Because you think I'm something I'm not...

------- It's been a while since I've written on this blog, but in light of the recent election, and because I hate long posts on Facebook I decided to just use this space to share some thoughts. 

Because one day my two kids will ask me if I stood by my beliefs in a world that didn't stand by me and I want to tell them that I did.  ------

I reserve my social media posts for photos of kids and ridiculously, delicious meals I eat. Rarely, if ever, do I post anything of serious nature and, instead, like to bring bits of levity to my feed. (I dressed up as an inflatable TRex for Halloween for goodness sake. Posts like that are my cup of tea.) Typically, I defer all controversial posts/comments to someone else I hold dear.

But, today, I can't keep quiet any longer.

Those of you that know me, either know definitively (or have assumed) that I lean conservatively in matters of faith and politics. My faith deeply drives my political choices and is the foundation to my core value system.

For the record, I don't like Trump. Never have, though I can't say I never will.

Something alarming has become illuminated by this election. I have seen my Facebook feed filled with hate, divisiveness, and vitriol throughout this election season and that overwhelming reaction doesn't come from my conservative friends, but from all of my liberal friends. In fact, I can only count 3 of my conservative friends who are outspoken on social media and their political posts are typically those of humorous nature.

Yet, I woke up this morning to post after post of anger and disappointment. Defining all conservatives as WHITE, EVANGELICAL, HATEFUL, BIGOTED, SEXIST, RACIST, INTOLERANT, FEAR-MONGERING individuals who HATE the immigrant & LGBTQ community and will be the downfall to this country.

It's time I made something clear to you. I am a CONSERVATIVE and I DO NOT fit that definition.

In an effort to keep the peace, I have many times stayed tight-lipped and brushed off unbelievably offensive and repulsive comments from friends and co-workers voicing their opinions that are starkly different than mine. Never have I forced my own conservative agenda on them - And I'm not going to start today either, but allow me to define for you who I am as a conservative.

I am a CHRISTIAN. I am a follower-of-Christ and his teachings to love God with all my heart, soul, strength, and mind and love my neighbor as myself. I am not, however, the liberal media-popularized definition of an "EVANGELICAL". What was once a word that described someone that lived their lives to follow God's two greatest commandments, has become a derogatory term aligned with a hateful, fear-mongering racist individual that supposedly acts this way on behalf of their faith in God. Those individuals that claim to be Christians, but act in this way are not the majority, but unfortunately their actions and words are seemingly the loudest. They do not represent me, what I believe in, or acts I condone. I am surrounded by Christian friends who feel and act the same.

I am an ASIAN-AMERICAN. I am the daughter of two immigrants that left their country to pursue greater opportunity in the land of the free and brave. They both came to this country legally, waited their time, and became naturalized citizens. My parents bleed the red, white, and blue just as much as any natural-born American... and they aren't white. They have cared for this country and its future since they placed their hope in it decades ago when they came here with little to nothing in their pockets but hope itself... and they will continue to do so. They pay their taxes, faithfully attend and serve their church, and do their best to love their family and community. They worked hard contributing to the American economy for the majority of their adult lives in order to provide a good life for me.

I try my best to be LOVING and PATIENT. Inevitably, you may have shared an experience with me in which I may not have been loving or patient - for that I apologize. I am not perfect by any means, nor have I ever claimed to be so. I have had and will continue to have my own fair share of mistakes in life, but because I am imperfect, I am deeply in need of a God that is perfect and continues to show me unconditional love and mercy. I hope that as a friend, co-worker, or neighbor I have expressed that to you. That through my absolute unworthiness & imperfection, God still loves us and brings us back into His arms.

I am INCLUSIVE and NOT a bigot, sexist, misogynist, or racist. I LOVE the LGBTQ and immigrant communities.

As a descendant of immigrants, I welcome those that pursue better opportunities for themselves and their families and proudly commend them.

As a woman, I whole-heartedly believe in the value & power women bring to our society and stand by to cheer them on.

As a person of color, I embrace a community of diversity and hope to raise my kids to not even recognize outward appearances but instead love someone for their character and integrity.

To my LGBTQ friends, I hope that you have felt nothing but love and respect from me. I care deeply for the LGBTQ community and have worked hard at expressing my love for you. I can't begin to understand your struggles, so I try my best to listen, care, and seek mercy for you.

I firmly believe, above everything, that regardless of color, race, background, gender, sexual-orientation, religious or political beliefs, God loves you. "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." John 3:17

As we embark upon this new journey with Donald Trump as president, I implore you to remember our country's preamble...

