Facebook Follow-up

Recently I posted on Facebook the following statement:

In just seven very short days Mr. starts his parental leave. Part of me excited; but the part of me that realizes that this amazing time with PJ  is coming to an end in just five weeks is very sad.

First thing: wow, I really need to reread my status updates for grammar in the future. Ouchie.

Second thing: I thought I was doing that Facebook thing of sharing what was going on in my head and moving on. But then private messages started finding their way into my Facebook and email inbox. I realized that I had also wandered into that strange world of parenting advice; the role of men and women at home; and the whole stay-at-home vs. career mom debate. Thankfully I'm Facebook "friends" with primarily rational, caring people and the messages never ventured into the aggressive, insulting, black-and-white realm one usually finds on the Internet. Instead they were full of mostly kind, supportive messages...that didn't really relate to what I was trying to express in very poor grammar. Instead they seemed to represent to me so many misunderstandings that pop up in conversations about parenting. 

Therefore, I decided to not just answer those personal messages but to also write a blog post in the hope that maybe I can help influence the overall conversation. Not that I'm asking too much of my little corner of the web.

Wink. Wink.

Please note: none of these quotes are real and have been created to represent those misunderstandings in a broad way.

To the misunderstandings:

1. "Yeah it really stinks when men try to get involved. They don't have the skills and just get in the way. But no worries! The four hours every day will pass quickly and your husband can't kill PJ that quickly." "Write down how to do everything, add a daily list of things to remember, and then call to make sure everything is going the way it should."

I am excited that the Mr. is coming home to be with us. Excited. And not just because he does stuff like laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning the kitchen. I'm excited because I enjoy being with my husband and PJ loves being with his da-da. I'm excited because I live in a time and place which makes extended leave during the first year of a baby's life possible for the mom and the dad. Both of us. The parents. That is awesome.

Know what else is awesome? That my husband, PJ's daddy not only steps up with joy to spend five months of his life to be with his little man but that he is excited to be a hands-on, getting-dirty-and-rocking-the-house stay-at-home daddy for a while of his own free will.

Seriously. Stop laughing. Once I realized how awesome being with little man is, I offered to stay longer ... lets just say the words "No" and "way" were part of the Mr's answer (with a nice big F-word inbetween).

So I am excited!

But to the point about trusting the Mr. with PJ alone...let's be really clear: I don't trust you with my kid. I know, I know, I have become one of those moms. But, hand on the bible, I trust my husband. Yes, the Mr. will do many things differently. He will forget a lot. He will make mistakes. Will that always make me smile? No. Do I doubt his ability and his desire to be the best daddy ever? No. Will he do some things better than me? Oh hell, yes.

So, I won't make him lists of "how to take care of PJ" - nor will I call him every hour just to make sure that he is doing what is on those lists. I may call every 20 minutes to hear what PJ is doing, saying, eating, etc but that because I need to hear it, not because I think the Mr. can't hack it.
The problem - if you can call it that - is me. Not the Mr. Me.

(And, yes, I'll work on that whole trusting you with my kid thing. Sorry about that.)

2. "Since you hate your job, don't go back."

I am sad that my dedicated time with PJ is coming to an end but I am not sad that I am returning to my career. I'm sad about what I'm leaving behind - not what I am moving towards. I am and will always be his mommy. No one can take my place. He is my child. We will have wonderful times together and there are joys that I haven't even thought of yet, but there is a huge lists of won't be able tos:

• I won't have hours and hours every day for play dates with other kids.
• I won't always be the person to see all of his firsts. (And, yes, if I told you that you saw something before me - with the exception of rolling - I lied. Sorry about that. But you were so excited and, well, I'm a push over sometimes.)
• I won't have what seems to be endless time to lay around with him after his naps while he slowly wakes up, casually nursing and playing with his hair, my hair, his nose, my nose.
• I won't be able to read Chirpy Chick five times in a row every time he wants me too.
• I won't be able to goof around on the changing table, trying to make each diaper change less of a fight (or wrestling match) and more of a game, for endless periods of time.

...because sometimes I will need to get to work, or an appointment, or whatever.

But who said I hated my job? Not me, cause I don't.

3. "You should have enjoyed your time at home more." "You should be more thankful."
 

This glorious, blessed, amazing period of life is coming to an end and, yes, I grieve for it. I grieve for it and grieve in part for it because of how much I have treasured it while it was taking place. All good things come to an end. Yes. But being sad about it is natural and human and real. I could not have enjoyed it more and I could not be more thankful for this blessing.

So, since I seem to lack a mature way to deal with this one, a picture in response:

3. "A real mom feels the way you feel - a mom should be at home!" "Being a working mom is the only way to raise successful, independent kids!" "Don't make the mistake of staying home / going to work!"

