Being Overrun

Well friends, the belly is taking over. Or at least I should say, the girl inside the belly is taking over. This little one has a mind of her own. She is pretty mobile for only being about one pound and the size of a bunch of grapes, at least that is what my Ovia Pregnancy App says. Not only is she kicking and bumping up a storm at the most inconvenient times, but she is also taking over my brain, aka my Pinterest account. 

I have boards and boards dedicated to this pregnancy. Everything from Baby Girl's Room and Baby Girl's Clothes to Dressing this Bump and Exercising with this Bump. It is so amazing how fully I have flung myself into the idea of having a girl--and at the same time not. More and more often I am disappointed by all the frills and bows and pink that come common with a baby girl. Truly I am not the pretty, pretty princess type and for some reason I keep feeling adamant about my little girl not being that way either. Guess that is a sure guarantee she will be the girliest, girl of them all right? Anyway, despite the not so girl things I am going through, there ARE so many things I am smitten with that come along with the idea of having a baby girl. 

There are so many things I want to cultivate in her, so many things I want to teach her. I cannot wait to watch K.B. share is monster trucks and his Superheroes with her. I cannot wait for them to wrestle and play in the grass together. I am so looking forward to the gentleness and meekness that comes with a small infant being around the house. It is all going to be so new and all-encompassing. As you can see, I am already overrun by this baby girl. 

A girl! A girl! A girl!

Ok, I think I am done for now. 

Summer Sidewalk Chalk

Well, things have cooled down a little bit the last couple of days, and we are grateful. It has been wickedly hot this summer. The yards and the residents have needed this overcast and moisture, pretty badly in fact. So when this respite finally came, Littleman and I snatched up our colorful, overflowing bucket of chalk and went outside to draw. 

I think we have a very artistic boy on our hands. He will sit for at least an hour on the kitchen floor with his colored pencils and a notebook. I get him started by drawing a few of his favorite things (i.e. ball, house, beep beep, choo choo, and lella) and then he is off. He will scribble and talk, point with his fingers, and call me over every once in a while to show off his handy work. I am always in awe of how long this simple activity will hold his attention. 

Now, move that outside with chalk, and you have an exponential amount of singular mindedness. He will not move from that spot until it is absolutely necessary, and even then I must drag him away. Today we were drawing outside when Superman called and needed a ride home from the Trax station. We had just barely sat down to start coloring on the sidewalk and already I was going to have to persuade the boy it was time to go. Yeesh! That was not a task I wanted to undertake without being properly armed.

So I ran up the porch steps and collected the diaper bag and my shoes. Then I quickly ducked inside to grab the one and only thing I knew would trump sidewalk chalk. A brand new Hotwheels. I dashed back outside, started cleaning up the chalk, and when the protests started I handed over the car, still in the packaging. "BEEP BEEP!" he exclaimed. Then he passed it to his other hand, admiring it diligently. I quickly cleaned up the rest of the chalk, stashed it in the garage, and loaded the kid in the car seat, all without a single squawk. I opened the package for him and he didn't stop talking about his new "blue beep beep" the entire drive. 

Yep, this was one moment as a mommy when I was on the ball. Today, I got this!

    

The First Hair Cut

Well folks, we did it, sort of. We sort of did it. We gave this kid a hair cut. Honestly, the mullet hair was making me a little crazy. It was poking out around his ears, sticking awkwardly out of his shirt collars, and getting boogies tangled in it when he slept. Seriously, this morning there was a boogie dreadlock in the front of his hair I had to wipe at repeatedly with a warm sponge to untangle. Gross! It simply had to go, at least a little bit of it. So we had G.G. come over with her new, stellar hair clippers and go to work. 

Littleman was awesome for his first experience with a buzzing shaving device touching his head. He was curious at first and just sat there. After a couple of passes he got bored and wanted out of the highchair, but he didn't fuss or throw a fit. He just wobbled his head and raised his arms a bit. It only took about 5 mins to trim up the back and even out the sides. Not bad at all! Then we were done. There was a small heap of hair on the floor and a deliciously visible neck. I'm in love!

