Category Archives: Mommyhood

Work: It Is A Comin’

I’ve been a pretty lazy blogger over the past couple of weeks. That’s partly because we’ve been uber busy. And that’s partly because I’ve been in a kinda-sorta-funk. I’ve gone from trying to be Super Mom and Super Wife to being pretty unmotivated.

I’m blaming the weather change, mostly. It’s suddenly cold and grey and snowy in Chicago–all parts of winter that I readily and excitedly embrace–and it’s kicked me straight into hibernation mode. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to leave the house. I just want to cuddle up with my baby and a cup of tea and listen to holiday music.

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But I also think that my funk can partly be attributed to the creeping, sneaky dread of having to go back to work full-time, leaving Finn in a yet-to-be-solidified childcare situation for four days a week.

My bemoaning going to back to work is more of a surprise to me than anyone. Don’t get me wrong: I love my son. Yet, I was the first to tell everyone how happy I’d be to return to work. How I wasn’t cut out to be a full-time mom. How I needed to have a life outside of the house and Finn and endless piles of diapers.

I was THAT PERSON–maybe a little self-righteously so–who swore she “couldn’t take” this stay at home mommy thing forever.

And I still don’t think I could do it. I need some kind of intellectual stimulation beyond being a momma. I need other creative and social outlets. When I’ve been with the students in my one-night-a-week class this semester, it has been a reprieve. When I’m in that room with them, I do feel like I can access an important part of myself that I can’t access when I’m at home, and I’ve really enjoyed the oasis that the classroom has always provided me.

But when that class is over–like the very second I step out of the classroom–I’m checked out. I’m back in momma mode, and it’s a miracle if I find a single second for the rest of the week when I am tuned back in to my professional responsibilities. And that’s just real talk.

So, I knew the transition back to work was going to be tough, come January, but I didn’t anticipate such an emotional hurdle. Last week, I chaperoned a group of students to an all-day writing conference. It was the longest I’ve been away from Finn in weeks.

The night before the conference, Sona was holding Finn, and I looked to their side of the couch to find that he was staring at me with this wide-eyed wander. He was looking at me like he was thinking, “That’s my Momma! And I love her SOOOO much!” It’s a look that slays me every. single.time.

I took him, gave him a big hug, and started to sob. I don’t even know why I was crying. Probably because I think he’s finally started to actively show excitement at my presence. Probably because I’m just a overly sentimental mush. But mostly, it was because I’m realizing that my days at home with him are numbered. It’s like I can see a grey cloud of doom slowly rolling in, and all of my interactions with Finn are now colored by its presence.

I know how melodramatic that sounds, trust me. But that’s also how melodramatic it feels. Trust me on that, too.

The worst part is that–like so many aspects of this parenting thing–I never saw it coming. I knew I’d be sad, sure, but I didn’t know I’d feel this.

Ultimately, I know it’s better for me, and for our family, and for Finn. I know I have a purpose outside of the house, too, and I know that my time with Finn has been sweetened by the fact that it’s temporary.

But I also get it, now. I get all of the FB posts from my mommy friends, lamenting their return to work. I’ll admit, I used to–kind of harshly–judge them. I used to secretly think, “Suck it up!”

Now, with the tables turned, I get it. I’ll be the blubbering mess, come January. And probably a lot of days leading up to then, too.

It’s Our Insemination-versary!

One year ago today, we walked into our doctor’s office, thinking the timing was totally off, and we made Finn. You can read all about the process, here.

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It was our second attempt and our second donor. The first donor we chose ran out of “stock” before we had a chance to buy more. And THANK GOODNESS he did. I like to believe that everything works out exactly the way it is meant to. That is, I like to believe that we were always supposed to have Finn–not any other baby by any other donor.

So, thank you, first dude, for not giving a larger–err, donation.

November 18th was the day we made our son. It was also the last day–probably of our entire lives–that we didn’t fret about him, worry about his well-being.

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I look at this photo, now, and think about all of the things I’d tell these two soon-to-be-mommies. In a lot of ways, we were SO clueless.

