Food fight

Take a look at the picture to your left. What do you see?Yes, you see a cutie pie. Yes, you can observe her pink shirt, blue bib and button nose. Yes, she can hold a bowl by herself. What you are really looking at though, is victory! It's in the bowl! There's nothing to see and that right there is what I'm so excited about.

For 3 months I have tried to get Charli to eat solids. I have tried being funny, tried clapping, tried begging, singing, shoving, jumping, tricking and I even prayed. She would have none of it.

Clearly, she inherited my stubbornness. And the only way to win against that is sheer, defiant will power. Which is a problem for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm used to winning the battle of the wills but I'm also used to having a REM cycle or two to help with staying power. The last few months have been full days and short nights with interruptions every 2.5 hours.

I have had to motivate myself to pick the fight with food by reminding myself that I can wean her as soon as real food can sustain her. And once she's weaned, I can go out alone spontaneously again. No more planning a week ahead to make sure a bottle is ready and then racing home before the next feeding. No matter how much I hate this food fight and no matter how sleep deprived my little brain might be, I still know that it would be stupid stupid stupid to give up. So I have trudged for three months, asking for advice, handing the duty off to my Mom and sister when I can and trying to make Charli jealous of all the fun we have at dinner eating real food by looking at her and smiling every time I take a bite (okay, not really on the creepy dinner eating but maybe I should have tried it).

All that work with no success until last week when we sat down to do battle and she opened her mouth right up. She did it over and over again until the bowl was cleaned out. I wanted to be frustrated at the sudden switch but relief won out. I literally cheered. She liked that. Then I took a picture. I felt good about that. Now each night when I feed her, she eats and I cheer.... but I figured one empty bowl picture is enough.

Peek-a-boo...where am I?

Here I am! I find myself playing that game increasingly... not only with Charli but with everything else in life. The last few months changes in Charli, combined with the holiday marathon season meant that most areas of my life got compartmentalized and put away for a while. Now I find myself pulling out those boxes and dusting them off, including the one that had this blog in it.

If you haven't been around to actually spend time with us in the last few months, you've missed A LOT. Right before Christmas Charli was pretty good at sitting on her own. Here's an update since then:

-Charli figured out how to roll over but didn't ever do it because it meant being on her stomach and she hates that.

-She then became a flipping machine once she realized she could go places with it.

-She now has found flipping across the floor to be too slow and is trying to figure out how to move her knees once she gets on all fours. (However, she can pull herself to standing and is starting to take steps)

-Joel has a new job. No more '2 jobs, one working week'... thank the Lord!

-Between Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's and 'just because' times, we have driven between NJ and CT more than I can count.

-Charli was dedicated in church.

-I went to a wedding in Missouri- my first time spending 4 days with just Charli and no Joel, Charli's first airplane flight.

-And as if we didn't have enough excitement and change in our lives, we had an international student come live with us from Jan-June. This of course included some room changes and moving of many things that have yet to be organized and put in a home.

But not everything has changed:

-Charli still won't eat solids

- Chelsea Football Club (the cat) still wines like a baby when Charli is crying or singing... and it still results in me throwing him outside.

Probably doesn't sound like a whole lot in there but it's been exhausting and wonderful and I think I am almost done playing catch-up on life. On that note, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Valentine's Day!

Mommy Mishap

This is what happens when you assume you'll remember the Nuks you're sterilizing in boiling in water... 45 minutes later you smell burning plastic.

Who stole the cookie?

I got a prezzie in the mail from dear friends, the dearest kind of friend really, and it made me cry. It wasn't something I registered for on my fancy baby registry. It wasn't something I begged them to get me when asked if there was something I needed. It was something I mentioned I wanted to have in our home as our kids grew up. I mentioned it in passing several months ago and a few days ago it landed on my door step. A cookie jar! It's a goofy cookie jar in the form of a ceramic blue monster who looks quite endearing. It came with a 'sweet tooth' recipe book of our favorite cookies growing up from moms and grandmas and family friends and a 'Someone in Zimbabwe Loves Me' tshirt. The jar sits on my kitchen table and is stocked with snickerdoodles, the cookie that always seemed to be on hand at her house when we were kids.

I want a cookie jar in our house to help make it home for our kids. Partly because a balanced diet includes sweets and snacks and cookies are pretty traditional for both categories. But mostly to build memories. Sounds strange, I know, but it's true.

We always had a cookie jar growing up. It sat on top of our fridge and I'm not sure it was ever an actual cookie jar but it's where cookies were stored. Growing up, it was a tupperware-like container of some kind. We could only reach it if we dragged a chair across the room and stood on it, giving mom plenty of time to step in and enforce portion control. In my high school years it became (and still is) a tall white metal tin with a lid on it. A country kitchen style cookie jar. This was probably because right around that time we had 6 extra teenagers living with us, my extended family if you will. We were only supposed to have 2 cookies a day and in fact I think it was only supposed to be 2 cookies, 3 days a week. It's not that we tried to take more than we were supposed to, it's just what happened when 7 out of the 9 kids in the house could reach the cookies without a chair and all 9 of us were allowed to have friends over. It probably explains why the tin was so big and why Mom stopped making regular batches of cookies and started baking monster cookies. One batch makes 24 dozen!

Eating cookies was not a highlight of my childhood, it wasn't what memories were formed around but it definitely is a little detail of what home was for me. Cookies in the cookie jar. There weren't always cookies, in fact many times it was a treat when they were there, but they were one more way Mom gave us better than what we needed and provided not just a safe, but a comfortable, happy home. The kind where memories are made and time together is sweet because we're loved and thought of in the little ways too. That's why I want a cookie jar for my kids.