G.G. asked if I wanted to sweep up the little heap of blonde hair to keep in a memory book. I was like, ick no. I think I will have plenty of pictures to prove just how blonde and hairy this little boy was. No need to save the trimmings. But, now that they are collected in the dusty vacuum I kinda wish I HAD kept them. What if I want to feel that soft precious baby hair again? What if, starting now, my Littleman's hair starts to get darker and darker? What a bunch of regrets I had suddenly come up with getting all sentimental about a heap of hair. Sheesh! Mother stuff, it can be crazy sometimes. 

No, I didn't sift through the vacuum and sort out his hair. I'm not that desperate. But I am going to miss this little blonde, 18 MO!!!! head of hair. I can't believe it. He was officially 18 months as of yesterday. They grow way too fast. 

Baby Teenager

Sometimes I dress this kid up like a teenager on purpose. I give him a rock and roll tee and some denim, then BAM I can see what he might just look like at 12 or 13. It doesn't help that he is the spitting image of Superman and I've seen pics of him as a teen. The resemblance is startling, it really is. I compare the two and I suddenly start catching sight of what sports, high school, acne, and teen drama might look like on my own son. Ah! And I know it will come all too soon.

 These littlest glimpses into the future, while they scare the heck out of me, are also oddly fascinating at the same time. During these catches of light my role as his mommy gets jarred back into perspective. All the time I have spent wallowing comes to a halt. I stop feeling insignificant and unimportant. I stop feeling sorry for myself and unproductive. I stop feeling depressed about the seemingly mundane tasks of my everyday. The negative stops and I start feeling something heavier, but in a happy way.

When I think of my Littleman's future I start understanding just how critical it is for me to help this kid not grow up too fast. I recognize just how special every single day of his childhood really is. I see my mommy role become as lofty as any CEO or practicing physician. I am important. The work I do in my home is the most significant work I will ever do. Where I am right now, showing this kid the ins and outs of life, is the only thing I need to be doing because all too soon he will be grown up and gone. He will be out tackling the scary world all on his own. I need to build the foundation so he can stand on his own two feet and hold his head up high. It is intimidating, oh yes. But it is also something I am meant to do. 

Until then, we will just dress up like teenagers and play like toddlers. 

     

A Well Kept Secret for a Happy Mommy

Being a mommy is the most fulfilling job I have ever done. We have our moments, rest assured, but for the most part K.B. and I have a long expanse of lovely, loving days behind us. The secret to our success? It honestly is the quiet moments I have to myself. These brief windows of time during naps or in the shower or when G.G. takes the boy for the evening; these moments apart give my heart time for meditation and give me time to miss my little boy. 

Granted, these moments of solace can be few and far between during cranky teething days, but for the most part I have at least a full hour of time every single day all to myself. Sometimes it is a staggering of 10 minutes here and there. Sometimes it comes in one big chunk of time. Sometimes I have even longer depending on whether or not the "45 minute intruder" completely ruins a nap or simply causes a rolling over in the crib. In the early stages of mommy hood I struggled with making time for everything. While baby was sleeping I was always torn; should I get housework done or take a nap with him? I tried to busy myself on some days with chores, but this made me more frazzled and stretched. I also tried always taking naps, but that just made me feel frumpy and lagging. So now, nearly a year later, I have found the happy place. 

K.B. is on a regular schedule, almost to the button, and this makes naps very easy to predict and accommodate. We snuggle into the deep recesses of the couch, I fold down a corner of his blanket and tuck it under his arms, and we click on a dvd. Within minutes the Littleman has flopped his head against my chest and is out. I snuggle with him for a few minutes longer before moving him to his playpen or crib for the rest of his nap. Then, instead of taking on the mounting pile of laundry or a crowded sink of dishes, I take time for myself. Just a little quiet time to process the day. 

