milo tells a story

goodbye, swing

Well, it's official.

Milo is too big for his swing.

Goodbye, swing. We loved you. Thanks for helping us through those first crazy months. Thanks for being a safe place to put the baby while Mommy took a shower. Thanks for being there in the middle of the night if we needed you.

We will miss you.

P.S. Where does time go?

grand gestures

Yesterday I was in a bad spot.

Milo missed his morning nap because we were at the grocery store and when I tried to put him down for his afternoon nap, he cried off and on for two hours. He was so exhausted by the time he fell asleep, that he slept until 5 p.m. Sleeping until 5 pushed his bedtime back, which meant he was overtired and fussy and waking up every 45 minutes or so after I put him down. I fed him at 9 and, as he was drifting off to sleep, my dog started scratching himself (a very normal behavior for a dog, mind you). But he kept scratching. And scratching. And scratching. And goodgod does he need to scratch himself RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE BABY's DOOR??? His scratching (and thus collar jingling) sent me into a tail spin.

David took the baby from me and soothed him to sleep. And then he found me crying in bed. I told him I hated my life.

(I don't really hate my life. But exhaustion and hormones and dogs with jingly collars can skew your perspective.)

And that was when my husband intervened in a big way.

Pop culture would have us believe that grand, romantic gestures include flowers and chocolates and diamonds. Grand gestures are public. And grand.

But I don't need flowers and chocolates and diamonds. Here is how I know my husband loves me:

He hugged me. And then he turned off the baby monitor. And he took his pillow off the bed. And he moved to the couch. And he told me to close the door , forget we had a baby, and go to sleep.

And he slept on the couch. My husband slept on the couch so he could hear the baby. And when the baby cried, David fed him. And I slept.

I slept. Uninterrupted. (Ok, minus a quick 2 a.m. feeding that I chose to do in order to sleep comfortably. If you're a breastfeeding mother, you understand.)

And this morning, when I woke up at 7 a.m., I felt like a different person. My brain felt different. The world seemed less blurry. I was even able to be kind to my dog.

And that, my friends, is the story of my husband, his love for me, and the night he made a grand, romantic gesture.

one year ago

November 3, 2009

Dear Baby,

This morning we found out you are coming. I can't believe it! I'm so blessed and happy. You are making us parents.

I love you,

Your mom

milo's first halloween

milo, the pea pod

milo's not sure halloween is his favorite holiday.

maybe next year when he's old enough for candy.

cutest pea pod ever.

mom had no way of knowing this costume would be WAY TOO HOT.

grandma took us to "boo at the zoo." milo liked the animals.

glimpses

Monday night I went to an Ingrid Michaelson concert in Boulder. If you can't tell from my playlist, I love Ingrid Michaelson.

The concert didn't start until 9. Um, hello, I'm usually in BED by 9:30! But this night was special.

I ditched the mama sweats that usually appear by 6 p.m. and put on real people clothes. (Ok, real people clothes-ish. I still can't zip any of my pants.) I left my hubby and my baby at home and headed to Boulder with my friend, Lorissa.

We ate dinner in Boulder. Nobody started crying as soon as I sat down to eat. I didn't have to eat with one hand and hold a baby with the other. I even drank a diet coke! And got a REFILL!

The concert was ridiculously fun. No one there knew I had a baby. Or that I was "Milo's mom." (Except I still have a bump. Can you call it a "baby bump" when you're no longer pregnant? I have a baby. And a bump. But I'm not sure it counts as a baby bump. People who don't know I have a baby at home just assume I eat too many break-and-bake cookies. Ok, lucky guess.)

Ingrid sang some of my favorites. I think she is such a talented song writer and hearing her live felt like someone was cracking me open a bit. I got a little teary-eyed when she sang "Maybe."

I stayed out way too late. I felt like a different person. Or maybe, I felt like my old self. I caught a glimpse of my former life. A life without a baby. I had a blast.

But also, I missed him.

When I got home, I tiptoed in his room and kissed his tiny head.

Glimpses are important. And fun. And needed every now and then.

"Maybe, in the future, I'm gonna come back." Maybe I'll wear pants that zip and stay out late. But, for now, being in the present with this baby is pretty darn wonderful.

milo's third month