Leaving Life in the NEQ

As of this morning we're leaving the Northeast Kingdom. It almost seems completely random even though we've had this discussion about one million times since moving out here from Burlington five years ago. Do we stay or go? Have we put in all this time and effort and planted our seeds just to find out they were annuals? Or has this just been an incredibly important leg of a much longer journey towards a place we've yet to discover? Isn't staying always the easy thing to do? Once life isn't so difficult is it just tedious?

If after years of saying this isn't where I imagined living out the rest of my life why was the wind knocked out of me when Jason first told a co-worker essentially sealing the deal? Why am I so anxious and shaky? We've made list after list of the pros and cons of staying vs. leaving and they seemed to balance out almost entirely. Except for one biggie. Our security here. Asking "what if" didn't leave us feeling ok about being left up in the air out here. So how to place roots when the ground is too loose to stand on your own? Would we ever feel confident enough to build or buy a house of our own again up here? We just don't see that happening anytime soon and so...

We move on. We start all over again; strangers in a strange land. A larger family than we were five years ago, carrying a bit heavier load but with stronger arms. Here we go!

My Funny Valentine

I just thought I'd mention that my most wonderful valentine in the world said a new word today. POLKADOT. It was fabulous. Absolutely ridiculously perfectly sweet. It sounded more like "pokedot" but I'm giving it to her anyway. My heart is full.

And that's my story.

Raining Introspection

It appears there's little room left in one's brain for introspection of any sort when one has an eighteen month old puppeteer stringing one along day to day as one might a marionette. The closest to feeling any sort of deepness of thought is to fit in some interesting article in The New Yorker or The Atlantic while I nurse her down for a nap or to bed. The problem there is that (A) I'm too tired to register the words that my eyes are struggling to decipher (B) I have no one to talk to about such provoking ideas for at least a few hours and so they die a slow, anonymous death and slip away into the black and red oblivion that is my useless brain or (C) I say "hmm, how interesting", ramble off the entire contents of the ten pages I've tried desperately to memorize to Jason and then drink a glass of wine and retire to Top Chef, The Office or inane American awfulness like American Idol.

Tonight though there is rain. That ever beautiful tap tap tapping of condensation falling miles to your roof reminding you that yes, you can take this moment to be present. There is nothing more forcefully introspective, besides perhaps the rolling of the ocean against the shore, than rain. I realize it's February and so I'm maybe a little just sick of the damn cold and snow and I wouldn't mind a little washing away of the three feet in the back yard. It also means that yes! finally it's above freezing which is always an incredible moment, especially here in Vermont. People were jacket less today, their mittens nowhere to be seen, I saw a woman's legs! We go a bit berserk when it hits 40 but we're forgiven I believe. It won't last and we'll be frozen hermits before we know it but we'll have a spark of hope revived. Spring is somewhere in the distance our slightly thawed souls scream.

For now, I'll just sit in this pleasant almost-silence, listening to a toddler breathe, the rain remind me of now and the buzz of a computer connect me to somebody somewhere.

A Belated Merry Holidays

Happy New Year and all that. Tessa certainly enjoyed herself with our four days of Christmas. There are still gifts for her sitting right now wrapped nicely upon the buffet, I am saving them for another day. Perhaps this will be our tradition, since I'm somewhat dying to create one of our own. A wait it out approach, a new idea of no you can't get everything at once in some crazy wrapping paper orgy on some predetermined day.

Not to say I don't get in the spirit of it all. I am very happy, thrilled, giddy even to be given an excuse to shop for the people I love. It fills me with a sense of day to day purpose in an otherwise entirely manic time of year. So I won't be preaching the same "the meaning of Christmas is lost in the consumerism of the buy everything culture that's shoved down our throats by the blahdeeblahdeeblah...." even though I totally buy it (hahaha). I love the holidays all the same. I love the lights and the simple act of wrapping up a gift and handing it over to a cousin you see once a year. The absolutely pointless fun of cutting down a tree to watch it die slowly inside your house covered in tacky decorations. I love hearing the same crappy music on the radio every year and meandering through all the wonderful and hideous crafts at the local markets. I love watching the frantic faces on the small towners rummage through our small selection of shops and knowing they're thinking "yeah, buy locally my ass, who needs another blown glass candle holder?" And I love feeling totally self righteous because I did do all my shopping locally.

