Motherhood

When I became pregnant last year I was initiated into a new club.  The club of motherhood. 

I had a very difficult time as a pregnant working woman.  My life was changing on all fronts.  High Blood pressure, water retentionion, heart burn, carpal tunnel, and a pesky hernia challanged my stamina daily. If it was in my handy dandy guide to maternity---I had it. Plus I still had to put in long hours during the holidays.

At work I was very private about my pregnancy and its challanages.
But somewhere near the end, when it was obvious I was struggling daily with my preganancy I was initated to the club.

Of course all the nice things---like baby gifts and the ohs and ahs of a bun in the oven was to be expected.  What I had not expected was the stories that women were willing to share with me...from women I only knew at work...women that I managed at my store for years.

The stories went beyond long labors and special cravings in the night. I was  pulled to the side at work to hear their own personal short stories about miscarried babies, still born babies, babies wanted, babies longed for,  and babies lost. Each woman opening just briefly to let me into their heart, to share their sorrow, to share their joy. As if to let me know that I am not alone in this journey...even if the road takes an unexpected turn...we are not alone. We are mothers.

Even after my Blueberry arrived in the world---my membership has continued.
The most recent story has lingered in my heart these past few days.
A relative of a woman at work lost her two month old daughter to SIDS this past week.  The baby girl had her bottle and went down for a nap and never woke.

Absolute heartbreak.

It is hard for me to breathe when I think of this story, when I think of the look in the woman's eyes as she told me this story.  Told me because she had to let it out....it was weighing heavy on her mind while she worked away her day.

That night I rocked my E to sleep.  Before he closed his eyes for the night we said a prayer together...for the baby girl and her mother.

The next morning I cracked the door to his room to listen for his breathing as he slumbered. Upon hearing his little sigh I thought about what a thing it is to be a daughter of Eve.

How joyous.
How sorrowful.
How amazing.
How strong.
How fragile.

My heart beats for the love of my son.
For the love of being a mother.

Down on the Farm

I worry about my blueberry.

If he is reaching his milestones to early...to late...did I miss something...does he need more...does he need less? Am I doing the right things to ensure that he has a chance of being happy in this crazy mixed up world?



The last two days have been  snow days filled with hours of Blueberry playtime. We have been wearing our cozy sweaters and comfy pants.

He has taken a shine to a new friend---a holiday present that was tardy...a green squeaking dinosaur from the movie Toy Story.

E loves to hear the dino squeak.  They play hide and seek.  They dance and play the drum together. And they love to play on the farm. E  feeds the pig and the sheep to the eager kelly green t-rex.  A lot of love there.  You can see E look into the eyes of the dino as if he was real.  He talks his little sweet words to the t-rex and will grab him, hug him, and offer the dino his silly sloppy baby kisses.

So maybe I am doing something right.  It just took a squeaking green dino to show me what I had been looking at the entire time: a happy baby.

Happy New Year!

My blueberry is getting to be a big little boy!


Every year I make some resolutions.  And some times I even make good on them.
This year my resolution is simple and complicated---to respect myself again.


Before the baby my life was getting on track----I was painting, reading, feeling better about the way I looked, starting a new life out on my own.  Exciting stuff.


Working long work weeks and cramming baby-family quality time into any free moment I could find made last year the best exhausting year of my life....but some things about my life tended to drift away.
So this year I plan to reign them back in.

• to keep better in touch with my friends
• to travel
• to paint
• to read
• to write
• to garden
• to eat better
• to exercise more
• to save

and a few new things:

• a vacation as a family
• learn to walk in high heals
• a promotion
• learn to finally sew

I want to offer my blueberry a beautiful and interesting world---and to do that I need to get back to being myself. He deserves the best mama I can be.

Blueberry Holiday

First Christmas for little E.
First Christmas as a Mama.

When I left my previous life I also left behind careful years of holiday ornament selections. Among my eclectic assortment of goldfish and snowflake ornaments were also dear ornaments from my mother and grandmother. As the winter chill settles down for its visit, I often miss those odds and ends of holiday decor that served a tactile memory of my past and the people I have loved.  My life is headed in a new direction...and sometimes sacrifices have to be made in order to rediscover happiness.

For the past months I have been accumulating my blueberry's first tree ornaments. My purpose: to build  a foundation of decorations that will hopefully fill his years of holiday memories with color, sparkle, and joy. Humming birds, Cookie Monster, robots, and a ballet recital ready pink flamingo are the start of this fresh chapter...the start of my first Mama tree.

My favorite find?  The perfect sweet ornament to top our first family tree. A glittery slice of blueberry pie.


It is with hope that one day E will look forward to unwrapping these first ornaments from their storage tissue to adorn the Christmas trees of his childhood.

Look at mE

Eighty pounds.  That was my pregnancy weight gain. During the last few weeks of  being an incubator I  looked like Jabba the Hut from the Star Wars movies. Yes, indeed.   Multiple chins, my body spread wide with swelling.  My glasses barely fit on my face. The only thing missing was a slug like tale.

