mom

The craziest, most serendipitous thing happened:

My souster (bestest friend, soul+sister=souster) works in a photo lab, and she called me to tell me she and our friend were printing a set of snapshots, and the women in the photos really reminded them of the YaYas (my mom's girlfriends.) They looked closer, and realized they were the YaYas and my mom was in some of the pictures. I asked her if there was any ethical way to get me a set of the photos, and they'd already contacted the woman and told her who I was and gotten permission to give me a set.

It's so crazy. Mom hated being photographed, even though she was so gorgeous, so I don't have a lot of photos. These are at least seven years old, so it's just crazy this lady happened to find them and decide to print them. Then, she took them to souster's lab, which is unlikely because they usually do high end processing for professionals and I doubt they get too many snapshots like that.

It's freakin' awesome. I can't wait to post some photos.

-------------------------------

I've been dreaming about Mom again, and they are disturbing lucid dreams where she's alive and I know when I wake up she'll be dead. Also she doesn't know she is dead, and if I mess up and let it slip she'll be gone. It's so weird. I always have to ask her why she's not dead or why she doesn't remember that she is or was sick, and there's a horrifyying scared look on her face. It's so vivid. I guess my own motherhood's bringing things up again- I used to dream this constantly.

Or it's in the stars, because a bunch of people are dealing with this. Thordora at Spin Me I Pulsate has a beautiful heart-wrenching post about her grief today. And when I talked to souster the other day, she was telling me that she and her eldest son have been missing her Dad a lot. He died the year after my mom did. The strange thing is that her little guy was just a year old when his grandpa died. He keeps talking about Grandpa like he knew him, in a sends-chills-down-your-spine, psychic and beautiful way. That kid is so amazing and cool. He's named after my mom, because souster got pregnant within weeks or so of mom's death. That was such a beautiful gift to me that she named him for her. It's a good reminder of how, in the big picture, birth and death are perfect mirrors and there's such beauty in the light and dark.

The macrocosm of death is easy to revere and understand. It's when one small, specific life is gone from you that the devastation happens. Someone who's echo keeps making patterns in your life long after they've gone.

new layout... so exhausted!

My adventures in designing have worn me out today. I have plenty of client work to do, including the exciting layout for the urban wear website. (Let me just say how ecstatic I am to be working with a hip awesome client, because the last website and logo I did was for someone with very, very different taste than mine.) But, I haven't taken time to play with my precious, beloved blog in so long, so I messed around with PsychoKinesis template generator (because I barely know html, much less CSS or whatever the fuck widgets are) and finally came up with brilliance incarnate. Then it wouldn't work, so another hour later I realized I have to revert to the old blogger template and that seems to have worked.

There are issues that need ironing out, like my having to manually put in my labels links, but I seriously need to get to work Four more hours of Mollylessness (OK, so that's not my best invented word ever...) and oh Goddess I haven't pumped since she nursed at noon. Gonna 'splode.

A note: The Boue can crawl, and she is eight months. I'll do a moonday graphic later, and since this is MY universe I'm making the executive decision to change to normal Gregorian dates rather than lunar, regardless of my lunar dating rocks rant from a while back. So moondays will not always be Mondays, and I'm already late anyway.

And now I pump, and rest, and then jump headfirst back into Fireworks, the best program in the world.

snow, a party, milk & cookies

Snow pretty.

We may get up to 4 inches, which is unheard of lately. When I was a kid, West Virginia had real winters with the sledding and the long undies and the cocoa and the school closings. Now we rarely have actual coverage. I hear the phrase “global warming” daily, which is good as far as awareness-raising. I am not, as I’ve previously whined, a fan of winter, but I’m only opposed to actually living in it myself. I think a good four-season climate is a lovely idea, and that people should be allowed to experience a nice Appalachian winter so they can sit by a fire writing me postcards in Savannah or Key West or something.

