Three

Three years ago at this time, we had said our vows and were dancing at our reception. As the sun set below the horizon in favor of a starry night sky, I remember we made a wish. For a real live baby to fill our arms and our hearts.

Today, three years later, our soon to be 11-month old son is waddling about, babbling "dada" while experimenting with volume control.

In three short years, we became a family of three. So much has changed yet our love remains the same.

Our lives have become quite hectic lately - with me staying at home and you working two jobs - and we don't have as much time alone as we would like. Things aren't perfect. But we are ultimately happy. Our ups and downs over the years have made us stronger. I have no doubt we can make it through just about anything. As long as we are together.

Happy Anniversary, my love. And Happy First Father's Day.

Friendly Rivalry

Perhaps my latest admission is a bit of a faux pas. But here goes anyhow.

Parenting sometimes feels like a competition. There. I said it.

The coveted prize: the MVP trophy. Most Valuable Parent, that is.

Sure, DH and I are cordial. We realize it is of the utmost importance that our son bond with each of us, equally. And we respect that. We may even enjoy witnessing said bonding with the auxiliary parent. For a moment.

But at the same time, we vie for Nate's affection. We secretly want him to prefer us. Selfish? Yes. Wrong? Probably. But true regardless. After all, who wouldn't want to be the center of his world? When he smiles and giggles, it's like a natural aphrodisiac. Neither of us can get enough. Especially when we're the wizard behind the curtain, evoking those delightful grins and squeals.

So, what exactly is the scoreboard status? It seems we're tied for today. 1-1.

I was in an early lead, as Nate woke for the day, babbling "mama" incessantly despite numerous fruitless "dada" cues. But my lead was soon shattered when DH returned home from work. I was mincemeat as he was greeted with unbridled jubilee to which I have never been a part.

We just volley back and forth. One point here. One point there. Neither a clear victor although we both keep a mental count.

You are probably mulling over how appalling we are. Deeming us unfit parents. But the old adage goes, "competition breeds success". By observing our significant others (or alternative caretakers) with our precious little ones, we can strive to be better. Watching from the sidelines, I discover new parenting tactics and strategies. Watching him quiet down as Grandma swings him to and fro. Spotting him nodding off as DH bounces him just so on his knee. Seeing him laugh while playing peek-a-boo with a friend. Without those "wish-I-had-thought-of-or-done-that", enviable moments, I may never grow to be the mom I aspire to be.

And while our petty jealousy will most likely continue to bubble under the surface, the bottom line is we are both winners.

The final score? Love-love.

What's Going On

I apologize for leaving a void where my posts should be. I owe you all an explanation for my absence. I'd like to admit I've abandoned my blog in exchange for the drudgery of packing up innumerable boxes of useless trinkets belongings and deep cleaning areas that haven't been tended to since my nesting tirade in my 9th month of pregnancy. But that would only be a half truth.

DH turned the big 3-0 on Thursday. Although he prefers the ersatz "twenty-ten". We celebrated with a relatively low-key dinner and dessert here. Simply delish. Oh, not to mention my generous gift to him. Or should I say to us. It was a bit of a selfish purchase since we both expressed interest in learning the fine art of photography and had both been eyeing an SLR for quite some time. His birthday was the perfect excuse to splurge.

I should note that my first idea was a ski trip to Western Maryland but since I couldn't bear to leave Nate with my parents for an entire weekend to partake in amusing winter-themed activities, it would have required DH to hit the slopes solo. He politely declined the woo of the Black Diamond in favor of the well-reviewed camera.

Despite his continuous bereavement of his youth (his words - not mine), I think he secretly enjoyed the occasion. He waxed nostalgic about his twenties and realized that he had accomplished much in the past decade. He earned two degrees. Joined the workforce with a job applicable to said degrees. Fostered his inner entrepreneur by forming his own side consulting business. (Sure, right now it costs more in taxes to maintain than the profit it provides - but it is a startup after all. And I'm proud of him for even having the cajones to bring his vision to life.) Not to mention he made the best decision of his life when he decided to make me his wife and procreate with me. *wink wink*

As he talked aloud ad nauseum about how far he's come, my mind wandered as I thought about how far we had come and how our relationship has morphed over the years. I've tried to articulate the thoughts that swirled around in my mind but I've yet to be pleased with the results. Maybe one day soon I can be eloquent enough to share my babblings in a post all its own.

