i realized just now as i was rocking him that i would do every second of this again for one more whiff of that baby head smell.
i have told my friend deej, purveyor of the bubble roome line of bath and body products, that if he could bottle that smell and capture its likeness in a soap or body butter, he'd be a gajillionaire. in fact, i am shocked that demeter hasn't added the scent to its fragrance library.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
so this is christmas--i hope you had fun
a big realization yesterday--
prompted by my last blog post, which left me feeling confused and with the dilemma as to whether or not i should take it down. i spoke with bdub about it and he asked me some very important questions:
why did you write it?
will it help someone else?
will it hurt anyone's feelings?
i wrote it to purge, to examine, to be honest.
i think it could help someone else, because it seems that new motherhood is supposed to be met with all sunshine and lollipops, and while max is my sunshine (especially these days), a lot of what surrounds me feels very gray. i don't think i am alone in that. i know it helps me when i get encouragement from others that they went or are going through the same thing.
it might hurt somebody's feelings.
then we talked about personal responsibility, and how it really bothers me when people don't take responsibility for themselves. and what i realized is that if i have felt isolated, then a large part of that is on my shoulders, whether i am in a place emotionally to deal with it or not. yes, i am fragile. yes, i am emotional and i am harboring a lot of anger (and i don't know what is prompting that or where it is coming from). but i am the only person who can take responsibility for it.
a part of doing that was admitting to myself that what i am feeling is not situational. bdub is here, and not at gigs (and i won't be on my own with max for a long night in the near future). it is christmas and we are together. i love this boy, i love my husband. so why am i still crying? why is the celine dion christmas album blasting in front of the stop and shop and the poster of obama in a boxing ring knocking out john mccain that i pass on flatbush avenue bringing me to tears? (god, i have such a love-hate relationship with my neighborhood).
we talked in the car and we agreed that i don't have to go on medication if i don't want to (and i really, really don't want to), unless i truly believe that it would do me and max more good than harm. we are taking positive steps by seeing The Professional who is closely observing me and who really cares. bdub is here to catch me when i fall.
so off we went to deanie's for a holiday party, and i didn't know how to feel. deanie is my one true friend up here. seriously. and of my true, deep, would cut off my pinky for them friends, i think i have about five or six total (one is deanie, one is my husband, one is my sister, you get the idea...). the last thing on earth i wanted to do was fall apart and continue the trend for the day (blubbering heap in the corner) in a semi-public arena.
to my surprise, i reconnected with so many great peeps, some of them new parents, some of them more seasoned, some of them grandparents. one was right there with me (or a month ahead anyway, which was a treat to see). two were expecting their second babies. they told me things like:
"the first months with my daughter were the hardest thing i have ever gone through in my life." (katie, mother of stella, age 2)
"i feel like it took us about nine months to really get into a groove." (aaron, father to esme, almost 3)
"honey, the wistfulness will pass." (christine, mother to owen samuel danger, age 13 weeks and lucy)
"i don't remember a thing, just getting her up in the morning and taking her to art classes." (ted on his 30-something daughter julie, grandfather to matias, age 2) and in response, "yeah, that's because you didn't have to do anything." (his wife, cynthia)
and all of the young parents said the same thing to me, echoing their refrain:
"it gets easier, it gets easier, it gets easier...."
and i woke up this morning (despite another night of insomnia...i just wanted to hold max but i settled for being held by bdub), actually believing them.
"it gets easier." (noelle, mother to max, age 9.5 weeks)
prompted by my last blog post, which left me feeling confused and with the dilemma as to whether or not i should take it down. i spoke with bdub about it and he asked me some very important questions:
why did you write it?
will it help someone else?
will it hurt anyone's feelings?
i wrote it to purge, to examine, to be honest.
i think it could help someone else, because it seems that new motherhood is supposed to be met with all sunshine and lollipops, and while max is my sunshine (especially these days), a lot of what surrounds me feels very gray. i don't think i am alone in that. i know it helps me when i get encouragement from others that they went or are going through the same thing.
it might hurt somebody's feelings.
then we talked about personal responsibility, and how it really bothers me when people don't take responsibility for themselves. and what i realized is that if i have felt isolated, then a large part of that is on my shoulders, whether i am in a place emotionally to deal with it or not. yes, i am fragile. yes, i am emotional and i am harboring a lot of anger (and i don't know what is prompting that or where it is coming from). but i am the only person who can take responsibility for it.
a part of doing that was admitting to myself that what i am feeling is not situational. bdub is here, and not at gigs (and i won't be on my own with max for a long night in the near future). it is christmas and we are together. i love this boy, i love my husband. so why am i still crying? why is the celine dion christmas album blasting in front of the stop and shop and the poster of obama in a boxing ring knocking out john mccain that i pass on flatbush avenue bringing me to tears? (god, i have such a love-hate relationship with my neighborhood).
