Mary Makes Babies

Working While Mama: Baby and Me at the R3 Prevention Summit

Disclosure: I was invited to the R3 Prevention Summit as a brand ambassador. I'm not being paid for this post, but I recieved free admission to the summit and to related VIP events. My opinions are my own.

There are a lot of different opinions out there on how your life will change after a baby is born. While I was pregnant with CC I received a lot of contradicting advice in regards to how to handle the changes to come. Some parents urged me to accept that life would never be the same, and embrace my new post-baby life whole hog, kissing the world I knew goodbye. Other parents insisted that I could keep my old life, and that I simply needed to add the baby to it. "Compromise everything!", one camp hollered, while the second camp insisted that I compromise nothing.

For the most part, I heard two philosophies: either I could adjust to baby's existence, or baby could adjust to mine. As usual, Scott Bobleo and I have found our own experience somewhere in the middle. There's no denying that CC changed our lives, and for the most part I try not to fight it. I don't sleep like I used to. I don't eat like I used to. My butt deflated. These are things that I can't change, so it feels healthier to just accept them as natural conditions of parenthood.

But then there is the rest of my life - the parts of me that were valuable to me pre-motherhood still exist, and they need to be nourished. My creativity, ambition, and sociality scream for attention with the same gusto that my baby anticipates his next meal. When it comes to those aspects of my life, I embrace the second philosophy. Rather than give up my career and my friends, I've decided to take CC along for the ride. 

 

Charlie and Auntie Heather kickin' it at the water cooler during our first day back co-working.

A photo posted by Mary Helen Leonard (@marymakesdinner) on Jul 7, 2014 at 3:58pm PDT

Since being cleared by his pediatrician for contact with the outside world, my little guy has been toted to happy hours, meetups, days of co-working, and even conferences. I'm not going to pretend that it always goes smoothly, or that we make it to every event that I want to attend. We don't. But we do OK, and we're getting better all the time. I'm lucky that he's a happy, healthy kid without a fear of strangers or new places. For the most part he does really well out in the world.

His only real issue is that he doesn't like nursing in public. He prefers to eat in a calm, quiet place - like his room at home. This was a major roadblock for a while. He'd get hungry, then cranky, then crazy, and no matter how much he wanted to eat he wouldn't nurse! I spent many MANY outings in the backseat of my car trying to nurse a screaming baby while the other adults enjoyed dinner INSIDE the restaurant.

Eventually I started using bottles during outings which made a world of difference. I pump as much as I can (which isn't all that much, but that's a story we can get into another time) and then leave the house for any major outings armed with a bottle. He still won't really settle down to eat, but he'll distractedly sip it throughout the day. It's just enough to keep him in a good mood, which is all you can really ask for when it comes to going places with a baby.

We've been going out for a few months now and our most successful day out to date would have the be the R3 Prevention Summit. I was invited as a brand ambassador to attend a preview dinner and the Summit, and asked to share my experience on my blog. It seemed like a great opportunity to share a snippet of life as a working mama - specifically a working blogger mama.

Our Trip to the R3 Prevention Summit

The event kicked off on Friday night with a cocktail party and a screening of the documentary film, Resistance. While I never like to pass up a good party (and this one had a pig roast!), and the film touched on a topic that is prime to rile me up, we didn't make it. We'd just returned from a week-long trip to my parents' place in Houston where I had been taking advantage of some serious Grandma time to work on my book. That week also involved a whole lot of Ebola-panic talk from my Dad - enough to give me a bit of a new mom anxiety attack. While I know that the topic of antibiotic resistance is incredibly important, I was fairly certain that watching a whole documentary on the subject would lead me down a quick path to cardiac arrest. 

CC and I woke up around 7:30 am on Saturday, and while 150 lucky people were attending that morning's Barre 3 Class, we were nursing, cuddling, and getting ready for our day. By 9:00 we were on the road. Baby Boy napped during the car ride, which was extra long thanks to the inevitable closed roads and traffic that seem to attend every weekend these days in downtown Austin. The delays were actually a blessing in disguise as they allowed CC to nap for more than a solid hour before we parked in the Long Center garage. I unloaded a stroller, packed up my moby wrap, and waltzed in to the event around 10:15 - just in time to see Andie MacDowell hit the stage.

