It's hard to know when you're registering for baby things what you're really going to use and what you're not. I was always kind of "ehhh" on the baby activity gyms (didn't really see the point) but we registered for one anyway.
I wasn't totally shocked when we didn't get it.
But my Aunt Kathy & Uncle Dave sent us money for "something Jackson would want" a couple of weeks ago, and I started to reconsider this toy. Now that Jackson is more alert, I'm looking for ways to stimulate him. And these little mats are also supposed to help babies enjoy their "tummy time," which my child has always hated.
The activity gym came a week ago today, and it's one of our favorite gifts right now. We use it probably three times a day. It's got lights. Music. Little animals that swing overhead for him to grab. And a mirror.
(I will interject, here, by saying that Lucy is not sure what to think of this contraption.)
My favorite new milestone of Jackson's - aside from spending minutes on end staring at his hands (gasp! what are these things stuck to my body?) - is when he finds himself in a mirror. He grins and stares at me all day long but when he sees himself, well, we both crack up.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
10 lessons in 10 weeks
In honor of making it to the 10-week mark fairly unscathed, I've given some thought to the ten things I've learned (or was glad I had heard) during this whole experience. Here's what I know now that I didn't know before - or that I knew but kept reminding myself for the last two months.
#10: Trust your gut. I was worried that Jackson wasn't eating enough. Every new parent apparently thinks they're starving their child and I was not going to be one of those spastic new moms who called the pediatrician convinced of this. But at Jackson's two-month appointment we found out that there is an exception to every rule: my "lazy eater" wasn't gaining enough weight and had, in fact, spent the greater part of his scant eight weeks of life hungry. (Ouch. The idea that you haven't been feeding your child enough has "Mommy Guilt" written all over it.) Someday while my son is scarfing down his third helping of dinner I will remind him of the fact that he was once considered a "lazy" eater. Chad and I just aren't sure which side of the family that came from. Point being, in the back of my mind I knew this about week #4. I just talked myself out of it because I didn't want to come across as a spaz.
#9: If at first you don't succeed, try again. Some other day. At the six-week mark, I was determined to move Jackson from a Pack 'n Play into his crib. Six weeks seemed like the appropriate milestone for this to occur, so we made the move. And at the six-weeks-and-three-day mark, I abandoned my valiant mission. After several nights of getting up every hour to soothe a crying infant, we pulled the Pack 'n Play out of its carrier and put Jackson back in his little vibrating napper he loved so much. I needed sleep and I preferred to stay sane. "I am not giving up," I told Chad. "I am just accepting the fact that he is not ready for this." We'd try the crib in a few weeks, we decided. And, guess what? Two nights ago I put him into the crib and he sleeps like a dream child. Life is good.
#8: Kids make noise when they sleep. Why did no one ever tell me that I need to listen before rushing into my child's room? After about nine weeks I realized that Jackson grunts, farts, snorts and even cries in his sleep. Rushing in to put in the pacifier or feed him resulted in me legitimately waking a sleeping baby more times than I care to admit. Now I know a "just readjusting myself, Mom" whimper from a "Hello, I'm hungry, Lady!" wail when I hear it.
#7: Dr. Harvey Karp is a frickin' genius. If you ever invite me to a baby shower, let me spoil your gift: I will bring you a copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block and a swaddle. Even when I was apparently starving our child (see Point #10) I could calm down his cries in a matter of seconds with the "five S's". This man is a dream worker. As of late we've been loving the Miracle Blanket because it is the one swaddle that our little Houdini cannot escape from in the middle of the night. And he can't scratch himself, either, which he does if he's not wrapped up tight.
#6: Talk to your mommy friends. They will understand. I have been so lucky to have this charter group of women who have gone before me that really "get" this whole parenthood gig. They check in. They send reassuring emails and how-are-you-doing text messages. They comment on my blog posts. They call in the middle of the afternoon for no reason and we talk about things like bowel movements and the appropriate length of naps. (Yes, I have become one of those people who keeps track of both.) In my non-mom days I wanted to support my mom friends - and I did to the extent I could - but I've realized that I just didn't "get" it. If you're having a kid, find your network of people who have already sailed these waters and put them on speed dial. Immediately.
