2011

What a year Pony.

I married your Dad, gave birth, and stumbled through the first three months of your life without breaking you. Stellar accomplishments, I'd say, but the truth is they are all huge gifts from the whatever you want to call it thing that is bigger than us all up there below and all around.

2011 has created me. I am the woman I always wanted to be but didn't know it. I am a wife and mother. Wow. Me. Really.

You never cease to amaze me. Beginning with the way you charmed every single person around us on the flights. The looks of dread that passed on their faces when they realized, oh shit, four hours with a baby. But no, not you, you handled it all with aplomb. Even the delays. Maybe you will love traveling as much as we do. It looks like you already do.

You have always been a super alert baby, straight out of the womb, but now there is definitely a very wonderful wheel turning behind your eyes. I can see it working away, forming new synapses and connections. You are considering things. It's fascinating to watch.

You met so many new people on this trip back to South Dakota. All your relatives. And they were so excited to meet you. It was a love fest all around. Good solid folks, Pony. Authentic, warm, loving, and kind. You are one lucky little girl to have so many people love you so much.

My only sadness for you is that they don't live closer. That none of your doting Grandma's do. We could really use them somedays.

So now we are wrapping up 2011 and saying good-bye. It's been nothing less than life- changing for me. I can't wait to see what 2012 has to offer.

Dad is going to up load the videos and photos from the trip. I promise. I'll make him if he forgets.

We love our new house. I think you do too.

And lastly- a new development of yours- you like to sit up in the middle of breastfeeding, grab my nipple with your two little fingers, stare intently at it as if it were magic, squishing and twisting it before you finally pull it into your mouth with a barbaric yelp, seemingly forgetting it's attached to my body, whereas I yelp with you.

Good times, P. Good times.

I'm more in love with you than ever. That is the truth.

Mom

Help

Pony!

Who knew finding help would be so hard? I have a really hard time vetting people, it seems. I get super excited right away and forget to ask all the right questions, like how do you feel about being on time, or showing up at all, actually?

It didn't dawn on me either how important of a decision this was going to be- this is someone you will be spending TWO ENTIRE days a week with! All 14 hours. With someone else! It actually breaks my heart a little. I hate missing a moment with you. You grow up so fast. You are discovering new things every day and it brings me such incredible joy to be a witness to your discoveries. You are like Columbus sailing and instead of finding islands, you find two hands and feet.

I wish I didn't have to work, but then again, I am grateful I get to work. I love my job. I am torn. I feel super lucky that I am able to do it a part time, it really is the best of both worlds. But still. I miss you already.

So the big dilemma was between daycare and a sitter. I hate calling her a nanny. Feels way to formal for me. Your Dad says you are too little for daycare and I tend to agree. Although I heard that Blanca's is amazing, she does story time and scheduled naps and all sorts of fun things. Then there was the potential nanny share in Atwater, with two other kids and a woman they called The Baby Whisperer. However, one of the mom's thought three was a crowd, so she vetoed that idea. Now we are back to hiring someone for you and you alone. Someone special. I hope. And I think we found her. Her name is Angela. She's pretty awesome. I am looking forward to learning from her. She was a preschool educator for 16 years, just got laid off. She has a degree in early childhood education. And she knows RIE and The Echo Center parenting styles. She had me when she said that she is there to help you reach your milestones, not to be your mother. And then there is our back-up, the lovely Xiamora. I like her too. She is bright, warm, and very ernest.

So there you have it. After pulling my hair out and even crying a little, this is where we are.

Angella and Xiamora.

Here we come.

Oh yes, and by the way, we are moving on Saturday to a new house. One I hope you will remember. It's in the hills. It is really in the hill, built in and up it. Stairs and more stairs, we shall have buns of steel, the Husoms, that is. Sara painted your room purple again. It looks beautiful. I hope we have fun there. I am nervous about the move and your routine, but then again, I am always nervous about something. I pray you don't inherit that from me. It sucks carrying all that fear around. Ready to drop it like a bag of rocks and swim for the surface.

We will be traveling soon to South Dakota to meet your relatives. It's gonna be cold. I'm not gonna lie. But they are all warm people and can't wait to meet you. And I them.

It's a busy end of the year.

Hang in there with us.

I love you.

Mom

Pony P.

You have impeccable comedic timing, and like your father, are one of the funniest people I have ever met.

I could laugh with you all day, every day, and do.

You light up a room when you lay on the floor of it.

I love you.

Mom

Things I want you to know

Pony my love,

You are 4 months old. You were fine this time, when you got your shots. Thank God for that.

You sleep with one hand behind your head. Sometimes two. It makes you look like you are resting on a chaise lounge.

When we hold you, you keep your arms open, hands outstretched, grasping the world, if you could.

You don't like certain people, and you aren't shy about letting them know. Kind of like me.

You ate your first food at your God Mum's house. It was leek and potato soup. You liked it. Then the next day your Papa and I gave you some avocado. You liked that too.

You drink milk from a sippy cup designed for a 9 month old. You like it much more than those wretched bottles we kept trying to force upon you. You must be relieved. You seem so.

You love watching people talk. It seems to fascinate you. I think it entertains you more than any jumparoo ever could.

You love to talk. You talked right over the pediatrician during our visit, the entire visit.

You are long and lean, he said.

You laughed when I massaged the bottom of your feet tonight. That has never happened before.

You were wonderful for Irene, while your Dad and I had our first date since you were born. I thought about you the whole time. I promised your Dad I would get better about letting go. We went to dinner and then to a movie. It had George Clooney in it. He's a damn fine actor.

We got the house on The Mount. I think you are going to like it there.

I love you so much. I can't even describe how much. I get it now, what it means to have family, and watching movies or hearing tragic stories about loss is too difficult for me these days. I don't ever want to lose you or your Dad. I don't know if I could survive that. I'm not that strong.

Mom

Teething Attack

Some thoughts about you

innocence

purity

angels

closest thing to god in your eyes

we stare at each other and i thank you for being here with me 

and wonder what took you so long

grabbing your own feet

pure delight

grabbing anything really

such a huge accomplishment

laughing at yourself

loving fabric

hating teething toys

smiling when you go to bed

crying when you have to take a nap

but not for long

and not really crying

anymore

you watch everything with such interest

now

always alert

always noticing

What are you thinking, Pony P?

i can't wait to hear your thoughts

a penny isn't enough

i'll give you everything i have

because you

you have "stretched my heart and made me big inside"

and for that

i will forever be grateful

more than grateful

but i don't know the word for that

it's too big 

and you are so small

i love you

ferociously

and always will

momma

I miss you Pony.
And it's only been fifteen minutes.  But I rushed home from the Americana, where I was trying to find jeans that fit, and fed you because you wouldn't take the bottle from Irene, and now I've gone again to the cafe to write and I want to cry I miss you so much.
I also wanted to cry trying on jeans.
So maybe it's a hormonal thing.
But nevertheless, leaving you is always hard.

Trina thinks its' adorable how you sing and talk.  She thinks you got it from me.  The talking part, that is.  Trina has heard me sing.  She knows better than that.  I'm not popular at Karaoke.

What I think is adorable is how your face lit up when I walked in the door today.  And the big smiles you had for Irene after you ate.

So what if we have to wait until you can drink milk from a sippy cup?  I hate to admit how much I love how much you need me.  It's a guilty little pleasure I admit to no one.

I talked your Dad into waiting until we are back from visiting his family in South Dakota over Christmas (yikes it will be COLD) and you are over 6 months old to do any formal sleep training.  Phew.

We are moving February first.  To where we do not know.  Somewhere near nature, of that I am almost 100% sure.  I am trying really hard to stay out of the results.  Not my forte.

