Over the Christmas holidays we were thrilled to get to spend some time with Daniel, who is my sister's fiance and soon to be the coolest member of our family, since he knows more about Mac computers, music and photography than all the rest of us put together. We love hanging out with Daniel and we were sad when we thought we wouldn't get to see him during Christmas. But then a photo shoot he was supposed to do in Nashville fell through, and he came on down to Hattiesburg for a few days, and there was much rejoicing. While he was there, he was kind enough to take some photos of Kate for us. She rewarded him by inventing a grumpy face that she made just for him pretty much every time he got the camera out, which was very frustrating. But Daniel is a pro, and he managed to get some great pictures of her in spite of her total lack of cooperation. And now we get to share them with you! It's so interesting to look at these pictures that were taken just a few weeks ago really and realize how much she's changed just since then. That's why I am so happy to have such a beautiful record of how she looked at three months.

This is my favorite picture, not just of these pictures, but maybe ever in my life. I think one of the powerful things about really excellent photography is that it allows you to see the beauty of something, even something you look at every day, and feel how amazing it really is. As a writer, I am jealous that photographers can do that without words, and can, in fact, make words seem so completely inadequate to describe the glory of the things God has made. This picture does that for me about Kate. I look at her every day, and I always think she's beautiful. She's my baby. But, like everything in my life, I also take for granted how incredibly blessed I am to see this every single day. This picture makes me feel the way I do when I actually take time to think about the beauty that God has poured into our lives by giving us this child. It makes me thankful, and I should be thankful.

I love this little face.

And little feet.

Here I am trying to convince Kate to smile. She wasn't listening.

Later we went outside, and Kate's Aunt Hannah was able to coax some smiles out of Kate. Hannah can usually coax a smile out of me too, even when I am being grumpy.

Kate was totally not cooperating for these last two pictures of the three of us together on the pier, but I love them anyway because I think they make a nice conclusion to these photos, some of which were taken on the pier when we were waiting for Kate. We had a lot to laugh about then, and we have even more to laugh about now.

And, a close second favorite picture, this shot of our little family.

As always, you should stop by and check out more of Daniel's work here.

If the Rice family still sent out Christmas pictures, this would have to be the one we send out every year from now on, because this is the best group photo we've ever taken. Much better than, say, the year Mom dressed us all up in matching teddy bear sweatshirts for our Christmas card. But what, exactly, are we doing in this photo? I'm glad you asked.

Remember when Howard Dean sabotaged his presidential run by punching the air and screaming "Yaaaaa!" during that campaign speech? Well, somewhere along the way, my brother Ryan started doing that during everyday conversations. This caught on with the rest of the family, and reached epic proportions during Christmas, when someone was going "Yaaaa!" at least once an hour. So when we took a family photo during the Lowry family Christmas get-together, we did one normal photo, and then one Howard Dean photo. Yaaaa!

I love my family.

Dear Kate,

When I think back on this month, I am of the opinion that it is time for you and I to have our first little chat about the concept of things I do for your own good. I'm sure all parents, at some point, say "I'm doing this for your own good," and I'm also pretty sure that there hasn't been a child in the history of the world who really believed it. But now that I've landed on the other side of the parent/child wall, I'm here to tell you that it's true. Some of the things that you detest the most are the very things that I am doing in my attempts to be a responsible parent. It must be true, because I'm sure as heck not doing it for the fun.

The best example from this past month that I can think of would be the ongoing battle we fought against snot. Yes, snot. You caught your first cold this month. I'd been dreading it. I knew it was coming. Everyone we knew was sick, and everyone we didn't know was also sick. I fought hard. I sanitized things and washed my hands and shot dirty looks at the lady who coughed all over you in the grocery store. And in the end, you caught a cold from ... me. We were a sorry pair, but I think of the two of us, I had it better, for the simple reason that I can blow my own nose. You can't, and while that may seem like a small thing, it meant that you couldn't breathe. So I had to do something you hate and get out the nasal aspirator, or as it is affectionately known in mommyland, the booger ball. This device allows the snot to be sucked out of your nose ... assuming you let me get anywhere near your little pea-sized nostrils. You very quickly discovered your hatred for this process and you're smart, so you also figured out that if you thrashed your head from side to side, it would be really hard for me to catch you. And during the day, it was hard. At night, it was impossible.

Being a mom, I'm realizing, has some moments that make Fear Factor look like a tea party, and for my money, one of the best has got to be the middle-of-the-night sick child obstacle course. I'd come into your room at 2 a.m., swerving like a drunk person from sleep deprivation, congestion and general delirium, and determine that in addition to being wet, hungry, and pretty cranky, you basically had no unclogged airways left. So I would get you out of bed, turn on the hall light, and stealthily reach for the aspirator. Invariably, you would see me coming, and start flailing. I'd give it a couple of shots, trying to strike a good balance between getting the stupid thing far enough up your nose to do some good, but not far enough up there to damage your sinuses, and you'd scream. If things went badly, I'd miss your nose and have to start the whole process over again. If they went well, I'd then have the privilege of emptying the snot out of the aspirator onto a convenient surface such as my bathrobe, since I always managed not to have anything else handy. I'm telling you, if this were on a game show, I would definitely win big money and fabulous prizes. But I'm not in this for the glamor. I'm in this for your own good. So please cut me some slack.

Snot aside, this has been a really fun month for you. You have, as predicted, finally succeeded in getting your feet into your mouth, and you suck on your toes quite a lot. Now that you've accomplished that, your goal in life appears to be to kick your legs incessantly. All day long, whether I'm holding you or you're playing on your playmat or sitting in your swing or getting your diaper changed, you kick your legs. I think you're building up your muscles for crawling, which is something you're also quite interesting in doing as evidenced by the amount of time you spend on your stomach, waving your legs and arms around like a tiny, spastic Olympic swimmer and then seeming puzzled when your efforts don't propel you forward.

