better together.

Mr. P is at a conference for work. I'm alone with the boys until Sunday.

1 night down, 2 to go.

The instant he got into the taxi yesterday and drove off, a certain hollowness engulfed me. I gave Solo a half-hearted smile & said, let's go inside and play.

But, really, all I wanted to do in that moment was curl up into a ball and cry.

Dramatic much?

Just being honest. I don't have the faintest clue why it hit me so hard. We've been apart often in our almost 9 years of marriage. A week here, 2 weeks there, even up to 3 weeks apart a couple of times. But, in all of those trips I've always had family around to distract me. This time, I have to buck up, put on my big girl panties, and solo parent.

Even right now in the quiet of the morning, when I'm normally alone anyway while he's at work, there's a lingering emptiness. My heart is fully aware that he is not sitting at his desk 2 miles down the road, but a distance my heart cannot reach.

Sigh.

A part of me hates the way this makes me feel, but another part of me rejoices in the fact that I have a partner in life I am lucky enough to miss to these kind of depths.

at bedtime.

Did you hear that?

That enormous heave of a sigh that echoed off the plateau of Guadalajara, through the canyons of Northern Mexico and into the U.S.?

Holy. Crap.

Mr. P is working late tonight & I just executed bedtime by myself. The "process" took over an hour. And that's without baths (no way was I going there).

So, it basically consisted of me attempting to nurse Rainer in the side-lying position in Solo's bed as discreetly & calmly as possible, while creating a peaceful atmosphere for bedtime stories and Solo's sleepiness to follow. However, Rainer took a late nap and, to put it lightly, he had a little excessive energy.
'Sleepy-calm-nursing' was more accurately slurp-grunt-fling body-roll over-scoot off the bed-giggle-snort-make Solo laugh-sorta-nursing.

Thus, the hour-long kid-wrangling act. During which I had a few moments I'm so NOT proud of.

After apologizing & asking Solo to forgive me for my harsh words and quick temper, he snuggled up into the warm spot where my neck meets my collarbone and he exhaled. It was a long day. He left for school with Mr. P at 7:15 a.m. and went to a birthday party afterwards with a classmate, not getting dropped off at home until 5:00 p.m. (He's too big for his own good.)

Why is it I miss him so terribly and the void of his absence engulfs me, yet I lash out in frustration with such ease in the moments it takes him to unknowingly turn his pajama shirt inside out? Or when he provokes just a few extra giggles from his baby brother? Why am I fixated on the clock and "the thing" I want to do as soon as his eyelids close during the time I should be most present ?

Mr. P has a work trip coming up. I'll have a few more nights to fail miserably at this. (hold me.)

Or.

Or a few more nights to do this thing differently. To be present. To be patient. To run that last lap with perseverance and focus. To give my boys my undivided attention as their eyelids grow heavy and their breathing soft and steady.

The tucking-in-bedtime-story days are numbered, after all.

four.

Four is awesome.

I'd heard it often; people encouraged me; it was the light at the end of the three-year-old-tunnel-of-doom. (Let's just say the age of three is not a walk in the park.)

Solo makes me chuckle DAILY. Multiple times a day. He's a riot, this boy. Things that come out of his mouth on the regular:

"Mommy, let's just lay on the futon and enjoy the rain, ok?"

"Mommy, I really want to just relax right here."

"Wow. Look at that motorcycle. I can't believe it."

"You are NOT gonna believe this. Wow. Just wow."

"A long, long. long. long time ago when I was two...."

"Right, mommy, we love each other, right?"

"Actually, I want to sit on the couch and eat breakfast."  (I adore the way he says "actually")

His smile is contagious. He is so bright & full of life & energy. He loves his daddy and his little brother (okay, and me) something fierce and holds nothing back.

Just this morning he burst into tears when I said it was time for Rainer's morning nap. Sometimes I think about if we had decided on Solo as our one & only. The love and joy our lives, his life, would have missed is astronomical.

This little boy. This four-year-old-boy brings so many gifts.

Love you Solito.

not so subtle differences

When Solo was ten months old I didn't have a blog. I have no record of what I was thinking or feeling except for my own foggy memories. i was only about a month into treatment for ppd, anxiety, and severe insomnia. I loved my baby something fierce, but the motherhood thing, in general, still fit me awkwardly and uncomfortably, like shoes a half size too small.

