Wittlebee

This week, we received our first Wittlebee box: a really cute three piece purple set, grey sweatpants, a threadless t-shirt, and an orange hooded sweatshirt.

We can't wait to see what they send next month!

If you are interested in having cute kid's clothes sent to you without having to shop or even think about it, you should check it out. And if you use my link, you save $10.

Six Months

This is a little late, since she'll be seven months on Tuesday.  But let's just say that so far, six months is the best.

Hello, Kitty.

Dear Leo's Mom

I saw you crying when you dropped Leo off at daycare for the first time today. I wanted to hug you, to tell you that it's okay, that it gets better. But the truth is that I don't know if it does. We just learn to hide it better so that we can get done what needs to get done, and so that our babies don't know that we're really a wreck inside.

It's not like the daycare isn't a good place. It is. They've been taking excellent care of my daughter for the past two months. She is happy and well-cared for, and really, what more could I ask? Still, if I didn't have to work, I'd be staying at home with her, soaking up all the cuddles and delighting in watching her figure out this crazy, extraordinary world. But that's not currently in the budget.

You are lucky, in some respects: Leo is over 4 months old and today is the first day that you dropped him off. I had to go back to work when my baby was just 12 weeks old, still a newborn. And, like you, I cried.

I cried after every babysitter interview. When we finally found someone, and I left her the first time, just for two hours as a transition, I cried the entire time. Then, when I went back to work full-time, I cried in the car for a week. Some days, I cried in my office, and in the evening after I put her to sleep. And then, three weeks later, when she started at the daycare? I went through the whole process all over again.

I cried because I felt like such a bad mommy. But now I know, I am not a bad mommy: I am doing what I need to do to take care of my family to the best of my ability. Bad mommies are the ones that don't make sacrifices to take care of their families; mommies that always put their own wants and desires first.

You are not a bad mommy.

It gets easier. I promise.

"Sleeps like a baby." Yeah, right.

I left work early on Friday to take the baby to the pediatrician for her four-month well-baby visit.  She got shots, and we both seem to be handling it better now. She only screamed for a minute before falling asleep, and this time, I only got a little teary-eyed.  Then we came home and she had her first rice cereal.

Of course, she was fussy and sick all weekend. On Saturday, she barfed so much that I think we set a record in the number of outfit changes in a single day -- hers AND mine. Sometimes it seems like she holds it in until I'm the one holding her, and then she lets go.  She almost always smiles after she barfs on me, particularly if I've just showered. 

She loves to pull my hair.  I got a haircut yesterday, and when she saw me, she cried. It was like I threw out her favorite toy.

This week, she decided that she hates sleeping in her crib. She waits for me to fall asleep and then cries, inconsolably, until I take her into bed with me, which means that I'm sleeping in the guest bed about 75% of the time, so L can sleep. Then she will only sleep ON me.  Of course, on L's days off, when he goes in to console her, she seems to go right back to sleep. 

Sleeping like a baby. When it suits her.

She is SO good at daycare, all smiles and sunshine. The teachers love her to pieces: we walk in, and they all can't wait to snuggle with my baby. But they think that I'm a disaster. Today, when I took her in -- late, because she woke up at 5:30 and then fell asleep when I was trying to get us out the door --  all of the teachers were super concerned because she has a big cut on her cheek. Of course, they weren't around during the hysterical crying fit where she clawed her face.  

The worst was Friday, when they called me to ask me whether it was okay to wake her up, because she slept for over 2 hours.  Of course she sleeps there -- BECAUSE SHE WON'T SLEEP AT NIGHT, IN HER CRIB.

Three Months

The first three months went by in a whirlwind.

One minute it was my due date, and it seemed like I had been pregnant forever, not just 40 weeks.  There I was, planning my induction for the next week, and heading into the office because I would go stir-crazy at home, waiting ... and seemingly out of nowhere, my water broke, and I was headed to the hospital to have the baby.  Then, the long, long, LONG unproductive labor, followed by the c-section, and then -- the best part -- getting to meet our new little person for the very first time.

One day.

Since then, it seems like time has sped up.

One Month.

Every millisecond seems to go by more quickly than the previous one.

Two Months.

My once-teeny-tiny little newborn is now a sweet, wonderful, three month old girl.  She holds her head up by herself; she plays with toys; she giggles, squeals and coos in an attempt to communicate. Sometimes I am scared to blink, for fear that I will miss the next great achievement.

Three Months.

Week 40

We've made it in to our 40th week, and all is relatively well. I am ready for the pregnancy to be over (and the parenting to begin); the baby seems to be quite comfortable staying where she is. L says that she gets the stubbornness from my side of the family.

At the doctor this week, we picked out an induction date, just in case the baby doesn't budge. I'm glad there's an end in sight, but I really thought that things would get going on their own.

Honestly, I have to admit that I'm a little bummed that there's no sign of the baby yet today. I mean, how perfect would it be for a mom born on one all-American holiday (Thanksgiving Day) to have a daughter born on the other (Independence Day)? Then again, my sister was born on Christmas, and while my nephew was due around Easter, he wasn't born that day either. Maybe I should stop looking for patterns in these things....

Almost-Mother's Day

It's been a long time since I really celebrated Mother's Day. For the past four years without my mom it's been hard -- a reminder of what I've lost.

But this year was the start of something new for me, my identity as a mother and not just as a daughter and granddaughter. Even though the baby is not-quite-here yet, I am already her mommy, and she is already my child, my daughter. There's just so much to look forward to in that.

L sent me lovely flowers, and informed me via text message that the baby helped pick them out. I'm not quite sure how that works, since I'm fairly certain that the only one she communicates with is me, and it's through kicks and punches.


Over the past few months, with the pregnancy, my mother has been back in my dreams, a lot. I mostly just remember bits and pieces of them, but I have a vivid recollection of one dream from a few nights ago. Mom and I were arguing about the baby's name, and who to name the baby after, and the argument escalated until it ended with me telling her that she couldn't tell me what to name the baby, because she was dead and I had to name the baby after her.

Sometimes I wish I just had sex dreams like everyone else.