Angel or Devil?

Rather than write about how this angelic face has tested my patience morning and night for the past few days I will remember the delight in her eyes while she pulled weeds in the yard this weekend. I will remember the squeal of laughter when her daddy gave her a bath in the late evening hour. I will remember that every tantrum means a long hug in my lap, her tear stained face pressed against my chest, her small hands stroking my arms, her little chest rising and falling as she calms down in my embrace. Instead of recalling the times I lost the battle against my own patience (news flash, I have none) for the millionth time I will recall all the moments I took a long breath and looked at her frustrated little face asking her to help this mama understand what she needed. Those were the moments I won.

Mothering a willful toddler is tough work. This afternoon, after a nice long nap, she woke with a frown. I rattled off a list of things we could do after a diaper change (aka HELL on Earth, for both of us). All of my suggestions were met with a scowl and a shake of her little chubby face. Finally we settled on a snack, only she didn't want to sit in her chair to eat the snack, she didn't want to share my arms with the makings of a snack, and she didn't want to actually eat the snack. So, I sat down beside her and took her bowl of fruit for myself. I ate her pears, exclaiming how delicious they were, and let her pick each piece out for me to eat. I made some toast, one of her favorite snacks, and smothered it in peanut butter and raspberry jam, a recently discovered treat. By the end of our snack time she had eaten half the pears and one piece of toast. Everything on her terms, this is how our house is run.

I call her my sweetest baby, my darling daughter, my small angel, and she is all of those things. Lately it just takes a little extra time to look beneath the furrowed brow into the eyes of a frustrated baby who just wants to have things go her way. Inside I feel the same way so I can hardly blame her.

Rock-A-Bye

It's been a busy week already for my little Baby Bear and I what with rainy day dance parties, endless snack times, refusing naps and all of that. Tonight, just a short while after I put my tuckered out little one to bed, she woke crying and needing her mama. I rocked her and rocked her in our big wood rocking chair, stroking her soft (perhaps just a little tuna and cheese dinner scented) hair and feeling her sweet baby fingers play with my necklace. Each time I shifted my weight she buried herself deeper into my body, pressing herself closer to me, and we became one as we rocked and rocked. Her long legs wrapped around me, each breath tickled my skin, her fingers doing a sleep dance across my chest and arms. I am grateful in this moment for my soft spacious body to serve as her temporary resting place.

Motherhood? It is heaven. Absolute in every way. The hard minutes of the day just slip away while we rock and all I can remember is that very moment. Did I complain earlier about toys filling every inch of my home? No possible because right now there is an angel in my arms who spreads light and love with her every step.
When the time came for that baby of mine to get back into her own warm and cozy bed she cried to hear my voice whispering to her that I was there and would always protect her. "Mama's here, Mama's here," I sing to her and she curls up, long skinny legs tucked underneath her body, arms cradling her fuzzy pillow, blankie tucked into the soft skin of her neck. I sneak out quietly, off to do this and that around the house, but my mind keeps wandering back to my warm sleeping baby.

{This little finger? It's her binky finger. She flicks it even in her sleep.}

I want to crawl in that little bed with her, whisper in her ear while she sleeps, tell her that I love her more than even seemed possible those years before she was mine. I want to promise her that I don't mind when she wakes every night and I think she is perfect just the way she is. I want to promise her I will always be by her side when she needs me, no matter the reason, no matter the time. I want to kiss her round, pink, cheeks over and over so the feel of them is forever on my lips. I want to remember this feeling all the time so I never take for granted our moments together.

*All sleeping images are from the weeks we spent sick as sick can be in Mama's bed. The last picture? Well, that is just the face I get to see every day.

Give Me Hive!

What an absolutely miserable couple of days! Have you figured out that this is going to be a bit of a bummer post? I'll make sure to say some positive things too, don't worry. I guess that is a positive before I even state the negative! Things can be miserable here at the Angrybear house and yet there are millions of wonderful moments. Even more positive is that I truly do notice them.

On Wednesday night, after my blog post, Baby Bear woke crying. I went into her room and seriously, there are no words to describe the smell. It.was.awful. Gagging I changed her diaper, and pj's, before deciding to let her sleep with us for the rest of the night. The nursery was toxic, I kid you not. I don't know how I noticed but there were hives (like the other night after bath time) on her arm. I pulled her jammies off and they were all over her arms and legs. FREAKING OUT (an action, by me)! The Bear and I went back and forth about taking her to the ER. After a call to our insurance provided after hours over the phone medical thingy we decided that since they seemed to be fading we'd wait until morning. She snuggled in but woke about 20 minutes later and there were bigger hives in all new places. My mama bear heart just couldn't take it so we packed up the car and headed to the ER (at 1 in the morning, yes.)

It was a typical ER visit. Or wait, it was not typical because it was empty and we just walked right in, but the dr. didn't really give us a whole lot of info just said she had an allergic reaction and gave us some meds for the next few days. Thursday I made two frantic calls to our pediatrician and fretted over my baby bear all day. She was fine. Happy, playful, healthy. Just covered in huge hives from head to toe. They would go away only to come back again when a certain part of her body got warm. By bedtime I was exhausted from worrying. She was exhausted from the Benedryl. We crashed together in my bed and slept fitfully all night.