I remember being so confused by the comments of "it goes by sooo fast!" or "I blinked and then he was walking!"
For me it was the opposite. At ten months postpartum I felt like I'd had a baby for half my life. He was HUGE. He was practically grown up… but not at all. It was very perplexing.

The week Solo turned ten months old I flew to Colorado by myself for my master's program. 7 nights, 8 days. I missed his first tooth come in. I was a wreck. I laid in my cold, bare dorm room and cried. I tossed and turned each night, anxiety pulsing through my veins like poison. I pumped my breasts with an electric pump and watched the creamy liquid fill the sink in agony. The one piece of evidence that I was a decent mom, gone.
When I returned to Guadalajara, I nursed Solo one last time (funny how a 10 month old knows just what his mommy needs) and just like that, it was over.
Relief.
Sorrow.

Today Rainer turns 10 months old. It's gone sooo fast. I blinked, and he knows how to go up & down stairs, get on and off the futon and feed himself dinner. I understand it now. It all makes sense now. He's TINY. TEENY TINY. And way too big for his own good. It's very perplexing.

I can't imagine being done nursing already. I can't imagine leaving him for a week to go to another country. It's not that I love him more, it's that… well… everything this time is different. That's all.

Solomon, July 2009

Rainer, August 2012

parenthood.

Do you watch the show Parenthood?

You should.

We just finished Season 2 last night. Almost every episode leaves me weepy. The writers are geniuses. They make me laugh, sob, weep, and even dream about the families. It's not uncommon for Mr. P & I to randomly bring up the latest drama between Crosby and Jasmine, the touching scene where Adam finally got through to Max, and how adorable Haddie and Alex are together.

Sigh.

I realize we probably need to get a life, but why?

I honestly don't know how I'm going to cope when we get through Season 3.

{i kid. sortof.}

deep thoughts by Solo

Solomon:
"even boys with earrings don't have babies in their tummies. Only mommies can have babies in their tummies. So, boys don't never have babies in their tummies, they just have lots of food."

Brilliant.

beginning again.

Freshly sharpened pencils. Crisp sheets of colored paper. Clean lunchboxes. New clothes and shoes. Nervous side glances and squeezes from small hands in doorways. 

My heart, once again, walking away from me. 

sleepy eyes at 7:45a.m.!

First days of school.

we surprised Solomon at pick-up with a matchy matchy lil' bro!

the groove.

The house is too quiet.

Baby is napping. Big boy is at school. It's so quiet I can hear the hum of Rainer's sound machine, even with his door closed.

I sense an odd feeling. I think we are transitioning into a new phase of life, with a 4 year old and an almost 10 month old, the grueling days of marathon parenting just *may* be behind us. I don't want to go as far as to say this phase will be easy or comfortable, because, really. We all know that there's not much "easy" about parenting.

So, what is the word I'm looking for?

Nice.

Calm.

Manageable.

The sleepless nights are much fewer and farther between. The baby spit up and screaming are an extremely rare occurrence. The boys adore each other and even play together, in the most precious ways. Rainer takes predictable naps, we have a bedtime routine, dinners are becoming more enjoyable, and we've even figured out how to fit in regular exercise & dates as a couple.

We've hit our groove.

I don't want to speak too soon, but I've gotta admit, it's nice.

We are so utterly thankful.

{Just Write}

quiet.

It's rare that I sacrifice sleep to wake up before the boys. But, today I woke up at 5:45, and instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, I decided to get up.

Sometimes it's worth it,  you know?

A long, leisurely shower, putting on my make-up in peace & quiet, sitting by myself in the dark listening to the birds outside.  This is the only time of day I can witness stillness, near-silence in this city.

That little voice inside me keeps nagging me to do something productive with these rare quiet moments - like squeeze in a workout, do those dishes from dinner last night, start cleaning for our playdate this afternoon.

Do. Do. Do. Do. Go. Go. Go. Go.

No, thank you.

I'm just fine sitting here in stillness, thankyouverymuch. I deserve this.

I night her name is Maggie

You know that little microphone on the iPad keyboard (or iPhone, etc) that does speech recognition? For all of us too lazy to actually type? Yeah. That.

Solo is slightly obsessed with it. I'll walk into a room to the sound of the little beep when it begins to record and his squeaky voice saying over and over "hola! hi. I'm Solomon. I want to play. Bye."  I'd love to know who he thinks he's talking to, and why the fascination.

Yesterday while Rainer was napping we were playing around with the iPad and recording random conversations. We want to have recordings of the sound of Solo's voice at different stages, as well as the memories of how silly he used to pronounce certain words.

