33 1/3

My littlest friend,

I saw a woman the other day at the drugstore who was both physically and mentally handicapped. I immediately started holding back tears. My first thought was how tough her life must be and how unfair it was that some people have such a heavy cross to bear in this life while others float by with relatively trivial problems (only a few gems missing from their tiara). My second thought was how brave and resilient this woman was to navigate a world so rough around the edges with calm and grace and endless polite "thank you"s. But it was my third thought that brings me to this letter to you on your 4 month birthday, the day that you are 33 1/3 percent through your first year of life. The third thing I thought to myself was "thank God my baby is okay".

I cant even imagine the heavy heart I would carry every day if I knew that your future would be an endless struggle with countless impossibilities and daily obstacles. Unfortunately our society is full of ignorant people who only see a cover rather than a whole book. And I cant imagine a life where your childhood will be filled with looks of pity and sarcastic jokes at your expense. As the tears well over thinking of how lucky I am to have you--a healthy, happy, beautiful girl--I remind myself that there are so many lessons I need to teach you. And the one for your fourth month is this.....be kind. Be grateful and compassionate. Be understanding and honorable. Be the kind of person that has a full heart and the patience to get to know the entire book rather than judging the cover.

Its not always easy to be that person. But I hope that your dad and I, and the rest of your family, can help you to build a strength of character that can withstand the peer pressure to come. I hope we can instill in you a confidence that allows you to follow through with what is right, even if its hard or unpopular. I hope you become a friend to a whole variety of people and discover how our differences can make us even more interesting and worthwhile than our similarities.

The point is, I hope you will be good. Not just the kind of child who is well behaved in the grocery store, says excuse me when she burps, and covers her mouth when she coughs, but also the kind of person who carries a pure heart, a friendly smile, and a helping hand. This is my wish for you on your 4 month birthday. A tall order for a little babe, I know, but Im pretty sure you are already learning that your smile can lift up the heaviest of hearts and make the most stressful days a little less gray. So just keep smiling for now, we'll work on the helping hands later.

I love you,

Momma

At Wits End

After months of just not being able to put my finger on it, I finally realized what it is about parenthood that has me reeling....Ive lost control of my life.

Before I was a mother I was a lot of things. I was a steady, dedicated and (mostly) hardworking employee. I made time for Kake and I's weekly date night. I called my mom almost everyday and never flaked on plans with friends unless I had a really good reason like a contagion or lack of transportation. I treated my body like a temple--well, maybe more like A-class office space--with near daily workouts, surgeon general reccommended 7-8 hours of nightly sleep, monthly pedicures, quarterly hair highlights, and multi-step skin regimens. My biggest vice was ice cream and gummy bears while my house was clean and smelled of fresh linen or pumpkin or mistletoe. Flowers were planted and replanted to signal the passing of each new season and there was always some home improvement, decoration, or cooking project in danger of being crossed off the to-do list.

In the days and months and years before motherhood, I was it all. I was a wife and daughter, a friend, neighbor, coworker and book club member. I was a landscaper and dishwasher, cook and seamstress. And perhaps most importantly I was a glass half full. Every obstacle had a bright side, every tunnel a light, every cloud a silver lining. But now I am only momma. And while some may say that is enough, I cant bring myself to agree.

Its a sobering experience to realize that I could (largely) gracefully juggle all of those aforementioned hats and yet my head spins while trying to provide life's basic necessities to child who weighs as much as my right thigh and is newer than most of my underwear. The 90 mph needed to keep up with this new title of momma is fueled by complaints, anxiety, stress, and a glass that is perpetually half empty, obstacles that seem insurmountable, dark tunnels and black clouds. Every day I am convinced that this will be the day all the baby books and parenting magazines talk about...when things get easier. And everyday I fall into bed with a dream left unrealized.

And while I patiently wait, red pen in hand, to make that final "X" on a calendar of hard days, I realize that its up to me to change this gloom and doom attitude that has overtaken my usually cheery demenour as of late. Its up to me to regain control of my life, one title at a time. And while that seems downright impossible if I plan to get any sleep whatsoever, apparently other people fulfill the role of momma and a few other hats every day, so it must be doable, right? So now I must decide which title to reinstate first. Lucky for me, theres three feet of snow slowly melting outside so I think "landscaper" can hide out safely on the list a little while longer. Im guessing I should probably regain the role of wife first because without Kake's support, I dont think I can accomplish all the rest. So while I cant promise days rife with puppy dogs and rainbows, I can assure you (and by you I mean the self that I write this to) that from here on out my glass will be half full and really, to me, thats a good start.