Duty.

So I got called to jury duty. Federal Grand Jury duty, or some such. I contemplated getting out of it, claiming "undue hardship" as I have two small children and am a stay at home Mom. I wrestled with the idea long enough to realize that I had missed my window of opportunity to send my letter to get out of it, so I decided that I would buck up and perform my civic duty as a proud citizen of our country. I was equal parts excited and annoyed.

My Mom was sweet in offering to watch the kids today, and I had a babysitter lined up for tomorrow.

I woke up at 5 to nurse Jules, get dressed, get all of my paperwork in order, and get to the train station well ahead of time. As I sat there on the train platform, waiting for my ride to center city, I felt weird. Everyone waiting with me was so......professional. High heels. Makeup. Nice suits. Leather briefcases. Blue tooth earpieces and conversations about rate and spread and conference calls. No baby-finger-smears in sight. I sat there, with my silly little canvas "purse" thing which I grabbed in a frenzy as I ran out the door when I realized that my diaper bag uniform would not be necessary.......and I felt weird. Naked, almost. I am so used to having two babies by my side to define my role of "Mother" that I felt a bit adrift on a sea of other peoples clearly defined identities. I tried for a brief moment to look important. I rustled around in my purse, and grabbed my blackberry, as though something very.important.and.critical might be on there. No. Just a text from Nate telling me that the kids were eating waffles with blueberries and strawberries. I then was appalled to see that there was also a pair of my dirty golf socks (this "purse" doubles as a golf bag on occasion), golf tees, ball markers, a sippy cup valve, a zoo parking permit, and a plastic duckie. Not kidding. I felt very Mom-ish.

The shift from "career person" to Mom is a big one. I used to actually need my blackberry to do business. I used to actually have important calls about rates, or credit, or giant costly financial transactions. Now, I have a rubber ducky and some socks and a weird fluttery nervousness about getting to where I had to be in time to be there.

I got to the courthouse on time (early in fact, if I may pat myself on the back). I texted Nate that I was there safely. He texted back "Good job baby, I was thinking that I was going to get a sobbing phone call about how stupid everything was and how you were lost". ?!?!?!?!?!? Now. I know that my sweet husband was partially joking. Partially. I have travelled across the country more times than I can count. I have had the pleasure of visiting every single state in the country, barring Hawaii. I have travelled internationally on my own many times. I consider myself reasonably intelligent and occasionally capable. Yet here I was, all proud that I had managed to get myself to the federal courthouse in Philly by 8:15 AM.

I treated myself to a egg and pork roll sandwich, and even a thing of starbursts, just to fully embrace the luxury of eating something (anything!) without hearing, "Mama, Luke want dat!" or "Mama, More!" or "Mama, special treat, Luke have dat?". I walked from the train to the courthouse and had this weird "Alice in Wonderland" feeling going on. Seeing residents in scrubs, obvious Ally McBeal types all anorexic and nervous and impeccable looking, artist looking folks, businessmen in calfskin pointy shoes. I felt as though there were a lot of things that I am not, and that, at this point in my life, I will never be. It was strange. I got to the jury room. 15 whole minutes later, we were all told that we could go home.

By 8.45, I was dismissed. By the time I caught the next train (a local, argh) home, it was 10.30 when I pulled into my driveway. My 15 minutes of "civic duty" had cost me 4 hours of my day, $14 for my ticket, and another $6 for my sandwich/candy treat.

I never wrestle with the question of "Who am I now that I am a stay at home Mom?". I love who I am as a Mother, and I feel endless gratitude that Nate and I have been able to enact our goal of having one working for money parent, and one working at home parent. I realized that it was just that, without my kids in tow, I was relatively undefinable. Sitting there on the train platform in my jeans (clean ones! those are like dress pants, these days) and my ponytail, I didn't conform neatly into a little box. I felt a little lost. I felt like I needed one of those oh-so-important ID cards around my neck, with a picture of Luke and Jules.

I like to say that I don't miss working. But, were we to take the kids out of the equation (which, clearly we cannot, as they ARE the equation) I did like some of the ~ the ~ the I don't even know what. The role. The purpose. The recognition. The box that I fit neatly inside as "career woman".

