September GBOMB

Good

AJ's speech. He knows so many words, and can point out so many things--body parts, animals, objects in his books, etc. He is currently obsessed with pumpkins, and it's so cute. My other favorite thing lately is when he hands me a book to read him, then turns around, and backs his bottom up onto my lap. 

The kids stool. We move that thing to the sliding door, to the hallway light switches, to the kitchen table, and to the counter. AJ loves to be on it. And it didn't take him a month before he figured out how to get down by himself. I helped him over and over again, and now he does it effortlessly. Such a good purchase. 

Cornbelly's. It has opened. AJ's obsession with pumpkins makes this an easy activity. 

Bath robe tie hair. I am faster and better at it, and my day three hair looks a lot better because of it. I don't sleep super well with my hair like that, and exercising with it isn't my favorite, but it works well on walking days. 

Teaching. I got to facilitate at Leadership University last week at work. I really enjoyed it on a deep level; it felt like I was stepping into my calling. I've gotten such kind feedback about the event and about my portion specifically. Teaching is who I am. It is hard to explain. Teaching junior high wasn't the right fit. But teaching was never wrong. 

Bad

The downstairs neighbors. If they haven't made it into this post series yet, I'm not sure how I haven't thought of it. A company that serves special needs adults purchased the condo, and the residents aren't the issue. Their "manager" is. I had called a couple of times but just barely got through to a real person last week. And I've also reached out to our HOA management company, not that that's done anything at all. I am so tired of living here. 

Monotony. The meals, the cleanup, the tidying... I am a person who likes routines and habits. But I also understand the importance of novelty. And it is lacking in my life. I feel like once we add another kid to the mix, the demands of ordinary life will be both boring and draining. Please don't take this out of context. I love my life. I love being a mom. I can find the blessings. But sometimes it is draining. I'm trying to accept that this is how things will be for the next several years, and find ways to build in enjoyment and gratitude. 

Work. I'm back to double duty (partially). The executive assistant who came in April has now left the company, which puts some of the duties back onto me, since I'm still there and am the only one who knows the role. I'm trying not to let it take over everything else I need to do, but everything feels like an immediate need. I am just taking it a day at a time and doing my best. 

On My Brain

Knowing the cause. As parents, we want to know, right? When our newborn is screaming--is he hungry? Does he have gas? Is he tired? Is he cold? We want to know the cause of the discomfort. We want an explanation. If they have an allergic reaction, we want to know what caused it (fun fact: my baby brother is allergic to ibuprofen, so when my mom kept giving him children's Motrin, and his hives got worse, she had to figure out what it was). When newborn AJ would scream later in the day, I could usually attribute it to trying a new kind of formula; I timed it strategically so I could tell which ones wouldn't work for him. I've seen parents demonstrate behavior changes after their kids consumed red food dye. If me giving AJ the vitamin K shot at birth had negative effects (I didn't know about the black box warning until afterward), I would want to know. If me sleep training AJ had detrimental effects on his brain, I would want to know. I wouldn't judge myself because I made the best choice I could with the information I had. The point is, we as parents want to know if our decisions hurt or negatively affect our kids, don't we? I get that that can be hard because it means we have to acknowledge that we made a mistake; we definitely wouldn't intentionally want to hurt our kids. But we would want to know so we can do better next time--next occurrence, next baby, etc. Lately, I'm appreciating the people who very openly share the lessons they've learned in parenting--the things they wish they had done differently. I hope to be that kind of person. Know better, do better. 

Call the Midwife. I love this show. I love that it's about human connection, pregnancy, birth, and beautiful stories. I do find myself getting frustrated at times--by how many women are on their backs, by the quick progression/emergency depicted, by the immediate cord cutting, etc. I know it's just a show, and it's set in the 60s, but it's the closest we have to normalizing physiological birth in the media. So I want it to do some things better. 

Birth. Always birth. The more I learn, the more I understand that every single little thing in nature's design has a purpose. Every little thing we leave alone. The spontaneity of labor being due to baby's lungs being finished developing. The rate of contractions--enough to make baby's body aware to enter the world, but not fast enough to create stress. The oxytocin and endorphin receptors and levels increasing up until the body is ready for birth--to make birth more comfortable and joyful. All of it is so beautifully designed. I don't know where my faith is at these days, but it's hard not to feel like God is in these details. I hope I can help more and more people to trust this design--trust their bodies, and trust birth. 

Wonder. I am adding this piece on October 1, and it happened today, but I still want to put it down. I took AJ to Walmart today.  I had to pick up a prescription and pick up a few things. It's no secret that Walmart is not my favorite place. But as we waited in line for my prescription, AJ was looking up at the ceiling (he loves lights), and was just smiling at all he was seeing. I wish I could say it shifted my attitude and that I appreciated that trip to Walmart, but it didn't. Still, the way this child makes me stop to look, to see things that are just a normal (even banal) part of life, is something I am so grateful for. I love him and his happy heart and his wonder.