The Top Three Reasons Moxie Captivates Me

1. She frequently sleeps with her hands over her eyes.


2. Her fingers are so small and seemingly fragile they are translucent.


3. She stubbornly believes that no solid surface can exist directly under her back and insists she is falling when placed upon it, waving her arms frantically and shaking her head back and forth as though searching for something to grasp in her terrifying, non-existent freefall.


Tallulah has her own list.

Escapism, fun for the whole family

I've been watching movies relentlessly, using breastfeeding as an excuse. I felt guilty about it-- why do I need to escape into movies? why can't I enjoy my new baby and growing family? But my head, my emotions, my nerves-- everything is just over-full right now.

And then I noticed that I wasn't the only one. Kent, the day Moxie was born, decided to clear an overgrown area of our yard. Immediately. We live in Florida and the overgrowth is made up of years, maybe decades, of pepper tree shoots and potato vines. If you've never had the joy of battling these things, let me fill you in: pepper trees cannot be killed and they grow at the speed of sound. So as fast as you can say, "I cut that pepper tree DOWN!" it's already grown back. And potato vines are the glue that hold Florida together. If you pull them long enough, you will actually detach florida from the rest of the united states. We have been battling this area for the six years we've lived at our house. But Kent has found new purpose in the battle. Can't stop the baby crying, but dammit, I can cut the shit out of those pepper trees. And to his credit, he is making amazing progress.

Tallulah is getting into the escapist game, too. Kent and I, a few months ago, watched a couple episodes of Big Love, the polygamy Mormon show. We didn't stick with the show, but it caused quite a few conversation beginning with "if we added another wife/husband from the people we know, who would you want it to be?"

I know you know these conversations. When you're dating, the conversation is "If we had a threesome..." then when you're newleyweds, it's "if money were no object, what kind of house would you want?" I imagine in another decade or so it'll be, "when the kids move out/go to college..."

But Tallulah is getting into it at age four. She's been starting conversations with, "if I had two mommies, I would want them to be..." Or, "If I had three mommies and two daddies..." No, she's not planning adoption by lesbians. She's choosing the adults in her life who would make better parents than us. Or, to be fair, she's imagining what her life would be in other families. Which is not quite the same as telling us our friends are better parents. I think it's just the same escapism Kent and I are experiencing. Because adjusting to life with a baby is difficult and we're all feeling the effects. Not just that we have a new baby who cries a lot and has more needs than the rest of us put together. What none of us realized is that our family of three has to crumble apart like an overcooked cookie before we can build it back up into a family of four. Everything is different now. Our bedtime routines, our hanging out time, the way we communicate with each other-- EVERYTHING. It's disorienting and hard and overwhelming and the only thing any of us can do is watch movies, attack pepper trees, and imagine life in another family.

The only one who isn't mentally escaping from our new circus of four is Moxie. She is alert to any sign of dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry, were you going to put me down?" she says. "I DON"T THINK SO!!!! "

Speaking of....gotta go.

our first experiments in fashion

see the hair clips? Isn't that why she was born with lots of hair? Why isn't she thrilled?

Pizza face Bonifield

Yesterday I ate a hamburger and fries from McDonald's. This morning Moxie woke up with pimples all over her face.

Cause, meet effect.

The connection between my eating habits and my babies' behavior/appearance is, thankfully, an obvious one. Well, obvious NOW, now that Tallulah taught me all about it with her babyhood. Tallulah had an allergy to dairy that made her scream for hours on end and could only be assuaged with constant nursing. The allergy went undiagnosed for ten months because her doctor and everyone else said, "Babies cry." And because I spent 20 hours a day with my nipple in her mouth so no one realized the extent of the problem.

Poor Tallulah. She was my Starter Baby. Like the car you learn to drive stick shift in but would never own because you know at any minute the transmission is going to just fall off from the mistakes you made.

But Moxie, now Moxie is going to have a blissful life. Dairy? Off the diet. McDonald's hamburgers? No more! Mommy's diet? Limited, but damn is mommy going to be hot. This baby weight is going to fly off. And isn't that what really matters?

Birthday celebrations-- already

How is it possible? Moxie is officially two weeks old today. Where did those two weeks go?

Hmm. Well, I could say that it passed in a sleep deprivation haze. That would be true, but only partially. The whole truth is that I have been avoiding my life with a vicious cocktail of Leonardo Dicaprio (I know he's a total douche, but I just watched The Departed-- twice-- and he's an amazing actor. And his topless scenes didn't hurt the film's watchability, either.) and 4am doses of Canada's Next Top Model (for real, there is no better escapism than goofy canadian girls saying things like, "I don't think I did very well, I'm not good at walking"). Because

A.) Tallulah's enthusiasm for Moxie stresses my already shot nervous system and revolves around these three phrases:
"stop touching the baby, she's sleeping"
"don't climb on me, the baby's nursing." and, the one where I feel like the very best parent in the world,
"What did I say? Stop that! Now!"

B.) Moxie has no predictability yet. Which is fine because, hello, newborn. But I can't tell whether the next feeding is going to end with blissful sleeping or a crying jag. And it wouldn't matter so much except for Tallulah needing me to pay attention to her, feed her, take her to school, or any of those other little 'duties' four year olds require.

C.)The last week has established one predictable pattern for Moxie: she hates evenings. This is kind of common for babies and not much of a surprise, but my management technique involves lots of nursing, carrying, bouncing, swinging and pacifier use. But her breastfeeding latch hasn't been great and my nipples have been sore, cracked and bleeding. So marathon nursing was out and pacifiers are out until she gets a better latch. And she hasn't developed a love for any mechanical movement machines like swings or bouncy chairs yet. Which leaves me with carrying, walking, singing, and jumping in the bath with her. Oh, and passing her off to daddy.

D.) Tallulah climbs in bed with us in the middle of the night. She can't go to sleep until she pets Moxie, tells me how cute she is, pets me, snuggles up to both of us, pats my breasts, rubs my stomach, rubs Moxie's head, flings a leg over my hip, steals my covers, and takes over my pillow until I threaten her with eviction at which point she rolls over and does some combination of that to daddy. By this time, Moxie is awake and needs to nurse. Although I do fall asleep while nursing Moxie in bed and I know bed sharing is actually guaranteeing more sleep than most new moms have, I feel like I am always on duty.

Glamorous, right?

All right, my life may not be glamorous, but neither are the lives of goofy canadian girls trying to be 'top models'. And I get to eat chocolate.

Turns out, I'm not going to be pregnant forever.

Moxie Grey was born November 28th, at 8:53 am.

Everybody is healthy and relatively happy, attempting to settle in to life on the outside/life as a family of four. Details to follow.