Holy Smokes, Henry's 1 year old

I remember every detail of the day I gave birth to Henry. That first cry and that slimy first hug. I remember his first smile and his first laugh, held so tightly in my heart. I remember the first time he crawled, the first time he devoured a banana, the first time he gave me a big open mouth kiss leaving drool on my cheek. It all feels like it was just yesterday. This is has been the most incredible whirlwind year, full of some of the most wonderful moments I could ever imagine. 

And now, my little squish is a year old! He's a full blown toddler, climbing and standing, babbling and being stubborn, learning his animals and making messes. He's not a baby anymore. He eats like a beast, and is absolutely present in every moment teaching us to be excited about the little things in life. 

So because I'm a first time mom, my son is amazing, and I love a good excuse to eat cake and have people over, Henry had a fun little birthday party last weekend. He doesnt have any 1 year old friends yet, so we invited a bunch of ours over. I did my best at being crafty and made the decorations, and have the hot glue gun burns to show for it. 

 He ate cake. Lots of it. A good time was had by all. I'm so proud of the little boy he has become, so excited for the adventures we have ahead of us, and a little sad for the baby moments that have passed. 

Hoping for hundreds more afternoon naps that I can sneakily peak in at him. 

The Guilt of Motherhood

The pressures, expectations, self-judgment and outward comparisons of being a mom are enormous. Enormous I tell you! The things I find myself feeling bad about, or guilty about like I've dropped the ball are truly ridiculous. But it feels like the nature of parenting and motherhood has these crazy notches on the measuring stick, and because some kids can do certain things or some moms do certain things, then my lack of doing those things means I have somehow let my kid down. Which if I try, for just a moment, to be a rational human being I may be able acknowledge that my worries are unreasonable. But I am unreasonable, so the whole rational thinking thing doesn't equate to much. Here are a few examples of what seem to be worthy of questioning my mom skills.  

Henry is almost 11 months old and doesn't know a bit of sign language. He cannot sign to tell us if he's hungry, full, tired, or would like a puppy.  But he does whisper something that sounds very close to "poop" while he is pooping, which to me, is pretty extraordinary. 

I'm not big into music but about a month ago, James played some music while he was hanging out with Henry, and he immediately responded. He calmed down, he was listening and thinking, and he was bobbing up and down. Great, right? Except that I felt terrible that I had wasted 10 months of his life without surrounding him with music, and maybe, just maybe, I had already set back his brain development, because we all know music helps tiny human's brains develop and become more active. So I'll have you know that every day since we make sure we have music on while we play or eat. Hopefully I can undo the effects of my failure to have music playing for 10 whole months. 

My kid has worn socks maybe a dozen times in the 300+  days he's been alive. Apparently people expect babies to have socks on? This guilt is only momentary, and then I think, my kid hasn't ever been sick. Which I also attribute to the fact that he, on numerous occasions, has chewed on grocery carts, restaurant tables, and playground equipment. My lack of concern has lead to an impenetrable immune system. For this I am confident. 

I can probably spill out some meaningful statement about not judging our parenting and mom skills and that comparing ourselves to others isn't fair, but the fact is, I do it. Constantly. I think on one hand, it keeps me striving to be an awesome mom, on the other hand it keeps me questioning if I am doing enough and on the last hand -- because moms have three hands, thats how we get some much done -- the bitterness reaffirms that I am happy with how I am showing up as a mom, even if it's not the most "proper" way. 

Because we have fun. We laugh and smile and sneak up on eachother with kisses. We make huge messes, and loud noises. We blow bubbles in our water cup and bite eachothers feet. We sit on the floor and eat snacks and sometimes leave the house without being all put together. We try our absolute best. This is the good stuff, we don't make it serious. 

I have nothing to say

Why, you may ask, have I neglected writing a new post for 3 weeks? Well for starters, Henry has learned to pull himself up to stand, he has learned to crawl like a beast, my father-in-law turned 90 years old and frankly, that is absolutely worth celebrating, AND I was a zookeeper for an entire day. Oh and I watched the Oscars, which means I was sucked into a minor oblivion for what felt like days. Not to mention all sorts of (temporarily) secret exciting stuff that is going on, which is taking up what little focus and brain space I have left.

I feel like it would be totally appropriate to end my post here.

To further demonstrate what my stream of consciousness is like on a daily basis.

It's very wham-bam-thank you ma'am. 

A rush of thoughts/words/feelings and then suddenly mush. Being able to comprehend nothing more than an episode of New Girl or pounding my hands on Henry's toy keyboard making non-sensical sounds while he stares at me in a do-you-really-need-to-keep-doing-that kind of way. 

And yet I find myself still writing. 

And now I've jinxed myself. I have nothing left to say.

Henry is 7 months old now, and he's ridiculously awesome. Aside from being dashingly handsome, he's goofy, smart, and full of love. 

Oh yeah, I got a Dove Chocolate wrapper that said "You should charge for your great advice." So who wants some advice? 

I have a dream...

Today is a wonderful day. It is not only the Inauguration of President Obama's second term, but it is also Martin Luther King Jr. day. His words and actions have inspired millions, if at the very least, inspired them to think about THEIR dream for the country, for their families, for their futures. While getting some morning cuddles in with HB, I got to thinking about my Dream, about the world I hope he gets to grow up in. 

So here is MY DREAM

I have a dream...

That we will live in a nation...

Not driven by fear, but instead by inspiration.

That we will live in a nation...

Who's greed is not more powerful than it's compassion.

That we will live in a nation...

Led not by those seeking more power, but those seeking more equality.

That we will live in a nation...

Where enthusiasm and excitement are nurtured, not smothered by doubt.

That we will live in a nation...

Where opportunities are not just for the privileged, but for those with the passion and courage to take hold of them.

That we will live in a nation...

Committed to empowering each and every individual to thrive, to succeed, and to be happy, knowing that the stronger we are as individuals, as families, and as communities, the stronger we will be as a country.  

That we will live in a nation...

Where every person is free to love who they love openly as any others do. 

That we will live in a nation...

Full of schools who educate young people on diversity, acceptance, and respect. Knowing that bullying and abuse is an unnecessary evil in our world. 

That we will live in a nation...

Who embraces our differences and allows the awareness of those around us to enrich who we are as a global community. 

That we will live in a nation...

With a culture of unity, of peace, and of security and comfort. 

I know. This is truly a far-fetched dream. That I may be naive or perhaps idealistic to think we can have all of this. But this is it, my dream for the kind of place I want my son to grow up in. I suppose it's more of an illustration of the world I want to grow my family in. 

With that understanding and acceptance that this all can't happen overnight, and in fact may never happen at all, I realize just how important my job as a parent is. 

I will do my best to instill these ideas in our daily lives. 

I will create an environment that embodies all of our dreams right here at home. 

So that at the very least, for some bit of time every single day, we will be living our dream, so that when we leave our home, and go to school or go to work, we are full of all of the love, and enthusiasm, and respect and excitement that we need to carry on knowing that we are living our lives fully, just the way we want. This is the true meaning of, "living the dream."

This one's for you kid.

Happy 6 months since you burst into this messy world. 

To nap, or not to nap. That is the plea.

My kid is basically a no-nonsense nap fighter. He means business. He does not want to nap and he makes sure you know it. He may be exhausted, rubbing his beautiful little eyes, yawning and being generally fussy, but don't let that fool you, he does not want to nap. Logic escapes me, or better yet, escapes Henry, as I wonder why, if he is so tired, he refuses to nap. I try to reason with him, "If you take a nap and get some rest you will feel so much better, and we can play and read and eat and have a great time." 

He takes nothing I say seriously. 

So I write this while watching him on the baby monitor, the sweetest little thing starting to stir after just a half hour of rest. A half hour asleep after what was a 90 minute battle to get him to sleep. I guess I shouldn't say battle when it really was just hanging out with my awesome kid. We bounced and rocked and walked around. We hummed and shushed and sang a song. We laid together and we nursed. Nothing calmed his crying and fighting. Until finally he just went calm. He lay against me in the rocking chair with his eyes wide open, but completely still and calm. My sweet sweet boy. And eventually, time took it's toll and he closed his eyes and went to sleep. 

And then he woke up, 30 quick minutes later. Sigh...

We are very lucky to have such an easy baby. We've known this from day 1. And we hear it quite regularly from people. "He is such a happy baby." "I've never seen such a calm baby just sit there like that." And it's true, we are able to go out to restaurants to eat, we've gone to plenty of Mommy & Me movie showings, we go for walks and run errands. And he is seriously a great little dude, and we love being able to take him out with us. 

All that being said, he still hates napping. 

