Look Who's Sitting Up!

Johnny accomplished the big milestone of sitting up by himself this week. I could not be more excited for him! I snapped some pictures of him trying to balance on his bottom with my boppy around him on Monday and Tuesday. He toppled over each time I took his supports away.













The whole time we were playing and taking pictures I kept wondering when he would be able to sit on his own. Like every mother, I worry about his development. Then, on Thursday afternoon, my fears dissipated. I watched in sheer amazement as Johnny sat up completely unassisted for more than ten minutes. He played with toys I had scattered around him. He looked up at me and smiled. He leaned over and grabbed toys and then pulled himself erect again. He batted his arms and shrieked and laughed and never lost his balance. How does that happen? It is as if babies finally master things overnight!











A new mother's learning curve is steep, and I have certainly come to expect the unexpected. The most important lesson I have learned this week is to relax. I am not going to obsess over milestone charts anymore. I am going to appreciate the individual pace at which my son develops. Even though I was astounded when Johnny rolled from his tummy to his back at three months old, I am still waiting four months later for him to attempt the more difficult flip from back to tummy. I have been worrying he will never do this, and he may not. And so it seems he has mastered sitting up before rolling over. What of it? Nothing, I have decided! All that matters is Johnny is happy and healthy.

How the Worst Day Became the Best

I am only human. I am only human. I am only human. These are words, a mantra in no perfectionist’s lexicon, mine included. I am super-woman; hear me roar. Show me a task I can’t master, a problem I can’t solve, a mountain I can’t climb . . .

But there is one tiny glitch. It has been plaguing me since middle school.

S – C – A – T – T – E – R – B – R – A – I – N

Let us reminisce. In 1993 Canton Middle School had A and B elective days. For instance, on A days I had PE, and on B days I had French. I was studious, and I never forgot to do my homework. I prided myself in doing the absolute best in school I possibly could. My problem was I could never keep up with which elective day it was. I would leave the house on Monday morning thinking I had French only to realize once I got to school that I needed gym clothes for PE. I would call my dad, and he would drop my clothes off for the fortieth time that school year. He never fussed at me nor complained about my “forgetfulness” as he called it. It was a different story with my mom. I am sure she badgered me about keeping up with dates and events precisely because doing so was (and as you will see, still is) a weakness of mine. Unfortunately, all the nagging in the world has done nothing to alleviate my scatterbrainedness . . .

Let us flash forward to yesterday, Tuesday, March 23, 2010, seventeen years since my middle school days. The day began like any other. Casey and I lay in bed at 6 am listening to Johnny stir and then babble pleasantly for ten minutes before whimpering for us to come and get him out of his crib. This is one of the sweetest and most dear parts of our day. Casey brought Johnny into our bed, and we snuggled him between us for a few minutes before Da-da had to get ready for work. I continued on with the morning routine of feeding, bathing, dressing, playing with, and eventually putting Johnny down for his morning nap.

After Johnny was snoozing, I treated myself to a ten-minute facebook fix and made a mental note to check my work email, which I do not do very often now since I am still on maternity leave. I needed to double-check the time for my meetings at the county’s Central Office the following two days. As McDowell County’s teacher of the year last year, it was my duty to chair the committee for this year’s teacher of the year selection process.

I had arranged for Ann, my mother-in-law, to keep Johnny while I worked on Wednesday and Thursday, but I could not remember what time I had to be there each day. I opened my email with the intention of jotting down the times and calling Ann to let her know when I would drop off Johnny.

My reminder email read “8-3 on Tuesday, March 23 and 11:30-5 on Wednesday, March 24.” I jotted the times down and went to peek in on my sleeping baby. Just as I touched the doorknob, my stomach sank. Tuesday? Did the email say Tuesday? What is today? Today is Tuesday! I am the chair of the committee, last year’s county teacher of the year, and I am at home at 10:45 on a day when I should have been at work at 8. How humiliating! All of this internal dialogue took place in less than a second, and then I dashed back down the hall to the computer. I looked at the note I made myself last week, the one reminding me of the meetings. Oh no! Just as I feared! I wrote down Wednesday and Thursday instead of Tuesday and Wednesday. This is the story of my life . . . and this is only the beginning of the day’s drama.

