Sacagawea dollars

It's storytime! For some reason, I woke up this morning remembering this incident and took it as a sign that I should blog about it. So here you go.

Once upon a time when I was 11, I was taking ballroom dance lessons with a neighbor boy and the grand showcase was coming up. After a dress rehearsal at Logan High School in early June, I decided to wait for my dad under the shade of a tree across the street from the school for easier pickup.

As I sat daydreaming under the tree in my sparkly costume and sunglasses, I heard a voice. "Hey, pretty girl!" I looked up and there stood two boys who couldn't have been more than 8 years old. "Hey pretty girl, will you kiss us?"

I really didn't want to deal with them. My sunglasses gave me an idea. I began to do some sign language, hoping that they would think that I couldn't hear them so they would give up. (I must have been hoping the sunglasses would give an overall Helen Keller impression.)

"What are you doing?" they asked. I sighed as I gave up the charade, pulled off my sunglasses, and asked, "What do you want?"

"Will you kiss us?" I suppose it was the sequiny silver jacket I was wearing that had allured them.

"Uh . . ." I responded.

"We'll pay you!" one of them said, and they ran home. I stayed under the tree, figuring that either my dad would pick me up or they would forget and turn on Cartoon Network.

No such luck. Within a few minutes they were scurrying back. I rolled my eyes.

"We'll give you all of these if you kiss us!" There in their hands were 20 or so Sacagaewea dollars. I had never seen so much gold in my life. Where on earth had they gotten it?

"Um, I need . . . you need to pay me more if you want me to kiss you," I choked out.

"Okay!" they responded and went to get more, still holding all the coins. As soon as they were out of sight, I hurried back across the street into the high school. I watched through the glass doors as they came back to the tree, looked around for me, shrugged, and then went back home. I heaved a sigh of relief but still didn't dare to go outside again til I saw my dad's car.

I wonder what became of those boys.

Other one month tidbits

-We've been listening to lots of Primary songs since Joseph was born. He seems to like them and I hope that if he hears them daily then he will learn them. He might even like them enough that he'll sing them right, and not have the snowman grow in the sun or frown that smile away like every other little boy does and thinks he's a genius. (Admit it, guys, you all did that. Girls were way too mature for that, though.)

There is a downside to him listening to the CDs, though. They sing out of tune so much! (I know, I'm being petty.) There are times when Kevin and I cringe at the singing, especially during the rounds. Ah well. He'll learn to sing in tune from me. The church isn't in charge of teaching your kids everything, after all.

-Speaking of teaching your kids, Kevin is a fabulous teacher. We'll be on a walk and smell a barbecue, and Kevin will say to Joseph, "That smell is meat. Meat is good. You'll like meat."

Or while folding laundry, "Joseph, this is the most fun thing ever. You will love to fold laundry."

Or, "Joseph, this is broccoli. You will love broccoli." Or vacuuming, or fruit, or reading, or playing piano. I hope that he remembers these lessons years from now.

-Besides giving birth to Joseph, my proudest accomplishment for the past month is managing to nurse him while playing the piano with both hands. I only tried it once, and I really couldn't play very well, but I still felt really cool.

-Fetal habits die hard. Compare this:

and this:

It's kind of hard to see, but he has been sticking out his pointer finger for months now! (It's right in the middle of the ultrasound picture.) Wonder how long he'll keep it up. 

One month

Joseph is one month old today! And it has been a month unlike any other. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

For all you future parents out there, here are some myths I would like to debunk. 

-Nap while the baby's napping. False. Babies don't nap after the first week. They drift in and out of consciousness in a 5-minute cycle, always ready to wake up the minute you try to take a nap.
(Okay, so they eventually sleep for longer periods and I've gotten a nap most days that I've wanted one, but it sure wasn't the sleepfest I'd been expecting.)

-Babies sleep about 16 hours a day. False. There have been some days where Joseph didn't sleep more than 10 hours.

