Figure Eight

Just when we got used to saying "seven months," Ellie turned eight months old. A bunch of our friends and siblings who had babies around the same time we had Ellie all kept commenting about how fast everything goes. I didn't get it until now. But lately it has seemed like Ellie is growing up so fast. I think not living life just trying to survive from one feeding to the next contributes to that. We had a lot of fun with her before, but the reflux has gotten so much better over the last little while, Brady and I have just been amazed at what life is like with this baby now. We keep asking, "Is this what it's really like normally?" Ellie wants to eat now, so no more battles to get her fed. She hardly spits up now, and when she does it's usually not that big of a deal. We still have to keep her upright for 30 min. after feedings, but since feedings go so fast, it's not that big of a deal (not compared to hour-long battle-feedings and then holding her up for an hour after that). We've had even more fun with her, we've been able to take her places without over stressing about schedules, and everyone has been a lot more relaxed. Life is pretty good.

Ellie is still pretty fascinated with her feet, especially kicking them against the hard floor. The downstairs neighbors haven't found this quite as fascinating.

One of the highlights of month seven for Ellie (and her parents) was a visit from a grandma. Somehow this is the only picture I took of the two of them while my mom was in town. Ellie was showing Grandma her beloved They Might Be Giants videos while I was packing up some books.

Some of the things Ellie did with Grandma that I for some reason did not document included going to the international biscuit festival (I don't know if it was the international biscuit festival, but there was some talk of a biscuit from the Civil War still in existence). She also visited the mansion that General Longstreet used as his headquarters during the siege of Knoxville during the Civil War (but don't call it the Civil War in front of the tour guides--and don't ask them about the slaves on that plantation because apparently they didn't matter and that's not what the war was about anyway). She and Grandma are kind of history buffs. The rest of the visit was pretty laid back; walks to the park, watching thunderstorms, watching fireflies from the balcony. It was all very pleasant and Ellie has missed all the extra attention in the weeks since Grandma went home.

She has not, however, slowed down for us at all. She's not very interested in crawling right now. She never liked being on her tummy during the worst of the reflux months and hasn't really come to enjoy it since. So she doesn't spend much time trying to crawl, but she sure wants to walk. She is always trying to stand, preferring that to sitting sometimes. And she likes to try walking across the bed, across the floor, wherever.

Taking a moment to pose for the camera.

Ellie's favorite place in the house. She loves the bathroom. I used to sit her on the edge of the sink, but she slides herself in now. This is where we go when she gets fussy and nothing else will help. Sometimes when I'm on the phone I have to take her in here to be able to talk and she just babbles to the faucet and to the baby in the mirror. (I know she looks huge in the sink, but to her defense, it is a small sink.)

So there's your Ellie update. She's generally pretty happy, constantly wiggling, jabbering, and wanting to be entertained. She loves books, music, and to touch and then pat everything she can reach (before it goes into her mouth). Somehow this all takes very little energy on her part and just about every bit of ours.

Moving Quintilian

T minus 14 days and counting. This picture reminds me of what it is like for us to move. Books, books, books. So far we have packed 13 boxes of books. We still have to pack up all of Brady's cookbooks, which will likely be another 2 or so boxes. There will be a box for all of Ellie's books. Probably 2-3 boxes' worth are at Brady's office. This is our reduced state after selling off some textbooks online throughout the year, and taking two very full boxes of books we agreed we could part with to the local used book store.

Except Quintilian. Everyone's favorite Roman rhetorician. Well, maybe not everyone's, but that's a debate for another time. I own every volume of his Institutio Oratoria in practically perfect condition. It's a leftover from my grad school days, history of rhetoric class. Each little red book, complete with dust jacket, has the text in Latin on one page, the English translation on the facing page. And I read it. (Just the English pages, but still.) The set probably cost me a couple hundred dollars new, should have gotten at least a hundred used, but the people at the used bookstore only offered around $25. For the whole set. So I said I'd just keep those books. I admit that I hardly remember the specifics of the text. I seriously doubt I will ever read it again. And if I didn't already own it and saw the set on sale for $25, I probably would not buy it. But somehow it was worth that to me to keep the books. I read them. I own them. I can look at the books and have them. So right now the count is 13+ boxes of books and Quintilian.

I have been much more ruthless when it comes to other belongings. I have a pile of stuff to go to Goodwill, even after our major purge for last year's move. As I was packing beautiful crystal vases we received as wedding presents I wondered if I had wrapped and padded them enough or if they might break in the move. Then I just shrugged and kept packing, thinking if they break, they break. I'm so not sentimental about some things.

It probably seems a frivolous thing for us to keep so many books considering we don't have a house to put them in. We are still apartment dwellers, about to reduce to less than that even as we get ready to move in with family. It might make more sense to just sell all the books and buy electronic readers of some sort--one small box to carry them both and call it good. But sorting through and packing the books I got nostalgic. I remembered the classes I read them for, the people who were in those classes, the work I didn't do because I was reading those books. I found old class schedules tucked into textbooks, cards I thought were funny and used as bookmarks, and a note I had written asking Brady to bring me a lunch to school during the first year we were married (I hear some husbands get love notes put in lunches their wives make for them . . .).

I remembered when Brady and I were dating; neither of us had a car, so we took a lot of long walks. As we walked and walked, we would talk about our future, what we wanted to do and be, what we wanted for our kids. I remember one night when Brady said he wanted to have a library in his house someday--I knew I had found "the one." A lot of those lofty dreams from nearly a decade ago (gulp!) have not worked out exactly as we planned them. They've taken a lot longer to reach than we thought, and some may not ever happen. We don't have a house yet. We don't have a career yet. We are still in school. We don't have the big family we thought we'd have by now. But we have Ellie. And we have well over 13 boxes of books for our library. And Quintilian.

P.S. In other happenings, Ellie turned 8 months old. The camera batteries needed recharging, so I will post on that soon--don't worry grandmas.