Pony,
I realized, after this week of no sleep till Brooklyn (which is a Beastie Boys reference, in case you didn't know) how easy it is to romanticize night feedings when there is only one a night. There is nothing romantic or sweet about four or five feedings in a night. Absolutely nothing. I am slowly losing my mind and beginning to fantasize about all sorts of barbaric forms of sleep training. I swear, if we had any alcohol in the house, I would have slathered your gums in it. I get it, is what I am trying to say. Even if I can't articulate the it.
We decided this morning, because I was destroyed after another sleepless night, that we would do some "training." Ugh. It is now 3am. The "training" didn't go so well. You went to sleep without a hitch at 6:15pm. Then at 11:30pm you cried out, I fed you, and went to bed. Then you made a bad choice for everyone involved. You woke up at 1:15am. You couldn't possibly be hungry so soon so Dad went down for a check in. You got quiet after 5 minutes. I finally let out a deep breath and thought, yes, I can DO this. This isn't so bad... BUT then 10 minutes later, you cried out again. Hmmm. Dad went down. And on it went until 2:30am. We finally decided that our own way was not working and starting right then and there we would follow to a T the Sleepy Planet book and DVD. I was hoping we could avoid it, but I don't see any other choice. I get co-sleeping now. I really do.
I got up while your Dad put in ear plugs and waited till 2:30am and a lull in your crying out. Then I went down and nursed you for almost 30 minutes. It was way too long. But I couldn't help myself. You were so darn cute. You weren't fully asleep but seemed pretty relaxed so I held you and then laid you back down.
Now I am upstairs watching you sleep on the monitor, your little ruffled butt in the air.
Please honey, please, for the love of God. STAY ASLEEP.
Just stay the f*&$ asleep.
Love,
Mom
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
No sleep till Brooklyn
Dear Squirty mcfussy pants,
It's 2am and we just spent two hours trying to help you go back to sleep. It began at midnight, when I heard you cry out. I promptly went down and nursed you to what we hope is back to sleep. It usually is. Tonight when I saw your little free hand waving in the air to grab my nose and your wide eyes beaming up at me in the dark I knew we were in trouble. I laid you back down after you at least seemed drowsy and went back to bed. I heard you squawking in there intermittently but tried my best to ignore it. Finally at 1am the squawking turned to crying and I gave it another go. You seemed genuinely tired, you did. So I put you back down. No avail. More intermittent squawking that quickly turned into crying around 1:20am. At this point I needed recruitments. So I enlisted your Dad. He went down this time, picked you up, laid you back down, and handed you your lovey. Hoping that was a pretty clear message you seemed to get it, for about 30 seconds. Then you cried again, then down in your lovey, then crying again. This went on for almost 40 minutes. The entire time I was staring at the monitor in our darkened room racking my brain trying to figure out what could be keeping you up- is it too hot? Too cold? Did I make it too dark tonight? Could you be hungry? You just ate. But maybe you are teething? If you are growing you could be hungry. Maybe you just had a massive growth spurt at 1am? Anything is possible. Is your diaper wet, soggy, full of poo? What if you have an earache, a fever, and I missed it? Is this your way of alerting me of danger? A fire, spiders, ghosts, or zombies... Finally I just got up and went in and breastfed you. This time, you passed out. Thank God. Except now I am wide awake worrying about a Zombie Apocalypse and you and your Dad are catching some much needed z's. I really shouldn't watch The Walking Dead before bed.
Wouldn't this image keep you up at night?
At least I fell asleep at 9:30pm. You slept from 6pm till midnight. It was a good run. I'm hoping this next one takes us till morning. I have no idea why every night is different with you. I envy those mothers who say they know exactly their child's sleep, nap, and eat schedule. You, my love, are still working those kinks out. We might not have a set schedule, but we do have routine. Go team Husom.
