the day after

Milo got his two month shots yesterday.

This is us today.

We survived.

Barely.

Bumbo Love

Have you heard

of

the Bumbo seat?

This

kid

LOVES

it.

And I

LOVE

this

kid.

Can

you

tell?

"How I spent my weekend." By Milo Baker

I picked apples with Mom and Dad. (Except it's too late in apple picking season to get any good ones. Dad found two.)

I went to the Royal Gorge. (Except it's $25 a person to walk across the bridge. My mom and dad are cheap skates so we just took pictures from a distance.)

I went to Georgetown for the Aspen Fest. (The trees were pretty but there was too much traffic on the way back to Denver. I got hungry. I cried.)

The end.

"Google doesn't have children."

Reason #2.3 million why I love Iliff?

Your advisor doesn't forget about you after you graduate and "sends" this to you on facebook.

Love it.

(For maximum viewing enjoyment, turn off the music player so you can hear the music in the video)

A Mama Confession: This is hard.

(Lest you read this post and get the impression I think motherhood is a cake walk...)

I know Milo is a good baby. I love him. I am lucky to be his mom. But holymarymotherofjesus, being a mama is hard.

Last night I had to pray to God. For real. Because at 4:30 a.m. I needed help. I've done enough spiritual discernment to know I shouldn't expect immediacy from God--that when I ask God for something I shouldn't expect immediate (if any) results. But I think God might have a clause for new mothers because last night I prayed--out loud--"HELP!" I prayed that God would zap me immediately with the patience I needed to endure Milo's 4 a.m. feeding without screaming at him or leaving him in his crib while I drove to Mexico.

Like I said, Milo's a good baby. But last night at 4:30, when Milo was awake for the third time and the world's largest booger was stuck in his right nostril making it impossible for him to breathe and eat at the same time and David, who is way better than me at extracting boogers with the suction bulb thingy, was at work, we both cried.

I'm sure Milo thinks it's way harder to be a baby than it is to be a mama.

Lucky for both of us, God sensed my urgency and responded. I found enough patience and kindness to finish Milo's feeding, ginormous booger and all.

This morning I needed out of the house. David needed to sleep and I needed out of the house. So I packed Milo up and took him to a breastfeeding group that my friend took me to last month. We're not really having trouble with breastfeeding, I just wanted to be surrounded by other non-baby human beings.

I cannot tell you how comforting it is to be supported by other mothers. The woman who sat next to me started crying as soon as she sat down and told me she is just. so. tired. And I didn't even know her name but I felt like I could have hugged her and said, "I know how you feel, sister!"

It was so nice hearing that other mothers have babies who only sleep 3 hours at a time at night and who also want to eat every 2-2.5 hours. (Babywise and other such "resources" make me feel like he should be on a better feeding schedule and should be sleeping through the night by now.) I've decided that most mothers are flooded with guilt and anxiety and worry because, let's be honest, keeping another human being alive is hard. freaking. work.

So, Mr. Babywise author man, unless you are volunteering to come over tonight at 4 a.m. and suction my baby's nose, feed him a bottle, and change his diaper while I sleep, I've had just about enough of you thank you very much.

milo's second month

Happy 2 months, Milo!

Happy day, Milo! You are two months old today!

I can’t believe your dad and I have managed to keep you alive for 62 days. And not only that, you are healthy and growing and happy.

You really are a sweet, sweet baby Milo. I don’t pretend to know how we ended up with such a perfect baby, but you really are just so sweet.

Saturday morning I knew you were awake but I didn’t go in to get you right away. When I did go in your room, I could see you were happily kicking your legs and sucking on your fingers and when I got to the side of your crib, baby, you looked up, saw me, and smiled.

No, you beamed.

You smiled so big I thought my heart might explode. It was the first time I really feel like you knew I was your mom. Like, “Hello! You are the woman who has been caring for me all this time and I think I love you! You are my mama!”

You’re changing so fast Milo and I feel so lucky to see you everyday and watch you change. Honestly, you do something every day that makes me say “Well, this is new!” Like you are now holding objects—mostly your blanket or your lovey—and you like to rub them against your face or put them in your mouth. And I bought you a $5 play gym at a consignment sale that has a mirror on it and so now you like to look at yourself and study your own face.

And you are smiling. All the time. And one time I heard you laugh. I laid you in the cradle in our bedroom and Zoe came to the side of the cradle where your hand was sticking out between the spindles. She started licking you furiously and you thought it was hilarious. You let out a squeal of delight that was so fantastic I can still hear it in my mind.

But it’s not just you who is changing, baby. I’m changing too. You are making me a better person. Less selfish. More patient. Less anxious. And utterly filled with gratitude. I catch myself dozens of times a day feeling so thankful that all I can do is whisper a “thank you” prayer and send it up into the heavens. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, to deserve the joy you bring me. I don’t know how my heart can possibly feel this full.

My mother-friend from seminary recognizes this feeling and calls it grace.

I think she’s right.

I love you, Milo!

Love, Mama