesn’t wind you, then the contractions caused by coughing will surely make you wish you were dead.
• Mild to moderate edema (swelling) is perfectly normal during pregnancy, especially as you get closer to your due date. Severe edema (where you literally gain approximately 10 pounds every week) is just wrong. I’ve never weighed this much (even at my heaviest!). I’m easily carrying around about 40 extra pounds of fluid and it is killing the joints in my hips, legs, feet, and back. Because every inch of my body is so swollen, it has also made me lose about 90% of the functionality in my right hand/arm. I can’t write for longer than a few seconds at a time before the bending of my fingers causes this shooting pain that radiates up my arm into my elbow. My fingers and hands on both sides constantly have a pins and needles feeling in them and that alone just sucks balls.
• Just because you are horribly disfigured from swelling and weight gain doesn’t mean that your libido magically goes away. This sucks because OBVIOUSLY.
• People are assholes and can be rude as shit, even if they aren’t intentionally trying to be rude as shit. Whenever I’m out in public, it never fails that at least once someone will ask me when I’m due. As soon as I respond it never fails that their follow up question is whether I’m carrying twins. I’ve given up being polite in my response and about a month ago started being honest in answering that this pregnancy started out that way. This usually makes the person asking uncomfortable enough to stop and walk away. The other night though as I was hobbling around the grocery, a well-intentioned gal (I’m sure) asked me if I was carrying twins and my knee-jerk reaction to the question was to simply state that it was incredibly rude to ask a complete stranger such a personal question. I clearly made her feel ashamed for asking and I almost felt badly about it, but come on. I mean, I get it. I’m fucking huge. I could easily pass for carrying triplets at this point. But does that give anyone the right to ask such a thing? It’s just effing rude.

I’ve tried my best not to complain about it all, especially because there’s an end in sight. I just have to make it through a few more weeks and it’ll all be over. Heck, I may not even have to wait that long if the contractions I’ve been having for the last few days are any indication. My next appointment is tomorrow morning and I’m sure my OBGYN will check for any effacement and/or dilation while he’s poking around down there doing my Group B Strep test. With any luck he’ll tell me I’m already in labour and we can go ahead and get this show on the road.

Look, asshole. I’m not exactly sure why you’ve decided to make your presence known around these parts again, but I would just like to make one thing very clear. You, under no circumstances, are absolutely and unequivocally not welcome here. You are nothing but vile, wretched, and deceitful and I have no use or room for such nonsense. I hate the way you have so easily crept back in to my life and I hate even more how easily you linger, long after I have acknowledged your most unwelcome company.

The thing is, it always seems as though you afford no effort in worming your way back… So why is it so difficult to get rid of you? You are a virus for which there is no cure. Try as I might, all efforts to inoculate myself against your existence have clearly been futile. I am always left puzzled at how you manage to keep coming back. One would think at some point that I’d have learned how to recognize the symptoms of your return. It never fails to amaze me at how adept you are at lurking in the shadows, never truly making yourself known until I am falling apart at the seams and furiously trying to knit myself whole again.

I suppose that the lesson here is knowing how to handle myself when you’ve (once again) successfully infiltrated my life. I’m here to tell you though that I will not tolerate your occupancy and I am actively doing everything I can to rid myself of your poison. I hate you and I hate everything you are capable of. And from this moment forward, I will no longer let you feed off of everything that I have worked so hard to cultivate. This time I will not give you the power to ruin any aspect of my life. You will never ever be worthy of any more of my time.

In short, you can go fuck yourself.

Kisses!

– Julie

On the morning of May 12, 2011, I took my two eldest children to school, just like any other school day. I dropped my son (then aged 9) off first, because he was (is) still in primary school. Afterwards, I drove my daughter (aged 12) to middle school. After dropping two of my children off at their respective schools, I would have normally been on my way into the office but because I was on short-term disability at that time, instead I started to make my way back home. If you are curious as to why I was taking a paid leave of absence from work, it was because on May 12, 2011 I was officially 38 weeks pregnant. Now, I know it’s not all that uncommon for someone that far along to have already started maternity leave, but you see during that particular pregnancy (technically with all but the first of my pregnancies) I suffer from what is known as pubic symphysis diastasis.

