HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVE OF MY LIFE!

Happy Birthday, My Sweet Boy. Oh, I love you SO MUCH! You are 1 year old today! I spent much of today remembering what we were doing a year ago.

It was the morning of my second induction. We checked into the hospital at 6am and I was hooked up to my IV's and pitocin to induce labor. You have been inside me 41 weeks, 2 days, and counting. You were DONE cooking! I was ready to get you out! Dr. Amy came in and broke my water at 10:15a. I labored on pitocin until about 1:00p when I asked my doula about an epidural. My contractions were awful and as close together as they could get without hurting you but you weren't finding your way out. I got an epidural at 1:30p and felt floaty after that. No more pain! Your little head was getting squished with every contraction because you were stuck. At 5:15p, we all decided it was time to get you out! You were born at 6:12pm on Monday, July 25, 2011. Just perfect.

I was thinking yesterday how sometimes I can't believe you're mine. I look at you and am just amazed. You are really here! I waited for you and you came. Thank you for picking me and your dad. Thank you for coming to us when you did. You are wonderful. You are funny. You're frighteningly cute. You're smart. You're curious. You're opinionated. You are ALL mine.

Today you woke up and had breakfast. An organic blueberry waffle with peanut butter and cherry fruit spread. You had your first sippy cup of Organic Vitamin D Whole Milk. You thought it was pretty good. I came home from kickboxing class and you ate a cupcake though you didn't like the sticky frosting on your fingers. Your dad picked up a piece of the cake and fed it to you. You ate about almost all the cake and some of the frosting mixed in. You took a bath and a nap.

We went to Boulder today and ran errands. Everyone stares and smiles at you as you walk by. They must see the light in you that we see too. You just make everybody smile. You make people want to talk to you. You sometimes point back at them, smile, and say something important that only you understand.

You will continue to light up the faces of whom you come into contact. You light up my heart. I look forward to seeing you whenever I am away from you. My life is better because of you. I am better because of you. I love you, Talon. I love you to the end of the universe.

The First Birthday Party: July 15, 2012

Your first birthday party was a blast. We invited all our closest friends to celebrate with you. Our good friends, Sara and Scott Brayshaw offered to host it at their house. About 60 people showed up! It was a 'Stache Bash theme. Moustaches for all!

We had BBQ from KT's, a Costco chocolate cake to share, all sorts of food brought from friends, and I made you had a homemade smash cake. A water slide was put up and kids bounced around in that all afternoon. Dads and I ran around greeting people while you got passed from friend to friend who wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Talon, time after time, we fall more in love with you. You are just so cool, so roll-with-it. When it was cake time, we gathered in their garage and stripped you down to just your "Birthday Boy" onesie. We sang to you and when everyone sang, "dear Talon", your eyes lit up and looked all around in bewilderment. It was like you couldn't believe all those people knew your name! You put your hand on the cake and immediately pulled it away. I realized I didn't leave it out from the fridge long enough to warm to room temperature. The kids started chanting, "EAT IT" and you tried to touch it again but still too cold. The garage was loud with chants but you just took it all in, no cries, no screams, no fear. Dad sat you on TOP of your cake. You kind of wobbled but didn't mind. Soon though you'd had enough of us attempting to get you to eat the cake. A simple arms overhead  from and you were back in our laps.

Your official birthday is a week from today. I'll make you another smash cake that will stay at room temperature. Maybe you'll want to get into it more!

11 and a half months

• You stick your tongue back out at us. It's SO cute.
• You have 7 teeth.
• You are walking with a little more grace everyday.
• Still not a fan of Chicka-chick-boom-boom meal.
• Wild Black Cherry from Rita's Italian Ice is too cold for your taste. Your face squished up the smallest I'd ever seen!
• Your cousin, Jack, is very good at making you laugh.
• You stand up in the bath tub and when I tell you to sit down, you do. Then you stand up again and smile at me. I say sit down and you do. This game repeats.
• We're in Dublin visiting the whole family.
• We bought you a floaty for the pool today. You giggled and fretted all at the same time.
• Aunt Elisa, Uncle Scott, cousins Jack and Nick gave you 2 books, 4 cars, and Batman pajamas for your 1st birthday coming up.
• Forget trying to play in the morning. It's bed to breakfast for you!
• You bit my shoulder 2 nights ago.
• You shake your head 'No' and 'Yes' for no reason.
• You ate an entire wedge of watermelon this afternoon for lunch but wouldn't touch it yourself. You let me feed it to you.
• We're planning your 1st birthday party. It's a STACHE BASH BBQ. Pictures and stories to come in the final entry with the book to follow.

