And that’s what the tiff was about.  We both are going to encourage her to be vegan, but we also must decide how to talk to her about and what to say/not to say about the other side.  Luckily, she has parents who have been on either side – one who ate meat and then stopped and the other who has never had meat.  We have the words, but we aren’t sure of how to string them together.  Ivy will grow up in a world of bbq, hot dogs, hamburgers, cupcakes and cookies.  She will be exposed to these foods everywhere; school, her grandparent’s house (my parents are avid carnivores and LOVE their dairy), friends’ houses.  She will also have exposure to some of these foods at our house, just not in the same way.  For example, she will have plenty of cupcakes, birthday cake, cookies, pancakes, pizza…just made without animal products.  It is our job to teach her about the differences between these foods and how they are made without making judgments of those who do not eat like we do.  People who eat eggs are not BAD.  People who eat meat are not EVIL.  We have made different choices for our family.  We will discourage her from eating animal products, not just because of our beliefs but because of the health risks from eating these products.  We will have to tell her NO when she reaches out for that Hershey bar in her Trick-or-Treat bag and we are hoping that she will understand why.  Our choice doesn’t make it the ABSOLUTE one, or the right-est one, nor does it make us any higher than anybody else.  That’s what’s going to be difficult.  I don’t want Ivy to point to the pulled-pork sandwich on some guy’s plate at a 4th of July picnic and scream, “Eww, Mommy!  That man’s eating MEAT!  That’s BAD!”  I want her to see it, accept it as his choice and continue eating our own home-made vegan potato salad.  Her world will be very limited.  Her world will be different.  I am not denying the hardship that my child will face.  But one day, when she is old enough to be faced with the choice of chicken nuggets or salad, I hope she picks the salad.  I think what Chai and I disagreed on was the fact that this WILL be a big deal.  As much as he wants this decision to not affect her day to day life, it will.  He thinks she won’t know any better, but I know better.  I know kids – they are S M A R T and ask questions and sometimes won’t ask questions and do it anyway just to get away with it.  And if Ivy decides to trade her peanut butter and jelly for a turkey and cheese lunchable at the kindergarten lunch table, I don’t think it’s fair to send her to her room to be punished.  But that doesn’t mean I’ll give her a high-five and ask her if she liked it, either.  I don’t want to make eating meat or dairy or NOT eating meat or dairy an offense.  I don’t want it to be right vs wrong.  I don’t want it to be the 11th commandment, but I also don’t want her to think she can pull one over on me and get a Happy Meal on Friday.  So Chai and I have agreed to teach Ivy the following 3 things: we do not eat meat and dairy in our house and here’s why, you cannot eat meat and dairy because that’s the choice we have made for you until you are old enough to make your own decisions, you may ask as many questions about this choice as you want.  And in the end, I’m hoping for a 7 year old who can teach her Oreo-loving-hot-dog-eating-Cheeto-orange-stained-fingered-2nd-grade-friends how to eat their vegetables.

