The other day, I took Ezra with me to Old Navy. He walked in the store and suddenly his eyes lit up, he shrieked for joy, and then? This happened:
Yes, he ran up to the little girl mannequin, gave her a hug, pet her hair, and then tried to hold her hand. He didn’t want to leave her.
And this, you guys, is why I need to get Ezra some more friends. Mama may be an introverted loner, but baby sure ain’t.
I’ve been remiss in blogging duties. And most other duties. So much going on, so much to do, so much. I’m planning on kicking off the New and Improved™ Version 2.0 of this website in the beginning of March. Until then? iPhone pics for everyone! Lucky, lucky you.
A couple weeks ago, Ezra said his first real word: car. Or “Ca! Ca! Ca!” shouted at every car that drove past us as we were sitting outside of Starbucks on a Sunday morning. The next day, he ran up to me as I was cooking dinner and started pointing wildly at the block of cheese on the counter and making the sign for ‘eat’ while saying “shees! shees!” Car and cheese. That pretty much sums up the priorities in his life right now. I could pretty much die from how adorable he is when he’s getting all excited over cars and cheese.
When I was pregnant, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to freak out over milestone stuff—that whether my baby was fast or slow at walking or rolling over or talking or whatever, it wouldn’t be a big deal, because it all works out in the end and there’s no use stressing over it. Come kindergarten, it doesn’t really matter who was running across the living room at nine months and who was taking their first timid steps at fifteen months.
I’ve been pretty good about this so far. Mostly. But all the froufrou ‘what, me worry?’ nonsense meant nothing when all the baby development guidelines were telling me my 15-month-old son should be saying at least three words and I knew he wasn’t saying any. Or when my friend’s eight-month-old was already saying mama and dada .
So maybe I was freaking out. A little bit. But I tried to keep it down because obviously Ezra is a crazy awesome genius. He’s smart and social and expressive and he babbles all the time omg nonstop and his receptive vocabulary is pretty darn huge. Deep breath, lady.
So I just kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
And then when he was happily yelling at the cars, I didn’t even realize it at first. He was pointing at every car and it still took me forever to connect the dots. Oh! Car! He’s saying car! And I realized that he’s been making that sound a lot lately so… I just totally missed it. I have no idea what other words I’ve missed—he’s being raised bilingually so I wouldn’t even understand any Spanish words he tried to say. And now I feel like a bit of an idiot.
But my kid? He’s a frikken’ genius.
BONUS VIDEO for making it to the end of this post: Ezra ‘talking’ on the ‘phone’:
Ezra is amazing.
It’s such a crazy age, right around now. He wants to be everywhere, at once, and he usually succeeds. Nothing is interesting for more than a few seconds. He loves food one day and hates it the next. He has a constant death grip on one of my fingers and he never wants to be alone and he wants to play in the cat food or bang things on the tv or stand at the front door and jiggle the knob (He can reach the knob now? Wait, what? When did this happen?). He’s teething, like all the time, 24/7, hardcore. It makes him fussy and whimpery, but he’s handling it way better than I would, so I can’t even complain. I don’t want him to watch much tv, you know, but sometimes I just wish he would anyway. I wish I could just curl up on the couch with him and watch—I don’t even care. Thomas and Friends or Dora or whatever, anything, just so we could sit still for more than 30 seconds. But TV is so boring, mom!, and there’s a ball of loose cat fuzz on the carpet that needs to be inspected and DVDs that need be thrown off the shelf and…here we go, nonstop party time, and didn’t you know, naps are for babies, mom!, let’s go go go!
But, goodness, he’s just delightful. He’s finally starting to walk, little cautious steps, looking for approval the whole way. He stops to clap for himself after a few steps and squeals with delight. He’s so happy, so loving, so sweet. So full of excitement and laughter. He sings along and dances and claps whenever he hears music. He plays pat-a-cake games and chases the cats down so he can hug them and he growls like a monster when we’re having tickle fights. He’s a charmer, a total flirt with the grandmas in the grocery store aisles. He loves staring at our faces and trying to figure out where the nose is, the eyes, the mouth… he loves his belly button and he loves having his head rubbed and his ears cleaned. He’s obsessed with brushing his teeth, or at least with chewing on the toothbrush for hours.
And sometimes, right in the middle of the baby-step-taking, cat-chasing, teeth-brushing, dirt-eating, breathless-laughing, living-room-destroying, nonstop BabyPartyFest, he comes up to me and wraps his little arms around me and plants a big juicy kiss on my face and buries his head in my neck, and…yeah. I knew when I had a kid that I would love him like crazy of course, but I didn’t expect it to come in fits and starts like this. One minute you’re on the ground playing with a toy car and trying to figure out what to make for dinner and thinking about how tired you are and all the bills that need to paid and who’s going to clean the dishes and and and… and then bam, a tiny crazy monkey baby is dangling from your neck and mushing his face up against yours and suddenly you can’t even breathe because you’re heart is just exploding right out of your chest.
