Dear Deacon,
Today was 104! Having learned from yesterday, we did not set one foot outdoors today. I didn't even do much cleaning (beyond stripping your cloth diapers.) We played. You spent most of the day wandering naked (sans diaper), having me chase you with your remote control car, building towers out of boxes, and playing with pots and bowls full of water.
I think you're going through a growing spurt. You ate like a horse today! A big breakfast, two lunches, dinner, dessert, and a snack of cheerios afterward. You're also changing mentally (and emotionally) on a daily basis the past few days. You wake up bigger, brighter, different.
Today you started finally calling me "mama"! You always knew I was mama, of course, and you knew how to say mama... you just always chose not to. You never needed to address me. But today, every time you wanted to show me something, or wanted me to give you something, it was "maMA! maMA!"
The sweetest words I've ever heard. :)
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Monday, July 1, 2013
Our first toddler meltdown
Dear Deacon,
For the moment, I've found that blogging is easier if I write each post as if its a letter to you. Weird, huh? Right now they're sporadic and messy but maybe someday I can revise them and present them to you. You can read these letters, this dialogue from the past, and maybe learn something about your mother or yourself that you never knew before! I like that thought.
I remember reading my mother's old journal (with her permission, of course) when I was a teenager and being struck by the realization for the first time that she was a real, vibrant, interesting person - not just a mother. While being a mother was undoubtedly her favorite thing to be, as it is mine, it wasn't all there is to her, just as it's only one facet of me. Maybe when you're a grown man you can understand some of the other facets of your mother. Maybe you'll think that's cool. Or maybe you'll think I'm lame. I'm fine with it either way.
Today I went to my first La Leche League meeting since you were born. I attended a few meetings while I was pregnant but once you were born I stopped going. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because I was in a haze of newborn bliss and didn't feel like leaving the house and socializing. I also felt like I had done so much research, consulted lactation consultants, read books, etc. that there was nothing they could do to help me. If I'm honest, I was also afraid of being judged by all the trouble I was having breastfeeding and by having to supplement with formula.
It's interesting, because looking back on it, I still instinctively try to feel guilty over the first six months of nursing. I truly tried every single thing I knew to do... but I still end up feeling like I did it all wrong. I was just so confused and no one could tell me "THIS is how you do it." In the end, I know I truly did all that I could. I tried so hard. And so there is no reason to feel guilty. But I do think if I had trusted my body more - and trusted you and your cues more - that we probably wouldn't have had to supplement. It was a lesson well learned, though, and I suppose that's what matters in the end. Besides, we have a lovely, trusting, playful breastfeeding relationship now, so it's a happy ending.
Anyway, back to the meeting. You were the oldest baby there and you were so energetic and so much fun! You charmed all the other mamas. After that we visited Grammy. You went down for a late (and regrettably short) nap before we jetted off to the grocery store. All of this in 103 degree heat. When we got home we were all tired, hot, and hungry. You tasted your first (two) Nilla Wafers. Ugh, they're disgusting, and I hated giving them to you, but you need to be able to try new things! When I said "no" to a third, you had your very first meltdown.
Poor thing, you were utterly inconsolable. I assumed you would calm down yourself after a minute or two, but you didn't. You didn't want to nurse, you didn't want a different food, you didn't want to be diverted with games or books. You just sobbed and sobbed until you were hiccuping for breath. We went upstairs and watched Wiggles and cuddled and you calmed down after about half an hour. But, boy, what an experience! I felt so sorry for you and so stressed and so unsure of how to soothe you at the same time!
Of course, this won't be the last time you get so upset in your childhood, adolescence, or even adulthood. I wonder if it will be so upsetting for me each time it happens to you? Maybe not. Maybe it's the new mom in me overreacting when you are anything but perfectly content. But maybe it's a mother thing to always feel - or at least sympathize with the feeling - that your child is feeling?
We wrapped up the evening pleasantly with dinner (you turned up your nose at lentil soup and had broccoli and chicken sausage instead.) and a bath in the kitchen sink. We played tag and hide-and-seek and you helped me straighten up the living room. We read bedtime books and you fell asleep quickly.
As always, any day being your mother is a good day!
For the moment, I've found that blogging is easier if I write each post as if its a letter to you. Weird, huh? Right now they're sporadic and messy but maybe someday I can revise them and present them to you. You can read these letters, this dialogue from the past, and maybe learn something about your mother or yourself that you never knew before! I like that thought.
I remember reading my mother's old journal (with her permission, of course) when I was a teenager and being struck by the realization for the first time that she was a real, vibrant, interesting person - not just a mother. While being a mother was undoubtedly her favorite thing to be, as it is mine, it wasn't all there is to her, just as it's only one facet of me. Maybe when you're a grown man you can understand some of the other facets of your mother. Maybe you'll think that's cool. Or maybe you'll think I'm lame. I'm fine with it either way.
Today I went to my first La Leche League meeting since you were born. I attended a few meetings while I was pregnant but once you were born I stopped going. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because I was in a haze of newborn bliss and didn't feel like leaving the house and socializing. I also felt like I had done so much research, consulted lactation consultants, read books, etc. that there was nothing they could do to help me. If I'm honest, I was also afraid of being judged by all the trouble I was having breastfeeding and by having to supplement with formula.
It's interesting, because looking back on it, I still instinctively try to feel guilty over the first six months of nursing. I truly tried every single thing I knew to do... but I still end up feeling like I did it all wrong. I was just so confused and no one could tell me "THIS is how you do it." In the end, I know I truly did all that I could. I tried so hard. And so there is no reason to feel guilty. But I do think if I had trusted my body more - and trusted you and your cues more - that we probably wouldn't have had to supplement. It was a lesson well learned, though, and I suppose that's what matters in the end. Besides, we have a lovely, trusting, playful breastfeeding relationship now, so it's a happy ending.
Anyway, back to the meeting. You were the oldest baby there and you were so energetic and so much fun! You charmed all the other mamas. After that we visited Grammy. You went down for a late (and regrettably short) nap before we jetted off to the grocery store. All of this in 103 degree heat. When we got home we were all tired, hot, and hungry. You tasted your first (two) Nilla Wafers. Ugh, they're disgusting, and I hated giving them to you, but you need to be able to try new things! When I said "no" to a third, you had your very first meltdown.
Poor thing, you were utterly inconsolable. I assumed you would calm down yourself after a minute or two, but you didn't. You didn't want to nurse, you didn't want a different food, you didn't want to be diverted with games or books. You just sobbed and sobbed until you were hiccuping for breath. We went upstairs and watched Wiggles and cuddled and you calmed down after about half an hour. But, boy, what an experience! I felt so sorry for you and so stressed and so unsure of how to soothe you at the same time!
Of course, this won't be the last time you get so upset in your childhood, adolescence, or even adulthood. I wonder if it will be so upsetting for me each time it happens to you? Maybe not. Maybe it's the new mom in me overreacting when you are anything but perfectly content. But maybe it's a mother thing to always feel - or at least sympathize with the feeling - that your child is feeling?
We wrapped up the evening pleasantly with dinner (you turned up your nose at lentil soup and had broccoli and chicken sausage instead.) and a bath in the kitchen sink. We played tag and hide-and-seek and you helped me straighten up the living room. We read bedtime books and you fell asleep quickly.
As always, any day being your mother is a good day!
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