If you’ve never experienced this condition before, let me try and describe it to you. Once I reach about 20 weeks in pregnancy, I suffer through Every. Single. Waking. Moment. with what feels like an ax wedged squarely in the middle of my pubic bone. As you can probably imagine, I was greatly looking forward to returning home so that I could crawl (literally!) back into bed to try and sleep my way through at least part of the day. Unfortunately, because of what happened next, I didn’t get the opportunity to realize any kind of respite from the physical agony I had been for months by that point. In addition to being prevented from any kind of anticipated sleep-induced time away from the severe pain I courted as a constant companion, that mid-May morning I was also forced to endure one of the worst thoughts that I, an expectant mother, could ever possibly have to consider — whether or not the baby growing inside of me was dead or alive. All because one of the motorists you insure was in such an obvious hurry that morning that she didn’t bother to stop (or even slow down) before she rear ended me while I was completely stopped at a yield sign in order to let oncoming traffic pass through the intersection.

If you’ve ever experienced the joy of preparing for your own flesh and blood to enter the world (as either a mother or a father), I’m confident that you’ll be able to empathize with me when I say that within a matter of nanoseconds I was terrified, shaking violently and uncontrollably due to the flood of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had never been involved in an automobile accident (and I’d certainly never been in an accident while being 38 weeks pregnant). I knew immediately that I had been hurt, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t focused on myself. Instead, I was overwhelmingly sick, consumed with unrelenting worry and absolute distress at the thought of the baby girl in my womb being injured. I was in a state of shock and sheer panic and all I wanted to do was finish my journey home so I could ask my (then) fiance to drive me to the hospital. Nothing mattered to me more at that moment than to ensure my baby wasn’t hurt or worse.

Bordering on hysteria, I called my future husband who (thankfully) arrived on the scene within minutes. I was too afraid to even get out of my vehicle so he attempted to take charge of the situation by speaking with the woman who hit me. He provided her with our contact details and insurance information and in turn, requested the same from the driver you insure. I was so afraid that we were wasting time. Valuable time that would have been better spent getting checked out at the hospital. However, to add insult to injury, the motorist you insure refused to give any of her insurance information. Instead, she decided to call her husband (rather than you, USAA) so we ended up having to call 911 in order to have a police officer arrive on the scene to collect the details. Here I was, completely freaked out and then had to wait even longer because the driver that you insure flat out refused to provide her policy information.

After what felt like forever, the officer arrived on the scene and completed the accident report and only then were we free to leave so that I could FINALLY HEAD TO THE HOSPITAL. But the worst was left to come. I made it to the hospital and proceeded to be evaluated. The wonderful nurses and doctors treating me requested that an ER doctor come up to L&D so that the excruciating pain in my neck could be evaluated. After physically examining me, he advised that the only way they’d be able to truly understand the scope of my injuries was if I had x-rays done. Clearly, being 38 weeks pregnant and still waiting on the news as to whether my baby was OK, I refused the ER doctor’s offer. As I waited hour after hour in the Labour and Delivery ward of the hospital, all I could do was sit there and cry. My mind kept going back to the worst-case scenario I was facing. The thought of my baby girl, who only had a few short weeks to continue growing and developing, potentially dying inside of me was beyond brutal. We spent all day in the hospital but were finally given the news we wanted to hear. The baby was uninjured, and we were medically cleared for discharge. I couldn’t have been more relieved. Even though I was still in an incredible amount of pain (and was obviously NOT prescribed any type of pain medication because of the pregnancy), I was more than willing to suffer through however long it took for my body to heal. So, I waited, and exactly 2 weeks and 1 day later, or baby girl was born, healthy and beautiful. I hope this isn’t too much information, but I think it’s important to note that I delivered her without the assistance of an epidural. I feel like this is important to point out because in pushing a baby out of my vagina, not only was the lower half of my body doing a bunch of work (obviously), but putting my chin to my chest was no easy feat. All because of the car accident that your insured motorist caused.

