It rained yesterday. Just after baby girl and I arrived home in the evening, me tired from a long day of work, her cranky from two more pesky teeth that are slow in making their way in. It wasn't a gloomy rain, the kind of rain that would have fit my mood lately, the kind of rain that makes you want to wrap up in a blanket and eat soup. In fact, it was still sunny outside. Big Texas storm heads towered their way up into the sky, billowing, roiling in the late afternoon heat. And it wasn't the storm rain, the hard, stinging deluge we so often see. The raindrops fell big and fat, glinting in the sun. It was like watching sprinkler drops fall. Soft.
I took baby girl outside for her first rain storm. We sat on our covered back porch and listened to the rain fall on the roof, on the grill, on the grass. She was delighted, overcome with new sounds, with the sight of the shining, glittering, falling rain. She twisted and turned in my lap, not sure of where to look first. She is just on the brink of the next stage of her life, when she'll no longer be content to sit on my lap and watch the world go by. She moves as if to leave me, gets just to the edge of going off on her own, and then, as if sensing the impending distance between us, rushes back to my arms, my chest, my embrace, only to immediately turn around again and ponder her options for freedom. I cherish the time I do have her, on me, with me, needing me.
The wind gusted, and a fine sheen of mist blew in on us. Startled, she closed her eyes to the moisture and took a deep breath. The wind kept blowing, gusting, and with each gust we were sprayed with a wet mist. She took a couple of seconds and opened her eyes, staring into the face of the wind, of the rain, as if to say, "I'm onto you!" And then, her bravery used up, she buried herself into my chest, snuggling in, to turn and face the wind and rain from the comfort of my body. Secure. Warm. Safe. I wrapped my arms around her and we sat and felt the mist, and I thought to myself, "This is my daughter I am holding." So often I think of her as her own little person, as Ali, as baby girl, as our funny little baby who makes us laugh a million times a day. Rarely do I connect that thought to myself. Rarely to I stop and remember she is my daughter. I have a child. And at that moment, my confident, brave, independent child was snuggling into me and staying put, needing her mother, curious about the sound and sight and feel of the rain, but needing me there to make it all bearable.
And then the wind stopped, and with it the wetness on our skin, and she popped back up and looked around, as if trying to spot the fleeing wind and mist. And the moment passed.
As the rain tapered off, we stepped out into the sunshine and felt the remaining fat, gentle, soft rain drops fall on our arms and backs and faces. I held out my hand to show her how to catch the rain, and I had a vision of her holding out her hand as well, a vision of us standing still together in the sun-lit rain and catching rain drops. How perfect.
Only she didn't hold out her hand. Instead, she brought her hand down on mine, clap-clap-clapping it like we had done a million times before. She didn't get my vision. She didn't understand the perfection that would have been had we both just stood there together, feeling the rain. All she saw, all she understood, was the clapping game we had played again and again and again. So she saw my hand, and, ignoring the dripping drops of rain on her arms and back and face, she brought her tiny hand down on mine again and again and turned to look at me with her trademark, open-mouthed grin, delighted.
And that was even more perfect.
Because motherhood isn't about the kind of perfect moments we see in our mind's eye; it isn't about the things we plan for, the things we envision. Motherhood is about the things that are real. The games we play together that are the result of the infinite moments we live together. It's about your child doing not what you think they should do in a perfect moment, but the things that they always do with you, loving you, learning with you, day in and day out.
It rained yesterday. And with that rain brought two unexpected moments of perfection. A moment of stillness, a prolonged snuggle, a need for comfort. And a moment of fun, of habit, of joy at the games played together.
And gratitude. Gratitude fell from the sky, from my heart, from my eyes as well. Gratitude for the moments we have.
And my tears, like the rain, glittered in the sun.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Unadulteration
Adulterate. To corrupt, debase, or make impure by adding foreign substances. Interesting because the suffix -ate means "to become or make into."
Adulterate. To become an adult. To corrupt something innocent. To make something that is pure impure by adding . . . what? Life lessons? Experience? Age? All of the above?
So as we grow from child to adult, we become corrupted. Our innocence is lost. Our naivete. Our purity. Our opinions change. Our outlook changes. Some call it "growing up." Most try to cage it as a positive thing. Can you imagine an adult with a child's trust, a child's wonder, a child's innocence? They wouldn't last one day in today's world.
I thought it was a positive change. I thought about how gullible I was as a child. How ruled by wild emotions and whims. How undisciplined. I thought with pride about how much I've grown as I've aged, how far I've come, how much more I know now than I did then, how much calmer and more controlled I am.
Then I had a child. I looked forward to giving her a childhood like mine, a childhood filled with wonder and magic and cackles of laughter that mix with sprinkler drops in the hot summer sun. A childhood filled with innocence. I would give her innocence and she would give me experience. She would help me grow up even more, to learn the lessons that still needed learning, to gain the strength and discipline and fortitude and determination that I still needed to gain. And she has. Through my daughter, I have learned to stand my ground, to become an advocate. She has given me strength. And confidence. She has helped me become more and more the adult I want to be.
But she has also given me something else. Something unexpected.
When I watch her interact with her world, when I see the wonder in her eyes, the unmitigated delight, I find myself swept along in her vision. Suddenly a ball rolling across the floor becomes a miracle. A cat's tail twitching just out of her grasp again and again becomes the funniest joke ever told. Rolling back and forth on a bed together, seeing a duck flap its wings, feeling a strong gust of wind in my face, exploring the movement of arms and legs and fingers . . . they all become moments of wonder and fascination and joy. I see a hippo at the zoo through a child's eyes, not my adult eyes that have seen hippos before, my adult eyes that are no longer impressed with the rough skin and huge haunches and funny face.
Having a child has given me back a sense of innocence. Of discovery. Of wonder with the every day.
Because there is no "every day" with a child. Every moment, every object, is new and delightful.
She has given me back a taste of my unadulterated perspective. Of how I saw the world before I grew up.
