too tired to think of a title

I love my son.

But, OMG.

He is transitioning from babyhood to toddlerdom.

And it

is

exhausting.

I know mamas with twins. And I know mamas with more than one kid.

They are my heroes.

Because seriously.

I can't really argue that being a mama is harder than working full-time. But I do know that, when I had a full-time job, I got the nights and weekends off. Mamas don't get days off. Milo doesn't care if it's Saturday. He thinks 5:45 is a perfectly fine hour to greet the morning, Saturday or not.

Milo is cutting another tooth. And he won't leave the cable jack alone. And last night I rushed him to my friend's house (she's a doctor) because Milo had these weird spots on his chest and belly that I thought might be internal bleeding. And she listened to his breathing and said he was probably fine. It was probably just a bruise. And not to worry. But I could wake up every few hours and make sure his spleen wasn't swollen.

Which I did.

And then today, his "bruise" came off in the bathtub. I think it was a stain from his new vitamin drops that I bought him.

Not because the pediatrician said he needed vitamin drops. But because I read that babies can suffer from iron deficiency and become anemic.

I worry about what to feed him.

Today I fed him ground up flaxseed. It's supposedly high in fatty acids. But I think it gave him a belly ache.

Because when I put him down for his afternoon nap, he talked in his crib for an hour, slept for 30 minutes, and then screamed bloody murder for 40 more minutes, even when I held him.

Lucky thing his bruise washed off or we'd be in the ER right now having his spleen checked out.

It has been approximately 68 days (give or take two weeks) since David and I got out without the baby.

I think we need a date night.

And I need a glass of wine.

happy 9 months, milo!

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

Milo, your ninth month was big. Huge. Epic, really.

This month you started eating blueberries, brussel sprouts, cherries, yellow squash, eggplant, and yogurt.

You cut your second tooth. You now have two adorable teeth on the bottom.

But the BIG news is that you started crawling! And, once you discovered mobility, you immediately started pulling up on things. You love to pull up on something—anything-- and sit on your knees. And you love to investigate. You pull up by the TV, the refrigerator, the dishwasher, the table, the bathtub. You’ve lost interest in your toys—you’d much rather play with the laundry Mama is trying to fold or the groceries Mama is trying to put away or the DVD player or the dog bowl or the remote control or Mama’s flip flops…!

And even though it makes life way harder for your Mama now that you are crawling, I secretly love watching you decide to go after something, crawl to it, and then investigate it. I love your curiosity! I love that you are delighted by the simple things in your world. (I also love that giving you two metal measuring cups to bang together buys me enough time to go to the bathroom!)

Milo, it has been so fun to watch you move.

But, I’ll be honest.

The day you learned to crawl, I cried.

Mostly it was out of pride. I know all babies learn to crawl. But you are my baby and watching my baby move across the floor on his own felt like a really big deal.

I mostly felt pride. But I also felt a pang of sadness.

Because for nine months I kept you safe inside my body. You were tucked beneath my heart. Snug and warm. And I pumped you full of vitamins and love.

And then you came out. And that was a little bit scary. (Ok, a LOT scary) I had to make sure I didn’t drop you. But I didn’t. And, for the most part, your dad and I felt like we could still keep you safe. For nine more months we could hold you tight and keep you close.

But now.

Now you can move.

On your own.

And you can pull up. Which means you also fall over. A lot. And you bump your head. And you pinch your fingers. And you scrape your knees. And I have to watch and make sure you don’t find something tiny that you can put in your mouth and choke on.

And it makes me want to wrap you up in bubble wrap. Or, even better, stick you in a padded box forever so you can’t get hurt.

But I know that’s not what’s best for you. There’s a reason babies learn to crawl. Because the momentum of life is always forward.

Your learning to crawl has made me mindful of these words from Kahlil Gibran:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,

not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

for even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves the bow that is stable.

I know you’re only nine months old. You’re still a baby. But mamas have this keen ability to see the future. To feel the future. And, today, I can feel you moving forward. You are my living arrow, baby boy. And I feel so lucky to be your bow.

I love you,

Mama

milo's ninth month

i think he hates technology

a totally random and stupid post

I have a lot on my mind tonight.

I have two dear friends who are having babies soon. One is so close to having twin baby girls that it could be happening while I'm writing this post.

I'm thinking about birth.

And how sacred and awesome it is.

And I had coffee with a new mama today.

It made me realize how far I've come.

How far all mamas go when they become mamas and raise babies.

I've come almost nine months far.

And I'm thinking about David's interview on Monday.

And how we might be living in KC soon.

And how that's mostly good.

But also kind of sometimes a lot of sad, too.

And I'm thinking about money.

And how I wish there was more of it.

But I guess there's always enough of it.

Kind of.

Which I'm thankful for.

And I'm thankful for love.

Because there always seems to be more than enough of that.

Which I'm super SUPER thankful for.

the end.

i'm moving to canada

I don't often talk about politics on this blog.

But, I swear.

If Donald Trump becomes president,

I'm MOVING TO CANADA!!!

playing small

David took pictures of Milo & me the other day. And, when I uploaded them to our computer, I remembered why I never take pictures of myself anymore.

For one, the day that David took these pictures, I had a gigantic pimple.

But a pimple is temporary. The short, post-baby hairs that are growing at my part feel like they will be around forever. (Nobody tells you when you are pregnant that one of the side effects of giving birth is losing all the hair you didn't lose when you were pregnant and then dealing with the new, fuzzy hair that grows in its place.)

And then, of course, there is the post-baby baby belly that refuses to leave. Despite my running and my denying myself cupcakes (and the fact that my baby is almost nine months old), my midsection feels forever marked by the fact that I grew and birthed a baby.

All this to say, I had no intention of posting the pictures David took.

But then two things happened.

One, I couldn't get over how much these pictures seemed to capture the love I feel for my son. The joy I feel when I am with him. And, I believe, there is evidence in these pictures of how much my son loves me.

I realized that I need more pictures of the two of us. We have thousands (literally THOUSANDS) of pictures of Milo at every stage in his young life. And we have tons of pictures of him with the people who love him. And only a few pictures of Milo with his mama.

He is growing up fast. This must be remedied.

The other thing that happened is I was reading my Lenten book.

And I came across this quote from Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I love my son.

I want him to grow up believing he has the glory of God within him.

I want him to know he is loved.

Do I believe he's smart? Yes. Sweet? Yes. Funny? Yes. Kind? Yes. Talented? Yes.

Is that why I love him?

No.

I love him because he is Milo.

And this, I believe, is the way God loves us. Simply because we are.

And, if I want my son to believe in God's love and if I want him to believe God's goodness is inside him...

I have to believe it about myself.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

So, here are the pictures of me and my son...

I am brilliant.

I am gorgeous.

I am talented.

I am fabulous.

I am a child of God.

And so are you.