If I've learned one thing from my career development: know your weakness, know your strengths, minimize your weaknesses, and set up your job and your life to build upon your strengths. An easy way to know what your weakness and strengths are is to put yourself into a specific situation, watch a pro at whatever job or life situation you are considering, and then note what you feel. If your response is, "I really admire this professional. Wow." and nothing else ... move on. You've just identified something you can appreciate but you are not interested in.

For example, my new stay-at-home mom friend. She is awesome. I admire her. She is poised, flexible, strict, funny, adaptable, clear, honest, and just damn likable while she balances two extremely different, equally outrageous and wonderful boys; a lovable, energetic puppy; a gregarious husband doing an hour commute each way; a regular exercise routine; a leading role in a local mom's group; a healthy and vibrant group of friends...there is probably more I don't know about yet ...all in a foreign country. Right now, as I type this, she has two extra adults and three extra kids in her house. And she is genuinely happy. I watch her with admiration and think, "I really admire this professional. Wow." ...and nothing else.

So, like race car driving and stock trading, I may be totally impressed but I'm not interested in learning how to do it myself.

However, if you are in that specific situation, watching an expert, and your think, "I really admire this pro and I need to know how she does it." ...stay. You've just identified something you are not only interested in but you are ready to put the work into to become good at it. 

For example, my working mom friend. She is also awesome. I admire her. Over the past seven years, I have slowly grown closer to her. She balances two intelligent and immensely entertaining girls; a key role (including creating and founding) the wonderful Heidelberg International Professional Women's Forum; a lovely and supportive husband; a vibrant group of friends all over the world; a nearly full-time job (the last time I checked)...and more that I don't know about...all in a foreign country and then throughout an international move. And she is also genuinely happy. I watch her with admiration and I want to know how she does it, practice it, morph it into what works for us, and then role model it for others.

So that's what I am going to be doing: becoming a working mom. Is it easier than being a stay-at-home mom? No. Is it harder? No, I don't think that is true either.

My choice to return to work is a choice that goes beyond me. It is a choice, a decision that the Mr. and I have made as individuals, as spouses, as parents, and as a family have made based on what we believe is right for us, for our family. It may change, it may not. Our choice is not a statement or a judgement about your family. Do what is right in your family and for your family. And, please, understand and respect - maybe even accept - that I will be doing the same for mine.

So, now allow me to revamp my original statement:

In just two days the Mr. starts his parental leave. Part of me is excited; but part of me also realizes that this amazing time with PJ is coming to an end in just four weeks and is very sad.


xo

Look Mom, No Hands on the Floor!

It appears that remaining horizontal is out of fashion. Although little man isn't properly crawling yet - an effective army crawl gets him everywhere, fast - he is hungry to build leg muscles with some vertical pull-ups. Exciting, right?

Wait, on second thought, this is kinda scary? I mean, I'm just getting use to picking stuff up off the floor - and now I've gotta think about table tops? Hum ....

The first pull-up, late last week.

The second pull-up, just a few hours later.

Just a day later, he took on the coffee table challenge.

Which he then built upon, growing even more courageous on Sunday. 

Monday he decided he was ready to climb the office chair - please notice the wheels. I put really heavy books on top of it so that I could grab the picture.

And then yesterday he started pulling himself up onto his high chair - and everything else at about that height. This is the only picture because I may be relatively hands-off and encourage PJ to stretch himself ... but I'm not crazy! Those legs are ambitious but they are not stable.

Oh, third thought - can I write that? - my little boy is reaching higher, farther, faster. And I'm there, behind him, helping him laugh off a safe fall or maybe cushioning a possible nasty one, but always letting him know that while today it may be his high chair, tomorrow it could be the stars. Or maybe even past the stars. And I will be always be there.

So, yes, exciting. Definitely exciting.



xo

Feature: Productive Parenting

Yours truly is featured today on the very cool Product Parenting website! Considering the awesome mommies that have already been featured this is quite an honor. Take a moment to check out the whole website and my mommy feature.

How 'bout them apples?


xo 

Dancing Queens

It isn't easy to meet new people in Germany. In part because the culture is based on a much stricter definition of "inside" and "outside" relationships; friendships are taken more seriously, and most people don't move around too often. Put together, this means the vast majority of people already have their support structures, friends, family, hobbies, etc, and they don't really need a new person nor do they think they have time to dedicate to a new relationship.* All in all, it takes much longer to really get to know people, let alone get invited to their home or into their group.


