Noah Now

ZOMG I thought I saw Noah crawling yesterday!

One tiny scoot for Noah, one giant leap toward mobility.

It was just a couple tentative motions forward but it marks a huge milestone for us, especially since Judah never learned to crawl as a baby.  This is just one of many ways that Noah differs from Judah.

Judah was a drool-monster and wore drool bibs even after age 2.  Noah doesn't drool at all.  Judah could not entertain himself and be left alone for even 15 seconds.  Noah can happily entertain himself for 20-30 minutes at a time.  Judah loved reading books, even as a 6 month old.  Noah grows bored after 30 seconds and would rather chew on the pages.

Anyway, enough of comparisons.  More about Noah...
--He's growing teeth like crazy.  No sooner than his big top 2 teeth came out, he's already starting on the next 2 on top.

--Recently he's been horrible at napping.  I don't know if it's some kind of new phase brought on by this new mobility but he now SUCKS at sleeping during the day.  No matter what I do he will only seem to nap 30 minutes at a time now.  I have tried letting him cry himself back to sleep (even up to an hour!), patting him right away and trying to soothe him back to sleep quickly, nursing him in the hopes that would put him back to sleep, moving his nap times up or down half an hour, you name it, I've tried it.  And failed.

--He has horrible eczema but is allergic to a lot of various creams/moisturizers.  Thankfully Aquaphor is not an allergen so I slather him in it daily like butter on toast.

--He's really into sticking his tongue out and blowing raspberries now.  So cute!

--He can now (and frequently does) reach out to me to indicate that he wants me to hold him.  He also 'points' at things he's interested in by stretching out one arm in a certain direction.

--He does not care to nurse.  Unlike Judah who probably would've nursed until he went off to college if I let him, Noah's just like 'meh' about it.  The only time I can get him to latch on for more than 30 seconds is if I nurse him while he's drowsy.  This is the main reason why I haven't trained him to sleep through the night yet.  The 3 times I nurse him at night probably accounts for 90% of the breastmilk he now drinks!  But man am I tired of fragmented sleep.  I'm torn about what to do--as always with childcare, it seems like a trade-off between HIS well being and MY sanity.

Look how happy I am when you're not trying to nap me!

I can't believe Noah will be 9 months next week.  He seems to be growing up faster than Judah did (probably because my attention is divided this time around).  How could my baby, my last baby, my sweet baby be so close to turning one?  I'm in complete disbelief.

No matter how old Noah gets, this is how I'll always think of him, as a newborn.

The Long Goodbye

Today I finally sorted through all of Noah's 0-9 month old clothes and took them to a consignment shop.

I'm not at all a sentimental person and I NEVER cry.

But going through all his little onesies and newborn footies, I came as close to crying as my cold robot heart would allow.  I had no idea it would hurt so much.

Saying goodbye to your little baby forever.  That might just well be the hardest thing about parenting.  Motherhood is like the ultimate exercise in ambivalence--I SO SO SO want Noah to grow up and develop and blossom AND I SO SO SO want him to stop growing and always stay the same.

Even as I cuddle his chub and inhale deep whiffs of his sweet fatness, I'm mourning that he'll never be this small, this cute, this baby-ish ever again.

It *almost* made me want to have another baby.

In which my toddler makes me question the foundation of my ethical stance on economic charity

[Judah opens up his mini-kitchen cupboard where he stashes his hoard of fake and real coins.]

Judah: I have lots of money Mommy.  I'm rich!

Spouse: Do you want to share some with us?

Judah: Sure!  Then I won't be rich anymore.

*pause*

Judah: Mommy, I can be rich.  Or I can be generous.

Me--floored.  From the mouth of babes--what profound and interesting insight.  Even if one doesn't agree, you gotta admit that's a pretty heavy concept to wrestle with.

I can be rich.  Or I can be generous.

If you're rich and have more than enough, what is your obligation to your fellow man?
What does it mean to be generous?
How much do you need to share?
Should you share until the point where you're no longer rich?

[Note: I'm not advocating a political view, but rather asking about one's own private moral and ethical inclinations.  Please don't think I'm a commie.]

