i was watching a video of M's first few days, one that we took at the hospital. she's practically a stranger. how can i have forgotten so much already (but not the birth part, thankyouverymuch)?
i try to remember what we've already gone through, but it's like an eraser is growing in my brain. kind of terrifying. i wonder if i forgot just as much of life before, but now care a bit more and am just frustrated? whatever. not the point.
the things i do remember (so far):
dancing hands.
i think she has my hands. long fingers. ever since week 1, she has put her arm in the air and twisted her hands like little ballerinas on the end of her wrists. when she's intentionally trying to touch or grasp something, she might as well be wearing boxing gloves, but the times when she's not thinking are the times where her hands dance.
peas and toes.
her little toes are the size of sweet peas and just as delicious. she seems to always present her feet at the perfect place for kisses. i love baby feet.
noises.
she still doesn't really belly laugh. her laugh is so funny. like she's pushing it out but it's heavy. but she does a great "most annoying sound in the world." and i know it's not a word, but she does say "meh, meh, meh." which is "mama" in my ears.
toys
she likes them all. for 8.5 seconds, then she wants anything that isn't a toy. iPhone, pen, coffee cup, computer, remote control, vacuum cleaner, cat, stroller wheel, electric cords. now that she's crawling, it's an adventure.
firsts.
this is good. i remember first meal, first sit up, first crawl, first noises, first teeth, first sleep through the night, first airplane ride, first time she bit me on the nip, first day with the babysitter, first fall, first self-feeding face-stuffing. since there are so many firsts, it's good that something is staying in my brain.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
melancholy hope
first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage (or similar).what happens after the baby carriage?
the baby starts to grow up. fast. more quickly than it seems possible for time to pass.
this having of this baby has created for me a reflection of my own small life.
every time she has a first, for some reason, i feel a last. it's a grasping sort of finality: don't grow another inch, or i'm one day closer to a time where i won't be here for you. with you.
i can't imagine her not needing me, and when i see her grow out of one stage and into another it's a sad celebration. sad like a wedding.
being a parent is the absorption of another's well-being into your core. it's a crushing responsibility and a promise of endless anxiety. life is hard. life is painful. life is scary. and i've just given that gift of a life to someone else who can't protect themselves from anything - yet.
so all i want to do is protect her. all the time. from everything from boredom to abduction to raindrops. all i want to do is teach her. all the time. to be cautious but curious. brave but not fearless. soon she'll need to learn even more difficult lessons. i hope i am a good teacher.
i have always felt a underlying sense of the futility of existing, but it was somewhat abstract. there's plenty of time. i'm young. who cares. carpe diem.
she is the wake up call to my own unnerving outlook and the finite part. the part i like to ignore. shit.
i am learning to live with it again, but differently. just like i live with the constant ringing in my left ear. more and more i will work toward less 'who cares' and more 'make every moment matter.' this takes discipline, but if it isn't difficult, it probably isn't worth doing anyway.
i'm not going to apologize for how i feel about this. or that it is depressing. or for writing it down.
i didn't expect this.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
she is a part of her
there were nights when M was still waking up to nurse every three or four hours and i would have her in my arms, her baby head resting on my arm - back to sleep almost as quickly as she woke up. as much as i love sleep, i did love our alone nights.
looking down at her fine, just-growing-in hair reminded me of Grandma Hunt's short crop haircut.
at the end of her life, with Alzheimer's having taken the actual her from us years prior, Grandma had same little boy haircut, mostly because it was the easiest way to keep it since she couldn't take care of it. but she also had this little boy haircut because she was an innocent child.
sometimes M reminds me of Grandma when she turns her head a certain way or makes a specific little gesture.
i didn't expect this.
looking down at her fine, just-growing-in hair reminded me of Grandma Hunt's short crop haircut.
at the end of her life, with Alzheimer's having taken the actual her from us years prior, Grandma had same little boy haircut, mostly because it was the easiest way to keep it since she couldn't take care of it. but she also had this little boy haircut because she was an innocent child.
sometimes M reminds me of Grandma when she turns her head a certain way or makes a specific little gesture.
i didn't expect this.
