I've been thinking about writing a post for a few days now but have come up with a bunch of excuses. I know, though, deep down that the real reason is because I feel inclined to write something about the Connecticut tragedy of last Friday, yet I am frightened to even go there. I decided I need to get past that fright, because writing about it will be therapeutic. And there's a lot I've thought about as a "rookie mom" as all of this has been unwinding. Being a mother has put a new black and dreary spin on things as I hear and see the images of grief- stricken parents. I feel tightness in my chest, tears in my eyes, horror in my heart for these people. They've lived the unimaginable, the unthinkable. And why do people say that-- that it's "unimaginable" when, actually, we all could imagine something like this happening? It's got to be because when we start to imagine it, we become so jolted, so crippled in fear, so overcome with anxiety that we have to stop giving it the remotest bit of attention. Yet, in the wake of what occurred, I find myself still giving it a lot of my attention and I'm not totally sure why.
This morning on the drive to work I heard an NPR interview with the mom of a little boy who was killed on Friday. She described the horror of Friday and her subsequent current grief. She said her surviving children are already in counseling because she's too broken to help them right now. The outpouring of words of comfort and acts of kindness has helped, she said, during this interview that took place at the site of the town's vigil. But her voice cracked, and her words were very drawn- out, almost in monotone. This was the shell of a woman, I could tell. She said she frantically arrived at the scene on Friday and found her two daughters (one of whom is a twin sister to the boy who passed) in the company of some local emergency workers. She looked for her son but was already throwing up, over and over again, she said, because she knew he was dead. She just knew. It was intuition. And her life would never be the same.
I've been walking this fine line for days now--- the line of too much media exposure to this tragedy. I know myself by now, and I know that seeing and hearing specifics means I will ruminate on them, reflect on them, even dream of them at night. I will cry for the kids whose faces I've now seen in pictures. I'll picture their empty bedrooms, and their bikes in the garage. I'll hear the voices of their siblings ask when they're coming home, and the parents saying over and over that they're not. I'll envision the dads and moms sitting up in the cold, dark night bawling their eyes out so hard that they're choking. But I can't help but think and picture and envision. To imagine the unimaginable. I guess maybe it seems unfair that I should get to turn the TV off when these parents can't turn anything off. They have to suffer, so avoiding things feels irresponsible. I feel I should learn about what happened, and learn of these kids' legacies because it's what's right to do-- to be part of this big entwined world we are a part of called the human condition. Why should I get to go on my merry way? I found myself cursing out radio stations that were playing music and telling jokes as usual yesterday morning. They seemed so irreverent. But then I realized maybe I am the one who is irreverent in not understanding that people all grieve differently, and for a lot of people, they can't function unless they turn it off. Imagining the unimaginable is simply too much. While I am somehow finding some help and aid and comfort in hearing and seeing things, a lot of people need to compartmentalize and move on.
Perhaps part of my need to see and hear more and more is because I am a teacher AND a mom; there are two ways in which I can imagine the unimaginable. Two reasons for which I can do the whole "what if" thing. Two huge parts of my life that cause me to want to piece all this together and figure out what the world means and what it's all coming to. Two realms I feel I am supposed to protect. Two arenas that are precious. I'm not one of those people, as I've referenced in previous posts, who thinks that moms or parents are special as compared to the rest of the population. Being a mom was a decision and it's a responsibility and it perhaps further connects me to some possible fears and griefs. But I'm not going to sit here and type that only parents can understand the magnitude of what happened on Friday. That is preposterous. Anyone with family or even one friend he or she cares about can conceive of the horror and terror that would ensue in a massive loss like this. So I'm not saying momhood makes me special. Or that being a teacher makes me somehow more connected to what happened either. But it's made my imagination of the unimaginable more sharp, more keen, more scary. It's made my inner peace more shaken. My daily life less mundane and more terrifying. My feeling of any iota of control much, much less.
In discussing the tragedy with my students, a few of them told me they didn't understand how school could become a place to fear. And how the world could be so unsafe, and so sad. They wanted to know when they would start to feel better and how. And one young lady talked about Alice Walker's gorgeous essay "Human Sunrise." She later sent me a link to the text, and here's the part I absolutely adore:
"We
are rising all over the globe now, in this most terrible of times for
Earthlings and for our Home planet. People everywhere are moving,
joining each other, plotting and planning how we may protect and provide
for the challenges of the Age. Still, there are, and will be, days of
incredible depression and distress as we encounter the hard truths of
the suffering of the Earth and her Creatures. There are abominations
occurring on our planet that I’m convinced would have been unimaginable
in the Buddha’s lifetime. They are unimaginable even in my own lifetime –
and I have actually encountered some of them. The horrible genocide,
the incessant war and war mongering, the dropping of bombs on the poor;
the starving, deliberately, of children. The greed. The mutilation,
cannibalism and enslavement forced on people who are at the mercy of
weaponry and force wielded by people they’ve never even seen.
And I say to that: When it is all too much; when the news is so bad
meditation itself feels useless, and a single life feels too small a
stone to offer on the altar of Peace, find a Human Sunrise. Find those
people who are committed to changing our scary reality. Human sunrises
are happening all over the earth, at every moment. People gathering,
people working to change the intolerable, people coming in their robes
and sandals or in their rags and bare feet, and they are singing, or
not, and they are chanting, or not. But they are working to bring peace,
light, compassion, to the infinitely frightening downhill slide of
Human life."
And so I am trying to decide to imagine human sunrises now as I ruminate on, reflect on, and sometimes even obsess over what has happened. Countering the bad with human sunrise thoughts won't fix everything. As a teacher, as a mom, as a human, I feel spiritless, weak, and alone when I think about the horrors of our world that only seem to worsen. But I know that if I don't try-- if I don't continue to teach my students in the best ways I can, and if I don't continue to show Mabel the beauty and greatness of the world-- then not only have I failed myself, then I've failed the human sunrises, and the people who have left the world too soon.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Old... or Not?
I'm feeling old lately. I don't mean to be whiny; in fact, I haven't even decided yet whether feeling old is a bad thing. So for now, it's just a fact. One might suggest this post has been spurred by the fact that I turn 34 this month. But I don't think 34 is old at all-- when I hear of my friends turning 34 or even older, it doesn't even faze me. And my feeling old seems not to do with the number so much as it does have to do with a feeling.
I was a single girl, living on my own and supporting myself fully for a few years after I got divorced from my first marriage until I moved in with J in August of 2011. During that time, I got used to my own ways-- plopping my bag right smack in the middle of the living room floor after work, reclining on the couch, and making dinner when I felt like it. When I had a lot of work to do, I would drink unhealthy amounts of coffee so I could stay up later. I'd go sit at the Coolidge Corner Panera often, comfortably recumbent in the chair next to the fireplace, and grade papers while listening to my iPOD. On the walk home, I might stop in at one of the local shops and browse. On the weekends (and sometimes during the week), I would enjoy cocktails with friends and sometimes spend massive amounts of money on meals out at fantastic restaurants. Even though doctors counsel people to sleep about the same amount each night, my sleep "pattern" (or lack thereof) was all over the place-- 4 hours one night, 12 hours the next. I didn't have anyone to answer to. And when J and I were first dating, he lived in CT and I lived here. I was truly on my own, and sometimes my habits and inclinations were unhealthy, but I lived the way I wanted to and I wasn't hurting anyone else.
Since we've had Mabel, everything has become, by the very nature of parenthood, scheduled. We feed Mabel on a schedule, and her early morning wake- ups entail scheduled sleep for us too. (This is where I am agape again at how teen parents do all this....) We plan activities in ways that will enable naps, or at least allow for something akin to a nap. If we go out alone, we are chained to the schedules of willing babysitters. While my words might be painting a bleak picture, neither J nor I really minds this way of life. I'm just trying to draw the distinction between now and back in my single days.
So, have the patterns and routines and schedules made me feel older? Knowing that I can't really drink when I go out, unless I want to hate myself the next day when we are up early entertaining the little one, has made dinners and other adventures out with friends vastly different. I still go--and I will ALWAYS make at least SOME time for me, my friends, and some laughs. But living way out in the burbs-- a good 50 minutes from the city-- has made trips out with city- dwelling buddies more sparse. Still, even this "scheduledness" doesn't seem to key into why I feel old. Or not completely anyway.
I think my newfound feeling has more to do with being less adventurous, less risk- taking. I'm nervous to eat poorly and get clogged up arteries. I spend less money on whimsical things because I know the dough should go to home improvements and stuff for Mabel. Even when Mabel isn't in the car, I still tend to drive like a nana. I don't ever stay up late anymore-- ever. I fear too much what the next day will be like for me. J and I make dinner by 6pm every night. No more lazy, do- it- when- you- feel- like- it around our house.
I know that motherhood has changed me, because if J and I didn't have Mabel, we would probably still be driving over to JP Lick's for ice- cream at 10:30pm on a work night. And if I hadn't met J, I would probably still be walking over to "The Coolidge" for a Monday night movie showing of "The Kids Are All Right," complete with my diet coke and buttery popcorn for one. I'd be spending money on cabs and glasses of wine, because, well, why wouldn't I continue to enjoy life? But it's weird how life changes without even making a real decision. I never actively said, "No more caffeine at night." Or "you need to be a safer driver." It all just happened.
J and I joke a lot about how lame and super- duper boring we have become. (One recent Sat night he went to bed at 6:45pm- no joke.) It's easy to sort of "blame" the baby. But Mabel never made a set of ground rules for us either. All of this evolution of sorts just occurred. I'm not going to close this entry with a sappy sentiment like, "I wouldn't have it any other way!" or "Parenthood is worth it all!", because of course it is. Duh. Mabel is the most awesome, fabulous, fantastic, wicked cool thing to ever be bestowed on me-- goes without saying. She has made my life more fun, goofy, and special all at the same time. And right there lies the irony-- while my life might seem less fun, and I may feel older, I'm actually more in the thick of daily fun than I ever have been before. People often says babies change you. Yes, they do. But they don't have to change who you are. Deep down, I am the same caffeine- swigging, last- minute- grocery- buying gal I always was; I just am in a stage where I have decided to make my life easier by making some changes. Mabel didn't force unfair change upon me; I guess I must have decided how parenting needed to be for me, and we decided as a couple how it needed to be for J and me. I guess if we are old farts, then we are still a couple of fun ones-- just on hiatus from our original modes of fun and into a new territory for a while.
I was a single girl, living on my own and supporting myself fully for a few years after I got divorced from my first marriage until I moved in with J in August of 2011. During that time, I got used to my own ways-- plopping my bag right smack in the middle of the living room floor after work, reclining on the couch, and making dinner when I felt like it. When I had a lot of work to do, I would drink unhealthy amounts of coffee so I could stay up later. I'd go sit at the Coolidge Corner Panera often, comfortably recumbent in the chair next to the fireplace, and grade papers while listening to my iPOD. On the walk home, I might stop in at one of the local shops and browse. On the weekends (and sometimes during the week), I would enjoy cocktails with friends and sometimes spend massive amounts of money on meals out at fantastic restaurants. Even though doctors counsel people to sleep about the same amount each night, my sleep "pattern" (or lack thereof) was all over the place-- 4 hours one night, 12 hours the next. I didn't have anyone to answer to. And when J and I were first dating, he lived in CT and I lived here. I was truly on my own, and sometimes my habits and inclinations were unhealthy, but I lived the way I wanted to and I wasn't hurting anyone else.
Since we've had Mabel, everything has become, by the very nature of parenthood, scheduled. We feed Mabel on a schedule, and her early morning wake- ups entail scheduled sleep for us too. (This is where I am agape again at how teen parents do all this....) We plan activities in ways that will enable naps, or at least allow for something akin to a nap. If we go out alone, we are chained to the schedules of willing babysitters. While my words might be painting a bleak picture, neither J nor I really minds this way of life. I'm just trying to draw the distinction between now and back in my single days.
So, have the patterns and routines and schedules made me feel older? Knowing that I can't really drink when I go out, unless I want to hate myself the next day when we are up early entertaining the little one, has made dinners and other adventures out with friends vastly different. I still go--and I will ALWAYS make at least SOME time for me, my friends, and some laughs. But living way out in the burbs-- a good 50 minutes from the city-- has made trips out with city- dwelling buddies more sparse. Still, even this "scheduledness" doesn't seem to key into why I feel old. Or not completely anyway.
I think my newfound feeling has more to do with being less adventurous, less risk- taking. I'm nervous to eat poorly and get clogged up arteries. I spend less money on whimsical things because I know the dough should go to home improvements and stuff for Mabel. Even when Mabel isn't in the car, I still tend to drive like a nana. I don't ever stay up late anymore-- ever. I fear too much what the next day will be like for me. J and I make dinner by 6pm every night. No more lazy, do- it- when- you- feel- like- it around our house.
I know that motherhood has changed me, because if J and I didn't have Mabel, we would probably still be driving over to JP Lick's for ice- cream at 10:30pm on a work night. And if I hadn't met J, I would probably still be walking over to "The Coolidge" for a Monday night movie showing of "The Kids Are All Right," complete with my diet coke and buttery popcorn for one. I'd be spending money on cabs and glasses of wine, because, well, why wouldn't I continue to enjoy life? But it's weird how life changes without even making a real decision. I never actively said, "No more caffeine at night." Or "you need to be a safer driver." It all just happened.
