The Frankie wears many hats

... literally.

Frank and I love playing dress-up with his mini-me, and we went a little overboard in purchasing hats for the fall and winter. It helps that Old Navy has the greatest selection of baby hats imaginable, and that Frank's younger brother works there and lets us know about all their great deals.

First we have what Frank calls the "little Gilbert" duffer cap (our family is a bit Anne of Green Gables-obsessed):

Frankie wears this hat to church (but not IN church) and for sunny walks around the neighborhood.

My favorite memory with this hat (so far) is the time Frankie and I were walking with some friends through Bridgeport and we spotted an elderly gentleman sitting on his front stoop... wearing the exact same duffer cap as my baby. It was awesome. When he saw Frankie, the grin on that old man's face was a mile wide.

Next we have Frankie's "trapper hat" aka "bear cub hat." I like to call it his Davy Crockett hat, but Frank insists that doesn't work since it's not a coonskin cap. Whatever, he totally looks like a snuggly little mountain man to me. When he wears this hat, I like to sing the Davy Crockett song with Frankie's name subbed in: "Frankie, Frankie Barber! King of the wild frontier!" (you know the one?)

My favorite memory with this hat (so far) is the time Frankie wore it when we went on a tour of Lakefront Brewery in Milwaukee. All of these tipsy frat boys were coming up to us yelling, "Dude! Awesome hat!!" It cracked me up. I also loved when the tour guide asked, "Is this baby's first brewery tour??" and Frank and I responded, "No... it's his second." We were a little proud of ourselves, not gonna lie.

And last but not least, we have Frankie's pumpkin hat. 

This one is his newest—Frank just bought it for him when we were in NJ over the weekend—but it already has sentimental value for a couple of reasons.

When Frankie was a tiny infant, about six weeks old, the very first time Frank made him laugh was by calling him "pumpkin." It was the cutest thing—Frank would give him this big grin and say, "Heyyy pumpkin!" and tiny Frankie would giggle and giggle. To this day, "pumpkin" is Frank's special nickname for him that always makes him laugh, so of course when Frank saw this pumpkin hat he had to buy it.

Also, back when Frank and I were engaged and living in Virginia, every Sunday at church we used to do "baby spotting" of the little ones sitting near us. We would always point out the cutest babies to each other and daydream about having a baby of our own someday. In particular, we always noticed this one baby boy who we dubbed "the pumpkin." His mother always wore him in a sling so that just his little head was visible, and since he had very chubby cheeks and bright orange hair, he did in fact look just like a little pumpkin. It's fun to remember those days now that we have a chubby-cheeked "pumpkin" of our own.

p.s. Happy feast of St. Teresa of Avila—my patron saint—today!

Hitting pause for just a minute

This child. You are the light of my life and the joy of my heart, I whisper to him at least once a day. His father and I both dote on him absurdly. There are no words to describe the love and the happiness he brings us.

He turned five months old last Friday, and his latest nicknames are "Energizer Frankie" (bestowed by one of my mom friends after she witnessed him bouncing and kicking in great good humor until nearly 11 p.m. at an ND game watch) and "Tigger" (we sing him the Tigger song a lot, subbing in "The wonderful thing about Frankies..."). He is a high-energy baby, that's for sure. Everyone who sees him comments on it—that, and how big he is. Random elderly gentlemen at church or Sox games will ask his age and then say, "He's going to play linebacker for the Bears some day!" Yes, he's a big little guy, we know. Even though I clearly had nothing to do with his size, I can't help but beam with pride when people comment on it. One of my mom friends who also struggled to get started with breastfeeding said the other day, "I can't help but feel so proud when people comment on how big and strong my baby is—I almost feel like Almanzo Wilder exhibiting his prize pumpkin that he worked so hard to grow!" That cracked me up, since I must admit I sometimes feel the same way!

Here are some of my favorite things about my boy at five months:

He is very grabby these days, and curious about everything, so we have to make sure that our plates and glasses are far out of his reach when we're holding him at the table—but when I give him his own little glass, or hold up my water glass to his lips, all he wants to do is gnaw on the rim.