Within one a week of my blueberry making his way into the world forty lbs of water weight drained from my body.

And since then, every extra prego pound has stayed put.  Made a home.

Last night after our bath time my little wonder was still ready to play play play. Even though he was yawning and rubbing his eyes, his mama was home and he so desperately wanted her full playtime attention.

I was drained.  Another long day. Another long work week
I am always tired.
I never eat a regular meal.  At work and at home I graze.
I never exercise.  After a week at work it takes all my energy to try to help with the house work and play with E.
And the most depressing----my pre-pregnancy clothes still do not fit. All my pretty blouse, the favorite jeans, the cozy sweaters.
I am in a constant state of feeling frumpy dumpy.

I have never been a thin woman.  That is not the goal. It is more simple and more complicated at the same time. I want to feel good, look good, and play well for my son...for my little family.

So last night, after that sweet boy shined his tired eyes at me I decided enough was enough. Even if I just took baby steps something had to give. I made a pact with my blueberry.  After the grazing supplies of quick eats was gone from our kitchen,  mama would only bring home water and things for easy-baby-on-your-hip real meals. I still have to eat the grazing food---in moderation--cause the wallet is to slim to waste any food that enters the kitchen. But the goal is to slowly replace it with the right things.

I worry about the diet of my blueberry.  Three meals a day.  Fruits. Vegetables. Healthy babe appropriate snacks.  The good doctor has stressed to me how important it is for a baby's growth, metabolism, and digestive tract development to carefully monitor their diet.  He said that we have a whole lifetime to experiment with food and taste, but that as  babies it is more about health and wellness first.

And our E's weight and growth is perfect and on track. I need to model my son's example.

This morning when I woke to his morning "come get me lets go mama" calls, I was energized to start planning my new venture back to wellness.

And
then....

There they were. Chocolate covered mini-donuts on the kitchen counter. A fresh gallon of milk in the fridge. Morning gifts from my dear D.

Darn it. It is that time of the month when the site and smell of anything chocolate or salty triggers my cravings.

E had banana oatmeal and apples for breakfast.
Mama had a donut, toast, tea, and a pear.

I did say baby steps, right?

(Please note: the wonderful new floor in the background that Daddy installed all by himself last weekend.  I was around for moral support.  I love it.)

My E and Mrs. G

My little blueberry is so blessed.  He has an assortment of grandmothers and grandfathers to dote on him. To tell him how cute, how smart, how wonderful his precious baby soul lights up their life.

My grandmothers once did the same for me.

I miss them. 

I would have loved for them to have held my E...hear his giggle...to have felt the warmth of his genuine loving nature.  My grandmothers were a motley crew. They had a variety of different natures----one had a colorful vocabulary and enjoyed a cold beer---while another was faithful to her church and smelled of Coty powder.  And my dear great grandmother was almost as round as she was short. These ladies loved me.  Each made me feel special every moment I was with them. Watching MASH reruns and  singing hymns fill many memories of my childhood.

And then there is Mrs. G.

She is my mother's neighbor of 30 odd years. A woman who is a wonderful attentive grandmother to her own family. My brother and sister and I are lucky that she also spread her attention to us during our youth. For years she watched us play from her kitchen window as she washed her dishes. She was the first report to our mother.  She watched over us while my mother worked and attended college.  There was no sneaking or fighting---because Mrs. G would witness it from that kitchen window. When we locked our selves out from our house, she and her husband were always waiting with cookies in their warm kitchen (the house key was always missing and we siblings  blamed each other for where it had gone). And like my grandmothers she would dote.  Tell us how handsome we were, how smart. Tell my mother how good we were. How lucky my mother was to have us.

Above is a photograph of my E and dear Mrs. G. He is brand new in the picture. And true to her kind heart she told me how handsome, how smart he was. Like his mother, she would say.

When Mrs. G. held my E it opened my heart to the memories of my grandmothers. Her tender embrace of my son was an open channel to the love of my grandmothers who had passed. The grandmothers that I miss. She served as the connection to the women who would have  adored this special little boy.

Today Mrs. G is not well.  Now it is my mother who is the neighbor that does the checking and reporting on our Mrs G.  My thoughts and prayers are with my neighbor and her family...that she may soon again be watching over my family from her kitchen window. 

Gnome Baby

Ah, my little gnome. Most adorable Halloween costume in the world made by Baba.  Complete with super red hat, snazzy belt, and a little pouch for special treasures.

Note: he wore the hat without complaint for both trick-or-treat days.

As I post this my little blueberry is fast asleep after two days....yes, two days of trick-or-treating.  I do believe he loved every minute of cold autumn night air and strange looking people running amuck.

Note 2: Of course my head is already full of costume ideas for the years to come before he hits the age when he will think he knows best.....

For now I need to focus.  I need to plan. Make lists. Set a budget. The holidays are around the bend.  And somehow I volunteered to have Turkey day at our little house. What was I thinking....