corporate hostage. (or, a bunch of ramblings about momhood and music).

today is one of those corporate hostage days. holiday weeks are always rough enough to stay focused, but i have a hunkering this week will be 3 times more 'for show' than usual. surprisingly enough, i was able to knock out 90 minutes of work this morning (even more surprising that i had 90 minutes of work to do in the first place). but the rest of my duties? benched until the rest of my team returns from vacation - apparently i haven't mastered the art of telepathy yet, so the rest of my stuff has to wait until january. out of my team of 8, one other dude joins me in our otherwise empty and quiet office. ok by me, it's just more quiet than usual, and i'm trying to find ways to occupy the next 6.5 hours of today, and planning for the next two days of this workweek, until another 4 day weekend awaits me. i'm not complaining. i know i have it made.

but as a mother. it's like - whoa. quiet? and i'm getting paid to just sit here and be on call? whoa. ok.

so i'm trying to wrack my underused brain and try to get some writing out, since i know it's not like my home environment is tranquil and peaceful. or stimulating. home = put the baby in the box. the jumper. the playpen. the diaper pad. he shat. he's hungry. daniel tiger. let's walk him around. dad - your turn? repeat. i love that kid, though. as the end of the year approaches, it's that time where i pretend to get all deep and insightful and shit and reflect on the past 365, who i am, who i've become, what i should do differently in the days ahead, how to improve upon myself, my life, goals, etc.

goals. ugh. what a downer. goals suck. i'd rather just do the shit i want. i can plan, sure. but goals nauseate me. maybe that's just because my annual self appraisal review at work is due and that's the absolute last task i feel like embarking upon. i'd rather be pregnant for a full day, 8 months, even. then do that stupid terrible review. but i digress.

obviously, this was a pretty big year for me and my family. i had a baby! my career took a backseat in my personal priorities, and now motherhood trumps all. and it's pretty awesome, no regrets. and after getting tipsy on 2 beers yesterday, i splurged and booked myself my first professional back massage for later this week, so there's that to look forward to. my 'treat yoself' gift for sleeping like a masochistic contortionist every single night to make sure my tit is within suckling grasp for the little piglet who refuses to sleep in his crib.

people ask me how i'm doing. how i've been. and i feel like all i ever have to say is the same thing. 'well, holden's good. still no sleep. it's great, though.' and then they ask about work. 'work's ok. it's flexible which is good.' are you still in chirp? 'kinda, yeah.' and that's all i really have to say about anything. honestly, the past two months i looked forward to christmas. just because it was an event and it was something with a set date, and it was an excuse to dress my son up in ridiculously adorable little old man outfits. now that that's passed, i put an insane amount of money on my credit card for an upcoming evening in wisconsin dells the first weekend in march. we'll take a family vaca to meet a good girlfriend of mine and her family. our babies will meet. we'll take them swimming. eat pizza. and i couldn't be more excited. so that's my life now. spending two+ months eagerly awaiting a swimming pizza family date. and being so fucking excited.

so why bother changing who i am. who i've become. what's to improve upon? what goals do i need to set - other than maybe more frequent family vacations. i don't know. this new year's deep thinking stuff is over my head now that i'm a grown up. sure, i still battle my own personal afflictions and conflicts. who doesn't? but the difference now is that i'm hardly one to really air any dirty laundry, as mundane as it could be - because that's not in the best interest of my son. i can't complain, so why should i? i shouldn't. so i won't. so instead, pizza. and waterslides.

but damn, that makes for one seriously boring blog post, doesn't it? i suppose instead, i could reflect on the musical selections i enjoyed in 2014. i can't really compose a top 10 list of 2014, for a multitude of reasons, mainly that i don't think i even listened to 10 different albums this year, released in 2014 or otherwise. but there were tracks i enjoyed. or older artists i really dug. maybe i could do a music spotlight? maybe that shit would give you an idea of how motherhood has really bored me down, MOMMED me, if you will.

there's no rhyme or reason, method or preconceived thought put into this list. but if you're still reading this now, you're obviously really bored (probably also another peer corporate hostage), so what the hell.

Run the Jewels - RTJ2
I never listened to the first release from Killer Mike and El-P. And quite honestly, I wouldn't haven't listened to this release either, had it not been released for free online and continuously plastered all over my Facebook feed. But enough peers with reasonable music taste cred continued to endorse it, so I figured what the hell. At first listen, it was too aggressive for my liking. Too many 'eat a dick' references. So many dicks. Every track, it seemed, talked about dicks. Dick - what a strong word. Not penis. Not dong. Not weiner. (ha, can you imagine? rick ross or some other heavy duty hardcore rapper going on about weiners? ok, i am lame now.) So the kinda feminist side of me was like, ehhh, I'm in my 30's. I don't need to listen to this--but the production did seem sleek. And as I continued to give the record a spin and a re-spin on my iPod commute, I found the album really slowly growing on me. It was aggressive. It was angry. And yes, it was a pair of 40 something year olds rapping about their lives, or probably some social consicious crap. I don't care. Content has never really driven why I've been drawn to specific hip hop releases or not. Slick beat? Smooth rhymes? Ok. Jodi 5, 10, hell even 3 years ago, could have written a concise and thorough analysis with research as to why this album was on her top preferences for the year. Jodi now is too tired. Seriously. So tired. So instead, I'm rambling about liking an album I really honestly have no personal connection to, other than the fact that sometimes I just need something loud and angry on my morning commute. Something to supplement the permacup of coffee attached to my right hand. And that track with Zach de la Rocha from Rage Against the Machine? Holy nostalgia. I love me my 90s, and Zach is still that angry dude. Close your eyes and count to fuck is a fucking tight track. As are several others on this record. So maybe this is even my fave album of the year? I don't fucking know, but this was definitely worth the free 99 to download.

Spoon - They Want My Soul
They say ('they'= everybody) that once you own one spoon album, you own them all. And in a sense, they're correct. Lead crooner Britt Daniel has a very distinctive voice, but not a whole lotta vocal range or fluctuation. AKA - all his shit sounds the same. But it's so fucking good, that I don't give a shit. Just b/c homeboy's vocals all sound comparable track to track doesn't mean that every release Spoon puts out there is solid gold, because it's not. (Transference, anyone?) But I didn't think this Austin based indie rock staple could issue another album as strong as 05's 'Gimme Fiction', or another record after 07's 'Ga Ga Ga Ga' that could peak my interest. So when I heard a new record was dropping this year, after only being lukewarm to Daniel's collaborative effort with Wolf Parade & Handsome Fur's Dan Boeckner Divine Fits, I didn't give a shit. Hunting out new music was more of a chore than a leisure this year, and I didn't really feel like boring myself with another 12 track of generic alt rock more suited for the NPR crowd than me. But I guess I am the NPR crowd, now, so I don't even know what I'm getting at there. So when my brother was visiting one day this summer, and we were conversing about new music, I asked him if he heard the new Spoon record as it was a common ground band of ours. He repeated my intro above - ie, once you have one record, you have 'em all, but I was bored. So I did something out of character and actually downloaded the new record. For full price. On iTunes. What?  Well, it turned out to be one of the smarter and better investments I made in the last year, because with tracks like "Let Me Be Mine," "Rent I Pay," "Do You," "Knock Knock Knock," and the album's moniker, it's a really solid fucking album. And I listened the shit out of it. Probably one of the only releases that kept me sane throughout the three months of maternity leave i endured earlier this year. I don't know exactly what it is about the record, but since procuring it in early August, They Want My Soul has been an easy go-to-favorite for my morning downtown commute.

TV on the Radio - Seeds
Another surprise for me. After eagerly awaiting the release of Nine Types of Light, only to be totally let down, I figured there was never going to be another 'Return to Cookie Mountain,' or even 'Dear Science'. And I'm right about the first assumption - there'll never be another RTCM. But Seeds, an impulse $5 buy on Amazon, actually is remisiscent to the poppier glitz jams found on DS. It's hardly fodder for any major publications top albums of the year, but as I stated earlier, I'm hardly the music critic I once was. For a lesiurely listen, this album was definitely worth the five bucks. The first six tracks on this record are a solid listen - with first single, "Happy Idiot," almost worth the five bucks alone. Opening track "Quartz," "Careful You," and "Could You," are all solid tracks, so the first half of the record is nonstop go go go. Perfect soundtrack for bouncing a non-tired little boy to sleep in your kitchen, half mad, running on fumes of the long day past. The second half of the album isn't bad, by any means, but the songs begin to blur together, giving off TV on the Radio syndrome, where everything just sounds harmonious, expensive, overly produced and good - but the exact same. Maybe good background music, but nothing demanding your attention, begging to be repeated or sticking out in your head like the first half. Like I said, totally worth the five bones, but not likely something I'll revisit a year from now.

