It's Hard Being Two

Lily and I pulled up to the library this morning thirty minutes before it opened. Luckily there's a playground right behind the building, so she swung and we slid until we could go inside. Then we spent over an hour in the library playing on the computer, browsing books, and coloring. When we got home, Lily reached up for my hand and said, "I'm tired." I was tired too.

After a three-hour-plus nap, I woke her. Then it was snack, drink, and toddler terribleness: the uncontrollable crying, the disobedience, the asking to be put into jammies at four o'clock. And, lately, there's something about the thirty minutes or so before dinner that makes Lily absolutely lose it. We're all struggling to keep up.

Today we went round and round about her hitting the dog. I kept trying to remind myself to be gentle with her, but continually correcting the same behavior over and over takes it toll. Recently I read an essay by a woman about embracing who we are as mothers. We are not the women we used to be, and the need to find ourselves outside of our relationships with our husbands or children is futile because they reflect who we are now; they are who we are.

Who I am now is so different than I was two years ago before I was a mother and incomprehensibly different than six years ago before I was a wife. Our move back "home" has only exasperated that point. I am not who I was when I left. When I left I was a grad student who fell in love; I was a writer with no plan. Now I am so much more, and I am so much more because of Adam and because of Lily. Who knew that I would change so much?

Still, being the mother of a toddler is taxing. I went back to look up this passage from The Baby Whisperer for Toddlers (which I read so long ago, I'm not sure I remember much). It's an email from a mom to the baby whisperer:

One way that we were able to deal with the "terrible two's," as they have so ineptly been labeled, is to call them "the terrific two's." I thought of my son as having PMS round the clock for a year and was able to identify with his tantrums, meltdowns, and "poor" behavior. I thought of myself during PMS and how helpless I feel, how hormonal I am, and how my emotions are up one minute and down the next. Just think, being two years old and having no idea why you feel the way you do and all these people getting mad or frustrated with you and you can't explain how you feel or what you really want because you have no stinking idea how to feel better! I'm 32 and know what I'm going through, and still feel as though I can't handle it. I cannot even begin to imagine how a toddler feels. So we would just pray and love our son through it all. We had given him a lot of nurturing beforehand and so to love him through the frustrations, to redirect him when he was in danger, to reason with him as best we could, and to support each other through it all was just another simple progression.

In the moment, it is difficult to keep this in mind, but now is the time for loving and training and correcting. Even though the end of the day may leave me wanting to throw my hands up in the air, it also leaves me with a little hand placed in mine as we watch another episode of Sesame Street and work our way toward bedtime. As hard as it can get, it can get just as sweet. That is a very good thing.

Gentleness

Today was yet another in a series of days that began too early, and today was the earliest of all. A few minutes before five o'clock, Lily woke calling for me. And she wouldn't go back to sleep. At six we finally got up. She was overtired and I was overtired and, by the time Adam returned from work at 7:45, I had already had my fill.

My first impulse when tired is to be sharp, impatient, and rude. This doesn't work with a toddler. It doesn't work with other people either, but other people are able to back off and leave me alone. My daughter can't, and she shouldn't have to. I snapped at her once and realized I had to hold it together. I clung to a word I think of often when mothering: gentleness. Being gentle with Lily is always easier, for her and me. That I should be gentle with everyone, not only my child, is something I'm having to learn, long after I should have learned it and long after I knew that it is always the better way. "Let your gentleness be evident to all" reverberates in my mind. 

We ended up spending the afternoon feeding the ducks and walking along the canal. We walked to cafe, ordered a coffee and chocolate milk, and waited for a train to pass so Lily could tell me, "I love choo choos." On the way back, I pushed her stroller and she walked. She waved and said hi to everyone we met. She petted dogs and counted bicycles, and I reminded myself to smile and simply enjoy this. I may be tired as all get out, but it shouldn't overshadow this beautiful life. This little girl, who also was tired, was making the best of it, living in the moment like only a small child can. 

Motherhood and Peace

This weekend I had to go back and reread this article. I've been feeling a little wound up, much like I did a year and a half ago. I've been trying to find a way to articulate how I've been feeling and to define why I am the kind of mother I am. Last week, all I wanted was to quiet everything -- the books and blogs I've read, the advice, the alternative ways of doing things. I kept asking myself, Why do I stay home with Lily, really? Why do I focus so much on her, often at the expense of other things I'd rather be doing? I picked up my copy of The Mission of Motherhood, read a few pages, and had to put it down. As much as I believe there are eternal consequences to my daily acts as a mother, it was starting to make me a little batty.

