Over-the-Moon

Tell the truth Experienced Moms and Dads, do you ever walk by the couples who are clearly expecting their first child...you know the ones - they are euphorically walking hand-in-hand (in the city, because that's where they still live), leisurely perusing baby books at a bookstore, enjoying an inordinately long dinner while discussing an upcoming "babymoon" -- are you quietly (but loudly in your head) thinking...HA!  you don't know what you're in for!  Even as you congratulate your ever-growing inner circle who are starting to have children, and express all the right, trite -isms like "welcome to parenthood!"....are you really thinking, "thank god we're not the only ones!"  Not that I would ever rain on that "we're pregnant and so excited" parade for anyone...aside from the inconveniences and discomforts of pregnancy for the women, it is one of the happiest times in a couple's collective life.  You're filled with such anticipation and excitement and relief because you are on a road that you may have fantasized about your whole life...there is an abundance of love and well-wishes from every corner, families coming together, it's like a 9 month-long wedding without the booze (wait, that doesn't sound so great, but you get the point). 

In reality, though, that over-the-moon couple who is casually taking a walk by the lake is soon about to experience the biggest shake-up of their lives and they can't even see it coming.  Sure, they've heard about the lack of sleep (but we'll read Babywise and be sleeping through the night at 9 weeks, right?) and the colic (but we'll just shh, swaddle, swing, right?) and all of the other evils of the "fourth trimester" that obviously can ONLY be combatted with the ancient practices of gas drops, under-stimulation and eat/play/sleep...but the secret that only the Experienced Moms and Dads can tell you is that as hard as all of that stuff is, it's not what actually rocks your world.  The first few months, and perhaps the whole first year, are all about survival, but while you are wholly focused on the survival of your baby (and yourself), there is something else independently going on that no book, friend, mother, anything can really prepare you for.  You are becoming a parent, and man can that throw you for a loop.  At some point, whether it's months or even years after your child is born, it hits you...you are no longer the person you once were.  And I don't mean that every part of you centers around your children...but how you perceive the world, your relationships, your priorities, your aspirations...it all experiences a shift, some subtle and some extreme, some great and some not so great.  Just enough such that you'll have moments where you don't quite know who you are anymore.  This can be extremely disconcerting.  Especially when you realize that this new life is here to stay.  You are forever-more, first and foremost a parent.  It outlasts separation, and death.  You will never love anything more, you will never worry less, you will always be busy and tired, you won't ever make an important decision without considering them first.  There won't be endless dinners out or casual book shopping for a while.  It's the most wonderful, yet also the hardest thing you'll ever experience.  And it's forever.  Gulp.

But parenthood is also an ever-evolving state of being,  You never know what's coming next, or how it will affect you and the decisions you make for your life.  So accepting the sheer permanence of it all is hard enough; but also learning how to be open to changing and evolving in ways that are unfamiliar and unpredictable is damn near terrifying.  Yet - once you accept that it's happening - it can also be exhilirating.  Although there are things about myself I really miss (like the ability to stay awake through a movie), I am slowly learning to embrace this new stage as an opportunity.  Having children has forced me to focus on what I really care about, what I'm willing to speak up about, what I need to work on.   What really makes me happy.  This sort of exercise takes work and change takes courage.  I don't know all of the answers.  But I'm depending on my kids to teach me how to be agile. 

So, Experienced Moms and Dads, next time you see a blissful soon-to-be-parent casually shopping for a crib (while you run in and out of BabysRUs in 2.4 seconds with everything on your list so you can be back at home in time for nap), go easy on them.  They don't know the changes they're in for, it's true.  But knowing that they'll soon experience goodnight kisses, Saturday morning snuggles and the "you won't believe what he said today" recountings with their spouse at the end of the day should reassure you that they'll eventually be just fine.

Remember When

I think I'm officially in a new era.  It started to hit me after having my first kid, but at that point we still lived in the city and we still mostly ran around with the same crowd, many of whom were still single.  But now, 2 kids and a move to the suburbs later, I'm looking around and realizing that life is pulling everyone I know in different directions - whether it's marriage, or kids, a move to the suburbs, a move out of state, a job change.  It's all exciting and entirely normal, of course, but I'm looking into the barrel of a few of my best girl friends moving away and, well, I'm a bit wistful.  Wistful of a time when we would stay out until 4am on a Tuesday, when we'd wake up late on a Sunday and eat cheese fries in bed, talk about something other than men and kids (like what, I couldn't tell you), when we actually spoke on the phone, when we'd pile up in an old car to Madison and eat Steak n Shake both ways, when friends from Indy, Wisconsin, Nashville, wherever, would come and crash on our couch without notice, when brunch was not something you had to plan a month in advance.

