Tis the Season to be Thankful...Fa la la la la...

“I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes, - and the stars through his soul.” -Victor Hugo

"To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour" -William Blake

I get updates of news headlines on my phone each morning and I can't help but notice a sad trend. All of the updates are shocking, sad, dismal or downright depressing. The economy is crashing, those in power are secretive and corrupt, babies having babies, epidemics, sickness…the list goes on and on. As I sat in my son's room and rocked him to sleep the other night, feeling his soft breath against my neck as he nuzzled in close, and feeling the usual warm, rush of love and thankfulness that fills me when I am sharing quality time with him, I wondered why there are no headlines that glaringly announce to us the good things in life. Personally, I would much rather receive updates notifying me that yet another person pitched in to help paint a school, helped an elderly person across the street or donated a kidney to a family member in need rather than hear only about the negative.

Well, as the holiday season approaches (and in the spirit of being the change I wish to see in the world) I want to take a few moments to recognize some of the heroic people and magnificent things in my life that I am grateful for. These people and things may not ever get to share top billing with a shocking story on the front page of a newspaper, but they are groundbreaking, life changing parts of my existence and just as momentous to me as any news story may be to the rest of the world. If I have little in the way of material possessions and yet am so blessed and my life so enriched, then I know that there must be many like me, who, though they might never have their story shared with the world, will leave the world a better place than they found it just by being here and being happy and kind. So, this holiday season, here are is a short list that highlights a few of the many things I am grateful for:

I am grateful that my father lives close to me and that we are able to create many wonderful memories and share much laughter together. I am grateful that my 93 year old grandfather is alive and well. I am grateful that my extended family consisting of my mother, aunts, uncles, grandmother, and numerous cousins are healthy, happy and thriving on their respective life paths I am grateful that my family members and friends that are having a hard time have a wealth of family and love surrounding them to help them through. I am eternally grateful for the love and dedication of many close friends that, regardless of years and miles have held me close to their hearts and held me up in their prayers to help light my way when I feel lost and to share in my most joyful of times. I am grateful for the love of my husband who knows me through and through, accepts my faults, celebrates my accomplishments and grieves my losses as I do his. I am grateful for a roof over my head and a heater that works well in the Winter, two able hands that can work and two functioning legs that can take me there. I am grateful for a stable (mostly clear headed) mind that lets me look beyond whatever trials are occurring momentarily and allows me to focus on what is possible for the future. I am beyond grateful for the gift of my son who is happy, healthy and thriving and who makes every day feel like a day for celebration.

Making this list just confirms to me that all the little daily things that I may sometimes take for granted are the things that, when looked at collectively, are truly what life is made up of, and that without, I would not be who I am and would certainly not have the richness of spirit and quality of life that I have enjoyed thus far. And for me, that is headline news any day :)


Gratefully Yours,

-New Mommy in Town

To Santa or Not to Santa...That is the question!

