Notes From Home Plate

Isaiah and Love

Published on by Lisa

I am listening to Isaiah gulp down his milk.

He is in the other room with Nick. The strains of the television are loud, but they still cannot drown out the long sighs and squirms and squeaks of our little one. As I write this, though I cannot see him, I know he is draining his bottle, staring at the intricate patterns of the ceiling, and kicking his legs into the air.

Isaiah is 9 weeks old. Nick and I can scarcely believe it. I cannot imagine the level of disbelief I will be in when he is 9 months, 9 years or 19 years old. Those days will come, but for now, I just watch and observe my big little guy, chasing the winter blues away – which are so common for Clevelanders – with his rainbow wide smile and fat rolls on his wrists and ankles.

My father recently commented that from the photos I have taken of him, it’s obvious that Isaiah is the love of my life. And I couldn’t agree more. He’s the love of OUR lives – Nick and mine. Every little thing he does evokes a reaction from us that reminds me how I was when I was falling in love with Nick. All the tiny details of your beloved’s existence seem to burn into your memory. Nothing seems as interesting or intriguing as what is happening in their world. Life seems more exciting when you know you are going to see this person and when you see their smile…ahhhh, it’s like the world was just reborn, everything’s new and beautiful again.

Isaiah has moved the furniture in our hearts and has promptly and decidedly plopped his round little bottom into the middle of it. He takes up every inch we have of energy and attention, laughter and frustration, sleep and concern. This is the transition of parenthood, I assume. You begin to learn to live outside yourself. Love of self still continues, obviously (and necessarily), but the center of well-being shifts. It’s no longer contained in my life, it exists in this chubby 22 inch body who cannot do anything but need, cry, and wiggle. And somehow, incredibly, this person also delivers immeasurable joy.

Sweet Isaiah, these 9 weeks have been life-changing. Your father and I will never be able to adequately explain how nuts we are about you. I hope you know that you have introduced us to a new and deeper kind of love that we never knew before. Not only have you brought this love out of us for you, but it has also further deepened our love for one another.

Gluttony, Maybe

Published on by Lisa

So, the little Gerber Face received ashes today. I mean, THANK GOD, because it’s been a little over 3 weeks since his baptism and he really needed to be straightened out before things got too out of hand. You saw his Valentine’s Day picture, right? Flipping the camera off like he’s a deranged teenager already? My sweet boy is getting a little too edgy for me. So, hopefully the ashes will set him straight. “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel,” are mighty good words to live by.

But what sin (other than the Valentine birdy he gave me) can this sweet cherub commit? Vanity? No. Rage? Hardly. Greed? Nope. Envy? Never. Sloth, pride, lust? NO.

Gluttony?

Mhm, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllll….

What do you call one’s inability to stop drinking milk? Borderline gluttonous behavior?

He’s too new to sin, but it’s good to have received ashes nonetheless.

He behaved like an angel, of course, throughout all of mass, and even for the soup and faith discussion we attended after mass. Nick was leading a discussion about Lent and prayer. Isaiah was like a little Lenten prayer all on his own – so quiet, holy, pure, and awesome.

So begins 40 days of meditation and fish Fridays. Nick and I decided that although we think he would try to participate as a devout Catholic, we’re not going to let him fast this year.

Who Doesn’t Love a 4am Wake-up Call?

Published on by Lisa

All the little things I never understood before about parenting, I am quickly beginning to understand now.

I used to look at parents of babies and wonder how in the world they can keep their head on their shoulders when a baby is crying like it’s the end of the world Answer: you get used to it.

At parties or gatherings of any sort, how do mothers simultaneously socialize, balance a plate of food in one hand, baby on the other arm, and smile? Answer: women are capable of anything.

Reuseable diapers seem like a good idea. Answer: They’re not.

Why do parents keep a million framed pictures of their babies? Isn’t one enough? Answer: You can never have too many pictures of Baby.

How do people wake up in the middle of the night to take care of the endless needs of a child? Answer: Hormones and Love.

I do believe there must be some sort of hormonal explanation for my newfound ability to meet 3 or 4am head-on. Seriously, I was the type of person who could sleep through hurricanes and thunderbolts, loud music and alarm clocks. Give me a chair, bed, reclining anything and I will sleep. On land or on a plane, I even fell asleep while floating in a friend’s backyard pool in highschool.

