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Talented and gifted...."Look Mom, one hand and eyes closed!"

3 months old and holding your own bottle. Not only holding your own bottle, but with one hand! Not bad, considering this doesn't usually happen for at least another 3 months. The photo doesn't quite show it, but you're actually holding the bottle. No, it's not resting on your little pot belly. Pretty amazing. Well, at least amazing to a first-time mother, who's always comparing her baby to all the baby benchmarks.

Although a coworker saw this picture and one-upped you. His son used to hold a bottle with his two feet as a baby. I was tempted to make a comment with the word monkey in it, but thought better than to use the words monkey and son in the same sentence. That coworker was my manager. The manager in charge of my yearly bonus.

MY AIM IS TRUE

Your dad and I had a battle over your name and he won. I let him. Really, I did. If I really wanted to win the name game, you'd now be known as Ellison Jane Hansen. Ellis for short. Can't say why I picked that one out, other than it's original and I had never met anybody named that before. As for Alison I think the main reason I let Dad have his pick is because with the house remodel, he'd been letting me have my way with a lot of the decisions. Actually, pretty much all the decisions. So, I figured it was only fair to finally let him get his way with something.

Besides, I made the following concession that in exchange for him naming our first-born child, in event of a second child, I would get naming rights. And if it was a girl, I was naming her Ellison. Alison and Ellison? I admit I used this ploy as one last attempt at getting my way. Would your dad risk having two girls with such similar names, or would he avoid it altogether by giving in to Ellison? Well, you know the answer to that question, Alison.

The inspiration for your name? Elvis Costello. Only your dad's most favorite singer of all time. Declan Patrick MacManus, known by the stage name Elvis Costello, is an English singer-songwriter. He came to prominence as an early participant in London's pub rock scene in the mid-1970's and later became associated with the New Wave musical genre. Steeped in word play, the vocabulary of Costello's lyrics is broader than that of most popular songs.

Had you been a boy, Declan was up there on your dad's list. But back to Elvis Costello. On his "My Aim is True" album he has a song titled, "Alison," and that is where you got your name. Here are the lyrics...

Oh it's so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl.
And with the way you look I understand
that you were not impressed.
But I heard you let that little friend of mine
take off your party dress.
I'm not going to get too sentimental
like those other sticky valentines,
'cause I don't know if you've been loving some body.
I only know it isn't mine.
Alison, I know this world is killing you.
Oh, Alison, my aim is true.

Well I see you've got a husband now.
Did he leave your pretty fingers lying
in the wedding cake?
You used to hold him right in your hand.
I'll bet he took all he could take.
Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking
when I hear the silly things that you say.
I think somebody better put out the big light,
cause I can't stand to see you this way.

Alison, I know this world is killing you.
Oh, Alison, my aim is true.
My aim is true.

That's the story of how you got your name. You can thank Elvis Costello. I at one point asked if we could spell Alison with two l's. Your dad told me we couldn't, or it wouldn't be the Alison from Costello's song. So now undoubtedly you will be constantly correcting people on the spelling of you name. Sorry, I tried.

WHO'S YOUR MOMMY?

With a newborn everyone is always curious to see who the baby resembles- Mom or Dad. With you it was no different. Everyone said you looked just like your dad. In fact all anybody saw in you was your dad. Some said they didn't see any Japanese in you, others said you looked really white. Is that such a bad thing? I don't know.

All I know is that after 9 months of carrying you, 7 months of nausea, countless nights of only 4.5 hours of sleep, and 23 pounds later, all I had to show for it was a baby that looked nothing like me. Were you even my baby? Had the nurses switched you at birth? Or were you the mailman's child? Wait, how would that work?

Regardless, I felt a little left out. Days out of the house I sometimes had the suspect feeling that strangers thought I was the nanny. Paranoid? Maybe.

Then three months into your life, it finally happened. A total stranger (the photographer) said you looked just like me! All this while your dad was in the same room for comparison's sake. Just to be sure I asked the photographer if she saw any of your dad in you. Besides the same balding head, not really. Finally somebody saw me in you, and it made my day.

But then on second thought, you look a lot like someone else...

See the resemblance? And so if you and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man look alike, and you finally look like me, does this mean that I bear a strong resemblance to the guy too? Hmm...sounds like someone will be headed to the gym after this to work off those last few pounds of pregnancy weight.

DAYCARE

You've made it through your first week of daycare at Julie's. Little did I know that your dad has been sending you there in pj's. What kind of parents does Julie think we are, letting our kid run around in pj's all day. Not only her, but all the other parents that have seen you, the new kid, in pj's every single time they drop off and pick up their own kids. Morning to night, you have been in pj's.

