Does anybody besides me..

realize that max has something in his mouth in about every picture we have taken of him?

Max's first Thanksgiving and Mom's gratitude

Yesterday, Brandon, Max, and I went power shopping for about 4 hours. Brandon and I had intended to buy ourselves something fun--neither one of us can recall when we bought something for ourselves--but of course we ended up just buying stuff for Max. Max got 4 books, 2 sets of blocks, the little hoop thing, a sweatshirt, and the Laughing Puppy.

One of the books Max got was called "On the Day You Were Born." I decided to read it to Max last night (we read a book every day--I really think Max will love to read because he seriously acts like he loves it. He holds the book with me, stares at the pictures, and smiles at me as I read.)

I ended up crying.

I know it's just a kid's book, but it really is such a powerful read. It's about all the love for a baby and how the world was just waiting for the baby to come.

After I read it, I wiped away the tears (of joy), I began feeding Max and rocking him to sleep. As I rocked him, I thought about just how much I love him, and how grateful I am to have him in my life.

I know it sounds so cheesey, but I feel like a better person because of Max. To an extent, I feel like a different person because of him. I never really thought that there was anything different between mothers and non-mothers, but there really is. I don't think someone who is not a mother can understand just how much love I have. And I'm not trying to belittle adoptive mothers or c-section mommies, but it just seems like the act of delivery itself is such a powerful moment, and my body and heart has been forever changed because of it. It's not just the physical and biological changes that have made me different, but I honestly feel like my heart and soul and spirit have changed. It's almost like I don't know if a non-mommy could ever really connect with me or understand me. I am so different now.

I love my Max. And I am grateful for my Max.

I loved holding him that very first time. I was so tired, so thirsty, so emotionally and physically drained. And even though my stomach was empty, my heart became so full of love for him.

I have loved watching him grow from a tiny little squirt to a miniature person.

I love holding him really tight against my chest and watching him sleep, his eyes closed and his little heart pounding very quietly in his chest.

I love reading to him. I hope he loves to read just like I do.

I love playing with him.

I live to see him smile, and there is no greater joy in my heart than hearing him laugh. My day has not been made until I see that little grin and hear that sweet little giggle.

Max has really made me learn to love more. And love better. I sincerely feel I am a better teacher because of him; I see each of my students now as some momma's baby, and I want to give that momma's baby the best because I know I want my own baby to have the best.

Happy first Thanksgiving, little buddy. Your momma loves you.

Yes.....

I know he's spoiled.

I realize I have a problem. I know I am spoiling him.

But I cannot stop.

I might need counseling.

Man, my parents are suckers

Word up, ladies. This is Max. I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, let me know and I'll hook you up. Seriously. If I tell my parents I want something, or even indicate that I would remotely enjoy something, they run out and get it for me.

They bought me a multi-million dollar exersaucer last night. It was the most expensive saucer on the block. Since Mom's the sucker in the family, she was telling my Pops that I really needed it, and that it would flatter my hair and eyes. She wouldn't even let him look at the saucers that didn't at least cost triple digits.

Sucker.

So, let me know what you need, and Mr. Max can make it happen.

Love,
Mr. Max

Max on his parents

man, my mom is soooooooooooooooooooooo cooooooooooooooooooooooooooool.

dad is not.

love, max

Max is actually a pretty good kid

(Yes, mother, I know I have not posted anything substantial in quite a while. Fact is, I've been busy. Grades were due at the end of October, and then we had parent-teacher conferences last week. I actually had a couple of parents ask me how I do it all--being a new mother, a teacher at 2 schools, and still manage to do as much with the Latin Club as I do. I really don't know how. Sometimes I wonder if I am just skating by and doing everything just mediocre. I hope not.)

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Despite his many areas needing improvement (which include SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP--his sleeping habits are terrible--his constant drooling, poor table manners, lack of interest in learning algebra and Latin, his inability to clean up after himself and earn his keep in the house, etc.), Max is actually a pretty good kid.

I would even go so far as to say that I kinda like him.

Heck, I think I love him.

He's actually quite the friendly little booger. He's peaceful and patient (he got that from Brandon)--I took him with me to school yesterday, and he managed to stay there and entertain himself and also put up with all the idiots wanting to see him and gawk at him, and he did not throw a single BF.

