I Love You

If I could have a nickle for every time I say "I love you" to Eole, we could retire now. I think every parent looks forward to the day when their child says, "I love you" back for the first time. Well, Eole finally said those golden words for the very first time the other day, but she didn't say them to me or to Daniel. We put baby Davyn on her lap and as she gently nuzzled him she said, "I love you, baby Davyn." We couldn't have asked for anything more tender from our little girl than that.

What’s in a name: I think it was either our first or second date when Daniel told me that his first born child would be a girl named Eole. I didn’t argue because a year later, I met the namesake, Eole F. a wonderful woman who lives in Siena, Italy. . Boy names are another story. There is a criterion for boy names that makes it very difficult for us to agree on, well, anything. For three generations, the first-born Pugmire male has been given a first name starting with “D,” and the middle name McKay (which goes back around nine generations). It so happens that there are practically no “D” names we both like enough to name a son. And so, for the past seven years we have casually tried to come up with a suitable name for a first born son. Enter December 21st: the day before we were to find out that we were having a boy. We both assumed we’d have another girl, but then the evening before the ultrasound, I started to panic. What if this was a boy? We’ve got to find a name TONIGHT!! Enter the internet: thank you technology! We like our names to have some family or personal or literature tie, but desperate times call for desperate measures. As I scanned Boy “D” names, one jumped out at me: DAVIN. It sounds so nice, doesn’t it? And I’ve never met anyone with this name (part of my personal criteria). But what does it mean? I can’t just attach a random “D” name to our boy. On further searching, I find that Davin is a derivative of David. That could be fitting seeing as Daniel’s dad’s name is David. Then I see that there is also DAVYN, which is the Welsh form of David. Daniel’s grandmother is Welsh. PERFECT!

And so, here is our Davyn McKay Pugmire, photographed against the McKay Tartan Plaid.

My girl has expensive taste:

While at our local CVS a few days ago, Eole asked if she could have a toy car. She is very into cars and trains because all her little friends are boys. I allowed her to pick out a car from the case: there were fire trucks, school buses, Model T Fords, Mustangs….and what does she reach for? The Yellow Porsche Carrera GT, 1/36 scale. You can own a full scale one, second hand, for a mere $339,000.00. I bought the car, but told Eole that this was the only Porsche I was ever going to buy her.

Pregnancy One versus Pregnancy Two:

Let me explain: this is a picture from my first pregnancy…the one where I didn’t know what was going one…the one where I made all the wrong decisions. First there was the weight gain. I had never felt such horrid sickness day in and day out and while I really didn’t enjoy eating, eating was the only thing that helped limit the nausea. OK, full disclosure: around 20 weeks, I actually started to enjoy eating again and then I wasn’t going to let anyone stop me. There was even an incident involving my husband throwing my McDonald’s french fries out the window of the car in pure disgust at my rapacious appetite. Was it some hormonal imbalance in my first pregnancy that induced me to get a horrendous haircut? Why did I think a bob would be a good idea? Wasn’t my face round enough at that point? Did I really need a hairstyle to accentuate that roundness? And oh, those clothes! I bought them on some discount maternity online store. I’m pretty sure they were leftovers from the early 90’s. I remember receiving compliments from some co-workers (the ones who thought business dress was a nice pair of sweat pants) saying that they appreciated that I was wearing matronly maternity clothes instead of those modern-day (translate as stylish) maternity clothes young (hip, gorgeous) pregnant girls were wearing. I should have gone straight home to burn all those matronly clothes then and there. And why did I decide that it was a good idea to stop wearing make-up? Daniel confessed to me (post-pregnancy) that in my final weeks, he had come across my old driver’s license photo from New Hampshire and had almost started crying at how beautiful I had been. You know it’s bad when your husband thinks an old driver’s license picture is prettier than what you have become.

So, I’ve learned my lesson. I bought some stylish shirts that my former co-workers would not approve of, I’ve limited food consumption…sorta, I’ve stayed away from the beauty salon, and I put on make-up each and every day. That last one is even a step up from the pre-pregnancy days. Maybe this way, my husband won’t go into a deep funk when I tell him in a few years that I’m ready to get knocked up again.

The Trifecta:

When Eole was born, my favorite thing to do was to rock her while I fed her a bottle and we gazed adoringly into each other’s brown eyes. I knew that as soon as she was able, she’d be insisting on holding her own bottle and would prefer the company of a comfy couch over her mother’s arms. Yes, I just knew those precious baby days were numbered. Fast forward 2.5 years and the numbering has yet to run out. When Eole wakes up from her nap, she needs what Daniel has named “The Trifecta” and what Eole calls the “Lalala.” This involves 1. Her bottle, 2. Milk in the bottle (preferably of the chocolate variety), and 3. Mommy holding the bottle while feeding and cradling Eole. Eole knows how to ask for a bottle and for milk and for snuggles. But when she says she wants “Lalala,” she is talking about all three. And don’t even try to get her to hold her own bottle, not even for one moment. Drop that bottle and she will scold you and tell you to pick it up again. Bottle-holding is strictly mommy’s responsibility. One change from her babyhood is that during this lalala time, she will pull up her shirt and, with bottle nipple still in mouth, she will ask for a “belly tickle” as well.

These are a few of my favorite things….

Eole loves doing water colors with her daddy. I’m hopeful that she has inherited his artistic talent and not my limited stick figurine skills. My southpaw also loves to make “counting” marks on paper all while counting, “three, four, five, seven, ten.”

Eole loves Locopops, a locally-owned artisan popsicle shop, whose flavors include such exotics as Mexican chocolate, mango chili, and mojito.

Eole loves going down to the local lake for a dip in the chilly water. Just try to keep her clothes on…I dare you.

Eole also loves feeding her singing bullfrog her left-over cereal. That's my girl!

And now for the holidays. 2011 brought a dearth of holiday celebrations. In fact, the only holiday we celebrated was Christmas. That’s what happens when you sell your house, move across the country, start working 90 hours a week and are pregnant-sick all the time. Now that Eole is two, I realize I need to step it up when it comes to celebrating holidays. I remember being two, and I don’t want her to look back and realize what a burn-out mom she had.

While still sick at Christmas, I did manage to finally finish our felt stockings. As a newly- wed couple, Dan and I pulled out our childhood stockings for our first Christmas together. Imagine our surprise to find that we both possessed home-made (and maybe a little homely) felt stockings. Thus began the dream to make new felt stockings for us and our future children. Eight Christmases later, I finally finished our first three!

I might have gone a little over-board for Easter this year…I bought four bags of candy for myself and a two-year old (Dan hates Easter candy, which is a down-right heresy in my book). The worst part is that I actually had to go to the store again because Eole and I had eaten most of that candy before Easter. Eole and I also participated in two Easter egg hunts. Although, she preferred to pick up a few eggs and then hide them again rather than keep them.