#5: This, too, shall pass. During the screaming fits, and there have been a few, I constantly reminded myself that neither of us would permanently be worse for the wear in six months or six years. These are the times of long days and short years, one of my friends wisely told me. And it's funny that, looking back even on the last few months, I really remember the best moments and have blocked out the worst parts. Perhaps that's the sleep deprivation talking, who knows.
#4: Don't fool yourself. You will not be able to sleep when the baby sleeps. A well-meaning friend said to me around Week Two of this adventure, "So, what are you going to do with all your free time?" I smiled, but I was gritting my teeth. Yes, it goes to figure that if a newborn sleeps 14-18 hours a day that you should be able to be pretty darned productive. Well, in the last ten weeks, I have taken exactly one nap. During Jackson's spotty nap times I am lucky to shower or eat lunch or put in a load of laundry or take out the trash or feed the dog or... I think you get the gist. In fact, when I'm putting Jackson down for his naps I am mentally prioritizing my to-dos. Should I make myself coffee first or write those three thank-you notes? Dare I make some oatmeal or should I wash those bottles? When you're living on borrowed time, it's amazing how productive you are. But, unfortunately, sleeping isn't usually part of that equation.
#3: Get out of the house. RIGHT. NOW. I sign up for these weekly baby emails about what your child should be doing developmentally, what you should be watching for, etc. At Week Eight, my email said something like, "Now is the time you should be thinking about and mentally preparing yourself to leave your child with someone else." Yikes, I thought. I must be the world's worst parent. We left Jackson and headed for the hills at about Day #3. Getting out of the house is essential. Chad and I have been to dinner by ourselves more often than I can count. And I've got a rule that if the temperature is above 40 degrees, I bundle Jackson up and take Lucy for a walk. Accept the fact that, if you're lucky, there are people on this Earth who love your child *almost* as much as you do. And those people have probably had far more sleep and are much more refreshed than you are. They make amazing babysitters. Get out of your house without your child. For everyone's sake!
#2: Having a baby is a productivity killer. This was actually the phrase that Chad uttered to me last Sunday after we had both been up for six hours with a fussy child and found ourselves still in our pajamas. Mentally prepare yourself for the fact that you will not be able to get anything done for the first 12 weeks and if you do, it's a bonus. This is not the time to be planning or doing anything of substance. Like knee surgery. But that is another blog post. And, yes, my Aunt Rita cautioned against this.
#1: If anyone offers to help, teach yourself these six little words: "That would be awesome. Thank you." Now is not the time to be Superwoman. You can't do it all, trust me. (And even with help, your kitchen will look like a disaster.) In Jackson's first weeks, Janice did my laundry. My mom made dinner more than once. Rachel sent me a "Pick a night this week when I can come babysit" text. April and Sarah and Sara and Erika and Margaret and Cathy and oh I'm sure I'm forgetting lots of people took care of us so we could take care of our child. Those are the best friends to have. And you need to be willing to accept everything they're willing to offer.
#10: Trust your gut. I was worried that Jackson wasn't eating enough. Every new parent apparently thinks they're starving their child and I was not going to be one of those spastic new moms who called the pediatrician convinced of this. But at Jackson's two-month appointment we found out that there is an exception to every rule: my "lazy eater" wasn't gaining enough weight and had, in fact, spent the greater part of his scant eight weeks of life hungry. (Ouch. The idea that you haven't been feeding your child enough has "Mommy Guilt" written all over it.) Someday while my son is scarfing down his third helping of dinner I will remind him of the fact that he was once considered a "lazy" eater. Chad and I just aren't sure which side of the family that came from. Point being, in the back of my mind I knew this about week #4. I just talked myself out of it because I didn't want to come across as a spaz.
#9: If at first you don't succeed, try again. Some other day. At the six-week mark, I was determined to move Jackson from a Pack 'n Play into his crib. Six weeks seemed like the appropriate milestone for this to occur, so we made the move. And at the six-weeks-and-three-day mark, I abandoned my valiant mission. After several nights of getting up every hour to soothe a crying infant, we pulled the Pack 'n Play out of its carrier and put Jackson back in his little vibrating napper he loved so much. I needed sleep and I preferred to stay sane. "I am not giving up," I told Chad. "I am just accepting the fact that he is not ready for this." We'd try the crib in a few weeks, we decided. And, guess what? Two nights ago I put him into the crib and he sleeps like a dream child. Life is good.