And though the growth I have experienced as a person, as a woman, as a mother, as an adult since her birth has been incredible . . . it's the antithesis of that, the reversion to the innocence and wonder of childhood, the unadulteration of my mind, that has been the true gift.
What a miracle this is. What a joy.
Adulterate. To become an adult. To corrupt something innocent. To make something that is pure impure by adding . . . what? Life lessons? Experience? Age? All of the above?
So as we grow from child to adult, we become corrupted. Our innocence is lost. Our naivete. Our purity. Our opinions change. Our outlook changes. Some call it "growing up." Most try to cage it as a positive thing. Can you imagine an adult with a child's trust, a child's wonder, a child's innocence? They wouldn't last one day in today's world.
I thought it was a positive change. I thought about how gullible I was as a child. How ruled by wild emotions and whims. How undisciplined. I thought with pride about how much I've grown as I've aged, how far I've come, how much more I know now than I did then, how much calmer and more controlled I am.
Then I had a child. I looked forward to giving her a childhood like mine, a childhood filled with wonder and magic and cackles of laughter that mix with sprinkler drops in the hot summer sun. A childhood filled with innocence. I would give her innocence and she would give me experience. She would help me grow up even more, to learn the lessons that still needed learning, to gain the strength and discipline and fortitude and determination that I still needed to gain. And she has. Through my daughter, I have learned to stand my ground, to become an advocate. She has given me strength. And confidence. She has helped me become more and more the adult I want to be.
But she has also given me something else. Something unexpected.
When I watch her interact with her world, when I see the wonder in her eyes, the unmitigated delight, I find myself swept along in her vision. Suddenly a ball rolling across the floor becomes a miracle. A cat's tail twitching just out of her grasp again and again becomes the funniest joke ever told. Rolling back and forth on a bed together, seeing a duck flap its wings, feeling a strong gust of wind in my face, exploring the movement of arms and legs and fingers . . . they all become moments of wonder and fascination and joy. I see a hippo at the zoo through a child's eyes, not my adult eyes that have seen hippos before, my adult eyes that are no longer impressed with the rough skin and huge haunches and funny face.
Having a child has given me back a sense of innocence. Of discovery. Of wonder with the every day.
Because there is no "every day" with a child. Every moment, every object, is new and delightful.
She has given me back a taste of my unadulterated perspective. Of how I saw the world before I grew up.
And though the growth I have experienced as a person, as a woman, as a mother, as an adult since her birth has been incredible . . . it's the antithesis of that, the reversion to the innocence and wonder of childhood, the unadulteration of my mind, that has been the true gift.
What a miracle this is. What a joy.
Monday, May 17, 2010
8 months
Saturday, baby girl, you turned 8 months old. I missed getting the chance to write this on your actual 8-month birthday because your Bubbie and Zeydie were in town visiting, and we were busy having fun! Rest assured though that you were wished a happy 8-month birthday all.day.long. by everybody, including your Uncle Eugene!
Have I already said that a certain age is my favorite age ever? Yes? Well I'm saying it again. Eight months old is my FAVORITE! You have become such a fun, funny, sweet, funny, energetic, funny, entertaining, delightful, and oh-did-I-mention funny baby girl! You are the life of the party, the belle of the ball, wherever we go. You are loud, and you love vocalizing all your different sounds (you have so many now!) and experimenting with different volumes. You go from whispered "puh" sounds to shrieks of "BABABA!!!!" Not only are you listening to and entertaining yourself, but you are looking for reactions in those around you as well. Anytime you get a reaction out of someone, be it a smile or a look of surprise or the same sounds imitated back to you, you crinkle up your little nose in the most adorable smile ever and then continue on your merry noise-making way. You are also experimenting with sounds in other ways--sometimes you beat your chest while yelling because you like the way the thuds make your voice change. You have also learned how to make a "bub-bub-bub" sound by making the "b" sound while strumming your bottom lip like a guitar string. You will do it while your dad or I strum your bottom lip for you, and if we aren't around when the mood strikes, you'll do it yourself. It is the funniest thing ever to ear a gentle "bub-bub-bub" over the monitor to let us know that you have woken up from your nap. You will also try to strum our bottom lips to make the same "bub-bub-bub" noise. You are such a smart little cookie.
In addition to your rapidly developing vocal skills, you are making leaps and strides in your physical skills as well! You are learning how to wave bye-bye and have started to pair it with the "b" sound. Your bye-bye sounds something like "ba-ba" and you are usually waving at yourself, creating pretty much the cutest goodbye in the history of the world. A couple of weeks ago you managed to push yourself from laying on your stomach to sitting upright! You are pulling up to stand when you hold onto our hands and are starting to be able to use my shoulders to stand up when you are sitting on my lap. Though you have never been much of a roller, you are now rolling across the floor in a single direction--this has made for some funny discoveries of you up against the TV stand, or over under your jumperoo. And in the most exciting news, you are just on the brink of crawling. You can get up on all fours and rock back and forth (like revving your engine--I need to get it on video because it is awesome!), but then you get tired and drop back onto your tummy, or quite often your arms overpower your legs and you end up pushing yourself backwards. But last night you finally make some forward momentum in your efforts to get to my cell phone (you LOOOVE phones, baby girl! I'm wondering if this is a portent of things to come in your teenage years). You would get up on all fours and lunge forward, making an inch or two of progress each time. I know you'll be crawling soon, and as excited as I am to watch you learn and grow and gain new skills, I am also relishing these last few days or weeks when you still pretty much stay where we put you. I have no doubt that you are going to keep us on our toes when you become fully mobile!
A couple of days ago we were playing with a ball, rolling it back and forth from me to you, and you were having fits of laughter! We have heard you laugh before, but it's always a bit restrained, a giggle here and there. But this! This was waves, unmitigated waves of laughter, erupting out of you uncontrollably. It was the single most fantastic thing I've ever heard ever. You would laugh to see the ball rolling, you would laugh when it came to you, you would laugh as you rolled it around in front of you, and you would laugh to see it rolling away. Your delight in the world around you is our delight, and I hope you never, ever cease to be so amused and delighted with life!
