Yes, I AM Aware of how Irritating I am

I remember in my youth being so annoyed by those girls. You know the ones. The ones that start dating and completely fall off the face of the earth. It’s like they meet a guy, and all girl friendships fly to the wind. I used to be so annoyed. I was never going to be that way.

And then I met Harv.

I remember being quite the anti “mommy blog” girl. I really didn’t want to hear about your cute babies. No, I didn’t think your child was the cutest I had ever seen. No, I didn’t really want to hear about what Jimmy ate for supper and how he was on the verge of crawling. And no, I did not want a play by play of his toilet tutorial. I wondered why you were blogging about it, talking to me about it in the supermarket, using facebook as your personal play by play for the on goings of little Susie. I wasn’t going to be that way.

And then I had Sam.

I get it. I get it people. I. GET. IT. And I am now one of you. It’s all I want to write about. And Sam is all I want to talk about. I want to share with you how he is having trouble napping, and how he is on the verge of crawling, and that he is really struggling with tooth #5. I want to blog about his every action, and ask you if he isn’t just the cutest baby you have ever seen?! I want to post pictures and have you tell me how cute you think my baby is. I want to share how I feel like a horrible mother, because I let Sam roll off the bed this afternoon. Right off the bed. A big thud. And a big wail. I want to tell you how I am still, hours later checking him for broken bones and signs of concussions. And how I am still apologizing to my little Sammy for being a bad, bad Mommy. I want you to tell me that it's ok, and that the same thing happened to you. (And really, you probably have already told me, and I may have glazed over at the time.)

And now I am apologizing to you. To all the mom’s out there. I was wrong. And I want to hear about it. I want to know everything. I search for your blogs on line and happily read about little Jimmy and his daily adventures. I bookmark you as my favorites. I delight in meeting you in the grocery store, or in Tim Horton’s, as we compare baby ages and names and laugh over our matching Nestle diaper bags. And I am sorry.

And I know…to some…I am completely irritating. And I know I am. And I am sorry. I am aware. And I am sorry.

Oh, and one more thing….Isn’t he the cutest baby EVER?!?!

The Best Intentions

I lead a group of women on Tuesday nights. It is an accountability/encouragement group of sorts. It is mostly related to weight issues, but we have been known to digress. I am in no way a qualified leader of this group. But I needed it, and no one would start one for me…so I started it myself.

Last night we were talking about living intentionally. Being intentional about our health, our choices, our relationship with God, etc… I do not live intentionally. I live reactively. Now I am sure Oprah would have 800 things to say to me about intentions, and living my best life and so on and so forth. And really, before I had my little Sam (and was already living unintentionally) I may have listened with a glimmer of hope. But now…I just don’t know. What was a struggle before, now just seems impossible.

How do you live intentionally when your whole day seems to be at the whim of a little 8 month old? Oh, don’t get me wrong…I have plans. I have a to do list. And if you know me well, you will know that it is an extremely long and unreasonable list of the things that I would like to accomplish in the span of any given day. It is sticking to the plan that gives me trouble.

Is it even possible in this particular season of my life to live intentionally? I intentionally got on the treadmill this morning. I also intentionally got off that treadmill every five minutes to rescue Sam from being on his tummy which he seems to hate. I intentionally sat down to fold the laundry. I also intentionally left the laundry when Sam needed his diaper changed. I intentionally planned to study a book I picked up regarding great foods to feed baby. I also intentionally left that book when I actually had to feed baby, rather than just reading about feeding him.

And so my days go. What should I do? Should I just embrace it? Embrace reactive living? I love being a mom…that would be easy to do. But I also love living in a house that is not complete chaos. And I know that I need to be intentional about my health so that I can enjoy being a mom for many years to come. I have just never felt so…thwarted in my plans.

Ahhh but what an adorable little thwarter. I LOVE reacting to that little guy. I am now going to intentionally walk by the dirty dishes and intentionally gaze lovingly at that little one whom I adore.

What's Eating You?