I do kind of wish that this extravagence was scheduled perhaps once every two years, maybe even five. Then the thousands of people who lost their jobs right before they finished racking up another couple of 00's on their credit cards might not have considered how much they're life insurance policies are worth.

So, yeah, maybe I love shopping and wrapping and being a part of some crazy cultural insanity rooted in excess but whatever. It's fun, I got to put a blinking reindeer nose on my nephew. What's better than that?

Bittersweet Bubbye

OK, so this picture might seem a little odd so let me explain. We're moving! This is Jason pointing to the beautiful exposed beams on the kitchen ceiling and waving bub-bye. Tessa seems a little perplexed in the background but it's her daddy and he does weird things all the time so whatever.
I don't really know how to take it all in. Night after night lately Jason and I have sat up talking about how wonderful this place is. How we've changed it and how it's changed us and how no matter where we go or what we do this will always be our first house. It's the setting for our engagement (in the front yard under the tree during a blizzard), where I told Jason I was pregnant (sitting on the couch in front of the wood stove), it's where I labored for the first 12 hours, the first house Tessa came home to, where Percy has spent the majority of her 4 1/2 years, where we've had more than a handful of holiday dinners and celebratory meals. It's where we've both gotten to know each other and ourselves in all our ever changing roles; as husband and wife and mama and daddy and breadwinner and child-raiser. Don't get me wrong, we've frozen our tails off in this house, we've burned money in last ditch efforts to appease the old spirits that let us sleep here (believe me their presence is strong and does not go unnoticed).
We joked for the first two years that we felt like pioneers who embarked on this journey out of both naivete and a kind of wanderlust. It sounds counter intuitive, we wanted to explore and so we settled down, but we found and saw and learned things about creating home-space and being a part of history. I love this house and before I even leave it I miss it. The warmth of the wood stove, these salvaged bowling alley counter tops, the porcelain farm sink we drove down to the seacoast to pick up, the old fireplace in the kitchen, the creaky floors, the antique-y door latches in place of knobs, the beams in the kitchen.
We're so good at romanticizing the past that we've begun it before we've even left it behind. This house has been more than a backdrop it's been an active character in our story. A protagonist and antagonist at once. We wrestled with it's quirks and it's thrown mirrors in our faces. It's humbled us and our egocentric minds thinking we could just move in and move out; that we wouldn't wholly change ourselves, our lives before we left.
Four years, three months and three days we'll have had this house. Or rather, it's had us.

