mamaloo

Did/Did Not

My little guy is four months old today---that is, counting from the actual day he EXITED MY BODY. (It took me, oh, around 3 days to birth him. I guess you could say that he had a birth weekend.)

In four short months, he's gone from this:

to this:

Aside: nobody told me that, in addition to "boy" or "girl" it was possible to give birth to an elf. Doesn't he look like a lawn gnome? I'm tellin' ya, some greeting card company is missing out on a million dollars this holiday season because we didn't shop around a photo of him dressed in green and red...but I digress.


Wow, four months. What to say, what to say...

My sister A. was here visiting recently. One of these days (SOON! right, A.?) she's gonna have a little one of her own. Funny, having watched her good friend have a baby and go through the early "baby days," she (my sister) in some ways knew more about it than I do. But you know--there are some things about motherhood that you just can't know until you experience it. Lest that sound haughty, let me clarify that I say this to MYSELF.

I didn't dive into motherhood without expectations. However, looking back now from four months into this, it's enlightening to see what I did and didn't expect.

So, A., this one's for you. Here's my freshly-experienced list of Did/Did Not Expect about birth and motherhood.

Pregnancy and Birth

Did expect: to become rather large when pregnant.
Did not expect: all the stuff that would do to my body. My God! Heartburn? Back pain? Who knew? Yeah, I know. This sounds stupid. Of course your back would hurt. But honestly, I didn't expect it.

Did expect: to dislike getting "fat".
Did not expect: how much I LOVED my pregnant body--especially my belly. Oh, I loved it. LOVED IT. I told E. all the time that I'd miss my belly after Loo was born. He said, "No you won't. He'll be here and you won't even think of it." Well, he's right pretty much. But still, I do miss it a little. Did I mention LOVED IT.

Did expect: pregnancy cravings.
Did not expect: to not have them at all! Frankly I was disappointed.

Did expect: to birth my baby within a reasonable (uh, say, 24 hours?!) time.
Did not expect: my actual experience, which included my water breaking a week before labor began; acupuncture to induce my body to GET GOING ALREADY; 30 + hours of hard labor (shudder: probably 10 or so of pushing); and a C-section to top it off. Which just goes to show, you NEVER KNOW WHAT YOUR BODY WILL DO DURING LABOR. Do yourself a favor, pregnant mamas: don't visualize your birth or expect it to be a certain way. You'll have an easier time of it. Oh well. We did finally get him out of there. BTW, I loved me the anaesthesiologist once we got to the hospital.

Newborn Baby

Did expect: to breastfeed.
Did not expect: what a challenge it was to get started. I thought they grabbed the boobie and ran. Well, maybe some of them do, but it turns out that a great number do not. Get thee to a lactation consultant! Honestly, we would not have gotten it without the one who helped us in the hospital (plus a couple helpful nurses). She was awesome and I now have a 17-18 lb baby to show for it.

Did expect: to be tired, and up during the night, etc.
Did not expect: to be so freaking exhausted at times that I become, literally, someone else whom we do not (and do not wish to) know.

Did expect: E. to be as involved as me in the baby day-to-day.
Did not expect: him to, well, leave me to it while he dove into work. In his defense let me just say that E. is the SWEETEST MAN ALIVE, and from the start we were in this together. We dreamed together, bought baby stuff together, planned together, went through the birth, well, sort of together. Still, once we actually had the baby we found ourselves in these automaton gender roles. I did most of the "baby" stuff while he read tech manuals for his new job. WTF!!? Evidently this is not uncommon. Men can react to fatherhood's added responsibilities by concentrating on work, so that income/financial security is assured. And then on my side, women sometimes don't speak up about what they need. Well, we've worked through this and we're now much more balanced. But boy was I pissed a couple times (see "Did not expect" above).

Young Infant

Did expect: to be limited (in terms of getting out, etc.)
Did not expect: to not be able to GROCERY SHOP, take a shower, do laundry, read. Oh, they told me, but I didn't believe it. Surely they exaggerated. Well, no.

