Number of airplane rides we took during our three-week Christmas vacation: Five if you count every time we took off and landed on our way from Albuquerque to Mississippi to Texas and back. After all my anxiety, Kate handled the airplane like a champ. In fact, she slept through most of our travels. Apparently, to her, the plane sounds like an enormous sleep sound generator. Her fellow passengers loved her for that.

Number of aunts and uncles, other relatives and friends Kate met for the first time: 32 people and two dogs, unless I'm forgetting someone.

Number of Christmas gifts Dan and I bought for Kate: One.

Number of Christmas gifts everyone else bought for Kate: Eight gazillion. I am only exaggerating slightly, as you can see from this photo of Kate amid her bounty.

The gift Dan and I gave her is a Texas A & M teddy bear. OK, actually, Dan bought that for her, and while it's certainly true that Dan will use any excuse to buy Aggie baby swag for Kate, the teddy bear is actually an homage to the first gift Dan bought for me when we were dating, which was, you guessed it, an A & M teddy bear. I know. I can't believe that worked either. But I still have the bear, and I love it, and now Kate has one too.

Before you think we're terrible parents for only buying her one gift, and a fairly modest one at that, you should know that we had to completely redesign our packing arrangements for our return trip to include a suitcase the size of a refrigerator to accomodate all of Kate's original trappings plus her Christmas gifts from other people. This child now has a whole new wardrobe, multiple toys, videos, CDs, fuzzy house slippers, adorable stuffed animals and her very own inflatable yellow rubber ducky baby bathtub. Not a bath toy. A bath tub. You blow it up and put it in the big people tub, and the sides are nice and soft so that the baby can whack their head on the side all they want without sustaining any serious damage. Being a baby in 2007 is a pretty sweet gig, people. But back to the numbers.

Number of new rooms/ new beds we put Kate to sleep in during the course of our three week trip: Five rooms counting one hotel and one bed and breakfast, and four beds/other sleeping arrangements.

Number of sleepless nights all this change resulted in for me: Five. It turns out that the words "new" and "different" are not your friends when it comes to putting your baby to sleep. None of this was helped by the fact that about a week into our stay in Mississippi, Kate decided very suddenly one night that she was completely over being swaddled. Never wants to be swaddled again. Hates swaddling. Since she's pretty much slept swaddled since she was born, this represented a major change to be worked through, and working through it while on the road was, to say the least, unpleasant. But more on that in the four month newsletter.

Number of hours Kate spent being played with, walked around, held, and generally catered to in every way imaginable: Every single waking minute. Being the first grandchild on both sides of the family has its advantages. As oldest children, Dan and I both know that it also has its difficulties. For instance, it's pretty much guaranteed that as the years pass, Kate will get to do more than her fair share of babysitting younger cousins. But as the first baby on the scene, she has gotten an enormous amount of attention, so she can't complain. Basically, the drill during our trip was that Kate would go down for one of her naps, wake up, be fed, changed and generally attended to in all areas of hygiene by me. Then I would hand her directly into the arms of whatever aunt, uncle, or grandparent was standing there waiting. Then she would have at least one, and, at certain moments, up to five adults gathered around her doing all manner of ridiculous thing to entertain her until she started yawning or fussing or otherwise indicating her desire to take another nap. Rinse and repeat. Since we got home, she has spent a lot of time sitting in our living room, turning her head from side to side. I think she's wondering where her entourage went. Like maybe they are hiding.

Number of our belongings that will be returned to us via mail because I left them behind: Four. There's the baby monitor I left at a bed and breakfast in Fredericksburg, Texas, the cell phone I left at the security checkpoint in New Orleans, the blue jeans I left at Dan's parents house and the outfit of Kate's that had to be abandoned for immediate washing after Kate unloaded a massive diaper on it minutes before we were about to walk out the door on the way to the airport. Seriously, this thing was lethal. I can't imagine what would have happened if she had done that when we were in the air. I'm pretty sure an emergency landing would have been required. It was a biohazard.

Number of cars it took to get us and all our luggage home from the airport in Albuquerque: Two. Ours and our friends' Cody and Erika's SUV. You know people love you when they are willing to come out and save you from your overpacking.

How much fun we had: So much. It was such a joy to have our families get to know Kate and spend time with her. We felt so loved when we saw how unconditionally our families love her, and that just because she is ours, she is theirs too.

How good it is to be home: So good. I love our bed. I love Kate's bed, and that it is in a different room than our bed. I love our house. I missed our friends, and I'm glad to be back among them even as I once again wade through the process of missing all the family and friends we don't get to see because we live out here. This is the confusing part about living with parts of your heart in three places. But I think we're blessed to have three places that feel like home. Some people have none at all.

Number of loads of laundry I have to get through: Plenty. So that's all for now. But pictures and stories will come soon. Unless I left them in an airport somewhere.

Conversation that took place in our living room as Dan was helping me make a grocery list for the week. (Yes, my husband does the grocery shopping. Isn't that great?)

Dan: What do you want for dinner tonight?
Me: Twelve hours of sleep.
Dan: I don't think Wal-mart sells that.

