Finding the new me

Before Kate was born, I wrote a post about my decision to leave my job and be a stay-at-home mom. It was a painful choice honestly, and nearly four months after Kate was born, I was desperately afraid I had made the wrong decision. Not that I didn't love Kate, but I felt like the things that I had always used to define myself were slowly slipping away. I didn't really have a sense for who I was anymore, and while I loved Kate more than anything, lets talk straight for a moment... babies don't really DO anything. Except for the occasional gas smile, all I was dealing with was bodily fluids, screaming and mind-numbing TV (seriously -- who programs this stuff? I would feel better about myself if I spent an afternoon watching a bunch of monkeys in diapers wash cars than if I watched a half an hour of daytime TV).

Anyways, when I got THE CALL from my previous employer offering me a part-time contract gig, I was ecstatic. I didn't even have to think about it, I nearly screamed "YES!" before the offer was completely out of her mouth. It seemed too good to be true. I would be working 20 hours a week, but most of it from home. I could put Kate in a Mother's Day Out program for two half-days a week to go into the office for in-person meetings and I would get ADULT INTERACTION! I would have MENTAL STIMULATION!

The offer came in October, when Kate was just turning six months old. I felt really good about the arrangement, even though it was only for two months.

Fast forward to March 26, 2010. Just a few weeks ago was my last day of contract work... exactly SIX months after I started. The arrangement had been extended several times, and I was so lucky to have the best of both worlds for half a year. I was a stay-at-home mom who still got to do what I loved, what I was passionate about. Sure, it wasn't perfect. When the project started, Kate wasn't even crawling yet. She had tummy time and I had email time. But as she got older and more adventurous, finding time to get work done got harder and harder. I even found myself getting annoyed with her for things that I should have been praising -- because it made it harder for mommy to do work. And while I'm not proud of how I handled every situation, I am proud of finding a way to balance my needs with my child's needs.

Now, the contract is over and I'm feeling slightly lost. Part of me is excited to just take a few months and focus on Kate. She is growing up so fast and changing so much and is now this little person with a personality and ATTITUDE and I want to make sure I don't miss this time. But the other part of me, the part that got exasperated yesterday because she was fussy and forced her to take a nap even though she wasn't tired because I was tired of HER, that part of me feels like I'm not cut out to be this person I'm trying to be.

But I think that is the point. To be a good mom, I have to be happy and feel good about where I am in life. And while I know I don't want to go back to work full-time, I don't know what I need to make me fulfilled and balanced. So I guess what I'm going to be doing for the next few months is finding the new me. Finding a way that I can be a Super Mom and Super Me at the same time.

Suggestions are welcome, criticism will be ignored and job offers will be considered.

Hitting the bottle, one last time

As you blunder through life as a mommy (or daddy) you make judgement calls along the way about certain issues. I like to call this "parenting" -- and while it is hard to say if there is really a "right" or a "wrong" when it comes to making these decisions, somewhere down the line you may realize you made an earlier judgement call that is coming back to bite you in the ass... BIG time. That ass-biting is happening in our household right this VERY INSTANT.

You see, we had some trouble getting Kate to sleep as a newborn. Shocker right? Baby NOT sleeping? We were total amateurs who expected more from our little bundle of newly born perfectness. Now we know better. Newborn = no sleep. Got it. But after several months of little sleep, Ben and I were frankly ready to do anything, including running away to Mexico to leave the other parent stranded with the sleepless baby... SUCKER!

Long story short, by the time Kate was six months old we had taught her to sleep through the night. She just had to have her lovey and a bottle before bed. THATS RIGHT I SAID IT. A bottle before bed. We were desperate, and sleepy, and frankly, if my baby wants to hit the bottle before bed, who am I to tell her no? But it worked, Kate sleeps 10-12 hours a night. The only time we have sleep issues is when she is teething or sick, and she is easily rocked (or bottled) back to bed.

Even during the day, Kate loves to just unwind with a bottle. It is her early morning and mid-afternoon veg time. Like mommy and happy hour. And while she will drink water from a cup like a champ, if you put milk in that same cup during bottle time, girlfriend looks at you like she wants to run you over with a steam roller. Basically, the cup isn't the issue so much as the lack of bottle during appropriate bottle drinking times that causes much wailing and gnashing of sharp little baby teeth. By teaching her to unwind and relax with a bottle at night, we've caused her to become dependent on the bottle to relax and unwind during the day as well. My baby truly is a bottle milk-aholic.

But now, she is a big girl. She is a one-year old toddler and I have been informed by Kate's pediatrician that if she doesn't get off the bottle, she is going to have hillbilly teeth for the rest of her life and no one will love her. Ever. So starts the battle for the bottle.

