Mindful Integration

Defiled

2011-02-15T19:23:00.002-05:00

I have been chuckling to myself all day... "ha, ha hacker, you cannot steal the identity of someone in an active identity crisis!"

But you can. And they did.

Both of my emails are out of commission. One frozen pending investigation. The other wiped clean. No emails, no contacts. As if I just started it yesterday.

The first email I sent my husband, after that fateful meeting in the bookstore.

Gone.

The story ideas that I emailed myself.

Gone.

The latest copy of my resume, the correspondence with important and famous people, the first picture of my nephew that my sister emailed me.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

Remember how in that post a few days ago, I said the only way through this was one baby step at a time... well, now it's really true.

I cannot be deterred. I can only rebuild. One email at a time.

Now, this blog is linked to those emails that are now tainted, defiled, corrupted. The future of us here as we know it is uncertain.

Stay tuned.

And do me a favor, if you really love this blog... leave a message in the comments, or friend me on Facebook. I have no other way to get in touch with you if we have to go to another venue.

Mama.

2011-02-10T21:04:00.003-05:00

Well, today it happened.

I was loaded up with laundry, about to walk out the door while Charles watched the baby.

She looked at me, looked at him, got a bit panicked and said "Mama!"

Charles said later that I looked like I was about to drop everything and go to her. He is right, I almost did. But instead I said, "be right back!"

I must admit that I loaded the laundry at top speed, trying to get back to my little talker. She said it again later, holding on tight to me while we walked down the hallway, patting my chest saying "ma-ma, ma-ma, ma-ma"

Also of note today, she was standing by the bookcase, I told her to pick the bedtime book she wanted to read, she picked up "We're Going on a Bear Hunt" bobbed up and down like she does while we're reading it and said "Bea..."

Who knew that 9-almost-10 month olds understood so much? Remembered so much? Had such complex emotions?

Not this Mama.

The Dark Side.

2011-02-08T10:17:00.003-05:00

Part of what I now use this blog for is to document the parts of this journey of motherhood that I want to remember. I want to focus on the positive things, I want to tell the funny stories to all of you - my beloveds. I want to have things to go back and read myself when I need reminding of the beauty that is this time in my life.

But I know there are people that read this blog because they appreciate my honesty about this process. So this will be one of those posts.

Recently in the news, starlet upon starlet has come out to say they have suffered from and overcome postpartum depression, but rarely does anyone come out to talk about the dark side of being a new mother. And there is a very dark side, completely autonomous from depression.

It's not about projectile bodily functions - although those are bad. It's not about illness or tantrums - although those are bad too. For me at least, the dark side of motherhood is a combination of emotional factors that are very difficult to transverse.

I am an older mother - they checked the box on my OB form "of advanced maternal age" more times than I care to remember. So I had a well-established life of things that brought me joy and comfort. These things included: long, solitary walks on Saturday afternoons which I termed "wandering the planet", lectures at local universities on diverse and interesting topics - maybe one week city planning and environmentalism, maybe another week creating educational infrastructure in developing countries. Also, going out with my young single friends to do a little booty-shaking and youth-reliving, or enjoying a nice brunch with them after their over-indulgences.

Other wonderful things I did included: working out and working at a very fulfilling job that I loved and that happened to include some wonderful friends.

And that has all evaporated.

It's not that I don't love the baby. It's just that sometimes you feel like you've woken up to someone else's life. And for gosh sakes, someone else's body.

I mean, I didn't really realize it would be so hard to get my body back. That my waist would disappear and that my stretch marks wouldn't.

And there is this crushing responsibility to create the perfect child. To be the perfect parent. To try to be perfect in a pursuit where there is no real measure of success for 20 or 30 years - if ever. If it's even allowable to want to achieve some measure of success.

And - that you have "wanted" this for your whole life. That right now, there are people that want this more than they have ever wanted anything in their whole life - that are undergoing hell to get it. And I want this for them, but I hope they have enough support to get through the dark side, because if not, there is this insidious insecurity that threatens. Like an acid, slowly eating the soft parts. Your confidence wains, your image is altered, your ego is compromised.

This is the part where I usually try to reassure you that there is a positive outcome. Some silver lining. Some reason you should not fret. But this post is about the fret. It is about the times when your insecurities threaten your happiness, when your new identity threatens your vision.

The only place to go from here is along a new path.

One baby step at a time.

The more we get together.

2011-02-03T20:59:00.002-05:00

Sometime in November I noticed that Emmah really became very animated and happy in the presence of other children. She had always enjoyed going to the park and watching them, but this was different, she seemed to crave them.

So I decided that my Christmas gift to her would be more outings - even ones that *gasp* cost money, but gave her the chance to socialize.

Well this week has been a real turning point for both of us. I had quite loathed the whole experience of trying to connect to other mothers and force playdates and such. The ones that seemed crazy always seemed eager and the ones that I felt a connection to always seemed skiddish. So we remained alone.

But this week, we have been to two libraries for story hours. One turned out to be a wonderful music class and the other was a very sweet, good-vibed story and song time with the perfect aged children for Emmah. The youngest were 6 months and the oldest was a year. Ideal! Plus the moms were very friendly. Bonus!

This was the introduction song, a classic, but it really was an important message for me this week:
The more we get together, together, together

The more we get together, the happier we'll be

‘Cause your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends

The more we get together the happier we'll be.

Things I want to remember:

2011-01-31T20:06:00.004-05:00

I haven't done one of these posts in awhile, and there is so much to remember:

- You sometimes play peek-a-boo by yourself in the middle of the night.

- After your bath, when you are waiting for your infant massage and diaper, you laugh and - in all your naked baby glory - do what I call "insane kicking explosion!" - and if I ask you when you're lying on your back to do the insane kicking explosion, you totally do.

- You lie in bed and look at all your friends - Uncle Bob - a sticker of Bob Marley on the closet door that was left by some previous inhabitant and your girlfriends - oh how you love them. You laugh at them, you smile at them - your little animated girlfriends on the package of Spanx I keep on my dresser.

- Sometimes you can say words, but then you lose them immediately. After that, they are distilled down to sounds you recognize. Book becomes a hard "K" sound, Truck becomes a hard "K" sound, Chupa (swahili word for bottle) becomes "Pa" - I now see why families sometimes hold onto these mispronunciations, they are very cute.

- We read SO many books. This week we've been to the library 3 times, and have read each of the 45 library books that we checked out at least twice. Fine, some of them are very simple, but by the way, you are only 9 and a half months old. That's alot of books for one week - especially since it doesn't count our normal books and bedtime routine books!

- You love cats. It started at Auntie Em's house, with your love affair with her cat Deuce. Moved onto Auntie Nicole's house and her adorable cat Garlic, and now you make this loud "boop, boop" sound everytime you see one. In books, in stores, anywhere. We went into a pet store today to see if I could find you one. Eeesh, that place is like an awful pet orphanage - you were enthralled, but I was about to cry or buy out the whole place, so we retreated and will NOT be returning.

- You LOVE older children. You like other babies, but you really love looking at older children. You were mesmerized by our 13 year old nephew Donte.

- You can now walk holding onto things. You can make it from the sofa to the coffee table, from the coffee table to the entertainment center and from the entertainment center to the side table. You can also make it from the other chair, along the wall, into the kitchen, past the refrigerator, past me doing dishes, and all the way to the stove. Real walking cannot be far off.

- You are in this strange place between baby and person. Sometimes, I cuddle you under my chin like I always have, and I can forget in that quiet and comfort that you spill over my elbow and lap and around the corner of the rocker. And that 20 minutes earlier, I probably told you to do something and you actually did it.

- Because you understand so much more than we realize. You get very animated at some stories now. We read "We're going on a Bear Hunt" and you bounce and move as if you are on a bear hunt. When the little family gets to the cave where the bear lives, you freak out and are yelling in your little baby language "Don't go in there, dumb-asses, there's a bear in there!"

- You are very attached to me. We are in the throws of separation anxiety. No one else holds a candle to me. I am ashamed to say that I am cherishing that closeness, knowing it will be over soon enough. My sweet, squishy little baby loves me and wants to be near me all the time. What a gift for me.

- But I know that Daddy cannot wait until you realize that I'm just kind of "blah" compared to him - and that you shadow him around, like we know you will. You already go running towards the door when I tell you he's about to walk in. And sometimes you grab my fingers and go running down the hallway to find him. If he is waiting at the end to swoop you up, then you chortle and sometimes squeal. And I melt inside.

- It's almost time for us to transition to a different kind of life. A few more months. While it's so tough to be alone with you so often, I am trying hard to enjoy this time, knowing I will miss it with every fiber of my being when it is over.

New Attitude.

2011-01-30T20:34:00.002-05:00

I have a very bad habit.

When I am tired, which I often am these days, I can only see the negative.

I was very fortunate to have my dear friend join me at church today - not only did she help me baby-wrangle, but she also pointed out all the positive people. She reminded me, in her positivity, that I often choose to let one person with attitude or one thing that rubs me the wrong way to ruin the event.

It's a tough thing, not to take our pet peeves and have them taint everything. But I think that is one of the secrets of staying young - being flexible enough to preserve a bit of naivete, being open enough to allow people to surprise you, and being willing to allow something negative to wash over you so you can focus on and build-on the positive.

I know there is a real danger in being seduced into using the negative things in our lives as fodder for discussion, stories, and attention-getting drama. But we can also do this with the positive things.

I just forget this sometimes.

Thanks, friend.

On and Off

2011-01-28T21:00:00.003-05:00

The baby has two games she plays ALL DAY LONG - one is peek-a-boo, the other is On and Off. That's where she puts something on her head and waits for me to say "on" and then takes it off her head, and waits for me to say "off."

I swear it was cute like two weeks ago.

But it's where she is right now. She is "on" from the second she wakes up. Sometimes she even plays peek-a-boo with herself in the middle of the night. And she fights sleep and wants to stay up and wiggle and wiggle and then *poof* she is "off."

I'm a bit scared, knowing she will be walking soon. Knowing that she will get MORE energetic. How do you get more energy as a parent? I feel like I need a B12 shot, a massage, and a jog, EVERY DAY.

Don't get me wrong, she is SO fun. But keeping her occupied and interested and happy is hard work. Especially now that we are in the grips of separation anxiety - if she is even a little tired or hungry, she wants me no more than 5 feet away. So off I go, to do some yoga and then to curl up in a ball and relax before her switch flips back in hyperdrive again.

Day of Rest

2011-01-23T19:44:00.003-05:00

Six thirty: I begged my husband to take her and let me keep sleeping. And they gave me two more blissful hours. During that time he: changed a poopy diaper, did a mountain of dishes, fed the baby and got her down for her first nap.

Three thirty: I went to the store by myself. I talked to my mom without tiny hands reaching for the phone. And without a not-so-tiny voice vying for my attention.

Seven thirty: My husband put the baby to bed.

Today, I'm purely decorative.

And so it begins...

2011-01-18T20:30:00.004-05:00

The semester began today. Luckily, because of all the ice and snow that fell, there was a 3-hour delay for his school, so we still got to see the man of the house.

But we will miss his carefree moments, as he bears down to complete this most important task. We love him.

Here are some pictures of "Daddy's Girl" - she is so comfortable in his arms, she can be like this one minute...

And like this the next..

Help.

2011-01-16T22:20:00.002-05:00

As we headed off to church tonight, I was all ready to post on Facebook the following status updates:

I'm pretty sure that tonight at church, Emmah's prayer will go: Dear God, four new teeth in one week is too much. Love, Emmah. And mine will be: Dear God, when I buy lettuce and avocados at the store, I'm intending to make a salad with them, so could you help me out with not letting the lettuce spoil before the avocados ripen? Love, Kathryn"

Boy, am I glad that I did not.

Church went just fine, songs were sung. The baby did well. I did not throw up at the parts of the Catholic service that rub me the wrong way. People laughed and cooed at Emmah.

It was great.

But as we were leaving, there was a family outside holding signs that read: Please Help, we have three children and we cannot pay our rent.

As about a hundred people streamed out of the service to go to their warm cars, here was this family, with all three children huddled together behind this sign, looking ashamed. The oldest kid was probably 11 and looked dead inside. The youngest was just a baby in the father's arms.

Right there, my stupid jokes about prayers dissolved, dissolved right into tears. People were giving them money, which was good because the two collections had taken all my cash. And I don't really have any extra to give. But it reminded me that gratitude is so important. I have food. I have a lovely home. I have options. I have so much wonderful support from my family and my friends, it humbles me.

And my heart breaks for that family. Forgive me for taking a break from my commitment to be secular on this blog: May God Bless them with even a fraction of the blessings that I have. May they know security very soon. May those children forget this moment in their lives and go on to be joyous and productive.

And my I find a way to give back to those that I love, that love me, and some to those that need more than I do. Because there are so many, that need so much more than I do.

Advice:

2011-01-15T10:54:00.002-05:00

Advice to parents of 9 month olds:

Best not be too smug about getting baby in crib at 7:30pm. Judge the night after it is over, lest you jinx yourself and end up with a very unhappy baby from 10:30pm to 1:30am.

Be you not as stupid as I.

Success.

2011-01-14T20:08:00.003-05:00

The baby is asleep, in her crib, and I did not nurse her to sleep.

Even if it doesn't last all night, I feel like I earned the cupcake I just ate.

(Although I kind of just ruined the moment by doing this post. I found the above picture at Starbucks.com, on the nutritional informational page, and let's just say I'll wait an hour and then do an hour of yoga to try to reduce it's impact.)

First Annual Family Fun Day

2011-01-13T19:57:00.002-05:00

What can I say, it lived up to its name. And anything that ends in the baby blissfully asleep with no drama is a success in my book!

40 Step DNA rehabilitation program begins...

2011-01-12T10:31:00.003-05:00

How much of our likes and dislikes are determined by our DNA? Or perhaps our environment at birth? Can that be changed? How long does it take?

These are the questions that I am considering today.

Because the baby does not like the snow.

I was born in Canada in December. My birthday parties growing up were most often sledding parties. To this day, the feeling of my childhood revisits me after I've been outside and upon return to the warm house, I can still feel the chill on my skin, but I "feel" warm again. That feeling is as close as I can come to the happiness of my childhood, and I relish it this time of year.

Today was the second day that I took the baby out in the snow. She began by reacting the same way as the last time - just looking at it. This time, I unflapped her hand and she put her hand in it, mostly accidentally. Then she began to cry.

I reflapped her, tried to help her understand it by playing a bit and fluffing it around. No go.

My baby is broken. I blame the 50% of her that is Kenyan. I ordered a snow-lover. Too late to return this model, so we have now begun the 40 step DNA rehabilitation program.

