Oh, The Cuteness

This is my favorite photo that I've shot lately.  It's from a pregnancy shoot I did with a great couple.

And guess what?  Baby E. was born the day after Christmas.  Guess whose doing some newborn pictures soon?  Yay!  I can't wait.  I love holding and smelling babies that I don't have to raise.

It's About Time we had Some Good News Around Here

Although you probably can't tell it from this picture, that, my friends, is a teeny tiny baby. 

I'll spare you the details, but let's just say it took a year and a half of determination to create this little being, which will be Special Delivery's baby brother or sister.  Super Cop and Mrs. Scrubs are having a baby!

Hula's going to be an aunt!  Hula's going to be an aunt!  Insert happy dance here and cue Elton John with that whole Circle of Life number he does. 

The Spittin' Image

Mrs. Scrubs entered Special Delivery in the cutest baby contest at the festival in our hometown this past weekend. And there are some signs that he's going to be just like his daddy. She had Speical Delivery all dressed up in his little sailor outfit. His hair was nice and neat, and he was as cute as a bug’s ear. The obvious winner, in our biased opinion. The only problem? He was more interested in a nap than the contest. Now, in all fairness to him they held the darn thing at prime nap time for babies. He wasn’t the only sleepy one. But he certainly was the best one at sleeping. Oh, he fought it a little.And then right before time to go on stage, he gave it up.And it didn’t matter if she held him up Or to the sideHe was out. Like a light. And he stayed that way the whole time he was on the stage. He didn’t win Best Smile or Best Personality, but ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the 2009 Best Napper. Yep, that boy is looking more and more like his daddy every day.

Look Who's Talking

Well, if you count m-m-m-maaa-maaa and lots of blubbering. And guess who's sitting up.And crawling. Man, that boy has found his legs and is on the move. As daddy says, he's like a worm in hot ashes. You can't hang on to him, and he won't be still. I had a terrible time trying to take pictures of him yesterday. The one thing he isn't in a hurry to do? Show us a tooth. He's slobbering like a rabid dog but showing no signs of a tooth yet. However, he is quite interested in untying your shoes and pulling out hunks of your hair. And because we can't say no to him, we let him.

Giddyup!

My nephew, Special Delivery, is nearly six months old, and he’s at that stage where he still wants to be held a lot, but he won’t be still. Holding him is like riding a wild bull at the rodeo. When you get ready to hold him, you’d better cowboy up ‘cause it’s going to take every ounce of strength you have to keep him from flying out of your arms. As daddy says, SD is like a worm in hot ashes. And daddy should know. The following photos were taken about a month ago while we were helping Mrs. Scrubs and Super Cop move into their new house. (Pssst. Mrs. Scrubs would want me to remind you that they were moving in order to explain all of the clothes lying around in these photos.) And while he started out nice and calm in the chute, that stinker was all over the ring as soon as the gate opened. That boy makes it tough to get a picture of him that isn’t blurry. All of this wiggling would explain why he’s wearing pureed squash in his right eyebrow. AND how Mrs. Scrubs inadvertently ran her hand into something nasty when she tried to readjust his bunched up diaper a few minutes later, leading her to conclude that this little bull was rank.

Look Whose Smiling

Sandwiched in between the dog vomit and spoiled meat in the freezer this weekend, there was a bright spot. Guess who dropped in on us with a surprise visit Friday night, and guess who’s getting to be such a big boy. That’s right. Our favorite nephew, Special Delivery. He is now four months old and poking his toes out of his smallest outfits. He’s sampling baby food, blowing bubbles and entertaining us with his smiles and coos. When you haven’t had a baby in the house for a while, you forget how hard they try to interact with you at this stage and how expressive they are. Once they discover their facial muscles move, they start manipulating your heart with every little turn of their brow and cheeks. They gots the power, and they know it. They change personalities faster than Sally Field in Sybil.

Hey, watcha got in that diaper bag, over there? A little food?

It IS food. Yeah!

I really don't think much of your green beans. Seriously, I could do with some applesauce instead.

Actually, I would pefer some formula, thank you. You can try, but I'm not budging, and I'm going to give you the stink eye if you keep pushing your luck.

I'm NOT kidding!!

Ha! Yes, I am. Give me a little bite woman. Three bites and we're done with the green mess and on to formula right? That's how this gig usually works.

Oh, boy! Oh, boy, oh, boy! I see formula, oh yes I do!

