This week I've been enjoying a great group text with some mom friends about our latest parenting woes. We all have little ones around the same age and we're all working moms (working moms unite!!!) Thank goodness we have each other to vent to, because most days I can go to work without incident, but on the days when I am angry and sad that I spend my weekdays in an office, I take comfort in knowing I'm not the only one. (My misery loves company - so sue me!) It's hard to watch our sweet children cry when they have to leave their dear babysitters. It's hard to know that someone else is getting their "good" hours, while we are getting their "cranky, it's-almost-bedtime" hours. It's hard, it's hard, it's hard.
As you go through life, you hear people say that parenting is hard, and you believe them - no doubt. But you don't quite know the specifics until you're crying at work about someone else raising your child, or you're wondering if you should wake them up to brush their teeth because how many missed brushings equals a cavity? It's kind of like childbirth. Sure, it's going to hurt - but specifically, HOW will it hurt?
One of the funniest things to realize is that what troubles us now will be a scalp massage compared to the riff-raff that lies ahead in the tween years. Yes, it's been hard to teach Maxwell to not throw his food at me. But I assume it will be harder to teach him that life isn't fair and sometimes the kid who promises to install new pop machines will win the job of Student Body President (true story).
But one of the saddest things to realize is that it takes way too long to understand how much your own parents love you. Maybe that's not the case for everyone, but I think its safe to assume that many new parents have a guilty stomachache every now and then when they think about how many "thank yous" and "i love yous" they owe their parents. My entire Christmas gift to my dad last year was a letter about how thankful I was for his sacrifices and I totally get it now but still, I AM JUST NOW GETTING IT. Luckily my dad is an emotional fella so I don't think he felt all that jipped that his present was just a piece of paper.
If only we knew THEN what we know NOW!
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Friday, September 12, 2014
The potato slicer
I knew we were in trouble the second I heard you cry, and I looked up to see that blood was all over both of your hands. Some weird object that you found in the cupboard had been keeping you occupied, and I was in such a hurry to get dinner made that I didn't think twice about what it was. It was the freaking potato slicer. I swept you up and took you into the bathroom to rinse your hands and find out where the cuts were. I had a feeling it wasn't just one. I mean come on, a potato slicer!!! In my head, I figured there was no way that you hadn't cut each and every one of your fingers.
"Luckily", it was really just your thumb that got it the worst. A few nicks on 3 other fingers were easy to ignore when we had a thumb that just wouldn't stop bleeding. As I held you on my lap and pressed a washcloth to your thumb, I wondered how long I would let you bleed until I panicked and called someone. It's amazing how calm I have been in situations where you've gotten hurt - I guess when you can't look away and let someone else deal with it, it's a little easier to keep a level head.
A few weeks ago, I had bought a package of band-aids "just in case". The Sater girls were with me and wanted me to buy the "girl" band-aids, but I instead chose the "boy" band-aids - you know, basketballs and robots. I got one of the robot band-aids out and tried to wrap it around your poor thumb but I think this made you even more aware of your injury and made you even more sad.
Dinner was hard - you would forget about your injury, use your thumb, and then cry in pain. It's so hard to not be able to reason with you and explain what's happening. A soapy bath was out of the question!
All throughout the night I kept having flashbacks to seeing you sitting on the floor with blood on your hands. I felt so bad. I know this is just the beginning of bumps and bruises and cuts, and they only help you learn what not to touch and what can hurt you, but STILL! I know you'll never remember this. Which is why I'm writing this down now. My sweet little boy - stick with me as I try to find the balance of not being a helicopter mom but still protecting you from injury. It's gonna take me a while to figure this out.
"Luckily", it was really just your thumb that got it the worst. A few nicks on 3 other fingers were easy to ignore when we had a thumb that just wouldn't stop bleeding. As I held you on my lap and pressed a washcloth to your thumb, I wondered how long I would let you bleed until I panicked and called someone. It's amazing how calm I have been in situations where you've gotten hurt - I guess when you can't look away and let someone else deal with it, it's a little easier to keep a level head.
