My real work-buddy

Before I was a mom, I didn’t realize that in becoming a mom, you don’t don a cape with the letter “M” emblazoned on it, only to somehow take off at times to wear your other roles. There’s no Clark Kent/Superman, there’s only... ok I’m not going to say Supermom, but this other person. Of course the other roles, the other costume changes, are all still there; my point is there’s no taking off the cape. You own your mom-ness. You own it, obviously every moment you spend in the company of your child(ren), but you also own it at any job you may have, any errand you run, and certainly in all social settings. Parents out there know how much they talk about their kids when their supposed to be having adult time, and the non-parents know how difficult it is to get their parent friends to not talk about their kids when their supposed to be having adult time.

So it’s impossible to turn it all off. The conversations I have with my husband at trendy restaurants, while loving sitters mind our baby monitor, are about our daughter. Not all, but most. Okay, so before I was a mom, I had heard about this phenomenon but swore against it. Of course I would be one of “those” people. Turns out, kids give you a lot to talk about; so much so that it takes dinners (and a few glasses of wine) out of their reach and cry to actually process all that they go through (and in turn, put you through). It’s amazing when your partner all of sudden becomes your work-buddy; you then realize all those office happy hours out, when you swear with your colleagues that you’re not going to talk about work, but then you inevitably do, well, this parenting this isn’t completely different from that. You two have a job to do, the biggest and most important, nonetheless, but a job.

Which is why it is so great to have a good work buddy for a life-partner. M, thanks for sharing a baby and a cubicle with me. I’d totally write your TPS reports any day.

What we notice

“I don’t have any regrets, really, except that one. I wanted to write about you, about us, really. Do you know what I mean? I wanted to write about everything, the life we’re having, and the lives we might have had.”
-Richard, from Michael Cunningham’s The Hours, p. 67

In this part, Richard, a dying writer, is talking about how he feels that he failed, that he wanted to write about everything, but the task proved “insurmountable,” that there was too much to write about; the “weather,” “the water and the land,” “the animals,” “the buildings,” “the past and the future,” “space,” “history,” and more. This passage resonated with me for years so deeply that although I couldn’t remember the exact words after I read them that I had to buy my own copy of the book so I find this part and save it.

Of course we can’t write it all down; there’s so much beauty, it’s so overwhelming, and the words to do it can’t ever be enough. But when we do get it right, even almost right, and we use words to do it, we bridge our own meaning to another’s. From one mind to the next, it’s never an exact translation of meaning, but it connects us. It’s in that struggle to get it out, the meaning we have trapped within us, that belies so much our sociality, the innate need to share, to get out of the infinite spiral staircases of our minds and find windows: not ways out, rather, but ways in, in search of connection, of shared truth.

I can’t help myself; it is so late, but it is my time, my mind is racing and I must get this out for fear that it would be lost for ever; so much it’s hard to type... heck I just wrote a poem on my iphone. Time to head to the big guns, a real keyboard.

I have been struggling about writing about people, no, certain people, in my life, who continue to surprise, fascinate, amaze, and just enliven me with their strength, their courage, their brilliance. My friends! My touchstones! These souls, all nodes in my social network, and so much much more than that! I am just marveling at the ways in which and how I know them. People, real people, that I get to know intimate details about, share and laugh with, cry with, and watch and learn from. My pillars, my mentors, my confidantes, my loves, my family... I thought about writing about them generally, as if in sepate bins/categories, but in relation to me, even, they are all intersecting subsets in the venn diagram space that I am so honored to be a part of. I can talk about my mother as a mentor, but she’s also my friend; my friend S is daily inspiration, but she’s also a pillar, giving my strength. My friend G peppers so many of my days with laughter, but also holds a flashlight, and a map to lead me out of my dark-mind days. My sister, a constant source of inspiration for her relentless commitment topursuing her dreams, and also a mentor at so many times, but also my charge. But to talk about these individuals in relation to me is so limited, so one-sided; I want to ode them, and perhaps the only way I know how to here and now is so abstract, that I will attempt to do in poem (which is a much more forgiving form for the spaces in between, the not-said).


So my friend G photographs (and so many other things!!)
But she takes pictures, and her pictures make your heart stop, just for a moment, to allow you to be frozen for the 1/32nd of a second that it took to take that frame, and when it beats again it’s racing as you chase her daughter up a sand dune, into a wave, or up high on a swing. And you are happy.

My friend B crafts (and so many other things!!), and when she does she invites you in, and together you create such a beautiful, genuine treasure, like homemade jam, magnets, buttons, or cards, and in all that time the treasure is the words you share, the lessons you learn, the meanings you make.

My friend S paints (and so many other things!!)
But she paints, and when she paints, if you get the chance to see, be prepared to stop breathing. Just for a moment, because when you do inhale again, you will breath in so much light and mist and presence, for you are there, walking with her, being led by her hand, through the windows of her beautiful mind.

My sister makes people laugh (and so many other things!!), and when she does she does it with style, and she does it through wedding speeches, as a clown for little ones, in her hilarious scripts. She reminds us that the laughter is always there, in all parts, in every day, in everyone, just needs to found, let out, released.

My mom listens (and so many other things!!), and when she does she gets it, the down-deep, the hard to put into words, the pain, the sorrow, but also the love and the courage. And you sit and tell, and connect, and know that you are not alone.

My dad takes care of (and so many other things!!), and when he does he does it so silently, so thoughtfully, so completely, and never expects acknowledgment. A smile and a nod and maybe just time enough to get the paper, a coffee, and a hug.

My M loves in every way he knows how (and so many other things!!), and when he does he does through his shoes, which carry him to work every morning and his family every evening;
through his eyes, which read through so much data, which cherish so many moments of our growing daughter’s life;
Through his hands, which help and heal, which make music, which hold his family.

My people, my pillars, my reasons.


I wrote this over a week ago, and only now just had the guts to post.

A girl and her chair

Christmas came a little early to the Kent household... Nanna and Poppy, please don't be mad, but we couldn't resist opening up the GIANT box that came our way for two (well, three) reasons... (1) we just had to see what was inside; (2) the only thing cooler than a GIANT box is an OPEN GIANT box; and (3) Spot asked us too (no really, he loves GIANT boxes).

All I can say is, it was a win...

With Festivus upon us, this is all I had time for, but I'm brewing some more substantial bloggage. Till then, peace out, Cyber Monday (and good riddance!).

A Day of Grace

Well, it’s about time, Mommy finally let me play with her Button Machine. We struck a deal, something about how if I hugged her lots and promised to not to wake up and sing at 3am, she’d let me test out her Button Machine. I know she’s been writing you all to say what it’s been like to become my Mommy, but now it’s my turn. So I thought I’d tell you all about my day. It was pretty fantastic, but I’m pretty good at having fantastic days.