See what I mean. Wrapped. Around. Our. Fingers.

I'm going to need a bigger memory card for the camera.

Stop, In The Name of Love Before You Blind My Eyes

Hula + new camera + three month old nephew = picture taking to the nth degree. Dinner with Special D. (and the rest of the family but who's counting them) Monday night had me out of control. The quest to get a shot of him smiling in low light under wiggly circumstances took all dadgum evening. I finally landed one right before we left. I tried to make it work without a flash, so as not to blind him, but I think his retinas are at the very least detached. Forgive the fuzziness of these pictures. They're really too out of focus to use, but I'm posting them anyway because they tell the story of the evening.

Now, he's no stranger to the camera, but let's just say he was a little tired of it before the salad even arrived.

Hey, who's that crazy lady with the camera?

What the heck is that noise?

Has she quit yet, Teen Angel? Can I look?

Unc, make her stop. Hey, maybe if I poop on her, she'll quit.

Ack! There she goes again. Good Gerber woman, don't you ever quit?!

A little help over here. Anybody? ANYBODY? Maybe the pitiful look will work. That usually guilt's SOMEBODY into giving me my way.

Oh alright, I'll just smile and get it over with. Check please.

Away in a Manger

In the United Methodist Church in this part of the country we have a tradition called March to the Manger. On the Sunday before Christmas we march to the front of the church, usually to the sounds of O Come All ye Faithful to lay a special offering in a manger. The gifts are often wrapped in Christmas paper and bows. Members of the congregation portray Mary, Joseph, shepherds, angels and sometimes the wise men. The role of baby Jesus is traditionally given to the newest baby in the congregation with his parents serving as Mary and Joseph. Growing up, I always looked forward to the March to the Manger, laying my little wrapped package near the creche and glimpsing at the baby who was usually snoozing on his mama's lap. To this day, it still feels special to file to the front of the church, singing multiple verses of O come All ye Faithful and looking into the face of the baby chosen to portray the newborn Jesus.


This year was even more special because Special Delivery was picked to play Jesus at the church I grew up in. The March to the Manger was incorporated into the church's Christmas cantata, so Special D., Mrs. Scrubs and Super Cop had to sit still for a long time while the choir and the children sang numerous songs. Now I know I might be just a teensy biased, but I think he was the cutest little baby savior I've ever seen. See?
And he was so good. He slept through most of the program but started to come alive about forty minutes into the program. We saw his eyes pop open, his mouth form a big yawn and then his little arm stretch out long. I glanced at the program and saw that we still had two long songs to go. I hoped he wasn't hungry because he will certainly let you know if he's hungry. Apparently, he wasn't. However, he was gassy. Mrs. Scrubs says she thought he was pooping his pants during the last round of singing. He didn't, but let's just say that while we were greatly singing o'er the plains, he was repeating the sounding joy. The smell in the manger wasn't the sheep. His bright little eyes stayed glued to the bling on the three kings and the spotlight in the loft. He bounced on Mrs. Scrubs knee quietly until the program was over, as if he knew his special role. And just like that, his first starring role was over. His adoring fans rushed forward for a few pics and a chance to hold him before we had to go home. What a sweet moment in this Christmas season. I will however, have to have a talk with Super Cop about his choice of sandals.

One More Picture Because I'm All About The Baby This Week

My baby holding another baby.

How can this picture make me feel so warm and fuzzy..and so nervous all at the same time?

Special Delivery

Is there anything more precious than a newborn baby? I think not. The miracle of pregnancy, childbirth and the circle of life just knock me over every time I brush up against them. Just look at my new nephew and try to find one thing more awe inspiring than the arrival of a new life.
I can’t do it. I look at him and strains of Louie Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World go rolling through my head. I start thinking about the years that lie head for him and the milestones he’ll pass in just the first few years. And I wonder what he’ll be when he grows up. Oh, the places he will go, and he doesn’t even know it yet. His trip into the world was an adventure in itself.

