Wishful Slacker

Mama needs a noise machine

I was awakened twice overnight at 1 and 4 by the screechy scrawny cry of a newborn.  I was instantly alert, and looked in shock to the empty place in our bedroom where Ellie's bassinet used to sit.  I may have even experienced some type of ancient shriveled-up milk let-down, I can't be so sure.  Finally, once I had woken up enough, some sane part of my confused state reminded me, "She's in the other room, remember?  And she no longer cries like that.  She is 15 months old, and she wears her hair in a side pony and likes to bark.  That is not your child crying."

So no, we had not rewound the clock back 15 months.  Instead, we figured out (Jim slept through the 1 am feed but woke up at 4 am....hmmm things haven't changed there!) that our next door neighbors must have just had a baby. 

For them, it must be reassuring to live next to a family with a small child in a condominium setting where, while better than other buildings, most certainly some noise is going to slip through the wall.  We definitely felt and still feel some reassurance from our neighbors on the other side of us who have 3 children, because there is such an understanding between us.  And we, likewise, will understand for our neighbors on the other side with the new baby.  It just strikes me as somewhat ironic that, now with a toddler sleeping through the night (knock on wood), we are going to be woken up by a newborn again.  This is on top of the challenges we face with our wailing cat-child.

At the building's Christmas gathering this year, the old-timers kept commenting on how many babies and children are now in this building.  And it is true- it is almost bizarre the reproductive rate at this former pencil factory.  Perhaps there is a manufacturing spirit inherent in these pillars and concrete ceilings, whispering to us all in the night to meet certain quotas each year.  I was thinking though, at 4:30 this morning when I couldn't go back to sleep, that we should have all met, perhaps during a condo board meeting, and planned to all have our children at the same time.  So all the babies and all the adults could be up together throughout the night, disturbing no one, and when we got to the lovely stage of 12 hour sleep we could all slumber in peace.  This may have made for some contentious sleep-deprived meetings in the parking garage, but overall I think I may be on to something.

In lieu of that though, my still-present hyper-alert new mom psyche is going to need something to get her to sleep through a newborn's cries.  This mama is going to need a damn good noise machine. 

If anyone has any fancy new models that they think are super, I'd love to hear about it!

Big girl

Ellie transitioned into the toddler room at her daycare this past week.  Next week, instead of walking through the building to the infant rooms all the way at the back, we will be dropping her off in the toddler room, right at the front.  I have so many mixed feelings about this.  She is certainly ready for the toddler room- the toys, the schedule, the fact that she no longer will be navigating her uncoordinated toddler physique around small infants cooing on the carpeted floor.  But the saddest part is the fact that her teachers, the lovely women whom we gave our child before we turned and walked away for the very first time, will no longer be her caregivers.  It is quite an adjustment for Jim and me!

These past 15 months, it has often been the unexpected that leaves me grappling with the emotions of a mother realizing that her child is growing up faster than a science experiment pea plant.  The first toddling steps were not what brought the lump to my throat, necessarily.  But that day when I went to pick Ellie up from daycare after a harried day at work, and she walked over to meet me at the door, arms outstretched, for the very first time?  Yeah, that did it.

On Thursday I emptied the basket of clothes from Ellie's infant room cubbie and when I got home that evening I spread the contents on the floor, deciding what to bring to the new toddler room the next day.  Something took me completely off guard then.  Next to the infant-size striped socks and baby legwarmers was a plastic pacifier cover.  Ellie was never really in to pacifiers, but I remember we brought one to daycare, one year ago, in hopes that it would calm her when they laid her swaddled body down to nap.  I remember bringing the pacifier home a few weeks later and assuming that we had lost the cap.  And suddenly there it was, a sucker punch instigated by a simple piece of plastic polymer on a blue living room rug.  The formal realization that my sweet little girl, the small being whose warm head I kissed as we rocked to sleep countless times in the odd hours of morning, was no longer a baby.

That's when I got the lump in my throat.

What to do with Bunny One?

On a chilly April day, 5 month old Eleanor and I sat in our parked car while Jim ran into Toys 'R' Us.  I had clipped a coupon that gave a great discount when you bought two toys from the company Vtech, and the coupon was due to expire soon.

"Just see what they have and choose whatever," I suggested.  Several minutes later, Jim returned with a musical bath toy, and Yellow Bunny.  We didn't introduce them to Eleanor right away.  Soon after her 6 month birthday, it seemed that she finally might be ready for more than what dangled from her activity center, and I brought out the box containing the next stage of toys- stacking blocks, a shape sorting basket, and Yellow Bunny.