Nursing Noah

Last week has been pretty rough for Noah.

He had a couple days of high fever and then a little pink rash all over his tummy that spread up to his neck and face.  I attributed it to teething since he's growing out his top two teeth, but later realized that it might have been roseola (a viral infection).

Either way, I've been trying to nurse him extra much during his fever to prevent dehydration, but Noah is just not interested in nursing during his awake periods.  All I can really do is nurse him at night when he's too sleepy to protest.  So that meant a lot more night nursing sessions and a much more tired mama.  But the silver-lining is that I finally figured out the etymology of the phrase--nursed back to health.  It was kind of hard to miss it as I literally nursed Noah back to health.

The extra nursing was a little annoying, but what was REALLY awful was when Noah went on an all out nursing strike a few days later due to his gums being so sore from teething.  Of course I didn't figure it out until 12+ hours later and my boobs were dying from engorgement, ugh.

But after some squirts of Baby Orajel and a lot of pumping, we are pretty much almost all back to our normal selves.

All I have to say is--thank goodness for topical anesthetics!

Last week was rough, but we are back on our feet now!

Preoccupation with Occupation

There I was filling out the new patient form at top speed.

First name, middle name, last name.

Address.

Email.

Phone number.

Occupation.

Wait, what?

Occupation.

Um, um, um...my pen hovered over the blank line for longer than felt comfortable.

Occupation...

Has my statute of limitations run out for writing my old occupation--attorney?  Two months into being a SAHM, there it was, punching me in the face--all my insecurities and misgivings about being a SAHM.

I hesitated longer than I would ever have imagined hesitating over something like this.  And then slowly I started to write "s" "t" "a" and then stopped cold.

I'm not going to write that.  I can't write that.  I guess I haven't made my peace with that yet.  It felt too personal to write that.  Why should I let strangers know about something that is still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why IS it still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why is auto spell-check telling me there is no such word as 'unreconciled'?  Tangent, sorry.

This is stupid, I thought.  Why am I making this such a big deal?  And yet I couldn't bring myself to finish writing the word 'stay'.

So I crossed it all out and wrote "unemployed."

Unstucking

Lately I've fallen into a blogging black hole.

It's funny how sometimes I can't seem to write fast enough--ideas for posts pouring out of my ears.  And other times, like now, I can't be bothered to lift a single finger and type a single letter.

The only way to break out of a blogging funk, I find, is to just write.  The only way to get unstuck is to just type.  Without this perfunctory flexing of the metacarpals, I find that everything soon calcifies and a once somewhat healthy blog becomes pretty much extinct.  You turn around and realize...hmmm...I haven't written a new post for 4 weeks...and then 4 months...and then why bother anymore.

Sometimes the attempt to have a nice coherent blog entry pretty much obliterates the fun of blogging.  So to heck with that today.  Here's a random list of stuff that...well, is just random:

--I've been on a Cheryl Strayed kick lately.  Just finished Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things.  She's an amazing writer and her immense humanity and wisdom shines through in every sentence (but I definitely don't agree with everything she says).  I think I might buy Tiny Beautiful Things in hardcopy (everything I read is on kindle since the only time I have to read is while nursing) just so I can highlight phrases and read some passages over and over again.

--Noah is 8 months today.  We're finally digging ourselves out of a deep dark hole of baby care.  Most wonderfully he's now on a very predictable schedule.  He takes 2 naps at the same time every day and eats solids like a beast.  Oh how I love predictability.

--Judah has become an aggressive alpha male monster.  Everything that comes out of his mouth is about killing, hating, fighting, cutting off heads, etc.  I fear I'm raising the next great American sociopath.  And the tantrums.  They are stronger and more frequent than ever.  Terrible Threes, here we come!

--I just started watching Season 1 of Breaking Bad.  Fascinating.  Psychologically fascinating.

That is all.

Through a Glass, Darkly

These past 6 days have been hellacious.  I officially hate Labor Day.

Because of Labor Day, Judah's preschool shut down on Friday and Monday.  That means I wrangled with both kids ALL DAY on Thu, Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon and Tue (today).  The vast majority of those days, all by myself.

