Dear MP,

(What? It was a really busy day, ok? And I realize she's not in pajamas. Busy day!)

You are ten months old today! In just two months, you will be turning one. My eyes watered up just writing that. Parenting is so bittersweet. It's a complete joy to watch you grow, develop, learn and change. But it also feels like your babyhood is slipping through my fingers. It makes me understand people like the Duggars. Babies grow up so fast, that you long to do it all over again, with the hopes that the next time maybe things will go more slowly.

Your sleep habits have gone to a whole new level of strange. After hating tummy time for so many months, you now roll onto your tummy to sleep every night. I fought it at first, and kept flipping you, but it's clear this preference is here to stay.

What I hope won't be around forever is the crawling in your sleep thing. Besides just resulting in some uncomfortable sleeping positions:

(Yes, your foot was through the rail, and yes, your head was touching the side)

you also have been waking up in the middle of the night (mainly because you've banged your head against the crib rail).

You pull up constantly and are starting to take some tentative cruising steps. You also are waiving, but it's unconscious. Your arm is waiving at us, but when we waive back, you stop and look puzzled. You'll put it all together in no time.

I absolutely love being home with you more. We do fun stuff like go for walks, go to the park, go visit your great-grandparents, go shopping, and have tickle-fests. The sound of you laughing is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

You know what the word "no" means, but you sometimes have a hard time obeying. If I say "MP, no; don't touch that," you'll shake your head, acknowledging the "no," but nine times out of ten you touch it anyway and I have to move you away and distract you. You can be pretty determined to get to something that you shouldn't, and if we block you from it, you usually throw a mini temper-tantrum. I guess we deserve a temper tantrum or two because you've been such an easy-going baby for so long.

In addition to understanding the word "no," if we ask you to paddy cake, you start clapping your hands. Of course you refuse to do this around anyone we want to impress.

Eating has been going well, and it's interesting to discover what foods you like. You have oatmeal mixed with applesauce almost every morning. You absolutely love cheese - even swiss! You don't like actual peaches or pears, but you'll still eat the baby food versions. You like meat - this is clearly from your father. I could never eat meat again and never miss it. I don't think you're going to be a picky eater, but you do sometimes like a food one day and then refuse it the next. With the exception of Cheerios. One day you will turn into a Cheerio, I think.

You make me laugh and smile more than I can ever remember laughing and smiling before. I really wish there were a way to bottle you at this age, and preserve it, so that when you're 16 and whining that your car is embarrassingly old, I can whip out the bottled-baby and remember back to a time when we played the "take mommy's sunglasses off her face, and then laugh" game 100 times in an afternoon.

We love you so much and we're so proud of you.

Yummy bacon

Last night, word spread quickly over Huntsville and Madison that there were two probable cases of swine flu in Heritage elementary in Madison.  Heritage is 4 miles from my house.  All Huntsville and Madison schools (including daycares) are shut down today and Friday.

We had breakfast for dinner last night, which included delicious bacon.  It was completely random timing, but I did feel like I was doing my part to thumb my nose at pigs. 

The good news is that this does not alter my work schedule since I wouldn't have been working on Thursday or Friday anyway.  The bad news is that I can't do anything with MP - all public parks have closed, and they encouraging folks not to take their kids to places like the grocery store.  It doesn't help that MP has a runny nose (she's had it since last Friday (without any fever)) but I'm sure some stressed parent would see her and be convinced that she has the dreaded oinker influenza.

In other news, MP turns 10 months today.  I'll be posting a proper monthly letter later this afternoon.

Not completely neglectful...

These....





Are supposed to stop this:

It's tough being a baby

MP has been crawling like crazy and has added pulling up to her new skill set. We lowered the crib bed as soon as she started crawling in order to prevent any toppling out of bed.

It's a really good thing that we don't co-sleep anymore because MP has taken her sleep-slamming and morphed it into sleep crawling. She literally starts crawling in her sleep, bumps into the rails, and wakes up confused. She is always in an extremely uncomfortable position when we check on her.

What we haven't been able to protect her from is herself. She is completely determined to pull up, even when there is nothing to grip. She tried to pull up using our entertainment center on Sunday, but she couldn't reach the top, so she was "pulling up" against a smooth plane. She slipped, and nose and lip met corner:

MP cried harder than I've ever heard her cry, and her nose bled a little. I did ok, all things considered. MP put her head on my shoulder and just snuggled with me.

