day one

just got back from my annual beach trip, and i have been so inspired by my ladies that operation baby fat is in effect. for three weeks i am going to:
-cut out sugar
-cut out processed crap
-reduce carbs (esp after 3 pm--i was going to cut them out entirely after 3 pm, but i am concerned about milk supply issues)
-increase water
-control portions
-exercise hardcore 5 times a week

the idea is that this will become a habit. today was day one. exercised very strenuously at mccarren park and almost bit the dust. plus, i think i am detoxifying from my sins of overindulgence at the beach, so i have been a little headachy. still, it's the Right Thing To Do no matter how crappy my out of shape butt feels at the moment. i am really tired of looking and feeling schlumpy. plus, i need to take advantage of the tail-end of my breast feeding metabolic boost!

in max news, the boy is waving. it is just the cutest thing. he looks like his tiny little hand is milking a cow, and it cracks me up. i missed him on my first trip without baby, but not so much that i didn't have a fantastic time. so glad we have reached this point-- i never thought we would. beaching it with the girls always feels a bit like a new year to me, with resolutions and a sense of renewal and possibility. puts me in the mind of the zombies song:

"this will be our year
took a long time to come."

two chest pats and a fist extended to katherine. you're my girl. xo

learning

the professional implanted this nugget into my seeping brain last week, and i hope it's there to stay.

judgement.

when we judge, we tend to cut others very little slack, yet we give ourselves a lot more leeway for similar transgressions (or so sayeth the professional).

he's right, of course.

how i hold on. and on. and on. i hold a grudge with the best of them, and i am not really sure where it gets me. does it ensure that i will not be hurt again? of course not. and even if it did, would it be worth the energy that it takes to keep track?

how many times have i had a slip of the tongue, inserted foot into mouth, or just been plain old mean? how many times have i blamed it on low blood sugar pms exhaustion anger annoyance hurt feelings (and hurting back) stress hormones lack of sleep

you name it.

so i move on, forgiving myself and knowing that "i didn't mean it".

i need to be this way with the other people in my life. we are none of us perfect and i really do wonder where my impossible standards come from?

california dreamin'

it is simply PATHETIC, my lack of blogging. it feels like so much has happened over the last month! most importantly, i have found my self again. just typing that sentence gave me pause: am i being all "bad mama" by saying that something about ME is "most important"? no. this-- my state of being-- is important. it is critical. i am no good to max or anyone else for that matter if i am all scrambled up in my own head.

we are in L.A, right now, as bdub is playing drums for mandy moore on the tonight show this evening. yes--mandy moore, the pop princess of the britney/x-tina/jessica simpson class of the late nineties. mandy is, of course, all grown up and trying to go in a new direction and all that jazz, but it sounds silly and defensive to even write that so i will just let it be what it is: a pop thing. with a really nice girl. on national tv. an american institution. tonight!

i am so proud of my bdub. he works tirelessly on his craft, and this marks a big milestone for him.

too much other stuff to catch up on in one post: we moved (goodbye, 92 hawthorne!), the boy is eating solids with gusto, and life is good. pictures to come.

it's a new dawn, a new day, a new life for me...

...and i'm feeling....good?

yeah. maybe i am. it's about f@&#ing time.

my boy is six months old. whatta guy. here is a brief list of his likes and dislikes:

max morgan wolfe likes:
cuddles
being "surprised" (with a "boo!" or rolling one's "r"'s, or "motorboating")
the biscuit
bouncing
sucking face (literally)
music
beats
infant tylenol
putting anything and everything in his mouth


dislikes:
teething
bedtime
the inability to control his own body temperature (thus, his latest nickname "sweaty head")

and that's about it as far as the "dislikes" go. this guy is happy as a clam 99.9% of the time.

lucky, lucky, LUCKY me. for reals. and i will stop now thus i nauseate the reader with my crushing, sloppy, sickly sweet love for this little person.

five something months

and i still don't recognize this person. not max-- max is max, an adorable creature who is wholly himself, replete with his own distinct giggle, voice, dimples, and tiny little fingernails that can pinch and scratch the living hell out of you.

