Expanding my repertoire

So, I intended this blog to be an homage to my lovely son, now just a few months shy of 2 years old. I enjoy writing about him and his experiences, partially because he's hilarious and I need to document that, but also because it helps me cope with the insanity that is my life. Plus, I am hoping that my wise and thoughtful remarks will be saved for posterity, so when he gets married I can dig up all this crap I've written about him and embarrass him at his rehearsal dinner.

But, recently I've been feeling like I need to expand my repertoire a bit and perhaps write some musings about my life in general. Of course, I am sure that Cole will often be the focal point of this blog, but it's hard to write a blog about one specific person. So, I am widening the scope. And, to begin, a vignette about my husband...

He is a wonderful guy, with many, many talents. Cooking, or anything to do with the kitchen, is not one of them, however. So, when I asked him to heat up some vegetable soup for our growing toddler, I figured how hard could that be? The soup is in a Pyrex bowl, ready to be microwaved and then eaten. Easy. However, he found the avocado-yogurt dip I made, also in one of the aforementioned Pyrex bowls, heated it up and offered it to Cole. Not surprisingly, Cole wasn't interested. The dip, if used as it was originally intended as a creamy, tangy accompaniment to raw veggies, is delicious. Heated in a microwave and spoon-fed to our child, under the guise of it being soup, well... kind of disgusting. So, when I came home and realized that he was attempting to feed Cole dip ("I thought it was pea soup") instead of soup, I was reminded just how specific I need to be when giving instructions that involve the kitchen, preparation of food, and/or eating food. Saying something like, "Please give Cole some of my homemade vegetable soup for dinner. It's in a Pyrex class bowl in the fridge" simply isn't enough. Rather, I should have said, "Please give Cole some of my homemade vegetable soup for dinner. It's the brothy-like substance that is located behind the head of broccoli on the middle shelf of our refrigerator. It has carrots and spinach and potatoes in it. You might have to move the head of broccoli in order to actually see said soup. And, oh, make sure you don't confuse it with the thick, sage green substance in the Pyrex bowl. That's avocado-yogurt dip, not soup." Well, now I know.

Shell Shocked: Memories from My First Few Months of Motherhood

Recently, some friends and I were reminiscing about the early days of motherhood. We were chuckling about how tired we were, about how big and swollen are boobs were, and how we felt overwhelmed, or as one of my friends aptly said "shell shocked." I hadn't really stopped to think about it before, but that term pretty much described how I felt. I loved the early days and of course I love my son, but looking back it all seems like such a blur. My only rationale: I was indeed shell shocked.

In my typical over-zealous, let's-try-to-do-everything-for-everyone attitude, I approached motherhood full on. I even left the hospital early because I just wanted to get on with it. When we arrived home, I remember feeling confident and prepared. My parents were visiting, and amongst other things, mom was cooking and shopping for us and dad was helping with the dog. They stayed for a month and it was amazing having the help. It wasn't until they left that I began to feel overwhelmed. Take breast feeding, for example. I vividly recall being totally perplexed as to how I was going to prepare and cook dinner, while trying to care for a child. In theory, it doesn't seem that hard to do, but reality is much different. I cannot tell you how many times I had to leave pots bubbling on the stove to breast feed a hungry infant. Or, how many times I would sit down to eat a meal with Cole snuggled up on my lap feeding, blissfully unaware that I was trying to breast feed while also trying to nourish myself. But, perhaps the most ridiculous breast feeding attempt was at a mom and baby yoga class where I was dutifully doing my Warrior 2 pose while Cole was actually latched on feeding. What the hell was I thinking?

I remember desperately wanting to feel connected to the outside world. So, I was constantly online. In hindsight, I think it was my way of staying afloat and not feeling drowned in the sea of motherhood. Thank god I hadn't yet joined Facebook, or I think I would have been updating my status every 5 minutes. Laura Brereton is breast feeding Cole now. Laura Brereton just changed a poopy diaper. Laura Brereton is SOOOO tired.

I also made lots of phone calls and invited everyone and their grandmother over to visit. I was so concerned that my before baby life was just going to evaporate, so I over compensated. I became exhausted, but I was still trying to ride the adrenaline wave of "HOLY SHIT, I HAVE A KID!"

It wasn't until recently that I realized how nuts my life was. Running around, working, cleaning, cooking, caring for Cole (no- this sentence is not meant to be an example of alliteration), walking the dog, showering (next to impossible), interacting with my husband (carefully chosen words), and desperately trying to express my creativity. How could any one, sane person do all this?

The answer is that they can't. But, that didn't stop me from trying. Hence, the shell shocked feeling. I can only hope that when it comes time for baby #2, I will have learned something. I don't have to make a fancy 3 course dinner. I don't have to have a clean house. I don't have to do yoga with a baby on my boob. Following the wise advice of the nurse in Cole's pediatrician's office, all I have to do is love my baby. That's all.