Giving thanks

Well, needless to say our cup runneth over with blessings for which to be thankful this year. It is a powerful thing to be surrounded by so much loving, supportive family on a regular basis. I am so thankful for them - our Austin bunch and our Amarillo bunch - and for our little family of 3. What a lucky bunch we all are.

This Thanksgiving was in Austin, and we had two dinners roughly 4 hours apart (but only five minutes away by car). Sometimes the families combine for one Modern Family-style Thanksgiving - mom, stepdad, dad, stepmom, all the stepsiblings, my dad's parents - but this year, with my stepdad's family all in town, we split them up. It was a great day, brimming with delicious food, gorgeous fall-ish(?) weather, families coming together peacefully and enjoying the day. It was topped off most deliciously by the Longhorns' thrilling, historic win. You'll note the burnt orange/maroon allegiances throughout these pictures (the latter being just my grandfather John).

Good gracious this child hardly slept one wink all Thanksgiving day (and woke up every hour that night, during the Texas/Texas A&M game). But she remained happy and sweet through supper #2, and lasted until 7:00 that night - a Thanksgiving miracle. I have NO idea why she couldn't sleep...

Maybe it was the 30 or so admirers she was eager to entertain?

Thanksgiving supper (sweet potatoes, green beans, yogurt + peaches) with Gigi and John:

With my stepbrother and stepsister, Sydney and Evan (notice the thumb in mouth - good indicator she is ready for a nap, usually, though I was met with stubborn protests at every attempt):

Rare blog appearance with mama:

Step-great grandmother, Audrey

Time for the Eliza show! Come see Eliza Louise, the miraculous, walking 6 month old baby!

A little post-Thanksgiving cuddle with Daddy

(check out this cool shot I got of my stepcousin and his sweet girlfriend, Amanda):

Round 2: A little love from her great grandmother Annie - note the glazed over delirium:

Football with her Johnny (his Cowboys won, but sadly his Aggies did not):

Second wind: Putting on the Eliza show again:

Happy Thanksgiving from the Millers!

In the bath

This isn't the first or the last bathtime post, but probably the last one of our little girl being bathed on the counter. Tonight she was bathed in the tub as another small milestone passes us by. What is it about babies in the tub? Something pure and sweet and innocent I just can't quite put my finger on. Pink, glistening little baby bottoms. Wet lashes. At our house, it's the happy way she blinks the water out of her eyes and stares up with anticipation. The excited wiggle, the proud splashing. How she buries her face into the towel once we've wrapped her all up. Scrumptious, all of it.

I'm pretty sure she spends all day tolerating my silly, tired antics, my "what does the monkey say?" and "wheels on the bus" for the thousandth time apiece, secretly hoping that tonight will be a Daddy bath night. Our depressing 1960s bathroom becomes a magical place come 6:00.

This picture, with water spilling over the sides, is why our freshly mopped 1960s tile floor looks dirty again by the next day. It's also why we have moved the whale tub into the big tub since these were taken.

Night night little one! Off to bed with you.

Tonight I made a few pies, which so far are not the least bit busted; actually they look pretty delicious. I went with my trusty doughboy Mr. Pilsbury as I learned my lesson (and earned my anti-Martha Stewart nickname, Busted Pie) the hard way a few Thanksgivings back. Thanksgiving, it turns out, is not the time to learn how to make pie crust from scratch. Since I otherwise don't really attempt pies, that may just be one of those things I never learn how to do properly. While the pies were a success, we do have an ambitious few days ahead as we attempt to get our house holiday-ready; I'm sure I have a few merry messes ahead of me! Happy Thanksgiving to all!

A half year

6 months - it is bittersweet. Sweet mostly; how can it not be? Bitter because the time is passing so quickly. It's a big milestone for so many reasons. You hear from the beginning that this is when you "come up for air" and feel like you could do it again (I've been warned that apparently your memory um, erases itself with the bliss of the 6 month mark and this is why suddenly lots of women find themselves with another one on the way around this time...true story). I believe it. It just gets better from about 4 months on.

