Colorado

My heart is so heavy. What happened in Aurora is just so incomprehensible. What a nightmare for these parents to know how their kids were killed. This type of events is unfortunately all too frequent in this country -and I'm not blaming the US as France had a similar mass killing (at a primary school!) a few months ago.

I could talk about better access to mental health and stricter gun control, but others have done it better (here for instance). I am praying for the family affected by this massacre. I am praying for peace and healing in the community. And I am praying for parents never to experience this type of loss, anywhere -due to a lone killer or wars.

20 years

As I sit watching a Frontline about AIDS in the US, I pause and think that tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of my father's death. 20 years!

I am not overly sentimental about this date -or this anniversary. I am not emotional about what my baby is missing -because Léo has a wonderful grandfather (make that two as Joe's dad is an amazing Pa as well). Because I never lived with my father and because he died right before I turned 12 I never got to know him, really. I mean, I knew him of course , but I never got to talk to him about his childhood, his dreams, his thoughts. My relationship with him was good but not perfect. I remember dreading seeing him and spending time with him -mainly because he was so busy with work. I remember walking in front of him in the street, almost as if I were ashamed -oh, and I am ashamed now to even admit it, believe me! There's a French song that says "she cries when I'm here and laughs when I go away" and even when he was still alive that made me think me of my father. Of course I remember when he told me he had AIDS and how I was just like "you have what?" because it was 1991 and frankly I didn't know much about that illness -and also because he and my mom had gotten into a fist fight over me and I was a bit shocked about that. I remember bragging to my friends that my dad had AIDS, don't you know, and that I really wanted him to die. And then he did, a year after he told me about it and only 5 years after he was diagnosed and I bit my words and even as I was crying on my mom's shoulders the night she told me he died I scolded myself "well, you wanted him dead and he is dead. Why are you crying?" So mainly I remember what I felt about him, but I don't remember much of him.

(One of the reasons for this rapid health decline was that he had gotten malaria in Ivory Coast during a movie gig and the fever and other symptoms came back every month or so because his body was too weak to fight the infection. I have no idea whether he had anti malarial meds or antiretrovirals)

And I don't know if I miss him. Again, I have a really great dad. My adoption was final a little more than a year after my father died -because my mom was well too aware of her suicidal tendencies and didn't want me to be left an orphan and because he loved me and wanted me to be family. So I have a dad, who cares for me, helped me study, makes me laugh, walked me to the altar, and has been there every step of the way from age 8 on. So no, I don't exactly miss my father -much to my mother's dismay and anger. But I wish he were here right now. I wish I could introduce him to Léo. I wish we could talk about his life and his childhood and what it was like to grow up Algerian in France (you know me, the political mind!), what it was like to be in the movie industry, what it was like to be diagnosed at 30, just... what it was like to be him. I wish I could hold him and tell him I am sorry for not visiting at the hospital, for hating his family so much (because really, they behaved like douches when he passed away), for not going to his funeral (see previous point about his family), and for not being there in the last moments. I would hug him and tell him that I love him and that I tried to follow in his footsteps by studying film at UCLA but really, I was not cut throat enough. I would tell him that I wanted Léo's middle name to be Faouzi but that it wouldn't have been fair to Serge or Jeff. I would tell him that I might sound nutsy but I know he's watching over Léo. And I would tell him to go in peace and that he lives in my heart -and that he has been there, daily, for 20 years.

We're all the result of our parents' lives and choices. I carry all 3 of my parents' lives within me. And whether I really knew him or not, whether I think I was a good daughter or not, whether his family thinks I'm his biological daughter or not, whether I've known him dead twice more than I've known him alive, he's here, in me, DNA, temperament, and history. I am my father's daughter.

That is a picture that was taken in December 1989, a few weeks after my brother's birth. We all celebrated Christmas together and somehow two pictures taken that day collided into one, showing (shoving!) my parents together. Pretty neat, huh?

Sleep training is kicking our butts

And we're back talking about sleep. After a week of terrible nights -he was up 2 or 3 times- we decided that we would start sleep training, for reals this time. We contemplated two methods -one where we stay in the bedroom with him and one where we check on him- and chose the latter, but after we checked on him once we realized it made things worse so... we let him cry. That was tough. it took 45 minutes but then he threw his pillow pet on the mattress, threw himself on the pillow, and fell asleep -just like that! He slept through the night!

Yesterday, things were EASY. He fell asleep after 3 minutes of crying for his first nap and took only 20 minutes for his second. At night, he was asleep after crying for less than 30 seconds.

And then today came, and boy... it was hard. Hhhhhard. We had to forego his first nap because he was still crying after an hour. We rocked him for his second nap (his first, technically) because he just needed to sleep. And tonight he cried for 1h40. That's 100 minutes. Straight. Joe had to leave the apartment and I relied on texting friends who had done that method successfully with their babies -and who thankfully answered right away (have I mentioned I love my friends?).

He's asleep now. Sleep training is a b*tch, lemme say that and excuse my French.

Speaking of which, it was Bastille Day on Saturday. We didn't do much but I craved crepes like crazy!

What are you willing to give up?

