Blog Envy

I read a lot of blogs (only some of which are linked on the sidebar). Some single mom blogs, some mom blogs, some dad blogs, some blogs that have nothing at all to do with children, some blogs that are just photography, some food blogs. I may have issues with some things about the internet, but I am and have always been a nosy chicken, so blogs are just a way for me to look into other people's windows. So to speak.

I have to be very careful, however, to just read the blogs... not to take anything in them to heart, in either direction.

I shouldn't feel superior to anyone else because of something they say that I disagree with. On the flip side, I shouldn't let other people's lives make me feel less than. Someone lives in a fabulous house with a pool? Good for them. Someone spends thirty hours a week teaching their child to (insert skill here)? Wow, that's awesome. Someone has a ginormous birthday party for their daughter and even has personalized labels on the root beer bottles? Damn, that's cool.

That last example, by the way, is for real. At the time I was still planning Elle's first birthday party, and I truly had a couple of days of completely feeling like some kind of derelict parent because I was planning a potluck picnic at a park, rather than a party with cleverly-named food, personalized party labels on the root beer, elaborate goody bags, and a pony. I truly thought, for a little while, that clearly I should not be a parent. A pony! Why the hell was I not having a pony?

(Because a pony is overkill for a one-year-old, that's why. Arguably, it may be overkill for a four-year-old, but that's not my call to make.)

So I was feeling like roadkill about how my daughter's first party was going to be crap on a stick, and I shared that particular blog entry with a friend. The friend shot me an e=mail, the gist of which was "Holy crap, that's cute. But seriously, who has that kind of time? Please."

And I felt better.

It was a really good lesson. I'm going to be the parent I'm going to be. I'm going to be better than some parents, worse than others. Richer than some, poorer than others.

It's not a contest.

But I still reserve the right to be dreadfully jealous of the gorgeous, gorgeous photography over at Peonies and Polaroids. I wish they lived just a touch closer than Scotland. Also that I could afford to have them take pics of Elle.

By the way, Elle's first birthday party was terrific. There was a huge crowd of people who love her. Everyone enjoyed all the food and the cake and the playground and the sunny day.

And not a single person asked why there weren't custom labels on the soda.

365 days, plus a few

My little Elle is now a year old. That seems completely impossible, but it's true. This time last year I had an infant and was in the throes of figuring out sleeping, eating, and bathing (for me, not the baby!) Now I have a one-year-old with chubby arms and legs, wispy curls at the end of her hair, and very, very Definite Opinions on many things. She has a mind of her own, that's for sure, and I love it.

She's still not walking, but she scoots around like a pro. I'm a little concerned that she's still not pulling up, nor can she get into a sitting position from lying down (she gets the concept, and tries hard, but can't do it without help), but her pediatrician says give it a few more weeks before we are officially worried. I know kids develop at different paces, and her overall health and disposition are so good that I try to take it easy. (Unless my parents start harping in on it and get me wound up. I try hard to not let them wind me up.) She just needs to find a compelling reason to walk, I think. Why walk when you get what you need from scooting?

Her scooting is fast enough that I've finally babyproofed and installed a good, strong gate at the top of the stairs. No more leaving her on the bed and walking away; she's moved to the floor, where she does her best to get into everything she shouldn't.

She doesn't have much of a vocabulary yet, but her receptive language seems to be on track and she babbles all the time with a wide variety of consonants (unless she's around people she doesn't know; she gets quiet then). She can identify specific toys, and when you ask her to give some love to Dolly, she'll squish Dolly to her face and love on her. She knows her own name for sure. She knows "no" and REALLY doesn't like hearing it (see above re: mind of her own)-- she'll do this little scrunchy face thing when you tell her no, which is hysterical. Several times lately I'm pretty sure she's repeated a word after I've said it; her enunciation isn't great, so for a while I thought I was imagining things. I wasn't!

She loves her Dolly. She loves stacking things and knocking them down. She adores books (that's my girl). She likes things that make noise. She turns into a zombie if the TV is on (again, that's my girl). She's fascinated with handles on drawers, and especially likes the handles that swing up and down and make a clanking noise when you pull them up and let them drop. She likes to open and shut drawers, over and over and over. She has a tendency to go after shoes to play with them, which I'm trying to discourage. She likes the swimming pool and isn't bothered by being splashed, and has even started kicking. She enjoys baths.

When she goes scooting off on one of her little adventures, she always takes a toy along with her (once, it was a mini box of Raisin Bran; clearly, she's not picky). Often, she'll take the toy, throw it out in front of her, then scoot to catch up with it. Repeat as needed. She talks to herself along the way-- she has a whole narrative going on-- and it's obvious that she has Very Important Things to Do. We just don't understand what those things are, you see.

She feeds herself, though I'm still giving her some baby food as well. She loves blueberries, bread, cheese, yogurt, bananas, graham crackers, cherries, hummous (on bread), and pasta. We're still working on finding veggies she likes outside of purees-- that's part of the reason I'm giving her baby food. It's the only way to get vegetables into her, so far. She's not big on meat, outside of purees, though she'll eat a bit. She doesn't care for peas, strawberries, or tomatoes (though she's fine with all three if they're pureed!). She'll try anything you put in front of her, though she'll always go for the cheese and blueberries first. She's OK with eggs. I'll probably also give fish sticks a shot, since those are a quick and reasonably healthy dinner.

