What I Tell Myself

Almost every day I think, "Maybe you're not patient enough/too selfish/not strong enough to be a parent."  And then I get over it.  You have to.  It helps that I have this staring me in the face.

He is beautiful.  He is funny and loving and busy and willful and smart and curious and I have no idea what the hell I did with myself before we were blessed with him.  Parenthood is not for wimps.  Maybe I am impatient and selfish and weak, but I'm the only mom he's going to get, so I am going to make damn sure I do my best for him. 

Only This Moment

When I take my breaks to pump milk for my son at work, I'm reading Momfulness: Mothering with Mindfulness, Compassion and Grace by Denise Roy.  (Any opportunity to read!)  I've just started it and so far I'm not rushing it, unlike my normal breakneck gobbling reading pace.  It's lovely - centering, quiet, wise.  I need a centering voice in my head these days.  I'm all over the place all the time, a million pieces of me scattered here and there.  Parts of me at work, parts of me with my husband, whom I feel like I rarely see, parts of me playing on the floor with my son.  An endless calendar and to-do list in my head, nagging me about my yard full of weeds, my unmopped floor, the cobwebs multiplying on the ceiling, the grocery list, the laundry, the friends I haven't called or seen in weeks.  One of our cars needs major repairs, more than the car is worth, so we're in the hunt for a new one - an exciting prospect but tiring as well.

It never ends.  Life doesn't stop.  Things just keep piling up, and this is how it has always been, but with an eight month old, it feels like a very heavy load.  Sometimes I feel completely overwhelmed.

Enter Momfulness.  Today I read a passage on Presence, reminding me to be in the moment.  It contains a short meditation you can do anywhere at any time, short enough to memorize or post on a small card somewhere in sight.  It's a meditation from Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh:

Breathing in, I calm my body.

Breathing out, I smile.

Dwelling in the present moment

I know that this is a wonderful moment.

I sat there in the storage room, breast pump whirring away, and closed my eyes.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  This is the only moment.  I am making milk to feed my son.  I am lucky to have a place and time to do this at work.  So many women do not have a supportive pro-breastfeeding workplaces. I am lucky to have a job.  I am lucky to have this good quality pump.  I am lucky to have a son.

Roy says that not every moment is a wonderful moment, but it's the only moment.  You can switch out the words if you need to.  But in this moment of quiet and relative solitude, there is much wonder.

It's Me Again!

I'm sorry I haven't been posting anything lately - I apologize to my three devoted readers.  :)  Seriously, I don't know who reads this besides my best friend and some people from Russia whom I suspect are some sort of spammers anyway.  But that's okay, I don't really do it for others - I don't think - I mainly do it for myself.  It's a space in which I can be myself, vent, opine, and maybe, just maybe, connect with another soul out there who's going through something similar.  Instead of posting I've been fiddling with the design and text colors.  I was bored with the "French Windows" or whatever my old design template was called.  Now it's appropriately named "Book Club!"

I almost posted a political rant last week after my blood got to boiling over something one of the candidates said.  And then I thought, why put that negativity out there into the universe?  Isn't there already enough negative energy in our society, especially in the political arena?  I held back.  And vented to my husband instead, who capably fulfilled the role of listener for me.

Speaking of my husband, have I told you lately how wonderful he is?  He is the best dad.  Affectionate, playful, caring, funny - all the qualities that made me fall in love with him have just blossomed beyond limits towards our son.  J.'s first word, not surprisingly, is "Dada."  He only says something like "mama" when he's crying!  They are big buddies, which I hope lasts forever. 
 

I need a personal shopper.

I took the day off today - a good decision.  I need a random day off every now and then to spend time with my boy(s.)  I was all set to go shopping this morning - E. was watching the baby and I wanted to get a few things for him and for me. 

I went to Babies R Us first.  I bought some plastic bibs, a finger brush to clean baby's emerging teeth, and a portable place mat for when we go out and about.  I intended to look at umbrella strollers.  I had no idea that was to be my undoing!  I got all "floopy" - my word for overwhelmed and stressed - doubting whether we really needed one right now, wondering if this was too much to pay for one, etc. etc.  Then I pondered buying a giant box of diapers, trying to calculate prices versus the smaller sized box we usually buy at Target, and I became floopier. 

There were, of course, babies in the store, and I just missed my little guy.  I waited in line for ten minutes to check out, because as usual, there was only one register open.  That store is overpriced, understaffed, and overwhelming!  I finally got the hell out of there... and decided that I didn't have it in me to go on to Kohl's and shop for clothes for me.  Since I've had the baby I don't know how to shop for myself anymore!  Opportunities to go out by myself are rare, what with our work schedules, and I suppose when I do get the chance there's all this pressure to make the most of the time out.  I really need some new clothes, but I have no idea what to get.  It's easier to wear old jeans and t-shirts all the time. 

