Lately, I've been complaining. Way too much. Though there will always be things to complain about (I could write a diatribe on the idiotic pedestrians in this town), there are sure a lot of wonderful things in my life, too. Since I missed the holiday (shucks, I was in the Bahamas), it's about time I was thankful for something.
So here goes. This is what I've been thinking about lately. And I'm ever so thankful.
The vacation was wonderful. She was a charmer. We got home, after the flight home from hell, and still she was an angel, though she was tired. Smiling, laughing, trying to entertain me. She'd catch my eye and give me a big, gummy grin. Bouncing away in her jumperoo, she played happily while I waded through mountains of laundry.
Then came today.
She shrieks and complains from dawn to dusk, and beyond. No naps. Screaming, twisting, writhing, crying. Tylenol gives me 20 minutes of respite, that's it. Her lower lip is red, and she sucks on it constantly. She bites me. And then tries to swallow the entire boob.
She coughs, gagging, and then tries to shove her fist further down her throat. Her attention span has shortened to 4 seconds. She sleeps only in the car when "Baba O'Reilly" is cranked, loud. Then the radio DJ changes to some drippy light rock crap and she wakes up wailing. She's not happy sitting, lying down, being held, standing, rocking, in the jumperoo, in the carseat, in the stroller, anywhere. I've tried the orajel, the cool teething rings, Sophie la Girafe, sucking on a rag, everything. There's just no way to make her happy. She's hurting. (So am I.)
Her dad has had a lot of late meetings and events, so Mom has been going it solo. Thank heavens for red wine.
And chocolate.
Did I mention brownies?
PS. Ice cream. I forgot the ice cream. Who needs meals?
PPS. She finally passed out as I wrote this. Hallelujah. I need a refill.
The Bahamas was wonderful. I had a fabulous time with my family. We swam, walked on the beach, wore lovely sundresses and sandals and left our jackets in the closet, enjoyed the beautiful wedding, ate way too much, I read a completely fluffy novel while Rowan napped, and I even snorkeled on a coral reef in the middle of the ocean. It was unbelievable! I didn't want to leave, but after grabbing a few quick souvenirs, the driver loaded my bags and I jumped on the shuttle for the airport.
Then the nightmare started.
3 different lines of security at the Nassau airport (the shoes off, computer out, whole bit, which is no fun once with a stroller and carseat and infant, much less three times), a zillion people all leaving at the same time (=long lines, very hot airport, few chairs), no lunch, a rough flight, then 4 hours of layover in Atlanta that became 7 hours when things were delayed over and over again, computer screens at the airport that stopped working (thus 8 thousand loud announcements = zero naps for Rowan), a billion zillion trillion people in Atlanta, 3 gate changes, a crying, tired, fussy baby, way too much stuff, not enough diapers, repeated announcements begging 4 people to leave the plane because we were "overweight" (I would have taken the deal they offered if they had thrown in a case of diapers and a toothbrush), lots of turbulence, worries because no one took their deal (would we plummet to the ground because of our weight problem?) and we finally landed in State College around 11:30 PM. And it was raining, and very cold. And we have no jetways. (The pilot himself carried my bag, and the flight attendant covered Rowan with a blanket so I could walk down the plane stairs and run across the tarmac.)
Luckily, I had 6 "surrogate grandparents" who helped me in Nassau and Atlanta and State College. I don't know what I would have done without their willing arms to rock the baby and help me carry the stroller and carseat, which had to be gate checked in Atlanta.
Then, this morning I went to boot up my computer to post a cute pic of Rowan in her bikini on the beach for you and lo and behold, it won't boot.
AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Back to reality. Sigh.
PS: I have a doctor's appointment today, so don't expect quick responses if you emailed me. I got lucky because Dr. B left his laptop at home, but when I get showered and get home from the doc's office (just routine getting-to-know-you, so I don't have to go to the ER for a headache), I have a boatload of laundry to do. Or should I say a planeload?
So we're ready. The bags are packed, and way too heavy. Her bikinis, my capris, sunscreen and hats--we're prepared not only for our 5 day trip, but for a season in the Bahamas.