After many years of single eating, the contents of my pantry, fridge, and freezer have undergone a radical transformation, that's for sure. And I need to remember the cardinal rule of feeding kids: the parent decides what food will be offered and when it will be offered; the child decides whether they'll eat and, if so, how much. If her dinner consists of three bites of chicken, four pieces of rotini, and two cherries... well, that's her dinner.

She uses a sippy cup, although she sometimes doesn't remember you have to tilt it up to get the actual liquid, and she'll slurp away at it looking very confused. She has no interest in holding her bottle, and we're phasing that out over the next little while anyway. I think her night bottle will probably be the last to go.

She's incredibly curious-- her head and most of her body are on a swivel when you're out in public with her. She loves people and faces and conversation, and is happiest when she's playing in the midst of a group of people talking. She's fine if they're not talking to her; she just likes the company. She doesn't miss a thing.

She is not a cuddly toddler. But then, she wasn't a cuddly baby, either; she hasn't fallen asleep on me since she was a couple of months old. When she's very tired, or doesn't feel good, she'll tuck her head down on my shoulder. Sometimes, if I ask her to give mommy a kiss, she'll press her head to mine-- she knows how to give a kiss with her mouth, but her current means of showing affection seems to be the press of the head.

She is a happy, healthy, even-tempered baby. Sorry-- she is a happy, healthy, even-tempered toddler. I am blessed beyond words with this beautiful little girl. When I'm tired, or when I (unfairly) compare her to other little ones her age and wonder why she's not doing X yet, or when I just want some alone time, I look at her face smiling at me from around a corner and realize I don't even remember what I did with my life before she was part of it.

Happy birthday, baby girl.

Still here

Apologies for my absence of late. It's not because my life is dull and I have nothing to say... more like I need to find time to say all the things.

(shoutout to Hyperbole and a Half, which if you haven't read, you totally should. Try "The God of Cake" first. Or any of her dog posts.)

Anyway, I have a post about Elle turning one. But it's on my work computer. I promise to track it down and post it Monday. Or possibly Tuesday.

FYI, Elle is now one whole year old. There's too much to say about that, truly, so I'll just say it and then toddle off to bed. See y'all next week.

Practically Perfect

It was one of those weekends where (almost) everything comes together well-- time with Elle, time to myself, time with good friends. The few bumps in the road were minor and not really a problem.

I even got out the invites for Elle's first birthday bash.

Yup. Her first birthday. I'm not entirely sure when that happened. It's amazing to me how quickly it has gone, and continues to go. It is also, to be honest, terrifying-- if the next 17 years go this quickly, she's going to be in college (hopefully) in about a week and a half. Or at least it will feel that way.

When we're having a rough patch, I remind myself of this. It won't last. It isn't forever. I have her with me for such a very short time, in the scheme of things; I need to savor every moment. Even the rough ones.

Here. Have a baby foot picture. I'm not exactly a great photographer, but baby feet are darling no matter what. And they fit right in with "No way am I showing my daughter's face in public, thanks" mantra.

From ...plus one

She's pretty cute, for an old almost one-year-old. I think I'll keep her.

Go ahead. You can tell me I'm crazy.

One of the things I try hard not to regret is that I waited so long to start trying to become a mom. It doesn't do any good to regret it-- I wasn't ready for a hundred reasons. And if I'd started earlier, I wouldn't have Elle, and clearly Elle was meant to be here.

But sometimes, regret breaks through. It's doing so now because, had I done this sooner (and presumably had similar luck in terms of conception), there would be some chance of being able to have another child.

I know! The very thought is crazy. Insane. But with Elle nearly a year old, the knowledge that she is an only child with a practically nonexistent family feels like a weight on my chest. It's not news, of course, but I can still wish it was different.

Of course, it's impossible. At my next birthday I'll be 45; conceiving Elle at 43 was a miracle in itself. Even if I wanted to give it a shot, I no longer have the insurance coverage that made my IVF possible. And if by some miracle I had another child, the daycare costs would kill me. (Not to mention I have no desire to ever be pregnant again.)

If I had embryos on ice, I just might say what the hell and give it a shot-- why not try a FET, if you've got them? But I don't. I was on massive quantities of drugs and only produced five eggs, and all four that fertilized were transferred. One of them is my beautiful Elle; there were no spares. That's probably a good indication that now, getting on to two years later, the likelihood of viable eggs is pretty low.

So I have all these rational reasons why it's just not possible. Right now, though, there's a part of me that doesn't care.

I guess I'm just mourning the possibilities.

Oh, FFS

Why the hell am I still subscribed to anything from babycenter.com? (And no, I'm not mangling the name, because if anyone wants to find this post through Google, they're welcome to do so.)

Seriously, why?

Last Friday's email header was something like "Are other parents just like you?"

Let me parse that one. In detail.