Actually, snow is lovely, and I hope we get a good thick blanket of pure white beauty and that the schools, and therefore the clinic, are closed tomorrow.
Yesterday was a fun Mommy-networking day. We went to a birthday party and I schmoozed with another nursing mama. We discovered that nursing in public is easier in numbers, and that after we proudly dropped bra, neither of our daughters would nurse due to the extreme excitement of Dora balloons, juice, and toddlers running amok. I went fishing in Molly’s mouth for a gooey gummed-up piece of party hat I didn’t notice she’d been eating, and avoided her choking to death, which is always nice. I talked to a mom of four-month old twins- her toddler was the birthday girl- who is nearly losing her mind (understandably) and I convinced her to let me help her out with some babysitting or something sometime. Both nursing moms (those twins have never had formula and their mom is so proud) I talked to are having supply problems, so I’m baking a big batch of magic milk-enhancing cookies*. It’s my first attempt at this recipe, so we’ll call it an experiment and hope it fares better than the banana oatmeal bread I ruined this week.

A la Noel at Breastfeedingisnormal.org Their site's down for maintenence but they have a mailing list subscribe button.

blog for choice

I'm late, but:



Why?

Because it never occured to me to be anything but pro-choice. As I matured into a sexual creature as a girl, it just became a passion that this new world of sex would be my own to explore freely and hungrily and curiously. The responsibility inherent in this exploration was a given, and this beautiful world of new textures, tastes, smells, sights, and sounds was about beauty, and GodGoddess and love, and wasn't about motherhood.

Because the most rewarding job I ever had was at a women's health clinic, and the women I met there changed me, and enriched my understanding of the unending complexity that is the life and body and soul of a woman. Because every woman I met who needed to end a pregnancy had
her own reasons, and her own particular bravery about her choice. Because the girls I met who needed many more years of childhood kept me from sleep nights on end and it made me feel like the most important thing I could be doing, ever, was to be a calm and gentle voice on the telephone when they called, or a supportive smile when we met.

Because every woman who bears a child should be allowed to do so as purposefully, with as much joy and excitement and anticipation as I did.

Because every being conceived deserves respect and a conscious and careful consideration of the best choices for that potential life.

Because I am a woman and I demand absolute, informed power where my body is concerned. I will make love or not, conceive or not, according to my own purpose. I will decide what kind of medical care I need, and determine when I do and do not need medical care.

Because the prevaling cultural attitude that doctors and legislators can make a better decision than I can about when to end a pregnancy and how to bring one to fruition is a lie that hurts all human beings.

moonday redux

I give up; I can't keep track of weeks anymore, so I'm just going to post by moon phases now...hehe. She was born 2 days after New Moon, so that's gonna be moon day. I'm a silly mom. I have so much fun with these little doodles.

Molly @ eight months: Learned to crawl, pulls to standing very well. Babbles constantly, waves Hi and Bye consistently. Lives for Peek-A-Boo.

a guilt-releasing resolution

I resolve to parent intuitively and cooperatively with my husband and to refrain from pressuring myself by imagining that Dr. Sears and the entire AP community are keeping a scorecard somewhere that looks like this:

Hospital Birth- SIN!
Breastfeeding- Good!
Solids after 6 months- Good!
Bites of known allergens from adult plates - SIN!
Juice with water in the sippy- SIN!
Disposable Diapers- SIN!
Homemade Babyfood- Good!
Wanting Baby Out of Bed, sometimes- SIN!
Deciding to put baby in crib as deferment to husband's desire, even though I'm only 85% wanting to give up cosleeping, thus making my marriage and my sexuality a priority again- SIN!
Planning on Extended Nursing- Good!
Own and Use (pretty often)- Swing, Walker, Exersaucer- SIN!
Prefer Sling to stroller when out- Good!
Forget to Read to Baby for days- SIN!
Talk to Baby constantly thus Driving those around me crazy- Good!
Have Given Up and allow Baby to be in room with TV on- SIN!

Because there is no scorecard, and my Boue is healthy and happy and I am making good choices for my family. Mommyguilt is the enemy and I hereby release it.

I have to do something about my stress level, and this is an excellent place to start. I need to reconnect with Shane so badly. We are both so tense about our lives right now and so depressed that we don't see any way to get out of our money slump that we are really edgy with each other. We need to be a comfort to one another and not let this put space between us.