#8: Kids make noise when they sleep. Why did no one ever tell me that I need to listen before rushing into my child's room? After about nine weeks I realized that Jackson grunts, farts, snorts and even cries in his sleep. Rushing in to put in the pacifier or feed him resulted in me legitimately waking a sleeping baby more times than I care to admit. Now I know a "just readjusting myself, Mom" whimper from a "Hello, I'm hungry, Lady!" wail when I hear it.
#7: Dr. Harvey Karp is a frickin' genius. If you ever invite me to a baby shower, let me spoil your gift: I will bring you a copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block and a swaddle. Even when I was apparently starving our child (see Point #10) I could calm down his cries in a matter of seconds with the "five S's". This man is a dream worker. As of late we've been loving the Miracle Blanket because it is the one swaddle that our little Houdini cannot escape from in the middle of the night. And he can't scratch himself, either, which he does if he's not wrapped up tight.
#6: Talk to your mommy friends. They will understand. I have been so lucky to have this charter group of women who have gone before me that really "get" this whole parenthood gig. They check in. They send reassuring emails and how-are-you-doing text messages. They comment on my blog posts. They call in the middle of the afternoon for no reason and we talk about things like bowel movements and the appropriate length of naps. (Yes, I have become one of those people who keeps track of both.) In my non-mom days I wanted to support my mom friends - and I did to the extent I could - but I've realized that I just didn't "get" it. If you're having a kid, find your network of people who have already sailed these waters and put them on speed dial. Immediately.
#5: This, too, shall pass. During the screaming fits, and there have been a few, I constantly reminded myself that neither of us would permanently be worse for the wear in six months or six years. These are the times of long days and short years, one of my friends wisely told me. And it's funny that, looking back even on the last few months, I really remember the best moments and have blocked out the worst parts. Perhaps that's the sleep deprivation talking, who knows.
#4: Don't fool yourself. You will not be able to sleep when the baby sleeps. A well-meaning friend said to me around Week Two of this adventure, "So, what are you going to do with all your free time?" I smiled, but I was gritting my teeth. Yes, it goes to figure that if a newborn sleeps 14-18 hours a day that you should be able to be pretty darned productive. Well, in the last ten weeks, I have taken exactly one nap. During Jackson's spotty nap times I am lucky to shower or eat lunch or put in a load of laundry or take out the trash or feed the dog or... I think you get the gist. In fact, when I'm putting Jackson down for his naps I am mentally prioritizing my to-dos. Should I make myself coffee first or write those three thank-you notes? Dare I make some oatmeal or should I wash those bottles? When you're living on borrowed time, it's amazing how productive you are. But, unfortunately, sleeping isn't usually part of that equation.
#3: Get out of the house. RIGHT. NOW. I sign up for these weekly baby emails about what your child should be doing developmentally, what you should be watching for, etc. At Week Eight, my email said something like, "Now is the time you should be thinking about and mentally preparing yourself to leave your child with someone else." Yikes, I thought. I must be the world's worst parent. We left Jackson and headed for the hills at about Day #3. Getting out of the house is essential. Chad and I have been to dinner by ourselves more often than I can count. And I've got a rule that if the temperature is above 40 degrees, I bundle Jackson up and take Lucy for a walk. Accept the fact that, if you're lucky, there are people on this Earth who love your child *almost* as much as you do. And those people have probably had far more sleep and are much more refreshed than you are. They make amazing babysitters. Get out of your house without your child. For everyone's sake!
#2: Having a baby is a productivity killer. This was actually the phrase that Chad uttered to me last Sunday after we had both been up for six hours with a fussy child and found ourselves still in our pajamas. Mentally prepare yourself for the fact that you will not be able to get anything done for the first 12 weeks and if you do, it's a bonus. This is not the time to be planning or doing anything of substance. Like knee surgery. But that is another blog post. And, yes, my Aunt Rita cautioned against this.
#1: If anyone offers to help, teach yourself these six little words: "That would be awesome. Thank you." Now is not the time to be Superwoman. You can't do it all, trust me. (And even with help, your kitchen will look like a disaster.) In Jackson's first weeks, Janice did my laundry. My mom made dinner more than once. Rachel sent me a "Pick a night this week when I can come babysit" text. April and Sarah and Sara and Erika and Margaret and Cathy and oh I'm sure I'm forgetting lots of people took care of us so we could take care of our child. Those are the best friends to have. And you need to be willing to accept everything they're willing to offer.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Daycare drama
I am over halfway through my maternity leave. Some days, I can't think of anything more amazing than staying home with Jackson and some days the idea of getting ready and going into an office sounds like a day at the spa.
