Trust

Recently I hired a stranger to watch my son. She was from a cool website that we had to pay, and she sounded great (the site calls references and interviews them and records the interview so that you can hear them). We were traveling to visit some friends, and wanted to go out, mostly after he'd gone to bed, so we hired this sitter to come over to our friends' house. It was kind of amazing to reflect on all the stranger's children I've watched, started watching when I was a very young teenager. Z and I thought hard about it and did our due diligence and then...

I was trusting the stranger with my only child.

My friends were trusting me to find someone who was safe to leave in their house.

Simon trusts all of the above... completely, about everything.

It all worked out. Simon really enjoyed his time with the sitter. (She came a couple of times and he got excited to see her each time.) We're home again, and he is learning (still/even more) to trust himself and his strong body. He can climb up the stairs to our third floor apartment. He can climb all over the place at the park. I like to think that he's making our trust of him and his baby judgement, his baby body part of himself.

These days he trusts us to read a book, turn on music, play a game, lift him up, put him down, give him food, hugs, kisses when he asks us to (through an amalgam of sign language, sounds, "words" and enthusiastic empathy). He trusts that when we do something he doesn't like, we'll eventually stop and we'll usually warn him first. It feels really good.

I'm constantly realizing how much faith I have in the world. I don't think I've got more than before (less, actually, because the stakes feel higher) but I'm more aware... when Simon was playing on a hanging bridge at the playground I didn't worry (after testing it) that it would fall. When he approaches another child, I imagine they probably won't damage one another (although some slight damage might occur). I don't worry he'll get disease by chewing wood chips, or tasting the handrail. I'm rewarded... Simon catches himself when he falls, mostly. He's had good luck playing with other people's dogs. It's been a safe, healthy fun year.

I worried that, well, that I would worry a lot more as a parent. In fact I resent it when people occasionally assume or imply that I make the choices I make out of fear, or worry or concern. I wondered why it mattered, but I guess I'm kind of happy to discover how much faith I've got in the world I'm raising my son within.

another beginning...

This year has been full of Zak and I saying to one another "Here we go... it all changes now... look out!"

Tonight was another of those moments. 

We have been signing to Simon since he was 3 months old or so. Starting with "Milk"and "diaper". Zak liked to use big strings of signs together and we often wondered what, if anything, he might pick up. (Experts recommend families starting with one and adding them slowly. This appears to be about helping the adults to be consistent and learn the signs. We had no problems with signing consistently, and knew quite a few signs already from my work with a child whose hearing was impaired, so we just had at it.

Simon first signed "milk"while he was nursing (which is when I would sign it to him). For a long while, he wouldn't sign "milk" when he wanted it, but if I guessed and signed it to him, when he was hungry he would smile, grab my signing hand and stuff it in his mouth. So, basically, he improvised his own sign for "HELL YES!" After awhile, he got tired of that, and has been "signing" milk, by tugging at my shirt and unsnapping my bra for the last few months. 

He learned "water"and signed it by opening and shutting his hand in front of his mouth, often while making a gurgly sound. We were ecstatic. Occasionally he has signed "Papa"and "Mama", although he can  now say those words. Very soon, the sign for water also meant bird, and full diaper. (We can show you the three signs and you can see how his sign is very close to water, bird and dirty.) then he generalized  from "bird"to "bird or dog". So, occasionally throughout the day, he'll sign this sign and we'll look around for context clues to tell us if he needs his diaper changed, is thirsty, or is thinking about a bird or a dog. 

He's really excited about dogs. He's been seeing them around our neighborhood and is big enough to walk over to them and pet them if the owner is cool with it. He always signs "bird" and then we sign "dog" back. For the most part, we've used ASL signs, but I have occasionally wished we'd used the "baby sign" for dog. ASL is to snap your fingers and slap your leg as if calling a dog, and baby sign is to stick out your tongue and pant. Since it'll be awhile before Simon can snap, I had been thinking this was a mistake.

Tonight we went out to dinner and saw a dog on the way home. After it was gone, Simon kept trying to look over my shoulder (I was carrying him on my front facing me.) to see the dog. (Yesterday a dog walked behind us for a few blocks and this method helped him to see it the whole way.) He frantically signed "bird/dog". Zak signed "dog"to him every time and said "dog"too. "duh" is a common sound for Simon to make and a big part of his daily, conversational babble so it was no surprise when he responded to Zak with "duh"and his "bird/dog"sign. Zak emphasized "Daw-GUH" a few times. There was no dog present and the two just kept signing and talking to each other

Simon: Dah! ("bird/dog")

Zak: Daw-GUG ("Dog")

over and over 100 times until... Simon said "Dog-guh". We all got excited. We walked down the street all chanting "Daw-guh" sign language forgotten. I hoped that we'd run into another dog, and we did. Our neighbors had their two puppies out playing and they ran over to Simon and he said to them "Dog-uh". And that was it. The beginning of a child who can definitely think with others about things that are not present, the beginning of a hunger for language, an enthusiasm for naming and describing. Language is hugely important to Zak and me and it was so exciting to walk through the dark  talking together with our little one.

