swamped

apparently when your husband works 7 days a week and you are trying to run a business, laundry and childcare are a bit lacking.

and i SWEAR i have folded laundry every day this week. perhaps i just haven't folded it faster than it gets dirty.

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Some days

Some days just end up like this and I pretend it wasn't me who made the mess, even though it most certainly was.

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9000 someodd days and counting

Dear Bella,

Once upon a time you were very little and you fit in the nook of my armpit. Actually, that used to be your favorite way to sleep. Once you got over your colic and we could lie down at night, you always ended up there, no matter how far away you started out. As you got taller, we grew into one another so that you were always the perfect fit.



In the months before Lillia was born I was panicking because you had become attached to me like never before. In the middle of the night you would wake up screaming and even if I was ten inches away, you cried as if the world were ending right then and there.

Now Lia spends many hours a day in my arms and you are in a Daddy phase. He does bedtime, and when you wake up at night no one can calm you but him. If he's not in bed, you wander out into the dark of the house, plodding along behind your sleepy feet, calling out for him. You always have been a Daddy's girl.

Last week you woke up from a nightmare and wanted to sleep on my front like you used to. I cherish the quiet cuddle times you give me now, as they are few and far between. But instead of resting on my breast, your head came up so high over my shoulder that you couldn't get comfortable. How did that happen?

I don't know where we stand right now, you and me. We are at such a crossroad. Oh how I love you; oh how you make me work for it. You fell so hard this month and all you wanted to feel better were nursies, forget that it's been almost three months since you even asked last. I knew you still wouldn't remember how to nurse, but something with that familiar position, lying sideways, looking up from that familiar angle set you at ease.

At the beginning I used to compare Lia's nursing to yours. Now even looking at a photo of you nursing I can just barely remember. I sat there holding you, completely lost; I might as well have had a giant teenager stretched across my lap. I had no idea how much you had grown and I didn't know how to make you fit.

We're both working on that. Where do we fit? Whatever Lia is doing, you want to do the second she stops. Sometimes you're her big sister, and sometimes you just want to be the baby. You've even invented your own gibberish language just like a baby. (Thanks to nightly recitations of Fox in Sox.) The rest of the time it's amazing to hear what you have to tell me. You say So, um, incessantly and are perfecting my exasperated sigh. You call the tassels on your hat fingers, and your free flowing speech gives us amazing an insight into a world where nothing is boxed in. Just the other day you recognized when we rounded the corner to the cousins' house, and you know when you are in our neighborhood, too. If you are walking, you're dancing, and if you're dancing you're jumping. Your world is outstanding.

When I picked you up for nursies that day, I guess I hadn't realized how long it had been since you let me really hold you. I don't ever want you to feel so foreign to me. From now on, we'll grow up together.

Love, mama

PS. Don't blame daddy for the focus on this shot. He got the focus just right in all the ones where you are rolling your eyes at me and stuffing crackers in my face. Maybe he just loves my snazzy ponytail.

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reading

She likes to have us read to her while she reads an entirely different book to herself. Sometimes she listens and sometimes she chats through the whole thing which frustrates me to no end. Of course, then I have to pretend not to be insulted when she interrupts to tell me about her book.

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what it's worth

i'm in a foul mood tonight. i have photos coming out my ears and i don't want to edit a single one. tomorrow i go back to my part time job, which went to crap in the 12 weeks i have been gone, including firing a friend (and very good employee).

to top it off, lillia has yet to take a bottle. i do not know how i am going to leave her, even for 6 hours, knowing that she will most likely be screaming the entire time i am away. the thought makes me want to cry. there's no money in this job, and my dreams are in my future business. it's all i can do to even show up tomorrow. i'll be thinking of this face the entire time. here's hoping we all survive.

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wistful

Catching up on photos. Sad, realizing that I haven't seen Bella this happy even once this week. Or haven't noticed it if she has been. Holding one baby when the other needs you so badly is so very hard. I miss my joyful little girl.

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so go the nights

Days have been pretty good. Even the ones where I'm alone
(except yesterday, the "come home early, hun, i'm about to lose it" day). Of course we haven't tried anything exceptional. Naps are still pretty elusive for Bella and we've resorted to the ever so eco-friendly habit of driving around in the car.

Nighttime lately has consisted of one or the other off us putting Bella to sleep, which can take between 20 minutes and two hours. Then around 3o'clock Lillia wakes up to eat, we switch sides of the bed and Bella wakes up out of a nightmare and starts thrashing and screaming and inconsolably for me (unless you're me, in which case she touches you and goes limp into a deep, sobbing sleep).

