Back in the Saddle Again

Today I am supposed to send thank you notes to five people that I appreciate. This was a really hard task, not because I didn’t want to write the notes –I could have written volumes. In fact, I love nothing more than sitting down to write, well, anything. I also didn’t have any trouble coming up with people I could thank. I could have written ten cards with very little thought. What I didn’t have was time. I didn’t have the kind of uninterrupted time, the kind of cognitive awake time, the kind of un-worn out time that would allow me to adequately appreciate another person. The reason? The reason makes a convincing impression of a screech owl running its talons down the chalkboard while watching a cat fight. Only louder. It’s not full on crying, just the sound of complete and utter discontent. Repeated.

It’s not just a baby with an undesirable soundtrack, it’s a baby that needs to nurse all the time, because in God’s infinite “wisdom” (and this is where you imagine my seven year old using air quotes) He thought that it would be a great idea to give everyone a great big ol’ mouth full of teeth and then make it a total body thrill ride to get them. It’s like Space Mountain, but instead of pretty lights and that whooshy, exhilirating feeling in your stomach, there’s a crowbar trying to hack its way through your gum-line. What little dignity you have is then whittled away as the Niagra Falls of drool pours over your bottom lip and your poop turns green. Finally, just to cap it off, how about if we repeat it with EVERY SINGLE TOOTH! I love God. I really do, but I can tell you that teething, it’s on the list of things that I am NOT afraid to take Him to task on when I die, right after morning sickness and right before mosquitoes.

So here I am. Profoundly sleep deprived and questioning my religion.

I did get those thank you notes written. The writing may not be pretty. But, I can promise you that just thinking about writing them made me grateful for the people in my life. It made me wish that I could tell them all the time. Write them notes all the time. Have annual parades in their honor. Or at least, take them on Space Mountain.

Fall Update 2009

Dear Christian and Olivia,

Christian, you just started second grade this year. It excites me to no end to watch your world get bigger -to see all the ways in which you are different from your dad and me. I love that you are finding your own way. You ask for what you want and what you need. You find new things to you love, like P.E. and playing tether ball and science. You just started skateboarding, and while you are a natural, my coordinated little boy, it simply makes my heart skip beat after beat watching you. The myriad of pads and the helmet don’t help me feel better. I pretend that it doesn’t scare me. How am I doing?

You can read! READ! Can you believe it? You work so hard at school and that little part of you that is conscious about rules makes you an awfully good student. And yet, you find school interesting, and I think it makes you happy. A good part of that is because your school is amazing. It‘s easy to see how much they love their kids. It generally takes an amazing amount of self-control on my part not to hug your principal Every. Single. Day. Truthfully, the only thing that stops me is the not wanting you to be the kid with the crazy mom who‘s always hugging the principal. It’s just that your dad and I feel so fortunate when we think about your school, and we’re grateful for the people in it. For the record, I don’t think your dad wants to hug the principal.

You are such an enthusiastic learner. You want to know about EVERYTHING…RIGHT NOW. It’s so exciting to watch you learn and grow. We are so proud of your persistence! Also, you are an amazing big brother: loving, affectionate, sweet and funny.


Olivia, you are almost 4 months old, and we are so lucky that you are here. Most certainly there have been bumps in the road as your parents fumbled around like sleep-deprived zombies. But you are here, and nothing that I feared before you were born has come to pass. What has happened, dear little one, is that you are magic. You are simply a warm, smiling, soft, beautiful force that has come into our lives and made a space for yourself in the tight little circle of our family. You have brought us to where we were always supposed to be, and it is magic there. We are us, only bigger. And we are so very happy you came.

Your beauty takes my breath away. Is there even a way to describe how good the top of your head smells? Seriously, bonding and glue -that comes from the way you smell, little girl. Christian loves you. He was unbelievably excited before you came, and to be honest, I thought by now he would be tired of you. He’s not. He loves you. He remarks all the time on how cute you are. He loves to make you smile and laugh; which you do. You are all about the smiling right now. You already believe in sleep in a way that your brother never did. I love you for that.

The other day we stopped in at Christian’s old preschool for a visit. When the director came to gave us a big hug and took you from my arms, your lip began to quiver and you screamed with such a red-faced, angry fury, that we had to go down stairs and then eventually leave. Wow! As crazy and unnecessary as that was, I can only hope that you keep that voice and that assurance of what you want your whole life through. And, I must mean that, because it’s only going to make my life really, really hard.

Still Olivia and Christian, I want so many things for you. Most of all I want you to have resiliency. I know that you’re going to need it in this world. I also want you to have the MOST AMAZING ADVENTURES! I want you to have the deep satisfaction that comes from being brave and seeing the world. I want you to know the absolute joy of wandering the streets of a tiny Italian town after a long dinner with your best friend. I want you to see the sunrise in as many places as you can, or if you are your mother’s kids, as many sunsets. It sounds cliché, but if I could give you and your brother anything, it would be the world.
Each new place broadens who you are, how you are, and most importantly, the way that you see others -your tolerance increases, your empathy increases, your wonder increases, your joy increases. This will make your life richer than anything else that you will do -anything that is, other than your family.

Thank you for making us a family!

Love,
Mom

Yet

This isn't my first blog. But it is my first blog entry, in a new blog, since having a baby almost 4 months ago. Even now I am wondering how I'll ever have time to sit down and get all of the posts out of my head an into this bl...
...og. I just changed a diaper, dressed the baby, and let the dog in so she could eat breakfast. I'm just about to start the laundry. Olivia is fussing, because it's time for her to take a nap and it's been delayed by said poopy diaper changing and dog letting in. Yep. I did just end that sentence with a preposition. It's a good thing that in my copious amounts of spare time, I sometimes read this blog: http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/, and sometimes I even listen to it. Look up prepositions. It's a heated debate.

So you can see that there is more to come, and some of it will be coherent. Some of it will be interesting and some of it will be total crap, because I am sleep deprived. I am breast feeding. I drink a lot of coffee, and I know that I don't get enough exercise. Yet.