Butterfly in the Sky

Those who cannot write, read. I made up this rule just now and I think it may only apply to me. That is ok, though because as mentioned before: it’s my blog and I do what I want. My point is that I like to picture myself as this great author waiting for the right inspiration, but the truth is that I’m just not. I’ve started about thirty books and each one is exponentially worse than the one before. I get so excited about the style and the symbolism and motifs and themes that I forget that there needs to be a plot. About a page and a half into my super awesome novel I’ve exhausted all my creative elements, but haven’t introduced a character yet. It is sad because I love to read (hence my rule) and I truly get joy out of analyzing literature, but I can’t reverse the formula to end up with a great book.

great book = relatable characters + relevant conflict + subtle genius + firm handle on English language

[(allegory + figurative language) x overdone themes - talent]^tragic confidence = Trash, a novel by Susan

I’ve come to terms with this, though and I promise not to subject you to any rough drafts of what I deem to be the next Harry Potter or something of the sort. Besides, if I do come up with something super awesome enough for me to post, than it would be super awesome enough for me to publish and make some cash. Whats-her-face is sitting on eleventy billion euro now and if my math is correct, that is roughly infinity dollars US. I wouldn’t just give up a gold mine like that.

All this is to say that I may occasionally do (am currently working on) some book reviews here and I want to make sure that my intent is understood. I do not claim to be any ultimate authority on the subject. I graduated from a mediocre school with a bachelor’s degree in literature (and a minor in American Cultures… surely that will come in handy down the road). I genuinely love books and I’d like to show anyone who is interested that there is often a lot more to them than just an entertaining story. This is also an effort to practice some critical thinking before my brain atrophies completely. I gladly invite comments and suggestions and opposing viewpoints. Please just refrain from personal insults, unless they are funny.

Solid Food is Fun for Everyone!

I know what you're thinking, but I assure you, there is no reason to be concerned. My daughter has not done the crab walk down the stairs... Her head has not spun around...

And she has NOT spewed pea soup all over the place...
She is simply partaking in the best* non cereal food she has ever had!

Avocado!

*Also the only non cereal food she has ever had.

Grow, Baby! Grow!

Warning: Naked baby picture

Monday morning was Baby Girl’s 6 month check up. These are never fun because they almost always involve shots and public nudity (hers not mine… I remain clothed). With so many horrors, the scale at the pediatrician’s office is hardly anything to be concerned about. It is one of those things like signing in at the front or verifying insurance. You never expect that to be the thing that turns the appointment into something scary.

It turns out my little girl is not gaining weight. She is under the 5th percentile in weight, but is in the 10-25th percentile in height. She hasn’t put on a single ounce since her last appointment two months ago, but she has grown 2 inches. At first the doctor seemed surprised, commenting that she doesn’t look skinny. However, once I took the blanket off her she followed up with “oh yes, I can see it in her chest.”

My heart is broken for so many reasons. I know that this is relatively normal, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something wrong; like I’ve let her go hungry. This sweet child, who giggles constantly and sings when she wakes up instead of cries and looks at me like I could fix all the world’s problems, has been hungry this whole time. And I’ve been oblivious.

I’m also mourning the fact that this very likely is the beginning to the end of her breastfeeding. The story of her delivery would require its own post, but let me summarize by saying that my entire body failed on me when it came down to getting the baby out, but I was able to breastfeed. I took so much joy out of providing that for my child. When she was born I couldn’t even hold her, so everyone else had to change her, rock her and swaddle her, but I was the only one that could feed her.

Six months later I still secretly enjoy her unapologetic preference of my feeding her over anyone else. I knew this wouldn’t last forever (high school would have been really weird), but I thought it would last longer than this.

As sad as this is for me, I have to focus on what will keep her healthy, and be grateful for the fact that she is healthy… tiny, but healthy. And so we are onto a new phase in our life: breastfeeding (while it lasts), formula, and solids! I’m already excited about all the new things to introduce her to. I have a new mantra and a new goal. I’ll wipe the tears from my eyes and move forward.

Happy Anniversary!

Three years ago today I married the love of my life. Last week we went out to eat to celebrate and stayed at a hotel downtown. It was fun to be adults and have a conversation that did not include the phrase “do I smell a poo-poo?” But these rare, extravagant evenings always make me think about how much I love our every-day, mundane evenings. While our anniversary date was fun, today was a perfect anniversary, all in itself.

4:45 – I wake up to our dog barking in the backyard. Yes, we have a dog, and no, we don’t normally make him sleep outside, but sometimes when you have a child you forget about other living things under your care; especially when those things smell like death and track mud on your carpet and puke next to the Christmas tree. Anyway, I let Ben in and try to go back to sleep.