I think I am going to go nap in my car.  I know it sounds weird, but to me, it actually sounds super quiet and small.

I'm rambling.

I love you.  I can't wait to see you in 45 minutes.

Mom

Naps and teething

I am so new to this, I apologize, dear Pony, if I don't always read your signals correctly.

Yesterday was a doozy.  You refused your first nap, that's never happened before.  I felt deflated and defeated, hence, the previous post.  However, last night you slept 8 HOURS in a row!  Who's baby did you become?

Maybe you overheard your Papa and I discussing sleep training but honey, although I know this won't keep up, but if it does, it will certainly strengthen my argument that you are super baby and don't need any training.

So if you can, do.

Last night some ladies and I were discussing SAFETY and where it comes from and I realized, my idea that if I move us to a "safe" place, like La Canada, does not guarantee safety by any means.  In fact, as a dear friend pointed out, growing up in a "safe" place like Laguna Beach only made me want to rebel and get the hell out of there as fast as my little 18 year old legs could take me. I didn't get very far, I think Los Angeles is less than 50 miles away, but it was far enough for me.

Safe isn't something outside of me, it has to be inside and reside with God.  Rely or just believe?  I have to choose rely or else I am in big trouble emotionally.

I didn't realize either until last night that the horrible morbid picture show I was living in for the first three months of your life is a symptom of postpartum whatever.  It might not be depression, but it's a version thereof.  Phew.  That really made me feel a lot less dark and messed up, I'll tell you that.  I was really worried there for a minute.  I never told anyone just how worried I was about my mental health, but it was a little scary.  I feel much better since you turned 3 months and even better now knowing, once again, my thoughts are not things and they are not me.  They just are.

I think you are teething.  I'm not sure.  But whenever you chew on a hard teething toy you kind of freak out.  You start crying and I can't figure out why.  But if you only chew on fabric and the soft squishy squares, you are alright...hmmm... don't give you hard teething toys?  Could that be the answer?  I don't know.  All I know is when it happened this morning I gave you homeopathic teething gels and solubles and distracted you with rainbows.  In fifteen minutes you were asleep.

Now you rest.

And supposedly I am meant to rest when you do.  Ha.  Who are they kidding?

I have way too many important things to do like window shop on Zulily.

I love you monkey.

xx
mom

I really want to get a tattoo today.
I don't even care what it is.
Because, I lied.
It is either/ or.  Cry it out or they run your life.  No middle ground.  No easy way out.
It is the definition of a dilemma, where neither option looks good.
And with my decision making challenges and emotional handicaps, trying to have a rational discussion about this stuff with my uber rational husband is tense, to say the least.
He's right and I am right and somewhere in the middle we two shall meet and there you will be Pony, sleeping like a baby.

Such a strange misleading idiom.

A part of me is very attracted to the simplicity and no bullshit clarity of basic sleep training.  But then another part of me hurts just thinking about it.
It's the ole head vs. heart thing.
And it's the only place where my husband and I diverge.  And this is incredibly painful for someone as innately codependent as I am.
I want to merge.
At all times.
And I know I have said this before, but Pony, THANK GOD for your father and his views, because there would absolutely be no balance without him.

You are an amazingly wonderful baby, Pony.  I can't wait to see who you become.

Every day with you is a gift.

I went to a meeting tonight and heard women talk of grief and loss.  They were so beautiful and powerful in their sorrow.  It scared me but also made me realize the preciousness of this life, and like Robin said, not just the preciousness of the life we think we want to be living, but the actual one we are living right now.

And right now, even though we aren't living where I want to live or think we should live, I am loving living with you and your Dad.

I love our mornings.  Our family mornings.  Where Papa goes to get you and we all hang out and talk about our dreams from the night before.

You, my heart, are becoming quite the chatterbox.  It's a beautiful thing.

I guess you like to talk, just like your Momma.

xx
mom

Things I wish I had known....

I was referred to this great blog written by a fellow new mom and she asked us other new moms to talk about things we wished we had done or known before embarking on this crazy ride- so here are my thoughts:


First of all, anyone who says she loves being pregnant, I am immediately suspicious of.

Secondly, the writer of the blog suggested a baby bootcamp for prospective parents.  A 'training' of sorts where you wouldn't  be allowed to give the baby back once it started screaming but had to actually deal with it ALL NIGHT LONG.  Although I think this is a brilliant idea, nothing can prepare a Mother for the physiological, emotional, and mental stress hearing her very own baby's cry does to her.  It's insane how deep this shit goes.  It is core.  I find myself shaking, sweating, crying, and huddled in the corner in the fetal position in a matter of seconds when my baby wails.  This doesn't happen to my husband because he didn't grow her in his body for 40 weeks.  That still blows my mind and doesn't really make sense.  That she lived INSIDE of me and now lives OUTSIDE of me.  I don't think she's fully come to terms with it either.  I mean, she's only 3 months.  We are just getting out of the fourth trimester.  I hear that pretty soon though she does get it and it freaks her the fuck out.  Looking forward to that.

Which brings me to one of the biggest things I wish we'd done that we didn't-  HAD A DISCUSSION about how we would respond, as a team, to her cries.  I guess if you aren't co-parenting it isn't an issue, but if you are, it's not the time to argue about it when you have a screaming infant in your arms, because primarily your hormones are raging and every cell of your being is commanding you to do whatever it takes to soothe the baby and anyone who suggests otherwise is an immediate threat and traitor.  And these little people are SHARP.  They KNOW what  you are feeling even if you don't.  And no matter how hard you might try to hide it, they smell fear and anxiety like an animal and will respond accordingly.  I regret those moments the most.  It took us a while but we are now a well oiled co-parenting machine, and getting there took a lot of listening and talking and compromising on both our parts, but we are better parents because of it.

The writer of the blog mentioned the beating her vagina took and how intense the recovery was.  I didn't have that experience.  I was forewarned how scary pooping would be at first, which was true.  But my vagina actually shrunk.  In fact, if I'd known this would happen, I would have had a child sooner.  It's been sort of a blessing for me.  I guess every vagina is different.  Who knew?

What I didn't take seriously enough was how traumatic the birthing was for my baby.  We were induced and she endured a good 14 hours of hard ass contractions with no break.  I was able to get an epidural, which saved me from a cesarean, I believe, but my daughter had nothing.  Her head was pounding against my cervix the entire time. Although it was the best thing I have ever done for my daughter, going to the Osteopathic doctor, I wish I'd taken her sooner.  She didn't have to endure, again, three months of irritability, uncomfortability, and spitting up ferociously.  All of which disappeared once we saw the lovely Dr. Nevins.  Next birth, that woman is at our house the next day.

Another thing- a big thing- is I really wish someone had given me the permission to stay home the first two months and do absolutely nothing but bond with my baby.  I am sure people did tell me that, but I didn't hear it the way I needed to and I kept trying to do too much.  I wish I hadn't.  And another thing- everyone can wait to see the damn baby.  I didn't need to host a bunch of meet and greets with well meaning friends who didn't seem to know when to leave early enough.  No fault of their own.  It was all mine.  I was terrified to ask for what I needed.  Mainly because I didn't even know I could need or want that kind of solitude.  But it's okay to cave.  Second baby, you won't see me for awhile, I promise.

