Bright and shiny happy formulas

I painted yesterday. Both girls were sleeping, Ada in her bed and Liv in her bassinet within arms reach. It was another "I got this" sort of afternoon. Until it wasn't, because those bright and shiny moments are fleeting—though somehow they sustain you through the longer darker ones.

Que fussing baby (what happened to my ever-so-placid babe?!) and a toddler who was so content gluing paper flowers on construction paper and talking about friends she's met once or probably won't ever see again that it sent her already guilt-prone mother into a guilt spiral. I felt guilty for not trying harder to expand her circle of friends here. I felt bad for missing out on opportunities she would have loved because they seemed too hard for me. I felt bad for Liv who is the current back-burner child that gets nursed on demand, but that's about it. And I felt lonely for the first time in a long while. And all of the sudden everything felt hard. Hard to get dinner on. Hard to pick up. Hard to get kids to bed. Hard to even think about facing another night that might be sleepless and difficult. (It was only a few nights before where all four of us were on the couch around 3 AM. Three of us were crying. I'll let you guess who the one holding it together was.)

But I guess this is what it takes to recognize the bright and shiny moments.

My best friend as told me about "happy formulas." Everyone's is different, but it's important to know yours and make it happen the best you can. I think all of us at our house are just reformulating right now. And I'm not worried. Things will work themselves out and everything will feel (relatively) smooth again. I'm beginning to understand what I need to be happy (and make everyone around me happy). Here's what I've got so far: I know it is at least one-part Haagan-Dazs Salted Caramel Truffle ice cream. See? On the right track already, right?

So different than before

I wondered what it was like entering the world to the screaming cries of your mother. I don't remember my own birth, obviously, but I wondered how much was immediately recallable to my baby in the hours after her own arrival. My pained, panicky voice and burning body ushered in her head, but a rush overcame me and as I delivered her body suffering changed to joy. I tried to replace that possible first shrieking memory with all the tender affection I was bursting with. My little girl was here in her crying, purple-gray glory. And I had her immediately with me as they disconnected our bodies for the first time in 9 months.

The moments after were quiet and serene. Mike was with the baby as she was weighed and measured and before I knew it, it was just the three of us together in the hospital room. So much was so different from my delivery with Ada. Aside from the minutes prior to Olive's birth, the whole experience was much more intimate, personal and quiet than Ada's birth. Maybe that's why she chose the middle of the night to make her appearance—we all welcomed the added serenity of night.

My parents met us in the hallway with Ada as we wheeled from the delivery room to my new home for the next few days. Ada saw us down the hall and ran toward us. She knew immediately who the little person in my arms was, and she was just as immediately smitten. So was I. With all of us. A family of four.

To my girls:
Ada, you're already a tender and sweet big sister. Olive, you're already so lucky.

To think of another

This is where I want to start:

For a solid two years my world has been wrapped up in Ada's. We first discovered Florence together. She was my travel companion to Verona. We've spent hours exploring, hours on a train, hours pounding out journeys by foot, just the two of us. And even though for most of it she has been too small to express a single thought, knowing she was there was my comfort, my constant. Ada is my everything.

And that is why it's so hard for me to think of another.

Before my ultrasound a few weeks ago, thoughts about a new baby swung from overwhelming worry about what two kids means physically—an frenetic ball of toddler and a needy swaddle of baby—to grief that the time I've had with Ada is almost over, and that I'll never be able to spend this kind of time with my next child. There was joy and mystery and excitement sneaking through the cracks like sunshine, but I wanted to feel light bursts of gladness and the sort of wrapped-up enthusiasm that came with the news about expecting Ada. What I felt was more heavy, more solemn.

Don't get me wrong. It all sounds so gloomy compressed into a paragraph. This baby is going to be a bright one. (Tangentially, I am a second daughter and am sure that the time I spent with my own mother was less than she was able to devote to a single child. I have no delusions about this, nor do I think it's sad like my imagination sometimes wants to picture it. It's just one of those many Facts of Life that stand like pillars holding up what's ours.)

