I joined a listserv back when I first became pregnant with Cole that consisted of local moms (and soon to be moms) from our Capitol Hill (DC) neighborhood. It offered a phenomenal network of woman who were experiencing the similar life event of motherhood. Individuals post requests for all sorts of information (doctors, daycare, babysitters, playgrounds et al) and most often are instantly (literally 24/7) sent a digest of advice and wisdom in return.
I have kept myself subscribed to the group to continue receiving the fantastic daily summary. It allows me to keep tabs on some of the friends I made in my short time as a mom on the HILL and gives me insights on the myriad questions that I myself have as Cole challenges me as a mom. Along with the varied content, there occasionally is an entry forwarded along that speaks volumes to us moms and needs no further explanation. Below you will find one of those. It makes me think about what my future as Cole's mom will be like. I hope I can play the sometime invisible role of mom as I tend to be one to thrive on words of affirmation. I guess I will just have to remind myself that I am a key cornerstone and continuing collaborator of my own work in progress. In 18 or so years, my input in laying the framework and foundation of my own "cathedral" will be in large part complete. Wish me luck!
Invisible Moms
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Carol , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my daughter to tell the friend she's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want her to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
The same four walls...
Well it has been a doozy of a winter here in Minnesota. I can see why everyone warned me about catching cabin fever. It would be very easy to stay warm and cozy indoors and yet go INSANE! Thus, it is consistently on my mom agenda to keep a running calendar of activities for Cole and I to attend or participate in to get us out of the house even on the coldest arctic days. Something interactive, social or otherwise educational or engaging. My wish is to continue to trigger those growing brain cells in Cole's vastly expanding mind and expose him to something new as often as possible. However, these activities only kill two hours or so of a very long fourteen hour day with the little guy. If you add in the preparation time of getting dressed for the subzero weather, you knock off additional minutes but you are still left with a very long sometimes seemingly endless day.
A day in the life of Cole still begins way before sun up (4-5am) and ends around 7pm. Despite our desire to push his time clock closer to ours, a specialist has determined that Cole is nature's anomaly. He is a geniune early bird. I could go on about this revelation but in all honesty, I am so beyond conversing about our chronic sleep deprivation that it doesn't warrant another word.
We cannot escape our home by taking long outdoor walks due to the severe cold a large majority of the time. When we have a warm day (20 degrees) we do bundle up and head out to clear our heads. As for the other 28 days of the month, I struggle as to what to do for some exercise. Cole does not do well at the gym's daycare. They love him there but he has a tendency to begin screaming his head off AFTER I get on a treadmill and get my heart rate at its' peak with sweat streaming from my unconditioned body. At that point, the nursery assistant comes and finds me to wrap up my workout (without a cool down) to go collect my angel. As for the suggestion made at my mommy and me class of looping around the MOA (Mall of America), my idea of an endorphin producing cardio workout is not defined as dodging the thousand other strollers veering off course as mother's multi-task by talking on their cell phones while their wee ones zone out looking at neon retail signs, I think you can gather what my ONE attempt at this "fun" was. No thanks. I did it once and only once hence my personal analysis.
I know I should revel in being at home with Cole and I do 80% of the time. I cannot fathom someone else having shared his days so intimately with him over the past 15 months as I have but the isolation I feel some days at spending an inordinate amount of my waking hours confined to our house doing a lot of what seems like nothing is hard to digest. Simply at times I want to work again. My purpose as a mother is not measured and weighed like my workload as a professional working woman was and there are days I wish for my annoying colleagues and noisy office. I must remind myself when I crave my previous life that what seems like doing nothing with Cole day in and day out during these long winter weeks is actually doing more than I ever have before. I am shaping a life of the future and that is the most important job of all.
A day in the life of Cole still begins way before sun up (4-5am) and ends around 7pm. Despite our desire to push his time clock closer to ours, a specialist has determined that Cole is nature's anomaly. He is a geniune early bird. I could go on about this revelation but in all honesty, I am so beyond conversing about our chronic sleep deprivation that it doesn't warrant another word.