By the time Monday rolled around I was pretty much ready to swallow a bucket of pain pills.  And wash it down with some good gin.  Just kidding.  Not really.  Just kidding.  Only sort of.

It's hard to explain to people who haven't had the "pleasure" of dealing with babies and toddlers why it is so particularly painful to care for them for long periods of time.  And to be fair, Noah is really not the main pain.  His only contribution is his gargantuan heft (21 lbs!) that must be hoisted around the house, up and down the stairs, in and out of contraptions, etc.  He's so heavy that I literally brace myself for the upcoming physical pain as I prepare to pick him up.  Ever watch olympic weightlifting--how they scrunch up their face before lifting the barbell?  Yeah, like that.

But the real assault on my sanity comes from Judah.  Clingy, whiny, prone-to-trantrumming, disobedient, limit-testing, super-active Judah.  Plus he's gross.  I totally know what Tina Fey means when she says she's like a human napkin to her kids.  Boogers, pee, poo, snot, drool--it all gets wiped on me.  I am constantly being violated and I shudder to consider what's on his grubby little fingers.

Probably the hardest thing about Judah is his extreme need for attention.  I would probably be really down on my parenting ability because of this, except for the fact that (a) he's been like this since he was a baby and (b) Noah is nothing like this.

Noah can play by himself, as early as 3 months, longer than Judah can at 3 years of age.  Crazy right?  So crazy it made me google--kids who need too much attention--to try to figure out what the heck is wrong with Judah.  And that just reminded me why I find parenting advice so infuriating.

Nothing is clear, everything is vague.  It all "depends..."  Every article said some variation of the following--There's a fine line between giving your kid the love and attention he needs and giving him too much  and thereby spoiling him.  And where is that fine line exactly?  It never says, of course.  It depends...on temperament, personality, each individual child, etc.  Um, thanks articles, for NOTHING.

Anyway, just so I don't end on a sour dark note, here are some bright spots in our days:

First tandem brother bath time!  I hope this journey doesn't end with games of "slippery fish" in their future.

Please ignore Judah's naked butt and just focus on the fact that they're both engrossed in independent reading.

Sweet moments like these are all too brief.  Seriously, like only 0.15 seconds long.

Oh how I love (and put up with) my precious two and a half men.

As these pics prove, we do have our brief (make that very very very brief) shining moments. But still, all I can say is--Thank GOD Judah is going to preschool tomorrow.

Birthday Love

Recently Judah turned 3!

He had a little celebration at his daycare (which also nicely coincided with his last day there).

I meant to give him a 'police' party but Target doesn't do that.  But hey, the avengers are kinda like police, right?

And had another party with his church friends.

I love that Judah was sucking on a blue marker right before this pic was taken.  Sigh.

And received the sweetest homemade card from his 5-year old friend.  Inside his friend wrote: Dear Judah, I love you.  Happy birthday!

Dear Hallmark--you should have a 'made by 5 year olds' card division.  You're welcome.

And while we're on the subject of homemade stuff, here's some pictures Judah drew that I will keep until the day I die.

Judah drew this at age 2.5 and it was the first time anything he drew actually looked kind of like something.  He very deliberately made it blue because policemen are blue, of course.

Judah and Picasso both had masterpieces and 'blue periods'.

This picture, done a month later blew me away.  Judah said "It's a whale mommy!"  Um heck yeah it's a whale!  It's a whale of a whale!  To be honest I don't think the spouse could ever draw a whale as good as this one.

I'm tempted to write out a bunch of 'progress reports' about Judah at age 3--the numbers he can count up to (sort of 20), the letters of the alphabet he knows (all of the capital ones and their sounds!), the milestones he's reached (potty-trained!) or has yet to reach (can't wipe himself). But that all seems a bit tedious...even for a proud mom!

So all I'll say is this. Judah was a difficult baby, a difficult 1 year old, a difficult 2 year old, and now a difficult just-turned-3 year old.

He always has and still does demand attention and energy that no reasonable baby/child should demand of adults. He rubs us raw and wears us down and seems to really enjoy getting on our very last nerve.

