Thought for the day ~

Our life is a 3 ring circus and sometimes I feel like the big top and other times...I'm just the guy scooping up at the end of the parade.

Nicole was watching me bounce back and forth the other day between the two kids and mentioned how hard it must be to split my attention. I agreed. But honestly it's more than that. It's getting Nora to not be angry or resentful

Moment to moment ~ May 14th, 2014

Yesterday I asked Nora to check on Owen while I was cooking dinner. He was in his bouncer but had started to fuss and my hands were full. She didn't respond but everything had gone quiet. I came rushing out from the kitchen to find her stroking his head and singing to him in a whisper the Daniel Tiger song "Grown Ups Come Back".

Today was uncomfortably hot and the baby started to get sweaty and irritable so we did naked baby time. He was all smiles and baby rolls, laughing and cooing, grabbing and pulling at toys. We stood him up on her lap and she enveloped him in a hug saying, "I love you, baby."

She has so much love and tenderness for him yet so much jealousy. It's a year of extremes so far and her world is full of them. One moment she's shrieking in anger to get attention and wake him and the next she's consoling him while standing on her special stool she brings over to the changing table to help with him. I wish I could make it easier for her, I wish I had the energy to keep up with our old activities for her sake, but I mostly just wish she would go to sleep without a battle because we're exhausted.

Mother's Day: Flowers and Freakouts ~ May 11, 2014

The day started off like most. Nora woke up at first light, began singing to herself, harassing Jamie to make her breakfast, and Owen woke me up as soon as he heard her and wanted to nurse, talk, and fart on me. Today was Mother's Day. A holiday that apparently was created by a woman to honor her mother but never had any children or married herself (it's true, look it up). Why does a made-up day, a holiday, create such pressure on people to behave in a certain manner? I assume that's what rational people wonder to themselves. Me? I was looking forward to our now thrice celebrated tradition of donuts and the house being clear of children for an hour or so. If the excuse of Mother's Day gave me that I was a-ok with it all.

Off they went for their donut walk and I dug in to leftovers for breakfast and watched the Sunday Morning Show. The one show I watch when it airs and everyone in the household knows to not bother me. The one show I enjoyed watching out of all the ones I was forced to watch while growing up. Mother's Day in our household normally involved badly hand-made items for our mother, including crappy cards and home ec monstrosities, and the Sunday Morning Show would normally be playing in the background to all of this. We didn't take her anywhere nice, do anything particularly special for her, or indulge her with alone time because our father, is and was, a degenerate deadbeat who never appreciated how hard she worked or how much she did and cared for all of us.

I thought about that as I drank my coffee in the sweet silence of our living room decorated with Nora and Owen's toys, pictures on the mantle, baskets of laundry adorning the dining room table, and listened to the news segments on my show. My current life is a drastic departure from my past. I like my life now, temper tantrums and all. Every mom deserves to be made to feel that her family loves her and appreciates her. I hoped all the moms I knew and loved were having a good day (or at least not being pestered).

          

 

       

They returned from their donut outing with a surprise bouquet of beautiful variegated purple tulips, a jug of milk, a box of donuts from Tonalli's and Nora screaming. Even with Owen asleep in the stroller, it still wasn't enough undivided attention with her father so she tried to run off more than once and became furious when they didn't stop at Kennedy School (can't say I blame her). If anything I'm jealous I don't get to freak out like a three year old.

They joined me for the last part of the Sunday Morning Show and we attempted to eat donuts while being attacked by our children like rabid raccoons. We fed Nora the bready inside of the donuts to fend her off. Owen was smacking his mouth as soon as they returned and was now attached to me for a nonstop nursing frenzy. He didn't mind the donut crumbs on his head one bit. 

Jamie announced that they were going to take me out to Edgefield for a hike around the property. I was excited and hurried to get all emergency necessities crammed into my clown car/purse as fast as possible. We were able to load everyone in to the car and pull away from the curb and got to two blocks before Nora started screaming "no" in an ever rising volume and octave. She didn't like the route we were taking. We explained that we were going to Edgefield and pacified her with snacks to shut her up. I silently hoped that she wouldn't pee herself on the ride out there since she refused to use the potty before we left. Owen fell asleep after a few minutes of fussing and was happily farting in his sleep.

Fun was had by all. We marched them around the property and enjoyed the frolicking antics of Nora that were punctuated by attempts to run away and freak out meltdowns over the slightest frustration or misunderstanding. It's like chaperoning a drunk mentally ill foreigner with a lose grasp of the English language. I would say "I imagine" but I've done so and it's very similar.