We cannot escape our home by taking long outdoor walks due to the severe cold a large majority of the time. When we have a warm day (20 degrees) we do bundle up and head out to clear our heads. As for the other 28 days of the month, I struggle as to what to do for some exercise. Cole does not do well at the gym's daycare. They love him there but he has a tendency to begin screaming his head off AFTER I get on a treadmill and get my heart rate at its' peak with sweat streaming from my unconditioned body. At that point, the nursery assistant comes and finds me to wrap up my workout (without a cool down) to go collect my angel. As for the suggestion made at my mommy and me class of looping around the MOA (Mall of America), my idea of an endorphin producing cardio workout is not defined as dodging the thousand other strollers veering off course as mother's multi-task by talking on their cell phones while their wee ones zone out looking at neon retail signs, I think you can gather what my ONE attempt at this "fun" was. No thanks. I did it once and only once hence my personal analysis.
I know I should revel in being at home with Cole and I do 80% of the time. I cannot fathom someone else having shared his days so intimately with him over the past 15 months as I have but the isolation I feel some days at spending an inordinate amount of my waking hours confined to our house doing a lot of what seems like nothing is hard to digest. Simply at times I want to work again. My purpose as a mother is not measured and weighed like my workload as a professional working woman was and there are days I wish for my annoying colleagues and noisy office. I must remind myself when I crave my previous life that what seems like doing nothing with Cole day in and day out during these long winter weeks is actually doing more than I ever have before. I am shaping a life of the future and that is the most important job of all.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Our own personal video wall...
I am always searching for smart ways to archive video files taken of Cole with our camera. Since they are such large files and would jam up most people's email boxes, I choose not to send using that cybermode, so I had been using a website that compressed and stored them allowing me to send you all a quick link instead. However,ninety percent of the websites that have existed until recently have had low maximums on what the individual file size(100MB) could be which doesn't help me when most of my files are over 100 MB. So I kept looking until I found a cool new web service (www.dailymotion.com)that allows me to create a video wall of my personal videos, allows a larger file capacity (150 MB), does not charge me a penny and does all the design work for me. All I have to do is download the avi clips and voila! I am very excited to add to our library.
You should see a bunch of boxes below, I have downloaded two films. Just put your cursor over where you see Cole and it should just play without a click. Some of you may have to click depending on what internet browser you use (IE, Firefox, Safari etc).
You should see a bunch of boxes below, I have downloaded two films. Just put your cursor over where you see Cole and it should just play without a click. Some of you may have to click depending on what internet browser you use (IE, Firefox, Safari etc).
Friday, February 1, 2008
A boy and his dog...
I saw this poem in a book I was recently reading and I immediately connected with it. Cole is absolutely fascinated with Tucker and all he does, hugging Tucker around his neck, laying on Tucker like a pillow, crawling over Tucker who lays there so patiently, throwing the ball (all but a few inches) for Tucker, picking up Tucker's toys and handing them gently to him (and Tucker ever so gently accepting them); listening to Cole's giggle as Tucker races around after coming in from the cold rubbing his face on the throw rug to get rid of the slobber icicles. They are such buddies and I look forward to watching their relationship grow. So the lines below provided me with a bit of melancholy as I fast forwarded to years from now.
It's tough on a dog when his boy grows up, when he no longer romps and frolics like a pup
It's tough on a dog when his boy grows older, when they no longer cuddle on the bed when it's cold
It's tough on a dog when a boy gets tall, when he's off with the boys playing soccer and baseball
They no longer paddle through the mud in the bog, hoping to find a stray turtle or frog
They no longer run through the grass up to their knees or roll in the piles of fresh fallen leaves
It's tough on a dog when a boy has work to do, when he forgets how to play like he used too
It's tough on a dog when instead of the woods or the field or the pond his boy becomes a man and that boy is now gone
Jean W. Sawtell
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Going out in January...
