Life Is Good

The last time I wrote, Grant was a mere 10-weeks old. The last two months has been a blur – a frenzy – a melee – a whirlwind tour of what it’s like to have a child who grows like a weed. We’re slowly filling a bin of clothes that should fit but don’t. We’ve now entered the phase where we’ve stopped referring to the number of weeks and defaulted instead to “Oh, he’s almost five months.” Part of the reason for this is that our son, who won’t actually be five months old for another few days, is bigger than most 8-month-olds.

I wouldn’t classify him as a bruiser yet, but he is a big, big little boy. Weighing in at 18 pounds and measuring out at 28 inches, Grant is a not so surprising product of the Cooper/Keefer families. He has my family’s appetite and Matt’s family’s metabolism. The kid eats like he’s starving – just when you think he couldn’t possibly be hungry again, he’s frantically gulping down another milk bottle or some juice. He’s eating cereal three times a day, and we’re almost through a full rotation of testing about ten new fruits and veggies.

Speaking of fruits and veggies, there is nothing funnier than watching a baby decide he doesn’t like a food. Grant likes everything but bananas and squash. We nearly peed our pants watching him gag and squirm his way through a single spoonful of potatoes. After only a few weeks of eating, Grant mimics chewing his food, then opens his mouth like a baby bird. He reaches for the spoon, follows any utensil, cup or other food-related item, and sucks down bottles like a frat boy bonging beers.

We are also experiencing a pattern of sleep unparalleled to any baby, or adult, we know. Grant sleeps for 8-12 hours through the night, without waking up. He’s not a great day-napper but we’re not complaining! Whether he’s binge eating or on a sleeping spree, it’s clear that our “little” monkey is going to be big and tall like his parents. I know this could all change at the drop of a hat, and we could be dragging ourselves through sleepless nights again but, for now, we’re delighted to see him in such a healthy growth spurt.

[P.S. If you’re interested in seeing a plethora of monkey photos, then you can find some online in a private album. Just go to Flickr, sign in (or sign up), and find me: /:\ Road Warrior /:\. I will add you as “Family,” so you can see the photos.]

In other news, Matt and I are also in a healthy growth spurt…of the personal and professional kind. We are cherishing married life and our comfortable, happy home. I continue to love the work I do with the IJIS Institute, and Matt is loving his work at Accredo. I start back at ASU in January—hopefully, with a renewed sense of dedication and a refreshed outlook on my course. Matt is interviewing for a potential promotion at work. I had my first work trip away from Matt and Grant for three days. It was exhausting and I missed them terribly, but I survived…and so did they.

With a wonderful nanny and loving grandparents who are 15 minutes away, Grant is one blessed little boy. We’ve had a great Halloween and a delightful Thanksgiving. We were able to visit my mom in the hospital after knee replacement surgery. And, we continue to fall in love with Oakmont – frequenting the Oakmont Bakery for treats, walking to Vinyassa yoga at Exhale Yoga Studio, having an awesome holiday parade, and even more awesome neighbors. Since Grant was born, he’s been to Sandy Pond twice for vacation and Ohio twice to visit family. We have friends and family visiting this month; a wedding (read: college reunion) in Texas; and, of course, Christmas to celebrate.

In short:  Life. Is. Good.

When I look at my husband and my child and my home, I sometimes have to blink a few times or pinch myself to make sure it’s real. Even when I say husband or son, I can’t believe how lucky I am. Every day, we wrestle with the same questions I’m sure that some of you also ask—Should we buy a new car? Is our tax return going to be big enough to start a college fund? When are we going to find the time to finish the next round of house projects?—however, we’ve learned that we can’t answer everything right away – that we are only human – that enjoying each other and having fun every day is what’s really important.

Mommy brain is prohibiting me from remembering any more tidbits to cram into this abridged update, so I’ll leave you with this:

Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it.”  --Sai Baba

On Becoming a Parent

This morning, I found our 10-week-old son watching Sesame Street. He wasn’t just intently staring at the screen—believe me, we doubted that he was actually “seeing” it—he was cooing, smiling and kicking his legs, almost laughing. In the blink of an eye, our little monkey is growing up to be a little man. But, before I get ahead of myself, let me go back a bit…

In the Beginning

I wasn’t naïve enough to think that maternity leave would be some sort of fun, easy vacation. There’s no book, website, or any amount of advice from other parents to really prepare you for having a child. Yes, the clothes were washed; the nursery was ready; and, we were anxiously awaiting Grant’s arrival…but we were not ready for it by any stretch of the imagination.