A couple days ago we took our 1 year old son to the mall to see Santa. this being our first Santa outing (well, since my husband and I were young of course) we were not sure what to expect, and, to make things even more exciting, we went to see Santa wholly unprepared for any sort of emergency such as desperate snack needs, the re-emergence of a horrible diaper rash or preparation for the realities of waiting in an hour and a half long line while wearing 3 inch heels. The night started out on a hopeful note. I straightened my hair, put on a nice dress, did my makeup, put on a nice pair of earrings and even brought along a festive Santa hat to wear in, what I imagined would be, our perfect family photo with Santa. I dressed our son up in a cute little pin stripe suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, packed the diaper bag and "walla" we were ready to go. Once we got in the car, it dawned on me that maybe things would not go quite as smoothly as planned. In our rush to get to the mall before the crowds, I realized that we had not packed any snacks and Giovanni had not eaten in a couple hours. "Oh well, I thought, just a quick trip in, snap of the camera and we're out of there. How hungry could he possibly get between now and then?" Next, my husband informed me that we did not have a camera to actually take a picture but assured me that everything was OK and that he had his phone on him and we could take a picture with that. When we arrived at the mall, even though we had gotten there "early", there was a long line that consisted mainly of grumpy, underdressed patrons with several dogs barking at one another and pulling at their leashes while their weary owners cast sympathetic looks at each other. My husband, who hates crowds, began to get fidgety, Giovanni quickly followed suit. I offered to stand in line while they played on the playground. As they walked away I wished that I had not worn heels, or a dress, I wished that I had worn sweats. Still, I stood in line with the stroller, a huge umbrella (this being Portland, it was of course, pouring) three jackets (mine, my husbands and the baby's), my purse and the diaper bag. As I made my way through the line I maneuvered carefully to keep from toppling the stroller, spilling the contents of my purse, or impaling any small children with our dangerously large and pointy umbrella. When I got near the front of the line, I texted my husband and he arrived back just in the nick of time (no pun intended). Giovanni's suit was wrinkled, his shirt hanging untucked out of his pants and his hair was a mess. He also seemed more than ready to leave the mall. My husband took a test snapshot with his phone to find out the camera on his phone was not working. He began to shake and turn a little red. I offered to let the people behind us in line go ahead of us so that we could figure out the phone. I tucked G's shirt in, we got the phone working, OK...our turn...here we go. We walked up to Santa, he held his arms out to the baby, sat him on his lap and then...Giovanni lost his mind. The second he sat on Santa's lap, Giovanni's face turned bright red and he began squirming and screaming at the top of his lungs, tears rolling down his face. My husband snapped a picture (see sidebar) G kept screaming. I put on my Santa hat and stood next to him, G looked at me and screamed louder. My husband took another picture, I grabbed the baby and we left. Now, at this point, any sane parent would have quickly exited the mall but me, being the fearless (or perhaps clueless) individual that I am, decided that we should take one more family picture in front of a large tree before we left. Johnny tried to take one of me and Giovanni first. I put on my Santa hat and stood in front of the tree with our son. Giovanni arched his back and screamed like I had tried to rip off one of his toes. People were looking at us strangely. My husband suggested we grab something to eat and then try the picture thing again. We headed over to the food court and got G some grilled chicken and milk with a straw. In trying to feed him the chicken and use the straw to pour sips of milk into his mouth, we got milk and chicken juice all over his face, his suit, ourselves. Immediately after his hearty dinner of chicken and milk, G needed a diaper change and I took him onto the cramped, fluorescent lit changing room to find that an earlier diaper rash had re-emerged. He howled as I changed him, I bumped into the door, the table and most of all, I felt sweaty and like I might begin howling and crying myself. When I brought him out I can't even imagine what the two of us must have looked like, he with his tired, bleary eyes, stained, wrinkled suit and sad expression and me, red from sweating, hair beginning to frizz and limping in my high heels that had never been meant for standing for extended periods of time. I limped over to my husband and suggested we leave (after, of course, trying to get one final shot in front of the tree-Don't even ask me what I was thinking). We went over the to the tree and I snapped the final shot pictured above which I feel sums up the feel of the evening fairly well. So, the moral of the story is this. If you feel that perhaps your very young child might be frightened or daunted by the prospect of waiting in a large line only to be met at the end by the sight of a large, strange man in a big red suit with a huge beard then, by all means, proceed at your own risk. Hey, its not all bad, your child could love Santa or, you could get hilarious pictures of your child looking either happy, nervous, bewildered, or of them screaming their head off while Santa struggles to maintain a smile. But please, whatever you do, if this article has taught you anything, be sure to bring an actual camera, dress comfortably, be prepared for a long line and surly patrons and, for the love of all things holiday...BRING SOME SNACKS!!! To all a Good Night! -New Mommy in Town

A Blast from the Past...But Can it Last??