This month has been filled with family--we had a family reunion with G-Mommy's side of the family. It was your first time meeting all of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and of course they were all completely smitten with you. You are an absolute charmer. There were 20-25 people around G-Mommy and Graddaddy's house at any given moment, and even though it was a lot of chaos, you handled it all like a total champ. You loved watching all of your cousins and second cousins running around, you were thrilled to be passed from lap to lap for hugs and entertaining, and you even took your regular great naps. One day we took a train into downtown Dallas, and you napped while I wore you and woke up happy and ready to see the city. You are such an adaptable, easy going baby! We had another family reunion on Grandpa's side, and they had a dog! You loved the big fuzzy animal and shrieked delightedly and waved your hands in the air any time he came into the room. And he loved you, too, especially when you were eating dinner. He came right over and licked your face from chin to forehead to get off the errant bits of squash, and you thought that was the best thing ever.
And speaking of food--you are a great eater! We haven't really discovered any food that you don't like, and we are gradually moving from purees to finger foods. Even though you have been eating on fresh fruit like apples, pears and bananas from the very beginning, we are starting to give you green beans, steamed broccoli and other solid veggies to let you learn how to eat "real" food and feed yourself. Right now you are more content to smoosh the veggies up between your fingers and feel the textures than you are to actually put them into your mouth, but when we pick them up to feed you, you open your mouth excitedly and you are already a champ at taking bites and chewing. Pretty soon you will be able to eat off of our plates. It's amazing what a big girl you are. We sent some puffs with you to school last week because your teacher told us she wanted to start practicing your pincer grip and feeding yourself--you shocked her with being able to pick up the smallest little piece already (you are a master at that pincer grip, little one . . . and you practice every time you nurse by trying to pinch the freckle off my chest! Ouch!) and get it straight into your mouth. However, you had to make sure that you had a fistful of puffs before bothering to feed yourself any, and you made sure that your fists stayed full the entire time--funny girl!
You are starting to communicate what you want--and don't want. When I change your diaper or put you down or when you are done nursing, you arch your back and let out the loudest, saddest wailing cry. But don't be fooled! There are no tears running down your cheeks, and when I pick you back up, you immediately smile and look around for the next fun thing to do. I think we're going to have our hands full with disciplining you. Up until now, really my entire job has been to love on you and make you feel safe and secure and give you exactly what you want. I am not looking forward to that next step, the discipline step. I wish I could just love on you and give you exactly what you want for always and forever.
This has really been the first month when I've looked at you and marveled about how big you've gotten. You are about to outgrow your 9-month sleepers--anything that has to fit over your long legs requires us to go a size up from what all your other clothes are. Your hair is thick and curling. Your two bottom teeth are perfectly adorable and make your nose-crinkly little grin even that much more heart melting.
I know big things are in store for us, just over the horizon. Talking. Crawling. Walking. I can't wait. I can't wait to see you grow and learn, to see the evolution of your funny little personality. But I'm also loving today. Loving my toothy, long, funny, energetic baby girl whose delight in the world around her is matched only by my delight in her.
Happy 8-month birthday to the most adored baby girl in the whole universe.
Love,
Mom
Have I already said that a certain age is my favorite age ever? Yes? Well I'm saying it again. Eight months old is my FAVORITE! You have become such a fun, funny, sweet, funny, energetic, funny, entertaining, delightful, and oh-did-I-mention funny baby girl! You are the life of the party, the belle of the ball, wherever we go. You are loud, and you love vocalizing all your different sounds (you have so many now!) and experimenting with different volumes. You go from whispered "puh" sounds to shrieks of "BABABA!!!!" Not only are you listening to and entertaining yourself, but you are looking for reactions in those around you as well. Anytime you get a reaction out of someone, be it a smile or a look of surprise or the same sounds imitated back to you, you crinkle up your little nose in the most adorable smile ever and then continue on your merry noise-making way. You are also experimenting with sounds in other ways--sometimes you beat your chest while yelling because you like the way the thuds make your voice change. You have also learned how to make a "bub-bub-bub" sound by making the "b" sound while strumming your bottom lip like a guitar string. You will do it while your dad or I strum your bottom lip for you, and if we aren't around when the mood strikes, you'll do it yourself. It is the funniest thing ever to ear a gentle "bub-bub-bub" over the monitor to let us know that you have woken up from your nap. You will also try to strum our bottom lips to make the same "bub-bub-bub" noise. You are such a smart little cookie.
In addition to your rapidly developing vocal skills, you are making leaps and strides in your physical skills as well! You are learning how to wave bye-bye and have started to pair it with the "b" sound. Your bye-bye sounds something like "ba-ba" and you are usually waving at yourself, creating pretty much the cutest goodbye in the history of the world. A couple of weeks ago you managed to push yourself from laying on your stomach to sitting upright! You are pulling up to stand when you hold onto our hands and are starting to be able to use my shoulders to stand up when you are sitting on my lap. Though you have never been much of a roller, you are now rolling across the floor in a single direction--this has made for some funny discoveries of you up against the TV stand, or over under your jumperoo. And in the most exciting news, you are just on the brink of crawling. You can get up on all fours and rock back and forth (like revving your engine--I need to get it on video because it is awesome!), but then you get tired and drop back onto your tummy, or quite often your arms overpower your legs and you end up pushing yourself backwards. But last night you finally make some forward momentum in your efforts to get to my cell phone (you LOOOVE phones, baby girl! I'm wondering if this is a portent of things to come in your teenage years). You would get up on all fours and lunge forward, making an inch or two of progress each time. I know you'll be crawling soon, and as excited as I am to watch you learn and grow and gain new skills, I am also relishing these last few days or weeks when you still pretty much stay where we put you. I have no doubt that you are going to keep us on our toes when you become fully mobile!
