Last night seemed like the longest of my life. Longer than the 4 months spent waiting for our wedding. Longer than the 9 months spent pregnant. Way longer than the 4 years in high school. Lately I've had some problems with getting Penelope to sleep at a decent hour. I know babies don't have schedules - they're babies! - but they definitely need their sleep. And getting to sleep after 2am every night was beginning to wear on me. The last two weeks my depression has flared vehemently. I've felt in turn inadequate, stupid, powerless and ill-equipped at being a mother. Jason has done what he can but he has to get up early for work and four hours of sleep doesn't work well for him either. So she and I rock while watching Animal Planet at 1am. And all the frustration at being the only one awake to deal with this soon transmorphs into resentment that I'm doing this alone. Which, of course, is not the case at all. But a sleep-lacking brain cannot be reasoned with.
So after a few nights of crying myself to sleep, Jason and I decided we would start Penny on a sleep schedule sooner than the book recommended 4 months. First we tried laying with her in the bed with us. It was about 9:30pm and she wiggled and fussed until 10:30. She was still hungry so I fed her and laid her back down. And still she wiggled. And still I cried in frustration. So Jason made the executive decision. We put her in her crib in the nursery at 11pm, turned on the baby monitor, closed the door and watched The Adventures of Pluto Nash. Not a movie I'd recommend for just any occasion but for trying to ignore the heart-breaking screams coming from the other room, it did an OK job.
She screamed and cried for an hour and a half. And I sat cuddled in Jason's arms and cried with her. It wasn't her crying that broke my heart. It was the fact that I had to let her cry. She had to cry it out and learn to soothe herself. A very hard lesson for a 3 month old to learn and an even harder one for her 28 year old mother to accept.
Morning came even sooner than I thought it would and I could hardly believe I had actually slept. Penny woke about 8:30am, all smiles and coos. She went down for her morning nap early and slept three hours. She ate again, we played and then she went back down for her afternoon nap. Two naps! Without fuss! It may have been the longest night of my life but apparently it was worth it.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
12 weeks
Dear Penelope,
You're staring at me from your bouncy chair as I write this and every time I look at you I can't believe how much you've grown. This week you turned 12 weeks old. Twelve whole weeks you've been in this world and you're already such a pro. It breaks my heart sometimes to see you getting so big already. At your last doctor's appointment you had grown 5 inches and gained almost 5 lbs since you were born. You've outgrown all of your newborn clothes and are filling out those munchable cheeks wonderfully.
You've started to talk - a delightful cooing that makes Dad and me come running whenever we hear it. First thing in the mornings you love to tell me all about your night. Sometimes you're so busy talking that you don't want to eat until you've told me everything. Daddy's teaching you to say I love you and you're getting really good at it. You've got all the pauses down and it comes out Ah gaah oooo. We've tried getting pictures of you doing this and even tried video taping it but you become enamored with the camera the second you see it and all communications cease. You've also started smiling on your own. It is truly one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. You and I spend most of the day just smiling at each other.
We have a morning routine and you can hardly wait once you hear the music for The Price is Right knowing that it's time to come on down! We watch that every morning during breakfast and you love it. I've starting reading books to you and you listen quietly until I ask you a question about the story. Most every word comes out goo but we figure that just means you're smart. What's a cow say? Goo. What does the ghost say? Goo. What letter does Grover start with? Goo. You're so smart I'm convinced you'll find a cure for cancer or a way to get Firefly back on television.
We think you're going through a growth spurt right now because our normally very sweet and calm child disappears and becomes a wiggly, cranky wiggly monkey wiggling. Did I mention you get wiggly? Really wiggly. You wiggle so much you have thrown yourself out of my arms a time or two. And it probably doesn't help matters that you might have begun teething. Not only are you uber-wiggly, you're also slobbery. SO slobbery. Your hands are constantly wet to the elbows and I have to remember to mop up your face on a regular basis or your cheeks get red. I swear you must be some kind of super bionic baby because who's ever heard of a three month old getting teeth? But teeth or no, there's no doubt in my mind that you're special. And oh so smart. Sometimes there's only one thing that will make you calm down once you're screaming and, oddly enough, it's me singing to you. You love Dolly Parton, The Monkees and anything sung by a Muppet. Your special favorite right now is Rainbow Connection. Half a verse into that and you're staring at me like I'm Kermit himself.
Daddy blessed you in Sacrament Meeting on January 3, 2010. He did a wonderful job and Grandma and Grandpa Turley were here from Phoenix. They spoiled you rotten. You just loved all the extra attention they gave you and showed off how awesome you are at every turn. Grandma was even threatening to take you back home with her. I reminded her that she had to work every day and that I'd just take care of you for now - at least until she retired.
