Bean’s legs are getting much sturdier, especially her thighs (which can’t be seen here). She’s been sleeping from 7 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. the past few days. Maybe this is the grand sleep consolidation which everyone talks about. Husband says Bean wakes up as though she’s surprised to have slept so long; she usually devours 7 ounces for her first meal. Lately she’s been eating almost every hour, packing it all in before bedtime. And that intake is staying on her now; she’s getting heavy!
My Las Madres play group had a Mother’s Night Out event — dinner at Pasta Pomodoro. Of the 31 members, seven of us attended, and we had a yummy dinner with good gab. The conversation focused on the usual at first — How old is your child? Does she sleep through the night? and so on. Soon enough, though, it moved on to trading stories about where we’re from, what we did for work before motherhood, favorite shows (Dr. Who, the new Battlestar Galactica), other good places to eat, ideas for other MNO events. The meal was leisurely, and I got home at 9:30.
Off to my bed!
moar funny pictures
Feeling: inexplicably irritable, edgy, tearful.
Coping by: drinking a cup of coffee (don’t nag me about caffeine), eating Santa Barbara biscotti (not in moderation), and ignoring my child’s aria as she swings unwillingly in her swing long enough for me to have a little break.
She’s tired. I’m tired. I need another biscotti.
I haven’t disappeared. I’ve not had access to a computer for several days. The upgrade to the new OS (Leopard) has not gone smoothly. Another reason I’m not around much: I have a teething baby. Whee!
I should go to bed so I can be somewhat fresh for the poor little baby tomorrow.
Sometimes the mind, for reasons we don’t necessarily understand, just decides to go to the store for a quart of milk.
–Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider
Chad, whom I’ve known via blogging since 2002, has announced the birth of his son, August.
Please take a moment to wish them hearty congratulations. Even if you don’t know him, chiming in with joy can only add to happiness all around.
My day isn’t over yet. Here’s how it’s been so far.
6:00 – get up; Bean was just fed at 5:00 by Husband and wouldn’t fall asleep again, so got her from the crib and played with her
6:45 – Bean naps in her swing, and I check email/blogs
7:30 – Bean wakes; change her; play with her
7:50 – feed her; change her again (she’s productive); play with/read to her
8:30 – rock Bean
8:45 – put her in her crib; she fusses until 9:10 then sleeps until 9:50; during that time I make two loaves of whole wheat baguettes using this recipe; take out recycling; fold laundry; put away laundry; wipe up counters and dining table; load dishwasher; eat a banana and drink milk; gather stuff for Goodwill
9:50 – Bean wakes (darn! only 40 minutes of sleep) and I leave her alone; she protest fusses until 9:55 and then falls asleep again
10:00 – put bread in oven; Bean is crying again
10:05 – get Bean, change a poopy diaper; play with her
10:30 – get bread out of oven; feed Bean, then change her
11:00 – take Bean on an outing to drop off a box at Goodwill and purchase coffee filters at Long’s Drugstore; eat a quick lunch at home
12:00 – Bean dozes in swing and I have a catnap
12:30 – play with Bean
1:00 – feed Bean, change her; make scones
2:00 – take a 60 minute walk; Bean sleeps 35 minutes in the stroller
3:15 – feed Bean, change her; play with her
4:00 – she is whiney and tired; put her in the swing; she fusses and then falls asleep
5:15 – she’s still asleep and I uploaded more photos on Flickr
I’m ready for her father to come home, though that won’t happen until 6:30 at the earliest. Fortunately, I made a ham and bean soup a couple days ago, and that plus the bread will be dinner tonight. Also today, I showed Bean two 30-second videos I made of her, and she was riveted. The one of her laughing especially got a smile and a giggle out of her.
How has your day been?
What I’ve done today:
What I’m doing now:
What I’ll do tomorrow:
Happy new year to all!
From the first post I authored each month this year.
January: It’s a new year and we’re off running, trying to find a place to live.
February: The movers from Hansen-Smylie arrived at 8:30 a.m. on Monday the 29th, and they finished unloading the truck at 5:00 p.m.
March: I’m pretty darn happy these days.
April: I’m not a huge fan of dichotomous thinking or generalizations, but this quote suits me at the moment; I choose the miracle.
May: Before I deal with the main topic, I’ll share what I saw on the side of a Goodwill truck: Giving people a chance to hate Monday mornings.
June: Husband and I attended the standard appointment with the OB yesterday.
July: This post is purely about ego.
August: Today was the first of my weekly OB visits.
September: I have been richly nurtured.
October: I’m doing better but am still challenged.
November: Yes, I know I said I wouldn’t post photos of my daughter on the blog.
December: For Christmahanakwanzayule, I want: to be freed of fear; to be freed of limitation; to be freed of doubt; to be freed of denial; to be freed of loneliness; to be freed of anger; to be freed of pain; to be freed of suffering; in other words, not to be bound by my ego anymore.
This photo is of Bean’s reflection in her tummy time toy mirror. Notice that she isn’t on her tummy. Still not a preferred position!
Fran wrote about trying to shift her attitude about the upcoming holiday season toward one of more cheer and simplicity.
