Awake

I woke up this morning after a full night sleep, with my daughter and husband sleeping peacefully next to me. We all got up together and began the day with excitement for the day, for the holidays.

I know there are many who did not sleep last night, because the sorrow in their life is too much to find peace. And for those who by the grace of God were able to sleep last night and were able to remove themselves from reality for just a few hours, for them perhaps the morning is even more difficult because they awake with a new sense of reality and sadness as the shock of their loss wears off.

Meanwhile the rest of us start to move on with our lives again and if we are blessed to live without sorrow, we tend to forget the sorrow of others. I believe that is partly a necessary survival mechanism.

But though we forget about sadness, we should never forget to be grateful.

I am so grateful for the nights when I can fall asleep with my family in a warm and precious and safe cocoon. For being able to wake with a light and joyful heart.

finding myself again

I know that every new parent must at some point address the pendulum swing of "self" that occurs when the baby arrives. Who is the new "me"? There are new priorities, new challenges, new lessons. And of course, there's the child! Which doesn't leave room for much else.

For me, the soul searching started during the first couple of weeks. Frankly, I was a bit of a mess emotionally and truly thought that the old me was gone forever. I would look at old photos from the honeymoon and start sobbing uncontrollably. Colin was there for me; he was my rock (as much as he could be).

He had a lot of the same fears. I remember him saying to me one night when we tried to sit down for dinner together at the table only to be interrupted by cries from the floor where we had lay down our babe seconds prior, "we're not going to have normal meals together anymore like we used to, are we?"

"Yes, we will," I said. But even I didn't know for sure.

Things got easier though. Baby started sleeping on her own. Now I know: of course we will have normal meals together! And it will be even better when she can join us for dinner.

The pendulum started swinging the other way. Things were good, my confidence was growing.

And then I went back to work. Swoosh.

After the first week, I wondered, "How on earth do people do this? Who is this new me? Will I ever cook a meal again? Is this worth it?" So many questions. So much doubt.

In retrospect, it's funny how much of my anxiety revolved around cooking and the family meal. I think I underestimated how much those two things factor in to my sense of self.

The pendulum has been tick-tocking back and forth ever since. Just as soon as I get a little comfortable.... Swoosh! I find myself asking the same questions, though shaded slightly more with experience each time: "Who am I these days? What do I really want in life? Is it ok that all I want to do is spend time with my family? What about my career? Is that really what I want to be doing? Is it what I should be doing?"

Lately, the pendulum has been stuck in that place. The place of self-doubt. The in-between place. And then, yesterday, I got sick. I haven't really been sick since Amelia was born, which is kind of crazy considering the number of bugs I've been exposed to through daycare.

But here it was: I was achy all over. I had chills. I had a fever. My skin hurt. I told Colin I needed to take a nap. I slept for 4 hours. 4 hours!! That's more straight sleep than I've had in months. I woke up, ate a little, lay in bed, ate some ice cream and then went back to bed. 

That was last night. This morning, I woke up a new person. Swoosh! I felt inspired, productive, playful. Amelia and I had some quiet time together while Col slept in. And then, we went into the kitchen and I started cooking. Amelia banged on the pots and pans in the corner while I prepped. I cooked dinner for tonight. I made a stew for Amelia's lunch. I made a quiche, crust and all!

At one point, Col walked into the kitchen and said, "I know that if you could do this all day, every weekend, you'd be really happy."

I replied, "yes, I'm really happy right now." This is what I want to be doing. He knows me better than I know myself. This much is for sure: I found a little piece of myself in the kitchen today and it feels good.

In other baby news:
Amelia turned 9 months last week
She is crawling
She is eating lots of different foods (though she may be allergic to eggs, which is very sad and means she can't try my amazing aforementioned quiche)
Her favorite foods are: roasted sweet potato, quinoa with curry & zucchini, peas with basil, pears, peaches, fresh date puree, eggs with scallions (until she broke out in hives)
She does not love: polenta, baby cereal
Still no teeth, but lots of energy and excitement
She loves music, she danced with me to Etta James today
She still sleeps in bed with us for the second half of the night
She still nurses at least twice a night and I'm fine with that

The best kind of parenting

I slept in this morning 2 hours past normal waking time (till 8 a.m., people!). Col took Amelia for the first shift. (It's becoming a lovely Sunday morning routine.) I woke up refreshed and feeling mentally clean. Well, as clean as a groggy mind can feel at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. This statement of freshness did not prevent me from uttering a parenting criticism with the first morning breath.

"You fed her peas for breakfast?!"

"I fed her whatever that green stuff was in the fridge."

"It was peas. Why didn't you feed her fruit or oatmeal or something more breakfast-y?"

"It was the only thing in there." (Note to self: if I really do want to control everything that passes through baby's lips, must. leave. in. plain. sight. in. fridge.)

"Well, did she eat it?"

"Yup, all of it," he said proudly.

"Well, I guess it's ok to give her something savory for breakfast. We eat savory breakfasts sometimes right?" In retrospect I don't know why I cared so much. It's so silly. Why am I such a control freak when it comes to parenting? Is it because I'm the mom? Are all moms like that? Or just first-time moms? Or is it just me? 

