Truly youth is wasted on the young.
When you are young there are so many things you don't appreciate. You are so eager to rush headlong into adulthood that you never stop to realize how good you've really got it.
"No, Mommy, I don't want to take a two hour nap in the middle of the afternoon!"
"No, Mommy, I don't want to relax in my comfy stroller that is outfitted with a cushy sleeping bag insert to keep me toasty in the cold weather. I want to get down and walk on the hard concrete!"
"No, Mommy, please don't spoon feed me that delicious puree that you spent an hour painstakingly making from only the finest, freshest, organic ingredients. I want to pick up pieces of lint off the floor and shove THOSE into my mouth instead!"
Waste.
Sleep. When we are young, we think sleep is a waste of time. Live while I'm alive, sleep when I'm dead. Waste. Sleep is lovely. It is comforting, refreshing, peaceful and fun. A good eight hours at night...nothing like it. A nice nap in the middle of the day, a gift. But when we're little, we're either convinced we're going to miss something or we're so busy trying to do everything all at once that we can't imagine giving up even 20 minutes in order to shut our eyes and relax. Okay, some of us still have the problem as adults, but let's focus on the kids, shall we? As kids, we don't realize that when we "finally" don't have to take a nap anymore, it will be the end of a delicious era during which we were ENCOURAGED to do NOTHING. This will never come again and later in life when we are rushing from kids to work to kids to spouse to kids to errands to...we will miss those days and wonder why we couldn't appreciate the down time when we had it. We also don't realize when we're young that it is only because we have the ability to recover that we are able to pull all-nighters. Pulling an all-nighter in college makes you feel like a rockstar only because you can sleep in until 3pm the following day. When you are a working adult or, even more significantly, a parent, pulling an all-nighter is no longer awesome; it is a misery. It is a misery because a) much of the time you're not doing so by choice (enter screaming 10 month old) and b) There is no recovery time. Either you are rushing off to work the next morning or you are being woken at 7am (or 6am or 5am...) by a baby who doesn't get the meaning of "sleeping in". This summer, when Kayla was about four months old, I got called "old" for refusing to stay up til 3am playing beer pong. And I get it. Yes, we became parents and yes, that made us less likely to stay up drinking ourselves silly til all hours of the morning. Allow me to explain...Kayla has no concept of sleeping in nor does she understand "Mommy and Daddy are hungover, so you're going to need to quietly entertain yourself for a few hours this morning, okay?" All she understands is that she is still hungry in the middle of the night and she is still wide awake come 0630 and so "HELLO!!!!!! Attend to me." For any parent who has ever done it, tending to an infant while hungover...AGONY, no? Yes.
Laziness. Listen, I know that is easy for me to say this as my baby is ridiculously active and physically is tending to develop ahead of the curve. Were my baby to be behind in hitting her developmental milestones, I might not feel this way. But as this is my blog, I'm going to address how I feel. So, laziness. Listen up babies, this is the only time in your life where laziness will be a valued trait. This will be the only time in your life when someone will breathe a sigh of relief as you allow them to spoon food into your mouth, allow them to carry you for block after block in a big fluffy sling that they are wearing across their chest, allow them to tuck you into your bed for a mid-afternoon nap...Later in life, wanting to be spoon fed will undoubtedly be frowned upon, so, my dears, take advantage now while it lasts! Your parents, cruel as they seem, strapping you into the baby carrier when you could clearly crawl down the sidewalk yourself, would gladly trade places with you for a day. In fact, every time I go into the coffee shop, Kayla all snuggled down in her stroller-o-fluff, the barista says "God, isn't that the life?" And the answer is yes, yes it is. Of course, Kayla doesn't think so. She can't figure out why I won't let her crawl down the road, hands splashing in puddles of car-created muck, tongue lapping out at every stray piece of somethin'...she doesn't get why I insist on holding her or, at the least, snapping her up whenever she spies a discarded pigeon feather and decides that she simply has to know what that tastes like. And she should know that I am far more lenient than most moms I know. My friends gasp when I let Kayla crawl across the playground. "Oh my God, how can you stand it? It's got to be flithy!" Listen...it's either give the kid a chance to explore or stand with her desperately clawing at the air next to us, looking more and more perturbed, getting more and more whiny and getting closer and closer to launching herself out of my arms toward a death-defying five-foot freefall, so...
Plus, I sympathize with her. I get why it is frustrating not to be able to do whatever you want whenever you want. I feel the same way sometimes when I am cooking her third meal of the day and hear people headed to the bars. I want to run to the window, claw at the glass, beg someone to come and save me, but we can't always do what we want to do and so, I get Kayla's need for occasional escape and I choose to honor her desire for independence. After all, she would hardly be my daughter if she didn't think she could do everything herself.