But either way, the plan is to head back to work the first week of April. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but what's really got me stressed at the moment is not knowing where, exactly, we're going to take Jackson while we go to work. It is entirely too difficult to find a place to take your child around here. All the "good" places have huge waiting lists, and many of the best in-home daycares also have no openings. They basically make you pay a registration fee (typically in the hundreds of dollars) and then a "renewal" fee every year while you sit on the lists. I am in the wrong line of work, I tell you. I should open up a daycare enterprise.
We've been on two lists pretty much since we found out I was pregnant. There's a good daycare at the Senate - which, last I checked, we were #104 - and another in Old Town that gets rave reviews from some of my mom friends. That one looks more promising but when you've got 10 infant spots and over a hundred people on a waiting list, nothing is ever a done deal.
There is a good chance that neither of those will work out by April 4, so I'm currently stressing out about Option C: an as-yet-undetermined location for our not-very-old little boy. I refuse to take him just anywhere after hearing horror stories of babies left all day crying in their car seats. (I want to cry just thinking about it.) We've got lists of questions we're supposed to ask potential child care providers - everything from what's their emergency safety plan to is everyone a legal citizen and who is their back-up - and are trying to find someone who will love our child that has an opening for an infant the first week of April or before. I asked fewer questions when I was trying to decide which college to attend. And this all seems like an incredibly overwhelming and frustrating task.
This is another one of those moments when I wish Jackson's grandmas lived closer!
But either way, the plan is to head back to work the first week of April. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but what's really got me stressed at the moment is not knowing where, exactly, we're going to take Jackson while we go to work. It is entirely too difficult to find a place to take your child around here. All the "good" places have huge waiting lists, and many of the best in-home daycares also have no openings. They basically make you pay a registration fee (typically in the hundreds of dollars) and then a "renewal" fee every year while you sit on the lists. I am in the wrong line of work, I tell you. I should open up a daycare enterprise.
We've been on two lists pretty much since we found out I was pregnant. There's a good daycare at the Senate - which, last I checked, we were #104 - and another in Old Town that gets rave reviews from some of my mom friends. That one looks more promising but when you've got 10 infant spots and over a hundred people on a waiting list, nothing is ever a done deal.
There is a good chance that neither of those will work out by April 4, so I'm currently stressing out about Option C: an as-yet-undetermined location for our not-very-old little boy. I refuse to take him just anywhere after hearing horror stories of babies left all day crying in their car seats. (I want to cry just thinking about it.) We've got lists of questions we're supposed to ask potential child care providers - everything from what's their emergency safety plan to is everyone a legal citizen and who is their back-up - and are trying to find someone who will love our child that has an opening for an infant the first week of April or before. I asked fewer questions when I was trying to decide which college to attend. And this all seems like an incredibly overwhelming and frustrating task.
This is another one of those moments when I wish Jackson's grandmas lived closer!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Our new normal
After Janice spontaneously took pity on me and literally forced us out to dinner, Chad and I found ourselves at one of our favorite restaurants last night with time to kill. There was a long list of people in front of us, so we cozied up to the bar with a glass of wine to wait it out.
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Today, I cried
Jackson is two months old today. And that means a doctor's appointment. And that means shots.
I knew he was going to get shots. Shoot, at our two-week appointment the pediatrician went on and on about the importance of vaccinations. I'm sure she spent 15 minutes selling us something that was already sold. (Quite an inefficient use of her time, really.) So I've known this day was coming for awhile. Of course he was going to get immunized. "Just tell yourself that the pain of the shots will be far less than the pain he'd feel if he contracted any of these diseases," I kept repeating.
I'd be fine. He'd be fine. After all, for goodness sake, they're only shots.
So we had the whole doctor's appointment. Jackson's gained some weight and grew another inch. He's doing all the developmental things right on target. He's, apparently, "a clinger," which is what the pediatrician called a baby that likes to be held so much that they hate riding in car seats or being put down for naps. (There's nothing we did to cause this, she said. And you know I asked!)
Then it was time for the shots. The nurse, a very pleasant African-American woman, came in with three long needles. I made a joke about how she must have drawn the short straw to be the one who gets stuck with this task.
