Sometimes I just need a fucking break. To read a book in peace. To cry. To laugh. To sleep.
Sometimes I just need a chance to be me. To be Clara. Not Dave's wife or Dylan's mommy or Sasha's mommy or my parents' daughter.
Sometimes I just want to be defined as myslef. And then I wonder - Do I even know myself anymore? Do I know what I would do if I didn't have my family to take care of, my job to do? Who the hell am I? What are my interests? What do I like to do? I like to go to movies, museums, plays, concerts. I like to read, cook and go to happy hour with friends.
I don't remember the last time I did any of those things, with the exception of reading, for the just the pleasure of it. I think I need to figure out how to bring those things back to my life. Any ideas?
Friday, September 28, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
A parent's job
As parents it is our job to worry. Our job to take every little thing they do, or don't do, and examine it. Look at that action from every different angle and try to discern whether or not it's "normal." Whatever "normal" means.
There are times I worry about Dylan. Ask him a question and the answer may or may not make sense. It might be related to the question or it might be a verbalization of whatever is going on in his head at that moment. There are times he says things with perfect pronunciation that make perfect sense and sound so advanced for his age. Yet there are others that he babbles whatever is going on his head. I look at his peers and I see this is fairly normal.
There was a time, a few years ago, when I was worried. Dylan exhibited some early signs of Autism that were hard to ignore. Everything had to be sorted by color, by size, by shape, by type. Everything had to be just so. He was so particular from such an early age that it freaked me out. I would see that behavior and be scared of what it could mean. It meant nothing. Luckily, I know enough about Autism to know that socialization is really the biggest indicator of whether or not a child is on "the spectrum." Anyone who has met Dylan know he is very social. It was the one thing that put my mind at ease.
Today I worry that he won't be ready for kindergarten next year. That he still won't have the concentration it takes to sit still and listen. The comprehension to learn the things he needs to learn. Then I think about it. Why the hell am I worried about something that is in a year? What the hell is wrong with me that I don't see the progress he has made in the last year? I think back to swimming lessons last fall. He couldn't keep his head out of the water long enough to listen. He didn't yet have respect for the teacher/student relationship. This year he sits quietly and listens to the teacher. He focuses on what he is being taught and makes a real effort. He has come so far.
I am so confident that he will grow to be an intelligent, wonderful child who is creative and whimsical. That he will be compassionate and kind. I try to remain confident that he will be ready to make the leap into kindergarten next year. And you know what? If he isn't, does it really fucking matter? Does it matter if he goes to school at 6 rather than at 5? No, it doesn't. A dear friend went through kindergarten twice because his mother felt he wasn't ready to move on. Well, he proceeded to graduate from both undergrad and his MBA program something Cum Laude.
Then I look at what he is supposed to be able to accomplish at the end of kindergarten and he has 95% of it already mastered. I guess I really don't need to worry.
But I will, because that is my job.
There are times I worry about Dylan. Ask him a question and the answer may or may not make sense. It might be related to the question or it might be a verbalization of whatever is going on in his head at that moment. There are times he says things with perfect pronunciation that make perfect sense and sound so advanced for his age. Yet there are others that he babbles whatever is going on his head. I look at his peers and I see this is fairly normal.
There was a time, a few years ago, when I was worried. Dylan exhibited some early signs of Autism that were hard to ignore. Everything had to be sorted by color, by size, by shape, by type. Everything had to be just so. He was so particular from such an early age that it freaked me out. I would see that behavior and be scared of what it could mean. It meant nothing. Luckily, I know enough about Autism to know that socialization is really the biggest indicator of whether or not a child is on "the spectrum." Anyone who has met Dylan know he is very social. It was the one thing that put my mind at ease.
Today I worry that he won't be ready for kindergarten next year. That he still won't have the concentration it takes to sit still and listen. The comprehension to learn the things he needs to learn. Then I think about it. Why the hell am I worried about something that is in a year? What the hell is wrong with me that I don't see the progress he has made in the last year? I think back to swimming lessons last fall. He couldn't keep his head out of the water long enough to listen. He didn't yet have respect for the teacher/student relationship. This year he sits quietly and listens to the teacher. He focuses on what he is being taught and makes a real effort. He has come so far.
I am so confident that he will grow to be an intelligent, wonderful child who is creative and whimsical. That he will be compassionate and kind. I try to remain confident that he will be ready to make the leap into kindergarten next year. And you know what? If he isn't, does it really fucking matter? Does it matter if he goes to school at 6 rather than at 5? No, it doesn't. A dear friend went through kindergarten twice because his mother felt he wasn't ready to move on. Well, he proceeded to graduate from both undergrad and his MBA program something Cum Laude.
