Grandmotherly Love

I’m writing this column from my parents’ house in Florida. My daughter and I arrived yesterday. From the moment the plane touched down, my daughter was catapulted into a world of unfamiliar faces and voices and hands that want to cuddle her.

She takes it all in stride, and I believe I have an assortment of Newfoundland grannies to thank for this.

We meet these lovely grandmothers everywhere. Some of the more popular grandmother spots are the exit and entrances of craft fairs, The Clarenville Inn during bus tour season, the check out aisle at Walmart in the middle of the afternoon, the waiting area at the airport, and Rod’s on a Sunday morning.

These women see my daughter and gush over her with such gusto that my proud mother heart hurts.

My baby smiles magnanimously.  She revels in the attention, but plays it cool, by clapping her hands, shyly looking away, and then engaging in a quick game of peek-a-boo.

She has become so accustomed to getting attention when she is out that she is miffed when people around her don’t engage.  She offers her drooly grin with its three little teeth, and when the smile is not reciprocated she gurgles to me in exasperation and points her finger at the offending person.

But this never occurs when the grandmothers are around.

They greet her with the phrase, “Aren’t you gorgeous!”

Then the cooing, leg pinching, cheek tickling and rapturous praise begins. 

When it is over, the grandmothers all tell me about the grandchildren they have in provinces far away, or the children working abroad on the verge of becoming a parent.

I can hear the ache in their voices, and I understand that the attention being lavished upon my daughter is really just a moment for them to exercise some of that pent up grandmotherly love.

It is then my turn to gush. I listen to them share the recent milestones their grandchildren attained, and tell them how handsome and smart their grandchildren must be based what they describe to me.

For three minutes we all engage in a mutually beneficial relationship.  With her grandmothers far away, my daughter experiences what it is like to bask in the unfettered adoration a beloved grandchild can feel. With their grandchildren far away, these grandmothers can pretend that the loving smiles my daughter gives them are the same as the ones they’d receive from their own grandchildren.

Of course she can’t replace their actual grandchildren, or vice versa, but together they each fill a little part of the tear distance rends in the heart.

I used to worry that coming home to my big, loud, in-your-face family would be scary for my daughter after our quiet months in Newfoundland, but thanks to the kindness and the enthusiasm of these women, my daughter associates new faces with love.

As I type this, I watch my daughter play on a swing erected especially for her in her grandmother’s back yard. She shrieks with glee every time she is pushed, and reaches her hands out to touch her grandmother’s face.  

I pray that this holiday season, I’m not the only one experiencing these treasured moments with my far away family.

52:14

52:14

Newfoundland is

bedtime rituals.

How sweet is this?

She is totally into this Star Wars ABC book I bought her...well, really, bought my husband. She loves anything that is a picture of a person or dog-like creature (Wookies, Ewoks, etc.) and zones out on the droid and space ship pages.

It can be frustrating reading to her, because she wants to hold the book, bite the book. turn eight pages at once, and roll over and over on your lap, but we keep at it.

The reading teacher in me is obsessed with making sure she'll have a good foundation for school. The kid who moved every few years, and then grew into an adult that moves every few years knows what friends books can be. I want her to associate books with home, love, knowledge,

...and SLEEP.

I get so excited when this sleep ritual actually works. When we feed her, change her, read her a book, put her in her bed awake and she happily falls asleep.

This works three out of ten times.

When it does, we practically skip out of her room, giddy with our success.

Sometimes we let her her cry it out and she falls asleep within ten minutes.

Sometimes she is having none of it, and bedtime just happens when it happens.

Which I know is completely against the rules if you are trying to teach your baby to soothe herself to sleep, but I just don't feel comfortable letting her scream, and slam her head against the crib for hours on end.

That little baby temper makes me nervous about what the future holds.

Anyways, happy Friday!

I'm off to Montreal for a week (YAY!!!!!) and will be posting a bit sporadically.

See the original Project 52 at Styleberryblog here. 

Newfoundland is...

52:1: Mostly Grey and Wet

52:2: Childhood Dreams Coming True

52:3: An Opportunity for Growth

52:4: Shifting Priorities

52:5: Blue Bays

52:6: Early Fog-filled Mornings

52:7: Sunsets

52:8: Pajama Parties

52:9: Far Away From Grandparents

52:10: An Opportunity to Save

52:11: Staying Creative

52:12: Succumbing to Autumn

52:13: Friendly Neighbors

Goodnight, Little Bird. Goodnight.

Two weeks ago, I promised a post about a sewing project I was working on. 

I bought felt in a variety of different colors to make some round bunting for my girlie's room. Then I ran out of ivory colored felt, and there was none to be found here in Clarenville.

I ordered some online, it came in yesterday and I finished this...

I had a nifty Instagram version of this, but my daughter looked a bit evil in it.

My daughter has a plastic house with little birds on the roof. The birds sing a little song she loves that ends with the lyrics, "Goodnight little bird, goodnight!"

Little bird is also what a mother calls her child in the song "Highway" by Ingrid Michaelson. I've been humming this song to my baby from before she was born.



The bunting is actually a project from a Home Ec Sewing e-course I'm taking.

