Love (?) letter

Yes, yes, I know I've done this before, but it's the only thing I keep thinking about. Besides, this blog seems to have been missing something (content?), so here we go.

If present me had written past me a letter a week ago, it might have looked like this.

Dear Boo:

Rest up. You're going to need it. I know that your darling daughter has finally resumed her normal (read: LENGTHY) sleeping patterns after the seventh circle of teething hell, but it's all about to change. Again.

While you are basking in the post-Thanksgiving joy at your parents' house, don't feel bad for not leaping out of bed at the little one's first squawk around 7:30. Don't feel guilty about sleeping in until -- GASP -- 8:30 on the weekends. Cherish her silence and ability to soothe herself.

You will start noticing her cold symptoms around the same time you plan on going back to Boise. In the middle of the week, as you frantically line up babysitters, align crazy work schedules, try getting your car out of the shop and pray for good roads in the midst of Blizzard Fest 2010, the wee one will have a runny nose.

"Sure," you will think, "A runny nose is nothing to worry about. I plan to head home to reunite with the hubby tomorrow, anyway." But no! You won't! Another blizzard will come to Boise! This is when you will be thankful for your tendency to overpack. Instead of braving the roads home, you will cry all the way out to your gracious sister-in-law's house the next morning before an unexpected day of work in the eastern side of the state. You will spend the rest of the day offering prayers of gratitude that you and baby are still alive.

Another day after that, your car will have a shiny new transmission and the roads will seem safe enough to travel.

Don't fall into a false sense of security when you arrive home. The baby may seem healthy. You might have a productive morning. You might even think you will be able to make sense of the huge mess that is your apartment. You may even have the hubris to assume that decorating is in the realm of possibility.

Then the baby will wake at night, and she will cry. No, no. She will scream. For hours she will scream. And you will be helpless to fix it. She won't have the classic signs of an ear infection. She won't have a fever. She won't tug on her ears. But something inside you will just know.

Don't be afraid to take her to the doctor on a Saturday. Don't listen to the snotty nurse who makes comments like, "Oh really? Not tugging on her ears? Hmm..." or "Wow, she doesn't feel warm AT ALL." When the doctor takes one look and says, "Oh, that's bad. That's definitely infected." And then finds infection in the other ear, you will try not to internally gloat to said nurse over your poor little one's ill health.

You really should take the time to rest and nurse your own cold. You should watch the Little Mermaid with the baby. You shouldn't be afraid to "spoil" the child by letting her sleep in your bed.

I hate to tell you this, but you will be exhausted. And you will have plenty of moments where you will feel like a deficient wife and mother. You won't get your Christmas gifts up. Both girls for whom you were making those great baby shower gifts will give birth this week, and you will feel like a failure for not having finished those projects. You will feel overwhelmed by a million other To-Dos that are pushed aside. You will spend much time acknowledging that you are a flat-out terrible single parent.

But you will learn that you can sing a furious baby to sleep. You will learn that you can survive on very little sleep. You will actually make it to the grocery store. You will retain the gratitude you felt during the Thanksgiving holiday through it all. You will travel safely on very treacherous roads. You will find, once again, that you and Jesse are a dynamic duo. And most importantly, my friend, you will survive. And I think (I can't tell you for sure just yet), you will be even stronger for it all.

But for now, you will just want to rest up. Best of luck,

Boo

In case we don't return...

Remember us at our best.

And pray for us as we brave treacherous roads... Oh, and happy holidays, too.

Sweet way to start the day

Maybe you're like me, and you woke up to a baby who mysteriously ended up in bed with you. You'll later learn that you brought her to bed around 1 a.m. because you didn't have the presence of mind to get her to go back to sleep in her own bed. Anyway, you wake up because she's pulling your hair, clawing your face and kicking you in the back. So you bring her out into the living room and decide to set her down with some toys so you can use the restroom. You think you're safe.

You forget your husband left half of a Twix bar on top of the end table in the living room.

You come back out to see her relishing every moment with this candy bar. You remember all the work you and your husband have put into keeping foods like this out of the baby's mouth. But then you see the look of pure joy on her face. And you laugh.

And though she pretends to feel guilty for the camera, you know that your little family's battle between sugar and sanity has begun.

And I'm back in the game...

WE HAVE INTERNET!!! Can you hear the angels singing? Can you hear the children rejoicing? Oh so much has happened, and I have had virtually no means of communicating.

But to tide you over, here's this little nugget. Our little McNugget in her Halloween costume.

(But now I'm wishing I'd dressed her up as a McNugget. How cute would that be?)

Maturation, or something like it

So, I like to think we've been doing some growing up lately. And not just Penelope, though she has hit some milestones. What's that? You're DYING to hear all about them? OK, well, if you're going to force me.

