“the child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn’t been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him” – pablo casals
Portraits of my children
“Nothing you become will disappoint me; I have no preconception that I’d like to see you be or do. I have no desire to forsee you, only to discover you. You can’t disappoint me” -Mary Haskell
Then & Now
I’d say it’s amazing how fast a year goes, but that’s so cliche. Instead, I will say that with my first-born, every day felt like a marathon. I felt like that newborn phase was going to last for the rest of my life. When I had my second, my perspective was much better. I knew it’d be a hard year and then it’d get easier.
Before I had kids, I couldn’t think more than a week ahead. I lived life day by day and rarely planned for anything and had a hard time committing to something unless it was going to happen the next day.
The days are long but the years are short, or so they say.
One year ago today I was sitting in the very same room as I type right now, in a birthing tub. This picture is obviously poor quality but it tells a story. The beginning of the story, anyway. A paper bag with a plastic bag in case I got nauseous (I didn’t), the sliver of the elbow of my midwife watching over me just barely making it in the right part of the frame, the birthing supplies in a trash bag on top of the pin ball machine that sat there un-used and taunting me for weeks (I was two weeks late), and Willy looking halfway helpful and halfway helpless.
I say it only tells the beginning of the story because we don’t have photos of the EMT’s who eventually came and had to transfer me butt-booty-naked in an ambulance to the hospital. We had our birthing plan all mapped out and, ultimately, we had to go with plan B.
Life doesn’t always go the way you plan it, does it?
And within ten minutes of being at the hospital, with one nurse pumping up and down on my stomach as if my heart were in my abdomen and I was in full cardiac arrest (clarification: I was not in cardiac arrest) and with some doc I had never met pulling and twisting, Van was born. All nine and half pounds of him.
On the days I work, I pump in a lactation room on the postpartum unit. I watched the other day as a newborn was wheeled past me and as I sat down to pump milk for Van, I thought how crazy it is that that little glow worm will be crawling and communicating and socializing in, what feels like, a blink of an eye.
Right now, Van is napping. I breastfed him while he held on to his blanket, his latest obsession, and laid him down in his crib. He quickly rolled over, hugging his blanket to his chest and sticking his little bum high up into the air.
One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. Fifty two weeks.
The days are long but the years are short; It’s true.
You can read Van’s entire birth story here.
29/52
A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.
I typically hate taking photos in our neighborhood. It’s so suburban and it rarely speaks to me in that inspiring take-your-camera-with-you way. But there’s something about this photo that I love and feel like I will love even more later… when, years from now, we’ll be flipping scrolling through old memories and Van will ask questions like “was that our old house?” and a jar full of memories will come spilling out… about how we put our blood sweat and tears into that home. See, it’s not the story that this image tells now, per say, but it’s the story waiting to be told years from now that puts that little lump in my throat.
You can check out other posts in the series here.
Brothers
Dear Hooper & Van,
And just like that, you like each other. Well, some of the time at least. Van, whenever you’re napping, Hooper wants to see you. Like really wants to see you; as in he pulls at my leg and tugs at my arm until I get up off my butt and walk toward your door. Hooper, you’re always disheartened when I tell you Van is sleeping.
That little tidbit is first and foremost.
Hooper, you’re learning to share you toys and your space. Not that you have much of a choice, as Van is constantly in your space and constantly wanting to do whatever you’re doing. Your answer to this is to move him out of the way. I’ve caught you trying to drag him from underneath his armpits until he’s out of your path. You need to eat some more protein, however, because more times than not you are not able to move him and you’re left having to ask for help cuz’ he’s “heav-vee” (heavy).
Loving how you love each other… at the moment, anyway.
Mama
Family
Spring/Summer 2013 from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.
A true family photo, Sarah included. And a video from
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our trip to Palm Springs / Arizona a few weeks back.
Mama's Corner
-Jack Kerouac always tickles my soul a way no other can… “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road”. Looking forward to an upcoming road trip with my bestie in August. It’ll be like old times.
-Google searches this week have included the following: how to get your infant to stop biting you while breastfeeding and how to effectively punish a toddler. And, also, a fun spin on last post’s “why do mom’s” search… top three searches starting with “why do dads”: 1. leave, 2. yell, 3. matter. It’s a sad day when you have to turn to google for reasons to why your father left.