Then I look at what he is supposed to be able to accomplish at the end of kindergarten and he has 95% of it already mastered. I guess I really don't need to worry.
But I will, because that is my job.
Monday, September 17, 2007
A year ago
Today is one year since I found out I was pregnant. Since the little line on the stick finally turned a color after 5 months of blanks. One year since I found out that, once again, my life would be turned upside down in the most amazing way.
A year ago I was dealing with some of the same things I am dealing with now with one very significant difference - this year it's because of my amazing 4 month-old and last year it was because of the promise of a baby.
Exhaustion then = early pregnancy
Exhaustion now = a baby who doesn't sleep through the night yet
Sore breasts then = early pregnancy
Sore breasts now = breastfeeding
Poochy tummy then = early pregnancy
Poochy tummy now = 2 kids, 'nuf said
One year ago I was in disbelief that it was finally happening. I was scared about what the future would bring. I was hoping with all of my being that I would carry this pregnancy to term. That I would once again be lucky enough to have a healthy baby. I was nervous about how Dylan would react to a new little person in the house. I was scared about how I would deal with another baby. I was scared about how another baby would affect my marriage.
This year, I get to look at the beutiful little girl I gave birth to and be in awe of her. This year I get to hold my baby in my arms and squeeze her tight. This year, I get to look at my family and wonder if it might be complete rather than knowing it wasn't yet. This year I get to see my husband be an amazing father to another lucky child. This year I get to swell with pride as I watch the two most beautiful children I have ever seen interact with each other. This year I get to say, "Yes, it's great to have one of each." This year, the dream of being a mother to a son and a daughter is no longer a dream, it's reality.
And it's the most amazing reality I could imagine.
A year ago I was dealing with some of the same things I am dealing with now with one very significant difference - this year it's because of my amazing 4 month-old and last year it was because of the promise of a baby.
Exhaustion then = early pregnancy
Exhaustion now = a baby who doesn't sleep through the night yet
Sore breasts then = early pregnancy
Sore breasts now = breastfeeding
Poochy tummy then = early pregnancy
Poochy tummy now = 2 kids, 'nuf said
One year ago I was in disbelief that it was finally happening. I was scared about what the future would bring. I was hoping with all of my being that I would carry this pregnancy to term. That I would once again be lucky enough to have a healthy baby. I was nervous about how Dylan would react to a new little person in the house. I was scared about how I would deal with another baby. I was scared about how another baby would affect my marriage.
This year, I get to look at the beutiful little girl I gave birth to and be in awe of her. This year I get to hold my baby in my arms and squeeze her tight. This year, I get to look at my family and wonder if it might be complete rather than knowing it wasn't yet. This year I get to see my husband be an amazing father to another lucky child. This year I get to swell with pride as I watch the two most beautiful children I have ever seen interact with each other. This year I get to say, "Yes, it's great to have one of each." This year, the dream of being a mother to a son and a daughter is no longer a dream, it's reality.
And it's the most amazing reality I could imagine.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Another actual conversation
Dylan: Daddy, don't do that again or I will put you in time out.
Dave: Dylan, you can't put me in time out.
Dylan: Daddy, you go SIT IN THE CAR. The POLICE will come and TAKE YOU AWAY!
Dave: Dylan, you can't put me in time out.
Dylan: Daddy, you go SIT IN THE CAR. The POLICE will come and TAKE YOU AWAY!
Saturday, September 08, 2007
6 years
This is what 6 years into being old and married looks like...
I suck at the self portrait but the smiles are real. During the last 6 years I have experienced some of the best, and worst, days of my life. There are times when things have been hard, but always worth it. In the last 6 years, I have never once regretted marrying the wonderful man by my side. I married the best man in the world for me and I wouldn't change it for anything.
I love you, Davey.
I suck at the self portrait but the smiles are real. During the last 6 years I have experienced some of the best, and worst, days of my life. There are times when things have been hard, but always worth it. In the last 6 years, I have never once regretted marrying the wonderful man by my side. I married the best man in the world for me and I wouldn't change it for anything.
I love you, Davey.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Can I get some wine with his wHining?
Dylan has been whining. It's driving me fucking nuts. He whines and cries about everything. The simplest request is a whine. We keep telling him to use his pretty voice and it works for a second. I haven't had the heart to just ignore him, but we're getting there.
He seems to be going through a little phase of being afraid and emotional about everything. If he doesn't want something he says it's scary or he's afraid. His eyes well up with tears at the drop of a hat. I'm not sure what's going on, but I think I have a pretty good idea.
The novelty of his sister has worn off.