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Key word: WE. WE ARE the people. WE ARE AMERICA. Let's use this opportunity to embrace our differences and not be divided by them. Utilize our collective skills and strengths to build a stronger country and society for our kids and their future. Love one another and love each other well. Let's listen to each other and hold each other in the highest regards and to high standards. Let's value each others' opinions and not disregard them because they're not our own.

I hope to build a future world for my children where they do not live in fear, but instead, get excited in the thought that they can proudly voice their opinion (conservative or liberal) in a country that will not shame them for their differences, but embrace them. A country where my daughter knows she could be president, a CEO, or a stay-at-home mom and be praised for her efforts and hardwork, regardless. A country where my son respects women because he has watched his father, mother, and those around him emulate that respect to him and women around them. Help me build that dream for them.

We can argue point after point over the recklessness, disregard, and disrespect of political leaders, celebrities, and renowned public figures till we're blue in the face, but that doesn't excuse us as people to stop taking responsibility for our own actions and how those actions and mentalities shape our society.

This is not the end. We all want what is best for this country so before you post an over-generalizing, polarizing, or hateful sentiment-remember that I am your sister, neighbor, co-worker, and friend and your words can be hurtful and offensive. Every political season, one side will beat the other, but that does not afford us the right to to undercut and demoralize each other. Be respectful and loving and let's build a better country together. 

I end with this: my hope rests not on one person, thing, or even a single government, but nothing less than God's love & mercy and Christ's righteousness.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Naked Mornings and Other Short Stories for Brave Parents

Navigating through parenthood is tough. Navigating through parenthood with multiple children has proven to be quite interesting.

My collection of short stories from my adventures with Abishai in the last few months.

Diaperless Summer

These days, it's hit or miss if I end up sleeping in my bed.  Most mornings, I find myself waking up on the couch with Hope after falling asleep from one of our middle of the night feedings.  Usually Abishai toddles out into the living room and is eager to start his morning.

One morning this past month, Abishai greeted me with a bright, happy smile.  Leaned up against the couch, his eyes widened as he gleefully shouted, "Mommy!"  Still groggy, my eyes fluttered open as I reached to give him a hug and kiss.  My hand reached out to feel his bare back.  Hmmm... he must've taken his pajamas off.  I went to lift him up onto the couch beside me only to find my hand gripping onto not only a bare back, but bare legs, and a bare butt.

I jolted awake, quickly grabbed for my glasses to confirm my nervous assumption.  Yes, he was naked. Absolutely, butt naked wearing nothing but his Crocs.  Lying on the floor next to the couch (where he obviously disrobed) was his overnight diaper, flayed open like a fish. Now, asking a 1.5 year old anything about their activities is like putting your hand into a grab bag-- you never know what you're going to get.  I frantically asked Abishai if he had peed or pooed anywhere in the house.  With confidence he replied, "Nooooo", slyly smiling at me.

Great.  Fantastic.  Who knows what liquidy (or not so liquidy) substance has been planted onto any flooring in my home. I found no evidence that he lied to me... although the truth remains a mystery. For now, I took Abishai through Diaper Necessity 101 so he completely understands that going diaperless is not an option... at least until he knows how to climb onto the toilet by himself.

Viking Manners
In the last few weeks, Abishai has really made progress in learning to feed himself.  Now that Hope has arrived, I've really had to rely on him to be independent so that our mornings can not only go smoother, but in a timely manner. Every morning he asks for cereal and milk- more specifically, "ser ser n muk".  I can confidently leave him in his high chair with a bowl of cereal to feed himself and ask for more while I feed Hope.

He, like all humans, loves to drink the sugary milk. Now this is all fine, except that, he only wants to drink the milk if he can drink directly from the bowl.  Most civilized individuals wait till all the cereal is gone and the leftover milk can be politely sipped from the bowl. Abishai, being the vibrant toddler that he is, doesn't wait for that moment.  Instead, he likes to take generous gulps of the milk throughout his meal.  This has lead me to police his cereal eating like a hawk. Then, to top it all off, he ends his meal by banging the (hopefully) empty bowl on his tray to announce completion-- as if he's in some kind of eating contest.  Sometimes he does that and he just wants more and proudly announces, with spoon held high in the air, "MOH! MOH!"

Here's a video showing one of the moments I slipped while on watch:

PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN, MOMMY
The title of this last one is in caps because, really... "PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN, MOMMY" is what I should always scream to myself anytime I have the urge to give Abishai a "trim".  Abishai's "bangs" (can I call them bangs even though he's a boy?) grow fast and tend to fall into his eyes often.  He never seems to notice or care, but I catch myself constantly brushing his hair to the side.