Of course these are generalizations and should be taken with a grain of salt.** But before we move on and you think I'm just pulling it from thin air: two personal stories to highlight my experience: 


How people don't need a new person part one:

Years ago my now-husband invited me to meet some of his friends at a party. I was very nervous because my German was almost nonexistent at the time and I was walking into what I thought was a German-only environment (turns out they all speak great English - learned that years later). The apartment was packed with people and my then-boyfriend introduced me to a few of them. They shook my hand and then didn't talk to me. Seriously. Not even the usually annoying get-to-know-you small talk questions like: "where are you from?" or "how did you meet?" or "want a drink?" I sat on the couch, drink in hand, while people literally spoke over me but not at me. They weren't trying to be rude - I now know these people and these are decent people - but they didn't know me and so they just didn't talk to me. Nothing personal.***

How people don't need a new person part two: 

About three years ago in a conversation with my now-father-in-law about how I wanted to meet new people, I asked him how he meets new people. He looked at me with real confusion on his face and finally answered, "I don't need new people." End of conversation. Right-o. 

Anyways, all of this to say that I shouldn't have been surprised when I walked into my first German mommy group and no one talked to me. They looked up, knew they didn't know me, and then turned back to the people that they did know. I tried as hard as I could to break through that barrier, reaping a handful of answers and a few questions, but I was a new mom struggling with being a new mom and just didn't have the strength. 

I left each attempt - four in total - so lonely, so full of failure, and so empty of hope. I was already dealing with a lot and each experience made the dark seem so much darker.   

But then when PJ was six weeks old - and by rather strange turn of events - I learned about a mommy group hosted by the US Army. I sent an email to ask if I could join and got a welcoming response. So against my instinct, I drug myself to my first Mothers of Pre-Schoolers (MOPS) meeting. 

Lets be frank here, I felt and looked awful. PJ was miserable, crying all the way to the meeting. I was expecting to be ignored in the best case and rejected in the worse. With trepidation I walked into the church and before I was more than two feet through the door, a stranger turned to me and exclaimed with joy in her voice and a smile across her face, "Well, I don't think I knew your face!"

I'm not too proud to admit that I cried. In relief. In hope. In oh-thank-god-I-came-here-ness. PJ liked it too: he slept through the entire meeting.

It has been about four months since that first meeting. I now know that I have stumbled into a group of supportive, encouraging, goofy mothers from all over the world. I look forward to seeing these women every two weeks and I'm so thankful for the friendships I'm building outside of the meetings as well. Frankly, I think I am a better mom because of them. 

Which brings us to the point of this blog entry: this weekend we had a mommy's-night-out. There was a Wii with some sort of dancing game. I learned that Britney Spears has nothing on us.

The original video for Hit Me Baby One More Time was so lame in comparison. Next time we should seriously sell tickets.

xo

*Of course there are always exceptions. For example, when I first moved to Germany I met a lovely German woman. Over the series of a couple of months we slowly grew a friendship. Then I hit a rough patch and even though she lived in a tiny one room apartment, she let me sleep on her flip-out bed for countless nights. She loaned me money when frankly she was struggling too. She pulled me out into the world when I just couldn't. She called me, sent me encouraging text messages, and just constantly let me know she believed in me. Since then life has thrown us both a number of curve balls that floored us and some beautiful pitches we hit out of the park. We've lived in different countries for years but she remains such a wonderful friend. And she is an amazing example of the incredible reality of what German friendships can be. 

**There is an awesome book that goes into much more detail and with all sorts of footnotes called Germany: Unraveling the Enigma if you want to know more.

***There is one exception and I am so grateful to him that he may always get away with bullshit in my book. Including, but not limited to, shoving his naked butt into my face while drunk; pointing out that my boobs are huge in front of about five male friends; and licking my neck for some unknown reason while sober. What was up with that?

Sitting Tall

For about as long as we have had Mr PJ's bouncy chair, he has spent at least a little bit of breakfast, lunch, or dinner time in it, like on Thanksgiving.

At first PJ sat in the chair for a short period of time. Over a few weeks it grew to last almost the entire meal time, as long as we played with him a little bit and generally included him in conversation with our verbal and nonverbal communication. But over the past two weeks he has grown increasingly impatient in his chair during meals, demanding more and more often to sit on our laps. There he would watch us eat and explore the table with his hands.

Since he can sit with the smallest amount of balance support, I decided to perform an experiment and ordered a hanging high chair. To say that PJ was pleased to join us at the table would be downplaying his joy big time. He was stoked, swinging his legs, playing with his spoon, and banging his hands on the table top.

It seems that more solid foods are really just around the corner. 



xo

How Are Babies Like Pets?

Remember the post "Things to Say ... and Not"? Number 8 on Things Not to Say was: 
-----
8. Oh, I totally understand. My dog/cat/hamster did that and …

Really? My child, your pet? Um, thanks, I think we aren’t quite on the same wave length.

-----
I still think this is a seriously shitty thing to say to new parents. But it turns out that at least one thing is the same:

...the fascination with washing machines.