We took these pictures yesterday night. The mark is on her right, your left. It actually looks much worse today. She looks like she's a baby fighter.

Then when Dad picked her up from daycare, we got a note that she had toppled over and made her jaw bleed. Lovely. Bleeding twice in two days? This is not a trend I would like to see continue. They gave her an ice pop to suck on and loved on her and said she barely cried.

I'm just hoping she gives up fight club soon.

Can't be depressing

for too long.  Baby cuteness!!!

Ballerinas

One of my favorite books growing up was about a little girl who became a ballerina.  It was actually my mother's book that she saved for me.  [I have the book saved for MP as well, although I couldn't put my fingers on it as I was writing this.]

The plot of the story was that there was a little girl who could not go outside and play with the other children because her legs weren't strong enough.  Her doctor recommended that she take up ballet to strengthen her legs.  The little girl was shy and unsure at first, but she grew stronger and better with each practice.

She became so dedicated that her father installed a ballet bar and mirror in their house so that she could practice at home.  She graduated to toe shoes and then got a part in the school's production.  Her mother made her a beautiful tutu and she performed elegantly.  

The illustrations in the book are stunning.  I can still remember them so clearly.  She had a tiny black bag to carry her leotard and tights.  She practiced the positions and plies.  

Of course, I wanted to become a ballerina.

My mother enrolled me in ballet when I was (I believe) 5.  I was so excited to have my very own black leotard and pink tights (although I didn't have the tiny black bag).  Somehow at the tender age of 5, I was already behind.  I walked into the classroom, very shy, and knew immediately that the other girls knew what to do.  

At first the teacher was patient, showing me the positions, and how to plie.

But then, she became concerned. 

"Tuck in your derriere, like this" and she would show me how to tilt my pelvis forward, lessening the curve of my back, to minimize my behind.  

I would look at myself in the mirror and try to mimic her behavior.

"No, no, no, like this" and she would show me again.

I would plie, and she would come to me again "Derriere in, dear, derriere in." 

I worked so hard to tuck in my rumpus, that I ended up assuming some very strange positions.  I would plie, but with my knees bending forward instead of the sides, in order to "tuck in" on my way down.

[Aside: it should probably be noted that part of the problem was likely the fact that I was wearing thick little girl undies beneath my tights and leotard, which would always bunch up and give me an overall lumpy appearance.  Other girls went au naturale under their tights, but I was too shy to get that undressed in the dressing room.]

After about 3 lessons, I finally realized the problem.  It was not that I wasn't forming the positions or movements properly.  It wasn't even that I wasn't graceful.  I'm sure I was on par with the other girls.  The problem, in the teacher's eye, was that I didn't have a ballerina's body. I had too bountiful of a behind.

I asked my mother to let me stop taking ballet.  

I look at MP's perfect little toddler body, and I worry.  I worry that someone is going to make her feel badly for the knees that she inherited from me, that I inherited from my mother, who inherited them from hers.  I worry that some snooty ballet teacher will make her feel, for the rest of her life, that she could never dance.  I worry that my own worries about my own body will rub off onto her.  I worry that instead of focusing on the important things in life - being loving, kind, having a servant's heart, being loyal, strong, healthy, and working hard - she'll worry about the size of her jeans.

One summer when Dad and I were dating, I was obsessed with trying to lose weight.  I was so unhappy with my body.  For breakfast, I had a bowl of cereal.  For lunch, I had deli meat (yup, just meat).  I would eat a normal dinner, but only after going for a run.

Of course, I was perfectly normal (and more importantly, healthy) without losing any weight.  And I weigh around 40 pounds more now than I did then.  And yet, I was so unhappy, and worried all the time.  

I don't know how to prevent MP from doing that to herself.  I don't know how to teach her to balance being healthy, strong and active with loving and accepting her body.  

But I think part of the way is in that book.  The reason the girl in the story started dancing was not to get thinner, be more graceful, or even to wear beautiful costumes.  The reason she started dancing was to make her legs stronger.  

MP, you can take ballet if you want to  if you remember that ballerinas are not only beautiful and graceful - they're strong, too.  

MP-naut

This is the only outfit of MP's that Dad didn't mind cost nearly $40.

