Like Sunshine, and Rain

I honestly can't complain about my life. HR's doing great-- my cousin and her husband babysat him again last night and not only did he go to sleep for them in 10 minutes and stayed asleep the entire evening, he doesn't seem to be aware of this "separation anxiety" concept. That makes me feel quite lucky. He was up at his usual 3 a.m. and had an hour-long coughing fit, but that's just his cold, and I can handle it. Things at work are getting better, and did I mention a hundred times that I'm going to Florida tomorrow for a few days? I've got it indubitably good. I'm thinking about how things for a few people I love are really crappy right now, and it's hard to reconcile one's own joy with others' sadness. It's not that I feel guilty for appreciating what I've got, it actually makes me want to squeeze every drop of happiness from the good stuff when I can, because I know that the tides are ever turning. But I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that I'm keeping them in my heart and mind as they go through their trials. Amy and Leo, you two are especially in my thoughts right now.

All this is leading up to how I was making yet another mental list of things that I adore this morning, things that never fail to make me feel good, and I planned to write about them here as always. And then I thought, maybe this isn't the time? But then I thought, maybe some of these things can make other people feel good too, people who need to feel good? I guess I don't need to justify what goes in my own space. Anyway, here are some things I'm all lit up about at the moment.

Like spring fever! It's a-coming, people, it really is. Sure we're going to get a Nor'Easter or whatever tomorrow, but we're thisclose to the whole world turning green and wearing skirts and dresses all the time and opening the windows at night and sipping tequila while listening to Steely Dan. I get this way with the promise of spring every year, and every year I marvel at how it doesn't get old.

And then there's Easter candy. No matter how you feel about the holiday, somewhere among the Cadbury mini-eggs and Swee'tart bunnies, there's something to love.

Here are a couple of movies I love that just make you want to give life a hug: Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Linda Linda Linda. If you haven't seen them, give them a try. Or rewatch if you have.

I'm always inspired by getting a peek at writers' workspaces - this blog feeds perfectly into my obsession.

The E.L. Koenig book from which the blog took its title is no slouch either - reading From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, to me, is the literary equivalent of chicken soup.

Baseball season is starting!

Best friends for life are just that, even you haven't seen in ages. And I get to see one of mine this weekend! When we get together it's gonna be all like:

If you have happy love thoughts to share, please do, because someone somewhere can use them, and there's no such thing as an overabundance. Catch you all next week sometime.

Dance All Night, Play All Day

I haven't been writing about it because I said I wasn't going to write about HR's sleeping issues unless I had something positive to say, but I need to get this out. We've had one of those grueling runs wherein Mr. Man wakes up every night around 3:30 and won't go back to sleep, no matter what. I was doing great for awhile at cutting out the middle-of-the-night nursing, but when this happened for the mmmphth consecutive night, I resumed my post as the human pacifier. Because sleep, oh sleep, what lack of you will make a person do.

Cut to, last night: after seeking advice from countless avenues including friends who have had sleep success with their own young 'uns, I decided to give my last resort a try, the dreaded "Cry It Out" (when I see those words I always hear an ominous echo). We did our normal bedtime routine, and I rocked him for a few minutes, kissed him and put him in his crib, then I left the room. I decided to give it an hour, and if he was still crying after that, I'd resume my usual means. So he cried, and it was tough, but not as bad as I thought, and after five minutes I went in, patted him and told him I loved him. Then I left the room for ten minutes. Patted, reassured. Then 15 minutes. I watched him obsessively on the monitor the entire time. And by the end of that last 15 he was asleep. I couldn't believe it! He was capable of putting himself to sleep without too much trauma... this would change everything! Yes! So Mike went up to check on him a little while later, and found my poor baby drenched in sweat and vomit. Mother of the year, ladies and gentleman.

As I said, I was watching him and listening, and he did cough a lot, but he has been coughing due to a cold, and I never heard a noticeable upchuck sound. I just felt so bad I can't even tell you. I still feel terrible. Of course he was fine. We cleaned him up and put him back to sleep and he didn't wake up again until after four (and I was able to get him back down until after six) and when he was up for the day he was all smiles, all was forgiven. So the thing here is that, all things being equal, I could handle doing the CIO method for a week or so it is said to require. I'm strong enough, and it doesn't seem to fundamentally affect his temperament. But if it means stressing him out to the point that he's physically compromised, it's unacceptable to me. Admittedly it was dumb to try to start something like this when we're messing up his routine anyway by traveling, but the point is we do need to make a change when we get back. I'll talk to my pediatrician about it and see if he has any ideas. In the meantime, it's the old bounce/nurse/hope/coffee solution. We've made it this far, what's a little while longer?

