little man...

Psalm 17:8 Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.

i was staring into leif's big blue eyes the other night, just sure he could see himself in mine, when i remembered a lesson from when i went to israel 6 years ago (!).  

what our teacher had taught us was that the original hebrew to english translation for "apple of your eye" was actually "little man of your eye."  at first, this seems nonsensical.  how can we be the little man of God's eye?  

however, he went on to explain, it means that God himself draws so near to us that we can see our own reflection in His eyes. 

i remember learning this lesson in Israel and getting the chills because i was so moved.  i tend to sometimes make God so big, mighty and powerful, that i forget the intimacy He has with us (if we let Him in).

but i don't think i truly understood this closeness, until those beautiful, sparkling, blue eyes were gazing dead on into mine.  leif just basks in your gaze.  holding him close while his eyes meet yours is a somewhat holy experience.  as his mother, i feel so much love and awe when i look into those endless, blue pools.  in that moment, nothing can harm him.  he is safe in my arms, trusting me with every molecule of his little being.  

while leif and i were sharing this quiet moment, i realized that if he looked, he could probably see himself in the reflection of my eyes.  he was so physically close to me that not one part of him was hidden.

and that was how the point of this simple psalm, was driven home in the depths of my heart.

it was then i finally understood how God desires to hold us close to him, when we let Him.  sometimes we can feel so small, insignificant.  but if you just give up that control and rest in His arms... you'll find yourself drawn so closely to his chest, that not one part of you will be unsean. this must be what the psalmist means when he says... my frame was not hidden from you when i was made.*

so wherever you are... nestled up in your cozy house, feeling alone and empty, or taking a break from the calamity of life...

take a breathe, sit back and relax...

for He never sleeps nor slumbers**

and He's watching over you... 

you...

the apple of His eye. 

*Psalm 139:15
**Psalm 121:3–4

running (on empty)

so... it's been approximately 14 months since my last run.  it was a tearful day when i hung up my mizuno's and sobbed to my husband (who kept nodding and smiling because i was an emotional pregnant woman) that I JUST COULDN'T DO IT ANYMORE!  

not because i didn't want to... but because i simply couldn't.

i know some of you girls who somehow kept running through your pregnancies.  you amaze me.  if i had golden crowns and scepters, i'd give you one of each.  because this girl could absolutely not trot one mile further.  

it was quite a strange revelation for me.  i mean, i'd been running for 5 years of my life.  i'd completed three 1/2 marathons, a handful of 10K's and countless 5K's in very respectable form... but the minute Leif sprang into existence, my body sold me out.  it decided HE was more important... i guess it was right.  it only took me the entire first trimester to figure out it wasn't about ME anymore. 

sometimes i don't catch on too quickly. 

i think my last run was 4 miles... i can't remember.  i just remember that it was a sunday and i was so dog tired from trying to continue my running regiment that i slept the afternoon away and woke up with the sorest thighs i'd ever had in my life.  

while this might be normal for someone who doesn't run, to someone who ran these distances weekly for 5 years, it seemed a little strange.  i decided i could no longer go at that pace anymore. 

 hence... the quitting. 

well... maybe a nicer way to say it was... the pausing.  

so...

i resorted to lifting weights and dreaming about running.  during my pregnancy i'd have these amazing dreams about running.  i'd wake up refreshed and excited... and then i'd wistfully remember that it would probably be quite awhile before running was like that for me again.  

then leif was born and i had two handsome guys in my life.  but time flew out the window and i'd find myself thinking... will i ever get to go back?  it was a very scary thought because running has been my outlet for years.  i had started running in 2006 to get in shape for my trip to Israel and challenge myself physically... but then it became more than that.  i completed my first half marathon in 2008 with my dad, mom and handsome man cheering wildly for me at the finish line.  

little did i know that 9 months later my dad would be diagnosed with cancer and my life would seemingly spin into uncertainty.  during this time running kept me grounded.  it was my place to talk to (and scream at) God.  i remember in June, when we found out that my dad's cancer had metastasized, i went out for a run right before a rainstorm.  i was so upset i could hardly see straight.  i started jogging down my typical path and got about 300 feet away from the trailhead when the rain and thunder started.   i was so pissed off... not so much about the storm but about the fact that my dad was going to die.  then i started crying.  

and it wasn't a pretty cry... it was definitely an ugly cry.  

but i didn't care.  i threw my fists up and God and screamed... i was angry.  i wanted to know WHY.  WHY was i going to lose my dad?  i sobbed "why" over and over and turned around.  i sprinted home with feet that could have broken through concrete.  when i got back to the trailhead i just continued screaming why and sobbing.  i think it was an adult temper tantrum in the presence of God.  

it was OK, though... God totally understood.

and when i got home... i had cried it all out and had physically exhausted myself.  the shortest run of my life had become a pivotal moment to vent to God face to face... who had it all under control.  there was the real, vulnerable me... standing in front of God like a frightened child.  and He was there... His heart breaking right alongside of me.... filling me up with peace and mercy.

after my dad passed away, running became a place to pray for strength and to focus myself on the joys and beauty of life and the blessings i had.  it became a routine i needed to help me move forward... out of the pain and heartache. 

seasons passed and i began to heal... and though i'll never be the same... i hope i can say that i've become a better person because of what i went through.  i know it was only because of grace and mercy that i pressed forward... and God used running as a way to stitch me back together...

step by step.

so you see what it's important to me... right?
you see why i was devastated when i realized that i couldn't do it?

this month leif coltrane turned 7 months old!  SEVEN MONTHS!!!  i can't even believe how fast he's grown.  he's amazing... so smiley and giggly.  he raises one eyebrow at me just like his dad and has such a calm soul.  i love that kid...  just love him.

it also just so happens to be my favorite time of year to run.  i love the smell of fall leaves and the crisp autumn air.  i love afternoon highs in the 60's.  since i'm still breastfeeding leif there was just no way i could run before work like i used to.  i already get up at 5 to feed leif and get to work by 7:15 (OK, OK... i'm always 5 minutes late... 7:20).  running would mean a 4 AM wake up call... and i'm already tired as it is.  

but cool afternoons are great for me.  i can come home, feed leif and then leave for a run.  so about a month ago when the weather was just right (overcast, the air heavy with the smell of leaves) i decided

it.

was.

time.

since i had basically done nothing but work, laundry and take care of a baby for the past 6 months, i started from scratch, the way i first began running 6 years ago.  i have a book with a run/walk plan.  it's all based on intervals.  the first run is: run 1 min., walk 2 min., 12 times.  essentially, you increase the running time and decrease the walking intervals over a 12 week period until you are running a solid 60 minutes.  my running partner, B, and i always run intervals.  it's just that we'd do a 5 or 10 minute interval, walk 1 minute and do it again.  so that's my goal.  

