One year. Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my return to work after Cora was born.

Happy Birthday.

Dear Cora,

You are one year old today! My, how the time has flown. Was it really a year ago when you were just a tiny peanut, unable to wave or walk or point? Look at you now! You're a regular social butterfly. At the Rockies baseball game you charmed your sectionmates by walking up and down the row of seats, patting random people on the shoulder and waving when they turned around. You did the same thing at a recent neighborhood picnic - we could only keep a distant eye on you, what with all the socializing with other parents and babies you were doing.

You have a great sense of humor. Many times when you're nursing with Mama you'll kick your legs out, peek up to catch an eye and giggle softly, all while still nursing. You and Daddy make funny faces at each other all the time. You play bandana-peek-a-boo like a champ. Plaide can make you belly laugh harder than anyone else we've seen. You're in a stage when you like to share. When you and Daddy play 'Happy Noses' (saline nasal spray), a daily routine, you'll then take the bottle and offer it up to our noses. You offer us bites of your meals and giggle when we munch on your fingers. Remember when you played "pretty baby, pretty mama"? You'd put a headband on mama's head, giggle, then put it on your head, giggle, then put it on mama's head, giggle... Your laugh melts us, every time we hear it.

Eating is an easy task. You eat pretty much whatever we're eating and like to use your fingers or wield the spoon yourself. You'll let us put food on the spoon but once it's presented, you want to put it in your mouth without assistance. We anticipate the phrase "I do it myself" will soon become a mainstay in our household.

You have become a very confident, physically adept little girl. You climb up and down our stairs without a thought, usually with a truck in your hand. Speaking of trucks, you've spent quite a bit of time this month rolling a truck or car around the house, making engine noises with your tongue. It's quite adorable. You've impressed everyone with your strength and agility by climbing in, out, and on top of toy cars, wagons, and trikes. Last weekend while hanging out in our parked car, you swung a leg over your carseat and climbed into the front seat.

Remember when you were all gummy smiles? Well, no more - you now have FOUR teeth! Each tooth gives us sleeping fits for a couple of days while it's wending its way out but we don't mind all that much. We love watching you grow. You had your first stomach bug last week and spent a full night launching impressive quantities of bodily fluids all over mama, daddy and four changes of sheets. We had no idea vomit could travel so far or be so ubiquitous. We postponed our trip to see your grandparents in Michigan, but will have a visit soon. Luckily, the bug has receded and you are on the mend. Throughout it all, your sunny personality more than made up for the sleepless nights and midnight laundry sessions.

You are becoming more opinionated and you're not afraid to let us know your thoughts. Even so, bouts of ill-temper are short-lived and the majority of your existence seems to be conducted with singing, laughing, or contented exploring. You love water and given the opportunity will splash in the dog dish, a shallow pool, a puddle on the sidewalk. How many times have we changed a sopping wet shirt? Too many to count.

Bathtime is still one of your favorite activities. Being outside is, too. You spend lots of time toddling in the front yard and down the steps to the sidewalk, where you'll make your way to the neighbor's house and will rattle the gate, willing their three-year-old to come out and play. Usually, she will.

We think you are an animal lover. You squeal in delight anytime the kitty allows you to touch him, which is becoming more frequent so you must be winning him over. The dog has accepted you as one of the pack and frequently shares her toys with you. You return the favor by dropping handfuls of each meal over the side of your highchair or by performing an all-out-forearm-sweep of the food tray. Plaide has never been so attentive to your actions.

Coralyn Marie - having you as our daughter is the most amazing, fulfilling experience. Throughout this first year of parenthood we've grown so much. We find strength in flexibility. We make positive note of the littlest things. We appreciate what our parents gave. We're learning more about what's really important to us. Sistergirl, we are so grateful for all you teach us and for bringing us together as a family.

Happy Birthday, baby girl. Mama and Daddy love you very, very much.

Letters that will never be read.