I met my first love when I was 14 years old. I was crazy about him from the minute I met him. Over the next five years...through high school and a little bit into college, our love would grow into something more serious than i believe most young kids experience. For one thing, I went to a continuation school the last year of high school. and my father, being especially lax about such things (or maybe just not having a clue as to how to handle such a free spirited, strong willed firecracker of a daughter) let me make the hour long train ride into Berkeley (where my sweetheart lived) approximately once a week. Once there I would stay for a few days at a time (until I had to return back to school) and my love and I would spend endless hours which turned into endless days listening to music, watching movies, hiking around the Berkeley hills, eating, giggling, exploring the city, passionately arguing and passionately making up. Being the strangely enlightened teenagers we were (he much much more than I) we saw a counselor a couple times a month for couples counseling, faithfully used birth control and visited the University campus and botanical gardens frequently for sightseeing and make out sessions. I had never known anyone like Jon. His parents were two very intelligent university professors and Jon was a well traveled vegan that spoke more than one language, listened to progressive music, meditated and was an amazing artist. In addition, he was sweet, kind, gentle, funny and I was head over heels in love with him. After high school, Jon went to Europe for 6 months and things began to fall apart. He met someone for a short time and I began meeting other people too. When he came back to the states he moved to Santa Cruz and I followed. He was enrolled in University of Santa Cruz and I was enrolled at a community college. We kept our relationship going for a time, but by then our feelings were muddled by so much time apart and confusion as to where we stood. After a year or two I met someone that would be a long term relationship (4 years) for me. I called Jon over to my house and ended things between us for good. he cried, I cried. we listened to Lauryn Hiill's "Keep It Tight" while he held me close and I breathed in his scent, thought about all our memories together and wondered if I was making a mistake. At the time, it seemed this was the right thing to do, and in hindsight, although the relationship I moved onto didn't last, and didn't end well either, I wonder if Jon and I would have fared better if we had stayed together, or if we would have ended up resenting each other or hurting each other by not sharing the same feelings or by meeting other people and moving onto other serious relationships eventually. Either way, it was the end of an era for sure.

Today, I am married and I have a beautiful son. Although it is not always sweet words and tender feelings and there are, to be honest, some things about my husband I downright do not like, there is much love and a long history between us. Plus, the addition of family, children and going through real life hurdles together, does make you stronger and add to your feelings of devotion for your spouse.

This being said, I was going through an old box of stuff today and came across a small stack of letters that Jon had written to me while he was in Europe. Reading through them brought back a lot of nostalgia. In his letters, his love and devotion to me are clear and his words are full of the strong, hormone fueled feelings that only teenage love can produce. He speaks of us being soulmates and therefore loving each other enough to feel that we are connected at the soul. He talks about me being amazing, strong, and in some ways, fragile. He speaks of our love being intense, potent and the best feeling in the world. Reading through these letters made me feel good that someone had held such intensely wonderful feelings for me but it also made me sad that real life does at some point have to intervene. I got to thinking, why is it that feelings that intense can't be maintained for a lifetime? I mean, I believe that, to some extent they can. When my husband is not around me for a length of time, I miss him terribly, but at the same time, I have responsibilities and bills to pay and distractions and I cannot just lay in bed and mope all day thinking about how much I miss him. I asked my dad if he thought that the feelings of first teenage love can last and he replied, "I don't think so, I mean, people that have been together 60 years, you don't see them just sitting in each others laps and kissing and staring at each other all the time, the guy is usually just sitting on the couch watching TV and the woman is doing whatever she is doing."

