It sounded so much easier when I said it to her - my friend who was going through the same thing. "It just means that you're such a good mommy that he feels safe and secure to venture out - take it as a compliment."  That was my advice to her when her baby ran into the babysitter's arms when she went to pick him up from day care, and I meant it. 

Now it's time to drink my own water. 

I love my little guy so much and I want what's best for him, always, but what's best for him doesn't always feel good to mommy.  
Hudson loves his babysitter and he has such a strong bond with her.  She really has become part of our family.  I'm thankful for that.  But, this week Hudson cried every time she started to leave, and didn't want to let go of her.  This week was all about Lucia.  When we both went in to get him up from his nap, he walked over to Lucia.  When I tried to give him a kiss, he pushed me away.  When I came out to play with him, he looked at me like I had three eyes and went back to playing with Lucia.  

Rejection sucks, especially when it's your 13-month old baby rejecting you.  I know that he wasn't really rejecting me, and he's just testing out his independence, blah, blah, blah - but it still felt like rejection.  It felt really icky.  I felt like I was going to cry a couple of times.

A really needy, insecure, not-so-attractive side started to shine through.  I felt like I was a 10-year old trying out for the soccer team.  "Pick me, pick me!"  I just wanted to be picked. Oh how I wanted to be picked!  I wanted Hudson to be so excited to play with me that nobody else in the world existed for him. Is this so wrong?  Doesn't every mom want to be number one in their baby's eyes?  After all, he's been number one in my life the past 13 months!  I asked myself these questions and then I convinced myself that I was probably the only self-centered, neurotic mommy who was more concerned with being number one than being excited that he loves his babysitter so much.  (Which of course then made me feel even more self-centered). 

Why does it feel so important to me that I am the most important person in Hudson's life?  What would it mean if he enjoyed other peoples' company as much as he enjoyed mine?  I know; I hear the voice of reason even as I type this.  Just as I shared with my girlfriend, it means that he's a healthy and happy and well-adjusted baby.  My rational brain knows that, but my silly little insecure voice keeps me second-guessing.  

I realize that I was making the experience mean that Hudson loves me less than he loves Lucia, or that I was somehow not giving him enough love, affection or dare I say ... that I am not as much fun as his babysitter.  And why would any of that be so bad, anyway?  Those are the questions I really need to dive into and take a peek at. 

I know that it's all normal and healthy, and just a phase that he's going through as he discovers his new world.  I also learned that it's kinda normal for a new-ish mom to feel a little sad the first time her baby snubs her for the babysitter, and that's okay.  When I started writing this post I felt like I had to somehow apologize for feeling sad this week, but I make no apologies.  

The good news is our experience this week shined the light in some dark corners to show me where my work is. I certainly don't want to be the needy mom whose little boy feels like he always has to be by mommy's side. I learned a lot this week.  Most importantly, I learned that Hudson teaches me just as much about myself as I teach him about the world. Perhaps even more.  

It's been one hell-of-a crazy week! I've had a lot of major changes this past week, both professionally and personally. And I haven't had time to blog about it. Any of it. I've stepped outside of my comfort zone, and I've realized that my experiences are never as anxiety-producing as I expect them to be. 

I got a new job last week. I have an employer and a boss.  After leaving my old firm almost four years ago I didn’t think I would ever have another boss or another employer, other than myself, but … I also have a paycheck and for that I am grateful. A paycheck gives me the freedom to do more of what I love – spending time with Hudson and coaching new moms!  I couldn’t have created a more perfect “job”. I get to work from home, three days a week.  Yep, in my pjs!  And they pay me to do it. And, I've actually really enjoyed the work this past week. 

At first the thought of getting a job felt very shackles-on. It felt like I was letting myself down, after all, I told myself that I was “done” with jobs and bosses and employers. How could I go backwards and take another job after being self-employed? What would people think? 

Then I changed my thoughts. I realized that when I attach to my stories of what it means to have a job, and remain unwilling to question whether they are true, it’s my stubborn thoughts that cause me to go backwards, not the job.  It's always my thoughts about a circumstance that get me into a tangled mess.  