The Jesus Mary Chain - Darklands
Obviously, this album wasn't released in 2014. And let me be upfront in my disappointment for all you so called 'friends,' who have known me long enough to know that what really makes me tick is80's and 90's cult alternative, and never once recommended this staple to my must have collection. I mean, seriously? How did I get by for so long without every pining and obsessing over this dark, broody Scottish quintet? Of course I knew the single everyone else knows, just like honey, but it wasn't until a couple weeks ago I decided to stream my iTunes radio station 80s alternative and found that the station was plumb full of tracks from the 1987 album Darklands. And how much I loved it. It made me angry at my younger self, who thought she was so indie cred, listening to the Dandy Warhols for so long in the 90's and 2000's, when obviously, they were and are a major TJMC rip-off. This morning, even, with my iPod on shuffle, the intro to Just Like Honey (not from this record, I know) started with the bump - ba-dump percussion intro, I skipped ahead (on shuffle) to a Deerhunter track, that had the IDENTICAL opening intro. I even skipped backwards to the JMC track again to make sure, and yep- total ripoff. So they obviously influenced a good majority of today's indie bands without most idiots like me being completely oblivious to their greatness/influence. But that's changed now. I feel like a dork, thinking I was so knowledgeable on a music scene I obviously still have a lot to learn on, and like an even bigger dork for onlyl learning more through iTunes radio stream - but whatever. This album is dark enough to get me through never sleeping, and matches my not depressed but not 100% happy all the time b/c the baby is a vampire and sucks all my lifeforce outta me days where I need a little comiserating. It fits right into my Depeche Mode/Tears for Fears/Cure/Echo & The Bunnymen/etc. mood playlists. Makes me feel normal. And resentful for all teens and youths who spent the 80s wasting their tastes on crap like Inyxs like my older bro, instead of tapping into the real greats. Thanks, Jamie - for passing on your love of Huey Lewis and leaving it to your kid sister to school you on the Pixies. But yeah, if you haven't heard this record yet - 2015 is your year to kick yourself in the ass and do so. It's fucking good.

Taylor Swift - 1989
This isn't a joke. And yeah, it's one hell of a transition from the Jesus Mary Chain. And I realize by admitting and listing this album, I am a sucker. But I'm also a mom, now. And Shake it Off is really fucking catchy. Even though I'm sick to death of it as it's my 7 month old son's favorite song (guaranteed to stop a melt down in its tracks every time), I still can appreciate it. Other than that ungodly awful fucking 'breakdown' or rap bit she does at the end. Fuck that. Seriously. No. But the album itself is surprisingly good. Even Pitchfork thinks so, although they didn't go so far as to admit it outright, just by naming two of the tracks on their top 100 songs of the year list. Ha. So this album was given to us as a xmas gift for Holden, who unwillingly and unknowingly suckered both his 80s/90s snob mom and death/black/gloom/scaryfuckingshit metal loving 'i hate pop music' dad into fans. What the hell, right? But if you listen to the album once, you'll see that it's catchy. Listen a second time, the songs will linger in your head. A third time? and you're screwed. You'll have to admit it's actually good, and you like it. Unless you have better taste than me and my family, which is very possible. But whatever. I think it's funny. I fully admit liking pop music, I get a kick outta the fact that my son and husband do, too.

Other releases that got more than a couple spins this year include Beyonce's self-titled - which I know was released in December of 2013, but still had a lot of spillover in the first half of the year as my prego diva soundtrack; Haim was on repeat from later 2013 as well; Veruca Salt's 'American Thighs' received a lot of play in anticipation of the July 12th concert I caught with my cousin at Lincoln Hall - the one and only show I made it out to this year - and ohmannnn what a drunken dream that show turned out to be. . . ; and a late record that surprised me as an impulse whim was the Charli XCX record. Total bubblegum snotty girl pop at its best and worst - some of the tracks like the Vampire Weekend featured "Need Ur Luv" are fucking catchy as hell. Perfect baby rocking in the kitchen music, which is pretty much every night.

Music. I miss hunting for it. I miss talking about it. I miss listening to it. I never thought I'd be one of those people who you'd ask, 'what are you currently listening to these days' and would say, 'eh nothing new, really'. I always thought those people were insane. Turns out, those people had families. And more important things to do than impress random hipsters with bar music chat. Although, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss a good night out at the Green Eye or The Whistler, fancy overpriced craft beer or bourbon concoction in hand, half in the bag rambling about the next big thing. There's always 2015, I suppose.

At this point I've succeeded in killing nearly 90 minutes on the clock and the first coffee of the day is wearing off. I think I've accomplished a sufficient ramble for the day, month, year, although we'll see if any more caffeine inspires the old rusty wheels in the noggin another day this week. Wednesday at 3:00pm is still 48+ hours out there. . . .

when i grow up.

When I was a teenager, all I dreamed of was getting out of my ho-bunk hometown and becoming myself. Finding an identity which I had no idea existed. I dreamed of becoming famous - whether it be as a writer, a broadcaster, an actress, or maybe one day accidentally discovering I could sing - it didn't matter. Big city lights, exciting new friends, a college education and a sure fire path on to stardom - or at the very least, success, however that was defined, was what I had my mind set on. To make sure I accomplished these feats, I excelled through school, worked my little ass off at every after school job imaginable and participated in every extracurricular activity my farm town community offered. Forensics, theater, Spanish club, yearbook, track and field, National Honor Society, mentoring younger students, leading the community haunted house, class secretary, participating in the mock accidents used to train EMTs, hell, I was even the president of the non-drinking club. You name it, I did it.

I went to college. Continued to get good grades and work part-time jobs, never taking any summers or other time off. I eventually saved enough cash to move to the city, and here I am, 8 years and counting in Chicago. It's my home. I've built a pretty impressive roster of solid friendships, nabbed a husband, added some decent professional experience to my resume, and even dabbled in the 'show business' I dreamed of volunteering for the Chicago Independent Radio Project. It's been real. 

Have I attained the dream I so often pined over in my youthful years? Have I finally achieved the 'be' in the infamous 'What do you want to 'be' when you grow up' mission? Well, if you told 15 year old Jodi where 31 year old Jodi is, I'm not sure if she'd agree or disagree. I like to think she'd be pretty pleased, however. Very few individuals ever get to nail down their dream - whether it's stardom and fame, owning your own business and becoming your own boss, or becoming an astronaut, whatever. And I don't think the issue particularly lies with individuals not possessing the drive, or even resources, because I am a bit of a dreamer in that regard, but of knowing precisely what your dream is. I guess I never really knew what mine is/was. As far as possessing/not possessing the resources, I call it bluff - I myself, have a bit of a 'rags to riches' tale. I don't want to exaggerate, because I know many that experienced more poverty and less than ideal living situations growing up, but anyone who knows me can attest that I've been financially responsible and accountable for myself since I began bussing tables at age 14. My mom wasn't around very much in my high school years (she worked the night shift), and the home life was a far fetch from Leave it to Beaver. I'll spare the details, because they don't really matter. 

What I'm getting at is that I worked hard, and now I'm working a career type job with a respectable salary, holding my own in one of the largest city's in the country, surrounded with a solid network of loved ones, and am comfortable with my life. But back to the point at hand, am I famous? No. Am I even still writing? Not really - although I guess when I get hit by a thought and it doesn't immediately fall away, (like what I hope this rambling blog post manages to accomplish), I give it my best effort to document as cohesively as I can. But am I that 'be'? Am I even 'grown up'? I'm not sure. Maybe. Maybe not. But I'm here. And my day to day is like every other day. There's no major exciting points to peer ahead to in the regard of next career steps, or education, although the idea of getting my MBA is still out there. Some day.