One morning, the OCD part of me took over and I pulled Matt's shears out.  "Just a trim," I thought. Just enough so that it doesn't dangle into his eyes.  How hard can this be? I wet his hair while he sat on the toilet watching Elmo on my phone and went to work.  There I was, mimicking what I've seen my hairdresser do hundreds of times, pinching hair between my fingers and just snipping away.  Great. Done.  Looks good and now it's out of his eyes.  So, I jump in the shower and he patiently waits in the bathroom unmoving.

As I showered, his hair dried.  I open the shower door, grab my towel, and glance up at him. NOOOOOO!!!  Your dad is going to kill me!! The "trimmed" hair had dried and now shrunk into straight doll bangs.  Yes... doll bangs.

Thankfully, the woman that cut his hair before was able to take him that morning and rectify my idiocy. I was saved.  Matt didn't kill me and I will never touch cutting shears again. Ever.

Olive Poo Poo

Olive Poo Poo. No, I'm not talking about the color of something Abishai created during his latest potty training episode (although a potty training post is definitely forthcoming).  Olive Poo Poo is actually pretty awesome - it's the newest addition to Abishai's ever growing list of words and phrases, but since it's my favorite, I'll translate it last.

Other than Dada and Mama which have now transitioned to Daddy and Mommy, Abishai didn't really start using words (at least comprehensible words) until 13 months.  At 22 months, he is now extremely expressive. He impresses us sometimes with phrases that we are shocked he knows.  The other day he broke his bubble machine and the following conversation ensued:

Abishai: "Bubbles broken"

Me: "Yes, they are broken. Who broke the bubble machine?"

Abishai: "Abishai broke it." (pause) "Daddy, gon fix it!!"

Now whenever something seems "broken" to him, his go-to phrase is "Daddy, gon fix it"  with an enormous grin on his face.

Here are some of the fun tidbits out of the Abishai language dictionary/translation book:

"Ampa  & Amma": Grandpa & Grandma

"ans": (said post meal with palms up in the hair) hands, typically used to tell you he wants his hands wiped clean

"fowk" (pronounced exactly like the f-word): fork, sometimes "work"

"hum hum": used to express that he would like to eat or try whatever you are eating

"fies fies": french fries

"skeeeze": (said midst hug) to tell you he's "squeezing"

"bat": (said with syncopation at the end) bath

"ser ser & mok": cereal and milk

"kees": keys

"seeping": sleeping, typically used in the following sentence- "Baby Ope seeping!"

"wooking": working

"bru-ken": broken

and finally, my favorite...

"Olive Poo Poo": I LOVE YOU

Here's a video of him talking while trying to Skype with Ampa & Amma:

Hope Elise - 2 months

We are a week or so behind on this post, but tardiness is my MO unfortunately.  This last month went by so fast.  Hope is the perfect second child.  (I probably just jinxed us).  She sleeps well, eats well, and gives in to the whims of her brothers hugs and kisses.  We can't be more grateful for her easy temperament. 

This month we indulged ourselves in staring at her smiles and listening to her attempts at conversing. Here are a few of our adventures from this last month. 

Farmers Market & Mall Buddy

In her first two months of life, Hope has been a great companion.  She sleeps for long stretches and doesn't mind strolling around the South Bay with me.  We now have our weekly trips to the Farmer's Market to pick up fruits for big brother, which also allows me to get my "cardio" in.  If I were speaking in person I would've used air quotes for cardio because it doesn't take much to get my heart rate up-- you know... because I'm so active... or because I'm winded easily.  I pretend it's not the latter.

Then we spend hours wandering the mall... again so Mommy can get her "cardio" in.  You get the idea. 90% of the time we're just window shopping. 10% of the time we're eating a snack.  0% of the time we're shopping... okay maybe it's more 5% snacking and 5% shopping.

Ninja Spitter

All babies spit up. Spit up is technical parent terminology for burp vomit.  Y'know... the leftover food that is still sitting somewhere in your esophagus that hasn't made it to your stomach yet, but heads back up when you burp.  Mmmm.  Hope has this fancy knack of only spitting up when Matt holds her. She plans her attacks strategically and strikes quietly like a ninja.  She may even offer a smile to entice you to come closer before she projectile burps milk into your face and always down your shirt and pants.  In the last 9 weeks, Matt has yet to escape with a clean shirt.  The more elaborate attacks are those when she happens to violate your clothing and still manage to demolish the floor while incorporating that ever-so-recognizable SPLAT sound as it makes contact with the ground.  She never shows any sign of discomfort, before or after.  It's always just a messy surprise.  Matt loves surprises. 

