Voyeurism gone bad

The video monitor is holding me hostage. P-TV is always on and I am a junkie. I need help. Never far from me, I checked the monitor before going to bed last night and there you were, staring right back at me, or past me, it's hard to tell on the video. Regardless, your eyes were open and continued to be so for the next 3 hours!! It drove me crazy, literally. I think I lost my mind a little. Cortisol was coursing through my veins as I wracked my brains trying to figure out what was "wrong." You sat up and cried out once, twice, three times and I bolted down there armed with Advil convinced it was extreme teething even though you were calm as a cucumber in a chilled fridge. I gave you the Advil then of course, just had to nurse you for a bit. As I sat with you in the chair I realized what I was doing. Taking some GIANT steps backwards, nay, leaps. I had to abort my mission. I laid you back down. After another 45 minutes of quietly looking around you fell back asleep. And why do I know this? Not because you were making barely any noise at all- save the three tiny little cries out- but because I was neurotically checking the damned monitor, over and over and over and over and over again. Your poor papa next to me. He was trying to sleep. I was not making it easy for him. I wanted to cry I was so frustrated, with myself. I had lost control.

My instincts are extreme. I believe this has something to do with the "peculiar mental twist" of my recovered yet alcoholic in perpetuity brain. The instinct to want to "soothe" and "calm" my child are perfectly natural and God-given I believe. Mine, however, are just amplified to an unmanageable degree. They cause my body to start moving in your direction before I can stop it. Making me fear if I will ever be able to become the firm but loving mother I so desperately want to be. How will I ever be able to let you make your own mistakes, experiencing failure so you can ultimately experience massive amounts of undulating success? How do I let go, just a little, of this preciousness that is strangling me?

I don't want to smother you. I really honestly don't.

Think it's time to turn off the video monitor and let you be.

Time to cut the visual voyeur cord.

I trust you. I love you.

Mom

To nurse or not to nurse

Apparently I nurse you too much. Is that possible? I can't help it. I love it. It's really the only time I feel like I know what the fuck I am doing. But according to our venerated sleep consultant 6 times a day at 10 months old is too much. I must cut out two feedings. Oy vey. But which two? The problem is I have been bookending your naps with nursing. Well, I don't see it as a problem, but I guess some people do. Some being people who obviously know more than me about this stuff. At first Brandi and I were discussing your finicky eating habits and in lieu of a strategy first decided we would cut out the upon awakening nap. That seemed reasonable enough to me. Made sense that it might make you more enthusiastic about getting the food in your mouth instead of on the floor. I was into it and then suddenly we were talking about getting rid of the pre-nap feed and how hard it might be and that I should not let you cry longer than an hour and if I did to start it half an hour early and at that point things got hazy. She started to sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown. Wha-wha-wha-wha. I tried to make sense of what happened but only ended up saying okay and hanging up. In a daze your Dad tried to ask me what she said. I got flustered and defensive, I couldn't tell him with any amount of clarity what had just happened. So I called her back. Did you really mean get rid of the before nap nursing? Are you sure about this? She was sure. I hung up again. My body felt tingly. A mild panic began to set in. I love that time with you. I don't want to give it up!! It's the only time I get to snuggle your little rambunctious independent ass. I want to hold onto that for as long as I can!! Five hours later I called Brandi back. Stuttering I asked her again, why are we getting rid of the before nap feed? I felt tears welling up behind my eyes. In true Brandi fashion, rapid fire speech, she said that it didn't matter which feed I gave up, I just needed to give one of them up. And if I was still putting her down for her nap drowsy but awake and if she was still putting herself to sleep for naps like she was at night, I could keep that feed and get rid of the other one. Eureka!! I wanted to shout. You got it, is what I said instead. Phew. I could keep my precious pre-nap feed at least for two more months...

