Simba Happy?

One of the best things about parenting is watching your little helpless lump emerge into a human being with his very own personality.

And oh what a personality!

One of Judah's strongest traits is his interest in other people's emotions.

Judah loves people, especially his nanny's daughter.

Whenever we read books, he's always pointing at various characters and asking if they're happy.  Sometimes they are.  But other times they clearly aren't.

Judah happy?  Heck yes!

There's a scene in the Lion King where Simba is clearly distraught because his dad just died saving his life.  Judah ALWAYS flips to that page and asks "Simba happy?"  And I tell him for the 300th time, "No Judah, Simba is sad because his daddy died."  I know, heavy stuff for a 1 year old!  What were you thinking Disney?

But the funny thing is Judah LOVES maudlin books.  His favorite books and illustrations are the ones with extremely sad emotions.  He even tears up sometimes when we get to the most dramatic parts. 

I'll never forget the first time we read Llama Llama Red Pajama and the momma llama and baby llama re-unite after a traumatizing absence.  I looked at my baby's eyes filling with tears and I thought "Oh my sweet precious boy."

But it doesn't stop me from manipulating his sensitive little soul.

Often times the easiest way to get Judah to comply is to act like I'm really sad.  For example, Judah hates eating.  And after cajoling him proves fruitless yet again, I'll put on a very sad face and say "Judah, mommy sad because you don't eat.  Mommy sad.  Boohoo!"

And sure enough, Judah opens his mouth for a bite and says "Mommy happy?"

Feels kinda wrong, but hey, the kid's gotta eat!

Exhausted

Judah is constantly learning/picking things up from watching me.

One thing he's learned quite well is this:

He'll lie down on the couch or floor and exclaim "I tired!" or even better sometimes "Exhausted!"

Proud mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted"!
Sad mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted" because I'm constantly modeling a lack of energy in front of him.  Ugh.

Oh Judah, if only you'd lie down for more than 0.25 seconds.

What can I say? Most days I AM tired and exhausted!

Debbie Downer

This post is kinda depressing.  There.  You've been warned.

Ugh, I'm so depressed.

I just saw a posting on FB about a 2 year old girl who suddenly died this week.

She ran up to her dad while he was turning around and he tripped over her, causing her to fall backwards and get a major concussion, lots of internal bleeding, and she died a few hours later.

Ugh.

I know another incident of a 2 year old dying.  She was playing outside in her yard and a delivery truck just ran over her because she was in the truck driver's blindspot.  Her mom was on the front porch and watched it all unfold (probably in sickening slow motion).

She ran to pick up her little girl's broken body and cradled her in a blood-soaked blanket until she finally passed away a few minutes later.

I probably know a dozen more stories of babies dying.  In utero, in labor, in the first few months of life, in childhood.  Of diseases and accidents and plain old stupid coincidence.


Please out-live me Judah!

And like some sick movie director--in the place of each of these kids--I cast my own child and imagine him going through the same things they did.  And I put myself in the role of the grief-stricken mother.

I have a vivid imagine.  And I'm an eternal pessimist.

It's a very depressing combination.

It's my own quiet daily self-torture. 

I wonder if I'm the only one that thinks this way?

And to end on a positive note--it's Friday, yay!  Have a great weekend everyone!

What a Pair

I'm a sucker for just-like-daddy clothing for Judah.

Here they're sporting matching canvas shoes from our favorite wallet-friendly boutique--Target (pronounced: Tar-jay).  Here's a closer look:

Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?  And in other news, we bought Judah a yacht because that's how we ballers roll.

Judah aboard the USS Spoiled Brat.

Just kidding.  We snuck into a boat yard and posed on someone else's yacht cuz Judah wanted to, in his words, "Ride boat! Ride boat!  I want it!  I want it!"

Judah's "Cheese" Face

Question--What does my toddler and Jessica Simpson have in common?

Answer--They both mug for the camera with their mouths wide open!

Judah recently caught on to the concept of saying "cheese" for the camera. But instead of saying cheese and smiling--he gives us this face:

 

 


At first I thought, how wierd to smile with a big open mouth. Who the heck taught him to do this?! And then I recalled seeing pics of the spouse with this kind of "smile" when he was a kid.  I need to dig one out, scan it in and post it here.

Apparently open-mouth "smiles" are genetic!

High Careers and Babies Don't Mix, Part IV: Asking the Question

Hi Anonymous Commenter--Thanks for the fun article read: Why There's No Such Thing as Having it All by Lori Gottlieb (response piece to the infamous Slaughter article).

I think Gottlieb made some excellent points (dare I say she even echoed my own sentiments about the destructive corporate culture of 24-7 connectivity that is tearing the fabric of our souls to shreds?) and I've always loved her insights and writing.  Full disclosure--LOVED her book--Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough (or something like that).

But what's with all the b*tchiness?

Her tone was just so mean.

