Happy Smallidays!

I have a tiny human sleeping in a sling on my chest. She’s all curled up right now, not stretchted out to her 2 feet of length, which she often likes to do these days. She’s a snuggly little cuddle-worm; yes, I’m now blogging in babytalk. Can’t help myself.

So if you’re going to be snowed in, do it with a newborn! They keep you busy, require work, and provide many many rewards. If you don’t own one, rent one (i.e. babysit!). The many noises and facial expressions each one comes with will make you forget the sound of your smartphone, pager, crackberry, and/or inner voices.

Christmas was spent with our new little family, and yes, this was taken with a self-timer and a tripod (and required several takes - and we're still missing half of Mike's face!). We awoke to few snow flurries, and I made breakfast: mimosas, povatetsa (amazing Polish pastry bread sent from Mike’s parents every year), and my specialty, candied bacon. We opened presents and Skyped with both families. Mike chipped in for lunch, initiating his new tradition of making something new every year, which in this case was roasted tomato goat cheese open-faced sandwiches. We took a relaxing walk round the frozen pond, and then topped the evening off with some honey-baked ham, roasted tomato soup, arugala salad, and fresh-baked chocolate chip roasted walnut cookies, first playing Heavy Rain (Mike’s xbox 360 Christmas gift to himself), and watching Christmas vacation.

So we missed our families, but we really had the best Christmas ever! Babies make good presents....

Hope everyone had a falalalala good time this year!

My baby daddy came home!

That was, essentially, my facebook status update today. How ridiculous, right? But yes, it's true, M came home today and yin and yang are back in balance. What's even more wonderful, is that I managed to take a 90 minute nap! The exhaustion struck hard when M came through the front door, and so I napped, and napped, and napped some more! I then had what I call a nap hangover (which is why I don't normally nap), but I took a walk around our freezing cold pond and woke up again. Then, and this is the best part, I went to a yoga class... by myself! Best class I ever took, too; I just relished every muscle burn and difficult pose. It was such a treat.

So of course having a baby changes everything... that's complete common knowledge. But what I didn't expect was that having a baby actually changes you, as in your essence: your thoughts, your feelings, your goals, your interests... and to take the easy road, I'll just take on that last bit. It changes how you want to spend your time, who with, the places you go, even the food you eat. If there was any indecision before, it's gone, replaced with a strong sense of intention and an enhanced ability to be efficient. Intention- if I don't go to that party, I won't feel the least bit guilty. Efficiency - I can now cook, eat, clean, and practically tame lions one-handed. Baby-unfriendly places don't even sound good to me; if it's intellectually stimulating, fun in an adult way, or later than 9pm and won't accomodate my stroller, provide me with a changing table, or an easy way to nurse or bottle-feed my baby, forget about it. I don't pine for my pre-baby life either (like I thought I might); I just think, what a nice, fun, and happy-go-lucky time that was! Not a care in the world...

Anyone (perhaps childless but not necesssarily) who reads this and worries that I've warped into one of those parents everyone always fears about, hold your concerns. What I'm really getting at is that I am content; I always knew that I'd love my baby more than anything and love being a mom, but what I didn't know was that I wouldn't pine for the past. Maybe some day I will, but right now I'm satisfied with what I managed to experience before G, and now I'm even more excited to see what little G will experience, whether it be laughing for the first time, sitting up, or gaining head control!

One down, four to go...

So I'm sitting this on night two (out of five) of single parenting. Let me set the scene for you... it's 8:40pm, I'm in baby base camp (what I now call our two living room couches, as they are cluttered with baby gear (hats,blankets, baby books, pacies, and burp cloths), and half-finished projects (my half-finished Christmas cards, a half eaten salad, a half a glass of wine, "half" of my camera - I'm attempting to finally charge it and download pics, a half pint of blueberries from day time snack, half-wrapped Christmas presents, and a half-written paper. Maybe I should have entitled this blog "halvies." All I know it is a good day if I finished half of what I set out to do: half of dinner, half of the laundry, even half a shower!

But we're doing well, we're rockin out. Girlfriend is upstairs slowly falling asleep, eyes half mast, and I'm trying not to stalk her (too much) on the video monitor. Wow what an invention! It was expensive, and it's a little much, but oh the peace of mind it offers! I like how it has a sound bar; so if you don't have the sound on, it gives you a visual warning of your baby crying - literally turns red like "DANGER DANGER!" So yes, my eight-week old is on video surveillance.

So we're trucking away at it, growing older, that is, while Daddy is at a conference in NYC. We miss him, he misses us, but we're getting along. I am tired though! Like a bone tired that I suspect only new moms and maybe first-year residents experience... like even if I got 8 hours of straight sleep (would be amazing!) it would take a number of those before I could fully recover from the sleep deprivation I now feel. It's like burned into my forehead, eyes, neck and shoulders.

So I guess I should sign off and go to bed!

Lessons from a Five-Weeker

So perhaps you’ve come across several of these witty, knowing essays or comfort books that view parenthood from hindsight, that remind us all of older adults who with a wink and a nod speak volumes of having been there and done that with a newborn, toddler, and teenager. But now, it’s my turn. These are the most recent things I’ve learned from G:

1. At 3am, the standard footie pajama snaps will have me more perplexed than solving calculus problems.

2. There is a certain natural law to pooping, much like gravity: if I haven’t seen a poop in about 3 diapers, I’m in for a showdown involving at least 3 fresh diapers and 2 changing pads.