So, I didn’t wake up at 3am, but I decided I wanted to see Mommy earlier this morning; I could tell when she put me to bed last night that she missed me. So I yelled for her to come in. She did, after a few minutes, but she didn’t look like she usually does in the morning; she smelled more like bed then soap and had on an old t-shirt, not the shiny clothes she usually wears when she comes to get me. Her hair looked really silly too! I offered her one of my pacis to make her feel better. She brought me a bottle and then I helped her get ready. Mommy thanked me for doing a real good job letting her shower; I even took all the white paper off the role in the bathroom and made sure to dump all my toys on the floor, just like she asked.

After we got all ready in our outside clothes and went downstairs, I went over and tried to eat Cat. No, I didn’t; that would be silly!! I did give him lots of pets and was really GENTLE like Mommy I always says. Mommy made me put on Jacket, and I got real mad at Jacket because he always pins my arms down for a second, but then it was okay. We went outside and scraped all the Cold off the car windows, and then Mommy put me in Seat. I get mad at Seat just like I get mad at Jacket, but Mommy I always tells me that I’m okay and then I am. It helps when I get to squeeze Car Bunny; he always gives me great hugs back.

Then we got to School! My favorite. That’s because Miss Sakineh and Miss Matilda and Mr. William are there and they are my teachers AND my best friends. Except for Mommy and Daddy, they’re the best. They teach me all sorts of things and give me lots of hugs and tell me what a Good Girl I am and feed me yummy food and do Art Projects with me. And they have a special room with furniture that’s the size of me and the rest of the Littles (that’s what Mommy says I am, a Little). I don’t even cry when Mommy leaves because she always plays with me at School and I have so much fun there and I like that I have Family and also School. The other Littles are fun, too; we do everything together. Mostly we show Miss Sakineh and Miss Matilda and Mr. William how to make the Toys work, because they’re always asking us to show them.

So we had lots of play time and lots of eating time, and then nap time. All that was fun, but not nearly as fun as when Daddy picked me up! Daddy comes and gets me most days, and it’s so fun because I have so much to tell him about School. He takes me home and then we play untl Mommy comes home and then we eat again. We have a great system for dinner. Mommy and Daddy give me a food, and I eat a little bit, put some in my hair, and then after throw it on the floor they then give me another food, and we go like that for a while. At the end I usually get Fruit - blueberries are my favorite. I could live on a big blueberry. Then sometimes yummy and delicious prunes. And of course milk! I keep trying to tell mommy and daddy that it’s really called “Nana” but they keep calling it “milk,” or sometimes, “em-eye-ell-kay.” We all know that it’s Nana, though, so I don’t know why they’re confused. Silly Mommy and Daddy. They started letting me have Nana while they put on my PJs. I get mad at PJs, too, just like Jacket and Seat, because they also restrict me for a moment. But having Nana helps.

Then the Best Part of Mommy’s Day comes; that’s when she holds me and I read her a story. Well, when she reads it, she only goes in one direction, but I think she’s learning that Books are made to be opened and shut lots of times and you can just pick whatever place you want. I like snuggling with Mommy, too. Daddy wraps me in Blanket; tonight Daddy rocked me in Chair, which he says is the Best Part of His Day.

I’m tired now, so I’m going to go to sleep; Mommy just reminded me that I have to go to the Land of Nod so I can welcome all the new babies into the world (I have lots to tell them). And Mommy loves me to the moon and back and I love her and Daddy that much too.

Sweet dreams! I’ll come back and visit again.

Father, Son, and the Holy... Comb?

A little flashback to August 14 here; I never did report on Grace’s baptism. And it was so lovely! We had G baptized at First United Methodist Church in North Hollywood, California. And, why did we pick a church nearly 3000 miles away from home? Because it's our family’s church, and the pastor that presides over the congregation not only married M and I, but he also baptized M and his sister (Grace’s Godmother). So the church and Pastor Joey have a lot of personal significance in our lives, and we wanted all our families to be there, which they were.

The family and friends that came were incredible, and everyone did a little something that week to remind us that our California peops, despite a 3 hour time difference, 5 hour flight, and 7-day drive, are really there for us. My parents, sister, and cousin took so much time out of their busy lives to spend with us that week. John, Grace’s G-Daddy, asked his friend Florence to sing a special song for Grace during the service. Pastor Joey gave such an inspiring sermon, and as he walked Grace up and down the aisle, my eyes teared with how much his faith has really fathered us over the years. Rosemary (Grace’s Grammy) and John bent over backward to transform their house and yard into such an inviting space for all of our family and close friends to gather. Troas, Brandon, Sydney and Landon (Grace’s aunt and uncle - and now Godparents- and her cousins) aligned their trip from Pittsburgh with ours so we could all be together. My brother Rob, his wife and their two kids, drove the long way from northern California to be there. Grace’s Great Gram also came down from Santa Barbara to be there for our G. So many friends gathered, for this special day; we were so touched, and we recognize just how blessed we are.

So the holy comb? Well, Grace was, and still is, infatuated with putting anything she can into her mouth. It’s as if she can see through her mouth, not just taste and feel. Like it’s her superpower. So when I went I tried to do run a comb over her head, as quickly as I could, right after we hoisted on her Christening gown, and she grabbed it from me. It went straight between her four little teeth. I think for a moment we locked eyes, and her expression basically said, “Listen, Mommy.... You've got this ridiculous dress on me, I’m in this weird big house with a bunch of people staring at me, and you can have it one of two ways: (1) I keep the comb, and I’ll chill out... or (2) you get the comb back; and we’ll see who’s louder, me or that organ over there. Your choice...” (said behind the two biggest and bluest eyes in the whole world).

So, we went with option 1, we all got to keep her eardrums, and she did great! My little angel and her holy comb.

In closing, the verse below really resonates with me. I am always moved by how we gather over ritual, and how those ceremonies unite us, helping us to recognize how connected we all are. Our gatherings do this, and so do the honesty of infants and the wisdom of the oldest among us: bring us together and show us how to love, from our toes to our noses, without even trying.

1 Corinthians 12:13 “For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bond or free; and have been all made to drink into one Spirit.”

Letter to an expecting mom…

So, I recently wrote this letter to a dear, very-pregnant, friend who bravely admitted her anxieties about becoming a mom, and a very passionate and lengthy response just gushed out of me. Although this may be due to who I select as friends, nearly all of my mom-friends would probably say that becoming a mom is the most intense and significant experience in their lives. I am including a slightly-doctored version of the letter here, which may or may not resonate with fellow moms (and dads) out there…

I have been thinking about you ALL DAY and frustrated about not being able to email you. I've been bullet pointing so many things, mentally composing drafts of responses to you in my head, only to (in my head) crumpling up and tossing them in the wastebasket and starting over. So much to say it's hard to know where to begin but here goes...(By the way, part of the reality with being a new mom is not being able to get time to get to the computer... how hard is that, to get to the computer, to write a little email? Sometimes, REALLY HARD... why I can't endorse a hand-held device (i.e. ONE hand) enough, for doing EVERYTHING... from ordering on Amazon, to surfing the net, to using GPS, to reading -yes, reading novels, to making reservations, to Facebook, to pictures, to baby apps, to music, to everything... an iPad, while lovely, actually sometimes seems TOO BIG). Okay, I digress, but channeling new mommy (plus Steve Job's recent passing) made me type that.