Adam took Lily to the lake for a day and a half, and I had the weekend to myself. After my initial excitement wore off (and it took awhile), I had some time to sort through things. The biggest reason I want to be at home with my kid is so we can have peace. I lose sight of that too often. I want my family to have a home base, a safe place where we can all rest and know that things are taken care of and where we can all be loved. I am the one who provides that for us. I am the one who sets the tone, either of peacefulness or of batty-ness. I need to keep that better in mind.

Back to the article. The last time I read it, I was deciding whether to continue teaching or to solely stay at home. I chose the latter, but eventually steered back to the former. In many ways, it seems easier in many ways to find other work that offers worldly affirmation and a distraction from the difficultly of mothering. But it's all about balance, which I struggle daily to find.

This quote struck me most this go-around:

Sustainable faith comes from having a coherent worldview, mentoring relationships and community. As I think about motherhood as a vocation from this lens, I can see where all three are essential for women—young or old—to find peace and sustainability in what is arguably a rather chaotic enterprise.

We are missing the community/mentoring aspect right now, as we try to find a church and rebuild relationships here. Having other folks to talk to, face to face, will no doubt help even things out. In the meantime, I've got to remember to relax and keep the peace.

On Compromise

Too often I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? I get stressed out over things that are not mine to worry about. I take on too much. I end up with knots in my stomach, unable to rest. These are not good things. These are not things I'm proud of.

Recently we've been attending a church that's working through Revelation. The sermons have been amazing. One Sunday I wrote myself a note: Whose acceptance am I looking for? Are my habits in life dictated by a desire to please God or to be held in esteem by people? The sermon was on compromise.

And I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? And to what end? I want to use my talents and abilities. I love to write, to teach, to take photographs. I love being a mom and showing my daughter the world. I love reading everything I can get my hands on. But what of these things are most important? If I'm using my talents to write but I'm stressed out fitting deadlines around mothering my child, is it worth it? If what I'm reading is stirring up guilt about the choices I make, should I be reading these things?

A few weeks ago, a good friend encouraged me to keep fighting the good fight. Often I remind myself of just that. 

Lily is all worked up before bed. She can't settle down. I go into her room, scoop her up from her bed, and hold her in my arms. She lays her head on my shoulder and I rub her back. She sucks her thumb, I hum softly. When she's ready, she lifts her head, plants a smooch on my lips, and I place her back in bed and don't hear another peep until morning. That is when I know what is important in my life.

On Bicycling and Staying Home

There's a man I see everyday. He and his son ride a tandem bicycle down our street twice a day -- once to school and once back. The bicycle is adult sized in the front and child sized in the back. After dropping off his boy, the father rides home, back up our street, and I don't see him again until about 2:15. Then, off he goes.

Which got me thinking about what the father must do for work. It must be something flexible and at home. Maybe he's a stay-at-home dad or maybe he's a freelance writer or designer. Whatever it is, he's always there riding with his kid to school in the morning and home in the afternoon.

Which got me thinking about hard choices. Not to beat a dead horse, but I'm really glad I (mostly) stay home with Lily. It's taken some creative finagling. It's taken sacrifice for Adam and for me. It can be simultaneously fun and mind numbing, but I think it's a hard choice worth making.

Seeing the man on the bicycle makes me happy because I can see that being me in the future. Dropping the kids off at school and doing my own freelance work. Riding my bike or walking to pick up the kids after school. Keeping a flexible schedule so that I can be available for them. I think that's an important part of being a mom -- being available. Lily doesn't need me every second of the day, but when she does, I'm usually around. Right where I want to be.

Time Together

When I was a child I thought adults had nothing to worry about. I thought that once you reach adulthood all of the challenges of growing up were over so life must get easier. I thought this even though my parents got divorced.

I guess they hid the tough-ness of adulthood pretty well because any of us who are adults know that it isn't easy. I'm not here to whine about it, but to say that it's hard work making all these adult decisions and balancing work and home and family.

This week was a tough one. It was the first week I had multiple writing deadlines and meetings, in addition to teaching. I used every spare moment to get everything that needed doing done. Every spare moment, that is, except for the ones that might interfere in our family time.

I realized that the one thing I'm unwilling to give up is quality time with Lily. I will give up exercise and time alone. I will give up sleep. But when I'm spending time with my daughter, that's all that I'm doing. I don't sit at the computer or make phone calls or think about looming deadlines. When I'm with Lily, I'm simply with Lily.