On the drive home from the ultrasound appointment, I was washed with peace and calm. All the thoughts about being torn from diaper change to nursing session to meal prep to clean up to art projects to building blocks—and will I ever paint again?—melted with the knowledge that I was carrying a daughter. Two girls. Nothing more perfect. A sister. It was the first time during this pregnancy I've had near-tangible reassuring feelings that this is going to be our greatest blessing yet.

Many of my happiest thoughts about what this baby means come in terms of knowing that she'll be a sister, and that she'll have a sister, Ada Louise, who I rank as one of the best humans on the planet. I know this next daughter will be the same way. To know what joy my own sisters have brought me creates an unbounded thought of gratitude when I picture my own daughters as sisters.

I feel her often now. She kicks and moves and lets me know all the time that she's forming and growing and preparing.

I am too.

I have to ready my heart and trust that a cavernous space I didn't know will be filled and make me full.

2 Years-old

It's amazing to me that my baby is two. What's more amazing is that she won't be my baby come June. There will be a new little face around these parts (I still am having loads of trouble wrapping my mind around this). In fact, my heart at once bursts and breaks when I think that Ada won't be my only child soon. Is this normal? I'm such a swarm of conflicting feelings. On one hand I can't wait to add another little person to the mix. I can't wait to see Ada as a sibling. I can't wait to cuddle and new warm baby and introduce it to the wonders I've slowly discovered the last two years with Ada. On the other hand, the thought of dividing my time further, of spending even less with Ada and Mike and art is a complicating and conflicting thought.

But back to my darling Ada girl. She knows her ABC's and can almost count to 20 unassisted. She can sing all the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and knows several other tunes that she puts most of the words to (Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam, Stars Were Gleaming, Mary has a little Lamb, Row, Row, Row your Boat, Elmo's World Theme Song . . .) She describes things with several adjectives, "Ada wants her purple ciucio with tiny, purple stars." Literally. She has said this to me on several occasions. She speaks in third person 100% of the time and often narrates everything she's doing or experiences. She mimics nearly every word I say. She picks up quickly on emotions. She loves to draw and paint and can do it for several hours a day. She loves Elmo. She seems to prefer book stacking to book reading these days (but perhaps it's because she's tired of our selections at home. . .) She can build the train track by herself but gets frustrated easily when the pieces don't line up on the first try. She loves wearing dresses and necklaces and hats but also loves to run and jump and climb, throw balls and play at the park.

She is a completely different baby than she was when we moved out here in August. In fact, I don't think she's really a baby at all anymore. This growing up business is even harder to watch from the outside. She's more and more fun by the minute (and often more challenging) but the phases pass so quickly and she's shooting up like a weed I'm not sure how much more growing I can take.

Can't we just put things on hold for a bit? A little bit? Please?

Ada, I love you so much my insides turn to pieces. You are the brightest joy of my life. Happy 2nd Birthday, sweetie.

Featuring an ugly red coat

The last few days in Washington were spent cleaning and packing and organizing so coming home from our holiday in Utah would be a pleasant, relaxing experience. Everybody knows you need rehab after a vacation. Somehow they often leave you feeling hung over from all the happy memories made.

We left fairly cold weather in Washington (with those mums still holding on for dear, numby life!) and arrived in mounds of snow in the frozen Utah tundra. Ada couldn't have been happier. I couldn't have been colder.

A few days after arriving she somehow got us all out of the house before 10 and on a sub-arctic walk around the neighborhood. There's a spot from one of our home videos growing up that has my sisters and I playing in the snow on the deck of my parents' Grandview home. My mom is playing commentator while we chase each other and catch snowflakes in our mouths. She says something like, "There's some sort of golden rule where the amount of time it takes to get ready to play in the snow must be twice as long as the time the kids actually play in it." I thought about it every time we got suited up to head outside. Did I mention that Utah is like an arctic subcontinent?

Ada walked off the plane wearing a sign announcing our big news around her neck. It was fun to wait and announce my pregnancy until we were there with our families in person. At nearly 14 weeks I felt super proud of our secret-keeping skills. It took everyone a little bit to realize what Ada was wearing. Seeing their faces was priceless.