I admit Slaughter's proffered solutions to the problem of 'work-life' balance were unrealistic and totally ripped apart by Gottlieb's rapier-sharp logic.  But man, chill out.

Slaughter made at least a few good points and presented one very profound question:

Is there significant societal value in having mothers proportionately represented in top professional positions?

Right now, working moms face the problem that Slaughter and Gottlieb both admit to--they can NOT have it all.  They can not be 'present' mothers AND hold top-level demanding positions (in the majority of fields) simply because of the nature of the job.

Right now women have a choice--be a mom OR get that top title.  And a lot of people (perhaps Gottlieb as well) say that's all fine and dandy.  Everyone faces choices.  Be grateful you have a choice.  Women have choices!!!  Feminism won.

But I think Slaughter is asking the next big question--are we okay with this?  As a society, do we lose out if women have to make this kind of choice?  If society IS better off with having moms represented in top positions, then what can we possibly do from a policy perspective to create this better world?

And the answer might very well be--nothing.  There's nothing we can do.  That's just the way things are.  We cannot grow wings.  A leopard cannot change its spots.  Mothers of children under 18 can not be top policy advisors to the president.  And as Gottlieb would say--we all have limitations--live with it, suck it up.

But I think it's at least a discussion worth having.

High Careers and Babies Don't Mix, Part III: An Unfolding Case Study

The first thing I noticed about Marissa Mayer, the new CEO of Yahoo, is that she's hot.  Really hot.  It's amazing how hot she is.  Not just by CEO standards, but by any standards.

The second thing is that she's six months pregnant.

Wow.  That's even more amazing than the first attribute.

So, is Mayer a poster-child for the quintessential feminist?  Or a cray-cray recipe for disaster?  (Either way, her news comes at a perfect time for Anne Marie-Slaughter's publicists as it makes her recent article freshly relevant).

Mayer has already said that she's going to only take a few weeks of maternity leave and work the entire time.  Kinda already sounds high-stress cray-cray to me.

I have no doubt she can physically do it.  This woman is worth hundreds of millions of dollars thanks to Google stock.  She can hire an entire fleet of household help.  Night nanny, live-in nanny, baby nurses, cooks, house-cleaners, butlers, personal umbrella holders, whatever she and the baby needs.

But can she do it emotionally?  Preggo and post-natal hormones are a powerful drug cocktail.  It usually makes women totally weepy and "hyper-clingy" to their baby.

But more than that, all new moms I know WANT to spend time with their baby.  They WANT to bond with their baby.  And they feel totally crappy if they don't get to do that.

I've known moms who couldn't bond much with their baby either because of health reasons or work demands and they feel/felt awful about it.  It's crushing to have your baby cry when you hold him/her and stretch out their hands to their true primary caregiver, looking for comfort in the cuddle and coos of another person.  Have you ever been rejected by a baby?  It hurts like heck.  But I can't imagine the sting of the rejection when it's your own child!

But even more crushing is when that baby gets older and starts calling that other person "Mommy" while being pretty much indifferent to your presence.  And then that toddler grows into a child and has all his/her moral instruction from another person.  And then that child grows into a teen and you wonder why you have no moral authority over him/her--oh yeah, it's because I was barely in his/her life.  But I get ahead of myself.

In all stages of life, if you want to bond with your child and have a 'real' relationship with him/her, that necessitates time.  And time is not something CEO's (let alone any full-time working mom) have a lot of to spare.

So there you have it.  The One Million Dollar Question (unadjusted for inflation) for high-career feminists--to bond or not to bond?

Time (and the development of a child's psyche) waits for no one.

Mandarin

I feel like a bad mommy because I haven't taught a lick of mandarin to Judah yet.


If I were a good mommy, Judah would know he's picking a "hua."

Although it's the language of my people (awkward phrase, but what else am I supposed to say?   It's not my native language, that would be English since I was born here)--anyway, where was I?

Although it's the language of my people, I've withheld it from my baby because:

(1) I suck at speaking it.  Once quite proficient, I've regressed to about a 1st grade level--if that!

(2) I have no reason to speak it because the spouse doesn't speak or understand it and no one else in Judah's life does either.

(3) I'm already speaking English and Spanish to him (thanks to his Mexican nanny) and it would take too long to say something for a THIRD time in a THIRD language.  I mean, how laborious to say "Okay, Judah, we need to go home, this is the last time, la ultima, zway ho ee tsi...that's right, last time, la ultima, zway ho ee tsi...Judah.  Drop it!  Last time!  La ultima!  Zway ho ee tsi!"

But now he's nearly 2 and he speaks English and Spanish.  And no mandarin at all.

I always told myself that it would be okay if I could get him into a mandarin-immersion pre-school.  But now I realize there's a big problem with that plan--he wouldn't understand a freaking thing for maybe his entire first month there!  My poor baby would be scared and confused, on top of being already scared and confused in a new environment.

So now I have to make a decision.