So, the last thing I would ever do, particularly because you are embarking (are already in) the land of everyone telling you what to do, what to buy, and worse, how to think and feel, is respond by saying something along the lines of "it'll all work itself out" or “you’re worrying too much." How dismissive! If any well-meaning person said that to you, I apologize, and they probably meant it in a good way or from a good place, but I really flinched, on more than a few occasions, from people telling me (after I spilled some of my mommy guts) about being "too hard on myself." What I mean here can’t even completely be verbalized, but what I want to say is everything you are feeling, I would venture, transcends "mommy anxiety." It is, in essence, you becoming a Mommy. Put another way, you are voicing a process that I would argue that everyone goes through, in their own way, and I think you are ahead of the game for your ability to recognize your feelings and communicate about them.

So much of what I'm recalling bridges the last-trimester to newborn time for us, and of course that is just the biggest divide ever, but I think the post-partum reflections are relevant now, too! Your little one is already very much here and real and your little one already, just a bit more “integrated" now.

I know and recall being nervous and scared about giving birth (who isn't??), but I took some solace in the fact that(a) everyone has a mommy, so (b) a whole lotta women did it too. It’s not about performing; you don't have to look pretty or be graceful or smart OR BE BRAVE about it. No one gets a grade. There are many ways to give birth, and the way that you do will almost completely be out of your control. The things you can control, you've done already (i.e. get prenatal care, be healthy in pregnancy, torture yourself with videos and books and conversations like these). When your baby comes into this world will largely be up to him.

On epidurals: if you are vacillating, then that is fine; it is your decision. But if you need anyone to give you "permission" or "endorsement," here it is...they may not always work 100%, but even a not-perfect epidural probably kicks the shit out of a "natural" birth. And there are incredible success stories (like mine); I had no pain post epidural until after Grace was born. I napped; it was fine. I was very very lucky, and I can say that, because I felt Pitocin-induced contractions for almost 3 hours before I got it. Survivable experience, no lasting trauma, but OMG that epidural was the best medicine I've ever gotten. If given the option, I would always get one.

Other pains? Yes, inevitable, but nothing that isn't temporary or that isn’t usually able to be alleviated, often pretty quickly. Lady-part pain? Yes. Nipple pain? Yes. Don't deviate from ibuprofen or Tylenol or both during that post-birth period (i.e take on a schedule, before you feel pain), and I found the nipple gel pads in the fridge to be amazing (put on in between nursing). Eat a lot of ice cream (if you aren't already). No joke, it helps. The hospital might give you these ice-pads; I loved them and highly recommend, along with dermaplast (numbing spray for downstairs). Not too much on your feet for weeks after; after too much standing time, I had to sit(literally, my pelvic bones hurt), but ALL THAT GOES AWAY. I promise. I also sat on Grace's boppy for a few weeks after (think: donut).Everyone says how important to sleep is, and they're right, and when they say "sleep when the baby sleeps" I always got annoyed because I’m a shitty sleeper, but they're right. If you can, do. I at least reclined.

Parenting... holy diapers what a big topic. I'll let you know what the answer is as soon as I figure it out. Only that I can say is you GOT IT IN THE BAG. For every 1 moment that you feel nervous or anxious or can’t figure out what to do, there will be 10 (or more like a 100)when you do figure it out and you do have a discovery (the three of you together) and you just nail it. You guys will have some moments where you are both tired and confused, or disagree about how to do something, but ultimately (and most of the time you will be conscious of this) you will becoming the absolute best versions of the team that you decided to form. This is the biggest adventure you could ever possibly go on, and you're doing it together! Ah I remember a time when I worried (hello hormones but it was also a real phase to be going through) that it took some time for Mike to be as "in love" with Gracie as I was (i.e. he loved her, but the cast-iron hold she had over his essence lagged a little in its formation than it did on mine). Now I joke (and have for at least 6 months) that Gracie has not one but two mommies. He cries like a little girl (sorry Mike, but it’s true) over her, because he is so deeply in love with her, and our parenting is thus 100% 50/50. Your partner will be the same way. Yes, you may have to shoulder more in the beginning if nursing, but then he can do more of all the other stuff (i.e. all when not at work) diapers, cooking, cleaning (but don't worry so much about cleaning and take it easy on cooking).

Talk ahead of time about... whatever you want to and whenever you want to! The most important part is being able to talk to each other; none of it is binding! It's that old head-fake (it's not the what you talk about or the what you agree upon; you're just practicing for after baby is here)! I recommend against making too many promises or declarations (like "We 100% won't... (fill in the blank: use a pacifier, let the baby sleep with us, give my kid candy, use disposable diapers, WHATEVER). It's all practice for making decisions for after he is here.

I wish the last trimester was a time where you really could relax, but how can you when you can (probably, at least this was me) barely breathe (or at least have to choose between breathing and eating), getup 6 times a night to pee, have heartburn, and have all this external pressure??

Things that helped the most:
1. having a few good fellow-mom confidantes that I could run everything by (just to make sure I wasn't crazy) and that would listen to me talk incessantly about my questions about whatever that week’s challenges were (nursing schedules, sleep schedules, food adventures, all of it). Do you have a tribe yet (or better yet, a few good one-on-ones; sometimes groups can get competitive)? Oh I hope, almost more than anything, that you have at least one mom-friend that you can say anything to. I am also here, too!!!

2. There are few good reads, and yes, there are many useful parenting manuals (I felt like we had to start somewhere, right? You don't just inherently know how to bake a soufflé, nor do you inherently know whatto do with a baby). I liked Baby Whisperer (Eat, Activity, Sleep,REPEAT) and Baby 411, but I still found myself googling my specific problem on that specific day at all hours of the night ALL THE TIME. Still do. What stayed with me even more was Rachel Cusk's A Life’s Work (read after, not now) and I loved this TED lecture:

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/rufus_griscom_alisa_volkman_let_s_talk_parenting_taboos.html

But don't read ahead; just focus on what your currently dealing with. Any more is overwhelming. I'm the world's dumbest person about potty-training because I am literally not ready to even begin conceiving of it, let alone read about it.

3. HELP, HELP, and MORE HELP. Never turn down any that is offered, at least in the first 6 months, whether it's a fellow mom-friend who offers to watch the baby for 3 hours while you sleep (or Facebook) or whatever, or casseroles, or whatever. Yes, those were imperative statements; wanted this email to not be preachy, but sorry, I guess I can’t help myself either!

4. A little beer and a little wine never hurt a nursing baby. Personal decision, up to you, but mama needs to unwind and stress is definitely way worse.