I found myself giving up on looking important, and instead sat there and looked at pics of my kids that I had saved on my phone.

Out here in my life, filled with friends who stay at home with their children, and play dates, and parks, and the like, I never question my identity, my role, my purpose. I can admit though, that sitting on that train platform today, I had a flicker of recognition of my old life, with a different role and purpose. It's not that I miss it, it's just that it brought home to me how many other people are doing such totally different things than I am. It was just a little strange.

So, in light of my strange day, here are pics that remind me of who I am these days. I am the Mom who takes bubble baths with her children. I am the Mom who loves her husband fiercely. I am the Mom who isn't very fashionable, and who can't even get a purse together without the inclusion of rubber duckies and dirty socks. But I am still a person who can get herself to center city, on time.

I'm a MOM!

"I'm a MOM". I remember having that feeling when Luke was first born. I know I even had that feeling late in my first pregnancy ~ When a fully developed baby is kicking you, keeping you awake, changing what and when you eat, and otherwise running the show formerly known as your body, you are, in a way, already a mother.

That feeling kept (and keeps) hitting me. The first time I nursed him ~ I'm a MOTHER! Introducing my parents to their first grandchild, my son. The first time we took Luke home from the hospital (yes, I admit I sat in the back seat with him for that first trek home. It just seemed so utterly impossible that this sweet little thing was actually OUR child and we were actually taking him to OUR/HIS house.). The first time I felt his head to see if he seemed feverish. The first time I took 50 or so pics of him in a single day. The first time I heard him laugh. The first time he said "Ma Ma". The first time he was crying but settled as soon as he was handed to me. The first time I rocked him to sleep in the throes of a painful ear infection. The first time he said "love ya" to me. The first scrawled crayon drawing with the name "Luke" on top that proudly adorned my fridge. The first time I caught spit up with a bare hand to save the rug I felt especially like a Mother. (The first time I tilted Jules back so that the spit up didn't even come out, I felt like a veteran Mom ;)). The first time Luke got a shot and I cried along with him. Having TWO car seats in the car really made it sink in. Not only was I a Mom, I was a Mom to a family. Trekking up to the beach like a pack animal, I knew I was a Mom. These moments are the reason that I most love having this blog. I love remembering the joy and wonder of those moments, because they are so precious, yet so fleeting.

Another such milestone occurred this week. I now wake up ahead of my kids in the morning. Sounds boring compared to hearing "I love you" from your child for the first time, but to me, somehow, it feels even more monumental. It is so practical, but its so grown up it makes me gag. (and it means that to support my new 6 or 6.30 wake up, I go to bed at 9 PM. Argh).

Anyway. Labor day weekend is upon us. Less than a week until the NFL kicks off, PSU is on this afternoon (!!) and the Phillie's are on a downswing after getting hot early in the week. I have wanted to post about fall for weeks now but have been restraining myself until it was actually September.

Sometimes I feel guilty for raising the kids in the Philly environs.......a lifetime of professional sports heartbreak lies ahead for them. Sigh.

Anyway, happy Labor Day weekend! We are off early this morning to spend the weekend with Nate's family and we can't wait. Luke has been practicing saying "Grandma and Grandpa" all week and he cant wait to show off his new mad swimming skills in the pool.

No Dilemma Here

I am utterly infatuated with the book "The Omnivore's Dilemma". A friend raved about it recently, and I had to go and get it. During the first chapter I realized that I had already read one of the authors books, "The Botany of Desire". Although my reading time is severely limited these days, I have almost finished. I wont bore anyone with my personal philosophy about food (which this book is challenging and changing as I go) but I will say that I heartily recommend that every one read this book. Seriously, get it.

Moving on. Yesterday Buddy (owner of the farm in our backyard) let me know that the corn that we had been watching grow all year is ready to eat. As Jeannie was coming over for dinner last night it seemed like the perfect opportunity to sample the wares.

Earlier yesterday as we were playing outside I told Luke that we were going to pick some ears of corn. Hence the ear grab in the photo. Smart kid. (And speaking of "Kid" I cant believe how much my oldest baby looks like a KID in that picture.)