I'm feeling wiggy again about using our real names in this blog. Shane seems uncomfortable with it, so I may change names and retroactively edit entries. I dunno. Not revealing anything distressing here, just think sometimes being non-anonymous inhibits my honesty. Maybe I need to return to my paper journal and vent my intimate thoughts.

Because, really, how many of you are as excited as I am that my period returned and now I will be ovulating and having wild sex kitten thoughts again?

lactivism

I love that word so much... so cute. So, your mission, if ya like:

Important! Breastfeeding legislation is coming up in this next session of the US House of Representatives, please help! From Florence Rotondo and the New Jersey Breastfeeding Task Force New Jersey Breast Feeding Task Force.Rep. Carolyn Maloney is going to reintroduce the Breastfeeding Promotion Act this coming session.The Breastfeeding Promotion Act would: amend the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to protect breastfeeding by new mothers; provide tax incentives for businesses that establish private lactation areas in the workplace; provide for a performance standard for breast pumps; and provide families with a tax deduction for breastfeeding equipment.

GET INVOLVED: Let the incoming Speaker of the House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi become very aware that the Breastfeeding Promotion Act is important and that we desire and expect her support in January.* Go to a card store and purchase (or make a homemade) card that is a "Congratulations on the New Grand-baby" card. The Speaker and the press have made much of the fact that she is a grandmother first and that she was awaiting grand-baby number 6 right around Election Day. The baby is a boy named Paul.* Write in the card:1) all babies have the Right to Breastfeed anywhere that the mother has the right to be.2) their mothers' need policies in the law that support the government's Breastfeeding Awareness Campaign to educate employers and workers about mothers' rights.3) ask her to throw the full weight of her position behind getting the Breastfeeding Promotion Act PASSED this coming session.* Get all your friends to sign your card before you mail it to Speaker Pelosi. Or buy/make several cards and get them addressed/stamped and ready to go and collect signatures from supportive friends who you know have good intentions, but little time, and mail them out with your own.* And lastly, *send this email to every mother, friend, listserv, breastfeeding support group and parenting site you know so that others can also send a card*. The idea is to get hundreds if not thousands of signatures/cards sent to Nancy Pelosi's office - right now - so that, by the time the Breastfeeding Promotion Act is reintroduced in January, she and her staff will have it on their radar.

The address to mail a card to Speaker Nancy Pelosi is:
* Representative Nancy Pelosi2371 Rayburn HOBWashington, DC 20515

And in Molly news, 4 1/2 hours of solid sleep. Belly full of fatty yummy avacado maybe helped? I decided to feed her some dinner at 9:00 p.m. Perhaps that was a good plan.

oh, shiraz be praised!

OK, I promised myself I wouldn't waste any of this evening blogging. Hey- if a girl can't lie to herself, who can she lie to? (Read: "To whom can she lie?" Whatever. My mission is to relax, so that must include prepositional sins.)

Molly's playing with race cars at Papaw's & Mamaw's, and will be snuggly co-sleeping with them tonight, a full half-mile from the nummins. Me, I'll be nursing a bottle of wine (and, intermittently, a pump) and catching up on design work. Then, I’ll crawl into bed with my husband, and sleep curled up with him and some good thick cloth nursing pads until morning.

Day’s been good. Dropped the Mollybird off at the grandies’, went to a very brief meeting with a very cool new web design client. Worked at the clinic a few hours on a mailing for a fundraiser, then went to nurse Molly and visit. The in-laws fed me, bless them. Came home, pumped, for the baby’s belly was full of peas & squash. (Also they gave her a taste of strawberry, but observe how I’m not wigging- the mission statement, remember- even though the yummy berries are a notorious allergen. She had no reaction and apparently liked it, so whatever.) Then I opened my bottle of Shiraz, actually remembering to dribble a few drops on the earth (OK, a houseplant = lazy pagan) for Dionysos.

So… this is me, having a break. I counted nursies last night? Five times between bedtime and waking, six if you count her breakfast nummins. Can you say reverse cycle? I don’t know if it counts as reverse cycling, since each session’s like 3-4 minutes. Also, I betcha $5 she’ll only wake twice for Mamaw & Papaw. I am a pacifier. It’s OK, but I’m glad I have such great in-laws to ship her off to for a night.

