separating water.

{zipper art via pinterest}

Now that I'm not near Rowan during the weekdays, I've taken to bringing him into the shower with me. When he was a baby and S wasn't there, I'd set Rowan outside the shower in his bouncer and sing to him from inside. When Rowan got too big for the bouncer, I could still bring him into the bathroom with me; he'd play for a very short time before starting to swat the water inside the toilet or pull open the shower curtain.

For a while, I finished up my showers by filling the bath and calling for S to bring Rowan to me. Now I just sit the boy down in the tub while I shower. This evening while we were doing just that, it hit me: How exquisite it is that we are so together and yet so apart. Closeness, like reading with your spouse or writing with a friend.

I washed my hair, brushed my teeth, and daydreamed. (I know, I know. I don't take short showers, but I do recycle and do a bunch of other things to reduce waste.) Rowan played with his toys (those attached to his body and not). He clapped the stacking cups together, attempted stacking, squeezed the happy-faced bath fauna, and babble-talked whenever the mood struck. When he looked up at me with his wide eyes, I couldn't stop thinking: You are my little angel.

It's not that I don't still like to take a shower alone every now and again. But I also cherish these quiet moments we share, where we are wholly submerged in the now.

Around this time (12-18 months), babies hit the separation anxiety stage. They're realizing that "mommy and me aren't one. We are separate." It's one of the baby milestones, but I don't think it's happening to Rowan all by himself. I wonder if all moms stumble through the same realization with their babies at some point. We are so together, yet so apart.

Mamas, how did you juggle showering with your infants?

eight months in photos.

We spent a good part of Sunday morning and early afternoon on the couch piecing together a photo history of Rowan's short life. We've been pretty haphazard about taking a monthly photo, but it seems that we've managed to capture his monthly birthday on film. Here he is, month by month, if you're into that stuff.

{you still sleep like this}

{one month}

{two months}

{three months}

{four months}

{five months}

{six months}

{seven months}

{eight monfs. yep, those are milk teef}

Today Rowan turned eight months old. We bought a dwarf orange tree and some succulents to celebrate this crazy fact.

six. months. old.

Rowan is six months old! This happened a few days ago. Today I think he actually swallowed some of those sweet potatoes that I've been attempting to spoon into his mouth. He's starting to look like less of a baby and more like a little boy. It's hard to believe that this is all true.

What's your true thing today?

a post-partum evening.

Last night S was going to be back late after being away for a few days. R has been needing more care lately. I think he might be teething; he's fussy, not sleeping, nursing all night--and yesterday--suddenly a runny nose. (People always ask if he's drooling a lot and eating his fist, but he's always done both of those things to slurpy cute excess.)

After an hour or so of putting pookers to sleep, I got the idea to open the bottle of wine S + I bought when we went wine tasting at the river last week. Wine is always better if you let it breathe, especially if it's good California winery-bought wine with an Italian name. I was lighting candles when I thought I should cut up some apple and pear and cheese and crackers to go along with the wine. Of course olives would look good in the middle of the food plate. I set all this up like an art project on our massive table. Then I artfully numbered the installations with folded post-its. 

This is the nicest thing I've done for S in a long time. (Though, I guess I did recently spend a day framing photos around the house and creating a family-photo wall for Father's Day.)

{the photo wall: I like the top right photo, because you can hear me smiling}

I figure it's time for us to be close again. It's like having a baby separated us a little. I have to admit I was one of those people who thought nothing would ever come between us; our relationship would be the same even after the baby.

Fast forward to reality: We literally have a little kicking Rowan sleeping between us and thwacking our faces every night. I hear it's really common for a couple's state of normalcy to take a while to return post-baby. Of course, what was normal before never returns after the baby ingredient is introduced. It's a journey; it's a tango. And so we adapt.

By the time S got home, I had already had to nurse R back to sleep three times. His little nose was stuffed  the last time, so I just brought him out to the rocking chair with me. We cuddled, and he fell asleep just in time for S' knock on the door. Oh, reality.

I would love to have a picture of all this, but that didn't work out. So here are my new favorite pictures of the boys.

{quartet at the monterey bay aquarium}

Eventually R sung his baby dinosaur noises on his way to sleep in the swing with his dad's hand on his belly. We poured the wine, toasted, snacked on apples, and retreated to the other side of the room with our wine glasses to sit on the floor and listen to quiet piano sonatas.

What's the nicest simple thing you've done for someone you love lately?

motherhood is...

{gettin' a massage}

Seeing old pictures of yourself looking cute at your baby's age, and thinking: 

My baby is waaayaaaaayaaaaaay cuter. (Even in bad light.)

Don't worry, you guys. I won't always write posts like this! 

going back to work after having a baby.

As I left the house yesterday morning, sniffling, I thought I might vomit. Driving south on the freeway, I wondered What the hell? I won't even be leaving R for that long? He'd been flat out refusing the bottle every time his dad tried to feed him. So, I did worry about him eating. But mostly I was just sad. 


I wondered if there was more to it than mere baby-momma separation anxiety. I'm also back in the States, commuting the 880 super ghetto highway to my former career, impermanently. Kind of like going back to a life you once ran away from. Maybe it was just first-day jitters. Or a big fat all of the above. 

{daisies}

Pretty soon, I was navigating that ancient ant maze of my life like a pro. Before nightfall, I was washing Rowan's neck (not an easy task with all those rolls!), as he stamped his foot like old toro, splashing in the warm water of his bath. We made it. 


Thank you so much for your sympathetic, loving comments yesterday. Boy, are you ever a helpful dose to the day!