A few weeks ago, I had bought a package of band-aids "just in case". The Sater girls were with me and wanted me to buy the "girl" band-aids, but I instead chose the "boy" band-aids - you know, basketballs and robots. I got one of the robot band-aids out and tried to wrap it around your poor thumb but I think this made you even more aware of your injury and made you even more sad.
Dinner was hard - you would forget about your injury, use your thumb, and then cry in pain. It's so hard to not be able to reason with you and explain what's happening. A soapy bath was out of the question!
All throughout the night I kept having flashbacks to seeing you sitting on the floor with blood on your hands. I felt so bad. I know this is just the beginning of bumps and bruises and cuts, and they only help you learn what not to touch and what can hurt you, but STILL! I know you'll never remember this. Which is why I'm writing this down now. My sweet little boy - stick with me as I try to find the balance of not being a helicopter mom but still protecting you from injury. It's gonna take me a while to figure this out.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Its getting harder
Those days of just keeping Max alive...those days are coming to an end. Now, I am harshly feeling the phase of "real" parenting move in, when we need to help him form his knowledge of right from wrong. How in the WORLD do you do that correctly, while still feeling like you're giving them enough love?! It's getting hard.
Max loves to be outside. Loves to squish bugs (that's my fault), throw rocks (that's not my fault), throw anything, take anything apart (who knew there was a vent that blew hot air from the laundry out the side of our house...and who knew the vent flaps came off??) He likes to walk up and down the street and pick up pine cones and eat them. He loves to go for walks in his stroller (his throne) and he MUST HAVE SNACKS at all times. All in all, his little personality is shining and developing and it really is hilarious!
But then he bites me on the shoulder.
I start to say, "Don't you know I was the one who gave birth to you??" But I stop myself. I don't want to be that mom who is constantly reminding her children of how much they owe her. I can totally see how that happens though.
He bit me on the shoulder as I was carrying him home from down the street where he loves to pick up and throw giant rocks. I'm thinking to myself...okay: Take him in his room and tell him that biting people is wrong and leave him in his crib for 1 minute. But as I'm building myself up for this, his favorite neighborhood dog "Georgie" has finally emerged and is whining for us to meet him at his fence and throw his toy for him. Max and Georgie are practically best friends. Mike fostered this friendship - all the nights I wondered where they were, they were down the street playing with Georgie. It's pretty cute. So anyway, I figure playing with Georgie will get Max back on track (screw the 1 minute crib time-out!!)
We have finally worked up our dinner appetite so I prepare a gourmet meal for him with chicken, beans, corn, a little sweet potato...I mean come on! The kid eats like a king! It's all fun and games at dinner until he throws his food. He winds up his arm....looks right at me...and then chucks a bean as far as it can go. This is our nightly struggle. Is he not hungry? How can he tell the difference between what you can throw (balls) to what you can't throw (everything else)? Our pediatrician has recommended to take his food away and tell him sternly, "NO." I do that, but 5 seconds later he's winding up again. Do I need to be more stern? How do I get his attention without being the wicked witch of the west?
We get through that and have a lovely bath. I'm doing our usual routine of chasing him around his room to lotion him up, and he loves to crawl back behind his chair and play with his nightlight and the electric outlet. Because this is a matter of safety, I feel the need to be more stern here. I tell him that we don't play with that, and I try to pull him out of his den.
But then he bites me on the thumb.
I want to cry and say, Maxwell! Remember me? Your mother? I hobbled around for the last 3 months of my pregnancy because my body was at capacity and then I could barely walk for a month after I gave birth to you and then I fed you from my body for the first year of your life! You should be rubbing my back and writing me love poems! (Ashley, no. Guilt is not an appropriate motivator.)
Instead, I tell him no and sit in the chair with my arms bear-hugging him (a gentle restraint). He screams and cries so he must know this is my attempt to communicate that biting is wrong? Who freaking knows.
