Bring it On September

I’ve been a bad blogger. I disappeared into the abyss of summer. When I started contributing last Spring, I felt like I had an unlimited number of stories to tell. My baby girl, Little S, was growing like a weed , filling our lives (mine and Papa K’s) with love and wonder – but the challenges of horrible reflux, sleepless nights, and a dairy allergy kept the stories coming.

This blog was my sanity – my opportunity to turn the drama into a bit of humor. The time it took me to write the stories somehow provided me with some extra energy – a little boost to get through the day.

Then came summer.

No, we didn’t take long trips to anywhere fancy (though NJ to visit the ‘rents is always a personal favorite) but dare I say it, things started to get – ever so slightly – easier. Little S seemed more comfortable, peaceful, and yes, even happy! She started to stay awake for more than one hour at a time, making it possible to get out of the house. My baby was drama free (for a baby)! Two bottom teeth arrived without missing a night of sleep. We started weaning her off of her reflux meds and the smiles stayed put. I felt like after months of struggling, I had earned my mama-wings.

So, there’s the problem. I’ve always told stories about what’s wrong – not right. I make jokes about the drama – not about the peace. All of the sudden, I didn’t know what to write. Yes, I was still exhausted loving Papa K and Little S, going to work, planning a move and buying a new house, but the drama was just so darn minimal!

Papa K says I always focus on the worse part of the trip when I recount a vacation to friends and family. He asks in dismay, “Is that all you remember?” No, of course not – but that’s the funny stuff – not that part where I got a perfect tan and slept 10 hours (by the way, that was on the honeymoon - nothing recent!).

So, there I sat in August and thought that with September approaching and my going back to teaching undergraduates full-time, stories would undoubtedly come in full force.

And, Little S must have been listening.

One week before classes started, as I finally got the focus I had been searching for since I returned from maternity leave 12 weeks after Little S was born, I fed my now 8-month-old Little S her dinner . . .

And, she made a horrible gasping sound that even rattled the ever-steady heart of calm Papa K. She sounded like she was struggling to breathe with each inhalation. On came two days in the ER, specialists, X-rays and a happy chatty Little S making mind-blowing dreadful sounds without a care in the world. Clearly, this deserves its own post, but in full disclosure, docs now say she is as healthy as can be.

And, then, thanking our lucky stars for our healthy daughter, we were greeted this weekend with what appear to be tantrums. Drop a toy. Can’t reach that beautiful computer cord. Dare to change my diaper. Screaming fit. Throw head back. Stomp feet.

Excuse me, is she now two or something?

And, finally, our 10-11 hour/night sleeper (I honestly feel like I earned this peace), started getting up for 2.5 hour blocks in the middle of the night this weekend.

Oh yes, Mama K will look oh so good for the first day of classes.

Folks, the stories are back. Stay tuned.

Happy September.