But Lily goes to mom's day out three days a week, on the two mornings I teach and one extra morning that is supposedly time for me (the last two weeks it wasn't). I have time to do my work while she's at "school." If I need to, I also work while she's napping or after she's gone to bed.

So when I'm home with Lily, that's it. We read and draw and play. We have handfuls of time together, and I try to make the most of it. The busier I get though, the less willing I am to give up that time with her. What I'm getting at is that I want to be the best mom I can and that's a priority over the other things in my life. I work hard and I don't miss deadlines, but Lily and Adam are always at the top of my list.

We're all happier that way.

Getting Things Done

December is a month of lists: gifts to buy, decorations to hang, writing deadlines, end of the semester wrap-up, books to read, resolutions, who to send Christmas cards. Add to that all the things I hope to do while I'm between semesters and have extra time on my hands, and it can be overwhelming. I'd like to be writing. I'd like to be making. I'd like to be taking photographs. And, to be honest, I'd like to do them when I want, not whenever my toddler will let me. I guess I don't really have that selfless thing quite down yet.

After picking up some new fabric, I returned home with plans to make a garland for our almost-bare Christmas tree. I set out to work on it while Lily napped, but nap time was shorter than I expected. Silly me to think I could keep working after giving Lily a snack and laying out all of her favorite toys. Instead of playing with them, which I told her to do at least three thousand times, she stood underfoot whining and eventually settling into a full-blown tantrum.

Having considered having a tantrum of my own, I decided instead to get out the crayons and stickers and paper, and sat Lily down at the table. She still doesn't get the whole coloring thing, but she quietly busied herself so I could keep working on my project. Why I didn't start her off coloring, I'm not sure. The day before we had gone through a similar ordeal while I was working on an essay. Lesson learned, I'd say.

Quote, Unquote

"God designed the family to be the stabilizing structure in our culture in which to build those vital relationships and also to teach the art of true intimacy. In the context of family, children learn how to be themselves, how to live peacefully with others, how to give and receive affection, how to care for each other. They develop both the personal security and the relational skills that are necessary to attach themselves to another person, as well as the wisdom to choose healthy attachments over unhealthy ones. When children have a safe haven -- a place to be protected from the storms of life; a place to be emotionally, mentally, and spiritually encouraged; a place where they enjoy the time and attention from the important people in their lives -- and time in which to mature, then they will have a good opportunity to become emotionally healthy and flourishing human beings."

-p. 122, The Mission of Motherhood

A Sick Day

Today I woke to a screaming baby and no power. Not a good thing when the predicted temperature is in the mid-nineties. We made it through breakfast, and I was thankful for a gas stove I could light so I could make my coffee (and also for my French press cozy). By 8:15 Lily was down for a nap, and she woke with a mild rash growing across her body. I called the doctor and hoped by our return the power and air conditioning would be back on.

Turns out Lily has "hand, foot, and mouth" virus and a low-grade fever. The only cure: lots of cuddles, napping, and children's motrin. Thankfully the power was on when we returned home, so our home-bound sick day isn't accompanied by the prospect of sweating to death. And our day has been filled with many naps, many cuddles, and many verses of "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus".

It reminds me of this verse by St. Francis:

O Divine Master, ask that I not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying to self that we are reborn
to eternal life.

Amen.

Motion

A photograph where this kid is motionless is hard to come by these days. Often I look at her smiling up at me, when the light hits her just right, and wonder where in the world my camera is. By the time I find it, the moment is over and she's buzzing about.

Lily gets around pretty quickly these days, even occasionally forsaking her beloved scooch for crawling. She pulls up easily on everything, including us. And yesterday, after crawling all over the library, Adam and I were reading to her and she stood up and let go. She stood up on her own, and then she clapped. I had to choke back tears. She is changing every day, and I get to see it unfold. Every minute. And I'm so grateful.

My pastor handed off to me The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson, and I've had my nose in it ever since.

The hard, daily, repetitive work of making a home a haven, providing healthy meals, correcting and training little ones, and constantly cleaning up messes is perceived as menial labor instead of the stuff from which godliness is built. -p.35

Instead of pursuing a career with mothering tucked around the edges, [we should choose] to focus first on the mission of motherhood. -p.44

We need to commit to living as mothers with undivided hearts -- dedicating ourselves fully to the task of building a home and nurturing our children. -p.49

As glad as I am to be teaching again part time in the fall, I am glad to get a little perspective here. Being a mom is priority one, not something I give my leftovers to after the "real" work is done. I know that it's going to be hard, but I'm hoping to get all my teaching-related tasks done away from our home while I'm on campus. Lily will be in Mom's Day Out, and though that may not be ideal, a few hours away from home interacting with other kids can't be bad.