But you know what the worst part is...these little "challenges" I'm dealing with now? This will be easy compared to what's ahead! Life only gets weirder and moral situations only get deeper and how am I equipped to know off the top of my head what the answer is?? If only parenting duties were cleanly divided where Mike would handle all moral issues (and math homework) and I could just handle bath/kisses/Halloween costumes. Wouldn't that be a dream! I feel like I am constantly evaluating how I handled each situation: was that good? was that bad? don't do that...next time do this!
The days of just snuggling the baby are over. Now, each day I am a contestant in a very real game of Life.
Max loves to be outside. Loves to squish bugs (that's my fault), throw rocks (that's not my fault), throw anything, take anything apart (who knew there was a vent that blew hot air from the laundry out the side of our house...and who knew the vent flaps came off??) He likes to walk up and down the street and pick up pine cones and eat them. He loves to go for walks in his stroller (his throne) and he MUST HAVE SNACKS at all times. All in all, his little personality is shining and developing and it really is hilarious!
But then he bites me on the shoulder.
I start to say, "Don't you know I was the one who gave birth to you??" But I stop myself. I don't want to be that mom who is constantly reminding her children of how much they owe her. I can totally see how that happens though.
He bit me on the shoulder as I was carrying him home from down the street where he loves to pick up and throw giant rocks. I'm thinking to myself...okay: Take him in his room and tell him that biting people is wrong and leave him in his crib for 1 minute. But as I'm building myself up for this, his favorite neighborhood dog "Georgie" has finally emerged and is whining for us to meet him at his fence and throw his toy for him. Max and Georgie are practically best friends. Mike fostered this friendship - all the nights I wondered where they were, they were down the street playing with Georgie. It's pretty cute. So anyway, I figure playing with Georgie will get Max back on track (screw the 1 minute crib time-out!!)
We have finally worked up our dinner appetite so I prepare a gourmet meal for him with chicken, beans, corn, a little sweet potato...I mean come on! The kid eats like a king! It's all fun and games at dinner until he throws his food. He winds up his arm....looks right at me...and then chucks a bean as far as it can go. This is our nightly struggle. Is he not hungry? How can he tell the difference between what you can throw (balls) to what you can't throw (everything else)? Our pediatrician has recommended to take his food away and tell him sternly, "NO." I do that, but 5 seconds later he's winding up again. Do I need to be more stern? How do I get his attention without being the wicked witch of the west?
We get through that and have a lovely bath. I'm doing our usual routine of chasing him around his room to lotion him up, and he loves to crawl back behind his chair and play with his nightlight and the electric outlet. Because this is a matter of safety, I feel the need to be more stern here. I tell him that we don't play with that, and I try to pull him out of his den.
But then he bites me on the thumb.
I want to cry and say, Maxwell! Remember me? Your mother? I hobbled around for the last 3 months of my pregnancy because my body was at capacity and then I could barely walk for a month after I gave birth to you and then I fed you from my body for the first year of your life! You should be rubbing my back and writing me love poems! (Ashley, no. Guilt is not an appropriate motivator.)
Instead, I tell him no and sit in the chair with my arms bear-hugging him (a gentle restraint). He screams and cries so he must know this is my attempt to communicate that biting is wrong? Who freaking knows.
But you know what the worst part is...these little "challenges" I'm dealing with now? This will be easy compared to what's ahead! Life only gets weirder and moral situations only get deeper and how am I equipped to know off the top of my head what the answer is?? If only parenting duties were cleanly divided where Mike would handle all moral issues (and math homework) and I could just handle bath/kisses/Halloween costumes. Wouldn't that be a dream! I feel like I am constantly evaluating how I handled each situation: was that good? was that bad? don't do that...next time do this!
The days of just snuggling the baby are over. Now, each day I am a contestant in a very real game of Life.
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| Take me to Georgie!!! |
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| Don't ever leave us, summer! |
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| "The Fork" - a dangerous attempt to distract from food-throwing. |
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Will walk for puffs
Max has had a big week - he started walking!!!
For whatever reason, I was convinced he would be walking by his 1st birthday. But, that day passed without him even showing an ounce of interest in moving past his aardvark crawl. I knew he would walk when he was ready, and I didn't give it much thought after that. Except when I saw that the Royal Baby was already walking, I had to do some quick calculations: he is HOW old?? Great job, George.
