1m2aSandbox

I got off work a bit early today and decided to get in some “real” Christmas shopping, blatantly taking advantage of my mother’s babysitting.  I spent time earlier going through Maddie’s shopping list and deciding what would be ordered online and what I’d pick up at Buy Buy Baby because it was either cheaper or back-ordered or too big and bulky to ship at a somewhat decent cost.  At last, I’d get the chance to get out there and get my hands dirty!  Let the blissful browsing and impulse-buying begin!

Two hours later, I’m standing on the street in front of Bloomingdale’s with half the population of Manhattan, trying vainly to flag down a cab during 1) the start of rush hour, and 2) the shift change of all taxi drivers in the city.  Twenty minutes of unsuccessful peremptory arm-waving later, I had one question:

Madeleine’s six months now, and I’ve been back working a couple nights a week while Brian watches her since she was four months old.  When I first started back, I really looked forward to leaving the house, getting out and mixing with adults, using a different part of my brain than the area required to do all the silly voices for Bear Snores On.  I also felt liberated to be back in the work force; not in a burn-your-bra, I’m-as-good-as-a-man sort of way, but in an actual released-on-parole sort of way.

This is making me sound like a horrible mother who doesn’t love her child, so let me go back one more step before I go forward.

No, I’m not turning Mama Rose on you; I don’t have any suggestions for the next American Baby Idol auditions.

But I do have a great holiday gift suggestion.  I promised you earlier you'd benefit from the fruits of my labor, and this one is a whopper.

At least, these facts were unknown to me.

Yep, it seems it’s that time now, though truth be told, I feel as if she’s been teething for about three months already.  She’s been gnawing on shoulders and drooling down burp cloths since she was around 12 weeks old; she’s had a drool rash around her mouth on and off now for about two months.  She’s well acquainted with her teething fishie and hand, and believe me, it’s best to have more than one since 1) fishie is a different texture from the hand, and you never know which one she’ll want, and 2) you’ll always have one that’s cold.  Fishie is great because it's got a couple different textures, including a really hard edge when she's in the mood to get out some anger, and hand is the place to go when she needs to get the back teeth: she can fit those long fingers in her mouth and be content.  If you’re holding her while she’s gnawing on either of those, it’s best to be sitting on a drop cloth to catch all the excess drool.  But she’s been doing this for so long now, along with the chomping on her fist and trying to bite off your finger at a knuckle, that we’ve come to view it as a way of life.

Traditions are a big part of my family; as much as I love new situations and challenges, I cling voraciously to the rituals and rites that I’ve grown up with or developed with Brian.  One of the things that excited me most about becoming a mother was the opportunity to introduce my child to these traditions, the anticipation you feel as they approach, and the familiarity and joy you get when they happen.  It’s like snuggling under your favorite down comforter: you look at it, calling to you from your bed; you think longingly about snuggling under it all day, anticipation perhaps even hastening yours steps home; and when you finally do curl up in it at night, it’s even better than you remembered, immediately enfolding you, conforming to you, multiplying your own warmth exponentially in a soft, cushiony kind of heaven.

Not that I like my down comforter or anything.

Back to traditions, though – they’re an important part of our family life, and today Madeleine was introduced to yet another very important one.

Yep, Madeleine met the Big Man himself.

Sure, she’s only six months old, and probably doesn’t have a lot to say to Santa.  But frankly, she didn’t have much choice; Brian and I were going, with or without her.