hey y'all

Or, hey everyone I haven't alienated by not writing more! It's lame to say we've been busy, but it's totally true. We close next Monday (yeah!) and have a house full of boxes and big bags under our eyes. Between packing, momma-ing and trying to not get fired from my job for being overwhelmed and distracted, the days and weeks have been blending together.

Here's my favorite picture from the past month. I only look relaxed because I'd had a giant margarita with an extra shot, and Maura has her fake smile that she does whenever the camera gets in front of her, which usually causes her eyes to close and cracks me up.

One other fun fact is that outside of work, this was the first time in months I put on a clean t-shirt that was actually mine and not Jay's. As much as I hate to admit it, I've turned into a dumpy housewife who wears her husband's t-shirts and thinks it's OK.

I reflect on this a lot. As I was packing I was looking through photo albums and got caught up on a particular old picture of me, taken in DC the fall after I'd moved to Boston. I was visiting. I had on a red leather jacket, Diesel jeans and my favorite bright green weird hand-knit scarf. My hair was cute and short and highlighted, and the person who took it said of me, "Wow, she's got so much style. Dosen't she have so much style?" The picture captures that feeling exactly, but as I looked at it, it seemed like another person in another time. I guess, in a sense, it was. I mean honestly, I had a student come up to me once and remark how he'd never seen me in the same outfit twice all semester. At the time, this made my fucking day, no joke. But I guess, no, I KNOW, I can't get a better accessory than the lady above, right? Identity issues continue, clearly...

Another side effect of moving is that we've Googled real estate listings so much we killed our computer and had to get a new one. It just arrived today. And as I was transfering files, I found other old remnants of my past life. Stories I'd started, but never finished. My God how I used to love to write. And today, for an hour, I did. I'd started this story in October of 2004. What was I doing then? Well, I was with Jay, working somewhere I can't remember and I think, had just moved in with Jay in Taunton that spring. I may have been doing my triathlons, as this was the fall before I attempted my failed run of the Boston Marathon (and I have never set one foot in front of the other to run again). I can't even remember the exact details, but reading this old story, and picking up today and writing a few minutes more on it five years later felt so good, like I returned to something I had been missing but was always there. (Cliche, cliche, I know.) I actually remembered as I read this the ending I wanted it to have, unwritten all these years. I called it "seagulls." One day soon, I will finish writing it. Here we go on the so-far parts:

We were at the beach in Gloucester, Ethan and me, and Elise, the woman from the office. Not mine, not my office, but Ethan’s. She was, or she is, Canadian. This means nothing to me, but it means everything to Ethan. He started working at the office right after we moved here, right after we moved from Virginia to Boston, so he could work at this job at Fidelity and I could be, well, so I could live with him, because I’d just finished grad school in ophthalmology and thought it was the adult thing to do, move in with my boyfriend, even though we’d be conducting our relationship long distance, me in South Carolina in grad school him in Virginia gainfully unemployed waiting for a dream job to fall from the sky—anyway, all he could talk about was this nice woman from work, how she was Canadian, and how they might try to send her back because she can’t hold down a job because everyone is getting laid off and how she was living with this boyfriend but they just broke up and she still has to live with him because it’s so hard to find a place in the city and my God? Can you believe it? No, I said, no, I can’t believe it. So can she come to the beach with us today, I kind of already invited her and it would be hard to back out now? And naturally I was compelled by this Canadian so I rolled our towels tightly and sorted through our sunscreen bottles and said sure, fine, we’ll bring her along.

Not that I was thrilled, I mean really, come on, to Ethan, Canadian’s are exotic. And this one, according to Ethan, has even lived in South America and Australia and London and New York and I mean, can you believe it? No, I said, no, I can’t believe it. And then he leans into me like he’s gonna kiss me but instead slaps my butt with both of his hands and grabs tight and laughs with his head back, his neck long and knotty, and I think, this is the man I am choosing to live with. Maybe the Canadian can have him if she wants.