January in Minnesota is truly not for the faint of heart. Our first winter here is one of the coldest since 2000. We had record snowfall for the month of December and near record breaking subzero air temperatures this past weekend. In order to venture out you need to spend 10 minutes putting on required garb. Even to take out the trash, you cannot just dash from the back door to the bin in anything less than a hat, boots, jacket and gloves. Your hands will stick to the metal on the screen door, your nose hairs will freeze and your skin will sting if exposed to the piercing cold. We look like bank robbers when we go out to walk Tucker with our black face mask and hat pulled low in our puffy down coats and insulated gloves.
With that said, it takes great planning to get both ourselves and Cole ready for a journey out of the house. Cole's snowsuit is so thick he can barely move once we wrestle him into it so you have to leave that until last as he doesn't like the inability to move. The problem is that once you have all your layers on, you begin to heat up quickly so the sheer exercise of putting Cole into his snowsuit leaves you sweating. This whole scenario can add quite a bit of time to getting out the door, so you have to begin ahead of when you think you want to actually pull out of the driveway and then add some more time for last minute diaper changes, meltdowns etc. Once you get into the garage and start the car, you now have to attempt to get him into his carseat with your gloves on. This is a futile act but I find myself attempting to manage in such a manner each and every time. The straps and buckles are just too tiny to snap into place with bulky fleece gloves. I find myself pulling off the gloves in a race to get him into his seat before he moves and I have to reposition the straps lengthening the time my hands are exposed to the icy air. In the "comfort" of our garage, this is tolerable. In the parking lot at Target as the arctic winds whip around me, I curse silently.
We when arrive at a destination, before you open the door, you plan your path which means whatever way is fastest. You must remember that the parking lots and streets are continually snow and ice covered so your footing is crucial as you race walk with your heads down to get inside. Once back into the dry overheated warmth you have to unzipper jackets and remove hats only to repeat the aforementioned process all over when we depart.
Shorts and t-shirts will never feel so good as they will approximately 100 days from now.
With that said, it takes great planning to get both ourselves and Cole ready for a journey out of the house. Cole's snowsuit is so thick he can barely move once we wrestle him into it so you have to leave that until last as he doesn't like the inability to move. The problem is that once you have all your layers on, you begin to heat up quickly so the sheer exercise of putting Cole into his snowsuit leaves you sweating. This whole scenario can add quite a bit of time to getting out the door, so you have to begin ahead of when you think you want to actually pull out of the driveway and then add some more time for last minute diaper changes, meltdowns etc. Once you get into the garage and start the car, you now have to attempt to get him into his carseat with your gloves on. This is a futile act but I find myself attempting to manage in such a manner each and every time. The straps and buckles are just too tiny to snap into place with bulky fleece gloves. I find myself pulling off the gloves in a race to get him into his seat before he moves and I have to reposition the straps lengthening the time my hands are exposed to the icy air. In the "comfort" of our garage, this is tolerable. In the parking lot at Target as the arctic winds whip around me, I curse silently.
We when arrive at a destination, before you open the door, you plan your path which means whatever way is fastest. You must remember that the parking lots and streets are continually snow and ice covered so your footing is crucial as you race walk with your heads down to get inside. Once back into the dry overheated warmth you have to unzipper jackets and remove hats only to repeat the aforementioned process all over when we depart.
Shorts and t-shirts will never feel so good as they will approximately 100 days from now.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
A winter walk in the woods...
With another big chill (we are talking highs in the single digits) due to settle in by midweek, I have learned to take advantage of clear, calm days with temperatures above 20 degrees to get out and fill my tank with crisp fresh air. So today Cole and I went meandering through the Nature Preserve which is all but 3 miles from our house. We have visited several times since our move here but not yet during the quiet winter months.