Today, Eliza wears her great GrandMary's (Nicholas' late paternal grandmother) beautiful Nannette dress. It is from 1924 - 87 years old, people - and in pristine condition. Thank you, Aunt Karin, Miller family historian, for lovingly preserving it. It goes without saying at this point that this baby's mother has a terrible weakness for timeless, vintage pieces passed down through the generations...but this dress really is too much. And blue! And with tiny, white crocheted buttons! I about died when I saw it.

6 months to the day and we have an unsupported sitter on our hands. Oh she thinks she is something special now. She still wants to walk everywhere though (with our assistance, por favor); I don't know how normal this is. Stiffens her legs and is annoyed by our attempts to make her sit. Will stand and walk all day long. Little E. seems anxious to get a move on, and perhaps even a little frustrated by the sitting. Determined, opinionated, happy and I know I say it incessantly, but so darn precious. I'm sorry. It's the mama mush brain. I will try harder.

She eats everything with gusto; primarily food. We try to keep other random stuff out of her mouth but she would eat that too if we let her. Finally, finally, goes down for a nap with minimal fuss. Still sleeps like a champ (except when traveling…). She loves books, especially the corners which are the most delicious parts of books. And Madeline Loves Animals, which seems to be casting a particular spell over her these days.

Teeth are on their way, we think. Hair is there - it's fuzzy and fair (I'm a poet and I didn't know it). Talking up a storm - lately it's "ma ma ma ma" all the livelong day. Ma ma ma loves this. I pretend she is calling my name, but really it's just jibberish (or is it?).

She plays peek-a-boo and clings to us when carried; an active participant in all we do. Reaching, grabbing for everything, particularly dinner knives, full cups of whatever, anything that crinkles, shines, looks un-babytoylike and exciting. Curious little monkey. We are about to get a run for our money, I fear.

We are still nursing and I have to say, this is a big thing for mama. Short of childbirth and well, the little lady you see splashed in excess all across this blog, it is my biggest accomplishment these past 6 months. They say you should try if you can to nurse to six months. Who says? I don't know...EVERYONE. The pressure to keep nursing is intense. I am proud of this because it was so, so hard in the beginning, us both sick, my supply in the tank, starting to supplement with formula, me wanting to throw that stupid pump, attached every 2-3 hours around the clock, as far as I could throw it- but we stuck with it. I initially gave it two months, tops. Then four months. And here we are! It did get easier. Not overnight. Lots and lots and LOTS of beating myself up over it - but I do love it now.

My thoughts on breastfeeding, the campaign for breastfeeding, etc. etc. have evolved too. Of course, I think it's a wonderful thing to do and encourage; just wondering if we could stop shaming the mothers, like me, who have to give their baby formula for them to survive? Isn't there enough mama guilt to go around? Lord have mercy. So, here is where I stop beating myself up about my sad supply that never seemed to quite come in like it should. I'm going to pat myself on the back instead. We made it to six months - half formula, half nursing, whole healthy baby. Hurrah.

Looking back and reflecting, there's a lot I'd say to myself six months ago. There may be a few posts to come on that as so many friends seem to be heading down that road soon, and I feel like I keep getting the "what do you wish you had known" question. Becoming a mother is the weirdest, most magical, most surreal process. It's certainly something we've been doing since the beginning of time, and so much of this is terribly ordinary, universal, boring I realize. But it's new to me, and I've loved sharing it here, good and bad. I am well aware it's tirelessly verbose, gushy, heavy on too many of the same sort of picture. I'll try to work on that aspect too - but not today, (obviously). So whatever your reason for coming back, and it seems many of you are, I'm glad you are enjoying it too. We are blessed beyond measure by our little miss. A half year watching a baby grow with your husband, your families, your friends - it is the best kind of half-year one can ask for. Darling Eliza, we love you more than words can ever say. Hallelujah for the sixth month!