"Honey," she said, in a light Southern drawl. "I do more of these in a day than I can even count."
Which I took to mean that she really knew what she was doing. (And/or somewhere down the line, she really pissed somebody off to get such a thankless job.)
I had read that babies whose mothers held onto them during shots were in less pain (whoever managed to figure this out I don't know but I believed it), so I took a deep breath and I stood there as my happy little naked-except-for-his-diaper son went from bright-eyed and smiling to bright red and gasping for air.
The nurse was very efficient with the first two shots and waited for Jackson to take a deep breath before pulling the cap off of the third. "This one's a stinger," she said. "I'm sorry."
She pinched his leg and stuck in the needle, and that's when I lost it. I looked at his little beet red face and his pleading eyes which burned right through my soul and the tears started rolling down my face.
Oh My Lord, I realized, I've become one of those mothers. I was 100% shocked with myself.
After the shots, I scooped him up and he stopped crying in about five seconds. I'm convinced I was more traumatized by the experience than he was. As she put on his Band-Aids and cleaned up the needles, making her way out the door, the nurse kept apologizing. I felt like an idiot.
Chad might have to go to the four-month appointment with Jackson all by himself.
I knew he was going to get shots. Shoot, at our two-week appointment the pediatrician went on and on about the importance of vaccinations. I'm sure she spent 15 minutes selling us something that was already sold. (Quite an inefficient use of her time, really.) So I've known this day was coming for awhile. Of course he was going to get immunized. "Just tell yourself that the pain of the shots will be far less than the pain he'd feel if he contracted any of these diseases," I kept repeating.
I'd be fine. He'd be fine. After all, for goodness sake, they're only shots.
So we had the whole doctor's appointment. Jackson's gained some weight and grew another inch. He's doing all the developmental things right on target. He's, apparently, "a clinger," which is what the pediatrician called a baby that likes to be held so much that they hate riding in car seats or being put down for naps. (There's nothing we did to cause this, she said. And you know I asked!)
Then it was time for the shots. The nurse, a very pleasant African-American woman, came in with three long needles. I made a joke about how she must have drawn the short straw to be the one who gets stuck with this task.
"Honey," she said, in a light Southern drawl. "I do more of these in a day than I can even count."
Which I took to mean that she really knew what she was doing. (And/or somewhere down the line, she really pissed somebody off to get such a thankless job.)
I had read that babies whose mothers held onto them during shots were in less pain (whoever managed to figure this out I don't know but I believed it), so I took a deep breath and I stood there as my happy little naked-except-for-his-diaper son went from bright-eyed and smiling to bright red and gasping for air.
The nurse was very efficient with the first two shots and waited for Jackson to take a deep breath before pulling the cap off of the third. "This one's a stinger," she said. "I'm sorry."
She pinched his leg and stuck in the needle, and that's when I lost it. I looked at his little beet red face and his pleading eyes which burned right through my soul and the tears started rolling down my face.
Oh My Lord, I realized, I've become one of those mothers. I was 100% shocked with myself.
After the shots, I scooped him up and he stopped crying in about five seconds. I'm convinced I was more traumatized by the experience than he was. As she put on his Band-Aids and cleaned up the needles, making her way out the door, the nurse kept apologizing. I felt like an idiot.
Chad might have to go to the four-month appointment with Jackson all by himself.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
All by myself
I'm not a TV watcher. I don't turn on the TV "just because." But one of the benefits of being home is that I can watch TV if I want - it doesn't get backlogged in the TiVo like it used to. So last week - or the week before (of course I don't remember) - I found myself in the basement at 4:00 with a hungry baby. And 4:00 means Oprah.
The episode was on military families and really brought the heavyweights: Tom Brokaw, Ben Bradlee and Michelle Obama. Each highlighted a different military family that inspired them. The entire show was intended to demonstrate the sacrifices and quiet commitment these families make to serve our country, often without much understanding or support from those of us who are removed from the process.
I've been closer to military families than most. Chad's brother spent several years in the Army and his family lived at Fort Bragg. He was deployed for over a year and his wife, Becca, stayed home with their baby daughter (who is now much older than I care to admit). So I kind of thought of myself as being relatively in tune to the struggles and sacrifices that these families make. I know about the missed holidays and birthdays, the pit in your stomach when they leave, the heartbreak when they lose people they know, and the unpredictability and frustrations of deployments and leaves.