But I have to step back and not take my accomplishments, as menial and 'boring' as they may sound to me, for granted. I am educated. I am skilled. I am able to provide a comfortable living for my family. Hell - this year alone, I managed to pay off the remainder of my student loans (which was a good chunk of $$), fund my husband's college tuition for his final three semesters (he graduates in 12 days), AND give birth to a baby boy. I think 2014 was a pretty accomplished year, if I may say so. The fact that I grew up dirt broke, and now am able to afford tuition for two college educations, medical expenses for a new human being, while still being comfortable enough to buy decent gifts for the upcoming holiday makes me feel like I 'made it' in my book. At least in the consolatory, I'm not famous but I'm still not doing half bad way.

But anyway. That's me, now. So all of those dreams I harbored. What became of those? How many years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds - time was spent madly scribbling angsty poetry or stories only to be stashed away in forgotten shoe boxes under my bed? Acting like a dramatic nut job in hopes of finding my place in the center of the world's attention? Singing deliriously loud and off-key, daydreaming of one day being 'discovered'? A lot. I was a pretty dramatic kid. And I guess I still can be. 

But it wasn't until the other night, when it hit me. That all of those dreams, efforts. The hard work. The sacrifices. The broken hearts. The hours logged, memorizing the angstiest of angsty songs, only to be sung to my shower head. The life I've spent the last 31 years leading. It's all led up to now. And on Sunday, November 30th, 2014, I for the first time, fully appreciated and understood the meaning of it all up until this point.

In May I had a son. Most of you reading this have either met him, seen (way too many - sorry, guys) photos on social media, or at least read about how terribly miserable he made me on my third month of maternity leave on this blog. It goes without saying, he's kind of my everything - I almost ended that sentence saying 'these days', but then realized, no, he's pretty much my everything for always. And that's a gift. He's my little dude and I love the bejeezus out of him, even when he's a jerk and screams at me for no apparent reason. But this particular post isn't about me reinstating my obvious maternal affections for my son. Or even about my son. But about me. And where I'm at. So now that I've put the disclaimer out that my little dude is my bb boy for lyfe, I can continue. 

Two nights ago was just a normal night, like any other. It was the last evening coming off of a four day holiday weekend, my fifth consecutive day with my son in a row. I was returning to work the next morning, and while I wasn't looking forward to it at all (because let's be honest, who is eager to get back to work after a mini-break?), I wasn't really dreading it, either - because it meant a real lunch break, and 8 consecutive hours meltdown-free. It was just another night. I lounged lazily on our lint balled maroonish brown over sized couch cover, Absent mindedly swiping my iPhone screen, crushing the candies, or sodas, or whatever the hell zombie puzzle app was 'engaging' me for the moment. I let my husband take a turn to soothe the baby, as he was a particular firecracker on this day. I'm proud to say (but maybe I shouldn't be?) that I've gotten pretty good at toning out the 'I hate this,' 'I'm bored,' and 'I'm angry' cries, so the fact that Holden was howling furiously in the kitchen, a mere 30 feet away, wasn't phasing me in the slightest. Won't he go to bed, I signed to myself. Candy swipe, sugar ball, crush! Shit the owl tipped over, swipe, swipe, retry. I'm out of lives. Holden continues crying. I glance at the time, it's only 6:12. Bed time is at 7:00. Tylenol for the  mystery teeth that will seemingly never appear, yet successfully manage to murder my son's mouth has already been administered. Frozen washcloth devoured. What does this leave now? Well, I'm out of virtual lives on all brainless iPhone games. Social media is only telling me that Nicole's still selling more jewelry, there's (still) a never ending supply of cat photo memes, some awkward selfies of friend's little sisters, and there are only so many mommy Huffington Post links I can continue to read. My outfit's already laid out for the morning, my work bag packed, and there aren't any more chores I can last resort attend to. He's still crying. It's 6:14.

I deep sigh and shuffle to the unlit kitchen, where my exhausted husband is pacing and rocking, screaming demon laid out in his arms, and gives me the defensive look of "I've got this, but goddamn it I'm exasperated,". I give a half 'hang in there' smile and trudge to the baby station and pick up the multi-colored Maya Wrap sling. I grudgingly slip it over my left shoulder and adjust the ring. I walk back into the kitchen, and give Vincent the 'gimme the baby, I guess' look of defeat. He appreciatively forks the kiddo over, inching him into the cocoon I've nested in the sling for the little hellion. Holden immediately quiets. Vincent rolls his eyes in defeat, and I'm both secretly disappointed and pleased. Disappointed that it looks like my night is shot until the little devil conks out, but half satisfied that he reacted to his mother's touch.

Alright kiddo, we're in this together, now. Vincent leaves the kitchen. The lights are still out. It's 6:17. Holden is snugly curled up on the right side of my upper torso, with his legs dangling on each side of my hip. I know that I need to start talking, and fast, to keep the baby appeased from having another melt-down. He's on the 'I'm going to fight sleep like a mother fucker, you can't trick me out of this, I'm pissed off but exhausted, but no, sleep, no--never ever, uh uh' bring of freaking out. 'Hey baby boy,' I quietly hum into his ear, softly bouncing around like a mama kangaroo. "Let's find some songs, you and me. Mommy thinks it's time for a dance party, whaddya say,'. He says nothing, but continues quickening his breath, letting me know my time is limited, so I better pick something good. In a frenzy, I make a half assed 'calm' iTunes playlist on our ancient original iPod that only works in our kitchen docking station, due to  faulty worn out wiring in the headphone jack. I don't even recall at this point what I've selected, but I hit Play.

First up, is Adele, "Rolling in the Deep." I never really got into Adele, a couple of her songs were more less guilty pleasures, but I figure her voice and the instrumentation has to be a decent start to getting the kiddo to unwind. It's not working. I decide to whip out my secret weapon, my off key vocal chords, and pretend to sing along to the every other word I managed to pick up. He responds. His head quits twitching from side to side, looking for anything to stimulate him in the kitchen. He rests his head on my right breast, sighs, and looks up at me, with wide, but heavy eyelids. Adele ends. Next up, Ani DiFranco's "Little Plastic Castles." Here's where it hit me, folks. 

Ani DiFranco was never as huge of an influence to me as say, Tori Amos or Fiona Apple. She was more of the cousin to my favorite female soloists, but I always had a sort of soft spot for a couple handful of songs from her 90's catalog, this particular track topping that list. I haven't listened to this song in years. Years and years. And my first instinct was to head to the iPod and hit Next, to see if there was anything better on the playlist. But instead, I notice he seems to be calmed by the soft acoustic opening intro of the guitar strums. So I bounce with him and sway a little softer and slowly than with Adele. And I sing to him. And miraculously, I know every. single. word. And I'm not even sure at what point it happened, but I lost myself. In the song. In the moment. In the music. In the intimacy, the special moment, I was sharing with my son. His eyes continued to get heavy, but as I sang - no longer in my self conscious screeching, but full-hearted, lung emptying song, I realized this was it. What I'm here for. What I've been working towards. I finally was living my life to the fullest. This was my moment. Having this beautiful, healthy, satisfied baby boy, snuggled onto my chest. Feeling loved and comforted by me, reliving my teenage/early 20s songs. Never did I expect in a million years  that I would ever have an audience, let alone, such a special one, to belting out the lyrics, 'I wish they could see us now, in leather bras and rubber shorts - like some ridiculous team uniform, for some ridiculous new sport - quick, someone call the girl police and file - a - re-port.' It was a moment. We were transfixed and it was magic. 

The dance and sing-a-long didn't end there. I think we finished up with some Final Fantasy, Okkervil River, Grizzly Bear, Beach House, Bon Iver - and of course Hozier because it's one of 3 songs Holden LOVES. (Seriously, between the theme song to Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, Taylor Swift's 'Shake it Off,' and Hozier's "Take Me to Church," this kiddo would be content never hearing anything else ever again. But that would drive mommy mad, it almost has.) I continued to croon and sway, and eventually the little man's eyes fell shut. We drifted to the bedroom, where I laid him out on the bed for his rocket-ship sleep sack and I wish I could say he dreamily remained asleep and gave us no problems and slept through the night for the first time -but of course that didn't happen. He woke up the minute his blonde messy head hit the mattress, alert, betrayed and pissed off, only to keep battling me for the next 25 minutes for a feeding and cuddle session, fighting like hell against the crib. And I'm beginning to be convinced that I'll never sleep through 8 consecutive hours of sleep. That there will always be a monster demanding my teet. But that's not the point.