The night before last was a missed nap night (which you know is disastrous going in). Bella fell asleep after about 45 minutes with Dave and woke up an hour later when I came to bed. She crawled up next to me and Lillia and lay there awake (but remarkably still) for the next half hour. Then Dave came to bed, put her back into her bed, and she woke up crying for me. Since it was a rational, awake cry, and Dave was completely keeping his cool, I let him handle it without me rescuing Bella. She sobbed for two hours before finally letting Dave cuddle her instead. He had to hop into her bed to get her to sleep.

I sat by and listened the whole time to those heartbreaking cries. The ones that make you want to run to your baby. The ones that remind you of the times that you cried so hard because you thought that you would never get to be with someone again. No, it's not the end of the world, but it sure feels like it.

No matter how much I fill this girl up during the daytime, its nighttime that she needs the love. That is something that I'm still not sure how to handle. Society tells me to kick her out of our room and let her cry, that kids are resilient and she'll get used to it. My mama instinct tells me that she is a sensitive soul that might not get used to it, and why should she have to? It wasn't her choice to add another person to this family. Sigh. No nap yesterday (fireworks through the day and alllll night) and none again today so we'll see how it goes. At least I'll have Dave home by then to help.

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what am i doing?

sitting on the couch with a sleeping baby, watching wall-e as bella draws on a giant pad on the floor.

today has ended in an uncharacteristicly lazy manner. here i am with a hot water bottle, a bag of chips, chocolate (shhh!), vitamin c pills, and water. i started the day out with a sore boob, woke up to yet another cold, cloudy day, which made me even more grumpy. my baby blues hit in the morning with lillia, so we met my parents at the park. there's a fine line between overdoing it and getting out for fresh air, and i've been treading the overdoing it side lately. but the sun came out a bit and my disposition got brighter, but i still couldn't warm up. when stopping to get sandwiches threw me overboard, i started to realize it might be something more than low iron chills.

by the time i got home, i realized i had an infection in that boob i slept on funny. and a fever of 101. luckily today was home visit day, so my midwife told me to take to bed and came to see me.

lillia has gained a whole pound since she was born. as strange a nurser as she is, and as sleepy as she is, she never lost an ounce and we managed just enough sun to keep her jaundice at bay. she has melted right into this family.

dave took bella to the bbq i would now be missing (in the sun, boohoo, with my parents who are leaving in two days, boohootimestwo) and i sat in the quiet and watched a flock of white birds fly back and forth in the evening light for an hour. i remember these quiet moments with bella - this is the first one i've really had with lillia. she slept the entire time. and now, off to put bella to bed. she's handling things so well and we miss each other so much.

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no really, honestly.

i'm around. i swear. i have backlogged posts just waiting to go up (er, from february?).

but i'm around in that -

i slept next to bella for 6 hours saturday night trying to keep her on her side as she puked every twenty minutes so that i'd never have to re-experience the panic that comes with waking up to hear your baby choking on her vomit

and then i cleaned every blanket, towel, sheet, piece of clothing in the house

and then bella puked once again on sunday night just to be rid of it once and for all

(but got the whole bed this time, frame, box spring, carpet and all)

and then i cleaned every blanket, towel, sheet, piece of clothing in the house

and then i spent half of monday with my head in the toilet, wretching bone cracking pukes i have never in my life experienced before

and then when i had lost my voice and was too exhausted to sit up anymore i retreated to our (unpuked on) bed downstairs and slept every 10 minutes until the demons came back to get me

and then just to be sure i was rid of it once and for all, i finished the night with a great cleansing puke and went to bed disastrously thirsty but done puking and contracting. thank god.

and then i cleaned every blanket, towel, sheet, piece of clothing in the house

and now i am preparing for company coming tomorrow

and bella's birthday on sunday

and you'll notice i'm too tired to use my shift key

-kind of way.

see you on the other side.

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Hiding

**Tomorrow the Picture Spring workshop begins! (No, I don't scrapbook, but I lovvvve Tracey Clark and I WON the class, so it must be a sign.) March was quite the month around here, and it's time to get this post out of the way so the good vibes of spring can wash it away. Here we go, April!**

It has now been one year since Dave was laid off. He tried his best at a new career that did not end up fitting our family, and now we are back where we began. A whole year later.

I'm finding that the hardest part of all this is continuing to be social, to still enjoy being with people. When life is not going right, all I want to do is hide under the covers, hole up in the house and pretend no one can see me. When the optimism gets sucked out of life, even amidst all the beauty, all I want to do is avoid people and their seemingly perfect lives.

Meeting for coffee might seem simple, but it is not in my budget. My house is always open, but be forewarned that my fridge is embarrassingly empty. Conversations about this or that class someone's child is taking brings a bitter taste to my mouth. I'd like to echo those words, Really, it's not that expensive, just 50 dollars a month! If I had fifty dollars a month, I'd pay my phone bill so that I'd no longer have to field awkward questions about why no one can reach me by phone. Honestly, I'm finding the silence peaceful.