I frantically called Ann who was at school teaching her ninth grade World History class. When I got no answer after a few tries, I called the school to have her paged. Busy. Hang up. Dial again. Busy. Hang up. Dial again. Busy. This pattern repeated for ten minutes until I called Casey who was also at school teaching his eighth grade Health class. By this point I was in a tizzy to say the least, so as soon as Casey answered, I told him I had really messed up, only I didn’t say it quite so politely. And who hasn’t said a “bad word” in front of his or her significant other? No big deal, right? In my case, wrong! Very, very wrong! Casey said he accidentally pressed a wrong button when answering the phone, and every kid in his class heard my profanity. That wrong button was apparently speakerphone. Beautiful, just beautiful!

In the end Ann saved me. She got a substitute teacher to come in for her, and she left work to baby-sit for me. Not all women can honestly say they have a great mother-in-law. Not all women can get along well with their mother-in-law. I am so fortunate. I can say and do both. I have a gracious, loving mother-in-law who adores her grandson. Yesterday is not the first time she has rescued me, and I am sure it will not be the last. I will remember these times when my son is married. I will know how to be a good mother-in-law because of Ann.

The title of this post is “How the Worst Day Became the Best,” and barring Ann's rescue, I have written only about the worst so far. So what about the best? After coming home and while on the verge of angry-at-my-stupid-self tears, I was feeding Johnny his dinner of sweet peas and carrots when he said “Ma-ma.” I looked at Casey and said, “What did he say?” Then, as if to answer my question, Johnny looked at me and said, “Ma-ma.” I could not hold back the tears any longer. I cried because I was embarrassed over my mistake. I cried because my pride was bruised. I cried because I inconvenienced my mother-in-law. I cried because I am not perfect, which I already knew but has never stopped me from trying to be anyway. Most of all, I cried because my heart was so full of love. I know Johnny probably does not know what “ma-ma” means yet, but I do not care. It does not change the sweetness of hearing him say it. I have been waiting for this moment ever since Johnny said “da-da” over a month ago, ever since I found out I was pregnant, and it could not have happened on a better day. I wish I had the words, but they exist only in my heart.

And that is how the worst day suddenly became the best day.

Spring, Lake Tomahawk, and Gelato

Yesterday was a glorious spring day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the house of Mabry was basking in the nice change of weather. It has been months since we have been able to take Johnny outside without bundling him Eskimo-style, so Casey and I were excited to have such a warm, sunny day to play outside together.

We decided to get out of Marion for the day, so we headed to Black Mountain, one of our favorite towns in Western North Carolina. Before we were married, we met for “date night” once a week in Black Mountain because it was halfway between my apartment in Asheville and his in Marion. The downtown is charming and quaint, and we have never tired of browsing the shops or eating in the locally owned restaurants. We especially love The Verandah and Ole Guacamole. I would be remiss if I failed to mention my personal love affair with Dairy King’s “twist,” a cake cone of the most delectable swirl of chocolate and vanilla frozen yogurt.

We were not the only ones who decided to stroll around Black Mountain’s Lake Tomahawk. The trail around the lake was teeming with moms, dads, and grandparents pushing strollers and chasing kids, people walking dogs, and young boys fishing and riding bikes. Johnny screeched and cooed as we made our way around the lake, taking in the all the sights and sounds. He is such a curious baby. He leans forward in his seat to get a good view of all that is going on around him. He is interested in looking at people, especially other babies.

Casey and I took Johnny out of his stroller to make some pictures. He is such a little ham, always smiling for and looking directly into the camera. Here are some of our favorite shots.













We were worried Johnny might get sunburned at the lake, so we headed downtown. We strolled around and casually chatted with other people, mostly answering questions about Johnny. People are always surprised by his age because he looks so big. He is twenty-nine inches and nearly twenty pounds at seven months old. He is a friendly baby with a ready smile for anyone who peers into his stroller, and he has already mastered the art of flirting.

Casey and I were disappointed Dairy King was not open yet, so we looked elsewhere for our ice cream fix. I introduced him to gelato from the Chocolate Gem. We each had a small cup of chocolate and mint. We recently discovered Johnny also loves ice cream, and we give him a few tiny bites every now and then. Casey let Johnny taste his gelato, and he was like a little bird opening his mouth again and again to show his daddy he was ready for and wanted another bite.