What else? Oh! That's right; it all frigging changes so fast that whatever challenge presents itself now will be replaced by another challenge in a month that makes the first challenge look easy...having said that, I think the first 6 months is hardest only because new mommies are by definition, new. So after a while you get used to the roller coaster, or marathon, and you just start enjoying both the up and down hills.... but, What the hell do I know? I'm just an anxious mommy, too! So please TELL ME when you figure it all out!

So much love,
Erin

Finding Community

Ever moved? Ever? Well, I think 90% of people I know and love have, and of those, probably another 90% have moved at least a 2 hours drive (although most at least a 2 hour flight) from whatever they considered their childhood home. Okay, my network is not a random sample, and technically I didn’t even count up all my friends and measure their geographic distance from point of origin. It just feels like 90%. And for even the remaining 10% (which may be an over-estimate), they’ve certainly been affected by an exodus of friends and family moving away from their hometown. What does it mean, all this relocating? All these moving companies and having to find new post offices and grocery stores and dry-

cleaners and hair stylists and mechanics and friends.

It means excitement, right? The new job, the new partner, the new adventure that beckoned, that said, “move here! It’s better over here, this new place!” It promises upward movement; new opportunity, growth. The experience of discovery, of donning new fashions, assuming new customs, trying new food. It means saying “hello” in a new way; of finding new challenges and seeing new views.

It also means saying goodbye, for however long, to old places, deep-rooted friendships, navigating effortlessly through familiar streets, to knowing how to order what’s not listed on the menu, to secret haunts and town traditions, to the predictable. To loved ones, to easy, face-to-face conversation or wordless activities. To people that you trust with your kids, that will cat-sit and water your plants and fetch your mail. To going to parties where you know more than one person, and they know you; to grapevines. To community.

Where has community gone, in this present time of ours? Where does it inevitably spring up? Online, social-networking? Sure, in some ways, and I would argue that these forums are a resource beyond just emotional support. But they can’t replace, can’t substitute for handshakes and hugs, for brownies that a neighbor brings by, for help shoveling out cars in the winter and sharing bbq in the summer. It does happen, again and again, that new ties form and relationships start and in my narrow academic/military experience, I’ve encountered incredible instances of spontaneous community-making. Even when that community consists of only two people, or two families. It happens, and it is such a beautiful thing to meet someone or some people and feel that you have known them your whole life.

But, I fear and feel that there’s an underlying loneliness to these times, too, and I think it’s one that most of us see, all too often. I’m not just talking about the protoypical lonely person; the older widow or widower image that we all assume must be lonely. I’m talking about the antisocialism we all encounter in our cars; the anonymity of the majority of our business transactions; the being in a crowded cafe, bus stop, or even cocktail party and feeling that lack of real connection. Is this the way of humans, or is this the way of the human globalized and networked and en masse?

The thing is, though, in these times (read always) there is always the chance to connect. There is always a back-story to every encounter. We notice, and we are noticed. There’s the neighbor who’s name I still don’t know who left baby pajamas and a toy on my doorstop after G was born. There’s my other neighbor (and now dear friend) who constantly brings us over brownies and adores watching our cat whenever we go out of town. There’s the friends who connect you with other friends until all of sudden your husband is playing in a random band with someone’s friend’s husband’s wife’s husband. There’s the UPS deliveryman that you never realized always delivered the endless Amazon packages at your door who finally meets you and asks about your baby and reveals that his wife was also pregnant, but that they lost their little boy. Who you realized, was waiting to make a connection with you, but you weren't home before when he dropped off all those boxes of diapers. Who was waiting to look you in the eye and wish your family well.

There are true souls out there, who want out companionship, who are hoping for connection, under all that busy-ness and stress. Don’t we all? I think community is as alive as it ever was, it just looks a little different than it may have in the past. It’s online, yes, but it’s also down the street. It’s in the churches and temples and at the few remaining mom-and-pops’, but it’s also at Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks and Target. It’s in the little attempts we make; the holding the door, the unbidden greeting, the smile, the briefest of looks of understanding.

It’s bringing that neighbor who you keep running into but won’t look you in the eye homemade cookies that your 3-year-old made and decorated; who couldn’t that melt?

It’s there; community always was and always will be.

Su, this is dedicated to you.

The "Other" Me

The blog is BACK… or so I attempt to promise, and therefore deliver. Where have I been? Besides living, I’ve been pretty busy being what I like to now dub the “E Triad”: wife & mom | researcher | “other” (which includes everything else, like “person who works out” and “person who shops for groceries” and “person who occasionally talks on phone to friends and family”). Also add to other: “person who blogs.” I’ve been neglecting my other, so to speak and letting my blog go fallow. But I have a lot to report, mostly on Gracie as well as other caffeine-inspired manic word-binges, so stay tuned…

In the meantime, let me pontificate on the need to be an “other.” Where oh where did extracurricular Erin go? I was just reflecting, today, on my abandonment of all things crafty. Not that I was ever talented as a crafster, but I did have a level of dash and daring when it came to the home arts; if you’re reading this, you may know about my epic wedding-favor jam-making expedition, or my many attempts at knitting baby hats and adult scarves. Or my PaperSource stationery kits.

Ah, memories. Don’t worry, I haven’t been so bold as to throw out the boxes of college and high school t-shirts I’ve saved for the some-day t-shirt quilt I intend to make, and yes, I still have drawers full of stickers, rubber stamps, and various kinds of glitter, even multiple shades of sealing wax. But these items are growing dusty, because there is no time, and I must admit, zero interest. I suppose I thought I would be a crafty mom. Yes, maybe there’s time, but maybe part of me just realized that it’s okay to totally veg out when watching TV; one doesn’t always have to be gluing something together. Or maybe I’m just too exhausted to care. Yes, I think creative outlets are so important, for everyone, but I don’t know that all of my former life craftiness was always so creative. Sometimes, it was just obsessive.

Or maybe I just have too much laundry to fold when Glee is on! Speaking of which, I have some serious couch-sitting to do…

Cheers!
~e

East coast west coast

Just as long at there's a coast! We just got back from a 10 day trip home to our families in California, followed by a weekend trip to Ocean City, MD. Okay, let's start with the left coast...

Left Coast:
California was so lovely; we got to see so many friends and family, some of whom met Grace for the first time, and I think we had In-n-out like 3 times, phenomenal sushi (as always) from Wasaa, great shopping in Fashion Island, and more importantly, some serious newfie riding (stay tuned for some pics). Though a bit chilly, our walk (picture here) on Big Corona was lovely. G welcomed the water rushing around her chubby little toes. No fear. I can't wait till she's bigger and I can totally geek out and take her tide-pooling, kelp-diving, and yes, whale-watching*. In our whirlwind week we saw so many wonderful friends, met some new little ones (hi Sabiha and Gavin!), and celebrated Grace's baptism at First United Methodist Church in North Hollywood. An entry on that to follow!