The best parts of my day are when a friend says, I know, we were there when our kids were little. It's hard to believe now, but you will get through it. It's true, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. We were supposed to have gotten there by now. So I just have to hold on to those words. My biggest regret is that this bit of Bella's life is being overshadowed by my own gloom. Kisses on my belly, naps that end with a squeaky groggy voice and a pat pat on my stomach. Hello, Baby! Afternoons of playing Hide-and-Shriek with Daddy. Stroller walks that never seem to end. It's beautiful, and I have to take care not to let material worries hide that from me.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if we lived in a less money-centric society. We have so many kind family and friends that offer us what they can when they can. But in our society, we are not taught to receive without repayment. It is embarrassing to take, take, take. And even worse, because we are bred on monetary and material exchange, it makes it awkward to offer anything back. All I have to give in return is my time. It's a hard thing to define, and it becomes even harder when you offer it to people who (just like you) were not raised to accept gifts of time and talent. What is the worth of an offer to hold a baby while a new mom showers? And how many actually accept it?

All this has given me a slight insight into the happiness of communities with very little money. If you are used to giving yourself, it must surely be easier to accept similar gifts from others. You never have to turn someone down for a lunch date or panic at the thought of company coming over to see your empty cabinets. Friendship is enough. You give what you can and accept repayment in kind. What a difficult concept.

And yet somehow it seems that once I master it and surround myself with people who understand, I'll be able to go back to enjoying my family and friends, to feeling less inadequate. I dream of repaying everyone who has filled me back up over the last year as I reached low after low. It might take years, decades perhaps. We're nowhere near the top of this mountain and if any one person holding us up suddenly left, we'd slide right back down. And still, I'm realizing that it might not take so long to give thanks - it'll simply take a shift in my perspective (oh, is that all?) and my understanding of what it means to repay someone.

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Sleep: boos and woohoos

Woohoo!: 8am bedtime has been in place for two weeks now. It rocks. After three nights of crying torture (re: 30 seconds of crying then sleep, or a minute of crying, 10 more of cuddles, then sleep), Bella has taken to a bedtime like Nemo to Pixar.

Boo.: Whether Bella is rising earlier now that she is caught up on sleep, or whether she is rising with the sun, it is hard to tell. Praying for the former so that we do not wake earlier every day. [updated: now she wakes up about 6 times a night to throw a full fledged tantrum, so she's back to sleeping in til 8... hmmm.]


Woohoo!: Bed time is no longer my sole responsibility. It was for about 21 months of Bella's life, and now Dave can easily put her to sleep and we have time to ourselves again.

Boo.: I find myself staying up way too late and still having to wake up at Bella's new early hour.


Woohoo!: We figured out that Bella needs an earlier nap time (see above, duh. we're brilliant), and now she wakes up when it's still light outside.

Boo.: Actually, we've only been successful at this new naptime twice. All prior attempts at napping resulted in hours of tantrums and often no nap at all. But here's hoping the streak will continue!

Woohoo!: We got a stroller! That reclines! Yaaaay! Now Bella can settle down for a nap while I get exercise, instead of wasting our time in front of the tv or computer or just lying in bed.

Boo.: Well, actually, it's still a novelty to her and not a nap inducing device. The only time she has fallen asleep in it was during an hour-and-a-half-long walk. Not sure I'll be able to do that every day. (But here's hoping...) [update: today she fell asleep in it after just a half hour - it's working!!]

Woohoo!: I now get to watch my little bear fall asleep willingly by herself in her crib (still our bed) after copious cuddles. This is MY novelty and I'm in love. She's fought sleep since day one, quite literally getting combative over it. Sigh, I could watch her drift off to sleep for hours.

Boo.: Nothing, actually! Now when she wants to drift off in the rocking chair or cuddling, I don't mind indulging one bit. The belly still makes room, and she's only going to be my littlest baby wanting cuddles for so many more weeks. Sigh.

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Just when you think it's safe

I think the universe just likes playing jokes on me. Maybe I'm just taking it too personally.

Even when I ended my contagious period, Bella and I remained quarantined for another week so that we'd have a chance to let her show signs of poxdom.

Well, it came and went rather uneventfully, though I studied every red dot on her body with a microscope. She's sensitive, she gets dots left and right.

Fast forward to ANOTHER week later (we counting almost 3 weeks now since I got sick). One car is on the fritz so I'm house bound while Dave works. So I volunteer to host a knit moms get together. I neeeeeeed people, people. Socialization.

Lo and behold, as the two babies and one three year old head home, the one suspicious spot has become 5 and they are filling with fluid. Yes my friends, at long last chicken pox has won over Bella's mighty immune system.

Really, I wouldn't feel so bad if one of the families were not flying to Mexico in 13 days. Who wants to worry about a 6 month old's potential for pox on top of traveling internationally?

Oh, universe, you crack me up.