Following the momentous birth of our daughter, we were discharged about a day and a half later. Yes, the pain in my neck (literally) was still bothering me; however, the pain in my underwear place was my primary focus. Clearly I still had a lot of healing to do. Weeks went by and I felt as though my body was getting better. On my own I decided that perhaps a better pillow would solve the issues I was still experiencing with my neck. I tried several pillows, each more expensive than the last and finally in mid-August found one that helped at least a little. I have to say that I’m a little proud of my high tolerance to pain (hello? giving birth without an epidural?) and with so much going on within our household (e.g., me resigning from work in order to stay home with the baby, me and the two eldest children returning to school full time, taking care of a newborn who was Baby #4 for us) I simply could not justify spending the time or the money to see a doctor about the issues with my neck. Oh, and on top of ALL of that, in mid-August, we found out that we were expecting Baby #5. My fate was sealed at that point. I simply felt as though I had no choice but to live with my injury, because I knew that the first thing any doctor was going to want was an x-ray. (If you’re interested in why I am so adamantly opposed to x-rays in pregnancy, it was because of a miscarriage I suffered many years ago while I was 10 weeks pregnant after I had sprained an ankle and subsequently had x-rays done to confirm there was no fracture.) I’ll never know if there was any correlation between the two, but since then I’ve been strongly against having any kind of x-rays done while pregnant.

By mid-September though, I couldn’t take it any more. I finally made the decision to seek treatment for my injuries. This was no easy decision, partly because I felt guilty for taking any time away from my everyday responsibilities (you know, the full-time mom, full-time student, full-time wife gig). The other reason it took me so long to finally do something about my pain is because from May 12, 2011, (the date your insured driver hit me), I (and MY insurance company) paid for almost EVERYTHING out of pocket. Yes, that means that I paid my required co-pays and MY insurance footed the rest of the bill for:

• The trip to L&D, including:

1. Each physician’s charge for seeing me.
2. The ultrasound performed that my insurance didn’t cover AT ALL (because they deemed it “experimental” – a rant for another time).
3. The rental car I needed while my vehicle was being repaired (because it’s not like I could just be without a car since I was full term and could have given birth at any time).

As you can see, seeking treatment wasn’t as simple as just finding a doctor. I knew upfront that I was going to have to pay for it all (“it” of course being any type of treatment I could find that would provide even a tiny measure of relief), and that my insurance would (again) cover the rest of the costs.

Since I had already provided proof of the above costs (on August 30, 2011), the USAA claims adjuster offered me a lump-sum payment of $3,500. He explained that this would cover the reimbursement owed to my insurance company, as well as reimbursement for the money I had paid out of pocket. This lump-sum payment also included some money to account for any “pain and distress” caused by the accident. During that phone call (in mid-September if memory serves correctly), I politely explained to him that I would consider USAA’s offer but that there were going to be additional bills because I had decided to go ahead and seek treatment for my injuries. He indicated that because there were going to be additional bills, that I should wait until treatment had concluded so that I could submit these additional expenses to be included in the lump-sum payment from your company.

I decided to make an appointment with my primary care physician because I figured that would be an appropriate way to begin this process. Unfortunately, my physician said he couldn’t treat me, because I was currently pregnant and therefore wasn’t comfortable with ordering x-rays or prescribing pain medication. In the midst of attempting to discover another route for treatment, I was forced to take a few trips to urgent care on a couple of nights when the pain was so terrible that I didn’t want to continue living. The urgent care doctors prescribed several pain medications and referred me to a neurologist, telling me that because the pain was so bad I really should consider just sucking it up and have an MRI done to see what the root of the problem was. Because I had indicated that the reason for my visit was due to being involved in a car accident, my urgent care office refused to bill my insurance company since the accident was the fault of your motorist. So, I got to pay for all of that out of my own pocket. In desperation, I called my OBGYN to get some advice on what to do next. She advised me to follow the recommendation of the urgent care physicians and see a neurologist, but that when I did, that I could only have an MRI done (no x-rays or CT scan), if and only if my abdomen was double shielded.

The neurologist that I was finally able to see in mid-November (apparently all of the San Antonio area neurologists that accepted my insurance have considerable waiting lists for new patients) refused to do an MRI (or anything else for that matter) because even if an MRI confirmed a ruptured or slipped disc in my cervical spine, there wasn’t going to be anything he could do about it because I was pregnant. He did prescribe some muscle relaxers though that were safe to take while pregnant. Unfortunately, it was a fruitless endeavor in getting that prescription filled (again, something I had to pay for out of pocket!) because they didn’t help at all.