Mr. P asked if he wanted to send me an email. Of course he did.  Below is what that little magical microphone interpreted as he dictated me a message:

Hello mommy
Like okay
Hi are you today hi night underwater Mooreshill I night her name is Maggie
I like to allegedly Sharon and I do not name's not tonight yeah I'm out or did not Menown lots Malielie I are man-to-man CIE did not detonate that easy

Apparently Apple voice interpretation has some serious work to do in the 4 year old department.

I just had to name this post I night her name is Maggie, because after we read Solo the email he proceeded to run around repeating that phrase, peeling over in hysterical laughter each time. Finally, he looked at me and asked, "Who's Maggie???" And abruptly burst into giggles.

Love this age.

easy like saturday mornin'.

For the past couple of months, Mr. P & I have gone out on "day dates" almost every Saturday. I don't yet feel comfortable leaving the kids with anyone in the evenings, as I'm still nursing Rainer and evenings can be 'delicate' with little people.

So, off we go each Saturday around 10:30 in the morning, usually to a favorite coffee shop to enjoy the free wifi and sip our drinks leisurely, feet propped up & all. Occasionally, we will also pack our running gear and go for a quick 3 miler together, like we used to in our early days of dating and marriage. When our tummies begin to rumble, we settle on a nearby eatery and enjoy an early lunch. Nothing is really planned; it's just what we feel like doing in the moment, and it is sweet.

I can't tell you how refreshed we feel by 2pm when we pull back into our garage. There is something about a few hours of adult time that makes those little people so much sweeter, cuter, loveable.

Happy weekend! xo

on growing up.

So, he's been four a measly week, and so much has changed already. It's like those big shards of rock salt rubbing deep into my wounds. All traces of 'little' are gone.

Last night I asked for a hug, a huge hug, and he jumped up into my arms and wrapped his legs tight around my middle. Those legs, that were once soft and stubby, now wrap entirely around me. Where did the time go? I remember the soft and stubbiness, but what about all the in between that led to these long & lanky limbs?

I want everything to just stop for a bit. It's going too fast.

The other day Mr. P gave Solo a shower and washed his hair. As we got Rainer ready for bed, we let Solo sit and watch a TV show. The way the light landed on his damp hair made it glow. The layers of hair fell in such a lovely way onto his forehead, and Mr. P ran his fingers through it, looking wistfully at me, "You know, someday a girl he loves will run her fingers through his hair just like this."

No. nononononono. Nooo. Not yet.

Somehow the change from 3 to 4 has been the most drastic so far. I was so ready for this, (the emotional upheaval that was 3 was welcome to leave long ago) but also 3 was definitely the last year of "littleness." Now it's just big boy through and through, and I'm not so sure I recognize this kid who closes the door to use the bathroom, and can put his socks on all by himself. Yet, in the same breath, my love for him just multiplies with each year, like I never thought it would, or could.

It's been 10 days now since he last sucked his thumb. On August 1st, the eve of his fourth birthday, we went for it.  Again. We'd been down this road before. Lectures from the dentist, incentives, prizes. But, he was never ready until now. Simple as that.

The first 2-3 days or so were extremely rough. Watching his little heart and mind and body struggle against the urge to do something that he so naturally had done every single day for almost four years broke my momma heart. But, it wasn't me, it was HIM. He had made up his mind to stop, and as hard as it was, he wasn't giving up. Laying beside him in bed as he tossed and turned, heaving sighs of frustration, and ultimately laying on top of his hands to fall asleep, I choked back tears. The intensity of his independence in those moments overwhelmed me. He is 100% his own person.

And a breathtakingly wonderful one at that.

to me, to run.

I've been running a lot lately. With Mr. P home the month of July we were spoiled with the luxury of time to devote to our hobbies and pleasures. Almost every morning we would take turns watching the boys while the other went on a 45-90 minute run. I realized that when I'm running I'm just me. It's the one time when I'm not a mommy, or even a wife. I'm just me doing what I've loved to do for the past 12+ years. It's a comforting feeling.