Right Coast:
So this was our first adventure with Mid Antlantic beaches, thanks to our incredibly generous and kind neighbors for lending us their beach condo in Ocean City. We only stayed one day and one night, fearing incredibly unpredictable DC metro traffic and in light of M's intense anesthesia oral boards studying. Ocean City (the other "OC" as I now call it) is fun. Fun with a capital "LV" if you know what other fungle I'm talking about. I felt myself reminiscing about Vegas throughout our brief stay, although I will say the similarity ends at the beachline. Well, sort of. It's interesting; there's a whole phenomenon of planes an boats dragging or displaying in some other way billboards. Yes! Billboards, advertising everything from crab buffet specials to pajamas to beer. The beach dropoff was a bit steep and the waves big enough that we couldn't take G into the water, but if left up to her she would have splashed right in. She had to settle for just her chubby little toes again. She also got to see a real live crab and eat sand!

So this is not meant to be a comparison or competition; both coasts have my vote any day. G agrees; she looked at me in both places as if to ask, "Mommy, why did you bring our sound machine to this place with all this sand and water?"


I bring a little beach into her room each night. Helps us all sleep and dream of vacations like the two we just had.

*For any wayward and clearly lost soul who happened on this blog that isn't super familiar with my past, I dabbled in both dolphin training and whale-watch guiding in my past (also teaching kids about tide pools, and of course, kelp). At this point in my life, M referred to me, in an endearing way, as a tour guide.

Boddler

So when does a little person transition from baby to toddler? I don’t know the answer to this, and lately I’m perplexed. G isn’t quite the warm little bundle (or bunson, as my sister calls her) that she used to be. She moves, she talks, she yanks on everything, she laughs and gets other people to laugh, and she has attitude! And emotion. I sometimes say that she’s just months away from being a teenager.

But she’s not wearing shoes or even eating finger foods yet, nor can she outscoot our cat. She’s still my “littles.”

So I’ve invented a new developmental phase, for those of us baffled parents who are in that venn diagram space between infant and toddler: boddler. Our little wobbly boddlers, with their jagged little fractions of teeth, adorable entonations, rapidly cycling emotional states, and drunken little movements. My friend Gigi calls these the “golden months,” and I must admit I get it. I get that we’re moments away from the treacherous power that comes with being able to walk, climb, and hoist.

Anyone out their with boddler stories to tell?

I know the phase is short and soon I’ll be quietly looking away while my full-fledged toddler has a a full-fledged tantrum in some extremely public place. Soon after, the power of speech will render volume testing and a litany of “why’s” (all absolutely developmentally necessarily and adorably precocious in their own ways). So G’s boddler phase will come and go quickly.

But she’ll always be my baby…

I think I'm going to fire my equipment manager/ safety inspector/ industrial hygenist... oh wait, that would be me.

I am exhausted... becoming a parent entails all sorts of equipment decisions and equipment maintenance. Yes, yes, as us newbies are repeatedly reminded by veterans (which is an extremely relative distinction), babies don't come with manuals. The problem is, every stinking contraption that comes with being a parent does have a manual, and if you were to stack them all cover to cover, you'd have an impressive tower of Manualese. A dusty, seldom if ever visited, library of Manualese. I am of the generation of wifi, as well, so along with recycling all of the boxes and Amazon boxes that my plastic fantastic world now comes in, out go most of the manuals and extraneous paperwork with the recycling (or we would be featured in the show Hoarders). Yes, I don't read all the manuals; fortunately, the exhaustion overcomes the guilt. But in my activity budget*, I fail to account for two things: (1) that in addition to counters and floors, the many pieces of "equipment" (think everything from toys to crib to diaper genie to high chair to car seat to... picture gotten?) need either maintenance (batteries, adjustment, linens changed) or cleaning, and (2) that my daughter is growing, all the time, and will need new things or have things sized for her.

Sometimes I think that if you were to follow all the rules, be babywise, expecting what you're supposed expect, and have the happiest baby on the block, you'd need a jobshare just to be a stay at home parent (i.e. two people staying at home!). So you can't, of course, and you cut corners where you can, some here, some there, and you learn to drown out the judgy judgsters (mostly in your head, but clearly not always!). I often say that becoming a parent has made me more empathic, rather than more judgmental, because I am now confronted with the hardest job I could ever imagine and some days it feels like I am either a pin ball or a cat toy and I know all other parents feel the way I do. I may not let G watch TV (go me) but I did let her fall out the stroller. I may have an organic mattress (!!), but it's likely that a toy or two of hers were made in China. Point is, if I'm mentally pointing the finger at someone else, they could point it right back at me. I'm not saying I don't have values or standards, of course I do, but I feel a whole lot warmer to everyone, young and old, parent and not, because most of the time, we're all just doing the best we can.

Tonight I finally figured out how to adjust the car seat straps (make them go through the next slit up!). Probably should have done that a few weeks ago; G has been looking a bit hunched. I guess my jobshare forgot. That's okay; no judgment.

*Tip of the hat to my old animal behavior days... how we measure animals in the wild in their time between behavior states. I secretly would love it if someone would, without my knowing, observe me in the wild and report back to me how I spend my time. I'm sure it would be shocking at first, then very dull.

Grace

"Grace, it’s a name for a girl… and a thought that, changed the world."

-U2





It’s so fitting that we named our daughter after a state of being that I so often aspire to and yet can’t quite reach. Whether I’m tripping over my feet, our cat, or my words, I am so far from that. Grace seems to know something, a secret, about the world that I hope she keeps and spills at the same time. She takes such pleasure, such joy out of all of her moments, and her bouts of sorrow are short (though often very dramatic). The U2 song I quoted above goes on to say, “Grace makes beauty, out of ugly things.” I love this simple image, because it is such a message of hope for a tired parent, a frustrating traffic jam, even an unpleasant interaction with another. If we could all just take pause and allow the ugly to happen and then just let it go, surrender and just let it wash over us and away, and then embody, just for a moment, grace… then the afterwards is just so sweet, and so beautiful.



This is what my daughter teaches me. All of the moments are special, even the tough ones, with grace in my heart and Grace in my arms.

Live and Learn

G is now just beginning to show little signs of fear. Her daddy put her on his shoulders and she was so happy, but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her lower lip started to tremble. She was scared! Of course we brought her down right away and reassured her, but the experience is teaching me that G is learning; learning about cause and effect, or more broadly, that information learned from one experience can be applied to another.

Sadly, some of these realizations have come with unpleasant learning moments, like when she had to get three daily consecutive shots of antibiotics and on the third day, a very happy and bubbly G who was interacting with the medical office staff begin to cry, not after the shot, but when the nurse swabbed her leg with alcohol. She had remembered yesterday’s experience; the swab was joined in her memory with the pain of the needle. Oh the little one cried herself to sleep on my chest that afternoon. But you know, the shots worked, and her 5 week long ear infection is (finally) clearing up.

