Vivien Smiles at Fart Noises

Primary Colors

What do mommies do while on maternity leave? We get very creative with toys!!!

Yesterday, Mama Heinz Vargic got a little bored and decided to break out the juggling scarves.

A great idea. Vivien was excited.

I live for making her smile. I got lots of smiles and some of the beginnings of laughter.

Hair!!!

There isn't much more to say except 'HAIR'. Vivien was born with a full head of dark brown hair. Fuller then than it is now -- the poor dear has experienced a steady hair loss since birth; yet you can see how much remains!


While her hair continues to fall out, it also continues to grow and for some strange reason it also remains stubborn about sticking straight up. This even after each bath when we put a cloth cap on her head to keep her head warm (not for beauty purposes) and it still sticks straight up.



It has become her identity. On the maternity ward, the nurses exclaimed repeatedly about how 'hairy' she was. She was known as the hairy infant.



Little did they know that our little angel also has hair on her ears and her back :). These places graced with small peach fuzz have slowly also become bald. The poor little monkey.


We are often asked, where does this hair come from. Some people have questioned our genetics. I was born bald. Brano had hair, but apparently not this much... Though it is clearly his color. Some people have questioned my pregnancy behavior. Did I eat a lot of spicy food? Did I have heart burn?

It is a mystery, but isn't it glorious?

Remember -- Note to Self

Everyone keeps saying “the time goes so quickly” and as I put away clothes that Vivien is too big to wear I can feel the fleeting nature of time... The moments that we capture so faithfully in movies and photos are but images that strive to seize something greater.

Thus the letter...

Dear me,

Don’t forget the softness of the skin on the bottom of her feet and how when you stroke that silky smooth skin her toes curl around your fingers.

Don’t forget how she eats and looks up at you; how she finishes and then curls into a ball on your chest, re-adjusting her head periodically; how she used to just lay there, but now she moves her hand in a grasping motion on your shoulder slightly tickling your skin.

Don’t forget how soft her hair feels on the bottom of your chin as you walk with her through the apartment; nor how the hair above the fontanelle moves slightly to her pulse; nor the surprisingly sweet smell of her hair -- especially when not having been washed for a couple of days.

Don’t forget these days as she learns to smile at you, how she smiles each time you say good morning as if she is truly happy to see you and happy to start the day, how the multitude of expressions passover her face and a look of utter joy remains.

Don’t forget those first sounds of cooing.

Don’t forget how much she loves her changing table because of the stick black and white drawings you put there and the singular attention she gets.

Don’t forget how animate her face, how a shadow of crying crosses over like a cloud building building slowly until a scream that rattles the walls emits.

Don’t forget the first time she actually shed tears and how it broke your heart and likewise how the sound of laughter begins and brings such joy.

Don’t forget how writing this has made you cry, because you’ve never loved anything or anyone so very much, so intensely, and automatically as this little person.

Sincerely,

You as Vivien turns 2 months old.

p.s. when you feel crazy and tired and sick of being in the midst of baby land, don’t forget...

My (Baby) Doll

I’ve always been a fan of dolls. Barbies, American Girl Dolls, My Child or Cabbage Patch Kid dolls... any baby doll, adult doll, strange-in-between doll. The magical pull that these dolls all provide is the activity of dressing and undressing them. I now have a new doll and her name is Vivien.

All parents derive joy from providing for their children. There is nothing more beautiful than a mother nursing her offspring or a father doting on his little one with a bottle. We love the idea of wrapping them up and keeping them warm, of great, safe car seats and different gadgets that keep baby clean, secure, and in the presence of stress-free parents. Those things are great... but I think that there is also some of the fun, frivolous and superficial provision that makes most parents (read: mothers) very excited.

Clothes.

Yep. There’s no denying it. Your baby does not care what he or she is wearing. The adult equivalent of sweat pants and a t-shirt -- the white onesy -- would suffice each day. The clothes are all for us adults. In order to inspire oooooo’s and ahhhhhh’s from our friends and even strangers we spend a great deal of time and energy on baby’s outfit.

Or at least I do.

There was a strange sensation when I realized that I was having fun dressing little Vivien. I felt a familiar feeling and could identify it as the same kind of joy coming from my childhood hobby -- dolls. Is that so bad? What’s a new mommy to do? I’m still wearing my maternity clothes, am always covered in spit up and milk, am feeling decidedly fat and unattractive; thus, having little Viv be beautiful makes all the difference in the world.

Vivien doesn't always like it, but she sure does look cute. Our little bug.

This one was a gift from Mimi (as is the first one). Thanks Mimi. Somehow it reminds me of Dorothy.

This is a beautiful sleeper from Judy. So soft and cuddly one can't resist taking a little snooze with the little one. It even comes with a hat!!!

Our disgusting child

Brano and I spend so much time each day gazing at Vivien. I get to be with her more often, so my gazing is sometimes suppressed by feelings of exasperation; but gaze I do.

It is important that such a little being be cute. Because when you really think about it -- babies are disgusting.

Vivien farts. The loud farts of an adult. The other day I was with her at Kika, a housewares store, and she let one rip. I’m not talking some dainty, I-weigh-only-ten-pounds fart; it was a grown-up air biscuit that reverberated through the aisle. I exclaimed, “Vivien!!!”, as though my more polite sensibilities were being offended. Surely, those people around me thought, “look at that woman blaming her daughter for her own gas”.