Step 1: let her eat it.

She loved the texture, and I think the cold felt good to her poor teeth poking through, but she was shocked at how fast it melted.

One step closer to a snow-baby. Stay tuned for the rest of the program.

Our little world.

2011-01-09T14:58:00.002-05:00

The baby and I play this game. I float a towel or light blanket up over her head and then at the last minute duck my head underneath so we are both under. She laughs and laughs to be so close to me and because we are covered, in our own little world.

I love it. She laughs, but stays still and wants me to do it over and over again. And under that blanket, I can see her eyes glisten. I can see her sweet smile. I can hear her laugh up close.

That game, where we are a breath away from each other feels much like a metaphor for our life during the semester- so close, so interdependant, just the two of us.

I'm bracing for the last semester of my husband's undergraduate career to begin, and for it to be her and I again. Just a breath away from one another, interdependent, just the two of us.

Emerging

2011-01-07T22:26:00.004-05:00

What do you call it when a vigil is over? When people have been crouched outside for weeks, candles in hands, trying to bring light to that which is most important - how do they decide it's time to go home? When do they give up? Does the last person have to pick up the empty votive canisters?

I think they leave feeling with greater satisfaction, but wistful. Maybe they are mourning a bit that their role may soon change. Maybe they are wishing just a little bit that all that sense of purpose they had during the vigil could continue, because they felt needed. They felt important.

How do I know? Well, my vigil is over.

The baby has teeth.

Her tooth buds have been visible since birth and the doctors just told us to watch them and they would make decisions about whether they were natal teeth or tooth "pearls" when they emerged.

We waited.

Around 4 months she started to drool.

Around 6 months she seemed to have some discomfort from them.

Around 8 months I started to wonder if I should save some extra money for dentures.

Now, just one week from her 9 month birthday, here they are, not one but TWO teeth in a week. The first came through on Thursday and the second today.

Hooray!

She's been a little nudgy, evidenced by this photo from our snowy walk today:

Here's a picture of her looking the tiniest bit more peppy. She really does love to go outside for walks, but I do think she is still getting used to being in the back and not up front.

I'm proud of her for finding ways to smile and be joyful with two teeth making their way through. What a good baby.

Tiny Dancer

2011-01-03T21:29:00.002-05:00

Sweet baby girl can dance!

Somewhere in the last few days, she's started bobbing up and down at her musical table. Her great aunt got her a funny ball popper toy and it also plays kind of loud music - she loves it, grabs a ball and goes bouncing along herself to the music.

It's just one of the many things she tries out on a daily basis. Words, movements, facial expressions. They are all changing and evolving so quickly. I'm so proud of her.

So, hold me closer tiny dancer, you're growing up too fast.

Holiday Roller coaster

2010-12-30T13:06:00.004-05:00

I think for almost everyone, the holidays are an unbelievable roller coaster.

... up... - the baby is so joyful, she's opening her presents, I love life!

...down... - the snow is keeping us from driving to DC, I'm missing cousins and aunts assembled from across the country and they are missing the baby's first Christmas. (And her babyhood, since there is no financial way that I can visit all four states: CA, AZ, MI, and VA for the cost of a drive down to DC. It seems the irony of my life right now - all the time in the world and not the money to take advantage of it). In general, I kind of hate this modern world where friends and family are scattered. The people I love the most, that I want Emmah to see regularly, live in: GA, MA, NY, ME, IL, MI, AZ, CA, MD, VA,and other assorted places. She's already a seasoned traveler because of it, but I just wish they all lived less than an hour or two away. I miss them (alot of you read this blog... I miss you).

...up...- super sleep over and visit with friends, interview next week, and a fun visit to the city!

...down...- trip to the city ending in minor traffic accident, sore body, tired spirit.

So as I head into this new year, I'm going to try to ride along without feeling the push-pull of it all so much. I would like a bit more even keel, regardless of whether I meet my goals or not. I'd like us all to be healthy and happy and sane.

(Sorry for the blurry camera-phone photos, but I think the fun and laughter find their way through.)

Joy to the World

2010-12-23T22:23:00.002-05:00

Tonight despite the wicked wind, we went to see the lights at the local park. The baby laughed and screamed in delight - at the wind in her face, the lights, the characters and the flags waving wildly at every turn.

It was a better reaction than one could dream of. Pure Joy.

I am so grateful.

Somewhere there is someone that is twisted in knots of anxiety. That is barely making it through. Hold on. Share some of my joy - I'm sending it to you now. Know that you too can have happiness. Take it one tiny tiny step at a time, be patient, work hard, and get here.

And when you do. Let the past go. Enjoy this moment. Drink it up and savor it.

Images of life with an 8 month old:

2010-12-22T22:20:00.003-05:00

- You like to loll in bed with me. You act like you want to sit up, but when I start to help you, you laugh and throw yourself back down, laughing.

- When you are falling asleep, your fingers float up and hover over my lips - like the softest of butterflies.

- When we are reading bedtimes stories, I start with you facing me so I can see your expressions, but then you start to get sleepy, so I turn you to sit on my lap. You lean back into me and your head fits perfectly in the crook under my chin. Your hair is so downy soft.

- You are trying so hard to talk. You try to mimic the words we say. Sometimes you are successful, sometimes it is all jumbled and guttural. But sometimes it sounds crystal clear. Words you can mimic: book, bye, hi, beakus (don't ask, its a kenyan thing) and you are trying hard to figure out chakula (food) and maziwa (milk) - If I ask you if you want those things, you smile.

Special Day.

2010-12-21T20:18:00.002-05:00

March, four years ago.

I was from the gym, he was from work. Neither of us knew why we decided to go to that bookstore on that day.

But today, we took the baby there. To show her where we met. We went to the spot, took a few photos, bought her some books, and went on our way.

That was a special day. Kismet.

Today was a special day. I looked into his eyes as we were leaving and thanked him. Thinking of our life and our little family had me welling with tears. He made fun and I loved him for it. He makes life light. He makes the hardest burdens seem light and I love him for it.

Three things to never talk about:

2010-12-15T19:58:00.003-05:00

There are three things that I would advise any new mom NEVER to discuss in a public forum:

1) Breastfeeding

2) Sleep training/Co-sleeping

3) Returning to work/becoming a stay-at-home mom

I am continually surprised at how quickly things can get very tense when you choose to talk about one of these issues. People can get very dogmatic and/or defensive VERY quickly.

I'm not lying to you. When I called my sister to tell her I was pregnant, she asked me questions about how I was going to deal with two out of three of the above subject matters. (If you're reading this dear sister, I love you, but you totally did!) How was I supposed to answer, I was about 10 minutes pregnant!?!

So, for each of these, I have taken a "let's try one way that seems best and see" approach and then a clear decision about what was ACTUALLY best for that moment became clear - either reinforcing the original idea or in reaction to it.

Notice how I'm not actually saying what I did? How I'm not committing to talking about any of it here - even after 8 months? Well, that's how scared I am of the criticism that I encounter everywhere - mommy blogs, message boards, strangers at events, friends, family, dentists, hairdressers. Everywhere.

I made a slip today, talking about one of these issues on Facebook. (I totally forgot that when you respond to a note that everyone on the note can see it.) It wasn't bad, but I will NOT be lured into a false sense of security. I would love to talk about some of this, particularly my breastfeeding story, but I simply cannot take the chance that I will open myself up to more stress than I already have. And these things are so very personal. As personal as my relationship with my child. As intimate as my relationship with my child. And I have yet to encounter anything more personal and intimate than that - or anything that means as much to me, and that I take as seriously.

Period, end of story.

Now, if you are someone that knows about these topics in my life, then chances are I love and adore and very much trust you. If you are considering having a child and would like to know how I handled these issues, I would be happy to share my story with you - over a cup of tea, with a signed confidentiality agreement in hand.

8 months old today

2010-12-13T15:42:00.002-05:00

Things I want to remember:
First, what a sweet baby you are. Cuddly. Soft.

You smile easily. You have four hundred different eyebrow expressions.

You are so feisty and opinionated. You screech and scream to get your way. You are so smart. You can say "hi" in almost the exact intonation that I use.

You can point to things in books. You have favorite books, favorite songs, favorite people. And you teach yourself to do something, and then you can do it quickly. For weeks, you were not interested in puffs, preferring crackers. Then you finally got ahold of one, and were able to get it to your mouth. The next day you did it over and over again. Now only a bit more than a week later, I have to watch you don't go for a handful.

Crawling and walking are your next big hurtles. You can scoot about, commando style, turning like the hands of a clock. You can pull yourself up, reach for something with your hands, then take small steps toward it.

And you are SO proud of yourself. And I am proud of you.

Progress

2010-12-09T14:34:00.002-05:00

Sleeping with mouth closed. We may just survive after all.

The Worst of it.

2010-12-09T10:50:00.002-05:00

I got my daughter sick. A sick baby is the saddest, scariest thing ever. See little babies are obligate nose breathers, so when they cannot breathe through their noses, they think they cannot breathe.

Also they cannot nurse.

Combine those two things and what you have is a mom that just spent the last two nights trying to get a panicked baby to relax and realize she can still breathe. And that she will not die if she cannot nurse herself to sleep.

I've sucked her nose, squirted her with saline, communed with her in the bathroom with the shower running, held her, cuddled her, sung until I'm hoarse.

And she's not better yet.

She's still screaming. That has been her main way to communicate this intense discomfort - a high pitched, rock your eardrums kind of scream. It's maddening.

I've also realized that at 2 in the morning, when my husband is at work, when I'm spent and tired and cannot do it anymore, when the baby is scared and screaming and cannot sleep because she is so uncomfortable and when I have tried everything that I can think of. Those are the loneliest moments of my life. Lonelier than all my teen years put together, an isolation and a feeling of helplessness that I would not wish on my worst enemy.

And even if there was someone to call - a sick baby only wants its mother. There you go, an interdependence that there is no solution for. A relationship that for better or worse is the definition of closeness. Irreplaceable. And for those that have lost that relationship, it is wounding. Unhealable. I have watched it too many times - that loss.

So as I head into my birthday tomorrow, everything that I'd been hoping for has changed. I don't care about time to myself. I just want a healthy baby. I just want to not see that wild-eyed look again anytime soon.

And I want my mommy.

Forgotten.

2010-12-05T21:58:00.002-05:00

I've been sick this week, and so I have been procrastinating things that I want to do until I'm "better."

But I realized at some point today that I've been procrastinating these same things for months, years, and sometimes decades. Because they are the same things that I always procrastinate: 1) working out, 2) finding time to take care of financial planning stuff, 3) figuring out how to get stuff done without asking anyone for help.

So just for one week, I'm going to try not to procrastinate any of this stuff. Here is my "To Do" list for the week:
- workout every weekday morning (just for 10 minutes, c'mon, I can do that.)
- chain my husband to the table for 20 minutes and get our life insurance scenario figured out and signed up for.
- figure out a babysitter for a few hours next week so I can honor my promise to my old job to help out with two last things. (And then not make any more promises that will cost me money when I am not making any!)
- write another short story.
- do one thing for myself, BY MYSELF, in honor of my birthday. I feel like I am in danger of becoming one of those overweight, miserable women who don't even brush their hair because it seems too much effort in the monotonous chaos of their lives. I know we are saving every cent, but I really want to preserve any shred of confidence and identity I can.

I know this is a bit whiny, but it's the necessary self-kick in the butt that I need. And I need to document it.

Oh, and I totally missed this little blog's birthday - four years old! I really have to decide it's future direction. Any feedback would be great - since I'm not really sure it's as high up on my priorities list as it once was.

Love

2010-11-20T21:17:00.002-05:00

Lying in bed, our feet were intertwined.

Our arms were outstretched, with hands touching shoulders.

The baby was between us, nursing, but with her feet tucked up under her father.

From above, we were all the shape of a heart, with Cupid's arrow running through us.

My friend's dream...

2010-11-08T18:49:00.001-05:00

HowDoYouMountain - Your Mountain - HowDoYouMountain

My friend Nicole wants to go and blog and work for this fantastic place... this is her application video. Please vote for her!

She is the hot one in orange - "Nicole- the ultimate mountain enthusiast"

Various Photos

2010-11-02T21:20:00.002-04:00

This is from our trip to Georgia to see my dear parents, sister and my niece and nephew. That's my niece sitting pretty next to us.

It was such a fun trip. I love watching my parents being grandparents.

This was from storytime tonight. I wanted to take a picture of the baby in her pajamas to send to my aunt. But we also splurged and bought three new books today - (Shh! Don't tell daddy, we're on a budget and were supposed to go to the library) but look at that face - and $3 books for $20, what a bargain.

We bought one of my favorites from childhood - Snowy Day by Ezra Keats. And we also got We're Going on a Bear Hunt - which I want to memorize for car rides and a bedtime book that is simple, but with great illustrations and good tone - you can gradually get to a whisper, and that is Emmah favorite thing at bedtime.

These are the outtakes from our Halloween photo shoot for Facebook. The combination of Daddy's arm and the barcode on the ball made this one a reject, but I love how happy she is in it.

And Mr. T. Who doesn't love a beautiful baby girl dressed up as Mr. T - I pity the fool.

So I am supposed to write a novel this month. It's nano-writing month. Talk to me December 1st and we'll see.

Good morning!

2010-10-31T08:48:00.001-04:00

Sh*t Storm

2010-10-27T20:49:00.002-04:00

It was raining all day.

We missed our playdate due to illness.

Charles' uncle passed away suddenly.

Then shortly after he went to work, the baby had one of those epic movements that soils everything - the outfit, the carseat, me, my purse, the changing pad, everything. I had poo on my shoulder.

How does one get poo on their shoulder?

So then I spent the rest of the night walking back and forth with the baby to and from the laundromat. Because of course I couldn't use the carseat until I cleaned the cover.

Now it's nearly 9pm, I haven't eaten since noon, I have laundry to fold. And Charles doesn't come home until this time tomorrow night.

Ugh.

I think she'll keep me around...

2010-10-25T20:37:00.002-04:00

A photo of cousins:

2010-10-22T22:38:00.002-04:00

Baby 1:
"Um, excuse me, there is a stick poking me."

Baby 2:
"A stick! Hand it over, that sounds delicious."

The only Toy you need:

2010-10-14T18:53:00.003-04:00

Striped socks.

(Sorry for the blurry photo. Camera batteries are dead and my cell phone does not account for the frentic movements of a 6 month old)

The way a 6-month old thinks in the middle of the night.