Last week, Max took a ministep as he was trying to pick up his basketball. I got pretty pumped.
Then, when I picked him up from Nana's on Tuesday, she casually said - oh yeah he's been walking all over today. She is Bosnian and sometimes she says things that don't quite mean what she thinks they do, so I didn't believe her. But then, off he went! He walked from one side of the rug to the other! I couldn't believe it! I was so happy and so proud, I was tearing up and smothering him with kisses!
Luckily, Mike would be home early that night, so I told him we had a surprise for him. As he walked into the kitchen, Max was already standing up, and he just walked right over to Mike. It was so freaking cute - not to mention, impeccable timing! We got a few videos where Mike would entice Max to walk by offering him puffs. If you don't know what puffs are, they are Max's best friend. He would do anything for a puff. When he sees the puffs come out, he literally squeals with delight. The first thing he does in the morning is point to the kitchen and signal for more. More puffs.
I handled this milestone way better than when he started crawling and I was at work. I was just so happy about this new phase and what a big boy it made him look like. I went through my usual thought process: he is his own person. He is going to experience so many milestones and chances are, you won't be there for a lot of them. I mean, will I be hiding in the bushes as he picks up his first date? Probably. But the point is, he is progressing and he is learning new things and it's all good in the hood.
For whatever reason, I was convinced he would be walking by his 1st birthday. But, that day passed without him even showing an ounce of interest in moving past his aardvark crawl. I knew he would walk when he was ready, and I didn't give it much thought after that. Except when I saw that the Royal Baby was already walking, I had to do some quick calculations: he is HOW old?? Great job, George.
Last week, Max took a ministep as he was trying to pick up his basketball. I got pretty pumped.
Then, when I picked him up from Nana's on Tuesday, she casually said - oh yeah he's been walking all over today. She is Bosnian and sometimes she says things that don't quite mean what she thinks they do, so I didn't believe her. But then, off he went! He walked from one side of the rug to the other! I couldn't believe it! I was so happy and so proud, I was tearing up and smothering him with kisses!
Luckily, Mike would be home early that night, so I told him we had a surprise for him. As he walked into the kitchen, Max was already standing up, and he just walked right over to Mike. It was so freaking cute - not to mention, impeccable timing! We got a few videos where Mike would entice Max to walk by offering him puffs. If you don't know what puffs are, they are Max's best friend. He would do anything for a puff. When he sees the puffs come out, he literally squeals with delight. The first thing he does in the morning is point to the kitchen and signal for more. More puffs.
I handled this milestone way better than when he started crawling and I was at work. I was just so happy about this new phase and what a big boy it made him look like. I went through my usual thought process: he is his own person. He is going to experience so many milestones and chances are, you won't be there for a lot of them. I mean, will I be hiding in the bushes as he picks up his first date? Probably. But the point is, he is progressing and he is learning new things and it's all good in the hood.
.PNG) |
| Ole! |
Endorphins are real
Something about the summer weather makes me want to work out. Naturally, I spend the first month debating how I should satisfy this craving. Gym? No...too expensive and what would I do with Max? Crazy BeachBody DVD? No...I want to be outside. Then I always end up at the same conclusion: I want to RUN! By run, I mean walk/jog. Then I debate the logistics. Morning or evening? Does Max come? Where do I go? What do I wear? Do I wash my hair afterwards? Will my current yoga pants let me do this activity comfortably or will I be tugging at them the whole time?
Finally, yesterday night - also known as last night - I had it all figured out. I would look up a beginners running plan and run in the morning before Mike left for work at 6:30. It's already light out, and chances are, the level of my walk/jog would not leave me too sweaty, so I wouldn't have to deviate from my twice/week hair washing schedule.
I popped out of bed, slipped into my clothes that I had carefully laid out, and was turning on my Lady GaGa Pandora station by 5:57. In the words of Borat, GREAT SUCCESS! The morning air was cool and the sun was shining. My route was a perfect 2 mile square, on main roads where the risk of getting abducted are low. With my beginners running plan, I was only running for one minute and then walking for two (hey I'm a beginner...don't judge!) but the side cramp I experienced felt like I was running for a million minutes, walking for 10 seconds.
