Introduction??? I'm a mommy. I'm 40, pregnant again. Losing my train of thought at least 8x per day. My beautiful little daughter is Angelina, 21 months old. My soul came alive when she was born. I was a workaholic. She cured me of that. I was an obsessively career driven cop for 14 years. She cured me of that too. So I decided to retire prematurely. I hope to teach Angelina to be proud of the fact that I once wore combat boots, although these days I'm looking for slip on sneakers as I figure I wont be able to reach my feet to tie anything soon. I was a woman in a man's field. There are still only about 8% of my fellow feds who are women. I have, as you all know, an odd sense of humor. Most cops do. Odd senses of humor can easily offend. After years of writing affidavits and "just the facts, Ma'am" stuff, I've wanted to write just for fun. Angelina gives me LOTS of material. Or should I say my adaptation to mommyhood has not always been a smooth transition. Being a woman in a man's field means I dealt with a million different and conflicting expectations and judgements. It's hard to hit a moving target so I learned to stop trying and be true to myself. I hope that has prepared me to be a better Mom in what I can teach AJ and #2.
I write these Mommy moments and e-mail them primarily to AJ. If for whatever reason I didn't distribute them anymore I'd still be writing e-mails to my daughter. I just thought they were funny and would resonate with other mommies.
When I was pregnant the first time I bought a sweatshirt from Title 9 sports that says "Life Is Good" on the front. I lost that baby at 10 weeks. I was wearing the shirt yesterday at the home show and a gal asked me "Is life really good?" I stopped and said an unqualified "Yes!" I told her "I'm pregnant, due in September. I have a beautiful and sweet 21 month old. I have a husband who's wonderful, although he annoys the crap out of me sometimes, so I have a blissfully NORMAL marriage. I'm forty, I'm fat, I have wrinkles and fluctuating hormones ... I like myself (finally) and I'm absolutely loving life." That kinda says it all.
There's the introduction. Thanks for being interested. All materials herein are subject to copywrite laws, Copywrite held by Evelyn James
Monday, February 28, 2005
Friday, February 18, 2005
2/18/2005
I was taking a nap over the weekend. Dad was on duty. I was awakened from my comfortable snooze on the couch by little fingers stuffing blue playdoh up my nose. I discovered that the reason she'd resorted to my nose was because she'd already exhausted the capacity of her own nose. Almost a week later I've finally gotten the last blue flakes out of Angelina's little nostrils. I'm not entirely sure my own are clear yet.
What is it about kids and exploring their orifices (orifi?) My mom reminded me of a phone call where I kept interrupting our conversation to tell Angelina to stop shoving blueberries in her ear. Mom said that it was okay as long as it wasn't a coffee bean up the nose -- my sister's trick.
A wise friend of mine assures me "it's a phase, it's ALL a phase." And this is one of the interesting ways in which our children are sent to us for the purpose of teaching humility. One day I was feeling annoyed with another child who kept snatching toys away from Angelina. Actually followed her around for no other reason than to monitor what toys she was touching and snatch them out of her hand. Angelina's always been a fairly even-keeled kid, and she just went off to the next toy. We decided to leave as it was obviously disruptive and unproductive to be there, and at the door our little friend hugged and kissed Angelina with genuine sincerity. I found myself thinking "Oh, you aren't a little monster child after all." Just a tiny bit of smugness on the part of a Mommy, and parental Karma will bite your ass! Not two weeks later Angelina was behaving in exactly the same way.
Another friend's baby, who is obviously brilliant, was getting easily frustrated and started hitting and pulling hair. We mommies were vigilant about refereeing playtimes, and no one got hurt. I'm absolutely positive that someday Angelina will be the hitter, hair-puller or biter. How do we keep the balance? I'm convinced that if I ever get smug or judgmental, even in the most backwater regions of my brain that parental Karma will have Angelina coming home at age 16 with 23 piercings and a positive pregnancy test. I guess by this confession I can be officially diagnosed as neurotic.