My maternity leave was mostly a blur of sleepless nights and shower-less days, endless nursing and eating post-feeding snacks, drinking gallons of water (although not having to pee every five minutes was a welcome change from pregnancy), and the neverending enigma/dilemma/confusion/frustration that is the learning curve of becoming a parent. The breastfeeding, diaper changing, burping, swaddling, soothing, and other necessities are certainly all big question marks for the first few weeks.

Toward the end of maternity leave, Grant and I went to Sandy Pond with Gram (my mom). Matt and Pap (my dad) joined us for the beginning/ending weekends, and “Uncle” Chris for the whole week in between. Although Grant was too young for the beach, the fresh air and calm surroundings were a welcome change from being chained to the couch in my new role as dairy cow. And, with the Olympics on for the last two weeks of maternity leave, at least I had handball and ping pong and trampoline and obscure boxing matches to watch during 3am feedings.

Slowly, we learned the difference between Grant’s cries—yes, there is a marked difference between “I’m hungry” … “I’m sleepy” … “I’m gassy”—and began to gain some ground, and some confidence, in the new parent marathon. These detective skills, and a newfound notion of what patience really is, would be required tools for the hurdles that lay ahead.

And Then There Was…Work

After exactly six weeks, I returned to work. Fortunately, I was able to take a leave from ASU for the fall semester. We were lucky enough to find an incredible nanny to co-babysit Grant and our neighbor’s 20-month-old son Liam. Our new schedule is pretty hectic but is absolutely ideal for the time being because I can see Grant whenever I want!

I wake up any time after 5am to either nurse Grant or shower and head to my desk. Matt plays the role of Mr. Mom every morning, and watches Grant until Liam and the nanny show up at 9am. I slave away at my desk until 3pm, when I am left with Grant and my own devices until Matt gets home at 8:30pm. During that time, I attempt to relax, try to keep Grant satisfied with ample amounts of food and napping, and cook dinner—which is increasingly difficult to figure out since it has to be a meal that is good/easy for me and still good/easy to warm up for Matt hours later. Matt takes over again after he’s home, changed and fed. And, lately, we’ve been getting up together in the middle of the night – although, fingers crossed, Grant has slept through the night from 6-10 hours straight every night since last Friday (we've learned to never call anything a "pattern" because it always changes).

I’m adding exercise back into my routine starting next week; and, I will resume online teaching for ASU in January. We’re not quite sure how to survive this breakneck speed, but it does seem to get easier every day.

A Delicate Act

One of the things we noticed when I was pregnant was that, often times, people’s stories of parenthood are extremely negative. So we’ve made a conscious effort to always look on the bright side; to enjoy every moment; and, to try to avoid harping on the bad days instead of trumpeting the good ones.

Parenting is: juggling…balancing…harmonizing…conducting…streamlining…multitasking…

Sometimes, when I end my day by doing dishes, making bottles, packing Matt’s lunch, loading the coffee pot, and cleaning the kitchen, I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes, when Grant starts crying the moment our heads hit the pillows, I feel angry. Sometimes I feel like crying, screaming, or running down the street like a madwoman.

But when Grant smiles, chuckles (no full out belly laughs yet), coos, kicks his legs, or stares right through my eyes into my soul, I remember why we chose to have a child. I hesitate to say that I feel complete—there's always room to grow—but it’s no lie to say that my life feels more well-rounded, fulfilled, and joyful. 

I know this is just the start of the long, wonderful story of the Cooper family. But, for now, I feel happier than I’ve ever been simply enjoying the first chapter…

The Mini Cometh

It was a dark and stormy night…

…really though, all Hemingway jokes aside, it was 10pm on a humid, rainy Sunday night. We had just finished watching the women’s gymnastics Olympic trials and were heading to bed. Matt needed to pick a new book to read, so we headed over to the bookshelf in the dining room. I straddled the yoga ball and gently bounced a bit to loosen my tight hips as we browsed titles. After deciding not to choose anything – it didn’t seem sensible to start a new book with a baby on the way – I stood up, took three steps into the living room…and my water broke! For a brief moment, I convinced myself I had merely peed myself; however, I hadn’t laughed or sneezed.