Somewhere between organizing boxes and celebrating my loved one's milestone, my immune system managed to infect itself with another cold, complete with head congestion and leaky nose (and to think I paid my dues in December...how foolish). Thankfully, it seems to have halted its progress. I am hopeful I can avoid a full-blown infection this go round. I am willing to suffer if it means Nate can be spared from its wrath. Much gratitude, booby milk.

Speaking of Nate and boobs - er, food - we're still riding the solids train. I often muse over why we call cereal a solid when the consistency is undoubtedly liquid. But let's not lose sight of the topic at hand. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And if that's true with my son, well...I'm in trouble.

We started two weeks ago with the rice cereal, which went better than I had expected for the initial attempt. However, in the days that followed, Nate became increasingly obstinate (I know, my son? Obstinate? I must be mistaken). He refused to open his mouth in anticipation of the spoon, shaking his head and combating the utensil in objection. His jaws were impervious even to the fail safe "airplane" game. It got to the point where he would bust into tears just to be seated in his highchair. The last thing I wanted was poor associations with mealtime. And in all fairness, the rice did smell rather putrid even mixed with breastmilk.

So, in the face of a conundrum, I searched the kitchen and pantry high and low for any safe alternative to cereal and discovered bananas. I cut off a small chunk and mashed it into a puree. Same result. Gagging. Refusal. Mr. Fussypants in all his splendidness.

After forcing bananas for two days, I decided to give oatmeal a try. No gagging. Just a little residual spit. And I even got him to open up for a few bites. Sneaky bitch that I am found a loophole to his resistance. Ever pretending to be larger than life, he prefers to hold the spoon himself and put it in his mouth on his own. So, I dip the spoon in the oatmeal just enough for him to get a taste when he transfers it to his mouth. Also, as he goes in to lick the inside edges of the bowl like a desperate canine, I sneak a spoonful of oatmeal into his vacant oral cavity. Works like a charm. Last night, I actually got him to finish a whole tablespoon this way.

Just like our journey with bottle acceptance: practice will make perfect. I guess I just bred a boy who knows what he likes. As long as it starts with a B and ends in OOBIES.

Resolutions

I rang in 2009 snuggling with my son - who was nearly comatose from overindulging warm milk - in bed, shielding him from the blaring pyrotechnics occurring just outside of our bedroom window.

Nate was born LAST year. I was pregnant with him the year BEFORE LAST. How insane is that?! What's even scarier is that THIS year, he'll turn one. Goodness! Before I know it, with the exponential speed with which time has been travelling, he'll be starting school, driving, and dating.

As with all New Years celebrations, the descent of the gigantic, luminous orb had me not only reflecting on the monumental year that was 2008, but also pondering self-improvement. I've lived and I've learned much over the past 12 months but I can't stop in my tracks. I can't relish in the comfortableness when there is so much potential beyond the present. The only constant from year to year is change. Things - life - will inevitably morph and shift, and we will struggle to adapt. I have to strive to be a better mother. A better wife. A better daughter and sister. A better friend and person.

Is it possible to transplant the best parts of 2008 into the new year? How can I better myself so that I become more valuable to those around me?

I was never much of a believer in setting resolutions. It seems that the moment you utter the r-word, it is a self-fulfilling prophecy to fail. Even an honest attempt to achieve a resolution is moot if left unresolved when the sand runs out at the end of the year. I am more inclined to set goals - both short-term and long-term. That way, I can still hold myself accountable but I will not be held under the duress of a stringent annual deadline.

Without further ado, my newfound objectives are as follows:

1. Grow spiritually

I want to strengthen my faith and attend church more frequently. Oftentimes, the daily rigamarole of life supersedes making time for the Lord. It's easy to make excuses as to why we just couldn't make it this particular Sunday (i.e. the service is during baby's naptime, it's just too far to travel in the morning, etc.). But I really want to make our spirituality a priority, as are our careers or quality time with friends and family. The pastor's word makes us feel so wholesome and rejuvenated after a challenging work week. I'd like to lengthen that feeling of integrity all week, month and year-long.