I take those quiet moments to just feel good about where I am and what I am doing. I think about the things I have accomplished, the tasks I have completed. Sometimes I will read a book or listen to music, but mostly I will just sit in the quiet with an always handy 3x5 card and pen. Sometimes I will write things down. Sometimes I will walk away and the card is still blank. The most important thing I do is fill myself full of gratitude, happy thoughts, and a few aspirations. When the nap is over, the quite moment through, I am thoroughly missing my baby boy. I am missing his messes and his musings. I am missing his diapers and his crusty face. I am missing his little hands getting into everything I am trying to do. This missing grows my love deeper and makes every moment a little happier. 

There it is, another secret, another mommy lesson I have learned in the past year. 

Super Mommy Powers

When I was brand new mommy material I felt like I couldn't get anything right. Every effort of every day was devoted to perfecting baby's latch, bathing him, changing diapers, and putting him to sleep. I was so caught up in taking care of him I didn't even realize the evolution happening in myself. I must have been bit by some type of radioactive spider because I developed a number of skills over the course of these 8 months I never thought possible of my clumsy, distractable, former pre-mommy self. 

Nursing and clipping baby's finger nails at the same time without hurting him or me.
Moping the entire kitchen floor and entryway in under 15 minutes.
Drinking more water than a desert camel without having to hit up the restroom every hour.
Washing a writhing, wriggling, squirming baby.
Dish washing as a routine instead of a fluke accident.
Cooking tilapia and cauliflower.
Full control and power over my gag reflex.
Expert boogie snatcher and dispeller.

Those are just a handful of my newly discovered super human powers. Mommyhood really changes a person. This I now thoroughly recognize. This Littleman makes even the most mundane tasks feel like grand accomplishments and I love it! Being a mom, his mom, is the best gift. I thought staying home day in and day out raising this boy would have me banging my head against the wall out of boredom. Certainly not the case here. I love being with him, watching him, discovering with him. There are so many changes happening in him regularly that I can't believe how far he has come in just 8 short months.

Waking Baby Syndrome

I know you are generally not supposed to wake your baby, but what about making them sleep longer? I swear naps around here only last about forty minutes on average, and that happens only two or three times a day. This guy is only five months old and already resisting the afternoon naps! Gimme a break!

Lately it has really started taking a tole on my ability to get any professional work done, let alone housework. I am up to the windows with laundry and up to the rafters, if I had such a thing, in dirty dishes. These two chores are my least favorite of all and I don't mind putting them off because baby won't sleep. Unfortunately it is getting ridiculous. Can other mommies really manage to keep it all together with more than one child? I bow down at your magnanimous homemaking, housekeeping, child rearing skills. As for me and my house, we are not quite there yet. In fact, this castle is closed until further notice.

Except, hurrah, I have recently found a little compromise. If I hold him, it all changes. If I hold him, I can get a good two hours of him sleeping. There we are, baby, mommy, and laptop all cuddled on the big bed. Baby drools and sweats on my shirt while I tickle to the keyboard somewhat efficiently. The minute he grunts and wiggles I just start rocking, and BAM, back to sleep. I keep the binks close by so the next time he wriggles I can just insert it in the slot for another thirty minutes of prolonged napitued. It is foolproof aside from the fact that I still can't do laundry and dishes.

Sometimes though, it feels like I'm cheating him somehow. Like this is some magic spell I use to keep him away form the discoveries of the world. Who needs poison apples or a spinning wheel when a breast pillow is just as effective? When he is out, and mommy is holding him, he is dead to the world. This the very same world he should be taking every opportunity to discover during these, the most informative and formative years of his life.  Every once in a small while I will feel guilty about this cuddling trickery to gain just a few more moments of work time. I am keeping him from laughing and smiling. I am keeping him from playing. I am, in its most pure essence, keeping him from happiness. I am the evil queen of all the Disney movies.

I'm lucky too, because though I am the evil queen keeping him asleep I also get to be the princess to kiss his forehead and wake him up. I get to be the first to see his sleepy eyes open, to see his little mouth quirk in a smile. I get to be the first to watch him stretch and reach out his little hands. I get to see him reawaken to the world, fully rested and ready for more laughing, learning, and loving. Mommyhood, my favorite job.