When you finally woke up from your second nap, which was a marathon one today, 2 hours P!! I thought I would give it a shot- the NOT nursing you upon awakening. And let me tell you something, it sounds MUCH easier than it really is. You wanted my boob. You really did. And I kept trying to distract you with leaves, and sand, and Cupcake the gay alligator, or Jesus the Latino Puppy, or even Scout the androgynous computer thing you love so much. NOTHING worked. And the whining...and the staring...and the grabbing...I couldn't do it. Not today. Tomorrow...is another day.

If it were up to me, I would nurse you on demand until you were old enough to pay your own bills but that ain't gonna happen for a lot of reasons. Number one being we want to have another baby. That's right. We are that crazy. Go big or go home, right? I hear it's harder to get pregnant while nursing all day and all night. That is where Brandi's expertise comes in. She is a Godsend, really. I can't ever thank her enough for saving our minds and our hearts. Our family is better of because of her help. So I am trusting her with this. By one year the goal is to be nursing you twice a day, before bed and when you wake up. And I know now how hard that is going to be- at least for a day or two.

We'll see.

My little Outsider. Ponygirl..

I love you, you little rebel.

Mom

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

I am reading a book called Parenting with Love and Logic because it came highly suggested by a dear friend. So far, it's great. It talks a lot about decisions, decision making, and how important of a skill that is. I should know. I lack it almost entirely. I don't know why or how it happened but I struggle with not only making a decision, but most certainly keeping it. Is it a commitment issue? I don't know for sure. I do know that when it comes time or me to make a decision, I either draw a complete dear-in-the-headlights blank mind or panic sets in. And by panic, I mean sweaty shaky there-might-be-a-saber-tooth-tiger in the next room kind of panic. It's fucking weird. And it sucks. Ass. Majorly. If there is ANYTHING I can do to help you avoid this ginormous pitfall of a character defect, by God you bet I will. So you will be making many decisions starting early on. But only between 2 things, at first. And I hope to God that when you get old enough, you are so well versed in them, a decision making ninja, that when the time comes to get into that car with that drunk teenage driver or snort a line of whatever that substance is just because they are snorting it or have sex with him just because he wants you to you will be able to make a good decision, good meaning having the inner strength to say no to any or all of it. Something I never had the strength for.

Plagued by a thousand forms of insecurity, they still rule my life. Just today I had to employ some jedhi mind tricks to get out of a self-pitying insecure crazy making funk. This stupid voice in my head kept telling me lies about myself and others. And I really wanted to believe it because in some weird way, I must get something out of believing these lies, or I wouldn't do it. There is some strange satisfaction out of feeling really shitty about myself. It's like wearing a snuggie, I suppose. Awkward but comfortable. Familiar and embarrassing. Thank God I have enough wherewithal to see the fustily of this and immediately started reaching out to the Bigger Than Me Than LIfe Than Anything out there, begging for new thoughts, new direction, a new voice. In my head. I call that praying. Then I closed my teary eyes, took three deep breaths- all while breastfeeding you in the car outside of Trader Joe's while Dad shopped, by the way- and let the self deprecating mantra roll for about 20 seconds before repeating the word TALK over and over and over. Because that is all that is, TALK. It is not real. It is not true. None of it. It's only the Theatre of the Lie trying to keep me stuck in it's dramatic web. I don't want to be stuck anymore. I want to be free. Freedom. How free do you want to be???

I want you to be free, so free Pony P.

Free of these manacles of self.

Free to decide.

Right now you are sleeping curled up like a little ladybug in your ladybug pajamas while your Dad naps on the couch and I stuff my face with a bag of blue corn chips trying to make sense of an insensible mind. Thoughts are things and they are also NOT things. The wisdom to know the difference, and the courage to decide between the two, that is the serenity I want, for me and you.

I love you Bug.