J and I joke a lot about how lame and super- duper boring we have become. (One recent Sat night he went to bed at 6:45pm- no joke.) It's easy to sort of "blame" the baby. But Mabel never made a set of ground rules for us either. All of this evolution of sorts just occurred. I'm not going to close this entry with a sappy sentiment like, "I wouldn't have it any other way!" or "Parenthood is worth it all!", because of course it is. Duh. Mabel is the most awesome, fabulous, fantastic, wicked cool thing to ever be bestowed on me-- goes without saying. She has made my life more fun, goofy, and special all at the same time. And right there lies the irony-- while my life might seem less fun, and I may feel older, I'm actually more in the thick of daily fun than I ever have been before. People often says babies change you. Yes, they do. But they don't have to change who you are. Deep down, I am the same caffeine- swigging, last- minute- grocery- buying gal I always was; I just am in a stage where I have decided to make my life easier by making some changes. Mabel didn't force unfair change upon me; I guess I must have decided how parenting needed to be for me, and we decided as a couple how it needed to be for J and me. I guess if we are old farts, then we are still a couple of fun ones-- just on hiatus from our original modes of fun and into a new territory for a while.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Brawny Little Thing
We've been quite busy as of late in our house, doing over a couple of rooms, and I am finding myself exhausted. I have learned one- hundred times over that child- rearing is an incredibly tiring daily exercise, albeit an awesome one. Mabel is so energized, so courageous and brawny, and so curious lately that we find ourselves completely pooped at night. J went to bed at 6:45, right after Mabel did, the other night. We've given whole meaning to the term "old farts." House projects combined with child care makes for two witchy and tired parental units.
Mabel is on the go now at an unprecedented degree. She stands easily, and now makes her way down a surface, say the couch, for instance, by taking steps bigger than she should. Every now and then she falls; she seems to look to us to see how she should react, and naturally we smile and tell her she's just fine. Other times, she'll take a giant leap and step from, say, her Pack 'n' Play to the couch. She seems to really get a kick out of taking steps but definitely can't walk yet. I've been reading that around 9 months (which she's just past) babies are way more brawn than brains; they no longer look before they leap because they are so excited with their new- found strength. The best thing lately has been Mabel's dance moves. I know they dance and do Zumba at day care, but since Mabel can't walk or even stand without holding on, I assume she just watches and marvels at the big kids. But every time we put music on, Mabel either bounces up and down, or does this amazingly cute shoulder back- n- forth move, which also entails bopping her head along. I can't take any credit for this habit-- but I sure am grateful for T for teaching it to her. J and I laugh SO hard!
Choosiness is another new trait for Mabel. She's become more particular than ever before, which isn't always fun for us. "No, I don't WANT to read 'My First Book of Colors' right now-- I want 'I Like Bugs' " is an example of what she seems to bellow. We try to keep her busy and distracted while feeding her (she's definitely NOT choosy when it comes to food, which we are loving), and sometimes she really lets us know what she wants to do while eating-- from playing with one of her spoons to reading to mashing up yogurt chips. And doing any one activity for too long is not cool in her book. She will enjoy her "car" or her Pack 'n' Play or her doorway jumpy for bits of time and then wants new scenery. It's amazing that she can be smiling and giggling it up one second then reaching up to one of us to be "rescued" in the next moment. And Mabel now, at most times of day anyway, it choosy about how she is held-- wants to face outward toward the world. She puts all her strength into contorting her body and turning it around while she is in someone's arms. It's rather hilarious.
We've also got clapping and lots of laughing going on, which we adore, but the exhaustion comes in with the chasing. We've got a couple gates up, but there are still various places even within a room we don't love Mabel to go toward. Making all this more challenging is the fact that we are stripping wallpaper and priming and sanding and painting walls in a bathroom and in her play area and the living room. We had to completely quarantine her play area, which before was a godsend because it contained nothing unsafe and we could just gate her up in there. She's confined to the living room now, and there are multiple exits, and little routes toward windows and other places we would prefer her not to head toward. Mabel ALWAYS seeks the most dangerous places. J has a joke that we could put a million dollars in front of her or a knife, and she would go to the knife. We lay out toys upon toys and all she wants is the remote control, one of our iphones, or a wire or lamp. It's incredible. I have to assume this curiosity is a good thing, and it's nice she wants to see and do new things. But we get run pretty ragged and I just can't WAIT for our remodeling. designing to be over. As of now, we have made a religion out of picking up gluey wallpaper pieces and various paint chips. I swear we vacuum daily, but it's to no avail. And then the irony is that the stopping to satiate her and keep her safe pauses the projects and stretches them out. Is it nuts that today I was excited to come to work so Mabel could go to T's house and be back in the safe zone with lots to do?
Regardless, we are enjoying witnessing Mabel's little personality being formed. She's still a happy baby, even with the gross teething she has going on. She loves people and dogs, and is still obsessed with Elmo (we are not holding it against the puppet that his puppeteer is apparently a child molester-- argh!). We see each and every day more ways in which Mabel becomes Mabel-- it's something I never understood before but am royally loving!
Mabel is on the go now at an unprecedented degree. She stands easily, and now makes her way down a surface, say the couch, for instance, by taking steps bigger than she should. Every now and then she falls; she seems to look to us to see how she should react, and naturally we smile and tell her she's just fine. Other times, she'll take a giant leap and step from, say, her Pack 'n' Play to the couch. She seems to really get a kick out of taking steps but definitely can't walk yet. I've been reading that around 9 months (which she's just past) babies are way more brawn than brains; they no longer look before they leap because they are so excited with their new- found strength. The best thing lately has been Mabel's dance moves. I know they dance and do Zumba at day care, but since Mabel can't walk or even stand without holding on, I assume she just watches and marvels at the big kids. But every time we put music on, Mabel either bounces up and down, or does this amazingly cute shoulder back- n- forth move, which also entails bopping her head along. I can't take any credit for this habit-- but I sure am grateful for T for teaching it to her. J and I laugh SO hard!
Choosiness is another new trait for Mabel. She's become more particular than ever before, which isn't always fun for us. "No, I don't WANT to read 'My First Book of Colors' right now-- I want 'I Like Bugs' " is an example of what she seems to bellow. We try to keep her busy and distracted while feeding her (she's definitely NOT choosy when it comes to food, which we are loving), and sometimes she really lets us know what she wants to do while eating-- from playing with one of her spoons to reading to mashing up yogurt chips. And doing any one activity for too long is not cool in her book. She will enjoy her "car" or her Pack 'n' Play or her doorway jumpy for bits of time and then wants new scenery. It's amazing that she can be smiling and giggling it up one second then reaching up to one of us to be "rescued" in the next moment. And Mabel now, at most times of day anyway, it choosy about how she is held-- wants to face outward toward the world. She puts all her strength into contorting her body and turning it around while she is in someone's arms. It's rather hilarious.
We've also got clapping and lots of laughing going on, which we adore, but the exhaustion comes in with the chasing. We've got a couple gates up, but there are still various places even within a room we don't love Mabel to go toward. Making all this more challenging is the fact that we are stripping wallpaper and priming and sanding and painting walls in a bathroom and in her play area and the living room. We had to completely quarantine her play area, which before was a godsend because it contained nothing unsafe and we could just gate her up in there. She's confined to the living room now, and there are multiple exits, and little routes toward windows and other places we would prefer her not to head toward. Mabel ALWAYS seeks the most dangerous places. J has a joke that we could put a million dollars in front of her or a knife, and she would go to the knife. We lay out toys upon toys and all she wants is the remote control, one of our iphones, or a wire or lamp. It's incredible. I have to assume this curiosity is a good thing, and it's nice she wants to see and do new things. But we get run pretty ragged and I just can't WAIT for our remodeling. designing to be over. As of now, we have made a religion out of picking up gluey wallpaper pieces and various paint chips. I swear we vacuum daily, but it's to no avail. And then the irony is that the stopping to satiate her and keep her safe pauses the projects and stretches them out. Is it nuts that today I was excited to come to work so Mabel could go to T's house and be back in the safe zone with lots to do?
Regardless, we are enjoying witnessing Mabel's little personality being formed. She's still a happy baby, even with the gross teething she has going on. She loves people and dogs, and is still obsessed with Elmo (we are not holding it against the puppet that his puppeteer is apparently a child molester-- argh!). We see each and every day more ways in which Mabel becomes Mabel-- it's something I never understood before but am royally loving!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Voting, Teething, and Standing
Yup, all three of those activities have taken place in Mabel's life this week. Ok, so she herself didn't technically vote, but she came along for the ride. It was our first time voting in our new precinct, and, having to bring an infant with us, we were especially grateful for no lines. I heard some folks waited up to two hours at polling stations around the country. Talk about patience being a virtue...
In addition to accompanying Dad and Mom at the polls on Tuesday, Mabel also cut two teeth. One appeared on Monday, really, but was more visible on Tuesday, when it met another pearly white friend. I know I have horrible eye sight, and I'm also not the most observant person in the world, but I am still unconvinced these teeth are "in" despite hearing so from both the day care provider and J. I see white, but if that's what a cut tooth looks like-- well, it just is not what I pictured. Still, an exciting day in Mabel's infanthood!
Yesterday, about halfway through my work day, I received a text from T (day care provider) with a picture of Mabel standing inside a Pack 'n' Play. That's right, folks-- the girl can pull herself into standing. It's been quite hilarious watching her attempt this skill over the past month or so. She mastered kneeling a few weeks back, and since then, she has tried ever so diligently to get one foot flat, thus pushing up the leg, and then the other leg. Despite her 'can- do" attitude (as evidenced by repeated attempts) she just didn't have the strength to push those legs upward. When she did do it at day care, T said she was quite proud of herself, beaming and giggling, and refusing to nap. Little stinker. (Poor T-- Mabel is good fighting naps as it is-- now it's only going to be worse!)
To give her some practice, we set up her Pack 'n' Play in the living room last night. This set- up is actually key because we have begun stripping wallpaper in Mabel's playroom, so she can't go in there for a few weeks. Thus, now we can plop her in the Pack 'n' Play with some toys, and she can just goof around or try her acrobatics. Last night she was tired from her day, and gave standing the old college try a few times but ultimately whined for help. I came over and pulled her into standing, and once again she was happy as a lark, up on her two feet and watching TV, while keeping a watchful eye on Mom and Dad.
These baby milestones are fun. But what is interesting about them is that you can go weeks without a new talent/ skill/ habit, and then three things can happen in a day or a week. I have a love- hate relationship with that What to Expect in the First Year book, as the monthly milestones are cool to read about and prepare for, but if your kid doesn't do them exactly as projected you freak out. For example, teething-- Mabel is nearly 9 months old and just got a couple teeth. Some babies teeth at 3 or 4 months. And then there is the ambiguous language-- 'Your baby may be...' and 'Your baby will probably be...' and 'Your baby might even...'. Um, okay- so how do I know what's normal, exactly? I've decided to read these chapters but take them with a grain of salt, using the pediatrician as the true judge of progress. Mabel has done a bunch of stuff early, a few things later than projected, and then most right in that 'Your baby will probably be...' range. No matter what source you use, it's neat to see the milestones unfold on their own, as each baby is different. This week, J and I turn our gaze to Mabel's pull- ups, teeth, claps, throws/ flings, and happy shrieks. Been a cool ride!
In addition to accompanying Dad and Mom at the polls on Tuesday, Mabel also cut two teeth. One appeared on Monday, really, but was more visible on Tuesday, when it met another pearly white friend. I know I have horrible eye sight, and I'm also not the most observant person in the world, but I am still unconvinced these teeth are "in" despite hearing so from both the day care provider and J. I see white, but if that's what a cut tooth looks like-- well, it just is not what I pictured. Still, an exciting day in Mabel's infanthood!
Yesterday, about halfway through my work day, I received a text from T (day care provider) with a picture of Mabel standing inside a Pack 'n' Play. That's right, folks-- the girl can pull herself into standing. It's been quite hilarious watching her attempt this skill over the past month or so. She mastered kneeling a few weeks back, and since then, she has tried ever so diligently to get one foot flat, thus pushing up the leg, and then the other leg. Despite her 'can- do" attitude (as evidenced by repeated attempts) she just didn't have the strength to push those legs upward. When she did do it at day care, T said she was quite proud of herself, beaming and giggling, and refusing to nap. Little stinker. (Poor T-- Mabel is good fighting naps as it is-- now it's only going to be worse!)
To give her some practice, we set up her Pack 'n' Play in the living room last night. This set- up is actually key because we have begun stripping wallpaper in Mabel's playroom, so she can't go in there for a few weeks. Thus, now we can plop her in the Pack 'n' Play with some toys, and she can just goof around or try her acrobatics. Last night she was tired from her day, and gave standing the old college try a few times but ultimately whined for help. I came over and pulled her into standing, and once again she was happy as a lark, up on her two feet and watching TV, while keeping a watchful eye on Mom and Dad.
These baby milestones are fun. But what is interesting about them is that you can go weeks without a new talent/ skill/ habit, and then three things can happen in a day or a week. I have a love- hate relationship with that What to Expect in the First Year book, as the monthly milestones are cool to read about and prepare for, but if your kid doesn't do them exactly as projected you freak out. For example, teething-- Mabel is nearly 9 months old and just got a couple teeth. Some babies teeth at 3 or 4 months. And then there is the ambiguous language-- 'Your baby may be...' and 'Your baby will probably be...' and 'Your baby might even...'. Um, okay- so how do I know what's normal, exactly? I've decided to read these chapters but take them with a grain of salt, using the pediatrician as the true judge of progress. Mabel has done a bunch of stuff early, a few things later than projected, and then most right in that 'Your baby will probably be...' range. No matter what source you use, it's neat to see the milestones unfold on their own, as each baby is different. This week, J and I turn our gaze to Mabel's pull- ups, teeth, claps, throws/ flings, and happy shrieks. Been a cool ride!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Baby's First Hurricane
This week, the Northeast endured the devastation of Hurricane Sandy. It's probably unfair to New Jerseyans and New Yorkers to refer to the damage in MA as devastation, as they are experiencing HORRIFIC damage-- still, even five days later. Roads are closed, power it still largely out, and people even lost homes and cars. Residents are competing to get the rations of gas available at gas stations. Entire sections of NYC were evacuated and later flooded. My brother, a Manhattan resident, was given a rental car and sent up to Boston to work from his company's MA office since the NYC office is out of commission for a while. It's hard to fathom that even in the technology area our lives can still be so thwarted by the powers of Mother Nature.
Up here. we had more typical tropical storm effects-- some flooding, some trees down, and a lot of power outages. In our house, power was down for about 29 hours. I wasn't sure how it would be experiencing a hurricane with an 8- month- old, but it ended up being sort of funny.
