baby's first sugar

First birthday party in the books.

G enjoyed her first taste of sugar... a lot.

"So, what do I do with this?"

"This is AMAZING!"

As usual, we said "no gifts" and received the equivalent of a Toys R Us store. So I'll be writing thank you notes for the next several days, putting some toys in the closet for Christmas gifts, and trying to figure out where to stow away the rest (five toy rule, FIVE TOY RULE!).

one year checkup

It was a rough day for little G.

Probably tougher for mama than it was for her. 3 shots. Lots of tears. Concern over her curly toes. Mama's incessant questions about things... it was rough. So, I know we're jumping the gun a little, but Tom and I decided to get her a car. That seemed to make things better. 

consessions stand

I was a walking, pregnant cliche.

To be fair, I didn't have any friends with kids, my mother-in-law didn't remember much, and all I had to go on was pinterest, blogs, and baby books. Looking back, I was doomed. I set myself up for some pretty big letdowns. But with all the concessions, there were victories to be had. In the end---and brace yourself, because this is pretty cheese---I think it made me a better person, a better parent, and will make the next pregnancy so much easier.

So let's just see how wrong I got it, eh?

Ideal: Natural, medication-free birth

Reality: I'll have one of everything please!

I totally drank the kool aid when it came to birth plans. Heck, even having a birth plan sets you up for failure as far as pretty much every nurse is concerned. I was sold. I had a doula, I watched The Business of Being Born, I listened to meditation mp3s. I'll spare you the novel that is my birth story. Long story short: It effing hurts, drugs are good, I was wrong. Oh, I'll add one more thing: That Giselle Bundchen is full of crap. "Labor is like surfing?" Go deflate your husbands balls.

Where was I? Oh yes. An epidural, an emergency C-section, and lots of hydrocodone later, I have been humbled. But you know what? G arrived safe and happy and healthy--that was all that mattered. Frankly, looking back, it was a pride thing to be able to say what kind of birth I achieved. I'm not ashamed of anything, because I put my baby first.

Not in the picture: One seriously drugged-out mama

Verdict? Concession. 

Ideal: Breastfeeding like it's the easiest thing in the world

Reality: Confirmation that I am, in fact, a crazy person

Oh boy, where do I start? I just wish someone would have told me that breastfeeding is really effing hard. All I remember from all those books is "If it hurts, you're doing it wrong." That, I now know, is total BS. Especially when your baby has a high palate--like G. Her little British mouth not only will pretty much guarantee a lifetime of trips to the orthodontist, but it also made breastfeeding really, REALLY painful. Like, shards of glass painful, I would cry when she would wake up hungry painful, popping ibuprofen like candy painful. 3 months in I waived the white flag. But did I give her formula? Nope. I became what the internet refers to as an "exclusive pumper." This means that every three hours (yes, even at 12am, 3am, and 6am) I would pump breastmilk for G. While I'm now down to two pumps a day (every 12 hours), let's just call it: I AM TIRED. It really is three times the work, but, in the end, I'm so glad I persevered. My goal was to breastfeed G for a whole year and, frankly, I'm very proud that I achieved that. Is my sanity intact? Eh... not so sure.

Verdict? I'm calling it a win. 

Ideal: Cloth diapers and a potty-trained infant

Reality: Pampers in bulk BUT...

Yeah, not really quite sure what I was thinking with this one. I think I was more enticed by the super-cute cloth diaper covers than the environmental stewardship aspect which, to be fair, isn't really that much better given all the water/detergent it takes to wash those suckers. In the end, it was the bulkiness of the cloth diapers and, therefore, it's impact on our wardrobe choices that drew me over to the dark side of disposables. Call me shallow, I don't care, but that's the honest truth. I caved and I caved big time. 

HOWEVER... we have been pretty skilled with the infant potty training. To be fair, I have some significantly bigger time fish to fry (see above), so we've been kind of doing it part time, but I rarely have to end up changing a poop diaper. G does a pretty good job of letting me know when she needs to go and the rest is just guessing and probability. Call it luck, skill, or sheer (half-assed) dedication but it's working... I think.

Verdict? Meh, concession.

Ideal: No TV/screen time

Reality: THANK GOD for Daniel Tiger

I remember it well: Tom and I enjoying our meal at a nice restaurant, making casual conversation, only to be interrupted by a six-year-old meltdown. To appease the kid the parents quickly pull out an ipad and stick it in front of her face. The kid instantly becomes zombified--unaware of the world around her, and the parents go back to their meal. Tom and I exchange glances and say, "That will never be us."