Motherhood is not easy so far, and from what I hear it doesn't get easier, but I want to be joyful in each moment I have with Lily and with Adam. In the struggles and the pain and the wonder of it all, we have each other, and no other job -- not writing or teaching or anything else -- could be more significant.

And most important now: rest, which Clarkson blogged about this week (timely, no?).

Less Like a Baby

The other day after putting Lily's hair up in the best we can do for pigtails so far -- two barrettes on the side of her head to catch her curls -- I snapped this photo. It's a bit blurry, and at first I wasn't sure about it. But the more I looked at it the more it occurred to me that here she looks less like a baby and more like a kid, pigtails and all.

Since Lily turned one almost a month ago, we've been in what I've been calling infant-toddler purgatory. She is getting ready to walk and is babbling nonstop but she's not quite there. And it's hard on us all. Add in a few screaming fits and our days can be quite interesting. More interesting, though, when we giggle together (which is often) or chase each other around the house or dump out all her blocks only to put them back (and dump them out again).

I've often been referring back to an email from a mom to the baby whisperer:

One way that we were able to deal with the "terrible two's," as they have so ineptly been labeled, is to call them "the terrific two's." I thought of my son as having PMS round the clock for a year and was able to identify with his tantrums, meltdowns, and "poor" behavior. I thought of myself during PMS and how helpless I feel, how hormonal I am, and how my emotions are up one minute and down the next. Just think, being two years old and having no idea why you feel the way you do and all these people getting mad or frustrated with you and you can't explain how you feel or what you really want because you have no stinking idea how to feel better! I'm 32 and know what I'm going through, and still feel as though I can't handle it. I cannot even begin to imagine how a toddler feels. So we would just pray and love our son through it all. We had given him a lot of nurturing beforehand and so to love him through the frustrations, to redirect him when he was in danger, to reason with him as best we could, and to support each other through it all was just another simple progression.

She may not be in the terrible two's yet, but parenting her is more challenging as she changes. But it's so much more challenging for her, and that's important to keep in mind.

Kind Words

When Adam and I went to our premarital counseling, the most important thing impressed upon us was the importance of guarding the unity of our marriage. This includes not badmouthing each other and keeping the private matters of our marriage private. In the almost five years of our married life, we've worked hard to do just that. And since becoming a family of three, I'd like to think that the idea of guarding our unity extends to our little one as well.

At a moms' group I attended recently, I was disturbed to find myself sitting at a table of women who did nothing but openly disrespect their children and husbands. To make matters worse, they each tried to outdo the others with their outrageous stories, and I got up to sit at another table. I just couldn't take it.

Being a wife and a mother is hard work, but it brings me so much joy. Adam and Lily are the people I share my life with, the ones I'm committed to, the ones I'm sticking with. And I hope to never speak so harshly about them, especially to other people.

And what's more, I enjoy them. Even in the craziness, I enjoy them.

Anatomy of an Afternoon

Because it's good to get away for a bit, and because I'm still feeling the postparty crash, and because I don't want to end up a runaway mom, I had to get out of the house yesterday. Alone. So I packed the computer and a notebook and headed to the bookstore.

I perused the magazines and grabbed a copy of Writer's Digest because Anne Lamott is on the cover and Mothering. The interview with Lamott is brief, about her return to writing fiction. Her best advice for writers is still to write sh*tty first drafts and to write every day, the same advice she wrote about some seventeen years ago in Bird by Bird.

Mothering has a lengthy article on cloth diapering, one I'd recommend to anyone who is thinking about cloth diapering in the future. It's quite comprehensive and takes up about twenty pages. It's followed by another article on Elimination Communication (or How to Teach Your Infant to Use the Potty). The gist is you figure out when your child is "eliminating", make a cue noise like psssss, and hold the kid over the toilet. It's Pavlovian baby training, and it makes a lot of sense. Still, it's weird.

After grabbing a coffee, I flipped open my computer and read this chapter from The Artist's Way. The book is about unlocking your creativity and it's predicated on two things: morning pages (handwriting three pages first thing every morning -- no filter, just writing) and artist dates with yourself. It's really simple and it's supposed to give your inner artist a chance to play. If you're a creative type, you should give it a glance.
Through my new obsession I learned that it's 'Roid Week on Flickr. In order to participate you have to have an actual instant film camera, not just an app on your smartphone, so I'm out. But I did a quick peek on eBay to see how much Polaroid cameras cost, and they are cheap! The kicker is that the film is expensive (because they didn't make it for a while, though I think that's not true anymore). After telling Adam, he said his parents might still have their old Polaroid and maybe I could have it. Um, yes, please.