Thanks for the show, Oprah, but, well, I get it.
Or so I thought.
I found myself unintentionally thinking about these military families a lot when Chad went off to Atlantic City for a guys' weekend. He left for work on Friday morning and for 60-some hours it was just me and Jackson. (Granted, I had no less than five people email me asking if I wanted to get together for lunch or coffee or a walk, etc., but for the most part it was just the two of us.) And I gained such an incredible appreciation for what it would be like if I was taking care of a child, especially a newborn, and my husband was gone all the time.
I would lose my mind.
It's not the days that would be bad. Jackson and I already spend every day, all day, together. And most of the time I actually enjoy it. But when you've done the eat/play/sleep rotation four or five times, it's nice to have something or, more specifically, someone else to look forward to. In my case, there's someone coming home every night with whom I can have a real conversation and eat an actual dinner. There's someone to warm me up when I crawl back into bed around 3 a.m. after Jackson eats, who doesn't even complain about my perpetually cold feet. And there's someone who actually seems interested in my banter about the intricate, though often boring, details of each day.
I'm sure women of deployed soldiers have a support system. But "support" or not, when 5 p.m. rolls around and you're not waiting for anyone to walk in the door, that's going to make for some long nights.
After my weekend alone, I've got a totally new appreciation for families of deployed soldiers, especially those with little babies. I have no idea how they do it. I really don't think I could.
The episode was on military families and really brought the heavyweights: Tom Brokaw, Ben Bradlee and Michelle Obama. Each highlighted a different military family that inspired them. The entire show was intended to demonstrate the sacrifices and quiet commitment these families make to serve our country, often without much understanding or support from those of us who are removed from the process.
I've been closer to military families than most. Chad's brother spent several years in the Army and his family lived at Fort Bragg. He was deployed for over a year and his wife, Becca, stayed home with their baby daughter (who is now much older than I care to admit). So I kind of thought of myself as being relatively in tune to the struggles and sacrifices that these families make. I know about the missed holidays and birthdays, the pit in your stomach when they leave, the heartbreak when they lose people they know, and the unpredictability and frustrations of deployments and leaves.
Thanks for the show, Oprah, but, well, I get it.
Or so I thought.
I found myself unintentionally thinking about these military families a lot when Chad went off to Atlantic City for a guys' weekend. He left for work on Friday morning and for 60-some hours it was just me and Jackson. (Granted, I had no less than five people email me asking if I wanted to get together for lunch or coffee or a walk, etc., but for the most part it was just the two of us.) And I gained such an incredible appreciation for what it would be like if I was taking care of a child, especially a newborn, and my husband was gone all the time.
I would lose my mind.
It's not the days that would be bad. Jackson and I already spend every day, all day, together. And most of the time I actually enjoy it. But when you've done the eat/play/sleep rotation four or five times, it's nice to have something or, more specifically, someone else to look forward to. In my case, there's someone coming home every night with whom I can have a real conversation and eat an actual dinner. There's someone to warm me up when I crawl back into bed around 3 a.m. after Jackson eats, who doesn't even complain about my perpetually cold feet. And there's someone who actually seems interested in my banter about the intricate, though often boring, details of each day.
I'm sure women of deployed soldiers have a support system. But "support" or not, when 5 p.m. rolls around and you're not waiting for anyone to walk in the door, that's going to make for some long nights.
After my weekend alone, I've got a totally new appreciation for families of deployed soldiers, especially those with little babies. I have no idea how they do it. I really don't think I could.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Jackson waves hello
At first, the smiles were fleeting. If I was lucky, I'd catch one. Or if Jackson were in juuuust the right mood, he might respond with a grin. (Or he might not.)
But in the past few days, he's started to smile almost on command. Of course, this is only when he's both not hungry and not tired, so there's about a 30-minute window within each four-hour period that this is possible.
This morning, Jackson wanted to give a special shout-out to all of his fans, especially his family. (Yes, I realize I forgot to call out the uncles so you get a special greeting in writing.) Happy Friday from all of us!
PS: Chad is heading to Atlantic City this weekend for his annual guys' weekend. That's the "trip" reference we're talking about. So Jackson and I are keeping ourselves occupied by making ridiculous videos like this.
