Tuesday, February 24, 2015

This season

It’s about that time again. 10 to 7 on a Tuesday night, the baby sleeping, splayed out over my crossed legs, fleece dinosaur pajamas on, pacifier in his mouth. I’m wearing a short-sleeve grey T-shirt and wish I had a sweater on, socks too. It was -2 degrees when I woke up this morning. John’s out getting Greek food, which we’ll eat on the island. The baby, if he wakes up, will sit in his little chair, next to us, watching us contentedly as he puts his toys in his mouth. The first of our family dinners.

It’s the last week of February of what feels like a never-ending winter. Snow and ice and lots and lots of TV. But warm. It’s been so warm in this house. In this home.

I’ve never described my life in seasons, though they’ve often felt that way, at least in retrospect.

The high school years of taking the train to school, standing on a windy platform every morning, wearing sweatpants under a blue-and-green Catholic school uniform. Of lockers and laughing down the hallways, up the stairs, from the convent to the cafeteria, over the grounds of a school that’s now closing.

The college years of buying milk and cereal, on my own, for the first time. Of convenience store candy and vanilla lattes and all the late night conversations that come with being 18 and 19 and 20 and living with the best girls. Of being so confident, so sure that this was who I was and looking back without regret. Of realizing that giving in to that makes, and made, everything better.

The early days of real life, and feeling more confused than ever. Making lists and lists of goals and wants and I-can-do-that’s. Of looking into grad schools and trying on new jobs and wearing high heels to go out and drinking $12 drinks. Of living at home and wondering if it was all going backwards instead of forwards.

The winter of 2009, this specific time period where I was surrounded by cousins and friends and everything felt wide-open in the best possible way. Of giving up coffee for tea, going out on weeknights and doing lots of writing. Of getting engaged, sleeping in a living room full of my favorite people on New Years Eve and starting to feel that this was the direction.

Those first two years of marriage, living in an apartment with a homemade bookshelf and bright orange walls, cooking dinners in the galley kitchen and running to catch the train every morning. Of big ideas and big trips, to Iceland and to Italy, camping and skiing, knowing, even as I was in it, that these were the stories we’d tell.

And now, early motherhood, cuddled on the couch under blankets with a sleeping baby, a smiling baby, a fussy baby, exchanging stories over text and over chat and over facetime with those same best friends who now have babies too. Of feeling like my person has now also become a partner, that we tag-team things together, I’ll sleep and then you’ll sleep, you wash the bottle and I’ll change the diaper, I’ll trust you and you’ll trust me and we’ll figure out this little family we’ve made.  

This season feels mine, in a way it never did before. That I’m cutting myself a lot of slack, giving myself the time to figure it out, to evaluate and then re-evaluate. To analyze, like I’ve always done, but then to just sit down and read Goodnight Moon or that book I downloaded on the Kindle three weeks ago. When they say soak it all in, it feels cliché. How can you, even. But it’s quiet now and it’s calm now and it’s a season, and I’m in it.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

3 months

At 3 months, Luca:
  • Rolls from front to back, and seems to surprise himself every time he does
  • Weighs 13lbs, 1oz (as of two weeks ago, at least) 
  • Falls asleep to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and Hush Little Baby
  • Smiles whenever he hears The Itsy Bitsy Spider and has a particular affinity for Good Day by Nappy Roots
  • Really, really wants to stick his entire hand in his mouth
  •  Smiles every morning, without fail, when we go up to him in the pack and play
  • Stares at himself in the mirror above his swing, because obviously he is my kid
  • Eats about 4oz at every feeding and 4.5oz at the one right before bed 
  • Gets breast milk primarily, with two bottles of formula thrown in
  • Has slept through most of his restaurant visits
  • Wants to always be around people (hey there, twin); he has this new thing where he’ll whine if me and John are eating dinner in the kitchen and he’s in the swing in the living room. At least we’re starting family dinners early.  
  • Hates having clothes pulled over his head
  • Is making lots and lots of sounds. Oohs and aahs and little laughs
  •  Loves the car seat more than anywhere else 

At 3 months, I:

  • Have finally gotten a haircut, after basically a year, in the hopes that I wont be tempted to just pull it back every single day. I went with bangs, so lets hope it's not too high maintenance and I won’t regret it come Monday.
  • Want to plan a vacation somewhere warm, like I imagine every single other person who lives in the Northeast right now. I feel like I missed the first couple months of winter, but wow the sun sounds good right about now.
  • Am still breastfeeding and proud of myself for sticking to it. When I was about three weeks into it, I told myself I'd be happy if I made it to 3 months. Thankfully, it wasn't hard for me physically, but mentally it was a lot. It just felt so overwhelming at that point. But now that we're on the other side, and supplement with some formula, it just feels manageable and that I can totally keep it up for awhile longer.  
  • Come home every day for lunch to pump. That's definitely one of the amazing things about working down the street from my house. 
  • Need to get out of this postpartum, wear-whatever-is-on-hand thing, speaking of clothes. I went to work on Friday in an outfit that I would never have walked out of the house in this time last year. Mostly it’s cause I’m lazy, but come on. 
  • Am so much less lazy about doing things around the house. This could totally be because my mom and mother in law are over all week, but I don’t procrastinate emptying the dishwasher, doing laundry, or wiping down the countertops as much as I used to. Washing the pump parts though, UGH.
  • Am starting to feel a little more like myself again. In total honestly, I feel like I’ve been saying that every week for the past 10 weeks. But I guess this is the process. More than anything, this post-partum period has almost felt like living in a fog. And I mean that in the best way possible. It goes fast and slow and doing everyday things can feel totally new. I remember the first time I went to CVS after Luca was born and bought so many random things just because I was out. It reminds me of this essay, which makes me cry whenever I read it.
  • Have never spent more time on the couch, the TV on in the background, this little bugger in my arms. And it’s cliché and I don’t care but this all is just so good. So good.