advice

When I first got pregnant, I joined this popular online community called Baby Center. It is sort of a hub for all things child and is actually a good resource for a lot of common questions. There are birth groups you can join where you can discuss things with other moms who have a child your same age (or who are at the same stage of pregnancy as you). There are also articles written by pediatricians on all sorts of topics. That way you can easily avoid falling into the "I read it on the internet" trap, since parents are free to post basically whatever they want. Having an MD back things up helps with validity (although some would argue that parents are actually better authorities on many topics).

I realized pretty quickly that there are many taboo issues that seem to ignite fiery discussion quite easily. Combustible words like immunizations, BPA, sleep training, bottle feeding, circumcision, epidurals, pacifiers. It is remarkable how quickly total strangers can tear each other apart for handling things differently than they would. It's also amazing how everyone thinks they are completely enlightened and doing things perfectly!

Everyone has an opinion. Especially every mother. And almost every mother is very quick to share her [correct] opinion about essentially every discussable topic. This isn't altogether a negative thing; I know that I have benefited greatly from the wisdom of countless mothers who have gone through each new baby stage before me. You can often find me begging for parenting advice from several people on any given day. But I find myself conflicted, wanting to follow every piece of advice.

For example, Jack had a bit of a hard time figuring out sleeping (or staying asleep, rather). The "cry-it-out" mothers told me that if I didn't let him cry, I was setting him up for a lifetime of poor sleep habits and all their accompanying repercussions. The "attachment parenting" mothers told me that letting him cry would break his trust in me and that the best place for him to sleep was in bed between Ty and I. When I finally did reach the end of my rope and let him cry it out during the first week of January (when we went from 10-15 night wakings to 1-3), I got emails from old friends about the negative effects of it. When I mentioned to friends that I let Jack sleep with me during a recent vacation, since he was so off-schedule anyway, I got eyebrow raises and warnings of spoiling from Babywise moms. The conflict is disorienting.

Simply put, I'm kind of embarrassed to have fallen into the trap of trying to gain the approval of other mothers. The measure of how I'm doing as a mother should be how well Jack is thriving, and what Ty and I discuss and decide upon. Advice has its place, and trust me, I am reliant on it. Advice from experienced mothers is what got me through that week in January when the child simply refused to sleep longer than 15-45 minutes at a time and I caught myself trying to order a new brain on Amazon. Letting him cry was the right decision for that particular week, and letting my baby sleep in my arms while on vacation was the right decision for that week. If another mother thinks I am irreparably messing up my child, she should just be pleased that that's one less spot at Princeton their child has to compete for. :) We're all doing our best here, aren't we?

five months

Baby Boy,

Really? Almost half a year has come and gone since you joined our family? Nah... I refuse to believe it.

Your personality has taken off this month. It is hilarious to watch how intent you are on solving all the world's problems. You will find your foot, and with a little furrow in your brow, concentrate on it and mumble displeasure at its foreignness. Then a few minutes later, I'll tickle you or make some ridiculous sound, and you're as wide-faced happy as you were serious just before. I love your range of emotions, already.

I don't feel quite ready to be feeding you solids regularly. I feel like breastmilk has so many more nutrients than any little can of smashed up peas that it's not necessary yet, but the other day we thought we'd try out a little bit of rice, just for texture. Oooh boy, that was offensive to you. I think I'm still apologizing for it. There was no crying, but a heck of a lot of cringing and flailing. So... we'll try again later. Sorry, son.

Sleep comes and goes. We finally let you cry it out for a little while, a decision that on the one hand made me feel guilty and on the other, restored my sanity. The first night, your dad was at the hospital working, so I was in the kitchen listening to you cry while downing chocolate at an alarming rate and talking to your grandma on the phone for support. You responded quite well to this, and have proven that you are capable of sleeping quite long periods of time! Yay! Although this week you started rolling over to your belly and sleeping that way, which has your dad and me freaking out. The first night you did this, we flipped you back onto your back probably 15-20 times throughout the night. The next day, a couple dozen experienced mothers convinced me this was quite a bit ridiculous, and so now you sleep on your belly sometimes. Will I ever stop being paranoid?

