Tag Archives: parenting

Logistical Nightmare

29 Apr

My oldest daughter will be 5 this fall.  And in the last few months, it’s become more and more obvious that she’s a little girl now and not my baby.  Along with her fashion sense and her ability to manipulate and lie, has come the desire to “hang out with friends.”  What used to be a play-date, arranged so mothers could escape the solitary confinement that is life with a toddler (or two) has morphed into a social life for my preschooler.

Other moms? Are ready at a whim to have neighborhood friends over and after-school visits.  Daily.  Until now, I haven’t felt any pressure to join in.  But I can tell the days of play-dates arranged days or weeks in advance are fading.

Which leaves me with one question:

If my house needs to be ready for company at a moment’s notice, when will I have time to relax in my pajamas with three-day hair and no makeup?

By “relax,” I mean chase my children around the house, refereeing their constant bickering and cleaning up the tornado they leave behind.  And by “ready for company,” I mean clean enough that I don’t end up on an episode of hoarders.

I’m not hoping to invite my daughter’s friends into a cover from House and Home Magazine.  I’d just like it if playmates and their parents were exempt from seeing my underwear on the bathroom floor and dried yogurt painted onto the kitchen table.  Currently, if we’ve scheduled a play-date, I probably made sure I would have time to wipe the boogers off my clothes and sweep the cheerios under a rug.  With two kids under 5, any attempts at picking up are merely exercises in futility, so tidying the house requires a nap time or the strategic sacrifice of one room while I clean another.  It’s a logistical nightmare.

So what I really want to know is: How do they do it, those families with tidy houses?  Just the idea of being “on” 24-7 leaves me feeling exhausted.  But I also can’t stomach the idea of friends (and even family) coming over to the disaster that is my house (and me) on a regular basis.  I need a few days a week when I can focus on my kids and taking care of myself.  Sometimes that means a shower and a trip to the library.  Many times it means crafts in our pajamas at 2:30p p.m.

I’m seriously looking for wisdom here.  Do you keep a tidy house?  What is your secret?  Or are you like me, hiding in your messy house?

Paying For Sanity

1 Apr

As I sit here typing, my four-year-old and one-year-old are in the other room playing nicely together, sharing toys and building a town out of Duplo blocks.  I haven’t gotten my butt out of this overstuffed chair in over 15 minutes and the music of my choice is playing in the background (I’m on a Brett Dennan kick, if you must know).

I pay for this time every Monday afternoon.  You see, I have the world’s best babysitter.  Her sister babysat for No1 before heading off to college, passing the babysitting legacy to J.  They are both great neighborhood kids from an amazing family, and they are all mine (I may share their number with you for a small finders’ fee and a signed non-compete clause).  J has known No1 from the time she was 9 months old and is one of the only people outside of the family that No2 is comfortable around.  She has this playful yet stern nature and has wisdom befitting someone much older than her 13 years.  And she LOVES my kids.  I’m pretty sure she would come over and play with them even if I didn’t pay her.

When J was unable to babysit on piano lesson days, I was initially reluctant to shell out $10 an hour on a different day for “no good reason.”  But it’s turned out to be one of the highlights of my week.  I get time to write, or cook, or do something for myself, and the kids get time with someone much better at playing pretend than I am.

It always feels like money well-spent.

JamesandJax.com/2013/03/04/making-time-for-girlfriends/

Lost For Words

6 Jan

We were trapped in the car when the questions started.

Hey, Mommy?

If somebody dies in their house, and the mailman brings them their mail but they’re dead, how does the mailman get them their mail?

Um, what?!

The mailman would come to their door but they’d be dead.

Um….

So what would happen to the mail?

I think the mail would pile up and the mailman would eventually take it back to the post office.

Then new people would live the in house?

Yes, then new people would get their mail delivered to the house.

What about if all the mommies and daddies were dead and there were no more mommies or daddies.  Who would make more mommies?  Would robots make more mommies and daddies?

Um, Daddy?  Want to take this one?

No1 asks deep, serious questions, and we’re committed to answering her as honestly as possible.  But sometimes, her left-field questions just make us giggle and we stumble over our words, searching for what to say.  These moments are my favorite with my four-year-old.  Her innocence, her curiosity, her direct nature.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

What’s the strangest, funniest, or most awkward question your child has asked you?