Yesterday was perfect, our first spring day spent outdoors as a family. Sometimes I cannot believe this is my life. I have the most amazing husband and the sweetest son. I am looking forward to all of the other “firsts” we three will experience together in the future.

The would-be pregnancy diary in a nutshell: Part II

I have always been fascinated with pregnant bellies, and my own was no exception. I could not keep my hands off of my swelling baby bump. During the early weeks my pregnancy was more of an abstract idea than a concrete reality. While seeing our baby on ultrasound did make my pregnancy more real, feeling my baby move inside of me for the first time gave me the sense of motherhood I had been longing to experience.

It was a Friday night in February 2009, and I was a day shy of sixteen weeks. I had just gotten settled into bed when I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my belly. It was the softest swish, almost like the little ripple of a goldfish making a turn in its bowl. The sensation came and went so quickly I was not sure it even happened. I had just read in a pregnancy book it is possible to feel a baby move at sixteen weeks but most women, especially first time mothers, do not feel movement until closer to eighteen or even twenty weeks. I lay in bed thinking about how absurd it was to even consider I could feel the baby so early. I dismissed the feeling simply as indigestion and went to sleep. The very next night as I lay in bed trying to get comfortable the same swishing, fluttering sensation swept through my belly again. I was shocked. Could this feeling really be what I thought it was? Could I really feel my baby move so early? I was afraid to move. I wanted so badly to feel that soft little swish again, and I did feel it once more before falling asleep. I was elated! I knew then what I felt the night before was exactly what I had so easily dismissed.

Feeling my baby move was like falling in love all over again, only I could never predict when my tummy would flip or flutter with butterflies. Those first flutters and swishes gave way to gentle knocks and bumps and later sharp kicks and jabs.

Even more exciting than feeling my baby move was seeing my baby move. I was lying on the couch at my parents house the first time I saw my belly ripple. I felt the baby turning, and at the same time I saw his body push against my skin. I am not sure exactly how far along I was then, but I do remember it was warm weather, which would have been when I was around six months.

Our baby was active to say the least. He moved the most in the evenings when I settled down on the couch to read or unwind, and I relished every flutter, swish, kick, flip, turn, poke, and punch, even the ones that hurt. I constantly told Casey to feel or look at my belly, which turned out to be mostly annoying for him because it was quite awhile before he could feel the baby. When Casey finally felt our baby kick, he forgot the annoyance of all the times I made him stop what he was doing and rush over to my belly for nothing. I delighted in the time we spent together feeling or watching my belly. Those moments brought us closer as a couple than I could ever have imagined before becoming pregnant. The love we felt for our baby intensified the love we felt for each other.

As our love grew my belly did, too! I was so excited when my baby bump first began to show. I felt like I had finally been accepted into an exclusive club I had been trying to gain admittance to for months. As I got further and further along I could not believe how enormous and round and protruding my belly was. I was amazed by my skin’s capacity to stretch the way it did. I stood endlessly in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to marvel at the morphing of my body.

My burgeoning belly proved to be quite cumbersome. Everyday things that once were simple to do became difficult. Most of the time I found humor in these situations. Two of these silly incidents stand out in my mind. The first happened when I was trying to eat a burger in the car. I placed the wrapper in my lap and leaned over it to take my first bite. At least that is what I thought I was doing. I looked down after that bite only to see mustard and ketchup all over my shirt. But I had leaned over the wrapper. How did all that junk end up on my shirt? I wiped up the mess and leaned over the wrapper for another bite. I looked down and realized I could not see the wrapper. All I could see was belly! I strained to lean out over my belly so the wrapper would catch the mess, but it was impossible to do. My belly had become so big that putting a napkin, or burger wrapper in this instance, in my lap was useless. After that I just put the napkin over my belly! The second thing happened when I was trying to clean my bathtub. I sprayed the tub with cleaner and got down on my knees to scrub it. Each time I tried to lean over the edge of the tub my belly pressed against it, making it impossible for me to reach the basin with my brush. I shifted my position and tried again. I still could not get far enough over the edge to clean the tub.

