gearing up for the new year

and celebrating her first new year's eve with some bacon, lettuce, tomatoes and Peroni. It's all that her parents are able to muster after the Christmas celebration, a week of general maneuvering around the broken down car, a very intense afternoon parental discussion and five and a half hours of driving from grocery to grocery and fish monger to fish monger in search of red fish, which is apparently only available fresh if you live in Louisiana or Mississippi. (What??? says Mama.)

In reality, it was only two and a half hours, but what with the screams of the unhappy baby coming from the backseat, it felt like longer. And certainly, judging from the intensity of those screams, it must've felt like a lot longer to the baby, too.

It's been a big week for our bitty little bun, and she's held up like a champ. She was completely patient with her Christmas Eve dress (and matching bloomers) and managed to make it through the wonderful Christmas Eve service of Lessons & Carols with no fuss. She took a leisurely view of her first Christmas morning and slept through the majority of present time, which due to a different time table, stretched into her morning 'nap'.

In honor of our dear little Isla, we decorated her first Christmas tree with a variety of handmade tartan roses. Though the tree looked pretty, Isla seemed to notice only the lights. Her favorite ones were the multi-colored blinking ones Mama stashed in a clear vase as a pseudo baby-sitter while she was trying to accomplish a few tasks (without dangling the baby) one day.

It's hard to believe that she's experiencing her first holiday season. It's hard to believe how quickly it's passed us. It's hard to believe that in a few, short hours, the year that saw her birth will be over, and a new one will begin in its place. It's hard to think about how much time has already gone by, how quickly the days move, how speedily she grows. We will wake up tomorrow in two-thousand-something, and our sweet, tiny baby girl will be grown.

Our sweet, Christmas morning Isla...

24 weeks old

It's been a big month so far, and we're only a couple weeks in. This month Isla had her first bottle. She also got her first cold, and had her first 'emergency' trip to the doctor's. And she narrowly survived her first attempted-escape from her bouncy seat. She's doing great, the aforementioned incidents not withstanding, and we-the-family continue to press on as a foursome.

Her last non-life-threatening visit to the pediatrician had her weighing in at a sweet fourteen pounds and measuring 26 inches long, head to heel. She took her shots in the same manner that would any sane person experiencing the quick stabs of four back-to-back injections (including the one the nurse precedes with, 'this is the one that really, really burns') - she took a deep, shocked breath in and let it out in screams that did not subside until her tiny face was completely crimson. And who would blame her?

The curious incident of the baby and her bouncy seat took place while her tired mother was attempting to get a fast shower. Bun-baby waited until her mother was good and sudsy and then somehow managed to propel/throw/stretch/otherwise maneuver herself over the side of her bouncy chair. Which would've been bad enough, but like all the instructions say, mama had strapped that baby into the chair with the 3 point harness. So the baby, though partially out of the chair she apparently detests, was not completely free. She was instead, dangling by that 3 point safety harness with her head either on or very near the hard, cold, tile floor.

Her mother is not sure if her head actually hit the floor, or if she was just dangling there, because when she poked her head out of the shower to see why the baby was crying, her first thought (and spoken word) was, 'oh, crap!' and she bounded out of the shower, soap and all to rescue the small, unhappy child. And who would blame her for crying, what with her top-heavy body hanging, rag doll like over the edge of the metal and plastic frame, and her own inability to lift/pull/stretch/ or otherwise maneuver herself back into the hated chair? Not to mention how awful the safety harness must've felt around her poor little abdomen.

All that, and the not-to-be-detailed blood spitting incident leads us to today, where the sweet, mostly happy Bun is learning to stand (entirely too early for the likings of we-the-parents). She loves her big sister, and is possibly cutting some teeth. She still loves music and loves being held. We-the-family love holding her.