-I’ve jumped on board the smoothie train. Not for myself because, um, gross. But for Hooper. I shopped for a couple recipes here but have been simply blending spinach and berries because he likes it, will actually drink it, and would otherwise never touch spinach even if it were dipped in chocolate.
-A friend of mine has taken on the role of Camp Director for a fantastic camp for a fantastic cause. He has almost reached his goal in raising the money necessary to make it all come to fruition, but needs a little more help. If you have a second, check out this video. And if you feel compelled to donate, good vibes will surely come your way.
-Alix and Dottie, the lovely ladies behind Modern Kiddo, have invited me to join their blog as a contributor. I’m incredibly honored and have been having a blast working on my “Widdle Wednesday” features. You can check out an interview they did with me here and you can check back on the Modern Kiddo blog every Wednesday to see my feature.
-There was a time that Willy and I made a deal. He wanted another dog and I thought he was absolutely insane. Knowing a second dog would take a lot of time and attention, I told him we could get one so long as he stopped playing fantasy sports online. It’s been over a year and we don’t have a second dog, so you can guess how that all panned out. The internet is a funny place and arguably, a big ol’ time suck. We all have our online things we like to do: shopping, sports, news, blogs, recipes, asking google why your father left, the list goes on forever. I found this story fascinating; This guy dedicated himself to one year without internet in hopes it would strengthen his creativity and help him be more productive. What he found with this: the problem was himself. His problems were there with or without the internet, they just manifested in other ways in his offline life. It was an interesting read and the video is well done as well.
-I don’t share much medical or nursing related stuff on here, but I thought this article was an interesting read. It talks about how, in the age of modern medicine, death has become viewed as a medical failure rather than life’s natural conclusion. Food for thought.
-For those with a sick kind of humor, this video will give you a good laugh. I love the little old lady who says, “Oh my gosh” and then instructs him to “hold on to the cart”. She’s my favorite.
-I never did see a better looking nursery than this. And lo and behold it belongs to the son of Max Wagner, a fantastic photographer who continuously inspires me. Makes Van’s nursery look like something that fell out of an elephant’s butt. And of course Morgan, from The Brick House, had a hand in it because she’s one of those everything-I-touch-turns-to-gold kinda of phenoms. I have such a girl crush on her; She’s such a riot. If you haven’t checked out The Brick House, you should. Even if you’re not into interior design, homegirl is sure to have you rolling around in giggles.
-Oh yes, last but not least… I’m taking the plunge. More to come on all the behind-the-scenes blood, sweat, and tears but I’m hoping to start my photography business within the next few months. I’m offering some mini-sessions this weekend for those that are in the southern Cali area. Interested? Shoot me an email: ashleyjennett@gmail.com. Thank you all for your encouragement and support along the way. It’s taken me several years to grow balls big enough to make this dream a reality.
Disneyland.
Before Willy and I had kids, we agreed that we hated Disneyland. Yup, we’re those people. We even went so far as to say that when we did take the plunge with our own kids, we’d pay Mickey Mouse to say mean and hurtful things to them so they never wanted to go back. We were kidding, of course, but that’s our humor, so whatever.
Fast forward, or rewind (depending on how you look at it) to last week when my sister asked if we wanted to go. Her finace had never been despite the fact they live practically walking distance. We also have a relative of a close friend that works there, so we get in for a mere fraction of the price. So, we decided we’d take the plunge.
We spent the night at my sister’s the night before because driving down the 405 freeway in the morning is as dumb as going to sit on Santa’s lap the week before Christmas. Only the 405 isn’t seasonal, it’s a zoo every damn day.
We brought Sarah with us too. We bring her lots of places and I wouldn’t normally mention her presence except for the fact that it becomes pertinent to this little story. Wait for it.
My sister has two new kittens. I hate cats. You should know that about me. I’m allergic, so really it’s my allergies that hate cats.
Sarah is going to be four this year. You should know that she spent the first two years on and off antibiotics and in and out of the vet… aspiration pneumonia after being spayed, rattle snake bite, anaphylatic shock after a bee sting, possible tick bite after camping, ear infection after a trip to Arizona that became a hematoma, hives, another rattle snake bite, another bee sting with subsequent anaphylatic shock… you get the idea.
I was feeding Van when I heard a scuffle, a bark, and a hiss. Next thing we know, Sarah came in with blood coming out of her eye. Nothing is ever no-big-deal with Sarah, so of course Willy and I start to worry immediately. The bleeding stops and it’s obvious she has a cut to her third eyelid. If you knew how big the third eyelid was, you’d know that if Sarah didn’t have bad luck, she’d have absolutely no luck at all.