I had some time to ponder things. How did I find this perfect route? Do they plan the blocks this way? Why do they turn park sprinklers on in the morning, when people are more likely to be out walking/running/etc? Why not turn them on in the middle of the night, which would also keep the juvenile delinquents from drinking 40's in the park late at night.
When I got home, I remembered an article I had read where a woman swore by "oiling" her insides by putting coconut oil in her coffee. I was already done with Step 1 of living healthy, so why not keep it going?!? I brewed a delicious cup of coffee with a teaspoon of coconut oil in the mug. Can you believe it, another GREAT SUCCESS! My morning was off to a fabulous start.
After getting ready, with the help of my friend Maxwell, I made my usual smoothie. But then, I had a moment of genius. I had extra smoothie but not a lot of time to spoon it to Maxer, so I put it in a to-go container, put it in his "lunch bag" that goes with him to Nana's and took out the yobaby yogurt I normally send. Hey now...if I'm already making this smoothie, and I know exactly whats going in it, why not always make a little extra and have that be his "yogurt", instead of buying an additional pack of yogurts for him that probably have too much sugar anyway?? This idea made me really excited. Streamlining!
On the way to work, I'm thinking about the many homeless people I see on my way to work. I have a quick daydream about if I ever sat down for a chat with one, I would probably realize he is just a human. I start thinking....we are all JUST HUMANS. Anything negative that comes after that is just Satan's work. Not to be an evangelist, but isn't it true? We are all just people with a good core, but things happen to give us weird quirks or harden our hearts...but at the base of it all, we are just people with feelings!
At this point, I come to the realization: endorphins are real. All because I burned about 12 calories this morning, I want to start pow-wowing with the homeless.
Why don't I exercise more? Because I want to "sleep"? I spend the last 20 minutes in bed each morning hitting my snooze button and wondering what the weather will be like. If I just got out of bed and moved my body around for a bit, my day is naturally off to a good start. I owe that to myself and to my family. I need increased energy when I get home from work and Max wants to play but I want to pour a vodka drink and lay on the couch.
Who knows how long this inspiration will last, but I want to ride this wave while it's here. Happy holiday weekend, friends!
Finally, yesterday night - also known as last night - I had it all figured out. I would look up a beginners running plan and run in the morning before Mike left for work at 6:30. It's already light out, and chances are, the level of my walk/jog would not leave me too sweaty, so I wouldn't have to deviate from my twice/week hair washing schedule.
I popped out of bed, slipped into my clothes that I had carefully laid out, and was turning on my Lady GaGa Pandora station by 5:57. In the words of Borat, GREAT SUCCESS! The morning air was cool and the sun was shining. My route was a perfect 2 mile square, on main roads where the risk of getting abducted are low. With my beginners running plan, I was only running for one minute and then walking for two (hey I'm a beginner...don't judge!) but the side cramp I experienced felt like I was running for a million minutes, walking for 10 seconds.
I had some time to ponder things. How did I find this perfect route? Do they plan the blocks this way? Why do they turn park sprinklers on in the morning, when people are more likely to be out walking/running/etc? Why not turn them on in the middle of the night, which would also keep the juvenile delinquents from drinking 40's in the park late at night.
When I got home, I remembered an article I had read where a woman swore by "oiling" her insides by putting coconut oil in her coffee. I was already done with Step 1 of living healthy, so why not keep it going?!? I brewed a delicious cup of coffee with a teaspoon of coconut oil in the mug. Can you believe it, another GREAT SUCCESS! My morning was off to a fabulous start.
After getting ready, with the help of my friend Maxwell, I made my usual smoothie. But then, I had a moment of genius. I had extra smoothie but not a lot of time to spoon it to Maxer, so I put it in a to-go container, put it in his "lunch bag" that goes with him to Nana's and took out the yobaby yogurt I normally send. Hey now...if I'm already making this smoothie, and I know exactly whats going in it, why not always make a little extra and have that be his "yogurt", instead of buying an additional pack of yogurts for him that probably have too much sugar anyway?? This idea made me really excited. Streamlining!