Maybe you are just a restless ridiculously light sleeper like I am? It kind of sucks but I have gotten used to it. I drink calcium magnesium before bed. That helps. Catching myself at the right moment, helps too. If I over shoot the mark, I'm doomed and it could take awhile before that chance comes around again, like now. Meditation helps. Prayer helps. Counting sheep has never helped. I have an overproduction of anxiety. God, I pray you don't suffer the same. It's been a huge yolk to carry my whole life. It's one of the reasons I work so hard to make sure you feel attached and secure with us. Because I know for a fact, a lot of my anxiety comes from my lack of attachment to my parents early on, way early on, and I never want that for you. I'll do whatever it takes for as long as it takes and as early or late as it takes and as many times as it takes to keep your anxiety at bay. On the flip side, I also want to encourage you to learn how to self-soothe. Which also was an issue with me. I sought out some pretty destructive methods as I don't know if I ever learned any. So it's a fine tight wire walk we balance as parents. I had no idea it would be so tricky. So treacherous, it feels. I just read a post on the Booby Brigade from a co-sleeping Mom that loves it but is feeling pressured from husband and mother-in-law to change. There are a lot of pro-co-cleeping Moms in this group and I always appreciate their insight and wisdom. However, it is so hard as a new Mom not to question everything I am doing or get super judgmental about what others are doing when I hear about radically different parenting choices. It really messes with my mind. And my mind is pretty messy already. I mean, Zombies, really? I feel powerless over it most of the time. My mind, that is. Not zombies. Back to the Booby Brigade. I wanted to co-sleep with you. I have tried many times. It sucks. I can't sleep, I am super uncomfortable and I wake up every second to make sure you aren't suffocating under one of us. I can't seem to figure out what to do with the arm underneath the boob you are feeding from and you could nurse for hours, then, it seems. I mean, HOURS. Like, you don't stop. The constant sensation on my boob also keeps me awake. Then and only then have I ever felt resentful of breastfeeding. Not to mention how adamant your Dad is that we keep you in your own bed. So I have to volley his frustrations as well. It's not worth it. When I nurse you next to your crib, gently stroking your forehead, I wait until you fall lightly asleep, then I pick you up, hold you in my arms while rubbing your back and telling you how much I love you. We sway like that for almost 10 minutes because I love holding you so much like that. You are so sweet and soft in my arms. I can feel your breath on my neck. I treasure these moments. Then finally I lay you down in your crib while you grab your lovey and roll over with a giant sigh. Afterwards I can go and be restless next to your Dad. Hoping I don't wake him up. Not tonight. Tonight. I write. Then I'll read a very provocative yet heady book called 1491, about the Americas pre-Columbus, FASCINATING READ which I don't retain or understand but enjoy nevertheless. I feel smarter just holding the book. At least it is really great for putting me to sleep.
I don't know if I did the "right" or "wrong" thing by going back in tonight and nursing you down. I do know that it was very unusual behavior for you to do what you did- that I saw you trying to fall asleep, doing everything you could, and it just not working for you. And since I know your Dad loves his head rubs before bed and I love a good historical novel, why not help you get what you need, even if it's a little fleshy boob.
I am sure tonight will be a completely different story. Let the games begin, I say.
I love you and your little butt.
Even when you aren't sleeping well.
Mom
It's 2am and we just spent two hours trying to help you go back to sleep. It began at midnight, when I heard you cry out. I promptly went down and nursed you to what we hope is back to sleep. It usually is. Tonight when I saw your little free hand waving in the air to grab my nose and your wide eyes beaming up at me in the dark I knew we were in trouble. I laid you back down after you at least seemed drowsy and went back to bed. I heard you squawking in there intermittently but tried my best to ignore it. Finally at 1am the squawking turned to crying and I gave it another go. You seemed genuinely tired, you did. So I put you back down. No avail. More intermittent squawking that quickly turned into crying around 1:20am. At this point I needed recruitments. So I enlisted your Dad. He went down this time, picked you up, laid you back down, and handed you your lovey. Hoping that was a pretty clear message you seemed to get it, for about 30 seconds. Then you cried again, then down in your lovey, then crying again. This went on for almost 40 minutes. The entire time I was staring at the monitor in our darkened room racking my brain trying to figure out what could be keeping you up- is it too hot? Too cold? Did I make it too dark tonight? Could you be hungry? You just ate. But maybe you are teething? If you are growing you could be hungry. Maybe you just had a massive growth spurt at 1am? Anything is possible. Is your diaper wet, soggy, full of poo? What if you have an earache, a fever, and I missed it? Is this your way of alerting me of danger? A fire, spiders, ghosts, or zombies... Finally I just got up and went in and breastfed you. This time, you passed out. Thank God. Except now I am wide awake worrying about a Zombie Apocalypse and you and your Dad are catching some much needed z's. I really shouldn't watch The Walking Dead before bed.
