I inherited a little bit of Crystal Palace Musique. Not enough to make a “summer shawl,” so I made a lightweight blanket for Bean to use in the summer when it’s chilly around the edges.
3 balls of Crystal Palace Musique, 45% acrylic, 40% wool, 15% cotton; 65 yds/50 gram skein, size 19 needles.
Bean can:
Bean has not met a stranger yet. She genuinely enjoys people and readily smiles at and responds when others say hello and talk to her. She’ll sometimes even have “conversations” with them. However, Bean is definitely beginning to experience separation anxiety. If I begin to walk away from her, she cries. She often prefers me to Husband, especially at the end of the day when she is tired. I think object permanence has been established; it’s clear that she recognizes the sound of my footsteps and will coo, whine, or cry when hearing them depending on her mood.
Bean now naps in her crib. She was taking only 30-minute naps three times a day until recently. Since she’s often still tired after only 30 minutes, I was hoping for improvement there. Monday a mother made a suggestion that seems to have worked the past couple days. After she’s been asleep 10-15 minutes, I place a small, buckwheat-filled sack (the kind you heat in the microwave to use as a heating pad, but I don’t heat it) on her back. (She now rolls onto her tummy to sleep.) Tuesday her first nap was 70 minutes and the second was an hour. Wednesday the morning was 40 minutes and the afternoon was 1 hour and 20 minutes. There is a lot less eye-rubbing, yawning, and whining as a result. And we’ve made progress in that I’m no longer her bed! Before a nap I read her a couple of books, and then we say “goodnight” to Mirror Baby and the Mama Moon drawing. Then I rock her and sing four lullabies — the exact same ones in the exact same order — for five minutes. Then I kiss her, tell her I love her and that we’ll play after her nap. She will fuss, sometimes for up to twenty minutes, but usually she relents and allows sleep to come.
Bean’s been drooling to beat the band and chewing avidly on everything, and when I can glimpse inside her mouth, I think her gums are puffy where her two front teeth will appear. She eats heartily and recently has added squash, spinach, and potatoes to her menu, as well as peaches, apricots, and plums. When she drinks her bottle, Bean likes to play with my hair. After the morning bottle, she’ll nuzzle her head into my neck and cuddle.
We go out at least once every day to interact with people (run errands, play date, music class), and I try to get to the park daily too. Bean enjoys the swing so much and will stay in there up to half an hour if I’m willing to push that long. The play group I’m in has coordinated smaller groups of women called Sit-n-Plays. Up to six women who have discovered an affinity for each other and whose children are close in age meet once a week in each other’s homes to develop closer friendships. Eventually when the kids are old enough, they’ll actually play together. Right now they all sit around playing with toys and babbling and occasionally trying to touch or taste each other.
Life is luscious. Happy 8th month birthday, my love.
Patry Francis, who is recovering from cancer, encountered “perfect joy.” Read all about it and then ponder the question she poses at the end.
The only disagreement I have is with the idea of “having it.” I think this may not be possible. Life is ever-changing, and we are inconsistent. I think the real accomplishment is in recognizing when we encounter happiness and savoring it, and likewise when we recognize we are gripping negativity and letting go as soon as we know this. This happens daily for me. I dare say that becoming a mother has awakened me to my habits of negativity, and now I practice with more awareness. Any time I have a negative thought, a judgment — any time I feel tempted to dwell in and spew this — I look at my child and realize I have a choice. Actually, I not only have a choice — I have a responsibility to let go of the negative in order to become receptive to joy.
I may update this post later with my answer to Patry’s question.
I originally knit a baby hat and an adult hat. Decided to see if they’d felt and firm up well, even though it wasn’t bulky yarn. It was good ol’ Cascade 220 on size 8 needles. I used starch to help firm them up a bit. They are now felted bowls! These will be donated to a non-profit event as a prize for a raffle.
[cross-posted Knit Together]
To my readers who have baby-proofed their home, and in particular have installed cabinet latches — the type that you press down on as you open the door so it doesn’t catch:
How long until I stop forgetting they’re there and attempting to open the door only to have the latch catch and practically rip my nail off?
