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

Boogers and Sleep

Pony, I have to admit that I find it incredibly satisfying when I get to pull out these man sized juicy milk boogers from your nose.  I know you hate it, but I kind of love it.  Is that weird?

Oh my love, my heart, my everything.  As I was writing this you became Mrs. Fussy Pants McGee.  NOTHING would soothe you, not even the ole trusty red bouncy birthing ball.  I tried everything.  I checked everything.  You weren't hungry.  Your diaper was dry.  There was no weird string wrapped around any toes.  What you were was overtired.  It makes no sense to me why you would NOT want to go to sleep.  But then again, I'm almost 40 years older than you are and tired most of the time.  All I want to do is sleep.  I think it's so easy to project my likes and dislikes on you.  Like swaddling.  We say you hated it, but in hindsight, I'm not sure who hated it more, you or me.  Anyways, your Papa came home as you were stiff legged and crying in my lap on the ball.  He promptly took you in his arms and went to his trusty go to- the pinky in the rocker.  Works like a charm.  Usually.  Not tonight.  You were punching his hand and fighting what I know you think is the good fight, but it's not sweetheart.  It really isn't.  This is not the battle to pick.  Because eventually you will sleep.

SO- we did what I loathe doing but was all that was left to do.  We let you cry for 10 minutes.  Ugh.  And you cried.  And cried.  And cried. While I sat outside your door and picked my cuticles until they bled.  Half way through Papa went in and told you how much we love you but it didn't make a difference.  You were pretty pissed off.  Understandably.

Then finally I went in, picked you up, kissed you all over and sang to you, telling you how much I love you and how hard it is when you get to that place where I can't soothe you.  Then I fed you and you passed out like a KO in the ring.  It's only 30 minutes later but you look so peaceful in your bassinet now.  Like a little angel.  I keep checking on you.  Of course.  Because honestly, that night that I put you down too soon after feeding and too close to the last feeding, when I heard you cough, and I ran in, when I saw all the milk coming out of your nose and mouth and covering your onesie and your bassinet I almost lost it.  I have never been so afraid.  Papa said I was the only one who was terrified.  Because you seemed fine.  I bathed you and loved you back to sleep.  But it was a sight I don't want to see ever again.  So- hence, every 5 minutes I walk in and look at you and thank God for you.

This was you hours before- see how tired you were?

Update- you still didn't stay asleep.  You kept waking up super fussy pants girl.  It looked like you had some serious bad gas pain and Papa pointed out that I had eaten a block of manchego cheese with an apple earlier in the day.  I thought Sheep's cheese would be okay.  I guess not.  I can't think of anything else we did differently and the last time you were this fussy I was eating dairy- so... this is what is great about co-parenting because I never would of put manchego and fusy pants together.  So bye-bye manchego cheese from the Farmer's Market. It was a sweet romance but it now needs to end.

Finally after many times putting you what we thoughts was asleep, you were sitting against your Papa's legs as I went to take a bath and he said you were smiling at him one minute, grunting the next, and passed out the third.  Right there.  You had finally reached that critical mass moment and put yourself down.  I've only seen you do this one other time.  And it was the only time you stayed asleep.  Whoa.

Lots of work.  Lots of love.

Last night we tried to have a movie night.  But to no avail.  First of all the X-Men movie that Papa stole on Extorrent was in Russian Subtitles then the weird foreign movie I rented from Netflix had random English subtitles but not consistent enough so we could understand what the hell was going on.  Those Frenchies.  What the ????

But tonight, we shall try again.  Looks like a repeat of Win Win might be in our favor.  We loved that movie and something uplifting could be really great.  I highly recommend.  It's definitely our sense of humor.

I feel old.  I have Mom's Thumb.  It's a condition that affects older mom's usually.  It's like tendonitis but only in one thumb really and mostly in the morning, except lately it's been more frequent.  It hurts like hell to pick you up sometimes.  It's really strange.  I massage it all day.  I hear it doesn't go away.  Makes me feel old.

But it's worth it.  And I never thought I'd ever feel that way.  But all of it is worth it.  The lack of sleep, the grey hairs, the bleeding cuticles, the confusion, and failures, and all the successes.  One smile from you peanut and it's a whole new world.

Love love love and love some more-

Mamma

Playgroups Rule.

Vanessa said it best this morning when we were discussing how I shall never judge another mother for what she feels she needs to do sometimes ever again-

Nessy said,  "I was a great parent until I had a child."

It's hilarious.  All the ideas I had about what kind of parent I would be.  Just like all the ideas I had about what kind of birth I would have.  Everything flies out the window when faced with what really is and who they really are.

Vanessa and Pony meet for the first time.

Pony, this is your God mother.  She gives more than she takes and lights up every room she is in.

