The Language of Baby

Several times a day, here's what you'll hear me say...

"Are you making me a diaper?"
"Is that my little little?"
"Do you want a boo boo?"
"What a sneezers!"
"Are you shoo-shoo?"

I miss true adult conversations. I even miss slurred, drunken babble.

Oh, and here is my new babysitter...

Jimmy Crack Corn

My guilty pleasure of the fall season is candy corn. I am officially on my third bag since they hit the store shelves en mass. I'm not bragging about this level of consumption but reaching out for help to end the addiction. No wonder I can't lose these last 10 baby pounds. Somebody plan an intervention before they go on sale after the Halloween holiday.

Charge It

Today I actually got to go shopping for me, by myself. For one frantic hour, I tried to pretend that I didn't have an urgent reason to race home to the baby and enjoyed a brief moment fondling clothing that I hope to fit in to again someday. I almost turned around a few blocks away from the house because I was sure Willem was sending me telepathic baby-to-mommy information that daddy didn't know what the hell he was doing and couldn't stop his crocodile tears from flowing. I feel this way because a couple of times I've gone out to run a VERY quick errand, husband has called to say not that Willem was crying but that he was FREAKING OUT and I needed to come home NOW! Of course, hearing his heaving, sobbing voice in the background makes my boobs engorge, my head spin, and I break the sound barrier in my truck. This morning, I raced to south Austin to my favorite store, nearly creamed a couple of families in the parking lot, and practically ran inside. Knowing the layout of this place very well, I cruised my normal browsing route at warp speed, tried on a couple of items in the middle of the store over my clothes (who has time to walk all of the way to the dressing room?), and had great success in the shoe department where I realized that although my son got my eyes, he has given me big feet. I already possessed a couple of built in barefoot skis and now they are Telluride snowboards. I grabbed the mommy-friendly boats and hightailed it to check out. As I write this, I realize I completely forgot about shopping the baby section of the store. In a way this IS a success story.

What Is The Sound Of One Hand Typing?

Raising a child is the most exhausting thing I've ever done. EVER. The little darling is sleeping right now (God only knows for how long or short) so I am typing as fast as I can. Yes, I should be sleeping, too. It's impossible to blog with him clinging to the left side of my body while my right hand bounces around the keyboard. I've tried. Very frustrating.




Two weeks ago, we moved into our remodeled house but were told we couldn't officially "move in". At the time, the electricity didn't pass inspection so we were informed that we could put our crap inside but we couldn't live there. Huh? Was someone really going to try and stop me from sleeping in my own bed in my new master bedroom? To make matters worse, there is no gas therefore no hot water and no heat. This will finally be remedied tomorrow but remember, we moved "in" two weeks ago. In an effort to avoid the constant traffic of contractors crawling around the house like insects on a pile of poop, hubby, baby and I went to the coast for a week in hopes of returning to a home we can actually inhabit. The time away was, well, like being at home with baby but just in a different house somewhere else. We did go on a few stroller walks but the mosquitos were relentless and once I looked down to find a huge beast perched on the end of Willem's nose! Freak out! I did make my pilgrimage to purchase a giant cinnamon roll and that was a highlight. I saw the beach from the back of my truck while everyone else frollicked in the waves like seals. My husband's brother, wife and daughter joined us over the weekend and I was more than eager to play "pass the baby" as they were eager participants. One of the many perks of the extended family.

So now we're home in a house full of boxes, the contents of which have revealed more junk than I can believe we were stupid enough to pack up a year ago. We could open our own Goodwill. We even gave away two suitcases and some clothes today to a couple walking down the street. Is that weird?

I unpacked Willem's room right away when we "moved in". Repressed nesting took a hold of me and I didn't stop until it was done. Of course, it's still an unfinished version of what it will be someday but Willem seems to like it. His changing table is by a sunny window now unlike before when it was stuffed in a closet smelling of stale shoes. He smiles and bounces his arms and legs as the sun makes him squint to the point of visual darkness. I bought him the coolest moblie but my arms get tired dangling the heavy thing over his not-so-little head to amuse him. It only attaches to a crib and we don't have one of those yet so I angle it like a fishing rod with a big catch on the end and watch my son swing his spastic arms to touch it. Oh, the things I will do to see him smile.

On a side note, have I mentioned breast pads yet? No? Did I think for a minute that I would be a candidate for such products? No way. Am I keeping the companies in business? Definitely. I never thought I'd be wearing round maxipads on my boobs. No one spoke of the possiblity. Is it only a big deal to me? Perhaps. For the record, I hate them but perfectly circular tandem wet spots on any shirt are out of the question.

Today...

Dearest Willem,

Today you are 33 days old. I think that most mothers would write a letter to their child on a certain significant date but to me every day is significant and a celebration of you being in this ol’ cruel world. At the moment you are in your swing and seem to like it, an event that is as hit and miss as a basketball hoop game at a county fair. I believe most of this enjoyment stems from the fact that you are currently filling your diaper with your special sauce and it looks like it feels pretty damn good.



In the wee hours of the morning last night, I looked down at your sweet face as I was nursing you and ‘lo and behold you were flashing the Hook’em Horns sign on your cheek with your tiny hand. Wow!

