Question Mark

Sometimes there are moments in parenting that I find leave me feeling like I"m stuck in a comic strip.  You know the type.  The ones where the adult is left shaking their head, and with a large speach bubble over their head, filled with question marks.  The ones where logic and reason no longer prevail, and all you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride?

Yup.

Had one of those last night!

So as E has finally gotten completely entrenched in toddlerhood, our evening routines have changed.  The weather is nicer and more time is spent outside.  Pretty much all time is spent outside, from after daycare, until dinner, bath and bed time.  E races through bath, and runs, full of more energy than I think I've had in the past 5 YEARS of my life, through the house and up the stairs.  Bouncing, and yelling, running, and hollering, saying "BYE" to everything and anything that will listen.  And sometimes, even to things that won't listen.  We've finally replace the rocking chair with a cozy upholstered chair, so that after changed for bed, E and I can snuggle down, and in the last dim light of Spring, we read stories together.  She's still just getting there, patient enough to do it.  Sometimes too impatient to sit still for it.  But I can see the change of a phase.  The time of rocking her into slumber is gone.  The time of enjoying those 15 - 30 mins of Mommy and Daughter snuggling, although small, is precious.  And then, a usually WIDE awake, bouncing about E, is popped into her crib.  Where she works it out in her own time.  And goes to sleep.

Last night was like all other nights, right up until popping her into the crib, giving her good night kisses, and leaving the room to the sounds of her nightly protest over bed time.  But by the time I got downstairs it had already softened, and as I sat outside with Daddy, beneath her window, we heard no tears.  So we declared bed time a success.  After a few quiet moments outside, planting plants in our pots, as we discussed the events of the day, and the plans for the weeks to come, we headed back inside.  The house was peacefully quiet.  You know...  the way it only can on a spring or summer evening.  With dusk leaving the house in an quiet darkness.  Out of habit, more than need, I took a peak at the video baby monitor.  And...  much to my dismay...  the silence was THOROUGHLY misleading.

E was NOT asleep.  E was laying in her crib, appearing to count sheep.  Which in itself wouldn't be a bad thing.  The strange thing was her missing pajamas.  Laying in her crib, babbling to herself, trying to pull the blankets on herself.  From all accounts (Daddy's and mine), it looked like she regretted the decision to disrobe and was trying to warm herself up.

So upstairs we trudged, and back into PJs she went.  And back downstairs we went.  She seemed to think this was a good choice.  She stayed in them this time, and resumed her count of sheep.  And finally, close to 9 PM, the little voice stopped, and our toddler drifted off into dreamland.

Being a parent is sweet.  But sometimes it just leaves you with a big QUESTION MARK?

It's not Unique, but it's still funny...

So we tried to suggest E take a nap on Easter. She didn't make it 3 mins in the car after church before she passed out. She let me carry her ALL the way upstairs, and as SOON as she hit the crib she jolts awake and starts SCREAMING bloody murder. So I try, then put her down. I try again, and put her down. Daddy tries, and puts her down. Then I tell him, bring her down, give her some lunch, maybe she's hungry. The child wolfed down a sandwich (because apparently the sleeve of ritz crackers she ate during church wasn't enough (yea don't tell anyone about that part either)). So back upstairs we go. Daddy tries to put her down. He tries for 20 mins. And still she won't go to sleep. I say: "FINE! Just leave her there, we've got guests coming in 20 mins and we've got stuff that has to get done. She'll cry herself to sleep. 20 mins later. No noise. I go look at the baby monitor... she's just playing her crib. Walking around. Throwing things over the edge. WHATEVER. She's quiet. I'm busy. I don't care. I go on my merry way. Another 20 mins later. Still no noise coming from upstairs, guests expected ANY minute. I look on the baby monitor (maybe she's FINALLY fallen asleep)... she's standing in her crib, rubbing her hands together, looking at them and then rubbing them together. I can see brown stuff all over her hands.


I storm out the back door and yell at Daddy who is out hiding easter eggs... "OH NO! I can NOT HANDLE THIS! YOU GO DEAL WITH YOUR DAUGHTER" He comes inside and asks what's the problem. I say: "She's playing in her crib." Daddy: "With what?" Me: "POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP"...
Upstairs he goes, downstairs he comes holding her as far away from him as he can. Dumps her in the tub fully clothed, and begins DOUSING her with cold water. She starts SCREAMING, I hear: "WELL! That's what HAPPENS WHEN YOU PLAY WITH YOUR POOP!"

A few minutes later I hear:  "I can't WAIT till you're old enough for me to tell your friends! 'And one year, on Easter...."

