Sophie definitely has a bit of my temperament. She is a happy, curious child, but she is also intense. I'm not even sure intense is the right word, but she could never be mistaken for laid back or easy-going. I find it amazing that this is so obvious even from this age. So much seems to just be hard-wired in there.

I just hope she doesn't worry the way I did. It's taken me 38 years to get to where I am now, a much tempered down, relaxed version of a completely neurotic, worried woman. Maybe I can pass on some of the coping skills I have learned (finally) to deal with my overly active imagination and hyper-empathy. Maybe she has just enough of Ron's temperament to stay in the present -- something at which he is exceedingly good and at which I, until recently, have failed miserably.

I also hope I can help her find some level of peace with her place in the Universe. That's what has helped me. Feeling some sense of, I don't know, spirituality. To let go and let God, as my grandmother says. I really didn't get how to do that until the last year or so. That whether or not this life is all we have, it's all we know right now, and it is to be enjoyed. To be kind, but that you can be kind without feeling you have to save everyone.

I just finished reading this book, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year, by Anne Lamott. Excellent book. In one entry she tells about this story of a home or school for autistic children who were so far on the severe end of the spectrum that they couldn't walk. She says they tied a rope across the room and found that the children could walk by holding on to the rope. Then they made it just a string, then just a piece of fishing wire, and the children could still walk. If they took it away, they couldn't. So finally she says they cut up the fishing wire and gave each child a small piece and with it, they were able to walk. An amazing story, and one she uses to illustrate her faith a bit. I love that image. It's taken me my entire life to find my little piece of fishing wire. I hope I can help Sophie find hers early on.

I have been taking Sophie out and about more lately, which seems to be very good for both of us. She loves seeing new things and I love getting out of the house for a bit. I take her in the Ergo carrier, and she never, ever fusses. Seems being strapped next to her mama keeps her feeling pretty safe and content.

Wait. Before I mention any more about my daily life with Sophie, I should take a minute to clear something up. I've decided to start blogging again, at least for a while, in order to document these early years with Sophie, for Sophie to have when she gets older. Also, to perhaps connect with the experiences of other parents of infants out there (or memories of this time). So unlike most of my blogging history, I have a pretty clear purpose for writing.

If you have followed me for any amount of time, you will remember I also have two wonderful, beautiful, kind daughters who are teenagers now. I did not have the privilege of giving birth to them, as they came with my husband from his previous marriage, but they are my kids regardless and I have never bothered to add a 'step' before 'daughter' because I don't feel anything other than a mother's love for them.  I have written about them and my experiences with them many times over the years, but now that they are teenagers, I feel I need to respect their right to privacy concerning the details of our lives together. For this reason and because of this blog's specific purpose, I will mostly leave them out. However, they are an active and joyful part of my life and I love them dearly.They are also very good big sisters to Sophie, whom they adore. We call Carina 'Big' and Jamie 'BigBig.' They are delighted to have a wee little sister (even though Jamie asked over and over for a big brother. I told her time and again that was impossible, but she persists to this day.)

So, there you have it. This blog is going to be about Sophie's early years, mostly. If that bores you, you can skip my feed. I have so many thoughts in my head these days, thanks to this new perspective of seeing the world through a baby human's eyes, that I feel compelled to put it all down. If I don't, it's possible my brain could explode, and I just don't have the time to clean up any more messes these days.

She is just so damned beautiful. That's the problem. I had planned to go to sleep early tonight because I'm so exhausted these days I can't form simple sentences, but instead I had to lie here and stare at her until my eyes watered. She has that effect on people, I think. I get the feeling she always will, too. This one, she is positively mesmerizing.

Overall, we had a nice, relaxing Saturday, but it was definitely on the gross side of warm which made everything feel more frustrating than it needed to be. Spring is supposed to be beautiful -- crisp and fresh, you know -- but Arizona decided it was gonna ratchet up the heat a notch or two, and probably as a result of this combined with my general fatigue, I ended up walking around half the day wondering what smelled so funky weird before I realized it was me. Yeah, I know, gross, but that's the kind of day it was.

Anyway, despite having to break down and turn on the AC, we enjoyed a pleasant day of family banter, playing with Sophie and napping as much as we wanted. Jamie, Carina and I even took Sophie to the grocery store for the first time. Maybe because she was so enthralled by all the novelty or maybe because I had her in the Ergo baby carrier, she seemed to really enjoy the trip and didn't fuss once, although she seemed a bit put out that we couldn't stop to examine things for longer periods of time. I had held off taking her anywhere in public until now because I had such fear of illness entering her little, unprepared body, but she seems to have weathered a house full of sick people very well, so I decided it was most likely safe. (Of course that didn't stop me from silently steering clear of actual people as we walked through the aisles. I'm neurotic like that and it can't be helped.)