We've got a nice little bedtime routine going for him—Frank reads him some bedtime stories, and then I come in when he's good and tired to nurse him to sleep. While nursing in bed, he is constantly moving the arm he's not lying on—waving it in the air, grabbing onto my shirt, stroking my arm. It makes me laugh to see him, almost completely asleep, waving that little arm in the air. When he grabs my arm or face, as he likes to do, I melt.

He gets very bored during diaper changes and spends the whole time trying to roll over or twist backwards to examine whatever is near his head. We try to distract him with toys (like his pacifier, which he doesn't suck on but regards as a fascinating artifact, carefully examining it and then gnawing on the handle), but that lasts about 5 seconds before he is back to trying to roll over again.

I try to memorize his darling, perfect little body—his unbelievably soft and warm little fingers, his comically long toes and comically large thumbs, the fine fair hair on his little head. Every inch of him is unutterably precious.

His very favorite thing to do is, with our help, to stand up—on our laps, on the bed, on the table, on the floor—and he will support himself on his legs for an incredibly long time, occasionally bouncing up and down (hence "Tigger") or doing "squats". He loves standing so much that, when he's disgruntled, I ask him, "Do you need to stand it out?" and then I let him stand for a while and he gets happy again.

He is so close to sitting up. We can see it. He loves when he's lying on his back and we let him grab onto our thumbs so he can pull himself up to a sitting and then a standing position. He has great head control and lately has been trying so hard to sit up on his own, lifting his head and neck in a mini-crunch, but he's not quite there yet. His fine motor skills are getting better and it's interesting to watch him carefully manipulate his toys with his fingers, when just a few weeks ago he could only bat at them.

Yesterday I heard him waking up from his nap, so I went in to get him and found him enthusiastically trying to latch onto a pillow. I started laughing at the sight of him, whereupon he turned to look at me and, on seeing me laugh, started laughing loudly too. We stood there laughing at each other for a good 30 seconds. He always likes to be "in on the joke" and anytime the people around him laugh, he will laugh loudly as well, grinning up at our faces as though he knows exactly what's so funny. This child makes me laugh countless times a day.

He has "discovered his feet", as the baby books say. Starting about two weeks ago, he would stare at his feet constantly and try to grab them. He progressed to holding them all the time in a perfect "happy baby pose" (from yoga), and now he likes to stick them in his mouth. We laugh to see him munching happily on his feet every chance he gets. Yesterday he figured out how to pull off one of his socks for the first time—yikes.

He doesn't care much to be held by men, who are often loud and scary to him, but is generally completely content with women—the obvious exception being his father, who is absolutely his favorite person in the entire world, no question. Even the ladies at church will come up to us and comment, "That baby lights up around his father like he does around no one else!" It's true. Frankie becomes giddy with glee when Frank gets home and holds him, and if they are outside too (Frankie's favorite place)? Game over—that baby will smile without stopping, clutching his father's shoulder as he looks all around him and occasionally lets out little shrieks of glee. I love to see them together—"Big Frank" and "Little Frank", as the nurses at the hospital called them—the baby such a perfect carbon copy of his father. They crack each other up, playing, and sometimes I feel so happy when I look at them that it hurts and I have to look away.

Not that everything is perfect, of course. The little man was a truly dismal sleeper for his entire fourth month of life—as bad as the newborn stage, if not worse. After being miserable about it for a few weeks, I finally just accepted that this was the new normal. I need to work on being more quickly adaptable! But the night before he turned five months, he slept a five-and-a-half hour stretch again! That was so exciting, and since then his sleep has been getting better and better. I'm optimistic that we've turned a corner there. Oh, and also... he doesn't have teeth yet, but last week he decided it would be a really fun idea to start biting when he's supposed to be nursing. NOT okay. I'm not quite sure how to handle this, except to stop nursing when he does it, so any suggestions would be appreciated! Also, he has figured out how to pull off his cloth diapers with velcro tabs. Big problem. Why didn't I ever think of that when I was buying diapers?

Overall, though five months is so great. He is so much fun and makes friends everywhere he goes with his enormous smile. I wouldn't mind pausing time right now, at this very fun and adorable stage.

