Sunday, April 21, 2013

The Art of an Easy Newborn

Newborns are easy.

They are cute little humans whose new head smell is totally addictive. They make adorable squishy nose faces and randomly smile and stare their eyes at the world long enough to tell you that they know they're not in Kansas anymore an wiggle their bodies in silly wiggly wormlike ways. They remind you that miracles exist.

Santiago is a good sleeper.  Apparently, its his favorite thing to do... in the daytime. He seems to like it more than eating or taking baths or... well, that's kind of all he does right now. But he really loves his sleep. All he wants to do is sleep during the day which makes mommy's nighttime sleep blazingly fun, like the 6 am morning walk home after an all-nighter at New York City's long since closed nightclub, The Tunnel after being awake for incredibly too long.

He likes eating. In fact, he's so good at it that he could both feed and choke at the same time.  Just for fun, I pull the bottle out when he starts to choke and lean him forward to stop him from coughing and then he doe the funniest thing... He gets mad... at me - and cries that there's no milk in his mouth. What a funny guy! I remind him that he's the one who is not focusing on this feeding thing. Then, sometimes when he's drinking his bottle he fills up so much milk in his chipmunk mouth that he is forced to spurt some out of the side of the nipple like a geyser. Nipple still in mouth, eyes shut, milk exploding out of the side, always surprising my face with little droplets of milk. Awesome!

And... I don't know who said that newborns are helpless, either because they're quite good at multi-tasking. Just this morning when I was changing Santiago he started to spit up at one end. When I went to clean his mouth... well we know what happens on the other end. And then to really multi-task, he starts to pee at the same time. Lucky for him I've already been peed at and know better. That and I have quick catlike reflexes and have figured out the best way to change his incredibly expensive circumcised penis with the lowest percentage of getting peed on. Like the saying goes, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Anyway. That little sucker can definitely multi-task.

Last night when I was getting Santiago's bath/bottle/bedtime ready, I had to put him down. I couldn't get his pajamas out, close the windows, turn down the curtains, set his bed, pull out his diaper, set up his bottle, and carry him at the same time so I had put him down. And then my sweet boy decided to serenade me with his version of Melissa Manchester's Don't Cry Out Loud. Oh did he cry out loud... belted it, actually. Maybe choir is in his future. He sang so loud for me that he turned so red he looked purple. Beautiful voice.

Newborns are... oh wait, did I say easy?
Oh.
No, no. I meant hard.
Newborns are hard.

Santiago at his favorite past time



Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Sketch Yourself Beautiful

When I was student teaching a number of years back I wanted to be a part of a club that another teacher was forming called the Girls' Leadership Group. We started with only 8th grade girls and chose about 30 to join the group. Some girls we chose because they were confident. Some girls we chose because they needed confidence. Some girls were athletes. Some were academics. Some were leaders. Some were followers.

The point of the club was to start a conversation. This was a place where they could do some good for others through fundraisers and projects, a place for them to meet women who were just like them once and who are now successful, smart, savvy, beautiful, funny, and good people - and a place where they could learn that YES - you could be all of those things not just one of those things. But mostly this was a place where we could foster, support, and encourage girls. GLG became a place where we could talk openly and privately about how they, at this critical and confusing age, felt about so many confusing things: where they fit in, their place in the world, how they perceive themselves, their looks, their "status."

It was such an eye opener. And not in the best of ways. It made me realize how much there was to get done in the way of building up our girls.

Last night, I watched a short video created by Dove that reminded me of these girls and the reason I wanted to be a part of GLG. Being the mother of a daughter now it slaps me even harder:
We as women HAVE to change the way we see ourselves if we want our daughters and our girls to change the way they see themselves.  
We can't expect girls to find their own beauty if we are still looking for our own.  
We can't tell girls to be confident and believe in themselves if we find our own confidence from others' opinions or media. 



As was the point in the Girls' Leadership Group, so is the point here: to start a conversation. 

Why do we feel there is one barometer to define beauty when it comes to ourselves but not when it comes to others? Why do we allow ourselves to downplay our beautifulness?

We are harder on ourselves than other people are on us. We give others the room to be beautiful and unique when we won't give ourselves an inch.

We often want to change ourselves to fit our idea of beauty. We describe, we respond to characteristics that we wear so differently than we do when other people wear them.

When others have a gap in their teeth we say it gives them character. When others have a different nose we say it fits her face, it makes her beautiful. When others have a mole we say it adds uniqueness. When others have a large mouth we say their smile brightens the room.

