One more day

Pumpkin turns one tomorrow.  She will officially leave her status as an infant and cruise into pre-toddlerhood.  

Right now, though, at this very minute, she is asleep with her head in the crook of my arm and her hand on my chest. Usually when we get to this point, I might wait a few minutes and then put her in her crib for an afternoon nap.  But today is the day before her first birthday - which happens to fall on a busy and likely long Monday at work for me - so today I stay. And I get to hold my baby while she sleeps on a rainy Sunday afternoon.  

Nap on lap

Somehow I am sitting in a rocking chair, holding Pumpkin while she takes an afternoon nap.  

Of course I should put her down and fold some laundry or check on Bug downstairs or cook some dinners for the coming week.  

And it's hard to believe I get to hold her like  this when this past week found me working on a Sunday or coming home at 10 pm on a Monday or crying in the Mothers Room at work because I was pretty sure all of my milk was gone.  

What a gift to have a nap lap today.  

Like a cheetah

Pumpkin has tended to be a very good sleeper.  I like to joke that she understood early on that she had a choice between waking up repeatedly during the night or having a momma.  People almost never laugh at the joke - I think it might be so dark as to be unsettling.  But, frankly, those were dark days.  I can't help but believe that, on some level, Pumpkin understood how dire things were then, and she slept so that I could, too - for which I will be forever grateful.  

In the last few months, something (a million things?) changed, and Pumpkin would wake in the night.  For weeks, all we had to do was go into her room, put a paci in her mouth, and slowly back away.  Eventually, Pumpkin found the paci less soothing than the nice, warm parents who took turns coming into her room.  After one long night that involved very little sleep from 2:30 to 4 am, we let her cry it out.  It was awful.  She would cry.  I would cry.  My husband would suggest I sleep downstairs so I could get away from the trauma.  Like any self-respecting (read: self-punishing) momma, I refused.  And I might have even acted offended at the suggestion.   Because when you are sleep-deprived and your baby is crying and you are crying, of course it's offensive to be offered the opportunity to sleep.  Preposterous even.  

Everyone knows how the cry-it-out story ends though.  That's why we do it.  Because a few nights later, and for every night since, Pumpkin has slept through the night.   If she wakes and fusses, it lasts for a few minutes, we all remain in our own bedrooms (Squish and Bug excepting, of course), and we all go back to sleep.  

Last night, around 11:30 pm, Pumpkin cried a terrified-scream cry.  Not the I-just-woke-up-and-can't-find-my-paci cry.  A cry that led me to believe she would be burning up when I got to her.  Or that her crib had spontaneously fallen to pieces around her.  I threw back the covers, ran down the hallway, and picked her up.  I comforted her and rocked her until she calmed down and fell asleep again.  

I put her down in her crib.  I left the room, and she started to cry again.  I let her go for about ten minutes until she quieted and went to sleep.  

Then the scared-scream cry started again.  I went in, nursed her, and I let her reach up and pull my hair and squish my nose and my cheeks.  She fell into a deep sleep, and I was able to put her in her crib.  She stirred and fussed for a minute and then slept for the night.  

This morning, my husband and I were reliving the difficult night and talking about how awful Pumpkin's first cry was.  He gave me a hug and said, "I've never seen you run so fast - you were like a cheetah."

Like a cheetah, Pumpkin.  That's how I will always come running when you need me.  

Sorry (not sorry?)

This morning, Pumpkin had her nine-month check-up, and she wowed everyone with her smiles and babbles and curiosity. 

When we got to our car after the appointment, there was a man parking his motorcycle between the trunk of my car and the front of the car behind mine.  I thought about saying something like, "That is not a parking space - move your motorcycle."   

But then I remembered a man who yelled at me about parking a few weeks ago.  Even though I had done nothing wrong.  And I remembered how awful it felt to be yelled at by a stranger in the rain.  So when I saw that there was no other car parked in front of my car, and I could just pull forward to leave the space, I decided to give the motorcycle a break.  

Until I realized I needed to open my trunk to put away the stroller frame before we could drive away. 

I said to the parking interloper, "I need to get into my trunk.  Could you please move your motorcycle?"

He asked if I could open it without him having to move.  

I entertained his suggestion because, apparently I am very open to second-guessing.  I realized that, even if his motorcycle would not prevent me from opening my trunk, I would need to stand on his motorcycle while I placed the stroller frame into my trunk.  

I said, "I need to put my stroller away."

Pause.  