Mabel slept through the windy night, despite the howling, and even a few times when I will swear the house shook. Being only 8 months, she obviously had no idea what a power outage meant. I completely sympathized with my friends who have toddlers. I'm sure it is a test of one's patience to be met with the whines of, "But I WANNA watch Thomas the Tank Engine! Make that TV work!" Or, "Why isn't my food hotttttt?" You poor things, parents of tikes. You have my commiseration.
Mabel was instead almost creepily obsessed with the flicker of candle flames. She stared at them for what seemed like hours. Eventually, she seemed annoyed that she couldn't see well, clumsily bumping into her playsets and toys, unable to find her blocks and stuffed animals. J had fetched, in addition to candles and a couple of flashlights, his fishing headlight, which the wearer dons on his or her head in order to see the rocks and waves and sands ahead. Jokingly, J attached the headlight to Mabel's head. She immediately had a blast, scooting all over the house getting into anything she could shine her new- found light upon.
When we removed the headlight, Mabel even fussed a bit. But she was tuckered out from her adventures and slept well, even though I did not. I kept thinking the window panes would blow in, cutting our sweet baby's soft skin. I am nuts. I admit this.
The other fun piece of all this was Mabel's fascination with Catch Phrase. In boredom, J and I whipped out the board/ battery- powered games. Catch Phrase is a mutual favorite. Mabel shrieked and laughed with joy every time one of us hit "start" and the game piece would beep and light up. Mental note for the future: if Mabel is bored or fussy, give her Catch Phrase. Here were J and I, bored silly and on the brink of going to sleep even untired just for something to do, but Mabel could not have been more entertained by that silly thing. It was a good reminder that simple things can be fun. I've become altogether too reliant on technology and TV. I needed the wake- up call.
Up here. we had more typical tropical storm effects-- some flooding, some trees down, and a lot of power outages. In our house, power was down for about 29 hours. I wasn't sure how it would be experiencing a hurricane with an 8- month- old, but it ended up being sort of funny.
Mabel slept through the windy night, despite the howling, and even a few times when I will swear the house shook. Being only 8 months, she obviously had no idea what a power outage meant. I completely sympathized with my friends who have toddlers. I'm sure it is a test of one's patience to be met with the whines of, "But I WANNA watch Thomas the Tank Engine! Make that TV work!" Or, "Why isn't my food hotttttt?" You poor things, parents of tikes. You have my commiseration.
Mabel was instead almost creepily obsessed with the flicker of candle flames. She stared at them for what seemed like hours. Eventually, she seemed annoyed that she couldn't see well, clumsily bumping into her playsets and toys, unable to find her blocks and stuffed animals. J had fetched, in addition to candles and a couple of flashlights, his fishing headlight, which the wearer dons on his or her head in order to see the rocks and waves and sands ahead. Jokingly, J attached the headlight to Mabel's head. She immediately had a blast, scooting all over the house getting into anything she could shine her new- found light upon.
When we removed the headlight, Mabel even fussed a bit. But she was tuckered out from her adventures and slept well, even though I did not. I kept thinking the window panes would blow in, cutting our sweet baby's soft skin. I am nuts. I admit this.
The other fun piece of all this was Mabel's fascination with Catch Phrase. In boredom, J and I whipped out the board/ battery- powered games. Catch Phrase is a mutual favorite. Mabel shrieked and laughed with joy every time one of us hit "start" and the game piece would beep and light up. Mental note for the future: if Mabel is bored or fussy, give her Catch Phrase. Here were J and I, bored silly and on the brink of going to sleep even untired just for something to do, but Mabel could not have been more entertained by that silly thing. It was a good reminder that simple things can be fun. I've become altogether too reliant on technology and TV. I needed the wake- up call.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Another Snapshot in Time
Last week, I had the yearly 'Parents' Night' at the school where I teach. Thirteen years into teaching, I don't get as worried or anxious as I used to, but I still become a little antsy about meeting all these parents and giving them an effective presentation about what goes on in my class. This was the first year I attended the night as a mom myself, and I've got to say it was a little different. Never before had I thought how anxious the parents themselves might be on a night like this, and never before had I really wondered what it must be like to go to this thing for the 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th year in a row as the parent of a high school kid.
One of the moms I've met a few times before, as I had her two elder daughters and this year teach her son. She stayed for a few minutes after to chat, and to catch me up on the girls and how they are doing in college. She asked me a little about Mabel, and, with a very serious look in her eye, demanded, "Make sure you write down EVERYTHING she does and when. I hate that I didn't do it for all my kids, and only for the youngest."
Years ago, you'd literally need to write things down, in a baby book, or on a tablet or something. We're lucky to have blogs in 2012 for this very purpose. I could tell this woman meant more than to jot down Mabel's first word, first step, and first tooth. She meant to record the little sounds she makes, and the first time she wore a pair of tights, or giggled at a TV show, or turned a page in a book herself. She meant for me to write things down that would really let me have a solid snapshot in time of Mabel. Admittedly, I haven't done this enough. I think I've written only a couple blogs of this nature, and so today, here goes:
Mabel is STILL in love with Elmo. And now it's not just Elmo, but any character with big eyes and a whacky voice on Sesame Street. She will stop dead in her tracks and turn her head around or upward to watch these little monsters. Sometimes it appears she's concentrating very hard on the show, and at other times, she just laughs. She's also delightfully entertained by her books, but these days wants to grab at them, and almost beat the pages like you would a drum. She can flip the pages but with a very cute lack of grace and coordination.
Mabel "military crawls" all over the place, and with more velocity than you'd expect. Lately, she has also been lifting her bum in the air a bit more, as if to do a true crawl soon. Yet, many babies never crawl this way and go straight to walking, so we will see what she decides. She's desperate to pull herself up, but doesn't quite have the strength. We give her little boosts, and once she is standing, usually up against the couch, she goes nuts with joy, and then becomes adventurous trying "look ma, no hands" and "let me walk to the right and to the left a little." It's important, therefore, for J and I not to go too far!
Mabel wants very much to remove that thing under the fridge that looks like it may just be there for cosmetic purposes-- that shield thing that covers the teeny space between bottom of fridge and floor. It's of course not really clean, though, and we are repeatedly guiding her away. This behavior is just one example of her tendency to go for the dangerous stuff. We have baby- proofed the house now, but Mabel is still curious about wires and plugs and vases. Put ten toys in front of her and she will crawl to the one wire in her visibility.
On the eating front, the little lady is now onto Cheerios-- as of yesterday, that is. She's got cereal; pureed fruits, veggies, and meats; and of course formula down. Water she drinks through the sippy, which she still doesn't quite grasp, no pun intended. The funny thing is that she is obsessed with HOLDING the sippy, but the deluge of water that drips out (it's not really a deluge, but that's what you would think from Mabel's face) seems overwhelming. Still, we get her to drink her good old H20.
Mabel is just barely into 6- 9 month size clothes. Lengthwise, she needs them, for the most part. Width- wise, the clothes are swimming on her little peanut body. She has mastered sneakers, dress shoes, and boots-- only kicking them off about half the time which is a BIG improvement from her younger days.
In terms of sounds, Mabel makes an array. None that resemble a Mama or Dada yet, but one that sounds remarkably like "Heyyy!" and a whole mess of babbles-- vowel and consonant mixes. She babbles a lot in the morning, and a good deal when she's eating. Her newest funny move when it comes to sound: blowing raspberry sounds while eating, causing the food to spray. Hard to get mad when it's so cute. Mabel laughs heartily-- at this silly "Hi- hiiiii" bit I do, and at Joe's dance moves and his dramatic sneeze bit. And sometimes unexpected and seemingly weird things just make her roar.
Other tid- bits: Mabel still smiles a lot, often at strangers but especially at her nearest and dearest peeps; still sleeps in the car a lot but sometimes just gazes or plays with car seat toys; sleeps around 11 hours per night, mostly on her side; wakes in the morning and makes, at first, cute coos, but then whines if we don't come get her; is often on all 4's in crib when we come get her, and many times at the opposite end of the crib from where she had been; screams and yells in delight which can be sweet or annoying (ha); according to T, makes profound efforts to keep up with the mobility of the bigger kids at day care by scooting herself around while they walk; seems to have the closest "connection" (they babble at each other all day) with a boy we will call Marc at day care; enjoys bouncing in the doorway jumper and Jumperoo; is sort of over her playmat and bouncy chair :( ; loves her high chair; enjoys time in regular stroller and jogger but often falls asleep; pulls at glasses and hair; tries to scratch our faces when feeding on a bottle- ouch!; takes a bath in the real tub now and loves it minus the initial loud sound of water pouring down; giggles at being tickled; rubs eyes like a madwoman when sleepy; drools but doesn't seem to have a tooth yet.
Over all, 7.5 months has been a blast. Really loving this age! Hope I will love looking back at verbal snapshots.
One of the moms I've met a few times before, as I had her two elder daughters and this year teach her son. She stayed for a few minutes after to chat, and to catch me up on the girls and how they are doing in college. She asked me a little about Mabel, and, with a very serious look in her eye, demanded, "Make sure you write down EVERYTHING she does and when. I hate that I didn't do it for all my kids, and only for the youngest."
Years ago, you'd literally need to write things down, in a baby book, or on a tablet or something. We're lucky to have blogs in 2012 for this very purpose. I could tell this woman meant more than to jot down Mabel's first word, first step, and first tooth. She meant to record the little sounds she makes, and the first time she wore a pair of tights, or giggled at a TV show, or turned a page in a book herself. She meant for me to write things down that would really let me have a solid snapshot in time of Mabel. Admittedly, I haven't done this enough. I think I've written only a couple blogs of this nature, and so today, here goes:
Mabel is STILL in love with Elmo. And now it's not just Elmo, but any character with big eyes and a whacky voice on Sesame Street. She will stop dead in her tracks and turn her head around or upward to watch these little monsters. Sometimes it appears she's concentrating very hard on the show, and at other times, she just laughs. She's also delightfully entertained by her books, but these days wants to grab at them, and almost beat the pages like you would a drum. She can flip the pages but with a very cute lack of grace and coordination.
Mabel "military crawls" all over the place, and with more velocity than you'd expect. Lately, she has also been lifting her bum in the air a bit more, as if to do a true crawl soon. Yet, many babies never crawl this way and go straight to walking, so we will see what she decides. She's desperate to pull herself up, but doesn't quite have the strength. We give her little boosts, and once she is standing, usually up against the couch, she goes nuts with joy, and then becomes adventurous trying "look ma, no hands" and "let me walk to the right and to the left a little." It's important, therefore, for J and I not to go too far!
Mabel wants very much to remove that thing under the fridge that looks like it may just be there for cosmetic purposes-- that shield thing that covers the teeny space between bottom of fridge and floor. It's of course not really clean, though, and we are repeatedly guiding her away. This behavior is just one example of her tendency to go for the dangerous stuff. We have baby- proofed the house now, but Mabel is still curious about wires and plugs and vases. Put ten toys in front of her and she will crawl to the one wire in her visibility.
On the eating front, the little lady is now onto Cheerios-- as of yesterday, that is. She's got cereal; pureed fruits, veggies, and meats; and of course formula down. Water she drinks through the sippy, which she still doesn't quite grasp, no pun intended. The funny thing is that she is obsessed with HOLDING the sippy, but the deluge of water that drips out (it's not really a deluge, but that's what you would think from Mabel's face) seems overwhelming. Still, we get her to drink her good old H20.
Mabel is just barely into 6- 9 month size clothes. Lengthwise, she needs them, for the most part. Width- wise, the clothes are swimming on her little peanut body. She has mastered sneakers, dress shoes, and boots-- only kicking them off about half the time which is a BIG improvement from her younger days.
In terms of sounds, Mabel makes an array. None that resemble a Mama or Dada yet, but one that sounds remarkably like "Heyyy!" and a whole mess of babbles-- vowel and consonant mixes. She babbles a lot in the morning, and a good deal when she's eating. Her newest funny move when it comes to sound: blowing raspberry sounds while eating, causing the food to spray. Hard to get mad when it's so cute. Mabel laughs heartily-- at this silly "Hi- hiiiii" bit I do, and at Joe's dance moves and his dramatic sneeze bit. And sometimes unexpected and seemingly weird things just make her roar.
Other tid- bits: Mabel still smiles a lot, often at strangers but especially at her nearest and dearest peeps; still sleeps in the car a lot but sometimes just gazes or plays with car seat toys; sleeps around 11 hours per night, mostly on her side; wakes in the morning and makes, at first, cute coos, but then whines if we don't come get her; is often on all 4's in crib when we come get her, and many times at the opposite end of the crib from where she had been; screams and yells in delight which can be sweet or annoying (ha); according to T, makes profound efforts to keep up with the mobility of the bigger kids at day care by scooting herself around while they walk; seems to have the closest "connection" (they babble at each other all day) with a boy we will call Marc at day care; enjoys bouncing in the doorway jumper and Jumperoo; is sort of over her playmat and bouncy chair :( ; loves her high chair; enjoys time in regular stroller and jogger but often falls asleep; pulls at glasses and hair; tries to scratch our faces when feeding on a bottle- ouch!; takes a bath in the real tub now and loves it minus the initial loud sound of water pouring down; giggles at being tickled; rubs eyes like a madwoman when sleepy; drools but doesn't seem to have a tooth yet.
Over all, 7.5 months has been a blast. Really loving this age! Hope I will love looking back at verbal snapshots.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Genetics - --Way Cool!
At many points in my life, I have found myself astounded with the power of genetics. I still don't get (despite good biology teachers and countless high school and college science lessons on DNA, and the double helix, and genetic make- up, and chromosomes, and all that other neat gene- related stuff) how traits are passed on. Science has always been hard for me visualize (if I can't see the atom or the vector or the molecule, how can I suppose what it's doing?), even though I think many scientific concepts are incredibly cool. But how do little cells end up making me look just like my dad but with my mom's eyes? And how is it that I have some of the same idiosyncrasies, like waving my foot back and forth when I am nervous, that my dad has? And how is it that teeny tiny cells made it that I have the same crazy worries and anxious neuroses that my mom does? Finally, and most awesomely, how is it that people on my father's side tell me that when I laugh, it reminds them of my grandfather, whom I never met? "You have definitely inherited his sense of humor," they say, which I take to be a compliment, but how is it that it just HAPPENED because of science? Genetics are effing amazing. Truly.
