Terrifically, choo-choo train-tastically two

Julian turned 2 today! Hard to imagine the condition we all were in two years ago this moment. Our new, still-red wee baby was either feeling he way around a chest in route to a nipple or sleeping, wrapped up like a caterpillar in spring. Ian, Julian and I were alone in the hospital room, watching Patrick Swayze in Red Dawn (I'd never seen it before.), remarkably unfazed by what we'd been through the previous 48 hours.



Fast forward two years. He's still sucking his thumb. We're still wiping his butt after mega poop blowouts. He still finds comfort in the arms of his parents.



But now he's a healthy 2-year-old who loves to run in circles and climb up stairs and crawl on top of bar stools. He'll have what you're having, even if it's a spicy hot habanero brownie from Butters Brownies. He wants to know what you're doing. He copies you, even when you wish he wouldn't. (The F-word has entered his lexicon, but it's just so darn cute when he uses it in context...)



His silliness helps us through the long winter nights at home, when we can't cook without our "counter bird" sitting besides us and bath time turns to bubbly turtle time. He urges us out of bed every morning "Come on, mommy. Chonies, here." He uses words like "chonie" (underpants) and jokes (Knock, knock. Who's there? Chicken pumpkin pizza!) that he gets at school. His amigos are becoming an important part of his life. He tells us when Judy smashes her finger or when they have beans or apples for lunch.

I wonder if parents ever get used to watching their children grow up before their very eyes.

Birthdays and cupcakes

My dear friend Meghan celebrated a birthday just a few days after mine, and we had a cupcake party! Julian had an awesome time, and I took this accidental (and awesome, despite the phone camera quality) feet picture! You can see how creative we got with the cupcake decorating!

Happy Birthday, Chelsea!

My sister and mom at Mangia Pizza
just a few days after the wedding last month.

My dear sister Chelsea is celebrating a birthday today. Happy birthday, sis! She's in such a great place in her life, graduating from college, getting her first teaching job, wrangling all these kids in her youth group, keeping a happy marriage with husband Kenny. I'm so blessed to have her. She was the mastermind behind decorations at the wedding, and she did an awesome job. She's as capable as decorator as a teacher, in my mind. :)

Love you, Chelsabels!

Things worth looking forward to

What a week! With the What Not to Wear show coming up on Friday, things have been picking up around here. I've been working on an article for Thursday's newspaper, talking to the three other contributors from the Austin area, doing interviews for the Aurora and Springfield newspapers, and, of course, taking in some South by Southwest. We also squeezed in a trip to Fort Worth yesterday and today for Ian's birthday. Whew. Makes me tired just recalling, but it's been an awesome week.

Has anyone else caught the What Not to Wear preview?? My in-laws saw it Friday night and I saw it yesterday afternoon. It seems like TLC is running it about every hour. It's just a snippet of clips from my ambush and when they trashed my closet, including a sound bit of Stacy telling me I'm being more like "Raggedy Addie."

It's so surreal to see myself on TV. It almost doesn't seem like it's me. It seems like some body double, who happens to sound and act like me. So, it's concrete now: Friday, March 21, 8 p.m. central.

I have to work this afternoon (always on the go, go, go, you know), but a small piece of wonderfulness from our trip to visit Ian's family yesterday.

He has a 5-year-old niece, Jenna, a sweet, sweet child who loves life and those around her. We love going up there to play in the backyard with her and her 2-year-old brother, Michael. We were talking about birthdays yesterday (Ian's been thinking about it a lot with the big 3-6 coming up tomorrow) and I asked her what she thought was the best age. "Five," she said. "Cause you can do stuff when you're a kid that you can't do when you're an adult."

Oh, I share that sentiment when I look at a set of monkey bars and wonder how the hell I ever swung all the way across them. But I think it's cooler that she loves the age she's at. Despite all the toys, the Hello Kitty, the Bratz, the television characters, she still loves where she's at, not where she's going. Something we can all strive for, no matter if we're facing 6 or 36 or 66.

Exiting the recovery zone

I haven't posted much on what Julian's turning one has meant for me. It's been a few weeks since the big day, which really wasn't that big of deal. I didn't expect any revelations to come immediately, but a few have come in the time since.