Yellow Bunny was more than a plush toy.  She came from Vtech, meaning that within her tummy was a battery pack nestled inside, sealed by a velcro flap on her back.  Each of her paws had a function.  One got her to enthusiastically cheer, "Clap your hands along with me!/Dance with me!/Sing with me!/ Playing with you is SO MUCH FUN! I looove you!!!", while another paw caused her to jump into a rendition of peekaboo.  "Where are you?  HERE I AM!"  And another setting switched her over into lullaby mode.  "I feel sleepy," she yawned, as quiet lullaby music emanated from her insides, and a yellow heart positioned in the middle of her white circular belly glowed and dimmed, glowed and dimmed, while everyone got sleepy and snuggly.

This is how we first used Yellow Bunny, setting her in a corner of the crib so she could sweetly sing Eleanor to sleep each night.  We soon learned of a new function of Bunny's.  If Eleanor awoke crying, the night light on Bunny's tummy automatically began to pulse, and her peaceful music came across the baby monitor to our ears.  Miraculously, Eleanor was often soothed back to sleep by Bunny's performance. 

We were fans, but at first Eleanor didn't seem like she would really gravitate towards Yellow Bunny as any type of lovey.  As the months went by, we began noticing something.  We'd flick on our video monitor, and would find Eleanor with her arms around Bunny's body, clutching and softly carressing Bunny's ears in the dark.  She began carrying Bunny around outside of the crib too, and with her usual stance, clutching Bunny around the waist or neck and squeezing Bunny's ears while she sucked her thumb.  On long car rides, all Eleanor needed was for Bunny to be on her lap and she was set.  Eleanor finally had a lovey.


One day, Eleanor would not drop Bunny as we headed out the door for daycare, so we brought Bunny with us.  She then wouldn't leave Bunny in the car, and so Bunny came inside.  Starting at age one, children at daycare could start to have an item in their cribs at naptime.  It won't hurt anything to try having Bunny at school, I thought.  I set Eleanor down on her feet in her daycare room, with Bunny snug in her grasp.  The other toddlers instantly noticed the newcomer, as though they had a built in radar system for these types of novelties.  Brent ran over to Eleanor and reached out his arms.  I heard the "pop" of Eleanor's thumb being yanked out of her mouth as she lost her grip to Brent.  Then Malcolm ran over, and he pulled on Bunny, and Trixie followed by Ava came running over, and like a loose ball in a football game they all scrambled for possession.  And my poor baby ran after them, arms out-stretched, with a growing look of panic on her face as Bunny drifted further and further away.  It broke my heart to witness this first experience for her, as mild as it really was.  We kissed Eleanor on the head, restored Bunny to her arms for a brief reunion, and once morning snacktime was served at the table I was able to hide Bunny out of sight in Eleanor's cubby for the duration of the day until we could get her safely home again.

As you can imagine, Bunny is looking a bit loved at this point.  Her yellow fur is faded and her ears appear to be a dirty gray instead of yellow.  At least once a week I notice a new spot on Bunny's originally-snow white belly, and try as I might to sanitize and surface wash Bunny's exterior I cannot get that dingy hue to go away.  I think it is here for good.


Last weekend, Bunny let us know that she was getting hungry for a fresh set of batteries by occasionally letting out a mechanical honk in the middle of a song.  Her stomach stopped glowing as well.  Just as he did during her last battery change, Jim used our mini screwdriver to open up Bunny's battery pack.  He popped in two brand new Energizers, tapped Bunny's paw, and- nothing.  Not one giggle, not one round of applause, just a hollow click came from her paw after being pressed.  No soft light glowed on her tummy.  Jim grabbed the screwdriver, swapped in two other new batteries, and...still nothing.  Bunny was silent.

"Uh oh," we said to each other, using Eleanor's favorite phrase.  We handed Bunny back to her, and she assumed her usual Bunny position with her thumb in her mouth and her fingers curled around Bunny's ears.  She didn't seem to really notice Bunny was different, but then I saw her chubby toddler fingers squeeze Bunny's paw.  "I think Bunny already fell asleep," I explained. 

That night, I hopped onto Amazon, and after three clicks of the mouse another bunny was being sent via two day shipping.  $14.  This is actually a good thing, I thought.  I can retire old Bunny, and now Eleanor will have a nice new yellow bunny that still works.  And, if new bunny is ever lost, we will have old Bunny on reserve.  Perfect.