Since Mabel has been with us, my astonishment at genetics has doubled. Most people say she is a spitting image of her dad. She even has his and his brother's signature dimples, which were visible on the day of her birth. Mabel laughs and smiles at strangers (clearly a trait of her dad's, who is friendly and personable all the time) and has her dad's fun temperament much of the time, yet evidence that she is her mom's daughter shines through when she gets easily flustered over dropping a toy (makes a ticked off sound-- very cute, actually). She wakes up here and there in the night and fusses for a moment, but she always gets herself back to sleep-- this is me; I wake multiple times per night, and eventually get myself back to my zzz's despite being quite disconcerted at first. And earlier this month, Mabel had a faucet- like drippy nose, but no cough; alas, she appears to have Mom's fall allergies. She gets a kick out of J's funny Elmo voice, and roars laughing at the silliest of sounds and faces both live and on TV (her dad, here). Mabel is, in spite of her looking only like her dad, a true mix of us.
The whole mix concept is crazy when you really think about the fact that for 9 months, a pregnant lady's body is "cooking" the baby, and all the while both looks and personality and forming. So much of what we are is predetermined and we are hard- wired. It took me a long time to accept that personalities are as they are, and we're often born to feel one way or another, and react to things in one way or another. I agonize all the time over the thought of Mabel becoming the Worry- Wart that I am, but I hope that my awareness of it will help her to manage it better than I do.
I see these same genetic melanges in my friends' babies too. For instance, my best friend's baby (who is my god- daughter) looks for the most part like her dad, but when she makes certain faces and grins I 100 % see her mom's side of the family. It's unmistakable! She has the fun, easygoing spirit that both her mom and dad have, and it's been so neat to watch her traits emerge.
As a teacher, I think about genetics a lot in terms of my students too. It's horrible to admit, but too often I have said, "Jane is Sam's sister?! What?! He was such a horrible student!" When I've thought about it later, I have realized that the genes from Mom and Dad that have been passed down of course wouldn't do so in the same way with each kid. Why would we EVER expect siblings to be alike, really? Of course, nurture plays a role, and nature isn't the only factor in how a kid develops. Most kids with good manners tend to have siblings who do as well. But their cores, their inner- workings differ a lot, as they should!
J and I are quite similar in some ways, and totally opposite in others. We have nearly identical taste in music and movies, in our political views, and in how we envision our futures. We like to do a heck of a lot of the same stuff too. But J is happy- go- lucky and worries when he needs to. He prefers mathematical problems and tasks that require spatial reasoning skills to reading extensively or writing anything of length. I, on the other hand, pre- worry about everything, for J, Mabel AND myself. (This difference between us makes us well- suited for each other, as we tend to "cancel each other out." It's sooo wonderful to have your mate help you calm down when you need to, and help you lighten up when the situation dictates. And I like to think I aid him in thinking of little details and obligations that he may not have.) And I love to write (duh) but can't put together a basic baby gate. Thank goodness for genetics, and for the mix of traits that our children will develop. It's exciting observing the little one and saying, 'She gets that from so- and so.' Big shout- out to science, and genetics, and all that cool DNA stuff I could never visualize back then but can now see before my eyes in the form of Mabel.
Since Mabel has been with us, my astonishment at genetics has doubled. Most people say she is a spitting image of her dad. She even has his and his brother's signature dimples, which were visible on the day of her birth. Mabel laughs and smiles at strangers (clearly a trait of her dad's, who is friendly and personable all the time) and has her dad's fun temperament much of the time, yet evidence that she is her mom's daughter shines through when she gets easily flustered over dropping a toy (makes a ticked off sound-- very cute, actually). She wakes up here and there in the night and fusses for a moment, but she always gets herself back to sleep-- this is me; I wake multiple times per night, and eventually get myself back to my zzz's despite being quite disconcerted at first. And earlier this month, Mabel had a faucet- like drippy nose, but no cough; alas, she appears to have Mom's fall allergies. She gets a kick out of J's funny Elmo voice, and roars laughing at the silliest of sounds and faces both live and on TV (her dad, here). Mabel is, in spite of her looking only like her dad, a true mix of us.
The whole mix concept is crazy when you really think about the fact that for 9 months, a pregnant lady's body is "cooking" the baby, and all the while both looks and personality and forming. So much of what we are is predetermined and we are hard- wired. It took me a long time to accept that personalities are as they are, and we're often born to feel one way or another, and react to things in one way or another. I agonize all the time over the thought of Mabel becoming the Worry- Wart that I am, but I hope that my awareness of it will help her to manage it better than I do.
I see these same genetic melanges in my friends' babies too. For instance, my best friend's baby (who is my god- daughter) looks for the most part like her dad, but when she makes certain faces and grins I 100 % see her mom's side of the family. It's unmistakable! She has the fun, easygoing spirit that both her mom and dad have, and it's been so neat to watch her traits emerge.
As a teacher, I think about genetics a lot in terms of my students too. It's horrible to admit, but too often I have said, "Jane is Sam's sister?! What?! He was such a horrible student!" When I've thought about it later, I have realized that the genes from Mom and Dad that have been passed down of course wouldn't do so in the same way with each kid. Why would we EVER expect siblings to be alike, really? Of course, nurture plays a role, and nature isn't the only factor in how a kid develops. Most kids with good manners tend to have siblings who do as well. But their cores, their inner- workings differ a lot, as they should!
J and I are quite similar in some ways, and totally opposite in others. We have nearly identical taste in music and movies, in our political views, and in how we envision our futures. We like to do a heck of a lot of the same stuff too. But J is happy- go- lucky and worries when he needs to. He prefers mathematical problems and tasks that require spatial reasoning skills to reading extensively or writing anything of length. I, on the other hand, pre- worry about everything, for J, Mabel AND myself. (This difference between us makes us well- suited for each other, as we tend to "cancel each other out." It's sooo wonderful to have your mate help you calm down when you need to, and help you lighten up when the situation dictates. And I like to think I aid him in thinking of little details and obligations that he may not have.) And I love to write (duh) but can't put together a basic baby gate. Thank goodness for genetics, and for the mix of traits that our children will develop. It's exciting observing the little one and saying, 'She gets that from so- and so.' Big shout- out to science, and genetics, and all that cool DNA stuff I could never visualize back then but can now see before my eyes in the form of Mabel.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
When Politics Go to the Bad Place
I want to take a post to reflect on something not related to Mom stuff: the current political brouhaha. Actually, I suppose anything relevant to the future of the country does affect Mabel, and therefore is mom- related. But even if not, I feel the need to vent.
I am all for lively political debate, and even jokey political banter, in the spirit of respect and kindness. What I'm NOT down with is the mean, nearly bullying political warfare that makes its way to Facebook and even daily life.
A registered Independent, I make my way through the mire of each election by evaluating my priorities as a voter, and then matching the candidates' views to mine. 9 times out of 10, this process has me voting for the Democrat, but I can say with utter truth that I don't vote blindly. I actually voted for Mitt Romney as governor of Massachusetts. I'm not so far left that I fail to do my research.
What seems to be happening this year, and more so than in in any other election year that I can recall, is that people are downright mean to each other. I miss the days when Facebook was a true social network-- when I could log on and see pictures of someone's recent trip to London, or read a funny quip, or open a link to a cool New York Times article. I miss reading respectful political discussion. And I miss not feeling edgy and anxious upon logging on, fearing what I will see today.
Statuses that refer to "Liberal Union F*cks" (the expletive being used as a noun and therefore as a monicker) or that make the claim that "Democrats boo God" are not only absurd but offensive. And it goes the other way too. Not all right- wingers are Tea Party extremist racists. I'm so sick of the polarizing and labeling.
I watched the debate last night and, sure enough, was greeted this morning by a host of Facebook statuses relevant to it. A few were witty and respectfully reactionary; others were biting, mean, incendiary. Part of the beauty of a democracy is that we don't have to agree, and using scare tactics or bigotry is NOT going to "win" people to your side. Most people know whom they are voting for by now. Your Facebook status will do little to reform anyone's thinking. And the mean- spiritedness of some of the comments is counter- productive to what it means to be a citizen of a free nation.
The other concept with which I take issue is making claims that are just plain wrong. For instance, I recently read a status that read that "Liberals are in favor of killing babies even after they are born." I think said poster needs a civics lesson on what the "right to choose" means. And just because a voter favors the right to choose, it doesn't even mean that s/he is in favor of abortion personally. It means that s/he doesn't believe in governmental intervention of a woman's body. It means that the voter recognizes scenarios in which a safe abortion may be a better alternative to bearing the baby (ie, in the case of rape).
I have family members who are distinctively pronounced Republican Conservatives, and some who are vehement Liberal Democrats. I respect them all. Choosing a political party is an awesome right granted to us. But when folks begin to judge the other party with cruel invectives and inappropriately skewed (and sometimes false) claims, I have to say I no longer respect you. Some of the comments I have read and heard as of late are of a bullying nature. I was recently informed that my voting for a Democrat made me favor "death and the enemy" instead of "life and the lord." This comment is mean. You don't know me or my religious beliefs. I'm not an agnostic, and, guess what, a lot of people who lean to the left are not!
I am a voter who tends to gear my priorities toward social issues. I am a teacher, a public servant, who will never make a lot of money. Issues of the economy don't concern me too much when, frankly, neither candidate has a totally feasible plan. Both seem pie- in- the- sky. The financial issues are what they are because of years and years of various fiscal conditions and happenings; neither party is fully to blame, and neither can fix it entirely. Thus, I tend to think about our lives as citizens of the US-- what we can do legally, and what our everyday existence can or will entail. The rigmarole over taxes does matter, yes, but, really, taxes won't be very different a year from now no matter who wins. What I DO care about are the rights of the people around me: specifically, the right to a contented life, with benefits and privileges granted equally regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or race. The idea that some folks want to keep loving, committed people from marrying is more than absurd to me: it is anti- American. And refusing to allow for science to advance via stem cell research-- this seems ignorant. Finally, preventing a woman from regulating her body is, to me, intrusive and totalitarian. I cannot often support conservative candidates for these reasons. Yet, I am a God- fearing, respectful individual who can only imagine that conservatives take their value set as seriously as I do. And so while I disagree, I will not fear- monger, or call them names, or make them feel like non- citizens. That's my political soap- box, and as I watch Mabel grow, I only hope to instill in her a basic respect for others, no matter if she chooses to go left or right.
I am all for lively political debate, and even jokey political banter, in the spirit of respect and kindness. What I'm NOT down with is the mean, nearly bullying political warfare that makes its way to Facebook and even daily life.
A registered Independent, I make my way through the mire of each election by evaluating my priorities as a voter, and then matching the candidates' views to mine. 9 times out of 10, this process has me voting for the Democrat, but I can say with utter truth that I don't vote blindly. I actually voted for Mitt Romney as governor of Massachusetts. I'm not so far left that I fail to do my research.
What seems to be happening this year, and more so than in in any other election year that I can recall, is that people are downright mean to each other. I miss the days when Facebook was a true social network-- when I could log on and see pictures of someone's recent trip to London, or read a funny quip, or open a link to a cool New York Times article. I miss reading respectful political discussion. And I miss not feeling edgy and anxious upon logging on, fearing what I will see today.
Statuses that refer to "Liberal Union F*cks" (the expletive being used as a noun and therefore as a monicker) or that make the claim that "Democrats boo God" are not only absurd but offensive. And it goes the other way too. Not all right- wingers are Tea Party extremist racists. I'm so sick of the polarizing and labeling.
I watched the debate last night and, sure enough, was greeted this morning by a host of Facebook statuses relevant to it. A few were witty and respectfully reactionary; others were biting, mean, incendiary. Part of the beauty of a democracy is that we don't have to agree, and using scare tactics or bigotry is NOT going to "win" people to your side. Most people know whom they are voting for by now. Your Facebook status will do little to reform anyone's thinking. And the mean- spiritedness of some of the comments is counter- productive to what it means to be a citizen of a free nation.
The other concept with which I take issue is making claims that are just plain wrong. For instance, I recently read a status that read that "Liberals are in favor of killing babies even after they are born." I think said poster needs a civics lesson on what the "right to choose" means. And just because a voter favors the right to choose, it doesn't even mean that s/he is in favor of abortion personally. It means that s/he doesn't believe in governmental intervention of a woman's body. It means that the voter recognizes scenarios in which a safe abortion may be a better alternative to bearing the baby (ie, in the case of rape).
I have family members who are distinctively pronounced Republican Conservatives, and some who are vehement Liberal Democrats. I respect them all. Choosing a political party is an awesome right granted to us. But when folks begin to judge the other party with cruel invectives and inappropriately skewed (and sometimes false) claims, I have to say I no longer respect you. Some of the comments I have read and heard as of late are of a bullying nature. I was recently informed that my voting for a Democrat made me favor "death and the enemy" instead of "life and the lord." This comment is mean. You don't know me or my religious beliefs. I'm not an agnostic, and, guess what, a lot of people who lean to the left are not!
I am a voter who tends to gear my priorities toward social issues. I am a teacher, a public servant, who will never make a lot of money. Issues of the economy don't concern me too much when, frankly, neither candidate has a totally feasible plan. Both seem pie- in- the- sky. The financial issues are what they are because of years and years of various fiscal conditions and happenings; neither party is fully to blame, and neither can fix it entirely. Thus, I tend to think about our lives as citizens of the US-- what we can do legally, and what our everyday existence can or will entail. The rigmarole over taxes does matter, yes, but, really, taxes won't be very different a year from now no matter who wins. What I DO care about are the rights of the people around me: specifically, the right to a contented life, with benefits and privileges granted equally regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or race. The idea that some folks want to keep loving, committed people from marrying is more than absurd to me: it is anti- American. And refusing to allow for science to advance via stem cell research-- this seems ignorant. Finally, preventing a woman from regulating her body is, to me, intrusive and totalitarian. I cannot often support conservative candidates for these reasons. Yet, I am a God- fearing, respectful individual who can only imagine that conservatives take their value set as seriously as I do. And so while I disagree, I will not fear- monger, or call them names, or make them feel like non- citizens. That's my political soap- box, and as I watch Mabel grow, I only hope to instill in her a basic respect for others, no matter if she chooses to go left or right.