So while you're choking down dry turkey and washing it down with wine, I'll be wandering around the Atlanta airport for hours and hours, on my way to the Bahamas, with the baby.
Wish me luck. I agreed to sing at the wedding. (Gulp.)
It seems to be going 'round the internet--no one is in the mood to post. Well, me neither. But in the interest of being a whiney brat, I do have some excuses. OK, way too many excuses. So, in no particular order...
*One week from tomorrow Rowan and I are flying to the Bahamas for my sister's and Josh's wedding. Been busy buying and gathering stuff for that. I have my dress, it's altered, got the Super Sucker 3000 to wear under it, got jewelry, shoes, wrap, etc. Rowan has 2 bikinis. (I am looking forward to the ritual putting away of the summer clothes when we return--my closet is stuffed and I still have nothing to wear!) I wonder if they'll have Jerk Turkey or something.
*I made 88 of Judeen's Norwegian Meatballs (my Mom's recipe--the best!) and froze them in preparation for the holidays. Didn't sample one, so I hope they don't suck. Haven't had the Lefse Weekend yet, but I'm thinking about it. Need recruits.
*We got our PA drivers' licenses and license plates. And it was a huge saga. Took 6 trips. (Really.) Needed every sort of documentation you could imagine, in duplicate (and a few they forgot to tell us about.) Plus, they're closed on Columbus Day. Columbus Day. AND the 2 days before. You know, because it's such a major holiday. I commented that it was as bad as French bureaucracy. Dr. B said, "No wonder. The government in Pennsylvania is actually older than that of France." He's right. (To be fair, the guy behind the counter here was nicer than the ones in France. And he never said, "It's not possible! It's not possible!" and then wasted 20 minutes of our time flirting with his coworkers after showing up 1/2 an hour late, like the french bureaucrat did.)
*Started to think about what we're doing for Xmas. More on that later.
*Organized Rowan's room so when she grows out of stuff I have 4 boxes on the floor of her closet to drop the too tiny togs into. (Mine, Sam's, Angie's, Christine's.) Thank God for hand-me-downs.
*Stripped, sanded and primed her high chair. Need to touch up the primer (and do the top of the tray) and then paint it. It's going to be "Apple A Day" red.
*Got Rowan's dress for the wedding. Made family and friends trek all over looking for another size of the same dress (they were out here) for the reception in April. (The bride found it in Minneapolis.) Her dress matches mine and the bride's. And I found it at Walmart, of all places. But hey--2 $14 dresses is better than one for 70 bucks at Macy's. And I know she'll have one that fits for the celebration in the Twin Cities. And it's not like anyone will care if it's not silk. She's just going to drool on it.
*Took Lucy for a short walk with Rowan in the Baby Bjorn on Tuesday night when Jeff was out of town. It started pouring. Like BUCKETS. Then I dropped my keys and couldn't find them. (I think Rowan kicked them out of my pocket.) Panic ensued, I cried, it was dark, we were wet and cold, Rowan fell asleep, I worried she had hypothermia, but I finally found them. It was more traumatic than it sounds, really. So we were all in our jammies by 6. And Lucy rubbed wet dog all over the couches.
*My migraines are back. Damn it. Insomnia, too. Fun fun!
*Our friends are coming for a week to visit us! We are so excited. I'm thinking outlet malls, fondue bourguignonne, Tarot games and yarn stores. Can't wait!!! (And she's bringing goodies...)
*Sat choosing paint colors for the stupid greeney-yellow kitchen ("pineapple mousse"--yuck.) with Dr. B. He's really stubborn. We're compromising by letting him choose. (I guess that's because he gave up on I won the picture hanging argument.) I hope we get this done by the time A, J and M get here.
*I'm on steroids. Random rash, stupid sensitive skin. (Seriously. Don't even have a clue what this one is from. I'm allergic to just about everything. Including gold. Who's allergic to gold????)
