So I resisted the mommy crack.

The mommy crack? you ask. What is this “mommy crack” you speak of, Erika?

Why, it’s those little proofs the studio shows you after they take the most incredibly adorable picture of your child in the hopes that you’ll buy their $150 package of pictures because your kid is just so f*cking cute, you just ABSOLUTELY need every single pose in five different sizes otherwise how will you EVER REMEMBER just how f*cking cute they were at this VERY SINGLE MOMENT in their childhood that will never, ever exist again?

Mommy crack. Here’s my credit card, suck the life out of my bank account – just give me an 11×14 of EVERY SINGLE POSE, please!

But I – I resisted! I resisted the crack! We had his pictures done in July, and we’re planning on his one year pictures in February. So I went in with my free 8×10 coupon that they use to get you in the door because they know you won’t be able to resist the crack once it’s all there for you to see. But I – I resisted! I said that I would leave with just my free 8×10, and that’s just what I did!

Ok, to be honest, I did end up buying a really friggin’ cute outfit to put him in, and I was only strong enough to resist the mommy crack after a phone call to Jay, of course, who talked me down from the $139.99 package ledge with a gentle reminder that “HOLY CRAP THAT’S A LOT OF MONEY!”. The reasonable side of my mommy brain knew that hello, it’s the holidays and that’s a lot of money, but every other fiber of my mommy being screamed, “BUY THE PICTURES! We can just eat bread for the next month because Sammy will never, ever again be nine months and five days old, people!!!!”)

The pictures will be online in 24-48 hours and we can order prints from there. We’ll see if we can resist, because oh my god, the CUTENESS. Standing. Smiling. Showing that bottom tooth. In his new red puppy vest and little sneakers. With his new little crooked haircut.

Mommy crack. It’s evil.

I think it’s probably pretty obvious what I’m thankful for this year, but just in case:

• I’m so grateful for Jay’s support, strength and love. I know I haven’t been easy to deal with over the past year, and he’s handled the rough patches with unending love and humor. He’s handled medical things I wouldn’t have been strong enough to do myself, and he does it all without complaint. He works long days to provide for us, even though I know he’d much rather be the one who stays home. He encourages me and celebrates the successes with me. I couldn’t have made it through without him – nor would I have wanted to.

• I’m grateful for Sammy’s health and his doctors, surgeons and nurses – so grateful that I don’t even have the words. They gave us Sammy. What do you say to that? I’m also so thankful that (while I don’t always agree with what’s going on) we live in a country where we have access to the healthcare Sammy needs – and that we don’t have live in fear for his safety.
• I’m grateful for the opportunity to stay home with Sammy. I didn’t think I’d like it, and the beginning was really tough, but I’ve learned to love every minute of it – even when he’s throwing up and refusing to nap. I’m thankful that even though things might be tight because I stay home, we can still afford to put food on the table and a roof over our heads.
• I’m grateful for the love and support of our families and friends – they raced to our sides when we needed them most and gave us space when we needed time to ourselves. They’ve celebrated milestones and the happy moments, and stayed strong for us when we couldn’t always do it for ourselves, even though we knew they were struggling as much as we were. We’ve made new friends who have become such an important part of our lives, I can’t imagine life without them, and we’ve gotten closer to others over the past year. I’m grateful for this.
• I’m thankful for the amazing online community who cared and prayed and worried with us for Sammy. People who have never met us stepped in and sent love, prayer, gifts – it was amazing. I truly believe it helped to carry us through.
• I’m thankful that our families and friends have enjoyed many incredibly wonderful things this year and have made it through the tough times with strength and grace.
• I’m grateful for the hope that Sammy’s given to all the new heart parents. It makes me nervous that things have gone so well, but it makes me feel so good to know that another heart parent’s own heart rests a little easier after she’s seen pictures of Sammy and read the stories of how great he’s doing.
• I’m grateful for the way Sammy’s heart has taught me to slow down and appreciate individual moments more than I had. I still struggle with worry and fear, but now I’ll leave the dishes in the sink for a few hours so I can spend more time with Sammy. I still stress out considerably, but I let a lot more slide now, too. It’s a learning process, one I’m not sure I would have figured out had it not been for Sammy.

Jay and I aren’t big holiday celebrators. Our original plan was to bring food to the families who were stuck in the CICU today before popping by the Reilly’s to say hi, and then heading up to enjoy some yummy food and laughter with Alisa, Jeff and her family at Alisa’s folks’ place. We really want Sammy to understand the importance of giving back. Unfortunately, the hospital has a pretty firm “no outside food” rule, so we decided to make a bunch of fleece cuddle blankets for the kids instead. I’m a little sniffly, so rather than potentially passing on a cold to those little ones, we’re going to head down to the hospital tomorrow, spend some time with the families and give the blankets to the kids.

