Becoming a good mom, one hour at a time
The other morning I was sitting on the floor, playing with Kiwi. I snuggled in close to her, ruffling her downy hair with my nose.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Then I looked up at Peeper, who was drinking milk at the table.
“Psst,” I started. She looked at me. “I love you.”
Peeper set her glass down.
“Now can I have a popsicle?”
And that’s how I know the value of my love: It is preschooler leverage to get dessert.
Kiwi and I are pretty much obsessed with each other these days.
I fell in love with my baby the instant I met her. Hell, I loved her from the moment I saw that telltale + on the stick I peed on. But this last month, when Kiwi turned 9 months, has brought our mutual adoration to a whole new level.
Take, for example, the moment I arrive home and walk in the door. As soon as Kiwi hears my voice, she squeals at a pitch high enough to make poor Finn flinch. Then she crawls toward me as fast as she can as a quadruped. She won’t stop until she’s in my arms.
And when I lift her up, I feel as if I’ve regained some essential part of myself. Read more
This guest post comes from Selena Maestas, an integrative nutritionist who is super-serious about helping women accept, love and cherish themselves—as they are. Her Love YOU More Project is inspiring women across the internet to adopt radical self-love. In this Happy Mother’s Day to Me series, Selena and a whole slew of mothers are celebrating themselves for the dedicated, loving, tireless mamas they are. Check out all the posts in the series!
Selena,
You are an amazing woman who has been through so much. You don’t like to complain or whine about what has happened, because without it, you wouldn’t be YOU. You wouldn’t be who you are today. You wouldn’t have the insight and knowledge to help women the way you do.
But it still hurts.
And you cry. A lot.
As strong as you are, you are still soft. You are full of emotion.
Tears are just your way.
Feeling is something you embrace.
You’ve learned that if you don’t feel it, it will eat you alive.
You used to hide those feelings.
You used to conform to what others expected of you and demanded of you. In fact, you lost yourself so deep, that you become physically ill.
But guess what?
What did that teach you?
It taught you to BE YOU. No matter what people think. Read more
I haven’t been this thrilled with Kiwi getting older since, well, she was born.
Six months marks a watershed in her short life.
Most important in her development, of course, was the sleep training. Kiwi transformed from a sleep-shunning infant who never slept longer than two hours at a time to a Ferber-ized champ who puts herself to sleep (no more bouncing!!) and snoozes for up to six hours at a go.
Getting more sleep means I feel less like a hollowed out shell of myself—and means I get to enjoy this dumpling much, much more.
If the first month of Kiwi’s life was figuring out what the heck we were doing with our newly expanded family, the second month has been about getting to know this beautiful, engaging, curious tiny person.
I can’t get enough of her.
I memorize the locations of the freckles on her head. Before too long, her hair will grow longer and I’ll never see them again.
I admire the delicate curves of her ears. They remind me of the swirl of a seashell or the whorl of a knot on a tree.
I feel her gentle breath on my skin as she breathes in and out.
I know the telltale fussiness that tells me she needs to burp (which is different from her tired, hungry or overwhelmed fussiness). And I can feel the burp inside her before it bubbles up. (“Good burp!” Peeper congratulates her every time.)
About a month ago, I tooted my own horn spoke the truth about how I am a really, really good mother. Well, the same goes for Eric, my forever person and father to our wonderful Peeper and Kiwi.
I know him well enough to be fairly certain that he’ll feel all embarrassed by this post (just as he was extremely awkward when I shared with the world that he’d been awarded the educator of the week—something especially noteworthy, I think, because he teaches special ed and this is his first year as full-time teacher. Heck yeah, I’m proud!). But he can just deal, because I’m going to sing his praises anyway!
Ten ways Eric is a wonderful father barely scratches the surface, but these reasons give a glimpse into how lucky our family is to have him. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in the crazy and rewarding whirlwind of parenthood.
Happy Father’s Day, my love. Read more
Lately I catch myself staring at Peeper. A lot.
I look up and there she is, and suddenly I’m overcome.
After she goes to sleep, I lose myself scrolling through my Instagram feed or flipping through photos on my phone. I can’t get enough of her, and then I realize I’ve been smiling at her pictures for the last 30 minutes.
Perhaps it’s a side effect of knowing our second child is on her way. The coming arrival of Kiwi makes me savor this time with Peeper even more.
But my absorption with her goes beyond soaking up these last minutes of her as our only child. She is just so damn wonderful.
“And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.”
Peeper recently adopted Sheep as her go-to lovey, and while its fleece used to be white as snow, it has already acquired the dingy dishwater hue of a much-adored stuffed animal.
One day, out of nowhere, Peeper grabbed Sheep—a stuffed toy she’d never had much interest in—right before we went on a hike. Then, when I unloaded her and Finn, she wouldn’t let go. “Sheep come on hike,” she said, so I figured what the hell. Sheep has been Peeper’s Number One Partner ever since.
Sheep comes on our hikes. Sheep rides with Edie in the stroller when we go for morning walks. Sheep even accompanied us to IKEA—then to Mexico. Read more
A baby’s first months are filled with milestones—first bath, first outing, first smile, first everything. Once she grows into a toddler, those baby book moments become fewer and stretched farther apart.
Peeper’s 21st month turned that pattern on its head.
The last month was filled with new experiences, and this adventurous toddler soaked them up. Most notable was her first trip without Dada. We met my parents in Mexico, where Peeper enjoyed a slew of firsts—tasting her first mole (so huge a hit that she ate it plain and straight from the dish), her first swim in the Pacific Ocean, witnessing her first lightning storm. 
Read more