Cripes. On the upside, I just ate the best salad I ever invented borne of random refrigerator contents: mixed greens, green beans, walnuts, blueberries, cold roasted potatoes, goat cheese and balsamic vinaigrette. So good. It's comforting to know I have a career in raw chef-ery if I eventually fail out of mothering.

I heard this on my drive in this morning, and it helped. 

Sick of Your Mouth and Your 2% Milk

The countdown is on: approximately 19 days of pumping left. At this point I'm only doing it to keep my milk supply going while I'm away from the boo during the day - it's not like I'm producing much any more, more often than not my three sessions only add up to one bottle for the next day and we supplement the rest with formula. As you know from my early agonizing here, it wasn't the ideal plan, but I made peace with it long ago. He's used to taking a bottle (we're slowly getting him used to a sippy cup) so I expect the transition, when we go to the cow-produced stuff, should be pretty smooth. I'm not giving up the breast completely though, I figure I will probably keep the nighttime nursing for awhile, and possibly first feeding in the a.m. if I have enough both for reasons both selfless (the antibodies and such can only do him good) and selfish (I'm not ready to give up that bond altogether). It's funny because in the beginning when the going was rough I couldn't imagine that there would be a time when I wasn't ready to be done with the whole enterprise, but somewhere around the 4th or 5th month everything just clicked and it's been a really great experience. And if I'm just going to lay it all out there, odds are good that I'll never be doing this again. So I'm not in a big rush to end it completely.

Once I do, though, I'm ready to get dronk! Not that I haven't been drinking all along, but moderately. I forget what a good old fashioned tie-on feels like. I do remember what hangovers feel like and I don't miss them. But I've got some big celebratory occasions coming up, and when I know HR is in good hands with a loving sitter, it's ON. Not that it will take more than three drinks to get me smashed now that I'm a mama, it's just one of those cliches that are based on truth. Stop me though if you see me accepting a glass of white zin. Isn't it amazing how you step back and look at yourself and think, "at one time I was this guy, but now I'm unequivocally this guy"? Oh, life.

No theme this week, just songs I like. Ween is in my top 5 bands of all time, and not only is this one of my top 5 of their entire catalog, but I was at this show. I was jittery because it was only the second time I had left HR and my sister almost got hit by an errant punch from a stupid fight in our vicinity but it was summer and we were on the Pier and the fog rolled in as it got darker and it was magical. 

A New Low

Another Monday, another test to my commitment to Sparklemotion or, you know, my place of employment. Arg. My upcoming mini vacation could not get here quickly enough.

Over the weekend the boy turned 11 months old, which hit me really hard. The reality train's bearing down on me, saying, "WOO-WOO, Next Stop One Year Old!" How can that be? In honor of the milestone, he went and picked up another whopper of a cold, poor buddy. Guess he's making up for all the sickness he didn't have the first 10 months of his live.The Florida warmth and sunshine will be good for him, for all of us, but sorry in advance to anyone who is on our flight on Friday. Start taking your Emergen-C now.

My brother and his fiancee came down for the weekend, so it was nice to just relax and hang out, and I also got to cash in on the pedicure gift certificate I got for Christmas from my secret Santa. It was so lovely and relaxing, and my feet are officially ready for sandals. So there you are.

Wishing you warm, happy, escape-thoughts, whether or not you need them.

Oh You Fancy, Huh?

HR slept a lot better last night, and I went to bed not long after he did for good measure so everything's looking rosier today, even on the work front. I have a long entry about infant sleep adventures I keep writing and revising, and I'm pretty sure at this point it will never be published because it's more helpful as self-therapy. As in most things, writing about it helps me work through setbacks and frustrations, so it's best kept just for me, for now at least. Maybe I'll write a book someday about my mothering experience, if only to reassure panicky first-timers. I stressed so much about everything at one time or another, and in retrospect it was for nothing. HR nursed more often than any baby anyone had ever seen and I thought he'd never outgrow that, but he did. He couldn't stay asleep without being swaddled for months longer than it takes most babies, but he outgrew that too. Somehow these little squirts have always found a way to grow and thrive without adhering to any kind of textbook or anecdotal timeline, and though most rational people understand this, sometimes lovingly well-meaning parents (fine, I) easily lose sight of this in the quest to do the best thing for our kids. And it helps we overthinkers (I know there are more like me out there) to know that pretty much everything is normal, everything is OK, and even if nobody you know has a kid like yours, it doesn't matter. Your kid is your kid and as long as you love him and meet his needs, he's going to be just fine. I still struggle to retain this mindset, but it really does make a difference when you start having confidence in your choices and don't let yourself get beaten down with all the "shoulds" and what-have-you. Also: see Babies if you haven't.

