Little baby, big baby

9/13/13 Note: This was a post that I had written around Easter time that got lost in the recesses of the Draft section.




The Easter Bunny was good to Collin this year, in that he brought him his first excuse to PIMP  the jacket that makes him look like my grandpa Morton from The Old Country. In a good way.
It was the first piece of clothing, amongst a pile of "First  Clothing", that we got at a yard sale on a Saturday morning when we first found out we were pregnant. I had just finished working a night shift, and we had no intentions of garage sale shopping, but there it was on the side of the road. We suddenly found ourselves descending upon it like a Lion on the slow buffalo at the watering hole. Without saying, we both knew exactly what we were looking for: baby stuff. Any kind of baby stuff. And boy, did we find it (those people had twins!).
We had no idea what the sex of the baby was (which was irrelevent,  because we never ended up finding out for the whole duration of the pregnancy), but we knew that that child of ours, girl or boy, was going to own that jacket. And then we looked at each other and we suddenly knew, for the first time, that we were going to be parents. Real parents. But most of all, we knew we were going to love it, and we were going to have an awesome kid, a kid we were going to be proud of and find joy in.
I think it was then that I hit a new phase of my life. Motherhood. The shock of the positive pregnancy test wore off, and I was plunged into new waters, a place I had been yearning for for so long. Suddenly, nothing was more  important to me than that little life I was chosen to bear, to sustain, to nurture. I made it my life's work.
But back to the Easter Bunny, who was also good to Collin in that he brought Collin his alligator family. The alligator family started out as one rubbery lizard, followed by a package of cheap, plastic lizards, that became babies. So the big lizard became the daddy. Oh, and they're all alligators. Or, "Ayegaygahs."
I'm always finding Papa "Ayegaygah" lounging around in the weirdest positions, so of course I've developed the odd habit of photographing him.
I don't know why.

Update 9/13/13: Daddy Ayegaygah is now just Daddy Lizard. The original Daddy Lizard disappeared one day, and Collin never stopped searching for him. For a while, we were reading The Velveteen Rabbit, and I tried to use the Nursery Fairy idea from the story. "Oh, perhaps the Nursery Fairy has taken Daddy Lizard to the redwoods to be a Real lizard, just like the Velveteen Rabbit." Collin would just look at me blankly. Not buying it, mom.

Thankfully, we happened to find a brand new Daddy Lizard at Rite Aid. Collin was SO excited to "Find" him. But what's with that extra white paint on his mouth? Daddy Lizard didn't have that before he got lost. Must have been eating too much vanilla ice cream at Rite Aid.

Pregnancy: Version 2.0

It's been eighteen weeks since I went to the doctor's office for a pre-surgery appointment, only to find out there would be no surgery for me anytime in the near future. I was pregnant.

This is a picture of us, taken by my doctor, moments after we found out. Collin is holding my positive pregnancy test in a sample cup. We are elated, and stunned. Or, if you're Collin, very confused, but happy that everyone else is happy.

So funny that my last blog post was about feeling ready to be pregnant. So much has happened between that post, and this one. Shortly after I wrote my last post, I was hospitalized for a ruptured ovarian cyst, and began a long medical drama that I thought would never end. The pain from the cyst never stopped. I was bounced from one doctor to another, in almost constant, unbearable pain. Finally, my regular OB returned to work from her maternity leave, immediately pinpointed what was likely the key issue (Endometriosis), and implemented a plan to fix it (minor lacroscopic surgery). God bless her. Only, I had to throw a wrench in her plans, and get pregnant. The funny thing is, by that point, after being out of commission for so long, both Husband and I were beginning to wonder if we were really ready for a second baby. Add financial stress to the mix, and we were REALLY wondering. Ironically enough, I was prepared to ask my doctor about putting in an IUD during surgery, something I never thought I was willing to do.

As for the pain, it's gone now. Thank you, pregnancy hormones! The natural progesterone in pregnancy is an endometriosis pain killer.

