Whisper Sweet Nothings

If there's anything I adore about having a baby, it is the chance to experience each little nuance of development. With Coco turning 6 weeks old tomorrow, she's now trying to communicate with me. She coos and smiles and sighs--all in her own sweet way. I usually get to chat with her this way when I feed her, or just when we cuddle together.

Today when I was at a doctor's appointment, I was caught up in conversation with my CNM, and Coco tried to get my attention by looking right at me, smiling as bright as she could, and letting out long verbal sighs of delight. Now, there might have been a time in my mothering that I would have more or less ignored her communication, letting it wait until the conversation with my practitioner was over. Not this time. I now realize just how fleeting this stage is, and I immediately turned to smile back and recognize that her message came through loud and clear.

"I love you, too, honey." I responded.

Now for those of you who will be partying it up this New Year, enjoying all the many forms revelry that comes along with the holiday, have a great time and live it up. Enjoy the stage of life that you're in, because each one has its perks. As for me, I'll be savoring the one that I currently find myself in as I quietly coo in 2010 with Coco. I celebrate this new year with new life, and it doesn't get much better than that.

Tired

In line with the original purpose of documenting my life as a young mother, particularly life with a baby, I would be remiss if I did not include something about sleep deprivation.

There's just no getting around it. For as much as a mother is crazy about her little one, the lack of sleep that accompanies the joyous bundle is something fierce, especially if you have other young children who occassionally decide not to sleep either. Last night was an example of that. Here's the log. (Keep in mind this was all going in the midst of me fighting a new cold Sassy generously passed on):

• 10:00 p.m. -- Coco's final evening feeding. We're done about 45 minutes later, finally ready to sleep.
• 2:10 a.m. -- Coco wakes up for a feeding and change
• 3:00ish a.m. -- Sassy wakes up crying for "Mommy and Daddy." We still don't understand what she wanted.
• 3:30ish a.m. -- Sassy wakes up again crying for "Mommy and Daddy," and I lay on thick the need for her to really go back to sleep.
• 5:15 a.m. -- Coco wakes up hungry. I try and hold her off a bit so that we can feed her at her usual 6:30 a.m. feeding to try and get her on a consistent schedule. This ends up her being in bed next to me for a while, as I try to repeatedly replace her pacifier. No sleep here for me, really.
• 6:25 a.m. -- Finally feed Coco. And, I'm really tired.

Seriously, I don't know how single mothers do it. Were it not for Pearly-Q's help, I think I would flip out. The crazy thing is, for as insane as last night was, compare my shameless photo above with little Miss Bright-and-Bushy-Tailed:

The irony!

The Best Christmas Gifts

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about gifts lately. When Pearly-Q asked me this year what I would want for Christmas, I was honestly stumped . . . I literally don’t feel like I need anything. As we all eventually figure out, material things (beyond meeting our basic physical needs), really don’t bring happiness. Temporary satiation—maybe—but happiness? Don’t count on it.
Considering all the blessings I’ve been basking in lately as a mother, I honestly couldn’t think of any particular material item I should send my husband on a wild goose chase for. (Now if he were to offer cooking dinner for a straight week, that might be a different matter). As for stuff, though? Nah.

For me, this Christmas, I consider the list of gifts that I’ve been showered with and I can’t imagine any holiday season more resplendent. Here’s just a smidgen of them as a reminder for me in the future:

• An honorable, kind, and funny husband who loves me in spite of all my multi-faceted neuroses


Four awesome, healthy kids--Including a darling baby (who just started to cooing at me, actually), and made it through a precarious delivery safe and sound—without having to have surgery, which we’d previously thought was very likely



My health. (After going through a long period of difficult health and severe insomnia, I promised myself that I wouldn’t take this for granted again).


Not having to wear nasty support hose anymore


Food, warm shelter, clothing, education, clean water

And last, but definitely not least:

A Savior. I am so grateful for Jesus Christ and what He does for my life personally. When I am at my wits end with how short my best efforts fall, I thank Him for His remarkable ability to make me whole. I remember His birth with reverence and joy.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

"Shirley T"

I think I may have come up with a new, more fitting nickname for the Sass. Recently as I got her dressed up for church in her latest Christmas dress, I did her hair with the typical curls, this time with ringlets all around her head. (Hallelujah to the fact that I got at least one child—thankfully this one a girl—with my more low-maintenance curly hair!)

As she got up and ran from me, I remarked to Pearly-Q, “Honey, I swear that Sassy looks just like Shirley Temple.”