Superpapa

Last night the Mr. got home from a four-day business vacation*. PJ was already in bed, exhausted from the trials of cutting his first tooth that has led to more frequent night wakings, shorter naps, and more (justified but tiring for us both) whining and discomfort. I was starting to wilt from exhaustion on the couch. The best sound I've ever heard in my entire life was PJ's first healthy scream but the click of the Mr's key in our door is definitely on the top 10 list. Because that click means less work, more joy. For I have not just a husband, not just a friend, not just a partner-in-crime and a partner-in-silliness. I have a partner-in-parenting.

For a variety of reasons, I didn't grow up with a consistent, positive male in my life. As a teenager I didn't quite know how to act in a home with an engaged father but watching from the outside I knew that if I ever had children I wanted them to have at least one. I knew I wanted my potential children's father to be more than just "there" but "there" would be a good place to start. I hoped for more and as I got to know the Mr and his family** better I grew a quiet, strong belief that he would absolutely be "there" - and he would be and do so much more.

I was right. I am now married to a man who gratefully and whole-heartily takes up his share and sometimes more. He does big things like:

• sleeping two nights in the hospital with his family to share those precious first hours with us
• signing up for months of parental leave
  
• skipping meals because he was so busy supporting us and walking countless kilometers with PJ in his arms (losing weight too quickly as a result)
• holding tight to me throughout the breast feeding issues and post-partum shocks that induced post-partum depression
• taking over feeding PJ when I just couldn't anymore
• being fully responsible for PJ's bedtime routine over a period of weeks when all I needed was sleep
• reminding me often that I'm doing a good job, that PJ is lucky to have me

And smaller things like:

• taking out the trash before I notice it needs to be done
• ensuring that we have groceries in the house
• cleaning the kitchen
• rubbing my neck
• telling me I look beautiful
  
• calling while at work just to "see how things are"
• replacing world of warcraft as his blackberry background image with a picture of PJ and I
  

And amazing things like waking up frequently throughout the night to screen if PJ is awake because he needs hugs while his mouth aches or if he is really hungry. As a result I was up only three times last night, sleeping an almost five hour stretch and getting almost 8 hours of broken sleep.

I am an awesome mommy; he is Superpapa.

 

Together we are Family Steinbach.

xo
*These days anything with one or more nights of uninterrupted sleep is a vacation. Don't argue.
**Single ladies, I offer two pieces of unrequested advice.
1. Be friends for a while first; even if you think he is totally hot and he thinks you rock, men speak and act differently to and with girl friends. You also speak and act differently if you aren't sleeping together. You'll both learn about each other's character, way of life, and maybe save yourselves a lot of time by either staying together or skipping the drama.
2. Meet his parents as soon as you think "hey, I could be with this guy for a while". Then study them. They are his normal and you're going to get that for better or for worse. Mr. is loyal, devoted to family, good with money, responsible, and solid. He also tends towards impatience, eats fast, and hears "chaos" instead of "change". Basically, while still unique, he is like his dad.

English and German Lullabies

Ever wondered to yourself: what's the difference between English/American and German lullabies? Yeah, me either. Well, until recently when little PJ arrived on the scene. Turns out that the vast majority of the melodies are the same. The sentiments, however, are not.

Lets take, for example, the lullaby set to Johannes Brahms wonderful melody. You can hear just the melody here on youtube.

The German version is:
Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Mit Rosen bedacht
Mit Näglein besteckt
Schlüpf unter die Deck'
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Von Englein bewacht
Die zeigen im Traum
Dir Christkindleins Baum
Schlaf nun selig und süß
Schau im Traum 's Paradies
Schlaf nun selig und süß
Schau im Traum 's Paradies

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Mit Rosen bedacht
Mit Näglein besteckt
Schlüpf unter die Deck'
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt

For those that don't read German - you can hear a translation of the actual German into English by the lovely Dean Martin (also from Ohio, by the way) also on youtube. If you're not into hearing the entire song, no fear! Keep reading.

The English version is:
Lullaby, and good night,
With pink roses bedight,
With lilies o'erspread,
Is my baby's sweet head.
Lay you down now, and rest,
May your slumber be blessed!
Lay you down now, and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed!

Lullaby, and good night,
You're your mother's delight,
Shining angels beside
My darling abide.
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head.
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head.

Sleepyhead, close your eyes.
Mother's right here beside you.
I'll protect you from harm,
You will wake in my arms.
Guardian angels are near,
So sleep on, with no fear.

But lets take a closer look, shall we? Do some comparative analysis (and for my English professor friends here, cut me some slack, I haven't written a paper in about 10 years and this is my tongue-in-cheek blog).