We spent the night tossing and turning, checking on Sarah, listening to Sarah howl in the bathroom, then letting her out only to hear her chasing the cats in the living room (she’s not the brightest), and then moving her to the garage just a few hours before those little munchkins of ours were up and ready to go.
We called Willy’s dad, who’s a bovine vet in AZ, and decided we should take Sarah in to the vet. So much for spending the night to get an early start at Disneyland.
Willy took Sarah in and two hundred dollars and three new medications later (turns out an abrasion she had on her neck was also infected), we finally made it out the door. By the time we paid $16 dollars for parking, got the kids in the stroller, waited for the elevator, waited in line for the tram, broke down the stroller to get on the tram, got through the bag check, and met up with our ticket dealer dude, honestly I felt okay with turning around to go home and calling it a successful day. We had got there, after all.
I’d say we didn’t stay long, but I think the more accurate statement is that we were there for a while but didn’t do much in that time. Waiting to get on to one ride was a feat on it’s own. We went on a total of three rides: autotopia (I thought Hooper would dig driving his own car but in actuality, letting him sit behind the wheel just meant that we had to grin and bear with smacking into the center track over and over again because his steering ability is, well, not developed), Pirates of the Caribbean (Hooper was scared and sat through the whole ride with Willy’s hat covering his face while I breastfed a tired and hungry Van), and Small World (which was actually incredibly refreshing and a nice break from the heat). Then we paid an arm and a leg for a mediocre lunch and left. And that took a total of 4+ hours.
Note to self: Don’t go to Disneyland in the summer. Just don’t. Take my word for it. Save your money.
I suppose it could be a different story when the boys’ are older… when a 45 minute wait in line doesn’t feel like a marathon.
On the brighter side, I love churros.
Have you been? What was your experience like?
And just for good measure, a photo from my first trip to Disneyland (looks like my parents may have utilized the say-mean-and-hurtful-things-to-my-kid technique, cuz’ I’m clearly not feelin’ Donald)… Side note: #CoolHairCuts
Mamas Corner
When I was pregnant, I hated when people told me to make the most of the time I had before the baby got here. Seriously, when people said this, I wanted to punch them in the face. Janet recently sent me this article and I related to it so much. The author, Steve Wiens, feels the same way when people encourage him to enjoy every second with his kids because “time goes too fast”. I think both of us would agree that while both statements are true, the reality is that statements like these don’t help. All I wanted toward the end of my pregnancy was to meet my baby. Advising me to enjoy that time just gave me a challenge I couldn’t win and made me feel like a failure more so than I was already feeling after dealing with a post-due baby that wouldn’t come out. Along the same lines, Wiens writes, “We know it’s true that they grow up too fast. But feeling like I have to enjoy every moment doesn’t feel like a gift, it feels like one more thing that is impossible to do, and right now, that list is way too long. Not every moment is enjoyable as a parent; it wasn’t for you, and it isn’t for me. You just have obviously forgotten. I can forgive you for that. But if you tell me to enjoy every moment one more time, I will need to break up with you.”
Much of what he says is reminiscent of this post, with the take home message as this: you are not a terrible parent if you don’t enjoy your children every second of every day. He writes,
“You are not a terrible parent if you can’t figure out a way for your children to eat as healthy as your friend’s children do. She’s obviously using a bizarre and probably illegal form of hypnotism.
You are not a terrible parent if you yell at your kids sometimes. You have little dictators living in your house. If someone else talked to you like that, they’d be put in prison.
You are not a terrible parent if you can’t figure out how to calmly give them appropriate consequences in real time for every single act of terrorism that they so creatively devise.
You are not a terrible parent if you’d rather be at work.
You are not a terrible parent if you just can’t wait for them to go to bed.
You are not a terrible parent if the sound of their voices sometimes makes you want to drink and never stop.
You’re not a terrible parent.”
It’s an important reminder. Today we are inundated with information on how to parent, strategies to consider, new recalls, and so on and so forth. It’s easy to read a baby blog and feel like your life can’t compare, that you’re not as good as a mother, that your child is not as advanced. I’m with Wiens in that we need to embrace who we are as parents, the good and the bad. It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to let your child watch TV all day so you can have a break. Greasy food won’t kill them once in a while. It’s okay to call your kid an asshole behind their back and mean it. None of this makes us bad parents; it makes us real parents. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, instead of scrutinizing one another we ought to throw one another a bone. Pat one another on the back.