Monday, October 1, 2012
A Whole Lotta STUFF
I went to a sweet, sweet baby shower for one of my dearest friends
yesterday. Her family made it so special and personalized-- giraffe and
monkey (her nursery theme) cake, cake pops, pretzel sticks, and cookies
(delicious, and I should know, as I consumed ALL of the aforementioned
treats). The food was plentiful and tasty, and the company was
fantastic. And the gift pile was ginormous, which is a true reflection
of how much people love and are happy for my friend J and her husband. I
know for a fact they are going to make great parents, and they already
love their little nugget to bits. As I looked at the gift pile,
everything that was going to make the couple's lives easier upon their
baby's arrival, it got me thinking--- there is so much gear available!
The baby "stuff" market is a profitable one! And it got me nostalgic
about when we were designing our registry for (what would be) Mabel.
We had one-hundred percent, absolutely, positively NO idea what we were doing. If it weren't for the guidance of my already- mom friends, Mabel would've been profoundly lacking in the "stuff" department. We spent a good portion of our first trip to the baby store giggling at products called "Anti- Monkey Butt" and "Butt Paste." I didn't know what a playmat was, let alone that it's nearly a necessity for tummy- time (and I didn't know what tummy- time was either). I had no idea that babies prefer wipes warmed in a handy- dandy little pod. And I definitely didn't know the difference between a snap n' go stroller and a non. Mabel's godmother gave me a superbly helpful book called Baby Bargains, which outlined products and rated said products according to price and quality. It was this book, and frequent advice seeking from friends, that got us a workable and useful registry list. I still don't know what some of the products are that show up on those annoyingly constant Amazon Mom emails.
But while we needed lots of things, from keeping Mabel pacified to feeding and resting her, there's also a heck of a lot out there that you really don't need, though the shops would have you think otherwise. What a racket this industry is. J and I could have been millionaires if we had thought of the extra head support thingy for the car seat (which, btw, is NOT a necessity, or it wasn't for us anyway-- I think we used it for two weeks, and only because we had it). We also definitely didn't need a car seat bundler (this big soft blankety thing that zips up and into the car seat to keep them warm). That focker was 50 bucks and we have literally never used it. A basic, warm blanket does the trick. And then there's the nursery stuff-- I'm so glad people told me not to bother with a diaper stacker (ever heard of a drawer?).
Still, picking stuff out for the arrival of the little one is exciting. And I remember enjoying it very much-- even wasting whole planning periods at work adding to and editing the registry when I should have been grading. I became nearly obsessed with making it just right-- replete with the gear and "stuff" we needed but with no excesses (clothes-- never, ever put clothes on your registry, as people will very kindly drown you in all the baby clothing you need when the bambino/a arrives. And even if they don't, it's way easier to pick up a few onesies at Target than buy your own stroller).
While I definitely was a willing participant in the great hunt for baby this- and- thats, I have to laugh at myself a little. How did people do it before playmats were invented? And before cribs were so"advanced" that they would become toddler beds later? And how did people POSSIBLY clean bottles without a dishwasher basket and bottle brushes? What did these absolute neanderthals do without a lightweight foam tub that conforms to the sink? I mean, how did they get by?!
I'm not coming down on anyone, because I fell into it too. But the baby gear craze is funny when you think about it. It's downright hilarious! We want the best for our kids, so of course we feel inclined toward the best products. But what if a bad financial situation were to befall us, and we had to just do necessities? Just wash them in the good ole sink with regular wash cloths (not the expensive super- soft ones) and put them on the floor with cheap, used toys, and drive them in the car in the same seat our cousin's kid sat in (I was too nervous to accept a used car seat-- what if it would no longer pass safety guiudelines? Umm, it was two years old, not fifty).
I'm trying hard not to overdo things as Mabel grows, partly because they grow so freaking fast. But there's something about that preparatory time while you're pregnant, when the baby's face is only a vision in your imagination and you want to have everything and anything that this little bundle of cuddles could possibly enjoy. I remember being ticked when a gracious coworker told me, totally in the spirit of helpfulness, that I didn't need at least 8 or 10 things on our registry-- that they were wastes. By that point, I'd spent long, hard time revising the list, and I was excited about every little last thing on it. And we were grateful-- so utterly grateful-- for the unimaginable generosity of our friends and family. We needed to buy almost nothing after our baby showers were over. So, I say, do what your gut tells you! Buy away! Register away! Do it up big- time! And then, a few months later, you'll laugh at some of your purchases, and you'll start scaling back, but you probably won't regret the ones from early on--- that precious time when gearing up for the baby is your world, as it should be.
We had one-hundred percent, absolutely, positively NO idea what we were doing. If it weren't for the guidance of my already- mom friends, Mabel would've been profoundly lacking in the "stuff" department. We spent a good portion of our first trip to the baby store giggling at products called "Anti- Monkey Butt" and "Butt Paste." I didn't know what a playmat was, let alone that it's nearly a necessity for tummy- time (and I didn't know what tummy- time was either). I had no idea that babies prefer wipes warmed in a handy- dandy little pod. And I definitely didn't know the difference between a snap n' go stroller and a non. Mabel's godmother gave me a superbly helpful book called Baby Bargains, which outlined products and rated said products according to price and quality. It was this book, and frequent advice seeking from friends, that got us a workable and useful registry list. I still don't know what some of the products are that show up on those annoyingly constant Amazon Mom emails.
But while we needed lots of things, from keeping Mabel pacified to feeding and resting her, there's also a heck of a lot out there that you really don't need, though the shops would have you think otherwise. What a racket this industry is. J and I could have been millionaires if we had thought of the extra head support thingy for the car seat (which, btw, is NOT a necessity, or it wasn't for us anyway-- I think we used it for two weeks, and only because we had it). We also definitely didn't need a car seat bundler (this big soft blankety thing that zips up and into the car seat to keep them warm). That focker was 50 bucks and we have literally never used it. A basic, warm blanket does the trick. And then there's the nursery stuff-- I'm so glad people told me not to bother with a diaper stacker (ever heard of a drawer?).
Still, picking stuff out for the arrival of the little one is exciting. And I remember enjoying it very much-- even wasting whole planning periods at work adding to and editing the registry when I should have been grading. I became nearly obsessed with making it just right-- replete with the gear and "stuff" we needed but with no excesses (clothes-- never, ever put clothes on your registry, as people will very kindly drown you in all the baby clothing you need when the bambino/a arrives. And even if they don't, it's way easier to pick up a few onesies at Target than buy your own stroller).
While I definitely was a willing participant in the great hunt for baby this- and- thats, I have to laugh at myself a little. How did people do it before playmats were invented? And before cribs were so"advanced" that they would become toddler beds later? And how did people POSSIBLY clean bottles without a dishwasher basket and bottle brushes? What did these absolute neanderthals do without a lightweight foam tub that conforms to the sink? I mean, how did they get by?!
I'm not coming down on anyone, because I fell into it too. But the baby gear craze is funny when you think about it. It's downright hilarious! We want the best for our kids, so of course we feel inclined toward the best products. But what if a bad financial situation were to befall us, and we had to just do necessities? Just wash them in the good ole sink with regular wash cloths (not the expensive super- soft ones) and put them on the floor with cheap, used toys, and drive them in the car in the same seat our cousin's kid sat in (I was too nervous to accept a used car seat-- what if it would no longer pass safety guiudelines? Umm, it was two years old, not fifty).
I'm trying hard not to overdo things as Mabel grows, partly because they grow so freaking fast. But there's something about that preparatory time while you're pregnant, when the baby's face is only a vision in your imagination and you want to have everything and anything that this little bundle of cuddles could possibly enjoy. I remember being ticked when a gracious coworker told me, totally in the spirit of helpfulness, that I didn't need at least 8 or 10 things on our registry-- that they were wastes. By that point, I'd spent long, hard time revising the list, and I was excited about every little last thing on it. And we were grateful-- so utterly grateful-- for the unimaginable generosity of our friends and family. We needed to buy almost nothing after our baby showers were over. So, I say, do what your gut tells you! Buy away! Register away! Do it up big- time! And then, a few months later, you'll laugh at some of your purchases, and you'll start scaling back, but you probably won't regret the ones from early on--- that precious time when gearing up for the baby is your world, as it should be.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Worry- wart
At the risk of sounding like a terrible mom, I'm gonna go ahead and say it... motherhood is exhausting and on some days even seems like a pain. Yup. Go ahead and cast every aspersion on me that you can think of.
But first let me clarify what I mean. Yes, chasing Mabel around now that she's doing her own version of crawling is physically exhausting. On Saturdays and Sundays when I don't have the angel who is the daycare provider to give Mabel her meals, yeah, I do think of the extra labor involved when I have to make the cereal and get the gross apricot- sweet potato substance set into a bowl and then into Mabel's mouth. But I don't hate doing these things. And the physical tasks required by motherhood aren't the exhaustion of which I'm speaking.
I'm instead referring to the constant worry that accompanies parenthood. Now, let me be clear with the caveat that I am a worrier by nature. No; scratch that--- I am an over- the- top, unbridled, no- holds- barred obsesser. It has taken me years to become even sort of okay with this facet of myself. I spent a good portion of my teen years trying to transform myself into a free- spirited, carefree, jocular young lady who couldn't give a shiz what went on. No luck. Then I tried the same pursuit in college. When I was tense and would start picking with my fingernails at the skin on my thumbs, or shaking my foot restlessly, I'd make myself stop and try mantras like, "You're not worried, and you're not a worrier, and this issue doesn't need to be worried about." I'm now 33 and am still up at night, fearing the ramifications of not having a working automatic car starter, and when I'll find time to buy white picture frames, and how I'll get that one pesky lamp shade to look straight. My dreams and nightmares still wake me nightly too, and it's a rare moment I can truly say I feel at peace. (Maybe when I'm getting a massage--- and now I'll worry about remembering to book one, and at which place, and on what day, and what will happen if I'm then late picking up Mabel.)
Eventually, maybe around my 28th year or so, I gave in. I figured out that I could meditate and work out and do yoga and have a glass of wine before bed and schedule "worry times" in the day (yup, one of the thousand books I read suggested it), but after all, I am a worrier. I'm hardwired to be so, and I need to give my mind and body a break and just let myself be. Because ironically, I'm making myself worry more about the fact that I can't calm down.
Well, parenthood has opened the can of worry worms in ginormous dividends. I spent approximately the first six weeks of Mabel's life incessantly nerved up about her very existence: how is it possible that I am in charge of another human? What if she chokes on her milk, on the bottle nipple, on air? What if she's allergic to milk, to the bottle nipple, to air? What if one of us falls asleep on her or near her and she is smothered? What if the marker J is using right now is toxic, and the air becomes poisoned? What if the bar on the stroller gives and she falls right out? What if the crib breaks? What if someone comes through her window in the night and steals her? What if she is blind or deaf and we don't know it? What if I can't EVER stop thinking about these things?
While I've simmered on some of the more egregiously far- fetched fears, I've found new ones as Mabel has grown. Yesterday I worried about what her day care provider would do if a masked man broke into the house and kidnapped everyone. And I worried about the wood in the floor-- what if Mabel licks it while crawling? Is the lacquer safe?
I used to entertain fears similar in their tragic nature (I've been to a couple docs and they call this type of worrying "catastrophizing" and have said it is a prevention mechanism-- a la 'If I worry about it, it won't happen') but these fears were always for myself or J or my other family members. I'd picture J on the rocks while fishing and a huge wave crashing over him, swallowing him up into the deep, dark sea and nobody being around to see or hear, and then nobody being able to find him, and me not even being able to tell the authorities where to look because I didn't know the exact fishing rocks. I'd keep myself up at night with these thoughts.
But worrying about Mabel is different, in that I feel that as her mom, and one of her main caretakers, I'm "supposed to" have these fears and make sure I "fix" everything for her, as well as prevent anything bad from befalling her. Intellectually, I know I can't. I can't predict or create ANYONE's future, my offspring or not. Why is that concept so hard to digest?
Just when I think I'm over a fear, a new one emerges. Last week, I was worried K wasn't making enough consonant sounds. Last night I was scared because it was the first time she ever rejected a food, pursing her lips tight and crying a little, as if to say, "Nooo! I hate this food!" I immediately turned that into a food allergy or a stomach issue.
I have decided that it won't do me or Mabel any good to be an incessant worrier. She needs to live her life, and me, mine. I'm not sure yet how I am going to minimize worries, but I know I have to try. It's funny how the happiest happenings in our lives can also create the most tension, stress, and anxiety. I suppose that means they're worth it.
But first let me clarify what I mean. Yes, chasing Mabel around now that she's doing her own version of crawling is physically exhausting. On Saturdays and Sundays when I don't have the angel who is the daycare provider to give Mabel her meals, yeah, I do think of the extra labor involved when I have to make the cereal and get the gross apricot- sweet potato substance set into a bowl and then into Mabel's mouth. But I don't hate doing these things. And the physical tasks required by motherhood aren't the exhaustion of which I'm speaking.
I'm instead referring to the constant worry that accompanies parenthood. Now, let me be clear with the caveat that I am a worrier by nature. No; scratch that--- I am an over- the- top, unbridled, no- holds- barred obsesser. It has taken me years to become even sort of okay with this facet of myself. I spent a good portion of my teen years trying to transform myself into a free- spirited, carefree, jocular young lady who couldn't give a shiz what went on. No luck. Then I tried the same pursuit in college. When I was tense and would start picking with my fingernails at the skin on my thumbs, or shaking my foot restlessly, I'd make myself stop and try mantras like, "You're not worried, and you're not a worrier, and this issue doesn't need to be worried about." I'm now 33 and am still up at night, fearing the ramifications of not having a working automatic car starter, and when I'll find time to buy white picture frames, and how I'll get that one pesky lamp shade to look straight. My dreams and nightmares still wake me nightly too, and it's a rare moment I can truly say I feel at peace. (Maybe when I'm getting a massage--- and now I'll worry about remembering to book one, and at which place, and on what day, and what will happen if I'm then late picking up Mabel.)