Which brings me to one of the frightening things about parenthood: the fear for their safety never really goes away. Ever. You just learn to manage it, I guess. When Jamie came down with the flu, I remember I had such dark, worried thoughts as I listened to her cough and imagined the spittle flying from one room right into Sophie's mouth. I mean, I hardly slept a wink out of fear that this nasty flu would come steal my baby away during the night. And it was right in the middle of one of these dark nights and darker thoughts that I realized I had to make peace with this fear, because it was a life partner now. I told myself that this is the Universe telling you there is something precious and worthwhile in your life and to pay attention to it and love it and be grateful for it and in the meantime push the worry to the back of your mind as far as you can, because it's going to be a long road, lady.

So I love her and enjoy her and am grateful every day for her mesmerizing spirit, and I try to keep my worry in the far recesses of my mind as much as possible. From what I can tell so far, she seems to be a curious, happy, somewhat intense child who is eager to explore the world around her.

And now it's time for this mom to get some sleep, so maybe, just maybe, I can give her a nice tour somewhere tomorrow without smelling funky and having remembered to brush my teeth and wear proper clothes. One can hope, anyway.

It is just before bed and I am drowsy and content, with my wee one sleeping quietly beside me. She appears to be feeling much better today and I was tired of being cooped up, so we got out of the house. We started with a nice journey to the park with my aunt and then stopped for a visit with an old friend who was home with her newborn baby. These excursions did much for both our spirits. I don't think she fussed once all day, probably because she was so busy taking in all the novelty.

I continue to be amazed at how quickly she grows. She is very close to crawling and these days moves quickly across the floor like a soldier on the battlefield. She stops briefly, strikes a pose as she decides where to turn next, then continues on her way. Makes me wish we lived somewhere that would allow her to explore farther without me having to pick her up and point her in a less dangerous or painful direction.

She has also taken to examining her hands with a renewed zeal. Once her favorite playthings (second only to her toes -- when she gets one of those bad boys in her mouth, she's in heaven), she is now even more enamored with them because she seems suddenly aware she can make them move. She turns a hand toward her and moves each finger one at a time, as though she is giving the "come hither" wave to whomever is watching. It's the damned cutest thing. Even better, whenever she focuses intently on something, her face transforms into all-cheek mode. It's almost too much to bear, the cuteness.

It's funny, I can't wait for the next stage of her growth, yet I know I'll miss each one as it passes. I wouldn't want it any other way though.It's a little of what being human is all about.

Sophie Dawn is 6 months old today. To celebrate, I strapped her on my back and we walked Lucy around the neighborhood. The air was all warm honeysuckle and orange blossom. The three of us lapped up the sweet Spring air like thirsty sailors. Although I was a little sad that her first forays out into nature weren't more beautiful than our run down neighborhood, I remain grateful that she has eyes with which to see the world -- both good and bad -- and that we are free to take this walk together during what for so many other modern mothers is a work day. Every now and then during our walk, she hummed, a sweet little voice in my ear, and I swear, I almost died right there from the sheer joy of it.

I don't know what I did to deserve such a blessing, but I'm forever grateful.

March came in like a lion, quickly tackled us, and has spent all month gnawing on our innards. Or at least that's how it feels to this tired mother. Everyone in the household has been ill with some variation of the flu except me. The house sounds like a sanatorium and everyone is cranky and tired, even the baby. Or maybe I should say, especially the baby. I am back to the level of tired I felt when she was a newborn and I swear I'm one lost nap away from my eyes simply rolling, red and glassy, out of my skull as I collapse on the floor.

Despite this fatigue -- or maybe because of it -- I have taken to reading every book pertaining to babies that I can get my hands on. I've always had an obsessive need to know everything about anything I turn my attention to, and now that I am raising this tiny human (while simultaneously raising two teenagers -- talk about perspective!), this need to know everything is stronger than ever. Unfortunately, there does not appear to be a consensus on how to grow a healthy, happy, thriving human being. After all those hours of reading, I feel no wiser or more sure of the path I am taking. I am left with my visceral inclinations: to show her unconditional love, take everything else on a case-by-case basis, and try not to forget that I can't be much use to anyone if I neglect myself. I hope that's enough. Even as the tears of fatigue roll down my face, I can honestly say I have never felt such great joy. There is no way to describe this love.

Wow. It's been a year since I last updated my blog. Been spending too much time working, being pregnant, having a baby . . . stuff like that, I guess. Also, perhaps a smidge too much time on Facebook. But what'reyagonnado?

Anyway, Last year I made a whole slew of resolutions which, looking back, seem funny to me. I don't think I did one of them. Good intentions, path to hell, you know. So this year I'm not resolving anything. I'm going to fly by the seat of my pants and see where that takes me. I might set some goals, probably should, but I'm definitely not making them public this time. Besides, if I've learned one, no wait - three things - from 2011, it's 1) you really can't know what the universe has in store for you from one moment to the next, 2) actions count for more than thoughts most times and 3) every day can be a new year if you want it to be. 