Something New This Way Comes

I can only say hallelujah! Seriously. Something's gone right in this country for the first time in a long time and I have to say I'm just proud as hell to be a part of it. Watching Obama's acceptance speech last night my body tensed up, I honestly didn't shed a tear, I was just too nervous. I expected something to go terribly wrong. I think it was just this fear that I've been infected with over the past eight years that is still running through my veins. Billions of tiny frightened cells repeating their wicked words "nothing works here". The part of my brain that houses conspiracy theory has been firing off warning signals for weeks now. But there it was in all it's flashing numbers and colors glory. 333. He's in.
I watched the faces of those 250,000 people crowding into Grant Park in Chicago and longed to be there. I wanted to be hugging strangers and crying on camera. I wanted to be kneeling down on that stampeded lawn and thanking my personal higher power for the opportunity to be witness to this day. Instead I was home which was actually more heartening, my deeply dreaming daughter a floor away oblivious to the monumental moment that was occuring. Jason and I were actually in the kitchen cooking up an eleven o'clock feast when we heard screams coming from the television in the other room. We ran in and saw the students in Selma dancing and crying and jumping all over eachother. They called it. He's in.
We stayed up and listened to his speech which by all means was beautiful and articulate and Obama-esque. Watching his face though you wouldn't have thought it was one of the best moments in this country's history. You'd think he was giving a concession speech. He was a bit solemn, a bit reserved. I wanted to reach him and shake him and scream in his face "damn it you won!!!" I chalk it up to exhaustion and disbelief. Today hearing the MLK and Lincoln pieces of his speech over and over again on NPR I got goose bumps, I teared up every time, I actually started laughing and crying at the same time. I picked Tessa up and swung her around and taught her to clap her hands and squeel when I said "Ba-Rack O-Bama!". Then I felt a little too obsessed. I just want to somehow ingrain these days in her memory. I want her to feel this excitement somehow.
There's a copy of the Boston Globe taped up facing out the back window of my car with a giant headline reading "Historic Victory" with a gorgeous shot of our man below it. I wrote beneath the photo "YES! WE CAN". (I would've gotten the NY Times but nobody had any left!) The local baker in town motivated me, he also put up a modest paper and ink sign loudly reading the same slogan in his shop door. I just want to feel connected in this moment to the rest of the country. I want to, for the first time in my life, really feel hopeful for the progress that this nation can still achieve in a relatively short span. I want to know that we are indeed getting better and I want to be a part of that change.
He's in. Thank whatever God you will. He's in. Now I can breathe.

Hard Day's Night

So Tessa is absolutely fab-u-lous. The problem is she knows it. Damn it! When people say, "oh isn't she beautiful!" Cue direct stare, smile and wave.

We're dealing with a diva already. I kid you not the child would snap her fingers at me if she could figure out how. Instead she has found many different ways of getting her point across including, but not limited to, whining at an ever increasing pitch, hanging onto my legs and pushing me in the direction she wants me to go, throwing herself in a full backbend, smiling while biting her bottom lip and pointing at desired object, sending telepathic messages, attempting to run on air, hugging and kissing with mouth open then biting my cheek and laughing.

Today was a hard day. She is just very very non-stop. She's very independent and willfull. She will walk down the sidewalk by herself, she will eat the broccolli raw before I get a chance to cook it, she will not sit and eat in her high chair she will not eat anything at all should I press the subject.

Oh My God I'm so scared to death of her in 12 years. I must take control now. But how?! Jason laughs and tells me this is what I get for trying to be AP. My mother laughs and tells me the terrible twos are a joke it's really the terrible one through fours nobody tells you till it's too late. Everybody laughs cause it's funny when it's not you.

It's not as bad as it sounds, I think. I've just had a hard day. Jason's gone to Saratoga on business and as of now, 9:30 pm, I'm sure he's out at some bar with work guys having a beer and talking about work crap. Poor guy. (rolls eyes) I don't have it bad either at the moment. I'm sitting here next to my half empty bottle of wine, trying to get in as much leisure time as possible watching three different shows at once, a book open and typing this up. Ah, what a peaceful night. Meanwhile, the monitor heaves and shifts as Tessa almost wakes up again and again and I sit on the edge of my chair wondering if I should just brush my teeth now or if I really will get to before she starts to cry again.

I'm being over dramatic perhaps, but really it's hard to imagine doing all of this over again. Everyone I know with babies is talking seconds and I just look around and start to wonder why I'm not really catching the baby fever.

Uh. There she is.....

Happy Happy Birthday to Tessa!

Hello, hello?! Thank you all sooooooo much for making my birthday sooooo special!!!

Vaccination Contemplation

Ugh. I hate these kinds of awful decisions. I've been reading up on vaccinations for a while now and have heard all sorts of horror stories from both sides. I've talked to many many other parents who have looked into all possibilities and statistical likelihoods and made many many varying decisions from getting their kids totally covered to being selective and delaying to forgoing any shots at all. They all have their well thought out reasons but it doesn't change the fact that I have to make this decision for my daughter. (Well Jason and I).

