Nip Slip

Some easy-access finds for the summer..

Anthropologie - $78

Anthropologie - $138

Anthropologie - $98

Anthropologie -$148

Anthropologie -$89

Anthropologie -$148

Uniqlo -$19.90

Uniqlo -$12.90

summer shoes for the baby carrier

Since my little M came in at 21 pounds at the 10-month check-up, once that boy is strapped into his Ergo there is very little bending over that can happen. So this summer, my goal is to find the most comfortable sandals that can be slipped on and can be considered cute (please note that I find granny shoes cute so please know that I use this term loosely). Here is what I found:

Worishofer sandals.. Yes, the ubiquous German comfort shoe. I've been wearing them for years and am hoping that the irony isn't lost now that I am a mom. (I just ordered this pair)

No. 6 Sandals.. I spent this winter in the boot version and managed to not trip on ice while pushing the stroller, but I admit that I wasn't brave enough to wear them with the carrier.. That said, plenty of Brooklyn mamas are sporting high clogs with their littles, so I know it can be done!

Bensimon's.. Europe's answer to Vans.. pretty comfy, easy to get on and off and comes in neutral and bright colors. These Old Navy cheapies are almost as cute and 1/4 of the price.

The Everlane Summer Sandal is a safe bet.. Comes in tan and black so you don't need to think about it clashing with your duds, has a flat sole  and although is not technically a 'slip-on' the strap fastener looks like you could do it one-handed.

Ancient Greek Sandals.. Comes in a ton of styles and colors (love the gold leather) 

Birkenstock Gizeh.. OK, so I went there.. but there is a reason you see so many ladies in the city wearing these.. they are damn comfortable! I just saw a woman wearing a chic black and white outfit with this bright pair. Neon green is not a color I am usually drawn to, but it looked fantastic and made me reconsider my next pair. 

Books for the Boys

When we were visiting mom, I was rummaging through the guest room looking for a book to read to Munch before bed. My jaw literally dropped when I found my beloved copy of Englebert the Elephant. I immediately texted dad that the book had not been lost, as we had assumed, and he quickly replied, "to relieve her royal boredom, the Queen announced a ball," which is the first line of the story and might give some indication of how many times he had to read this to us. I was so excited to share the story with Charlie. As you might imagine, at six months, he was hardly the most captive audience; but we forged through it, and ever since I have been getting giddy imagining all the great books and movies we have to look forward to experiencing with our little guys. I recently ordered The Red Balloon, for fear that it might become a challenge to find, and even though television is (allegedly) so dreadful... I'm really excited for the day we can watch this flick together!

Watching Love Unfold

Apologies for my recent silence. Its been one of those funky weeks; a heat wave, a huge fight that I am still processing, all night teething, a sinus infection. Its not to say that its been all bad, peanut is starting to cruise, standing on anything and everything and everybody and its wonderful to watch. Although its stressful, too, because there have been bumps and toppling over and letting it happen goes so against your nature but sometimes you just have to let them fall, let them figure it out. All this just to say that I am thoroughly exhausted, and as I write this its 10:02AM.

But I am noticing something kind of spectacular. Something I didn't know I would be able to literally see. I am watching a love story. A love happening between L and M that is beyond any words I can muster up - sleep deprived or not. 

L has always been a wonderful dad. In a way, he has been a more natural nuturer than I have been. Our second night in the hospital together (the first that he could stay over) after the fifth wheeling in of our little one, who was hungry but couldn't latch, L swaddled him up and put M on his chest, covered them with a warm blanket and slept like that. For hours. They slept peacefully and I watched them and felt confusion and all sorts of things that you might feel after giving birth and not sleeping and not being able to nurse and hurting and loving. He has always been kind, he was the master swaddler in the early days, now he is the master rocker at night. He carries M on his shoulders and tosses him in the air, he secretly feeds him almond croissants in the morning while I 'sleep in' and he carries him in the ergo while he works, oblivious to M's tuggings of noses and hair. He is a rockstar dad, and though I was kind of expecting it, it really does blow me away.

But.. he's also the dad. He doesn't wake at M's first cry, he has aways been the 'leave him in his crib and let him cry he's fine' one between the two of us, after a few glasses of wine he would rather talk politics than the sweetness of the back of M's head, with new curls springing up daily. 