Wouldn't this image keep you up at night?
At least I fell asleep at 9:30pm. You slept from 6pm till midnight. It was a good run. I'm hoping this next one takes us till morning. I have no idea why every night is different with you. I envy those mothers who say they know exactly their child's sleep, nap, and eat schedule. You, my love, are still working those kinks out. We might not have a set schedule, but we do have routine. Go team Husom.
Maybe you are just a restless ridiculously light sleeper like I am? It kind of sucks but I have gotten used to it. I drink calcium magnesium before bed. That helps. Catching myself at the right moment, helps too. If I over shoot the mark, I'm doomed and it could take awhile before that chance comes around again, like now. Meditation helps. Prayer helps. Counting sheep has never helped. I have an overproduction of anxiety. God, I pray you don't suffer the same. It's been a huge yolk to carry my whole life. It's one of the reasons I work so hard to make sure you feel attached and secure with us. Because I know for a fact, a lot of my anxiety comes from my lack of attachment to my parents early on, way early on, and I never want that for you. I'll do whatever it takes for as long as it takes and as early or late as it takes and as many times as it takes to keep your anxiety at bay. On the flip side, I also want to encourage you to learn how to self-soothe. Which also was an issue with me. I sought out some pretty destructive methods as I don't know if I ever learned any. So it's a fine tight wire walk we balance as parents. I had no idea it would be so tricky. So treacherous, it feels. I just read a post on the Booby Brigade from a co-sleeping Mom that loves it but is feeling pressured from husband and mother-in-law to change. There are a lot of pro-co-cleeping Moms in this group and I always appreciate their insight and wisdom. However, it is so hard as a new Mom not to question everything I am doing or get super judgmental about what others are doing when I hear about radically different parenting choices. It really messes with my mind. And my mind is pretty messy already. I mean, Zombies, really? I feel powerless over it most of the time. My mind, that is. Not zombies. Back to the Booby Brigade. I wanted to co-sleep with you. I have tried many times. It sucks. I can't sleep, I am super uncomfortable and I wake up every second to make sure you aren't suffocating under one of us. I can't seem to figure out what to do with the arm underneath the boob you are feeding from and you could nurse for hours, then, it seems. I mean, HOURS. Like, you don't stop. The constant sensation on my boob also keeps me awake. Then and only then have I ever felt resentful of breastfeeding. Not to mention how adamant your Dad is that we keep you in your own bed. So I have to volley his frustrations as well. It's not worth it. When I nurse you next to your crib, gently stroking your forehead, I wait until you fall lightly asleep, then I pick you up, hold you in my arms while rubbing your back and telling you how much I love you. We sway like that for almost 10 minutes because I love holding you so much like that. You are so sweet and soft in my arms. I can feel your breath on my neck. I treasure these moments. Then finally I lay you down in your crib while you grab your lovey and roll over with a giant sigh. Afterwards I can go and be restless next to your Dad. Hoping I don't wake him up. Not tonight. Tonight. I write. Then I'll read a very provocative yet heady book called 1491, about the Americas pre-Columbus, FASCINATING READ which I don't retain or understand but enjoy nevertheless. I feel smarter just holding the book. At least it is really great for putting me to sleep.
I don't know if I did the "right" or "wrong" thing by going back in tonight and nursing you down. I do know that it was very unusual behavior for you to do what you did- that I saw you trying to fall asleep, doing everything you could, and it just not working for you. And since I know your Dad loves his head rubs before bed and I love a good historical novel, why not help you get what you need, even if it's a little fleshy boob.
I am sure tonight will be a completely different story. Let the games begin, I say.
I love you and your little butt.
Even when you aren't sleeping well.
Mom
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
8 months!
Squirt!
First of all, I should know better than to brag about your wonderful sleeping skills with anyone or anything when you are on a good run. It's like being on the freeway in Los Angeles traffic, everyone knows if you talk about it when it's good, no doubt in 5 minutes you'll hit a sig alert.