After I had gotten the kids in pajamas we went outside for one last hurrah of play and a corn picking mission. I read a little bit while the kids played. At corn picking time, Luke helped me pluck 4 ears, and I commenced to husk them while he looked on. Finished husking, I looked down at Jules, who had excitedly made her way over to my book and was eating it. Ah! I got the book away from her and cleaned up her face, to look back at Luke, who was noshing away on the raw corn. I got that away from Luke and was throwing the bag of corn husks away, when I looked back at the blanket to find that Julia had apparently ninja rolled several times until she was off of the blanket and happily eating some grass. My little ruminate.

My views on food are being challenged. My kids ~ No such dilemma. Grass, corn, paper, its all simple and straightforward and apparently delicious to them.

Sleep

The kids have both been in bed for the night at 7 pm the last two nights. Life is good. Its enabled me to do exciting sexy things like mop the kitchen floor and do laundry. (party!). I'm not ashamed to admit that when Nate is away I fall into bed like a zombie before 9 pm most evenings. I can't make it through an entire Phillie's game to save my life.

I believe in letting my babies find their own schedule. I see it as my job to simply pay attention to and anticipate their needs, as I believe all babies naturally fall into a routine that works for them at some point in their development. Jules is apparently at that point. It happened so naturally and easily with Luke, that I was hopeful that it would with Julia also. It's different with your second child as you don't have as much time to study their schedule/needs and you are always having to still respect/work around the schedule of your first child ~ I just sortov trusted and sure enough it all came together. She takes a morning nap of about 40 minutes around 9.30, then a 2.5 hour nap in her crib from about 11 until 1.30. Then she cat naps for another 45 or so around 3....then off to bed by 6.45 or 7. She wakes once around 10 for a quick nurse, then again at 1.30, when she nurses and falls immediately back to sleep, then sleeps till between 7 and 8. I do find it amusing that they seem to be tag teaming their naps ~ Luke still takes two naps a day, so he sleeps from 9-11, Jules 11-1.30, Luke from 2-4. Hm. Fab, as it gives me lots of alone time with each of them, but leaves me in the dark as to when we are supposed to go out and do fun things. What I find is working at the moment is to take a long walk right after breakfast, get things done while Luke is napping, play outside with him while Jules is napping, and then get out of the house, to either the playground or the pool around 4. That takes care of that weird chunk of time before dinner when nerves tend to get a little thin for me.

I refuse to run errands with my kids. I think that it would be miserable for them, and miserable for me. Sometimes it means that my life is more simple than I might ideally choose. I don't always have the birthday gift or card at the appropriate time. I have put decorating our house on the back burner, even though it desperately needs it. I don't do a lot of pleasure shopping. I get my groceries delivered (which if anyone is pressed for time is simply the most wonderful thing in the world ~ free delivery specials are almost always available, and the big strapping delivery guy brings my groceries right to my kitchen island. Heaven). I have a sitter for 3 hours a week during the day, which is when I run my errands, kid free and happy.

I was talking to my friend Amy when we were down at the beach, and was asking her how she liked being a stay at home Mom. She, like me, had loved her career while she was working. She, like me, said that she loved being home with her son, and would not change it for the world. I loved her actual answer. She said that "I take being a Mom seriously. I work hard to be a good Mom. Some days that is a million times harder than working ever was." I could not agree with her more.

The Scream

So "THE SCREAM" has resurfaced. I don't know if it is teething, temper, or simple vocal exploration, but dear LORD I hate the scream.

As a result, I felt more impatient with Luke today than I have ever before in his life. Then, this afternoon I read "On the Day You Were Born" to him and wept like a baby with guilt and shame at my feelings of impatience and frustration earlier in the day. I think back to the day that this amazing little critter was born, I look at what a beautiful, healthy, sweet, guileless and helpless little creature I have been entrusted with and just weep at how woefully and entirely inept I am ~ how incapable I am of ever attaining the perfectly patient, selfless, "mother ideal" that the world tells us we should all strive to be. But I, like all mothers, continue to try, stumbling on in my imperfect way. Motherhood. Motherhood while pregnant. Motherhood while moving, and while living life to the beat of "THE SCREAM".