But he's also fun. And sweet. And kind-hearted.

And by the grace of God, truly ONLY by the sheer grace of God, we live to tell another year!

Pillow Talk

Every night after putting Noah to sleep, I sneak into Judah's room to say a quick good-night.

I tell him I'll stay with him for 5 minutes only and we have some nice mellow conversations.  I always tell myself to digitally record them (if I can only dig out my old recorder), but I'm especially sad I didn't record tonight's conversation.

At least I can kind of reconstruct it here:

Judah: Let's snuggle.  Close your eyes!  You my father-wife (his term for husband and wife).

[We snuggle.]

Judah: Noah is our boy, he's Judah.  And daddy is...Noah!  Daddy is a baby!

[Judah giggles mischievously.]

Judah: When I grow up, I'm going to be a real daddy.

Me:  That's good Judah.  You want to get married?

Judah: Yeah.

Me: Who are you going to marry?

Judah: You!

Me: That would be great but I'm already married to daddy.

Judah: Uh...can I marry Noah?

Me:  Uh...no.

Judah:  Can I marry Mur-Mur?  (One of his favorite babysitters.)

Me:  Um, sure.  But what about marrying Alexa? (A friend his age at church.)

Judah:  No, I can't marry her.  She's just a girl.  She's not a grown-up.

Me:  But by the time you grow up, she will be all grown up too.

Judah: Oh!  Or I can marry [Judah lists the names of other little girls at church].  Or I can marry Christmas...

At which point I crack up and realize he has no idea what Merry Christmas means.

Good-night my sweet boy.

The Perks

I know I do a lot of complaining about parenting.  I can't help it.  Every day feels like a battle that saps me of every ounce of energy.

At 9 pm when the kids are finally both asleep in their beds, I am so mentally and psychically drained that I literally can not get off the couch on which I catatonically lie, staring out into nothingness like a trauma victim, for at least 20 minutes.

But of course there are unparalleled highs as well as lows.  Evidence that kids are awesome?

Exhibit A:

They love eating wooden apples while exuding chubbiness.

Exhibit B:

They love playing with rattles while exuding naked chubbiness.

Exhibit C:

They wear matching shirts.

Exhibit D:

Did I mention naked chubbiness?  Yes?  It's worth mentioning again.

The Accidental Housewife: The Accident of all Accidents

I call myself the accidental housewife, because I really never imagined I would be a housewife.  And not just A housewife, but THE housewife.  I mean, is there anything more conventionally 'houswife-ish' than living in the suburbs with 2.5 kids?  But then again, I never imagined a lot of things about the way my life has turned out (funny story about how I became a lawyer--remind me to share that sometime).  It all seems like one long series of...well...accidents.

Well, technically, I don't believe in accidents.  I believe in Providence.  But I use the term 'accidents' loosely to mean something that was not chosen by me.  Sometimes, even diametrically opposed to what I would have chosen.

Growing up in a dysfunctional suburban family (oh how I identified with the movie American Beauty), I could think of nothing worse than continuing to live there as an adult.  I may have been the only person in high school to love country music and fantasize about living on a secluded homestead, growing my own produce and tending my own livestock.  And riding horses everywhere.  Gosh I love(d) horses.

In college, my ambitions took a more humanitarian turn as I fantasized about running an orphanage in some impoverished but happy place, like Botswana.  Again, there was a lot of growing one's own produce and tending one's own livestock, but with some schooling thrown in there.

I also considered joining a circus.  Or a musical troupe.  Seriously.

This was definitely not what I pictured...but it does feel like I joined the circus most days.

Suffice it to say--kids, green lawns, reliable 4-door sedans, and the rest of that was never in the picture.  I didn't want adventure per se, but I definitely wanted a good measure of novelty and...detachment, I suppose.  Being a parent, to me, was the ultimate act of attachment.  Forever you would be committed, responsible, and completely subject to the fate of another.  Talk about shackles.

In that sense, I really wasn't into getting married either.  Sure the companionship would be nice...but it had better be one heck of a companionship that would be worth the...shackling.

