Yup, it's that time again that I want to post a snapshot of Mabel's doings. It's going to be quick, because I am utterly swamped with grading. But I was afraid if I didn't do it while thinking of it, I'd forget to do a snapshot any time soon.
Mabel is desperate to walk. She can stand momentarily without holding onto anything, and a couple of times she has taken a step from one thing (say a couch corner) to something else (a table). She can race up the stairs (we only allow this when we are behind her-- otherwise the stairs are gated), and she wears this shit- eating grin of achievement when she gets to the top. It's fun to see her be proud of herself. And speaking of being proud, she also is so when she walks behind her carriage or train, which she now pushes all around the first floor. Her walk while doing so is straddled and awkward; I love it. Mabel makes a lot of sounds now and babbles like crazy. She says both "mama" and "dada" but without association. In fact, most things are either "dada" or "ba." When she DOES call her bottle a "ba" or "baba" I wonder if it's purposeful, similarly to how I wonder if her saying "mama" twice now when I have arrived at day care is coincidental or intentional. Mabel waves hi and bye, and T (day care provider) told me yesterday that Mabel says "bahh bahh" a lot when waving "bye bye" to kids. So far, we aren't counting any of these as first words; we feel we need a little more context for these to be REAL words, but we like that she is making all the fun sounds and syllables.
Mabel laughs hard when her doll Abby Kadabby "talks." She also enjoys flopping down on her stuffed Penelope dog. Mabel's heartiest laughs come when J does this whole tickle monster routine with her. They both are down on all- fours, and they chase each other while shrieking in excitement, and eventually, when J catches up with her and tickles her, she roars giggling. In fact, now when J's key goes in the door, Mabel looks at me inquisitively as if to say, "Is it him?? The tickle monster?" When he enters the room, she goes nuts. Mabel is still loving cell phones and remote controls, and she is dying to play with the ipad but has not been allowed. Dolls and toys are played with for a few minutes usually, but eventually Mabel wants to attack tupperware and other safe kitchenware we let her play with. She has many toys, yet the simple house stuff is what entertains her most... go figure! My favorite skill of hers is the high- 5. If you say, "Mabel, gimme 5!" she will reach up and give you the daintiest and lightest but proudest high- 5 you can imagine. She's even good with low- 5. That girl knows her 5's!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
What kind of mom?
I saw a post on a website yesterday that jarred me. It was titled, "What kind of mom are you?" and there was an accompanying quiz to take so you could figure out some handy- dandy word to describe your maternal habits. I felt it stupid right when I glimpsed it, but later I found myself thinking about the concept. Are there really kinds of moms? Am I a kind, one particular type that can be described succinctly?
As you know from early posts, I'm a worrier. Even at 11 months into this game, I still check on Mabel all the time when she's sleeping. I still get nerved up that a cough means an illness, and I still worry that I am doing everything wrong. I have this almost visceral fear that no matter what choice I make, I am messing up Mabel's future somehow. That if I am a teeny bit under a full scoop of formula I will build up in her some horrid disease. That if I don't react to her whines the right way she will be emotionally inept. That if I don't wash her clothes in the right detergent she will have a permanent skin condition. It's probably about my self- esteem, and I probably belong on the couch of a shrink's office, but I have nearly convinced myself I am an inept mom.
I suppose it's because I've never been in charge of a life before. Does every mom go through some level of this "I suck" feeling? Do moms tend to feel more or less confident when they have more kids? Is there any relief?
So even though I know I am a worried mom, I still don't know what "type" of mom I am. I know what I don't want to be. I don't want to be a helicopter mother (seen wayyyy too many of those on my job), and I don't want to be an uninvolved, figure- it- out- yourself parent either. I want to be protective but to a degree that allows for independence. I worry that I can do that. What if I become more and more worried, to the point I want to quarantine Mabel??