On the way to work, I'm thinking about the many homeless people I see on my way to work. I have a quick daydream about if I ever sat down for a chat with one, I would probably realize he is just a human. I start thinking....we are all JUST HUMANS. Anything negative that comes after that is just Satan's work. Not to be an evangelist, but isn't it true? We are all just people with a good core, but things happen to give us weird quirks or harden our hearts...but at the base of it all, we are just people with feelings!
At this point, I come to the realization: endorphins are real. All because I burned about 12 calories this morning, I want to start pow-wowing with the homeless.
Why don't I exercise more? Because I want to "sleep"? I spend the last 20 minutes in bed each morning hitting my snooze button and wondering what the weather will be like. If I just got out of bed and moved my body around for a bit, my day is naturally off to a good start. I owe that to myself and to my family. I need increased energy when I get home from work and Max wants to play but I want to pour a vodka drink and lay on the couch.
Who knows how long this inspiration will last, but I want to ride this wave while it's here. Happy holiday weekend, friends!
Thursday, May 15, 2014
A Mother's Day to remember
For Mother's Day, I got a very special gift: Mastitis. Due to my incessant internet reading, I used to be terrified of mastitis. Every time I had a clogged duct, I would think - call an ambulance!!! Mastitis!!! But, as time went on, I kind of forgot to be afraid of getting it. I had a few busy weeks at work where I was going pretty long periods of time without nursing or pumping, and we were getting closer to Max's 1st birthday, so I thought we were on the path to successful weaning.
During Max's party, I kept having a sore boob. I wasn't sure what it was (after I ruled out cancer) so I just kind of ignored it. After his party, the girls took my sister to get pedicures to celebrate her graduation. We were sitting in the pedicure chair and I was describing my pain to my sister, and then other symptoms started popping up. All of the sudden my body ached and I was shivering so bad the lady had to hold my feet down to paint my toes. By the end of the pedicure, I was positive that it was mastitis. Luckily I was able to get on antibiotics ASAP, thanks to having a medical dream team at my fingertips.
Mike had to work on Sunday, so he took care of Maxwell until the very last minute, and then I cried as he left the house. This was Maxwell's birthday...Mother's Day...and I'm going to spend the entire day being miserable and not being a good mommy to this sweet boy. I felt like I was going to barf most of the day. My body was on fire but I had the chills. My head felt like I had the worst hangover of all time. I rolled around on the floor, trying to play with Max, but was so cold I was hovering under a blanket. I hoped Max would take one of his all-star naps, but he must've known it was his bday, because he wanted to party all day long. He probably slept for 30 minutes. I tried to get him to lay in bed with me and watch Pound Puppies on Netflix. When the exact time of his birth rolled around, all I could do was stare lovingly at him from the couch (and take a screenshot)
Luckily, my mom had a couple hours to spare so she came to the rescue and hung out with Max while I tried to sleep. I laid in bed with 3 blankets and shivered so bad I couldn't even sleep. When she had to leave, it was almost Maxer's bedtime, so I knew if I could just get through bathtime, I would be okay. I don't know if it was the hot water or the bending over, but when I got Max out of the bath, I felt so lightheaded and my vision was going in and out, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I put Max in his crib and went outside into the snowy weather to sit and drink water. I felt like I needed to text my neighbor and say, will you come over in 5 minutes and make sure I'm not passed out in the yard - and if so, will you please take care of Max while I hop in an ambulance?
Mastitis, you're a bitch.
