These are thoughts of a crazy person. In other words, a mother. This is a game we play daily:
WORTH IT or NAH, NOT WORTH IT.
As I notice that ML is happily engaged taking apart a Kleenex, I ask myself if it is worth the $1.99 and the ensuing mess of giving her the entire box to "play" with. It would take her at least 20 minutes to get through it. I could return a couple of phone calls, empty the dishwasher, water my barely-living plants, and peel some vegetables. Verdict: WORTH IT. (I feel a slight ting of guilt at the wastefulness but feel better that my dying plant might live another day.)
In the rearview mirror, I see ML is dozing off just a few blocks away from home. If she even shuts her eyes for 2 minutes, I know she will trick her body into thinking she has had a full nap. And today, I need a break from her crazy toddler shenanigans (e.g., finding a pen and going to town on herself, standing on our glass-top coffee table, throwing my cell phone down the stairs, screeching like a banshee). Back to my dilemma, how do I keep her awake? Should I give her my water bottle that she uses more as a shower head than a drinking device? Yes - the cold water will jolt her awake and could also serve as a mini-bath. Win-win. The car seat will dry out eventually. Verdict: WORTH IT.
Should I pile the kids in the car, subject myself to hear "Let it Go" for a gazillionth time and drive 20 minutes to the gym? Only to get there and spend 15 minutes acclimating the baby to the childcare room, then make a break for it, start my workout and get pulled off the treadmill by my screaming baby.
Verdict: NOT WORTH IT (Instead I will do some planks at home and hope that the extra weight of a toddler on my back while doing them gives me chiseled abs.)
LO wants to "help" fold laundry. I have 4 loads to complete while baby naps or else she will destroy my piles, so time is of the essence. If I let LO help she will be so pleased with herself for being helpful. And she may practice some sort of motor skill (or at the very least, a life skill). Plus, she will definitely be doing laundry someday, she might as well start learning. I can't wait to outsource this chore ASAP. I hate laundry. Verdict: WORTH IT (Even though the clothes will be more crumpled than before they went into the washer.)
To drink or not drink? That is the real question. I can doze off while watching Golden Girls reruns or I can get dressed up and grab cocktails with my girlfriends. Duh. Verdict: WORTH IT always. (Unless you overdo it, in which case you will pay dearly. A hangover with little ones poking your eyes and ears to wake up has to be one of Dante's Inferno circles.)
And just this minute, I am weighing whether it is worth writing these remarkable observations that maybe two people will read. One little monster busies herself with emptying the contents of my junk drawer and the other one is who-knows-where (never a good sign when they are quiet). So, the verdict is still out on this one.
See, motherhood is basically calling shots. Making judgement calls - big and small. Like, which kid should you save first from the pooped bathtub? The assailant or the victim? Day in and day out, we make life-altering decisions such as these. Riveting stuff, people.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Imbalance
When you are a stay-at-home mom, you are mom 24/7. You don't go off to some badass job to boss people around and change the world. Perhaps during these years out of the workforce I have idealized the working thing a tad. Apparently, when I go back to work, I would love to be some powerful diplomat who saves babies and brings order to unstable countries. (If you hear of any openings like that, let me know. I'll email my resume' stat.) But back to my current job. The title pretty much sums it up: you stay home. And you tend to everyday household duties and all those living in the home. I do it and like it and that is that. And the husband is usually blown away by my aptitude for all things domestic (excluding my knack for losing his favorite socks.) So it's not that I don't feel appreciated. It's just that I don't wear other hats. I do not moonlight as a crooner at a Jazz club. I do not teach yoga. I'm not even part of a club (does my AAA membership count?) No Book Club, Winos Club, nada. Shoot - lately I can't even get a workout in. The baby is going through some serious separation anxiety. I was on the treadmill, barely breaking a sweat when the lady came to tell to please come collect my child. She had been crying the entire 10 minutes she was in the gym childcare center. A severe imbalance exists in my life right now, as I assume does for many stay-at-home-moms. And for the most part, I'm at peace with it because I know it is temporary. A major advantage of being on Baby #2 is that I am mega aware at how rapid it all moves along. In the time it takes to grow out my new bangs, ML will be past this stage. She will happily wave bye to me and I will be enjoying a 90 minute Boot Camp (who am I kidding? I'll be lucky to make it through the 30 minute Sit & Fit Senior class. Baby steps, for both ML and me!) The point is that despite all this imbalance, I know I will slowly find more balance. Babies grow and get more independent. And it happens quickly folks.
