Feasting

A little breakfast on Christmas Eve morning sans shirt...is there anything more enjoyable? Nope.

Melon Anyone?

The best part of holiday shopping? Lunch.

The Fog Is Lifting

Hello! I've been a little pre-occupied and unable to blog. I fought off this rather unpleasant breast infection (that's all I will share with you about that, don't worry) and needed to rest and get healthy. Then my in-laws came for a visit. And then on Saturday I did the unthinkable--

I traveled 2500 miles by air hauling two carry-ons, one huge infant car seat and one huge infant all by myself. That's right, LAX to ORD just me and The Boy who seriously is half my size. What can I say, I like to suffer! Of course the anxiety of conquering this feat set in minutes after purchasing my plane tickets. 4 hours on a plane with a highly active boy? Am I nutso? Well yes. But I really wanted to come home early and see my family. In today's age of flying it is impossible to do it without all these baby accessories unfortunately. One bag was filled with diapers, toys and food galore just for The Boy. Actually the other bag was filled with these necessities as well. For me? One magazine that I got to read for 30 minutes while he slept. And I did it and now never have to do it again I hope. And if I can do that then I can do all sorts of other things. I may go sign up to take the Bar exam without attending any law school whatsoever, that's how confident I now feel.

This Christmas is so different from last year. To be honest, I don't really remember last year's holiday, it's really odd and somewhat frightening. I was soooo pregnant and uncomfortable with my massive body and freezing apartment that I seem to have blocked a lot out. This, however, is a year I'm pretty sure I will never forget. The Boy's first Christmas! The Boy's first New Year's! The Boy, The Boy, The Boy! It feels good.

Self-

Hello! Becoming a mother has made me two things -- selfless and self-centered. Just writing that statement is an example of these extremes I now exhibit. Interactions with others cannot take place without me talking about my mommy trials, tribulations and triumphs. However, having such little free time to myself makes these interactions rare. Now that I think about it, I should adjust "self-centered" to "boy-centered." When asked what is going on in my life that's just for me, I typically cock my head back and forth like a dog attempting to understand human language. Huh? What? Me without The Boy? I'm not following this communication, woof woof.

Yes, yes, boy-centered is much more appropriate. When the garbage men are outside with their loud banging all I can think is, So help me if they wake The Boy up!!! These are the same men who haul all the dirty diapers away too, I really should cut them some slack. And when the dude next door is too loud while he watches any number of sporting events I begin to seethe with rage. He's going to wake The Boy up again over football!? Come on! I suppose now he'll be smoking a cigarette off his balcony and smoke will make it's way into our home and The Boy's lungs yet again! It's as if these people must cater to my mommy demands or there's hell to pay. God forbid a fire engine barrel down the street to help someone in distress, it might wake up The Boy!

Extreme, I know. Except for that smoking part-- I tire of having our windows closed when it's 70 degrees out in December but the alternative would be like living in a hookah bar with the amount that dude smokes. But enough about the neighbor, let's talk about me for a change. So I can't decide what to get The Boy for Christmas...

Apartment Hiking

The Boy cannot be trusted. It's a good thing really that he's so active, however, it makes frivolous tasks like cooking dinner, washing dishes and vacuuming virtually impossible. Put him down in the middle of an empire of toys, turn your back for half a second and he will already be crawling up the TV stand/pointy cornered desk/garbage can/etc. We've resorted to putting him in a backpack on Mr. Jarcy and it works out very well. (Well with the exception of Mr. Jarcy's aching back.) We also ordered a holding pen for him. It's a very nice and not so cheap but terribly tacky play yard and hopefully it will show up soon! I'd love to start the coffee in the morning without having to worry if he's headed toward the kitty litter while I grind the beans.

Moments Of Bliss

There are moments in your life you know you will cherish forever even when that moment is occurring. Those are so special, aren't they? One of mine is the night before I got married. I don't need a picture to recall that experience, it is perfectly clear in my memory...the clear and starry sky, the calm before the storm (literally and figuratively), the pier stretching out into the ocean...ah, it's like I'm there again and for just a moment in time all is perfect.

I had another perfect night only this time with another boy, as in The Boy. Do you know that famous painting by Gustav Klimt of a woman and child embracing, sleeping side by side? Well, I have always loved that painting. It's hung in my many apartments--a replica that is--long before I had a child. The other night The Boy could not fall asleep and we had our own Klimt moment in time.

He was tired (it's a given I was) and it was close to midnight. His ouchie teething made him extremely alert. After many failed attempts to calm and put him to sleep I laid down with him, stroked his hair (how he has so much already I have no clue) and held his head close to my heart. I massaged his little hands, his muscly arms, his big Buddha belly. I kissed his perfectly smooth forehead and rubbed his little chunky feet. As a result, he sunk right into my side and fell asleep. He even giggled about something which is how he laughed for the first time at just a couple of months old--asleep. It must have been so soothing to go back to hearing my heartbeat again. He spent all those months growing in me and being lulled by my goofy heartbeat from my deformed heart (it beats lub swoosh instead of lub dub). We were just like the Klimt painting (only I had a top on). A moment of bliss, mama and baby. I thanked the heavens above for him even more than normal and felt so profoundly lucky to have such a gift in my life.

Some day he'll be 15 and the words "Mom" and "cuddle" will have nothing to do with each other. That's when I'll have to resort back to cuddling with his father I imagine. And the following night he clubbed me in the eye with a plastic key toy so hard that it's still bruised. We may be closer to 15 than I realize. But no matter what I will forever have our Klimt night to hold onto. Pure bliss.

Bath Time!

"Why this woman bathes me in a giant, inflated duck is beyond me."