The Joys of Mommyhood.....

Some of you may think that my title is a sarcastic lead-in to a blog about getting pooped on at 4 a.m. followed by getting peed on during the diaper change or getting stuck in traffic while your 6-month old is screaming in the backseat. Nope. This is a serious blog about the joys of mommyhood. Though I will admit, some of the mishaps of mommyhood (like deciphering between a tired cry and a teething cry, becoming a spectacle in the mall when you didn't plan the timing just right and the baby is crying from hunger, sleepiness or pure boredom - the case with my son - or feeling guilty when you mix sour milk with his carrots the first time he tries them, turning him off to them forever!) are downright hilarioud just minutes after they occur. Seriously! You can pull him from his carseat after a 3-hour road trip to the Grand Canyon, stand in the cold only to look down and see your fingers just centimeters away from the biggest pile of poo creeping from the top of his diaper and smeared up his back. First, you stand there and think, "what am I supposed to do now?" And then you deal with it. What choice do you have but to figure it out? It's these challenges that become funny memories and are just part of the inevitably chaotic and messy situations that all mommy's must face.

I seem to have derailed from my point. Like I said, this is a serious blog about the joys of mommyhood. There are so many joys every single day, and I am loving each and every one of them. We just introduced Baby Boy to solid foods (like I said, our first experience with the added sour milk wasn't fun for him, and he hasn't liked carrots since), and it's making me realize that he's getting to be such a big boy. He's growing up. They say the years go fast, and man, they weren't lying. If the next six months go as fast as the first six, he'll be one before we know it, and walkin' and talking'...and then he'll be a really big boy!

I just love watching Baby Boy learn and grow. I remember watching him in the bathtub when I handed him his rubber cow-duck (yes, it's a rubber ducky dressed like a cow...it's a cow with a beak...never realized how strange that was til now) for the first time and he reached for it with slow, shaky hands and took it from my hands. Just watching him learn to use his hands was fascinating. When my cousin and his wife visted when Baby Boy was just three weeks old, they took a video of him, and his little hands were all over the place. He didn't know what to do with them or how to control them. I had forgotten that he was that small. I'm SO glad we have that video!

I love watching Baby Boy eat. Just watching him learn to use his mouth and hear his little lips smack the food is so precious to me. Believe it or not, it's even precious to me when he blows spit bubbles while eating and sprays food all over his high chair (and me) : ) I love watching him laugh when Cooper is around (I literally came walking down the hall the other morning to hear Baby Boy cracking up while bouncing in his bouncer...he was sitting there, by himself, looking at Cooper and belly laughing). I love the noises he makes in the morning (we call it "talking") when he's lying in his crib. He's so content just to lay there, testing his vocal chords, with no real urgency of being picked up. I love watching him bounce in his bouncer with a look of determination to bounce as high as possible. I love playing fetch with Cooper in the backyard while Baby Boy watches from his tiny blue Bumbo. I love how he laughs when I push him in his swing and how he laughs at me when I do silly things like kiss his cheeks and talk in funny voices. I could go on and on. The point here is that babies bring a whole new level of enjoyment to your life that I honestly didn't know existed before Baby Boy was born. While some of the joys of mommyhood are those icky, poopy, frustrating moments, they just add character to the rest of the moments you will treasure forever.
AndI am finding that those icky, poopy moments are also ones to treasure forever.

My (non) wish list

So, I have a very specific reason for blogging tonight - to check one thing off my "to do" list. It's a mile long. (Hold that thought...Baby Boy is crying in his crib...he must still be hungry).
Okay, I'm back. I could write a whole other blog about the thoughts I have as I watch Baby Boy nurse to sleep. He is SO precious and innocent, and the room is so quiet that my mind easily wanders to all kinds of places. But, I'll stick to my original intent and talk about my mile-long list. Before I decided to blog tonight, I had to sit and think about it for a minute. Do I want to blog? Will I feel guilty for taking 10 minutes to do it when I could use that 10 minutes to scratch off a different (and possibly more important) item from my list? Nope. Time to blog. Here are the things I am neglecting....

* Folding laundry
* Uploading pictures to Facebook
* Cleaning up the kitchen (fortunately there are only a few things in the sink to put in the dishwasher)
* Filing paperwork
* Taking my vitamins
* Blogging (hey, at least I'm getting one thing done from the list!)
* Working on my book proposal
* Straightening up the living room
* Catching up on writing in my journal (my hand-written, private journal...the one I don't want to share with the world)
* Reading my book
* Going to the gym
* Searching online for some possible ideas for magazine articles
* Emailing friends who wrote weeks ago (sorry I have become an email slacker!)
* Making a grocery list for tomorrow

Okay, I'll stop there. The list could just keep going and going and going. Most of the time, I feel as though my head is above water, but other times (such as now), I don't. Tonight is one of those nights where no matter what I'm doing, I feel as though I should be doing something else. How counterproductive. I'm gonna go clean the kitchen. Then take my vitamins. Then straighten up the living room. Then crawl into my bed and read my book. That's it. Four things off the list. Not bad. There's always tomorrow, right?