I also had my first overnight away from Hudson. Yes, I know, he's one-year-old, but the first night away was scary. Or at least I told myself that it would be. That it should be. I cried at the airport and didn't want to walk away from him. I just wanted to squeeze him and sneak him into my carry-on.  (At 26 pounds, he's sort of hard to sneak anywhere.)  I made it through security, mascara running down my cheek, but I was okay. I didn't have much time as I raced to the gate, stopping only to grab a couple of trash mags and a Starbucks. 

Once I was on my flight to Virginia (for the new job) I had some liquid confidence that helped me relax and enjoy my time without baby. I had to admit, it was kinda nice getting on a flight without schlepping all of the baby gear through security.  And it was kinda nice being able to sit quietly in my seat, drink my glass of wine and not worry that Hudson was too loud or ready to get down and cruise the aisle. 

Unfortunately, my 36 hour trip away landed me in Virginia at 2am and I had to be in the office by 6am, so there was no laying in bed ordering room-service while I watched a few chick-flicks. I was going, going, going non-stop. Which was good, in a way. It occupied my mind and made me forget that I hadn't squeezed Hudson's squishy little cheeks in almost 24 hours! 

My hurried schedule distracted me until I got to the airport and was waiting for my flight home, which was of course delayed (yep, Delta - it never disappoints. It's consistent. It's always delayed). And then about three hours before my flight time I got the dreaded call. The call from Hudson's nanny letting me know that (1) Hudson had a fever of 103.7; and (2) he had been on a milky-strike since the moment I left.  Big sigh.  Okay, I more than sighed, I broke down. I was 2,000+ miles away from my sick baby and another east coast storm had just arrived. Nobody knew if or when our flight would get out. I felt totally helpless and completely out of control. Must. Get. Home. Fast. 

I've noticed that when I feel out of control, I give up even more control. I lose all control of my thoughts and feelings, surrendering up all of it. But, when I start to accept that I don't have control - when I started to accept that I may not be home to kiss Hudson that evening, and I may not be home to see his sparkling morning eyes the next morning, I felt more relaxed about all of it. I was able to take a deep breath and know that everything would be okay.  And, it was. My flight left that night and I was snuggling my little Bug before midnight!  

 

It was 77 degrees and not a cloud in the sky in San Diego yesterday. Another one of our famous "winter" days. Meanwhile, the rest of the country was snowed-in. 

I had a few baby-free hours at the beach, and although I was happy to have some alone time, it was fun seeing all of the families playing with their littles. All except for the family with five kids whose two little boys (4 and 5) were playing with toy guns. One had a rifle and the other had a pistol. The rifle was as long as he was tall. 

Although I'm certain I played western shoot-out as a kid, it really bothered me watching the boys shooting at each other with their guns.  We live in a different world today than we did when I was growing up. 

I get it, boys (and girls) like to play with toy guns. Hudson would like to play with my razor too, but it's my job as a parent to censor what he gets to play with. I am all for imaginative play, but I think there are better things to pretend to do then shooting another human being.  I really can't find any logical reason for giving a child a gun, real or fake. Guns are not for kids. (In my opinion they're not really for most adults either, but we won't go down that road. I know, I just lost a lot of readers with that comment!). 
Especially in today's world where human beings are shooting other human beings so often, shouldn't we be encouraging our children to play with something a little less, uh ... deadly?  I understand that kids will make guns with their hands and likely anything else they can find to make the shape of a gun with.  Fine. But what message do we as parents tell our children when we give them a toy gun?   

I know one day some kids will grow up and own a gun.  Unfortunately, 41% of our kids will also grow up and smoke cigarattes, but does that mean that we give them fake cigarettes? (Remember those horrible candy cigarettes we had growing up that blew out fake smoke. Hm, Phillip Morris behind those??).  I know it may be an extreme analogy, but it's the first thing I thought of.

I had a friendly debate about this with a few friends on Facebook this morning, and I had no idea that one comment would would stir up so much controversy. It was a good, healthy, respectful conversation.  We all have different experiences, perspectives and beliefs. None better than the next. No wrong or right, just different. While I certainly don't worry that Hudson (or my friends' kids) will grow up to use a gun to kill someone, there are many parents who give their littles toy guns who, unfortunately do not "parent". 