I love that you make people happy. If you're not overtired or, you know, ravenous, you smile so easily and just delight people around you. This hilarious old Russian man sort of followed us around the farmer's market the other day, commenting over and over again about how cute and alert you were. May have been a bit creepy, but it made him happy to see your gummy smile.

I keep telling myself that one of these days I'll really start making you take naps in your crib instead of in my arms, but I seem to not be able to find a good reason for it yet. I simply love cuddling with you. The other day, we were both so tired, but you hadn't fallen asleep quite yet. We both laid down together and I just traced your face until you fell asleep. You didn't move a muscle; you just let your little eyes close and then drifted off. It was one of those oh my gosh, I'm a mom and I love this more than anything moments.

Thanks for being my best little buddy. You bring so much happiness to your dad and me. I don't know what we ever did before you came into our lives.

love you,
Mama

cali road trip

It's been almost an entire month since I last wrote on here, and honestly, I can't really explain the absence. I think it might have to do with the fact that my life currently revolves around this teeny little boy, and, while I think he's pretty much the best thing on planet Earth, ya'll probably aren't interested in his every babble and nap. I have managed to make a full-time job out of stressing about his sleep (or lack thereof), and, let's be honest, no one but Grandma wants to hear about that. Heck, I don't even want to hear about it anymore. So it leaves me wondering if I have anything worthwhile to say. Not being at work anymore means I am fresh out of stories about octogenarians throwing applesauce at me, and since those tales have gone by the wayside, this blog just doesn't dazzle like it used to. ;)

I also have been struck by the stark reality that I don't have hobbies. I mean, sure, I've sewn quilts and done craftsy things that have put a check mark in the "domestic" box on my wifely resume. I also like to cook and will read an occasional book, but as far as the thing that I DO just for ME that defines who I am when I'm not being a mom or a nurse... I'm kind of sitting here shrugging my shoulders feeling a little sheepish, and... unaccomplished. So. I'm on the hunt for a hobby. Stat. Pinterest and Real Clear Politics don't count as hobbies.

In other news, Ty got a random vacation in mid-January that resulted in our taking a fun road trip all over California. We toyed around with the idea of doing something exotic or far away. Then we reasoned that people come from thousands of miles away to this here golden state every day, so we had probably better take advantage of its offerings while they were in our backyard. So we packed up the car, and off we went. Jack did great, mostly because we were never in the car for more than 3.5 hours at a time. The trip didn't break the bank either, thanks to it being off-season for basically everything, and the fact that I spent lots and lots of time on tripadvisor and yelp. We also shuddered at the idea of eating out for every meal and coming home several hundred dollars poorer and 10 lbs heavier, so we loaded up a couple boxes with fruit and cereal and goodies from Trader Joe's. Best way to travel. We'll be doing it again.

We headed first to Yosemite, where Jack got his first full breath of real mountain air. There was no snow, but it was still quite cold, which gave me a great excuse to shove the baby in a ridiculous puffy coat. We stayed in a quirky little inn about 45 min outside the park.

Then onto Sequoia National Park, a place neither of us had been before, but now one of our favorite places on earth. The Forest of Giants was hauntingly beautiful and quiet and inspiring. Yes, John Muir was the prophet of nature in his day, but who wouldn't spout poetry after visiting this place?! Gorgeous. We'll be back. We stayed in Visalia in a gorgeous B&B that boasted the best breakfast I may have ever had.

I spy with my little eye... a wee bebe.

We headed south to Anaheim/LA where we met my parents and went to the temple, the natural history museum, and Disneyland. I'm telling you, going to Disneyland on a Tuesday in mid-January is just about the smartest thing we've ever done. The weather was perfect, the lines were non-existant, the baby dozed peacefully in his stroller most of the time, and after a little obsessive planning on my end, we were able to do everything on our wishlist. Not to mention there was a Cold Stone in the lobby of our hotel. Darn.

There may have been a trip (or two) to Cafe Rio. Ty and I are trying not to be completely bitter at the fact that Southern California boasts SEVEN Cafe Rio locations, while Northern California gets no love. Whatever.

We stopped through quaint Solvang on the way back north, and I felt all proud to be Danish. I believe I'm technically more Danish than I am anything else, but I'm such a European mutt that it's hard to claim one nationality. But, for the day, I was a blazing Dane. Again, another gorgeous day.

