Great book title

Every morning I walk by the Pennsylvania Bible Society on my way to work. In their window, they have a display with a book there that has what strikes me as one of the greatest religious book titles ever. Sounds like some kind of profound singles add almost: Shepherd Seeks Meaning of Life.

Emma stands!

So, quick update on the motor skills progress of our little munchkin...

True story: One day not long after Christmas, I was in Emma's room putting away laundry. She was playing in her crib, and I had my back to her, when all of a sudden I hear this laugh that can only be described as pure glee. I turn and look, and surprise! There she is, standing for the very first time on her own, looking at me over the rails of her crib, holding onto the top rail for dear life and grinning ear to ear! She was so proud and excited! And me too! I swooped over to her and smothered her with kisses, both of us laughing. My genius baby! I know she's just little still, but I am so proud of her and I tell her that often. I hope she knows somehow. I had an interesting discussion with a friend about how our parents influenced us as children and the specific things they did that translate to who we are now. One of the things I know my parents did that made me who I am is their constant support. No matter what I did or what directions my interests wandered in (and they were legion), they always showed me they were proud of me (or told me why they weren't so I could fix it). I want Emma to have that same assurance and support - that strong base that lets her venture out into the world bravely and with a smile and the knowledge that wherever she goes, she will have me and Glen. Saw a neat sign the other day for a baby's room that I think I'll copy for her room: Home is where you begin. I like that.

So, after standing... Now she is able to stand and balance herself with a table or with one of our hands, letting her own hands go one at a time - right, switch, left, switch, right - look ma! No hands! (Plop.) She's also starting to be able to pull herself up using the coffee table or push up using a knee or low box. AND she can walk hanging onto one finger on each hand. Glen and I watch her every day together and cheer with her, and she smiles like crazy for us. All these moments, still, sleep or no sleep, are the greatest in the world. Our family. In the immortal words of her bird toy: Yippee!

Quick bits - this too shall pass?

So, what I have come to realize is that I keep trying to write novels in here. (OK, not so surprising to anyone following along maybe...) Anyway, I wait and wait to write when I have plenty of time, and by then there is so much saved up to say that it can't possibly be done at one sitting. Resolving here to try and throw things in when they come, including bits from the past that haven't made it in yet. Might result in some flashbacks and things out of time, but how is that different from the way I feel these days anyway?

