I'm a huge fan of the series Planet Earth that ran on the Discovery Channel. It makes you appreciate just how breathtaking the world is. It is something to be cherished. The same masterminds have now created a series called Life. With similar filming techniques and dramatic narrative (a la Oprah Winfrey this time versus Sigourney Weaver, and my vote goes to Ms. Weaver), it's just as moving as Planet Earth.
The second episode featured this poor octopus mommy. Once ready to lay her eggs, she'd slink into an underwater cave and watch over the eggs. The very last thing she does is push water over the eggs to help her babies hatch. After that? She dies. The quote that came along with that scene? "The soul of parenting is the capacity for sacrifice." Wow.
Obviously, in this quote, sacrifice references the ultimate sacrifice. As a parent, you realize that you truly would sacrifice your life for your child's. But I really started to think about the quote, and Jamie and I talked a bit about the smaller scale of this quote.
Before being a parent, you don't really need to sacrifice anything. If you'd like, you can compromise things, but I'd argue that there's really no need to sacrifice things. But as soon as that little being plants itself up in there, you immediately start sacrificing. You sacrifice your body, to begin with. And then there's sacrificing sleep. And sanity. There's giving up having a perfect living room (because no matter how hard you try, colorful plastic something-or-others are going to invade.) And no matter how hard core you are about your job, you'll either sacrifice your career a bit, or, in order to keep that on track, you may need to eat into your parent/child time.
In same cases, the sacrifices are a result of trade-offs. If you desperately still want the living room that looks like a page out of Crate and Barrel, fine. You'll just need to give up time doing something else in order to keep it orderly. Really really need that sleep and you're not caving about giving that up? Then, sorry, but you'll be sacrificing some of your marriage because that inequity probably won't go over well.
These sacrifices sound selfish in many ways, but they're the honest truth. The ultimate sacrifice? That's an obvious given. But the every day sacrifices? Having the capacity to stomach those is the true soul of parenting.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
i'm sorry, what did you say?...
For a bit, it took a good number of repeats, points, etc to get a word to sink in for Alexis. But now? She'll spit a word back at you after you say it once or twice and she knows exactly what she's saying. She's even starting to put multiple words together, which is fabulous. For my blog-baby-book's sake, and for anyone that thinks it's cute, here are a few of the things we're hearing. (They're in no specific order - I'm just running everything through my head. I'll undoubtedly forget a bunch too.)
- ubheer: up here (comes with a point at something she wants to sit on, as in, let me sit up on the couch)
- gehdown: get down (opposite of above)
- peez: please (this comes with the sign language for "more" - she somehow got them smooshed together)
- tangk-oo: thank you
- tee-tee: TV (which she'll say over and over with the remote in her hand)
- booberee: blueberry (sounds a bit like the expensive brand, Burberry)
- nana: banana
- eat: eat (duh)
- peezza!: pizza (there's always this very excited accent on the "a" part of pizza)
- muck: milk
- sipeee: sippy cup
- wagon: her red wagon
- a plethora of animals plus their associated sounds. Lion, doggy, kitty cat, sheep, deer, flamingo, ostrich, bear, etc, etc. My favorite is what the sheep says, "blaaaaaa" with her tongue hanging out. I also taught her that a skunk says, "pee-yoo"
- car: car (which says "beep beep")
- banket: blanket
And of course, there's "yes", but even more importantly, "no".
I know I've missed a bunch, and there's a new one each day, so I'd never be able to keep up.
When I would talk to other kids' parents (before I had my own), and they would say something, I'd be completely lost and have to look at their mom or dad, who would matter-of-factly tell me exactly what they meant. We now get to be that very educated interpreter.