we talked in the car and we agreed that i don't have to go on medication if i don't want to (and i really, really don't want to), unless i truly believe that it would do me and max more good than harm. we are taking positive steps by seeing The Professional who is closely observing me and who really cares. bdub is here to catch me when i fall.
so off we went to deanie's for a holiday party, and i didn't know how to feel. deanie is my one true friend up here. seriously. and of my true, deep, would cut off my pinky for them friends, i think i have about five or six total (one is deanie, one is my husband, one is my sister, you get the idea...). the last thing on earth i wanted to do was fall apart and continue the trend for the day (blubbering heap in the corner) in a semi-public arena.
to my surprise, i reconnected with so many great peeps, some of them new parents, some of them more seasoned, some of them grandparents. one was right there with me (or a month ahead anyway, which was a treat to see). two were expecting their second babies. they told me things like:
"the first months with my daughter were the hardest thing i have ever gone through in my life." (katie, mother of stella, age 2)
"i feel like it took us about nine months to really get into a groove." (aaron, father to esme, almost 3)
"honey, the wistfulness will pass." (christine, mother to owen samuel danger, age 13 weeks and lucy)
"i don't remember a thing, just getting her up in the morning and taking her to art classes." (ted on his 30-something daughter julie, grandfather to matias, age 2) and in response, "yeah, that's because you didn't have to do anything." (his wife, cynthia)
and all of the young parents said the same thing to me, echoing their refrain:
"it gets easier, it gets easier, it gets easier...."
and i woke up this morning (despite another night of insomnia...i just wanted to hold max but i settled for being held by bdub), actually believing them.
"it gets easier." (noelle, mother to max, age 9.5 weeks)
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
on motherhood...the first two months
(author's note: despite my musings below, the worst is over for your misanthropic friend. no more lonely nights until at least the second week of january! we even have new year's eve off and the lovely mags --aka the TRUE baby whisperer-- swooping in to catch us all. and furthermore, the help i have had from the women who care about me has been a gift for my soul and i am grateful. we are blessed...but in the name of keeping it real, read below.)
this motherhood business is hard. i am over being too ashamed or embarrassed or afraid to admit that. in fact, i don't know how anyone does this. i look at other women i know, some of them who seem fragile as glass or like they could be knocked over with a feather, and they have all done this and seem happier and stronger for it, which just makes me wonder more, "then what the hell is wrong with me?"
the people who care about me, even The Professional whom i go to for guidance at $150 a pop, seem to think it is really important --critical, even-- that i ask for help and communicate what i need. since my head has been a-whirl with so many thoughts ("time to feed, time to diaper, time to take out the dog, time to pump, time to sleep, can't sleep") and so much rumination (last week the light bulb gleamed brightly as i discovered that i have been stringing together events, oversights, wrongs, misgivings...ruminating to such a degree that i have been creating my own narrative, or so sayeth The Professional...so at this point, i must even question, "what is real? was this how this really went down?"), asking for help hasn't been easy.
i ask for help in my nowlze way: "so, like, if you wanted to stop over or something...i mean, if you'll be around...feel free. of course, no big deal if you can't. it's cool. but if you just wanted to hang out or whatever, we'll be here...." not surprisingly, my method has proven ineffective. what i really need is this:
-consistent, reliable, no strings attached help when i need it, usually between the hours of four and ten, wherein i can make specific requests and not feel bad about it, ideally, from my husband who would --could?-- ideally work less at night for much, much more money (and for the sake of realness, he is a peach when he's around..it's that being around part and need to make a living that get in the way)
more specifically, i need:
-to pee
-to let out my dog
-to take a nap
-companionship
-to feel like myself
-to be invited to things i would have been invited to pre-baby, even if there is no way in hell i will be able to attend
-some healthy food, chock full of vitamin b and omega 3's and iron (which the midwife reminds me is low, and that i really need to be getting if i am breastfeeding, along with an extra 500 calories a day MORE than i ate when i was pregnant)...and which last i checked are not contained within the wheat thins, panda black licorice, macaroni and cheese in the blue box or even the four day's worth of defrosted lasagna that i have been shoveling down.
-a glass of water (supposedly 8 ounces at every feeding session--ha!), the remote, my phone, the computer, and a comfy pillow within my reach when i sit down to breast feed
-conversation free of problem solving about how i am not sleeping, the drama in west virginia, other moms who are doing great or have overcome unimaginable obstacles, like having twins, or how antidepressants are nothing to be ashamed of and that maybe i am just a little bit low in the seratonin department and that they won't affect my breast feeding
-an apartment next door for my mom
-another car, or even a reliable car service
-spring time
-to feel normal again, upbeat, positive, loving towards everyone in my life and not just max
-to be told, by anyone in my life, "i am coming over and picking you up and wrapping you up in my little wing. we are going to get you out of your house and take you to my house where you will eat and rest. when you have had enough, i am taking you home. i won't take "no" for an answer. and don't worry about the fucking car seat-- i will deal with it. and we will be traveling by car and i won't pressure you to take the subway since i know you aren't ready for that yet.
