Catching up

Good grief, has it really been more than a month? The older I get the faster time seems to pass...

So grab a chair and get comfy so I can tell you what I've been up to. Ah, that's better. First, I headed up to Sacramento for Thanksgiving. My daddy even bought me a new outfit all the way in Spain for the occasion:Yep, I thought it was cute too, except this part was a bit much:I mean, really, did they have to get tights with a chicken on my butt? (Insert fowl and chicken butt jokes here) The things people do to children are just awful, aren't they?

Then again, I guess people who get toted around on other people's backs shouldn't complain about an occasional silly outfit, right?And then there was the snow incident. Have you heard about this stuff? It's white and cold and turns into water when you touch it. I found it quite unpleasant and cried while walking in it. Or maybe I was crying because I couldn't see anything in my big hat.
After the first snow, Christmas finally came. Boy was I happy with all my new stuff. I especially like my new chair, some old Mardi Gras beads, and my duck-walker.
Finally, in addition to walking more, I've acquired some new skills in the past month or so. I've learned to brush all nine of my teeth,
To help Mama in the kitchen,
That some people have machines that actually clean their dishes for them,
And that I love beads. Wearing them, carrying them, putting them in boxes, taking them out, helping others with them. They are so much fun. I just wonder where my mom got sooooo many beads?
Who knows what 2009 will bring? Hopefully more time to blog. I promise to try.

Roadtrip!

My parents got something called "Mountain Fever" and decided to take a road trip to Sacramento to visit Onay and Papa for the weekend. The drive part was pretty boring (Bakersfield to Sacramento, anyone???) so I conked out. My mom was nice enough to snap this shot of me in my rearview mirror.
I know my cheeks look big and may be the reason my jaw is slack, but I think it's an optical illusion caused by the bulbous baby mirror. Or, it could be the fact that I'm now eating mushy foods on a regular basis. Here I am enjoying some carrots on a Monday.
No, I don't know why my bib has the day on it either. To tell you the truth, I can't tell one day from the next and I think my mom purposefully puts the wrong day's bib on me just to confuse me into think I didn't eat the same thing for dinner the day before. She's sneaky like that...Anyhow, back to my road trip.

I had a great time visiting Onay and Papa. Here I am with Onay in her backyard:
And here I am with Papa in the living room:
Onay and Papa were so shocked at the size of my jowls that they decided to get me on track with my first exercise machine. It's called an 'Exersaucer' and seems to have been designed to fool we babies into thinking exercise is fun. So far it seems to be working. Thank you Onay and Papa!In addition to learning to eat mushy foods and exercise regularly, I'm also learning to drink plenty of fluids. Here I am with my first drinking vessel:I'm told I have to bring it on my next roadtrip, which is to someplace called a "Camp Out" where I have to wear a pirate costume and be pushed around in a baby jogger while my parents sing songs and run around the beach. Sounds like fun.

On hot air

If you're wondering why I've been a bit cranky lately, it's because I'm maximizing the sympathy that comes along with getting my first tooth. That's right, my mom finally stuck her finger in my mouth and figured out that one of my bottom teeth is coming in.

Of course, she got all sentimental and started talking about how fast I'm growing up. Then she mentioned something about being cut off from the boob once my tooth comes in. Then she told me this was my first baby tooth and that when it falls out I get to leave it under my pillow at night so some freaky fairy that collects baby teeth will take it and leave money in its place. This on the heels of another tale of an egg-laying bunny that brings candy and toys in a basket because some carpenter came back from the dead a zillion years ago. I may be naive but these stories are pretty hard to swallow.

Speaking of hot air and how good my mom is at blowing it, check this new, fun game out:

My first trail

So my folks are in a "running club" called the Hash House Harriers. It's a group of people that gets together to drink beer and run around various communities. Yeah, it sounded fishy to me too, but I finally went to a "run" this weekend and found out it's not so scary after all.

Here I am looking a bit skeptical in my baby jogger:
Yes, those are Mardi Gras beads. No, I did not earn them the traditional way - and I've been told I never will because my mother has a whole store of them for me. I'm still not sure how she got hers and I'm not asking...but they sure are fun to look at when I get bored.

