Dear Michael,

I had a feeling I might pause to acknowledge your twenty-fifth month because of the whole daily blogging thing, so here we are. Another month gone by. I haven’t pulled any photos off the camera lately, so you’ll just have to bear with me. And I don’t have a long drawn out letter to you today. But I wanted to mention just a few things.

You are becoming more and more articulate. You string words together that make sense. You often direct us with simple commands, “Mommy run,” “Daddy get,” “Mommy up,” “Michael ride,” “Daddy catch,” and so on. The “run” command is hilarious. Because then we have to run. And when we run, we circle the ottoman in the living room until you are laughing so hard you run into something or just fall down. Sure, I get tired and dizzy, but I can’t help chasing you when you ask me to run. It makes you so happy. Which makes me happy, too.

Some words you still don’t quite get. And I think I’ll really miss the mispronunciations when they’re gone. You still call the potty “poppy,” sleep comes out as “peeps,” and the best one is how you’ve reinterpreted “peek-a-boo” as “poo-kee.” You came up with this yesterday while we were on the phone with Grandma D. You hadn’t been in the best of moods, so I snuggled with you in our Ergo, and we ended up playing peek-a-boo with the sleeping hood. It cracked you up big time. Later, you tried to put the Ergo on yourself. It didn’t quite work, but I find it very touching that you still like to be worn close to your mama.

I’m looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with you and your daddy on Thursday. I’m sure you still don’t quite understand what holidays really are, but I know you’ll be happy to have your parents around to play with you and a lot of yummy food. Let’s try to keep it off the floor, though, okay?

Love,
Daddy? — No!
Mommy

I consider it a huge blessing that I haven’t had to deal with any sort of serious illness in my child’s life so far. So when his temperature was high enough that an incomplete underarm reading was still climbing higher when he squirmed away around 102.9, I still considered myself really lucky.

Other than the heat radiating off his entire body, his breathing was short and quick but there were no other signs of illness. So I didn’t really know what to do except watch him, try to help him sleep, and see what James had to say when he got home. Together we came up with the brilliant solution of actually attempting to take his temperature (gee, I guess I should have thought of that one–am I disqualified from Mother of the Year now?), and giving him a dose of Motrin to bring it down.

In the morning, he was still warm. This was Sunday. He got another dose of medicine, was kind of cranky and though he ate his whole banana, he left about half the bowl of oatmeal. So James let him hang out all day in his pajamas and kept himself on the lookout for any changes. I brought a new ear/forehead thermometer home from work, and after the morning dose of Motrin wore off, we let him be so we could see the real numbers. Before bed, he was up around 103 again, so we gave him the Motrin with the hope it would help him get some much needed rest. He woke up several times, the first of which found him drenched in sweat but with a cool head. This morning, long after the ibuprofen wore off, his temp hung out steadily between 96 and 97 degrees.

He seems fine. But with the flu season all around, we were understandably concerned. I called the advice nurse this morning, just to discuss the last couple of days, and she agreed that he probably kicked whatever he had pretty quickly, but if the fever spikes again or he shows any other crazy symptoms, not to hesitate bringing him to see the doctor.

So, I’m feeling even more grateful today that this little brush with illness has subsided, though I’m still keeping my eyes open in hopes that we’re not dealing with anything more difficult still to come. As they say, I’m cautiously optimistic. I should have known that spending $25 on a new thermometer would mean we wouldn’t have much further need for it. At least for the time being. Though I am glad we have the thing for any future temperature taking needs.

One reason that I have continued to participate in NaBloPoMo, despite it’s challenges, is because I often get inspired. I am working on several creative projects at the moment, but I’ve been considering adding another blog overhaul to the list.

The main glitch in the plan so far is the cost. Because I want to move from the free WordPress.com blog over to my own hosting account, and that takes an investment. And we all know how my financial situation is not ideal at the moment. So this whole move/redesign probably won’t happen until there’s something extra that comes my way–a freelance job, a birthday card, a lottery win– but fortunately, a year of hosting doesn’t cost a whole lot, relatively speaking.