So I'm not complaining. I love my life and my role right now. It has been a deliberate, thought-out choice. It presents its challenges and its triumphs like any other job. I feel the value in what I do and the best part is that I love it. I love spending most of my time with these two Pumpkin Pies. I love that I can stay in my pajamas on snow days, drink hot chocolate, play games and still feel like I had a productive day (unless you work at Google, where else could you get away with this? ). And the fleeting nature of this stage makes me love it even more. When you are raising young children, you live in awe of time. You cannot believe how days that go by so slowly and routinely can quickly add up to months and then whole years! I know that someday in the not-so-far future, I will be juggling school drop-offs, career, and extracurriculars. I will get to put on other hats. Right now, my mom hat is sitting nicely atop my head and I love my signature look. I know someday soon I will have other hats to hang on the coat rack.
In the meantime, friends help restore some balance. I didn't need to join a club or become a Zumba instructor. It turns out that I just needed a long weekend with my best friend.
This is the kind of friend you can call and spew your rawest feelings to without fear of judgement or reproach. The kind of friend that you don't have to fake anything with. You are you and she is..., well, she - if that makes sense? You have known one another for so long and been through so many stages that your friendship is timeless. Being around her makes you feel 16 again, taking road trips together and navigating new boyfriends, new freedom and new hairdos (for the record: 5 ponytails coming out of 1 head is not stylish.) And although you have trekked many miles since that stage in your lives, somehow when you come back together again, you feel the same. You are the same person but now you take care of little people. You are still that girl with wild dreams and wild hair. And she gets that and sees that girl. She doesn't just see the crazed mom in leggings with avocado and berries smeared on her t-shirt. She doesn't just see you as a mother and wife. She sees you as the whole person that you are. The whole person that is so divided up right now, who often neglects herself for the sake of these little people. And then you begin to see that whole person again too. She appreciates your cooking as much as she appreciates your sense of humor and ability to down a cocktail. She loves the new you and the old you. She loves you. All of you. You share secret dance moves and countless inside jokes. She is that friend who accepts you and you accept her completely. Your differences have been reconciled long ago. You know her weaknesses, she knows yours and you never use them against each other. It's been a hard-earned friendship. It was fought for, year after year, and now it's in cruise control. I am her child's Godmother and now she is my child's Godmother. We got past the drama of the teen years and the insecurities of our 20's. And now our friendship is like magic.
And we had a magical evening out on the town. Just two old friends, drinking cocktails and talking about everything - from motherhood, to aging parents, to our dream of traveling again someday. But she doesn't know that that night, I did travel. I traveled back in time and picked up a little souvenir - a little piece of me that I had forgotten about. And I brought it back with me. Friendships are powerful. They have time-traveling powers and soul-soothing abilities.
Magic, I tell you.
So I'm not complaining. I love my life and my role right now. It has been a deliberate, thought-out choice. It presents its challenges and its triumphs like any other job. I feel the value in what I do and the best part is that I love it. I love spending most of my time with these two Pumpkin Pies. I love that I can stay in my pajamas on snow days, drink hot chocolate, play games and still feel like I had a productive day (unless you work at Google, where else could you get away with this? ). And the fleeting nature of this stage makes me love it even more. When you are raising young children, you live in awe of time. You cannot believe how days that go by so slowly and routinely can quickly add up to months and then whole years! I know that someday in the not-so-far future, I will be juggling school drop-offs, career, and extracurriculars. I will get to put on other hats. Right now, my mom hat is sitting nicely atop my head and I love my signature look. I know someday soon I will have other hats to hang on the coat rack.
In the meantime, friends help restore some balance. I didn't need to join a club or become a Zumba instructor. It turns out that I just needed a long weekend with my best friend.