Once we got going it was pretty fun just cruising around staring at things and listening to the runners blowing whistles, yelling "On On!", and drawing on sidewalks...All activities I look forward to participating in one day. In fact, here I am singing along at the end:
Yes, these people stand around and sing songs after they run around whistling, drinking, shouting, and drawing arrows. How neat is that? This sort of thing makes a lot more sense than Christmas, but that's just me...

After the run and dinner my mom and me went back to our hotel and watched cable tv while dad went on a pub crawl with the runners. He came back early because it was no fun without me and mom. I could've told him that!

In other news, I turn three months old today, which means I can start wearing all my cute 3-6 month old clothes. This jacket, complete with bear ears on the hood, is from Auntie Claire and I just love it!!! Thanks Auntie Claire!!!
Oh, and I heard I'm going to Sacramento with Mom tomorrow to visit Onay and Papa. I can't wait!

One way to feel better...

...Is to spend some time on your daddy's chest making googly eyes at him. I am sooo glad he's home. He's been gone for like a quarter of my life so far and I've missed him a ton. Here I am showing him my new smiles and sounds:

Now you know where I get my good looks from!

Worst. Day. Ever.

I finally had "one of those days" that I'm always hearing about. You know, the kind your momma always tells you about.

First, let me warn you that this post contain a graphic image that may be difficult for some folks to see (especially grandparents). Let me further clarify that this image is for the good of the public and serve as a warning to other babies approaching the big 2M mark. Let me just say that place your parents take you to with the guy in the white coat is no fun!

Yep, I went to the doctor's office today for my two month check up. Both Mom and Dad went so I knew it was a big deal. First we went into an office waiting area where I hammed it up for the other people who all said how cute I was. Then we went in a small room where a nice lady weighed and measured me (11 lbs, 14 ounces and 22 1/2 inches!!!). Next a guy in a white coat came in and wiggled me around, shined little lights in all my northern orifices, poked my belly, and declared me "perfect".

Just as I was basking in my own perfection, thinking how wonderful I am, an evil lady came in wielding sharp objects. She asked my Dad to hold my hand but he said he couldn't. She asked him to sit down so he wouldn't fall over. As I was contemplating the meaning of that exchange Mom took my hand and stroked my face and then, BAM!!! That lady skewered me. Don't worry, my mom's a lawyer and we got pictures of the whole thing. I plan to sue. The lady did it four times while Dad squirmed and stared at the carpet. Here I am in agony:
Look at all those needles on the table. They are almost as big as me. It was awful. And now I feel terrible. Sure, they put a couple of Snoopy Band Aids on my legs but really, folks, do you think that makes a difference to someone who can barely focus on a Band Aid? This has to be the worst day of all 67 I've been on the outside.

I'll try to be more positive next time, but for today I've got to milk this one.

New name, new look, new me!

Woo hoo. My mom promised that as soon as I slept at least 6 hours in one stretch for three days in a row I would get to change the blog's name and layout. Really, I'm over the whole "Lentil Bean" thing. It's just embarassing because I have to explain it to everyone and no one seems to get it except my parents and, well, you know how they are...

So here it is, The Adventures of Princess Awesome, now in pink and with sound! I was so excited last night when I woke up after 6 hours and 3 minutes that I got the hiccups just thinking about it:

This really is perfect timing too because today is my 8 week birthday! I'm getting more hair, my face has cleared up, and my dad will be home in two days. It really doesn't get much better than this, does it?

A movie by LD and Princess Awesome

Little Dog (screen name LD) and I were talking the other day and decided it would be fun to make a movie. Like many first movies, it has no sound. I blame the writer's strike but it could also be because my mom did not read the camera manual chapter on sound. Either way, you can see that we make a lovely on-screen couple and most certainly have a future on You Tube if either of us so desires.

Broadening my horizons

So I just realized there is more to waking life than eating, pooping, crying, and staring at Little Dog. I just realized that these crazy creatures are hovering above my bed!!!

I can't believe I've been sleeping under these thing for nearly two months and never noticed them. I'm not sure what they are, either. When I asked my mom about them she said something about psychedelic mushrooms and 60's toy designers. Either way, when you combine them spinning slowly above you while Mozart, Bach and Beethoven play in the background, it's quite the experience. Here I am with Little Dog watching them go round and round:

I hear that listening to classical music while strange creatures hover above you during infancy makes you a genius. I'm not sure about all that hoopla. I think we babies are just amused by the theory and have nothing better to do that make noises and squirm at virtually anything you put in front of us at this stage. Either way, it's fun to finally be noticing things around me other than Little Dog. If you don't have one of these above your bed, I highly recommend one!