*Decided I have a love/hate relationship with our local grocery emporium, Wegman's. Love the huge selection, wonderful pre-made meals, fantastic meat/fish department, decent (for an American grocery store) bakery and patisserie, to-die-for cheese counter, good produce, store brand that tastes better than the commercial brands (really--they even make low fat ice cream that's better than Ben and Jerry's, and super cheap), and new and wonderful things (including a lot from local farmers) every time I go, etc. Hate the fact that I rarely get out of there for under 100 bucks, sometimes 200. (Not that it's expensive--there's just so much good stuff! Good thing I'm breast feeding, or I'd be seriously fat.) Hate that they don't have Tony Chachere's Original Creole Seasoning (and I'm out.) And that no one else in town does either. Zatarain's just isn't the same.
*Perpetually sweeping and vacuuming up leaves. By the boatload. Because the way our townhouses are designed, they fly into the kitchen every time the door is opened. Then they fly into the living room. Then the dog lays on them and they stick to her fur and she drags them upstairs. Really irritating.
*Wondering where to buy decent baby tights. The cheap ones don't have articulated feet (they're like tube socks, so they have way too much fabric at the ankles) and Macy's doesn't sell tights any more. Anyone?
*Preparing to buy velcro to stick Rowan's shoes to her tights and inside her shoes so they stay on during pictures. She can get them off in 13 seconds flat, so I hope this works.
*Trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to get me, the baby, and all her crap to the Bahamas. I think I need a truck for inside the airport. Do they sell diapers in paradise?
*Watching Rowan's new thing--scritch scritch scritch. She scratches at everything with her fingernails. And she can put her feet in her mouth, and does pretty much every time you take her diaper off. (Yeah, she inherited my bendiness.)
*Speaking of bendiness, I'm wishing for a yoga studio that has child care. Or that Dr. B would come home early one night a week so I could go. HINT.
*Made a hair appointment for a cut and highlights. Hoping this woman is better than the last one. I look like Dorothy Hamill right now. It's bad.
*Made a doctor's appointment so I don't have to go to the ER every time I get a rash or an ingrown toenail. And so I don't have to call my doctor friends and beg for advice on a Sunday night when I get a migraine. Said doctor friend even drove to her office to double check in her book for me. Now that's a good friend. Thanks, Brenda!!! (Snaps to Brenda) Note: here it's really weird. You just pick a random doctor and call them. No hoops, no hierarchies, no special numbers to call. It was so freeing, I was completely at a loss. Couldn't do it. Finally, I got a recommendation. She was booked, but a colleague had an opening. I hope I like her.
*Wasting my time on Facebook. Because getting to the next level in Vampires, Slayers, Zombies and Werewolves is really that important. (I am a Zombie Ninja right now.) And arguing about whether "de" is a valid Scrabulous word. And throwing turkeys at people. Heh.
*Wasting more time writing long, boring blog posts that no one really wants to read because I'm just whining. And wondering why the Brits spell whining with a spare 'g', like this: "whingeing". Looks like "Hwin-Jing" to me. I guess it is "hwinjing". I just learned a new word! But I really don't think I could use it in conversation and keep a straight face. And frankly, I'm not sure I know how to whinge, anyway. I think it might have something to do with plumbing.
*Watching Dancing with the Stars on ABC.com. It's like figure skating, but not. Tacky, flashy costumes, cheesy arrangements of popular tunes, sweaty smiling people, and scores! Guilty pleasure. I wish I could do it. I would rock those sequins.
OK, enough time wasting. Back to real work. Off to find velcro.
I saw the little white tights, laying on her dresser. Her pink maryjane Robeez. And the little pink long-sleeved T-shirt with the snaps, just like a little leotard, and I couldn't resist.
So, we headed to JoAnn fabrics, I grabbed some elastic and a yard and a half of rose and pink tulle, and got out the scissors.
I tied knot after knot while we watched The Great Pumpkin, and the next morning dressed my Tiny Dancer. I considered putting on her sunglasses and buying her a tiny piano, but Dr. B thought that was a little over the top. She was a hit at the mall (waiting for the car to be done with the PA emissions test), at her Daddy's work, and at Otto's for supper. I even got in the spirit and put on tights, ballet flats, a jersey skirt and a wrap sweater, all in black. I was her choreographer. I even had the speech planned, "You got dreams? You want fame? Well, right here's where you start paying! IN SPIT!!!" But no one even noticed me. It was all about her.