I feel like the first year of Julian was a recovery zone. Maybe it was the C-section that really knocked me off guard physically for the first couple of months. Or maybe all mothers feel this. Everything was off because everything was new. The first few (dozen?) times you go to the grocery store with the baby, it's a strange adventure. Same with going to visit your parents or friends. It's easily six months before the things you did before feel remotely "normal" but even then, it seems a vaguely familiar version of your pre-baby life. I think it took even more months for life with Julian to feel as natural as life without him did. I mean, we're still working on that, but it's leaps and bounds better than even just a few months ago.

The interrupted sleep I think really starts to get to you, too. And Julian is truly an all-star sleeper! I can't imagine what some of my mommy friends are going through with babies still waking up all night. It can really screw with your head. Just like the whiny, pick-me-up cry that Ian still cringes at. And I had my own aches and pains post delivery; I can only imagine the aches and pains that lingered for some of my fellow mommies.

It doesn't take a scientist to tell you that babies are so adorable, especially to their parents, because it makes them harder to resent for making life so difficult at times. But cuteness aside, there's something so intrinsically gratifying about raising Julian that makes all of the hardships easier. I tried to describe it to some of the What Not to Wear crew members who are contemplating babies, all of whom were over 30 and looking at my 24-year-old self like I was a nut for having a kid "so early." But they just didn't get it. Moving to Brooklyn, giving up their Manhattan lifestyle were foremost on their minds. I tried to delicately tell them that post-baby, those concerns that seem like such monumental hurdles to parenthood become insignificant.

It sounds like I had an awful first year of motherhood, doesn't it? Being on the other side of baby's first year is just allowing me to be really honest with myself about how difficult it was. It's still challenging, don't get me wrong, but that year, that recovery zone, is just now starting to fade. I'm starting to be able to do more things for myself that I didn't feel I could last year. I'm taking some online classes, planning a family vacation and a wedding, renewing my passion for running, thinking about joining a fall softball league. Ian is, too. He's getting down and dirty with this recording unit to finish the album he started. He's able to juggle Julian and his own wants and desires a little better. We're both in consistently better moods despite the wrenches Julian may throw in our plans.

But no one could have told me about that year, just like no one can really tell me about the years to come. You have to live it for yourself to really understand it. Religious folks all my life have talked and talked and talked until they are blue in the face about faith. And if I go on and on about the topic of faith here, I will join them. Suffice it to say that having Julian has solidified my belief that faith is an action that others do not have right to doubt. We all have brains and ambition and instinct. So when Ricci volunteers in Senegal, my best friend from high school remarries a year after she divorces, the Shelton family prepares to welcome a wee brother or sister for Julian's baby friend Adeline and BAT picks up her life in Austin and moves to the sure-to-be-fabulous Steamboat Springs, Colo., wish them well. Acknowledge that they are living the life they intend.

I'd like to think that's what we're all trying to do here.

Statesman blog and birthday preview

So it begins.

I leave for New York on Sunday to finish filming the rest of the What Not to Wear episode. The Statesman is going to let me do all kinds of cool stuff while I'm there, including updating The Goods, the newspaper's fashion blog. To get things rolling, fashion writer Marques Harper and I sat down for a visit (and video) last week.


In the next few days, I'll start transitioning any What Not to Wear posts to a statesman.com blog, but I'll post a link up here.

In the mean time, we've got a first birthday to celebrate! Just think, one year ago today, I went from walking around H-E-B with my mom, who'd just arrive from Missouri after I called her and told her to fly down once they'd popped one of my bags of water, to moaning and groaning in a freezing ass cold (well, it was lukewarm, but it had the same effect) tub, wishing my lighthearted demeanor of early labor could somehow magically return.

In perfect world, we'd be celebrating today, January 24, as Julian's birthday. A day(ish) of intense, yet progressing labor at the well-lit and deceptively welcoming birthing center. (That's right, Jean Stokes, I'm talking to you. Next time you stick castor oil in my pocket on the way out the door to try to kick start labor, I'll open the bottle and pour it on your head. And I'll roll my eyes when you point to the gigantic jacuzzi and tell me there will be an ambulance on call, "just in case." Oh wait, there won't be a next time with you.) Alas, Julian wasn't quite ready to enter the world. He turned his little body face out and got himself stuck.

