Finding our hands and voice ~ April 21, 2014

Easter was a dud. 

Nora and I have sinus infections from seasonal allergies so we skipped the egg hunts and activities. I was disappointed not to see Nora dressed up and hunting for eggs. Nora was bummed that she couldn't play outside. I'm hoping things dry out by next weekend so we can attempt a belated egg hunt. She'll have fun hunting for plastic eggs and breaking in her new rain boots, I'll get to play paparazzi, and the boys get to sit on the porch and drink out of their respective bottles. Everyone wins.

She was interested in her Easter basket for five minutes on Sunday morning, figures. The anatomy puzzle is her new favorite obsession along with a renewed love of her dollhouse now that we've moved it into her room. Both are gently used and second hand to us. We're better off hiding and relocating toys than buying her anything new and, so far, it makes no difference to her. I'm hoping that continues. Not just because of the cost savings but the principle behind it as well. I love how gentle she can be and appreciative. We're trying to encourage those tendencies as much as possible.

Much like Owen finding his hands, we're trying to help Nora find her voice. With that comes the acceptance of her will and opinion.

Owen vs the Owl

Why do they torture us? ~ April 11, 2014

They only sleep when I don't want them to and vice versa.

I was on the way out the door to grocery shop when Owen freaked out, turned purple from screaming his head off, and promptly fell asleep the moment I pulled him out of the infant carseat insert. It was one of those moments where I had to lower my expectations, cuddle in, and let him sleep. Why didn't I join him? Because I had already main-lined a tanker of coffee after not sleeping all night. So I commenced with watching season 2 of Hannibal and managed to slip little dude into the Baby Bjorn carrier without waking him so I could do laundry as well. That's right, I got mad skills.

Later we picked up Nora from school and on the walk home, after playing in the park, we agreed to an episode of Daniel Tiger and then a nap. We watched her favorite episode "Daniel gets mad" with the helpful, yet unrealistic, diddy, "When you get real mad, Take a deep breath, (big inhale), And count to four." Two episodes later she was refusing to nap. We sang Daniel Tiger songs, we did "spa time" (her slathering my arm with lotion and I massage her hands in turn), and exchanged cuddles. Still no nap. My eyes felt like sand had been blown in them I was so tired, my ribs ached from having Owen in the carrier all day, my hip joints were killing me from being a mom mule/valet/magician/cook/maid/entertainer. I'd had it. 

I announced that we all were getting up and going to watch a show I wanted to watch (The Daily Show) and that if she didn't like it she could do quiet time in her room. Owen was crying again because he wanted to sleep, I was struggling to hurry and put my slippers on so I could tend to him when I felt a little hand patting me on my leg. A small voice asked, "You ok, mama? You mad?" The emotional guilt trip was insult to injury, "Yeah, mama, is mad!" 

I hear a big sigh from a little body leaning against me, "...and count to four."

In to the bath she went, early dinner made and consumed, Daily Show on, children piled on me, and an orchestra of snoring commenced from the two of them. I turned the volume up on the TV and laughed.

"Oh, lil' bay-beee." ~ April 8, 2014

Nora gets so excited to cuddle with Owen that she mimics the voice of the mom character, Linda, from Bob's Burgers to express herself. High praise. Nothing like a Long Island accented three year old to console a baby. "Oh, it ok, Oh-weee! It ok bay-beeeee."

 

"No pictures, mama....NO, NO, PICTURES!"

Earlier today we had met with friends at an indoor playpark in a church basement (I know, the things we do for our kids) and it was stressful at times but we survived. By "we", I mean me. I spent a good ten minutes trying to ignore an old preacher and shriveled up fellow conservative discuss the merits of Chris Christie and how World Vision went terribly wrong because they should have stuck to their guns about being anti-gay. I made a point of coughing loudly to get their attention and then whipping out my breast to feed a crying Owen. They left the room.

Nora even rolled with the roughness of the other kids and steered clear just at the right moments and checked in with me. No meltdowns, no apparent jealousy, no injury. I mentally patted myself on the back and thought we were golden. I loaded Nora in and asked her to climb over in to her carseat while I loaded a sleeping Owen into the car. I locked the car, came to the other side to buckle Nora, and opened the door to find her kissing and rubbing a now very awake and disgruntled Owen. The whole way home I silently hoped for a nap and chided myself on being so stupid as to not think to buckle Nora in immediately after getting him settled. Lesson learned.

Lunch was consumed, nursing completed, outfits changed, running to the potty, searching for the Elmo doll, diapering, another outfit change, kissing owies, watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, negotiations over watching another PBS episode but only if she napped, feeding a bottle to Owen together, fending off Jehovah Witnesses, diapering Owen again, outfit change for him, coaxing Nora to put a pull-up on. It was now 1pm. I needed a nap.

I set them up in bed together for our nap and ran to brush my teeth when Nora sat up suddenly and called for me. I came bolting back in to see a grinning Owen and a distraught older sister. When I asked what was wrong she said, "Oh, no, mama! Oh no, his feet ah' bwoken!" He had sock lint stuck to his toes. Best big sister ever.