I finally got the new iphone. I sense a lot a silly videos in my future.
Happy birthday, my dear, sweet, amazing, perfect little boy.
I don’t have words big enough to express how I feel about you. It’s a lot like love, only it’s more like love times infinity to the moon and back again. Plus a million. And then some. They day you were born and they first laid you on my chest, I thought my heart would explode from love. I thought it was stretched to its very limit and I couldn’t hold even a smidgen more of love. But somehow, it did. Somehow, every day, my love for you grew. My love for your dad grew as I watched him be an amazing father to you. Every day, my heart gets bigger and bigger. I don’t even know how I’m able to stand up anymore with all this fierce love coursing through me.
You lean in for cuddles, you zoom around the house begging us to chase you, you give us big sloppy kisses, you babble for hours and hold our hands and clap and dance whenever music’s playing. You are so funny and charming and sweet and brave and strong. You’re the happiest person I’ve ever met.
This year has had its share of challenges and worries, but it’s been the most rewarding, fantastic year of my life. It’s such a pleasure and a honor to be your mom. Sometimes I feel as if a silly little girl like me hardly deserves all this happiness, but when you clasp my fingers and cuddle into me and plop a big kiss on my cheek, I realize: we were meant for each other. You, me, your dad. All of us. We were meant to be a family. This little, perfect family.
I love you, little monkey.
Ezra and I are sick: :(
We both came down with ugly cough/cold/virus things last Tuesday and we’ve spent most of the time since then on the bed in our jammies, eating lots of soup (me) and drinking lots of milk (baby), watching hours of Teen Mom (me) and Yo Gabba Gabba (baby) online, and being really cute (baby) and really whiny and complainy and annoying (me).
I am such a total big fat whiny cranky baby when I’m sick. I need constant time and attention and care. Like, a fully dedicated staff that runs around at all hours making sure I’m comfy and that I haven’t missed a dose of medicine and that the TV is at the correct viewing angle and that I’m not too hot and I’m not too cold and that there’s an endless supply of warm honey tea and trashy gossip mags and jello and homemade soup. That’s all I ask for. That and a bottle of NyQuil D.
But with a real (and way less whiny and cranky) baby who’s sick too, I’ve been forced to put on my big girl panties and take care of both of us. Without the NyQuil. Saying it’s been a little challenging for me would be an understatement, I think. And just seeing his poor little body wracked by another coughing fit breaks my heart a little bit. He’s a total trooper though. In between the coughing and the snot attacks, he’s been laughing and playing and clapping and dancing and being the cutest thing ever. He’s way more mature than his mom, for sure.
We’re on the mend. I think. I hope. We better be. Because this week? Oh, goodness. This is the birthday week. The Birthday Week. Because Ezra? He’s almost a year old.
… okay, I’ve got to go lay down again now.
Despite the sleep exhaustion all around, we’ve had a pretty easy 11 months here. One bout of pukiness and Ezra’s dedication to finding new ways to scratch himself no matter how often I trim his nails—that’s about all I’ve had to really worry about so far when it comes to my preshus widdle baby.
Okay, there may have been that time where I closed my eyes for a second and he decided to leap off of the bed head first.
And there may have been that time where I noticed mysterious purple dots all over his face and became convinced he was DYING. RIGHT NOW. OMG. CALL 911!!! (thanks, Dr. Google!) before my mom shoved me to the side and wiped the blueberry splatters from lunch off his face. While maybe rolling her eyes at me a little. But hey, I’m not the one who didn’t clean him up after feeding him neon-colored food!
But otherwise? It’s been pretty smooth sailing.
So when I put Ezra in his high chair on Saturday morning and walked into the kitchen to get his food, I was totally unprepared for the huge crash I heard behind me. For all the unthinkable thoughts that rushed through my mind in that split second of terrifying silence as I rushed back into the room. And then the crying. Oh, the crying!
Ezra had kicked off of the dining table and thrown himself backwards, into the shelf behind him and the floor beneath.
He screamed and screamed and screamed while I tried cradling him close and calming him down. And after 5 or ten minutes, I finally found one of binkies and tried giving it to him. He took it and immediately started to fall asleep.
And that’s when I really started to worry. Because this baby? He never immediately falls asleep. So I took the binky away and tried to call the on-call nurse with a sad, hurt, crying baby right next to my ear.
I was really, really expecting them to say “Oh, he’s fine! Relax! Don’t worry about it.” But after putting me on hold to talk to the ER doctor, she said I should bring him in.
To the emergency room.
You know. The room for emergencies. Like the one going on right now. With my baby.