Until yesterday. Something happened yesterday, something subtle but I watched it. I put M down for his morning nap. Usually he goes right out, might hum a bit or do his mama's and dada's, but its pretty soon he will be in dreamland. But yesterday was all tears, cries, wails. We could see in his video monitor that he was sitting up in his crib, crying, pleading. I went to the bathroom to distract myself with a shower, all the while hearing L's "Leave him in his crib and let him cry" line going in my head.. repeating.. even now, 10 months in, those cries are needles pricking into my every pore. When the water was off there were still cries. So I stayed in the bathroom a few extra minutes, hoping he would be asleep any moment. I had left the door cracked to let the steam out and make sure I could hear everything, and I see L walk into the room and silence. M is silent. I look in the monitor and there is L, rocking M, there is M closing his eyes, and L keeps holding him and looking at him, and I SEE it. I could see it. I could see a dad falling in love. Deep. When L emerged, his eyes were wet and he said "I just love him so much, I love him so much" and I knew exactly what was happening. Because it had happened to me, earlier, but not instantly. And I think by and large it may happen to dads a little bit later. They might need the time to settle into their role, to share their partners body that was once more theirs, to understand what all of the fuss was about. I fell slowly and softly in love, with mixed feelings and fear and worry. L fell hard and fast, and just like that, we spent our last night with too much wine and talking about the dimples on M's elbows and the noises he makes when he's happy. So here is one of the simplest, complicated, deepest loves between a father and son. I gave M a good one. It wasn't all bad, its really all good.

Date Night

Last night Ben and I went on our first post-baby date. We met up with (new) friends at a restaurant downtown. I got to wear a dress not equipped for breastfeeding, chew my food, indulge in an extra glass of wine, and have real conversation. Ben and I were practically giddy on the ride home; it had been such a thrill to spend a night out with other adults, and (momentarily) come up for air from the vast sea, that is parenting. I am now a date night devotee. As hard as it was to leave Charlie, and wonder (and worry) how we handle our absence? I am officially convinced that it is imperative for our relationship to seize the opportunities to enjoy each other and embrace new things.

Positive Thinking

I am not naturally the most positive person. That's kind of a hard thing to admit about oneself, but it's true. This is not to say that I have a gloomy disposition, I just tend to look at the glass as being almost full. I never really minded this about myself. I felt like it would be disingenuous to always claim 'happiness' even when circumstances were less than ideal, but lately (more specifically, since Charlie) I've started to be bothered by my lukewarm outlook. I have come to realize that a quality I genuinely admire in other people, is their positive perspective... It's a quality I would really love for Charlie to have. In acknowledging these truths, I have decided that even if it takes work, I am going to have to harness my own silver lining skills. At first this felt like an inauthentic ambition, but I think it's okay (even healthy) to admit that for some of us it takes more effort to see the good in the not so good.

Here are some ideas I am cultivating to combat negative thoughts.

1. Have you ever met someone who is a TRUE pessimist? The kind of person who only acknowledges what is wrong. I knew a guy like this in college; whenever my good friend and I (we were hardly optimists) ran into this gentleman on campus, we instantly turned into Suzy Sunshine. Our exchanges often went something like this:

GUY: This weather is miserable.
US: Isn't there something so cozy about a dark rainy day!
GUY: All of my professors are total jokes.
US: We have such a stimulating classes this semester!

You get the picture... So, whenever my internal monologue takes a wrong turn, I am going to think of that guy. I am going to pretend that my own diatribe is actually coming out of his mouth, which will hopefully rouse my inner optimist to point out the POSITIVES of such a scenario.

2. Write it down/get it out. I once read an account of someones experience in a mental institution; they recalled the only things in their room were an unmade bed, a blank notebook and a pen. Writing can be so therapeutic. Sometimes when I am truly frustrated someone, I write a letter I don't (really) plan on sending. Without fail, about half-way through I always realize how ridiculous my initial annoyance was, and that letter gets dragged to the (unsent) draft box.

3. MOVE. It's kind of amazing how the act of walking can clear my head. If I am ever really and truly grumpy, there is no better fix than this. At first my mind might be racing with stressful thoughts, but soon I'll be paying attention to my surroundings, the rhythm of my steps, and pretty soon I'll lose track of whatever it was that was bothering me.