i am talking about me. i don't know where i got the idea that growing a whole other person would not leave any physical, mental, or emotional scars. i look at my doughy belly, my saggy boobs spouting off (and i used to really love my boobs. really), and i don't recognize myself. i don't know why i thought something magical would happen to me at six weeks out, three months out...like i would be able to have sex and exercise all the time, and therefore would turn into some work-out crazed body-building nympho with a never-ending supply of energy (and milk, for that matter).

it's frustrating. not even so much to me, as to the people around me, i'm sure. like bdub. i find us in this cycle of bad day--then good day--then rolling with the "good day" which turns into, "so now that you're feeling better, let's go do something completely anxiety-producing to 'get you out there'"--which turns into "i feel pushed"--must retreat--i wish i didn't have to retreat--i feel bad about that--bad day...you get the idea (i hope).

i feel like i don't have any reserves left...of patience, of emotional stability, of sleep. i am tapped out, and i am afraid that anyone except for those who are the absolute closest people to me do not understand this. after all, it's been five months, and so what the hell is my problem, anyway?

much love to ya

how do i love thee?

my bdub
-do you know what it does to a woman to anticipate a greasy, sticky, enchilada-y mess in the kitchen, only to walk in there and find the dishes done, the stove wiped, the ingredients put away and the pan soaking in soapy water? you rule.
-thank you for being patient with my neuroses. and for being so kind to me, even when i don't deserve it.
-you rule for being forthright with the Professional. i appreciate that you are 100% committed to us.
-the late night/early morning feeding. have i mentioned that you rule?
-you are so cute when you come to work with max.
-you are so good with everything you do with the boy, for that matter.
-thank you for working hard to take care of us (even the poopy work).
-thanks for cracking me up on a daily basis, several times a day.

my boy
-i love you: your milky smiles and gummy grins, your tiny hand clutching me, your coos... irresistible.
-how did i get such a good sleeper?
-thank you for minimally fussing. really.
-you are so much fun! thanks for proving to me that this does just get better and better.

lil' hug

isn't it amazing how the tiniest detail can spark a memory?

i was strolling with max during yesterday's unseasonably gorgeous afternoon, when i spied an empty little hug container on the ground (i have recently found out that these are also referred to as "quarter water" in some parts. these were never more that a dime when i was little....i am old).

i was immediately reminded of trips to the grocery store with my dad, and the bribes he would use to get me to go: little hugs. i got a little hug upon completion of our trip (either to Kroger or Super Cheap, the other grocery store in our part of morgantown at the time). it occurred to my 35 year old self that despite years of believing that my dad really, really wanted my company (sometimes he would practically BEG me to go with him)....perhaps he was just getting me out of my mom's hair for a while? after all, i am one of five.

so i sent him this email:

subject:
quick question

hi dad,
something occurred to me today that i had to ask you about:

when i was little and you used to bribe me with a little hug (remember those?) to go to the grocery store with you, was it because you really wanted the company or because you wanted to do mom and favor and give her a break?

it's ok if it's the latter, of course, because i always only thought the former and never suspected otherwise until today. i guess that is what being a parent does to you. :)

so anyway, job well done (but please do answer me honestly).

xo
nowlzie

and here is my dad's reply:

Interesting question, Noe. It was a little of both, but mainly because I wanted you to tag along. As I recall the bribe sometimes went beyond a hug to a candy bar.
Thanks for the wonderful memories. It made me misty.
dad

favorite things: new mama edition

in the same vein as last year's favorite things post (ala oprah), i give you the new mama edition! these are a few of my favorite things which i could not have lived without during the first few months of new motherhood, many of which i never would have suspected would become so indispensable.

the happiest baby on the block dvd (harvey karp)



ah yes, the five s's: swaddle, side, suck, swing, shhh. it's hard to know what to do as a new parent of a screaming babe! at the first viewing of this dvd, bdub started to cry. he felt so empowered. best of all, the techniques work! i think an amazing baby gift would be a copy of this dvd, a swaddle blanket (see next item) and a couple of pacifiers (see item after next).


the miracle blanket



organic cotton. no snaps, pins, velcro, nothing. simply the best (though i also really like the stretchy swaddle blankets, too). as an aside, doesn't the baby in the above photo look just like max?


soothies pacifiers



accept no imitations. these do tend to take some getting used to, appearance-wise. since you can see into the baby's little mouth, bdub claims that they kind of look like something out of a marilyn manson video when in use.


sophie the giraffe




the french classic. here is what ecobabygear.com has to say about sophie:

"Sophie the Giraffe, full of discoveries and activities to awaken baby’s senses!