Mom

Compromise

So we did it, we "sleep trained" you. I gave in, I had to. I couldn't go on the way we were, 5-6 times a night, up and down those stairs. So I compromised with your Dad, I said I would do it if we hired Brandi, a sleep consultant from The Cradle Company. and boy am I glad we did! She has been amazing. She's the Baby Sleep Whisperer as far as I am concerned. Although it has been almost 14 nights since we started, and in some sleep training worlds that would sound ridiculous, but for us, it has been perfect. Never once did it feel traumatic or torturous. It has been a tedious, yet gentle glide the entire time. A lot of work, but I was willing to do it and the results are remarkable. In bed the last two nights by 6:30pm, asleep by 7 and save one dream feed around 10:30 not a peep until 7am. WOW!! I, on the other hand, was up from 4:30-5:30 sweating my ass off wondering if this was real or not. I guess not breastfeeding you all night is causing some hormonal displacement. Don't mess with hormones!!

I just wanted to give you an update. I don't have much time to write or be pithy right now so I'll get to the point in other matters.

You LOVE walking with the wooden alligator push cart. It's by far your favorite thing to do. A close second might be eating and throwing sand out of your sand box. And a third would be after your naps, when I pick you up in my arms, you look back down into your crib until I have grabbed all your loveys and you have them in your arms, squished together. It makes you laugh as we gaze out the window at the white butterflies flitting by. If you see papa and I give each other a kiss, then you'll give each of us one. It's pretty darn cute. Although you will smooch and roll on the floor with Scout. You can't get enough of that fella. Your ardor is infectious. And rhythm- you got it! Especially for reggae, blues, or Indie Rock. Swaying your torso like a brazilian dancer.

I am so proud of you. I love you endlessly.

I'll send pics soon.

When I get home.

I'm supposed to be working now. All I want to do is go home and play with you.

Mom

Marathon runners

Every night we run a marathon together, you and me, Pony P. I start out with so much confidence, such high hopes, maybe tonight, it will be different. But then it happens, 30, 60, 90 minutes after I've laid down my weary head, up pops yours and out comes your barbaric yelp. In that moment, my body does some strange things. My tummy flips, my heart palpitates, the skin between my boobs begins to sweat, and a wave of dread washes over me.
No, please, no. Go back to sleep, P. Go back to sleep...Please don't make me go dawn there.
I hold my breath, waiting the suggested 5 minutes that feel like fifty while you continue to cry out. By 3 minutes I've had enough. I turn on the video monitor lighting up our darkened bedroom. Your Dad sleeps next to me, seemingly oblivious. There you are, standing up, holding onto the bars of your crib cell, demanding some attention. How can I resist? The sooner I nurse you the sooner I can fall back asleep. That is my logic. It makes perfect sense to me. Especially around midnight when I've barely begun to dream.

Down the creaking old stairs I go, creaks I am sure you know by heart. Your Dad and I have found the loudest ones, we avoid them like skilled gymnasts. In front of your door, I take a deep breath, and in I go. You always scream when you see me, out of relief, anger, fear, I never know. I pick you up breathing you in nuzzling your neck while your little arms wrap around mine. I love this moment. I love how tightly you hold on, I love the sound of your breath in my left ear. I tell you how much I love you as I sit down on the nursing chair swinging your warm body around and onto my lap sideways. You frantically search for the holy grail, my nipple, and once you find it, a tiny sigh escapes your lips before you latch on for dear life. And that, my love, is the moment when it all makes sense. In that moment, as we rest into each other, no matter how tired, annoyed, frustrated, or delirious I am, I can't help being overcome with this incredible wave of gratitude and sheer joy in the simple weight of you, in my arms. I close my eyes and feel our bellies breathing in and out together. Sometimes I wrap my fingers around your chubby warm feet or kiss your roving hand.

And then I thank God for you your Dad this life. And I really mean it.

When you've been satiated, I sit you up, you arch your back, and it's up and away back into your crib. Potato Bug. Creeping out the door and carefully negotiating the stairs, I think to myself how they use the sound of babies crying to train Navy Seals and lack of sleep as torture and I say to myself-

I would make a horrible Navy Seal but a damn good hostage.

As I lay my head back down on my now chilled pillow next to your warm Dad, I look at the clock, realizing, fuck, if this is a GOOD night, there will only be 3 or 4 more of these to go.