In these same wee hours when you awaken for your 30th feeding of the day, you nurse with such excitement and urgency, making me feel so needed and necessary in your world. You make these great breathless gulping sounds that go “yoink, yoink, yoink” and are loud enough to wake your father. It’s dramatic to the point of cartoonish ridiculousness and we always laugh at you. I only hope your feverish drinking sounds don’t last in to grade school. I fear what the other kids on the playground might do to you when you finish a carton of chocolate milk. You nurse with such force that at any moment you could suck off my nipples, put them in the pocket of your Gap sweatpants (yes, they do have pockets!) and toddle off.



You love being outside and listening to the cars woosh by. You enjoy our stroller journeys. You love your baths even when mommy forgets to warm up the infant support thingie in your tub and puts you on its icy cold surface as you scream like a skinned cat. You like lying on your changing table for chunks of time just to hang out and gurgle to the white walls. Putting a clean diaper on you is like dressing a fish and you think it’s funny.

You are already outgrowing your Onesies and sporting quite the handsome mullet with ponytail potential. You smile at your father and I can almost feel his explosive love for you in the next room. You are such a snuggle bunny and I could hold you for hours. I love it when you send up your dramatic fake cry and I swoop in like a mother lioness ready to protect and nurture. I love watching you change every day as a part of me is sad to see you growing so fast.



Tomorrow we move into our new house and start a new life. Your mommy and daddy have been waiting for this moment for over a year. We are very excited to share this silly purple home with you. We think you will like it. Barney the Dinosaur would. Thank you for being my son and for being so wonderful. Thank you for showing me what it means to love unconditionally. My heart couldn’t be any bigger.

Love,
Mommy

How Does He...

Make the poop shoot straight UP his back? It exits the top of his tiny diaper and soaks up the adoring expressions of the giraffes and elephants on his Onesie. It's a mind boggling phenomenon.

When Farts Became Cute

As a testimony to his healthy bodily functions, my infant son packs one hell of a fart. His tiny buns amplify the flatulent exit and I am in constant shock and awe at the punches packed down there. Today, in the quiet solitude of our bonding, he ripped one so powerful we both jumped. After checking to make sure there wasn't a fire or smoke down there, I burst out laughing while he stared at me poker-faced like nothing happened. When in the arms of strangers, a toot evokes a look of concern and a sudden passing of child back to parent. Having recently been schooled in the art of distinguishing between harmless and dangerous farts, I am amused by this exchange. Eyes immediately scan ones garment for evidence of pooting debris. Thankfully, as of this date, no one has been stained and I have yet to receive a dry cleaning bill.

The freakin' temperatures have finally dropped in our fair city and it looks like the 90+ days of heat are a thing of the past for now. Willem and I went for a walk this afternoon. I was so in to the weather that I walked 30 minutes in one direction and had to walk it back. An hour walk is no big deal to most and there was a time when it wasn't a big deal to me either but I had worn the wrong shoes, still have C-section suture issues, and had forgotten to bring water. Upon collapsing inside my front door, I realized I have a long way to go to get back to my normal, energetic self. Onward through the fog.

I got an email from a girlfriend the other day asking who my pedi was. I emailed her back with comments, info and a link to the spa where I get my pedicures done. She emailed in return saying that I needed to get with the "mommie program" and give her Willem's pediatrician contact info, not pedicure info. She basically stated that my monthly pedicure days are over except for VERY special occasions. I choked back tears as I painted my toes myself.

This is a hotel pool in Corpus Christi sans water in natural light.

Can't You Just Hear Him Saying...

"ROCK 'N ROLL!"

And The "Baby Of The Year" Award Goes To...

Willem Zuniga!

I'm not EVER expecting it to happen again, but the most wonderful baby in the world didn't cry ONCE on the 4-hour drive to the beach, or on the drive to and from Corpus where daddy had to play an outdoor show (after Foghat!) at 10 p.m. therefore getting us back to the beach house at 2:30 a.m., nor did he cry on the four hour journey home. I didn't even have to drink tumblers of adult beverages to medicate him or myself for any of the legs. We went cold turkey and it was great! I don't know what kind of mommie karma I racked up to deserve such a wonderful trial run with tiny infant but whatever I have to do to pay it back, I'm game. We didn't get to spend much time at any of the places we went and it was still damn hot out but we did our little routine in a new location and at one point, Will slept for a 4-hour stretch one night. I think I even had a dream or two!

We walked to the neighborhood coffee shop for decaf and a cinnamon roll shortly after the sun came up one morning (note - daddy is still sleeping in) . I make a pilgrimage each trip to own one of the delicious pastries. These beasts weigh a couple of pounds each. If you're lucky, they're still warm from the oven. Here is proof of the size of this thing. I am holding it right next to baby's head for reference...



Yes, it was delicious.

Looks like we'll be moving in to our house on the 14th of this month. No, it won't be fully completed but we have agreed to move out of our apartment so someone else can move in. This gave me an excuse to really crack the whip on the contractor last Thursday. Most of the finer details will be completed but I'm sure we'll have to co-exist with a few strange men lurking as they tie up loose ends. It's been over a year since we have been able to settle in somewhere and create a home environment. Our life has been in storage that long, too. It's been tough as we have moved four times in the last twelve months. I can't believe my marriage is still intact and we even have a baby to prove our compatibility. Needless to say, we aren't doing squat in the upcoming year except gardening. Hubby can continue to push his music career and I'm going to grow stuff, dig deep and put in some roots.