PS- what is Bella doing now as I finish this post? I had Dave throw her in the tub because her dinner of yogurt became yogurt body painting and since she has been in the most foul mood, I am open to anything that will entertain her (semi)peacefully for an entire half hour. Pictures to follow, I suppose, after the weekend.

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anatomy of a pox

Bored? Have a peek into my week:

Wednesday: Decide to opt out of knit night as I feel a bit crummier than usual.

Thursday: Wake up feeling completely out of breath, a feeling I haven't had in the longest time. 100 degree fever and eyeball headache all day (you know, where your eyeballs hurt to the touch...maybe it's just me). Thankfully Dave comes home early from his job hunt so I can lie on the couch all day. We pop by the library in the evening and I'm so winded I can't make it across a row of shelves without a break. As I'm heading to bed I notice a spot on my back, figure it's a strange zit, and think nothing more of it.

Friday: Wake up feeling just like yesterday, only not winded. Maybe I'm getting over this thing! Sometime around lunch I think to check on that spot, and when I lift up my shirt, I'm stunned. Thirty more spots have popped up! My first thought is chicken pox, but that's silly because I've had them. A strange light case when I was four, but the doctors claimed it all the same. Not to mention the number of pox parties I've attended just in case!

I hop online to see what Dr. Google has to say about the initial appearance of chicken pox and see phrases like "birth defects" and "death" that make my head swim. Time for a call to mommy...then my midwife, then dave, then work, then my midwife again and my mom again. What would we do without phones?

My midwife contacts her perinatologist in Tacoma who says that at almost 18 weeks, the baby shouldn't be put too much at risk. The risk at this point is my fever and that I might come down with a deadly pneumonia that hits 20% of pregnant women post-pox. So it is now my job to take it easy and hope for a light case, this being my second. And still I feel guilty and worry all day long about the baby, what mom wouldn't?

Saturday: My grand delusion that I might just have a mild second case is over. I wake up with hundreds of polka dots, but at this point I think if I can keep a handle on the headache then this is no big deal. At night things start to get itchy and every time I shift my weight on my back, another spot pops. Just call me human bubble wrap.

By the way, if you are an unborn baby reading this to gather advice (I know you have internet in there), please do your mother a favor and keep kicking away as you normally do at all your normal times. Playing quiet is NOT a nice game when your mom is already freaked out and unable to sleep.

Sunday: Yep, a hundred more this morning. And these are the good ones. Three inside my ear, thirty on my face, don't forget the five or six I can feel starting down my throat and the thirty-some-odd in places I'd only mention to my midwife. I'm starting to get annoyed at my fever and the itching has kicked in. Little do I know just how bad it can get when you have nothing else to think about at night. If anything so much as brushes my legs, all my nerves stand on end and jump start the itching again. I'm wishing I had my hair cut over Christmas like I'd planned. It's a tickle nuissance. Thankfully, Bella sleeps through these nights on her own side of the bed.

Hours upon hours spent thinking about people who live with this ridiculous itching every day of their lives. Finally I resort to my old compression tactic and wrap myself in a thin blanket so there's pressure on all sides of me.

Monday: Not too many this morning, but the casualties are setting in and I can tell there's going to be scars. I've got pizza face, and my back looks like a war zone. I'm going to look like a freak at work this weekend. I itch itch itch all day, except when the weather's nice and Dave takes us for drive-through coffee and a day at the park.

Thursday: The days are a blur of sitting and itching, interspersed with sunshine and projects to keep my hands busy. In the night I get up every few hours to distract my mind when the itching cannot be controlled by lotion or brainpower. Even though the pox have stopped popping up, I now have hives everywhere else, my hair, my neck, my arms, hands, feet, legs. They come and go and these imaginary itchies are worse than the real ones, since they only get more swollen the more you itch. If I can distract myself, they go away. Who in the world invented itchies like that? It's just cruel.

Here's hoping that Bella does not get the chicken pox. Most likely she won't. But tomorrow is the day that will tell - day 10 since I got mine. If she does, that's two more weeks of isolation for me, and Bella is trying her hardest to not go insane without people around. She's so much more a people person than me.

Ah the life of chicken pox.

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Savoring: the apartment

We're moving! And while it's always been our dream to have a yard where Bella can run around and no downstairs neighbors to worry about, there are many things I will miss about this apartment.

Obviously we've raised Bella here. All her firsts have been here, from first hours alive to first steps. I have lots of photos, of course, but I can't help but be sad leaving.

Our giant bedroom. When you cosleep, it's easy to hole up in your bedroom on days that you just don't want to get out of bed.

Morning sunlight shining on our bed. There's nothing better than that, I say.

A window in the bathroom.

