Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Parenting Platitudes



If any of you are wondering what it’s like to be a new parent, then take note of the fact that it’s been six months since my last post. At some point, life becomes less of crossing things off a ‘to do’ list and more about triaging what’s really important.

(What day is it today? Have I showered? Am I wearing underwear? Did I kiss Grant enough today? Does he know I love him? What’s for dinner? Do we need milk/diapers/wipes/bananas? Am I doing this right? Is he “normal”? Do I care? Is that dirt or a tan?).

So, in honor of making it mostly alive through the first year, I’m going to give you all a fast and furious update via a little play on some parenting clichés

“He’s so precious!”
Yes, thank you, he is. Obviously, I find Grant to be the cutest, smartest, baby ever. In the whole world. Over all of human existence. Simply, Grant is the most amazing thing I’ve ever created; and, barring my wedding day, his birth is one of my most cherished moments in life.

“He looks just like you!”
Actually, we beg to differ. We think he looks just like…himself. Yes, he has my forehead and Matt’s blue eyes. Sure, there is a pretty strong resemblance to our maternal grandfathers. However, overall, Grant looks like Grant.

“It’s just a phase.”
It is! For the most part, Grant has entered and exited phases without ever looking back. Let’s review some of his phases:
  • Exorcist-style puking, relentless shrieking and screeching, and little to no restful sleeping
    The answer to this one is part time and patience—after the first three months, EVERYTHING gets better—and part experimentation. We tried acid reflux meds (didn’t work at all) and different brands and types of formula (nothing worked and we eventually went back to regular old Enfamil). What worked best was a foam sleeping wedge (plus, diligent sleep training at six months) , Dr. Brown’s wide-mouth bottles, and rigorous  burping.
  • Chewing on the edges of area rugs
    Thankfully, this phase ended after teething was in fully swing. But, for a while there, we had to cover the edges with toy bins, blankets, tables, chairs, or ourselves to block his advances on any carpet.
  • Yanking on his wiener
    Although Grant is done with the violent, seemingly painful phase where it appeared that he wanted to rip off his poor little Johnson, theoretically, wiener yanking will continue in some form long into his adult, male life.
  • Grinding his teeth
    This phase can’t end fast enough. The sound of him rubbing his front eight teeth together makes me physically nauseous.
 “Boys will be boys.”
Most of the time, Grant turns into a filthy dirtball after what seems like only moments after a bath. He likes chewing on mulch, foam rubber, and kitchen utensils. He is in love with pushing around his trucks. He’s loud. He’s a destroyer of block towers and a conqueror of anything lying in his path. He loves to climb and attempt to break anything he gets his hands on. But, with any amount of luck, and in light of the fact that he spends every day with a sassy nanny and a headstrong mommy, and has one practical, industrious, father, one day he will be a smart, well spoken, gentleman who respects women, has excellent manners, and can figure out anything.

“Enjoy these times, because they grow up so fast!”
A small sample of things he’s learned since the last time I wrote: Crawling, pulling himself up, climbing up the stairs, diving headfirst off furniture, pinching, grabbing hold of any type of food no matter the size or shape, understanding the concept of a spoon and fork (although the food doesn’t always make it into his mouth), blowing raspberries, sticking his tongue out, laughing at himself and others, kissing, high-fiving, helping get dressed and undressed, opening doors, sleeping through the night, self soothing, babbling (current sounds include ‘ma’, ‘da’, ‘ba’, and ‘na’)

“Kids strengthen a marriage.”
Having child has taught Matt and me so much: At times, it has tested the bedrock of our relationship; and, other times, it has reaffirmed our friendship and love for one another. We’ve learned a lot about the old adage, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.” We’re learning more and more about the boundaries of our patience, creativity, resourcefulness, and energy. Most importantly, as we observe each other as parents, we are able to absorb both positive and negative lessons. On one hand, we can share new ‘tricks of the trade’ with each other; and, on the other hand, watching the other person lose their patience, scream and yell, submit to a rotten mood, or just generally take out their bad day on Grant, we can see how we must look and sound when we have those same moments.

“It’s important to take care of yourself.”
Now, more than ever, I make time to cook crazy new meals every week and go to yoga at least twice. Matt enjoys walking and riding his bike, taking some time in the man cave (read: outdoor shed), and doing a house project or mowing the lawn. We make a conscious effort to ‘switch off’ every once in a while to give each other a little alone time. Every parent knows that there are just some times when you don’t want to look at your child, touch or hold them, or even think about being a parent. Even if it only means a quiet shower on the weekend, a solo grocery trip, or 15 minutes of uninterrupted dish washing, taking care of yourself is essential to being able to take care of your family.

“We’ve all been there.”
It’s important to give yourself a little slack. You can always find someone out there who has been through what you’re experiencing; and, through the magic of the Internet and social media, they are only a few keystrokes away.

We are also fortunate to be surrounded by a huge network of loving family and friends. Miss Beth is a diamond in the rough when it comes to nannies. Uncle Chris is the ‘Cooper Whisperer’. Gram and Pap Keefer are whatever they need to be—relief pitchers, spoilers, helpers, healers, mediators—and we are grateful that they live so close. Grandma Cooper’s love for monkey extends to the moon and back. Our neighbors are incredible, and a constant source of advice and hand-me-downs. In short, we couldn’t be happier that we made the decision to move back east.

“Oh it gets easier.”
No, it doesn’t. It just gets different.

 “Parenting is hard.”
Yes, it is. But it is also wonderful, awesome, rewarding, fulfilling, lovely, happy, great, good, and great.

As time passes me by, I remember less of the hard times and more of the god times. I’m learning how to hone my very own selective memories. The feeling of Grant’s puke sliding down my back already pales in comparison to what it felt like the first time he said ‘Ma’ and knew it was me or every time he gives me a big, sloppy kiss. The sound of his infant cry is a distant echo to the sound of his gleeful toddler laugh. Three things have never changed: I love myself; I love my husband; and, I love my son. At the end of the day:
All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Monkey Mania!


Matt and I have decided to (1) not impose a torrent of photos and videos of Grant upon those who are unwilling; and, (2) to keep everything private. I have a series of private albums in a collection that focuses solely on Grant. I've posted everything on Flickr.com.


Add me as a contact, then message me if you're interested in being marked as "Family," so you can experience Monkey Mania for yourself!



XOXO

--Chelsea


Tuesday, November 27, 2012

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

Friday, September 14, 2012

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 growbut 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

Saturday, August 11, 2012

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...