I’m stressed out. I am a stressed out mom. That’s what I am. It’s not because of the things I am doing. I love what I am doing. I love story time and cuddles on the chair. I love tickling Sam and hearing that little laugh. I love rocking him to sleep at night and singing him little songs that make him coo. I love so much about our days together.

I love what I am doing. It’s what I am NOT doing that causes me stress. It’s worrying about whether or not I am helping that little brain develop in the way that it should. (Or at least the way the parenting magazines say that it should.) Last night Harv said to Sam. “Daddy has a blue shirt, and Sammy has a blue shirt.” Instead of finding that little father/son moment endearing, I panicked. I have been so busy teaching Sam what sound a sheep makes that we haven’t even touched on colors yet!! Stress.

I’ve been trying to read a lot to get my mind around how to feed my little guy. We did so well in his first 6 months when all was required was a bottle. Now it is getting tricky. I read last night that by 7 months, babies should be eating meats and pasta and finger foods, and cut up slices of bread. I am completely behind. Sam is almost 8 months and is still on baby cereals and pureed mixes of sweet potatoes, and other vegetables. I don’t know why this stresses me out so much. It’s not like Sammy is going to graduate and go out to celebrate with a big tub of mashed up butternut squash.

But it’s not just that. It’s everything. I just want to be a good mom. You know…do the best that I can do for him. I don’t want him to be behind because I don’t have one hot clue as to what I am doing. I don’t want to “wreck him”. I don’t want him to have to spend thousands of dollars in therapy when he grows up because he has “Mommy issues”. Stress. All this worrying because I haven’t fed my baby chicken. But sometimes it’s not so much about what you are eating as what’s eating you.

Warm Heart - Cold Kraft Dinner

I planned it all so carefully. It was 2:00 and my boy was down for a rare nap. (One would think a baby would conk out eventually wouldn’t they?!) I decided I might actually get time for lunch, and after scouring a pathetic cupboard filled with the likes of kidney beans and beef consume, Kraft Dinner seemed to be the obvious choice. I quietly took the pot out of the cupboard, being extra careful not to clatter or bang as to ensure the sleepy state of young Samuel. The water boiled and pasta was cooked. As I mixed in the milk and powder I smiled to myself, thinking that things seemed to finally be going my way. It was all looking so good. What a good boy I have! I thought to myself. On the plate it went and as I raised my fork for the first time, settling in to my relaxing dinner of solitude, I heard it. A little wail coming from the nursery. A sure signal that someone else was also hungry. And by the sounds of it, he seemed to think he was hungrier than I. Unbelievable.

Do you think babies have radars? Do they just KNOW when mommy is about to take a bite?

It happens every time.

But, do you want to know something? I don’t even care. I just love that little guy. He is the only one that can keep me up all night and still melt my heart with that toothless little grin. He is the only one that can whine and fuss all day, wanting to be held ALL day, and when he FINALLY falls asleep, looks so adorable that I just can’t bear the thought of putting him down.

I’ll take cold Kraft Dinner any day for this little guy who makes my heart so warm.

Endless Days, Blogless Nights

Not a whole lot of updates going on around here. No birth story. No adorable new pictures. No tales of woe about the adjustment to parenting. No gushing about my sweet angel boy.

There is no time.

No time between all the feeding and holding and diaper changing and comforting and bottle washing and laundry and rocking to sleep and sneaking out of the nursery praying that little one won't notice that I am no longer rocking him to sleep.

This new baby thing is so all consuming. Does it ever get any easier?

My wise sister told me in regard to these overwhelming new baby days - "The days drag on forever, but the years, they fly by."

So I am determined to enjoy this time while I have it. And enjoy my little one while he is still little. But does that mean it will be years before I update this blog on a regular basis? I would answer that but I hear a little squeaking that needs my attention in the other room and apparently my time has run out.

Oh dear...

Do you think the fact that I locked my cat up in the bedroom today because she wouldn't stop howling at me is a negative foreboding of my style and capability of parenting? I may be in trouble here.