The latest in a long line

 Simon is not the first child to "help" his parents unload the dish washer.










Today he curiously surveyed the dishwasher and then removed this pot.
















He hollered and laughed.
















He likes participating in daily life. After months of a helpless infant who lived only according to his needs, only on his own schedule, it's really marvelous to see him finding his way into our rhythm.







He seems to like it too.

Dear Simon, This month has been such an exciting one, really. You have blossomed into an eater and a mover. I finally feel really like a mother, instead of a fraud, or like I'm playing house, or... I'm not sure how I felt before. The other day, though, when you started crying when I left you with JB and I knew it was because I'm your mama and you didn't want me to go? THEN I felt like your mama in a whole new way. Here are some pictures of your moving, visiting your buddies Dalton and Cayden, and eating.

Dear Simon at 5 months

Dear Simon at 5 months,

I meant to do this earlier. I sat there, on November 13th, while you slept on your little cosleeper in the middle of our big bed, staring at the screen, thinking about a future version of yourself reading the blog I was about to write. (No pressure, though!) An electronic record seemed too cheap, I couldn't imagine that I could type anything that would approximate how I was feeling about you and about your father, that could describe how fascinating I found your every sigh and hiccup. I gave up after about 3 sentences (when you awoke). This blog has always been about me and a way for me to think about things and share them with the people I love, so it seems a little strange to record your life here. I couldn't begin, on November 13th, or on December, or January 13th, to talk intelligently about how it felt to become a mother, to watch Z become a father, to watch as you showed us little glimpses of who you are.

This month, as you nap away. I feel totally ready. You are this incredible person, and you now have anecdotes. (A newborn's anecdotes, let's face it, are pretty dull.) I know more about who you are. You are intensely interested in everything around you, especially living things. (Luckily, people find you intensely interesting too. I have to add an extra 10 minutes to my grocery store trips to account for strangers who want to talk to you and admire you.)

You are becoming more physically capable every day. You can roll over from front to back and back to front, and you can finally hold onto your feet these days (though you can't get them to your mouth). You can wiggle and lurch your way in a circle, and get two or three feet from where we put you (although you don't have a lot of directional control at this point). Every day your father or I sees the potential for crawling. You are socially aware; helping us to change your clothes and watching us when we talk to you. You spend time on your own with your toys on the floor, and enjoy "helping" me cook from the comfort of your ergo. You recently became interested in reading board books, and you watch your father and I when we sign to you. (Who am I kidding? You are interested in EVERYTHING.

Here is the story I really want to tell that sums up your life right now:

Last Saturday, I made a fart noise at you and you laughed. I was so delighted. (The first time I heard you really laugh (you frequently chuckle one or two syllables at a time) I tickled your belly with my nose (this still works)about a month ago. But on Saturday, I made a noise (and a face) and you cracked up! I called your papa in to see. He believes fart noises are universally funny, and was unsurprised (bullshit) but I wondered what about this sound was funny for you. The next day, it no longer worked. (You smiled for the sound, but didn't laugh.) by the end of the day, you would spit and I would reflexively make a fart noise for you. I soon realized that I had accidentally reinforced spitting and brought this up with Z. I thought I should stop, but he said "What's the harm, really?" compared to the powerful experience of you being able to order up a fart noise when ever you want one. (COMMUNICATION!)

Then, your nanny, JB was here on Monday and saw you spit this way. He apologized to Z and took responsibility. He explained that when you are sad, he beatboxes for you! So, you were laughing at me (perhaps) because I don't usually beatbox, JB does! And you were ordering up more! So, now YOU have basically trained your caregivers to beatbox to you. It clearly gives you joy to make this spitting sound (which started as aspirated drool on Sunday, and is already a vibrating lip "motor boat" action) and get the people you love to beatbox for you. (I'm not Rahzel, or anything, but I do my best.)

So, that's where we are 5 months into this adventure, my little darling.

Until next month!
-Mama

Things I love about not being pregnant

This list has been running through my head for awhile now. I loved being pregnant, and not being pregnant has opened me up to enjoying things I never thought much about before.

Taking the stairs not the escalator

rediscovering the waist belt on my backpack

walking between tables in a crowded restaurant

tackling small children/picking them up/general rough-housing

eating spicy food and then lying down right away without heartburn. In fact, tomorrow I think I'll eat some spicy food WHILE lying down.

standing on a crowded train without hating every able-bodied looking person sitting in one of those seats that are supposedly reserved for the disabled, aged... and pregnant.