Andie MacDowell was quite striking in person - a real beauty. I would have liked to pay closer attention to her thoughts on aging with grace, but the seats in front of the stage were in full sun. CC is still too little to tolerate direct sunlight, so we stuck to the shadier spots at the Summit. As luck would have it, the entire cooking demo area was shaded. Score! We caught two chef demos that day - one with Chef Sonya Cote of Eden East, and one with Shannen Tune of Hotel Derek. We also stopped by the food stands and got our snack on.

We also spent some time perusing the pillar activities. There was a fitness tent where exercise sessions seemed to be springing up throughout the day, and two smaller session sections focused on mind and body wellness. There were also tents dedicated to natural beauty and nutrition, each filled with products from Summit sponsors. The busiest tent housed chakra cleansing, reiki sessions, and henna tattoos.

I would have liked to get in on some of that new-agey goodness, but the lines stayed long throughout our stay - too long for a squirming little one. I did manage to get myself hooked up with a pretty henna tattoo. It's been years (holy wow, like more than ten years now that I think about it) since I've had henna done. It brought me back to my days of prancing naked around bonfires in upstate New York. (We'll get into that part of my personal history another time.)

Throughout the day, CC was a champ. He had a great time watching all of the lovely people and spending time in the fresh air. He spent the first half of our stay in his stroller, content to look out at the world with his ever-increasing skills of observation. He's so curious lately that I've taken to calling him "Inspector Baby". Everything he sees must be thoroughly checked out - from people to pets to random inanimate objects. The Summit was an opportunity for some serious looky-looking. Around lunch time he began to get wiggly so I moved him into his moby wrap. Facing out from his Mama, CC took in the whole event from a fresh perspective, happily bouncing along as I mingled.

Around 12:30 he started to get sleepy, so I decided to call it a day. We said our goodbyes then headed back toward the car. By the time I reached the parking garage he had nodded to sleep in his wrap, probably dreaming of Andie MacDowell doing yoga with Chef Sonya Cote. 

All that stimulation made for a slightly crankier than usual baby that evening, but all in all, our trip to the R3 Prevention Summit was a great success. CC was a real star. While I was changing his diaper that morning a woman came over to catch a glimpse of my giggling, wiggling four-month old. "Is he always this happy?!" she asked. I stopped for a moment to send a little gratitude out into the universe before telling her that yes, he pretty much is. 

Kisses

"Then let amorous kisses dwell

On our lips, begin and tell

A Thousand, and a Hundred, score

An Hundred, and a Thousand more..."

- Out of Cattalus, Richard Shaw

 

  

I kiss him constantly. (I just can't resist nuzzling his soft little cheeks.) This morning when I scooped him up in my arms and kissed his cheeks he laughed, then planted his wide open mouth on the side of my face. He clamped down for a second, and then backed off again to grin at me, squealing in delight and glowing with pride after delivering his drooly little love bite. 

 

Suddenly I realized he wasn't just sucking on my face - he was giving me a kiss. While I know theoretically that CC is his own person with his own feelings and thoughts and everything, it still slays me every time he proves it - like with today's slobbery giggly baby smooch. 

 

After that my heart exploded and I melted into a blubbering puddle of motherly adoration. How am I supposed to get anything done when someone is trying to kill me with cuteness?

Rolls on Rolls (and a Recipe for Simple Homemade Baby Powder)

I've always been a big fan of chubby babies. The pudgier the better. A week or so before my due date I visited Deep Eddy with a girlfriend and saw an adorable specimen of infant portliness. "I hope my baby is nice and fat.", I confessed to Keeley. She laughed and reassured me that my own little one would surely be the perfect chunk. 

