Happy, Happy Birthday Baby

Aside from a few minutes, exactly two years ago I became a mom. Holy shit. What's that Dr. Seuss book every graduate gets? "Oh the places you'll go.." Well, I didn't go anywhere. Literally, I'm back at the same house as when I graduated but OH, THE PLACES I WENT.

My little girl has made my life meaningful. She's become a beacon of hope for our future, a blank slate I avidly watch become a person. She's the reason I work, she's my motivation to become a stronger, responsible woman. I want Lo to be proud of me, as proud of me as I am of her.

Going from anti-kid to pro-Lola was definitely a journey. I faced obstacles like health insurance, daycare and shitty strangers saying shitty things about my unmarried status but more importantly, I faced internal obstacles. People say, "it's all in your mind," like it's a comfort, but to me, that can be the scariest place of all. I was helped along the treacherous path of acceptance and eventual love of motherhood by some truly beautiful women and fellow mothers.

For her birthday, we are going to try a new cookie recipe, dance to some horrible Dora music, read some books and snuggle to sleep in our lovenest tonight. Tell me that doesn't sound like fabulous birthday bonding? I can't wait.

Although I can honestly say that I prefer Lo being toddler over a baby, I am thankful for her babyhood, grateful for her toddlerhood and look forward to each and every day after this with my gal.

Cheers Lo, thanks for being my daughter.

My Favorite Mistake

This morning, Lo was curled up in bed beside me and when I began to creep cautiously from the covers, she stirred and fixed her determined little eyes on me.

"Mama...my mama." Spoken barely above a sleepy whisper but with a note of steely resolve.

She rolled over, scooched her butt back, reached over her own wee body, grabbed my hand and put it on her belly. We ended up with my cheek resting on her forehead and my left arm encircling her little body. A warm tangle of MommyBaby in our lovenest.

Satisfied with the new arrangement, she conked out again, immediately snoring.

My heart melted into two meaty puddles in the soles of my feet. "Ok Lo, twist my arm," I thought. We were 15 minutes late for work today.

And I never wanted kids, HA.

My Wonderful Kid

I've been doing a lot of thinking about being a mom lately and (obviously) specifically being Lola's mom.

Before Lo was born, I was worried I wouldn't be comfortable with being called Mommy. (For the record, I'm still not "Mommy" but I am a bonafide "Mama.") I'm sure I'm not the first nor last first-timer to have qualms about entering the realm of title vs the more familiar name, I still think it was a valid worry because I'm not so quick to accept change.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment when Mama become comfortable but I can tell you that I took me a long while before I could refer to myself as Mama without an inner wince.

Last night I found myself at Panera, alone for once because Tee's mother had Lo. I listened to a little girl calling her "Moooooooooommmmmm" to see what kind of soda to fill their communal cup with. Now I'm not prone to fits or faints or seizures or visions, us sturdy Midwesterners are stoically ANTI that sort of nonsense but I had this weird, dizzy disorientation while watching this child.

"Is that what Lola sounds like when calling me?"

"Is that Lola in a few years?"

"How do I identify with that woman, a mother?"

"Will that be me in a few years?"

I saw myself stacked amongst the rest of the worlds' moms, like still frames in a projector reel.

This got me thinking of images of mothers everywhere, all the same, same name, same post-partum shape, same weary way of responding "what honey?" I actually had to shake my head to dispel this uncomfortable train of thought and allow my rational side to take over.

I don't have to identify with that woman just because we're both mothers. Lola and I are a mother-daughter dream team no matter the parallels we have with others. Despite the fact that I DO carry the same title as millions of other women. I DO have a saggy mom-body and I DO have the habit of absentmindedly answering Lola's many queries with "yes baby...?"

I think I was worried about a loss of self way back when Lo was in utero and I was busy terrifying myself with "what-if's". I saw the similarities of the many many Moms out there but there was one thing I didn't, nay, couldn't have known yet.

While I do share many characteristics with many others, there's one thing I don't share with them... Lola. And this is a major difference indeed. Because Lo is so original in and of herself, I can indulge in some typical mom behavior like forgetting to care about things the used to matter (shaving of legs, styling of hair, clean clothes), having a horribly messy car (mooshed crackers, spilled juice), and looking wildly around a store when I hear a child shouting "MAMA, MAMA!" even when my child is in the cart in front of me.

Lo counteracts this by singing about everyday objects like newts, Nanny-Baby Kitty, Mama, ice and the moon. By being so contemptuous of banana anything that the offending food item will get an icy stare, how dare it be banana flavored? By sleeping with her mouth open, unabashedly snoring. By being Lo.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes, a very small but key difference can save you from being just like everyone else. Mine is approximately 29 pounds and is the Lola half of the Lola and Mama dream team.

