Umm..excuse me?

     A few days ago, Gracie and I were at the grocery store. Gracie loves shopping. She sits in the cart, holds on tight and flirts, coos and waves at everyone . She doesn't squirm or fuss. She doesn't attempt to fling herself out of the seat or wiggle everywhere. She sits still and happy, sometimes secured by the little strap, sometimes not. And I am always right in front of her, most often with my hand somewhere on her.
But, I digress.
            I was picking out bananas, trying to find the perfect bunch that would entice Grace to eat something more than popsicles. One hand on the cart, Grace in my peripheral vision as always. All of the sudden, I hear from behind me "Excuse me!" and feel a strangers hand on my shoulder. I turn around too see an elderly lady literally scowling at me. I must have looked extremely confused, because she launched into an immediate explanation of her sour expression. "I can not believe you would put a baby that young in the cart. She is far too little to sit up in there like that and you are risking a very serious injury. It is irresponsible  to put such a young and small baby in a grocery cart".
 Umm..what?
I gave the woman a sickly sweet smile and replied "She's actually 13 months old and I've got a pretty close eye on her, but thank you for your concern."
 The woman's face showed only a hint of embarrassment as she said "Oh..well...she is certainly going to be small, isn't she? I thought she was only about 6 months" Her tone was still disapproving, like perhaps I was starving my child, dwarfing her on purpose. Grace then threw her pacifier in her general direction and laughed, effectively ending our conversation.
          Now, I have heard a lot of ridiculous, completely unsolicited things as a young mother- particularly as a young mother who didn't run to the altar the second she discovered she was expecting. Things such as "well you sure did everything backwards, didn't you?" and "Well, at least you weren't 18 when you had her".  Seriously. But in what universe do you live in where how I chose to contain my child at the grocery store is ANY of your business? If she was putting herself in danger, if I wasn't paying attention...maybe you have a case for yourself. But when my happy girl is sitting contently, STRAPPED IN TO THE CART watching me pick out bananas- I think I've got things under control. Do you offer your opinion to people outside smoking cigarettes, about how unsafe that is? What about the people with carts full of junk food..do you warn about the dangers of obesity? Somehow, I don't think so.

On a happy note...

        Dear GBaby,
               Here are somethings you love doing at 13 months:

• Blowing kisses. You haven't quite figured out that your hand is supposed to leave your mouth, but the end result is pretty cute. 

• Showing us where your head and nose are. Sometimes this translates into a booger-seeking, nose-picking mission...which I don't particularly appreciate, but your Dad & Mimi think it's pretty funny.           

• "Tickling". It generally ends up more painful than tickle-y, but Daddy & I giggle appropriately all the same. 

• Saying "Shhhhh". Daddy enjoys invoking this skill when I am talking about something important or asking him to do something. 

• Signing "more" and "please". This is so gosh darn adorable that it normally gets you exactly what you want, even if you've already eaten your weight in cheerios. I think you've already figured this out. Shoot. 

• Cruising everywhere. You can now get from the kitchen into our bedroom. If Daddy pretends to chase you, you can move at warp speed to get away. Sometimes you get distracted checking out something cool and stand on your own...but once you realize this, you swan-dive for the nearest stationary object. Seeing as you recently opened a cabinet door and sat inside, I'm in no rush for you to be any more mobile...but it's coming.

• Showing off your two new bottom chompers. Finally, you have teeth! I can cancel that baby denture order that I was sure was going to be necessary. 

• Snuggling. In the morning, Daddy normally gets you from your crib and lays you in bed with me. You lay your head on my chest and say good morning, and in Gracie-speak you chronicle your dreams for me. This is by far the best part of my day & a memory I know I will find myself returning to when you are rolling your eyes at me at age 16.  

                                                    You are the sweetest baby girl.
You are learning new things every day  & you are expanding our world by association. We're bursting with love and laughter and wonder- all thanks to you.
                                          Love you to the moon & back,
                                                                     Mama.
                    

        
      

Things I wish I had known...

In case you haven't noticed...it seems to be the season for cookin' & serving up babies. Everywhere I look, there are pregnant ladies- gorgeous, glowing, exhausted, uncomfortable looking pregnant ladies. I want to touch all their bellies (thanks Rhi for indulging me), ask what they are having, when they are having it, what their birth plan is, what their nursery theme is...and then I remember exactly how I used to feel when strangers felt entitled to asking me these questions. Let me remain polite here and just say...I didn't love it. 

Unsolicited advice abounds in pregnancy- everyone is a child-development expert, part-time birthing coach, survivor of the most epic labor ever...so I try and keep my comments to a minimum unless they are specifically requested. However, I feel this is an appropriate venue to share the things I have learned along the way..and the things I wish someone had included in one of the three-zillion baby books that I read...

