The Life Blues

I'm sitting here at work, next to the big window-doors leading onto the back balcony and everything's covered in snow.  Both my babies are sleeping (even though the bigger one can hardly be called a baby anymore.)  Kung Fu Panda 2 is playing in the background and I don't know why I haven't turned it off already.  I've been a little depressed.  I don't know why.  Probably it's a combination of things: lack of sleep, the setting in of Winter, postpartum hormones.  Actually my period just came back today for the first time in over a year without any warning, so I suspect that has something to do with it.  (So no, mom, I'm not pregnant again!)

I've danced with depression before and this hasn't been too bad, compared to other depressions.  I'm sure none of my depressions have been too bad compared to some other people's.  But I've been taking it slow, trying not to worry it too much.  Trying to coax it softly to see what it's all about.  I'm not usually a high-energy person anyway, and lately I'm even less so.  That part I can confidently attribute to lack of sleep.  All I want to do is curl up in blankets and watch all kinds of movies and eat things that aren't good for me.  Like cookies?  Hello.  Being at work is hard, even though it seems like it shouldn't be.  I do get to be in a comfortable house all day; I don't have to be on my feet or be in front of a desk doing not-fun computer things, like some of you.  But it's not my home.  It's not my food or my couch or my smells.  It's not James' crib or his toys.  It's not our neighborhood and our backyard.  I so envy you stay-at-home-moms.  Even though I know staying at home would come with it's own set of monotony and things to complain about, I can't help but want it.

Wishing for what you don't currently have is such a trap, isn't it?  Right now I also wish it were Summer; that we could go outside and be warm, and take ourselves to the park and stretch out on blankets in the shade in balmy blissfulness.  That sounds nice.  But it's easy to forget that Summer actually gets really, really hot, and while stretching out in the shade is nice, it can be so tiring loading everything and everyone into the car, and waiting for the A/C to get going.  And heavy, squirmy babies get even heavier and squirmier when you're already hot and sweaty and want to strip off all your clothes and jump into any and all bodies of water you pass, including the gutters full of sprinkler water right in front of your neighbors.  (I haven't done this, and I probably won't.  Don't worry.)

So I'm trying to practice being grateful for what I have, right here, right now.  Even though it's hard.  Even though the depressed, weepy, sullen side of me wants to take James and go home and sit in the warm bathtub and cry and feed myself a whole batch of my mom's amazing gingersnaps until I bloat and fall asleep.  Fortunately I have a moderately healthy awareness of societal norms to prevent me from doing that, but still.

Instead, soon I'll hear my sweet boy crying for me when he wakes up from his nap in the pack-and-play in the basement, and I'll go save him from the torture of involuntarily trying to crawl in his sleep.  And I'll kiss his sweet squishy face and hold his sweet squishy hands and brush his crazy hair out of his eyes.  And with him in my arms it will be easier to remember why it's just too ridiculous to be unhappy.

James at 4/5 months

Not four-fifths.  You know what I mean.

For the record, I'm a little sad at these.  Partly because the lighting in my room - where I've been taking all these - hasn't been good lately, which is honestly part of the reason why I had been putting off the 4 month photoshoot.  I think it's the position of the sun changing?  Or it's in my head, in which case I must have a really powerful head because I took these at the same time of day I'd been taking the other ones, and it's not overcast or anything, and these pictures are all dark dark dark.  And blurry.  SO FRUSTRATED WITH THE BLURRINESS.  Is it my lens, or is it me?  Hennyway.  The other reason I'm less than thrilled about this installment is because neither of us were really in the mood.  We were being silly and haphazard and particularly unprofessional.  Whatevs, we got them done and I still think he's cute.  So now let me introduce you to my son at 5 months old.

In this household we are entering the Age of the Feet because James found out he has them. 

They are remarkably satisfying to grab.