Today I think I'll finish my coffee, watch my baby (who is currently trying to roll over on her floor mat, which would be a first), and try to get some work done. That's enough for now.

Happy New year, everyone. Miss you guys.

And so we have a brand spankin' shiny new calendar year before us. I'm curious, what do you all plan to do with it? 

I almost never make resolutions, but this year I decided to make some. I think they're reasonable enough, and I've decided to list them publicly, so y'all can keep me on my toes and provide a little pressure on me so maybe, just maybe, I'll follow through. Here's my list:

1. Update my father's biography and book information on Goodreads.com. I have been meaning to do this since I started using Goodreads in 2008, and have not followed through. It's time.
2. Take a photo every day. Do something with it on a blog (use it as a writing prompt or play with it using photoediting software, that sort of thing). Haven't decided if it will be this blog or another. We shall see.
3. Learn to knit something other than a scarf.
4. Find joy in my new job and be the best damned Director of Communication and Fund Development that I can be.
5. Run more than I did in 2010. Run another half mary -- which race still to be determined.
6. Write something that I plan to submit to a publisher somewhere. Could be just a small article or short story to an ezine, but SOMETHING must be submitted. I can't call myself a writer if people aren't rejecting me, right?

I think that's enough to provide some good goals for the year. What about you guys -- Any goals this year? Resolutions? Stuff you wanna do or are mulling over thinking about maybe doing? 

You can call me lots of things, but lazy ain’t one of ‘em. Maybe I frequently misdirect my energy, but the fact is, even when I’m not working working, I’m still doing all sorts of work. And yes, in some parts of the globe, watching a marathon of NCIS is considered work. Anyway.

So lately I’ve taken to deep cleaning the house, like, every few days. I used to squeeze this activity into a few rushed hours on the weekend or maybe on a late night after work when I couldn’t sleep, but not now. Now, it’s a part of my “schedule.” Anyway. The point is I’ve become a bit more intimately acquainted with some household cleaning products than I used to be. And I swear after using too many crappy ones that claim to be awesome, I am totally going back to Clorox, a rag and elbow grease.

Like the Swiffer Sweeper ™. Anyone tried using this thing? I did, and I just have to ask, how is it still on the market? Seriously. First off, instead of “sweeping,” you’re more or less just “smearing shit around.” And if you’re not keen on smearing dust and dirt all over your floor, then plan to shell out some big bucks, ‘cause you’ll be bending down to replace the little sweeper pad every few swipes. And even if you’re okay with smearing stuff all over your floor (because maybe your dust and grime is actually cleaner than the average person’s or maybe you didn’t want it clean anyway, but just re-appropriated), you’re still gonna have to bend down every few sweeps because the frikkin’ little sweeper pad keeps falling off due to a really crappy mounting system. Honestly, dragging my cat around the house would have better results.

Anyway, since I’m nothing if not crafty (and because I spent half the morning directing angry thoughts at it), I’ve developed some more truthful tag lines:

Swiffer sweeper: for when you just wanna smear shit around.

Swiffer sweeper: because I don’t have a cat.

Swiffer sweeper: because using a broom is not wasteful enough.

Swiffer sweeper: punish yourself.

Seriously though, I think my next job is going to be inventor of crappy, useless or annoying products to sell to people who have no clue what to waste their money on next. There appears to be a HUGE market for it. Snuggie, anyone?

but then my head cold made me all, eh.]

Ah yes, another election approaches, and with it, all the lovely political propaganda that makes my stomach churn and my heart sink. At this point, both sides of the debate make me ill. The airwaves and interwebs are full of it - ad hominem attacks, oversimplification of issues, fear mongering - a veritable bucket full o’ fallacies and outright lies thrown at us. The thing that saddens me the most is that these tactics are used because they work. People believe them. They feed off them like hungry rats and then scamper off to infect the rest of the population. And I hate it.

The most interesting (and disturbing) thing about political discourse is that cognitive dissonance seems to keep most on either (far) side of the spectrum firmly rooted in their little political space. These people have invested much in their beliefs, and therefore they will discount credible information as false while adding new, often faulty information to bolster their opinion. They will seek out information that confirms their beliefs while ignoring information that might weaken it, truth be damned. In other words, whether they intend it to be this way or not, they do not seek fair and balanced. They seek propaganda. This is true in milder forms all along the spectrum.

So, is there anything we can do to create reasoned discourse? Can we find a way to argue our points without resorting to fallacious tactics? Will anyone listen if we do? Can we ever make progress?

Sigh.

I had more to say of a truly ranty nature, but I lost the steam for it. Why bother, eh? Who’s actually listening, and who actually wants to discuss it?

Sigh. Sniff. Cough.

Sigh.