like a girl

kicking butt

I was going to say that first-time parenting, working, and being in school all at the same time is seriously kicking my butt, and that's why I'm so tired... but then I decided that I am seriously kicking butt at it, rather, and THAT is why I am so tired. If I stopped caring about any part of all this, I would definitely get more rest.

So. Now I feel more empowered.

Today I am thankful for my busy, needy, beautiful son, and the way he has inspired me to work harder than ever to make our lives better. xo

note to self

People say it gets easier but I'm pretty sure that's a lie.

It never gets easier, you just get used to it, kind of--except for when you don't. Except for when you feel like crying for days or just walking out the door without looking back, without even closing it behind you. You're not bad for thinking it, I promise. Because you didn't do it. (That would be bad, if actually you did it. But you didn't.) You're still here. And your baby loves you more than the sun. And you'll get used to that, too. This baby that will grow up and get big and strong and hairy where he once was soft and smooth, and yet will still be your tiny sweet baby standing there, always, if you just squint your eyes a little. He will grow up and never be able to grasp, not quite, how much you have done for him. World without end, amen.

But these are the easy days, really. I'm sorry. I know you're too tired to hear that. I won't tell you to enjoy every moment; just try not to ever hate it. It will all be over soon. So soon, too soon. This too shall pass and your memory, that kind and helpful friend, will soften these days and make them not only palatable, but sweet. Meanwhile: You are doing a really good job.

Now for the love of god, go take a nap.

scratch that

Now he only eats goldfish crackers.
Oh, and leaves.

things my son wants to eat

1. Whatever mommy is eating: Like, literally, no no no mama I want that take it out of your mouth and give it to me oh here let me help you I will just take it out myself.

2. Whatever mommy is eating, but placed directly into his hand or on his tray or in his own bowl or on his spoon. Please do NOT get the desired placement incorrect.

3. Floor food: Snacks that were previously rejected from the lofty position of the high chair but now seem appetizing again on the floor. It's all about perspective, apparently.

4. Electronics

5. Books

6. Whatever daddy is eating

7. Breastmilk

8. Baby approved snacks, one flavor at a time in order of preference: All the yogurt drops, then all the goldfish, then all the peaches, etc. Depending on level of hunger, less desired items may be dropped/flung to the floor. (For later reconsideration, if I am not fast enough, as mentioned above.)

9. Imported European baby formula that takes 2-5 weeks to get here and so sometimes has to be supplemented with domestic formula that makes him wonder if we really love him at all and what kind of life is this?

10. Lovingly crafted organic fruit and vegetable purees

where did you even find that pretzel?!

My son, everyone. The orally fixated detective.

Seriously though, we haven't had pretzels in the house in like, three months. And I keep this place pretty clean. Honest. At least he hasn't "found" anything poisonous. Or furry.

UPDATE: Phil had a bag of pretzels in his backpack and must have dropped one:)

abridged

Just one lonely post for all of September. Man.

I have opened up a blank page several times and there is just too much to say so I close it again, still blank. That's what happens when you wait so long. Hunter is 8 months old today; time is rocketing by and the days are busy yet somehow so boring, every single one the same. My investment feels invisible most of the time but today he hit himself in the face with a book and charged straight for me, with his new-learned, stilted crawl, head down, tears streaming. His mama-radar finely tuned, always taking him the shortest route. He knows where to go when life hurts. I'm right here, baby. I'm here. He believes I can fix it. Which means I'm doing something right. Thank goodness. It all could have been so different.

Daily life is a grind but there is sweetness in it too. Turning 30 this year has dawned on me slowly, pushing me to refocus, keenly aware of my choices and where they are taking me. It's so easy to let life happen to you. It is not easy to make your life happen.

I am reading a lot of articles these days; ISIS, Syria, feminism, sociology, psychology, presidential candidates, student debt, water shortage, the NFL. It feels good to have opinions about things and lively, educated discussions. For the past year I was in a sort of limbo, dealing with aggregate trauma around my pregnancy and bringing a tiny new human into the world. Now I feel suddenly awake again and it is refreshing and uncomfortable at the same time. But healthy discomfort can breed welcome change and that is what I am going for.

When Hunter was born, my old life ended. I have a new life now. And a squishy belly, and not enough sleep. And something gorgeous and unfathomable and inimitably worth living for. I never knew I could feel this way. I can't explain to you how powerful it is, to live for the first time under the assumption that living is good, that it's the best, that I'd rather not give it up. I fought so hard for so many years. The pure optimism of it boggles my mind. And yet here it is, the life I was fighting for.

anchor watch

After you have a baby, people will inevitably ask you if you are sleeping at night, because the one thing people know about babies is that babies = no more sleep. Sometimes it is even the very first question. When I say he usually "only" wakes up twice now, they will always exclaim, Oh, that's great, that's not bad at all! To which I very much want to reply, Fuck you, why don't you try it for a year and then tell me how great it is. But instead I just smile wanly and look away because people, you know? People.

touché

Hunter wants
to fall asleep
in my arms every night now
and once he (finally,
finally) does,
no matter how stinky
he was being before,
he looks so innocent
and perfect and sweet
that I feel like I could
stare at him
forever,
even if
my whole body hurts and
my arm
is going numb.

Your point, baby.
Bravo.