I also know that I don't want to be impatient, and I don't want to yell a lot. My parents were awesome in many, many ways while we were growing up-- they were constantly supportive of our endeavors, and they loved us with more heart than I can describe here. But they were also coming off of a generation of old- school, Irish- tempered households. My dad yelled a lot, and got exasperated a lot, and my mom did too. I don't fault them-- they didn't know any other way. And we learned to be respectful of our elders, and to work hard, and to be humble, among other crucial lessons. But I have to wonder if I would have ended up less a Nervous Nellie if they had been calmer. I put a lot of pressure on myself for fear of letting them down (which is funny, because my dad asked only that we always try our best, and said the effort grade was more important than the actual grade. I think I ended up translating that to mean that if I were working hard, I WOULD do well. Maybe I had that perfectionistic way in my hard- wiring. Anyway, I digress...). But I feel myself getting impatient around the house all the time: when the bottle brush won't get all the formula off, when Mabel tips a basket of laundry over, when she changes the channel with the remote and I can't figure out how to fix it. I have to really try-- and calming words from J help too-- not to get unreasonably ticked off sometimes. Argh- the curse of the Irish temper! Temperamental is NOT the kind of mom I want to be.
If I want not to be impatient and angry and tight- assed, then it would logically follow that the kind of mother I want to be is calm and more roll- with- the - punches- esque. I need to have these traits at work too, and in my interactions with J and my parents and everyone else.
While I am not ready to label myself as a kind of mother, at least I have figured out what I don't want to be-- what might be detrimental to Mabel's well- being. She's worth it to me to try-- to try real hard. I hope that no matter what happens, I turn out to be the kind of mom that Mabel needs. She won't be a perfect mother, and she will screw up and act impatient and get nervous and pick at the skin on her thumbs when she's really anxious. But dear goodness, please, please don't let her neuroses eff up that sweet little baby girl.
As you know from early posts, I'm a worrier. Even at 11 months into this game, I still check on Mabel all the time when she's sleeping. I still get nerved up that a cough means an illness, and I still worry that I am doing everything wrong. I have this almost visceral fear that no matter what choice I make, I am messing up Mabel's future somehow. That if I am a teeny bit under a full scoop of formula I will build up in her some horrid disease. That if I don't react to her whines the right way she will be emotionally inept. That if I don't wash her clothes in the right detergent she will have a permanent skin condition. It's probably about my self- esteem, and I probably belong on the couch of a shrink's office, but I have nearly convinced myself I am an inept mom.
I suppose it's because I've never been in charge of a life before. Does every mom go through some level of this "I suck" feeling? Do moms tend to feel more or less confident when they have more kids? Is there any relief?
So even though I know I am a worried mom, I still don't know what "type" of mom I am. I know what I don't want to be. I don't want to be a helicopter mother (seen wayyyy too many of those on my job), and I don't want to be an uninvolved, figure- it- out- yourself parent either. I want to be protective but to a degree that allows for independence. I worry that I can do that. What if I become more and more worried, to the point I want to quarantine Mabel??
I also know that I don't want to be impatient, and I don't want to yell a lot. My parents were awesome in many, many ways while we were growing up-- they were constantly supportive of our endeavors, and they loved us with more heart than I can describe here. But they were also coming off of a generation of old- school, Irish- tempered households. My dad yelled a lot, and got exasperated a lot, and my mom did too. I don't fault them-- they didn't know any other way. And we learned to be respectful of our elders, and to work hard, and to be humble, among other crucial lessons. But I have to wonder if I would have ended up less a Nervous Nellie if they had been calmer. I put a lot of pressure on myself for fear of letting them down (which is funny, because my dad asked only that we always try our best, and said the effort grade was more important than the actual grade. I think I ended up translating that to mean that if I were working hard, I WOULD do well. Maybe I had that perfectionistic way in my hard- wiring. Anyway, I digress...). But I feel myself getting impatient around the house all the time: when the bottle brush won't get all the formula off, when Mabel tips a basket of laundry over, when she changes the channel with the remote and I can't figure out how to fix it. I have to really try-- and calming words from J help too-- not to get unreasonably ticked off sometimes. Argh- the curse of the Irish temper! Temperamental is NOT the kind of mom I want to be.