3. The dynamics of a five-week old’s facial expression rivals any academy-award winning performance.

4. My five-weeker has made my husband and I closer, on many levels, but partially because we are now battling a force to be reckoned with... in contemplating our next move, I find myself looking at him only to see the same bewildered expression on his face. Plan schman.

5. Five weekers don’t come with a manual, yet I seem to be poring over every baby book we have trying to solve our feed-to-feed mysteries.

6. The grunts, sighs, and gurgles that come out of my five-week olds asleep or awake little body are the coolest sounds I have ever heard.

Okay that’s six, so one for each week and and one to grow on!

My Tiny Human

Motherhood is kicking my ass. There; I said it. I’m actually typing this when I should be in bed, between my new baby and my concerned husband - he’s genuinely and rightly worried about the impact prolonged bouts of broken sleep might have on his already slightly manic wife. But I need to get these words out before I forget them again; I now inhabit one of two spaces; the stupor of the sleep-deprived, or the acumen of the adrenaline-pumped newly parented. In the former, I can barely remember my name; in the latter, I could’ve written my dissertation in a week.

In this rare moment of lucidity, however, I raced downstairs to type some thoughts into my blog... only to be interrupted by my tiny human (soonafter said tiny human vomited all over herself, me, and our brest friend). So I am now finishing this day after, and I can’t remember what I was going to say.

One thing I will say, though, is I think my baby sometimes switches places with another baby... one who likes to trick me into thinking she wants to eat when really she wants to sleep, or has me go through 3 diapers in a single change... but both babies are so cute I don’t mind guessing!

Which baby are you going to be today, Gracie?

The Road to Continence

WARNING: This post is rated “C” for candid...

So people often think about continence, or more likely, incontinence, as referring to one type of bodily fluid, but after having a baby, I assure you that there is more than one kind. I can count four, no five, if you count night sweats, types of incontinence that accompany the postnatal period. My goal here is not to disgust, but rather to educate... or at least come clean.

Let’s start with the most obvious: tears. Wow has new mama cried. And it takes so little; really no external stimulus required. Maybe it’s nature’s way of helping you to empathize with your new baby, who also has incontinence of the eyes. All I know is that SPCA commercials, music with any sort of meaningful lyric, and anything but the happiest of tones of voice should be kept out of the vicinity of new mamas. Although it won’t matter, they’ll cry anyway.

Dairy cow. That needs to be milked, particularly first thing in the morning, or else the second kind of incontinence.

The night sweats thing might have somewhat to do with the space heater now occupying our room, but it’s also hormones, I’m sure.

The remaining two I’m not going to divulge much information about here, because they’re rather private, but let me just say they are reasons number two and three of why a private room after birth is a must (followed only by the importance of the precious couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep needed for survival). There’s a lot of trauma that happens downstairs, and for a while baby won’t be the only one wearing diapers. And I’m not talking about poo.

At day 21 of Grace’s sweet little life, I’d say I’m about 80% continent. I’m on my way back!

Plumpkins

About a week or so before I gave birth, my cousin Jenny called me with a request. In her usual fashion she asked me to agree to said request before stating it, and in my usual fashion I told her I had my fingers crossed, but yes, let’s hear it.

“I want you to paint your pregnant belly orange, like a pumpkin, and with a jack’o’lantern face, and take pictures of it” (this she gets out between deep inhales, the kind that accompany whole body laughs).

In my 9-months-and-counting tired pregnant state, I say “sure, why not, but I don’t have any orange paint... tell you what, I’ll let the committee think it over.”

Within 24 hours I start getting the following correspondence:

Letter 1:
Dear Soon-to-be Mama Kent,

As co-committee chairman from the Ohio sector, I am for the proposal to paint your belly as a jack-o-lantern. I want you to know that you don't have to present a formal proposal to me as I understand that time is of the essence. I too was proposed when I was pregnant to dance a lot and I did with a half smile on my face :) Now, I'm asking you to do the same. I vote yes for Operation Baby Kent Costume. This will be a great photo-op for Spot and his new baby sister.

Best Regards,

Shannon Beckwith
Co-committee Member Representative
Columbus, Ohio

Letter 2:
Dear Drs. Kent,

As committee chairman from the California sector, I am for the proposal to paint your baby as a jack-o-lantern. I want you to know that you don't have to present a formal proposal to me as I understand that time is of the essence. I'm already on board. I vote yes for Operation Baby Kent Costume. This will be a great photo-op for Spot and his new baby sister.

Best Regards,

Erica Bardin
Committee Member Representative
Santa Monica, CA

Letter 3:
Dear Drs. Kent,

As committee chairman from the Ohio sector, I am for the proposal to paint your baby as a jack-o-lantern. I want you to know that you don't have to present a formal proposal to me as I understand that time is of the essence. I'm already on board. I vote yes for Operation Baby Kent Costume. This will be a great photo-op for Spot and his new baby sister.

Best Regards,

Beverly J Logan
Committee Member Representative
Canfield, Ohio

And I would have done it; I swear! Gracie had other ideas, however, about starting her industry career as a festively painted fetal gourd. Luckily, Uncle Spot came to the rescue and agreed to take on the starring role as Plumpkin.