Stephanie's Swan Song

Last night was the final class that would be taught by our wonderful dance trance instructor, and the woman responsible for bringing DT back to Winston-Salem, Stephanie. I already waxed on and on about how much I love dance trance here and here, so I'll refrain from repeating myself... Plus it's safe to say anyone who follows me on Facebook or Twitter knows that I'm a teeny bit obsessed with it.

This is really more about Stephanie though, and saying good-bye to her. I've never participated in an exercise class before that became more of a community and I've never had a group ex leader who has become a friend. That speaks to the kind of person Steph is and the impact she's made on the community at our YMCA. She brought a class that very few people had ever heard of, is not exactly easy to jump right in and pick up, and turned it into a 5-time a week, packed-room class. I'm excited for her that she and her husband are headed back to Florida, where her family lives and where she will be pursuing her dream to get her Master's but we will certainly miss her.

The Best Season of My Life

At the beginning of this month, I quit my job. I wasn’t due back until November, but I knew in my heart I wasn’t going to return so I decided to cut my losses and let my office know so we could both move on. This didn’t come as a huge surprise to those who knew me best, but when it came right down to making that final phone call it turned out to be harder than I thought.

I wasn’t always sure I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. In fact, if you had asked me in college I would have assured you I would not be staying home. (I also expected to get married sometime around 30 – shows how good at predicting the future I am!) I always said I wanted to have the opportunity to choose and I’m blessed beyond belief that our circumstances did allow me that and that my husband supported my decision. Once I got pregnant, I was about 98% sure I’d be staying home… but there was still that 2% of me that wanted to leave the door open to make a choice. Which is how I found myself hanging on to my job even as my paid leave ended after 6 short weeks.

The 2% of me that wasn’t sure was having a hard time letting go of a thread of myself – my independent self, my bread-winning self, my “hey I went and got a Master’s degree, shouldn’t I be using it?” self. But these are mostly matters of pride. I knew in my heart I wanted to be home with Bo, and my reasons for returning to work were more about external judgments and perceptions than what I truly felt was right for me and for our family. When it came right down to it, my deciding factor was realizing that I’ll always have my education (or can get more), I’ll always have a passion or interest in my field (or another one) and there will always be potential to work. (Yes, I believe this is true even in our current employment state.) I’ll never, ever have the opportunity to witness first hand the daily growth of my firstborn child.

That’s not to say there’s a right or wrong answer to the decision to go back to work or stay home, and even my feelings on it weren’t black or white. If I had loved my job and going there each day provided me with a senses of fulfillment or leaving would have interrupted my ability to reach certain career goals, I think the decision would have been much harder. I still waver on the decision some days… but what affirms my decision is ultimately how happy I am. Right now, at this stage in my life, at home I feel content and blessed.

These last 11 weeks have been the best season of my life. And that says a lot – I’ve had a very happy and fulfilling life and have loved many stages of it. There’s also a lot that you give up the moment you become a mom and it’s hard sometimes to reconcile those losses. You give up feeling well-rested (will I ever, again?), the ability to just run to the gym or a coffee shop whenever you want, you give up your body, time spent with friends, large chunks of your bank account and a huge piece of your sanity that is now devoted to a section of thought called “incessant worrying that harm will come to your child and you won’t be able to stop it/fix it.” And despite the fact that every single mother I’ve met had told me being a mom would be the hardest thing I ever did but the best thing – I didn’t understand that until I spent a few weeks at home with my son.

And to be honest, it took a few weeks. The first couple weeks, Bo felt more like a baby bird to me than my own child. I felt like I was on a cycle of feed, entertain, then employ every available tactic I could think of to lull him back to sleep. But over the weeks, we found a rhythm together. The days (and nights!) become easier, he became more responsive (smiles!) and each day when I think I loved him the most I could yesterday, I find it’s grown a teensy bit more.

I just know there’s no place I’m supposed to be right now than safely guiding and teaching this child about his world. Teaching him to sleep (!!), how to lift his head, how to stick his tongue out. Teaching him that he is safe and secure and so loved. There is a quiet and gentle pace to our days together – something I know I will never have again and I’m cherishing now. The next time I have a newborn, there will be a busy toddler running around and I’m quite certain quiet and gentle will not describe the rhythm of our days.

