A Rededication

Believe it or not, someone asked me to keep blogging. I won't name names, but it might rhyme with "Schm-Ida."

So, what has our family been up to? Making babies. Well, just one. Due to make its arrival around April 24, 2014. With Bluma, I did a great job blogging and taking pictures. This time, not so much. Which I've heard is fairly typical of subsequent children. That doesn't mean we're not excited but I'll be completely frank, it's not quite as magical as it was the first time around.

With Bluma, everything was a miracle. Every change and experience was a wonder. This time, up until recently most of my feelings were marred up in how tired I was. In fact, my first clue that I was pregnant again was one afternoon, I found myself passed out, face first on a couch during my daughter's nap without intending to. I'm normally not much of a napper.

Then came the craving for a cheeseburger. Something that never sounds good unless there's a little stowaway on board, demanding more protein.

And then my hair started falling out. Most women experience a resetting of their hair follicles following the birth of their child but get to enjoy a lucious, full head of hair during their pregnancy. Me, being one of the supremely lucky, got to be an early resetter this time. My hair has fallen out in alarming quantities. Enough so, that I felt the need to mention it to my doctor. No nutritional deficits, just bad luck. Fortunately, I have an abnormally dense head of hair so the only other person who has noticed my balding is my husband. His is worse so, he doesn't find mine to be off-putting.

The hair loss has my husband convinced this baby is a boy. Since it is so different from Bluma. He has also said that I look really pretty this time, meaning there's no one "stealing my beauty" so it must be a boy. What that says for the last time around, I'm not sure. I just like to chalk it up to me being better at being pregnant this time around.

A lot of people ask how Bluma feels about being a big sister. I think she understands as much as she can at her age. If you ask her what is in Mommy's belly she replies without fail, "a baby girl!" Tonight she shouted at my stomach, "HELLO IN THERE! IT'S ME, BLUMA!"

How another baby will change Bluma's world is the main thing that kept me from feeling ecstatic at first. Instead I felt a little guilty that I was taking some of Bluma's spotlight away. She won't be the center of our world anymore. But I've started to feel better and my heart has finally caught up with my head in recognizing that this baby is a gift to Bluma just as much as it is a gift to us. What could be better than a sibling? I was always so glad to have mine. And this little gal is going to be a great big sister and this man, a fabulous father times two.

Satisfaction

We moved to Texas about one month ago. It feels much longer than that though. Our lives have changed. We knew it would, the way one knows something pragmatically; but we had no idea how it would feel.

I am happy to report that it feels amazing. Many of Arna's classmates and peers can fully relate to the lifestyle we left. One which is full of hoping for funding, fellowship, insurance, a livable wage... Life is hard on a writer, on any artist for that matter. Yet, somehow we lived happily. We stayed positive despite never being able to look more than a year or so at a time into the future with any sort of certainty. We feel incredibly fortunate now that after all of Arna's dogged hard work he was offered a fulltime professorship and we can breathe.

And now for the tangible differences: our home is twice the size it used to be, with a yard that Bluma can safely explore; flanked by wonderful neighbors and households filled with young children.

I'm not bragging. We still rent and it's a modest house but it might as well be our dream home. I'm slightly embarassed to admit that my fantasies for a perfect life were built around a home that offered a separate living room and dining space and a driveway suitable for sidewalk chalk. Now that those dreams are realized, I find myself in this blissful state of just enjoying and not wanting. I'm not battling pangs of desire for a better this or that, I'm content.

I'm unsure if this type of experience is one that many in my generation can relate to. Being satisfied with one's own humble accomplishments isn't a value that is earnestly promoted these days. Most people say they want to be happy, but their aspirations are so awesome that it can limit their potentional to acheive it. I admire people with huge goals. (Obviously, I mean, I married a writer.) But I feel lucky to want simple things. Anything beyond what we live now is a cherry on top of my sundae.

Bluma is 15 months old. She walks like a pro. She gives closed-mouth kisses as opposed to the puppy-style licks she used to give. She likes to dance everyday. We turn on music and she usually likes it best if I pick her up and dance with her. She insists on holding hands in the proper form with our fingers laced.

She understands hundreds of words and tries to repeat everything she hears. She can say the following words in the correct context : Yay, No, Yes, Baby, Diaper, Blocks, Wipes, Cheese, Hot, Apple, Dog, Rice, Banana, Hotdog, Juice, Book, Tigger...