Though Charlie started out on the extra-tiny side, he's been working very hard at making up for his low birth-weight. In four months he has more than tripled in weight. First came butt cheeks, then a round little belly. After that, Charlie's arms and legs plumped up. It was around that time that little rolls started springing up all over his body. According to my last count he had no less than three chins.

He truly is the baby of my dreams, but all of that darling chub comes with a price. Things can get awful funky inside those rolls. Keeping them clean and dry is an ongoing battle. For a while I thought cleaning them out daily would be enough, but eventually I wised up and started using baby powder too. 

Commercial baby powder is often made of talc, a surprisingly nasty ingredient linked to all kinds of horrible health issues including cancer. You can find talc-free powders from fancy-pants baby brands, but making your own is relatively cheap and easy. If yeast isn't an issue, plain cornstarch will do just fine. Adding Arrowroot Powder or Kaolin Clay makes homemade powder even better. Here's a super simple recipe for Homemade Baby Powder that you can make in about two minutes.

Simple Homemade Baby Powder

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup White Kaolin Clay
• 1/4 cup Cornstarch (or Oat Starch)
• 1/4 cup Arrowroot Powder

Directions

Whisk ingredients together, then pour them carefully into a jar or powder sifter. 

To Use

Tap a small amount into the palm of your hand, then carefully rub it onto baby's skin. Avoid baby's eyes, nose, and mouth.

If you really want to go all out, you can whip up a batch of this Aloe & Chamomile Baby Powder I created for The Natural Beauty Workshop. It includes pulverized Chamomile Flowers and Spray-Dried Aloe Vera Juice, two ingredients that are great for soothing sensitive skin.

By the way, you can find all of these ingredients (and many more) at www.FromNatureWithLove.com. If you order from them, use this code MMGOOD42. You'll get 7% off of your order, and I'll get a little commission that helps support this blog.

Sixteen and a Half Pounds of Joy

It's been seventeen weeks since a tiny naked Charlie was plopped into my arms. When he was born his entire torso was just about the length of my outstretched hands. When I hold this great big boy in my arms now, just under four months later, it's hard to believe he was ever that small.

In fact, it's still kind of hard to believe that he's even here, or that I get to keep him. I know it's corny to say, but he's almost too good to be true. I'm fairly certain that Charlie is the greatest human being ever to live - at least as far as my own little Univese is concerned.

He smiles all the time now - laughs too, and he's starting to appreciate music. He sings along when I sing to him, or when Scott plays guitar. He sits at the piano and bangs on the keys. While I have no idea how much of this behavior is purposeful and how much is coincidental, it's still pretty neat. His favorite songs for me to sing right now are Emmy Lou by a First Aid Kit and I'm a Little Tea Pot. Wheels on the Bus is another favorite. Charlie thinks that song is especially funny when his Mama uses it to make fun of his Dad. Tonight it went "The Daddy on the bus says 'That ball's loose! That ball's loose! That ball's loose! Death to the ref!'" Daddy's a Jets fan.)

Charlie has also started blowing raspberries, and can now manhandle objects with both hands. He mostly uses his newfound dexterity to chew on his beanie baby kittens and fish-hook his Mommy. Yeah, ouch. He's starting to sleep through the night but struggles more and more with naps during the day. He's been drooling, fussing, and biting his hands a lot which leads me to believe that teeth may be on the way soon. Whenever he gets cranky Scott asks Charlie why he's getting on the Fuss Bus?

Work is going a little better thanks to some new tech. I bought myself an iPad, and so far it has made it much easier to get things like writing and social media management done during the day. Carving out laptop and kitchen time for graphics and formulation is still tough, but we are making progress.

It's been a little while since I blogged last. Thats partly due to a bit of shyness on my part. I have so many feelings these days, and many of them are conflicting. On one hand I feel completely and utterly blessed. I'm madly in love with Charlie. He has me completely fascinated, entirely devoted, and bursting with joy.

