Our trip out to visit the Hilwig clan in southern Colorado was a success. We even managed to not get kicked off of either of our flights, as seems to be the standard procedure these days for families traveling with small children. But, don't get me started on that subject! I can't recommend Southwest Airlines enough. Not only do you get to pick your seat, which is KEY if you are traveling with a baby, but the flight attendants were incredibly accommodating and sweet. One of the flight attendants even walked Sasha up and down the aisle on our way back to Seattle in order to give me a little break.

Not only did we have great service from our airline, but we were lucky enough to sit next to very kind souls on the way there and back. Sure, Sasha is irresistible, but she had her moments in which a less patient person might have given me a "look," but I couldn't have asked for better seat mates. Christie was our travel companion on the way down to Albuquerque. She held Sasha while I went to the bathroom, and even walked Sasha around the plane for a few minutes.

On our way home, we sat next to a sweet young woman named Brita, who buckled my seat belt for me and held Sasha during one of her meltdowns. She let Sasha play with her gorgeous silver jewelry and didn't bat an eye when Sasha nearly ripped her earring out of her ear. Wherever you are, Brita and Christie, thank you!

Visiting the Hilwigs was great - Jack and Sasha got along famously as you can see from this photo:
Jack is adorable and very gentlemanly towards his younger cousin. Well, besides grabbing her rear end on occasion. Who can resist?

Sasha slept better than she has since birth, which I'm attributing to the high altitude and diminished oxygen to the brain. It's been advised that we not recreate this environment in our home in order to get her to sleep through the night.

Sasha loved meeting her uncle Stuart and seeing Nonna Connie again. We all took a drive up into the mountain pass, about an hour and a half away from Alamosa. We reached an altitude of 12,000 feet above sea level. For some perspective, that's nearly the summit of Mt. Rainier. Needless to say, I was a bit light headed, but the view was worth it.

Here we are, wearing our funny hats:

Sasha also went swimming in a pool for the first time. We went with Connie to Splashland, which isn't as exciting as the name suggests, but has a very inviting, warm water pool that's perfect for babies. Sasha took to the water like a natural, kicking her legs and arms. It's inspired me to take her to the local pool this year.

All in all, a fun time was had and we already miss Stuart, Stephanie, Jack, Xandra, and Connie deeply. We especially miss Stuart's fantastic dinners that he prepares each night. Stephanie, you are a lucky woman!!

And now, I must make like a geek and skedaddle. My new Harry Potter book is calling to me from upstairs and this is the only time I have to read it. Also, Jay has been unsuccessful in getting Sasha to sleep, so I'm going upstairs to rescue him.

Good night.

Tomorrow morning Sasha and I are headed to the wild wild West to visit Jay's brother, his wife, their children, Jack and Xandra, and my mother-in-law, Connie in Alamosa, Colorado. Jack is a new addition to the Hilwig posse as of September 2006 and the two cousins have never met. I'm excited to watch the littlest Hilwigs get to know one another.

I'm very unexcited about the hot desert weather we're flying into and the fact that Alamosa is 8800 feet above sea level. I get seriously woozy in high altitudes and the heat will not make things any less wooz-able. At least it will be a "dry" heat, right? Yep, nothing beats feeling like you're a piece of meat, stretched out on a rack, turning to jerky under the sun. Everyone's right. That's much better than feeling like a large furry panther, stretched out on a limb over the Amazon river, panting through the steam trapped among the leaves of the tree you've come to die in.

Can it be? Has Seattle warped my once sun-loving soul and turned me into a lover of cold, damp, dreary days and nights? And days? And nights? And ever may it rain into eternity, Amen? Usually I don't start craving a rainy day until the end of August, but it just doesn't feel natural to be this hot in Seattle. All I'm asking for is a light sprinkle. Just something to revive the hydrangea. Of course, you'll find me complaining about the eternal gray skies in about six months. That's what happens when there are only two seasons.

