Christmas 2011

My post Christmas vacation started with a trip to the ER because Steve woke me up at 1:30 am telling me he had chest pains.

Needless to say, it's been a long day.

Christmas itself was lovely. We had both families over for Christmas Eve and it was a wonderfully loud, chaotic, enjoyable night. Thomas was thoroughly spoiled and so over stimulated. Christmas day was low key, just my parents and sister, with a nice roast beef dinner and no nap for Thomas. He collapsed at ten of eight, early for him, and the rest of us didn't make it much longer. His favorite gifts were his fire truck, his trains, and his wheelies ramp. My favorite gift is the laptop I'm using right now to type this. Best. Husband. Ever.

Who woke me up this morning at 1:30 am to tell me his hands and feet were numb and his chest was tight. We tossed the baby monitor at my sister and went to the hospital. They sent me home at 3 am after he'd been pain free for forty five minutes, but he had to stay for more tests. He was released this morning and the doctor assured us he's heart problem free. It was probably indigestion complicated by an anxiety attack. Steve's uncle died last January of a heart attack, very suddenly. It has made him anxious about his health in a way his parents' cancers haven't. The two of us have been exhausted all day, but thankfully Thomas has been low key today, wanting nothing more than to watch Follow That Bird, read books, and play with his trains and ramp and fire trucks.

I could have lived without the drama. We were supposed to take T to the aquarium and then go to a movie tonight, but we're too tired. So we'll do the aquarium tomorrow, but I doubt we'll catch a movie. Which sucks, because we really need a date night.

Where To Start?

Really? Has it been nearly a year since I updated this thing? How odd. Time moves so differently these days since I had my sweet little boy. Who was really not so sweet today as it's been temper tantrum central around here. One massive meltdown this morning because Steve (formally known as Omar) made him wear a coat and one this evening because I had the audacity to ask him to come down the stairs instead of laying down on the landing.

I've decided to drop the pseudonyms. I was trying to protect the guilty, but whatever. I don't have the energy any more to try and be clever. I'm a working mom with three full-time jobs: mom, wife, corporate slave. Actually, I can't complain. My job's going really well right now and I'm doing well at it. I don't feel quite as hopeless about job advancement as I did a year ago and I know I'm doing good work.

Thomas - or Super Toddler as I refer to him on Facebook - is pretty much the awesomest thing ever. Temper tantrums and all he's still totally the best. He has such a sweet, sunny disposition and he plays so well with other kids. He's gotten into some awful habits about food - as in he refuses to eat the dinner put in from of him - but I'm hoping that once my kitchen is put back together I'll be able to get him back on track.

I am currently in kitchen renovation hell. We started over a month ago and it's still not fucking done. I can't even talk about it, I'm so incensed. Our contractor, who came so highly recommended from IKEA, is AWFUL. As soon as he's done, I'm writing a negative review on yelp or whatever I can of him. AWFUL. I've had my appliances for a week, but I can't use them because I still don't have a faucet or a water line to my fridge for my new ice maker. It's been one nightmare delay after another and I can't even talk about how much I hate them. But my new kitchen is fabulous. It is going to be beautiful once I get it all set up again. If that day ever comes.

Thomas is 2 now and he is smart, observant, tall, and the most wonderful thing I have ever done. I don't know how I got so lucky. He's not perfect - his Elmo obsession leaves me with a headache most days - but he's so much fun. I can't get enough of spending time with him. We play trucks and trains and we read books and play outside and he has such a sweet little laugh when I tickle him. He loves lawnmowers and vacuum cleaners and hockey. Except for the Elmo thing, I can't think of one thing I don't love to do with him.

My beloved Red Sox collapsed so spectacularly in September that I can't even stand to talk about it. Terry Francona is gone, Theo Epstein is gone, but John EFFING Lackey is still here (so far). They were so awful this September I couldn't bring myself to sit through a full game. It was just painful. Now with the allegations of drinking and lack of training and the general clubhouse shenanigans I feel sick about them. It makes me angry to see how a team with so much talent fell apart so completely. I will never give up on them, of course, but I think I need a break from them. Steve got me into hockey last year, so we've been watching the Bruins.

Hopefully, I'll be able to update more. I've decided to put myself through the hell that's NaNoWriMo, so we'll see how that goes.

Things That I Am Thankful For

Even though Thanksgiving was yesterday, I have many reasons to be grateful, beginning with:

1. My family.
My son brings me such incredible joy and I didn't know you could love someone so much. My husband is an amazing person, a wonderful partner and a fantastic daddy. I am so blessed to have them. My parents, my sister, my extended family - they always bring me up from my lows and make me feel special.

2. My friends.
I have the greatest and most wonderful network of the most diverse group of people I can call friends. I love that no matter how much time has passed I can pick up the phone or shoot out an email and it's like we're just picking up where we left off the day before.

3. My job.
I don't love my job, but I'm grateful to have one at all.

4. My health.

5. Chocolate and alcohol.
One could not survive any of the above without those. Even the things you're thankful can make you crazy sometimes.

