Inside My Head This site is dedicated to BSugar. Just remember, you asked for this.

Dear Finn,

Tomorrow I return to work and just like that, my little man, our summer together shall come to a close.

As you nap by my side, I’ve decided to forego straightening my hair and instead capture some thoughts about our time together.

Oh yes, I’ve been changed.

You see, early on in your existence, life threw me some curve balls. These curve balls, or gentle reminders, I’ve decided – served to re-focus my attention. I was reminded, and sometimes we all need reminders, that family comes first. That loyalty and commitment are to be reserved for people. And that my most important role, above all else - is to be a good mom.

Here then is what I saw, when I began to see clearly:

You carved your place in our clan by claiming easy and sweet as your stomping grounds. You exist in the crossover between happy and mellow. Yes, I’ve noticed your presence in the space we dedicate to observation and intelligence, but you sit there quietly. I suspect for you, much like your father, true confidence will trump bravado – one day. For now, you are content being content.

We found out a month or so ago that you have torticollis, your head tilts to the left. We call you TC, twist you in ungodly ways, and apply all our (my) overachiever energy to making you better. In turn, you just smile and improve and somehow I know, things will come easily for you.

You have been a true joy. The most important reminder of what’s important.

Thank you, my sweet boy, for a wonderful summer.

XX,

Mama

PS: We are both a bit bummed.

Dear Beckett,

Just like that, you’ve up and turned two.

Your birthday was Saturday, July 3^rd 2011.  However, I MAY have pretended it was yesterday, July 4^th – patriotic pretense bought us a parade, a fantastic, festive BBQ, many friends, lots of family, and a very happy little man.

NOTE: I will continue to use this revised timeline until you learn the days of the week and/or the yearly calendar.

For now though, I sit two days past your actual birthday, having had time to reflect on how you’ve grown and who you are today.

Here’s you – at 2:

You’re both cautious and curious, a combination that propels you to observe, assess, and decide your next move.

Move. You do this at a rate formerly unknown to me. When you’re not moving, you’re speaking.

You speak in full, clear sentences and frankly, sometimes it freaks us out.

Your absolute favorite phrases are: “What’s that noise?” “What happened?” and “Read a book?”

Books. You cannot get enough of them, especially before bedtime.

Bedtime. The ONLY time you’re allowed your paci – and that ended last night.  I bribed you with a party and a truck.

Trucks. You love them – passionately and indiscriminately. Scooper, dump, garbage, cement mixer, fire – they are all the same in your eyes.

Your eyes. Magical. Enormous and bright, like a full moon.

The moon – a former favorite.

Your current favorite: Dada.  No one compares, despite valiant efforts from Mama.

Mama. You say that I'm funny, and I make you laugh.

Your laugh. It’s our favorite sound.

Sound. You’re experimenting with this. Daily. Good times for us.

Experimenting.  A nice word for your ability to cross over to the dark side, completely meltdown, and then – in the blink of an eye – rebound to sweet.

Sweet. How you are with baby Finn.

Baby Finn. Warmly welcomed to your world, most of the time.

Time. Something moving far, far too fast.

Here’s to two!

Happy birthday to my amazing little man.

XX,

Mama

Dear Finn,

Today you are one week old.  You were born on 5/25/11 at 7:15AM in San Francisco - 7 pounds, 10 ounces, 21 inches long.

As it so happens, today is also my 34^th birthday. What an absolutely amazing gift to have you here by my side.

Over the last 7 days, I’ve had time to reflect upon your entry into our world (mostly during the 4 to 5 times a night I wake up to feed you).  But, unlike the rousing tale I shared about Birthing Beckett (your strapping older brother), this time I feel far less inclined to share the candid details of your arrival.  This, it should be noted, is quite unlike me.

Admittedly, I’m greatly tempted to write about my non-functioning epidural which resulted in natural labor, but I’ve decided to save this portion of the story for when you are 15, experimental, and I can say “there were no drugs for me, my friend – and there shall be no drugs for you.”