When you do crawl, I expect to just look up from folding the laundry or something and see you going at it. That's how I learned that you could sit up by yourself. I'm starting to suspect that you secretly practice your new tricks at night in your crib to make their public debuts more dramatic.For the last few weeks I've been propping you up and watching you immediately slump over, so I assumed you just weren't ready to sit up yet. Then last week we had a Super Bowl party at our house and as I was putting pizza in the oven, I glanced out into the living room to see you sitting up in front of our friend Susie like you'd been doing it for days. Show off.

This month, you love to squeal. You've discovered that your voice is capable of great volume, and as I write this, you're in the living room, playing with your toys and squealing with delight about ... something. I have no idea what. But you're happy. You have also continued to like for us to sing to you, and when I got tired of singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm, I started branching out. You're currently quite a fan of songs from the Sound of Music. I picked these because I knew the words to them, not thinking you would latch onto them in quite the way you have, and now I sing "Do, a Deer" about 15 times a day and feel like an idiot. I'm still glad that you like music, even if you do have terrible taste. And I'm thrilled to say that this month, you have really enjoyed being read to. We have started doing a little bed time routine with you at night, and part of that is that we read to you from your little Beginner's Bible that Mike sent you before you were born. We started noticing that you really loved that part of the night, so now we read to you some during the day. Here you are listening to Dan read "The Little Pea," which just came in the mail from my friend, Cara, who wrote on the inside page "To Kate: Welcome to the beautiful world of books." It made me excited to think about all the great books you'll get to read for the first time.
I hope you will love them.

By far the most fun thing about you this month has been getting you out of bed in the morning. Most mornings Dan and I wake up and hear you in your crib babbling to yourself. After a while, one or both of us will come in to get you up, and that is the moment we love the most, because every morning, when we walk into your room and look over the side of your crib, you break into the most ecstatic smile the world has ever known. You are so happy to see us that you kick your legs and squirm and giggle and squeal. We pick you up and you snuggle your face into our necks and we're off on another day together, our little family. And life is grand.

I love you.
Mommy

Since it's an election year, I thought I would come out and say for the record that if I am ever elected president, the first thing I'm going to do is seek mandatory 10-year jail sentences for anyone convicted of running an Internet spam operation. And that's just for first-time offenders. Repeat spammers would get locked up for life with nothing to read but the drivel they've been posting on the blogs of law-abiding citizens. So vote for me. I might not know what to do about anything else (the war, the budget, health care, etc.), but you'll be free of junk email, and wouldn't that make you happy?

Full disclosure: I'm not sure if you've noticed, but over the last month or so, we've been inundated with spam comments on the blog, most of them from people allegedly named "Iris," "James" and "Betty." They appear to be posting some kind of serial novel in eight-word snippets. And trying to sell me real estate. So we've had to go back to doing something we've done in the past to try to prevent this, and that is asking you to complete a simple math problem before posting your comment to prove that you are, in fact, a human being and not a spam-posting android. The problem is 2+2. I don't want to ruin the surprise, but all you have to do to get your comment posted is enter "4" in the box provided. Unfortunately, if you don't answer 4, we will know you are a robot and a little gun will come up out of the screen and shoot you in the face. I know it's harsh, but I've had enough. So please count carefully.

Dan has set the new protocol up in the comments section, and we'd very much appreciate it if you'd help us test it out by leaving a comment. I think the sheer amount of spam has been discouraging people from commenting here lately, so it's very likely that you have many things you're just dying to tell us. Go for it. You can comment about the new comment procedure, anything you've read here, or just anything that's bothering you: Dan's beard. The presidential campaign. Amy Winehouse. Whatever. Just let us know you're still there, help us troubleshoot the new comment section, and if you have any problems, send Dan an email (daniel(at)wachdorf.com). I am probably kidding about the little gun. Unless your name is Iris.

Time to buy your plane tickets, ladies.

Albuquerque officially becomes a one daily newspaper town on Saturday, when the Albuquerque Tribune publishes its last edition. I'm really sad to see this happen, even though it's pretty much been viewed as inevitable for a while, given the overall decline in newspaper circulation, particularly among afternoon papers. When we first moved to Albuquerque, it was my fondest ambition to work for the Trib. It never worked out, but I have continued to admire them from afar. They always did the most interesting, well written stories, and had such beautiful art to go with them. From the outside, at least, it really seemed like a place where people cared about what they put out there, and that always makes for a better product.

I'm not in newspapers anymore, but I still care about them because I love them and I think they are truly one of the last things standing between the future of intelligent, civilized public dialogue and mindless cable news infotainment. So here's to ink. Best wishes for the staff of the Tribune. I'm sorry to see you go.

The other night, Dan and I realized that we have truly had our brains rewired by the little person who owns all the pink clothes and pacifiers around here. We realized this because we spent our evening going to Target, buying a ridiculously priced baby jumper and putting it together. When we were done, we were so excited that we almost wanted to get Kate out of bed and show it to her. Because we're that warped.

This thing does not exactly go with the couch. It looks like a flying saucer. It has a piano that plays a little song and there are places to hang the baby's toys. In short, it is so tacky that a year ago, I would have never allowed it in my house. But here it sits, in our living room.

And Kate does like it. But the part she likes best is the little mirror attached to one of the activity centers. She sat and looked at herself for 20 minutes yesterday, vain little thing. This makes me think we probably could have entertained her just as easily with a two dollar mirror from Wal-Mart. Suckers.

I frequently do these days. Here's why.