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‘MA!’ means come get me now woman

Our son’s crib is in our room. Not just because I want him close so I don’t have to stumble through the house when he cries, but out of necessity. We live in a one bedroom place, so he’s either in our room or the middle of the living room. Not a lot of choices.

We arranged things to where he’s on my side of the bed, at a slight angle. Our bedroom is a jungle of furniture: bed, dressers, desk, sidetable, baby bed. Yeah, it’s a lot of stuff. I have a nightstand next to me, and his crib is on the other side.

Did I mention the kid can now stand up and reach outside of the crib? And that the nearest thing is my nightstand? Did I also mention said nightstand is now CLEAR? Um, yeah.

This morning, he stood in his crib, looking around, babbling, and waiting for his dear, precious mother to WAKE THE HECK UP ALREADY. He’ll usually entertain himself for a bit before he decides he needs a new diaper.

And today, he woke me up by yelling at me. Ma! Momomom. Ma! I rolled over and looked at him and was greeted with a most adorable and huge grin. How could I resist that? The crying? Eh, roll over and go back to sleep. But “ma” and a smile? Up in an instant.

He is crawling so fast now. Zips everywhere. We have a couple of laundry baskets as barriers between the living room and kitchen and barring the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. He can’t move them YET, but he can stand up and hold on to them, which he loves to do. And he can finally sit back down from standing, which results in a lot less crying and frustration. From both of us. Also, he can move sideways while holding on to things. The coffee table, the couch, the rocking chair. It’s all so fast.

And last night? He got off of the couch. BY HIMSELF.

He was sitting with daddy, decided he wanted down, turned around, and put his legs off of the couch. We watched as he slowly lowered himself down. We cheered him a bit and then he took off. Wow.

Tomorrow is his first birthday. Last year at this time, well, it’s a blur. I was at the hospital, in labor. I had pitocin, and I believe they’d already put in the epidural as well. I don’t even remember when my water broke, but I know I was lying in bed and felt it happen. Did I mention I went to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving, in the morning, to get monitored and THEY KEPT ME? And I didn’t get to leave until almost a week later.

I guess I never really told the whole birth story. I may just have to do that in honor of the kiddo’s first year here. And it will be told often, because mommy didn’t get to have Thanksgiving (actually, I didn’t get to eat for almost 30 hours and I was begging for some food) thanks to a certain little rug rat.

So, maybe some more tomorrow, after we go to Balboa Park. I think we’ll forgo chocolate cake for some brownies or something like that. Haven’t decided yet. No party, just hanging with the boys. I can’t wait.

we have liftoff

Yesterday marked the beginning of the kiddo pulling himself into a standing position. Before, it was just to the knees. Now it’s standing and wobbling. A lot of wobbling.

It’s funny, actually. He’ll crawl over to the couch, end table, or even his playpen, and pull himself up. And he’ll stand there for a bit, babbling and looking for things to grab or knock over.

But today. Today the shrieking started. He gets in that upright position and then has absolutely no idea what to do. He wants out of it, you can tell. Yet he doesn’t want to fall on his bum (even though he has, and it was fine). A couple of times I have pulled him away to sit him down on the floor. It isn’t terribly long before he’s in the same position. That’s okay. I know he’s learning to balance better. Another time I tried to get him to move sideways while holding on, so he could scoot over to me. He mostly just lifted his feet and put them down again. But once I grabbed his hands, he walked/wobbled his way over to me. more…

Eleven months – already?

Dear Boobah,

Here we are at 11 months, just as mama turns 35. She really wanted to have a baby before 35, and we just made it. For whatever reason, this is a harder birthday for mama, much harder than 25 or 30. She thinks it feels too close to 40, and her time for making a decision about your siblings is quickly running out. She’s not sure how she feels about that. She and daddy are talking, but having you was pretty rough on mama’s health and daddy’s not sure he wants mama to risk her health again.

Don’t worry, baby, you were totally worth it and mama wouldn’t change a thing. Except the gestational diabetes. She would’ve preferred not to deal with that part. But she did, for you.

And here you are, so close to a year old. Mama can’t believe how quickly we got here. You are growing and developing like crazy. Lots of babbling, although no real discernable words. You say ‘dada’ ‘guhguh’ ‘mama’ and even something that sounds like ‘woah’ – but none of them have any meaning that we can tell. You’re still working on adding a variety of sounds. That’s okay – your speech is developing and it’s possible that mama just isn’t realizing that you associate those sounds or words with people or objects.

In the meantime, you’re crawling all over and getting faster by the day. You can pull yourself up onto your knees, and can stand when we prop you up and let you hold onto a table, your playpen, the couch, or our legs. You climb all over us when we hold you, and are rarely still. more…

My heart

Things to comeThe first time I saw that faint fluttering on the screen, my heart left my chest and settled in my uterus. It stayed there a whole nine months before it made its way outside my body. And now I see it, here, in front of me.

