We're All Clean

Today was the family baby shower for my sister, Anne. I think it was a pretty fun party!

Okay, enough about the party. What's so cool about this whole pregnant-sister thing right now is that Anne's baby (girl, of course) is due, depending on how you calculate, on January 11/13 of next year. Lily was due January 11/13 this year. She made her appearance on January 8.*

What does this mean? It means for me observing Anne, this year is memories of last year and for Anne observing Lily, this year is prediction for next year. Of course, every baby, every mama, and every experience is different, but being that we're sisters who share the same parents and similar body types, our experiences are indeed quite similar. And did I mention she also had two losses prior to this current pregnancy, the first being a late first trimester loss and the second being very early? Just like me! Not exactly the same, but very similar.

So often I look at her and say something like, "Oh yes, I remember starting to feel more sure I was really having a baby by late summer," or "I think I was unable to wear my rings by this point too," or "I know I was wearing Crocs pretty much exclusively by this point in the year." I can't really describe why this is so thrilling, but it is.

And one thing I remember about this time last year was starting to get pretty excited! The excitement was tempered a bit by being overwhelmed about what still needed to be done. But the only emotion that carries over to this year is pure excitement. I love all my nieces and I can't wait to meet the newest one.


*Footnotes are handy. I MEAN, it's still hard for me to say "was born." Yes, she was, in the technical sense that in one moment she was in and the next she was out. I promise I'm not going to open this can of worms right now, but to me, a cesarean "birth" is only technical. Or, to put it another way, Lily was born, but I didn't give birth. I'll shut up now.

Resolution

I'm just tired of whining and complaining. I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately.

Well. . .okay, I'm not done whining and complaining about everything I could possibly whine and complain about. But one thing is getting the boot from my plate of worries. I will, like a baby-toddler learning how to play fetch, grab it from the tray in front of me, rotate my torso to extend my arm outward, and drop that little sucker straight onto the floor. And I will calmly watch it go splat. Bonus points if a dog comes along to eat it up.*

I'm done worrying about this kid's sleep habits. No matter what I do or don't do, whether I feel in control or not, whether I'm subscribing to the ideas of some author/guru or relying on my instincts alone, this too shall pass, and I'm finally ready to embrace that. I'm going to stop stubbornly ignoring how strong are the implications of two new teeth, many new words and a cold all in one week when it comes to falling and staying asleep. It's just hard, and we suffer, but we survive and it's okay.

Call it an epiphany, call it a nice night out with good friends and good beer, call it a timely rush of oxytocin--I'm feeling a bit at peace right now, so I'm just going to roll with it.





*My parents' wonderful dog, the eight-year-old yellow lab Lucy, was recently treated to a Lily cast-off. But she's so obedient, so subservient, that she did not take the rejected food until one of her parents gave her permission. I don't want a dog (right now) because no dog can live up to Lucy.

Correctnesses

Don't listen to my husband.

When your baby's tummy is exposed, and you place your mouth on the soft expanse and proceed to blow air so as to create the sound of flatulence, that is known as a poost. If you do the same, on a smaller scale, perhaps to someone's cheek, with lips puckered (not wide open), such an act is termed zerbet.

Poost and zerbet can coexist, and, indeed, they are related. There is an important distinction, however, and we must never call a zerbet what is most clearly a poost.

The cardboard tube found giving shape to your paper towels or wrapping paper is known as a do-do. That is "do" pronounced "doe." For when one places one's mouth in one end of the tube and makes sounds like a trumpet, one says "do-do."

One most certainly does NOT say "doo-doo," for such a scatological reference is loathsome and most undesirable.

Do not listen to my husband.

Habits

I have so many things I want to make regular habits. Such as

Knitting - I'd like to always have a knitting or crochet project going. I go in bursts on this one. I'll make a few things and eventually get overzealous, at which point my tendinitis kicks in and I have to set it aside for a while.

Going to bed early - Ha, yeah right. Often attempted, rarely achieved.

Getting up early - See above.

Drinking water - Water is so boring right now. So, I've replaced it with Diet Coke. This is Not Good.

Reading the Bible - Sometime in my life, I will have read the whole Bible from cover to cover. I'm following the 2-year plan in my Lutheran Study Bible, usually a week and a half's worth at a time every month or so. You could say I'm doing it, but it's not exactly a good habit right now.

Practicing piano/organ - Totally slumping here right now. Hard to do with a baby, awake or asleep.

Exercise - Was doing spectacularly until mid-September when I got sick, then Lily got sick, then her sleep habits went down the crapper (pardon my French), apparently permanently. I miss exercising.

No candy - The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Organizing the house - My occasional baby steps don't seem to make a dent.

I don't think there are enough hours in the day to always do all these things. But they are the things for which I strive. 

Stream of Consciousness

Erich, what shall I post about today? He replies: well, you could complain about Lily or brag about me OR brag about Lily. Or you could talk about the weather. OR you could do some very light political commentary.

Hm. I guess I'm finding my niche, eh?

Well, I still can't think of a topic for the day, so here's all the randomness going through my head right now.