the first week of runs were brilliant.  i came home happy, crunching leaves all the way.  i'd come trotting up to my house, rays of sunshine oozing out of my pores.  i'd kiss kjaer and leif and exclaim, "it's like i'm super-mom!!!" and hop in the shower feeling like a champ.  

the next week my running time increased to 2 minutes which added another mile and a half onto my journey.  this first big increase happened to take place on a very warm (80 degree) afternoon.  about halfway through i was sucking air and thinking WHY the HELL do i like this?

it was a dark, dark moment for me.  

i think my dog was thinking the same thing too.  by the end of it he was trotting very slowly behind me and i was practically pulling him home.  

it was a tad bit disheartening.  

the following week we were struck down with the stomach flu... and now we have some nasty virus.  so... needless to say, although i've been getting out the door... it isn't at the rate i imagined it would be.  i get a run in here or there, but increasing my intervals seems pointless because every time i get a week under my belt, we get knocked down with some illness and i can't run for the next week.

the problem is... i want to be in killer shape NOW.  i don't want to do all of the hard work it takes to get there.  i just want to snap my fingers, lose my last 15 pounds and be a runner again.  i want to lace up my shoes, start my garmin and run off into an oblivion without wondering how many more seconds until i can walk again?  

but that isn't how it works, is it?  it's the showing up every day, the sweat, the tears that define us... and not just in running... in life.  if we had our way and life came so simply... we'd all be walking around with heads as big as the moon and hearts the size of peas.  life was designed to mold and shape us through patience, perseverance and yes... humility.   (and trust me, chubby mommy thighs rubbing together and sucking air after running for 90 seconds is currently keeping me humble).   these are the things that make or break us... and i want it to make me so that each day i'm more refined and gracious than the last.

so... even though my tank seems as if it's out of gas.  even though i run two minutes (and stare at my watch for the last minute of every 2 minute interval whilst i wheeze away)... i'm going to keep on trucking.  in doing so i hope to find a part of my old self and pieces of myself i've never known before... all the while,  staying grateful, focused and grounded.  

well... that's my prayer, at least.

mushy brains...

my friend melissa warned me back in the day, that once you become a mother your brain turns to mush.  i tried not to fret about it too much.  i mean... melissa seemed like she was still my gorgeous and intelligent friend... and she's a mamma of three beautiful little girls.

she's joking, i'd think, right?

then i became pregnant.

whoa nelly!

i'd be in my classroom trying to plan out the next week of math lessons with melissa.  i'd be looking everywhere for my pencil...  she'd hand me one.  then i would totter around looking for my planning book... which would be sitting right in front of my face. after successfully finding that i'd be looking for that one paper... you know... that one?  she'd just knowingly look at me and say, "see?  MUSH!"

and then leif was born and my condition worsened.

i remember one time, when leif was probably 4 or 5 weeks old, he and i brought kjaer some lunch at work.  kjaer, for those of you who don't know, is also a teacher.  but he works with the big, scary kids that tower over me... middle and high schoolers.  i prefer to stick with the ones i'm taller than.  anyways, as we walked in with leif students and colleagues alike began gathering around and talking all at once.  i found myself saying "yes" a lot... pretty soon it was the only word i could say... i was like a broken record player.

them: are you doing ok?

me: yes

them: is he a boy?

me: yes

it went on and on like this.  

suddenly, i heard myself answer yes without hesitation to a rhetorical question and walked away feeling like the most arrogant person.

them:  isn't he's so perfect?

me:  (do i even have to tell you?)  yes

g.r.o.a.n.

i don't know what happened to me.  i mean... i have a Master's degree for Pete's sake!  i was one of the Colorado Council of Teachers of Mathematics Teacher's of the Year!  i swear... this woman you see before you, nodding with glazed over eyes, she's actually not too stupid.

but you would never know.

the other day, whilst standing in the shower,  i finally figured out what is happening to me.

one of those truths about having a baby is that while you are pregnant you get the most long, luxurious hair and nails of your lifetime.  it's probably God's way of making something on your body benefit and look halfway decent.  Lord knows the rest of you doesn't exactly feel gorgeous.  but the untold truth is that after you are pregnant your hair starts falling out by the handful.  i thought i knew what this meant when my girlfriends would complain about it... but i was sorely mistaken.

THE HANDFUL!  

so as i was pulling oodles of hair out of my scalp, i decided that my brains are falling out along with my hair... at approximately the same rate.    they must be somehow attached to the roots or something.

by the looks of the hairballs in the trash can... i'm screwed.

i used to be able to multi-task like a champ.  i'd be on the phone with my mom, transferring money in our bank account, paying bills and cooking dinner.  i'm talking a serious pro at multi-tasking.  now when my mom talks to me on the phone i can barely look at something and talk at the same time.  i find myself saying, "i'm sorry, can you repeat that?"  and don't even bother talking to me if leif is fussy.  you might as well be talking to a wall because i won't hear a word.  all i'll be thinking about is milk, milk, milk, boobs, boobs, boobs.

this past week i was rushing about in my newest routine of trying to get leif and i out the door.  i don't think i've made it to work on time once in these past three weeks.  and it certainly doesn't matter what time i get up.  if leif wakes me up at 4:30 to eat or 5:00 i'm still anywhere from 5-15 minutes late (although i DO think it's a crime that i have to be at work by 7:15!)  so the other day i was in the throws of getting us all packed up.  i was packing my pumping bag (the bane of my existence right now... don't EVEN get me started), my lunch, leif's diaper bag, my purse, my school bag.  i was trying to remember my car keys, my phone, my coffee, a blanket for leif all while trying to avoid getting spit up on since i have attempted to look somewhat put-together at work (IT'S A SHAM!)  i start loading up the car, make sure trooper is getting his final potty break while stealing some snuggles with leif, strap him in, set the alarm, lock up the house and jump in the car.  as i start driving off to martha's i think, hmmm... what a nice cool morning... think i'll turn on the heated seats.  as i do, i think, why is my butt lopsided?  i reach under my derriere... and there it was... the sign of true motherhood... 