Oh my little Pony P- there I went this morning thinking I had jinxed you last night (you were up every hour and a half) and then lo and behold guess what I found this afternoon? Drum roll please.... A TOOTH!!! That's right! Your first little tooth is poking through. It's so exciting. Although I don't think it's as exciting for you. You struggled today. We both struggled. I feel like I went through Mommy boot camp. I'm covered in the various foods I tempted you with, to no avail, such as avocado, chicken, and carrots. My shirt is wet from your bath and it's unbuttoned down to my navel from breastfeeding you to bed. I have looked better, that is for sure. Disheveled is an understatement. Exhausted but relieved that you are finally sound asleep in your crib with my favorite lady bug pi's on you. They were a hand-me-down and somebody paid bucks for them. They have grips on the bottom of your footsies! You get what you pay for, I guess. Even though we didn't pay for them...ehem.
Anyway- I have one photo of you today- after I had buckled you in and got you ready for a trip to the local rec center! Yay!! Here we go...
Look what a big 8 month old girl you are, with a tiny little tooth and all.
I love you Poo.
Mom
First of all, I should know better than to brag about your wonderful sleeping skills with anyone or anything when you are on a good run. It's like being on the freeway in Los Angeles traffic, everyone knows if you talk about it when it's good, no doubt in 5 minutes you'll hit a sig alert.
Oh my little Pony P- there I went this morning thinking I had jinxed you last night (you were up every hour and a half) and then lo and behold guess what I found this afternoon? Drum roll please.... A TOOTH!!! That's right! Your first little tooth is poking through. It's so exciting. Although I don't think it's as exciting for you. You struggled today. We both struggled. I feel like I went through Mommy boot camp. I'm covered in the various foods I tempted you with, to no avail, such as avocado, chicken, and carrots. My shirt is wet from your bath and it's unbuttoned down to my navel from breastfeeding you to bed. I have looked better, that is for sure. Disheveled is an understatement. Exhausted but relieved that you are finally sound asleep in your crib with my favorite lady bug pi's on you. They were a hand-me-down and somebody paid bucks for them. They have grips on the bottom of your footsies! You get what you pay for, I guess. Even though we didn't pay for them...ehem.
Anyway- I have one photo of you today- after I had buckled you in and got you ready for a trip to the local rec center! Yay!! Here we go...
Look what a big 8 month old girl you are, with a tiny little tooth and all.
I love you Poo.
Mom
Monday, March 19, 2012
Begin Again
Squirt!!
I have been lax and remiss in my new mommy journalistic duties! I got sidetracked by my innate self-seeking compulsions. I'll admit it. And it didn't go so well for me. I almost lost my job over it. Phew- dodged a bullet there! Here is what happened, feeling like I was missing my calling as a professional writer and under some delusion that one must have a blog about writing to be a writer (totally boring- I KNOW!!) I tried to resurrect my Deprivation Junky blog- this is a blog I had a few years ago for the book I wrote of the same name- What a disaster that was.
First of all, I am no longer a Deprivation Junky. That was my 20's. I am now living in opulent abundance, probably redundant but since I just ate half a bag of animal cookies, I don't care. And due to my fortunate turn of life events (I'm talking about YOU and your DAD!) I would sit and stare at my computer these past few months wondering what to write about. I had nothing P! NOTHING. I became desperate, I thought I was suffering from Writers Block. I've never had writers block in my entire writing life. I always have something to say about something. Out of complete hopelessness I picked up one of my favorite books on writing called "Writing Down the Bones" and opened it up- the page said to write whatever I was obsessing about. Which was fantastic advice, if I had taken it and not warped it. Because you see, Pony P, I am OBSESSED with you, and everything about you, things you need, want, play with, eat, poop, wear- what it's like to be your Mom and Tim's wife. All things family, mother, and educator. THAT Stuff enthralls me. But instead of looking there- I thought about something else that was bothering me and wrote about THAT in way that should have been private but was public. A familial theme, you'll learn soon enough. Lucky for us we have a very understanding Boss and he helped me see the error of my ways which I am so grateful for because it brought me back to you. Where I wanted to be all along. I have abandoned the other and returned home to you, Dear Squirt.