You know. The bright, shining, happy little center of my world.
OMG.
I called Cris at work and five minutes later he was home, all worried and teary-eyed (manly tears!) and we rushed the still-crying baby to the emergency room.
And then we waited for a hour. Of course. Is there anything in the world worse than an emergency room on a Saturday morning? If there is, I don’t want to know about it.
The doctor decided to keep him there for a few hours of observational instead of doing an MRI. Which is cool, ‘cause I really don’t want my baby to die of cancer, but man, those few hours sucked. Hard. There is nothing about a hospital bed and a plain, gross room that makes an upset, hurt, starving, sleepy 11-month-old feel better in any way.
At one point, a nurse came in take us the basement for his x-ray, despite my insistence that he wasn’t supposed to have an xray. We sat in that waiting room for 30 minutes before she realized she was mistaken and sent us back.
And then shortly after, another nurse came in to prep him for his MRI. And then I had to get all NO HE IS NOT HAVING AN MRI GO TALK TO THE DOCTOR FIRST NOW PLEASE.
So eventually the doctor came back, said Ezra seemed fine, and then told us to leave before they tried to get us to have any other unnecessary procedures.
Kaiser Oakland? You suck.
But my baby’s head is still fully functional, so I’m counting this weekend as a Win anyway.
Good job, awesome little toothy daredevil guy!
Ezra pooped.
The squirty kind.
The kind the oozed right out of his diaper and all over his pants.
Right as I was carrying him to the car to drive home yesterday evening.
Right into my hands.
And on my shirt.
Yeah. Not the best drive home, I’ve ever had.
And when Cris suddenly shouted for me in a panic as he was putting Ezra to sleep last night? Yeah. It was because the baby had projectile vomited all over everyone and everything.
We’ve made it eleven months without out any of these, uh, eruptions, so I guess that’s not too bad, but: OMG EW.
Ezra didn’t seem to mind too much himself. We ended up bringing him back to bed with us and he spent the next 90 minutes giggling and laughing and sitting up and doing everything but going back to sleep.
I was so tired this morning that synapses in my brain were firing off in random directions and I ended up applying my deodorant directly to the top of my head.
The white streaks in my hair add dignity, right?
Sleep Issues. We haz them.
So, Ezra is a fantastic baby. Of course. Obviously. He is the cutest, bestest, smartest, funniest, happiest, amazingest baby in the whole world times infinity. Fact.
But the boy HATES going to sleep. Hates it with a fierce passion. The type of hatred one typically reserves for IRS audits or Holocaust deniers or that asshole right in front of me at Starbucks who ordered the last cheese danish.
The very second we try to lay him down to sleep for nap time or bedtime, my otherwise superhappy baby transforms into The Beast Who Shall Not Be Tamed. There is screaming and yelling and crying. Flailing and smacking. Rending of garments and gnashing of teeth. Heartbreak. Misery. Despair.
And after the forever long it takes to soothe him to sleep, the whole scene is usually repeated around 2 or 3 in the morning, when he wakes up and decides playing is so much better than stupid sleep.
I’m at a loss, really. Ezra hates being alone. I’m okay with that. I’m okay with rocking him to sleep if he needs it. I’m okay with us cosleeping. The thing he does as he drifts off to sleep? Where he grabs my finger tightly with one hand and then uses the other hand to rub my arm softly? It’s pretty much the sweetest thing ever. I’m going to be a sad panda the day he stops doing that.
But what is killing me is how hard he fights sleep no matter how exhausted he is. He’s been like that since he was a newborn, but now that he’s outgrown the swaddle and learned to sit and pull himself up on his own, it’s so much harder to keep him laying down long enough to close his eyes. And when one of us holds him down firmly, he just stares. Eyes locked wide open, barely allowing himself to blink. Because as soon as he closes his eyes, he starts to fall asleep, and this is just ENTIRELY UNACCEPTABLE. IT IS PARTY TIME PEOPLE, NOT SLEEP TIME!
After two increasingly frustrating hours trying to get him to take his nap yesterday, I actually yelled at him for the first time. He sat up and laughed at my “WHY WON’T YOU JUST SLEEP?!?!” outburst like it was the funniest joke he’s ever heard and I immediately felt like a giant douchebag and tried to relieve my guilt by taking him to the living room to play…so, yeah, Ezra: 100, Mommy: -100000000.
How does this ever end? We have a bedtime routine. We have baths and books. We have a relaxing, quiet environment. I’ve tried putting him to bed earlier. I’ve tried putting him to bed later. I’ve tried feeding him more or less. I’ve tried music and rocking and walking and white noise. I’ve tried tylenol and teething tablets in case it’s from any pain. I’ve taken him to the doctor to rule out anything more serious. I’ve read books and websites and tried everything I can think of (except for letting him cry it out, which I just don’t have the stomach for). I have NO IDEA what to do anymore. I mean, besides doing my best zombie impersonation every morning.