In the beginning... Right after Tessa was born my mind was pretty well made up that I did not want my perfect daughter injected with dead disease cells and harsh chemicals so that she might escape her one in ten billion chance of catching things like Hepatitis B or Polio. But then we went to the doctors and were prodded with subliminal shocks of guilt and shame that we would risk our dear child's life when it was so simple a decision. Especially when "there is no real evidence linking vaccines to these purported serious sides effects" and since "you can find anything you want to on the internet". I didn't feel like I had much if any straight forward facts and numbers pointing me to the exit. I was locked in. I still am.

So, Round one.... We did delay her first round of vaccinations till she was 2 months and then only did the two of the four recommended shots. It was an incredibly hard thing to be a part of. Consciously putting our little girl in harms way but possibly keeping her safe from things like potentially fatal whooping cough. That day passed, as days do, and Tessa exhibited no side effects except for a couple of sore legs and a bit of lethargy.

Round two.... We had specifically asked not to have any vaccines with mercury in them and were assured that none of the shots had anything of the sort. But when we showed up to the appointment and asked a third person they said perhaps the HIB did have a bit, maybe. We delayed until someone from the state medical so and so got back to us and told us no, the HIB shot did not contain mercury. She was given round two of Pediarix and Prevnar, one a combo of dTaP, Hep B and polio and one for Pneumococcal (Pc) along with the HIB. We declined the flu and the Rotavirus vaccines. Hours after her shot she began to scream, a high pitch, non-stop scream. She wouldn't open her eyes and she wouldn't nurse. She was rigid and inconsolable and it scared the crap out of me. She screamed till she passed out and would wake up, without opening her eyes, and begin to scream again. When I called the doctors office I spoke with a nurse just about to head home and she said if it kept up into the night to take her to the ER and tell them she was having a reaction to the dTaP.

I began to google and lost it. Whole websites with people gushing horror stories related to dTaP. Here is what Dr. Goodvax was refering to when she told me I could find "anything" on the web. It drives me up the wall when Jason turns his persistant headache into a brain tumor just by following a few too many flashing prompts down the rabbit hole but here I was. I did not want to turn the situation into anything worse than it was. But it wasn't good. Then Tessa got better. Even by the time Jason came home that night she was almost back to normal. I, on the other hand, a little traumatized.

Those were her last shots, at four months old. She will be ten months this week and in the doctor's view way over due. I went prepared today. Dr. Sears Vaccine Book under my arm, determined to do what I felt was best. To have Tessa vaccinated for HIB and Pc only. Well I almost didn't make it. She said she really thought it was important for Tessa to have the dTaP (she doesn't believe her previous experience with it is serious or relevent) considering she has just gotten over pneumonia. Ok. Well. Hmm. I had no information telling me whether this was a legitimate concern or not. I panicked. I said OK. She didn't fight me on the other ones but still. I was defeated. The second she walked out of the room I was calling Jason. Furious at myself I took it out on his answering machine "I'm here making this decision by MYSELF. I need YOUR imput. PLEASE call me back." He did right away and told me what I needed to hear. We need time to look into it, delay the shot. Whew. God, he's good.

I marched out of that office and in front of three somewhat annoyed nurses told them politely I would like to put that particular shot off till we have more time to do more research. Cue rolled eyes and sideways glances and it was done. All three descended upon the room like three Shakesperean witches, held her down, made a clackety racket to distract her and pumped her chubby, white, perfect legs full of ideally life saving medicinal miracle syrup. I almost cried. But didn't and instead took her close to me, ignored their clatter and left. I didn't make another appointment.