But in the past few days, he's started to smile almost on command. Of course, this is only when he's both not hungry and not tired, so there's about a 30-minute window within each four-hour period that this is possible.
This morning, Jackson wanted to give a special shout-out to all of his fans, especially his family. (Yes, I realize I forgot to call out the uncles so you get a special greeting in writing.) Happy Friday from all of us!
PS: Chad is heading to Atlantic City this weekend for his annual guys' weekend. That's the "trip" reference we're talking about. So Jackson and I are keeping ourselves occupied by making ridiculous videos like this.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Office space
The woman who NRF hired to fill in for me during maternity leave - who is fabulous - is also pregnant, due at the end of February. Today, NRF threw her a surprise shower and I went into the office.
As with any "appointment" lately, I was a little nervous that we wouldn't be on time. I was up at 5:45 a.m. (not my choice) and still couldn't conceptualize how Jackson and I were going to make it into the city by 12:15. He ate. He played while I made coffee and tried to keep my eyes open. He napped. He took a bath. He ate again. He napped. And then I finally decided to bite the bullet and venture downtown, saying a silent prayer that Jackson's excursion into DC did not end - or begin - with a screamfest through the halls of my very serene office.
It was about as normal of a day as I've had in ages. Jackson's Aunt RT kept him over her lunch hour while I went out with the other people in my department. ("WOW," I kept thinking. "I used to do things like this all the time!" It feels like a million years ago.)
Before and after the festivities, Jackson managed to charm his way through the halls of NRF, even flashing smiles to a handful of lucky co-workers (most importantly, the woman who signs my paycheck! Way to go, buddy...). We were there four hours and Mr. Personality put on a show for everyone right up until the very last minute when this picture was taken.
He's been asleep ever since. Guess that adventure wore him out almost as much as me!
Jackson's Grandma Margaret ventured to guess that he may have a career in public relations. After his performance today, I've got to agree. At least I hope it's public relations and not politics!
As with any "appointment" lately, I was a little nervous that we wouldn't be on time. I was up at 5:45 a.m. (not my choice) and still couldn't conceptualize how Jackson and I were going to make it into the city by 12:15. He ate. He played while I made coffee and tried to keep my eyes open. He napped. He took a bath. He ate again. He napped. And then I finally decided to bite the bullet and venture downtown, saying a silent prayer that Jackson's excursion into DC did not end - or begin - with a screamfest through the halls of my very serene office.
Before and after the festivities, Jackson managed to charm his way through the halls of NRF, even flashing smiles to a handful of lucky co-workers (most importantly, the woman who signs my paycheck! Way to go, buddy...). We were there four hours and Mr. Personality put on a show for everyone right up until the very last minute when this picture was taken.
He's been asleep ever since. Guess that adventure wore him out almost as much as me!
Jackson's Grandma Margaret ventured to guess that he may have a career in public relations. After his performance today, I've got to agree. At least I hope it's public relations and not politics!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Pay it forward
After a call to the pediatrician and a quick trip to CVS, our little buddy is back to his normal self. He's hardly perfect but at least we're over that hump of screaming for no reason. I even managed to photograph an ear-to-ear smile from him for the first time today...and make a batch of cookies, do a load of laundry, shower (and dry my hair and put on make-up), AND eat lunch! The angels were smiling on me today, I'm sure of it!
But back to my original headline...
I've mentioned before that we're so lucky to have an incredible group of friends out here that I really consider a second family. When we had Jackson, we didn't cook for two weeks. When Chad had his knee surgery, a friend took the day off work to stay at our house with a one-week-old baby all day long (three others volunteered - there was literally a list of takers!). And we've had more than one email from people who have said, "I'm free on [fill in the blank]. Why don't I come over for a few hours so you and Chad can go to dinner?" Umm...you don't have to ask me twice!
So last week when I was making lasagna for us, I made extra: One for some friends of ours who just had a baby girl and another for Chad's family friends who just moved to town with their three-week-old. In those first few foggy days of parenthood, I appreciated more than I can say how nice it was to open the fridge and find something to eat when I couldn't even remember if I'd brushed my teeth. It was time for us to pay it forward.
We didn't invite ourselves in, just did a little drop-and-run with a smile on our faces. Even if they hated the lasagna, it made me happy. And if I ever feel like I have time in my life again, I'll be doing things like this even more often!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)