Is it a faux pas to keep you in pj's because it's an inconvenience to put real clothes on you? Or is it brilliance?

On my day off during the work week I dressed you in real clothes for daycare, much to your dad's dismay. The bar has been raised. I wonder what Dad will have you wearing to daycare next week.

BETTY CROCKER

I’ve decided I’m not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. As much as I love not having to live life by an alarm clock and being able to hangout with you all day, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not holding up my end of the deal.

Cleaning the house has never been my strong point. Your dad says I don’t clean, I just do a lot of moving things from one place to another. We have two housecleaners that help us out with the actual cleaning. Whenever your dad gripes about how much we pay them, I remind him that as soon as your big enough, we can take advantage of this thing called “chores.” We can get rid of the cleaners and pay you next to nothing to clean the house, claiming we’re trying to teach you responsibility. I am so looking forward to this day!

I’ve had close to eight weeks off and I still don’t like to cook. I dreamt that with all this time off I’d spend my days scouring through cookbooks, buying organic farm fresh produce at the local farmers market, and whipping up delicious meals with the new high-end gourmet kitchen your dad built. Yes, I told him that with all new Viking appliances, I was bound to like cooking more and he'd be guaranteed home-cooked meals, just like the ones he grew up with. I was wrong. But I’m pretty sure that the Freschetta frozen pizzas your dad likes must surely taste better, since it’s baked in a Viking range.

With me going back to work full time, I’ve calculated that I will be getting out of changing dirty diapers 40 hours a week. And this excites me! Who looks forward to going back to work, in order to avoid changing diapers? Yeah, yet one more sign I’m not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.

In an attempt to avoid doing laundry when we first brought you home, I came up with an ingenius plan. I went out and purchased a one-month supply of baby clothes. Laundry once a month? Brilliant. Only it wasn’t so brilliant. Nobody told me how fast babies grow. So now we have a month supply of newborn baby clothes that have been worn only once.

I did try to keep you in those clothes as long as possible, but when everyone started making fun of you being squished into your pajamas, I finally broke down and we moved you up a size. Only this time I didn’t buy a one month supply.


Some moms have what it takes to be a stay-at-home mom, others don’t. I’m of the latter. Whether you like it or not, you won’t be growing up with a Betty Crocker Mom who has fresh baked chocolate chip cookies waiting for you when you get home from school. But, the pre-made cookie dough at the grocery store is pretty good, and I know where there’s a Viking range…

FIDO

Flying with a baby...one of the worst anxieties a parent could have. Everyone has a horror story of flying with a baby. Either they were the parent of the crying baby, or they were the unlucky passenger stuck on the same plane as the parent of the crying baby. We've all been there.

Your dad and I were stuck in that predicament on our way back from vacationing in Thailand in 2008. We were the unlucky passengers stuck on a 13 hour plane trip from South Korea to the United States with the parent of a crying baby. Well actually, 4-year old kid. But he might as well have been a baby, considering how long he incessantly cried.

Why was he crying? He wanted his Spiderman doll. A doll that was pretty much life-sized, yet managed to be passed off as carry-on acceptable and had somehow managed to be stuffed into one of the overhead carry-on compartments. I admire the boy's mom for holding her ground and not giving into his tantrum, but was it really worth the whole plane listening to him whine, cry, and scream for over an hour? In the end Mom won the battle, he threw such a tantrum he exhausted himself to sleep, and he never got the Spiderman doll. And from that point on, I vowed I would never be that parent on a plane.

Thankfully, you helped me keep my promise. Your first trip to Minnesota for Christmas to visit the Hansen side of the family was a success. A great success. You slept the entire way there. On the way back, no situation that we couldn't handle. You were such a great baby, we actually received compliments.

The biggest drama of the plane travel? Your dad was too intimidated to change your diaper on the baby-changing tables in the men's restroom at the airport. Hmm, how convenient for him. That and while boarding the plane, the ticket agent stopped your dad to question him about the dog he was carrying without a cage. That dog was you, and you were in a sling.

BABY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS

 Well, you survived your first Christmas and accomplished most of the requisite things babies are supposed to do on their first Christmas. We had our first visit to Santa. Not only once, but twice. It took two tries to get a decent Santa picture. Two tries, and I still forgot to put socks and shoes on you.

I don't know who was more embarrassed at the mall. Me or the other moms waiting in line with their kids, for me. Since then, you haven't left the house without shoes and socks. Grandma Kathy must have picked up on this too. For Christmas she gave you about a dozen pairs of socks. Coincidence, or not?