Although my friends' contrary arguments were well-reasoned and gave me food-for-thought, I still can't imagine giving Hudson a toy gun.  Regardless of whether he makes his own guns out of paper or whatever else he gets his hands on. I'm totally willing to change my opinion (and thus to listen to all of YOUR contrary arguments), and I realize that I can't ever really say never about anything, but as for today, I'm sticking to my guns!  ; )  

Yep, another sappy baby Hudson blog post. Go figure. If you've been following my blog long enough you probably already expected today's post to be all about my little guy and me. 

My baby Hudson isn't so much of a "baby" anymore. Today at 5:20 p.m. he will be one year old. one. year. old. How did that happen?! I was just in labor. I was just pushing with all of my might. I was just holding my beautiful 7 pound, 12 ounce baby boy in my arms for the very first time. Just yesterday he cooed for the first time. Just yesterday he held up his own fragile little head for the first time. Just yesterday he sat up alone, and hopped across the floor on his belly. Just yesterday. Or at least it felt like it was just yesterday. 

The year has flown by. My "little little" is now a "big little".  I've watched him become a little boy, and such a charming little boy if I don't say so myself. 

This past year has truly been, as cliche' as it sounds, the very best year of my life. Without question, t-h-e best year.  It hasn't always been easy, nor has it always been joyful, but it has been perfect just exactly as is. 

I have grown so much not only as a mother, but as a person. As a woman. Being a first-time mommy has shown me where my "edge" is. I've learned just how little sleep I can actually survive on.  (Hopefully year two brings more sleep!)  And I do mean survive, because in the beginning that is what it was all about. Days, weeks are a blur. I remember snuggling with Hudson day-in-and-day-out for what seemed like months, though I'm certain it was likely only weeks. Maybe even days.

The biggest lesson I have learned this past year is that everything is temporary. It really is. For good and bad. Just when I thought Hudson was in a predictable routine, another milestone approached and the routine went bye-bye. And likewise, just about the time I thought I had no energy left for waking up every couple of hours, Hudson started sleeping six hours at a time. And then eight. And then ten ... It's all temporary. It gets easier and easier, just like everyone said that it would.

Another important lesson that I learned was that I am Hudson's parent, and although I'm new at this parenting stuff, I still know what's best for my baby. When Hudson was a newborn, Jamie and I struggled with making decisions for fear that we might make the wrong decision. As if there is ever truly a wrong or right decision anyway. I remember one of his friend's giving us the most sound advice when we asked him to make a decision for us. He told Jamie that part of parenting is making the tough decisions for our son and that we are the only people who know what's best for Hudson. That has really resonated with me over the past year as I've faced decision-making. It has been very empowering knowing (and I mean really knowing, believing) that I have all of the answers. I may fumble along the way, but I do the best that I know how.

This past year Hudson has learned how to roll over, crawl, walk, talk, giggle, snap his fingers, clap, wave, play peek-a-boo, give mommy raspberries, feed himself and give the best sloppy wet kisses you've ever had.  And he has six adorable pearly-whites. He's made snow-angels, body-sledded down a little mountain and he's been to Portland, Atlanta, Chicago and Hawaii.  We've had quite the active year and it's been an absolute ball. He really is my best buddy. 

I still remember the first second I laid eyes on my baby boy, as if it was just yesterday. On January 4, 2010, at 5:20 p.m. my whole world changed. Happy 1st Birthday, Hudson. You have no idea how much joy you bring to me each and every day. I love you so very much, and I can't wait to see what this next year has in store for us. 

It's been a while, I know. I've missed you and hopefully you've missed us - Hudson and me! 

I took an important break from blogging over the past few weeks. I spent time with my family and friends and I enjoyed a technology-free Christmas. I unplugged. It was nice. But, I'm ready to jump back in. 

From time-to-time I felt a little anxious.  I created plenty of "shoulds". I should be blogging. I should be reading other people's blogs. I should be capturing Hudson's first Christmas on my blog so that one day he can read about how lovely it was. Thankfully, I didn't listen to those "shoulds" and instead I gave Hudson all that he needed for Christmas - a mommy who was present. And boy was I ever present while he tore through the wrapping of his presents! 