- ubheer: up here (comes with a point at something she wants to sit on, as in, let me sit up on the couch)
- gehdown: get down (opposite of above)
- peez: please (this comes with the sign language for "more" - she somehow got them smooshed together)
- tangk-oo: thank you
- tee-tee: TV (which she'll say over and over with the remote in her hand)
- booberee: blueberry (sounds a bit like the expensive brand, Burberry)
- nana: banana
- eat: eat (duh)
- peezza!: pizza (there's always this very excited accent on the "a" part of pizza)
- muck: milk
- sipeee: sippy cup
- wagon: her red wagon
- a plethora of animals plus their associated sounds. Lion, doggy, kitty cat, sheep, deer, flamingo, ostrich, bear, etc, etc. My favorite is what the sheep says, "blaaaaaa" with her tongue hanging out. I also taught her that a skunk says, "pee-yoo"
- car: car (which says "beep beep")
- banket: blanket
And of course, there's "yes", but even more importantly, "no".
I know I've missed a bunch, and there's a new one each day, so I'd never be able to keep up.
When I would talk to other kids' parents (before I had my own), and they would say something, I'd be completely lost and have to look at their mom or dad, who would matter-of-factly tell me exactly what they meant. We now get to be that very educated interpreter.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
thank you sir, may i have another?...
At 18 months, Alexis is so much fun. With fun comes complexity.
She can run around, saying "gitchoo" (as in, "I'm going to get you"!). But, because she can walk and run like crazy, she doesn't want to be carried at all anymore. I'm not sure she fully understands just how dangerous it is for her to fling herself toward the ground while being carried. Ask me to get down, don't just jump. If we're in a parking lot though, or if its raining, or if I simply don't have the patience to walk at a snail's pace, I'm going to carry you. Even if it means I look like a fool, holding you sideways while you whine, deal with it.
Or how about feeding herself? She's doing incredibly well with the fork (more of a spork, if you will). Of course, plenty of mac n' cheese lands in her bib pouch (or lap, if mommy forgets to bring a bib along when we go out to eat, as she often does.) But ultimately, she's perfected the art to the highest capability she can have at the moment. However, if I decide that she should get some guidance, or that I need to take over the spoon to help her finish her yogurt, she gives me a hissy. "I can feed myself, damn it. Don't treat me like I'm a child."
I bring up her fun complexities, but I can quickly recall the three month old misery. Some moms say that they look back and only see the good. Not this mother. So, when I get the question that apparently every mom of a 1 to 2 year old gets, I can't help but say, "Um, no. Not right now. No." The question? "When are you going to have another?" Or, "Are you ready for your second?"
Why is that an immediate question? Is there a timeline that I'm supposed to be sticking to? While I know it's a big gap, my brother and I are 7 years apart, even that seems completely reasonable. My lady parts aren't going to shrivel up after Alexis turns 2. I'm only 27 - we have time. Not to mention, these people should instead ask, "Can you afford a second right now?" That's a more viable question. Alexis costs $800/month for daycare. Can you imagine having 2 in there? That's more then our mortgage. Yet we still couldn't have one of us stay home. We make the same amount of money - one of us stops working, then our income is cut in half.
I can appreciate the question, and I'm not bitter or angry or anything. I understand it. But it makes me feel like it's an assumption that I need to be ready for it right now. For now, Alexis can enjoy being the one and only little princess that she is.
PS - I'm not a single parent - I know Jamie has a say in this too. While he is absolutely ready right now to have a second, he fully understands the financial part. And right now, it is ultimately a financial decision.
She can run around, saying "gitchoo" (as in, "I'm going to get you"!). But, because she can walk and run like crazy, she doesn't want to be carried at all anymore. I'm not sure she fully understands just how dangerous it is for her to fling herself toward the ground while being carried. Ask me to get down, don't just jump. If we're in a parking lot though, or if its raining, or if I simply don't have the patience to walk at a snail's pace, I'm going to carry you. Even if it means I look like a fool, holding you sideways while you whine, deal with it.
