Bean Counter

I am in shock over the fact that on Saturday my little Bean turns one. How on Earth did that happen?! It’s such a cliché, but it really does seem like it all happened overnight. Although, those first three months or so did seem like they would NEVER end. I do remember that agonizing feeling of “can’t-I-just-get-some-sleep-already?” And the cosmic joke of ‘needing to rest’ to recover from surgery all while you are pulling out every stop to make sure your little tiny baby is breastfeeding every time they whimper? Yea. That. And the constant pumping to make sure said milk is fully in and up to snuff. Uh. Huh. So between pulling out the boob to hook up to the milker and pulling out the boob to feed the mewling kitten – you really don’t need a shirt. If my front door wasn’t all windows, I would’ve chucked the whole top thing completely. I mean, why bother? It’s not like you have time to think about clothes anyway. Or that any of the clothes of your former life actually fit. So.

But I can think back wistfully over those first few weeks of bliss. I know it could’ve just been the Percocet, but I was truly blissful. The hubby was home, Miss 6 was loving kindergarten and coming home most days at lunch — so we were in this surreal happy little family bubble state (it also could’ve been Bubble Girl’s recent presence ☺). I fondly remember that first beer. On the back deck, the weather was Colorado Colorful (which means perpetually perfect). I had teeny bean on my lap, snuggled, and Miss 6 close too. And isn’t it kind of pathetic that I was just so thrilled to have that first beer. Seriously. I told someone this past weekend that my brain is gone (after blanking out in the middle of a sentence, no less). If it wasn’t the hormones from the pregnancies, then it surely must be the extra volumes of red wine that I now must imbibe to stay sane. Truly.

But this is my time. Fall is my favorite time of year. I love jeans and flip-flops. Sweatshirts. Coffee in the cool mornings. Anything with pumpkin. Fall leaves. All that. And now I can look back lovingly to my 2006 fall when I had a little bean and I could drink again. ☺

I saw this couple in Target yesterday. They were moving through the store in a post-baby haze. New stroller, Starbucks in hand. One of those outings that I remember oh-so-well. You’re thrilled to just be out and about. No matter where it is. (With Miss 6 it was Marshall’s.) Then the baby started to cry. The mom looked a little stressed. Not too, but just so. “We pushed it a little too far. Now she’s hungry,” she said to me in explanation. “Oh yes. I remember.” I said in reply. And I do. Like it was yesterday.

But it was a year ago. A year. Wow. And the Bean is all over the place. Taking clothes out of the hamper and sprinkling them around her crib when she’s supposed to be sleeping. Eating rocks and dirt out of the coffee tree’s pot. Unbinding the books with her teeth — the paper bits and glue surrounding her mouth like lipstick gone wrong. She even had her mouth to the floor yesterday, trying to pick up a leaf with her tongue. Then she grabs the corks we have in a big glass jar and tries to eat those too. If the dog food bowl gets left on the floor, “YUM! Scooby snacks!” It’s like the child looks at the whole world as if it’s a veritable smorgasbord. (Which also happens to be my favorite song from Charlotte’s Web ☺.) She’s insatiable. And joyful. And so Beanie-ish. And now a one-year-old.

I also must mention that Miss 6 has become a soccer maniac. I never saw it coming. This was the child that hated soccer. She spent her first try at it sitting in the net, refusing to come out. “It’s too much running!” Now after two practices and two games, she is almost psycho over it. She sleeps with the ball and practically does the ‘tick-tock’ drills in her sleep. After the first game — in which she came damn close to scoring a goal — she woke up from a nap and immediately said, “Mommy? I was hungry for the ball today, wasn’t I?” Where did she come from? Doesn’t she know that I have a mental block against being a soccer mom? (No offense, it’s just one of my many quirky hang-ups.) And now we are IN it. Fully. Every Friday afternoon, it’s practice. Every Saturday morning, it’s a game. I am thrilled for her that she’s found something she enjoys so much. But I can’t get over myself about it. I never thought we would go there. And yet. And yet — it isn’t so bad. We have fun with the other parents and it’s relatively mellow. So I’ll deal. I chose the mom thing and now it has chosen me. But. I will not buy a minivan and I will not put a soccer mom sticker on my car. There’s my rebellion. (And, again, no offense. It’s just me. Not my judgment of others.) And you can check in with me in a year and see what of that I’ve compromised by then. ☺

Last Friday I had my quarterly meltdown. Although in looking back over my entries, I may be kidding myself. It could be bi-monthly…but either way, if that’s all I need to stay sane and off meds, I really can’t complain…☺ The hubby handles it with aplomb. Just dealing. Offering encouragement. Coming home for lunch to hear me out or give me some time to myself. And then it ends and all is right with the world again. And my mima called right in the middle. She always knows. And she always knows just what to say. And do. So she did. And I thank her. The silliest part is that I know I’m doing it and I still can’t stop myself. I guess I just have to be one with it. Cry it out. Then let it go. (And so I did, and so it goes…)

But in other Miss 6 news, she has now announced that she is a vegetarian. Why even last night as we ate our egg/spinach/feta/potato frittata, she asked, “Where does potato come from?” The hubby said, “The ground.” To which she replied, “So nothing died?” “No, nothing died.” We’ve decided to just go with it. Not make a big deal. Just let it be. We were vegetarians for over two years and I am still a picky meat eater. Chicken: Free Range. Beef: No Antibiotics or Hormones. All that. Organic feed – if you can really be sure of any of it. But at least I try and I feel better for the effort. So on some level I get it. And support her. But I couldn’t help myself: “Are you sure you aren’t a wedgetarian?” “What’s that?” “Someone who always has a wedgie?” “MOM!” (I take it that means no.)

Life is good here in SoBo. Purse Girl just found out that the Julia is carrying one of her bags. One well-timed shot from the paparazzi and she’s golden. And we can say we knew her when.

As for us, I’m just trying to order a cake for Bean’s Big Day. We’ll take Friday off and do the family thing all day. Go to Cheyenne Mountain Zoo and feed the giraffes. Something like that. Then Saturday (the actual b-day), we’ll drag the birthday girl to her big sister’s soccer game. Poor second baby. But at least she’ll have some grass to eat. ☺

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Good Things. BoDeans. Give I can give love and attention. Give I can give all time away. Only to one heart I can give today.