And even though I know I've missed some good moments back there, I promise to make up for lost time.
So here we go again, on our own, walking down the only road we've ever known.
You and me and Pony p.
Love,
Mom
I have been lax and remiss in my new mommy journalistic duties! I got sidetracked by my innate self-seeking compulsions. I'll admit it. And it didn't go so well for me. I almost lost my job over it. Phew- dodged a bullet there! Here is what happened, feeling like I was missing my calling as a professional writer and under some delusion that one must have a blog about writing to be a writer (totally boring- I KNOW!!) I tried to resurrect my Deprivation Junky blog- this is a blog I had a few years ago for the book I wrote of the same name- What a disaster that was.
First of all, I am no longer a Deprivation Junky. That was my 20's. I am now living in opulent abundance, probably redundant but since I just ate half a bag of animal cookies, I don't care. And due to my fortunate turn of life events (I'm talking about YOU and your DAD!) I would sit and stare at my computer these past few months wondering what to write about. I had nothing P! NOTHING. I became desperate, I thought I was suffering from Writers Block. I've never had writers block in my entire writing life. I always have something to say about something. Out of complete hopelessness I picked up one of my favorite books on writing called "Writing Down the Bones" and opened it up- the page said to write whatever I was obsessing about. Which was fantastic advice, if I had taken it and not warped it. Because you see, Pony P, I am OBSESSED with you, and everything about you, things you need, want, play with, eat, poop, wear- what it's like to be your Mom and Tim's wife. All things family, mother, and educator. THAT Stuff enthralls me. But instead of looking there- I thought about something else that was bothering me and wrote about THAT in way that should have been private but was public. A familial theme, you'll learn soon enough. Lucky for us we have a very understanding Boss and he helped me see the error of my ways which I am so grateful for because it brought me back to you. Where I wanted to be all along. I have abandoned the other and returned home to you, Dear Squirt.
And even though I know I've missed some good moments back there, I promise to make up for lost time.
So here we go again, on our own, walking down the only road we've ever known.
You and me and Pony p.
Love,
Mom
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Food
Pony,
I knew this day would come and I dreaded it my whole life. I think it was actually one of the number one reasons why I didn't think I would make a good mother. Because I think some people would question how I even feed myself, much less another. Maybe that's why I love breastfeeding so much, it's so simple and easy. I don't have to think about it. Eureka! But the tides have changed and I now must start planning 3 meals a day plus snacks for you. Oy vey. To be honest, I usually end up giving you some of whatever I am eating, lucky for us, that's usually pretty darn healthy. But you are a picky eater and not all days are eating days. In fact, some days are just finger food days. And then the other days, only breast milk with possibly a few puffs and seaweed mixed in. You LOVE seaweed snacks, and the more wasabi, the better it seems. You also like chicken pieces cut and shredded for you. You are a pretty awesome gummer, I must say. Kind of proud of that fact as one of my biggest fears has been choking. I am terrified of it. I think that because I am so scared of you choking, I keep giving you bigger chunkier things in hopes that you'll be a gold medal chewer as soon as possible. Also a good cougher upper of items. I actually get excited when you cough something back up. Practice makes perfect.
I scan the ground every time I set you down for potential hazards. Anything is fair game for your mouth. I find you putting the strangest things in there. One day you found two tiny little white homeopathic teething pills and managed to get them in there. Impressive dexterity.
I think your two top teeth are coming in, but then again, I've been thinking that for months.
You don't like bananas or papaya. But you love peaches and pears.
I don't like bananas either, but I'm more than a little obsessed with papaya. I could eat it all day. With avocado, which you tolerate.
You look so proud of yourself when you sit with Dad and I, your chicken bits in front of you, on your face, your hands, all over the ground and our salads in front of us, eating together like the family we are.
Today we are painting easter eggs, your Dad has decided he wants to celebrate the holidays with decorations and traditions. So here we go...
Lastly, we are printing your hands and feet before your bath. I'll post a photo later tonight.
I love you peanut.
And your little gummy smile.
