Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Can you see them?

Two tiny, teeny little pearly whites.

Monday, November 17, 2008


It smells like poop in my house.

And I don't know where it's coming from.

Friday, November 14, 2008


New Mom-Do to go with my high-waisted jeans and sensible footwear.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Confessions of a (Reluctant) Co-Sleeper

Never in a billion years did I imagine that I'd be one of those. You know who I'm talking about...a co-sleeper. One who sleeps WITH their children.

That's right. Yes, you read it correctly.


The Bean has a perfectly acceptable (and I'm sure, quite comfortable) crib in her own room. It's decorate quite nicely with warm flannel sheets with little sheep on them.

Prior to actually having children, I always imagined that parents who slept with their babies were simply crazy. I mean, give up a decent night's sleep to have your kid curled next to you?

Then I had children. And like most first-time parents the reality between what "should" happen and what "actually" happens hit me like a ton of bricks. Apparently, some babies do voluntarily sleep alone from the start. You can put them down and they'll simply sleep.

Not my Bean. Never has and probably won't for some time.

She liked to be held from the beginning, curled in the crook of my arm, on her side, facing me.

My one regret of parenting thus far was fighting this. I have tried night in and night out, months on end, to try to get her to sleep, alone, in the crib. But inevitably, she ended up back in our bed at some point during the night. She has never slept in her crib a full night. Not once.

So I am resigned. I have accepted my fate as a co-sleeping parent and have embraced it. We bought a king-sized bed. It's likely that she will not be moving out anytime soon.

And in my resignation, I have found that I love sleeping with my daughter. I love seeing her lips pursed in sleep, as if she is blowing kisses to me in her dreams. I love feeling her warm breath smelling of my milk against my cheek. I love how she reaches for my face at night, to reassure herself that I am right there, still next to her, still protecting her. I love feeling her little sturdy body next to me, being able to brush her hair with my fingers. I love that the first thing I see when I wake up is her round face peering at me, smiling at me with sleep in her eyes.

Why did I fight this for so long?

It feels so right.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008


It's been a long time.

I came across this quote today from Anna Quindlen. And, as luck would have it, I'm feeling exceptionally sappy. A rare day, indeed.

“I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of (my three children) sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

My whole life, I've always had problems living in the moment. I forever feel like I'm looking to the next step and not simply enjoying the now.

I cherish my life, my baby, my husband. I am so grateful to them and for them. And for my friends, far and near. And I don't tell them enough.

So thank you.

Today, I will live in the moment.