5.15.12 – You is beloved.

5.15.15 – Flashback Friday: Four Years (F)ago – Feel the (f)alliteration. Gorgeous date alert: Five, One-Five, One-Five.

I can hardly recall just having One Micah now so this helped jog my memory.

Enjoy your weekends!


Tuesday. It was going to be a rainy day all day so my nearly 18 month morsel and I skipped our morning constitutional, which usually consists of walking around our green courtyard, admiring the sky and trees, looking for small creatures, then my begging him to go back inside. This morning, I did remember to make sure I affirmed him with the mantra from “The Help,” along with my own additions: “You is kind. You is smart. You is important. You is worthy. You is wanted. You is a child of God. You is beloved.”

Micah didn’t give a crap about these affirmations that his silly mama was repeating and instead asked for some tv by handing me the remote with wide, hopeful eyes, imploring, “mah? mah? mah?” (his favorite word of the week – “MORE!”). “No, Micah, maybe later but no tv in the morning. Morning is story time!”…

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The Bachelorette – Emily’s Season

I was going to blog about this as I have yet to miss one season of this awful show but last night’s premiere was just so boring I decided to turn off my computer. Emily is a prettier version of Heather Graham, and Heather Graham is already pretty pretty, lookin’ like blonde anime. Emily’s daughter has grown a lot since the last time we’ve seen her and their pad is very nice and spacious. Emily’s forehead does not have ONE wrinkle and she looks like she has NEVER had bad breath. Ever. She is the type that guys want to protect and rescue. Like me (psyche!).

The cheesiness of this first episode can be summed up with this single soundbyte from one of her suitors (with whom she looks great, like a true Nicholas Sparks’ couple):

“I may have had a head injury but there is nothing wrong with my heart.” (sorry if I misquoted but you get the idea).

And of course, the classic line of this series, which will be repeated about 345 more times:
“I can’t believe I might meet my husband tonight.”

I may blog more about this if it’s ever worth keeping my computer on for. Stay tuned.

7.18.11 Exasperation Date

If beating myself up actually burned calories, I would be one skinny girl. So much has been swirling around within me, making for an exasperating week (or two)? I didn’t want to write about it at all, especially on a blog accessible to anyone, but I decided to do it, even to practice being able to say, “F*ck it,” and not care so damn much about others.

On July 1st, at seven months and one week old, Micah officially began to crawl after some weebly wobbly practice rounds that he had become quite militant about. Practicing his form and technique until he was ready for blast off. Quite a festive fellow, to ring in Independence Day with a crawl away from his lifeline (mama and her boobies). I think right around then is also when Mama started to feel the effects of raising a baby on her own. Not truly on her own like a single mama but without her family and longtime friends to stand in for her at times.

This is where the beating myself up comes in. I felt guilty to say it’s starting to get harder because I kept saying to myself and to others, “How can I complain when some folks are struggling to even get pregnant? I have a great, supportive husband. I don’t have twins, I only have one very calm baby to take care of, I know I have it good.” But it was still starting to get harder right around his First Crawl/Independence Day. Like I said, I was starting to feel the effects of not having relatives (or relative-like friends) to watch him regularly while I exhaled, picked my toes, read a novel, swam, remembered who my husband was before he became fellow taskmaster around our home. And just be ME, whoever the hell she was or is. Sure I get SOME pockets of time to myself but I crave more. Where I don’t have to explain to my hubby from the bathroom, “I’ll be out to feed him. What’s that noise? Are you mashing the peas or the carrots? Don’t think I went MIA. I’m just taking longer than I thought!”

One caveat. I currently cannot take more than four hours off during his wake hours (thankfully the boy is a naturally good sleeper). Micah started to reject the bottle of pumped milk when he wised up around four(?) months old, saying, “Why take this lifeless bottle when I can get back on those warm flesh pillows of mamas that I’ve been known to enjoy since the minute I was born?” So I just said, “Well, I’ve chosen to stay home so why not let him reject the bottle. I’m here so I don’t mind.” I still don’t mind for the most part and actually love breastfeeding because it is truly bonding, as he stares right into my eyes, sometimes spilling milk out of the corners of his mouth as he flashes me a smile mid-feed. During a full breastfeeding session, I don’t think I’ve ever been this content and this full of love. The only part I do mind is that it means that for the time being, I can’t take a whole day off, sending Micah on a Daddy and Me Day, or going on a Mommy and Daddy day or weekend. I just gotta take my chunks of time here and there.