Then I said, "Sorry."

And he moved.  

Why on earth did I apologize?  

I know why I apologized.  I have seen enough of the research and that Pantene ad to get it.  

So, I am actually sorry Pumpkin had to witness my apology.  Pumpkin, do not apologize for some one else's error.  Do not apologize for pointing out the error so that you can use space in this world.  You and I are entitled to as much space - parking or not - as anyone else.  

Freezing Day at the Museum of Science

Yesterday morning it was -8 degrees when we woke up. The windchill was -29.  

But don't worry, we had a plan: spend most of the day at the Museum of Science. 

I got us tickets to a 4D movie _and_ the planetarium.  

I even managed to get all of us fed before our shows so that we didn't turn on each other in a hunger-induced meltdown about sugar-free jello.  Not that that has ever happened.  What hangry adult would insist her equally hangry six-year-old put down the sugar-free jello in favor of cookies and try explaining that "chemicals are worse than sugar!"?  Who would do that?

So, bellies full and meltdowns averted, we went to the 4D movie.  Bug chose his own seat in his own row, preferring to enjoy the movie alone perched on the edge of his seat, reaching out to touch vines and butterflies and turtles in the movie.  Meanwhile, Squish chose to sit on my husband's lap, leaning back and holding his 3D glasses on his face as if their magical powers warranted a little hand to remind them not to get too wild.  And my mom, Pumpkin, and I sat at the end of a row so that I could make a quick getaway if Pumpkin hated the experience (which she didn't because she is the world's best trooper). 

After the 4D show, we made our way toward the planetarium.  We were walking down a big, crowded corridor with the gift shop on one side and the entrance to the cafe area on the other when my mom asked, "Where is [Bug]?"

"He's up ahead.  I see him," I answered as I watched Bug zoom through all of the other families who had made similar Freezing Day plans.  I looked at my husband and said, "He wants nothing to do with us - haha."

My husband, Squish, Cora (in her stroller),  my mom, and I got to the end of the corridor, and we did not see Bug.  

Any parent reading this knows what happened next.  Time expanded and got really effing big and really effing slow.  My heartbeat got really effing loud.  

My husband calmly said he was going to look for Bug in the live animal area because we had mentioned it to the boys earlier in the day.  

I [pretend] calmly said, "Okay.  Good. Give me a call when you find him.  I will go back down the hall here [with the gift shop and cafe area]."

My mom asked what she could do to help, and I asked her to go with my husband. 

I pushed Cora in the stroller and held Squish's hand, and we retraced our steps as if we had dropped a toy.  

When we were going past the gift shop, Squish said, "I want a treat!!"

I told him no, and he asked why not.  "Because I have to find [Bug]," I said as we stopped to look around from the middle of the hall.  

I realized I didn't know what shirt Bug was wearing.  I wondered if I would even be able to pick him out of the crowd at this point because I was a dummy mom who didn't know what her kid looked like and (more to the point) because I was in a full blown panic.   

My phone buzzed, and I could see my husband at one end of the hall.   I thought he might be calling to say he had Bug.  But he shook his head when he saw me, and I looked at my phone to find  a random number was calling.  

"Hello?"

"Hi, [Momma]?"

"Yes???"

"Hi - this is [a fellow momma].  My son [Little Buddy] is in [Bug's] class - "

"Do you have Bug?!?!!"

"Yes! We are right by member services!"

And that is how I found Bug.  Safe and sound playing with his little buddy and his little buddy's twin brother.  

I wanted to fall into the arms of Little Buddy's parents and cry and cry and cry.  And thank them.  And cry.  And thank them some more.  

We have taught Bug and Squish that if they ever end up losing their grown-up and can't find them, then they should look for a grown-up with kids to ask for help.  Somehow Bug found a grown-up with kids who also happened to have my phone number.  

.  

Rainbow dash

"I want to whisper something in your ear," Squish told me as Bug and my husband were leaving for Kindergarten this morning.

I bent down to listen.

"I am going to squish Rainbow Dash," Squish whispered.

I suggested that it wasn't very nice to squish people.  Squish corrected me on two points: (1) Rainbow Dash is not a person - she is a pony; and (2) she is not real.

Fair enough.  I decided to let his imagination work its magic while I nursed Pumpkin before taking them both to school today.

The three of us made our way upstairs so I could nurse and rock Pumpkin, and I had suggested that Squish look at books on my bed.