2010-10-13T01:14:00.003-04:00

Ohhhhhh, noooooo, I'm awake!!!!! WAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Hey, there's Mom, Hi Mom (smile)

Mmm, I'm hungry, I want to nurse.

Oh, there's a light on in the hallway.

I can see myself in the mirror.

I like the strap on mommy's nightgown.

I want to nurse.

Oh there's a blanket on my legs.

I want to kick the blanket off.

I want to nurse.

This blanket feels good. What an interesting texture.

It looks delicious, I want to eat it.

My toes are delicious and are under the blanket.

I want to eat both at the same time.

I want to nurse.

I can see myself in the mirror.

If I arch my back, I can see behind me.

Oooooh, is that wicker?

I want to nurse.

Mommy is soft. I should stroke her.

Yay~! I can touch her hair.

I want to eat her hair, maybe I can pull it to my mouth.

I want to nurse.

I'm tired.

I can see myself in the mirror.

I want to nurse.

I'm very tired.

Half Birthday

2010-10-12T21:33:00.006-04:00

October 13, 2010 - Baby Emmah is six months old!

Things I want to remember:
- How you have become like a cartoon character baby, laughing and laughing, but also violently pooping and vomiting at random and shocking moments.
- Speaking of pooping, now that you're eating solids, things are more difficult. You look up at me like, "Mom, help!" And I just say, "You're okay, you can do it!" It's our little thing. And I am happy to support you in whatever way you need me. Oh, but I will laugh when you fart at interesting or embarrassing times!
- How when you are in bed with both of us, you will stretch your arms straight out so that you can have one hand on mom and one had on dad.
- Speaking of Dad. Gosh, what a lovefest. You have a relationship that does not include me, and I LOVE that. And luckily you both love me, so I'm never far away.
- You are sitting and it's wonderful. Today at the library, I plopped you down on the carpet, went and got some books and then came back to read them to you. So much easier than trying to lean over while holding you to sort through the bins of board books. And infinitely easier than juggling an armful of books and more than an armful of baby at the same time.
- In fact holding you and doing other things has become much more challenging now that you can grab things lightning fast. Where do they end up. Your mouth. Time to babyproof!

- How you "get" it now. You want to eat when we are eating. You see your toys and you want to play with them. You are focused on whatever we are focused on. Good and Bad. So you have an obsession with the remote, our phones, and the computer. Of course you do, those are the three things that distract us away from you most frequently. When I see this, it makes me turn them off and play with you.
- I LOVE to dress you up. But I really don't care for always making you "a princess" or some other uber-feminine gender stereotype, and so people often say how handsome my son is. Or things like "wow, he's gonna be a flirt and a heartbreaker." Because you are beautiful, regardless of race or gender. I get a little too much into the theme of the activity - overalls for the farm fair, all black for when your goth cousin came for a visit, etc.

- Sleep is still our biggest obsession. Although on our trip to Maine I discovered you sleep easily through the night when in bed with me. Slowly, we're getting you back into your crib, but its hard on both of us, because you are so snuggly and warm when you are right there an inch away.
- You are such a love. As long as you are not bored, hungry or tired, you are a dream baby - SO fun. I love to snuggle with you, love to make you laugh, and love that we are spending our lives together.

Perfect night for a walk...

2010-10-09T21:22:00.000-04:00

Hitting the Wall:

2010-10-07T21:12:00.003-04:00

from Wikipedia:
In endurance sports, particularly cycling and running, hitting the wall or the bonk describes a condition caused by the depletion of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles, which manifests itself by precipitous fatigue and loss of energy. Milder instances can be remedied by brief rest and the ingestion of food or drinks containing carbohydrates. The condition can usually be avoided by ensuring that glycogen levels are high when the exercise begins, maintaining glycogen levels during exercise by eating or drinking carbohydrate-rich substances, or by reducing exercise intensity.

Last night, my sweet darling decided not to sleep between the hours of 1am and 4am. At 3am, I hit the wall. I was at a loss. I felt so alone, so tired, so frustrated. I didn't know what to do. Finally I called my husband. He said "Cuddle her, she will sleep."

I was mad that his solution was so simple, but I took a deep breath and did just that, and she started to relax and then she slept. Well we slept together in the bed for another 4 hours.

I was still a mess in the morning, but better.

I swore I would not be an AP kind of parent, but I totally am.

On a lighter note... this helped me crack a smile...

Ah Maine...

2010-10-01T11:52:00.003-04:00

What a trip! My aunt and uncle could not have been more gracious about my sweet thing and I decending upon them. They were so generous with time and spirit and came up with lots of fun things for us to do.

Like hiking in the woods.

And going to the Common Ground Fair.

And teaching us new songs:

and...

Traveling Fools

2010-09-21T21:15:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow is the big day. That massive list is now divided between one bag to check and one backpack to carry.

Backpack on back. Girlpack on front.

Wish me luck!

(Maybe I wouldn't be so nervous if I weren't about to schlep this heavy, but sweet thing at naptime. Here's hoping white noise does it's thing!)

Just a simple list...

2010-09-19T23:01:00.001-04:00

Packing List: Maine Trip
8 days, 7 nights

Clothing, me
 Underwear
 Bras
 Nursing tanks
 Pajamas
 Pants
 Sweaters
 Dresses
 Socks
 Tennis shoes
 2 pairs of flip flops

Entertainment, me
 Notebook
 Baby books
 Magazines

Toiletries, me
 Shampoo/conditioner
 Face soap
 Comb
 Hair stuff
 Razor
 Tweezers
 Lotion
 Selected makeup
 Necklace
 Toothbrush
 Toothpaste

Clothing, Baby
 Socks
 Tights
 Pants
 Short sleeved Onesies
 Long sleeved Onesies
 Hats
 Shoes
 Dresses
 Sleep sack
 Sweaters

Misc, baby
 Diapers
 Bottles
 Pads
 Changing pad
 Thermometer
 Lotion
 Aquaphor
 Car seat
 Blankets
 Towels
 Washcloths
 Bibs
 Jars of baby food
 Bottle brush?
 Nosefrida?
 Mapap? (Tylenol)??
 Baby Bjorn
 Baby Mei Tai
 Nail clippers
 Bowls
 spoons

Entertainment, Baby
 Books
o Gnt moon
o Catapillar
o Polar bear
o Brown bear
o Are you my
o Going to bed book
o Mr. brown can
o Going on safari

 Toys
o One cube
o Both twiggas (that means giraffe in swahili)
o New beaver
o Mirror rattle
o Jingle samba

Ordinary People

2010-09-16T08:10:00.002-04:00

Oh John Legend, I know you are not talking about being a mom, but gosh this morning it feels like it!

So today, I'm gonna take it slow.

Off.

2010-09-14T21:24:00.004-04:00

This whole day has been just a little off.

Not catastrophic by any means, just off.

Like poop on the sofa, baby drool in your mouth kind of day.

Take for example this lovely photo of my dear sweet girl being hoisted in the air by her father:

Not only did this result in squeals of utter joy, but also in some drool getting in my husband's nose. See the velocity of the drool from that height when combined with the momentum created by the hoisting motion increased the acceleration, and when one takes into account the change in angle of my husband's face to accommodate both the increased exertion and the desired eye contact with the infant, well... there you go.

And as an added bonus, I was able to capture that lovely patch of our ceiling that has water damage... gosh, am I ever grateful that I now have a picture of that!

Five Months Old Today...

2010-09-13T09:45:00.002-04:00

Things I want to remember:
- How sweet you are. I know you are really awake these days because you smile broadly at me when you see me coming. If I say "hug me!" you will snuggle into me and lay your head on my shoulder.
- How your eyes light up when you see your boyfriend in the kitchen. You smile and sometimes squeal. Your boyfriend, the little animated guy on the Frosted Mini-Wheat box.
- How big you are getting. I know when I look back on these photos I will forget how big you seemed. But now when you lay next to me in bed, your body goes from my shoulder down to my knees. I have to remind myself you are still a baby.
- How sometimes it seems that you are still a part of me. How at 3am, when you have fallen back asleep on my shoulder, how the weight of you melds into me, making it seem like we are still one.

Enjoying the Moment.

2010-09-11T13:11:00.002-04:00

Sleep is my biggest obsession right now.

I want to be able to put her down to sleep, once, and have her sleep until she is not tired anymore. And I would like to do it with no tears. Magically. Starting tonight.

Deciding my plan of attack and implementing it on my own are daunting. But my husband's overnight shift and schoolwork make it such that asking him to focus time and energy on my obsession is unreasonable.

But today, I witnessed this:

At first, I thought, "Oh, she should sleep in her crib!" "What precedent is this setting? Will she always want to nap on me?!?"

But then I thought about it. This man loves this girl. Let them snuggle. Let them enjoy this moment together.

How many times do we rush through things, anxious for the next? How often do we miss something magical and fulfilling in pursuit of some ideal of perfection that may not even exist?

So today, I vow to snuggle. Regardless of consequence.

Oh and my baby is so sitting quite well these days. Still in need of a catcher, but soooo close to independence!

Welcome Back, Craige.

2010-09-10T21:36:00.001-04:00

We missed you!

Bionic Baby

2010-09-07T19:52:00.004-04:00

It's happening. We are creating the child that we always dreamed of. Now I am certain there will be times in her life where we wonder where she came up with things, wonder why she is the way she is, and wonder what we did wrong, but for now, it's so nice to see that she loves things that we love.

For example, she loves to drum with her dad.

The other day he came up behind me as I was feeding her some pears and started to use my shoulders as a drum. She started to laugh and move her hands... trying hard to imitate him. It was precious.

She's a thrill-seeker:

Whatever new thing she learns, she wants to be doing it. If she can sit, she wants to sit, even better if she can stand or see someone new. Or teeter on daddy's shoulders, dance with mommy, or explore a new place.

She loves the outdoors:

Look at those eyes. We take a walk at least once a day. The look of wonder is nearly always there. She loves the sky, the trees, the flowers, the animals, and the people we encounter. She's a nature-lover. (Nice shot of me enjoying a potato chip, eh?)

She loves to read:

The love of books is one that lives in every cell of my family. My books are my friends. They represent my whole life. I have enjoyed introducing her to some of my old friends. Not all of her favorites are my favorites, but when I start reciting one she likes from memory, she stops and stares at me, perhaps wondering where the book is. And if you show her the book, she lunges at it with the same hunger as her food.

Oh, and boy does she love to eat:

Here she is in her new high-chair. A new place of joy and satisfaction. And frustration if we are too slow in spooning it out to her.

I am thrilled with the person she is becoming. And she is leaving the lumpness of babyhood behind, becoming a sentient being with things to learn, relationships to develop, and a whole world to change.

What Not To Wear.

2010-09-02T16:08:00.004-04:00

If you are chubby, there are things that are difficult to pull off, no matter how hard you try... these are tough looks to pull off.

Skull caps in colors that wash out your skin tone:

Leg warmers:

You are not a dancer yet, baby. Oh, and note the socks are too small. But they did not fall off!

Horizontal stripes:

All of the above together:

Yes, we went for a walk this way. She got quite the looks.

And so it begins...

2010-08-31T20:02:00.004-04:00

Today was the long awaited day. My husband started classes yesterday, and today was our first full day without him. We said goodnight and goodbye to him Monday and we'll see him for a few hours Wednesday. 36 long hours without the man of the house.

In an effort to start the day off on a positive note, we took a walk.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped to see this:

I was so excited to show it to the baby, because the last page of one of her favorite books (The Very Hungry Caterpillar) is, of course, "And he was a beautiful butterfly!" So seeing such a beautiful specimen up close and personal felt very special.

We continued walking, and while looking in a shop window, I realized something...

No socks! She had them on when we left the house.

And so the GREAT SOCK HUNT of 2010 began.

We began to retrace our steps. We asked a kind woman with a dog if she had seen any baby socks, (Thinking of course that a good bloodhound would not let something as smell-er-ific as baby socks pass him by.) and she said "No." So I said, "Oh, we are hunting for them." She gave me an odd look and said "Sounds fun, good luck." (Apparently, the dog was not a bloodhound, but some kind of beagle.)

We had a few false starts, leaves that looked like socks from far away...

Other baby paraphernalia that clearly did not belong to us.

It was a long walk back the way we came, but we continued on, and a few blocks up, we had our first break in the case:

We walked and walked and walked. Scanning the sidewalks, the grass on either side, trying to remember the exact walkways we used.

We were losing steam and losing hope. What does one do when there is only one of a pair? A question of great magnitude on a day such as this.

Finally, just two doors down from home, we happened upon this little guy:

Don't smirk like that at me, young man, do you know what you put us through?

The great sock hunt was finally over, we were home, completely outfitted again.

But the whole thing was clearly exhausting for poor baby.

I understand, it takes a lot of energy when you are missing things.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

2010-08-28T09:09:00.003-04:00

I woke up from a nightmare around 4:30 this morning.

That's right... I was dreaming.

The average body needs between 70 and 90 minutes to hit REM sleep and begin dreaming. If your baby wakes up every two hours, takes 15 - 20 minutes to put back down, then even if you have the fortune of falling asleep again immediately, you still don't have enough time to start dreaming before the little darling wakes up again.

Ah, but by some voodoo magic, my sweet girl slept through the night last night. 9pm to 5am. I slept from 9:30 to 4:30... count them... that's seven beautiful, uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Thank you baby, I needed that.

Now, what do you think I dreamt about? Babies? Sleeping? Not working?

No, I was embroiled in a thriller, where a group of tourists were being held captive by a psychotic sex fiend, and I was the only one that could save them. Apparently, I used to date him, so I had insider information~!

Oh subconscious, you really want my life to be much more interesting, don't you?

Now, when you are used to nursing every two hours and then you go seven, it is not so comfortable when you wake up. The baby might have slept longer if I wasn't pacing back and forth in front of her crib watching and waiting for her to help me out.

Stop reading now if you you are considering hiring me for a job, used to work with me, would like to someday work with me, like to think of me in a very professional way, or just don't want too much information about nursing.

But for those of you that are wondering, "What does it feel like when you are used to nursing every two hours and then you go seven?" Well, it's not unlike someone that might choose to have two bags of marbles permanently attached to their chest. Perhaps that look will become a new trend in plastic surgery?

There you go. TMI.

We all need a little help from our friends.

2010-08-22T21:11:00.004-04:00

Friday night, for the first time since the baby was born, Charles got to go out with his brother and a friend for their Friday night drink. It used to be a tradition, and the baby has seriously distracted him away from it.

I was happy he was doing something for himself. And so insanely jealous that I nearly had a nervous breakdown.