Do the hard work of translating as much as I can into mandarin from this point on (and probably dropping the Spanish)?  Or let it all go.  Just give up and forget about the mandarin.

Why does the kid need to speak mandarin anyway?  I barely speak it.

And here's where I feel the pull of tribalism.  It just feels wrong to abandon the mother-tongue.  If language is as much of an ethnic marker as anything else, and if ethnicity is as much of our identity as anything else--then it just feels like losing a part of ourselves.  A big, deep part.

And besides, sentimentalism aside, being bilingual improves brain function in other areas!

Candy Man

Judah loves candy.

Hmmm...a rare vintage, I'm getting a hint of apricot...maybe a whiff of late Summer white peach...

So far we've introduced him to gummy bears and lollipops.  Of course, being the anal, over-protective parents we are, they are made with only organic fruit juices and no preservatives or high-fructose corn syrup.  But let's face it.  Candy is candy.

My hands are being raised in rapture and ecstasy.

Judah hates to eat so we sometimes bribe him with candy.

Lollipops are amazing!  I've never been happier in my entire short life!

Recently we've been giving him one lick of a lollipop for each bite of food.  I've never seen his face light up so brightly as when we place the lollipop in his hand for a lick.  These pictures do not do it justice.

I guess I'm not surprised.

My earliest memory involved savoring candy.  As a toddler I had frequent reccuring dreams about a giant bag of candy hidden in my house somehwere.  I was almost lured away by a kidnapper once who was offering me...you guessed it...a bag of candy.  And oh yeah, I used to hoard it under my pillow.

Apparently inordinate love of candy is genetic.  I just hope the kid also inherited my robust cavity-repelling teeth.  He's gonna need it!

Shee-shu

Judah loves to point out "Shee-shu."

When he first said that word, about 6 months ago, we were completely puzzled?  What?  Shee-shu?  What is he trying to say?

After discussing it with his Mexican nanny, we realized he was saying 'sucio', which means dirty in Spanish.

There's a lot of dog poop in our neighborhood, which Judah loves to point to and say "Shee-shu mommy, shee-shu."

But there's also a lot of occasions that he says shee-shu and it's not really dirty.  Like crumbs falling on his tray when he eats a cracker.  Or his hair falling on his arm when we give him a haircut.  Or the heather pattern in my grey t-shirt.

But Judah gets pretty upset about it and always has to point it out.  I'm starting to see that he's a little OCD, like his dad.

I used to (okay, still do) get so annoyed at the spouse for making me wash my feet every time I go in the house if I had worn sandals.  He doesn't want me to trek in any dirt from the outside world.  His own feet are pristinely clean at all times.  But do you know how annoying that is?!  To wash your feet 3 or more times a day?!

But now I see it's not totally his fault.  Like father, like son.

Apparently their dislike of shee-shu is genetic.

Philosophers Against Procreation

Speaking of not having kids, here's a provocative article I came across today:

The Case Against Kids: Is procreation immoral?

Haven't given it a thorough read, but from just glancing at it, looks spicy.  I guess my blog is also a pinterest board for articles I'll save to read later.

People Who Don't Want Kids

I know a lot of people who don't want kids.

In fact, I used to be a person who didn't want kids.  I suppose I still would be, but for the fact that I already have a kid, so kinda doesn't matter anymore how I feel about that topic.

But suffice to say I completely understand not wanting to have kids.  There are a lot of reasons to not want kids.

First, kids are a lot of work.  No joke.  Kids take up the bulk of your time and energy until they finally fly the coop EIGHTEEN LONG YEARS later.  Not to mention the expenses!  Hello college tuition--why yes, please help yourself to my wallet, take whatever you want.

Second, kids are emotional hijackers.  Your happiness and well-being are now forever linked to the happiness and well-being of another person.  As my mom-in-law put it--a parent can only be as happy as her unhappiest child.  It's true.  The sound of Judah wailing in misery or pain makes my blood pressure go through the roof.  It's scientifically proven to do so.  We are hard-wired to care until our hearts burst.  I know that if anything ever happened to Judah, the lights in my world would go out.

And you know you're going to fail.  Every parent fails their kid.  Everyone.  It's only a matter of degree I suppose.

Third (really, do you need another reason?) you just might not feel the biological need to reproduce.  I didn't.  I think maybe 75% of people have a strong urge to have kids just because that is also how we're hard-wired.  But some people are just missing that gene, or whatever.  I was just happy with the way things were.  It's not that I didn't love kids--I did, especially babies, but I just never felt the need to MAKE one.

Having made such a compelling case for not having kids, why the heck would I have one?  Asked and answered here.

And now that I have had one for 2 years, do I regret it?  Do I even, dare I say it, recommend it?

These questions are huge and would take way too long to answer.  So let me just say this for now--there is nothing like parenthood. 

There is nothing that even comes close to its heart-expanding powers.  Where before there were only puddles in the desert, there are now oceans of love.  But, beware, as the great poets of our age have sung about--love hurts.  Or rather, as Mellencamp reminds us--love hurts so good.