The point is, all those years of my life. The earlier life. The life leading up to now. The different experiences - efforts, trials and tribulations - they were training. Even the angsty sing-alongs and angry poetry. The shitty ex boyfriends breaking my heart, ultimately teaching me what I do deserve. The crappy after school jobs, which only raised the bar in my expectations for a better life. All of it. It helped me get to where I am today, and taught me all that I know. So I could experience that one pure, untainted, real moment. Pure love. Bonding with another human being who knew me as his sole source of comfort, in that moment. Lost in song and dance and love.

It was something. And while 14 year old Jodi may not have realized it, and even 31 year old Jodi didn't know it until two nights ago, I finally had a taste of what it was I've unknowingly aspired to be, my whole life.

It was better than I could have ever dreamed.

it's happening (again).

my mind is whirring at a million miles per hour. my physical being, feels jolted. by electricity or some sort of urgency. in actuality, it's most likely an over measured french press with an abundance of more caffeine than is good for me (or anyone, for that matter). i thought i could slow it down with a heavy lunch (chipotle instead of my trader joe's salad). but that didn't help. i thought maybe chugging some water would dillute the caffeine in my being, but no dice.

so it leads me to wonder if the caffeine really is to blame. or if its just a thing i'm going through. or maybe, i'm finally having a nervous breakdown resulting from not sleeping 8 consecutive hours for the past 6+ months.

something makes me think though, that it's something else entirely. earlier this morning, david lynch and mark frost confirmed that they were bringing twin peaks back for nine new episodes on showtime in 2016. anyone can google the news release and find out all the exciting details (lynch is directing all 9 episodes! if the first season back is a success, more could possibly come in the future!), but it's more than the fact that my fave show of all time is coming back, hopefully to answer many of the open ended cliff hanger questions that have haunted myself amongst millions of other fans to the cult classic tv show. (is coop still stuck in the black lodge? did anyone survive the exploding bank? where's bob? will we ever get a glimpse of the white lodge? will bowie's secret character from fire walk with me ever be revealed/referenced?) i could go on for posts and posts about how excited i am for the return of this show. but that's not what this is about, i don't think.

instead, it was about this time, six years ago, that i first introduced myself to twin peaks. and the feeling of awe that overtook me, consumed me when watching this quirky mini drama classic. the deep feelings of 'despair,' and loneliness that were taking over my real life in my real world. how TP was my escape mechanism. feeling trapped, in the polar vortex of '08 before the polar vortex became a thing in 2013. surviving my first real break-up- and realizing i had only 1 friend in the biggest city i'd ever resided in. growing up, independently, and being really bummed about it. now, i look back at that winter, when agent cooper, shelly, norma, bob, and hell, even dum-dum deputy andy, were my closest allies, and i wish i could live it all over again. the sadness. the loneliness. and look back at 25 year old jodi and tell her, DUDE, seriously, it gets better than this. enjoy your me/alone time and this opportunity to find yourself. soak it all in. grow, grow, grow. it hurt at the time, but the months i spent between my scratchy sheets, alone with an orange furball, under the twinkling of brokeass christmas lights illuminating my bedroom wall, that cold ass winter was the turning point in my adulthood, from post collegiate wisconsin transplant to independent, youthful city jodi to big girl job mom jodi. the nucleus of my 20's.  i wish i could time travel and screw it all up and be sad all over again. why the hell i'd want to do that, no idea. but it sounds so appealing. ordering sarpinos hawaiian lover pizzas and knowing the characters in david lynch's screwy universe had it worse off than me.

i survived that winter. and came out a stronger woman from it.

now since i've heard the news of its upcoming return (but-how-the-hell-will-i-handle-waiting-2-years?! AND do-i-have-to-buy-cable-now??), i've had the haunting chorus of beach house's 'silver soul' on repeat in my head non-stop (it's happening a-geh-eh-ah-eh-ah-ennnnnn). which then just makes me want to re-read watership down (as that was the book club read in 2009 when i was obsessing over Beach Houses' Teen Dream) and rewatch the two seasons of twin peaks. all. right. now. beach house. twin peaks. watership down. warm blankets. acid washed jeans. bright red shorter hair than i'm even rocking now. even maybe pick up some fake glasses to feel more like authentic vintage jodi. i could go without the heart break and loneliness, although something tells me i'll never be lonely ever again, even when i want to be, thanks to my main lil man HRS. i yearn for the feeling of unknown, and conflicting comfort of discomforted solidarity.

i'm happy to have a family at home. and i'm happy to have security. and love. but i'm even more happy by the fact that i'm starting to find the pieces are slowly coming together, albeit slowly, and over gradual time, of me finding me again. the jodi's jodi i referenced in my former posting is starting to show glimmers of remembrance to herself. and if it means something as simple as rewatching an old favorite cult classic tv binge, sign me up.

i just wish the knowledge that all of these vices i yearn for are within my fingertips' reach would be enough to get the shaking to stop, or at least slow down. i guess i can't handle my blonde roast. or maybe, it's my subconcious telling me bigger things are on the horizon. familiarity of motherhood is kicking in, and things aren't going to be as tumultuous. my reigns are getting tighter. and the new experiences of this past year - both professionally and personally, are going to align and become more syncronized. and these hidden clues from my yesteryears will start to piece the whole damn thing together, and i'll find myself once again. my identity as jodi in her thirties has been in question, who she really is. and i know motherhood plays a huge crucial role in this transition of my fourth decade. it's these glimmers of my past, that are going to help solidify the missing identity i've been struggling with the past year.

delicious cups of coffee. it's happening again.

too much to be coincidence, is it? even if it is, it's a fun one.

or maybe, i just really need a nap. either way, thank god it's fall. 

motherhood: or - multiple identities. aka - who the hell am i?

(me - working my job job while also being a mom, while trying to be jodi jodi-triple threat).

yesterday evening my husband and i spent the greater part of it bickering. i don't know about what. i don't think he does either. we've both been spinning our propellers 100 million miles an hour non-stop since the birth of our son this past may. between work, school (for him), house work and mother/father duties, we're lucky if we catch ten minutes to bathe without juggling three other tasks simultaneously. (i can't tell/emphasize enough how much you can get done while brushing your teeth - emptying the bathroom garbage (although probably not the most sanitary example), applying facial moisturizer, feeding the cats, picking up the 5,000 baby toys/clothing articles/giant fisher price mechanisms, etc).

for a cool off, and because i needed tampons. (because yay! periods come back after you pop out a kid, most of the time lucky moms don't get the visit from their aunt flo for upwards of a year, but lucky me i scored the jackpot a fresh 3 months post-partum), i escaped for a stroll to walgreens. this was, of course, after we rushed groceries (mid-bicker), a full day of work, breast milk equipment break-down/clean-up and milk storage, dinner, baby garbage pick-up, and putting down a 4 month old who didn't want to go to bed (only an hour, this time). so, maybe 7:45pm? i finally had the 'freedom' to pick up tampons at walgreens. across the street. so i did. (and while i was at it, a bag of pretzels, a six pack of paper towels and eye makeup remover, because god knows when i'd be able to pick these necessities up again - ok, the pretzels weren't as big of a necessity, but i wanted them. IT'S THE SIMPLE PLEASURES, YOU GUYS).

as i was walking the half block away from my humble, yet chaotic and tension filled abode, i was struck with the realization that i hadn't seen night time in a long time. seriously. the night sky. the cool, crisp air and sounds the city makes. the twinkling street lights (because let's face it, them's the closest we'll get to seeing stars or any sort of constellations on western avenue in chicago). the glowing stop lights. the 'quiet'. ok, the city isn't quiet. but compared to a household of stressed out parents and a teething baby, it's the closest thing to quiet i get the luxury of experiencing these days. i couldn't believe it. that i couldn't recall the last time i had been outside - a) without rushing somewhere; b) in the dark. it was insane, the freedoms you take for granted.

i wished more than i could even bear to fathom wishing that i had the freedom to take a stroll to the river park, a mere half mile away. to stroll through/along the paths, winding along the river, to smell the smells, even of the stinky sewage system, and take in the sights of the changing leaves and swaying trees. but i knew i had a short leash. my husband was cranking away at his homework assignment, which his partner had abandoned all co-responsibilities of, eating away at his patience and mood even more than our already short fuses had demolished. i needed to get home so he could wrap up his work in case our little one decided he wanted to holler at us some more.