Did expect: to be relatively good at mothering.
Did not expect: to be at my wits' complete end at times. In my own defense, it truly does take a lot to send me to the end of my wits. You know what though? A good deal of the difficulty came from my expectations, which were either just ignorance, or gained from reading various books. Don't get me wrong; I've gotten a LOT of very helpful and workable information from all my reading. But I've also gotten sort of set up to fail. Reading various baby theories/methodologies can lull you into thinking that it won't be that hard. Well, it is. But you know what? That's OK!! I've realized that just about everything is rather normal (barring full-body rashes and hellacious fevers and the like). I wish one of these books would begin with a chapter entitled "DON'T WORRY. AND GET SOME PROPER REST, WHY DON'T YOU." Likewise, I wish someone wise had sat me down, looked me in the eye and said, "MamaLoo? Don't worry. Babies do not adhere to your methods all the time; they will change on you, and you will think it's you, and that you're failing. You are not. I repeat: Don't worry. And go get your nails done for Pete's sake." But then again, I probably wouldn't have believed them. Hindsight and all that.

Did expect: to be stressed a times.
Did not expect: to experience a level of stress exceeding anything I've had to deal with in years. Really. Apologies to all parents who warned me and whom I didn't believe. It is demanding and monotonous and self-effacing to be a stay-at-home mother with a small infant. I am sometimes crazed with boredom. But our baby is thriving. It's worth it.

Did expect: to love being a mom.
Did not expect: to need breaks from it so badly. I have a lot of endurance, and I wanted this baby with all my being. So, of course I shall love him always, and I will not need to get away much. Right? Wrong. I need time away from my baby to love him properly, because I need to be my proper self for him. This includes time to just wander the mall or whatever without him. I honestly didn't know I would need this.

Well, I think that's good. I'll leave you with this colorful picture of my lovabaLoo, loving him a walk in his stroller with his Mama who forced her reticent stay-at-home self out of the house for his sake.

Best Laid Plans

What UP with the seeming universal rule that, when a parent of a small child, NOTHING can go as planned???

I repeat: Universe! What UP with that?

I'm not a control freak--no, I'm not! I don't think. But my oh my oh my-my-MY! The FIRE that runs through my veins as, again and again, and AGAIN thank you very much, NOTHING. I plan. GOES. AS. PLANNED.

I swear it's since I became a stay at home parent. As if the sleep deprivation and monotony isn't injustice enough. Oh sure, try, just TRY to get away! Get out of the house! Meet friends! Attend baby showers! Buy stuff off of craigslist! Bwaaahaahaaaa, you didn't think you were actually going to GET TO, did you?

This type of thing, plus lack of sleep, makes for a nifty human molotov cocktail. Wanna see me blow? It's easy. Have the baby keep me up off and on all night, then, dangle the chance to go do SOMETHING ANYTHING ELSE in front of my nose. Then, have that handily not work out. I'll combust on the spot.

For example.

I was invited to afrindiemum's beautiful daughter's shower this weekend. Bet you can see where this is going. Yep. That was the day my baby decided, no morning nap for him!! Well, that means no morning nap for Mama! The Mama who stayed up late, putting gifts for afrindiemum together the night before, counting on (PLANS!!! cue evil theme) that morning nap.

So, Mama is tired, baby is tired. Drive across town with said baby who hates drives when tired. Not shaping up very well. But fuck it! We're going anyway. I've already invested a lot in this and damnit, it's my one chance to see people I am not related or married to! We're going anyway!!

Oh, ho? says the universe. Check this out: While I was zombily (is that a word?) getting the baby and me together to leave, a FREAKING SQUIRREL somehow enters our bedroom and begins running around. (I had heard it, or rather, SOMEthing, hit the floor--presumably it entered via our bathroom skylight-- but I thought, Nah, I'm tired and hearing things. Well, I wasn't.) So we had to stop everything and deal with that for the next half hour. Making us irreparably late to the shower, and more tired, and FORGET IT!! That's it. No baby shower for me.

Repeat ad nauseum.

So, if you see me, smoking, singed around the edges, you'll know why. Don't bother inviting me anywhere. I won't make it, guaranteed.