Future Speed Racer

Grandpa Lalo, Grandma Teofy, and Nanay Daday bought Abishai a hot looking, red mini cooper for his first birthday.  Despite the fact that the box said it was a vehicle for children ages 3-6, they were uber excited to spoil him.  Well, it's been nine months and he can finally reach the pedals! It was Memorial Day weekend, we were down in OC, and the sun was out so it was a great day to "put the top down" and let him finally take his wheels out for a spin. 

One Month of Hope

We have two kids.  Not just one anymore... two.  Yeah-- that one over there that's running around one minute and melting down on the floor the next--- he's not the only one we have anymore.  Soon-- we will have two running around and melting down on floors.  Two... melting. Whoa! 

Sometimes I can't believe it.  For 19 months prior to Hope's arrival, I was knee deep in everything boy. Blue blankets, blue clothes, cars, trucks, superheroes, and Elmo.  Boys are easy.  Their clothes don't have to match, they go with the flow (for the most part), and aren't afraid to get dirty.  Plus, having another boy would mean we wouldn't need to buy anything new.  Alas, that was not the adventure God had planned next for us.  He looked at our happy little family situation and said - "Now that Abishai is almost into his terrible toddler stage, I shall bless you with a newborn.  One that requires a whole new set of clothes and will need to be wiped from front to back." And bless us He did. 

The thought of having a girl was daunting.  Ribbons, bows, coordinated outfits, the inevitable emotional roller coasters, and let's not get started about all the PINK-- and I'm just talking about myself. I kid -- I hate pink.  All these things overwhelmed my thoughts before Hope came because, let's be honest, I'm girl enough for this household.  

Then she arrived... and she was perfect.  My distaste for pink immediately subsided as I excitedly dressed her in her first pink dress in the hospital and found a headband to match. I drank a big pitcher of pink Kool-Aid and it was all over after that. Matt is still reeling over the $27 I spent on handmade floral headbands.  Yup-- that happened. 

Everything this time around (with the exception of the pregnancy itself) was so much easier.  We had a planned c-section (hence the perfect birthdate) and everything went smoothly.  At one point during the operation, I was listening to my surgeons talk about Disneyland trips. When we were moved to our maternity ward room our nurse Kady surprised us with a HUGE corner room.  We talked so much about Hope being our last, so she thought it would be a nice treat to have the grande suite for our last maternity stay.  Here's hoping we keep that promise, but God has scoffed at our plans many times. Our room was so large it even had a mudroom/foyer attached.  Having all the extra room did make our stay a lot more comfortable. 

Hope has been great.  She eats well and sleeps even better.  She was well over her birth weight by her first week doctor's appointment and has maintained a healthy, steady growth.  She is the first person Abishai wants to see in the morning (next to Elmo) and the last person to get kisses from him at night. He adores his little sister, whom we think he is convinced is named "Baby".  We repeat her name to him often and he pauses with a blank stare before saying "ope" (silent H) and then immediately follows it with "BABY!" 

Sleeping arrangements have been interesting in our house lately, though. With Abishai asleep in the kids room and Matt in the master, Hope and I spend our late night/early morning feedings in the living room where I eventually fall asleep on the couch till the morning.  We have a makeshift ottoman as a changing table and it works out quite nicely for us.  Thank goodness for comfortable couches. 

Once again, my parents stayed with us for a few weeks- which was a tremendous help.  Matt went back to work immediately so my mom took over Abishai duties during the day, allowing me to focus on taking care of Hope and getting a nap in once in a while.  Here I am at almost 30 and I still need my mommy.  The unconditional love and support I get from her is priceless. 

In true Laleanne fashion, my recovery wasn't without a few, albeit survivable, obstacles.  Shortly after heading home from the hospital I broke out into hives which took over my entire midsection and then some.  Let's just say I won't be wearing a bikini ever again (or at least in the next decade).  After a cortisone shot, a strong dose of steroids, and some good ol' over-the-counter Zyrtec, the hives started to dissipate.  My allergist concluded that the culprit was most likely just my hormones.  Nope-- not a medication or food allergy-- just my pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc on my body.  Y'know like a last hurrah before it headed out of my body.  Woo hoo! 

Despite the hives and the general discomfort from the c-section, we still made it to church on Easter Sunday- six days after Hope was born and even had a mini Easter egg hunt for Abishai back at the house.   Ever since the doctor cleared me to drive again, I've been heading to the farmer's market regularly, going for walks, and even made it to the mall once.  Hope sleeps for pretty generous stretches of time which allows me to run errands here and there.  