But on the subject of backwater regions of my brain... It seems as though the backwater has turned into a murky swamp about the size of the Everglades. Just yesterday I had prepared my lunch (leftover Outback steak and canned corn) and poured myself a glass of orange soda. I walked out to the sunroom/dining room with every intention of eating it when it seemed as though some unseen specter smashed the plate against my chest and spilled my soda all over -- No, we don't have a ghost, but it took me about 5 beats before I realized the damn glass door was closed and I'd just walked into it at full speed. Angelina was napping, so Doug had the good grace to stifle his laughter. I thought the effort would cause him to rupture his spleen! He picked up the phone and dialed Janine, our former au-pair to tell her what I'd done. I'd gotten a good chuckle at her expense when she'd done it a couple times over the year she was with us. And I was the one who closed the door! Again, careful who you laugh at 'cause the next prat-fall will be yours!
February 10th is a day that will live in ... Geez how do you decide? It was the first day Angelina didn't nurse. At nearly 21 months, I know I've done a good job by her. She's a healthy little thing, emphasis on LITTLE, however. I wouldn't have weaned her except that I'm pregnant again (YEAH!). So I'm glad she's weaned for the safety of this next pregnancy, and I'm so thrilled to be pregnant again, but I miss nursing. My brother always says that FIRSTS come in with trumpets and fanfare and lasts tiptoe through your life on quiet little kitten feet. First steps, first tooth, first word. When's the last time she had those baby hiccups? When's the last time she sucked on my pinkie as a pacifier? When's the last time she clutched on to my fingers while practice-walking? When's the last time she said "MAMA" and started saying a very mature "Mommy!" I know when the last time was that she nursed. She still hugs my breasts. Insists that mommy be "Nackt" while we're watching TV in the evening so she can cuddle up with my boobs. Yells "BOOBIE" at the top of her lungs while I'm on the phone until I expose them for a cuddle. You'd think I'd've taught her a better word for them, eh? It's comforting to know that closeness and cuddles continue unrelated to nursing. What an absolute joy it has been to successfully nurse my baby; to give her the best nutrition I could; to hold her close in the middle of the night when the rest of the world was asleep and I could swear I felt Angels surrounding us and watching with smiles of love and peace.
On the other hand, I think I'm suffering from oxytocin withdrawals (or is it the prolactin?). I swear I'm more impatient and irritable than I've ever been with her. Or am I just now turning back into a normal person. Exactly why did I put up with it taking about 1/2 an hour to get from up stairs to the car seat? Yeah well, that Madonna-esque crap is out the window now. I've decided walking can be considered a privilege and if I'm running late then I hoist her like a little sack o' taters and cram her in the car with a cheery "You want to see your buddies, don't you?" All this despite my desire to have her trained to be a little more independent. I really don't want to be carrying her a lot in trimester #3 (and since last time I went 42 weeks, I don't want to be carrying her a lot in trimester #4 either).
I drove home from a playgroup and Angelina fell asleep in the back. I turned off the radio to hear her snore. She comes by it honestly, I snore like a freight train. What a joyous little sound. We've never co-slept, so those rare occasions when she does fall asleep with me it's a very special occasion. Not long ago she fell asleep and HAD to be ON me. She flopped around like a landed mackerel, eventually landing on my neck. I was enjoying it so much I didn't want to move her. Of course I could barely move my neck for the next couple days, but it was worth it.
Another thing she comes by honestly is a fondness for coffee. Try going into a Starbucks and asking for a kid's steamed milk with 1/2 a shot of decaf espresso. If they don't look at you funny, you'll know I've already been there and broke them in for you. I used to give her a teaspoon full at a time in her little Ikea porcelain tea set during breakfast. This could go on for quite a while. One morning recently I didn't have the time for the ritual so I nuked her sippy of milk, added some brown sugar and a tiny scoop of decaf instant. Later that day she shocked me with her first four word sentence... she handed me the empty sippy and said "Mommy, milch, kaffee, holen!" This translates to "Mommy, milk, coffee, get-me-some." I comfort myself by recalling the time she got wired off her little @$$ from a child's cocoa. Decaf is MUCH better.
I'm now 56 days pregnant. Day 51 is when I lost the first baby, so day 52 was a big WOOO HOOO for me. All is well save for the death of more brain cells.
Evelyn All materials herein are subject to copywrite laws, Copywrite held by Evelyn James
What is it about kids and exploring their orifices (orifi?) My mom reminded me of a phone call where I kept interrupting our conversation to tell Angelina to stop shoving blueberries in her ear. Mom said that it was okay as long as it wasn't a coffee bean up the nose -- my sister's trick.