Hurray, Hurray for Halloween! (Almost)

Nothing interesting to note except for the fact that I found three things I must have today:

A 16GB orange Ipod nano

A replacement camera

A pair of red patent leather kitten heel shoes, what a steal at $90.00 ($20.00 more than the same fucking shoes, last season!)

I added and calculated and wizzed and whirred and tried-to-figure-out-which-bill-I-could-push-off-paying-for-another-two-weeks and finally came to the conclusion that I can't afford any of them.

Sad day at Servpro.

On a lighter note, Lola and I are going trick-or-treating tomorrow and I can't wait! This is one of those things that I get all excited about and repeatedly tell her about before we do it, obviously have fun doing it, and then I jaw her ear off afterwards about how I can't wait to do it again next year.

I hope that she understands that my excitement isn't only T-or-T'ing again after such a long hiatus (why again is it improper to T-or-T once you reach adolescence? Surly teens need excitement and candy too, plus you get to meet your neighbors.), it's being able to share this with her.

I like introducing people to things: pomegrantes, Llanas tacos, anthropological tales, news articles etc. because maybe if they ever come across it again, they'll think back to my thrill at being the first to show them. And maybe I'll get someone to enjoy respective newthing with.

I guess this was a long-winded way of saying that I can't wait to show Lo how trick-or-treating should be. Warm Halloween costumes? (although today is 60 degrees, at the end of October, in WI? Crazy.) Check. Candy bag? Check. Safe neighborhood planned out? Check. Fellow T-or-Ter's? Check, check, check, check! A Mama to eat any candy that looks like a choking hazard? Count me checked. I think I can safely say that we can't wait!

My favorite holiday: here we come!

Mama...Bayyybe...

Lola is loving babies right now. Actually, she's frickin' obessesed. Everything is a Bayybe. Bayyybe ketchup bottle, bayyybe shoe, bayyybe plant etc. Sometimes she uses bayyybe as a synonym for "small" (a small plant), sometimes it's used as a way to express ownership (that shoe is the baby's shoe), and sometimes it's a title/noun (that's a genuine baby).

I can tell you that I sick and tired about hearing of babies but it's a subject that Lo holds dear and I'm trying to encourage her interests even if I don't agree. Shiiiit, I was doing my best to avoid bayybes for about 6 years through a combination of luck, everchanging contraceptives and lots and lots of prayers in my newfound religiousness when I thought there might be a bayyybe. Of course I reverted to my old ways as soon as I knew there wasn't, talk about not learning my lesson! This pattern and mindset sure makes it hard to get excited and comfortable with bayyybe talk every minute of every hour of every day, but I'm trying.

There is a point to this dear reader, which I will get to shortly. Yesterday Lola and I went to Cozy Nook Farm where we bought some pumpkins, sat on some vintage John Deere tractors, accepted candy from a stranger (jeez, am I slacking on my momness or what?) and pet some cows. First we got to pet the calf that was only a month old. It was housed in a nice little area all it's own with clean hay and a cool breeze. I was a little hesitant to let Lo pet it though because it had flies congregating on it's legs. When I shooed them away, I found healing raw patches and the poor baby had a pretty pitiful cough too. After hearing the creature wheeze, I decided it was time for Lo and I to go look for healthier animals to pet. We called a big cow over (named Cinnamon) or in Lola speak, Mama. A big cow, obviously the Mama.

Then my automatic cynicism receded a bit and I went into empathy mode. What if it is the Mama? How does she feel having her month-old, sick calf separated from her to draw pumpkin buyers to the farm? Does she even care, being a cow? I must admit, it didn't seem like she did, she was too busy sniffing/snotting on my baby's feet to look very interested in her own baby. But then again, it might not have even been her baby.

The point I'm trying to get it at is Lola is teaching me as much as I'm teaching her. Fuck off, I'm not spouting cliches for the hell of it, I'm trying to say that she leads me to think critically, open up my narrow perspective and maybe change my mind about a few things I've tradionally held one way or another. She makes me look at things with new eyes, I smile at things that I know she would like, I moo at cows when I'm all alone in my car. I skip on my way to night class and smile at people who give me disdainful looks.

I think I was well on my way to becoming a very serious, very self-absorbed person before Lola came along. I would never have skipped to class unless intoxicated. Maybe because I would've been embarrassed but most likely because it wouldn't have even occured to me. Lo has brought some serious fun into my life and rerouted my path to personhood all the better. I like being Lola's mom. I like myself more and I love her. Hear that Lo? I love you.

Do I love everything bayyybe? NO. But I love my bayyybe more than fumbling words can say.