Thankfully, I have a husband with pretty thick skin and a sense of humor. He didn't seem to mind my snarkiness.

Which leads me to my next awesome announcement of the morning: after that exchange, I put A down for a nap and went running (in my 5-yr-old running shoes that have been worn a total of maybe 15 times). It felt good. I felt strong. 

I used my run (as I always used to do) for the quiet introspection I've been looking for. It worked. It works every time. I thought about my goals and about my life and about my loves (Col and Meals) and family. I let lots of things go. That felt really good. I focused on breathing. I killed those hills. All of them. I added on an extra loop. I felt that good.

Towards the end of my run, I passed a little scene that humbled me a bit. It was a couple of young women (in their early 20s I'd say) getting in a car with a young child. One of the women looked like she had had way too much fun last night. Her voice was all raspy from too much smoking and partying. 

She yelled out to the boy, laughing, "Hey Ry, do you need some Dunkin' Donuts right now? Cause I definitely need some Dunkin' Donuts right now." He laughed back. I bet he was soooo excited to go to Dunkin' Donuts. And in that moment, I realized that this boy was happy. Even though he was being taken care of by women (mom? sisters? sitters?) who were probably not leading the best life examples, he seemed loved (from the 15 second exchange I witnessed) and he was laughing. Isn't that all that matters?

I thought to myself, "love and laughter—those are the two most important parenting skills." The love part I've got down. The laughter, which Colin always has in spades, I need to work on. Constantly. If only I didn't get so caught up with peas and oatmeal.

As the two women peeled away towards Dunkin' Donuts with the boy in the back-seat, they each flung their arms out the open windows in contentment, lit cigarettes in hand. That bummed me out and snapped me out of my rose-colored view on life.

Ok, so maybe the "love and laughter" thing is a little too simplistic. But minus the cigs and feeding second-hand smoke to a tyke, it was a sweet interaction that taught me a lesson.

And now I need to go apologize to my hubby and tell him I love him. He got Meals to eat her peas at 6 in the morning. How great is that?

multi-tasking is not conducive to the creative process. Or is it?

It's a Friday morning and I'm at home. Not at work, not traveling. Just home. And our little babe is asleep in her crib for a loooonng nap. Kitty is asleep cuddled up next to me. I can't remember the last time I had two minutes to rub together for such a quiet, unadulterated moment. And of course, the minute I realize, "I have MEEE time" I think of a million ways to fill it. So I clean the living room, delete old files off my computer, organize some photos, pay some bills and then I remember that I've been wanting to write more, so I open up my computer AGAIN.

But then I remember I had wanted to check my work email (why, oh why do I do that on my days off?). So I got distracted by that for a while. Then, only then, did I shut everything else down and turn towards my writing.

I remember that when I used to write in my journal, I would spend some time thinking about my day and what I wanted to remember from it—or learn from it. William Wordsworth described this moment as he lay on the couch as a "vacant or pensive mood" in which to be inspired. And so it was, I would seize upon a particular word or image, and then I would just let it flow. That used to be easy for me.

But back then, I was never very good at doing laundry or cleaning house.

Now, when I have one hand holding baby, another feeding the cats, another on my phone checking messages, another hand waving to Col as he gets home from work (and of course that dang work e-mail), and still another hand stirring dinner on the stove and stacking baby bottles in the dishwasher, the concept of quiet introspection seems comical.

And still, the drive to write and to be thoughtful is there.

I will never not want to write. So, maybe for now, when I start to hear whimpers from the nursery and my dang phone is dinging again and the washing machine is buzzing. For now, perhaps my writing needs to be short and sweet and inspired by the very chaos life has become. Perhaps a structured haiku poem to harness that chaos a bit? Yes, a haiku! Hang on, what are the rules for haiku again?

Hang on, let me Google it. Hang on...

Oh yes, haiku is 17 syllables, 3 lines in 5-7-5 pattern. Often about nature. Okay here's my Friday morning meeee time haiku (inspired by one of the loves of my life cozy next to me):

Cat, I love you, purr
Despite bites, blood, ER, pills
I still love you, Cat.

homemade baby food for our little gourmande

We were a little slow on the uptake starting Meals on solid foods. She was almost 7 months by the time we got around to it, so we sort of skipped right over the baby cereal and right on to the real stuff. So far, our little baby (and this makes her mama so proud) loves any kind of healthy, delicious food we've thrown her way. Favorites so far include:

• Fruit compote with peaches, raspberries and banana
• Baked sweet potato and pears
• Roasted carrots and broccoli with cumin
• Sweet pea puree with fresh basil

Mmm, those sweet peas were so good I wanted to eat them myself! I have found that the trick is in the cooking. Roasting the carrots and broccoli brings out their amazing flavor. The sweet potato gets all caramelized when you bake it just a little bit longer. The peas (I use frozen) are only steamed long enough to turn bright green. They they're rinsed in cold water to stop the cooking. We've been having so much fun trying new combos and seeing her reaction. It's making me excited to cook again! And maybe, just maybe, I'll finally hit up the farmers' market this weekend.