A note from Fred

It seems Christie has too little time to blog, so let me take the opportunity.

There have been a few changes around here. Just a few. (Hope you sense my sarcasm). You know why she has no time? Because she spends every second with the little one called Dominic.

A guy lives with his people for 10 years and you expect life to keep on rolling the same everyday, until BAM! One day they bring a little mini human home. Sure they introduced us to him out in the yard to be respectful, blah blah blah. But so what. It's not like they weren't going to take him on in the house whether Iris and I gave our blessing or not.

I feel like I'm stuck in a cliche Disney movie, only Iris is much less romantic than the Tramp. So I'm lacking the whole romantic comedy angle in my version, and what good is that movie without the spaghetti scene under the moonlight? I'll tell you- it's no good for the dog who just had a baby move into his house.

No barking in the house. (Well this was kind of a rule before, but trust me, they are serious about it now!)

You'll have to wait for your dinner. The baby gets fed first- BOO!

No more walks. Stroller + leashes = a headache for everyone. How about subtract the stroller instead of the leashes??

People who come to visit are not here to see you. I feel seriously ignored.

Blankets layed on the floor are not for you. Maybe I would like to lay on a blanket- did anyone think of that?!

New squeaky toys are not for you. Um...?

Stay away from the diaper pail. I swear I'm always in trouble.

And Jesus, be careful when getting a drink. Every time my tags clank against the water bowl I think Christie is going to jump out of her skin. I can't even get a drink in my own house!

And could a guy get some petting once in a while?

I knew something was up when Christie started looking very swollen. Something was not right. Well, we know how that one turned out. I'll know better next time. Learned my lesson.

Yep, babies are no good for the dog.

Though... he did pet me for the first time yesterday. It was pretty sweet actually. And he does smell good. And he's starting to try to talk to me. So maybe I might like him...

No! I'm sticking to my story. A baby is no good for the dog!

(I think...)

Month One

Dominic is one month old today. It's one of those time frames that has flown and inched all at the same time. It's a 24 hour gig, so I feel every hour. But the hours have become more joy filled and less anxiety filled. My little boy is a wonderful communicator and has taught me what his different signals mean. I can now shift my appreciation to his slate-blue eyes that more and more often lock with mine, or his little milk-laced tongue that shoots in and out of his mouth after eating. And as crazy as it sounds, I've grown to enjoy the 1 am feedings. It's so quiet and peaceful, dimly lit, and sweet. My baby has kindly grown to sleeping good chunks of night time, so we only get up once a night (most of the nights, knock on wood...).

I've especially loved getting to witness this new little being experience everything for the first time. He has become a pro at transitioning from the bath to the towel Dad holds open for him. The first exit from the warm water was with a panicked screeching of a poor baby who had never felt the immediate cold rush to wet skin. Today he made me laugh with another first. My friend Danielle has asked me if he's learning that his hands belong to himself yet. Until now, I said, I'm not sure. Now I can say, no, he still has no idea where these hands come from or who controls them. Today, as he lay on the couch swimming away with all four limbs, he reach up and grabbed a fist full of his own dark duck-feathery-hair, and then squealed. Someone was pulling his hair! The hand did not let go, so he squealed again. Finally the hand released, and he looked at me.

I'm looking forward to the hand-discovery, because I fear he thinks I might be the one always smacking him in the face, and now pulling his hair.

I did it!

This is a seriously proud day for me!

I successfully went to the grocery store with my 13 day old baby!!!

That may not sound like much, but trust me, it was a HUGE accomplishment. In order to complete this task I had to feed my baby, and get him dressed and happy so that I could get dressed in something of the non-pajama-variety. (This in itself is big.) Next, I got him out of the house and figured out the car seat. Then we strolled around the store for almost an hour without any crying or screaming (from either of us!). And then I got myself, Dominic, and the groceries home and unloaded. All by myself!!!!

This is a seriously proud day for me.

Dominic

And the journey begins.

Save Me From Myself

Having a baby may be the best thing I've ever done. And I haven't even had him yet. We are in waiting mode at the moment. I'm due in 10 days, but I'm willing him to come early. So any moment now...