But mostly, I would just tell them that they are doing the right thing. That the timing, as it turned out, was perfect. And that they couldn’t–not in a million years–imagine the love that was about to bloom.

 

 

An Ode to Date Night (And Why Our Marriage Depends On It)

A couple of weeks ago, when my mom was visiting, Sona and I had our first date night since Finn was born. We’d gone nearly 2.5 months without having an evening to ourselves–without ever leaving our son.

Needless to say, it was time.

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Not only was date night an excuse to spend quality time together, doing something other than changing diapers, but it was also a reason to actually wash our hair, put on a little make-up, and make more than the minimal effort to look, well, approachable and mildly socialized.

Everyone warned that we’d spend the whole night talking–and fretting–about Finn, but we have a dirty little secret: we didn’t. I mean, he came up a couple of times, sure, but we spent most of the dinner talking about non-baby things just like we would have BF (Before Finn). It was the best time I’ve had with Sona in a long, long while. It felt special in a way that our pre-baby date nights hadn’t. Maybe that was because we needed it so badly. Maybe that was because we recognized what a rarity dates nights will be, now. Maybe that was because Sona had her first drink of alcohol in nearly a year.

Either way, we had a fabulous time.

But things haven’t been completely fabulous in the relationship department lately, if we’re being honest. And that’s the whole point of this blog thing, right? Honestly. Or something like it. I know that, when reading other blogs, the ones I feel the most connected to are the ones were the writers–the humans behind the screen–admit their flaws and own up to their imperfections. I’ve thought a lot about this, lately–about resisting the urge to create a perfectly curated life for the internets. About authenticity.

And the other evening, while Sona and I were on date night #2, we had to acknowledge something: the image we craft online–via this blog and our various social media accounts–isn’t always completely truthful. It’s not that we’ve actively tried to lie about our lives, it’s just that the Instagram version of our family isn’t always fully representative of who we are.

So, here’s the truth: tending to a marriage after a baby is difficult, and we’ve been struggling a bit.

BF I worried a lot about how the dynamic between Sona and I would change. I’ve written a bit about that, before. I worried that I’d be jealous of how much attention–and love–she gave him. (I’m ashamed to admit that, but it is the truth.) I worried that we’d interact with each other differently after the baby. I worried that our home wouldn’t be the sacred space it’d always been for the two of us.

All of those concerns were for naught. None of that happened, luckily. Finn became a part of our family so easily and so completely.

But here’s what I should have worried about: time. There just isn’t enough of it–not nearly. Most days, it’s everything we can do just to keep up with our professional responsibilities, keep our home in some kind of working order, and take care of Finn. Even then, things fall through the cracks pretty regularly.

In an attempt to balance those things, we’ve forgotten about our relationship. It wasn’t deliberate, but our marriage just hasn’t been a priority. How could it be?! We barely get the dishes done, the emails written, the baby bathed… well, you get the idea.

We’ve focused so much on keeping everything else together; we’ve forgotten that we have to keep ourselves together. It’s a trap a lot of new parents fall into, I’m sure. Our therapist has warned us about how many marriages end within the first two years of having a baby, and it’s not hard to see why.

Time, of course, is the biggest culprit. There just isn’t any of it. Now that Sona has returned to working full-time, getting up at 4:30 every morning, the evenings are a non-stop sprint to get things done. She gets home, exhausted, and immediately has to pump. We have to clean bottles. Make bottles. Make dinner. Clean up from dinner. Take care of random household chores. Oh, and did I mention that there’s a baby that requires a bit of attention? Weekday evenings are tough and, when we’re lucky, Finn goes to sleep about 5 minutes before Sona falls asleep. Alone time? Pfffffffft. What’s that?!

I can’t remember the last time we got a chance to cuddle on the couch–or in bed–without a baby. Or without being so tired that we both had drool pooling on the pillow before the lights were even out.