I'm guessing this was one of his sleepier days.

-Babies love to stare at things with a lot of contrast, especially black and white things (since they can't see color yet). False. Joseph loves to look at things like the couch, or a wall, or a closet door. All monochromatic.

-Tummy time is when a baby learns to lift his head. False. Tummy time is the time to for your baby to eat his hand and the blanket and to try and crawl. It's going to be a long 6-8 months for this little guy if he keeps on getting frustrated every time he can't crawl.

-Newborn babies have ugly squishy faces. False. Here is clear, objective, indisputable proof.

(Disclaimer: These "myths" are not patently false, but they're certainly not true for every baby.)

Why I can never be a true mommy blogger

So I'm a mommy now. I've got a blog. That makes me a mommy blogger, right?

Wrong! Mommy bloggers know how to take pictures of their baby! I . . . am still struggling in that department.

It's not for lack of trying. Well, maybe it is. I didn't even know where the camera was for like a week. I figured it would turn up the next time we had visitors and I felt guilt-tripped into cleaning the living room. So the third week of Joseph's life is kind of undocumented. Oh well. I think mine was, too.

Where was I? Oh! It's not for lack of trying that I'm terrible at taking pictures. Once I found the camera, I tried to make up for lost time. The other day, Joseph had a cute little half smile. Hoping that he would replicate it, I grabbed the camera.

About 5 minutes and 40 pictures later (most of them blurry, Kevin noted), I still hadn't caught a half smile. I decided to give up when I accidentally caught this instead:

Does this make anyone else think of Jon Schmidt's "Waterfall"?

Yum. Anyway, turns out babies aren't particularly good at posing for the camera. Or staying still, for that matter. I have new respect for baby photographers.

There are a few other pictures I'm kind of sad I haven't been able to take yet. Like when he holds out his pointer finger as if to say "I'm number one!" the way he did for the ultrasound (fetal habits die hard). Or when he pulls his own hair (but really, what kind of parent would I be if I took a picture of him pulling his hair instead of stopping it?). Maybe one of these days he'll cooperate.

Since this is a blog, and since I do have a baby, I suppose I ought to share more pictures of him. So here they are. Enjoy!

He sticks his tongue out a lot.

I guess that's sort of a smile.

During tummy time one evening. I was trying to take a picture of how he could lift his head. 20 pictures later . . . oh well. :)

Mrs. Moon

Every now and then, I'm reminded that I married someone with the same last name. Most recently, it's been with all the forms I've been filling out which have asked for my maiden name. Last week, the hospital called because they didn't think I had filled the form out correctly and had accidentally put my last name twice. As feather-brained as pregnancy and new baby have made me, I still don't think I would have made that mistake. (I was laughing pretty hard when that phone call ended.)

But there are other, more subtle ways in which my lack of name change provides amusement. The other day, Kevin called me Mrs. Moon, which he does every now and then. The first time I heard that it was weird weird weird. Mrs. Moon was my mom! And it was my mom in exactly one capacity: volunteering in my class in 5th grade class or doing PTA stuff, always wearing a denim skirt and dark red toenail polish.

Fast forward to a few days ago. My mom decided to buy me some new clothes to celebrate not being pregnant any more (thanks Mom!). She got me some new skirts, some capris, and a cute top that looked like one she would wear herself.  It was while I was wearing this top, my new denim skirt, and uncharacteristically dark red toenail polish that Kevin called me Mrs. Moon. And I just felt so . . . Mrs. Moon-ish.

To add to the Mrs. Moon-ish-ness, the next day my mom stopped by to see Joseph. And she was wearing the exact same top, a denim skirt, and dark red toenail polish.

It's official. I've turned into my mom.

New moon

Note: this post is word-heavy and probably boring. Skip to the videos at the end if you just want to watch a cute baby instead of read about new-mom angst.

