Nostalgia, part 2: My mom is awesome

For many reasons I don't have time to detail right now. But since we're talking about childbirth, I have to give a shout out to my mom. Now, I knew moms were supposed to help when a baby's born. At my grandma's funeral when I was 6 months pregnant, my mom talked about the things my grandma did for my mom each time she had a baby. So I had an idea of the gravy train I'd soon be riding.

My mom came in the day we got home from the hospital; she claims it was on Alaska airlines, but I still picture it as being a white stallion. We were tired and didn't have much in the way of groceries, so she and Dave walked around the corner to Quizno's and brought home dinner. As bedtime approached, she had me nurse Mabes and go right to sleep. Mom's orders. She took care of the diaper changes, burping, rocking, etc. During the night, she'd wake me every 3 hours to nurse, then I'd go back to sleep while she dealt with Mabes' day/night confusion. Every night for a week. In the morning, she'd handle the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, etc., and I just had to enjoy it and nap when Mabes did. I felt bad about the lack of sleep my mom was getting, since I can function better than my mom and sister can with little sleep. She just brushed it off and said she needed to take advantage of every minute with her new granddaughter. When Mabes would have a particularly rough night, my mom wouldn't tell me. She'd just smile when I asked how the night was and respond, "Well, we got to know each other a little better."

I'm realizing how rare this is. We were talking to one couple with a son 4 months older than Mabes, and I mentioned that Mabes started sleeping better as soon as my mom left, and how I felt bad for my mom. The husband's jaw dropped and said, "Wow, your mom took some of the night shifts?" Um, yeah...she took all of them... Hormone's weren't the only reason I was a sobbing mess when she left.

So despite calling her insane in my last post, I really do have nothing but respect, admiration, and love for my Moom. Yay, Moomy!

I hate the word "nostalgia"

Really, doesn't it sound like blocked sinuses or something? Nonetheless, I've been rather nostalgic lately about babies. Pretty much everyone I know is pregnant or just had a baby, except me. I'd like to go ahead and make that clear right now so no one's expecting a fun announcement on Christmas, like we got to do 3 years ago. So no pregnancy announcements, at least from me. Maybe Louie's pregnant.

But I was just reading my cousin's blog (sorry, no links--not that fancy yet), she's pregnant with her first, and at that "holy crap there are only two ways for this baby to come out and neither sounds fun" stage. And then our good friends here just had a "little" baby girl. The mom had wanted a drug-free hypnobirth, but after 40 hours of labor she had to have a c-section because the 10 pound 7 ounce baby just wasn't budging. Yowzuhs.

In Lisa's blog, she writes about the respect she has for anyone who has given birth. I like her idea of discounts at movie theaters. But honestly, when I was in labor, respect was all gone. I was angry--angry at all the women before me that talked about how wonderful it was. Idiots. I began to seriously question the sanity of any woman that had had more than 1. I mean, the first one is understandable. You don't know any better, and it *sounds* like a good idea. You get to eat whatever you want for 9 months, your coworkers let you have all the fans, you get to go the the doctor a lot (I like the doctor's office), and did I mention eating for 10? And then you go through a day or so of pain, big deal, I've had both my jaws broken, and then you have a baby.

Not so simple. After my water broke, I just laid there staring at the ceiling tiles wondering why a woman that had seemed so smart and put together did this 6 freaking times. I had had so much respect for my mom, for raising us as well as she did/does, only to realize that she must have been certifiably insane--that was the only explanation. I felt so betrayed.

But then you have your baby. And you know the cliche about forgetting it all? Well, that's a load of crap too. And once you become a mom, you just have to deal with all sorts of pain, whether it's figuring out breastfeeding or dealing with a 2 year old having yet another sleep regression. While you may not forget the pain you were going through when you signed the consent form for the epidural (though I later realized that pain was due to being in transition--going from 4 cm to 10 cm in just over an hour is not pleasant!), it does become a price worth paying for a baby. Sleep deprivation and all. So good luck, Lisa, and all other expectant moms. Labor sucks, but the day Mabes was born was one of the best days of my life.*


Totally different subject: I should probably listen to kiddie music in the car, but I don't. Blame the article I read in Parenting that said that any kind of music was beneficial for kids and helps them to learn about rhythm. She's a big fan of Kanye (something about the beat of Golddigger calmed her down when she was a newborn), though her current favorites are Timbaland's "Apologize" and I'm embarrassed to admit Flo Rida's "Low." Her very favorite is Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly." Whenever it comes on the radio (or at the grocery store) Mabes raises her eyebrow's and says, "Mommy! Listen! I hear it!...Yeah, I hear it! I lika dis song!" After she said that today in the car, I asked her if it was her favorite song. She responded that it was the "Best ever song."

But she's learning Christmas songs. Friday night, we were serenaded on the drive back from Costco by Mabes singing "Jingle Bells." Her version consists of simply singing "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle bells..." over and over again. I think she threw in a "jingle all the way" once, but other than that, it was just "jingle bells." For 20 minutes.

*I realize that Em's birthday should be the absolute best day of my life, but it's really close between that and my parents' 30th anniversary. While Mabes' birth was life-changing and certainly the most amazing experience of my life, my parents' anniversary was just more fun. I mean, my whole family on a private chartered boat sailing along the NaPali coast of Kauai vs. being a hot sweaty mess pushing an almost 10 pound baby out. Both great days, but for different reasons.

Tell us how you really feel...

Mabes loves Santa. Every time she sees a Santa she gets so excited, and Saturday morning at the ward breakfast was no different. But by the time we got to the front of the line, she wasn't too happy and wouldn't even fake a smile--I think I like this better, though.

We then went to the library, where Santa was also visiting and they had lots of craft and activity tables. Home for a nap, then we headed to the outlet mall for Christmas shopping and the obligatory carousel ride. Stopped at Chick-fil-A ("chick-a-lay") for dinner and then came home. In Em's words, the "best ever day."

Important News

Cadbury has finally realized they don't have to limit their US marketing efforts to Easter. Yay! I mean, you can buy Cadbury eggs from vending machines in London tube stops year-round, for crying out loud, but we have to wait for Easter like a bunch of chumps. But no more. They have both Cadbury egg ornaments and the equivalent of Cadbury mini-eggs in Christmas colors. And they're on sale at Target this week, 2 for $4.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Ghost of Christmas Past

Don't tell Mabes, but my mom is getting her a Little People House for Christmas. I'm so excited. So I pulled out my photo album and realized that I was the same age when I got my Little People House, back when the people were smaller. It's still a cute house that Mabes plays with at Grandma's, and she's going to be so excited to get her own.







And as long as I had my scrapbook out, I decided to add these pictures. Note the awesome hair, scrunch socks, and Keds.


















Ah, the Christmas Duet. Note our stylin' bangs and matching glasses. Despite the torture of these duets each year, we're still great friends. Many of our practice sessions ended with one of us shoving the other one off the piano bench--I, being the younger/smaller of the two, was more often the shovee than the shover. It was like throwing two cats in a pillow case. But if you listened closely, among the clawing and screeching, you may have been able to make out the tune of "Silent Night."