I'm really loving all the step-by-step projects.

While I'm writing about my daughter's room I thought I'd share some details of her nursery.

My inspiration was this gorgeous white room with the beautiful mosquito netting.

Source: gallery.apartmenttherapy.com via Jayme on Pinterest

So originally, her crib looked like this...

with some origami cranes encircling the top.

but then I caught her trying to pull the netting into the crib, and I could imagine her wrapping it around her neck, so I yanked it all down.

Here are some other little detail shots.

The crib is a Jenny Lind, the pictures are from old Caribbean pictures of my childhood (Cric Crac and The Owl and The Pussycat), the mobile is from Etsy, the changing table knob is from Anthropologie, and the sheets are Carousel Designs.

I also made a growth chart inspired by this Etsy shop and Shawna at Styleberryblog.

Whenever we have company, we put their measurements on the chart, so it acts as a guest book and a record of growth. I'm really regretting not adding another coat of paint to it. All the knots are showing through.

As you can see, all of my children are included.

I love, love, love my little bird's room. It is such a happy, sunny space.

Walmart Wednesday 12: Hair, there and everywhere

I haven't had a haircut in over a year.

There are a number of reasons why this is the case (not really knowing where to go get a haircut in this town, no one to watch the baby while I go, general apathy and laziness).

Last time I was home I decided to go get it cut, since it was well past my shoulders. When I measured it, I was a half inch shy of the Locks of Love requirement, so I figured I may as well wait a bit longer.

I like the way long hair looks when it is all wild and curly like this:

 But that requires air drying, and there is nothing that feels grosser to me than cold wet hair on my neck and back.

Yes, I could blow dry it too, but that takes time, effort, coordination and muscular forearms.

I would totally play the mom card and say I don't have time for hair care with the baby, but the truth is I never made time for blowdrying when I was childless, freewheeling, footloose and fancy free, so why on earth would I make time for it now that I get a precious hour of alone time everyday?

 So my hair usually goes up in a severe wet bun so that I don't have to feel it or think about it.

I think pulling my hair back like this for twenty seven years is causing my hairline to recede.

I'm not all that concerned though, because I can totally rock a wig.




Why am I rambling on and on about my hair?

Because this week's Walmart Wednesday post is inspired by my desire to make my wet pony tail or bun look prettier with these...

Yes they will add approximately 30 seconds to my comb, pull back, and tie in a knot morning hair routine, but I'm willing to make sacrifices for these babies!

Good job Walmart!

Anyone, find anything surprisingly pretty when removed from its Walmart context?

See my other Walmart Wednesday finds here!

Things You Won't Find in the Baby Books: A New Host of Nightmares

I have always been a vivid dreamer. I spend a lot of time daydreaming, but I also am one of those annoying people who remembers what they dream at night and wants to relate them in agonizing detail to anyone who will listen.

It is one of my many irritating qualities, and the fact that my husband half listens to my lunatic dream ramblings, further reminds me that I'm married to a saintly man.

When I was younger I used to dream about tornadoes and hurricanes approaching my home, and that I was screaming to my family to take shelter, but no one would listen to me.

I used to wake up in tears after dreaming about my dad dying. I  used to insert myself into strange mishmashes of my favorite television shows. I used to dream about the students who caused me the most grief in the classroom.

I had to wake up and tell myself to

Source: abisaturday.tumblr.com via Jayme on Pinterest

Then I had my baby, and my dreams became terrifying.

When she was first born, and I was sleeping in the hospital I dreamed that she was horribly disfigured, with no eyes or hands.

We brought her home. I would wake up in the night frantically pulling at the covers around my feet. I would dream that she was in the bed with us, had worked her way under the covers around my feet, and was suffocating.

 This was distressing to our dog in particular, because he usually was sleeping around my feet when these dreams occurred only to be rudely awoken by my abrupt, terrified jostling and mumbles of "Get her out! Get her out!"

Lately, I dream that I leave the house and forget about her. She is stuck on top of the dryer, or in the bathtub. I am blissfully unaware until someone starts yelling at me about being an incompetent mother.

These are not the type of dreams I want to have during my precious hours of sleep. I'd much rather be dreaming I'm a singing, dancing character in a mash up of Glee, West Wing, Mad Men, and Community.

But not Dexter.

Don't get me started on my terrifying Dexter nightmares.

Speaking of which, is anyone else excited about the new season of Dexter starting soon?

I'm actually stressing out for him after the ending of last season.

I clearly need to stop watching so much tv.

Project 52:3

Every day I count my blessings that our path has led us to our quiet life on this rock.

I have the rare opportunity to spend these years doing things on my own terms without the scrutiny of a boss dictating my nine to five.

That is, unless you count my six month old as the supreme jefe, because she certainly has the biggest say in how my hours will be spent each day.

I've made it my mission to use my time in Newfoundland for personal growth, so there is some heavy-handed symbolism in the photos this week.

The first picture is of a violet my mother bought for me in January when she came for the birth of my daughter. She brought it home from Sobeys, but when she reached into the grocery bag to pull it out, she accidentally crushed all the flowers on it.