So now, there's going to be four of us. I'm almost halfway through the pregnancy already, which feels surreal. This whole scenario feels surreal. Collin is such a big part of our lives right now, and has been since the moment I found out I was pregnant with him, that it's hard to factor in a new baby. I routinely forget I'm pregnant, until I feel a little reminder kick. It's so different from my first pregnancy, where I was SO aware of the baby, that there was no room for anything else in my life. Baby was all I could think about. I had wanted to be a mother for so long. I always figured I would be married three to five years before having kids, but it never worked out that way. I was married and pregnant in the same year. I was happy to have Husband in my life, but there was something missing, a piece to the puzzle that felt like a gaping hole. We wanted a baby so badly. We needed a baby. When Collin came along, we were complete. Almost complete. We still knew we wanted more children, but didn't know how or when. We had our ideal timing (which, accidentally, happened to be the way it worked out) and felt the baby fever kicking in again. We started trying, but I wasn't conceiving, and then the whole endometriosis circus came to town, and I was beginning to wonder if it could be causing infertility. I had a lot of questions, and I was coming up confused, and empty.

I'm not worried at all about the baby. I've been there, I've done that, I know what I'm doing. I'm not worried at all about the birth. The baby is going to come out any way it comes out. I'm going to be receiving great medical care, and doula support this time. And believe me, Collin was a giant newborn- he has paved the way. In my mind, there is a high likelihood of this birth being a lot smoother than my first. I'm not really worried about much, to be honest, save for Collin's reaction to the baby. Thankfully, he LOVES babies. I mean, he loves them more than any other two-year-old boy I have ever seen. He seeks them out and talks to them and kisses them. He has been so fascinated by this whole process, and regularly talks to the baby in my belly. I'm not delusional enough to think he'll welcome a newborn into our lives without a glitch, but I do have much confidence in him. He's going to make a great big brother.

I have mixed reactions when I think about the new baby. On one hand, it will be great, and I know this. It will be so great. I will have another little person to fall in love with, and I'm amazed. On the other hand, I know exactly what I'm getting into. I know I won't sleep again for another two years. I know I will have moments where I feel overwhelmed. I know my house is going to lose all sense of order and baby chaos will descend upon us. This time, without the luxury of a dish washer OR access to laundry machines. But, I am looking forward to having a little more space this time around, as opposed to the first time we brought home a baby to our studio apartment. It will be nice to have a little breathing room. We're in a one-bedroom now, which still means we all still sleep together in a big pile, but at least it's a very spacious one bedroom. And as for the sleeping arrangements (We've been getting a lot of questions about that), we would all sleep in a pile even if we lived in a five bedroom house. We are in love with co-sleeping. It has NOT always been easy, but it has bonded us as a family in ways I can't even describe. I can't wait to do it again (even though I know it will mean nursing all night, and occasionally waking up covered in pee from a diaper explosion).

Collin is such a big boy now, it kind of makes sense to be having another baby. Babyhood is something I feel like I know like the back of my hand. I was so engrossed in Collin's babyhood, that I almost feel out of place without a baby in my arms. Does that make sense? I suppose it's because I came alive when Collin was born. I found my calling. Motherhood is the only thing in my life that has felt so instinctual and made so much sense, even when it was really difficult. And it was, don't get me wrong. There were many moments where I felt like the most inadequate mom in the world. But, at the end of the day, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. Collin is getting so big, so fast. I can hardly keep up. Thankfully, he makes a great two-year-old. I'm not saying he doesn't have moments where he's on the floor screaming because his banana broke. And let's not forget the boundless energy that makes him zip around the house like a wind-up toy. But he's always had such a knack for making me laugh, and I feel like it's only gotten better as he gets older. The way the first thing he says when he sits up in bed every morning is, "I need coffee." The way he loves to be wrapped up in a towel like a burrito and asks me to pretend to be his mommy burrito. It's the little things that keep me smiling all day. Even though he is a big boy now, he's still so little and innocent. He is still so optimistic about the world and everyone around him. I treasure the way he is right now. I know strawberries won't be pronounced "Sawbooies" and blueberries won't be pronounced "Boobooies" forever, and that makes me nostalgic and a little sad. But then, I remember I get to do it all over again with the coming baby, and I feel relieved, with a healthy dose of "Oh my god. All. Over. Again."