If I want not to be impatient and angry and tight- assed, then it would logically follow that the kind of mother I want to be is calm and more roll- with- the - punches- esque. I need to have these traits at work too, and in my interactions with J and my parents and everyone else.
While I am not ready to label myself as a kind of mother, at least I have figured out what I don't want to be-- what might be detrimental to Mabel's well- being. She's worth it to me to try-- to try real hard. I hope that no matter what happens, I turn out to be the kind of mom that Mabel needs. She won't be a perfect mother, and she will screw up and act impatient and get nervous and pick at the skin on her thumbs when she's really anxious. But dear goodness, please, please don't let her neuroses eff up that sweet little baby girl.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Memories (or not...)
I scared myself the other day when I realized I don't remember my pregnancy very well, nor Mabel's first few months with us. I hope I don't have amnesia. And I hope that when I got electrocuted by a faulty vacuum cleaner cord last month that it didn't mess with my brain. Maybe, just maybe, Mother Nature makes us not remember so that we will decide to get pregnant again and thus keep the human race going.
Now when I say I don't remember, I don't mean that I don't recall ANYTHING. Of course I remember giving birth (I explained it in some detail in my last post, actually). And I can remember coming home, and Mabel drinking out of those teeny newborn bottles. I also recall writing all her feedings down and how they were about 2.5 hours apart. And I have memories of the baby swing, and that vibrating bouncy chair, and some of her really cute outfits.
But a lot of the details are gone. And yes, that probably means I should have started blogging earlier and when I did start, I should have written more. I don't really remember how I felt every day. And I wish I could still hear-- without looking at videos-- what her coos and even cries sounded like back then. I truly don't remember. I wish I knew what shows I watched when I was doing an in- the- middle- of- the- night feeding, and what little systems J and I used to get things done effectively (I do remember we would take turns making a bunch of bottles at once and storing them, but that's really it). I wish I knew how often she napped and for how long, as those details are sketchy at best, scrawled in a notebook I found the other day.
As for pregnancy, I think: sciatica, heartburn, and 1st- trimester- nausea. I remember being huddled over the toilet praying that I could throw up because the nausea was so constant for a while. And I remember J and I buying the economy- size Tums because we both had heartburn, and mine came on anytime I lay on my back. Even if there were other bad parts to pregnancy, they've been washed away somehow. I'm sure I felt tired a lot or maybe even had aches and pains, but I really don't know now. And I wish I could recall how those first few kicks felt-- the first time I ever felt a baby move inside me.
In terms of post- partum stuff, I do remember bleeding for 5 weeks (sorry, but it's true), but I really have no memory of to what extent that bothered me. I don't know what clothes I wore to keep me comfy post- birth (yoga pants? maternity clothes?). And I have no idea when my body started going back to normal (and no, I have not yet lost all the weight). But at some point, I lost a good deal of it, yet I don't know when. I had that "linea negra" thing down my belly for a while, but I'm not sure when it went away finally. And I don't know when my scary pregnant lady boobs started to go back to some semblance of what they once were.
While a lot of this lack of memory makes me sad, I guess it's good I don't remember all the gruesome stuff. Maybe people are right that some force makes you forget-- maybe it's all evolutionary. It's just such a weird phenomenon how fast pregnancy seems to have gone by in retrospect (in the moment, it's not flying). And the same goes for a baby's growth-- how did Mabel go from this really teeny, completely dependent, little sack of newborn chub to a toddler? And why can't I recall every step of the journey? Guess I should stop being a control freak and let Ma Nature do her thang.
Now when I say I don't remember, I don't mean that I don't recall ANYTHING. Of course I remember giving birth (I explained it in some detail in my last post, actually). And I can remember coming home, and Mabel drinking out of those teeny newborn bottles. I also recall writing all her feedings down and how they were about 2.5 hours apart. And I have memories of the baby swing, and that vibrating bouncy chair, and some of her really cute outfits.
