Falling in Love

I have officially fallen in love with Little Mister. Specifically, it happened yesterday afternoon. For those of you without children, this statement probably raises some eyebrows. After all, it has been nearly 8 weeks since the little guy was born. Didn't I love him already? And the answer is, without a doubt, yes. I loved him before he was born. I knew his demeanor before he arrived - I had even correctly guessed at his preferred fetal position. And once he was here, I would have stopped a speeding train on his behalf if possible. But...

...there is a real biological reason that the body excretes a so-called "love hormone" upon the emergence of a child who has been born via unmedicated vaginal birth (and I'm going to refer to this experience not because I judge those who went any other route to bring about your child, but because that is the road I myself have traveled twice). For the first several hazy crazy weeks of an infant's life, he's a fragile, floppy, sleeping pooping being who wants and needs to be constantly attached to my breasts. My breasts which are sore and huge and leaky and even bleeding. The newborn's most secure place is with his exhausted mother - he just spent three seasons inside her, after all - and his mother will forego hours upon hours of sleep to ensure his security and wellbeing. When the mother wants to go places, it's with the knowledge that there is a ticking feeding timer alongside, and for me, this time, there's also a lovely but moody two-year-old in tow. As my last post indicated, it's safe to say that time has passed without my realizing it or knowing where it went. All I know is that this hamster wheel of a summer that I've been at times riding, at other times driving, has started to slow its pace a bit, and Little Mister and I have finally had the chance to start to know one another as people rather than as the hungry one and the food source.

I know nothing scientific about the ebb and flow of a postpartum woman's hormones, but I'd be willing to bet that something changes between 6 and 8 weeks out from the birth of her child. At least for me, and anecdotally for others I know, now is the time that the magic starts to happen and my baby becomes a person to me. He smiles at me. He stays awake for longer periods. He naps! He maintains a semi-respectable schedule of meals, within reason. Not only does Little Mister make sounds, but I know what they all mean, and they are all adorable! He even makes sounds in order to "converse" with the family. And he's not so floppy anymore. He's becoming his own little sturdy self, still incredibly snuggly and soft, and vulnerable, but he's a solid little guy too. He responds to my touch not just in an instinctual way, but in the way a person who likes me - a lot! - responds...

And I love him. Last evening, as I watched him roll around on the floor and respond to the Bean and my smiles and voices, I knew that the moment had arrived. My heart has leapt out of my body and I love him. Dearest Little Mister, thank you for being here, and thank you for letting me know you and help you as you grow into the one and only you.

Today

So for the  majority of my life, I'm a working mom. I get up in the morning, go to work, come home, have dinner, go to bed. My kids are with me for all but the go to work part, which represents the majority of my day, which means that the majority of their days are spent somewhere else in someone else's care. I'm OK with this most of the time because I've come to own this as who I am and I truly believe that I'm an excellent mother. And my kids will know their mother works...

except for right now. Mister O came along, and I decided I'd take an extra long leave to be a stay-at-home mom. (I also believe this to qualify for the title "working mom." Hopefully after reading this post you'll agree.) I did this when Bean was born too - stayed home for four months with her. By the end, I felt that I was in my element, a domestic queen ruling her domain...and then I went back to work. This time, I'm home for seven months with a work at home project thrown in the middle of it. Currently, I'm home with both kids at the very same time all day most days. And it's no wonder that the time has flown right by this summer. Here's a sample day. Today, actually, if I can remember it now.

So, this morning, after feeding Mister O., showering while B fed the Bean, and throwing on some clothes and half-drying my hair, I came downstairs to a kitchen that looked like this:

I wasn't exactly surprised - it had of course looked that way last night too - but it annoyed me. I sighed and headed for the coffee maker (not pictured) and navigated the maze of dirty bowls and recyclables to put my toast in the toaster.

As soon as I put my breakfast on the table, Bean abandoned her post there. She was anxious to get outside and help me spread the remainder of a straw bale on the garden. I was pretty excited about this being her idea. I hadn't counted on getting any more garden work done today, but here she was, proposing it. I asked her to wait, ate my breakfast, and we headed outside. Mister O remained just inside the screen door in his bucket seat on the kitchen table. I said a silent prayer that he'd remain content.

