Baby Jail: Happy to be Locked Up

This weekend has the potential to to be a shining star on my November social calendar. Friday, what is sure to be the birthy fundraising event of the year is happening in Nulu and Saturday a group of my closest friends are getting together for food, adult beverages, and excellent conversation, at the newly opened El Camino in the Highlands. A place I've been dying to try.  My calendar, however, is blank...unless you count renting The Brave Little Toaster and watching it with my three year old.

The reason for this is we're in baby jail, a not-so-flattering term for declining adult only events because your child won't take a bottle, is having separation anxiety, or just isn't ready for a babysitter yet. In our case it's a little of all of that.

Hillary and I tried a dinner date a few weeks ago and ended up eating our dinner out of Styrofoam boxes in our living room. The babysitter called after an hour and a half (we waited 45 min for a table) saying Marlowe had been screaming the entire time. I wasn't entirely surprised. Hill and I laughed and got our food to go. But I have to admit there was a brief moment at that restaurant, as I was slamming my mojito, in which I thought maybe we should just stay. Familiar voices crept into my mind: the baby will be fine, crying is good for her lungs, you have to live your life.

I snapped out of it pretty quickly and remembered that my husband and I have chosen a different path for our family. We want to make decisions that respect our kids and their feelings and emotions, and that means taking into consideration the undeveloped emotional state and understanding of our five month old. I thought of her crying for two hours because she needed her parents, okay, let's be real, her mom, and my decision was easy. We'll try again when she's older.

So this weekend, while I will miss celebrating a huge accomplishment for local women and enjoying delicious food with my besties, it's okay. This time with baby Marlowe is fleeting. Soon she'll be toddler Marlowe and before we know it middle-schooler Marlowe and I'll be wishing I had some of that separation anxiety back in our lives.

Embracing Your Burgeoning Buttinski

In the last six months conversations between my husband and I start out as normal, but within a sentence or two Becks jumps in with a "Hey, Mom!" or "Guys, watch this!" Depending on what Hillary and I are saying to each other dictates if we stop what we're saying to indulge him or ask him to please wait until we're finished speaking. We don't have any hard and fast rules on interrupting, we just do what we feel. He just wants to be included, we get it.

Now with his sister here, it's gotten to the point where Hillary and I can only have a conversation after he's in bed. Sometimes, though, you just need to talk to another adult in the house before 8:45 p.m. So I've found that making eye contact with Beckett while I tell Hillary a story works kind of well.

This is an actual conversation I had with my three year old (which was really with my husband).

Me: I was listening to that podcast that Alec Baldwin does and he was interviewing Chris Columbus.

Becks: Uh-uh.

Me: (Still looking directly at Becks) Did you know that Gremlins, his first screenplay, only got made because Steven Spielberg walked passed it laying on some assistants desk and liked the title?

Becks: (Never breaking eye contact) Oh. Okay!

Then he just walked away and Hillary and I laughed and laughed. Until he ran back down the hall and said "Hey mom! What's a Pod Cat?"

Touched Out

I was in month two of my maternity leave, sitting in a cozy arm chair in our family room, nursing my six week old for, oh, maybe the 70th time that day, when my sweet and loving two and a half year old son scrambled up in the chair and squeezed himself in the minuscule space between me and the chair arm. He kissed my cheek and I said thank you, but I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. The July heat was penetrating the room and getting the best of the air conditioning. And little Marlowe is like having a portable heater strapped to your chest. I kissed him back and suggested he play with his toys on the floor, but he didn't budge.

He sang and patted his sister on the head. It was so cute, but all I could think was get these kids off of me! I tried again to distract my son and told him I thought I heard Piggy calling for him to play over by the couch.

"Piggy's not here, mommy," he said. "He's in my room."

Just then my husband decided to take a break from his writing and come say hello to us all. He smiled at the sight of his little family piled on top of each other in the arm chair. He came over, placed a hand on my shoulder and kissed my head. The kiss that broke the camel's back.

"Okay!" Was all that came out of my mouth, but I quickly handed the baby to my husband and walked, through the kitchen, into the living room and out the front door. I was sort of surprised to find myself out there. My body had been on autopilot in a hunt for space. I took a deep breath and sat down on the step.

I was touched out, over touched, suffering from no-more-touchiness. I love nursing my baby girl and I love snuggling with my little boy and I love when my husband kisses me on the head, all a separate times.  It makes me feel like I do not own my body and I feel out of control, which is not enjoyable for me.

This is happens to a lot of moms, dads too probably, although I think dads suffer more from lack of touch in the early month of a new baby, but I'm sure there are cases to be made. It happened to me when it was just Beckett, but now that I have two, it's a bit more frequent.

I try now to give Beckett a project when I'm going to nurse, a puzzle or some crayons. That works, sometimes. Other times, if my husband is around, I sneak away to another room and shut my eyes while I nurse Marlowe. And sometimes there is nothing I can do. Beckett needs me, Marlowe needs me, I breath through it and take a long bath later, if time permits or allow myself two glasses of wine after Beckett's in bed and let Hillary bond with Marlowe over a nice warm bottle.

Gardening Efforts

In addition to growing a baby this spring, I also started growing a garden. It's my first and I'm certainly learning what works and what doesn't. Here is a few photos of what it's looking like today.

We've got kale, arugula and beets in this first one. The arugula is supposed to be super fruitful, but I'm not finding that to be the case. I think I'll plant more next year. My husband made these awesome raised beds out of palettes last fall. I am quite fond of them. 

Besides needing to be weeded, I think the carrots are doing rather well. I am going to pick the lettuce this week sometime. 

Cucumbers love us. It's our heartiest plant by far. 

Gorgeous daylilies that we transplanted last fall from a neighbor. They require little from us, which I like. 

I am so in love with these zinnia. I planted them from seed and they've just shot right up. I couldn't be more pleased. 

All It Takes Is A MOMent

Whew, okay, here I am. (Smooths wrinkles out of skirt and fluffs hair.) I've returned to the party that is life. I had to take a break there for a minute. My sweet little Marlowe Sawyer arrived 7 weeks early and had a 16 day stay in the NICU. There's a lot of emotions there. I'm still processing. We'll talk later.

The important thing is, she's perfect. And home. And, who would have guessed, easier to parent at this moment than our spirited toddler. 

My point for today, however, is a message to new moms. I just left the house for the first time alone in a month and I feel amazing. In these first weeks of being consumed by my newborn, I totally didn't even notice that I needed a moment to myself.

As I cranked up the AC in the car, rolled down the windows (I know, terrible) and turned up the radio I felt like someone splashed me in the face with a bucket of icy cold water. I felt completely rejuvenated singing along to that new Pharrell, Robin Thicke track - Blurred Lines - I'm sure you've heard it. If not, though, seriously ya'll, check it out. Feel good hit of the summer.

It's crazy how a short drive to get an allergy shot, of all things, can change the feel of the entire day. I highly recommend a mini escape to new moms (all moms) , even if it's just for a few minutes with something that makes you happy, besides your baby. You might not feel like you need it, but you do. Trust.