But truly, Kayla, baby, I say this with all of the love, wisdom and understanding a mother can offer, quit rushing forward wanting to be bigger, older, more capable, more independent. You will have plenty of time later in life to be all of those things. What you are right now is so special and so fleeting. You won't remember it. How could you? But oh, if you could, you would look back on these days later in life and think "Wow...that was the best." Because it is. Some day you might not feel that you learn something new every day (I hope that you do). Some day you might not hold everyone around you constantly rapt, waiting to see what amazing thing you might do next (though you'll always hold me). Some day someone is going to tell you to get up and walk, to stop being lazy...some day...but not too soon. I won't let any of those things happen too soon, because you are my baby and I want to keep you that way for as long as I possibly can.
Though I'm willing to move on past the not sleeping through the night and the needing a diaper phases. I think those are a little overrated.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
100.3
Kayla has a fever. Not a big fever. It's only 100.3, but a fever nonetheless. It's her first one and though we've had her be sick before with colds, flu, etc., watching her with the fever is no fun. She had a terrible night last night, was awake from 3-5 and then slept fitfully until 700, but only after I finally gave in and crawled into bed with her. Well, okay, really I brought her into bed with me. Crawling into her crib would have been an experience, one I was tempted to try after having her sleeping self kick my in the ribs for an hour straight, but without looking up weight limits...seemed risky. Anyhow, so she had a rough night and then was simply off all day. She fussed and didn't really want to play...she couldn't seem to find anything that made her happy and we couldn't find anything to soothe her either and so most of the day was spent either taking family naps or cuddling the little one while walking in circles around the house. It must be so frustrating. I know how crappy I feel with a fever - aches, chills, hot flashes...and to be that little, have no idea what's going on, to be unable to tell anyone how you're feeling...poor little baby. And poor mommy and daddy who have gotten very little sleep these last couple nights and who are preparing themselves for another long night tonight. We're not sure if she's coming down with something or if this is more teething. She's pretty much fine other than the fever - no sniffles, no coughing. But then, for all we know, her throat is a fiery mess and she hasn't found a way to let us know. How nice will it be when she learns how to speak? How nice will it be for her and us when she can look up and say "Mommy, my head hurts"? I'm sure there will be plenty of downsides to speech acquisition - "no" for instance - but the pluses will certainly outweigh the minuses. At least until she's thirteen. At that point, we might ask God to take her speech back.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Go Suck a Prune
You've seen that commercial for the new Jennifer Aniston movie? The one where she is lying on a beach chair watching a model-esque blond in a bikini exit the water and the 300-pound woman next to her turns to her and says "It's girls like that that make you and me not want to put on a swimsuit." You've seen the way Aniston then looks both amused and appalled? Well, that was exactly the same way I looked yesterday when a very similar thing happened to me.
Kayla and I were standing in line at the grocery store waiting to check out. On both sides of us were racks of tabloids talking about the newest celebrity pregnancies. The woman in front of me turned to me and said "What is with all of these models getting pregnant?" "I don't know," I replied "Guess it's something in the water." "Maybe," she said "but, you would think that models would be more worried about what was going to happen to their bodies. I mean for normal girls like you and me, who cares? I mean, we're not exactly working with perfection. But for models...yikes."
...
Thank you?
This woman was, I kid you not, about 85 years old (good thing for her, because it meant I couldn't beat her down), 4'4" and probably 200lbs. "Girls like you and me." Sheesh, lady. Project much? Do you need your eyes examined? I ain't saying I'm perfect, but you're seeing a mirror image? Give me a break.
So, fighting down the urge to let my vanity get the better of me, I simply say, "Well, maybe they decided the pluses of having a child outweigh the risks." At this point, Grandma looks down at my baby, then back up at me, then down at the baby and says "Could have fooled me."
...excuse me? Oh no you didn't. You did not mess with the baby. You did not question the worth of the adorable smiling little bundle of cuddly mush for whom I live.
Lady, you are single-handedly responsible for my faith in humanity getting shredded just a little bit further...or at least my faith in women and their ability to age gracefully. I am truly sorry that this woman either had some seriously worthless children (can't imagine where they get it from...) or that she never had kids and doesn't know the sheer joy that they can bring, but either way, could ya leave me and my giggling baby out of it? We were just standing here...minding our own business...feeling pretty darned good about the day...and now you've managed to trash both my body and her sweetness all in one fell swoop. You are clearly a Bad fairy. An old, round, bad fairy. That's right. I said it. You would too had she said it to you. Bad old fairy. Go suck on a prune.