A couple of days ago we were playing with a ball, rolling it back and forth from me to you, and you were having fits of laughter! We have heard you laugh before, but it's always a bit restrained, a giggle here and there. But this! This was waves, unmitigated waves of laughter, erupting out of you uncontrollably. It was the single most fantastic thing I've ever heard ever. You would laugh to see the ball rolling, you would laugh when it came to you, you would laugh as you rolled it around in front of you, and you would laugh to see it rolling away. Your delight in the world around you is our delight, and I hope you never, ever cease to be so amused and delighted with life!
This month has been filled with family--we had a family reunion with G-Mommy's side of the family. It was your first time meeting all of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and of course they were all completely smitten with you. You are an absolute charmer. There were 20-25 people around G-Mommy and Graddaddy's house at any given moment, and even though it was a lot of chaos, you handled it all like a total champ. You loved watching all of your cousins and second cousins running around, you were thrilled to be passed from lap to lap for hugs and entertaining, and you even took your regular great naps. One day we took a train into downtown Dallas, and you napped while I wore you and woke up happy and ready to see the city. You are such an adaptable, easy going baby! We had another family reunion on Grandpa's side, and they had a dog! You loved the big fuzzy animal and shrieked delightedly and waved your hands in the air any time he came into the room. And he loved you, too, especially when you were eating dinner. He came right over and licked your face from chin to forehead to get off the errant bits of squash, and you thought that was the best thing ever.
And speaking of food--you are a great eater! We haven't really discovered any food that you don't like, and we are gradually moving from purees to finger foods. Even though you have been eating on fresh fruit like apples, pears and bananas from the very beginning, we are starting to give you green beans, steamed broccoli and other solid veggies to let you learn how to eat "real" food and feed yourself. Right now you are more content to smoosh the veggies up between your fingers and feel the textures than you are to actually put them into your mouth, but when we pick them up to feed you, you open your mouth excitedly and you are already a champ at taking bites and chewing. Pretty soon you will be able to eat off of our plates. It's amazing what a big girl you are. We sent some puffs with you to school last week because your teacher told us she wanted to start practicing your pincer grip and feeding yourself--you shocked her with being able to pick up the smallest little piece already (you are a master at that pincer grip, little one . . . and you practice every time you nurse by trying to pinch the freckle off my chest! Ouch!) and get it straight into your mouth. However, you had to make sure that you had a fistful of puffs before bothering to feed yourself any, and you made sure that your fists stayed full the entire time--funny girl!
You are starting to communicate what you want--and don't want. When I change your diaper or put you down or when you are done nursing, you arch your back and let out the loudest, saddest wailing cry. But don't be fooled! There are no tears running down your cheeks, and when I pick you back up, you immediately smile and look around for the next fun thing to do. I think we're going to have our hands full with disciplining you. Up until now, really my entire job has been to love on you and make you feel safe and secure and give you exactly what you want. I am not looking forward to that next step, the discipline step. I wish I could just love on you and give you exactly what you want for always and forever.
This has really been the first month when I've looked at you and marveled about how big you've gotten. You are about to outgrow your 9-month sleepers--anything that has to fit over your long legs requires us to go a size up from what all your other clothes are. Your hair is thick and curling. Your two bottom teeth are perfectly adorable and make your nose-crinkly little grin even that much more heart melting.
I know big things are in store for us, just over the horizon. Talking. Crawling. Walking. I can't wait. I can't wait to see you grow and learn, to see the evolution of your funny little personality. But I'm also loving today. Loving my toothy, long, funny, energetic baby girl whose delight in the world around her is matched only by my delight in her.
Happy 8-month birthday to the most adored baby girl in the whole universe.
Love,
Mom
Friday, May 14, 2010
Five on Friday
1. I have an email sitting in my inbox with the subject line, "Your 8-month-old: Week 1." I am avoiding opening it. Opening it means admitting I have an 8-month-old. EIGHT-month-old. I'm not in denial. I'm just in . . . avoidance of acceptance.
2. My in-laws are coming into town this weekend. This is their first weekend visit since their separation. They are driving down separately. As little as I looked forward to their visits before, what with the truly impressive amounts of stress and insanity they seem to bring with them wherever they go, I am absolutely dreading it now that they are separated and will be forced to (1) be in the same place again, and (2) share the baby with each other. KillMeNow.
3. We are going to a friend's wedding Saturday night. It will be only the second time in baby girl's entire life (EIGHT months) that I haven't been there to put her to sleep. It makes me sad. At the same time, I am really looking forward to an entire evening out with our friends, drinking, dancing, celebrating, and generally making merry.
(3.1. I have to find some kind of appropriate wedding attire to wear. I am both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of getting all fancied up again.)
4. I have very little trust that my ILs will do things when we are out the way we would like them done. I hate leaving my daughter with them. I hate that I have to hate leaving my daughter with them.
5. :::this one is being whispered::: Remember this post, the one where I thought I must have been crazy about thinking about trying again for #2 so soon? Remember when I said that maybe I would just wake up one day and suddenly be ready to do it all again? Yeah. I don't know what happened in the last five weeks . . . but I was actually kind of bummed when TH came home with a big box of condoms last night. How crazy is THAT?
2. My in-laws are coming into town this weekend. This is their first weekend visit since their separation. They are driving down separately. As little as I looked forward to their visits before, what with the truly impressive amounts of stress and insanity they seem to bring with them wherever they go, I am absolutely dreading it now that they are separated and will be forced to (1) be in the same place again, and (2) share the baby with each other. KillMeNow.
3. We are going to a friend's wedding Saturday night. It will be only the second time in baby girl's entire life (EIGHT months) that I haven't been there to put her to sleep. It makes me sad. At the same time, I am really looking forward to an entire evening out with our friends, drinking, dancing, celebrating, and generally making merry.
(3.1. I have to find some kind of appropriate wedding attire to wear. I am both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of getting all fancied up again.)
4. I have very little trust that my ILs will do things when we are out the way we would like them done. I hate leaving my daughter with them. I hate that I have to hate leaving my daughter with them.
