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.