Sight: The dark and contrasting spots all over Sophie the Giraffe’s body provide visual stimulation and make her easily recognizable to baby. She soon becomes a familiar and reassuring objet.

Hearing: Her squeaker keeps baby amused, stimulates his hearings, and helps him to understand the link between cause and effect.

Taste: Sophie the Giraffe is very flexible and has lots of parts for baby to chew (ears, horns, legs). She is perfect for soothing baby’s sore gums when teething and is completely safe. Made of 100% natural rubber and food paint.

Touch: Sophie the Giraffe is perfect for baby’s small hands. She is very light and her long legs and neck are easy for baby to grip. She is very soft to touch, just like baby’s mummy, stimulating soothing physiological and emotional responses.

Smell: The singular scent of natural rubber (from Hevea tree) makes Sophie the Giraffe very special and easy for your child to identify amid all his other toys. "


cotton zip up pajamas



so great when it's the 3 am diaper change and you don't have to fasten a million snaps. surprisingly hard to find, especially in cotton (we avoid fleece; as our friend mags warned, "nowlze, it's a pressure cooker.")


jj cole pacifier pod



such a simple thing: a little purse for your pacifiers! just the right size to hold two. keeps 'em clean and velcro's to any bag.


clip-on mobile



this has also been a lifesaver. clips to the shelves that hang over the changing table for diaper changing distraction. clips to the side of the crib, to the car seat, to wherever! max loves this thing and rarely fusses when he has his diaper changed.


mustela products



i got tons of this stuff as shower gifts, and i will use every last drop of it all. the foam shampoo for cradle cap is fantastic. the diaper cream is super-concentrated, and the lotion is heavenly. the entire line smells incredible: light, yet blends well with that perfect, natural baby head smell.


bebe au lait nursing cover



i resisted buying this for a long time. i mean, i should be able to nurse wherever, whenever, right?! other peoples' comfort be damned! that may be all well and good in theory, but there are certain times and places where popping out my 40 DD's (yes, that's what i am rockin' these days, lord help me) is less than ideal. like in therapy. or when i go to hear bdub play at church. church and boobs just don't mix. the bebe au lait is a necessary evil, and i am always happy to have it when i need it.


american apparel hoodies and onesies



finding plain, unadultered clothing in solid colors is nearly impossible. thank god for american apparel. great colors, nice cotton, sweatshop-free. plus, max and his dad can match! cute!


diapers.com



several friends recommended diapers.com to me, and young grasshopper that i am, i have passed on the rec. to other new moms. diapers.com rules. they have free shipping over $49, their diapers arrive in two days or less, and they are WAY cheaper than anywhere else. they don't just sell diapers, either. they sell EVERYTHING. in fact, i'd bet you could probably find every item of my favorite things on that website! you also get credit when you recommend people, so if any of you dear readers decide to order from them, tell 'em nowlze sent you.

THIS is it

finally, i can put into words what it is i am missing....the missing piece that has been plaguing me, even as i emerge lil' bit by lil' bit from my fragile bluebird-like shell.

i miss being carefree. even in my pre-babe bleak days of depression, i still was never a worrier. maybe i was ho-hum, but i was still ho-hum on the fancy-free side of things, if that makes any sense. i guess what i am trying to say is that my dreary days were more "fuck it" than "omg, i am totally worried about the state of things and therefore depressed".

but here i am, worried about the state of things. aside from a constant, nagging worry that i may be screwing up a fresh as snow little person who is thus far perfection, i am finding myself to be worried about the other stuff: the small stuff and the big stuff. regretting decisions made. wishing i had behaved differently. rationalizing. tangentializing (if that's even a word...). wishing away feelings, wishing away parts of my self. swamped with anxiety (ok...so maybe not swamped for the most part any more. but more often than not, feeling a little too overwhelmed to truly enjoy the moment).