I've been feeling relatively good, but more sick and tired than I did during my pregnancy with Ada. I'm sure half the fatigue comes from tearing after my toddler day in and day out and not having the luxury of sleeping in any more (oh the days of sleeping in!!)

We've drilled the phrase "Ada's going to be a big sister because Mommy's having a baby!" into Ada's head. I've heard her say it to her toys (and while she leaves out half the words it still never gets old). We're excited and hoping to build up how great babies are so Ada doesn't get too jealous when the little bundle arrives at the end of June.

Squeez 'er

Thursday was an exhausting day. It was wonderful and exhilarating and everything else, but when I got home after being on campus for ten straight hours (hauling husband, baby and parents along--sorry guys!) all I wanted to do was get in my pj's and snuggle my little one.

Sometimes, I want to squeeze her tighter than you should probably squeeze a newborn. But I can't help it. I just love her so, and it had been way too many hours since I had sat and held her and stroked her head while she fell asleep.

Gosh, I love being a mom.

Brace Yourself

I feel like I heard "Oh just wait until..." throughout my entire pregnancy and now I hear it with my newborn. Wait until she's up all night. Wait until she has an up-the-back-explosion in her cutest outfit. Wait until you're in the middle of a public place and she is crying uncontrollably.

Sure. I'm well aware that every one of these things will probably happen. But I've found that every time I encounter one of the "wait untils" it's never half as bad as everyone makes it out to be.

Like immunizations.

Look who loves getting shots! Just kidding. And I swear I do dress my child in actual clothes...she's not half-naked all the time.

Oh just wait. She'll be screaming like you've never heard. You'll need someone to hold you because you'll be crying so badly!! Well call me heartless but I didn't shed a tear. It just wasn't that bad. She let out a few wails, but was asleep before we left the doctor's office.

I was gearing up all morning for the drama! And there wasn't any. Sure, she was a little fussy that afternoon, but by bedtime she was herself again and the next day you wouldn't have even guessed she was immunized (except for her awesome Barbie and Dora Band-Aids).

I'm not trying to toot my own horn (or my baby's) like we're something extraordinary. I'm just trying to say that while people will tell you all sorts of horror stories, more than likely, you'll be just fine. Yes, there will be tears. Yes, there will be poo. Yes, there you will be tired. But moms are made of something extra tough. You'll be just fine.

Doth Cliapering

Or cloth diapering if you don't have mild dyslexia like we do. . .

I've been asked for an update from a few friends on how this whole cloth diapering adventure is going. For those interested, here's my recap of the cloth diapering adventure so far.

First: Why cloth?
I have a few reasons and I think it's pretty much the same reason that everyone else these days cloth diapers.

1. Disposables are ex.pen.sive. Most estimate anywhere between $2,000 and $3,000 bucks. Sure, sure, you can get GIANT BOXES of diapers at Costco on the cheap, but after asking my parents (who go with generic brands 90% of the time unless a formal test--aka "hey Paige, which of these syrups do you think tastes better?--reveals a far inferior product) if Kirkland diapers stack up to Huggies and they both gave an emphatic "NO" I decided to price out name brand diapers. Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Personally, I'd rather spend that on a hot date. Or a pedicure. Or paying hospital bills (ha).

2. Plastic disposables take 500 years to decompose (When I told my mom this she skeptically said, "What?! Disposables haven't even been around for 500 years. How they heck can they claim that?" Good point. But I believe it. Can't they do some science and figure it out?) and Americans alone toss 50 million a day. That's 20 billion a year. So while I don't expect the world to cloth diaper, and I admire mothers whether they use cloth or disposables, I feel a little less guilty by reducing the gross amount of trash I already produce.

3. They're freaking adorable. When I diaper my baby, I get the same feeling I used to get when I would put on a cute pair of undies. It's a simple pleasure.

Sporting a Golly Molly Pink gDiaper. And a Barbie Band-Aid courtesy of the Doc's.

