Something My Son Said

Interesting story about something my son said the other day...

See, we were (note the past tense) reading this children's book called Strawberry Hill by Mary Ann Hoberman. It was a book written for ages 8 and up, probably. It was set in the era of the Great Depression, and was a about a young girl who moved into a new neighborhood in Connecticut. Well, there was this incident in this book where this young girl was called a "dirty Jew" by a neighbor. I knew I shouldn't have read that part out loud the minute it left my lips. Believe me, I am the type of person who believes in the power of words and in editing what I read to my children. For instance, when I read books that have the word "stupid" in them, I change it to "silly" because I don't like my kids to hear the word "stupid" (or "hate" or "fat" or "dumb" or "idiot").

So, anyway, I read the part about "dirty Jew" and pretended like it wasn't a big deal, even though it was obviously a big deal because they then went on to deal with it in the story.

Well, cut to yesterday, and you all know where I am going with this.

Ezra starts calling his baby sister a dirty Jew. And cut to me freaking out at him and talking about the power of words and how he should never, ever say anything like that because it is one of the worst things anybody could ever say to anybody else (next up, ladies and gents, how 'bout he learns the N word?). And cut to Ezra being amused by my antics and continuing to call baby Peace a dirty Jew because of it.

Ugh.

So, we're not reading that book anymore and it's been a day and Ezra seems to have forgotten about it, so I think we're out of the woods. Hopefully he won't ever remember it and say it in public. That would be mortifying.

Messy Hair and Dirty Overalls

I like to give my daughter freedom and autonomy to choose her own path in life, in most everything she does. Sure, I draw the line when she, like, has to wear a seat belt or something. But for the most part, she is able to make the majority of the decisions in her life. One of the decisions she chooses to make is to not brush her hair most days, and this kind of bothers me sometimes because it looks like there is a big, old rat's nest on the back of her head.

But, I do love that she has the freedom to make her own choices about the little things like hair brushing, and I get to pick my battles on the bigger things (like always wearing a seat belt, and not letting her watch TV).

My son likes to assert his autonomy by wearing the same pair of pants (they're overalls actually), over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. But, whatever. If hair brushing and dirty overalls are the biggest problems I have, we're probably doing alright... it just might make us look a little white trash, is all.

What's That Smell?

Vernon came home from his bowling thing last night while I was cuddled up in bed with Peace in the crook of my arm. Vernon bent down toward Peace like he was going to kiss her on the head, but instead of kissing her, he smelled her.

"What was that?" I asked. "Did you just smell her?"

"Yeah, I like to do that," he said.

Now, this should come as no surprise that he likes to smell a baby's head, considering that 82.7% of the adult population likes the smell of a baby's head... but this is the first time that I realized that HE LIKES TO SMELL A BABY'S HEAD! How could I have not known this before?

The Name Peace

So, five months ago, I named my new baby Peace, right? Well, I always felt kind of dumb when I was out and about with her and she wasn't ACTING very peaceful. And I felt especially dumb when SOMEBODY WOULD SAY, "Peace doesn't seem very peaceful today." I tried not to let it get to me too much though, because I just loved the name so much (regardless of the way she acted).

But now, she IS peaceful most of the time. And it is lovely. And it is still lovely even when she is not peaceful.

I Finally Love My Baby!

I hope this doesn't come across as disturbing or make me seem like an uncaring mother, but I think that, after almost five months, I'm finally starting to really fall in love with my baby Peace.

It's not like I didn't LOVE her right away. Of course I did. But, and for whatever reason, there was always some sort of subtle disconnect there. Where this disconnect came from, I have no idea, because I certainly did everything in my power to prevent it: natural birth, continuous contact, the babymoon of all babymoons, co-sleeping, breastfeeding... you get the idea. But yet, there it was, some sort of small disconnect that I couldn't explain.

Maybe it was because I was infinitely distracted by the other goings-ons in my life. Seriously, I could hardly even hold two neurons together to form a thought without feeling overwhelmed (or however it is that one forms thoughts). Having a baby again was just so... hard.

Or maybe it was because I felt like I could never figure her out.

Or maybe it was because I went slightly crazy around month three and couldn't remember how to smile for awhile.

I don't know. Maybe it's none of these things.

Peace has always cried more than my other kids did. Ocean and Ezra actually set the bar pretty high in terms of NOT crying... they only cried for a total of, maybe, 2 minutes a day. All it took was a boob in their mouth to make them feel better, and all was right with the world once again. With Peace, she cried, and I would go right for the boob, but that would not work. I was a one-trick pony who needed to figure out a new trick. So I swaddled. I bounced. I did whatever else. She ended up crying for, maybe, 10-15 minutes total throughout the day. (That's not counting car rides though, because that's another story altogether.) So, she took a lot more effort, and she required me not to be lazy (which was yet another thing that I wasn't used to).

I had to get used to the fact that, hey, this baby needs to sleep during the day and I need to be the one making sure that she gets naps instead of traipsing about to wherever it is that I need to go. I had to get used to the fact that she didn't like to be in the car, especially at night, and that I would have to forgo any nighttime excursions for while. I had to get used to a lot of things again... a lot of the normal, taking-care-of-a-baby type things that my brain had forgotten about in the 3-1/2 plus years since I had Ezra.

And I did.

So, now it's kind of hard for me to even remember those feelings because, for the past week or two, I have felt so utterly and completely IN LOVE with her... it's wonderful. When she nurses, she holds her head perfectly still and scans my face with her eyes, back and forth, back and forth, like she's looking for something in me that she's never seen before. When I take her to bed with me, I snuggle her in the crook of my arm and hold her like a teddy bear, with my chin on top of her head. And, oh, the way I am able to lift her, and hold her, and carry her... it is an effortless flow now, and it is like she is an extension of myself. I love it.

Time is standing still now, whereas, before, it was just passing me by. I feel slightly guilty for the fact that the past five months went by in such a blur. I wish I could remember them more. I wish I had taken more pictures. I wish I had been less neurotic. I wish I had savored the moments more. I miss them already.