Things I Do, Now (i.e., I'd never do this stuff pre-baby, seriously!)

Since I've had R, I find myself doing things that surprise me, sadden me (as in, pathetic-sad), and even embarrass me. Like:

1. I get into the driver's seat of the car, look over, and find in the cup holder a stale cube of bread (in plastic wrap, I assure you), a leftover bribe for getting R into the car seat without too much back-arching and screeching. I snatch it up, thinking "Jackpot," and devour it, utterly indifferent to the number of days it's been sitting there.

2. I never am able to finish my morning cup of coffee uninterrupted, so whenever I return to it, it's cold. If I made myself a fresh cup each time this happened, I'd drink us right into the poorhouse. So throughout the day, I just keep topping up my coffee with hot water, whenever I have the chance, until by the end of the day, I'm drinking a very translucent brown water for reasons I don't even understand.

3. (a) I often find myself at home, feeling weak with hunger, but unable to do anything about it because the baby's sleeping and there's nothing in the house to eat. I'll occasionally stagger into the kitchen, open all the cupboards, stare into the fridge, confirm there's nothing to eat, and drink some more pale-brown water (see 2 above).

(b) I often find myself out of the house, rushing somewhere, feeling weak with hunger but unable to do anything about it because the baby's awake, but only for the next two hours, and there's just not enough time. There's never enough time.

(c) Alright, sometimes there is food to be had. But there's only so much peanut butter, cheese, and bread a person can eat. Why peanut butter, cheese, and bread? Because these are the things that can be taken out and gulped down in approximately 30 seconds or less. Mind you, gulping down peanut butter or cheese is extremely hazardous, and should never be done unless you have a baby standing at your feet, yanking at your pant leg and wailing. In which case, you'll put your life on the line, day after day. Also, a tip to new mothers: Eat standing. Don't waste those precious seconds on stupid things like carrying the food somewhere, pulling out a chair, sitting down--all that la-di-dah nonsense.

4. I come up with asinine fantasies, such as procuring skunk spray (I've never Googled it, but is there any doubt that somebody sells it online?) and leaking it down into my neighbor's balcony, which is right below our apartment and where she emerges every freakin' hour, from 5am in the morning until 1am at night (okay, there is a short reprieve some time in the middle of the day), to smoke cigarettes. The smoke rises up and for some reason gets sucked into our apartment, if our windows are open. Sometimes it's just too hot and stuffy to keep the windows closed all the time, though, and so I'll open them, the fumes inevitably come rushing in, and when I imagine R inhaling this second-hand smoke, that's when the juvenile ideas start churning.

5. The other day, I microwaved (get your pens out, everyone, this is an original recipe, from me to you) some leftover white rice, then stirred in a handful of frozen peas (thawed with hot water) and half a can of tuna. Ambrosia from the gods--is what you'd think too, after being on a steady diet of cheese, peanut butter, and bread for the past year. I might have even moaned a little, while eating this feast. Oh my god, my stomach just growled in recollection. I need to stop blogging and find something real to eat.

Etsy Share: Mamachee Bird Rattle (on sale, too)

There is so much amazing baby stuff to be found on Etsy, but like any good thing on the Internet, there's also a surfeit of it. I tend to get overwhelmed when I have too many choices, and even found my Etsy newsletters piling up in my mailbox unread. But every so often, I'll scan through and be sucked in anew by some adorable handmade creation. I'll try to share, when I can.

My first Etsy Share is this squelchably adorable bird rattle by Mamachee. I'm being a bit of a mom by adding this, but if you order one, you might want to request that those bead eyes be replaced with simple hand-knitted ones, so that they don't come off and get swallowed accidentally by baby. Also, you can't tell by the pictures, but these rattles are a pretty nice size--not too tiny--that's perfect for baby to hug. There are more pictures on the Mamachee shop pages.

According to the Etsy newsletter, from 13 to 15 November, there will be a 10-percent to 20-percent discount on these rattles--although I couldn't find any info on that on Mamachee's homepage.

Loves/Hates

Dear R,

You're 11 months old and you have strong opinions about everything.

Right now, you love:
-being held by your dad
-food
-your stupid 100% polyester lovey, which was originally a cheap wash cloth that someone gave us and that I tried to replace with several organic lookalikes, which have all repeatedly been tossed aside
-opening and closing doors
-turning pages of books and magazines (but not actually looking at the pages or being read to)

You hate:
-being strapped down (i.e., carseat, stroller, high chair, supermarket cart, my Beco Butterfly carrier--so are we ever going to be able to go anywhere ever again? And do I have to let you eat while moving about freely, dragging fistfuls of food across the floor, leaving a slimy trail behind you like a snail?)
-lying on your back
-socks, shoes, and hats--actually anything even remotely near your head (your latest enemy is the sun shade attached to the carseat)
-getting ready for bed (but weirdly, you're okay with the actual going-to-bed part)

Recently, you were scared by:
-a helium balloon
-water spraying against the shower curtain
-being at Gymboree (I think I'm going to cancel our membership)
-three huge nurses surrounding you to collect a urine sample with a catheter because you had a fever for three days without any other symptoms and the doctor wanted to make sure it wasn't a UTI (turned out to be roseola). And I totally don't blame you for freaking out during this whole ordeal; poor baby, mom was having a very hard time keeping it together herself.

