Wednesday 14 July 2010

pause: 8 months and 4 weeks and 1 day

I have been a really crap memory keeper.  I still don't have a wedding album, most of my photos from the last 10 years are boxed and/or stored various places in the world.  And I have not done ANY real record keeping of baby milestones. I was home recently and went through many of my keepsake boxes in my parent's basement.

a) wow, I wrote a LOT of notes in grade school
b) wow, I can't believe how much of my childhood stuff my parents KEPT... and moved ... and moved again.

I would very much like to be the kind of parent that has lovely scrapbooks of tickets and locks of hair and cute appropriate first photos -- all labeled and dated and official.  And I am afraid it isn't going to happen.  Not now anyway...

In theory, I am that person, but I somehow can't be arsed as it seems so tedious.  Can I blame not having a basement to store things?

Instead, maybe I can capture moments in time of what it is like for Lew in his life on this day.

8 months and 4 weeks

  • loves toast, yogurt, water and cheese. (who is his mother) and vegetables (who is his father). and breastmilk (the kid has good taste)
  • 3.5 teeth -- 2 bottoms and 1 front and 1/2 of the other front... fangs imminent
  • crawling fast and furiously, pulling up on furniture, learning to fall gracefully on his nice padded bum instead of crashing with his head
  • loves people -- smiles at all strangers and loves attention. a serious ham-bone and loves other babies -- and of course his mom and dad
  • takes 2 naps a day, usually at 10ish and at 2ish. Bath at 6:30 ish and bed at 7 and sleeps with a few wake ups until about 7
  • peek a boo makes him seriously CRACK up
  • loves music and watching (hearing?) people sing
  • not all that interested in stuffed animals, but likes balls, wheels and things he can shove in his mouth, which is actually pretty big
  • First noise (not really a word) was BA - then MA MA (which is CLEARLY a word) and we get the only occasional (sorry Mark) DA.
  • Is scared of the vacuum cleaner and my exercise ball
  • Has been very squirmy but starting to chill out and sit nicely on a lap
  • Goes to sleep listening to lullabies
  • Hates hats
  • And bibs
  • Will not let you feed him
  • Has a heart melting smile
  • Likes to hold hands and lots of cuddles
  • Books are OK as long as they have stuff to feel
  • Makes friends everywhere he goes -- each line of each shop ...
  • Leaves no corner unexplored, especially where we haven't baby proofed
  • Is genuinely good company
  • Has blue eyes which if they remain, will be from his paternal grandmother!
  • Is currently called Lewberry or Lewbear
  • Gets very busy sorting things (in his own categories unbeknownst to anyone else)
  • Has very light brown hair and very fine and what looks to be his uncle g's hairline
  • Shrieks inexplicably 
  • Grabs glasses, pulls hair and bits of flesh
  • Drools constantly
  • Is adored by his parents
  • Emerging to be an exciting, curious, loving, sweet, sociable boy -- just like we ordered!

Saturday 10 July 2010

sweating all the smallest stuff

I recently realized that I do approximately 2-3 loads of laundry EACH day. Now even including the MustWashAllClothesEachTimeHeWearsThem 8 month old, that is a whole more laundry than 3 people warrant.  I am obsessed.

I have made it my cottage industry to never have anything in the laundry bins.  Sheets, towels, kitchen tea towels, baby bibs, bathroom rugs ... all get such a regular rotation that my new shiny Bosch may be getting tired.  Ever since the discovery of the multi-wash setting -- it all gets thrown in as one. Often.

I have decided somewhere in my addled brain that if I KEEP UP I will Remain In Control.
Keep up with laundry. Keep up with supplies in the house.  Keep up with Facebook. And, well, that is all about I can keep up with.

Where did I get this idea?

I have a baby.

So very many things are now out of my control.  He is dictating so many of my day's outputs.
The baby nap has become the central defining core of my days.  Must. Get. Him. To. Sleep. 2 Naps. At All Costs.  I contort  to shush him and play the many many presleep games we have somehow adopted for hours, I walk endlessly in all manner of weather and mood in quiet (dare not a CAR drive by and wake the babe) parts of the park.  I wind down the baby wolverine from warp speed (MUST CLIMB MUST STAND MUST MUST...)  to mmmmmmmm, nursing ... to zzzzzzzzz.

It is freaking hard work.  And I find I get crazy annoyed if all my best efforts, well, fail. (I guess We WON'T BE NAPPING THEN!)

I am a crazy person.

I currently sleep on 2 inches of my bed while my co-sleeping child lies spread eagle and husband gets 3 inches. (Note, our summer project is Reclaim The Bed: a much hyped and no action item to do so far...)

I haven't dried my hair with an actual hair dryer in about (no lie) 5 months.

I am  woefully aware of all the dangers in our flat that we have yet to conquer -- so many edges and corners and finger snapping traps and climbable and pull able things.  I try to be vigilant that he is able to be a free range kid and also a safe one.

This means I am on my hands and knees too.

I got a (thank you Jesus) massage today and the therapist agreed that I am indeed "broken".

I need some balance. I need to chill out about the naps and the laundry. I need to be OK with more chaos. I need to stop trying to recreate what worked and pay attention to what's happening. My boy is growing and growing fast.  Nearly walking for chissake.

I can see how easy it would be to make my life's work about worrying the smallest  bits to death.  I could do nothing but keep the house tidy, laundry clean  and our 3 square meals a day hot and ready. But man what would I be missing.  And how empty would my life be at the end of it? Things will always get dirty again. Meals are gobbled up and gone.

I want to be a provider of safety and cuddles and giggles. And I want my boy to remember my smile, not my furrowed brow and busy hands.

Do I dare let the laundry pile up? What happens when I kill the control freak within? When I let go will it all crumble?   Or is that when space to sweat and recognize the big stuff comes in?