I think I realized right then why a first love is so special and why it is rare, maybe even downright impossible, to ever capture that exact feeling again. When you are young and unencumbered, the only thing you have to focus on in the whole world is each other. You don't have bills to pay or a mortgage to worry about or kids diapers to change or teenagers eating everything in the whole house or an old cat pooping on the floor...again. The only scheduled time that is required is school time or time to see each other. When you are fighting it is because he looked at another girl too long, not because you overspent on your credit cards and don't know if you can pay your rent. So here is what I realized. No, love may never produce those same feelings without a boatload of hormones running through you, but maybe it can be even better (and much more real than that). Maybe the feeling you get when you look back on your life and you have a gaggle of well rounded children and grandchildren, extended family, friends, neighbors and acquaintances that care equally about the well being of both you and your spouse and you have built a whole LIFE together with hard work and have worked equally hard at keeping your love alive, maybe THOSE are the ties that truly bind you together in a love built of not only passion but mutual respect, admiration and devotion to one another. And hey, that sounds pretty damn life altering, amazing, potent, and intense to me.

I am so glad to have known Jon and I will never forget our experiences together. We are friends to this day and I have nothing but love in my heart for him, for what and who he was, what we had, what and who he is and who he will become. He is amazingly talented and a beautiful person. Our experiences taught me so much and were invaluable at helping to shape me into the person I am today. We don't talk as often as I would like but I hope, more than anything that he is happy and that I made as big of an impact on his life as he made on mine. I hope that one day, I can dance at his wedding, meet his children and, when we are old, that maybe we will one day find ourselves sitting in rockers with our respective loves and family and can look back at our lives, look at each other and agree...that we sure did good :)

Much love to you and all whom you love, have loved and will love!

-New Mommy in Town

Misty, Water Colored Memories...

The days are going by so quickly and my little boy is growing up before my eyes. I am trying to capture every moment I have to sing to him, sit with him, rock him, play with him or just plain be with him. There are so many precious, picture perfect memories of him already that I carry with me throughout my day. The feel of his soft skin against mine as I take him out of the bathtub and wrap him in a big, soft, fuzzy towel. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he smiles up at me in the morning. The way he arches his back and turns to look up at me with his soulful, trusting eyes when I am rocking him. At his 4 month checkup a couple weeks ago, they announced that my boy is now 15 lbs and 23 inches long. This just drove home to me how fast he is growing and that soon, he will be a rough and tumble toddler and then a little boy and soon a man. I am amazed every day at the life that we have created and at how insanely lucky I am to be a part of witnessing and directing that life. I am also amazed at my capacity to love and how much better of a person being a mother has made me. My heart has been stretched to new limits and no matter how tired or frustrated or plain worn out I am, when I hold my child or I see his beautiful smile, I can't help but feel myself begin to smile and my heart begin to melt.

Our boy is beginning to play with his toys (and by "playing" I mean grabbing them and stuffing them into his mouth). He is beginning to roll over, laugh, stick his fingers, bib, blanket, in his mouth, "talk" to us by emitting long, low pitched groans, hiccups and coughs. He smiles all the time, loves to play and is the center of his mommy and daddy's universe. We are starting him on Rice cereal this week and soon he will be eating solids. He is beginning to be able to sit up on his own and he holds his head up perfectly. Last week we went to JC Penney and had portraits done of Giovanni and his stepbrother Anthony who was here visiting for a week. It did this mommy's heart good to see my "boys" playing, laughing and loving each other. Giovanni LOVED his half brother (Anthony lives in Southern California and had not yet met Giovanni) and was smiling anytime he was near, Anthony was gentle and loving with the baby and was a HUGE help to me during his visit.

Coming up in April Giovanni and I will be going on his first plane ride to California to visit his Great grandma, great grandpa, cousins, aunties, uncles and Grandma Cynthie. We are creating memories that I will remember forever and I am so grateful for this time. While I do wish once in a while that I could slow time and keep him small and snuggly for a bit longer, I am glad that I am taking the time to enjoy all that is happening and I am breathlessly awaiting the next milestone discovery or achievement in his life.