My heart.

No one but you will never know the strength of my love for you. After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside.

OOOPS!

This morning, I hear you crying and crawling down the hall to the living room. I was in the guest room because Dads is sick and was snoring last night. I'm totally thinking he's been up with you for a while. Then I see Jason walk down the hall from our bedroom. Confused. He picks you up and brings you in the guest room. Here's our conversation.

Dads: Did you get Talon out of his crib?
Me: (Confused) No, why? What are you talking about?
Dads: Because did you see him crawling down the hallway?
Me: Yeh. I thought you got him up.
Dads: No, I thought you did. I heard a thump then him crying.
Me: He climbed out of his crib?
Dads: Yes! (with a laugh)
Me: Wow, oh my goodness, Baby (me rubbing your head) Looks like we'll be lowering your mattress tonight! You climbed out by yourself!

Life happens so updates are long.

Life doesn't slow down for anyone. Blogging can get away from a person while it's happening.

Your dad is full force at camp. He is ending the second week today and has the final week coming. Your grandma is coming to visit to help him with camp all next week. He is exhausted and we're both teetering. Most important part is we have a great amount of love for each other. When life gets tough, it's the softest place to fall back.

I've been dealing with my identity being stolen and used for tax purposes. Back in February, Dads and I filed our 2011 taxes only to find out that someone else had used my name, address, and social security number to file their own taxes and attempt to get a refund. Guard your social security number with an iron fist as much as possible. I still don't know how they got mine but they did. Do your best to keep it safe once you are living on your own! Never carry your SS card in your wallet; lock it up somewhere in your house. Never EVER give it to anyone over the phone or email unless you are calling the IRS or Social Security Administration. Do what you can to not use it as an "I.D" number. Plenty of other ways. I digress...so it's almost July and Dads and I still haven't received our refund from Federal nor State. The mucked up part is my credit score is virtually perfect. It tells me this person is really only using it to work! Grandpa joked that at least they are contributing to my social security benefits. Just like my dad to say that :). As for my vote, I'd like to tell the illegal fucker to get their own goddamn identity. Don't have a permit to work in the US? Then STAY in your native country!!

You are official a walker! We'll say you walked at 10 1/2 months. You started Frankenstein-walking a week or so ago. I marked your calendar with a "First Steps" sticker. I keep imagining how I would feel to have all this info in my older years about myself as a baby and I'm hoping you are finding it interesting and valuable. No new words; you're still saying "Uh-Oh" sometimes when you drop things. You understand quite a bit though even if you can't talk back. You know, "Milk"  "Oatmeal"  "Puffs".

Last weekend on Saturday we took you on the G'Night Ride in Longmont sponsored by Bicycle Longmont. You rode in a little Burley trailer behind Dads' bike and you hated the helmet. Once we got going, you fell asleep for the entire 10 miles. I forgot to take pictures. Bad Mommy! Sunday morning you took 3 short naps then Sunday night you went to bed at 7:30pm and woke up at 8:30am Monday morning. We've never seen you so exhausted! We hope you caught up on your sleep.

Current favorite foods: Oatmeal and 2 egg yolks for breakfast. Puffs, Honeycomb cereal, and cheddar Goldfish. I put everything we eat in front of you and you pretty much throw it off your tray. Whole, small pieces of fruit, cheese, vegetables, meat...all get picked up and deliberately dropped from your tray as if saying, "No, thank you, I prefer this raspberry on the floor, Mama." Tooth #7 is popping up on the bottom left next to your two teeth in the middle.

We are planning your 1st birthday party! I will definitely take lots of pictures. Our friends, the Brayshaws, are having it at their house. SO excited. Catered BBQ because it's easier and just as cheap to buy all the food at Costco. And it's better than being a slave to the grill for the entire party. I'm still debating what kind of cake to make you. Vanilla or Chocolate? Maybe white cake with chocolate frosting? The theme is "Stache Bash". Everyone is wearing a mustache!

In July, we're meeting Gremily and Brucie in New Mexico for a vacation. I hope they come back with us for your party!

I can't imagine another kid who gets as many kisses as you do everyday. Every time I pick you up, you're getting a head kissy. You push Dads away sometimes but just because his face is prickly. Your smile lights up our world and your scrunchy face you make makes us laugh.

