Having it All

Having it "all"...what is that exactly? Can anyone attain this? Should we even try? Can't we be happy with loving what we have? I feel like our generation is addicted. Constantly moving, looking for fulfillment, searching for meaning, completeness and answers. Trying to propel ourselves forward with our careers, plan the perfect dinner party, maintain a fresh and engaged marriage, parent our children independently, reinvent the meaning of "self" all while maintaining physical and emotional health...ha. I am not sure if we are a generation that knows how to be still. Be silent. Our lives are so full of distractions, void of original thought. These distractions lead to emotional disconnectedness and exhaustion. I'm done...at least until this commercial break is over.
Seriously...
Ella, I wish for you the following:
1. Try not to over-think things. I'm afraid this is a trait that runs in the family.
2. Don't overexpose yourself to excessive info. Life then becomes someone else's soundbite, expectation or idea. Think for yourself and just be.
3. Happiness will come to you because you welcome happiness. Your Dad and I know this about you already.
4. Embrace silence because this is when you can truly hear.
5. Have it "all" by loving what you have.
6. Remember that once you have it all figured out...life changes AND Cheerios = Joy.

Like grandmother like mother...like daughter?

Dear Mimi,
The other day I was you. I've been noticing this more and more with each passing day...and I say this with pride. No, I haven't totally given in to the "free-range" movement or banished synthetic fabrics from my wardrobe. I did however find myself sneaking a cupcake in the kitchen as my daughter was screaming with awareness from the living room. Darn that emerging short-term memory. Ella apparently remembers the taste of her first sweet birthday treat just a few days prior. I recalled an incident in the late 80s when I found you in the garage hording a small box of Fannie Mae Pixies. I remember the empty wrappers crinkling beneath your finger tips and your look of surprise after being caught. I laughed to myself as I finished the cupcake in one bite and quickly returned to the living room to aid in Ella's recovery.
Thanks for teaching me the ropes Mom.
Love you...

Moo....boo.

So I have a few gripes.
1. Damn allergies. This morning Ella had her first introduction to cow's milk. Today was supposed to be "liberation day" for our formula weary pocket books. We happily purchased milk at the local store. Organic? Yep. Hormone Free? Yep. We don't want her onset of puberty to begin while still in diapers. Seriously, I just read an article about six year olds developing pubic hair (doctors are attributing this to hormone exposure in milk). I digress. Milk properly mixed with her current formula as to not shock her system? You bet. Soon after her first swig, hives appeared all over her chin and neck. Poised and ready for anaphylactic shock Jerry and I stood vigil. Now that her symptoms are starting to subside the research begins. Almond milk, soy milk, oat milk, goat milk. Protein content, sugar content, pros and cons...so much to consider. Must call Laura.
2. Toy packaging. Why are hedge clippers and a circular saw needed to get to a child's toy? Seriously.
3. Payback is a "B"...please note the capital lettering used. In the ignorance of youth, Jerry and I may have selected some unsavory toys for our cousin's kids. What was there not to love about a silly string shooting Spider Man web? Did they not appreciate the garbage bag full of Happy Meal toys? We return home yesterday with a Rockin' Guitar Elmo. He sings a tune that burrows a hole in your ears and brain leaving a permanent scar. I don't know if I will ever recover. Thank you Garcia family.

Happy Birthday Ella

Happy Birthday dear girl! You are upstairs fast asleep as your father and I are in the living room surrounded by boxes, gift wrap, and cards full of well wishes. Highlights of the evening included a ride on your new Radio Flyer scooter and getting acquainted with your first baby doll from Mimi. You may not know this, but so much love, time and support was given from family and friends to help us through this first year. Being a new parent is quite scary! We made it though girl. You've changed us forever. Now that the house is quiet, your Dad and I had a chance to look back on a year ago today. Your birth actually began the day before, on the 23rd at 11 p.m. Nineteen hours later we met face to face at 6:47 p.m.. A sudden urge to shovel snow the night of the 23rd may have expedited the birth process. It was a light snow, more accurately a dusting. The fresh air felt good though. Following my outdoor duties, a brief nap on the couch and some milk and cookies, labor began. After I suggested we get our bags and call the doctor, I started shaking involuntarily and your dad began caulking the bathroom. I guess we were both scared. Luckily we gathered our wits, the streets were clear and quiet and we were at the hospital thirty minutes later. Calls were made to Mimi, Lolo and Lola. All three were instructed to get a good nights sleep as it would likely be hours before you arrived. Sleep was apparently out of the question as all three were at the hospital before dawn. Breakfast, lunch and dinner went by on the 24th. No Ella yet. The doctors had warned that your positioning made labor difficult but not impossible. After experiencing it personally I would certainly agree. Having a healthy baby girl with Apgar scores 9 and 9 made it all worth while. 365 days later and I have learned so much.

"Before you were conceived I wanted you. Before you were born I loved you. Before you were here an hour I would die for you. This is the miracle of life." Maureen Hawkins

The Unsung Heroes

Happy Birthday Mama Doo Doo!