Yesterday we had a dusting of new snow which carpeted what was left of our record snowfall. The untouched snowflakes sparkled in the weak January sun reminding me of the power of glare. The winter informational signs were posted and I stopped and read about the often overlooked creation and shape of the six sided wonders.
We started off on the Marsh Trail which circled around the lake. My footsteps were softened and muffled by the fresh layer of snow. Cole babbled from his perch up in the carrier, all bundled in his downy snowsuit. He has been enjoying his new ride and perspective and I have enjoyed becoming more mobile with him without the constraints of using the stroller.
As we found our pace, my movement steady, Cole quieted and within 10 minutes he had fallen asleep. I had my mind to myself to clear out the cobwebs and I took the peaceful opportunity to make many an observation.
The trail looped over the lake in places via a boardwalk. Only three months ago, the cattails that surrounded the water were swaying in the autumn breeze. Now they were frozen in place as the lake was a block of ice, literally. Their once smooth brown bodies now frayed and swollen with their innards puffing out like an old couch loosing its stuffing. The creak of the boardwalk was now not the give and take of the floats that kept it above water but of my weight pressing the wood against the icy surface.
The big looming trees looked frail and weary posing stark and naked against the winter sky. The newly fallen snow lay punctured on the sharp brambles and branches, their hardness to protect those who would turn supple and green again in the spring.
As I continued on up the Pine Trail and we made our way through the trees, the trail was less traveled and the footprints of the wood's critters were visible; deer, fox, rabbit. I looked around and wondered where they all were hiding as there were few places to remain incognito.
The sound of my breath and my foot falls were all the noise that existed. No birds chirping, no water lapping, no wind whistling. Just the quiet and solitude of a winter day.
Cole began to awake with a few adorable sighs as if he knew our hike was coming to an end. As he began to chatter we engaged in conversation about all the things that I wanted to teach and show him about the wonders of nature and how some day I hoped that he would enjoy getting out whatever the season to enjoy some fresh air!
Yesterday we had a dusting of new snow which carpeted what was left of our record snowfall. The untouched snowflakes sparkled in the weak January sun reminding me of the power of glare. The winter informational signs were posted and I stopped and read about the often overlooked creation and shape of the six sided wonders.
We started off on the Marsh Trail which circled around the lake. My footsteps were softened and muffled by the fresh layer of snow. Cole babbled from his perch up in the carrier, all bundled in his downy snowsuit. He has been enjoying his new ride and perspective and I have enjoyed becoming more mobile with him without the constraints of using the stroller.
As we found our pace, my movement steady, Cole quieted and within 10 minutes he had fallen asleep. I had my mind to myself to clear out the cobwebs and I took the peaceful opportunity to make many an observation.
The trail looped over the lake in places via a boardwalk. Only three months ago, the cattails that surrounded the water were swaying in the autumn breeze. Now they were frozen in place as the lake was a block of ice, literally. Their once smooth brown bodies now frayed and swollen with their innards puffing out like an old couch loosing its stuffing. The creak of the boardwalk was now not the give and take of the floats that kept it above water but of my weight pressing the wood against the icy surface.
The big looming trees looked frail and weary posing stark and naked against the winter sky. The newly fallen snow lay punctured on the sharp brambles and branches, their hardness to protect those who would turn supple and green again in the spring.
As I continued on up the Pine Trail and we made our way through the trees, the trail was less traveled and the footprints of the wood's critters were visible; deer, fox, rabbit. I looked around and wondered where they all were hiding as there were few places to remain incognito.
The sound of my breath and my foot falls were all the noise that existed. No birds chirping, no water lapping, no wind whistling. Just the quiet and solitude of a winter day.
Cole began to awake with a few adorable sighs as if he knew our hike was coming to an end. As he began to chatter we engaged in conversation about all the things that I wanted to teach and show him about the wonders of nature and how some day I hoped that he would enjoy getting out whatever the season to enjoy some fresh air!
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Something for the New Year...