***
Dear Andrew,

It was good to see you. When we meet I often feel, compared to me, you are more...I don't know...enlightened or experienced. Maybe I get a teensy weensy intimidated? Hmmm. While talking with you this last time we met after more than a year's hiatus, I took a step back from the action. I talked less and listened more. Somewhere during the time you were speaking I had a sort of epiphany: You don't know what you’re talking about any more than I do. I don’t mean this in any derogatory way. You’re simply another human being who is no more or less than I. We are all wise in different ways. All ways are worthy.

At one point you commented: ‘boy, you just seem so much more...relaxed’. I didn’t get the impression you intended this to be a compliment. But I took it that way. I am becoming the person I was meant to be. And I’m pleased that it shows.

It was good for me to see you. Genuinely good. It didn't seem to be so good for you. I felt that you expected something else. Something more. Maybe more business networking? Political conversation? Entrepreneurial achievement? Useful information? I admit that nurturing high-powered business contacts is not my strong suit. Keeping in touch with friends isn’t always my strong suit either, but I’m more motivated to do so than to cultivate contacts strictly for business needs. I felt that for you, our meeting was strictly for business needs.

I suspect we probably won’t see each other again. That’s OK. Honestly. Our motivations are too different.

You are a good person. I’ve enjoyed knowing you these many years.


***
Dear Jennifer,
It’s been 10 years. I’ve often thought of you. During the milestones in my life, I’ve missed being able to share them with you.

I’m sorry. I was wrong.


***
Dear Momma,

I find I’m thinking about you more now than ever before. Your granddaughter is pure joy. Although you are not here, I feel close to you through mothering my daughter. She has been a bridge. Since her birth, there have been renewed connections with people who were close to you. Through them, I‘m learning more about you. I better understand your struggles. I feel your love and your pain. I am clear on your reluctance to leave. I know it was not your choice and you were worried for your children. I hope you know – I’m OK. I didn’t come through unscathed, but I am healing. It's slow, but steady. I’m able to put to good use some of the gifts you handed down. I have a surprisingly nurturing side. This stuns no one more than me. Thank you for that. I have an incredibly stubborn side. This is no surprise to anyone at all. I have a strong drive for survival and a fierce love for my family. These are all serving me well as I step through the days, learning more about my strength and my capabilities in caring for this new light in my life. Thank you for what you've given me. I'm still discovering it all.

I wish you could meet your granddaughter. I wish we could know each other now, as two adults. As mother and daughter. I want so much to share this experience with you. I want to hear your voice, your insights, your encouragement, your guidance. What would you think of my life? Of me? I hope you’d be proud. I love you.

I'm OFF to see the Wizard... I went to see a local Denver icon recently - Mr. Wizard. He's a wizened old man with a long, fuzzy gray beard and little gold eyeglasses that look like they were hand-hammered out of a single scrap of metal. He wears a flowing blue velvet robe with large star-and-moon embroidered bell sleeves. His business card says:

Tarots - Horoscpes

Relationships - Vocation

Biorhythms - Luck!

My friend, Shawn, highly recommended him. What can I say - I'm a sucker for these things.

I went to see what the cards say about me returning to work. A little background:

Marc has a consulting business, but no benefits and roller coaster income (sometimes we're eating sushi, sometimes it's pinto beans. I have a boring but steady job with dynamite benefits and predictable income. When I left on maternity leave last year, it seemed unlikely that I'd be coming back. I was more than fine with that. But it was not to be. Marc hasn't been able to procure a job with benefits and steady income. The job market in Denver isn't great for the engineering-type work my hubby excels in, so opportunities have been slim. Unless we want to move to Detroit, LA, or the East Coast. Ew. Not particularly.

So, we agreed that I'd go back to work for the short term. I was, admittedly, a bit resentful of this. But, I'm settling down a bit and can see some benefit. Marc seems to be *loving* this time with Cora. Now I'm conflicted. Should I be pushing on the job search? Or should I celebrate this time he has to bond significantly with his daughter? I do see us having more than one child and at that time, I think we both agree it makes more sense for me to be at home. All the moms I've talked to about having one, going back to work and dealing with a second pregnancy have summed it up this way: "Grueling. Avoid at all costs. Miserable." Hmmm...Not a shining endorsement.