...a bib was stuck to my ass.  

i'm sorry, i just can't put it nicely... there's no other way to say it.  

my.

a.s.s.

when i told melissa, she just nodded like i was preaching to the choir.  she said, "i'm so glad it's not just me anymore and somebody else gets it!  welcome to the club, mama!"

but i swear i should be the regional director of this mushy brain club.  i have been saving tons of these stories of my absent mindedness for you -mentally, of course- and i've forgotten them!  the only reason i remember the bib ordeal is because it JUST happened!

sometimes i have moments where i can find my old, intelligent self.  for instance, right now i'm blogging, looking at facebook and importing music onto my computer.  but it's short lived and i know it.  leif and kjaer are asleep so these are the only moments of the day where i'm not distracted by the two loves of my life.  because once they wake up, honey, it's all over for me.  they don't do anything, per se.  it's just that once they're up, i go into full time mushy brain mode and you won't see any resemblance of this semi-put together girl that you're talking with now.  it's not until kjaer and i put leif to bed and i snuggle up next to my man on the couch when i can finally think straight again... and by then it's time for me to go to bed (or pack up for the next day).

so i give up.

i give in.

mushy brains are here to stay... at least until my hair grows back in.

and you all are just going to have to love me anyways.

PS- including this too because all of this mushy brain stuff doesn't really bug me when i see this face!

daycare diaries...

i have officially been back to work for two days.  

dropping our babe off at daycare... the whole sha-bang.

currently, leif is taking his little evening nap before his bedtime feeding. 

kjaer and i usually spend this time running around, packing leif's bag for tomorrow, our lunches, washing my pump crap, doing dishes, doing a load of diapers... trying not to pass out from sheer exhaustion.  (we really don't know how all of YOU people have done this for years!)

then he eats around 7ish.

he goes down for another couple of hours while we wash our faces, brush our teeth and do the above mentioned things that didn't get done in our first go... which is just about everything. 

then he eats one last time.

and we go to bed.  or shall i say, we d.r.a.g. ourselves into bed.

well, actually, up until a couple of nights ago... THEN i'd go pump and wash all of that crap AGAIN.  but i crawled into bed at 11 o'clock the other night and awoke my husband to ask, "why was i supposed to pump after his last feeding again?" he couldn't remember and neither could i.  so i promptly gave THAT up... my apologies to our lactation consultant.  staying up to 11 pumping and getting up at 4:30 is going to make an unhappy professional/mamma.  

i couldn't keep going at that pace.

besides, i took a poll of my mama hero's and they agreed that this was ridiculous.  so i'm looking forward to a 10 o'clock bedtime in the near future.  (by the way, i'm thinking my lactation consultant was just telling me how to build a supply before i went back to work but i morphed it somehow into an extra pumping session... blame it on my hormones or my perfect mommy-itis... whatevs).

right now i should be doing that big list of things (which i'm sure will get less time consuming and easier over time... but currently seems to eat up any free time we have) but i wanted to update all of you on the daycare situation. 

we had found a wonderful place for leif back in may.  it was one of those places where we walked in and i immediately became attached to the person i was meeting.. martha.  i do this sometimes... get this hippy-ish, magical connection to someone.  i can't really explain it except that i think we're cut from the same cloth.  some of you became my friends this way... you walked into the room and i just knew we were friends for life.  you were stuck with me.  i remember meeting my friend jill at some bible study thing and my sister later informing me that jill told her we were going to be BFF's... so my friends do this too.   it's God's little way of reminding me He has a plan.  i think most times, when i do this, kjaer rolls his eyes and thinks oh brother, there she goes again!  but whatever, nearly every time i've been right!

so, we met martha.  

we loved her right away... well i did.  kjaer thought she'd be great for leif... but his wife LOVED her.  

we were happy that he'd be well taken care of at an affordable rate less than a mile from my school and settled in to enjoy our summer... never giving it a second thought.  we should've been suspicious though... it was all TOO perfect.  life just doesn't happen that way.   two weeks before school started, martha contacted me and told me she was going to have to close her doors to her daycare do to some unforeseen financial things.  she was heartbroken... i was heartbroken.  i prayed about it... well, more like sulked and whined to God about it... but that's considered prayer, right?

i even prayed with leif during his nighttime prayers because God HAS to answer a baby's prayers... right?

martha said she'd like to start nannying and offered us her services for a steal considering that it'll be leif and one other child.  

truly.  

a.

steal.

so, as of right now we are shopping for another family to share martha with us.  i'll keep you all posted.  i so want it to work out, however i'm really trying to see which doors open or close and keep looking up.  

BUT... last week, before we went back to work... we did a couple of practice days at daycare... more for mommy and daddy than leif.  

wednesday was his first half day.  after he got up to eat, i put him back to bed,  showered, got beautiful and woke him up to take him to daycare.  kjaer surprised me by jumping out of bed to accompany us.  he wanted to come too.  we left him there around 8 and promised to be back by 12.  

the car ride home was weird.  

quiet.  

even though leif is mostly quiet anyways.  

maybe empty is a better word.

empty.

we got in the house and it didn't feel right.  the jungle drums started beating... that's what anne lamott calls them.  it's that part of you that yearns to get back to your little one.  the drums start quietly, but are pounding before you know it.  you think you just might die if you can't get back to him in time.  

by noon i practically pushed kjaer out the door, started his car for him and strapped him in so that he would go get leif.

when he got back i snatched leif from him... probably didn't put him down for quite awhile.

his first full day was much the same.  kjaer took me on a date to help keep me distracted.  but the jungle drums were driving me MAD!  i wanted our kiddo, in my arms, STAT!!! 

i survived...

barely...

but i did.

this week was the real deal.  i had to go to work one day earlier than kjaer, so kjaer took leif to martha's.  i called him to see how everything went.  kjaer kind of sighed, "ok."  i was thinking... what happened?    did he fuss?  did he want his daddy and mommy?  did he throw himself from her (very capable) arms and wriggle himself out the front door and into your car?  

