Wishful Slacker

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.

Hanging at the park

Ellie and I went to the park today on our way home from Walgreens. It was very mild out and surprisingly there was only one other child there. Of course, it was early afternoon and probably naptime for all the other children in Roscoe Village (meanwhile it is now past 5:30 and my child is flopping around in exhaustion on the floor...).

Jim surprised me this weekend with NEW iphones for us. Such a treat! We've been playing around with the cameras in these things, and I was texting pictures to Jim from the park. At one point he replied by saying that there are moments when he still can't believe that Eleanor is in our lives. I couldn't agree more, and I felt the same way watching her toddle around the playground.

We had friends over yesterday and it was actually difficult at times because Ellie was in need of a nap and into everything she could get her hands on. We were trying to decorate a gingerbread house, and it was just too much, even with Jim and me tag teaming our toddler supervising. We still enjoyed having everyone over, but in hindsight I should have just smeared frosting on a gingerbread man and called it a day in my decorating efforts :-). Then Ellie and I have a day like today, when we have great moments playing together AND I still manage to get things done (I made tomorrow night's dinner this morning, for example). I can't help but feel like the luckiest lady in the world to have such an amazing little girl in my world.

And I work very hard to not post every picture I take of my daughter on Facebook, just so you all know. :-)

Zoo Fail

On a cold and windy Chicago evening in December, 2009, Jim and I met each other after work outside of the Lincoln Park Zoo.  We were going to enjoy Zoolights, that annual Christmas light spectacle that seems to get even better year after year, the zoo emblazoned in millions and millions of Christmas lights, with ice carvers, hot cocoa, and Santa.

Instead, on that night we found ourselves standing at the black iron gates which were shuttered with a metal slap of finality.  Everything was pitch black.  And cold.  Did I mention it was cold?  "Damn..." we exhaled, our breaths melting into our heavy scarves.  "It's closed."  With a disappointed shrug, we turned and slunked to a restaurant.  "Why didn't we check the website?" we asked ourselves while slurping up noodles, "it must only be opened on weekends this early in the season."

I had completely forgotten about that evening.  But I remembered tonight, as we met at the Lincoln Park Zoo and stared at the black iron bars closed upon the even darker zoo behind them. 

"Crap...." we muttered, looking guiltily at the baby, bundled up in her stroller and wearing her ladybug zoo hat. 

At least we were not the only ones.  One poor Mom, pushing a small child in a stroller and holding the hand of a very impatient-appearing preschooler, slowed to a stop next to where we were standing. 

"It's closed?!" she looked at me in desperation.  "I had to run for the bus, get them all bundled up...oh my gosh how can it be closed?"  I then witnessed her trying to tell her son that the animals had all gone to sleep early tonight.  "I BET YOU TOLD THEM TO GO TO SLEEP!"  the son started to wail. 

I am thankful at these moments that we have a child who is of the age when explaining is not necessary.  Expectations do not have to be honored, at any point if Jim or I change our minds, we simply turn the stroller around with no argument.  Last weekend we took the train down to Macys on State Street, where, after glancing at their very, very disappointing window displays (which are usually so magical- what the hell, Macys?) we ventured inside to try to find Santa.  Ellie has not been to see Santa yet, and we were hopeful that this might have been her time to meet the big guy.  After roaming the first, seventh, and fifth floors, we finally found the line- nothing was signed, no Buddy the Elf was there to add any cheer, and after watching the parents who came out after seeing Santa (most rolling their eyes, most saying that it really wasn't worth the wait), we decided to call it a day and went home. 

So, in anticipation of the day when we will have a child who pitches a fit when we decide NOT to wait in Santa's line, this year, we will try again.  We will find Santa, somewhere....somewhere small and quaint and perhaps not in a department store.  And we will probably attempt Zoolights again, (checking that they're open before leaving the house), even though by the time the next weekend opportunity rolls around it may be freezing cold with a fierce wind coming off the lake and no available parking.

But we will try, damnit. 

And if we fail...well, at least this year, we won't have to hear about it the whole way home. 