Of course, this is not a fail proof plan, nor am I expecting (or suggesting) that I should suddenly become some sort of stoic who feels embarrassed by having an off day. Life is filled with off days, and being a new parent (amongst other things) can be particularly rocky--- it's comforting to know we aren't alone in those struggles. This effort is really just about trying to find a healthier balance between positive and negative, and to appreciate the small things I so easily forget to acknowledge. I'll keep you posted on how this little experiment unfolds.

Design Projects

Ben and I are moving... again! Finding an apartment has been really stressful; turns out DC (rental) real estate is just as (if not MORE) outrageous than NY. The only upside is that you tend to get more bang for your buck. After a million discussions/debates/a few rental applications, we finally agreed that it made the most sense to move back to our old neighborhood. Chevy Chase DC is a super strange place, if it existed in NYC it would undoubtedly be discovered and co-oped by hipsters who reveled in its almost frozen (mid 90's) existence. I mean the place has a fully functioning video store (one that we frequented often), and an old diner that plays The Graduate on an outdoor projector in the middle of July. It also has quite a few characters, and a small town feel on the edge of the City. It's a little strange to be moving further away from the 'action,' but I think Charlie will have an utterly charming babyhood in this idyllic little hamlet, and Ben and I will be saving enough money to take more trips up north.

The only thing we like about moving is the potential for another design project. Our studio apartment in  Brooklyn was kind of a major triumph; the perfect blend of our two personalities. Designing a 'nursery' for Charlie before he was born proved harder than I anticipated. I chose a lot of boyish cliches, feeling overwhelmed by the prospect of dealing with a real life boy every day. Now that Munch is here, and I know him a little better... It's really exciting to start anticipating all the different directions we can go in with HIS room... And this time I am hoping it actually becomes his room!

Forward March

Something happened at the 9 month mark.. No day is ever the same, no matter how hard I try to stick with my schedule. And every day now there seems to be a new trick learned. Yesterday it was standing upright and holding on to something (really someone) with one hand and today he started waving. It looks more like a floppy queen wave, but its. a. wave. He has also perfected the art of dancing to every tune that comes on, which makes the sporadic ice-cream truck drive-by and dance themed ringtones take on a whole new level of awesomeness. I can't get over it. I have a chubby baby who dances. I am complete. I keep fighting the urge to hold on too tightly to this baby stage, to photograph every second and weep thinking about how quickly it's going by, but I am also overwhelmed by how excited I am to watch this boy grow. I am privileged for it. I am slayed by it.
All this to say.. Happy Friday, Bears.

Attention Please

I haven't read many books on parenting. In truth, even the most informational text on what to expect can unleash a flood of anxiety on my sleep deprived mind, and send me to (the dangerous) google, which directs me to New Mom forums where they use a slue of abbreviations I cease to understand (why use LO when we can just write BABY?). One of the most perplexing issues I deal with (on the daily) is how to keep Charlie entertained? I torture myself with this subject. Am I playing with him enough? Are these activities stimulating? Too redundant? Have I pointed out and explained new things to him today? Am I using words in the right context (another result of sleep deprivation)? Or making any sense?

On more than one occasion I have heard the anecdote of the baby instantly strapped to its mothers hip for a full days work. Of course, this is far from Charlie's existence; he is held, tickled, talked to, and played with from (almost) the moment he wakes until it is time for bed. I rarely use my computer around him. My one purely selfish indulgence is phone calls with Auntie and the NYC family. Not to sound like a martyr. After all, I get to hang out, tickle, talk to, and play with Charlie every day! But sometimes I wonder if all of this attention deprives him of a couple of potentially important things. The opportunity to explore independently of me? The chance to embrace silence (which I wish I learned to love earlier in life)? And maybe even, the best version of his mom. Would it be so negative for Charlie to see--- even at this ridiculously early stage--- mom working on and enjoying some things for herself? Would his math skills plummet if he knows that while he is always the center of my universe, other things exist and need to be tended to?