A one-year-old doesn't really care about Santa (other than to tug on his nose and beard). A one-year-old doesn't really care about gifts under the tree, other than to push the box the gifts came in around the house. A one-year-old has no idea that Christmas is anything other than another day surrounded by people smothering him with love. 

Spending the holidays with a one-year-old definitely reminded me what Christmas is really about for me. Spending time with the people I care about the most. I hope you all enjoyed some special time with your most special people. 

Monday was a crappy day. It was a day that a daughter (or son) never expects to happen, but sometimes it just does. It was the day that my Dad decided he no longer wants to be a part of mine and my son's lives. Am I the only one? The only one whose father doesn't want a relationship with his own daughter? After days of sitting with so many mixed emotions I finally decided I would blog about it. 

Yesterday afternoon I was thinking about what I wanted to say and how much of my personal life I wanted to reveal. Would I actually tell the world that my own Dad doesn't want me in his life, or would I just speak about it in vague terms ? Or maybe I can talk about it without revealing that it was my dad who walked away versus some hypothetical family? What was I making it mean about 'me' that my Dad made this choice?

While I was pondering my approach I hopped on to a colleague's blog, and I saw a picture of a father holding his daughter's hand. At first glance I thought it was going to be a post about Amy's husband and their little girl, but once I started reading I realized it was not. As I read the first few sentences, I just about fell out of my chair. She posted it earlier that same morning. "When Your Parent Can't Give You the Love You Deserve." Clearly (and sadly) I am not the only one. 

I couldn't possibly discuss the subject any better than Amy already has, and therefore please visit Amy's post by clicking here.  Her post has given me so many gifts - most of all, perspective and compassion. Bravo to Amy for being so open and telling the truth.   

Today has been one of those days. You know, the days when you don't feel like doing anything and when you do actually sit down to do something you're completely unproductive?! Why is it that on days like today I don't just chalk it up as an off-day and move on? Why do I keep trying to force something that isn't happening?

I remember when I was in law school I had a rule. If I wasn't productive, I wouldn't study. Period. There's no sense in pretending to study just to have face-time in the library. If I'm not productive, I might as well be out enjoying my time. What little time I had. And I did enjoy my time; guilt-free, I might add.

I seem to resist that rule now. I sat in front of my computer for hours today accomplishing absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, Lucia played with Hudson. I could hear them giggling and I was so envious, but I had to "get work done" I kept telling myself. I couldn't take the rest of the day off to do something fun because the nanny was here, getting paid, to watch Hudson so I could work. 

Alas, now it's 7:30 (feels like 10:30!) and I'm left with three loads of clean laundry to fold and put away, a sink full of dishes to wash and put away and a bag full of dirty diapers to run through the wash and dry cycle, fold and put away. And I'm exhausted. I could have done all of this today while Lucia was here, but I was supposed to be "working". As if taking care of my home isn't work. 

I guess what is really weighing me down is feeling like I have to do the laundry or the dishes or the diapers. There's something about the obligation that is making it feel more icky than it really is. 

I have to clean up the house, dishes and diapers before I can crawl into bed. 

Is it true? "Yes." 

Can I absolutely know that it's true? "Yes."

Why might it not be true? I have gone to bed before without cleaning up and the house didn't fall apart, and low and behold, my laundry was still there waiting patiently for me the next morning (how nice of it!). 

How do I act when I think the thought that I have to clean up before going to bed? Pissed off! More exhausted. Completely exhausted. Exhausted beyond belief, which then leads to feeling depressed.

Who would I be without the thought? I would be kinder to myself and accept that I don't always have to have a picked up home. I would feel more relaxed climbing into bed to read a book knowing that there was laundry to be done and dishes to be washed.

Turn it around: 

• I don't have to clean up before I go to bed.
• My thoughts about cleaning up my house need to be cleaned up.

It's always, without exception, my thoughts about my circumstance that are causing me to feel crappy. The stack of dishes aren't making me feel crappy. The pile of clothes isn't making me feel crappy. Only my thoughts have that ability. Dirty dishes and clothes are just circumstances.

