Why Karen Rocks

One thing that is really smart is to surround yourself with people who are better than you are. You get to be improved just by hanging around them. For free. It's a brilliant plan, and I will say that I have made a lifestyle out of it. I think it's safe to say that almost all of my friends, and certainly most of my family are better than me.

One person in particular is Karen. Proof? She was at my entire wedding being helpful and sober and not insulting the photographer. I was at her wedding and can not say any of the above. Karen is the friend I phoned when I didn't really know how to wash a floor in grade 12. She lets me pretend that I am helping her when she recovers my dining room chairs and an ottoman. She married the kind of guy that everyone likes which was perfect since she is the kind of gal everyone likes. She hosts dinner parties and drinks wine and she even scrapbooks and I just plain like her.

In June, we got an email from Ross. An "oh shit" email. Within a few days of the first oh shit email came the holy fuck email that said that their youngest son Josh had cancer. Every few weeks, we get new emails with new updates on how Josh is doing. He's had 6 rounds of chemo and just last week had surgery to remove the tumor in his belly. This photo was taken a couple of days after surgery, when the Canucks visited Children's Hospital. That's Matt Cook and maybe Sami Salo behind him. Josh was hoping for bigger names maybe?


But being brave while her beloved son fights cancer isn't why Karen rocks. Although she and Ross are really brave.

Karen rocks because she takes such good care of me. Admit it, you saw this coming. You know that these things are always about me.

This last weekend, something went awry with my sweet daughter. She of the long, night sleeping was suddenly no longer of the long night sleeps. She was waking up at midnight and at 2 and at 4 or maybe at 6. She was waking up and staying awake. For hours. It was not brining out the best in me. Our low point hit on Friday night (I think - they all blur together). Scott was working. Talia woke for the third time sometime before 5. She ate. She did not fall back asleep. She cried instead. I left her in her crib and she cried harder. I leaned over her crib and patted her and tried to lull her back to sleep. I hissed ugly curse words and told her she was ruining my life. Still she cried. Finally, I yanked her from her crib and walked her back to my room, whispering in her ear, "Mummy is so angry she could spit. Mummy wants you to shut up. JUST SHUT UP." I threw her in my bed. Literally. Forty-five minutes later, Talia was still crying and I did the thing you absolutely can not do if you don't want to raise a criminal - I gave her the boob to shut her up. I wept and wept and she ate and ate and finally fell asleep for another hour. These are not the glowing mothering moments found in Chicken Soup for the Fugitive's Soul.

I don't remember who called whom. I just know mid-morning on Saturday, I was choking out my tale of woe to sweet Karen. I just know that Karen is a person I can tell the truth to. I know that she knows the lows of parenting but also knows the highs. I know she's probably got a story that will meet or beat my own and I know for sure that she'll see the good even in the bad.

Indeed, she spoke words of comfort. She assured me I probably hadn't harmed Talia. She didn't say so but she implied that Talia probably wouldn't turn to a life of crime because of my breastfeeding cave in. She told me how she and Ross handled their own babies. And she told me it was hard. So hard.

And then she called me the next day. Just to see how the next night had gone. Talia had only woken up once and had been lovely all day. Karen rejoiced with me and then hung up to make French Toast with Alex.

That's why she rocks. It is an amazing gift to have your own life be hard and still make room for the lives around you to be hard too. To still be able to give grace and hope to those around you when you might be tempted to keep what grace and hope you have to yourself. She is the woman who had only 10 pennies left but still gave some away because she believed herself to be blessed.

That's why Karen rocks.

It's All Gone Now

Today it rained and rained and rained, so all the snow is gone. But yesterday and the day before that it snowed and snowed and snowed. We hibernated inside the first day but the second day we ventured out of doors for Talia's first snow.

We were going to go up to Beans for coffee. It's about 4 blocks north. 3 blocks west. Let's call that a fifteen minute walk. However, one must multiply the 15 minutes by the windchill factor and the snow coming down when deciding how far a distance it truly is. By the end of our block, I had decided that it was too far. Scott however, was sure it was just right. I will not go over the details of the conversation but suffice it to say that I Birthed Her always trumps You're Raising a Pansy, and we only went as far as Starbucks. Who was right? I'll let you be the judge. This photo was taken 4 houses down.