5. :::this one is being whispered::: Remember this post, the one where I thought I must have been crazy about thinking about trying again for #2 so soon? Remember when I said that maybe I would just wake up one day and suddenly be ready to do it all again? Yeah. I don't know what happened in the last five weeks . . . but I was actually kind of bummed when TH came home with a big box of condoms last night. How crazy is THAT?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Ten on Tuesday
1. Baby girl is now rocking on her hands and knees. She has been pretty gradual with most of her milestones (accept independent sitting . . . once she got a taste of that she had it down in 3 days flat!), so I think we still have a while to go before crawling. But man. It's coming.
2. I gave her some puffs for the first time last night. She still hasn't figured out the whole "feed herself" thing (which makes our meals easy-peasy since she lets me feed her and isn't constantly trying to take the spoon to do it herself!), so really it turned into a game of "How Many Puffs Can I Hold in My Hands at Once?" The answer: 7.
3. She is also turning into a problem solver. Since her hands were filled with precious puffs (see #2), I was curious to see what she would do if I put the sippy cup in front of her. She looked at her right hand--filled with puffs. Looked at her left hand--filled with puffs. Looked at the sippy cup . . . and took her mouth right down to the spout, clamped on, and tried to lift it with just her mouth. Atta girl!
4. Baby girl has developed a cough. No fever. Normal sleep. Normal appetite. Normal mood. But a wet cough that I don't like one bit. I called the doctor, and the doctor said until something gets worse, there's nothing that can be done. So we just have to sit and wait for it to improve or worsen. I hate that.
5. Baby girl can pinch now. She is working on her pincer grasp with her thumb and forefinger, and when she nurses, she now tries to pinch my freckle off my chest rather than trying to grab it with her whole hand. MotherEffer it hurts.
6. She also pinches her own chest after pinching mine. I think she thinks it's like a game. But I'm also worried she'll give herself bruises and then her teachers at daycare will call CPS on us.
7. Whenever she eats something with a bit of a gritty texture--blueberries, puffs, etc.--she goes digging in her mouth with her fingers after every.bite. so that she can investigate what it is that feels so funny on her tongue. This makes for funny meals and dirty fingers.
8. We had a poo-mergency last night. We were doing naked time, and she pooped while she was sitting up. She looked down and stuck her hand in it before we had realized what happened. TH grabbed her hand and stood her up, where she proceeded to dance and tromp around in her poop and rub her feet up and down her legs. TH just kept yelling, "Worst case scenario!!! Worst case scenario!!!" while I jumped into action, running a bath to rinse her off, grabbing her wipes, and getting everything cleaned up in general. I was proud of myself for keeping my cool. And don't for a second think I will let TH forget his own reaction any time soon.
9. We've been really proud of the kind of family we've turned into. We don't let having a baby become our excuse for a lack of socializing or our ball-and-chain keeping us stuck at home. We load up the kiddo and go to softball games and family reunions and shopping and pretty much anything else we want to do. We are lucky we have such an easy going kid who is happy to do pretty much anything with us.
10. At our family reunion this last Saturday, I felt kind of bad. We were around my cousin and her daughter, who is about 4 months older than baby girl. The difference in the two kids was striking. Her daughter was quiet, a little hesitant, a bit of a snuggler. Baby girl was, as usual, babbling and rolling and shrieking and laughing and waving her arms to get everyone to look at her. Our family couldn't stop talking about how adorable she is and what a great personality she has. Apparently they were still talking about it all evening, even after we left. I tried to turn some of the attention onto her cousin, saying things like, "Oh my goodness, you're so close to walking!! Look at you!!" but TH--ever the proud father--didn't realize what I was doing and would just pipe up, "Look! Ali can take steps, too!" He got several shutthehellup looks, but he never caught on. Anyway, I felt bad that baby girl got so much attention and her cousin was basically the wall-flower baby. We are going to said-cousin's first birthday party in two weeks, so I've already given TH a pep talk about how ALLLL of the attention needs to remain on the birthday girl.
Bonus #11: I forgot to mention--baby girl went from laying on her stomach to sitting up all on her own! We were having tummy time the other night, and TH and I were down on the ground next to her but focusing on our many Words with Friends games. I notice out of the side of my eye that she's gradually getting a lot taller . . . only to look over and see her sitting up!! She hasn't done it again since, but we don't do a LOT of tummy time any more, so I'm not really surprised. But that was the most excited I've been about a milestone in a while. It is so, so, so awesome to see her learn and grow.
2. I gave her some puffs for the first time last night. She still hasn't figured out the whole "feed herself" thing (which makes our meals easy-peasy since she lets me feed her and isn't constantly trying to take the spoon to do it herself!), so really it turned into a game of "How Many Puffs Can I Hold in My Hands at Once?" The answer: 7.
3. She is also turning into a problem solver. Since her hands were filled with precious puffs (see #2), I was curious to see what she would do if I put the sippy cup in front of her. She looked at her right hand--filled with puffs. Looked at her left hand--filled with puffs. Looked at the sippy cup . . . and took her mouth right down to the spout, clamped on, and tried to lift it with just her mouth. Atta girl!
4. Baby girl has developed a cough. No fever. Normal sleep. Normal appetite. Normal mood. But a wet cough that I don't like one bit. I called the doctor, and the doctor said until something gets worse, there's nothing that can be done. So we just have to sit and wait for it to improve or worsen. I hate that.
5. Baby girl can pinch now. She is working on her pincer grasp with her thumb and forefinger, and when she nurses, she now tries to pinch my freckle off my chest rather than trying to grab it with her whole hand. MotherEffer it hurts.
6. She also pinches her own chest after pinching mine. I think she thinks it's like a game. But I'm also worried she'll give herself bruises and then her teachers at daycare will call CPS on us.
7. Whenever she eats something with a bit of a gritty texture--blueberries, puffs, etc.--she goes digging in her mouth with her fingers after every.bite. so that she can investigate what it is that feels so funny on her tongue. This makes for funny meals and dirty fingers.