I mean, it did take us two years to get this far, and in that way, I kind of can't believe we're going to start from square one again. A newborn. Up all night. Pooping yellow mustard poops. Crying whenever we put it down. Oh my god.

There will be big, big changes coming up for our little family in the next year. Not just talking about a brand new life entering the world, which is plenty big enough. I'm trying to remain optimistic about everything, and remain an open book waiting to be written. I am remaining in a space of acceptance and calm. At least, for now. We'll see where this next year takes us!

Sleep, and Sleepability.

Collin is almost two, so why has that suddenly opened up sleep anxiety for me? Surely, by now, I must be used to the bed sharing, breastfeeding-all-night version of sleep.

And yes, I am. And I keep it up not just for Collin's enjoyment, but for the sheer fact that I love his little body next to mine at night. I love the warmth of his feet against my belly, and the sound of his little snores. Are you with me, here, fellow parents? Is there nothing sweeter than your child in the throws of sleep?

I suppose my renewed interest in getting Collin to sleep would be because we hope to have another baby on the way, another little creature to keep my belly warm with their feet. Another little heartbeat to feel through a onesie, another little person to nurture, and nurse, and adore. I feel like we're ready to expand as a family, ready to love, and love, and love.

So, that takes us to Collin and Sleep. Sleep. God, how I labored over that word for about a year and a half, until something finally changed for me. It wasn't by doing the normal parent things I hear my friends talking about, such as, transitioning the baby to his own space, or weaning (Although I suspect our flirtation with night weaning had something to do with it). It wasn't Collin, or at least not solely Collin. I think what changed for me, was me. I have been embracing divine motherhood, looking hard at myself as a mother, as a person, as a guide for Collin in this life, on this earth. Taking in the enormity of my truth, that Collin chose us to be his parents, me to be his mother. It was when I finally stopped thinking my job as his mother was to mold or shape him to be the person I thought he should be, and began to understand that Collin has his own shape, his own place in this world, and it is perfect just the way it is. He's loud. He plays rough. There is always something crusted on his shirt, and anything he is set infront of to eat always ends up on the floor or in his water cup. I don't try to change that about him anymore. Now, it makes me laugh and love him all over again. In fact, I've felt lately like I've finally gotten the hang of this motherhood thing, I finally feel one-step ahead of it, like I can actually handle a parenting situation I've never been in before. So why, then, did I fail so badly today?

Collin woke to nurse mid-nap, as usual. To be honest, I didn't know what would happen if I didn't nurse him back to sleep, because I've always valued A Good Nap too much to find out (Wouldn't any parent?). I always assumed it would involve lots of crying and being awake and angry about it for the rest of the evening. I was right, and I was wrong. Collin did go back to sleep today after he woke up and I, for the first time, refused to nurse him. However, I was right about the crying, only it was way worse than anything I could have imagined. It went on for about an hour, and involved lots of flailing and screaming and almost vomiting from the sheer exertion of it all. Collin has never vomited before (except the time he vomited on me when he put his Buddha figurine too far in his mouth- "Oh, honey!" I cried. "Oh, Buddha!" Collin answered).  Definitely not from screaming, he's not really a screamer by nature. In fact, I could hardly remember a time when I had seen Collin this upset. Somehow, I stayed strong, no matter how many times I told myself, "OK, I don't care anymore. This isn't worth it. I'll nurse him as soon as he catches his breath." 

