A daily...meh, weekly dose of babies, reality, and love.
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Sunday, September 30, 2012

Sunday morning kind of sucks (but you're gonna be ok.)

You would think that I would rejoice and slumber peacefully the first time that my daughter slept 8 hours in a row. Yes, you would think. But after almost six weeks of waking up every 4 hours at night to feed her hungry little milk hole, I was in an absolute panic around three in the morning when I snapped awake and realized she hadn't eaten in 5 hours.
I peered through the dark to the beloved bunny seat-come-bed and willed myself to check her pulse. 

Clara, warm with sleep, grunted in her baby dreamland as I held two fingers to her chubby neck rolls. Heartbeat established, I laid back in bed and worried myself to sleep. 

"Just wake her up then, babe." His eyes weren't even open. 
"Yeah, but we don't do that." 
The Horney house has a strict neverevereverwakeasleepingbabyfortheloveofallthatisgoodandholy rule. We feed on demand and let the kid do her thing, but now my crazy mom noggin was whispering scary 'she'll never eat again' messages into my head and I was in turn relaying these certainties to my husband via weepy early morning whispers.

"Ok. I'm doing it." 
I rolled over, pulled her out of the bunny's soft ergonomic arms, and fed her. 

She ate for about 90 disinterested seconds and passed back out. As did Sam. (Passed out, not ate. You weirdos). I tucked our baby into bed with us and stared at the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, simultaneously watching a short film in my mind entitled, "You're a bad mom and your baby isn't ok." 

So as I found myself getting ready for church a short (SHORT) time later, and this was the scene behind me, 

I went ahead and took a few tired minutes to be jealous of Sam. 
1) For being a normal person and 2) For getting unadulterated-by-irrational-fear snuggle time. 

Ok, so?
Worry. Wastes. Time.         (Matthew 6:27, right. I knew that.)

Snuggle time in particular. 


Thursday, September 27, 2012

Priorities, or "have bunny chair will travel"

Sam travels a lot for his job. This has been a fact of our entire relationship, and we work with it. He has times away and times at home, but for the most part he is gone about half the year altogether. We've built our life around that routine, riding the highs and lows of exits and entrances for the last six years.

But now we have a baby. (this one, in the cowgirl boots.) And things feel different.

It's no longer easy to live separate lives every other week when he's gone. Because his life exists at home with us. And our life exists wherever he is. It's pretty killer, actually. So when he called and asked us to come stay with him for a few nights, it was hard to say no.

But I definitely wanted to say no.
It's not like the guy works in Tahiti, you know what I'm saying? He works for Idaho Power, in the worst parts of Idaho.
Like eastern Idaho.
And this week's particular destination? Burley, Idaho. I mean, there's really no reason to go to Burley, Idaho.

(Unless, for instance, you're in high school, on a roadtrip with your friend Cassidy to see some friends from summer camp, friends who happen to be an attractive pair of brothers who live in Burley, brothers who you and Cassidy plan on divvying up and getting to know on a more ahem personable basis in their backyard all weekend...maybe getting your first kiss...otherwise there is truly NO reason to go to Burley.)

It's a 2 1/2 hour drive through the desert into nowhere. And have I mentioned that my kid hates her carseat? She screams so hard her round face turns pink and I swear I've seen CPS workers tailing me during errands while she wails in the backseat.
It's a nightmare.
I had a million reasons to tell Sam no. The car trip alone with the baby. Our house that needs cleaned. Groceries that need bought. Nieces who need a babysitter on Friday night. But there's been a shift somewhere in the universe, and all of those other reasons for "no" are now trumped by one tiny reason for "yes." (See tiny boots above).
It's silly to drive to Burley for one night with Sam. And I wanted to say no. But suddenly, lately, we became a family. It's not just us anymore, making things 'work.' It's us and her, making things wonderful.

