30 weeks, 3 days: On Being A Mom

 
Devyn's naps have started getting irregular again lately—she seems to think that a ten minute snooze in Mom's arms is sufficient for a 9am nap—and so I was letting her sleep after she ate this morning, holding and rocking her and reading blogs on my iPod as I am wont to do, when I came across two things in just a matter of minutes that crystalized how I'm feeling about motherhood these days.

The first was a post in which the author was talking about saying thank you even when you don't feel thankful.  As in, saying "Thank you for this tiny person," as you are cleaning up a massive poop blowout, or "Thank you for this home," as you sweep up yet another pile of dog hair.  The idea is that just the act of putting that thank you out into the universe can help adjust your attitude towards whatever it is you're facing.

The second thing was a post by a lovely author who has a toddler and a creative business and went to an art show this past weekend.  She writes,

to be honest, i felt a little out of place. and in my heart i felt envious; i've guiltily given most creative projects a backseat (or thrown in the trunk!) in my life right now. i wish i could carve out more time for things like this, i thought to myself. more time for cultivating my skills for awesome passions i wish i had time for. if i didn't blog so much, maybe i could be better at fill-in-the-blank. or, maybe if i could cut out my once-in-awhile napping ritual i could read more fine literature or possibly, dig into the new yorker or something equally as stimulating / informative...

soon i began to look around– pushing through those feelings–and saw dan with benji in his arms, mingling with the artists and i realized something. my own toddler is my creative project at the moment. he's the main show. and that is more than okay with me. it was a happy mini lightbulb moment.

I have so felt like this. I took on food blogging as a serious pursuit right after Devyn was born, and I started to meet all these incredible people doing amazing things. I became immersed in this world where people go out for cocktails every night, hang out at restaurants and chit chat with the chef and the bartenders, take field trips to farms every weekend to learn about their food, cure their own meats, brew their own alcohol, go up into the mountains and wander around for hours in silence picking wild mushrooms and berries. 

And I was envious.  That little green monster has taken hold of my heart more than once in the last seven months, making me jealous that I have neither the time nor the disposable income to indulge in so many of these pursuits.

And let's not even get started on the mommy bloggers who are suddenly my peers, and the real-life perfect moms I've met who post online about the dozens of crafts they have planned for the holiday season, the elaborate dessert buffet they whipped up for the PTA meeting, the dozens of Christmas gifts they've lovingly crafted—and finished!—so that they can do nothing but bake and watch Christmas movies with their kids from Thanksgiving to New Year's. 

I've felt that sense of, "if only..."  If only I worked harder, my house would be clean all the time.  If only I managed my time better, I could work out for two hours a day to be fit and healthy.  If only I worked more often after Devyn goes to bed, I could spend more time working with her, teaching her to wave and point to my nose and crawl.  If only...

And then. 

And then there are moments when it all just melts away.  When good enough really is good enough.  When I remember those first days when Devyn arrived and I marveled at her, called her my zen master, and prayed every day that I would be able to learn the lessons she is here to teach me. 

I truly am thankful for the poop blowouts and the 3am waking and the spit up.  And I really am OK letting Devyn be my creative outlet right now. 

Because she is so, so worth it. 

23 Days Old

The Baby Bean had her first bathtub bath yesterday. After much contemplation about whether or not we really needed it, we bought the fold up foam tub that fits in the sink, and I'm deeming it a good buy. It basically turns my kitchen sink into a soft-sided tub, which is awesome.

And despite the faces she's making in these photos, I think she really likes bath time.

~*~

We continue to feel each other out in regards to what works and what doesn't in this new partnership. Gone are the nights that we needed to wake her up to feed her, but we are getting around three hours of sleep at a stretch overnight. I'm starting to understand that even if she thinks she wants to be awake for long periods (say, more than an hour or so) during the day, that's bad news and usually ends up with a very angry baby who has trouble falling asleep for her naps. It's also becoming apparent that she thinks 1 or 2am is an excellent time to be awake and not want to go back to sleep. And Brandon and I are both realizing that there is no television program worth more than going to bed early and catching a few extra hours of sleep—that's what Hulu.com is for. ;)

This new life is also teaching me a lot about patience, about mindfulness in practice. I have to remind myself sometimes when she's fussy and needs all my attention that there is nowhere else I need to be, nothing else I need to be doing. This is the reason I'm on maternity leave, the reason I stockpiled meals in the freezer. If I don't make it to the grocery store, Brandon can go later. If I don't manage to get us all out for a walk today, we can go another day. If the floor doesn't get swept or the laundry folded, they will still be there tomorrow. This time is about slowing down, living fully in each moment, trying not to over-think or second guess myself.