And exhaustion is another culprit. I’m lucky enough to get a good bit of sleep, as Finn is still sleeping 10-12 hours each night. Sona isn’t so lucky, though. She’s experiencing what we’ll both be experiencing come next semester: you go to work during the day, and then you come home to work at night.

And even if I feel well-rested, I’m usually pretty stressed out. I’m still trying to figure out how to do it all: the teaching career, the photography business, the blog (which is, right now, the only creative outlet that’s just for me), the baby. THE WIFE.

Between the exhaustion and the stress, Sona and I aren’t always giving each other the best side of ourselves. In fact, we’re usually giving each other the worst. We tend to everything around us–neurotically and obsessively–and then we save the leftovers for our marriage.

Lately, there hasn’t been much left over.

There’s other stuff, too. Like the fact that having a baby–and thinking hard about how you want to raise that baby–forces you to put every aspect of your lives under a microscope. I’ve been thinking harder about the things I want for Finn–and the things I don’t want for Finn. And I know Sona has, too.

Sometimes, the things we can tolerate for ourselves, we can’t tolerate for our children. And so, there have been lots of conversations about re-prioritizing. De-cluttering. Re-focusing our lives.

All of this amid the new parent identity crisis that rivals tween-hood.

So, we need to do better. We’re starting by making date night a regular thing. We’ve found a sitter we like, and we’ve already got several dates on the calendar–we’re aiming for twice a month!

But we need to do better in between date nights, too. I’m not sure where we should start, but we’ll get there. We’ll get more used to our new routine. Finn’s bedtime will start to scale back. Maybe (hopefully) we’ll get more comfortable with there being dishes in the sink and laundry piled in baskets.

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Finn deserves to have two happy, loving mommies, but he can’t have that unless his mommies are happy, loving wives. We’re going to work on being better at that. We owe it to ourselves–not just to Finn.

(And, of course, I never would have written this without my wife’s permission. “I’m going to blog about our relationship,” is probably the most terrifying thing you can hear.) 😉

If I Made A Mixtape For Finn

Sona still has lots of CD compilations that I burned for her when we were dating. Oh, you youngins don’t remember mixtapes, but they were a thing. Just trust me.

Listening to those songs, even still, make me think of what it was like to be young and silly and stupid and oh-so-smitten. They were our songs, and they will always make me think of her.

I’m starting to collect songs for Finn now, too. I mean, look at this heartthrob. Who wouldn’t make mixtapes for this kid?

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This has happened pretty organically. At least, I haven’t consciously tried to find songs that remind me of him. Still, already, there are a few that I associate with him–all for different reasons.

The first song is Matt Kearney’s Closer to Love.

When Sona and I first thought seriously about having a baby, we were pretty sure we wanted to adopt. I’ve talked about that before.

At that time, we were looking into working with The Cradle–an amazing adoption agency in Evanston, IL. We followed them on Facebook, stalked their website, and read through their forums. Through that, we found a video that a family had made, documenting the first time they met their son at The Cradle. This song played in the background. Sona and I watched it over and over, crying each time. This song became our we-are-going-to-find-our-baby-somehow anthem. And even though, ultimately, we chose a different path, I still hear this song and think about how much we worked to get our Finn. (Also, if I’m being honest, I still very much feel like Sona and I are meant to adopt. One day. In my heart, I know it will happen.)

And, because it’s too good not to share, here’s the adoption story. I dare you to watch it without choking up.

 

The next song is Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey. Don’t judge me.

Don’t worry. This has nothing to do with KimYe’s ridonkulous proposal.

When Sona was pregnant, she often listened to the LDR Pandora station during her commute to and from work. She swears that, whenever a LDR song came on, Finn would start moving around. It became our inside joke: “Finn loves Lana Del Rey.” And he did seem to respond to hearing her music.

So, when he was only a couple weeks old, I started singing this song to him when I was trying to get him to go to sleep. I didn’t really know all the lyrics–and still don’t–but I would hold his tiny little ear up to my mouth, swaying back in forth in our dark bedroom, and I would clumsily sing, “Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will. I know that you will.” He always fell asleep, and, well, it became our thing.