       

   

Nap in the car. The dreaded curse of parents everywhere. Nora fell asleep after so much drama, excitement, sugar and giving chase that we now would be facing the situation of whether or not to wake her once we were home since she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep once we pulled her out of the carseat. Jamie offered to stay in the car with her while I took Owen inside for his nap since he was awake. He sat with her for about an hour before she woke up freaking out once again. He brought her inside and let her sleep on top of him while he watched a movie. Owen and I resumed our position on the couch of him nursing and Jamie announced that my next surprise would be arriving around 3pm. An in-home massage. What an awesome mother's day!

"Let It Go" ~ May 11th, 2014

This has been a wonderful Mother's Day weekend of many magical and "oh-my-sweet-christ-why-did-we-have-children?!" moments. Nora dressing up and pretending to be Princess Elsa, capturing Owen laughing for the 1st time ever on video by chance (huge surprise, Nora was cracking him up), her telling me breathlessly that I looked beautiful (I was dressed up garishly like a spazzy Madonna wannabe for an 80's prom themed dance party),

3 months, 3.2 years, 4.3 years of motherhood ~ May 4, 2014

Nora is trying to channel Princess Elsa from Frozen. She's mastered singing "Let It Go". Unfortunately, the only lyrics she has memorized are those exact words, "Let it go." The irony of course is that she WON'T let it go. She dances waltzing circles in her room, repeating those three words, to the tune of the song. It's like we're being serenaded by the ghost of a hippie therapist.

Meanwhile our three month old must be sneaking protein shakes because he's in 6 month size clothes and has three chins. His size 1 cloth diapers are cutting in to his Michelin man legs and his Kung Fu mullet hair sinks in to his shoulder roll. I think he ate another baby. If I change my clothes in front of him he drewls and clucks his tongue at me while toothlessly smiling. There's finally a bigger fan of my boobs than Jamie in the house.

He's sucking the life out of me via those boobs and I don't mind because I'm so in love with his toothless smile and crazy cooing. (Ok, the back ache and hormonal roller-coaster is not pleasant but at least I know it ends and that someday I'll recover, I hope.) Nora refers to it as his "Oahu-ing" and he sounds a bit like a deranged owl when he "talks to sissy" so it makes his nickname of O-wee even more fitting. He loves to stare in to our eyes and talk, it's mesmerizing. He waves, pats and strokes when cuddling, grabs with his monkey toes, and reaches out to hold my arms when I change or bathe him while he smiles up at me. Baths are heaven to him and I love cradling him in the water against me. He doesn't even mind his hair being washed. Which turns out to be a very good thing because his scalp is mangy!

We kept joking about what a stinky boy he was until I noticed his cradle cap. Once I scrubbed his head thoroughly enough it unleashed a natural mohawk. He looks like a miniature UFC fighter now that I was able to loosen the thick layer of oil off his head. It took quite a bit of massage with coconut oil, and he fell asleep drewling and grinning during the process, but he's all scrubbed up and smelling much better. Funky but good.

His sister loves him, protects him, wants to hold him, demands to nap with him but gets sick of sharing attention with him. She doesn't scream "no" any longer, instead she chants, "Wait, wait, wait, WAAAAAAIT!" 

Screaming tantrums erupt over trivial misunderstandings and inexplicable reasons. Before she would announce her displeasure exclaiming "I never!" and flounce in to her room with the slam of her door. Now she runs in to her room, wedges herself under her bed, and screams as if we're trying to force her to listen to country music. If that doesn't get her the attention she wants she then escalates to potty protests. Meaning, she stands in the middle of a room and pees herself to get attention.

My life right now consists of wiping butts, diapering butts, sniffing butts, and bouncing them. When I'm not dealing with that end I'm working on the other. Groceries, cooking, cajoling people in to eating, breastfeeding, pumping, bottling, burping, wrestling creatures in to carseats, possibly talking to another adult and then wrangling the child that can run who does so if I talk to a fellow adult. 

My joints pop and/or grind when I sit down because my body hasn't seen more than four consecutive hours of sleep in over four years. I've used my bare hands as an emergency tissue for someone else's snot, to catch and kill vermin, to hold half eaten food, to fight off a fountain of vomit, to block urine from one child soaking the other in the face, to steady unsteady steps, to magically sooth someone to sleep, and to wipe tears away. I never really loved myself until I became a mother and like the person I am now more than before.

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.