He's gonna be smart. With me as his mother and Brandon as his father, he has to be. I know it's really early, but I think I can already see his intelligence starting to poke through. He's constantly observing things; he likes to walk around with me throughout the house--he sits on my hip now so he can face forward--and he just watches very peacefully everything I do. When I get a glass of water, he watches me open the cupboard, get the glass, turn on the faucet, fill the glass, and then he watches as I drink it. It's actually fun to watch him watch me.

He's always happy. I love listening to him laugh. He has so many different laughs--squeals, giggles, and full-blown rolling-on-the-floor laughs.

And he makes me happy. I'm pretty sure I smile more with Max around. In fact, at parent-teacher conferences, another parent was asking how I manage being a new mom and teaching, and I said that I am just really happy with where I am now. He replied, "You look it--I can tell."

I am happy. Never been happier.

The past two days have been really nice because it has just been me and Max. He's so different from the way he was during the summer (when he was just born) when it was just me and him--I don't know if it sounds bad to say this or not, but I enjoy my time with him more now than I did. I think it's because he has so much personality now. He's such a little person, and it's so much more fun--and certainly more rewarding--being with him.

I think he loves me, too.

Max's thoughts on food

I like bananers. B-a-n-a-n-a-s. I like to say bananers.

Sweet pataters are ok.

Carrots are ok.

That is all.

Except I am really looking forward to eating pizza, popcorn, and ice cream.

Max's Christmas List (revised)

Hi. This is Max. My crazy Grandma Jackie ("old bag") told my beautiful mother that she needed to update the blog, so I told my beautiful mother that I would do it for her. My beautiful mother has more important things to do than humor the old bag.

Anyway, since it's like the end of October and all, and the holiday season is right around the corner, I figured I could share with the world my Christmas list.

So here ya go:

1. First and foremost, I need a new tv. Personally, I am getting quite sick of waiting for the tv to "warm up" just when I am ready to watch my America's Next Top Model or Whammy.
2. Other entertainment devices--"toys." I would like an ExerSaucer (or something like that) and other educational toys.
3. Jewelry for my beautiful mother.
4. Someone to babysit me for a night so that my beautiful mother and my ugly tachycardic father can go stay in a hotel and get some sleep. I have the habit of waking up 7 times a night, so beautiful mom and tachycardic dad have not slept for longer than 3 hours in 18 weeks. I guess they deserve it now.
5. White socks.


Please note that I don't need any clothes EXCEPT FOR LIKE 234U897089460Q PAIRS OF WHITE SOCKS. I plan on being naked EXCEPT FOR WHITE SOCKS.

The end.
Love, Max

We ain't so short and fat no more

Max had his 4 month appt yesterday. The vitals:
weight: 15.3 pounds (literally the 50th percentile, so average)
length: 25 inches (again, literally the 50th percentile)

Soooooooooooooooooooo.....I don't understand why everyone is always calling him a fattie when he is right where he should be. He's a good looking kid if you ask me.

We also got the green light to give him rice cereal. He really did not know what to expect at first and wouldn't really open his mouth for a bite, but after half a dozen or so spoonfuls, he caught on and was soon trying to eat the spoon and had his mouth open as soon as he saw me bring the spoon toward his mouth. We caught the whole episode on camera; it was really hysterical to experience.

It's about freaking time

Max has finally rolled over. I was assisting him yesterday, but today he did it on his own. He is almost 4 months old, and apparently he should be able to do it by 4 months, so I guess he is not behind in that regard.

And I wasn't in the room to witness it! I was making a bottle and Brandon saw it. Guess we'll have to take his word for it.

Max is also talking A LOT. I think he is going to be an early talker; I think I was an early talker and so was Brandon, so Max will probably be early as well. It's funny because Max just sits there and babbles and babbles like he thinks he's saying something really important.

Any bets on his first words and when he'll say them?

I bet MAMA, quickly followed by RANCID (cuz I am always calling him that), and then BIG BLACK DOG (that's what he calls Shelley).

By request: Jennifer's mechanical skill

Because my mother wanted it, here be my entry about my mechanical skill:

I cannot work an electric can opener. This is why the only can opener you will ever find in my house is a hand-held one.

I cannot operate a DVD player or VCR player.

I often get confused with the remote control.