Don't believe me?

Laura Hutton, a model from the 1970's. Her trademark? The gap in her teeth.

Anna Paquin known for the same thing...

Baaaarbara Streisand. Her trademark "imperfection?" Her nose. 

This big grin belongs to Julia Roberts. The famous million dollar smile...

And of course the famous mole that made Cindy Crawford famous.

Why can we look at these women and find beauty but not find it within ourselves or on our own bodies?

Today think about you and all of the beautiful things that make you you. Think about your greying hair, your small mouth, your long legs, your skinny ankles, your wide hips, your small fingers, your non six-packed belly, your pinky toe nail that never grew right, your imperfect teeth, your thin eyebrows, your scarred knees, your bunion on your left foot.

Now think about how all of those things are beautiful. Think about how if your best friend had any one of these things you would cherish her and call her beautiful. Think about how if your daughter looked like this, you would stil throw rose petals at her feet. And then transfer those feelings to yourself. Remember how harshly you could judge yourself and then choose not too.

We need so much more kindness in this world. Acceptance. LOVE. Why not start with yourself? Why not sketch yourself beautiful?

What is your imperfection that you will love today?




Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Love Letter to Rafa

What has recently occurred to me, that is hitting me like a Jersey Strong fist pump to the face is that with Mr. Baby Santiago joining the clan, I am no longer just the mother of one. Having one child almost seemed like a novelty, but two... that's a taller order.

In the last few days with just Rafa I had been preparing myself for her not being our only child. Our "baby." She will look so much bigger, she will share our love with another, she will be part of a two pack. A sister. The older sister.

But I didn't prepare for this...

I already knew I loved her. I just didn't know how much. And after yesterday's horrible tragedy in Boston, I find it appropriate to gush over my first born in her first love letter.


 Dear Rafa,

Before we knew you were a girl, I had a dream. I dreamt of this little face and a pair of soulful eyes staring at me, puckering her little mouth. I was looking at you, looking at me. It was a familiar image. Years before, when your Tia was pregnant with her first child, I dreamt of that same little face, soulful eyes, and puckering mouth. What I didn't know then was that I wasn't looking at her child, I was looking at mine.

And then you arrived. Perfect. You were perfect. 10 fingers. 10 toes. Healthy appetite. Strong willed. Strong. A beautiful little creature that God placed in my hands Friday night, October 7. (Do you think that was God's way of being funny - sending you on a Friday night after a lifetime of very different kinds of Friday nights?) 

When I looked at you in those first few moments I knew that you were mine. It was the first of many times that your Abuelita would ask me Did you know that you would have such a beautiful daughter? And I always answer Yes. No need to tell anyone else that we had already met, you & I.

And with all of that certainty snuck in a bit of doubt...

I was not sure about you. We didn't have the easiest first few weeks and I wasn't sure about you. It was as if 20 pounds of pregnant belly got taken over by 20 pounds of doubt. Sometimes the doubt was so thick that I would cry. Cry quietly. Cry to myself. I wasn't sure that I knew how to be a mother, that I had made a smart decision about having children. Was I cut out for this? Was I strong enough for this? What was I thinking? I didn't know how to be a mother. And then it came to me...
It wasn't you that I wasn't sure about. It was me. 
I tell you that I had doubts so that I could tell you that those doubts no longer exist. That everyday I look at you at some point and am transported to a place of thankfulness and gratitude. My very heart fills and lifts and flies through the clouds and wants to give God a great big hug for allowing you to exist. And then for allowing you to exist in my life. I see now what true love creates. And when I look at you, I realize how truly your father and I must love each other.

I can't stand to watch you dancing with your father because your cuteness is too much. Carefree and full of nothing but elation, you throw your head back and allow him to spin you and dip you and enjoy every single moment in his arms. And when the music ends you ask for Mas (More). Music seems to fill your eyes with joy,  like you were born in between the notes. Asking us to sing mas (more). Telling the radio to play mas (more). Dancing feet, bobbing head, bending knees, hands clapping.


You are exactly the girl for me. Sweet and affectionate the way you love your brother and give him kisses like you have been waiting for him to get here. You have a million flirty faces and pretty girl smiles but are tough as concrete walls. You bang your head, fall and skid your knee and keep moving. You could cry if you want and I'd pick you up and kiss your knee and hold you tight but you don't. You pick yourself up and dust yourself off. I love that about you.