Jeez, Papaw, it’s not necessary to call me to tell me the Boue’s having a nap. ‘Specially since you just called 10 minutes ago to make sure I wasn’t missing a cool program on TV.

No, that's not my wine photo. Check out the awesome stock-photo postin' peeps @ stockexchange.

stay-home envy

I had a whole blog entry in my head Saturday. Even had a title: Stay-at-Home-Mom for a day. I spent all day with just me and Molly at home, with no car. It was wonderful, frustrating, exhausting. My imaginary blog entry detailed our day- lots of nummins marathons, eating lots of bathing in pureed peas, then a real bath with soap and splashies. There was the newly apparent Extreme Separation Anxiety which required that she be physically touching me 80% of the time, but oh, no, not in a sling- too restrictive. The other 20% of the day she relented a little and played in her high-chair or the floor but I had to remain in the direct line of sight OR ELSE.

Despite my best intentions, a couple of things prevented me from actually blogging. The first, of course, was the insane tiny creature, but even she finally went to sleep for the night, after adventures in snotty-nosed nursing. (Nothing de-sexualizes a breast like seeing a trail of baby snot attaching it to a sickish cranky baby's nose. Not that I care if the boobs aren't sexy. The libido's still elusive.)

The second was the arrival of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 2 on DVD. So after the munchkin conked out in her swing, I vegged out with some fun witty carnage.

This afternoon I logged onto Bloglines, and I saw Coffee Betsy has had some working mom angst courtesy of a judgemental, self-righteous bitch. (See, I can say that because I wasn't involved.) It came at an opportune time, as I'd just dried up my tear-sniffles after calling home to hear Shane sounding very impatient with Molly. I had a revisitation of my loathing of being a worker bee when I want to be a Properly Attached 'Round the Clock Baby on Hip Mother. I love the clinic, I love my coworkers, I love the kids we serve, but I wish I could love them a few times a week as a volunteer.

I also wish I could bottle my zen-mama-patience and leave some with Shane. (He also wishes I could lend him the boobies.) He's a very, very good Dad, but his patience is a more fragile thing than mine. I'd rather Molly not be around a cranky irritable parent, because it just adds to her crankiness I think...but it's wonderful she's with her Dad.

Some secret part of me is happy that I'm more patient with her because I feel like a superhero. It's egocentric and awful, as well as sexist, but I feel like her mama should be the most amazing person ever in her eyes, and Shane a very, very close second. It's terrible to admit that- how pathetic to crave being needed by them both so much. Maybe leftovers of jealousy from her Elektra phase. It seems to be over now, that. She loves us both again:)

sciatica & baby elektra

I'm down, physically and emotionally. My back's out and I've been lying around for two days. Shane's been wonderful, caring for the baby and me. Today he had to go to work, though, so his parents have her. They brought her to me a little while ago to nurse but she wasn't very interested. I miss her and feel weird about not being able to lift and carry her around, even though I know it's no indication of my mothering ability or anything. It's been a vulnerable week emotionally anyway, since Molly started to show a very insistent preference for Shane over me except for feedings and sleeping. It's so childish and ridiculous to be jealous, but of course I am. I'm sure all first time parents go through that- Shane used to annoy me being jealous of the nursing bond, but now that she's really smitten with her Daddy I understand how he felt. I'm so used to being her whole world. Well, at least when Papaw wasn't around. She's always loved him so much. He's fallen in her esteem too, and actually she prefers her Mamaw to everyone- Shane included. We went to pick her up from their house after work the other day and she cried when either one of us held her.

The loss of the mommy-obsession re-opened my working mom sadness. I had it in my head that I don't get to spend much time with her. That's an exaggeration I'm sure. I have her in my arms or at my side all evening and all night long, and then nearly constantly on weekends. It's just annoying and melancholy to "lose" her a little.

***

Mom & Dad E left me "Lady in the Water" to watch on DVD when they took Molly. It's so beautiful. I'm a total sucker for a fairy tale, and I love M. Night Shyamalan. How cool is it to be named Night? Or better yet, Story, the heroine of the movie. What a beautiful name.