(I guess the one benefit to having horrible insomnia my whole life is that I’m pretty experienced in (just barely) getting by on a pitifully small amount of sleep. Yay? )
My request to work from home two days a week was approved.
Internet, let us all breathe a collective sigh of relief. I know you were worried about me.
Wednesdays and Fridays are now officially the days I work from home, i.e., the days I lounge around in jammies with a cute baby and a laptop and a much chirpier personality from not getting up at 6am and not being stuck in traffic for four hours. I.E. NOT SUCKY DAYS.
The best part of working from home:
Notice: lack of shoes! awesome baby! sunshine!
And—less than two minutes later—the worst part of working from home:
I think I am going to have to buy Ezra a laptop for his birthday.* I see no other possible solution to this.
*Speaking of his birthday: OH HOLY WTF?! ONE YEAR? WHAT? This cannot possibly be right! Somebody hold me.
We keep extra diapers and wipes and a change of clothes in the car at all times. We stock up on Plum Organics baby food and Happy Baby snack foods to make eating-on-the go convenient and painless. We have a baby who’s remarkably easy-going and happy (as long as no one’s trying make him sleep, of course) and can be entertained all day with nothing more than a set of car keys and someone’s face nearby to grab/smoosh/smack/talk to (with love!).
And yet, still—still!—it takes us about 12 hours of frantically running around the house to prepare to go anywhere for the day. We had been planning to go to the They Might Be Giants concert at Stern Grove for a while. The show started at 2 and we wanted to get there really early to get good seats. We started getting ready go at 9am. We arrived at Stern Grove at 1:30. Because of course.
So, we grabbed a section of uncovered grass somewhere waayyyy off to the side. I can not stress how far off the the side we were enough. I don’t even know if the spot we were at could technically be considered Stern Grove anymore. We’re talking out in the cuts. We’re talking boonies. We’re talking totally ridiculous!
But, whatever, baby didn’t care and I could at least see a glimpse of a vague man-shaped thing on a stage through the crowds of people and trees, so close enough, right? Ezra was enthralled with all the people and trees and grass. Two little girls were sitting close to use and he spent most of time flirting with them. And by ‘flirting’, I mean ‘laughing and yelling for attention”…his skills could use a little refinement before he hits adolescence.
Combined with Saturday’s adventure at the super crowded, expensive, and omg delicious SF Street Food Festival (no pictures! too busy EATING!), it’s been quite the weekend. We are exhausted, sunburned, and achy. An ice cream sandwich and then it’s off to bed—with fingers crossed that the baby sleeps through the night just this once.
Last year—after we sadly gave up on trying to buy a house in time to move before The Due Date—I got my heart set on getting an apartment in Alameda because I wanted to live right next to the ocean. The ocean! The magical ocean! I imagined that after having the baby, we would spend cozy afternoons curled up on a beach towel, playing with sand. That we’d take family walks along the coast every morning. That we’d have lovely beach picnics on the weekend.
Of course, it’s been almost a year now and last Sunday was the first time we actually got around to going to the beach that’s all of two seconds away. Sheesh.
Ezra wasn’t entirely sure about the whole beach thing at first. When confronted with something new and weird, he gets this awesome scrunchy little expression on his face and he suddenly becomes very serious. It’s pretty much the most adorable thing ever.
But after some tentative poking in the sand and bashful hiding—and after the introduction of a little plastic wagon with wheels (WHEELS, YOU GUYS!!! LOOK AT THE WHEELS!!!)—I think Ezra and The Beach are on friendly terms now.
Bonus Points: I got to scratch off the first thing on my 28 before 28 list!
When I was pregnant, I swore I would never be one of those mothers who stuck their babies in a playpen. You know, those mothers who gleefully abandon their poor, neglected babies so they can, like, drink martinis and get manicures and whatever? Right.
And then Ezra started crawling all over the place on an epic quest to find new, amazing things to put in his mouth. Like cell phone chargers and cat fur and loose change. And it turns out I need to actually use the bathroom or get food ready or do something, anything once in a while. So… yeah. So much for that.
I’m becoming remarkably good at doing things I swore I’d never do.
Things are slowly settling into a new kind of normal around here.Despite the occasional bout of nearly homicidal road rage, the commute is getting more bearable. Or less unbearable, depending on how you look at it. I’m looking for a commute buddy to make the daily drive less expensive and painful and I’m adjusting my hours to try to beat traffic a little bit. We’ll see how it goes, but at least it’s going.