It was a good thing he waited, though. The hospital the following day was a blessing. If we'd have gone through with the "perfect" labor I'd imagined, we wouldn't have had the help of all those nice nurses at St. David's. And I wouldn't have this happy face scar on my belly to remind me of how much joy he brings to this world.

Julian's early birthday presents

LaVonne, Ian's mom, came down for a classic grandma-spoils-baby-for-first-birthday trip right before all the TV madness began. Julian and I met her at IKEA (she and husband Dan live in Waco), and we had the best time shopping for a new bed, among other things, for Julian. We found a converter bed that he can use as a crib now but that we can change into a toddler bed when he's ready. And of course, we had to find the cutest comforter/sheet set they had as well as a few toys. Don't forget the sultan mattress for the little prince to sleep on. Oh, and a milk whipper for mommy's coffee and a few of her favorite Swedish meatballs. :) I know everybody says this, but, man, IKEA is so awesome! I could buy out the place, if I had the space.

(Speaking of IKEA, one of the style writers at the paper turned me on to this guy who's been living in IKEA for a week while his NYC apartment is fumigated. Mark Malkoff is his name, and he's the guy who visited all 171 Starbucks in Manhattan in one day last year. He's been posting videos he's been making while staying at a New Jersey store.)

Grandma also bestowed upon our wee royalty the coolest car seat. It's seriously like a throne in a car. Mommy wants one of those, too!

We had such a good time that day. For those of you who remember a few of the mother-in-law figures I've butted heads with in the past (let's be honest here, there was only one), I'm as pleasantly surprised as you to know a mother-in-law and I could get along so well.

Aren't they sweet?

To Ruby, From Julian

Dear Ruby,
Today is your first birthday. From this day a year ago, you became the older woman in my life (besides my mom, I guess), showing me the way. Sitting up, crawling, now walking and playing with the cats. You've been so fun to play with all this year, even when we were just wee babies just sitting and looking at each other. Good thing you have such a beautiful smile. Your mom and dad have done such a good job evolving and changing as you do. Even Raja and Sasha are adapting to the world now that Ruby's in it. (Now, if only you could show me one more time how to pet the animals softly. I keep forgetting when Shiva's around.) You are so much fun to play with. You always have great ideas for new games for us to play, and you're so quick and strong to push me in that fun little Pooh cart. And you are so good at sharing your snacks with me. I can't wait until we we're big enough to bake each other birthday cakes! Won't that be awesome?

I'm so lucky to have you as my friend, Ruby. Thanks for not being mad at me after all those times I grabbed your eyes and chewed on your favorite toy snake. Thanks for sharing your diapers, your crib, your high chair and your lovely parents. I just don't know what I would have done without you this year!

Love always,
Julian

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Erin Eve

I forgot to mention last week that La Tomatina was happening. It's this huge tomato fight in Bunol, just outside Valencia in Southern Spain. A big mess. A lot of crazy drunk travelers. Too much fun to capture in a few sentences here. Of course, had no camera, but these photos will have to do for now. I'm working on a gallery of my photos  from Europe, so keep your eyes peeled for it in the photo galleries section.

Dear friend Erin, an Eve, celebrated a birthday this week. Here are 5 Things about you, guapa, that I love:

1) Your kookiness. I'll never forget the dancing Britney that helped Rachel and I through our finals studying or the pigeon dance at the Murcia festival pigout. And, don't forget, it was her idea to streak on the beaches of Playa Postiguet in Alicante on Leap Day 2004.

2) Your fashion sense (and willingness to share!). Every time I get a compliment on my earrings, I have to explain that they aren't mine, they are really my cool, very fashionable friend Erin's and that she gave them to me when she was tired of them. Same with belts. And scarves, but Ian gets those now ;).

3) Your blog. Did I mention that Erin is an awesome keeper of tabs on what is hip and cool online? For instance, she led me to this site, where I took a test to figure out what my personal DNA is. (Benevolent leader. Anyone surprised?)

Benevolent Leader

4) Your questions. Erin has no fear to ask the tough questions as a way to call you out on your shit, or at least call you out to further explain something. This scares most people. This makes me love her.

