Tessa is Five Months!

I am sitting up!
I weigh 14.1 pounds, and the doctors are now happy with my growth.
I roll all over the living room floor.
I am still living the quarantined life.
I tried daycare for the first time and only lasted four hours.  Day two went better.
I STILL don't sleep through the night.  Mom and Dad are going to buy stock in coffee.
I toss and turn and spin in circles all over my bed all night
I love Mom's Apple Watch, and I am learning how to work it better than she can.
I have lots of stories to tell.
I chew on all my toys, blankets, and hands.
I have the best giggle, according to Mom and Dad.
I am a Momma's girl, especially after 7pm.
I will start crawling the minute I decide where I want to go.

Raising an Empath

Yesterday was a rough day.  For many reasons.  And for no reason.

I kept watching the clock waiting until I could crawl into bed, let my armor down, allow the tears to come, and hide from everything.  That time when no one was depending on me to be a mom or a wife or a teacher.  I spent the last few hours of my day just going through the motions.  I finally threw in the towel a little early and handed a half-asleep Tessa to Casey, so I could shower and wash the day away.

As I got out of the shower, I heard Mila calling out.  It was well past 9 pm.  She should have been asleep an hour ago.  But she napped earlier in the day, so I was not all that surprised.  I dressed quickly so she wouldn't wake her sister.  I'm ready to be mad at her for wanting help putting her dolls' clothes back on or some other silly request.

I walked in and her expression changed my mood.  And my heart.

She tells me it was an awful day.  I swear this kid is an empath. I tell her some days are like that.  Even Mommy has awful days.

Yeah? she asked.

I tell her one thing that helps is taking deep breaths.  Then, I remember how much I love you, and Tessa, and your Daddy.  Am I saying this for me or for her?  By now, we both have tears in our eyes.

I crawled into bed with her.  Clearly, I was not going anywhere for a while. 

We snuggled in and talked about our plans because, thankfully, we finally had some.  We planned a movie night for the next day.  And daycare was finally opening up, so that was something to look forward to.  She would finally get to see her friends and teacher after two months.  We talked about all the random things a four-year-old brings up at bedtime.  She points to my neck and says, you have a nipple just like Daddy.  We had a quick lesson on the difference between moles and nipples. 

Then, she wanted a story.  Casey has been entertaining her with stories of our dating days -- well, the censored versions.  She specifically asked for another one.  I tell her about the time I fell in love with her dad.  It was the first time he grilled for me, just like he had that night.  I knew then I wanted to marry him and have two girls with him.  And now here I am, married to him, and he is an amazing dad to two girls. 

"Yeah," she says, "and because he has nipples."

A little humor and a lot of cuddles.  In a moment where I just wanted to hide, I was reminded of all that I have.  Apparently, being alone was not what I needed. 

Seeking that First Sip Feeling

Monday began the fourth week of quarantine.  And, at minimum, a month to go.

I needed a sense of normalcy.  I craved that semblance of my "before" life -- when I was carefree to pick up a Starbucks and run errands.

I decided either Sunday night or Monday morning -- the time between night and day blurs a bit with an infant, especially during quarantine where the days don't matter -- that I was in need of a Starbucks treat.

Starbucks has always been a treat.  On Friday mornings after a long week of teaching.  After sleepless nights with a newborn who is up every hour.  During conference week when exhaustion wears on every part of my being.  This simple upgrade to my morning coffee somehow rewards and empowers me to take on more.

When I get it in my mind that I want one, it's hard to convince myself otherwise.  And, let's be honest, that's true about most things I want.

I got up with the baby at 5 a.m. already planning my treat.  I learned a week or so ago that there was only one Starbucks open on the west side, which means longer travel time and longer lines (and no mobile ordering).  I knew all of this.  And I knew I had a 9 a.m. Zoom meeting.  I had it all mapped out in my head.

But, there is one variable that is unpredictable: my family.

Mila didn't wake until after 7:30 a.m., which means neither did Casey (if he gets up with Tessa in the night, I have no problem with him sleeping in).

Now, I should confess.  I am known for having definitive plans in my head, not sharing said plans with the people they impact (like my husband), and then being disappointed those plans didn't work.  I'm working on it.  Knowing this, I shared my intentions for a Starbucks rendevous with Casey when he woke up.  While I knew what this means, he didn't factor in all the things I do.  I think moms are only capable of that level of depth in planning, foreseeing all the factors it will take to accomplish a task.

By 8:20 a.m., I've got both girls downstairs in the middle of their morning routines, well, the Covid-19 version of their morning routines.   My anxiety is building as I watch the clock tick.  Time is shrinking for my coffee window.

At 8:30 a.m., I'm out the door in and in the car.

I know I don't have enough time.

BUT!  If the stars align absolutely perfectly, this will work.  I turn on a podcast a friend sent me of two amazing authors, Glennon Dolye and Brene Brown, and settle in.  I'm out of my house for the first time in days, but I can't enjoy it.  It's not a relaxing drive.  I lean forward in my seat thinking that will help the car go faster.  Every 30 seconds, I blink over at the clock doing the travel math: how long will it take to get home, how long will it take to get coffee,  how long the line can be and still wait for it.  As I near Starbucks, the cars are wrapped around the building.  I pull a U-turn and head home.

Immediately, I'm pissed.  At Casey, first, for not getting up early or around faster.  If only he would move at my speed, this would solve so many problems.  He takes his time and doesn't realize what else is going on.  Clearly, I was looking for someone else to blame.  (They say married couples have the same one or two fights for their entire marriage.  This is definitely one of ours.)