I identified with that crushed and mangled plant during the first few days of motherhood. My body was broken, and I wasn't sure how I would survive raising my baby so far away from my family.

It is six months later. The violet has exploded with healthy new blossoms. I feel like my spirit is blossoming too.

The second picture is of an art journal I'm working on thanks to an e-course I found at A Beautiful Mess. It is just one of many ways I'm working on growing the artistic side of myself that has lain dormant for the past six years.

I'm also taking a sewing class, writing for the local paper, and trying to expand my perspective of the world by learning Spanish. I'm using Pinterest as a tool to learn how to cook, make things, and do things. I feel the synapses constantly firing in my head and it is exhilarating!

If I hadn't moved to Newfoundland with my husband, I'd still be working with no time for all of these activities.

The third picture represents the intellectual, physical, and emotional growth I'm trying to foster in my baby girl.

It is a picture of Eric Carle's The Grouchy Lady Bug, which I read to my daughter for the first time today.

I find it incredible to watch her grab the pages of the book, to listen to her imitate my inflections and my chuckle, and to see the intensity of her stare as she tries to understand the intricacies of the world around her.

This season of my life is one of constant, glorious growth.

Whew.

Is anyone still reading?

I'm sorry. The English major in me is rearing it's (long-winded) head.

To see the inspiration for this project head over to Styleberry Blog.

Losing the baby weight: Extra Motivation

I have so many Pinterest projects in the work at the moment! My husband walked through the garage last night and came in gasping for air, completely freaked out by the strong lingering spray paint fumes.

I can't wait to post these projects as they are completed. In fact, I'm typing this post while waiting for some hot glue to dry on one of these projects.

Sadly, this is a post of a Pinterest project I'm not so thrilled with.

I attempted to paint a copy of a tree painting from Pier 1 last summer. They no longer sell the painting, which is a good thing because my version is terrible and I'm ashamed to show you how far off it looks from the original.

Anyway, I hated the way it turned out. I don't like the colors I chose, but because I invested time painting it, I felt compelled to display it. 

In the basement. 

Where the only time I see it is when I work out.

It is no fun looking at something I failed at while attempting to do something I'm currently failing at- losing this baby weight.

So I decided to turn the painting into a motivational message. 

I tend to cheat during my workouts, not push myself hard enough, and barely break a sweat. I want to run a 5K in October, so these cop out workouts are going to lead to a VERY embarrassing finish time.

So here is the original painting:

Yes, there is a "D" taped on the canvas. I forgot to take a proper before photograph.

This is the PINspiration for this project:

Source: abeautifulmess.typepad.com via Jayme on Pinterest

I should have used a more colorful, intricate painting as my base, and actual letter stickers as Elsie and Emma from A Beautiful Mess suggested (I love their blog!). But I was lazy and desperate to do something new with my ugly painting.

I taped my message down, and spray painted over the message.

And this is the resulting "masterpiece."

Better than the original, but still not great. I got a little tape-happy on the sides and I should have just painted the whole thing.

So whenever I'm working out and I see it, I tell myself to do my best, and not treat my workout the way I treated this painting.

What keeps you motivated during workouts? Any luck shedding post baby pounds?

Mommy Confession

New moms of the internet, I'm going to admit something that may make me sound ill-equipped for motherhood.

If I was a celebrity the media would plaster unflattering pictures of me all over the tabloids with some inflammatory headline setting all of America against me (see below), because of what I'm about to say.

Who is giving these grades?

I did not fall in love with my baby the first second I saw her.

I didn't cry.

I didn't feel enraptured.

I actually thought, "She's kind of ugly."

She's not too sure of me either.

I wasn't depressed, just ambivalent.

It took me a day or two to feel the "glowiness" everyone told me I would feel instantly.

Don't worry. Now I'm certain I have the most beautiful, hilarious, intelligent little five month old that ever existed, and I will TAKE OUT anyone who says differently.

Awww. And yes, we're totally ripping off Copy Cat Chic's weekly photo project.

I've always loved my daughter, I just didn't fall IN LOVE with her until she and I had a chance to know each other a little better.

And I don't think my experience is odd or uncommon.

It's really hard to find statistics on this kind of thing, so I can't say with certainty that there are tons of other women like me. I beat myself up a lot in the first day or so after she was born because I thought there was something wrong with me for not reacting to my daughter the way the baby books, TV shows, and movies all depicted new mothers reacting. You know, with flowing tears, and exclamations of wonder and joy.

I tried to hide my lack of emotion from everyone around me, but I'm sharing now because I want to help other new moms experiencing this to not feel guilty or unnerved by lack of feeling.  It's okay to slowly establish an attachment with your newborn.

Yes, you had nine months, but the baby you imagined in utero and the baby who is laying beside you may just take a little while to converge into the same baby.

It's okay.
You are not a bad mother.

You'll love that little baby to pieces soon enough.

Cut yourself some slack, and know that all newborns are ugly, alien-looking creatures at first. 


But they'll eventually turn into the delicious cuddle bugs you were put on this earth to treasure and brag about to anyone who will listen.

This is my gorgeous baby girl.

Isn't she spectacular?