So, do I let go of the Stay-At-Home-Mom bone for now? Should I focus on bringing home the bacon and allow Marc to fry it up in the pan? I *do* enjoy seeing the bond he and Cora have formed. What to do? Enter Mr. Wizard.

I arrived early and watched as he set up his table. He laid out some decks of cards, a leather bag, and a woven mat. He straightened the blue velvet tablecloth (that matched his flowing robe), affixed a floppy velvet wizard-y cap to his head, and beckoned me to sit. I shuffled the cards. He shuffled the cards. I cut the cards and we began.

I won't go through all the details of the reading, but let's just say he was uncannily accurate on some of the details of my life. I'll have to peek out my windows at night to ensure he's not out there in his little pointy hat and hand-hammered glasses, peering in.

The two bottom line points he made were this:
1) Your career is great! Big things are coming! (Uh - riiight. I work at a government-like scientific agency? Not exactly a hotbed of excitement these days? Are you sure those are my cards?)

2) Marc is in a resting cycle right now (not sure how much resting he's doing at home with a baby who "Feels the need - the need for speed", but OK) and will ramp it up, career-wise, in the next few years.

Humph.

It appears to be destiny. It's MEANT-TO-BE that I am a working mom to a SAHDad and SAHBaby.

Damn you, Mr. Wizard.

Teef. Cora is definitely teething. I can feel nubbins of sharp little razors sprouting from her bottom gums. Up to this point, she has foregone the teeth in favor of more instantly gratifying activities, such as:
1) Clapping her hands
2) Digging in the potted plants
3) Climbing over smaller barriers designed (poorly) to constrain her
4) Hollering with joy
5) Catching herself before a fall in ever more daring and acrobatic ways
6) Playing Lets-Drop-The-Toy-And-Look-Longingly-At-It (also known as "Fetch, Daddy!")
7) Jumping enthusiastically, whether in her Jumperoo or on our heads, er...laps
8) Belly laughing when we make funny faces
Now, she's apparently decided it's time for teeth. As if having needle sharp fingernails weren't causing enough abuse to mommy's chest and bottom lip. Soon she'll be able to shear off my nipple in one motion.

*sniff* Aww...My baby girl is growing up.

What I'm doing right NOW. I'm sitting here in my office with a boob machine attached to my breast. Because I have a large floor to ceiling window that looks out into the hallway, I have a room divider screen covering them when I pump. I leave the windows that look outside wide open. I'm a floor above street level and if someone outside wants to see my boobs that badly, well have at it. Effort like that should be rewarded. When I'm pumping milk, I put a sign on my door that looks like this:
I even drew the cow myself. I know - I missed my calling as a nature artist, didn't I?

My colleagues have a decent sense of humor about this whole arrangement and frequently do knock...or wave their arms over the divider in front of the window. Or, my favorite - they'll moo loudly as they pass by. If I'm not on the phone, I may moo back.

I've had folks tell me how dedicated I am to still be pumping after 8 months, but I can't imagine doing it any other way. Besides, I really haven't been pumping for 8 months. I've only been doing it since September, when I worked two days a week. (can you say slacker?) Being away from my little girl is tough enough - at least I know she's still getting mama's milk, even tho I'm not there. I don't know - it makes me feel connected with her.

I don't dislike coming into the office. I'd just prefer to be at home. Ideally, with Marc at home as well but I suppose that's impractical, unless someone has a trunk of cash they're wanting to give away. Can you win the lottery if you just *think* about playing?

Might as well face it... I am an addict. I admit it. I am hopelessly, utterly addicted to reading blogs. There are a good many quality blogs out there. I'm seemingly determined to read them all. On one level, it's about appreciating good, quality writing. On another, it's extremely voyeuristic. What's that say about me?
...
Well, it's better than peering into windows.