Binky vs Thumbsucker

This was a real debate in my mind for the longest time. Actually, at first it was just binky or no binky, that was the question. I refused to use a pacifier because baby cried for two reasons: wet diaper or hungry. Otherwise the little man was an angel. Pish! Who needed binkys anyways? Not I. I am Mommy, hear me roar. Well I was off to a great two week start and the binky was rarely needed, if ever. Then suddenly the whining started. Not the I am hungry cry, not the I am wet cry, and not the I am tired cry. It was just crying for the sake of making noise. It wasn't loud, but it was persistent until you held him just so or bouced him like that. I was strong, no binky, at least at first there was no binky. Unfortunately the crying became more of an issue a few weeks after my mandate.

Putting baby in the car seat one afternoon he pitched a royal. He grunted and protested in the newbornish way. Again, not loud, but definitely noticeable. I had a few binkys from my baby showers so I scampered to where they waited, washed and unused, and corked it. Sudden peace and quiet. That was when I first experienced it, the miracle that was binky. Of course baby soon zonked off and the Nuk was no longer needed. Again I thought, pish! Who needs binkys all the time? Not I. I am Mommy, hear me roar, but quietly cause, you know, little man is asleep in the car seat without his binky. 

Next up, two month appointment. Nothing can prepare you for this first match up with the doc, nothing. Get baby naked, measured, and weighed. All good. Get baby dropper medicine and examined by the doc, all good (even the turn your head and cough while I check under this diaper). Hold his patty-cakes patty-cakes and count to three, THE WORST GAME IN THE WORLD! I remember on this first visit those little blue eyes all happy and smiling, then suddenly silent shock. Then almost simultaneously I watched as betrayal, horror, resentment, and finally pain crossed his scrunched and red face. I had to blow on him so he would take a breath. Nurses slapped on the band aids and got outta dodge, leaving my husband and I with this never before seen banshee. My babe was a quite crier until this appointment. No longer. He weeped, wailed, and gnashed his gums. I saw parts of his throat I never thought would be visible. It was horrendous. Then, there it was, the bink. We got baby dressed and after about one minute of trying to soothe him myself I gave him the bink. He was still blatantly upset, but after a moment he figured out something was in his mouth and quieted. After that day I said goodbye to infant baby cries and hello to howler monkey and a lot more time with Mr. Binks. 

We started out with the Gumdrop brand binks because of praises from my cousin. At first I just thought he would eventually figure out how to keep it in himself. It was not working. As baby grew more and more attached to the bink, my hand grew more and more attached to him. Despite sucking for hours every day he still could not keep the dern thing in to save his life. Then heaven forbid the thing ever fell out before he conked off. Unfortunately I could no longer pish nor roar. At his slightest provocation I would pop that bink right in place and hold it all day if that meant the wailing was silenced. I never, ever wanted to be "that mom," the one who shoved in the bink and ruined her son's ability to self-sooth as well as his teeth. Now, I am her through and through. This is because I have come to an important conclusion. This kid likes to suck and it is either his fingers or his binky, and I can't take his fingers away later. 

A few weeks ago we found it, after several failed attempts, the binky that works! They are the Avent brand and he had a knack for them right away. That was when it became all too easy to turn in to "that mom." Gone were the days I had to hold that bink in for hours on end. Gone were the needed back seat riding days. And with all that went my resolve about the no binky policy. The binky is convenient, can double as a distraction, and keeps baby from embarrassing me (with his mouth and wailing at least) in church. I came to the crossroads and chose the easier way. Am I ashamed? A little, I'll admit. 

This kid is the prize in my cereal box, my Christmas morning, my joy of life, but that binky, THAT THING, is going to be the death of me. Little boy is now an addict. Put him in the car seat, binky. Put him in the crib, binky. Even trying to nurse him sometimes, I need to start with the binky. Otherwise welcome to melt down central. Mr. Binky, Paci, Binks or whatever you want to be called, I hate you, and when this guy turns two you are gone! Out of our lives! We are breaking up that very day! Until then, we can be frienemies, but nothing more.