I wish I could be a kid again...not just for the whole not having any responsibilities, 3 months of time off in the summer, completely uninhibited thing, although all that would be nice.
I wish I could be a kid again just for all the excitement. My little boy gets excited by the smallest thing...a game of peek-a-boo makes him giggle all over himself, a lamp going on makes his eyes go wide, the mobile over his bed is totally new to him every morning. He approaches each day in a "Wow...I can't wait to see what today holds" kind of way. It's been a long time since I thought about life like that.
Most days are mundane: get up, guzzle down the coffee, begin a list of chores that seems to have no bottom, go to bed and then get up and do the same thing again.
But Alexander doesn't see life like that. Each morning, when I lift him out of his crib, he grins and coos at me as if to say, "Good morning, Mommy...today is going to be great!" And, for him, most days are great...he's fed, changed, bathed when he needs to be. He naps when he wants to. And he has many many people who just think his little hands hung the moon. So, so far, his life is just about perfect. And he's just happy...down in his gut, no holds-barred, can-hardly-contain- himself HAPPY.
But can I really complain? So, I'm not living a life of glamour. So, some days I feel frumpy and like the world is passing me by. So, I'll never perform on Broadway or live in Paris. In the grand scheme of life, do those things really matter? All my needs are met...I have food, clothing, shelter. I have a family and friends who love me. I have the ability to do all the things that I need to do. I've traveled and seen the world. And, now, I get to spend my days with my baby.
All-in-all, I have no right to complain. Funny that a 3-month old can teach you so much about contentment.
I guess tomorrow morning, I'll try to wake up and say, "Good morning, world...today is going to be great!"
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
My Baby
My baby is growing up too fast.
He’s already 3 ½ months old and I can’t believe the time is going by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday that we were strapping him into his car seat for the ride home from the hospital. He was so tiny…just 7 lbs when we got home and it took no effort at all to hold him. Rocking him to sleep felt like rocking a little puff of air, he was so light
Now, I look at my strapping boy…he’s pushing 20 lbs, is almost 2 feet long, and so strong that it takes all my strength to keep him from leaping out of my arms. Already, he’s got the itch to move, to explore, to go. And every night when I rock him to sleep, I know that one night, it will be the last time. One night he will tell me that he’s a big boy and he doesn’t need me to rock him. It breaks my heart.
It’s so unfair that those first days at home are such a blur for the mommy…I was still so doped up and in pain from having him and walking around in a daze that I only vaguely remember our first days out of the hospital. Everyone else got to savor and enjoy them. I was just trying to remember if I had had the presence of mind to take a shower or eat that day.
So, now, as I sit in my rocking chair with the night light glowing and lullabies playing softly, I hold my baby close. I smell his hair. I kiss his cheek. I marvel at the small perfection of his hands. And I savor him and try to engrave those moments on my heart so that one day, when he is a big boy, I can really remember what it was like to be the center of his world. And, hopefully, understand that even if he thinks he doesn’t need me to rock him to sleep, he will always need me to be his mom.
He’s already 3 ½ months old and I can’t believe the time is going by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday that we were strapping him into his car seat for the ride home from the hospital. He was so tiny…just 7 lbs when we got home and it took no effort at all to hold him. Rocking him to sleep felt like rocking a little puff of air, he was so light
Now, I look at my strapping boy…he’s pushing 20 lbs, is almost 2 feet long, and so strong that it takes all my strength to keep him from leaping out of my arms. Already, he’s got the itch to move, to explore, to go. And every night when I rock him to sleep, I know that one night, it will be the last time. One night he will tell me that he’s a big boy and he doesn’t need me to rock him. It breaks my heart.
It’s so unfair that those first days at home are such a blur for the mommy…I was still so doped up and in pain from having him and walking around in a daze that I only vaguely remember our first days out of the hospital. Everyone else got to savor and enjoy them. I was just trying to remember if I had had the presence of mind to take a shower or eat that day.
So, now, as I sit in my rocking chair with the night light glowing and lullabies playing softly, I hold my baby close. I smell his hair. I kiss his cheek. I marvel at the small perfection of his hands. And I savor him and try to engrave those moments on my heart so that one day, when he is a big boy, I can really remember what it was like to be the center of his world. And, hopefully, understand that even if he thinks he doesn’t need me to rock him to sleep, he will always need me to be his mom.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Magic of Frank
My son is barely 3 months old and he loves Frank Sinatra. How, you might ask, do I know that he loves Frank Sinatra?
Ever since birth, my little guy has hated his car seat. Not just a mild dislike or a small aversion…he has a serious hatred for the car seat. All we have to do is put him in it and before we’ve even buckled him in, he begins to whimper. By the time we get the harness fastened and tightened, he is crying. And when we finally get this instrument of torture locked into the base in the car, he is in a full-out howl. Needless to say, car trips were avoided and dreaded.
But, we stumbled upon the magic cure…Frank Sinatra. My husband gave me a Frank CD for Valentine’s Day, and we happened to have an appointment with the pediatrician the next day. Determined to drown out the screams of my indignant child, I turned said CD up very loud. And, to my amazement, the screaming went to a cry, the cry went to a whimper, and then the whimper went to silence. By the time “Blue Moon” was over, the baby was getting drowsy. And when “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” began, he was fast asleep.
I don’t know what it is about Mr. Sinatra…maybe the rhythm, maybe Frank’s smooth style…but the calming benefits never fail. As a matter of fact, as I type this, my just-moments-ago fretful child is dozing in his bouncer while Frank croons “Embraceable You.”
And now, wherever we go, Sinatra is playing in our car. So much so that I am beginning to get completely sick of him. But I suppose I should count my blessings…at least this didn’t happen with Britney Spears!