Cups are a difficult Concept

As adults we take them for granted.  Cups.  Particularly, cups without lids.  But when you take a moment to think about it, imagine a child.  A nursing child never had to worry about spilling all the contents on the floor.  Neither does a child who uses a bottle.  Then we move them to a sippy cup.  Which again, might leak, but certainly, one careless gesture does not sacrifice all of our choice beverage.  Perhaps you then move to a straw, and once again, the contents are safe from our careless adventures. 

So, as a child, cups, are a difficult concept.

Yesterday afternoon was a nice mild Spring afternoon.  And as Ellie played outside, I sat in the sun, enjoying the warmth after our long cold winter.  I finally caught on that (much to my dismay), Ellie was finding sources of rain water, sticking her finger in them, and licking her fingers.  ICKY.  So inside we both went to get a cup with actual water.  Acceptable, healthy, drinking water.

At any rate.  I couldn't find the lid to the cup, and I decided, oh heck, it's warm, we're outside.  Let's just give this a whirl.  So back outside, I gave Ellie the cup.  I explained that it had no lid, and that she had to carry it carefully like a big girl, or the water would come out.  And she listened intently, took the cup in both hands, and ran off across the driveway.  Only, to learn, that, well, liquid moves with motion.  Running, causes motion.  Running causes liquid to be in motion, and well, of course, all the water splashed out all over the place (mainly all over her).  So again, I gave her some more, and she listened intently, and then spent a great deal of time drinking her water because she walked off.  Finally, getting the cup to a very low level, she deemed it "safe" to tuck in the small of her arm, so she could bend over and pick up something off the ground.

Come on, you all see it coming right?  Bending over, tipping the cup on it's side (nearly upside down), causes the liquid (per gravity), to end up on the ground.  I watched in amusement.  It took her several minutes to realize that A) her water was gone, and B) where it had gone to.

She was soaked when we came inside.  But like I said, it was warm.  And she'll have to learn at some point.  And as initially indicated, cups, are a difficult concept.

Too much... too soon...

For Mommy that is.  It seems like my little baby E has done way too much growing up in the last 7 days.  Much to my great relief E has given up the pacifier.  It was virtual a non-event.  A day or two of some sabotaging and replacing "Binky" with "Blankie", and E is walking tall.  I think I could have handled this change, at least better, if it was the only one. 

But then this week she's also started making progress in potty training.  It's not something we're working very hard at.  But it's a part of her bed time routine now.  Dinner -> Potty -> Bath -> Bed.  And it's been working.  She uses the potty before bath about 75% of the time, if not more.  And last night, was no different.  She used the potty.  And then we were getting ready for bath.  I scooped E up and put her in the bath tub, and for a totally inexplicable reason she started SCREAMING at me, and crying.  I checked the water (urgently), was it to hot?  no.  What was wrong!?  She was standing there, trying to get out of the bathtub.  Calmly, I was asking her what was wrong.  And then, standing there, she looked down.  And started going peepee in the bathtub!  My heart broke, she looked at me, so dismayed.  I guess she hadn't gotten all her business done!  And she was thoroughly distraught over the fact she KNEW she WANTED to use the potty, but I had her in the bathtub!  I wanted to cry.  I kept going, I'm sorry honey, it's ok, if you have to go, you just need to tell mommy!  "Peepee", or "Potty".  She doesn't say the words.  No matter how often we try to help her say them.  All the words she says, those are not 2 that she's ready to have in her vocabulary.  Knowing that she understand what the feeling is, and the consequences of those feelings, and the need to be ON the potty when you have them.  Was overwhelming for me.  E is not even 18 months old.  She's "too young" to potty train.  But she's shown signs that she's ready, so we try to offer her the opportunity without any force.

Anyway - as though giving up Binky, and using the Potty were NOT enough. 

When E gave up Binky this weekend, she started toting around a stuffed puppy, and Blankie.  This seemed like a reasonable trade.  And since last Friday, Puppy and Blankie have gone to daycare with her.  But my to my amazement this morning, she insisted on going back upstairs, right before we left the house, and placing them in her crib.

So now, she's not only Binky free, but lovey free.  And I'm just not sure how I feel about it.  I know she'll want to go get Blankie and Puppy when we get home from daycare.  But the fact that she didn't want to take them with her, really hit home for me.

What happened to my baby?  I love her more than life itself, and enjoy every second with her.  But sometimes I just look, and think, there was a time, when I couldn't get off the couch, for all you wanted was to sleep in my arms.  I could hold you for hours, and stroke your sweet face, and snuggle you close, and keep you warm.

But now you're a little girl.  And I'm so proud, but it still makes my heart ache.

Some of my friends would say:  "Guess it's time for another one".  Maybe someday, till then, I'll just have to adjust to my little girl.