DO I NEED TO QUIT MY JOB IMMEDIATELY AND STAY HOME WITH HIM?!?!?

then kjaer said, "no... i really wanted to keep him home with me."

i could've slapped myself.  instead of asking about leif, i should have asked kjaer how HE was doing.  clearly, leif has been fine with this whole ordeal... it's the two of us who are struggling with leaving him.  and sometimes i'm a lame-wad of a wife and forget that my husband feels these things too.  

how could i have forgotten about how kjaer was feeling?

stupid

stupid 

stupid

guess what?  daddies have jungle drums too... they just don't whine and sulk about them.  (probably because they feel like if they give into their feelings then their wives, who are already acting like puppies with hurt feelings, will absolutely fall to pieces and the whole world will go mad).  

so the last two days, when my jungle drums start throbbing (sometimes in the back of my throat... that's probably what makes a mamma feel like crying) i think of me AND kjaer.  when the clock strikes 3:15 i start packing up (UNHEARD of in my past years of teaching), trot out to my car and get him from martha's...  whom i still love by the way... especially since she also thinks leif is a genius!  i rush him home... feed him... and then kjaer and i love on him until he can stand it no longer and falls asleep.  

the upside to all of this, besides leif doing brilliantly well in his new daytime environment, is i LOVE how much he misses us.  he just snuggles right up and soaks us up like a little sponge.  absence really does make the heart grow fonder... even with babies!  

so for now we're hanging tight, trusting leif to be as amazing as he is and thrive, and learning to dance to the beat of our new little jungle drum.

relishing...

this morning i woke up, and that brilliant little kid of ours had grown older over night. 

i don't know how this happened. 

people say, "they grow up fast."  man, they weren't kidding.  for the past three months i've been anxiously awaiting certain milestones... holding his head up during tummy time, rolling over, holding toys, sleeping in his crib (instead of his bassinet), sitting up.  i'm excited about it all and i find myself trying to get him there a little faster... while kjaer is constantly trying to get me to slow down and enjoy the whole process.

but this morning leif showed me that he could do it on his own...

b.r.i.l.l.i.a.n.t.

instead of him waking me with his little snorts and whines, i heard him happily cooing away in his bassinet at the foot of our bed.  i went over and peaked at him and he gave me an absurdly beautiful and cheerful smile, as if to say, oh there you are!  i was waiting for you!

then, i set him in his high chair with some toys and started my morning routine... feeding the dog, making breakfast.  at first i was talking cheerfully to him about everything i was doing.  he listened intently.  but then he became so engrossed in holding and looking at his lovie (and sticking it in his mouth), i started to feel like i was being ignored so maybe i should get a couple more things done.  i checked email, facebook, read a couple of news articles... it was beautiful.  he was sitting right next to me happily talking to his toys.  he'd catch me watching him and he'd say with his content little smile... i'm cool mom.  you just do what you gotta do!

then we continued with our little routine.  i changed his diaper while he kick, kick, kicked.  i think we may have a future world cup player on our hands.  then i thought, "well, maybe we should give tummy time a shot."

he hates tummy time.

hates.

it.

usually we set him on his belly and he'll put up with it for less than 45 seconds.  and that's when his protesting will begin.  we usually try to make him stay there until we can tell he's about to lose it... so like... for a minute or two.  this always makes me feel guilty.  you are supposed to have your kid doing tummy time for like, 15 minutes a day... but our kid will have a nuclear meltdown after 2 minutes.  so  i always feel like i'm damaging my poor child because we skip tummy time altogether OR get in maybe 4 minutes a day (which means, if you are following my mathematical equation... we make 3 attempts a day to get in 4 measly minutes).  his doctor told me not to fret about tummy time...  that leif is a strong kiddo who's developing just fine and probably doesn't need it.  but my perfect mommy-itis tells me that if i did get tummy time in, he'd be getting everything he needs and more!

so back to today... i put him on his little playmat with a tiny bolster under his armpits and waited for the meltdown. 

when i opened my eyes, which i had clenched shut, i saw my little boy happily staring at his rattle, perched like a high centered rolly polly.  he cooed happily and chattered to himself while i rinsed his dirty diaper (ps - cloth diapers are rockin'). 

but i was still in disbelief that he would actually be happy over there so i did my job fast and peaked around the corner the whole time in case armageddon would commence. 

nothing.

and he looked so damn cute i kept thinking, i should take a picture, i should take a picture.   but i didn't... so maybe next time.

my friends, he spent 5 minutes all in one sitting getting his tummy time in. 

i'm telling you, he's a freakin' genious!  if we do this a couple more times today, BAM you have 15 minutes. 

no bigs.

then he started a little fussing... i mean, he is a baby after all... and i knew it was naptime.  after all, he's clearly had a big morning.

usually kjaer and i have to work tirelessly to get him to nap.  he's an awesome sleeper at night, but during the day we fight to make this kid sleep.  he'll plead with his red, puffy eyes i don't wanna nap!! and fight it with all of his might.  sometimes, on rare occasions we can get him to sleep in his bassinet or crib... but usually we have to resort to his swing or bouncy vibrating chair because he will have nothing to do with anything that resembles a bed during the daytime... and even then it can take up to an hour for him to be lulled into dreamland.  OR he'll fall asleep and wake up 20 minutes later pissed off that we tricked him.

but today i thought i'd press my luck.  i walked him back to his bassinet, swaddled him and laid him down.  he smiled tiredly, sighed, and went to sleep. 

he's been sleeping ever since. 

praises be.

i ran to get my laptop and write it all down for you.  i found myself awestruck and amazed.  i was so excited to see that it IS possible to have a day where things go the way you think they should go.  i mean... i'm elated that i won't need kjaer to fashion a giant vibrating chair for my child once he outgrows this one so that he can take naps in one as a five year old.  it's becoming clear to me that he might actually sleep in a BED one day.  i mean... the kid is a cute albert einstein!

and then, after the wave of excitement passed, i realized something else. 

he's growing up. 

it is happening so fast.

and i found my heart wanting to tap the brakes a little for our little baby.  his future is passing before my eyes!  pretty soon there will be pre-school, kindergarten, middle school dances, high school and then we'll be moving him into a dorm and i'll be sobbing in the passenger seat all of the way home while kjaer tries to comfort me. 

sigh.

i love being a mom... but my prayer for myself is that instead of pushing this kid to grow up faster and reach his next milestone... that i take my time to enjoy each moment of my son's life.  he'll do all of that developmental stuff on his own, and my job will be to stand next to him awestruck and cheering him on proudly.

p.s. - he just woke up and is chattering away to himself... he slept a whole 45 minutes and now he's calling to me that he's done.  i'm letting him lay there for a few more minutes just to listen to his happy talking and enjoy it.  if he's ganna grow up fast, then i'm going to relish every minute.

perfect mommy-itis...

i am your typical firstborn child through and through. 

i am an overachiever to the max.  i exhibit this behavior in just about everything in my life.

even looking back early into my childhood i can see these patterns emerge.  i went to a private elementary school where we received "S's" for satisfactory (instead of A's).  i can remember the pang an S- brought me as it glared at me from that blue report card. and it hurt... it hurt REAL bad. i mean... i thought i was made of S+ material only.

well... i made sure THAT never happened again.

i'm sure this wasn't the first of many brushes with imperfection... although i know you find that hard to believe. 

i went to a summer camp at our church... probably around 2nd or 3rd grade.  instead of earning A's we worked hard on earning a "small F" or a "big F", which we would get at an awards ceremony at the end of the two week camp.  (looking back, the adults probably thought it was hilarious we were busting our tails to earn F's)  it was a patch that looked like it belonged on a letter jacket... and i wanted that big F so bad i could taste it.  there are some of us who just know that we'll never get a varsity jacket and "letter" in something later in life... so i figured this was my one shot at being cool.  you earned your f by completing tasks that had been leveled out by degree of difficulty... most of them involving athleticism... which, i'm sorry to say, was and is not my forte.  i worked SO hard to earn that big F.  i memorized all of my bible verses, learned as many different sports as i could.  it all came down to landing a front flip on the big trampoline to complete the advanced skills and clench the big F. but alas, i could not stick that darn front flip and missed my big F by one stupid point. 

i cried.