Only he would catch his breath, and instead of giving him a boob, I would just take a breath, myself, and continue to pat his back and Shhh.

Then it was over, and he actually fell asleep without nursing, for the first time ever, and I almost cried with relief. It had turned into a power struggle, something I hate and avoid at all costs.


I wish I could say that when Collin woke up, everything was back to normal. I wish I could say that he woke up smiling and talking about fruit and things that go 'beep', like he usually does. Instead, he slept fitfully, and woke up screaming. For the rest of the day, things were a little weird for us, and it was the first time I'd ever experienced anything like it. We spent the rest of the day holding each other and not talking at all about the terrible hour we'd spent battling wills. I realized, I was repeating an old family tradition of mine, one that goes a little something like, "if you don't talk about it,  it's like it never happened. "

 So, I picked myself up off the floor of my Self-imposed Bad Motherhood Moment, brushed myself off, and gave my child a kiss. I gave myself one, too, because you can't move on unless you show yourself compassion.  Then we talked about it, a little. And I I decided there must be a better way to get through a nap. Any suggestions? In the meantime, I'm feeling grateful for what I have, for the big spirit in a small package that is Collin, whom I am helping in this world. I am loving every minute of being a family of three, because things will change, I know this. Our family will expand, when the time is right. For now, I will love motherhood as I know it now, in good moments, and bad.

My crazy family

Last night, we ate at a restaurant.

There's always a point these days, shortly after arriving and being seated, when the two seconds of restaurant crayon novelty have worn off, and Collin is climbing all over everybody and pounding his spoon on the table, and I'm wondering, "Whose idea was this, again?"

The answer is usually: Mine.

We've made a habit of leaving a healthy tip after a meal, because, as most parents of busy toddlers can attest, the mess is catastrophic. We're talking the rice ground into the carpet, tables sticky with drinks that have been dumped repeatedly, and broccoli that lands on the other side of the restaurant variety.  Usually, I'm so engrossed in keeping Collin from singlehandedly destroying every other person's dining experience, that I kind of go into this "restaurant zone," and neglect everything else around me. But, last night, I could only wonder what we must have looked like to the outside world, to the other diners and wait staff.

There I am, pouring my decaf coffee down my gullet, because being in a restaurant is a special occasion in and of itself, and normal health rules go out the window. Thus, my coffee is LOADED with those toxic flavored creamers that make it nothing short of liquid crack. The evidence is the embarrassingly gluttonous army of empty creamer cups surrounding my side of the table. As the waitress clears them with a fork lift, she reassuringly says, "I like cream in my coffee, too." Um, yeah. Not as much as I do, apparently.

There's Collin, disheveled with his long hair in his eyes, eating his mac & cheese face first out of the bowl, like a barn animal eating from his trough. Every now and then, he takes a break for a big bite of his crayon with a zestful, "Mmmm!" And where are his parents during all of this? Why aren't they correcting him? ("We eat with a spoon, Honey. Like a person.") Oh, they're right there beside him, shoveling their food into their faces as fast as they can so they can finish before he does and starts to get bored again. They're just happy he finished his spoon drum solo.

Who are these people?? How did I become this family? This weirdo, wacky family that I love so much?

My cup dumpeth over.

Surprise endings.

I hear it before I have a chance to even see it, and I instantly know what has happened. I hear the familiar bloop bloop of water sloshing around in the coveted, "Adults only," glass that Collin's noodle arm has somehow swiped off the table. Now, here he comes around the corner, his face a mask of delight as he clutches his prize.

This can end in one of two ways:
A) There will be a flood of water all over the living room that will soak up all our paper towel rations, and potentially damage something.
B) There will be a flood of water, and a million shards of glass all over the place that skitter in every direction after the cup is flung to the floor. Damage is definite.

Added to my dilemma, is the fact that I am exhausted, and even the thought of impending glass doom  is not motivation enough to get off the couch and fetch the glass from the baby. Collin pauses when he sees me, and I put on my best fake happy face. I reach out my hand, and say, "Give it to Mommy! Give it to Mommy!"

