I was clicking around and I landed on the blog of a New York mother who writes that she’ll wash her breasts, nightly, and nurse her toddler to sleep.  Then later, she will be awoken, nightly, to change a wet diaper at midnight.  This is her routine, this self-proclaimed Attachment Parent.

When I read things like this, I think, “I need to stop reading blogs.”

The only reason I wash my breasts is because I’m taking a shower.  And this does not quite happen every day, friends.  Not that you’re surprised.  Spending 10 minutes under the hot, comforting water, letting my mind wander, I do this for me.  As if personal hygiene could be anything but personal.  It’s like when my (childless) girlfriend K and I meet for breakfast and she always looks polished and put together, wearing lipgloss and expensive shoes.  She shrugs and informs me, “I get dressed for me.”  And I know, in a way, she is on to something.

The decisions we make for ourselves and our families are very personal.  Perhaps I’m threatened by the idea of extending yourself so far as to share your bed – and so much more – with your baby after he or she has turned one year old.  I have read about AP and, after plaguing me with guilt, their website forces me to shrug my shoulders and say, “That’s not my way.”

Besides, my son tries to put his shoes in his mouth.  Often.  How could a person’s breasts be dirty by comparison?  I mean, really.

…at the bottom of a bag of bagel chips.

So, this means I wasn’t crazy to look inside the diaper pail a few weeks back.  Little J had indeed put them somewhere for safekeeping.

Leo the Lion

Boo.

 This Halloween was a hit!  Little J really enjoyed wearing his costume, despite the 80-degree weather during the daytime.  We attended “Boo at the LA Zoo”.  Great times had all around.

1. Matzoball soup + Nyquil + 9 hours sleep = magical cure for a cold (for me, not the baby!)

2. I seem to have lost my house keys. This is only mildly upsetting for some reason. I managed to scavenge an extra key to the side door, and am going in and out of it for now.

3. Little J has cut his first molar!! It is just so cute, I can’t get over it. This explains the massive drool springing from his mouth and leaving his collars damp.

4. Cookie Magazine has folded. I am not sad, per se. I only wonder what the folks at Conde Naste are going to send me instead, for the remainder of my subscription year.

5. This pancake batter bowl from Ikea serves well as a place to throw small toys that I find scattered about my living room floor every day. It’s always a mess around here, and for the time being, Little Guy thinks the bowl is his new toy.

I have a nasty cold in the nose, which I caught from my kid, and I’m hating it. Gross.
Every time he sticks his finger up my nose and giggles, every time he gives me a wet, open-mouthed kiss, I smile, and I also curse the fates. What did I expect? Of course I was going to catch his sniffles. Ugh, we may not go outside today. I’m feeling ick.

This past Wednesday I went to my friend’s wedding in New York. She got married in Central Park, and I was matron of honor. It was an adventure and fun was had by all. I got run around, jump on and off subways, get a massage, eat pizza. All of this, alone, with no husband or baby nearby. It was exhilarating. The only reason I did not have a heart attack at the separation was that my mother offered to watch Little J for 5 days, at my house. A better scenario could not have been created. My mom is a pro. I love her so much.

My friend had her “first glance” moment in a garden in Central Park, and, since it was Wednesday afternoon, some school kids found themselves witnessing it. Front row seats.

It was so adorable, I had to capture that moment.
And in that sweet moment, I looked at those little New Yorkers, and thought I LOVE KIDS!!! All kids. I love ‘em. I love my own child most of all. I finally count myself amongst the many people who claim I was not a whole person until I had a child.

Maybe this seems elementary and odd, but it was a nice realization for me. I think I was slower-than-average on the acceptance of parenthood. I have been embracing it gradually. I didn’t weep and feel connected to Little J the moment he was born. Oh, no. I didn’t really believe he was mine. I think this happens to some mothers, and fathers too. It took a little courage, but my heart has gotten so BIG in the last 14 months. And now, I’m really really proud of this. I’m wearing my moms’ club badge today. It’s big and shiny and it says “I love kids”.

Yellow Balloon Hair Salon in Studio City offers a “1st haircut” Package which includes a balloon, poloroid and certificate.

Notice the ghetto stylist in the background picking her teeth.

My sweet, sweet boy. He loved his balloon. Now it is his newest word, “Booon”.
Yesterday a neighborly woman walking her sweet, sweet doggies commented on his handsome new look. It’s really nice to see him looking less girlish, and more clean cut. I probably won’t return to the same salon, though. Not really necessary, if you asked me. There’s candy and toys everywhere, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Yeah, okay, I said it.