OHHHH did i cry!

in fact, the director almost gave me a big F because she felt so sorry for me.

but my mom told her "no"

she wanted me to earn it fair and square like all of the other kids.

looking back, i can't believe i cried because i didn't get an F... funny coming from a girl who cried over an S-!

 (also... props to my mom for letting me learn a life lesson.  i hope i'm that wise with leif.)

as an adult i've continued this strange pattern of perfect dysfunction.  when i started running i followed a regimented plan.  if i skipped a day i'd feel like a failure.  no joke.  i probably was so successful at losing weight years ago because i am ridiculous about what i control.  i like to have a clean house with everything put away.  and by everything i mean the receipt my husband JUST brought home from the gas station.  i give him no mercy on his paperwork and putting away skills. in fact, i was just all over him about some empty boxes he set in the living room because they bugged me.  even my classroom has to be just-so... my teammates lovingly tease me and try to get me to stop staying late in my quest for perfectionism.

and now i'm a mommy... which means a lot of my control and my need to be perfect are intensifying. 

and... to make it worse... i'm not in control of most anything anymore... as those of you seasoned mothers might remember when you reflect on your earliest days as a madre.

first of all, as i type, my son is finally sleeping... rocking away in his swing.  instead of doing the laundry list of stuff i would normally want to get done, i'm sitting in my living room writing my blog.  there are dog toys and lint spread out all over the floor from trooper, who's taking comfort in his toys because his parents are currently pre-occupied.  there are dishes on the coffee table (a cardinal sin in THIS house), my make-up bag from my quick application this morning is under said table and pillows everywhere with piles of miscellaneous objects around...  (stupid empty husband boxes).

so.

not.

my.

style.

it's secretly driving me crazy...

but i have other fish to fry!

because what is eating away at me is this unrealistic idea that i think i need to be a perfect mom.

leif is 3 months old now.  i can hardly believe how much he has changed in such a short amount of time... and i'm so thankful that as time passes, i seem to be getting the hang of bein' a mama a little more.  i mean, i couldn't even get a dishwasher unloaded during the day a couple of months ago.  now i can unload the dishwasher, take a shower, get my make-up on AND make the bed... on a good day.   i might even venture out for an errand or two if i'm feeling really sassy.  success is measured in tiny increments around here.

but several weeks ago, when leif was about 6 weeks old, i had one of those days that sets you back.  and i don't mean two steps forward, two steps back... like paula abdul.  i mean two steps forward, five steps back.

i think it's because that particular morning leif woke me up at 3:45 to feed.  when i crawled back into bed at 4:30, i just laid there, wide awake.  i could not get back to sleep.  i kept thinking about my dr. appointment, how i wish i could go for a run (i needed to go get some running clothes that i could actually fit into... whatever).  OK... my point being that i never fell back asleep.

my appointment was good, i was healing up from surgery great... except that i cried.  weight gain is hard... and starting over sucks.  i wanted to be perfect in this aspect too, but i'm not.  i mean... didn't all of you mommies out there fit into your size 6 jeans 6 weeks after giving birth?  (if you did... don't EVEN tell me or i'll throw up!)

this is all i'm sayin' about weight for now... but as i start to become my more recognizable, less puffy self, i'm sure i'll post more about it.

i came home exhausted and ready to see my little one.  i had left him in the very capable hands of his daddy.  (it was also my first time away from leif without feeding him... which was harder than i thought it would be for me).   kjaer had some things he needed to get done that day, so after we had lunch together, he took off and i was left alone to my laundry list and leif.  i had decided that the laundry list could wait.  i was so tired and just wanted to take a nap with my little man.

p.s. - this is one of my most favorite things about being a mommy.  if you have yet to experience mommy-hood... just wait.  there is nothing better than napping with your little babe on your chest. i loved that sacred time...  and he doesn't do it very often anymore.  boy, they grow so fast.  anyways...  as i set my little guy against my heart, i was mentally patting myself on the back for letting go of other stuff so that i could take care of myself.

but leif had other plans.

even though i had JUST fed him, he started crying because he wanted to eat again.  he was fussy afterwards.  then, like an idiot, i took a phone call from the hospital to answer survey questions.   actually, i looked at my phone to see who was calling and accidentally hit the answer button... damn it.  it was a very stressful 10 minutes... all the while leif was wailing in the background, inconsolable.

clearly, a nap for mommy wasn't in the cards.

so when my girlfriend, lindee called and asked if i wanted to go for a walk... i said "what the heck? a walk might make me feel better"... at least that's what i thought.  but, by the time she got here i was frazzled. i should have just taken a rain check, because i was in a sorry state.  i started right in with my complaining about leif.  then i grabbed trooper's leash because... well, he's been neglected so i thought he should walk with us and get out a little pent up energy.  i attempted, like a fool, to walk my dog with leif's stroller solo.  lindee had her own stroller to push and i figured that since trooper is 11 years old... he'd be a champ because he's so mature... right?

ummmm.... no.

we'd be carrying on our conversation (actually, more like my one-sided sob story) and trooper would yank me and the stroller over to the nearest squirrel, dog behind a fence, suspicious leaf... you know... whatever he deemed worthy of barking at.  this only heightened my frustration.  not only was i an imperfect mother, but i couldn't control my own dog on a walk.  poor lindee.  you remember when you were a kid playing nintendo and you had the crappiest game ever?  you'd hit that reset button... right?  and don't say no, because we ALL hit the reset button in the 80's.  well, i called lindee a few weeks later to ask if i could hit the reset button... because on that day, i was a walking disaster.

after lindee left, i reflected on my bad behavior and writhed in my own embarrassment over my attitude during our walk. kjaer helped me dig to the nitty gritty of what was bugging me.

first of all... it had been a challenging day.

a few hours of sleep + post partem hormonal emotions = train wreck of a woman. 

i could have handled it on a good day with some yawns and mild complaining.  but that wasn't how my day went.  and as i watched myself crumble under the challenges, i lost faith in myself as a mother.

i mean... how can i be a good mom if i can't even walk my dog in a straight line without losing my patience?  somebody tell me please?

and that's when i was reminded, kindly, by my husband that nobody is perfect and i seem to think that i should be.  when i'm not, i feel out of control.  he stated, rather matter of factly, that he thinks we're doing an awesome job of being parents.  but we are going to have days where we complain about our kids, even though we love them to pieces.   