And then the accident of all accidents happened--the one that started a series of somewhat inevitable events that led to my, for lack of a better word, demise.

As a newly minted sophomore in college, I met the spouse.

Actually, now that I think of it, the word 'demise' is more than fitting.  I remember feeling that exact sense of finality and closing doors within a few weeks of our meeting.  This was it, I intuited.  The end of the line.

Here would be the person I would marry.  Here was simpatico and the sense of belonging that was simply impossible to pass up.  And he would definitely not be up for country farm-living, or touring with a troupe.

And then the spouse wanted to have a kid.

And then we wanted that kid to have a friend-for-life.

And then we wanted them to have good public education.

And it was impossible to find a work situation that allowed me to spend as much time with my kids as I would like.

And now is now.

Many times I think back on the person who dreamed of living anywhere but the suburbs and I just have to shake my head in wonder.  It feels like I ran to the ends of the earth (if only in my head), only to come back full circle.

But for all the novelty, freedom and horse-riding that has been conclusively given up, I actually feel surprisingly...full...and filled.

And the Award Goes To...

Today I decided to leave Judah a little quicker when dropping him off at preschool. (The past few days I'd stay for 15-20 min.) It didn't go well at all.

After warning him that I would leave after 2 minutes and reading him a story, I promptly carried through with my words and moved toward the door. Judah was devastated--tears, screaming, clinging to me like a monkey clip-thingy, the works.

Instantly I regretted the decision to leave so quickly--obviously he wasn't ready for it. But there was no turning back now. I had to show Judah I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Besides, the preschool teacher was glaring at me and totally judging.

And so I left.

Poor Judah had giant tears streaming down his crumpled face, screaming like a torture victim. I felt bad, but honestly, not that bad. He was like this when he started daycare and he would probably be fine after 5-10 minutes. But still, it never feels good to see your kid completely fall apart because he needs you and you are LEAVING him.

This week of transitioning to a new school has been pretty tough on Judah. Always the picky eater, he never ate his lunches and had trouble going to the potty by himself. His teachers assumed he could do everything on his own but he needed help pulling his pants off (and didn't get the help in time resulting in several pee accidents).

On his second day the teacher reported that Judah cried a little during lunch. When asked why, he told her "I miss my mommy."

Another day when the spouse went to pick up Judah he was sitting off to the side on the benches, all by himself. The teachers explained that he didn't want to play with the other kids and just wanted to "wait for my mommy to pick me up."

Loner boy on the benches by himself.  At least he didn't wet his pants (again).

With all those images playing in my head, I drove home with a heavy heart and proceeded to put Noah down for a nap. Noah, going through some bad sleep issues of his own, proceeded to scream his ever-loving head off for 45 minutes while I "nap-trained" him, at which point I totally felt like I won the Mother of the Year Award.

Oh yeah, with all the ear-piercing screaming and crying today, I'd say it's in the bag.

The New Boy

Judah's first day at preschool went really well.

After meeting his classmates for about 5 minutes, he said "Bye mommy," indicating that he was basically ready for me to get back in my car and drive away.

Well that was easy!

Before I left he asked "When you gonna pick me up?"  I explained that after lunch and nap time and some more playing I would come back, just like at the daycare.  He said "Okay, hug (we hugged), kiss (we kissed), bye mommy."

So brave, so strong, my little big boy.

As always it was me that had the hardest time--wondering what he was doing and how he was getting along with the other kids.  It helped that there were some very adorable and outgoing kids in his class--3 of them instantly introduced themselves to me and rambled on about random things.  Of course, being the overprotective mom, I told them "I'm Judah's mommy.  It's his first day.  Can you help him get settled?"

When I picked him up at the end of the day he was sitting with his classmates playing with play-do.  He said he had fun, liked his new school, and had a good day.  He had one pee accident during quiet time and didn't fall asleep on his napping mat.  But on his daily report his teachers wrote that he had a great first day.

I hope things continue to go well, but I know at least one thing that's bound to get nasty--the germ situation.  They say kids get sick at least 12 times the first year they are in preschool.  Ugh.  Not looking forward to that.