I Don't Want To

I'm having a bad case of the quits this morning. Talia is being... unpredictable. At night. When I am trying to sleep. When Scott is trying to sleep. When families are meant to be sleeping.

Apparently being unpredictable is entirely predictable, especially at 4 months and 6 months and then again around 8 to 9 months... all their blessed lives apparently, with teeny, tiny blocks of relief to keep you from doing real harm to yourself and those around you. So it's nothing to worry about. Thank God, I'm not worried. Angry, resentful, tired, depressed, unmotivated, blaming, unpleasant - yes. Worried? Not so much.

My house is not a complete mess. There are some dishes waiting for the dishwasher and the floor could stand to be swept. The bathroom would be glad of a cleaning but it's not like anything is growing anywhere it shouldn't. I should probably puree some pears, and wipe off her Bumbo seat and tray. There's a DVD due by 9pm, and I need to deposit a cheque at the bank. Scott wants me to hit a one day sale for him before 1pm. Oh, and the chicken in the fridge needs to be cooked or frozen before it becomes a $15 contribution to the landfill.

I don't waa-ant to...

So here's the bitch of it all. I know I don't have to. None of it. I can say no thank you to all of it. The world won't end if I have to throw chicken away. But I don't want to not do it either. I want to want to. Sick huh?

But not really. Because this life is so good. Even with the unpredictable nights. I am just so fucking thankful that I get to taste life this sweet. We have her. Much desired, long-hoped for her. We have a home that is wonderfully warm and cozy. I get to stay home and enjoy it every day because I have a husband who loves me and who works hard to make sure I can be here with the daughter he loves.

She is sitting up. All by herself. She scooches backwards all over the living room and is just so frikkin' pleased with herself all the damned time. She smiles at everyone and she is just fucking lovely. We sat in the surgical waiting room with Karen yesterday, waiting while Josh had his surgery and we were surrounded by Mums and Grandmas all waiting to hear that their sweet ones were okay, and my healthy happy Talia just smiled and smiled and charmed and glad-hearted the whole lot of them. She sat there being proof that God listens to Karen's prayers, all the while all of us praying that Josh would be well. Lord, I must be tired - I am crying my eyes out.

Anyway, I guess I just have to have quiet moments like now to know that despite my dusty floors, it is truly well with my soul. Still.

And just so you know, God heard the part where the surgery had to go well - the surgeon said it went as well as he could have hoped and he thinks they got the whole tumor. It doesn't make any of this over, but it felt like a gift, at least to me, like God had heard Talia and I praying for our friends. Now we keep praying for the rest of the healing to happen, and for little Josh to be restored and made whole, the way his Mum needs him to be.

I think that's enough for now.

Competing with Myself

Last night we were at Mum & Dad's house for dinner, and Mum pulled out my baby book. Sure enough, I got my first teeth at 5 months and about 10 days, just like Talia. Rolling over at the same time. We'll see about the walking and the talking. I definitely had it on her for weight - at 6 months I weighed 17lbs. Talia weighs 14 and a half. Of course, I was started on solids at TWO AND A HALF MONTHS! I think this is now considered a form of child abuse and if experts today were to be believed, I should be allergic to everything and probably diabetic. And obese. Oddly, I survived this and seem to be quite average and un-allergic. We'll see how long that lasts...

But there under the record of me eating about a pound of turkey a day at 5 months is this line: "Alison slept 'through the night' at about 3 weeks, although she wakes at 3 or 4am to keep us in line." And then later, "Alison slept 12 hours straight April 18th." Okay, not an exact quote but something like that.

And I was like, "Damn. Talia didn't sleep through the night at 3 weeks. What have I done wrong?"

Honestly, I'm not sure if I was comparing my Mum-ing (read: feeding & sleeping training, the only part of parenting that matters in the end) with my Mum, or baby Talia with baby Me but either way, I felt like shit because this other baby was clearly so much more successful at being a baby than Talia is. Seriously, this is how my mind works. Now in fairness, at 3 weeks it seems I weighed about 11 pounds. Talia didn't weigh 11 pounds until about 4 or 5 months and surely those extra pounds become extra sleep in some magical baby math formula.