I carefully navigated to our bedroom upstairs, and sat cross-legged on the floor on a towel talking to the doctor on call. After I told him about the yoga ball, he joked about introducing the “Chelsea method” to his patients who wanted to start labor. He instructed me to head to the hospital. I called both of our moms, Matt’s sister, and my bestie Chris to let them know that the Mini would be making an appearance within the next 24 hours. Matt ran next door to give an extra key to our neighbor – resident expert Mom of the block – and I sort of wandered around gathering the last few things for my hospital bag. 

After we finished packing, I realized we would be returning from the hospital to whatever condition we left the house in, and proceeded to tidy up the living room a bit and do the dishes that were in the sink. There was a light, excited energy surrounding us, as the neighbor took “action shots” and we made our way out of the front door.

After securing the car seat base, and loading our baby gear, we were off to the hospital. As many times as I drove to prenatal yoga or we made trips into Oakland, we never could have even created a more perfect journey. Because it was 11pm, there was no traffic and the cover of night was perfectly serene.

Fast forward through all of the boring stuff – parking, checking in at security, waiting in triage, and being wheeled to our labor and delivery room – and, we found ourselves getting ready for the Mini’s arrival. In an attempt to kick start contractions, we did a few dozen laps around the L&D suites and stretched on a yoga ball. We met with my doctor, and he recommended that we both get some sleep. Almost as soon as I settled down in bed, I started to experience some mildly uncomfortable back labor and, of course, didn’t sleep a wink.

At around 4am, the doctor decided to start me on Pitocin. Contractions came on strong and fast. I was calm and quiet and focused on my breathing; however, as the hours went by, my contractions became extremely intense and erratic. Matt and I tried every trick in the book to deal with the physical discomfort – walking (well, shuffling along with the IV pole and stopping every few minutes to “slow dance” through a contraction), using the yoga ball, light massage – though my contractions never balanced out and turned more consistent.

After my year of trials and tribulations leading up to back surgery, and such a quick and complete healing process, I became very emotionally guarded when it came to experiencing pain anywhere near my back. Last fall, I had some issues with back spasms and had nearly debilitating panic attacks when faced with a level of pain that I thought was gone forever. The severity of the Pitocin-induced contractions cause emotional fear and stress too overwhelming to deal with. Although I had hoped for a completely natural birth, I knew it was time for an epidural.

Once the epidural was setup, I need to pass a few tests, one of which was whether my blood pressure would spike. Just as the anesthesiologist said “Let me know if she goes above 90,” my iPod played the Beatles song “In My Life,” my wedding procession song. I burst into tears, as did Matt, my blood pressure spiked, and we had ourselves a funny but deeply touching moment. I had been at 2cm since the previous Friday; however, between 7am and noon, I quickly went from 2 to 3 to 5 to 8…and then it was time to get the show on the road.

After just over an hour of pushing, the Mini arrived. As part of our birth plan, Matt announced the gender to me – “We have a son!” On July 2 at 1:11pm, at 7 pounds 1 ounce and 20.5 inches, Grant Duncan Cooper was born.

Nothing will ever truly prepare you for being a parent – and, trust me, Matt and I read our share of books, listened to more than enough advice, and spent many nights in bed talking about how our lives would change. As I looked down on our son’s face for the first time, it was as if I was completing the final phase of a lifelong transformation -- the cocoon fell away and my heart soared on new wings. Forgive my flowery prose but holding Grant in my arms with Matt at my side was the single most happy and perfect moment in my life.

To be continued...

Dear Mini

Dear Mini:

We’re finally settled into the house: the art is hanging; the big projects are finished; and, we’re learning more and more about the garden and the quirkiness of owning an 83-year-old home. Your bed is clean and comfy. Your room is ready. We still have to figure out a few things, small and large—how to put up the pack and play, what to put in the diaper bag, how our lives will change—but we are as ready as we’ll ever be to welcome you into the family.