Mom
I knew this day would come and I dreaded it my whole life. I think it was actually one of the number one reasons why I didn't think I would make a good mother. Because I think some people would question how I even feed myself, much less another. Maybe that's why I love breastfeeding so much, it's so simple and easy. I don't have to think about it. Eureka! But the tides have changed and I now must start planning 3 meals a day plus snacks for you. Oy vey. To be honest, I usually end up giving you some of whatever I am eating, lucky for us, that's usually pretty darn healthy. But you are a picky eater and not all days are eating days. In fact, some days are just finger food days. And then the other days, only breast milk with possibly a few puffs and seaweed mixed in. You LOVE seaweed snacks, and the more wasabi, the better it seems. You also like chicken pieces cut and shredded for you. You are a pretty awesome gummer, I must say. Kind of proud of that fact as one of my biggest fears has been choking. I am terrified of it. I think that because I am so scared of you choking, I keep giving you bigger chunkier things in hopes that you'll be a gold medal chewer as soon as possible. Also a good cougher upper of items. I actually get excited when you cough something back up. Practice makes perfect.
I scan the ground every time I set you down for potential hazards. Anything is fair game for your mouth. I find you putting the strangest things in there. One day you found two tiny little white homeopathic teething pills and managed to get them in there. Impressive dexterity.
I think your two top teeth are coming in, but then again, I've been thinking that for months.
You don't like bananas or papaya. But you love peaches and pears.
I don't like bananas either, but I'm more than a little obsessed with papaya. I could eat it all day. With avocado, which you tolerate.
You look so proud of yourself when you sit with Dad and I, your chicken bits in front of you, on your face, your hands, all over the ground and our salads in front of us, eating together like the family we are.
Today we are painting easter eggs, your Dad has decided he wants to celebrate the holidays with decorations and traditions. So here we go...
Lastly, we are printing your hands and feet before your bath. I'll post a photo later tonight.
I love you peanut.
And your little gummy smile.
Mom
Saturday, March 17, 2012
The Sleep Issue
Pony P,
I am so sick of talking about your sleep habits. Our culture is way too obsessed with them, and whether or not I've harnessed yours or not. In Italy they think our sleep obsession bazaar, for them, it's food, How much is your kid eating? What is your kid eating? Probably drives a few Moms batty over there as well.
I guess if you were an Olympic sleep athlete I wouldn't be fuming. But you are not totally anti sleep either. You are definitely somewhere in the middle. I'd say on average you wake up twice a night, randomly. Sometimes it's more, rarely is it less. When it is more, I spend my days in a stupor, wandering around like the walking dead. When it is less I think I can take on the world, it's so novel and exciting. Most days I feel just okay. I can handle most things that come my way with a pinch of equanimity. If I meditated more consistently, I'm sure that equanimity would raise regardless of nocturnal nursings. It's the one topic your Dad and I have argued more about than any other thing. In fact- I can't even think of another thing. But I have a confession to make, I secretly really love nursing you at night. I love nursing you all the time, but at night, it feels super natural to connect like that, at least once. I get something out of it. I'm not just giving. I get to hold you, hear you, smell you. I get to close my eyes and feel your belly breathing against mine. I get to open my eyes and see this tiny little hand waving in the air. Your Dad and I made an agreement that no babies would sleep in the bed and I have honored that and I ultimately think it's best for our family. So I treasure these little interludes we get. And lucky for us, we don't endure the level of sleep deprivation some of my friends do. I don't know what I'd do if we did. Well, yes, I do. We'd be doing a lot more "training." A concept I abhor.
So sleep on little one, sleep on. I'll adjust knowing that some day you won't need me in the middle of the night anymore, in fact, you won't need me at all, and I will miss these precious days painfully. So I milk them for everything they are worth. I'm like the dairy queen except I am open 24 hours 7 days a week.
Love,
Mom
I am so sick of talking about your sleep habits. Our culture is way too obsessed with them, and whether or not I've harnessed yours or not. In Italy they think our sleep obsession bazaar, for them, it's food, How much is your kid eating? What is your kid eating? Probably drives a few Moms batty over there as well.