I have more than my fair share of anxiety these days: a husband with two full-time jobs and full time school, the hasty departure from a career I adored, gobs of time alone with a 4-month old and not enough happy-go-lucky songs in my song repertoire.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, Charles came home from his overnight job and I handed him the baby. No shower, no tea... just handed him the baby and headed for the bed. I slept and cried for a good portion of the morning. Finally, one of my closest friends called and I got to talk to someone and figure out what was going on. She and I figured out some things for me to consider doing to stay sane once Charles goes back to work tomorrow and school next Monday. Things that might help me feel less alone and more connected, and maybe find an endorphin or two in the cobwebs of my body.

Shortly after talking to her, I went onto Facebook and another friend of mine had raised an "S.O.S" flag. She has just given birth to her second son (on Wednesday night) and her husband needs to go back to work on Monday. Thinking of her floundering in the same way that I did when our baby was a week or so old was enough for me to snap out of my funk. (And thinking of how she called me to check in when Emmah was 6 days old and then came running over when I threw up a similar s.o.s. - she helped me so much that day, that I felt like I could breathe again) I went over today and she is actually doing great. I'll stop by a few times this week to check on her and bring some things.

But it has made me remember two things:
1) I am lucky, and I have a ton of adoring friends that have helped me so much in the last 4 months. I am so grateful to them. Moms and non-moms that check in with me, come over and hold that cute little thing. They have driven me places. They have cooked and cleaned for me. They have taken me out to dinner, made me dinner, and brought me dinner. And they continue to give me help and support whenever this endeavor gets overwhelming. And it gets OVERWHELMING.

and 2) That sometimes, we need to move outside of what WE need to help other people. Even when you feel like the world owes you something or that your burden is unbearable, someone else needs you. And maybe that little thing that you figure out to give... that small gesture... maybe it means the world to them in that moment. Maybe it gets them through.

So thank you, to all my friends, for giving me those moments, hours, and days of your time. They have gotten me through, they have gotten me this far, and I feel confident we can get through this next crazy hump with all of you to keep us happy, laughing, and entertained.

This is, of course, just a few of the all-stars, I could not be doing any this without my wonderful family and all my wonderful friends.

Avocado and Lime, exclamation point!

2010-08-19T20:27:00.003-04:00

A typical day for me here: Up at 1am, 3am, 5am. Finally relenting at 5am to bring the wee 'ting into bed. Up at 7:30 for the day.

We threw on a new dress that we got for $3, and headed down to meet "daddy" as he returned from his overnight shift. We see the same folks every morning: First, the maintenance man who perpetually has an unlit, half smoked cigar in his mouth. Then the younger maintenance man who pulls up in his fancy truck, goes inside and grabs a grubby white trash can and starts to walk the grounds. Finally, our patience is rewarded and we see my husband turn into the driveway.

The baby never recognizes him at first. Finally, he'll say "Hey!" or something and she snaps her mind out of the trees, the sky, and her snuggling-fest with me to actually see him.

But I had a dentist appointment today, so I went running off quickly after his arrival. Interesting fact: having your teeth drilled IS in fact more relaxing than hearing your baby scream. I had both today, so I know.

Weird hygienist. An older lady that in the span of 30 minutes tried to convince me that her daughter should babysit for me, tried to teach me how to floss (I am 36, I have been flossing for three decades), and twice tried to convince me that my pregnancy gingivitis was a precursor to major bone loss.

But then I ran home at top speed, we visited a friend whose sweet, sweet parents are returning to Russia this week. I feel for her. She has had them here for a year, alternating between Mama and Papa. We will miss them and their delicious food, their sweet and nearly smothering attention, and their kindness - I can only imagine how hard it will be for her and their baby.

Then the girl and I took at walk, a trip to buy baby spoons with daddy, and then the exhausted one fell asleep. While I was nursing her my husband made dinner - chicken, broccoli, avocados with salt and lime. Simple but delicious.

So there you go... my new life.

..huddled masses yearning to breathe free...

2010-08-18T11:14:00.002-04:00

I think the joy of having a wonderful partner in this confusing drama of new parenthood, is that the two of you can huddle over your bundle of joy and worry together.

I have spent countless hours in the last four months standing next to my sweet husband and freting over some small thing... a small rash, an oddly soiled diaper, a slight fever.

If someone were to paint a portrait of this first few months, it would be of us, over at her changing table, poking and worrying. Luckily, everything resolves fairly quickly, but it is nice to have someone that is just as obsessed with the details, so I feel less alone and more reassured.

The semester is starting next week. I feel a bit like my partner is about to be sucked away into a tornado. I know just how hard it is to focus on his schoolwork, and this is a very important semester. Small girl and I are going to try not to be too much of a distraction. We're beginning to think about a few trips here and there to keep us busy and to give him time to work.

The end is in sight, he will graduate in May, but in the meantime there is much work to be done! I am proud of him for all his dilgence, his dedication, and his work ethic. And I cannot wait to see him in his mortar board!

But we are going to miss him in those moments when he has to work. And I will miss my worry-buddy!

Detox

2010-08-14T21:10:00.003-04:00

This week was a roller coaster. I don't even have the energy to go into it.

Quite honestly, I just want to move on.

So today, we woke up and the three of us cuddled in bed, laughing and laughing. Then we went to the "magic" produce store and I indulged in fancy things like leeks and eggplant (and still spent less than $30 dollars, hence why I call it magic). Walked to the other store for a few more things. Made a delicious soup: chicken soup with leeks, carrots and dill. Then we had a family nap and then a family walk.

It was great. Now hopefully we're in for a good night's sleep and another day of gorgeous weather tomorrow.

My to-do list for tomorrow: just be in the moment.

(These arrived in the mail today, addressed to the baby. I love them and cannot wait to formulate some sort of hipster outfit to show them off, something that is layered and complex in it's color combinations. But then I plan to have her wear them constantly, they are in fact her first pair of shoes.)

Four months old today.

2010-08-13T20:07:00.002-04:00

Today sweet girl is four months old. Which just happens to correspond with my first official day as a stay-at-home mom. It was a messy few weeks that led up to this day, but we are glad that it is here and we will go forward and reinvent ourselves when the time is appropriate.

Things I want to remember:
- That the first full day I was away from you, when I came back and you saw me, you screamed with delight, laughed and smiled, and then cried your eyes out all the way home. Missing me must have been exhausting, because you nursed for hours, then you slept nearly through the night. Falling asleep at 7:30, waking for 2 minutes at 2am, and then sleeping again until 6am. Thank you for that. I needed it too.

- That you gargle sounds in the back of your throat most of the time, punctuated by screams, proper coos, and laughs.

- That we blow raspberries at you so often, that you are now working hard to do them too, even though they really come out as spitting.

- That today at the doctor, you were up to 90th percentile for height. You can sit on my lap and nurse now, with your feet dangling off my legs... as if you are already a toddler.

- That you were also still in the 95th percentile for weight. We get to start solid foods next week, in an effort to fill your belly with less calories. We'll see how that goes.

- That your dad now has his own routine to put you to sleep, after 4 days with you. I know they were exhausting for him, but I LOVE seeing you two together, so comfy and secure with each other. You are both lucky.

- That the day that I had my going away party felt bad, but the next day when you were there and everyone could see what I was going to, well frankly, that felt glorious.

- That you now love your little lambie, your favorite stories, and certain songs we sing. I know they will change over the years, but you already have so many opinions. And you are trying hard to teach us what you like!

- That even though you want to be doing all the challenging things you can manage: standing on our laps, sitting up, pulling your head up all the time, rolling, playing with your toys and your toes... even with all of that advanced stuff, you still want to snuggle into my neck or the crook of my arm and rest with me. You are a snuggly sweetheart. A snuggly sweetheart with alot of opinions.

Experiment

2010-08-03T22:11:00.003-04:00

This is the first personal video I have ever uploaded...let's see if it works!

(Just in case you have forgotten how small she was.)

But look at her now!

****um, okay, the video did not work.

Elegant Baby

2010-07-31T08:26:00.004-04:00

There is a rich choreography that happens at night in our house. Our sweet girl twists and turns to expose her hands and feet. The elegance and grace continues, as she deftly lifts her hands and feet in the air. First, the hands come up and wave about, then the feet come up together, high in the air.

Then she farts.

It happens usually at 2am, usually it does not wake her up.

The other thing she does that cracks us up, is whenever you set up a certain yellow highlighter, she goes for it.

With her forehead.

Once she has head-butted it, she can relax, but not until then.

She never reaches for it with her hands.

Firsts.

2010-07-30T15:42:00.003-04:00

This week we:
- Got a library card.

- Made it through a half dozen books on two different days.

- Signed up for an Infant Sign Language class.

- Fell asleep in the carseat on the way home with NO TEARS.

It was hugely successful. We love libraries.

In case you had a bad week...

2010-07-23T21:52:00.002-04:00

Just remember we love you. Call if you need anything. And come over for a snuggle if you like.

Finding Magic

2010-07-20T20:56:00.004-04:00

Today was a big day.

Emmah and I went into the city to meet my workmates and talk to my boss. It was her first train ride, her first experience in the city, her first time in a revolving door, and she took it all in with big wide eyes.

We got onto the train and she lay her head on my chest and just watched out the window - mesmerized. And just like me, she started to get sleepy after 20 minutes, so we napped together as the train rocked back and forth.

Everywhere we went people smiled at us. One man held the door open and said "Your baby is so cute, she brings a smile to every one's face who sees her!"

But today was more than just an adventure to say hello to our friends. Today I finally had the courage to tell my boss that my life is different and that all that I thought would work will not work. I finally got a chance to admit that this has been harder than I could have ever imagined. I finally got a chance to say that I am not superwoman. I finally got to verbalize that I want to be a good mom and raise a happy child. I finally told someone that I need more help than I have, and that I cannot do more than I am doing right now.

My dear friend Gina once sent me an email from a website called "Peaceful Daily" - I liked the email, so I subscribed to the emails myself. This is what Friday's email was:
July 16, 2010
Finding Magic at Home

At the last minute I did not have a tip for today, so I asked my 6 year old daughter, Topanga, if she had a tip for me. Her exact words were, "stay home and you will find the magic."

A part of my heart broke because I thought maybe she was saying we didn't stay home enough. Then I decided not to overanalyze it. Maybe she is just an angel with a message! I am after all a stay at home mom, who likes to think I don't have a crazy busy schedule. Who knows maybe it was directed at me. I am looking forward to the next month at home with my kids doing what I love most ...nothing! Maybe we should all take Topanga's advice and stay home and find the magic!

Peace, Love & Happiness,

Sandy

What Sandy did not understand was that those words felt like validation at a moment when I was completely obsessed with the task of today. I cried at the idea of that her daughter, that young girl, was speaking those words directly to me, because my girl cannot yet speak for herself. It felt weighty. It felt like a sign.

Today, I did not stay home. No final decisions have been made. No plan is set.

But...

I know I will have more time. More time to watch the wonder on my baby's face to discover new things. More time to introduce her to new people. More time to nurse her and cuddle her. More time to have her know that I am here for her.

And that being here for her is the most important job in the world.

Three Months Old Today

2010-07-13T21:43:00.002-04:00

Things I want to remember:
- How you sometimes after a nap, you open your eyes and smile when you realize you are in my arms.

- How you laugh when you see the fire extinguisher in the kitchen.

- How much you love books already.

- How you gaze up as we walk under trees to look at the contrast between the leaves and the sky.

- How your rolls have rolls.

- How I can see my reflection in your eyes.

- How warm you are while you are nestled against my breast.

- How you watch the kitchen door to see when I will come out to play with you.

- How your mouth looks like a little triangle when you coo.

- How you are now too big for me to nurse you and hold you with one arm while wandering around the apartment.

- How your hair is soft and downy, and now is a faint halo of fuzz around your whole head.

- How you laugh when we show you how the light switch works in the bathroom.

- How you grasp my shirt while you are nursing.

- How excited you are when we put you in a sitting or standing position.

- How you take your tiny hands and put them on my face while I talk to you up close.

- How you coo and coo when I kiss you.

Thank you, my dear, for changing how I see the world and for changing my whole life.

Things you need before you have a baby:

2010-07-07T21:22:00.003-04:00

1) A fantastic group of friends and family to support you.

It takes a village to raise a child. It really does. And phone calls and short visits from friends and family are not enough. You need constant support and your child needs to feel part of a community. I have fantastic friends and a loving family, but I still feel like I need more. Maybe there is no such thing as enough help, you could always use more.

I now believe you need:
3 adults full-time for the first 3 weeks
2 adults full-time for the first 8 weeks
1 adult full-time for the first 6 months to the first two years, depending on who you are.
2 good babysitters, one for the daytime and one for the evenings - for when you need a break.

Anything short of this and you will be exhausted and you will wonder if you can handle it all.

2) A very loud bathroom fan.

Babies love white noise. They will love it. And bonus, you can enjoy a nice relaxing shower regardless of how fussy your baby is with whomever is watching them during that time. I have this.

3) One year of your salary in savings.

Just in case you need more time than you thought. I do not have this. I would do anything to figure out a way to have more time.

4) A therapist.

Because the pressure and anxiety of trying to be a modern mom is formidable.

I start working from home tomorrow, and I could not be more anxious about it.

(This is obviously not a current photo of the little girl, but it is one of my favorites, and I love the expression on her face... a little anger, a little rebuking, and a lot of attitude. Don't worry cute face, we'll figure this out!)

Sleep Myths Debunked

2010-07-07T01:38:00.004-04:00

If you are someone that is planning to have children, if you are like me, you will read books about how to make your child sleep. Because, if you are like me, you LOVE to sleep, sleep is your favorite hobby. And, if you are like me, once you have your baby, you will discover that there are myths and misnomers in said books and in the lore around babies.

MYTH #1: You can put a baby to sleep awake.

In many books, there is this mythical baby that you can put down to sleep full and awake and they will drift off to a peaceful sleep on their own. In my research, this baby does not exist. I know of NO ONE that has a baby that does not need to be nursed, rocked, bounced, or patted to sleep. I thought I knew one once, but months later his mom revealed to me that the baby sleeps in the bed with them. That does not count, if you have the baby on your body, the baby will sleep, this is not what the books are talking about. What they mean is putting the baby down in a crib awake and walking away. If you do this, babies cry.

MYTH #2: Sleep when the Baby sleeps.

Now, I LOVE to sleep, but I am not a baby. There are many, many times when I can wake up, feed her, snuggle her, put her back down, and crawl back into bed and go to sleep, but there are also many, many times when I wake up, it takes me 2 hours to go back to sleep and then I have exactly one hour of sleep before she wakes up again. Also, during the day there is no way to tell if she will sleep for 20 minutes or 3 hours. There is nothing more frustrating than laying down for a nap and having the baby wake up 10 minutes later, most often I would rather just not sleep.