Then I stop and sit with that anger -- something Glennon Dolye mentioned in her latest book, Untamed.  As I sit with it, I realize it's not anger at all.  It's sadness.  When this hits me, I start tearing up.

Anger is far easier to deal with than sadness. 

The grief of social distancing and isolating washes over me.  It is just too much.  And being alone for the first time in weeks made me realize it.  I couldn't even deal with it all in that moment.  It is something I will return to again.

But, Tuesday was a new day.  And I had a new plan.

When Mila woke up, I put her in our bed with Tessa and Casey.  I left all three of them to snuggle in, watch shows, and wake up.

I head out the door with plenty of time to enjoy my podcast and savor that first sip feeling.  And I made it back with time to spare before my next 9 a.m. Zoom meeting.

Tessa is Four Months!

I am living the quarantine life, but for me, that really just means no daycare yet and extra Momma snuggles.
I can roll over front to back and back to front.
I can grab my piggy toes for happy baby pose.
I am enamored with my sister and fascinated by everything she does.
I visited a GI specialist to see why I'm such a peanut.
I am getting more calories with my bottles to try to gain some weight.
I have been nicknamed "stinkpot" by Grandma. 
I grab my toys from my play gym mat.
I chew on my hands and blankies.
I still don't sleep through the night, even though Mom and Dad beg me. 
I am very ticklish, especially on my back and under my arms.
I coo and talk to let you know exactly what is on my mind.
I want to stand all the time with my super strong leg muscles. 

Our Wish Come True

A year ago today, we learned of your arrival.

It was such a surprise that your dad texted me a picture of the pregnancy test later that day.  We spent the entire weekend trying to convince ourselves you were really there.  After two blood tests, confirming your growth, we held hope that our infertility journey was finally coming to a close.  Twenty-six months trying to complete our family.  And you are our perfect fit.

You are absolutely worth the wait, Tessa.

Two Weeks

A mother of an infant can tell you how much life changes in two weeks' time.  But, really two weeks isn't even long enough for a good European vacation.  However, these last two weeks have more events than two lifetimes need.  Here is how life has changed:

Two weeks ago, I was anxious to get back into the classroom.  I headed to school to collect pre-tests and reading surveys. I wanted data on the students I would finally be able to meet on March 23rd.  Now, that data sits on my kitchen table, not because I am procrastinating, but because I don’t know how -- or when -- to use this data I have.  

Two weeks ago, my nightmares revolved around being late for school.  My stress was getting out the door in time with two kids. Now, my nightmares are literal end-of-the-world dreams where I am fighting to save my family.  The tornado of softball-sized black bumblebees with dentured teeth still haunts me.  

Two weeks ago, I drank socially.  A glass or two of wine with friends, out to eat, or after the kids went to bed.  Now, the wine takes the edge off and calms my anxieties. It helps the constant uneasiness that is crawling under my skin always. 

Two weeks ago, I was trying to get back to meal planning.  After a Vegas vacation, we were looking forward to structure and routine.  Now, eating out at our favorite local restaurants seems like an act of service to support the struggling economy. 

Two weeks ago, my husband’s job prospects were looking up.  He worked hard to build himself up since he found an industry that matters to him.  Now, the economy has tanked. People are losing jobs left and right. Unemployment is skyrocketing.  

Two weeks ago, I was counting down the snuggles with my three-month-old daughter as my maternity leave came to an end.  Knowing those moments are limited. Now, there is a real chance I will enjoy those snuggles until August. Is this the only way a woman can get a long maternity leave in America?  A global pandemic? 

Two weeks ago, my biggest curriculum concern was getting students enough practice and feedback with reading and writing to improve and prepare them for what they encountered next.  Now, I just want them to get any reading and writing. 

Two weeks ago, I worried about a lack of money.  Now, I worry about a lack of available resources, like toilet paper, diapers, formula. 

Two weeks ago, I was cautiously concerned about germs, especially around my infant daughter.  Now, I am alarmed and alert about what we are touching and how often we are washing our hands.

Two weeks ago, my four-year-old was looking forward to introducing her sister to her friends at daycare.  Last night, she cried because she misses her daycare friends. 

Two weeks ago, my worries were about balancing the business of life with two kids as I returned to work.  Now, I worry about the life we will leave for these children after all of this is over. 

Yoga While Social Distancing

My time on my mat is sacred. I love escaping to the studio to have an hour all to myself. I laugh, stretch, relax, breathe, and feel renewed. When social distancing is recommended and gyms are closed, that’s no longer an option.

But! When the gym offers a Facebook live yoga session, I find a way to make it a family affair. We’ve got mats, iPads, and straps at home. Push the kitchen table away to create space, and we have our at-home studio. What could go wrong?  Here are the highlights:

Tessa watched us intently the entire time. I think she was judging us.

I made all my normal stretching noises.  Well, I thought they were normal. Casey cracks up.  Mila says, “Mom, what is it?” Casey replies, “Your mom just keeps screaming.”

At one point, Casey fell down and I laughed with tears. Just like at the studio.

Mila created her own poses.  As Bradie would say, “It’s your mat and your practice.”

Holding snacks with your toes during figure four position. 

Fake sleeping. 

Finally, savasana. With a four year old prop, apparently. 

But, I made it on my mat. And that counts. Namaste.