All

Since I was last here,  LO turned 4 years old and ML is almost 11 months.  ML has been out of the womb longer than she was in it. It really is not a long time. I have canned goods that have been around longer (those anchovies that I swore I would use to add "umami" to my dishes are dusty in the dark corner of the pantry).  Yet I cannot even begin to imagine our family, our life, our hearts without her.  There was surely a gaping hole in our hearts before she filled it with her sweet smile and slobbery kisses.

LO has been out of the womb for as long as it takes to earn a college degree.  Although these past four years have been much more challenging and rigorous than any college course I took (my film degree wasn't exactly astrophysics).  I really didn't know what the hell I was going to do with my life after college. I certainly didn't feel prepared for any particular job. I just knew I would wing it. And that's exactly what I did. I figured it out. My first PA job I learned to write EVERYTHING down. From the Starbucks order to the cryptic message from Jon Voight to the director I was working for (for the record - that guy IS a weirdo!) I worked hard and I moved up. And then I gave it up to mother these two Sweettarts.

So here I am. Motherhood is quite different from school or a job.  Yes, I wing it.  And I most definitely work hard. But as a mom, you never move up (you only move up in age). You don't really know how you're doing. You don't have a yearly review. You are your own judge.  And we all know that is the harshest judge of all.  See, in essence, all that I dedicate myself to right now is being a good mother.  Of course I have other interests and responsibilities too, but first and foremost, I strive to rock at this. So when I don't, it can really weigh on me. And here's the thing, I screw up. A lot. Like everyday. It's just the way it goes.  I yell a little too much, have too little patience and take it all too seriously sometimes. I was always a bit of an over-achiever. Nothing like a genius or anything but, you know, pretty good at the things I put time into (or as my brothers used to call me, a "nerd-herd"). Yet there are days over here in Mamaland when I feel I have achieved ZILCH. All I did was survive and kept my kids alive. Days when I'm certainly not a nerd-herd parent.

Yet the small triumphs should not be overlooked.  In fact, they should be heralded. Because that is most often all that you will receive in validation that you are not completely sucking at this. When your kid comes up to you and kisses your leg just because.  When she shares her favorite toy with her baby sister.  When you see the anger fumes coming out of her head and she calms down (i.e.  doesn't throw a fit, fling something or yell) all on her own.  When she tells you: "Mami, I love you even when you put me in time-out." When she brings her Dad an ice pack when she overhears that his back hurts.  When she says things like: "Does God see EVERYTHING?? Even when I pick my nose??" These are all signs that you are indeed raising kind, considerate and humorous kids. Hey, when your social circle is made up of tots under 4 whose idea of a good time is playing "Trick or treat" again, you appreciate their sense of humor.  (In case you're dying to know - the gist of the game is you go up to her bedroom door and say "trick-or-treat" and she opens the door and compliments your pretend costume.  Repeat. 38 times.)

I guess I'm hard on myself and hard on my children (or child, rather; the baby got away with murder, almost literally, she practically killed me with her terrible snacking habit at night. I was a zombie for the last 10 months. Who said Baby #2 is easier?). But I am hard on us because I expect a lot from myself, from them, from our family. Because I know it's a privilege to be their mother. It's a privilege for us to have one another. I want to be the best I can be (my over-achieving habits die hard). Everyday I want to give it my all. I want to laugh loud, hug hard, teach wisely, guide gently and observe keenly.

But guess what? It's hard to do all these things all the time.  And I fail and fall short and squeak by. Yet as hard it is to measure up to my expectations, it is always easy to do the most important thing of all: love them.  This has come naturally. Loving them is easy and I'll always have that.  Even when I fail at everything else.  I have that.  Love. Always. Everyday. Every second.

It's hard to believe that I've been at this gig for four years. To say that parenting has been a challenge would be an understatement. But to say that I enjoy it would be an even greater understatement. I LOVE it. All of it.

Wisdom

I apologize in advance if this post seems scatterbrained because its author is indeed scatterbrained at the moment. There is so much happening over here. First, we are buying a house! After 6 months of a harrowing house hunt (why did I think that the process was going to be as delightful as watching an episode of House Hunters??), we are the almost-owners of a cute 2-story with a deck and swing that LO very much approves of. We couldn't be happier, more nervous or relieved at the same time. It's not quite a fixer-upper but it does need a lot of loving!  You know who else needs a lot of loving??  LO and ML...so how everybody will get their fair share is beyond me. But they will. One baseboard and princess tea party at a time.