With every big change in life, even good ones, there is loss. It was harder than I thought to say good-bye to my job (and my paycheck) and the freedom to work out at whatever time of day I wanted and the opportunity to blow dry my hair every day and sleeping in on Saturdays. It was hard, but it has been so, so worth it. I heard that so many times it began to feel like a cliché, but now I understand that sentiment inside and out.

This is indeed the best season of my life right now and I can’t imagine it being any other way now.

My Redneck Baby

It occurred to me the other day that my son was going to grow up as a Southerner. 

There’s nothing wrong with this. It might mean that he wants to drive a pick up truck, or go hunting with his Dad (ehh) or wear sunglasses on Croakies and pink seersucker shorts to football games. I’m okay with all that.

Because it also means he’s going to say things like “yes ma’am” without the slightest hint of sarcasm, and he’ll hold doors open for his girlfriends, and he’ll intercept women putting their shopping buggies away to do it for them. He’ll do all these things because he’ll grow up seeing his Daddy do them and he’ll just know that those are the right things to do.

And the first person he can practice his Southern hospitality good manner habits on?

His momma, of course.

Walking in Memphis

Has anyone ever visited Memphis and not had that song stuck in their head all day?

Matt and I went to Memphis this weekend! It was our first weekend away from the kiddo and when we left that morning, I had such mixed emotions. My stomach was churning with sadness to say good-bye, even though I knew he was in great hands with my mom. But I was also really excited to have an entire weekend to hang out with Matt – not to mention the uninterrupted nights of sleep that awaited me for the first time in 10 weeks!

One of my friends from high school, Karl, was getting married this weekend. When he first told me the date, I wasn’t certain we’d be able to go but promised him I’d try. Karl sang at my wedding and has been one of my closest friends for almost half my life, so I really wanted to be there. Bo arriving a few weeks early definitely made it easier and about a month ago Matt and I decided to go for it and buy our plane tickets. We sort of figured the first time away from him was going to be super hard whether he was 10 weeks old or 10 months old. And with my mom enthusiastically agreeing to baby-sit, off we went!

We arrived in Memphis around mid-day on Friday and went off in search of the world famous Rendezvous barbecue. It was delicious (dry-rubbed pork ribs) but as a NC loyalist, if I had to choose one kind of pork BBQ to eat the rest of my life, I’m still choosing pulled with a vinegar sauce.

After lunch we just wandered around the area of our hotel (Union Ave/Beale St) since our room wasn’t ready yet. Once we could check in, we pulled the blinds shut and did what any couple would do being away from their new baby for the first time ever.

Took a three hour nap.

It was glorious and gave us the energy we needed to go out that night. I had made dinner reservations based solely on a location/rating filter on Yelp at a place called Flight Wine Bar. The idea sounded intriguing to me – the whole menu was based on the concept of flights, like flights of wine. So you could have a salad flight – a trio of mini salads – or an appetizer flight, dessert flight and even the entrees were available as flights. (You could also have them regular size, which is why I picked the restaurant because Matt’s not a huge fan of tapas.) We both ended up doing entrée flights – I had the seafood entrée which consisted of a mini lobster thermidor, a scallop with a fried quail egg on top of polenta and a small bowl of shrimp and grits. Matt had a flight with a small bison filet, a piece of halibut and the lobster thermidor. It. Was. Amazing. It was the perfect amount of food – I was full but not uncomfortable (which definitely would have happened had we allowed the waiter to convince us that we needed the dessert flight too). And it was delicious. If you’re ever (walking) in Memphis, go go go.

After dinner, we headed back to the hotel to meet my high school bestie Krissy who had just arrived, spent some time catching up with her over a glass (or two) of wine and then headed back out to a bar on Beale St to meet up with the wedding party after their rehearsal. It was like a mini high school reunion, where I got to catch up with so many of my favorites who I rarely get to see. This is one of my last HS friends to get married, so I realized this was the last time I may get to see a lot of these people in one place together save for maybe some reunions. I’ve known Karl since we were 14 and have been close with his whole family throughout the years, so it was awesome to get to see all of them – parents, siblings and even cousins who I’ve met through the years. Karl’s mom describes our friendship like this: “They went to the Valentine’s Dance freshmen year and Meggy wore red shoes.” This is about accurate, but what she doesn’t mention is my footwear made his very-preppy sister a little dubious about my judgment. (In all fairness to Jen, my high school year included many questionable fashion choices. Think skater jeans and baby doll t-shirts. Every bad fashion choice of the mid-90s.) Anyways! We managed to remain close all through high school, college and living in DC post college, and I fell head over heels with his future bride when I first met her a few years ago. There’s nothing like knowing your friends are marrying people who bring out the best in them, and this is definitely one of those cases.