• Fall asleep on her own.  I know, I know.  How many posts have I written about the EXACT opposite??  But very recently, Ivy  has made peace with the Sleepytime Faerie.  That means that naps and bedtime are like this: mom sees Ivy’s tired signs (rubbing eyes, fussy, headbutting my chest), mom picks up Ivy, walks to her bedroom, gives her the paci, hums a random slow-but-melodious-lullaby-like-song, puts her down on her belly, pats her back 10 times, smooths her hair, rubs her back a few times, walks out, Ivy talks to herself, Ivy falls asleep usually in 15-20 min.  H A L L E L U J A H (cue the harps and Seraphim).
• Feel textures of everything.  This is particularly funny on carpet and tile as she can now distinguish the difference between each.  As she crawls on a surface, she will use her stubby little fingers to pinch or scratch the texture of what is beneath her, as if she’s testing it for crawlability.  She also feels the texture of skin, hair, certain pages of her “feely” book (like a towel or the squishy turtle), diapers, blankets and her Boppy.
• Speak more sounds.  The newest one around our house is Dadadadada over and over again.  At first, I thought this kid was a genius!  Her first word at 7 months, get outta town!  Then she handed me Pooh Bear and said, “Dada!” and I knew it wasn’t as it seemed.  Although she can’t associate the word yet, she is experimenting with sounds and lip/tongue/mouth formations to make those sounds.  When daddy’s at work, I am secretly working on Mama.
• Associating routines.  It’s gotten to the point where Ivy isn’t just go-with-the-flow anymore.  She has learned that certain routines mean certain things will follow.  She is making those connections now that before, she kinda just got used to doing but not knowing why.  She now knows that bath = bed, paci = sleep, highchair = food, Boppy = milk.  Finally, after all our hard work of staying consistent, it feels like its paying off.
• Peek-a-boo/Follow-the-leader.  We play these games every day.  Even Daddy joins in on the weekends.  Ivy enjoys mixing these two games to crawl around the house trying to “find” whoever is hiding.  I’ll hide behind the couch, peek my head out and say BOO, Ivy giggles and crawls toward me until she “finds” me, I clap my hands and reward her and she just laughs and crawls away.  This game is great because a) it is teaching her how to play, b) she can explore her environment, c) she is learning cause and effect ie find mommy/daddy & I’ll get applause/smiles.
• Crawling/standing.  Ivy is extraordinarily strong.  She has the core strength of a Pilates master and the arm/leg strength of those guys on Strong Man competitions on tv.  She has learned that to get where she wants to go even faster, it behooves her to crawl on one knee and one foot.  I think she uses the foot for leverage.  She pushes herself forward, like small spurts of acceleration that crawling on both knees just doesn’t give.  She does crawl on her hands and knees most of the time, but has figured out how to make the most out of her crawling experience.  She is also pulling herself up more and more, discovering her balance and her feet.  She uses her arm strength to hold on and if she’s lopsided, she’ll kick the opposite foot out to right herself.
• Excitement.  Oh Ivy.  Precious girl full of giggles and wrist/ankle circles.  Ivy’s emotions are very powerful and unpredictable but when she’s excited, the whole world knows.  Eating lunch/dinner, being out of her clothes and diaper, getting snuck up on, upside-down airplane.  But the funniest is after bathtime, when I’m drying her off and she balls her hands into fists and starts beating herself.  Throwing punches up in the air, panting like a puppy, kicking her legs, pumping her fists up and down and to the side…a little like a drunk cheerleader.  I don’t know why she does this other than she must know she’s going to bed and is happy to have at least the next 5 min to exert some more energy and stay naked.

*Our next triumph is getting over this reflux.  Ivy was diagnosed with acid reflux at 3 months old.  She was taking medication for it up until she turned 6 months (when most babies outgrow it).  We took her off the medication because she seemed cured, less spitting up, more nursing, overall a happier camper.  We hoped that the mix of medicine and her age would heal her.  But for the last 2 weeks, Ivy’s old nemesis is back.  Nursing is very difficult, as she only stays on for a minute or two before pulling off and arching the back, then returning to the breast like she’s rabid with hunger (just like the first time).  She spits up 17 times a day, wait, let me add a few zero’s to that number – 17,0000, that’s better – even 2 hrs after she’s eaten.  Milk is supposed to be a natural antacid but she’s learned that milk comes back up.  And that hurts.  Which makes me hurt.  So we’re back on meds.  80% of kids Ivy’s age have outgrown this thing already…now all we have to do it wait for Ivy’s turn. *