Dylan was the center of our universe for over 4 years. A new little person has been on the scene for over 3 months now and I think it's starting to get a little old. She gets what she wants by crying so why shouldn't he? I imagine this is how the 4-year-old mind works.
It seems like the 4-year-old mind is in a strange place between toddler and kid. A little land where everything is the end of the world and you're not quite sure why. You know what you want and what you don't, but you're not quite sure why. You know the simple rules of right from wrong, but you aren't quite sure why one thing is right and the other is wrong.
The problem is that even if the 4-year-old mind asks why, it isn't quite mature enough to fully understand the answer.
As a parent, it's hard to look at the big kid standing in front of me and not to expect big kid behavior. Especially when the 4-year-old in question looks like he is 6. I have to constantly remind myself that he is still little. That he still needs snuggles and love and cuddles and his mommy to wipe away his tears. That he will always need those things.
But in the meantime, for the love of the mommy, please stop the whining.
He seems to be going through a little phase of being afraid and emotional about everything. If he doesn't want something he says it's scary or he's afraid. His eyes well up with tears at the drop of a hat. I'm not sure what's going on, but I think I have a pretty good idea.
The novelty of his sister has worn off.
Dylan was the center of our universe for over 4 years. A new little person has been on the scene for over 3 months now and I think it's starting to get a little old. She gets what she wants by crying so why shouldn't he? I imagine this is how the 4-year-old mind works.
It seems like the 4-year-old mind is in a strange place between toddler and kid. A little land where everything is the end of the world and you're not quite sure why. You know what you want and what you don't, but you're not quite sure why. You know the simple rules of right from wrong, but you aren't quite sure why one thing is right and the other is wrong.
The problem is that even if the 4-year-old mind asks why, it isn't quite mature enough to fully understand the answer.
As a parent, it's hard to look at the big kid standing in front of me and not to expect big kid behavior. Especially when the 4-year-old in question looks like he is 6. I have to constantly remind myself that he is still little. That he still needs snuggles and love and cuddles and his mommy to wipe away his tears. That he will always need those things.
But in the meantime, for the love of the mommy, please stop the whining.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Actual comments from the boy
I've been keeping a log of the funny things D says. Here are some of the highlights...
"Mommy, my butt is broken. Can you fix it?" - after discovering his pj's had a hole
"Daddy and Ravi and me got busy at the park!" - telling me about a trip to the park
"Pacifiers, they need PACIFIERS!" - when asked what babies need
"Daddy, what's wrong with my sister?" "She's tired." "hmmm, I better go check with mommy."
"After I sleep then I will wake up."
That kid's a trip.
"Mommy, my butt is broken. Can you fix it?" - after discovering his pj's had a hole
"Daddy and Ravi and me got busy at the park!" - telling me about a trip to the park
"Pacifiers, they need PACIFIERS!" - when asked what babies need
"Daddy, what's wrong with my sister?" "She's tired." "hmmm, I better go check with mommy."
"After I sleep then I will wake up."
That kid's a trip.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Soul Mates
Some of us are lucky enough to meet our soul mates. Some of us aren't. Most of the time, we're looking for that soul mate in the wrong person. I think most people look for their soul mate in the spouse/partner. Usually we find our soul mate in a friend.
In the 7th grade I met mine. I didn't know it at the time. As a matter of fact, I didn't like her then. We grew up and changed and eventually bonded over the craziness of our Jewish families and sneaked cigarettes in the woods by her house. We stayed up until all hours playing cards and drinking coffee in our local 24 hour restaurant/hangout. We got to know each other and shared our secrets. We talked of hopes and dreams and heartaches and sadness.
We became as close as sisters and barely went a day without seeing each other until we went off to college.
She is the one who called me out when I was neglecting friendships when I first met an ex-boyfriend. She held my hand and gave me a shoulder to cry when I stuck with the boyfriend too long and when I finally ended it. She never said "I told you so" and she never pushed me before I was ready.
She was the first to meet my husband when we started dating. He was terrified. He knew how protective I was of her and he knew she would be equally protective of me. Luckily, she approved. She was the maid of honor at our wedding and we knew we had every bit of support imaginable from her.
We are a package deal, my friend and I. Both our husbands know this. They knew coming into the marriages that they are getting both of us when they marry one.
She is the first person I want to call when something happens - engagement, pregnancy, birth, jobs, etc.
She turns 30 on Monday and I wish I was there to celebrate with her. To toast her and tell her how much I love her in person. To help her have an anti-climactic 30th bday for the same reason I had one - she's due with her first little one in a few months.