Tessa's slept 4 hours in naps already today and it's not even 5:30. But that's it. No screaming. I feel relieved and strong and like I made the right decision for my baby. Not for anyone else's but my own. I'll continue to research, do my homework and hopefully what I choose makes sense. Hopefully what I choose is what keeps my bean safe and happy and healthy. I pray and I hope and I make decisions that let me sleep soundly next to the most important person in this world to me.

Pastel Happiness

I love Easter. Always have and hopefully always will. I hope also to pass that love of this chocolate covered, floppy bunny eared, pastel extravaganza on to Tessa. I understand why Jason might have a bit of a problem with it. Up here in this land of frozen earth and ungodly wicked wind Easter and all of it's color is well, hogwash. It's a fake celebration of a time that has not reached us yet. It's giving thanks for warmth and light that may well be weeks away. It's realizing that other people's children, most in this country, are tossing festive eggs and staining their khaki pants or white tights green with grass. While here we still dress up in these ridiculously out of season floral and striped outfits under our winter coats and trudge out into the snow or, if we're lucky, thick molasses mud and gather together inside one another's houses warm only by way of wood or oil.

Still, I love Easter. I look forward to the days when I can tie colored string to Tessa's bedroom doorknob. She'll awake bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to storm the house in a treasure hunt for chocolates and goodies and the ultimate prize of The Basket. It will be filled with crayons and markers and toothbrushes and seeds for planting and fluffy bunnies and chicks! And you know what? If it's crap weather outside and a frigid 10 degrees like it was here on Easter morning. We'll do just what we did this year and we'll jump in the car and drive to Connecticut. Land of lillies and daffodils and twice baked potatoes made to look like eggs with sprouts of chives, sunshine carrots and Nana's marshmellow green mystery salad.

I love Easter so much that I woke up this past Sunday morning wishing it was Easter all over again! But alas, it was not and I've got a whole 12 months to go. Hopefully next year Jason can actually come with us. We'll convert him one of these years. Once Tessa's old enough to get as worked up about this holiday as her mom he'll have no choice but to give it a second chance. After all isn't that what it's all about? A rebirth? A resurrection of light and hope? Faith in the ability of the sun to heal us? After a long, dark, hard winter we all need a little more pink and green I think. It's the perfect medicine for our snow shovelling aching backs, our dried out pores, our cracked hands. Give us some pastel pill, I'll swallow it whole.

Whining

February is the cruelest month. Didn't somebody say that? Well this february seems to be not so much cruel but annoying. Irritating for reasons it should not be irritating for. It's too perfect. Yup, mild and snowy and sunny most days. It's beautiful. I took a drive to Littleton yesterday and even driving down the highway it was spectacular. Every single tiny branch had at least an inch of snow balancing on top. It was bright but not so bright I couldn't see. Just bright enough so that all the caps of the White Mountains could be seen.
And that's why it was annoying. I wanted to be there. Up on top of those mountains. Standing on those peaks, sweaty and cold simultaneously, sucking in that wildly frigid mountain top air, pit of my stomach growling, just about to pass out. I love that high.
But I was in a car. A dirty car no less and full from a gluttonous tuna sandwich, depressed dog soaking the passenger seat next to me, baby in back moaning away from those horrible jagged little teeth ripping their way through her sad little gums. And I was going to TJmaxx. Ooh, it was exciting. I love to shop and since I've been thoroughly disgusted by my mundane wardrobe lately and cabin fever has long since set in I thought a shopping spree would be just what I needed. Bills were piled up but who cares, right? There'll always be bills, I can just hear my mother say. So I spent all of $12 on a pair of linen pants and a merino wool sleeveless sweater thing (it's not as tacky or as 90s as it sounds).
And I was happy. For an afternoon I had escaped. Gotten out of Dodge for a few brief hours and here I am again. Home sweet cluttered, dusty, dog hair ridden home. I realize today that my efforts yesterday were mediocre at best. I need longer lasting, more satiating escape! I need that mountaintop! Damn it! I even tried to go for a walk to the cemetary today and ended up losing one of Tessa's booties along the way cutting my big outing in half. She can't be out long these days even when the temp is about 30, her chin and cheeks are raw and peeling.
So... wah, wah, wah. It's gorgeous outside and I can't seem to enjoy it. I'm too scattered. Too anxious and pent up and unmotivated. Perhaps february is the cruelest month because even when she's flirting, showing off her lighter, brighter side, she's just a tease.