New bunny (let's call her Bunny Two) arrived this afternoon.  I set her on the counter, pushing her back from the edge where Eleanor couldn't see.  Speaking of sight, I almost lost mine when Bunny Two came out of that box, she is so bright and sunshiney.  The white of her belly is spotless, and my fingertips sunk into the softness of Bunny Two's fur.  She is luxurious, the Lincoln of bunnies, and quite the catch.  Her checks are dabbed with two very bright bursts of rouge.  I didn't think Bunny One ever even had this blush, but sure enough, in peering across the kitchen to where Eleanor was clutching her, I saw two faint dots on her cheeks.  I think I had just assumed that they were stains.

A few minutes later, Eleanor became distracted by something in her bedroom right off the kitchen, giving me the opportunity  to snatch Bunny One up from the floor.  I set Bunny One on the counter, right next to Bunny Two.

And my heart melted.

There was Bunny Two.  Bright, enthusiastic, eager to start on the job.  And then there was Bunny One, not even one year old and already entering the world of coveted heirloom teddy bears, the ones with missing button eyes and stuffing poking out of fatigued seams, kept up high on a shelf or carefully positioned on a quilted bed every morning.  I looked at Bunny One, and I swear she looked back at me.  Sitting next to Bunny Two, Bunny One's smile was deeper, more genuine.  Her blotchy coat and discolored ears were signs of my daughter's love, love that even I am finally just receiving in hugs that come to me with a running start, and kisses formed by lips that quickly dissolve into smiles.  Bunny One?  She's been getting Eleanor's love this whole time.

Did Eleanor really need Bunny's music and songs?  They were really nice to have, sure, but maybe there were times when Eleanor just wanted to sit and not clap, or read a book and not play peekaboo.  Just maybe.  And as much as we appreciated Bunny's lullabies playing to a restless infant at two in the morning, there were also plenty of times when "THERE'S A TRIANGLE ON MY PAW!" screetched across the baby monitor and bounced off our pillows like a pinball, the effect of Eleanor rolling on top of one of her buttons in her sleep. 

I took a picture of Bunny One next to Bunny Two and sent it to Jim, with the caption, "I just can't do it."

When I was little, I lined up all my stuffed animals and one by one loved each of them as my favorite for one week before switching to the next one in line.  I wanted them all to feel loved, and the more of them I loved, tucked next to me under the covers and curled around my head, the cozier I felt.  My sister and I had a recurring nighttime game of make-believe, where our bed was a boat and we, with all our stuffed toy children, were together in the dark night, bobbing in the waves.  All the things I love in life, Christmas or snow days and summer rains trapped indoors, give me that feeling of belonging, that sense of coziness.  And wouldn't we all love to be loved like a teddy bear in a child's arms?  To be that very special someone...

So Bunny Two is now up on the top shelf in our closet.  She can serve as our back up, if God forbid something happens to Bunny One, or if Eleanor one day asks, "What was that song that Bunny used to sing, Mom?"

Or maybe, Bunny Two can one day be passed on to a little friend, and just maybe, if she is loved enough, she will become that child's Bunny One.

From The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

 The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.

 

Baby Gear Lingo

 

I am home and trying to pack in prep for our drive to Michigan tomorrow.  Here is a series of text messages that I just sent to Jim:

Me: Do you know where I put the white plate insert to the travel high chair?  I had put it in the dry bar but must have moved it since.  Awesome. 

No answer (because Jim is working)

Me again: The green cover won't fit over the blue piece without the white part, apparently.

No answer (because Jim is working)

Me again: Not a huge deal, but it'd be nice to not have to wash it all from scratch each time we go somewhere.

No answer (because Jim is working)

So, anyways, I have a couple of thoughts on this one-sided texting conversation.  1) All of these thoughts about random toy pieces or stroller straps or sippy cups are in my head all of the time, and I think I am going crazy because of it.  2) Once Jim does get these text messages, he is going to know exactly what I am talking about.  And I think that is pretty darn amusing.  When else in our lives would we have understood that "the green part doesn't go on to the blue part without the white part" without needing any more explanation? 

And yes, I did originally keep this missing high chair part under the dry bar, along with all the cocktail glassware that we use so often now with all the parties that we throw. 

Seriously though, where the hell is it?

Here is a picture of our stroller, filled to the brim with the first load of gifts, snacks, gifts, snacks, and more snacks.  It reminds me of the Grinch's sled after he has stolen from all the Whos down in Whoville.  All I need is a skinny little dog with antlers taped to his head.  Oh Major....