I watch your precious face as you sleep and I realize why parents say your children are your heart walking around outside of your body. I understand it now. I thought I did before. I “knew” what it meant to love a child, my future child. That is, until they placed you on my chest. And then, I really knew.

My heart is so much bigger than I ever thought it could be. It wraps around you, your sister, your father. The further away any of you are, the further it stretches. I understand 1 Corinthians, where it says “love is patient, love is kind.” I get it. You made me realize all of these things, and so much more.

You gave me a gift that I couldn’t fathom until now. I knew I always wanted you, and while I couldn’t imagine my life with you before, I now can’t consider it without you.

I love you, little one. Always.

Love,
Mama

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baby, i’m amazed by you

Me and the Boobah My son is discovering his hands and it’s a fascinating experience. He gazes at them, turning them around, wiggling his fingers. You can almost see his mind working. “Wow, these are so cool! I didn’t know they’d do that. I wonder if they’ll fit in my mouth?” Everything that gets close to his face gets pushed towards his mouth. He doesn’t hit it every time, but he’s getting there.

His movements are getting better, although they are still a bit jerky. He waves his arms and manages to hit himself in the noggin half the time.

But his new favorite thing is the best part. He loves it. It’s bouncing. When he pushes against me with his feet, I use the momentum to lift him. Over and over. And over. He thinks it’s great and grins like crazy. I must get it on tape for his grandparents. It’s the cutest thing.

Everyone who sees this kid just has to stop and talk to him (you know, when he’s awake). His smile is infectious and they stop to smile back at him. It’s fun to watch because he’ll smile at anyone. And his little personality is starting to shine through.

I am so amazed every day by this kid.

My favorite time of the day is the early morning, after he eats. We lie in bed, snuggling. Sometimes he naps, other times he’s quite chatty. I can’t put into works how lovely it is to lie there, sniffing his head, touching his face, looking into those beautiful eyes. It’s a balm to my soul like no other.

I think I’ll keep him. No, I’m sure of it.

Month four: letter to our son

My dearest son:

As I told you before, I probably won’t be consistent at this newsletter thing. I’m too busy spending time with you, drinking in your eyes, mouth, fingers, and toes. I can’t get enough of your sweet smile, your dimples, and your giggles.

little hands will build big things one day

This weekend, we heard you laugh in your sleep. It was one of the most precious things we’ve heard. Ever. And I heard it again last night. I’m still mopping up the puddle of goo from my side of the bed, where I melted.

You are a snuggle bug. When I take a nap with you, you plaster yourself next to me. When I put my hand on you, you stroke my arm. But when your feet are pointed my way, watch out. You love to kick. You grin madly, flail your arms, and kick with abandon. You look like a little running man, but with no traction. It’s seriously cute. And you think it’s hilarious. So we let you kick us. Daddy and I both know we’ll regret that later.

Through your eyes

I’m a little scared of your poop right now. I’m poop shy. You tend to fill your diaper up after eating, which is pretty typical. But last Saturday, after you pooped, I opened your diaper to change it. You started to pee a little as I wiped up the mess, so I covered you back up, getting poop all over you again the process. And then I heard a dreaded rumbling, and you started pooping again. At that point, I could only pray that you didn’t have gas, too. You finished, and I got ready to wipe again. You started pooping again. At that point, I got a little nervous that you’d start kicking and either get your foot in the mess or move the diaper and release a poop avalanche. I held onto your feet for dear life and you pooped yet again. At that point, I’m just praying the sides of the diaper catch everything, as I was changing you on our bed. On my side, no less. I must have used 15 wipes to clean everything up. I prayed the whole time: please don’t poop again, please don’t fart, please don’t poop any more! I’m still traumatized from it. When I hear you poop now, I cringe. Will the diaper hold? Who knew one little baby could produce so much poop all at once?

But I’ll manage anyway, because that’s what mommies do.

Time is picking up speed, and the days with you are starting to pass much faster than I would like. Right now we’re your favorite people in the whole world. You wake up with a smile for us. You grin when Daddy gets home from work and says hello to his boy.

typical guy - already hogs the remote

I knew I would love you. I always have. But I didn’t know what an absolute joy you would be. I can’t get enough of you. I could stay home all day and do nothing but entertain myself with you, go for walks, play peek-a-boo. It just doesn’t get old. I hope it continues for as long as possible, this inability to get enough of you. I live for that smile, those snuggles, these giggles. I imprint them with indelible ink on my memory.