Happy Half Year Baby!

Yes, today Tessa turns six months. A whole half a year old. I'm sure it doesn't sound like much to some but it's absolutely unbelievable to me. She's practically crawling, she ate a (miniscule) bit of banana this morning, she can say "hi!" and she's huge!

Even though she's changing everyday and in so many incredible ways she is still the same little being that came out of me six months ago. I know it sounds obvious but it's a strange thing to witness. A person being born and then maintaining who they are through enormous change. Sure she's grown in size and she's not fooled by the magical disappearing whateveritisthatshewants trick anymore but she's the same person. Looking at me with the same eyes. The same sly smile creeping out from one corner of her mouth and the same back of the throat laugh she does that I can never quite imitate right.

It makes me wonder all over again about nature v. nurture and why I am who I am. I think I give to much credence to what I've done or what's been done to me. I've never really felt victim to this world, say, but I have often felt like well, of course I'm that way just look at what I've been through. I'm beginning to feel like that's a real cop-out. Of course there's years and years chalk full of life for Tessa ahead and only time will prove how it will all effect her and mold the person she will be but watching her now, her extroversion, her likes and dislikes, how similar and different she already is to both Jason and I. I can see her presence becoming stronger, her will, her personality. She's her own person and it is my job not just to make sure the experiences I can control are mostly positive ones for her but to allow who she is to bloom in this world. To give her the confidence she'll need to know that no matter what kind of world she walks through she was born strong and smiling. One happy little bean just full of her own self.

Where Have You Been!?

So, yes, it's been a long, long time since I've posted. I know I'm a bad, bad blogger. Of course when I didn't have a squirmy, wormy, babbling 5 month old I could type with more than one hand. Whether she's pulling my hair or chewing on my shoulder or standing (yes, standing!) on my lap she's attatched mostly to my left arm. So please forgive the scaatered typos.

So where have we been? Well, there was our trip to Key West in November for Shelby and Scott's wedding, Tessa's first Thanksgiving in Connecticut and Tessa's first Christmas in Winooski and Wethersfield. Our quiet New Year's Eve at home watching the midnight fireworks through the trees behind the house. Tessa's first experience of snow. Tessa's first time meeting her Bestefar-far (great-grandfather). You get the point. So many firsts... big events and small occassions. They're somehow easier to pinpoint than her personal milestones, not that I've been particularly good at recording either. The first time she stood up, sipped water, rolled over. When she really began teething or babbling or laughing out loud, arching her back or grabbing for toys. And of course my favorite and a very recent trick - reaching for me. Everyday I'm overwhelmed with how much she's changing and how much I should be keeping track of it all. Our camera is full of pictures I've meant to download. My written journal has maybe five notes scribbled in it from the last two months. Meanwhile I've been mostly just here. Simply nursing my growing girl. Watching her, carrying her in circles around the house, finding new ways to make her scream with laughter, napping with her (shh don't tell daddy) and repeating that word over and over in my head: daughter.

Back to Work

So last night was my second night back to work. It was ... nice. I'm not really in any big rush to get out of the house but I wasn't dreading it by any means either. It felt good to make a little money and to get out and be social. Although I was tempted to tell all my tables that I had a beautiful 11 week old daughter at home waiting for me I held back. For a few hours, to a handfull of strangers I was just a young woman bringing them their food and drink. Not a nervous, new mother. Not a wife. Not caretaker of crazy dog. Just an anonymous, efficient waitress.