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. 

Friend Date

I sometimes feel like I am practically prostituting myself when it comes to making other Mom friends.  I have talked to some of my other friends about this and they report feeling similarly, so I don't think I am alone here (and of course these other friends do not live nearby, hence my need to reach out to the locals). 

It might be that I pass them on the sidewalk, or at Whole Foods, or at the nearby baby store.  They are pushing a stroller, I am pushing a stroller.  They have a baby, I have a baby.  They look tired.  I look tired.  To test the waters, I pull out a Midwest smile and nod as I pass.  If I get any feedback, I may actually pull a "HELLO!" or a "GOOD MORNING!" out of my hat.  But quietly, and without making my voice too squeaky.  I don't want them to think I am desparate.

There have been times when I have done this in the past and gotten no feedback.  Not even any eye contact.  I take these dismissals to heart, and it probably sets me back several weeks in my enthusiasm to get out there and try again.  I am a bit over-sensitive when it comes to these social games.

A couple nights ago Jim and I made it out to dinner because Grandma and Grandpa were in town.  We had a great meal eating outside at a new sushi restaurant down the street from us, and across the aisle sat a very nice couple with a 10 month old girl who kept giving us the most adorable hammy smiles.  It was almost as though she sensed we were missing a baby at our table and needed to help compensate for that.  I clutched my glass of sake to keep myself from thrusting my cell phone number scrawled on a leftover bubble gum wrapper into the couple's faces and screetching, "CALL US!" 

But here is the thing.  On mornings when I am home from work, the baby and I get up and from that point on I am stuck in this crazy vortex of activity.  I try to spend some quality time with Ellie, but there are some days when there are so many other things to do- clean the house, laundry, meal planning and grocery shopping.  All of these things are incredibly challenging now that the baby is so active and mobile herself.  And when work is really hectic (which has been the case of late) then during the baby's naptimes I am trying to catch up on work stuff.  In essence, I sometimes feel that I am working ALL OF THE TIME.  I am either at work working or at home working.  And wouldn't it be nice on Monday at 10 in the morning if I could call a Mom friend and say, "Help me get away from the computer and the dishes and this week's Target circular!  Let's meet at the park, say, in an hour, okay?!" 

I took the baby to a play center last week for a 45 minute long class and we had such a good time.  I realized how amazing it is to just "be" with her, and to leave everything else behind us.  I need to do that more often, because I owe it to her and I owe it to myself too. 

A couple months ago I met a friend at a Mom's Night Out event organized by the Neighborhood Parents' Network here in Chicago.  It was a great night- a fashion consultant spoke to us, fashion-thirsty, tired-of-diaper-bags drooling women and ever since then I have been working on my closet (but in a good way, not a psycho Real Housewives way).  I would love to post in the future more about that night and the cool stuff we learned.  But ANYWAYS!  My friend had to leave a bit early, and I got to talking to some of the other moms sat at our table, and WE EXCHANGED PHONE NUMBERS!  I was so excited that night when I got home that it was actually a little sad.  Like my husband probably thought, Whoa, she was in even worse shape than I had thought...

This week there is another Mom's Night Out event and one of these new Mom friends is going to pick me up and we are going to drive there together!  Which got me thinking, wow, is this a date?  I think it might be.  At the end of the date are we going to say, "Hey, maybe we should do this again?  I had a really nice time!"  What if we don't hit it off?  Will we never contact each other again, which will make for an extremely awkward moment when we happen to enroll our daughters in the same Gymboree class? 

Actually, this woman seems extremely nice.  I really shouldn't worry. 

Really.

The Second Birth - Mamapedia™ Voices

I liked today's Mamapedia post and thought I would share :-) BTW, if anyone wants to meet for a glass of wine sometime CALL ME!