Ever since birth, my little guy has hated his car seat. Not just a mild dislike or a small aversion…he has a serious hatred for the car seat. All we have to do is put him in it and before we’ve even buckled him in, he begins to whimper. By the time we get the harness fastened and tightened, he is crying. And when we finally get this instrument of torture locked into the base in the car, he is in a full-out howl. Needless to say, car trips were avoided and dreaded.
But, we stumbled upon the magic cure…Frank Sinatra. My husband gave me a Frank CD for Valentine’s Day, and we happened to have an appointment with the pediatrician the next day. Determined to drown out the screams of my indignant child, I turned said CD up very loud. And, to my amazement, the screaming went to a cry, the cry went to a whimper, and then the whimper went to silence. By the time “Blue Moon” was over, the baby was getting drowsy. And when “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” began, he was fast asleep.
I don’t know what it is about Mr. Sinatra…maybe the rhythm, maybe Frank’s smooth style…but the calming benefits never fail. As a matter of fact, as I type this, my just-moments-ago fretful child is dozing in his bouncer while Frank croons “Embraceable You.”
And now, wherever we go, Sinatra is playing in our car. So much so that I am beginning to get completely sick of him. But I suppose I should count my blessings…at least this didn’t happen with Britney Spears!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Strategic Shopping
As any mother with a small child (or small child-REN) will tell you, getting out of the house to go somewhere is quite a production. You have to not only get yourself and your child dressed and ready, you have to make sure that you have all the necessary supplies to leave home. These essentials can include but are not limited to: bottles, diapers, extra clothes, blankets, bibs, burp cloths, snacks, toys for the car seat, toys for the stroller, and pacifiers. By the time you, the child, and the supplies are ready, you are exhausted and your child is either: A) cranky B)hungry C)wet/dirty D)covered in spit-up or E)all of the above. And you could also be one or all of these things with the possible exception of being wet/dirty (hopefully).
Now, before my son was born, I, just like any outsider could not fully appreciate just how difficult it is to leave home for the day. I ignorantly thought, “How hard can it be? Oh, it’ll be a breeze for me…and I’ll look so put-together, pushing my content child in his stroller, blissfully spending the day running errands.”
How stupid was I?
I have now attempted to take Alexander out shopping 3 times, each with my mother’s help. And, to put it mildly, it’s like going into battle.
There is always something: getting the stroller out, getting the car seat onto the stroller, pacifying the baby because he hates the car seat, finding a way to warm the bottle, praying he doesn’t start screaming before the bottle is warmed, trying to find a place to give the bottle, getting him out of the car seat and trying to shop while holding him because if I leave him in the car seat a moment longer, we are going to have a major breakdown. And don’t even get me started on diaper changes. Let’s just say that having that dirty diaper right before leaving the house might just be a blessing in disguise.
So, I’ve been initiated into running errands with a small child. And I know that my days of casual browsing are done. Now, each stop is like a strategic air strike: I hone in on my target and go for a direct hit.
Oh well…at least there’s still ebay.
Now, before my son was born, I, just like any outsider could not fully appreciate just how difficult it is to leave home for the day. I ignorantly thought, “How hard can it be? Oh, it’ll be a breeze for me…and I’ll look so put-together, pushing my content child in his stroller, blissfully spending the day running errands.”
How stupid was I?
I have now attempted to take Alexander out shopping 3 times, each with my mother’s help. And, to put it mildly, it’s like going into battle.
There is always something: getting the stroller out, getting the car seat onto the stroller, pacifying the baby because he hates the car seat, finding a way to warm the bottle, praying he doesn’t start screaming before the bottle is warmed, trying to find a place to give the bottle, getting him out of the car seat and trying to shop while holding him because if I leave him in the car seat a moment longer, we are going to have a major breakdown. And don’t even get me started on diaper changes. Let’s just say that having that dirty diaper right before leaving the house might just be a blessing in disguise.
So, I’ve been initiated into running errands with a small child. And I know that my days of casual browsing are done. Now, each stop is like a strategic air strike: I hone in on my target and go for a direct hit.
Oh well…at least there’s still ebay.
Sleeping Like a Baby
We’re sleep training in our house.
I never knew you had to train someone to sleep. It seems pretty basic to me. You’re tired, you close your eyes, you go to sleep. Simple.
But, apparently, it is not so simple for little ones. Apparently they have to be “trained” to go to sleep.
So, I’ve been reading up on this phenomenon…the Ferber method, the cry it out method, the no-crying method. All have good ideas. But I’ve settled on a new one…the Alexander method.
He has always been a pretty good sleeper and has been sleeping through the night for about a month now. The problem is in getting him to go to sleep. Alexander has been a cuddly baby from birth and enjoys being held, which is sweet and wonderful. And he most likes being held while he sleeps, which was fine when he was a newborn and there was a steady stream of people into our house, clamoring to hold the baby. But, now he is 3 months old. And he weighs 15 pounds. And he still wants to be held while sleeping. And I’m all by myself during the day. You see the problem.
We’ve got our bedtime routine down. It’s naps that are giving us some difficulty. This is partly my fault. He has gotten dependent on his bouncy seat and only wants to nap in it, with me bouncing it with my foot. But, as I said before, he is 15 pounds and quite long and is rapidly outgrowing it, so he has to learn to take naps in his bed.
For some reason, the bedtime routine doesn’t translate to naptime. So I’m doing my best…rocking him until he’s drowsy, putting on lullabies, closing the blinds, unplugging the phone. If I get 30 minutes here and 30 minutes there, I count myself lucky.
And my husband wonders why he comes home some days and I’m still in my pajamas. Didn’t I have all that time to get stuff done while Alexander napped?
Yeah…right.
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