But a lot of the details are gone. And yes, that probably means I should have started blogging earlier and when I did start, I should have written more. I don't really remember how I felt every day. And I wish I could still hear-- without looking at videos-- what her coos and even cries sounded like back then. I truly don't remember. I wish I knew what shows I watched when I was doing an in- the- middle- of- the- night feeding, and what little systems J and I used to get things done effectively (I do remember we would take turns making a bunch of bottles at once and storing them, but that's really it). I wish I knew how often she napped and for how long, as those details are sketchy at best, scrawled in a notebook I found the other day.
As for pregnancy, I think: sciatica, heartburn, and 1st- trimester- nausea. I remember being huddled over the toilet praying that I could throw up because the nausea was so constant for a while. And I remember J and I buying the economy- size Tums because we both had heartburn, and mine came on anytime I lay on my back. Even if there were other bad parts to pregnancy, they've been washed away somehow. I'm sure I felt tired a lot or maybe even had aches and pains, but I really don't know now. And I wish I could recall how those first few kicks felt-- the first time I ever felt a baby move inside me.
In terms of post- partum stuff, I do remember bleeding for 5 weeks (sorry, but it's true), but I really have no memory of to what extent that bothered me. I don't know what clothes I wore to keep me comfy post- birth (yoga pants? maternity clothes?). And I have no idea when my body started going back to normal (and no, I have not yet lost all the weight). But at some point, I lost a good deal of it, yet I don't know when. I had that "linea negra" thing down my belly for a while, but I'm not sure when it went away finally. And I don't know when my scary pregnant lady boobs started to go back to some semblance of what they once were.
While a lot of this lack of memory makes me sad, I guess it's good I don't remember all the gruesome stuff. Maybe people are right that some force makes you forget-- maybe it's all evolutionary. It's just such a weird phenomenon how fast pregnancy seems to have gone by in retrospect (in the moment, it's not flying). And the same goes for a baby's growth-- how did Mabel go from this really teeny, completely dependent, little sack of newborn chub to a toddler? And why can't I recall every step of the journey? Guess I should stop being a control freak and let Ma Nature do her thang.
Friday, January 4, 2013
2012 in Review
It's a new year. People have been saying, 'Happy New Year!' for days now-- as we pass in the halls, as I pay for my gas, as I leave the bank. And I always say it back. Such a simple sentiment, and one that we reiterate with the change of every year, but this year, I seem to mean it-- and feel it-- more. Maybe it's a host of crappy shit that went on in the world this year. Maybe it's because that in my personal life 2012 WAS happy, and I wish that same happiness for all people, and in a more global sense. At any rate, it is indeed a new year, and with the change of the calendar comes a very refreshing albeit trite sense of a clean slate.
I'm not dumb enough to make resolutions anymore. I've gone that route too many times already and always let myself down. Plus, my resolutions always seem generic and I'm not sure how to make them not so. Thus, I won't resolve to do anything specific, but I will be hopeful that 2013 brings us peace, and some joy and fun and spirit and laughter.
2012 was a biggie for J and me. We got hitched, bought a house, and-- most importantly-- welcomed Mabel. It's fun to think back on my pregnancy, especially because we were all so convinced Mabel was a boy. For a Type- A person, deciding not to find out the gender of our baby was a toughie for me at first, but retrospectively, it was the best decision we could have made. There was something so utterly fantastic about hearing the sex of the baby for the first time after she had made her debut. It made the moment of birth that much more exciting. I'd do it that way again in a second.
So, yup, it was a year of lots of events. Lots of stuff packed into one calendar year. I have to admit though that I am relieved a lot is behind us. Planning the wedding had enjoyable parts to it, but I just wanted the day to arrive, and to eat, drink, and dance. And anybody sane will tell you that a home purchase is most fun when it is done with. Those sorts of "mile- markers" are cool ones, but I think I will use this blog post to do a little review of Mabel's events in 2012.