I don't long to return to that time, but it is hitting me that it really is in the past now...soon it will sound like high school and college memories that you rehash every time you hang out with your friends from those eras, stories that are old but that can always be revived as if they happened the day before.  The "remember when" conversations.  It is quite wonderful to have friendships that span across the different eras of your life.  Your REALLY old friends knew you when you wore braces, still remember your parents' phone number,  saw you drunk for the first time...they understand why you ended up with your particular significant other and why you chose your profession because they knew all of your exes and studied for the SATs with you.  Then college/grad school/20s friends came into the mix...they found you as a kid and helped you become a grown-up, they were with you when you found out you passed the bar, they helped your boyfriend pick out a ring, they came to your first dinner party, they know what you actually do for a living.  It's surprising, at first, when you start to call these ones your best friends too, but at some point you realize they know you just as well, or even better, than some of those really old ones.

Some people fall out as you pass through these stages, but the ones who stick, they're yours for life.  There is no saying goodbye to them, but as lives change, inevitably so do the rhythms of your relationships.  I think a part of me had fantasized that we could enter the next stage - of settling down, raising kids - all in tact.  But in reality many of my close friends live in different cities, and those who live nearby are getting busier such that getting together takes planning and effort.  It seems I am entering a new era of friendship, of meeting people through our kids, becoming a part of a neighborhood.  These new people won't know how awesome I looked in jinco jeans, won't know what our go-to karaoke songs were, and may never know my maiden name, but they'll probably end up knowing my kids better than some of my old friends do, they'll drink wine in our backyard on Sundays and help us out when we lock ourselves out of the house.

One day, perhaps, I might even be able to call them best friends.

The New Normal

After almost 15 weeks at home with my two kids, I'm officially back at work.  I was riddled with angst in the weeks leading up to "the day."  The thought of coming back made me physically nauseous, made me regularly cry.  I just couldn't imagine actually waking up in the morning, taking a shower, and walking out the door.  Mind you, this is my second time returning to work after having a baby.  I should have known what to expect, right?  It should have been easier?  It wasn't.. it was actually much harder.  This time I was leaving 2 babies.  I hadn't really thought of the fact that I would also be getting 3.5 months with my 2.5yr old and leaving him would sting too.  Being with a newborn all day by yourself can be rather isolating, but having a sidekick toddler with you who sings "wheels on the bus" in the background while you nurse and frequently asks to hold and kiss the baby makes the newborn experience much more entertaining (although having the toddler in the mix means getting a nap in for yourself is damn near impossible).  My experience during this maternity leave was, just, different.

But then, just like that,  it was over.  As is the case with any day you're hoping never comes, my return date came so fast that I was completely unprepared and in denial until the last minute (at 11 o'clock the night before I found myself asking where is my work laptop?  where are my keys?  oh i guess i need to pack up my pump?).  In the morning, I woke up, took a shower, and actually walked out the door (well, after nursing my baby, packing my lunch, getting pooped on, frantically reminding our new nanny of a million different things, making a cup of tea that would do nothing to wake me up, etc., etc., etc).  But, I did it.  I left.  And I was sad, of course.  I knew I wasn't going to get my big morning hug from my waking toddler and I wasn't going to see my baby's sweet smile all day long.  I knew I would miss them.  But that's not really what made me sad.  The most common refrain you will hear from everyone when you go back to work is that you will get used to it and that it will get easier.  And they are 100% right.  It does get easier.  You get back into the working world and remember how great it is to sit and eat an uninterrupted lunch while surfing the web.  You appreciate having adult conversations, feeling smart again, showering every morning.  You become current on the news and songs on the radio.  You always miss your kids, but when you have a great caretaker and are reassured they are thriving, you worry less and less.  You treasure the time you have with them when you get home.  If they are fine, you are fine, and it becomes the new normal.  But that's precisely what has made me sad this time.  A part of me doesn't want me to just get used to all of it - only seeing them a couple hours in the evenings, not doing the school pick-up/drop-offs, not having breakfast with them.  A part of me is asking whether I want to get used to it.  Sure, when you work outside the home full-time you also skip out on much of the mundane home routine - which can be exhausting and repetitive - and you tend to make every minute you do have with your kid count, something you may not do if you are always with them.   But whether we like to admit it or not, we do miss out on things with our kids when we are away.  Not the big things, they catch you up on that stuff.  But some of the little things...the conversations in the car after school, the non-rushed morning cuddles, playing soccer in the driveway before lunch.  You have to ask yourself, is what I'm doing worth missing those things.  It's an extremely complicated question, because it requires you to evaluate your career (where is it going? am I in the right one?), your finances (could we afford different choices?  what do we want to be able to provide for our family?), your values (what kind of example do I want to set for my kids?), your parenting (are my kids in the best possible care? would they actually be better off with more time with me?), and yourself (what will make me the most happy? what are my life goals?).   I'm afraid that if I get used to the new normal, I'll stop actively making that assessment.  It's a running dialogue in the mind of almost every working mom I know, and yet I think at some point, it's easier to get used to the status quo and move on.  Mainly because answering those questions may result in taking a big risk on a new path, which is utterly terrifying (at least for me).  But this time, I'm fighting the urge to completely adjust, just for a minute, to make sure I'm on my right path.  And I don't know, maybe I'll never be completely sure that I'm making the best decisions, but isn't it worthwhile to continue to test and re-test our choices?