I know if someone else asked me for advice on this topic, I would be very les-et-faire; I might even tell them anecdote of the baby strapped to its mothers hip promptly after its birth. But the truth is, when it comes to telling myself that it would be okay to exist for Charlie as something other than a playmate/full-time entertainer... I feel guilty. Is it okay to give ourselves permission to do things other than parent when we are full-time parents (other than at nap time)? And is our undivided attention for our babies benefit? Or our own?

balance

                                                         Photo by: Julie Blackmon

I was reading this post in the Times about the work/life balance.. oh the balance.. is there such a thing? If it exists or not, it is something I think of often. When I was pregnant with M, I worked until the day before my water broke. I took the subway back and forth to midtown, oftentimes not getting a seat, I carried my groceries up the two flights of steep steps to our apartment, I went to a photo shoot that week before giving birth, on my feet for a stretch of 8 hours, trying not to complain to the young cute photo dudes blasting Arcade Fire and watching me with a nervous eye, hoping my labor didn't start in their studio. I'm no super-woman, if anything I think I was in a bit of denial about the whole thing. I didn't take it easy, I couldn't. Taking it easy meant giving in, meant this was real, meant my body wasn't my own.. and it wasn't and it still isn't and that's a hard thing to accept when you're not used to an alien being kicking you from within, making your skin sallow, your hips separate and your nerves frazzle. Two weeks before M was born, I did take a taxi to work - and only because I brought a huge load of framed prints to decorate my office with. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant, standing on an office chair with a hammer and nails yammering away, annoying my coworkers, marking my territory. My office was small, dark and without windows - but it was mine. My room of ones own. And having an office in the Time Life building seemed to me, back then, to be a very big deal.

In hindsight, I was scared.. terrified, really, that I might not come back. That the love for this little thing moving about, hiccuping every afternoon, would be so great that I wouldn't return to my little cave-like office in midtown. I think I knew it might happen, and it shook me. So when M was born, my coworkers were the first ones invited to see him, I pumped hundreds of ounces of milk in little sterile bags marked with dates and amounts.. I interviews over a dozen nannies, called references, bought large black dress pants and read endless articles on returning back to work. I walked around in a daze, with M in my coat, sleeping huddled next to me, his lips parted and sweet breath on my chest. I was a wreck, and for weeks I walked around Brooklyn in hopes of finding an answer. I wanted to be supermom. I missed my routine, I missed my coffee breaks and the water-cooler banter and the subway ride and deadlines and photo shoots and lunch breaks. I missed getting dressed in the morning, I missed being part of that mass of people heading to work, pissed and excited and annoyed and eager. Everything I knew about myself was gone, I wasn't one thing or another, I was lost.

After extending my unpaid maternity leave as far as I could, after asking every woman on the street with a child what should I do, after finding a job I could do from home, after staring at my baby and even asking him what he would like.. I decided I couldn't go back to my spot on 50th street. Not yet, not just yet. In fact I remember the very moment I knew, and it hurt my heart in a way I can't explain.. I was at some takeout place on St. Marks street, getting a falafal with a new mom friend, and I was telling her about a nanny I had met and liked, and that perhaps bringing home $57 a week after paying for said nanny was still better than staying home, and M was in his stroller and wearing his onesie with little turtles printed on it.. and he looked up and me, and I looked down at him, and for some reason he looked scared to me (was there a noise? did I make a look? perhaps I was just projecting) and I knew.. I knew.. I couldn't go just yet.

Suffice to say I guess I knew that all along. I guess my hammering photos onto office walls days before hitting the L&D floor was my way of pretending that I would be back. I guess my extending my maternity leave as long as possible was an attempt to fake that my heart was in returning to the grind. And it was and it is and its not and sometimes I am afraid that it never will be again..

I'm not sure why I am putting this out here, because there is no advice, no words of wisdom. Going to work is hard, staying home is hard, being away from your babies is hard and not getting a break is hard. There is just no right way. But I am thinking that instead of what I used to consider being super-woman, the ones that juggle impressive careers and a family of five and a house and two dogs.. that maybe every day we are being super-moms, whether we are in our little cave's in midtown or our little caves in Brooklyn (or DC).. whether we dress in dark work pants or dark yoga pants, we're doing it our way and it will change but there is no right.. Perhaps the balance is the exception and chaos is the rule.

good bye to you..

good bye $17 american eagle outfitter jeans.. first pair i bought post baby jeans with a functional zipper (anyone else still forgetting about that 'real' zipper 9+ months later? i keep leaving the house without that, ahem, done up.. can we learn nothing from maternity pants? faux fly bring it on).

strange.. i feel a bit sad to see them go.. and although mom smartly suggested i save them in case i need them again in the future, they're pretty beaten up, even too much for me to leave on the stoop for someone needing an extra pair of skinnies on the go..

thank you for everything, in-between jeans.