Although adding a child hasn't been easy, Matt has definitely made the transition smooth.  Abishai has become Matt's shadow and both Matt and I have essentially taken responsibility of one child.  Now if only Matt could breastfeed... :P

More adventures await us.  Especially now that Abishai informs us when he has "poo poo" in his diaper.  Potty training time?  Hmmm... we'll keep you updated.  Until next month...

Three + One = Four (Welcome Hope Elise)

On April 14, 2014 we welcomed our precious little Hope Elise into the world.  Our cozy family of three became four and once again mine and Matt's hearts expanded to love this beautiful pint-sized creature.

A little over three years ago, I sat in my OB's office and she delicately informed me that I had PCOS, a condition that would make conception extremely hard or even impossible for me.  I distinctly remember staring at her blankly, stunned, and unsure of the words she was explaining to me.  Unprepared for this news, I called Matt to explain how my visit went.  As I repeated the information to him, the severity of the situation settled in and my throat was choked with tears as I realized what this meant for us.

Two years later we were blessed with the birth of our fun-loving, energy-filled Abishai Lee.  I don't know why, but although I've always desired to have three children, a part of me thought that maybe we would only have one.  With all the treatments & stress we endured to conceive Abishai, I wasn't sure I had it in me to re-live the process to have another child.

Fast forward to summer of 2013.  It took so much work to get pregnant with Abishai, being "responsible" about conception was not a concern for us.  Phrases like "meh, it'll never happen on its own" were thrown around carelessly.  In moments like these, Matt enjoys talking about God's sense of humor.  Sure enough, just two weeks after our 7th wedding anniversary God let us in on that humor--- He was probably laughing/smiling... we were silent in shock.  SURPRISE-- you're having another one.

So... here she is. Hope Elise Stanbery.
Born 4-14-14 (cool, right?) at 12:41pm.
6 lbs, 11 ounces (the same weight as Abishai at birth)
18.5 inches long

We have been blessed beyond our expectations.  Abishai can't stop loving on his little sister and neither can we.  We are a very happy family of four.

Happy 1st Birthday, Abishai

Our Dearest Abishai Lee,

I still can't believe that a full year has passed since we welcomed you into this world.  Today you turned one year old.  Every day you continue to amaze us with your never-ending curiosity, fearlessness, and unconditional love.  As I think back through the year, I recall traits of yours that I want you to always remember.

You are brave. 
I was filled with a sense of pride as I watched you confidently pull yourself up and toddle your way across the room to seek out a different toy.  I will never forget the day you boldly ventured up our wooden steps and then goaded us to chase you up them when we caught you.  With each step you take further and each flight of stairs you conquer, you congratulate yourself with joyous applause.  You can conquer anything.

You are loving.
You are our cuddle bug.  No words can express how quickly you melt my heart when you touch my face, tilt your head, smile, then gently lay your head down on my chest.  In that moment you tell me that there is nowhere else in the world you would rather be.  You taught us right away that smiles cannot be wasted. When you smile and gasp that wraith-like noise of yours, we see and hear true jubilee.  Thank you for showing us true joy.

You are smart. 
We are filled with wonder as we watch your curious mind work.  How you knew how to mount your toy motorcycle without ever being on a vehicle of that nature still baffles us. We forget how much you watch our every move.  The way you taught yourself how to unlock my iPhone and swipe through photos still amazes me. We love watching you learn the way things work.  Don't ever stop being curious.  Your inquisitiveness and drive will motivate you to do great things.

You are spiritual.
Without any prodding from us, you are drawn to God.  Since the day you could focus on the pages of a book, the only book that every captivated you was The Lord's Prayer.  You would stroke the images and impatiently turn the pages only to flip the book back to the beginning to read it again.  You "read" your first copy with such fervor, Grandma Teofy had to buy you a board book version to keep up with all the affection you show it.  No other book is of interest to you like this one.  Many times I tried to introduce another book into our bedtime repertoire, but without fail, you'd crawl back to your bookshelves and pull this one out.  Your evening routine is not complete without us reading The Lord's Prayer to you one, two, sometimes three or four times.  Then of course there is your fondness for worship music.  It is so pleasing to me that at the sound of the first few notes of Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons"you instantly calm.  We love this about you.  Our prayer for you is that you continue to seek and love God as you grow.  You are God's gift to us and we dedicate your life to Him.

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.  We love you so much.

Mommy & Daddy

9 months

He just finished eating a Pedialyte pop prior to taking that photo. He ate the entire chilled cherry popsicle like a champ.