This is the kind of friend you can call and spew your rawest feelings to without fear of judgement or reproach. The kind of friend that you don't have to fake anything with. You are you and she is..., well, she - if that makes sense? You have known one another for so long and been through so many stages that your friendship is timeless. Being around her makes you feel 16 again, taking road trips together and navigating new boyfriends, new freedom and new hairdos (for the record: 5 ponytails coming out of 1 head is not stylish.) And although you have trekked many miles since that stage in your lives, somehow when you come back together again, you feel the same. You are the same person but now you take care of little people. You are still that girl with wild dreams and wild hair. And she gets that and sees that girl. She doesn't just see the crazed mom in leggings with avocado and berries smeared on her t-shirt. She doesn't just see you as a mother and wife. She sees you as the whole person that you are. The whole person that is so divided up right now, who often neglects herself for the sake of these little people. And then you begin to see that whole person again too. She appreciates your cooking as much as she appreciates your sense of humor and ability to down a cocktail. She loves the new you and the old you. She loves you. All of you. You share secret dance moves and countless inside jokes. She is that friend who accepts you and you accept her completely. Your differences have been reconciled long ago. You know her weaknesses, she knows yours and you never use them against each other. It's been a hard-earned friendship. It was fought for, year after year, and now it's in cruise control. I am her child's Godmother and now she is my child's Godmother. We got past the drama of the teen years and the insecurities of our 20's. And now our friendship is like magic.
And we had a magical evening out on the town. Just two old friends, drinking cocktails and talking about everything - from motherhood, to aging parents, to our dream of traveling again someday. But she doesn't know that that night, I did travel. I traveled back in time and picked up a little souvenir - a little piece of me that I had forgotten about. And I brought it back with me. Friendships are powerful. They have time-traveling powers and soul-soothing abilities.
Magic, I tell you.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Sorry
Dear ML,
I am writing my most sincere apology to you today just days before your first birthday. You have been duped. I told you when you were in my belly that I would pay as much attention to you as I had to
your sister. In short, I promised to be the same kind of mother I was to your older sis LO. But I have not made good on that promise. I am a radically different kind of mother and I hope you forgive me.
You are shafted. No way around it. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But there are advantages to being the second-born:
You get free and constant entertainment that your older sibling provides. You watch LO as she pliés across the floor in her tutu and tiara for hours. You're the best audience member during yet another performance of her "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" routine. You are rarely bored because of her shenanigans. You are especially amused during LO's timeouts and frequent scoldings. You already seem to take some pleasure when big sis gets in trouble. Maybe you still remember the time she smooshed your finger in the door.
You have another watchful eye on you at all times. (Even when you don't want it - but we are talking about the advantages here!) LO has taken several small objects out of your grip that could have proved fatal (actually I'm sure that tiny pebble would have passed right through you, you are a champ at digestion.) She lets me know when you are going near the toilet (your favorite object in the house), nearing the stairs (your favorite pastime), or when you have your foot inside the fireplace. Overall, she is an asset in keeping you safe.
You have a bath buddy. I'm not sure why I find this one so exciting but I do. You two in the bath are the cutest. I give you matching funny hairdos and we all laugh. You try to drink the water and LO tells you no. You get mad and splash water at her. We laugh some more. You try to escape the tub and we wrangle you back in. It's a fun time for all. What if you were in there solo? Not nearly as much fun.
You have indulged in a lot more foods than sister ever did at this age. And by foods, I mean treats. You have eaten cookies, chips, chicken nuggets (gasp!) and pretty much anything else sister eats. I just feel bad that somebody else is eating this stuff in front of you. So I give you nibbles. The other day, sister gave you some of her marshmallows. Did sis ever get to eat marshmallows at 11 months? No way. Score for you!
You have a more relaxed mama. I don't go around wiping everything down for you. I don't freak when you eat a crusty Cheerio off the floor. I know what to do when you are sick. I know what do when you are constipated (Yep - I got right-up-in-there and helped. Gross, I know. But didn't you feel better?) These are all things I have learned from mothering your sister. She was the guinea pig. You get to reap the benefits of a more experienced mother.
So what do you think? It's not so bad, right? There are advantages and disadvantages to being the second. That is life, actually. Good and bad aspects can be applied to most scenarios. And what I said earlier is true. You are our wise little "Milli" as we've nicknamed you. You are a keen observer most of the time but your voice is heard. You are strong and sure of yourself. You ask for what you need. So I am sure your wisdom will guide you in seeing the great aspects of being the second. And that wisdom will most surely lead you to know the absolute truth. The clear, undisputed truth that you are loved and treasured in the same way your older sister is. The truth in knowing you occupy an equally important spot in our family. And in our hearts.