5) Your fearlessness. Erin went to Spain without the protection of a university study abroad program. She went just because. She moved to Miami on super short notice to go to a prestigise ad/marketing school. For the past few weeks, she's been making her way in New York, meeting more people and doing more things than most would hope to in a year. She acts and reacts with aplomb.

For these reasons and many more, Erin is and will always be one of my Eves. Happy birthday, Erin!

And these are the days of our lives

The sand is falling too quickly in the hourglass! Julian seems like such a little boy now, interacting with us, doing his own baby talk, standing up more and more. Ian captured this great video (see the end of this entry) of him pulling up in his crib yesterday. I can't tell who's prouder, Julian or his parents (and grandparents!).

Speaking of, my dad just celebrated his birthday. His present will be coming next month when we go to Missouri for a visit, but for now, the inagural 5 Things birthday list. (p.s., if it's your birthday and I don't make a list for you, please don't be mad.

My mind is pretty full lately and we all know that pregnancy brain is slow to recover... )

1. I know it's bad for him, but I love the smell of my dad's pipe tobacco wafting out of the garage or blowing out the window on an early morning car ride.

2. I love my dad on the telephone. He knows exactly how long to visit and what to visit about.

3. I love that my dad is such a great example of a leader for everyone in our family, the Cooks, the Welches, the Gonzalezes, everyone. He is the definition of patriarch (in a good way, not the neofeminist, crazy way).

4. My dad has got some crazy zen going, even though I doubt he even realized it for a long time. He's always strived to keep a balance between work and play, duty to others and self-fulfillment. He's the wise man that everyone goes to for advice, for good reason.

5. I love how passionate he is, and how animated he becomes, when he starts talking about something he loves. Music, canoeing, books, Julian, adventures, the yard, Days of our Lives (shhhh, don't tell anyone), his job and (most importantly) my mom.

Happy birthday, Dad!

(see video with this post at http://www.addiebroyles.com/babyblogjunethroughseptember07.html)

My almost birthday

July has always been my favorite month. Fourth of July is pretty much a guaranteed good time, even if it rains. Cicadas are in full force. Swimming holes are especially inviting. Lush greenery engulfs buildings, sidewalks and roads. But I like July mostly because my birthday falls in its middle. I’ve always loved my birthday and feel quite possessive of it. I imagine this is a shared emotion, except for you birthday-haters out there. I haven’t met too many of you that are down on your birthday just like I haven’t met too many people who have my birthday (or, whose birthday I have, depending on how you look at it).
I’m very aware that this is the first year I’ll see that Troy didn’t. I’m also aware that this is my first birthday as a mother, a fact that seemed to interest Ian more than me until just recently. My first birthday as a mother, who very recently experienced the birth day of her first child. But unlike birthdays from age 3 or so on, baby J won’t remember a second of it. I, on the other hand, can still feel most of the agonizing seconds of January 25.

Birthdays are such a nice way to celebrate people, but maybe they should also be a day to celebrate their mothers. It’s almost as if mothers, when celebrating the day of their children’s birth, are also quietly celebrating themselves. For the nine months they watched what they ate not to lose weight but to gain it in order to sustain, carry and eventually bear the child. For the hours and hours of what is widely accepted to be one of the most painful physical human experiences. For the months they were dedicated to being a human milk machine. Then for the years of making all of life’s boo-boos better and guiding this once wee thing into a well-rounded, caring, responsible and loving adult.

I’m still in the milk machine part of that equation, but I can imagine that in the future, when January 25 rolls around, I will be celebrating Julian, but I’ll also be celebrating me, probably more so than on my own actual birthday. Being a mother is really one of the biggest lessons in selflessness. Your kid really becomes more important than everything else. Even, most days, the all-important you. Now, don’t start sending me emails about how important it is to take time for me and don’t take care of others are my expense and all those other things we have to remind mothers who become slaves to their families. It is almost needless to say that I’ll always have a self-centered streak in me (just ask Ian if I’ve lost the ability to put myself first when needed), but being a mom has severely toned that down, for the better if I may say so myself. I am no longer the center of the universe. I’ve had to make room for others, and I love the company. But thank you all for making me feel like a queen, right now. And if you really want brownie points, email my mom and remind her that it’s also a day to celebrate her.