But to make up for the investment in hosting, a redesign and a move to my own server will provide me with the opportunity to include a bit of advertising. I used to have some of that stuff when I was over at Blogger, but I simplified when I moved to WordPress. And in the process of wracking my brain to figure out how to bring in any additional income to my household, no matter how miniscule the amount, monetizing the blog seemed like a logical step to take.

So I’m going to investigate different layout options that will have a decent chance of making me a little extra money without distracting or overshadowing my writing, and I hope it turns out nice. Of course, I won’t go live with a new design until it meets my own very high standards, so I should think it will be nice when it finally happens.

Like I mentioned, I have more than a few things going on in my life, so this will be a work in progress. But perhaps by the new year, Artyfuss will have a new face. Stay tuned.

I have been well aware that my husband is anxious for me to wean M. Though even after our recent conversations, I’m still not entirely sure why. He’s not worried about M’s development or attachment or independence. He’s not concerned that he’s going to be one of those five-year-olds still hanging off the boob. He said he was concerned more for me than for M.

Which I’m still not sure I understand. Am I too attached to nursing? Am I forcing M to take the boob the couple times a day that I offer it? Am I being selfish? Or does he think I am? We didn’t really get that far. Or maybe I just can’t remember the answer he gave me at the time.

It’s true. I still enjoy my “snuggle” time with M. I’m not entirely ready to give it up. And it’s not only because of the immunity or the nutrition. Which are my primary lines of defense in this time of financial insecurity (read: cheap convenience food) and swine flu.

The thing is, M is probably ready to wean any time. James knows this, and I know this. But I don’t want to push him to wean because I’m feeling pressure from anyone else to do it. I want to wean him because I’m ready and he’s ready. I want it to be a natural transition, not the result of someone outside of this relationship telling me over and over again that it’s long overdue.

You see, I have started to wean my baby. My big boy. Weaning is a process. As I tried to explain to my husband. And the reason I’m not inclined to rush this process is because it has given me (and him) so much more than milk and the peace of mind that comes along with the kind my body makes.

Breastfeeding was the first thing that I really felt like I was doing right as a new mother. Even when it seemed like everyone was telling me that I must be doing it wrong, I found comfort in the gut-feeling that I knew it was working. Somehow I knew. And this led to confidence in other areas of my parenting. Becoming a mother was an indescribable, life-changing event. And one of the most difficult things I’ve done in my life so far. And each day gives me new challenges to face in this role. Nursing links my toddler to that new baby still so fresh in my mind and my life, and it gives us time to be together without distraction, even if it’s just for a few short minutes each day. It gives me something tangible to point to when I feel like nothing in my life is what it should be. My boobs, at the very least, have accomplished something awesome.

I know that we’ll all be fine when the weaning process is over. I would just prefer to feel supported and understood than pressured and pushed. Because I want to enjoy these last weeks of a very important time in my relationship with my son that gives me a very real reminder of how much I have grown over the course of these last few years.

There is also one more thing that I haven’t said, a reason for clinging that I’m afraid to say out loud. I’m not in any hurry to wean because I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to enjoy the experience of nursing a baby again. I know mine’s not a baby anymore, but he still reminds me so much of that tiny newborn that once fit so neatly curled in my lap, especially when I’m rocking with him at my breast. And I want to hold that memory fresh in my mind as long as I can, especially if these memories of this child are the only ones, the only child, I’ll be making.

I really don’t think it should be such a big deal. I feel my reasons for proceeding slowly and with care are valid. I’m lucky to participate in a few special moments each day. It makes me happy, which helps to combat the sadness and worry that has permeated much of what remains lately. So I’ll take what I can get, and hope that the people who love me can find a way to trust that I still know what I’m doing.

When I first started working for the baby store, I was shocked to find out that, company-wide, we had our annual inventory during the first weeks of December. This is pretty much unheard-of in the retail world to which I was accustomed. But the baby stores tend to slow down over the holiday months. Significantly. And not just because of a bad economy.

So we’ve been spending a lot of our paid hours preparing for the upcoming inventory. We’re getting really low on stock, but appearance-wise, the store looks really good. The receiving and storage areas are especially impressive in their organization.