***

I dreamt Molly had a tiny twin sister they had found in my womb at my six week checkup. She fit in the palm of my hand. She was sickly and I grew a tiny nipple to nurse her with, but she wouldn't grow. I told Shane we needed to name her and he told me we shouldn't get attached because she probably would die. I wanted to name her Suzy anyway. There was a beautiful huge angel fish in the dream too that flopped on top of an aquarium and had to be put back in the water. That's no doubt from staring at a toy aquarium nightlight with Molly as I nursed her to sleep. We also had an ocean CD playing so the nursery was wonderfully tranquil.

saints & such

Shane'sa right- I do research too much. Right now I'm filled with crankiness at Saint Nicholas. I was researching to origins of a certain innocuous Christmas symbol, trying to form a good plan for explaining him to a young and curious Mollybird in years to come. I was hoping for some ways to align him with Solstice as well as Christmas, figuring he has nada to do with a Virgin Mama and a manger full of baby Holy Cuteness so it might be easy. I'll probably have more luck with Yule symbols and such. At any rate, I got stuck on this very informative site about the saint.

Turns out, when he was the Bishop of Myra, Nicholas attacked a temple of Artemis and crushed it to bits. Since She is second only to The Ever-Compelling and Mysterious, Dark, Yummy One Persephone in my esteem, I am sad and pouty right now. Not surprised, as many saints are lauded for such, but I'm bummed.

I'm having a religious reality check lately. Last night Mamaw & Papaw proudly showed me Molly's newest books- pop-ups about Joseph's coat, Noah's ark, and one called Jesus and the 12 Dudes Who Did. I'm very fine with them exposing Molly to their beliefs, but I'm realizing that if I don't get more involved in my church and circle, she's going to get the majority of her religious teachings from them. That's just not going to happen. It's an uncomfortable situation family-wise with Shane disdaining all organized religion, even when it's as poorly organized as my pagan friends can be...haha. So I feel a little like I'm alone in her religious/spiritual upbringing and it seems like I want to indoctrinate her. It's not that I'll be angry or upset if she would choose to enter the LDS or any other church, I just want her to have a broad education. If I were a Christian, I wouldn't feel like I was pushy if I insisted she go to my church, so why do I feel it's strange to want her to attend circle and learn about Wicca? I'm afraid UU can be a little more intellectual a path than spiritual, and I know adults who left their childhood UU faith because of this. I want her so much to follow the UU Principles and to learn the beautiful lessons of service and compassion that the congregation teaches, but I specifically want her to know about Earth traditions.

Is it confusing to a kid that we can be UU and Wiccan? Do I even classify myself as Wiccan really anymore? I don't know. I'm thinking this over too much. I'm sure I'll inuitively learn as we go what to share with her. It's just weird... religion hasn't been a terribly important part of my life (though spirituality of course is ever-present) for a while. I'm sure many new parents find themselves reassessing their devotion. The cool thing is, many of the families at the UU congregation are dealing with similar quandaries. I need to take my lazy ass to church more often. We even have a RE (religious education) class called Parents as Resident Theologians. So, I'm sure they're addressing many of my worries. Just need to get more involved.

End rant. Have a very Happy Solstice (technically this evening, but I don't know if this means today or tomorrow is the shortest day, but I'm thinking tonight's the longest night, so we'll light our special virgin holly-shaped gold candles and say prayers this evening.) Tomorrow we're baking baker's clay ornaments of suns & stars for keepsakes. Molly won't remember her first Yule but I will, and it's a good start to new traditions- I wasn't raised UU or pagan, probably obviously.

holiday meme

Holiday fun from Crunchy on the Inside:

So…..
Real or fake (sorry, artificial)? Fake. Real ones are beautiful, though. I hear the replantable ones don't usually live, so I'm staying with my fakey.
Religious or secular? Vaguely religious, mostly just about family and giving
Santa or not? Yes, Santa, who will have a slight Solstice-Fairy makeover in years to come
Christmas or Hanukkah (or Kwanzaa or Solstice or…..)? Winter Solstice and Christmas
Eggnog or Hot Chocolate? Custard, the drinkable kind, old family recipe
Turkey or Ham (or Tofurkey)? Cookies, please, just lots of cookies.
Cash or Credit? Only cash allowed for Christmas- no debt.
Travel or stay home? Home
Mall or online? Thrift, closeout stores, or handmade
Extended family or nuclear? extended
Star or angel? sunburst usually, for solstice, or a snowflake this year
Plastic/battery operated or wooden hand painted? Prefer the latter
White lights or coloured? White
Traditional music or contemporary? A mix I guess
‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ or ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ A Christmas Story- Shane's obsessed. I keep wanting to get him a famous leg lamp but then there would be a leg lamp in the house. Erg.
Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning? Christmas Eve. We always did the family visit on the Eve, although in the coming years I'm sure seeing Molly's face Christmas morning will trump all else.
Original Grinch or Jim Carrey? Original!
Red or Green? Green
Candy Cane or Gingerbread? Gingerbread
Re-gift or Goodwill (or Ebay)? Local thrift store or Goodwill
White Christmas or Green? White, although if someday that referred to a sandy Carribean beach rather than snow that would be fine:)
‘Jingle Bells’ or “Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer” Rudolph, with the silly extra lyrics
Ready or not? Not

why i am not cool, but molly is

Squee! Rick Lee, a well-known local commercial photographer with the coolest blog, posted a snap of the Mollybird. I'm ecstatic because I am a dorky mom.

I have no hope of ever being cool, Shane says, because I am a gothy hippy chick (according to my husband, a nosering and excessive number of black tees qualifies me as goth) who uses lame wannabe gangsta slang interspersed with my "groovy"'s. Also, because the average age of new moms in my area is 5-10 years younger than me, I am going to be the weird gray streaked bag-lady-looking mom at the PTA crying because the cafeteria doesn't serve organic tofu in a region where we pretty much deep fry everything.

I am over being cool most days, and revel in my mellow at-home-in-my-own-skin-ness. Some days, though, I wake up and really want a tattoo sleeve and purple hair. Right now I'd settle for any neat haircut. I'm a mop right now. I've left a plea for help with my favorite hair goddess, but she's busy and I may have to suffer through the holidays.

remembering colleen

Colleen was a regular at my old job where I sold coffee and "gently used" clothing for transitional housing run by the YWCA. She moved here from California and didn't know many people. She'd had a terrible break-up with a long-time partner, and I don't think she knew a lot of people in the area. She'd tease me about being a breeder, but then she brought me a huge bagful of Disney movies for the baby this time last year, when the baby was only a raspberry wedged into my uterine wall. She teased me sweetly because I declined a joint at a party, promising me her generation had healthy babies and their moms smoked weed.

She had a witty, insanely dry and sarcastic demeanor and was scary smart. I think she was the most unhappy woman I've ever met. She talked about suicide openly with me, and I offered therapists' numbers, cleansing spells, and my home number to call in the wee hours if need be. She took her life this November- I just found out this week. I'm so sad I wasn't able to attend her memorial. So I'm just offerring this up to the universe: She was here, and I witnessed her being, and enjoyed her company, and her leaving hurts me.

Next time you go to your favorite locally-owned cafe, raise a hot Latte with the espresso run through twice like a Euro, with half a shot of vanilla syrup, and toast Colleen.

molly has discovered the dogs

Molly's obsessed with the dogs now. If one of them is in the room, there is to be no playing, no nursing, no eating while she stared with rapt interest at her beloved furry giant. When they are close, she is overwhelmed and can't decide whether she is in bliss or is just a little scared. It's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

It makes me feel terrible, though, to realize how the poor dogs have plummeted in my attentions since Molly was born. They were our babies, now... not so much. They are great dogs, though.

Meet the Puppies:

Dharma: 10 years old, German Shepherd/Black Lab. Smart, sweet, with a soul deserving of her lovely Buddhist name. When she was a pup, they lived in a van and tent by the New River, and Shane was reading The Dharma Bums. She was Shane's main woman until I came along. After initial hesitation, I was adopted as a mommy with great enthusiasm. During my pregnancy, she watched over me like an angel.