I'd also like to study Bible passages in an effort to understand the text around which we center our Christian values.

2. Revitalize intimacy

Since we became a family of three, DH and I have struggled to redefine intimacy. Not just physically but also emotionally. The overwhelming needs of an infant often dominate our lives and it is easy to overlook or outright ignore our spouses' or our own needs. We can no longer rely solely on romantic movie nights, candlelit dinners or a passionate evening to bring us closer. We need to exercise our creativity to find other fulfilling ways to show our affection.

I want to be more aware of this and not just circumvent the issue or procrastinate. I want to be more proactive, which leads me to my next goal.

3. Communicate more effectively

I have never been confrontational so I tend to sweep things under the rug in order to avoid strife. I want to be more open with my feelings so I am not forcing DH to speculate as to my needs or desires. It is unfair to set unrealistic expectations of him or others if I am not explicit.

I also want to deepen my interpersonal relationships with friends by maintaining contact. Since becoming a mom, my social life has dwindled to email or MySpace or Facebook comments. I was never really a party animal but I would like to reconnect with friends face-to-face, whether it be a family-friendly dinner with the boy in tow or a girls' night out sans baby.

May I add, in the blogworld, I'd like to comment more and discover new blogs related to IF, specifically parenting after IF. I used to be a master commenter before the p-words - pregnancy and preparation - consumed my life. Now, with my new 27 inch boss, I hardly have the time to construct an admissable post much less offer useful advice and support to my online buddies. I want to make the time to be there for those who were there for me in my darkest days and continue to follow me on my lighter path.

While I am happy to put my family first above all else, I don't want to lose the small yet priceless support system I have. I do not have many friends so it is imperative to show appreciation to the ones I do have.

4. Lose 5 to 10 more pounds

Perhaps the most generic and selfish of all my goals. It won't really benefit anyone but myself - unless you consider yourself a member of the "happy mommy, happy daddy/baby" camp. Yet I think it would improve my self-image to lose the poundage I gained during my dreaded Clomid days.

As of Christmastime, I have officially reached my prepregnancy weight. Since I was able to do so through breastfeeding alone, I consider that a huge accomplishment. But these pesky 5 to 10 more lbs. will probably be more problematic. I will need to eat healthier - perhaps join Weight Watchers or a similar diet program that is safe for nursing mothers - and exercise (gasp!) to shed them and keep them at bay.

And I will need to accept that I may hang onto a portion of my spare tire until I wean. As much as I love my new faux boob job, I will have to start mourning their loss now, as they are unlikely to hang around once my milk is expired and once they are subjected to the diet and exercise regimen I plan to implement.

5. Transition Nate to his crib successfully for naps and nighttime sleep

This is a small albeit substantial short-term goal. I cherish co-sleeping but I know our days are numbered. I have several sleep books in my arsenal and hope to devise a method to transition him in the next month or two. And since naps are still isolated to his swing, I'd also like to move those to his big, beautiful, yet motionless crib.

Like anything else, it's one step at a time.

State of Uncertainty

I wasn't planning on moving so suddenly but it seems I've been thrust into another state. An anxiety-ridden state of doubt and worry.

Things are not going so swell at DH's job. I've had an inkling for over a month that things were going downhill. But you know how it is. You ignore it. Or you push it to the back of your mind. You're too frightened of the possibility that the breadwinning career is now in jeopardy. You hope for the best and try to be optimistic. You convince yourself things will get better. So you wait until reality smacks you in the forehead and you are forced to take action.

That time is upon us.

I'd say it all started around the time Nate was born, coincidentally. Before our little man arrived, DH was easily working 60 hours a week. He would work his daily weekday shift but also here and there on weeknights and weekends. He's a software engineer by trade so naturally, I've gotten used to sharing my husband with another woman named Toshiba. I've known about the affair for years and have come to accept that it will never change. And surprisingly, I'm okay with the menage a trois.