Instead, I want to focus on how you’ve made me feel.

Perhaps it’s because you are my second baby, and probably my last.

Maybe I’ve grown accustomed to this mom thing, accepting all wonders and challenges as one in the same.

Or, let’s be honest, it could be that you are much easier on the eyes than newborn Beckett (who, to be clear, is quite the looker now).

Whatever it is, the feelings I have are those of peace, gratitude, and dare I write it – bliss.

Yes, I’m “that mom” now.

This makes this, and you, a completely different experience for me.

I'm staring at fingers and toes.

I’m breaking all kinds of Baby Whisperer spoiling rules.

I’m enjoying every moment.

Well, most moments.

One day you’ll see that I was rather prolific throughout your brother’s first year of life – detailing all the surprises, challenges, and defining moments of a new mom.  I forewarn you, life is a bit busier now, so what you’ll likely lack in blog format, you’ll gain tenfold in the absence of angst and the light of appreciation.

Shining that light on you now, here’s some things you should know…

Your name, Finley Charles Spence, was derived from one of my most favorite literary characters: Huck Finn.  I hope you will possess some of his same qualities: goodness, a sense of adventure, compassion, imagination, strong will – and a little bit of naughty to balance your underlying nice.

Some of the other things I hope…

That you will always feel loved. And that you will always give love. Freely.

That you will be both confident and humble – and no matter what, kind.

That you will be funny.  Funny is fabulous.

That you will be honest.

That you will feel blessed, because you are.

That you will explore all your given talents, and put them to good use.

That you will be generous – in all possible ways.

That you and your brother will be best friends, no matter how different you are.

That you will love to read. Books make the world wonderful.

That you will love to travel. And, equally as important, that you will love to come home.

But for now baby Finn, let us go nap and be happy.

Thank you for making my birthday wonderful.

Love,

Mama

Great relationships are often measured in years.

Marriages. Friendships. Family.

Of years, many would argue the first is the most exciting – sometimes the hardest – perhaps the most telling.

In your 20’s, a yearlong relationship equals success.

In marriage, the first year can be difficult.

With children, the first year is about survival.

For the overly sentimental who deem survival a negative word, I’d argue that from survival comes wonderful things: deep gratitude, true appreciation, fortitude, and much needed perspective.

I just survived my son’s first year of life.

From the moment I birthed Beckett, I knew our relationship would be a journey.  Unlike the instant love others describe, I held my newborn with a mixture of curiosity, anticipation, and a healthy dose of fear.

The journey progressed more quickly than I imagined. I made stops in uncharted emotional territories, I endured physical challenges, and I found joy in rather surprising places.

One day, when Beckett is old enough to understand, I’ll tell him the things I learned in our first year…

Being a mother starts on day one, being a good mother starts every day after that.

When you’re not sure if you can do it, just do it.

When you want to cry, cry.

If you feel happy – stop – and feel happy.

Ask for help.

Ditch perfectionism.

Feel blessed.

Be grateful.

Accept change.

Embrace chaos.

Prioritize.

Re-prioritize.

Befriend patience.

Dance.

Make date nights.

Thank your own Mom.

Laugh.

Love. Just love.

Happy birthday to the charming little creature who is taking me on the most fabulous of journeys.

XO

Dear Friends With Kids,

Thanks SO much for the heads up that - at around the age of one - my child would likely be able to remove his own diaper.  And thank you for clarifying that if he could remove his own diaper, it probably wouldn't make sense to put him to nap in just his diaper (even in 80 degree weather), in case said child decided to go bare before having "an accident."  And by accident, I'm so grateful you told me about how a small creature could - shockingly - paint all 42 bars of his crib, the wall, his toys, and his face with his very own feces.  Seriously, I'm even super appreciative that you mentioned how fast poo dries, becomes like glue, and is utterly impossible to remove - necessitating an immediate bath and multiple loads of laundry.  Wow - just imagine what my afternoon would have been like if you hadn't told me about this phenomenon and I had to experience it first hand for myself - it probably WOULD HAVE SUCKED.