The writer talks about getting help.  YES.  HELP ME PLEASE should of been the easiest words out of my mouth, but silly little me was too stubborn to say them.  Although, I have to say, we never used our doula in the hospital and I feel pretty good about how my husband and I handled those first few weeks alone, in shock, two deer in the headlights, two ships passing in the night.  We did it.  And it was incredibly bonding.  Because our daughter didn't do much those first few weeks.  It was when she began The Witching Hour that we lost our shit.  That was when we needed help and didn't ask for it.  That was when we needed the village.  We have no village.  No family around.  It was like a giant wave of relief when my Mom finally came up to stay with us.  We both had no idea help could be so good.  We want help now.  We crave it.  In fact, today is the first day that Pony has been with  her new BFF, Irene, for the entire day.  On Thursdays they are going to hang out together playing games and learning Spanish.  And on Thursdays now I am going to teach, and write, and run errands and whatever the hell I want to do.

I used to be militant about no other woman raising my child, but I have to tell you, as hard and strange as it was to watch her walk out the door with my daughter in the stroller and for me to leave the house alone, it is kind of miraculous at the same time.  I couldn't do it every day of the week, but one day, one day feels like a mini vacation and I am super grateful and recharged.  And it kind of surprised me, but I did vet this woman thoroughly and I heard it happens with her, my little angel seems to LOVE her already.   I went home to nurse before going to write and Pony was all smiles and giggles.  Amazing.

HELP IS GOOD.

The writer recommends acknowledging loss and grieving it.  Although this wasn't my experience, I have heard of this.  I don't know if it is because my husband and I have been sober for so long, but what we lost we don't miss.  We both wanted a new paradigm in our lives and were totally excited for it.  Although it's been mind blowingly more challenging than we ever could of realized, it was more about acknowledging CHANGE than grieving loss for me.  I always wanted to live in the moment and this baby keeps me so present, reveling in a smile, a giggle, a coo.  No Self-Help book can do that to you.  If you really want to be here now, just look into your sweet child's eyes.  It'll pull you back every time.

Parenting for me is like one never ending spiritual lesson after another that never lets up- day or night. It's relentless and demanding and ever so rewarding.  Because at the end of the day, I haven't thought about myself half as much as I used to and that, to me, is a gift. Like a dear friend once said- Parenting is the most spiritual thing you will ever do.  That is, if you accept the challenge as such.  Perception is everything.  Change your perception and you change your life.

Lastly, I completely agree with the writer about wishing I had been more forewarned about Parenting Philosophies and what they really are.  Just philosophies that either help or hinder.  There are amazing things about the entire spectrum of parenting that make perfect sense to me and I wish I'd spent less time reading about them and more time meditating and being quiet before this baby was born.  Because your own particular parenting style I think evolves whether you want it to or not.  Everyone is making concessions that either nip something in the bud or kick the can farther down the road, but in the end you have to find what works for you and your family.  Like vaginas, they are all different.  I resented my husband slightly at first because he was very adamant that we not have the Family Bed and you know what, 3 months later we have a peaceful little sleeper in her own bed in her own room and I have a husband I can snuggle with in the morning while we listen to her coo and giggle to herself.  It's pretty special and intimate and works 100% for us.  And we never sleep trained or let her cry it out for hours on end.  We did a very gradual gentle approach that we didn't even know we were doing.  It just began with a co-sleeper on the bed, which became a bassinet next to the bed, then the bassinet was in her room for day time naps, and finally it became the landing pad for nighttime sleep at around 3 months and now it's her crib.  So it doesn't necessarily have to be either or.  There can be a middle road.  It does involve crying however, but how much is up to you.

It's so funny because at the end of her post the woman says the only thing she would have done differently would have been to hire a doula and that is the one thing I would have not done.  I would have taken the money we spent on our doula and spent it on another baby moon, or another movie, or another dinner.  That is time well spent.  Not sleeping.  That you can't have memories of.  But holding hands and watching a quiet beautiful sunrise while you are pregnant with life, that is priceless.

Decisions

I went for a walk today with a new dear friend and we talked about this very thing- decisions.

Why are they so damn hard to make?   At least for me they are.  And you'd think it would only be decisions that really mattered, that had serious life consequences- like changing your entire trajectory- but no, they can be as simple as 'would you like vanilla or chocolate' and my heart starts pounding and my head racing exploring in nanoseconds the possible repercussions of each until I land, hesitantly on one.

Vanilla.

Always.

I don't even like chocolate things except real dark chocolate yet I still sweat a little before I decide.

Decide.  Decisions.

Is it a Pisces thing?  A commitment thing?  A pathological thing?

Fear of....

Making the WRONG decision.

Like that would kill you.  Well, in some cases I guess it could.  But I have read or heard it said by much bigger spiritual giants than I will ever be that there are no WRONG decisions.  Huh.

I certainly can look back on my life and see some serious BAD decisions I have made.  Like...Sorry Pony, I better not write any of those stories here.  Not yet.  Not till you are ole enough to understand.

Suffice to say, as I look back on my life and ponder this, were any of those BAD decisions WRONG.  Because if I hadn't made all of them, I might not of ended up where I am today, of which everything feels so RIGHT.  And it's never felt RIGHT before.

So RIGHT vs. WRONG?

If there really is no R vs. W and it's all just an erroneous judgment, still, I ask, how do you decide what to do?  If it doesn't really matter which decision you make, if you really are okay no matter what, why decide at all?  Maybe the idea that WE make the decision at all is erroneous.  Maybe we are being lulled into thinking we made the decision when it was something bigger than us all along and then wouldn't it make more sense to stop the fight the back and forth the angst and the pain and just be led?  But it is so hard to trust when we so badly want to know that everything will be okay in the end.

It's fear of the big unknown.  And it is a terrifying fear.  It's not cute or funny at all.

Becoming a new mom I am faced with so many decisions about you Pony.  And it is really really hard for me, because I so want to do it RIGHT.  Whatever that is.  I don't even know.  And it keeps changing, this RIGHT way of parenting.  Like the article my friend gave me, this yardstick we use to judge ourselves as parents does more to harm us than to help us.

I just want to sit back and enjoy being your Mom Pony and pray that I make GOOD decisions for you, based on the highest good for you, our family, and mankind.  (that mankind part sounded a bit dramatic but I'm keeping it because things in 3's are more poetic sounding)

I watch other people make decisions with ease, and I envy them.  Maybe someday I will too.  But I really resonate with people who struggle with them, who see both, all, and every side and realize even if there are no WRONG decisions, there certainly are some seriously painful and difficult ones where neither decision feels very good.  And that is life Pony.   You will have to make those someday.  I just hope I can be there for you, as a sounding board, and a friend.  Because sometimes that is all it takes to help you make a decision.  Suddenly the light goes on and you hear in your own words that the decision has already been made.  Now you just need to trust it.

I always want someone to decide for me, like your Dad.  He's good at making decisions.  But that's one of the reasons I love him so much and why he's so good for me.  He lights a little fire under my ass and doesn't get mad at me when I change my mind...a thousand times.

See, there are times when I can make a decision.  But then I second guess myself and that is when the games begin.  But here is something I think I am realizing as I write this rambling long strange blog, that the first decision, instinctively, that comes up, the one that wants to escape my lips before I've had to the time to 'think' about it, that is usually, if not always, the best decision for me.  Because it's a heart thing and not a head thing.

Aha.

Get out of your head Pony, and into your heart.  And you will always know exactly what to do.

I forget.

That is why I write, to remember.

I love you P.

xx
Mom

Happy Halloween!

I had no idea how hard it was to write in 10 minute blocks spread out over days and weeks, sometimes.  It challenges the whole 'flow' notion of writing.  I can't get into any groove, once I do, I have to jump up and attend to the baby. (that's you, peanut)  And when I finally sit back down all my thoughts about whatever I was riffing on have changed.  I have tons of unfinished blogs out there in the blog ether, cold and lonely, waiting for a home they'll never find.

Oh well.