The Straw That Broke the Camel

I feel like I need to share what happened to me yesterday.  I feel like my voice of the difficulties of motherhood are powerful to all who read them.  In today's world, we strive to find other voices that sound like our own.  And I know that what I went through yesterday will ring true to so many of you.

As I mentioned earlier, E was sent home from daycare this week.  We believed the cause to be the shots, but E was running a very low grade temperature yet again yesterday.  And I got "the call" from the daycare to come pick her up.  I don't know what snapped inside, but it was just the straw.  I raised the total to 15 total days, because E had made it half way through the day, so I only missed a half day of work.  But then I began to weigh the situation.  Not only was E getting sent home today(yesterday), but she couldn't go back to daycare tomorrow (today).  And as I pulled my car out of my parking space at work.  I started to cry.

I cried the entire 30 mins from my job, to the daycare.  And then spent a good 5 mins in the car, pulling myself together before I went inside.

I cried because I felt like a "bad" mother, because I couldn't just be there for my baby when she needed me.  And I cried because I feel like I am not there for my job to show I am a good and productive worker.  I felt like in the attempts of being a working mother, I was failing on all fronts, and that I was not working to capacity at ANY of those jobs.  I finally called Daddy and told him I could NOT miss another day of work, and that he would have to take a day to take care of E.  And then after I got E, I cried some more, because part of me, of course, WANTS to be home with her.

E and I had lunch.  And thankfully, it was nap time.  E and I BOTH crawled into our bed, and slept for 3 hours.  I figured, if I was eating up my vacation time, I might as well be doing something I would do on vacation, and being productive was just going to HAVE to wait.

I woke up feeling better.  And this afternoon, the whole incident is behind me.  E had a wonderful day home with her Daddy, and is feeling much better.  The two of them spent the whole day playing outside together. 

But as I walked into the building this morning, I felt like I HAD to share this experience.  Because I know we are all there at one time or another.  Where we just feel like there is too much on our plate, and that we are letting people down all around us.  So I promised to share, the good, the bad, and the funny.  This is the bad.  And it just is.  Now I'm going home to a lovely day, and play with my baby, who I miss so dearly.

So we all just have to hang strong, stick together, and thanks for listening. 

Working Mom Guilt...

I have a dear friend who's been traveling for business a lot the past couple of months.  With more travel in the near future, and she said something that triggered this post.  I hope she doesn't mind if I post it here:

"Mommy guilt has driven me to make a reservation for Big Bird's Birthday Bash at two on Sunday after coming in at five a.m.that morning..."

Mommy guilt is powerful.  I'm struggling with it myself, as we speak.  Poor little E had some shots yesterday, the Measles, and the Mumps.  And she was not herself last night.  But today is a new day, so I was hoping for the best.  When you're a working mom, in March, of a long winter, with a 16 month old, and you look at your days missed of work.  It forces you to hope EACH day is a NEW day.  And that you can somehow push forward.  Out of work 14.5 days.  Between half days, and sick days, and "vacation days", I've missed over 2 weeks of work.  HOW is that possible?

So off little E went today.  And then it happened, you know, the same thing that's been happening for MONTHS now...  "the call".  Temperature of 101.6.  We get the benefit of the doubt today, because E had her shots yesterday.  And it's clear on the sheet that a temperature is a side effect of the shots.  But, what about the RED EAR, the dr had noticed yesterday. 

So drs have been called, day cares have been checked in with, managers have been put "on notice".  And now E is napping at daycare, and Mommy is just waiting.  And thinking.  And feeling guilty.  There is nothing I want, like I want to run out of here, and go get my clingy, needy, not feeling 100% little girl.  But then I look at my work calendar and remember, 14.5 days. 

And so...  here I sit...

A Working Mom Moment

We've had a rough few months.  Between things going on in the family, holidays, weather complications, and illness, I don't think I've had a full work week since November. 

A friend passed around a link to an article, that after the past 4 months, had me laughing so hard I was crying.  And it brought me full circle with all that I struggle with on a daily basis.  It was in my face, larger life, impossible to ignore...  the battles that I do not struggle with on a daily basis, but had been literally struggling with in the past couple of weeks.  Not the last of which included the "Dreaded Daycare Phone Call".  You know the one.  The one where you're minding your business, having a normal work day, your work phone rings and it's the daycare.  "Come pick your child up, they are 'sick'".  Now, I'll be the first to tell you that if E is ACTUALLY sick, I don't SEND her to daycare.  But daycares have very firm policies, for good reason I'm sure, and therefore an even seemingly otherwise normal child must go home.  While, a seemingly MISERABLE child can remain.  Anyway, I digress.  E had a fever.  Over the "magic" number 101.  Mind you, the pediatrician doesn't want to hear from me unless it's over 102. 