A wise friend of mine assures me "it's a phase, it's ALL a phase." And this is one of the interesting ways in which our children are sent to us for the purpose of teaching humility. One day I was feeling annoyed with another child who kept snatching toys away from Angelina. Actually followed her around for no other reason than to monitor what toys she was touching and snatch them out of her hand. Angelina's always been a fairly even-keeled kid, and she just went off to the next toy. We decided to leave as it was obviously disruptive and unproductive to be there, and at the door our little friend hugged and kissed Angelina with genuine sincerity. I found myself thinking "Oh, you aren't a little monster child after all." Just a tiny bit of smugness on the part of a Mommy, and parental Karma will bite your ass! Not two weeks later Angelina was behaving in exactly the same way.
Another friend's baby, who is obviously brilliant, was getting easily frustrated and started hitting and pulling hair. We mommies were vigilant about refereeing playtimes, and no one got hurt. I'm absolutely positive that someday Angelina will be the hitter, hair-puller or biter. How do we keep the balance? I'm convinced that if I ever get smug or judgmental, even in the most backwater regions of my brain that parental Karma will have Angelina coming home at age 16 with 23 piercings and a positive pregnancy test. I guess by this confession I can be officially diagnosed as neurotic.
But on the subject of backwater regions of my brain... It seems as though the backwater has turned into a murky swamp about the size of the Everglades. Just yesterday I had prepared my lunch (leftover Outback steak and canned corn) and poured myself a glass of orange soda. I walked out to the sunroom/dining room with every intention of eating it when it seemed as though some unseen specter smashed the plate against my chest and spilled my soda all over -- No, we don't have a ghost, but it took me about 5 beats before I realized the damn glass door was closed and I'd just walked into it at full speed. Angelina was napping, so Doug had the good grace to stifle his laughter. I thought the effort would cause him to rupture his spleen! He picked up the phone and dialed Janine, our former au-pair to tell her what I'd done. I'd gotten a good chuckle at her expense when she'd done it a couple times over the year she was with us. And I was the one who closed the door! Again, careful who you laugh at 'cause the next prat-fall will be yours!
February 10th is a day that will live in ... Geez how do you decide? It was the first day Angelina didn't nurse. At nearly 21 months, I know I've done a good job by her. She's a healthy little thing, emphasis on LITTLE, however. I wouldn't have weaned her except that I'm pregnant again (YEAH!). So I'm glad she's weaned for the safety of this next pregnancy, and I'm so thrilled to be pregnant again, but I miss nursing. My brother always says that FIRSTS come in with trumpets and fanfare and lasts tiptoe through your life on quiet little kitten feet. First steps, first tooth, first word. When's the last time she had those baby hiccups? When's the last time she sucked on my pinkie as a pacifier? When's the last time she clutched on to my fingers while practice-walking? When's the last time she said "MAMA" and started saying a very mature "Mommy!" I know when the last time was that she nursed. She still hugs my breasts. Insists that mommy be "Nackt" while we're watching TV in the evening so she can cuddle up with my boobs. Yells "BOOBIE" at the top of her lungs while I'm on the phone until I expose them for a cuddle. You'd think I'd've taught her a better word for them, eh? It's comforting to know that closeness and cuddles continue unrelated to nursing. What an absolute joy it has been to successfully nurse my baby; to give her the best nutrition I could; to hold her close in the middle of the night when the rest of the world was asleep and I could swear I felt Angels surrounding us and watching with smiles of love and peace.
On the other hand, I think I'm suffering from oxytocin withdrawals (or is it the prolactin?). I swear I'm more impatient and irritable than I've ever been with her. Or am I just now turning back into a normal person. Exactly why did I put up with it taking about 1/2 an hour to get from up stairs to the car seat? Yeah well, that Madonna-esque crap is out the window now. I've decided walking can be considered a privilege and if I'm running late then I hoist her like a little sack o' taters and cram her in the car with a cheery "You want to see your buddies, don't you?" All this despite my desire to have her trained to be a little more independent. I really don't want to be carrying her a lot in trimester #3 (and since last time I went 42 weeks, I don't want to be carrying her a lot in trimester #4 either).