*side note: emma had suggested purchasing a pair of AE jeans when they were on mega-sale right after i had M. i thought it was slightly ridiculous considering their target market is half my age and the rise's require brazilians, but for the weeks months after a baby when you can't stand the sight of the skin-toned commerbund of your maternity pants, they can't be beat.

mama's day..

i wasn't expecting much for mothers day (but secretly hoped it would be a little better then this last, recent, birthday which was celebrated by myself and a vicious 24 hour stomach virus). i'm not sure what my thoughts are about the day, but it being my first, i washed my hair, put on my bright green pants and stuffed M in a 'mom' onesie i found in his drawer that is a full size too small, and let L take our picture.. i slept in - until a blissful 8:30 - made myself pancakes doused in maple syrup, took M to the park where he practiced standing and kissed him as many times as i could in one day. it wasn't perfect, and i felt both elated and, well, odd, when neighbors would say "happy mother's day!"as we walked by.. but it was good.. its good to be a mama to this guy..

happy belated mother's day to all you mama's out there.. moms of babes, of pups, of plants and of other things..

(notice that weeks later our shelves are still filled with boxes.. my one saving grace is that the only shelf lined with books is indeed color coordinated)

sleepy monday

so apparently, according to one my my favorite parenting blogs Ask Moxie, we are in the midst of one of the toughest sleep regressions. there's the 4 month, which i think we really didn't get until 5 months, and there is this.. i'm confident that nobody is really interested in this information, but for sanity's sake i'm putting it out there - last nights wake-ups were as follows: 10:11, 12:05, 2:15-3ish, 4 something, up at 5:42. i nursed M throughout because trying to soothe him was doing nothing but keeping all of us up, and because i understand in some hazy way that crawling, teething, pulling-up and babbling will keep a new little up all night.. perhaps at 3am my sympathy wanes, but somewhere in the afternoon while i watch his determined face, i weaken and understand, these are huge times for the peanut..
i really loved this quote, because it was exactly how i was (am) feeling this morning:

It seems like 9 months is just about when parents start to feel confident about things, and women start to feel like they may have some semblance of their bodies back (if by "back" you mean that you've noticed that you still have toes and that your limbs mostly work), and the babies are kind of happy and interactive and starting to move around. And then--bam!--your kid's suddenly not sleeping and it seems like it must be something you did and you feel incompetent and defeated. (Source: AskMoxie.org)

i remember an old colleague of mine telling me, as we passed by some seedy hotel, that his big fantasy was one day to book a hotel room, not tell his wife or anyone, and just sleep in it all day. at the time i found that rather depressing, but now i completely get it..

    (dream bed by Rough Linen)

for the home

some things i have been swooning over for hours.. days.. weeks and years..

etsy linen cover

land of nod table lamp

rough linen duvet cover

BDDW captains mirror

this pillow from thief and bandit

Being Nice

Ben and I haven't really slept in the last eight weeks. I recognize we may not really sleep for the next eighteen years. Sleep deprivation is a funny thing; after a while your brain acclimates to running on a half-empty tank, your friends and family learn to decode your slurred speech, and you begin to accept that nights (like most other things in your life) are no longer your own. But something else happens when you and your partner are not getting the rest you really need... You get a little mean. It took me a while to recognize that the snippy tones, the defensive replies, the way we both started taking just about everything extremely personally were all the result of our extreme exhaustion. Adding a baby to the mix is a hard transition. We're asked to sacrifice in ways that I have started to doubt any of us are truly prepared for, and in our (personal) parental evolution Ben and I seem to be struggling to make the time to care for ourselves, and maybe even cut each other the necessary slack. I don't think this issue will be resolved when Charlie learns to sleep through the night. I imagine this will become a constant in our lives; we're going to have to keep doing our best to remember that we're on each others side. Until we get the hang of this practice, I'm trying to remember an piece of advice I read a while back: when you're feeling frustrated with your partner try (before you say anything unkind) to remember something truly wonderful they did in the past. It's a really simple exercise, but I sort of think it does wonders. I like to remember when Ben drove through a snowstorm to spend Christmas day with all of us.

permanent camping

i've never been camping but L always wants go to, and sometimes i am tempted by the thought of sleeping out in the open, hearing the sounds of birds and frogs.. but, then i think about crazy people in the woods and a solid structure sounds much more appealing.. this 'permanent camping' house is my idea of a proper camping trip.. how cozy does that fire look?

have you ever been camping?

