Dedication

Mimi has a play dedicated to her- if you're in the area, go see it and/or send everyone you know to see it. What a beautiful thing for the Firehouse Theatre Project to do. We are all truly touched by this.

Sicko Mama

Our Little Punk Rocker Boy- He's Such a Badass! (Taken Monday morning, 1 month old)

Our Brave Little Family (Taken After Jonah's Bris, 8 days old)

I'm feeling like a sack of rotten ass, and its so much harder to be sick when you've got a newborn to take care of. Luckily, we were blessed with a super mellow baby (which he clearly gets from his father's side, might I just point out), so he's cool with just hanging out in bed with Maman...as long as there's a boob in the vicinity he's pretty much okay with anything.

The days are flying by now...yet somehow each individual day seems so long. A good friend of mine's grandfather says that when you have kids the days are reallllly long and the months/years are really short. Truer words have never been spoken. And somehow, in these really long days, I'm supremely lucky if I find the time to shower (you'd be pretty grossed out if you knew how infrequently that happens), much less blog, return phone calls and/or emails, and forget about the dishes. I think we'd be eating cereal for every meal if the wonderful Sarachkah hadn't arranged for people to bring us meals through March. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and I'm here to tell you it most certainly does. And damn, I'm so lucky to have the excellent village that I have.

Through the homebirth community and our Birthing From Within class (we all still keep in touch and get together once a week, although Jonah is by far the baby of the group, born about 8 weeks after everyone else) I'm so surrounded by all these awesome Mamas who have been my salvation, feeding my body and spirit with nothing but positivity...which has been so helpful with all of the challenges we've been facing between grieving Mimi's death and the heartbreakingly frustrating milk supply issues. I'm hanging on by my fingernails most days, but its so great to know that there's a safety net of women should I lose my grip and fall.

One day maybe I will feel like myself again?

Okay, back to bed for the LFM and I- gotta grab the windows of sleep when we can.

Catch Up

Photos of the LFM's Bris (at 8 days old), In which he was much braver and cried far less than his woos of a mother.

I know, I know... I have yet to expound on the many fabulous and adorable qualities of our most excellent monkey, his highness the king of cuteness and super stinky farts. Time is not on my side, no it ain't. We're having some frustrations with breastfeeding, which I really don't want to talk about until it's all resolved, but these frustrations not only make me want to repeatedly bang my head against a wall, they also are incredibly time consuming. I am chained to this apartment and the pump, for the most part. Now for the first 2-3 weeks I wanted nothing more than to stay in the apartment, in our wonderful cozy birth den. But now, a month into it, I'm ready for a little more flexibility than I'm currently afforded.

But I'm not going to spend the precious few moments I have focusing on the negative. Instead, I'm going to tell you how amazing and funny and fun motherhood is. Yes, even at 4am.

The LFM thinks both WB and I must be covered in nipples, and if he just tries hard enough, he'll find one. He's like the world's cutest woodpecker, constantly hurling himself at our bodies in search of a nipple. Sometimes when he's nursing, he lets go of the nipple and then gets super panicky about it and suddenly the missing nipple is a 4 alarm fire in his little world and all systems are kicked into overdrive until the nipple is safely rescued from oblivion and lovingly put back into his screaming mouth. We're certain that when he dreams, he dreams of a giant boob with arms and legs, cradling him in heavenly comfort. And when he has little baby nightmares, its of the boob, on a train, wearing a 1940's hat with veil, and waving an embroidered handkerchief from the train window as the steam engines roar to life and the train begins chugging away with poor little Jonah running behind it screaming for his beloved boob.

Clearly we are sleep deprived.

He does talk to it- he babbles this adorable babble only when he's nursing. I'm certain he's composing brilliant love poems- odes to the boobs. It cracks me up when he does it.

But the most amazing thing of all- the most wonderous beautiful thing in the whole world- is when my litttle monkey smiles at me, sending rays of light from his enormous dark eyes. Its the most indescribably joyous thing. And no, its not gas, its definitely in response to what I'm doing. And its my favorite thing in the whole world.

Our Beautiful Boy (No, Seriously, This Baby Is Adorable Y'all...and I'm Not Biased At All!)

All pictures courtesy of the amazingly talented Meghan McSweeney- go to her website and check out her work! Better yet, hire her!