When I separate my circumstances from my thoughts I can investigate whether my thoughts about my circumstances are even true. And lucky for me, I can change my thoughts. To better thinking thoughts, even if only slightly better. It still works! 

Now I can go to bed without cleaning up. But, do you want to know the best part? Now that I don't have to clean up, doing so doesn't feel so bad. Maybe I'll compromise - I'll do the dishes and leave the rest for morning. At least I know my laundry will still be patiently waiting for me. I can always count on that! 

We often associate "connecting" with being happy.  We've become a connected society.  Connecting with friends.  Connecting with family.  Connecting through email.  Connecting through texting and instant messenger.  Connecting through Facebook and Twitter and LinkedIn and Words With Friends and Flikr and on and on and on.  But do all of those connections really make us feel happier?  How did we make ourselves happy three years ago or five years ago?  

What about disconnecting?  Do we sometimes need to disconnect to reconnect?

I spent last Friday at Disneyland, and for once, I didn't have access to my phone, email, texting, Facebook or any of the means that I usually use to "connect".  Not by choice, mind you.  My phone died shortly after we arrived.  I panicked at first.  How will I upload pictures to Facebook and show everyone what a great time we are having?  How will I email pictures of Hudson to my friends and family as he's experiencing Disneyland?  Damn it; why didn't I think to charge my phone on the drive up?!  

It was a blessing.  I learned how to reconnect by disconnecting.  

I shared my experience with the four people I was there with, not the 359 "friends" on Facebook.  Although there were thousands of people around us, it felt like it was just the five of us.  These four other people had my undivided attention.  One in particular really had my attention.  :)  I think this was seriously the very best day of Hudson's almost 11-month life.  He went berserk over It's A Small World and meeting Goofy.  And I went berserk over watching him go berserk.  

I've never seen so much excitement as I saw in Hudson as we went through Small World.  It occurred to me that we adults rarely allow ourselves to go berserk with excitement.  I wonder why that is?  I know for me, I rarely disconnect and live in that very present moment.  That one moment, not the one that just passed or the one that is about to pass, but that one tiny tiny moment in time.  You blink and it's gone.  On to the next moment.  

There's nothing like spending time with a child to rediscover that child-like playfulness in each of us.  Children don't think about what they're going to do in the future or what happened in the past, they have fun because they enjoy what they're doing. in. the. moment.  Slow down and enjoy the moment.  Don't even think about enjoying it, just do it.  It may take some re-mapping of your brainwaves to unlearn how to be so serious and re-learn how to have fun, but if you enjoy the beauty of that very moment, it won't take long.  

I'm going to go back to implementing Selfish Sundays.  For that one day, I pledge to disconnect.  I pledge to use my phone only when coordinate getting together with someone.  I pledge not to use my phone to email, text, Facebook or Tweet.  What are you willing to do to disconnect in order to reconnect??  

I am thankful for so many things today, as we all are.  I am thankful for my beautiful baby boy; for enriching my life in more ways than I could have ever imagined. For giving me the best year of my life and many more to come. I am thankful for his health and for the health of my family and friends. I am thankful to be spending Thanksgiving with family and friends, and I am thankful that the rest of my family is spending Thanksgiving together in Oregon.  I am thankful for all of the wonderful people who I have in my life. For old friends and new.  

Reflecting on the many things I am thankful for makes me also think of those who are struggling in one way or another.  So many people have lost their jobs, have lost loved ones or are fighting for their own lives and health.  That doesn't make them better or worse, but they may have a different perspective.  I want to recognize a few special little people who, with smiles on their faces, are fighting for their lives.  Their strength is unfathomable and so admirable. They are brave, and full of love.  

A few days ago a fellow blogger, Minivan Mama  blogged about an incredible organization, 'Make Someone Smile'.  Every Monday she makes it her mission to do a good deed and this past Monday was no different.  

For the cost of a card and stamp we can all make a child smile. There are currently three beautiful children featured on the website who need our love and support. What they really need is a card to make them smile.  That's it - we can all do that, right?! (Of course, if you want to do more than give a card, I'm sure their families would be grateful for that too!)  

Emalee (in the photo above) is three years old.  Literally overnight she developed two golf-ball sized bumps above her eyes.  From that day forward her family's life as they knew it has been forever changed.  