At the same time I can feel myself struggling not to crumble under the combined pressures of at-home motherhood, full-time work, blogging, and writing my first book. Sometimes it's all too much. Sometimes I just want to sell my house, move out into the sticks, and say "to Hell with it all" so I can focus on Charlie-worship exclusively. In that particular fantasy I spend all my free time nibbling his little baby toes and folding laundry. Ahh, how our dreams change shape!

Other times I find myself desperate for my mother or my sister or someone to show up and just TAKE THIS BABY FOR FIVE MINUTES.

It's hard enough to feel all of these things at once - let alone write about them all. I finish a draft one day, then write something the next day only to realize the two posts completely contradict one another. Are my opinions really that fickle, or am I just short on the talent for roping it all together?

Then there's my bitchiness problem. I find that having had a baby has saddled me with an unnecessary surplus of the stuff. I catch myself rolling my eyes at people in public when they start up on a tiresome subject, narrowing my eyes when they begin to take it too far, and shutting them the hell down when I've had enough. Motherhood must have turned me into some kind of honey badger because, People, I just don't give a shit.

Go ahead and tell me how you judge on your neighbor because you think their kid is too old to still be nursing. Let loose your unsolicited parenting advice. Ring my doorbell even after I've plastered a huge sign on the door telling you not to. See what happens.

Hutzpah is great and all, but it can bring out the worst in a blogger. I've written and deleted several posts over the past few weeks after re-reading them and deciding that their psychotic mamma bear vibe was just a hair too strong. You see, I've apparently lost the ability to stop my eyes from rolling up in the back of my head whenever I hear something stupid, but I have NOT lost the common sense to edit. At least not yet.

Oh snap. It's bed time. Mama Honey Badger is OUT. I'll catch you cats on the other side of Seventeen Weeks.

 

Taking a Bath With Charlie

I was a little nervous about the whole thing. What if I dropped him? What if I slipped? What if my nudity somehow traumatized him?

These were my fears as I filled up the tub, but as soon as his little feet touched the water they were erased. His face broke into a huge smile - a look of utter joy. As I eased him into the bath he squealed and squawked in delight. Once his body was submerged he began to float, then to wriggle - as if he wanted to just swim away.

I gave him as much freedom as I could while keeping a firm grip and his head above water. He kicked and splashed - totally at home in this little wet world.

When we were done we dried off, dressed, and nursed. I held him in my arms and realized that having him was the best choice I ever made.

I wanted a baby for so long, and often when we want things so intensely we are let down when we finally get them - the reality never quite living up to the dream. It's not like that with him. Not at all. When it comes to being a Mother, the reality left my dream in the dust.

I hope I never forget the way he smiled tonight, or the way his little face reassured me. It was like he was saying "It's OK, Mama. I know how to do this."

When I stop and think about it, I guess he's been telling me that all along.

Tongue Tied: Charlie Gets a (Double!) Frenectomy

The Diagnosis

After almost three months of drama it has finally been established that little Charlie-Boy had not just one tongue tie - but two! That means that the frenulum (that little flap of skin that holds your lip and tongue to your mouth) is too short for him to manouver properly. It explains why Charlie has been gulping, biting, and pinching while nursing, even when I have him properly latched. 

It wasn't an easy road to this point. We've had differing opinions on the state of Charlie's mouth from just about everyone possible. Midwives, pediatricians, lactation consultants, and even an ENT specialist have weighed in. Finally we ended up going to see a pediatric dentist who specializes in laser frenectomy (the corrective procedure for tongue tie). She took one look in his mouth and declared him to be a level four! Not that I have any idea how many levels there are, but four sounded awfully serious.

The Procedure

The procedure was done right there in the office shortly after his examination. Handing my sweet little pumpkin over to the nurse wasn't exactly an easy thing to do - especially when I thought about what was going to happen next. A frenectomy is basically just the clipping of the frenulum. Ouch! The old school method is to perform the cut with a scissor, but there are some advantages to having it done with a laser instead. The laser instantly cautuerizes the cut, so there is little to no blood when the operation goes smoothly. It's also super accurate, allowing the dentist to correct the under-lip frenulum - a spot that ENT specialists often won't or can't treat with scissors. 