A pair of my most favorite socks (that I wear all the time, not just in October, similar to my penguin socks) were decidedly done. They were worn through on the heels, and I'm not about to learn to darn a pair of socks that cost 2 bucks, so I had to put my Vampire Socks in the trash.
Sigh.
I set out to find a replacement. And I did. Two, in fact. Please note that the candy corn ones are extra versatile, because you can wear them for Thanksgiving as well. (Corn is Thanksgivingy, right?) I love the witch boot pair, because they remind me of those witch cartoons you used to see back in the day, when Bugs was on every Saturday morning, and the parents slept in and let you eat pudding pops for breakfast (OK, maybe they didn't know about that) and watch hours and hours of TV in your jammies.
And the rest of the girls are getting in the spirit, too. Rowan's have little spiders on them. And for some reason, orange daisies. Lucy's ghost scarf glows in the dark, too.
When Rowan gets tired, she starts acting, well, sort of strange. This video is a good example. It was taken Saturday afternoon, in the dressing room at Macy's while her dad was trying on pants. After manically nursing the rubber giraffe's face and shrieking a bit, she makes a fart noise with her mouth. Three minutes later, she was passed out in her stroller, in what we call the Buddha pose (ie no neck, eyes closed, mouth closed.) She slept for a good half hour, long enough to get Dr. B a pair of jeans, a pair of pants and two new shirts. (They were having some good sales!) All in all, a good day's work.
Knitters are famous for UFO's, me included. This was a sweater I started for Louise, the summer before we left Paris to move back to the US. I finished it, except for the weaving in and buttons, but there were things I wanted to fix.
So it sat in my knitting basket for about a year.
I finally decided that since I'd lost the pattern and couldn't remember what kind of yarn it was, much less what size needles, I should just finish the dumb thing before my own child, conceived and born since I'd laid it down, would outgrow it.
So I grabbed some buttons at Walmart and spent way too much time poorly sewing in the billions of ends. I washed and blocked it, and now it's sitting, waiting to dry (which is taking forever because it's been raining for days and days and days.)
An unusual color for a baby girl, perhaps, but I like it. I think it's Debbie Bliss Cashmerino, but I really don't remember. It's not perfect by any means, but it's done.
Now I need to get moving on the shawl collared shrug I'm knitting for her, before she outgrows that one, too!
Dr. B grew up in a hockey family, in a hockey town, and though he didn't play himself, he is a die-hard fan. Upon marrying him, I had to learn, and quick.
So I did, and we are forever Sioux fans, cheering loud for our guys in green.
Then, we moved to Wisconsin, and when they weren't playing our team, we cheered the Badgers on.
Upon moving to Pennsylvania, we were disappointed knowing that Penn State didn't have a team in the college conference, Hockey East. They have a club team, but it's just not quite the same as the crazy fervor of "yoooooooooooouuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrr North Dakotaaaaaaahhhh Fighting SIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUXXXXXXXXX!!!!" (Insert blasting opening chords of "Y'all Ready for this?")
But, PA does have hockey. NHL Hockey, and two teams. We were told to support the Penguins, because someone who my mother-in-law used to work with was married to a former Penguin. A plausible reason, and they are owned by Mario Lemieux, the legendary player. So we turned on the game, and started watching.
Good hockey. Fast game, exciting play, and 2 really good fights. And there's a certain player who's getting a lot of buzz. A very young player who is already breaking records, who has impressed Gretzky, was made captain of his team at 19 years old, and who in his first season scored 102 goals. They call him "the next one".
My brother-in-law is amazing. He's a wonderful guy who always makes my husband laugh until tears run down his face. He's dealt with unbelievable things in his life, and always come out stronger. He's a caring husband to my awesome sister-in-law Samantha, and a great father to my 4 incredible nephews and nieces. And he's a very, very talented finishing carpenter who owns his own business, Brownson Construction, in Billings, MT.
This week (10/21), they aired the television show about the Carter Family in Billings who were given a new home on Extreme Home Makeover. Todd's business did the finishing carpentry on the project. (That means the woodwork, doors, windows, etc.) The home is gorgeous (especially the woodwork, ahem), and the story is incredibly heartwarming.