I missed Tess while I was gone for all of four hours. I managed to call home three times and check in on the situation which was not going as smoothly as we might have liked. Jason did it though. He made it. I got home and Tessa was crying. I could hear her from outside the front door. Jason, bless him, had been struggling for some time and here I was at last to relieve him of his duties. He made a run for the kitchen to whip up a fabulous meal. I picked her up and, like the troublemaking jokester I can already see her becoming, she looked at her daddy and flashed one big, sneaky smile. Jason looked bewildered.

I had almost started to worry that she wasn't relient upon me enough. That she went to everyone else almost too easily. She fell asleep on my grandmother, my father, my mother, everyone. She smiled at strangers and let anyone pick her up. I was scared I was making her too independant. I wanted that look to me for reassurance. That tighter hold on my neck. Last night was really the first time I felt like she really wanted me to hold her, not just to be held. Of course, I want others to be able to watch her without much trouble and they will. Tuesday daddy-daughter nights will get smoother and visits from grandmas on saturdays will be exciting for everyone but it will all take time. No one will be able to understand her needs quite as well as I do but that is the sweet part of being a mother. Being needed is hard but my god it feels good.

Super or Slacker SAHM

At the moment I am sitting up in our bedroom with Tessa laying across a pillow on my lap. She is sleeping. Again. She had just woken up from a three hour nap (I have to admit I took part in nearly 2/3 of that nap) and as I began to nurse her she drifted off again. Now typing over her I can feel her stir slightly and although I know I should wake her I type faster hoping just to get out a few paragraphs because this is the point of this session. Do I let her sleep too much?

Today she turns two months old and she has changed immensely. Not only is she much larger she is much more engaged, much stronger, much more of a character. She talks to us in goo's and ooh's and snorts. She smiles and nearly laughs and is just beginning to pull my hair when I carry her around. And she sleeps well, maybe too well. Unlike so many other two month olds she is a champion sleeper just like her mom. Some mornings I'll wake at 9 am and find her still fast asleep beside me. Of course having Daddy in the restaurant biz and eating dinners often at 10 pm we have a much later schedule than most new families. Tessa has adapted well but this all doesn't mean she sleeps deeply through the whole night or that even when she is I do, hence the need for an occassional two hour nap. So like any new mother I have to question my tactics. Am I letting her sleep too much? The answer seemed obvious when she was newly born and she needed 18 hours a day to deal with this crazy, often overwhelming world. But now?

I worry that like I've failed to keep her entertained, that perhaps she's bored and so she sleeps. Or, that worse of all, I'm trying to get her to sleep so that I can get other things done. I'm a list person so at the end of the day I have tasks and chores checked off. I like to be able to see what I've just accomplished immediately like a clean fridge, or bags of organized, outgrown baby clothes. I want to be super stay-at-home mom. I'm coming to terms with the fact that that means no lists. Tessa is not a chore I can mark off. I might not be able to say what I've done for her at the end of everyday but whatever it is I'm sure its more important than dog hair-free floors.

So, I've woken her up. We've walked around town in the dark and just now we danced to Lets Give Them Something To Talk About. I'm not a slacker mom I know, I love my daughter with everything in me... I'm just learning how to love her in the way she needs me to.

Forget about it...

So, I've given up already. I can't possibly keep up with posting every week. It's just impossible. Tessa has already turned six weeks old!!! It's absolutely ridiculous how quickly the days and weeks are passing. With that comes our rapid adjustment to this new life. Suddenly, Tessa is just here. We are a family and that's that. Since she's become just one of us we've slowed the picture taking down quite a bit. Don't get me wrong she's nothing short of the most perfect being in the universe and we're still trying to record all of her little, miraculous changes, we just can't spend entire days camera in hand ready to shoot. Laundry needs to be done, dishes washed, groceries bought, Percy walked, bills sent out and Tessa needs to be nursed and changed and nursed again. Already I can't imagine what my life was before her. Certainly not before I was pregnant with her! And I think to myself, I must've known it was her. I just know her too well. There was obviously a much deeper relationship forming than I could've ever even realized when she was inside of me.
So forget the week by week photo journal. Hopefully, we'll be able to catch lots and lots of great moments on film and they'll help remind us years from now how perfectly romantic this time in our lives was. I do know there'll be hundreds of moments that flash by too quick for the shutter to catch and those moments will just have to be burned into our memories. Like this one right now... Tessa two feet away, cooing and ga-ing to herself in her bassinette, struggling to keep her heavy lids open to stare at the sunlight reflecting off the ceiling for another moment, finally falling asleep to the tapping of these keys.