Pretty Damn Cool

It's 9 a.m. and CHANGE is coming to the White House. History is happening today and the whole nation, the whole world is holding it's breath. Obama comes to the office with 78% approval rating and significant global support. After the Obama snow globes, buttons and pennants have made their way into the attics of thousands, let's hope we take this momentum and make something happen. Let's hope that our elected friends on Capital Hill know that the status quo is no longer acceptable. Apathy be gone.

Slumber

The other night after waking up with Ella at 5 a.m. I tried to settle back into sleep. Comforter pulled up over my head and still the snores were barely muffled. I searched for the perpetrator's feet under the covers to try and give him a gentle nudge in hopes that he would stop. Jerry's snores persisted. In his defense, the snores are not of the buzz-saw variety. I began to think of the snores, the man that creates them and his presence in our bed. I am so grateful that he is here with me. Just a few nights prior, Jerry's aunt died. I thought of her husband, Jerry's uncle, that had shared over fifty years in the same bed with this woman. I thought of the dreams, tears, discussions and laughter that was shared between the two of them in the quiet of the night. I thought about how lonely it must be to reach across the covers only to find more bed. How the sounds of her breathing at night must be missed.
Although most evenings we fall into bed exhausted, heads happily meeting the pillow...it is the quiet hours that we share asleep or in brief discussion that I treasure most right now. We move through our days in manic synchrony, completing our daily routines without thought. At night, the distractions melt away and all that is left is two individuals, two lives, one family, one love and some minor nasal obstructions...I couldn't ask for more.

The Proof is in the Vomit

Dear Ella,
I woke up in the middle of the night to find you covered in avocado vomit. I love you to the ends of this earth but avocado vomit is not pleasant, not even yours. It's 9:26 a.m. and it's been a full day thus far. I've scraped a variety of vomitous material off of three separate outfits, changed a diaper (I will spare you the gory details), made a quick run to the grocery store to obtain a "flu survival kit", scrubbed clean a car seat full of the vomitous material mentioned above and made three frantic phone calls from leading authorities on ouchies and upset stomachs. All the while, you maintain your sunny disposition which has gotten me through these morning hours.

This introduction could evolve into several different themes. I could spend a moment to appreciate your general good health thus far or highlight your seeming determination to get through rough patches with a smile. But, no, I'd rather take advantage of this moment to make a very important case. Perhaps this bedraggled mother with vomit smeared into her sweater can take this moment to inject some guilt into the future teenage Ella. I hope the opening paragraph provides evidence of my deep, unconditional love. I always want to be here to wipe away any hurt (be it stomach contents, a broken heart or a chipped self esteem). I hope that one day when we are fighting in the kitchen about curfew you can look back on this email and know how much I love you. My only motivation is your health and happiness. You are my sunshine.
xoxo,
Mom

Bad Weather Instincts and a B-Day Prediction

I feel cruel and I don't care. This people loving, tree hugging social worker does not mind admitting to a dark side. As the weatherman drones on about black ice, sheets of rain, no visibility, tornado warnings and wind chills of 40 degrees below zero my first instinct is to order out...because I can. The idea of someone delivering piping hot food to me in these conditions sends an evil shiver of pleasure down my spine. Is this wrong? Does anyone share this passion? Can I be forgiven?

On a completely separate note...Jerry and I are taking bets on our daughter. Jerry thinks she will respond with a look of confused desperation as she is sung "Happy Birthday"...my vote is an open mouthed scream, fists pounding on the table. Who will win? We'll keep you posted.

The End of a Work Week

My foot turns to lead as it leans on the accelerator...particularly at the end of a work week. My heart lightens and the anticipation of two whole days with my family propels me to race down North Avenue to get my daughter. Ah...glorious weekend. Friday night is the prelude of things to come. Icing on the cake. Saturday morning, the weekend is young and open to possibilities. Saturday afternoon and evening is the pinnacle of weekend fun. Sunday mornings start the slow descent, but the brakes can still be applied. Sunday afternoon and the ominous clouds of the work week start rolling in. Sunday night requires surrender. Denial gets you nowhere. I wish I could live in a constant state of Friday night. Too bad Friday only happens once a week. Lucky for me it's tonight.

180

I have a new found respect for Rainforest Cafe. This whole motherhood trip has made me eat my words on more occasions than I would like to admit. The pre-baby Sarah thought Rainforest Cafe was for "mom-jeans" wearing, fanny pack sporting, mini-van driving dolts. The much more informed post-baby momma is now singing it's praises. Eating in a virtual fish bowl provides perfect entertainment for the little chicken nugget connoisseurs. Meanwhile, mommy gets to catch up with a good bud over lunch. The waitress worked her tail off as Ella tossed her pre-packed peas and carrots to the floor and opted for the fried goodness that glistened at her finger tips. Thank you Rainforest Cafe.

The way I'm going I may find myself driving off the lot with a new Dodge Caravan in the very near future. Nah.