The only disadvantage of going with the laser treatment as opposed to a traditional treatment, for us, was the cost. While we do have dental insurance for Charlie the one and only pediatric laser dentist between Austin and Dallas (that I know of) was not in our network. We ended up having to pay almost $900 up front. Hopefully the dental insurance will cover a fair amount, and the dentist said that we could also submit it to our health insurance after that to maybe get a little bit more back.

The Aftermath

Whenever experts brought up getting Charlie's tongue tie corrected it was described as a really simple procedure. It would be done quickly, without a lot of blood, and without a long recovery. In our experience, we've found two out of three of those statements to hold true.

It will be done quickly: True
Though listening to my baby scream bloody murder in another room for twenty minutes was kind of awful.

There won't be a lot of blood: True
In fact, there would have been no blood at all with the laser treatment except that our little wiggle worm wasn't completely contained during the procedure and ended up with a knicked gum which bled for several minutes.

The recovery is short: False
This is where I call shennanigans. While he was able to nurse right away, this poor kid has been sore and crabby for days. He might have gotten over it by now if we didn't have to keep aggravating the wound, but we were instructed to do "exercises" on his frenulums for ten days following the procedure. Basically, I have to reach into his tiny little mouth and push on the sore spots to make sure they don't heal back together. I'm supposed to do this twice a day for several minutes each time. So far, I can only get away with about thirty seconds on each spot before he starts choking, biting and crying. After that my heart breaks into a million pieces and I die a little inside. Here's a video of what I'm meant to do:

He's also having a heck of a time navigating his new mouth. He's sucking harder, eating faster, and then spitting up all over me. Sleep is also completely out of the question. He's gone from some hard-earned 4-5 hour stretches to 45 - 90 minute sleeps. I've heard from other mamas that this gets better after about seven days. It's good to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but dang! It would have been nice to know what was coming. 

To Frenectomy or Not to Frenectomy?

In the end, the health and comfort of Charlie and I as we continue nursing should make all of this worthwhile. There have been times during the tongue tie debate where I was tempted to just let the whole thing go and just put up with the issues we were having. He COULD eat, after all, so correcting the tongue tie wasn't absolutely necessary. Then I thought about my long term goals. I'm hoping to nurse him until at least eighteen months, which would have left fifteen more months of pain, gas, and trouble. That would have been a long time for both of us. 

If all goes well, he should be healed up and nursing more efficiently in about seven more days (ten days from the procedure). He'll be able to stick his little tongue out and scoot that upper lip over the booby, forming a much better seal and moving the milk a lot easier. All of that should equal less gas, more sleep, and a pain-free nursing experience for mama. I plan to update this post in about a week to let you all know how it's going. 

Splish Splash

Charlie discovered splashing tonight! At first I thought he had slapped the water by accident. The surprised look on his face sure made it seem that way. Then when he kicked his legs I thought he must be getting upset. Tub time wasn't always his favorite thing. But no, the look on his face wasn't one of frustration or irritation - it was of wonder.

Suddenly he was wailing his arms and legs in and out of the water, splashing it all over the place. I kept waiting for a giggle or a shriek, or even just a grin to tell me he was having fun, but none ever came. He just kept his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open, seemingly in awe of his new trick.

I let him splash for a while, laughing with Scott as Charlie got water everywhere, before scooping him up into his little hooded towel.

While Charlie has developed a taste for tubby time, he certainly is NOT a fan of post tubby time. Apparently he likes being wet, but hates being damp. I thought maybe it was his wet hair that was setting him off, so I tried putting a hat on him.

As you can see, that plan went over really well.

According to The Wonder Weeks, Ol' Chuck is coming up on a major developmental leap, which may account for his recent wacko behavior. Over the past few days his napping is all over the place, his nursing is treacherous (for me at least - chomp chomp) and his mood is... mercurial.