Bailey: 5 years old. We inherited her from Shane's brother, who was our roommate until just before our wedding. The Boo (Bailey is the Boo of our home with the simplest spelling. Molly is the Boue, Shane's Bu, and I'm Bew) is just as sweet and affectionate as she is stupid. That's harsh, but she's not the brightest. She is our teenage rebel, and has a shaggy little boyfriend who's family has to walk her home a couple times a week.

the first booboo

Shane has the baby playing by our mirrored door, and he decides the edges are very sharp and he should play at another mirror. I come downstairs and see the adorableness of baby and Daddy frolicking with Reflected Baby and Reflected Daddy. Then I see a bright red mess on the mirror, and think, "Have I ever worked on any paintings down here? How is there red paint on this mirror? Oh, is that blood?" I say, "What's that red stuff? Is she bleeding?" We examine the Boue and yes, it is her blood. It's a little bitty cut on her finger. She is blissfully oblivious, twisting to see Reflected Molly some more. We whisk her away to the kitchen and Shane holds out the tiny hand while I wash it with warm water, then I am sent to get the gigantic first aid kit. It is huge and waterproof, for my husband is the God of Whitewater Safety. Although would a good Rafting God let his gauze pads get all dry-rotted? No, He would not. So then we find Band-Aids and cut one into wee pieces and after a while the bleeding stops and all is well again.

The funny thing is, I so did not freak out, even a little. Shane's tone during the washing and bandage hunting was this uber-calm "Don't freak out, Mama" voice, but it was not necessary. I totally rock with the not swooning at the site of my baby's blood. Probably it's because she was in no actual pain, because remember the first tumble how I boohoo'ed? Hah! I was still a newbie then, not an experienced and worldly mom-for-six-and-a-half-months like I am now:)

happy moon day

Seven moons. Wow. My little piglet's growing up so fast. I can't believe how fast May became December. We had a loooong night last night. The Boue had gas and a stuffy nose, so she refused to lie down for more than a short while. I took her downstairs to the rocking chair, wrapped us up in a blanket tight so if I dosed she'd be secure, and rocked her back to sleep. Then I'd try to put her into Ye Magickal Swinge For Desp'rate Motheres and she'd start bawling gaain. Repeated this three or so times, and when I finally got her to sleep for real, I lay down with us still in a mommybaby burrito and we slept with her on my chest like when she was a cranky newborn. It was nice, that whole one hour of good sleep we got before the alarm clock sounded.

La piglet must have had gas because she ate an entire container of squash, and some mashed potatoes Mamaw snuck her. She won't eat good for me. Nor will she allow a bottle or sippy if the nummins are even a slight possibility. (Daddy only has limited sucess with the sippy.) Mama = boobage, and that's final, apparently. Um, at some point she will allow me to give her food and water, right?

nightmares real and imagined

Too much tragedy on my mind, I guess: The girl who was the secretary before me at the clinic called us Wednesday to tell us her fiance had been killed in a work accident. He had been in Iraq for over a year and was home for a few months and died of electrocution working on power lines. I'm so sad for my friend and her son, who called her fiance "Daddy." I'm so frustrated for her also, because of the timing. If they'd been married she would have recieved some financial benefits and have fewer money worries on top of her grief.

I've been following the story of the Kim family, too, maybe for longer than most of us East-Coasters. So many of my blog-friends are on the West coast and they mentioned the missing father this week. I just hurt for that family. Such a new baby, and she and her big sister so suddenly without their father. I can't even pretend to imagine the loss their mother feels.

The worries turned into a nightmare. The baby was playing with Shane on a trailor hitch flatbed thing, and I reached for her because I saw she was lying on the edge. She fell then, into a steep creek embankment filled with rocks and very shallow water. It was a slow motion, sickening thing, watching her fall. I started to dive headfirst after her, then realized I'd kill myself. I ran down the embankment and found her at the bottom. She was breathing, but there were shards of rock stuck into her head. I was afraid to move her but almost did, then I worried her neck was broken so I just held her and told her "Keep breathing, baby, stay with me, stay with me." The realism of these dreams is awful. A few nights ago, I dreamt she was diagnosed with a heart defect and was going to die. Each time, I woke up with the beginnings of a tension headache and had to get up, check on the baby, and drink a glass of water and some pain reliever. I wonder if my subconscious has trouble when she sleeps in her crib. I haven't had any nightmares when she sleeps with us.