I took Monday off and sent Max to his babysitter so I could just chill. Mike was off too, so I had my own personal Murse. I told our office manager what was going on, and she gave me a good chuckle with this:
I'm happy to report that I feel MUCH better. I am going to make it. But, I have a newfound fear of this nasty infection and a new point of irritation. If breastfeeding is such a natural thing and "breast is best" than WHY are there so many awful things that come along with it? I get it, Eve ate the apple first, but come ON! Isn't the pain of childbirth enough? We're just trying to feed our babies here, can we get a freaking break??? I've added that to my list of "Questions to ask God upon arrival to heaven"
BUT - Max's birthday party was so fun! He was hilarious with his expressions and his curiosity. He got showered with love and tons of cool new toys. Once summer arrives in Denver for good, we are all set with backyard shenanigans. He didn't destroy his cake, but this is probably because he has a great respect for food and wants to enjoy every morsel, so he didn't dare be careless. I actually had to take it away because he probably would have sat there for 3 hours and slowly ate the whole thing.
Some nights when Max is just wearing a diaper (because to him, putting on pajamas after a bath is the ABSOLUTE WORST THING I COULD DO TO HIM), he looks so big. I feel like all of the sudden he is this little boy, and not the little frog baby that we came home from the hospital with. He points, he mimics sounds, he knows people's names - I know this is all the natural progression of his development but sometimes I forget that he won't be a teeny babe forever. His laugh melts my heart - he is our world! Happy birthday to our sweet Maxwell Everett!
During Max's party, I kept having a sore boob. I wasn't sure what it was (after I ruled out cancer) so I just kind of ignored it. After his party, the girls took my sister to get pedicures to celebrate her graduation. We were sitting in the pedicure chair and I was describing my pain to my sister, and then other symptoms started popping up. All of the sudden my body ached and I was shivering so bad the lady had to hold my feet down to paint my toes. By the end of the pedicure, I was positive that it was mastitis. Luckily I was able to get on antibiotics ASAP, thanks to having a medical dream team at my fingertips.
Mike had to work on Sunday, so he took care of Maxwell until the very last minute, and then I cried as he left the house. This was Maxwell's birthday...Mother's Day...and I'm going to spend the entire day being miserable and not being a good mommy to this sweet boy. I felt like I was going to barf most of the day. My body was on fire but I had the chills. My head felt like I had the worst hangover of all time. I rolled around on the floor, trying to play with Max, but was so cold I was hovering under a blanket. I hoped Max would take one of his all-star naps, but he must've known it was his bday, because he wanted to party all day long. He probably slept for 30 minutes. I tried to get him to lay in bed with me and watch Pound Puppies on Netflix. When the exact time of his birth rolled around, all I could do was stare lovingly at him from the couch (and take a screenshot)
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| Shattered phone led to stupid trip to Verizon where the guy told me that I must stay on an old version of the iPhone software. I was too occupied with feeding Max a clementine to understand it. When June 24 rolls around, I will be first in line at Verizon. |
Luckily, my mom had a couple hours to spare so she came to the rescue and hung out with Max while I tried to sleep. I laid in bed with 3 blankets and shivered so bad I couldn't even sleep. When she had to leave, it was almost Maxer's bedtime, so I knew if I could just get through bathtime, I would be okay. I don't know if it was the hot water or the bending over, but when I got Max out of the bath, I felt so lightheaded and my vision was going in and out, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I put Max in his crib and went outside into the snowy weather to sit and drink water. I felt like I needed to text my neighbor and say, will you come over in 5 minutes and make sure I'm not passed out in the yard - and if so, will you please take care of Max while I hop in an ambulance?
Mastitis, you're a bitch.
I took Monday off and sent Max to his babysitter so I could just chill. Mike was off too, so I had my own personal Murse. I told our office manager what was going on, and she gave me a good chuckle with this:
I'm happy to report that I feel MUCH better. I am going to make it. But, I have a newfound fear of this nasty infection and a new point of irritation. If breastfeeding is such a natural thing and "breast is best" than WHY are there so many awful things that come along with it? I get it, Eve ate the apple first, but come ON! Isn't the pain of childbirth enough? We're just trying to feed our babies here, can we get a freaking break??? I've added that to my list of "Questions to ask God upon arrival to heaven"
BUT - Max's birthday party was so fun! He was hilarious with his expressions and his curiosity. He got showered with love and tons of cool new toys. Once summer arrives in Denver for good, we are all set with backyard shenanigans. He didn't destroy his cake, but this is probably because he has a great respect for food and wants to enjoy every morsel, so he didn't dare be careless. I actually had to take it away because he probably would have sat there for 3 hours and slowly ate the whole thing.