My Big Boy

Tomorrow will be Judah's first day at his new preschool.

I don't know why I feel so jittery.

Probably because it's a big facility with 5 classrooms and about 20 kids in each class.  Definitely more "school" like than anything Judah's ever been at.  I hope he likes it.  I hope he makes friends.  I hope they remember to put his sun hat on him when he plays outside.

And I hope he'll be brave and let go of my hand when I drop him off tomorrow.

This is the photo I submitted to his preschool--he of the crooked smile.

My baby is all grown up.  He turns 3 the day after tomorrow, but it feels like he's already 4.  Probably because he's tall.  And because he says ridiculous things.  Like lately he's been calling me "old lady."  WHAT?!

And just yesterday he woke up screaming in the middle of night and said, "Mommy I had a bad dream.  I dreamed you were pushing out a baby."  HAHAHAHAHA.  Apparently Judah and his dad have the same kind of nightmares.

I reassured him that there was no baby in my tummy and it was just a dream, not real.  And then for the next 15 minutes he kept wimpering "no baby...no baby...there's no baby..."

I guess someone is not entirely thrilled about being a big brother, ha!

"There is a Friend..."

A couple weeks ago I had a very special treat--a visit from my dear dear friend Mandi with her sweet little guy.

Although we hadn't really seen each other in 8 years, she's one of those friends--the kind that you just know you'll cherish for all time, no matter how far apart you live from each other.  I'll never forget how floored I was when, upon hearing that I might not have someone to watch Judah while I went into labor with Noah, she actually offered to fly up WITH HER TODDLER AND INFANT to watch Judah for me.  If that's not a Proverbs 18:24 friend, then I don't know who is (well, other than Christ of course).

One of the last times we saw each other in 2005--6 moves, 3 states, and 4 kids ago!

When Mandi and I first met eons ago (before the spouse and I were even married), we instantly clicked.  So I suppose it wasn't that surprising that our two kids would click right away when meeting each other for the first time.  Almost immediately, they hit it off--giggling, running around, just good plain ol' toddler fun.  It probably helped that they are just 3 months apart in age.

We tried to pack in as much fun as possible while not wearing out the kids too much--going to the zoo, going swimming, toodling around San Francisco. Those few days flew by and too quickly it was time to say our goodbyes.

These guys gave some great goodbye hugs and kisses to each other.

The saying goes--I left my heart in San Francisco. But in this case, a big part of my heart just left.

The Child-Free Life?

Wow Time Magazine, way to rub it in.

Ever since Noah was born I've been feeling kind of beat down by the whole "raising kids" thing.  I'm not going to lie--when I see couples with just one kid or no kids, I feel pangs of envy.

I half joke to all my friends that Judah was just entering his easy phase (after being an exhausting baby and toddler) and then we had to screw ourselves all over again by having #2.  Now here we go again with the whole exhausting ordeal--the sleep deprivation, the feeling like a hostage while nursing, the fussy crying, etc, etc.

Listen, I know babies are blessings and miracles.  I know we are lucky to have them.  They are little angels of love and sunshine, blah blah blah.  But frankly, until they reach age 3, they are also huge pains in the butt.

I'm not going to launch into a litany of all the ways I've been deprived since a child emerged from my womb since I've already documented them here and here.  But let me just say this--I actually looked forward to going into labor with Noah because it was the closest thing I've had to a vacation resort since Judah was born.

Once I checked into the hospital (aside from the whole annoying labor part), I could have 3 blissful days and 2 peaceful nights without my toddler constantly demanding, whining, crying and generally annoying me.  And all meals were provided.  I could finally just kick up my heels, put on a movie, and not get up for as long as I wanted.

In reality, the hospital stay sucked because Noah had jaundice and I had to wake up every 3 hours at night, schlep down to the NICU and nurse the kid.  But in theory, the hospital stay should've been awesome.

Anyway, to be fair to the whole parenting thing--it's probably not that bad if you have relatives nearby who can help.  But we have none of that.  I imagine it makes a big difference if you can get a break once or twice a week or even a big getaway break once or twice a year.