But that's hardly the point. What concerns me this morning is that the competition and comparison is so built into mothering, so sewn into the fabric of parenting, that I can't even read my own damned baby book without evaluating how we're doing against my own baby story. I hate that. Because it makes every encounter with every other family an evaluation and I think that constant evaluation erodes community and friendships. And for someone who loves community so much, it is sad to know that my automatic, unthinking reaction is always something so diminishing to my truest heart's desire.

I think that what is true, is that gratitude is the only antidote to that. Being mindful of being thankful is the only cure I know for this form of mental illness, but it is so much work and so hard to do. I want to enjoy my friendships and the children in our world without grading them on some scale of success who's source I don't even know. I want to enjoy Talia, enjoy her unique life and not wreck it by holding it up against the little lives around us.

That's all. Today.

Our Daughter's Life of Crime

We're not sure what she's done, but it must be serious.



You know, it's one thing for all grown-ups to look a bit crazed &/or dangerous in their passport photos, but when a nearly-6-month-old looks felonious it becomes clear that it is truly a ploy by Them to make us all feel slightly unsure about our own trustworthiness.

More Firsts

Hmm. Well, the sleeping through the night was short-lived. I will not tell the whole story, but suffice to say I am blaming others, but hold some hope still that it could happen again one of these days. Perhaps the teething is lingering though? The last several nights, sleep has been very disturbed and as a result, Scott and I are becoming increasingly disturbed. Not as in 'bothered' but as in 'should be committed'. This too shall pass, right?

Despite the poor sleep, our girl remains a content and easy-going gal during the day. The last few days, Scott & I have been able spend non-nap hours playing all manner of fun games. Highlights include pass with the big red ball, being gobbled up by Daddy, shoulder rides and I Wish I Could Crawl which usually ends with whining. Talia also thinks a yawning face is hilarious but is quite upset by Daddy's low honking sound when she grabs his nose. Happily, it only took Scott half-a-dozen attempts to confirm that it really truly does upset her before he quit doing it. Aaahh, parenting together.

Oh, and she rolled over back to tummy yesterday! Big milestone, although completely accidental, and probably not to be repeated for a while. Still, it was fun to see.

All these moments are so wonderful though. They just make my heart glad. They embody goodness in the truest sense. Things are good in the Johnson Home these days, teething and night-waking notwithstanding. Sometimes when I am negotiating sleep with her, I forget for a moment how sweet it is. And that's probably okay. Because I just love that I am noticing how sweet it is the rest of the time. Really, most of the day, I just love this. Love this stage of our lives together. What a wonderful surprise that is. What good blessing.

But enough of the gush, now for the mush. With all this night-waking I decided we were eating solid foods this morning. Ha! She is interested for sure. In the spoon. Brown rice, not so much. Although the photos don't show this so much, she is a very clear non-verbal communicator so there was no misunderstanding her opinion on the experiment. Perhaps we'll try again next week? In the meantime, I'm pouring formula down her throat after every feeding. She will sleep again. Unless it's the damned teeth. Then I'm screwed.

What Good News Looks Like

I'm in a mood, have been for a day or so now, milestones be damned. Who can explain these things? I would prefer not to be, would prefer to be happy or at least not ... this. But whatever. It's that kind of day.

One thing that encouraged me though, was seeing Jolie taking her compost out. I wasn't so much encouraged by her green-ness, or her industriousness. Just by knowing she was there, living her life with her family - that was good news.

Here is the view from my back stairs:


Hmm. I hope Jolie and Andy don't see this photo - they might be worried. But it doesn't really look this grim in real life. To me, it always looks inviting and warm and fun and familiar and a bunch of other good things. I probably look over there five or 6 times a day in winter and 3 or 4 times that often the rest of the year. Just to see if they're there. Just to remember that if I need tomatoes, or a joke, or someone to check my pregnancy test, they're right there.

So today, in the midst of my mood, it was good news to know that if it gets bad, if it gets to the point where I can't step one foot further, I just have to lean out the back door and wail and probably someone over there will notice. Isn't that good news? I think so.

I wish good news made a bigger difference though.

Big Week in Taliaville

Oh, the milestones - they just keep rolling by.