And on the wildly positive side, getting home in time for us to both spend a couple hours with our pweshus widdle baby before putting him to bed at night is totally wonderful. We’re actually able to come home and, like, do stuff. Like cooking (yum!) or cleaning (ha!) or crawling around the floor chasing Ezra or even, gasp!, going out somewhere! It makes me feel all wild and heady and free.
And Ezra? Well, in addition to learning to crawl, he went and sprouted two delightfully chompy little teeth at he same time last week. Which may have contributed to the very sleepy and grumpy week for everyone involved. You know, maybe.
Oh, Ezra. Just when I’m feeling all mopey and grumpy, you go and do something adorable and awesome by just up and crawling across the living room.
I knew there was a reason I liked you!
I have all these posts I’ve been writing in my head about cute things like father’s day or Ezra’s first tooth, but… not gonna happen. Because, seriously, internet? I am in quite a funk lately.
So, let’s see. C started his new job that’s all of one block away from our home. Lovely for him. And for us, since it means no more getting home at 8pm or later, just in time to put the baby to bed. That’s no fun. I kinda like my baby and I kinda like spending time with him, strangely. But previously, we commuted. C would drop me off at my job downtown, and then drop the baby off at his mom’s house and then drive a few minutes to his job. Minus his stupidly long work hours, it worked perfectly for us. Now that he’s working in the east bay, I need to drive myself, drop the baby off all the way on the other side of SF, and then come back downtown to my job. And since there’s no longer 3 people in the car, I have to pay the $4 (soon-to-be $6) toll and wait in the soooo slowwww non-carpool lanes (it took me forty-five minutes just to cross the toll plaza), and then I have to pay for parking at work. Which is $30 per day. Of course.
It took me 90 minutes to get to get to work this morning (and I live exactly 14 miles away (OMG)), and it cost $34.00. Did you know that spending $34 a day will equal approximately ELEVENTY BILLION DOLLARS in one month? True story. This is just AWESOME.
And then there’s the fact that Ezra—my adorable sweet baby, the light of life—is sick. He is feverish and sad and miserable and clingy and I just feel completely awful for him. I just want to snuggle him forever and make him feel better. The past couple nights, he’s been waking up every couple of hours and screaming inconsolably. The only way I could get him to calm down last night was by taking him to the kitchen at 2am and distracting him with some avocado and a little glass of water and a clip from Yo Gabba Gabba on my iphone (bad mommy!). He cried the whole way in the car this morning, and when I took him out finally to take him to his grandma, he was covered in snot and tears and it was the saddest. thing. ever. And he cried so hard when I left.
Heart? Broken.
And add onto this the fact that Ezra’s constant nighttime screaming has done nothing to stop Cris from getting a full night’s sleep? And waking up in the morning to chirpily say “so, did the baby sleep well last night?”? And that yesterday’s promises to take care of the baby last night and make me coffee this morning so I wouldn’t CRASH AND DIE on my way to work were TOTAL LIES? Yeah. I’m going to a very shrill, bitter place. It’s not pretty. And while I’d normally add some disclaimer here about what a wonderful father/boyfriend/fiance/whatever Cris is, I spent the better part of last night fantasizing about violently shoving his stupid snoring buttface off the bed, so I’m just not feeling it this time.
See? Not pretty.
Bleary-eyed resignation and a constant internal chant of ‘this too shall pass’ are all that’s getting me through the day right now.
Okay, that and Starbucks.
(p.s. i have spent the last, oh, FOUR HOURS trying to upload a picture of Ezra to add to this post and IT IS NOT WORKING. Today can go die. )
Ezra loooooves being on the balcony with us.* There are trees and birds and exciting kids playing in the courtyard below, plus, it’s where the cats hang out. And he loves nothing more than being where the cats out. So we’ve been spending more time on the balcony as the weather warms up, which brings us to:
This, dear friends, is my new GARDEN PARADISE. Okay, so maybe it’s just a few potted plants on a too-small balcony, but I’m pretty excited about it anyway. A short trip to Home Depot and a couple hours of playing around in the dirt, and now we’ve got thyme, rosemary, basil, cilantro, oregano, two types of tomatoes, and a million varieties of peppers growing. And some sunflowers, just to keep things EXCITING. I want to add more plants eventually, but Cris made me promise to start small. (I may or may not have a habit of going way obsessively overboard with new projects only to lose interest halfway though.) But if we could only fit an avocado tree and a lime tree up here, I’d never have to leave the apartment again.
*Ezra loves being outside, period. He has yet to discover the joys of curling up on the couch in your jammies and watching awful movies. Sometimes I wonder whether he’s really my son (see also: tall and skinny, fearless, loves strangers).
I’m going to start this post with a picture of my baby’s bum:
I’ve really got nothing to top that.
Ezra is rolling and flopping and squirming like crazy in his quest to learn how to crawl. He does some pretty epic downward dog poses and then launches off head-first into whatever is in front him. And then he cracks up. Funny stuff.