I love you,
Your Mama
I am writing my most sincere apology to you today just days before your first birthday. You have been duped. I told you when you were in my belly that I would pay as much attention to you as I had to
your sister. In short, I promised to be the same kind of mother I was to your older sis LO. But I have not made good on that promise. I am a radically different kind of mother and I hope you forgive me.
There is no use trying to hide it so I am coming clean early in the game. You will see the pictures from your sister's first birthday and be upset. Yes, we went all out. Yes, that was a hand-painted Halloween backdrop your dad made for guests to take pictures in front of. Yes, we were all dressed up in costumes. And yes, what you know as your "non-crafty" mom did make those cat-shaped carved pumpkin decorations. Please do not be jealous. LO was teething and cranky throughout most of the party. She did not enjoy herself that much.
Yes, that blinged-out baby book that documents LO's first everythings looks amazing. Where is yours, you ask? I'm working on it. I promise that I have input your important milestones into my Iphone calendar. I will soon fill in your baby book all at once. How practical! Do I get points for that time-saving trick? Didn't think so. But what if I use that extra time to stand behind you as you scale the stairs for the 189th time today and give you endless tangerines??
Yes, we have so many videos of your sis that make "Gone With The Wind" look like a teaser. P practically had the camcorder attached to his eye. And the camera - we have enough pictures of LO to tape around the entire Earth. We have less of you. But they are gems. You are a natural. And that's not fluff. You have this serious look on your face in most that really capture your wisdom (or that may just be anger at being the second-born, never thought about that before!). But, really, your hair stood straight up the first 6 months of your life and the pictures are a hoot. Just see the pictures for yourself. You're a doll! (As for videos, don't you think pictures are a more timeless art form?)
You are shafted. No way around it. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But there are advantages to being the second-born:
You get free and constant entertainment that your older sibling provides. You watch LO as she pliés across the floor in her tutu and tiara for hours. You're the best audience member during yet another performance of her "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" routine. You are rarely bored because of her shenanigans. You are especially amused during LO's timeouts and frequent scoldings. You already seem to take some pleasure when big sis gets in trouble. Maybe you still remember the time she smooshed your finger in the door.
You have another watchful eye on you at all times. (Even when you don't want it - but we are talking about the advantages here!) LO has taken several small objects out of your grip that could have proved fatal (actually I'm sure that tiny pebble would have passed right through you, you are a champ at digestion.) She lets me know when you are going near the toilet (your favorite object in the house), nearing the stairs (your favorite pastime), or when you have your foot inside the fireplace. Overall, she is an asset in keeping you safe.
You have a bath buddy. I'm not sure why I find this one so exciting but I do. You two in the bath are the cutest. I give you matching funny hairdos and we all laugh. You try to drink the water and LO tells you no. You get mad and splash water at her. We laugh some more. You try to escape the tub and we wrangle you back in. It's a fun time for all. What if you were in there solo? Not nearly as much fun.
You have indulged in a lot more foods than sister ever did at this age. And by foods, I mean treats. You have eaten cookies, chips, chicken nuggets (gasp!) and pretty much anything else sister eats. I just feel bad that somebody else is eating this stuff in front of you. So I give you nibbles. The other day, sister gave you some of her marshmallows. Did sis ever get to eat marshmallows at 11 months? No way. Score for you!
You have a more relaxed mama. I don't go around wiping everything down for you. I don't freak when you eat a crusty Cheerio off the floor. I know what to do when you are sick. I know what do when you are constipated (Yep - I got right-up-in-there and helped. Gross, I know. But didn't you feel better?) These are all things I have learned from mothering your sister. She was the guinea pig. You get to reap the benefits of a more experienced mother.
So what do you think? It's not so bad, right? There are advantages and disadvantages to being the second. That is life, actually. Good and bad aspects can be applied to most scenarios. And what I said earlier is true. You are our wise little "Milli" as we've nicknamed you. You are a keen observer most of the time but your voice is heard. You are strong and sure of yourself. You ask for what you need. So I am sure your wisdom will guide you in seeing the great aspects of being the second. And that wisdom will most surely lead you to know the absolute truth. The clear, undisputed truth that you are loved and treasured in the same way your older sister is. The truth in knowing you occupy an equally important spot in our family. And in our hearts.
I love you,
Your Mama
Monday, December 9, 2013
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.)
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.
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.
Friday, May 24, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, April 26, 2013
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?
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?
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)