Southward facing picture window. In the land of Little Sun, it's very very important to get all the natural light you can. In the winter, the sun rises and sets in our picture window, and the sun moseys from one end of the room to the other. I don't think there's a single southward facing window in the house. :O( Of course, I'm sure I'll find sunshine somewhere!

Carpet that we don't care about. Oops. Did I say that out loud? It will be nice to have carpet that's not embarrassingly dirty, though.

Big closets. Of course, that's a fine trade for a garage and a storage shed.

Walk to the grocery store. I'm going to have to start planning ahead!

Free indoor pool and gym. We haven't been making the most of either since Bella came along. Maybe it's best so we don't miss it as much. Still, it was so nice...

Laundry in the bathroom. There's nothing better on a cold morning than throwing your clothes in the dryer while you shower. And a tub is perfect entertainment for Bella while I fold clothes!

Walk to Starbucks. Because I have to admit, it's my favorite way to spend a day off. Or a snow day....

Okay, next will have to be how much we expect to love about the house we're renting. After all, who wallows about going from an apartment to a house?


PS sorry about the lack of photos. Once again, having photo issues and time issues, so in order to actually get a post up, i had to sacrifice. hopefully i'll be back in full swing again soon.

PPS it took me a week to decide that. i could have just posted this a week ago

PPPS happy 19mo to Bella. time will tell if she gets a letter this month.....

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The garden bug

Hey look! I found a post from the end of May. :O) Since I'm about to do two posts about my garden this year, I figured I ought to at least publish this one to get it started. You'll have to use your imagination since I don't have access to any photos from May, not until my computer gets a lobotomy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

We've caught the gardening bug around here. Okay so it's not HERE, but it's at my uncle's, and it's a beautiful yard.

Last year we arrived in November and by spring I myself was ready to pop, and there was no way we could imagine tending a garden. This year we dived in head first, starting everything from seeds. Mostly we're working with raised beds, but they are not set up in Square Foot Gardening standards. They're big and long, and since they were put in twenty (?) years ago, the fruit trees all around them have grown considerably. They are no longer in the full sun part of the garden. So, we're doing a little bit of everything and hitting a huge learning curve in the process.

I started in the winter (the ground doesn't freeze here) by turning all the dirt over at least a foot deep, taking the green over grown plots back to dirt, but most of all, I was trying to dig up as many morning glory (and raspberry) root systems as possible. I got a lot, but I get to this garden every other day and I spend about a half hour each day pulling out morning glory. If you let ONE PIECE of root, leaf, or otherwise drop to the ground, it will sprout. It cannot go in the compost pile, either, since this one doesn't get hot enough.

Anyhow, all that work and a few things are now starting to come up. Here's life in the garden:

Ups: Bella's in the garden and playing with nature.

Downs: Keeping Bella out of the sun. And trying to weed or collect slugs with a baby in tow. And keeping her from pulling plants up. Or tossing rocks in the grass where my uncle will run over them with the lawn mower.

Ups: rhubarb! My uncle put in rhubarb well over 20 years ago, and it's still coming up ("like a friendly weed" says he).

Downs: slugs and morning glory. Morning glory may strangle everything, but at least I can see it before it damages the tops of plants. I spend another half hour plucking slugs out of the garden (they're never-ending!) and I have soda cans with yeast in them to trap the ones I can get while I'm away. At one point they were so bad I couldn't even get my lettuce to sprout before they at it off. I guess that's what happens in such a lush climate after 10 years of being ignored.

Ups: radishes! We love them, which is lucky since they're an ego boost. I'm learning that they need to be planted deeper, so that the red part is underground as seedlings. But they're nice an hot and so rewarding when nothing else survives. (Plus, who cares if a few get eaten away?)

Downs: WHAT IS EATING MY STUFF? It could be rabbits, though that's less likely than slugs around here. They wait until seedlings get to a hopeful recognizable size, and then LOP off the tops! They're doing it on my porch, too. I'm starting to blame squirrels and blue jays, but I just don't know. I haven't been able to get a single head of lettuce started.

Ups: My uncle had to take out some trees last year, so now there is an empty full sun section of the yard, away from the lawn. I'm looking forward to putting tomatoes and squash there (if someone STOPS EATING THEM!).

Downs: Uh, the soil is less than desirable there. I should have dug in some manure and potting soil, because at the moment the area is dubbed "the desert". I have yet to grow a plant more than 4 inches tall before it dies or is eaten.

Ups: Potential. Of course, the fruit trees will always bear fruit. But this year we already have strawberry buds, carrot tops, radishes, and hopefully much more. I am NOT patient, though. I don't want to wait til fall!

Downs: short hot season

Ups: Sunshine. Wow, we've had two full weeks of sun. Sun sun. Like no clouds sun.