The good thing about inventory preparation is that there is always something to do. A project that doesn’t require too much thinking or planning, usually something repetitive. Which is good for someone who’s been in kind of a funky mood, and has been entertaining strangely ambiguous feelings about her job and general direction in life. The other bonus, besides not having to use too much of my brain during these hours, is the fact that there are more hours available to work. I can stay later or come in on days off. Make up some of the time I’ve missed in the last couple weeks, some of the time (like Thursday when the store’s closed) I’m going to miss coming up.

I still like my job, but the customer service aspect isn’t appealing to me as much at the moment as the mindless tasks that need to be completed. Like everything, our preferences change, sometimes with the season, sometimes with the weather, sometimes for no reason at all. I’m sure that once I manage to pick myself out of my current funk, I’ll be back to helping people buy and register for so much useless crap with my usual perky smile and optimistic outlook on everything.

Like fresh brownies.

My hubby loves me. He’s the coolest. I’m going to spend some time with him now instead of hanging online because I worked all day, and now I’m home. And he’s right there. And did I mention there are brownies?

I hadn’t had Raisin Bran in awhile, so last time I saw it at Costco, I picked up a giant box. I enjoy the cereal. But sometimes, I find the raisins themselves to be a little bit obnoxious. I think two scoops might be too many.

James thinks I’m insane. Because I prefer the bran part to the raisin part. Which not to say that I dislike any amount of raisin in my bran, because there are certainly alternative cereals to choose, were that the case. I just prefer my raisins to enhance my bran experience. Not overpower it.

There are other things on my mind today, but with the lack of sleep last night, I’m not really in the mood to go too deep today.

So I flew home with the boy this morning. I am amazed by him. He threw a fit in line for security at the airport, which actually got us through a lot faster because of the kindness of the TSA crew member, who even went so far as to carry my backpack and roll my suitcase all the way to our gate for us. But other than that one meltdown, he was the perfect passenger. He read his book, ate some cookies, drank his juice, colored his coloring book and made notes in his journal. He sat quietly and still enough that I was even able to read some of my own book. He barely seemed to notice the pressure changes, and was a perfect gentleman to all our fellow passengers.

I guess I thought that flying would get more difficult once I couldn’t hold my baby on my lap anymore. But it has been much easier than anticipated. He’s just a very easy-going kid, for which I am truly grateful.

Daddy picked us up from the airport, and when M saw him, he screamed and cried and clung to my leg. Poor James! He missed us so much, and then he got a greeting like that. M fell asleep on the drive home, and then failed to continue to sleep once he was deposited into his own bed. So James got a little bit better quality of time with him before he then had to go to work.

So now we’re back to the grind. James closes tonight, opens tomorrow, I close tomorrow, work most of the day on Thursday. And so on.

I miss having people around to talk to during my downtime. Even if we were just watching TV or on our computers, it was nice to be in the company of my parents and my husband’s parents. I seem to miss them more this time than other times I’ve been on the exact same road. Maybe it’s because James had to work tonight and M went to sleep super early due to his lack of sleep this afternoon, so I’m by myself a little longer. Maybe it’s because we just lost a member of our family, and I’m more acutely aware of the whole mortality thing. Maybe it’s just that time of the year, or that time of the month. Either way, I’m looking forward to January already.

I have a problem. I like books. I like books a lot. I tend to buy them. Or at least, in my past life of random spending because I felt like it, I bought books a lot. I still have lots left over from high school, college, and other random phases in my young adult life.

Now, for me, for my reading pleasure, I go to the library. I believe that I have been freed from my bondage to books. I don’t have to own a book to connect to a book. I can read a book and return it to a home that is not mine. That doesn’t clutter my shelves or my life. I’ve even gone so far as to get rid of some of my books.

However, the latest outlet for my book lust has become the children’s section. Fortunately, I do most of my shopping at the thrift store these days, and books there run about $0.60 apiece. Sometimes even less. This is how I’ve acquired a decent collection for my boy. Curious George is the current favorite, but we’ve ended up with a lot of great books, some of which are longer and more involved than a 2-year-old can fully appreciate, but that I hope will become favorites for him, since they appeal so much to me.

