Happy New Year

I've waited seven days to write this post, for fear that if I wrote too soon I would jinx it.



Tallulah is asleep. In her crib. Since 9pm.



She started doing this last Monday. Last Saturday she woke up in our bed at 4am. I tried putting her back to sleep for almost two hours, and finally gave up and put her in her room to play. That didn't work, but I went on strike, so her father had to tend to her. Her dressed her and they went out for a drive. She slept for twenty minutes. When I woke up at around 11 am, Tallu was still awake, giggling and playing. Sunday was the last night she slept in the family bed.



I was going to write that she's been sleeping through the night, but now she's up and crying. Her father is now walking her up and down the hallway to put her back to sleep. So, until tonight, she was sleeping through the night.



How do I get her down for the night? Here's the routine. Tallu has dinner- some solid food. She plays and, depending on how dirty she is, takes a bath. I plug in her humidifier, turn on her rainforest nightlight and put her in the crib. She starts to cry. I climb in the crib and nurse her. (Yes, I CLIMB into the crib!) She falls asleep, I climb out of the crib.



My mom laughed when I told her that I have to climb into the crib with Tallu. She asked if the crib was strong enough to hold the both of us. Yes, the crib is sturdy enough to hold the both of us. I'm not sleeping there for the night. I figure there are plenty of babies who have that last bottle of the night in the crib, so why can't Tallu have her last booby of the night i n the crib?



The baby monitor is a horrible invention. I was up for hours listening to it, making sure no one had broken into our house and was chillin in her room, or making sure the whimpers didn't turn into full on crying. The good news is that no one has broken into her room. The better news is that I am not waking up in the middle of the night needing to nurse, so we've managed to night-wean. So, Tallulah is starting to eat solids, she's sleeping in her crib, and the all-night buffet is closed. I think my husband is very happy to not have his face kicked in the middle of the night, and to have his half of the bed again. I am trying to get used to having my half of the bed to myself.

Tallu's crying an awful lot. I guess the stroll didnt work. So much for this post...

So I'm thinking...

...that I may have made a mistake. The baby's not the mistake, I just got the timing wrong. And I was a fool to think being a stay at home mom was the best thing for the both of us.

It could be the exhaustion talking, the over-exposure of stay-at-home motherhood. It's 3:30pm on Sunday, and I'm hiding in my bedroom, while Tallu and her father hang out. I'm hungry, but I don't want to go into the kitchen, because I'm afraid that she'll see me and want me to come to her. Yes, I am hiding from a nine month old!

This week has been especially hard. Tallu has bitten my teets more times than I'd like to count. She's teething- her top two are coming down. But why does she have to bite me? What did I ever do to her?! She won't take a pacifier to chew. I say no when she bites, and I've even stopped a feeding if she bites me. It's not working. I guess this is the point where all the ladies chime in: "It's time to wean, because it's only going to get worse!"

I need to get away from the baby, I need to get some income, and I need to do this now. Have I said this before?

Baking and (Teething) Babies Don't Mix

The best piece of advice my dad gave me in the kitchen was to be patient when you bake. I forgot that when I tried to make lemon drops for a church function last week. I wasn't at peace when I creamed the butter for these sugar cookies. The cookies spread way too much, and the dough was unsalvageable for cookies. I ended up bringing store bought cookies to church this past Sunday.

But the overcreamed dough was still sitting in my fridge until yesterday. My first fix were aluminum foil circles I fashioned, to keep the dough from spreading. It didn't work as well as I hoped. The mini-muffin pan I found in my pantry worked much better. When I upped the baking time by four minutes, my lemon muffkies were baked. It was a pretty good solution, and I didn't have to throw any of that cookie dough-turned-batter away.