Because the doctor suspected he was going to be a big baby, Mrs. Scrubs was scheduled for inducement. She arrived at the hospital Monday night for the preliminaries and was knee deep in the process by yesterday morning. The only problem was that someone forgot to tell Special D. he needed to move. The little stinker didn’t want to budge. Have I mentioned stubbornness runs in our family? Apparently, he takes after our side. He wedged himself in tight and hunkered down for a full day of pressure and coaxing. After hours of pitosin and two epidurals, Mrs. Scrubs was worn down, Special D. still wasn’t positioned right, and the doctor finally decided to do a c-section. Around 8:35pm he sprang into the world, kicking and screaming. Boy was he peeved! He was NOT happy to be out of that little hot tub he’d been floating around in the last nine months. No doubt about it, his lungs were fine. Of course, he was probably scared to see that big welcoming party that was waiting for him at the nursery window. Tell me we didn’t look as anxious as I think we did. Heh, I thought so. We didn’t even try to act cool about it. There were more camera flashes than a Paris Hilton movie premiere, and we resorted to taking desperate fuzzy pictures through a side door window until they put him in full view. But when he was finally scrubbed and measured and suctioned we got a good look at all eight pounds, eight ounces of him. He looks huge, like he should already have teeth.
Look at that hair. Don’t you just want to rub his head?And those pudgy like cheeks. Oh, those cheeks! And those feet. Lordy, he’s got some big feet. I love how Super Cop couldn’t take his eyes off of him. As I watched everything unfold, I kept thinking about those first few hours of being a parent and how overwhelming it is. How full your heart feels, and how you instantly fall in love with that little person who instinctively clings to you. How scared you are that you are responsible for turning this new life into a decent, productive citizen and how ill equipped you feel at doing that. There’s nothing like a newborn baby to make you feel stupid. Most of all I kept thinking about how Super Cop’s and Mrs. Scrubs’ lives have changed forever in ways they are only beginning to understand. They say a baby changes everything, and that is certainly true.

The Hula-gen’s are thrilled with this special delivery and can’t wait to get our hands on him this evening. We left the hospital last night around 10:30, before Mrs. Scrubs was ready for visitors because I had to get up at 5:30am for work, Teen Angel had to get up for school, and frankly, I thought the new parents had enough family in the way. You see, the grandmas had pretended to take a walk and then slipped right into the recovery room, oh yes they did. Tonight I’ll get my turn to rub his little head, smell that roly poly neck, wrap my finger around his finger and rub those big wrinkly feet. All of this just one week after I said goodbye to a friend who lost his battle with cancer. One life quietly ends, another loudly begins. What a wonderful world.

Breaking News!

The newest Hula-gen has finally arrived. After a very long day of sluggish inducement, worn off epidurals and a baby that refused to budge, Mrs. Scrubs finally presented us with this special delivery, via C-section, around 8:30 last night. Meet my new nephew. I'll wait for the collective sigh. We think he's the cutest thing since...well, since Teen Angel was born. More pictures and tales from the birthing center later today, but for now, I'm off to see if they make size 13 booties. Man! Are his feet big.

Baby Bonanza

Have you met my nephew?

Not THAT Hoss. THIS Hoss. Look at him all squeezed in there like a fat man at Carlsbad Caverns. That’s his fist in his mouth, although Teen Angel thinks it looks like he’s gnawing on a chicken leg. From the size of that boy he may BE eating solid food. Monday’s ultra sound revealed an estimated weight of 8.3 pounds, and Mrs. Scrubs isn’t due until October 17th. Don’t they pick up a pound or two in the last couple of weeks? Yikes! Hope she’s signed up for that epidural. His previous ultrasound revealed big feet, and as Teen Angel said the other day, “With those feet we should have realized that eventually he’d grow into them.”

That boy is a whopper. He is simply out of room in his current digs, so we think it won’t be long and he’ll be kicking his way out of there. The doctor says he’s inducing if Hoss isn’t here by October 13th. We can’t wait. We’ll be there with bells on…and with chicken.

Oh Baby!

I’m amazed at how quickly my mood can swing. No, really. Yesterday I was all holy cow it’s been eight years since my nephew died and it still hurts so try to stumble through the day without remembering the sights and sounds of that day and breaking down whew. Today I’m all hey Super Cop’s baby is going to be here right away oh my god it’s a baby to love and cuddle that I didn’t have to squeeze out of my own womb thank goodness yea! Amazing. Is this what menopause is going be like? Wild mood swings and a daily craving for white sheet cake with strawberry filling and white icing? Hmm. Perhaps, it’s not me. Perhaps, it’s just the wonderful way the world turns, tragic one day, happy the next. And we are certainly happy about this baby.