5:30 – Little Bit wakes up. She is not feeling well and her last doctor’s visit has me feeding her every chance I get to put some weight on her bones. I feed her and go through my voodoo spells and witchcraft to try to increase my breast milk, which in itself is about a 30 minute process. Luckily I have an awesome husband who understandingly takes care of her while all this is going on. In the middle of this, he greets me with a sleepy, but sincere “Happy Anniversary!”

6:30 – Little girl is showing signs that she is ready for a nap, so I lay her down. This is not normal, but the teething and the cold are wearing her out. I lay back down thinking she’ll wake me up in an hour or two. Meanwhile, my husband kisses me goodbye and heads out the door.

10:00 – I wake up and immediately panic because this is an insane amount of time for her to be napping. I run into her room, just to find her peacefully dreaming with her two tastiest fingers in her mouth. At this point I’m fully awake, with an extra 3 hours of sleep in me. I head back into the kitchen and find that my husband has left flowers and chocolate on the counter for me.

12:00 – I run some errands and head up to Daddy’s work so we can go take Little Bit to meet Santa as a family. She is of course, dressed in her fanciest Christmas suit, but has managed to dismantle the bows and cover the front of it in snot. Still, we press on because Santa is magical, and a little snot doesn’t bother him.

2:00 – We finally get to Santa’s Shop in our area, high-fiving each other for timing it just right to avoid a line. We walk up to the front where an elf informs us that Santa had some business at the North Pole to tend to, but that he’ll be back tomorrow. I ask her if he is ok and she tells me that Santa is 72 years old and his immune system isn’t what it used to be. Apparently Santa is bothered by a little snot.

3:00 – I’m back home and the Little One is taking another nap. I put some hours in with work

6:00 – We head to dinner with Mimi and Papa. We take turns walking the baby around the restaurant as it’s past her bedtime and she is grumpy. Our waiter brings us a small bottle of champagne to celebrate and I drink about 1/3 of my glass while the baby tries to take it from me.

9:00 – I sit and reflect on my blog

The fact that we swapped some rings in front of a bunch of people three years ago isn’t really that big of a deal. What is worth celebrating are days like today. This is our shared life: these experiences are no longer my own. It makes the bad times half as bad and the good times twice as good.

Merry Christmas to All

Last year my husband and I had so much fun decorating our Christmas tree. Of course I was three months pregnant at the time and we were super excited about the idea of Christmas with a baby the following year. Fast forward to present day, we are currently living in our dream scenario. We have a beautiful baby and it is her first Christmas. We have "baby's first Christmas" ornaments coming out of our ears. We have adorable red and green pajamas. We even have had an unseasonably cold December thus far to make things a little more magical. One thing we are lacking in is sleep.

The little one is teething and she is not pleased. This has been going on for about two weeks now and it is beginning to take its tole. We are exhausted. This is the busy season for my husband and I have started putting in some hours at work. There is little sleep at night and no recovery during the day. My little Christmas dream is not looking that reachable.

The other day I thought I'd make an attempt at decorating the tree. I wanted it to go like this...

Instead I find this...


Still, I can't bring myself to be discouraged by all this. I have never been more excited about Christmas, even if our house is in shambles and our tree is half decorated and the stockings keep falling and my child looks like this...

Hi-Ho

My last day of work was the Friday before my daughter was born. She will be six months old soon, so if my math is correct (said the English major), it has been about six months since I’ve held a job. Lately things have been a bit tight. My husband is a fantastic, hard-working, committed provider for our family. He is, however, self-employed and the money doesn’t come as steadily as it might otherwise. At the same time, I am a relentless curmudgeon about spending and the holidays only exacerbate my condition.

After much discussion, I have decided to go back to work part time and from home. As you can imagine, these specifications do not make me the top candidate for potential employers. Still, I have been working on my resume tirelessly (searching Google for templates) and asking around for any clues to breaking into this elusive industry (sorry facebook friends).

While updating my resume it struck me that this job search business is really not as simple as it should be. I in no way align myself to any politically driven percentage (I am the Switzerland of all percentages), but I can definitely relate to the frustration of looking for a job.

Recently I read an article that explained how the previous generation inadvertently programmed their children into this “failure to launch.” Now, the article was mostly aimed at getting a chuckle rather than a Pulitzer, but it made some interesting points. How many of my followers out there (millions of you by my estimates) heard from your parents that you can get any job you want once you get your degree? Or how many heard things like “you don’t want to flip burgers for a living, do you?” In reality, a college degree hardly guarantees anything other than debt and flipping burgers may not be such a bad idea, especially if it is the only job available.