Friday, January 25, 2013
four out of five moms choose cabernet
first of all, someone said to me, "you are just writing about your kid now in your blog."
no shit.
it's not that i'm opposed to writing on other topics, but what the hell do you think i've been doing for the past four months (note: my baby is four months old). hmm?
i digress.
having had four months under my belt as a "mom" (i still don't believe that word applies to me, but apparently it does), i have come to love and loathe a certain few baby-related consumer goods, and i will take a moment to share for the benefit of those people buying shower gifts or having spawn of their own.
The Boppy
i've said my piece about this total waste of 90% polyester / 10% cotton.
verdict: two saggy boobs down.
Solution: go with the competition - the pillow i refuse to name again because it still chafes me to think that i purchased such a shitily branded product. puns. ugh.
Baby socks (generic)
you're in the nursery getting Bucket dressed and you put the average baby socks on those adorable teeny feet and look away for one split second and one of the socks is on the kitchen floor and the other is in the baby's mouth. damn socks disappear faster than daddy when he hears shizzle fill the dizzle. since they don't make tiny old-man shirt garters for babies, most socks are pointless. it makes sense now why ladies with kankles seem to have a problem keeping their socks up.
verdict: two slouchy socks down.
Solution: Robeez Kick-Proof Socks
they aren't 100% but do perform at a 75% effective rate versus the competition. Warm toes, delicious taste says Bucket.
Solution 2: Pants with feet
Duh. Why does a baby need socks to begin with? Pants with feet, tights, or maybe even L'eggs control top work way better.
Terry cloth
babies eat between 20 and 24 ounces of liquid each day. they gain one ounce a day. so, i figure that 19 to 23 ounces of liquid something is coming out of your baby each day (pick your poison). This is why all things "baby" should be made of terry cloth, read: a towel. there's no way one of those ruffly tutu things is going to do anything to help a four-wipey eruption come go time. terry cloth outfits sop up barf and absorb a blow out. terry cloth wipes take care of what escapes terry cloth bibs, and my terry cloth robe protects me like a plastic poncho in a Yucatan hurricane.
verdict: it's the material of choice, until Shamwow starts making apparel.
Shirts
it may sound odd, but i fucking hate shirts. how does the little bag of soup plan to keep her fucking shirt tucked in? hm? she can't even sit upright. in fact, she spends a lot of time squirming from a seated position surrounded by cushions and pillows into a supine posture covered by cushions and pillows. when she wears a shirt - let's be clear, a onesie is not a shirt. it is a bodysuit - the shirt ends up rolled up under her armpits like she's some sort of old Chinese man trying to cool off in July. it's the middle of winter and her potbelly is hanging out because she can't keep her shirt down, poor uncomfortable thing.
verdict: if it doesn't snap at the crotch, she's better off naked.
Bumpers on the crib
having bumpers, the quilted little pads lining the inside of the crib, has become controversial in the past few years because of an increased risk of suffocation. okay. valid. another reason to avoid bumpers on the crib is because you can't see the baby through the jail bars. this might not be a big deal to you, but i hate hearing these gurgling and cooing noises and not being able to see what is causing them. over Thanksgiving when M was sleeping in a frilly white traditional bassinet and simultaneously had some nasal congestion and was snurgling and snoring all night, i was all Rosemary's Baby about looking in there. sometimes the noises are pure after-midnight Gremlin, and i'm often up after midnight.
verdict: avoid all sorts of horror and ditch the bumpers.
The B.O.B.
This Cadillac of baby strollers is one of the few things that I purchased new, and it wasn't cheap. with full suspension, a weather-resistant technical fabric, agile steering, a ridiculous turn radius, and two cupholders, i am often inspired to take Bucket for a jog. sadly, inspiration waned when daddy realized that beers fit in the cup holders, too. we do a lot of walking.
verdict: i'm considering a Lojack.
Changing table
a piece of furniture designed solely for changing a diaper seems like a waste of money, but then I got to thinking...you just spent nine months gaining a pound a week, then pushed THAT through THERE to get it HERE, and then myriad physical recovery traumas ensue (including but not limited to lower back pain, franken-vag, neck soreness, and general exhaustion), and now someone says, "it's easier just to change her on the floor." Fuck you. I am not crawling around on my knees on the floor, bent over, hoping she doesn't stick her foot and/or hand in it (again) and then start flailing with wild glee during diaper-time (again) spreading shit everywhere. besides, where do you keep all of the diapers and wipes? in piles all over the house? that will not stand.
verdict: unless you have a large budget for Resolve and some serious stain-resistant carpet, then spend the $20 on a consignment changing table.