The waiting game has proved to be everything I expected it not to be. It's oddly relaxing. Potentially it's a hair-pulling wait, but I have let go of the platinum fist-fulls in order to allow my body to open up. Literally. So each day I am waking up with really no plans, no schedule, no expectation. The day is blocked out to have a baby. What am I doing tomorrow? Having a baby. What is my schedule for next week? Having a baby. What are my plans for this summer? Um, yes- I'm having a baby. I've never had such a stress-free schedule in my life. Now, it seems that this could be one of the most anticipation-filled, stress-riddled summers ever. But, I'm telling you, it's not. I have finally achieved the balance and genuine day-to-day living that I've been searching for in my years of practicing meditation, yoga and all-other-things-zen-enhancing. Who knew reproducing would have landed me here?! I should have done this years ago!


And here's my biggest secret: I kind of expected it to come to this.


Since I was in my teens, the idea of being a parent truly scared the shit out of me. It's the one thing I've ever doubted I could do well. It always surprised me how sure most people were- they couldn't wait!- they would one day be parents. It seemed as though they were hardwired to reproduce. I remember a conversation in 7th grade with one of my oldest and greatest friends, Michael Bunchman. For whatever reason 12 year olds would be talking about being parents, I found myself in this conversation, and I was honest when I told him I never wanted to have kids. "Never?!" he said shocked. And then his tone changed to someone much older than his 12 years when he said, "No, you will one day. You'll change your mind."

I think that conversation has stuck with me for so many years because a) at the time I was highly annoyed at his response, and b) it was an eerie piece of foreshadowing stuck into my walking-to-the-bus-after-school-average-day. And ten years later, I found myself overdoing and overscheduling to try to fill some void that I wasn't even aware existed. Ignorantly, I plowed forward in seven different directions apparently trying everything that could possibly inspire me in some way, all while still ignoring the path labeled "Parenthood," because I'd decided many years ago that path was closed to me. I learned the great art of Vipassana meditation, got my masters, completed triathlons and half marathons, learned Spanish and knitting and how to snowboard...and was still searching. What should I do next?


And having said all of that, though it took me still eight more years, I woke up one day and decided I really wanted to have a family. (Ugh! How cliche! What happened to me?!) Nothing- no project, no career move, no degree- sounded as exciting as starting a family with Kris. And all along, there has been a little piece of that eerie foreshadowing whispering in my ear that this is what I was meant to do. This would be my greatest accomplishment, the job that gave me the most pride. You were right, Michael.


Ugh! How cliche! Seriously, what happened to me?!

Here comes the sun

It is summer- finally- and I am settling back into relaxation, into calm, into myself. The space that has come with the sun is so liberating. So much so that I have to fight back an urge to multitask, or reprimand myself for enjoying not multitasking. I absolutely love moving at my own pace, not living by a clock. It will all get done. That is the biggest lesson I am taking from the long, dark winter that has just passed. It will all get done.


I have to say that the end of the school year was very enjoyable. The intensity of my school ran strong to the very end, only it took on another shade- one of generosity, appreciation, and kindness. There was no shortage of cards, gifts, and genuine thanks in the final weeks. I was overwhelmed more than once by my classroom community and their good will toward me and the baby. I received more thanks and gifts this year than all of my other 7 years combined. Even so, I'm not sure I didn't prefer my old environment where half of the parents forgot my name most of the time. Gifts aren't necessarily worth the constant doubt and anxiety.


Ah, but the sun has finally arrived. The sky has found it's perfect hue of blue. Neglected pieces of my life are sprouting and blooming like the irises in my front garden. I have missed the sun more than I realized. And perhaps I appreciate it more than ever as well.

Kibbles 'N Bits

There are many new and interesting experiences that come with being pregnant. Of course you have a live miniature human growing in your abdomen which is very cool and very odd at the same time. But I'm not talking about the new physiological experiences. It's the social changes that are surprising. You don't read about these in the baby books. They are just small exchanges that happen very casually, yet leave a big impression. On me at least.