In the latter days of my pregnancy, DH had asked for 2 weeks vacation upon Nate's birth, which was approved by his boss. He also negotiated telecommuniting 1 day a week. This was to be our insurance policy to supplement my WAH schedule. Together with my mother, we could alternate childcare responsibilities, thus avoiding daycare. He had no need to cash in on this day until Nate was born so we decided he would only start taking this day when my maternity leave ended and it was absolutely necessary.

We had it all planned out.

However, after less than 1 week into his paternity leave, his boss asked demanded him to come back. DH reluctantly agreed. I was not pleased, as I had counted on this parenthood thing to be a collaborative effort for those couple of weeks while I recovered physically. But in the interest of avoiding confrontation, I became a pacifist. Que sera sera.

As the end of my maternity leave drew closer, DH went to his boss to cash in on his telecommuting day. To his shock, his boss said they had implemented a new policy that did not encourage working from home. How convenient. His boss told him that he wasn't going to pay him to do "daddy day care". After DH politely reminded him that it was negotiated prior to this new, unwritten policy - and also duly noted that other employees worked remotely with no hassle - he agreed to honor their agreement.

My antenna went up but I didn't want to worry myself needlessly. Not to be cliche, but men aren't typically as sympathetic to childcare arrangements so I figured DH would just need to prove him it could work. I reasoned that even if DH lost a few hours of productivity on his day at home, he worked plenty of hours otherwise so it wouldn't be too detrimental.

When Nate was about 5 or 6 weeks old, the company underwent some changes to their processes and as a result, DH's title changed from Senior Software Engineer to Technical Manager. This was a fancy way of saying that instead of devoting himself solely to programming, which is his forte, he would have the bonus role of project manager. Two jobs in one with no pay increase. Yipee. Also, he would still have to complete his programming tasks in the same time frame as before, despite the added responsibilities.

Needless to say, DH started to slip. He had a mountain of work to do and he was already working as much as he could without going certifiably insane. He started missing deadlines and became short with co-workers who demanded even more of his precious time. Clients were adding more and more requirements to their list of needs and were getting angry when their projects were not as far along as they should have been. DH kept striding forward - always the "yes" man. He kept assuring everyone he could catch up, not realizing that he was in over his head. He's human after all and has his limits. But his masculinity perceived this limitation as weakness.

On Thursdays, DH's lone telecommuting day, he found it hard to balance fatherhood and his insurmountable workload. Nate would fuss as babies do and DH would take time to soothe him, only to come back to a shitstorm from his boss about how they tried to reach him via IM for an hour (you couldn't pick up the phone?) and if he is continually unavailable, this day would be torn away from him.

DH tried to finally speak up to his boss and let him know how burnt out he was, pleading with him to develop a solution. But his boss was basically too busy to deal with it and dismissed him with little more than "work it out".

When DH came back to work Monday after his trip to Atlanta, his boss told him that calling out on Friday was unprofessional. Shame we didn't get his aunt to call a few weeks ago to give them advanced notice of her death.

All of these little things have snowballed into a huge point of contention. DH's boss took away his projects and put him on menial tasks, telling him that he is no longer confident in his abilities. He also told DH he can no longer work remotely on Thursdays - as if that is the reason behind DH's lackluster performance - and demanded a meeting with him to discuss his future with the company. His boss made it a point to say that there will be no bargaining and "it will not turn into an argument like you like to do." Granted, DH can be a little stubborn and defensive. He's an introvert and has to work with a variety of personalities. He blows up sometimes, despite his best efforts to keep his attitude in check. But who hasn't?

It just seems like they have unreal expectations of him and want to make his life unbearable so he will quit. After all, they're the kind of cheap bastards that would not fire someone just so they didn't have to pay unemployment.

DH is depressed and humiliated. He feels as if everyone there is pitying him. Secretly knowing he's about to get canned.

He's taken the initiative and sent out 12 resumes, a few of which called him back within 24 hours. I guess the M.S. from John's Hopkins really helps. So all hope is not lost. But our future is unclear. What if he does get let go? We only have enough of a safety net to make it 2 months, maybe 3, without his income. And that is supposed to be our savings for downpayment on a house. What if he gets a job offer in another state? What if we have to relocate? What will come of the career I've worked so hard to attain? What in the hell are we going to do on Thursdays now? Who will watch Nate? I can't ask my boss for one more day when I'm already at home more than I'm in the office.

