I had so much time to blog when we were trying to get pregnant; I could write about every color my skin turned after an injection and how I loathed every flagrant pregnant person who dared shop at my grocery store. I thought this would be a great thing to continue doing once we were finally pregnant and even after… ya know. The truth is I do still occasionally have the thought, “The crazy thing that just happened must be blogged about!” But I never ever prioritize it. If there’s a moment to be had, I still, after a full year of moming, go for sleep, eating by myself, or a shower. If I’m somehow well rested, I may even go for exercise. But I have yet to choose blogging. I know I’m blogging right now, but it’s just to say.
Josie turned one at the end of the year. We had a small party to which she was fashionably late (she chose that day to begin napping well). I scoured the city for a bakery that makes desserts without gluten, dairy, sugar, soy, corn, or any other thing to which Josie tested sensitive. She did not care
for the cupcakes (nor did many other people); this gave me a small glimpse into the years ahead when I’ll be whining such things as, “I worked so hard to find something you could have and you don’t even want to try it?!” We had the party away from the house because of how poorly her 6-month party went (Josie screaming through the entire thing and needing to be held in another room). We brought her big foam puzzle piece play mats and a bunch of oversize Leggos for the babies to play on/with. I think her favorite part was when we flash mobbed her, which is to say we all got in a big circle and did some of her favorite numbers (hokey-pokey, wheels on the bus, go bananas); she loved it, wearing an expression that said, “You all know my songs? That’s nuts! Sing unto me, my people!”
So long ago in the naive days of before-Josie, I thought that I would be back to doing some kind of work at three months. Ha! At that point we hadn’t even figured out her tongue-tie/eating issue and I still hurt to move for the shredded crotch. Now, here at twelve months, I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t find something to do with myself that isn’t Josie related. (BTW, I don’t need suggestions of what to do; the world is my oyster, yadda yadda.) But we’re just starting to get out of the house to try play groups and mommy and me’s and baby shows, etc. I think I’m just trying to find the balance between pushing to get up, dressed and out of the house after each nap (which I mostly do by running on adrenaline) and staying at home where Josie cries to be “walked” around the living room for hours on end. Finding said balance (while being a generally impatient person) and wishing there was something I’d love to do in this world that would allow me to make more money than I would pay in childcare… I will call this my Wish At Year One.
An example of pushing out of the house comes from this past Friday. Mama had been sick and coughing all night for days, Josie had the bug for a day but was better, and I had been fighting the throat demon (and the insomnia beast) for the past couple of nights. I heard of a dance party (open to the public) at a co-op nearby where people go with their kids to play whenever for a monthly fee and a simple job. Though I felt like a ball of peanut butter, lint and hair, I got us dressed and over to the party by 10am. I knew I’d probably end up losing the fight to the flu bug for pushing myself, but it was so worth it. Imagine a ballroom full of toddlers and babies and parents—and a DJ. Josie took off scooting (’cause she don’t crawl) all over the wood floors, chasing down balls and hula hoops (usually out of the hands of slightly older kids whose moms told them to give up the toy… I should teach her about sharing, huh?). There were dress-up party clothes to don, but we didn’t venture into that mess. She and I danced to Michael Jackson and some other tunes; I spun her around a few times (even though I could hurl) because she gives the biggest smile every time.
We’re going for it again tomorrow. There’s a concert series put on in Portland with real bands that play just for kids. It’s called YouWho, and tomorrow Blind Pilot is playing a show at a venue two blocks from our house. I have no idea what to expect. Will they play their own music, which I’d imagine would bore children to tears but make the parents cheer? Does the band take the time to learn kids’ songs? All I know is that it was cheap and it’s so close; we can leave and be home in five minutes for any reason. That is what I call an outing!
Basted 