Which reminds me, I need to go turn off the water sprinkler in the garden and get to packin'. I have to find Sasha's bull whip and gun holster and polish up her spurs somethin' sparkly.

Giddy-yap! Updates on the wild blue yonder coming soon.

You wouldn't know it by looking at this photo, but I was pretty much out of my mind. Thankfully, Colleen and Kiela were not. Someday I'll share my story about those first few weeks.

Sasha fell off the bed (the very one pictured) for the first time yesterday. I came home from getting my hair cut and Jay gave me a challenging directive: "I have upsetting news, but don't get upset." When he told me she fell off the bed, I looked at my smiling, trying-to-crawl baby, surmised that she was just fine, and thought, "I'm glad it wasn't on my watch." Oh, you know I worried, too, asked all the right concerned questions, but I'm really quite proud that I didn't just freak. I mean, sure, I looked up "concussion" in the American Academy of Pediatrics book we have and ran over the symptoms list a few times, but overall I was just happy that her first real "accident" was pretty minor.

At last. I have at last begun Sasha's blog - the baby book of the 21st century. Many months of avoidance and fear of my "internal editor" have passed. I can almost hear the trumpets blasting in joyous reverie as I type.

At times I've pictured Sasha years from now sitting down in her therapist's office.

Therapist: What is blocking you from really accepting your mother into your life?

Sasha: Well, she nicknamed me Boo, for starters. That was fun. Boobie. Booty. Sometimes just plain old Boobs Hilwig.

Therapist: Kids can be cruel. Anything else?

Sasha: I guess what really stings the most...? I'm sorry, can I have a Kleenex? Anyway, what hurts the most is she didn't start my blog until I was six months old. (Sasha breaks into sobs)

Therapist: It's all very clear now. I'm so sorry.

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True, not every six month old has his or her own blog, lovingly crafted by one or both parents. I know it's enough that I manage to feed, bathe, entertain, and simply love my baby. Still, I've felt a bit of a slacker in the Recording of Sasha's Life department. I hope I can avoid further procrastination and make up for that now.

The beginning:


Sasha Evelyn Hilwig. Born on 11:05pm on January 14th, 2007. You were a healthy 7lb 11oz and 20 inches. When we opened the curtains in our hospital room the morning after you were born, the air was misty with ice crystals. It was a whole new beautiful brilliant world.




A few months passed.

My big blue-eyed Boo. We've survived the first few months. Sleepless nights. Breastfeeding. Not breastfeeding. Guilt, oy vey. You had baby acne on every square inch of your otherwise peaches and cream complexion. We had visitors: Colleen (more than a visitor, an angel who got us through some rough nights), your nonna Connie, your saba Mike, 2 aunts (Kiela and Yael), and one uncle (David; we're still waiting for you to meet Uncle Zach) Mariah who cleaned the kitchen and earned a place in Heaven. The days dragged and then they flew. We would make our way out of the house, you and I, at first tentatively, uncertain. By April, we were confident, ready for summer, off on our first trip together to the Breitenbush Hot Springs with Colleen and Mariah. We blessed you under the stars and moon while you gazed up at the trees, dark and stretching toward the night sky. My love for you felt at times too big for my heart.


And now.

Here we are. You will be six months old next weekend. Six months. An age that once felt like eons away. It's all gone by so quickly. Too quickly. And then, not quickly enough. Now is the best time. To hear you crack up at the funny faces, noises, and dances your father and I gladly put on for your amusement. To watch you gaze into a face and capture that person's heart with the wise, knowing light in your eyes. To kiss your belly, your toes, your knees, your cheeks, your soft head every chance I get. I love these days.

Yes, here we are. I cannot contain all my love for you in my wholly inadequate heart. There it goes, leaking across the keyboard, drifting up towards the corners of the room and then, caught by the breeze of the ceiling fan whirring above, it's pushed gently out the open window into the dark night.

I'll be funny later, I promise. I'm going to go upstairs now and curl up around you and go to sleep. Good night, my Boo. Sweet Sasha.