I haven't had a lot of time lately to productively write and complete a worthwhile post. Ideas come to me at random moments normally while I am unable to capture them on paper or via my cyber pen. I say to myself that I will remember those quick flashes of insights but I never do *sigh*. So to put something on the board for 2008 in my quest to post every seven days, I am including the statement below which I got from a book I just finished. It took me 9 weeks to read the 400 pages *sigh* as I was only able to read 10-12 pages a few nights a week before I succumbed to my daily fatigue.
From "Because I said So" by Kate Moses
"Learning to surf is a lot like learning to mother. I have the gear, I understand the theory and I have occasional success. But the ocean doesn't stay still and neither do kids. Stable ground exists but only under powerful ever changing currents. Paddling out takes strength, persistence and the ability to roll under the crashing waves. I have days where I don't think I'm going to make it only to forget my worries as the sun shines in lighting up my kid's faces making me smile. I have the rest of my life to get this parenting thing down, meanwhile I am wowed by my kids laughter , amazed at their brilliance and the love that surrounds me"
From "Because I said So" by Kate Moses
"Learning to surf is a lot like learning to mother. I have the gear, I understand the theory and I have occasional success. But the ocean doesn't stay still and neither do kids. Stable ground exists but only under powerful ever changing currents. Paddling out takes strength, persistence and the ability to roll under the crashing waves. I have days where I don't think I'm going to make it only to forget my worries as the sun shines in lighting up my kid's faces making me smile. I have the rest of my life to get this parenting thing down, meanwhile I am wowed by my kids laughter , amazed at their brilliance and the love that surrounds me"
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Christmas traditions...
Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, Christmas Eve in particular. For as long as I can reach back into my memory, I always loved sitting in the dark on Xmas Eve, watching the tree twinkle with its lights and sparkle with its ornaments, absorbing the peace and calm before the spirited festivities began.
I have a multitude of notable Christmas memories, here are some to share:
I remember Dad stringing the lights on our trees, I remember Abby our cat mingling around and spending most of the month of December underneath it, I remember visits to Santa at LuLu Country Club, I remember Mom baking dozens of butter cookies using the pastry bag and creating gingerbread houses, I remember getting dressed up and going to NYC on the train for the day when Dad worked there for his company's family holiday party, I remember lighting candles ever so carefully during Xmas Eve church service, I remember goodies placed on the hearth and notes written to Santa (and the crumbs and soot left behind by him the next morning), I remember the feeling of anticipation that my sister and I had as we scurried to bed so excited about Santa coming while we slept, I remember squinting at the bright lights of the video camera as Dad captured us running down the stairs at some ungodly early hour on Christmas Mornings, I remember kitchen sets and doll houses and bikes, I remember stockings brimming over with surprises, I remember so very much and cherish that I have those memories.
Now that I find myself a parent, I want to create traditions and holiday moments for Cole, so he too will be able to "remember" some day as I do about my childhood Christmas' holidays. I look forward to the years ahead when Cole becomes caught up in the magic and the wonder of Christmas and creates recollections of his very own.
I have a multitude of notable Christmas memories, here are some to share:
I remember Dad stringing the lights on our trees, I remember Abby our cat mingling around and spending most of the month of December underneath it, I remember visits to Santa at LuLu Country Club, I remember Mom baking dozens of butter cookies using the pastry bag and creating gingerbread houses, I remember getting dressed up and going to NYC on the train for the day when Dad worked there for his company's family holiday party, I remember lighting candles ever so carefully during Xmas Eve church service, I remember goodies placed on the hearth and notes written to Santa (and the crumbs and soot left behind by him the next morning), I remember the feeling of anticipation that my sister and I had as we scurried to bed so excited about Santa coming while we slept, I remember squinting at the bright lights of the video camera as Dad captured us running down the stairs at some ungodly early hour on Christmas Mornings, I remember kitchen sets and doll houses and bikes, I remember stockings brimming over with surprises, I remember so very much and cherish that I have those memories.