10 Things Every Daughter (or Son) Should Know.

Talon,
Written by Lindsey Mead Russell for her 10 year old daughter, I thought it was something to share with you, Talon. Another mother wrote it for her little girl but think of it in terms of me, your mother, sharing it for you. Read it carefully and let the words sink in. I love you Baby. You're my little Bugaboo.
xoxo, Momma


1. It is not your job to keep the people you love happy. Not me, not Daddy, not your brother, not your friends. I promise, it's not. The hard truth is that you can't, anyway.
2. Your physical fearlessness is a strength. Please continue using your body in the world: run, jump, climb, throw. I love watching you streaking down the soccer field, or swinging proudly along a row of monkey bars, or climbing into the high branches of a tree. There is both health and a sense of mastery in physical activity and challenges.
3. You should never be afraid to share your passions. You are sometimes embarrassed that you still like to play with dolls, for example, and you worry that your friends will make fun of you. Anyone who teases you for what you love to do is not a true friend. This is hard to realize, but essential.
4. It is okay to disagree with me, and others. You are old enough to have a point of view, and I want to hear it. So do those who love you. Don't pick fights for the sake of it, of course, but when you really feel I'm wrong, please say so. You have heard me say that you are right, and you've heard me apologize for my behavior or point of view when I realize they were wrong. Your perspective is both valid and valuable. Don't shy away from expressing it.
5. You are so very beautiful. Your face now holds the baby you were and the young woman you are rapidly becoming. My eyes and cleft chin and your father's coloring combine into someone unique, someone purely you. I can see the clouds of society's beauty myth hovering, manifest in your own growing self-consciousness. I beg of you not to lose sight with your own beauty, so much of which comes from the fact that your spirit runs so close to the surface.
6. Reading is essential. It is the central leisure-time joy of my life, as you know. I am immensely proud and pleased to see that you seem to share it. That identification you feel with characters, that sense of slipping into another world, of getting lost there in the best possible way? Those never go away. Welcome.
7. You are not me. We are very alike, but you are your own person, entirely, completely, fully. I know this, I promise, even when I lose sight of it. I know that separation from me is one of the fundamental tasks of your adolescence, which I can see glinting over the horizon. I dread it like ice in my stomach, that space, that distance, that essential cleaving, but I want you to know I know how vital it is. I'm going to be here, no matter what, Talon. The red string that ties us together will stretch. I know it will. And once the transition is accomplished there will be a new, even better closeness. I know that too.
8. It is almost never about you. What I mean is that when people act in a way that hurts or makes you feel insecure, it is almost certainly about something happening inside of them, and not about you. I struggle with this one mightily, and I have tried very, very hard never once to tell you you are being "too sensitive" or to "get over it" when you feel hurt. Believe me, I know how feelings can slice your heart, even if your head knows otherwise. But maybe, just maybe, it will help to remember that almost always other people are struggling with their own demons, even if they bump into you by accident.
9. There is no single person who can be your everything. Be very careful about bestowing this power on any one person. I suspect you are trying to fill a gnawing loneliness, and if you are you inherited it from me. That feeling, Woolf's "emptiness about the heart of life," is just part of the deal. Trying to fill that ache with other people (or with anything else, like food, alcohol, numbing behaviors of a zillion sorts you don't even know of yet) is a lost cause, and nobody will be up to the task. You will feel let down, and, worse, that loneliness will be there no matter what. I'm learning to embrace it, to accept it as part of who I am. I hope to help you do the same.
10. I am trying my best. I know I'm not good enough and not the mother you deserve. I am impatient and fallible and I raise my voice. I am sorry. I love you and your brother more than I love anyone else in the entire world and I always wish I could be better for you. I'll admit I don't always love your behavior, and I'm quick to tell you that. But every single day, I love you with every fiber of my being. No matter what.

Sick. Again. Oh, wait, and again.

My dear Super T,
You've made your momma so sick too often! Ok, it's not really your fault but I think we keep passing our germs back and forth that you catch in the gym child care room. I was sick in April with strep throat, sick in May with the flu (minus barfing), and sick now in June with laryngitis. I have come to expect to recover from this then get sick again in a few weeks. I guess the first year as a parent is like this from what I hear. I always worried about you getting sick but never thought about me getting sick! This is like my first year of teaching when I had strep throat four times!

Oh well, Darling, it's okay. I want you to get better. Dads is calling you "Snot Fang" because you have fangs of snot coming out your nose. You poor little thing. You've been sleeping like a drugged rock star though. I think the little cry it out that we did helped you connect CRIB+DARK=SLEEP. Dads and I have gotten some good sleep lately. Knock on wood we hope it lasts!

It was our first family outing at the pool last Friday. You love the water and are very curious about it. You started crawling into the deeper waters, would get splashed, then rethink it. Everyone loves your signature crawl; one foot, one knee. It's so stinkin' cute. YOU are so stinkin' cute.