The not-so-funny stuff is the part where he’s so gosh-darned excited about moving that he refuses to lay still in bed. No matter how late is. No matter how tired he is. And especially no matter how tired I am. Even half asleep and whimpering, with eyes closed, he tries to squirm on to his tummy. So either I hold him and he open his eyes and starts screaming at me. Or I let him roll over and he opens his eyes and starts trying to launch himself off the side of the bed while laughing adorably. And then crying because he’s just so sleepy.
And he does this for hours before finally falling asleep.
And then he wakes up a few times throughout the night and repeats the madness just for good measure.
In other words: Man, I could use a nap.
I’m just going to pretend it’s not already Wednesday (Wednesday? What? How on earth did that happen already?), and do my weekly wrap up now. Only it’s supposed to cover two weeks. I’m not doing this right, am I? Oh well. Carrying on…
Goals this week? None. I’m taking a break and catching up on Glee and Parenthood. Priorities, people. I haz them.
There are so many I’m already forgetting. I wish I could package every moment up and save it forever. I wish I could freeze time and just stare at his face for hours, memorizing every tiny detail.
No amount of brushing will make Ezra’s hair lie flat, and it doesn’t help that when we pick him up from his grandma’s in the evening, we usually find that she’s gelled it straight up into a mohawk.
I know this is probably COMPLETELY SHOCKING, but I think my kid and his insane hair are ridiculously adorable.
I called in sick this morning so I could spend the day with a feverish, sleepy Ezra. Yesterday was our 6-month checkup and vaccinations. Ezra handled it like a champ and the charmed the pants off of the nurses (uh, not really. ew.), but then he woke up at one in the morning with a fever and just wanted to spend a couple hours making pitiful whimpering sounds and cuddling up with me. In other words, I spent the night trying to sleep in a pool of sweat and droll.
Aside: Every time the nurse has given Ezra the rotovirus vaccine, she’s given us a little speech beforehand saying that he’ll probably spit it out, most babies do, but that’s okay, etc. And it amuses me because she obviously does not remember my son. Because, Ezra? Yeah, he’s the one trying to rip it out of your hand so he can shove it in his mouth even faster. Because medicine, didn’t you know, IS DELICIOUS OMG MORE PLEASE!
Right now, Ezra’s sitting in his Circle of Neglect (i.e. the hideous exersaucer) while I try to get some cleaning done check twitter and facebook. He keeps excitedly trying to show me his favoritest thing on the exersaucer: the fabric tag hanging off one of the stuffed toys. Because of course that would be his favorite thing.
Every time I’m home alone with Ezra for the day, I try to get work done to prove to myself that I could make it as a work-at-home mom. But I started this post at 9 and it’s already 3 and the most exciting thing I’ve accomplished so far is microwaving some leftovers for lunch. So… maybe not.
But now it looks like my baby is ready for a nap and I think I just might join him. Who needs accomplishments when there are babies to cuddle?
I know it might seem like I’m a little biased, but it’s actually 100% pure scientific fact that Ezra is the most amazing, intelligent, fantastic, adorable, funny, wonderful baby who has ever existed in the history of forever.
I am not a morning person. I detest mornings. But a certain someone is making it VERY HARD to be a grumpypants in the morning, as is my wont.
For Ezra, mornings are a time of wonder and delight and giggles and silliness. He wakes us up laughing and smacking various body parts until we’re awake enough to play with him too, and then he happily sits on the bed with toys or stuffed animals or books while Cris and I take turns either tickling him or getting ready for work. It is sweet and adorable, and it makes getting up in the morning totally worth it.
Oh, Ezra. I never knew 6am could look so delicious!
My mom wouldn’t let us go through Easter without putting Ezra in a suit. Specifically, the cutest suit ever. I wish we had more pictures, but come picture-time, Ezra was a total sleepy grump and only lasted a couple seconds before not-so-gracefully bowing out.
But, man, the polka dotted tie! It just KILLS me!
I don’t know if it’s teething or a growth spurt or some karmic retribution for sins I committed in a past life, but Ezra has just not been a happy sleeper lately. Back in the distant, barely remembered past, he would go to sleep and 8pm and wake up around 6am. It was nice. I was functional.
Lately? Not so much. Last night, he woke up crying every hour or so for his binky (I have a definite love/hate relationship with that thing) and then stayed awake (and miserable! and LOUD!) from around 2 to 5:30. THAT WAS FUN.
I kept trying to nurse him, but we would fuss and yell and pull away, so I just figured hunger wasn’t the problem. But in a last-ditch effort to get him to sleep oh my god please sleeeeep!!!, Cris went and made a bottle for him. He nearly swallowed the bottle whole in his attempt to drink it as fast as possible, and then he immediately fell asleep until we had to wake him this morning.
