Everyday Susa

Wanted: tiny, adorable, drunk-acting human with no common sense. Found: my 15 month old. Have you spent time with a 15 month old lately? They're one of the best stages of human. For example, my 15 month old can balance crackers on his head for a really, really long time. Sometimes we just make him walk around with crackers on his head for laughs. He's also freakishly good at ascertaining where I've hidden his shoes and socks and convincing unwitting grandparents to put them on, take them off, put them, take them off--you understand. He's fantastic at understanding things. When he sees a clean diaper coming, he runs in circles squealing and laughing and doesn't stop until he trips on his own feet. If we leave the door open, he will  escape to the outside and run along the sidewalk, only to make an abrupt, desperate dash into traffic. And when I pick him up, he will arch his back at the horror and unfairness of not being allowed to run his chubby self

(from) You can stop objectifying new mothers now. The Duchess of Cambridge is absolutely gorgeous--she's already proven that a few times. And yes, she looked unnervingly stunning eight hours after delivering eight pounds of princess. (I'm guessing she was also in a good deal of pain, and I admire her sense of duty. I wish her all the sleep and rest a new mother can find.) But can we stop ogling brand new mothers? Can we stop demanding celebrities and ordinary women alike reveal their perfect post baby bodies in five minutes? Can we stop demanding it at all? Some women's bodies go back to the same lines, proportions, and shape they were before they conceived, grew, and carried a child. Some women's bodies grow new lines, change proportions, and shift shape due to their journey. A woman's body isn't done with motherhood once she delivers her child, though.  Some women breastfeed. Their bodies taking on a whole new course of sustaining life, whil

I don't know when the mommy light clicked on for me. The minute I truly realized that I was someone's mom. In fact, some days that light is so dim I barely notice it. There are days when Lando is happy and there are plenty of people to entertain him, where my maternal duties are just the ordinary ones that I forget to notice. There are also harder days, days where every hour is another reminder of the exhausting responsibility I carry. When they put my burrito of a newborn on my chest, I was terrified. Petrified. If I had been able to run, I just might have. If there had been a put baby back inside for a day button I might have selected it. There was no such button and I couldn't run (downside of a C section), so I went through the motions. And I kept on going through the motions. Feed baby. Change baby. Feed, feed, feed, feed baby.  Let baby sleep on me as I did homework. More feeding, more sleeping, another change. I had the motions down, and the motions were easy.

"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start!" Am I the only one who is singing that with Julie Andrews' sweet voice in my head? Probably. But the beginning. the beginning of Lando, the man cub.  Well, not the very beginning. Obviously, he was made and then I, the brave tribute, gestated him for nine months whilst making lattes and writing papers. Oh my maternal heroics.  Look! Belly! Baby!  Lando emerged into the brightly lit world...not by the original delivery path. My firstborne babe arrived via C section. He was the healthiest C section baby there ever was. An APGAR that *just* missed being 10, a vibrant cry, a strong, intense latch--a dream first baby.  A professional collage for your enjoyment. My dreamy baby was a C section, that procedure that women fear and pray they'll avoid. There are some who claim that carrying a baby in your body for nine (or less) months, then having your organs cut and (even removed