Eventually, maybe around my 28th year or so, I gave in. I figured out that I could meditate and work out and do yoga and have a glass of wine before bed and schedule "worry times" in the day (yup, one of the thousand books I read suggested it), but after all, I am a worrier. I'm hardwired to be so, and I need to give my mind and body a break and just let myself be. Because ironically, I'm making myself worry more about the fact that I can't calm down.
Well, parenthood has opened the can of worry worms in ginormous dividends. I spent approximately the first six weeks of Mabel's life incessantly nerved up about her very existence: how is it possible that I am in charge of another human? What if she chokes on her milk, on the bottle nipple, on air? What if she's allergic to milk, to the bottle nipple, to air? What if one of us falls asleep on her or near her and she is smothered? What if the marker J is using right now is toxic, and the air becomes poisoned? What if the bar on the stroller gives and she falls right out? What if the crib breaks? What if someone comes through her window in the night and steals her? What if she is blind or deaf and we don't know it? What if I can't EVER stop thinking about these things?
While I've simmered on some of the more egregiously far- fetched fears, I've found new ones as Mabel has grown. Yesterday I worried about what her day care provider would do if a masked man broke into the house and kidnapped everyone. And I worried about the wood in the floor-- what if Mabel licks it while crawling? Is the lacquer safe?
I used to entertain fears similar in their tragic nature (I've been to a couple docs and they call this type of worrying "catastrophizing" and have said it is a prevention mechanism-- a la 'If I worry about it, it won't happen') but these fears were always for myself or J or my other family members. I'd picture J on the rocks while fishing and a huge wave crashing over him, swallowing him up into the deep, dark sea and nobody being around to see or hear, and then nobody being able to find him, and me not even being able to tell the authorities where to look because I didn't know the exact fishing rocks. I'd keep myself up at night with these thoughts.
But worrying about Mabel is different, in that I feel that as her mom, and one of her main caretakers, I'm "supposed to" have these fears and make sure I "fix" everything for her, as well as prevent anything bad from befalling her. Intellectually, I know I can't. I can't predict or create ANYONE's future, my offspring or not. Why is that concept so hard to digest?
Just when I think I'm over a fear, a new one emerges. Last week, I was worried K wasn't making enough consonant sounds. Last night I was scared because it was the first time she ever rejected a food, pursing her lips tight and crying a little, as if to say, "Nooo! I hate this food!" I immediately turned that into a food allergy or a stomach issue.
I have decided that it won't do me or Mabel any good to be an incessant worrier. She needs to live her life, and me, mine. I'm not sure yet how I am going to minimize worries, but I know I have to try. It's funny how the happiest happenings in our lives can also create the most tension, stress, and anxiety. I suppose that means they're worth it.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Gate 'er up
We need gates in our house. Period. End of story. Mabel is so mobile now with her army crawl that even the makeshift mound- of- pillows- boundary that J created didn't stop her from, as always, crawling toward the only dangerous things in the room. She could have 12 toys laid out in front of her, but she inevitably heads to the fireplace, or the outlet, or the shelf that holds breakables. And while getting up to chase her is good exercise, we are both willing to give that opportunity up. I'm proud of Mabel for her mobility, curiosity, and resourcefulness, but I'm thinking gates will do a much better job-- structurally and otherwise-- than we do keeping her within safe bounds.
While she's zipping around the floors, Mabel has, unfortunately, been slowed down by what I think is a cold, but perhaps is an attack of fall allergies. She's congested and runny, but she doesn't have a cough yet. Yesterday presented a fun little event, as Mabel contended with the post- nasal drip making its way down her trachea and toward her tummy: she ate her solids (apricots with sweet potatoes) begrudgingly (whining the whole time) but then about twenty minutes later threw them all up. And I don't mean spit them up-- I mean all- out vomited, the poor thing. I feel like an awful mom looking back, strictly demanding that she eat up despite her moaning, because an empty belly at bedtime would only make her feel worse. Here she was, trying to send me a sign-- a pretty clear one at that-- that she did NOT want any more food. And there I was, shoveling it in. I got her upstairs to change her diaper, and as always, she made my job hard (but in the very cutest way) by wriggling and twisting her body all over the place, "singing" all the while. Suddenly, her shirt, naked thighs, the changing pad, and even her hair were puke- covered. This ralphing was powerful. Her hair was so badly assaulted that it began to stand up in a spike. Oh, so now I get it, you really didn't want those sweet potatoes-- and for a good reason...
All I can assume is that the post- nasal drip made actual swallowing and digestion too tough. We got her bathed and cleaned up promptly, and the little angel STILL slept through the night. We have her increased mobility to thank for the all- out exhaustion that comes over Mabel before bed.
J and I plan to get the gates this weekend. I'm foreseeing a clutzy accident, likely involving me, as I try to hurdle said gates. It ought to be funny. Once the gates are up, Mabel's crawl space will be limited which may tick her off, but will also minimize the rug and floor burn she gets on her tummy when we let her scoot naked. It's just the most adorable darn thing seeing her get around the room in only a diaper. Oh, Mabel, you've gotten us again!
While she's zipping around the floors, Mabel has, unfortunately, been slowed down by what I think is a cold, but perhaps is an attack of fall allergies. She's congested and runny, but she doesn't have a cough yet. Yesterday presented a fun little event, as Mabel contended with the post- nasal drip making its way down her trachea and toward her tummy: she ate her solids (apricots with sweet potatoes) begrudgingly (whining the whole time) but then about twenty minutes later threw them all up. And I don't mean spit them up-- I mean all- out vomited, the poor thing. I feel like an awful mom looking back, strictly demanding that she eat up despite her moaning, because an empty belly at bedtime would only make her feel worse. Here she was, trying to send me a sign-- a pretty clear one at that-- that she did NOT want any more food. And there I was, shoveling it in. I got her upstairs to change her diaper, and as always, she made my job hard (but in the very cutest way) by wriggling and twisting her body all over the place, "singing" all the while. Suddenly, her shirt, naked thighs, the changing pad, and even her hair were puke- covered. This ralphing was powerful. Her hair was so badly assaulted that it began to stand up in a spike. Oh, so now I get it, you really didn't want those sweet potatoes-- and for a good reason...
All I can assume is that the post- nasal drip made actual swallowing and digestion too tough. We got her bathed and cleaned up promptly, and the little angel STILL slept through the night. We have her increased mobility to thank for the all- out exhaustion that comes over Mabel before bed.
J and I plan to get the gates this weekend. I'm foreseeing a clutzy accident, likely involving me, as I try to hurdle said gates. It ought to be funny. Once the gates are up, Mabel's crawl space will be limited which may tick her off, but will also minimize the rug and floor burn she gets on her tummy when we let her scoot naked. It's just the most adorable darn thing seeing her get around the room in only a diaper. Oh, Mabel, you've gotten us again!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Ugh, it happened
Hi, everyone. My name is Jojo, and I am addicted to Etsy.
I admit to many senseless obsessions in my life-- the Kardashians probably the most egregious. (No matter how I try to justify that addiction as something more than plain old enjoyment, it still just is what it is. No, it's not "an insatiable but intellectual curiosity for how the undeservedly wealthy live life." It's just a pathetic relishing of the escapades of the K clan.) But my newest addiction is a shopping site-- insert eye- roll. No, it's not Amazon (though I do my fair share of "browsing" there too-- which almost always ends up with a package on the porch and would explain my HAVING to have Amazon Prime even though now we have to pay for it).
Etsy is, in case you are unfamiliar with it, a crafters' community. It's also worldwide. Artists and crafters sell their work-- from jewelry to housewares to furniture to notebooks to gardening tools. I've always liked Etsy, as is evidenced by my jewelry and place mats I so love. But now that we have Mabel, Etsy has become a dangerous behemoth of an addiction. I might need to block myself from it soon. Doesn't Yahoo offer some program that does that? Or isn't there an app?
While I'm definitely expressing disdain for and a little embarrassment about my addiction, I must also say it makes me feel good to buy from artists. A lot of the people who run Etsy shops do so as their sole means of income. And their stuff is simply gorgeous.
I think at the heart of my new addiction is a bit of envy. A former jewelry- maker (though I don't fancy myself NEARLY as talented as most of the Etsy shopowners I've perused) and dabbler in home- made wall hangings and home crafts, I wish I had it in me to build the motivation to start my own Etsy shop. I think if I worked hard enough on honing in on one craft, I could maaaaaaybe pull it off, and that's a double- bolded, capitalized, and italicized "maybe." I'd be horrible with upkeep, and I'd get anxious and would fall into a frenzy if my orders began to proliferate faster than I could fill them. I'd be messy with paperwork too. And I wouldn't begin to know how to run the financial aspect. Don't even get me going on the sheer terror that would ensue if a package were to get lost or someone hated my product.
So, since I'm not with- it enough to start my own Etsy site, I will continue to stalk and purchase from others. I was stopped in my tracks last night, though, when I realized I'd bought too many things for Mabel's room. Her room doesn't have enough walls. Nor does her play room. I need an Ets- ervention.
The interesting thing about this new habit is that I've never really had what some call a "shopping problem." I buy clothes and shoes when I need them. I've never had to cut up a credit card. And I've never had to keep myself away from a mall (contrarily, I HATE malls). So why this now? Once I figure this issue out-- and what it says about me-- I'll catch you up. For now, I need to at least stay away from Etsy until my most recently purchased products arrive and I figure out how to hang them without making Mabel's room into a collage.
I admit to many senseless obsessions in my life-- the Kardashians probably the most egregious. (No matter how I try to justify that addiction as something more than plain old enjoyment, it still just is what it is. No, it's not "an insatiable but intellectual curiosity for how the undeservedly wealthy live life." It's just a pathetic relishing of the escapades of the K clan.) But my newest addiction is a shopping site-- insert eye- roll. No, it's not Amazon (though I do my fair share of "browsing" there too-- which almost always ends up with a package on the porch and would explain my HAVING to have Amazon Prime even though now we have to pay for it).
Etsy is, in case you are unfamiliar with it, a crafters' community. It's also worldwide. Artists and crafters sell their work-- from jewelry to housewares to furniture to notebooks to gardening tools. I've always liked Etsy, as is evidenced by my jewelry and place mats I so love. But now that we have Mabel, Etsy has become a dangerous behemoth of an addiction. I might need to block myself from it soon. Doesn't Yahoo offer some program that does that? Or isn't there an app?
While I'm definitely expressing disdain for and a little embarrassment about my addiction, I must also say it makes me feel good to buy from artists. A lot of the people who run Etsy shops do so as their sole means of income. And their stuff is simply gorgeous.
I think at the heart of my new addiction is a bit of envy. A former jewelry- maker (though I don't fancy myself NEARLY as talented as most of the Etsy shopowners I've perused) and dabbler in home- made wall hangings and home crafts, I wish I had it in me to build the motivation to start my own Etsy shop. I think if I worked hard enough on honing in on one craft, I could maaaaaaybe pull it off, and that's a double- bolded, capitalized, and italicized "maybe." I'd be horrible with upkeep, and I'd get anxious and would fall into a frenzy if my orders began to proliferate faster than I could fill them. I'd be messy with paperwork too. And I wouldn't begin to know how to run the financial aspect. Don't even get me going on the sheer terror that would ensue if a package were to get lost or someone hated my product.
So, since I'm not with- it enough to start my own Etsy site, I will continue to stalk and purchase from others. I was stopped in my tracks last night, though, when I realized I'd bought too many things for Mabel's room. Her room doesn't have enough walls. Nor does her play room. I need an Ets- ervention.
The interesting thing about this new habit is that I've never really had what some call a "shopping problem." I buy clothes and shoes when I need them. I've never had to cut up a credit card. And I've never had to keep myself away from a mall (contrarily, I HATE malls). So why this now? Once I figure this issue out-- and what it says about me-- I'll catch you up. For now, I need to at least stay away from Etsy until my most recently purchased products arrive and I figure out how to hang them without making Mabel's room into a collage.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Lots of Changes
I haven't written in a bit-- and this time it's not because of
procrastination. I've actually been wanting to blog for a while but
haven't had the time. We've had a NUMBER of changes-- though all
exciting ones- in the D household. I recently went back to work after
being home with Mabel for 6 months. I was very lucky to get a lengthy
maternity leave, and I adored my time with Mabel. I look back most
fondly upon our mornings together, when she would first wake up and I'd
pull her into bed with me and she'd either nod back off or we'd play
silly games and she would make her little nutty sounds as she greeted
the day. It's fun watching a baby in the morning-- each new day is like
entry into a new world all over again. Mabel would stare at every
little corner of her room, mouth agape in what seemed to be amazement. I
will also miss our Sesame Street viewings; I'm aware that a 6- month-
old doesn't know what the hell she is watching on the TV, but she
certainly recognized Elmo, or to her, that red blob that makes the funny
noises. I LOVED seeing her light up and coo when Elmo would take to
the screen. I could go on and bore you for a while, but I feel
emotional about and nostalgic for our time together, especially those first few months when having a baby in the house was so
new, and even anxiety- provoking, but so very cool. All this
sentimental blabber carries a "however" though... I was ready to get
back to work. People told me I might cry. They told me I would both
love and dread receiving texted pictures of Mabel from the day care
provider, that I would miss her terribly and it would be an incredible
adjustment. People even said, graciously, "Reach out if you need
anything! This week's gonna be a killer for you!" Thus, anticipation
gripped me, but when August 27th rolled around... dare I say it? I was
F-I-N-E fine. Now, I do realize that much of the challenge in
going back to work after a maternity leave comes when you have to leave
the little munchkin at the day care, and as you walk out, she is
following you with her eyes, seeming to plead, "Dooooon't goooo!" But
maybe why this was all so much easier on me was because I had my mom
watching her for the first few days, which offers a certain elevated
level of comfort, and when Mabel did go to day care, J was dropping her
off, not me. I didn't have the actual "leaving her behind" image in my
head all day; in fact, when I leave in the mornings, Mabel is often
still comfortably asleep. Another reason why I didn't go to the super- sad
place might be that I really like and trust our day care provider. T is
utterly thoughtful, conscientious, and devoted. When I arrive for pick- up, Mabel is often marveling at the toddlers working on a puzzle, smiling up a
storm. It makes me feel relieved to know she enjoys being at T's house
so much. But if none of these reasons make sense, then maybe I am
missing a certain Mom gene that makes ladies cry when their tikes go off
to someone else's care. When T texts me pictures, I light up seeing
Mabel attentively concentrating on a toy or crazily laughing while in a
swing at the playground. I never feel sad. Maybe I am an oddball?!