California Produce

Recently we took a trip back to where it all began for us a million years ago (okay just 15 or so but it feels like a million).  I first met your dad at the fountain at Sproul plaza when we were both undergrads at Cal.

Thus, being the product of 2 bears, Judah has GOT to go to Cal (they have legacy admissions right?) and shall never ever ever go to Stanfurd (what, that's the proper spelling!).

I was really excited to get Judah some Cal gear and replace his fake Stanfurd cap with a Cal hat, but they are expensive! $25 for a toddler cap? Seriously?!

Judah, what are you doing?

Judah?  Hello?

We Cal grads done make some smart babies y'all!

So Far, So Better

Life with you just keeps getting better and better!


Btw, I have to say that I really do NOT like this hat (go Bears!).  It was a gift though so watchagonnado.

We started out on a rocky footing--hello colick, thank you for destroying any semblance of sanity I've ever had.  But it's been a steady, albeit still exhausting, trajectory upward and onward towards...betterness!

You are so much more indendent now.  You can walk, go up and down stairs, get your own toys, etc.  You don't need boob juice anymore.  You sleep all night (have been for a while now).

And you're fun!  So much fun!  You entertain the heck out of me.  I don't need to scramble my brain trying to think of fun things to entertain you--you are a 24-7 fount of silliness, constantly making me crack up.  And you're so communicative.

Starting the moment I see you in your crib in the morning.  You stand there and tell me "Poo poo."  I say that I'll change your diapers and you respond "Later.  Change it later!  Milk, ba-ba (i.e., bottle), rock-a-baby (i.e., cuddle me)."

And then it's on to waking up daddy.  You'll burst into his room and shout "Wake up Daddy!  Wake up!"  And on we go with the day.

You are generally cooperative and pretty easy to reason with.  As long as we let you do it "one more time" or a "little bit, little bit more" and then tell you it's the "last time, la ultima, last time", and sometimes count "1, 2, 3"...you're pretty ready to let go of whatever you were doing or holding.

I keep wondering...will things just keep getting better?  Or will your "terrible two's" turn you into a demon child soon.  Cuz life with you is just too good now!

High Careers and Babies Don't Mix, Part II

So now there's a media firestorm over this article (see my last blog post for the link cuz I'm too lazy to link it again).  I just want to say 2 things about it.

First, thank you Anne-Marie Slaughter for publically voicing my own thoughts about the supposed awesomeness of women on the Supreme Court.  It's not that awesome when you consider that 2 of the 3 do not have families.

Second, I completely agree that “Having control over your schedule is the only way that women who want to have a career and a family can make it work” (quote from the article, which quotes Mary Matalin).

The reason Ms. Slaughter could be so happy in her career and parenting (prior to her stint in government) was because she worked in academia, that beautiful edenic paradise which allows you to set your own hours for most of the time.  If you want to go home at 5pm and resume work at 9pm, no problem.  Academia will let you do that.

But enter the big bad world of client demands and client-set timelines, and you are in a world of hurt.  And there is no more ruthless client than the corporate law client.  Our clients, Fortune 500 companies, wait for no man or woman.  They call you at 5pm Friday evening and demand a 30 hour work-product to be completed by 7 am Monday morning.

They schedule 10 am Sunday morning conference calls.

They make you work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.

They could care less that the new deadline falls right smack in the middle of your vacation plans.

And they have no qualms about asking you to work through the night.

But the BEST part of it all is not the sheer number of crazy-hours required--it's that it's all completely unplanned ahead of time.  It's all a wonderful surprise!  You thought you'd be free this weekend, but *surprise*!  Your client calls you Friday evening with some lovely change of plans.

Recently a male partner and I were talking about how unreasonable client demands can be.  He had just finished a major deal for Microsoft and was pretty annoyed at all the sudden all-nighters it required.  It was especially annoying because he kept having to cancel plans with his kids that really disappointed them.

It's great to have partners that honestly vent about these kind of frustrations.  But in the end, we both shrugged our shoulders cuz watchagonnado?  This is the reality and expectation in the business climate of today.  Technology has made our culture a 24-7 beast of constant connectivity.

Not only are lawyers expected to work around the clock at the drop of a hat, but in-house employees are being squeezed into the strait-jacket of constant availability.

There is really no more 'sacred' time.


And that's not just unhealthy for parenting, but for everyone.

High Careers and Babies Don't Mix?

Within minutes of each other, 3 people 'sent' this article to me today:

Why Women Still Can't Have it All by Anne-Marie Slaughter (first woman director of policy planning at the State Department and Dean of Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs)

Well, technically, only my hubby sent it to me.

The other 2 people (female law school classmates) 'shared' it on Facebook.

It's basically about her reflections on how motherhood and professional career success are incompatible, and perhaps irreconciliably so (yeah, I may have made up that word). I don't have time to write much on this right now, but talk amongst yourselves.

