This and that, not entirely baby related for a change

January 26, 2009 | Bits and Bobs, Clark

Yesterday I went back to Bikram Yoga for the first time in about 9 months. I nearly DIED. Seriously. It was pretty traumatic. It’s NEVER been that hard for me. Even when I first started, I was starting out in good shape. Apparently lactating doesn’t count for exercise as much as I thought. Well, to be fair, there were more people than I’ve ever seen there, so it was crazy hot. One person even left in an ambulance. No shit.

…..

Last weekend, my friend Loll was visiting, and I decided to use her presence as bait to get another friend to come over. It didn’t work, but there was a pretty funny ‘who’s on first’-esque text message exchange as a result:

Me: You busy tonight? Wanna come over? Few beers? Few laughs? Loll is here…

Me: Oops! Wrong Person!

(At this point, I’d suddenly noticed that even though I thought I’d chosen my friend Peter from my contacts, it now said Cindy P. on top of the message, who happens to be Loll’s MOM.)

Cindy P: HA HA HA HA HA

Me: HE HE

Cindy P: You’re hilarious. Much love to the three of you (oh and Loll too)

Me: Thanks! We’re cracking up, too!

So I try again…

Me: You busy tonight? Wanna come over? Few beers? Few laughs? Loll is here…

Then I noticed that even though I was extra careful this time, it STILL said Cindy P. on top of my message!

Me: Oh Damn!

Me: HA!

Me: I’m trying to text Peter but I keep getting you! New phone. Sorry!

Cindy P: Are you pulling my leg? Or have you gone ’round the bend?

Cindy P: This is Peter. Now I’m confused.

At this point, I called him and we sorted it all out. Apparently, when I was transferring numbers from my old phone to my new one, I put Peter’s number in for Loll’s mom, too. Isn’t it a good thing we figured out what was going on? Wouldn’t I have looked like a huge asshole otherwise? I also realized that he texted me after Clark was born and we had a small conversation that I thought I was having with Loll’s mom the whole time. I may have even said something like, “Look at you texting!” HA.

…..

Okay, I said it wasn’t ENTIRELY baby related, giving the impression it was perhaps PARTIALLY baby related.

Check this out:

He smiles! And this one’s sort of half mast! I haven’t been able to get a real, full, gummy one on film yet. I can’t even begin to explain how much more satisfying this whole gig is when you’re periodically rewarded with a smile.

Strikes and gutters, etc.

January 21, 2009 | Clark

One day last week, SB and I took Clark on his first walk on the Waterfront. It was the first time using the stroller, and it was poor Freya’s first walk in far too long, the poor dear. Despite it being ass cold, it went really well! Clark slept the whole time, we were able to stay out longer than planned, and I even got to use the cup holder on my stroller when we stopped for a coffee treat.

Then over the weekend, we had a guest in town, and we attempted this adventure again.

Um, yeah. FAIL.

Clark hates his carseat, but will usually stop screaming in protest once we’ve been driving for a few minutes. Well, this time, he didn’t. I thought the motion of the stroller would do it, so we optimistically began our walk. But he kept crying. At this point, we’re not talking about your typical, “please pick me up” cry, or “Excuse me, but my shorts are full” cry, but more like an “I am experiencing extreme torture and my parents don’t love me” cry. It sounds kind of like a car alarm in the repetitive nature of the bleets, but more scratchy and low. Also, as I am biologically programmed to respond to this particular creature’s distress, our sunny walk was quickly turning into torture for me, too. I started walking faster and faster, “It’s okay, baby”-ing in vain, and frantically began searching for a bench to stop at, all the while getting further and further from the car. Finally a bench materialized, thankfully a bit away from the path, facing the water. I took him out of his seat, clenched him to my chest, and started balling, too. It was crazy. I felt all of a sudden like we were in the wild or something and I needed to keep him safe.

The answer to calming his distress was obviously to feed him, but now that seemed ridiculous. I found myself trying to wrestle my newborn, dressed just in pajamas, under my numerous layers, on a cold ass day, wind coming off the water, to my breast. I imagine I’m not accurately conveying our distress, but as far as Clark and I were concerned, there may as well have been tigers circling.

I fed him for about two minutes, then put him back into his seat, abandoning the walk, and started heading for the car. The “I’m being tortured” cry started again, and I started walking as fast as I could, hoping my still flowing tears were covered by my sunglasses. I kept having to make those “aw shucks, poor thing” smiles at the happy people we kept passing, all the while still feeling the tigers circling.

Of course, just as the car came into sight, he fell asleep. We survived, but I don’t think I’ll be attempting another walk any time soon.