I guess if you were an Olympic sleep athlete I wouldn't be fuming. But you are not totally anti sleep either. You are definitely somewhere in the middle. I'd say on average you wake up twice a night, randomly. Sometimes it's more, rarely is it less. When it is more, I spend my days in a stupor, wandering around like the walking dead. When it is less I think I can take on the world, it's so novel and exciting. Most days I feel just okay. I can handle most things that come my way with a pinch of equanimity. If I meditated more consistently, I'm sure that equanimity would raise regardless of nocturnal nursings. It's the one topic your Dad and I have argued more about than any other thing. In fact- I can't even think of another thing. But I have a confession to make, I secretly really love nursing you at night. I love nursing you all the time, but at night, it feels super natural to connect like that, at least once. I get something out of it. I'm not just giving. I get to hold you, hear you, smell you. I get to close my eyes and feel your belly breathing against mine. I get to open my eyes and see this tiny little hand waving in the air. Your Dad and I made an agreement that no babies would sleep in the bed and I have honored that and I ultimately think it's best for our family. So I treasure these little interludes we get. And lucky for us, we don't endure the level of sleep deprivation some of my friends do. I don't know what I'd do if we did. Well, yes, I do. We'd be doing a lot more "training." A concept I abhor.
So sleep on little one, sleep on. I'll adjust knowing that some day you won't need me in the middle of the night anymore, in fact, you won't need me at all, and I will miss these precious days painfully. So I milk them for everything they are worth. I'm like the dairy queen except I am open 24 hours 7 days a week.
Love,
Mom
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Butt
Dear Pony,
Your Dad says he read in some book about baby brains that I shouldn't use your name when I am telling you not to do something. But it's so hard- what do I say when you keep trying to inhale your bath water? Terms of endearment don't seem sufficient when you get that crazy look in your eye and you start ogling the water, transfixed, waiting for the perfect moment to dip your face in and breathe IN instead of OUT. Every time you do it, you sit up, coughing and choking, looking at me like I am the crazy one. I have tried just letting you experiment in hopes that you would quickly learn how not fun that is, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I then thought as a mother maybe it's my job, like if you were putting your hand towards fire or a light socket, to tell you No. So I have tried that. Sometimes you stop when I say it, and give me a cheeky look with a sly grin. I know then it's only a matter of time. One minor distraction on my part and it's back to huffing water. It's a strange game you like to play. I'm not sure I understand it, but I'll just keep standing by the sink and calling out anything other than Pony every time you start to dive bomb.
However, at this moment, I've never seen anyone so enthralled by a plastic drinking cup and a step stool before. It really is the simple things you love more than anything. Surrounded by colorful rattling toys you always go for the tube of aquafore or the spatula. I love watching you play. I sneak up and spy on you. It's a little creepy but maybe not totally. Someday I may get a life again. Although I truly don't mind this one.
I look forward to Mondays and Tuesdays with you every week. Is it selfish of me that I relish my days alone with you, when I can have you all to my self? Sometimes I don't want to share you with anyone, even Daddy. Even though my fantasy of napping with you seems to stay just that, a fantasy. I see how hard it is to find your sweet spot with you butt in the air when you have my boob in your mouth. Not to mention how uncomfortable it is for me to feel you try.
It's a chilly day out today and all I can think about is building you a sandbox in the backyard. I'm obsessed at the moment and pretty sure I won't stop until it's done. How fun would that be? Your very own sandbox that close!! I saw some pretty cool wooden swing sets online as well, but I don't think we have the funds or room for that. I'm sure a sandbox will suffice. We'll be building our castles out of sand.
I love you peanut.
I want to bite your butt right now.
Mom
Your Dad says he read in some book about baby brains that I shouldn't use your name when I am telling you not to do something. But it's so hard- what do I say when you keep trying to inhale your bath water? Terms of endearment don't seem sufficient when you get that crazy look in your eye and you start ogling the water, transfixed, waiting for the perfect moment to dip your face in and breathe IN instead of OUT. Every time you do it, you sit up, coughing and choking, looking at me like I am the crazy one. I have tried just letting you experiment in hopes that you would quickly learn how not fun that is, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I then thought as a mother maybe it's my job, like if you were putting your hand towards fire or a light socket, to tell you No. So I have tried that. Sometimes you stop when I say it, and give me a cheeky look with a sly grin. I know then it's only a matter of time. One minor distraction on my part and it's back to huffing water. It's a strange game you like to play. I'm not sure I understand it, but I'll just keep standing by the sink and calling out anything other than Pony every time you start to dive bomb.