                                                             (via  iGNANT)

weekend!

the weekends seem to be coming a bit earlier these days.. since L is taking FMLA on fridays until the end of July, thursday has become friday.. and its glorious. the extra day means that i can do something on my own for a few hours but also get things done around the house without having it take up our entire time together. what are your plans for this weekend?

here are some 'goals' because if i say plans they're just not going to happen..

                                                   (from 101 Cookbooks)
i've been on a pancake binge even though m doesn't seem to like them (yet) sunday means im at the stove making myself some gluten free pancakes.. this week i plan on making some gluten-full ones, using this recipe. i justify this obsession over the fact that now i have a child and having the ability to make perfect pancakes is a good trick to have up my sleeve.

i just bought these ugly yet oh so comfy sneakers as a birthday gift to myself in hopes that i use them to.. gulp.. jog (one day, one day).. even if its just for skipping through the park, i need to put the little frog shoes on and attempt a break-in.

(this is the dream but not the reality) L moved his computer out of the nursery (the nursery that nobody sleeps in.. mm hmm..) so i'm on the hunt for a cheap wooden chest of drawers that will double as a changing station.. i love this dwell one, but $1080.00 is about $1000 out of our budget. i'm hoping to score a cheap but well-made wooden dresser and paint it white and add some fun knobs..

speaking of home improvement.. we just installed elfa shelves in our living room.. not the aesthetic i had dreamed of, but practical now that we have a crawler living with us. the stuff on here is just to test out the weight, the first night after L installed it we both slept with an eye open, waiting to hear a loud crash.. now that its been up for almost a week, i think its time we start unpacking and color-coordinating some books.. (top, our mess.. bottom via apartment therapy)

i just bought this book and am looking forward to reading it in bed on my ancient and ridiculously heavy iPad (can i-anythings be ancient?).. after all the hubbub about books like 'lean in' mama needs to read something positive..

for the next go-around

i took milo to sing-a-long at the dean street cafe this morning with a couple of mom friends and their wee ones. its amazing to see how different the babes are, the 10 month old is walking! while milo's friend hannah sat contently and milo got bored and started his high pitched wails until he found the mirror behind us (always the mirror.. if they had mirror tattoos i would be all over that..) and made it through to the last song, a 'rock' rendition of the itsy bitsy spider..

anywhoo.. this is all to say that afterwards my friend julia and i took the kiddos to the nearby park for some quick swing action.. apparently every parent and nanny from our sing-a-long had the same brilliant idea and swings were taken so we sat awkwardly in the middle of the playground chatting while trying to keep the littles entertained without licking the tarmac.. julia and i got onto the subject of how big they were getting, how crazy it is this first year.. and when do we plan on having the next little ones, should we be so lucky.. ugh what a loaded question, eh? when i think about me and you and you and me i think -- oh, right away! lets make m a best friend.. but there is the other side, i like that i can focus on milo now, that he has all of me. that when he does something new i am watching it, that he is first on my mind.. there are good sides to having that not be the case, sure, but im not sure that i want things to happen so quickly that i can't soak in this unique time with my one and only. and though i can't imagine loving another baby remotely close to how i love m.. i can't imagine it.. i also know that all moms feel that way and according to our, very loving and devoted mum "your love just grows" so i will trust in that..

so it got me thinking that i should make a list for the next go-around, of the things i would want to tell myself.. here goes:

-you will probably have nursing issues again, unless you have a champion sucker who doesn't mind that mama's boobies resemble mountains with a tick tack on top.. if thats the case, you can stop reading now, but if you are knee-deep in nipple shields, spoon feeding, sores, poor latches and tears; give that babe a bottle. you were so afraid of giving m a bottle at first but really - your commitment to breastfeeding is strong but you have to give yourself a break.. m was able to latch because he got bigger, he got it. keep trying and keep at it but dont spend your days crying over it. it will get good again.

-don't invite everyone you know to the hospital and/or the apartment the first two weeks. give yourself and the hubs and the babies some time to adjust and to recover together. don't feel the great need to just 'be yourself' a day after giving birth - its huge and you will never quite be yourself again. give your family some time to be together without dishes and deep conversation. breath it in.

-try not to spend all of your time on your phone while you are nursing/babe is sleeping on you.. thats not to say that its bad to read a novel during those marathon nursing sessions or to dull your mind from the fact that your limbs have fallen asleep due to the little ones positioning - but - there is something to be said about being in the present.