In the meantime, my Droid will have to do.

One Thing or Another

Thankfully, my new phone takes halfway decent photos. Today we went to the park to have lunch and listen to music with friends, and I realized on the way that I forgot my fancy camera. No problem. Snap photo, upload to Flickr, edit later and -- voila! -- our picnic lunch.

The internal clock in Lily's head seems to be sounding that she's about to turn one because we're in the throes of transition -- from sitting to standing, from two naps a day to one, from being agreeable to exerting an opinion.

A friend just told me that from one year old to two is the best of babyhood, and I'm looking forward to it, but I still ran to the library to pick up The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer for Toddlers hoping to get some guidance for what's to come. I'm trying to stay mindful that everything is brand new to Lily and she's not usually being annoying for the sake of annoying me. She wants to explore and learn and practice weird things over and over. Like holding a lip gloss and a chapstick in one hand when last week she could only hold one at a time. Not a big deal to me because I could probably hold six, but to her it's quite a feat.

The difficulty is coming in rearranging the nap schedule. Lily has been taking a morning nap and fighting the afternoon one, so I'm trying to get her to push through to noon and take one long nap. Not as easy as it sounds, but we're getting there. Of course, there are afternoons like today when I lay her down and then hear her bouncing around her crib and giggling. I mean, she looks like she's having a lot of fun in there but settle down already.

The Routine

I'd like to say that there's a sense of rhythm around here -- a routine more than a schedule to keep it all together. For the last year, our daily rhythm has been based on the EASY routine in The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer (hands down, the most helpful baby book I read). Baby Eats, has Active time, Sleeps, and then Mom gets her "You" time. Though Lily is almost a year old, that's still what we go by: get up, eat, play, nap, then do it again. Only now she plays independently and naps twice a day.

I try to keep things pretty loose in terms of what we do day to day. I'm really not a schedule kind of person anyway, so we stick to the basic framework of the day and go from there. Lately I've been keeping a to-do list for each day, to keep myself on track with freelancing assignments I've picked up and activities we have planned for the week. But it's all flexible. If I have a terrible night's sleep or Lily is particularly fussy one day, it's no big deal. Everything gets done one way or another.

Two things I always try to do are keep the TV off and spend some time outside. We find plenty to keep us busy without having to watch the tube, and a little Vitamin D is good for us. We go for a walk or I lay out a blanket and read while Lily plays.

It took a while to figure this all out. I wish I had known to be a bit more patient when Lily was first born and I couldn't seem to get it together. We struggled through many months, but we seem to have hit our stride. No doubt things will change in the next few months as Lily starts walking and gives up her morning nap, but as we close in on our first year together, things are working out pretty well.

Motherhood, Writing, and Vocation

I have an essay today in The Curator on motherhood, writing, and vocation. Motherhood is one of those things that's hard to talk about. It's different for each woman, and it's up to each of us to figure out the rhythm and routine that works best. I by no means have it all figured out, but I've learned a lot about myself in the past months about who I am and what my life's work is. And this is it: to take care of Lily and to write.

What I love about all of it is that becoming a mother is so different for everyone. Priorities change, perspective changes, but some things stay the same no matter what, like who we are as people. Being a mother shouldn't require total abandonment of everything non-mommy related, and there must be a way to integrate it all. And I'm on the long journey of figuring out what that means for me.

Mom 2.0

Last night I didn't sleep much. I lay in bed awake, breathing slowly, and counting the minutes until sleep came. It didn't. I finished my book and flipped on the TV, and eventually fell asleep on the couch.

This morning Lily woke earlier than usual. I contemplated leaving her in her crib long enough for her to drift back to sleep, but we have plans today.

We sat at the table. I clicked through my usual morning routine while she stuffed Cheerios in her mouth. Then she broke into uncontrollable crying. I stopped, looked her square in the face, and said, "You are okay. There's nothing wrong with you." But she continued to cry, so I placed her in my lap and let her pick Cheerios out of my hand. She stopped crying.

I took her into the shower with me. She sat in her Bumbo seat, and I quickly realized she was cold even though the shower was quite warm. I bent down and splashed her, and then I washed her hair. She grappled her way into my arms, her hair soapy and mine dripping, and we stood in the warm water. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the water. She stuck her tongue out, too. And we stood there. Together.