I feel rather stupid attempting to open my cabinet doors now.
Bean’s bedtime ritual includes saying goodnight to the Mirror Baby in her room. (Her closet is a sliding glass mirror.) Then she says goodnight to the Mama Moon drawing I made just before her birth (actually, it’s a small framed photo of the work).
Tonight, she waved at Mirror Baby as she said goodnight.
She’s so cute it hurts!
From Bean’s birth people have asked me, “Whom do you think Bean looks like?” I have always replied, “Why, she looks like herself!” But really, it’s human nature to want to see family resemblances. I dug up some old photos for reflection. First, here is a photo of me when I was 18 months old.
Now, here’s a photo of my sisters in 1959. My eldest sister (on the left with the huge grin) and I have often been confused for each other; we look quite similar.
And here is a recent photo of Bean. When her smile is bigger her chin is more prominent, but even here it has definition; she does seem to have inherited the Petro chin.
And here’s one more photo for smile and chin comparison.
During the recent visit with Husband’s mother and grandmother, I brought out the photo of me for comparison. The consensus was that Bean looks like her Mommy, though she has her father’s hair color and complexion.
Increasingly I live in the time called Now. My days are full; as Bean becomes more active and engaged, the more present I become. Oh, I do think about future things (my tasks for the next day), and I find past ruminations intrude often. When I “come to” my mind gnawing a past experience like a bone, I stop myself and let the thought go. I’m sure this happens at least dozens of times daily. However, by the end of the day I creep into bed having felt I really lived all day. Besides, by bedtime all I am aware of is that it is time to sleep. I’m tired, very tired, at sunset, but I enjoy my life more than ever. I’m never bored anymore.
I love watching Bean when Husband reads to her. There are a bunch of books that we’ve read often enough that she squeals when we get to parts that make her happy. She’s sitting entirely on her own now. I observed as Husband sat on the floor next to her reading Barnyard Banter (a book we like so much I wrote a review for Amazon) that she squeaked with happiness and alternated between looking at the book and looking up at him. If there was ever a moment to feel adoration, that was it.
I myself am adored beyond my wildest expectations. I am desired, needed, demanded. Bean haaaates the new play yard. Hates it, hates it, hates it. It is prison. It is a place of betrayal and abandonment. It’s where Mommy puts Bean when Mommy needs two free hands and for Bean to be safe. The instant she is set onto the mat she begins wailing. I do what I need to do quickly and talk to her when I’m near enough. If I must leave the room I tell her and say that I’ll be right back. The tears aren’t just sadness. Oh no! She’s screaming mad too! Do not want! I’m going to report you to management!! So I believe separation anxiety has begun.
Another vocal development is what I call the Groan of Concentration. There’s a sound she makes when she examines a toy closely or when she’s trying a new move; it sounds like she’s softly clearing her throat, but it’s not a long “harrrumph.” It’s got a little staccato to it. Her repertoire over the months has grown so much. As a newborn there was the Cindy Lou Who coo. Then the Beavis and Butthead chuckle (which became a dulcet laugh). Then the Poop Shriek; she inhales sharply as though she’s watching a shocking event unfold. When we hear that sound, we know what needs to happen. And now the Groan of Concentration. What an interesting little person she is!
The Super Yard we bought just didn’t cut it. I had trouble with opening it (and it was too tall for me just to lean in and put Bean down or pick her up). It was hard plastic on the side, and dull gray. It looked like a kennel.
So Husband did more research and learned there were good reviews for the Graco Pack-n-Play Tot Block yard. It’s colorful, got soft mesh sides, and has toys sewn in on the sides that squeak and make crinkly noises. Bean’s first time inside was good; she was very curious about all the colors and sounds.