No, I’m not referring to having your second child . . . and I’m not pregnant. Haha. After you give birth to your first child and you come home and start figuring out your new life, that’s EXACTLY what it is. A new life. A new you. The old you is gone away. The new you is here, whether you like it or not.

via www.mamapedia.com

Bath tub reading

I have been having the HARDEST time posting onto this site recently.  This post, for example, is the product of three separate abandoned attempts to sit down and churn out something that has been dancing in my head the entire weekend.  Such actions have proven to be very difficult, especially now that Eleanor is moving ALL over our living room, which would be fine and I could let her be were it not for the sharp edges of our side tables and that annoying space beneath the couch that she continuously slides beneath.  It's a trap and our baby-in-residence has not yet mastered the ability to put her little body in reverse.  One thing I am learning about babies- they do not enjoy getting stuck.  But anyways, there is no big rush on the weekends, so why not sit back and watch this little mover as she covers vast amounts of space through the act of determined wiggling? 



But, again, when you've been hoping to create a blog post when an idea hits your head, like you used to in the good ole' days, but can't, it is like having an itch you can't scratch.  Once I do find the opportunity, I am often exhausted and my muse is squashed.  I set off this weekend to try and find a used baby playzone through Craigslist, so that the baby can have a little play area to herself with no immediate dangers around the corner, and Jim and I can actually simultaneously get ready on work mornings (gasp!) without one of us standing over the living room acting as a sentry.  We were in contact with someone and were all teed up to go pick one up this afternoon, when the seller emailed me late last night to say it was no longer available.  Oh, just drive a spear through my heart why don't you?!  Craigslist is coming up empty on any others (both for Chicago AND Detroit), so our baby hovering will continue (and I will never be on time for work again). 

The vast percentage of my reading over the past year has been from the baby genre, but I'm always in the middle of a book for recreation.  During my maternity leave I plowed through The Hunger Games trilogy (for new moms out there, I'd wait until your baby is at least 6 months old before tackling The Hunger Games.  For weeks I feared that the Capitol of Panem was coming to snatch my newborn from me).  After that I needed a change of pace, and in my quest to tackle some of the classics, I chose A Tale of Two Cities next.  I have been reading it for about the past 4 months and can now say that I am about 65% of the way through (or so says the tracker on my Kindle).  I CANNOT get myself through this book.  Each night before bed I am able to read about one paragraph before needing to call it a night.  And with that pace, each night when I "open" the book (what does one say when reading a book on a Kindle? I "turn on" the book?), I can't remember what has been happening in the section before, so need to rewind a couple pages to get caught up again.  And I need a reading group or Cliff's Notes or something.  Are the Marquis and the Monseigneur the same person?  What is the point of that lawyer friend who is always hanging around the doctor?  I just realized in typing this that there are Sparknotes online that I might need to read!

Yesterday morning the baby went down for her nap and I decided to take a bath.  One of my favorite nice things to do for myself is to sit in a hot bath with a good book and a beverage (sometimes it is wine, yesterday it was my morning coffee).  While the Kindle is likely not the best choice for anything aquatic, I have an ongoing paperback "bath time book," which at the moment is Barbara Kingsolver's High Tide in Tucson, a collection of essays.  Having a book of essays as your bath time book is really quite perfect- by the time you have finished reading an essay the water has gone lukewarm and the baby starts to stir from her nap.  Not to mention that your comprehension withstands reading gaps of several weeks (as much as I would enjoy taking a nice bath numerous times a week, it just doesn't happen). 

This is about the third or fourth time I have gone through High Tide.  It was first gifted to me in high school by an English teacher, and then we reviewed it in an undergraduate writing class under the direction of another favorite teacher (you know who you are <3).  This collection was also frequently mentioned during an essay class that I took at Story Studio Chicago.  I have found that anyone who likes these essays is someone I would like too.  My tub read yesterday morning was "Civil Disobedience At Breakfast" (found on page 85), and I forgot how much I love this essay about motherhood.  "...the motto of my youth blazed resplendent on my breakfast table, the color of Florida sunshine" is the sentence that clinched it for me the very first time I read it.  Barbara Kingsolver's writing is such an art, it sometimes takes my breath away. 

