Independence Day...Late

Its no big shocker that I'm a tardy blog poster. But as Dave reminded me, writing this blog has been something I like to do in my spare time...and none of my time has been spare lately. Its summertime and the livin' may be easy, but its also BUSY (easy and busy are probably mutually exclusive, but I don't have time to quibble). The island is hopping, the weather is beautiful (finally), and we've been nonstop since Father's Day. The good news is I've been dutifully recording every magic moment.

Dave's family was in town, leading to several adorable cousin encounters, as well as the discovery that tree trunk baby thighs and Stay-Puf marshmallow feet are genetic gifts bestowed on both Emerson and Max.



With some reservation, we took Max to the island parade and fireworks. Its not that I was worried he'd be scared, it was more that the fireworks started at 9:00, two full hours past baby bedtime. What sort of overtired twitching screaming monster would this parenting decision result in? I was semi-convinced he'd become the ultimate baby sleep
horror story: day/night confused.

In typical Max fashion, he surprised me with his adaptability. He loved the parade, waving his little flag with patriotic fervor. He fell asleep right before the big bang began and slept through half of them (without a TWITCH. This from the child who wakes from a dead sleep when we try to lower him 2 feet into his Pack-N-Play.) He was mostly awestruck upon waking, but held tightly to my arm, made a few worried "mmmmmmm"s, and squinted a lot.





Even after getting to bed past 11:00, Max still seems to know the difference between night and day. Clearly he's got my brains.

Daddy-O

Happy Father's Day!

Life's A Beach

We went to Schoolhouse Beach today for the first of what will be many days enjoying the sun, water...and rocks. That's right, for those of you who aren't familiar, Schoolhouse is a stone beach. White stones line the shore, making for a pretty view, but it does require some creative maneuvering (and lots of blankets) to comfortably sunbathe. It was a beautiful day.






Max had watermelon for the first time and loved it. Its the first food he's actually taken bites out of and swallowed.





Per usual, I brought a bucket full of toys which sat ignored while he played with (and attempted to eat) the rocks. Silly mother.

Dear Max

You are 6 months old. In that short (endless) time I think we've done alright. You are almost triple your birth weight and your brain is growing at an alarming rate based on the size of your head. We finally have a semblance of a schedule and you nap for longer than 30 minutes (with only a teeny bit of help from me). You sit up by yourself, roll over (front to back), smile at strangers, emit a variety of sounds other than crying (baa, gaa, shrieking, shouting, and the most annoying bleating/whining noise I can only think means "please Mama, leave me on the side of a mountain.")

I live for your belly laughs, toothless grins and curly little toes. (They were peeking at me while you were napping the other day, just begging to be eaten. You don't know how close you came to being footless.) You're working on your first tooth-I can see the pointy little edges pushing through your gums. You're being pretty brave about it, but I know it hurts you sometimes (see aforementioned bleating/whining noise). You've started crying when I leave your sight, a development that makes the baby jail walls close in around me and my heart expand to bursting all at once.

I love watching you try to figure things out, your little eyebrows scrunching as you realize, "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, my toy is UNDER the blanket!". You don't really like (ie: scream bloody murder) getting your diaper changed lately, something that is profoundly annoying considering its something we need to do for awhile. I want you to sleep a little longer at night, but never want our early morning snuggle sessions to end.

You have turned me into every motherhood cliche. I can barely remember what my life was like without you, the time is going too fast, yoga pants and a ponytail IS appropriate for everyday wear, the idea of an afternoon to myself leaves me reeling with the possibilities, I struggle to find topics of conversation other than you, and taking care of you is the hardest job I've ever done.

You are my heart, little boy, out in the world and I love you.