Welcome to Motherhood

I am a mom. It's validated by the precious little girl sleeping next to me right now and also by the fact that I have been trying to write this post for 12 weeks and been sidetracked by baths, feedings and diaper changes instead.

I wrote a while ago about making 'mom' decisions. In these last 12 weeks I've learned a lot. I don't know it all but here are some things I've learned so far:

1. Since Joel and I are her parents, we are the final say for all things Charlotte. If we don't protect her, we're not doing our job. If someone doesn't listen to us, they're disobeying and lose the privilege of holding her. (As you can see, this understanding makes me sassy.)

2. Parenthood has the most brutal initiation ever. It's like guerrilla warfare- learn under fire or everyone dies.

3. Becoming a mom puts you on a perpetual guilt trip. Perpetual guilt trips will make you crazy. The only way to get away from is it to yell something louder than your thoughts for the rest of your life or talk it out with whoever's around, even if it's your cat because even talking to your cat is a better option than yelling loudly for the rest of your life.

4. Everything is emotional. Everything. This is why it takes your mom 20 minutes to give you a simple yes or no. In those 20 minutes she has just relived every single painful and happy memory you've ever shared- even the ones you don't remember. She's lassoed intense emotions and talked her way back to a rational state with the truth. She then weighs your chances of succeeding in whatever endeavor you're pursuing before giving you the answer that is most likely to increase your win/loss ratio. Don't give her a hard time.

5. You need a fall guy for when all else fails, because it will. And it will render you useless to any kind of decision making. This is when you present the options to your fall guy and say "babe, which one do I want?"

Simply the best!

Wow, we're in our 37th week! I say 'we' because I've become increasingly aware of how much I've seen this as my pregnancy but it's not. It's Joel's too, he just doesn't carry the baby. He does however, carry me... a lot! Sometimes he literally carries me but he's increasingly helping me up from sitting down, bending over for me, reaching up for me, waiting for me and most of all encouraging me.

I've had a lot of supportive people making sure I'm okay but from the moment we found out, Joel has been a fully devoted parent. He was excited even before we took a test to confirm we were pregnant when I expected he'd need some time to get his mind around it all. He was the one who said I shouldn't work during the pregnancy, and to make it possible he changed his job situation. He's always thankful when he walks in the door and can smell dinner cooking and he never complains if I'm just now getting the energy to get it going. There are several times when he's offered to run out just as we're settling in for the night because I mentioned that a certain food sounds good right now. I think we've only done that once for a Frosty but he always means it.

He didn't just show up to register with me, he made it fun for both of us by stopping to pick up Starbucks and having opinions on things. (He also picked a few of his own items for the baby which is why we have this on there!)

He's paid attention to details he would normally care less about and on nights when I'm having a hard time falling asleep he'll rub my back or play with my hair to help me relax no matter how tired he is.

There's no simply way to explain who he is to me and how wonderful of a husband he is. Joel's attitude and commitment towards me, his family and our baby is the most compelling reason why I know we're going to love this adventure. Yes, things will be hard and things will go wrong but it's hard not to be excited when my partner is simply the best there is!

"Can I pop?" and other queries

I'm 32 weeks pregnant. That means there's only 8 weeks until my due date. That also means that if the baby comes a few weeks early like I've been hoping, I'll be able to breathe with full lung capacity in 6 weeks!

Yup, the breathing just keeps getting harder. About a month ago I discovered the only way to put my shoes on quickly was to hold my breath while I bent over. About 2 weeks ago I realized my lack of motivation to weed simply comes from a lack of ability to sit on the ground and bend over at the same time. Two nights ago we were watching Chicago Code and I dropped the remote control. To get it myself would have required me to:

1. Lay down sideways (bending)

2. Roll off the couch (bending)

3. Stand up straight before (believe it or not, this too requires me to bend to be able to get straight)

4. Doing a very ungraceful pregnant-lady plie (definite bending)

5. Stand up straight again so let my lungs get a fill then finally

6. Sitting back down on the couch

By the time all this would be done, I would be gasping for breath and there would be no need for the remote as all 4 minutes of advertisements would have been done and the show back on. Thank goodness for a husband who's more than willing to help with these usually-menial-now-slightly-traumatic experiences.

Yes, occasionally I have a flare for the dramatic but not in this case. Avoiding bending is simply a matter of survival right now.

You see, my stomach has extended as far out as it possibly can. There is no possible room left in there for it to be pushed forward. Because of this, I have started to grow sideways. Yup, sideways.

In spite of the baby taking up extra room on my sides, it has decided there's something about being below my belly button that it doesn't like. So it keeps it's body right about level with it- putting it's arms and legs up into my rib cage. My lungs especially enjoy this during the now-regular 4am stretches that include an extra amount of fist and foot pumping. I find myself waking up gasping for air, as one does when it's lungs get punched repeatedly.

Once I got beyond morning sickness, I've had a pretty easy pregnancy. When people try to keep me from doing daily tasks, moving things or picking things up, my mantra has been "I'm pregnant, not an invalid"... until now. Several times a day my questions about who this baby will be get interrupted by logistical questions like "The baby still has to grow. Does that mean it'll just get tighter living quarters for these last few weeks or does that mean I'm gonna pop? CAN I pop? " and "I heard this baby's supposed to begin moving lower so I can breathe? Will it do this soon so I can bend again or is this baby going to have my defiant streak in it and decide to not move lower at all despite what EVERY medical advisor says? Do I remember how to bend?"

Not so graceful, I know, just like my plies right now. But there will soon come a day when the questions will be answered or won't matter anymore. Because I'm holding our son or daughter and breathing just fine.