-ask for help. take help. dont be humble about it. you will give it back.

-trust in your body that it will get back to where it needs to be. don't feel bad that the water weight is making you look like the hulk.. go with it.. mu-mu it out and don't think twice.

-if you have decided to do a hospital birth and you are in your labor room and its hurting real bad.. get that epidural. stat.

i'm sure in the next few weeks i'll have more to add to this list, but i wanted to get it out while it was still lingering in my head..

**and don't feel bad when certain people tell you not to let the little sleep on you.. because one day they wont and you will ache for it.

the moments between only us

for the past couple of nights, M's nursing sessions have shortened dramatically. aside from the fact that this pretty much guarantees a plugged duct, it made me.. well.. SAD. this is our thing, our nightly ritual - bath, jammies, sleep sack, lullaby, nursing, rocking, bed. i'm not sure if its teething, developmental things, the fact that our co-sleeping means that he is nursing more in the middle of the night, or it may be the new lovey "nancy" that has distracted my boy from the boob. so tonight as i was rocking him, he was squirming around and i thought, oh, he just wants to be in his bed, he doesn't want to be rocked. it took me a while to figure that out and when i put him down he rolled onto his belly and wiggled his bum and prepared for sleep. and i stood above him, my sweet baby boy, in his little crib, and i watched him, and i didn't know what to do with myself because our nighttime routine is clearly not only for him, apparently i need it, too.

on monday M will be 9 months.. 9 months in, 9 months out.. amazing. solids are slowly taking over, new tastes and textures are more exciting then the same old milk. i hope to always be comfort to him, but now with the crawling, he's all about moving.. sometimes away from me.. usually away from me.. and i know we're in the midst of great changes - extraordinary changes, development, mil(o)stones.. but im realizing how much i love these quiet moments.. the dark room, the noise machine, M in my arms, the nursing that in the beginning was so hard, that has become so wonderful, who's end might be near, those moments.. oh those moments.. i will never forget a night of it. every time i question my decisions about staying home i think of our evenings together, of being in that room, brushing his hair back as he nurses, his little breaths between sips, humming a dylan or marley tune to him, nothing else mattering, just us.. only us..

shopping spreeeeeeeeee

oh after the beeday there are a few dollars to be spent (really, just a few).. my exciting purchase will be an elfa shelf for our living room, despite my best intention to stay a little more stylish at home, its practical and practical wins over anything else when you have a little crawler on your hands..
i also just ordered a few things from american apparel for Milo's summertime wardrobe.
and i just might have enough to buy myself a new shade of nail polish.. pedi's are out of the budget this season.. le sigh.

the finger family!

i ordered our little family a custom portrait on etsy. its in the mail now but the artist just sent me a sneak peek.. it looks nothing like any of us, and i begrudgingly had the cats painted in at the last minute.. but i love it.. i'm excited to hang it in Milo's nursery and i love the idea of getting a different piece of artwork every few years to document the changing (and perhaps growing!) family..

craving neutral

                                                                scarf. toms. hat. sunnies.

belly, must i cover you now?

i by no means have any sort of perfect body.. i'm not even going to go there and discuss the issues i have, because we all have something and i'm giving this body a break, i made a baby and therefore i'm going to have a little love for this body of mine, imperfect as it may be..

but the belly..

now that's one thing i always counted on. yes, i had to suck it in like most of us on planet earth, but the belly was one part of me that i could rely on. but now post-baby, its, shall we say, different. there is loose skin and stretch spots and sucking in doesn't do its magic any longer. im contemplating a one-piece for those rare occasions that anyone other than family + close friends see me in basically my knickers.. a few i'm eyeing

(clockwise from left) 1// 2 // 3

Charlie and I had so much fun having family in town... not to mention a set of wheels to whiz us around Washington D.C. We got to stroll through different neighborhoods, test restaurants with the stroller; Charlie frequented his first toy store, and I conquered breastfeeding in public (or survived it anyway). That old saying 'It takes a village,' feels particularly potent after each of these (too short) visits. Alone with my little dude, I am suddenly reminded of how daunting the simplest of tasks can feel when you're flying solo. Today, Charlie and I are working through these transition blues by lingering in our pajamas a little longer than usual, and I am trying to remember how brave I am capable of being. Here are a few snap shots from our weekend adventures- any interest in a trip down south(ish) soon?