 

The last song I heard by accident. I saw a little boy dancing to it on a segment of a talk show, and I immediately Googled the lyrics, trying to find it.

It is Sleeping at Last by Light.

Honestly, I can’t think of any song that better embodies what it is like to have a new baby. I can’t even listen to this song without completely falling apart, melting into the most sappy, sentimental puddle of overwhelming love for Finn.

Even now, as I’m writing this post, watching Finn nap on the monitor and listening to this song in the background, I’m crying like a–wait for it–baby. SO MANY FEELS.

But really, it’s just perfect. I’ve deliberately shared the video that includes the lyrics. Because, WOAH.

I can’t wait to keep collecting songs–and memories–as Finn grows up. There will be so many, I know, but I’ll always come back to these three. They are what the most special time in our lives sounded like, and if I could spend hours on my bedroom floor, copying them onto a black cassette tape and writing “Finn + Danielle + Sona 4EVA! <3 <3 <3” on the label (with hot pink pens that smell like strawberries, of course), I totally would.

 

Finn’s First Halloween!

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a… gumball machine?

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As it turns out, my first Pinterest-inspired costume-making adventure went off without much of a hitch. Lucky enough, Finn’s first costume required little more than a hot glue gun to construct. So, I felt up to the challenge.

We looked at tons of pre-made infant costumes, but nothing really spoke to us. There’s just not that much variety for a little squish that can’t even sit up, yet. So, rather than spend $50 for Finn to be a sadly misshapen lump of a zebra, we decided to go with something a little easier–and a little more fun.

As soon as I saw this gumball machine costume online, I was sold! It’s basically just a onesie, some pants, and a hat with pompoms glued on, after all. How could I mess it up? Plus, FOOD.

Of course, Finn is still a little too young to go trick-or-treating (can’t wait for the next year, though). This whole costume thing was really only for one purpose, then: photos. We wanted pictures of our little guy in his little costume, and we wanted to be able to say that–even if it served absolutely no purpose at all–we dressed him up for his first Halloween.

And since the only thing we really good do was take photos, we took A LOT of photos.

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Having these photos–and being able to torture/embarass Finn with them when he’s older–is TOTALLY worth a few glue gun burns.

We had a great first Halloween with our little guy. We have a tradition of watching scary movies and binge-eating junk food with a couple of good friends. Finn stayed up with us, this year, and I was a little nervous that we’d have trouble getting through the movies while watching him.

Our little guy was a champ, though! He sat on the couch and hung out with us while we watched movies, and he even went to bed without a peep, all while we were loudly watching Insidious 3 and a party raged upstairs.

All month, I’ve been eyeing our neighborhood’s Facebook page, taking note of all of the Halloween activities offered for kids. Next year, Finn will be able to participate in some of them, and I’m SO excited about it. But I’m not going to wish time away–the trick or treating days will be here soon enough.

Sometimes, Mom, I Don’t Even Brush My Hair

My mom was in town last week, as I mentioned a couple posts back. Finn had a great time with his Mimi, and I was thankful to have another adult around during the week.

My mom has always taken the tough love approach. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when, one afternoon, while we were out running errands, she looked right at me (mildy disgusted) and asked, “Do you even brush your hair?!”

Later, I recounted the conversation on Facebook and made some quip about how I needed to return to my pre-baby beauty routine. The truth is, since Finn was born, I haven’t paid much attention to my appearance.

(We deliberately took these photos on one of the few days when we DID brush our hair. Just because we wanted Finn to know, when he looks back on his baby pictures, that his mommas weren’t completely haggard.)

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I don’t really brush my hair most days, actually. I mean, I comb it when I get out of the shower, but my blow dryer has been seriously neglected ever since Finn came into our lives. And let’s not even talk about make-up. Or any outfit that doesn’t involve Birkenstocks and flannel shirts. (Insert lesbian jokes, here.)

You get the idea.