What a rookie mistake. Collin is instantly aware of how much I really don't want him to have tha!t water glass, and he smiles even wider, clutches it to himself, and shuttles away like a hunchback, eyeing me warily. Now, it's serious. Game on. We both just stare at each other for a minute, testing each other out.  I've still got my plastered grin on my face, and Collin is still giddy with mischief. I'm beginning to realize that he is not going to throw the cup, at the same time he is beginning to realize that I am not going to get off the couch.

Slowly, without taking his eyes off me, he brings to glass to his lips. Only... Rats! He has suddenly forgotten how to tilt it and drink. I see my moment to strike.

"Bring it to Mommy. Mommy will help."

He hesitates. Should he trust me? Is it all a lie?

He edges a little closer.

"That's it! Bring it to Mommy!"

Careful now, I remind myself,   don't want to sound too eager and rouse suspicion.

At last, he is within reach. He brings the cup to my lips, and I gratefully pretend to drink. He relaxes, and I relax. Suddenly, he is straddling my lap, feeding me the water, and dumping it all over himself 
in his attempt to drink out of the grown-up glass. Collin is feeling very proud of himself, and so am I.

Suddenly, I am seeing that there is a third way this can end, an option C:

Nobody cries, nobody gets hurt, and I realize just how far Collin has come. And I am eternally grateful for moments like these. 

The business of growing up

Every day, I wake up, and everything is the same, yet different. Collin is growing so fast, it almost isn't noticeable. I go about my days in a blur, and by the end of the week, I find myself standing amidst a whirlwind of toddler chaos, wondering, how long has Collin been talking like that? Since when has he been putting his boots on by himself? And what happened to my baby??

What happened to my baby? In all honesty, I’ve stopped asking myself that question for a while now. My little tiny baby is long gone, to be replaced with this exuberant little person that is so so busy discovering the world. And, actually, I’m not too sad about it. That is, until I stumble across a video of him, weeks old, with his little grunts and sniffles and innocence. I do love the Collin I have now. He’s so silly and curious, case in point, tonight:

Collin: Picks up a shoe and puts it on his hand, like a puppet. His face screws up in confusion. He knows a shoe is supposed to be put on, but he can’t remember where. He looks at me for reinforcement.

Me: “Your shoes go on your feet, love.”

Collin: His face lights up. Aha! That’s right! Shoes go on feet.

I know its been awhile since I’ve blogged here. So what does my life look like now?

Collin still sleeps in our bed, but he starts out in his own “big boy” bed: a toddler mattress on loan from V, on the floor of our room, squeezed between the wall and our own mattress on the floor (mattress on the floor is the safest way to go if you’re bed sharing). Collin is very pleased with this. His bed is his very own space in this house, which is such a shared mismatch of the three of us. Our books and Hindu statues right amongst his toys and treasures. Given the unavoidable nature of our one-bedroom apartment, there is no nursery, no toy room. Also, given the unavoidable nature of Collin’s curiosity and his long, gangly arms, there is very little space that is out of Collin’s reach.  There is almost nothing we use that Collin does not use.

In our lives, in my mind, in my heart, Collin has bloomed into an active member of our family, as opposed to the adorable but helpless infant, that you love, but only stares at you blankly when you talk to him. Collin has a lot to say, all the time, with his words, but mostly with his signs. Milk, food, kitty, please, Mickey Mouse, water. His hands are in constant motion, communicating with us in ways he wouldn’t be able to otherwise. I’m so glad we use signs with him. He catches on to new signs so quickly these days, we only have to show him a new sign once, and he’s off.