4 months

Frankie is 4 months old as of Wednesday! Like every first-time mom ever, I had to take a million photos and update you guys with ALL the dramatic details (ha).

I'm pretty sure I could stop writing this blog right now and just leave you with this one thought and you would know exactly what every single blog post from now on is going to (directly or indirectly) say...

I LOVE MOTHERHOOD.

Yep, I do.

Why don't people really talk about how fun and hilarious and delightful babies can be? Not to mention useful? I've been thinking about it, and I can hardly think of any situation in life in which having a baby is not useful. A few examples:

You're at a party where you don't know anyone. You need an ice-breaker, a way to meet people and make friends. The perfect solution? A BABY. People naturally gravitate to babies and will come up to ask you the baby's name, age, etc., and try to make the baby smile. There ya go, the ice is broken.

You're sitting through a really boring lecture/speech/class/homily and you desperately want an excuse to step outside. You know what you need? A BABY. Just give the people next to you an apologetic smile, whisper "Diaper!" or "He's hungry!" and off you go with the perfect excuse to waltz right out of there. Home free!

You're tired and you really don't want to go anywhere, but people are bugging you to go out. What will solve your problem? A BABY. Just pull the classic, "Oh, the baby's had a really rough day/kept me up last night/is teething/[invent reason here]" and you have the perfect excuse to stay in, because no one's going to question the baby! (Or you could just be an adult and say you don't want to go out, but a baby is also a convenient excuse.)

Anyway, so Frankie is at this incredibly fun stage where all he does most of the day is smile and giggle and chatter away in his baby talk. He is an absolute delight to be around 98% of the time (the 2% is when he gets overly tired and cranky) and part of me wishes he could stay this adorable age always.

I thought maybe it was just my first-time-mom partiality thinking he was such a very happy baby, but then we went up to Door County with my family last weekend (more on that soon!) and on the last day of the trip, my little brother bounded up to me wanting to play with Frankie and asked, "Is Frankie happy? Or is he asleep?" That completely sums up that boy—either happy or asleep. He's so much fun.

As my friend Giedre said, "I was impressed that you managed to get so many pictures of him smiling... and then I actually hung out with him. He smiles all the time!"

Some things he's doing lately: he's rolled over front-to-back by himself twice (once on each of the last two Tuesdays... I'm seeing a weekly pattern here), he still LOVES to sing in church (and really everywhere), and he has a deep affection for our parish priest and bounds into his arms with big smiles at any opportunity. He loves the song "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider"—even though I sing him lots of different songs, this is the only one that always makes him laugh (maybe because of the silly hand motions?). He also prefers his Sherlock Holmes board book (thanks Emily!) and always stares with interest, unlike his indifference to most of his books. I think he likes the sound effects I make. It's crazy how someone so little already has such pronounced preferences! He had his four-month check-up yesterday and was in the 90th percentile for both weight and height. But he's not really a fat baby—he's actually quite lean—just a big little guy. He's such a teddy bear. I can't get enough of this age.

Frankie at church

That one time Frankie matched his dad at Mass

Frankie's first time going to church was when he was 8 days old—on Mother's Day, coincidentally. We went to the church where Frank and I were married. Little man nursed for the first half of Mass, then slept in his grandfather's arms for the second half, after which my dad paraded him around the church to show to all my parents' friends. It was darling.

He was really easy to take to church for the first few months, since he pretty much slept or nursed the whole time. But around 3 months, when he began taking an active interest in the outside world, things got a little complicated.

 You see, Frankie loves church. LOVES. We attend a beautiful old parish on Chicago's South Side, and there is all this colorful stained glass for him to stare at! All this gorgeous organ music to listen to! All these friendly people to smile at! It's a sensory feast for the little man. He particularly loves the organ since Frank played a lot of sacred music for him before he was born.