After waiting for WEEKS (in constant pain) to even see the neurologist (all the while living with profound anxiety because I had been conditioned to believe that x-rays and an MRI was going to be an absolute requirement in order to obtain treatment), I felt ultimately defeated. I didn’t know what else to do. I had almost resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to have to live with the issues in my neck.

One of the best decisions I made throughout this entire ordeal was finally looking into “alternative” types of treatment. It took some time and work, but by mid-October I finally found a wonderful chiropractor who agreed to treat me. I was thrilled when she recommended an aggressive treatment plan that included ultrasound therapy, massage therapy, physical therapy, and adjustments to my cervical spine. Relief didn’t happen overnight. In fact, it took 3-4 visits each WEEK for a full month before I started to feel normal again. In the beginning, I had my doubts about how effective a chiropractor was even going to be. Especially because each and every visit cost me a $35 copay (again, with MY insurance footing the remainder of the bill). Slowly but surely though, I was finally getting better.

Out of the blue, a day or two before Christmas, I received a phone call from the claims adjuster. I wasn’t able to call him back until 2 days ago (in part because of the holidays and also because a week and a half ago we moved our entire household over 100 miles away from the San Antonio area). I’m not entirely sure he was looking at the correct claim because he seemed way too enthusiastic when he exclaimed that USAA was prepared to offer me a lump-sum settlement payment of $1,200. He then prattled on about how this amount was to reimburse what my insurance company had spent, and would also cover all of my out of pocket expenses, and included some additional money to cover “pain and distress.”

I attempted to stop him in order to clarify why the settlement amount was over $2,000 less than the original amount offered. I received no explanation. I attempted to explain that in addition to the expenses and bills he had received
from me previously that I had more that I would be submitting. I was told that any time there was lapse in time between the date of injury and treatment that this “raises a red flag” and that I would have to get a letter from my doctor that explains why so much time passed between the two events. When I attempted to remind him that the reason I didn’t get immediate treatment was due to the fact that I couldn’t BECAUSE A DRIVER YOU INSURE HIT ME ON THE DAY I OFFICIALLY STARTED THE 38TH WEEK OF PREGNANCY he only stated that my claim would have to be “carefully evaluated” because USAA generally won’t cover expenses for treatment that extend as long as mine have. Then, he explained that not only would I need to provide all EOBs from my insurance company that pertain to medical attention received due to the accident but that I would also need a letter from my doctor explaining why there had been such a gap in treatment. When I asked him which doctor this letter would need to be from, he finally indicated that it should be from my chiropractor. He then said that he would follow up with me in “about a month” to see where I was in gathering all of this documentation. I decided to leave it at that and let him know that I would print and scan every single EOB and I also let him know that I would call the chiropractor in an attempt to get such a letter. 48 hours later, I have the EOBs requested. However, in speaking with my chiropractor’s office, the receptionist stated that the chiropractor was on vacation until next week but that it wasn’t likely that she was going to be able to produce such a letter because ultimately, the chiropractor would not be able to fully explain this whole ordeal since I only started seeing her in mid-October. It would be too much of a “liability” she explained.

And truthfully, I understand the logic. For my chiro to try and explain this whole ordeal would be impossible. Hell, it’s taken me a few days now to finish this “letter” myself. So here we are. I’ll have everything scanned in as soon as we finish unpacking so that I can get my scanner hooked up. When I submit all of the EOBs, I’ll also be sure to include a copy of this letter. And then, I’ll give USAA a reasonable time to evaluate all of the information. But be forewarned that if each and every expense my insurance company has paid, and each and every expense that I have paid, along with a reasonable amount for “pain and distress” isn’t included in the next settlement amount you have to offer, you’ll be hearing from a personal representative on behalf. I will not sit idly by and continue to be insulted.

Sincerely,

– Julie

Despite everything, I was thinking the other day about how glad I was that things have happened as they have.

I would hate to have spent the rest of my life wondering what could have been and thinking of you as the one who got away.