A Time for Remembrance

Today is the ninth anniversary of 9/11. The question everyone always asks is, "Where were you? What were you doing?" etc. when you the planes hit the towers. I always find that question to be weird. Of course people are going to remember where they were, who they were with, what they were doing. It's the single most defining point of this country's modern history.

Today is not just a day to mourn, although of course that's what we do today. Today should also be day to remember and celebrate. Celebrate and remember the people who died, the heroes who rose, and the stories of everyone affected by today. But it's also a day to celebrate your own life and remember the small things. I took my son to the park today and pushed him on the swings. I made a memory today that won't hurt to look on back on.

I think if everyone did that today they'd be honoring the victims and survivors of 9/11 just as well as any ceremony.

It Goes On

Sometimes, as a parent, I feel time moving in a very different way than I did before Baby Starr was born. For one thing, it seems to go so much quicker and so much slower in different ways.

Baby is almost 13 months old now. He is toddling - sort of, it's like four or five steps, fall down, back up again for seven steps, flat on his rear - around the house and crawling faster than the speed of light. He is everywhere all at once and nothing really contains him or stops him. He'll crawl over something to get where he wants to be.

It seems like a week ago that he was born. I look at him now and I barely recognize that teeny tiny baby I brought home. He is full of energy, full of noise, full of giggles. He's thirty inches tall, weighs twenty four pounds, and eats like a horse. He loves music and weather reports on tv, books of all kinds, and anything with buttons. He adores Daddy, loves Mommy, and tolerates everyone else with such a sweet disposition.

But everything else in life just moves so much slower. Work days drag, car rides seem longer, everything just seems to be moving at this glacial pace that makes me so impatient. But the days speed by and every one of them brings my baby so much further into life and away from babyhood. He needs a hair cut, but I won't let him have one. Once he gets a haircut, he'll be less like my baby and more like a little boy. I cried the day we bought him his first pair of sneakers and sobbed my way through Toys R Us to buy him his birthday gift. My baby is not really a baby anymore. He has definite opinions - carrots and chicken are good, Mr. Brown Can Moo Can You is excellent reading while Dr Seuss' Book of ABCs is not, milk can be cold but water had better be room temperature or else. He has a personality that is engaging and charming (and I am not saying that because I'm his mother. Everyone else tells me that [which kind of makes me wants to say "duh"]). He loves Elmo and has apparently inherited his aunt's horrific taste in music (once, in the car, he was screaming from deep unhappiness at having to be in said car and only stopped when that godawful Miley Cyrus crapfest Party in the USA came on and the little shit giggled). He has a best pal at school, an adorable little girl named Darien who is his bestie. He hates wearing hats and socks, is resigned to sneakers, and will eat sand if you don't watch him. Bath time is his favorite time of day (seriously. He LOVES the bathtub. When you strip him down and start walking down the hallway he starts to wiggle and squeal he gets so excited). If you say "arms up" while he's sitting on the changing table, he knows you're taking off his shirt and will put those arms up quite happily for you (probably because he thinks you're going to give him a bath). Every day is an adventure for him and for us, too.

It sounds so cliched, but it is so true: being a mother is the best, most rewarding thing I have ever done. I'm one of those annoying people who talks about their child endlessly. And I don't care. I don't understand why everybody doesn't find him as endlessly fascinating as I do. I often scorned those women, but now I get it.

That isn't to say that just because he's the center of my world, the rest of my world stopped. I still think going back to work was the best decision I made for myself and my family. I follow current events and sports and celebrity gossip just like I always have. I go out to dinner with friends every couple months or catch a movie (rarely) with Baby Sis or Omar. But my idea of a fun afternoon is a little different now. I still enjoy spending time at the mall and shopping, or reading a book cover to cover in one sitting, or watching a movie with a glass of wine. But if I have the choice of one of those things or taking Buddy (as Omar and I call him when he's not around) to the park for a picnic, the park wins hands down. He just makes me feel joyful.

Of course not all of it is smooth sailing. Teething sucks. Baby diarrhea sucks. Cleaning poop out of the bathtub sucks (although Omar's done that one because it makes me gag). The endless screaming and arching because he doesn't want to sit in a car seat/high chair/stroller sucks. He went through a phase where he let you know he was done eating by removing the food from his mouth and throwing it on the floor. He throws his sippy cup every chance he gets. He outgrows his clothes like crazy and I don't know what the hell they're doing at day care, but he always comes home absolutely covered in food (his clothes anyway). And the boogers? Oh my god, so gross and he never lets you wipe them. He's on Claritin for allergies already and he's only a year old. The ear infections are nerve wracking and hysteria inducing - for his parents. But for every pain in the ass thing about parenting, there is that moment when I walk into the room and his whole face lights up because he's happy to see me. For every screech and hair pull, there are the times when he snuggles into me because he wants comfort or a hug. For every item of outgrown clothing, there's a bigger little boy learning something new every day. His journey of discovery is just so incredible. All the wonderful things he's learning and doing and seeing - it's the most mystifying and miraculous thing I have ever seen.

Life is moving on and evolving and it is both the most wonderful and most terrifying thing I have ever seend.