Or how about feeding herself? She's doing incredibly well with the fork (more of a spork, if you will). Of course, plenty of mac n' cheese lands in her bib pouch (or lap, if mommy forgets to bring a bib along when we go out to eat, as she often does.) But ultimately, she's perfected the art to the highest capability she can have at the moment. However, if I decide that she should get some guidance, or that I need to take over the spoon to help her finish her yogurt, she gives me a hissy. "I can feed myself, damn it. Don't treat me like I'm a child."
I bring up her fun complexities, but I can quickly recall the three month old misery. Some moms say that they look back and only see the good. Not this mother. So, when I get the question that apparently every mom of a 1 to 2 year old gets, I can't help but say, "Um, no. Not right now. No." The question? "When are you going to have another?" Or, "Are you ready for your second?"
Why is that an immediate question? Is there a timeline that I'm supposed to be sticking to? While I know it's a big gap, my brother and I are 7 years apart, even that seems completely reasonable. My lady parts aren't going to shrivel up after Alexis turns 2. I'm only 27 - we have time. Not to mention, these people should instead ask, "Can you afford a second right now?" That's a more viable question. Alexis costs $800/month for daycare. Can you imagine having 2 in there? That's more then our mortgage. Yet we still couldn't have one of us stay home. We make the same amount of money - one of us stops working, then our income is cut in half.
I can appreciate the question, and I'm not bitter or angry or anything. I understand it. But it makes me feel like it's an assumption that I need to be ready for it right now. For now, Alexis can enjoy being the one and only little princess that she is.
PS - I'm not a single parent - I know Jamie has a say in this too. While he is absolutely ready right now to have a second, he fully understands the financial part. And right now, it is ultimately a financial decision.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
her dimensions...
To keep everyone posted on the size of our big little-one...
She continues to stay in the 95th+ percentile.
She is about 30 pounds and about 33 inches long.
At 18 months old, she's fitting into 2T to 3T clothes, depending on the brand.
For shoes, she's a size 6 wide, depending on the shoe (see the shoe post for more details around how picky I am about footwear).
She's no frail, petite thing, but she's proportionate and by no means too big - just a high achiever that wants to stay up in the top percentiles.
She continues to stay in the 95th+ percentile.
She is about 30 pounds and about 33 inches long.
At 18 months old, she's fitting into 2T to 3T clothes, depending on the brand.
For shoes, she's a size 6 wide, depending on the shoe (see the shoe post for more details around how picky I am about footwear).
She's no frail, petite thing, but she's proportionate and by no means too big - just a high achiever that wants to stay up in the top percentiles.
new pictures...
Hanging out in the wagon on the first nice day in a long time.
What to do if mommy gets in your way when you're watching Handy Manny...Tuesday, March 2, 2010
different, but all the same...
There are so many different kinds of people in the world, whether you're talking culture, economic status, or just plain personality. While the first two are worldly topics that could be discussed in detail, I'm sticking to the lighter side of things and am focusing on personalities. (For an interesting take on the "heavier" stuff, I'm excited to see the movie Babies, coming sometime early 2010.)
While it's not "bring your child to work" day, for some reason a little one (maybe 6 years old?) was sitting at her dad's desk, feet barely touching the ground, poofy pink coat draped over the back of the chair, and hair that spoke to the world that this chick had personality. Fine - kid at work - no big deal. But what I was amazed by was who the dad was and how they were interacting.
The dad is an anti-social, detail oriented, analytical individual that has the personality of a rock. I can talk to just about anyone, but the few interactions I've had with this person have left me silent out of lack of conversation. They were chatting away happily with dad showing her something on his computer. I noticed too that he had a big drawing (an unidentifiable crayon scribble with "Daddy" over a stick figure) taped to the side of his filing cabinet. Hmmmm...interesting.