We've also been busy with visitors this month. I love having visitors. So much so that I feel sad when they leave. When you're a stay-at-home mom, it is especially nice to have adult company during the day. Although LO's vocab can be quite extensive for a 3-year-old (e.g: "Are you so proud of me for being considerate?"), one enjoys having a conversation without having to explain every metaphor or saying. The other day I said jokingly, "Just go fly a kite" to which LO answered quizzically "But I don't have a kite Mama!" This turned into a long explanation that you just wouldn't have to get into with the average adult. Kids are so literal. Anyhow, I just love company so keep it coming, people!  Even if I'm dead tired for a week because I try to keep up with my non-child-raising peeps. I just can't party like a rock star anymore. But I give myself props for trying.

Not only has the partying left me dead tired but Baby ML has contributed too! She is growing crazy fast. She had her 4-month appointment and dreaded shots. Poor baby. It just never gets easier for mama to watch her babies get pricked. She was out of sorts for a few days which then segued into the tortuous 4 month sleep regression. If you have kids and you haven't heard of it, then count yourself lucky. We couldn't figure out why ML went from nursing 3-4 times a night to waking every hour screaming inconsolably. And then calming down to nurse and doing it again the next hour. TORTURE. For everybody except LO who wakes every morning chipper as can be. Three days into this regression and she's learned a new word...EXHAUSTED.

"Mami, are you ESS-hausted again?" LO asks as she jumps into bed with us.

"Why yes, my love muffin, mami and sister (ML's sweaty cheek is pressed against my bosom) are both exhausted. Now go ahead and watch another "Cat in the Hat."

"But why can I watch 2 shows mami? I never get 2 shows."

Geez kid, just take your good fortune and hush it!  **Please notice the absence of quotations - I didn't actually speak those words but I might have if I hadn't dozed off already. Just kidding.

So this is a slice out of our lives for the last few days. Super fun, right?? P has to actually go and see other human beings and function in the world. I only have to do a quick drop-off and pick-up at LO's school and there is no judgement there. I can spot others who are in the trenches too. We're the ones in workout gear with ZERO intentions of exercising. We're lucky we got out of bed and dressed.

But dammit, as hard as it is and sleep-deprived as I am, I know how LUCKY I am. I have healthy beautiful babies, a kick-ass partner, a great support system made up of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. We have a roof over our heads (soon our very own roof!) and food in our tummies (even if I forgot to defrost the chicken and I shared a bag of goldfish with LO instead). A weird thing happens when I see tragedies like the tornado in Oklahoma or the Boston bombings; I feel more love. I feel more gratitude. I feel more present. I feel more aware of my mortality. This awareness does not fill me with fear or anger. Instead, it makes me stop worrying about my endless to-do list while I watch LO's Sugarplum fairy dance. I fully enjoy watching her twirl around with her puffy tutu on over her Hello Kitty pajamas. Her smile as genuine and real as this moment is to her. The past and future are insignificant in comparison to the NOW. In this very ordinary moment,  she's as happy as she's ever been. Children can teach us a lot about living in the moment. Because that is how they live. Untarnished by to-do lists and stressful lives, they seek happiness at each and every opportunity. Oftentimes, it takes a tragedy to make adults stop and smell the roses but children live this way daily.

Then I realize that LO is actually teaching ME the big important lessons in life. I only teach her the silly stuff like to keep peas out of her nose and to not over-share (recently, she announced to her entire class during circle time that she "had a little bit of diarrhea last night"!!!).

Enjoy your long weekend and don't forget to let your kids teach you a thing or two. They're wise little creatures.

It's been a hard day's night

There are hard moments, hard days and then there are hard weeks. Lucky for me, this is usually where it ends. I can't remember having ENTIRE hard months or years. Yet a hard week can feel eternal. I feel like I've aged 2 years, at the very least, this past week.

Lack of sleep is the culprit. Public Enemy Numero Uno in our house. From this stems all other evils - grumpiness, lack of patience, achy body, headache, messy house, subpar meal planning (the other day I had 2 girl scout cookies, chips and salsa, and a cheese stick for lunch - simultaneously), overgrown eyebrows...etc, etc. Why the sudden slumber-shattering epidemic, you ask? The MILK MONSTER (as LO has lovingly named her baby sis). How dare this baby come into our life and turn things upside down??? Three months later. How cruel.

We thought we hit the mother of all jackpots when ML was born. She slept a few hours at a time, had zero problems latching on and displayed a pleasant demeanor. She seemed content to be out of the womb and happy to be part of our little family. ML went with the flow and our attention seemed to be more on LO and her constant shenanigans. I often thought: "This is easy breezy. Sign me up for another." In contrast, I thought seriously about getting my tubes tied after LO's birth.