I drove home from a playgroup and Angelina fell asleep in the back. I turned off the radio to hear her snore. She comes by it honestly, I snore like a freight train. What a joyous little sound. We've never co-slept, so those rare occasions when she does fall asleep with me it's a very special occasion. Not long ago she fell asleep and HAD to be ON me. She flopped around like a landed mackerel, eventually landing on my neck. I was enjoying it so much I didn't want to move her. Of course I could barely move my neck for the next couple days, but it was worth it.
Another thing she comes by honestly is a fondness for coffee. Try going into a Starbucks and asking for a kid's steamed milk with 1/2 a shot of decaf espresso. If they don't look at you funny, you'll know I've already been there and broke them in for you. I used to give her a teaspoon full at a time in her little Ikea porcelain tea set during breakfast. This could go on for quite a while. One morning recently I didn't have the time for the ritual so I nuked her sippy of milk, added some brown sugar and a tiny scoop of decaf instant. Later that day she shocked me with her first four word sentence... she handed me the empty sippy and said "Mommy, milch, kaffee, holen!" This translates to "Mommy, milk, coffee, get-me-some." I comfort myself by recalling the time she got wired off her little @$$ from a child's cocoa. Decaf is MUCH better.
I'm now 56 days pregnant. Day 51 is when I lost the first baby, so day 52 was a big WOOO HOOO for me. All is well save for the death of more brain cells.
Evelyn All materials herein are subject to copywrite laws, Copywrite held by Evelyn James
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
1/18/2005
Angelina has reached some major developmental milestone. I'm not sure exactly which category it comes under; cognitive, social, gross motor, fine motor control... I don't know. But she's realized that she can use her sleeves (or bare forearms) to wipe her nose. This monumentous discovery means that now I need to wipe not just her nose, but also the cute little slug trails she's wiped on her arms. Oh the joys of winter, eh?
Doug and I have been sleeping apart because I've been coughing. Angelina's been sick too, so she's been up several more times per night than usual so I've been tired. The other day I got her at 7:00. We cuddled in bed. The boobs are a self-service item now as she does her morning nursing without much involvement from me, and I can catch another five minutes of sleep. I just wanted a few more minutes of sleep, so I let Angelina wander around our baby-proofed house unsupervised. This lasted until she came back and wanted to show me her newest treasure. She gave me a handful of something soft and damp. Even sleepy I knew this couldn't be good and when my eyes could focus I discovered I had been presented with a hand full of cat puke. I should have realized that what Angelina had been saying was "Itty Pooh, Itty Pooh." If that doesn't start your day with a sense of anticipation for what's coming next, I don't know what would!
She's underweight. At 19 months, she's only 21 lbs and hasn't been gaining in ages. Because of this I have food at the ready for her constantly. On a recent trip to the zoo, I had goldfish, chicken nuggets, olives, sliced apples, dried blueberries, flat fruit, Ritz bits, juice, and dinosaur shaped gummy fruits. And what do I find her eating when we're in the middle of the petting zoo? Hay balls. The little hay balls we're supposed to be feeding the goats. A veritable smorgasbord I bring for her, and she's eating hay balls. I guess I don't need to worry about fiber.
I've come to the conclusion that chastity belts weren't actually invented by suspicious husbands who were off on some crusade du jour. No, they were actually invented by some frustrated mom who couldn't keep a diaper on her kid. Angelina has a great future as a nudist. She's actually developing interesting manipulative skills in that she knows if she stands by her potty and says "Pee pee!" that I'll take off her clothes and her diaper and set her on the potty. It's at this point that she makes a break for it and runs around the house buck-assed naked, flapping her little arms and yodeling. I don't know why the yodeling has to go along with most of the running, but even when she's dressed, running = yodeling.
Her favorite thing to do while naked is go play "night night" in our bed. She squirms under the covers giggling, and pats the pillow next to her indicating that Mommy should come play "night night" too. I guess she loves the feeling of the flannel on her naked little body. This lasts until Mommy gets a bit nervous about Angelina's bladder capacity. If it were up to her, she'd be naked 24/7. She's learning a new word an hour, it seems and her latest one is "Nackt" or "naked" in German. She'll tug at her clothes whining "Nackt! Nackt!" And while we're under the covers giggling, she usually starts pulling at my clothes saying "Nackt! Nackt!" There's just something beautiful about skin on skin contact with a giggling toddler. Absolutely unselfconscious other than the sheer joy of nudity. This is what the Garden of Eden must have been like.