 

Addendum!  Jim text back! 
Jim: It's above the fridge

And there it was!

Santa! I know him!

Dear Eleanor

 

Friday, November 11, 2011
12:48 pm

Dearest Eleanor,

You were born at 12:58 pm on Thursday, November 11, 2010, one year ago at almost this moment.

Just now I rocked you to sleep, and instead of quickly transferring you to your crib I continued to rock with you so that I could feel the weight of your sleepy head on my shoulder.  It reminded me so much of our early days together, when you would fall asleep in my arms after nursing.  I would scootch down on the couch and we would nap together, my sweet little baby and me.  Often Major joined us, making our little nest even warmer, while winter made frost on the windows.  I knew that those cuddles would eventually be replaced by real hugs and laughter, with you pointing to your mobile's movie playing on the ceiling of your bedroom.  And yet, here we are, and it is so hard to believe how lucky Daddy and I are to have such a beautiful little girl as you.

It is now 12:58.  Happy birthday, Sweetheart.

The ways that you have added joy to our lives are immeasurable.  I love you more than I ever thought it would be possible to love, and even with that I continue to love you more and more each day. 

I hope you always understand how very special you are, not just to Daddy and me but to your whole family.  I want to take each day with you and treasure it, and at the same time I cannot wait to see who you become- as a 3 year old, as an 8 year old, a 13 year old, an adult.  I can't wait to witness you explore your interests, and to find a hobby or activity or career that enlightens your life.  And I know we may not always get along, but I pray that we can always get back on track.  It is impossible to think that one day we may disagree, but I think it is inevitable :-)

You had a very nice 12th month.  We met Aunt Piper and Aunt Stacie at an apple orchard and got some fun pictures of you with pumpkins.  We went to Aunt Beth and Uncle Avery's and celebrated Cameron's 6th birthday with them, Grandma, and Lila.  You participated in the Halloween parade at daycare, and impressed everyone by walking the perimeter of the building in your duck costume, while holding my hands.  We had a great time at the Roscoe Village Halloween party, and you got lots of candy Halloween night when we went trick or treating. 





You are now an independent walker, which is so exciting for your daddy and me to see.  We got you a wooden puzzle which you opened this morning and really enjoy.  You kept banging the pieces LOUDLY on our coffee table, and even tried fitting the pieces back into their slots.  You now say "ma ma" and "da da" with meaning.  When Daddy comes home from work you shout "Da da!" and move to the door as quickly as you can.

You have become a very sweet and content little girl.  You play on your own very well and love books.  You hold out Cheerios to us with a little smile that says, "Here you go!"  You are patient when I take you grocery shopping.  You continue to love Major to bits, and he has been very sweet and gentle with you while you learn to be gentle and soft with him.  You like to bang his kennel door open and shut even while he naps inside.




Grandma and Grandpa Walker are on their way here from their cottage, and tomorrow Aunt Beth, Uncle Avery, Cameron, Lila, Grandma Rhodes, Aunt Piper, and Aunt Stacie will come over to celebrate your birthday.  Daddy and I made you a little cake to dive into.  We have decorated the house for your first birthday, and last weekend I put together a special photo garland for you.  I chose one picture from each month of the past year, and strung together all the pictures with ribbon.  We hung it in our living room, and you can stand in front and see how much you changed.  It is lovely.


With that, my darling, I think I will end here.  It has been such a joy to write you each of these months.  You are amazing, and Daddy and I love you so very much.

Thank you, Eleanor, for making this the best year of my life.

My love always,
Mom
xo

Why the CMA's make me weepy

I keep seeing commercials for this year's Country Music Awards, which take place this Wednesday night, November 9th.  Each time the commercial airs (always catching me off guard), I come close to shedding a tear.  Literally.

Last year, the CMA's were on Wednesday, November 10th, and I watched them from our labor and delivery room at Prentice Women's Hospital.  Jim had run back home to grab our suitcase (it had given me pause, hand on the front door knob, ready to leave for the doctor's office.  Should I bring our suitcase, just in case?  Don't be silly, I said to myself.). 

It was already dark out when we left our doctor's, following his orders to go to the hospital to be induced.  The city glowed outside our hospital window, and under any other circumstances I would have looked to see the view (Jim told me later that we faced south).  I was filled with such feelings that night.  I don't think there will ever be a way to describe them, and those moments of quiet and calm, with my hands resting over my unborn child, have continued to flood my memory in the year since.  All by myself and charged with excitement and anticipation, I eventually needed a distraction.  And so I settled on watching the Country Music Awards. 