So in an effort to equalize the playing field, I thought I’d share a couple of my own mommy confessions. Here we go: When Van bites my nipple during a feeding, I want to throw him across the room. When we travel with Sarah, I give her Benadryl so she goes to sleep (and I’ll consider doing the same for my children should they become pesky car travelers when they’re older). I let both of my children eat dog food when trying to keep them away from the dog food proved to be too much. I’ve yelled at my kids loud enough for my neighbors to hear. I gave Van strawberries at six months old and they weren’t even organic. Oh ya, and I had
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a beer when I was pregnant. I know, I know… I’m craaaaaazy.
And you know what? I’m a good mom. I’ve never doubted it. Want to judge me? Go for it. I know who I am.
Please, share your confessions as well.
The thing about schedules…
The thing about schedules is that they’re annoying. I grew up considering myself a type B personality but as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned, especially through motherhood, that it pays to have some type A organization. To a degree, at least. All in all, I hate living a day that is a blueprint of the day before. I get that kids benefit from structure and yadda yadda yadda, but I also believe that kids are adaptable and should learn to go with the flow because life isn’t always organized. In actuality, life is rarely organized. Structure bores me.
I spend much of my morning looking at the clock wondering when my break will come and checking my fuel level to be sure I still have enough patience left to get me to that break time safely. Then both kids are asleep (on good days their naps overlap. On bad days, I play whack a mole all day long) and I feel almost paralyzed by not knowing what to do first (dishes, shower, eat, clean, blog, etc). I scatter about and in what feels time no time at all, nap time is over and I have to breastfeed and prepare lunch and by the time all that is done, Willy’s home and it’s time for Van’s second nap, and then there is more breastfeeding and meal preparing and then, just like that, it’s time for bed.
I go to bed with intentions of spending the next day at the park or at the beach or with other mommy friends but, more times than not, we fall back into the aforementioned pattern. Some days it is so hard to break the routine, so hard to actually get out of the house.
Don’t get me wrong, we do get out. We go to the park or the beach or what-have-you, but it comes with a sacrifice of naps and skipped feedings and there’s consequences, of course, that come with those things. It feels like I can’t win.
Do you feel the same way? How do you handle structure in your home?
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Mama's Corner
-Van started pulling to stand a few weeks back. It started in the bath, which is like watching a puppy run on an ice rink.
-Willy and I have started Breaking Bad on Netflix. We’re mid-way through season 2 and we’re addicted.
-I came across this photo series, featured on Apartment Therapy, and love it.
-I sent my first email to my travel to Cuba dealer. It’s illegal to travel to Cuba from the US, but we did manage to find a legal way to go the first time we went. I refer to our helper as our dealer, cuz traveling is like a drug to me. It’s the first email in what I hope will be many.
-Got a free moment? I’d love your vote for The Dairy Queen award. I know, it makes me seem like either a frozen yogurt guru or a cow. I am neither. The lovely mom of Elliot that I donate my extra milk to nominated me for the award.
-When I was a young girl, I wanted so badly to be a mom. Well, really, I just wanted a baby. There was an old man that lived next door to us with his own children and grandchildren. He happened to have twin grandchildren. He’d walk them everyday and when he’d see me playing in the front yard, he’d proposition me in his heavy accent, “dollar for baby?”, and I’d run inside begging my mom for a dollar. I would have not brought this story up except for the fact some lady tried selling her 3 year old on Craigslist. You can read the story here. You have to admire her ingenuity. I mean if you buy can anything from a prostitute to a lamp on Craigslist, why not a baby? Or better yet, a toddler? There’s one way to combat the terrible twos/threes. Craigslist, for the win. And because you can’t win them all, she’s pregnant again.
-Listening to this record by Paul Simon over and over and over again. It’s one of my favorite records. It has some of my most favorite versions of some of my most favorite Paul Simon songs.
-When I googled “Why do moms”, the top three search results today are: 1. kill their children, 2. get postpartum depression, 3. eat the placenta. Yesterday, the top three were 1. yell, 2. do everything, 3. hate video games. It’s my new daily search. Perhaps “sell their children on craigslist” will creep up the ladder soon.