so i grabbed the necessities (tampons! what a treat!) and walked back home. it made me miss the days where we lived in (gulp) lakeview. our 'honeymoon' period. where we rushed to get away from our basement dungeon in wicker park and took the first place we could find a mere two weeks before our impromptu-ish wedding and wound up on the cusp of boystown, wrigleyville and lincoln park - not exactly our dream neighborhood, and not the most spacious of living situations, but it fit our needs for the time we were there. we were married and had no real responsibilities, other than our jobs at the time. nighttime strolls along the lakefront. holding hands. regular rounds of husband/wife duties (wink, wink). hands in chains, arms around one another's waists. regular record shop gluttony and non-stop treats (mini oberweiss kegs and pizza takeout boxes were a regular in our fridge, now it's plum full of breast milk, literally). 

i'm ok with the honeymoon ending. it's only natural, of course. and now, 'we're parents and our priorities have shifted. this too, is worth it. tiring, but so worth it. but sometimes, i miss the opportunity to just breathe. and take a walk in the evening. the first opportunity i've had to collect my thoughts and begin writing, for example, as i type this now, is in a hidden locked room at my work. tubes and funnels connected to my tits, whirring and pumping away at my breasts like a lactating cow. on the lap top. even carrie bradshaw can't beat this crazy, multi-faceted life. jodi today is not jodi five years ago. or jodi three years ago. or jodi two years ago. jodi one year ago recently discovered she was pregnant, so she had an inkling her life was about to change. but she had no idea to what extent.

(boob break - time to dissassemble the stanley kubrick space odyssey resembling apparatus that provides my son's sole life source).

ok. so i'm back. anyway, i guess i'm just writing this because it's the first time a fluid series of somewhat sensible thoughts have popped into my head for days. (i blame the french press starbuck's blonde roast, sitting to my left, just waiting to be dumped and cleaned of its soggy grinds). 

i guess i should apologize to my husband. i mean, i know i should. but for what, i'm not sure. and how does one who hasn't slept or thoroughly enjoyed one's full day in months provide a sincere sounding apology, anyway?even when you mean it, something as simple as saying 'i'm sorry,' it comes out sounding flat, robotic. forced. (because the only emotion i feel capable of expressing is anxiety, when my son is screaming or whimpering in the middle of the night).  especially when you don't know what you're apologizing for? (other than being a snippy, stressed out mess, who doesn't even realize when she's being unreasonable). is that sufficient? i don't know. it's seriously like my mind races a million miles a minute, always thinking of something else i need to do. like right now, at my cubicle (the boob machine has since been put to the side until the next 'milking,' scheduled for 1:00pm, sharp). i'm thinking about how badly i need to rush my lunch break. run, on my hobbled knee (more on that later), to state street, approximately 2/3rds of  a mile from my office, to the over priced express store, in efforts of buying a pair or two of presentable slacks that will fit me for work. due to summer, i got away with wearing pencil skirts and dresses to the office the past month and a half since i finally had an excuse to wear clothing since holden joined us. now that it's starting to transition to fall weather, i realized that none of my work pants - even my skinny-jodi-hasn't-fit-in-these-for-four-plus-years pants don't fit me anymore. i got dressed this morning in an outfit that was too tight for me before i was pregnant this morning and realized i had to change because it looked like i was donning hot pink and black garbage bags. and not in a flattering way. even my fucking socks are stretched out from storing my sausage feet and log cankles, every pair - bunching around my ankles. it's the effing worst. most people would say - fantastic! you're losing weight! i wish i could lose the baby weight that easily. and i won't lie - it;s a great 'side effect' of breastfeeding. but i keep this in check in the back of my head.

'side effect.' because i know damn well as soon as i detatch that 17 pounder off my breasts, those extra 8+ pre-pregnancy pounds will come back with a vengeance, and likely invite some of their grubhub induced friends. but i don't want my kid sick. so i'm going to keep this 'no wine for me,' diet up through at least the winter, for the kid's sake. (and i guess my waist line's). but even losing all this weight - doesn't mean i have a confident bikini bod. any woman (that's normal and not megan fox) who's birthed a kid, knows your body is never the same. everything is just, loose. and i don't think it would be that difficult to tone, firm up - had i had the time. or able body. somehow, in between being held hostage on my couch and bed and cubicle, i managed to sprain my knee. no idea how, just did. i know this because i was urgent care bound on labor day - the only day i had 'off' from work, due to my super tender/painful knee. x-rays proved it wasn't a fracture or anything, but i was given direction to see my primary care doctor (which i don't have, because i don't get sick) to make sure i didn't pull a ligament or something. it's feeling better now, but it's also bound in an ace bandage 18 hours of the day and doped up on my mom's smuggled 800 milligram ibuprofen (because guess what, breastfeeding moms can't even use the prescribed external joint pain ointment i received from the ER doc).

damn. i sound like a complete woe is me case right now. and as you can see, can't effectively finish any thought i begin. that's ok. that's me, these days.

i should really clarify - i'm not depressed. or even sad, really.

for the most part, i feel genuinely fulfilled. i have a great job that allows me to work from home one day a week and lets me leave to go home on time, allowing me to juggle the million at home responsibilities that come with being a mom. it also foots our bills and allows my family and i to live comfortably.

my husband is a great partner. sure, there are many areas we need to improve upon. but i think that comes with any relationship 4+ years in the making, and add the stressor of first time parenthood of an infant, and you lose every iota of your self being and independence, which i think would even be prioritized over couplehood - so unfortunately, our next 3 day getaway for a couple's retreat to mexico is going to be put on hold for a bit. we're strong folks, we can do it. but i'd be lying through my teeth if i said i i wouldn't give anything in the world (aside from my son, 'ha, ha'), to crank up the romance dial a couple full spins, even for 3 hours on one night. (hey, anyone wanna babysit????) but vincent is a fantastic father. he brings joy to our son and has outshone my expectations (that i always knew he could fulfill) with our baby boy, so since holden is my number one now, v's fatherhood card is my  number two. 

even though we couldn't relocate to a bigger pad this year, we do have a nice, sufficient apartment, in a safe and convenient neighborhood. yes, we have to figure out our 3-5 year plan soon, because i don't think the city will be the best long term fit for holden to grow up in (schools, people, i now completely understand why my mom raised me in what i deemed boring village of 789 - the only school fees were a $7 'towel fee' for phys. ed, and $1.50 lunch tickets - not to mention, i could safely walk to/from school predator free). but for now, we're good. we have storage. we have a comfy sized bedroom, in which our little burrito babe snuggles with us.

i'm relatively healthy. ok, i'm healthy. i just am pissed about having a mystery bum knee. but considering my scares with breast cancer among other bullshit in the past few years, i'm grateful that all is good for now.

and of course, my son. you didn't think i would skip over him, would you? it's crazy. four months, five days ago. my life changed forever.mother's day, 2014. how fitting. best gift ever. i mean, of course i knew it would. and he's the main reason for waking up in the morning. he's my everything. 100% dependent on me and vincent. he's beautiful. when co-workers who've never as much as said 'good morning' to me 6 months ago now ask me how my son is doing, i can't help myself but ramble on and beyond the expected 'great' response. homeboy is healthy, happy (when he's not teething or getting his immunizations - yikes), and is shining more and more every day. whether it's his focus on new toys, firmer grasps, louder sounds, new movements, or further engagement with social interactions, he's blossoming into his own person - finally. words can't really do it justice. if you're a parent, you get it. if you're not, you probably have a good idea, anyway. if you're a cat or dog person, just magnify it times a million, and you'll have an idea of the heartstrings a little you can invoke. i love my holden. so very, fucking much. everyday, i push myself beyond my boundaries to make sure i can provide the best home and life possible for him. even when i'm running on no sleep. and the little sleep i do manage to accumulate is interrupted, because the heat's not yet on in our apartment and there's a draft in our window and H sleeps better in the crook of mom's protective arm, nuzzling my breast and/or chin. i'm probably 30X more likely to develop scoliosis 'sleeping' at the contortionist like angle/positions i'm in these days, but it's the instinctive mama bear coming out of me. i just love him so much. and i do love sharing his (what i deem) adorable progress pics blasting all over social media (sorry guys). 

but i'm also a real person. and so is my husband. and so is my son.

real life isn't a fantasy. and it's not perfect. and it's not easy. it's hard. fucking. work.