Kayla and I were standing in line at the grocery store waiting to check out. On both sides of us were racks of tabloids talking about the newest celebrity pregnancies. The woman in front of me turned to me and said "What is with all of these models getting pregnant?" "I don't know," I replied "Guess it's something in the water." "Maybe," she said "but, you would think that models would be more worried about what was going to happen to their bodies. I mean for normal girls like you and me, who cares? I mean, we're not exactly working with perfection. But for models...yikes."
...
Thank you?
This woman was, I kid you not, about 85 years old (good thing for her, because it meant I couldn't beat her down), 4'4" and probably 200lbs. "Girls like you and me." Sheesh, lady. Project much? Do you need your eyes examined? I ain't saying I'm perfect, but you're seeing a mirror image? Give me a break.
So, fighting down the urge to let my vanity get the better of me, I simply say, "Well, maybe they decided the pluses of having a child outweigh the risks." At this point, Grandma looks down at my baby, then back up at me, then down at the baby and says "Could have fooled me."
...excuse me? Oh no you didn't. You did not mess with the baby. You did not question the worth of the adorable smiling little bundle of cuddly mush for whom I live.
Lady, you are single-handedly responsible for my faith in humanity getting shredded just a little bit further...or at least my faith in women and their ability to age gracefully. I am truly sorry that this woman either had some seriously worthless children (can't imagine where they get it from...) or that she never had kids and doesn't know the sheer joy that they can bring, but either way, could ya leave me and my giggling baby out of it? We were just standing here...minding our own business...feeling pretty darned good about the day...and now you've managed to trash both my body and her sweetness all in one fell swoop. You are clearly a Bad fairy. An old, round, bad fairy. That's right. I said it. You would too had she said it to you. Bad old fairy. Go suck on a prune.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Mmm Mmm Good
This morning I fed my daughter Crisco for breakfast. Yes, Crisco. C.R.I.S.C.O. The lard-like "all-vegetable shortening" nastiness that you use to grease cooking sheets. Mmhmm.
We sat at the table and I spread a little on a couple small chunks of toast and watched her go to town. Then I licked a little stray cream cheese off my finger and thought, "Hmm...this cream cheese has no taste. What brand is this?" I turned over the foil it was wrapped in, "Crisco. Crisco? Crisco makes cream cheese or this is actually....oh crap!"
Dear Kayla,
I am sorry that your first taste of cream cheese was actually a taste of something that is not meant to be ingested as a food item. I know you thought it was tasty enough and wolfed it down like it was chocolate buttercream frosting, but still. Some day when you know what Crisco really is, please know that I did not intentionally feed it to you, I was merely delirious from a night of little sleep (See? It's really your own fault.) and oops...
Seriously, Crisco. And I was having guilt over giving her some restaurant prepared cheese quesadilla the day before due to its potentially high salt content. Ha! At least I realized my Crisco mistake only a few bites in. Can you imagine if she'd had an entire piece of toast covered in that? Her insides would have been a veritable oil slick and, well, I guess Daddy and I would have been the ones to pay the price. "Look out! Thar she blows!" And we thought what we'd been dealing with was nasty...
welcome to the world of heavily greased baby intestines. Mmmm.
On the plus side, I guess we now know that she's not allergic to soy bean or palm oil. Which was a major concern...because we'd been giving her a lot of those two things...and of course, it's good to know that if we're ever stranded on a desert island and the only thing that washes ashore with us is Crisco, well, we might just make it.
We sat at the table and I spread a little on a couple small chunks of toast and watched her go to town. Then I licked a little stray cream cheese off my finger and thought, "Hmm...this cream cheese has no taste. What brand is this?" I turned over the foil it was wrapped in, "Crisco. Crisco? Crisco makes cream cheese or this is actually....oh crap!"
Dear Kayla,
I am sorry that your first taste of cream cheese was actually a taste of something that is not meant to be ingested as a food item. I know you thought it was tasty enough and wolfed it down like it was chocolate buttercream frosting, but still. Some day when you know what Crisco really is, please know that I did not intentionally feed it to you, I was merely delirious from a night of little sleep (See? It's really your own fault.) and oops...
Seriously, Crisco. And I was having guilt over giving her some restaurant prepared cheese quesadilla the day before due to its potentially high salt content. Ha! At least I realized my Crisco mistake only a few bites in. Can you imagine if she'd had an entire piece of toast covered in that? Her insides would have been a veritable oil slick and, well, I guess Daddy and I would have been the ones to pay the price. "Look out! Thar she blows!" And we thought what we'd been dealing with was nasty...
welcome to the world of heavily greased baby intestines. Mmmm.
On the plus side, I guess we now know that she's not allergic to soy bean or palm oil. Which was a major concern...because we'd been giving her a lot of those two things...and of course, it's good to know that if we're ever stranded on a desert island and the only thing that washes ashore with us is Crisco, well, we might just make it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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