One year ago today, at this time, I was sitting in a bed in the local hospital, having been brought there, by ambulance, hours earlier with the newly-hatched Eliza. I think, at this point, I was still waiting for the trailer park faction occupying the other half of the room to leave -- WHY the woman was being discharged at 10:30 p.m. I have never figured out. Eliza was still in the nursery having her body temperature and blood sugar stabilized. I think it was closer to 11 p.m., possibly a bit after, when they brought her to me.

365 days, thousands of diapers, pathetically few hours of sleep and a million smiles later, here we are: a happy family of five who wouldn't know what to do without our littlest member. I'm so glad she chose us, and she seems to feel the same, for she followed me around all day today proclaiming, "Mama. Mama." repeatedly. She has been making that sound before today but I've never really been sure if she meant me or not. There's no denying it now, though.

Happy birthday, baby Eliza. You've got my heart and all my affection (and my good nights' sleeps, but we'll talk about that some other time).

I frequently diss country music, and I like to pretend I'm scoffing at it because I'm far too urbane and sophisticated for it to appeal to me. The truth is I don't like it because, quite often, it makes me cry (or, at least, want to). If I were to listen to the local country station from, say, 9 to 5 tomorrow, there would probably be at least ten different songs that made me bawl like a baby. When I go into a business that is playing country music I tend to tune it out in case a real tearjerker comes on, so I won't make a complete fool of myself. The first time I ever heard "Austin" by Blake Shelton I was in some store or another and I had the devil of a time trying to disguise my sniffling.

Today I was in Hallmark, shopping for Webkinz for the two older kids, and I let my guard down. There was country playing and I actually focused in on what was being said, and the bastards got me again. Once I clued in what the singer was saying, there went the waterworks. I came home and looked up the lyrics to the song I heard. Here it is:

She was staring out the window of that SUV
Complaining, saying "I can't wait to turn 18"
She said "I'll make my own money, and I'll make my own rules"
Mama put the car in park out there in front of the school
Then she kissed her head and said "I was just like you"

You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're gonna miss this"

So, there you go: the real reason I hate country music. How is it those cowboys know just what to say to tug at my heartstrings? Snuff dippin', hat wearin', ugly-belt-buckle sportin' hillbillies. Gah.

(P.S., if someone could please tell me when and how I became such a sentimental fool, I'd appreciate it.)

For your entertainment we now present "The St. Patrick's Day Shirt Through the Years."

March 17, 2001:

March 17, 2004:

March 17, 2008:

(P.S. The bears tried to make a third appearance but she kept chucking them over the side of the chair.)

Keep watching later this month for the sequel, "The Baby's First Birthday Shirt Through the Years."

I went to Johnny's art show at school this morning and saw all his work. Here is a picture of him with his Matisse-inspired paper collage. The name of the piece is "First Sign 101." (He is suddenly obsessed with putting numbers after names. He was reeling off a list of things he was going to name the next Webkinz he gets and every name had some number after it. *shrug*)

Here is his tribute to Georgia O'Keefe:

All told, it was a very good show. The kids worked hard, and learned lots, as evidenced by JZ regaling me, countless times, with the list of artists they'd studied (which included one guy I'd never even heard of before). Who knows; maybe we have the next Picasso on our hands, here, and some day in the future we can look back and say, "Ah, yes, it all started with that preschool art show." Or maybe he'll just be one of those inmates that does really good drawings on the backs of the envelopes he sends to his family members, asking for money. Dude could go either way.

I thought it was supposed to go like this: when you have your first child you make the mistakes. You have the best of intentions but, once the child arrives, you have trouble following through because you hate to see your baby sad, or upset. As you add children, and experience, you come to realize that you aren't going to scar the child for life if you don't pick it up every time it makes a peep. It's easier to put your foot down and nip things in the bud before they become a problem. I thought it was supposed to be that way.....until Eliza was born. Somehow I have done things backward. I had very high standards and very strict rules with Madalyn, and I stuck to them. I knew she wouldn't die from crying and I didn't want to become her pacifier. I wanted her to be self-sufficient, and as early as possible. And it worked, by gum.

When JZ was born I probably relaxed my standards a bit, simply because he had a different personality and what worked for Madalyn wasn't necessarily going to work for him. But I held, determinedly, to much of the plan I'd had the first time around.

But then came Eliza, and I fell apart. I have turned into a giant wuss; a sentimental and emotional mess. I can't stand to hear this baby cry. Even when she's being completely unreasonable and I know there's nothing wrong with her I have this nagging mental image of her somewhere, alone and abandoned, and crying for me, and I can't ignore her. It's almost a visceral reaction; very nearly physically uncomfortable for me to hear. Why is this? Is it age and loss of patience? Exhaustion, causing inability to cope? Or has it really taken me three children to finally bond properly with one as a baby? Don't get me wrong; I do get annoyed when she's up for the third time in two hours at night, wanting me not only to pick her up but nurse her, as well, even though I know she isn't hungry. And sometimes I think, "That's it. I'm putting my foot down tonight. Enough is enough." This lasts an hour, maybe two -- an eternity of getting up every five or ten minutes, laying her back down, returning her pacifier to her, and crossing my fingers. It doesn't work -- it never does -- and she keeps getting up, reaching out her arms to me, and I, eventually, can't bring myself to keep breaking her heart. So I cave in and pick her up, even though I know I'm just enabling her. But she snuggles close to me and her little body relaxes and I think it's not so bad to be wanted.....if only I could be wanted and still get a good night's sleep.

All of this leaves me at an impasse. What to do next? Try to ride it out? I've tried that. I've been trying it for eleven months and what have I to show for it? A nearly-one-year-old baby who is still up every two hours all night long; three on a good night. I am literally impressed and excited when I wake up and realize she's slept three hours because, for us, that's doing really well. But what to do? I can't let her cry it out....I just can't. No matter how tired I am, how fed up I get, or how much I realize that she's just spoiled, I won't be able to stick it out. Do I move her crib into another room? That might help....or it might not. And, if it doesn't, then I not only have to get up every two hours all night long, I have to hike down the hall and sit on the bedroom floor to nurse her. Not much of an improvement, in my opinion. I could night-wean her. That's what made JZ finally start sleeping through the night. I just started sending Robert in to get him every time he woke up. However, I don't have that option for much of the week. I'm the only person available to take care of her. We have attempted to get something done in the few nights he's here but it's just not long enough to permanently change her habits. I am honestly beginning to think that our only relief will come when either, a) I wean her completely or, b) Robert gets a job here and is available to help me implement a plan.

Till then, I am left wondering how I turned into such a soft touch, and why it happened now instead of seven years ago, or five.