Today is a glorious (although humid – oh GOD, I’ve done it again) Sunday.  And seeing as it’s Sunday, I think a post full of rejoice-ish-ness, hmm that doesn’t sound right, is appropriate.  Not that EVERYDAY isn’t worthy of rejoice-ish-ness, I just don’t know if I have the energy to STAY POSITIVE the other six days a week.  Well that sounds bad, doesn’t it?  You’d think finding things to worry about takes more energy than not worrying in the first place, but if you’re a champion worrier…TRUST ME, it’s easier to be concerned about something than nothing at all.  Hi, I’m Shaela and I’m an addict.  It’s like my body craves stress, even though it will kill me someday (you can read about that here, if you’re like me, and would like to read an article about how you will eventually die).  Relax is almost a 4-letter word to me.  To relax means giving up on what should be getting done.  Even if I’ve done it already (because there’s always something else to do, or to think about).  Oh geez, look at that.  I began a post about rejoicing and have spent the last paragraph complaining about how often I complain.  I also have control issues…but that’s a different blog.

Ok.  Starting over.  I will rejoice today in JUST the day.  I will be glad in it.  For the opportunity to spend this day breathing, walking, talking, laughing, even the brief tear that may collect in my eye is ALIVE.  And I will rejoice in the energy of LIFE.  I will embrace the power of what can be accomplished in just one day, even if the only accomplishment is that I accomplished nothing (even if that means the toilets will STILL be filthy tomorrow or that sticky spot on the floor will STILL be sticky in the morning – I told you already, I’m an ADDICT).  I will accept that some days are better spent doing nothing than too much of something.  Some days are best spent on the carpet, doing somersaults with Ivy, or chasing her around the couch, or HECK, just SITTING on the couch.  Because sitting still means I’m alive and alive enough to take a moment to just be.  I will rejoice in my husband who takes care of his girls.  I will rejoice in my daughter who is admittedly the smartest 7 month old creature on the planet.  (Sorry mom’s to all those other 7 month old creatures, but unless yours is playing Mozart on the piano or saying the alphabet backwards, you’ll just have to accept 2nd place).

Today, I rejoice.

To our bountiful Father above,
We will offer our tribute of praise
For the glorious gift of His love
And the blessings that hallow our days.

I remember the OLD DAYS.  The days when we’d want to do whatever and do it, without any obligations, any responsibilities, anything left behind.  All we needed was each other’s company.  Movie times were late, sleeping was late, decisions were late.  Possibilities were limitless.  When parenthood hit, that changed.  Movie times are non-existent, I sleep as early as I can, decisions MUST be made before we do ANYTHING, whims are a thing of the past.  So when we made the decision to leave our baby in the hands of my sister, it was a big deal to me.  It almost felt like I was cheating on her.  It was weird.

I had a panic attack in the car before we even left the garage.  The what-ifs were endless and I felt guilty for even THINKING about leaving the house without her.  I love my husband, and he deserves time alone with his wife the way is used to be, but it’s not USED TO BE anymore.  We have become 3, and this reality has hit so hard in the last 7 months that it’s blinded me.  Because I am with her more than anyone, because she is attached to my hip most of the day, because she is ME in miniature, there is a symbiotic yet parasitic relationship with us.  My heart bleeds for her and separation demands more energy and discipline than I’ve got sometimes.  Not meaning to say that a date with my husband was FORCED, but it felt very surreal.  We looked at each other on the highway, at 8pm, in the DARK, and asked each other when we had last been out at night.  We couldn’t remember.  Our day ends when Ivy sleeps.  Our day begins when Ivy wakes.  She is the sun and the moon.  The part of us that rebelled against sleep, the part of us that longed for only each other, the part of us that seemed immortal, has been replaced with grown-up things and a pint-sized bundle of joy.

So yes, I enjoyed the 3D glasses and the picture I took of Chai in them.  Yes, I loved the movie (for the 2nd time).  Yes, I held my husband’s hand for the first time in months.  It almost felt like old times.  Except for the nagging ache, like I had locked my keys in the car, or left the front door open, or lost my wallet in the theater restroom.   But when I got over the fact that she was actually sound asleep, when I got over the fact that she is capable of respite from even ME, when I got home, my heart was happiest.