Second: What brand?

There are an overwhelming number of choices for the new-cloth-diaperer. After a considerable amount of research, I went with gDiapers for a variety of reasons. One of which was because of the hybrid system (aka cloth and disposable--but not just any disposables. Flushable, biodegradable disposables!) I wasn't sure if the babysitting grandmas would be as excited about cloth diapering my child as I was. This also gives me a nice option when I travel or don't have time to do laundry or feel just plain lazy. I also thought the gDiapers were the cutest. Ever. The little "g" on the bum basically screams "Gee! I'm darling!" Yes, "g", yes you are. So far, I love them.

There are three parts to every diaper which seems like a lot of complication, but it's not. At all. There's the cover (the colorful exterior), a plastic, snap-in liner, and a hemp insert (the actual cloth that is next to the baby's skin). Most often, the only part I have to wash is the insert. I have 3 dozen of these and it's perfectly sufficient for full-time cloth diapering. I have 10 covers and 6 extra liners.

Our stash. Disposable inserts are folded on the left. The covers are lined up in the front, and the cloth inserts are stacked behind.

Surprisingly, I hardly ever use the disposables. I think we've used somewhere around 20 in a month and a half? The grandma's (and other babysitters) were actually totally fine to do the cloth diaper thing once I introduced them to the system. I use a wet/dry bag from Planet Wise (after a great tip from a friend). When I change a diaper, I have the clean one already loaded, swap out the dirty diaper (cover, liner and insert) and set it aside until the new diaper is on. Then I'll shake the liner and wipes into the Wet Side and put the cover/liner back in the dry side (unless it was a poopy diaper. Usually what I'll do in that case is unsnap the liner and toss both the liner and the insert into the Wet Side and put just the cover in the dry side). Basically anything dirty or wet in the Wet Side and anything clean and dry stays in the Dry Side. I've never smelled a thing and I carry this bag with me everywhere (unless I don't have Ada with me. That would be weird).

Third: Bottom line

So far, I have yet to have even a hint of a blow-out  (which is amazing considering our little Ada Lou saves them up for a good 2 or 3 days and unloads all at once) or a rash. Laundry has also, surprisingly, been a non-issue. I do it every other day which may sound killer. But guess what?! The loads are smaller so it doesn't seem as bad AND I HAVE YET TO LOSE A SOCK since we have started doing it so often. What a perk!

The cost upfront seems fairly considerable, especially when facing all the other costs that come with having a baby. But we found that by ordering through Diapers.com (first time users got some 30% cash back deals on diapers) it was completely affordable and HOORAY we haven't spent a dime on diapers since. (When Ada grows out of this size, however, we'll have to order the next size up...) Plus there are always sales and deals to be had. Always.

I'll keep you updated on how I like this cloth diapering business once the real poop arrives . . .


Questions? Email me. I've got a lot more where this came from.

A new normal

This little one is two months old. I can hardly believe it. How could she already be 11 pounds and nearly 24 inches long?! The time sped by without me noticing the days passing. But while it's seems like only days ago that we met in the hospital room, at the same time I can't remember life without her. (Not very well at least). Haven't I always been her mama?

I'm asked quite often by friends if it's weird being a mom. My answer is always the same: Not weird.

Natural.  

Being a mom--as in, the act of mothering--has come very naturally for me. There's something sweet about knowing that Ada needs me. Knowing she needs me makes me need her. But it is weird that I have a child. When I step back and look at my life, it's strangely wonderful, and strangely strange all at once. It sounds funny, but it's almost odd to think of her as my daughter. She's my baby and I'm her mama. These terms seem so much less serious and big than MOTHER and DAUGHTER. Although, I'm sure we'll grow into serious and big terms soon enough.

I'm also asked if things have "returned to normal" yet. I can confidently say, "Yes they have. A new normal, that is." And I'm liking my new normal more and more.

Month 1

I know. MORE BABY PICTURES! I get it. Who doesn't like looking at cute babies? I've been trying to find the minutes to put this little video together (yet another project that Mike says, "is on an unsustainable path...") I'm surprised it took me so long. But here it is. For your viewing pleasure. Over a month late.