I have absolutely no idea how to work the Diaper Genie. Brandon did give me a lesson, but much like his other lessons (like how to operate the DVD player), I didn't pay attention because I knew that he could always do it for me.

In my world, a screw driver and a wrench are the same thing. Is there a difference? Seriously?

I couldn't hook the printer to the computer to save my life.

I barely know how to operate Pippi's harness.

It took me 10 minutes to figure out how to fold the stroller the first time I had to do it. It was after my 6 week postpartum appointment and it was 304 degrees outside and I had Max in the nice air-conditioned car, and I spent 154 minutes cussing up a storm because I didn't listen to Brandon's lesson on how to operate the stroller and that's why it took me 167856397869 minutes to fold.

Max has like 1786896896897585 pairs of cute little overalls but he rarely wears them because I have absolutely NO idea how to put them on him. I kid not.

It took me 4 days to figure out how to put a onesie on Max.

7 days to put a diaper on the kid.

The vacuum? Well, I can't change the vacuum bag when full. But Brandon can and that's all that is important to me.

I can't set a watch or any of the clocks in the house. That's why I am up a creek come daylight savings time. Thank goodness I have my slave, I mean, my husband.

I will feel very bad for Brandon if Max takes after his mother with regard to mechanical ability.

Losing and finding yourself again

I've always heard that when you have a baby, you lose a part of yourself--that mothers (and I guess fathers, too) sometimes forget who they are because they are so focused on their child. I must admit that I was afraid of losing some of my identity once I had Max--I was afraid that I would cease being the unique individual that is me and simply become "Mom."

I've lost bits of myself over the years. There's pieces of me scattered from California to Lebanon to Kirksville to Austin to Mexico to St. Louis. I've lost important parts of myself that I didn't even realize I had lost before I moved on to the next place.

And while I am now known as "Mom" (or, as Max affectionately calls me in his little flat head, "old bag"), I think I have rediscovered the pieces of myself that I had lost a long, long time ago.

I now know what I lost, and Max has helped me find them.

A long, long time ago, I was a writer. My parents know this, my husband knows this, old friends know this. For some reason I ceased being a writer during my sophomore year in college. I don't know why.

Actually, I do.

I think it's because starting then, writing became a chore for me. I loved my creative writing classes my freshman year and wrote some pretty good stuff, but after that class, all of my other writings were simply academic and boring. I had to write 20 pages interpreting Chopin's "Awakening" from a Buddhist perspective (which, by the way, earned me an A). I had to write a 30 pages English major thesis examining cannibalism in the "Thyestes." I got sick of writing and just quit.

But now that I have Max, I think I have rediscovered just how much I miss it and just how important it was to my being. I have more reasons to write now.

I want to write now.

And I think I know myself better now than I ever have before. For some reason, Max has made me think about who I am and reexamine what I want to be because I know that who I am will influence who he will eventually become.

I'm all of 28 years old and I think I have reached a moment of clarity. I know that there is so much more I have yet to discover about myself and my world, but I do know that Max has made me feel like I have found what I think I lost sight of a long, long time ago.

I guess I never realized that I missed myself until Max came along.

How is it possible....

that a baby whose socks are no bigger than my thumb has NOT lost a single sock in the dryer?

How is that possible????????????????????

Between us, Brandon and I lose probably a sock every 2 weeks in the dryer. And our socks, of course, are like a million times bigger than Max's socks. So, can someone explain how Max is not losing any socks?

Is there some magical sock fairy who watches over his socks when they are being dried?

What makes me a good dad...

I have clean-up duty. That's right. I clean up things. Often this involves fixing whatever mess Jennifer has made. For example, those stylin socks that she puts on Max--she puts them on wrong. Actually, she doesn't really put them on. They just cover his toes. So, I get to clean up and put them on right. I also fix his swaddle. That's been happening quite a bit lately because he likes to wiggle around and free his arms. He looks like he's trying to get out of a straight jacket. Sometimes I get to fix his diaper when the tabs look messed up or he ends up with a wedgie. Don't ask me how he gets a wedgie in his diaper. I'm also the one that gets to work the overalls. Jennifer usually just stares at them with a little question mark above her head.

In addition to those clean-up duties, I have the distinct pleasure of emptying the Diaper Genie. That's really fun. I am also the official sterilizer of the house. It is for these reasons that I am, in fact, a good father.