Downs: Sunshine. What the heck Seattle? The sun comes out in July here. Where's the rain I need for my transplants to take?

~~~~~~
There you have it, a very sunny May garden in Seattle. Stay tuned for the exciting end of summer conclusion!

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thought splatter

I've been so short with Bella lately. Mostly because she's needy right now. If I take one step, she's right behind me. She crawls behind me, crying, even if I'm just walking two feet to the trash can. It's worst when I'm doing laundry or dishes and I go room to room collecting stragglers. My little blubbering shadow. Push her away when she needs the most, that makes sense, Shawna.

She's hitting really hard these days. I'd like to think it's a phase, but she's ALWAYS been a hitter. You lean in close for a kiss and she cat swipes your face. She seems all cuddly and then WHAM, a smack across the head out of the blue. I don't know how to show her to be gentle any more than I already have and the more she hits the less I feel like demonstrating gentle behavior.

After a whole year without the word NO! suddenly I'm frustrated and it escapes my mouth every other sentence. Usually in tandem with grabbing her away from something (the computer!). It's a meaningless expression of aggravation. It's not a teaching tool, it's power indulgence. And it backfires more often than not anyhow, since she's watching my every reaction. Noes are exciting. We're stepping into a power struggle, and if I don't stop it, we'll both lose.

I got my first heavy period in several years. It must be the night weaning, even just the thought of it, since we haven't accomplished much yet. The disheartening part of it is how much it made my leg hurt. It's hard to say what it feels like. Not painful, not yet anyhow. It's like how a limb feels when you've had your legs crossed and suddenly the blood flows fully again. It's feels warm and full of sand. It takes extra effort to lift it in even stride with my other leg. And then there are the hot shooting pains that radiate down past my knees. It's all rather unpleasant, but not painful. But I know it can be and the fact that it's already back is the only thing I'm dreading about future pregnancies. I would, after all, like Bella to have siblings.

When I was in high school, I bent my knee backward in gym class. A friend gave me a few pain killers to get through the day. The notes I took that day are squiggly and illegible because I was in so much pain. For weeks afterward (and random intervals after that) I had to get up in the middle of the night and walk around because the pain was worst when I was sitting or lying down for long periods of time. I never understood that. I still don't, but I do know that lying in bed last night I realized how similar the experiences are. I wonder what I did to my leg that day.

I caught a cold. In the summer? What a weird time to have a cold. It's because staying up late (sometimes I'm at work until 2am) messed just enough with my immune system that the cold got the better of me. I'm really beginning to resent a job that I used to love.

A block in the center of town burnt down last night. A five alarm fire. We could see the smoke rising up over the area where the farmer's market is held. I could smell it drifting in through my windows as I tried (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep. A beautiful cupcake shop. A sweet antique store where I window shop. A vacuum store that I would have visited yesterday had I not been sick. (I broke a belt trying to vacuum up my moby wrap, you see.) Apartments upstairs. One hundred years of town history in that building and today they are gone.


Yep, that's about it. Wow. Time to post a savoring list, me thinks. It's getting gloomy in here.

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Another lesson in the works

I woke up this morning, the promise of snow propelling my feet from under the covers like a kid who can't possibly get back to sleep now that school's canceled. I peeked out the window. Snow? No, just dust on the blinds. Trudging through the hall and into the light of the living room, I realized with great surprise that it DID snow. And why I'm not more excited, I don't know. I suppose I could take Bella out in it again before it melts, take photos of the fluffy trees, the slushy ground. Three months is a long time to remember having experienced something. But with happy seedlings ready to go into the garden, somehow I'm not feeling the snow love today.

~~~~

The library, we finally made it. Baby Story Time. Time to meet people. Time to make friends. Time to socialize, for Bella and for me.

Getting here has been next to impossible since a 10:30 start time requires us actually setting an alarm and waking up early. Most of the babies here have been up all morning and are ready to go down for a nap. Bella and I are still wiping sleep from our eyes as we rush through the door.

There are almost twenty babies here. Bella's never seen so many babies in her life, and she looks up at me like she thinks I might have brought her to the loony bin. Each mom settles in with a baby on her lap, the ones with twins have one on each knee. There I am, making mental comparisons and guesses about age. The baby next to us is the same age as Bella and she's walking. The baby across the room smiles more than Bella, is that possible? I resist the urge to tickle my sleepy baby to prove she smiles, too. That one reached for a bubble when not a single other one did. Ooh, that one's a bit... uhm, grouchy looking. Comparing isn't judging if you don't say it out loud, right? Bella just vegges on my lap, wondering why we are here and why none of the adults are paying attention to her. We don't know any adults with babies. She is THE baby.

The story teller makes her way around with name rhymes and puppets. The babies bounce on their mommies' knees with varying degrees of enthusiasm, the mommies sing and clap along as they get into it. What a pair we are, sitting there like someone slathered molasses all over our chair, staring out at our peers in awe. Suddenly I'm self conscious. We must look like ridiculous sticks in the mud in a room full of happiness swaying in the wind. I can't remember the words to Mary Had A Little Lamb. Bella hates it when I clap her hands for her so I'm clapping alone. How many times can they repeat the same tune? I suppose babies do love repetition. Do it for the babies. That's why we're all here, isn't it?