Speaking of Tigger. How do little people know to love cartoon characters? We don't watch Winnie The Pooh and don't have any Winnie The Pooh books, yet when Bluma received a Tigger for Christmas, she instantly fell in love with him. He's become her baby. When asked what Tigger likes to do, she replies emphatically, "Bounce! Bounce!" (Which sounds like "bow bow") and bounces his body up and down.

Tigger receives many hugs and kisses and she feeds him. She goes to her kitchen and pulls food out of her fridge and feeds him. She usually prefers that I hold Tigger in my lap and voice his appreciation for the food, moving his arms and head. It's adorable to see her caring for a stuffed animal.

Affection

I have not looked into at what age a tiny human usually begins showing love towards others. The parent in me chooses to believe that Bluma's ability and desire to be affectionate makes her an emotional genius.

She loves to hug. She throws her arms tightly around Arna or I and rests her head. Even furry friends like our cat, and anyone else's cat for that matter, are targets of Bluma's bear hugs. Dogs however, she is weary of. We're working on that.

Sometimes she'll attempt to give kisses which are incredibly sweet despite them being open-mouthed. She pats and pets with gentle little hands. Occasionally, she will find our bare feet, bring them together, and set her face on them, nestling her nose between them. Her touches are heavenly. My heart feels so loved.

This afternoon while sitting with Bluma, rocking in preparation for a nap she began fussing and pawing at my head. I honestly thought she was trying to get something off of me, I guess I already trust her. I leaned my head forward and she grabbed my ears, pulling my chin further down and toward her. Then, her strong little arms encircled my neck and she burrowed her head between my chin and shoulder. Her lips rested on my collarbone and she exhaled softly; and her body relaxed. She just wanted to be held closer.

I swear, she is the most loving baby to ever exist. Though, she has also bitten me, so, it's not all perfect moments. She has a degree of ferocious inside of her, and I'm glad for it.

One year of Amazing

Our beautiful daughter turned one year old last week. I am determined to not allow myself to be sad. It's a gift that she has been healthy and happy. It has been a gift to be able to spend every day loving and enjoying her.

She has grown and changed so much! From this perfect, round, little ball with curious, wide eyes and dopey smiles; to the ornery, fiery and affectionate little girl she is now. I remember all of her milestones. I remember what it felt like to hold her for the very first time. She was so soft and so warm, almost hot to the touch. Holding her was surreal. There is nothing like the first time your baby is in your arms and you have a full sensory experience of what was still just an idea a moment before.

We make fun of our parents when we are children for getting emotional over silly things. I get it now. Watching her try and learn is a whirlwind of feeling. There was overwhelming joy when she first rolled, cooed, shook a rattle, scooted, sat up, crawled...and there was also a tiny heartbreak. Why can't every day last forever? I want her to grow up and have a full, rich life but I could die happy having a lifetime of living this first year over and over again. I have trouble accepting the truth that I cannot.

One moment that sticks out to me from this year was when she noticed me exhaling through my nose. She was snuggled in close, nursing. She often will stroke my face or play with my hair while she is nursing. This time, she was poking my nose and I exhaled a breath which was exaggerated with mild annoyance. Her eyes lit up and a smile parted her lips. Her tiny index finger pushed at my lip and I again exhaled strongly.

She giggled.

Then I heard her make a sort of panting noise as she tried to imitate the sound of my breath. She held her hand up to her nose and felt the air rush out against her palm.

And she understood.

It sounds so simple, and I suppose it is but it was marvelous to experience. Watching a tiny human being understand something about their world in real time makes me feel more alive, more ecstatic and exhilarated than anything else, bar none. I immediately called Arna to share it with him. Another thing that makes me lucky is the fact that he is just as in love with her as I am.

"That sounds amazing." He said.

I love being a mother. Love isn't a strong enough word. I live because I am a mother. Bluma opens a world up to me, both external and internal. I feel fulfilled emotionally, spiritually and psychologically through this little girl. She has changed me and my heart and someday, I'm going to have to let her go.

But not today. So, Happy Birthday to my perfect little Pumpkin Dumpling. I can't wait until you wake up tomorrow and I get to hear what you "say" and see what you do and be on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses.

10 Months of Sunshine

Fall is starting to sneak in on us. It's meant that we have been able to have more fun outside. I have plenty of pictures that I would like to show you of our fun but I can't post them from my iPad. It's very frustrating. Are you listening, blogger? Fix that please.