and even when i am less-than-worried, i still can't seem to get a grip enough to be that carefree girl. and i loved that girl. i loved holding hands in the city, popping into this store or that cafe, hopping on and off of the train, not a care in the world. i long to be that girl again, with stroller and babe in tow this time, but i can't seem to get a foothold on that feeling again. what's missing? why is everything a minefield? an obstacle? something not to be dealt with (because i feel, maybe, that if i have to "deal" with one more thing i will just lose it, for real)?

what is the cure for this? time? i ask the mamas out there: do you ever feel truly carefree?

small victory II

the zen buddhists believe (or so i have been told) that one cannot multitask; that multitasking is, in effect, just trying to do several things at once and not giving your full attention to any of them...thus, doing them all badly. i tend to agree.

however, this morning i was forced to let out the biscuit and take care of baby simultaneously. baby who skipped his mid-morning nap. uncomfortable baby, red-faced crying baby who for some reason i chose to dress in a sweater vest and cords, complete with belt (??).

step one was to stick crying baby in crib, slip on my boots, and fetch the biscuit, who was collared and leashed. red-faced baby was changed out of ridiculous get-up and slung to mama in his pouch. i tried several futile attempts to select an item of outerwear that would be able to zip over both myself and the pouch of slung baby, but to no avail. i then unslung screaming babe, stuck a hoodie on him as gingerly as i could, re-slung baby, grabbed the essentials (umbrella, keys, cell phone) and headed out the door.

the biscuit skipped through the slushy puddles, the baby hushed himself, and all seemed right with the world. that is, until the biscuit had to go #2. i let him into our mess of a front yard (his pooping domain), where he walked around quite a bit before finding a suitable spot. and then, one of the worst possible scenarios occurred: the biscuit had a hanger-on. (how can i put this delicately? sometimes the biscuit ingests too many of my stray hairs--by accident, of course-- and tends to have some poops that literally hang on by a thread). by the grace of god, i had a plastic bag in my pocket.

the boy and i entered the yard, nearly slipped several times, and bent down to break the biscuit free of his hairy predicament. baby clung closely to me, closer than the hairs clung to the biscuit: i set him free and once again, all is well in wolfeinelli land. i am considering penning a letter to the makers of the kangaroo korner adjustable fleece pouch, letting them know how well their product performed under the pressure of these adverse conditions.

small victories

first of all, how awesome is our new president? i am so inspired.

more personally speaking, i found the following blog-worthy: the other day, i ate pasta (fettucini, to be exact, which requires twirling) with my non-dominant hand. while breast feeding. i spilled not a drop on maximillian. now that's progress in my book.

here is max, obamacized:

we've got giggles, people

intoxicating...

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.

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)

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. "

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.

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:

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

the promise

i wish i could remember the exact date; let's say some time a couple of weeks ago. i looked upon him and promised him that i would never put my own shit upon him, never make him responsible for dealing with my shit. never lay by burdens on him and reverse the crucial roles of parent and child. love him fiercely. allow him to make his own mistakes, to fall down and get back up, to let go, loosen the strings and seek, find, love.

on motherhood

as i lie with babe beside me in his bassinet, i pray for sleep...for it to wash over me. for now i sleep with one eye open, ear to the cradle, brain prattling off the SIDS checklist, trying to reassure me that he is safe (no loose bedding, on his back, plenty of air circulation)... and as i ponder this loss--the loss of sleep and the fear of ultimate loss-- i think of my more selfish loss, too.

it is amazing how pregnancy prepares us for this sacrificial loss. i feel like for the better part of a year my body has been training me for loss. and here he is. and with every wave of emotion that rushes over me, every intense morsel of lovey goodness, the tide seems to take a little piece of the old me back with it. the girl (and yes, even a thirty-four i would still tend to view myself as a warped seventeen year old, a little reckless, a girl who would hoard love) without so many cares, whose life she had designed as such that she could go out on a figurative school night without fearing how she would feel in the morning...

love is funny this way. try as i might, i find it impossible to focus on the now, without looking to the past, to what i could have been until now, to how i could have loved my own mother more (as she made her way to the terminal i could think only of her sacrifice, and of the hundreds of times i had disappointed her or not loved her back). i think of the future: will he ever need me as much as he needs me now? will he ever know this love i have for him? should he?