And that morning we went to the beach is when he said to me the strangest thing he’s ever said, and I didn’t know what to attribute it to, but this is what he said. He said,

I just want to warn you I might not be affectionate today, because I’ll be around people from the office.

People? I said. Only the Canadian will be there.

so we picked her up; she lived in the North End, in a small walk-up above Mike’s Pastries, and she was waiting out front of there with the nice little blue and white box tied with string they give you, and she had a whole bag made out of macramé that was filled with food, a bread loaf sticking out near her shoulder, apples settling on the bottom, like a fucking cornucopia or something. We pulled up next to her and Ethan is waving and I got out to let her in the back and Ethan says, “Honey, babe, you wanna let Elise sit in front?”

I looked at him and then looked at her and she smelled like pastries and I should have known then.

So we’re on the beach, and she’s got this spread around her, and we are three across on an old quilt, Elise in the middle, and I get bits and pieces, literally, of everything. My bagels don’t go over big; we are eating brie and grapes from her macramé bag. But she and Ethan each take two, maybe even three, bites for themselves before they even offer me one. I am watching this family to my left, a big family, not in quantity but size. The biggest family I’ve ever seen. And I watch them, the mother in a green amazon print tank suit and stained pink knit shorts, bunched up high in her inner thighs while she sits in her umbrella chair, her calves fat and touching, leaving her feet a full two feet apart buried in the sand. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, maybe they weren’t that far apart, but you could have fit a rubber ball in there, at least. Her ankles were this perplexing salmon color, and I wanted to tell her, don’t be stupid, put some sunscreen on those feet.

Ha! That's a far as I got. But I know how it all turns out and will write it. I will. It has to do with seagulls, eating sandwiches.

well, hello there...

Where to begin? Look at Miss Lady Girl! She sits! She sticks her tongue out! She has chub! It's unbelievable how cool she is. She's 8 months already, and just the best thing ever. Lots to update on: she's 16 lbs. now, moving up to the 23rd percentile. She eats all kinds of fruits and veggies, and if you let her, will roll from one side of the room to the other. She can sit up, and sticks her butt up in the air like she's gonna crawl, but I think she's just being a tease. She's got the rolling down pat, and it is much more efficient than trying to scoot, at least in her mind. She is a true blabber mouth, talking all the time. She'll wake up at 5 a.m. and just lay there talking to herself for an hour, totally content, taking the occasional break to suck on her feet. She's remained the absolute happiest baby, still only crying when she's exhausted. Still sleeping through the night, about 7 pm to 5:30 am. Two long naps (two to three hours) during the day. Not enough hair yet to do much with, except this pathetic attempt at a faux-hawk.


She has discovered the multiple uses of her tongue, which includes her personal favorite, "pretending to eat my food but instead spitting it so far that some lands on my forehead."

But I can't resist this face, even when I smell sweet potatoes on me all day at work.

In other exciting news, I'm writing this from jail as I recently got arrested for arson for burning down this house:

Just kidding, of course. While not as scandalous, I'm equally as excited to report that we bought our first house!! This has been a big part of what's kept me away from blogging -- all of my old pastimes have been replaced by HGTV. I can't believe we did it. It's about a year before we thought we would, but our pal Obama and the $8,000 first-time home buyer stimulus rebate were too much to pass up. And interests rates are SOOOOO low, and housing prices are finally reasonable (at least in Massachusetts, where two years ago you would have needed $350,000 to buy a trailer.)

It's back to the City of Champions for us, good ol' Brockton, MA. It's a beautiful Cape on a corner lot, 4 br., big back yard, MUD ROOM (my favorite, reminds me of Maryland), totally renovated kitchen, baths, roof, hardwood floors, totally move-in ready (sans some nasty iridescent wallpaper), a big basement waiting to be finished. We're just thrilled. Jay and I, who rarely agree on anything right off the bat, both walked in and knew this was the house. We close June 15! It's been very stressful, mainly because we pretended for a month or so that it wasn't and then the reality caught up with us. And, we still struggle with our work schedules and the fact that we never actually get to see each other (still). Honestly, in the course of a work week, we see each other for a total of one waking hour (if that) four days out of five, and then on Tuesday, our night together, we get maybe 4. It's tough, really tough. Tougher than I thought. But we make it work.