I used to boast my sleep agility stories like war vet stories. I’ve fallen asleep propped up against a wall in a dentist’s office. In the back of a truck on a bumpy dirt road. On someone’s shoulder in front of a campfire. IN FRONT OF AN AIRLINE CHECK-IN DESK THAT WAS REPEATEDLY CALLING MY NAME.

These instances are all true.

And now…

[le sigh…]

Now, one little meep or beep or squeak or tweek or gurgle or belch or cough or sniff or anything from my little one and my eyes are OPEN, head is rising off the pillow with one eye on the door the other enviously watching my dear spouse snore his life away into his pillow.

Isaiah has changed our lives. He’s brought us unimaginable joy and the wonderful gift of big and small laughs. E.g. Thinking about how he’ll probably be taller than me by the first grade or giggling over his tiny little toe peaking out from one of the sewn holes in a knit blanket.

There’s no further proof of the power of a first baby than the altered sleeping patterns of a night owl like myself.

Nick has a belief that the older one gets, the more prominent the true self becomes. For the most part, I firmly agree with him. However, my “true” self might be put on hold until Isaiah is 18 and away at college. Or my “true” self is permanently changed to reveal a mother who used to need a sledgehammer to the gut to wake up and now wakes at the slightest wind passing through the nursery. My “true” self loved sleep, so much so that I’d sleep through historical moments (the 2000 presidential election result/debacle) or natural disasters (tornado like conditions). Alas, my “true” self has changed. And that’s all due to my son.

Answer: I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Pic of the Week

Published on by Lisa

This is one of my favorite pictures from the past week.

Isaiah, near sleep, is laying on Nick’s chest. To keep him company and to shield Isaiah’s eyes from the overhead lamplight, Nick ducks under the blanket with him.

I melt. Just melt.

Too funny. Too cute. Too many delicate memories that have to be captured.

Growing

Published on by Lisa


I forgot to mention that on Isaiah’s last appointment, he got his Hepatitis B shot. Our awesome pediatrician, Dr. Cochran, grabbed one of his meaty thighs and stuck him with the syringe and pumped that stuff right into his little body. I watched his reaction.

Nothing at first and then the torture face appeared. Dr. Cochran promptly picked him and handed him to me. I wanted to wail out of pity for my sweet little pumpkin head but decided his tears were enough. I gathered him in my arms and he spit up all over me, old milk that was resting in his belly from breakfast and shot out of his mouth from being startled so suddenly.

After I secured him inside the folds of my arms, he quieted and I felt my first triumphant surge of motherhood. He stopped crying! I’m not only a milk machine to him, he is comforted by me. Well, I thought to myself, we do spend 19 out of 24 hours of the day together. The five hours are when I in the basement doing laundry, getting a shower, or sneak in a walk. All when Nick is available to watch him. With all that time together, he should be comforted by his Momma.

In other words, we’re bonding.

Isaiah’s smiles are increasing in frequency. Nick received his first dose of Isaiah’s ray of sunshine yesterday. It’s just adorable, simply adorable.

And if being covered in milk stains and learning quick diaper changing tricks isn’t enough excitement already, I must re-announce that my new website is still underway. I’ve been working with my webdesigner for months. The project has taken so long because of my pregnancy. It’s been a stop and go process, but we’re nearing the end. Two weeks or so from now, it shall be ready and shortly after that it will be unveiled.

So, remember that Notes from Home Plate will still be up and available, but, likely, I will cease writing on this blog in the next month or so and will shift my writing to the new website which will feature many different forms of writing and other issues in which I have vested interest. But don’t worry, you’ll still have a healthy dose of Isaiah updates and my poking fun at Nick.

As January trickles to an end and the world turns pink and red for February, I am in awe of how quickly time passes. My sweet boy is almost 6 weeks old! And as he grows out of his newborn clothes as quickly as the transforming Hulk ripped through his human clothes, our hearts are growing with him as he gains every ounce and stretches another inch.

Isaiah, nothing compares to you. Nothing.