8 Months

7 Months

6 Months

5 Months

Abishai's fifth month came with a lot of firsts-- one of the most important being the introduction of solid foods.  We'd been observing him curiously eyeing our meals for quite some time and Matt would tease him by waving his spoon in front of his mouth all the time.  Then one day, he threw his head forward and chomped on the end of the spoon, sucking down any bits of sauce that dripped from the end.  Matt and I paused, looked at each other surprised, and Matt hurried me to find a banana to mash up and give to him.  Long-time moms are probably cringing at the fact that I impulsively gave my son a mashed up banana as his first solid all before he was given the green light from his pediatrician.  Boy did he LOVE that banana.

4 months

Three Months

This post was supposed to be published in November.  I'm one day shy of that.  It may have happened on time, but, frankly, I had parenting to deal with.

Last night Abishai finally laid down to sleep in his bassinet at FOUR AM.  See what I did with the caps there? That's me crying in caps. I used to tell people that my son was a comfort nurser.  I would even use the phrase "if he could nurse 24 hours a day, he would".  I think he's been listening the whole time and laughing on the inside as he was preparing his surprise assault on my would-be full night of sleep.  As he was listening, he tactically devised this plan to initiate sleep-destruction mode on the one day that his mother was going to attempt to have a full day of activities.

Mom's plan: Out with the girlfriends at an arts and design show in the morning and then taking him along with me to meet my high school girlfriends at a baby shower in the afternoon.  Back to back activities for a first time mom who has spent the last 3 months dreading leaving the house.

Abishai's plan: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Mission Zombie Mom!

SURPRISE! You're not sleeping tonight!

When I finally placed him in his bassinet at FOUR AM (I hope you're reading this with inflection), he didn't go down without a fight.  He usually nurses at 10pm and goes down after some rocking and more comfort nursing by 11.  Last night, with a few intermissions with dad making attempts to soothe him, he nursed from 10pm to 4am.  Sounds extreme, right? Like I should have woken up in the midst of a bloody, chapped mess on my chest.  Thankfully that wasn't the case.  He'd fall asleep for a few minutes or so and I'd carefully try to pull away.  Some attempts, he'd even let me lay him down, but only for seconds till he'd stir and start screaming, eyes wide open. To my surprise, he was actually actively sucking the majority of the time.

I finally pulled away around 2am as he jolted Matt awake with his screams.  "I'm just going to let him cry it out," I say to him, "whatever." Confused, Matt suggests we just let him do it in his crib to which I then reply, "Meh.  If we leave him in his crib he's all by himself.  It's abandonment. At least here he'll see that we're both right next to him when he cries.  That's just negligence. It's not as bad."

I'm pretty sure Matt just rolled over and magically tried to shut out the cries while ignoring my blatant argument against all logic.  Yes, I'm aware that negligence and abandonment are pretty much the same.  In fact, it might have even been worse to let him cry next to us.  Letting him know that we clearly see he is upset, but we just. don't. care.  Whereas, we could have made the argument that we didn't hear him while he was in his crib.

Bah.  I pulled him tightly against my tired chest and shushed him a few times in his ear while he screamed it out.  I don't know exactly how long it took till he fell asleep, but my drowsiness made it bearable.

During my pregnancy and in the last three months of Abe's life, I have tried carefully not to pidgeon hole myself into a certain parenting method.  I tend to skew towards Attachment Parenting, but not fully in some areas.  I told myself I'd never use the cry-it-out method, and yet, my desperation drove me there last night.

I worked so hard to have the ability to breastfeed.  Through many moments of ugly-crying sessions, being attached to a pump multiple-times throughout the day, and smelling like maple syrup because of Fenugreek supplements, I'm not about to give all this up for one night of crazy.  One day, this closeness will be gone and our mother-son bond will be different.  The moments where he's full and he turns to face me and smile as if he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but in my lap smiling are few in the grand scheme of things.

Originally, this post was going to be about thankfulness.  Thankfulness for being blessed with Abishai's life, a supportive husband, and encouraging family and friends.  This morning, as I sit here wide-awake in the aftermath, nursing him again for his first feed of the day (technically not the first, but we'll pretend) he is peaceful and I am thankful for that.  I'm not quite sure how the rest of the day will go or if he even recognizes what happened last night, but I refuse to be anything but hopeful. 

It's been three months and my boy is teaching me new things every day.  I laugh as I glance at his 3 month recap photo above and see the irony in sharing that he sleeps through the night.  Sometimes.  Sometimes is okay.  I'll take those sometimes and work towards the every time. 

And since it's now December and not November (my original post deadline), I leave you with this. 

The day after Thanksgiving marks the official start to everything Christmas.  So in getting into the Christmas spirit, I started singing Abishai Christmas songs while in the bath.  Something jolly, I thought-- why not that song about Santa being on the roof.  Completely in tune and on melody, the following line escaped my lips...