Anyway, first-world problems, right?  Despite my mishaps, it was a great day.  Such happiness in being at home with E. and J.  My baby boy will be seven months old tomorrow!  How is that possible?  

Greener Grass

A stay-at-home mom of two boys under the age of 5 told me today, "This (working in a library) is my dream job - so quiet and orderly."  Well, for the most part it is that.  But it got me thinking about how I sometimes envy the stay-at-home moms who come in frequently with their small children, and how the grass is always greener on the other side.  I know from my all-too-brief fifteen weeks of maternity leave with Baby J that  staying at home can be lonely, boring, and maddening.  I don't know if I really could be a stay-at-home mom, even if our money situation allowed for it.  In my perfect dream world, I would work part-time (say 20 hours a week) and still retain our family's health benefits.  But that's unlikely to happen.

Some days it kills me to leave home in the morning.  Baby J is all smiles and funny shrieks, rested and fed and happy to play in his jumper or on the floor.  My husband, wonderful father and spouse that he is, stays home with him for most of the day and then goes in to work around 4 or 5.  He has a loooong day.  I do too, in that I assume baby duties when I get home and all night long, should J wake up in the middle of the night.  We are making it work with the help of our mothers and fathers and my aunt.  It really DOES take a village, if you want to keep your baby out of daycare.  When J is a bit older, say about 18 months, we'll reevaluate the situation. 

Sometimes I'm irrationally angry that I can't stay home, and sometimes I feel so grateful to have a job that provides for our family and that I enjoy - just like the mom who came in today must sometimes love to be at home and sometimes wish for adult conversation.  There is no perfect solution, there is no perfect life.  There is only my imperfect, beautiful, crazy, untidy, blissful life, and all the blessings therein.

Remember This Always

I will never tire of the way Baby J. will periodically stop nursing and look up at me intently, as if memorizing my face.  There is a searching quality to his gaze, like he's trying to figure me out.  (Good luck, kid!)  It is priceless and sweet and makes me tear up with happiness.  There is absolutely nothing like this kid.  I am so in love with him.

I will also never tire of this face (my good friend and rabid Philadelphia sports fan Jon sent him this bib:)

Or this one:

He is my heart.

Apparently he is also always in his jumper.  I do let him out occasionally. 

Dear Baby

You're six months old and one day today.

You're doing this cute thing with your tongue now - sticking it out and blowing air, making a funny little sound.  I love it.

Your feet touch the ground now when you're in your jumper.  We used a thick dictionary under your feet at first, but now you don't need it.

You were diagnosed with an ear infection today, your first.  The doctor said it's early, thank goodness.  Maybe that's why you haven't wanted Dada to rock you to sleep the past few days like you normally would.

You've started playing with your diaper during diaper changes now.  You undid one side this afternoon.  So helpful!

You got quite a few new toys for Christmas, but you're still growing into them.  I can tell it frustrates you somewhat that you can't move the car like you'd like to.  Once you can sit up better on your own you will enjoy them so much more! 

You weighed 16.9 pounds at the doctor today.

You love bath time.  You love the bath time song I made up ("We're gonna take a bath, take a bath bath bath.  We're gonna take a bath bath bath."  It's cute.  Trust me.)  Bath time is still in your blue tub that I sit in the kitchen sink.  It will be bittersweet when we move to the actual bathtub!  (And OMG I'm going to have to clean it before then!)

You are the love of my life.  Along with your Dada, of course.  I never knew my heart could hold so much.

love, Mama

Baby Tornado

Hi! I'm here, once again. Baby J. is also here, born July 1, 2011 at 4:17 am after a long induced labor due to my gestational diabetes. He's healthy, I'm healthy, and we are blessed with this precious, sweet boy.

Our life is so different now. I was right, I had NO idea how my life was about to change. It's a completely new life we're living. I'm not an idiot, I should have been more prepared for this, but I truly don't think one CAN prepare for all the changes. No sleep (about 3-5 nonconsecutive hrs per night for me.) LOTS of diapers. Sore nipples. Watching a LOT of tv. No reading (I've read about 50 pages of my book since he's been born.) Trying to nap when the baby naps (good advice but not always easy to do!) At least one load of laundry per day.

Initially the hardest thing for me to wrap my mind around was my new identity as Mom. I had simply been Laila for 34 years, the woman who reads, works out, goes to work at the library, goes out with friends to the Farmers Market and Tomato Head whenever she wanted to, had all damn day with which to do whatever she wanted. Now I am Laila, the Mom of J. And my priority is this little innocent guy who needs us to take care of him. He comes first. If he's crying, I put down my lunch, I delay my shower, I get off the phone. It's a challenge to be thrust into that mindset suddenly when they let you out of the hospital to be on your own with this tiny life.