Mabel was born on Feb 22, at 5:19AM. She was supposed to join us on Feb 15 but had other plans. On Monday, Feb 20, I was induced with Cervadil, and the induction didn't work. The following morning, I received a second type of induction, and, again, NADA. I was terrified that the docs would make me keep waiting and that J and I would be hospital- bound for days and days. But, nope! Good old Dr. L to the rescue (part of why I adore her even more now!). She broke my water-- literally with a wooden stick-- at 4pm-ish on Feb 21, and BOOM, I was in real labor. About 12 hours later (after two Epi- dural doses, an anti- nausea med, and lots of boredom and anxiety), I reached 10 centimeters dilation, and after an hour of pushing and eating popsicles, Mabel was with us. Labor was funny (not in a hee- haw, knee- slapper way) because it was so, so opposite to how I had pictured it. It may have been because I got to 10cm in the wee hours of the day, but my push period was super- quiet. Only J, our awesome nurse Linda, and I were even in the room. Linda held one of my legs and J the other. When the pushes really hurt, I remember growing exasperated and yelling at poor J. I couldn't take my pain out on sweet Linda. :) J had to bear the brunt of my wrath, when I criticized how he was holding my leg, and how he needed to stop talking about the "tools" in the room because it was making me sicker. Ah, the joys! Well, Mabel was certainly worth it all.
We stayed in the hospital until that Friday, the 24th. We left on a cold but not biting day, and that ride home from the hospital to our place was so anxiety- provoking. "Omg, we have a baby now... a human. Please God, don't let us eff this up."
And here we are 10.5 months later. Mabel has mastered many things over time, from rolling over, to sitting up, to military- scooting, to crawling, to standing, to walking while holding onto things for assistance. She now opens all cabinets and drawers-- well, she tries, but is thwarted by our baby proofers. She eats foods that range from lasagna to broccoli. Mabel dances when music comes on-- she bops her head back and forth, and sometimes swings her head wildly, really craning her neck-- it's adorable. She takes baths in the real tub, and loves playing with her rubber duckies. Some of her favorite toys are the Elmo guitar, her Penelope dog, her baby carriage walker, and-- perhaps her prized item-- an old remote control from which we took the batteries. She will travel all over the house with her remote, careful not to lose sight of it. Mabel is into almost all 12- month clothing, and now knows how to remove headbands from her head. :( She sleeps about 12 hours per night, and when she wakes in the morning, she stands up and hangs out quietly for a while before whining for us. My favorite move of Mabel's is her fall- asleep- in- the- highchair move on very tired days. That girl can pass right out while sitting up. She loves dogs, especially Cammy-- not sure the feeling is mutual as he usually gets annoyed with her fur- pulling antics, and who can blame him. She giggles heartily when she pounces on him, and we are trying to instill the "pat not pull" mantra to get her to be a little more gentle with him. Mabel celebrated her first Christmas this year, and everybody was so generous with her. She has still only two teeth-- front bottom-- and her hair is ever so slowly starting to look more girlish, coming down over her ears a bit. Favorite sounds include "da" and "ennn"-- still waiting on the "ma"! I have a feeling she will be saying even the dog's name before "ma".
Been a fun ride with the gal so far. It's crazy to me how much babies' brains absorb, and how much they observe and take in and use. What an edifying experience for her mom! Happy 2013 to all--- and may you find your "happy" in whatever that means to you.
I'm not dumb enough to make resolutions anymore. I've gone that route too many times already and always let myself down. Plus, my resolutions always seem generic and I'm not sure how to make them not so. Thus, I won't resolve to do anything specific, but I will be hopeful that 2013 brings us peace, and some joy and fun and spirit and laughter.
2012 was a biggie for J and me. We got hitched, bought a house, and-- most importantly-- welcomed Mabel. It's fun to think back on my pregnancy, especially because we were all so convinced Mabel was a boy. For a Type- A person, deciding not to find out the gender of our baby was a toughie for me at first, but retrospectively, it was the best decision we could have made. There was something so utterly fantastic about hearing the sex of the baby for the first time after she had made her debut. It made the moment of birth that much more exciting. I'd do it that way again in a second.