So off I went to get E.  I learned that the "mystery fever" was going around daycare.  No other symptoms.  Just a "fever". 

Anyway, this was the 2nd - 3rd time in 2 - 3 weeks that I had to miss work for either illness myself, or illness with E.  And again, it was a "lost" week.

I was happy this week to have a "normal" week.  And then IT happened.  The OTHER working Mom moment.  As I drove home from daycare, and listened to E scream "BINKY!" the whole ride home.  I mean really, it's 3 mins, under a mile!  As we pulled in the driveway, I looked at the clock.  5:30.  Bedtime, is 8, and the daycare is open till 6:30.  "Maybe I should bring her back!""

You spend all of this time away from them.  Then you get to enjoy them when they are LEAST enjoyable.  It doesn't mean we don't love them.  Just means we're a working mom.  So I have to say this article really put their finger on the essence of the situation.  No matter WHICH situation we are in, they are BOTH miserable sometimes, but they both hold benefits. 

And mostly, there are times we ALL want to send our children back!



To read the referenced article:  Lesson 12:  Working Moms Vs. Stay-at-Home Moms

I haven't forgotten...

But "NEWS FLASH"...  sometimes when parenting, there's just nothing worth mentioning.  It can be a good thing!

Sergeantsville Farmers' Market: Fresh Fruits and Vegetables

Sergeantsville Farmers' Market: Fresh Fruits and Vegetables: "Welcome. Everyone knows that they should eat fresh fruits and vegetables. But so often I talk to parents and kids alike and the ..."

A Moment of Reflection

Being a parent has made me realize that so often a lot of parenting is funny.  I mean, really, if it weren't, then a lot of it would just be hair pulling.  So you must laugh.  But every now and then, I am overwhelmed by these feelings of deep intimate reflection.  And so here I am.

There are lots of things I expected about parenting, but even more, there are so many things that I never saw coming.  And I am forever grateful for these things.  I owe my daughter for my place in life.  The place I sit today, the person I am, the people who surround me.  I owe to my daughter.  She has brought people into my life, that otherwise never would be here.  And thus, I'm grateful to her.

As a society we struggle to make real personal connections.  Once I had E, I felt even more removed from real people than ever before.  Now, a year after returning to my full time corporate job, I find myself surrounded by more "real" people, than ever before.  And I could not be more grateful for those people in my life.  And truly, without E, I never would have meet them. 

I became very close to E's first daycare teacher.  E became very close with her as well.  Consequently, per her suggestion, we attended a local farmers market opening day.  And it was a truly wonderful family experience.  It became a regular part of our life last summer.  But every step we have in our life, it starts a path, and this event introduced me to a company called Usborne Books & More, and a local consultant.  Little did I know, this moment would become a defining moment in my life.  I held a home show, and in the weeks after the home show, realized that this consultant was going to become a life long friend.  Through our long conversations about parenting I realized how important literacy and reading was to me.  And I ultimately joined the company as a consultant.  Taking on yet another full time job.  This consultant is not only a friend now, but fondly looked upon by my daughter.  We now have added another family member to our small, but ever growing family network.  And although I have gone from a tired, busy, full time working mother, to a tired, busy twice over full time working parent, that is HAPPY.

But the more that I interacted with people, the more that I wanted to interact with people.  And I found myself searching out more mom's to have in my life.  And I was lucky enough to find another mom with a daughter just a few weeks older than E.  And better yet, we had similar parenting goals, and thoughts and ideas, and lived very close to one another.  So this introduced another family into our life.  And it was wonderful, and as I suppose it's intended to happen, she introduced us to another family.

And so I realized, that around me, the people were growing.  Meeting people begot meeting people!  Funny how that happens.

As I said, a year ago, I was desperate for people in my life.  Like minded people, with similar values, and goals.  And in the past year, I have filled my life and my heart up with these people.  And I am therefore forever grateful for what my daughter has brought me.  Not just the love of a child, and all the wonderful parenting moments.  But more and beyond that.  She has brought me to a place where I am truly happy, grateful, loved, and at peace and proud of who I am.

Gone is the isolation so prevalent in our society today.  And Hello is a world full of possibilities.

So as the snow finally melts away, and the warmer weather begins to surface, I look forward to the return of the Farmer's Market.  To celebrate the beginning of the life that I love.  The people I love.  And the world that I love.

Thank You Baby Girl!