However, at this moment, I've never seen anyone so enthralled by a plastic drinking cup and a step stool before. It really is the simple things you love more than anything. Surrounded by colorful rattling toys you always go for the tube of aquafore or the spatula. I love watching you play. I sneak up and spy on you. It's a little creepy but maybe not totally. Someday I may get a life again. Although I truly don't mind this one.
I look forward to Mondays and Tuesdays with you every week. Is it selfish of me that I relish my days alone with you, when I can have you all to my self? Sometimes I don't want to share you with anyone, even Daddy. Even though my fantasy of napping with you seems to stay just that, a fantasy. I see how hard it is to find your sweet spot with you butt in the air when you have my boob in your mouth. Not to mention how uncomfortable it is for me to feel you try.
It's a chilly day out today and all I can think about is building you a sandbox in the backyard. I'm obsessed at the moment and pretty sure I won't stop until it's done. How fun would that be? Your very own sandbox that close!! I saw some pretty cool wooden swing sets online as well, but I don't think we have the funds or room for that. I'm sure a sandbox will suffice. We'll be building our castles out of sand.
I love you peanut.
I want to bite your butt right now.
Mom
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
Indie 500
Daughter,
You never cease to amaze me. You are crawling like a maniac! My favorite though is during naked time when as soon as I set you down on the blanket after your bath you roll over and take off like Mario Andretti. Your little white butt is all I see as you race through the dining room and into the kitchen. Sometimes I crawl after you just to see what you will do. You stop and wait for me with a huge slobbery smile, and then take off again as soon as I bite your butt, squealing with laughter. Another trick we have discovered during naked time is you climbing up onto my lap, turning around, and then putting your head down onto the ground so I can flip your legs over your head. Somersaults, but you don't call them that yet. You just love doing them. You also love biting my nose. I believe it's your way of showing affection. I get it. A little aggressive, but I get it. And then, something your Dad and I love about you, is that a mere piece of string from a fluffy sock can entertain you for almost half an hour. You are definitely my daughter there. I love getting lost in lint.
You laugh out loud every time you see your Dad, no matter what he is doing. And when I lay you down in your crib you roll around doing gymnastics till you find that perfect sweet spot- usually with your butt in the air. You love your lovey. It gets pretty smelly. But timing it's own bath can be quite tricky. I named it Gigi for you. You can change it if you like.
You have a friend. His name is Kasper. When you guys hung out the other day he was super into you and you kept trying to smack him in the face. I think it's again, your way of showing affection. We might need to discuss down the line.
I love you more than I thought was possible.
I miss you every moment I am not with you.
I will always be here for you no matter what.
Mom
You never cease to amaze me. You are crawling like a maniac! My favorite though is during naked time when as soon as I set you down on the blanket after your bath you roll over and take off like Mario Andretti. Your little white butt is all I see as you race through the dining room and into the kitchen. Sometimes I crawl after you just to see what you will do. You stop and wait for me with a huge slobbery smile, and then take off again as soon as I bite your butt, squealing with laughter. Another trick we have discovered during naked time is you climbing up onto my lap, turning around, and then putting your head down onto the ground so I can flip your legs over your head. Somersaults, but you don't call them that yet. You just love doing them. You also love biting my nose. I believe it's your way of showing affection. I get it. A little aggressive, but I get it. And then, something your Dad and I love about you, is that a mere piece of string from a fluffy sock can entertain you for almost half an hour. You are definitely my daughter there. I love getting lost in lint.
You laugh out loud every time you see your Dad, no matter what he is doing. And when I lay you down in your crib you roll around doing gymnastics till you find that perfect sweet spot- usually with your butt in the air. You love your lovey. It gets pretty smelly. But timing it's own bath can be quite tricky. I named it Gigi for you. You can change it if you like.
You have a friend. His name is Kasper. When you guys hung out the other day he was super into you and you kept trying to smack him in the face. I think it's again, your way of showing affection. We might need to discuss down the line.
I love you more than I thought was possible.
I miss you every moment I am not with you.
I will always be here for you no matter what.
Mom
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