Next year I’d really like to have something in place where the kids get full-size blankets instead of little cuddle ones. We figured out what to do a little late and honestly? Fleece is insanely expensive. I’m going to start asking around the stores for donations, and potentially hit up family, friends – and you! – for either donations or blankets you’ve made. My dad said he’d like to make the trip to the hospital a yearly tradition, so this might be the start of something really, really nice.

This is something I’m working on every day, and I thought it might be a good prayer to share today as you sit down to eat: May we live in such a way each day that makes us worthy of the gifts we’ve been given. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

A couple of random, fairly pointless things that have been rattling around my brain, then I’m calling it a night:
Jay told me tonight that he’s been waiting for me to post about this, so here you go: about a month ago, we drove over the “mighty Merrimack River”, as Jay called it. I told him there was nothing really “mighty” about it – after all, it wasn’t like the Colorado River or anything. He pointed out that there aren’t many rivers as grand as the Colorado, to which we started naming major rivers. When I got to the Po River, I broke out in giggles (saying, “Po!” makes me feel like Cartman, which is always funny.)
Jay’s response? The Po River is so po’, it can’t even afford to deposit sediment! Apparently, to a geology major, this is just about as hysterical as seeing “Geology rocks!” on the bathroom wall of the Earth Sciences building. (Ok, ok, it was kinda funny.)
A post I started in my head at 3 in the morning last night: I believe I hold the distinct honor of being the only person who has seen The English Patient all the way through no fewer than ten times. Okay, maybe not, but I have yet to find someone else who enjoys the movie the same way I do. I get ridiculously full of glee when I see it’s on TV or on On-Demand (which it was, hence the post-in-my-head at 3-am). I love it for many, many reasons, but cheesily – I could watch the scene where Katherine tells the story of Gyges over and over and over. The way Almasy looks at her – oy!
I really need to go to bed.

It’s been one of those days.
It started out good. Early intervention did their “exit” assessment (exit only because I don’t think he needs EI right now – he’s qualified for services until he’s 3) and determined that he’s at or above where he should be developmentally in all the categories. They were so completely impressed with him. It felt so good to know he’s doing just what he’s supposed to be doing.
Yeah.
Then he sucked down 6 ounces way too fast, and I figured out only AFTER he projectile vomitted all of it that the nipple we used was too large. That put me on edge – there’s nothing like watching your heart kid turn purple and his eyes turn wide as rivers of milk are forcefully ejected from his mouth and nose to make you a little shaky.
We had some good moments – following me into the kitchen and turning around when I started to “chase” him, crawling to the front glass door and kneeling against it, laughing and squealing as Jay walked up the walkway – and then it ended with the bump.
Oh, the bump.
Sammy was trying to pull himself up, lost his balance and whacked his forehead pretty hard on the chair. Within minutes, there was a bump. And then a bruise.
Now, this is unnerving to any mother. And as a heart mom? Gah. Throw in daily baby aspirin – a blood thinner – and you have the potential for a not-happy evening full of oh my god, what if…? thoughts. Visions of internal bleeding weren’t exactly what I’d call “dancing” in my head.
After several calls, a conversation with my sister (a doctor) and the Fellow on the cardiac step-down, and a post on the HLHS mailing list – we’ve determined that Sammy is just fine. He’s crawling, laughing, playing, squealing – doing everything he normally does. We have to keep an eye out for any changes in demeanor over the next 24 hours.
I’m so not cut out for all this worrying. Bring on the pumpkin pie, the whipped cream and a fork… I can’t be held responsible for what happens after that.

First things first: my brother-in-law made it back from Afghanistan, where he’d been stationed since February as a doctor. (He had signed up as part of the “give us a few years and we’ll pay for your med school” plan.) He called my sister to let her know he was in Louisiana, and we all assumed he’d be back home with her in a week or two. Well… he caught a flight TONIGHT! It was such a relief just knowing he was back in the country, but knowing he’ll be back together with my sister tonight? Just – absolutely fantastic.

Tonight was the first time Sammy ate what we ate… well, minus the tofu (soy allergy), corn (afraid he’d choke) & dressing (lemon tahini goddess – not really 9-month-old material) – so he had brown rice with steamed broccoli, carrots and spinach.