Weekends have become family time. Birthday parties, groceries, park, buy buy baby. Still need ME time. And I hadn’t heeded this advice too much before because I was and am SO in love with my boy that even as I craved me time, each time I saw him, I would cave and want to hold him again. (Feeling my guilt creep in even now at the thought of sharing this because I DO have “plenty” of time, like talking to my friends on the phone while I walk around the neighborhood at night after Micah sleeps but I’m always feeling like I’m on a short leash that comes with being a mama. Or maybe I’m talking about how K and I rarely have made it a point to go out on our own).

Now the time to recharge and rebuild is overdue as K and I have been disconnected, I’m getting crankier, and I find myself envying mamas fortunate enough to say, “Oh, my mama is coming over to watch him while I….” and “The in-laws watched him while we…” Now is the time to ask the CT grandma to please visit so that K and I can have time to ourselves. Now is the time to ask some folks to come over for a few hours at night after Micah goes to bed EVEN IF I HATE to ask (hate inconveniencing and feeling like I owe favors). Now is the time to go out and NOT talk about how many ounces of solids on any given day and talk instead about stuff that used to make me tick.


Last week was K’s and my fourth wedding anniversary. 07.07.07 was a beautiful, meaningful day but already somewhat faded in my memories, or maybe just eclipsed by the birth of our 6-lb boy. Our anniversary was the first time we left him in the care of someone other than CT gramma or CA gramma. Just as we had predicted, our friends didn’t even have to touch him, or even SEE him, as he slept soundly in the other room with the door closed.

We went to our friend’s daughter’s first birthday at their kiddie pool. First time at the “pool” for our 7+ month MLK.

First time at Fairway Market for both mama and Micah. Huge aisles, practically as many employees as customers, and they even have JACKETS you can borrow to walk around in the COLD section! Like a funktified Whole Foods.

And Micah, don’t worry. I’ve noted other bigger Firsts in other sources. (like July 1st, when you started crawling at 7 months and 1 week).


Happy Fourth of July! Micah seems to see fireworks anywhere there is a ceiling or a ceiling in the form of any blanket-type thang falling down on him. A few short clips from this holiday weekend – squeals of delight:

Independence Week 2011

In honor of Fourth of July, Mr. Micah has been flexing his independence muscles this week. After turning seven months, he is SO over being a baby, and is diligently, almost obsessively, practicing his power crawl. I hope he is not a perfectionist already. I wish he would rest and cuddle with me but he keeps practicing the crawl as if Kim Jong Il is making him do a thousand sets…or else. He thinks being strapped into anything is SO six-month old and can’t believe mama would still belt him into the stroller or the highchair when he is grown! He has protested the stroller heartily with big tears and dramatic screams but usually acts like he ain’t never been upset once we start strolling and he crinkles his little peacock toy friend, with his signature serious face. The highchair has been worse though. He screams so much he can’t even eat sometimes. My naturally good eater going through a brief phase, hopefully. Today, I even resorted to feeding him with a Micah-head tucked under my left armpit, on my lap, his right arm around me, because I didn’t want him to skip meals or just have breastmilk.

A couple days ago, I was washing dishes with my back turned to him. My boy was seated in his blue Bumbo seat, with his juicy thighs crammed into the leg spaces (how I dread the day he has thinned out and his legs fit easily). I would turn around sometimes to reassure him that mama is still there, since he could only see my back. Something about his crooked smile and confident gaze my way played a trick on my eyes and for a moment on that ordinary afternoon, I caught a glimpse of college-aged Micah surprising 50-something year-old mama while she washed the dishes. He would come in with that indescribable smile that makes me excited for each new day, the smile he doesn’t dole out to just anyone. He’d sneak up on oblivious, daydreaming mama doing the dishes and say, “Umma! Surprise! I came home to see you! You happy to see me or what?” He might bring some laundry to do, ask me for some food, ask where his pops is. He’d give me a big bear hug that I’d hold onto for an extra beat and in that moment, somewhere out there, I would flash back to this moment and see my seven-month old boy all over again.

Father’s Day 6.19.2011

bright sunny day started off with some church. then hopped on the 7 train to citifield for k’s first father’s day (not counting in utero micah). pretty good seats (promenade club) so that we can get into acela club restaurant for all-you-can-eat “marketplace” appetizers then yummy entrees in even better seats within the restaurant. micah, thank you for making yo daddy a daddy.