Daddy's and Baby's

Men think about children differently than Women.  That is in NO way to belittle what men provide to the dynamic.  In fact, it is largely this dynamic that keeps me going from day to day.  So to this end in mind, I share with you as follows:

E decided this morning that she was going to get off our bed.  Both Daddy and I think this is a bad idea, laregely given that it's a 4 ft drop!  But we watch her do it anyways, because, I mean, someday she'll have to perfect her landing right?
Anyway - Off E Slides, and we see the last of her curly mop head disappear over the edge of the bed (don't worry, feet first desent), and as the last curl vanishes, we hear a long fart... followed by a soft thud. And E gets up and walks away.

Now, aside from the obvious about this situation being funny, Daddy then contributes his male perspective to the situation...

As Daddy stands in front of his closet, and E marches past, out the door, clutching her Binky, off on some early morning Mission, Daddy looks at E.  And E looks at Daddy.  Then...  Daddy says:
"What was that? Your jet pack?"

==============  INSERT LAUGHTER HERE =================

Yup.  Men just think about children differently.

Toilets and E don't mix

By popular demand. Ok, so by popular, I mean by demand of 1, but still there was a demand, so! By my popular demand, the "toilet story". I should preface this story with a warning that laughter WILL ensue!

It's amazing how being a parent changes you. You believe you know who you are. And then you are a parent. And months into it, you find yourself the parent you ACTUALLY are, without the books, and google searches and 800 person poll as to what you should do. You just are. And you look around, and realize, THIS, is who I am. And this is the parent I am. And boy, I am NOT the parent I thought I would be. And this can be good. It can be bad. And heck, in a lot of ways, it just can be, without being either.

Somehow, this really explains the toilet story.

You should be hearing the fading twinkle music, that brings us to a historical date in time. Look around you, the computer/phone is fading away, the room around you is becoming fuzzy, and as it begins to refocus you are struck by the smell of ever green, the sound of yule tide good cheer, and, well, when the dust settles, it's 2 months ago, and it's Christmas.

So! Christmas. Lots of family gatherings. Schedules thrown out the window. Cute little dresses. Did I mention lots of family gatherings? As we sailed into Christmas evening, E had already experienced a peaceful Christmas Eve with a church service and meal with her Grandpa, Grandma and Great Grandma. A Christmas morning, full of more toys than a 1 yo could possibly appreciate, and a long afternoon nap. We were sailing through this first "real" Christmas no problems! So off for Christmas dinner we went. To Daddy's side of the family. To see Uncle A and Aunt J, and be spoiled by Nonno, and doted upon by her older boy cousins J(6) and A(4).

As with any family gathering in OUR family, there was wine. There was dinner. There was coffee. There was sambuca. And there were J, A, and little E. Have you ever noticed when you are surrounded by family that somehow your senses are heightened by a slight distrust, or they are dulled, because the trust is very deep, and you finally feel like you can let your guards down and relax. In this case, as with all of our family gatherings, our senses calm. And Mommy and Daddy relax. And it's especially easy with J following E around and providing a running commentary as to their adventures, activities, and most importantly their where abouts. Once you've heard for the twelfth time "MOM! E is in the living room!", and have had your 3rd adult beverage over the course of the evening, you start to get that warm family holiday feeling of security.

And then it hits you. Something you hear, that your mind just can't process.

"MOM! E is in the TOILET!"

My favorite part, is that nobody moved. In fact, Uncle A, repeated it, while continuing what he was doing, without missing a beat. "E is in the toilet." Matter of fact. Uncle A is a cop. He is very matter of fact.

As if slow motion, to this day, I see Aunt J, and Daddy go flying out of the room. This little call had come from upstairs. I hear the thumping of feet on the stairs. And frankly, in the split seconds there after, I decided to finish my sambuca. It was a small bathroom. There were already 2 adults on their way. And J had NOT sounded concerned.

Aunt J rounded the corner to see E, leveraged up on her belly, on the rim of the toilet, with both hands splashing with delight in the toilet. Her hair was soaked, her clothes were wet from top to bottom. As Daddy rounded the corner on Aunt J's heels, E turned and gave a grin! And of course tried to make a rapid B-line for the door. Lest any of the adults have the intention of ruining her fun.

E was returned to me shortly there after. In cousin A's PJs, although big, at least dry. With a head full of damp curls. I would love to tell you she snuggled down and turned into the sweet baby I had spent the previous Christmas with. But she didn't. She wriggled down, and was off.

It was eye opening.