You guys rock.

PS: If there is any other sweet advice that you have neglected to mention, please bring it forth.  Thanks in advance.

In case it's not obvious, I'm not an overly emotional person.

I tend to lead with the head, rather than the heart. I wasn't a wee girl who imagined her wedding, dreamed of dimpled offspring, or pictured picket fences.

But, when I foresaw my future, and a potential partner in it, I did have a very clear idea of who that person should be - and indeed, I was fairly certain I was shooting a bit high.

Brilliant: I bore easily, smart would not do.

Kind: Someone would need to offset my tendency towards sarcasm.

Funny: But not as funny as me.

Hot: Superficial, but true.

Worldly: An accent earned extra points.

Optimistic: Cynical is so easy.

Creative: No finance types allowed.

Confident: Absolutely required.

Humble: An quality of the truly confident.

Generous: In spirit first.

Successful: In something that mattered.

Patient: I can be trying.

Admirable: Ah, to admire.

Given this list, you can imagine my surprise when I met C and he easily (a quality I later came to realize defines most things he takes on) exceeded all my expectations.

Now, don't get me wrong - homeboy is not perfect. He's got a fiery side to match his sweetness, he's getting a bit doomsday about this whole climate change thing, and he may kill people as part of his spy gig - but, you take the good with the bad.

Really though, this post is about C as a Dad, and how he continues to impress me.  Fatherhood has been a easy extension of his natural gifts - patience, attention, a proclivity for making animal noises.

I've watched for almost a year as B becomes increasingly mesmerized by this man, and in total awareness of my cheesiness, I feel proud at having made such a good choice (plus, this helps keeps the jealousy at bay).

And so yeah - there you have it - two softy Spence posts in a row.  But, it's worth it, to send someone super special a message that they are loved and appreciated and cherished.

Happy First Father's Day.

XO.

It's been a while since my last post.

You know how it goes - things have been particularly busy on the work front, C has been on back-to-back spy missions, the boy hasn't slept past 5:40AM in three weeks, etc.

But it also occurred to me (and I can already foresee regret in writing this), that maybe - just maybe - I am starting to get the hang of this Mom thing.

Everyone says, just get through the first year.

Ok, not everyone - but the people who I like, and who give it to you straight.

So basically, I've been on countdown to July 3, 2010 like it's the second coming of the Lord himself.  Honestly, I have had expectations of the skies parting, light shining down, and Beckett levitating in the air with a small halo around his luscious locks.

True story.

And, while I'm definitely still hoping for the above, I'm beginning to realize what the year factor really means: slow cooked resilience + key developmental milestones = pretty freaken cool experience.

The definition of resilience is: adjective - able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions. If you go ahead and define "difficult" as balancing work and motherhood, lack of sleep, lack of exercise, lack of being able to fit into your pants, and so forth - then it's fairly clear why finally being able to quickly recover from these things makes for a feel good phase.

Couple this with your previously non-moving, non-speaking, child's new-found ability to charm, flirt, and kiss on demand and BAM - the skies are parting, light is shining, etc.

Some say the whole journey is blissful; I'd say that's highly retrospective.

But then again, retrospect in the form of a 2.5 foot, smiling rascal - not the worst thing. 

Oh man, did I pull a doosey this weekend.

I hesitate to share this because 1) It's shows the true depth of my ineptitude 2) It may actually give my mom a heart attack.

Before I begin, may I just say this - how is it possible - that no one (that I know of, anyway) has written a handbook on some fairly simple, albeit not entirely obvious, rules of engagement for babies.  I mean - seriously - I could have saved myself some major headaches had I some key inside tips.

If I were to write that book (and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna) here's a small sampling of things I would include....

1) Newborns sound like warthogs when they sleep, get earplugs.

2) If you have a baby boy, cover his penis when removing his diaper - if you do not, you will be peed upon for the first three weeks of his life. 