I’m calm as a Hindu cow these days. After the turmoil of 2010…the fast-paced sheer joy of 2011 – quitting our jobs, moving across the country, finishing the camp, getting married, starting new jobs, and buying a house…getting pregnant so quickly and easily…it seems the past 37 weeks has alternately gone so fast and crept so slowly by us.

I was never sick or nauseous with you. I didn’t experience so many of the seemingly awful aspects of pregnancy. In fact, I feel healthier carrying you than I have in a very long time. Between working out with my trainer Donna and doing prenatal yoga, I am finally back in tune with my body – no small feat after major back surgery less than two years ago. Of course, these last few weeks are a marathon of sorts—aching knees and hips, restless nights, and all sorts of new changes with you—however, I really can’t complain. I just hope I’m not enjoying a wonderful pregnancy in exchange for a horrifying labor and delivery.

We’ve had so much fun preparing for you, playing music for you, talking to you, feeling you move and grow, listing possible names for you, and just figuring out how to raise you. The day I married your father, I never thought I could ever feel happier. As we get closer and closer to your arrival, I know that you will change everything in a way we could have never imagined.

A friend once told me that having a child makes life turn from black and white to technicolor. I think of that same moment in The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy steps into Oz for the first time…and the rest of the story is a journey full of music and friends and lessons. Now, we are standing at the beginning of our own yellow brick road. Along the way, you’ll meet Dante and Mim, Grandma and Grandpa Cooper, Granny and Pap Keefer, Aunt Teresa, and Uncle Chris.

Something deep inside is telling me that there’s nothing to worry about and that I’ll be a great mom. I also know that your father will be an excellent dad. Together, we promise to show you all the world has to offer and to love you forever. We have built a strong, unshakable foundation for our family – and you’re the next piece! We’re so excited to meet you!

XOXO

Our Radiohead Manifesto

It’s hard to put into words what Radiohead means to Matt and me, but I thought I’d try…

In the Beginning

Our love affair with the band started fairly early for both of us. For me, I was in seventh grade. My science lab partner, Maria—then, Matyjaszewska; now, Mendoski (funny, she was married a day before we just saw Radiohead in DC)—gave me a tape copy of Pablo Honey, which I played out so quickly that the album was one of the first I purchased when I owned my first CD player. After that, Radiohead didn’t have a sophomore slump and obviously didn’t fail to please with OK Computer. For Matt, he cites driving around in his car in high school, listening to classics like “Creep” and “Karma Police,” influenced him to buy The Bends.

For both of us, our college years and the release of Kid A cemented what would become a lifelong love affair with the band. I remember the first time I listened to Kid A (October 2000), I just didn’t “get” it. It was such a huge departure from their “sound,” and an innovative foray into what was not just a complete change in their identity, but a huge step for electronic music as a whole. But, as with many great concepts, the more I listened, the more I heard and absorbed and learned. By Christmastime, I was on the cusp of falling head over heels for the album. That winter break, home from college, my parents were renovating the attic. I stayed in one small room, on a mattress on the floor, with a space heater, a suitcase, and a stereo. Those nights, lying in a quiet, empty corner of the attic, listening to the album over and over and over again, I finally got it. Matt, ever the obsessive music nut himself, got caught up in the national interest for OK Computer that eventually led him to fall in love with Kid A as well.

Amnesiac and Hail to the Thief brought us evidence of the band’s near demise, Yorke’s battle with severe depression, a divided fan base, and a sense that Radiohead had come to an impasse in their collectively differing visions for the band’s future. I consider Amnesiac to be the quintessential B-sides from Kid A (incidentally, props to a certain redheaded Rob for buying me Amnesiac for my 21st birthday); and, Hail to the Thief as an emptying of the coffer that was necessary for the albums to come.

