cheesin’

Here are a few pictures to commemorate January.  Good thing we will see my sister in February since we don’t seem to be so good at the picture taking and she takes hundreds.

chillin’ like a villian until I pull my pacifier out of my own mouth

cheese!

bright eyes

snoozing

me

Yesterday I had a friend and her two kids over and I fixed them macaroni & cheese and a good old can of green beans for lunch.

This is a big deal.

This is a big deal because I have a deep desire to be known as an amazing hostess.  In my hearts of hearts, I care not if there is dust on my coffee table – unless people are coming over, or fingerprints on the mirrors – unless people are coming over, or dirty dishes in the sink – unless people are coming over, or even that red ring around the drain in the bathroom sink – unless people are coming over.

I think you get the idea.

So, when I knew Rach was coming over, I carefully planned the big cleaning event and a trip to the grocery store to buy the items to complete the perfect lunch menu.  Except that I didn’t do either.

I fought the urge to be the better me in favor of just being me.  Maybe someday they’ll be one and the same, but for now they are certainly not.

And so, I made mac & cheese – which happened to be one of her daughter’s favorite meals.  Maybe next time they come I’ll make her other favorite meal.  Because I make killer toast.

crisis mode

I don’t have much to say today.

I found out last night that some friends from college suddenly lost their 1 month old baby girl.  I haven’t been able to think of much else since.  I’ve been praying, but it doesn’t quite seem like enough.  When I go into crisis mode, I lay on the sofa and zone out.  When people in my life go into crisis mode, I want to jump into action – cook a meal, clean their house, take care of their older kids, etc.

I can’t do any of those things in this situation.

So I just sit and hold my own baby a little tighter and I kneel.

on my third wedding anniversary: to all the men I’ve loved before

Dear C,

I thought you were the one for me when you caught that fly in your pencil box in kindergarten and showed it to me.  What an act of chivalry.  We had the shared experience of the lice outbreak and lived to tell about it.  It was too bad that your family moved away the next year.

Peace, Love & Insects,

Mouse

Dear N,

Ours was an epic romance.  It started in pre-school when I would spank you with my shoes.  We were off and on until 12th grade when we were finally officially on and you were my first real boyfriend.  You gave me my first kiss on the couch in your parents’ basement while we were watching The Breakfast Club on tv.  Long distance hammered the final nail in our relationship coffin.

Peace, Love & Coming of Age,

Mouse

Dear J,

We made great study partners in AP Calculus, but I never should have dated you in college – long distance or not, but you definitely broke my heart.  Now you are gay.  No wonder you never kissed me.

Peace, Love & Invisible Numbers,

Mouse

Dear B,

I never thought we would date or marry, but lots of other people did.  They never understood our friends-with-benefits relationship.  You were the best boy friend I ever had and I love that we both got our brown-skinned daughters the same year.

Peace, Love & After-Hours Kisses on Golf Courses,

Mouse

Dear R,

We never dated, we never lived in the same place, we never went to the same school; but more than anyone else in my life, I was certain that I would marry you.  You were friends in college with all of my friends from high school.  We had so much in common and got along so well whenever we saw each other.  You married a hot, blonde California girl.  Good for you.  You’re a great guy.

Peace, Love & Fantasizing,

Mouse

Dear B,

You are the best friend I ever had and the most tender father I’ve ever witnessed.  I’m so glad you asked me out after I embarrassed myself in front of you by airing all of my dirty laundry and telling all of my shameful secrets.  It’s been 4 years since that first date and 3 years since our wedding.  1 broken bone, 3 lost babies, 1 sweet daughter, 3 new vehicles, 1 less kidney, 1 new house, lots of tears and even more kisses later I wonder what the next 50 years hold for us.  We are a great match, and I can have the most fun doing absolutely nothing with you.  I love that I was your first girlfriend, your first kiss and your first wife.  You, my handsome husband are my first and only love.

Peace, Love & More Love,

Mouse

research

I got an email from a college girlfriend.  She and her husband are pondering kids.  She asked me a few simple questions that didn’t end up being so simple after all.