My Life is Literally a Blur

5 Sep

 

This is pretty much what my days look like.

If I turn my back for a moment,

the baby has already reached the door,

and the preschooler is a blur.

I know I will miss these days,

so I’m trying not to wish them away.

But oh,

I am so very tired.

My Toy Shit List

9 Jul

Pardon me for a moment while I break from my usual introspective, touching, deep posts, but this must be said.

I accept that having small kids means toys.  A coffee table that once held an arrangement of candles is now marked by crayon and carpeted in matchbox cars.  I don’t walk in the kitchen anymore without first scouting out what is sure to be a mine field of plastic food and rattles.  My bedroom – my sanctuary – has two toy bins, which are usually empty because the toys are all over the floor. I’m okay with all of it.  It’s like the pile of laundry on the stairs.  After a while, you don’t even notice it anymore.  You just step right on over it, ignorant of its existence.

I’ve even grown fond of toys I never though I could.  When my neighbor brought over a toy drum set with miscellaneous noise polluters percussive toys inside, she left it on my front step and waved from across the street, clearly glad to be passing it on to another family.  Turns out, there is nothing cuter than a toddler playing the snare drum, marching around the house and asking you to join the parade.  I consider myself pretty toy-tolerant.  I mean, come on.  I would have loved a toy drum set as a kid.  And the pop-up tent?  Instant castle.  Or space ship.  Or Cave.  Worth the hassle.

But there are a few toys that I hate with a passion.

1. Disney Princess TIny Dolls.  What the fuck is it about tiny toys that makes them so appealing to kids? Remember Micromachines?  My brother and I were NUTS for Micromachines.  ”Look!  I got a new tiny car!  It’s exactly the same as my Hot Wheels except it’s smaller and the wheels don’t turn!”  These small aristocrats even come with tiny plastic dresses (and sometimes shoes!) that come off.  The best part?  Apparently the clothes don’t go back on without the help of a parent.  It’s inconvenient AND chokable.

credit: squinkies.com

2. Squinkies.  Even tinier but with less point.  At least the princesses are dolls.  They can act out stories after their wardrobe changes.  But will somebody please explain to me what these are supposed to be and why my daughter wants them “SOOOO bad, mommy!”  They are not allowed in our house.

3. Books with sound effects.  You know what the great thing about books is?  They’re quiet.  It’s the one quiet thing in the house that my preschooler loves to do.  They’re supposed to be about using your imagination to fill in the imagery and get lost in the story.  Those “match up the picture with the sound button” books take away from the story.  They wake up sleeping babies.  And anyway, I do a pretty wicked impression of a bumblebee opening a squeaky door.  I don’t really need it built into the book.

4. Bath Whistles.  Or any musical bath toy of any kind.  The inventor of these toys couldn’t possibly have had kids.  ”Let’s see…small children love loud noises…they can’t do anything in moderation…and bathrooms are usually small spaces with great acoustics…I know!  A bath whistle!  They’ll love that!”  FAIL.

It’s the Duke of Swirl.
I wish I was kidding.
Credit: Popnology.com

5. Candyland.  I truly ADORE playing games with my preschooler.  It’s astounding how much she understands about strategy and turn-taking, and it’s a great opportunity to work on social skills.  I will play Go Fish with her any day.  Or Memory.  We even have some Disney Princess dominos that are great fun.  But Candyland makes me want to bang my head against a wall.  Sometimes I stack the deck to make sure nobody goes backward to those “special character spaces,” lest the game last for 35 minutes.  And have you seen the art on the updated game?  Creepy.

So that’s my toy shit list.  The five biggest offenders.  Oh, I’ll probably end up putting up with them anyway because I love my kids, but that won’t keep me from complaining about it.

I gotta know.  Which of your kids’ toys do you secretly want to throw out?

Sisters

4 Jul

When we found out we were having a girl with baby No2, we were a little disappointed.  Hubs is the last male of his generation, and so the family name will end with him.  We were hoping for a boy, but then when the tech announced girl, I think we both sighed with relief.  We knew how to do girls.  We had all the stuff.  And deep down, two girls just felt like a good fit for us.

