Monday, September 28, 2015

Ander's Third Month

Any other moms have to peruse their Instagram to get a reminder of what even happened the last month because you were too not-on-top-of-your-game to draft little bits for the blog post as they happened? Yeah, me too.

During Andy's third month of this earthly life, we firstly had his baby blessing! We opted to have it done at home and invited mostly family and a few dear, close friends. Mark was slightly more than jittery and anxious, but did a beautiful job and returned the sweet babe right back to me when he was done and I just snuggled him and paraded him around the room in his mightily dapper get-up.

I kept expecting him to break out into
a rousing rendition of
"Seize the Day"

We spent a good minute trying to get a smile from Andy as he sat on my 97 year old grandmother's knee. She's such a good sport to allow that hefty baby to crush her poor little lap. Although, there aren't many stronger women than my Grandma Pearl.

We finally braved the perils of painting with baby hands and headed to As You Wish with our best buds Allie and Izzy. One of the workers was kind enough to offer their helping hand and I honestly don't think we could have done it without them. He was slightly groggy from his nap but definitely wanted to clench his hand around the gloopy paint instead of splay his fingers properly. Then of course proceeded to stuff his smurfy fist in his mouth and try to poison himself.

I took the quote from a favorite Owl City number, "Honey and the Bee" if you'd like a listen. It's adorable and lovely and gives me the honey-glows (pun-ish intended).

We've started walking to the Riverview Park more often and jogging around the beautiful scenery. We had most of the entire park to ourselves and the overcast morning and slight drizzle made for a very refreshed and happy momma.
And then, in true Arizona fashion, the weather boiled up into the hundreds again and we haven't left the house unless direly necessary. So boo.

Every Tuesday we give Daddy a quiet, empty house for the evening and hang out at Grandma and Grandpa Andersen's. Grandma gets to walk the baby around while Mommy and Grandpa do the weekly ad crossword puzzle. This particular Tuesday sported a fantastic light-show in the form of a powerful rainstorm, so we snuggled and took in the rain smell on the back porch. Aunt Tasha was kind enough to act as photographer.

Speaking of which, naturally, it was time for another glam photo sesh!

Our good friend, Haley, brought this stinkin' adorable crocheted rabbit outfit to the baby shower and I had visions of rotund baby bellies and napping angels for weeks. During our multitude of moves this summer I, for a panicked moment, thought perhaps it was lost and that we wouldn't be able to find it before he outstretched the knitted fabric, but we caught it just in the nick of time!
Although, I had planned to use the rabbit "costume" for his four month October pictures, since then it would be so close to Halloween, but it definitely ain't making it a whole 'nother month.

Appreciate how hard I (we) had to work for 
these good photos.

And finally, I have no pictures to document the occasion, but on the eve of his third month "birthday"/anniversary/meh? we took him out to my parents, dropped him off and said buh-bye for the next twelve hours or so. Andy had his first sleepover and it went beautifully! Everyone was happy the next morning and no one was dead, so we're calling it a resounding success.
Mark and I utilized the free evening in true, boring, adult fashion. We got sushi to-go, went home and watched a Studio Ghibli, played video games, had fun-times and slept. It was glorious and exactly the reprieve we both needed to rejuvenate our parenting wells. We were running a little dry there, for a spell.

I'm actually beginning to feel like my baby is aging. For the longest time, everyone would comment, "He looks so grown up! He's gotten so big! My, how he's changed!" and I would just look at him and shrug because I could swear he looked exactly as he had when they handed him to me in the hospital. We've always said, "He was born three months old."
Well, now that he actually is three months, we've caught up and all of a sudden I look at the photos of him now next to our hospital pictures and get a little panicky because oh my gosh I have a toddler. My baby looks like a little boy and it's scary.
Luckily, he's playing the lazy chubster card and procrastinating on the rolling over, sitting up, and crawling milestones so my panic is generally unfounded.

Babes, you're my little nutcase.
I love the way you grip my fingers like you'll never let go when I'm feeding you your bottle, and I love to stare at your beautiful, long eyelashes (which you definitely got from your lucky father who doesn't appreciate his enough) while you guzzle.
I love your roll-y thighs and big belly.
I love your grins that you so freely give, but I also love your stern faces and srsbsns moods.
I may not exactly love your newfound voice and the realization that you are, in fact, in control of the volume and so currently you have it set to "banshee screech" whether you're happy, sad, angry, or usually just confused, but it occasionally makes me laugh. Perhaps you'll be a broadway belter once you can start singing and momma can accompany you.
You love your puppies, and any other animals that happen to cross your field of vision. You love bright colors and natural sunlight. You gaze happily at the array of books nestled in your room, so I'm hoping you'll be a bookworm just like momma.
You're wonderful and I love you so, Andy.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Little Big Thoughts

As obvious as it may be, my journaling has been a whole lot of nonexistent lately. Thankfully, my dear friend Allora gave me probably one of my favorite gifts from my baby shower in the form of Mom's One Line a Day.
This tiny pink book has been the lifesaver to my journal efforts. The small entry blocks save me from feeling daunted by a huge empty book and also encourage me to choose my words carefully. I have to ruminate back on my day and prioritize what I want to record.
A few days ago, I scrawled a comment that hasn't left my brain and I thought I'd share here.
I won't quote directly (mostly cuz it's in the other room by my bed and I wanna blast this post out before baby wakes), but the general idea was my gratitude to Motherhood and it's effect on my psychological well-being. Granted, it's left me a bit of a mess as well, but if parenthood has given me anything, it's a blessedly blase attitude about others' opinions.
Side-eye at the store for the stained sweats and third-or-fourth-day hair? Meh.
Formula fed? Really? Yup. Really.
Dirty dishes in the sink? Laundry piled up? Sticky floors? Avert thine eyes, cuz that's what I'm doing.
Don't get me wrong, I still think about it and remind myself, "Ah, gotta do that!" Blips of guilt flit through my mind when I see someone doing a seemingly "better" job than me. But no longer are the days where I cry in the shower because of some supermom's instagram post with the homemade cake and DIY laundry detergent and flawsome hair and pristine clothes and cute cozy home #straightouttapinterest. And honestly it's because I'm crying in the shower from being unable to help my baby instead. If I can't find a minute to feed myself, I'm certainly not setting aside any minutes to compare myself and dwell on it. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Because the honest to goodness truth is that I'm doing the very best that I can.
Motherhood has been so different than what I expected. I thought I would be overcome with this glowing, bubbly, shiny kind of love that just burst from every cell and I wouldn't be able to contain it. I thought I would be one of those mothers with the rainbow unicorn instagram captions.
But I literally cannot find the words to describe the love I feel for this kid.
It's hard.
It's so very, very hard.
Being a parent is, truthfully, pretty sucky.
We brought our little potato spud home and I didn't feel glowy. I didn't feel like a little burning sun of love and happiness. I felt tired, and worn to the core, and a little like I made a mistake. Glimmering moments of true joy saved me, and it's only recently that I'm finally feeling like perhaps maybe me and this munch-nugget can actually be buds.
I didn't recognize the love. When compared with the ideals I had gleaned from the comments of others, it seemed that I had a missing piece. But there's no question that I love him. I would not hesitate to put his life before mine. Fixing his hurt and being the cause of his smiles or breathy giggles feeds my very soul. My struggle has been more with finding out who I am as a mother and what changes it has wrought in me rather than loving him or not.

I don't have a solid reason for sharing this. And I don't have time to care about whether or not you'll enjoy it or think it's crap. My "care" meter is maxed out from being preoccupied by the cutest, snuggiest, loviest love-bug in my life. #sorrynotsorry