-I know, I know, I’m sharing a lot of trailer renovations. I’ve already alluded to my itchy feet, so what’s new? Check out this renovation. I wish I could smell that cedar through my computer screen. You better believe it made me pop on over to craigslist to find a baby for sale for a little hunt of my own. I may or may not have made a phone call and sent a couple emails.
-I received the sweetest gift in the mail, including a onesie similar to this, a shirt similar to this, and this cutie patootie badge similar to this, from Fritha. You can check out her etsy store here.
-Please welcome my two new sponsors: I’ve worked with Truly Sanctuary in the past and, though I know I shouldn’t be biased, Ron and Beth are two of my favorites. I have a girl crush on Beth. Homegirl is so funny. You must follow along on her instagram feed. I smell a Truly Sanctuary giveaway in the not-so-distant future. Also jumping on board is Melissa from Fawn Over Baby, a beautiful blog for all things baby. I love this nursery that she featured, especially the books in that vintage crate next to that little yellow chair… so cute. She also does fun style boards, like this one for tribal girl finds and this one for the little fellas. Her DIYs are also super sweet. Please help me in showing my sponsors some love. Stop by give em’ a virtual high five.
-Van’s teething. He’s got at least three teeth coming in. It hasn’t affected his sleep at night, but he wakes up crying and has been skipping some naps. Ho hum.
-Oh yes, and lastly, a plea. Votes over on Top Baby Blog have been reset. Care to take a second and click on the link below? I know, I know, broken record over here. Thank you all for your support. Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend.
Hooper & Van
Dear Hooper & Van,
Van, you’re experimenting with new sounds. Oftentimes this means it sounds like there is an Indian in the back of our car. Hooper, you like to copy him by cupping your hand over your mouth and making whatever noise he is making back at him. It’s pretty cute and it’s, truly, the first conversation you two have had.
Hooper, for the most part you’re pretty good at sharing (and by pretty good, I mean that you’re pretty good on your terms. If I ask you to share, you’re not so good). The other day we were at the beach and Van started playing with one of the buckets you were not using. You came over, took the bucket from Van, and moved it about 6 feet away from him. Then you went back to playing with the bucket you were using beforehand.
Van, you long to be a part of Hooper’s world. Hooper, you had the portable vacuum and were pretending to clean up. Van followed you all. over. the. house. while you “cleaned up”. It’s amazing how much interaction can take place in the absence of conversation.
Love,
Mama
Have a funny sibling story? Do share.
Mamas Corner
Wearing: vintage dress from one of my girl crushes Lyndzee who opened up an instagram shop, @thriftarchaeology, to sell some of her vintage finds. I never argue with a breastfeeding friendly dress. It’s super comfy too. She updates her shop often, so be sure to follow along. I’m in love with my new-to-be woven purse, a recent thrift find.
Speaking of woven purses, I’m in love with this one, this one, and this one.
Joy, photographer and mama to four beautiful children, will be hitting the road with her family soon. Their trailer is all kinds of crazy cool. They’re having an estate sale to sell many of their belongings and she just so happens to live a hop skip and jump away so you better believe I’ll be attending.
Realized that when anyone asks, “Where did Van go”, he will be associated with Vincent Van Gogh. Hash tag: the things you don’t think of when you name your kid.
I replied to most of the comments on the Preschool Debate post. Thank you to all who shared their opinions. I think we’ll wait until at least 3 to start Hoop in preschool.
Family time: Willy took three days off of work to spend with us and it was heavenly. We went to the zoo the first day, the science center to see the Endeavour the next day, and then to the beach on the last day. I’ll post pics soon.
Love this quote: Surround yourself with the dreamers and the doers, the believers and the thinkers, but most of all, surround yourself with those who see greatness within you, even when you don’t see it yourself.
I got in the car to go to work the other day and as soon as I put the keys in the ignition, my hazard lights started blinking. I turned them off only to find that my left turn signal was on. Then I realized it sounded like I was in a wind tunnel; my air was on full blast. It’s the little things my little munchkins do that I find at a later time, when they aren’t present, that makes me miss them so. I wanted to run back in the house and squeeze the butt of that little sleeping toddler until it bordered on abuse. But off to work I went.
This video has me thinking two things: 1. This mom is all kinds of the mom I want to be and 2. I can’t wait to take my kids to the dentist.
Have you heard of Spilled Milk? It’s a photography blog that features 18 different photographers. Each week they follow a new theme. It’s absolutely lovely and features one of my favorites, Oana Befort. I’m still following along with the You Are My Wild project which, in my opinion, knocked it out of the park last week.