Pumpkins

I realized last night that carving Halloween pumpkins serves as a dual-purpose. It makes you aware of the child that still lives within you, and at the same time, it makes you realize that you're no longer a child. I'll start with the latter. Baby Boy's bedtime routine starts between 7 and 7:30 p.m. and he is usually in bed by 8. Well, Daddy didn't get home til 6, and I had to do an interview for work anytime after 6:45 (that's the only time the interviewee was available). So, Daddy gets home and I'm left pondering the following: Baby Boy's bedtime is in two hours. I have to cook dinner. I have to interview s0-and-so by 7. I have to start Baby Boy's bath by 7 or 7:30. We have two pumpkins (one big, one little) to carve tonight. Tonight is our only night before Halloween. Hmmm...where to start.

So I start cooking dinner - chicken, baked potato, corn - easy enough. I've got it all cooking and Baby Boy starts getting fussy. Well, Daddy has this magical way of calming him through music. He literally takes out his guitar, starts playing and singing, and immediately Baby Boy is intrigued. He sits in his bouncer while daddy plays, and I have just enough time to finish making dinner. But Daddy's magic only lasts so long, so Baby Boy starts to fuss just as we're able to sit down for dinner. Well, we still haven't carved pumpkins and it's approaching 7. So, we try one last thing. Daddy digs his hands into the big pumpkin and I put Baby Boy in his high-chair to watch. He's entertained for a little while - just enough time for us to gut the pumpkins. Now he's really upset. Determined to finish the pumpkins, Daddy holds Baby Boy while I carve the faces. My pumpkins always look the same. Triangle eyes, triangle nose and a big, goofy (and often crooked) smile with two teeth on top. I forgot to carve the one tooth on the bottom, but that's okay. They still turned out very cute. We took a bunch of pictures (which, we can all admit, is the true reason for carving pumpkins with a 4-month old - they could care less - but someday they will appreciate the pictures) and by now, Baby Boy is ready for his nighttime routine. Before I continue this story, I will share the thoughts I had during the carving.

It was a blast! I remember doing it as a kid. It was something to look forward to for weeks (especially with that big, orange, faceless pumpkin sitting around the house, just teasing you, waiting to be carved). I remember the night of carving as an actual event. My parents would cover the garage floor with newspapers and we'd gather all the essential carving tools (you know, big spoons, bowls for the pumpkin guts, candles to bring them to life). It would take hours to cut off the lid, gut the pumpkin, peel the annoying stringy stuff from your fingers and carve the faces. Ours always took a little longer because my dad loved to make ears out of the chunks of pumpkin that came from the nose and mouth. We'd use toothpicks to stick them to the side of our pumpkin's head. We thought it was so funny. The ears made our pumpkins special! Anyway, I'm remembering all this as Daddy and I are carving our big pumpkin and Baby Boy's small pumpkin, and I'm realizing that for us as kids, it was a special event, and for our parents, it was something to squeeze into the busy routines of their lives. I truly enjoyed carving our pumpkins last night, but until then, I never quite realized (or had never thought about) how pumpkin-carving (as much fun as it is and as much as you see your kids have doing it), is somewhat of a chore for parents.

And that brings me to the conclusion to my story - you know, the part about realizing you're no longer a child. Carving pumpkins had to be squeezed into our busy, time-crunched nightly routine, but we did it, and not only did it give me an apprecition for my parents and for my childhood, it reminded me how important it is to take time away from the regular, mundane routine and be a kid again. And that's exactly what happened last night. I was transformed into a child that secretly enjoyed the slimy seeds and string between my fingers.

And for mom's with babies, here's a tip: If you have a fussy baby during pumpkin-carving time, gather all the pumpkins guts into a bowl and let your baby stomp his feet in it. The idea just came to us after our pumpkins were carved and Baby Boy wanted nothing to do with it anymore. We rolled up his pant legs, put his feet right in, and immediately, he started stomping them around. He squished the seeds and annoying stringy stuff between his toes and smiled the entire time. He was truly happy.