It all started Monday with little white nubs on the lower gum. Hard core gnawing on anything that she could get in her mouth (thank you Uncle Bri for the well-timed teething toy!). Tuesday, I could feel little a little razor blade sharpness and that night & Wednesday night, the girl was up every couple of hours, not wanting to eat, but just kind of sleep-crying. Two bottom teeth. We did it!

Wednesday morning, my girl started saying "Mum". Well, more like "mammammammama" but every once in a while she slips in a "Mummmm" too. It's quite lovely and funny and now we can say her first word was Mum. Although maybe word should be in quotation marks. First "word". Yeah, that's closer.

And finally, 2 nights of sleeping through without a middle of the night meal, starting Thursday night.

It was indeed a big week. She is growing up our girl, and it is so nice.

Grandma bought a new toy for Talia this weekend. This fancy-dancy exersaucer was the happiest place on earth on Sunday night. She gets to stand up and reach things and most importantly, get them to her mouth. Home is a sad, sad place to be all of a sudden.

Tonight, Grandma and Poppa came to practice putting Talia to bed. All fared well, and Talia is snoozing away happily. As was Poppa when I got home. At 8.

For the 2 hours, I took myself and a book out for sushi and a glass of white wine. It was probably lovely. Sadly, I was a bit distracted by being a mother who mostly wants her daughter to be fine with whichever circumstance she finds herself in, but also mostly wanting her to prefer that circumstance to be me. I phoned Scott at 7:30 so that I wouldn't phone mum. He humoured me, but pointed out that he has been leaving her with me for months now and is a bit used to the bitter-sweetness of that.

Which of course has me thinking. Thinking about how being a mother has opened a whole new world to me, and a much more different world than being a wife ever was. Thinking that the same is probably true for Scott being a father, but the world is not set up for him to think on that at all.

The book I'm reading (Between Interuptions) was given to me by Heidi and is a collection of women's writing about motherhood. This first section I'm in is about the difficulty of merging motherhood with previous identities and specifically work identities. Oddly, I found I couldn't relate much, perhaps because my "work" identity had been a bit of a joke for the last 3 years. But then a writer wrote about being her father, not being a mother to her children and about how lonely that was and oh my, I was sad. Sad because of what it means it must be like for so many fathers.

Ugh, this is boring. What I want to say about all this is that I am intensely grateful for the privilege of staying home with Talia. I am thankful to every Canadian tax payer that funds my employment insurance. I am thankful for the bureaucrats who wrote a billion reports to convince someone, somewhere that a full year with a parent at home was way better for children than just 6 months. I am thankful to Make-A-Wish for obeying the law and for being a mom-friendly workplace. But mostly I am thankful to Scott who has giving up days at home with his daughter to work extra days so that we can afford for me to make up words to half-remembered rhymes and blow raspberries in the middle of diaper changes and spend 12 minutes choosing an outfit. To check the mail in.

Motherhood is such a privilege, in every way, and I am so, so thankful.

She Needs Me! and other lies that are true

So when Katie saw this photo, she says the first thing she thought was "Gammi?" Is it the white "hair"? the fondness for baths? the fingers in the mouth? or maybe just a lovely, lovely face? I don't know but I sure liked looking for Gammi in my sweet daughter and finding a hint or two. Take that Johnson family! We got some Gourlay going on...

Yesterday, I spent the day at Karen's making antipasto. Or to be more accurate, I spent the day with Karen while she made antipasto. I did do some of the shopping and chopping and filled about 7 jars. I also tried to take a few jars out of the big pot of boiling canning water but managed to look dangerous enough to inspire Karen to take over. Meanwhile, Talia and I hung out and enjoyed the warmth and friendliness of Karen's house. It's nice to be in a spot where you're just fine the way you are. Very Grandma and Poppa-ish actually, now that I think of it. Goodness. What a grandparent retrospective this is turning into... I'll find a Pumpa connection before we're done, I swear.