3) Pacifiers do not create nipple confusion, they create silence.

4) Buy the swaddles with Velcro, no one is impressed by how tight you can swaddle a miracle blanket at 3AM.

5) You can spoil a newborn. If you don't believe this, try co-sleeping for the first few months.

6) If your 8 month old is not crawling, don't be anxious - throw a party.

7) Tossing your child in the air after a meal, will likely result in the reappearance of said meal.

8) Clipping your baby's finger nails is akin to trying to thread a needle when wasted - good luck with that.

9) Baths are the panacea for most.

And the number 10 helpful hint - that I learned last weekend.....

10) Remove your baby from the shopping cart BEFORE unloading your groceries - or else, baby and shopping cart MAY roll up to 100 yards away in a busy parking lot.

Please feel free to leave a comment with additional rules, I'm officially collecting.

I just survived a serious case of WeekendMom, amplified by a bout of TravelingHusband.

Allow me to explain.

WeekendMom is a full-time employee by week, full-time mom by weekend. Based on a simple equation of time spent, the latter is her weaker role. WeekendMom, like all Moms, is completely exhausted by Saturday. However, unlike her stay at home counterpart, she carries the burden of absentee guilt and therefore, launches into her weekend role with the passion of a thousand suns.  In 48 hours, WeekendMom tries to be it all - FunMom, EngagedMom, SureItsOkIfYouDontSleepMom - but in truth, she's just OutofPracticeMom.

You see, WeekendMom has none of the grace, fortitude, or quite frankly - necessary nonchalance - of StayAtHomeMom. These are learned traits, and WeekendMom misses most of the classes.

When WeekendMom hangs out with StayAtHomeMom she gets a crash course in all the necessary basics: how to breed independence (i.e give them a toy while you update Facebook), how to spot a nap from a mile away (go to the other side of the house and let them scream), how to develop social skills (throw them in a playgroup - it's like free daycare, chances are - someone is watching).

WeekendMom is learning.

Slowly.

By Sunday, WeekendMom often feels pretty good about herself. She's in the zone. She's made it through two days. Or, for example, countless diapers, numerous feeds, a public meltdown, a small head injury, a run away dog, a unfortunate urinating incident, and ZERO naps. Just for example.

But then Sunday will become Monday, and WeekendMom will morph into WorkingMom. And just like that, it's back to the slow reading group...until next Weekend.

PS: WeekendMom sometimes has trouble getting her kid dressed.

I have a house rule.

No matter what, no crying child shall be attended to before the hour of 6AM.

Some days, I revise that rule to be 6:30AM - depending on how well I am able to sleep through the tears.

I'd like to believe that this is the reason - as of late - that when I retrieve said crying child, bring him in bed, and attempt a cuddle - he squares his little shoulders to me, lunges straight for C, and proceeds to smother his father with open mouthed kisses and body slams.

But this wouldn't explain the pure adoration that persists throughout the day - the crying when C leaves the room, the huge smile when he returns, the undeniable truth - C is the favorite.

WTF?

When I first found out I was having a boy and - quite frankly - was a wee bit (initially) disappointed with the news - people comforted me by saying, "Oh no, just wait - little boys love their mothers."

Since that is clearly not the case, I am now being reassured with, "Don't worry, they go through phases - you'll be next."

Next? Well that's awesome - it's not exactly like there is anyone else in line.

The truth is - C spends more time with B than I do.  He works from home and - because of that - has access to the little bugger all day - plus, he's kind of just more fun. He's got some mad skillz in the animal noise making department - whereas Beckett doesn't seem to yet appreciate my discussions on table manners.

So I get it.

I guess.

But it all comes with a new-found fear.

What if homeboy doesn't like me that much?  I mean, let's be honest - I tend to polarize.

And then I remember that it's not a competition, he will indeed go through phases, and - if all else fails - I'm not above bribery - I'm in sales, after all.

Twins