Now, my work never ends.  I don’t get holidays off.  Or summers.  Or weekends.  Welcome to the world of Mommy.  And I don’t complain about this job because I chose it, I wanted it, I craved it.  And now that I’ve had it for 7 months, I wouldn’t change it.  It’s the ONLY job I’ve ever loved.  The only job I’ve been excited about going to at 6am (well, not every day).  But despite my happiness, it’s still hard to relate anymore to the people who haven’t experienced the 24/7, 365 days (times x number of years your child is living…what’s the going life expectancy these days?) of parenting.  That’s a LONG TIME.  And have I mentioned it’s UNPAID????

I’ve been blessed to have many Mommy friends, my own mother, my husband, and others in my life who help me to see the impact that my job has on my daughter.  And I totally believe them.  But we all have those days that no matter how many times you hear, “You’re doing a great job, honey” or “You’re such a good mom”, you still feel alone, isolated from others who don’t have this job, who don’t know how time consuming, energy-sapping and stressful this job can be.  A parent has the hardest job in the world.  That baby, who is born knowing nothing other than how to poop and how to suck (even that’s iffy), is completely dependent on the life you provide him/her.  All of their experiences, physically, mentally and emotionally are centered on how YOU are as a parent.  And unfortunately, since we haven’t made Parenting 101 a mandatory prep-course for anyone thinking (or not thinking) about conceiving, some people suck at it (for lack of a better word).  Nobody is born a parent, we must become one.  And we must decide how well we want to do our job.  I have decided to learn day by day because I cannot learn EVERYTHING all at once (trust me, I’ve tried).  I want Ivy to have a mother who is not afraid of a challenge, not afraid to continue learning, not afraid to teach, sing, draw, laugh, play and give her everything I can in an attempt to mold a human being who is everything I could never be.  Better.

It’s nice to be validated for the work that is so often overlooked.  Today I thank those parents who took the time to create a Better Life for their little ones.  Your job is never-ending and I salute you for your patience, endurance and CHOICE to be not just a parent, but a GOOD one.

Minus the guns on the side.  I was in shock.  People actually use these. People camp out on the top thingy and wait for animals to come by so they can shoot them.  Then they put the animal on the front grille thingy so they can take the head home and hang it on a wall.  People do this.  For real.  And it disgusts me.

I saw a dead raccoon in the middle of the road today.  Someone hit it. I said a prayer for him…like I do for all dead animals I see.  All the deer and squirrels and raccoons and birds and armadillos and rabbits and especially the BABY ones.  Some people don’t even slow down.  Some people keep on driving like it’s some kind of game.  It disgusts me.

Hunting isn’t a “sport”, it’s murder.  I’m not writing this to be funny.  I’m not writing this to get laughed at.  I can almost hear the conservative Texans who own one of these jeeps trying to locate me in the yellow pages, muttering profanities under their breath (profanity = cussing, just in case).  I find it abhorrent that people willfully enjoy shooting at a defenseless animal.  What kind of person relishes in taking the life of a weaker being.  Yes, you’re bigger, stronger, maybe smarter, drive a stupid jeep and own a gun.  That doesn’t make it right.  It takes a stronger person to spare a life than to take one.  Even if that life belongs to a moose, it’s still a life, and one worth living.

I’m so sick of people that see the squirrel, but don’t care enough to stop for it.  Yes, it’s stupid and crosses the road at the worst moment, and I’m not suggesting that you cause a wreck by stopping your vehicle from 70mph…I’m just asking you to slow down.  Be careful.  The roads you drive on used to not be there.  The land your house is on used to not be there.  The luxuries you have have been taken from what was theirs.  I just ask that you have a little empathy for the deer that is standing in the middle of the road because he is confused by where he is and where his habitat is no longer.  Give him a minute to figure it out before you break his leg and leave him to die on the side of the road.  Because that’s what you would do…isn’t it?

If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
Dalai Lama