*gasp*  complain about our kids?  well i NEVER!

yes you have young mommy... i think we all do.  whether it's inside of our heads or out loud to a caring friend.

what i'm learning is, it's OK to feel frustrated with your child, your dog, yourself.  heck... you don't think the Lord himself got frustrated with the Israelites back in the days of Moses?  even GOD gets frustrated. i know there were several times in my life where God wanted to slap me up side the head.  i can just imagine Him going for a walk with Jesus and the Holy Spirit.   I can almost hear Him say to them, "What was up with Monica today?"  and Jesus would reply, "I know... right?" while the Holy Spirit nods heartily in agreement.

where did i catch this perfect mommy-itis?  i have no clue.  i think it's a combination of my perfectionism and my perception of other mamma's that i watch so carefully.  after all, i'm one of the last of my girlfriends to become a mama.  i've been watching my lovely ladies that i love so dearly do this for years.  i think there were the first early few before i was even thinking of kids (let alone marriage)... lynette, cassie, carrie and then those in the years after i became a wife and knew that a family wouldn't be far behind... heather, jill, melissa and lindee.  to all of these wonderful girls (and many more of my girlfriends whom have gone unnamed) i have watched you so closely.  you gaze at your children so sweetly.  you smile so big when you talk about them.  sometimes it was easy for a girl like me to fantasize about the joys of motherhood.

you girls just made it look so easy.

and, as i have found out over the past few months, it most definitely isn't.

crazy amazing... yes.  but lots of work.

and here's the crux...  and it's sort of beautiful in a strange way.  those of you that came to see me after i had my own little one... you girls who i've made such "perfect" moms in my brain...  when i let out my dirty little secrets of the first few weeks of motherhood... like some of the fears, concerns or messed up thoughts and feelings i was having... each and every one of you nodded and said amen sister.  it was like i had joined the club and learned the unspoken secret of being a mother.  because you all gathered around me with wide open arms and whispered "you are not alone" into my ears when i was afraid i was the only mother on earth who felt this way.

and then a fellow mama lent me a book by one of my favorite authors that i didn't even KNOW existed... Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott.  i spent countless hours feeding leif with one hand and holding that book in the other as she recounted her first year with her little one.  i connected with her highs and lows.  she writes one night, "it has been a terrible day.  i'm afraid i'm going to have to let him go.  he's an awful baby.  i hate him.  he's scum."  and then a few pages later, "and also - this is almost too much to handle-when i hold him now, he puts his arm around my neck.  it's very casual.  he just kind of slings his arm around me, like he's Sam Shepard or something.  it makes me woozy."  

word anne.  word. 

the truth is, the good days far outnumber the ones where i thought i sucked.  the beginning was tough.  when i put on my "mommy" hat those first few weeks, i couldn't see out from under it.  it was too big, fell down around my ears and i couldn't hear people (like my husband, friends and family) cheering me on.  it seemed all i could do was listen to thoughtless comments said in passing that probably weren't said to mean any harm and follow my "perfect mommy checklist."  those days where i couldn't check off the boxes (and there were a LOT of those days in the beginning) i felt like a failure.  

but now i've been wearing my hat for a few months... and it mostly stays on top of my head... though there are still a few days where the enormity of it makes it fall over my eyes and ears.  but those days are becoming less and less... and i'm so crazy about our son i can hardly see straight.  i watch his little hands work together like a worried, little, old man as he contemplates world peace... and i'm amazed that he came from me.  such a miracle.  some of the happiest moments in my life have have happened in the last three months when i change his diaper.  he smiles and kick, kick, kicks his legs.  then, he talks to me... "hey mom!  i lOVE this!  i LOVE you!  look at these strange things you call hands!  look how fast my legs can move!  is that DAD?!?  hey dad!  look what i'm doing!  i LOVE this!  i LOVE you!"  kick, kick, kick.  

w.o.o.z.y.

i see his gummy grin and know to my core that our kid loves us.  we're doing a good job.  if i can just bring myself to throw that mommy checklist away every day when i crawl out of bed... i will be inoculated against that dangerous strand of perfect mommy-itis.  

and then i can enjoy our little miracle as i take 

one. 

day. 

at.

 a.

 time.

father-daughter dance...

it's that time of year again... summer is full of birthdays, weddings, BBQ's and happiness.  but for my family there is a day that feels a little more like it belongs in the middle of a bitter cold winter. 

july 5th.  the day we lost my dad.

i've prayed, since that day, that i would be graceful after having my heart blown apart.  i've watched others in my life who've experienced their own turmoil.  it has either left them angry and disillusioned or they've walked away as if they had been refined by the fire into something more beautiful.  i wanted the latter for myself... i figured if i could do my best to remain reflective that i could choose to be graceful.

besides, being angry doesn't work very well for me.  i'm not a very good angry person.

so as the anniversary rolls around again this year, three years later, i find myself suddenly flooded with memories of him.  and i have to choose to be as graceful as i can since i've found it best to go ahead and let myself remember them... because for me, feeling is better than stuffing my emotions down and not dealing with them. 

my dad was a truck driver and on the road most of my life.  he'd come home on weekends but often we'd go two or three weeks without seeing him.  however, not one day went by without me knowing how much my dad missed me and loved me.  he called every night just to hear our voices.  as the years went by and we got older, he started finding more local jobs.  by the time i was in college he was home every weekend. no matter what his job situation was... whether over the road for weeks at a time, or his brief two year stint as a stay at home dad doing carpentry work on the side... he loved his family with great passion and conviction.

so as you can imagine, when my dad was home, we soaked it up.  my family was never much for doing activities out and about together.  our time was mostly spent at home in each others company.  i'm still very much that way.  i'd prefer to have friends over for dinner and a great conversation rather than "go out".  we'd spend time helping my dad wash his truck, watch movies together and play in the backyard... which was like his own little oasis.  my dad had a knack for creating spaces all over our house... but i say this tongue in cheek because some of his spaces are either a little strange or a little unsafe.  one time i came home from college and my house was covered with wood... like the kind you build a 6 foot fence with.  while i was busy dying of embarrassment, my dad claimed that he had made our home look like a cabin and that nobody else had a house like ours. he was quite proud of this feat.

well... i guess he was right... nobody did.

the first time i brought kjaer to my parents house i was just "dropping by" because we were out and about.  i had gotten used to the cabin thing so i was no longer embarrassed by it.  at least i could shrug it off with a giggle.  but we pulled up and my wooden house had been stained orange.  i swear it looked like an enormous dorito.  my dad had decided it was time to re-do the stain and apparently it was a little orange-er than he expected... so he just went with it.

i wanted to crawl under my dashboard and die.  

