Babys First Year Blog
After a post about bikinis and why I won’t be buying my daughter one over at Babble Kids, I’m learning that the word “modesty” has a broader range of meaning to people than any other word I can think of when it comes to parenting. Accusations have been made about me attempting to control her, assumptions have been made about teenage rebellion and jabs have been made about my modest faith.
*shugs*
I’m doing the best I can to raise my daughter with an open mind and self respect, and to me that doesn’t include a seven year old wearing tiny two piece bathing suits.
Which brings me to the modesty of babies, wondering if people are as passionate about the topic, I’m certainly not. My stance is that as soon as a child is old enough to take on and off a shirt they should be photographed in one (well, aside from those super secret back of the family album blackmail photos.) Will I ever put my baby in a bikini? Nope. But it’s not for the same reasons I won’t put my seven year old in one.
I’ll admit that when it came time to pack for a baby to travel to the beach for the first time in the middle of February from chilly Indiana I began by over packing. It was supposed to be kind of cold. But warmer than it was here. We’d be at the beach, only it might rain. We’d be swimming and sightseeing indoors and out…I had to be prepared! I pared things down a bit and as I unpacked her suitcase when we got back I realized that I over packed but I certainly wasn’t under prepared.
There were a few things that proved to be invaluable on our trip and for anyone about to travel with a baby (even if it’s not to a beach.)
If you’ll be spending any time outdoors with a baby in any season, these are what we loved on our trip.
Through Facebook I have been able to keep up on a lot of people I wouldn’t otherwise come in contact with. I do better at keeping up with my neighbor three blocks down through Facebook than I do in real life. While that isn’t the case with all of my friends, life gets in the way sometimes and an electronic connection is better than none at all some days. I’ve watched some of my friends from Kindergarten go on to act on Broadway and star in an independent artsy film. I’ve watched others graduate with honors from prestigious schools all over the country and then move back home and marry the most annoying boy from second grade. We all have our Facebook stories of reuniting and ridiculousness, but tonight I have a story of perspective, hope and faith.
All of Vivi’s seventh week in 2012 was spent in Florida. Mostly sunny, totally humid, and relatively warm Florida. We learned that Vivi is a happy baby no matter where she is as long as she has a nap and her big sister and that babies make horrible roommates. While she refused to touch the sand our first day, by day 3 she was trying to eat it. We had a lovely time, will go back again and will always remember the week we spent in the sand on the sun while most of our friends were freezing in the snow.
One of Vivi’s favorite pastimes in the car is playing with her lips. She’ll hum or sing while playing with her mouth, sometimes with one finger, sometimes with two and sometimes she uses her whole hand, wrist included. We all laugh after we figure out that the goofy little sound coming from the car is the goofy little baby in the rear facing car seat, she just looks back at us as if to say “What? I don’t have much else to be doing back here.”
Thankfully we can recreate that same magical sound with her little singing lips. Addie has her own way of doing it, she pushes up on her chin as she sings. I prefer to pinch her cheeks in and out. Cody? He’s traditional. He just moves his finger up and down producing a little song with no name that every parent knows.
With Valentine’s come and gone, I feel as though we really didn’t get a chance to get all ooey-gooey over each others existence. It could be that we’re sharing a room with a giant noisy baby or that we’re hundreds of miles from a babysitter we trust so we can’t go out on a little date while we’re down here in Florida. It could also be that we’ve been floating around in a chlorine induced haze and have found sand in every crevice of our being, leaving us so happily exhausted at the end of the day that we’re unable to form coherent sentences about how much we love each other.
On Tuesday, Facebook was filled with instagram photos of Tiffany boxes, jewelry, roses and updates on romantic dinners and breakfast in bed. I got to be here with you and these two little people we made…eating ice cream in 92% humidity as our arm hairs curled from the heavy moisture in the air.
And then this happened…
When Vivi was tiny she roomed in with us in a bassinet. My husband couldn’t wait to boot her to her own room because he claimed he woke her up every time he got up to pee. (Apparently my solution of “HOLD IT” wasn’t acceptable to him.) I was distraught at the thought of having my baby all the way down the hall and across the loft from me, she was so tiny! Her crib was so big! When Vivi was just over three months old Cody got his wish, the baby was booted to her own bed and as much as I don’t admit it, I liked having my room back to ourselves. She’s done really well in her own bed and the rocking chair in there is far more comfortable.
Now here we are six months later and we’re back to shacking up with the baby in our little hotel room and I’m coming to realize babies make horrible roommates.
Lauren Hartmann 
Arianne Segerman 
Emily Elling 
Crissy Page 
Ali Smith 
Meredith Carroll 
Emily Malone 
Danielle Elwood 
Molly Thornberg 
Selena Burgess 
Melissa Jordan 
Casey Mullins 
Roni Noone 
Madeline Petersen 
The Walt Disney Company supports Babble as a platform dedicated to honest, engaged, informed, intelligent and open conversation about parenting. However, the opinions expressed on this site are those of individual parents/writers and do not reflect the views of Disney. In addition, content provided on this site is for entertainment or informational purposes only and should not be construed as medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, or safety advice.
8