Work it baby

There are a million things I do not like about my job. But the flexible schedule and baby friendly policy keeps me there. For you. Your dad gets off work after his 48 hour shift at 8am. I start work at 6am. I trust no one to watch you except our small circle of family. So on those nights I put you to bed early, wake you up at 5am. You do a lot of stretching, and yawning, and cooing. I feed you as the sun slides up the sky and pushes night into day. I watch the pinks and purples spread out and fade to baby blue while you drink your bottle. Then I pop you into the carseat (you actually do kind of pop in there, like a little sleepy, fuzzy puzzle piece) and we head down the hill to work. That 7 minute commute puts you right back to sleep.

Work at 6am is slow and quiet. Only a few lights are on and the only sound to be heard is the light keyboard tapping of my fellow early-riser co-workers. I set your seat on my desk and rock you while I work. My cube neighbor could possibly have the loudest voice I have ever heard and as the day progresses and the chances you waking up increase, the mama bear rumbles awake in me. About an hour into your time on my desk, said co-worker wanders over to peek at you. I always have you carefully covered with your dark blanket and instead of just pulling the corner back to see you, she just yanks it off and your eyes flutter open. It takes every muscle in my body not to shove her nose into her brain. I quickly cover you back up and start madly rocking. She continues on down the aisle, saying "Good Morning!" to everyone and their dog (no, we really can bring our dogs and yes, she really says hello to them all). No one is ready to be social at 6:30am. I hate chipper people when chipperness is not necessary.

At 8:30am, your dad texts me to let me know he is in the parking lot I wisk you out into the cool morning, away from the florescent lights and the co-irkers, to your father who has not see you in 2 days. Even though you are always sleeping, he too must peek at you and smile. Of course the mama bear in me is calmed, knowing my baby is safe with her papa bear.

We only have to do this work-baby dance 4 days a month but I do love that it is the two of us, doing it together. On the days you don't come, your little corner on my desk feels empty. Some days there is no where I would rather be home snuggling you but I try to remember I am working so you can have an amazing life. So here's hoping no one ends up with their nose in their brain.

The Perfect Song

I remember songs. If I hear it once, I will always remember it. This is especially true of movie songs, whether they be scores or ballads. Your dad is the same way with faces. He remembers every face. He thinks that his skill is much more helpful than mine.

But here is the deal.

You are asleep in your bassinet and I am curled on the couch having just heard snippets of a familiar song on a commercial. The movie was Vanilla Sky- one I love. The song, called Elevator Beat, plays throughout the movie but it is especially poignant at the end. The main character has nothing left, no love, no friends, no family. He leaps into the abyss to start a new life, as a new man.

I am listening to it now, the rising and falling of the piano notes in sync with your whispering breaths. This song reminded me of that ending scene and brought salty, warm tears down my cheeks for happiness that I could die tomorrow and have lived the fullest life having held you in my arms.

My life is priceless. I am so lucky. I have you. You are my child.

There is no wealth, no other treasure that would ever make me want to leap away from this life. Having smelled your sweet, fluffy post bath hair. Kissed your full cheeks. Made you smile. Watch you track my voice from across the room. Ride around in the crook of my arm. Rise and fall on my chest during one of your many cat naps. I want for nothing.

So I say, my musical memory is pretty useful tonight. Goodnight little.

Hey there baby coo

You started cooing this week. I tell you all kinds of stories when you are awake. We talk about mountains and the sea and puppies and snow. You listen to me and coo back at me. This makes me the happiest mama on the planet because I know we are communicating even though we are speaking different languages (well you are making yours up as you go, cheater.)

You felt California sand between your toes last week. That is not true. The last thing I would have wanted to do is try to clean sand out of your toes in the rental car. But you did have your lunch with the sweet ocean air blowing through your fluffy hair. You will not remember but you seemed content there. It was like a giant sleep sheep (the sleep sheep you sleep with makes waves sounds). I think you learned to coo in California. Maybe you will be drawn to the ocean when you are older like I always was. I promise we will take you there all the time so you really can feel sand between your toes, but not until you can clean it out yourself :)

All the cliques are true...

You are, by far, the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Today you were a bit of a fussbunny. Actually, you fussed the entire time you were awake. It was almost impossible to put you down for naps because you kept waking yourself up. You were only content to sleep across my lap. I would wait for you to fall into your deep, infant sleep and I would lay you in your bed and the second you realize my warmth was gone, you would start a'whalin.

I love you even when you have been yelling in my ear for a hour. The type of love I have for you is so different then the type of love I have for anyone else. It is almost like you are an extension of my own body. When I leave the house without you, I feel like I left my arm at home and it is difficult to think of anything but getting back to you.