You passed out tonight at 5:30pm.  Not sure if that means you'll stay asleep, but I couldn't keep you up any longer.  I am trying though because I hear when daylight savings ends this weekend, the whole world could turn upside down as you, my dear, don't tell time yet.  Ha.

We have a new person in our lives, P.  Her name is Irene.  We met her today.  She is going to be playing with you on Thursdays so I can go teach and play myself for a little bit. You seemed to like her.  She has very sweet, kind energy and obviously LOVES babies and children, you can tell.  She wanted to hold you right away.  How could she not?  You are too adorable for words.  Seriously kid, you kill me with your cuteness.  I hope this works out.  Go gentle on her this Thursday and for the love of God, child, please take the bottle.

It's 6pm and I hear you waking up already.

See what I mean?

If I leave this blog for later, I'll never get to it.  I have to publish this, this meager little tidbit, and begin anew.


Real quick though- one of the people that lived her before us told Papa that there were TONS of tricker treaters in this neighborhood.

There was one.

And he was dressed up like the UPS guy.

Glad I bought 40 dollars worth of crappy candy.

We are moving.

In March.

It's all I want for my birthday.


Love,

Mom

Where's Pony?

Where's Pony?

Where's Pony?

This is a new game I've started with your Dad while he's at work.

Can you find yourself in this photo?

Laughter with a side of humble pie

You laughed for the first time yesterday while your Papa gave you a giant zzzrrrbbrrt on your belly.

It made me fear death.

And I have never feared death before.  I've always prided myself on my fearlessness which now I know was not bravery but ambivalence.

Because I have never loved anything or anyone like I love you and your Dad.  It has made me feel incredibly mortal.

As I rocked you gently in my arms tonight I thought of your little laugh and realized how I never wanted to leave you.  It scared me how much I care about this family.  Because the stakes are so high.  I painfully realized how careless I have been my whole life, with my life.

No wonder I got into so many dangerous situations with people, places, and things.  It wasn't that I thought I was invincible and nothing truly bad would ever happen to me, I just didn't care so much if it did.

Well, now I do care.  I care very much.  And it humbles me.

I am so grateful for this precious life that I get to share with you and your Dad.  It really is a gift, every single moment.  Even when you scream in my face and I haven't a damn clue what you are crying about.

That right there is a whole other sort of fear.

I love you.  This is you in your Bumba in the kitchen yesterday.

And this was a little game I played with your Dad today, it was called, Where is Baby?

I can't stop smiling looking at this photo because you look so sweet sitting there with your little hands in your lap, like a little school kid waiting for your lesson.

Oh man.

Put a fork in me because I am done.

Love
Mom

My Insanity grows with you

I tried to go to bed last night at 9:30 with your Dad, who was in the midst of quitting caffeine and losing steam rapidly.

This is what my brain did to me:

It's early.  Too early to dream feed.  Should I just forget it then?  Or should I wait until 10pm and feed her then?  Maybe I should just forget it all together for tonight?  
Oh shit.  
But consistency.  Consistency is super important.
It is not my strength.  I need to be more consistent.
Okay.
I'll feed her at 10pm.
What was that?  Did she just make a sound?  Maybe she's hungry now?  I don't want her to wake up too much!  I'm supposed to dream feed her BEFORE she wakes up....oh shit.


I get up and check on you.  You are sleeping soundly.  I go back to bed.


Okay.  Relax.  Take a few deep breaths.  
Why do I have such bad gas tonight?  I hope Tim didn't' just hear that.  I'll keep it under the covers.
It's 9:45 now.  15 minutes and I'll feed her.  
Is that a skunk outside or was that me?  Wow.
I hate waking her up.  They say never to wake a sleeping baby.  It's selfish of me to dream feed her.  I'm only doing it for me.  I shouldn't do it.  Fuck it.  I'm not doing it.  
What was that?  


I get up and check on you.  You are sleeping soundly.  I go back to bed.

It's 10pm now.  If I'm gonna feed her I should do it now.  Now.  
Now I am tired.  I want to sleep. I'll just go to sleep now.


I can't sleep.  I have phlegm in my throat and I think I have to pee again.
I love Tim so much.  I am so lucky.  I'm gonna stare at him for a minute.  He's so handsome.  We should try to make Second Baby now.
I wonder what Second Baby will look like...
Are we out of our minds to even be thinking about a second baby so soon?
La Canada is really great.  I had no idea how great.  I think I sounded really racist in my last blog.  I didn't mean to. I'm just tired of the barrio.  I need to practice more unconditional love for all living things.  
I really should meditate more consistently.
Consistency.
Oh shit.
I better go feed her.


I got out of bed and walked into your room.  Even in the darkness lit by a single amber nightlight I could see your gummy smile goofing up at me and I wanted to remember this shit forever.

I never want to forget the smallness of you.

They were all right about 3 months though.  Each day it becomes more and more clear.  You are a baby now.  A little baby person with a total quirky little sparkling personality slowly emerging like Spring after a hard winter.  A little bud blooms here, then there, then sure enough you'll be a whole field of flowers.

By the way- suddenly after a rough night of sleep you decided you LOVED tummy time.

Here are the photos to prove it.  Even naked...

First thing in the morning...

I love you.  Mom.

We made it!

Pony my dear- you are 3 months big today!!!!!

And... you are still intact. You have everything you came with. All the parts are there.  I can't believe it.  Big sigh of relief.  We celebrated by driving all the way to Marina Del Rey so you could meet your Godfather, Dustin, for the very first time.  That was pretty special.  Plus we stayed for dinner, like big 3 month people do.  You were amazing.  You fell asleep on my shoulder before dessert so I laid you down on a couch in the other room.  When I walked away you were sleeping soundly. I left the door ajar. After two bites of ice cream I glanced your way and there you were, staring at me with your legs in the air.  You were so peaceful and calm I laughed and rushed over to kiss you.  When I looked down you looked up and gave me one of your big gummy grins.  I swoon at times like this.

They were right, about just getting to 90 days.  It is amazing the corners you keep turning every day.  Especially since we saw the osteopathic doctor (?? I am way too tired to look that up right now and make sure it is correct.)  Whatever she was, she was magic.  She touched your head and you became a new baby.  I saw you experience peace and serenity.  It has only enhanced what was already there.

You are becoming so fun, Pony.  I look forward to the mornings with you so much.  Papa says it's like Christmas for me when I open my eyes around 7:30 and ask, because you still haven't made a sound, "Shall I go get her?" and he says, "Hell yes, go get her!" and I jump up, like a kid that needed permission to open her first present, tip-toe up to your door, and peak in on you in your new big girl crib.  There you are, looking around peacefully, sucking on a finger or two, with your legs in the air.  I have no idea how long you have been like that but I watch you for a little while, loving your buddha like mindfulness, before I enter and look down at your beautiful little face.  And that is when you do it, every single time, you destroy me with your giant goofy smiles.  I have to lean in and nuzzle your neck, armpit, and thighs before I scoop you up and take you into our bed.  Then it's family time.  Because that is what we are now Pony, a family.

I had a funny revelation the other day about what how much a baby can change you.  When we were still living in Echo Park and I was pregnant with you someone asked me if we would ever live in South Pasadena.  I was horrified and said, "Hell no, South Pasadena is way too 'white' and conservative for me." Then we moved to Highland Park and you were born.  When I was telling Uncle Strider of my new obsession with La Canada he said, "Of course you love it there, it's the Laguna Beach of the San Gabriel Valley."  And it made sense why I felt at home, it was filled with white conservative wealthy republicans and every fiber in my being screamed, home-safe, decent public school system home.  I would give my left nut (if I had one) to give you the kind of upbringing I had.  It was safe and safe sounds really good right about now.

