A Long Line of Mommies

Yes, we're still co-sleeping. There is some "crib time" every night and at least an attempt for most naps but, we all seem to get the most sleep at the moment, with Noah joining me in bed. Every night that I nurse him and see him settle in next to me with a little sigh, I can't help but reflect on how we are connected to a long, long line of mommies. While a little space in our togetherness is a wonderful thing allowing me to take the occasional bubble bath and manage a shower when my husband is out of town, I can't argue with the baby logic of wanting to be close to the person who makes the food and keeps you safe and warm. Babies have cuddled through the night with their mommies for eons. It's the same sort of feeling I get when hanging up the laundry or kneading bread. Women have done this for generation after generation. I always wonder what they thought and hoped and dreamed for when they were doing the same things. Were the enjoying the sun on their face; the smell of the yeast? Were they worried about when they might get flour again; if the baby would fuss before they were done? Did they hope their daughters might not have to ever do such a chore? Would they be surprised at the pleasure I feel in the rise of the bread; the magical drying of the clothes? It's likely the closest to time travel I'll ever get and the most connected I can be to my great grandmothers as well as my great granddaughters- all of us part of a long line of mommies.

Chatting with Charlie

Me: What do you think Noah is talking about?

Charlie: I think he's talking about fire breathing dragons and kimodo dragons. Although, kimodo dragons are actually really huge lizards.

****

Charlie: Daddy I think you have an ear infection. I need to check your ears.

Daddy: Ok, do you want to come and look in them?

Charlie: I could. Or, I could use my pretend otoscope. (picking up a toy lizard)

****

Daddy: Charlie, I'm so glad you're wearing that shirt. It has a rocket and a "C" on it.

Megan: And it has a planet!

Charlie: But I don't like Saturn. It's not my favorite planet!

Daddy: What is your favorite planet?

long pause

Charlie: Mars.

Raising a Prince

So, Noah is going through this teething, motor milestone, language milestone developmental trifecta that is leaving me with a lot more time than I might like to contemplate all manner of things between midnight and 4 am. On night 2 ish my thoughts turned to the fact that Kate Middleton will likely never find herself patting the heiny of a cantankerous baby in the wee hours of the morning, night after night. Whether this is a good or bad thing can be debated by mothers better than I, at the moment, I have to confess to nothing but envy. Kate, of course, is Prince William's very soon to be wife and current co-habitator (gasp!). In addition to envying her future filled with night nurses, happy to competently pick up the slack when Kate has reached the point which every mother finds herself- at a complete loss as to anything else that she might offer said baby and longing for nothing more than an hour of quality time with a horizontal surface. I also began to wonder just what it was that made Will such a catch. Of course, there is a undeniable cachet to fact that he is a Prince, a real one, with castles and stamps and a crown hanging about. But, I think it's more than that.

After all, beyond the royal lineage, which, when you consider it, isn't exactly full of the absolute most upstanding characters, you have things that are somewhat easier to come by. Will has family money, good looks (although he is going to have to come up with a better strategy for his remaining hair), an athletic build, and at least a modicum of intelligence although I have gotten the impression he isn't quite setting the world afire in that regard, and (according to Piers Morgan) impeccable manners.

I want my boys to have as many opportunities to have rich and fulfilling lives as possible. So, I'll make the presumption that they will someday be interested in dating and, perhaps, marrying someone (male or female isn't really a paramount concern). On night 3-ish of patting the fussy, fussy, baby, I started wondering what I could learn from the wonder which is Prince William's allure. While I can't do much about family money, their looks, interest in athletics or intelligence I can raise some well mannered boys. After all, as I started contemplating the manners thing, I began remembering how much I liked boys from Texas and it's near neighbors when I was in college. While the boys differed radically in many regards, they all had courtly manners and I think that was what pushed them into such desirability. Even if I didn't want to date them, I wanted to hang around them. I didn't so much care about the specific manners, I think it really came down to the idea that my comfort mattered more than theirs. So, it wasn't that the door was opened, a chair pulled out, someone stood until I was seated, it was that feeling that I mattered. It was also just so easy to be around them and interact through those awkward first bits of meeting. Small talk is a skill and if you have some social rules to fall back on and practice implementing them, it makes all the difference. Hell, just navigating coat removal, perusing the menu and parsing out the dinner rolls could carry you through the first 15 minutes of a date and somehow, everything seems a little better once you have a dinner roll.

And, so, I have decided that come what may, I am somehow going to impart some lovely manners on my boys. How that will be done, I have no idea. I suspect the first step will be getting Charlie to stop picking his nose or at least to stop eating it...

Just a couple of minutes...

1. I started using Chrome as a browser. It is faster but the autofill is slowly driving me insane and for some reason it's always taking me to facebook.

2. Noah may have his first "word." It started just shy of 8 months. He tends to say "mmm" to indicate hunger. It seems to be multipurpose as most early language is, indicating wanting to nurse, wanting another bite (he finally came around to solids), asking for a cracker to nibble, and, most enchantingly, speculating that something would be ideal for teething on.

