Holiday cheer and a happy boy

(If no pictures show up, then you either need to log in to Flickr or become a contact on Flickr.)

November and December have been a whirlwind. From planning and executing more than a dozen holiday-related stories, columns, live chats, blogs and events at work to moving from our old apartment a mere 85 steps to a duplex, which now seems like world away from our old home.

Julian has been helping more in the kitchen, peeling onions and putting things in the pot. He's developed quite the sweet tooth; he usually wakes up in the morning and goes to the freezer, asking politely for ice cream. After the move, Julian got a table and chairs, an easel, a rocker and his very own rug. He got to play with markers and the easel for awhile, until ripping out the ink-saturated tips was more fun than coloring with them. We also put the bars on his crib back on after a week of trying out the toddler bed, and we're all sleeping much better because of it.

We're going to Missouri the day after Christmas, but until then, I have a few last minute things to wrap up at work, including a column about what I'm looking forward to in 2009, which inevitably means I'll have to reflect on 2008. I thought that deluge of holiday food coverage would make me weary this far into the season, but it's quite the opposite. So far, this has been one of the best Decembers I can remember. Lots of good times and fun people. A happy family. Oh yes, and good food.

A (not really all that terribly) troublesome toddler

With his 18 month birthday, Julian officially entered toddlerhood this week, but to Ian and me, it's been a long milestone coming. He's been kissing, crawling, climbing, "no"-ing, "juice"-ing, laughing, playing, tickling, swimming -- all those toddler things that either make you melt or make you crazy. We've found parenthood this book of chapters that get both easier and harder the further you get along.

For example, he sleeps and sleeps, which we're eternally grateful for, but when he's up, he's up, and you don't really get a break until he's sleeping again. Before, when he was waking up and breastfeding and such, you could (relatively) go about your business. Not that this is different than any other kid in history, but when you're in it, you really understand this for the first time. You also start to understand that as soon as you *get* it, it all changes and it's like the first day of class all over again.

It's been long days for Ian while I'm at work, but he's figuring out how not to lose his sanity and still be a full-time parent, a feat I have so much respect for. And I go through the quintessential working mom emotions: feeling guilty for not spending enough time with Julian on one hand and on the other hand feeling slightly ashamed of the relief that sometimes accompanies walking out the door and into my other life.

It's been hard for me to balance my full-time work and also to alleviate some of the stress of his full-time work. And equally difficult, Ian's on call nearly every day for whatever strange schedule or event that comes up that takes me away from him and J.

But it's such a marvelous way to spend your days.

Our neighbor Fern, the one with no short-term memory who walks her dog Lucky about a dozen times a day, always reminds us of what a wonderful life ahead we have. "Don't you feel sorry for people who don't want to have children," she asks. "They don't know what they are missing out on."

She also always asks us when, not if, we're going to have another. That's a whole other story, a scenario I cannot possibly imagine right now. Our plates are full, and we're happily busy and occupied with one dog and one child (who just yesterday started saying sometime similar to "good girl" to Shiva).

For all the energy it takes to raise a child, you get it back tenfold, not over the course of a lifetime, but in the span of a few minutes or seconds, in moments like the one below, when Julian got to play with his cat friend, Toby.

It's the hardest job we'll ever do, and it ain't over yet.

Exiting the recovery zone

I haven't posted much on what Julian's turning one has meant for me. It's been a few weeks since the big day, which really wasn't that big of deal. I didn't expect any revelations to come immediately, but a few have come in the time since.

I feel like the first year of Julian was a recovery zone. Maybe it was the C-section that really knocked me off guard physically for the first couple of months. Or maybe all mothers feel this. Everything was off because everything was new. The first few (dozen?) times you go to the grocery store with the baby, it's a strange adventure. Same with going to visit your parents or friends. It's easily six months before the things you did before feel remotely "normal" but even then, it seems a vaguely familiar version of your pre-baby life. I think it took even more months for life with Julian to feel as natural as life without him did. I mean, we're still working on that, but it's leaps and bounds better than even just a few months ago.

The interrupted sleep I think really starts to get to you, too. And Julian is truly an all-star sleeper! I can't imagine what some of my mommy friends are going through with babies still waking up all night. It can really screw with your head. Just like the whiny, pick-me-up cry that Ian still cringes at. And I had my own aches and pains post delivery; I can only imagine the aches and pains that lingered for some of my fellow mommies.

It doesn't take a scientist to tell you that babies are so adorable, especially to their parents, because it makes them harder to resent for making life so difficult at times. But cuteness aside, there's something so intrinsically gratifying about raising Julian that makes all of the hardships easier. I tried to describe it to some of the What Not to Wear crew members who are contemplating babies, all of whom were over 30 and looking at my 24-year-old self like I was a nut for having a kid "so early." But they just didn't get it. Moving to Brooklyn, giving up their Manhattan lifestyle were foremost on their minds. I tried to delicately tell them that post-baby, those concerns that seem like such monumental hurdles to parenthood become insignificant.