Love,
Mama

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our little man

I just weighed the boy today. You know, it’s really scientific. I step on the scale, look at the numbers, then step off. Then I grab the boy and step back on. See? Totally accurate and scientific. The weight difference this time? Guess. Go on. I’ll wait. Do you have a number in mind? You do? Was it twenty? Yes, my not-quite four month old weighs 20 pounds. No wonder my back hurts. This weekend, we were in Long Beach at the convention center. I saw a woman walking along with her tiny baby in her Bjorn. We chatted and I asked her how old. Nine months, y’all. NINE months. My kid dwarfed him. Lawsy, this is gonna be a big boy.

We’re getting close to some milestones. He doesn’t quite reach and grab things with his hands, but he will draw things in with his hands/ arms when they get close enough. And, of course, take them straight to his mouth. Heh. He’s babbling a lot now. And getting louder. The last 3 days he has squawked a lot more than before. I recorded some of it. I suppose I could upload it so you can hear (let me know if you want me to). It’s pretty cute. At least, I think so. Sending a copy to mom and dad.

He sits up with help. We have to prop him a bit, but he loves sitting in the crook of our arms while in the bed. And the drool. Oh lord, the drool. I think he’ll be teething fairly soon.

But he is such a joy to be around. Really mellow. He does cry when he needs something, or when he’s fighting sleep. Yet I know how much worse it could be. Even when he’s grouchy, I love being around him.

Just trying to enjoy our time with the wee bugger. Here’s hoping you’re enjoying time with your little buggers, too. Happy Love Thursday.

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Gums, gurgles, and goos

I’m actually getting a fair amount of sleep at night. Oh, I wake up a lot to check on the kid. When he so much as stirs, I’m awake. So my sleep is frequently interrupted. But at least I can go back to sleep fairly quickly. And that makes for MUCH better days, let me tell you.

For now, I’m telecommuting and I do love it. The babe naps while I’m working. And when I’m not working, I get to gaze into those beautiful little eyes and watch as his face lights up with a gummy smile. He’s drooling a lot, which means teeth probably aren’t far off. I’m not looking forward to those feeding times!

I knew my life would change. We all know our lives will change. People keep mentioning how nice it must be to get back to work and into the land of the living. I’d rather be at home, listening to my son practice new sounds and watch him kick so hard it looks like he’s running in place. I have a lot of friends who I can email and chat with online. Their blogs are available. I can follow them on Twitter. I can call them on the phone. Heck, I can even meet them for lunch. But the kid still gets time and attention from me during these things. I can’t do that when I’m in the office.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’d rather be home. I can’t, but I’d rather. It is what it is.

So my days consist of naps, diapers, email, and little gurgling noises coming from the bouncy seat next to my desk. And I like it that way.

Happy Love Thursday y’all. May you find what fills your heart with happiness.

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getting back to work, and not wanting to

Monday I go into work for the first time in three months. It seems like so much longer than that. And yet, not long at all. How long it’s been doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I’m a nervous wreck.

I haven’t been away from our boy (soon to be named, “Tank” because Wee One just DOES NOT apply anymore) since he was born. The longest I’ve left him was a run to the store, which I can see from my bedroom window. And on Monday, I’m expected to be away from him for 4 hours. Not 15 minutes. FOUR hours. And I’m beside myself. I start crying every time I think about it. Why?

Because my exclusive time with him is over and from here it’s just more time away and more separation. There will never be this time again. He’ll start depending on me less and before I know it he’ll grow up and move away. And I’m not ready for any of that.

Going back to work isn’t a big deal. Once I get caught up, I can work from home (for a few months, anyway). We need the insurance. So I’ll do what I have to do, because we need the money and the coverage.

But really, it’s what it symbolizes that rips my heart out. The little guy still needs me. I know this. But it still signals the end of something that I’m not ready to face. I have no choice, and I think that’s what hurts the most.

I really have no choice.

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Week 11 letter to my son

Dear Wee One:

Mama probably won’t write a monthly newsletter like some moms do. It will be more sporadic than that and may or may not include pictures. It doesn’t mean that Mama loves you any less than those other moms love their kids. Mama will just write to you when she feels she has something to say.

In the last 7 weeks, you’ve started to develop a personality. You’re so funny. You smile a lot, a huge, lopsided grin that cracks me up every time. And you’re starting to laugh, too. It’s my favorite sound in the whole world. Sometimes, when you’re eating, you pause and look up at me and grin before going back to eat some more. That’s my favorite part of the day. I want this time to last just a bit longer, this bond we have.

You’ve discovered how to get your hands to your mouth and you’re starting to suck on your fist. Occasionally you get your thumb in your mouth just right. But you still prefer to chew on your whole fist. But you don’t have complete control over your arms and hands. You still flail a lot and smack yourself in the noggin or scratch your face. But it’s getting less frequent.

more…

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