A Serious Interview with my 14-Week-Old Baby

Reporter: So, Lila, we hear things have been a real whirlwind lately–what, with starting daycare and the introduction of a humidifier to your nursery. Tell us, how are you staying sane amid all this chaos?

Lila: Well, it hasn’t been easy, I can tell you that much. Daycare requires me to wake up AND be mildly presentable at an ungodly hour, five days a week. And my glorious feeding-on-demand days seem to have transformed into an absurd sequence I’ve heard the tall people refer to as a “schedule.” The humidifier? It helps with my boogers, but I’m wary of the glow it casts across my room at night.

Reporter: With cooler temps across the country, how are you feeling about your wardrobe?

Lila: Ooh, you know me, I love a range of options. But who am I kidding…I throw up on everything I wear, so my preference is for absorbent fabrics like cotton. I’ve also recently begun to wear “pants” — they’re snuggly, which I love, but prolong diaper changes which makes me question their usefulness. Oh! I almost forgot about bibs. LOVE them. It’s like a fun superhero cape that also catches spit up.

Reporter: Any recent milestones you’re comfortable sharing?

Lila: I mean this in the most humble way possible, but I’ve become kind of a badass when it comes to keeping a paci in my mouth. I’ve also been experimenting with actually keeping my socks on for more than a few minutes at a time before kicking them off.

Reporter: Our real estate fans will want to know, how are you enjoying your Pack N Play?

Lila: (Laughs) That thing? It’s alright I guess. My parents are convinced it’s this miraculous haven for me, but the joke’s on them…I only tolerate it because I can see the tv from one angle. I’d be just as happy in a cardboard box as long as someone swaddled me.

Reporter: Any special recipes you’ll be testing this Thanksgiving?

Lila: I’m fairly jazzed about a pumpkin-spice flavor of formula I’ve heard about. My only experience with a pumpkin thus far was when my parents propped me up next to one for a Halloween photo (MAN, did I scream!), so this seems like a better option.

Reporter: What trends do you predict will be big among babies in 2015?

Lila: Pastel onesies. Hooded bath towels. Brunch.

Reporter: One last question: what’s something no one knows about you?

Lila: (Grins) I poop in the tub.

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Cruising.

My first car was a 1988 Volvo. Lots of character, not a lot of bells and whistles. In some countries it could’ve been considered a military tank.

I was shamelessly jealous of friends with new Honda Civics or Ford Explorers and all the fancy features these vehicles boasted. Related: in high school, your self worth is defined by the STUPIDEST things.

Years later when I got my first new car, I was fascinated by all its modern awesomeness, and particularly floored by cruise control.

You push this button and the car drives itself?

What.

Ok so not really, but the whole notion of this functionality screamed luxury to me. It made things so easy. What isn’t appealing about coasting? Even the word is fun. Cooooaaaasssttinggg.

But I quickly realized the problem with cruise control — it was almost always impractical — at least for my lifestyle. There was rarely a situation where it made sense or was safe — there were too many obstacles and traffic always got in the way. I hardly ever used it, despite its early appeal, because it was impossible.

And on the rare occasions I did use it, I would completely zone out. Bad. You know you’ve done it. You wind up at a destination and have no idea how you got there.

I started thinking about this a few days ago because life has been hard lately. Not terrible-hard, but HARD.

Whenever I enter a challenging season, my natural tendency is to immediately panic and seek a way out…like dogs when they realize they’re en route to the vet. I feel like I’m failing when things are messy and misaligned, and am convinced that the world is ending and I’m a failure for various illogical reasons. I’ll start to equate happiness to easiness. Dumb.

I’m finally starting to get that things are rarely going to be easy. If ever. Maybe never! There’s a lot of hard stuff, and not always a lot of fun, but the whole mess of it weaves together to be your unique life. And that’s amazing.

There’s no cruise control option for life — and if there was — we’d zone out miss all the good stuff.

Instead of freaking out every time things derail from my maniacal vision of how life “should” be, I wish I was better at embracing hard times for what they are, letting myself feel and process without a self-imposed agenda.

Cruise control isn’t practical for cars or for life. If you switch on autopilot, you lose sight of the journey. Obstacles aren’t necessarily things to overcome and forget; they’re essential to our lives because they allow us to understand joy.

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Late-Night Feedings Taught me Ninja Skills

I knew there’d be plenty of surprises that accompanied becoming a mom. Everyone tried to prepare me for how hard things would be as I adjusted, particularly given the fact that I wouldn’t be sleeping. Yet I had NO IDEA what to expect in terms of fatigue. I guess it’s hard to truly process what it means to stop sleeping until you experience it firsthand. But it turns out babies like to eat, a lot, and with zero regard for what time it is or if their parents are becoming blurry-eyed, emotional lunatics.

In the 12 weeks since our daughter was born, I’ve spent more time awake at odd hours of the night than I ever imagined possible. I’ve become an expert at navigating my house in a half-conscious stupor, preparing bottles with one hand and deftly swaddling in the dark. I’ve learned to function on so little sleep I sometimes wonder if I’ve morphed into some kind of insomniac superhuman.

Along the way, amid the utter mayhem of not sleeping, I’ve gained a few essential parenting ninja skills:

1. Night vision: I can now successfully travel across my house without opening my eyes. I’m like a Roomba, gently knocking into walls and furniture as I find my way to the nursery. I’m sometimes startled to wake up during daylight hours because I’ve grown so accustomed to functioning in darkness.