It sounds like I had an awful first year of motherhood, doesn't it? Being on the other side of baby's first year is just allowing me to be really honest with myself about how difficult it was. It's still challenging, don't get me wrong, but that year, that recovery zone, is just now starting to fade. I'm starting to be able to do more things for myself that I didn't feel I could last year. I'm taking some online classes, planning a family vacation and a wedding, renewing my passion for running, thinking about joining a fall softball league. Ian is, too. He's getting down and dirty with this recording unit to finish the album he started. He's able to juggle Julian and his own wants and desires a little better. We're both in consistently better moods despite the wrenches Julian may throw in our plans.

But no one could have told me about that year, just like no one can really tell me about the years to come. You have to live it for yourself to really understand it. Religious folks all my life have talked and talked and talked until they are blue in the face about faith. And if I go on and on about the topic of faith here, I will join them. Suffice it to say that having Julian has solidified my belief that faith is an action that others do not have right to doubt. We all have brains and ambition and instinct. So when Ricci volunteers in Senegal, my best friend from high school remarries a year after she divorces, the Shelton family prepares to welcome a wee brother or sister for Julian's baby friend Adeline and BAT picks up her life in Austin and moves to the sure-to-be-fabulous Steamboat Springs, Colo., wish them well. Acknowledge that they are living the life they intend.

I'd like to think that's what we're all trying to do here.

Since you've been gone...

While I'm at the musical confessions, here's another: I love Kelly Clarkson. I'm late to the Kelly game, but Ian really made me listen to Breakaway and I must admit how hard I fell. Since U Been Gone is a helluva song; we can thank Linda Perry for that. But, damn, does Kelly Clarkson have the pipes to pull it off. I'm wondering when a song like this every really gets old.



Yup, she's a badass.
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So the Baker-Smiths have taken the little rascal off our hands for a little while today. What did I choose to do with my kid-free hours? Sew random things that I'll probably give away for Christmas. It was awesome. Here's a glimpse of what I've made lately.




Those are oven mitts/puppets for my nephew Michael. Right now, he puts his socks on his hands when he plays in his toy kitchen. ("Hot, hot, hot," he says over and over as he opens and closes the oven.) I also made a sling for my niece Jenna, but I'm afraid it's going to be too small. You think when you're making kid stuff, 'Oh, I'll just make it smaller,' but this is the second children's thing I've made lately that's turned out borderline too small. Crap. There's nothing I hate more than having to use a seam ripper.
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I caught most of Project Ugly last night. Once again, nothing spectacular. I liked 2/3 of the winning collection, though. They had to use old trends in three new outfits. Of course, the guy who had to work with shoulder pads lost. What an awful idea those were. I wonder if that will be one of the few trends in history that never makes a comeback...

I feel it all

We are headed to the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex today for some quality family T-day time. Getting a late start, as you can tell. That's what happens when you have a dog to drop off and a load of laundry to do. I'll try not too hard to focus on the fact that we're breaking rule Numero Uno of traveling Broyles style: Do not burn daylight. Clearly, we're already http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifa Knox-Broyles household. We won't leave before noon. Unheard of = yes. Something I'm just going to accept and make the most of = yes.

Did y'all like that Golden State song? I'm a big fan of sharing music and new artists, so I'm going to try to post more songs on here. I love this so-called Web 2.0, where the goal is to give Internet users access to the tools they want/need to make the Internet work for them. Imeem is a perfect example. I googled "John Doe Golden State" and found exactly what I wanted: an mp3 with an option to embed the file and player on whatever page I wanted. People do the same thing with Myspace; I just use the Web site instead. Today, I go back to Imeem (See what happens when you deliver a product that someone wants? An instant fan and invaluable word-of-mouth advertising. Erin would be proud.) and dig around. I quickly stumble upon Miss Feist herself, who's been enjoying quite the surge in much-deserved popularity after this recent album, "The Reminder." Girl snagged herself an Apple commercial for chrissake.

Here's one of my favorite tracks off the album and you tell me what you think.



Been feeling pretty good lately. After that spate of sickness/fussiness from the kid, our momentum is back. Ian's been recording a lot lately. He's got some killer tracks laid down for some of those songs. "Very Phil Spector" he's calling his recording style. Old Phil Spector, right? Too bad most people of my generation will only know him because of this murder he's accused of. The Wall of Sound was his idea. Everything from hip hop to modern country uses it these days. All those layers of music on top of one another. Just makes things more interesting, more engaging. Ian's doing a really good job of that with his album. I even caught him using a capo to turn an electric guitar into a mandolin. That crafty kid.

Music is really both a curse and a blessing for him. Tortured artist is so cliche, but damn is it true. Recording can either put him in the best of moods or the worst. He just wants it to be so perfect.

.....

damn, since I started writing this post I read a refusing-to-nap Julian two books, gave him a bath, fed him some peaches, put away the dishes, filled the dishwater, burned the crap out of my thumb and two fingers, stepped barefoot in peaches and realized exactly how much work it will be to take the family away from home for two and a half days.

My initial cheery disposition has been sucked from me (temporarily, I hope). Maybe I'll remember to pack some more in addition to the hundred other things a good mom is required to remember to ensure we make it through the end of the trip, everyone fed, clothed, well-rested and intact. Uff.

Wish me luck.