If you missed it, please check out the show at ABC.com (if you have a US IP address. Foreign ones don't work, sorry.) They don't show him, or even mention him (though they're mentioned on the main contractor's website), but his work speaks for itself. I'm so proud of him!!!
Dr. B and I are no stranger to things changing in our lives. We moved away from our home state for his graduate school, and when he finished that, we left the country and spent a year in Paris. We came home, returning to the familiar, and then began our journey as parents-to-be. For the most part, things always seemed to turn out for us. Whether this is due to my guardian angel or not, we had always come out on top.
Then Rowan was born. Now don't get me wrong--this wasn't a bad thing. But it didn't turn out just as we expected.
Rowan had colic for the first few months of her life. She would scream and cry and fuss for hours and hours on end, and nothing we did would calm her. She would not be soothed. It tore at our hearts to see our little girl upset, when we could find nothing to help her. And not only that, she didn't seem to even know we existed. She didn't love us. She didn't need us. We couldn't help her and she didn't care.
I felt like a failure. For one of the first times in my life, I was failing at something.
I led an easy life--I got good grades, learned easily, made friends, was happy. I was both talented, gifted, lucky. Though I had dealt with things that were difficult, I always came through it. But this time, no amount of thinking or research or planning or intuition could solve this problem. I couldn't do it. And I didn't know how to take that.
I had thought, before she was born, that the connection would be instant. That I would love her more than life itself from day one, like all parents talk about. But it just wasn't that way. I loved her, yes. But I didn't like her that much. She wasn't very easy to like. Yes, she was beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful and a blessing from God. But she was very difficult, and it was difficult to deal with the fact that I wasn't completely in love with my daughter. I felt awful, but sometimes I was very angry, and frustrated and defeated. I was very ashamed. I felt like a terrible mother.
Then, Dr. B had to come to Pennsylvania to start his job, and we spent six weeks visiting family. I was scared. Scared to death. It was all on me.
It was tough, though I had the help of our family. But it was still up to me. Then slowly, it started to get easier. She still had her tough days, but they were fewer. She started smiling, and one day she smiled when she saw me. And things started to change. Very slowly, they started to change.
Last week, Dr. B had a conference in Washington DC for four days. I was all alone, with her and with Lucy. And it was fine. No, better than fine. It was good.
The other day, Rowan had her 4 month shots. She screamed when the nurse poked her, and cried desperately as I gathered up her papers and checked out. We went outside, and I took her in my arms and sat on the grass with her, holding her close and cuddling her and singing silly songs until she calmed down and returned to her happy self.
The next day, she was still reacting to the shots. This time she wasn't fussy, but she did take more naps, and long ones. I found myself checking on her, often.
And then I realized it. I couldn't wait for her to wake up. I missed her.
This is one change I am very proud of. This is a real accomplishment. This means more to me than a doctoral degree or a year abroad or the perfect job or the best performance.
I am absolutely, positively in love with my daughter. I look forward to waking her up in the morning, and I can't wait to snuggle with her when I hear her stir. Her laughter gives me that "squeeee!!!" feeling I got the first time Dr. B called me for a date. Her smiles light up my world. When she buries her face in my neck as I carry her up to bed, I'm in heaven.
I'm a Mom, and now I finally feel like a good one.
Dr. B and I aren't football fans. Frankly, sports aren't the least bit interesting for us, save of course for the best team in the world. Last night, as we met some of his colleagues for supper at Otto's Brewpub in State College, we were asked who we'd be rooting for during today's big homecoming game. I saw some Badger fans, glowingly happy in their cherry red jackets, and I felt, well, a little homesick.
I like State College. It's my new home, and it's Dr. B's new job, which he really enjoys. It's a great university, great reputation, beautiful area, blah blah blah. But I spent seven years of my life in Cheezland, drinking the wonderful local microbrews with lots of wonderful friends, enjoying squeaky curds (well, not often--I'm not a big fan of those. Cheese really shouldn't squeak.) and eating brats (well, not a lot of those either--have you seen the cholesterol count?) so it's hard to say "Go Lions!" when for years it's been "Go Badgers!" (Of course, unless they were playing the Fighting Sioux, but that's a given. We will always bleed green.)