Question #1

What do you enjoy most about your kid?

Question #2

How has life changed (besides everything)?

So, if you’ve got a kid, what are your answers?  If you don’t have a kid, what do you imagine your answers to be?

don’t say I never gave you anything

quick & easy deliciousness:

unroll a tube of crescent rolls and lay them flat on a cookie sheet

liberally butter the uncooked dough

liberally sprinkle sugar and cinnamon on the buttered, uncooked dough

bake at 350 until just brown around the edges

on mlk day: from a white-skinned mother to a brown-skinned daughter

This seemed particularly significant to me this year.

perspective

Perspective…it’s a tricky little bug, isn’t it?

I went to my first mom’s group this week – despite the fact that I didn’t want to – and I ran into pretty much the same thing I run into with the mommy-bloggers on the internet.

Moms in real life are the same as moms on the internet?  Shocker, I know.

Okay, I’m going to take a brief moment for a disclaimer:

1. I understand that I’ve been doing this mom thing for all of 7.5 weeks.
2. I understand that I’ve been doing this mom thing with an infant who doesn’t get into stuff and pretty much eats, sleeps, poops, lather, rinse, repeat.

That being said, I have to say that I don’t get all of these moms who spend the majority of their time with other moms complaining about their kids/life as a mom.  I know most of these people CHOSE to get pregnant ON PURPOSE and CHOSE to have their children with whatever age difference separates them ON PURPOSE.

Here’s the thing.  I know that everyone’s reality is their own reality.  I know that my reality is that it took me more time, energy and heartache to achieve mom status than it does for the average mom; and that obviously this has shaped and colored the glasses through which I see my circumstances.  I wept tears of joy that first night that I was up with Baby Swiss in the hospital as she fussed and fussed.  I had been dreaming about being up in the night with a fussy baby.  Likewise, I’m in no hurry for Baby Swiss to sleep through the night or reach whatever else the next developmental milestone is supposed to be.  I’ve been so looking forward to nighttime feedings and spit up on my carpet and extra laundry and eating a cold supper because of attending to the baby.

That’s my reality.  I know that it is hard to understand if you didn’t live it.

Rather than cast too much judgment on the mommy-whiners out there, I’m trying to look at my life and see the things that I’m taking for granted and make some corrections.

Once I have that perfected though, look out mommy-whiners, I’m coming after you.

love

My husband had very little baby experience prior to 11.24.08.  He had held a brand new baby exactly once and he had played with our niece and nephew in their baby/toddler years.  He had never fed, burped or changed anyone other than himself.

At the hospital when Baby Swiss was born, there is one word to describe his care-taking of our new daughter.

Precious.

He watched, learned, asked questions, etc. eager to be able to meet each and every one of his tiny daughter’s needs.

He was a natural.

When we brought her home, he was holding her and marveling at her (as new parents are wont to do) and he asked me the sweetest, cutest, most earnest question about infant care.

“Can I kiss her?”

places I’ve been

In the midst of my year o’ lost babies, many words of attempted comfort were spoken to me.  While all intentions were good, few did much in the way of providing comfort.  The best thing anyone said to me came from a surprising source – a brash co-worker who never delayed in speaking her mind:

“I’ve been there.  It sucks.”

Somehow those five words, lacking in eloquence, did more for my fragile heart than any other well-thought out encouragement, sympathy or condolence.  There was no allusion to a grander spiritual plan, there was no mention of hope or joy or peace.  There was just camaraderie and understanding.

I’ve found myself using those 5 words too many times in the last few weeks (isn’t just once, too many?).

To an acquaintance from college who is a friend on facebook: “I’ve been there.  It sucks.”

To a friend of a friend who just lost a second baby: “I’ve been there.  It sucks.”

To a friend who just days ago held my daughter and loved on her with tears just beneath the surface as she awaited her D & C the next day: “I’ve been there.  It sucks.”

It will forever be a place that I’ve been on my way through life – a dotted line on the map stretching out from home three different times.  I’ve been there.  It sucks.