I Want to Remember

I want to remember this time.

When my son begins to favor Daddy and suddenly wants nothing to do with Mama, I want to remember this time.

When he hits the "terrible twos", asserting his individuality by crossing me at every turn, I want to remember this time.

When he's a teenager and withdraws from me, thinking me uncool, I want to remember this time.

I want to remember this time, when DELIGHT is much too mild a word to describe the look on his face when he studies mine.

I want to remember this time, when just the sound of my voice or the sight of me will calm him when he fusses in someone else's arms.

This time, when his eyes track me across the room, or stare unblinkingly at me from his bed as I am putting him to sleep (and then, after closing, peek at me periodically to make sure I'm still there).

This time, when he smiles adorably every time I speak, and rewards the simplest of my antics with squeals of glee.

Right now, this child loves me profoundly and easily and freely. No complexity of heart or spirit exists yet---just powerful, innocent, sweet love for Mama.

I know as he grows, I will recede from this favored position and become so fundamental to him that he'll barely notice how he feels about me. This will be normal, and I will adjust to it, and likely feel wistful for my baby boy who once loved me so.

And I will, hopefully, let him go---and, in the privacy of my own heart, remember this time.

NO.

So I gained ~50 glorious pounds while pregnant, none of which I regret. Amazingly, 30 came off within the first 3 weeks. Since then, I have no idea where I'm at--that is, until we took pictures this weekend while my sisters were here.

Damnit, I can handle the fact that I fit into nothing (as an aside, I have gotten regular-sized feet back). I can also handle the fact that my knees creak. Getting up off the floor is a major job, not to mention when holding a 15lb baby.

My hair is kinda drab, so what--haven't had time to do anything creative with it.

My upper arms suck.

But NO FREAKING WAY MAN . THIS is NOT ACCEPTABLE!!!!!

Ugh ugh ugh...

We are Family

My sisters were here this week, to visit me and meet E. and to see the baby. Here we are! (I'm the one in purple.)

A visit wouldn't be so unusual except that in my family, we see each other on average once every three years. So it was pretty special. (My sisters live in Canada and I'm in Portland OR and none of us travel that much.) This was the weekend E. and I were supposed to be married (grrr! that's another post) so everyone had booked tickets. My sisters, bless their hearts, decided to come anyway. We had a great time! So did Loo--he loved his aunties! See?









And me, I had about as much fun as I've had in a long while.
We sat around, drank and ate and traded memories, most of which I'd forgotten until someone said "Remember...?"

Such as:

Our freaky housekeeper/my stepdad's girlfriend who looked like a witch, chanted, and made us do yoga on the lawn at sunrise and (my sister E. claims and I believe her) wouldn't let my sister have any raisins because SHE needed them for extra iron because she was on her period. Whatever! This lady was weeeeeeeee---eeeeeiiiird.

The joys of being all natural foods and hippie in a small rural Canadian town. (Way to be popular--NOT: be the only kid having RICE BALLS for lunch while everyone else has hot dogs, etc. It was great! No wonder I am so screwed up. Of course we were ahead of our time; today we'd probably be super cool. Well, no, scratch that.)

The entire days we played on the beach with no supervision. Those were the absolute best!! Why the hell anyone would let three young, NOT water-safety or lifeguard trained, girls swim unsupervised for hours is up for grabs, but hey, we loved it and nobody drowned thank God.

Our reminiscing left me with a sense of belonging---a more solid connection to my own history---even if it is rather fragmented, fraught with witchy housekeepers, rice balls and long stretches of hard times.

We girls have been through a lot. It's left each of us strong in some ways and weak in others, but after this weekend, I wouldn't trade it.

I belong to them, and they to me, and we ARE family.

E. and A. (and W.), I love you guys. Thank you for coming and don't let's wait so long next time.

He's the Bomb

The headline over my life right now:

"Grown Woman Gets Ass Kicked By 3-Month-Old Infant!"

You know?

So, Loo melts down in public every time we go out. Down in flames. FLAMES.