When I checked on Squish before I settled in with Pumpkin, I saw him sitting on my bed, criss-cross-applesauce, staring at the wall ahead of him.

"[Squish], you don't want to read books this morning?"

Accomplishments

Proud to report that Pumpkin, who discovered her feet a mere ten days ago, can now put them in her mouth.  

Also, trying to blog daily this month is crazy difficult.  

Can it be NaBloPoMo every other day?

Too many priorities.   Trying to avoid the trap from everything being a priority (nothing will be a priority).

At this very moment, sleep has to be the priority.  Pumpkin is sleeping in her crib.  Bug and Squish are snuggled in their bottom bunk and sleeping.  

So I suppose this blog post is just a very long way of writing, "good night."

Mondays

Monday mornings are that time when I look at Pumpkin and realize how short the weekend was.  

Then I take her to daycare.  

And Monday evenings are that time when I realize how long weekdays are.  

Then I nurse Pumpkin and put her to bed.   

When Bug was a baby, I worked part-time (four days a week) until he was one.  I remember the night I did the math in my head while I nursed him at bedtime.  I calculated the number of waking hours he would be spending with the nanny and compared it to the number he had with me. I was okay because I had more.  

I worked part-time (four days a week) until Squish was almost nine months old. He and I had Fridays together just the two of us for months even after I returned to work.  

I can't afford to work four days a week now.  

 I know I am actually really lucky in so many ways, but Mondays just leave me feeling a little broken-hearted lately.  

Bright spot

When I wasn't checking social media for answers today, I was wrangling the boys.  

Into swim clothes

To swim lessons (Squish went; Bug abstained)

Out of swim clothes 

Into the car after Pumpkin started to go berzerk in her stroller on the playground 

Up the stairs to our front door

And so on and so forth

In the afternoon we decided to go to the grocery store for chocolate chips so that we could make cookies.  

More wrangling. 

Shoes.  

Jackets. 

Then in the middle of it all, Bug started singing a silly song while he danced in a circle around me.  

In my arms, Pumpkin was entranced.  She loved his song and dance and started to laugh. Her sweet, five-month-old belly laugh.  

I looked down to my right, and Squish was sitting cross-cross-applesauce with his palms facing upward meditating.  

That was my favorite moment today.  Absurd and light filled.   And I am  grateful for it.  

Paris

Keeping France in thoughts and prayers tonight.  

The bounce back

I offered to pick up all three munchkins today because my husband was making all of us a delicious dinner. 

First stop - Bug.  

His after school program takes place in a big gymnasium.  On one side of the gym, kids can draw, read, and have snacks.  On the other side, they usually play a sport.  

I didn't see Bug on the drawing side so went to check the sports side.  Not there either.  

I went back to the first side and found him sitting quietly, looking at the floor.  I asked how he was doing, and he said he felt sick.  

To his stomach.  

A long night of barfing flashed before my eyes, and I felt queasy myself. 

I brought Bug home to my husband and headed back out to get Squish and Pumpkin. 

 

Squish was easy to get today. He was in full Diligent Helper mode and went with me to get Pumpkin from the infant room. 

Pumpkin was tired but her usual, dear self.  Then one of her "teachers" told me that Pumpkin gets angry after she finishes bottles during the day, and that she needs more to eat.  

Nothing like feeling inadequate at the end of a drizzly fall day.  

Fifteen minutes later, when we were all home again, Squish asked, "Where is the ukulele?"

"The ukelele?!?!??"

"THE UKELELE I GOT FROM SCHOOL!!!!!!  WHERE IS IT?!?!!?" Squish explained. 

"Sweetie, it must be at school.  I didn't realize you won it this week."

"Aaaaaahhhhhrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!"

For about a minute this evening, it felt like everything was completely falling apart.  Oldest kid on the verge of the barfs.   Middle kid apoplectic about a ukelele.  And starving baby.  

Somehow the night actually turned out just fine. 

Pumpkin was a happy baby, blowing raspberries while I ate dinner.  Hardly a baby in need. 

Squish was a happy monkey, playing a rhyming puzzle game with my husband after dinner.  

Bug was a happy kid, practicing writing in a notebook while he curled up under a blanket in the family room.  

The daily tribulations sometimes seem to pile one on top of another until it isn't that easy to shrug them off.  But I think I can see (this evening, at least) that what goes down must go up around here.  Thank goodness.  

From the bedtime files

After rocking and nursing Pumpkin, it was finally time to put her in her crib.