He did GREAT – loved picking up the pieces. Of course, a bunch of it missed his mouth and instead made it to the deep corners of his high chair, but he loved what he did eat!

Unfortunately, his gag reflex has been in full swing lately (apparently teething aggravates his reflux), so we had to end the fun a little early. Still – he had a blast, and you’ve got to love a kid who loves his veggies. It felt like such a big-boy step – eating the same meal as us!
I’m sure most of his meals will still be rice cereal and pureed veggies with some finger food on the side, but tonight was definitely a great sign of things to come. Yay!

I had once asked my mom, who works with infants, toddlers & kindergarteners – at what point do kids slow down developmentally? Because really, how is it possible to keep changing and growing at this rate? Every so often I’ll stop and look at all he’s accomplished in say, the previous three days, and say to myself – wow, that was some growth spurt! I’m sure we’ll have some downtime until the next one.
Ha!
In the past week, Sammy’s gone from crawling to speed crawling to pulling himself up without hesitation to cruising. In two weeks, he’s gotten three teeth, and we’re waiting on the fourth. He’s started truly babbling in his own little language with the addition of new combinations of sounds. He dances more often than not and knows that if there’s no music playing, he just needs to look at one of us and wiggle and we’ll flip on the Jack Johnson. And the strangest thing? He’s truly conscious of the world around him. He’s no longer a passive part of his surroundings. He climbs up on the things to explore. He sits and reads his books, quietly flipping pages and tracing the pictures with his tiny little pointer finger. (Even cuter? He “reads” the Cheerios box out loud to me. I’m not sure what’s so appealing about that particular box, but he could spend forever analyzing it). He now realizes cause and effect. He wants to try to turn the light on and off. He waves and says, “Hi.”
He knows things. It’s wild.
I’m sure all parents are insanely proud when their kids start doing these things, but for each new step he takes, I’m in awe. This is a child we weren’t sure we would have at nine months, a baby who we just expected would be developmentally delayed somehow – and look at him. He’s truly amazing. (Knock on wood, please!)
I read somewhere recently something to this effect: I used to wonder in anger, “Why us? Why him?” Now I wonder in awe, “Why us? What did we do to deserve something so wonderful?” It sums up my feelings perfectly – every day I wonder what we did to deserve such a fantastically curious, happy little man little man in our lives.
Cross-posted on baby samson.

Someone please explain to me why 12:30 in the morning seems to be the perfect time to discover that being in the crib is no fun, and that Mama, if you don’t turn on the cd player and play some Jack Johnson so I can dance, I’m going to screech and wiggle and dance and look up at the cd player and back at you and up at the cd player and wiggle wiggle dance until you do?
How could anyone resist that? This kid sure does love music, but -
Have I mentioned that this started at 12:15? And that it’s now 1:59?
I’m absolutely love watching his new love of exploration and his desire to crawl, kneel, pull himself up, pull drawers open, baskets out, dump toys all over the floor and dance, dance dance – but good god, I need some sleep! I tried just leaving him in his crib – fifteen minutes into which he discovered that he can reach the Ocean Wonders aquarium and turn the music on. To which I’m sure he danced and danced and danced some more. And then cried. And cried. And cried some more. I guess crawling back and forth in the crib got old. This kid wanted out, and seriously, there’s little that tugs at my heart harder – yes, even at 1am – than little Sammy sitting up and holding on to the bars of his crib, watching the door for one of us to walk in, crying desperately to be scooped up out of his little jail.
And now in a fit of exhaustion, I put him in his swing and turned on Little Einsteins. Still, I don’t forsee sleep for either of us anytime soon. I’m tempted to just make up my bed on the couch and see what he does when I fall asleep. I’m just certain that as soon as Little Einsteins is over, it’ll kick over to some paid advertisement – with my luck, it’ll be Girls Gone Wild. That’ll win me the Good Mama Award, I’m sure.
Yawn.

I hate football.

Let me rephrase that: I hate American football.

Ok, hate might be too strong a word. I don’t see the point in football? I mean, I know the point – to get the ball into the end and to score more points than the other team. I understand the basic concept. Hell, I even somewhat understand the scoring. But really? It’s too violent and god, what’s with the timer stopping every ten seconds? Jesus – enough already!

Still, I’m trying to make a good faith effort for my husband’s sake.

That said, I like to root for whomever everyone else isn’t. (Don’t hunt me down, Pats fans, but I rooted for the Jets last week just because I could.) Shit-talkin’ is my FAVORITE sport. And since we’re going to friends’ to watch the Ohio-Michigan game today (okay, I’m going for the company, chili and beer), I thought I should do some research.