So I went to my usual spot this afternoon while M napped at home with my mom. Half Price Books has been a place at which I’ve felt at home since high school. There are always interesting finds and good deals to be had. I then stopped at the Goodwill store to check out their bookshelves.

I came home empty-handed. Well, except for a free copy of The Onion. Which is not to say that I didn’t find anything good. But I managed to beat both my own addiction and my addiction to providing picture books for M. I didn’t spend a dime, and I don’t have to haul any new used books back home to Virginia tomorrow.

The coolest thing I found was at the Goodwill store. It was a 1963 edition of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. I was beyond tempted, because reading through some of the chapters, I found it amusingly old-fashioned. But at the same time it discussed breastfeeding and parenting issues that haven’t really changed so much at all in almost half a century. It would have made a great addition to my personal bookshelf. Maybe another time.

This is not the best economic climate to be contemplating a new career. Nonetheless, it is this very climate that is finally inspiring me to step in a direction that may lead me to choose one.

I left my job at the Chamber because I had a baby and wanted to be with him when he was helpless and dependent, brand new and changing daily. I wanted this as much for myself as for his well-being. I am glad that I was able to stay with him, though it did require quite a bit of sacrifice, from which we are still recovering in many ways. My job was a job. It paid well enough, and I liked the job and the people a lot, but it wasn’t a career. And it wasn’t love. I haven’t found that passion yet, and I’ve been a member of the full-time workforce for almost a decade.

I suppose some people never find it. My mother-in-law was telling me just the other day how she never found it, though my father-in-law did. He’s one of those people who looks forward to going to work. He smiles to start his day and genuinely enjoys his job. My own mother has it. Her physically demanding job is getting more difficult for her to do as her body ages, but she still enjoys spending her days working.

My husband hasn’t found it. Though he’s always seemed to know where to look, or at least in what direction. The sad part has been how unattainable his goals turned out to be. But some days he can make the best of his current position. Other days, it’s not so easy.

We spend the majority of our lives working to earn a paycheck. To support our lifestyles, or at the very least, put food on the table, clothes on our backs, a roof over our heads. It seems like a pretty big sacrifice of our time to do work that does not fulfill us.

I do love my job at the baby store. I like the customers, and I often feel like I am helping them make good decisions for themselves, their children and families. Even if it’s just a minor thing like what kind of bottle to choose. But I am just an associate. And I can’t make a career out of an hourly job that might give me another $0.20 an hour each year I work there. And I don’t want a promotion. I’ve been a supervisor before in a retail environment, and I’m really not interested in climbing that ladder again.

So I’ve been cruising the websites, checking out what kind of jobs are even out there right now. Seeing if there are any that speak to me. I’ve got my masters degree in a subject that tends to draw potential teachers into the university system. But I’ve never really had an interest in becoming a professor. I considered teaching high school once, but I don’t think that’s for me, either. Not to mention my lack of qualifications and experience in that field.

The writing or editing positions seem to all require more experience than I have, but even if there was something entry-level out there, part of the reason I left my other office job was the tedium of having to stare at a computer screen all day. I like personal interaction.

There’s customer service. But most of those jobs are retail-oriented.

The job category that’s been sitting in my head since I started randomly poking around the web, though, is kind of teaching related. Since having M, I’ve come to realize how much I enjoy spending time with babies and little kids. And though I’ve thought of this at other times in my life, now might be the time to start working toward becoming a preschool instructor or childcare provider. I think I’d like to work in a structured setting like a classroom, but I also think it would be fun to be around even younger babies all day. So I applied for one childcare job, an entry-level position that doesn’t require certifications or a whole lot of experience. I think I probably won’t get that particular position, but filling out the application really brought the idea into focus for me. So much so that I might work toward building a resume more suited to this type of career path.

I can’t invest a whole lot of my current resources in pursuing this change, but that doesn’t mean the timing isn’t right. I’ve invested a lot of my energy in the past to supporting my husband’s job search, and then to my son, that it’s been awhile since I really thought about what I should do with my life. I’m still mostly in the thinking stages, but the ideas in my head seem promising.