Before this blog entry gets too sad, let me also mention that G is also learning about love and laughter, too. She finds people, especially little bitty people, hilarious. They’re her size but they do all kinds of crazy things, like play with toys she’s never seen before, say sounds she’s never heard before, and give big fat crazy grins right back at her. She thinks her cousins S and L are just about the funniest people she could ever imagine. And she’s now trying on different laughs; she’s got a glee shriek, a rather dry cackle, and an anticipatory giggle.

It’s such a gift, the best kind, the kind you keep receiving over and over again, to watch babies learn. Whether it’s how to roll over, how to protect oneself from falling, how to make a new sound, or one of the millions (infinite, really) connections that the vast array of developing neurons make, it is such a gift. It’s getting to learn everything again, anew, and it makes the whole world into such a better and simpler place. Watching a baby learn is falling in love with the world, all its hangups, pitfalls, missteps.

This too shall pass

I recall thinking, when G was about 3 months old, about how I worried her cradle cap might never go away, despite the fact that I was scrubbing it with olive oil and a brush, and despite our pediatrician's reassurance that it goes away for all babies. I remember thinking (but not really worrying), but what if my baby is an outlier? What if she has cradle cap into her teens? Granted she'd have hair before then, and there are far bigger fish to fry than cradle cap, but this memory comes back when I think about milestones and what moving targets they are.

I think about these in my work life; I'm an academic with looooonnnnggggg lasting projects, some so long that they just sag against my neck and shoulders like old and decaying albatross carcasses (wow, what a rather gross or bleak depiction of cancer epi studies!), and I'm constantly having to create timelines, either for my many advisors (think bosses) or my own nagging anxiety. Point is, the deadlines (usually self-imposed and always unrealistic) keep shifting... backward. So the draft I thought would be ready in May isn't ready until July, the analyses that I should have finished weeks ago still loom undone. But not for lack of trying, slaving really, away at the computer until my eyes are bloodshot and my tendonitis flares. It's just that life (and well-meaning) coauthors get in the way, making things take longer than they "should."

But what is this "should" anyway? Hard work and good results take time. So does development! And each one of us has her own internal clock, but we forget this innate truth and compare ourselves to some higher standard of "should." So-and-so has this much done, these many publications, this much accomplished by this date, so I "should" too. Or, so-and-so's baby (or Baby ABC in book XYZ) is already smiling/rolling-over/crawling/walking/talking so mine "should" too. Whatever happened to variation? Diversity? Individual pace?

It's always been there, always will be, but so many of us subscribe to this idea of the "should." Yet, before you know it, the paper gets written, the cradle cap passes, and your baby sits up!

The Boob Juice Vacuum

“You know, there’s a kind of psychosis that acccompanies breastfeeding, and only moms that have gone through it and come out the other side really understand it.”

This was the beginning of the rather eloquent, rather humorous, and most definitely needed response I received from my ob/gyn as she helped coached me out of my four-times-a-day pumping bonanza. Yes, I often and regularly pump four times a day (during my Mon-Thurs work days – Friday I usually pump twice and feed Grace directly). Here, wait, let me walk through a typical day:

5:00am – M leaves, I contemplate rising and working out (this happens 20-30% of the time, otherwise I snooze on and off till…)
6:00am – Rise, as quickly as possible shower, blowdry, don work clothes
6:30am – Go downstairs to prep bags: usually 4: Grace’s bottle bag, my pump with cooler, my work bag, my lunch bag… more if I also have odds and ends like a diaper bag (if we’re going somewhere after daycare) or just stuff I need to bring for daycare.
6:45am – Make and eat breakfast as a I listen to G stirring and cooing through the monitor (NOTE: I have to eat something, as I am ravenous at this point)
6:50am – Go upstairs to breastfeed G, change her, and play for a lil bit
7:30am - Come downstairs, situate G in her chair or jumper, schlep bags to the car (note: in the dead of winter this also involved scraping ice and turning on the car (and pray no one steals it!) to warm and defrost
7:45am – Leave for daycare
8:05am – Check G into her room, sign her out, deliver her deliverables (bottles, extra stuff)
8:15am – Drive to work, usually get there at 8:45am
9:00am – PUMP #1
work work work…
12:00pm – PUMP #2
work work work…
3:00pm – PUMP #3
work work work…
4:15pm – leave work to get G at daycare, arrive at 4:40pm
5:15/5:30pm – Arrive home, depending on traffic gods!
5:30pm – begin arduous transfer of leftover bottles from daycare, lunch dishes, pump parts to dishwasher (and clean parts out of dishwasher), pumped milk into bottles for daycare next day, all while attempting to play with and spend time with G (unless of course she is cashed out from not napping at daycare… another topic for another blog entry!)
5:45pm – Feed G in her high chair the New Food of the Day (super fun)
6:00pm – Bath time, play time jammy time
6:30pm – Breastfeed G, settler her down
7:00pm – Rest her in her crib, tiptoe out, make some dinner and eat it while working/ catching up on email
8:00pm – start laundry/clean up, maybe sneak in some shows
9:00pm – PUMP #4
9:30pm – prep G’s dreamfeed – always a bottle, go in and give it to her
10:00pm – crawl into bed, usually a little wired and needing to read to calm down….
(repeat 4 times; Friday is my work at home day, and both Thursday and Friday we have an angel in the form of a part-time nanny who loves on G and gets her to make up for lost nap time at daycare!)

Yes, the days do vary, and occasionally I only squeeze 2 pumps in at the office, but 3 I the norm. Wow, makes sense I’m tired, right? So when my obgyn gave me “permission” (yes, I needed it) to cut back on pumping, I literally walked out the door 2 inches taller. Which is good, since according to today’s measurement I’ve shrunk a quarter inch this past year. G is almost 7 months, and pumping this much is really overwhelming me. And I’ve needed to pump this much to keep up with what we feed her during the day, because I can’t keep getting up in the middle of the night to give her the extra calories she needs to thrive and grow AND be the least bit productive at work. I sit in front of a computer and have meetings with really smart people and I need to at least fain cleverness, if not actual ability, which I can’t do when I’m waking up 3 times a night (I was doing this for about 2-3 months before we instigated the dreamfeed and a little bit of sleep “coaching” as my yoga studio likes to call it, yes, it’s just ferberizing). Now we’re stuck with the legacy of the dreamfeed (which we’re slowly easing out of).

But the point of this (now rather long) entry was to focus on the conversation with my obgyn and the moments of clarity that followed. Dr. L also began to tell me of the travesty that is parenting today, that we’re all so hell-bent on the perfect we’re missing the really good stuff, as she put it, the “messy.” And parenting is messy, she continued, and needs to be. But we’re all too wrapped up in our own little tight, pressurized cocoons, trying to do parenting as best as we absolutely can. So we kill ourselves in the name of doing what we think is Best for our Children. We think we can be the allstar we always used to be at work, albeit with our pump sessions (which we of course do with a handsfree pump so we can work along with… I shudder to think if at this stage I had a treadmill desk!). We can be supermoms and steam and puree organic farmer’s market food veggies for our little ones. We can even get back into shape by working out at 5am during the week to workout videos and jog strolls on the weekend. And although we can’t go out to much any more, at least we can make sure to update those web-based photo albums every month to keep everyone abreast of our babies and our families and our witty witticisms! Okay, I’m inserting a little (a lot!) of autobiography here. But in the interest of honest, sanity, and community, I’m coming clean, or at least trying to.