He can change on a dime. One minute he's laughing with delight, and I will think "Oh GOOD, this will be a GOOD outing..." The next minute, he's scorching the earth.

I try changing (nope), soothing (nope), feeding (nope), change of scenery (nope). None of it works. I end up pacing the sidewalk in front of whatever establishment I've just had to vacate, with him wriggling and wailing in my arms while whoever I'm with gets them to wrap up my lunch or whatever. He's done and he needs to go home. Wails in the car the whole way. Usually gets over it and starts smiling and cooing as we pull into our own street.

I have gotten to not bother going anywhere. This is Not Good.

Some nights, he sleeps like a champ. Other nights, he lets me juuuuuuust slip off to the "good sleep" and then cries. I get up. Soothe him down. Slip back into bed begging "Please God let him go back to sleep..." then juuuuuuuust as I'm slipping off to the "good sleep".... AHHHHGG!!!! I get so exhausted on those nights that I become someone else (who is rather frightening).

I feel like the bomb squad, constantly de-fusing this little time-bomb with the cute face. ("Which wire do I cut? Oh God, I don't know...It was the green one last time..." EXPLOSION.)

You just gotta go with the flow. Sometimes the flow is pretty cranky and doesn't respond to any of my tricks. And that kicks my ass.

(he does have a cute face though)

Not my musical year

OK, this is it!! I'm pissed.

Wilco is in town this week. Their show sold out in less than an hour. E went down to get tickets as soon as he heard they were coming, and by some fluke of the Universe, he arrived during that hour and got the tix no problem. Well, now we can't go. FARK!

In September, I was reading some weekly rag and saw that Alexi Murdoch had been in town the night before!!! FARK!!! I woulda beat down the door to go see him. I hadn't known. FARK!!!

In June, PATTY GRIFFIN MY ABSOLUTE FARKING FAVE was in town. Where was I? At the coast on my honeymoon, missing it. FARK FARK FARK!!!

Not my musical year.

Truth in Advertising

Have you looked at baby product packaging lately? You should see the "parents" they portray on this stuff. They look like: not me (or any other parents of small children).

This is so wrong:

Come on. Do YOU look like that when your baby is hungry? Do you look like that EVER?

Check out the supposedly "hungry" smiling calm baby. My baby would be screaming and tearing his own face off at this point.

The "Daddy" looks like a Male Model on his way to a go-see for LL Bean:

(Incidentally, why is it the Daddy saving the "hungry baby" day here? I guess that's their token "progressive" touch?)




Come on, people. The Daddy of an infant should look like this:

Whatever.

Babies are weird

My son's in love.

Since he's only 3 months old, this is pretty much the first time I've seen him smitten. And smitten he is; just look at the lovestruck fool.

Now, I know it's practically my duty as a mother to be puzzled about his choice of girlfriends. But in this case, see what YOU think:

Girlfriend #1

Okaaaayyyyy...moving right along.

Girlfriend #2

Girlfriend #2 holds a higher place in his heart than Girlfriend #1--this is obvious. Every time he beholds her, he is dizzy with delight:

But even though she's quite fancy, I still don't get what he sees in Girlfriend #2--do you?

Then again, when you look at her from his perspective, all becomes clear. Oh yes, now I totally see it!











However, lovely as Girlfriends #1 and 2 are, nobody holds sway over him like:

Girlfriend #3














"Oh how I love to look at you, Girlfriend #3..."




























"Stop it, stop it, Girlfriend #3!! You're just too much for me..."




























"That Girlfriend #3, she just kills me..."

Yup. Babies are weird.

Swing has Swung

It's a sad day for MamaLoo.

The site of many a MamaLoo-freeing baby zone-out and/or long (blessed!) nap has gone its way. The baby swing won't swing him anymore--he's too heavy.

I didn't want to believe it. For a couple days, I still tried to put him in it, hoping maybe for a fluke. But no. The thing just groans pathetically while he remains squarely in the middle of the usual trajectory, going nowhere. Fresh batteries have no effect.

I truly am in mourning.

Reminisce! Watch video of Loo in the swing.

Here