To this, he cocked his head to one side and slowly nodded, “Yeah . . . I think you’re right.”
Since that time I haven’t been able to get that thought out of my head, and have started to call her “Shirley T.” When I first used this name, Sassy responded in typical fashion, “I’m not Shirley!”

Then I explained, “Do you know who Shirley Temple was, honey? She was a beautiful little girl, with dark curly hair just like you. She was so cute that everyone loved her.”

Sassy lingered for a moment. Sassy is very picky about labels, I’ll have you know. For instance, we cannot refer to her as cute, or pretty—only beautiful. Fortunately, after much deliberation she finally answered, “Okay, I Shirley.” Yes! Victory!

I, for one, grew up adoring Shirley Temple, just like the generation above me. Regardless of the fact that I did like Sprite and grenadine anyway, I always ordered “Shirley Temple” drinks wherever I went just because I loved the name so much. I still remember watching the old 1939 version of The Little Princess, wishing that I could be Shirley Temple’s character as she wakes up one morning to the surprise satin quilt, beautiful robes, and hot breakfast her friendly Indian neighbor with the parrot has given her. I wanted to be her even more when she throws the big bucket of ashes on the resident snob/bully of the girls’ school where she has become an indentured servant. Call me precocious, but the film conjured all sorts of fun imaginary scenarios that I loved acting out as a little girl myself. I remember thinking how one day if I had a little girl, I would watch Shirley Temple with her, too.

So, in honor of that tradition, last night I picked up a copy of The Little Princess, and watched it with my kids. It was more charming than I’d remembered, and I was struck by just how much Sassy really does remind me of that famous actress. Her pout, giggle, smile, natural charm, and happy-go-lucky air were so similar to my own little girl—not to mention her joy in dancing. I can’t tell you how many hours a day are spent by the Sass twirling, leaping, and posing as delicately as a three-year-old can manage while she listens to Christmas music. (She’ll even dance to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir broadcasts).

Needless to say, Sassy fell for Shirley Temple as much as I once did. I delighted in looking over at her face last night. She was completely mesmerized, and when I tucked her into bed last night, after the initial requirements of kissing all my individual facial features, cuddling in her bed for “ooone minute,” and sharing a story from when I was a “wittle girl,” Sassy asked if she could watch The Little Princess again when she woke up. I happily grinned and nodded. Though there are definite traits I hope Sassy does not pick up from me, (i.e. my temper, potty mouth, or any other number of nefarious flaws I will be working on for my lifetime), at least this is one area I certainly don't mind her taking after me. Long live Shirley!

Freak outs and Epiphanies

I hate to admit it, but this picture captures part of what I've been feeling lately.

Now that the logistical realities of mothering four children ages five and under are setting in, I have been facing all sorts of new realizations about my shortcomings. I have found that in the midst of managing the chaos, I get more frustrated and frazzled than I would like to admit. Unfortunately, this also means my family ends up getting the brunt of my aggravation as well. Last week I had a complete freakout session when Pearly-Q inquired about why hadn’t put the berries back in the fridge. In my sleep-deprived, deranged mind, I decided to take offense about his “criticisms” of me in the face of me taking on what felt like Mount Everest. Poor guy.

My biggest annoyance has been what feels like the inevitable tendency of everyone around me to ignore what I have to say. Now, I know that most mothers feel like most of their children don’t listen to them, but lately it has felt more uncanny than I can describe. Regardless of the method of my communication—multiple reminders, calmly or not so calmly conveyed—I seem to be resolutely disregarded. Normally I freak out about this, and I have more than once recently. (I am completely ashamed to admit that I called Santa Claus on Bitty this last Friday when he had one doozy of a day. It wasn’t pretty.)

Recently, however, I have wondered whether or not there is something I am doing that is causing this insatiable problem. I am the common thread, after all. And, for as long overdue as it might seem, it has caused some real soul-searching about why my family doesn’t want to listen to me. Fortunately, in talking this out with someone else, I reached an epiphany: perhaps I am not listening to myself. This person observed that I am continually discouraged by the fact that I don’t have enough quiet time to pray and meditate. As a result, I don’t allow myself the chance to consider the various situations in my life, and what I can do to improve on them. I don’t have time to listen to the Lord’s direction, or pay attention to any other cues from my own spirit, for that matter.