All in all, things are great. My post-partum depression has radically subsided, although I still have many moments of panic and sadness at the thought that one day, something might happen to me or to her or to Jay. Inevitably, something will, and I'm getting used to the idea that that's just the way life goes. Work is fine (eh), although I've had two colleagues, totally great people, who've passed away in the past two weeks, both way too young to die, both tragic. I'm trying hard everyday not to internalize things like that, but it's hard for me to feel OK with just a quick moment of sadness. But I'm getting better.

Not pregnant with triplets, or even a singleton, and I haven't reached the point yet of wanting to shave my head. Check back again next week...

we are alive

for those who may still check here...update coming tonight! Am I pregnant with triplets? Buying a house? Contemplating shaving my head? Taking a vacation to Brazil? Find out the answers to these burning questions and more tonight.

In the meantime, here's our smooch-a-roo.

happy valentine's day!

Sorry I've been MIA lately; as you can imagine, life has been quite busy! Between work and Maura and trying to spend a few quality minutes with Jay, the few moments I do find myself with nothing to do I can't imagine doing anything else but going to bed.

Finally, I think we are settling in to all the changes that have occurred over the past year. Maura is an absolute joy. It's almost unfathomable to me some times that we have such a great girl and that we made her ourselves.Also, there's not been a whole hell of a lot to report. She's still sleeping 11 - 12 hours a night, with long 2 and 3 hour naps throughout the day. She's babbling, laughing, eating her peas, has two teeth and a third on the way. I'm even charmed by her when she's super cranky. We're just so in love. I think I'll let these Valentine's Day pictures (in her adorable dress from the Crofton Dunn's -- thank you!!!) say everything else.

a tooth! a tooth!

It's official, my girl is all growned up! Well, not quite, but she's five months old now and got her first tooth! The second one is coming up fast and not too far behind. We had a feeling it would cut soon; poor thing has been particularly cranky lately, and drooling like a garden hose. Apparently Jay and I were both earlier teethers, and apparently that predicts how our spawn will teethe. Of course, we're already paranoid it's coming in crooked. I had braces twice that never worked; Jay never had braces but wished he had. Add it to the list of things to worry about . . .

She's still sleeping SO good; so good in fact, that 12 hours of pee collects in the front of her diaper and keeps leaking out. I swear they weigh a good two pounds when we take them off her. We're going to try a few different brands to see what works better, but honestly, that's the biggest issue we're having recently. That, and also that she seems to be developing some pretty severe stranger anxiety. She's usually fine if we're within sight, but she's been so sad and crying around her grandparents and when she's come to our work places it's bordering on embarrassing. I always thought, oh, I'll have one of those kids who will go to ANYBODY and is totally adaptable. Yeah, not so much. We know we need to get her out and socialize her more; she certainly runs lots of errands and sees people at Target and the grocery store and the mall, but it may be time for some more structured play groups where she can interact more. But frankly, it's hard to motivate in the dead of winter. We'll get to it . . .

As you'll see from the pictures, she's also quite annoyed lately with the camera. She'll smile and laugh and be all silly and then the second you put a camera in front of her, she stops. It's kind of amusing to watch her stubborn little personality unfold. Jay's the first to admit he's one of the more stubborn people in the world, and she seems to be taking her lead from him.

All in all, nothing major to report other than that we have a perfect five month old!

whoops! i forgot the goods

Hmmmm...maybe I'm totally self-absorbed after all! I forgot the real goods, the Maura stats!

At Maura's four month check-up on December 29, she was 12 lbs. 12 oz. and 24 inches. She's moved up to the 24th percentile!