So, yup, it was a year of lots of events. Lots of stuff packed into one calendar year. I have to admit though that I am relieved a lot is behind us. Planning the wedding had enjoyable parts to it, but I just wanted the day to arrive, and to eat, drink, and dance. And anybody sane will tell you that a home purchase is most fun when it is done with. Those sorts of "mile- markers" are cool ones, but I think I will use this blog post to do a little review of Mabel's events in 2012.
Mabel was born on Feb 22, at 5:19AM. She was supposed to join us on Feb 15 but had other plans. On Monday, Feb 20, I was induced with Cervadil, and the induction didn't work. The following morning, I received a second type of induction, and, again, NADA. I was terrified that the docs would make me keep waiting and that J and I would be hospital- bound for days and days. But, nope! Good old Dr. L to the rescue (part of why I adore her even more now!). She broke my water-- literally with a wooden stick-- at 4pm-ish on Feb 21, and BOOM, I was in real labor. About 12 hours later (after two Epi- dural doses, an anti- nausea med, and lots of boredom and anxiety), I reached 10 centimeters dilation, and after an hour of pushing and eating popsicles, Mabel was with us. Labor was funny (not in a hee- haw, knee- slapper way) because it was so, so opposite to how I had pictured it. It may have been because I got to 10cm in the wee hours of the day, but my push period was super- quiet. Only J, our awesome nurse Linda, and I were even in the room. Linda held one of my legs and J the other. When the pushes really hurt, I remember growing exasperated and yelling at poor J. I couldn't take my pain out on sweet Linda. :) J had to bear the brunt of my wrath, when I criticized how he was holding my leg, and how he needed to stop talking about the "tools" in the room because it was making me sicker. Ah, the joys! Well, Mabel was certainly worth it all.
We stayed in the hospital until that Friday, the 24th. We left on a cold but not biting day, and that ride home from the hospital to our place was so anxiety- provoking. "Omg, we have a baby now... a human. Please God, don't let us eff this up."
And here we are 10.5 months later. Mabel has mastered many things over time, from rolling over, to sitting up, to military- scooting, to crawling, to standing, to walking while holding onto things for assistance. She now opens all cabinets and drawers-- well, she tries, but is thwarted by our baby proofers. She eats foods that range from lasagna to broccoli. Mabel dances when music comes on-- she bops her head back and forth, and sometimes swings her head wildly, really craning her neck-- it's adorable. She takes baths in the real tub, and loves playing with her rubber duckies. Some of her favorite toys are the Elmo guitar, her Penelope dog, her baby carriage walker, and-- perhaps her prized item-- an old remote control from which we took the batteries. She will travel all over the house with her remote, careful not to lose sight of it. Mabel is into almost all 12- month clothing, and now knows how to remove headbands from her head. :( She sleeps about 12 hours per night, and when she wakes in the morning, she stands up and hangs out quietly for a while before whining for us. My favorite move of Mabel's is her fall- asleep- in- the- highchair move on very tired days. That girl can pass right out while sitting up. She loves dogs, especially Cammy-- not sure the feeling is mutual as he usually gets annoyed with her fur- pulling antics, and who can blame him. She giggles heartily when she pounces on him, and we are trying to instill the "pat not pull" mantra to get her to be a little more gentle with him. Mabel celebrated her first Christmas this year, and everybody was so generous with her. She has still only two teeth-- front bottom-- and her hair is ever so slowly starting to look more girlish, coming down over her ears a bit. Favorite sounds include "da" and "ennn"-- still waiting on the "ma"! I have a feeling she will be saying even the dog's name before "ma".
Been a fun ride with the gal so far. It's crazy to me how much babies' brains absorb, and how much they observe and take in and use. What an edifying experience for her mom! Happy 2013 to all--- and may you find your "happy" in whatever that means to you.
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