What a playgroup we have gotten ourselves into!  We learned baby yoga, baby massage, dyed silk scarves for playing with, and even learned some simple bellydancing moves!  But most importantly Pony, I got to watch you watch everything.  And you were enthralled.  It's like you become some Zen Buddha Baby the second we walk into Betsy's house. Even though there were babies crying and women laughing and shaking their hips awkwardly (I should only speak for myself here) you calmly observed and gave me encouraging smiles along the way.  Like you knew how silly I felt and were like, come on Mom, lighten up, have some fun!   Then after you had some booby milk you passed out on the nanny there to help.  You actually slept on her chest for almost an hour!  I kept checking you and you were fine.  Happy as a clam.

Oh that constant neurotic checking on you thing.  It's doing my head in.  But I can't help it and I can't stop it.  Papa says I am like a gazelle in the wild when they smell a lion nearby.  

It happens all day and night.

Just now, for the 3rd time I've gone in to make sure you were still breathing and hadn't choked on your spit-up.

You can guess who dressed you this morning.  Papa.  He loves this onesie and tries to get it on you at least once a week.  He's so good with you.  I feel so lucky.  Because Daddy's are important too.  We were talking about this in Playgroup last week actually.  How the Dad's have such a different instinct with you little ones and how it sometimes scares the living crap out of us Mom's.  The choices they'll make, the situations they'll put you in, or how aggressively they physically handle you- it's like they are missing that hyper accident prone awareness we Mom's have, where every time we look at you guys we scan the room and situation for any and all potential disasters.  It takes my breath away sometimes, the shear potentiality of it all, and makes me wish I could still drink or at least take a pill, but I can't.  I can only breathe and repeat things like Nothing Bad is Going to Happen to Her Nothing Bad is Going to Happen to Her Nothing Bad is Going to Happen to Her until that knot subsides, even the tiniest little bit.

My point though is that Dad's are there for a reason.  They fulfill an extremely important purpose that we Mom's can't take away from them.  It's a huge lesson in trust and for me, remembering that I married this man for a reason, and because of that reason (massive huge life changing love) we wanted to make a baby, that is YOU Pony, and he is as much a part of this as I am.  And what he brings to the table is valid and integrous and true.  I have to trust.  And I hate doing that.  It's so scary!

Milestones:

You are almost TWO MONTHS old!  I can't believe it.  And just this week some amazing things started happening.  It's like you finally realized you had hands and feet and that they were connected to YOUR body.  I love watching you grab at the tiny little black bee on your receiving blanket, or stare transfixed at your feet while sitting against our knees with your legs up our chest.  I remember when your whole body fit on my legs.  Now only your torso does.  It's the most magical beautiful thing.  This dance you have with your appendages.  And then, the other night as you were hanging out in your new favorite toy, the Baby Bjorn Bouncer (we LOVE this- gift from Grandpa and Grandma Wally) I watched you actually get your thumb into your mouth and start sucking vigorously!  I almost screamed EUREKA and stopped the presses.  But then you lost it and couldn't find it again.  It took everything I had in my body not to go over there and put the damn thing back in your mouth for you, but then I would rob you of so much.  And that is something I never want to do, is take away your delight in learning something new or your pride in figuring something out.  It's excruciating though and another Zen life lesson, this patience thing.  Oy vey!  It's like having a huge white head on  your face and not being able to pop it.  Drives me crazy.  But oh so good for me.

So these were my two views this morning as I read a lovely email from our new Mommy Friend Rosa.

This is you passed out on my shoulder after eating.

This is your Dad working hard to bring home the bacon.

I wanted to cry out of the utter sweetness of it all.  When you've been down some of the long and winding roads I have, this kind of shit really gets you.  The simplicity and the love.  It's overwhelming at times.

Lastly-  I have recently been introduced to another amazing mom's fashion family blog-  Bluebird - and it continues to astound me how these women do it.  Looking at her life and clothes, I was flabbergasted.  Then I saw that she homeschools and makes them apparently the most incredible lunches I have ever seen.  How does she do it?  I feel so inadequate.

SO I decided to start my own fashion blog, for the Mom like me, who looks like she just might of given up some days but knows in reality she's still fighting the good fight.

This is my morning look-  

I'm wearing Baby, old grey washed out sweats, and a milk stained black tank top with nursing pads lost somewhere inside.  Hair took about 8 hours of sleeping/feeding/watching to achieve.

Love,

Mom

Caveats

Caveat = ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: from Latin, literally ‘let a person beware.’


I hyperbolize a lot.  It's great for writing.  Not so great for facts. 


I need to say that although I rant and rave sometimes about things I probably know little about here are my disclaimers.  