On the other hand, there's all this stained glass that he can't tear his eyes away from! All this organ music that's so loud! All these people looking at him! It's sensory overload for the little man. About halfway through, he starts to get overwhelmed and switches over from "I'm in my happy place" to "I can't handle another minute!" That's when I take him out to the back of the church, where, if I'm lucky, I can hand him off to a lady who went to an earlier Mass and will happily hold him until Mass is over. If I'm not lucky and she's not there that day, I spend the homily chillin' in the vestibule. Sometimes our friends sit behind us and make faces at Frankie to get him to laugh, and that can stave off the grumpies too.

Sophie the giraffe is the other love of his life besides the organ

On top of that, recently Frankie has discovered that he loves to sing. It astonishes him that he can make sounds out of his own little mouth, and all day long, we hear him going "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh" at a high pitch, holding the note for as long as he can. This is incredibly cute when we are, say, at the grocery store, and you can hear his little voice trailing "Ahhhhhhhhhhh" down every aisle. He really, really loves that. But it's a bit more difficult (though still cute) when we are at Mass, and the entire church is silent for the Eucharistic Prayer, and Frankie notices that the priest is singing and what better time to sing than when you can sing with somebody else? So off he goes "Ahhhhhhhhh"-ing away, with the occasional pterodactyl screech thrown in for good measure. It cracks Frank and me up, hearing him sing with the priest like that. But I'm not quite sure it's so cute to everyone else, so we shush him as best we can. (In general, though, his love for singing is one of the cutest things he does. He will even sing with me, or take turns singing back and forth!)

We told our pastor (a good friend of ours) about how Frankie loves to sing in Mass, and of his deep and abiding love for the organ music and the stained glass.

"Well, maybe he needs to try on my hat instead of that one he's got on," Father said.

I don't know ... his new look? Maybe? Someday?

3 months

Well technically Frankie turned 3 months on Sunday, but I'm just now getting around to writing this today.

Whoever said babies get easier at 3 months (and "whoever" in this case is literally everyone I've ever talked to) was on to something. The chaos seems to be settling down and life is more predictable.

In honor of his three months, I took a bunch of photos of the little man, nicely staged on a blanket outside, and he just would. not. look. at the camera. He wouldn't smile. Nothing.

So finally I gave up, came inside, put him down on a blanket for tummy time... and BAM. He gave me the cutest little look and there it was, the perfect photo of Frankie at this age.

I was going to write 3 favorite things about Frankie at 3 months, but there are way too many to pick just three. I love our changing table conversations, when he gets really chatty and vocal while I change his diaper. I love how he'll lie in his crib making "ahhhhh" and "ohhhh" and "ehhh" sounds softly to himself, what we call "practicing his vowels." I love how he laughs when we tickle his belly. I love how, when he likes someone, he gives them this huge, goofy, open-mouth grin, and drools at them. I love his complicated relationship with Sophie the Giraffe (he loves her and is also a little scared of her). I love how, if I smile at him while he's nursing, he'll get distracted and will stop eating to giggle at me. He is just the sweetest and happiest little guy.

I've heard that a baby's personality around this age is the same personality he'll always have, and that makes me really happy, because his personality is as cheerful and laid-back as they come. We definitely have our fair share of "please just go to sleep already" and "why the heck are you crying" moments, and some parts of life with a baby are just never going to be fun (changing diapers = shoot me), but overall he is almost exactly like a live, snuggly teddy bear. And cuddling him is practically my full-time job.

Frankie at 2 months // 2 favorite things

This boy.

I tried to do one of those artsy photo shoots, with the cute outfit and the quilt on the floor, and this is how it turned out. He looks like a tiny, elderly gentleman. A golfer, maybe.

Doing his muscle man pose:

He makes this funny "pursing up his lips" face a million times a day. When he does, I say, "Oh, Frankie, are you trying to give Mama a kiss???" and then I smother him with kisses. He tolerates kisses but doesn't particularly like them.

Happy little elderly gentleman:

His double chin is really getting pronounced. Sometimes I address both of them, as in, "Frankie, do you and your chins want to go to the park?" He had his two-month check-up on Tuesday, and he's is in the 75th percentile for weight. Woot woot. Mama's milk is doing its job.

