Oops

Oh Pony dear,

Your Mom is so out of it she didn't realize that the Beatles were in the 60's. NOT the 50's. Can I still blame this one on hormones? Oh heck, I'm gonna try. I have no other excuse.

You started making raspberries today. It's pretty darn cute, little lady. You get all this spit together between your lips and then you ho and hum gaping your mouth like a fish until you create little bubbles. Where do yo come up with this stuff and how come it's so damn universal? All babies do this? No wonder people keep them. It's absolutely adorable. Speaking of...at 5:45 this morning when you decided to rise and shine two hours earlier than you normally do and a mere 2 hours after your last chorus of coos and caws I dragged myself extremely reluctantly and suspiciously into your room, I admit somewhat pissoffedly, and there you were, gazing gleefully up at me mumming the words I have been dying to hear- Mamma. How could I resent you at a time like that? Put a fork in me, I thought. I am DONE. I scooped you up and held you close. I'm absolutely crazy about you. I'm madly in love. It's a beautiful thing.

So we (your Dad and I) compromised with The Sleep Easy Solution solution starting last night and I have to admit, it works. It really works. And you still love us. We followed it exactly, and there were some brutal moments, but at the end of the day you finally fell asleep and then tonight, nothing. Not a peep. I laid you down wide awake- well, drowsy but awake- handed you your stinky lovey which we now agree is a giraffe, kissed you all over as much as I could, told you everything that was going to happen, then walked out of the room. And there you went, straight to sleep, without a fuss, a fight, a sound.

Wow.

I'm so proud of you. You are the smartest baby in the whole entire world. Not only that, but Angella and I agree that you are a deep thinker, a critical thinker, and a stout observer. You like to watch and wait. I admire that about you. I think you have a thing or two to teach me about this world. In fact I know it, because you already have and there is so much more to go...

I'm incredibly tired now and need to rest. Please go easy on me tonight. Two wake ups tops, one would be great. I'm not ready to wean the night feeds. I'm just not ready for that.

I love you peanut knuckle head lover monkey butt.

Mom

Mommy update

My love,

We have been taking baths together a lot lately, mostly because you are constipated. But partially because I love them and want you too to. Tonight you got really excited running your hands under the faucet. You screamed at it like it was John Lennon and you were some hormone riddled teenager from the 50's.

You roll over and over with a vengeance and have begun teething like a madwoman. Nothing is safe from your gums. You are already amazing at yoga. You can do plank with the best of em and happy baby? Forget about it. Although you haven't been as interested in your feet lately, it's been all about the hands. You seem to thoroughly enjoy laying on your tummy and watching your hands move around you, grasping for things, such as air. I picked out a lovey for you, I hope you don't mind. It's a pink and white spotted giraffe or cow, we can't tell. Whatever it is, it works. You actually love your lovey! You don't like your face being touched too much, however, you soothe yourself by putting your lovey over your face, and then you fall asleep like that.

Angella, your new BFF, says you are dramatic and long suffering. Hmmm...I wonder who you inherited that from? (As I look away and sigh dramatically)

You have been spending some time with her. It's been super hard for me to stay away on my work days. I keep texting Angella and asking her if I need to come home and she keeps telling me to do my job so she can do hers. Hmph. I miss you when I'm gone. Every single second. I don't want to go but I know I have to. It's for the good of the family. And probably my sanity on some level.

I was just playing with your darling little hand while I nursed you back to sleep. I can't believe someday it will be as big as mine. That someday you will be all grown, not my little girl anymore. It's difficult to imagine. I want to savor every second of your smallness.

Tomorrow your Uncle Strider, Uncle Dusty, Aunt Jaime, cousins Vinny, Asher, Nixon, Nama Jill, and her boyfriend Chris are coming over for some grilled goods. It's the first time they will see the house. Should be good times.

I'll take photos. Or better yet, your Dad will. I'll be too busy making sure your Aunt Jaime doesn't steal you away with her. She loves you so much, you are lucky to have such an aunt.

Talk to you soon.

I love you and I really hope you never write in text abbreviations. That would make me terribly sad.

Love,

Mom

Baby Brain

Sometimes I walk into a room and stand there turning in circles because I can't for the life of me remember what the hell I came in there for.

They call it baby brain.

For some reason getting pregnant with you and giving birth to you has caused my synapses to freeze in slow motion. Simple words and phrases allude me like when you wake up from a dream and try desperately to hold onto it's details. That is me all day, chasing the dragon of my thoughts but never being fast enough to catch them.

I want to add a pithy photo here but don't have the energy to find one so you will just have to use your imagination and visualize me running after my thoughts and my thoughts are shaped like a dragon.

Love,

Mom

Ghostbusters

You woke up this morning fascinated with your own tongue. I know this because all day you have been sticking it out and trying to talk at the same time. You even love waiting until I go in for a big kiss on the mouth, then you push it up against my lips, it's super juicy then.

I don't have much to say, I am exhausted from all the changes, moving and traveling and going back to work. It is so much, so very very much.

I recently had to make a very big decision in my life and it felt like a break-up with someone I care about very much. But I guess part of becoming a family is that I have to put the needs of us as a whole before my own, and this is a lesson I am learning the hard way. I have to trust that all is as it should be and you know what, it always is.

Your Dad is dozing next to me on the sofa right now, slightly snoring. I don't think he's going to make it through the screener we have, The Artist. It's basically a modern silent film. Not much of an adrenaline shot there.

I had a mini meltdown the other night. I guess you should know. I was convinced the house was haunted when we heard a couple of thumps and couldn't open a closet door. I stood there frozen in fear crying while your Dad told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to be strong for you. That I couldn't breastfeed you like that, that you would sense my fear and it would scare you. I did my best to pull it together but did a crappy job of merely masking intense anxiety. I felt so unsafe. I have post traumatic stress from a 'haunting' of my childhood. It gets triggered by the slightest silliest little things, but those things seem so real to my little child brain ,causing my adult brain to react irrationally. I burned sage until your Dad begged me not to and sang Paramahansa Yogananda's lullabies all day in the house, but still the gnawing aching fear wouldn't go away. Before scheduling an exorcism I called my dear friend and mediation teacher, Jessica, begging her for some tangible tools. She gave me a truck load. First of all, she asked me what was going on in my life that might be scaring me. I told her I was considering switching sponsors, going back to work, in a new house. She said those were very valid fears. Phew. Not so crazy, right? And that when we get scared like that sometimes we go to the supernatural or astrological or paranormal to focus our attention on. That somehow that spooky stuff helps us make sense of our big feelings. Then she asked me to try three different meditation techniques when the fear came up again. 1) focus on image, talk, and feel. 2) focus on positive. and 3) realize that there was a 'witness' to all of this and this witness was bigger than me, than the 'ghost' than anything there was, in fact, it was all there was and is. Call it what you want, but it is everything and it is me as well.

I tried it and it worked immediately to relieve the edge, primarily.

Then I emailed our landlord and asked him if his house was haunted.

He said no, the heater is old and it creaks and groans, not to mention the house, which settles and moans. There are no ghosts, he assured me. Only lathe and plaster.

Your Dad laughed at me.

But I feel a hell of a lot better now.

I love our house. I love our life. And I love you most of all, Pony P.

Love, your wacky mom.