1. Jeebus, I hope not.
2. What?
3. Are all parents supposed to be exactly alike?
4. If all parents are supposed to be exactly alike, why didn't anyone tell me this before now? Man, I'm way behind.
5. If I'm "different," what does that mean? Is my daughter doomed to be a serial ax murderer, rampaging through the country slaughtering innocents?

Seriously. "Are other parents just like you?" Are they kidding? Are they morons? I'm guessing the answers to those questions are "No" and "Yes."

This is not the first e-mail I've gotten from them that has a subject line that makes me scratch my head. And I know perfectly well the e-mails are crafted to get you to click through to their website, where they can count you as a visit and sell more ads.

But trying to generate ad revenue through parental competition is crazy. Why not generate visits through interesting, thought-provoking topics? I'm far more likely to click through to find out something new, interesting, or informative than I am to click through to find ways to worry that I'm screwing up at mothering my child.

Isn't there enough competition already? It seems never-ending, sometimes. My baby did thus-and-so at X months. I only feed organic, and I make every bite of food my baby consumes. I even grind the wheat myself! I read to my baby for seven hours a day. I have thrown out all the televisions in my home. I sew all my baby's clothes from sustainably grown organic cotton fabric that I hand-loomed and wove. I've never even thought about using crib bumpers/letting my child sleep in a swing/using a binky/insert whatever here.

Seriously, we don't need help from babycenter.com. Most of us beat ourselves up quite enough already, thanks.

I am a judgmental person, no doubt about it. But I have become much less judgmental since becoming a mom, because when it boils down to it, whatever is legal and safe and works for you and your family is absolutely fine by me. Binkys? Go for it, if that's what works for your baby. Your 16-month-old still wants her bottle? I am not going to lecture you on that one.

It all works itself out in the end, most of the time.

Until then, babycenter.com: shut up.

You can't really say "Happy Memorial Day," so I'll just say that if you're a US-ian, I hope you had a good holiday, and spent at least a moment remembering those who have died in our defense.

**

So many new things lately-- we have clapping, a couple of (inconsistently used) words, feeding herself (as long as it's not cold, wet, slimy, or any combination thereof), and she will now pull herself up to a sitting position by holding on to your hand(s). It's just a matter of time until she figures out she can pull herself up on inanimate objects.

Still no crawling or walking, and little interest in standing, but I did get her evaluated (yeah, I'm paranoid) and the therapist wasn't particularly worried. She thinks it's more a function of lack of interest than it is a physical issue. Given that Elle is a little late on every curve, no one's particularly concerned yet. I keep working with her, and am pretty sure I'll soon regret the day I wished she was mobile.

**

We went to our first parade on Memorial Day. It was a gorgeous day, and we found a spot of shade to settle in on a beach towel, with sippy cups and Cheeri0s.

It was a big, big hit. Anything with lots of people and music and noise? Sign Elle right up. I was a little worried about the sirens from the police and fire vehicles, but she didn't even blink. She adored the marching bands (she booty-danced along with them), clapped occasionally, chewed on a paper fan that one of the floats threw out, and waved a little flag with more skill and enthusiasm than I expected. (And she didn't try to eat the flag, so that's a definite win.) She's so social and, frankly, nosy that this was an event practically tailored to her interests.

When you think of it, parades are really meant for the kids, and my kid was a happy target audience.

**

My parents were in town for the holiday, which was nice for a number of reasons. Elle loves the company, and I like the flexibility to be able to do things without having to worry quite as much about what I'll do with the baby. I even got to go to a barbecue-- which was fun, but honestly? I missed Elle.

I know! Time to do grown-up stuff like drink delicious gin and tonics and munch on spicy guac, and I kind of wished I could go home and play with Elle instead. (I did get home in time to take her for a nice walk.)

There's been a bit of a dust-up on one of my single mom discussion lists relative to messages on how tiring it is to be a single parent. And it is. It's exhausting. It's terrifying most of the time, too, even if you have a baby without any major sleeping/feeding issues. I'm sure it's terrifying in entirely different ways as the child(ren) get older. (The dust-up, FYI, is someone essentially accusing someone else of lying because she sounds remarkably productive. I don't think the productive person is a liar; I am just flat-out envious.)

Women who are considering becoming single parents ("thinkers") will often analyze information with great intensity. I was one of those women-- I went through the numbers and the information and read, carefully, information on women who'd become single moms and how they were handling it. I don't think anyone (at least not anyone that I paid attention to) said anything other than how it is hard.

They also said that it was the hardest, best thing they'd ever done.

I don't know. Regardless of your status (single or partnered), there's just no way to know how it is to be a parent until you're actually a parent. No amount of research can possibly help you understand how it feels to be up at three in the morning with an infant who has been screaming since, seemingly, the dawn of time. No Excel spreadsheet can quantify how it feels the first time your child presses an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek.

To some degree, you just have to do it or not do it. Leap or not. Yeah, it's going to suck sometimes. It IS tiring. It's scary as hell. Regardless of what you choose, you'll probably have second thoughts, and that's fine too.

If you become a parent, one day you'll realize you don't really remember what your life looked like before that child entered your world. And your gin and tonic will be delicious, but you'll want to be somewhere else. And that? That's your life, now.