"here, handsome guy that i have a terribly huge crush on... here is my parents bright orange house."

my dad did many of these "renovations" to our house... putting up decks that weren't to code, building a pond in our backyard with a waterfall that ran on a sump pump, spackling our ceiling and then using a vacuum cleaner to blow sparkles up so that our ceiling would look "cool".  the list goes on.  and trust me, if it showed on the outside of our house... there was always that one neighbor who turned him in to the city of aurora for code violations.  we don't know exactly who it was that had it out for my dad... but we had some good guesses.  of course, now that he's gone you kind of appreciate these cooky little things he did... like the window in the fence so that the breeze would come through to the makeshift hammock he built.  everything had a purpose.  he was king of his little cooky castle... and we were his loving and loyal subjects

my dad had a sense of humor too.  in high school, i had three neighborhood friends who were more like sisters.  one sweet girl came to my house one day and my dad greeted her with a huge grin.  he then proceeded to open his mouth as wide as he could and let his dentures fall down from the top row of his teeth.  she screamed, "MR. TODACK!" and ran out the front door.  he just laughed and laughed.  of course... this became his new favorite game with her... chasing my friend around with his dentures falling out of his mouth.

ahhhh...  a day in the life of the todack's.  and some of you wonder why i'm so strange!

some dear friends of ours got married a couple of weekends ago and that got me thinking about weddings.  i LOVED our wedding.  it was so us.  but there was one thing that i had always dreamed we'd have that we didn't.

dancing. 

my dad LOVED to dance.  he was that kind of dad who had you stand on his feet while he waltzed around the dance floor.  i've spent many a family wedding on top of his dress shoes, giggling and spinning with my sweet daddoo.  even later, when i was in my 20's, my dad couldn't resist and he'd pull me out to the dance floor.  no matter how shy, awkward or bashful i was, he'd ignore it and dance with his daughter.  after kjaer and i got engaged... one of my first wedding plan decisions was to NOT have dancing.  i knew kjaer would agree with that anyway... he hates dancing.  plus, a 6'4" man might look a little funny dancing with a 5'3" woman.  but selfishly, the decision was for me.  the thought of having a dance floor without my dad to dance with me was just too painful to bare.

and by the way,  i don't regret that it was missing.  i think the dance floor would have emphasized the already gaping wound that my family bore so courageously on one of the happiest days of my life.  in fact... i remember my mom looking at kjaer's family laughing and smiling and having a great time at our wedding and asking me why we weren't acting like that.  my mom and i were posing for pictures at the time and she was probably feeling a little naked without her partner in crime.  i said, "because daddy's not here... he's the missing piece that makes our family whole." 

back to dancing...

i was reflecting on this "missing" piece from my wedding... when i suddenly remembered that i HAD my wedding father daughter dance with my dad.  it was just a year earlier than expected.  it was a couple of days after kjaer had asked me to marry him.  as most of you know, my father was thrilled.  he was in a hospice care center by now.  the medication they had him on made it impossible for him to talk.  you couldn't understand a word he'd be saying... which i'm sure was terribly frustrating for him when he had a clear mind.  i had come to bring my family some dinner.  we hated leaving him alone there... so we went in shifts.

anyways... kjaer and i came that day to bring qdoba.  we were all laughing and talking.  my dad was just sitting there quietly.  i don't remember how it came up... but i started singing a country song my dad had written and recorded in a Tennessee studio during his younger days.  (he would have been a great country singer).  i could tell by his eyebrows that he was quite impressed that i remembered each lyric... as i did my best to fake a southern drawl.  suddenly, my dad waved me over to him.  i walked over to him and he motioned to help him up.  i didn't quite know what was happening... with my dad you just obey. 

and then he wrapped his arms around me and started swaying and humming to me. 

we were dancing.

for the life of me, i wish i could remember what he was humming. 

all i know, is i got my father-daughter dance.  i kept my head over his shoulder so he wouldn't see my tears.  he and i knew, as did every other person in that room, that he wouldn't share that dance with me at my wedding.  so this was it... and we both rocked back and forth in a moment suspended in time.

the depths of my dads love for us still baffles me.  i'm sitting here looking at my sleeping son and thinking about how every day i love him more and more.  some days i feel like my heart is going to explode because it grows so rapidly.  then, i'm reminded that there was a time when i was my daddy's baby girl and his love for me was brand new.  imagine his love compounding upon itself, the way mine and kjaer's has been growing for leif,  for 30 years and you have how much my dad loved me.  he loved me so much that, in spite of the fact he was dying, he stood up and gave me my father daughter dance.  he knew i'd be missing him on that big day... so he brought the dance floor from our future wedding to the present as a gift from him to me.

anniversaries of deaths are a little like the anniversaries of celebrations too.  i remember that when kjaer and i were first dating i had little anniversaries in my head about every little thing.  in fact, the night we first kissed was the eve of christmas eve in 2004.  i'm sure i drove him crazy with this anniversary... but heck, i like to celebrate things. 

so i could sit here this july 5th and mope.  i could think about the pain of those last few weeks and the tragedies that happened to my dad and subsequently, me and my family.  those things are still so close to the surface that they can bring me to tears just thinking of them.  but i'd rather think of the other stuff.  the other 29 and a half years of happy memories that i have about my dad...  of orange wooden houses, crazy dentures, cool evenings by his pond, singing at the dinner table, 3 week trips with my family jam packed in his semi truck, and the way he danced with me... not just on that hot july day... but the way he danced with me throughout my life.

memories like that make it a little easier to try and be graceful.

the milk monster...

greetings from the land of mommy-dom... where there is always a diaper to be changed and an upcoming feeding looming ahead. yes, my milk-makers are in high demand by my little man.  that's my life for the near future, since i've chosen to go the breast feeding route.  and i'm OK with that.  but it hasn't been all rainbows and sunshine, like i pictured a mere few weeks ago... pre baby.