or, we can stay at your place and i will not look at you funny or get all quiet or act like it is not annoying when max cries. it's annoying. i will leave you alone or i will take him, whatever you want. and when you're in the bedroom with him, i will chill or do your dishes or take out the biscuit or make you some tea...but i won't abandon you. i will stay, even if i just sleep in the next room. you can shut the door, but you are not alone. "
this motherhood business is hard. i am over being too ashamed or embarrassed or afraid to admit that. in fact, i don't know how anyone does this. i look at other women i know, some of them who seem fragile as glass or like they could be knocked over with a feather, and they have all done this and seem happier and stronger for it, which just makes me wonder more, "then what the hell is wrong with me?"
the people who care about me, even The Professional whom i go to for guidance at $150 a pop, seem to think it is really important --critical, even-- that i ask for help and communicate what i need. since my head has been a-whirl with so many thoughts ("time to feed, time to diaper, time to take out the dog, time to pump, time to sleep, can't sleep") and so much rumination (last week the light bulb gleamed brightly as i discovered that i have been stringing together events, oversights, wrongs, misgivings...ruminating to such a degree that i have been creating my own narrative, or so sayeth The Professional...so at this point, i must even question, "what is real? was this how this really went down?"), asking for help hasn't been easy.
i ask for help in my nowlze way: "so, like, if you wanted to stop over or something...i mean, if you'll be around...feel free. of course, no big deal if you can't. it's cool. but if you just wanted to hang out or whatever, we'll be here...." not surprisingly, my method has proven ineffective. what i really need is this:
-consistent, reliable, no strings attached help when i need it, usually between the hours of four and ten, wherein i can make specific requests and not feel bad about it, ideally, from my husband who would --could?-- ideally work less at night for much, much more money (and for the sake of realness, he is a peach when he's around..it's that being around part and need to make a living that get in the way)
more specifically, i need:
-to pee
-to let out my dog
-to take a nap
-companionship
-to feel like myself
-to be invited to things i would have been invited to pre-baby, even if there is no way in hell i will be able to attend
-some healthy food, chock full of vitamin b and omega 3's and iron (which the midwife reminds me is low, and that i really need to be getting if i am breastfeeding, along with an extra 500 calories a day MORE than i ate when i was pregnant)...and which last i checked are not contained within the wheat thins, panda black licorice, macaroni and cheese in the blue box or even the four day's worth of defrosted lasagna that i have been shoveling down.
-a glass of water (supposedly 8 ounces at every feeding session--ha!), the remote, my phone, the computer, and a comfy pillow within my reach when i sit down to breast feed
-conversation free of problem solving about how i am not sleeping, the drama in west virginia, other moms who are doing great or have overcome unimaginable obstacles, like having twins, or how antidepressants are nothing to be ashamed of and that maybe i am just a little bit low in the seratonin department and that they won't affect my breast feeding
-an apartment next door for my mom
-another car, or even a reliable car service
-spring time
-to feel normal again, upbeat, positive, loving towards everyone in my life and not just max
-to be told, by anyone in my life, "i am coming over and picking you up and wrapping you up in my little wing. we are going to get you out of your house and take you to my house where you will eat and rest. when you have had enough, i am taking you home. i won't take "no" for an answer. and don't worry about the fucking car seat-- i will deal with it. and we will be traveling by car and i won't pressure you to take the subway since i know you aren't ready for that yet.
or, we can stay at your place and i will not look at you funny or get all quiet or act like it is not annoying when max cries. it's annoying. i will leave you alone or i will take him, whatever you want. and when you're in the bedroom with him, i will chill or do your dishes or take out the biscuit or make you some tea...but i won't abandon you. i will stay, even if i just sleep in the next room. you can shut the door, but you are not alone. "
Friday, December 19, 2008
24/7 realness
one of the most fascinating attributes of my son, max (now age 8 weeks, 4 days) is his propensity for complete and utter realness. an 8 1/2 week old does not know how to be fake, he cannot yet be coerced into pleasing us, he doesn't do stuff just to be cute.
i am finding, then, that the adorable coos that come right after he sneezes, the dimpled smiles that greet me in the morning, the velvet painted child's eyes that hold my gaze in love and wonderment....they've hooked me with their sincerity, grace, and truth. i'm done.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
a little holiday cheer from the lasters
nothing beats a hannah anderson package arriving in the mail, especially when it contains goodies for both babe and beast!
check it:
check it:
Monday, December 1, 2008
max's soundtrack - october - november 2008
are you alright?- lucinda williams- west
when i'm sixty four- the beatles- sgt pepper's lonely hearts club band
comin' in from the cold- bob marley and the wailers- uprising
tiny dancer- elton john- greatest hits
the tide is high- blondie- autoamerican
i'm sticking with you- the velvet underground (sung by mom)- vu
let's get it on (live version)- marvin gaye- marvin gaye live
abc- the jackson five- abc
(what a) wonderful world...- sam cooke- best of sam cooke
don't worry baby- the beach boys- sounds of summer
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