Women can NOT have it all...yes? No?

Operation Wean Judah: Postscript

So it's been a while since Judah's last breast-feeding session (FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE!)

I think he had his last sip-o-the-boob 4 or 5 weeks ago and it was so anti-climactically uneventful (and I was so swamped with work) that I completely neglected to blog about it.

I had built up all this anticipation and anxiety and in the end, he let it go without a fuss, or even a whimper.  All the things I had worried and fretted about for months, were completely unfounded in the end. 

My first fear was--how the heck is he going to go to sleep without the boob?!  Literally since the day he was born, his bedtime was preceded by breast-feeding until he fell soundly asleep.  It's worked so well for us (well, frankly, I kinda hated always having to be the one to put him down, but that aside, it's worked well), I was always loathe to change things up.

But that night I told him boo-boo was still owie and he immediately opted for the boob-replacement, a bottle of cow's milk.  And that was that.  He didn't fall asleep while drinking the bottle, but I held him for a while in the rocking chair and he fell asleep soon thereafter.

My second fear was--I'll never have that close cuddling time with my squirmy wormy baby ever again.  Seriously our times of breastfeeding were the only times he would sit still for more than 5 seconds.

But that fear was unfounded as well.  He lets me hold and cuddle him while I give him his bottle of cow's milk.  In fact, he requests that I cradle him by saying "Rock-a-baby!"  And there is that long snuggle/holding time as he falls asleep in my arms every night.

And so we've moved on.  Sort of.

Everyday, at some point, Judah will stick his hand down my shirt and say "Boo-boo okay?"  (Translation:  Hey mom, is your boob okay now?  Can I finally get a sip or what?)

But I remind him it's still owie and he accepts the bottle uncomplainingly.

And most surprising to me, I don't miss it at all--not even a little bit.

Bus Boy

You're dad recently bought you this bus set, complete with 3 ethnically diverse bus riders and functional wheelchair, just to be totally politically correct.

Yes, politically-correct toddler toys are hilarious. And your dad is awesome.

He loves indulging your budding love of motor vehicles. He has so many fond memories of playing with his own little matchbox cars as a kid.

You love playing with the bus and you're always narrating your adventures, saying "Ride the bus, Habitot!" or "Ride the bus, Studio Grow!" You also love playing with this car garage contraption.

You have so many little cars of all sizes now that I'm pretty sure my demise will entail breaking my neck after slipping on one of them as I make my way through a dark living room.

Baby-love

Recently Judah's learned to say the 3 sweetest little words:

"I...love...mommy!"

The first time I heard him say it was actually over the baby monitor as he was waking up in the morning.  I thought to myself, "No way!  He doesn't know those words, does he?!"  Even if he does know the words, I'm still doubtful he really knows what they mean.

But the very next day, the spouse asked him "Do you love mommy?"

And he chanted "I...love...mommy!" in his halting way.

And then he followed it up with "I...love...Di-yah-yah!" (I assume he's referring to himself--healthy esteem or major narcissist? hmmmm.)

Sometimes I really marvel at how wonderful a baby/toddler's love is.  I remember, long ago, when I was young, gorgeous and childless (and happy and carefree and bubbling with life and...you get the picture)...but I digress...I remember hearing someone say that baby-love is the closest thing to unconditional love.

I thought that person was crazy.

How can a helpless baby give you anything, much less love, much less unconditional love--the highest, purest form of love?

But now I understand.  I get it.

When Judah was just 4 months old, a helpless little blob, I often felt completely crappy.  Running around attending to a colicky baby for 3+ months had taken its toll on me (and sadly for those around me, on my hygiene).  It was all I could do to shower every 3 days and slap some moisturizer on my face.  My clothes looked sad.  My hair was sad.  My un-worked-out body had gone completely flabby with neglect.

I felt like the human equivalent of poop.

I remember being at a social function and feeling so horribly inadequate.  I was not pretty, or witty, or fun, or sparkly.  I was sleep-deprived, slow, sort of stinky, and not at all cute.  I had not been a good friend, or member of society for months as I had been holed-up in my cave of colickiness. 

I've never felt less-loved or less-lovable in the eyes of the world.

Feeling utterly defeated, I finally slinked back home to my baby.

Whose eyes lighted up upon seeing my face.

Whose arms reached out to me.

Who giggled and cooed with delight at my smiles.

The whole world may despise me, but my baby loved me.

The whole world may reject me, but my baby wanted me above all else.

My baby accepted me just as I was.

Just as flawed and broken as I am.

Sound and Fury

Last week was awful, awful, awful, awful.

Did I mention it was awful?

It is one thing to have clients tell you to work 10-12 hours on Saturday and Sunday. 

But THEN to keep changing the major terms literally every hour so that all your hardwork has to be undone and redone.  

And THEN to tell you a few hours before a Saturday meeting that it's been cancelled. 