I tried to cut her off last week when Ben was out of town. I wasn't strong enough. After much crying and pointing and wailing and sleeplessness, I gave in. But today, with Ben back in town, we are starting it again. And all I can think is that Kate got her last bottle this morning with Ben and she didn't even really know it was the last time she was going to have that pleasure. I feel like we should give the bottle a going-away party, or at least let her know that "Okay, this is the LAST TIME... so savor it."

And, maybe I'm making it a bigger deal than it is, but like anything that I've seen go by the wayside, it marks another part of her childhood, her babyness, that is ending and I find it really bittersweet.

But if I never have to wash another damn bottle in my life it will be SOOOO worth it.

No one is safe

So two weeks ago, when it was totally relevant, I started a post about Kate walking. I never finished it due to some diaper or work emergency, I can't remember exactly why. What I do know however is that her first toddling steps are glaringly missing from this blog, since our whole life seems to have changed since Kate went from our little baby to this independent TODDLER. So I feel the need to back-story her walking, and it went a little something like this...

We always knew Kate would be an early walker, as she has been taking assisted steps for several months now. However, exactly one week and one day before her year birthday, Kate took her very first unprovoked steps while I was on a conference call for work (I've been working part-time from home). And, because I was distracted, it didn't feel like a huge deal at the time. It registered that Kate was walking towards me from the fridge, I mean, I mentally noted it because I've become a genius at multi-tasking with Kate (I can strategize with a client and feed a fussy infant a cracker while working the remote to find Handy Manny so she will BE QUIET MOMMY IS ON A CALL with the best of 'em) and I had already seen her take a few steps before, when Ben or I would let go of her hands and she'd walk a tiny distance into our arms. So anyways, I mentally noted all this happening but really didn't react, except to flinch when she went from standing to flat on her face, which is apparently her only means to go from walking to not walking.

So I hang up after the call and look at her, and she looks at me, like "Hey jerk face -- I'm doing something pretty amazing and cool here, could you focus on me for like, TWO SECONDS??" and I'm all "What? Like mommy doesn't have other things to do than focus on you?" and she is all "YOU SUCK!"

And while that conversation MAY be a SLIGHT exaggeration of the actual discussion (since Kate's verbal skills are limited to hi, mama, dada, doggie and crowing like a rooster) once I hung up and looked down at her, I realized the enormity of what had happened while my attention was elsewhere. My little girl had pulled herself to standing and on her own gumption, taken three tiny steps that had really big meaning.

She was no longer my baby girl. She was my toddler.

The rest of the day it was very tentative exploration time and I watched her like a hawk (to make up for, you know, being a crappy mom). Kate was up and down all over the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, her bedroom... you get the idea. It was two to three steps every time and then a less-than-graceful fall to the floor. At which point I would hold my breath, preparing for the wail and a few tears, but she seemed so impressed by herself that she just would take a breather and then get ready for the next big adventure, courtesy of her new found freedom from crawling.

Two days later, I had a naked baby screaming a tiny war cry as she ran down the hall from bath time, off to do something very important like terrorize the dogs or a demolish a village of her Fisher Price Little People. With walking, Kate has become invincible. And not too unlike a cuddly version of Godzilla. Woe be to anyone or thing in her path. She will stomp, and likely fall, all over your ass.

And, yes, I realize this photo has nothing (like, totally, 100% nothing) to do with my post. But it makes me laugh every single time I look at it, so there you go. You are welcome.

One year

Dear Kate,

Today you turn one, and I can't believe how the past year has flown by. You utterly amaze me with every passing moment and I'm so honored and proud to have brought you into this world. I just love everything about you. You are such a tiny little person who literally fills up a room with your big personality. I can watch you for hours and laugh with you constantly. I love the way you command a room with your funny booty shaking dances, how you kiss or hug every other child you see, the way you point at what you want and shake your head at me when I get it wrong. I love when you do something new, something that you came up with all on your own, like blowing raspberries to mimic me blowing my nose, using my hand to push the buttons on toys that are too hard for you to push, pulling a cap off a pen and finding it maybe the coolest thing on the planet so you have to do it 50 times in a row. And I love it when you finally learn to do something I've been working on with you, like when you learned to play peek-a-boo, to crow like a rooster and of course, walking like a champ. I could go on and on because the things you do that make me proud, that make me happy, that make me in awe of you -- the list is endless.

Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for teaching me a new kind of love. Thank you for making me rich in spirit and whole in person.

I love you.