Listening to Bon Iver. So, so beautiful.
The Terrible Twos
My son is bipolar. Not literally but more in the sense that all toddlers are bipolar. He’ll raise his hand to hit me one minute and the next minute he’ll stroke my arm as if to say, “I love you, mom”. He’s experimenting, I get it.
One of the most important things in caring for a toddler, I’ve learned, has been to care for myself. The more rested and hydrated and fed and groomed I am, the more patience I have. On the days I don’t have time to shower or even change out of my pajamas, where I’m exhausted from Van waking me in the middle of the night (a rare occurrence as of late, thank goodness), and where feeding myself becomes tertiary to feeding the two little birds waiting for me to drop a worm into their mouths, I’m not as good of a mom as I know I can be. I’m sure every mom would agree with this. It goes without saying that the more rested and more prepared we are, the better we are at, well, everything.
Back to Hooper being bipolar. This kid flips between hitting and kissing like a ping pong ball in play on a Japanese table tennis court. The other day he raised his hand toward my head to stroke my hair and I scared him when I flinched, expecting to be smacked. Instead, I got a slobbery hand caressing my newly washed hair. It’s inconsistent, to say the least, but it’s nice to say that I’m not always the victim of abuse.
We’re working hard this week on positive reinforcement and rewarding “normal” behavior.
What’s working with your toddler this week?
Eye On the Prize
I couldn’t wait for Hooper to crawl. We’d do little exercises to help him gain strength and put things in front of him to try to build his desire. Crawling is nothing but something to brag about for a first time mom. You have all the time in the world to dote on them and follow them around to make sure they aren’t getting into something they shouldn’t be. Go figure why first borns are typically the overachievers and pleasers.
With Van, I gave thanks for everyday he stayed put on his bottom. When he started to show desire, I’d put him on his back and hand him a toy. Crawling, for a second time mom, is a nuisance.
Here’s a recap of the past few days in the life of Van:
-He broke our full length mirror and cut his finger in the process. I bought a new one the same day (because, hello, a full length mirror can be life altering) and he almost broke it again the next day. The definition of an idiot, by the way, is someone who does the same thing more than once but expects a different outcome. And with that said, my chin has dropped down to my chest.
-He put a pebble of dog food in his mouth that I had to fish out and then he threw a fit about it (And let me just say, I’m glad Sarah isn’t old and crotchety yet because she’s gotten an excessive amount of abuse from this newly mobile creature).
-He got a hold of a glass jar of food and mimicked his brother who “accidentally” dropped one on the floor. Glass everywhere, again.
-He pulled the potted plant down on the floor and then tried to eat the dirt that spilled everywhere. This happened while I was washing the dishes, during which time I had relocated him four times away from the plants only to discover he was, in fact, more determined than me because somewhere between washing, drying, and putting away he used his new found super-speed to get there faster than me. Reminds me of this oldie but goodie post of when Hooper started getting into shit.
-He discovered the trashcan in the bathroom has a flip top and that he likes it and everything inside it.
I knew crawling would mean more work for me, hence my dedication to prolonging it. Boy does my back hurt. On the flip side, it is awfully cute to watch him scoot around. He’s adopted his own scoot, where his right leg stays tucked in (like in the butterfly position – see pic above) and he pushes with his left leg. He’s able to entertain himself for longer and he’s also napping longer now that he’s exerting more energy. Oh ya, and he’s pretty happy with himself too. So, as is with everything in motherhood, there’s good with the bad.
Mama's Corner
Wearing: I love this dress from TopShop. It’s so airy and comfortable. I won’t mention the fact that a button popped off as soon as I swung Van onto my hip. Luckily they provide you with two extras. I’m more careful now. I paired it with a basic black tank and some comfy wedges I had thrifted a while back. I can’t tell if it’s the outfit or the fact that there’s a baby in my arms, but something about it is screaming “Mom Alert” at me. Please tell me I’m wrong? In any case, I really like this dress. I take comfort over anything and it certainly checks that box.
Debating: I’ve been sitting on the idea of writing a postpartum body image post. For the first time ever, I’m a little nervous about how it would be perceived. I usually don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks, but I remember Melissa receiving some backlash for complaining about losing too much weight while breastfeeding and I think it made me a little self-conscious. In any event, I’ll say this: I’m not comfortable in my own skin and I think – no matter what our complaints are – most moms can relate.