There are years, even decades, that we devote to our children and that is beautiful & lovely & admirable. But, sometimes we lose ourselves among the diapers and tonka trucks. We forget the simple things that give life to our weary souls. The sound of my own labored breathing, the thumping of my shoes against the pavement, the trickle of sweat down my temples, the glare of the sun in my eyes. It's all familiar, like an old childhood friend. It's time when I'm just me; nothing to cover up the blemishes, nobody to impress. Minutes for my mind to wander, and for my body to get tired because it wants to, because it's good for it, because it's what it needs to thrive.

to my readers,

Recently I've received a few encouraging emails from new readers.
Cristina, thank you.
Joanna, thank you.
Thank you for reminding me why this space is so sacred.
Thank you for challenging me to be the kind of mom worthy of praise.
Thank you for reciprocating honesty, authenticity and friendship.
Thank you for inspiring me to share from my heart, to write truth, and to be a beacon of hope to those in darkness.
Thank you.

dear rainer,

You are nine and a half months old.
There is so much I want to freeze in time & tattoo on my memory, so that I can always access who "you" are at this exact moment in time.

You are a momma's boy, through and through. I cannot even tell you how much this heals my deepest wounds. I'm sorry that I need you to need me like that, but I thank you for being the vessel to heal me.

You have two perfect bottom teeth. They are adorable little squares, exact and straight.  When you smile you scrunch up your nose & usually make hilarious grunting noises. You are inhibited in your expression of all emotions. I can learn so much from you in that sense. You are our spirited one.

The other day you threw your first temper tantrum. You know what you want, and with all the focus and strength you have in your little 19 pound frame you go for it.  With everything. Whether it's a power cord, a marker, or my arms in the middle of the night, you don't easily give up. I know someday I will love you even more than I do now for that.

When you get excited you start hee-ing and haw-ing and flapping your arms wildly. I need to start saving up now for your trips to Italy.

You love bananas, blueberries, rice cakes, carrots and cheerios. You could do without spinach, but we know what's best for you.

Every day you are getting stronger and more independent. It really shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Thus, the dilemma of a mommy - the loving and the letting go. It's already tearing me apart in the most beautiful and gut-wrenching ways.
I love you, always.

childlike

It's not often I have the opportunity or freedom to be like a child again.
When the opportunity does arise, it's my instinct to suppress the desire instead of embrace it.
In recent months, however, I've felt challenged to create memories worth remembering in daily life. I've felt impelled to really live out the phrase "Arms Wide Open." I've been reminded how fortunate I am to have my health this time around postpartum, and I don't want to take it for granted.
The other afternoon an impressive rainstorm began out of nowhere. The four of us were playing cars in the living room, but were quickly drawn to the windows as the palm trees swayed and the rain attacked the patio tiles with force.
Without allowing myself to think I opened the sliding door, ran outside and began to dance in the rain.
Solomon stared at me with eyes wide as saucers.
A curious grin formed on his lips. It was almost as if his face was speaking his thoughts, "Who is this lady?!"
As I danced and jumped and ran through the mushy grass, I felt like a kid again. I wasn't a 30 year old mommy anymore, I was a child craving the freedom to just be in the moment.

a special day today.

Solo is four years old today.

According to him, he's been four since June, when we held his birthday party, so I'm not even going to say anything to him. I'm just going to hold the date in my heart like my own little secret. August second.

I remember laying on the operating table, at about 2:45 p.m, sucking in gusts of air, gritting my teeth as they yanked around inside me, trying to pull his huge head out into the world. When I heard him cry, everything in me breathed gratitude to God.

A life, given.

To me, to us.

I had absolutely no idea what was in store for us. The intense array of emotion and experience, and how these 7 pounds of flesh and bone would rock my existence in ways I never thought possible.

It's been four years since that day when everything changed. There is a little life that pads around our house barefoot, rummaging through the fridge when he's hungry, plops down on the futon when he's sleepy, giggles incessantly when we tickle him, and grunts and zooms his cars and airplanes tirelessly.

There's very little evidence left of postpartum depression. He still cries for daddy when he's sleepy, or when he's sick. He still gives me the cold shoulder whenever he has a choice. (but I know he's crazy about me.) There are those tiny reminders that I was sick when we should have been bonding. But he reassures me, too, that I'm a good mommy and I know he loves me.

At dinner time, we take turns telling each other something we love about each person. When Solo turns to me, sometimes I still feel those twinges of insecurity. But then his squeaky voice shyly says,

"um. mommy. i wub you because you pway cars wif me."

It's really as simple as that.

Happy birthday to my gift, Solomon.

Beginning again

Freshly sharpened pencils. Crisp sheets of colored paper. Clean lunchboxes. New clothes and shoes. Nervous side glances and squeezes from small hands in doorways.

My heart, once again, walking away from me.

First days of school.