As far as babies go, you are pretty boring right now. You eat, sleep, poop (well only about every 7 days, you clogged up little turtle) and fuss. I am home with you all day and I love it. I am trying to get you on some kind of schedule but like a true wee babe, you make most of the rules and I follow them. When you are hungry, YOU ARE HUNGRY, FEED ME NOW! and I do. But sometimes, momma knows best. Like when I know you are so tired but you keep waking yourself up, I help you fall and stay asleep. We make a pretty good team but to be honest I am torn. I cannot wait for you to get older so we play together. But I know every minute that goes by is lost forever and I can never get it back.

I already feel like you are growing up too fast. So I try to slow down and enjoy each moment, even the frustrating ones because there is no where I would rather be than with you. I love you baby girl.

One Month Old

One month ago you were born. You arrived in two hours and you were perfect. Our journey since then has been quite a roller coaster ride. I have been learning how to be a mother and you have been learning how to be a baby outside my belly. Some of my favorite times are when we are awake in the early morning. You are contentedly munching and I look out the glass door to the back yard. The sun is always starting to peak through the trees, little spurts of pink light. I am tracing small circles on your back and your dad is snoring peacefully. This is my new happiness.

37 Weeks

Right now you are perfect. You have all your toes, all your fingers. Your brain is functioning and you are the average, perfect size for your gestational age. You will not be perfect forever though- since you are securely curled in my belly, I know little about your personality. No one is perfect so I am trying to enjoy you while you cannot cry, yell or swat at me (except if you count those rib kicks). As a woman, you are coming into a world where judgment begins immediately. Are you cute enough, dressed well enough, meeting your milestone, are you fat? As you grow, it will feel exhausting but the only thing you can really know is yourself. I will try to be a role model for you but I too am far from perfect. I thought I that I would start by listing my flaws, I am sure when you are older you will hold them against me but that is ok:

1. It is very difficult for me to forgive people. When I meet someone new, they are automatically on my good side unless they do something obviously offensive to me. These offenses can be small (being to talkative) or large (hurting my family). Once someone has crossed onto my bad side, it can take months for me to forgive them and until I get there, all I can do is glare at them with my overly expressive face. This does not do wonders for my reputation as many of the people on my bad list do not know they are there or why they are there and so my constant cold shoulder can feel discouraging.

2. I take pride on my ability to talk my way out of problems. I have always been an excellent communicator (hopefully you do not inherit this same trait or our arguments will last forever). Put me in front of a crowd of thousands and I can tell a funny story without feeling nervous. On a smaller scale, I can plow you over with my verbiage and before you know it, I have cleared my name and bamboozled you with words while probably making you wonder if YOU did something wrong.

3. I hate my cellulite. I will preach endless to you about loving your body but I do not have the best relationship with my own. I used to have cute, muscular legs until I started taking birth control and exercised less and the cellulite came- big lumpy lumps residing in my thighs. I stopped wearing short shorts and bathing suits became a non-option. Right now, with you living in my belly, I have experienced more unpleasant body changes. I have “worrisome” water retention in my sausage legs, new veins on my boobs and I have no idea what the stretched out state of my belly will be once you emerge. Your dad is usually helpful but will sometimes become nostalgic when we are looking back my 17 year old body, saying things like, “look at your legs!” or “your arms are so muscular!”. Blah, that is men for you.

4. I am lazy. I have a good job but one of my favorite things about it is that it does not take too much effort. I am able to come to work and then when I leave, I leave work here. There is never enough stress to bring home with me. I am lazy about my appearance. I wake up at 6:40 to arrive at work at 7am. Your dad makes fun of my fuzzy hair and I know he wishes I dressed up more but I just do not care to put the effort in. I am always looking for the easiest, cheapest, least stressful way to do everything.

5. I hate people telling me what to do. I am very defensive and actually physically change into a much scarier person if I am asked to perform a chore I do not want to do or questioned on any of my past behavior. I suppose this makes me pompous.

There is good list to get started. I am sure I have hundreds more depending on who you talk to, your dad, my parents, my sister, coworkers and maybe even strangers. Overall, I am happy with myself. I think I am good person, a good friend and I hope to be a good mother to you but I doubt I will ever be a “perfect” anything and neither will you. But that is ok; we can deal with our imperfections together.

35 Weeks

Today I sent your dad the following text message: "2 weeks until baby is full term!" and he wrote back: "I cannot wait to meet our little rumpathorn!". Ok, what the heck is a rumpathorn right? Well get used to it. Everyone in your family makes up their own words all the time. Your nicknames will not be the standard Sweetheart, Honey or Kiddo. I hope you don't mind. I am Rone, your dad is Tube, your grandpa is Bagel, your grandmother is Blutz and your aunt is Little Dog- see where I am going with this?

In 14 days you will be fully baked and ready to be born- that is not to say you will come then. It could be as long as 45 days from today but I am hoping you pop out a teensy bit early just because my belly is running out of room. So come when you are ready and be ready for your crazy name.