So, huh. Maybe this breastfeeding thing is coming to an end? Huh.
And the thought of this is actually making me sad? Huh.
This is unexpected.
As I was going through Ezra’s old clothes to donate, I came across a pile of newborn onesies that made me sob like a little girl a bit teary-eyed. Was my baby ever that impossibly small? Who is this giant who’s a mere bowl of carrots away from 12-month sized clothes? Who is he and what has he done with my teensy baby?
He’s growing so, so quickly. Everything is just zooming by. He can sit unsupported for whole seconds at a time, people! This is so amazing. So fascinating! I came across a new blog (everybody loves baby) and saw a picture of a little boy standing and thought aww, one day Ezra’s gonna learn to stand up! … and then I realized that her baby is only three months older than mine and “one day” is probably not so far away after all.
O.M.G.
In the beginning, people would tell me to appreciate the time when he was an itty bitty brand new baby because it would pass in the blink of an eye. I would smile politely and think I understood what they were talking about, but, really? I had no idea. I absolutely love the funny, cuddly, strong-willed boy that Ezra is becoming, but I already find myself waxing nostalic about back when he used to be a babyyyyyyyyy!!!!!
Slow down, little guy! Mama can’t keep up!
These the the top ten baby items I couldn’t have survived the last five months without!
: We have a million blankets, but these wraps are awesomest. For the first four months, Ezra wouldn’t sleep unless he was tightly swaddled up like a baby burrito. The Aden + Anais wraps were the only ones large enough to wrap our fiesty, fidgety baby in comfortably, and they can used for tummy time or to cover a stroller or even as a nursing cover. And they are beautiful and soft and comfy and BLAH BLAH BLAH I am in love with them. They are pricey, but totally worth it. Ooh, and the dream blanket? That thing is fantastic. I want one for myself. 
: This little seahorse is lovely and soothing and plays beautiful, relaxing music that doesn’t sound tinny or obnoxious in any way. When we lay Ezra in his crib at night we start this, and five minutes later, the music fades away and our baby is fast asleep. Most nights. 
: Okay, yeah, I felt a little dumb spending almost $20 a stupid rubber giraffe but I had seen in recommended so many places that I caved. THANK GOD. Ezra loves this guy. Especially chewing on his face. It’s cute. And drooly. 
: I loooove carrying Ezra in this. He’s always hated being alone, and once I got over the initial learning curve, I would hold him in here and it was the only way I could manage to get anything done. We’re using it a little less as he gets bigger, but I don’t know what I would have done the first four months without it. 
: Once Ezra started getting too BIG AND STRONG to be contained by a mere blanket, this was a lifesaver at night. We got the miracle blanket too, but it mostly sat in a pile all alone and unloved because the swaddleme was just so much nicer to deal with. 
: This thing is like baby crack. Push the button and Ezra will immediately stop whatever he’s doing and stare at this thing, mesmerized by the lights and pleasant-sounding music. He also enjoys trying to eat it. 
: My mom bought this for Ezra at Christmas and it’s been great. We use the soft light and lullaby songs as we’re getting him ready for bed, and then the gentle white noise to help him fall and stay asleep. It also plays music from the ipod, for the occasional spontaneous stuffed animal dance party! 
: This is the best changing pad EVAR. It is warm and soft and comfy, but also totally wipeable (very important for a boy who took every diaper change as an opportunity to PEE IN YOUR FACE). Not having to wash a million changing pad covers has been so nice. 
I am dreading the day when Ezra grows out his infant car seat and we have to deal with a real stroller. This is so, so much easier. 
: This was the perfect weight for taking walking in our chilly-but-not-too-cold Alameda weather, and a million times better than trying to keep blankets covering Fidget McFidgetyPants here. 
The first time I fed Ezra rice cereal (verrrry watered down), he got mad. He kept trying to shove the spoon in his mouth and suck, while looking at me like I was crazy and then YELLING LOUDLY every time I dared to pull the spoon out of his mouth. I gave up after a few bites and nursed him, figuring that he just wasn’t ready for solids quite yet.
And then he started trying to grab food out of my hand whenever I ate near him. He would pull glasses of water to his mouth if I was drinking. He would SCREAM WILDLY every time he finished a bottle.
So we tried again. He loved the cereal this time. I don’t think he really understood the purpose of the spoon when clearly, if I would just stop being so dumb about it, he could grab the mush directly out of the bowl with his AWESOME HANDS THAT CAN GRAB THINGS!!! But if I gently held his hands and kept the bowl out of reach, he would deign to use the spoon, and now he’s an EXPERT.
A messy expert.