I love you.  I am so proud of you.  And of me.  We did it.  We made it.  I made it.  I can't believe it.  I'm still standing.

So much more to go...

I look forward to every single minute of it all.


Mom

Ouch.

I just read the saddest NY times article about a Mom whose son has Tray-Sachs disease.  I'm too heartbroken to go into the details of what that means, suffice to say, it made me really think and wonder about how to be the best parent I can be for today, for now, and to stop obsessing over the future.

If I only had a limited time with you, how would I want to spend it?

I can't even finish this post right now.  I don't think I can read anymore articles.  I've stopped watching the news.

I need a nap.

The Wheels Have Come Off

I could never be a single Mom.  No way.  No how.

We are lost without our rudder.  Your Dad has been in New York for work for a few days and you, Pony, have taken over.  It's a baby coup. I'll admit it, you run this household, that much is perfectly clear.  Who knew such a little thing, a little naked thing at the moment (you refused clothing this morning) could wield such power over me.  I am like a reed in the river without your Papa around.

You've discovered a new grunting sound it seems, so dainty, my love.  And a new found appreciation for 4am.

Last night for some strange reason you woke up at 4am ready to party.  You've never done that before.  I didn't know what to do so I took you into our bed where after 10 minutes of 'talking' to me, you proceeded to projectile vomit all over the bed.  Hence, the next photo of you 'helping' me make the bed.

And now today, suddenly, you've decided that you don't need naps anymore.  Nope. Not your thing, no matter what I do.

It's days like this that a Hi-Ball sounds really awesome.  Not that I even know what a Hi-Ball is but I think it has whiskey and ice in it and that is all that matters.

I can see why some Mom's get fat.  I mean, assuming they aren't drinking during the day (which is what I'd be doing if I was still drinking so hence, why I don't drink anymore) a sugary fatty snack makes a lot of sense.  In fact, I just ate 3 Mexican wedding cookies for lunch and it seemed perfectly reasonable to do so.  The idea of pulling out any pots and pans while I have you strapped on me, forcing you to nap, is ridiculous and we are out of anything else, so... a sugary fatty lunch it was.  And I rationalized it by saying how hard it's been and how much I deserved it.  I get it now.  I shall no longer judge overweight moms.  I probably shouldn't judge anyone really.  Seriously.  Not a good role model if I do.

You slept like this for almost 2 hours.  What a miracle.  And then I took us for a walk.  And judging by the looks on your face in both these pictures, I'm not sure you particularly enjoy the Bob yet.

maybe it's a strap thing because you like to let loose in the car seat as well

but I hear most babies do that so I guess it's okay

Wow.

Being a mom is seriously the most improvisational, intensely creative, and ridiculously riddling thing I have ever done.  Nothing can prepare you for your first child. Nothing.

It's like having to solve the game Clue with you a hundred times a day.  Your diaper is dry, you've been fed, it's not your sleepy time, what the hell could it be?  Was it the spinach that I ate in the kitchen over four hours ago with the maid from Guatemala?  No.  Merde!  Try again....

Like tonight, I did the usual lack of routine we've gotten into a groove with and you decided to switch things up on me.  You decided that tonight, for no apparent reason, you would prefer NO rocking, bouncing, or swaying to any lullabies or sound at all.  In fact, you preferred to just be left alone to cry for about two minutes in your bassinet and then you went to sleep.  For.  An.  Hour.  Now you are asleep again, with a few minutes of rocking.  Just keeping me on my toes, I see....keeping it fresh and real.  I appreciate that Pony.  I hate getting stuck in a rut myself.  Good to break things up a bit. Keep em guessing I always say!!  And boy do you keep me guessing.

Please Pony, please, for the love of God, no raves at 4am tonight.  

Or else your Dad might come home to find me crying softly in the corner with the pacifier(that you hate) in my mouth.

Love,

Mom

I Love my Husband

He took the morning shift and I slept in 2 hours this gorgeous Sunday.  2 hours!! And when I woke up he had already put her down for her morning nap.  I don't want to brag but... I am.  I have a good one.  And he does this kind of thing all the time.  Last night too- out of the blue he gave me a foot rub.  Who does that?  He does.  I'm not used to so much thoughtful considerate kindness in my relationships.  It humbles me and makes me want to be a better wife and mother every day.

Heck, a better person.

I want to thank his mother for doing such a great job with him, and I have, because it's pretty remarkable to me who he is on a daily basis.  And it made me think as I was having a conversation with Wendy yesterday about parenting, about nature vs. nurture.  Wendy was telling me how her 26 year old daughter didn't want to settle for a job she didn't think was paying her enough so she went out and got a better one.  Both Wendy and I were impressed with her hutzpah and wondered if that was taught or innate.  Do we really 'make or break' these little people?  Wendy was so young when she had her, and she didn't do RIE, or The Echo Center Parenting classes, she did what she did instinctively.  And she made mistakes, admittedly so, but her daughter turned out wonderful, anyone would agree.

So maybe I could lighten up just a little bit and start to enjoy the ride?

And by the way, it's been a few days since I began this post, and yes, I still love my husband.

Even though co-parenting is probably the hardest thing we'll ever do together, like my friend Sarah said, if you can negotiate this, you can negotiate anything.  And we negotiate, a lot.

But it's good for me.  I am learning that disagreeing doesn't mean being abandoned.  That is kind of huge for me.

So Pony my love,

We've figured another thing out about you that might be as big as your diapers being too small, you DO NOT LIKE ANY STIMULATION past 5pm.  Pretty much.  Basically all the 'bedtime routine' stuff we were doing to you, like the bath, massage, book reading, etc...was making you nuts.  Last night was the turning point when you lost it after all of the above.  Your poor Papa was in charge of bathing you and putting you to sleep and he was beside himself.  You went to a 10.  It took awhile for me to soothe you after that but it was good in the fact that we both realized that something we were doing could quite possibly be off.  So instead of the books, again, we turned to you.  What did you want?  And tonight it seems,very little.  So we'll see how this goes and keep tuning into you, again and again.

I've also fallen in love with La Canada!  Who knew such a place existed in Los Angeles?  I met Leigh and Tor at Descanso Gardens yesterday for a walk, and was enamored of the neighborhood surrounding it.  What a gem!  It felt woodsy and safe.  Lots of nature.  Of course it's expensive to live there and it's mostly rich white folks but I think I've lived in Highland Park enough to feel...integrated.  Although I had this thought driving home today, that all the sex offenders that live in our neighborhood (I checked the website) probably don't prey around here.  I imagine that La Canada is the perfect place for them to troll.  I mean, they wouldn't want to shit where they eat, right?  Hmm... maybe I think too much?

And lastly I can't tell you how grateful I am for all the amazing women having you has brought into my life.  I get to hang out with wonderful generous hilarious moms like Betsy, Marie, and Leigh.  (That rhymed)  and go on walks with moms to be like Rosa.  She is doing a home birth!  I LOVE it.  I can't wait to meet her little one.  This shit is so much fun, Pony.  The day you start talking and playing with Mirth, Tor, Kasper and Rosa's yet to be, will be a good day.

We are checking out a chiropractor for your neck, thanks to Rosa.  And I'll let you know how that goes.

I love you even though you've made me go in there and soothe you at least four times so far this night, and it's only been 2 hours.

I am definitely earning my keep.

I love you infinitely,

Mom

and p.s.  I think I might even love your Daddy more now.  He's certainly the one for me.  He made us beets, chinese broccoli, and a yam for dinner.  I needed that.  I also really need to go to bed.  You are in the habit of waking up a lot right now.  You must be growing.  I think you are.