A) You can't control everything, heck, with a toddler, you're lucky if you can control ANYTHING
B) Roll with the punches, it's considerably more enjoyable
C) Playing in toilet water isn't the end of the world
D) Our future was going to be full of chaos... and we would learn to love every second of it

And in that moment. As my daughter played in the toilet, and her Aunt and Daddy cleaned her up, and I chatted with her Uncle, and Nonno, and sipped my sambuca, I saw it. The kind of parent I am. And I loved meeting her. And was ready to follow her into the life that was ahead of us, whole heartedly. Especially if she'd pass the sambuca!

while I'm on the subject

Talking. We are labeling things. By WE I mean E is labeling things. Daddy and I parade through the house like two idiots who have lost our minds. What is this? Can you say "cup"? I imagine E thinks she has the dumbest parents ever. They need constant reminding as to what basic objects are. Oh well, good thing we were blessed with a little genius.

After a particularly rough night I sat listening to Daddy show E some flash cards. They speed through a bunch of them, "ball", "cat", "shoe", "dog", "baby". When suddenly what can only be described as a conversation takes a turn for the "worse"

All the flash cards elicited a response of "shoe"...

Daddy looks at a picture of a "woman" and decides, well, she was WEARING shoes... but had no good explanation for the sheep. except perhaps it should wear shoes... alas our little genius was done... and for the rest of time when a word is unknown, it will always be... a... SHOE

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I am one of those parents

I just said to my husband... I remember seeing other parents having fluid conversations with their young toddler. Thinking that the child made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

I am one of those parents. And surely you jest if her words are not very well articulated. What can I say... she's a genius.

Yup... I'm one of those parents!

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I'm Back

Time to bring this back to life. I had visions of what this would be. And without the time for what I perceived to be perfection, I gave up entirely. With a new vision of what this can be. I forge forward once again. Now, if I can not beguile you with an extended amount of time, I can at least record, in a brief thought. Some of my favorite moments. So. Like I said, I'm back.

Babies Bounce Back

As I'm sure all you smart readers were able to surmise from the recent posts, E has decided to both sit up on her own. And pull up to standing on her own. Both, in the same weekend. Well, as a matter of fact, her first attempt to pull up was only minutes after her first attempt to sit up. Although, her attempts at sitting up were far more successful than her first attempts at pulling up. In fact, the first attempt to sit up, resulted in, well... sitting up. Her first attempt at pulling up resulted in falling on the floor and crying for a long time. Oh well. Such is the world of babies.

And it is the world of babies, we have now moved on to the phase that I will refer to as "babies bounce back". There is nothing short of amazing at how much they cry when they get to this just barely mobile phase. She's constantly getting overly excited about one thing or another, forgetting to keep her balance, and falling over backwards. Or forwards. Or sideways. She cries. Bloody murder mind you. And 15 minutes later or so, she's back off exploring the world. It's an adjustment as a parent. You go from being the protector. To the... well... "run around behind them, fighting every urge to protect them, and let them figure it out on their own." Shortly after E decided she had "mastered" pulling up, I left her in the living room, on the floor. Ran up the stairs to grab her school outfit, and came back down. Not even 30 seconds. When I got back to the living room, E was standing beside a laundry basket full of towels. She was clutching the towel on top with one hand, and the side of the laundry basket with the other, as though the world would come to an end if she let go. Well the whole world probably would not have. But her little standing world, most certainly would have. And in that moment, I had this intense urge to run over, scoop her up, and say "NOOOO my little precious baby, you will hurt yourself if you fall." But I suddenly understood she was moving into a realm where making sure she had a relatively safe environment to explore in, was NOT going to prevent her from ever getting hurt. And so it began.

I keep learning, and chanting in my head, my new mantra "Babies bounce back." And she does. She has such determination, that she will fall down, go boom, cry for what feels like for ever. And then go on as if very little had happened.

Enter this weekend. Enter - bad mommy moment.