Great-grands

I have in my head a really great webbity-blog entry, but MP was a handful tonight.  Actually she wasn't really a handful, she just wasn't what I am used to.  Her typical bedtime routine has been "Oh, it's 7:00.  Please take me to my crib, mother, where I shall lie down and sleep."

Suddenly it's become "DON'T PUT ME IN THAT CRIB UNTIL 8:30, AND THEN ONLY IF I'M GOOD AND READY!  AND YOU HAD BETTER BE ROCKING ME TONIGHT!!"

Ahem.  

So instead of typing and editing, and so forth, I present: MP with my grandparents (from Easter weekend).  Enjoy!

Easter Photos

MP sporting the Easter dress Mammaw (my mom) made her.



An apparently adorable picture of MP petting our pet bunny, Zorro. Did I mention we have a pet bunny? We do. It's a whole other story, but we do. This was the first time MP and Zorro met. Here she is looking so innocent.



This is her yanking poor Zorro's ears, and Dad trying to stop her.
I'm sure Zorro would have enjoyed Easter much more if he were not subjected to MP.

Check out MP's eyelashes. She gets them from Dad. Punk.

MP and I first thing Easter morning (please excuse the lack of makeup)

MP and Dad with their Easter baskets

Overheard at home

Scene:  Our house, this morning.  Dad comes in wearing a t-shirt and jeans after getting ready for work.

Me:  Don't you need to wear a shirt with a collar?

Dad: No, it's casual Friday!

Me:   Does that shirt have a stain on it?

Dad:  No, it's water.  Besides, it's casual Friday!  If my co-worker can wear a J@ck D@niel's baseball hat, then I can wear this.

Me:  You didn't shave, either?

Dad:  No, it's casual Friday!

Lawyering

I wanted to take a few minutes to give some general corporate law advice for new or small businesses.  First, I must give a disclaimer.

While I am a lawyer, I AM NOT YOUR LAWYER.  And even if a client happens to stumble upon this, THERE IS NO REASON TO THINK THIS ADVICE APPLIES TO YOU.  You should always consult your own attorney for legal questions, and if you rely solely on what I say here, you are a fool.  

Now, for general advice..

1. If you cannot afford to use the services of a lawyer and an accountant, you have no business starting a business.  This is actually an overriding theme of all of the points below.  So much heartache and money can be saved if you just invest a small amount of money up front in your business.  These are mistakes that I see people make who haven't been smart enough to invest the money in an attorney and accountat up front.
2. Do not run your business as a sole proprietorship unless there is absolutely no risk of liability, whatsoever.  As a sole proprietor, you are liable for all of the liabilities of the business.  That means your house, your car, your retirement, your savings and any other asset you have can be reached by creditors.  By forming a corporation you limit your liability.
3. Even if you have incorporated, if you have done it improperly, you could be subject to what is known as "piercing the corporate veil."  Just filing an articles of incorporation that you downloaded off of the secretary of state's website is not enough to limit your liability as the owner of the business.  There are formalities that must be observed, otherwise courts will deem you to have abused the corporate structure, and "pierce" the corporate protection and go after your personal assets.  These abuses include co-mingling personal funds with business funds, not observing corporate formalities, and failing to have adequate liability insurance.
4. Be sure you own your company.  Just because you are the incorporator of your company does not mean you own it.  The stockholders own a company.  Thus, you need to issue yourself stock of the company.  Don't think that because you have authorized 1,000 shares, you own 1,000 shares.  Let's say you authorize 1,000 shares and give 10 of those shares to your friend.  If you haven't given yourself any shares, then your friend owns 100% of your business.  All that matters for ownership purposes is the number of shares that has been issued by the corporation, not the number authorized by the articles of incorporation.
5. Selling the stock of your company could result in securities law violations.  The general rule is that in order to sell stock (which is a security), you must comply with federal and state securities regulations, which require that securities be registered.  There are ways to legally avoid federal and state regulation, but they are complicated and will be the subject of a later post.  Suffice it to say, if you have been selling the stock without seeing an attorney first, chances are you have violated some securities regulation.
6. Protect your intellectual property.  Many business owners don't think they have intellectual property because they don't have any patents.  Every business has intellectual property.  Your name.  Your logo.  If some of your intellectual property was created for you by an independent contractor, you may not own it.  
7. Discuss taking an S election with your attorney and accountant.  I'm not even going to give details on this one, but just know that some small businesses that qualify can avoid double taxation of their income, but only if the proper forms are filed at the proper time (usually within 2.5 months of incorporation).  