Happy BabyMama

We passed the 12 week mark a couple weeks back.  The fog is starting to lift.  I am able to think clearly again, even about things other than the baby.  My body has adjusted to the sleep deprivation such that waking up 2-3x/night feels totally normal (and, sadly, like an improvement).  I don't even remember what sleeping all night long feels like (actually, I do, and it was awesome, but I'll pretend).  Life is much busier, I have a to-do list I can't start and sometimes I want to have adult beverages during the daytime, but, this time around, I have to say that I actually feel....happy.

If I sound surprised by that, it might be because I am.  With my first son, 12 weeks hardly felt like a milestone.  The day passed and I was still a sleep-deprived, perhaps somewhat depressed, definitely somewhat overwhelmed first-time mom.  He cried.  A lot.  He hardly slept.  He nursed constantly.  I felt mentally and physically kaput.  And I was pissed that the books promised that everything would get easier after we passed the magical 12 week mark.  My baby didn't miraculously stop being colicky, he didn't suddenly seem adjusted to post-womb life, and I didn't feel much better.  I wondered if I was supposed to be enjoying it more.  I wondered if I was strong enough to be a mom.  It felt like a neverending cycle, a spinning wheel I couldn't get off, and sometimes I wanted to.  But then I felt greatly disappointed in myself and guilty for having such thoughts, so I didn't say much about it (aside from passive-aggressively taking it out on myself, my husband, my family - oops).  It did pass eventually, probably around month 5, but I still wondered what it was....was it the fussy baby (or was he normal?  how are you supposed to know what normal is with your first?)...was it hormones, was it sleep deprivation, was it simply the life adjustment (or shall we say, upheaval) that comes with having a kid?  I couldn't pin it down.  But now, after having another experience to compare it to, I'm convinced.

It was (mostly) the baby's fault.

Ok, ok, yes not sleeping while your hormones are tanking and while you are trying to figure out how to be a mom all take a toll on your mood.  But dealing with all of that while also taking care of a colicky newborn takes your emotional well-being to a different place.  I remember reading that the "unlucky" parents of colicky children often experience depression, marital difficulties, etc - what??  A crying baby can ruin your entire goddamn life?  How could that be?  But if you get one, especially if you don't know you have one because you're a first-time parent who has been told she should "enjoy every moment", you start to lose your mind. 

Now with my second son, I'm having a completely different experience.  This sweet little creature has given me an overwhelming feeling happiness from the day he was born.  And it hasn't wavered, not when I have been up all night, not when both of the kids (and I) got sick, not when I was pumping and dumping in the middle of a wedding while my husband hand-fed me pizza (true story).  He cries, of course,  but not for long periods.  He is consolable and happy.  And, therefore, so am I.  People are quick to point out that I'm probably also a lot less stressed this time, and of course that is true.  But I am even more sleep deprived than the first time, a lot more busy taking care of 2 on my own the last few months, and have half the maternity leave, and yet I feel a sense of peace that I did not feel the first time at this same point...I think so much of it is due to the endless smiles of my Nevin and the constant hilarity of my Noah (that colicky little first-born turned out to be the funniest, smartest and sweetest toddler).  Your children - for better or for worse - can so poignantly affect your emotions in a way no one else can.    

So if you think you have a fussy or colicky baby, you probably do.  Go easy on yourself, and know that it will pass.  Don't feel guilty when you feel low.  Vent to a friend who has gone through it when it gets really bad (thanks AK!), because others won't get it.  When others comment on their "easy babies", just keep in mind that your baby may become a perfect toddler (which, btw, is better!) and your next kid will feel like a breeze.  You are not "unlucky" (ahem, Mr. Weisbluth)....every baby is a blessing.  And no matter what your baby is like, it is impossible to "enjoy every moment" as a parent....the true goal is to feel joy through it all. 