And THEN to tell you an hour later, it's been un-cancelled.

And then re-cancelled.

And then re-un-cancelled.

And then, finally re-re-cancelled.

And then to get on your Sunday telephone conference only to have your clients tell you they've changed the terms AGAIN.  Well, actually, they're just considering changing them, they're not really sure...they're so undecided they cancel the rest of the 5 hour call after confessing in that first hour that they don't know what the heck they want to do.

I won't bore you with more details, but imagine a careening roller-coaster, with a bunch of puke on the seats, and no safety harness...that about sums it up.

I mean, HOW in the heck am I supposed to arrange childcare if I don't know if and when I'll be needed until literally a couple hours before I'm needed?  I sadly don't have a live-in-nanny that can be summoned on a moment's notice.  And the spouse works all Saturday.  And if I hire someone, I can't just un-hire the person as soon as she arrives because suddenly my meetings have been cancelled.  ARRRGGGHHHH!!!!

But the "best" part is that all the while I'm toiling away, missing my baby, getting frustrated at the constant change of plans, I know, I know deep within my bones, it's OBVIOUS, that this deal is NEVER going to happen.

We are running around like mad headless chicken for NOTHING.

The clients had ridiculously unrealistic timelines and unrealistic goals and it was NEVER going to happen.  And in the end, it didn't happen.  The deal was called off yesterday.

To be honest, I'm glad.  If the deal had continued, it would've just meant more crazy hours and intense stress for a few more days (and probably missing out on another weekend with my family).

And oh how I've missed my little guy.  I honestly don't know how partner-moms can do it.  HOW do you not see your kids, but for an hour each day?  How do you leave your kids for days at a time while you travel for work?

I know kids are malleable and they adjust.  They learn to cling less to you and more to someone else.  And I guess that's the trade-off partner-moms are willing (and probably happy) to make.

But I believe it comes with a price.  If you abdicate your role as the major care-giver in your kid's life, you are also abdicating your role as the major moral-guide in his/her life as well.  I read, and it makes sense intuitively, that kids will care about your values only to the extent they have a relationship with you.  Hence the famous retort, "You can't tell me what to do.  You're not my mother."

And those are words I never want to hear coming from my kid(s)!

Little Baby Daddy

Judah recently saw his neighbor's baby doll and really wanted one of his own. So of course, being the kind of mom that wants to encourage any nurturing tendencies in my kid, I got him one that very day.

They say that girls exhibit a tendency to 'mother' dolls at a very young age, before they are even exposed to any cultural conditioning. Even if they aren't provided dolls, they will 'mother' stuffed animals and the like. Boys, on the other hand, have a tendency to play with cars and trains.

Judah certainly loves his motor vehicles, but I'm delighted that he also has a very nuturing aspect. He's been feeding and rocking his stuffed animals to sleep for a while now. And now he gets to do it with a real baby doll!



One day, I can see him being such a great dad. And before that, hopefully, a great older brother.

Although, truth be told, he's not interested in 'baby' for very long. A quick feeding. Some rough rocking. And then he's on to his cars for half an hour.

Names in the Book of Life

One day Judah picked up our Spanish-English lexicon and started reading off his favorite catch phrases and names of people he knows.  He actually loves that pictureless book.  Go figure.

"Keira"
"Lecha" (Alexa)
"Uncle Will"
"Manfy (Manfred), Connie" (Those two names always goes together for Judah.)
"Ride the bus"
"Habitot!" (Baby gym)
"Studio Grow" (Another baby gym)
"Naty's school" (his friend's school)
"Di-ya-ya" (his nanny's name)

Judah's such a prolific gabber I often hear his little voice in my head throughout the day.  He likes to reach into his pocket and say "Got money."  And about a hundred times a day he'll say "Help me, help me, help me!" when he wants help opening something.

Recently he's learned to sing "Happy Birthday to you" with a long trill on the yooooooouuuuuu, which goes up an octave at the end.  He also likes to sing "Monkey jumping" (on the bed) and "Rock-a-baby" (on the tree top).

Gosh I love that little voice!

Weekend From Hell

Last weekend the dreadful work project that I was warned about finally hit my shores.

The clients gave us instructions to start drafting Friday at 4pm.  The deadline for the first draft was Monday morning.  It was a project that would take about 35 hours, if you worked at a reasonable pace.

So let's do the math, 35 hours of work crammed over Friday night, Saturday and Sunday.  NOOOOOOO!

Thank goodness for daddy day-care.  Judah and dad had lots of bonding time over little cars.

Of course I had a panic attack at 2am on Friday and couldn't sleep the rest of the night--adrenaline coursing through my veins like I was being chased by a pack of wolves.

But working all weekend was not the worst part by a long shot.  The worst part was missing my baby.  I saw so little of him over the weekend (and so little in the subsequent week days due to continued crazy late work schedules) that he's started to get really clingy.