Now I’ve got a safe place to put her when I need to turn my back for a few moments. She’s rolling all over the room with great deliberation and covering a lot of distance. We moved the cat food to the second floor and moved furniture around to clear floor space. She’s changed so much in the past week sometimes it’s hard to believe my eyes. She’s saying “Ma-ma-ma” and “Da-da-da” (indiscriminately, of course, but oh so distinctly!). She’s having little conversations with herself and us that honest-to-goodness sound like they have some kind of structure, some kind of grammar, as if she’s speaking a foreign language. She is such a bright little spark. She enjoyed being the center of attention and charmed us all every single day.
There are no words to convey what I feel tonight. We said good-bye to Bean’s great-grandma and grandma. Bean’s great-grandma will be 86 years old this year. She made a long trip from Houston to see her first great-grandchild. They depart early in the morning, and this moment feels bittersweet. It was a wonderful visit. One never knows what the future brings, and if it will bring another opportunity to visit. I am grateful for what life has given us.
The next week will be rather light with posts. Bean’s grandmother and great-grandmother arrive this afternoon (Husband’s mom and grandma).
Happy Wednesday!
The reason lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place is that the same place isn’t there the second time.
–Willie Tyler
So many times I fail. I fail to get my child to nap properly. I fail to keep the house decently clean. I fail to cook. I fail to keep clean clothes ready for myself. I fail to get enough sleep. Tell me, what is success?
As soon as I write a post about what a happy baby Bean is, we experience our first temper tantrum (if one can call it that) and an all-around difficult day.
In the past week Bean has napped less and less well. I read the blog of someone who is months ahead along a path I have a hunch I may be following (at least in regard to naps). She’s also very attached to me. When Daddy wanted to hold her so I could get a shower, she got very very angry. It was so clear how angry she was as she cried. I could see the future toddler temper in her. She cried for 15-20 minutes while Husband held her and tried to soothe her. She cried herself into a kind of heaving sobbing sigh, the kind one can’t control.
She only napped 30 minutes prior to this. It’s clear she needs to nap. He tried to put her down for a nap. She fell asleep in his arms only to wake as soon as her body touched the mattress. She napped maybe 20 minutes in three hours; the rest of this was crying, drowsing, waking and then crying again.
As soon as she saw me she wanted me again. I’m happy to hold her. I love her. Yet her Daddy loves her too. And sometimes I need to be somewhere else.
We finally gave up. She ate. She cooed and smiled at us. She clearly holds no grudges. She just wants what she wants, dammit. We went to Babies R Us to buy a play yard (the Super Yard XT). She was cheerful, though she looked exhausted. (It was 87 degrees today too, terribly hot.) She charmed people as usual though, smiling and babbling whenever someone greeted her. She had 30-minute nap in her car seat on the way home and nothing more. Then we played, ate dinner, played more, gave her a bath, and put her to bed at 8 p.m. She’s been sleeping about 10.5 hours at night. She surely needs more than 11.5 hours a day of sleep. Doesn’t she? She rubs her eyes and gets whiney.
All we can do is provide the opportunity to sleep. However, given what we experienced today, it’s clear this child has a strong, strong will and does not like change. I’m going to have to get a spine. I’ve a feeling she’s going to be a tough teacher.
I marvel at how Bean’s existence has opened my life. It’s also reassuring to see how people react to her. We go out daily (for my well-being as much as hers).
On Thursday we went to the mall. I’m not a fan of malls, but I thought it would be interesting (anything different is inherently interesting to her). The sunlight streamed through cathedral-type ceilings, and there colors and noises galore. The first store I entered was the Build-a-Bear Workshop. An employee approached to greet me and as soon as she saw Bean she said “Oh hello!” I’m sure they say that to every baby. Well, Bean is always ready with a smile, so she gave that gift. The woman cooed and exclaimed, and called her coworker over. And of course the more they talked to her and me, and used encouraging happy tones, the more Bean cooed and babbled. And the women said things like, “You know this baby gets talked to a lot!” “She’s so happy!” “Look how interested she is!”