Where have I been the past few weeks, you may ask? I've been on an oxytocin high thanks to this little guy:

Out of the hundreds of pictures I've taken, I still can't find one that does him justice. He's much cuter in real life.

Yep, Joseph Isaac Moon is here! I went into labor a little before 2 am on Saturday, May 26th and out he came at 10:36 am. (If you want more details, I'd be happy to send you the blow-by-blow, cm-by-cm tale, but I feel like it would not be interesting to most everyone. I dunno. I read every birth story on every blog I could find the weeks before he came out, but maybe I'm just weird. At any rate, it was a very non-horror-story labor so if you want to read one of those to know they exist, I'd be happy to send it to you. Suffice it to say labor went well, the Provo hospital was absolutely fabulous [I don't get why people are hating on hospitals these days since everyone was so nice and friendly and knowledgeable], and I am a fan of epidurals.) He was 8 lbs 2 oz and somewhere between 19 and 21 inches (he either grew a lot when we went to the pediatrician 4 days after birth or they didn't measure quite right at the hospital).

And he is wonderful! I love seeing his bright blue eyes and watching him kick his legs around the way he did inside of me just two weeks ago. I love the way his eyes get big and greedy when he realizes that I'm about to feed him and how he opens his mouth like a baby bird. I love how he sticks his tongue out like a frog. I love the way he bonks his head on my chest when he wants food. I love how when we do tummy time he tries to crawl (though I don't love how frustrated he gets when he can't because there's really nothing I can do to help him out there). I love how surprised I was by how alert newborns actually are (they're just comatose for company, I've decided). And (I feel bad admitting this) I sort of like it when I'm changing his diaper and he hates it and starts to scream and it takes a few seconds for him to get the scream out and I'm like "wait for it wait for it" and then he lets out a piercing wail. (Disclaimer: I like this only because I know it will end as soon as the diaper change ends. I don't actually take pleasure in babies crying.)

Granted, it is hard. Before he was born I figured the hard things would be the diapers, the crying, and the sleep deprivation. Turns out diapers stopped being disgusting around Day 2. Granted, there are still times which are a little gross, like when he does what I affectionately and euphemistically call the Arc de Triomphe when I forget to cover him while changing him, but for the most part I don't mind the diapers. Crying is still hard, especially since he's getting fussier (they say around 2 weeks they get progressively fussier til about 2 months . . awesome), but in general I'm able to calm him down. And the sleep . . . well, every night is a new adventure. Last night I was asleep from 11 to 9 with only 2 wakeup calls, so today I feel like the waking up in the night isn't so terrible. But then again I've had some 3-4 hours of sleep sorts of nights too, so it fluctuates.

But what's really been hard is the feeding and the worrying. These days the hardest thing about feeding him is the timing. He doesn't have a set pattern so it's really hard to plan anything from naps to doctor's visits to trips to the library to even doing household chores. And nursing is hard and scary and wet and sticky and uncomfortable and worrisome at the beginning. But it's getting better.

The worrying is not. I worry about that little bit of congestion in his nose, how many diapers he's had in a day, his umbilical cord, if he's eating too little, if he's eating too much, if the spicy food I eat bugs him, the way he chokes and sputters sometimes while eating, if he'll stop breathing in the night, etc. And then to make it worse, I get so much conflicting advice from nurses and pediatricians and family and hospital pamphlets and books about nearly everything that I don't know what to do sometimes. (As a side note, I haven't updated my Facebook status "What's on your mind?" for a while now because the only thing on my mind is all this stuff and I'm loath to receive any more advice from well-meaning friends.) But then I figure that billions of people have survived being babies despite having somewhat clueless mothers, and it helps me not worry so much and helps me just pick and choose the advice that seems right.

Despite these hard things, it's wonderful. And he's adorable. And perfect. And this post has had way too many words and far too little of Joseph considering it's a post about him for goodness sakes! So for your viewing pleasure: