summing up

Hello there, loves, and almost happy new year. Actually it would be more appropriate to say goodbye, 2006, you've been a good year. An awesome year. For us, anyway. I hope for you too.

2005 was a really rough year for our little family. First of all Helena was not in the world, which is just sad now that you think of it. She's such a little joy. And she's making the rest of this sad world so much better. But I digress. In 2005 our most wonderful and favorite dog of all time, our first dog as a married adult family and Ben's first dog ever was hit by a car and died. And I witnessed him getting hit by the car. And so did our neice, who was eight. And it was terrible and scarring and horrific. Anyway, so sad. But it happened. And a few elderly extended family members died. Which was also sad and hard. And then the kicker--our very greatest male friend was in a horrible car accident and he too passed away. After a week of intensive care, and lots of prayer, and brain damage, and the unplugging of his life support. And that was terrible.

To top the year off, my grandpa died (of old age/strokes) three days before Christmas. And that, as they say, was history. Dear 2005, you were not good to us.

But 2006, I thought, would be a different story. And it was. Although lied to by many friends with children about how "not that bad!" it is the first three months, and how I'd probably (really, most likely) be one of the lucky ones who went into labor early/had a baby who sleeps through the night immediately/lost all the pregnancy weight in two months or whatever, it's still pretty amazing. If you had told me mid-2005 about how amazing and breathtaking and hard and scary and awesome 2006 would be, I'm not sure I would have even had the capacity to understand.

I guess being a mom is full of this feeling of wow, life is amazing. I had my whole entire family here for Christmas--in-laws, parents, stepparents, sister and new fiancee of sister, neice, friends, etc. etc. etc. and it was something that I had dreamed of my entire adult life. Being able to say "hey, Christmas is at our house, come if you want!" is something that I bet a lot of children of divorced parents dream about. Not trekking back and forth from mom's to dad's or dad's to mom's and eating two dinners, having to keep families separate, having to tread lightly. I'm not saying that having everyone here was easy, but it was something I'd always dreamed of and I'm glad it happened. Everyone was couth and moderately appropriate, and from my family I can expect no less. It was good. And who knows what will happen for Christmas of 2007! I can blame the whole thing on Helena--if it wasn't for her we wouldn't have had all her grandparents--all five of them--and relatives, and friends over. Suddenly there's this extra reason for people to get along and be together, and for her and for that I'm so thankful.

Basically I'm going to just say that it's been a good year. Our first year as parents. Suddenly Helena is 7 months old now, and just around the corner is going to be her first birthday. It's just wonderous, something out of the movies, to look at her and have her look up with those perfect gray-blue eyes and smile. At me. Her mommy!

If you're pregnant please, do not let anything I write about scare you. It is going to be scary, of course--if you don't know that life sometimes can be scary, you haven't lived too much yet. But it is just something you can never know, so awesome. Not "awesome, dude, totally" awesome--the same kind of "awesome" I picture God to be. Like, something so amazing and out there and unknown and huge that we can't even imagine. And that is what being a parent is. And that's what being at the beginning of this year is, too--holding this little baby of a promise of a good year in your hands and nurturing it every day, until it grows into its full potential. Until you can say in, 2008, wow, that was awesome.

Happy new year!

stalker alert

Okay, I'm stalking moms. It's true. I go to the malls, to Payless Shoes, to Panera in search of them. The best thing about this new hobby is that I can spot a new mom a mile away--there is no camouflage for her. I can recognize her first by the sight of her diaper bag flailing in the wind, open, wipes falling out. She's usually pushing a stroller which is empty because her baby doesn't want to be strapped down, her arms full of said baby and maybe a coffee to detract from the 4-hours-at-a-time sleep she's surely getting, perhaps even something that can be eaten quickly and with one hand (think donut, protein bar, fruit-roll-up, apple, cookie, burrito...). It's easy.

What's hard comes next: I actually talk to her. Yes, it's true. First she will seem either confused (by the lack of baby noises coming from my mouth, especially if she is a stay-at-home mom) or taken aback--people usually talk to new moms via the baby, i.e. (my favorite) the question to baby which doesn't acknowledge mom as a person, just the chauffeur. Often times as a new mom I will hear, directed to baby Helena, "Ooooh! You're SOOO cute! How OLD are youuu?" And I, good naturedly, will say, "Oh, she's ___ months old," and they reply (to the baby) "Ohhh! ___ months already! You're such a biiiig girl, aren't youuu?" Or, worse, especially when she is wearing a blue dress, "Ohh, you're such a Biiiig Boyyy!" To which I often reply, "Yep, daddy doesn't really like when I put him in these pink tights."