Partly, this is because Finn and I don’t really do much. We run errands here and there, sure, but we don’t actually go anywhere that warrants my trading in the flannel for something even remotely more stylish. (Can I get a “what, what!” for flannel shirt weather?!)

And partly, this is because, when I’m home with him by myself, it is damn near impossible to get much done. My whole day has become a maze of naps and feeding times. That sounds like a complaint, but it isn’t. It’s just the reality. Finn’s life works on 2-3 hour cycles. He eats, poops, plays, sleeps, and does it all again.

I tackle my daily routine (eating, showering, answering work emails, doing house stuff) with my never-ending to-do list–all while he takes naps. And most of his naps last 45-55 minutes. And I usually only get 2 or 3 of those before Sona gets home.

When I have a big task for the day, like cleaning the house or editing photos or grading student essays, I literally rush to start as soon as he’s in his crib. Then, it’s just a race against the clock–or the baby monitor. Sometimes, like this week (with a wedding to shoot, an engagement session, a blown-out car tire, a dishwasher that died, a Halloween costume to finish–or start), it feels like all I do is rush around non-stop. And it can be exhausting.

I now understand all of those cliched movie plots wherein an overworked mom wants for nothing more than a long, peaceful bubble bath and a glass of wine.

I’ve tried carving out “me time,” when I can. I used to get manicures ones every few months, and now I get them pretty regularly. It’s silly, I know, especially since I have perfectly manicured fingernails and a tangled mess of a head. But it’s been nice to have that hour–every couple of weeks–not to have to even think about getting anything done.

Yesterday, I scheduled an early-morning conference call with an editor for a textbook I’ve co-authored. I deliberately asked everyone to chat early, thinking that Finn would still be sleeping. Of course, halfway through the call, he started squirming.

“I’m sorry,” I told our Oxford editor. “My son is crying and I have to go get him.”

I spent the last half of the conference call, discussing book edits while bottle-feeding–and burping–Finn. I did my best to seem interested in the phone conversation.

Maybe that’s the part of this parenting thing that’s been the toughest to work out–for me and for Sona. (She’s struggling with the never-ending to-do list in her head, too.) The thing is, we just can’t do it all. We could barely do it all before our son was born, and we’re failing miserably, trying to do it all, now.

It’s about finding balance–that thing that we’re all always trying to find. We haven’t found it, yet, if I’m being honest. I think there’s probably a learning curve for new parents, and I’m sure that some semblance of balance will come with time.

Until then, even though we sometimes feel like we’re spinning out of control, we wouldn’t trade in a second of the chaos for time we’ve gotten to spend with Finn. And that’s what I want to work on the most.

Not on having a cleaner house. Not on whittling down the to-do lists, though they are always there, nagging. Just on spending time with our son. CHOOSING Finn.

I haven’t been brushing my hair because I’ve been choosing to spend as much time as possible with our son. When he is awake, and while I’m home with him for what–in the long run–amounts to such a short and precious time, I choose him.

He is my priority–and that’s a lot coming from a gal who is a perfection-obsessed workaholic.

But I want Finn to look back on his childhood and remember that, even if there were dirty dishes in the sink and baskets of unfolded laundry all over the house, we always made time for him. We put him first, above everything else (except maybe Momma’s manicures).

We have to keep reminding ourselves, as parents, that most of the things we spend time worrying about don’t really matter at all. The best thing Sona and I have to give is our time, and how we choose to spend it is, after all, a CHOICE.

I choose Finn. And I’ll choose him again and again and again, without any regrets.

 

 

Mornings with Finn

I’ve made no bones about the fact that late evenings with Finn are–trying. It’s the end of the day, we’re all tired, Sona and I desperately want alone time, and he resists sleep with all of his might.

Mornings with him, though, are THE MOST.

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Currently, I’m lucky enough to be home with Finn all week long. So, at least five days a week, I’m the one who wakes him up and walks him through his morning routine. I try very hard to let Sona do this on the weekends. Since it’s the time of day when Finn is his happiest, I really want her to get the chance to experience that time with him. Sometimes, by the time she gets home in the early evening, he’s starting to get a little funky.