The first verse ends in German with (translation here):
"tomorrow morning, and if God will,
you'll wake up again"

The first verse ends in English with:
"Lay you down now, and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed!"

So the German version is something like (watch out: emotional translation!): Okay, little baby, its time to go to sleep and if you are really lucky and God likes you and everything maybe you'll also wake up.

I don't know about you guys, but I don't think those lyrics would really help me feel safe, secure, and lead me to sleeping peacefully. Sure the song sounds nice but I'm imagining a final prayer along the lines of: "Um, God, please, pretty please let me wake up tomorrow." Then a private, "oh, shit, I really hope she didn't see me leak poop; pull mommy's hair; poke my little brother; stick out my tongue; and so on." And finally a desparate promise, "God, if you let me wake up tomorrow I prooooomise I won't .... "

Hello, insecurity!

Whereas the English version is more like: Okay, little baby, its time to go to sleep and recharge your batteries because you and your sleep are so special and under God's watchful eye.

Yeah, those lyrics give me a warm, fuzzy, lets-go-to-sleep feeling. A little huggy, huggy feeling. A stretch-and-smile kinda feeling at the end of a day.

Hello, self-confidence!

The Mr's response to this? A very loving: "You and your American, politically correct crap."

Pause, cue goofy grin and then a sly: "Babies have to toughen up."*

Ahhhh, the differences start way early and last forever.

xo

*The Mr. claims he never said the second statement. He so did and it was hilarious.

Four Months

PJ is Four Months today! One-third of his first year is already over - remember when it all began?

This weekend I closed up the first box with the clothing he's outgrown, saying goodbye to all of his 0-3 month size clothing. All of those adorable little outfits, outfits, outfits, and outfits. As I carefully folded up the clothing, arranging and organizing, many memories came back, like this one, and this one, and this one.

And we are "only" one-third into the year - what will it be like in a few months? Thankfully I was told to enjoy this time often enough that I actually started to listen. Thanks everyone.



xo

Mommy and Daddy's Night Out

The Mr. and I enjoyed our first Mommy and Daddy's Night Out last night. We put little man to bed and then slipped around the corner to enjoy a six course tapa meal accompanied by excellent wine. We consciously tried to have adult conversation about work, politics, hobbies, and other non-PJ centered topics. It took two or three reminders but all in all was pretty successful.

I even wore a non-nursing shirt which constitutes "getting all done up" for me these days.
 

My hottie babysitter from June did an awesome repeat performance. I think we're all looking forward to the next time.

xo

Happy Halloween!

Little man got all decked out yesterday for a special day times two: Halloween (of course) and Oma's birthday (even better). 

Mommy was super proud of her little pumpkin: 

The birthday girl, also known as PJ's Oma, was also proud. Oma was extra beautiful for her birthday, even PJ was super impressed.

As usual PJ couldn't get enough of his uncle ...

...or his aunt.

Usually PJ goes to bed between 6 and 7pm, so staying up for a party that started at 6pm took some nap planning. I somehow managed to get him down for three morning naps in his own bed and then three short afternoon naps by taking a walk and by driving to the walk and then to the party. Although PJ was overwhelmed a few times by the sheer number of new faces, smells, and sounds, he was able to party with the guests until about 8pm.

Then he got a little grumpy (and slight demonic, or is it just the lighting?) ...

...and began to baptise friends and family with his late-night dinner.

Thankfully the Mr. managed to help PJ fall asleep and then PJ stayed asleep in a pack-n-play in a back room long enough for mommy and daddy to have something like a date night. 

What a good looking family we are, right?

xo

Sleep Training

The first few months of PJ’s arrival into our life were chaotic at best. We dealt with breastfeeding issues, post partum depression, colic, and sleep problems. From the beginning we planned on having PJ with us in our room for the first four to six months, sleeping in a side car that fastens onto our bed. We chose this semi-co-sleeping route to make breastfeeding easier, encourage sleep in the entire family, and because I was petrified of squeezing out a little guy from the coziness of my uterus and then plopping him into a cavernous (for him) room. 

But within a few short series of days the semi-co-sleeping route was history - so much for “I’ll never do that…” - and little PJ and I were sleeping together on my side of the bed.

We lay belly-to-belly with my arm gently resting against the top of his head and, at the beginning, my legs bent to rest against the bottom of his feet. As he grew, my arm stayed in position and slowly his feet, then his calves, and finally his knees rested on my thigh. Every time I woke up I had a kink in my neck, my shoulder was half asleep, and my lower back was aching. Sometimes I got to wake up to the joy of getting kicked in my tummy and then later, as PJ grew, my crotch. I got my hair pulled and the front of my chest was always cold since there was no way I was putting my blanket anywhere near his face. Anytime I moved, he moved too and most of the time he would let out a little complaining cry.