We went to a company picnic this weekend. It was fun, it was hot. I think E had a good time. What was to not like, wheeled around in a shaded stroller, people filling your cups as needed, and passing you little bits of yummy food. So it went well. Even the long drive to and from the picnic went well. But 2 blocks from our house. I look in the mirror in time to see E take a sip of her bottle, turn pail, and proceed to throw up on herself. GREAT! On the positive side, we were only 2 blocks from home. On the negative side... well really... I'm sure I don't have to explain it! But back to this weekend. And my bad mommy moment. We get home 2 minutes later and I scoop E out of the car seat and bring her into the house. I put E down in the bathtub for just a second so I could put some other things down and get ready to give her a bath. There was no water in the bathtub. And, she was covered in vomit. Seemed like a good contained spot for her. WRONG. First, she starts to crawl around the tub. Ok. Not so bad. I mean she can't get far right? WRONG. Then she slips, puts her hand in the drain. REALLY?!?!? Come on kid! I didn't think to put the plug in the drain, again, NO WATER, and she was OBVIOUSLY too big to fall in the drain. But I didn't think she'd be shoving her hand down it. So anyway, AGAIN, back to the bad mommy moment. She slips in the drain, and BONKS her head on the bathtub. HARD. I was in the room, I saw it happen, my heart sunk, I felt horrible. And I couldn't move fast enough to get to her. Not fast enough to prevent her from panicking and whipping her head to the SIDE, and then conking herself on the SIDE of the tub. Bad Mommy moment is in full swing now! I finally get to her. Scoop her up, and kiss her bumps. Trying to calm her down. She's still soaked. So we both climb into the bathtub, full clothes, and I turn on the water to clean her up. As if her world was not already spinning. The shower flip was still on, so instead of coming out in the tub, the water starts pouring down from above. E starts screaming bloody murder. At the top of her lungs. ABUSE! It was as if it was the straw that broke the baby's back. Daddy had come into the bathroom before I had tried to turn the water on. I sat on the floor of the tub, with E in my arms, fully clothed, soaked, and just looked up at him. I wanted to cry like E. But I'm mommy. So I pulled myself together, pealed her out of her dirty clothes, and finally accomplished filling up some water in the tub and cleaning her up. Daddy was able to sweep her up and take her to the living room, where, with a new diaper on, she decided it was safe to move on. And off she went. Back to crawling all over. Sitting up. Falling over, standing up, falling down.

It was when I realized my new mantra... Babies Bounce Back.

E has a big bruise on her forehead. And my heart still aches when I look at it. But E is still moving on. Even took her bath in the tub without any seeming leftover dislike for it, given the previous days disaster. So as I said. We've moved into a new phase. One which no matter how hard I try to protect her, I can't protect her from everything. She will get her fair share of bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes. And I'll just have to try to limit what I can, and try my mommy magic to heal the rest.

To all the Mommies and Daddies out there, keep your heads high as our little ones start to fly. And as always, who dropped the pacifier!

E pulls up

Sitting up

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

I think, I CAN!

I don't know what happened. I could make any number of excuses. But for whatever the reason, Daddy and I have not felt like we had a grasp on traveling, socializing and otherwise getting out and into the world with E until about the past month and a half. We have taken on attending parties, joining play dates, making mommy/daddy friends, and otherwise, finding that over the 6 - 8 months the world did not disappear while we were holed up in our house trying to figure out how we would handle the world and our newly found joy... E. Something happened, I suppose E just got old enough, and I suppose we somehow just got comfortable with the idea. And out, we began to go. It's been very enjoyable. There is a world after baby. It is a different one, a much heavier mule packed one. But, still, a world!

One thing that we have not taken on yet, is to go to a restaurant, just the 3 of us. So, in honor of Father's Day, E and I are taking Daddy out to eat. So this weekend. We will venture out into the sit down world of eating... and try to eat out. I have no doubts it will be fine. And fun. But it will also take a certain amount of planning. No more, is the question... do I have clothes on? Yes. Do I have my purse/wallet? Yes. Cool, good to go. And walk out the door. Now one must contend with... do we need the travel highchair? Or just the highchair cover? Do we need toys? Do we need a bottle/sippy cup? Do we need a spoon? Do we have a bib? Do we have something to wipe her off with after she eats? Will the restaurant have something she WANTS to eat? Don't get me wrong, E eats everything. And her tastes are easy to fulfill. Do they have bread? Yup? We're good to go. But at any rate, you can see, this is no longer the easiest of things to accomplish. Not to mention, diaper bag, with the usual stuff. I am honestly looking forward to it. I feel as though we are going to accomplish what, just months ago, we felt was unaccomplishable. And it will be incredibly special. It will be US. Hello world, look at our family. We're a family of 3. Hear us ROAR! Well hopefully not. Hopefully we'll just coo and make cute baby sounds. But maybe we WILL roar. And if that's the case. I'll deal with it.

Side note... I'm a little compulsive. But in a lot of ways, I'm not as compulsive as I thought I would be about being Mommy. I used to worry a LOT. I think people still tend to view what I do as worrying, but really, it's not so much worrying as it is planning. Maybe anxiety is how I know the difference. I don't feel that knot in the pit of my stomach when I think about it. I actually just feel excited. And a lot of the time, as it pertains to things with E. I am pretty relaxed about it. So long as she's not in any pain. Everything will be ok.

So anyway, that brings me to the BIG "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can." In 2 short weeks we will be taking our first vacation. We will be traveling 7 hours, in the car, to Northern NY and we will be staying in a rented home, for a week. I am more excited than I can even begin to explain to people. And yet, somehow, the task is a little daunting. First of all, let me preface this with a... I know it will be fine, I know I will forget things, and I'm not really stressed out. But with that said, it is STILL the first time traveling with E, and the first time we will be away from home overnight and for an extended period of time. And due to this... the task... is DAUNTING.