In addition to farting, Vivien “works” on her bowel movements -- sometimes for what feels like hours. Hours (it isn’t really hours) of excruciating focus and the grunting to go along with it. We can’t see her from our bed as she is hidden by bumpers guarding her little flailing limbs from being caught in the rails. We can’t see her, but we can hear these strange noises. I imagine that during the night an evil fairy has come and replaced our beautiful baby girl with an angry tasmanian devil who is devouring the bedding each night.

She clearly devotes much of her time and energy to these gastrointestinal events. Sometimes it seems that they surprise her and she adds shrieking to her repertoire of noises. We feel sympathy. The grunting is so human. We’ve all been there. We suppress the noise, but we’ve been there and perhaps some of us would have liked to grunt. And as her little baby body grows and gets stronger, we cheer her efforts of expulsion and say “push, Vivi, push!!!”.

Little girls might be made of sugar & spice, but that is when the mute button is on. What PR help little girls would need if the truth got out... farting, grunting, shrieking...

And the result... that strange mustardy-seedy-yellowy goop. The result is surprisingly ungross to me. I derive some kind of strange satisfaction in that mother’s milk gobbly-goo. If Vivien has a job, then it is to grow and develop; this sticky, gelatinous mess is proof that she is doing that physical part of her job. Fair play to you Vivi. Good work.

Then there is the other end, that smart little button of a mouth that coos, awwwwww, ahhhhhh, ooooooooooo, and ohhhhhhhhh. We respond, awwwwww, ahhhhhh, ooooooooooo, and ohhhhhhhhh in this strange banter of infant and adult. There is then burping. Yum. The dry kind, which somehow feels like a small victory and the wet kind, which somehow feels like a defeat. What a waste to see that milk go up instead of down.

Of course, this news has been out for a long while. There’s no debate. Babies are not considered disgusting; they are sweet, adorable, innocent... all those good things. Perhaps this is a lesson to us all that something so sweet, adorable, innocent... all those good things, is also human and carries with her/him those wonderfully disgusting bodily functions that we all have as an adult. It is a reminder that you as a parent are a huge contributing part of the development of a person. A person who will one day be polite and decent and hide all these bodily offenses. In the meantime, I enjoy the juxtaposition of this beautiful baby (see the pics below) and these bodily functions.

(during the writing of this blog -- mostly one-handed -- Vivien has had a nap, several farts resulting in a diaper change, she’s eaten, burped, and spit up)

Mom's Visit

My mother was here for three weeks. When you read that, depending on your relationship with your own parents, you’ll inevitably have a strong reaction. Some people will flinch -- regarding such an instance of prolonged parental attention as torture. Some will smile -- remembering their own mother helpers after birth.

I just look at it as a photo montage, a series of memories that somehow blend into a singular image of my mom holding Vivien and seeing my beautiful baby girl in her arms somehow gave me the feeling that I too was in her arms as I have been my whole life. Not literally of course. Literally we are thousands of miles away, which made these moments all the more precious.

The three weeks flew by and joyful times do. I woke each morning with a feeling of excitement and security, for I knew that I would have the most wonderful morning of all -- a morning spent with my mom, playing with Vivien and talking. It doesn’t matter the beverage, the time of day, or the location (here, the US, on the prairie path or walking around target), all that matters is that I have those moments to have good conversation with my mom.

We then had an activity. An outing with Vivien, a visit with a friend... my mom built up my confidence in taking Vivien out. We didn’t do many touristy things, but we did manage a trip to Vienna on her birthday and a trip to Danubiana, Vivien’s first museum. I can’t imagine a better person than my mom with whom to visit an art museum. Vivien is a very very lucky girl.

I’ve always learned from my mother. In this case it is somehow different in how natural it felt. She was showing me how to do things with Vivien, things that she had done with me that are a part of who I am and my own development -- because these moments with infants do develop who they turn out to be. Perhaps these were things that she learned from her mother, my Granny. It feels so much like the way it is supposed to be.

Her expertise was evident. My mother immediately reached for Viv. Grabbed her and held her close. She pulled her into those soothing, calming arms... and it worked. After a particularly long night, mom woke up to find me in the living room, holding Vivien and trying to get her to fall asleep. I had been trying for several hours and was feeling exhausted. How could one little-month-old baby fight sleep so fiercely? Mom took Vivien into her arms and in a matter of seconds Vivien was out... Magical arms my mother has.

In honor of my mom’s visit. Here are pictures of her and Vivien. Cheers to Mimi, a fantastic grandmother, a superb mother, and my best friend. I am forever indebted to her for the gift of this trip and for the lessons that I will take with me in my life and in my relationship with my own daughter.

Pixs from Vivi's first days

These are some pictures from Vivien's very first days. All of them are taken during visiting hours at the hospital, where all mothers are required to stay 4 nights.

I have to say thank you to my beloved Brano, who brought me an abundance of supplies during those four days -- who knew I could go through 3 big bottles of water in a day? Thank you as well to the people who came to visit (Nora, Rasto, Dadi, and Kamilka; Zuzi; Ada and the girls; and the Vargic clan). Hugs to you all. I needed the company -- and the English for a while!!! Thank you.