Now that I find myself a parent, I want to create traditions and holiday moments for Cole, so he too will be able to "remember" some day as I do about my childhood Christmas' holidays. I look forward to the years ahead when Cole becomes caught up in the magic and the wonder of Christmas and creates recollections of his very own.
Monday, December 17, 2007
My patience pass must have expired...
I do not want anyone who checks in on my blog to think I only write about the positive, uplifting and cheery aspects of being a mommy. Tonight, I sit down to craft a post after almost two weeks of not having a spare ounce of energy left at the end of my days.
Cole has decided that he loves me soooooooo much that he cannot be out of my line of sight. This means that he has become a newly attached appendage to my already weary frame. We are experiencing separation anxiety at its finest (which is an oxymoron of grand proportions). I have read and researched all about this phase and now bear the knowledge that the more secure an emotional bond he has to me the worse this anxiety can become. It is not because he is not exposed to others as I have made it an almost daily ritual to be around other babies, moms, his swim instructor, our mommy and me class moderator, all of whom he sees and is held by every week and I have our babysitter Brodie every Monday afternoon so I can disappear for a few hours. No, it is because my little guy is very smart and is learning object permanence which is that when I am out of sight, I still exist. However, he has yet to grasp the concept of time, thus if I leave his field of vision to grab something out of the refrigerator, he does not know that I will be right back.
All the experts say it shows that a healthy bond has developed and that in time, most babies who have separation anxiety actually become more independent than those who do not. To me though, it is like reliving his colic stage all over again. I say that because his behavior is inconsistent and unpredictable which makes planning a day very difficult. We can have a totally great day with no episodes OR a day where I literally carry him around for hours on end or listen to him scream when I put him down. It is taxing and on those days, I am running on adrenaline. When Cole had colic his first four months of life, I was given some miraculous dose of patience as I typically am not a very patient individual. It was a surprise to me but a very thankful one to get me through those 16 weeks. Now I feel the situation is similar but my patience reserves no longer exist. I am finding myself agitated and frustrated beyond belief. When he was an infant, I could put him down and he was not able to crawl or walk as he does now.
The sheer panic in his eyes is enough to melt my heart every time but the sheer amount of energy it takes to quiet that panic on a bad day is overwhelming. I know this will pass and I take solace in the fact that he has become very much the snuggle buddy but sometimes I just need a bit of personal space which is something you cannot explain to a one year old. Becoming a mom means making sacrifices so I grit my teeth and shed a few tears and just remember to be thankful that my little boy loves me so much!
Cole has decided that he loves me soooooooo much that he cannot be out of my line of sight. This means that he has become a newly attached appendage to my already weary frame. We are experiencing separation anxiety at its finest (which is an oxymoron of grand proportions). I have read and researched all about this phase and now bear the knowledge that the more secure an emotional bond he has to me the worse this anxiety can become. It is not because he is not exposed to others as I have made it an almost daily ritual to be around other babies, moms, his swim instructor, our mommy and me class moderator, all of whom he sees and is held by every week and I have our babysitter Brodie every Monday afternoon so I can disappear for a few hours. No, it is because my little guy is very smart and is learning object permanence which is that when I am out of sight, I still exist. However, he has yet to grasp the concept of time, thus if I leave his field of vision to grab something out of the refrigerator, he does not know that I will be right back.
All the experts say it shows that a healthy bond has developed and that in time, most babies who have separation anxiety actually become more independent than those who do not. To me though, it is like reliving his colic stage all over again. I say that because his behavior is inconsistent and unpredictable which makes planning a day very difficult. We can have a totally great day with no episodes OR a day where I literally carry him around for hours on end or listen to him scream when I put him down. It is taxing and on those days, I am running on adrenaline. When Cole had colic his first four months of life, I was given some miraculous dose of patience as I typically am not a very patient individual. It was a surprise to me but a very thankful one to get me through those 16 weeks. Now I feel the situation is similar but my patience reserves no longer exist. I am finding myself agitated and frustrated beyond belief. When he was an infant, I could put him down and he was not able to crawl or walk as he does now.