But in the mornings, he’s the cutest darn thing you’ve ever seen.

Finn still wakes up each morning between 7:00-8:00. Since he’s been asleep for 9-10 hours at that point, he is usually hungry. At that time, I go in, quietly unswaddle him, and feed him a 4 ounce bottle in the rocking chair. I don’t turn on any lights, and I don’t turn off the sound machine. So, for both of us, it’s restful, quiet time.

He downs the bottle pretty quickly–usually in just 10 minutes or so. Then, I burp him, change him, and put him back in his crib. I swaddle him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s smiling and doing his best to engage me, and I walk away. Within 10-15 minutes, he’s asleep, again. So far, he’s never, ever cried during this time. I think he knows he’s not done sleeping, yet.

Then, he wakes for the day at around 10:30. His morning wake times are like clockwork, and he rarely deviates more than 10-15 minutes day to day. I get up at this time, too, unless I have a lot to do that day, in which case I stay awake at 7:00 and get as much done as possible while we sleeps those last few hours. (Let’s be honest: this never really happens.)

He is usually good to play quietly in his crib for the first 10-15 minutes or so after he wakes up. I use that time to make him a bottle–he drinks 6 ounces at that time–go to the bathroom, turn on the TV, and get something to drink.

Then, I go in to wake him up. It’s my favorite time of the day. I turn his lamp on and turn the sound machine down. At that point, he knows something is up and starts looking around for me. As soon as I walk over to the crib and he notices me, he smiles the biggest, most goofy heart-stopping grin. He’s SO happy to see me. (He’s also happy to see anyone else who is willing to rescue him from the prison that is his crib, but I like the believe that he’s particularly happy to see his mommies.)

As I unswaddle his arms (we’re not swaddling them for naps, anymore, just for nighttime sleep), he does the most over-exaggerated stretches.

It’s the most adorable wake-up routine you’ve ever seen. Trust me.

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Finn LOVES when we say “good morning” in an annoyingly high-pitched baby voice. So, of course, we say it a lot.

I take him to the living room, get his bottle out of the warmer, and feed him breakfast on the couch, usually while watching a DVR’d episode of The Chew. (I like it more than he does.)

It takes 15-20 minutes to feed him and burp him during that time, and then we just hangout on the couch for a bit. I appreciate having the time to sit still, and he is usually still waking up. I give him lots of kisses, he stares at various things around the house (right now, it’s the spiders we have on the wall for Halloween), and we text Sona photos so that she doesn’t feel so left out.

When I sense that he’s over the couch time–or when he takes a big poop (which is often, lately)–we go back to the nursery.

I put on the Florence and the Machines Pandora station and put Finn on his changing table–his favorite place in the whole wide world. We listen to music, dance, change his diaper, wash his face, and lotion him up (he’s got pretty dry skin)–all while he’s on his changing pad. Since he seems so happy during this time, I draw the process out. It’s when I get the most smiles, too.

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I think he’d stay there for an hour, if we let him.

Once I’ve put fresh clothes on him, I put him down on his play mat. I still keep the music on, and he loves to watch me dance around him. Right now, he’s really digging Mumford & Sons and Of Monsters and Men.

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He plays on his mat for 10-15 minutes, and then he starts to get tired. His eyes get red, he begins rubbing his face, and he gets a little whiny. So, I slowly turn down the lights, turn off the music, and turn up his sound machine.

When I sense that he’s really sleepy, I pick him up, put him back in his crib, swaddle him (arms out, this time), tell him I love him, and leave the room. He protests for about 60 seconds, and then he drifts off to sleep. That first nap comes on pretty quickly, and it usually lasts an hour.

That’s when I eat breakfast, answer emails, and make bottles for the day.

Of course, I love being with Finn all of the time. But when I go back to work, it’s going to be my mornings with him that I’ll miss the most.