MYTH #3: Sleeping in a family bed is wonderful.

Babies are not quiet sleepers. I would LOVE, love, love to create a family bed. My sweet girl loves to snuggle, I LOVE to snuggle, but there are problems: our bed is too soft, we have a love of lots of pillows, and we sleep like flailing dead people. AND our baby jerks about, farts, cries out, and snorts in her sleep. I might enjoy the occasional nap with our sweet girl, but sleeping together is out. At least until she is old enough to hold her own with us in our death-trap of a bed.

MYTH #4: Sleep deprivation makes you cranky

Sure there are plenty of times when I feel annoyed and tired, but most of those are when my baby is sleeping and I am not (like now). Really, I love waking up with her. I love how happy she is to see me, regardless of the hour of day or night. I love that I can comfort her so easily. I love that we stare at each other lovingly until she falls back to sleep. I love to wake up dying to nurse her and then crawl back into bed later, relieved, knowing she is full and ready for a few more hours of Zzz.

I know from watching my other friends and family that sleep is a top issue in the first few years. I am prepared for this to be a long roller coaster. But in the meantime, I will try to enjoy the warm cuddles, the soft breathing, and the limp release of my sweet, sleeping girl.

Baby Fat

2010-07-06T04:35:00.007-04:00

A funny thing happened - my girl got big!

She started out a nice, normal, 8 pound baby - but she lost over 10% of her birthweight and had everyone (me) a little panicked when she slid to 7 pounds. But that was then, this is now:

At her two month appointment, she jumped from being 50 percentile for both height and weight to 75 percentile for height and 95 percentile for weight.

Oops.

Now, I do not think we are overfeeding her - we have not actually changed the amount that we feed her since she was 5 weeks old, and she'll be 3 months next week. I just think that she, like me, can appreciate a nice roll or two of chub on a baby.

She actually has always looked very round, even when the whole of pediatric medicine was up in arms at her weight slide when she came home from the hospital. Exhibit A:

Now one might gaze lovingly on that sweet round baby and think "Cute!" "Chubby!" but then look at her compared to my aunt's hand, that was no fat baby... just elegantly round in all ways.

Now, what started first was the cheeks. Oh how they grew...

(This is my sweet thing just over 1 month old)

But then this happened:

Chubby legs sprouted where long, lean ones had lived before. I became obsessed with the cuteness of the little rolls during bathtime and have a whole collection of sweet photos that are not safe for the internet. I may blow them up to life-size and line the hallway with them.

And this week, her cousin who is six weeks older came for a visit.

That's right, they are the same size! So my girl will for sure outpace her cousin in weight and height this coming month. Hand-me-downs are now going to flow in the opposite direction!

But as I begin my new "get back to normal" fitness routine, I will relish in my sweet baby's face and rolls. The pediatrician says that there is no such thing as an overweight baby at this age. So let us all remember a time when one could have multiple chins and rolls around every corner and not worry about it! Ah, to be a baby again...

And while there may be some side effects, like having to google "my baby smells like cheese," I wouldn't want her to be any different than she is right now, smiling, laughing, cuddly, and sooo cute. I love you, baby!

How to scare a new mom to death...

2010-07-04T21:17:00.003-04:00

So Charles was sick while we were in Chicago. I was sick when we got back. I had hoped that our sweet baby would escape it all due to the miracle of antibodies in breast milk.

Not so much.

Monday I put her to bed as usual, but around 11:30 she woke up crying in a strange way. She was hot and limp. I tried to nurse her while she was still swaddled and the milk just ran out of her mouth.

Panic set in.

I unswaddled her and realized that she was REALLY hot and extremely lethargic, with a dazed look on her face. I got her to the changing table, took her temperature:

102.3

The rest is a bit of a blur - I called the pediatrician who said to take her to the emergency room immediately. I called my husband at work and there was no answer. I called his best friend that works at the same site and there was no answer there either. I started driving saying "Hi Toto! How are you?" because there was no sound. And my baby hates to drive at night... she always cries. The silence was suffocating.

I got to the hospital safely, care of two cars that were in front of me the whole way - going the speed limit, driving me crazy, but keeping us both safe. Thank you God for those two cars.

I ran in and the care began... triage, tylenol, tests, and lots of crying. I cried and cried while they tried to put the IV in. I was so relieved that we were there and they were taking care of her and so scared that something terrible was wrong. She cried too... cried until she was hoarse. Poor baby. Sick and tortured.

They admitted us for observation and I nursed her all night. I just didn't want to put her down and find her like that again. In the morning she was better...smiling at us and the nurses. Oh, the nurses were so great. They could see the terror under my perma-smile and they nursed me through it. They were so kind.

Nothing unusual came back - and they decided it was probably her first viral thing. And she has been coughing and sneezing with a low-grade fever the rest of this week - poor baby.

This was my introduction to the fact that I cannot keep her safe. Not in the way I want to. I have to let her be sick. I have to let her cry. I have to let her live. But the temptation is to keep her here, wrapped up in my arms forever, my baby. I will try to protect you my dear. I will try harder to protect you - all the while knowing this was just the first time. There will be more for both of us. But I will pray that God keeps you safe. I will pray that you continue to grow and flourish. And I will pray that I can protect you as much as possible.

Oh, my poor baby.

Chicago

2010-06-25T22:02:00.002-04:00

Ah, Chicago, the Windy City... how I love you so. Funny thing about spending my adolescence in the Mid-West, everyone within 12 hours of Chicago considers it their town because it's the closest big city, and yet no one in Chicago could give a hoot about any of those places in the vast wasteland of Middle America. (I mean wasteland in the nicest way, it's not all car-racing and trailer parks as some Chicago-dwellers might think.)

So as I mentioned, we headed there this past weekend for my cousin's wedding. I was really nervous about the trip and I handled these nerves by over-preparing. I had ziplock baggies of just about everything a person could need while traveling. Most of it went unused, but I felt very secure the whole trip with my nice, neat ziplocks to go to in times of need.

I know, you want the good stuff, the juicy details. Well here was the baby on the flight out:

No, we did not drug her, apparently she likes white noise and there is ALOT of white noise on planes. She made some funny faces in her sleep every now and again, I think when her ears were pressurizing, but we would shove various things to suck in her mouth and she was fine - never even woke up. (Look at those chubby arms, a whole separate post on that coming your way soon!)

Funny thing though, I had dressed her up in a very ruffly dress and we kept getting oohs and ahhs, but if she got even a little fussy, people changed and ran away quickly. I wish I could make her cry on command, that might come in handy when I get cornered by crazy people.

Speaking of crazy people, our hotel room was not exactly baby-friendly. The room was not actually big enough for the crib they brought, so we had to choose whether to have her directly in front of the air conditioner, blocking the armoire, or blocking the door to the bathroom and sharing a wall with the elevator. We chose the bathroom option and she did fine.

The day after we arrived, after her 4 to 5am feeding was over, I decided I was hungry and that I should go find us something to munch on. I stopped at the desk and asked if I saw correctly and that there was a Dunkin' Donuts on the corner, and proceeded out the door. What the desk agent neglected to warn me about, is that the street we were on was still in after-party mode at 5:30am. So my baby and I walked past a lover's tiff, a more serious fight, a small pool of blood on the sidewalk and made our way up to the corner.

As I made my way inside, a very large truck with some very loud rap music pulled into the spot near where I was walking, and a man hopped out and kind of ran inside in front of me. By the time I got inside, the man from the truck was being solicited by two transvestite prostitutes while two other men looked on. The rap music man started to joke with them and things started to get very animated. At the same time, he whispered "Go ahead, Ma'am" to me. I realized he was taking the heat from the ladies to spare me... thanks kind Sir!! Good thing too, because later after he left and I was waiting inconspicuously at the other end of the store, I heard them saying how high they were and talking about whether they wanted to get higher or sober up. All in all a little scary.

But I made my way back to the hotel, napped a little, got up and showered, and had a lovely second breakfast with one of my three lovely aunts that we spent time with this trip. Later, Charles and I walked to Wrigley Field and took some snapshots. We watched a World Cup match. Got dressed in fancy clothes, went downstairs and met some fellow wedding party folks who were going to walk to the restaurant, wished them well and went to hail a taxi.

No taxis.

Finally a few blocks down, we found one!

We got in and told him where we were going, but he turned right on Belmont instead of left. Charles and I grumbled back and forth a bit and reminded him of the address we were going to. He assured us that he was just trying to avoid traffic. "Okay" I said, "But this is a wedding, please don't make us miss it." Next thing we know we are on Lake Shore Drive headed downtown. He gets off at Roosevelt and starts mumbling that he cannot find the street number we gave him.

"But we are on Roosevelt, we told you Roscoe!"

So long story short, we took a very tense taxi ride instead of watching my cousin get married. Luckily, I had long enough in the taxi to go through the full range of my emotions: shock, sadness, anger, and acceptance. I realized that we would be walking into a party full of people that had just witnessed a wonderful declaration of love, and that I needed to be happy! I may not have been totally successful, I think I told the story too much, but at least I tried to just be in the moment and leave the taxi behind.

Besides, my sweet aunt met us at the door, took my sweet baby from the carseat and started to introduce her like she was a celebrity:

Yes, that's me in the foreground and YES, I did match my shirt to my baby! She's my very best accessory.

We had a great time, despite the difficulties and despite the challenge of being out of our little nest. Look at our sweet darling in the airport on the way home.

She did look around when we got home and smiled like crazy, despite being overtired from the late arrival back home. She seems to have popped back into her routine fairly easily as well.

However, I asked my husband what we could have done differently to make it easier. "Wait until she's older" was his response.

One minute please...

2010-06-23T16:20:00.002-04:00

"One minute please..." I say that phrase over and over in a single day. Living with a 10 week old demands immediacy, quickness, and sometimes I just need a minute. It's amazing that sometimes that one minute seems like an eternity for both of us.

In this case, I need a minute to get myself together after our trip to Chicago. Fun was had. Adult conversation abounded. The wee-one was amazing.

But, I now have a cold. I have at least temporarily lost the camera cord. And Charles is back to work with his usual gusto.

That reminds me of a question that I have... how does one find a babysitter?

I must say that Oprah has not done me any favors in trusting just any old babysitter. I LOVE her. I want to write her a letter and thank her for keeping me sane in the long afternoons of my teenage years, the emotionally tumultuous 20s, and now in my marathon day-into-nights of maternity leave. I love you Oprah.

BUT, she had a show on a couple of weeks ago about sexual abuse. The statistics are alarming - not just that one in four women will be sexually abused, but that over 90% of those people are abused by people they know - not strangers. How do I live with a beautiful child AND that statistic in my head? I may need some therapy - because that is just unbelievable and it makes keeping her safe from harm seem like an even more daunting task.

I am a helicopter-parent in training.

Alright, well I am off to nap while my angel naps. I promise to find the camera cord as soon as I can swallow without pain...

The Mythical Happy Baby.

2010-06-18T03:48:00.003-04:00

In Yoga, there is a wonderful pose called "Happy Baby Pose" in which the person lies on their back, bends their knees up and out and grabs their feet to roll back and forth. It feels great on the lower back.

But much like the misleading expression "I slept like a baby last night" I have come to realize that before people have children they have this incorrect perception of how babies are. We see them everywhere in commercials, in movies and television programs, and we may even catch glimpses of them out and about - these mythical happy babies.

The reality, I have learned, is that babies move rapidly from one state to another. A happy baby, especially in the first few months, is one that is rested, full, at the perfect temperature, and fully-engaged in an enjoyable activity. The problem is, that it is nearly impossible to keep those four elements balanced in the rapidly changing landscape of a small baby.

Oh, I know all will change over the next few months, and it will become infinitely easier to keep my child happy and giggling for hours. But in the meantime, it sometimes feels like I emerge from our nest with a ticking timebomb. We can get to Starbucks, order a drink, coo at the other patrons, and then dissolve into screaming on the way home. We can get 3/4 of the way to a friends house with squeals and fascination, and then it can all turn south and end with red-faces and tears streaming down cheeks (and if it's a really bad day, it could end that way for both of us!)

But we keep trying and we are learning. I have successfully taken walks with the stroller a half-dozen times, but tonight we set out like usual and ended up 6 blocks away, with me sitting on the steps of the municipal building nursing her while my husband came to rescue us.

A few days ago, I had an interesting trip to Trader Joes. An old woman came up to me to see the baby, and asked how old she was. "Two months!" she said, "That is TOO young to be out!" "I don't really have a choice." I said, "I have to buy groceries!" In the next aisle over there was a woman with an absolutely angelic sleeping baby about the same age - amazinglg to me - in a carseat. We stopped to talk for a minute and she complimented my baby carrier - I thanked her and told her that my sweet girl would not tolerate a carseat for long while shopping so the wrap is the best option for keeping her quiet for as long as possible. "Oh, me too, he fell asleep in the car and will be very unhappy when he wakes up, I'm just hoping that he doesn't start to scream before we get back out to the car."

Ah, sometimes all is not what it appears to be!

Because the truth of the matter is, they ARE too young to be out. Certainly too young to be out with the expectation of consistency. Their timelines are not your timelines. They don't understand why they are alone in the carseat and why they cannot be held or nursed when the mood strikes them. And they only have one way to communicate a variety of negative emotions - crying. I know all of this, and yet I want to try. I want to be able to do things now.

So I get out into the world and I pray... I pray that she will be okay. That I've fed her enough, that she's rested enough, and that we can get through whatever the task is at hand before she melts down and needs the comfort of home and mommy.

We are going to Chicago for my cousin's wedding this weekend. A potentially ill-advised experiment of three days and two nights away from home at a time when I could not successfully walk six blocks. At least since we are flying, I will be able to nurse her on the plane and in the airport when she has trouble, but I also plan to bring earplugs. Not for me, but for my fellow passengers! Let's pray it does not get ugly.

No, seriously, pray for us.

Worry Wart.

2010-06-17T04:53:00.003-04:00

I have always been a worrier. I worry about what people think and feel. I worry that I do and say the wrong things sometimes. I worry about safety. I worry about germs.

I always needed to soothe myself away from those worries. As a baby (and throughout my childhood) I sucked my thumb and had a security blanket. As a teen, I depended on my mom to help me talk through and reason out my worries.

Even with all that practice worrying, I was unprepared for how much I would worry about this little girl. She is great - healthy and happy - and still I worry.

Today's worry is about going back to work.