The sheer panic in his eyes is enough to melt my heart every time but the sheer amount of energy it takes to quiet that panic on a bad day is overwhelming. I know this will pass and I take solace in the fact that he has become very much the snuggle buddy but sometimes I just need a bit of personal space which is something you cannot explain to a one year old. Becoming a mom means making sacrifices so I grit my teeth and shed a few tears and just remember to be thankful that my little boy loves me so much!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Where do I begin?
Here I am on the eve of Cole's first birthday. This past week leading up to tomorrow has be an emotional one for me which I had not anticipated. I knew that this milestone would be an important event, thus so for so many reasons but the feelings that have welled up inside me have surprised me nonetheless.
I have been reading entries from the journal I have kept this year documenting the journey of becoming a parent and mom. I am so thankful that I have been dedicated to keeping my thoughts and memories as they occurred because my mind has somehow already diluted them. I assume the past fades to allow room for the future. Regardless, to read how I felt at various points throughout Cole's first year brought a rush of nostalgia. How is it possible that twelve months have passed since I labored and delivered our son? I do remember so keenly on this exact evening last December as the excitement grew (despite the pain and the unexpectedness of my emergency C-section) as Dave and I anxiously waited to find out what the gender would be of our baby. I had felt from the very day I found out we were pregnant that a little fellow was our destiny but until I heard the words "it's a boy", I could not 100% trust my intuition.
To define the past twelve months would be impossible. There truly are no words or sentiments to sum up what it feels like to welcome a baby into the world and watch it grow and change before your eyes. I have never experienced so many challenges, joys, frustrations or awe inducing moments as I have this past year. Cole has brought to my life a depth and dimension that only can be described as inspiring.
Despite fumbling at times as I navigate motherhood, I am proud, so proud of how I have managed the twists and turns, the curves and jumps, and the peaks and the valleys of Cole's first year. The myriad and dynamic changes to my life has brought me to a new high. The realization that everyday is a new day has taken on greater meaning for me as Cole shares his perspective on the world. It is so easy to take for granted minutes and hours as we as adults become numb and jaded over time. The sheer innocence of an infant came wipe that slate clean and bring a renewed sense of priorities and vision. I am so grateful for the lessons he continues to teach me.
I know he will not have a recollection of his first year but I will never forget it. Happy First Birthday Cole Roger Denham. I love you with all that I am. Thank you for making me a mom.
I have been reading entries from the journal I have kept this year documenting the journey of becoming a parent and mom. I am so thankful that I have been dedicated to keeping my thoughts and memories as they occurred because my mind has somehow already diluted them. I assume the past fades to allow room for the future. Regardless, to read how I felt at various points throughout Cole's first year brought a rush of nostalgia. How is it possible that twelve months have passed since I labored and delivered our son? I do remember so keenly on this exact evening last December as the excitement grew (despite the pain and the unexpectedness of my emergency C-section) as Dave and I anxiously waited to find out what the gender would be of our baby. I had felt from the very day I found out we were pregnant that a little fellow was our destiny but until I heard the words "it's a boy", I could not 100% trust my intuition.
To define the past twelve months would be impossible. There truly are no words or sentiments to sum up what it feels like to welcome a baby into the world and watch it grow and change before your eyes. I have never experienced so many challenges, joys, frustrations or awe inducing moments as I have this past year. Cole has brought to my life a depth and dimension that only can be described as inspiring.
Despite fumbling at times as I navigate motherhood, I am proud, so proud of how I have managed the twists and turns, the curves and jumps, and the peaks and the valleys of Cole's first year. The myriad and dynamic changes to my life has brought me to a new high. The realization that everyday is a new day has taken on greater meaning for me as Cole shares his perspective on the world. It is so easy to take for granted minutes and hours as we as adults become numb and jaded over time. The sheer innocence of an infant came wipe that slate clean and bring a renewed sense of priorities and vision. I am so grateful for the lessons he continues to teach me.