I scream, you scream...

...for now apparant reason!!!

Yep, I've mastered the art of uncontrollable, inconsolable, otherwise unacceptable crying (exception for babies - check the rule book). Here I am in action last night. I lasted four and a half hours before I gave in!!!Yep, one of my new favorite things to do is have a good four to six hour cry about every third day of my life. It gives me something to look forward to and makes the days pass more quickly. It's fun because I make my mom carry me in awkward positions, pretend I like it, then scream at the top of my lungs if she moves an inch. I'm not sure she likes the game, bit it's the only one I know right now. It's quite tiring but great for the lungs - I'm thinking rock star or opera singer might be in my future...My mother seems to think I won't have a future if I keep it up. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound promising.

All the books say it's something called "colic" but to me it's just venting my frustration at having no control of my life. Think about it: my neck doesn't work, I poop myself on an hourly basis, I have to eat the same thing every day, people babble at me as if I'm an imbecile, and my parents sometimes dress me funny and take pictures while referring to something called "prom night". You'd scream too.

Just when I think my mom has had enough I'll put on my angelic face and settle in for the night, being sure to smile at her lots the next day and look just as cute as can be before I start up again. Here I am getting back in her good graces on one of my days off.
I can't wait for Christmas when I can show the whole family how loud I can get!

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

I found something almost as interesting as Little Dog. It's called a bath:Apparently you sit in the kitchen sink in a tub of warm water and someone rubs you down with pleasant smelling bubbly stuff while making funny faces and talking in a strange voice. Despite this odd parental behavior, it is quite soothing and I've come to enjoy it. Aren't I cute?

My First Buzz

From milk, that is. Yes, this is what I look like splayed out on the Boppy pillow after "sucking the life" out of my mother as she so aptly puts it:
I know, it's not my best angle but I'm still pretty cute.

My first BFF

Sorry I haven't posted lately but I've been busy with my new Best Friend Forever (BFF).

This, my friends, is Little Dog, and I must admit I've become quite obsessed with him.
He sleeps with me:
Talks to me, and listens when I talk. And sometimes we just stare at echother for hours. It's pretty special.
Sometimes my parents try to switch him out with a panda bear or cat or zebra but I'll have none of it. I may not know much, but I do know my Little Dog.

In other news, Halloween came and went without much fanfare here. I had the forethought to thoroughly exhaust my mother the night before so she barely had the energy to dress me as a cow and take a few pictures before I threw a fit:

This worked out well seeing as how she dressed me as a cow and planned to wear a "Got Milk?" shirt and carry around her breast pump all night for our costumes. Yes, my parents are strange.

I've got to get back to Little Dog, we have a play date this morning.

The Psychedelic Furs were right...

...when they sang that girls are pretty in pink. But come on folks, enough is enough...That's right, I've only been home a week and I'm already being inundated with pink everything. I know I'm a girl. I've even heard that pink is the new black. I get it. But the simple fact of the matter is that a girl can only wear the same color so many days in a row without looking like she's wearing the same thing everyday. Haven't you all seen Sex in The City? It's a basic rule of fashion that you alternate colors. I don't care what Mary Kay has to say about it.
So people, please, even though I am pretty in pink and appreciate that you all love me so much and love buying girl things, I'm not Molly Ringwald and I would love some items in another color - perhaps even on the other side of the color wheel with a Tonka truck or something on it for good measure?

And props to those of you who appreciate the 80's reference. Maybe my parents are raising me right after all...

My first skin flick

Hey!!! I'm here. I came on October 16 at 6:21 pm. My mom keeps calling me a butterball because I was 8 pounds, three ounces and only 18 inches long. What did she expect? She's only 65 inches long and not much of that is in the middle!!! That's me up there in the video. Thanks, dad, for making my first skin flick just moments after my first breaths. Paris Hilton's got nothing on me!!!