Nope, it's an all day every day proposition for us.  No sick days.  No vacations.  And most annoyingly, no evenings off.

So yes, I was salivating just a little bit as I browsed that magazine cover article.  And yes, I fantasize about having a child-free life.

But then I see stuff like this...

...and...it makes me want to thank someone.

The Accidental Housewife: The How and Why

I mentioned in my last post how I went back to work after my first kid and LOVED it.

Well, okay, I didn't love it, love it, but...it was so great for so many reasons. All in all, it was a positive experience.

So why am I not doing it again after kid #2?

I've been putting off writing this post mostly because I can't really answer this question very well. After mulling it around for some time, the best I can come up with is--it's an imperfect solution to an imperfect situation.

IDEALLY, I would be able to still work part-time.

Ideally, my part-time job would be interesting, stimulating, skill-building and never require me to work more than 20 hours a week (unless giving me waaaaaaay advance notice and even then, wouldn't require that many more hours). 

Ideally, my commute would be 15 minutes or less.

Ideally, I could find really cheap top-notch child care so I never worry whether my kid is languishing away somewhere being totally ignored while propped in front of a tv screen.

And since I'm shooting for the moon here, I might as well throw in other crazy wishes like peace in the Middle East, a cure for all cancers, and a pony. Seriously, I would love a pony.

In REALITY, the best I could do is to go back to work part-time at my firm knowing that the work hours are ridiculously unpredictable and completely client-driven. Whether I work 0 hours or 20 hours on any given weekend was always up in the air.

I suppose I was willing to put up with the unpredictability for a little bit with one kid. But now that I have 2 little people to juggle, somehow it just seems a bit much. Obviously if I really really really wanted to make it work, there are ways. But add to that the unending stress, the gnawing mom-guilt, and the complete lack of down-time (you're either being beat down by kids or by work), and it tipped the scale over to no-thank-you-I'll-pass land.

I decided that--You know what? I'd like to cook healthier meals for my family (a la Michael Pollan). I want to socialize more (or heck, socialize, period). I want to exercise more than twice a year. And yes, I even want a little time to myself to watch some Netflix with a bowl of ice-cream every now and then.

And that is Why.

The How is much more simple.

A lot of people wonder how we can actually survive on just the spouse's income. Well, it boils down to two factors really.

First, we are hecka cheap. We own one tiny used car, never travel anywhere, never go to movies/concerts/games/anything really, and never eat out at nice places. Wow, did I just describe the funnest people on the planet or WHAT?!

But seriously we don't really mind it. All I need to be happy is a good hiking trail and all the spouse really wants is a good book (thank you Barnes and Noble for many a happy, "free" evenings of entertainment).

Second, I've been squirreling away my Biglaw salary for five years while living like the above. And if you're at all familiar with Biglaw salaries, you know that's a lot of nuts stored up for a financial winter, so to speak. Eventually those stores will be depleted, at which point I do see myself going back to work, but for now, we're okay.

Also, I figure I'm actually "earning" a lot of dough staying home with the kids. Heck, I'm taking on the job of a full-time private nanny. The going rate for nannies in our area is about $20/hr for 2 kids, so we're talkin' bout a $40k a year imputed income I'm making! Woohoo.

All that being said, I still have a ton of misgivings about the whole SAHM thing. But that's for another post to explore. In the meantime, I'm enjoying Noah's new found ability to sit up on his own!

And to chow down on solids like a beast.

Forget the spoon mom, just dump it all in!  Noah seriously has no patience for small quantities of food.

Finally El Gordito is satisfied after 3 bowls of rice cereal and 1 cube of avocado.

And as always, pinching those nekkid chubby rolls.

Mommy just can't stand my stinkin' cuteness!

My Wonderful Wierdo

I know I'm way behind on blogging my thoughts about being a SAHM, but I just had to capture these hilarious moments with Judah before they're swallowed up by the fog of time.

First off...
Does this pic freak anyone out?

Who knew, this is Judah's worst nightmare?

