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.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
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.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Human Sunrises
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)