With wonder and awe I watch my little one grow! Nothing can compare to being Giovanni's Mommy! :)

-New Mommy in Town

TIRED

Last night was one of those nights :(

The baby went to bed at 7:30pm (it was either let him sleep or let him scream in my ear until 9, I chose to let him sleep)

I went to bed at 11 (so tired but couldn't sleep)

The baby woke up at 2am, by then he had slept 6 and a half hours (hooray for him)

Fed the baby, put the baby back to bed, I went back to bed (couldn't fall asleep until 4, maybe I'm an insomniac)

The baby woke up at 5 (I almost cried)

I comforted the baby and went back to bed

the baby went back to sleep until 6

I got up with the baby

The baby stayed awake until I went to work at 8

I came home at 4, the baby was crying. Took him upstairs to comfort him, he threw up on me twice. went to give him a bath, he peed on me on the way to the tub. sat down and fed him, he started fussing, swaddled him, he fussed. Laid him down, he began losing it. rocked him, sang to him, swayed him, whispered to him, he cried and cried. Put him in his swinging chair. Silence. for five minutes. He dirtied his diaper and began crying again. So so tired.

And the funniest part is that I have gone weeks like this and I have not given up, or passed out, or had to check myself into some sort of psychiatric facility for exhaustion. Impressive.

Have I ever been this tired? Dead tired? Sooooooooo soooooooo tired? I mean really tired?

Oh my.

One of those days that makes me realize, that I am so much stronger than I ever realized.

-New "tired" Mommy in Town




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To Sleep or Not To Sleep...

My son is now 3 months old. About a week before his 3 month birthday, I decided that co-sleeping was no longer an option, not only did my son seem uncomfortable as he grunted, gasped and kicked my husband and I all night, desperately trying to free himself from the positioning wedge we had him propped up on (acid reflux be damned) but two and a half months of getting an average of three hours of sleep (and not consecutive hours either mind you) was turning me into a complete wreck I couldn't think straight during the day, was losing patience with both my son and my husband and falling behind at work.

I spoke with my husband and then looked up sleep methods for training infants to sleep in their cribs. I decided to try the Ferber method. The Ferber method advises parents to pick a time when they are not desperate for sleep and to begin putting their child in his or her own bed in increasing 5 minute increments. For example, the first night you would put your child down in their own bed and leave the room. If they cry, you wait five minutes before going in, comforting them, putting them back down and leaving the room again. If they cry again, you wait 10 minutes before going in, comforting them and getting them back down. You max out the time that you will let them cry at 15 minutes. The next night, you increase the length between visits in 5 minute increments (i.e. let them cry for 10 minutes, then 15, maxing out at 20).

The first night, the baby cried each time we left him. After an hour and a half of crying/comforting and crying again, the baby fell asleep on his own and slept five hours straight. The next night he cried intensely for 15 minutes before falling asleep, again for five hours. This night was the hardest because of the intensity of the crying. It does break any parents heart to hear their child crying, but my husband and I were determined that not only would sleeping in his own bed be best for the baby as he would be more comfortable and there would be less safety risks, but it would benefit us as well as I would be more rested, have more patience and would avoid losing my job due to mistakes caused by lack of sleep. By the third night, the baby did not cry when we put him in his crib and he again slept a full five hours. After he would sleep five hours I would change him, feed him, and rock him until he became sleepy before putting him back down again. I began noticing that he was happier during the day, was getting on more of a schedule and seemed well rested in the mornings. He also began taking his afternoon naps in his crib without fussing. After a week of sleeping from 9pm-3.am each night, he slept a full 8 hours. Heaven!My husband and I have our bed back again and I am no longer cranky, tired and absentminded all day from lack of sleep.

In my opinion, when a parent is ready and anxiety free enough to train their child to sleep in their own bed, I don't know why any parent wouldn't use this method. However, in reading blogs pertaining to this practice, it seems that there is a large percentage of parents that feel this method is cruel, scarring and traumatic to children. When I see my child's bright eyes and happy smile in the morning and see that he has had a comfortable nights sleep, I can't imagine how he is scarred by sleeping in his own bed. I also don't think he will remember a total of maybe two hours of crying as a baby for the rest of his life. I have talked to parents of two and three year old children that say they wish they had tried something like this earlier and complain that their toddlers are still sleeping in their parents bed and not sleeping through the night.

