Hearts of gold

When I'm having a hard time, like these days, when Olive is waking up every 45 minutes or so, when she is inconsolable if anything other than the boob is offered, when she whines and clings to my neck, when I am so sleep deprived that I feel wrapped in fuzz, slow, exhausted, short tempered and overwhelmed. When I don't know why she's acting like this because how could teething be that bad when there are no teeth? And oh God, is it going to be like this for the next two years until she gets her molars? And is it going to be even worse when she starts crawling? When I wonder if I will ever sleep 5 hours in a row again. When I wonder what it would be like to read a book before bed, then go to sleep and not wake up until the NEXT DAY. When all of these things are happening, I just have to drink 3 cups of coffee in a row and look at these sweet girls. Girls who love their mamas. Girls who love their mamas milk. Girls who love to snuggle their mamas all night long. Ah, these girls - they're going to be the most amazing Nobel prize winning scientists who find the cure forHIV/AIDS and global climate change, who are also very talented painters/actors/dancers/mimes who've also won Olympic medals while leading rich family lives with kind and loving long term partners and happy children. Or they'll be strippers. With hearts of gold.

The bald cutie is Etta Mae, my best friend's daughter, and Olive's best friend by association. Or so I say.

All about yarn

I got to order my Handmaiden yarn for my latest projects, yippee!

First, a skein of 4-ply Cashmere in Autumn to make a hat for someone special.

Second, two skeins of Grande Godiva in Origin to make myself a moebius scarf so that my scarf tails don't get inbetween me and the babe when we're out walking in the winter.

Third, a Cashmere Pullover in a custom colour (a takeoff on the Peridot colourway) for me as a reward for being such a great mum and nursing all night long every night.

I've banned myself from going to my favourite local yarn store because they wouldn't let me exchange the Turbo needles I bought for my moebius scarf, which I'd originally planned to knit out of Noro Silk Garden. I bought 3 balls in colour 203, along with the needles in the correct gauge. Then I realized that the project would really look better in the Handmaiden Grande Godiva and went to switch the needles for a bigger gauge, at which point I was told no, sorry, but you could be lying and trying to cheat us by having already used the needles. So basically needles are like underwear in their world. And I, a yarn junkie, will never go into their store again even though it hurts me. I am an honest person. I would never cheat a small local business. (A multi-national evil empire, well that's another story. Although I don't think that yarn and big profits go hand in hand).

On a side note, I am dying to knit either the Lizard Ridge Afghan from Knitty or this exquisite Domino Blanket, both Noro Kureyon, both totally out of my price league.

My little muffin was very attached to mummy today. I guess that's what you get when you attachment parent, right?

Comme ci, comme ca

On the minus:

• Olive woke up so many times last night that my boobs were empty skin sacks and my mouth was a parched desert.

• One of the times she was awake she decided to pull my hair and kick me in the back like I was a pony she was riding, then to roll over, jam her arm in a crevice and cry. Repeat until mummy either a) loses her mind, or b) lets you gnaw on her skin sack until you pass out.

• I'm tired, flabby, hungry, self-indulgent, unmotivated and pimply.

• Pre-Olive I read at least a book a week, most often award-winning fiction and non-fiction, as well as all of the Saturday Globe and Mail. Now I read the Style and Review sections, the occasional bit of a baby book and US magazine. Oh yeah, and blogs. I can't handle anything about global climate change, the war, Afganistan, the political right, religious zealotry, child rape, child labour, child soldiers or child abuse. Which seems to be the bulk of the news these days. The world is fucked. And I brought a baby into it. It makes me want to run away to a small commune where people actually care about the planet and each other. So message to everyone else on the planet - SHAPE UP.
  

On the plus:

• Etta found Olive's belly button.
  

• Olive slumped over blowing zerberts on her highchair.
  

• Olive chewing her first ever piece of toast (picture a cow chewing cud).
  

• Olive wrapping her arms around my neck and 'kissing' my shoulder when I carry her.

• Olive's 'my teeth are killing me' face. It's really cute.

• Eating chocolate and watching Survivor and American Idol consecutively while knitting cashmere. Is that dirty?

I'm amending my earlier post - Olive isn't a crappy sleeper. She's a great sleeper. I'm just crappy at teaching her to sleep any other way than on my boob because I'm TIRED people, and when you're as tired as I am, you are not going to spend an hour multiple times a night trying to get your daughter, who is screaming like you're piercing her eyeballs with pins, to fall asleep some other way, when she'll go right back to sleep as soon as you put your boob in her mouth. So, for the record, it's not Olive, it's me.

Shhhh... don't wake the baby

Olive is not a sleeper.

From the beginning she didn't nap well unless she was on me or Doug. And from about 10 weeks on she has been waking frequently at night to nurse. She does not like the crib. She does not like rocking, shushing, cuddling or vibrating. She likes nursing and sleeping in contact with her mum and dad. I think that there was a brief moment in time when she had amazing naps and only woke up twice a night, but it was so long ago that I now question if it was in fact just a dream.