First, people are so nice and courteous to pregnant women. Everyone steps out of the way and let's you pass first, no matter where you are, or how much space is available. A sweet smile glows back at you as you pass. Suddenly you should not be allowed to carry anything, pick up anything, reach for anything, or really move quickly whatsoever. It's a very wonderful, but at the same time sad reflection on our society that only in this time of my 30 years have I been treated so nicely.

While strangers in the public suddenly see me as someone to be taken care of, I still see myself as me, doing what I usually do. Until one day I didn't. In this case I'm not talking about lifting paint cans. I'm talking about myself as a social person in my usual social situations, and it suddenly-rather abruptly- feeling very different.

Last month, my hubby and I took a final trip together to visit some good friends in Chicago. It was a fabulous trip. The weather was cooperative so we were able to walk the city much of the time taking in the scenery and culture alike. We went to amazing restaurants, stayed in a swanky hotel, and enjoyed wonderful conversation and laughter with our friends. One night after dinner, they wanted to take us to a new, cool lounge that had fireplaces, modern decor and floor to ceiling windows that showcased the view of the 28th floor. Sweet, let's go!

We get there, and the place is as amazing as the promised, only tonight, it looks like a scene out of Studio 54. Ok, not really, but it was packed and bumpin. There was no lounging. There was dancing, picture taking, drinks and apps all around. Sounds fabulous, right?! Six months ago, this would have been my new favorite spot. I would have been first in line at the bar getting everyone a drink and out dancing to Crystal Water's 100% Pure Love.

And here's where the aforementioned "abrupt" change in me happened.

I was a little horrified.

My brain was not immediately excited by the sights and sounds of this perfect little spot. Rather, all I could think of was the 2nd club scene in Knocked Up when a very pregnant Katherine Heigl is trying to get into a club with her...um, older sister. The bouncer refuses to let them in saying, "Can't have no old, pregnant bitches runnin around. She should be home. That's just bad parenting."

OMG. Who do I think I am out a glam club? I took my coat off only when it became unavoidable, then held it in front of my Joey pouch the rest of the time we were there. I was trying to process what just happened, and mourning a little piece of my life that would never be the same. Of course I'll go out again, and I'd love to find that place in particular next time around, but life as I've known it in my adult years, is officially different. And that, I was not ready for. No, you don't read about that in the baby books.

I'm seven months pregnant now and still have not settled on a name for our little boy. We have a few good contenders, but nothing is really sticking. The second question everyone asks after, "How are you feeling?" is "Do you have a name picked out yet?" I have met several moms-to-be who play the "yes, but we're not telling," card, which as a former asker, I was always a little turned off by this, like I was intruding by asking. Personally, I tell everyone who asks our ideas, because I want true reactions. I don't want to pick out a name, think it's perfect, present our baby and hear "oh, how cute!" only to have people go home and say, "what were they thinking?!" Call me shallow, but public opinion matters, even to the "we're keeping it a secret" moms. Otherwise they'd be happy to tell you.

And so, I've had lots of conversations about names. With everyone in my life. And I've been shocked at how much people really do like thinking about names. In a effort to be polite, I try to let the topic die away after an exchange or two, but most people keep the conversation going. So I've gathered up lots of suggestions in the last few months, and I leave you with the BEST one-the Kibbles 'N Bits story, I like to call it.

One afternoon before a staff meeting a colleague of mine gave the "how are your feeling? have you picked out a name?" spiel. I gave my usual replies and she told me her sister had just had a little boy and she just loved the name. With a very well intended smile she said,

"You should name him Dixon!"

Uh-huh, yeah that's cute. I'll keep that in mind, I told her. I sat there thinking:

A. Why would you pick any name so close to Dick for a poor child?
B. You know my last name, right?! Why would you pick any name so close to Dick for a poor child, and then pair it with Cox?????!!!!!

And then the C. part of this didn't come until I retold the story and actually said the name out loud for the first time.

Dixon Cox.

Go ahead, say it out loud, more than once if you like.

It's the name that keeps on giving.