Jay: You can’t root for Michigan. Why are you rooting for Michigan?
Me: It’s a prettier state than Ohio. It’s on a pretty lake. (Note: I know nothing about Ohio OR Michigan and Jay knows this.)
Jay: You can’t root for Michigan!
Me: Give me one good reason why I should cheer on Ohio, then. And because you and Reilly are rooting for Ohio isn’t good enough.
Jay: Because your son is rooting for Michigan.
Me: Like hell he is! Go Wolverines!
Jay: Well, because only the Yankee fans today are rooting for Michigan.
My dad: Go Michigan!
Jay: See? The Yankee fans are rooting for Michigan.
Me: No, my dad is rooting for Michigan. Go Michigan!
Jay: (loud sigh) Do you need anything from the store?
Me: Yeah… a blue turtleneck… to wear under my yellow t-shirt. Go Michigan!

Interesting tidbit: It is true that, by state law, the Franklin County (Ohio) Board of Elections is supposed to begin counting the provisional ballots cast in this month’s 15th Congressional District race on Nov. 18. Rep. Deborah Pryce leads challenger Mary Jo Kilroy by 3,536 votes. However, the board will not begin to count the votes until Nov. 19 so that the counters may watch the Ohio State-Michigan game.

Seriously – who messes with democracy for football? Go Wolverines!

I think Sammy’s newfound mobility, coupled with his intense desire to do things himself, tripled by his limitless curiousity, is going to lead this mama right down the road to a nervous breakdown.

(I know, I know, some of you think I was on that road anyway. And I probably was.)

I firmly believe in letting him explore. I don’t want to hold him back, unless he’s racing towards something that’s potentially harmful. Otherwise – want to open drawers and pull everything out? Have a blast! Want to pull yourself up on the table and play peekaboo over the top? Rock on! Want to “swim” to the drain switch in the tub and spend ten minutes tracing it with your tiny finger? I’ve got a future engineer on my hands!

Yeah. Until he slams his fingers so hard in the drawer that they have little purple bruises. Until he decides that holding on to the table with both hands is no fun and wants to see what happens if he raises his arms as hiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh as he can. Until he decides to try pull himself up on the water spout before I can grab him and tell him that we SIT in the bath – and he ends on his back with a mouthful of water and a “what the hell just happened?” panicked look in his eyes. (Seriously, my hands were a whopping two feet away from him. He is FAST.)

So yeah. He wasn’t the only one with a panicked look in his eyes. But I did the good mama thing – picked him back up, gave him a slippery-wet hug, told him he was okay and encouraged him to go back to playing in the water. SITTING.

I don’t want to raise a child who is afraid to try new things. I KNOW this is how he learns. If he didn’t let go with both hands, he wouldn’t learn that a) he’s going to fall, b) how to fall so it doesn’t hurt as much or c) how to start to stand up on his own. But man, those bumps and falls and cries (albeit short and clearly not those of someone severely injured) definitely make my arms a little shaky and my head a little swimmy.

I swear, I’m going to start the first chapter of the Valium and Vodka Mommy’s Club. I’m accepting applications for Vice Hot Mama, if you’re interested.

I love that even though they’ll deny it, I actually DO have some influence over my students.
During a break, I was outside with a group of my charmers as they puffed away on their cancer sticks. (I, of course, would pretend to cover words like, “emphysema” and “lung cancer” with a cough in their general direction and rambled on about how the butts they casually throw on the ground get washed into the river and end up the water supply. I don’t know that they actually do, but hey – I’m trying to make a point here!)
Anyway, I will never, ever understand why they think it’s okay to spit on the ground. I think it’s foul and nasty and disrespectful, and told them such. (I also went on a rant about how now I have to walk on spit-covered sidewalk, which will get all over the bottom of my shoes, which will get all over my floors at home (not really, I usually take my shoes off when I walk in the door, but hey – I’m trying to make a point here!) – and now their spit is all over the very floors my infant son crawls on. And do they want their nasty germ-filled spit all over my precious, amazing little son? I DIDN’T THINK SO.)
Wouldn’t you know it? Just moments later, one student called out the very student that inspired ths rant: “Why you waitin’ to spit until Ms. L isn’t looking?”
Cause I made him feel guilty about his filthy, dirty habit, that’s why! I mean, sure, he still spit – but at least I made him think twice about it!
Now if I could only *couEMPHYSEMAgh* get them to quit smoking….