Letter to my First-Born

Dear Noah,

In a few weeks you're going to have a brand new little brother.  You love your "big brother" books, and you regularly kiss and high-five my belly, but as a 2yr old, you probably can't really process what this means.  Hell, as 32yr olds, I'm not sure your dad and I have really processed the life change that is about to happen.  For 2+ years it's been the three amigos.  You never have to choose who to sit next to because you're always in between us, when you yell out "mommy COME HERE!" I always do, when you want to turn the lights off in your room and look for airplanes, stars, and the "real moon" in the sky for a half hour I happily oblige.  But all of that, and much more, is about to change.  Maybe it sounds strange, but as excited as I am for the new arrival, there is a part of me that is a little sad that our threesome is about to get shaken up.  I know there will soon be a day where we can't imagine life without your little brother, and you will never remember a day when you didn't have a sibling, but I want you to know that you will forever hold a special place in my heart as my first-born, the one who changed everything...

- You were the one who taught me what true, unconditional, scary, something-beyond-yourself, LOVE really is.  I love your daddy in unparalleled ways, but I know that he would agree that our love for you and our family surpasses anything we could have imagined.  I know I will love your brother as much as I love you, but it will always be you who first tore open my heart & soul in such a profound way.

- You were the one who taught me how strong, and how weak, I really am.  You think you know yourself until you have a child, but you little creatures force us to test all of our theories about ourselves.  Some of them hold steady, many of them don't.  It's humbling, and restorative all at the same time.

- You made me appreciate my mom and all women in a way I never had.  I love that a little boy made me a feminist. 

- You made me love your dad even more.  We had 11 years together before you were in the picture, and yet seeing his love for you, and your love for him, was profound to me.  He's the only other person in the world who truly understands and loves you the way I do.  How amazing that he and I get to share that?  You made us a family.

- You were the first baby to kick the inside of my belly, nurse from me, call me "mommy", say I love you, hug and kiss me unprompted, call out to me in the night, run to me when scared, trust me with your whole heart....these are firsts I will treasure until my last breath.

- You were the one who made me really understand that creating, birthing and raising another life is a true gift.  As natural and commonplace as it is, it is nothing short of miraculous.  It is never lost on me, even the second time around. 

- You were the first to teach me the hard lesson of giving up sleep...and free time...and privacy...and not having encumbrances.  But you made me realize that none of that actually matters.  I would give all of that up again, and again (and I suppose I am).  I hope one day your brother thanks you for paving the way, as I'm sure (well, I hope) I will be much more patient and centered this time around. 

- If in the next several months it seems like I'm holding or cuddling or kissing your brother way too much for your liking, it's because you taught me how quickly babies grow up and wriggle away. 

- You made me want to live forever. 

- Last but not least - despite my kicking and screaming - you taught me to let go.  Let go of expecations, of fears, accept and appreciate the present, and have faith that we're not given anything we can't handle.  I'm not sure how such a little boy taught me such big lessons, but apparently you are wise beyond your two short years. 

I'm sure I will re-learn all of this when your baby brother arrives, and you both will continue to change my life in ways I can't yet imagine...but you will always be my first little love, and the past 2 years will always be so dear to me.  Thank you for giving me the honor of being your mama every single day!

Goodbye to the City

This past month has been utter chaos.  After looking for months for a house in anticipation of baby #2 (more on that later) and having all but given up, we found one.  Exciting yes, but also put us on a roller coaster ride of dealing with the purchase, deciding what to do with our condo in the city, setting up the move, figuring out our nanny situation and the list goes on and on and on.  All while 7 months prego.  In all of the craziness, I haven't processed a reality that is only now starting to hit me....that in in 2 weeks, we will be leaving the city...forever. We'll be leaving our condo....the first home we've owned, the home where we opened our wedding gifts, had many parties, the home where we brought our son from the hospital for the first time and the place he, now as a 2yr old, refers to as home.  We're leaving a neighborhood we have grown to love, and the things we don't love about it are things in a way I can't imagine living without.  I know we will find completely different things to love about our new neighborhood, and we are ecstatic about having more space and a yard, but I feel the need to say goodbye to some of the things that will be missed most as we move on to the next phase:

Goodbye to walking.  When you live in the city, you are used to walking everywhere.  I'll miss our walks to the farmer's market, parks, restaurants.  I'll miss walking Noah to the end of our street to watch choo-choos.