But frankly, and I hope folks don't judge, but I couldn't wait to get
back to some adult interaction. Elmo is dear to me, but I needed more.
I guess that's who I am, but figuring out my own parenting path and my
identity as a mom is part of this whole rookie gig to begin with. I
like having routine in my day, and working with teenagers as a high
school teacher. As much as I grouse, I actually enjoy putting on work
clothes and making early morning coffee and scrambling to get my lunch
made in time (J very kindly has alleviated this responsibility lately
for me!). As much as I know I am going to be bitching and moaning like
crazy about stress soon enough, I know where I need to be and what I
need to be doing in order to be a happy mom, which to me is the best mom
I can be to Mabel. I'm digressing a bit, but I heard an author on NPR
the other day (wish I knew her name now); she has recently published a
book about parenting, focusing on the argument that having kids often
doesn't fulfill people in the ways they had envisioned. She is a
feminist and some of her theories seemed a little harsh to me, a bit
tough to wrap my head around (ie- her claim that being a parent is NOT
the most important thing you will do with your life if you are indeed a
parent). But what I liked is that she made the point that parenting can
be a joy, and it can also be a challenge. Kids make us laugh and grant
us happiness, but it's not their jobs to MAKE US HAPPY. That's a lot
of responsibility to put upon a baby. We can love our kids more than
anything, but not love every second of time we spend with them, and
that's okay. I think Mabel's going to day care is good for all three of
us. She's experiencing new people, places, and activities, and J and I
are both working doing things we are passionate about. I see it as a
win- win.
The other big change is that we moved into our new house. Formerly renters, we are very excited to be owners! Closing on the purchase AND moving in the same day was a herculean task, but we got it done. Mabel seemed out of sorts-- both excited and confused- for a couple days, but now she's back to stompin' and sittin' and swingin' and sleepin' just as before. We are elated to have more space-- especially because various baby gear was taking up almost our entire previous living quarters. I couldn't get from the couch to the kitchen without stepping on the "Lights n Sound Gym" thing or stubbing my toe on the swing posts. Mabel gets her very own play area in the new digs.
Fun new adventures for us all... And we are loving them. When I start to beat myself up for not being more sad about leaving M at day care, I can make myself feel better with my gushy, sentimental reaction to the fact that our little apartment, in which I was pregnant with Mabel and to which we welcomed Mabel as a newborn, is now just a memory. For all the complaining we did, that time when she was so new and teeny will stand out as one of the most memorable of my life, and it all took place in that little living space. I'm sure I will be driving by it a few times here and there, swabbing a Kleenex across my cheek.
The other big change is that we moved into our new house. Formerly renters, we are very excited to be owners! Closing on the purchase AND moving in the same day was a herculean task, but we got it done. Mabel seemed out of sorts-- both excited and confused- for a couple days, but now she's back to stompin' and sittin' and swingin' and sleepin' just as before. We are elated to have more space-- especially because various baby gear was taking up almost our entire previous living quarters. I couldn't get from the couch to the kitchen without stepping on the "Lights n Sound Gym" thing or stubbing my toe on the swing posts. Mabel gets her very own play area in the new digs.
Fun new adventures for us all... And we are loving them. When I start to beat myself up for not being more sad about leaving M at day care, I can make myself feel better with my gushy, sentimental reaction to the fact that our little apartment, in which I was pregnant with Mabel and to which we welcomed Mabel as a newborn, is now just a memory. For all the complaining we did, that time when she was so new and teeny will stand out as one of the most memorable of my life, and it all took place in that little living space. I'm sure I will be driving by it a few times here and there, swabbing a Kleenex across my cheek.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Singin'
Mabel makes lots of sounds now-- some almost seem to carry a melody, as if she's delighting us with a song. She's very into the "mmm" sound, and also likes hard "g" and "b". Her choice of when to be most vocal often cracks me up. For example, she makes tons of happy sounds when having her diaper changed and when rolling around on the couch. She's also laughing a real hearty giggle much more often than before. Who knew my sticking out my tongue or J's off- note singing would be so funny? Guess she's easy to please. Sometimes she just grips our faces and laughs. She's also now raking things with her fingers, and can pull and pick at things that she really has to reach for with fine motor coordination. Playtime on her mat now has to be constantly monitored, as she rolls and scoots and ends up quite far from where we originally rest her. Mabel has become quite an eater, devouring sweet potatoes, apples, bananas, peaches, green beans, squash, and... her newest accomplishment... meat, such as a lovely puréed turkey and sweet potato combo. The solids have been agreeable to her, though it took her a few days to get used to the new kind of shiz that solids create. I knew we were knee- deep into parenthood when Mabel was red and screaming on her changing pad and J and I were standing over her, comforting her while she pushed a shiz out-- diaper open, and we were quite literally watching the shiz emerge. It was so sad to see her in pain, and we needed to know that sucker was gonna make its exit. I didn't thnk I'd ever have it in me to watch poop fall. I'm thankful that most times on her changing pad, she's singing :)
Saturday, August 4, 2012
No Pattern Will Ever Hold
The title of this post is comprised of the worthy and valuable words my friend C gave me the other day in regards to child- rearing. I'd been bitching about Mabel's newest move-- the 3AM wake-up and holler. Good times. The frustrating part is that she HAD been sleeping through the night-- in fact, she started sleeping through on April 25. But, since then, she's actually done stints: a few weeks of through the night, and then a streak of not. It's been frustrating, but in doing a ton of reading (books, blogs, message boards, websites), I've come to learn that Mabel is actually in the majority. Most babies experience some sort of wakefulness period at some point or points. I have an entirely new level of respect for working moms--- as the product of a working mom, I've always known how hard it is, but being up in the middle of the night has made me see things through an even clearer lens. As of right now, if I don't sleep well, I can shut my eyes when Mabel goes for a nap the following day. But soon I will be at work and I am already afraid of my tiredness. J is great and shares these duties with me, but, sadly, I wake up and can't seem to settle myself until she is back to sleep, even on his nights. Conveniently, Mabel goes back to sleep very, very easily. She seems to want a bit to eat, and then passes right back out. Some of the "experts" out there claim that if you run in with a bottle, a 5- or 6-month- old, who is sophisticated enough to be strategic, will just cry all the time, knowing you will rush in. Yet, at the 3AM wake- up, she appears truly hungry. She goes down at 8, so that's 6.5 hours she has made it, and I guess I shouldn't be so hard on her. We've tried all the trendy stuff- the dream feed, the hazy feed, the bulking up on solids before bed. The poor thing just can't make it past 3:00. The other option is Ferberizing, but I am not there yet in terms of doing it at a gosh- awful time in the night. J and I need our sleep too, and going in with a few sips from a buh- buh seems ways easier than hearing her scream it out. We have adopted whine- it- out for naps, which Mabel has done well with; she can definitely self- soothe. Soooo... maybe this a growth spurt. She also appears to have a tooth starting up way down in that gum. We shall see. For now, C's advice is utterly helpful-- no pattern ever holds, and just when your think you've got a pattern down, she will change it up on you. Expecting this to happen has helped me. And poor sweet Mabel, your mom is an awful sleeper. I will do what I can to help you to be a heavy and peaceful sleeper like your dad. You're waking only once per night- this really isn't too horrible. And your cute little mug greeting me in the morning makes all this crap way easier.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Fun in the summah sun
Mabel will be 5 months old this weekend. Recently, Mabel has been enjoying the summer sun via pool, beach, and yard. She's got a neat dome that we can plop her in and she remains shaded and also blocked from bugs. Mabel and I have spent some time sitting in the yard- which she tolerates for about 45 minutes. I can't blame her- I wouldn't want to be covered in 60 SPF AND thrown in a dome AND stuck in generally one position, unable to sit up unassisted yet. We've also gone to the pool here, at my parents' house, and at Mabel's uncle's. She's been a good water rat and I am just counting us lucky that her swim diaper has held up and we don't see a brown surprise exiting into the shallow end. I would die. I mean, who really knows if these swim diapers work, but for now, she hasn't had the urge to shiz while swimming- phew!
Her most notable milestone at this week is the starting of solid foods. We put her on rice cereal a couple weeks ago, but for the past three days, she has encountered the delight of puréed sweet potatoes-mmmm! Truthfully, they are not terrible, to which I can attest after spilling some and lapping it up from my hand. Classy mom! We are now way more into bibs than ever before as we attempt NOT to get orange ickies on her sweet little outfits. This is where I wonder why people buy super- expensive duds for the bambinos. At some point, that baby food gets unwieldy and cumbersome! It's been quite fun to watch Mabel actually eat- and grin in the process--- that formula must get pretty flipping boring after a while, and variety is the spice of life!
Some time- markers: loves the Sesame Street songs sung by Cookie Monster, Grouch, and Elmo (on her wooden toy); is making quite a range of sounds; is so mobile that we have to strap her into her bouncy chair and swing; is very well behaved and quiet in the car (just sits and watches trees and cars); can grip and grasp at finer/ smaller things than before; pulls at things above her (on playmat, in swing, etc); tucks both lips in and makes the cutest "mmmmmm" sound i have ever heard; laughs heartily :)
Friday, June 22, 2012
Mabel at Quatro
Mabel is four months old today. I took her to the beach yesterday. She did well- seemed to like the ocean water and the sand. But I couldn't help but notice what a different sort of beach experience it was. I think gone are the days of reading a book and relaxing. Still, I was so glad to introduce Mabel to the beach, as both her parents are fans and are going to want to keep acclimating her to fun in the sand and surf. The best part was that she slept and didn't make a peep for either 60- minute car ride. When we got home, it was bath tme. Mabel must have wanted me not to get TOO comfortable, so she decided to, for the first time ever, pee all over me the second I removed her diaper. Good times. I guess she just couldn't contain her excitement about tub time! We're in the midst of a heat wave and while the beach was pretty neat, we are spending today enjoying a little household joy called central air. And, i must admit, I may or may not be watching The Kardashians on demand. That Kris Jenner- Yikeroos!
Friday, June 8, 2012
The Sh*t Has Hit the Shirt
It officially happened. I went out in public with shiz on my shirt. I had to know this occurrence would be likely pretty soon, as Mabel's shizzes have become more plentiful and, um, powerful, let's say. She has managed to ruin a couple of her onesies, and a few pajamas have fallen victim as well. Generally speaking, though, we do a good job around here of keeping everything contained and clean. The occasional poop- through is inevitable with a baby, but what was strangely surprising was seeing poop on my lovely hunter- green top when I was already in the car-- too late to do anything about it. The only remedy at my fingertips was a pack of pacifier wipes; I tried vigorously to remove or lessen the mark that the Mighty Shiz God had bestowed upon my clothing, but the weak, organic, baby- safe paci wipe was no match. Its poopy foe had won the battle, and there I was with its emblem, right smack on the middle of my shirt while speaking with a woman whom I don't know all that well. What does one do-- make a joke? I went with "Don't say anything at all and maybe she wont notice." I'm sure the sweet lady did, in fact, notice, but maybe she could have convinced herself it was a sauce from cooking or something. I'm still a little befuddled because on this particular day, and with this particular shiz, we didn't have an explosive moment. It was, rather, pretty tame. I guess, though, these things are rites of passage. Yay, me! Momhood! It reminds me of the Sex and the City episode (yes, don't mind if I do make a reference to that yet again) when Miranda edns up with baby shiz on her forehead and Steve has to tell her so. Now that'll be a fun day!
In cleaner news, Mabel is grasping at everything. She moves her teeny little fingers all over her toys and animals. It's rather sweet. And her newest move in the land of mobility is scooting around and upward in her sleep. I find her in the crib in the morning far from where I planted her. This morning she was looking up at me with a sinister little smirk, like, "Hee- hee, wouldn't YOU like to know how I manuevered this?!" At least these days she can't stand up or try to wiggle her way OUT of said crib.
She's down for a nap as I type this. We've started the "whine it out" mode for naps. I used to coddle and rock her until she fell into a deep slumber. In reading and speaking with friends, I decided she's old enough to start learning the self- soothing process. Now, Mom- police, I wouldn't let her scream- cry it out. This is just that "I'm soooo tired" whine, and within ten minutes she's out like a light. Go Mabel! You are becoming so independent, and Mom and Dad appreciate it!
In cleaner news, Mabel is grasping at everything. She moves her teeny little fingers all over her toys and animals. It's rather sweet. And her newest move in the land of mobility is scooting around and upward in her sleep. I find her in the crib in the morning far from where I planted her. This morning she was looking up at me with a sinister little smirk, like, "Hee- hee, wouldn't YOU like to know how I manuevered this?!" At least these days she can't stand up or try to wiggle her way OUT of said crib.
She's down for a nap as I type this. We've started the "whine it out" mode for naps. I used to coddle and rock her until she fell into a deep slumber. In reading and speaking with friends, I decided she's old enough to start learning the self- soothing process. Now, Mom- police, I wouldn't let her scream- cry it out. This is just that "I'm soooo tired" whine, and within ten minutes she's out like a light. Go Mabel! You are becoming so independent, and Mom and Dad appreciate it!