This is a short list of the problems I commonly see.  It's not fun to tell a client that they don't own their business, or their intellectual property, or that they have a major tax bill due because they failed to take their S election.  It's extremely easy to start a business in this country, and I'm not saying that's a bad thing.  But just because it doesn't cost much money to start a business, doesn't mean that anyone can be successful.  And the worst thing that I see happen is when people have built a successful business but don't get to enjoy that success because they failed to spend just a few extra dollars on an attorney and accountant at the beginning.

Most attorneys will negotiate a flat fee with you, instead of charging an hourly rate for incorporation.  I do this all the time.  I usually end up losing money because of the time involved.  I sit down with the client for at least an hour and explain to them the legal side of owning a business, the tax consequences, and what the steps are.  I take their phone calls, and make sure that all of the "t's" are crossed and "i's" dotted.  I do this, even though I lose money on it, because it is a community service.  It's important for small busienss owners to be properly protected and avoid violating any laws.  So please, go see a lawyer.  If you don't know who to call, contact your state's bar, and they will give you some suggestions.  You can always ask for a flat fee, and if a lawyer won't work with you, call another one! 

Tales from Daycare

MP has been in her new daycare class for two weeks now.  Other than some slight anxiousness the first day of drop off, she has been doing really well.

I've mentioned before that I do drop off and Dad picks her up.  (You can see who is the Bad Parent, and who is the Good Parent).

Tuesday, Dad regaled me with the story of his pick up that day.  When he got to the gate, MP was across the room.  He leaned his head in and said "MP!"  and she smiled and laughed and crawled over 20 feet to him.  

"It was the best feeling in the world to watch her crawl so far to see me."

Yesterday I called Dad to see if he could pick up dinner for us, if I would pick up MP.  With all of our weekend travels, I hadn't made it to the grocery store.  He agreed.

When I got to daycare, I leaned my head in and called to MP.  She turned and started crawling towards me.  I was looking forward to her giving a repeat performance.  But instead, she was stopped by the xylophone she had been playing with.

I sighed, and came in and started packing her up.  Undaunted, I called for her a few times to try and entice her away from the xylophone.  After a few attempts, she finally turned to crawl to me, dragging the xylophone with her halfway across the room.

"Come see Mama," I said.

To add insult to injury she clearly said, over and over, "Dada, dada, dada."

Her teachers laughed.  "She always comes running to her Dad.  She must be a Daddy's girl."

That's ok, MP.  You can be a Daddy's girl.  So long as every now and then you're a Mommy's girl too.   

Easter Weekend Wrap Up

** Please note that I will update with pictures when I get my camera back - I left it at my in-laws.**

Easter Weekend, Bullet Style

• Friday.  After receiving the news about Grandpa, prepare to head to Birmingham.  We left around 7:00 (MP's bedtime) so that she would sleep on the way down.  She ended up sleeping in the bed with me at Birmingham Harpers because Someone (not naming names, Uncle B and Dad) woke up her and she wouldn't stop crying.  Dad slept in another room.

• Saturday.  Helped out as we could around the house.  Did some work that I needed to complete by Monday.  MP was her adorable, laughing, smiling, crawling self.  She lightened the mood, despite bonking her head on the coffee table far too many times.  Saturday night we headed back to Huntsville.

• Sunday.  Up and dressed in her new Easter dress that Huntsville Grandma (Mammaw) made.  First Easter baskets and pictures with our bunny Zorro.  Did I ever mention we have a bunny?  Dad and I kept nursery, which was quite busy (for obvious reasons).  We had lunch at Huntsville Grandparents, where all of my grandparents came.  So, MP got to be her adorable, laughing, smiling, crawling self for four great-grandparents.  After lunch, back down to Birmingham.  Giant family dinner at Birmingham Harper's house.  Up late swapping tales of Grandpa

• Monday.  Family visitation and burial service for Grandpa at 9:00.  Back to the house for a nap.  Memorial service at 2:00.  Uncle J played a song on his guitar that he composed in honor of Grandpa.  It was an original melody that flowed into an arrangement of Amazing Grace.  Simply beautiful.  Dad gave the eulogy.  He did a wonderful job.  I know Grandpa was proud.  Back to Huntsville after chowing down on some Davenport's pizza.