Mom

Where babies poop sunshine

There is a tiny children's library in the mall near my home. They host story time and sing-alongs for kids throughout the week, and the two times I've taken Kate, she nearly worked up a lather she was so stoked to be clapping, swaying and watching tons of babies and moms basically make fools of themselves. I was horrified the first time I went. I literally thought to myself, "I don't belong here." This happened the second time we went back, but despite all my misgiving I saw how much Kate was enjoying it, so I vowed to make it a priority that we go once a week and that I actively participate instead of thinking how much more I would enjoy it with a cocktail in hand.

This morning, Kate woke early and surly. I mean, this was a girl who was NOT a happy camper. And for no obvious or outward reason. I called Ben to complain about how hard life is when your toddler thinks you are an idiot and he invited me to meet him out for lunch. I figured having Ben in charge for an entire lunch hour was just the break I needed so I loaded Kate in the car seat where she screamed at top voice for the full 15 minutes it took to get to the restaurant. As soon as we entered the door and she saw Daddy though, girl turned into an absolute angel. I mean, playing peek a boo, waving, flirting with strangers and all around charming the pants off everyone around her. I knew better. While young, she is still my daughter and her ability to manipulate the people around her are uncanny. But at least she was good, and she ate like a champ. Half an avocado, chicken, black beans, corn. This girl was taking it DOWN.

After lunch, Ben put her in the car seat and she groused slightly until he closed the door and was out of ear shot. And then, as soon as she knew we were alone, she gave a piercing howl and proceeded to give me an ass chewing for just being alive. I decided that it was now the perfect time to go to the mall for the sing-along, because I could not stand the thought of taking Kate home and being yelled at for an entire afternoon. I figured the class would entertain her and I may even get to do some shopping afterwards.

Foolish.

We arrived slightly late and took a seat in the corner. Now, I probably will have to do a whole other post dedicated to the stay-at-home mom in Dallas, but needless to say some moms intimidate the hell out of me -- and this class was full of them. I found myself apologizing when Kate crawled over to play with someone else's baby, because everyone else's kids are just kind of sitting around and staring into space or actually singing along, and Kate wants to, you know, PLAY. Like, come ON, what is WRONG with you? You don't get it, here you just stick my fist in your mouth, like this...

And then I'm apologizing for my daughter sticking her full fist in some kids mouth. Who, by the way, didn't really seem to mind, but whatever.

So I keep Kate in my lap during the singing, and she really is just NOT enjoying it. But I grit my teeth and we stay through the entire half hour. Once the formal class is finished and people start to file out, I let Kate down to cut a rug, and she is crawling around like a manic off her meds. At one point I look down to see her urp up a little lunch and crawl right through it. I'm embarrassed and start to swing down to grab her but she is on the move and before you can say "STOP, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" she horks up her entire lunch, I'm talking PROJECTILE vomits, all over the floor next to some woman's shoe.

Some women's DESIGNER shoe. I'm stunned. She is stunned. Kate is FINALLY happy and starts babbling as she PLAYS WITH HER VOMIT ON THE FLOOR.

It is at that moment that I seriously hoped lightening would strike me dead. Sure, Kate would be an orphan, but Ben has a good family support system, and I think they would be okay. I start spewing apologies as I mop up the mess and can literally feel my face go from embarrassed red to KILL ME, KILL ME, KILL ME red.

We hustled out of there and I rushed to the car, where I stripped Kate naked and strapped her in her seat. Despite having just emptied the contents of her stomach, she seemed to finally be back to my sweet and loving baby. She stroked my face and cooed at me and there was no screaming or fussing of any kind. I got her home and into bed and she conked out and is still sleeping. My guess is that she is probably is having lovely dreams of puppies and rainbows and music sing-alongs with bells.

I on the other hand have the shakes, nausea and am dreaming of world where babies poop sunshine. Where, oh where, is THAT world? I'd be a really good mommy there...

My commitment

In our kitchen is a framed photo that was signed by a bunch of our friends on the night of our engagement party. I'm not sure why, but lately every time I pass it I focus on a note in the upper right hand corner. It says, "Don't forget to have fun."

At the time, that little note seemed so funny. I mean seriously, Ben and I? We were the epitome of fun. We could have been the King and Queen of the Fun Prom if there were such a thing. I mean, okay, its not like I ever removed my panties and danced on a bar, so maybe I'm not THAT fun, but we still had a few good laughs every day we spent together.