Sorry if a naked little mermaid bothers you. I think she's quite classic. My friend addresses nude art here.

Jack did such a fabulous job, sleeping in a different place every night and spending so much time in his car seat (a feat we thought impossible a few months ago when a ride to the grocery store induced a full-on red-faced, breath-holding, arm-flailing emergency). Even though I had serious apprehension about taking a 4 month old on a trip like this, I'm glad we decided not to fret about it too much, and just pick up and go.

four months

Little Bug,

Dang, I must say, you have gotten unbelievably cute. And you were cute already. And the fact that I got an iPhone this month means the cuteness has been recorded even more faithfully. I take about 3 zillion pictures of you a day, most of which are promptly sent off to Grandma.

I love watching you grow and discover things. You have taken to grabbing things with all the seriousness you can muster, like you're taking a chemistry exam. You'll grab something, inspect it, give us a verbal analysis of it, then stick it in your mouth for taste-testing. Brilliant. I should have done that with my chemistry exams!

Your sleeping this month has been awesome, until... the past week or so. Actually, I'm not even gonna go there. Because then I'll start crying again, and when I cry my eyes get all puffy and my mascara runs, and we should probably spare everyone that sight. But I keep telling myself "tonight's the night" you're gonna sleep. It'll happen someday, I'm told. For now, though, you've got about a fifth of a normal mama.

I think you are getting HUGE, but they put you at 44% percentile for height and a teeny weeny 17th for weight! It means you get to stay in smaller clothes longer, which I love. But your tinyness doesn't keep me from regularly dressing you up like a little old man, a comment you get frequently.

You LOVE to be entertained. None of this 'sitting in someone's lap' thing. You need to be standing up or being walked around. You think you can actually sit up by yourself (as evidenced by the persistent crunches you do whenever you're reclining), but you are really 98% intention, 2% coordination in that department. Very cute. I love how inquisitive you are, but your dad and I agree that you will most likely be quite the handful once you're actually mobile.

I love you, sweet boy. I have been stretched thin this month and have been running on fumes, but there is nowhere I'd rather be than home with you. You are my little ray of happiness, even after a long, hard night. I can't believe how lucky I am.

Happy four months, kiddo.

love,
Mama

be more

Happy New Year!

This is my 500th post on this here blog. So, happy 500th postiversary to me. By the way, it is strange to me when people say they're celebrating their "4 month anniversary" or something because, really, anniversary means year. So... is there a better word for that? Luniversary, perhaps?

Anyway, the real purpose of this post is to talk about the new year. There is something invigorating to me about the turning of a new year. I know that's it's technically just some arbitrary date, so why not chose February 23rd or June 4th to get excited about. But, placebo or not, it's a date symbolic of newness and change and a fresh start and maybe a second (or 27th) chance at being a better human.

I know some people think that resolutions are stupid and get delight out of watching the gym triple its population the first two weeks of January, only to reach its steady, faithful number by February. And perhaps it's silly or childish to begin each new year with glee at all the wonderful things I'm going to accomplish. But I can't help myself. Each December 31st, I get out a paper and pen and categorize my goals. A bit of experience has taught me to be more realistic than optimistic, and it's yielded more success.

This year I had the usual on my list: exercise more, read more, cook more, do more. But this year I felt a true yearning to BE more. I want to be kinder, more reliable. I want to be spectacular. Not so that people will think I'm wonderful, but so that I can reach a potential I know I'm falling far short of. Aren't we all? I think something that has been inhibiting me from being more is the crippling, obnoxious, ugly habit of self deprecation. I think that being the usual teenager suffering from low self esteem, I fell into this habit early on and never let it go. Luckily I don't have the same self loathing I did in high school. I truly love myself and am happy to recognize fairly both virtues and faults. But the tendency to be self deprecating has lingered, and I'm ready to kick it to the curb. Any of you have that habit? Feel free to join me. I believe the trash is picked up on Tuesdays.

Why is it that we are so bad at accepting compliments? We work really hard at something only to have someone tell us how great it is, and then we deflect their kind words. We make excuses for why we aren't as pretty or smart or fabulous or witty or profound or talented as the person next to us. We use humor or sarcasm to put ourselves down. We marvel at our friends' perfect lives without acknowledging their flaws, while dwelling on our imperfections without acknowledging our own beauty. It's exhausting to worry about not measuring up. So let's not, shall we?