Some nights when Max is just wearing a diaper (because to him, putting on pajamas after a bath is the ABSOLUTE WORST THING I COULD DO TO HIM), he looks so big. I feel like all of the sudden he is this little boy, and not the little frog baby that we came home from the hospital with. He points, he mimics sounds, he knows people's names - I know this is all the natural progression of his development but sometimes I forget that he won't be a teeny babe forever. His laugh melts my heart - he is our world! Happy birthday to our sweet Maxwell Everett!
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Time to experience summer
Max is a busy, busy, busy little bee. I'm worried that his first phrase will be: "On your bottom!" Since that is the phrase I say to him about 90 times during his bath. He is up, down, here, there - what a curious little cat. So this morning, you can imagine my surprise when he laid his head on me while we watched my smoothie blend. I tried not to move so I wouldn't disturb this precious moment. I think he realized how nice it was to snuggle into my neck, and he lingered for much longer than I ever anticipated. I started to rub his back a little, and he stayed snuggling into me. It was like when he was a teeny baby and he spent the majority of the day curled up on me. Back in the days before he knew what movement his little body would eventually be capable of.
We are coming up on his first birthday, but I don't feel any sadness about how quickly the year passed. (But DAMN GINA, it sure did go fast!) I don't wish for him to be a baby forever, because when I think about him as an infant, I think of being scared and being tired. I think of having a body in pain, and wanting to do so much but not being able to do a thing. I do miss the sweaty naps we took on our couch, but I must say that getting past the infant stage is quite a relief.
As summer is starting to make its way into our neighborhood, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time...and I'm realizing it's because last year around this time, I was in full-on hibernation, quickly followed by a period of time where we had no idea what season it was because we were just trying to survive each day. If we left the house, I wasn't dreamily noticing the green, lush trees and the blooming tulips. I was thinking...how long until he cries? How long until he's hungry? What am I doing leaving the house...why am I so hot...why did I allow myself to put on denim...I mean, you get the point. My postpartum days were far from glorious.
This year, I get to experience summer in our neighborhood with a curious little boy. I get to show him how to blow dandelions. I get to put his feet in our sprinklers and show him the squirrels playing on our fence. How cool is it to watch a little human experience such simple things for the first time??
So this weekend, we'll celebrate our Baby Max and the year we've had. What an incredible blessing to watch a little boy's mind drink up the world around him. What a feeling it is to shower him with love and know that he feels that warmth. In the words of Miley Cyrus, "It's pretty cool."
We are coming up on his first birthday, but I don't feel any sadness about how quickly the year passed. (But DAMN GINA, it sure did go fast!) I don't wish for him to be a baby forever, because when I think about him as an infant, I think of being scared and being tired. I think of having a body in pain, and wanting to do so much but not being able to do a thing. I do miss the sweaty naps we took on our couch, but I must say that getting past the infant stage is quite a relief.
As summer is starting to make its way into our neighborhood, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time...and I'm realizing it's because last year around this time, I was in full-on hibernation, quickly followed by a period of time where we had no idea what season it was because we were just trying to survive each day. If we left the house, I wasn't dreamily noticing the green, lush trees and the blooming tulips. I was thinking...how long until he cries? How long until he's hungry? What am I doing leaving the house...why am I so hot...why did I allow myself to put on denim...I mean, you get the point. My postpartum days were far from glorious.
This year, I get to experience summer in our neighborhood with a curious little boy. I get to show him how to blow dandelions. I get to put his feet in our sprinklers and show him the squirrels playing on our fence. How cool is it to watch a little human experience such simple things for the first time??
So this weekend, we'll celebrate our Baby Max and the year we've had. What an incredible blessing to watch a little boy's mind drink up the world around him. What a feeling it is to shower him with love and know that he feels that warmth. In the words of Miley Cyrus, "It's pretty cool."
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