1) The first 90 days are HARD.  No doubt. And there are times I want to speed them up and just get to the end.  The end being the 4th month.  But I try to continually remind myself about enjoying the here and now and Katie helped me do that. It's looking for the silver lining.  It's not always easy.  And this baby stuff is the hardest thing I have ever attempted in my life.


2) RIE is fantastic.  It has some wonderful information that makes a ton of common and not-so common sense.  I like A LOT of it VERY MUCH.  It is what I wanted to do with that information that makes it slightly dangerous for me.  

Normal?

I woke up this morning with a blog on my mind.  I think it was inspired by the fact that I was noticing how much less I pee now. And that started me thinking into all the different ways my body has changed from pregnancy, good or bad.

Note to male readers:  STOP HERE. It could get ugly down below.  Save yourselves.

First of all, I think my vagina is actually smaller.  But that could only be because it assumed such gigantic amorphous proportions while pregnant that I have lost any "normal" reference point.  However, I am pleased to say that yes, it does go back.  To what, I am not sure, but I am perfectly happy with it.  Same with my feet and hands.  Oh yes, and face.  Everything sort of pushed the boundaries of reality as I knew it.

Secondly, I can't believe that I pee less and I'm still drinking tons of water, but once again, it's a reference point thing.  I have always peed my ass off, since I was born, I believe.  I used to tell people that I had the bladder the size of a peanut. I was not your first pick of friend for road trips. So you can imagine how crazy it got in pregnancy.  I lived on the toilet seat, day and night.  Now, I can sleep all night and pee maybe once or twice.  ONCE OR TWICE!!  Now, again, I peed possibly 12 times a night some nights while pregnant so this could be a case of the forgotten "how it was befores" but it's my story so I'm stickin to it.

And thirdly- this is slightly off topic- but NO ONE (except for my bestie Nessy who warned me) talks about how mind boggling difficult it is to poo after birth.  Especially that first time. It's a total mind game.  Just like it was in delivery when I was told to bear down like it was the biggest poo of my life, well, when I got home and tried to bear down on the toilet after it had been a little while and I couldn't avoid it anymore, it freaked me out.  I thought I was going to push my vagina out or at the very least rip open my stitch.  It was painful and frightening.  But nothing a ton of stool softeners and strong black Irish tea couldn't fix.

Lastly- I think more attention should be placed on the falling in love aspect of early babydom, instead of the obsession with sleep and are you getting any.  Because when Leigh writes about Tor like this- it inspires me to look beyond the hours spent bouncing on the ball or swaying through the house singing old Beastie Boys lyrics because that is all you know and reminds me so eloquently of the incredible gift I have been given with this child.


Did I mention yet that I’m absolutely in love with Tor? Because I think I just tripped on his latest trick and fell head over heels. We were having one of our many dialogues after nursing and he discovered his vocal chords by way of this really high-pitched squeal. The first two times, he scared himself. His eyes went super wide and shifty, then he’d look to both sides and check his surroundings. But by the third time, he caught on, then just kept at. He’d squeal, smile, laugh, repeat. If the idea is that at every little milestone, your heart falls further, then we’re in trouble deep! The power these little people have...


It's really all about perspective.  


I listened to a message from my dear darling Katie in Hawaii the other day, she said the most wonderful thing I have ever heard, she asked me if I was loving these first 3 months.  She said they were the most delicious and incredible, being with a newborn.  She has two beautiful little girls.  It was so refreshing to hear that perspective rather than the "just get through the first 90 days" that I had been hearing.  And I realized in that moment, it's a choice, how I view this time and I can choose to view it as something to endure and get through or something that is precious and should be treasured.  


It's up to me.


And when I look at your sweet sweet little face Pony and watch your eyes dance across the room as you discover new things, like the rainbows coming through the window or your own hands and feet, I now know to slow down and marvel with you.  Because the gift you are giving me, in this special time, is the gift of wonder.


We all need more wonder in our day.


Love,


mom

Rosa!

Today at the Silverlake Farmer's market a beautiful pregnant lady asked Tim and I if we had a baby blog.  Why yes, we said. She found it while looking up potential doctors and recognized us from the photos.  Wow.  What a wonderful serendipitous gift! She made me feel tremendous today.  If my experience can benefit others, then my work here is done.

Please feel free to friend me on facebook-  Arrowyn Ambrose Husom- or email me anytime at arrowyn@mac.com if you have any questions or thoughts or whatever.  I am honored.