You might have heard there was a lot of hoopla surrounding my arrival. I really didn't want to come out but they made me. First they tried drugging my mother but I wouldn't budge. Have you ever seen the width of a size four pelvis? You wouldn't want to stick your perfectly round head and flat ears in there either!!! So I wouldn't. Yep, I stood my ground for 18 hours. Who says Libras can't be stubborn? Maybe I'll grow up to be one of those crazy Greenpeace women tied to an old growth tree someday.

In the end they had to cut mom open and lift me out. Dad watched. I saw him first. He needed a shave but otherwise looked pretty happy to see me. Did you know he's bald? I never knew that. He was the first to tell me I was a girl. Of course, I already knew that.

I spent the first couple of nights with mom in the hospital then I got a fever and the doctors took me away to a place with really tiny babies in incubators. I think they wanted to make me feel fat or lucky or something. It worked. They poked and prodded and couldn't find anything wrong with me so I finally got to come home yesterday. My parents just stared at me so I toyed with them a bit - testing different cries, teaching them that I don't like a wet diaper and that when I want milk, I want it NOW. I also taught them I like to be held a lot and that if they do everything I tell them to I will reward them with three hours of silence.

Finally, much to my relief, I was not named Lentil Bean. They keep calling me that, but I saw them write down Sarah Addison McQuillen on the birth certificate. I heard that Sarah means "Princess" and Addison means "Awesome" so I'm thinking of changing the blog name to The Adventures of Princess Awesome. What do you think?

Almost there

So my mom was at the doctor's office the other day and I overheard the doctor tell her about two or three more weeks. That was after the doctor rudely poked me in the head and said, "Well, that's the head - in position but still a bit high". Duh. That's my job, isn't it? To head south, face down, listen for the screaming, avoid forceps and vacuums, and search for the light? It just took me a while to get my foot out of my mom's ribcage and start the migration...They really don't give me enough credit - it's as if they all think I'm just sitting in here freeloading while my mom does all the work. It's tough to flip around inside a person who grunts at the slightest poke to an organ or nerve then push your way past a bladder and some other funny smelling stuff.

In other news: While we were at the doctor's office I had a little chat with another IU (in utero), as we call ourselves. This chick was torturing her mother by hanging out longer than expected. She told me she was already about 9 pounds and going to hang on another week or so and that maybe we'd see each other on the outside in a couple of weeks. Her theory is that the longer you stay in, the more happy your parents are to see you when you get out. I don't know about that because my mom told me if I went past Halloween I'd be grounded for life, whatever that means. Still, it's getting cramped and boring in here. Making mom pee herself at Home Depot has lost it's charm and she seems to have accepted sleeplessness so that's no fun either. I'm thinking two weeks would be fine with me.

My First Fair

I almost forgot to tell you, my parents took me to the California State Fair up in Sacramento last month. Even though I couldn't go on any of the rides, I did get my picture taken in front of the insect area in one of those cut-outs made especially for kids and bellies. Some folks were a bit shocked that I would pose at such a young age, but I think the pic turned out pretty nice:
Yes, this does appear to be some sort of foreshadowing of the torture I will no doubt endure for the next 18 years. At least my parents have fun with it...

It's funny....

...I could've sworn my my mom used to have feet.
Just another day hanging out in the womb. It's getting cramped in here. Last night I spent a good hour trying to get my foot out of mom's ribcage. She kept pushing on it as if I have motor skills and could pull my foot out of my own volition. Then dad comes in and starts poking me and speaking in a strange voice. I think he may be "special". I hope I'm not "special" too.

In other news, I heard them talking about names again. I'm all for losing the Lentil Bean handle and am relieved dad is no longer pushing for "Jack Daniel" if I'm a boy. Seriously, that was an option, or so he thought. Mom says it doesn't matter because after dad sees her suffer through pushing me out she can name me anything she wants. And I know they aren't publicizing the names because then people will tell stories about idiots they've known with that name and ruin it for them, but here's what I hear the options are:

If I'm a girl, my first name is pretty much set in stone: Sarah, after my mom's good friend who passed away several years ago. I like that when spelled backward it's "Haras" - something I intend to become expert at. The middle name is still up for grabs. It was originally going to be Sarah Riley McQ, but Riley is the family dog and that would be too much. Dad wants Sarah Abigail McQ, because then they can call me SAM - after my initials. I say why not name me Samantha if you want to call me Sam? Mom wants Sarah Chance McQ, because all of this has happened by chance and she thinks it's a cool middle name - for a boy or girl.