I love love love when she rolls over and wraps her arms around me, or pats around with her eyes closed until she finds my arm to snuggle with. I love feeling her breath on my face. I love waking to see my baby has helped herself to some nursies in her sleep. I won't focus on how I don't love resting my head on my nightstand to sleep because apparently she is just like her daddy and thinks my pillow is much more comfy than her pillow. In fact, my entire side of the bed is better! So, today I'm exhausted. Luckily she woke with no hives. I'm not sure that will last but I enjoyed a stress free, zombified, morning.

When she wakes from her nap I'll pack her in the car and head out to Target for more detergent (I deleted the paragraph the explained a new laundry detergent that probably isn't the culprit but is being replaced just to be safe) and some chocolate pudding. How does chocolate pudding have anything to do with this? Oh yeah, that disgusting medicine that she has to take. The stuff that makes her scream and writhe around as I try desperately to pin her down while forcing her to swallow. By myself, I might add, since I'm feeling depressed about being left alone during all this misery while The Bear is enjoying the calm warmth of Florida on a not so worky work trip. So, I'm buying chocolate pudding to try and trick her into taking it without fuhREAKING out and thus preventing me from feeling like an abusive mother. Maybe I'll eat a few while I'm at it. I don't even know who to feel more sorry for, her or me. Ok, her, obviously. Silver lining? I have had so so so many long snuggles the last two days. With a toddler walking baby those moments are precious.

Tea and Crumpets

Today, after lunch with some girlfriends, Mad and I went to get a little chocolate treat. Oh, wait, did I just admit to slipping on my no sugar rule? Yes, yes I did but it was only a little and mother nature was telling my body I needed it. In the form of cramps and tears. Nuff said.

It was cold, but not too cold, and the streets in the little outdoor shopping plaza were closed off for construction. My arms were full of baby, leftovers from lunch, bag of chocolate, and bulky diaper bag so I set Mad down to walk beside me on her own. She.was.thrilled! She walks all over at home but rarely outside. The park has lots of curbs that cause falls but this, this was just a big empty space, with lots of people and noises and fun new things to explore. Looking down at my daughter I smiled and enjoyed the lazy walk to the car. She squealed at her reflection in the windows, she tested out all the benches, she swung her little arms as she toddled up and down the little streets and sidewalks. In fact, she was so happy walking that she didn't even notice to pull her coat hood off. Point for me!


Last night I had an emotional breakdown and cried and cried. Somewhere in my mind I imagine that a good mother doesn't have to try as hard as I do to be a "good mother". Me, I have to try constantly. I wish it was easy to wake up at the crack of dawn just because I know I get to spend the day with my girl, but it isn't and I usually put off getting out of bed for as long as she'll snuggle quietly with me (thank you Curious George!). I'm sure there are lots of good mothers out there who didn't put off cleaning their bedrooms and bathrooms of toys so they could browse cloth diaper products online. A good mother wouldn't have to focus constantly on how much cleaning they do....and have a cluttered house to show for it. Most women probably cook a whole meal without requiring daddy to entertain the little one. I also would bet that they don't spill the pepper all over the floor and set the fire alarm off on a regular basis. That's just how I do things in this house. Don't be jealous because you don't have to try as hard as I do.

I might not be naturally perfect, but my child is. And I'm telling you, it takes no effort whatsoever to love the hell out of her. Also, I don't think it takes her any effort to be crazy awesome all the time. I mean, she walks around with her shirt pulled up over her round belly tickling herself. That is the definition of crazy awesome. She also roars at strangers in public. That is the alternative definition.

Airing Our Dirty Laundry

This week I finally "officially" packed up all of Baby Bear's 0-3 month clothing items (and a few 3-6 month pants that don't fit her long legs and booty bottom). Whoa boy was it a sad day for me. I have watched her grow. I've been excited to see all the things she can learn. So why am I so shocked??? I miss my tiny little itty bitty baby.



I wish I could go back and smell her newborness just one last time. Hold her tiny little head while she nursed through the night. Snuggle her on my shoulder without having her squirm away from me. Oh how will I ever make it through her life without crying over every new development? I suppose this is being a parent.



Today we folded diapers together. Well. I folded diapers. She stole them from my pile every time I turned my head. Eventually she had the bulk of the laundry on her lap and smiled up at me just as innocent as can be. I put my hands on her face, brought my head down low to touch hers, and kissed her over and over and over again. She loves when I do this. She loves big open mouth kisses especially. I love smelling her sweet scent. I love her. Then we decided that it was a good time to abandon our piles and take a nap together. I love being a mama. Thank you Mr. Bear for letting me spend all my days at home with my baby girl. Our time together is precious. Look at that face? I'm drunk from love. Time to go sleep so I can be close to her.

Wordless Wednesday - Sick Baby Bear

Jumping on the bandwagon.