Cloth diapers
i am not sure where this quirk developed, but dan and i have a pseudo-obsession with reducing our waste stream. we recycle, compost, reuse, and otherwise repurpose things that most people wouldn't bother with. i believe that most of it stems from our frugality rather than our tree-huggery, but it is likely a little of both. it's a challenge to see how long it takes for us to fill the trash can before we make a trip to the transfer station (avg. 21 days. yeah, that's right. we don't have curbside, mo'fo's, we just don't have enough trash. go us! uh, whatever). anyway, we got about four cases of disposable diapers for Bucket when she was percolating, so we thought we'd put them to good use (and the cloth ones were huge on her as a newbie). in early December, dan was away for work and i decided to make a trash run (the second run inside of eight days. horror. it was totally busting up my average.). i literally had to power clean the black plastic bag into the back of the car otherwise i was going to throw out my back from the weight of the diapers in there. it was then, as the plastic tore and cat litter, Kleenex, and Q-tips littered my trunk, i knew we wanted to make a change.
verdict: mixed. the added laundry demand pales in comparison to the $0.27/per pee disposable diaper trash fiesta we were having, but it's not for everyone.
Other products I love
The Tummy Tub - Yes it's a $50 bucket. I got mine second-hand and I love it, and so does M. Fits in the kitchen sink, no crying, little chance of drowning, and it's a bucket full of naked baby. Adorable.
AVENT boob cups - The official name is something else, but essentially it's a cup that fits over the boob so you don't leak all over the place when baby is on one side and the milk starts spraying out the other side (Oh, right, that crazy leaking is supposed to stop after 12 weeks. Well, it hasn't. So, yay boob cups!).
Nursing camis - I have four of these and haven't worn any other shirt besides these, with various cardigans, for four full months. My wardrobe is stale, my convenience factor is high, and I simply look like a mom-jeans-mom without the mom-jeans. I have lost all MILF aspirations during this year of boob-to-mouth tethering. I will someday recover. Right? Right?
no shit.
it's not that i'm opposed to writing on other topics, but what the hell do you think i've been doing for the past four months (note: my baby is four months old). hmm?
i digress.
having had four months under my belt as a "mom" (i still don't believe that word applies to me, but apparently it does), i have come to love and loathe a certain few baby-related consumer goods, and i will take a moment to share for the benefit of those people buying shower gifts or having spawn of their own.
The Boppy
i've said my piece about this total waste of 90% polyester / 10% cotton.
verdict: two saggy boobs down.
Solution: go with the competition - the pillow i refuse to name again because it still chafes me to think that i purchased such a shitily branded product. puns. ugh.
Baby socks (generic)
you're in the nursery getting Bucket dressed and you put the average baby socks on those adorable teeny feet and look away for one split second and one of the socks is on the kitchen floor and the other is in the baby's mouth. damn socks disappear faster than daddy when he hears shizzle fill the dizzle. since they don't make tiny old-man shirt garters for babies, most socks are pointless. it makes sense now why ladies with kankles seem to have a problem keeping their socks up.
verdict: two slouchy socks down.
Solution: Robeez Kick-Proof Socks
they aren't 100% but do perform at a 75% effective rate versus the competition. Warm toes, delicious taste says Bucket.
Solution 2: Pants with feet
Duh. Why does a baby need socks to begin with? Pants with feet, tights, or maybe even L'eggs control top work way better.
Terry cloth
babies eat between 20 and 24 ounces of liquid each day. they gain one ounce a day. so, i figure that 19 to 23 ounces of liquid something is coming out of your baby each day (pick your poison). This is why all things "baby" should be made of terry cloth, read: a towel. there's no way one of those ruffly tutu things is going to do anything to help a four-wipey eruption come go time. terry cloth outfits sop up barf and absorb a blow out. terry cloth wipes take care of what escapes terry cloth bibs, and my terry cloth robe protects me like a plastic poncho in a Yucatan hurricane.
verdict: it's the material of choice, until Shamwow starts making apparel.