She has started enunciating her baby language. She forms actual syllables, and we can now officially claim to have heard her say "dada" and "mama," though she certainly didn't say them in any particular context. (Except for mama. Obviously she says that with more love than you could fathom.) She has figured out how to feed herself the little baby snacks. And she's only choked on one -- and I didn't completely pee my pants when it happened. She seems to process when we're frustrated or upset with her, and it makes me rethink my knee-jerk response to a lot of things.

She got her first balloon. Had we let her, I'm pretty sure she would have taken it to bed with her and lovingly stroked it all night à la Gollum and The Precious.

She also got her first glamour shot taken. It makes me want to die. In a great way.

It just seems like every day she gets exponentially older, more intelligent, more curious, more talented, more entertaining, and I just want to eat every moment up.

But, as I mentioned, this post isn't about her. It's mostly about me. Me trying to start some family traditions. Like family photos, even when I feel chubby chubby chubby. I know I will want to look back and see what our little family was like, and how genuinely happy we were even though we had little more than each other. Probably because we had little more than each other.

We're trying to make grown up decisions, like waiting to buy a house until it's the right time for us. Even though we want one so badly, and the market is right, and technically we probably could pull it off -- though it would cause so much stress financially -- yadda, yadda, yadda. We decided to follow the counsel that sometimes saying I love you is saying "we can't afford it."

I'm letting go. I've decided to stop blaming my frustration and shortcomings on others for things that happened aeons ago. I'm forgiving. I'm focusing inward. I don't like everything I see there, but it's getting better.

And you know what I'm learning in all of this growing up I'm trying to do? Sometimes growing up really sucks.

But I know I'm a better person for it. I know my marriage is stronger for it. And I know I'll be a better mother for it. And right now, that's better than anything. Even a house (she said reassuringly to herself). Yes, even a house.

Defiance: A genetic defect?

I still remember the day I first felt truly defiant. (Well, the first day I can remember, of course.) I must have been, oh, six, and I had watched entirely too many dramatic stories on television of young runaways. After my mother delivered what I perceived to be a vicious injustice, I stormed off to my room, packed a few necessary belongings into my baby blanket, searched the room for a toy broom to tie the package onto all hobo-style, and marched back to the front door. I looked up at the kitchen only to see my mom busily doing the dishes.

Who did she think she was? A mother of five? (Or maybe it was six by then, the timeframe really is blurry.) Giving it an Oscar-worthy, "goodbye-cruel-world" performance, I painfully sighed, "I'll see you in twenty years."

She turned off the sink and looked at me. Immediately I understood this to mean that she felt all the pain that would exist in her life without me. I felt her begging me to stay and remain the vital part of our family that I was. I felt her apologizing. Then she spoke.

"Did you say something?"

"Yes mom," I thought, "your apology is acceptable. Thank you for understanding your error. I would like to spend the night in my warm bed now."

But all I sighed was, "no."

I don't know why this story has been running through my head lately. Perhaps it's because Penelope had her first truly defiant moment the other night: refusing to swallow her food.

Like mother, like daughter.

Note: Please ignore the obviously bad parenting and filming in this video. Also, did you notice how Jesse is all worried she might be sick, and I immediately just wanted it on film? Man, he really is a better parent than I am.

The best part of waking up

In case you don't know yet, naps are heaven sent. Of course I enjoy my hours of alone time (aka the only time I have to clean up before the next wave of crazy starts), but what's even better is that the baby always wakes up a different -- generally happier -- beast than she was when I put her down.

If you are in our house, you will most likely find her like this after a nap. I guarantee that you cannot stay frustrated when you walk in to the little face.

And while I would love to tell you that Penelope always wakes up all smiles and sunshine, that really isn't true. Sometimes she wakes up like this. Congested, runny nose, exhausted, miserable.

That's what happened in our house this week. But we spent the whole day like two little slugs, watching Gilmore Girls (the ultimate sick day TV programming. Penelope would back me up on this one), manually removing snot from a baby's nose, and comforting said child from the agony of her first head cold.

Sometimes, however, you put your child down for a nap just to get a break from her cranky, teething attitude. And after deciding you are slightly less exasperated, you might peek in to see her peeking right back at you.

And then you immediately take a photo to document her beautiful, raw silliness.

No matter what, it truly is the beginning to a new day (or afternoon, or two hours until the next nap).

NOW FOR SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT

husband: What is that?

me: It's the Halloween costume I got for Penelope.

husband: Yeah, but what IS it?

me: It's a peacock.

husband: That's NOT a peacock.

me: Why not?

husband: When have you ever seen a peacock with a human face peeking out of its neck? It's terrifying!!!

Conclusion: Our difference of opinion wasn't resolved. However, we did agree on a new costume for the baby. Pictured peacock costume has been returned to the store. (But I still claim it is awesome.)