Making a life that's more with less.
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I started to write a big long-winded post about our trip to the doctor today. Then I reminded myself that this blog post is supposed to be part of the 30-minute blog challenge. So, I erased it. Not only would it take too much time, it also wouldn’t do me much good to rehash everything that happened or the way it made me feel. But I do want to clear one thing up, I am not spoiling my child.
Spoiling refers to rotten fruits and vegetables. Things that have gone bad, truly bad.
My one-year-old babe is far far from being spoiled.
He is funny.
He is loved.
He has two parents that would go to the moon and back for him.
He can build towers of three blocks now.
He figured out how to stack his stacking rings, though not in the proper order yet.
He turns the pages of books.
He communicates, having perfected his sign for milk and up. Saying his version of “bye-bye,” “all done” and “uh-oh.”
He loves to play tag.
He loves to cuddle and give kisses in the morning.
He adores being rocked to sleep.
He counts on having us there when he wakes.
He can spend hours running around the house with his wheely bug.
At the park the swing is the most amazing thing in the world to him, until he goes on the slide. Then, that is the most amazing thing.
He is truly captivated by the world and what goes on around him. He watches. Listens. Tests and tries. He discovers new things daily, hourly.
He is an amazing little person and I am so proud and honored to be his mama.
And, one more time just so we’re clear, he is not a rotting vegetable. And in case you wanted to check for yourself, I offer this evidence.
See, I told you.
Posted on March 30, 2010. 2 comments
Our little one is fiercely independent (except when it comes to nursing or sleeping, of course). When he has it in his mind that he wants to do something, he will. Even if it is hard or frustrating, he will. He will try and try and try sometimes working and concentrating for a long time to figure something out.
So it goes with feeding.
Sometimes it’s so hard to sit back and let him go. Let him try to figure it out, without stepping in and doing it for him.
It’s hard to watch so much yogurt land on the table, on the floor, on his face and so very little in his belly.
But then, at the end of it all, there’s this look. This expression of complete pride. “I did it myself, mama,” his expression says. And, well, I can’t imagine taking that away from him.
Good job little buddy, you totally ate (a very little bit) of yogurt!
Posted on March 29, 2010. 2 comments
Inspired by Amanda over at Soulemama, I’ve chosen to spend Fridays taking the chance to record a single moment from the everyday around here. One moment that I just don’t want to forget.
My babe, discovering toilet paper and totally getting caught in the act. Love that little guy for making me laugh.
After yesterday’s post, I don’t want to leave you with the impression that things are all doom and gloom around here. They certainly aren’t.
In fact, in the midst of the storm that is child raising, there are lots of good things happening. Lots of making. Some writing. Pattern drafting. Knitting. Lots of things going on behind the scenes.
Soon you’ll be in on it all. Very soon. But for now, how about just a few peeks?
Before I had a little one I thought the reports I heard on the news about people shaking or otherwise harming their baby were crazy. Actually, I thought the adults in those scenarios were. I mean, seriously, how could you think, much less do, something so awful to your gorgeous, precious, helpless little one. Really…
They were crazy, until yesterday.
Yesterday was a tough one. Ewan was up much of the night and he had one episode about 30 minutes long of inconsolable crying. The next day was some of the same, a 45 minute stretch of all.out.crying. Screaming. Back arching.
He is generally such a good natured little guy that this type of crying has been rare. Really rare. Like, I can count how many times this has happened on one hand rare. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so rare, or because I’m just not built for it, but I can’t handle the crying. The crying that doesn’t stop. The crying that I can’t solve.
In the middle of the night we tag team. I take Ewan for a bit, when I find myself getting frustrated or edgy, I hand him off. Aaron takes him and does the same. We swap. We keep each other fresh. But when I’m home alone during the day, there is no one to swap with. No one to help keep me fresh.
Ewan cried. I tried everything. Nursing. Dancing. Sling. Food. Water. Everything. My bag of tricks was exhausted, I was exhausted, and the crying continued.
More than 35 minutes in, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to walk away. I had to put him down. I had to because I knew I was getting to the edge, nearing my limit. I knew I had the capacity, the awful capacity, to harm this little one if I didn’t walk away and clear my head.
So I walked away.
I put him in his bed. I closed the door. I turned off the baby monitor and I walked away. I did some dishes. I knit a few rows. I sipped some water. I could hear his muffled cries, but I didn’t go to him. I couldn’t.
But then after a few minutes, I was feeling refreshed and renewed. I had a few more ideas and I was ready to take it on again. I went back to him.
Eventually, after about 15 minutes more he calmed. It took a brief phone conversation with Aaron and the suggestion of a cool washcloth (why didn’t I think of that?!).
The crying had stopped, the episode had passed, but my guilt had just begun.
How could I walk away when my babe was obviously hurting and needing me?
How could I think, think, about harming him?
How could I?
How could I?
How could I?
I’m still trying to let go of the guilt. Still trying to forgive myself for not having an unending well of patience, for doing what I knew was best for him at that moment. Putting him in a safe place while I got myself back to a space where I could deal.
If I did what was best, why do I still have the nagging feeling like it was wrong? Why does the guilt linger?
Posted on March 24, 2010. 3 comments
A trip to Boston which involved . . .
loads of travel – busses, trains, planes, subways, taxis, and cars.
funny faces and loads of laughs.
a most excellent pizza.
an amazing place to stay.
beautiful walks on beautiful days, both winter and spring.
showing Ewan his first horse.
visiting play parks across Boston.
spotting my favorite color green.
and spending time with family, the reason for the visit.
A good weekend, indeed. Hope yours was as well.
Posted on March 21, 2010. 1 comment
When the day starts with a breakfast of Caramelized Bananas over French Toast, it is hard to imagine that the day can get any better. Especially when that breakfast is had with two of my favorite boys.
But today did, get better that is. I think it is because of . . .
the blue sky.
And a walk to the park.
A ride on the swings.
Some time spent playing in puddles.
And some early spring blossoms.
A grand day, indeed.
Oh, and if you would like to make the bananas and french toast, to start off your own remarkable day, it’s simple. Here’s how:
Caramelized Bananas
Ingredients
2-3 Bananas
Sugar to Sprinkle
1-2 Tbsp Butter
Slice the bananas and sprinkle them, lightly, with granulated sugar. Melt the butter over medium-high heat. Once the butter is melted, and hot, add the bananas in a single layer to the skillet. Let them cook on one side until brown, a handful of minutes. Flip and cook the other side, another handful of minutes.
Put the bananas on top of french toast (use your favorite recipe) like we did. I think they would be equally fantastic on ice cream, over oatmeal, in yogurt. Really, they were so delicious, you could just eat them straight. You know you want to.
Oh … Wait … You’ve been right here. I check my stats, I know. So, I guess the real question is where have I been?
Well, after almost two weeks of having visitors, birthdaying, and traveling, I’m here.
Slowly crawling myself out from under the mounds of laundry.
And the heaps of dishes. Oh, it never seems possible that we, a humble little family of three, can generate so.many.dirty.dishes.
Quietly clearing away the accumulated dust bunnies.
Emptying unidentifiables from the fridge.
Teaching my little man how to stack blocks, and knock them down (his fave).
Running around to doctors appoinments.
Delivering food to moms and new babes.
Making stuff. Because I just can’t stop.
Having random dance parties to bubblegum oldies.
Going for long walks because when it is in the 60’s in March, you must.
Trying to solve the mystery that is our child. It’s tough, there are so many variables.
I’ve been here, living life, but not blogging about it. I will soon.