By the time we get to open play time, Bella and I have woken up and warmed to the group dynamic considerably. The babies dive in to a pile of books in the center of the circle and the moms do their best to seem genuine while chatting. Once again, Bella and I seem like vegetables in a room full of wild flowers. We've managed to slide off our chairs onto the floor and another mom hands us a book since we haven't yet reached for one ourselves.

I'm not shy, so to speak. But I'm awkward and I hate feeling like I'm back in high school on the outskirts of the in crowd. Yes, to a degree it's all perceived, but still I feel like I have nothing in common with so many of the people here.

(Starting with the fact that my daughter is not the center of their universe....)

We don't listen to children's songs. It's classic rock or classical guitar or the radio. Music is music, and I don't believe it has to be lame to be appealing. We're at the library to interact with babies, so let me confess that we also don't read that many books. It becomes a grabbing war and ends in me reading words from memory and Bella gnawing on the cover. She destroys books more quickly than our rabbit.

We don't have bouncy singalong clapping time. We go on hikes, Bella sits with me in the grass while I garden or we play catch with a ball. We buzz our lips like trumpeters, cluck our tongues at each other, and make sounds like dying balloons. I wanted to give Bella a chance to meet other babies and learn to play with people her own size, but it could not have been more obvious that in a group of people, Bella and I both would prefer to sit and observe, interrupted by the occasional hello.

I don't really care when your baby will start swimming lessons. I've given up worrying about who's walking, who's crawling, who's teething, and how old they are, at least in settings like this. I know they're leaping points we use to start conversations and keep ourselves from feeling alone, but in here we're not making connections, united by common woes. We're competing in the name of Best Mother, Best Baby. The conversations are designed to pit us against each other and I'm trying to be gentle this year, remember?

I stared at the mom who mentioned for the tenth time how huge her boy twin was (he was) as she basked in the responses of incredulity. I watched with a bit of envy as the baby next to us toddled over to the basket of books and navigated past all the squirmy blobs on the floor, book in hand, back to her mom. And then I felt bad for her as the other moms said with relief (and at full volume to assure everyone that their words were not incited by jealousy) Thank God mine's not that mobile. And suddenly, because her baby had achieved too much, Mom of Walking Baby had to bring out the Keeping Up With Big Brother defense. I quietly looked on moments later as the same moms put their heads back together and began a volley of She's standing on her own and ready to crawl and she's only x months and we hope she'll wait for our sakes, but, my, look how talented she is!

I've been there. Everyone's baby is the best. Every mom strives to make her baby look like the special-est in a group of twenty very special, uniquely deserving individuals. It's the world's worst competition and I've decided I'd rather watch than engage. I don't like hearing those things escape my mouth, and yet I know they will the moment I step within the circle. What mom can resist defending her child's individuality and lifetime achievements? I don't know where that leaves me in terms of mommy groups. What topics are left when we've exhausted the superficial details, but what's the point if I don't open my mouth the whole time? Did I mention I'm not a group person... I suppose we'll keep going, though, and see where it takes us.

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bump in the road (part two)

This week at work was marred by strange flashbacks from two years ago. Different situation, same awkward conversations. Here I am. I look the same on the outside as I did yesterday, but inside I'm not the same.

Heading to work knowing that there's no great way to "break the news" to my manager, change my shifts, explain my foul mood. Reigning internal debates over who else to tell, who would be understanding, who would awkwardly shuffle their feet, who wouldn't notice a change in me if I just kept my mouth shut. Both situations characterized by invisible internal turmoil, the flip flop between needing to share and wanting to hide. I'd much rather let the rumor mill work its way around than to have to keep repeating myself and receiving the same reactions.

Oh, I'm so sorry. What now?
(Thank God it's not me.)