Awe, the joys of childhood : )

(If anyone cares to know, I was able to give Baby Boy his bath and get him to bed by 8, eat dinner by 8:29 and call my interviewee -who I had already called to tell I would call later in the night, between 8 and 8:30 - at 8:30 on the dot. See? Everything worked out just fine in the end)

A day at the park

The other day, I took Baby Boy and our little dog, Cooper, for a walk. It's a lovely walk - .5 miles each way to a nice, big park near our house. There's a walking path lining the grassy area of the park, and across the street is an elementary school. School had just let out that day, and tons of kids were walking home from school, through the park. I couldn't help but overhear their conversations as they passed by, and I was thinking about how funny their conversations were. There were three separate groups of little boys walking home, and each group I passed was talking about video games! I was deep in thought, reminiscing about my days as an elementary school student. We got home from school every day and couldn't wait to gather our neighborhood friends (and there were like, 20 of us!) together for a game of whoofle ball (no clue how to spell that, or if it's even called "whoofle" - maybe it was "whiffle"...hmmm...not sure). Anyway, other days, we would climb trees, use our entire block as fair game for hiding spots during hide-and-seek, ride our bikes, play truth or dare or make up our own games (like Red Man...that's a whole other blog). My point is that I was deep in thought. I never imagined what I was about to see.

I stopped to give Cooper was water, and as I stood up from my hunched position, tearing through the park, heading straight for us, was a wild coyote! I'm not kidding! My first thought: "that's not a dog...that's a frickin coyote!"

I heard parents screaming their child's name, grabbing their arms to pull them closeby. I yanked Cooper's leash back so hard I'm surprised he could still breathe. I jumped in front of the stroller to protect Baby Boy, and the coyote was literally five feet from us. With a crazed look in his eyes, he just kept running. He looked like a silver bullet shooting through the park...I never realized just how fast those things are. The closest I've ever gotten to one was from behind cage bars at a zoo. I've heard packs of them howling in our neighborhood like a group of screaming little girls, but I've never been that up close and personal to one. And it wasn't fun! I shot my head around as he ran by us and watched as he tore through the park, across the street, down the sidewalk lining the school, and down the street where all the children were walking. I heard screams and saw kids scattering all over the place while cars slowed as the coyote darted in and out of traffic. It looked like Godzilla just came to town.

Needless to say, I followed the coyote with my eyes until he was out of sight, and I booked it home. I even jogged a little when I got on our street. I just wanted to be in the safety of our home. It didn't turn out to be quite the walk in the park I had imagined it would be. Lesson learned??? Wiley Coyote is not so cute in person.

Nosey people

I was at a cafe yesterday having lunch with my mom. As usual, we were having a very pleasant conversation when suddenly, we heard that one single noise that can quiet an entire room - and it did. Thud! The little girl sitting behind us (who was constantly going up, down, up, down, on her chair, off her chair, on, off, on, off...) missed the edge of her seat when she went to sit down, and she crashed onto the tile floor below. I saw it in slow motion. Feet, back, bottom, head, whack! Those of us sitting near their table instantly hushed. My hand flew over my open mouth. Together, we waited for the cry. And fortunately, it came. The precious little girl with curly blonde hair lied on the ground, staring up at her mom with big, teary eyes. Her mom, who, first of all (in my opinion) should have told her daughter to keep her hiney on the chair, slowly picked her up as though this was a common, everyday occurence. Or maybe she's just one of those mom's who doesn't freak out over a near-cracked head. Either way, you may have noticed that my title is "nosey people," and you're probably wondering why.

So, when everyone decided that it was okay to stop staring and start talking again (softly, slowly), my mom said, "She didn't hit her head that hard, because she's crying. That's always a good sign. It's when the kid isn't crying that you have to worry."

Me (totally distracted): "What?"

Mom (starting over, repeating herself): "She didn't hit her head that..."

The Annoying Lady at the table next to us: "Yes, she did."

Mom (looking at her, annoyed): "What?"

Annoying Lady: "She did hit her head."

Mom (totally annoyed and suddenly wondering how this woman entered our conversation): "I was talking to my daughter. I didn't say she didn't hit her head. I said she didn't hit her head that hard."

I guess she would have known that if she was fully listening. Instead, she heard what she wanted to hear and chimed in mid-sentence. How irritating! But not surprising. This is the same lady, who, just minutes before that, made a comment to me about Baby Boy. I was holding him, enjoying watching him look around at all the people. Baby Boy had missed his nap because there was just too much activity going on, so he was pretty sleepy. The same Annoying Lady said to me, "he's really tired." But, it wasn't in a tone that said, "oh, he's so cute, and he looks so sleepy." It was more of a tone like, "you're a bad mom for having him out and about when he's so tired." It was just that sort of sarcastic, judgemental tone that you don't want to hear from a complete stranger (or anyone else for that matter!). I'll stop complaining about the Annoying Lady. She was just annoying...I guess there are worse things.

Belly Fat

Okay, I've been going back and forth, back and forth, as whether or not to post a blog about this (hence the 4-day lapse in posts). Losing belly fat. We all know how hard it is, and though I've magically lost every pound of weight gained during pregnancy, I've gained some unwanted pudge in some areas and lost in other areas. For instance, my arms seem a little trimmer than before, but that darn donut-roll around the tummy got a little bigger. Sure, clothes can cover it, but just cause it's covered doesn't mean it's gone. It's not. So, I decided to join a gym. And not just any gym - one of those gyms that hold you accountable! I mean, it's a program where, if you go three times a week for a month, that gets you to the next level, which requires more visits to the gym and at least one free training with a personal trainer a month. Sounds easy, right? The saying "time is of the essence" holds very true in this case. Who has time for this? Well, apparently I am committed (to the gym, anyway), and then came the inner controversy about posting this blog. Now you can hold me accountable (gasp!)