Thank you. Finis.

What makes me a good mom....

I know that each person is her harshest critic, and I am constantly berating myself and calling myself a terrible mother. While I really don't think I am a terrible mother, I do wish there are some things I had done or could have happened differently.

First, I wish life were perfect and I was super rich and could work just part-time. I really don't want to ever be a stay-at-home mom (I'd go CRAZY), but I do think I could handle part-time. I could still be with Max more but also have a job to keep me busy. I am gone every day from 6:15 AM until 3:15 PM (and until 4:15 on Thursdays), and I really hate being away from Max for that long.

I also wish I had video-taped Max's birth. We have pictures, thanks to the doula, but I wish I had video. I didn't want video originally because I thought it would be gross, but now that the birth is over and done with, I wish I had a video to watch because I remember so little. I was so exhausted and just overwhelmed with emotion--there was so much to take in and I didn't have the energy to take it all in--that I don't really have that many memories of his birth. I just remember crying.

Perhaps the one thing I regret most is something I had absolutely no control over. I wish I had been able to hold Max as soon as he was born. Instead, because I had been in labor forever and had developed a fever and needed oxygen and all that good stuff, they had to thoroughly check Max out as soon as he was born. I didn't get to hold him for 30 minutes until after he was born, and the whole time, I just lay there and cried for my baby. There's all sorts of research about how vital those first few minutes of life are for a baby and his emotional connection with his parents, and I just hope I won't miss out because the doctors were working on him and me and I didn't get to hug and kiss him until much later.

But despite all that, I do have to give myself some kudos. Like I said, there are things I wish could have happened differently, but for all intents and purposes, I think I'm a pretty good mom.

I know how to hold him just right. No one else can get Max to sleep as fast as me. No one else knows how to hold just the way he likes it when he is really sleepy and needs help falling asleep.

No one else does paddycake the way Max and I do. We have our own special version that no one else knows (primarily because it changes every time we do it).

I'm not afraid to make an idiot of myself, especially when playing with Max.

If there's a cup of coffee to be had and Max is crying and I have to choose what to go to, I'd go to Max.

I read every pregnancy book there was and took such good care of myself while pregnant. Didn't even drink coffee (or at least caffeine), if you can believe that. Didn't color my hair, didn't have any alcohol, didn't get my heart rate above 140 bpm, didn't eat funky cheeses, didn't do anything that could possibly be detrimental to Max's development.

I really don't watch that much tv anymore. I can only think of 3 shows I watch (2 on Wednesday and one on Thursday). I don't want Max to watch tv, despite what the pictures lead you to think (we just took pics of him in his bumbo with the remote because we thought it was cute).

I know what sort of socks a male should wear, and I won't let him walk out of the house with inappropriate socks.

I have given Max at least one kiss (but really more like 100 kisses) every day since he was born. I kiss every morning before I leave and as soon as I pick him up when I come home in the afternoon.

I love Max more than I have ever loved anyone before.

That's all for now.

Party like a rock star

Max is pooped.

My parents and my niece Hannah visited this weekend, and Max apparently wore himself out. He has been sound asleep since about 5:30 pm. Out like a light. Poor little booger was just partying like a rock star all weekend, and now he's got to catch up on his beauty sleep. He had lots and lots of cute smiles and squeals, and I guess that sucked all the energy from him. He also had lots of fun helping me lace my mom's coffee with sugar and lard and making her gain 3 pounds over the weekend. Such a momma's little helper.

Selflessness

My mother told me that once I had a baby, I would lose all sense of selfishness, that a baby is the one thing that can make any person completely selfless.

While I agree with her to a certain extent--I am always thinking about Max (even now while he sleeps in his crib, or when I am at school, or driving to work)--and I would do anything for him.

Even kill a cricket. Seriously. Anyone who knows me knows I would never intentionally hurt or kill a living creature, but a couple of days ago, there was a cricket jumping around in Max's room while I held him while trying to put him to sleep. I don't know why, but I just did not want a cricket in the room with my son, so I was getting ready to squish him when I realized I could just cover him up (the cricket, not Max) with a bowl and have Brandon dispose of him outside.

How did I get to the cricket again? Oh yeah--I would do anything for Max, which is an act of selflessness, right?. I want Max to be whatever he wants to be, to get whatever he wants to get, to experience all that there is to experience.