You're getting sassy and talking a lot. Last night you pointed your finger at me and babbled something very important. Quite impressive.

Sleep, lovely sleep.

10 months old. Sleeping through the night was not a normal occurance in this household. After talking with Sara at a sushi dinner one Friday night, I put you to bed at 9:58pm. You cried until 10:18pm when I went in, kissed your head, told you I love you and you're safe but it's time to go night-night. You cried and it ripped my heart a little more but by 10:30pm you were sound asleep.

The following night, you were quiet in 3 minutes after putting you down. The next night after that, you were quiet after 2 minutes. Now, knock on wood, you know what to expect for the most part. Moms and Dads get to sleep a full 8 hours or so now. You're a happier baby because you're sleeping better. Happy baby, happy family. Sweet dreams, Sugar Plum.

Article: "Are you Mom enough? A Motherhood Wish List."

Talon,
Here is an article in the current news resonding to an article in Time magazine. I worry about being a good parent which someone told me then I have nothing to worry about. We'll raise you with our best intentions; I agree with many of this author's wishes.


It’s so tempting to get riled up by the Mommy Wars, isn’t it? The Time magazine cover story about extreme parenting, Are You Mom Enough?, featuring a beautiful mother in skinny jeans nursing her preschool-aged son, is infamous by now. It made me, along with the rest of the Internet, explode with righteous indignation. Mom enough? How dare they! This isn't a contest! But, wait ... what if it is? And I don't even own skinny jeans!

The story also made me think about what I wanted to teach Andrew—I mean really teach him. I’m not talking about the trendy must-dos that crop up each year about feeding and sleeping and discipline, insecurity porn concocted just in time to fill a fresh generation of parents with self-doubt. No, I’m talking about the things that I want to impart in average, totally inextreme moments, when my breasts are covered and my skinny jeans are in the wash.
Here’s my wish list.
I hope I raise a child who says “thank you” to the bus driver when he gets off the bus, “please” to the waiter taking his order at the restaurant, and holds the elevator doors when someone’s rushing to get in.
I hope I raise a child who loses graciously and wins without bragging. I hope he learns that disappointments are fleeting and so are triumphs, and if he comes home at night to people who love him, neither one matter. Nobody is keeping score, except sometimes on Facebook.
I hope I raise a child who is kind to old people.
I hope I raise a child who realizes that life is unfair: Some people are born rich or gorgeous. Some people really are handed things that they don’t deserve. Some people luck into jobs or wealth that they don’t earn. Tough.
I hope I raise a child who gets what he wants just often enough to keep him optimistic but not enough to make him spoiled.
I hope I raise a child who knows that he’s loved and special but that he’s not the center of the universe and never, ever will be.
I hope I raise a child who will stick up for a kid who’s being bullied on the playground. I also hope I raise a child who, if he’s the one being bullied, fights back. Hard. Oh, and if he’s the bully? I hope he realizes that his mother, who once wore brown plastic glasses and read the phonebook on the school bus, will cause him more pain than a bully ever could.
I hope I raise a child who relishes life’s tiny pleasures—whether it’s a piece of music, or the color of a gorgeous flower, or Chinese takeout on a rainy Sunday night.
I hope I raise a child who is open-minded and curious about the world without being reckless.
I hope I raise a child who doesn’t need to affirm his self-worth through bigotry, snobbery, materialism, or violence.
I hope I raise a child who likes to read.
I hope I raise a child who is courageous when sick and grateful when healthy.
I hope I raise a child who begins and ends all relationships straightforwardly and honorably.
I hope I raise a child who can spot superficiality and artifice from a mile away and spends his time with people and things that feel authentic to him.
I hope I raise a child who makes quality friends and keeps them.
I hope I raise a child who realizes that his parents are flawed but loves them anyway.
And I hope that if my child turns out to be a colossal screw-up, I take it in stride. I hope I remember that he’s his own person, and there’s only so much I can do. He is not an appendage to be dangled from my breasts on the cover of a magazine, his success is not my ego’s accessory, and I am not Super Mom.
I hope for all of these things, but I know this: None of these wishes has a thing to do with how I feed him or sleep-train him or god-knows-what-else him. Which is how I know that these fabricated “wars” are phony every step of the way. I do not need the expensive stroller. I do not need to go into mourning if my "sleep-training method" is actually a "prayer ritual" that involves tiptoeing around the house in the dark. This is not a test. It’s a game called Extreme Parenting, and you can’t lose if you don’t play. And, really, why would you play? You have children to raise.