i lovingly titled this entry the milk monster... with the intent to share a cute little nursing tale about my little man... mr. leif coltrane, who i had mentally dubbed the milk monster at about 5 AM last Sunday morning.   but as i reflect back on the first month with him and especially the first two weeks, i'm wondering if the monster... or, shall i say, the two milk monsters... belong to me. 

now let's get one thing straight.  i've always been well endowed.  don't think that because i haven't brought it up with you in day to day conversation, that i don't know.  i'm well aware of my... shall i say... blessings.  although i have been known to curse them from time to time... but that is neither here nor there at this point.  because now i'm well endowed... as in super-sized with a coke.  when some of my closer girlfriends have been over while i've been nursing leif, i've watched their eyes bulge and have had to chuckle to myself. if they weren't attached to me, i might be apt to clutch my chest in horror and scream a hollywood scream as well. my lactation consultant told me that size has nothing to do with the amount of milk you can produce.  there are people with large "monsters" that have a hard time producing milk, and people with mini monsters that produce a ton of milk.  but my milk production matches the size of my tata's pound for pound.  basically, i could nourish the entire block if i so wished. 

so for the first few weeks i was a sopping, wet, milky mess. 

i'm not sharing this information to humiliate myself, but more so because one day (when i'm a rich and famous blogger) a young mother will be staring at this entry with towels shoved down her bra (so that... for pete's sake... she can stop soaking through the weenie breastpads she lined her bra with in hopes of not soaking yet another bra/shirt/couch cushion/mattress) ...and she'll think "i'm not alone!!!!"   

i thought there were things i didn't know about being pregnant.  nobody warned me about this.

i remember joking with my friends a few weeks before i was due that i wasn't sure about how soon i'd want visitors after our child was born because i didn't want them to show up with me topless and crying.  in fact, we decided that would be the perfect name for a band.  however, i had no idea how true that statement was. 

because...

 i was topless and crying... 

and my eyes weren't the only part of me that needed tissues.  

well, probably something more substantial than tissues... towels really.   lots and lots of towels!  (i have never done so many loads of laundry in one week in my life!)

don't worry.  i managed to pull myself together enough for most visitors... so if you come to see us you won't be coming to your very own freak show.  only kjaer, my mother and leif have had to witness the true horror of the milk monsters as they wiped up milk that came spilling forth from me.  

lately my monsters have toned it down and settled in.  only every once in awhile do i experience thrilling, horrific moments that make me burst into laughter...  like squirting my unsuspecting son in the face with milk or trying to get a geyser under control because it won't stop spraying  over the top of my son onto our furniture.  oh yes, girlfriend, you too could be capable of such theatrics!  i had no idea... so i'm sharing it with you so that you aren't caught off guard the first time you squirt milk all over your brand new couch like i was.  

back to leif.  my beautiful baby boy.  

we are starting to fall into a rhythm that tells me that i might just be getting the hang of this breastfeeding thing.  i still haven't shared my triumphs and woes with you... those are to follow in another post.  i still have a few kinks i'm working on getting ironed out and i'd like to actually have it all under control before i tell our riveting (insert eye roll here) tale. 

my other little milk monster... the cute one... has been a wonderful adventure.  he is so sweet and angelic... but when he's hungry he has the capability of turning into Frankenstein.  if he's just starting to get hungry, he'll start snorting softly like a little piglet. usually, i find this pretty cute and endearing.  but sometimes, if i'm not moving fast enough, my little man goes from zero to sixty in 2.5 seconds.  one minute he's contentedly sitting there snorting away, the next minute he is THE HUNGRIEST BABY ON EARTH and you just can not feed him soon enough (in the world according to leif).  

this is when the milk monster suddenly replaces my sweet little man.

i experienced this on my first Mother's Day, of all days, at 4 AM in the morning.  leif had woken up ready to eat and apparently his mama was not following directions the way she should have been.  he was being quite dramatic, i tell you, because the whole debacle was totally uncalled for.  we were in his nursery and he was in piglet mode already feeding away hungrily.  however, he kept detaching himself from me and looking at me like i was a criminal for interrupting him (although i wasn't doing anything, i swear!)  i think it's because my monsters are just too good at what they do and he has to jump off to take a breather... but this is clearly something i cannot control.  if i had a volume control switch, trust me, i'd dial it down a few notches.  i'd try, patiently... like a good mama,  to put him back on.  a few minutes later, the cycle would repeat.  each time, leif would get a little more frantic.  

now i should pause here to share that leif has had the typical baby ailments that most babies have in the first few weeks... he has a clogged tear duct that cruds up his eye every morning, baby acne and dry skin.  all of these things are totally normal and most babies have them.

however, i should explain that on Mother's Day morning, leif's "ailments" were in full swing.  his eye was nearly stuck together with gunk, his flaky forehead and baby acne were there in all of there glory.  

so as this cycle of suck, detach, piglet sounds would repeat... his snorting and protesting growing more and more frantic until, i had before me, a little monster whose thirst could simply not be quenched.  his little snorts were so audible i'm surprised he didn't wake kjaer in the next room let alone the little old lady who lives next door.  

i would like to say that i, his perfect mama, looked lovingly into his crusty eyes and smiled as i patiently latched him on again for the kabillionth time.  again, i repeat, would like to say... but truthfully, i was running on about 4 hours of sleep and he kept spitting my boob back out at me and loudly complaining.  i wasn't thrilled to say the least.  

so i picked up my little 9 pound monster, looked straight into his goopy eyes and said, very matter of factly, "leif, you've GOT to WORK with mommy here!"

he just snorted like a little piggy back at me and wailed in protest. 

after the epic battle of the ages

eventually he finished eating, the both of us exhausted after an epic battle of the milk monsters.   i changed his diaper, took a warm washcloth to his little eye and changed his outfit.  i then, basically, dragged leif into bed with me and laid him next to his proud papa.  kjaer woke up, took one look at leif and sleepily exclaimed how angelic our little man looked.

"HAH!" i thought, my nerves still quivering from when leif was practically shouting at me and my chest.  

but sure enough.  there he was, as serene as could be and cute as a button...  his little frog legs pulled up to his tummy and arms stretched out above his head.  his big blue eyes just watching his daddy and me.  my little monster had been subdued and he was back to being my sweet little baby again. 

and that's how it goes here in the kirkegaard household.  i try to wrangle in my monsters while keeping my sweet baby from turning into a monster. maybe we bring the milk monster out in each other. all i know is that i can't wait for the days where leif and i know exactly what we are doing so that we can look a little more like Madonna and child during feeding time and a little less like the last 40 minutes of Transformers: Dark of the Moon. 

 ahhhh, the glorious life of a new mama.