My days have been considerably less lonely now that Collin is “a person,” with opinions and communication, and his devilish sense of humor. The baby days can be so isolating. I miss the warm bundle of baby that used to hold still in my arms long enough for me to bury my nose in his little neck and breathe him in, but I don’t miss the hours of talking to myself. Collin, while engaging and loud and crazy, is also so mellow and go-with-the-flow. He is so much like Husband and me. He is game for anything, thrives without the constraint of a rigid schedule, loves a good adventure, and is happy to spend the whole day out of the house, doing something.

I couldn’t anticipate the feeling of swelling love/ pride/ joy/ astonishment whenever Collin tries to mimic something we do, or shows some amazing leap of independence and budding personhood: like tonight, when he jumped onto the couch, straddled my lap, took my bowl and spoon out of my hands and started feeding me my corn flakes. Complete with the little encouraging lip-smacks. Sometimes, I can only stare at him in wonder. This business of growing up is so huge, so beyond what I can comprehend. Collin is becoming the person he will be for the rest of his life, and I am his mother, his mother. The core of his self-esteem and self-worth, his courage, his security.

All in all, I’d say, at 17 months, we’re doin pretty well.

If you look through the archives of my blog, you will find that I crawl into a blogging hole during the month of May (and the majority of June, apparently). Why, you ask?

Well, last May (last month), I was knocked off my feet and sat on the ground staring at this toddler that was my baby. Who is this child? How did he get here, with his opinions and willfulness? What happened to my little baby, the one that doesn’t demand to charge ahead of me and pave a path of adventure, to a world outside of Mommy?

The May before that, I was so, so, so unbelievably, incredibly, sadistically pregnant. I was almost two weeks late after bracing myself for an early delivery.  The whole nine months flew by until those last weeks that lasted FOREVER. Husband had long started to take his time off work . He took over a month off, and for weeks, we lived in this state of suspended reality. We were convinced I would give birth the next time I sneezed, and lived with our hospital bag by the door. At the same time, as I drifted further and further down the calendar, away from my due date, we were also convinced I was some strange medical phenomenon and would, in fact, be pregnant forever. They were going to have to put me in the book of world records for having the longest. Pregnancy. Ever.


I felt as though I had sailed along happily through my first nine months, smiling and waving as though I were on a parade float. Being pregnant is wonderful! I love every minute of this, even the Braxton hicks contractions and the ligament pain! …Then, suddenly, my parade float took a wrong turn down a condemned street, and I’m looking around thinking, “This aint’ what I signed up for…” And Collin, being the prankster that he is (he gets that spirit from his father. And from his mother.), decides to wait until four hours before my scheduled induction to begin labor spontaneously. Now that Collin is resembling a real live person these days instead of a squawking, crying infant creature, I am noticing that yes, he does enjoy a good joke. And if that joke is on his mother, he really enjoys it. Look at the way her whole face turns red when I repeatedly stick my finger up the grimey, rusty water faucet! Watch what happens when I chew on my dirty shoe again and again no matter how much it drives her crazy! The truly hilarious part is that when he does something mischievous, he does it with his eyes glued to my face, and he is smiling with his whole body, almost squirming in anticipation of my reaction. He glows with excitement. He is old enough to tease me, but still young and precious enough to wear his wild joy right there on his sleeve, for the world to see. He doesn’t censor himself, and his pleasure is so contagious that soon I’m giggling along with him.

So he’s a year old. A year. I spent his first birth month in disbelief, and reflection. I asked myself a lot of questions. I reminisced a lot. I thought about the looks of shock and/ or horror on my family and friend’s faces when I talk about sleeping in a family bed, extended breastfeeding, our plans to home school, my joy about being a full-time, stay-at-home mom. I thought long and hard about the way we’ve raised Collin thus far, the attitude I did it with, the fears (and fears, and fears) I’ve encountered. And also, the happiness.

So, I guess the other reason I've been absent from this blog is because I've been working on this one! It's my  new blog about Collin's home school adventures. We've just been busy bees all over the place these days, sorting, stacking, and playing.

Happy first birthday, Collin. Happy first year of being a mom, me.