After I penned my last entry, that day I received a call from the March of Dimes in Portland. They offered me a job and five anxiety-filled days later they specified the start date: Grandma Shirley’s 80th birthday or more commonly known as the 1st of October.
Making moving arrangements is undoubtedly stressful, but even more so with baby. For instance, Matt and I are now trying to decide on whether he should drive our Hyundai, with a trailer attached, across country alone and I should fly out with Jude and meet him in Portland or whether we should go together or whether we should ask a family member to fly out with Jude or whether we can juggle coconuts and turtles while flipping pancakes and weaving on a loom. Yes, it’s gotten that chaotic.
Luckily, Jude’s cuteness provides the ideal comic relief for an otherwise nerve-racking time in our lives. Although he still crawls like a wounded war veteran- one leg does all the pushing while the other stays rigidly straight- his speed is only increasing. One moment he’s in the family room, happily gnawing on blocks, pausing only to scowl, and the next he’s grinning, cooing and hunting me down along the carpeted hallway toward the kitchen.
Now, along with his signature “wa-wa-wa-wa” sound, Jude also belts out, “Da-da-da-da” alone with other strings of vowel tones.
My favorite progression is his love for playing “Peek-a-boo”. I sat in the backseat with Jude as Matt drove a few days ago. Grasping the padded side cover of the car seat, Jude placed it over his face, only to reveal himself seconds later, giggling away, his three teeth exposed like little ice caps amid red gums.
It’s also ironic how babies will be presented with an assortment of play-things: from rattles, to reflector-mirror devices, to teddy bears, noisy toys and books and yet they’re always interested in the most inane of the items. In Jude’s case, he most enjoys a purple cup with a green octopus sticker on the side. He alternates between clenching his fists and stretching his fingers like little stars before flicking the cup on its side and watching as it totters and rolls about. Leg motor propelling against the carpet, Jude lurches toward the cup, chest on ground, head erect like a seal. Upon reaching the now sedentary cup, he repeats the process all over again.
The only problem with all of his crawling, aside from newfound vigilance about not leaving liver medications on the floor, is that he hasn’t figured out how to back up. When the cup rolls under the couch, Jude delves right under as well, except that, moments later upon realizing he can’t get out, a frustrated shriek ensues. While he’s mastered first gear, he still can’t quite grasp the concept of reverse.
With all this moving about, it’s no wonder Jude rebels against having his diaper changed. No matter how stinky, wet or downright nasty the contents of the diaper may be, he wrestles and contorts his body like Houdini when I’m trying to dispose of the old one and replace it with a new one. His agility and flexibility never cease to amaze as he’ll squirm despite me pinning down his limbs, his back arched, privates thrust into the air. For this reason, it’s not much of a surprise that I’ve been urinated on more than a handful of times.
Sometimes I’ll be spooning cereal into his mouth and he’ll catch my eye. Still holding my stare, he’ll rest his head to the side, the same way dogs cock their heads when they’re attempting to decipher a command. Jude will sigh as though saying, “Yep, this cereal is pretty bland, Ma,” before resuming the consumption of his meal. He’s a character like that.
I’m still reeling over how quickly the move is unfolding. One minute I’m researching about Portland, then we visit and now it’s going to be home. In the past when I’ve moved somewhere, I find myself greatly relieved once I’ve arrived, mainly because of how stressed-out I feel attempting to squeeze in good-byes with family and friends. Somehow the pressure is still there, but on top of caring for Jude it doesn’t seem quite as monstrous. We’ll see how it goes in a few more days.
Less than a month until I start a job after a year of not working….although that’s not entirely true. I have been working- although definitely pro bono. Personally, I think that motherhood makes for the best qualifications for any and every job. Learning to multi-task, think ahead, always on one’s toes, responsibility for something other than yourself, editing of one’s language, ability to perform under pressure and on little sleep, commitment, working even on weekends, etc. make one highly qualified for any position.
I think I’m qualified.