Loving: I’ve checked out a lot of the other bloggers participating in Jodi’s 365 Photo Project, but none steals my heart quite like Lamb Loves Fox. She’s doing a 365 day project, photographing her little lamb everyday. She’s due any day now with a little fox to add to the mix. Check it out and keep her in your thoughts, I think Mr.Fox is coming today.
Starting Anew: Did you follow Frecklewonder? She abandoned ship and jumped to sail along the etsy stream of life. You can find her new shop here. It does not disappoint. I definitely have my eye out for some pennants like these for when I re-do the boys room sometime down the line.
Listening: My love for Spanish music most certainly comes from my days spent traveling. It’s crazy how music can transport your spirit. To go back to places like the Dominican Republic, all I need to do is throw on some Bachata and close my eyes. In any event, I love how this band mixes in Mariachi. Brilliant. Hooper and I have dance parties while this track spins over and over again. You should too.
Wanting: Shopping for myself has become so secondary to shopping for my members. I splurged just the other night and went online shopping (I know, dangerous) and didn’t even buy anything for myself. I passed on this incredibly awesome sweater for Hooper (and later Van) because I couldn’t justify buying a sweater when it’s not sweater weather and is only going to get hotter. I’m already having remorse about it but I’m under strict orders not to buy them any more clothes. Willy even put thrifted clothes on the back burner. I know, what an asshole. I came across this little dress too and contemplated, for a second, what it would be like if Hooper and Van had a sister. Online shopping, I hate you.
Wondering: I can’t seem to figure out why parents brag about potty training. Diapers are clearly where it’s at. We’ve had some regression with the potty training following a trip to Arizona, another to Palm Springs, and the whole rotavirus stint. With that said, Hooper peed in his pants twice and then again on the drivers seat in Willy’s car over the weekend. I kinda miss diapers. But, alas, I have a few days off and I’m rededicating myself.
Hope everyone had a lovely Easter.
Hooper & Van
Dear Hooper & Van,
We’ve been working on sharing and this last week I think you’ve finally grasped the concept. You started by sharing germs and both battled a husky cough, fever, and a runny nose that reassembled a leaking faucet. It landed you both in the doctor’s office: Hooper first and Van two days later.
It started with germs, but the sharing has reached the voluntary realm as well. Yesterday, I sat you down, Van, on the floor next to me. I put a modest pile of toys in front of you and got up to use the bathroom. When I came back, Hooper had nearly buried you in puzzles and coloring books and cars. Hooper, you proudly replied, “sharing”, and proceeded to gently rub your brother’s fuzzy head. That’s your new thing, by the way: Rubbing Van’s fuzz head.
So it’s not all ominous. Your budding relationship is looking upward. My black and white vertically striped top and whistle hangs neatly in the closet. Lets leave it there for a bit.
Love,
Mama
I've Fallen in ♥
When you become a mom for the first time, it doesn’t seem like any love could ever match it. I worried what it would be like to love another when I was pregnant with Van. I worried about how it would affect Hooper and I anticipated losing the undivided attention I was always able to give him. I figured all this would go away when Van was born, but it didn’t; not entirely, anyway.
I spoke briefly on how loving a second has been different than loving a first (You can read that post here). It’s not more or less, just different. I’ve been waiting for Van to blossom ever since he was born. Maybe I’m alone on this one, but newborns aren’t really my thing. I enjoy ooing and ahhing when meeting other’s newborns, but when it comes to my own, I kinda want to press the fast forward button… and then, in what feels like overnight, the pause button.
Van is seven months old now and, for the first time, I can claim him as a human. He has spunk. He has preferences. He has, dare I say, a routine.
But these days, it’s not about the toys or the solids or the bouncer… no soiree… it’s all. about. mama.
This kid loves me. He really loves me (Said with tears streaming down my face as I take a bow).
The other morning I walked in on Hooper asking Willy to hold him. It doesn’t happen often enough that he lets us hold his little body next to ours, so we both relish in these opportunities. Willy had that look on his face as if to say “ne-ner, ne-ner, ne-ner”. I came over and reached my arms out to Hooper, thinking surely he’d chose me, and he retracted his body back toward his Papa. Then he swiped his hand across my face and the moment was lost when Willy had to take him to time out for hitting me.
So while I can’t say I’m a huge fan, per say, of the newborn phase, what I can say is that -at six months- things started looking up. Willy can relish the moments that Hooper chooses only him, because this little boy Van only has eyes for his mama.