No words

They'll make a liar out of you

Whew! And, we're back. The hiatus was due to my brain completely shutting down as I got ready for the crazy week we just had - flying solo with E., two weddings in two places in two days, three nights with a sitter, bouncing all around Texas, our first night away from the baby - to celebrate some of our nearest and dearest family and friends. Of course I carved out prime real estate in my diaper bag for my huge camera, but only managed to take pictures for about an hour the entire time we were there. Sigh.

These are a few from a breezy afternoon at her Cita and Daddy Jack's house. She had a precious coat and bonnet to go with this dress for the wedding we attended, but the weather was so pleasant the afternoon of the wedding that she didn't need it.

Leg #1 was to celebrate Miller's first cousin Ben and his bride Amanda, who were getting married in an intimate ceremony at Nicholas' family's ranch in Amarillo on Friday, 11.11.11 (at 11 a.m., naturally). The wedding was gorgeous, the bride staggeringly beautiful, the groom grinning ear to ear, the weather absolutely perfect. The baby was, well...a little less angelic than I'd hoped she'd be. Just when you think you've got them figured out, it turns out, you don't! As my mom says, babies always make a liar out of you (these pictures are a great example - you'd never know she had such a hard time!).

It wasn't her fault of course; for whatever reason, be it her finnicky age, being in a new place, the higher altitude, or perhaps her less than adept mother, she was just so unsettled and had a terrible time sleeping/napping soundly while we were there. "She sleeps through the night," I said. "She should be fine, she just ate," I would assure them. Ha. Not so much. It seemed like every time I was optimistic she would be ok - to watch the ceremony, go out for a rare girls' night, take a quick bath for heaven's sake - she cried. Nothing makes you feel like a terrible mother more than a baby you don't seem to have a handle on. And well, maybe I just didn't. I had flown up early with her hoping to give her some extra time with her grandparents, and letting her settle in to avoid pushing her too hard, but I think we probably did, and I felt so badly for her. I'm not sure what we would have done differently, but it still felt like a big fat FAIL in mothering. I know new situations are good for her adaptability, blah blah blah. But it doesn't mean it's easy, and there were a few times I wanted to melt down with her. Wahhhh!

Lest you think it had disappeared...here's the lip out in not quite full force.

She was very good on the flights, but the overarching theme and topic of conversation of our Amarillo leg seemed to be what a fussy, inconsolable baby Eliza was. I swear, she isn't! Most of the time she looks like this. Mama guilt abounds.

I'm quite sure my anxiety over her not sleeping just made it worse, but it was distressing knowing our first night away from her was looming, and I was a wreck come Saturday at 5 a.m. We were headed back to Austin to drop our unsettled baby off with my mom for 24 hours. We had a reservation at the Driskill (where we had our reception 4 years ago) for the wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends, Martha and her groom Tim. If we could have, I would have bailed on the hotel room and gone home that night. But thankfully, Eliza did beautifully by all accounts, which was such a relief - so much so that we stretched the next morning into a delicious, leisurely brunch. The wedding was moving and elegant, sweet Martha never more stunning; it ended up being such a great night and much-needed little getaway for us both.

Anyway, I was pathetically guilt-ridden about putting her through so much, but there was no way we could choose between them as both couples meant a lot to us. Little Lizzy Lou seems to have survived the whole thing unscathed, unsurprisingly...though I think her mama will take a few more days to recover! She did love seeing her Aunties and her grandparents - maybe so much so that she just never wanted to sleep.

This weekend was my "onramp" to the holidays, as my mom calls it. As soon as it was over, it was time to start thinking about making a few busted pies for our two Thanksgivings, and get going on the many different lists for Christmas. I love the holidays. I'm sure, like our little wedding adventure, it will be a whole new experience with a baby in the mix, but I can hardly wait! Ho ho ho!