Your looks have changed from that of a newborn to an infant. Your belly and cheeks are nicely rounded and your hair is getting longer every day. Most days it looks gingery and I really hope it stays that way. I'd love for you to be a redhead. But one thing about your looks is for sure - you look like your Daddy. The consensus seems to be you look like Jason in a dress. Some times it's almost scary. A tilt of your head or a face that screams Yes you're his and not the milkman's. It's amazing to see him in you.
Love, Mama
You're staring at me from your bouncy chair as I write this and every time I look at you I can't believe how much you've grown. This week you turned 12 weeks old. Twelve whole weeks you've been in this world and you're already such a pro. It breaks my heart sometimes to see you getting so big already. At your last doctor's appointment you had grown 5 inches and gained almost 5 lbs since you were born. You've outgrown all of your newborn clothes and are filling out those munchable cheeks wonderfully.
You've started to talk - a delightful cooing that makes Dad and me come running whenever we hear it. First thing in the mornings you love to tell me all about your night. Sometimes you're so busy talking that you don't want to eat until you've told me everything. Daddy's teaching you to say I love you and you're getting really good at it. You've got all the pauses down and it comes out Ah gaah oooo. We've tried getting pictures of you doing this and even tried video taping it but you become enamored with the camera the second you see it and all communications cease. You've also started smiling on your own. It is truly one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. You and I spend most of the day just smiling at each other.
We have a morning routine and you can hardly wait once you hear the music for The Price is Right knowing that it's time to come on down! We watch that every morning during breakfast and you love it. I've starting reading books to you and you listen quietly until I ask you a question about the story. Most every word comes out goo but we figure that just means you're smart. What's a cow say? Goo. What does the ghost say? Goo. What letter does Grover start with? Goo. You're so smart I'm convinced you'll find a cure for cancer or a way to get Firefly back on television.
We think you're going through a growth spurt right now because our normally very sweet and calm child disappears and becomes a wiggly, cranky wiggly monkey wiggling. Did I mention you get wiggly? Really wiggly. You wiggle so much you have thrown yourself out of my arms a time or two. And it probably doesn't help matters that you might have begun teething. Not only are you uber-wiggly, you're also slobbery. SO slobbery. Your hands are constantly wet to the elbows and I have to remember to mop up your face on a regular basis or your cheeks get red. I swear you must be some kind of super bionic baby because who's ever heard of a three month old getting teeth? But teeth or no, there's no doubt in my mind that you're special. And oh so smart. Sometimes there's only one thing that will make you calm down once you're screaming and, oddly enough, it's me singing to you. You love Dolly Parton, The Monkees and anything sung by a Muppet. Your special favorite right now is Rainbow Connection. Half a verse into that and you're staring at me like I'm Kermit himself.
Daddy blessed you in Sacrament Meeting on January 3, 2010. He did a wonderful job and Grandma and Grandpa Turley were here from Phoenix. They spoiled you rotten. You just loved all the extra attention they gave you and showed off how awesome you are at every turn. Grandma was even threatening to take you back home with her. I reminded her that she had to work every day and that I'd just take care of you for now - at least until she retired.
Your looks have changed from that of a newborn to an infant. Your belly and cheeks are nicely rounded and your hair is getting longer every day. Most days it looks gingery and I really hope it stays that way. I'd love for you to be a redhead. But one thing about your looks is for sure - you look like your Daddy. The consensus seems to be you look like Jason in a dress. Some times it's almost scary. A tilt of your head or a face that screams Yes you're his and not the milkman's. It's amazing to see him in you.
Love, Mama
never ever
Growing up I used to babysit a lot. And I mean A LOT. I had at least 7 kids who knew that if they saw me at the door they were in for a fun night without the parents. I was the cool sitter - laid back, easy going and the only rules I strictly enforced had to do with safety. No running with sharp objects. No jumping off the couch onto your little sister's head. No sticking forks in the outlets. You know, the basics. I knew that when I became a parent I wanted to have the same devil may care attitude. And yet, I knew there were going to be some rules I'd follow without question. Rule #1 would be Remain Adaptable. Babies don't have schedules. You can't always be punctual when dealing with an infant. So Rule #1 is the most important. Rule #3 is Never Wake a Sleeping Baby. Unless there's a house fire or natural disaster, I don't see any reason to wake a baby who is already asleep. Madness I tell you! Just enjoy the time they're asleep because it won't last. Rule #2, in my mind, is almost as important as Rule #1. So much so that it might as well be called Rule #1.1. It's the one I have the most prejudice about when I see other parents breaking it. I think mean and hateful thoughts in the general direction of these rule-breaking so-called parents. I have even been known to express this opinion loudly to said parents.
And Friday I broke Rule #2. Yes, I took a baby to the movies.