History Lesson

Ella, my love, what will you inherit? Watching the news I worry for the future. Long gone are the clips that celebrate the birth of twenty kittens and the success of a local lemonade stand. Lately there is so much news journalists are struggling to keep up. Between the economy, the decaying environment and mounting tensions abroad, the news is full of somber faces with even more somber predictions. Did our parents worry this much when we were born? What the hell was even happening in 1976? If I'm not mistaken, the US and Iran brokered a $10 billion arms deal and an Apple computer was made in a California garage. Like that has any significance today...Ha! Maybe today's headlines will be reduced to an after-thought. A mother can wish, can't she?

A Concordia Cubby

Our young grasshopper is now the proud owner of a pint-sized cubby at Concordia University's Early Childhood Education Center. Fresh from a bath, perfectly coiffed and adorned in Baby Gap, Ella made a grand entrance. She brought with her the requisite boxes of Kleenex along with her insatiable thirst for knowledge...or was that just gas? Either way...it was a good start. Jerry and I look forward to her report cards at the end of each day. Today's teacher's report stated that she had a "great day". Read: Ella possesses undeniable smarts and sass. My only hope is that I ditch the nerves that entered into the classroom with me this morning. I was trying so hard to make a good impression with the teacher...they wield such power!

EMB's 1st Birthday

As Ella's first birthday quickly approaches I find myself trolling the Target toy aisle with a bit more scrutiny. What can I get my daughter that won't induce seizures? Why all the blinking lights and music overload? Is it me or is the toy industry in cahoots with the pharmaceutical giants? Is it any wonder kids cannot pay attention in the classroom? If only teacher's heads could spin and flash like the disco ball at Berlin. Poor Ella, stuck with a fuddy-dud of a mother. Dear girl, I hope I lighten up once your reach your teen years.

Raindrops on Roses and Tortas with Chorizo

Favorite Things:
1. Jimenez Grocery Store and Carniceria on North Avenue - Tortas con aguacate e chorizo, oh my!
2. Louie's Grill, Forest Park...never fails...ever. Local greasy spoon, sassy wait staff and pancakes I yearn for even in the patisseries of Paris.
3. Whole Foods "Cafeteria"
4. $22 mani/pedi at Nail Spa 2 in Oak Park
5. Batter Blaster - Pancake batter in an aerosol can? You can't dream this stuff up!
6. Airplane tickets to San Juan, Puerto Rico - purchased.
7. 7:30 p.m., a quiet house with my husband
8. Watching the sun set even a few moments later than it did the day prior
9. The energy derived from the prospect of a new year
10. Chariot Cougar running stroller, smooth as ice and able to handle crater sized potholes with ease.
11. Road trips to New Buffalo, Michigan

Happiness in the Expected?

Can there be happiness in the expected? The well-worn path? I used to think not. I am learning that happiness does not only exist in the novel, heart-thumping adventures of a gypsy. Happiness lives in suburbia with a sidewalk to shovel and garbage cans in the alley. Where culture is what you get at the doctor when your little one has a sore throat. Adventures abroad are in our future...but for now I embrace the adventures on Home Avenue.

Resolved

I'm not a New Year's Resolution type of gal. At least not until this year. My hope is to use this space to record life as it happens; to capture the little nuances of our days that are not seen in our photo albums. So much happens when the camera is away and life is playing itself out. So much that I don't want to forget. I often wish I had a remote control so that I can go back and remember those early days when Ella was first introduced to the world. The quiet mornings when the streets were still and the light in Ella's room was the only sign of life. I remember hearing the birds as they would welcome in the dawn with their chirping. I remember the sleep deprivation and wondering if ever life would be back to "normal". I remember forgetting what "normal" even was. What was life like before this little girl entered into our world? I remember her rough skin as if it had been brushed with sandpaper. I remember the potions and lotions we tried to provide her some relief. I remember tediously recording every single bowel movement on an excel spreadsheet...what precious data. Never in my life did I think I would be examining the content of diapers so scrupulously. I remember the exercise ball and the hours of bouncing that would lull our little one to sleep. I remember guessing and second guessing and researching and Internet searches ad nauseam. I would be surprised if our computer activity was not monitored by the local police given all of the searches for "poop" we had conducted. Isn't there some law against excessive "poop" searches? I remember the night of her baptism, Easter Vigil, or as your father referred to it, "Virgil". The ceremony held such symbolism for us. We have watched with pride over the course of 2008 as our little baby has revealed to us her personality. Ella is like a large print book, very easy to read. She approaches life with gusto. Her wide, easy smile is a highlight to our day. She waits for food like a little bird, mouth open with expectancy. She screams, she grunts, she growls. She scoots across the floor with wild determination. She is light, a grounding force for her parents. Her being has helped us examine who we are and who we want to be. What should she learn about being a woman, a spouse, a parent a human being? With all the complications of parenthood she makes things quite simple. She has revealed the beauty of the every day and for that we are forever grateful. I remember lying on the grass watching her watching the leaves dance in the sunlight. I remember my life becoming so much more full but emptying out all at once. I remember her love for Cheerios. I remember her on tiptoes, head hoisted above her crib railing as she greeted us in the mornings. I'll remember the worries, the late nights, catching my breath as she reached the edge of the stairs. But most of all I will remember 2008 as the year our girl taught us about the unending love that defines parenthood.