So, my dear friend, I wish you all the best in life. You are as much a part of me as my family. You are the sister I never had and the best friend I always hoped I would have. You have made a foot print on my heart that will never fade. You are the one I know I can tell my secrets to and I will never be judged. The one I know I can count on for the ear I need. The one who knows when something is wrong by the tone of my voice. The only one I miss so much sometimes I want to cry. The one I hope will someday live so close that I can see you whenever I want. The one whose children I will consider my own children's cousins. The one I would trust my children to if something were to happen to us. Thank you for being you and being a part of our lives.
Happy birthday. I love you.
Friday, August 24, 2007
What next?
Ok little girl, I love you. But really, I gave up vino when I got pregnant, next came sleep, next came caffeine, then nuts and now dairy? What's next? What's left?
A day in the life...
Inspired by Susan, whose day actually starts earlier than my own, I have decided to give everyone (no one?) insight into what it's like to be me. I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.
We're starting on Wednesday night:
11:15 crawl into bed
11:45 turn off lights after some reading
12:15 baby wakes up, nurse try to get her back to bed
1am - baby asleep, crawl into bed
2 - wake because she usually wakes up at the time, mind races with all the things I have to do
4 - ditto
6:20 - the boy comes into bed
6:30 - alarm goes off because that is what time I should be getting up to make it out of the house on time if I were working, we were supposed to start dry running this week - yeah right!
7:05 - D is bored with us trying to sleep, he goes and gets his animal books to read to us
7:30 - hop in the shower
8 ish - Sasha wakes up, nurse
8:45 - Get out of the house to take D to day care, screaming by Sasha begins since we're in the car
9:15- Leave D at daycare, head home, Sasha falls asleep
9:30 - Arrive at home, stay in car reading so as not to disturb the princess
10:15 - Sasha wakes up, go inside
10:45 - change diaper, nurse
11:00- Sasha in bouncer while I do some design work on my brother's wedding invitations
11:15 - leave for lunch with some friends, catch up with a former co-worker on the way
11:30 - pick up friends, go have lunch
12:30 - drop off friends, drive home while baby screams
12:45 - arrive at home playtime for S
1:30 - nurse, baby falls asleep
2:15 - put sasha down in her crib, she's asleep, do a happy dance, more design work
3:00 - Sasha cries, go pick her up and she immediately is back asleep
3:30 - Put Sasha in crib again, try to nap for a few minutes
4:15 - Sasha wakes up, nurse
4:45 - Sasha spits up in my hair
4:50 - take another shower
5:30 - go get D
6:15 - home from daycare, start dinner
7:00 - scarf down dinner while bouncing the baby in her bouncer
7:20 - change baby into jammies, nurse while D sits in bed with me singing and talking just so he can tell me the following "Mommy, can you say 'Please stop singing, Dylan.'?" He likes to script our conversations
7:50 - baby asleep
8:05 - I THINK I'm in the clear and can put her down in a few minutes
8:08 - mini meltdown
8:19 - put down baby, go say goodnight to D, go downstairs to watch some TV, check email, etc.
9:00 - Sasha wakes up crying, Dave goes to soothe
9:15 - Sasha cries again, I go to soothe
10:00 - up to bed, pump
10:45 - lights out
3am - baby wakes and here we go again
We're starting on Wednesday night:
11:15 crawl into bed
11:45 turn off lights after some reading
12:15 baby wakes up, nurse try to get her back to bed
1am - baby asleep, crawl into bed
2 - wake because she usually wakes up at the time, mind races with all the things I have to do
4 - ditto
6:20 - the boy comes into bed
6:30 - alarm goes off because that is what time I should be getting up to make it out of the house on time if I were working, we were supposed to start dry running this week - yeah right!
7:05 - D is bored with us trying to sleep, he goes and gets his animal books to read to us
7:30 - hop in the shower
8 ish - Sasha wakes up, nurse
8:45 - Get out of the house to take D to day care, screaming by Sasha begins since we're in the car
9:15- Leave D at daycare, head home, Sasha falls asleep
9:30 - Arrive at home, stay in car reading so as not to disturb the princess
10:15 - Sasha wakes up, go inside
10:45 - change diaper, nurse
11:00- Sasha in bouncer while I do some design work on my brother's wedding invitations
11:15 - leave for lunch with some friends, catch up with a former co-worker on the way
11:30 - pick up friends, go have lunch
12:30 - drop off friends, drive home while baby screams
12:45 - arrive at home playtime for S
1:30 - nurse, baby falls asleep
2:15 - put sasha down in her crib, she's asleep, do a happy dance, more design work
3:00 - Sasha cries, go pick her up and she immediately is back asleep
3:30 - Put Sasha in crib again, try to nap for a few minutes
4:15 - Sasha wakes up, nurse
4:45 - Sasha spits up in my hair
4:50 - take another shower
5:30 - go get D
6:15 - home from daycare, start dinner
7:00 - scarf down dinner while bouncing the baby in her bouncer
7:20 - change baby into jammies, nurse while D sits in bed with me singing and talking just so he can tell me the following "Mommy, can you say 'Please stop singing, Dylan.'?" He likes to script our conversations
7:50 - baby asleep
8:05 - I THINK I'm in the clear and can put her down in a few minutes
8:08 - mini meltdown
8:19 - put down baby, go say goodnight to D, go downstairs to watch some TV, check email, etc.
