We Are Family

A few words about family....

I'm in the middle of enjoying my long and delicious Christmas break, so it's natural to be thinking about family.

I got to spend a lot of time with mine over Christmas, but this year we added a little Miles to the mix.  Our usual cashew chicken and fried rice on Christmas Eve was peppered with a nap for Miles, keeping him entertained in the high chair during dinner, and trying to keep our cocktail-induced giggling to a dull roar during games and jam sessions (featuring Gammy on the drums, of course).  It was as fun as ever, even though Robert and I were a little sleep-deprived -- which I'm sure was payback for all my bragging about 8 hours' sleep a few weeks ago.
Christmas morning was adorable - watching Miles eat each and every bow and not care much for any new toy or book, (though he did look at his new Elmo toy with some interest, and he now loves climbing on his Weeble toy.)
Then just this evening we got to spend time with Robert's mom, Monie.  She probably sees us about once a month now that we have Miles, and she was so surprised at how much he's doing now.  He blew her away with his crawling and standing skills.
At dinner he sat in a high chair like a big boy and ate with gusto the pea puree I had made for him.
When Monie left, she remarked how sweet and happy he is, and I felt the surge of pride that has become familiar to me as a Mama.  But I also felt very grateful.
I realize I have more than most people - not just more presents under the tree, but more people who love me and our little family.

It's humbling to be reminded of those who don't have it as easy or as good as I do.  Like Monie, who had Robert at 17, or my own mom who grew up without a dad, or countless friends I have who have had very hard lives.

I'm incredibly grateful for my family - the little one who lives here under this roof as well as the rest of them who live away.

My cup runneth over.  I know I'm lucky, and I just hope I'm able to pass down some of that luck, humility and love to my baby boy.

Big Boy

My little man is completely weaned from nursing now, and he's already starting to feed himself from his own bottle.  Though it is adorable watching him learn, it's also a little sad how fast he's becoming so grown up.  It's such a weird paradox of emotions.  I love watching him gain his independence and can't wait for him to start talking and walking, yet I want to hold on to the baby he is.  I think I'm starting to understand why people do this more than once...

Poppies will put them to sleeeeep.... Sleeeeeep

So my baby slept from 8:15 last night until 6:15 this morning. 

It.
Was.
Marvelous.

I can't even remember the last time I had 8 consecutive hours of sleep.  It truly is a beautiful thing.  My neck doesn't feel tight.  My eyes weren't baggy and squinchy this morning when I woke up.  I actually feel rested. 

My friend Austin asked me the other day what to do to prepare for the baby he and his wife are expecting in June.  I said sleep now, while you can.  He laughed - because he doesn't get it yet. 

Nothing can quite prepare you for the lack of sleep that just becomes a part of life when you're a parent.  It's not like college - where you choose not to sleep all week so you can study (i.e., party) but then make up by gorging on sleep all of Sunday. 

There IS no making up for it --
until your baby decides to let you.
(Thank you, Miles!)

Now if I could just figure out how to fit in exercise, I think I might have this juggling act / parent thing down!

Little Crawler

This weekend my little man started learning how to crawl.  It was so amazing watching him understand the cause / effect relationthip.  Move leg, push with foot, support with arms.  We motivated him with a remote on the carpet situated just far enough out of reach - this could probably be a commentary on our society's dependance on technology, but whatever!  It got him to do it!  By the way, he was also motivated by his plastic trumpet, so maybe that means he'll grow up to be a wonderful musician like his Daddy.  But probably it just means he likes the color yellow.

Either way, I was very proud of him.  It is so rewarding to see him experience for the first time things that I take for granted every day.  Like words and food and moving my body.  He's learning new things all the time.  Some of them are sweet, like his ability to recognize faces and voices.  And some of them are not so sweet, like this very male grunting thing he's doing now. 
But I feel lucky to be a part of it all. 

My baby is crawling!  Time to put up the baby gates and plug the outlets!

Morning Commute

Two things of interest happened this cold Monday on our way to school.

When I was backing out of my garage, I "shushed" the car.  Seriously. 

Sunny (that's my car) always goes "beep beep beep" when I put her in reverse -- it's to politely remind me not to hit the side of the garage.  This morning I said "Sh Sh Sh" in response. 

I guess once you're a mama, you're liable to go maternal on everybody, including inanimate objects. 

On the ride in, Miles was chilling in the backseat, looking adorable as usual with his little hat on and pacifier in, tugging on the toy dangling from his carseat handle.  I'm currently obsessed with Brandi Carlile, thanks to the amazing concert I went to Friday night, so I was jamming to her album Give Up the Ghost, and I got a little teary at the first line of the song "If There Was No You."  I had to play it over again at least three times.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHolyGQy0mU

She sings "When I see myself I'm seeing you too... nothing you could do could make me turn my back on you."  I thought of my little man and how much he has changed my life.  How I can't wait to see what he does and who he becomes. 

And I felt incredibly grateful. 

That's all.

Stopping

I'm in the process of stopping nursing.  Someone today asked me why.  Why am I not waiting until Miles is a year old?  Why now?  Part of me wanted to get defensive - it's my decision, it's my baby and my body and none of your business.  But instead I was just honest. 
I'm done with it. 
I'm ready. 
It's time. 
Then the conversation turned to the weirdos (yep, I said it, but you don't have to agree with me) who nurse their children into elementary school. 
 
Now that I've made the decision and have started pumping less often, I have to give myself permission to feel all of feelings that go along with stopping. 

There is guilt.  I feel guilty for the money we could be saving and guilty for the nutrition I've chosen to stop giving my child.  Because I could do it longer - I've made it this far.  I could try to make it a year.  Every time I dip into the $25 can of Similac and see that it's nearly time to buy a new one, I have doubts. 
 
But there is also relief.  Being a parent, and especially (I think) being a Mama, is hard enough.  To take away a little of the stress by making it not ALL my responsibility to create and supply the food - that feels amazing.  It feels like my load is a little lighter.  I am excited not to have to leave my teaching partner alone with 60 kids so I can go pump.  I am excited to drink more than one cup of coffee or have a soda at lunch if I damn well please.  I am excited to have a martini. 

There is trepidation.  Will my baby thrive as well on formula? (If you've seen the size of my child, you know this is a silly question. But it's one I ask myself nonetheless.)  Will he miss the closeness of our time together?  I know I will. 

But mostly there is the peace because I know in my gut that it is time.  Yes, I will miss the quiet moments that used to belong to just him and me.  Yes, I will have to start watching what I eat again.  But it feels right to do it now.  So I am. 

And it's okay. 

I'll take my martini filthy dirty and up, by the way.

A Poem to Read

If 

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;

If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

-         Rudyard Kipling