Now, that preamble is getting us to my day's thinking. On the way home, sweet T. fell asleep in her little carseat. So nice. Until she woke up, somewhere around Boundary and 29th. Something about waking up in the carseat is very upsetting to Talia and she just cries and cries. I reach back and give her my hand (awkward in a stick-shift) and I tell her I'm right there, and still she cries and cries. Finally we get home, and as soon as she sees me coming around the car, she stops. Her sobbing slows and as I pull her out of her carseat and bring her to my shoulder, she tucks her head against my neck and does that ragged, snuffling, post-cry breathing.

It is SO nice.

This was really the first time where I thought, "I think it's me she needed." Probably she hasn't quite figured out that MY voice and MY fingers do not mean that *I* am there. So she wakes up in her seat and makes the sweet waking up noises she always does, but instead of Scott or me showing up to play, she gets nothin'! Nothing but the 2004 Jetta upholstery and a carseat toy. For those 20 minutes, she is sure that this is it - she's been abandoned and will have to raise herself and she has not seen a nipple in HOURS.

And then suddenly there is Mummy. ME! She sees ME and all is not lost after all.

So of course, I have to think on this, even while I am loving it. I see how it is addictive, this feeling. How we are made to be needed this way. It feels as though my entire body has been created to pull a warm, cuddly, sobbing body out of carseat and feel it relax against my shoulder. And I want to do it again. I want to be the answer, the solution.




As you can see in this photo, Talia is getting stronger all the time - she is holding herself up there, hanging off the bouncy chair (and breaking every safety guideline for it, I'm sure) all on her own strength. Probably, she will be able to sit on her own in the next months, and stand on her own not too long after that. And chances are, she will figure out that she is okay on her own in the carseat. She'll start being okay on her own with friends, and then at school and sooner or later at work and God forbid, in New Jersey.

And here she has me hooked on her being most okay with ME. I didn't think I would fall for it, but alas I have. Not long until I'm saying "She just hates daycare" while the teachers smirk knowing that she just does the crying for my sake. Maybe it's why grandparents love these little grandbabies so much - they get a hint of that again. It's been so many years since their own babies needed them for a cuddle and they've missed it. I do remember sitting on Pumpa's lap when I was small - while I was savouring the smell of rye and milk, I bet he was soaking up that "she needs ME" feeling. Nice to imagine, I tell you.


Lucky me.

About Talia

Poor girl. All I write about is me, me, me. She'll grow up with no notes about her, aside from how her "herness" impacted my "meness". Good grief. Some kids have education funds - T is going to have a counselling fund!

So a few notes about Talia Grace at 3 and a half months.

Talia's first smile was at 3 and a half weeks, a big wide gummy one and she has been smiling lots ever since. Her best smiles are for whoever gets her out of bed in the morning. She also has lots of smiles for Mummy and Daddy and Grandma. Well, to be honest, she'll smile for just about anybody. A bit indiscriminate with her cheer actually. It's sure nice.

She cries mostly when she doesn't get her way and on her way to sleep. She has several distinct cries including, "I'm Over Here", "Are You Kidding Me? I'm Still Waiting", "Why Can't I Have That One?", "I'm SOooo Tired", "You're Such an Idiot" and "Please Watch My Head". Happily, her noise-making has expanded beyond the crying variety, and she talks away, often. She likes to sing along when sung too, and favourite songs are currently "If I Had a Boat" (the Jimmy Buffett version) and "Amazing Grace" at bedtime.

She is very confident on her tummy and started rolling from her tummy to her back about 2 weeks ago. She plays long and often in her bouncy chair and will happily spend time in her Bumbo chair, although it seems to wear her out a bit more quickly. Not long though until she is complete master of her neck and then game on, as they say. Game on.

She sleeps from about 7:30 until 8 the next morning, waking once or twice in that time to eat. She is still having 3 and a half naps at 3 and a half months - I hope that changes soon, but for now she is mostly well-rested and that is probably part of why she's so darned happy. The good news is I trained her to fall asleep in her crib, on her own. The bad news is, she is reluctant to fall asleep anywhere else. Next week we'll try a couple of naps at Grandma's in her bassinet to remind her there are other sleep options in the world.

Talia has been a delight from day 1. Any difficulties we've had with her have had more to do with our own issues and expectations - she has put up with a lot of craziness already in her short life (Note to Remember for Next Time: you really can't spoil a newborn and eating is more important than a schedule at the beginning). We are so thankful for her and keep looking at each other, wondering how we managed to get the best one. Too wonderful, she is.