If I'm a boy we've been through a lot of suggestions: Matzo Junior was out pretty early on, so was Buzz and Muncher, then some popular names like Parker and Cole were passed upon. The past two weeks they've been on Tobin as a first name. (I note that they have a lot of Tobin James wine in the house and this is the second booze-related name proffered by dad...). Dad wants Tobin Daniel McQ - as Daniel is a family name. Mom wants Tobin Chance McQ, again on the whimsical "by chance" thing (Could be the hormones and lack of booze on her part).

Any suggestions on how to resolve this? We've got a few weeks left to campaign...

I'm not going to CSU Bakersfield!!!!

Thanks a lot Charles Schwab and Baby Center. It's not enough that you freak my mom out every week with e-mails about things like episiotomies, loss of bladder control, post partum depression, and the plethora of random birth defects you feel the need to point out to new mothers. No, you had to go and send my parents an e-mail telling them how much I'll cost them only a month before my debut! This is really going to take the wind of my sails on arrival day.

This is what I could see of the calculation you so eagerly provided:

Here's what you're likely to spend to raise a child:
$355,906
(Before you despair, remember that your income is likely to increase over time!)

Click on each category to see what's included in the expense. Note that you can change the annual amount you plan to spend on each category or the age at which you expect each expense to start or end and then recalculate your total.

Expense	Start Age	End Age	Annual Cost
Housing
Food
Transportation
Clothing
Healthcare
Childcare/Education
Miscellaneous
College

Cost for first year (excluding college) is $16,929

Total cost is $355,906

I didn't see any category for counseling and I'm pretty sure I'll need it. I hear it's about $200 per hour and if you've met my parents you'll know that could get hefty. I'm thinking Running With Scissors kind of hefty. And if I get my dad's hair I'll need to join a hair club early on. I hear that's not cheap. Plus, I could turn out like my grandmother and have an addiction to the art of procuring expensive and exotic animals.

And exactly what college are they planning to send me to in 2025 that will cost a mere $13,000 a year? Don't they know I'm a prodigy but will be a slacker genius who shuns test taking and traditional schooling but blossoms in college, thereby making me ineligible for any scholarships or grants but too compellingly intelligent to keep away from the realm of higher education for the possibility that I may be the one to find the cure to some horrific disease? I'm pretty sure Harvard will be around $213,000 per year by then. Mom had better get back to work real soon 'cause I was out working the truffle farm with her this morning and I'm not banking on that bringing in much...

Boy or girl???

I took my mom to the doctor today. First I put her through a hellish night, though. It was revenge for her saying she's "over it" about hosting me for all this time. Really, it's not that nice to hear that you are wanted out of the only place you've ever called home just because someone is tired of carrying you around and having you suck the life out of them. It's not entirely my fault she's gaining weight, retaining water and has to pee every five minutes. She could eat and drink less if she really wanted to...And I won't even get into the things she has to say to me in the middle of the night while trying to situate her 123 pillows into some comfortable configuration. Don't think I don't know she scarfs down spicy food with no regard to my taste for it. Why do you think she eats so many Tums a day?

So what was the point of this post again? Oh yeah, we were at the doctor's office and the lady says, "You're having a girl?" This is the second time I've heard this while they are listening to my heartbeat. I guess girls have faster heartbeats than boys. I noted my mom got a little more excited when she heard this. I think she wants me to be a girl.

My parents were pretty adamant about not finding out what I am so even I don't know yet. Mom calls me "she" and Dad gets upset and says it would be better to call me "he" in case I'm a boy so I'm not confused about my sexuality later in life. Don't worry, Dad, I've seen you cross-dress in women's lingerie and be licked on the head by other similarly clad men so I doubt I'll be scarred for life by Mom calling me "she" instead of Lentil Bean every now and then. Then again, I may be scarred by you two constantly talking to me in strange voices and calling me Lentil.

Any predictions from folks who've seen me or Mom on what you think I'll be? Maybe we should start a pool or something to make it more sporting? I know the first thing I plan to do when I come out is look down and see what all the fuss is about.