He'll howl if I leave the room.  He won't let his dad hold him or feed him if I'm in the room.  And, worst of all, he's completely regressed in his bedtime behavior.

For over 5 months now, we've had it VERY good.  I'd nurse him a little and then he would lean and point toward his crib and voluntarily suggest that I put him in his crib to sleep.  "Crib, sleep," he would say.  "Bye-bye," he would tell me as I lowered him in.  Every. Single. Day.  It was awesome!

But just this last week he completely changed.  As I put him in his crib he started howling "NOOOOO!  Sleeeeeeep!  Mooooooommy!" (meaning:  I want to sleep on Mommy, not in the crib by myself.)

He cried for 15 minutes until the Spouse went to comfort him and stealthily sneak him in his crib, deeply asleep.

Sigh, guess it's back to the old sleep-training drawing board for Judah!

Judah and Friends

We are so lucky to live in a complex full of kids near Judah's age. Anytime we go out, Judah's sure to bump into some little buddy and have a ball socializing.

But Judah's favorite buddy is his neighbor, whom he calls "Keebie". He's always asking if we can go play with Keebie.

Frankly, he might just be into her awesome toy collection though.  He'll often ignore her and go straight for her baby shopping cart and cook stove!

Trooper

Yesterday was a total failure.

It was supposed to be Wonderful Family Adventure Day, as both your dad and I had the day off.

We were supposed to take you to a lovely park in San Francisco and spend the day reveling in lovely new adventures together.

But instead we could not get up in the morning.

It was one of those days that I woke up feeling like soemthing half-dead from the gutter.  Tired.  So very very tired.  After caring for you for about 35 minutes, I begged your dad to wake up and relieve me so I could go back to sleep.

He lasted a little longer--a little over an hour--and then begged me to relieve him so he could go back to sleep.

And then I wanted to desperately to take another nap.

As we played baby-sitter roulette, you took it all in stride.  Content to bounce around the house until we had enough energy to take you out to run some quick errands.

But, who are we kidding, you had a crappy, boring, uneventful day.

We owe you one.  Next time.  I promise.  We'll do something fun even if it kills us!

Shy Guy

Recently you've been doing a lot of this (please ignore my pasty-winter legs):

As your cognitive awareness blossoms, so does your shyness. It's funny because you used to be such a fearless baby--saying hi to strangers and walking into new places like you owned the joint.

Now you cling to me for dear life when you enter a new place.

I guess it's a good thing for you to have a little "stranger danger" instinct.  But you're still pretty easy to kidnap if someone waves a toy or snack in your face!

Mommy Sad, Mommy Happy!

Typical interaction with Judah (happens about 20x a day):

Me:  Kiss mommy!

[Judah turns his head away from me.]

Me: [Looking sad] Judah! Why you no kiss mommy?!

Judah: [Makes a fake sad face] Waaaah, mommy sad.

[Judah kisses me.  Aaaaah, what I live for.]

Judah: Mommy happy!

Me: Yay, mommy happy!  Again!

[Judah turns his head away.]

Rinse and repeat.  I can't get enough of his sympathy kisses!

Mall Rats

A few weeks back we went to the SF mall.  For some reason your dad had a HUGE hankering to go there.  I think being a mall rat is in his 80's blood.

I was delighted to find an H&M that sold kiddie clothes.  This is your first time in a dressing room, checking yourself out.

We approve of this cute outfit! I have such a weakness for baby overalls.

Later we went to a toy store where you rode some stuffed animals.  Here you're doing the 'scared' sign (patting hand on your chest).  You always get scared when you're "riding" something...even if you really really want to ride it.

But you felt better riding a smaller animal.

Reminds me of Jesus riding on the colt of a donkey during Palm Sunday, ha ha.

Amusing Ourselves

We recently went to Children's Fairyland (kinda like a disneyland for toddlers) with your twinsie Ry-ry.  You guys had a blast.

Here you are checking out the home of the 3 little pigs.

Looks cozy inside!

One of the displays was a cute little baptist church.

You look like you're preachin' something--just like your daddy.

Of course I had to make you take a picture by the Alice in Wonderland display!

You were very brave to ride the kiddie carousel even though you were scared of it.  But you would only ride in the one shaped like a chair, I guess because it was familiar.  Baby steps.

I guess this qualifies as your first amusement park trip!  Next stop--Disneyland (in about four years)!

Trading Up

The spouse recently asked me what I wanted for mother's day. Hmmm, where do I begin?

Some good dessert wine...

To watch a movie in the theatre...

A lovely hike under the redwood trees...

Some serious retail therapy...

My pre-baby body back...

Heck, while we're on fantasy wishes, 8 hours of sleep...

My sanity/time for just myself...

Basically, everything I've given up ever since you were born.

I'm not gonna lie.  It is hard, HARD, giving up every last inch of brain space and self-interest to another person.  Especially a totally demanding and irrationally difficult person who does not understand the first thing about waiting, even for just a second.

