Tradition Like Tevye

My husband says not to worry. Traditions come, they happen, they don’t need creating. But I think maybe creating must happen just a bit. I want to be our own family, have our own set of “things we do every year since I can remember.” But how to start? And when to start? When Nixon can remember them? Now, so we say – “you’ve done this every year since you were born!”? Or in a few years when he cares?

Tyler and I have a tradition to open all our Christmas presents one night a few days early because Christmas day is a busy one with both our families close by. I don’t think this tradition will last once Santa makes his debut. That’s about us in the tradition department. Oh, man.

I look back on my growing up years and a few things stick out to me most. Sleeping under the Christmas tree with my sisters and listening to the song, “Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer” on my radio alarm clock – I think that’s when I knew… Acting out the Nativity while my dad read. I always hear his voice when I read those verses. Hunting for our Easter baskets cleverly hidden in the oven, the piano or somewhere like it. Camping at Bear Lake, where I discovered beauty and raspberry shakes. So many good times.

Will we have that? I guess more than anything I’m excited. What will they be? What will Nixon (and other children, maybe…) remember? I hope it turns out magical. I really do. 

Frustrated

Nixon is frustrated. He wants to do a lot of things that he just can’t. He can’t crawl no matter how hard he tries. He can’t roll front to back and he certainly can’t stay happy past 8 p.m. I wish I could help him, but I’m no use. He has to learn.

I am frustrated with my body as well. Frustrated that it can’t do what it used to do. Like stand on one leg to put pants on or push or carry heavy things. Like sprint or bounce my baby long without searing pain. My pelvic is broken (not really, just undone). My tailbone is broken (yes, really). I feel broken. I limit myself to a short run twice a week, because anymore than that is just painful and any less is mentally too rough.

I so looked forward to the end of pregnancy and the ability to have no worry about hurting the child inside with activity. Although I exercised until three days before Nixon was born, I went light. I was hesitant. I went for a long bike ride the day before I miscarried a baby. Hesitation tends to result.

And now. Now my mind feels like it’s time to break free. I want to do so many things. I really feel I could run for hours. But I can’t. The doctor says maybe some day. Physical therapy first, then injections, then we’ll see. I have never been so thwarted.

Nixon and me. We’re in the same boat. Frustrated. He because he is learning and it’s hard being a little guy. Me because I thought I knew, and I’m dealing with the unexpected. It’s never been my strongest trait. 

Teaching Moment

Five months. What a trip. When we first brought Nixon home, I was pretty scared. I’ve cared for many babies, but every other time I got to give them back. And these babies weren’t counting on me to teach them anything. This one is.

I realize Nixon’s not so old and how many things can I really teach him? But there is so much he’s learning. Like sleeping. Somehow three weeks ago he decided he needs a big meal around 5:30 a.m. if he was to continue sleeping. I’m not sure how to teach him otherwise.

And lately he’s been rolling over a lot. Back to front, back to front. He has a few issues with this. One, he usually has a toy in his hand and can’t get his one arm out from underneath him. Two, when he gets to his stomach, he’s convinced he should either roll back or crawl, but doesn’t know how to do either. So what do I do? Let him get super frustrated until he learns? Or help him back to a more suitable position? Heck if I know.

I want to make sure he sees, loves and is grateful for the world around him. I want him to be happy and secure. I want him to grow and learn. And for now, I just want him to be a baby whose favorite thing in the world is hanging out with his mom and dad.

I love this little guy. He laughs at my jokes, loves it when I sing and has the cutest voice when he talks. Oh and don’t get me started on how perfect he and Tyler are together. That kid got the best dad ever. I hope together we can teach him everything he needs to know. At this point, he’s still alive with no lasting injury – I’d say we mark the first five down as a success.

A Game and a Guess

I’ve been thinking about how little I knew and little I know about raising a child. Some of what I believed were researched, educated comments have really come back to bite me.

“Oh, babies need to cry it out it’s the only way they’ll learn to sleep. So you just let them cry, no big deal.” Sure, yes. Sometimes babies need to fuss and sleep is a vital skill, so you do what you must to get there. But letting them cry is SO DANG HARD. I tried it for the first time at four weeks old – could not handle it. I told Tyler he was too young, I’d try at two months. At two I said he’s so small and colicky and sad, but definitely by at least four months old I’ll let him cry.

Well he’s pushing four and a half months at this point and the best I can do is let him fuss/cry for five minute increments. Then I rub his head, his tummy and go back after five minutes. I respect his need to sleep, and I guess it’s a plus that I rarely pick him up out of bed. We’ve worked hard at a routine, and crying isn’t often part of going to sleep for him now. But when it is I am far from the no-nonsense, tough love theory I had going on. Maybe by six months…

“Gosh, I would never sit in the back seat with my child and let my husband sit all alone up front. Pick husband over child, people!” My child hates the car. Like we begin putting him in his car seat and his face contorts, and in general it’s all vein-poppingly downhill from there, unless miraculously he is lulled to sleep (this doesn’t happen often). Yesterday I told Tyler I would pay $100 for something, anything, that would make him like the car. I am that desperate.

And so, when my nerves have found their end, Tyler or I will hop on back and sing and pat the little dude’s head and do anything to keep the peace. Even that doesn’t always work, but it’s worth a try. If you have any $100 ideas, please share. But at this point I’m eating my words from time to time. Ugh. That’s rough.