What I will say in terms of snoozing is that I think overall we're doing just dandy, the evidence being, as Mike often reminds me, that I can't imagine a happier baby. He gets enough rest somehow, even if he doesn't sleep a consistent 12-hour stretch at night. Bedtime is a lovely, close time based on ritual and relaxation and snuggling, and he goes to sleep without a problem, so that's great. The catch is that, the only other constant is unpredictability. You never know when he's going to sleep for a nine-hour stretch or be up every two hours. Every night's a roll of the dice. And I just need to adjust my mindset to handle that, to let it go and let things be what they are. So thanks, dear baby, for ever keeping us on our toes, and for teaching me every day about living for the moment.

That's more than enough said about that, I think. Now, if I had to choose between the two all-time great hoofers, I'd pick Gene Kelly over Fred Astaire every time. This would be obvious if you've known me for five minutes. But Astaire is very close to perfection, effortless grace in old-man pants. He just kills this number from Holiday Inn. Trust me, this is the only part of that movie that you need to see (unless you're a fan of washing your eyes after a good old fashioned racist musical number).

So Long, Violet Eyes

Surprise pancakes are the best pancakes of all. Last night my little gentleman had a pretty rough night, sleep-wise, hence so did we all. While the three of were lounging in bed at 6 a.m. (Mike and I were barely conscious, HR was somehow full of energy and happy as a clam), Mike said, "Did you want to go get pancakes or something?" I guess because he thought it would help me feel better about the latest nighttime backslide. What he maybe didn't consider is that you don't just casually dangle the prospect of pancakes in front of me, that's like saying "tavern" in front of Homer Simpson. So that's how we ended up at our neighborhood delicatessen at 8 a.m. It was great though, the place was relatively empty and we got to really take advantage of the coffee refills while HR behaved like an angelic angel from Angeltown and flirted with the waitress. I put away a shortstack of banana nut chocolate chip pancakes with a side of crispy bacon, and suddenly sleep began to seem overrated. I don't recommend eating like this every day, but today it really turned things around. And then I got to work. I'm not going to talk about work anymore unless I have something uplifting to say (beyond the obvious steady paying gig aspect).

Time to bring in the big guns, then, a guaranteed sprinkle of candy rain when things are otherwise mighty parched: this clip from the fantastic sitcom "What's Happening" (the embed function has been disabled, but I highly recommend taking the time to click on the link).  Obviously it's not from a musical, but it is sort of a musical number and since Mike posted it on his facebook page months ago, I can't seem to stop watching it. It just makes me laugh til I pee. And who couldn't use a good "lizz" today?

Speaking of Liz, RIP Elizabeth Taylor. So as not to memorialize you with such an undignified reference, thank you for all your great work, particularly Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Way Harder Than Sophie's Choice

What is your all-time favorite book? Also, how do you feel about that question? For me, there's no way to answer it with one title. No way. I'd have to break it down into categories, and even then I'd feel like I was hurting the feelings of other incredible books. When pressed, I always say Charlotte's Web by E.B. White, because that's an example of a perfectly written book. It's a children's lit classic, and it's easily accessible to children, but it's so magical because White doesn't write down to kids in any way. He's clear, but presents so many sophisticated ideas, and taps into emotions without laying on the treacle. In other words, he respects his audience. I've read it countless times as a child and an adult. We read it to HR when he was in the womb and I look forward to sharing it with him again when he's a little older. It makes me cry every damn time, but more importantly it makes me marvel over its artfulness and its truth. So yeah, it's an all-time fave of mine. But I have so many!

The entire Weetzie Bat series by Francesca Lia Block, for starters. There was nothing like this before, nor has there been since. The Secret History by Donna Tartt which I would rather re-read than do most anything. Judy Blume is my hero, and even though it's not her best book by far, re-reading Summer Sisters is an annual ritual so that goes on the list. Oh man, The Handmaid's Tale - don't you wish you could live inside Margaret Atwood's brain? Maybe not, it's a scary place, but scary smart. Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are - there to me is an example of a perfect picture book, it's brilliantly executed, and timeless. The Stand, come ON! I unabashedly love Stephen King and this is his masterpiece. Oh, and Lolita knocked me over - if you think you know what this is about, you haven't read it. Most recently I really dug Ann-Marie MacDonald's Fall On Your Knees, I'm not sure how new it is, but it was new to me. Hmm, I could do this forever. So I had better stop. But if you want to share, please do, I love to hear what people love.

OK, now watch this:



Like books, I could never pick a fave Gene Kelly number because they're all so spectacular. Me + Gene Kelly 4-EVA.