Don’t misunderstand me. I am all for higher education, and I understand the merits of pushing your children toward higher goals. However, it makes sense that this mindset has perhaps contributed to the current state of things.

At the same time, I could read an article about how lazy and entitled my generation is and I can’t really argue with that either. The day I finished my degree I not-so-metaphorically walked out of the school with a smile on my face waiting for a six-figure job to hit me while crossing the street. I didn’t expect to have to work so hard for a meager income after I had worked so hard for a degree. And if I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t work that hard for my degree.

I guess it is all about perspective.

I wish I had some shockingly brilliant solutions to the world’s problems, but I don’t. Afterall, I went to an American public university, not Hogwarts.

All I can do right now is be thankful that my search has been somewhat fruitful. I’ll be doing my old job from home. I think the most important job qualifications you can have are luck, and perhaps some humility. I wish both of these on my generation.

Dear Sunday

I’d like to use Sundays as they were intended: a time of rest and meditation. It is my blog, after all. I do what I want. So this is my first “Dear Sunday.”

Have you ever stopped to appreciate the fact that each week is seven days? This cyclical nature of life, I believe, is one of God's most merciful acts on humanity. It's as if He programmed in moments to recharge or even reset, knowing we might need a second chance (or third or fourth or nineteenth). Just think of all the references to new life that invoke time: a new season, New Year’s resolutions, tomorrow is a brand new day! God has so instilled himself in this world of ours that the very time that flows over us can't help but reflect His nature of rebirth and renewal.

See! Now Monday doesn’t seem so bad.

Nice to Meet You

It occurred to me I should introduce myself. My name is Susan. I have been married for almost 3 years. I had a little girl in June of this year. Those are the facts and nothing more. The facts tell you pretty much nothing about me. The truths in my life are far more interesting.

My name is Susan and I have a love/hate relationship with the name. As a child I always hated it. It is old-timey and has the word "ooze" in it. Later in life I began to appreciate its uniqueness. I realize it is a well-known name, but not an often used one among mothers in the mid 80's. At this point I mostly love the name. The truth is, it suits me far better than Kirsten or Megan would have.

I have been married for almost 3 years to my soul-mate. He is a beautiful, complicated, strong man. He is flawed, just like me. Our marriage is flawed just as any human institution is. However, this man's heart was designed with mine in mind. I count myself blessed to have found him and I struggle daily with not taking that blessing for granted. He is my hero and my one true love. Our souls are tied together in a way that cannot be undone (and believe me, that knot has been tested). The truth is, this man loves me more than I ever knew I could be humanly loved, and I love him more than I ever knew I could.

Exhibit A: Young Love

In addition to a great husband, I have a perfect little daughter. She is everything. She is a sleepy, gummy smile in the morning. She is a grumpy furrowed brow in the afternoon. She is uncontrollable giggles in the evening. And she is a sleeping angel at night. She is the spitting image of her father with my ears (you’ll grow into them some day). She speaks only in babbles and coos, but if I could understand her language, I'm certain it would be poetry and love songs. Love is something that I can never quite define as it continues to grow and evolve and bloom into something new and better than before. I love this little girl with all of my heart. She is the physical embodiment of mine and my husband’s love for each other. The truth is, in her 5 ½ months she has taught me more about life than I ever imagined I would teach her in her lifetime under my care.

Exhibit B: Grumpy Furrowed Brow

This is my life right now. It seems pretty simple spelled out like this. I could probably get some serious critiques from the feminists out there for defining myself by my marriage and my child. I'm ok with it. There is more to me and I have all the time in the world to go into detail. This post, however, is dedicated to what my life is dedicated to. The truth is, I am happier living for my family than I ever was living for myself.

Formalities are behind us. Now I feel like old friends, anonymous late-night blog surfer. Welcome to my life.

Just This

I have caved. I resisted as long as I could, but today was the day that my resolve was tested and broken. Today I begin my blog and thus, step into the 21st century (flying car not included). I had resigned myself to being old (26) and set in my ways (lazy) and therefore unable and unwilling to learn new technologies like this whole internet fad. However, I think it is here to stay and I may as well make it work for me.

I have several friends with beautiful blogs and clever posts and pretty pictures. I hope to get there one day, but for now I am satisfied with starting this up and capitalizing the first letter in each sentence.

I have a great life and a beautiful family and plenty to write about. I am notoriously flaky about things like this, so I'm not making any promises. So here it goes. Cross your fingers.