I love you Derek Marshall Dukes. ♥

Good thing I updated my status to [Hasbian].

When we arrived at Sumo San Antonio, we were warmly greeted by the hostess and were seated at a table with a younger couple. They didn’t seem to mind at all that we were there with 3 of our children (ages 12, 10, and 4 months). It wasn’t too long before our server (Zachary) came to take our drink orders. He asked upfront if any of use were using any coupons and as it turns out, the couple seated at our table was also redeeming a Groupon voucher. It took a little while for our drinks to arrive. I ordered a Dr. Pepper, the two eldest children ordered root beer, and future husband ordered a pint of Sapporo. After our drinks arrived, our server took our order. I decided on the steak and chicken combo, future husband got the steak and shrimp, the boy child didn’t want anything from the grill and opted for a salmon (sushi) roll, and girl child ordered the kid’s terriyaki chicken. Dinner was pretty typical. Our chef was this Peruvian gal who interacted with all of us in a lighthearted and charming way. The kids really enjoyed her but since I’ve been to places like this before, I wasn’t completely blown away. Still, the children and future husband thought it was neat. At some point during our meal, my drink (remember – a Dr. Pepper) was refilled and our server finally came back after our dinner was almost over with a second beer for future husband. Not long after, he brought us our bill.

Now here’s where a relatively nice dinner starts to go downhill. I glanced over it and saw that our Groupon voucher had been applied to our total (an automatic discount of $81.00) so I was immediately puzzled as to why our final total was still over $53.00. Then I saw it.



A gratuity of 18% had automatically been applied to our bill. Thinking that our server had made a simple mistake, I waved him over to explain the issue. To my surprise and dismay, he stated that an 18% gratuity was automatically applied since we were redeeming a Groupon voucher but that this gratuity amount would have automatically been applied to our bill anyway since we were a “party of 4 or more.” I let him know that tipping wasn’t the issue. In fact, because I know that servers don’t even make minimum wage, I regularly tip around 20% anyway (and truthfully I’ll tip more than that if the service is better than “good”). Further, I would have at least tipped 20% on the amount of our total bill (before the voucher had been applied) because it’s just the right thing to do. He wasn’t going to budge though and because our youngest was starting to get really fussy because she was tired, I wasn’t going to argue. I simply handed over my card so we could go ahead and get out of there. Personally, I was insulted because he knew full well that we were using a Groupon voucher (even going so far as to explain before we even placed our drink orders that anything alcoholic would not be discounted), yet blatantly failed to mention that a required gratuity amount would be applied to our final bill. I was floored. Then, as if adding a mandatory gratuity to our bill wasn’t enough, the merchant copy of our receipt was delivered, complete with a neat little space to add an (optional) tip:



To make matters worse it was only after we arrived home that I realized we were charged for an item that the other couple ordered (a spicy tuna roll), AND that parties of 4 or more obviously weren’t “automatically” charged an 18% gratuity because our server had to input into the system that we were a party of 8 in order for the gratuity to even appear on the bill. Even if parties of 4 or more were charged an additional 18%, the boy child didn’t even order from the grill. He only wanted a sushi roll. Oh, and that Dr. Pepper refill that he so graciously brought me? Yeah, I was charged for that too. Not that I wouldn’t have paid for a refill, but if I had known that each glass was going to cost an additional $2.50, I would have simply finished my first glass and been fine.

Also, while we were there, future husband took Coraline so he could change her diaper while I finished eating. Since I didn’t witness the event, I’ll let him explain that little fiasco:

The diaper changing facilities at Sumo were the second-worst I’ve ever encountered (the worst being an airplane bathroom without a changing table).

Your standard changing platform will unfold from the wall and sit at a level 90-degree angle, often supported by at least one strap. The platform in the men’s room at Sumo, however, sits between 100 and 110 degrees, which is decidedly unsafe given the fact that you’re supposed to put an infant on there.

Baby C sensed there was something wrong with the platform and got upset the moment I laid her down. I had to change her one-handed, as I was using the other hand and my knee to attempt to hold the platform up.

I think the only more hazardous place to change a baby’s diaper in the whole restaurant would have been on the grill itself. And at least the grill was level.