9:00 - Sasha wakes up crying, Dave goes to soothe
9:15 - Sasha cries again, I go to soothe
10:00 - up to bed, pump
10:45 - lights out
3am - baby wakes and here we go again
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Caffeine Free and Half Asleep
I am currently living a caffeine free existence and it sucks. The princess gets fussy when I have caffeine. Even just a little bit. It makes me sad. It really does.
Yesterday I broke down and had to have coffee. I went to my beloved Caribou and got a half caf, skim latte with one Splenda. It was delicious. Sasha was ok, but not the best day.
This is how the night from Tuesday to Wednesday went. Lights out around 11:30 because I just can't seem to get to sleep any earlier and have a new book I'm reading so I stay up too late.
4:30 - Sasha wakes up
5:20am - Dylan comes in our room because he has to potty, crawls into bed with us (breaking my rule that if he comes in anytime before 6 he has to go back to his own bed) because I'm too tired to argue with him or deal with his dramatic pseudo meltdown
6:00 - FINALLY get Sasha back to sleep, convince D to go to sleep in our bed
6:30ish - I fall back asleep
8:20 - Wake up to D telling me that Sasha is waking up. He woke up to the monitor before we did. Nice.
The night before the princess was up from 2-3:30.
Last night she woke up at 12:15, about 10 minutes after I finally drifted off. She tried to pull this "mommy rock me to sleep in the middle of the night" business after she nursed and I refused. Swaddled her cute little tush up and put her in the crib. Popped the cork in and kept my hands on her for a few minutes, so she could feel my ever lovin' presence, until I felt her breathing fall into the slow rhythm of sleep and I left. It was 1am. She slept until about 8. Of course, since she is usually up at 2 or 4, I woke up at both of those times. Then D came in at 6:20 and crawled into bed with us.
How the hell am I going to have enough functioning brain cells to work in 2 weeks?
Yesterday I broke down and had to have coffee. I went to my beloved Caribou and got a half caf, skim latte with one Splenda. It was delicious. Sasha was ok, but not the best day.
This is how the night from Tuesday to Wednesday went. Lights out around 11:30 because I just can't seem to get to sleep any earlier and have a new book I'm reading so I stay up too late.
4:30 - Sasha wakes up
5:20am - Dylan comes in our room because he has to potty, crawls into bed with us (breaking my rule that if he comes in anytime before 6 he has to go back to his own bed) because I'm too tired to argue with him or deal with his dramatic pseudo meltdown
6:00 - FINALLY get Sasha back to sleep, convince D to go to sleep in our bed
6:30ish - I fall back asleep
8:20 - Wake up to D telling me that Sasha is waking up. He woke up to the monitor before we did. Nice.
The night before the princess was up from 2-3:30.
Last night she woke up at 12:15, about 10 minutes after I finally drifted off. She tried to pull this "mommy rock me to sleep in the middle of the night" business after she nursed and I refused. Swaddled her cute little tush up and put her in the crib. Popped the cork in and kept my hands on her for a few minutes, so she could feel my ever lovin' presence, until I felt her breathing fall into the slow rhythm of sleep and I left. It was 1am. She slept until about 8. Of course, since she is usually up at 2 or 4, I woke up at both of those times. Then D came in at 6:20 and crawled into bed with us.
How the hell am I going to have enough functioning brain cells to work in 2 weeks?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Rarely alone, frequently lonely
Lonely:
Pronunciation: 'lOn-lE
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): lone·li·er; -est1
a : being without company : LONE
b : cut off from others : SOLITARY
2 : not frequented by human beings : DESOLATE
3 : sad from being alone : LONESOME
4 : producing a feeling of bleakness or desolation
Motherhood is a lonely endeavor. Especially the first few months. Which is ironic, really. In the first few months of being a new mother (or an old mother to a new human) you are almost never without company. Almost never alone. Always in the company of the little person we are responsible for keeping alive. I find these first few months to be ridiculously lonely. But, I'm no stranger to loneliness.
