Gratitude

This time last year, I was feeling a little "eh."

My tummy wasn't comfortable. I wasn't in pain, but I'd woken up about 4:30 in the morning just not feeling right. I decided to work from home. I spent the morning sending "Adam will be taking over this project" emails, so I could spend the rest of the week just supporting my colleagues as they took over my projects.

Over the morning, I called the doctor, my mom, and girlfriends who'd had kids. Finally the nurse told me to go in. Waiting for H to come home, I took a walk around the block - it was 90 degrees and the perfect Washington summer day - grey and muggy. It was probably the slowest anyone's ever walked that block.

H was convinced the hospital would send us back home with a false alarm.

Nope, The Bean had begun her approach.

We didn't know her yet, then, not like we do now, anyway, but like in everything else she does, she arrived on her own time and schedule. We just happened to be there.

She's the most beautiful, wonderful thing that's ever happened to me - to us. I'm sleep deprived, exhausted, cranky a good bit of the time, and overwhelmed. But when I come home every day, and no one else matters to her but me, it's all worth it. When I see her stand at her playstation thingy and play, "talking" all the while, it's all worth it. When I see her sleeping sweetly,...well, you get the picture.

My life shifted from classically stylish to "accessible" tops and skirts (my dream right now is to wear a dress again), and I barely have time to wash my hair (another dream: to blowdry my hair). No more will I give the poor mommies on "What Not to Wear" and "Ambush Makeover" a look for wearing whatever's on hand. The Bean just takes my focus in a different place. Doesn't mean I can't be stylish a good bit of the time. I try.

In the meantime, I want to thank the IR for all the wonderful, kind thoughts and words. Even now, as I get ready for her party, somehow the comments you write touch me - the idea that people out there - some whom I've met in person, some not - show genuine care for someone over the Internet is simply amazing. I re-read the comments on The Bean's arrival the other day. Naturally, gushes of tears (they come pretty easily nowadays) - they're at the edge right now, even.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Pics courtesty of my cellphone. Whatever would I do without it? I'd never capture any of these moments...though now, just a month later than the last of these was taken, she won't sit still long enough for me to snap a pic - she wants to make calls with Mommy's phone...

from top to bottom: November 07 - I was so tiny then; December 07 - I laugh all the time; March 08 - I'm not telling...whatever it is, I'm not telling (and my first vintage - a sweater someone hand knit for my mommy); March 08 - Protestant Easter in my bonnet and bunny coat; April 08 - Out to lunch with Mommy & Daddy when the paparazzi strike - no autographs, please!; June 08 - a little morning pensiveness

Please Indulge Me

This is absolutely off-topic, and way more personal than I usually get here, but my Mom-Mom's memorial is tomorrow, and somehow, it seems right to post this. If I can manage it, I'm going to share it at the service. My Mom-Mom was the ultimate woman. Her poise and grace are always evident - as you can see at 86 at my sister's wedding (on the arm of my handsome brother).
___________

H and I were talking, trying to figure out if I could manage to do this.

“She was a sweetheart,” he said. And I laughed.

Then I stopped myself. I realized that most of us who know her wouldn’t use that word to describe her. Not that she isn’t – he’s right, she is – but we all know her as strong, independent, determined, proud. And I’m a little sad that it took someone who met her later in life, rather than someone who’s known her all of her life, to say it out loud. I won’t remember Mom-Mom baking cookies or giving big cushy hugs like the stereotypical grandmother. For heaven’s sake, I very nearly drove off the road the day we were having our regular “DC Celine's on her way home from work” phone call and she signed off by saying, “I love you, honey.” I will, though, remember her doing all of the things she did to show me how much she does love me and which define her so wonderfully. I’ll tell my daughter about all of these things, so she’ll know the Mom-Mom in the picture of the three of us I’m so grateful to have.

I’ll remember:

• back-to-school shopping every year


• being proud that my stately grandparents were the ones greeting at the back of church


• liverwurst sandwiches on the teal ceramic plates on the screened porch


• that the little chalkboard I made for her when I was in elementary school hung in her home forever


• getting on the bus with the grownups from church to go to the Philadelphia Orchestra matinee. I remember the last trip we took downtown, her picking me up at high school to go.


• the dark wooded restaurant where we lunched on my very first bowl of French onion soup after the concert – I felt so grown up


• the collection of children’s books – Clifford and Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel still being my favorites – in the closet in the den


• dinner at the country club


• vegetable beef or beef and barley soup


• that she came to every swim meet, play, and concert she could – no matter how slow I swam or how horrendous the elementary school band was


• how much I liked that she kept the bedrooms like they were when my dad was little


• the cooing of the mourning dove that always seemed to wake me up when I spent the night with them


• how much I wish I could play golf and bridge like she – they’re just such grownup things
  that she spent a good part of her time bringing meals to others


• her playing the piano


• sitting at the buffet restaurant over cups of soup and sandwiches, me asking about her life – her family, mother, father, Pop-Pop – and her just plain telling me all about it in such an honest way that lets me make sense of my family

I’ll remember how much she loves me – completely and totally unconditionally, because I’m hers.

Off Topic: Humbling Joys

Babsie D writes how humbling it can be to have something you're good at go not quite so well. As I was reading her post, The Bean was gurgling and cooing in the background. Playing by herself in her crib, putting foot in mouth in sheer innocence (we'll teach her later about what it means to put your foot in your mouth figuratively).

There's nothing more humbling and joyful at the same time as your baby's sounds.

I listened for a while, then, as the coos turned to "I've had enough, come pay attention to me" squawks, went over to her crib.

A big huge smile spread across her face as I leaned in and gave her a big kiss. Then she squealed in delight as I raspberried her bare little feet, wet from slobber.

She laughed.

And there's nothing more wonderful than that.

Off Topic: When was the last time...

...you slept with abandon?

I was watching The Bean yesterday, happily splayed out in her Pack 'n' Play, arms up by her ears, and legs stretched, completely, ultimately, and totally relaxed. And sleeping with abandon.

(I have to write about that, I thought. Then promptly forgot it to Mommy Brain. I had to concentrate very hard last night to remember it again.)

It made me think. When was the last time I slept sprawled out and completely relaxed, not a care in the world, and none on the horizon?

I can't remember.

We'll just skip back to before The Bean was born, because sleep in this phase of her life (or any, I hear), is just non-existant. And when I do, it's with one ear open.

Even further back, I don't think, despite exhaustion, that pure, unadulterated sleep came during the pregnancy - too much to do to get ready, work, school...you name it.

I really can't remember. I really want to - either that, or experience it again, in all its glorious innocence.

It reminds me of the Friends episode where Rachel is embarassed by Phoebe's childlike running - then tries it herself, on the sly. How much better is running when you don't care what you look like or who sees you?

Exactly.

I wonder if it's even possible for us, The Adults, to find that blissful state anymore. I hope so. Sleeping with abandon is on the top of my wish list for Santa.