Combing through "Civil Disobedience at Breakfast" yesterday morning was even better than the first time I read it, because I now have a child of my own.  We are not yet at the point of tipping orange juice onto the breakfast table, but I know those days are coming (and I think it's hard getting out the door on time now????  Just you wait, Lindsay....).   Reading about Kingsolver's thoughts about her fragile newborn being an extension of herself (Yes! I get that!) to suddenly acquiring her own will and independence (who keeps getting stuck beneath the couch???) so resonates with me, even though we haven't hit the one year mark yet. 

Almost every single ounce of me has changed since having a baby.  I love my baby girl more than I could ever have imagined- it wells up within me at the slightest thought and in any situation.  At work, when I see a mother in clinic holding her child, I can sense my own baby's chubby-soft leg beneath my hand, or hear her sweet sighs as she softly squeezes my arm.  Pre-baby, I was never really distracted by or understood the depth of love that lay hidden in those gentle caresses between a parent and his child. 

I am a part-time working mom.  I think it is good that I am able to do all of this- to get away and attempt to regain myself as an adult doing the work that I spent so much of my twenties prepping for.  I am grateful for my work, but there are times when the act of sitting at my desk as though I don't have a baby seems like I am faking.  Are my working and mothering roles mutually exclusive?  That line between working and mothering becomes further blurred as I hide out in the corner of my shared office and pump, and then waste time walking all the parts to the bathroom to rinse.  In the past, discussions with my work friends often led to plans to catch happy hour across the street after work.  But nowadays if someone asks me what I've been up to, I am more inclined to reply, "well, I have been thinking about if we should try out the Baby K'tan or the Ergo carrier instead of the snap n' go when we run our errands."  If the topic isn't on baby, I sometimes don't even know about what to talk about instead. 

Friday evening as I drove the baby home from daycare, I passed a couple walking home from Pequods.  One of them clutched that characteristically wrapped cardboard plate of leftovers that I know so well, along a satisfied walk home that I used to know so well.  Jim and I would take turns holding that awkwardly shaped package of amazingness as we walked through the summer dim of street lights and looked into living room windows of the homes we passed.  As the couple crossed the four-way stop ahead of the line of cars that I had been sitting in for our entire trip home, tears sprang to my eyes.  I am not lying.  A couple walking home with their Pequods leftovers actually made me cry.  Immediately following this reaction was my thought that perhaps it is now time to shop for a babysitter. 

I do feel at times like I am going crazy with this transition, but at other times this new life feels as natural as putting on a pair of thick socks on a winter morning.  I love weekends spent with the three of us sitting together on the floor, yet an instant later I find myself yearning and missing that life of spontaneity and fun that we left.  I do think that this craziness is, for the most part, normal, and therefore continue to ease my way through these days.  I am thankful of so many things, particularly my husband for listening to my almost constant musings about being new parents.  And the ability to soak in the tub from time to time. 

So, on that note, we will continue on with our Sunday morning.  It will likely involve a myriad of baby toys, a lot of rolling over, and an occasional need for repositioning after reaching a dead end.  And perhaps a Pequods carry out....

For anyone interested in reading "Civil Disobedience at Breakast," I found it online through Google books :-)  Enjoy the day!   


 

A skunk, a ladybug, and a happy baby

We went and saw Dot & Ziggy this morning (click here to see pictures on their site), a play by the Chicago Children's Theater that is currently being performed at the Biograph Theater just down the street from us on Lincoln Avenue.  We got tickets through a Plum District special- $9 instead of the regular price of $18, plus I had a $20 credit through the site, so in the end our outing cost us a lovely $7!  The play is for the target audience of 0-4 years old, and we had no idea how little Ellie would react.  Well in the end she loved it and the three of us had a great time!  The "play" takes place in a large room and families sit on pieces of carpeting while the characters move all around the carpeted pieces.  Basically, the story is about a skunk and a ladybug who become friends, but first encounter a few conflicts.  For example, they find a dandelion and both want it at the same time.  Such a problem!  Well, along comes a SPIDER who calmly reminds them that they need to SHARE!  It was really, really cute and well done.  The baby really watched a lot of it too.  When Dot the ladybug skipped by the baby held her arms out and tried to touch her pretty tutu skirt.  She bounced on Jim's lap and squealed at the toddlers who were dancing nearby.  Occasionally when the action was occurring on the other side of the room Eleanor preferred to chew her teether rather than follow the storyline, but then again she's only SIX MONTHS OLD.  I think Jim and I have so been wanting to do these types of things as a family of three (remember, we're the couple who honeymooned in Disney World and sat through a Wiggles concert even before having kids of our own), that we were freakishly looking forward to seeing Dot & Ziggy.  :-)