Valentine’s Day, 1997. Witness the hint of red shoes peeking out from the dress. Stellar.

After Karl and I had been friends for about a year, his sister forgave my fashion faux paus and got me a job at the coffee shop she worked at. Making early morning runs to Wegman to buy food for the day at the coffee shop cemented the beginning of our friendship. We worked together at the coffee shop and then on a canal boat together for 3 years, and eventually I followed her to Hopkins for grad school and we were roommates together in DC. She and her husband moved out to Seattle a few years ago, and it pains me that they live so far away – especially now that they have the cutest little boy who I would FINALLY get to meet that weekend.  When Jen and I first saw each other at the bar, there was some hugging and crying and some “omg we’re mommies now!!!!” as part of our reunion. Totally normal.  (Poor, poor, wonderful, patient Matt.)

Karl, Krissy, me & Matt  (I stole many of these photos from lovely Krissy, who actually brought a camera out with her that night.)

My Jennay (and an obnoxiously large beer. Oops)

Me, Janet (Karl’s mom) & Kris

The next day we set out to explore Memphis and took the Main St trolley down to a cute area called South Main District. We saw a crowd standing outside a restaurant and figured it must be good, so we added our names to the wait. It was called the Arcade Restaurant and turned out to be the oldest restaurant in Memphis. It was diner food, nothing spectacular and there were probably better & more interesting options around. Oh well! After our lunch, our plans to explore by foot were foiled by a heavy downpour so we got on the trolley and headed back to our hotel. Matt went off in search of a place to watch Wake football and Krissy & I grabbed some lattes (chai latte 2 pumps pumpkin, of course!) and went back to the hotel to catch up on the last year or so of our life. Our timing was perfect, because we also got back to the hotel in time to meet Jen & Ryan’s little boy, Harlan. I love meeting my friends’ children. It’s like you immediately love this tiny little person, because they are extension of someone else you love. It’s the best. And Harlan (10 months old) was a drooly, smiley, wiggly little charmer.

Then after another brief nap, it was time for the wedding. The wedding was at the Memphis Zoo! Fortunately, even though it was rainy and chilly at the outdoor amphitheater where the ceremony was held, a pashmina and a glass of champagne before heading into the ceremony did the trick.

Staying warm at the ceremony

And the ceremony was absolutely beautiful. I don’t exactly know where we were – I think maybe the amphitheater is used for seal performances? But it was rustic and warm and cozy, despite the rain and chilly night. The ceremony – performed by Karl’s brother-in-law (and Jen’s husband) Ryan, was personal and sweet and touching. And I have never seen the groom happier in his entire life.

The reception was (thankfully) indoors and shared a glass wall with the polar bear exhibit. All weddings should have a polar bear exhibit.

The reception was just a few hours long, and after stuffing ourselves with Memphis-style hor d’ourevers like (more!) barbecue and mini fried green tomato sandwiches and sweet potato bisque, we made our way back to the tram to head home. Except instead of heading home, I got a text from the ceremony officiant himself telling me the location of the after party. So… off we went! Here is where Matt is smarter than I am: when you have the opportunity to sleep for 8+ hours in a hotel room and you are returning home to a small infant, you should take it. Except it was, as I said before, one of the last times I felt like I’d see so many of my high school friends in one place and I wanted to soak up every last moment with them. I did and I can’t say I regret it – even though the alarm going off for our flight was brutal the next morning. But my heart feels happy and full when I think of those extra few hours I spent getting to catch up and talk to old friends. There is just something special about being with the people who have known you for so long. I formed such strong bonds with these people in high school, that even though I haven’t talked to many of them in years and our only connections have been “liking” each other’s lives through Facebook – we picked right back up where we left off. 

So despite the absolute exhaustion I created for myself Sunday for our travel back and missing my little guy like crazy – thank goodness for FaceTime – it was a great weekend away and I’m so very glad we were able to be there.