Upon reaching the garden, Bean noted that everything was still wet and we had a lesson about what dew is. I commenced to pull some weeds to clear ground on which to throw the straw. Bean went off on her own to play. Perfect, I thought. Even if she doesn't help, we're out here and I can get some stuff done! Fast forward about 5 minutes: Mister O. was fussy and Bean decided it was too cold to be outside. Another sigh from me, and we headed indoors. My eyes were now on the clock, as we had a 10 a.m. playdate at the local park, which involved getting the Bean into swim gear and packing a picnic.

By now it was about 8:30, and the Bean requested stories. Great idea! I praised and rewarded her request until 9, when it was time to prepare for the park. I needed some time to make our lunches, and then it takes at least a half hour to gather all troops, potty, and shove bodies and gear into the car. I also fed Mister O. at some point.

All loaded up, we headed to the park. I drove us all the way there, only to realize we had no diaper bag. I decided to take my chances. We wandered around the park, Bean in her swimsuit, and awaited our playmates. I feel that I should also mention it was 59 degrees outside this morning. OUr friends soon called - change of plans. I was proud of the Bean for receiving the information fairly well. She's not so good at flexibility these days, since her brother arrived and stole the Mommy show. But we both made it to the car, and then to Chik-fil-a in a happy mood. We even stopped for gas, where I helped the Bean out of her suit and into her clothes while the tank filled up. Mister O. slept - thank you, Mister O.!

After lunch and playing and some conversation among moms at Chik-fil-a we headed home where Bean actually did eat her lunch. Then stories and a Mister O. feed, and a nap, from which there were ZERO WALK-BACKS THANK YOU VERY MUCH. (this is a huge victory for me - it doesn't happen often and Bean has been more than trying at sleep time)

And then I proceeded to get ready for a trip to the pool, an opportunity that serendipitously arose as I G-chatted with another working mom friend this afternoon. By 4:10, I had woken the Bean, fed Mister O., gotten all of us dressed, packed our bags, and loaded into the car again to go to the pool...where I got to sit still for a few minutes while the Bean played happily in the water and O slept. I also noted that these days are numbered - my friend spent the time chasing after her youngest while keeping track of the oldest's behavior choices. She did not sit still.

Then it was home, supper, tele, stories, bath, be...no. not bed. There was an hourlong battle with the Bean, fraught with tears, over staying in bed. And then there was feeding Mister O., and putting him into his bed. I also did some laundry and the dishes at some point. A pile of clutter destined for the basement made it down there too. And now there's this rambling post telling you about all of it.

Why? Because this is life, and I want to capture it. And just as I can barely remember the details of today anymore, I know that very soon this entire season of life will be just a tiny drop in the bucket of my memory. It is a crazy, chaotic, happy, stressful time, and I know that it's cliche to say so, but I truly would not trade it. Motherhood in all of its messiness and dirty dishes and tantrum refereeing is beautiful.

Now excuse me, while I collapse into bed.

July 4 : One Month Old

Owen is one month old today. The time has flown - it's true that baby time runs at its own pace. It's long and fast all at once. Add to it toddler time and you're off to the races!

Owen is a sweet boy, mild mannered but alert and so very eager to move. He is STRONG, holding his head up high while on his tummy and kicking his legs with vigor. Every medical professional who's tried to examine him has commented on his strength. He wants to take in the world and explore, even at this fresh age. His eyes are often open, and he tunes into the voices of his Momma, Daddy, and Bean. And he's a snuggler. He'll take his little nose and nuzzle it into my neck, letting out this adorable little sigh. He's even beginning to coo, and we can tell that a genuine smile is just around the corner. In the middle of the chaos of adapting to life as a Momma of two, one of whom is rightly feeling a bit salty about all of this, Owen is a calm place to settle for a moment. It's safe to say we're in love. Happy one month, Little Mister.

And because we love comparisons...

Siblings

Ever since Owen was laid in my arms, I've been struck by how much he seems to resemble his big sister. Same little sweet mouth, button noses, dimples forming, and even similar preferences for body positioning when resting.

Recently, I received the proofs from a newborn photos shoot of Owen. I was floored by how very similar the two children are. So much so that one photo of Owen immediately brought to mind an almost identical one of the Bean (two different photographers, at that!).

Check it out! These two could be twins!

The Bean was a bit more bird-like and, well, feminine, while Owen is definitely a solid chunk of a boy (Bean was almost 2 months in the photo, while Owen was 2.5 weeks). But the resemblance is unmistakeable. I cannot wait to watch these two peas in a pod (beans on the vine?) grow up together.