8. We had a poo-mergency last night. We were doing naked time, and she pooped while she was sitting up. She looked down and stuck her hand in it before we had realized what happened. TH grabbed her hand and stood her up, where she proceeded to dance and tromp around in her poop and rub her feet up and down her legs. TH just kept yelling, "Worst case scenario!!! Worst case scenario!!!" while I jumped into action, running a bath to rinse her off, grabbing her wipes, and getting everything cleaned up in general. I was proud of myself for keeping my cool. And don't for a second think I will let TH forget his own reaction any time soon.
9. We've been really proud of the kind of family we've turned into. We don't let having a baby become our excuse for a lack of socializing or our ball-and-chain keeping us stuck at home. We load up the kiddo and go to softball games and family reunions and shopping and pretty much anything else we want to do. We are lucky we have such an easy going kid who is happy to do pretty much anything with us.
10. At our family reunion this last Saturday, I felt kind of bad. We were around my cousin and her daughter, who is about 4 months older than baby girl. The difference in the two kids was striking. Her daughter was quiet, a little hesitant, a bit of a snuggler. Baby girl was, as usual, babbling and rolling and shrieking and laughing and waving her arms to get everyone to look at her. Our family couldn't stop talking about how adorable she is and what a great personality she has. Apparently they were still talking about it all evening, even after we left. I tried to turn some of the attention onto her cousin, saying things like, "Oh my goodness, you're so close to walking!! Look at you!!" but TH--ever the proud father--didn't realize what I was doing and would just pipe up, "Look! Ali can take steps, too!" He got several shutthehellup looks, but he never caught on. Anyway, I felt bad that baby girl got so much attention and her cousin was basically the wall-flower baby. We are going to said-cousin's first birthday party in two weeks, so I've already given TH a pep talk about how ALLLL of the attention needs to remain on the birthday girl.
Bonus #11: I forgot to mention--baby girl went from laying on her stomach to sitting up all on her own! We were having tummy time the other night, and TH and I were down on the ground next to her but focusing on our many Words with Friends games. I notice out of the side of my eye that she's gradually getting a lot taller . . . only to look over and see her sitting up!! She hasn't done it again since, but we don't do a LOT of tummy time any more, so I'm not really surprised. But that was the most excited I've been about a milestone in a while. It is so, so, so awesome to see her learn and grow.
Monday, May 10, 2010
My Husband Slept In on Mother's Day
My husband slept in on Mother's Day.
At 6:30 in the morning, when baby girl woke up and started rolling around, babbling, watching her hands open and close in the air above her, making the bub-bub-bub noise with her lips, he slept and I woke up and watched her on the monitor.
I got up, pulling my short hair back into a nubby little pony tail so that it's out of reach of her tiny pulling hands. When I opened the door to her room, she startled and pushed up to all fours so that she could see who was coming to get her. Her morning smile, her mom smile, broke across her face, and her little butt rocked back and forth with excitement. She dropped down to her chest so that she could hold her arms out to be picked up, making her look like a little baby supergirl. I scooped her up, and she snuggled her head into my shoulder, smiling, before sitting back up to look for "k-k"--the kitty. Our morning ritual. And then an unexpected gift--a sloppy, open-mouthed, good-morning kiss.
While my husband slept, I changed her diaper, singing and dancing and making funny faces in an attempt to keep her entertained enough to forget that she hates getting her diaper changed right now. Then we settled into our chair and I nursed her, wincing from each time she tried to pinch my freckle off my chest, trying to get her instead to grab my nose or my teeth or my lips. Then we settled into the living room and played peak-a-boo and pat-a-cake. We chased the cats around the house. We built and knocked down towers. We made little animals pop up and then quickly closed them all again.
I fed her breakfast--oatmeal and blueberries. It was a delightful mess. She reached into her mouth after each bite, trying to feel the tiny gritty pieces that sat on her tongue. She rubbed her blueberry fingers all over her face, all over her tray. She tried to eat the bottom of her sippy cup. She tried to reach the cats as they ran by.
She sat on the kitchen floor, waving a spatula and using it to beat on plastic bowls, while I made batch after batch of food for her--sweet potato and squash; squash and zucchini; pear, apple, and banana. I cooked and cleaned and listened to her cackle every time her mechanical ball spun and spoke on its own.
Then we moved to the jumper and she jumped and turned the pages of her book and laughed while she watched me jump in front of her. More peak-a-boo. More chasing the cats. More knocking down of towers.
While my husband slept, I held her. We sang songs. We read books. I held her and rocked her while her tiny little hands, free from their blueberry stains, reached up and grabbed my nose. We stared into each other's eyes, each seeing the same color looking back. The long, slow blinks. The snuggle into the crook of my elbow.
My husband slept in on Mother's Day. And when he woke up, somewhere around oatmeal with blueberries, I sent him back to bed. For those three hours, the first three hours of my second first Mother's Day, I had my daughter to myself. Uninterrupted. Unshared.
Unsurpassed.
At 6:30 in the morning, when baby girl woke up and started rolling around, babbling, watching her hands open and close in the air above her, making the bub-bub-bub noise with her lips, he slept and I woke up and watched her on the monitor.
I got up, pulling my short hair back into a nubby little pony tail so that it's out of reach of her tiny pulling hands. When I opened the door to her room, she startled and pushed up to all fours so that she could see who was coming to get her. Her morning smile, her mom smile, broke across her face, and her little butt rocked back and forth with excitement. She dropped down to her chest so that she could hold her arms out to be picked up, making her look like a little baby supergirl. I scooped her up, and she snuggled her head into my shoulder, smiling, before sitting back up to look for "k-k"--the kitty. Our morning ritual. And then an unexpected gift--a sloppy, open-mouthed, good-morning kiss.
While my husband slept, I changed her diaper, singing and dancing and making funny faces in an attempt to keep her entertained enough to forget that she hates getting her diaper changed right now. Then we settled into our chair and I nursed her, wincing from each time she tried to pinch my freckle off my chest, trying to get her instead to grab my nose or my teeth or my lips. Then we settled into the living room and played peak-a-boo and pat-a-cake. We chased the cats around the house. We built and knocked down towers. We made little animals pop up and then quickly closed them all again.
