Public Outcry

I'd like to make a shout out to another superhero, though he is the milk producing kind.
Our pal Tucker aka Kidd aka Uncle Tucker has spent many nights at our house in the last few months, the reason of which isn't really important. He and his enormous dog Soda hung their hats here and really, truly gave Jared, Lev and I something that we didn't know we were missing: another member of our little family. Not only was he good with Lev, he entertained Jared for hours on end playing shoot 'em up video games. Every morning I enjoyed his company and made him king's breakfasts while he slowly came into consciousness with cups of coffee.
We already miss him--its been less than 24 hours since his departure from our home.

I will sincerely never forget this time in Lev's early, early childhood. So here is a public:

THANK YOU!

WE LOVE YOU!

to the greatest Uncle Tucker we have ever known.
And now! A picture!

Poop Cadet

Lev is here next to me and urging me not to write in this here blog.

Morning ritual--just leave me alone!

Every person has ritual in their life to some degree or another. This ritual enhances their lives, gives more meaning to the little things and enriches the waking moment to a point of higher enlightened consciousness. Right, this ritual for me starts when I wake up and ends once I've downed my last cup of tea. Let me digress.

Lev and I have restless nights, he wakes up, I wake up, we nurse and fall back to sleep. Sometime later, he wakes up again, I wake up, we wrestle with the nipple for a while and then fall asleep. This means I do not have a solid 8 hours, I probably don't even have a solid 4 hours. However, I've accepted this and do my best to compensate by sleeping in as long as I can. This means, probably, until 8:30-9:00am. There is nothing shameful about this.

Upon waking, Lev and I start our morning conversation, which basically is the same conversation every time. A series of coos and gurgles; I'll sing the baby song and he will do his best to be totally adorable and amaze me with his smiles and squeals. I change him, he waves his hands in the air, Luba lies by the heater. Its a slow and easy time that allows me to wake up to the day, greeted by my son's energy and enthusiasm for being naked from the waist down.

Sometimes he pees on me. Sometimes he pukes on me. Sometimes I leave him on the changing table in a spot of sunlight and he squirms, while I take care of some of my own needs--primarily, peeing, drinking a cup of water, and beginning the long process of checking my email. After I've dressed him again, we settle down into the rocking chair to nurse. Lev grins at me with his mouth full, looks at the bookshelf behind us, and makes beautiful little sounds as he nurses his face off. Finally falling asleep, I lay him down and begin the second part of this ritual: breakfast.

I've managed to get my timing down pretty perfectly--the toast, tea and eggs will all be hot and ready at the same time; this means a lot to me and I don't care who knows it. This is how I like every day to begin. Maybe I'll read from a novel while I eat, maybe I'll make some notes to myself... really, the ritual is about my independence from the world and from my baby. Lev is totally content asleep, Jared is at work, and I am alone with my tea and toast--I don't rush it, I savor every second. I have tried to find ways to draw it out as long as possible, but really, this ritual makes its own time frame and I enjoy it while it lasts.

Once its over, I know Lev will wake up and I'll begin to shift my thinking and my energy towards the activities of the day (even if on this particular day, I plan on doing laundry and reading novels).

***

Even before I had a baby, it was virtually impossible to wake me up in the morning. Today, Jared woke me up as he was leaving for work because I was supposed to bring my car to get the battery replaced. I knew this was coming, but I also knew that I resented the very idea of getting up before I was ready. My morning ritual cannot be rushed--it either happens or it doesn't. That said, my ritual with Lev is also incredibly important, and when it is rushed, I know that he and I will have a rough day. Jared lovingly began waking me up. I could hear he was doing his best to try and be sweet about all this, knowing that I was going to resist.
"Honey--*kiss, kiss*---Darling--*rub, rub*--its time to wake up now".
"Stop being an asshole!"
"Amanda--I know you don't want to do this, but you have to. Come on honey..."
"Get out of here! Go away!"

Lev starts to stir, and I feel my hysteria growing... Jared starts feeling defensive, I start waking up more than I want to... We agree that Jared will set an alarm for me and I start to fall back asleep as I hear the front door slam. Within seconds, the alarm has gone off. Literally, seconds.
Thanks, Jared. Always looking out for me.

Hear this! Making a new mom wake up in the morning is basically the worst idea you've thought of. This situation was made worse, when I received the call saying that actually, I didn't have to bring the car in until after 12. Now, I'm awake, but surly. I've drank more tea than I should, and my heart is pounding. Lev is still asleep and its snowing. I feel as though a recipe for disaster has been thrown together and I'm not sure how to avoid it. This is what my morning ritual saves me from: myself.

Sure glad shes fighting on my side...

So, I had this idea that I needed an image for this blog--a visual, a mascot, whatever. I'm thinking...superhero lady with udders.. or that shoots breastmilk to fight crime... or that has like six babies clinging to her like baby monkeys...

But then I found this image---->

It is not a permanent fixture, let me assure you. Then again, maybe it will be.

Make milk? What else can you do?....

I got to thinking in the shower while I pulled out handfuls of hair (a postpartum glory) that it might be nice to have a blog. A blog, where I could post about babies and me and the new world I'm experiencing being a stay at home mom. There is a different language, a different first impression, and a wholly different age group with which I'm finding myself in direct contact. I've gone from early twenties, soul-searching gal to... a baby wearing spit-up enthusiast.

Believe me, this transformation took time (the standard 40 weeks) and now that I'm here my eyes are open to this baby world--a world I never noticed before: I'm newly arrived to this target audience. But now that I'm here and as tuned in as I can be, I am starting to understand that this tender time is taken for granted. I keep hearing "Cherish this! Oh... they grow up so fast". And I wonder...what were these people doing while their children were young? Were they frustrated with the neediness of their little ones? Did they find themselves guiltily wishing "oh, once they're a little older it won't be so hard..." What I'm really wanting to address is the reality of convenience parenting and the effect it is having on our American society.

If you've ever had to enter a Babies R Us, or attend a baby shower you will find yourself overwhelmed by the "necessities" deemed, well, necessary for raising a child. Pacifiers, strollers, bouncing chairs, vibrating saucers, plastic foam props, polyester bunnies that dangle and tangle...everything you need to distract your baby while you continue living your life. A crib that sings your baby to sleep for you--perfect. Soothing vibrations that replace human contact or swings that jet set your baby into a life of isolation and forced independence...

I'm kind of exaggerating, but I'm also not really exaggerating. I suppose its how you look at it... We have been shown that its okay to allow your baby to be alone, and that in fact its good for them. They are trapped in these plastic cages and containers from birth, lulling them into a buzzed slumber. Ultimately, we're all doing the best we can, right? We as parents are doing the best we can with the resources available etc etc... A book I read on attachment parenting posed this question: do you want your child to look to inanimate objects for comfort, or to people?

This first post isn't supposed to be high and mighty.... I am just really feeling how industry and money men and business is turning what is supposed to be a slow, baby focused and led experience into a fast paced, plastic packed, convenience for the sake of a hands free life...
I don't want to look at other women's babies ten or twenty years from now and wish that I had, had more time with my own children. I don't want to regale them with warnings of how fleeting the experience is... I love my son. I love where he is TODAY.