In the past I have been in many, many movies where a child of any age does not belong and yet some oblivious parent decided to save a few bucks on a sitter and take them to the theater anyway. Oh the madness! There's crying and whining and questions on end. And that's just on my part. I swore that I would never EVER take my child to the movies until they were old enough to watch it. Instead, at 11 weeks old, Penny saw her first movie - Avatar. Yes, now you may understand why I did it. The story line was so-so but the cinematography was stunning. Especially in IMAX 3D.
And my child made a fool out of me. I was prepared beforehand to spend the three hours sitting in the lobby while Jason finished the movie. I was willing and ready to do so if necessary. Half way through I realized this was definitely our child. She's already a movie buff. She sat on my lap, watching the screen for about 2 hours. The rest of the time she slept. She only fussed when I was stupid enough to try and shift her and she couldn't see the screen. So there we sat, her entranced, me eating Red Vines, while we walked through a virtual outer space forest. She was so good I would even consider taking her again.
I guess I should have just remembered Rule #1. All that's left to say is some kind of stupid cliche about rules and breaking...
And Friday I broke Rule #2. Yes, I took a baby to the movies.
In the past I have been in many, many movies where a child of any age does not belong and yet some oblivious parent decided to save a few bucks on a sitter and take them to the theater anyway. Oh the madness! There's crying and whining and questions on end. And that's just on my part. I swore that I would never EVER take my child to the movies until they were old enough to watch it. Instead, at 11 weeks old, Penny saw her first movie - Avatar. Yes, now you may understand why I did it. The story line was so-so but the cinematography was stunning. Especially in IMAX 3D.
And my child made a fool out of me. I was prepared beforehand to spend the three hours sitting in the lobby while Jason finished the movie. I was willing and ready to do so if necessary. Half way through I realized this was definitely our child. She's already a movie buff. She sat on my lap, watching the screen for about 2 hours. The rest of the time she slept. She only fussed when I was stupid enough to try and shift her and she couldn't see the screen. So there we sat, her entranced, me eating Red Vines, while we walked through a virtual outer space forest. She was so good I would even consider taking her again.
I guess I should have just remembered Rule #1. All that's left to say is some kind of stupid cliche about rules and breaking...
Friday, January 1, 2010
3 things for the new year
Resolutions have never been my strong suit. Every year I vow I will be thin and feather-light by summer vacation and every year I end up digging though my old t-shirts for one to wear over a swimsuit. So this year I decided to me more realistic with my goals.
1) I want to be more patient. As a general rule, I am not a patient person. Becoming a mom has opened up this wealth of understanding and patience that I honestly didn't know I possessed. Penny is a dream child but she still has her trying moments. Like when she threw up all over me tonight after she'd finished her feeding. And I mean ALL over me. And the couch. And herself. I've learned that all you can do at that point is to laugh. Oh, and a bath helps too. But I recognize that this is my baby. No matter what she does I am enamored of her. Instead I need to extend my patience to the rest of the world around me. That way the next time someone is quickly devouring what's left of my very short fuse, I can laugh. And maybe suggest they take a bath.
2) I want to be healthier. A few years back I had a very dear friend agree to be my personal trainer. After six months I was in the best shape of my life. It wasn't just that I had lost 30 lbs. It was that I had confidence in myself and the way I looked. I could bench press 70 lbs and didn't think twice about having dessert. I want that back.
3) I want to be more open. I want to embrace new experiences and not be afraid to try something -worried that the outcome will be different than I expect. I don't want the fear of the unknown to rule my life. I want to stare into the whirling eyes of Change and not blink. If I can do that then maybe I'll be able to see the wonderful opportunities that are out there, waiting.
1) I want to be more patient. As a general rule, I am not a patient person. Becoming a mom has opened up this wealth of understanding and patience that I honestly didn't know I possessed. Penny is a dream child but she still has her trying moments. Like when she threw up all over me tonight after she'd finished her feeding. And I mean ALL over me. And the couch. And herself. I've learned that all you can do at that point is to laugh. Oh, and a bath helps too. But I recognize that this is my baby. No matter what she does I am enamored of her. Instead I need to extend my patience to the rest of the world around me. That way the next time someone is quickly devouring what's left of my very short fuse, I can laugh. And maybe suggest they take a bath.
2) I want to be healthier. A few years back I had a very dear friend agree to be my personal trainer. After six months I was in the best shape of my life. It wasn't just that I had lost 30 lbs. It was that I had confidence in myself and the way I looked. I could bench press 70 lbs and didn't think twice about having dessert. I want that back.
3) I want to be more open. I want to embrace new experiences and not be afraid to try something -worried that the outcome will be different than I expect. I don't want the fear of the unknown to rule my life. I want to stare into the whirling eyes of Change and not blink. If I can do that then maybe I'll be able to see the wonderful opportunities that are out there, waiting.