Lets just say it wasn’t easy or incredibly comfortable.

Yet, we did get more sleep than we would have otherwise and I knew that PJ needed me. He needed my smell, my warmth, my breath. And as breast feeding started to work, he needed the reassurance of my breasts, often. It was the right solution for us at the right time.

But all things come to an end.

After weeks of discussion and negotiations (and lots of conversation with other mommies), we started “sleep training” a la Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. Almost two weeks ago we started with the Mr. gently putting PJ to sleep for the first part of the night in his own, beautiful crib in his own room.

When he woke for the first time, I would go pick him up, carry him to our room, nurse him, and then we spent the rest of the night together. Over the past week it has morphed into PJ sleeping alone throughout the night and for almost all of his naps. He is going to sleep hours earlier than he use to, sleeping longer than he use to, and taking significantly more naps than he use to. These changes are NOT all due to “sleep training”: he recently doubled his weight, his strength increased, he sees better, hears better, likes to play on the floor alone for short periods of time, and is just older. I think we got lucky and caught that moment in time where he was ready to sleep longer and alone.

Not that we knew that going in. It was a scary transition for me. Sleep has been my saving grace and I was really worried that we would all crash and burn. But by night two, PJ was going to sleep on his own relatively easily and I was happy to be sleeping by myself again, with both sides of my chest warm and the freedom to move whenever and however I chose. I know PJ and I are both sleeping better and I’m pretty sure the Mr. does too.

Now, just a few days after the transition, I’m already slowly rewriting history - just like with the pregnancy, the birth, and the pain of breastfeeding - I’m forgetting the ugly and remembering the wonder. The wonder of his smell, his breath, his little coos, his tiny hand wrapped around my thumb all throughout the night. The wonder of him finally waking without panic screams to look up at me and smile his toothless grin just seconds before he dove for breakfast.

Time really does fly. At a supersonic speed.

End of an Era

Over two years ago while visiting the US, my sister and I bought ourselves some pretty rad, extremely goofy sunglasses. Mine were red with bizarre stars on them; hers were orange with something I can't remember on them. I liked the looks of amusement, what-is-she-wearing (nod to Style Queen here), and sometimes stuffy disgust when I wore mine out and about, especially recently while baby wearing PJ. When Little One was here, we got to rock our shades together all throughout Heidelberg.

But yesterday an era ended: my crazy red-with-stars sunglasses broke in the diaper bag.

And lately that is how I have been feeling: an end of an era. I jokingly tell people that life with PJ got easier when I forgot what it was like before and then I laugh. But really, honestly, its the truth. I cannot really recall what life was like before PJ arrived anymore.

Did I sleep late? Did I shower longer? Did I eat slower? Did food taste better warm? What was it like to drink two glasses of wine? Did I walk more? What was regular yoga like? What did I talk about? What did I read?

Yeah, I don't know. An end of an era. And something about that actually feels right.

How 'bout them apples?


xo

Making a Reader

I am a big reader and hope to give that pleasure to our little boy. In that vein, I have been reading two short books to PJ as part of his bedtime routine for a few weeks. In the past couple of nights, he has been paying attention to the pictures and responding when I take too long to move a page. I hope this is a start of a happy reader!

xo

Our Little American

We took our little PJ up to the American consulate yesterday to apply for his American passport and social security number. The process was surprisingly organized and simple; we were out in about 90 minutes. Way to go Frankfurt people!

To celebrate we taught PJ an American tradition: we stopped at McDonald's and then ate in the car. He was less than impressed.

Our little American:

xo

Hanging Out With Myself

Drum roll: At this very moment I am not in the very same physical location as PJ.  About 30 minutes ago the Mr. took him off to his work for some show-and-tell.

Applause? Because this marks the first time that PJ and I are in different locations since he was born in July. It took some serious preplanning because we needed to arm the Mr. with some breast milk and I’m not a “good” pumper. Which means, while I can quite well feed my child directly at my breast, I can’t effectively feed a pump. Which translated into three pumping sessions to get one bottle large enough for the Mr. to take with him.

Applause? Because I’m not clapping yet. Instead I feel a little naked. I dreamed of taking a nap but can’t; in part because the Mr. sprayed his deo in our room right before he took of and in part because its just strange not to have PJ here. I considered working on the book I’m scribbling but can’t; basically because I can’t concentrate on more than:
    “Is PJ okay?”
    “How is the Mr. holding up?”
    “Are his colleagues handling PJ well?”
    “Is PJ hungry?”
    “Will the Mr. know when PJ is hungry or will he wait for him to cry?”
… and so on.