She continues to sleep through the night, from about 8:30 p.m to 5 or 6 a.m., sometimes longer. The key has always been swaddling her, but lately she's been breaking free of it so last night was the first night we tried without it. She went down at 8:30 p.m., and it's now 6:30 a.m. and she's just starting to stir. Success without the swaddle! Actually, the real reason we stopped swaddling her so suddenly is that yesterday she decided to perfect the back-to-belly roll, and did it like 40 times over the course of the day. We always put her down on her back, and I didn't want her to roll over all swaddled up and unable to move her arms. So, of course, the second I put her down on her back last night, she flopped right over to her belly where she's been all night. A belly sleeper like her momma! The doctor said it's fine that she belly sleeps now that she can roll over and hold her head up and such.

We also got the green light to start giving her some rice cereal, which we've done and she LOVES. She only gets like a tablespoon twice a day, but she really does seem to enjoy it. See exhibit A. We'll give it a few more weeks, then on to the good stuff like peas and bananas. Yum. Now I see why we got so many bibs. It's a messy endeavor feeding a 4 month old!


Aside from the rolling, which is so cool, Jay gets her to laugh these total belly laughs that have us both in tears. She is such a happy baby still, only cranky when she's hungry or tired. We really are lucky. Many people remind me frequently that we may not be so lucky with the next. It really has been just so much fun, and it gets better everyday.

welcome 2009

I am so fortunate at what the last year has brought me, and what the new year promises. I have an amazing husband, a loving and supportive family, a great career, a roof over my head, a dog that could lick my face until she passes out from exhaustion, and the most brilliant and beautiful daughter I could ask for. I have friends who stick by me through sweetness and stupidness. I know I am luckier and more blessed than most. Still, sometimes I struggle, and I think that's important to recognize. Because people who struggle with the life changes that motherhood brings are not naive, are not selfish, are not all the other names we get called that are accompanied by the eye roll that implies, "Well, what did you expect? Perfection? Bliss?"

I think it's no secret that since Maura was born I've struggled a bit, and it reached a head around the time of my last post, to the point where I looked my amazing husband right in the face and thought he'd be better off without me. My daughter, who I would die for, would be better off without me. After a scary few nights, I realized what was happening. This wasn't normal, I wasn't supposed to feel like I was sinking.

I called a therapist I used to see. I called my doctor. There's no shame in this. I admit it only because it's important to recognize the signs of depression and to act IMMEDIATELY. I wish a breaking point on no one. I sat here with my daughter in my arms, breathing softly, and I wept as I listened to some lovely Christmas carols I had downloaded off itunes. My favorite carol has always been "O Holy Night." I'm in no way, shape or form religious, but the sentiment of "fall on your knees, oh hear the angels voices" is one that always gets me. "Oh weary worlds rejoicing" is another. I just felt weary with myself. "Until he appeared, and our soul felt its worth." "And yonder breaks a new and glorious morn." I was so utterly moved by the idea that I finally had my daughter, the thing that made my soul feel whole, each day worth waking up to, and it was too much, too overwhelming to feel such love. Too much feeling like I didn't deserve something so great. It was beyond what I had ever touched or felt before. It truly was glorious, and I wanted to fall on my knees to rejoice in it.

Things are better now. In a few short weeks, I've come out of that place of desperation and begun to appreciate what I have. I was feeling ready to drown, and as much as that's scary to admit, I don't think it's abnormal. And I understand that it's not talked about, that it's the secret shrouded in the proud face of motherhood that we all put forth. But it was there for me, the sense that my daughter deserved better than what I could ever give her, and I'm so glad that's finally dissipating.

I'm no expert in anything, but I've experienced it all: love, loss, joy, ambivalence, and everything in between.I've made choices that I regret and think about most days of my life. I wish for her only an ounce of the heartbreak and uncertainty I've brought upon myself, but wish her tenfold the love that I feel for her, her father, my friends and family. But I am worth more than I think; my daughter can learn from me, and I can learn from her, as I do everyday. I'll never be alone again, and neither will she. Sometimes my love for her is too great to even think about.

So, I guess the bottom line is we are well. We are loved, blessed, and finally, our souls feel their true worth, because of this amazing and divine creature. Could I really have helped create something so great? Is she really part of me?