Obviously, it is every parents decision how and when they decide to try and get their children to sleep in their own beds but this route worked for us and has been a real blessing. Baby, mommy and daddy are reaping the benefits of of sleep filled nights and all are thriving because of it. Whatever it is that you choose to do, I wish every new mom lots of sleep, however you manage to get it. Happy mommies create happy babies!

Good Luck and Good Night

-New Mommy in Town

The Bjorn identity

Mothers. We come in all shapes and sizes, all different ethnicity's from all walks of life. Why then is it so easy for moms to be duped into thinking that we have to fall into the perfectly manicured, cookie cutter, Leave it to Beaver image of moms that is constantly being fed to us by the media, acquaintances or worst of all, our own inner "mean girl"?

The other day found my husband and I walking through a beautiful park, bathed in sunshine. You could not have asked for a more beautiful setting. The park included breathtaking redwoods, weeping willows and maple trees lining the banks of several small, mirror smooth ponds. I should have been ecstatic to be walking on my own two legs through such beauty with the man I love and our healthy, happy, beautiful baby boy. I should have not had a care in the world. Yet as we wandered, i couldn't help but compare myself to other moms and dads that I saw walking by. I saw two moms that were walking with their perfectly symmetrical baby Bjorn's strapped to their perfectly shaped bodies and I wondered why, when I strap my baby Bjorn on, it always seems to be at a bit of an angle, or the baby always seems to be hanging a little low. Why were their babies not fussing or spitting up on them. And how, in the world, did they manage to lose that baby weight so fast. couple after couple seemed to stroll by with their bright white smiles and their designer strollers, making me ever more aware of my tangled hair, tired eyes and second hand stroller. I thought about a woman i had met a few weeks before who told me that her son had had 100 people at his first birthday. I wondered if my son would be scarred for life by the fact that he might only have 10 attendees, or even worse just mom and dad and a homemade cake.

After we had returned home, I took some time to reflect on the things I had noticed and to weigh my insecurities against reality. Will my son grow up to be a horrible person because his Baby Bjorn hung slightly low and to the left? Will he look back on his second hand stroller with disgust and want nothing to do with me? Will he hate the thought of celebrating another birthday ever again because of the lack of attendance at his first. ummmmm...probably not. And even the fact that I was giving any breathing room to these silly thoughts and made up ideals was ridiculous. Who started the myth that we as mothers have to be perfect all the time, that without designer things, we're not just as good a mom as the next mom?

I have never been perfect, nor will I ever be perfect, nor do I believe that anyone or anything is perfect. So I will do my best and continue on with tired eyes and the occasional mop of unbrushed hair, I will stop comparing what I don't have and instead be grateful for what I do have. I will teach my son that it is what is on the inside, not the outside that is most important. I will do my best to teach him to be a good, wise, strong person and hope that it catches on. And, someday, should he ever pass someone in a park, holding a perfectly aligned Baby Bjorn, with perfectly white teeth, manicured nails, impeccable hair and an amazing "no one can tell that I just had a baby" body and stop to ask, "is that how you looked when I was little mommy?" I will tell him no. I will tell him that sometimes mommy was tired, or forgot to brush her hair, or walked out of the house without a stitch of makeup on, but that I never forgot what was really important: his happiness, his safety, his health. And when i tell him this, I won't feel even the least bit guilty about it :)

To imperfect mothers, everywhere

-New Mommy in Town

Giovanni Elijah Cabrera- The cutest baby on the block- and maybe in the whole world!

Of course I may be just a teensy bit biased!





Giovammi Elijah Cabrera- Est. 11/16/2009

Every day
Something new
A laugh, a smile
a lingering gaze.
You are growing so fast
and I am so amazed and honored
that I am able to bear witness
to the magic
that is your life!