Doug and I are trying to conceive (TTC) our second child. We've been trying for about 8 months now. I've been charting, peeing on little white plastic sticks, taking herbs and doing acupuncture. I'm basically doing everything short of praying for immaculate conception. I'm THIS close to sacrificing a chicken to the fertility gods. I hear Oxyclean gets out blood stains.
This procreation focus tends to take a lot of the "recreation" focus away from intimate encounters. I'm sure any of you who spent a bit of time TTC can relate. Of course trying to time intimate/procreative encounters during the holidays while the in-laws were visiting as well as working around Angelina's naps... uh huh, THAT's gonna happen. (Heading into Too Much Information land, fair warning) So over the weekend my darling husband was intent on having a recreation-focused encounter to make up for a distinct lack of intimacy over the holidays and during the visit of his parents. We've always been fairly open-minded, and Doug being the gentleman that he is always wants to ensure my satisfaction, however that may be achieved. In an effort to jump start things as well as give me a hint as to his intentions, he made some selections from our "adult toys and novelties" drawer and laid them on the bed. You know what I'm talking about. We all had one to cope with dry spells in our love life during college. For you it might have been the shower massage -- Whatever, go for it. It was shortly after this, and before anything got started :-( that Angelina woke up from the shortest nap ever.
As soon as she's awake we get into her routine. I prepare lunch while she plays with our large salad bowl full of potatoes on the kitchen floor. We could spend millions on educational toys and she'd probably still prefer her potatoes which, incidentally are always well-tenderized by the time I use them. She gets her chicken nuggets (pronounced "bawk bawk" in toddlerese) and pasta most days. After lunch she decided she simply had to be nude -- no problem, I keep the potty handy. She ran to the bedroom while I cleaned up the lunch dishes. By the time I got to the bedroom, what to my wondering eyes should appear? Holy crap. Angelina (buck assed naked, remember) was wielding a battery-operated simulation of male genitalia designed to inspire an inadequacy complex in your average male*. And WITH this realistically colored item, she was energetically bludgeoning the cat. I decided to put aside my concerns about the inappropriateness of her handling this object and focused on the fact that she should be nice to the cat. So I'm telling her to be nice to the kitty, she's going to give the kitty an owie and so on. Angelina is obviously incredulous at this, and proceeds to bonk herself on the head with the realistically textured phallic object as if to say "Mommy, this CAN'T cause an owie, see?" At this point I came to the conclusion that this was WAY too freakishly surreal, snatched her new toy out of her hand and locked it back in the adult toys and novelties drawer and figured the damn cat could fend for herself.
So how were YOUR holidays?
Evelyn
*can they even be obtained in a "regular" size? All materials herein are subject to copywrite laws, Copywrite held by Evelyn James
Doug and I have been sleeping apart because I've been coughing. Angelina's been sick too, so she's been up several more times per night than usual so I've been tired. The other day I got her at 7:00. We cuddled in bed. The boobs are a self-service item now as she does her morning nursing without much involvement from me, and I can catch another five minutes of sleep. I just wanted a few more minutes of sleep, so I let Angelina wander around our baby-proofed house unsupervised. This lasted until she came back and wanted to show me her newest treasure. She gave me a handful of something soft and damp. Even sleepy I knew this couldn't be good and when my eyes could focus I discovered I had been presented with a hand full of cat puke. I should have realized that what Angelina had been saying was "Itty Pooh, Itty Pooh." If that doesn't start your day with a sense of anticipation for what's coming next, I don't know what would!
She's underweight. At 19 months, she's only 21 lbs and hasn't been gaining in ages. Because of this I have food at the ready for her constantly. On a recent trip to the zoo, I had goldfish, chicken nuggets, olives, sliced apples, dried blueberries, flat fruit, Ritz bits, juice, and dinosaur shaped gummy fruits. And what do I find her eating when we're in the middle of the petting zoo? Hay balls. The little hay balls we're supposed to be feeding the goats. A veritable smorgasbord I bring for her, and she's eating hay balls. I guess I don't need to worry about fiber.
