Mother's Day

I woke up at 6:15 this morning to the sound of the monitor. It wasn't a full-fledged cry, and it wasn't one of the whimpers that mean that she's not fully awake yet; it was somewhere in between. It gave me enough time to run to the bathroom and get her bottle warmed before I got her.

When I got in the room, she was standing up in her crib, supported by one hand on the toy piano we have suspended from the footboard. She was, as always, happy to see me. And despite my lack of sleep -- she had awoken, briefly, at midnight, and her dad's alarm went off at 3 am -- I was beyond happy to see her.

Diaper, bottle, playtime on the floor, breakfast, another diaper, more playtime, another bottle, snuggles, and a nap: a morning just like every other weekend morning.

This was my mother's day; my first one as a mom. It was also the first one in a very long time that hasn't been overwhelmingly tinged with sadness and loss. I still miss my mother terribly, but I have so much more now than I ever did before. I am so very lucky.

Practicing her pouty face.

At Eight Months

My daughter is eight months old today.

Flower Girl.

She gives sloppy open mouth kisses when she feels like it, and has been known to applaud the weather forecast. She giggles when you do something unexpected, like blow raspberries on her belly. She pinches me and pulls my hair, a lot, usually when I am feeding her. 

She holds on to me so tightly when I pick her up when she's crying in the middle of the night, and first thing in the morning too. She pushes me away when she wants to play with her toys. She likes the toys with the flashing lights, or the ones that make noise or play music, more so when someone close by is sleeping.

She likes to roll over mid-diaper change and wave her little butt in the air. I know I shouldn't laugh, but I do anyway. She calls me "Da Da," even though I keep telling her that my name is "Mama." I know that, eventually, she'll get it right.

She can crawl or roll from one end of the house to the other in seconds. She likes to climb on me, and now she uses my limbs, or whatever else she can find, to pull herself up to standing.  

She is a force of nature, this baby. She is exhausting and exhilarating. And I have never loved anything or anyone as fiercely.

Wittlebee

This week, we received our first Wittlebee box: a really cute three piece purple set, grey sweatpants, a threadless t-shirt, and an orange hooded sweatshirt.

We can't wait to see what they send next month!

If you are interested in having cute kid's clothes sent to you without having to shop or even think about it, you should check it out. And if you use my link, you save $10.

Six Months

This is a little late, since she'll be seven months on Tuesday.  But let's just say that so far, six months is the best.

Hello, Kitty.

Dear Leo's Mom

I saw you crying when you dropped Leo off at daycare for the first time today. I wanted to hug you, to tell you that it's okay, that it gets better. But the truth is that I don't know if it does. We just learn to hide it better so that we can get done what needs to get done, and so that our babies don't know that we're really a wreck inside.

It's not like the daycare isn't a good place. It is. They've been taking excellent care of my daughter for the past two months. She is happy and well-cared for, and really, what more could I ask? Still, if I didn't have to work, I'd be staying at home with her, soaking up all the cuddles and delighting in watching her figure out this crazy, extraordinary world. But that's not currently in the budget.

You are lucky, in some respects: Leo is over 4 months old and today is the first day that you dropped him off. I had to go back to work when my baby was just 12 weeks old, still a newborn. And, like you, I cried.

I cried after every babysitter interview. When we finally found someone, and I left her the first time, just for two hours as a transition, I cried the entire time. Then, when I went back to work full-time, I cried in the car for a week. Some days, I cried in my office, and in the evening after I put her to sleep. And then, three weeks later, when she started at the daycare? I went through the whole process all over again.

I cried because I felt like such a bad mommy. But now I know, I am not a bad mommy: I am doing what I need to do to take care of my family to the best of my ability. Bad mommies are the ones that don't make sacrifices to take care of their families; mommies that always put their own wants and desires first.

You are not a bad mommy.

It gets easier. I promise.

"Sleeps like a baby." Yeah, right.

I left work early on Friday to take the baby to the pediatrician for her four-month well-baby visit.  She got shots, and we both seem to be handling it better now. She only screamed for a minute before falling asleep, and this time, I only got a little teary-eyed.  Then we came home and she had her first rice cereal.

Of course, she was fussy and sick all weekend. On Saturday, she barfed so much that I think we set a record in the number of outfit changes in a single day -- hers AND mine. Sometimes it seems like she holds it in until I'm the one holding her, and then she lets go.  She almost always smiles after she barfs on me, particularly if I've just showered. 

She loves to pull my hair.  I got a haircut yesterday, and when she saw me, she cried. It was like I threw out her favorite toy.

This week, she decided that she hates sleeping in her crib. She waits for me to fall asleep and then cries, inconsolably, until I take her into bed with me, which means that I'm sleeping in the guest bed about 75% of the time, so L can sleep. Then she will only sleep ON me.  Of course, on L's days off, when he goes in to console her, she seems to go right back to sleep. 

Sleeping like a baby. When it suits her.

She is SO good at daycare, all smiles and sunshine. The teachers love her to pieces: we walk in, and they all can't wait to snuggle with my baby. But they think that I'm a disaster. Today, when I took her in -- late, because she woke up at 5:30 and then fell asleep when I was trying to get us out the door --  all of the teachers were super concerned because she has a big cut on her cheek. Of course, they weren't around during the hysterical crying fit where she clawed her face.  

The worst was Friday, when they called me to ask me whether it was okay to wake her up, because she slept for over 2 hours.  Of course she sleeps there -- BECAUSE SHE WON'T SLEEP AT NIGHT, IN HER CRIB.

Three Months

The first three months went by in a whirlwind.

One minute it was my due date, and it seemed like I had been pregnant forever, not just 40 weeks.  There I was, planning my induction for the next week, and heading into the office because I would go stir-crazy at home, waiting ... and seemingly out of nowhere, my water broke, and I was headed to the hospital to have the baby.  Then, the long, long, LONG unproductive labor, followed by the c-section, and then -- the best part -- getting to meet our new little person for the very first time.

Two days.

Since then, it seems like time has sped up.

One Month.

Every millisecond seems to go by more quickly than the previous one.

Two Months.

My once-teeny-tiny little newborn is now a sweet, wonderful, three month old girl.  She holds her head up by herself; she plays with toys; she giggles, squeals and coos in an attempt to communicate. Sometimes I am scared to blink, for fear that I will miss the next great achievement.

Three Months.