We will return to regularly-scheduled blogging shortly.

We love you Grandpa!

Dad's grandfather passed away today. He was 89 years old.

Grandpa (which is what everyone called him) possessed all of the required qualifications of being an excellent grandfather - especially the ability to tell a story. Aunt C remembers the vivid stories of Grandpa fighting the Indians out west. At the climax of the story, as the cowboys were surrounded, she would ask "What happened Grandpa? What happened?"

His response: "They got me."

Aunt C remembers asking her mom, "Did you know that one time Grandpa was killed by Indians?"

He loved the mischief of his grandchildren. Many years ago he had purchased a new camera and had given strict instructions that no one was to play with it. A few minutes later, the family saw a bright flash from the other room. Uncle B came out, looking slightly dazed.

"Did you take a picture with my camera?"

"No Grandpa, not me!"

Uncle B had been trying to take a picture, but unfortunately had the camera turned backwards. Instead of looking through the eye piece, he was looking directly into the lens. The family still laughs about the photograph of a giant blue eye that turned up when the roll was developed.

Grandpa was known for being extremely thrifty. When he took Dad to Denny's for breakfast on the weekends (always with a coupon) he would have Dad fill his pockets with butter and Boysenberry jelly. That way he had all the butter and jelly he needed for the week.

Once he asked Uncle J to wash his car for "two bits." J was thrilled at the chance to make some money, so he spent at least half a day washing, scrubbing, drying, vacuuming, and cleaning the car inside and out. When he came back inside, exhausted and proud, he was shocked when Grandpa handed him a quarter.

"What's this?"

"That's two bits."

"What???"

"A bit is 12.5 cents, so two bits is a quarter. Thanks for washing my car!"

A few Thanksgivings ago, someone snapped a photo of Grandpa sitting at the dining room table. Because of the way the sun reflected off of a picture behind him, it looked like he had a glowing angel's wing coming off of his right shoulder.

When we showed him the picture he complained, "Well I'll be darned! That always happens to me."

We laughed until he cried, and he said "When you're pegged, you're pegged!"

I think it's appropriate that Grandpa passed away on Good Friday. Good Friday is a day of mourning, but it also reminds us of the hope of resurrection in the Easter morning that is coming. We know you are in a place where there is no more pain, no more sorrow, and no more tears. We love you.

On being a baby chaser

Having a crawling baby has really changed things. A lot.

First of all, I would like to know where my easy, laid back, "good" baby went? Ever since starting to crawl, MP has entered into a state of ennui that we just can't seem to shake.

MP has an uncanny ability to crawl towards and grab the only remaining dangerous object in the entire room. I'm sure she could make a career out of this one day - human bomb-locator or something. (MP, you are not allowed to become a human bomb-locator). Then there is the inevitable tantrum when I take away whatever dangerous object she has managed to find.

"I'm sorry, but you may not eat the broken jump drive."

"I'm sorry, but you may not eat Dad's old running shoes."

She seems very out of sorts - like she can't quite wrap her mind around the fact that she can move freely through the space-time continuum.

I've never been into a schedule, but we did have a routine. Five bottles a day, three baby food jars, several cheerios, two naps, bed at 7:00, up around 6:30.

Now she seems hungry every hour and a half. And she wants to take three naps a day. And she's woken up in the middle of the night every night for the past three nights.

MP - maybe you started waking up because we did not praise you enough for your sleeping habits. Let me rectify that. YOU ARE AN AWESOME SLEEPER!!! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!!!

There. Does that placate your ego?

Don't get me wrong - I'm loving being home four days a week, but I have to go to work the other three days so that I can get a break. My back asked me this morning "Would it be alright if you didn't spend another 10 hours bent at a 90 degree angle?"

It's amazing how many things require me to be bent over. Chasing crawling baby. Pulling paper out of baby's mouth. Unloading the dishwasher. Loading the dishwasher. Sweeping up cheerios. Fastening stroller straps. Loading baby into carseat. Unloading baby from carseat (I really want a minivan. Shh. Don't tell Dad). Picking up dirty clothes. Unloading the washing machine. Unloading the dryer. Putting baby in B@by Einstein. Pulling baby out of B@by Einstein. Pushing baby in swing.

Hey - that last one. It's pretty cute. Check it out.

Joys of Daddy