I don't really remember a time when I didn't feel lonely. A time when I didn't feel like I was on the outside looking in. A time when I didn't feel like there was some sort of companionship I was missing.
I lead a full life. I have friends, a husband, children. We are frequently social, I have lunch with friends regularly. But the loneliness never seems to fully subside. It lurks around every corner like the monsters under the bed. The ones that come out when the lights are out and we're all alone. Only these monsters aren't mythical creatures, they are my own thoughts. The thoughts I share with no one because I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to admit, even to myself at times, that I am lonely. Because, I think, I shouldn't be anymore.
Yet, I know I'm not alone in my loneliness and that seems to make it not quite as lonely.
Pronunciation: 'lOn-lE
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): lone·li·er; -est1
a : being without company : LONE
b : cut off from others : SOLITARY
2 : not frequented by human beings : DESOLATE
3 : sad from being alone : LONESOME
4 : producing a feeling of bleakness or desolation
Motherhood is a lonely endeavor. Especially the first few months. Which is ironic, really. In the first few months of being a new mother (or an old mother to a new human) you are almost never without company. Almost never alone. Always in the company of the little person we are responsible for keeping alive. I find these first few months to be ridiculously lonely. But, I'm no stranger to loneliness.
I don't really remember a time when I didn't feel lonely. A time when I didn't feel like I was on the outside looking in. A time when I didn't feel like there was some sort of companionship I was missing.
I lead a full life. I have friends, a husband, children. We are frequently social, I have lunch with friends regularly. But the loneliness never seems to fully subside. It lurks around every corner like the monsters under the bed. The ones that come out when the lights are out and we're all alone. Only these monsters aren't mythical creatures, they are my own thoughts. The thoughts I share with no one because I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to admit, even to myself at times, that I am lonely. Because, I think, I shouldn't be anymore.
Yet, I know I'm not alone in my loneliness and that seems to make it not quite as lonely.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Loss
Last Friday night we had some very good friends over for dinner. They arrived and we offered them some beverages. B graciously accepted a beer right away and M declined some wine. I let it go. When we sat down to dinner and M still refused wine I had to ask if there was a reason. There was. She was 7 weeks pregnant, due 1 week before my birthday. We were thrilled for them. They are wonderful people and after 8 months of trying they most definitely deserved this happiness. We are confident they will make wonderful parents.
Friday I got a phone call from M letting me know she had miscarried Monday. She said they were both doing OK and that every day is getting a little easier. I feel awful for them. I can't imagine how it must feel to have to endure such a loss. How it must feel to be pregnant and then not be pregnant, without having a baby in my arms. I can't imagine the emptiness even after only knowing for a few days. I can't imagine how I would feel every year when my due date rolled around.
I just can't imagine.
Friday I got a phone call from M letting me know she had miscarried Monday. She said they were both doing OK and that every day is getting a little easier. I feel awful for them. I can't imagine how it must feel to have to endure such a loss. How it must feel to be pregnant and then not be pregnant, without having a baby in my arms. I can't imagine the emptiness even after only knowing for a few days. I can't imagine how I would feel every year when my due date rolled around.
I just can't imagine.
This is what heaven feels like...
Let me begin by saying I love my children. But are they ever really any sweeter than when they are sleeping?
Right now, child #1 is playing happily at my parents house and child #2 is actually SLEEPING. In. Her. Crib. Unbelievable! This is the second day in a row that Sasha is taking a nap in her crib. Of course, now that I actually have the cojones to type that sentence, she will probably wake up. But, right now I am typing this while there isn't a child in sight. No "mommy!" every other second. No crying, no nursing. The sweet sound of just my fingers banging away on the keyboard and the white noise from Sasha's room coming through the monitor.
I have been on maternity leave for 13.5 weeks now and this is the 3rd time my daughter has napped in her crib. I'm very happy right now.
Right now, child #1 is playing happily at my parents house and child #2 is actually SLEEPING. In. Her. Crib. Unbelievable! This is the second day in a row that Sasha is taking a nap in her crib. Of course, now that I actually have the cojones to type that sentence, she will probably wake up. But, right now I am typing this while there isn't a child in sight. No "mommy!" every other second. No crying, no nursing. The sweet sound of just my fingers banging away on the keyboard and the white noise from Sasha's room coming through the monitor.
I have been on maternity leave for 13.5 weeks now and this is the 3rd time my daughter has napped in her crib. I'm very happy right now.
Monday, August 13, 2007
No naps for us
Read the baby books and they tell you to sleep when the baby sleeps. Nap while the baby naps. Use nap time to take time for yourself. That's fantastic advice, but what do you do when the baby doesn't nap, or only naps while being cradled in your arms?