Although, I have to say I am a little disappointed I did not see the ghost of Elvis on Union Ave.

Meeting the Greats

Today we took Bo home to Lincolnton for him to meet his great-grandparents, Matt’s Nanta and Pa. Matt grew up next-door to his Nanta and Pa, and they were practically a second set of parents for him. I knew they were beyond excited to meet their grandson’s son and it was, of course, a very joyful first meeting.

At one point, Matt was outside with his Pa and it was just me, Libby (my mother-in-law) and Nanta sitting there. Libby was holding Bo, and Nanta was looking at Libby. The room was quiet, with everyone’s focus on the smiling and cooing face a baby. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to look at your own child holding her grandchild.

There’s something about a new baby that just makes you take pause and remember the importance of family and the lines you’ve come from. And as cliché as it all is, it makes you realize we’ve all started off from the very same place and if we’re lucky, we start our lives being held in the arms of many different people who love us and are just excited we’ve shown up in the world.

BDE

Sometimes things just go your way.

My mom arrived yesterday to baby-sit Bo while we go to Memphis this weekend (ahhh) and asked me if I had anything I wanted to go out and do this morning to take a little break.

So, I decided to treat myself to a little gel mani…

And on the way, I stopped at Starbucks for my new favorite drink (nonfat chai latte with 2 pumps pumpkin spice) (which gives me anxiety to order because of the pumps pumpkin) (but I do it anyways because it’s so good.) I was trying to pay for my drink with my Passbook and the guy couldn’t get it to scan… so he eventually just decided to give it to me for free.

Free beverage? An hour to myself to get a mani? Morning is off to a pretty good start.

On my way home, I decided to run into Harris Teeter to grab a few things for my mom while she was baby-sitting. Since I’m not allowed to pay her, at least I can show my gratitude with good coffee creamer and Greek yogurt. While I was perusing the wine section for sales (always), I discovered one of my favorite Zinfandels was 50% off. Yes please!

When I called to check in, my mom told me not to hurry home… so I took that as an invitation to pop into Ann Taylor Loft. I didn’t really have anything I needed but shopping solo is a rarity so why not. It was super crowded for a Wednesday at noon and I couldn’t figure out why. There was a line for the dressing room and people seemed to be going in with their arms loaded. I finally asked someone what was going on and she showed me her printed off coupon that said “Flash Sale! Today Only: Entire Purchase 50% off 12pm-7pm.”

WHAT THE WHAT. I was able to pull the coupon up on my phone and did a little damage. It was hard to resist that sale given one of their colors this season is old gold (aka tailgate clothes!). I’ve been resisting buying clothes right now since I’m still about 2 sizes bigger than my pre-baby weight and don’t hope (intend!) to stay here, so I hated to buy real clothes at this size. However, last year I wore my ATL jean leggings to pieces since they are the perfect jean for tucking into a riding boot and I knew there was no way a pair of denim leggings in my regular size was going to make it past my knees. With the 50% off sale, I didn’t feel so bad buying a new pair of my favorite pants in my bigger size. At the very least, you’ve gotta feel good about yourself even if you are rocking a little extra baby weight, right? Right.

And the best part of my day? Coming home to a happy and well-rested little bubba and a very content Grandma. Best day ever.

Smile

I felt like I had been waiting for Bo to smile from the moment we brought him home from the hospital. I  knew that that milestone takes about 8 weeks to arrive but I was so impatient. I just couldn't wait to see that little face crack into a grin. As we approached week 7, I kept seeing what I thought were hints of a smile but they were quick and fleeting.

Then one morning we were playing on the activity mat in early morning light and his little face just broke out into the biggest grin I had ever seen. I froze and tears sprung to my eyes. I immediately knew all those other smiles I had seen were not the real thing and this was IT. I couldn't take my eyes off that precious face with a huge grin on it and luckily for me, once Bo started smiling he didn't stop.

I ran downstairs to get my camera and hoped that this new trick wasn't going anywhere. I could not get enough of this new happy little face. Now, nearly 3 weeks of big, eye-crinkling, gummy smiles later, it is just as sweet as the first time I saw it. I have loved my son the moment I laid eyes on that pink wrinkled body, but it literally makes my heart explode in my chest when I see his face crack into a smile.

It's the best thing I've ever seen in my life.