so, i guess in my historical writing fashion, my voice can tend to be on the pessimistic side. i don't' mean to just vent and complain. or whine, or whatever. but sometimes, it's healthy to just put everything out there in words. get my voice out, heard. even if it's only for my own benefit. it's so easy to broadcast the positive - the smiley pics. poke fun at the videos of H crying. show off his new 'dancing' moves. 'look at my baby boy's!'

but it's a little bit harder to showcase the reality of the situation. the loss of self identity. all this week, i've been blasting the pixies discography on my iPod on my morning commute to work. it's the one of very few albums that i don't associate with any past or current relationships, my son, jobs, or any other part of my life, except me. it's music for me. and it's kind of 'hard' music. at least, just distorted and rough around the edges for me to feel ok to seethe a little bit. if not the pixies, nirvana's 'never mind'. or sleater kinney's 'the woods.' these albums are enough for me to exhale deeply and know that i have at least 45 minutes to myself and my thoughts, where it's ok to just sit down and not rush around doing 18,000 things at once. therapy for mom, i guess.

writing this is kind of like that, too. makes me feel human again. reminds me who jodi robin root was/is, even with her new surname and life responsibilities. i'm discovering now, the challenges and reality of balancing multiple identities. 

corporate/professional office program manager jodi. 

boob wielding/sing songy/diaper bag slinging 'holdie's mom' (my user name for kim kardashian's hollywood - i wish i was kidding) (jodi). 

bill paying, household chore co-partner, supportive as i can be, (but not always the most romantic or sympathetic) wife to vincent. i'll admit, work's needed there - on both our ends, but i do love my husband tremendously, even if i have trouble showing it on some days.

between these three roles, i somehow try my damndest to stay in communication with my supportive girlfriends, both in the city and out. turns out that text messaging is the only rope tethering me to these relationships, and i'm fortunate as hell to have understanding ladies in my life. every now and then i'll even hit the jackpot and one will come over to visit me and the screamo creature - so that's role number 4: friend jodi. (i miss you guys!) 

that leaves my last hat - jodi's jodi. i'm finding it harder and harder to remember her and hang out with her. but i think she's the core to the rest of these identities. so i'm doing my damndest to not forget her, and dig her out. even if she only appears for an hour a day, seething to the pixies on her iPod commute. being amazed at the liberation she feels on a night time stroll to the local drugstore. taking a 10 minute nightly bath. she'll come back, someday. but for now, mommy & corporate jodi have to take reign. 

hopefully, wife jodi and jodi jodi will hang on for a bit - as they're the real fire/core of my being. i guess sacrificing their on-air time and driving them behind the scenes is really the fuel to ensuring mommy/corporate jodi can exist.

life's tough. but it sure beats just going to work and coming home to an empty apartment every day and drinking it all away into an oblivious blur. (although i'd be lying if i said that most days this didn't seem like an exotic vacation - just one, rough bender).

month 4 - this is an update. 

maybe i'll just make time for some more 7:45 pm trips to walgreens. that's the closest to serenity i need. tampons and pretzels - the simple things.

a working mom. (and her son)

well, i've been back to work for 2 weeks and 3 days. and guess what? it's not all that bad. it really isn't. turns out, a little breather from my H man has helped me regain my (non-mom) identity and has helped whip me back to being jodi more than i thought possible. that, and squeezing into pencil skirts, high heels and getting my 'aggressive way of getting the job done' (my boss's words, not mine) - my confidence is back.

sure, i have to wake up at 5:30/45, vs. my previous 7am alarm, and mornings are probably the most chaotic part of my day. i wake up, rush to apply my face and fix my hair as fast as possible as my husband and i compete for bathroom time. 10-15 minutes in the bathroom, tops. then i struggle to get my clothes, jewelry, deodorant, perfume applied, all while keeping an ear open for holdie's morning waking wimpers. i fly through assembling my breast pump. pack my lunch. get my work bag ready. get holden's outfit laid out. pack his diaper bag for grandma/pa's house. then i quietly tiptoe into the bedroom and give him his breakfast feeding in hopes that he stays asleep, so i'll be able to pump my access milk, clean/un/reassemble the pump and make the bed. all before waking him again - to get him dressed, lotioned, rediapered and in the car seat for grandma. all this in less than 90 minutes, not stopping once. it's fun. it's my new routine.

work itself is a walk in the park. apparently my brain is still in tact, and i already feel like the nucleus of my team again. it's almost too easy, though - compared to motherhood. people keep asking me how my return to work is/was - and at first i said what i was supposed to - 'sad.' and then once i realized how nice it is/was to have lunch breaks, use my brain and wear real clothes again, i said 'sad vacation' b/c it was so much easier, but i missed my man. and then i promptly built a holdie shrine in my cube, complete with holdie coffee mug and rotating screen savers, and now i say, 'it's fine.' because guess what? it feels good to make money again. and use my brain. and have people acknowledge that i look great because hell yeah, i lost nearly 50 pounds! i'm back to my prepregnancy birth weight? halleluljah breast feeding is all i can say to that. ima feed this kid with my boobs forever. well, maybe not blossom forever, but as long as i can upwards to a year. i feel great, holdie hasn't gotten sick once, and it's not breaking my bank. work has been super accommodating in providing a space to pump, let me work remote on fridays and not guilt tripping me into staying late for meetings that my boss typically would have in the past. plus, there's this empowering feeling of balancing professionalism/career along with motherhood. at first it was awkward, sneaking my black pump tote bag into the conference room and i'd get nervous people walking by would see the 'do not disturb' sign on the door, hear the whirring of my breastpump and feel uncomfortable. now i wear that bag like a badge of pride, and i don't care who knows that i provide the best possible nourishment possible for my baby boy, along with balancing the life of a corporate professional. it's my link to being holden's mommy while still being program manager jodi. it's the yin to my yang.

so yeah, work's going a-ok.

but enough about me and my transition - let's talk holdie! the little bear is growing before my very eyes. every day there seems to be a new discovery or development. my lil munchkin isn't very little anymore. kid's at least 15 pounds! fits snugly in 6 month clothes, has a big ole soccer ball head. he's become obsessed with his hands - eating, sucking, eating some more. his head control is considerably better - if it wasn't so huge, he'd have it down 100%. dude even helps out with diaper changes and lifts his lil legs up in a fetal position every time we remove/put on a new diaper. yesterday i heard the most musical sound in my 31 years - a sneak peek at his laugh. not the dummy beavis/butthead 'uh huh huh' chuckle he's been playing around with, but a genuine high pitched musical chime of laughter in the midst of a daddy dancing spree after his bath. i heard it twice. vin's heard it a few more times. i fell in love all over with life and my son and my family all over again. that's not all - h has been sleeping even better! (I HOPE THIS DOESN'T JINX IT). he's been going down earlier in the night, around 7, 7:30 vs. 8, 8:30 and staying down until between 2-3am for a feeding, to wake again when i do between 5-5:30, and goes back to sleep until 6:45 when i wake him up to go to his grandparents - unless it's a monday when vin has him or a friday when he stays home or the weekend - where he'll usually stay asleep until at least 730-8 or so. it's incredible. but my biology still hasn't fully adjusted to the new schedule, and i'm hoping my supply doesn't take a hit as a result - cuz this kid is never not hungry. thankfully we can introduce solids next month and that should help with his nonstop appetite a bit.

i can't. fucking. wait. to open the fisher price jumparoo we got in the mail yesterday. holdie bomb will be a jumping machine! i love my baby boy. can't believe it's already been 14 and a half weeks. next thing i know, he'll be eating real foods and babbling away.

in conclusion, august has been a good month. h man still has his angry fussy days where mom and dad can do no good. he still has his mean bully moments (like the time he gave me a hickey and bruised my left breast (on purpose, too, i'm convinced because i had the audacity to try and eat my own sandwich instead of watching him eat his), instead of nursing appropriately). but he also makes us laugh so hard. and every evening, as i put him to bed during/after his feeding, i have to stop myself from crying from pure love as i gaze at his sleepy, small infant closed eyes and pursed lips. he's perfect. and he's mine. and this is the chapter we're in today, and i'm loving every minute of it.

i'm a mom, now. and it's the best thing ever. (day 31)

Day 31: July 31, 2014

Age: 11 weeks, 4 days

well, it seems my month long writing experiment is coming to its close. here we are, day 31 - and while i've only been blogging for 31 days, this blog coincides with the last few days of my maternity leave. i'll be back with more rantings, ramblings and reflections soon - but this will be it as far as the daily submissions go. it's been fun, thanks for joining me (and holdie). 

what i've learned in the  last 12 weeks:

1) that true love is impossible to capture into words. that parenthood really is the joy that you hear about. the best feeling in the entire world is locking eyes with the most beautiful little person you've ever seen and getting a giant gummy grin in return.

