Espen's Teeth and Dropping Meat In Public

Espen's first top tooth has made an appearance this week.  I cannot say for certain if it plans on staying out for the long haul, but it's a very impressive debut.  You know how everything always feels HUGE when it comes to mouth developments? Say a cut, or a chipped tooth.  It's like there's a titanic anomaly threatening to take over your entire oral cavity. Well. This tooth probably feels like the Missoula Ice Dam breaking and rushing through  the baby Columbia River Gorge.

In order to assuage Espen's potential, or real, discomfort, I accidentally stumbled upon a grand solution.  Forget those plastic teething toys, the real order of soothing teething distress is beef jerky. It's tasty, tough, and simultaneously soft enough to give baby gums a good massage.  Espen loved it.

He loved it so much he kept his whip of jerky clenched in his little paw as we moseyed around thrift stores and antique malls.  He oohhed and ahhhed over victorian chaise lounges with me, all the while drooling his dried cow into an squishy mass of masticated meat. He waved his meat hook gaily at the very somber antique dealer reigning supreme over the fanciest store on the block.  

Espen is the friendliest little human on the planet. He has never yet met a stranger and uses his most charming "Eh!" to get a person's attention when he sees them.  It's impossible for anyone with a soul to resist.  And yet, somehow, there are still the select few who choose to ignore the sunshine.  Said antique dealer was one of them.

We walked out of the store ten minutes later with good ideas for decorating and a sense of awe that a re-print of a map could cost 900.00.  He was cooing and gooing animatedly, commenting, I thought, on the outrageous mark-up.  

But wait. Something...was...missing.....

Where. Is. Baby's. Slimy Meat Teething Accessory.

I'll admit right here and now, that shop was empty except for us. There wasn't even a dog to pin it on.  Nope.

And more shamefully, did I walk back there and hunt down the meat surprise?

Nope.

Parents, friends, I hang my head in shame. SHAME! 

Ok, and maybe a little evil delight at the thought of said pompous dealer going to shut the shop for the night and noticing a little pile of....what is that?!?!?!?

Why Parents Really Get Tired

As a general rule, I'd say that I'm a pretty emotionally courageous person. For example, I just found my diaries from childhood where I describe things like bone marrow aspirations and Congestive Heart Failure. Survived that.  Interspersed between the hospital stays and chemo are stories of my upbringing in a religious cult. Managed to get out of that with a sense of humor intact, even after a nervous breakdown in Thailand.  Rebounded from a quarter life crisis, an abortion, a miscarriage, living below the poverty line for years, and ended up meeting the love of my life on a 500 mile pilgrimage across Spain.  

This gamut of life experiences has put me through my emotional paces and made me a more resilient human. There's not a whole lot that phases me or takes me for a ride.

Until I became mother to Espen Camino Eld-Mathis.

Now I realize that babies cry because they are communicating various things.  I'm hungry. Tired. Frustrated. Lonely. Angry.  What they don't tell you is that the volume and intensity of your baby's cry draws its energy directly from the life force that makes your own heart beat.

I can set my baby down for his nap, knowing that he has been hugged, read to, changed, rocked, fed, and entertained as much as he would tolerate, and STILL, when he opens his mouth and WAILS,  I can literally feel my energy levels revving up to fill the gap. Why? Because I may have given and done EVERYTHING I can think of to do and spent every last emotional penny trying to procure a satisfied baby customer, but none of that matters when The Cry That Pierced His Mother's Heart issues its demands.

Tired mom? Doesn't matter. Baby. Must. Be. Loved.  Even if I am doing dishes in the kitchen, resolved to let him work out his frustrations so he can learn to put himself to sleep, I am still beaming him every particle of love and comfort the universe has to offer around his crib and into his little baby heart.

I may have had my moments of doubt as to the possibility of remote healing before becoming a mother, but now, I am firmly convinced that energy can be exchanged between parties physically separated by space. All I have to do is go into another room when Espen cries, and I can feel the transfer occurring.

This to say, I stand before you all, humbled, an emotional titan no more.  Espen has shown me how very fragile and fluid I really am. I thank him for this revelation even as I drag myself about at the end of the day emotionally exhausted yet ready to do it all again the next day.  I thank him because as much as it stretches and pains me to love so inevitably, it makes the greens so much greener and the days brighter than I ever imagined possible.

New Years-Espen Walks! He Waves!

Well folks, here's what the baby was working on.

Yep, his Brio came yesterday, on his 9 month birthday, and within minutes of its final assembly, he was on a mission.  The baby is a flaneur. Well, actually, he'd probably run circles around them as he's not interested in strolling. He's interested in power walking.  For the record, he's also started waving whenever someone comes or goes in the last two days.  Clearly, his diligent cerebral connecting is paying off. It's very inspiring to watch him hit the ground running.  He carries such enthusiasm in his body and spirit, I am excited to embody more of this myself as we move into 2014.  Thank you Espen, for all your joy and magic; we're having so much fun watching you grow!