I had been planning on making our own baby food from the beginning. I finally got a copy of Top 100 Baby Purees
Of course, last night Cris ended up not getting home with the baby until almost 9, way past Ezra’s bedtime. He took one bite of the carrots, smiled at me, and then put his head down on my shoulder and started drifting off to sleep.
And after all the time spent on his dinner (steaming carrots is hard, people!), this is what happened:
I have so much to do, but, woe!, I seem to have come down with a cold. Which I caught from my baby. Sick baby + sick mama = NO FUN. The past few nights, Ezra has decided to remind us that he’s not feeling too great by waking up every couple hours and SCREAMING SO LOUD OMG SO LOUD. The only thing that seems to console him is to sit him on my lap and gently rock him for hours as he stares off into the distance, all pitiful and morose and snot-filled. Sleep? What is this ‘sleep’ you speak of?
I had scheduled Monday and Tuesday off of work so that I could enjoy some time with Cris and Ezra during Cris’s last week of family leave, but spending the whole time on the couch or in bed whining about miserable I felt and worrying about the baby was not exactly what I had in mind.
And now, I’m back at work with a ton of stuff to do and an inability to concentrate on anything for more than two seconds because MY NOSE! MY HEAD! MY THROAT! OMG MISERY! HEY LOOK TWITTER! Plus, my annual review is tomorrow morning. AWESOME.
Having a baby and a full-time job is taxing enough for me (really, how do so many people do this? I am so weak!), but add a (relatively mild) cold to the mix, and I’m just done. I need a margarita and a bottle of nyquil, stat.
Ezra has been such a wonderfully happy ball of cuteness lately that I’m starting to wonder why I didn’t have babies sooner and when I can have 20 more. He smiles and coos and babbles and giggles and sticks out his tongue and blows raspberries all over the place. He loves people. He loves the funny sounds they make. He loves poking and grabbing and smooshing their faces. He loves being the center of attention. He gets upset when we stop looking at him and yells out to remind us that he’s still there, still being cute. He loves tummytime and bathtime and storytime. He hates naptime. He loves Dance Party time with dada, and he’s already learned mama has no idea how to dance. He’s mesmerized by his feet, the kitties, anything that lights up. He twists his whole body around to stare at the tv whenever it’s on, even though mama says no tv, not even The Daily Show. When he’s sleepy and you put your hand close to rub his head, he grabs on to your entire arm and pulls it across his tiny body and buries his face in your palm and only then will he close his eyes. I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty in love with this little guy.
Cris has been taking the last half of his paid family leave to spend some quality time with the baby and I’m so jealous. I was a little worried that I would come from work every day to a happy baby and a sparkling clean apartment and a delicious homemade meal on the stove, but my worries were completely unfounded. As nice as it would be to have that for these three weeks, I’m more grateful that Cris is just as cheerfully unproductive as I was on my maternity leave. At least he now understands how hard it is to get anything with the baby around, even though he does nothing but smile and eat and poop and cry.
I was able to work from yesterday and sit on the couch in my jammies with my laptop in front of me and Cris and the baby next to me. This is approximately 100000000000 times better than being in a cubicle. Hopefully I can find a way to make this an everyday thing sometime before Ezra’s 18th birthday. I’m already getting so sad about all the moments I’m missing with him.
Ezra’s become completely obsessed with his hand and his fingers. More specifically, with gnawing and drooling on said hands and fingers.
Tomorrow. ARRRGG. Tomorrow I return to work after four blissful (baby-birthing! sleep-deprived! poop-filled! major-surgery-recovering!) months off. Tomorrow, Real Life starts again and I have to get back in the business of not wearing jammies all day, having conversations with people who don’t respond in adorable coos and bashful smiles, and using the computer for something besides surfing the net endlessly with a baby attached to my boob.
I’m so happy that I’ve been able to take this time off, but 24 hours x 3 months of BABY!BABY!BABY! is just a bit exhausting… the color and consistency of a certain someone’s poop is my favorite topic of conversation and my idea of a Really Exciting Day is one in which I maybe get dressed and perhaps take a short walk to Starbucks, so… yeah, that’s a probably a sign that I could use a little more normal adult interaction in my life right now. So I guess I can admit that part of me is a little relieved to be going back to work.
But the other part of me? Totally heartbroken. I mean, God. Look at this kid—
He is so delicious! The thought of not being around to witness and delight in every single second of his laughter-filled, chubby-thighed existence fills me with an entirely brand-new kind of despair.
We’ll get through it. Things will fine, I know. But, man, this is gonna suck for a little while.
Today was supposed to be my first day back at work, but… no. The thought of going back to work right now leaves me all anxious and vommity-feeling so I panicked at the last minute and emailed my boss to ask for an additional two weeks off. I know it’s not going to get any easier in two weeks, but I’ll take every extra second of time with this that I can manage—