Monday, June 4, 2012
Grippin' and Rollin'
Mabel is hard at work as of late on some of her motor skills. She is grasping lots of things with her hands- from rattles to rings to our fingers-- and quite often my hair, which feels lovely. But watching her figure out how to hold things is very cool; she starts by putting her hand on something and then very carefully and mindfully navigates the positioning of her fingers for optimal grippage. She used to lie on her playmat and look above, marveling at the zoo animals hanging from the hoops; now, she holds those same zany animals and pulls at them while smiling with pride. But her big milestone is rolling over, which happened once Thursday, once Friday, and again last night. We position her on her tummy, elbows tucked so she can enjoy her baby gym or some tummy time on her mat, and thrice now, we've looked over and she's on her back! I've tried to get her to roll on command (I feel like I'm talking about a dog now), as I hold the video camera, but, alas, she isn't down with audiences. At any rate, she's practicing her new move here and there!
Friday, May 25, 2012
Tres!
Mabel turned 3 months old on Tuesday the 22nd. 3 months-- where has the time gone? The funny thing is that I now almost can't remember what life was like when we first brought her home-- which probably means I should have started blogging right away. Anyway, I barely remember life pre- her smiles and sounds and kicks and punches. It's hard to believe that for a while she was just a little lump who lay there waiting to be tended to, and needed feedings about every 2.5 hours. Now we've got a little munchkin who can, for the most part, sleep through the night, and who can sit here on the couch watching "Live with Kelly" with me as I type this. So cool! It's truly amazing how fast they grow-- their brains and their bodies. I brought Mabel into work the other day again because I have got quite a few things to do there; she did splendidly. Allowing her mom to get work done, she sat in her Bumbo and took up the sights and sounds around here-- she even smiled for some co- workers. The best part was watching her react to a class full of "big kids." They were, as most kids are, very excited to meet a baby, but she was silently overwhelmed and just sat in her chair gape- mouthed. It was hilarious-- and very cute. Happy 3 months, Mabs!
Monday, May 14, 2012
A snapshot in time
I figured it might make good sense to post a verbal snapshot of Mabel-- a detailed look at what she's up to lately so that I and anyone else might look back at it and smile. Here's a peek at Mabel on a recent given day:
- makes her Darth Vader voice when she's busy and breathing fast and she's got a little phlegm stopped up. You can almost hear the deep, dark tones of "Luuuuke, I am your faaather."
-kicks fiercely and energetically
- grips our hands
- smiles at our faces and nearly erupts in giggles
- smiles the same way at her reflection in the mirror
- smiles at and is completely enamored of panda and Elmo
- likes to sit in her Bumbo seat and Boppy
- makes a sound that is remarkably similar to the word "okay"
- makes a full range of vowel sounds, as well as consonants such as g and k
- loves TV (uh oh)
- seems to enjoy music videos on MTV
- can do long, contented stints in her swing
- still loves the outdoors, especially walks
- makes saliva bubbles almost constantly
- drools like the dog Beethoven
- is very curious and alert- loves to watch either one of us do something as mundane as putting away groceries
- likes the illustrations in her books: We're Going on a Bear Hunt; The Very Hungry Caterpillar; The Runaway Bunny; My Very First Book of Shapes.
It's been pretty dang cool watching her change and grow.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The little things- VERY little things
My mom bought Mabel this little stuffed panda made by Baby Einstein. The books (love how I take everything these "experts" say as Bible truth) claim that babies at this age are particularly intrigued by black and white, hence the panda. Each of his paws has sharp primary colors on them, too, and the paws play music. This toy seems so silly, but Mabel goes crazy for it. It is so, so adorable to see her reaction to this thing. She will spot him from afar and immediately start grinning and opening her eyes wide. When I bring the panda closer, she gets even more excited. Mabel smiles at our faces all the time, but to see her recognize her favorite toy, and treat it like a person, is precious. My heart melts! I guess it truly is the little things.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Maybe hitting the great point?
People have talked a lot about this amazing turning point in an infant's development--- the three- month mark. Supposedly, they go from somewhat needy and a bit fussy to easy, independent, fun, and coo-y. It was, I have to say, a little annoying when folks would say, "hang on, because everything changes at 3 months!" while we were in the midst of a 7pm tantrum over nothing. Three months seemed so far away, first of all, and I just couldn't picture it. Well, Mabel is 11 weeks old, and I think this magical time is indeed upon us. As I write this, she is sitting in her swing, wide awake, entertaining herself with little giggles and coos. She can sit and watch TV on her own (I promise I won't rely on television too much as an entertainer), and is even seeming to self- soothe a little. I'm probably hugely jinxing myself, but, dare I say it, I think the bulk of her evening fussiness- over- nothing is gone. Or it's been minimized anyway. She's no longer a terror at that time. I feel like such a cliche, but I love watching her, with her curious eyes and increasingly mobile little body. She loves to kick at the noise- makers on her baby gym, and congratulates herself with coos and oo's when she does so. Mabel also seems to pay attention to the illustrations in the books I read to her. I'll be sure to update this blog when I need to say I was wrong, that it was just a good week.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
What happened to those long ones?
By long ones, I mean naps. When Mabel was a really new newborn, she would sleep during the day in, sometimes, four- hour stretches. I didn't realize how good I had it! She's now become more cat-nappy. I've heard this is a good thing, as it means she is more alert and wants to witness the world around her. I see this positive change and am happy, but, I've got to admit, it's making my life harder. Yes, I suppose that makes me a selfish mom. When Mabel is awake, her stints on the playmat or in the bouncer have become short; it's like baby ADD. She gets bored easily and wants to move all around the house. Of course, this means I must carry her, via either bjorn thingie or my arms. She loves to bounce around and see the various rooms, and smile at her little reflection in the mirrors. She is most certainly an outdoorsman, and revels in time on the patio, staring at the trees and cars around us. While I truly am fascinated watching her explore, I'm also getting really tired! I can't put our little gal down. She has made it known that she is NOT a fan of sitting idle. Thus, when Mabel DOES shut her cute little eyes for a catnap, I am scurrying around the house furiously cleaning and making bottles, taking a shower, throwing in laundry, and catching up on email and Facebook. Traveling,too, has become a wee bit more challenging. Mabel still loves the soothing rhythms of a car ride, but she wakes in the car more easily now, and, I think, realizes she is restrained and does not enjoy that feeling. Yesterday, she was an angel, sitting in the bjorn while I shopped at Legacy Place. She then closed her eyes for a bit, but when I had to put her into her car seat for the ride home... Well, she was displeased to say the least. If she cries while I'm driving, I find myself talking to her from the driver's seat: "I'm sorry sugarplum, but I can't help you right now! I have to drive!" I did realize, though, that this talking is probably more for me than for her. I feel positively awful when she wails like that, and I think I need the consoling and reassurance that all will be ok. While I'm so glad we've got a curious, active little gal on our hands, I'd just adore one of those long naps someday soon!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Curse of the Premium Channels
J and I recently got a new cable package, which includes the premium channels. This purchase led me to watch all 12 episodes of Homeland. It only took three days for me to get through them. Obsessively and addictively watching a television show causes mixed feelings-- intrigued by the show, happy about getting through a whole season, and also gluttonous for watching so much tv. I felt like I should go out and run a road race after. Being home with a baby is all- new territory, and I'm still navigating it, but I can honestly say it's sort of hard. People are probably scoffing right now, saying, "You jerk, what I wouldn't give to be home watching Homeland!" But what I mean is that it isn't physically hard but somewhat mentally tough. I'm trying to still be a productive person but Mabel needs a lot of time and attention. I miss adult interaction, but watching her grow and change is the coolest thing I've ever witnessed. I feel like I should be constantly cleaning the house or reading all of Barnes and Noble's newest best- sellers or joining charities or learning a craft, but so far I have been pleased with myself if I have managed the cleaning part. Mabel amasses an insane amount of laundry, what with all the pooping and spitting up. And the house is covered in blankets, pacifiers, rattles, bottles, and odd baby socks. I'm not voicing complaints, or telling a tale of woe. I know I've got it pretty good right now in getting to hang with Mabel. I just didn't realize how fast time would go by and that my only accomplishments in a day may be cleaning up the living room, watching Homeland, and chilling with Mabel while she coos in her bouncy seat. And that those three activities would actually be highly enjoyable...
Friday, March 23, 2012
New skills
Mabel has some new skills. First off, and most comical, she can shiz up her front. Yup. This morning, after a feeding and a session of the poor thing's typical shiz grunts (fists clenched, frown, kicked up legs), I observed that she pooped up her front toward her belly. I don't really understand the mechanics of this. She has pooped up her back before, which was disastrous for the bouncer seat where it happened. But up the front? Still a mystery to me. A much cuter new skill is Mabel's ability to play on her Tiny Love Mat. She kicks and "dances" and loves to look at the animals. I'm a little worried we have a narcissist on our hands though, as her fave feature of the mat is the mirror where she can just tilt her head and see her own image. This little gal loves to stare at her own mug. I'm loving this playmat, though, because I can plop her down and it is totally safe, and then I can go clean the kitchen or put in laundry or write a blog entry. I'm so boring. Wonh- wonhhhhh. (autocorrect wanted to make that Wong- Wong.)
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Jekyll and Hyde
It's interesting that so early on in life Mabel has mastered the art of the alter- ego. She can be an angel and then, ever so quickly, morph into a demon. J and I wanted to see how she'd do in a restaurant; we decided to start small by going to a noisy Chili's in case she were to melt down. We gave Mabel a B overall; she didn't sleep through the meal, as we had hoped, but with some coddling and attention, she was pretty quiet. We did have to package up half of our entrees to- go, but we were happy with Restaurant Experience Número Uno, and next time we will tank her up on a full bottle RIGHT before leaving the house. We got home and she took a nice nap from about 9 to midnight. This particular nap time tends to worry me though, because then she can be kind of a monster in the wee hours. Much to my pleasant surprise, she was good all night! This lady slept, albeit off and on but still, until 7ish. So that was Mabel being angelic. Alas, as Murphy's Law indicates, things that may then go wrong often do, and she's been quite the hellion since then. She puked all over her mom, and then went into that insatiable mode. She was warm, full, and coddled, yet decided she needed to compete with the jungle cats of the world with her intense cries. It's lucky she's so cute; I only had one freak- out moment, during which J calmed me down (I am the woman who tenses up when I hear babies crying in Target- do the right thing, people- get that child ouuuuttta here). She's in her swing now making her precious chirpy noises that I love-- apparently has reverted to angel mode. Auntie C is coming up to meet her today-- we hope Mabel only shows her angel side for the occasion!
Friday, March 16, 2012
Here goes
For a living, I am an English teacher. Thus, naturally, I enjoy revising and editing, and perfecting my writing. One challenge here is going to be NOT revising and editing this blog like mad. I will fix major errors but I'm gonna try to really just let the thoughts flow. So two goals: actually keep up with this whole blogging thing, and don't get all grammar- nazi. Even if I am the only one who ever reads this thing, it'll be fun to look back on entries and write some more, but the fun will be sullied if I'm constantly fixing it up, so to speak.
Anyway, onto Mabel and this whole mothering thing. Mabel is very cute. Actually, J and I are not sure if she's cute to the outside world or just to us, which broaches another topic: do parents of ugly babies think their babies are cute? We could have a spawn of Shrek here and still think she's cute, right? Well, we do think she's dang cute. She's got this precious little apple face, and big blue eyes and dimples ( the English teacher in me wants to fix that unclear modifier, as you could be reading the sentence as if Mabel has blue dimples). She is quite lovely when she is calm. She has become more and more alert over the 23 days she's been here, and she looks around the room now with a sweet little curiosity. Mabel also loves to sit on that Boppy thing, which is for breastfeeding,I think, but we have made it her seat. It's cute to see her positioned in this little donut of a doo- dad.
But Mabel has screaming lungs too, and omg, can she exercise them. Some people have told me she may be in a 3- week growth spurt, which would explain the insatiable hunger and fussiness. I don't really care what the reason is; I'd like her to kindly stop. I find myself talking to her quite rationally, as if she can understand such requests. "Mabel, I am trying to help you. Might you please stop that shrieking??" Yes, she shrieks. It's this very dramatic girlish shriek, like, ugh, I hate the world! She also has a counterpart to that terrible shriek, and that's her cute bird chirp noise. I think if she didn't do the chirp to counter the horrificness of the shriek, I'd have lost my marbles by now. There have been times over the last 36 hours when she is clean, warm, and full and he still shrieks to the high heavens. It reminds me of that Will Arnett show, "Up All Night," in which they have a newborn and on a particularly gruesome freak-out occasion, they tell the baby, "We are on your team!"
At the hospital, the doctor was saying how interesting it is that other mammals pop out babies that are ready to walk and function alone, and humans pop out babies that are relatively underdeveloped and need so much more tlc (autocorrect wanted to make that talc-- what the f is talc? Talcum powder??). I wonder what it would be like to carry babies in utero for two years so they could emerge independent. Oh wait, I am the same person who bitched about how long 9 months was...
Starting this shiz up
I've always wanted to have a blog. The problem is I tend to be Procrastinator Extraordinaire, and blogging has been a task that has hung on a long, dusty to- do list for over a year now. I guess I've never thought I've had anything really interesting to say to the world, but now that I am a bumbling, stumbling, goofing- up Mom (and please know I will never use the word "mommy" or "mama" on this blog, as both gross me out) I figure I have some anecdotes and sentiments that will maybe prompt some grins. Hmmm, autocorrect wanted to make the word "maybe" into Mabel. I've been a little weirded out about using my baby's real name on this blog, so from here on,I think Mabel is perfect for her.
Anyway, one more disclaimer. I don't think I am awesome for being a mom. This blog will not be a platform for me to praise the joys of spit-up and swaddle blankets. I'm not going to write about how blessed I feel to have had my uterus graced with the presence of Mabel. It's not one of THOSE mom blogs. Basically, J and I have no flipping idea what we are doing, and a lot of the learning is just plain funny. Plus I will use this space to vent. I hope you will visit this space and not get sick of me. But if you do, then you can start blogging about how annoying I am. I won't be offended.
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