Later we sat on a bench watching people. An elderly lady in a loud pink floral blouse and blazer approached and said, “Look at you!” Bean smiled and wiggled. The woman continued, “Does my colorful outfit rock your world?” and Bean babbled, and the conversation continued. As she departed, she said, “You’re a happy, happy baby. I feel it in my heart.”
I went into LUSH and a similar encounter occurred. A staff member approached to greet me and upon seeing Bean, smiled and said hello, and Bean responded. Among the many exclamations uttered, the woman said, “Oh, you’re beautiful! You have such a spark. You’re going to have love and joy all your life.” Then she spoke to me how she loves babies, and of her nephew. Bean opens up all sorts of conversations for me.
It was interesting watching Bean as we waited for the elevator. A ‘tween and her mother were also waiting. Bean gazed at the young woman, studying her intently. The girl looked at Bean and I saw Bean’s cheeks twitch, ready to smile, but the girl did not smile at or speak to her. (That would have been so uncool.) I watched the smile die, but Bean continued to watch the girl, who would glance at her occasionally.
We encountered one more person in the mall, an older woman, who commented on her alertness. (This woman also felt free to grill me with questions about how I feed her, since Bean’s petite, and whether I intended to have more kids. Irritating!)
At Central Park, similar incidents occur. A couple weeks ago a woman came rushing over as though she were greeting a long-lost friend. At first I thought Do I know you? Should I know you? because of how familiar she acted, but it turned out to be all for Bean. The lady said she just loves babies, and that she’s all done having kids (she had a 6-year old with her). She got down on her knees, cooed and spoke to Bean, said blessings in Hindi. I asked if she’d like to hold Bean and the answer was yes. She kissed Bean and hugged her, and when she handed Bean back, she said I’d made her day.
Yesterday at the park, a man with a leashed black dog was there with his grandchild. Bean is fascinated by dogs and cats (thank you, Sandra Boynton). She wriggled in my arms, and I asked if she could meet the dog. The man said yes, the dog is friendly. So I kneeled down and the man helped us pet her. The man commented on how curious and friendly Bean was, how much she smiled, how bright her eyes. And Bean got her first doggy kiss on the face (unexpectedly, and the man apologized, but Bean didn’t mind).
With her grandparents, aunts, and uncles being far away, and with no cousins, Bean is truly a singular child. So the fact that people are drawn to her and that she likes people makes me feel joyful and hopeful.
In honor of Beverly Cleary’s birthday, tomorrow April 12th, is Drop Everything And Read Day.
Give yourself permission to do nothing else if you so desire!
As soon as I write about how Bean is now taking her morning nap later, it changes. Today she’s whiny, clingy, and fussy. She napped briefly in her swing. She won’t fall and stay asleep for me to put her in the crib. I put her back in the swing instead so I could get a bite to eat. (What ever will I do once she’s too big for the swing?) She’s not sleeping, just lying there looking forlorn. I think she feels unwell. She’s been sucking on wet cloths lately (another tooth coming?) and she has a diaper rash from a reaction to sweet potatoes. So she probably hurts at both ends (even with Calmoseptine, she needs frequent diaper changes and cries when her diaper is even just wet).
Perhaps what I need to do is submerse myself. I’m not good at that. I’m not a submissive personality. I’m still struggling to keep a piece of myself, to have control. I’m still looking for patterns, routines, schedules. I’m still dividing my life into “work” and “play,” “on-duty” and “off-duty.” But the truth is that I’ve got this little person in my life now. I made the choice to have her and committed to her care. This means long hours. I used to commit my life to long hours for work and school and accepted that my energy and time for extracurricular activities was limited. This was okay with me, because I had a larger purpose, a bigger goal. Well, I’ve got a new purpose now. Surely it’s worth devotion. The books will be there. I’ll still make art and knit. It just may take longer to accomplish things, and the number of books read or things knitted will be smaller.