I'll never understand.

What I would do for a nap...

It's this funny cycle we go through. Fighting naps as infants and toddlers, taking naps again in kindergarten, staying up late once we hit our teen years, taking naps daily in college, no time for naps once you have a job and responsibilities and stuff, and then yearning for naps once you have a child. Sleep. 

I will NEVER EVER take it for granted. 

I know some people think it's a waste of time to sleep more than six hours, and yes, maybe I could get more done if I stayed up super late or got up super early, but I am generally a more tolerable human being if I've gotten some decent sleep.

So for the sake of my family...I will sleep whenever I get the opportunity. 

First World Problems

Henry and I go on a walk almost daily, at a park we love in a part of town that we also love. On those walks, Henry is usually napping and I find myself thinking incessantly. And this is the situation I've found myself in...

We are passively looking at new homes in a few parts of town. Possibly moving within the next year. 

Reason? Well we live on a really busy main street, we don't have a yard, we will eventually need more space when we have another little one, and the school district that serves our neighborhood is pretty dreadful. 

The obvious answer once was, to be patient and make sacrifices on how updated the home was in order to be able to afford something in the ideal neighborhood with the best schools. And then, with all of my thinking time, I found myself wondering if Henry would be better served having a more diverse environment. Kids from more backgrounds; culturally and economically. I can't quite articulate exactly what else I mean by "diverse", but I know there is more to it. But doing this wouldn't make sense if we were to somehow find ourselves living in this ideal neighborhood. Because no one would ever pass up on access to the best public schools, to give their kid a diverse experience at a charter. However, a charter is never guaranteed since most selections are based on a lottery. So atleast we would have a good school district as a definite option if we lived there.

And then there is the idea of getting a more updated home in a good area, that doesn't have the best schools and crossing our fingers and toes that we can get Henry into a good charter, since we wouldn't have a good school district to fall back on. But in a good neighborhood instead of the ideal neighborhood we would be able to afford a more updated home or to update one ourselves. 

So I realize I have to get real and figure out what is most important to me and in what order. Things like: The actual house and being able to make it our own and having the space we want, the neighborhood being safe and walkable with parks nearby, convenience to schools, shopping, gym, restaurants, and the quality of the school district. 

And then also getting clear on what's most important to me when making a decision on choosing a school for Henry. Things like extracurriculars, PE, music, art, parental involvement, diversity, expectations, performance, etc. 

What's most important to you when considering a school for your child? 

Oh yeah...I know, I have options, poor poor me. #FirstWorldProblems

Also...my kids almost 6...months old. I'm nuts, right? I have years to worry about it. Well, except I want to move in a year or so which kind of makes this thought process more acceptable and not crazy. Right? I think it has to do with being a mom. My brain is so full of things that are on a constant carousel spinning around inside my head with crazy carnival music playing, leaving me dizzy with indecisiveness and an inability to focus.

Baby brain doesn't go away after the baby is born, it is magnified.

Blergh, is that really what I look like?

Now that 2013 is nearing (and clearly the world didn't end so there is in fact consequences to being terribly irresponsible with my eating habits), and I've seen some pictures of myself from this holiday season, I realize how incredibly dreadful I feel about how I look. And no, I'm not fat. I don't think I look like a beluga whale or anything. Perhaps a narwhal. But then again, as the old saying goes, "The camera adds 10 lbs." However I've always been skeptical about this much mentioned optical illusion. I think it was something said by an overweight person to make themselves feel better. Or to convince that person on the online dating website that they aren't actually as heavy as they appear in their profile picture and they are worth meeting up with, even with their sizable photo. 

So, given the above circumstances -- a new year approaching and seeing myself in pictures -- I have decided it's time to get healthy and lose some weight. For my own comfort and confidence. And I've also decided my husband will be joining me. But I don't think he will argue, sympathy pregnancy weight gain is no longer applicable, and he has been saying he feels like a walrus. His words not mine. Side note: His mustache smells like magic. Abandoned his kiss to get a wiff and it's like snickerdoodles and christmas tree all mixed together. 

As I was saying, getting healthy [slash] losing weight is one of many things I intend to tackle this next year, some of which I will be posting further about. And if that plan goes like most of my resolutions do, I'll get around to it by spring. Getting healthy and losing weight isn't enough incentive for me to actually get healthy and lose weight, with that in mind, and wanting nothing but to set myself up for success, I'm creating a point system, where we earn points for our exercise and then we can trade in our points for special things. My points will be used for things like "ME" time, a nap --which would be so incredibly glorious-- and a Crumbs cupcake. For my husband, his incentives are things like, an hour playing Starcraft and not having to go exercise. We're the worst. But I assure you, we are the best of the worst. 