Oh yeah... about that check-up. He had to get two shots at the appointment, and I was a MESS. I cried more than he did. I had to leave the room while he got the shots so I wouldn't see him in pain, and then as soon as I heard him scream I ran back in bawling my eyes out and apologized to him a million times while cuddling him and crying some more. Regardless of the other pros and cons, I hate vaccines purely for the fact that they cause my baby pain. And they turn me into an emotional wreck for the rest of the day!

Anyway, in honor of Frankie being two months old, here are my two favorite things about him at this age:

1. // Every time he wakes up grumpy from a nap, he stops crying the minute I pick him up. Without fail, no matter how much he was screaming before, he nestles happily into my shoulder and calms right down like everything is alright in his little world. It's the sweetest darn thing, and even though it happens multiple times a day, it makes me pause every time and feel grateful to be his mom.

2. // This one is more subtle but so cool. Years ago, I read that the pupils of people's eyes dilate when looking at something they consider beautiful. I have noticed that whenever Frankie turns from looking at the couch or wall or lamp to look at me, his little pupils dilate. I know that kids always think their mama is beautiful—but how amazing to see that in action, so young! And of course it's awfully flattering. :)

Meet me in St. Louis // Our first family vacation!

Our little family took our very first vacation together last weekend, to St. Louis. We'd been planning the trip for months—Frank's favorite baseball team, the Phillies, were playing in St. Louis Saturday and he wanted to see them in person at least once this summer. Plus Frank's college roommate and his wife live in St. Louis and are avid Cardinals fans, so we planned to meet up with them for the game and dinner afterward.

Our original plan was to drive there Friday night or Saturday morning and then drive back Saturday night, but at the last minute, Frank decided we should make a getaway out of it and stay all weekend instead. I'm so glad he decided that—this mini-vacation was just what the doctor ordered.

I was worried how the 4.5-ish hour drive would go with the baby in the car, but thankfully he handled it like a champ. He slept a lot of the way, so Frank and I got to partake in one of my VERY favorite pastimes—a road-trip singalong with all the greats, John Denver and Frank Sinatra and Mumford.

That time in the car was really special. The first months after having a baby involve a lot of adjustment in a marriage, and it's hard lately to feel as connected as we used to. But singing and being silly together in the car reminded me of another car singalong from early in our relationship and rekindled that happy-and-in-love feeling. The whole trip was worth it for that alone—but the fun was just beginning.

We woke up early on Saturday morning to hit up the St. Louis Zoo first thing. My grandma likes to say, "Whenever our family visits a new city, the first place we go is the zoo," so I guess I was being true to tradition there. I texted my dad and grandma that I was at the zoo, and my dad wrote back, "Did you know you went to that same zoo when you were 6?" and my grandma texted back "Did you know I took your dad to that same zoo when he was 4?" Neither my dad nor I remember our first St. Louis Zoo trips, so Frankie is holding to family tradition by not remembering his first visit either.

He looked like this for most of the visit:

But Frank and I loved it. We were really impressed with the exhibits. I think it's my new favorite zoo in the world!

We spotted a mother elephant with her baby and I just felt this kinship, you know?

We also met this friendly young bear:

And this orangutan who was just so over it all:

I'll spare you the other 200 animal pictures I took on my phone, but sadly I didn't get a picture of my favorite animal exhibit—we saw two hippos fighting each other in the water! They were legit dueling it out, cage-match style, with angry noises and wide open mouths and much churning of the water. I would be terrified to encounter that in the wild. It was one of the coolest things I've seen at a zoo in my life.

One other awesome thing about that zoo—at one point the baby got really hungry, so I found a bench, pulled out the nursing cover and tried to feed him. But it was over 90 degrees out and pretty soon we were both sweating to death under that cover, plus random teenagers were staring, and both mama and baby were approaching a meltdown. Frank was looking at the zoo map, and in the map key I saw a lactation room just a few yards from us! We went to find it, and I was able to nurse in a comfortable chair in a completely private, air conditioned room. It was incredible. Lactation rooms are one of those little services that I never would have thought of before becoming a mom, but now they are INVALUABLE. Major props to the St. Louis Zoo for that little touch.