Goodbye to our dry cleaner, our 7-11 employees, our nail salon peeps.  We have oddly close relationships with all of them.  Our dry cleaner gave us money for our wedding.  Our nail lady (I say "our" because they know Adam better than me, not for pedicures, but for foot massages ha) has texted me for playdates.  The 7-11 guys know our kid's name.  It's weirdly awesome, and will be missed.

Goodbye some of the best food in city within delivery range.  Macku, Flub a Dub, Yen's on random Sunday nights, oh how you will be missed.

Goodbye to the crazies.  You get very accustomed to crazies in the city.  I may miss the guy on the El wearing sweatpants with no underwear while eating egg salad with his bare hands  Or I may not.  TBD.

Goodbye to summer street festivals.  At least we'll have Ravinia.

Goodbye to Gay Pride and Market Days just outside our condo.  I can't say I'll miss finding random condoms in the alley, but the sheer spectacle of it all, sure I'll miss it.  On that same note, goodbye to the trannies, cross-dressers, and the men who wear bikini bottoms at any time of year.  It all seems so normal to me now.

Goodbye to the Cubs.  While on one side of our condo we have Boystown, on the other side we have Wrigley. Goodbye to the "bros" who get kicked out of Houndstooth every game day, goodbye to the drunk girls in shorts on 40 degree opening days, goodbye to being able to walk to one of the best places in the country to eat a brat, drink Busch Heavy and watch baseball.

Goodbye to cabs.  Oof, hello to designated driving.

Goodbye to the energy.  You suburb veterans may call it noise, but to me the ambulance sirens, the honking, the people walking at all hours of the night, and yelling over the sounds of the El while on your phone is all part and parcel of an energy you simply can't match anywhere else.  I'll miss catching whiffs of pee in random places.  I really will. 

Goodbye to lugging groceries/dry cleaning/kids up stairs, to tight parking spaces, to hearing people walk above you, to walking with bags of groceries, to walking in the snow to the El, to spacebagging everything, to driving through snowy alleys to park at your house, to treating a balcony like a yard, to condo association meetings.  Ok, so I won't miss any of you.  But we'll always remember how it "once was", and our city-boy son who currently knows the difference between the 8 bus and the 22 will wonder how we ever lived that way.

So goodbye city....goodbye to Roscoe, to our "Chicago" address...I am so thankful for the many years of joy you have brought to us.  I am so excited for our new adventure on the North Shore, but you will always be our first home. 

Are you a bad mom?

At some point (perhaps daily), every mom feels like she is doing a shitty job.  Am I spending enough time with them?  Do I do too much/too little for them?  Do they even like me?  There are moments where you feel like you are doing it right (for example, I got home yesterday and my smiley son looked right in my eyes and yelped "happy (to) see you, mama!" - yay!  I guess I'm doing ok!), but then something else happens and you are back to reassessing and doubting your abilities.  When you really think about it, though, it's actually pretty hard to be a "bad mom."  Abuse and neglect would certainly count as bad mom activities, but if you love your kids and are mostly sane, these aren't possibilities for you.  The love part is easy, a given (maybe not the sanity).  There is nothing more natural or unconditional than a mother's love for her child.  Tale as old as time.  One of the main reasons humankind and animalkind persists.  Most moms put their kids first because there is no choice not to, anything else would go against instinct.  This doesn't mean you have to be president of the PTA or that your child never leaves your sight or that you never admit that bedtime is a relief (ha!).  It just means you love your kids, are there for them, and make sure they have everything they need (even if it means you don't have everything YOU want).  Even when you think about the girl friends you have who you can't imagine with kids because they've never taken care of so much as a plant or because they take 2 hours to get ready everyday or have never cooed at a baby, chances are if they actually have one of their own, you'll see a kind of transformation that can only arise from being ultimately responsible for another being.  Will they actually enjoy motherhood?  Maybe not as much as some, but perhaps more than they (and you) thought they would.  And they probably won't be a "bad mom." 

Though raising a kid is hard work (and raising a good kid even harder I think), feeling like a good mom isn't as hard if we just remember what really matters.  I think we are all trained to think we have to do more, be more and have everything figured out at all times.  In reality, if we love our kids and are invested in their happiness, as well as our own, we probably can't screw it up that badly.  So next time you feel like a bad mom because you let your son walk outside barefoot and he screams because his feet are burning.....or, you have to leave for work while he hangs onto your feet crying "mama please sit".......or, you turn on Mickey when you get home from work so you can just sit for 24 minutes..............try the love test.  Do you love him, does he (most of the time) seem to love you?  Are you all safe and (most of the time) happy?  Then you're doing just fine.  And when he tells you he's happy to see you, dammit, believe him and relish in it.