My parents called us using Apple's Facetime this afternoon to watch the baby.  She was just not in her happiest place (no thanks to me, who tried showing my parents how the baby could momentarily sit up, and in the act of doing so the baby dove headfirst into the laptop.  Another "Mother of the Year" trophy to add to my collection....).  I kept trying to get her to laugh for them but it was just not going to happen.  An hour later Eleanor did finally break a smile, as you can see for yourself!

Eleanor laughing 5/14/11 from Lindsay Rhodes on Vimeo.

Reclaiming Mother's Day

To all you lovely mommas out there, a very Happy Mother's Day to you!  I hope that everyone had a wonderful day.  Here in Chicago it was just gorgeous out.  The weather could not have been more perfect and I don't think I could have asked for a better "first" Mother's Day with my sweet baby girl and husband (okay, sorry Major- and cat). 

Mother's Day and my family have a complex history.  My grandma died very suddenly on Mother's Day eleven years ago.  At the time it seemed almost cruel to lose one's grandmother so abruptly on a day meant to bring her close, and it has taken us all several years to gracefully move into a place of peace and acceptance when we remember that day and Mother's Day in general.  So it was overwhelmingly refreshing to look ahead at the calendar and feel true excitement at the thought of this year's Mother's Day.  I woke up early this morning to Eleanor's content babbles and felt like the luckiest lady in the world. 


Here are some pictures from our afternoon.  We went to the park for the very first time and were very happy to see how much fun the baby had being gently pushed in one of the swings!  She actually let out a few "weeeee!"'s as well.  The trip was so exhilarating for her that on our walk home she conked out in the stroller just as we approached Four Moon, the awesome neighborhood watering hole across the street from our building.  We made the delightfully impromtu decision to stop for some beer.  The birds chirped, the baby slept, and the sunlight glinted through green leaves overhead.  It was a great day to be a momma.     










Happy Mother's Day!

Priorities (and Baby Food)

Last Wednesday was a bad day.  Our house was a mess and I felt like I had a million other things to do- we were out of food and had no meals planned, the laundry was piling up, and there were too many dust bunnies to lasso by hand.  I was exhausted after having family in town and working, and truly did not feel like doing anything that required effort (other than taking care of that cute baby who lives here.  She always gets a pass).  Working part time can be a challenge, because I feel as though I am working two full time jobs at once sometimes.  I am never fully on top of things at work OR at home.  And in my mind, it doesn't make any sense for our house to be a complete dump when I am home two and a half days out of the week.  I recognize that this is my expectation of myself, and not my husband's or anyone else's.  But my self-imposed Scroogeness makes me trudge up the slippery and emotionally messy slope of completion, and I need to be honest with myself that I will likely never get there on most days. 

Jim and I had a good long talk after he got home from work that evening and he helped me talk out my frustrations and do some problem solving.  What I am working on right now is prioritizing (and taking time for myself without instantly falling asleep).  Perhaps we need to have cleaners come in and give this place a thorough scrubbing down every-so-often.  Perhaps it's fine to let the kitchen island pile up with junk mail as the week progresses.  I went to working part-time so that our baby would have more time with one of her parents during these precious early years of her life.  I have to remember that this is my number one job, not making sure that the dishes are put away.  The more refreshed and up to par I feel, the better Mom I will be.  And THAT is the scary part- I am now responsible for a little person and I can't let my craziness rub off on her just yet (better to wait until she's in middle school...)! 