That is not all my belly kept me from doing. I could never get comfortable in bed to sleep. I used four pillows to situate myself and took up the majority of our king sized bed. I had trouble getting in and out of my car, and my belly always scraped the steering wheel. Shaving my legs was the bane of my pregnant existence. And forget about a tub bath! I felt miles away from the sink when I washed dishes. I had to stretch to reach my husband for a hug or kiss. Really, my belly was quite hilarious by the end of the pregnancy.


7 weeks at Christmas 2008 (Krissy's house in Pennsylvania)


21 weeks in April 2009 (driveway at our house in Marion)


28 weeks in May 2009 (driveway at our house in Marion)


38 weeks in August 2009 (at a back-to-school pool party in Marion)

The would-be pregnancy diary in a nutshell: Part I

I will never forget the evening my digital pregnancy test read “pregnant.” That test only confirmed what I already knew. How I knew I was pregnant is not something I can describe. It was only a feeling, a sense that something had shifted in my body, my being. I had taken other pregnancy tests in the months before only to be disappointed. On the evening of December 8, 2008, disappointment was absent from the house of Mabry.

I am sure Casey will never forget that evening either. I ran from the bathroom into the living room where Casey was lying on the couch. I was screeching and squealing hysterically. I chanted, “We’re having a baby, we’re having a baby!” over and over as I jumped into the air. Casey says the lasting image he has from that night of me jumping up and down reminds him of those old Toyota commercials where the frame freezes when the new owners are mid-jump in the air.

Casey was cautiously optimistic. I remember him asking me if I was sure I was pregnant. I know he wanted me to be pregnant as much as I wanted to be pregnant, but at the same time, neither of us wanted to have false hope. I tried to explain the unexplainable, tried to reassure him that I “felt” pregnant. In the end I just took another pregnancy test, with the same positive result, of course.

We snuggled on the couch that night, dreaming about our future as parents. The whole evening was surreal. I remember being so excited that a year from then our baby would be celebrating his or her first Christmas. I was ready to tell the world, but Casey convinced me to wait a little longer considering I was only four weeks along. I agreed to wait only if he would let me surprise our families with the news at Christmas.


Nanny Ward's reaction to our baby news


Nanny and Papaw Ward were so excited


Nana Mabry's reaction


Aunt KK's reaction

The wait for my first doctor’s appointment was excruciating. Seven weeks after learning I was pregnant, Casey and I saw our baby on the ultrasound monitor, and the abstract concept of my pregnancy became reality. The wiggling, waving little peanut on the monitor was our baby. We watched in awe, in love. We left that appointment glowing, floating. We were bursting with joy and love.


Look at that cute peanut!


Waving one little arm at Mama and Dada

From the very beginning I felt like I was having a boy. Casey, on the other hand, was so sure our baby was a girl that I foolishly bought the cutest pink outfits in a moment of excitement and anticipation. It turns out my gut was right again. On March 18, 2009, our little boy reluctantly revealed himself. The ultrasound tech had to poke and prod my belly to get the baby to uncross his legs. When we recognized what we saw, we were both stunned. We had really come to believe we were having a girl. In fact it took me a week to get over the shock. A boy? Really? How would I know what to do? I had changed plenty of diapers but never a boy diaper. I was disconcerted to say the least.


What a sweet face!


Still waving at Mama and Dada!

Seven Months in the Making

This blog has been nearly seven months in the making. Why nearly seven? John Christopher Mabry, our sweet baby boy, will celebrate his seven month birthday tomorrow, March 12.

Actually, I had planned to start keeping a diary when I got pregnant sixteen months ago in November of 2008. I wanted to remember all the milestones of those nine months, but I let other things get in the way. Since I flubbed the pregnancy diary, I vowed I would start journaling the minute Johnny made his debut, so I threw my pen and notebook in the hospital bag along with all the other necessities I packed.

Ha! The naivety of a first-time mama! Little did I know, or even anticipate, I would be in labor for days (literally) and end up having a c-section and a ten pound baby to boot. But that is a story I will save for another post.

Needless to say, I did not start the mommy diary upon Johnny's birth. So many other pressing matters kept my hands busy and full, like nursing, rocking, changing diapers, clothing, bathing, putting the paci back in when it fell out, snapping cute pictures for the memory book I have yet to start, and endless other things. Oh, and sleeping, or trying to at least!

So here we are seven beautiful, chaotic, wouldn't-trade-them-for-the-world months later. The fog is clearing, and I am finally beginning my mommy diary.