Monday, December 21, 2009
8 weeks
Dear Penelope,
Today you turned 8 weeks old and already it's hard to remember a time when you weren't a part of our lives. The days have been long and the nights sometimes longer but I have never felt so fulfilled as I have being your mother.
The first few weeks of your life were probably the hardest of mine. Not only was I trying to figure out the schedule of a newborn, keep you fed, happy and warm, but then my breast milk wasn't working the way it should. You would nurse for sometimes an hour on one side and still be famished and we'd have to give you formula. I wanted so much to be able to breastfeed but I just didn't have the milk supply. I felt like I had failed you somehow. The one thing I was MADE to do and it wasn't working. At feeding times you would latch on perfectly then cry because you weren't getting any food. You'd cry. Then I'd cry. And there we'd be, cuddled in bed, crying. I didn't care so much about the fact that we had to feed you formula. It was the disappointment of knowing I couldn't provide you with something so basic. But I know that it's not where it comes from that matters as long as you're growing and healthy. So now you're strictly bottle-fed. There is much less crying on both our parts and you're getting the sweet chubby cheeks that I love to munch on.
You have the sweetest disposition of any baby I've ever known. You fuss when you're poopy or hungry. The rest of the time you love to eat your fingers and coo at the ceiling. We're still not sure who you're talking to when you do that but you smile and laugh so I think it's probably someone awesome. You love the Christmas tree lights, sleeping with your arms over your head and when Daddy gets your tongue. Baths have also become a favorite pastime. Whenever your diaper has a blowout, you and I climb into the tub. You lay back and stretch your body out as long as it will go. We splash water on your belly and you begin to get a dreamy look on your face. We're starting to think you have the diaper disasters on purpose just so we have to take a bath.
Last week we went to have pictures taken at the mall. I had tried to time it so that you'd be asleep for the process but you were awake the whole time. You didn't cry or fuss, just let the photographer position you this way and that, trying for the perfect shot. She kept trying to get you to have any expression other than the mellow one you were sporting. She'd cluck at you and jostle your legs to get you to smile and you'd just look at her. Then for her troubles you decided to pee on the blanket. That's my girl.
Every time we go out I am flooded with compliments about you - that you're beautiful, adorable, sweet, calm, clever and cunning. You are all of these things. You truly are a blessing that has come into our lives.
Love, Mama
Today you turned 8 weeks old and already it's hard to remember a time when you weren't a part of our lives. The days have been long and the nights sometimes longer but I have never felt so fulfilled as I have being your mother.
The first few weeks of your life were probably the hardest of mine. Not only was I trying to figure out the schedule of a newborn, keep you fed, happy and warm, but then my breast milk wasn't working the way it should. You would nurse for sometimes an hour on one side and still be famished and we'd have to give you formula. I wanted so much to be able to breastfeed but I just didn't have the milk supply. I felt like I had failed you somehow. The one thing I was MADE to do and it wasn't working. At feeding times you would latch on perfectly then cry because you weren't getting any food. You'd cry. Then I'd cry. And there we'd be, cuddled in bed, crying. I didn't care so much about the fact that we had to feed you formula. It was the disappointment of knowing I couldn't provide you with something so basic. But I know that it's not where it comes from that matters as long as you're growing and healthy. So now you're strictly bottle-fed. There is much less crying on both our parts and you're getting the sweet chubby cheeks that I love to munch on.
You have the sweetest disposition of any baby I've ever known. You fuss when you're poopy or hungry. The rest of the time you love to eat your fingers and coo at the ceiling. We're still not sure who you're talking to when you do that but you smile and laugh so I think it's probably someone awesome. You love the Christmas tree lights, sleeping with your arms over your head and when Daddy gets your tongue. Baths have also become a favorite pastime. Whenever your diaper has a blowout, you and I climb into the tub. You lay back and stretch your body out as long as it will go. We splash water on your belly and you begin to get a dreamy look on your face. We're starting to think you have the diaper disasters on purpose just so we have to take a bath.
Last week we went to have pictures taken at the mall. I had tried to time it so that you'd be asleep for the process but you were awake the whole time. You didn't cry or fuss, just let the photographer position you this way and that, trying for the perfect shot. She kept trying to get you to have any expression other than the mellow one you were sporting. She'd cluck at you and jostle your legs to get you to smile and you'd just look at her. Then for her troubles you decided to pee on the blanket. That's my girl.
Every time we go out I am flooded with compliments about you - that you're beautiful, adorable, sweet, calm, clever and cunning. You are all of these things. You truly are a blessing that has come into our lives.
Love, Mama
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