Fast forward to yesterday...I am in the kitchen, again with the cookies. This time I'm making a test batch for the Christmas gifts my husband and I give each year. Talllu's two bottom front teeth are in, but she must be working on some more teeth. She's gnawing on toys, screaming, and crying, while I'm underworking the mixer. I'm growling at the mixer, asking it and the kitchen itself why my daughter refuses to let me get any work done in here? I let her cry a little, yelling: "I'm coming, I'm coming, just let me get the sugar in, okay?" I fling myself from the kitchen and swoop down to rescue Tallu from the playpen. She goes from "wah wah wah" to "ha ha ha" in five seconds. We hug, and I bring her chair and some toys into the kitchen, hoping this change in scenery would satisfy her.

I manage to beat in the egg, baking powder, salt, and baking soda before she starts screaming again. I push through to mixing in the flour, as I'm calling the recipients of these cookies all kinds of bitches and motherfuckers, I realize I needed to step away from the mixer. I get the baby. She calmed down, but I am not so eager to hug and smooch. I beg her to just let me stir in the chips and cherries and get one dozen in the oven. Tallu wasn't having it, and I barely get the mix-ins mixed in. Now I'm singing the "Me-Me-Me" song to Tallu as I rest her on my hip, turn off my preheated oven, and stash my parchment covered cookie sheet.

The "Me-Me-Me" song is an ad-lib, but it's chorus is the same: "Me Me Me Me Me Me MEEEEE!" Tallu thinks it's hilarious, and it reminds me that when I get upset because I can't get shit done, there is a good reason. I told my husband about my ordeal as I finally put a batch of cookies in the oven, and we agreed that this year's baking marathon will involve one person watching Tallu as the other one mixes and bakes.

The cookies held their shape, so there will be cookies for gifts after all. No thanks to Tallulah, my cranky, teething baking assistant :-D

Quick Update

tallu has two teeth! she's also waving hello now. the waving is at its cutest when she's nursing in the early morning- she waves to me in her sleep while eating :-) she's been eating dinner since monday, and thanks to her father, she's a much neater eater. and she likes to stand up, with help of course. it's 2 am...i should join my family in sleepyville...

party all the time

The family had a busy weekend. My husband was in a parade last Friday, which my daughter and I attended. The parade was short, but the drummers were all warmed up, so we went to an afterparty where they kept playing. It was loud, but good god it was fun! We didn't leave until almost midnight, but Tallu was well occupied. There were so many drums to watch, so many people to dance with, a pretzel rod to suck on, milk to drink. She never complained, and she slept well on the way to the parade and on the way home from the party, so she was well rested for her night of samba!

Tallu and I had on serious earphones to protect our ears- hers were pink, mine were black. If there are any parents out there who want their children to be exposed to live music but want their children to keep their hearing, urge you to get earphones. She kept them on as long as I had them on her, and she never went to fuss with them. My husband bought them for her so that he can take her to class with him, and so we can take her to his and other drum performances. I promise you, I've been checking her hearing ever since last Saturday, and she's fine.

A friend of ours gave us tickets to a cabaret on Saturday. She was promoting the party and said the tickets were for our first date night. Milady spent the night with her buddy Jay and his mommy and daddy, while we had drinkie-poos and a few hours alone, in a club with a hundred or so other people. It was strange not having her either next to me or attached to me, or even in the same building as me. I was nervous the entire car ride to the club. "Is she going to be okay?" "Are you sure?" I kept asking my husband every two-five minutes. He assured me that she would be, and that I would be okay, too. "But she's all alone, my poor baby," I said. If she's not with me, she may as well be alone, and I could barely breathe until we got a text message from our friends, showing a sleeping baby.

It was a short night - we told our friends we'd be home by midnight- but it was just enough time. I'm still nursing, so my boobs won't let me be away from Milady for so long. Plus I'm not used to being out of my house after 8pm anymore! We managed to have a few drinks, some snacks, and some time to talk without one of us having to check on, play with, change, or feed a baby. For the first time in eight months, my husband and I were just a couple out for the night, not Tallu's parents.