I have a 13-month old. Sometimes when the tantrums get really really bad, I turn to wordsearches online. Who doesn’t, right? Here’s what babycenter.com says about “tantrums”:

One of the best approaches to tantrums is to avoid them as much as possible. Pay attention to your baby’s cues and try to anticipate her desires. You can reduce her frustration even more by giving her a safe place to explore where you won’t constantly have to tell her no.

Well isn’t that just worth a coffeecup full of snot? Seriously, friends, I write this because I know I am “ahead” of some of you. You’re out there reading about what’s to come with your own precious babies. Right now you might be thinking, well when my kid cries, I do this or that. The situations change, over and over. He hits a new “stage” or “milestone”. Isn’t it adorable? And just when you think you’ve got all your bases covered, there’s a wrench thrown in the gears. You can do like me and cry to your husband. Whaaaa. That will only go so far. In the end, you have to say ’screw-you’ to the internet, and let them cry until they are done. Do not, by any means, hit them with a soccerball or give them a shot of Jack Daniels. It’s so weird that babycenter doesn’t mention this, so I thought I should.

I know, when I am on the playground, or chatting with you on the phone, I’ll say how wonderful my son is. He is just the best, and I don’t know how I ever lived without him. But IN ADDITION to this, clever ladies, there is the secret world of “OhmygodpleasefortheloveofgodSTOP” which is very real, and very common.

Because you deserve a bit of the truth. And your baby will still love you when he wakes up from crying it out. Mine can’t get enough of me. This I promise you.

Just got home from hosting a bachelorette party in San Francisco. This’ll be a quickie post. Lots to do. Unpack, get back in the swing of things, read, write, tend to the toddler.

It was a fun day and night. There were four of us drinking wine, kvetching and laughing. All of us were in committed relationships, but I was the only one who had gone through the peril of giving birth. They were mildly curious, and overall very kind listeners. Is your vagina irrevocably changed? Do we really want to know?

The funniest question I got was, “Did you poop on the delivery table?”
I responded, “Apparently, Yes. I’m told everyone does.”
She replies, “Oh yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Right now my husb is making Sunday morning breakfast. Bacon, toast, eggs. Earlier, at the dawn of day, I downed 2 cups of coffee and fell back into bed, dejected. Someone finally got the kid to take his morning nap, and it wasn’t me. Hubby drained the last dregs of the coffee pot into his tiny cup before I could get to it (I’m so selfish here.) Every day I seem to make far too much, or far too little. Java, the blessed beverage that reminds me that I’m a grown-up, and I’ll drink what I like.

I have to praise him, my other half. Not just because he occasionally reads this blog. I have to say that I have a great guy because he knows how I operate. He loves me anyway. Today, he stood by the stove, pushing bacon strips around on the pan, while I reenacted a moment with our son, where Little J laid his head on my shoulder lovingly, grinned at me, and smacked me swiftly in the eye with his sticky hand, all inside 10 seconds. My husband just sighed and said, ‘Please don’t hit me, I get it.’ Then he told me that everything was going to be alright. He hugged and kissed me. Then he made a joke about a similar morning when I had been up with the child since 5:30am — where I said something horrible and uncanny like, “FIVE-THIRTY, F&p;(*(KERS!”

I read a post by IzzyMom in which she admitted to wanting to leave everyone to fend for themselves, to run away and never come back. I think we all get to that point. Even my own mother probably did. Motherhood is challenging. But I welcome the hurdles, once I get a chance to cool off. I embrace any challenge when I take a bite of delicious bacon, peanut butter on toast. And eggs. Over medium. That’s how I like them done. I figured this out about 12 years ago, around the same time I met my husband. Since then, he’s always known how I like my eggs cooked. He doesn’t have to ask. It’s reasons like this that make me appreciate being married. Sometimes the dreaded office job or the day-in day-out of being a homemaker incite you to yelling, slamming doors, or almost throwing objects across the room. Sometimes, when you’re one year old, you hit your mother in the face.

But, your family will love you anyway.

PS~ Through my window, I just heard the neighbor woman scream, and her toddler start to cry. Then I heard the consoling voice of his father. I’m guessing he fell off of something, onto the pavement. No one seems to escape the challenges, do they? Nope.

I just wanted to post this photo because it makes me melt!

(Taken April 22, 2009)
This is the “Photo Booth” function of the Mac computer, and my Little Guy is looking at himself on my laptop screen! Precious-ness!!!!
I think a big reason I haven’t blogged in over a week is that I’ve been diving into my archive of digital photos of Little J. There are so many and I want to admire them all. Now 13 months old, he truly is my little boy, and not quite a baby any more. How much he has changed!