And while it seems amazing that it is even possible, I think Ben and I have forgotten to have fun lately. Ending each day exhausted, stressed and thanks to our little germ factory, sick, we often can't work up enough energy to talk to each other, let alone do something FUN. In fact, I noticed the other night that more often than not, after Kate is down we spend time on the sofa on our respective iPhones doing something social with other people (Facebook, Twitter, Words with Friends) rather than interacting with each other.

We used to have so much fun together. We were always going out with friends, playing Wii or a board game, going for a jog or playing tennis. Then I got pregnant and was always tired. We both became stressed about work and life decisions. To work or not to work. What to do next in life. Feeling the pressure of supporting an entire family on just one income. It all become a lot.

Now, don't get me wrong, we still have fun. We just have to work harder at it than we used to, and sometimes it just feels like a bit too much.

This past weekend, Texas experienced an unprecedented snowfall. While the rest of the country may be tired of the white stuff making life miserable, we were ecstatic. The city shut down on Friday and Ben and I both worked from home with a fire in the fireplace, hot coffee in our cups and Kate playing on the floor. When Kate went down for her nap, I talked Ben into taking a work break and going outside to build a snowman with me. I used the excuse that I wanted Kate to have one to take photos with, but truly I wanted to recapture some of our old selves. We pulled on our warmest sweatshirts and found gardening gloves in the garage (yes, we don't own snow gloves... we live in TEXAS for God's sake). And we went outside and built a damn good snowman.

And it was fun. We threw snow at each other, we borrowed a carrot and coal from a neighbor, gave another neighbor tips on rolling snow and ended up with the biggest (and best dressed) snowman on our block. After Kate woke up we took some photos with the snowman to commemorate the day it snowed in Dallas.

My heart was full. And I knew that I wanted to recreate it by taking steps to be more active, more aware and more PRESENT in my day-to-day life with my amazing family. I am so blessed, and so in love with the life I've been given. And I know that it is up to me to take advantage of every single moment, every single second and treasure it.

And for that reason, today I made the commitment to give up my social networks for Lent. I will no longer rock Kate to sleep while reading updates on Facebook. I will talk to my spouse instead of Tweeting the things I'm thinking. I will create opportunities for cherished memories with people I love, instead of interacting with people I sort of know. That is my commitment. I can't wait to get started.

Seriously, we only had mini-carrots so we had to borrow a nose-size carrot from our neighbor. The hat, mine. Pretty sweet right? I bought it about a year ago and quickly realized it was a mistake when Ben mocked me relentlessly. I never wore it in public. Glad Frosty got to rock it.Ben is 6'7" at least. So this snowman is nearly 7 feet tall. Yes, I give you permission to be amazed. Ben nearly threw his back out getting the middle lifted into place.

Kate is just confused by all the white stuff. I also think she may remember the incident where we sat her in snow for a photo opp during Christmas, without gloves or ski pants, so she is a bit wary of what is going to happen next.But when standing, with gloves and shoes on... yeah, this white stuff is kind of cool.

My Funny Valentine

Today seems like a good day to share the moment my heart was swept away from me. It was only a week ago actually. Saturday, February 6, 2010. A day that will live with me forever.

My family was in town, and I was given the luxury of a long shower (without cartoons or wailing baby in the background) while Kate entertained my folks. Once clean, dry, dressed and -- HAIR DID -- I came back into the living room and scooped Kate up for a hug while I chatted with the group. Obviously, I wasn't paying her enough attention, so Kate reached up her perfect, tiny little hands and placed them on either side of my face until I faced her and looked into her eyes. Then, ever so gently, she leaned forward and gave me the most gentle and loving kiss I've ever received. I nearly cried it was so sweet. It was if she was saying, "I know you weren't gone long, but I want you to know that I missed you and I love you."

The thing is, I know Kate loves me. She cuddles and snuggles and wants me around when she is hurt or tired. But she had never kissed me before. Our funny bunny always ducked when we'd come at her with a kiss, so when she wanted to show a little affection, she would gently lay her forehead against ours. But we couldn't get her to kiss us no matter how hard we tried.

And that is the part that melts my heart the most, that I wasn't looking for a kiss. I wasn't puckered up at her, trying to teach her what "kiss" meant or even trying to sneak in a cuddle. At that moment, while I was holding her she somehow connected the love we feel for her with the act of giving her a kiss, and she felt that love and wanted to share that with me. It humbled and amazed me.

The group "aaaahhhhed" -- so of course my little showgirl gave me six more kisses in a row. The last four or so open-mouthed as she grinned at her fans. And of course then she got bored with the game and was ready to be put down so she could go terrorize the dogs, or eat a leaf or poke a finger in a light socket, and the tender moment was all but forgotten for her.

But I will never forget it as long as I live.