I had a wonderful day at a friend's house. She and I walked our sleeping kids around the neighborhood, played on the floor, chatted and chatted and chatted, and then had a nice dinner with her husband before I headed home. They are doing everything right, and they have a darling boy to show for it.

She asked me if I was going to put my sweet girl in daycare when I go back to work, and ever since all I can think about is going back to work.

I don't want to do it.

Let me rephrase, part of me doesn't want to do it. I have helped women reenter the workforce after being stay at home moms for the last 5 years, and that is a TOUGH transition. The world just does not have any respect for mothers in the workplace. Even the most progressive place wants to see that you have done something during that time. I've seen it countless times in people that I counsel.

And yet, this little girl counts on me. She looks to me for everything, and I am having a hard time imagining pulling myself away from that. I need to practice. I have resolved to give her up a little more, let visitors hold her and not rush to take her back at the first pout. And I probably need a babysitter. How does one find someone that they can trust?

Ah Trust... the elusive element for a worry-wart. Nearly as elusive as it's friend Faith.

I still have a few weeks to figure this out and another month of working from home after that, but I know I need to prepare myself. She will be fine.

But I worry.

Sometimes.

2010-06-14T22:45:00.005-04:00

I'm a "sometimes" mom.

Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I do a good job. Sometimes I get overwhelmed. Sometimes I'm happier than I could ever have imagined.

But the thing you learn is that being a mom is "always". It is always you, you are always needed. I spent my entire twenties wanting to be needed, I had no idea how needed I would be.

I have been surprised that one can put off even normal human behavior in order to care for your child. Are you so thirsty that you could drink an entire gallon of water in one sitting? Sure. But if it involves waking the child that you just got to sleep after an hour of crying, then you will sit there and wait. Wait until it's your turn and then take care of what you can in the time you have.

Before my sweet girl, I have to admit I spent alot of time wasting time. I took long walks with no destination. I spent all day thinking about what I would do for dinner. I talked to friends for hours and hours. I feel silly saying this, but I really did not realize that all of that would disappear instantly. I am now on call. Forever.

But I also have to admit that I am shocked by small things that I enjoy. If my sweet girl wakes up at 4am smiling, then I smile back and kiss her chubby cheeks. I thought I would grumble. I thought I would hate it. I can get exhausted, but I am shocked at how much I enjoy the small girl and the person she is becoming.

She was two months old yesterday. I celebrated by loving her, kissing her,reading to her, comforting her, rocking her, playing with her, singing to her, and watching her sleep. I know I have months to go before this all feels like a normal part of my life, but I am so glad I have this opportunity.

Because in this case motherhood is really an always that is ever-changing, life-altering, and so incredibly welcome and wonderful, (despite what I may say sometimes).

Our Crazy Neighbor

2010-06-05T21:30:00.002-04:00

The stories of how crazy our neighbor is started long before I moved in. At some point during our dating life, Charles told me about how he came home one day and she opened her door wearing very little clothing. At the time, I was jealous. Now I know better - I had NOTHING to worry about - Charles doesn't like crazy (and she is crazy with every cell in her body.)

Now she is nice enough most of the time. She seems somewhat gentle, has some kind of facial paralysis, maybe due to some past drug use or something? She also dresses like a homeless person, but has a very nice family that comes to visit her on the holidays and always speaks nicely to us when we see them coming and going.

But my introduction to her craziness started with a Saturday afternoon when I heard a crashing in the hallway. Well, not really a crashing, more like thunderous booms. I had two friends sitting on my sofa that were petrified. I looked out the peep hole to see her trying to kick her own door in.

Some minutes later she knocked on our door. I looked at my friends and said "You have my back, right?" They both looked back like "You have got to be kidding me, don't you dare answer that door!" But answer it I did. She asked me to call the police and have them come let her into her apartment. I lent her the phone and she did it herself. Two days later she left a dollar with my brother in law to pay for the phone call.

She calls the police several times a week. She also has her locks changed at least once a month. She sometimes puts notes on the door that say "Don't come near this door."

But all of that was eclipsed a couple of nights ago when my sister in law and niece were over to visit the baby and the police knocked on the door. Now I immediately thought "Oh no, my niece pressed the 911 button again?" Because she has done that twice before.

No, no that was not it. The police asked "Do you have an emergency maintenance number because the lady across the hall put her hand through the glass window downstairs and there is blood all over the hallway."

First of all - Do I what? She did what?

Second of all - Do you mind not mentioning phrases like "blood all over the hallway in front of my niece and baby?

Third of all - You are the police, aren't you supposed to keep these numbers around? Don't you know everything? And even if you don't, aren't you NOT supposed to knock on a random door across the hall and ask them? (I know, that's a double negative, but forgive me, I've got issues here)

I know what you are thinking - yes, we are going to move. But not with a 7 week old baby. We will not renew the lease again, but we just did since we were not in the position to move with a brand new baby and the Obama tax credit mini-bubble frenzy was too much for us to handle.

In the meantime, I talked to the owner's son and he said to call them the next time she does something crazy. Oh, I forgot to mention that she's been knocking on our door at crazy times - like 6am and 12:30am. I no longer answer.

But man, I feel uneasy about this. Very uneasy.

O What a Night...

2010-06-05T03:50:00.004-04:00

I have a very good baby.

She no longer hates baths or diaper changes, she loves them. She also loves any game that involves hand movements: like patty-cake and the itsy-bitsy spider. She sleeps from 9 or 10pm to 3am every night. And she is getting very, very chubby.

Are you sensing a BUT?

Well, there are nights like this one has been, where she starts getting fussy at 7pm, cries like she's being tortured from 7:45 to 8:45, finally falling asleep and letting me put her down at 9:30pm.

Fine, that's not that unusual, but it's cramping my social life. Knowing that any guests need to be out of here by 7pm is tough- because if we don't start our routine: a walk, some reading, then serious sensory deprivation by 7pm, the screaming and flailing starts. Oh, my friends and that is not pretty.

But by 3am, all is forgotten. By then, I am so engorged, I want her to wake up and give me some relief. She wakes up happy and hungry and usually goes right back down to sleep for at least another hour or two.

Except on nights like tonight.

When I got up to get her, I did my usual: change her diaper. "Weird", I thought, "it's dry".

Well then when I was feeding her, she pooped. Okay, time for another diaper.

Then she did what I lovingly call, the Urine Puddle. That's when a little girl sneakily starts to urinate while you have pulled away the soiled diaper and are still preparing the new diaper. My sweet girl like to splash her feet around in the puddle too, a friend recently bought her some rainboots, perhaps I should start using them for diaper changes?

So then it's time for a new changing pad, a new onesie, and some more nursing. Then I have to pretend that her feet aren't vaguely sticky, because a bath at 3am would wake us both up in a way that is irreparable and inappropriate.

But soon enough, the girl is back to sleep. Now, it's time for the checklist of how to tell she is REALLY asleep:
1) Can you pull her away from her meal without any whimpering or protest?
2) Are her feet and hands still kneading, or have they relaxed into death-like limpness?
3) Is her breathing still a full-body experience, or has it settled into a little bird-like puff that barely moves her ribcage?

Speaking of birds, after the Urine Puddle, I put on a new onesie - one that has a cute silkscreened bird on it. Apparently it is made of sandpaper, as it was nearly impossible to get on and felt scratchy even to me as I nursed her. Now putting your baby back to sleep at 3am in a onesie made of sandpaper is ill-advised for sure, but so is taking said onesie back off to put another one on, I mean, I do want to get back to sleep eventually tonight.

But after nights like tonight, I am left a little wound up. The evening crying alone is so tough. I just hate to see her so upset, it's so ... well tough.

It's now 4:07am, and my time to sleep is ticking down, so off I go. Remind me to tell you the tale of my crazy neighbor. It's a doosy.

Ah, now I understand!

2010-06-01T09:40:00.003-04:00

I started babysitting at 9 years old - for a sweet two year old boy from my church. I was way too young and I made lots of mistakes, but he and I both survived. That was the beginning of a very lucrative career of childcare that continued well into college. I also taught Sunday school and worked in the church nurseries of two different churches.

None of that has prepared me for the last seven weeks.

John Wilmot has an oft used quote: Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. That exactly describes the predicament in which I find myself: the perennial know-it-all about childcare now knows nothing and trusts nothing.

So, I have apologized to my sister and my best friend for not fully understanding the struggles that they had in making decisions with their children - especially amidst the early motherhood 'fog' that I now know so well. And I have pledged to a public apology here to anyone else that I might have judged, either vocally or secretly. You parents out there are awesome, and I had no idea how hard you had to work to make your beautiful children the wonderful people they are today! Great job.

May I be half as successful.

Now, an update.

Here is my sweet Emmah on the way to her baptism last weekend. We didn't end up using my christening gown, because it made her look like an old porcelain doll that had been holed up in some crazy lady's attic for too many years. At the last minute we got this outfit. My dad said the bonnet was overkill. He was wrong. (well, judge for yourself...)

We are very excited to be going to my cousin's wedding in a few weeks. We plan on matching our baby to our luggage- I think it will make the baggage carousel infinitely easier and more fun:

Our little tiny daughter seems to have doubled in size... she easily fits into 3 month clothing at 7 weeks old. I am no longer worried that the 3 to 6 month summer clothing will not get used, instead I am concerned that she will outgrow all the clothes we have for her in the next few weeks, and will start stealing my favorite t-shirt to wear to the mall.

(P.S. Thanks Auntie Laura for my new favorite summer rompers... here's a sneak peak)

Wow, that was fun... typing with both hands, finishing a whole blog post. Now, I sincerely hope the time that it took me does not mean I will not get a shower and breakfast before the girl wakes up... that's the way life is these days: it's all about choices with the 20 minutes of time that a nap allows.

Important Update:

2010-05-11T09:31:00.002-04:00

Here is exhibit A:

A photo of my husband and I on his birthday last year, the day we found out I was pregnant.

Here is exhibit B:

A photo from last night, our first trip with friends to a restaurant with the baby.

So after 40 weeks of gestation and almost a month of recovery, I think my normal nose is back!!! Down with swelling! Up with normalcy!

Now, if I could just get my wedding rings back on and my normal pants to zip, then we're really in business... but let's not rush things.

Ode to a Father on Mother's Day...

2010-05-09T00:55:00.003-04:00

Patience is a virtue, or so they say... and I am inclined to believe them. After all, I waited 33 years before I met this man who is now my husband and the father of my new sweet daughter. I knew he was special from the very beginning, but there was no way to know how very special he is.

One of the most surprising aspects of new parenthood has been the joy and admiration that I have in watching my husband become a father. From the first day - that day when I was nearly paralyzed with fear about the c-section, he countered that mood with unbridled excitement and enthusiasm. He suited up, took his seat beside me in the OR, and whispered our daughter's name to me (he chose it and kept the final decision from me until that moment). He joked with me, and when it came time for him to watch her emerge from my belly - he hopped up as if he was about to meet the most important person in the world - and he has treated her as such ever since.

It's not just that I love to hear him sing to her or to watch them sleep together - all of that is precious - but I am in awe that he has poured himself into helping us both so completely. He does EVERYTHING.

He is my everything.

So on this day when the attention will be on me, I want to take a moment and tell the world that I would not, could not do this without him. And I mean HIM. He has a way with me - he can disarm me with a glance. He can relax me with a small phrase or sometimes even a gesture. Good skills to have as a husband, but they have felt like lifelines to me in the last month.

I wonder sometimes if he will ever see me the same again - as the woman I was before the huge incision, the hemorrhoids and the leaking breasts - before I became a fiercely protective mama-bear. But then I remember that if he has enjoyed watching me become the mother that I am even a fraction as much as I have enjoyed watching him become the father that he is - it won't matter if I am ever that person again - because in just one month, I have become so much more.

So my dear husband, I have a month or so before the time comes to shower you with presents and attention on your special day, but in the meantime you must know how much I appreciate you.

Wait. Words are failing me here. I want to say how much I appreciate you, how much I love you, and how much I admire you, but the words do not carry the proper weight. They are overused. Trite. But I am limited to this language, so instead please know that the emotion behind these words are stronger than you can even imagine.

Week 3: Gas, Acne and Hemorrhoids

2010-05-05T02:00:00.005-04:00

I have a 3 week old baby- it hardly seems real, even with the fact that she is currently sleeping on my chest while I type this.

She's growing and changing every day. And she is SO cute. She has these piercing eyes that are almost black and can make you melt when she's happy and make you feel like you might die of shame when she is upset. And there are so many versions of upset: the slight pout and the whimpers to the full-on, red-faced, full-body, rhythmic crying that wounds your very soul.

She is inches away from smiling. It's percolating just under the surface. She turns the corners of her mouth up when she's sleeping, and if you tickle her cheek while she's eating. And when she's calm and alert and you are talking to her, she looks at you like she's taking notes. And so we try to think about what we want to teach her... so I sing the alphabet song and her father sings his favorite Swahili hymns. And we both tell her stories and make jokes - both at her expense and at our own.

She is finally over her birth weight! So even though we have had to supplement her, I feel like we're finally getting the hang of breastfeeding. Sheesh! It's been so tense - latching issues, low milk supply, leaking, pumping issues. But I am staying positive and focusing on our successes - we are doing it... and she and I both are thriving.

Now, I didn't realize that I should have skipped one of the baby preparation classes to take a photoshop refresher course... because this girl needs a little retouching these days. Ah baby acne, why do you mar those big, sweet, edible cheeks? I've heard it will clear on it's own in the next few weeks - or months - and I am hoping beyond hopes that it will be weeks and not months. Modeling contracts await.

Now, me? I am also doing well. Walking is easier and I can go around the block easily. The three flights of stairs are almost back to feeling normal (notice I didn't say easy). But I am still struggling with doing too much, not resting enough and then having issues. I'll save you the details, but it's not fun nor easy to recover from a c-section. And there are a million things that I want to heal at a faster rate than is possible. I am quite pleased with the progress, but still have a long way to go. And while I am prepared to need spanx for some time, I hope that the donut pillow will not be necessary for much longer.

But let's keep our eyes on the prize:

That which we covet...

2010-04-24T21:57:00.002-04:00

Any new parent knows that sleep is something you crave, something you try to steal, something you wish for and daydream about...

So it's no wonder that when we see our other fellow family members enjoying some sleep, we covet it, admire it, and want to document it:

Things I love about my daughter...

2010-04-20T01:21:00.003-04:00

There is plenty that is hard... days and days of a few hours sleep, teaching your baby and your body to connect, not worrying yourself to death about every little thing, but then again...
She has this sweet face and these big eyes. She squeaks in her sleep while she tries to wrestle loose from her swaddling. She is extraordinarily alert and happy after she poops. She loves to sleep on her daddy's chest. While sleeping on you, she reaches out to lay a hand on your face.