3. I drew smiley faces on the insteps of Megan's outer soles. She can now put her shoes on the correct feet by making them smile at one another. She is very proud of this achievement.

4. Charlie is completely astounded at the idea that kindergarten involves going to school on Mondays. He's never been to school on a Monday and, prior to this week, the thought of going never entered his head. It reminded me of last year when I told him he would go to school on Fridays. His response: "But, Mommy, when will we go to Target?"

The Highly Active Infant at age 4

So, I still get lots and lots of hits for my "highly active infant" post. I thought it might be heartening to hear how things turned out once we got past the infant stage. Also, I will note that while Charlie was very, very busy so was his sister (although she was somewhat better at self soothing). When Charlie was a baby, I was really worried that he might have ADHD. I worried he would never learn to sleep for any length of time. I worried I was doing it all wrong. I worried that I would never manage to babyproof well enough that he would see age 2. None of these things were true either for Charlie or Megan. Although, I will say my house has some impressive baby proofing at this point. :-) While Charlie never met a drawer he wouldn't open, Megan never met something she didn't consider appropriate for climbing. To round out the group, Noah doesn't seem nearly as much on the always in motion side but he is OMG fussy, fussy, fussy but, that is another type of baby entirely.

Anyway, for those staring at the infant that won't sleep, can't be put down, and seems to be in perpetual motion, let there be light...

There does seem to be something to the whole assertion that these types of children are gifted. Now, I'm not really prepared to go down the whole "gifted" path at this point but I will say that both Charlie and Megan tended to run ahead of the curve on most skills. Megan was speaking in 2 word sentences by 12 months and making 8 block towers by 13 months. Charlie got a speech evaluation at age 2.5 and was about 6-8 months above where you would expect. He's been able to read a clock to the 1/2 hour since he was a late 3. In short, they do seem to be busy, in part, because they are learning at a very rapid pace.

Charlie, especially, is a very empathetic little boy. For the longest time, he would befuddle his preschool teacher by crying every time another child cried. She would always be trying to figure out what had happened to him, assuming she had missed something while attending the other child.

Charlie does still need a lot of help to wind down and is still easily overstimulated. We bought headphones to use in the car so he can block out Noah's crying. He will often wear them, turned off, even when Noah isn't crying just to enjoy the quiet. He will go up to his bed for a break when things are too busy and we have never had a large birthday party for him. I hosted a playgroup for Megan's 2nd birthday with around 8 children and that was too much for him. He retreated to his room with my mother for most of the gathering. We are very careful to not overschedule him- skipping children's choir, pee-wee soccer and any number of other activities. But, it's a careful balance as he does get bored at home. The priority for us is to make sure we are home in the evenings as we still stick very closely to a bedtime and bedtime routine. He finally started sleeping through the night at 3 years, 2 months. So, it does happen eventually. :-) He now sleeps through all manner of disturbances with our remaining big challenge being trying to figure out how to night train him- a project for this summer.

Charlie shows no signs of ADHD and got a glowing report from his preschool teacher about his academic readiness for preschool. It gets better. It really does.

Contentment

I have been thinking a lot about contentment over the last couple of weeks. The defining moment was when I had a home party. I had an idea in mind of what I wanted to "earn." I was discouraged when I managed to pick a date that wound up being unworkable for many people. But, in the end, I had a small but fun group over and we had a wonderful time. No one ordered much but I wasn't terribly concerned. I had an amount budgeted to spend and the month's specials allowed me to get what I wanted, within my budget, without any hostess benefits at all. I was content with my items and happy to have had such a fun time.

Then, when I did wind up with some hostess benefits, I struggled to figure out how to use them as I have been making a concerted effort to avoid "stuff." After that, I started hearing about other people's parties. How much they had "earned," all the neat stuff they had acquired, and their free shipping. It took me a couple of days to regain my contentment.

I continually reflect on what I would like my children to learn and what I would most like to teach them. One of the things I have been struggling with is teaching them contentment. There are constant small battles over whatever the other one has and demands to set the timer or enforce turns. While there is a time and a place for that, there are also times that I simply say, "The only reason you want that is because your sister has it. Find something else to play with." I was thinking about the way that I often utterly fail to follow that instruction myself. I am perpetually noticing things to yearn for instead of simply being content with what I have.

I struggle a lot with the whole "keeping perspective" advice. I often find myself stressed out and frustrated with a fussy baby, whining toddler, and pouty four year old and try to remind myself of how lucky I am to have them, to have food for them to refuse to eat, a house for them to wreck and toys for them to bicker over. I think of the homeless families all over, the mother's struggling in war zone, refugees, Darfur and how very fortunate I am. Unfortunately, I tend to wind up still frustrated and stressed but with a sprinkle of guilt on top. The "keep perspective" advice just pulls you back into that trap of comparison and coveting but in reverse.