Let Go and Let… Grandparents

Finn is a lucky boy. He’s got several grandparents that are absolutely, positively smitten. One of the most fun parts of parenting him has been watching our parents go all weak in the knees when they are around him. He’s totally got them all wrapped around his itty bitty finger.

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Though, having grandparents around a lot (we’ve had 5 weeks of visitors in Finn’s 10 weeks of life), has its challenges, too. A lot of those challenges have to do with the fact that we’re cramming ourselves, Finn, four rabbits, two cats, and guests into a small, 2-bedroom garden apartment. Since our guest room is now Finn’s nursery–and since he’s now sleeping in his nursery–there’s just not much extra space for visitors.

We’ve got family sleeping on a blow-up mattress in our living room, y’all. It ain’t pretty.

But many of the challenges have resulted from the fact that Sona and I are both, each in our own way, total control freaks. She likes to keep a home in perfect order, and she’s a bit OCD when it comes to cleaning. And I like things to be done my way. Cause, you know, my way is better–right??? (I’m kidding.) (No, I’m not.) (I am, I am.)

Couple my control freaky-ness with my being a Mama Bear and–WHOA.

We both come by our neuroses honestly, as we’ve been pretty independent our whole lives. We’re also pretty independent in our parenting, and, since there’s no better environment for various opinions to breed than when a new baby enters into the equation, it gets tricky. Enter: baby. Enter: EVERYONE’S opinions about EVERYTHING.

As new parents trying to flex our own parenting muscles, Sona and I have really resisted–maybe too much, at times–letting others influence the way we want to raise Finn. We’ve read all of the books, spent hours on online forums, talked to his doctors, and fretted over what was best for him. I know that none of that holds a candle to actually having raised babies before, but our own parenting ways (I refuse to say “philosophy,” here) have evolved significantly–even in just the 2.5 months that Finn has been in our lives.

So, when grandparents have come, wanting to–with the best intentions–take over a bit, it’s been tough. There’s been more than one power struggle about the silliest things: how to change a diaper, what kind of lotion to use, how and when and where Finn should sleep, how and when and where we should sleep, etc. And then, there are the questions: “Are you sure I can’t hold him?” “Why are you letting him cry?” “Is he really hungry already?” “Are you burping him enough?” “Is that sleeping arrangement safe?”

And can we just talk about how often they insist that he is cold? You get the idea.

When you are giving 150% to raising a baby, and you’re exhausted from doing so, it’s sometimes hard not to read the deluge of opinions as criticisms, even when they aren’t meant that way.

And, what’s been even more trying than the suggestions, they want us to just let go and hand him over. Why wouldn’t they? He’s the most adorable squish in all the land, and they don’t see him nearly as often as they would like. Plus, they want to give us a break. They recognize that we’re tired and on edge and in need of some adult time, and they want to help.

But Sona and I have a pretty horrible track record when it comes to letting others, especially our parents, help. We already knew this was something we needed to work on, but that is becoming abundantly more clear with a little one.

So, we’re going to work on it. We’re going to work on letting go–no matter how much every cell is our body is conditioned to hold on to the reigns. It’s a balance, and we need to find it. We want our parents to respect the choices we’ve made for our son, but we also want them to feel like they have an important role in his life.

My mom is here now, visiting from Tennessee. I won’t lie: when she got here yesterday, I was immediately on edge. I wanted to scream: “But he’s MY baby! No–you can’t hold him the entire time that you are here. No–you can’t change his diaper; I’ll do it. No–you cannot put him to bed.”

Maybe I actually did scream some of those things.

Yet, it’s just not good for anyone, and it is especially bad for Finn. The truth is, neither Sona nor myself are very close to our families. We have pretty small circles, and we want Finn’s circle to be larger. We want, very much, for him to be connected to a large web of people who love him. And want what’s best for him. And want to change his diaper–just every now and then.

I’m able to right this blog post right now because my mom is in the back, rocking Finn as we get him ready for bed. I know I’m lucky–and he’s lucky–that she’s here.

Even if I did just tell her to “stop stimulating him.” Hey–baby steps. 🙂