I grew up the oldest sister of two brothers.  Which means I know how to dig for worms, I’m not afraid of snakes, and I’m good with a video game controller.  But I always wanted a sister.  Someone to share secrets with…to share clothes and makeup with.

Now that No2 is 6 months old and can sit and play a bit, big sister is really enjoying the baby.  Watching your children interact is an amazing life experience.  I could watch them play endlessly.  No one makes the baby laugh like No1.  Nobody.  She lights up the moment her big sister comes into the room.  I can just picture them, 10 and 13, whispering about boys, grumbling about how mean mom is about cell phones – It’s how I imagined having a sister would have been like.

So don’t mind me.  I’ll just be here living vicariously through my children.  That’s healthy, right?

Today.

27 Jun

3am Feed baby.  Pee.  Go back to sleep.

5am Feed baby.  Negotiate with cat for space on the bed.  Go back to sleep.

7am Pretend to be sound asleep when hubs gets up with the now completely awake baby.

7:30am Nurse Baby.  Beg husband to hang around for just a few more minutes so I can shower.  Put in headband for no-heat curls.

8am Breakfast.  Pop Tarts.  Untoasted.  Since there are two in a sleeve, I count it as one serving.

8:30am Preschooler awakens and immediately grabs toys for baby.  A good moment.  I make a note to soak it in.

9am Fruity cereal for the preschooler and smashed bananas for the baby.  I take my antidepressant and anti anxiety meds with a swig of the preschooler’s leftover juice.

9:30am Take out headband, look in mirror.  No-heat FAIL.  Pin hair to head in makeshift bun while the preschool plays with makeup and the baby chews on curlers.

10:30am How is it already 10:30?!  We were supposed to leave 20 minutes ago!  Speed-nurse baby and rush out the door.

11:15am Tutoring.  Baby screams her head off when I pass her off.  And yet, I connect with my student and think of how far she’s come.

12:15pm Piano Lesson.  Ignore anxiety as student’s mom consoles preschooler who has hit her head.  Baby falls asleep in carrier while I prepare my oldest student for Sunday’s recital.  We laugh about mistakes and at musical geek jokes.  Think how well everything is going.

1pm Back to Mom’s house to check on her cat.  Nurse baby while playing with miniature Cars figurines.  Why do they even make toys this small?  And why do children gravitate to them?  Attempt to set alarm.  Fail.  Run out the door as it beeps and counts down.  Cross fingers the cops don’t appear.

2pm Arrive at mall for lunch.  Without a stroller.  Carry baby, diaper bag, and portable potty seat like a pack animal.  Make a mental note for when my back is strained tomorrow.

2:30pm Lunch in the food court.  Burger King.  Fellow mall rats smile as they watch me attempt to keep my chicken sandwich out of the baby’s elasto-arm grasp.  Share fries with preschooler.  Sigh with happiness.

3:00pm Drive home while baby screams.  For 35 minutes.  For no apparent reason.  Jingle car keys and play “What Does A Monkey Driving a Tow Truck Sound Like?” with preschooler in an attempt to keep baby awake for the last 3 minutes of the ride.  This nap WILL happen at home.

3:30pm Preschooler in room for rest.  Nurse and nap baby.  Call Mom back.  Crash on couch.

3:45pm Baby cries.  Snuggle baby.  Check on preschooler.  Remove Barbie shoe from child’s mouth.  Again with the small toys.

4:00pm Retrieve Barbie car for preschooler.  Baby cries.  Snuggle baby back to sleep.

4:30pm Relieve preschooler from resting.  Say no to television but yes to computer game, which toddler uses to watch an episode of her favorite show anyway.  Sigh inwardly and move on.

5pm Nurse cranky baby.  Carry cranky baby around while attempting to make spaghetti dinner, put in a white load of laundry, prep cloth diapers for the wash, and discipline preschooler who is now mad at the computer.

5:30pm Dinner.  Without the guest who promised to come.  Make excuses to preschooler throughout dinner.  Try not to be mad.