Which means I packed up the car. I loaded the bunny bouncy seat. I drove for 2 hours, stopped to nurse in a Subway parking lot, drove for 30 more minutes, and got to see the look on my husband's face as we all walked towards each other on the hotel lawn.
It might be silly, but it's worth it. Because in the end, all we're really guaranteed is today, right? The "no" starts to shrink when you see the "yes" for what it's worth.

 So put on your cowgirl boots. Get on the freeway. And drive to Burley.

Hey God- thank you for my little family. Help me to be intentional about our time and energy. 
I love you- Amen.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

since you can't spank a newborn

I remember when a late night used to consist of friends, and laughter, and probably a few (ha!) drinks. Today, I woke up exhausted, with this tiny face right next to mine in bed.

Oh, except it looked more like this- 

And the only drinks involved in our up-all-night-extravaganza came straight from me (or the 'teat', as Sam so eloquently refers to me when asking Clara if she's hungry). So when we woke up in a tired stupor this morning, cranky and over it, I decided it was a bath morning. 
Well, a bath for baby, coffee for mommy. And guess what? It worked. 

Yes, yes, this is what Sam Horney gets to wake up to every morning. Disgusting bangs and all.
 Lucky man, you say? Couldn't agree more. 

Hope your day looks more like a bath morning, and less like a dark and tired night. 
Happy Wednesday :) 

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

this trick

Sometimes when you are with someone who is very needy and emotionally unstable (perhaps they cry a lot, or want to be held all the time) it's best to just throw them in a sling and vacuum your house.*
Because apparently the sound of the vacuum is more comforting than your best lullaby, and then at least your floors look better.

*not recommended with actual people. just babies. 

Monday, September 24, 2012

5 things

5 things I learned this month:

1. Sam is a great dad.
And it's sexy. Real sexy. We were recently discussing the 'dad bond' with some friends. Each dad shared how long it had taken to feel bonded to their kids. Some said a few weeks. Some up to six months. Then we asked Sam if he felt  bonded to Clara yet, or how soon he thought it would be until he did. He didn't even look away from the football game on the tv as he said,
We all laughed, but he looked at us and said, "No, seriously. The moment she was born. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I was crazy about her."

Excuse me while I DIE OF LOVE. (and are those six weeks up yet, Dr. Rice?) 

2. It's ok to ask for help. 
Really. Truly. Go for it, Jessie. ASK. Because being a new mom is hard. Exhausting, emotional, strange, and sometimes baby crying in the daunting dark of night for unknown reasons hard. But I'm not the first person to do this mom thing, and there are a lot of people who love me and my husband and our baby so much that it's actually a little weird. So, instead of being stubborn...instead of being proud...instead of being so damn independent...ask for help. You'll probably get some delicious dinners and maybe even a hug, just exactly when you need it.

3. Be where you are. 
This used to be my mantra when I directed an after school program. During staff training, my most serious charge to my team was to Be Where You Are. Don't text when someone is talking to you. Don't ignore a kid who needs your attention. Don't talk to the other staff instead of the kids- just be where you are. And now I have to work on that every single day. I want to soak up every wonderful, heartbreakingly fast moment of my daughter's life. And sometimes those wonderful moments are actually pretty awful- but they're my moments. I'm her only mom and I want to BE HERE, as much as I can for as long as I can. 

4. Being pregnant was worth it.
I hated being pregnant. Hated. I often refused to leave my house; uncomfortable with how I looked and anxious in social situations, I didn't recognize myself anymore. But Clara...oh, Clara. How very worth it  every single uncomfortable moment has become in the light of her silly little face. And as irritated as I'm sure everyone around me is to hear it- because Lord knows they all suffered too-  I can't wait to be pregnant again. Because it means I'll get another baby. Yum.

5. It is absolutely impossible to love someone this much. 
Imagine a person who whines enough to wake you up several times a night. Who yells at you without saying what's wrong. Who pukes on your clothes every day. Who makes big messes and doesn't clean anything. Who steals your husband's heart.
Now imagine actually adoring that person, for no other reason than they. are. yours. That's being a parent. And that's really all I know about it so far.

Happy One Month Birthday, Clara Noelle. 
You light up our lives.