I'd like to cosleep full time, I think, but there are problems. I always put her in her crib at first, anyway, because she goes to bed around 8, and I need to have some awake grown-up time. Also, Shane's not a fan of keeping Molly in our bed after infancy, and it's so hard to get her used to sleeping alone if she gets used to it now. The half-crib, half-cosleeping arrangement we have now is working fine for now. She wakes at 4 or 5 a.m. to nurse, and then sleeps with us the rest of the morning. I guess as she starts sleeping longer at night it'll evolve into her staying in her room. (If she ever sleeps longer than that. Not that I'm complaining, I'm all too aware that many babies nurse all night long.) I'll miss her though.

I guess it's the nightmare, but I'm being totally clingy. She's had more kisses today than I can count. Snuggle time has been pretty much an all day thing. I just can't let go of that warm tiny body that's so fragile and light. She still feels so baby-ish and little- comparing her to a couple of babies of friends who were chunky monkeys at six months. I love my dainty Little Bit.

Will I ever stop being so anxious and frightened of losing her? If I don't chill sometime soon, I am so not going to be the groovy laid back Mama I want to be. Or maybe I will- I told Shane I'll be the worrier until puberty and then he can take over. I'm totally comfy dealing with sex and drugs and the fun teen rebellion things, but he's so not. He's already joking about being the typical backwoods WV dad sittin' on the porch with a shotgun to meet her dates. Laugh now with me- I'll be crying about it later when he really tries to pull some redneck macho bullshit.

slingin' goodness, molly speaks, and the quest for velvet

I finally found a position Molly likes with our DIY baby sling, which in a former incarnation was a longish shawl I bought at the thrift store and wore to my bridal shower. I tried it when she was newborn in a pouch-like cradled position and she didn't like it much. The other evening I used it differently. It's just tied with one big knot in a circle, and I put it over one shoulder, then slip Molly in straddling the fabric, then I open it up to cup her bottom and twist and open it to cup my shoulder. I'll post a photo sometime soon.

We went to an art reception and this woman said, "Wow, it's so nice to see you're slinging your baby. Is that a Such and Such wrap or a such and such?" I said it was a shawl I found second hand that I improvised and she was delighted. Turns out she's a La Leche League leader and does demos of babywearing and makes slings. She offered to help me fine-tune our new-found sling ability and I'll probably attend the LLL meeting this week. I was just thrilled to meet her on top of all my hippiemama pride at finally wearing her on our great night out.

We had such a fantastic weekend of girliness. Friday, before the art show, we met at Jen's house with a bunch of friends I haven't seen in a while. Molly got oodles of attention. She was playing in the floor when she decided to look at me an nonchalantly say, "Mmm. Mom. Mama."! I know it'll be even more incredible when she knows I am her Mama and she's labelling me, but my Goddess it was beautiful just to hear her tiny Molly voice say that wonderful wordlet.

Today we went to the mall with her Mamaw in the continuing quest for the all important Christmas (ahem, Solstice) outfit. We went everywhere and found that either 1) they had an adorable dress that we loved but none were smaller than 18 months, 2) they had nothing but cheesy red junk with candy canes and teddy bears, or 3) they had dresses I could live with but wasn't thrilled with. We decided to head out to The Hellmouth (big shopping center of discount stores and Evil, Vile traffic. Cool anagram there, yes?) but on our way out we realized we'd forgotten Macy's. We found a clearance rack, and started looking through, and then clouds parted and a choir of angels (for Mamaw) and faeries (for me) started singing and we found The Dress. It's a deep green, velvet with cream satin trim and little pearls and a flower with dangly ribbons. It has a velvet stretchy headband (which I usually hate, but I have been possessed by girliness) and l'il bloomers. It's freakin' adorable. I really, really wanted green velvet. I am a happy mama. Oh, there will be photos, lots and lots of photos.

bear with me, oh loyal peeps

I'm attempting to revamp the [former] loveliness that is [was] my blog. It may be wonky for a while. I promis, new improved loveliness will return soon.

But, look! -------> Organization.

Swell, huh?