I know he will not have a recollection of his first year but I will never forget it. Happy First Birthday Cole Roger Denham. I love you with all that I am. Thank you for making me a mom.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
The ONE and ONLY Cole...
There are so many things that make Cole Roger Denham the ONE and ONLY Cole Roger Denham. As we approach his first birthday which is next week (HOLY COW!!), here are just a few of my favorite traits about him.
#1 His toothy million dollar smile
#2 The way he looks over his shoulder as he scurries towards danger with the "catch me if you can" twinkle in his eye.
#3 His utter glee at watching Tucker do anything
#4 His love of looking out the front and back door with both hands pressed up against the glass
#5 The fact that he knows when I lower him from his highchair after dinner that it is bath time. He hears the running water and heads towards the bathroom as I attempt to get his messy clothes off.
#6 That very much like his mom, he is way cranky after a nap until fully awake.
#7 The manner in which he explores and plays independently all the while very aware of when I enter or leave the room.
#8 When the tension in his little body eases, his breathing deepens and serenity takes over his face as I hold and rock him in the quiet of his nursery
#9 The determination and intensity in his expressions as he perfects any new skill
#10 The infectious giggle he has when he finds something unexpectedly funny
#11 His ability to beam at me with his contagious smile as I attempt to dissuade him from any number of dangerous situations with a stern "NO"
#12 The fact that his tone and inflection as he babbles is so appropriate in context that I am just waiting for a full sentence to come tumbling out!
#13 The fearless wonder he exudes as he views life from his unfiltered vantage point.
#1 His toothy million dollar smile
#2 The way he looks over his shoulder as he scurries towards danger with the "catch me if you can" twinkle in his eye.
#3 His utter glee at watching Tucker do anything
#4 His love of looking out the front and back door with both hands pressed up against the glass
#5 The fact that he knows when I lower him from his highchair after dinner that it is bath time. He hears the running water and heads towards the bathroom as I attempt to get his messy clothes off.
#6 That very much like his mom, he is way cranky after a nap until fully awake.
#7 The manner in which he explores and plays independently all the while very aware of when I enter or leave the room.
#8 When the tension in his little body eases, his breathing deepens and serenity takes over his face as I hold and rock him in the quiet of his nursery
#9 The determination and intensity in his expressions as he perfects any new skill
#10 The infectious giggle he has when he finds something unexpectedly funny
#11 His ability to beam at me with his contagious smile as I attempt to dissuade him from any number of dangerous situations with a stern "NO"
#12 The fact that his tone and inflection as he babbles is so appropriate in context that I am just waiting for a full sentence to come tumbling out!
#13 The fearless wonder he exudes as he views life from his unfiltered vantage point.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
So much to be thankful for...
It would be obvious to say that I have lots to be thankful for this Thanksgiving 2007. This evening I found myself giving thanks surrounded by my loving husband, my fabulous friends and my son. It certainly should not take a holiday for one to take pause and reflect on all that is good in one's life but it was a reminder nonetheless to do exactly that.
I truly appreciate my wonderful reality, becoming a parent this past year brings into perspective what I am grateful for in a more authentic way than I have ever previously determined.
I acknowledge how lucky I am to walk this maze of motherhood and I cannot express my gratitude enough that I have been given this path to travel. It is my hope to not let another year go by without respecting more often all that I have been blessed with.
I truly appreciate my wonderful reality, becoming a parent this past year brings into perspective what I am grateful for in a more authentic way than I have ever previously determined.
I acknowledge how lucky I am to walk this maze of motherhood and I cannot express my gratitude enough that I have been given this path to travel. It is my hope to not let another year go by without respecting more often all that I have been blessed with.
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