Like this picture - 

I’m sure my men are doing just fine and I never thought I’d be one of the mommies that feels this way. I thought it was going to be easy to kiss our little boy on the forehead and take off for an evening out with the ladies. In fact, I very naively planned a sushi date for “6 weeks after birth” (that didn’t happen). Maybe I will morph into one of those women over time but right now hanging out with myself is a bit of a challenge.

I think I’ll go take a bath.

12 Weeks! Car Friendly?

...And we have lift off! PJ is officially 12 weeks old today.

Since about birth PJ has been both a stroller and a car screamer. I fluctuate between thinking both offer too much sensory information at once; offer too little human contact; and/or the kid just gets motion sickness. However, today a small miracle happened. During a short road trip to Speyer, PJ fell asleep in the car. Maybe this is a nice step in a good, car-friendly direction?

The phrase “never count your chickens before they hatch” comes to mind, balanced out with “hope dies last.” Lets see where this goes!







xo

Appreciating the Little Moments

PJ was born in July 2011. It is now September 2011. Between then and now – and unlike the mythology of motherhood – there have been more dark moments than moments of joy. Going into pregnancy I knew that I was at high risk for postpartum depression but what I did not know was that the support I thought I would need was far from what I really needed. I was also ignorant that breastfeeding, something I had planned on doing since I watched my mother breastfeed my sister, was a learned skill for both myself and my son and it is a difficult skill for us both to learn at that. There were other things I had failed to understand: the power and the pain of short bursts of sleep; what colic is; how much a new mother needs her mommy.

To say we struggled would be an understatement not unlike saying the Grand Canyon is „big“ and German „a little tough to learn at first“.

Thankfully, my husband was also able and willing to take the first month of our little boy's life off of work. I'm not sure what would have happened had I been alone. With him in the house, cooking, cleaning, shopping, encouraging, reassuring me and PJ (often literally at the same time), I could yell at him, slam doors at him, cry at him, and – most importantly – blame him for all this insanity instead of our little boy, just days and then weeks old.

Not that our son remained untouched by all of this. Breastfeeding was so difficult and so painful that I exuded fear every time he cried and every time I held him in my arms. Infants, like animals, react to our feelings and PJ's reaction was natural: my arms were not a safe place and he screamed for safety. Based on the bad advice we got during his first few weeks, I'm pretty sure he was also screaming out of hunger but that's another story.

I cried on the phone, I cried on skype, I cried going to the bathroom. Everything was too much and my world was wrapped in dark fog, a fog I hadn't seen in years since my last true depressive episode. I got scared and so did my husband.

"What do you need? How can I help you?" he kept asking over and over again, desperately ready to do anything to help Fix This.

"I don't know," I kept answering in many vague ways. Like so much, I didn't know what I needed or what would help.

Time crept past and after four weeks my husband went back to work. I learned about the La Leche league and got the patience, understanding, support, and expert guidance I needed for breastfeeding to become successful. I went onto Facebook and asked for support between 12 and 5, when my son was the most upset and I was alone. People - some of them surprising - started coming. I got up the courage to go to mommy groups. My mommy came for a visit. I went to my first MOPS meeting. My sister arrived to help.

And things got and are getting better. Breastfeeding is established and going well. My son has almost doubled his weight, grown out of his 0-3 month clothing, and had learned to smile and coo. And I have proven to him that my arms are the safest place to be. We all sleep a little more. The colic is basically gone. My husband is and continues to be an outstanding husband and father. I see and feel now that I am not alone.

Which brings us to a recent morning, 11 weeks into this adventure. After a rocky night, my husband, son, and I all laid down for an early morning nap. I nursed our little man to sleep and then I gently rocked onto my back, placing one hand on my husband's thigh. My right arm was wrapped around my son and my left hand was resting on my husband. Both of my men were peacefully, deeply breathing in their sleep in our dark bedroom and I looked at them both and tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought, "This. I really like this moment."

Here's to appreciating more of these moments. 

 xo

Things to Say ... and Not

I am in the double digits of motherhood: Friday PJ turned 10 weeks old. In the past 10 weeks I’ve learned a lot about myself, my husband, and my little boy. For example, sleep is really important to me but I can function/survive on surprisingly little sleep. Not well and I’m sure my husband and boy like me more when I’ve slept more, but I can survive. Also water is really important. Really, really important. Right above food. And just on latte a day makes the Mrs. a happy lady.

No big surprises there, I suppose, dear readers. But (at least for me) I’ve also learned that some of things that I said to others during their first weeks of motherhood/fatherhood were just rude. I’ve learned that by getting those same things said to me. Thankfully, I’ve also learned that not everything I said to others was crappy; some things were just great. Again, I learned this one from the amazing people who have given me support in person or virtually. To help remind myself (and maybe save you some time and hurt feelings) in the future, here are some of the top things to say and NOT to say. These lists aren’t comprehensive and they are absolutely formed by my personal experience, I could be missing some good stuff.