2) the definition of patience. before holden, i was impatient, self-centered, and incredibly anxiety ridden. now i'm just anxiety ridden for different reasons. this little marshmallow boy of mine has taught me the meaning of selflessness and that sometimes, you just gotta slow down. it's not always about you (me), and i'm all the better person now for it. even when my patience is being tested at its utmost peak - screaming and fussing and i'm convinced he hates me, clinging that little bear closer and whispering 'i love you' now, instead of getting frustrated and placing him in baby jail (the crib) is more likely my instinct option. even if the little dude does go to baby jail, i swear, it's only outta love.

3) breastfeeding was the right thing - for me. before i had holden, many women would ask me if i intended on breastfeeding my son. how the hell could i answer that? i had no idea what it would entail, and even though i knew about all of the obvious advantages/benefits (better immune system, bonding experience, cheaper than formula, convenience, etc.), i had no idea if my body would react the way it was supposed to. or if it would hurt like hell. or if the kid would even like my milk. so i would just shrug and reply that i'd give it a shot and see what happens. here i am, nearly 3 months later, and i'm nervous that my job will prevent me from being able to continue breastfeeding my son. nervous, sure, but i'm not going to let it control me. i love my baby boy with all my heart. he was born 2 weeks early, on the smaller side, and nothing makes me swell with motherly pride more than knowing that my nourishment alone, both in my 8.5 month pregnancy and the past 3 months of motherhood, has produced the large, roly poly healthy big ole baby he is today. drinking from my body, which i've taken care of, has solely been his nutrition and subsistence. and i'm proud to say this little dude hasn't gotten sick once, and is if my home scale is to believed, has already reached 14+ pounds. (he was 6 lbs, 9 oz at birth, 6 lbs, 3 oz when we  brought him home from the hospital). i understand 100% why some women opt not to breastfeed. it wasn't easy, at first. and health reasons. and sometimes not all women can handle fatass babies like me who keep demanding MORE MILK. i feel for these women, not because they can't breastfeed, but because so many people pass judgement on them. but then again, i feel like some people pass judgement on me or other breastfeeding moms - asking if i have a 'cover', am i 'one of those moms' who breastfeeds in public, have we started 'supplementing' with formula yet, etc. just let the moms be the moms. they know what's best for their situation and their baby. i'm actually pretty shocked that breastfeeding happened to be the right thing for me. i was convinced my body would throw a wrench in the mix (especially with my double lumpectomy last year), but now my heart hurts if i opt for an extra glass of wine and can't feed my son every feeding directly from the breast. i wasn't sure i'd be able to do it at all. i certainly never expected to love it.

4) everything else is white noise. the crumpled up laundry. the dirty dishes in the sink. the run i probably shouldn't went on but didn't. the ongoing ignored to-do lists. whatever. i love my baby boy. and i'm glad i spent every second held hostage on my living room couch this summer that i did. i wouldn't trade ten minutes of it for a week on the beach. (although, looking through past blog posts, maybe i would have back then). today, though, this dude is seriously the love of my life.  and i'm going to miss our days of 'doing nothing' when i head back to the real world.

5) people really, really love babies. or at least - pictures of babies. before holden, me and my friends would always bitch about babies. or the pregnant women who would post pictures of their stomachs on social media. 'gross!' we'd exclaim. once i found out i was pregnant, i assured everyone i would never be like that. i'd keep it clean and private, not baby spam up everyone's shit. turns out, even i couldn't stop myself. (one thing i kept my word on - noone ever saw my bare stomach when mister h was gestating - with the exception of my husband, my doctors, and two unfortunate random old ladies who happened to be using my work bathroom a few weeks before i popped and i unknowingly exited the bathroom stall with my shirt rolled up. only after i saw their confused looks of horror as they passed by did i realize my human basketball belly was hanging out. that was one of my more dignified moments.) but then, a funny thing happened. after i had H, people started asking to see pictures of him. so i'd post one or two. and they'd get way more 'likes' than any photo i had ever shared in my last 7 years on social media. for privacy purposes, i purged a good hundred or so 'friends' who i didn't recall ever meeting, or hadn't seen/talked to since i worked with him/her 10 years ago. and i locked my instagram on private private. but seriously, for all the shit talkers out there hating on baby pics? i'm beginning to think it all changes as soon as you give a shit about the mom/dad/kid and they're not just a random acquaintance anymore. that, or the baby lovers are much more vocal than the haters. i'll admit that i have a tendency to overdo it. and i'm guessing once i go back to work, the holden paparazzi show will have to slow down, because i'll be spending the bulk of my day making money to provide for my family vs. watching lost and boobing my little man. but i don't give a shit anymore. i've got a cute kid. ima show him off.

i know there's more to the story. more insightful lessons i've probably learned and will later facepalm myself for not including in this excerpt. but really, it was one hell of a ride. my first excerpt a couple months back, relating to the birth/hospital stay was the intro. this post is definitely nothing close to a conclusion. it's just the ending to the very first chapter in several more to come. the maternity leave. the babymoon. it's fucking breaking my heart, but it's coming to its end. as much as i wish i lived in europe or canada or whatever any other country than the us that gives their parents a WHOLE YEAR off, guess what, i don't. i live in the states. chicago. a pretty great city, albeit expensive and not the safest to raise a baby. but it's home (for now). holdie will get many more walks in the city, visits at grandma/grandpa's house, and be surrounded by his biggest fanclub and honorary aunties/uncles. starting monday, our family will begin a new routine. holdie will have daddy days on mondays, grandpa days tuesdays through thursdays, (and half days fridays), and mommy will get remote days on fridays to maximize the time with her baby boy. and get her ass to work. into pencil skirts and high heels. no more pajamas and messed up hair. (hence, why i'm getting it chopped off in 2 days). let's see if i still know how to make myself presentable and continue on adult conversations. use that other part of my brain. it can't be that hard, right? if i can master the first 3 months of caring for a newborn, and raising him into the porker baby he is today, i can tackle anything. 

i'm just going to miss him. oh so much. but we're strong folks. me and h? we got this.

30 down, 1 more to go: a month of mommying holdie bear

Day 30: July 30, 2014
Age: 11 weeks, 3 days

while i have 2 weekdays and a weekend left before my leave comes to a close, tomorrow is the official final day of my month of maternity leave writing experiment. i'll do my best to come up with some clever observations in tomorrow's 'final' post, but i'm sure i'll still be logging on here in the future weeks/months as i continue my journey into motherhood and holds accomplishes bigger and funnier milestones.

today was a very 'hands on' kind of day. i think my heart's starting to break/wrench and i'm more vulnerable than usual, knowing the light is at the end of the tunnel and my honeymoon with h man is coming to a close - or maybe it was just how freaking irresistably sweet/adorable the little dude was today (he had the same effect on his father after he came home from work for daddy duty), but i couldn't put the little porker down. literally. the 2-3 times i did put him down longer than what it took to race to the bathroom or pour myself a glass of water in the kitchen, h would start to fuss and not be having it. normally, i'd roll my eyes, get a little frustrated, let him 'cry it out' for a bit and just turn up the tv volume. but since i know i'm going to be missing these cuddle sessions, and since H never really cried, persay, i let him hang out with his mom all day. because that's what he wanted. and he's not always going to want to hang out with his mom. i get nervous he won't want mommy time when i go back to work. or will be too tired/fussy by the time i do get home to remember/love on me.

so today, i held him. all day. sure, most of it was on the couch. whether he sat reclined on my legs, sprawled out on the boppy pillow on my lap, suctioned onto either one of my always exposed boobs, or bounced on my torso as i continued to binge watch lost on netflix, h man was never out of my reach. maybe with the exception of our walk through the neighborhood, when we strolled through lincoln square, into ravenswood and up through winnemac park. he napped for the majority of our walk in the stroller, was up for maybe a third of it. but other than that, he was my velcro boy up until dad came home and i got my first jog of the week in at the river park.

we just put him to bed after dad rocked him to sleep and i gave him a final nightcap.

that kid - melts my goddang heart, i tell you. he really, truly does. i'm so going to bawl like a baby - more than holdie after his 2 month shots - when i have to go back downtown.

