I am proud to admit that I love the Olympics! I practically burn a hole in my DVR every other year trying to catch every moment of both the winter and summer games. I do enjoy the sports themselves (especially the figure skating!), but I always find the personal stories of the athletes to be the most compelling part. I get emotional watching those dramatic montages they play between competitors that detail the athletes’ rough childhoods or near career-ending injuries. This time around, there have also been quite a few TV spots dedicated to the moms of the athletes. I saw a great one on the mothers of US ice dancers Meryl Davis and Charlie White, and P&G is running this commercial that shows moms continually picking up their future Olympians when they fall.
This all has me thinking about my own little one. Before I had her, I never thought that something like watching a 14-pounder sneeze-rocketing out a giant booger could make me feel legitimately proud (me: “Oh my goodness, you did it!!!”). Given that the Olympics are on right now, I thought I would share some of my daughter’s “Olympic moments,” or my proudest moments as her mom. They are not necessarily medal worthy by International Olympic Committee standards (she’s three months old, for crying out loud) – let’s just say they are moments only a mother could love.
Breastfeeding was and is a roller coaster. At first, baby girl was only latching on one side, and when she did latch, it was So Painful. To make a long story short, we tried every corrective measure I knew, and I eventually ended up exclusively pumping. We continued to try breastfeeding every so often, but she always needed a bottle afterwards. One day when she was a couple weeks old, she inexplicably just GOT IT. I’m sure it was all the practice and her level of maturity (this was maybe a week after my original due date), but it felt to me that she had really worked and persisted through a problem. It was amazing.
When baby girl was two months old, several of my in-laws came to visit us. We dragged the poor thing out with us one day on a long car tour through Fairfield County, and we ended with a somewhat impromptu visit to Shake Shack in Westport. Even at a somewhat off-hour, the place was noisy and packed full of families. In the middle of all that chaos, as I stuffed my face like a pig with burger and milkshake, baby girl just stared up at me with giant eyes, her binky bobbing a mile a minute. She was so heartbreakingly well behaved that I felt guilty.
Baby girl is known for being a little, erm, lazy. Even now at three months, she pretty much faceplants during tummy time and either cries until we pick her up or just goes to sleep. When my in-laws were visiting, it became a big joke, and they called her vaga (lazy). Just after they left, I got photographic evidence that she CAN lift her head turing tummy time. I was really excited at the time, but she still just kind of lies there most of the time. She just isn’t a tummy time type of girl.
And finally, for her grand finale of making-mommy-proud moments: Baby girl has been this close to rolling over for days. I am happy to report that my little girl rolled for the first time yesterday during ladies figure skating. Coincidence? I think not. What finally did it was that she was on her side and craning her neck to get a better view of her favorite throw pillow (yup, favorite throw pillow – she’s unique). I squealed, my husband ran in, and we totally high fived. As far as I’m concerned, Olympic gold attained!