With Bug and Squish, I often raced to this moment every night with an eye on the glass of wine that awaited.

With Pumpkin, I am in no hurry.  Ever.  I don't hope the day will come to an end.  I don't look at each developmental milestone as some kind of token we collect to be traded in for a big prize.  I hold her, we rock, she dozes, and we breathe.

A little green

Late fall is not exactly my favorite time of year. 

Of course I love the cooler temperatures and the clothes and boots.  I think pumpkins and mums on doorsteps are cute.  Butternut squash is delicious.

I live in New England, and the people here love fall.  It's their Time.  Summer is too hot for them.  Winter is brutal.  Spring is nice.  But they love fall.  They love driving around and looking at trees.  They love pumpkin spice lattes.  They love apple picking. 

I get it.  Those are lovely traditions.  But all I want to do is to pull everyone aside and whisper, "Can't you see what's happening?"

What I see happening is days shortening so much that the sun sets in the afternoon.  (The afternoon!)  I see trees with no leaves.  I see grass turning brown.

But we are settled here for many, many good reasons.  We are not moving to warmer climes for at least thirty years.  So I need to make peace with my regional climate.  And in an effort to restore the glass-half-full mentality, I decided to buy some indoor plants.  I thought a little green in our home would help.

Yesterday at the store, I picked up a very cute mini-hydrangea plant.  The clerk asked if I had any questions.

"Will this do well indoors for the winter?" I asked.

She said, "Yes.  You need to water that a lot."

"Okay!  Sounds good!" I exclaimed.

Then she looked at me as if she knew that I had not had the time to replace the shampoo that ran out a few days ago.  She seemed somehow aware of the fish that I couldn't keep alive a few months ago.

And she said, "Like every day."

So I bought the plant anyway because I am a secret optimist.

 

On the mend

I will not let strep and exhaustion throw me off of pursuing this weird little goal I set.  One post every day this month.  Today's is done.  Now I can go to sleep.  

Second sick day

Typing this as I nurse Pumpkin for her bedtime.  

Chills, fever, aches, and sore throat.  Strep.  As an adult.  Sucks.  Not like serious illness sucks.  Just like stuck in traffic for two days and afraid of getting your kids stuck in traffic sucks.  

Sick day

Technically this post keeps me working toward my goal of a post a day.  

COMMUNITY NEWS: Hip Hop Nutcracker

Just got a note with the press release below.  Take a look, and let me know if you go!

“The Hip Hop Nutcracker” Poised To Become Holiday Classic 

Show Kicks Off 12-City Tour with “King of Rap” Kurtis Blow in NYC

October 28, 2015 (New York, NY) —  On November 20 and 21 “The Hip Hop Nutcracker” returns to the United Palace (4140 Broadway at 175th Street, NY, NY) to kick off a 12-city tour, including Miami, Atlanta, St. Paul, Charleston, Charlotte, and Moscow, Russia.

The show features the music from Tchaikovsky’s “The Nutcracker”, 11 dancers, DJ Boo, an electric violinist, and digital scenery that complements the adapted storyline, which locates the action to New Year’s Eve in a contemporary WashingtonHeights community in New York City. The adaptation is respectful of the traditional narrative with references to beloved touchstones like the Mouse King and growing tree.

The production inserts the vocabulary of hip hop movement to what has traditionally been a classical ballet, broadening the audience for the art form. The variety of styles represented (breaking, popping, locking, etc.) serve as a history lesson of hip hop dance.

“What better way to bring people together during the holidays than to combine different popular art forms to reach as wide an audience as possible, then dip this classic story in a contemporary setting that celebrates community,” said Mike Fitelson, executive director of the United Palace of Cultural Arts who adapted the story and is supplying the imagery for the scenery. “This production is the perfect symbol of how we are combining old and new to reinvent the United Palace. It has become a new holiday tradition here.”

How many toys is the right number of toys?

Yesterday, a friend posted something online about Christmas presents - the suggestion that Christmas should involve four gifts:

- Something a kid wants;
- Something a kid needs;
- Something to wear;
- Something to read.

Apparently, this suggestion has been wandering around the internet for several years now.  But, always late to the party, I just found out about it.

Here were my four immediate reactions (in order of experience):

Fashionably late to NaBloPoMo

The fact that I am only a day late to the NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) party feels like a genuine accomplishment these days.

Today's post is very short - a simple declaration that I will be blogging every day for (the rest of) the month of November.

Look out, world.