Mommy Ever After » baby book

(double) Stats

mommyeverafter — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 03:57:49 +0000

Tonight, I just so happened to have stumbled upon a post I wrote 9 months ago, called stats,
in which I detailed her most recent milestones, in exchange for my inability to articulate how I felt about her turning 9 months old.
Well, guess what?
another 9 months have passed.
This week, we celebrated her 18 month birthday.
And no, I haven’t yet found the words.
Of course she is the breath in my lungs,
the sunshine on my skin,
my everything and my best thing…
but how can I put all that I feel about her,
all that she is to this world,
into plain words?
I cannot, simply.
So, once again, I will rely on stats to help me to tell my tale.
As the Pediatrician said today at her check-up, my girl is long and lean (a.k.a. supermodel in training. After she wins the Pulitzer, of course!)
She is starting to transition from walking to full-out running.
She talks in 2 and 3 word sentences,
AND SHE SINGS.
Listening to her sing “Sunshiiiine only Sunshiiiiiiine” is just light personified.
But seriously, the girl never stops talking.
(Tonight, I overheard her, as she fed treats to her puppies, and she said, “Ziggy? Food!”
(oh don’t even get me started on how she switches out the “d” for a “k”…I promise, we keep it PG around here, but the kid has got a mind of her own..)
And she continued, “Mhhmm. Yeah. Mmmmm. Num num num. Food (/k). Yeah! Thank you, Ziggy. You’re welcome!”
I melted into a puddle, when she said “You’re welcome”. And then I gnawed on her thigh, for good measure. She’s delicious.
Anyhoo,
So yeah, she walks and talks (see how proficient I am at detailing her stats?!)
She loves music and dancing,
drumming and strumming,
and she hums to her babydolls to “put them to bed”.
And I can’t just breeze over the whole “babydoll” thing. She lives for her dollies. Her stuffed animals. Her “Mammals”, as she says (quite accurately, might I add?)
She reads her books, and while she’s still only at a fourth grade reading level (ha! I kid! She’s totally pushing sixth grade!) she communicates so beautifully with her words that I always know exactly what she’s talking about.
(Even when she calls “food” “fook”. Unless she’s just pissed at me. Maybe she really is just saying “fook”. That’s always a possibility.”
When we ask her what daddy drinks she says, “Foffee” and when we ask what mama drinks she says, “Tea” and she’s just so cute that I may switch from tea to her.
Her favorite foods are peas, lentils, mango, vanilla ice cream, dark chocolate covered raisins, french fries and frozen bananas, which she calls “ice nanas”.
She loves running around outside with her dogs,
throwing kisses to animals and trees,
feeding the fish in my parents’ pond,
swinging, sliding and making mischief.
After just shy of 18 months of breastfeeding, she is now weaned.
She now (finally) sleeps in her crib,
but we find time (HOURS) to snuggle every day.
She makes people smile everywhere she goes.
Seriously.
And not just because I’m her mama.
She’s such a nice little girl and I am so proud to call her mine.
So, there you have it.
9 months after her first 9 months, her stats.
She may be much bigger now than she was 9 months ago,
and she may wear shoes
and brush her own teeth
and swear
but she’s still my little baby,
my one and only,
my play-mate,
my soul-mate,
my girl.
In Judaism, the number 18 represents “Chai”, which is symbolic of life, and often used for good luck.
Well, my girl was born on the 18th day of April.
She is 18 months.
And she is my luck
and my life.
So, little girl,
L’chaim.
I love you so.

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Coming back ’round again.