"SUPER MAMA," as LO calls me from time-to-time (more out of her fascination with superheroes and less to do with my awesomeness), began to feel like an accurate nickname for me. I was really handling it all - with ease and grace. Ok, let's not go that far. But I was managing to take daily showers, cook dinners and tweeze my eyebrows (this eyebrow situation is really bothering me). I only occasionally shoplifted gallons of milk and forgot to pay LO's ballet classes once. Not too shabby for this new mom of two!

But I got overconfident. I underestimated my little sweet peanut. It turns out that she has a personality. She has needs and has tricks up her sleeves. Tricks like suckering me into nursing her every 1.5 hours at night. Tricks like screaming when her head touches anything other than flesh. Which means now she needs to be held the greater part of the day. Tricks like ALWAYS getting fussy right at dinnertime so that P holds her football style all through the meal. Tricks like pushing the pacifier out of her mouth and making a sour face as if it tastes like rotten eggs. Tricks like practicing her verbal skills at 4 in the morning. Cooing and babbling is not so adorable in the wee hours of the night. Actually, she is still rather delectably sweet. P and I find ourselves admiring her cuteness through moonlight and bleary eyes. And then we realize we are crazy to waste precious sleep minutes staring at this creature that will awaken again within the hour.

And now I have to run, my friends, because the Milk Monster has figured out that she has been duped. I managed to trick her for 25 minutes into thinking that the rocking motion was coming from the rocking chair and my arms and not the mechanical swing. She did not like that very much.

See, mama has some tricks up her sleeves too. Yet I'm clearly still losing this game.

Can I just forfeit and ask for a rematch after I've slept for 3 days straight?

You know you got 2+ kids when...

You're able to nurse and cook at the same time while singing "Skidamarink" with your other kid.

You can one-handedly dismantle the stroller while holding your other kid's hoodie so that she doesn't dart into the parking lot.

The sound of the baby crying doesn't illicit you to immediately STOP what you're doing and dash to pick her up. You take a beat....or a few sometimes. (Especially when you're in the middle of a delightful task such as wiping your other child's butt.)

You can give your baby a bath while helping your other child bathe her baby doll.

You can talk on the phone (on speaker), hold the baby, and play a game of catch.

You can be rocking the baby to sleep and reading "Green Eggs and Ham" to the other child who has a ridiculously oversized tutu on that practically swallows up the baby.

You let your preschooler drive the shopping cart while you try to remember what you came to the store for. She then crashes into a display of greeting cards and knocks it over. But the baby goes unharmed...close one!

You accidentally shoplift a gallon of milk which you put on the bottom of the cart and forgot about. Sprouts, I owe you $3.89.

You can fall asleep anytime, anywhere. Including the bathroom...not that that has EVER happened to me.

You don't change the diaper at the first sign of pee. You wait until she goes #2.

You and baby both eat while reading a magazine or checking Facebook.

You can successfully change a diaper without taking the baby's socks off. I used to always take LO's socks off because she'd inevitably squash her heels into the poop. I OWN this diapering business now. I can even do it in the dark. Which is the only action happening in the dark, ya know??! But that's another story...

You let your newborn watch TV. I never even had the TV on when LO was a baby. ML is a huge fan of Downton Abbey. We both shed tears when Crawley died in that car accident.

You do one load of laundry everyday. Minimum.

You don't boil the pacifiers daily. Or ever.

Your idea of alone time is that rare, long, luxurious 8 minute shower. You might even exfoliate!

Most of your sentences begin with : "CAREFUL"...
                 "Don't tip sister's car seat over."
                 "Get that stick out of sister's ear."
                 "You can't swing with sister on her baby swing."
                 "No, sister can't eat goldfish."
                 "We don't throw balls near sister."

It's a true miracle ML has survived these 6 weeks. And not only is she surviving, she's thriving! She's putting on weight like a champ and does all that is expected of her. Eat, pee poop, sleep, cry. Repeat.

And despite LO's constant shenanigans, she's such a proud and sweet big sister. She has adjusted beautifully and is, for the most part, a great little helper.

I suppose we're all thriving!  As long as I don't shoplift again and end up in the slammer.











         

Third Time's a Charm

I'm in love. For the third time. My first love was P. I was eighteen and had no idea what I was in for. I remember feeling scared, not of commitment, but of feeling something so strong for somebody that I hadn't known for very long. After all, every person I had really LOVED in life so far had known me my entire life, i.e. parents, brothers, grandparents. But this was a "new" person finding a way into my heart and taking up permanent residence in it.