But the unexpected thing is that she knows me. She knows my voice and follows it with her head as I talk to her across the room. I can comfort her with a simple coo. (Not always, of course.)

Other things I love:
- the way her hair swirls in black curls around the back of her head - her dad jokes we have to comb it in a perfect spiral.
- the way her face expresses pure emotion - rapidly changing as thing erupt and then resolve in quick succession.
- the softness of her skin, like velvet.
- the sweet smell of her.
- the odd combination of a long and lean physique that is contradicted by the sheer doubleness of her chin.

She is one week old today. I want to remember her - not just the struggles, the worry and the pain, but the joy, the love, and the excitement of my sweet, sweet baby.

Conversation in CVS:

2010-04-12T21:38:00.002-04:00

Lady in CVS: When are you due?

Me: Tomorrow.

Lady in CVS: ... (shocked look on face)

Lady in CVS: Is it scheduled?

Me: Yes, for 9:30am.

Cashier: I was not expecting that response!

Lady in CVS to Cashier: Right? I know!

Lady in CVS: Well, good luck!

Me: Thanks so much.

And scene.

C-section, turtle style

2010-04-11T22:43:00.002-04:00

Coming soon to an operating room near you...

Early to the Party.

2010-04-11T10:59:00.002-04:00

So I have a guilty pleasure... it's called People Magazine.

During this pregnancy I have been particularly enthralled with watching pregnant celebrities. Except, seems like nearly all of the women who were due around the time as me have delivered early!

It all started with Padma Lakshimi - Top Chef host, former wife of Salman Rushdie, and all around beautiful lady.

Actually, that's not true... the first "celebrity-type" was that Duggar woman. I don't watch the show, but her bout with pre-enclempsia and early delivery had me quaking in my boots! That little micro-premie is four months old and still only like four pounds.

But then there have been all these other ladies delivering early: Paula Patton, Leslia Leslie.

Well, I'm grateful to my little one for hanging in there. Two days to go.

The New Pool.

2010-04-10T01:22:00.002-04:00

March Madness is over and I am victorious. I picked Duke to go all the way, and they did! And I collected on my bet, eating a glorious dinner with my husband.

We sat in a fancy restaurant, ate delicious food that he might have been reticent to try - had it not been "my" day. And we talked about our thoughts, our hopes and our fears for the next stage of our lives. It's funny that you can be constantly reminded that you are pregnant: by others, by your appearance, and by the still active girl doing her yoga moves in utero and STILL feel like it's not real.

I can see now the reasons why this will be tough - because even today, just 4 days until I give birth, I can ignore or deny this is actually happening - at least some of the time. But that dinner made it better. Just by talking about things, it felt real and good. And I felt so connected to that sweet man across the table from me - and comforted that we are truly sharing this.

Now we have a new pool... a "how big will the baby be" pool. And I am so excited to see if either of us is right.

O Happy DAY!

2010-04-07T11:16:00.002-04:00

Birds are chirping. The sun is shining. It is unseasonably warm...

And it's my last day of work! Hooray!

The outpouring of support I received in email form after yesterday's post was staggering. Thank you all for your kind words and your presence in my life! I thought I would write a post with a different tone today - a foil if you will - for yesterday's list.

Things I will miss about work:

First, for the last few months, we have had a really wonderful, young alum working in our office. I've been training her, and perhaps occasionally overwhelming her with information, but she has been fantastic, encouraging and supportive of me. She tells me I look nice, she marvels at the miracle of life taking shape in my body, and she sneaks in to dish on the conflict and strangeness that often enters our lives in this office. I'll miss her and will be wishing her well!

Second, my lunch bunch. I have three of the most fantastic coworkers... whom I affectionately refer to as "the Philly girls" - Every day we eat together. I have learned more about Pop culture from them than from anyone else in my whole life. Anything I know about the Phillies is because of them, and they provide a wonderful break from work every day at 12:30. I may set the baby up in her bouncy seat at 12:30 and say "so, baby, what did you think of the Biggest Loser last night?" But I'm guessing that might not be quite as satisfying as the laugh-fests that we have. They are the kind of group that will listen to your problems, give good advice, and then find a way to poke some holes in things and get you laughing. I hope they visit, because I'm gonna need that!

Third, there are wonderful people here. I have focused largely on the naysayers and n'er-do-well types that haunt these hallways, but there are also students that bring me flowers, faculty that check in to see how I am doing, and other staff that lend their kind words and support. One faculty came in yesterday, told me how great I looked and then offered some words of advice: "Be sure you take time to look at your baby... they change so fast, seemingly day-to-day, try to memorize her sweet face before it changes." She totally had me in tears with the sweetness of her love for her own children and her happiness that I am about to embark on a similar voyage.

So my dear colleagues, I'll see you July-ish! And for my dear friends and family, thank you for helping me to see the silver lining and allowing me to use this blog as the receptacle for all kinds of emotions - good, bad, honest, and ugly.

Reasons not to get pregnant:

2010-04-06T09:15:00.002-04:00

(feel free to print this out and leave it for your teenage daughter before she goes on dates or maybe to the prom...)

1) Your life is no longer your own.
Sure, there are plenty of lovely things that happen: the anticipation, the bonding between you and your mate - and between you and other mothers, but you will lose the opportunity to push through hunger and fatigue - you become at the mercy of your biological needs. And if you are someone that cannot abide by that, then do not get pregnant.

2) Your body will change in weird ways.
Some highlights of how my body has changed... some of which you have heard already: my nose has gotten broader, by eyes have gotten dryer, my carpal tunnel is so bad I haven't felt three fingers on my right hand for nearly two full months. You will get veiny. I'm lucky, no varicose veins, but you can see nearly my entire circulatory system, if you were to have the misfortune of seeing me naked right now.

3) Your second trimester will lull you into a false sense of security.
At six months pregnant you still look cute. You have a bump, people are supportive. You start planning. You don't feel sick anymore. And if you are like me, you have this glorious, smooth belly. Then, one day in your eighth month, there is one stretch mark. You cringe a little and swallow hard. By the end of the next month, you beautiful belly is gone, looking instead like a scratching post for a tyrannical feline. You tear up when you accidentally open the drawer to your bikinis, wondering if you will every wear those beautiful, tiny creations. You laugh at yourself for worrying about a little cellulite for the last decade. Now you have real worries.

4) You may eat weird things.
It all started with Popsicles and salad. Now it's avocados and rice cakes. It could be worse, but it's weird. I look forward to eating alone, so I can embrace the weirdness of my food choices in peace.

5) You will come to hate people.
Some people will be nice. Some people will be mean, but they will ALL have something to say about how you are doing or looking. By the end, you will just want them to freaking shut their pie-holes. Compliments exist - use them people. Most of these people are well-intentioned, but after nearly a year of hearing their opinions, you will not have patience for them. God forbid you don't have an awesome OB that keeps their comments in check - or if you don't do your research about what is normal, because then you will truly be at the mercy of these comments and then, well... god save you.

6) You will get scared.
People will tell you they loved being pregnant. These are people with no imagination. This is scary stuff. From the moment of conception, there are a million things that can kill your unborn child. Every book you read will go into great detail about what these things are and what might help avoid them. You will do some of those things and worry the rest of the time about the possibility of being the worst mom of all-time, killing your child with tuna sandwiches and blue cheese dressing. Then at the end, the stories of how hard it is to be sleep deprived and breast-feeding - you will create images in your head of you morphing into some kind of psychotic zombie - who at any moment could eat her newborn child out of pure frustration. Don't worry, the books say that's normal.

7) Nothing will ever be good enough.
Even if you continue to work up until the very last minute - with your water breaking on the copier-room floor, your colleagues will still try to get you to do "one last thing" before you leave. Not everyone, but enough that you will feel guilty and perhaps like a bad employee. Even if the very same people have been encouraging you to have kids for years.

8) Clothing will betray you.
You will be able to wear alot of non-maternity clothing for a VERY long time. Some things even longer than your maternity clothes. That is because maternity clothing is cheap and ugly - unless you are a millionaire. Also nursing bras are weird. And you will shop for things like bands to wear on your wrists to ease morning sickness, bands to keep your belly from showing when your shirts start to shrink up, and bands to compress your stomach after the blessed event. There are alot of mildly embarrassing bands in your life, and yet you will not be embarrassed by them, they will feel like life preservers.

9) Your skin will do crazy things.
Maybe you'll have acne. Maybe you'll have an itchy rash. Maybe you'll darken in weird places. Maybe you'll develop "skin tags" in places where no one but you will ever see. Or just maybe, you'll develop pregnancy leprosy, but don't worry, the books will tell you that is perfectly normal.

10) Your breasts will revolt.
Whatever you used to like about your breasts will change. They will start to do the opposite. Your nipples will look like dartboards. If you thought they were too big to start with, they will get bigger. If you want them to get bigger, they will not. If you even think for a second that they are looking good, they will start to do something different with the very next breath. Breasts are not to be trusted.

11) And finally, the worst comments - the pure evil ones will come your way.
Things like "sleep now, it will only get worse!" and "enjoy this time, because before you know it they become teenagers!" and "oh, you are in for one hell of a ride!" These comments, much like this list I have just created, are born out of frustration and meanness. Ignore them and do what you want. Everything will be okay and you will be able to live a mostly positive existence - if you want to - if you work at it - even despite the challenges.

One week from today, I will have a baby.

Enough.

2010-04-02T20:58:00.002-04:00

I'm done. I've had enough.

I want people to stop staring. I want strangers to stop saying things as I walk by. I want coworkers and students to stop saying how big I am and how surprised they are to still see me at work.

I only have 3 days of work left. I'm thinking about driving to work those days, just so I don't have to see as many people. How sad is that? I just want to hide from the world. So they will stop talking.

I can tell you that from now on, I will tell pregnant women "hey, I like your new haircut!" and NOT "OMG, you are bigger than your desk."

By the way, I got about 4 inches of hair cut off. Did anyone notice today? Yes, two people. TWO people. But how many people talked about how big I looked - two DOZEN.

I'm about ready to tell them where to go. It's really beginning to make me angry. It makes me not want to share this amazing experience with anyone. It makes me want to avoid the world until I am back to my normal size and shape - quite honestly, it's too much. And I feel trapped by it.

I just need to get through the next three days of work. THREE days. That's it. And yet, I am dreading them. DREADING them.

I wish I could go into this great transition feeling more confident. I am really disappointed that people are so insensitive that they can't see how much I HATE what they say to me. That they cannot just be happy for me and focus on something, anything besides what my body looks like.

So F*** you people. And your comments. I'm gonna make it through these next few days in spite of you... or maybe even TO spite you. And then I'm going to be nice to pregnant ladies for all of time... and tell them how they will get through this... how beautiful they are... and how much they are going to love their new life.

My Little Lovelies

2010-03-29T09:44:00.003-04:00

I am a lover of words. I love to hear them, read them, write them, and study them. I like them when they are all crammed together on page after page, or when they stand alone all on their own.

I cannot stop buying books. I cannot stop reading everything. And I gravitate towards people who also love them, especially if they can twist them and turn them to make me laugh.

I read books about loving books. I watch movies about crossword competitions. And last night I even watched Akellah and the Bee. What a sweet movie. I LOVED it. I loved watching a young woman who loves words and who has found something she is good at and is not afraid to embrace it, hone it, and use it.

If you have a 7 year old girl, or need the 7 year old girl inside you to feel inspired to a little hard work, then definitely rent this movie. It's a keeper!

Here is a quote that Akellah reads in the movie:
(Quoting Marianne Williamson] Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

You Don't Say...

2010-03-23T15:13:00.002-04:00

I am feeling good. I am 37 weeks pregnant and I am actually still feeling good.

Sure, my hands are swollen, my feet are swollen, my skin breaks out in strange ways, but I can still unlock my office door (who invented glass doors with locks down near the floor), I can still hoist myself up and down the train stairs and my apartment building stairs, I can dance a little jig, and I can walk a mile, maybe two.

But the one thing that gets me down, that has me avoiding eye contact and looking for camouflage are people's comments. I have had men hit on me. Women suggest that maybe I should move the date of my c-section because I am getting so big. And countless, countless people say things like "you're ready to pop!" or "why are you still here" or "my god, are you having twins?"

Nothing deters these comments.

NOTHING.

I have tried just smiling and laughing. I have tried joking. I have tried ignoring them. I have tried rational answers based on scientific data.

People remain undeterred.

So if you see a very pregnant lady hiding in the bushes at the train station, with evil eye necklaces and crucifixes piled around her neck, it's probably me. I can be lured out of the shadows with compliments. Avoid any mention of size or glow - just go with the standards, like... "You're doing great!" or "You look nice in that scarf!" - or even just "Glad to see you're still here!"

Better yet, let's talk about the weather. Or politics. Or how YOU are doing. You can glance down and get a good look at the baby... I don't mind that, just keep the commentary above the belt. No low blows, please. I'm begging you. Just leave me be and let me live out these last few weeks with some dignity and some privacy.

Daddy's Girl.

2010-03-19T11:45:00.002-04:00

One of the cutest parts of being this pregnant is trying to assign personality traits to our little lady, even while still in-utero.

There is one thing that I feel fairly confident about... she is a daddy's girl already.

How do I know this? Well, let me tell you.

For MONTHS, whenever he is home, she starts moving more when she hears his voice. And about a month ago, we were sitting on the sofa one night and I swear she moved her whole body so she would be closer to his voice. She doesn't have room to do that now, but I bet she would if she could.

She also likes to kick him. If we are laying in bed, with my belly touching any part of him, then she likes to kick him! This past weekend they had some kind of kick-pat communication thing going on... and I was all, like "um, nice you all are having fun, but mama is trying to sleep here!"

I've always wondered what started this. He does have a great voice and a wonderful laugh. I am usually alone chilling when he comes in... so there is not a lot of distractions. But I really think that she must get some kind of endorphin rush from me when he comes home. I just love him so much, she must know. If she doesn't know now, she will soon - I cannot hide how happy I am to see him when he comes in from work, I cannot keep from following him around to hear how his day went, and I only stop if I realize there is some small thing that I can do to make his day better - like maybe a cup of tea or something. And in return, he is so sweet and kind and gentle - and recently he has developed this knack for seeming to never tire of the million things I need help with. From reaching tupperware containers to building furniture - no one should be able to muster that much enthusiasm for such mundane tasks. But let me tell you, I appreciate it more than I can say.

Third times a charm...