"Up on the rooftop reindeer claws..."

I paused and gave Matt a quizzical look knowing full well that I had just began transforming the Christmas classic into a horror film theme song.  With a tilted head and look of concern, Matt looked at me and said, "Claws? Reindeer claws, honey?"  I am now laughing hysterically realizing that I now had the makings of a Christmas song where Santa probably snatches children out of beds too.

I ended up singing the rest of the song... with the correct lyrics.  Abishai sat in his bath completely unimpressed. 

ABISHAI IS NOT IMPRESSED

The sick world we live in

Last week a cold started brewing in my system.  I refused to be kept down, so I packed my body full of Vitamin C and started chugging down broths and fruits to send this sickness on its way.  But as a nursing mother, there's only so much you can do to protect your poor, helpless babe from inevitably contracting your gunk.  Sure enough, a few days later, the snot invaded his nose and his smiles transformed into a quivering bottom lip with the saddest, meekest cough.

Since Abishai is only 2 months old, I was hesitant to give him any medication so I took to my most trusted source of information--- Facebook moms.  Within seconds of posting that I had a sick baby, I had two moms already telling me their fail-proof remedies including hot steamy bathrooms, inclined bassinets, and a trusty humidifier.  Yet, there was one recommendation that stood out above all the others... the NoseFrida.

I immediately googled "NoseFrida" and watched a video on the website demonstrating its purpose.  I gasped.

It's a very simple contraption-- one long tube attached to a plastic cylinder that houses a filter.  The tip of the cylinder is angled for easy nasal passage placement, while the opposite end of the tubing can be placed in another individuals mouth.  The illustration on the box says it all. 

One after the other, my Facebook mom friends started raving about their success rate.  Nose aspirators were a thing of the past and an inefficient method of relieving baby mucus at that.  NoseFrida is the revolutionary new method and every mom is buying into it.

The next day, Matt headed to Whole Foods to buy this miracle mucus tool. Yet, I was still somewhat skeptical and, frankly, the thought made me sick to my stomach.  I kept at my little baby aspirator bulb for a few more days.  It didn't last long till the sadness and obvious congestion in Abe's nostrils kept him from even wanting to eat properly.  There it was.  Sitting on his dresser waiting to be used.  Waiting for someone to be brave enough to suck his snot.

Alas, with my own congestion to deal with, I couldn't properly suck and breathe at the same time.  Daddy to the rescue.  Matt had adamantly opposed being the NoseFrida sucker (pun intended), but when I couldn't do it he took one look at our ailing son, heard his sad whimper as he snorted snot to try and breathe, looked at the NoseFrida and sighed with a "Okay, hand him to me".

The process took less than a minute and Abishai was immediately relieved.  Not the tiniest sound of snot in his nose and he smiled before turning to nurse again.  Hip Hip Hooray!

I can't say I didn't gag and turn my head while Matt did the first nostril.  Sure, I could get mustard yellow, corn soup-like poop all over me without flinching, but snot sucking was obviously not in my repertoire of skills.  Matt, on the other hand, approached it with such valor- as if it was his duty. 

Needless to say, I'm now a believer in the NoseFrida.  Yes it's gross, but you'll go to any efforts to help your kid breathe.  Even if that means doing the sucking yourself.  Which brings me to my next story...

I told my mom of our NoseFrida experience this morning thinking I was going to enlighten her with the wonders of this fancy new baby product.  Her response: "Oh, your daddy did that to you when you were a baby".  She proceeded to tell me that back in the day (because it was sooo long ago since I was an infant- haha) before there were special tubes to suck baby snot, my dad placed his mouth onto my tiny baby nostrils and literally sucked my snot out of my nose. *I just gagged again*

"I couldn't do it and nothing else would work," my mom said, "so your daddy just sucked the snot and spit it out.  It worked.  Must be a daddy thing".  Must be.

I asked my dad about his experience and he acted like it was just another thing you do when you have a baby-- like changing a diaper.  "That's what you do," he said, as he was holding Abishai.  He said it with such confidence that I wouldn't doubt he'd do the same with his grandson. 

There are many traits that make up an awesome dad, but rarely do you ever hear that snot sucker is one of them.  It should be.  You can't argue that having the wherewithal to suck your baby's snot makes you a bit of a hero parent.  Abishai is blessed to have a pretty awesome dad and a fun grandpa as well.

My dad just celebrated his 74th birthday on Thursday and here he is happily holding his sick grandson.  Abishai is truly happy to be hanging with him.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Me? Sick? Nah!

Boo!