Taking note of this and considering it as a topic for a post, I took notice of another similar situation. A senior executive, in the same unit, also has an aversion to all things social. He has perfected the art of walking and reading a book without looking up. He can walk from his desk, through the building, and out the door without running into anyone along the way. Once outside, he enjoys a smoke while still reading. The Kindle was made just for him (which he had as soon as it came out). He has an F you expression that you'll never forget, but find him on an off day, and he's actually a bit witty and definitely intelligent.
This guy, who is just about at the top of the ladder in his field, has a desk that clearly mirrors his personality. Clean, organized, and sparse with a Wall Street Journal in plain view. But also on his desk? A handmade, pink and yellow mug with a shaky, wobbly handle and oddly shaped rim. Along the side you can semi-clearly read "Dad" in washed out blue script.
Reason for sharing? There are those men or women where you can clearly say, "Wow, I'm sure they're a great parent." You can even assume that they have children, even if you have no clue if they do or not, simply because of the way they are. But then there are those people where you'd swear they could never care enough to have a kid. Those people where you think that, if they did have one, they don't have the ability to love anything anyway. But the power of a child runs deep. The "daddy's little girl" role isn't reserved for just select men - it applies to just about any father. Same with moms and their kids.
In the end, being a parent comes with loving something so dearly that you'll shed your typical "type" (even if you continue to show it to the rest of the world) and become a warm (yet vulnerable) being that will keep a crappy, ugly mug on their desk simply for the fact that your kid made it and you just should. You tape that god-awful rendition of a house with a tree and flowers to your cabinet, not to show your child that you did or to brag to the world that you're kid is the best artist in the world. You just do it because you do and you want to - hard ass personality and all.
While it's not "bring your child to work" day, for some reason a little one (maybe 6 years old?) was sitting at her dad's desk, feet barely touching the ground, poofy pink coat draped over the back of the chair, and hair that spoke to the world that this chick had personality. Fine - kid at work - no big deal. But what I was amazed by was who the dad was and how they were interacting.
The dad is an anti-social, detail oriented, analytical individual that has the personality of a rock. I can talk to just about anyone, but the few interactions I've had with this person have left me silent out of lack of conversation. They were chatting away happily with dad showing her something on his computer. I noticed too that he had a big drawing (an unidentifiable crayon scribble with "Daddy" over a stick figure) taped to the side of his filing cabinet. Hmmmm...interesting.
Taking note of this and considering it as a topic for a post, I took notice of another similar situation. A senior executive, in the same unit, also has an aversion to all things social. He has perfected the art of walking and reading a book without looking up. He can walk from his desk, through the building, and out the door without running into anyone along the way. Once outside, he enjoys a smoke while still reading. The Kindle was made just for him (which he had as soon as it came out). He has an F you expression that you'll never forget, but find him on an off day, and he's actually a bit witty and definitely intelligent.
This guy, who is just about at the top of the ladder in his field, has a desk that clearly mirrors his personality. Clean, organized, and sparse with a Wall Street Journal in plain view. But also on his desk? A handmade, pink and yellow mug with a shaky, wobbly handle and oddly shaped rim. Along the side you can semi-clearly read "Dad" in washed out blue script.
Reason for sharing? There are those men or women where you can clearly say, "Wow, I'm sure they're a great parent." You can even assume that they have children, even if you have no clue if they do or not, simply because of the way they are. But then there are those people where you'd swear they could never care enough to have a kid. Those people where you think that, if they did have one, they don't have the ability to love anything anyway. But the power of a child runs deep. The "daddy's little girl" role isn't reserved for just select men - it applies to just about any father. Same with moms and their kids.
In the end, being a parent comes with loving something so dearly that you'll shed your typical "type" (even if you continue to show it to the rest of the world) and become a warm (yet vulnerable) being that will keep a crappy, ugly mug on their desk simply for the fact that your kid made it and you just should. You tape that god-awful rendition of a house with a tree and flowers to your cabinet, not to show your child that you did or to brag to the world that you're kid is the best artist in the world. You just do it because you do and you want to - hard ass personality and all.
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