Nap blog

The babe and the buddy...behind bars

Our dog secretly rendezvoused with the busiest street in our neighborhood yesterday resulting in frantic hours walking the streets and questioning neighbors and, ultimately, a family trip out to a shelter in the country. I am grateful every five minutes for such a generous bundle of fortunate circumstances. He thought he had a grand adventure. I aged one dog year.  

The babe is finally contained. Her Grams had a play-yard delivered. It looks like a collection of baby gates all connected to form an orbit around her. It has devoured our living room floor. It gives us a little more piece of mind. Just a little, as she won't spend more than ten minutes on lock down before noticing she is alone and demanding parole.

Yo Gabba Gabba

A friend once told me that the only moments of relief she got in the early days as a mommy were from The Teletubbies. She could put her high-energy son in front of the TV for the duration of the show. She could shower, she could shotgun a beer, she could take a deep, deep breath and get ready to start again. Just kidding about the beer. 

The AAP be damned, I searched for that show and, when I found it, I put the babe's little papasan chair right in front of the TV and...

...nothing. 

Her inner Al Bundy was still in the closet.

I tried other shows. She was vastly uninterested. What kind of a mother tries to entice her child to sit in front of a TV and rot her blossoming mind (especially with something so creepy)? A very tired one. I just wanted one show. One hour. Thirty minutes even! In thirty minutes I could make and eat a sandwich with both hands. I could shower and blow-dry my hair. I could power-nap. Just to use the bathroom alone would be nirvana. The babe dodged all of my best efforts. And now I understood why parents bought Barney videos.

By chance, a show happened to us. I never thought she and I could both be entertained by the same program. I just don't dream that big. Yo Gabba Gabba is that show and it isn't just for kids. I have seen a live performance from Cornelius, a lullaby by Red House Painters, and a Tony Hawk skate demo. Because of YGG, I have even been introduced to new bands like The Salteens. 

The babe is overcome with happiness the moment the host's big, hairy, orange hat appears on screen. 

       

She lights up like this when she sees me...her father...and DJ Lance Rock.

  

Nap Blog

I should be vacuuming the dog hair off the rug.  The babe is in constant motion and is no longer contained within simple boundaries. She is fast, too.  Last night, I laid her at the foot of the bed. I blinked. She was suddenly and soundlessly at the head of the bed. She is trying to shimmy under the sofa when we aren't looking which means I finally have to battle the dust bunnies. 

A. has defended our borders well but now it is time to attack.

Spring

Babe,

I have been reflecting back to October and to how difficult all of this was in the beginning. We brought you home from the hospital on a cold, rainy night that epitomized our first weeks. The sky was always dark.  There were storms.  It was windy and cold.  We were all prisoners in this tiny house.  I lost a lot of blood during your birth and was still very weak.  My world shrunk into restless midnights in our dark bedroom.  Then, it shrunk further, into the stormy microclimate between you, your father, and me.  I retreated still, until I was living with only you inside the dark circle of my arms where I studied the furrows of your little countenance like a scientist. Sometimes I felt like those autumn clouds were hiding in my eyebrows.  I felt those cold showers in my brain. It was like the weather sympathized with us. 

 

Your heartbeat was always reaching out to me. I saw its power in the eyes of your midwives.  I heard the surprise of its strength in their laughter.  You have always been strong.  Those stethoscopes were foghorns predicting safety after the storm.   It was a beacon.  If I were wiser I could have rested in its promise.

 

I can talk about those cloudy days now because it is Spring.  I feel the importance of those learning times like the cycle of the seasons.  You are blossoming like the pretty pink bushes outside. Your father and I are blossoming, too.  We are being fed with the sunshine you beam into our lives.  Your innate fortitude is leading the way and your unconditional love is filling our hearts with warmth. We are becoming better people because of you.  Your growth is mirroring the Earth’s celestial path around its own sun and our world revolves around you.  

Time to shine

I start taking appointments for facials and limited waxing on Monday.  I'm excited that I'll be liberated from my home for two working days. I am also glad to finally be using all this knowledge and skill to make people smooth. I am still really nervous.  No one expects me to be perfect right out of the starting gate.  Most of the pressure is coming from myself.  I just want to do a good job and I'm really not ready to be thrust back into a service industry.  In any service industry, every mistake you make is a reason to call a manager.  And in this occupation, every single hair remaining on a waxed leg is a big mistake.  One single hair could damage my reputation.  Think about that.

Last night, the babe slept in her crib from 9something to 5:30 this morning.  I couldn't sleep at all.  I checked her breathing every couple hours.  I really missed her.  I'm glad she is ready for this important step.  I'll try to match my newborn's courage and leap into the unknown with grace.

Nap time

This post is my first real-time nap blog.  The babe is down, after fighting me all day.  She made it to 4:30 with a mere hour of sleep under her figurative belt.  Oh, why do the wee ones dread naps so much?  When she stirs, I'll publish.

I had wax training yesterday.  I thought I bungled my facial.  Yikes! Get hairy. If you live in the area, you are going to be my guinea pig. You may tremble, you may yell but, you will thank me when I'm done! More later.  The babe bellows...

They Might Be Giants Podcast

For the young and young at heart!

The babe and I were searching for some tunes in our music library today. The slow, lullaby jams are our daily. (Btw, I highly recommend Azure Ray, Pinback, The Album Leaf, Early Day Miners and Sigur Ros. It really isn’t necessary to listen to Mozart unless you crave it. I think variety expands their noggins anyway.) Anyhow. this was the first occasion where I was looking for something danceable. Until now, it was never a good idea to add any spice to my infant’s day. She arrived saucy! But tummy time and mobile chasing lost their charm without yawns. Today, the babe was ready for more.

Where would you go first? They Might Be Giants just seemed the obvious choice. They’re fun, they’re frisky, they’ve actually covered educational songs. The babe worked it out to "The Statue Got Me High". It made her so happy that I thought I might look around and see if they have done anything new. Not that they had to but, they have made CDs and DVDs specifically for kids. They also have a podcast which includes a special Friday night edition just for children and families. Puppet involvement makes it irresistible! 

You can clicky at itunes for freebies and they’re website takes you to all the fun places where their stuff is.

 

http://theymightbegiants.com/ 

Our generation is doing things their own way, especially with music. I kinda like that TMBG bridges the gap between puerile infant junk and things with more sophistication. I’m not quite ready to expose my PYT to certain themes. For example, I used to love singing her to sleep with "My Mother was a Chinese Trapeze Artist" until it occurred to me that one day soon she might ask: "Mommy, what’s a brothel?’ or even worse: "Grammy, what’s a prostitute?". I realized that I wanted her innocence intact. She’ll have to be at least 3 before she hears that again. :)

I Write the Songs

Another step forward into my babe-induced dorkiness.  I invent songs now.  Bad songs.  I only sing them because they make her smile.

Months ago, my fellow mommy friend confessed to me that she did this.  "I'll never do that," I thought.  "I'm too self-conscious."  Show me a self-conscious mother and I'll show you a gnome on a leprechaun on a woman who hates shoes!  It would seem that nobody's opinion of me is more important than my daughter's smile.

So you won't be surprised if you hear:

"You've Got No Pants"

"You Aren't Wearing Any Pants Right Now [Papa remix]"

or

"Let Me Wipe Your Mouth (With a Burp Cloth, Girl)"