Amid the twangs and the fiddling and bluegrass beats, Jim and I text each other updates.  Me to him: Typical country music ballad- Someone young with an illness, living through their child's eyes, God watching over them, yadda yadda yadda.  Oh, btw, they just broke my water.  Him to me: Almost got double parked by a firetruck in front of our building.  Feeding cat and out the door. 

It has been a year.  I can't believe it has been a year. 

There are so many ways we have changed.  So many things we have learned.  We have a 12 month old, a little girl with her own personality, who likes to bounce and bop to music and is in love with a yellow stuffed bunny.  She is now walking and can give high fives.  How did we go from a newborn to a child who now lifts up each foot when we go to put on her socks?

I knew our newborn would not stay a newborn forever, but it sure felt like it at times.  I knew that I would eventually find myself again, how I was before our baby was born, but there were times when I felt I was doomed to a life of drawstring waistbands and hair scrunchies.  I knew that, eventually, I could re-enter into conversations with friends about topics unrelated to swaddling and diaper cream.  I knew all of this, I think.  Still, in the crazy whirl of this first year, buried in a fog of sleep deprivation, there were moments when I wasn't so sure we would ever return to "normal."

And that is just it.  We won't ever return to normal, because we now have a new normal.  My new normal is to wear a shirt with baby snot smeared on the shoulder.  But, at least my hair is done, so I move on with the day.  My new normal is stumbling into the baby's dark room in the early morning, seeing her smile from between the bars of her crib, and knowing that that is better than any extra sleep.   The mundane and simple have become bright and animated.  Look, A RED BLOCK!  A YELLOW SIGN!  THE NUMBERS ON THE ELEVATOR LIGHT UP! 

I knew none of this, sitting there in the hospital room, with the CMA's playing in the background.  I didn't know all the wonderful new friends we would make in the year, our wonderful new mom's group friends with their delightful baby boys, our daycare teachers, the other parents at Gymboree.  I didn't know how trying a new baby could be on a relationship, while at the same time making this year the best one my husband and I have ever had together.  We love our little family of three.

Back then in those late hours of November 10th I knew nothing at all.  I lay alone in the dimly lit room in the middle of the city, hand on my belly, with the knowledge that it was all about to begin. 

Happy Halloween!!!

Pumpkins!

 

Growing up in Michigan, many a beautiful fall weekend involved a trip over to the nearest cider mill.  Warm donuts, the churn of loud machinery pressing hundreds of apples into sweet succulent cider, the bees languidly slurping remnants from the rusty garbage pails in the dirt parking lot.  The most exciting landmark in the area where I grew up was Yates Cider Mill, a large red barn on the Avon River which even boasts a water wheel at the entranceway.  It is 10 minutes from my parents' house, and not one fall season went by without a visit.

Yates serves as the highest standard when it comes to the quintessential cider mill experience, so I understand that I will never find any match for it here in the Chicago area.  And there are many more traditions- the charming apple orchard, the playful pumpkin patch- that complete the picture of autumn.  I was craving some fall fun outside of the city and was prepared for something different than Yates.  Upon the recommendations of friends, we set out this morning for County Line Orchard in Hobart, Indiana.

It was rainy and chilly, but we headed out early to beat the crowd (and hear me out- an overly crowded orchard/cider mill is sometimes worse than not attending one to begin with, in my opinion).  The best part was we met up with my sisters- it was a 2 hour drive for them from Kalamazoo, and a one hour drive for us.  We didn't take the hay rides out to the orchards and the true pumpkin patches, but instead milled about the entranceway with the piles of gourds and rows of mums.  We grabbed ourselves some donuts (apple cinnamon and pumpkin flavored), a bag of apples, and some popcorn to bring home, and later on ate some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in our car with the aunties before parting ways.  The place was really starting to fill up as we left, and I can only imagine how busy it gets when the weather is really nice! 

Here are our baby pumpkin pics!  Today was the first day we put Ellie in this coat that was passed down to us from our friend Christina and her girls.  The whole day I kept saying, "Oh my GOD I love that coat!  Is that not the most gorgeous coat?"  Sometimes I think this baby wears better clothes than me.

Happy FALL!  The best time of the year!

Warning- what you are about to see are numerous pictures of the same child set among pumpkins.  It may be tedious, but how do you edit down photos of a baby next to pumpkins?  It is just not possible.

Thanks, but I prefer coffee