The Story of Us

For those of you who don’t know our story, I offer to briefest version I can summon:

• We met in August 1999, totally randomly, in front of Kohl Hall at Bowling Green State University.
• We quickly became friends, and even worked together as third-shift night guards at Kohl Hall.
• I got my BFA in May 2003, and Matt moved in with me that fall to finish his final semester of undergrad studies.
• In the spring of 2005, Matt moved to Arizona; while, in the fall of 2004, I started grad school at BGSU.
• In between my two years of grad school, during the summer of 2005, I took a legendary, 40-day roadtrip, during which I visited Matt for a week-long respite from driving.
• I loved the southwest so much, that I went back January 2006 for another weekend visit with Matt.
• Nearing the end of grad school, I decided a change of scenery was in order, so I visited Matt in July 2006 after graduating to interview for jobs and scope out an apartment.
• I moved to Arizona in August 2006. By December, Matt and I started down the path of becoming more than just friends.

Blurring the Lines

Four long years after the release of Hail to the Thief, Radiohead released In Rainbows. I readily participated in the controversial “pay what you want” online download; Matt waited to first listen to the album with me, then, true to form, wanted to buy the actual artwork and liner notes. I immediately loved the album. One day, on our way to see The Darjeerling Limited (we also share a love of Wes Anderson movies), I played In Rainbows for Matt. It was around this same time that, after a long and tumultuous 2007, we also finally started officially dating. For this reason, the album resonated with both of us. We both cite the song “House of Cards” as a particularly powerful track:

“I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine”

In addition to In Rainbows, Matt and I spent a lot of nights listening to Kid A – this is “our” album in so many ways.

Radiohead toured In Rainbows during the summer of 2008. With much of our relationship still in limbo and undefined, Matt decided to accompany me to Sandy Pond for a whirlwind vacation. We flew a red-eye on a Wednesday, followed by Matt meeting pretty much my entire extended family, followed by a breakneck roadtrip to Toronto to see Radiohead, followed by a simply magical week together.

Seeing Radiohead in Toronto not only put stars in our eyes for the band, but also for each other. That fall, we moved in together. 2009 and much of 2010 was a rocky road for our relationship, as the transition from friends to partners was rough on both of us. Add in the growing dissatisfaction we both had for our respective jobs, and the result nearly squashed our romance. However, after a some unintentional time apart (I travel almost six weeks straight through May and June for work), a month-long celebration of my 30th birthday, and my back surgery, Matt found himself on one knee, proposing to me.

These Days

In February 2011, Radiohead released The King of Limbs. We first listened to TKOL in our living room in Phoenix and, after our great escape from the desert that March, it came to define the spring leading up to our wedding. In the minutes before our wedding ceremony, we played a few tracks from Christopher O’Reilly’s True Love Waits, a brilliant interpretation of Radiohead classics arranged for piano. At our reception, we, along with some surprised fans and unsuspecting romantics, danced to “House of Cards.” And, as you might guess, we’ve played a number of Radiohead albums in utero for the Mini.

When Radiohead announced a TKOL tour, it naturally made sense that we would go...even though I was pregnant and we knew the concert would take place a mere five weeks before my due date. With the help of Mr. Christian Bloomfield--best friend, best man, best everything extraordinaire--and a total of five laptops, we procured tickets to see Radiohead on June 3 in Washington, DC. From the moment the tickets came in the mail, we virtually held our breath and knocked on wood, evening banning all discussion of the said event.

This past weekend, we traveled to DC for our “babymoon.” We spent some time at the Udvar-Hazy Center; stayed at the historic Morrison-Clark Inn; ate a fantastic Greek mezze dinner at Zaytinya and an equally delicious Chinese dim sum dinner at Ping Pong; and, saw Radiohead for the second time. We drastically underestimated how emotionally draining the concert would be—the months of anticipation, the anxiety over potentially missing the show due to an early baby, and the simple excitement of seeing our favorite band—as we spent two hours in a state of awe-struck, goosebump-covered, euphoria, followed by sheer exhaustion and a comedown of sorts.

The show marked the end of another chapter of story together. We agreed that it is the end of an era – that the concert marked the end of the first incredible chapter of our friendship, romance and future, both with each other and with Radiohead. Sure, our near fanatical love of the band may seem crazy to some of you but, as I’ve tried to illuminate here, it’s not without a good cause and a rich history.

I’ve often thought that if I could love anything half as much as Thom Yorke clearly loves music, then I’d be the happiest woman alive. Well, I do…Matt Cooper…and I am. Now I really get it.

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Two great Radiohead resources: Dead Air Space (official) and Green Plastic (unofficial)