About a week now without sleep, meaning not more than three hours at a stretch. It's all sortof been a snowball. First, she didn't poop all last weekend. We're working on solids, and since she doesn't like or know lots of things yet, a "balanced" diet is not quite reality. So, days with too much poop, days with no poop. Three days without, and Tuesday resulted in literally an explosion of the most poop my au pair had ever seen. She said it was amazing, and they spent half a day cleaning both of them up. Of course, Emma felt much better afterwards! But, her nap went astray that afternoon, leading to a somewhat off night. Wednesday, workers came to install a humidifier, banging, clanging, again no nap, little rougher night. Thursday, bug guy came to kill the little creatures in our pasta cabinet, cleaning woman came, no nap, no sleepy... A pattern is emerging? Friday I came home, after a glorious evening off having my hair cut and colored and pampered in general, to find Glen sick and Emma with a low fever and cranky. Sleep? Sleep? Found myself at two in the morning with Emma in the bed and Glen in the bathroom, sounding like he was going to die and claiming he now knows what childbirth feels like. While I doubt anything feels quite like childbirth, suffice it to say he clearly felt pretty bad. Saturday, although he felt better, somehow got even worse, with Jesse up and wandering, Emma refusing to come unattached, even in bed with me. 2, 3, 4, in the morning, me and Emma both crying in bed as I struggle with trying to coax her into her own crib, bassinett, anywhere but hanging from me... I begin to wonder if it's possible to wean her, if it's right, can anything that causes this much distress be right? Despairing that she will ever be weaned, sad that she will be weaned - is it me? Can I really commit to this? Am I wimp if I don't? Am I a bad mom if I do? All I want is to see her smile every morning... Last night, Sunday night, just topped everything. Finally had a bit of peace nursing her to sleep and watching the snow fall through the dark. So quiet and beautiful. I felt good and hopeful that things would be better, or that at least I would be better able to handle everything. For once in a long time, felt God's love wrapping around us and it all felt so right again. Shattered spectacularly when she would not not not be put in her crib for the hundredth time and I finally fled, leaving her wailing... Glen tried to help, he really did. He went up and comforted her, tried giving her a bottle, but of course all she wants is me so after awhile he left her too. Sometimes I think it's easier for Glen at times like this - he seems to take for granted that there's nothing he can do (at least at night), and this relieves him of the burden of trying, so left to struggle with when to go to her, when to stay away, feelings of despair that this will ever get better, feelings of failure when I can't take it and give in to her demands for the breast, questioning whether this is the right thing to do, aware that without weaning we will never get that time away... And will I ever get pregnant again with all this stress and her still at my breast? I finally laid a bed for us on her floor again, knowing I simply couldn't abandon her alone, I just couldn't, hoping that at least my being there will reassure her that she is loved, even if she's not nursing. Watched her throw herself around in her tantrum and tried to cuddle and comfort without giving in to her demand. Just when I thought I couldn't do it another second, lo and behold - sleep. She literally passed out from one second to the next. Amazed, I hardly dared breathe Of course, nothing can be that easy. She fell asleep on her stomach, something she has never EVER done before. Since she's still sniffly from her cold, and even more so after more than an hour of crying, and after giving her some motrin, I was suddenly plunged into the sleep-deprived bleary fear that she would suffocate. Still amazingly, I did get her into her crib, where she again refused to stay on her back. Where did this come from? Glen was finally able to get her rolled at least onto her side, and I fell into fitful and terrified sleep. In the end, she slept through the night, but I got up three times to check on her. Please, Lord, please...

Standing up and letting go

Well, as usual when a month goes by, so much has happened! Where to begin? Christmas was a blast, with my parents here to help out and watch her grow. The week they arrived she really started to try and crawl. So amazing and so frustrating to watch her work at it! She lays on her belly, looking at us, reaching out for us, and moving... backwards! Somehow she just can't quite figure out how to move forward, and each push with her hands sends her the wrong way. Poor thing, she's trying so hard! She yells LOUD with each attempt and I just know any day now she'll figure it out. Dad (Grandpa) especially seemed to really enjoy trying to teach her. In fact, he's completely head over heels over the moon in love with this little girl! Still doesn't change a diaper, but he's quick to pick her up or (ouch) kneel on the floor when she needs someone. Mom says he's also been seriously inspecting every toy and gift destined for her little hands too, sometimes even taking them apart just to see if SHE can. Admittedly, it was also nice having him around to build the radio flyer wagon that Glen's parents sent her too... Saved us the frustration, assured him that it was built safely, and allowed him to be part of their gift. Then he got to push her around in it. Her first "laps", and boy did she love them! She squealed and waved her little arms and rocked back and forth every time he stopped. Faster, Granpda, faster was the clear message! More, more! Lord, she's the greatest!

The week after they left was alittle rougher. Our au pair came down with some nasty throat thing, complete with 103 degree fever, so I spent the week after New Year's off work and finding things to do to keep us out of the house. We spent lots of time at the mall... We did spend one day at Ikea, which Emma loved. It was like Disneyworld. She sat in her stroller and looked and looked and smiled at everything. What agreat place for her - piles of brightly colored objects, people, twists and turns, and of course a new toy. Although I have to admit to some frazzle staying with her at home for a whole week (OK, maybe alot by the end of the week), still, it's so different getting to spend days at a time with her instead of snatches of evenings and weekends. Did make me stop and think though. When I'm working all the time, it's easy to think I might want to stop working and stay home with her, or with the next one. But the truth is, after two weeks at home, I am tired and looking for ways to be myself and not mommy for awhile. Even just looing for excuses to wear nice clothes. Is that wrong? So, long hard realization that maybe I shouldn't stay home... But then what? Maybe find something part-time, something that at least gets me away for a bit. Not worrying about it, just letting thoughts settle and waiting to see what comes...