I will forever divide my life into Pre-Judah and Post-Judah.  And laugh at my silly Pre-Judah naivete and innocence.  Oh silly woman who thought she could still have hobbies after the baby came.

But of course, I would give it all up again in a heartbeat.

Nothing compares to looking into your little face and realizing that all the cliches in the world about love are actually...true.

Operation Wean Judah: Stalled

We've hit a bump on the road to weaning.

Although we're down to just one feeding (the night-time one), Judah's gotten really tired of hearing that boo-boo is owie.  Each day his frustration grows at the fact that boo-boo is STILL owie.

Now he'll insist "Boo-boo okay!  Boo-boo okay!"  (meaning, it's not owie, it's okay).

And then he'll say "Take!  Take!" (meaning, take those darn bandages off!)

This morning he actually burst out in tears and hurled his bottle onto the floor in anger.

Maybe he'd forget about nursing if I would just let that one last feeding go, but I'm finding out that I just can't.  It's just too wonderfully cuddly and sweet. 

It's the best way to end a LOOOOONG day of fighting, cajoling, frustrating wrestling with my obstinate toddler and the best way to say "Mommy loves you and I'm sorry for losing my patience and yelling at you when you threw pureed food on the floor for the third time, AGAIN."

Maybe we'll just keep this last one...

Watcha Gonna Do

Life with Judah is definitely getting more...difficult.

I question myself 100 times a day, wondering, is he obstinate because of my lack of parenting skills? Or is he obstinate because he's just a toddler?

Is it normal for everything to be so difficult and to take so much time?

Honestly, just trying to get him to do the littlest things can take FOREVER.  For example, how hard is it to put on your shoes and get in your car seat?  Easy peasy, right?

Nope.

First, Judah has some opinions about foot-wear.  He wants to wear his snowboots when it's 80 degrees outside.  Or he wants to wear his crocs when it's freezing cold and rainy.  There are negotiations, reasonings, cajoling, tears, long pauses...a lot of fierce kicking as I give up on getting his buy-in and just stuff his little feet into the appropriate pair of shoes.

So we're out the door.  Half the battle won, right?

Wrong.

Outside the door is his collection of bubble paraphanelia.  A big bubble bucket.  A bubble blower machine.  A little bubble bucket.  And a bubble gun.  They sing a siren song to Judah everytime he walks by and Judah must heed their call.

If I'm in a hurry, I'll carry him away, screaming and wailing.  But if I can spare 20 minutes, I'll let him blow bubbles (read: wave the wand around and fling soapy juice everywhere) before gently reminding him we need to go to the car.

And once I get him out to the car, you'd think we're home free, right?

Not with this one.

He now needs to "drive" first.  He wants to sit in the driver's seat, turn on the music and grab the wheel for a good long time.  That's actually not as annoying as the times he just wants to run down the street and take a leisurely stroll first.

Anyway, if you add it all up--it's about 45 minutes from getting his shoes on to the time I finally buckle him in.  Slow and frustrating does not even BEGIN to describe it!

Now multiply this by the entire day...uncooperative diaper changes, uncooperative eating, uncooperative napping, etc. and...don't you feel tired yet?

It's like herding a cat and watching molasses all rolled into one.

You So Far

It's the weekend.  The weather is warming up.  The sun is shining.  Life is good.

I'm in a hurry, so I'll just post some pics of you at the park recently. You are growing so much in every way.

I love seeing your little unique personality emerging.  As you're able to say and do so much more now.

You are a happy, social, affectionate, quick-to-complain, but quick-to-let-things-go little guy.

You are a gift.  Each and every day.  Each and every moment with you, is nothing short of pure grace.

Operation Wean Judah: Day Whatever

Just a quick note to say that Operation Wean Judah has been going swimmingly.  I imagine that's the kind of sentence CIA operatives write to Obama once in a while (except it's a different operation name, duh).

Anywho, Judah's natural empathy has made him completely accept my 'boo-boo owie' without any fuss.  He happily accepts a substitute bottle of cow's milk and we are now down to just 1 feeding a day.

And perhaps the biggest surprise so far is that I love it.  I love it!  I love the freedom!  I love not having to wear nursing shirts all the time.  I can't WAIT to wean him completely!!!

FREEDOM!!!!  (Insert image of William Wallace in full war-paint).

Operation Wean Juday: Day One

Day One was...totally unexpected.

After sucking in a huge breath and muttering fervent prayers for mercy, I bandaged myself up and showed them to Judah and told him there's no boo boo because they are owie.

He looked a little sad and repeated "boo boo owie...bandage...boo boo owie."

Judah gave me a consoling hug and the spouse and I exchanged a raised-eyebrow look.

That was almost too easy!

For the rest of the day Judah kept repeating "boo boo owie."  And then I unbandaged myself for his nightime nursing, which delighted and confused Judah.

Hopefully he'll be just as accepting today (and not totally confused and disoriented) when the bandage goes back on after I get home from work!