After a few hours at the zoo, we returned to the hotel to meet Frank's friends and head out to Busch Stadium. It was baby's first baseball game!

By the way, I put the above picture on Facebook, and it tried to tag Frankie as my sister Lillian. I'm not sure that's a compliment to her, but it does mean my genes are strong in this child. Yes!!!!

When we first arrived at the game, I panicked. The temperature was still in the 90s and our seats were in the sun. I may try to be a laid-back mom, but I was not going to sit my 7-week-old outside in that kind of weather. Luckily, like at the zoo, the first aid station was open for nursing moms. I spent at least half the game in there with Frankie, enjoying the air conditioning. We didn't rejoin Frank and our friends until the sun had moved so our seats were in shadow.

I took a bunch of pictures of Frankie in his way-too-big Phillies gear. He was one happy little fan:

After the game we went to Chili's for margaritas and dinner. Here's Frank with his college roommate. They had a great time telling stories about "the old days" and all the goofy shenanigans they got up to. Oh, and Josh gave Frank a Cardinals shirt, just to make him squirm. :)

On Sunday, we went to the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral Basilica for Mass. These pictures can't do justice to the magnificence of that place:

We took a short tour of the church after Mass, and checked out the museum in the basement and the Cathedral gift shop before leaving. The gift shop was selling copies of Michele's and Amy's book, which I've been wanting to read for a while, so I bought a copy—the perfect souvenir.

Frankie wore his dapper Sunday best:

After that we headed on home, totally refreshed. Such a great weekend.

By the way, if you're interested, my instagram handle is tessciv. It's hard to find time to blog these days, but I update instagram almost every day—I'm kind of addicted—so follow me over there if you'd like!

Double baptism + giveaway winner!

Thanks to everyone who entered the giveaway! I loved reading about all your cool traditions and days that are special to you. The winner was Claire Rebecca. Claire Rebecca, please email me at tmcbarber@gmail.com so we can work out getting the book to you!

Frankie and his "twin cousin" were baptized together on Sunday. The ceremony was beautiful!

I had hoped for a peaceful, happy baby, but after sleeping all through Mass, Frankie decided to throw propriety to the winds and scream bloody murder through the ceremony. Silly baby!

Have you heard the superstition that a baby who cries at his baptism is going to have a religious vocation? Frank said, "If it's true that a baby who cries is destined to become a priest, I think our boy is going to be the first North American pope!"

Meanwhile, his sweet little cousin slept angelically through the whole thing!

My sister and her husband were Frankie's godparents. 

And my parents were godparents to my sister's baby.

 

How does your family pick godparents? I was raised with the idea that godparents should be family members, since that offers some guarantee that they will remain a part of your child's life and you won't lose touch with them. But I know a lot of people choose friends or spiritual mentors instead, and really, it's not fair to Frank if we always go with a "family only" rule since none of his family is Catholic. Stuff to consider for the future!

After the baptism, we had a party at my parents' house to celebrate the babies, and took a million photos of all the family members with Frankie.

Here is my side of the family—Frankie with his dad, uncle, grandfather and great-grandfather. As you can see, Frankie was really loving life that day. :p

And with the Barber side of the family—uncle, grandpa and dad:

We did get one picture where Frankie wasn't screaming! He just looks deeply offended. Here are all three of the Frank Barbers:

And here are "the five Franks"—from left to right, my godfather Uncle Frank, my father-in-law Frank, baby Francisco, my husband Frank and my grandfather Francisco. Man, there are a lot of Franks in my life!

 

I also got some "four generations" pictures with my grandparents—here I am with my dad and his mom:

And my mom with her mom:

It was so special to have my grandparents there to meet the babies. They were so happy to meet their first great-grandchildren. My mom's mom never wanted to let them out of her sight!

Later in the day, Frankie calmed down a bit. My new favorite photo of him is this one that Kathryn took, in a darling outfit she gave him:

Aaaaaand last but not least... I thought you guys might enjoy this hilarious picture that my little sister put on Facebook in honor of Father's Day. It's from a family vacation about 16 years ago.

Is my dad not the original hipster? And can you tell which one is me?