When we went to pick up the baby, we couldn't get her right away. Everyone in the house was sleeping, so our friends weren't answering their phones! We walked down the street, stood on their porch for a few minutes, then sat in the car until they returned our last call. She cried a few minutes, they said, then fell asleep and stayed asleep until we came inside.

Date night was a success, and both couples have agreed to babysit for each other for future date nights. We will have to plan next month's activity, and hope Tallu is as cooperative as she was last Saturday. Hmm...what to do for our second date?

We Survived

The family is back home...
Hold up...

What the fcuk is Gov. Palin doing on television? AARGH! Where's the remote!

Anyway, my family is back home after a four day, four family (and friends) holiday frenzy. Oh lord, what a loong weekend! Tallu saw her three cousins from her dad's side, two of whom are cousins from Wisconsin. She had such a great time watching her cousins, who are 3, 2, and 15 months run and jump and walk and eat and do all that stuff that big kids do. I even let Tallu "chase" her older cousin M- I held her upright and ran behind her cousin M. Both girls got a big kick out of that.

There were more children to see in Queens on Saturday, but they were 10, 6, 5, and 5, so they played amongst themselves. There were also a 2 year old and four month old, so the younger children were passed around among the adults. I don't think there was much interaction between Tallu and the babies there, except the photo ops.

Finally, on Sunday Tallu saw one of her godmothers, had brunch at Tavern on the Green with her aunt and uncle, and met a friend of mine I haven't seen in about seven years. This baby was busy! We are still catching up on sleep, and her sleep pattern is totally off, thanks to the travel. It's 10:40pm and she's still awake. I've been trying to get her to sleep since about 8:30.

The general consensus is that Tallu is a good baby- she is happy, pleasant and rarely cries - and should be earning her college tuition by modeling, right now. She should also be sleeping in a crib, eating solid food, and getting rid of that chesty cough. I apprecitate the compliments, and I wish I could do something about the chesty cough. For now, though, I have to stop this post, because some well-behaved baby is still fighting sleep, and her father's long attempt at walking the hall was to no avail.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

"I hate the holidays." This isn't exactly how I feel. I don't like the frenzy of it all. The marathon visitations. Being on my best behavior. No corner to escape, to have a moment for myself. I'm whining... what does this have to do with motherhood?

My parents were married for almost thirty years, but they didn't spend the holidays together very often. The four of us always started and ended the holiday together at home, but my mom would go to her family, my dad would go to his (although, sometimes, he would go with my mom.) I tried to follow my dad sometimes, but the last holiday I remember spending with his family, there was lots of yelling, and I ended up in my great-grandmother's bathroom crying because I couldn't take the fighting anymore. I gave up on that whole dividing time between the families BS after that.

But there were years when the four of us chose stay home together, and that was great. No schlepping to Queens, or Harlem, getting comfortable, only to have to get bundled up and come home. We could eat an oven stuffer chicken, since none of us really liked turkey. We could stay in our pajamas if we wanted. A happy holiday, indeed.

Our family likes to stake their claim for Turkey Day at least a year in advance, and there are no backsies! (I have a fabulous example I could insert here, but I won't.) We're whisking Milady to three states in as many days, and jamming her between us on a double sized air mattress for as many nights. Christmas Day, at least, we've claimed for ourselves, and everybody knows. (And if they don't, they will know by the end of this weekend.) The day before and the day after Christmas I think we're committed. By the New Year's Day, I think I'll need to be committed for a few days.

I know she's a baby and won't remember her first Thanksgiving or Christmas no matter where it is, but I'm not sure if Tallu will ever know the peaceful bliss of being home for the holidays.
My husband commutes a few hours each day for work, so a Thanksgiving at home would be wonderful. He could spend all day with his baby, I could see him for more than an hour and a half before sleep. We could watch the Thanksgiving Day parade in front of a roaring fire, sipping cocoa in our pajamas...who knows what family traditions we would have, if only we had time to cultivate them?

Gobble gobble, everybody!