I've come to the conclusion that chastity belts weren't actually invented by suspicious husbands who were off on some crusade du jour. No, they were actually invented by some frustrated mom who couldn't keep a diaper on her kid. Angelina has a great future as a nudist. She's actually developing interesting manipulative skills in that she knows if she stands by her potty and says "Pee pee!" that I'll take off her clothes and her diaper and set her on the potty. It's at this point that she makes a break for it and runs around the house buck-assed naked, flapping her little arms and yodeling. I don't know why the yodeling has to go along with most of the running, but even when she's dressed, running = yodeling.
Her favorite thing to do while naked is go play "night night" in our bed. She squirms under the covers giggling, and pats the pillow next to her indicating that Mommy should come play "night night" too. I guess she loves the feeling of the flannel on her naked little body. This lasts until Mommy gets a bit nervous about Angelina's bladder capacity. If it were up to her, she'd be naked 24/7. She's learning a new word an hour, it seems and her latest one is "Nackt" or "naked" in German. She'll tug at her clothes whining "Nackt! Nackt!" And while we're under the covers giggling, she usually starts pulling at my clothes saying "Nackt! Nackt!" There's just something beautiful about skin on skin contact with a giggling toddler. Absolutely unselfconscious other than the sheer joy of nudity. This is what the Garden of Eden must have been like.
Doug and I are trying to conceive (TTC) our second child. We've been trying for about 8 months now. I've been charting, peeing on little white plastic sticks, taking herbs and doing acupuncture. I'm basically doing everything short of praying for immaculate conception. I'm THIS close to sacrificing a chicken to the fertility gods. I hear Oxyclean gets out blood stains.
This procreation focus tends to take a lot of the "recreation" focus away from intimate encounters. I'm sure any of you who spent a bit of time TTC can relate. Of course trying to time intimate/procreative encounters during the holidays while the in-laws were visiting as well as working around Angelina's naps... uh huh, THAT's gonna happen. (Heading into Too Much Information land, fair warning) So over the weekend my darling husband was intent on having a recreation-focused encounter to make up for a distinct lack of intimacy over the holidays and during the visit of his parents. We've always been fairly open-minded, and Doug being the gentleman that he is always wants to ensure my satisfaction, however that may be achieved. In an effort to jump start things as well as give me a hint as to his intentions, he made some selections from our "adult toys and novelties" drawer and laid them on the bed. You know what I'm talking about. We all had one to cope with dry spells in our love life during college. For you it might have been the shower massage -- Whatever, go for it. It was shortly after this, and before anything got started :-( that Angelina woke up from the shortest nap ever.
As soon as she's awake we get into her routine. I prepare lunch while she plays with our large salad bowl full of potatoes on the kitchen floor. We could spend millions on educational toys and she'd probably still prefer her potatoes which, incidentally are always well-tenderized by the time I use them. She gets her chicken nuggets (pronounced "bawk bawk" in toddlerese) and pasta most days. After lunch she decided she simply had to be nude -- no problem, I keep the potty handy. She ran to the bedroom while I cleaned up the lunch dishes. By the time I got to the bedroom, what to my wondering eyes should appear? Holy crap. Angelina (buck assed naked, remember) was wielding a battery-operated simulation of male genitalia designed to inspire an inadequacy complex in your average male*. And WITH this realistically colored item, she was energetically bludgeoning the cat. I decided to put aside my concerns about the inappropriateness of her handling this object and focused on the fact that she should be nice to the cat. So I'm telling her to be nice to the kitty, she's going to give the kitty an owie and so on. Angelina is obviously incredulous at this, and proceeds to bonk herself on the head with the realistically textured phallic object as if to say "Mommy, this CAN'T cause an owie, see?" At this point I came to the conclusion that this was WAY too freakishly surreal, snatched her new toy out of her hand and locked it back in the adult toys and novelties drawer and figured the damn cat could fend for herself.
So how were YOUR holidays?
Evelyn
*can they even be obtained in a "regular" size? All materials herein are subject to copywrite laws, Copywrite held by Evelyn James
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)