6:30pm Bath.  Ask preschooler what she wants to play with.  ”Baby Sister,” is her reply.  Smile.

6:45pm Beg preschooler to be helpful since Mommy is on her own tonight for bedtime.  Leave her “brushing” her teeth to dress the baby.

7pm Husband walks upstairs.  Divide and conquer.  Cuddle notatalltiredseemommyIcanholdmyeyesopen baby to sleep.

7:30pm Clean kitchen.  Switch laundry.  Apologize to husband for the mess.

8pm Fold laundry.  Notice this is the most relaxing thing I’ve done all day.

8:30pm Ignore second load of laundry beeping in the dryer.  Sit down with computer and decompress.

9pm Lie in bed.  Stare at ceiling.  Attempt to sleep.

10pm Nurse baby.

12am Start all over again.

Our Morning…or My First Vlog…or Susan Makes a Fool of Herself

28 Mar

So I had a moment the other day when I realized our morning was pretty great.  Messy and great.  And I wanted to document it.

I have no idea what possessed me to make it into a vlog.  And an embarrassing one at that.  With me in no makeup.  But I sure am glad I’m not alone.  A’Driane’s doing it too.

So Enjoy!

Mother’s Pride

18 Mar

Thanks to Charity over at Our Giggles and Grimaces for inspiring us to be proud of our successes.  As mothers and women, we don’t brag about ourselves enough.  We worry that it will look like boasting, or will intimidate others, so we pretend to be smaller than we are. I’m so glad she’s asked us to hold our heads up high and share the good!

I’m proud of myself for….hmmm…you know what?  I’ve faced a lot of adversity in the last three years and I’ve always joked that I didn’t have to do it with grace – that I just needed to survive.  But when I look back, I’m proud of how I’ve handled myself.  I’ve come through the PPD, the anxiety, the antenatal depression, the baby’s birth, two herniated disc episodes, and the death of two grandparents with composure and introspection.  I’ve asked for help, spoken up and called doctors, gone to therapy, and done the work to get better.

As a mother, I’ve made breastfeeding No2 a priority.  As long as I believe it’s still in her best interest, I will continue to fight for it.  I’ve had to be flexible and adjust my expectations of what breastfeeding will be for us, which has been the hardest part.  But I’m making it work.

I’ve coped with No1′s toddler antics calmly and rationally in the last few months.  She’s so very three and still adjusting to having a baby sister, so things have been tense.  But I believe I parent her with a good balance of discipline and affection.

I went back to teaching lessons 6 weeks after the baby was born.  I missed the kiddos and worried they would get behind, but mostly, I did it for me. It’s my “In the Zone” time and I love it.  It’s a ton of work to make it happen each week and I couldn’t do it without my awesome family and friends, but I’m proud of myself for being gutsy enough to give it a try.

So there you go.  That feels pretty good, actually.  Won’t you join us?

Head on over to Our Giggles and Grimaces and link up!

Breast is Best

17 Mar

Breastfeeding was a nightmare with my first daughter.  We started off 12 hours behind as she spent time in the NICU with oxygen to clear the fluid from her lungs and antibiotic injections for the high white cell count.  By the time I got her, she had been poked and prodded, pacified, and given formula.  Adding latch issues and a nippleshield to the mix at the hospital left me feeling completely incompetent.  When she began violently vomiting entire feeds several times a day we suspected milk allergy.  When she arched and screamed at every meal she was diagnosed with reflux.  And when it all became too much and I had dealt with mastitis and painful clogged ducts for three months, we switched to formula.  Her pediatrician looked me in the eye and suggested I stop nursing, I was relieved.  I needed someone to give me permission to stop.  Because otherwise it felt like giving up.  I remember sitting in a rocking chair with No1 and sobbing, “I’m so sorry.  I just can’t do it any more.  I tried but I just can’t.”  I felt like a failure.

As it turns out, formula feeding her was exactly what we both needed.  It relieved so much of the anxiety that was crushing me in those early months.  She became healthy and happy.  Feedings were no longer battles that dominated the day and set the mood each night.  Life went on without breastfeeding for us.  Now she is an amazing three year old who has only ever had one ear infection.  She can correctly pronounce the names of two dozen dinosaurs and give you their characteristics.  She loves her mom and knows she is loved.  Formula both fed AND nurtured her.