I feel things spinning out of control. I see my DH hanging by a thread and I'm trying to hold him up while fulfilling my own job responsibilities and maintaining my own emotions. Not to mention trying to keep my son happy, which takes up the majority of my days as it is. I was spreading myself thin as it was with my time and attention and now I simply feel inadequate.

I know I have to be the strong one right now but it is so hard. I may look like a stone casing on the outside and that I have it all together. But I feel like a glass vase with a hairline crack - the slightest mishandling could break me.

Lonely So Lonely

DH's aunt passed away Thursday from lung cancer. We knew it was coming since she had been in grave condition for some time. But when we heard the news, it was still a surprise. Funny how that happens.

He flew out to Atlanta yesterday afternoon for the viewing, to be held tonight. He'll fly back tomorrow. I opted to stay at home with the boy - going on a plane with an infant, my infant, is beyond mind boggling to me - but sent my condolences.

So now I find myself quite lonely. Sure, DH pissed me off by playing video games for his final hours at home rather than cleaning the dirty dishes in the sink or taking out the trash. But I still miss the lovable ass.

Instead of going to the pumpkin patch like we had planned, I'm currently drinking a milkshake and subjecting Nate to Sex and The City reruns OnDemand. I've been too couped up recently, working from home. It is not as relaxing as one would think. I go stir crazy when I can only see sunlight through the slats of our Venetian blinds. I need to get out of the house and take in some fresh air. The brisk October weather would be a perfect retreat from the incendiary boredom.

At 12 weeks (!) Nate seems to be going through yet another growth spurt. He's been permanently attached to my boob for two days now, eating like a starving orphan. And on the rare instance that he isn't on the boob, he is chomping on his hands. Hasn't quite mastered the art of the thumb but instead gags himself with his entire fist. I often mistake this for a hunger cue and am quick to whip out the boob, but there are times he will act silly - smacking, unlatching, storing milk in his cheeks like a chipmunk until it all dribbles out of his mouth onto my side - and I know it's just his sucking reflex in full swing. He can't seem to soothe himself unless something is in his mouth but he's so stubborn that he will only accept a paci as an act of desperation. On the instances that he concedes to a paci, I've noticed a pattern. He'll suck quietly and gently for a few minutes and gradually get louder and angrier - grunting with every thrust of the tongue - until he becomes downright belligerent. I have tried two different types - the Soothie and Ortho-Pro - and while he prefers the Soothie, he's not really a fan of either. See for yourself:

I bought some Gerber Natural Flex pacis on a whim at BRU but when I came home and did some research, I found they possibly contained BPA. So, those were a complete waste of $5. I could have had a foot-long Cold Cut Trio from Subway, dammit. I hate the fact that I have to worry about toxic chemicals in baby products but that is an entire post in itself.

And Nate's been much more clingy than usual. He'll only tolerate being put down for about 5 minutes before the crank-fest kicks off and I can only keep him in his miracle swing if he is clearly about to doze off. Proof is in the pudding:

1 minute

3 minutes

5 minutes

He insists I spend the entire day standing or walking while bouncing him. Not that he cares if his limp 14 lb. body cuts off all circulation in Mommy's arms. Or if my knees buckle from under me due to sheer exhaustion.

He's also back in the habit of fighting sleep. But this time - instead of fighting bedtime - he's fighting his daytime naps. He'll yawn relentlessly and he can barely keep his rosy eyelids from closing, but he'll pout and cry until he's nearly unconscious. And when he wakes up from his coma, he does it with a vengeance. He's sure to let me know he's in need of some lunch and some afternoon delight cuddles.

I have to admit that while I miss the adult interaction and despite his recent cantankerousness , I am fond of our time together alone. Just us. Every smile reminds me that I'm doing something right. Each day we get through, I gain more confidence that maybe I'm not so clueless at this whole motherhood thing.