Put your scary face on!  I did!

2 Months

As perfect evidence that parenthood is busy, this post is 2 days late.   Did I attempt to start this post prior to the 28th so that I could have it ready in time? Of course!  Did I ever finish it so that I could post it? Of course not!  It's surprisingly hard to type when there's a baby between you and the keyboard.  

Our little Abe is 2 months old.  In the last month we've slowly watched his personality emerge and have tried to keep track of all the fun(ny) and not so funny moments we've been having.  Here are a few from the last month:
 

Cry me a river
Why certain methods for getting a baby to stop crying work some times and not others is beyond me.  We swaddle, swing, shush, put him on his side/stomach, sing, and many combinations of so many other things only to find that he suddenly stops a crying fit once you're standing on one foot while reaching an itch on your shoulder or some other pretzel like stance which you no longer want to move from because supposedly "he likes this".  (excuse the run on).  When there's sudden silence, Matt and I flash each other the "Don't. Move." look.

Bloody Lullabies
Then there's Grandma Teofy.  Boy does he love his grandma.  He could be screaming and the moment he's wrapped up in Grandma Teofy's arms he calms down.  She rocks and swings him for a good five minutes while singing some old hymn and he's out cold.  Out of all the hymns you could choose, without fail, my mom chooses the ones that focus on the crucifixion of Christ.  Without fail, I've overheard my mom rocking him to sleep to "Old Rugged Cross" or "Rock of Ages".  We're not sure if he's comforted by the warmth and coziness of grandma's arms or that songs about Christ's sacrifice on Calvary give him the reassurance he needs to drift into a drowsy sleep.  Every now and then she throws in a "Kumbahya" but it surprisingly takes him longer to calm down.  Signs of early appreciation and reverence for the Gospel story, maybe?  All we know is that his lullabies are so far removed from "Rock a Bye Baby".

Lock me up... I'm crazy
One of the first tasks that a first time parent learns is how to swaddle-- aka baby blanket origami-- and if you don't get it exactly right or just tight enough, then your folding efforts are worthless.  When the swaddle is perfect, it's shocking how quickly Abe calms, but, if you read my last post, you'd see that our sneaky little Abe is an escape master.  I've come to really love the swaddle sleep sacks that do all the work for you and keep him bundled up with the genius use of some velcro straps.  The best part about those (other than the fact that he can't escape out of them overnight) is when I finally release him for his diaper changes.  Not only does he already look like a prisoner in a straight jacket, but when that velcro comes undone, he stretches out like he's finally being let out of his jail cell for yard time.  He sighs, stretches out as far as he can, then gives me the "yeah, I know I only have a few minutes of freedom" look. 

Number Twos
You'll come to learn that some of my favorite stories to tell have to do with bodily functions.  C'mon, let's be honest... farts and poops are funny.  In the last month, Abe's farts have transformed into big-human farts.  The ones where when you're holding him, they erupt with such resonance that you look at him and think "That was you, right? Right?".   (For the record, he always looks back at me with the "who me?" look.)

The other day, Matt was holding him and our friend thought Matt let one rip and Matt stood there trying to defend himself while Abe innocently stared off into the distance as if he was too busy contemplating the meaning of life to so disruptively pass gas. 

After a consistent series of those rumbles, they're almost always followed by the sound of pipes gushing.  A more recent addition is his pausing to strain.  One time, I was feeding him, and he stopped to make the straining sound for almost a whole minute.  Silence. Gush.

Hide & Seek
When I finally get him to go to sleep, I try my best to get things accomplished-- like eat or shower.  In the world of motherhood, finding that time is akin to a unicorn sighting.  On the rare occasion that I can shower (aka "rinse") in the middle of the day because he is in such a deep trance, I try to go as quickly as possible.  Yet, often, my shower is disrupted by his feeble cries of loneliness.  I had to run out of the shower, dripping wet and naked, drag his bassinette into the bathroom and convince him that although he can't see me, I'm still there.  It's like a bad game of hide & seek.  Between shampooing and soaping, I've probably opened the shower curtain 4 times, waving at him, and saying "I'm here! I'm here!". 

Nothing is Clean

In the last 6 years of marriage, Matt and I had never washed our couch cushions.  I know, gross, but they got an occasional vacuuming. Finally, we unzipped the covers of the cushions and threw them in the wash.  As if Abe already has a developed sense of malicious humor-- minutes after placing the cleaned covers onto the couch cushions, Abe has the spit-up moment of a lifetime all over them.  Sigh.


Paparazzi!!!
I've had a handful of people tell me that I don't post enough photos of Abishai.  As. You. Wish....