Brooke Strikes Again

Okay, well our daughter really is the cutest baby on the plantet. We've got documented proof now too. You'll remember Brooke of belly shots fame? She came by this afternoon and took a swack of pics of our sweet girl and yet again captured the heart of a moment. Or two. So wonderful, so beautiful...

Father Daughter Fondness

I mentioned below that I am Talia's favourite boobs, but it is becoming apparent as time goes on that her real favourite is her Dad. And certainly, she is his favourite. She always has big smiles for him and continues to love bath time which is a Dad Exclusive.

Watching a man become a father is an amazing experience, and certainly tied to my longing for parenthood. As much as I wanted to be a mom, I really wanted Scott to get to be a Daddy because I just knew it would bring out the best in him. And you may recall that he was already pretty good to begin with.

Sure enough, Talia accesses a part of Scott that is new and wonderful for both of us; wonderful for him I think because it must be so nice to discover your own tenderness and capacity for this protective love, and nice for me to be nearby and watch it grow and deepen and even get some of the overflow.

Scott's love for Talia surprises him sometimes, catches him off-guard. And her delight in him as she gets more aware and connecting only grows the affair between them.

I will confess that I am a bit jealous. Jealous of her love for him and his love for her. I wonder about feeling left out when we're all older, and about being second in her heart. I wonder about him one day choosing her ahead of me. Lots of wondering, but all mixed with joy and gladness that both my favourite daughter and my favourite man are being so well-loved. It's truly my best hope for both of them.

Three Months In

That's Talia asleep in her playpen aboard Cheap Therapy for her second voyage of the year. We spent 6 days out, with a couple of nights each in Centre Bay, Pender Harbour and the Pearl Islets off Hardy Island. It was lovely to be away and she is proving to be a very able sailor.



At three months old, Talia is still wee but moving along in every other way. She is very engaged and engaging, checking things and people out. She can be quite chatty and has a bit of a love-affair going on with her dad. I remain her favourite set of boobs, and every once in a while she is glad to see me. Until her dad shows up. There are worse problems I think.

Now that she seems to be gaining weight regularly, we can slowly move our focus to sleeping. She sleeps well-ish at night, although still wakes 2 or 3 times between 7 & 7 to eat. I guess that will keep up for a few more pounds and I generally don't mind, except for the times when I mind a LOT. Naps are another story and she remains a reluctant napper. If she does finally fall asleep, it is usually short-lived. However, she is happy when she's awake (unless she is awake in her crib - not so happy then!) so we'll just keep at it and hope she figures it out soon. I find it taxing and discouraging and it makes me want to quit. However, as I mentioned before, quitting isn't an option so I don't get to, and just wait another 3 hours for the drama we call naptime.

As is wont to happen, all this discouragement prompts deep thoughts. Okay, well, deep-ish thoughts. And so my current thinking is about what God is doing in building longings in us. Because we really wanted to be parents. Well, I should only type for me. *I* wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be pregnant, and I wanted to have a baby, but bigger than that, I wanted to be a real mom, more than the half-assed, pseudo-parent I was with Shiaheem.

As the wait for pregnancy went on and on, the longing grew deeper and deeper which is of course no surprise. Now, I'm a realistic person so there was a realization that the fulfillment of this longing wasn't going to be my happiness. But there was a belief I guess that life would somehow be better than it had been.

This is not better.

It is good. Often great. But it is hard. And full of new failures and disappointments. It's not better, although, not worse. Just ... different. In the midst of all the new that different brings, suddenly the same old disappointment of not being pregnant doesn't seem as disappointing and terrible as it did at the time. At least I knew how to do that part.

And this is the crux of it: I hate not knowing how to do this. I hate sitting here listening to her wail instead of drift off to sleep not knowing what I should be doing instead. I hate that there is no recipe that works everytime. Or that just plain works. And by works I mean, makes her fall asleep quickly without crying when I put her in her crib.

So here I am at home with my "gift from God" that is hard work and makes me feel bad a lot. And this is without getting into the world of "impact of children on marriage."