Smelling fumes/Standing near a microwave/feeling angry without a feeling of dread that I'm ruining my offspring

Demim

Hugging people without having to reach over myself to get at them

Sleeping/Reading on my stomach

Not talking to strangers about my condition (although, admittedly, I missed this for the first few weeks)

Tying my shoes with nary a care in the world (although my pregnant shoe-tying skills are very helpful when I'm carrying Simon in the Moby)

Not having to ask Zak for help with really silly things

Urdva Danurasana (Although with my rotator cuff issues, that was a short-lived love affair... but that's another post entirely.)

Riding my bicycle FAST and without being a spectacle.

Mama said knock you out

I don't know why I stopped blogging, and I'm not sure why I might start again...
I intend to only spend a moment on this topic, but a couple of things stand out to me as I read this blog.
1. I've waited so long to change the banner pic at the top that it's relevant again.
2. I "promised" to reflect on being pregnant, and never did.

I think that when one is pregnant (like when one is an adolescent or when one is in love) one's life becomes a big cliche. It's a cliche because certain things are universal, and so they sound cliche when we talk about them. So, it was weird to write about being pregnant in the same way that it was weird to write about how important my thoughts and feelings were when I was 16. Also, I had a really pleasant pregnancy. Yes, I had hormonal ups and downs, yes, I had heartburn, but really, I had a great time. It can be hard to talk about things that are going well,especially if you have reason to be supersticious and fear "jinxing it". So, I didn't write much about how awesome it was to think about a new person inside my body, how connected to Zak I felt as we moved into this new stage blah de blah de blah. Now that my son has arrived and he is his own person, we are still firmly in the land of cliche ("Every day is an adventure." "He's so tiny and perfect." "I see a whole new side of my husband when I watch him with the baby." etc. etc. etc. BUT it is SO interesting to me that I'll risk it.

Finally, I've just gotten back into the habit of writing and reflecting on a more regular basis in part because I bought Nikki Mclure's First 1000 Days
. (she's a fantastic artist from the old PNW.) I really wanted to write to S about what his infancy is like, and what our transition to parenthood has been like, but I had no time in those first weeks to sit down and think, and it was a little overwhelming to decide which completely new and different details to include and which to leave out. I couldn't prioritize. This journal (which is beautiful in every way) is small, and has two pages for each month. There are other pages later in the book to record things like "songs we sing" or "how you express yourself, words you use" etc. but basically, I have to write succinctly and at the end of the month I have a few small paragraphs that more or less tell the story of that four weeks. This is a relief and an excellent reminder to myself. (I totally recommend Mclure's book as a new baby gift to any family who likes to write or remember. I am loving it.)

Resolution Shmesolution
I was inspired by my friend Jessie a few years ago to choose an intention for the whole year. Last year my intention was "follow through". This is kind of funny, since I didn't blog very much, but hey, I didn't say I'd follow through on my blog, just... in general. Today I spent an hour filing and recycling papers from my "crapalanche" on my desk. This is one kind of the follow-through I was talking about. I do have a few projects I could have finished from this year, but more or less I think I lived up to this intention. I definitely thought a lot about what I was taking on and whether I could finish it up. The sheer effort of doing things while pregnant and meant I had to set more limits than usual and maybe say no (realistically) where I might have said yes (optimistically) in the past. This was an unintended consequence of my commitment to follow through.

2012's intention grows out of this idea of limiting my efforts. This year is all about simplification. Watching a new baby human, and tending to his every need makes it really clear that we really don't need much. We're also getting ready to move (upstairs) and that always brings on some reordering and sloughing off. My work on my desk is also part of simplifying. I'm thinking a lot, too, about my wardrobe. For the last 6 or 8 months, I've pretty much worn 20 items from a bag I got from a friend. (I've worn more clothes in the last three months or so, but really I mostly wear maternity shirts still for nursing ease.) We'll see how I'll do with FOLLOWING THROUGH on this intention this year.

Funny things.

I swear a million funny, poignant things are happening to me every day, and I can't hold onto them long enough to type them here. (Sleep deprivation has done a number on my already shitty short term memory.) Suffice it to say that I'm back to blogging (I think.) and I'll have many deep and witty things to share... wicked soon. But not tonight.

I am enjoying the fact that I am now eligible to be the butt of silly "Your mom" jokes. I guess whichever way I can begin to integrate this new identity is helpful, right?

Baby update

He slept from 11:30 until 5:30 last night. When Zak brought him to me (they slept in the guest room so that I could get some solid rest) I was so confused by the clock that I just stared at them, unsure of what was going on, of what planet I was on even. He's continued to sleep almost all day, waking only twice briefly to play and eat. I believe that he will wake up fully an inch longer tomorrow after a day like this.

Also, I was going to title this post "Don't Call it a Comeback" until I Google Imaged that phrase and found that the top clips were actually from bloggers who were coming back to their blog after some time off. So I didn't do that. However, whenever S gets out of the bath and looks out at us from under his droopy hooded towel neither Z or I can keep ourselves from singing it to him. At some point that will get old, but at this moment everything is so new and so fun.