You do:
watch endless hours of bad daytime television because you don't have a book to read and can't get to the bookstore or library to get a new one
occasionally fall asleep while holding the baby
figure out how to both hold the baby and use a laptop at the same time
spend a lot of time sitting on your ass thinking about all the things you could be doing if only the baby would sleep in her crib
You don't:
run errands because the baby hates her car seat and the car
get ANYTHING done
exercise (although let's be honest, I probably wouldn't anyway)
paint the rooms in the house I wanted to paint while on maternity leave (I can paint while the baby sleeps!)
You do:
watch endless hours of bad daytime television because you don't have a book to read and can't get to the bookstore or library to get a new one
occasionally fall asleep while holding the baby
figure out how to both hold the baby and use a laptop at the same time
spend a lot of time sitting on your ass thinking about all the things you could be doing if only the baby would sleep in her crib
You don't:
run errands because the baby hates her car seat and the car
get ANYTHING done
exercise (although let's be honest, I probably wouldn't anyway)
paint the rooms in the house I wanted to paint while on maternity leave (I can paint while the baby sleeps!)
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
4 more weeks
We attended my company picnic tonight and the same question was asked of me over and over again - when are you coming back? The answer is 4 more weeks.
That means I have 4 more weeks of seeing every smile, every tear, every blink and every everything my darling little girl emits.
I'm so torn on how I feel about going back to work. I know I am a better parent and wife when I work. I'm more balanced when I work. I get to go out of mom and wife mode for a little bit and turn into a little bit of different person. But at the same time, I know I will likely miss the first steps with Sasha, just like I did with Dylan. It was heartbreaking when Dave called me one day after picking D up from daycare and told me he had finally taken a couple of steps. I know I might miss the first word.
In 4 weeks I will no longer be there to rock her to sleep for naps and will no longer be there when she wakes up. In 4 weeks I will no longer nurse her throughout the day and feel her skin against mine. I will feel the cold hard plastic of breast pump cones instead. I won't be able to watch those beautiful eyelashes while she eats and watch them flutter in that yummy place between sleep and awake. I will watch the level on the bottle to make sure I pump enough for her to have milk for the next day. I won't get the smiles throughout the day which she gives me when she locks eyes with me. The smiles only I get. She smiles at other people, but those smile are a little bigger and brighter for me. The promise of that smile and the smile of her darling brother will get me through my day.
In 4 weeks I will have to hear about her days rather than live them. I will have to learn about my daughter's new accomplishments from another person rather than experience them myself.
In 4 weeks, I will drop my baby girl off for the day and will do it through tears just as I sit and type this through tears.
That means I have 4 more weeks of seeing every smile, every tear, every blink and every everything my darling little girl emits.
I'm so torn on how I feel about going back to work. I know I am a better parent and wife when I work. I'm more balanced when I work. I get to go out of mom and wife mode for a little bit and turn into a little bit of different person. But at the same time, I know I will likely miss the first steps with Sasha, just like I did with Dylan. It was heartbreaking when Dave called me one day after picking D up from daycare and told me he had finally taken a couple of steps. I know I might miss the first word.
In 4 weeks I will no longer be there to rock her to sleep for naps and will no longer be there when she wakes up. In 4 weeks I will no longer nurse her throughout the day and feel her skin against mine. I will feel the cold hard plastic of breast pump cones instead. I won't be able to watch those beautiful eyelashes while she eats and watch them flutter in that yummy place between sleep and awake. I will watch the level on the bottle to make sure I pump enough for her to have milk for the next day. I won't get the smiles throughout the day which she gives me when she locks eyes with me. The smiles only I get. She smiles at other people, but those smile are a little bigger and brighter for me. The promise of that smile and the smile of her darling brother will get me through my day.
In 4 weeks I will have to hear about her days rather than live them. I will have to learn about my daughter's new accomplishments from another person rather than experience them myself.
In 4 weeks, I will drop my baby girl off for the day and will do it through tears just as I sit and type this through tears.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
2 month stats
She grows, oh how she grows.
My little girl is now weighing in at a whopping 12 pounds 12 ounces (she was 6 pounds 8.5 ounces when we left the hospital) which puts her at the 90-95% on the charts. She is also 24" long which puts her at the 97% on the charts. Developmentally she is right on track.
Boob juice, it does a baby good.
My little girl is now weighing in at a whopping 12 pounds 12 ounces (she was 6 pounds 8.5 ounces when we left the hospital) which puts her at the 90-95% on the charts. She is also 24" long which puts her at the 97% on the charts. Developmentally she is right on track.