2010-03-15T14:59:00.003-04:00

Yesterday we went to church to find out what we needed to do to get ready to baptize our little lady after she's born. It's all fairly easy, just one class that we'll do at the end of this month.

BUT, while we are there, we found out that the church had never processed our "special dispensation" form - allowing Charles to marry me and making the marriage legitimate in the eyes of the Catholic church.

So, are we living in sin?

(this was all just an elaborate event to fool people)

Not really, we are living in bureaucracy. And so some time after the baby is born, we'll have to re-fill out the forms, submit them, and have our marriage blessed by a Catholic priest.

I find this funny, since we had two Episcopal priests marry us (Hi MoM! Hi Dad!) and a third that renewed our wedding vows about 8 months later. We went to premarital counseling and we filled out the appropriate paperwork and met twice with a different Catholic priest.

It just shows that some people don't play well with one another!

But I do like the idea of dressing up and dressing our little lady up in order to have a fresh blessing of our marriage. If Charles wants to recommit to me with all my new stretch marks and by that point the new dark circles under my eyes, then I am all for it!

In the meantime, we are marriage limbo - recognized by some but not all. And with me not wearing my wedding ring, it's getting positively scandalous around these parts!

(Maybe we just wanted to jump straight to this...?)

Thinking in phrases.

2010-03-05T11:11:00.003-05:00

A woman on the train told me this morning that I was beautiful.

Maybe you are making me more beautiful?

I spend a lot of time focusing on all the negative changes, the increase in my nasal girth and fortitude, the new stretch marks, the swelling of various parts, the numbness in my fingers. But maybe I could change this way of thinking for the next few weeks. Maybe I could begin to embrace this wide expanse of smoothness that is now my belly - and maybe I could rejoice in the movements, knowing they will begin to slow very soon? Maybe I could think about how thick my hair has gotten or how full my lips look?

Maybe that woman could see how much I love you?

I want desperately to teach this baby girl how to love everything that makes her special. Maybe I need to start with those things in me? Maybe I could be less sensitive? Maybe I could actually begin to hear people's compliments and let the other comments roll off me? Maybe if I can do it, then she will be able to as well? I want her to feel confident. I want her to feel beautiful.

Maybe she could tell how long I've waited for you to come?

I know there will be times when I get angry about the way the world is. But for now, I have nothing to complain about. Last night our waitress came over and asked when I was due. By the end of the meal she was begging us to bring the baby in after it was born. We are nice. Nice begets nice. Maybe it won't be as hard for you as I sometimes fear?

Maybe I can make the world see me as beautiful, see you as beautiful, just by seeing them as beautiful?

Anticipation.

2010-03-04T16:35:00.003-05:00

I have had moments to look forward to in my life, massive celebrations. My wedding, the weddings of others, graduations, more moves that you can count on your fingers and toes, special trips, visits, and events.

Nothing compares to anticipating your first child.

As things go on, I find myself wondering how she's doing in there (there being my uterus) - not in the fearful way of the first trimester, more like... "hey there, hiya little girl, whatcha up to?" I wonder when she seems in the process of some crazy movement if it's because she's uncomfortable, or maybe bored, or may just curious to find a different view of things.

I wonder how big she'll be, what her personality will be like, and if she'll be healthy. I think she's perfect, but will she really be? Will she like words or numbers? Will she sing or dance? Will she be quiet or outgoing?

Now that we have half our room stacked with baby clothes, I cannot wait to see her in them. I can't wait to see how her father dresses her - if he favors his own urban, casual style, or if he gravitates towards the sweet dresses and matching hats.

I can't wait to baptize her. I don't know the Catholic service well, but in the Episcopal one, you have to promise that you will strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being. I want to promise to help her do that. If we can arrange it, she'll wear my baptismal gown. A long old-fashioned one that has miniature ruffles over a foot past where any normal baby would end. It's dramatic and gorgeous. I might need to wear a hat and a suit, just to compete with the drama of it all.

Last night I had my breastfeeding class. I went into it scared and lonely and I came out excited. I talked to the lactation consultant about how to ease the process after a scheduled c-section and she showed me information about skin-to-skin contact while still in the OR. Now I cannot relax from the image in my mind of having my sweet girl on my naked chest, with her loving father there beside me... even before they finish the procedure. I hope they will agree to let me do it.

Brief aside: If you want to waste several hours, visit etsy.com and look at baby booties. Even if you don't have children or don't want them, you cannot help but melt at the cuteness. Then when you imagine that the sweet girl wearing them is your very own, it is nearly unbearable!

I won't pretend this process is fun. And I won't pretend that it's getting any easier. I considered ordering take-out from work today, even though there is a deli two blocks away - because those two blocks felt cruel and cold and long. I am the person that used to walk 2 miles each way, just to get a small snack or a specialty drink on a weekend - I called it "wandering the planet." Now, my mind wanders and my body wants to stay put. In my office, I scoot around in my desk chair so I don't have to stand up... I call it my "crab walk" - but it's crazy. And I know I look crazy, I just don't care.

I am getting used to people staring. I stay perky in mood to avoid talking to people... if you say "Oh, I'm doing great!" then people don't press. And that's what I want, keep moving people, nothing to see here.

Oh, but there is... every day my belly is a different shape. At any given moment one might be able to see it move. My clothes are stretched to their limit. There is no such thing as camouflage - there is only looking pregnant and looking VERY pregnant.

And the time is finally close. A month from Monday will be my last day in the office. And there is SO much to do between now and then. And by mid-month, if she comes, she'll still be full-term. There is still plenty to worry about, but gratitude is seeping in. Seeping in with fingers crossed and wood knocking.

Update: End of February

2010-02-25T12:28:00.002-05:00

What things have changed? Well, let's start with my nose. Let's compare, shall we?

The photo above was taken this past weekend at brunch. I am very healthy, no cold, no sinus pressure, but still, my nose is considerably larger than usual.

Let's use the following picture as comparison:

This photo was taken in July - the month that I got pregnant. Look at the cuteness. Look at that sweet baby. Now take a look at my nose, which is also quite cute and small.

Very interesting.

I could go into other changes, like the way my shirts fit or the way my pants slide down, but that would distract from this comparison. So for now, let's leave it here for everyone to contemplate.

Also, take note in the photo how similar my husband and my features are... big eyes, big cheeks with dimples - I think we have a good idea what this girl will look like!

Fire Drill

2010-02-23T21:11:00.002-05:00

I was taking my usual nap, drooling happily, when the fire alarm in the hallway started going off. Not our personal aparment smoke detector, but the big bell in the hallway that reminds one of a high school fire alarm.

So I put on my shoes, grabbed my coat, my purse, and the binder that we keep in the bedroom with all our important documents. I went and sat in the car until I saw the firemen walk up and down the stairs and then turn off the fire alarm.

Maybe it's because I've personally known two people in the last two years that have lost everything in fires, maybe it's because of the crazy neighbors we have that I would not put it past them to do things like smoke in bed or overload extension cords, whatever it is, I took this alarm seriously.

My question for you is: if you had 30 seconds to decide what to take, what would you take?

A mind of her own

2010-02-22T21:00:00.002-05:00

This little girl growing inside me has a mind of her own. Back about 2 weeks ago, I knew she was turned breech by all the kicking she was doing to my bladder, cervix and bowels. Then miraculously she turned.

Now she's back. And with her getting bigger and stronger, it feels vaguely like she could kick her foot right on out of me. I haven't ever used Ben Wa balls for Kegel exercises, but I imagine that if I were wearing them, and one went rogue and headed too far north, that it would be a similar feeling.

Too gross?

I admit that a full day of kicking down there has me sore and cranky. Add in some extra stress at work and my patience is wearing thin. Hopefully that feeling is purely emotional and not an indication of the state of my cervix.

Too gross again, right?

Okay, well I'm going to go play some music to my crotch, while lying in an inverted position and see if I can get this girl to be more like the other 97% of all fetuses. Individuality can wait until after birth, in my humble opinion.

P.S: I know that this blog has become all about my pregnancy. I predict in 6 weeks or so, it will become all about being a new mom. Certain things in life have a way of eclipsing everything else. Do I still care about current events? Sure. Do I still want to help the world's impoverished and underrepresented? Absolutely. But it's not as ... well... present as this transition going on in my body, my marriage and my life. And I just don't have the energy to make it any different.

The 13th Octopus.

2010-02-18T10:13:00.002-05:00

When I first started feeling the baby move, she was like a butterfly. A few weeks later she grew bigger and stronger, like a bird. Then the jabs started and I started to joke that my belly had turned into a human "Jiffy Pop" and I was going to give birth to a bowl of popcorn.

Now my dears, she is definitely an octopus. There are too many limbs to be just a normal baby. There is no way that she can tap me on the bladder, kick me in the ribs and poke out my belly button - simultaneously - without a few extra limbs to help her out. I'm okay with that, I will love her regardless.

Let us now turn our attention to the number 13. Considered unlucky by some, I think it's a lovely number. Let's look at the dates in my life that have happened on the 13th: February 13th is the anniversary of my parent's first date, March 13th is my sister's birthday, and April 13th is a holiday for Sikhism - and it is the date that we have now scheduled for this little girl to be born.

Viva 13!

Just 53 days away.

Snow and Ice.

2010-02-12T17:21:00.003-05:00

When I was a child, we lived in rural Michigan. We had a wonderful house built on a hill, perfect for sledding. We fwould start at the top, near the bedrooms and cruise on down past all three levels. It was a winter wonderland: sledding, ice skating on the lake behind us, jousting with icicles that grew over 10 feet long, and more snow sculptures, igloos, and other ice structures than you can imagine.

To this day, one of my favorite feelings is when you come back in from being out in the snow, and you are warm, maybe even drinking a hot beverage, but your legs still feel cold to the touch.

I did have one problem: the steps. If you took the intended pathway up to the front door, then you had to climb about 20 steps. We almost never did that, partially because it was nicer to go through the garage and walk up the two short flights of stairs inside, and partially because the first step on the long flight outside was always icy. So much so, that I had a recurring nightmare in my childhood: I bounded down the stairs, only to make contact with that icy last stair, lose my footing, and then hang suspended in mid-air - waking just before the impact of the fall.

Well, my dears... I feel like my pregnancy has turned all my interactions with this winter into that nightmare. I don't trust my footing. My center of gravity is amiss. My fear of hurting myself or the baby is great.

In short: I am afraid of all that I used to love.

I walk slowly. I don't play. I don't go out if I don't have to. Instead, I look out the window and get morose... like a kid with some kind of illness that keeps them inside. It's very sad.

I keep my spirits up by imagining my cute little girl all stuffed into a padded snowsuit, eating snow and laughing... that is, imagining next year with all of it's potential!

Maybe this weekend I can get my husband to take me to a nice park or something where I can muss some virgin snow without fear of falling down stairs or slipping on ice. I would hate to miss out on 70 inches of snow. I want to play a bit.

And come Monday, it's time for me to go back to work. To face my fears of this crazy weather and it's affect on the city sidewalks.

Maybe I'll buy some new boots with better traction, at least pretend that will make me safer. But secretly, I'm just ready for spring... as much as I never thought I would ever be the person that wished away the beauty of winter.

Things that have changed...

2010-02-04T09:49:00.002-05:00

At this point in life and in my pregnancy, there are many things that are changing - and so quickly I can barely keep up.

For example, here is a list of things that I used to love, and was good at, that I now am bad at:
- Walking
- Breathing
- Climbing stairs
- Breathing after climbing stairs
- Being patient and kind

When you combine two or three of these things, like climbing the stairs to the train, and trying to be kind to my fellow passengers, I am prone to anger, grimacing, and lingering bad thoughts. I am slowly becoming like the curmudgeon lady that is always huffing and puffing about something, sometimes muttering things like "of course!" or "ridiculous!" under her breath.

That brings me to a question: if the person you dread seeing the most in life is the curmudgeon lady, yet you see that you are slowing becoming her, does that speed or retard your progression in becoming like her?

Other things that now annoy me, EVERY MORNING:
- People that don't hold the door for me
- People that push pass me to get on the escalator
- The fact that the conductor does not open the heavy train door, nor does he ever offer to help me up or down the stairs. (What does he do? Looks at my pass, but that's about it)
- People staring at me, and if I look up at them, then they want to know 400 things about me and the baby
- People who sit next to me that elbow me in the belly while trying to find things in their enormous bags, which they probably just smacked me with while they sat down
- People that don't move when the nice man in the wheelchair gets on the train - I can only imagine what HIS list looks like, but he has a kind face and maybe not as many hormones as I do... so maybe he has just resigned himself to this routine

And there are 8 more weeks. Sheesh. That seems like a VERY long time to me right now.

Photo credit: Ciiru Michuki

2010-01-24T12:10:00.003-05:00

Stress

2010-01-21T15:46:00.003-05:00

Well, it's that time of year again. The dreaded Spring Semester. When the students begin to implode, my carpal tunnel returns, and I kick my mind into overdrive to get it all done.

Except this year is a wee different!

Hormones and fatigue. That's what's different.

So last night, after an insane day of non-stop students and new presentations cropping up like mushrooms in a damp, smelly place, I kind of lost it.

I was on the verge of losing it, but then my husband was about 90 seconds late to pick me up and that proverbial straw broke this proverbial camel's back. And it was ugly for a nice, cathartic 15 minutes. But my poor husband. Sweet man. That 15 minutes must have been tough. Sorry 'hon!

I'm better today. I got an A+ from the doctor on all fronts. I have to start keeping track of the baby's kicking now and cut back on non-nutritious food to ensure that she keeps on growing those neurons, packing on that cute little chub, and strengthening that skeleton of hers.

One side note: For those of you that have been placing bets on when my belly button will poke out, the time is near. When I laugh hard now, it pokes out and in like my friend Bug Out Bob up there. Kind of creepy, a little gross, and terribly funny when you are already laughing hysterically.

Weekend Analogy: Clown Car

2010-01-19T10:23:00.003-05:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

It was a three day weekend.

Included in this very full weekend was:
- The first meeting of a new writing group (super fun)
- A photo shoot with a friend to document the bump (also super fun)
- The arrival of my sister in law from Kenya (way fun)
- Two shopping trips, five sets of visitors, many meals, and 400 sets of dishes to wash (alot of work, but fun none-the-less)
- Ten hours of the only thing on our TV being coverage of the devastation in Haiti (tragic and not in the least bit fun)
- One 17th month old with strep throat, one 20 month old with destructive tendencies, and one very-soon-to-be 5 year old with a strong desire to become Julia Child (anxiety inducing)

I am so exhausted, I can barely function. And I have 5 more days to go.

Sheesh. Too bad you can't take speed while pregnant. I totally would.