This parenthood thing is such a guessing game, and I’d never even attempt to tell anyone how to play. I hope I do a few things right in the end.

He Fixed It

I decided to make the most ridiculous cookies for a Spooky Dinner to celebrate my mom’s birthday (she’s a Halloween baby). A simple sugar cookie it seemed with orange, yellow and white becoming a super festive candy corn. Cute, right? Well, yes. But my dough looked nothing like the dough in the picture and it clung to my hands like melted gum. I should not bake after 9 p.m. It’s not good for anyone.

So what did my husband do – even after he had tried to convince me that cute food was not good food, and I wouldn't listen? He patiently took the dough added heaps of flour to the counter top and fixed the situation. All while I stood there ready to cry. He just fixed it. He fixes things.

The candy corn debacle was an end to a frustrating day. You see, I tried to have a photography session with Nixon all by myself. Don’t laugh. Our household is a little too cheap to bring in the professionals every few weeks, but Nixon is nearing four months and oh, so cute, and… long story short, I wanted pictures badly, but it wouldn’t work to buy them.

So I did what any resourceful woman would do – I set up backdrops throughout the house while Nixon was sleeping. I looked for pictures I liked online, I got a cute outfit ready, I found good lighting. I was prepared. All for naught. It was a disaster from the beginning. Nixon didn’t smile or even look at the camera. I am not a professional and the pictures proved it. It was rough. I had such a vision!

Sad little guy. Mean mommy.

He'll always smile for dad.

In came Tyler. We tried again on Sunday with his help. He was so calm and patient and brought out the best smiles in Nixon. We got pictures that will last forever. And I realized one more time why I married him. He fixes things. And he does it without anger or annoyance, even when I’m at my worst. He always has.

Nixon hit and passed up 18 pounds a few weeks ago. He grows and grows and nobody knows where his girth came from. We love the rolls, the smiles and the chatterbox he’s becoming. More on that another day.

Not So Fast

Last night I burned myself on a pan I was using to sauté red potatoes for dinner (love those). I was hurrying and I burned it pretty bad. It throbbed all night long and made it difficult to hold my baby.  It made me think of the last time I was hurrying too fast and hurt myself – the stairs on my way to the 20-week ultrasound. My knees will bear the scars forever as a reminder to slow the heck down.

Today I’ve been thinking about whether I’ve hurried too fast through Nixon’s first three months. It’s a problem for me, but I’m happy to say for once I think I’ve taken the pace just fine. Granted the first month was a bit of a blur, but otherwise I remember the moments.

He’s no longer a newborn. He’s a real baby. He’s done so well, grown so much. He weighs more than 16 lbs. for heaven’s sake! I don’t think he’s changed very much, but then I look back at his pictures or watch his videos and realize he no longer cries like an infant and he doesn’t grunt all day long anymore. (I am so happy for him. Neither of us loved the grunting.) And I’m so glad I’ve experienced life with him.

Right now the typical day for us consists of:

Eating. Every three hours.

Playing. 30-60 minutes afterwards, typically on the floor. Lots of giggles, lots of smiles. He loves it when we blow on his neck or kiss his cheeks. That gets him every time. He also loves squats with Tyler. When he’s having a hard evening, that’s our go-to. I sing a lot and tell stories, which typically get a smile. He talks back some days too. Right now he’s trying hard to roll over – he’s getting a little frustrated. I think he’ll do it any day.

Sleeping. In the morning he sleeps right up until the next feeding. His naptime gets shorter as the day goes on. Sometimes I try to rest too. Other days I clean, prep dinner, write, etc. I always have something going on.

Bedtime. A bath, a blow dry and he’s ready to eat and settle in for the night. Bedtime starts at 9 p.m. and he typically sleeps until 6-7 a.m. Two nights in a row last week he slept until 8 am.

Did I mention we totally love him?!

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The Crown

When I was in high school I wrote a poem called “The Crown” for my creative writing class. It was fairly personal, a poem about feeling like I needed the crown of popularity and realizing it wasn’t necessary or worth what the crown required. It was a good poem I guess. As far as I know the teacher still reads it to his students.   

High school was years ago, and I have long since been at a point where I didn’t need a “crown.” I’ve never been one to need a lot of friends, and I’ve always kept myself so busy that the few incredible friends I had satisfied my need for companionship just fine. Until now.

My baby sleeps. One hour awake, two hours asleep pretty much all day long. I am so proud of him for it and happy that he’s getting the rest he needs. I am not bored, but I am alone. I have picked up reading again, rearranged my wardrobe, found some new recipes, ran some nice routes. But that only gets me until 12 p.m. or so. Then I want to talk. 

When I went to work every day, I had a built-in social network. My co-workers and I had several solid conversations daily about current events, family drama, etc. That element of my life is gone and I miss it more than any other.

I want to start a group where we just get together and talk, once from 9-10 a.m. and maybe again at 3:30 p.m. or so. We’ll all read the news often, so we all know what’s going on and bring good things to the conversation. I know, this group is not possible in a mom and naptime sort of world. But I want it. I crave it.

At any rate, I’m realizing that I need to make friends.But for the life of me I can’t remember how. It’s like my first day of high school all over again. Who knew I was living on repeat.  Here we go again.