Updates

Update on Maya vs. Spring Awakening. 

Maya: she is awakening, breaking the soil and leaving that newborn blob stage behind! At five/six weeks old she is holding lovely eye contact, often with a goofy grin and fart attached and emitted. Her hair has not awakened, and in fact has left us on top except for a weak middle stripe - the ‘thinning badge of honor atop an aging rockstar’ look. 

Spring: at five weeks old, you showed up only two days so far. Where are you? In the three years since we moved back to Chicago, you have lost this awakening game to both of my spring babies. Solly was born on March 21st (your arrival day, Spring!) giving you a fair start. Did a winter-lover mock your delicate flowers and call tulips “blue lips”? If so, let’s work on resiliency. I hate to see you loose so often. 

Maya: 6

Spring: 0.2

Update on left handed play dough creations while nursing. 1 out of 5 stars. Tough toddler critic.

Update on travel. We have gone many places in the last few weeks thanks to our multi colored rug. It’s been great to get out. When you stand on the blue splotch you are at the pool. The red includes all warm weather destinations, and the tan is a beautiful beach in the Bahamas with pina coladas, palm trees, and dolphins who swim up and befriend you from the wild at will because they like you and not because you paid to swim with them. Our travel agent is Solly and the plane is a small whale tub. Rob and I are engines. Maya provides the in flight crying that causes you to up the volume in your earbuds and glare out the window. 

Update on weather. Last week our apartment averaged about 72. This week it’s also averaging 72.

Update on going back to work. Still conflicted. Go back after 8 weeks or take more unpaid time off? What does “going back to work” even mean in a pandemic? It sounds easy to work from home since it doesn’t require pumping milk, setting Maya up with a sitter, or the emotional readiness of leaving her for a bit, but I’ve barely been able to attend a few remote budget meetings because our home has two working parents with a 25 month old and a 1 month old and we can’t hire help right now due to the virus…

Update on sleep. 2-3 hour stints due to the sweetest gassiest baby in the world.

Update on sibling connections. Solly’s love language is poking Maya’s eyes. She seems to love any form of attention he gives even if it means she’ll need to learn braille. He also hugs the air near her more often now and says “awww.”

Update on missing my students. Sooooooo much. Teaching takes so much energy but brings you out of yourself and into the present and the whirling dramatic joy of others in the best best way. I’m thinking about a wild plan to do drive-by visits to the seniors...it’s a little crazy but it might work… I know how important closure is and was to me. I ritualized leaving teachers and school so much that I have memories of writing my second grade teachers love letters and touching certain joy items in the rooms and building before moving to the upper elementary campus for 3rd grade. It got more intense in middle school where I literally took a hosta plant from the courtyard and a piece of the stage home. I can’t imagine how the celebration of four years at a demanding public arts high school with 8am-5pm hours plus rehearsals afterwards falls flat when you can’t hold hands and dance out tears with your friends.

Update on vocab envy. Still have it. I turn green when someone I know uses a word in casual conversation that’s big and wonderful. 

Update on Solly phrases. “fuck (truck) on table” and “mama put pants on” have been some recent stand outs.

Update on hope attempts (in the genre of a journaled run-on sentence): “I’m driving in a rainstorm devastated that Rob is not feeling great and the fact that there’s been no spring sunshine, and Solly Maya and I have been staying at my Mom’s for over a week so Rob can get rest back at our place and my boobs are out in the car because they hurt from non stop nursing and then the notification on my phone pops up telling me to join the family Seder and I think, is this what Buddhists and Marilla Cuthbert from Anne of Green Gables mean when they say you should lower expectations for more contentment? March and April continue to betray me when I approach them with so much hope every year - would I be happier and not hurting on the inside so much if I wished less for weather above 45 in the spring and having my family together through the newborn stage? Isn’t lowering your expectations just cheating your brain? Should I instead think of this drive through the rain with a newborn in the backseat to pick up more diapers and breast pads from our apartment as an adventure - only to wave at Rob (wishing I could hug him) and then drive back to my mom’s house for virtual matzo balls and charoset?

Update on hope. If you scream in its face, it still walks in the next day with quiet gentle steps like the Penguin in “A Sick Day For Amos McGee.” Carrying its red balloon.