Month One

January 14, 2009 | Clark

Dear Clark,

Today you are one month old! In a way it seems like you were born last week some time, but I also can’t really remember what life was like without you.

I think we’re sort of getting the hang of each other. The nights are still long and difficult, and I can’t say we have any kind of pattern established, but I’m feeling less anxiety and dread when nighttime rolls around.

In the last couple of days, your awake-and-not-fussing time has increased. About a week ago, this was nearly non existent! But over the last few days, we’ve had some really lovely moments where you look around and flail your silly arms and sometimes even coo a little. Also, twice now, I think you’ve smiled at me on purpose.

There’s still a good deal of this. The secret seems to be variety. So, you cry, I feed you and that works for a while. The you cry some more, and we change you, and you are happy again. Then, you get fussy once more, and it’s time for a swaddle and a bounce on the yoga ball, which usually puts you to sleep for an hour or so. Then I get to shower or return emails while you hang out in your swing or your sling. Eventutally you fuss, and this all starts over again. I’m learning to make you my only focus, which makes this all a rewarding process, giving me a sense of accomplishment each time I figure out what you need.

I can’t believe how much I love you. I spend an embarrassing amount of time sniffing you, kissing you, inspecting all of your parts, then ultimately crying because I know someday you will grow up and break my heart. I know this is most likely due to my crazy hormones, but I start thinking about how soon you won’t let me snuggle you, and that one day you won’t need me anymore, and you’ll have secrets and a completely separate life. Crazy.

As is true for every life, I just need to be present in this moment and appreciate these times when I’m allowed to stick my nose in your mouth while you’re crying and smell your sweet baby breath.

Love, Mama

Strikes and Gutters, Ups and Downs

January 9, 2009 | Clark

First of all, thank you all so much for your comments and emails about my last post. I guess I made things sound a little more dire than they actually are. Yes, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m fine, we’re fine.

There are just as many wonderful moments as there are difficult ones. The smell of his little head, the many many faces he makes while he’s sleeping, getting to put him in fresh fuzzy jammies, these things bring me so much joy. The best, though, is when someone else has been holding him and he starts to cry and they hand him back to me, I can feel his tense little body relax and just melt in to me. Me! I’m his mama.

My friend Stepheni that I met at the Me Ra Koh workshop came over the other day and took pictures of us. This one is my favorite. It makes me feel like the two of us are going to make it.

Breathe in, breathe out

January 6, 2009 | Clark

I don’t feel like I was adequately prepared for this stage. There’s nothing anyone can say to prepare you for how hard this is. It’s just relentless. In this stage, he needs me all the time. I’m slowly learning how to meet his needs, but when he’s upset and I can’t figure out what to try next, and it’s late and I’m tired, I just cry right along with him.

Something I’m trying to be Zen about, is that right now, in this moment of my life, taking care of him has to be the only thing I’m doing. I want this to sound Zen and not martyr-y, like I’m afraid it does. What I mean is, meeting his needs has to be the ONLY thing I’m doing. When I try to do ANYTHING else, like eat, or shower, or something frivolous like watch TV or blog, and he starts to fuss, I get annoyed, and he gets more upset. But really, that’s just me being selfish. He needs something from me, but I get mad because I can’t do what *I* want to do at the moment. Do you see what I mean?

The other night, I’d had an intense couple of days without leaving the house at all and I REALLY wanted to go to Target. All day I was supposed to be able to go, but SB was working and couldn’t take Clark. Finally, he got his work done and told me to go. Clark was settled on his lap on the Boppy and I had my coat on and my purse over my shoulder when one of SB’s clients called. Of course Clark started to fuss. I took off my coat, ditched my purse and took Clark back to the Recliner of Lactation and cried and cried.

As SB proceeded to get a few more important phone calls over the next hour, I knew I’d made the right choice. I know that he would’ve felt very frustrated trying to work and take care of Clark at the same time. Like I said, this has to be the ONLY thing you’re doing.

All of this came to me as we snuggled together and we both stopped crying. Then of course he fell asleep and I was able to nuzzle him and sniff his head and take this picture.

Is it wrong that I love my baby the most when he’s sleeping?

Sometimes it’s good to be up at the asscrack

January 4, 2009 | Clark

I’m not going to lie, the sleep deprivation component to this whole parenting gig is pretty effing brutal. The wee hours are the only time when I feel my grip on sanity slipping a bit.

However! This morning, had I not been changing a diaper at some ungodly hour, I would have missed the opportunity to take pictures of the following two beautiful things:

I haven’t seen the Mountain in quite a while.

Look at his cute ducky fuzz hair!