I want to lose 10 - 15 lbs. That's ideal. Well 15 lbs is ideal, but I don't even know if I can physically lose 15 lbs, considering each of my boobs weigh like 8 lbs. Which sort of isn't fair. I've lost all of my pregnancy weight, and then some, but my boobs are now kind of huge. But, no excuses or martyrdom or anything. If you see a grumbly lady taking laps at the park, it's probably me, trying to earn my way to a cupcake or a trip to the bathroom in peace and quiet. Because going to the bathroom alone is a treat. Being stared at by a baby in a bouncy chair while taking care of my business has become the new norm. So if I don't earn enough of these points to earn some time to myself, I might just have to get another cavity so that I can spend an hour in the dentist's chair with my feet up. 

Wonderful, wonderfulness. 

Risks and Rewards

Henry has been doing this awesome thing where he sleeps through the night. And I'm talking, 7 hours straight, wakes up to eat, and then another 3 hours. Yes, I know, we are very lucky. We actually have dreams at night now, which I guess doesnt happen if you dont sleep more than an hour in a row. Oh to dream again...

With the arrival of these new sleeping patterns comes a consequence. It was too good to be true. Let's just say, Henry isn't pooping at night anymore because he is sleeping so well, so his first poop of the day is usually around noon. You'll understand the significance of the whole no-night-pooping and first-poop-at-noon thing once I share with you an experience I won't ever forget.

Last week we decided to take Henry to lunch with us to meet up with a good friend who, after 10 weeks, had yet to meet our little dude. We're enjoying our lunch at Sharkeys, seriously delicious nachos, when Henry spits up a little bit while James is holding him. Henry is getting really fussy and James notices that both of their shirts are wet, we figure it's from the spit up and possibly that he peed out his diaper. So James and I bring the diaper bag to the 1-person bathroom to change his diaper and clothes. The bathroom doesn't have one of the baby changing tables. Ugh. I bite the bullet and we decide to use our changing mat and put it on the floor...my poor child, so close to this disgusting bathroom floor. But we had no other option. We unbutton his romper and what we find is poop all over his little body. Up his back almost to his neck, on his tummy, and on his legs. It was absolutely insane. We looked at eachother like we were about to go skydiving -- a look of disbelief. Is this really happening? Can I bail on this whole situation right now? -- 

We get the outfit off, and as we pull it over his head more poop is getting smeared onto his body. We are being extremely generous with our wipe usage, getting him cleaned up, getting ourselves cleaned up, all the while a damn fly keeps buzzing around my kids bare, poopy butt. Poor child. And whoever said that newborns poop doesnt smell...that's got to be some sort of a myth. After ten minutes of James and I fumbling around trying to get this situation cleaned up, keeping Henry from squirming off of the changing mat onto the horrible bathroom floor, swatting away the fiesty flies, we emerged. Stronger than we entered. With images we won't ever forget...not only because they were so...unhumanely, but because the same thing happened the two days following.

The moral of the story is...when you don't poop at night, and your first poop is at noon, the mass of the poop being expelled, and the force with which it is being expelled, leads to some unbelievable velocity. Because I think that is what physics says happens...and because I am grasping to any last remnants of intelligence left in my mushy mom brain.

This is the sweet, sweet face that made that monstrosity of a blow out.

What I've Learned So Far

(flashback to 4 weeks ago when I wrote this and never hit the publish button because I was probably interrupted by a diaper change or an episode of Property Brothers on HGTV....)

It's been nearly six weeks, since the wonderful Henry has entered our lives. I can hardly remember what life was like before having our baby, let alone before being pregnant. Realizing that I am six weeks post partum, makes me accept that I may have been a little overambitious with my list of things I wanted to be doing before six weeks post partum. For instance, writing. Yeah...that hasnt happened, it looks as if my pregnancy baby brain has carried over into mom brain. Even when I get "free time" it is nearly impossible to actually focus on anything. I have enough of an attention span to check my facebook or read up on the daily news and political escapades, but it stops there. I have quite a few half written posts, half read books, and half done chores.