Ketchup

I've really fallen behind in the blogging department this month. Its a lot like what happens when you go too long between talking to an old dear friend. So much happens, and the more time passes, the more daunting playing catch-up becomes. Suddenly years have gone by and you're being invited to the friend's kid's wedding and you're all, "where does the time go?" So before that happens and I find myself at my blog's kid's wedding, here's where time has gone in May:

Max sits up all on his own for long periods of time, happily playing with his current favorite toys-a Playskool bus and an empty box. No end to the delights of watching me put little toys in the box so he can dump them out. No. End.

We just got back from a trip to Madison for a good friend's wedding. It was beautiful. My mom met us and hung out with Max (introducing him to State Street and a homeless Vietnam vet named Stick who is apparently Max's new bff) while Dave and I got dressed up and had a fantastic time. I think it was a first for me since Max was born in several ways. I had my first hangover, first time being called a MILF (in front of my husband who responded by fist-pumping) and my first night out where I didn't anxiously obsess over what my child was doing without me.





Max started solids and I started working. I'm renting a chair at a salon and loving it. I got to make my own brochures, pricing, hours etc. Its exciting to be self-employed and also nice to get out of the house and develop an island identity apart from Max's mom and Dave's wife. It was while I was at work one Saturday morning that Daddy decided to give Max cereal. Without me! I wasn't mad...just surprised. A good time was had by all and I think it was a good "first" for Dave to have with his son. Since then, we've been following the Baby Led Weaning approach (I kind of hate that every single parenting decision has a capitalized title. Why can't it just be "giving my kid the same food we eat, including him in our mealtimes and letting him play with textures and tastes until he figures out what he likes and doesn't like and how much he wants to eat, all while continuing to nurse him on demand as his main source of nutrition until at he's at least one year old"?) So far its messy and interesting. Not really any food makes it into his mouth. He's just experimenting right now...however, he seems to like bell peppers, seaweed and tamari rice cakes (I know. What?), and what he had for breakfast this morning-Cheerios, plain yogurt and breastmilk all smooshed together.



And finally...Max is learning to drive!

Mothers

There are three people I've been thinking about the last few days, with my first Mother's Day being this weekend...

To my mother-in-law, for the nights of sleeping on a nursery floor, lunch breaks expressing milk in your car, working around catnaps, chasing a toddler dashing for the road, comforting night terrors, and the million other things you did to shape the man I love, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your son is kind, fair, honest, sensitive, loyal, supportive, funny, smart, patient and a wonderful father and husband. I think about how lucky I am to have him in my life every day.

To my mom, I'm just beginning to realize how impossible it is to thank you for everything. How one day a year dedicated to mom is kind of hilarious considering the blood, sweat and tears (very literally) poured into raising a child. And I've only been at it for five months! Its humbling to realize, as I'm peeling poo-filled socks off my child's feet, someone once did the same for me. I was a tiny, helpless black hole of needs and demands, a wee tyrant who screamed bloody murder (and that's not even covering my teen years), and you unfailingly and lovingly gave and gave and gave, over and over and over. You still do. I'm sorry it took 31 years for me to realize the debt of gratitude I owe you...I don't think I could realize it until I became a mother myself...

Which brings me to my little son...you are a sweet, funny, cuddly handful who is teaching me things every day. So far, lessons include: live in the moment as much as possible. Don't set myself up for disappointment by thinking too far ahead. This too shall pass. Three sleepless nights of being a human pacifier does not mean I'll never sleep again. Temporarily turning off the mom-brain takes exactly two and a half beers or twenty laps in the rec center pool. Coffee is the nectar of life. Grunting and straining ALWAYS means poo. ALWAYS. (Do not ignore this or your husband will end up trying to shove your down comforter into the washing machine at 7 p.m.) I need other people. Ask for help. Breathing a sigh of relief when I leave the house to go work for a few hours does not make me a bad mom. Adapt. Trust my gut. Don't Google. Listen to my baby. And every day is a gift.

Oh, and a wonderful weekend with my little family makes me a very sappy mommy indeed.

Happy Mother's Day!

For Your Viewing Pleasure

I know Dave's not ripping paper, but I think this deserves to go viral.