Which leaves me thankful oddly enough. Thankful that early on in this process of wanting family, God taught us both that we were meant to be longing for God's will, God's love, God's way with our lives. We kept on longing for a baby, but asked God all the time to change our hearts and minds to wanting something else if something else was what was going to be provided. In the end, Talia was provided and she is in every way, the fulfillment of that longing.

I think that wisdom means that knowing that the fulfillment of a longing is not meant for our pleasure though. There can be pleasure in it, but it's purpose is not our pleasure. The purpose is what our entire purpose is: to know and be known by the Creator, to glorify Him forever.

This would be so much harder I think, if I didn't know this. What if I didn't know, at least sometimes, that Talia isn't here to make me happy? That our prayers weren't answered so that we would be blissful? That in fact she is here so that we will know God, know that we are known by God and glorify Him forever?

I have to say, this isn't a comfort when she won't do what I want. When I'm up for the third time in the night. When she is crying and won't do what I think she should. Like stop. But in quiet moments, like when we were anchored in our favourite anchorage and she was sleeping forward while the sun set off the starboard side, it is possible to be thankful that God is in the midst of this and that our family is on purpose and that the hard parts are not indications of a terrible, terrible mistake, but just of our need for help.

Need help? No wonder I hate this.

Good thing she's cute.

The Parent Whisperer

One thing I have learned is that in the world of new parents, Baby Sleep is a competitive sport. We met a couple at the coffee shop yesterday morning with a baby born the day after Talia and in answer to the question, "how's it going", they answered with how long young Matthew sleeps (9 and a half hours - we think they use opiates in the bottle).

Young Talia's first sleep in her new crib. Talia's parents enjoy a mix of 2 minute timed cries and
shushing and patting comfort in between while they wait for her to fall asleep.

This is why people write books on how to get babies to sleep. Because there are millions of parents out there desperate to find the answer and willing to spend any amount of money to find it. The sad, unfortunate truth though, is that there is not a book's worth of content for the answer. The answer is actually just one word: wait. These books are actually just a long list of things to do while you wait. You can spend your waiting sleeping with your child, ignoring your wailing child, shushing and patting your child. You can bounce and rock, you sling and swing. You can feed 'em or change 'em. You can attach, ferberize or whisper. But know this - all you are doing is waiting. Waiting for them to figure it out, or move out. Whatever comes first.

You may recall an earlier post where I admitted that I only read baby books until I found one that agreed with me. One that described how I most wanted to wait. I truly believe that all parents that do the same although some are better than others at convincing others that they are in fact choosing a methodology for their child. Ha!

They are not. For example, I could go on and on about the importance of children sleeping in their own beds: it fosters independence, it decreases the risk that they will be crushed by a parent dead asleep and it uses the very cute crib that you've chosen. However, it might be more true to admit that Talia sleeps in her own bed in her own room because I value my own sleep very highly and she makes too many noises too often for me to sleep deeply if she was in my room, never mind my bed. Or, to use my book theory, I don't want to wait with her so nearby. I need some distance in my waiting.

So this afternoon, I'm shushing and patting my daughter into her nap (see The Baby Whisperer to explain this particular way to wait) and I realized truly and deeply that like all parenting books, in addition to not actually doing any thing other than giving me something to do while I wait, it is also meant to make parents like me feel better about what we're doing while we wait.

This particular book is for those of us who need to feel like we're doing something, like we're not completely abandoning our children, but who aren't willing to actually sleep with them either. The shushing may or may not soothe a crying baby, but I realized at minute 7 that it was really soothing me. The patting may or may not ease young Talia into sleep, but it absolutely keeps my hands from covering her mouth to quiet her down. That Tracey Hogg woman made a fortune giving parents like me something to do until our children are old enough to do things like fall asleep on their own, and more importantly helps us feel righteous about doing it. Amazing.

So this will be my book - The Parent Whisperer. It will help parents identify what their parenting priorities are (mine are MY sleep, MY eating and her making me look good in public) and then match them with the waiting activity that most closely matches their hopes. Of course, this will involve me finding out what those other options are - you'll remember that I've only read about the one that matches ME. But you watch, it's going to be a best seller.

Off to start my research. Right after I wake my daughter from the nap I spent an hour getting her to take. But holey moley, did I feel good about how I spent that hour.