I know it won't always be this way. I know one day I'll have more time for myself and for my relationship with the hubby. I see moms of elementary school kids at the library and they seem more together than moms of babies or toddlers, so I know that things get more settled as your children grow up. I'm really trying to enjoy this time, when he's so small and needs me so much. I love when he looks at me with those big eyes when he's feeding, and his tiny hands grasp my fingers as I'm holding his head. I love when he curls up into the crook of my shoulder after a feeding, and he's all passed out asleep, so content. I love his little grunts and snores when he's sleeping. I love his quiet alert time when he wakes up in the morning. I love laying him down on his activity mat and talking to him about the animal toys on the bar above him.

I can't wait to teach him about the world. This job is among the most important, shaping and guiding a life. I hope to endeavor to deserve it.

So here's the thing...

A friend of mine says that all the time, and it's one of my favorite things about her. I find it's a good way to begin a post.

The thing is, lately I've been feeling stressed. And feeling stressed during my pregnancy makes me even more stressed, because then I worry about what the stress is doing to my baby. A borderline high glucose test, my husband's new job and variable schedule, trying to get the baby's room ready, trying to figure out what to register for, trying to keep the house clean... all these things press upon me. And I know it's all normal, just part of it, the anxiety, the unsettled feeling. So far this pregnancy has been a great teacher! I am learning just how much I crave order and a sense of control. I'm learning how rigid I can be, stuck in my cozy routine just like the typical bullish Taurus that I am.

I want to be able to do everything and do it well. I want to have a clean, orderly home, a sweet, pretty, organized room for the baby, time for relaxing, time for my husband, time for my friends, time for my family, time to walk, time to shop well and eat right, time to sleep. I feel like I should make a keepsake scrapbook of my pregnancy, and the fact that I haven't begun makes me feel bad. Then there are all the baby books I've got lined up on my bookshelf - one about newborns, one about breastfeeding, one about labor, a few about everything. They reproach me when I look at them, since I've yet to finish any or begin some at all.

I gotta turn those books in. I need to give myself a break. This baby doesn't care if he has a scrapbook, or if his mom has an organized closet. He just needs me to love him, feed him, keep him safe and dry. I can do that. I can't wait to do that. I can't wait to meet him, nurture him, watch him develop into a person. He's already changing me, making me better, shaking up my routines and my world view. I can't do everything. How did I ever think that I could? Or that I should have to?

Boy Books

We're having a boy! At least that's what the ultrasound tech told us, and I have to trust her experience, because I wasn't at all sure what I was looking at! :) It's terribly surprising and exciting - it's a whole new world. I know all about girl stuff (I was a very girly girl), but as an only child, I know NOTHING about boy stuff! And it occurred to me this afternoon, as I was shelving juvenile fiction, that I'll have to start reading some BOY BOOKS. A lifetime of reading Nancy Drew, Little Women, Anastasia Krupnick, and Sweet Valley High has ill prepared me for getting a little boy excited about reading! At least there's always Harry Potter. Thankfully, I have some time before Little Man is ready for the J-Shelves. We'll do some board books first, and they're pretty gender neutral.

Craving oranges, enjoying everything.

I'm back. I've missed this cute little blog o' mine. Not enough to actually write something, apparently, but I'm here now.

Things are happening in my life, and I finally feel at liberty to start talking about them. I'm expecting a child in early July. Sixteen weeks into this crazy process I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can talk about it and write about it at will, and everything will be okay. Guess I've inherited my mother's superstitious nature after all - or maybe I'm just a worry-wart. But I also know that things will be what they will, no matter what I tell the world. And that is my father's Persian fatalism coming out in me.

One of the absolute best things so far about being pregnant is that for the first time in my life, I don't give a damn about reading the omnipresent articles in women's magazines about losing weight. I don't care a lick about the segments on the morning shows about diet and exercise. I am eating intuitively for the first time that I can recall. I actually like it when the scale inches up a pound. I am caring for and nurturing a future human being inside of me - I am growing a person! It's so profoundly amazing. I know it happens all the time, all over the world, and has for millions of years. But this is MY experience, my body, my future child. It is intensely consuming, fascinating, absorbing. It's all I can do to direct my attention elsewhere.

I hope that after the baby arrives I can cling to this feeling of caring for my body, treating myself kindly, forgiving what society says are its "flaws." I want to set a good example for my child, so that they might know what it means to value health over a number on the scale or a pants size. That they might eat some pizza or a doughnut without self-flagellation. They they can arm themselves against messages from corporations and media outlets trying to sell them self-hate.