It's kind of fascinating how these rocky times are freckled with moments like today's bath. If I look carefully I can see him changing; working things out in a new way, moving his body with more precision, and of course, getting BIGGER.

His eyes have also blossomed suddenly, allowing him to see things from all the way across the room. We often find him staring off or reaching out for things; a plate on the wall, Grandma's iPad, a pan full of cookies, the crack between the bedroom curtains, his own feet. Story time is a hit now too. Charlie loves looking at the pictures while his Grandma makes funny voices.

All of this is happening just a week away from his hitting three months. People tell you how "they grow up so fast" but geez. This feels REALLY fast. 

Om Nom Nom. Happy Breastfeeding Awareness Week

Charlie met Sophie the other day. I dangled the little rubber giraffe in front of him, and he locked eyes with her funny little face. Charlie let out a squeal of delight before bursting into a huge grin. Then he did something new. He reached out and wrapped his little fingers around her neck. A look of deep thought crossed his little brow as he paused for a moment, considering his prize. Charlie chuckled for a few seconds before shoving Sophie's head into his mouth. 

Yummy.

Watching him gave me a great idea for a B Horror Movie: Attack of the Giant Baby. The little tike could roll around town grabbing people and slowly gumming them to death. If you could see the look on Charlie's face when he's about to eat you would totally get this. 

Right before Charlie latches on he gets this crazy look in his eye. It's perfectly manaical, and sometimes it's paired with a crazed, villainous laugh. Whenever he makes that noise I know to watch out. He's about to get his nom on. 

In these instances he doesn't wait for me to latch him on. He just goes for it. Sometimes he hits the nipple, and sometimes not. I've gotten a few pretty gnarly hickeys from the times he's missed. If I go in to close for a kiss, my nose often becomes a target. The last time he did it he reached out and grabbed two handfulls of hair at the same time. (The movie, Alien, came to mind.) 

He's a good eater, this kid. From the very beginning he has been voracious. During his first month of life he cluster fed like a champion, going SEVEN hours on his longest feed. All that hard work has bumped Charlie into the 50% percentile for weight, no small feat considering he was born at less than five and a half pounds. 

Before Charlie was born I often worried about breastfeeding. Would I have enough milk? What if my baby didn't want to eat? These are all pretty common fears, or at least I think they are. I never would have guessed that my biggest breastfeeding challenge would be dealing with my tiny baby's monstrous appetite. You see, when a baby nurses around the clock he teaches your breasts to produce mass quantities of milk. Sounds great, right?

While it is certainly a blessing to produce enough milk to feed my itty bitty beefcake, it comes at a price; eternally leaking boobs (I have to sleep on a towel), mastitis, milk blisters, engorgement, and last but not least, hours on end trapped under an endlessly demanding, but all together darling little creature. It's hard. In fact, it's probably the single hardest thing for me when it comes to being a parent right now. Oh yeah, he's also started biting me. Ouch.

So why do I bother? I've asked myself this question many times - often in the middle of the night while staring at my blissfully slumbering husband. If I put Charlie on formula I'd never have to worry about pumping enough milk to leave the house alone or to catch up on my sleep. My personal freedom would be seriously expanded (and my boobs would probably throw a party). I would be lying if I told you that I wasn't tempted by that freedom, but as great as it sounds sometimes I continue to nurse.

Why? Because despite all the challenges, (the nipple abuse, the sleep deprivation, etc.) I really love nursing my baby. I love feeling his warm little body tucked up against mine. I adore the moments where he smiles at me or wraps his tiny hands around my finger. It feels good to feed him this way. It feels right and natural to me, so I keep doing it. And thankfully, as time goes on it's becoming easier to do.

There were quite a few times that I nearly gave up. I'm really glad that I didn't.

So, to all you new mamas and mamas to be: If you are planning to breastfeed, know that it's normal to feel overwhelmed at times. Each mama and baby relationship comes with its own unique set of challenges. Get help if you need it (I have needed plenty) and hang in there. It does get easier. 