I am also experiencing a shift. Usually I decorate a lot, and you would think with a child I would want to do so even more. However, the idea this year infuses me with anxiety. Our living room is very small, connected to the dining area and kitchen, and quite crowded with the necessary furniture plus the baby swing and toys. It’s the play space for the baby. I’ve always had a tree (we have an artificial one due to allergies and Husband’s role is to assemble it every year). In the years I lived in spaces too small for a big tree, I erected a teeny tree (12 inches) my mother gave me years ago and that is adorned with mini ornaments. Except that this year, we have no horizontal surface for even that little tree. No mantle, no wall space for a shelf.
I could put up other decorations, smaller ones perhaps, or even just the door wreathe. Yet the idea of rummaging through the crawl space (laughingly called the attic) to drag out the boxes daunts me. There isn’t just one box which contains the few decorations I might want to put up. I’d need to pull out several to pick and choose.
Yet the idea of not decorating for Christmas bothers me. I’m not sad. It’s more of the thought of “I’m failing myself” or “I need to be a good mother” that overshadows the decision. Yet what good is a decoration if it’s hung up out of negativity? With my mother-in-law coming soon, there will be an extra adult too. And then the presents, oh, the presents! They will arrive and need space. So I don’t know what to do.
Plus, we’re exhausted and despair just a bit because Pixie doesn’t sleep well yet. We had a few good nights, and then last night the wee hours were not so good. Husband woke me at 5 a.m. saying she’d been screaming and crying since about 3 a.m. She’s exhausted, but even now she’s awake (though quiet) in her swing.
My mother-in-law arrives Monday evening.
As for decorating (which I usually do the day after Thanksgiving), I’ll wait and see. Maybe a solution will inspire me. Or perhaps I’ll settle with myself the idea that I can choose differently this year. Even if I don’t decorate, I can find joy in this Yule season by enjoying other people’s festive lights and decor.
Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.
–John le Carre
I posted this for Laurel.
My mother-in-law is coming back to assist. She was willing to come as soon as tomorrow. Despite the fact she also plans to fly to Kansas for Thanksgiving to see her other son from November 20-28, she was willing to come here first and then return to us after that trip. Husband and I decided we could muddle through until the 26th, and she’ll move her departure from Kansas up a couple of days. She’ll be coming for an indefinite stay. Who knows? Since she’d planned to come for ten days at Christmastime, she may just end up staying the whole month.
Soon the weekend will be here. I just need to cope with today, tomorrow and Friday. Next week Husband plans (we hope) to take Monday and Wednesday off, and I can see if a friend can spell me on Tuesday. Then he’ll be off the remainder of next week for the holiday, and before we know it, the 26th will arrive.
I feel encouraged and relieved, and much less depressed and anxious.
I know I’ve got to come to grips with my role as a mother. I’m the adult, after all. But this is a relationship unlike any other; I’m a little long in the tooth and had years to become comfortable with having my way and only taking care of myself. So having some help through this growth spurt is much appreciated.
One of the things I’ll need to embrace is that I’ve got the child I’ve got, and she’s so young it’s too soon to draw conclusions. Maybe she’s a fiery personality and I’ll have my hands very full the rest of my life. Or maybe it’s just that she’s not been on this earth even 70 days yet, and her nervous system is immature, and/or she may naturally have ultra-acute senses, and that she’ll grow into a more settled state (like everyone keeps promising). This little person may simply need to be kept company while she thrashes her way through life (if indeed that’s how she needs to do it), and if I can step back from fear of “doing it wrong” and release resistance to not having my way, maybe I can see more clearly how to provide that. Rather than feel vexed that I can’t soothe her (so as to have a calm life and support my wish to feel competent), I can smile at her with the wisdom of having been alive much longer and feel less desperately helpless. She needs room to be herself and a mother who can tell the difference between mother and daughter.
A venerable friend died this morning. My brother and sister-in-law (Aunt LP)’s cat, Theo, died at home of renal failure and old age. He was 14. I was the first person they called in 1993 when they adopted him in kittenhood. He was a damn smart cat, their genius kitty; as my brother said, Theo “knew how the outside was connected to the inside (though he’d never been), how to open doors and cabinets, and how to make us smile.” I’m so sad he’s gone. He was a wonderful furry family member. If you have animal companions at home, give them a little extra love today.
This is a photo of an old photo of Theo I snapped when I first moved to Austin in 1994.
Are we really sure the purring is coming from the kitty and not from our very own hearts?
–Emme Woodhull-Bäche, translated
[thanks to Leah for sharing the quotation]
Aunt LP has departed. I’m happy that she was here. She cooked us big batches of chicken stew, tomato sauce, and black beans to stock our freezer. She vacuumed. She gave me freedom to nap, shower, and run errands. And she played with Bean, changed her, rocked her to sleep, and fed her. She got to know the little bean. We got to catch up on our lives. I’m sad that she’s gone. I’m sad also that one of her furry kids is very ill; the last day of her visit we worried about him.
I’ve spent the afternoon holding Bean while she sleeps until Husband finished errands (including getting a flu shot, which means we are all immunized now). He’s on duty now, so I’m madly laundering, scrubbing, and organizing, with a trip to the grocery store in the offing.