What Happened to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness?

There is no pretty or poetic way to put this. Our finances suck. We are teetering on the edge of a financial abyss and we are not sure where the bottom is. And it SUCKS. Is it my fault because I "chose" to stay home with Nola? And I put "choose" in parenthesis because it wasn't really a choice as much as a necessity and the right thing for all of us but most importantly, the right thing for Nola. The fact is, I don't think I am to blame or should be blamed or should feel guilty (even though guilt certainly creeps into my head and heart often) because I know I made the right decision to stay at home with my child. She is happy and healthy and thriving and I don't think she would be the same child if she was away from me twelve hours a day and often more than that. My job was so far away from home. I just couldn't be that far from her. To me, it would have been irresponsible and cruel.



But I can't help being angry. We were the couple that did all the right things. I worked a job that wasn't "me" but it was stable and provided over half our income. We invested wisely. Paid our monumental student loans on time. Paid off credit card debt. Waited to have kids. Where did it get us? If I have any regrets, it is wasting all that time doing "the right things" when it didn't matter anyway. I wasted so many years in a job that took a little of my soul every day and driving a commute that I am pretty certain took years off my life. And all for naught. It is so demoralizing.

That said, I don't think I would change anything. Our successes and failures, our decisions good and bad, led us to Nola.

The Degradation of Conversation

A few statements that have come out of my mouth today.

Get out of her butt. --Said to the chihuahua Mateo who had his nose all up in Josie's (the mutt) business.

No, we don't eat dog food. --Said to Nola who has developed a fascination with the dog bowls. Hence, the next statement--

No, don't put your hand in there. It's yucky. --Said to Nola when she stuck her hand in the dog's water bowl.

Shoes don't go in the toilet. They go on your feet. --Said to Nola when she threw her shoe (fortunately an old shoe that no longer fits) into the toilet BEFORE I flushed it.

So, that is a snippet of my glamorous life.

Some More Los Angeles That I Miss

Hollywood Bowl
LA Opera
MOCA
Walt Disney Concert Hall - LA Phil
All Saints Church

Object Permanence Sucks

Nola has always been a little ahead of the curve, but the terrible two's at 10 months? Nola wants everything she sees and when/if she doesn't get it she has begun screaming following by whining to full on crying approaching TANTRUM status--falling to the ground, fists clenched, arms flailing.

And her memory is sharp. Distraction? Not for Nola. I had a Buddha statue atop my dresser. He is made of wood, heavy and holding a bowl with a sharp non baby friendly edge. When she noticed it a couple months ago, she began her "eh eh" hand waving in its direction. Buddha? You want Buddha? And I brought it down for her and showed her how to rub his wonderfully fat belly though she preferred to rub his head. From then on, it was "Ba Ba" when she saw him. Then she hit her head on his hard wooden head while trying to give him a kiss and got an wicked bruise on her forehead so it was bye bye Buddha. But she still knows that he is supposed to be there perched atop my dresser.

Yup, object permanence sucks. The Wet Ones wrapper I left on the table? She wants it. My cup of coffee? She wants it. The junk mail? She wants it. And won't forget about it. This has left me in a parenting quandary between safety and satisfaction. If I am watching would it be so bad for her to play around with the nursing pads? I mean, I know it says choking hazard and YOUR CHILD WILL DIE IF SHE TOUCHES THIS BOX right there on the package. But seriously, I AM RIGHT THERE WITH HER. And it satisfies her for the moment and so what? Am I screwing myself? Probably.




By the way, I am in the market for a more baby-friendly Buddha. Any thoughts?

When to Wean

If it were up to me, I'd choose 12 months. That's right. Nola would blow out her one year old birthday candle, eat a piece of gooey happiness from her ladybug birthday cake, and then swig down her first glass of whole organic milk and decide boobs were for babies--and you know how Nola hates being a baby.

But breastfeeding isn't just about food. It is a relationship and like any other it has its ups and downs. Nola and I started our breastfeeding relationship in the delivery room when she latched on like a pro and nursed until she fell asleep. It was a blissful beginning followed by a lot of drama. There was the thrush misdiagnosis which caused a full month of utter hell. There was also my oversupply issues followed by suspected food allergies which led me to eating a diet free of all eight common allergic foods.

And I am ready to eat cheese again. I had a dream a few nights ago that I was using a huge hunk of cheddar cheese as an edible utensil, dipping it into various food items and scarfing it down. I know, in the light of day this is vomit inducing but in the dream (and for a few seconds after I woke up) it was pure dairy heaven.

But breastfeeding is also about comfort and love and connection. It is also the easiest baby calmer tool given to mothers. Baby bumped her head? Whip out the boob. Baby not feeling good? Whip out the boob. Baby need to sleep? Yup, that's right, whip out the boob. Would I even know how to parent without breastfeeding? Could I comfort her in other ways? Is she ready for that? This is a relationship and two people are involved so even though I am beyond ready to have my body back to myself, I don't know when Nola will be.

Back in the Saddle

So, writing a blog has been a little tricky lately, being computerless and all. Yes, one of the many byproducts of quitting my job was having to give back the mac laptop. But I have a new computer now! Actually it is my husband's old computer and he got another computer from his boss. No, it is not a mac. But it was free and beggars really can't be choosers.

In Awe

A few weeks ago I developed the photos from one of the two cameras we have. Over 400 photos of Nola. My beautiful baby girl. The photos of her just born. The one my mom snapped of her that she wasn't supposed to. I am so glad she did. Just born. Brand new. And yet she was already there. Why should I be surprised by her activity level? By the fact that she never stops moving? She would shift inside my belly all day long. My belly noticeably taking on strange shapes and curves throughout the day. She was having fun. She was swimming and playing and moving at will. Her inability to move after birth surprised and frustrated her. Nursing was her only comfort in this world. She still LOVES to nurse. And she is now WALKING. My not even ten month old baby is walking. I am so happy for her. She has wanted to walk since she was born and now her muscles are finally capable of carrying her through this world. I am so happy and so sad. And so proud. And most of all, humbled by the experience of motherhood. By the experience of being Nola's mother.