Shot Through the Heart

Baby Boy got his first round of shots yesterday. It proved to be a harrowing experience for everone involved. One thing about having a baby that doesn't cry all that much - when they do let it rip it can really pull on your heart strings. He went beyond his usual waaaahhhh and into a gurgling, squalling, scream. I tried nursing him as the shots were given, but he wouldn't even take the boob. I ended up handing him over to Scott who has an uncany ability to soothe Charlie whenever he flips out. It actually makes me a little bit jealous to see Scott calm him down so easily, but I try to push that feeling out of the way to make room for grattitude. I'm thankful Charlie has such a loving Dad. 

Worse than getting the actual shots was the aftermath. Charlie has been pretty unhappy since then. He flipped out and refused to nurse last night for no apparent reason, suddenly screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of a feed. Again, Scott calmed him down and then just held him until he started acting like he was hungry again. After that, the kid nursed like there was no tomorrow. I eventually had to take him off the boob to try and coax him into sleeping. (And to save my poor aching nipples.)

This morning he woke up cranky, and has spent the entire morning parked on my chest. After nursing he didn't want to talk, play, or look around like he usually does at that time of day. He just wanted to burrow his little face into my neck and go back to sleep. So I let him, and he's been napping there ever since. 

I hope he feels better soon. I miss his smiles, and I'll be relieved when he gets back to normal. Even though I feel like we made the right choice for us and for Charlie, I can't help but feel a little nervous in the aftermath of vaccination. I feel like these decisions that have to be made can be even more painful the physical challenges we face as parents. As tired as I am, I think I'd gladly take sleep deprivation and sore arms in exchange for peace of mind. 

I guess noone can ever give that to you though. When you love someone this much the fear of them being harmed or taken away from you is just something that you have to learn to live with. That's why as much as I'd love to eat breakfast at some point today, I won't risk waking him up by moving him. Not today. Today Charlie and I will stick together.

Holy Shit. I'm a Grown-Up

I'm almost half-way through my thirties, and for the past ten or fifteen years I've been wondering when I might start feeling like an adult. I had recently come to the conclusion that the feeling was a myth - a sort of brass ring that you were always reaching for, but never actually got hold of. Even when we bought our house I felt like the adult police were going to show up at any minute to kick us out.

I figured having a kid would be about the same. Boy, was I wrong. Shortly after Charlie turned a month old I woke up and it hit me. I'm somebody's mother. It's finally happened. I'm a grown-up. I have this weird urge to try harder at life, to be better at the simple things, like laundry and bill-paying, and keeping in touch with the people I love.

Who knows if it will last, or if I'll revert to my old goofball ways after that "new baby smell" wears off.

For now, I find myself looking at things in my life differently. The decrepit state of our couch, for instance, suddenly bothers me to the point of distraction. We got it off of Craigslist when we first moved to Austin a few years back. At the time we were broker than broke, so when we scored a sofa and armchair set for just $75 we felt like we'd won the lotto. Sure, it has pretty much no inner-springs left, but so what? We couldn't afford to worry about sinking cushions at the time. 

The couch in our first Austin apartment - when we first brought it home.

Since then, the cats have enjoyed scratching the fluff from the legs, and whatever semblance of coils remained have long since disintegrated. I've always endured this man-eating piece of furniture with a touch of pride. Aren't I clever - patching the cat scratch holes with charming calico? Aren't I practical - realizing that spending money on nice furniture was futile with pets at home and kids on the way? I'm so humble - making the best out of modest means. 

Then I had a baby. And after that baby came I looked at that couch and instead of seeing quirky imperfection I saw an infuriating piece of crap. It's not the kind of couch you sit down and bounce your baby on. I tried. We sunk. The man-eater went up for free on Craigslist and I never looked back.

Of course, even all grown-up, I'm still me. And "Me" is having a hard time coming to terms with the price of new couches. We still might get the replacement on Craigslist, but so help me God, it will not sink when you sit on it. Those days, it seems, are at an end.