It's only the beginning of a long long night. We haven't even reached the half way mark yet. A word comes to mind.

Endurance.

I can endure, more than most, and I'm not sure that is always such a good thing. Some think I am mad for enduring this so long. Our marathon of sleep issues. But I could probably go on forever. Or at least I always think so when I am finally back in bed and you are asleep once more.

But then it starts up again, sometimes 30 minutes later, the cry, the shakes, the stairs, the bliss. And I am in the thick of it again. However, once 5:30am rolls around, I know I'm near the end. I can almost taste the finish line. The marathon is over. Your Dad is next. It's his turn. I nurse you one last time, sighing as I hit my pillow. And go deep deep deep.

Funny thing is, when I finally do wake up and see your beautiful little face, I forget all of it.

And I'm ready to run again.

Potato Bug

We have a new little routine, it seems. When I am nursing you to sleep and it's clear that you are finished and ready for bed, you arch your body back while grabbing your lovey as I stand up from our nursing chair and you stay arched until I lay you stretched out like that in your crib, then immediately you curl up into a little ball as you roll over onto your stomach and pull your little legs up and underneath you like a little potato bug rolling in on itself, and in that way do you stay.

I love it. It is so endearing.

The flowers are beginning to bloom in the backyard and your father is watching an Obama rally in Ohio. We are watching our president speak. He is an incredible orator. He is also our first, and hopefully not last, black president. I really like Hillary Clinton as well, she almost became our first female president, close, but no cigar...not yet, at least. Maybe you can be president too? Why not.

We went to Descanso Gardens today where you watched some storytelling and then you crawled around in the grass for an hour chasing squirrels with a teething biscuit in your mouth.

After we got home you pushed your buddies Scout the talking dog, Jesus the beanie dog, and Cup Cake the gay alligator around.

After dinner you discovered a new purpose for a lid.

You are thoroughly entertaining P. It never is a dull moment with your brilliance in our lives.

I wish I had more profound insights for you but unfortunately all I can think about is how much my back hurts from carrying you in the carrier on our hike with Dada and Noodle today. I feel old, honey. My left hip is also aching and my right foot. I'm not sure we can continue doing that. It might have to be stroller only time. Ugh. You don't like the stroller. And it's a great stroller! It's the Bob Utility. It's completely awesome for trail running, of which I have done ZERO since I got pregnant with you. No, I lied. I have gone twice in almost two years. Ha. But the stroller is almost useless when it comes to running errands. It's a bull in a china shop. The front wheel is locked so turning is a bitch. But whatever. I still love the damn thing, even if you don't. I had fantasies of us running trails together but unfortunately, apparently, you don't like being in it for too long, and inevitably either Angella or myself end up having to carry you at the end of our "walks." Not so fun for us, by the way. Considering Baby #2 I became OBSESSED with the Britax B-ready last week. I saw some woman with it at the Farmer's Market and couldn't stop my stroller envy from leaking out like sticky icky goo. She could swivel and turn on a dime. When I looked it up at home it has 14 possible different double stroller configurations!! What the hell?? Who needs that many? Maybe I do? Do I? I have no idea. I have never had two babies before. Or a baby and a toddler, I should say. Maybe you both will hate the stroller and we'll just have to hump you two around like cable till your 10. If it didn't cost almost a thousand dollars, which is an inconceivable amount of money to spend on a stroller, I might have purchased it already. As it is, I am lusting from afar. But don't worry- I am not giving up on the Bob. I will never give up on the Bob. One of you kids is going to love running with me in that thing whether you like it or not, I swear to God. Never give up the dream!!

Speaking of dreams, two of mine have been resurrected lately- I'll share them with you since you are listening.

1) running an Ultra Marathon someday.

2) getting my bachelors and possibly masters/teaching credential at Antioch University (if money were no object.)


That's it. We'll see what happens. For now I will stay present and enjoy the heck out of you, your Dad, and this wonderful life we have of which I GET to be a part of.

I can't believe my damn good luck sometimes. It really blows me away.

Love,

Mom