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...