When Olive hit 6 months old I stopped fighting it. I cancelled my holds on sleep training books at the library, I put away the sleep logs, I tuned out the messages to let her cry it out. I let go of the myths, the pressure, the "shoulds". We brought her into bed with us full-time, with no plans to get her out. And since then she has been so much happier. And I don't feel as tired. And she's been napping for two hours in a row with no nursing back to sleep after half an hour (!). And she's been sleeping two or three hours at the beginning of the night, before she starts her waking every 1.5 hour stint.

And I've been knocking on wood.

Now it would appear she's regressing back to her old ways. Her "I need mummy all of the time" ways. And I think I'm okay. Because this is such a short time. And this is who she is.

So here's hoping for some sleep, and lots of peace.

Rebecca

Today Olive and I went to the celebration of my friend Rebecca's life. She died two weeks ago at the age of 38.

Rebecca was awesome - earthy, funny, positive, sassy, spiritual, artistically gifted, and a fabulous mum to boot. She was a true individual in every sense of the word, in a world where people seem to becoming more and more generic by the day. She was strong in herself and her beliefs.

The first time that I ever felt a baby kick was when Rebecca was pregnant with her last son - I remember watching him roil about beneath the surface of her skin, and asking if I could touch her belly. I was shocked by the vivid action of his little body turning and at how serene she looked as he twisted and turned. Throughout her pregnancy I pestered her almost daily with questions about motherhood, babies and birth. I was longing for my own baby, and when my baby finally came, so did news that Rebecca had cancer. I thought that she would live - how could she not? She was so positive, fit, open-minded, mellow, and young.

And what is the message? To embrace this life. To stop when I start to get wrapped up in little problems, in minor complaints, in expectations and grievances. I look at my Olive and I think, I want to give you the gift of a positive family. This is all there is - a family and time together. Life isn't about possessions, it is about experiences and relationships. I've always known this but sometimes I lose myself in the consumer culture, in doubt - especially now that I spend time with other women based on our mutual ability to reproduce more than actual connections.

A woman I admire told me "Kristy, babies are nine months in you, and nine months on you. Trust your gut and build your own village." Part of my village is gone now - but many, many of the women I love and admire are left. It's time to buck up, to reconnect, to revel in babyhood and to cherish our lives.

I will stop listening to others who judge, who don't understand, who believe in different things.

I will trust my instincts.

I will remember.

Firsts are a'flyin'

Olive flipped over in her sleep last night, leading to her first ever tummy sleep. I'd been told that she might sleep better (a.k.a. longer) like that, but alas, she stuck to her 1.5 hour routine. Now the fear of night crawling sets in. Oi, we're going to have to decide what we're going to do about her sleeping without us at the start of the night.

We took our first trip to the swimming pool today along with Jana and Etta. The girls were goggle eyed when they saw all of the kids! and the grown ups! and the water! and the noise! There was some initial trepidation, but the whole adventure ended with the two of them standing on a little ledge splashing water and squealing as they watched people go by in the "river". Overall, I'd say it was a hit. If only we could have snapped a photo!

Her poops are now insanely stinky. I actually thought that the smell of manure wafting into the car earlier was the scent of her poopy bum, but no, it was just spring. They are so profoundly yucky that Doug was lobbying to just toss a brand new sleeper that managed to get covered in a thick spackle of poop on the weekend, but I put down my foot. Guess who ended up cleaning it up 3 days later when it was discovered at the bottom of the laundry basket?

I wouldn't give it up for ANYTHING.

Two things at once

We walked to our stroller fitness class today in spite of the rain, and once again I misjudged the weather. We ended up getting home soaked, freezing and tired - but Olive was magically happy once we were inside, and we spent some time exploring the wonders of a lid (a lid! it's so chewy!) inbetween bites of lunch (only cold foods these days to soothe those sore gums).

Then we laid in bed and nursed and played her new favourite game. Olive covers her face with her Northern Lights blanket and looks at the light shining through while wiggling her hands and hyperventilating. Then she pulls down the blanket and looks over at me with a giant grin of delight on her face. Then she nurses. Then we start all over again.

This fascination with points of light makes me think that maybe she'll be an astronomer. Or maybe she'll just really love laying in the dark and looking up at the stars.

I'm kind of torn on the whole Valentine's Day front - one part of me thinks it's a crock of poo pseudo-holiday designed by card companies to make money, and the other part of me thinks about how fun it was as a kid to make cookies and Valentines and to tell people how much you loved them.

So today, I am thankful for my thoughtful, loving, smartass, selfless husband who always supports and loves me. And for our beautiful little monkey, who amazes us more everyday as she continues to blossom.