In thinking of priorities, one of those household tasks that is very high on the list for both Jim and me is the preparation of good food.  And this takes me into the second part of this post.  Preparing meals gives us structure for the day, keeps us on track with the quality of our food intake, and in the end saves us from spending money on take out or other expensive options.  We love trying out new recipes, particularly healthy ones that we end up liking.  There is nothing as enjoyable as eating together after spending a day apart.  Family mealtime is such a pleasant experience, and now that we have a baby who will very soon be a child sitting with us at the table, we feel it will become even more important.

I have loved breastfeeding my baby more than I ever anticipated prior to her birth.  Breastfeeding was painful for those first three weeks, and then, click, it all magically fell into place.  I feel that Eleanor and I have such a connection during those times, even if it is at 5:15 am like this morning.  To see what a big, healthy girl she is and to think, "Wow, I did that..." makes me feel, well, really good, for lack of a more complex description (remember, I've been up since 5!).  It has taken a lot of effort- I pump every single morning and twice a day at my desk when I'm at work, which I actually enjoy because it allows me to pause and think of the baby.  I am fairly certain that we would have needed to supplement with formula if I worked every day of the week- Eleanor's bottle binging surpasses the yield of my little pump so I pretty much need to prepare all week long for her two and a half days without me.  I know breastfeeding can be a very difficult and frustrating experience for many women who struggle with their supply and other issues, and I am very thankful that for us it has been able to go quite smoothly. 

This leads me to the fact that my little baby is turning SIX months next week, and the thought of having to share her with solid food could have felt like the introduction of a third person into our food marriage.  But instead it is turning into something that is so enjoyable!  My very good friend tipped me off on the book Child of Mine- Feeding with Love and Good Sense by Ellyn Satter.  I've been reading it over the past couple months off and on.  The book helps you through the art and language of feeding your child, with a focus placed on the division of responsibility between you and your child when it comes to providing food.  What has really helped me are the author's thoughts on introducing food to an infant.  She encourages you to follow the baby's cues and to never force food onto your baby or create a battle.  There is a language to be followed too- you lean in with the spoon, and the baby leans in and opens her mouth in acceptance.  In addition, the author recommends waiting for some time before taking this step, again, by following the baby's lead. 

A few weeks ago I made up a small batch of rice cereal, strapped Ellie into her high chair, and tested her out by putting a smidgen on her lip.  The baby licked her lips and shuddered, so I unclipped her from the chair and we went about with our afternoon.  Last week, a couple weeks after our first attempt, I tried again, and this time the baby leaned in and accepted what I offered, but shortly after preferred to gnaw on her bib and stare at the ceiling lights.  Again that feed ended there.  Over the course of the next few days into last weekend we tried a few more times, and each time she leaned in and opened her mouth for more and more spoonfuls.  And now, that kiddo is flapping her arms in excitement as I head over to the high chair carrying the bowl and spoon.  It is really, really fun to watch her start this big new phase in her life.  She is already a fan of taking the spoon and putting it into her mouth HERSELF :-)  And what I really like is how much we make eye contact and communicate with each other while I feed her.  It is nice for Jim too, to now be able to join in on this connection with the baby.  Over the next few weeks we will start to slowly add to the rice cereal offering, and already we have some pureed apples and mangos in the freezer.  I am eager to see her explore all these new foods, my little baby trying her hand at the real world. 




Thankfully the Child of Mine book goes further into feeding toddlers and preschoolers, as I know that time can bring with it its fair share of challenges!  I can happily and selfishly report that our breastfeeding will continue on for several more months as we explore these exciting new tastes, though in the not too far future she will politely accept my offering as a small palate cleanser to whatever lip-smacking meal gets set at the table.  If it is shepherd's pie or a Pequods Pizza, I will hardly be able to blame her.

As you can see with the electrical plug in the background, this last photo also segues into the next big task we have at hand here on Roscoe Street.  BABY PROOFING.  Oh boy....