When asked while I was pregnant about breastfeeding, my answer was always, “I’d like to try but I’m open to whatever will be best for both the baby and me.”  And I meant it.  At least I thought I did.

No2′s birth was amazing.  I really need to write her birth story up before I forget the details.  She was placed on my chest immediately, spent no time away from us, and roomed with me for our entire hospital stay (minus a few visits to the nursery for weigh ins and pediatric screenings).  When I put her to my breast moments after her birth, she suckled – and my heart soared.  By the time we left the hospital, my milk had already come in and two lactation consultants had visited and told me how amazingly we were nursing.  It felt like a whole new beginning.

And for two weeks, she nursed and slept like a dream baby.  I was relaxed and easy with her; amazed at the bond I felt so quickly.  Then the screaming began.  You know the scream: ear-shattering.  She gasped for air in-between sobs and whimpered in her sleep.  And despite the commonly accepted wisdom that “babies cry” and “colic has no cure”, I knew my baby was in pain.  When she started having green, foamy stools and the pediatrician was at a loss, I turned to the internet.  Kellymom.com had my answer.  Milk imbalance.  I overproduce milk and baby was only getting the watery fore milk, making her gassy and crampy.  I began pumping a few ounces before nursing her, block fed, and felt convinced I had my answer.

And she got better.  A little.  Until she got worse.  She would spend an entire day refusing to eat more than a small snack.  She would scream if I positioned her for a feed.  The only time she would nurse without a struggle was at night.  I exhausted all of my options (I know…I should have gone in MUCH sooner.  It shouldn’t have been a last option.  I kept thinking it was getting better.  Doh.)  and finally went in to see a lactation consultant.  I had spoken over the phone several times with her but it was time to let her watch for herself.  And she was immediately convinced No2 was suffering from reflux. Cue the giant (ironic?) sigh of relief.

I’m happy to say that after over a week on reflux medication, things are looking up.  She’s even started handling the fast flow more easily and occasionally stops to smile at me while nursing.  I’m hopeful we’ll have a long and successful breastfeeding relationship.

Here’s the thing…When things were really bad, I seriously considered quitting.  I had nothing to prove to anyone and know from experience that a formula-fed baby can be healthy and happy.  But I wasn’t ready to give up.  Friends and family encouraged me to listen to my gut and reassured me that they would stand behind whatever decision I made ( have some kick-ass friends and family).  And a few well-meaning people told me that bottle-feeding was just as good as breastfeeding.  But the truth is, it’s not.  Formula feeding my children was (and will be) always a second choice…a Plan B.

I think it’s incredibly important not to judge or shame mothers who formula feed.  It makes me sick when I read ignorant posts equating formula to junk food (They’re out there.  Don’t go searching for them…it’ll only piss you off, too).  Each mother chooses what is best for her baby and herself, and should be able to feed and nuture her baby without judgement from others.  PhD in Parenting wrote a brilliant piece recently on the new APA’s new statement that breastfeeding is a public health issue and not only a lifestyle choice.

Please click over and go read it – she has some great points about why moms get defensive when told that “breast is best” and compares the recommendations to things like the food pyramid and exercise recommendations. I could go on and on, but she really says everything that needs to be said.

My decision to continue breastfeeding isn’t stubbornness.  It isn’t selfish (as one of my nurses recently suggested, telling me I might need to “give up what I want and do what’s best for the baby” because nursing was difficult).  And it isn’t simply a lifestyle choice.  Breastmilk is medically superior to formula.  And when I say that, I truly mean no disrespect to moms who have supplemented or have used formula exclusively.  I am merely giving my reason for fighting so hard to make it work.

I’m proud to have breastfed 11 weeks.  It’s been a ton of work and I’m very fortunate to have both the resources and support to continue to work through the challenges.  Does it make me a better mom than one who formula-feeds her baby?  Of course not.  But it does make me the best mom I can be for my baby and our particular situation.  So I will continue advocating for it, knowing that my friends and family will continue to support me. More importantly, I’m done letting others (like my doctors) minimize its importance.

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