Catching Up....Week Three

It was my first week home alone with Tessa. I was feeling pretty good about it and since I had great meals ready to go in my fridge and freezer, had been getting a decent amount of sleep and really felt a great bond with Tessa already. I knew we'd be fine, just the two of us. And we were! So when the weekend came I felt confident enough for our new family to take a little trip to Burlington. We spent a leisurely afternoon at the dog park trying to make up for all the attention Percy's not receiving lately. She loved us for it. That night we ordered Leonardo's pizza (an old favorite) and drove to the in-law's incredible house on the lake. They were out of town (in Prague no less) so we made ourselves at home. (Thank you Joan and David!!) Auntie Sue, cousin Lukas and unkle Evan came out to see us the next day. It was a wonderful weekend even though Percy managed to poison herself, lock herself in the car and get stuck with porcipine quills .

catching up... Week Two

Mom came up to see her first grandchild (and take care of me too). They got along smashingly - look they even coordinated their outfits!

Tessa with her two great grandmas!!

We got to do some relaxing in the yard after everyone left.

We even took a day trip to Montpelier! Here we are resting up at the park.

catching up... Week One

The night I went into labor (about 24 hours before Tessa was born)...

Pizza dinner and a Hoegaarden to calm the nerves. I had no idea what was coming to me.


Our first dinner home with little girl. Same house, same setup just add a brand new perfect person, bunches of beautiful flowers, a little less sleep and a new meaning to the word happiness.
We had salad compliments of Elements and an amazing creamy pesto pasta dish by Chef Jason. Tessa had a very local unpasteurized breast milk she seemed to enjoy.

The first few nights were pretty hard; an hour sleeping, an hour nursing but we had a very pleasant first few days at home just the three of us (well, four, sorry Percy). Jason made fabulous dinners and waited on me hand and foot. Umm, honey? Could you go down to Brooks and get me that nipple cream? Thanks.....

Then outside help arrived! We got some good support from people who know. Tessa's aunt and uncle relieved our fears and brought us good nourishment while her big cousin Lukas kept an eye on her at the Littleton farmer's market. It was our first big trip out into the world as a family and all went smoothly until I discovered her diaper rash and lost my mind thinking I was the Worst Mother in the World already.



Granny J took her shift and cooked and cleaned and cooked some more. Good times were had by all as the celebration continued on. We were excited to introduce Tessa into this good world by surrounding her with family, friends, good tunes and of course the fragrance of great food.

these days...

Life is just flying by. In a good but bittersweet way. In an incredibly beautiful way that time has never passed for me before but already with a hint of longing for these minutes to stretch just a little further. It's 2 pm. So far today I've managed to take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and mow about 10 square feet of lawn. Just add nurse and change Tess in between each one of those basic daily tasks and you have my past three hours. And I love it. I have books and magazines piled up to read during the hours a day I spend feeding her but I've yet to finish one article. I just stare and stare knowing I'm witnessing her grow and change without being able to understand or really see it. Writing just this has taken 42 minutes already. She's been on my lap as I rock her and type a sentence one handed then break to breathe her in for a few minutes more.

So, as well intentioned as I am to continue internet journaling this time with her it's going to take me a while. I haven't even started to write down her birth story and it's been over two weeks! This might turn into more of a week by week photo journal. Just one way to try and track these days I'm reluctantly letting go by.