PunkieFamily Signing Off

I wrote this - intending to end the blog - but it I wanted to write on it so much during later months and years, you'll see that this was not, in fact, the end of the blog.

Dear Daniel,
This is my last post on behalf of your PunkieFamily in waiting. Today marks the end of your first month in the world, and it’s long overdue for me to close this blog. I started it because I wanted to record your father’s and my path of making your path ready. I’ve done my best to keep a these memories; and your dad has chimed in some too. But now the getting ready is over and it’s time for us to get on with the parenting. I can’t say whether we were as ready as we thought we were or could have been, but over all, I think we’ve done just fine. Your dad and I are at the very beginning of a long and in many ways, still unfathomable journey. I look forward to sharing it with you and your dad, and with the many wonderful people who have helped us to prepare ourselves for you.
Love, Mom

Who am I?

Daniel,
Do you wonder who your mother is? Probably not. That's a pretty abstract thought, and you might be precocious but I doubt you're concerned with this. Anyway, I'm kind of fascinated. A year ago I'd have said I'm a student, a social activist, a friend, a wife, a hobbiest, and if I'd thought long on the topic, I might have come up with other things. To this I would now add the following:

• I am a spit rag. (My shirt is much more convenient when the fluids are coming fast).
• I am a chef. (The pediatrician discusses the many choices there are, even w/r/t infant formula feeding. The decisions are ours to make).
• I am a journalist. (I am still trying to record your life story for documentary purposes).
• I'm a night-watchperson. (I still check on you a lot before you go to sleep, which is still very late at night, but we're working on that).
• I'm a photographer. (I'm still trying to fill up a camera for my mother, and my mother just mailed us a new digital camera so that she can be sure to watch your growth via photos.
• I'm a percussionist. (I play your back in search of the elusive belch).
• I'm a laundress. (I wash LOTS of laundry; but your father washes more).
• I am a reporter. (I keep your grandparents abreast of developments; e.g., we saw the pediatrician today; he says you are physically strong, weight gain is on track, and that much to my surprise he thinks your eyes are going to be brown.)
• I'm a doting idiot. (I say stupid things in stupid voices). I won't apologize for that; I blame the fact that I'm so totally in love with you).

Many big kisses,
Your mom

What to do on dreary days?

According to my weekly e-mail update, “Many moms (and dads, by the way, though the e-mail seems not to recognize this) start to feel lonely and isolated at this point. Your partner may be back at work (mine is not, thank-you Bill Clinton for FMLA and thank-you PunkiePapa, for being liberated and brave), your own mom may have gone home (mine has), and your most frequent guest may be the pizza-delivery guy (occasional, but not often, thanks to the lovely meals that friends have brought to us). Meanwhile, the constant tick-tick-tick of your baby's feeding schedule may have you feeling tethered to your rocking chair (yep!).”

So here we are. A change of scene would be lovely, but it’s flu season and we really don’t want to take Daniel anywhere that he might be exposed to the flu, or, as a nurse mentioned the other day, to “The Chatham County Crud,” which is also going around. Going outside would also be very nice, but it’s freezing out; not a good idea for a brand new baby. So, what to do to keep from losing my mind and to still be connected to the outside world? As I finish this entry, it's 57 degrees outside and beautiful; but when I started it, it was 29 degrees outside and gross. Here is my list of things you can still do with a perplexingly fussy baby in your arms when it’s 29 degrees outside. This list is not complete. More ideas are welcome; nay, requested!
1. Read other people’s blogs. Keep blogging, buddies.
2. Listen to books on CD/Tape/Computer
3. Remember all the cd’s you’ve forgotten you had and that you really liked once-upon-a-time.
4. Watch all the stuff saved up on the DVR that you meant to watch at some point but never did.
5. Do bicep, tricep, and pectoral work by lifting the baby in various ways. (If Daniel gains any more weight, I have to stop this because for another 3 weeks, my doctor is very firm on the not lifting anything heavier than 10lbs thing, even if the 10+lbs thing is Daniel).
6. Type one-handed, probably-typo-filled blog entries.
7. Call whomever you owe a phone call. Grandmothers, are an especially good choice.
8. Read parenting magazines (they don’t require two hands to support them, as most books do). They are cluttering up the apartment and aren’t worth keeping around. They generally have only a few useful items (the latest recalls and a coupon for ear medicine, for instance). Once skimmed, they can be recycled without guilt.
9. If the baby is willing to hang out in the sling, prepare dinner and invite friends over (provided that they don't have the Chatham crud or the flu).
Hugs, Mom

Adding a new trick to my bag: faking it when all else fails.

It's funny how feeling competent seemed to play into my morning with Daniel today. In the last couple of days Daniel has been awake and alert more, which is GREAT, but he's also fussier than he's been to date. Thank goodness, I get a weekly e-mail called "ages and stages" from Parenting magazine that tells me what to expect when he's a week old, two weeks old, three weeks old, etc. This week's e-mail warned us that this would be a fussier week than we've had thus far. Knowing that this is normal is hugely comforting because if it's normal, it means we're doing a fine job of parenting thus far. At least, that's how I'm choosing to look at it. That's important because I'm learning that this kid and I are still connected in a funny, important way. That is: if I can convince myself that I'm equipped and capable for the task of caring for this precious little being, not only do I feel better, but he does! He knows! So I'm trying something new.

Ever since I was in middle school, I've felt strong and confident and happy and exhilerated when I sing along with cd's of people singing songs I know and like, and who sing way better than I do. This morning, as with most mornings lately, Daniel has seemed really unhappy. It's none of the usual culprits and it can be pretty disheartening to try and try everything that's ever helped and find it not working. So today I held Daniel close in a soft, warm blanket, turned on some Audra McDonald and danced around (badly) and sang along (badly). I should add, merely playing that cd worked yesterday, but today not at all. While singing, I felt good despite the fussiness; and lo-and-behold, slowly but very surely so did he. It's an awful feeling to know that something is hurting Daniel, but the consolation is that it's a wonderful feeling to be holding him and to feel like I've been a part of healing whatever was tormenting him.