She Sleeps?

So there's been incredibly loud hammering, scraping, and rattling going on in the upstairs apartment for the past three hours now, and it's all coming through my ceiling nice and clear. It started about an hour before R's naptime, and I found myself praying the noise-makers would be prompt about pausing for lunch. But, no, not these oh-so-diligent workers. I actually started Googling white-noise makers and was about to purchase the Marpac SleepMate 980A Electro-Mechanical Sound Conditioner on Amazon, when I decided to peek in on R first, certain she'd be rolling around in her crib with her hands clamped over her little ears. But no, actually, she was sleeping the sleep of the dead. Whah?

I don't get it. This is the baby that bolts upright if I even dare breathe wrong while in the room next door, while she's asleep. This is the baby who didn't doze for more than 30 minutes, at 10-minute intervals, during a recent 16-hour international flight, because every little thing woke her up.

Now she sleeps through construction work? And continues to sleep, I might add, longer than she has in...months. I don't know what this means. Oh my god, maybe I better go check to see if she's breathing.

Does ANYONE Like Daylight Savings?

Obviously the person who came up with the idea was one of those early birds who doesn't have any small children in the house and probably goes to bed at 8am each night. Daylight savings has doomed me to having to wake up an hour earlier every day since R's body doesn't know any different. Just what all parents with babies need: one extra hour less sleep each morning. Screw you, Daylight Savings person.

Maybe Not Helpful Tip

In a pinch, breast milk works great--like an all-natural hair gel--to keep baby's hair out of her eyes. Really!

Your First Birthday

Dear R,

Your first birthday is coming up this month. I hate to admit this, but I thought about planning a party for you just because everyone else was doing it for their baby. Yep, I almost caved in to mommy-group pressure. But I didn't need to think about it too long. I'd barely begun agonizing over matching balloon and cupcake frosting colors, when I realized I couldn't do that to you. You would hate a birthday party, especially your own. Heck, while the other babies at Gymboree are either throwing themselves into each new activity or just hanging out with mom on the mats, you're the one repeatedly making her way to my shoes at the entrance, like, "Let's get the heck out of here, already."

Everyone says you're the picture of your dad, but at heart, you're more like me. You don't like too many people all at once. You're not so good with new places. And you're more often an observer, rarely a participant. So I can pretty much anticipate your reaction to a room full of noisy people with lots of attention thrown your way.

They say the first birthday celebration is usually for the parents, but I'd rather the day be for you. So we'll probably keep it low-key, just our little family: you, me, and dad. Maybe we can go to the zoo and actually see all those animals you've been avidly examining in your board books. You can still have a birthday cake, though. Let me take another stab at my whole-wheat, sugarless banana-almond cake recipe. Which may not sound very good to the you reading this now, but trust me on this: Baby R digs mom's cake.

It keeps bowling me over, the tide of feeling that accompanies my thoughts of this upcoming milestone. I actually get teary, and I'm about the least sentimental person I know (your dad gets not-so-secretly miffed every time I forget our wedding anniversary). At first I chalked it up to me being hormonal, or something, but after talking with other people, I've learned that baby's first birthday is incredibly emotional and bittersweet for most parents. I don't feel sad that you're growing up, though--that isn't it. I don't quite know yet what I'm feeling.

I thought it would be nice to take a few pictures, though--an informal family portrait. We have possibly zero photos of the three of us together. So someone else would have to take the pictures. But I don't want one of those studio ones, with the weird cloudy background, matching snowflake sweaters, and poses that make you think of high school yearbooks.

I came across the Blue Lily blog by a husband and wife photographer team and was amazed by some of their pictures:



I like how natural and at ease everyone is. No one looks posed and there aren't any stiff studio smiles.

I wish we could have a gorgeous family picture like that, in memory of your first year...but most likely, we'll be in a public place, and we'll ask some passerby, "Excuse me, would you mind taking our picture?" And your dad will be smiling, you'll probably look serious because there are strangers everywhere, and I'll have that perpetually irritated look I always seem to have in photos. But we'll all be there, and one of us will be holding you close, and that's really all that matters, right?