• Everybody (and I mean EVERYBODY) wants to share their labor story with you. I got a pedicure about a week before I delivered. The lady doing my toes took that as an appropriate moment to tell me about how her daughter was 10lbs (at this point, we thought I was quite a bit overdue, so having a gigantic baby was a bit of a concern of mine) and “ripped her to shreds”. Direct quote. I had nightmares. Lesson learned- find some way to tune out whenever anyone begins to share their oh-so-helpful (read: entirely petrifying) experience with childbirth. Nobody has the exact same experience. I would sing songs to myself, begin to alphabetize my DVD collection in my head...you get the idea. 

• Warning- I’m going to get a little graphic here. But this is something I think should be shared with every pregnant woman. If you have a vaginal birth..it is going to really hurt to pee afterwards.This is a very simple fact that was nowhere to be found in anything I ever read. Let me just add here that my labor was pretty fast and furious...I arrived at the hospital at 11 pm ish and Grace had arrived by 1:33 am. I swear I pushed all of 5 times. I shudder to think of what other women have gone through, those with more intense experiences. I had Grace with no pain medication. I never made a sound while in labor, never grunted or groaned, let alone screamed. When the nurse who delivered Grace (she had no need to wait for a doctor...that’s just the kind of girl she is) suggested I try to go to the bathroom, I bee-bopped in there, delirious over the fact I was now so deliciously pain free...and shrieked. I was certain I was peeing razor-blades. The nurse casually called in  “Oh yeah, that might sting a little bit hun”. A LITTLE BIT? Following this experience, I went on a hydration strike, which led to Andrew and Robyn trying to coax me to drink by bringing me every delicious (and hospital friendly...if they were smarter they would have tried to smuggle me a margarita) beverage possible. I refused. The insertion of a catheter was threatened & I, much to everyones dismay, encouraged this idea. I was never EVER going to try and pee again. Perhaps if I had been more prepared for this...situation...I wouldn’t have had such a dramatic response. So when people do ask me for birthing advice...this is the gem I always share with them. Charming, right?

• Breast feeding hurts. And it’s hard. People elude to the fact that it might be difficult. Or uncomfortable. But mainly they focus on the wonderful, warm and fuzzy bonding experience that it is. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is an incredibly beautiful and rewarding thing. This does not negate the fact that initially...it HURTS and it is HARD. Another instance where brutal honesty would have served me well. There were times, in the beginning, where I literally cried and thought that I must just be really awful at this whole thing, because it shouldn’t possibly hurt this much. If you stick with it, for as long as you can stand it- it does get easier. Automatic, you can practically stay sleeping while doing it at 2 in the morning, kind of easier. Seek out support wherever you can find it--- don’t let the lactation consultants (who I fondly referred to as the “Nipple Nazi’s”..please don’t take offense to this, keep in mind I went on a straight almost 48 hours with no sleep) and La Leche league enthusiasts over-whelm you or discourage you, because you just don’t think it would be practical for you to breast-feed until your child reaches kindergarten and you are sure they will judge you because of this. And if you want to  exclusively breast-feed...don’t let any doctor try and push you to supplement with formula, as long as your child isn’t losing weight. If you want to know more about my experience with this, I’d be happy to share. Let’s just say my slow-weight gaining baby girl- who a certain doctor tried to claim needed to be switched to, or at least supplemented with formula as a newborn- stopped nursing completely at around 7 months, switched to formula and even now with eating 3 real meals a day...is still only 17lbs, in the 5th percentile, and a peanut. She’s JUST SMALL. I was not starving her. And I’m so proud of the fact that I stuck with nursing her, despite this pressure. And the reverse is true too- if breast feeding just isn’t for you, don’t let anybody pressure you to stick with it. A cranky, miserable mommy is going to = a cranky, miserable baby. Do what feels right to YOU. Stepping off my soap-box now, I promise. 

• There is so much more I wanted to share, but I will leave this post with this- nobody prepares you for the constant worry, guilt and anxiety of parenthood. No matter how much you have read, what kind of awesome support you have (my mom was a pediatric nurse for a very long time)- you are always worried that you are doing something wrong. That she wouldn’t have gotten such a bad ear infection if you didn’t let her have a pacifier. That maybe she never crawled because you couldn’t stand to hear her cry during tummy-time. It’s endless. I try so hard to just enjoy every second, every milestone, just to love being Gracie’s mommy. But I worry. All the time. About doing this monumentally important job well. I once read somewhere that if you worry about being a good parent, you probably already are one. This phrase has been comforting to me and hopefully, it is true. 

Maybe someday I will write an honest, mildly inappropriate, true account of what to REALLY expect when you’re expecting...but I worry this will just turn me into a more in-your-face version of those supermarket baby whispers/labor geniuses.  Yikes! :)

Have I mentioned that this moment makes it ALL worth it?Every time I think about it, I get the chills. There's you daily serving of cheeeeese. :)