My goal is to lose 15 pounds, and if I stick to the program, this will supposedly happen in 3 months. As they say, I will keep you posted, but wish me luck. And determination. And stick-to-it-eveness (is that a word?). And motivation. And the will to keep going. That's a lot of wishing.

Flying Boogies

I didn't think I would have anything to write on my second day of blogging, but I found a flying boogie very inspirational today. I'll explain. A few weeks ago, our dog, Cooper, ate our big, blue booger-sucker. You know, the one they give you at the hospital that actually works...not the cheap ones they sell in retail stores that can't suck a darn thing. But, it's all I had, so I have been trying since yesterday to get this one big boogie out of Baby Boy's right nostril. You know the one...dangles when he cries, pokes its head out just long enough to be sucked back in before you can get a good hold of it!

Anyway...we just got home after a nice long four-day vacation from seeing my grandparents in Oregon. After vacation, Baby Boy's sleep schedule is always off, so the first few days after getting home are generally rough. Well, today was the third day after our trip, and Baby Boy's schedule is almost back on track, but not quite. So, needless to say, he was fussy all day today. I mean the kind of fussy that makes you want to cry right along with him (which I admit I did!) I tried everything. I put him in his bouncer. He cried. Took him out, held him. He cried. Laid him on his mat. He cried. Put him in the jumperoo. He cried. Do you see a pattern here? So I thought holding him, snuggling him on the couch, would help. And it did...for a moment. I was lying on my back, knees propped, with him standing on my stomach (which he normall loves to do!) He stopped crying long enough to look around, deciding if he was still upset. He gave one more cry of frustration, which launched the darn boogie from his right nostril, splat onto my neck. I looked at him, he looked at me. No more tears.

For a few minutes, that is! His case of the fussies continued well into the evening. Bathtime is his favorite part of the day, and he kicked the bubbly water as he always does and enjoyed every minute of it. When his Daddy and I were tucking him into bed, Daddy said, "You know, you are my favorite person in the world." Baby Boy looked at him with his big blue eyes and I realized (maybe I should say I was reminded) that he could launch boogies at my throat all day long, and he will forever be my favorite person in the world.

To blog or not to blog...

A few months ago, I wasn't exactly sure what a blog even was. I had heard the word and knew it was something you did online, but that's about it. Now I suppose I'm an official blogger, if that's even a word. When I discovered that it was a way for me to share my thoughts and record life's silly moments, I thought these were reasons enough to get me blogging (is that a word?). So, I signed up and here I am. I won't lie and say I wasn't hesitant to do it. I was. I thought, "I really won't have anything interesting to write. I'm not that interesting." Then I started thinking of all of life's little moments - the happy ones, the sad ones, the ones that want to make you pull your hair out. Mine's full of those, so I thought, "what the heck?" There is one defining moment tonight that made me go for it.

It took me a good half hour to add all the layers of the lasagna I was making for dinner tonight because my 3 1/2-month old Baby Boy was fussy. Noodles, sauce mixture, cheese...noodles, sauce mixture, tend to Baby Boy, cheese...noodles, tend to Baby Boy, sauce mixture, cheese....and so it continued four times until I finally had a finished lasagna ready for the oven. By now he's screaming and ready for bed, so I say to him, "okay, sweetie, I'm gonna put you in the bouncer for one second while mommy puts the lasagna in the oven." He actually looked at me like he understood...until I walked away. The waterworks started, so I ran to the kitchen, shoved the lasanga inside and came back to scoop Baby Boy up. I fed him, put him down and tiptoed out the door. Five minutes later, he was crying again, and that's when I thought it was a clear-cut sign that I wasn't supposed to blog. I didn't have the time. (**Note** I write this as Baby Boy is lying awake in his crib, pulling his legs up toward his head and crashing them down onto the mattress - over and over again. I can see on the monitor that it jiggles the crib just enough to be amusing - I know this because he's smiling that precious nose-crinkling smile that melts my heart every single time.)

It dawned on me when I was eating my lasagna later on that maybe a blog was my saving grace. A time for me. A time to spend five minutes or a half hour every few nights sharing my thoughts if, for no other reason, to realize just how lucky I am to have the most precious Baby Boy in the world and our experiences together to write about. I have been meaning to write in my journal, but I've done so once in four months, so maybe this is a more efficient way to journal my thoughts and record my life. And for those of you who care, it's here for you to read!