I don't care what anyone says or chooses to worry about, 70 degrees in November is magnificent. I look forward to more days of mildness. I don't like having to bundle up myself and a wiggly toddlerish being just to go out. Frankly, Lily doesn't even have a warm coat. They don't really work well with car seats, so I'm going to see how long I can go by just keeping her in sweaters and piling on the warm blankets when needed.

I cannot WAIT to have a minivan. We're at the point where we could buy one now, but it's just better if we keep saving the money till we really have to pull the trigger. Getting around town is okay in the (old) Buick Century, but it's so worn out and uncomfortable for longer trips. I don't care if minivans scream "mom!" I am a mom and minivans are darn practical. And I want one.

Lily's sleep patterns are shifting. A week ago, she was still not even considering sleep until 10:00 or 11:00 at night. Last night she was down by nine and slept (with a few interruptions) until 7am. Tonight she started acting super sleepy by 6:00 and I got her down by 7:30. This is great, but I'm nervous about how early she's going to be up for the day tomorrow. I'm not a morning person and can't change my wake time as suddenly as she apparently can.

Old music (Baroque and earlier) is good for the soul. Especially in the fall, for whatever reason.

I'm taking baby steps to change this, because it's all I can do, but every room in my house still feels like I'm either packing for or unpacking from a move. I still can't be fully excited about the positive changes in the kitchen/living room/dining room because it's still not DONE and I keep forgetting to call our guy to find out when he's ever going to come finish the job. It does look so much better, though, and someday I really should do a proper post on the project. That would feel wrong when I could be using all that time to be making it all more livable.

Pause to appreciate the irony.




I'm so glad Erich is home all week.

I have to fold and put away laundry.

My baby is heavy. Also, my back is sore.



Fin

Why Kids Need Dads:

Because I would not and could not do this with any regularity:

But I suspect it's really good for building character.

And a whole host of other things as well. Because this kid gets thrown around and inverted by her daddy, she's used to a little bit of roughness. She belly laughs. She bonds with her daddy.

A mother's gentle, loving touch is one thing, but nothing can replace a good daddy.

10 Months

The kid is 10 months old.

I've been posting more, so it seems repetitious to recount all the major things she's doing right now, but here's what I can think of:

• She understands a LOT more than she can communicate. It seems like she knows a lot of words.
• In that vein, she knows two signs, which are usually accompanied by spoken words: "milk" ("mee mee") and "diaper" ("die die. . . peh peh"). I think she has fun doing the diaper sign and will sign and say it even when she's totally dry.
• She's got a destructive streak. She'll pick up an object and slam it against something else and softly smirk. She also studies things very closely, often in a methodical way, like her engineer father.
• We may be coming out the other side of the tunnel, sleep-wise, but for the record, I never said this. No sleep jinxes allowed!
• Her smile has evolved again. When she's very excited or telling a joke, she crinkles up her whole face with a wide smile and usually a hip bounce as well.
• Speaking of smile, she's got some upper teeth coming in. They look really close to popping through and she's writhing in pain a lot, but I won't be surprised if it's another week or two. This child's teeth don't like her.
• Everything is for climbing on or crawling to. Bravery increases as she lets go of things while standing up more and more often.
• Once she discovered she can take bites with her lower teeth, she started liking solid food more. She likes a lot of things, especially apple and her old favorite, rice.
• Her hair, where I once cut it, is growing out again. And I mean OUT. It's pretty tough to tame. Her shortest little hairs on the back of her head are very curly.

Eight to ten months ago, caring for this baby was like having to do 200 simple arithmetic questions per day. Exhausting, but relatively simple. Now it's like having to do only 10 problems, only now they're Calculus. And I never TOOK Calculus.

To add a dash of another metaphor, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I used to long for the day of predictable naps, more sleep at night, and increased interaction. Now I kind of miss the days when I didn't have to chase a wild animal around the house and continually baby-proof my life.

I wouldn't trade these last ten months with this kid for anything. She is a complete joy (no matter what I might say in the more challenging moments)!

Sunday

Weekend. Week end. Week beginning. Let us hope this coming week is easier than the last. It shall help immensely to have both parents at home.

After an exhausting and frustrating week followed by an exhausting but fun weekend, I don't have much to say.

It's All Saints Day (Observed). I am remembering the saints who have entered eternity this year, especially Louise B. and my grandmother, Eleanor G.

Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest--
The promise of salvation,
The place of peace and rest--
We know not, oh, we know not
What joys await us there:
The radiancy of glory,
The bliss beyond compare!


Within those walls of Zion
Sounds forth the joyful song,
As saints join with the angels
And all the martyr throng.
The Prince is ever with them;
The daylight is serene;
The city of the blessed
Shines bright with glorious sheen.


Around the throne of David,
The saints, from care released,
Raise loud their songs of triumph
To celebrate the feast.
They sing to Christ, their leader,
Who conquered in the fight,
Who won for them forever 
Their gleaming robes of white.


O sweet and blessed country,
The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessed country
That faithful hearts expect!
In mercy, Jesus, bring us
To that eternal rest
With You and God the Father
And Spirit, ever blest.


--Bernard of Cluny, 12th century