Things Not to Say:
1. Wow, I’m so tired.
This is particularly awful to say when you mean that you stayed out too late with friends at an awesome party, drinking excellent cocktails, dancing to great music, and flirting with adorable women/men.

2. Got any food? / I’m hungry/thirsty.
What?! You didn’t bring any with you for us? I’m a little up to my ears in the chaos of early motherhood and your needs are quite low on my priority list.

3. Babies cry.
Really? Thanks - you aren’t helping. I think I’ve figured out that all babies and especially my baby cries. For hours. On. End. But thanks for pointing that out. Maybe you haven’t felt the biological need to calm your own child, Mr Obvious.

4. He wants his mommy.
A lot of the time this is a GREAT thing to say but not when mommy really needs a break and baby is fed, clean, and is crying to cry. Which is why you are here to help, right?. And if you aren’t here to help, why are you here?

5. Yes, I’d like to help. Come to my house / Lets meet at [enter location here].
The first part is awesome but the second part is lame-o. If a mommy or daddy asks for help and you really want to help, hop in your car. A mommy that needs help isn’t a mommy that is mobile. And no one wants to show up at a café with sore nipples and a screaming child.

6. Like mommy, like child.
Really? So its my fault that he cries for hours on end? I appreciate that.

7. He doesn’t need to breastfeed again!
How do you know that? Are you sure? Because he seems thrilled to be getting some food. Do you mean that you just want to hold him longer or feel uncomfortable with my boob? Cause I’m too tired to read into what you really mean.

8. Oh, I totally understand. My dog/cat/hamster did that and …
Really? My child, your pet? Um, thanks, I think we aren’t quite on the same wave length.


Things to Say:
1. Yes, I’d like to help. Where are your cleaning supplies?
The first part is, again, awesome. The second part is amazing because it is a concrete and not a vague “how can I help?” Cleaning for me is an amazing thing even if I don’t really care if my  house is clean or not. Strangely a clean toilet or kitchen sink makes me feel like not everything is out of control. Thank you.

2. I brought food for you / us.
Thank you because I most likely forgot to cook or can’t imagine cooking anything or forgot that I’m hungry. Or I just want those 20 minutes my husband would have spent cooking to spend with him, pretending to be adults. It doesn’t matter what you brought. Thank you for bringing something, anything.

3. Breastfeeding takes so much and you are going a great job. (said with awe in voice)
You are so right, it really does. It’s the hardest skill I’ve ever learned and it is an incredible responsibility. I worked really hard to get to this point with my son and sometimes I feel overwhelmed so thank you for the vote of confidence and the encouragement.

4. Wow, its rough that he cries so much. May I carry him around for a while?
You are so right - it is really rough and even if I can’t lay down, just sitting down on the couch with the knowledge that while he isn’t happy, he is getting the movement he wants, helps me. And it is so respectful that you ask to make sure that you carrying him is what I really need. Thank you.

5. It will get better and you are doing a great job.
Again, thank you. If you are a mommy/daddy this means even more. Please repeat this to me over and over and over again. I will believe you and in the moments when I just don‘t know what I‘m doing or why, I will think of you. If you aren’t a mommy/daddy, this is still an awesome thing to say. Often.

6. Wow, you look amazing / You don’t look like you gave birth X weeks ago.
Thank you. I’m really not all that worried about how I look these days but a compliment is always welcome! Feel free to comment on my skin, hair, nails, just about anything.

7. You are really lucky to have your husband. You can tell he loves PJ and you.
Remind me of how lucky I am because I am. I’m too tired and tried to notice it some days and you reminding me - especially with a bit of warmth in your voice - is excellent for me and my marriage.

8. You are doing such an amazing job. / You are an awesome mommy.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Thank you - I can’t see it and I need you to tell me over and over and over again. Thank you. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
.

What about you? What would you add to either or both lists?

Sleep: The Good News

Everyone told us before PJ arrived how important sleep was going to be. At the time I recall getting annoyed with how everyone (it seemed) advised us to "sleep now!" with a knowing smile on their face.

Yeah, they were right. I stand humble before the throne of Need-To-Sleep-a-String-of-Uninterrupted-Hours-Soon (and that with the Mr. taking over one feeding so that I can enjoy one extra hour a night). But the good news is that as PJ grows and gets older and the colic goes down, he is begining to sleep more often and for slightly longer period of times. Not at night, yet, but during the day naps aren't quite as rare. Today he even slept on his own for about 45 minutes. Sweeeeeet.

Yet, his favorite place to sleep continues to be on mommy and daddy.

xo
and in totally unrelated comments: Aren't my boys just absolutely adorable?!?