Even more than your toughness is your sillyness. You make me laugh daily even when you're not trying. And when you laugh that big laugh with those pearly teeth it makes me melt. And I love making you laugh. You wear so many different hats... no literally. You love wearing hats which makes me laugh because they're too big for you but you look absolutely adorable.





And smart. Like genius smart. You pick things up so quickly. Words, concepts, actions. I love the way you lick your finger to turn the page of a book because you've seen us do that. I love the way you open a book and carefully look through it like you're reading it because you've seen us do that. I love that you run your naked self to the bedroom to say goodnight to me and then to the bathroom because you know it's bath time. I love the way you say I love you. I dub do.  We'll have to be careful of what else you pick up from us.


Even your tantrums have become endearing. Don't get me wrong, they suck when they're happening, but after you're done you come to us wanting hugs and to be held like your way of saying sorry. And I take the apologies openly. I get a small enjoyment from these hugs through your tears, from knowing you want me to hold you and make you safe and tell you its ok. When you climb "up" on my lap and want to watch "photos" (which are actually videos), I sneak smells of your hair and give your neck mini kisses. I can't help it.

Your easygoing nature is not lost on me. I am aware that as babies go, you don't have to be this easy. I'm reminded of this by friends who inform me that our choice of having a second baby so soon was made possible by the fact that you are as easy as you are. You sleep like a bear. And to make matters better, it's like you know that with Baby Santiago here your family needs more rest and have decided to sleep more than ever. You eat like a champion. We don't have to tell you when to eat. We don't even have to force what you eat. I don't have to make choo choo train sounds with the fork or fly the spoon like an airplane for you. You beam and jump for Christmas morning joy at even the mention of eating.

I have never thanked anyone for showing me that I was wrong but I thank you for showing me that I was. I do know how to be a mom. Your mom.

I am guilty of imagining everything the world will offer you because of everything you have to offer the world. Will you be a baker? A photographer? An athlete? A change maker? A humanitarian? It doens't even matter. I will love you every moment of everyday for ever and even more than that no matter what you are because at the very core you will always be my daughter and that will always be enough.













Monday, April 15, 2013

The Quick Soap Opera Recap


If my life were a soap opera, the quick soap opera recap conversation with Samantha McCall from General Hospital (my self chosen soap opera BFF) would sound like this:

Sam: Jen. Wow! Congratulations on your new baby boy. Santiago Paulo was born healthy on March 22 at 8lb. 1 oz and 20..5 inches, right? You look great but, gosh, your husband, Mike must have been a little worried since the planned c-setion had a few complications for you, huh?  
Me: Yeah. Luckily, the complications weren't anything life threatening and we were home with our little Santiago and his big sister Rafaella in a few days.

What I love about soap opera conversation is that many months' worth of information has been divulged within a few fully packed sentences. Like the gabby, intellectual teenage characters of Dawson's Creek, you wonder Does anyone actually talk like this?

No.

But it has its usefulness. Sometimes, like in a soap opera, you don't have time to craft a beautifully written piece because there's so much to catch up on. You just gotta get the information out there so that you could create the stories that follow.

So here's what you should have walked away with in my soap opera conversation with Sam McCall:
  1. I had a baby a few weeks ago.
  2. The baby was a boy named Santiago.
  3. I am married to Mike.
  4. I had a few minor complicatations with a planned c-section.
  5. We have another child.
  6. Our other child is a girl.
  7. Her name is Rafaella. 

It is intense how quickly life moves. In my last post, I was awaiting the arrival of Little B(oy) and now Little B, Santiago, is with us - waking us up at night, sleeping all day, and peeing on everyone. In other words, he's perfect and just as he should be.

It is exactly as I remembered it. Well, kinda. Your mind has a funny way of blocking out the misery of the first few months of NewbornDom by implanting the iconic, movie moments of smelling his sweet head and his mily breath and staring at him when he's peacefully sleeping and deeply breathing. I believe this is the mind's way of protecting you from your thoughts, of helping you to go through another newborn even through all of it's hardships and breeeeathe reminders and moments of zombielike, blurry eyed motions. Get through today. Get through tonight. 

Now I remember why I don't remember the first 6 weeks of Rafaella, I sleepwalked through all of it straight into Dreamland where reality is 18 years and a 2oz feeding away. 

Luckily, I have General Hospital to bring me back to reality. 


And I must say... I'm excited to get back to Drinking... 
the Whole Bottle, that is.