Suddenly (again) my life is filled with an undercurrent of uncertainty and helplessness. Unknowingly say the wrong thing and you might find me fighting back tears or the urge to punch someone. If I had to choose losing pregnancy to losing my main source of income, I'd pick my husband's lay off any day. But it still sucks.

~~~~

So many things change when you become a mother. And yet, so many things that you imagine will change actually stay the same. To the heartbreak of many, motherhood graces you with a fresh outlook on life but no sudden ability to alter the course of the universe.

I had visions in my head of what life would be like as a mother. A house, a backyard, pancakes for breakfast, wonderful outdoor adventures, reading books together in bed. As the list grows, however, I realize that it's rather material. Those things sure help you feel like a good mother, but they are not really the meaning of motherhood.

I had imagined that as as a mother I would suddenly be in control, at least of my own life. Debt (because I'm still young and I insist on learning all my lessons the hard way) would be swept away with the graceful appearance of our daughter. Work would never be too hard, days would never be too long, and we would never forget to enjoy each other and take a yearly vacation. And knowing the miracle that is any living child, even sitting up at night with a sick child would never seem overwhelming.

The economy, though I'm loathe to finally confess it, has hit us, has darkened my outlook on so many things and keeps me from feeling like a good accomplished mother. Nowhere in my motherly day dreams did the words unemployment, WIC, or welfare cross my mind. Not for me, not as a mother, no way. Sure, we've always just snuck by paycheck to paycheck and on the good graces of our loving extended family, but we'd always had a steady, stable kind of job. I always felt that we were lucky, but hard working, and somehow better than immune from having to lean on the government.

I suddenly feel humbled and on the brink of tears to realize that this might soon be our road. A new road, not a bad road, not a shameful road, just a different road. I'm certain Bella will never say, Remember those days when I was a baby and Daddy lost his job and you couldn't buy me all those things that I never wanted or needed anyways? I know she has no clue, and her smile refreshes me and carries me through to the next minute. But honestly, what a feeling to want to give her everything but not have the power. All things in time, but I've never been patient.

I think my parents must have made it look too easy, set the bar too high. Of course, no matter how much they may have told me (this very moment they're probably sitting, recalling specific conversations that I tuned out), I'm sure I'd still be learning it the hard way. I ought to be used to it by now.

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Fricking Fate

I try not to be a superstitious person. I feel like there's not enough room in the universe for there to be spirits and fate and then throw in a little Murphy's Law because things just aren't exciting enough as is. But I've had too many nights like this to kick my superstitious habits.

Yes, it's 2am am I'm lying here with the snoring husband and the twitchy daughter who have both managed to fall back into their respective grumpy slumbers after yet another bedtime puke mishap. My foul self is too annoyed to sleep because I cockily assumed we were in the clear and decided it would be okay to go to bed with a towel at the ready instead of beneath us. I even did my best to make sure the first feeding of the night was not too large, to keep from upsetting that delicate little belly.

Alas, a second night feeding, a moment of Oh No There Goes The Gag Reflex Brace Yourself, a sponge bath, a fresh bout of tears on Bella's behalf, and a sour husband later, no one is safe- not even the comforter. Tomorrow, for everyone's sake (especially if I get around to washing the bed) we'll be sleeping again on a towel. At least until the puke-free days outnumber the pukey ones. Knock on wood.

~~~~

Seriously. While I'm transcribing this from my scrap of paper that I wrote last night, Bella gets a hold of the tiniest piece of paper imaginable and proceeds to expel it and her dinner all over the carpet. And THEN I picked up my computer which I had placed off my lap onto an ottoman to run to the rescue of the carpet daughter, and realized I had set it on a runaway chocolate chip. Now myself, the ottoman and the computer are covered in melted chocolate. Ahhh. I wonder if taking a shower at this hour would be too much temptation for fate. At least I don't plan to have any company any time soon who can't handle the smell of raising a child...

And now to end on a more peaceful note:

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Christmas is all around

For those of us in the retail world, the holiday season is in full swing. And although I find myself commiserating with friends and coworkers about Christmas trees before Halloween! and Oh those dastardly songs! and How much more of this can we take! I still find myself giddy as the season approaches. The house is too cold? Why not make a pumpkin pie! If there's no one home but me, no one will know I'm listening to Christmas CDs. (Hey, it's all brand new to Bella!) And so what if I wrap empty boxes just so I can enjoy their splendor. I certainly don't have the means or foresight to keep real presents around the whole season.

I still begrudge the material focus that persists through the season, but to me it's balanced out by the extra glow and sparkle peaking around every corner. When it comes to consumption we are always faced with filtering out the good from the bad. Take the family time, the pretty trees, the hint of snow, and ignore the noisy plastic toys that represent satisfaction for 30.7 seconds.

People will come around eventually and refocus on what truly matters. Take, for example, my dear Container Store, which specifically strives to separate itself from the religion in the season: Gift Wrap Wonderland consisting solely of Santa, reindeer, and snowy scenes. Three years ago they introduced their first religious themed gift wrap, a beautiful nativity montage. It flew almost literally out the door and they struggle to keep it in stock each year. And finally they have added another. (Apparently supply and demand does work.)

The music, on the other hand, remains completely secular. Sixteen versions of Santa Baby, three White Christmasses, and twelve Frosty the Snowmans. Yes, it gets old fast, but I just talk over it and show people how to make the most beautiful bows to put on their perfectly wrapped boxes (presentation does matter!). And at least it means that I can come home and enjoy Oh Holy Night and Carol of the Bells with fresh ears. A win win situation if you ask me.

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