Toothed

Toothed:
1. (in most vertebrates) one of the hard bodies or processes usually attached in a row to each jaw, serving for the prehension and mastication of food, as weapons of attack or defense, etc., and in mammals typically composed chiefly of dentin surrounding a sensitive pulp and covered on the crown with enamel.

So my favorite little Mammal is now among the toothed. He has yet to use aforementioned tooth as a weapon or defense (and consider yourselves warned, there will MOST CERTAINLY be a post about that when he does) , but he is getting quite good at using it for the mastication of food. Woot Woot. My gummy wonder-kid is morphing into an actual person right in front of my eyes.

The process of attaining the tooth was not so much fun. We got to welcome diarrhea, slight fever, and an overwhelmingly generalized malaise to the household on Luke's behalf. We also got to experience a bout of teething induced anorexia, as trying to get food or liquid into the kid was apparently torturous to Luke. The poor kid was standing around yesterday, clinging to the coffee table and crying, then when we would look at him he would start laughing, then segway right back into crying.........again and again and again. I got to see exactly what living with a pregnant me has been like for Nate lately! Poor Nate. Someone buy the guy a bottle of scotch.

It was so sad to see my easy going and good natured kiddo trying to be his normal self.....but failing. Pretty much anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am one of the least patient people on earth. Not proud, but it's a fact. One of the things that always worried me about becoming a Mom was this crazy level of patience that my Mom, and other Moms I have seen seemed to have. I was terrified that I would be as impatient with the baby as I often time am with myself, with my computer, with the Dog, with repetition, with innocent strangers who walk too slowly in the airport or any public space, etc etc..........But I am shocked and thrilled to say that somehow I have patience with this child. It literally amazes me. Instead of getting frustrated or crazy from his fussiness, all I can think about is how my poor guy is hurting. I know I am waxing sentimental right now, and please understand that this is not intended to be a pat on the back to myself, this is simply me expressing my shock at how much Mama's love their babies. The endless diarrhea (and resulting clothing changes and laundry), the spitting up, the gross teething snot and drool.....the refusal to eat, the baby anxiety......somehow just makes me love him more.

I had a big revelation/breakthrough yesterday. Usually I do my food shopping on Mondays, with Luke. I strap him into the Bjorn and away we would go........until recently when my ever expanding belly started getting in the way ~ I can no longer use the bjorn. So the past few weeks I have been just putting Luke in the shopping cart seat. He loves it, for about the first 8 aisles. I do a lot of dancing around, singing, coming up with relatively safe things to let him chew on/play with etc.....generally I look like a fool but it keeps the kid happy until we get to the last few aisles. Then some shrieks usually start. By the time I unload the contents of the cart (working around my belly) while keeping Luke from stage diving out of the cart, then get the bags back into the cart, from the cart to the car, from the car to the house, and from the bags to the fridge, I am usually utterly miserable. I'm cranky just reading about it.

Anyway, my breakthrough came yesterday, when I realized that I have a HUSBAND! Who just happens to be Luke's DAD! Sooooo, I went off to the grocery store solo, while Luke and Nate hung out at the house. I am entirely embarrassed to admit how wonderful it was. I took my time. I even THOUGHT a few times! I lingered in front of the produce, actually able to THINK about what I wanted and needed for the week! I didn't sing one stupid made up song out loud! I didn't break a sweat! I am usually so busy trying to do everything on my own that I don't do a good job of asking for help. I have a new retreat, its called the grocery store. I think that I'm going to really milk this and start driving to Wegman's to prolong my experience. And if you see me at the grocery store starting off into space in the veggie aisle, please don't disturb me, its as close to meditation as I get these days.

My Siamese Twin

This is Luke's new favorite place to play in the mornings. My son is totally enthralled with his reflection. He laughs out loud when he first stands up and sees himself, then immediately leans in for a long passionate mirror kiss with his better half. He will play there by himself for a good 15 or 20 minutes. I can't even believe how quickly this "standing" thing has become a part of our life. Crawling, I felt ready for, standing....not so much. It results in a few loud head crashes a day now, which are hard on both Mom and baby. He climbs up the dishwasher, the baby gate, the coffee table, and any and every freestanding object on the floor (like Nate's toolbox in the pic above, which he then proceeded to climb OVER to get to the next object of his attention, the unopened paint cans behind them) He is Luke, Monkey Boy extraordinaire.

