4

G is for gratitude

gratitude

Though the title is sarcastically crooned to the tune of the annoying alphabet CD that W loves (if you’ve been in my car you probably still have nightmares thinking about it), I really mean it – “G” is for gratitude.  That is, the immense gratitude I have for the phenomenal women in my life.  Ya, there are a lot of sacred bonds in life…but when I’m running low on sleep and and I can’t sing another round of the ABC’s, nothing is more important than the bond I have with the women on this journey with me.  From my own mum, to my boobie group mamas, my neighborhood ladies and my girls…you ladies are the shit.  Srsly.

Though we may not see each other every day – nap-time routines seem to trump coffee dates these days.  And we might not talk on the phone – who has time for that now that W is starting to crawl?  Frankly, we might only know each other through Facebook – but I think that counts these days, right? Despite all that, we might as well be life-long friends.  Because the bond forged through a shared experience so traumatic and funny and gross and awesomely beautiful makes us part of the oldest club around.  Motherhood.

So…

To the woman who gave birth to me and who still drives an hour a day, every day, to spend time with us.  To the women who walked through every inch of Babies ‘R Us with me and told me what I really neededwho hand-delivered homemade dinners for three weeks after W was born…who have heard every minute detail of my birth story and seen my boobs more than they can count…who laugh with me when I get pooped on and still sit next to me at lunch…who fiercely defend my right to parent in a way that’s best for me even if it’s different from theirs…who offer kind words of support…who acknowledge when things are plain old shitty…who have taught me about compassion, humor and acceptance…who just listen.  To the women who just are: thank you.

Knowing they’ve you’ve got my back – that you’re standing alongside me as we face the challenges that come with each and every next step – that’s enough to remind me of the strength, beauty and sheer awesomeness I posses as a mother.  You remind me I’m doing a good job at this whole “life-sustaining” business.  And while you’re here, let me take the opportunity to tell you that YOU’RE doing a great job, too.  

Gratefully yours,

momME

image from http://legendofanomad.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/gratitude.png

3

Pooparazzi

Why is it that when we become parents, it’s suddenly OK to start taking (and sending) pictures of poop?  Sure, it’s your child’s poop, but come on, it’s still poop!

Nonetheless, I’ve become oddly obsessed (and strangely proud) of W’s poops, especially since he’s started solids.  So much so, I feel the need to snap a pic and send to my hubby while he’s at work.  As if that’s really what he wants to see on his lunch break.  But, now that I’m a SAHM, validation of my productivity and stellar work are no longer in the form of praise from my boss…or recognition on a team call…or leading conversion rates in a data report.  Input and output have a WHOLE new meaning now…and I look for validation of my life-sustaining skills in a size 3 diaper.

Since no one’s here to see it, though, and it quickly makes its way into the trash, I guess I feel the need to document it and prove its existence.  As poor W is laying on his changing table, cute little butt exposed and vulnerable, I sometimes wonder, Is this what Kim Kardashian feels like?  People snapping any shot they can get, the worse the better?  Well, whatever, W doesn’t seem to mind.  In fact, he loves the iPhone.  So, onward with documenting the nasty.

Just call me the pooparazzi.  Validation of my new career now comes in so MANY different shapes…sizes…textures.  Yum.  Here’s a few I’m especially proud of:

IMG_2845

The “Play dough” poop – this was the second poop in a post-constipation trilogy.  It was pretty malleable… (The first was the “I haven’t pooped in 5 days pellet.”  It literally rattled around in his diaper.  Poor little guy).

100MEDIA$IMAG1931

The “liquid lava” poop.  An explosion of poop.  Enough said.

IMG_2552

The “sweet potato soft serve” poop.  I was lucky enough to be changing him when he decided to squeeze this one out onto a wipe.

IMG_1065

The “Mommy, you didn’t pack an extra pair of pants for YOU?” poop.  Luckily this happened at my nursing group, though we were on our way to Whole Foods.  The lady behind me in line at the quesadilla counter thought it was REALLY funny.  Yeah.

NOTE:  Honorable mention goes to several others whose existence wasn’t captured –  the frothy “avocado” poop, the “I haven’t pooped in 5 days” pellet and the “fully intact green bean” poop.

Yours poo-ly,

MomMe

0

Chew on that, mom

photo

Lots of things are complicated when it comes to a new baby, but I didn’t think feeding W was one of them.  Until, like most things lately, I did a little research.

When the topic of starting solid food came up I didn’t think twice – we would spoon feed W yummy purees.  Being on the healthy side, I’d actually MAKE the purees here at home.  Take that, store-bought-purees, I thought.  I’m going to feed my baby the best.

Sigh.  Yet again, my new-mom-naivete slapped me in face. There is new research.  There are new schools of thought.  More decisions.  More explaining those decisions.  And that’s when I learned about BLW (another annoying mommy-blog-o-nym short for baby lead weaning…or baby lead solids).

The concept makes sense, I’ll admit that.  Baby learns to eat just like we eat.  Give them normal food in a sort of soft stage and let them feed themselves.  It puts the wheel (or the carrot stick) right in baby’s hand.  They decide if they’re hungry.  They decide if they’re not.  Research shows that babies who eat in this way are less picky because they’re introduced to more foods and textures.  Research shows that babies who eat this way have less allergies because they’re introduced to more foods.  Research shows that babies who eat this way choke less because they learn how much they can or can’t put in their mouths…and they actually learn to chew before they learn to swallow (with purees, they learn to swallow first…so when they begin to need to chew they’re tempted to swallow first).

Choking.  That’s where I’m stuck, folks.  I can NOT get passed the fact that gagging is a normal part of this learning phase with BLW!  I have an active imagination as it is.  I go into worst-case-scenario-mode in a matter of seconds.  To make things worse, this isn’t something totally imagined (like when I’m driving over a bridge and I start to think how I’d get W and the dog out of a sinking car if the bridge collapsed…).  This is actually happening, and the line between gagging (there is noise associated with this) and choking (silent) is so very fine.  I.Can’t.Deal.

Bottom line, I have to wait for the hubby to get home because I can’t do the BLW by myself.  If anything ever went wrong I couldn’t live with myself.  As I’m typing this, I’m thinking, Wow, this sounds so serious…like you’re talking about letting your kid play with knives while you’re home alone.  Nope, just talking about eating some avocado.

When did eating go from my FAVORITE pastime to something that now scares the living daylights out of me?  Where’s the fun in that?  I certainly don’t want my anxiety to scare W into thinking that eating is scary.

We’re going to keep trying.  Little by little.  Wedge of food after wedge of food.  Some nights I might have to call it quits after a serious gag/choke.  Some nights I might survive a few.  But, if it means he’s less likely to choke when he’s older…I guess I’ll *try* to stick with it.

Updates to follow.

Anxiously yours,

MomMe