Anyway, our beautiful little Dumpling is now 10 months old. She has learned all sorts of new things:

- Army crawling
- Feeding herself
- Clapping
- Remembering how things work/ Where things are
- Playing peekaboo
- Pulls herself to standing
- Bobs her head and wiggles her butt to music (AKA the most adorable thing, ever)
- Has two teeth making their way through her bottom gum
- Drinks from a sippy cup
- Plays Hide and Seek (I go around the corner or to another room where she can't see me, and she crawls over to find me)

She quickly calms and falls asleep to "You Are My Sunshine." My aunt witnessed this once and after seeing Bluma go from crying to snoozing in about 30 seconds, she remarked, "You know, that's not normal, right?"

I changed the words a little because "When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and cried..." seemed too dark for a lullaby. Instead, I sing, "When I awoke, dear, it was the morning, so I went and gave you kisses..." She doesn't seem to mind the change.

 She prefers to sleep on her tummy now. As soon as I lay her in her crib, she flips over. I preferred to sleep on my belly, too up until I was pregnant. She seems to sleep better this way, both at night and for naps. I love seeing her assert her preferences.

We like to read, play with her toys, and listen and sing to music.  We still go to the library every week for the Book Babies program and go on outings with the local moms group. Last week, we went to a petting zoo.

We've started making plans for her birthday. It's going to be a tough day. This first year with her is going much too fast. She's so amazing.

We've also been looking at Halloween costumes for her. Arna likes pumpkins and I really like animals. There is a lamb costume and a lion costume that both have me filled with giggles whenever I look at the picture. I'd like to make her costumes someday but I'll need a sewing machine for that to happen.

On our list this month is to take Bluma to the orchard. I'm looking forward to it. Arna and I love going there. 

How Can I Explain This to My Daughter?

Unfortunately, there have been many shootings in my lifetime. For some reason, the Aurora attack has weighed on my heart and mind unlike any others. I don't know why exactly. Maybe it's because the majority of the people who died in the attack were my age. I was listening to an NPR report yesterday morning in which they read the deceased victims. "Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-four..." But then again, maybe that's not it. I don't think that a twenty something year old person is more valuable than a fifty year old person. Maybe it's because there were children there. Maybe it's because I always thought of going to a movie as a safe and innocent activity. The biggest trouble one witnessed was a group of teenagers trying to sneak into an R rated film. Perhaps it's because once I became a mother, I viewed people in an entirely new way. I appreciate the love that went into creating them and raising them. I see them as children at variously grown-up stages. Regardless of one's past, we have all been loved by somebody. Most of us have been cherished by our parents or guardians. And so I feel a very real and close pang of grief whenever I hear of someone dying, especially at the hands of another. Whatever the reason, I can't help feeling like a part of my heart has changed. A sensation similar to motion sickness sets in when I think of it. My pulse quickens. My head feels light. I consider what I could possibly say to Bluma when she asks me why these things happen. What kind of person could be so senseless, selfish and violent? I want her to believe that she is equal to others. That everyone deserves her kindness and respect but how can I do that with a clear conscience when every now and then that's a monster hiding inside a normal looking human being. A factor complicating the matter is that I am not a religious woman. The most common way I hear others explain to their children these events sounds something like this: Everything happens for a reason. God has a plan for everyone and while we can't understand it, we have to believe in it. All of the victims are at peace now in Heaven. That's fine and comforting if you believe in it, but I don't. And I don't want to lie to my daughter. I don't mean lie as in tell her something I believe to be false but as in tell her something is a fact when I don't know it to be. I want to believe there is a heaven and that all of the pain we experience on earth is justified in the end when our good deeds are rewarded but I can't because I know the only thing motivating me to believe that is my own desire for comfort. So what do I say to her? I suppose I'll say the only thing I know to say to myself: Sad things happen. For most of them, we'll never know the reason because there won't be one. Violent acts are not motivated by logic nor are they committed by reasonable people. Nobody deserves to be a victim. We are all humans. We are all equal. All we can do in the wake of a tragedy is to be compassionate to one another and try to learn how to prevent something similar from happening in the future. And to mindful of how short life can be, how precious each moment and experience is and how you should show your love for the people in your life each day, in every way possible. I know the above to be true and it comforts me. I can hope that as I age, I'll find clarity in my thoughts on God and life but I won't try to tell Bluma to believe whatever I think. I want her to find comfort in facts and in the life she can observe. I wish I could give her more than this world has to offer. She deserves more.