Bean’s becoming such a little person. More vocal. More insistent. Physically much stronger. Louder. More present. When she’s in her highchair and I’m making her cereal, I’ll look up at her from the kitchen, and she beams a smile. She looks like a toddler to me already. I feel a change. She’s no longer my little vulnerable baby to cuddle. She’s separating, exploring. I’m also learning on a new level what mothering requires. She’s more tangential in her actions, and sometimes I have to stop myself from exerting my will. I mean, what’s the rush? If there’s no appointment to get to, no destination, then I don’t need to direct things. But I do try to direct things. (What’s so important that I’ve got to do? Go back to the web?) I described this to Husband, and he put it a way I liked. I’m her support staff. My role is to be with her while she grows. It’s just that now she’s more self-directed, I’m learning what this really means. In a way, I’m learning how connected I am to her, but a different kind of connection. It’s not as sweet and cuddly. It’s more of a serving role. Even though she’s moving away from me in one way, the situation requires more of me in another way. And it’s an exciting shift, full of discovery; it’s just very different from the first 6 months.
In addition to this adaptation, there’s the usual unknowing about what she needs. Some days are perfect. I offer food when she’s hungry and she eats. She is tired and I rock her and she sleeps. She plays alone with her toys for chunks of time, giving me a chance to eat. Today she is fussy and clingy. She doesn’t have words to tell me why. I try different interventions, but on days like this little seems to work. If I judged my success as a mother based on how regular every day was, on whether I could get her to routinely nap, I’d give myself a big fat F. Fortunately, I’m not being graded. I can instead just accept that every day can be different and go with the flow. I can accept that expectations will not be met and let go of them.
I did manage to tackle the office/art room. I put Bean in a bouncy chair with me and very quickly sorted things out. I had about 10-15 minutes, and when she started to get restless I pushed her just a little longer so I could get a little more done. (I’m learning that this is a negotiation.) I made quite a dent in it all, although some of the stuff just moved into a pile on the floor instead of the desk. One advantage to squeezing this task in with her nearby is that I don’t waste time over-thinking and lose myself in reverie about what I could do with the item. Either it’s important or it’s not.
And I’m a little slow adapting mentally.
Now Bean wakes at 6 a.m. So do I. We’re going 3 to 3.5 hours before her first nap (she won’t sleep unless she’s really tired). That puts my free time to take a shower smack at the same time Husband gets up to shower. She’s not really napping much in the afternoon anymore. Maybe a half hour to 45 minutes.
Bean is mobile now, and I see how much of my daily life will now become an active vigil protecting her from hurting herself as she explores. That makes getting other tasks done a little harder.
We eat dinner (but lately I haven’t even thought about dinner so we’ve been eating take-out). I’m very tired a lot of the time. By 6:30 (Husband comes home) we eat, and he has time with Bean. He puts her to bed at 8 p.m. After dinner I pick up toys, load the dishwasher, prepare the coffee maker, get out what I need for Bean’s meals the next day (bib, towel, oatmeal in a cup), make milk. Then I’m “off-duty” and it’s about 8 to 8:30. If I haven’t showered, then I have the option to do so.
Then I’m so exhausted I can hardly see straight. I have about 1 to 1.5 hours of “me time” before I crash into sleep. Yet I don’t have the mental energy to concentrate on anything, so reading is difficult. The list of books on my sidebar has been there a long time; it will probably take me the whole year to read those. There’s not much of me left to enjoy at this time of day.
What I’m saying is: I work a 14-hour day and have 90 minutes to myself before sleep (if I want to get a good rest to be functional next day). Husband, on the other hand, gets up at 9 a.m., goes to work at 10:00, comes home at 6:30 p.m., puts Bean to bed at 8:00, and then has time to himself. He usually stays up until 1 a.m.
It doesn’t seem fair. Am I complaining? Maybe a little. I’m really tired, but not just physically. I need to somehow replenish other aspects of myself sometimes too. The office/art room is a disaster, all horizontal surfaces covered, so I’m overwhelmed when I enter the room. Can’t even clean it up, but that must happen before I can start anything else.
This is the life of a mother: long hours. A man works from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.
There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.
–George Santayana
Flickr is offering Pro users the option to upload short videos. I tried it, and it worked!
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