That is selfless.

But what is selfish, and arrogant, I suppose, is that I love seeing myself in Max. There is no better feeling in the world than to be holding him while he's sleeping and look down at him and just see myself.

Max ridet (Max smiles)

Max is smiling A LOT lately. If he's awake when I leave in the morning to go to skooooooooool, he will usually give me at least half a dozen smiles and squeals. And then when we come home from the sitter's, he smiles again once we start goofing around. He's funny because most of the time when he smiles, he also laughs and squeals at the same time.

I really like it when he smiles and laughs in the morning before I leave. I hate leaving him in the morning, especially without even seeing him awake, so it is nice if he wakes up for a bit before I head off to brainwash, er, shape, the minds of youths.

It has been very hard for me to go to school in the mornings the past two weeks, even with those cute little smiles and squeals. There have been a couple of times where I have driven to work crying because I miss him already. I still need my job in order to be fully happy, but it is just hard to negotiate being a mother and a teacher. I know this is the same dilemma that every working mom goes through and it is not peculiar to me, but it is new to me, and I am trying to deal with it.

But for now, hopefully Max will continue to give me all sorts of smiles to help me get through that long and painful car ride every morning.

Scroll down and look at the man hands (and the really pretty hair)

I was looking at the older pictures on the blog, and I noticed that on the ones when Max was first born, my hands were MAN HANDS. Look at the size of those suckers. I was swollen for about a week after giving birth, too. I must have been a very pretty sight to look at, especially since in addition to having man-hands, my hair had not been combed for 24 hours.

My parents are so gullible...they fall for all my funny jokes.

Dad took me to the doctor yesterday. He said something about how I was being pretty fussy and wanted to make sure I wasn't sick. See, I have been playing this funny joke on my parents for a while now. A couple weeks ago I decided that it would be fun to pretend like I was teething. So, I started doing things like spitting out my bottle and crying and grabbing my ears and cheeks. Somehow, Mom thought of teething, and so Dad decided to feel my gums. He thought he felt something like a tooth and when he looked in my mouth, he saw this white thing. Now, I didn't plan on that but I took advantage of it and milked it for all it was worth. My parents thought I was teething and my plan was coming together. Anyway, eventually that white thing disappeared and Dad noticed. He thought he was going crazy. Silly Dad. There was never a tooth there. Hee-hee.

Once they discovered that my "tooth" had disappeared, I had to do more to convince them that I was teething. So I started to be fussy again and shove the bottle away and scream when they tried to feed me. I also started shoving my hands in my mouth and chewing on them. They actually taste pretty good. Anyway, my silly parents kept wondering what my deal was, and so Dad took me to see the doctor to find out if I really was teething or if I had an ear infection or something.

This could ruin my plan. So when we got there, I decided to start crying, hoping Dad would just turn around and go home. Didn't work. He just picked me up, and since I like it when he does that, I stopped crying. We got into the room and some nurse person weighed me. 13 lbs 15 oz. she said. I don't know what that means, but I guess everyone was happy with it. Then she put me on this table where there was a mirror and lots of stickers for me to look at. I liked all those stickers. They were pretty cool. I was quite mesmerized, actually. Then I remembered that these medical people could ruin my funny joke. So, I decided I would try to signal to this nurse lady that I was trying to trick Dad into thinking I was teething, so I shoved my hands in my mouth and started to chomp on them. I don't think she got my hint because she said something about a "rectal temperature" and took out this weird looking stick. I'm not sure what was happening, but I decided to play cool and just stare at the mirror and chew on my hands. I figured I needed to remind everyone I was supposed to be there about my teeth, not my butt. Silly nurse. When that was done, the nurse lady left and the doctor came in. She was just as silly. She kept putting this thing on my chest and feeling my stomach. Then she stuck this thing in my ears. She told Dad that I wasn't sick. I just kept chewing on my hands, hoping she would take the hint. Finally, she decided to look in my mouth and feel around. She obviously didn't get the hint, either, because she told Dad that she didn't think I was really teething. Then she told him exactly what a tooth coming in looks like. Now, why'd she have to do that? Now my parents know that there's really nothing wrong with me and I have been playing this funny joke on them the whole time. They're so gullible.

I have lots of funny jokes in store for them.........