I'm not saying we should join hands like Whos and sing our own praises, but rather, be better at taking compliments. Be satisfied with the 4 things we were able to check off our to-do lists. Don't play down our strengths or our hard work like they're nothing. Be happier in general with who we are.

Maybe it's just me who has to work on this. But I'll shout a proverbial "Who's with me?" into this vast blogosphere and assume that there are people out there who need to be a bit kinder to themselves this year.

christmas carol

Tyler's Grandpa Fred used to read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol to his children and grandchildren every year. Ty wanted to continue the tradition, so on Sunday night, he pulled it down off the shelf and started reading it to Jack. I told Ty that we'd better appreciate it, because he's likely more interested in it (or tolerant of it) this year than he will be for the next 18 or so.

This baby loves books. And his yummy fists.

And he loves his daddy.

Merry Christmas.

four years

Four years. Wow.

I remember, shortly after we were married, reading the blog of one of my dearest friends. She had a wedding photo of them on her sidebar with the caption, "If the first year is the hardest, we're living the good life!" In that vulnerable moment, I sobbed, wondering when our "good life" would start. I had a serious case of the First Year Sucks blues - adjustment issues mostly having to do with Philadelphia's lonely winter and the cruel grasp of depression.

But time went on and I got better and the good life settled in and kicked up its feet and made itself feel right at home. And this boy was nothing but patient and tender and loving through it all (that is no small feat!). He's never raised his voice at me, never asked me to change anything about myself, never made me feel guilty for the mood swings or the difficulties of those early days, never said, "I wish you would just _____". So these past three years have flown, so much sweeter and easier and richer. And literally each day I realize, again, how much smarter the 23 year-old me was than I could have imagined to have snagged this guy. My better half, the sweet and tender father of our beautiful son, and my dearest friend. It's amazing to me that the longer you live with a person and the more you learn about them and the more your soul becomes inseparably woven into theirs, the more you really can't get enough of being with them. I love this man with all my heart. Being married to my best friend truly is the greatest blessing of my life. Thanks for choosing me, Tyler. You are my rock.

Here's to a zillion more years of togetherness, of learning and growing, of adventures and compromise (meaning more trips to New York for you, and more trips to National Parks for me), of seizing the day and loving the moment, of finding joy in our little family.

Photos by the Wonderful Anna Page

Happy Anniversary.

deck the halls

So the tree is up and lighted and lovely and the fresh wreath purchased from Trader Joe's and hung in all it's smelling glory on the front door. The Christmas cards just arrived and are being addressed, and I only have a few remaining gifts to purchase. AND, I have made it 18 days into December only having consumed about 3 quarts of egg nog (singlehandedly, and always diluted!) and not a single cherry cordial (or what was likely a cherry in a previous life but has now been reduced to red syrupy goop embalmed in waxy chocolate).

I have also managed to avoid these first 18 days of December without hearing a single hair-splitting, overly ambitious rendition of O Holy Night, though I have not escaped hearing My Favorite Things on the radio a zillion times. As much as I love Barbra Streisand, she could sing it to me 100 times and I will not be convinced that this is a Christmas song. I know many of you agree with me.

Jack and I went on a date last week to the Stanford Mall while Tyler was at work. We gawked at lovely Christmas decorations at Macy's and especially at Williams-Sonoma, and we enjoyed hazelnut hot chocolate from Starbucks and maybe even a festive cupcake from Sprinkles. Or maybe I did all of that while Jack happily dozed. We even contemplated stopping by Santa's overpriced chair for a picture or two, but Santa was looking a little unwell and perhaps short of breath, so we passed and went to Pottery Barn Kids and gawked some more.

Yes, 'tis the season.

A dear friend from church sent out a list of her tippy top favorite Christmas things to do in the Bay Area, and one of them was to visit a local Christmas tree farm. We paid the farm a visit ourselves last week, found a lovely small and simple tree, took some family photos (which included an old man plaid shirt for Jack - small pot belly and all), and were floored at how beautiful the area was. The beach was literally across the street from the farm, so you can imagine how gorgeous that drive down Highway 1 was. It's moments like that when I suddenly wake up with a jolt and remember that I live in this lovely place called California.


