Baby shower

Yesterday, my friends Diana and Tamara hosted a baby shower for Sophie and me down in San Carlos.  I picked the guest list that consisted of my very favorite former coworkers from The Company That Shall Never Be Named.

(Too bad I didn't take this picture until later into the party.)

Because they are kind and pay attention to those kinds of details, two of my very favorite beverages were served:  sangria and lemonade.  I partook in multiple glasses of both, but I had to restrain myself from the sangria--I had to drive my baby home!  Sometimes being a grown-up is hard.

It felt nice to put on a little makeup and actual clothes without baby spit-up and talk to adults.  Plus, there were beautiful gifts (including a baby swing that I hear I will drop down to my knees and thank God for!), a lovely lunch, and delicious cupcakes.

The party girl pretty much slept through the entire thing.

(She has her mama's long toes!)

I was especially pleased to see my long-lost buddy Ruben.  We used to have lunch, take walks, and sneak off for sangria together at one of the Mexican restaurants in downtown Los Altos during workdays at The Company That Shall Never Be Named.  I would talk his ear off, sing songs, and re-enact dramatic conversations for him while he listened and occasionally gave me strange looks.  Once he sat with me in my car and quietly held my hand during a panic attack, and I will never forget that.

It was amazing and way overdue to spend an afternoon surrounded by friends.  I felt loved.  Now I'm going to curl up with that feeling and let it tie me over.

My Mini-Me

Greater than the sum of their parts

Somehow, the combination of these "A Softer World" comics expresses me today better than my own words.

Moment by moment

I'm finding that as a new mom (to a pretty quiet, relatively low maintenance baby, I should add) there is plenty of time to think what with being up at all hours of the night.  Being an anxious person, my brain often translates this into "plenty of time to worry."  In my hands has been entrusted an enormous responsibility.  And the future is so big and scary and unknown!

I have been finding that the best way to cope is to keep my mind on the immediate, practical things of which there seems to be no shortage.  Hour by hour I keep my focus on the next diaper change, the next feeding.  Day by day I mark time by how many diapers I have left, how much formula has been consumed, and whether there is enough clean laundry.  Longer periods of time are tracked in terms of well-baby doctor appointments.

This mental system is working well.  I might be tired, but I'm waking up with a smile most mornings and doting on my daughter around the clock.  The big, scary unknowns are mostly kept at bay with the exception of one area into which my mind has taken to wandering.

Mortality.

Ugh!  So heavy!  Even for this angsty blog!

But I find that my well-being has taken on all these new implications.  It's not just me anymore.  Every decision has new meaning.  Every dollar I spend has taken on new importance:  is this really the best use of the money?  Will there still be plenty for diapers and formula?  (And now we've come full circle!)

I continue writing to my daughter in her "Dear Frijole" blog.  I lovingly fill out and paste pictures into her baby book.  Most of me wants to capture her childhood as thoroughly as possible, but the darker parts of me whisper, "Just in case...just in case...so she'll know..."  I want to beg members of my family that if something happens to me, please let her know!  Tell her how much I loved her and who I was and how much I wanted her!  But I say nothing because that sounds crazy.  Or fatalistic.  Or [gulp] like foreshadowing?

Enough of that.

She won't remember the moments, of course, but I try to pour immeasurable tenderness into all of my attentions to Sophia.  I stroke her arms and legs and silky hair.  I rub her back.  I kiss her kicking little feet and dimpled hands and chubby cheeks.  Every morning around 5am you can find us snuggled on the couch under a big cozy blanket and these are some of my favorite moments of the whole day.  Everyone is asleep, the house is silent, and we are safe, warm, and together.  I block out the big, scary unknowns with that fact and for an hour or two, at least, that is all there is and that is enough.

(Taken this morning.)

Alone again or...

Yeah, said it's all right
I won't forget
All the times I've waited patiently for you
And you'll do just what you choose to do
And I will be alone again tonight my dear

Yeah, I heard a funny thing
Somebody said to me
You know that I could be in love with almost everyone
I think that people are
The greatest fun
And I will be alone again tonight my dear

* * *

The lost cause of words walks away with my nerves
'Cause I'm gay as a choir boy for you

* * *

You are so hot.
I would like to steal your digits
And I am so hung up on it
I would like to move away from it.

* * *

Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop
Talking to me

* * *

I want a bit part in your life.
A walk-on would be fine.
I just want a bit part in your life
(A bit part in your life)

I want a bit part in  your life
Rehearsing all the time
I just want a bit part in your life
(A bit part in your life)

Little more than a cameo
Nothing traumatic when I go

* * *

(You know who you are.)

With credits to Love, Two Gallants, Modest Mouse, Foster the People, and the Lemonheads, respectively.