Well.... we have since reevaluated that statement to some degree. We stand by our ideals: as little screentime as possible, read more books, listen to more music, conversations at the dinner table. But let me tell you, when there's banana on the walls, the dogs need to be fed, something is exploding in the background, and your kid is there essentially pulling down your pants trying to get you to pick her up while you're elbows deep in bottles and pump parts at the sink... you relent and you somehow hear yourself saying "Do you want to watch a few minutes of Daniel Tiger so mommy can clean up regain her sanity?"

She loves that effing tiger too, man.

Verdict? Concession for sure. 

Ideal: A clean eating, paleo, organic, worldly taste, foodie baby

Reality: "What did nana just give you? Is that a hot dog?!"

Yeah, I have a babyfood maker, what of it? Have I used it a lot... um, sure, kind of. We kind of skipped the whole puree thing and went straight to finger foods a la baby-led weaning. I have been very careful about what she eats though. Lots of organic, lots of flavors, lots of work. It's funny, as I start to cut back on the pumping I find myself dedicating all of that spare time to making whole grain, organic, no sugar, blueberry-zucchini muffins. 

She gets treats though. A baby cookie here, a pizza crust there. The other day I was too lazy to pick out the bacon pieces in a kale and bean salad so we celebrated baby's first nitrates. And yes, there was one weekend where she was with nana and my eyes caught a jar of baby hot dogs... to which nana responded "Don't worry, they're not hot dogs, they're meat sticks." 

I die.

All organic, I swear

Verdict? Despite the hot dogs, I'm going win.

Ideal: 5 toy limit

Reality: ALL THE TOYS!!! ... just kidding

So, we live in a small-ish place. We don't have a ton of room for stuff. I constantly say, "We cannot be ruled by stuff," and I mean that both in a metaphorical and literal sense. When thinking about how we want our children to be raised, Tom and I place a lot of value on thankfulness, and politeness, and creativity, and imagination. That means, essentially, not raising our kids to be spoiled brats. But, I mean, what parent really does say "I want my kid to be spoiled"?

Anyways, I digress. It is important to me that G learn to be thankful with the things she has and it is equally important that we don't start drowning in plastic crap in our tiny house. So... I decided to proclaim the "5 toy rule": G can only have 5 toys. If she wants a new toy? Well, she will have to choose one to donate. This plan was met with laughing, scoffing and major eye rolling. 

Well... we have sort of held ourselves to the rule. Sort of. In my opinion, baby toys are an exception. They're so small. So, instead of the 5 toy rule, we now have the 5 box rule and, you know what, it's working. Our living room doesn't look like a Toys R Us and G has many things to keep her distracted. As for the moral development of our child, we work on things like waiting and not being able to get everything she wants ("No, you can't play with the chandelier/knife/plant").

G playing with one of her 5 boxes of toys

Verdict? I consider it a win. 

So, by my count, I'm batting 500. Not too shabby. But what have I learned from all of this? Well, namely, that I need to loosen up. I was really (and I mean REALLY) hard on myself in the beginning. I held myself to these crazy ideals and felt like a total failure when my dream didn't become a reality. G is fine, she is surviving thriving, and I need to take care of myself too. If/when we have another, I have sworn that I'll be much more laid back and that makes the next pregnancy seem a little less daunting. This whole ordeal has also offered me the chance to be a voice of reason to my girlfriends who are now pregnant or with little ones. Having been through it I can try to reason with them.

but then again... did I listen to those people when it was me? Ha.

year one

"You waited a year to start a blog?"

Yeah, I know, I know. Most mommies would have been blogging on day one. "Here's my new baby." "Here I am breastfeeding" "Here we are in this cute matching outfit" "Here I am with makeup, blown out hair, and jeans that I didn't sleep in." ... yeah, turns out I am not that mommy.

I mean, I do care about those things. Sort of. To be honest I just didn't have the mental bandwith (as my husband calls it) to dedicate to all those things I thought I would be doing as a first-time mom. This last year has been a harsh dose of reality and humility for me. But, in a weird way, I think it's for the better.

So, here I am on day 365. Finally feeling like I have solid ground underneath me... sometimes. And I've finally started to feel like I can get my feelings, memories, and fun experiences written down so I can remember them and embarrass my child for eternity. Fun times.

So, here goes nothing.