Hey Willy, score is tied sucker.
Side note: The Comfy Rumps giveaway ends today. I’ll announce the winner on Friday.
Mama's Corner
Wearing: This sweater from Target, gray skinnies, these sandals.
Swooning: See that little wave in the pic above on the right? Melts my heart.
Getting out: Some times one day starts to feel just like the day before. Willy was in Huntington Beach for work so the munchkins and I decided to drive out and meet him for dinner. We drove around Newport Beach and dreamed about living in homes we can’t afford. It took well over an hour to get down there in traffic, but with the kiddos secure in their kiddo seats and with some tunes I had prepared beforehand, it was actually a nice break; even if it meant starring at the brake lights in front of me.
Cleaning: Has the Spring cleaning bug hit you yet? I emptied out our entire refrigerator and scrubbed that sucker clean. It feels so good.
Searching: I would love to invite this Andy Warhol print into my home but can’t seem to find it anywhere. I have a feeling it’s pretty pricey anyway.
Recovering (again): Willy, Hooper, and Van all got bit with the germ bug this past week. It’s been tough to kick. Not sure how I managed to escape it, but mother earth must know the house would go to shambles in the absence of a healthy mama.
Listening: Audioslave, “Doesn’t Remind Me”. It’s a rare to find a song that both Willy and I can enjoy. I like the acoustic version.
Rejoicing: Van is sleeping 10 hours straight through at night and napping, on a consistent basis, for a couple of hours during the day. I feel like a new woman. Now I’m ready for a third. I joke.
Redesigning: Notice the facelift? What do you think? When it’s complete, I’ll share the beauty and brains behind it all.
My Little Nugget
Dear Hooper,
You woke early from your nap, crying a cry that begged for my attention; begged me to forfeit the few minutes I usually give you to leisurely wake up. I came to your side and you were still lying in your playpen, tucked beneath blankets big and small and cradled, on each side, by a sea of stuffed animals. You stayed lying down and rubbed your eye as I turned on the light and turned off your humidifier. Your eye has been red and watery since yesterday and I’m immediately concerned that it’s bothering you. What bothers you, bothers me; we’re intertwined like that.
I scoop you up and hold you in my arms as I kneel on the floor beside your playpen. You’re naked, wearing only your diaper. Your blanket is draped over my shoulder and I can smell you on it. I enjoy the moment for what it’s worth, expecting your head to pop up off the crook of my shoulder momentarily. I know these moments are fleeting, but for whatever reason, you remain weightless in my arms; a part of me.
My neck starts to ache from the angle I have to hold it to accommodate your toddler frame. I debate whether I should take the chance and move to the bed, knowing that moving could wake the go-see-do toddler energy in you.
We move to the bed and you remain sunk into my frame; you legs sandwiched in between mine, your head still on my shoulder. I can feel the dampness of you hair, still wet from your bath. My fingers trace the outline of your spine all the way down to your diaper, which crinkles every time my fingers meet it. You have your fingers in your mouth and I listen as you periodically suck on them. You stop sucking to gasp for air, still congested from the cold that got the best of your Papa and brother as well.
You lie there long enough for me to relax; long enough for me to truly be present and forget about the laundry and the dishes that wait for me outside your door. I lift my head up off your pillow and peek at your face. Your eyes are closed. My fingers trace the outline of your face, running from your forehead down to your chin. You have not slept on me since you were an infant and I struggle to remember what those days were even like.
I start to get choked up, lying there with you. I can feel a lump in the back of my throat and a single tear traces a path down my face. I’m not sad, I’m in love, and I’m overcome by it. Engulfed in it.
You slowly get up, kneeling by my side, your eyes weary and your fingers still in your mouth. You say nothing, but you’re looking at me. I wonder what you’re thinking. I reciprocate the silence, still trying to hold on to what just was.
And then you say, “Chicken”.
You make your way off the bed and I follow behind you, your blanket dragging on the floor between us. And I feel like the luckiest mom in the world.
Love,
Mama
Side notes: Congrats to Nicole Weiss for winning the giveaway to Custom On It. I sent you an email 🙂
Also, I’ve been ping-ponging back and forth between 5th and 6th over on Top Baby Blog. If ya’ll wouldn’t mind throwing a vote my way, I would be filled to the brim with joy. Simply click on the link below and then on the brown box above the owl. You can vote daily, if you feel so inclined. Much love.