Despite several singing obligations which have required many many hours of rehearsing Christmas carols, I had a hard time getting into the spirit of the season this year. But sitting here in the soft glow of our Christmas tree lights (our very first live tree - how grown up are we?!), my snoozing boy in the other room in his striped Christmas jammies, and a beautiful and simple manger scene from Poland on the table in front of me, I think it's about time I nestled into some Christmas joy.

So goodnight, all. I hope your last few days before Christmas are cozy and sweet.

the muppet

I know, I know. You guys are all just dying to know how Jack's poor, neglected, forgotten older brother Ody is doing, aren't you?

Happy to inform you that he is doing just peachy.

I was curious how Ody would do when we brought the baby home. Some of you saw this picture below on Facebook already, but Ody has been kind of protective of Jack. It's pretty adorable. Tyler left for work one day and said, "Hey Ody, take care of the baby for me while I'm gone," and no joke, after Ty walked out the door, Ody did this.

He still pouts and lets us know how neglected he feels (we should have named him Eeyore and permanently fastened a pink bow on his tail), though honestly he's getting more attention now than he ever was before since I am home all the time. But he does really well. He gets upset if he can hear Jack crying and it appears that no one is doing anything about it. He'll walk up to the crib and shove his furry snout in between the slats of the crib to check on him.

Ty teasing Ody with some Cold Stone. This was actually before Jack was born, hence the birthing ball IN the crib.

He just got a mega haircut due to his tendency to develop matted fur at an alarming rate, and is now freezing cold in his nakedness. I called him a spindly chemo dog tonight and I think he didn't appreciate the nickname. Maybe Ty will actually let me buy him a sweater.

So yes, admittedly, my life isn't centered as much around Ody as it used to be before Mr. Baby came along, but we sure love this little dog. He has been so gentle and curious and careful, and besides trying to eat the Christmas ornaments and drink the tree's water, hardly mischievous at all. :)

three months

Oh Sweet Little Bug,

Three months old - can you believe it? Your mama turned 27 this month, so Grandma and Grandpa are probably saying the same thing. "Our baby - 27! Can you believe it?" I'll skip the part about time going too fast and all that, lest I sound like a broken record.

But really? Already?

You really are just too cute for words. You've discovered your hands, which I think it absolutely hilarious. This means that most of the time your hands are up like you're about to get in a fight, then you stare at your little fist until you manage to punch yourself in the face. The whole ordeal usually ends up with you smacking loudly on your fist (oh, and the drool has officially come in full force!).

Recently you've also developed a fascination with my face. You could win any staring contest because you really can look me right in the eye for the longest time. All I have to do is say "I love you" in a ridiculously saccharine voice to get the biggest smile out of you - a smile too big just for your face, so you involve your shoulders and arms too. It makes my heart burst just to think about it.


We had a rough little patch this month, kiddo, in terms of sleeping. For about 5 straight nights, you'd wake up every 10 to 60 minutes. The longest stretch either of us got during this time was one single 1 1/2 hour stretch. Plus this was during a busy weekend of Christmas concerts and obligations, so I couldn't just bum around in my jammies trying to make up for it (and Daddy was on night shift and wasn't around to help out!). Oh boy was I sure tired! But the night before my birthday, something clicked and you slept, well, like a baby. Your Dad (who had finished his night rotation by now) took you and fed you a bottle of my milk the one time you woke up, giving me a solid eight - EIGHT! - hours of sleep. It was magical. It's as if you knew I had hit my breaking point and you wanted to butter me up for my birthday. It worked. We might try to repeat it sometime.

Day after day I marvel again at how wonderful it is to be able to stay home with you. Who knew a three month old could be so entertaining? I love laughing with you and reading and singing to you and enjoying every moment being your mother. Every now and then, a co-worker will contact me on Facebook and tell me they miss seeing me at work, and then I feel guilty at how little thought I've given my old job. I am just now toying around with the idea of going back to work two measly days a month, and yet thinking about spending 16 hours away from you during all of January just makes me so sad. We'll see if I can actually do it. Although I'm sure Dad would love the manly bonding time.

You and your dad are the light of my life, sweet pea. I can't believe it's already been three months since you made your way into our lives, and yet it really feels like we've known and loved you forever.

I love you to the moon and back,

Mama