This has been a helpful observation, and one which I’m trying to utilize. Easier said than done, I know. But, I’m considering how to allow my soul more quiet moments to . . . just . . . listen. I try to do this most often when I’m feeding the baby alone, (this seems to be the easiest time). In the process I find that I’m clearing the clutter of my own mind, which means that I’m less volatile. Now we’ll see if it makes a difference in how others around me respond . . . I guess we’ll all have to stay tuned.

Mother-to-this-child

Since Coco’s birth, I have done a lot of thinking about an article that I read over a year and a half ago. Written Dorothy Lee, a well-known cultural anthropologist from the 1960’s-70’s, the essay is entitled “To Be or Not to Be—Notes on the Meaning of Maternity.” In the article, Lee advocates that “maternity is a relationship,” and that when we decide to bring a child into the world, or adopt one for that matter, we have decided to not just add another child to the mix of parenting. Rather, we decide to be “mother-to-this-child,” that each relationship with each child is special, important, and irreplaceable.


Lee specifically states,

“When this is recognized, the mother is helped to sense the particularity of her child, and the peculiar flavor, the peculiar quality of the relationship that she can have with each child. It is good to ‘have children,’ it is good to see one’s self as the mother of children, but it is also necessary, I think, to recognize and to develop the relationship that greets personally the individuality of each child.”

Essentially, when we become mother to another child, in a sense we are reborn in that relationship with another human being. I am a new mother to each new child.

I believe there is so much merit to this. When I contemplate on the various stages of my mothering I consider how telling it is that some of my most difficult stages came when I allowed myself to just “go through the motions,” and didn’t savor the particular relationship I have with each child. It seems so easy to allow myself to get run over by the machine of day-to-day living, and this can overtake the inherent joys that lay beneath the surface. In contrast, the times I gave myself the privilege to put aside the things that really didn’t matter—the checklists, the unbelievable expectations that modern society places on us as mothers, and some of the mundane requirements of keeping house—then I really, thoroughly, enjoyed my experience as a mom.

In light of remembering some of these truths, becoming Coco’s mother has been a beautiful rebirth for me. I feel like this time around I am wiser in my approach, in my expectations. If anything, I am loving the chance to savor her very essence, her personality, and the mystery of all that she is now and will become in the future. . .

And so, with that in mind, here is a short salute to the exquisite rarity that is each of my children:

To the Big-O:

My spiritual giant, who already eagerly seeks learning by study and also by faith. I adore his wisdom, for he teaches me much about what is really means to be a humanitarian.

To Bitty:

Whose capacity to love constantly takes me by surprise, especially when he loves me wholeheartedly in spite of my weakness. And, who invariably can find the funny embedded everywhere.

To the Sass:

The little girl whose passion for life mirrors my own. I cherish my chance to have a daughter whose personality I enjoy so much now, I would have chosen her as a friend in adulthood.

To Coco:

We considered naming her Serena, which would have been appropriate for her personality. She brings great tranquility to my heart, and to our family.

May we all cherish the mystery of the individual.

Mr.Bitts

If there is something I absolutely love about four-year-olds, it is their uncanny ability to make one laugh by the hilarious things they have to say. Completely in earnest, and unbeknownst to them, they have a way of looking at the world that is so refreshing and fun. Each time they share one of these gems, I try to record it on our white erasable board, (although I'm realizing that perhaps I ought to have a better form of keeping track of them. . . let's hope this is a better forum for that.) Besides, I like to share in the wealth.

Bitty has had some fantastic quotables lately that make me just want to squeeze him. Here's just a few that give you a feel for his wry personality:

• After everyone was done showering before going to church Sunday morning, Bitty noticed Pearly-Q's chest and observed:
  “Daddy, you kind of look like you have eyes on your pecks.”
• Recently when I tucked him into bed for his nap, I nuzzled up to him and nibbled on his cheeks and ears, to which Bitty replied, "Mom, when you nibble on my ear it turns me frozen."
• Another tucking in bed moment--this time I was helping him clean out Bitty's nose: "Mom, last night I had some crusties in my nose and looke like Grape Nuts! Did you want to eat them? Hahahahaha!"
• When Pearly-Q took Bitty on some "special time" they drove past McDonalds, to which Bitty responded by asking his dad, "What was it we ate together there Dad, that was so yummy with the ice cream and the chocolate?" Dad responded, "Do you mean a hot fudge sundae, Bitts?" "Yeah--Dad, what day is it?" Pearly-Q answered, "It's Monday." Bitty thought for moment and then requested, "Dad, can go to McDonalds right now and have a hot fudge Monday?"

Got to love Mr. Bitts.