Shirts
it may sound odd, but i fucking hate shirts. how does the little bag of soup plan to keep her fucking shirt tucked in? hm? she can't even sit upright. in fact, she spends a lot of time squirming from a seated position surrounded by cushions and pillows into a supine posture covered by cushions and pillows. when she wears a shirt - let's be clear, a onesie is not a shirt. it is a bodysuit - the shirt ends up rolled up under her armpits like she's some sort of old Chinese man trying to cool off in July. it's the middle of winter and her potbelly is hanging out because she can't keep her shirt down, poor uncomfortable thing.
verdict: if it doesn't snap at the crotch, she's better off naked.
Bumpers on the crib
having bumpers, the quilted little pads lining the inside of the crib, has become controversial in the past few years because of an increased risk of suffocation. okay. valid. another reason to avoid bumpers on the crib is because you can't see the baby through the jail bars. this might not be a big deal to you, but i hate hearing these gurgling and cooing noises and not being able to see what is causing them. over Thanksgiving when M was sleeping in a frilly white traditional bassinet and simultaneously had some nasal congestion and was snurgling and snoring all night, i was all Rosemary's Baby about looking in there. sometimes the noises are pure after-midnight Gremlin, and i'm often up after midnight.
verdict: avoid all sorts of horror and ditch the bumpers.
The B.O.B.
This Cadillac of baby strollers is one of the few things that I purchased new, and it wasn't cheap. with full suspension, a weather-resistant technical fabric, agile steering, a ridiculous turn radius, and two cupholders, i am often inspired to take Bucket for a jog. sadly, inspiration waned when daddy realized that beers fit in the cup holders, too. we do a lot of walking.
verdict: i'm considering a Lojack.
Changing table
a piece of furniture designed solely for changing a diaper seems like a waste of money, but then I got to thinking...you just spent nine months gaining a pound a week, then pushed THAT through THERE to get it HERE, and then myriad physical recovery traumas ensue (including but not limited to lower back pain, franken-vag, neck soreness, and general exhaustion), and now someone says, "it's easier just to change her on the floor." Fuck you. I am not crawling around on my knees on the floor, bent over, hoping she doesn't stick her foot and/or hand in it (again) and then start flailing with wild glee during diaper-time (again) spreading shit everywhere. besides, where do you keep all of the diapers and wipes? in piles all over the house? that will not stand.
verdict: unless you have a large budget for Resolve and some serious stain-resistant carpet, then spend the $20 on a consignment changing table.
Cloth diapers
i am not sure where this quirk developed, but dan and i have a pseudo-obsession with reducing our waste stream. we recycle, compost, reuse, and otherwise repurpose things that most people wouldn't bother with. i believe that most of it stems from our frugality rather than our tree-huggery, but it is likely a little of both. it's a challenge to see how long it takes for us to fill the trash can before we make a trip to the transfer station (avg. 21 days. yeah, that's right. we don't have curbside, mo'fo's, we just don't have enough trash. go us! uh, whatever). anyway, we got about four cases of disposable diapers for Bucket when she was percolating, so we thought we'd put them to good use (and the cloth ones were huge on her as a newbie). in early December, dan was away for work and i decided to make a trash run (the second run inside of eight days. horror. it was totally busting up my average.). i literally had to power clean the black plastic bag into the back of the car otherwise i was going to throw out my back from the weight of the diapers in there. it was then, as the plastic tore and cat litter, Kleenex, and Q-tips littered my trunk, i knew we wanted to make a change.
verdict: mixed. the added laundry demand pales in comparison to the $0.27/per pee disposable diaper trash fiesta we were having, but it's not for everyone.
Other products I love
The Tummy Tub - Yes it's a $50 bucket. I got mine second-hand and I love it, and so does M. Fits in the kitchen sink, no crying, little chance of drowning, and it's a bucket full of naked baby. Adorable.
AVENT boob cups - The official name is something else, but essentially it's a cup that fits over the boob so you don't leak all over the place when baby is on one side and the milk starts spraying out the other side (Oh, right, that crazy leaking is supposed to stop after 12 weeks. Well, it hasn't. So, yay boob cups!).
Nursing camis - I have four of these and haven't worn any other shirt besides these, with various cardigans, for four full months. My wardrobe is stale, my convenience factor is high, and I simply look like a mom-jeans-mom without the mom-jeans. I have lost all MILF aspirations during this year of boob-to-mouth tethering. I will someday recover. Right? Right?
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