-Giovanni's Mommy

Things Remembered

A small list of things that I don't want to forget about my baby boy-

• The way my baby smiles when I am taking esp good care of him or the way he smiles back at me when I smile at him.


• The way he looks with eyes full of wonder at new things/people


• His smell


• The warmth of his body when he's lying next to me or snuggling close


• His tiny feet and hands


• His big, beautiful eyes and his funny expressions


• The little gurgles, grunts and sighs he emits when trying to communicate with us


• The big, gulping breaths he takes when we are comforting him from a crying fit


• The brightness of his eyes when he first wakes int he morning


• His adorable little dimples


• Watching his hair and eyebrows fill in


• Tummy time


• Taking long walks with him


• His solemn little stares as he takes it all in


• His round cheeks and chubby little face


• Giving him baths and watching him happily splash around


• Hanging out and playing with him as he kicks his legs, waves his little fists and turns his head from side to side


• Seeing the kick he gets out of the smallest things (a bright toy, music he likes, an engaging book).

I am so looking forward to teaching him new things, introducing him to new experiences and watching him discover the world around him!!!

Here's to you my baby boy. To the person you are, the person you were (only two short months ago) and the person you will become. Every day with you is an adventure. I love you!

-New Mommy in Town

Time Flies

Teach, your children well

And feed them on your dreams

The one they pick

The one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why

If they told you, you would die

So just look at them and sigh

And know they love you..."

About a month ago, when I was in the throes of brand new motherhood and brooding over every cry, gasp and sigh that my baby emitted, I got a call from one of my favorite aunties, inquiring as to how I was doing. I admitted to her that I was struggling. A heavy combination of sleep deprivation, forgetting to eat and not having a chance to bathe as frequently as I was used to had left me wondering if I was cut out for the hefty job of motherhood. My aunt assured me that all new moms face these same thoughts and also told me that I would miss these times. "What?" I questioned her incredulously, "why would anyone miss THIS?" My aunt chuckled as she sagely replied, "I know it sounds crazy, but you will miss it. You spend the first few months bonding so intensely with your child and then you spend the next 18 years learning to let go."

These words struck a cord with me and, in the days and weeks that have followed, I have begun to see things differently. I have stopped looking at every cry as a reason to worry incessantly and rather have begun to really listen to his cries, notice his smiles and respond to his oohs and ahhs. In response I can tell that he is learning to trust me and he cries less and smiles more. He looks up at me and shows signs of being comforted and feeling secure. I have had to push myself to learn how to see things through the eyes of a child again and suddenly dancing around the living room to children's music or going to the park and looking at birds or reading books about the color blue don't seem like tedious silly tasks to me anymore but rather now seem like new adventures and learning experiences to look forward to and savor.

I have been striving lately to face each day as a chance to do something new and exciting (even if it is just strapping on a baby bjorn and sweeping the kitchen floor). Because, while changing poopy diapers all day or rocking a sleeping baby for hours or wiping drool off my baby's chin for the umpteenth time might not be what I would most like to be doing, each of these important task carries with it a moment that I will never have again and each moment carries with it a chance to teach my baby to trust, to learn, to feel secure. I have been blessed with the enormous responsibility of raising a child and I want to take that responsibility seriously. I may never have these small chances to hold my baby, or see his smile or play with him again, as none of us know what the future holds. These days will go quickly and soon, he will be walking, then talking, then he will be in school and making friends and learning to be his own person and all too soon, he won't won't want me to cuddle him or to rock him or sing to him.

So mothers, hold your children close. cradle them, protect them, sing to them, soothe them, set guidelines for them, teach them, love them. Take time every day to kiss them, play with them, tell them that you love them. That way, you can watch with pride as they grow into the people they will become and you will always have the memories of how you helped them along the way to warm your heart and bring them back to you, regardless of how far they may wander away from home.

May god bless all mommies (and daddies too) everywhere!

-New Mommy in Town