But I realized, I'm not entirely helpless...I have learned a few things that I figured I could share.

1. Pee, Poop, and Spit Up are not in fact capable of my demise. I'm actually okay with sleeping on a sheet that has dried spitup, or catching baby poop in my hand as I change yet another diaper.

2. Speaking of diapers...we go through ALOT. Atleast 10 a day, and I'm certain we get to 12 some days. A baby's body is so efficient that after they eat, they pee and poop within 10 minutes. Or atleast Henry does. And in mass quantities. With no modesty. Oh the humanity!

3. My body has somehow biologically morphed to functioning well with just 3 hours of sleep.

4. Things are alot easier than I expected. Trust me, it's been six weeks and I'm still alive, my husband is still alive, and so is Henry! All very good signs at this point in the game. 

5. Your marriage doesnt need to take a backseat once you have a baby. It may take more of an effort, but it is so possible to continue growing together. We make sure to love, laugh, and connect everyday, it's what keeps me balanced, or atleast fools me into thinking I'm balanced.

6. Time Flies! I found myself getting sentimental when I packed up the newborn clothes Henry has recently grown out of.  I cannot believe how much he has grown and how much time has already passed. Thinking about the future makes my heart ache...the day he goes to school, moves out, gets married...ohhhh say it aint so. 

7. There is no "right" way to do anything because all babies and all parents are different. We go with instincts and intuition most of the time. You really don't need to read tons of baby books, or to worry every minute of every day. 

(flashforward to now...the other half-dozen, half-written posts will be posted at some point) 

Henry Benjamin's Birthday

 Let’s start with the end in mind. Henry Benjamin was born July 21^st, though coming nearly two weeks before his due date, he arrived at a healthy 7lbs 14oz and 20 ¾” long.

At my 37 week appointment, my doctor examined me and found that I was 3cm dialated. I was of course surprised, as I had yet to feel any contractions of any kind throughout the pregnancy. A week later at my 38 week appointment, I was at 5cm dialated, again without feeling any contractions. My doctor felt certain she would see us at the hospital before my next appointment. And she was right!

Friday, at about 6:00pm I started feeling pain in my back. I initially dismissed it as back spasms, because I had always heard contraction felt like bad menstrual cramps, but these pains were all in my lower back. At about 6:30pm James insisted I start keeping track of the pains, how long they lasted and how far apart they were. By 7:15pm we were headed to the hospital! During the entire drive the back pains, which I now know were contractions, were 2.5 minutes apart and lasting about 40 seconds. They were pretty intense, but we stayed in good spirits, singing and dancing in the car. We arrived at the hospital, by 8:15pm and after being examined, I was already at 7cm dialated. They were all very surprised I was still on my feet. I guess I got lucky!

After the initial exams, and procedures we got the epidural started. It took 3 attempts to get it placed correctly – ouch! But it was amazing how I no longer felt contractions, oh sweet relief…for the time being that was. A couple of hours later I was at 9cm dialated, they broke my water, but the baby was still too high so we had to wait. Once the water broke, the most bizarre thing happened. I started feeling the contractions – in all of their intensity – in my right butt cheek. It was so strange (and painful). It turns out the baby must have been on my sciatica nerve. There was nothing they could do, the epidural had no effect and I had to experience every contraction – through my right butt cheek. After an hour of practice pushing,the baby was now low enough for my doctor to come and get this baby delivered! At 2am I then had to push for nearly 2 hours! It was exhausting, and incredibly daunting.

The second the baby was out and they laid him on my stomach I balled, I heard his first cry and I screamed. I was overwhelmed with love and relief and amazement. Here was our baby. Here was the crazy little dude that was stirring inside of me not long ago. He was real, and I could see him and feel him. It is an absolutely indescribable feeling.

There we were, after, meeting Henry Benjamin for the first time. He came out as an incredibly beautiful, healthy, strong baby and we couldn’t be more grateful! We spent two days in the hospital and couldn’t wait to head home. 

I could not have gotten through this pregnancy without my husband. The most amazing man on this planet, who with all of his love and support and certainty and vision, kept me sane, healthy, and positive. He is my bestfriend and was the greatest partner during labor and delivery, and is already a wonderful dad. 

So here we are, The Coopers, with our own little family. 

As most new parents can attest to, we are seeing all of the funny little quirks that our little dude has to offer, our iphones are already full of pictures of him, and we are completely in love.