We are also continuing in the Age of the Chubby.  Poor guy wears the same shorts almost every day because all the pants I've been buying him are just too tight.  We're talking 9-month size!  We usually shop at Carter's because I always thought their clothes were cute, but I'm finding out they're made for the skinny kids, which this kid is not.  So if anyone knows of a chub-friendly clothing line, do let us know.

 James is also a happy boy, who is discovering more and more every day about how much fun giggling is.  

(Maybe some other photographer would move her boppy out of the background, but not this one.  Actually, I kind of like seeing bits and pieces of our regular life sneaking in; things I want to remember.)

(He was just about to sneeze.)

I don't know what he's doing here...

...or here, but he kept doing it.  Practicing his baby seal impression?

I consider this a definite outtake, but I just love that expression of unabashed joy.

These last two are my favorites from the whole set.  I think our new old duvet cover helps.

Sweet baby James makes our days shine.  I feel like a lucky girl, getting to spend my days with this boy and his daddy.  Before he was born, I was worried about how our life would change.  I was worried that I'd hate the change, that I'd hate the binkies everywhere, the baby smell, the constant caretaking, etc.  But I can say without hesitation that I've loved every minute of it.  Granted, I do have an easy baby and a good setup, so maybe it's no big deal that I love it.  But I feel that even if things changed and suddenly got really hard, I'd still love it.  I love every second of him.

My only complaint is that he grows too fast!   Some days I look at his face and I hardly recognize him.  I have to remind myself that he is an evolving person and not to get too comfortable with any one stage because it's all temporary.  I have to remind myself that James (and all of us, really) is not any one moment, but a never-ending collection of moments.  It's easy to assume things are what we see in a snapshot, but people are not that.  We move and grow and change.  My baby is not a baby, he's an eternal soul who happens to be in baby form right now.  It's hard for me to want to grasp the concept sometimes.  It's easy to want to make things hold still.

But we all just keep shufflin'.  

Here's one, two, and three.

A POSITIVE THINKER IS YOU

I've been thinking lately about good attitudes and staying positive and just how are you supposed to do that.  Not that I've been down or sad - I haven't.  But there are lots of opportunities to get anxious about things and, having a history of anxiety and depression, I want to do all I can to avoid as many of them as I can.  And I'd like to keep doing it on my own, without medication.  Not that there's anything wrong with medication.  I've used it and it's helped me.  But it's been a good long while that I've been anxiety/depression-free without it and I'd like to stay that way, if I'm able.  I'm a little concerned about post-partum blues, but so far things have been good.

Anyway, I believe in the power of positive thinking.  I believe if you tell yourself you're pretty, you'll feel prettier.  And if you tell yourself you're strong, you'll be stronger.  And if you tell yourself you're stupid or mean or ugly or that it's going to be a bad day, you're shooting yourself in your proverbial kneecaps.  A lot of the time, life is what you make of it.  (Don't worry, the cliches don't stop there.)  But don't you agree?  When I get to thinking about how I'd like this or that about my life to be different (I wish I had curly hair, I wish I was more outgoing, I wish I could be a stay-at-home mom) and feel that silly self-pitying sadness slip its hand in mine, then I think about other people.  Everybody knows that other people aren't living their definition of perfect lives either (if you didn't, you do now).  We know everyone struggles with something, big or little things and usually both and almost never neither.  And yet we all mostly manage to be happy, most of the time.  It's a little bit inspiring to know that we are so powerful.  That we can be cheerful and satisfied even when our hair isn't curly when really really wish that it was

And so.  All of that was me trying to say that on Monday I was stressed and anxious about whether or not this baby has turned around, and whether or not he would stay turned around if he has, and how I would like a doctor to not have to cut him out of me, and that yesterday and today I've told myself that I'm not going to worry about it.  And I haven't!  Very much. 

On another note, I am really bad at Valentine's Day.  And Christmas, and birthdays, and any other gift-giving holiday.  Tony is really good at all of those.  Yesterday he surprised me with these earrings and a box of chocolate.

And how can I not be happy with an amazing Tonyface I love more than blueberry muffins on a sunny morning?