Boob juice, it does a baby good.
The sick mommy
All the sleep deprivation of the last few months seem to have finally taken their toll and I am so totally and completely sick. Started on Monday and here I sit on Thursday still feeling like a hammer to the head would feel better than the sinus headache I am enduring.
Yesterday I made Dave take a sick day and today he pretty much played hookie. I've seen my daughter for feedings and have hardly seen my son at all. He misses me.
My big baby is almost 4.5 years old and I still think of him as my baby. He still has dimples on his hands rather than knuckles and still has yummy baby cheeks that I want to eat up. My little baby is developing chunk all over and also has yummy cheeks I want to eat up. I've had to keep my distance because I am sick.
I can't wait to eat those yummy cheeks again.
Yesterday I made Dave take a sick day and today he pretty much played hookie. I've seen my daughter for feedings and have hardly seen my son at all. He misses me.
My big baby is almost 4.5 years old and I still think of him as my baby. He still has dimples on his hands rather than knuckles and still has yummy baby cheeks that I want to eat up. My little baby is developing chunk all over and also has yummy cheeks I want to eat up. I've had to keep my distance because I am sick.
I can't wait to eat those yummy cheeks again.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Dreams
Dylan has finally started telling us about his dreams. The other night he dreamt he went sledding with Dave and fell and slipped on the ice. It's made us laugh and has also made us very happy we're creating dream worthy memories with him.
Dreams are a strange thing. They are the images we see while our eyes are closed. They are wishes for the future. They reveal our fears, our desires. They allow us to relive our past and maybe get a glimpse into the future. I have had only one dream about my baby during both of my pregnancies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Sasha I had a dream I had a baby girl and she looked just like me. Well, here she is and she does.
We can even be stalked in our dreams. For years I would have dreams about a specific ex-boyfriend finding me. About running into him randomly and having to deal with the one person I never, EVER, want to see again. I think those dreams have finally stopped. But you never know when they might be back.
I feel I am at a point where I have stopped having dreams for myself. All my dreams these days are for my children. For them to grow up and be happy, be healthy, have fulfilling lives. To be educated, to value what that education brings to their lives and to someday have families of their own and know the love and happiness having children brings. I dream my children will be close the way my brother and I are to each other. To know that no matter what, they have each other. Yes, my dreams are for my children.
I have also come to realize I need to start dreaming for myself again, too. I need to think about myself in terms of me. Clara. Not always mom or wife. Sometimes it's just me and that it's ok to just think about me. To dream for just me. To dream about the places I'd like to go. The places I haven't been because I chose to have children young. To dream about the adventures I would like to have. To dream of the week long spa vacation with girlfriends I swear I will take someday to rediscover who I am without having to take care of my husband or kids. To dream of the business I will start someday. To work for myself and make my own rules. To truly benefit from my own work and know that my success or failure is based on me and me alone. To dream of perfecting a cheesecake one day - the only thing I bake. To dream of having the time to take a cooking class here and there.
Every night, the dreams keep coming and I hope they never stop.
Dreams are a strange thing. They are the images we see while our eyes are closed. They are wishes for the future. They reveal our fears, our desires. They allow us to relive our past and maybe get a glimpse into the future. I have had only one dream about my baby during both of my pregnancies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Sasha I had a dream I had a baby girl and she looked just like me. Well, here she is and she does.
We can even be stalked in our dreams. For years I would have dreams about a specific ex-boyfriend finding me. About running into him randomly and having to deal with the one person I never, EVER, want to see again. I think those dreams have finally stopped. But you never know when they might be back.
I feel I am at a point where I have stopped having dreams for myself. All my dreams these days are for my children. For them to grow up and be happy, be healthy, have fulfilling lives. To be educated, to value what that education brings to their lives and to someday have families of their own and know the love and happiness having children brings. I dream my children will be close the way my brother and I are to each other. To know that no matter what, they have each other. Yes, my dreams are for my children.
I have also come to realize I need to start dreaming for myself again, too. I need to think about myself in terms of me. Clara. Not always mom or wife. Sometimes it's just me and that it's ok to just think about me. To dream for just me. To dream about the places I'd like to go. The places I haven't been because I chose to have children young. To dream about the adventures I would like to have. To dream of the week long spa vacation with girlfriends I swear I will take someday to rediscover who I am without having to take care of my husband or kids. To dream of the business I will start someday. To work for myself and make my own rules. To truly benefit from my own work and know that my success or failure is based on me and me alone. To dream of perfecting a cheesecake one day - the only thing I bake. To dream of having the time to take a cooking class here and there.
Every night, the dreams keep coming and I hope they never stop.
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