"... After hours of waiting and not knowing what was wrong, a CT scan showed they were some type of tumors and she was immediately taken to another hospital for further testing. We were then told after many hours and tests later, that Emalee had cancer, which was Stage 4 High Risk Neuroblastoma. It apparently started as a large tumor in her abdomen and had already spread to her knee, clavicle, bone marrow and head."  

Addison is six years old.  

"Two days after Easter 2010, he had a fever of 102.5 accompanied by severe jaw pain. We took him to the pediatrician where they ran a blood test. The phone call that followed a couple hours later, was one that turned our world upside down. All I remember was the doctor saying, 'Sarah, we have to talk. It's not good. Addison has Leukemia'."

Aiden is four years old.

"We first noticed a major sign that 'something wasn't right' with Aiden on the actual day of his diagnosis, April 17th of 2010. He woke up from his nap with severe stomach pain and couldn't even move off of the couch .... so he had to take Aiden to the ER at the hospital down the street. They did blood work and thought that maybe he had appendicitis.  The blood work came back ... The doctors assured me that his condition was indeed cancerous and that there was definitely no mistake- he had Leukemia."

While giving thanks on this special day, take five minutes to make a child (or two or three) smile.  
http://www.makeachildsmile.org/

I don't eat meat.  I don't eat turkey.  I don't eat chicken.  I don't eat ham.  (This is starting to sound like a Dr. Seuss book.)  I very occasionally eat bacon, but that's not meat; that's bacon.  Bacon is not meat, it's bacon!  

Despite my aversion to meat, I do enjoy the tradition of making Thanksgiving dinner.  I cook a turkey every couple of years.  I'm told they are quite delicious.  

I usually buy a fresh turkey, but this year I got sucked into buying a frozen turkey from my favorite grocer, Trader Joe's. 

10:40 p.m. last night. I was laying in bed running through everything I need to do to make tomorrow go as smoothly as possible.  The turkey is already brined. Do I have a big enough roasting pot? I think so. Do I have a thermometer?  No, but I know who does.
I need to calibrate my oven; it's a little off.  What time do I need to put the turkey in the oven?  Oh crap!  I suddenly recalled that it takes days to thaw out a turkey.  I quickly conferred with my reliable friend, google, who told me that my turkey will take 2-3 days to thaw out.  I jumped out of bed and threw the bird into the refrigerator.  

8:43 a.m.  this morning.  Checked the turkey.  Still hard as a rock.  Make that a boulder.  As hard as a boulder.  Quick, get back in touch with google. How do I thaw the bird today.  safely.  ?  Okay, ice the bird at room temperature, changing the water every 30 minutes.  Be careful that there are no tears in the bag.  Make sure the bird stays cold.  Make sure you change the water every. thirty. minutes.  I cannot spend all day changing the bird's water every thirty minutes!  I have things to do.  Important things to do. 

9:03 a.m.  Called Trader Joe's. Explained that I need to return my frozen turkey that I bought this past Sunday.  Explained that I forgot it takes days to thaw a turkey.  I apologized, and explained that I need to return it so that I can go elsewhere to buy a fresh bird. The gentleman on the phone told me that they only have fresh turkeys, but in any event, I was welcome to bring my bird back.  I bought the bird at a different TJ's, they must have different turkeys.

9:22 a.m.  Drove to Trader Joe's with my bird.  We walked up to the manager, my bird and I, and I explained my predicament.  "I'm so sorry, but I  bought a frozen bird and I neglected to take it out of the freezer in time.  I would like to return the bird so I can go somewhere else where I can buy a fresh bird."  

9:23 a.m.  TJ's manager politely explained to me, without making me feel like a complete idiot, that my bird was fresh.  I took a fresh bird and plunked it in the freezer!  He graciously agreed to exchange the bird.  All of the birds were bigger than my original bird.  Not by much, but enough to cost a little more.  No problem.  Except that in my moment of panic, I left the house without my wallet.  No problem, he said.  I left with a bird. A fresh, brined bird. A fresh, brined bird is now sitting in my refrigerator.  

Thank you, Trader Joe's. You're always there for me.