I am still not really better from the weekend. This is starting to get long, and annoying.

Tonight I am getting out with Jeannie and going to Carolines SL Party.......(Hi J and Luke says CONGRATS again on making PARTNER!!! He is so proud of you ;)
Nate is staying home with the critter. Isn't it funny that Nate is "watching the baby" ~ If Nate goes out no one asks if Melissa is home "watching the baby" ~ or asks if I "watch the baby" all day long. But somehow when a Dad is the one home with their child they are "watching" them, like a babysitter. Its funny.

101 Ways to Stop Enabling Your Serial Killer Son

I made the mistake of wandering into the parenting section of the bookstore yesterday. As Luke is beginning to venture into the wide world of food, I wanted to buy a good book on making my own baby food. Don't laugh you been there, done that Moms who read this! I well know that this may be a great idea for, like, 2 weeks, then I will tire of it and just get the premade stuff at the grocery store ~ but humor me here. I just may like it.

Anyway.

I have to say that this was my first experience wandering around the parenting section. My jaw was on the floor. I simply had no idea. I know I'm a parent now, but apparently I am supposed to know exactly what SORT of parent I am. I am supposed to have a SYSTEM, a THEOLOGY of parenting, I am supposed to belong to some METHOD. Who knew!? In case you don't know what I am talking about, let me fill you in on a couple of titles:
*Connection Parenting
*The Science of Parenting
*Sacred Parenting
*Parenting your Children: Systematic Training for Effective Parenting of Children Under 6 (this also works for puppies ;)
*Positive Parenting
*Revolutionary Parenting (how very WILD :)
*The Attachment Parenting Book
*Grace Based Parenting
*Playful Parenting
*Unconditional Parenting
*Parenting beyond Belief
*Scream Free Parenting

And that's just deciding on your parenting GENRE!~ Once you do that there is still the "raising your child" section, for example:

*Raising Good Children
*Raising Kids You Can Live With
*Raising Resilient Children
*Raising Children who Think For Themselves
*Raising Charitable Children
*Raising Children Compassionately
*Raising Children Bilingually
*Raising Vegetarian Children
*Raising Confident Boys
and who could ever leave the classic "Raising Children in a Socially Toxic Environment" on the shelf? Now, is is just me or is your first thought also ~ "Well, um, how about you just get them out of the socially toxic environment???

Don't even get me started on all of the "How to fix your child once your THEOLOGY didn't work" books ~ by the time I got to that section I was covering Luke's eyes in the Bjorn (I don't think that he can read yet, but I wasn't taking any chances). I want him to have no advance knowledge of all of the ways I am apparently on the brink of damaging him for life due to my lack of a parenting philosophy.

Am I terribly naive or just achingly normal? I think that parents have been raising children from the dawn of time. Do I have to attach a label to my desire to love and cherish my Son? Do I have to sign up for a special magazine or book on tape to want him to love family, to be a good friend, to work hard and play just as hard? Do I need a "systematic training" method to want him to love God, be confident and outgoing and maybe play in the PGA tour someday? Just kidding on that last one of course. Right now I could use a book on "How to Get your 5 month Old to Get Over His Fascination With the Keyboard in 12 Easy Scream Free Steps". Guess I better head back to the bookstore.