Eight Months and Counting

So the Red Sox are back in play and my team is already beset by controversy and disappointment. The way the Sox treated Mike Lowell was appalling; there was no dignity in that. I know it's a business and I know that he knows it too, but there's still something so awful about it. They're benching a guy who makes more than some of the starting players because he slowed down in the field. I think he showed last season his bat was still in good shape. As much as I love Papi, he's not the same guy. Split the DHing duties until you trade Lowell. Honestly.

Baby Starr is almost eight months old. He is awesome. Without question. He's such a smiley, happy kid. He's rolling over, scooting around, grabbing at things. He's so, so close to crawling. I'm scared he'll do it for the first time at daycare and I'll miss it.

I weaned him at seven months and he eats more solids than he does formula at this point. His appetite is seemingly neverending. He's such a little ham, too. He sees the camera and breaks into a great big grin. He's just such a great kid and I feel so lucky to know him let alone be his mother. Watching him learn and figure things out and try things for the first time is so amazing.

Long Time Gone

I wish I could explain the awesomeness and terror of motherhood in words that don't make me sound like a moron.

Baby Starr is four and a half months old now and snoring away in his swing. He has a cold, which he kindly passed on to everyone in the house. Fortunately, I did not get it as badly as Omar and Baby Sis did. I can't take anything for it because I'm still breastfeeding, so I was really lucky not to be as sick as they were.

We brought Baby home from the hospital in the middle of an August heatwave. It was so hot we just let him hang out in a diaper. Now, it's January and we have him bundled up all the time. It seems weird so much time has passed. I look at pictures of him from the hospital, through September and October and then look at him now and I'm all, "Where is that scrawny little red thing I brought home?"

Breastfeeding alone was not giving him a big enough weight gain, even though it felt like he was eating every two hours for an hour at a time. We started supplementing him with formula and it was amazing how fast he packed on the pounds. He's still not big (my friend's son who is ten weeks younger actually weighed more than Baby Starr does now at the son's three month checkup and I know she's just breastfeeding), but the doctor doesn't think he ever will be. Omar and I are not tall people, so Baby Starr probably won't be either. He's over thirteen pounds now and all my friends' kids who are younger seem to be bigger than that.

He's still breastfeeding but I'm not as uptight about it as I was. At first, when they told me he wasn't gaining enough weight, I felt like it was my fault. And I worked really hard to get him to gain weight. I pumped after every feeding to increase my milk production, I drank this foul tea that was reported to increase milk, I nursed him every three hours like clockwork. But he still wasn't gaining enough so we started adding a few ounces of formula to every feeding and now, I have to admit, he's doing much better. He's fuller, he's sleeping better, he's much more lively.

He's also fun. He just laughed for the first time on New Year's Eve. He smiles and grabs at things and he loves to watch lights and tv screens and shiny things, which has made jewelry a challenge so I stopped wearing it at home. His new favorite thing to do is grab my finger, stick it in his mouth, rub it on his tongue, then push my finger out again before he starts it all over again. I think he's ready to start teething because he's a drool monster. He still hasn't rolled over yet, but I feel like he's getting there. He used to lay on my chest all the time and now when I put him there, he starts trying to roll over because that's what he does when he's on his tummy.

He likes it when we sing to him; his favorite for awhile - I kid you not here - was the theme song from the Batman tv show. Except when you're supposed to say Batman we would say, "Thomas!" He has these gorgeous blue eyes and the widest smile you've ever seen. He is just the happiest baby ever and I miss him so much when I'm at work I can't stand it.

I went back to work at the beginning of December and it's still weird to be there and not home with T. We were home together for nearly four months and we had a pretty good time. It is exhausting, though, to take care of him by myself for ten hours a day with no help and oftentimes no shower, no food breaks, and no naps for him or me. He would have these days where he just didn't want to be put down and those were always tough. There were some days I wouldn't even get a break to eat until three or four and by then I was so drained, physically and emotionally, I would just grab the first thing I could get my hands on. So even though most, if not all, my baby weight came off in the first three weeks (thank you, breastfeeding!), I gained back a little of it and am ridiculously out of shape. None of my pre-baby clothes fit and that's been hard to handle.

But it's a new year. I'm going back on Weight Watchers, will work out with my Wii Fit and once the weather stops sucking will go for walks with T. at night. Right now, though, I pick him up from daycare and the two of us just snuggle on the couch until Omar gets home and our whole night is about him and spending time with him. Weekends are my favorite because he's all mine and I don't have to give him over to anyone.

So even though it's been months since I sat down to catalogue my life here, it feels like hours. He's growing so quickly and he's so different now from what he was. He's truly the best part of my life and I did not know that the amount of love you feel for one person could increase day after day.

He'll be five months old in two weeks and that to me is the most bizarre thing in the world. Where did five months go? I waited so long for him, then the pregnancy just flew by. A year ago today, we were still reveling in the fact we were expecting him! Then it was suddenly August and there he was. I thought my maternity leave would feel longer, but nope. One minute I'm sitting on the couch watching TNT's daytime lineup, the next I'm back at work anxiously calling daycare to check on him. And I don't know where that time went at all.