not fair.

one month of mommyhood: day 29

Day 29: July 29, 2014
Age: 11 weeks, 2 days

today was a very adventurous day! holdie took his very first venture with chicago public transportation on the brown line, mom and dad had 2 ginormous coffees in the morning, we visited dad's work, grandma's work (where h is pretty much more famous than ryan gosling with the ladies), went to the zoo, the lincoln park nature board walk, five guys (the most important destination), and home again - with no meltdowns! pretty incredible, if i say so myself. sure, h slept all of our zoo trip with the exception of being rousted for a cheesy photo booth snapshot, but it was a good day and we all had family fun. too bad we're just now getting comfortable enough with our outings now - 5 days before i go back to work. the only day vincent and i both have off together before i suit back up downtown is the day before i go back, sunday. boo.

oh well. h and i will make the most of it. he's sleeping now and i have icecream.

so i'm going to enjoy it and then pour myself a bubble bath to relax as much as i damn well please.

almost done with this monthly baby journal bizness: day 28

Day 28: July 28, 2014
Age: 11 weeks, 1 day

i kept thinking today was a saturday because my husband had off work today and also has tomorrow off and it was our 'weekend.' kinda feels like it, still. i'm not complaining, we had a really good/fun day and have plans for an excellent day again tomorrow, i think i'm just nervous i'll feel slightly jipped that by the time he goes back to work it won't be monday, the first day of my last week off from maternity leave, but instead, it will be wednesday, with only 3 'free days' and a weekend before i resume my 9-5. oh well. i'm just going to appreciate every goddamn second of it.

today we were supposed to take holdie to the lincoln park zoo and take him on the cta for the first time. instead, we opted to make our first reservation with the igo/enterprise car share system and do some more practical things, like go to target and trader joe's. having little to no luck on the apartment hunt front, its looking much more likely that we'll stay put in our humble lil 1 bedroom abode for another year. since it will save us cash, both in rent and in movers/new furniture fees, we decided it was time to do some minor rearranging to make it more comfortable and maximize the space. solution? transform the cat bathroom/bicycle garage/dining room into holdie's room. we didn't move the crib in there yet, as it wouldn't make sense to evict him from our bedroom just yet, but we did make room for it when the time comes. picked up some new curtains/rod which vin set up already, an area room rug with some color, storage containers to make h's changing station 'aka - our former dining room table' more accessible/organized, and cleaned up a lot of random shit. the end result is a roomier, brighter and more realistic nursery than we realized we were likely to get from the majority of the two bedrooms we have stumbled upon in craig's list.

so, despite holdie having a fit at target, in the car, and in the trader joe's parking lot - we managed to get by with mom behind the wheel and dad in the backseat around the city, accomplishing normal errands - together, and without the need to hitch rides from my in-laws. seems pretty small steps to most people, but i'm proud of our little family today. we're finally self sufficient. oh, and the best part of today? HOLDIE FINALLY SHAT. after not crapping for like 3-4 days, h bomb dropped plenty of h bombs. like, 4 or 5 in succession. big ones. so tomorrow we will have a happy, non constipated baby to take on a field trip to the zoo. (i'm just thankful this helped us avoid a really awkward brown line ride - 5 days worth of poop on the train - cuz knowing our luck, that's exactly what would happen).

now that it's 9pm, h is in bed and i'm finally able to relax, i think i'll do just that. this maternity leave has taught me a lot. i'm sure i'll write something more detailed and thoughtful in my final post with lessons learned, etc. but looking back the past 28 days, or hell, last 11 weeks - i went from not knowin

a month of h banana - day 27

Day 27: July 27, 2014
Age: 11 weeks!

other than the fact that my lil marshmallow still can't crap, today was a good day in the world of mister H. sure, he woke his mom up at 7 am with no additional naps, but when the little dude is all smiles and hamminess 5000, it's impossible to get upset with the little dude. we had a flirty mommy/son morning up until 11 or so when the whole root clan (uncle jamie, aunt annie and all three cousins! this is the first time H has met all 5 of his root fam members at the same time since he was born!) met up with us for an afternoon date in the city. we strolled down for a caffeine fix to starbuck's (i'm kinda missing on the perfect cup these days), and then i introduced the fam to taqueria el asedero. i had to explain the concept of real tacos to my family because we're all super white. 'umm, so there's no cheese - or lettuce or tomatoes in these tacos, just onions and cilantro and meat.' 'are they soft shell?' 'ummm, yes. corn tortillas. just trust me - they're good.' i have to give my fam mad credit though for taking my word on the cuisine and trusting my input, because everyone mostly got the tortas and loved 'em. the one niece who was too scared to try anything new without cheese wound up jealous of everyone else's lunches. and i heard my bro in the other room when i snuck away for holdie's feeding - 'we fed 6 people awesome food for 36 bucks!' yup, we sure did.

holdie apparently has a new favorite cousin - he not only hung out with ellie for a half hour, but hung out with her fuss free the entire time! magic touch, i'd guess. she was bouncing him around, whispering stories to him, 'hoarding him,' as my other niece called it, in the other room. 'she's standing with him between her and the wall!' whatever, kid. as long as he's not crying. i'm just surprised/happy that she was able to maneuver the potato sack as well as she could, given he's half her height. (literally).

after the root gang departed back to the burbs, mom and holds got an episode or two of lost snuck in, with the longest breastfeeding session ever. seriously, i'm praying this kid is going through his 3 month growth spurt, because if he's not, and the amount he's been chowing down is a permanent thing, mom's gonna go outta the milkin' business soon. in fact, after vin got home from work, his sister came over to babysit while he and i attended a work event at his job for a bbq for a couple hours. in the time span of 3.5 hours, homeboy sucked down 3 bottles - 9 ounces! that's a new record.

now mom and dad are home, relaxing on the couch, while mister H is gaga-ing in the crib to sleep. tomorrow is our last family 'weekend,' as vin has monday and tuesday of this week off, and it's my last week off before i go back to work. after tuesday, we'll only have sunday off together as a family. we're thinking we'll make the most of our time off and take holden to the lincoln park zoo and maybe get some grocery shopping done. figured, i've been holed up in this apartment, scared to take holden anywhere other than the neighborhood parks, now's the time to get out there and pretend to have a summer together. holdie's first cta ride! now there will be pics to go down for the books.

til then, ima do my best to keep my eyes open for another 45 minutes or so before i pass out like the sleep deprived senior citizen i am.

starbuck's vomit, raccoons, and holdie sparkles

Day 26: July 26, 2014
Age: 10 weeks, 6 days

I'm vincent and i just got done screaming the chorus-like "HOLDIE LIKES TO MOVE HIS LEGS.  MAYBE HE'LL POOP NOW, MAYBE HE WON'T" to a 10 & a 1/2 week baby while rotating his legs in a quick and mechanized fashion.  I also took quick song breaks to place my nose near his crotch to sniff & check for bowel movements, the result was strictly eating my sons farts instead of discovering the much desired end to constipation.

I'm tired. Jodi's tired.  I catch myself zoning out, mouth agape, traveling to unknown lands of mundane insomnia.  I just watched Raccoon Nation and Moose Attack! on Netflix, shortly after, Holdie Sparkles fell asleep after a fit of cemented bowel syndrome (CBS).  Parents, I'm not sure how you? we? do it?  I used to sleep 8 hrs, and I'm bitching/whining when Jodi averages less than me.  Screw batting averages, yards per carry, rpg, ppg, it's all about sleep per night (SPN) and ain't no one in this house swingin' for the fences.  I took Holdie on an early morning stroll as Jodi slept and he woke me up at the baby butt crack of dawn gurgling & gaggaing.  Naturally, we went to Starbucks as that was the only coffee institution that I carefully evaluated could fit me, Holdie, and his big mothership.  we had to wait in a long line, but as Holdie has well-mannered mornings, the extent  of our long line waiting resulted in smiles and a mid-sized vomit of milk breakfast.  The barista was one of the ones that talks to you after you order your beverage and she said: "how's the little one?"  I shifted Holdie's spacecraft and she caught a glimpse of the curdled milk oozing monster mouth and drool shirt- "oh wow." she said, yea oh wow.  oh wow, another day of tired eyes, tremendous beauty, size 2 Huggies, progress and daydreams, Jodi will be back soon, pardon my commas.