Screech

So Luke is learning the power of his voice. The SCREECH is the newest addition to hie repertoire of noises. Sometimes used in annoyance, and sometimes in joy, he is suddenly tossing it into his routine several times a day. Its very cute, like, once. Maybe even three times. After that I wish I could "un-learn" him of it. Part of me is starting to wonder if I am creating this ~ thinking back over our past couple of weeks I have realized that Nate has been away a lot. When he is away, Luke spends every moment of his day with Mom, shopping, running errands, talking walks, and spending LOTS of time with other women. Just this week he had lunch on Monday with Colleen, Jen and Maryanne, Playgroup with about 10 girls on Tues, Dinner with Dee, Lunch with Joanne and Colleen H on Wed....today we hit up nursing group (about 40 women) and Mom Mom's ~ then tomorrow lunch with Jeannie. Each day he has also been to the gym, where about 10 female daycare girls fawn over him while I am working out. Perhaps his little man screech is simply a revolt against all of the female voices constantly clattering on around him? His own little version of "hear me roar"? I doubt it, but its fun to think about. He even spent an hour at the salon yesterday while I got my haircut. My intent was to hold him, but he was liberally passed around amongst the stylists. The life of Luke. Lotsa women. Maybe Nate will have to take him to Hooters, or a monster truck thing (What DO monster trucks DO anyhow? Race, Rally? Something?) over the weekend to restore some balance. You know, now that my mind has wandered down this road, I have a perfect solution!!! We are going to Stroudsburg this weekend ~ Nate could simply take Luke GOLFING. Check this story out

