Wednesday, January 30, 2013


It strikes me that the month of January has much significance in my life.  My mother was born in January.  I love Capricorns.  Much later, I started dating my husband during a cold and snowy January in Amherst.  He's a Libra.

B was conceived in the January in which Obama was inaugurated for the first time.  Once we had decided we were ready to start a family, it took us a while.  If I think hard enough I could probably tell you the day he was conceived.

Last week I realized that last year, in January, I was three months pregnant with W.  At Christmas, he had been just a secret in my belly.  You could probably smell anxiety as I walked... We were having the same tests - the quad screening - that we had had with baby girl.  I forget the date of the first ultrasound but I know the room it was in was where I had an ultrasound of B once.  I also had the blood test. I tried not to tell many of the health professionals about what had happened because, well, I didn't want to talk about it.  But I told the ultrasound technician who of course brought in a doctor who saw some alarming things.

It's kind of a long story but we got a call from the midwife and I cried for who knows how long and thought it was going to be the same.  We ended up going back to the hospital, to see J and Dr. Amazing and we had to have the CVS done again.

It was on Martin Luther King Day last January that J called to tell us that the baby was chromosomally perfect.  And this January, that baby is perfect in every way.

He cut his first tooth on New Year's Day and is working on the second as I type.


Sunday, January 27, 2013

Solid food welcome here.

Someone here will be six months old tomorrow.


We don't go out to eat often because of the same reason - I think - that it is difficult to write about motherhood. Fear.

I over share when I'm too tired.

Sentences that start with "when I was a whale..."

Ginger snaps.

More on these things, soon.

Monday, January 21, 2013

What works.

I have to confess I like time away from my children. And as soon as I've separated from them - even if it's that they've just gone to sleep - I long for them.

My job requires I talk for periods of time on the phone. I need to take precise notes and need silence. So while I work at home, my kids aren't always here with me. I feel really guilty about this. I hate being at home without them.

And sometimes, I love it. I mean, there are only two kid free days a week and most of the time I'm on the phone every moment of those days. Then there are the three days I'm here with just a baby. We do a lot of work together on those days and even when Ben is home later in the day, I'm sometimes typing away. On the weekends, we are all home and I'm catching up with work. So when I get to just work, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I sometimes love it.

I feel like I am never doing enough of any one thing. This seems like an age old problem for most moms. So it seems like we should be nicer to one another.

I was talking to a friend of mine who is a mom who has a very full time job. She misses her kids like crazy and she wishes she could be with them more.

I was telling her about a conversation I recently had where someone made me feel badly about my own situation where I work at home but am not a stay at home mom, per se. My friend and I proceeded to talk about the ridiculousness of moms being down on each other at every opportunity... birthing....nursing....sleeping. It's endless. Even when it comes to work. We all say "life is hard enough" but do we really live that?

Do we really realize that we are all just doing what works for our family? My new new years resolution (aside from updating this blog) is to never make an assumption about another mother. Never. We have some idea how hard it is so it seems like a silly thing to do, to assume someone else isn't dealing with the same challenge, plus whateverelsewedon'tsee, times lifeasitis, divided by itsjusthard.


Monday, January 14, 2013

When I'm done with laundry.

When I'm done with the laundry, this will magically turn into a blog that gets updated. 

I'm ready for a cliche, so I've created a new beginning. 

Stick around, this could be cyclical. 

All puns matter deeply to me.