Real Resolutions
This year, make a realistic list of resolutions. Give yourself small goals you can actually keep, and make sure they’re not important enough that you hate yourself when you don’t keep them (and you won’t.)
I’ll start.
The Go-To Girlfriend for New Mommies
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Since I seem to spend so much time these days talking about Madeleine's eating habits and the inevitable (hopefully!) conclusions therein, I've added a new category on the right - Intake and Output. I suspect this isn't the last one I'll have to add, either; I'm guessing "Toddlerhood" is not too far off in the future, and "Teenagers - What the Heck??" will be here before I know it.
Isaiah, my girlfriend Abby’s oldest child, turned three recently. I was privileged enough to be at his birth and I can’t believe it’s been three years. He’s definitively left babyhood behind, and is now far less toddler than little boy. Abby was the first of my girlfriends to have a baby, and I remember being selfishly depressed when she became pregnant; I knew instinctively that the face of our friendship would alter, that motherhood would change her; that there would be a chasm between us of life experiences she had had and I had not.
Fortunately, of course, that selfishness was short-lived and I threw myself into her pregnancy with gusto, reading up on everything and ultimately being a sort of doula for her during the birth. And our relationship clearly survived, even deepened because of her motherhood. But I was right in that there were things she could discuss with me that, while I sympathized, I could not empathize. Becoming a mother opens you up to a whole new world of love and devotion, and with that comes an exponential amount of vulnerability and dependence on others.Only a few more days before Christmas and the big event that accompanies it – the Family Dinner. I feel duty-bound to remind you all to be on your guard; every family’s got a crazy Uncle Al in their closet who hops the kids up on sugar, teaches them the theory behind building a parachute for jumping off the roof from mommy’s nightgown, then breezes out as you spot your angelic-looking son sidling up to your lingerie drawer.
How do I know this? I’ve got my own Uncle Al.
Only his name’s Uncle Doug.Fear not, gentlemen, the deadline for coming up with a brilliant Christmas present has not yet passed you by. There’s still time to run out and grab a gift that will dazzle your wife and bring her to incoherent cries of joy.
The miracle product? A home laminating machine.
This is the point in the blog where you forlornly hope I reveal I’m kidding. Alas, it is not so.I’m momentarily putting my holiday ruminations on hold because that’s where Madeleine’s digestive tract is.
On hold.
And as you can imagine, it’s occupying much of my thoughts.Still trying to decide what to get for new parents this year? Look in your own child’s toychest for inspiration.
For Madeleine’s shower, my girlfriend Abby (and her husband Paul – I sometimes speak as if she acts in a void but he’s a helpful other half) gave us a few of her son Isaiah’s favorite toys. Not the same ones, of course – as Abby was wrapping them up for us, Isaiah expressed concern that they were the originals and Abby had to dig out his beloveds to reassure him – but shiny new ones for Maddie to break in herself. Not all the toys were newborn-appropriate, but it gave us something new to look forward to using at a later date. And as baby girl grows into a stage where she’ll appreciate one of her packed-away toys, I get to 1) remember Paul and Abby’s thoughtfulness all over again, and 2) not have to spend money on new toys.
I bring this up now because recently Madeleine went through one such spurt, and is truly enthralled with one of their gifts.When the weather turned gorgeous and mild today for no discernable reason, Madeleine and I wisely asked no questions and ran out of the house to enjoy ourselves. We went to our local greenmarket; our supply of frozen baby food’s pretty low and it’s time to replenish. Having been on solid foods for about three weeks now, Madeleine’s developing quite the diverse diet; she’s getting the eating thing down, throwing both arms out stiff to her sides like an airplane and opening her mouth wide baby bird-style.
I can’t stand how cute she can make something like eating.I got off work a bit early today and decided to get in some “real” Christmas shopping, blatantly taking advantage of my mother’s babysitting. I spent time earlier going through Maddie’s shopping list and deciding what would be ordered online and what I’d pick up at Buy Buy Baby because it was either cheaper or back-ordered or too big and bulky to ship at a somewhat decent cost. At last, I’d get the chance to get out there and get my hands dirty! Let the blissful browsing and impulse-buying begin!
Two hours later, I’m standing on the street in front of Bloomingdale’s with half the population of Manhattan, trying vainly to flag down a cab during 1) the start of rush hour, and 2) the shift change of all taxi drivers in the city. Twenty minutes of unsuccessful peremptory arm-waving later, I had one question:
Tell me again why I thought online shopping was bad?Madeleine’s six months now, and I’ve been back working a couple nights a week while Brian watches her since she was four months old. When I first started back, I really looked forward to leaving the house, getting out and mixing with adults, using a different part of my brain than the area required to do all the silly voices for Bear Snores On. I also felt liberated to be back in the work force; not in a burn-your-bra, I’m-as-good-as-a-man sort of way, but in an actual released-on-parole sort of way.
This is making me sound like a horrible mother who doesn’t love her child, so let me go back one more step before I go forward.
No, I’m not turning Mama Rose on you; I don’t have any suggestions for the next American Baby Idol auditions.