http://www.newsday.com/news/nationworld/nation/all-mailbox-wyv84g5-j7sx1-j1jrl-j.5915729jun27,0,2979756.story

~~~Now THAT would get the critter back in the swing, so to speak. Sheesh.
One quick mention of the life of Mulligan. I accidentally shamed my Dog into doing something disgusting yesterday. I woke up early to come downstairs and get the coffee going.....as I was walking to the steps I spied a pile of dog throw up on the bathroom floor. I said "Jeez Mulligan, are you KIDDING ME?" and looked back at the dog, who was standing at the door to our bedroom. (Yes, that was edited for language :)) Mully looked ashamed, and I thought no more of it. Went to make the coffee, got paper towels and some sort of dog vomit appropriate cleaner, and came back up to face the task at hand. Mulligan was sitting on the steps waiting for me, sheepishly wagging his tail. I patted him on the head, and went into the bathroom, and stopped dead in my tracks. The aforementioned "issue" was gone. Totally gone. Apparently my disgust somehow shamed the poor creature into taking it upon himself to clean up the offending pile. I gagged, went back to bed to cuddle with Luke, and made a pointed effort to steer clear of his mouth and beard for the rest of the day. Ugh. I do love my dog, but sometimes they are just such............dogs.

Mom Mistakes

So at playgroup last week we were commiserating about mistakes we have all made as Moms, or ways that other people make us feel as though we don't know what is going on with our own baby (i.e the relative who constantly says "I think that baby is hungry" ~ all the time, even if its moments after you finished nursing them). Luckily I don't have to deal with the bossy relative thing at all, but the mistake part made me laugh out loud thinking of something that I did when Luke was maybe 7 or 8 weeks old. It was one of those first lovely spring days, sunny and warm. Luke was at the point where he had the head control to face out in the Bjorn. I decided to take Mulligan and the baby and head out for a walk. I got Luke into the Bjorn, grabbed the leash, and headed out. Birds were singing, the trees were really just coming into full leaf, and it was a positively lovely day. I was out with my boys, my son and my dog, and all was right with the world. I loved the sweet glances of strangers, the looks, the smiles. Everybody loves a little baby, and they attract a lot of attention as you are out and about. I just remember feeling so put together, so happy, large and in charge. Me and my newborn taking on the world.
We eventually wandered up to Gay St, the heart of town. So many people were looking at the baby, looking at the Dog, smiling at me. I felt like the Mayor or something.
As we walked by Iron Hill there were lots of people outside eating at the sidewalk tables. One woman looked at me and said "Oh, sweetie, one of his legs is stuck inside the Bjorn ~ I'm not trying to butt in but I'm a Mom too and have had the same thing happen ~ I just wanted you to know"..........
I turned and looked at our reflection in the windows, and sure enough ~ there it was ~ me and my one legged baby, stumpy. Luke seemed totally unfazed by it, but I know I got red in the face. I just had to start laughing as I finagled his leg out of the hole into its proper place, hanging next to the other leg. All of those sweet glances that I got were probably people thinking "Wow, look at that Mom and that one legged baby! She seems so happy even though that cute baby only has one leg!! Good for them!!!"
It still makes me laugh thinking about it. Proud Mama and Stumpy, her kid.

If I ever see a Mom with a baby stuck in his Bjorn incorrectly, I will help her out. I've been there.

"He's Coming"

So I just left our bed, where my son and husband are sleeping next to one another. As I kissed Luke's head before I cam downstairs I got a little whiff of heaven. I know people talk about how babies smell all the time, but until you actually know the scent of your own child you have no idea what they are really talking about.

Last night I woke up around 2 am, hearing some different sort of noises from Luke's room. We don't use a monitor as he is right next door, and even though I sleep soundly, I must always be half listening in on him, even in my sleep. I went into his room and promptly found out the cause, he had flipped over onto his tummy and was laying there proudly looking all around and singing a victory song. He has been rolling from front to back since 7 weeks, and just started with back to front rolling about a week ago. This was the first time that he had done it in his crib though. I nursed him and we both went back to bed, he to his, me to mine. This morning when I told Nate what had happened, the first thing he said was "HE'S COMING". I asked what he meant and he said that the next thing we knew he would be halfway down the hall on his own. I love the image that created in my head....Luke flailing around until he figured out how to get his rotund little body from back to front, in preparation of crawling, and pulling up, and one day climbing over the rails of his crib or bed and running into our bed. I have to say, that I simply don't know how single Mom's do it, this parenting thing. I mean, I can figure it out from a logistical perspective, and, as Nate travels a lot I understand how they can physically take care of a baby solo ~ but what I don't understand is how they miss out on the funny, crazy perspective that a father offers ~ the little goofy things that the Dad's do along the way (Like Nate referring to the bulb syringe as the Plunger, or being happy when Luke cried when we took his temp because, "at least we know he's not gay" or, for taking the picture above), and the way that it makes me love my baby AND my husband even more when I see them laughing together or Nate changing Luke's diaper. Nothing makes me happier than to see my boy's hanging out together. Luke follows Nate around with his eyes whenever he is in the room, and its the coolest thing I have ever seen. The 40 weeks that I carried around Luke in my belly gave me a head start on the bonding thing. Even though Nate was enthralled with the first little kicks, and later the giant rolling freakish alien~esque morphing of my belly ~ I think that the whole concept of "that's our baby doing that" truly can't set in until the little critter is actually physically here for most Dad's.
In other news, I dragged poor Luke to the Lilly Pulitzer sale in Valley Forge yesterday. Dear Lord. Thousands of hot pink and lime green clad women DESCEND upon the Valley Forge Convention Center for this once a year event. It was my first time going, when I was working it always just seemed like too much of a hassle to get there and stand in line simply to shop. Mom and I headed over there yesterday afternoon with Luke safely ensconced in the Bjorn on my chest. I am currently wading through the murky waters of wardrobe adjustment. Both in terms of size and lifestyle. I no longer have a career and have not yet determined what genre of stay at home Mom I am. Am I sporty Mom? The one you see at the grocery store in her cute little perfectly coordinated workout garb, fresh from a Pilate's class? Or maybe I am a "ladies who lunch Mom" who should be in my sweater set and little pleated skirt while I drag my child with a page boy haircut from store to store along the main line? (ugh). There is always "tornado Mom" ~ the disheveled wreck, but I just cant go there until I have 3 kids in tow. "Hippy Mom" is just an era gone by for me. "Sexy Mom" is out ~ I simply just have no interest at the moment of trotting around in the high heels that litter my closet. It just does not make sense when I have 16 lbs strapped to my chest. Podiatrists DREAM right there. Anyway, as I navigate the waters of a changing persona I thought that maybe some cute little Lilly skirts might come in handy. We did well at the sale,and I got a lot of stuff......and at one point had to sit on the floor pretty much baring all to nurse my hungry son. This indignity was quickly forgotten when we saw the line to the makeshift "fitting room"..... rather than stand in a 40 person line simply to try on clothes we instead opted to get nekkid with about 50 other women and all dropped trou right there in a corner of the convention center. Mom became my mirror as I decided what to buy. Lesson learned ~ when going to the Lilly sale, wear your Grannie undies. This will make the public humiliation of sharing semi nudity with strangers slightly more bearable. Oh Luke. Be glad that you are a boy. AND, be glad that Lilly does not make little boy clothes, your college fund is fatter for it.