happiest of birthdays, tiny.
You know how they say that one of the best parts of being a parent is re-living your childhood? A few weeks ago I bought bubbles.
I hadn’t really up until that point, but if you think about it, bubbles are pretty crazy. Especially if you’re starting from scratch. Out of nowhere emerges a translucent, floating globe that is rainbow and glassy and fragile and silent and drifts on the wind…non-existent, here, then gone.
Tiny was fascinated by them. And terrified. Kind of how she was with stickers the first time the guy at Trader Joes handed her one and it stuck to her hand. Panic.
She’s since recovered. Hello Kitty stickers now adorn every knee-level item in our home. Including Spike.
True to form, within a day she overcame her bubble fear and has since attempted to drink the the soap whenever it’s left unattended and started demanding bubbles at bath time.
But now she knows what to expect. She still gets excited when one suddenly appears, but they aren’t quite so mysterious anymore. There’s no moment of silent terror when a bubble slowly drifts towards her head, no trepidation in reaching out to pop one. Some of that magic has already dissipated. It’s amazing how quickly that begins to happen. And it makes me a little sad.
Fortunately the world is full of everyday objects that I no longer notice, waiting to be discovered by two year olds. Because taking a moment to realize how incredible it is that an airplane can go zooming by 5,000 feet over your head makes life so much more fun. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you.
Paul was home this weekend. And life got like 4 bijillion times better.
I know correlation doesn’t always imply causality, but this weekend I became sane and HH slept through the night. So that was miraculous and glorious. It was also the first lazy weekend morning I’ve had in forever…even though we were up riding our trikes at 7am.
Paul also downloaded a free doodling iPad app for HH called DooDoo Lite, and spent the whole weekend talking to HH about making doodoos. But I actually got to spend some time BY MYSELF and finished Season 5 of the Good Wife, so he could have been teaching her how to juggle knives, I didn’t care.
Now it’s Monday, back at the grind. But I feel rejuvenated and ready to tackle whatever comes at me. Even this.
I wasn’t totally wrong. Sometimes you do just have to hang in there a little longer.
Last week a friend with a 4 month old made her status on FB: “So when do I get to sleep again?” It took everything in my power not to comment: “Never.”
I remember being at work in Kentucky one day, in a fog, when HH was like 3 months old, and reading a blog post by Brad Feld titled: “Are You Getting Enough Sleep?” Before reading the article, before even thinking, I yelled “NO!” at the computer and started to cry.
Lack of sleep is the worst. I don’t handle it well.
HH is going through a phase (but let’s be serious, when are they not “going through a phase”) where she is not sleeping. And yes, we have done cry it out (it works sometimes), but even if she puts herself back to sleep she’s up again within two or three hours. By 4am she’s usually up yelling, inconsolable, and I am so, so tired I bring her into bed with me, so at the very least I can lay down while she throws herself around, inadvertently punching me in the face, and maybe snooze on and off until 5 or 5:30.
Also, Paul is working nights. He gets home around 8am, sleeps, leaves again at 4pm. I am more or less flying solo.
So very quickly out the window has gone: meditation, yoga, early morning work, and my ability to focus or handle any kind of stress.
I have started putting her down at nights, cleaning the house, and IMMEDIATELY going to bed to read/fall asleep by 8:30. And I still feel like my head is full of cobwebs and cry when I can’t get the cereal bowls to stack up in the dish rack to dry (happened yesterday).
Paul, on the other hand, is getting about 5 hours of sleep a day and seems to be handling life just fine. Because he has superhuman strengths.
Like everything, this is temporary. Paul won’t be on nights next week, and this phase for HH will eventually, undoubtedly, morph into some other phase. I know I just have to hang in there a little longer. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
On the bright side (literally), the sun is out! It is 74 degrees! And the pool is open! Hellloooooo February in LA.
One of the perks of being in a daze like this is workouts, for me, can be mentally much easier. I just do what I’m told and don’t think too hard about it (or anything else). I don’t have to get in the zone, because I’m already zoned out. It’s kind of great.
AND, weirdly enough, it doesn’t always have a huge impact on my ability to have a solid, sometimes even stellar, workout (though my 3 mile “run” yesterday might beg to differ.)
And today, because I am so energized and ready to rock after a good swim, Paul is getting up early to watch HH for an hour so I can get a workout in this afternoon. Because what fun is life if you’re not about to faceplant while your toddler tears around the house unrolling any roll of toilet paper she can find.
So for now I’m doing my best to keep the cereal bowl situation in perspective, strategizing on new pillow arrangements that prevent my child from rolling off the bed while simultaneously protecting me from getting pummeled by tiny, flailing fists, and embracing every opportunity to capitalize on on my inability to think.
Until the next phase kicks in.
Someone has been banished from daycare for the second week in a row for congestion. It has also been BRUTALLY hot in southern California (our house was a chill 100 degrees yesterday afternoon. Inside.) Which makes it close to impossible to do anything during the day except sit in one place and sweat.
Paul is still working nights. We rarely see him. And after the umpteenth time of daycare telling me that I can’t bring her back until the end of the week….
Seriously, is this normal? For daycares to reject kids with runny noses that they picked up from…wait for it…daycare? I mean, I get it, but it’s a vicious cycle.
Anyway, this inevitably led to a spontaneous mid-week trip to SB so Memaw can watch HH for stretches during the day and I can actually accomplish some work. I honestly don’t know what I’d be doing if I didn’t work from home and have family nearby…aside from being let go from my job because I’d be bringing a little snot machine maniac to the office with me every day.
So here we are, back up north. Enjoying some time with the Greats. Hope you’re all surviving the heat.
A few weeks before I went back to work, I was at the pool and ran into a woman that I used to coach and hadn’t seen in about a year. She was like, What have you been up to?? I was like, well, I had a baby a month ago…and she was like OH MY GOD I TEACH BABY YOGA you have to come! I was like that sounds great, but people actually bring their babies to yoga? She goes, oh no, it’s yoga FOR the baby!
“Yoga for babies?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s based on Itsy Bitsy Yoga. We do a lot of stretches and positions…it helps with digestion.”
“Isn’t there a lot of crying and pooping and stuff?”
“Oh, people change and feed during class. But if someone starts to cry we all sit in a circle and wait, because we don’t want anyone to feel left out.”
Well. Obviously I had to go (plus classes were free. And btw, Itsy Bitsy Yoga is a real thing. Look it up.)
I went once and Marsha, who is kind of a yogi herself, took over after I went back to work. Every Wednesday morning at 10 they would go to yoga and come home for a nap.
A few weeks ago, baby yoga got cancelled for good. Bummer. Might have to start baby meditation now, help HH re-find her zen.