I fed her breakfast--oatmeal and blueberries. It was a delightful mess. She reached into her mouth after each bite, trying to feel the tiny gritty pieces that sat on her tongue. She rubbed her blueberry fingers all over her face, all over her tray. She tried to eat the bottom of her sippy cup. She tried to reach the cats as they ran by.
She sat on the kitchen floor, waving a spatula and using it to beat on plastic bowls, while I made batch after batch of food for her--sweet potato and squash; squash and zucchini; pear, apple, and banana. I cooked and cleaned and listened to her cackle every time her mechanical ball spun and spoke on its own.
Then we moved to the jumper and she jumped and turned the pages of her book and laughed while she watched me jump in front of her. More peak-a-boo. More chasing the cats. More knocking down of towers.
While my husband slept, I held her. We sang songs. We read books. I held her and rocked her while her tiny little hands, free from their blueberry stains, reached up and grabbed my nose. We stared into each other's eyes, each seeing the same color looking back. The long, slow blinks. The snuggle into the crook of my elbow.
My husband slept in on Mother's Day. And when he woke up, somewhere around oatmeal with blueberries, I sent him back to bed. For those three hours, the first three hours of my second first Mother's Day, I had my daughter to myself. Uninterrupted. Unshared.
Unsurpassed.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
D.I.D.
Things have been tough. I'm reminded of a metaphor I once thought of to describe mothers. Mothers are ducks. It may look like things are smooth and easy on the surface, but underneath the surface, there is a constant frenzy of thought and action going on in order to keep everything moving. So maybe that's the way it is with us, with this blog, too. Yes, I post all the time about how cute baby girl is, about her newest amazing skill or a funny new trick. Things may have seemed smooth and easy. But behind the scenes, the reality is, things have been tough.
Work. Work has been tough. My work and TH's work. And when TH's work is tough, TH is just not the same man. He is more easily overwhelmed. Quicker to snap. And that makes our lives tough. Add to work the stress he's been under with his parents' separation. Add to that a slew of trips to visit family taking away most of what little precious time with baby girl we do have. Add to that constant discussions about our careers, our incomes, our decisions. And that adds up to a whole lotta tough.
I realized yesterday as I was brooding yet again about my job, that really there are three courses of action you can take when things get tough. You can dwell on it. You can ignore it. Or you can deal with it.
Dwell. Ignore. Deal.
D. I. D.
The first step. Dwell. You can also call this wallowing. Pouting. Being in a funk. It's all the same thing. When you dwell, you take your negative feelings and you wrap yourself up in them like a giant boo-hoo burrito. You feel indignant. Victimized. Powerless. You think about how unfair life is. How hard it is. How big and mean it is. And that's where your thought, where your action, stop. You wear your unhappiness like a parka. It's your defense against the cold, cruel world. It's your protection. And that's okay. Sometimes you just want to dwell. Sometimes you need to dwell in order to get it out of your system. Sometimes you are so exhausted from things being tough that you literally have no energy to do anything other than to sit there and wrap your pout around you and scowl at the world.
But know that dwelling is just a stage. It needs to be a stage. You aren't meant to get stuck in dwelling. If you do, if you somehow stall out here and can never find a way past the feeling sorry for yourself, that's when it becomes a problem. Because dwelling is the stage at which the little legs under the surface stop kicking. When you dwell, the machinery that drives your life comes to a grinding halt. And that will only, inevitably, make things tougher. So give yourself your time to dwell, to pout, to scowl at the world and to feel sorry for yourself and angry at everyone and everything else. Roll around in it until you are good and stinky. And then make the decision to kick your legs again and get going.
Step two. Ignore. This is one of the options for action, for kicking your legs again, for responding to the tough. Sometimes, you decide to simply ignore the tough. Have a problem you can't fix? Ignore it. Move on. Quit beating your head against a brick wall. Choose a different route. Accept the things you cannot change. Or maybe it's the things that you don't know how to change. Or don't want to put in the effort to change. Whatever your reason, sometimes it feels good to just ignore it. Don't like your job? Ignore the things you don't like. Keep coming to work every day. Husband starting to be a bigger and bigger grump? Rather than telling him how grumpy he is all the time, ignore it. Have faith that things will change. Choose another battle. Let it slide.
Sometimes the tough is solved by simply ignoring it. It may just be a question of outlasting some temporary situation. It may be that by ignoring the problem, you eventually become okay with it. Not every problem is worth fighting. That's the thinking behind the "pick your battles" philosophy. And sometimes, even one that may be worth fighting you choose to ignore. Maybe you think it'll go away on its own. Maybe you just don't have the energy or the strength to fight that battle just yet. But those battles, those are the ones that won't die when you ignore them. They'll keep resurfacing, either in your life or your heart. You'll realize what they are because they won't be ignored. They won't go away. And eventually, these toughest of the toughs . . . these will require step three.
Step three. Deal. Yes, it's not as miserably self-gratifying as dwelling. And it is certainly much harder than simply ignoring. When you deal with a problem, you have to do so many things. You have to analyze it in order to truly understand it, to truly understand all aspects of it. You have to determine what your options are to solve it. You have to analyze each option and think through whether it would actually solve the whole problem or just a symptom or single aspect of the problem. And then, somewhere, you have to find the determination and energy to actually deal. To go through with whatever it takes to solve the tough. To face it. To beat it.
And often, it's a long, loooong process. Because the toughest problems in life are not typically easy fixes. They aren't the things that just go away on their own if you ignore them. They are usually complicated and multifaceted, insidiously snaking their tentacles through many aspects of your existence, like a tumor that wraps itself around organs or a vine that threads itself around every branch of a tree. And the solutions can be complex. Complicated. Involving a certain amount of compromise.