Later, after I put her down for a nap, I came across this video.



I wouldn't trade this life for anything.

Motherhood as Vocation

A week and a half ago, I came across an article titled "Motherhood as Vocation." The article discusses the difficulty in being a stay-at-home mom in a work-dominated culture, especially for women who are educated and have found meaningful work outside of the home before becoming mothers. A group of women in the Washington D.C. area gathered to explore and discuss their shared vocation. The article affirms that the work of a stay-at-home mom is of utmost importance, just as important as being a doctor or a lawyer or a novelist. It is work that is shaped by the mother's experiences and education, and is by no means inferior to other types of work. The idea that stay-at-home moms aren't doing "real work" is a crock.

What really got me was a quote at the end of the article from G.K. Chesterton:

"How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the rule of three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone?"

Get I get an amen?

I read that and immediately thought of my students. How can I be the professor of 50 or so students, a task that's demanding much of my attention and eating away my sanity, when my primary obligation is to my daughter and my husband? How can I offer myself so completely to an endeavor that's proving to be wholly unfruitful? The long and the short of it is, I can't. And as much as I want to teach and ultimately enjoy it, now is not the right time.

The big question I've had through this is about the importance of my education. If I'm just going to be a stay-at-home mom, what was the point of going to college and grad school? If I'm honest, that was my biggest deterrent to giving up teaching, even at the expense of my wavering mental health. What I'm learning is that my time in college and graduate school has shaped who I am, and what I've learned and done in my life is going to shape who I am as a mother. And who I am is not validated by what I do for "real work."

Thanks be to God.

Dear Lily (at Four Months)

Dear Lily,

Today you are four months old. My, how time flies. Every week I count how many I've known you, but they are starting to get too numerous, so now I'll be counting months. Four months!

Yesterday, I asked Daddy if he thinks motherhood suits me. You would think I had asked him if the sky was blue. Yes, of course. I guess I just needed a little affirmation.

A long time ago, before you showed up, I wasn't actually sure I would ever want to be a mother. This world is a crazy place and I didn't know if it would be fair to bring a child into it. But my heart stirred and stirred, and I realized that bringing you into the world could make it a better place. That is my hope for you and for our family, that the world would be better because we are here.

This month, you learned all sorts of tricks! You giggled for the first time, though you still don't do it very often. You also realized that you can squeal and for days all you did was squeal. Daddy and I would laugh whenever you did it, especially when we had laid you down in bed and your little baby sounds broke the silence.

You also reach out and touch my face now. When I am feeding you, occasionally you'll stop, look up at me, and reach for my face. I kiss your hand and pretend to eat it, and you always smile. This morning, though, you reached for my hot coffee and I realized that this is the beginning of the end.

We think you are going to lose your gummy smile to some teeth soon. You gnaw on Daddy's and my fingers almost nonstop. And the drool! I never knew so much saliva could come out of one little person.

Being your mommy is the best job I've ever had. Even on the darkest of days, knowing I can kiss and cuddle you makes my entire life worthwhile. I look at you and know that someday you'll grow up and have a baby of your own, and you'll know this joy for yourself. But for now you get to be the recipient of all my love and attention.

I love you, Peanut!

Mommy

Adjusting

In a sermon that I heard a few years ago, a pastor said that when a couple has a baby their lives shouldn't stop. They should continue with their commitments and not just hole themselves up while adjusting to their growing family. I've thought about this a lot lately, and how it's total poppycock.

I don't mean to complain, but motherhood is exhausting, especially breastfeeding. It's a lovely concept to be the only one who can feed a child, but in the middle of the night while my husband is sound asleep and I have to get up for an hour to feed Lily, it sucks.

I'm not really sure how life's responsibilities could be kept up with a tiny, new person added to the mix, and I'm certainly not equipped to continue on as I did before. My days are spent trying to nap when Lily naps, feeding her a lot, and lulling her to sleep. Occasionally, I fit in a phone call, do a load of laundry, have a meaningful conversation with Adam, or check my Facebook account, but it's rare. It's obvious to me that this pastor (a man, no less) didn't know what he was talking about.

It's not all bad -- it's just an adjustment. Suddenly, I'm mom. And I'm always mom, whether my baby sleeps or not, whether we go out or stay in, whether I have another set of hands in the house or I'm doing it by myself.

But the kid is cute, and it helps to see this every day.