Happy New Year 2008!

Update on the weaning

As just punishment for my having been shamelessly sentimental about the weaning process, my boobs have decided to make my waking hours utterly miserable. That's right - classic weaning complications, complete with engorgement, plugged ducts and I think even masititis (a few days ago I had fever, chills, nausea and a desire to just lay down and never move a muscle again). At the moment, I've resorted to stuffing my bra with cabbage leaves to shut down the milk factory.

K, however, is doing well and has never looked back. Ah, c'est la vie!
http://picasaweb.google.com/susan.liew/BabyBelugaDance?authkey=pwUPFhY42yM

As in all things, this too is bittersweet

It's been 5 (5!!) days since K has nursed at the ol'e boob. I daresay, she is weaned.
And where, pray tell, is my exuberance at this feat?
I thought all I wanted to be was free of nursing, especially after K's demands to nurse (and they did turn to very insistent demands) grew more infrequent and inconvenient. And if J and I were going to plan for baby #2, then the nursing would have to end as well. Which is why last Wednesday, while K and I were having grilled cheese and tomato soup at Nordstrom Cafe, I laid out the facts to her.

Me: Do you want to have a baby brother/sister with whom to play and terrorize?
K: Yes

Me: Mommy can only have baby if K stops nursing
K: (Gazing off into the distance)

Me: So we'll stop nursing from now on, Ok?
K: (Still gazing)

Me: (Starting to sweat profusely and getting nervous) Should we go to the toy store?
K: Yes

And believe it or not, K didn't demand to be nursed the entire day. And later that night, she came over to me, gave the o'le boobs a pat for good measure, giggled, and then cried on and off for about an hour until she fell asleep. I lay asleep crying far longer because the image of your first born looking at you with unhappy but trusting eyes does funny things to your emotions at 1am.
It's almost over. After 4 nights of no one in this household getting to sleep before midnight, K finally dozed off at 11pm. Which is how I came to race downstairs to record these thoughts and feelings before they pass. So much has been felt by mothers the world over with regard to this singular and miraculous bond between mother and child, exhilirating in its purity and strength. Any more I can say will surely sound trite.
Nursing K has been such a blessing. I can't count the numbers of prayers made on behalf of wanting K to latch, wanted more milk supply for K, wanting my boobs to just stop being sore for 2 seconds. And at the end of the road, K and I are so much more tightly wound together for it. (why did I add in this last bit?? you'd think i was writing an essay for college admissions. cheeeesy.)

Thanksgiving 2007

A bit of a belated thanksgiving post! Our thanksgiving holiday this year was largely spent driving - to NJ, then to NYC for a day, then around NJ visiting a couple friends. We are lucky that K didn't grow sores on her tush from all that time in the car - and that I didn't hurl "Where is Spot" out the window after reading it for the 45th time.
The holidays are far more exciting now that K can get infected with our excitement! She seemingly understands that this is a time of year laced with good food, friends and family and tons of sweets. The only thing that hasn't changed since last Thanksgiving - she refuses to eat turkey, regardless of how much cranberry sauce it's hiding under.

Thanksgiving 2007 - moments before settling into a food coma

Thanksgiving 2006 - wow, look at those cheeks. What a load to carry around.

Aspirator: Tool of relief or fiendish torture?

If J and I vehemently disagree about anything, it is but this: the use of the aspirator when K has a cold. J thinks all an aspirator accomplishes is in stretching out K's petite nostrils. I, on the other hand, hail the aspirator as the most important weapon in the battle against gallons of mucous congealed in K's sinuses. I don't know who's right, but I do know who suffers: K and only K. Just look at her!! Ok, this photo was taken nearly 18 months ago but that's not the point. 18 months later and I still wince when I see how helpless she is in this photo. If only babies weren't born so vulnerable. If only K could have snatched the aspirator from my grip and snapped "how'd you like to have something that's 25 times the size of your nose jammed up your nose??"
Fast forward 18 months later. K, now nearly 20 months, enduring her umpteenth cold, has finally found her voice. Today, when I neared her, aspirator in hand, she jumped and fled screaming "noooo!" And in the evening, as I was getting ready to put her down to sleep, she demanded "mama take booger out". Ah, what exuberant relief to finally be able to understand my child's wants and needs! Surely this will cut down on the amount of egregious mistakes I make as a parent. And if not, there's always psychotherapy. Just kidding!

It's beginning to look a lot like winter when...

waking up in the morning, you find a pair of these at the bottom of the stairs.

K's first pair of "booties". This is her first pair since I neglected to knit K a pair of booties when she was a newborn, which is merely item #29 on the list of "Ways that I failed my newborn child because I was clueless and terrified and exhausted and did I tell you after 12 weeks I had a 90 minute commute to work, 75 minutes if I got lucky." Actually, did I ever tell you that K? Why did I do it? Why wasn't I home knitting booties??

Ah, I remember now. Because I didn't even know what booties were. Which goes to show what tremendous strides I've made in 19.5 months. Aside from my bootie revelation, I have come to notice children everywhere. Have they always been there, but just on the periphery of my single, then married-but childless, vision? Moreover, I have discovered children are refreshing, a deep long drink for a parched soul. Especially K. This will sound like gushing no matter how much I want to avoid it, but quite simply, I cannot get enough of K these days. With the exception of her refusing to eat the fifth consecutive variety of food I offer her for lunch or deliberately removing the straw out of her cup and creating an ankle-deep pool of orange juice on the floor (it's only 8am K!! mommy hasn't even brewed the coffee!!), I really have become a bit lovestruck. It must be that K's personality is finally at full bloom and thus I am entranced by all that she expresses throughout the day:

In the morning, when asking what she wants for breakfast: "Croissants at la madeline!"

After coming back from la madeline, when offering her an egg: "Eat egg on sofa!"

Throught the day: "Mama read book moon book!" (as she is obsessed with "Papa, please get the moon for me")

The hour before J gets home: "Where dada? Mama find dada!!"

No doubt with time, all the demands will eat away at my soul instead of delighting it, especially when it involves extending curfews and dating a leather-clad biker named Bubba. But for now, the days with K are a wonder to me.

The official trick or treat night

The outfit

The loot

A loose interpretation of the above gesture:

Me: "Would you like your first taste of chocolate and embark on a life-long journey of being a choco-holic like your dear mum?"
K: "I dare say, that interests me not in the least. Please unburden me of these sweets and while you are at it, do pass the broccoli."