I read something once about children being the perfect zen teachers and that motherhood is a spiritual practice. I think it couldn't be more true. Every step I take rocking her to sleep is a step on my pilgrimage; every hour spent awake while I feed her in the dark of night is an opportunity for meditation and contemplation. I already know that Devyn is going to teach me so much, if I will only slow down and listen. The creases of her fingers are the lines of my zen rock garden; the whorls in her hair my mandala; each of her breaths my prayer beads. She is my path to enlightenment, if I am meant to have one at all; she is my road to peace.

17 Days Old: Questions

how is your BABY??? how is being a mommy? is your mind boggled? are you grossed out? what? do you recommend it? i could use some recommendations. :)
–from an email from a friend

Baby is awesome! She's so amazing. I find myself just staring at her a lot. ;) And being a mommy is mostly awesome, although sometimes it is really hard. I've still got the crazy hormones going on, so sometimes I just break down and cry because she is crying! But most of the time, I love it. And yes, my mind is totally boggled. Brandon and I both sometimes look at her and are just like, "We have a DAUGHTER. How weird is that????"

Giving birth was pretty gross. Poopy diapers are kinda gross. Her umbilical cord stump that only PARTIALLY fell off and is now oozing? VERY GROSS. But somehow it doesn't seem to matter too much. We were at the photographer last week, and I was trying to get her calm for the photos, so I went upstairs to the photographer's little boy's room to nurse. We had gotten her naked for one of the photos, so I had her sort of half wrapped in a blanket while she ate. And then? She had an EPIC poop all over my lap. I yelled for Brandon to bring me the baby bag, and while he was helping me clean up, she did it AGAIN. All we could do was laugh.

Nursing hurts like a bitch. Everybody said it would, and it does. But everybody also says it starts to get better around week three, so I am crossing my fingers for that. Labor hurts like a bitch. Pushing hurts like a bitch and was super scary to me. I had three tears, and those hurt, and the stitches are uncomfortable. But I got through all of it. It didn't kill me. :) I guess my body actually does know what it's doing.

I guess my answer is that looking into this tiny person's eyes, all the negative stuff was worth it. I don't know if we'll have any more, but if I had to make the choice again to get this little person, I would absolutely do it. In a heartbeat. Does that answer your questions? ;)

April is poetry month

Lies I've Told My 3 Year Old Recently

Trees talk to each other at night.
All fish are named either Lorna or Jack.
Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose.
Tiny bears live in drain pipes.
If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.
The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago.
Everyone knows at least one secret language.
When nobody is looking, I can fly.
We are all held together by invisible threads.
Books get lonely too.
Sadness can be eaten.
I will always be there.

~Raul Gutierrez

Bold and True: The Island of Misfit Toys is a Horror Story

(My friend Anne has put out a call for bloggers to be bold and true with their posts every Monday. I don't stick to it religiously, but I do sometimes get inspired.)



I cannot abide the thought of discarded toys—not board games and action figures, but dolls and stuffed animals. I have to hurry past bins of them at thrift stores and garage sales. I get a little misty thinking about my own lost friends of childhood.

And I get positively weepy at the thought of Bean outgrowing her inanimate friends—in fact, I need to stop that line of thinking right now—and she hasn't even met them yet.

I cannot even begin to explain why I have such an emotional attachment to these things, but I do. The less commercial the item, the harder it is for me to imagine someone wanting to part with it.

And I will tell you, unequivocally, that when I discovered that Brandon still had a stuffed bear and stuffed Gizmo from his childhood, it was just one more indication that I had found my soul mate.