The next love was LO. And what a love affair that has been. Rapid, intense, limitless. The kind of love worth dying, killing, stealing for. A mother's love for her child is so natural that it almost feels like it was always in you, just waiting for the little creature to emerge. Then the child appears and "BOOM," you've been hit. Hit with a love potion so powerful that you only have eyes and ears for your spawn. And you are never the same.  You look the same to the world, but you just know you're different. You are no longer worried about your own well being first. No matter the actual physical distance from your child, you are never far way. Your mind stays close. For example, you're at the movies on a rare date night: count the times you think of your kid, involuntarily of course. I enjoy a night out as much as the next mom but it will scare you silly to actually count the times you think of your nugget. I counted 7 times last time. Wow. And P and I practically ran out the door in excitement of our date night.

I read an article by a new mom who wished to tell the world that motherhood (or parenthood) is not that hard. She didn't understand how people herald parenting as the most rewarding and most difficult job. She made comparisons to a brain surgeon. Her point being that cleaning up spit-up and changing diapers were nothing like performing brain surgery.  She said we (society) need to stop saying motherhood is so difficult. Apparently, she must have an easy infant.  I want her to deal with a colicky baby and she will see that soothing a howling baby will seem as grand as rocket science! But I do agree with her on one thing. The actual caregiving duties are not what make motherhood difficult. Of course, in my experience, it's not a walk in the park either. But there are more rigorous, laborious, and mind-challenging occupations out there. I'll give the author that. What is missing from her argument is the "human element."I think most parents would say that, no matter the age of their children, they're constantly concerned with their well being. They basically care about another person more than they do themselves. You pray for their good health, for their happiness, for everything beautiful in the world for them, but you really can't control any of it. And that is the difficult part. Not the diapering or nursing. Oh and it's a life-long job. No early retirement here.

And now for my third love. Little ML. It's been 2 weeks and I don't know how I lived without her before. I heard my OB say "Open your eyes Jennifer,  look at your daughter." My eyes were squeezed shut, possibly trying to shut out the 10 random people (nurses, techs, pediatricians, janitors probably) looking at my nether region, She arrived at 10:41 am and by 10:42 am, I knew... it was LOVE. She was mine. Forever. And just like that, I have two little people occupying the world whom I will never stop loving, caring and dreaming for, and worrying about. And that for me is the most rewarding and most difficult job I will ever have.

The End and Beginning.

I have less than a week of pregnancy left. Wow! This second pregnancy has blasted by. We will be meeting our baby girl any day now. The excitement, anticipation, nervousness is mounting.  Everyday, I wake and wonder "Is today the day?"

LO waited until the absolute last moment to come of her own recourse. At 10 days past due, I was scheduled for induction only to have LO start the process 2 hours before my appointment. When I woke P to tell him I was in labor, he rolled over and told me to go back to sleep. He thought I was delusional since I desperately wanted a natural childbirth. 7 hours later, she was in my arms, wailing. She came on her own terms. I should have known then what I was in for!

Who knows what this birth story will be like. No two are the same. I am equally mesmerized and freaked out by the whole thing.  As I skim the pages of the childbirth book, I feel reassured that my body will remember what to do. Yet what it has to do is daunting, to say the least. Stuff stretches (no matter how many Kegels you do, you ain't ever the same), fluids secrete, your placenta pops out, and you're constantly aware of the possibility that you may or may not "po po" (as we call it in our spanglish house) while pushing out your precious bundle of joy. Beautiful.

Yet it really is beautiful. You will never appreciate or admire your body as much as you will those moments after giving birth. You just gave life to another human being. Nothing is grander. It may seem ordinary because we all made the same entrance into this world. But once you've been on the pushing end of it, you realize how huge it is (as is that HEAD!) Because I'm suffering from a major case of Prego Brain, I can only resort to the cliché: it is a miracle.

My plan for the remaining days of pregnancy is to enjoy solo time with LO, smile each time I feel a kick from inside (a sensation I may never feel again), SLEEP, watch movies with P, spend time alone because it will NEVER be this easy until the girls are older. Yet I do not wish to speed up that process. It goes fast enough as it is. I hope to use the most valuable wisdom acquired from the first baby (another cliché): This too shall pass. Sleepless nights, sore nipples, explosive diapers, crying bouts quickly turn into 11 hour sleep nights, deflated boobs, potty training and tantrums.

What does not pass? The LOVE and MEMORIES.

Those live on forever.