mommyeverafter — Tue, 24 May 2011 01:31:38 +0000

Here I am.
I’m back from a wri-atus of sorts.
You see, it was nearly a month ago now that I made the decision to close the door to this chapter.
Not because I didn’t love writing my “ever after”.
I did.
I loved chronicling my days with my little one;
I loved the intimate relationship I was able to develop with people, new and old; near and far;
I loved reminding myself to remember;
I loved writing, again.
But, part of me got scared. I worried about living some parts of my life so publicly. I worried about my family’s exposure. And so, I resigned myself to the fact that this good ol’ baby book of mine would be tied up with a neat little bow,
as I’d craft the perfect farewell post,
thanking everyone for the incredible support,
and wrapping up a year in the life of the Land of Mom.
Except, I could not bring myself to write this goodbye.
I wasn’t ready to let go.
And, to be honest, I missed you. I missed this.
I missed writing about the funny thing my girl did that morning.
I missed sobbing as I typed a memory that brought me to my knees.
I missed putting my feelings into words, and reading those words
and rereading those words,
and reliving all that was so holy to me.
And so, here I am.
~
Last week, a dear, beautiful mommy friend of mine and I took walk.
She is someone very special to me, and due to a series of circumstances beyond either of our control, we had not been able to really catch up, one on one, for some time.
As we strolled, pushing our babies over bulky pads of grass and by the park and along the rows of pink and white azaleas,
she asked me about my writing. I told her that I had taken a break. I told her about my fears. I told her that I was thinking of ending my (online) story.
She listened to me. She validated my fears. She was thoughtful, as she always is.
And then, she told me to keep writing.
She told me to, at the very least, keep on chronicling my daughter’s life, if only for us to read in later months and years.
She told me that I would be grateful.
She was right.
~
So, this go around, a whole long year after I first wrote about getting poop on my face,
I am approaching this story with new eyes,
just the way I am approaching motherhood differently now.
I am no longer a new mom.
I am no longer unsure of myself, and flustered and sleep deprived.
I am no longer afraid to be honest.
About being frightened.
I am no longer a slave to round-the-clock nursings
(although, wouldn’t you know it, I’m still breastfeeding my daughter. She’s now 13 months old. Imagine that.)
or calling the dr on call on a weekly basis.
I trust myself,
I trust the people around me
and, most of all, I trust my daughter.
Now, when I ask her if she is still hungry,
if she wants another bite of peas,
she will tell me “more” or “no”.
When I ask her if she wants to stand up and dance, she will.
Or she won’t.
She’s now a person,
and I now know how to breathe again.
And so, maybe my lack of writing has also been indicative of the evolution I’ve been experiencing.
I certainly still get scared and anxious and sleepy and unsure,
but I also have faith in myself, and trust my abilities and really, truly, completely love every single minute of this thing called mommyhood.
My baby now puts two words together,
and kisses my lips,
and hugs Lola,
and says “hello, daddy!” as she rests the telephone on her shoulder and holds her ear up to the receiver,
and shakes her head, exclaiming, “no no, Ziggy”
and tells me when she wants to hear “Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious” one more time,
using her words,
and when I tell her she looks pretty, she brushes her hair and squeals in delight,
and puts on lipstick,
and she loves to smell the flowers and say “mmmm” when she likes their fragrance,
and she plays one note on her little piano and claps for herself,
and she says “fishies” when she wants to look at the pond and “tree” when she looks out the window,
and so many other words that I melt when I hear,
and eats everything
and blows me away with all she knows,
and all she can do,
and all she can be
every single day.
So, we’ve both grown up a bit.
Grown up a lot.
And, thank goodness,
grown some gosh darn hair.
So, from here on out, my diary shall remain open.
I will no longer stifle my desires to jot down a memory,
or record a precious anecdote,
and please,
feel free to laugh
and weep
and roll your eyes right along with us.
That’s what ’tis all about here in the ever after.
Because now things may not look the same,
but they’re really really good.
Or as some may say, better than
ever.

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Some things you’ve missed:

mommyeverafter — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 12:28:01 +0000

Things have a bit quiet here in the Land of Mom. Well, not in the Land of Mom, but here in the cyberland version of Ever After.
It’s not that I haven’t had what to share;
quite the opposite, in fact.
I have a million posts composed on my Blackberry, scribbled down on note paper and in my actual baby book,
and, even more in my head,
but I’ve chosen to keep them to myself for a bit.
Since I last wrote,
I turned another year older,
and so did my daughter.
Yep.
That’s right.
I failed to write about my daughter’s first birthday.
The old me would be appalled.
Haven’t I been writing about my 1st birthday plans since June?
Yes. Yes I have.
But, something has changed in me.
Maybe it’s the extra year I gained.
Maybe it’s the feeling of time slipping by so quickly that I cannot justify sitting behind a computer screen writing about my baby, when really, I could just be kissing her little face and breathing her in.
Maybe it’s the result of an April Fool’s Joke that went awry and scared the bejeezus out of me.
Maybe it’s something more.
But, I’ve chosen to keep some things close to the vest,
and I hope that you forgive me.
So, for today, I will give you some snippets of what you may have missed,
while I’ve been busy living
in the Ever After.
But, for now, I must leave you. My daughter just came over to me. She wants to dance to Solid Gold Oldies in my arms.
And I will never say no to an 8 am dance party.
Never.
I’m still me,
after all.

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