Needless to say, we will not be going back. Next time we’re in the mood for teppanyaki, we’ll just drive across the street to Osaka. In addition, I’m sending this review to Groupon so hopefully anyone else who has purchase this “deal” will at least be forewarned.

Did you see what I did there? Yep, you got it! I done up and skipped Month 3 completely because, come on, was Month 3 really much different than Month 2? OK, so maybe it was a little different. I mean, once you got to about 13 weeks old you started doing this thing that I can only describe as baby voodoo magic. Since about a week after you made it to 3 months, you started sleeping through the entire night. Super Baby, all I can say is THANK YOU. You started sleeping from about 9 or 10 p.m. until around 6:30 to 7:30 a.m. Let me just say that your Timing (with a capital T) couldn’t have been any better because right around that time, for some reason I started experiencing the WORST episodes of insomnia. I would literally get 2-3 hours of sleep in a 24-hour period and after a few days of that turning into a few weeks, I would have sworn that I wasn’t even human anymore. Thankfully the insomnia has gotten marginally better over the last couple of days. I hope getting 5-6 hours of sleep at night continues (or improves), because also right around your 3-month mark, I started becoming even more exhausted than I already was. I’m talking soul-crushing fatigue so awful that even thinking about moving my body made me want to weep a mixture of broken glass and isopropyl alcohol tears. And then, your father and I realized the root cause of these effects. In April of 2012, likely before you even turn 11 months old, you’re going to be a big sister. You’re welcome!

One of the things we’ve learned about you is that you are never content to just lay around and observe the world around you. Nope. Instead, you always have to be in the middle of everything going on. So, your father and I decided to go ahead and get you an exersaucer. Never mind the fact that you were still far too small for the thing; after you got to sit in it for the first time, you spent damn near a week staring at it and smiling longingly every single time you’d notice it. If you don’t believe me, go ask your dad. You did the same thing when we bought your first stroller when you were almost 3 months old. Whenever it was out, your eyes would lock on to it and you’d just smile and coo. But, true to your nature, it didn’t take long for you to grow bored with whatever the latest toy we’d bought you, and since you like to jump on your father’s testicleeze every time you’re in his lap, we went for the safest baby product ever invented: a jumper. I was at school the evening that it was delivered, but as soon as I got home I just had to put you in it. You’re reaction was priceless. In fact, that night you came closer than you ever had to actually laughing.

Speaking of laughing, why aren’t you doing that yet? According to the Week 12 baby development email I received 6 weeks ago, you should be laughing already. We have tried literally every single day to get you to laugh and yet you still refuse. Tickling doesn’t work. Making funny faces doesn’t work. We’ve tried everything we can think of and every day when we ultimately fail, we just look at each other and say in unison, “Welp, not today!” Seriously Super Baby, you’re over 4 months old. Just effing laugh!

It’s hard to be mad about you lack of laughter though, since you more than make up for it by your ever growing vocal abilities. I could listen to you “ooh” and “ahh” all day long. Your little noises are seriously so cute that if given the chance, it would easily broker a peace deal between the Israelies and Palestinians. I’d even go so far as to bet money that the noises you make when you have the sleepy sillies would have softened bin Laden’s heart into a big pile of goo.

Now that you’re starting to get a little older, you are much more fun to interact with. Your older brother Todd went from not giving you a passing glance to being the first one that wants to go and get you out of bed whenever you wake up. He’ll sit with you in the living room and play with you every chance he gets. It’s pretty sweet to watch the two of you “play” with each other. You’ve definitely become his favourite little person.

That’s just you though. Your budding little personality is so fun to witness. You delight anyone who crosses your path, smiling and coyly flirting with anyone who dares look your way. It’s kind of nice to take you out these days because your daddy and I can enjoy a nice meal outside of the house because you insist that the party of 8 at the table next to us pass you around until we are finished eating. Let it be known that your father and I won’t ever pass up some free babysitting, yo!

Seriously though. The good days far outnumber the bad. We’ve settled into this marvelous routine and I find myself thinking toward the future, knowing that these days are numbered and that it won’t be long before you’ll be blossoming into this amazing little girl. I’m looking forward to you getting older, but I’m enjoying these moments. You sure are one Super Baby.

Love,

Mama