So yes, it's been one of those weeks, and I apologize for the lack of posts. We'll be back soon, I promise. And if you find any sleep lying around, you know where to send it.

In honor of my 28th birthday, which is January 16th, I am posting a Jesus sign photo I took in the spring when I visited Mississippi. I can't believe I forgot to share it, but better late than never.

For a while, these signs were everywhere in the town where my parents live. I have never gotten a clear answer on who was distributing them, or why, but I think they may be the best specimens of the Jesus sign genre I've ever seen, since they combine a baffling slogan (Enough is enough? Enough of what?) with totally unnecessary capitalization. I especially love that the word JESUS is in really, really big letters. It always is. I think the logic is that if people are driving by at 70 m.p.h. and don't have time to read the whole sign, you want their eyes to be drawn to the important part of the message.

So enjoy, and if you've seen any better signs than this lately, don't hold out on me. Share. It's my birthday.

Dear Kate,

I'm happy to report that the vast majority of your fourth month of life was spent very happily, since for three weeks of it we were traveling to see family, on what Dan and I began to refer to as the Baby Kate World Tour. It became apparent to us pretty early in the planning stages for the holidays that our families would have totally been OK with it if we'd sent you to see them by yourself. As November turned into December, they'd say things like "Ten days until Kate comes to see us! .... And you, too, Haley! It will be great to see you and .... that guy you're married to. What's his name? Dan? Yes! It will be nice to see him, too!" At one point, we considered taking advantage of the free babysitting and going to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, or maybe just staying home and sleeping for three weeks straight, which to me, sounds like the best Christmas ever right now. But since the airlines won't let you fly unaccompanied yet, we came along for the trip as your chaperones.

For the first leg of the tour, you and I were on our own, flying from Albuquerque to New Orleans. I was really nervous about this, because I've flown a lot over the years, and have witnessed a few quite spectacular infant meltdowns on airplanes. Previously, I have been that childless traveler who knows better than to sit anywhere near the woman with the adorable drooling baby, because everyone knows that kid is going to start screaming the minute the fasten seatbelt sign is turned on. And I have always secretly dreaded the day when that woman would be me. But in the end, like most things I worry about, it really wasn't that bad. Maybe it was because you kind of liked the plane, and fell asleep almost as soon as the engines started droning. Maybe you really wanted the twenty bucks I promised to give you if you would be good, in which case, I had better pay up soon or face your wrath on our next flight. Either way, you were a model traveler, and had quite a fan club going amongst the flight attendants on our plane by the time we landed in New Orleans.

My mom, your Gam, and my brother, your Uncle Ryan, met us at the airport in New Orleans, and from that moment on, you were pretty much held, adored, and spoiled rotten for the next three weeks. I spent plenty of time wondering how you would react when you were back in our house with just boring old me for entertainment, but I mostly really enjoyed seeing you get to know the people we love.

You and I got to attend Ryan's graduation from Mississippi State University, which meant that Ryan got to try out a suggestion I gave him and see how many girls said "Awwww!" when he walked around carrying you. It's a shame we don't live closer to Ryan or you could help him get plenty of dates. ("No, no, she's not mine. She's my niece. Isn't she cute? What are you doing tonight?")

Also during the trip, I think my dad, your Geez, finally settled on a nickname for you. It appears you will be referred to as "Mini Moo." This, I think, is an extension of the dynasty of nicknames that dad has given to several of the girls in our family ... your aunt Audrey is Moose Baby, Aunt Hannah is Middle Moose, and now, you are Mini Moo, and complete the Moose trilogy. Congratulations.

One of my favorite things about our time in Mississippi was seeing how much my brothers really wanted to hang out with you. That makes it sound like I think they are hard-hearted baby haters, and that's not true at all. I just didn't think they would be so excited about a baby. After all, they are Marines. They drive trucks. They hunt deer. They are manly men. And they were putty in your hands. Baby-talking, face-making, catering to your every whim putty. If anyone wanted to hold you, they had to get in line behind Aaron and Ryan. It was adorable.

In San Antonio, you met your Aunt Hannah and Uncle Josh for the first time, as well as another very important member of the Wachdorf, Maggie the dog. We missed your Aunt Dinah and Uncle Chris, who couldn't get home for the holidays. In a few years, I bet you'll be able to talk your Aunts Hannah and Dinah into telling you lots of stories from when your daddy was a little boy. You know, in case you need some leverage when you're trying to get him to buy you that pony.

We also found out for sure that you have some strong Wachdorf genes in you, because you love to play cards, which happens to be the official pastime of the Wachdorf family. This has been interesting for me, because I not only don't like to play cards, I am terrible at it. I constantly have to be retaught the rules of any given game, and am incapable of executing good strategy when I do play. The family has been gracious to me and allowed me to sit out the card games and read instead, but obviously they have higher hopes for you, and it appears you aren't going to let them down. Every evening, you'd sit in your dad's lap and help him arrange his cards. By next year you'll probably be shuffling the cards yourself if the genes kick in all the way.