Chatting with Clarice the Cow

Dear Pony,

A conversation between you and Clarice the Cow.

Mom and Dad

Weeks 1 - 11

Hello Sweet Pea,

Daddy here. I had the idea to put photos from each of your first 11 weeks of life here for you to see. Plus I added one from your birthday. - Love Daddy

Day Number 1

Week Number 1

Week Number 2

Week Number 3

Week Number 4

Week Number 5

Week Number 6

Week Number 7

Week Number 8

Week Number Nine

Week Number 10

Week Number 11

Vaccines suck ass

This has by far been the hardest day with you yet.

I'm sitting here with you in your sleepy wrap against my body while I cry my eyes out writing this post.

I was not prepared.  I had no idea.  No one warned me.  Who's job is that?  They are fired.

I thought I was so tough because I didn't cry when you got your shots.  You seemed okay.  You screamed a little but once I picked you up you were okay.

It wasn't until we were on the way home that Betsy, who interestingly enough was driving to get Mirth her 6 month old shots, said that she gives her baby aspirin in the office before the shots so they already have a little buffer.

Uh oh.

I gave you the baby aspirin as soon as we got home.  You spit it out.  I tried again, you spit most of that one out.  I gave up because I didn't want to overdose you and you seemed fine.  We played games and chatted for almost an hour.  You took a nap and then I laid you down in the jungle so you could hunt monkeys.  You were cooing and gurgling while I joked with your Dad and Sarah about how nothing seemed to phase you when suddenly, the shit hit the fan.

You let out a high pitched wail the likes of which I've never heard before.  It was the kind of scream that made my heart hurt and my guts ache.  And you kept screaming.  You were in so much pain and I didn't know what to do to help you so I just held you and called the doctor.  They said to try the aspirin again.  That you had probably finally reached your threshold and that was why you were screaming, but that the aspirin should work in 20-30 minutes. So I did.  You threw it up along with all your lunch milk all over me in the kitchen. I tried again, desperate to give you some relief.  You threw that up all over me in your bedroom.  Then I called again.  "Stop giving aspirin" she said " it obviously doesn't agree with her.  Just soothe her as best you can.  She's probably over tired now anyway.  Put cold compresses on her legs where the shots were or put her in a tepid bath, which she'll probably hate.  Call if it gets any worse and bring her in."

That's it?  I thought.

You and I were down to pants and a diaper only by this point which I think was actually better because we were skin to skin and that seemed to calm you down a little bit.  We smelled like puke though.  So even though your eyes were closed I had to put you down to wash us both off a bit.  Then you screamed again. So I grabbed the sleepy wrap and put it on as fast as I could.  Then I put you in it.  And that is where you have been ever since.

Now I can't stop crying.  Not so tough anymore, am I?

I would give anything to trade places with you and feel the pain for you.

That is probably why I should go to Alanon.  Pretty co-dependent of me, isn't it?  But I think you know what I mean.  To see you in so much pain and to feel so helpless is one of the hardest things I have ever gone through in my life so far.

I don't know if I can do this.  I'm not strong enough.  I can't stop crying right now.  What a wuss I am!

I've just never felt so vulnerable, and little, and afraid.  I want to soothe you and be strong for you.  It took everything I had to be calm for you.  I guess the dam broke now that you are asleep and I can be weak.

This too shall pass.

It always does.

I'm going to play classical music on the stereo and read a spiritual book to pass the time right now, hopefully that will soothe me.

I'll keep you posted.  See what the rest of the day has in store of for us.

At 5pm you woke up.  I gave you tylenol in tiny doses making sure you swallowed it.  Then I gave you a tepid bath which you hated.  Finally I breastfed you and you smiled.  All suggestions were via Betsy, the real baby whisperer.

You played with your Papa and I until 7pm when you crashed, hard.

Now it's 10pm and you are still out.  But you are crunched up against your bassinet and your head is turned the wrong way and I really want to pull you down and turn your head so it's not on the flat spot but I also feel like I should leave you alone.

Or should I wake you up and feed you and give you tylenol before I go to bed so you don't wake up starving and hurting later?  That's assuming you would.  Or is it more humane to let you sleep?

This is my dilemma these days.

To wake a sleeping baby or not to wake?

That is the question.

for the record- Papa wants me to wake you.

I love you.

Mom

For tomorrow-

Which when I post this will be today.

Okay- update.

You freaked out again tonight at the same time as last night for no apparent reason this time as I was all about stop, look, and listen.  So maybe I'm still in the running for Mom of the Year?

I tried feeding you but you didn't want the boob, which was kind of odd since you hadn't eaten in almost 4 hours- so not like you.  So I gave you a massage, which you really seemed to enjoy. In fact, I think we both had a pretty great time then.  You have definitely entered a whole new phase of chatting.  It's kind of amazing.

You got fussy after the massage, so I put you in your pi's, tried to feed you again, but hell no- you wouldn't have any of it.  So I rocked you in all sorts of new and interesting positions until we took an art tour around the house and into your room.  We sat in your rocking chair and I rocked you in  my arms until you were calm enough to try eating again.  Then you ate, then you passed out.  Now you sleep.  So who knows.  Maybe you have a little bit of my cold?  Maybe you had a growth spurt?  Maybe you had some gas?

I really wish I spoke Baby.

Which brings me to the Dunston Baby Language DVD I finally watched.  A little late, but better than never, I suppose.  It was really interesting and I highly recommend it.  Apparently it goes something like this- I only watched the first DVD so I only have 3 sounds so far-  but:

Neh= hungry
Ow= tired
Eh= burp me

I had no idea that this whole time you have been mostly BEGGING me to burp you!  It's a game changer for sure.  Last night in your bassinet you woke up saying Eh.  So I picked you up and walked you around for a little bit until you burped then you went straight back to sleep.  WTF???  Wish I'd watched this sooner.  I don't think you say Neh though when you are hungry.  It's kind of hard to tell.  Dad says he can tell the difference between net and eh.  I can't. I'm also terrible with foreigners.  Can't tell what the heck they are saying half the time.  I really sounded like a racist just there.  I'm not.  Don't worry.  I'm just kind of stupid sometimes and don't listen very well.

Details can sometimes allude me, it's the big picture I'm after.

Nama Jill says you are a sensitive baby.  That you startle easily and don't like bright lights or loud sounds.  Well, I don't like bright lights or loud sounds so I guess you got that from me.  And unfortunately I am a little bit jumpy.  I startle easily.  Which wasn't so great when I had the brilliant idea to start a game of scaring each other at work.  I lost.  Obviously.

Although I love being with you and watching you discover things like your hands, feet, and voice, I also miss work sometimes.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  I feel really lucky that I am still able to run two writing programs this Fall.  One for the middle school Foster Kids and one for the Elementary kids.  The foster kids group started last week and this story I am about to tell you is one of the reasons I love my job so much.  You can't make shit up this good.

In the first sessions I have with kids I usually break the ice with a round of "tell a story about your name."  It's a fantastic way to get to know people in a very short amount of time.  What people tend to say says a lot about them.  We were going around the circle when we got to this very special kid named Marcus that I adore.  When we play the "who would you adopt if you could" game, I always pick him.  He was in our group last semester.  There is something super sweet, innocent, and slightly odd about him that speaks to my heart. He has a very unique cadence of speech and thought, he takes long pauses while you watch him work it out before putting it out.  Today he paused, and began with "I am named after my Mother's brother who died while sleepwalking."  Wow, I thought.  How sad.  He continued.  "They were camping in the Grand Canyon and he woke up one night and they never found his body."  Oh my.  The room was silent.  Every eye was upon Marcus who looked as if he was about to cry.  I was scrambling for the perfect segue to lighten the mood when suddenly he looked up and blurted out with gusto "But my Mom was going to name me Jorge (pronounced horhay- even though he's not latino) !"  The room burst out laughing, how could we not? It was one of the most brilliant pieces of comedy performed perfectly I have ever seen. And it was 100% authentic.  See why I love my job?  I mean, I get to do this.  I GET to.