2. Acrobatic foot dexterity: Having a baby means your hands are always full. To compensate, I’ve become an ape-like master of foot control. I can pick up small items, open drawers and turn on the night light with my toes. I’ve tossed laundry into a hamper and even spread a blanket out with my feet. Could this become an Olympic event? Likely not, but it’s wildly entertaining and helpful.

3. Bionic arm strength: If someone challenged me to hold a 12-pound dumb bell in a static bicep curl for 15 hours a day, I’d laugh rudely. But then I had a baby who didn’t like to be put down, and so I held her. All day. Every day. And for a while I was physically unable to straighten my arms. Now that she’s adjusted a bit, it’s become an amazing way to work out without actually having to workout.

4. Bouncy wobble walking: I don’t want to brag, but I’ve developed a pretty unique wobble walk that lulls even the most fussy of babies into a peaceful slumber. I may look like I belong on a middle school dance floor, swaying awkwardly to the melodies of Boyz II Men and K-Ci and JoJo, but believe you me this is one magic saunter. This is an especially breathtaking maneuver when partnered with # 2 (think: Elaine Benes at a company party).

5. Ruthless adaptability (also known as shameless lack of dignity): Sleep on the floor using your baby’s hooded towel as a blanket? Sure. Trudge back to bed at 4 a.m. covered in spit up? It’s ok. Forget the last time you flossed? It happens. These seemingly disgraceful transgressions are totally acceptable — heck, they’re encouraged — while parenting an infant. Just use caution when sharing these achievements with non-parents, as the reactions are somewhat offensive.

6. Emotional Ambivalence: I think that when you become a parent you become a bit of a crazy person. This is best demonstrated by a newfound ability to use laughing and crying interchangeably. There are actually a surprising number of situations where laughing and/or crying hysterically can be appropriate responses, like waiting in line at the post office with a crying infant, or trying to cook dinner while wearing your baby. I’m going to have to monitor this one closely as I return to work because it won’t translate well on conference calls.

I’m eager to see what additional powers I’ll acquire on this crazy road called motherhood. I wouldn’t mind returning to a normal sleep schedule one day, but until then, I’m opting to push through the haze and embrace these moments. It’s not so much looking at things through rose-colored glasses as it is genuinely special to share every possible minute with my baby. Even if it’s at 3 a.m., and even when I’m covered in baby puke.

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It’s strange, isn’t it

“It’s strange, isn’t it, how you never know you’re living the best time of your life at the moment you’re living it? If you could appreciate, at that instant, that this is it, maybe you’d make certain your mind imprinted every detail of the sights, smells, sounds and sensations. Then again, maybe knowing that life will only get duller, sadder, less hopeful afterward would inject melancholy into that moment. You’d miss life’s peak experience by mourning it before it passes. So perhaps, it’s best not to know.” -Anita Bartholomew

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a maternity leave confession

I’ve watched 112 episodes of Parks and Recreation over the past few weeks. That’s six complete seasons. Because maternity leave provides a unique opportunity to binge watch NetFlix, on your iPhone, in a dark nursery, while feeding/changing/rocking/dressing a baby every two or three hours.

This show is like the offspring of 30 Rock and Seinfeld, after being raised in the county government office I worked in after college.

Yes, I worked for the county government after college–it was an absurd interesting career launchpad for a 21 year old.

I feel qualified to confirm that this show portrays EXACTLY what government work is like, only it’s slightly less funny and with fewer hunting trips. And there was no Chris Pratt.

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Life.

“For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin — real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.”  –Fr. Alfred D’Souza

Life Explained

…Another post written in total darkness in the nursery, a baby FINALLY asleep in my lap after defying slumber all day. The irony in how badly she doesn’t want to sleep, and how badly I do want to sleep, is not lost. I’m told I was a very calm baby, so I’m not sure why karma felt the need to punk us…

I can hardly concentrate on typing because the sound machine app on my phone is blasting soothing rain sounds at max volume. This is not soothing to me…it sounds like I’m sitting in a typhoon…but it creates baby zen. Whatever it takes, right? Jim brought me a glass of wine a few minutes ago so I’m fairly content although unable to move an inch without awakening the beast.

Yes, the (adorable) beast is my daughter.

Moments like this make me so grateful for smartphones and social media. Most days I feel confined to the nursery in endless attempts to woo this munchkin to sleep, and it’s isolating. And mind numbing. My phone provides an outlet and a way to connect with friends and family while stationary and silent. It’s also how I keep my brain cells alive, reading and playing games when I need a way to stay awake.

Since Lila was born I’ve thought more and more about what it means to be present and mindful. Babies have a way of forcing you into the present, no matter what you’d rather be doing or thinking about. This is something I’ve always struggled with. Being here, in the moment. It’s scary for me to have to abandon all the things I want to be doing and paying attention to and I feel a little lost at times, but it’s also exhilarating to suddenly realize I don’t know what day or time it is, and that it doesn’t even matter. I’m taking this experience one day at a time — hell, one second at a time — and I think it’s a valuable experience, even though it’s painful. All my tendencies to plan and control are evaporating into hilarious memories and I’m learning to focus on what’s in front of me.

My last blog post generated an overwhelming amount of support and advice that was so meaningful and appreciated. Thank you to everyone for your sympathy, suggestions and offers to help. It’s reassuring to know others have navigated this path before me and survived!

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