The countdown to the birth of the newest Hula-gen is on. Technically, we’re about three or so weeks away from the due date, but at the rate this baby is growing, I don’t think Mrs. Scrubs is going to last that long. There are signs that the little fellow may be a big guy. As in let’s do another ultra sound Monday to see just how big he is. He’s been an early achiever so far on this growth, and it appears that all systems are go if he decides to chuck his due date and join us a little early. Word is the doctor won’t throw on the brakes if things start to roll. And Mrs. Scrubs is ready to roll. She’s at that stage where she just wants it to be over. Those of you who have given birth know what I’m talking about. It’s those final days where you don’t want to be the cute pregnant lady any more. The glow of pregnancy has worn off. Your face is puffy. Your feet are swollen. Nothing tastes good. Only one pair of stretchy pants fits, and that baby feels like it’s about to fall out. You walk around with your hand underneath your belly just waiting to smack the next person who asks, “Haven’t you had that baby yet” and resisting the urge to scream, “Yes, B****. This is just a bad case of gas!” Oh, those last few weeks are miserable. I was an emotional wreck near the end of my pregnancy. I couldn’t turn off the tears. I cried in the bathroom before Christmas dinner at Baby Ruth’s house because she greeted me at the door with, “Oh, honey you ARE big.” I cried when I overheard Hubby tell the cat as I walked by, “Back up. Wide load coming through.” And I cried crocodile tears in the doctor’s office during my last appointment after she told me I hadn’t dilated any since the previous week. My wracking sobs surprised her, and she asked me if I felt bad or hurt anywhere. I wiped a big wad of snot off the bottom of my nose and babbled about “just wanting to have this d*** baby.” I must have been pretty pitiful because she laid me back down on the table, did a little sumpin’ sumpin’ and six hours later I was in labor. God bless her. I might have stuck my head in the oven if she hadn’t.

I feel for Mrs. Scrubs. The next few weeks will be tough, but it will be over before she knows it, and then the real fun begins. The 2am feedings, the spit up on your clothes, the inconsolable crying. Ah, yes. I don’t miss those days, and that’s why I’m going to enjoy this baby. I get to have all the cuddly cooing fun I want and then hand him back to his parents for the messy stuff. It’s been fifteen years since we had a baby in this family, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it. And I’ll be praying for the new parents because as some of us know, giving birth is really the easy part of parenting.

Oh Baby!

Looky, looky what I got….a photo of the littlest Hula-gen. He hasn’t entered the world yet, but thanks to man’s ability to bounce sound waves off a woman’s belly and create pictures, we got a glimpse of his face today. Actually, Super Cop and Mrs. Scrubs got a look at his face. I got a picture. He is 28 weeks old, and is no longer the size of a peanut. He’s about the size of a puppy now and Mrs. Scrubs and I think he looks like Super Cop when he was a baby, which basically means he’s bald with big ears. What do you think?

Note the 70’s cover on that sofa. It was one in a long line of loud sofa covers grandma had. Sweet.
We’re all excited about the new baby. He should land here just in time for Halloween, He’s only the second grandbaby for Zeke and Baby Ruth and the first baby we’ve had around here in more than fifteen years. On that side of the family Teen Angel has had the grandkid thing wrapped up for her entire life, and when she first heard the news about the baby she was briefly bummed that she would no longer be the only. She quickly warmed up to the idea when she found out it was a boy, running around the house singing, “It’s got a wiener. I’m so exited…” Now she’s all ga ga, baby this and baby that. She’s about to put me in the poor house, buying clothes for the little guy. Although, I must admit the onesie from Spencer’s that had the iPod dial on the front and “iPoop” on the seat was pretty cute.

Personally, I’m excited because I get a baby to play with that I don’t have to push out of my womb or feed at 3am. I can hold him, sniff his neck, play with his toes and squeeze his fat knees, then hand him back, go home and sleep peacefully throughout the night. And I get to enjoy the paybacks for all those times Super Cop gave me a hard way to go about parenting when Teen Angel was little. Ooh, God is good.

This newest ultrasound photo will be seen by anyone in a sixty mile radius of Baby Ruth’s house. She carried the last one in her purse and whipped it out to unsuspecting strangers, the homeless and any relative or friend who would stand still long enough to see it. It will be one of many photos to come, and if he continues to look like Super Cop he should be pretty cute. He always took the cutest baby pictures. Like this one. By the way, the new baby is wearing this same outfit home. Then there’s this photo.
And this one.
Isn’t he cute in his overalls?
Even when he had a lot of hair, he was cute. Poor baby better not get used to hair, though. It doesn’t last long in this family. By about age 35, he may be bald again.