Tomorrow morning you get your first round of vaccines.  We've thought it over carefully and feel this is the best decision.  I can't say I'm not nervous though.  I'll probably cry with you.

Goddamn no one warned me having children could hurt so much.

Love.

Mom

Hands make the best mobiles.

Yes, they do.

Pony,

I really don't think I am going to win any mothering awards this week.  I am sick.  I hate being sick.  And in my sickness I made the cardinal mom mistake,  I didn't stop, look, and listen to you when you were telling me something very important and instead went ahead with my own agenda.  I was convinced you wanted to take a bath with me when in fact you were way overtired and overstimulated as it was and you expressed that perfectly.  I ignored you because I wanted to bathe with you so badly and it had gone so well the night before.  But the night before you were napped and happy.  Last night you were not.  Needless to say, after the bath and the fan and the bright lights you were taken over the edge as I tried to get you ready for bed.  It took about 10 minutes holding you in different positions till you calmed down enough to bury your face in my neck and take a breather.  It's funny, I don't mind you freaking out if you are in my arms but in another room, I can't take it.

However, the sweetest thing did occur as a result.  You spent a good 5 minutes afterwards telling me exactly how you felt.  It was by far the longest conversation we have ever had.  You were so clear and concise.  You didn't mince words, not even once.  I was super impressed with your vocabulary (already) and touched that you would share so much with me, that you trusted me enough now to tell me how you really feel.  I hope I can always be that person for you.  The one you know you can always be yourself with because I will never judge you for having big emotions.  They don't scare me anymore. I want to be that safe harbor for you.  I didn't have that.  It's really important, I think.

How did you get to be so beautiful??  I could stare at you all day, and I do.  I hope it doesn't weird you out too much.  I'm a little obsessed with the perfectness of you.  Even your poop smells delicious!  Much better than my farts, just ask Dad.

It totally trips me out that you came from me.  I guess that's why none of your bodily fluids freak me out, because they were created foremost inside of me, so you are a part of me, really.  Whoa.  Twilight zone.  I still can't wrap my head around it.  All babies are a miracle to me and the best argument for God.

Your Papa and I realized something last night- how we really are the yin and yang of parenting ( I imagine most are) but as I see soothing you to sleep as something immensely gratifying and rewarding he sees you soothing yourself to sleep in exactly the same way.  I imagine this is why you picked us, because if it was left up to me you might never learn independence and if it were left up to him you might never learn dependence as a good thing.  So together, we try to meet in the middle.  Yin yang.  Balance.  Moderation.  The middle road. Too much of a good thing is still too much.

Nama Jill left today, it was really nice having her here.  I miss a village.  We need a village.  Huts and hunting.  I yearn for simpler times.

This was written by Elizabeth Gilbert.  It's pretty fabulous although after reading it I couldn't help but feel inadequate compared to her.

Five books? Really?  Humph.  I guess I kind of missed the whole message.  Or maybe it's because I've picked myself up from falling down I've made it into an art form of sorts.  I am the first to screw up boldly and badly.  And the first to admit it.

I have never been more proud than I am proud of being your Mom, Pony.

Nothing else in the world, no published book, no starring role could ever compare to what I feel when I look at you.

Big mad divine love,

Mom

I forget

Everything...

Every time I walk away from writing one of these I think of all the clever witty things I could of said and done.

Which is a lot like my life, actually.

The only times I seem to be quick witted are when I have been drunk out of my mind or feeling extremely passive aggressive.  Then I just come off as bitchy.

Enough about me...

Pony!!

Let's celebrate.

We found a pediatrician we really like!

His name is Dr. Bursch and he's with Glendale Pediatrics. He's the kind of person you'd like to hang out with at a bar-b-que.

I really liked the way he talked to you and told you what he was going to do.  He was gentle and kind and a father himself.  That, I think is super important.  

You are two months old!  I can't believe it.  Healthy and happy, he said.  You weigh 11 pounds and are 23 inches long.  You are in the 50th percentile, which means that half the babies are taller or shorter and half weight more or less.  You are perfect to me.

Two things did come up though which we have to address right away.  

First of all- you  have a slight flat spot on the right side of your head! I couldn't believe it and I feel like crying just thinking about it even though Dr. Bursch didn't think it was such a big deal.  It means that you were sleeping too much on one side of your head.  And when I got home I looked at all the sleeping photos of you and noticed all of them faced the same direction.  Dammit!!  Why doesn't anyone warn you about this?  I didn't even think about it.  I knew about the flat thing on the back of the head so I made sure to keep you moving around but I never considered the sides.  Ugh.  Now we are doing neck stretching exercises with you which you hate, of course, and making sure you sleep on the other side.  I really regret not knowing this sooner but your Papa doesn't think it's such a big deal either so I am most likely over-reacting...but still...

And secondly- VACCINATIONS.

We didn't realize that you were meant to get your first round of them at that appointment.  Dr. Bursch must think we are idiots but seriously, I never thought it would come up so soon.  We had planned on doing all the research but thought we had way more time.  We don't, it seems.  So, we told him we'd talk about it and let him know.  

We talked about it and read about it and it seems that really the smartest way to go is to just go ahead and get them on the regular schedule.  It makes the most sense in the long run.  Although neither options feel that great to me over all.  We have a friend who never vaccinated his twin daughters but they live in the woods in Germany.  Seriously.  This is Los Angeles.  And we live in Highland Park.  It's no Malibu.

So next week you are getting your first shots. Ugh.  I kind of hate this.

Lastly,  you've really started chatting us up like a little person full of thoughts and ideas.  It's so fun communicating with you. After you eat I lay you face down on my tummy so we can look at each other with your arms folded under your chin.  You give me coy smiles, trilling coos and babbling gurgles while I laugh and cajole with you.  It's some of my favorite moments with you so far.  That and holding you in my arms or laying facing out on my body while I rock or bounce you to sleep.  Staring into your face while you drift off or feeling the weight of your body against mine is like heaven to me.  I know I'm not 'supposed' to soothe you to sleep so much but it feels really good to me.  I don't know if I care about giving it up ever.  I'll be trying it when you are 25, I bet.  

And for reals lastly,  this whole routine thing is really working for us!  We have stayed home with Nama Jill (that's my mom) for the past 3 days,  never going farther than the backyard for a nature walk, getting into quite the rhythm.  You are flourishing!

Let me break it down- this is a general approximation, every day varies a little.

8am- eat, play (watch for signs of drowsiness, anywhere from an hour to an hour and half usually, sometimes two hours)

First Nap- around 9:30. (super easy to put down for this nap, can almost just lay you down and let you look around until you fall asleep, rarely do you cry)  Sleep anywhere from one hour to two.  Eat, play.  

Second Nap- around noon.  (need more soothing for this nap) Sleep one to two hours.  Eat, play.

Third Nap- around 3pm.  (probably have to lay with you and or sleep with you for this one)  Sleep almost one hour.  Eat, play.

Fourth Nap- is kind of a joke.  Around 6pm you will get so sleepy and we put you down but you always wake up in about 15 minutes.  No worries.  We've stopped fighting it.  Now we just get you up and play with you until 7 or 7:30 when I feed you again, give you a bath, a small little massage, start singing to you and reading you books, then when you start to yawn around 8 or 8:30 I rock, bounce, sing you to sleep. 