E won't have her jumperoo... she won't have her crib, she won't have her cat, she won't have her floor. We won't have daycare... We won't have Ms. K or Ms. J. We will have E for a whole week. Now, lest you think we're doing this with nothing, E will have her pack n play, and will have Mommy, Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa, and more extended family than she'll know what to do with. But before I can get there, and relax, and enjoy this vacation. I must pack. Just thinking about it makes me wish the vacation was another month off. But it isn't, and it's a good thing because it'll just make me deal with it. I will plan, and I will pack. And I will undoubtedly forget things. But I will do it! And we will go! And we will come back! And it will be GREAT. But seriously, you don't realize how much stuff you use daily with your child. It just amazes me. Well... I could keep going on endlessly, but I gotta go pack.

Happy summer vacationing everybody!
Come on NOW.... Who dropped the Pacifier?

The Soundtrack to your life...

Frequently I hear people talk about songs stuck in their heads. This happens to me a lot, but most of the time, it's the same songs. Over and over. Sometimes I feel like there is a soundtrack to my life. There are certain songs that come on the radio, or shuffle in on my ipod, and I am brought back to a very specific instance in my life. And frequently, the moments are mundane. Not largely significant. Just a moment. A moment when I was listening to the song, and the song explained my life in a nutshell. Or, sometimes, it was just the song that was on the radio every other minute during that time.

For example, One Headlight, by The Wallflowers. This song was incredibly popular in my junior/senior years of high school. And I have these distinct memories of driving down a particular road, with the windows down, and the song cranked up on the radio. It's not a particularly uplifting song. But what do you know when you're 17 and cruising around thinking that #1 you know all there is to know about life, and #2 that everything that happens to you is unbelievably life altering. Little do you know, that there is so much to the world out there.

That promptly moved into my college years. I spent several summers taking the train in and out of NY where I worked with my father. And over those several summers I remember listening a couple of songs endlessly. Although what they meant to me changed, and who I blamed as the villain in them changed. Like, Jumper, by Third Eye Blind, or Motorcycle Driveby, also by Third Eye Blind, I listened to them (Third Eye Blind) a lot during those years!

This for the time being ends my college years and moved me into my early working years. Where I have a distinct memory of walking down the stairs to the PATH in the Hoboken train station while listening to Something More, by Sugarland. Another song that felt like the soundtrack to my life during this time included songs like Manic Monday, by The Bangles.

And what this has to do with "Who Dropped the Pacifier" is now on the horizon, as I was planning my wedding and beginning to set out on my own, the song Baby Girl, by Sugarland would play on repeat on my ipod for hours.

And as I awaited the arrival of E, the soundtrack to my life changed yet again. And it was filled with songs such as: You're Gonna Miss This by Trace Adkins, I Loved Her First by Heartland, Let Them Be Little by Billy Dean, I Loved Her First by Heartland, Somebody's Hero by Jamie O'Neal, It Won't Be Like This For Long by Darius Rucker, My Little Girl by Tim McGraw, Then They Do by Trace Adkins, You'll Always Be My Baby, by Sara Evans, and the absolute most important, My Wish by Rascal Flatts. I will never forget driving home from work the first time I heard My Wish while pregnant. I know exactly where I was, and as I listened to the lyrics, tears started pouring down my face. And I knew... this, was my baby's theme song. I spent weeks collecting songs about becoming a parent. As I didn't know if E was yet to be a girl or a boy, at the time I collected songs for both. And they all touched my soul. They articulated in ways I still could not, what it meant to me to become a parent. The unconditional love that I was already feeling, could only be explained by these songs that played in my head, for 9 months. Before we left for the hospital, I made a special cd, one that was intended for a baby girl, and another, intended for a baby boy. And in the quiet of the evening on E's first night in this world. I popped the cd into my cd player, and I quietly whispered the songs to her. Daddy was at home, changing, feeding the cats, and then coming back to our side. The rain was pouring down outside. And I just walked around the room with little E in my arms, and sang to her. Weeks later, those same songs would be quietly sung to her as she nursed in the middle of the night. And now, almost at 8 months, the songs still play in the background in the evening, and I still sing them softly to her as she takes her bed time bottle. And hope... that someday... they will create the foundation for the soundtrack of her life.



To parents everywhere, may the songs that are in the soundtrack to your life... articulate what you can not. And heal your soul when they need to. And most of all... perhaps, in some small way... they will tell us Who Dropped the Pacifier.