Rant’s over. I am that person on some level, but I am also the person who can step outside and see this crazy, earnest little mom… and love her all the same.

And this little crazy mom is going to wean herself, bit by bit, from her boob juice vacuum.

I wish 30 days hath May...

Or less! M is off to Pittsburgh this month for a rotation at Mercy Hospital, so it's just us girls at the house. We're having a lovely time, but we miss Daddy. He'll be home on the weekends, so we just have to tough it out.

I've often heard and read about the fears that some couples have that having a child will change your relationship. Presumably the fear is of drifting apart or losing romance in the constant upheaval of raising a child. Although I suppose I can understand this fear, the fact that people forego having children over it has saddened me. In my opinion, of course having a child changes your relationship; but if there was any way to deepen my love for my partner, it would be to watch him become a parent and to watch him fall in love (and fall hard) with this tiny little human that I am also so in love with. To have someone to share in all the triumph, heartache, and overwhelming oblivion of becoming a parent is the greatest gift I have ever received from my marriage. I of course recognize that this is my experience and my interpretation; I know that not every relationship has the same goals or investment. I am sad for those that do not, however.
So yes, my relationship is changed; where it was once unidimensional, a continuum stretching from M to me, it is now become multidimensional, with energy stretching out in these three, intersecting directions. I love that I will get to watch M and G's relationship grow as much our own relationships grow. I love that we are a crowd, a trinity, a family.

Mind your peas and carrots...

And definitely your rice cereal. Oh Grace minds it!

I love the adult look of distaste that wafts over her face when she's unsure, and then like her father, in automatic dislike mode, when she mouths a new food for the first time (or in the case of rice cereal, every time). It's as if she's saying...

"I can see what the puree-tor was intending; there are notes of spring and honeysuckle to these carrots, but their mouthfeel underwhelms."

There, I just made my baby sound like the one in Family Guy; oops.

As for peas, Grace had a reaction (er, rash) develop the day we introduced peas, but she was simultaneously on penicillin at the same time, so we're holding both P's right now until the rash passes (she's on zythromax, and in case you're holding your breath, yes, it's for her first ear infection, and no, she's not contagious! Contagiously cute, perhaps, but it stops there. :)

On to more serious blogging... some other day!

Reclaim the night...

So we're on the eve of what my dear and eponymous friend dubbed "reclaiming the night." G is waking up too much and night, and I am too sleepy and cranky during the day.

So we're going to do it; we're going to give G the independence she will some day crave from us.

I'm only writing this in my blog as a sort of contract with myself so that tomorrow we will have to see it through.

I know I owe it to the world, G, and yes, me to get us all to get more sleep; I'd do it tonight but M is away on business and this is not a battle I want to fight alone! I need my co-parent by my side, to listen to the howls and stick it out.

Stay tuned...

The pink baron

So we've busted out the jog stroller, and I have to say it's awesome! I think it's the most comfortable of our strollers, certainly the biggest too, but I dare say I think G likes the world at higher speeds. I mean I would like to see the world that way; wouldn't you? Anyone up for inventing an adult-size jog stroller?
Spring is coming to DC; we had a minor setback this morning (a dusting of snow on the cars), but the buds are appearing, the birds are singing, and I am overheating in my down coat. Spring = lots of outside time + daylight savings + G in cute dresses + cherry blossoms + planting flowers.
Maybe there is something to this "seasons" thing after all...

An update; we’re still here!

OK: so I’ve been back to work for over 6 weeks now, and I have to admit, it’s gotten better. So much has changed! It’s still a little sad to leave G, but more manageable; now the challenge is juggling it all, which is hard, but at least I’m through the emotional turmoil phase... it’s pretty notable, though, that it’s been way over a month since I’ve posted, and I’m posting on a Friday night at 11pm! So things have been hectic but I’m trying to crawling back to my blog. Without wanting to belabor the last month or give any mundane play by play, I will just say that G and I have survived the following (in no particular order of difficulty/ mastery):

1. 2 cross-country flights, one to FL and one to CA, with one red-eye thrown in
2. Daddy in Florida for all of February, minus weekends!
3. G’s first cold, accompanied by our first experiences with being sick as parents
4. A two-day power outage

Let’s leave it that... but needless to say lots of everyday challenges, too.

But it would be remiss to not mention, here, all of the milestones we’ve embraced, too!

1. G squawks like a parrot, coos like a dove, grunts like an old man, and smiles like an angel.
2. She can spin toys on her bouncer, grab my necklace with enough force to leave marks, karate kick me in the stomach, lift her head up during tummy time, and sit up unassisted for a lil bit.
3. G loves reading books; gets excited with each page turn and impatiently grunts if you don’t turn the pages fast enough.
4. G flirts with everybody; her little boyfriends at daycare, her pediatrician, and her daddy.

So it’s been a ride, but a great one!! I’m glad I hung in there at work. It’s hard but worth it.

PS: This picture was taken by my dear friend Gigi McGill, a blossoming photography who takes a mean baby photo.

Back to Work

I promised myself I wouldn’t start writing this entry until more time had passed, preferably another week or more, but I then realized that part of the purpose of having this blog is to document moments as they come, rather than in hindsight. To be really accurate, I should have started writing this last Tuesday or Wednesday, but I was not in a state to write. And if I had been, this entry might have been entitled “I can’t do my job anymore.”

So in all honesty, I underestimated how hard it would be to go back to work. I sort of hung my hat on the news that for many moms, the anticipation anxiety is worse than the actual return, and therefore, I would be fine, since I was decently nervous. In some ways, I suppose that was okay, because I really did enjoy the last few days of my maternity leave, without too much angst. Tuesday morning finally arrived, and things started out smoothly enough, me with my multiple bags packed, showered, dressed, and fed before I woke up G. But then.... I woke her up, nursed her and got her dressed, and as we were playing on her activity mat the reality started to rumble its way through me. G doesn’t know that maternity leave is over, that she’s starting school. She’s happily playing with mommy, but in 15 minutes I have to put her in her car seat, drop her off with at a safe but new place with well-meaning but new people. And the tears came, and basically didn’t stop for three days.

So everything I’ve been experiencing is undoubtedly shared by the millions of working moms out there, but oh my gosh this is powerful stuff. The three months we had together, apart for maybe as much as 2 hours, and only a handful of times, was now over. And it flew by! Before that, we were literally symbiotically attached, for 38 weeks. So being away for her, for eight hours a day, 4-5 days of week seems powerfully unfair and cruel. Everything I had said to myself, about how I had worked so hard, and how much I loved my job, and how good daycare would be for her (the stimulation, the socialization), seemed like little lies I had told myself to justify the position I now found myself in. It doesn’t help that she hates being strapped into her car seat, or that it’s winter, either.