Today was a doozy Pony dear.  And you are paying for it right now. You are so tired you can't stand it.  I am so sorry.  We went to the Farmer's Market, like I mentioned above, then we toted you to The Natural History Museum to meet up with your Aunt Jaime, Uncle Dusty, and cousins Asher and Nixon.  Little did we know it was not only the opening of the new dinosaur exhibit but the first USC game of the year.  There were people everywhere. Inside the museum kids were screaming and running around like wild banshees with no parental supervision.  I could barely hear myself think.  And that was when I began to panic.  I thought it was because I had the RIE teacher's voice pounding in my head that I must keep a calm stable consistent routine for you Pony or else I was ruining you for life.  But in reality, it was me.  I have always hated crowds and I was just unconsciously blaming it on you.  You were my scapegoat.  Why would anyone willingly go to Burning Man?  Or Coachella?  Or anywhere that requires waiting in lines, parking in giant structures, or battling crowds?  I'd rather shoot myself in the foot and go limping through the Sahara desert than choose to spend my afternoon around a bunch of strangers.  I told them all it was because of you.  Aunt Jaime told me how she took Asher to Disney land when he was 6 weeks old for Vinny's birthday and he was fine, doesn't torture small animals or anything.  He is only 3 years old, but still.  I knew what she meant.  Goddamn, if I don't wish I could bottle up her confidence and calm.  I'd drink that down like a fine bottle of single malt scotch.  And for the record, I could drink that down rather easily in my day.

I have photos of this day.  I will have to add them after Papa sends them to me.  It was really fun to see everyone.  I wish they lived closer.  I have so much to learn.

So my epiphany for the day has been- Drop the labels and swim for the surface.  I am so grateful I met this wonderful woman named Betsy.  It's so rare that you meet kindred spirits in this world and she certainly is one.  She helped me understand my fascination with RIE.  It's because I have this genetic propensity (my Grandmother is a fundamentalist Mormon) to be attracted to small cult like quirky sects in anything I endeavor so that I can feel special and better than.  Eww.  Drop the rocks.  Drop the labels. I don't need to be a RIE parent, or Attachment Parent, or anything Parent.  I just need to be Pony's Mom today.  That's it.  And here comes the real kicker- in my spiritual program there is a lot of talk about the difference between believing in God (insert own definition here because mine is no old white man) and relying on God.  I can talk all day about my 'belief' in a higher power but when it comes down to it, am I relying on that power to guide my life?  Hmm....  Probably not.  I want to control EVERYTHING.  Even when it has been repeatedly proven to me irrefutably that whenever I try to control ANYTHING, I fuck it up real bad.  And I mean, REAL BAD.  It backfires like crazy.  Food, for example, when I was desperate to control my weight I tried everything- Atkins, Macro, Raw, Vegan, Vegetarian, Fasting, etc.. and the result was more weight.  Only when I finally gave up did my weight normalize.  Same with dating.  When I gave up, I met your Dad.  So maybe if I finally give up trying to control parenting you, I will actually be able to enjoy you like I want to.  With my head out of the way and my heart fully open, without all the fear and dogma racing through my veins.  That is my goal today.  To rely on God in this. Because it always works.

I have so much more to say but am way too tired to say it.

It took only 2 hours to soothe you to sleep tonight.  But it was worth it.  My favorite part was when you were lying in my arms in the rocking chair and I was able to watch you keep falling asleep, then laughing in your sleep, then waking yourself up, only to fall asleep again.

You are tremendously powerful for such a little person.  I adore you more and more.

My other kindred mommy friend wrote this about her son Tor- I have to publish it-

After I put him to bed last night, I was thinking how inexplicable it is to have so much love for one little person. And not only for who he is now, but for all that he decides to become. It makes your heart swell. I've decided if I had to give one word to motherhood, it would be "full." I like it because it doesn't connote good or bad. My heart being so full--good beyond logic. My head crammed full of should, would and could--leaning a little more towards the not so good. Every waking (and sleeping) moment being dictated by pint sized squawks and sighs--could go either way depending on the moment. There's no part of my life or self that isn't full right now, and I think it's just to keep getting better. So then I started thinking that of course we must have more kids. Then all this love can multiply. Go big or go home, right? Too bad love can't pay for insurance and college.

This is what friends are for.  I feel so lucky to have met such good ones so soon.

Love,

Mom

Fahrenheit 451

I'm burning all baby books about parenting and sleep training.  Especially ones written by people that don't have any children.

Bonfire at 7pm in Highland Park.

Who's with me?

Pony has a yellow poo poo in her pants!

I thought it was time for a new video post of you Pony. Enjoy! - Daddy

Pony and the Poo Poo song, Sept 2, 2011 from Arrowyn Ambrose Husom on Vimeo.

Back up

Okay- scratch that.  Everything I wrote before about feeling more confident, forget it.  I suck at this and I think if Pony could, she would of fired us by now.

Thank God she can't talk yet because it buys us another chance.

It's a new day.

That's all I can say.