Now we're home, and you certainly are going through the people withdrawal I had anticipated. One weird result of this is that I have to sing the children's song "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" to you about a dozen times a day. Why that song? Because when we were in San Antonio, your Grammy Wachdorf started singing it to you and you loooooooove it. You love it so much that you will stop fussing and listen to it if we sing it. You will not accept just any half-hearted version of Old MacDonald, though. Grammy sang it to you with great gusto, doing the animal noises with particular emphasis, and that is the only way you want to hear the song. So this week, observers in our home would have seen me spending a lot of time working on a realistic "moo" sound to go with Old MacDonald's cow, and also claiming in song that this farmer had obscure animals like spider monkeys on his farm because I am running out of animals to sing about, but if I stop singing, you immediately go 'Aaaahhhh!" which is code for "Keep singing, woman, or I will make your life miserable!" Please remind me to thank your Grammy Wachdorf for teaching you this song next time we see her. Really.

So now we're back in Albuquerque, and it's like we've come home from with a different child, because you did so much growing up in those few weeks. When we left, you were showing no interest in toys, and now you love toys. Specifically, you love to put toys in your mouth, which is also where you recently decided your hands should stay at all times. You pretty much think everything should go in your mouth, which has resulted in some funny moments. One day during our trip, I was watching you play with your feet. You raised them up in the air, studied them for a minute, and then opened your mouth, clearly trying to determine whether or not they would fit in your mouth if you ever figured out how to get them up there. This has become your major project, and any day now, I expect you to succeed. That's the thing about you. You're always changing, and learning something new, and that's so much fun to watch. Thanks for being such a good traveler. I definitely owe you twenty bucks.

E I E I O,
Mommy

Our good buddy, Chloe, turned four a couple of weeks ago, and invited Kate and I to tea party birthday. The invitation, which stated clearly that no boys would be allowed, said that we could wear our best dress and bring a baby doll if we wanted. I figured Kate counts as my baby doll these days, so I got her dressed up and off we went. Here she is, lace bonnet and all, sitting up in her Bumbo seat.

Here is the birthday girl, Chloe, who is such a sweetheart.

And a shot of some of the tea-partiers. Thanks for a great time, ladies!

In case you have trouble catching the theme here, these are just a few of the sports teams that Kate's various relatives apparently expect her to root for in her life based on what outfits she's been bought. They appear to be overlooking the fact that she's got at least a 50 percent shot at having zero interest in sports whatsoever based on the fact that she is my daughter. But for now, she can't express her interest or lack thereof, so we're humoring everyone. Yes, she loves all your teams. She hopes they all win every game. Ra ra.

We start with the obvious: Daddy's an Aggie, and so are all the Wachdorfs. Grammy Wachdorf was physically unable to walk past this A&M cheerleader outfit in the Wal-Mart in San Antonio. I watched it happen. It was like the outfit had some gravitational pull on her body. It was the day of A&M's bowl game during the holidays, and so we had packed one of the many Aggie outfits Kate already owns so that she could wear it, but Dan's mom was trying so hard to rationalize this purchase that I couldn't argue with her. This is the conversation we had, word for word:

Haley: Oh, you know, we brought that Aggie outfit for tonight.
Lorrae: Yes, but this one has tights and long sleeves!
Haley: We're just going to be inside the house for the game.
Lorrae: But it's going to be cold tonight! I saw it on the Weather Channel!
Haley: You just want to buy the cheerleader outfit, don't you?
Lorrae: Yep.
Haley: OK then.

That's Grammy holding Kate up to show off her outfit.

Next we have a part of one of the many San Antonio Spurs outfits that Kate has ready and waiting for the playoffs. This one came from my cousin Shelley and her husband Phillip, who are rabid Dallas Mavericks fans. We don't hold it against them most of the time. The outfits are great, but my favorite Spurs accessory so far is a bib a friend of ours made for Kate that says "My heart belongs to daddy and Robert Horry." Kate might have to thumb wrestle me to see which one of us gets to wear it though, because Mama loves her some Big Shot Rob.

Next, we have the Florida Gators, courtesy of Uncle Josh, Aunt Hannah Wachdorf's husband. Josh, we love you, but Florida is really a stretch. If you find a little gator-shaped hat, I'd probably let her wear it just for laughs.

This next outfit is too big for Kate right now, but as you can see, she is about to chew a hole in that toy she's so eager to wear the United States Air Force Academy Fighting Falcons onesie purchased for her at the academy by her Grandpa Wachdorf, a proud alum. He has also promised to tell her everything there is to know about fighter jets.

And saving the best for last, we have the Louisiana Tech shirt that my dad, Kate's Geez, bribed my sister Audrey to bring home with her from his alma mater in Ruston, Louisiana. Daddy was concerned that Dan might not allow Kate to be photographed in this, since A&M and Tech occasionally play one another, but Dan says that since A&M always wins, it's OK.

I know there are more outfits coming. We've got multiple Mississippi State University Bulldogs in the family. We've got Middle Tennessee State University in there too. Dan roots for the Vikings in the NFL, against all reason. And one of these days I should probably buy her a Belhaven Blazers T-shirt, even though that will mean I will have to try to explain just what in the heck a "Blazer" is anyway. But all that can wait. I think I've confused the poor baby enough for one day. Go teams!