So that’s where I was at for most of the week; I seemed to be okay at work (after I wiped my eyes dry from the daycare dropoff) to about 1/1:30 in the afternoon... so, if I were working part time, I would be golden. Except I don’t have the kind of career track that can really go part time. What’s interesting, though, is that Friday I worked at home, with a great sitter we hired to ease my transition back, and I had a fabulous and productive day. I worked downstairs in our basement office, able to focus on my job without the separation anxiety or distractions of meetings or working in a shared office that had plagued me the three days prior.

So I’m faced with a series of choices, with choices embedded within those choices. Given the demands of my job and my position as a trainee, I need to be strategic and careful about what I request, but I also need to be assertive about possible changes that could help enable to me as an individual to do my job, and do it well. I have decided that I should make no final decisions based on my first week back to work, but that I should keep note of small things which will help M, G, and I survive and thrive. Setting the coffee pot the night before, cooking for leftovers on the weekend, and ordering off of Amazon Prime are some of those things, but so too may be asking for another work at home day. The latter will only be possible, however, if we can get more sitter coverage and bargain with daycare to charge us part time rates.

In the mean time, I offer my respect, solace, and gratitude to all working moms out there. I offer you a warm hug, a shoulder rub, whole-hearted reassurance that you’re doing the right thing, but most of all, if I could, I’d offer you minutes upon minutes, as I now understand how precious each one is with your beautiful, beautiful children.

Thank you thank you, fellow madres...

not only for the many gifts you have bestowed upon me, but also for the pearls of wisdom. This entry is dedicated to you. It is a non-exhaustive list of all the tips I have collected in these past three months (plus). Credit is given where credit was due, and remembered when and where possible! If I forgot to cite someone, mea culpa, but let me know! I will revise, and will add to this list as I discover more!

1. Nursing: First few weeks? Get the gel pads for your nipples, put them in the fridge, and stick those babies on between each feed [Gigi, Troas]. Soak your girls in some saltwater in the shower to speed healing inevitable cuts (I used two bowls) [Joanna]. While on this topic, dermaplast numbing spray for down there is awesome [Gigi], as are iced pads (or the kind where you break the cold capsule inside and they get nice and cool!).

A revision to the safety pin on the bra-strap to remember which side you nursed (or started nursing, for the ambi-nurser): even better - hair rubberband around the wrist [Jan]. Who trusts themselves with a sharp object near their boob or baby, anyway!? Another alternative for those of us like me who use said rubberband to tie hair back in between feedings, and therefore forget which side to start nursing? Feel both boobs from the top - the harder one goes next (pinching from the bottom way less informative) [Su]. Udder covers do a lot of promotional deals on nursing covers; I’ve gotten 2 now for five bucks each, and they’re nice because they have a rod you bend so you can see your babies cute little munchy face [Kara].

2. Pumping: get thee a hands-free zip up pump bra [Jen]!! Put the funnel parts in whole cut outs before zipping up, then attached bottle parts [Shayna]. If you’re serious about pumping, and you own a car, get a car adaptor because chances are you will end up pumping in your car at some point [Troas]. You can use your hooter hider for this as well.

3. Bathtime: Feel the water with your elbow [Joanna]; it’s far more sensitive than your fingers for figuring out if the water’s too hot (though the wrist is best for milk). Cradle cap? Drench your baby’s head in olive oil, let it sit for a few minutes (if you can, I never do!), scrub with a baby brush, then wash away with baby shampoo [Gigi, and our pediatrician]. The puj tub, a foamie mat that folds up like origami with magnets is a great alterntative to hard plastic tubs for newborns [Kate, via Gigi].

4. Soothing: bounce sad baby on a pilates ball [Carrie, Gigi], and by all means follow Dr. Karp like he is the pied piper (Happiest Baby on the Block). Unfortunately, there will be times when even Dr. Karp’s methods will only work for about 5 minutes; then consider mylicon [Gigi], give baby a bath [Su], walk around the house or do stairs holding baby [Su], hand baby to daddy, or just wait it out. Borrow, rather than buy, when possible, a swing, because some babies hate them or only like them for a short while. Pacis are a wonderful tool, and there’s a brand called “gumdrop” that you can get online that look and feel just like Soothies but have a mouth part that conforms to the shape of baby’s mouth, making them easier to stay in and less likely to roll away to some dusty dark corner [Shannon].

5. Clothes: zip up jammies, while less likely to be received (probably because snap-ups tend to be cuter), are available at both Target [Erika] and Children’s Place [Shannon] and are way faster and easier to fasten in the middle of the night!

6. The “Y” (you!) of the baby whisperer’s EASY routine? In the beginning, get a post-partum doula (call her an consultant if you can’t stomach the d word - actually, you’ll end up calling her “our angel”!) [Michael, Joanne] unless you have absolutely amazing help in the form of grandmothers, aunts, etc... it really does take a village. Later on, phone a friend - a good friend, or cousin (thank you again, Shannon!) with recent mama bear experience to come over and really, really help. Prepare yourself to pay that kind of help forward. Say yes to every offer of baby sitting, house cleaning, and casserole that is offered.

7. Diapering: the newborn Pampers Swaddlers has a blue line to indicate wetness, which is helpful when you're becoming acquainted with baby pee [Karen, Carrie]. The diaper genie, in my opinion, works well if you remember to wrap up the diaper on itself when possible to keep diaper contents from touching the outsides of the genie. Boudreaux’s rash protector spray is an excellent every-day diaper area protector, and it rocks because it’s a spray and it smells nice [Su].

8. Things to put your baby in: the more options the better (boppy, bouncy chair, swing, baby rocker, exersaucer when the time comes), which is why it is great to receive these things as gifts or hand-me-downs. If you live, like we do, in a multi-level house, it is a pain to have to haul things-to-put-your-baby in room to room, so having one option per room or at least per floor is key. Mobiles are not to be overlooked either, and can be a great way to keep munchkin entertained in the tween weeks (intellectually craving stimulation but without the hand coordination to self-entertain) while you fold laundry or eat foods that require two hands [me, through trial and error!].

9. Flying with baby: First of all, it can be done, and it's great to go places with baby! With two adults, almost easy. We found it easy to gate-check the car seat and cheap snap n' go-type stroller, which was really made for airport travel [Gigi]. Security? Key is to not stress, get there early, and I think do the following order on the belt: shoes (slip on if possible), liquids in ziploc, diaper bag, stroller, then car seat (after taking out baby first!!), so that you have hands-free as long as possible. Nursing or feeding during takeoff and landing to help with ear-clearing is a good idea [Carrie, Gigi, Mara, Joanne, Mer]. Multiple people suggested bringing a change of clothes for you as well as baby for inevitable blow-outs, because who wants to be stuck on a plane covered in poo? Your neighbors won't want that either...

List in progress, will update I remember more!

Thank you, thank you, fellow madres.