Month 1 from Paige Anderson on Vimeo.

Introducing

Happy Monday

Week 41

Gold Medalist

You know your life has changed when the most exciting part of your day was finding a poop in your baby's diaper. And you know that you're never going back when you applaud your infant for nearly unloading on your husband's hand and then applauding and congratulating her like she had won an Olympic gold medal.

I love it.

The first few days have definitely provided both Mike and I with several curve balls. I thanked him for helping so much last night and he responded with "What? I nearly fed our baby a slushie!" We're still learning. I can't get over what classic first-time parents we are who worry about things like her mouth breathing and count soiled diapers obsessively (and cheer on our baby's bowel movements).

It's still sinking in that she's mine. Forever. Oh how I love her so, so and so!

What did I expect?

I had a lot of dreams about what the pregnancy journey would be like. I imagined sharing our news with family in some fun--possibly elaborate--way. Heck, I thought I'd surprise Mike with the news in an exciting fashion. I expected to drive around the city picking up various kinds of mashed potatoes (or some other random food) trying to satisfy an intense craving. I envisioned myself waking Mike up in the middle of the night saying, "I think this is it!" and rushing to the hospital, getting there just in time, and delivering a beautiful baby girl.

But it wasn't like that at all. The news leaked before we got a chance to share. Mike was the one who held the flashing pregnancy test until it read PREGNANT and actually gave me the news. Cravings? What cravings? I had one. And rather than getting to drive to the hospital because of waves of contractions, we waited for the doctors to call us saying they were ready to induce.

But what I didn't expect was how instantly I would fall in love with my baby girl; how instantly I would feel like a mother; how instantly I would feel peace and contentment in just holding her close. It has been a truly incredible day.

See your shadow?

Dear Baby,

The Groundhog came out and saw his shadow today. Want to come out and see yours? Let me know.

Love,
Your Mama

Kickboxing

I feel this little baby almost constantly now. Especially as I'm trying to get to sleep, which keeps me up. Not because it's uncomfortable or annoying, but because I'm too excited to sleep. I lie awake thinking, "Oh, that's her! There's a little human inside!" I always grab Mikey's hand and press it to where she's been jabbing the most and somehow our sneaky little babe senses he's near and acts very well behaved indeed.

But today we caught her off guard. I was lying on the couch and she was practicing her kickboxing when I grabbed Mikey's hand (it's like a routine now, he doesn't even guess what I'm doing) and place it perfectly.

"Whoa!"

He snapped his hand back like something had bit him.

"Didja feel her!?"

"Yeah. Crazy!"

It was so funny. Way to go Baby A. You already gave your daddy a start. I have a feeling we're going to have our hands full with you. . .

A letter

Dear August,

You've been good to me. In fact, I think this is the first month that has actually felt like Summer. Sure I was in California for 2 plus weeks in July, but can you say COLDEST SUMMER ON RECORD? That's what the newspaper said at least . . .

So I just want to take a moment and thank you. Thank you for showing me why I love Provo. Thank you for those seemingly endless nights where it was warm past midnight. Thank you for letting a friend come and for helping my mind grow. Thanks for letting us find out early that our baby is going to be a girl. I've basically been on a high for weeks. Thank you for that really long (and hot, I might add) bike ride last Saturday with my sweetie (both of them). I won't be able to ride too much longer (doctor's orders) and I needed to feel my body in the wind like I did.

Thanks for letting me be productive, even though it felt lazy to lay in bed until 11 in front of my computer. I have two books ready to send off and I can't wait to smell their new pages (laptop screens just don't provide the same pleasure). Thank you for helping me sleep in a little bit since I'm up much of the night making so many trips to the bathroom that my knuckles are chapped from washing so much.

Most of all thanks for ending soon. I'm excited to face this semester head on and you need to get out of the way first.

With much appreciation,

P

Photoshoot

We went in to look at our babe a few days ago. Have you ever seen such a sweet little profile?

I'm totally in love.