Cuz seriously when Judah saw me shucking corn for the first time 2 weeks ago, he flipped out like he saw Satan himself.  He kept screaming like the exorcist, petrified by fear, until I physically removed him from the situation.

I guess whole corn can look kind of scary--it kinda looks like it has human hair...

Secondly, Judah is annoyingly obsessed with 'using' Noah's baby items.  He's always sitting in Noah's bumbo.  Always trying to climb in his walker and jumperoo.  And yesterday I walked into the kitchen to behold this abomination.

Straight up thug toddler life.

We thought it would be funny to take a picture and as we raised the camera Judah decided to flash us what appears to be his toddler gang sign.  Seriously, what is that?!  Wierdo.

Thirdly, I'm so proud that Judah verbalized his anger yesterday instead of just screaming and melting down.  He requested that I give him a spoon so he could spoon his hot chocolate into his mouth (instead of using the much more sensible lid and straw) and I said no.  Instead of crying, he said calmly, with tears welling up in his eyes, "Mommy, you make me mad."

Wow, what emotional control!  Of course I had to reward that by letting him drink his hot chocolate the way he wanted to.  And of course he made a mess.  At which point I said, "Judah, you make me mad!"

Lastly, this picture has nothing to do with anything.  It's just a typical moment in the life of a mom.  Half the time someone, somewhere is having a melt down.

Me and my naked post-bath angry bird.

P.S. Notice the lack of blue in Judah's clothing? This week he finally outgrew his "police" clothes fetish. After 6 months of only wanting to wear his police t-shirt and police pants, he woke up one day and picked out different clothes. And said "Mommy, I want new clothes." Ah, the end of an era.

The Accidental Housewife: The Plunge

Well, I finally did it.

I took the plunge, called my firm today and told them I'm not coming back from maternity leave.  I'm now officially a stay-at-home mom (SAHM).

I've been wanting to write about this decision (or my vacillating indecision) for a long time now but I didn't want any rumors to leak out to the firm.  I wanted my partner to be the first one to know.  And now that giant sucking sound you hear is the virtual removal of my self-imposed gag order.  SSSSSSSSSSSLURP!

Ironically, now that the gag order is removed, I don't know what to say.

Where do I begin?  How does one go about describing the multitude of contradictory and perhaps politically incorrect and controversial feelings that have been roiling around oneself for several months, maybe even years?  This could be one long-ass blog post.

So maybe I'll just break it up into a series of posts.

For now, I'll say this.  No one is more surprised than I am to be a SAHM.  My own mom worked a full-time job every day until she retired in her 60's and I just assumed that was normal and that I would do the same.  After having my first kid, I went back to work after maternity leave and loved it.  In fact I believe it was my saving grace.  Work gave me a much needed break from childcare and the intellectual stimulation and adult socialization that I so badly craved.

Lots of studies show that working moms are much happier than SAHMs and experience a lot less anger and sadness.

So why am I staying home now?  Gulp.  What have I done?

Honestly, I don't know.  But as I contemplate this question for the next blog post, here's one compelling reason for staying at home--squeezing these chubby rolls all day long.

Week...I don't know anymore

Now that Noah's almost 6 months I think it's probably time to retire recounting his age in weeks.

I can't believe we've made it this far!

Life has gotten considerably easier with Noah.  He naps only 2-3 times a day now (instead of 3-4) and has mostly figured out how to sleep on his own.  Every few days he forgets and we have to 're-teach' him, but he's a little quicker on the uptake each time.

Usually Noah just sits in the Bumbo while I putz around the kitchen cooking and cleaning.  He's really into grabbing objects and putting them in his mouth now (like every normal 5 month old).  And just yesterday, he refused to recline in his car-seat/stroller so we put him upright.  He's not quite strong enough to sit upright but he sure wants to!

Judah was very proud of Noah sitting upright and shouted to our neighbor "My baby brother sitting up like a big boy!"  Our neighbor had no idea what Judah was saying.  Why is it that only parents can figure out what their toddlers are saying?

As for Noah's eye infection, we saw a dermatologist who prescribed some steroid cream.  It's been working really well so I have high hopes that we'll lick this thing for good soon.  Yay steroids!