Last week my great friend and colleague Jen and I talked about the book written by our organization’s president. It’s a good read so far –quite well written and challenging. One of the main themes of the first few chapters is how he came to leave his job as the CEO of a luxury company (i.e., a gorgeous house, expensive car, really nice lifestyle) to become the president of a non-profit. He challenges his reader: what are you ready to give up to follow God’s calling for your life (in secular term: what are you willing to give up to follow your passion / what you know is right)? He gives the example of the rich man who asks Jesus what he should do to get into Heaven. Jesus says “Love god with all your heart and with all your soul and love your neighbor as yourself.” And then he says “leave your possessions and follow me.” The man left sad, knowing he wasn’t able to leave his possessions behind.

I realize I am like this man. I am not willing to give up my lifestyle to follow Christ. I don’t feel called to be poor or a missionary –so I don’t feel required to leave all my possessions. That being said, I don’t tithe, I don’t donate to charities and I am certainly not willing to give up my almost daily Starbucks. My excuse? Well, I already work for a non-profit, so that’s sacrifice right there. Riiight. That’s BS 101.

I really feel that I should give up more –donate more of my time and money. Ok, maybe more of my money because I feel quite stretched at it is, time-wise. I feel I should at least stop living life on the surface –never stopping to wonder what God wants from me or what I can do to challenge myself to be better to the world and to my neighbor. I need to be willing to leave some possessions. It's not going to be easy since Joe and I don't see this donation-thing the same way. I see it as a bit of a sacrifice and a way to follow God whereas he's more than agnostic and, if he doesn't mind donating money, doesn't want to make it something sacrificial either. We need to find a common ground -something that will challenge us both and meet us where we're at.

Someone heard me!

Léo slept from 830-645 last night.

That was nice!

Nights

Léo has been such a joyous little toddler lately. He’s funny, loves to be chased, stares at people in the street until they look at him and then buries his head in Joe’s or my shoulder, babbles non-stop, smiles and hugs all the time. Daytime is splendid.

Night time is another story. In the past few months, Léo has been better at sleeping through the night a couple to a few times a week –that usually means 8 or 9 hours straight. He sleeps on average 12 hours per day –which is below average but still within an acceptable range. When he was a newborn and until he was about 4 months old –pretty much until we unswaddled him- he slept more than average: 20 hours per day when he was just born to 16 hours at 4 months. Then, as you know, it all changed and we’ve been struggling with night sleep. He still sleeps a lot during the day but nights are tougher. We have better nights than when he was 8 months old and woke up twice a day for up to 2-3 hours at a time during which he needed to be rocked. Now he wakes up once for one to two hours –and still needs to be rocked. Sometimes he lets us rock him on the glider but most nights we stand up and rock him while he sits straight –as if he were in the Ergo.

Last week was terrible because he was sick. Joe and I spent two nights taking turns rocking him for more than three hours. I cried and cried in frustration. Yesterday he refused to go to bed until 10. Now I know he’s only 14 months old so when I say he refused to go to bed I mean he refused to be rocked. I could have put him in his crib and let him cry but I just can't do that.

Long story short, I feel like a failure. I know sleep is important for his body and his mind yet I can’t bring myself to do sleep training. I know I created this routine that keeps him awake at night and I know I need to get rid of it but I feel too guilty to let him cry it out (plus we have neighbors who might not appreciate being woken by a screaming baby at 2AM). Part of me realizes that avoiding CIO is for me as much as it is for him: *I* hate hearing him cry and I’d rather rock him for hours than face his tears. But really, the boy needs sleep. Joe and I need sleep. So I’m going to try to find a solution that is not 100% CIO but that will allow him to constantly sleep through the night. I will talk to his daycare providers and try to enforce two naps a day -we're having a bit of an issue with that right now. I feel we’re back to square 1 (8 months ago when I first started sleep training).

Maybe I can hire a nanny that will stay with Léo while he cries it out and Joe and I go out for a drink or three. I wish…

14 months!

Last month I didn't write anything when Léo turned 13 months old because, well, now that he's over a year old, is there really a use writing a monthly update? But it's been two months and though Léo hasn't changed that much, life with him has changed. You guys, he's such a treat! This week he was sick so I got to spend 3 whole days with him and I loved it. LOVED IT. I also love my job so I won't quit but lemme tell you, it's tempting. I feel so sad having to go back to work tomorrow. So torn. When I went back from maternity leave I felt guilty but now I know what I'm missing. TONS. I'm missing being able to speak to him in French all day long. I'm missing his constant "talking" (everything sounds like daddy, daly, and doggy but with enough variations that you know he's having something like a 12-word vocabulary). I'm missing just hanging out and going out with him -today as a matter of fact we went out between every nap and it was awesome. Uh, it's so hard having to go back to work!

As I said, nothing major has happened. No new words, no new development (no sleeping through the night. Uh). But he's doing more and more of the little things that make him so fun: walking like a robot, walking with little steps, dancing, walking backwards, asking to be chased all. the. time, starting to like reading books (it's now part of our bedtime routine), showing constant love for me (he's definitely in a mommy phase right now) by hugging me and wanting to be in my arms, learning to open doors (which comes in handy for him during bedtime routine when we're reading on the floor, and he suddenly gets up, opens the door of his bedroom, and WALKS OUT). And his smile. Oh, I just can't get enough of his smile and laughter. He's my pride and joy.

Mini-Jedi! (yeah, that's foam pipe insulator)

Not able to choose just one cart! This boy needs the same thing in each hand (usually food!).

Trying to put shoes on.