In which I determine...

... what the soundtrack for Charlotte's second month is going to be.

A brief background: in high school, I fancied myself a bit of a new-fangled hippie. I dug on Pete Seeger, mountain music, and flannel shirts.

Now, I find myself searching for easy-to-sing songs with which to serenade Charlotte. I usually sing the few verses of whatever random mountain music song I can remember at the time - typically, Barbara Allen, Little Sparrow, In the Sweet By and By. But a few nights ago, in my sleep deprived stupor, I remembered nearly all the words to Joan Baez' version of East Virginia Blues. That led me to trawl through my iTunes library, where I stumbled upon...

Source

Honestly, I've no idea when I uploaded that album. But boy howdy, am I glad I did. Now, this little doll

 doesn't have to listen to depressing songs about lovers dying too soon, or death in general. And amazingly, I find that I'm able to remember most of the words to these songs, the likes of which I definitely sang in Montessori school. I think? Either that, or my dad's 1960's musical tastes really rubbed off on me.

Now, if only I had Abiyoyo on iTunes. I definitely remember listening to that on a cassette tape. Anyone else?

One month, a little late

Cuz that's how I roll, yo.

At her equally delayed one-month pediatrician appointment, Charlotte weighed in at a hefty 8 lbs 8 oz - she's gained nearly one-third of her birth weight. She's now proportional, too, between the 25th and 30th percentile for height, weight, and head circumference. Rock on, little lady. Rock on. I suspect it won't be long before she overlaps the laundry basket.

Fall in a bottle

M. and I spent several hours on Friday bottling 15 gallons of hard cider. This is the fourth year we've made it, I believe, but really the first year I've been more than just peripherally involved. This year, it's "my" batch. Really, that just means I paid for the cider and picked it up from the orchard.

The fruits of our labor, only slightly diminished by St. Patrick's celebrations:

Nostalgia

Late summer in DC always meant thunderstorms. I used to love sitting on the front stoop, watching the storms roll in. Because it was a stoop and not a porch, I usually abandoned my perch as soon as the rain began in earnest. I'd retreat to the back porch, curling up in a chair to watch the drops fall and listen to the boom of the thunder. Some kids are scared of storms. Heck, some adults are. Me, I love them.

So  during Charlotte's first thunderstorm last week, I went out on the front porch and snuggled her close, and together, we watched the rain fall.

Ok, I watched the rain fall. She slept, and I learned that the glider on the porch is awesomesauce for lulling a baby back to sleep.

March Peas

Charlotte and I took advantage of the glorious afternoon to get out to the raised beds and assess the situation. The folks over at Firecracker Farm put their peas in earlier this week, and they're north of me. I felt spurred to action.

I wasn't planning on doing much out there; I had a baby strapped to my chest, and my nails were way too long to be digging in dirt. But holy cow, once I got out there and felt warm sunshine on my back and cool, wet dirt under my fingers, how could I go back inside?

Note clean fingernails. Clearly this was taken before I got in the dirt.

Last fall I tried something new, and left the stumps and roots of big plants in the beds. The theory, which I believe I found on pinterest, is that the root system will decompose over the winter, leaving you with a nicely aerated bed come spring. I think it worked, as the soil I worked today was definitely fluffier than in previous springs.

This lazy way of gardening had a totally unexpected benefit, too: I do believe there's some over-wintered lettuce! I can't be positive, because I've lost my planting schema from last year. I'm going to let it be and see what it turns into. Overwintering tender plants doesn't typically happen 'round here, but The Winter That Wasn't made for some favorable conditions. Wish I'd known that was gonna happen - I'd have left all the chard, too! I'm all for a head start.

And speaking of head starts, I'm getting out there again to get some early peas in. Last year was my first year growing peas, and boy do I love 'em. This year I'm going to try staggered plantings, so I don't get caught in an inundation of the sweet little orbs like I did last June.

Our farmyard

 This is Charlotte's "Funky Farmyard." To the right, you will see our infant guarding dog. They're similar to livestock dogs like Maremmas or Great Pyrennees, only they shed less.

Here, he is keeping a close eye on her tummy time progress.

Our funky farmyard also has a monkey butt. Fortunately, the monkey has not yet started throwing poo. For this, I am incredibly grateful.

On vanity and expectations

My goal for pregnancy was to remain fit and healthy. I knocked it out of the park for the first 5-6 months: I ran, a lot; I lost my sweet tooth; I craved raw vegetables and Cheerios. Then winter hit, my running slowed to walking, and I rediscovered my love of baking and Nutella. Suddenly, my low weight gain was not so low. In the scheme of things, it wasn't too bad - I gained 31 pounds during my pregnancy. More than I'd hoped; I had wanted to gain 20-25 pounds because I started off the pregnancy carrying an extra 15 pounds. But I consoled myself with the fact that it could have been far more, and really, the Nutella cheesecake alone was worth an extra 6 pounds.

Two days following Charlotte's birth, I was incredibly distraught to realize that I'd only lost 6 pounds. Seriously. I gave birth to a 6 lb 9 oz baby, and no longer had a placenta, and still I was only 6 pounds down? Apparently someone had slightly unrealistic expectations. That same someone did NOT anticipate post-partum edema that was worse than anything dealt with pre-partum. Dear god, everything about me was swollen. My face! My knees! My calves! My ankles and feet (a given)! Why was I not warned about this? As a result, I loathe pretty much every single photo taken of me during Charlotte's first two weeks of life. I know. I'm ridiculous. I'm working on it.

Fast forward three and a half weeks. I'm down about 17-18 pounds, and the joy that is being a mom has helped me come to grips with that. In my mind, I was going to be able to lose at least 20 pounds during the first month, leaving me with not too huge a number to tackle. Close, but no cigar. Ultimately, I feel pretty good about myself. I imagine many women, and probably most mothers, struggle with body image issues. Funnily enough, I feel better about my body now, carrying 25-30 pounds more than I'd like, than I did when I was only carrying 10-20 pounds more than I'd have liked. I feel like, darn it, I have ACCOMPLISHED something with this body. I have EARNED this floppy belly and wider hips. And, let's face it, I'm totally providing nourishment for a sentient being. That alone has got to be worth a few extra inches.

What is helping me is, I have gotten out of my sweatpants and into jeans. I put on blush (it's true, Mom. I even wear it to the grocery store!). I walk briskly with a baby and dog in tow.  Today I even wore my running tights, whose high spandex content helps to contain a certain amount of jiggle when I wiggle. And I take advantage of the fantastic stroller my family gave me at a shower:

Don't worry, it's perfectly safe for a newborn to be in this particular jogger.

This week, so far, we have logged about 12 miles. Gus is really digging our mid-day walks, and since he's not on a leash, he's probably logged about 15-18 miles. He is snoring on his bed right now, and it's only 3:15. I'm about to join him, floppy belly and all.