So the mom that I am stalking at this time is amazed that I am talking directly to her, and not about the baby. It's stunning to us moms when you do that. I usually have some kind of mom-pick-up line (picture all of us mommies at a bar trying to make friends), like, "I can spot a new mom a mile away!" or "haha, how old is she?" or "COME ON DOWN TO AJ's HOUSE OF MOMMY FRIENDS!" Okay, that last one usually doesn't work. I ask her her name, her baby's name. We talk, and we exchange phone numbers.

I have made TWO (count 'em! TWO!) actual mom friends this way. I have also met and talked with a whole lot more than two, even got a few numbers (not on backs of matchbooks either). It's funny because while we're all apprehensive about some weirdo (read: me) coming up to us at the mall or wherever to say hello, we're also all so lonely. Actually not always lonely. Just alone. What I mean is that even if a mom has tons of support in her life and with her kids, a great partner and a true sense of self-worth, we're still doing a hell of a lot of things and not for us. The stuff that we're doing is for others. And that makes us feel sometimes like we're the only one in the world with these problems, or issues, or feelings, or whatever you want to call it today.

And maybe it's not only mommies. I know a lot of women who are doing so much to please so many people--bosses, partners in life, parents, siblings, children, etc. etc. etc. that they often forget entirely about themselves. It's not entirely wrong or bad that women can multitask and take care of others so much, it's just that sometimes we don't remember that ancient rule that "If Mommy's unhappy, ain't nobody happy."

So maybe this time of year when you are out getting Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/ et al gifts for everyone on your list, get yourself a little something too. It doesn't have to cost anything, even--maybe just a bath or a little walk alone or with just your friends. Maybe even just take a second to feel yourself in your own skin, and breathe, and remember that life is worth living for yourself, not only for everyone who is counting on you. And while you're doing that, don't forget to write down your phone number for me. Maybe I'll stalk you, too.

joy to my world

I can't sleep tonight. It's sick: I should be sleeping. My husband is asleep. My daughter is asleep (!). And what am I doing but laying in bed with my eyes wide open like a little kid on Christmas eve. I'm not sure what is happening to me, for heaven's sake. Maybe I'm getting a new superpower with which I don't need sleep anymore. I hope so!

Anyway, I just have to write and say how disgustingly happy I am. It's sick. I love my little family so much and with all of our struggles and trials and tribulations, all the things that are happening in our lives and the lives of our families, we're still together. We're still here; we're still safe. We still love each other.

There's not much more you can ask from life than a husband who loves you and will listen to you and the cutest sweetest little girl as a daughter. When I was about 8 months pregnant, it was getting into the later part of spring and Ben and I decided to go out to dinner. We had an entertainment coupon (which I don't think we even remembered to use...what a ripoff!) to this little place with live music. Okay, when we arrived and were seated I literally could not fit into the table where they sat us, I was so big and pregnant. There was this wall of tables really close together and seriously there wasn't room for me to squeeze my belly behind the table. As if that wasn't enough, the waitstaff--and I do mean the entire waitstaff--was all women. All very young women (i.e. girls of about 21 or so). All very skinny, gorgeous, hot, smokin' women with little tiny tops on and skintight jeans. And implants. And I was feeling even better about myself and my big belly not being able to fit behind a table, as you can imagine, after seeing them.

There I was, sweating, tired, HUGE, uncomfortable, in this little restaurant with all these hottie sexy waitresses trying to find us a table into which I would fit, seriously, when I had an epiphany. Here I was, wishing like hell that I looked like Candi or Bambi or Staci with their tiny outfits and hot bodies. When I realized (and if you are male reading this, this is true--take it from me and all other women out there) that every single one of those girls wished she were me--all of them would have given an implant to be happily married to a great guy with a baby on the way. And although I still wanted to wake up in one of their bodies, it did help me get through the rest of the night.

So here I am at my computer late in the night (for us, it's really only 11 but when you never sleep...), writing to anyone who will hear that I have it really good. I know this. If you're reading this take a quick second to think about how good you have it, too. Sometimes in life you have to have those little moments that make you say, hey, woah, this is awesome. And sometimes they have to come late in the night. I hope I can help you have one. Because it's a good life, eh?