Yes, dealing is the hardest step of the three. But it's also the final step. It's the step where you kick your feet furiously under the water, determined to get moving again, determined not to let the current continue to move you against your wishes. Dealing is how you take back your power. How you respond to the tough.
D.I.D.
Dwell. Ignore. Deal.
So where am I? Which stage am I in, dealing with my own tough life right now? I fluctuate. I've done a lot of wallowing and ignoring. I kind of bounce back and forth between those like a pinball. I ignore. Then the problem arises again and I wallow in my misery of having to face it again. Then I get tired of wallowing, of feeling sorry for myself, and I decide to ignore it again. Rinse. Repeat.
Yesterday I wallowed. What am I doing today? Today, maybe I'm dealing. Maybe DID is my process of meta cognition, of thinking about my own processes, of taking a step back and analyzing where I am, what I'm doing, and what I should be doing instead.
Or maybe it's just another way of ducking the problem. Of thinking of something, anything else. Of distracting myself from doing what I know I have to.
Maybe. All I know is that I'm tired of my feet not moving.
Kick-Kick.
Work. Work has been tough. My work and TH's work. And when TH's work is tough, TH is just not the same man. He is more easily overwhelmed. Quicker to snap. And that makes our lives tough. Add to work the stress he's been under with his parents' separation. Add to that a slew of trips to visit family taking away most of what little precious time with baby girl we do have. Add to that constant discussions about our careers, our incomes, our decisions. And that adds up to a whole lotta tough.
I realized yesterday as I was brooding yet again about my job, that really there are three courses of action you can take when things get tough. You can dwell on it. You can ignore it. Or you can deal with it.
Dwell. Ignore. Deal.
D. I. D.
The first step. Dwell. You can also call this wallowing. Pouting. Being in a funk. It's all the same thing. When you dwell, you take your negative feelings and you wrap yourself up in them like a giant boo-hoo burrito. You feel indignant. Victimized. Powerless. You think about how unfair life is. How hard it is. How big and mean it is. And that's where your thought, where your action, stop. You wear your unhappiness like a parka. It's your defense against the cold, cruel world. It's your protection. And that's okay. Sometimes you just want to dwell. Sometimes you need to dwell in order to get it out of your system. Sometimes you are so exhausted from things being tough that you literally have no energy to do anything other than to sit there and wrap your pout around you and scowl at the world.
But know that dwelling is just a stage. It needs to be a stage. You aren't meant to get stuck in dwelling. If you do, if you somehow stall out here and can never find a way past the feeling sorry for yourself, that's when it becomes a problem. Because dwelling is the stage at which the little legs under the surface stop kicking. When you dwell, the machinery that drives your life comes to a grinding halt. And that will only, inevitably, make things tougher. So give yourself your time to dwell, to pout, to scowl at the world and to feel sorry for yourself and angry at everyone and everything else. Roll around in it until you are good and stinky. And then make the decision to kick your legs again and get going.
Step two. Ignore. This is one of the options for action, for kicking your legs again, for responding to the tough. Sometimes, you decide to simply ignore the tough. Have a problem you can't fix? Ignore it. Move on. Quit beating your head against a brick wall. Choose a different route. Accept the things you cannot change. Or maybe it's the things that you don't know how to change. Or don't want to put in the effort to change. Whatever your reason, sometimes it feels good to just ignore it. Don't like your job? Ignore the things you don't like. Keep coming to work every day. Husband starting to be a bigger and bigger grump? Rather than telling him how grumpy he is all the time, ignore it. Have faith that things will change. Choose another battle. Let it slide.
Sometimes the tough is solved by simply ignoring it. It may just be a question of outlasting some temporary situation. It may be that by ignoring the problem, you eventually become okay with it. Not every problem is worth fighting. That's the thinking behind the "pick your battles" philosophy. And sometimes, even one that may be worth fighting you choose to ignore. Maybe you think it'll go away on its own. Maybe you just don't have the energy or the strength to fight that battle just yet. But those battles, those are the ones that won't die when you ignore them. They'll keep resurfacing, either in your life or your heart. You'll realize what they are because they won't be ignored. They won't go away. And eventually, these toughest of the toughs . . . these will require step three.
Step three. Deal. Yes, it's not as miserably self-gratifying as dwelling. And it is certainly much harder than simply ignoring. When you deal with a problem, you have to do so many things. You have to analyze it in order to truly understand it, to truly understand all aspects of it. You have to determine what your options are to solve it. You have to analyze each option and think through whether it would actually solve the whole problem or just a symptom or single aspect of the problem. And then, somewhere, you have to find the determination and energy to actually deal. To go through with whatever it takes to solve the tough. To face it. To beat it.
And often, it's a long, loooong process. Because the toughest problems in life are not typically easy fixes. They aren't the things that just go away on their own if you ignore them. They are usually complicated and multifaceted, insidiously snaking their tentacles through many aspects of your existence, like a tumor that wraps itself around organs or a vine that threads itself around every branch of a tree. And the solutions can be complex. Complicated. Involving a certain amount of compromise.
Yes, dealing is the hardest step of the three. But it's also the final step. It's the step where you kick your feet furiously under the water, determined to get moving again, determined not to let the current continue to move you against your wishes. Dealing is how you take back your power. How you respond to the tough.
D.I.D.
Dwell. Ignore. Deal.
So where am I? Which stage am I in, dealing with my own tough life right now? I fluctuate. I've done a lot of wallowing and ignoring. I kind of bounce back and forth between those like a pinball. I ignore. Then the problem arises again and I wallow in my misery of having to face it again. Then I get tired of wallowing, of feeling sorry for myself, and I decide to ignore it again. Rinse. Repeat.
Yesterday I wallowed. What am I doing today? Today, maybe I'm dealing. Maybe DID is my process of meta cognition, of thinking about my own processes, of taking a step back and analyzing where I am, what I'm doing, and what I should be doing instead.
Or maybe it's just another way of ducking the problem. Of thinking of something, anything else. Of distracting myself from doing what I know I have to.
Maybe. All I know is that I'm tired of my feet not moving.
Kick-Kick.
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