But I do have a great holiday gift suggestion. I promised you earlier you'd benefit from the fruits of my labor, and this one is a whopper.
At least, these facts were unknown to me.
Yep, it seems it’s that time now, though truth be told, I feel as if she’s been teething for about three months already. She’s been gnawing on shoulders and drooling down burp cloths since she was around 12 weeks old; she’s had a drool rash around her mouth on and off now for about two months. She’s well acquainted with her teething fishie and hand, and believe me, it’s best to have more than one since 1) fishie is a different texture from the hand, and you never know which one she’ll want, and 2) you’ll always have one that’s cold. Fishie is great because it's got a couple different textures, including a really hard edge when she's in the mood to get out some anger, and hand is the place to go when she needs to get the back teeth: she can fit those long fingers in her mouth and be content. If you’re holding her while she’s gnawing on either of those, it’s best to be sitting on a drop cloth to catch all the excess drool. But she’s been doing this for so long now, along with the chomping on her fist and trying to bite off your finger at a knuckle, that we’ve come to view it as a way of life.
Traditions are a big part of my family; as much as I love new situations and challenges, I cling voraciously to the rituals and rites that I’ve grown up with or developed with Brian. One of the things that excited me most about becoming a mother was the opportunity to introduce my child to these traditions, the anticipation you feel as they approach, and the familiarity and joy you get when they happen. It’s like snuggling under your favorite down comforter: you look at it, calling to you from your bed; you think longingly about snuggling under it all day, anticipation perhaps even hastening yours steps home; and when you finally do curl up in it at night, it’s even better than you remembered, immediately enfolding you, conforming to you, multiplying your own warmth exponentially in a soft, cushiony kind of heaven.
Not that I like my down comforter or anything.
Back to traditions, though – they’re an important part of our family life, and today Madeleine was introduced to yet another very important one.
The making of the chex mix.Yep, Madeleine met the Big Man himself.
Sure, she’s only six months old, and probably doesn’t have a lot to say to Santa. But frankly, she didn’t have much choice; Brian and I were going, with or without her.
The 4 a.m. breathing check.
You’re lying in bed, enjoying the fact that Pumpkin’s slept for six hours solid and not asked for her usual 3 a.m. feeding. Unfortunately, she’s got you trained and you’re wide awake. You’re listening drowsily to the snap crackle pop of the monitor when you realize you can’t hear her breathing. She’s probably just scooched away from the monitor and breathing quietly. Yeah, that’s probably it. She’s fine. You know if you get up you won’t be able to see anything anyhow. Go back to sleep!But you can’t. And now you’re convinced she’s not breathing at all and you’re on your way to a full-blown panic-attack. So you creep into her room, risking a wake up.
Don’t pretend you haven’t done it. I’ve practically held a mirror in front of her mouth myself.
The problem is, you can’t see her. It’s dark. Middle of the night, in fact! So you can’t catch the rise and fall of her chest. But how are you supposed to see in the middle of the night without waking her up?You’re looking at your Christmas shopping list, trying to decide what to get everyone. As you work, you glance over to your sleeping cherub. Was there ever such a beautiful baby? Back to your list: what could you give people that would bring them real joy? Back to Cherub: who can resist that face?
And so, just as chocolate and peanut butter collided to bring us Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, your shopping list somehow seamlessly merges with your desire to stare at Cherub’s face for hours at a time. Pictures of Baby for everyone this year! Who wouldn’t love it?
Slow down there, Stella. Just because you find her adorable, your mom may not need a mug with Kiddo’s mugshot on it. For one thing, she doesn’t drink coffee. Or tea. Or hot cocoa. Forget the mug! Let’s think a little outside the pottery box for a second.The holidays are rapidly gaining momentum and I’m becoming a wee bit scared. I mean, I knew this year would be different from every other thus far; I knew all my elaborate cookie decorating, our 80+ person Christmas party, our constant entertaining would be severely curtailed.
But I didn’t quite understand I’d have to give up the shopping thing.
We’re plowing ahead with the solid foods thing. Maddie’s still going with the rice cereal after her “dinner” nursing, enjoying bananas as a mid-morning snack, and today we added sweet potatoes as her afternoon snack. Interestingly enough, she devoured the sweet potatoes while she’s a bit ambivalent about the bananas.
I’ve been doing most of the “solid” food feedings in her Bumbo Sitter; I fold her into the chair, seat myself in front of her, and we go for it.We had our first snowfall of the season last night and awoke to the perfect winter morning; with about an inch of snow on the ground, the trees were topped in powdered sugar and the back yard was snug under a lovely white velvet blanket. Madeleine’s eyes grew as big as saucers when she saw it for the first time, and she turned to me with a smile on her face as if to say, “Did you do this just for me?”
We ran a few errands before church this morning, strolling around the Upper West Side. Maddie was in her infant car seat / stroller base, so she was seeing everything in reverse. With her Kangaroo Kuddler tucked up under her chin, she looked like a miniature empress snuggled under a thick blanket on a sleigh ride. She was clutching the edge of the Kuddler, refusing to keep her hands tucked toastily under the blanket, screaming with glee.
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