Bedtime- anywhere between 7:30-9pm.  You sleep soundly until 12:30am.  Then again until 5:30am.  

Then it's morning all over again.  

What is amazing about this routine so far is that it feels very in sync with you and you seem to know what is coming next and to enjoy it.  It requires watching you closely while observing the clock.  Rarely are you fighting sleep like you used to. 

Now I know this could all change in a heartbeat, but I am super grateful for it right now.  Because I caught your Papa's Summer Cold and it sucks.  Being sick with a baby isn't fun. But having a Grandma around to make you warm home-made chicken soup isn't so bad either. 

By the way- my favorite sleep app right now is weissbluth method parenting myths and weissbluth method infant nap app.  

His book is rather too dense but his app keeps it simple.  His approach to sleep feels the most humane to me.  

I just peaked in on you sleeping.  I wish I was sleeping with you right now.

I love you more than you'll ever know.

Mom

Turned a corner!

Oh beautiful wonderful little monkey-

I am so in love with you it's crazy.  I can't stop looking at you.  I sneak in and peak in whenever you are sleeping wherever you are sleeping constantly like a crack addict for another hit of you.

I can't believe how big gigantic enormous a gift it is that I get to watch a little person discover their hands and feet.  And I could watch it for days.  It's my favorite pastime.  I know I don't make silly voices or sing you made up songs all day, but I do watch you like a hawk and do my best to learn from you, because you are, without a doubt, the most profound teacher I have ever known.

We finally figured out that your diapers were too small.  I bet you were happy about that.  I know Papa and I are fumbling through a lot of this but you have to understand, we have no tribe to teach us,  no paradigms to follow, no village to raise a child.  That is why it has been so incredibly illuminating having my family around the last week.  Grandma's are amazing!  They have so many tricks up their sleeves and they are so calm cool and collected when it comes to crazy making babies.  I love watching them hold you, sing to you, and rock you around like a little sack of potatoes as each one tries to find that special spot that might soothe you. The creativity is astounding.  I feel so simple.

I don't know how it happened but I do know when it happened.  The moment I stopped being terrified that something bad would happen to you any second and I started trusting everything would be okay and that you were actually going to make, and I wasn't going to break you.  It was on the freeway coming back from Venice Beach Boardwalk, which was where we took Grandma and Grandpa Wally from Salt Lake City, Utah when they visited last weekend.  I knew in my gut that Venice Beach was a bad idea.  I had originally envisioned Huntington Gardens- a serene lush environment- but acquiesced out of my own neurotic impulses to people please.  Which is inane because nobody would of cared if I'd really stuck to my original plan- but I have issues so let's move on.  Well, it was a long day of driving and the energy on the boardwalk is dark and scary.  I was anxious, as usual.  When we finally got you back in the car and headed home, that was when the trouble began.  I was sitting next to you in the back with Grandma Judy on my left.  Grandpa was up front with Papa.  Not ten minutes into the drive and you began to howl and wail like never before.  Your face looked like it might explode it got so red.  You were absolutely extremely pissed off.  I didn't know what to do.  I was like a deer in headlights.  My whole body was sweating and shaking. But Grandma Judy next to me was so calm and reassuring.  She rubbed your head and distracted you as long as we could until she finally suggested we pull over and feed you.  I couldn't wait to hold you in my arms.  We pulled over into some seedy Carls' Jr parking lot off of La Brea and I grabbed you and pulled you into my boob.   You were too upset to eat at first but finally you did.  And that was the moment I realized how tough you were.  How resilient. And that it was all going to be okay.  I took a deep breath and watched you while everyone talked amongst themselves.  I felt the huge knot that had been in my stomach since we brought you back from the hospital begin to dissolve as I realized this is what babies do, and this is what new moms go through, and here were three generations of people working it out. And the whole world had babies and my friends all had babies and apparently babies cry and don't die.  If they could do it, so could I.

I still beat myself up about it for days on end.  But I realized that did nobody any good. Like Betsy told us via Dr. Hawkins, it's about witnessing and observing and learning.  Not guilt and shaming.  Onwards and upwards!

Your Grandpa Wally is my real father.  He left when I was 6 months old.  I looked him up for the first time when I was 18 and then again when I was 31 and about to get a divorce and get sober.  He wasn't around much for me, but he's here now, and here he is holding you in his arms.  Kind of a miracle for a guy like him.  His story is pretty remarkable and I believe I'll have to write it down for him someday if he's too lazy to do so himself.  ;-)

The day after they left we went down to Laguna Beach for your cousin Asher's 3rd birthday party.  I wasn't sure if the My Little Pony I got for him was going to be a hit or not- but who knew?  All the little boys were obsessed with her.  Ha.  I wanted a little sister so badly that I used to buy my little brother Dusty Barbie's for Christmas every year.  My personal favorite was the Special Olympics Barbie.  She was in a wheel chair.  'If she can do it, so can you!"  I'm not sure Dusty appreciated the humor, I mean he was a grown man and all, but it supplied me with endless bouts of laughter.  And the tradition continues with his son.  Who apparently appreciates me a little more than his father did.   I'll insert photos later when I have time. I'm writing this on the fly.

I wore you in the Sleepy Wrap that whole day and this is your face while we fed you in the car before driving home. You kept stopping and smiling.  It melts me every time.

Lastly your Nama Jill, my own mother, has been with us for a few days now.  She's gonna watch you while I go run a writing workshop for foster kids this afternoon and while your Papa and I go out on an actual date tomorrow night! We are gonna see a movie. I can't believe it.  I'm excited and terrified at the same time.  But Nama Jill is a pro.  She swings you and soothes you and loves you and has been a huge help to us these past few days.  I understand now why having family around is so helpful.  They can tell you things like, it's okay, all babies do that, why don't you try this?  Maybe it's gas?  Don't eat this.  Eat this.

It's amazing!  It's almost like having baby translators in the house.  Even though all babies are different, it helps.  Translating babies is a gift that only comes with experience.  Experience your Papa and I don't have.  We fumble, we roll, when we are tackled by you, but we always get up, brush ourselves off and start again.  It's a true labor of love.

What I don't understand though, darling little hummingbird girl, is how for your early day naps I can sweetly lay you down and you'll smile at me, coo at me, look around, start chewing on your hands, and peacefully fall asleep without any rocking, cajoling, or bribing on our part.  There is no fight.  No struggle.

But starting at 4pm and up until you fall asleep- you turn into an anti-sleeping Ninja and it's a battle I don't like fighting.  You aren't happy anywhere for too long.  I do everything.  I strap you on and walk with you. I'm a bouncing, rocking, singing, breastfeeding machine and it's never enough.  After hours of this I finally lay you down and let you work it out for a little bit. It kills me to do so but it's the only option left.  It has helped so much to have my Mom here to sit with me and remind me, we all went through this.  I told her that I heard it kills brain cells for babies to cry.  She said that my older brother Strider must be an idiot then.  Which made me laugh because Strider is the farthest thing from an idiot.  He's one of the smartest people I have ever met.  And all she had in those days was Dr. Spock.  So he cried a lot.  I took a pacifier, so I saved myself the trouble.

All babies are different.  Learning who you are is my job right now.  My only job.  You are sensitive, and delicate at times, hardy and full of laughter at others.  You love to talk and coo.  You've got a lot to say.  You have a cheeky sense of humor.  You are incredibly alert and love to watch, people, places, and things.  You want to sit facing out more than in.  You are curious.  You are sweet. You are a little hummingbird.

I love you.

My little bird.

xx
mom