I was totally hoping that he’d be crying his eyes out or laughing hysterically…something more interesting than a blank stare. Oh well…it is forever captured. Behold, Theo’s first Santa picture.
~C~
his first Santa picture was a bust
Month: December 2010
first boo boo
We were in Theo’s room last night after wrangling him into his pajamas (an all new adventure where he insists on flipping over on his changing table the instant we lay him down) and I sat him on the floor so he could practice his crawling. He was playing with a book and decided to go belly to the floor, which he has gotten pretty good at. You can tell that it’s a calculated effort, not just him clumsily falling backwards or to the side. I was sitting in the rocker and his dad was sitting on the floor. We were just talking away and casually watching Theo squirm around in an attempt to be mobile (which he definitely is, but I wouldn’t quite call it crawling…yet).
Next thing I know he’s up on his hands and knees, and then he’s not…he’s falling forward towards the floor and I could not move fast enough to save him. I watched from behind as he went face first onto the hardwood floor. He lifted his head up and the three of us shared a moment of silence…that moment where we all wait to see if he cries or goes on about his business. Not seeing from the front or the side, I wasn’t sure exactly what hit the floor first. He started wailing that “I’m hurt” wail. It’s so much sadder than the “I’m hungry” or the “I’m tired” wail because “I’m hurt” makes you feel like an instant winner of the “World’s Worst Parent” award. You feel like your baby should never have to experience pain under your watch. I’m always telling the dada that things are going to happen, he’s going to get bumps and bruises, scratches and cuts. But when it happens, I’m the one who is more traumatized than anyone. The dada picked him up and held him up to his shoulder so I ran around to see if there was any blood. He was crying with a big open mouth so I could see in there and yep, there was definitely blood.
At that point I panicked and swooped him away (I don’t really know why, it was just my impulse) and carried him into the kitchen, while telling him how sorry I was over and over. I stood at the freezer looking for a stupid teether or bag of peas or anything that I could hold up to his mouth to try to make him feel just a little bit better. Dada found a teether and we went to the living room for a more thorough inspection of the wound. There was blood around his brand new top teeth and I was scared to death that he knocked one loose. Looks like he just bit his upper lip and maybe his tongue, but I didn’t try to wiggle his tooth to find out.
So my poor, sweet baby has a busted upper lip. It started swelling immediately and now the right side is way out of proportion with the left. We put some orajel on it, gave him a bottle, and he went to bed without a fuss. He was ready to get back down on (his soft blanket thankyouverymuch on) the floor and play some more after we applied the orajel. Hopefully he’ll always be a tough little cookie.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so sad for him. Okay, I felt pretty awful about the 4 month shots. I think he got 4 of them and that was terrible. However, there was nothing I could have done to prevent that pain. We should have been paying closer attention or had a rug down on the floor or a blanket or SOMETHING! I know this is just the beginning of countless boo boos but man. I didn’t know it would be so tough. That thing grown ups always say about “it hurts me more than it hurts you” might really be true. I’m realizing that now.
~C~
Snapshot
If I someone took a snapshot of me at any given moment and handed it to me, I would probably gasp in horror. Lately I have been avoiding mirrors like the plague. The first word that comes to mind when I try to think of a way to describe myself is haggard. Isn’t that awful? Doesn’t it just sound atrocious? But that’s it…that’s how I feel about myself right now.
I’ll be walking through the mall (pushing a stroller) or walking through Target (pushing my baby in the cart) and I will feel fine. I’ll see a cute, carefree mom who is wearing heeled boots, modern jeans, and a trendy top, which all look perfect with her make-up and freshly cut and styled hair. She’s got a baby about Theo’s age so I’ll be thinking to myself – oh, there’s a lady just like me. I’ll give her that knowing mom smile and maybe she’ll give me one back or maybe she’ll just look at me and shake her head, thankful that she’s still got it together.
Then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror or the reflection of a storefront window. I’m the mom wearing tennis shoes and the same jeans I’ve had for the last 5 years. I haven’t worn make up in, I don’t know, weeks or maybe even over a month. Every week and a half or so I’ll catch a glimpse of my eyebrows in the rearview mirror while the sun is streaming through the sunroof and realize that every single person who has seen me in the light of day has probably wondered if I have EVER seen a mirror. Then I’ll scramble to get my tweezers out of the side pocket in my purse and pluck out the really long, dark ones before I go run the next errand. I think I’ve gotten my eyebrows threaded 2 times in 2010. Neither of those times were recent. Then there’s the upper lip hair. I don’t even want to talk about that. It’s virtually invisible under our dim bathroom lights so I don’t notice it until I’m out in public.
The last time I straightened or styled my hair? Again, weeks. Maybe months. Last haircut? July. Last one before that? At least another 5-8 months before that. Last color/dye job…also July (and it shows). So, in other words, I have worn my hair in a ponytail every.single.day for MONTHS. I’m so ashamed of that, but secretly glad that it’s long enough to do it. Last pedicure? Hmm. Maybe July, but there’s a good chance that I just painted my toenails myself.
Last time I bought a new outfit? July (and that was one single solitary dress. on sale at Target for $14). Currently I have a rotation of about 4 pairs of pants and twice as many shirts (mostly hoodies) that I wear. I hate every piece of clothing I own. I hate getting dressed. I hate checking my reflection in the mirror before I leave. Will I ever be that cute mom that makes someone else think I’ve really got it together?
Why did I do so well in July? I didn’t, really. Everything was done on the same day for an exciting anniversary dinner to The Melting Pot. The best part? My husband didn’t even notice. Just a general “you look nice.” Nice? Whatever. So much for knocking his socks off. Thank goodness he loves me for me and not for being h-o-t-t because I’m afraid I’d let him down on a daily basis.
But forget his socks, I want to knock my own socks off sometimes. When I see the bags under my eyes and the increasingly obvious wrinkles on my face…my hands… I wonder is this the end? Kids must officially think I’m old. Now that I’m a mom, is this how it’s always going to be? I was never, ever a fashionista or a knockout but I used to have days where I felt cute. Even pretty at times. I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt pretty. Well, that one day July I guess. Before that…hmm….
To add to all of the stuff that I could control, if I ever made time for it, there are the (not-so-)fun things that come with being pregnant that I have absolutely no control over. MY ZITTY FOREHEAD for example. I thought you were supposed to glow with raidance when you got into the second trimester. I’m glowing with oily skin and big shiny red things that would make Rudolph green with envy. Sometimes I only get around to brushing my teeth once a day. That won’t give you any extra confidence, I promise. I’ve been known to wear my glasses for a week or more because I didn’t make time or have the energy to put in my contacts.
My weight hasn’t sky-rocketed out of control so that’s one thing I’ve got going for me. Not that anyone would notice, on top of everything else. I need to do something for me. Something to make myself feel pretty. Or just normal.
Making the time to do all this stuff is hard. Justifying spending money on material things for myself isn’t easy for me. I just feel that these things are low on the priority totem pole when there are so many other things to think about right now.
Good thing my baby is cute. Otherwise, I don’t think anyone would notice me at all.
~C~