I have decided to take my own advice and focus on "contentment" for the remainder of Lent as a second Lenten sacrifice (we also went with a paperless kitchen). I am going to try to give up comparing and coveting and instead be content. Notice, I didn't say "happy." I think"happy" is a trap. To be happy all the time is exhausting and ignores other feelings you might have. I can be stressed and frustrated in the moment. I can have plans and hopes and goals and aspirations. But, I can be content with the jeans that do the job if they might need to be hiked up fairly frequently while also aspiring to buy a couple pairs that actually fit next fall. I can be content with the baby I cuddle through the night if also having a plan to cuddle slightly less and sleep slightly more. I can be content with a body that is reasonably healthy and has brought 3 children into the world while also having a goal to manage a couch to 5k this summer. "Content" allows space for real feelings while also allowing freedom from the constant comparisons that come so naturally to us. "Content" leads to "enough" and I find no other feeling quite so comfortable as "enough." Now, to see if I can pull of a reasonable approximation of "content" while driving 3 screaming children to school through a never ending road construction project...

Overreacting

Generally speaking I find my husband to be a compassionate, caring, sympathetic husband. There have been 2 notable occasions during our parenting career.

The first was when Megan was only a few weeks old. She was sleeping in the c0-sleeper and, as new mothers do, I put my hand on her back to check that she was still breathing. My hand didn't move. I turned on the light, shook her (gently), called her name and generally tried to rouse her. I had just announced (rather hysterically) to my husband that Megan was dead and was reaching for the phone to call 911 when she finally came out of her deep sleep. In the morning, my husband said that I have given him quite the scare and to please be sure our children really weren't breathing before telling him that they were dead and/or not breathing. I, with great restraint, didn't punch him.

The second time happened yesterday. I set the children up at the table with their afternoon snack, stepped into the next room to retrieve a forgotten yogurt container, stepped back and had Charlie ask me who that strange man on the deck was. I asked a few brief questions hoping I had misunderstood and that it was a pretend man, an animal, his father, anything other than a strange man on the deck. As we live on an acre lot, there is really no reason anyone would ever wander so close to the house as our back deck, not that I can really think of any reason anyone would ever wander onto the back deck of anyone's house. My thoughts raced. We live in a very low crime area but we tend towards random, absolutely horrible occasional crimes. Last week there had been a man wandering around outside the high school with a shotgun that led to a lock down. I wasn't sure if he had been caught.

While it probably would have been a better choice to hole up in the bathroom and call 911, all I could focus on was getting the children away from the man. I shoved shoes and coats on the older two, picked up Noah and ran us all out to the van- just outside the kitchen door. I never knew I could latch 3 children in so very quickly. As I drove down our road, that never has any random traffic, being a gravel, dead end road, I looked around for any reason a man would be in our yard- meter readers, cable guys, anything. I saw a white pickup turning out of the street but for reasons known only to my subconscious, I felt confident that it wasn't a workman's truck. I'm pretty sure it was the man who lives at the end of the road. We drove to the police station where Charlie gave a description and then hung out at Chik-fil-a until my husband would be home.

I've been up off and on most of the night and that's saying something with the level of sleep deprivation I'm fielding. I've been trying to come up with what we will do today since I'm not comfortable being in the house alone with the children. I once had a psychology teacher tell my class that once you had children, your nightmare changed. Prior to children, your worst nightmares generally involved you being in danger or your death. After children, your worst nightmares generally involved danger to them. While I was only steps away and in sight of them for most of their encounter, I keep thinking of them being in danger without their first and most ardent protector, their mother. What if the man had waved a gun, broke through the glass, or done any number of other horrible things and I hadn't been right there to do whatever had to be done to protect them. What if they had been scared, or worse, and alone for however brief a time. How will I bring myself to leave them alone in a room again to do something as basic as changing Noah's diaper or go to the bathroom? I told my husband that I thought I would get over those feelings fairly soon. Probably by Monday, I would be ok in the house with the kids alone during the day. After all, it only took me an hour to get past the strong desire to own a gun which I would carry in a holster all day; prior to this I took the long way around WalMart to get from diapers to home goods so I could skip seeing the hunting rifle display.

My husband thinks he saw the strange man with a couple other people at our sort of neighbor's house. They are selling and their house is vacant. Our hope is that they were looking at buying the house but we still have no idea why they would come into our yard much less wander onto our deck. I'm hoping to call the realtor today.

The capping point is that my husband has to go out of town on Sunday. Things haven't gone well with trip plans this time. I really need help during the dinner, bath, bed sprint. It can be done alone but it's very challenging and if you're coming off a solo parenting day (and more so, a solo parenting night), it's just that much harder. The isn't a babysitter to be found on Sunday or Monday night. Megan has been having frequent night wakings for unknown reasons the last few days. Noah is still a handful and a half at night and isn't terribly happy with anyone but me at any time of the day or night. Charlie is learning how to read which is fabulous but whenever he is learning a new skill, his behavior and sleep fall apart- happily, he no longer loses all potty skills, too. Penny has yet another ear infection and requires drops twice a day. In short, I really wasn't looking forward to my husband's absence even though this was a short trip with a Tuesday night return. Add in "strange man on the deck" and it's become my own personal little vision of horrible.

I'm pushing for us to go on the trip as a family. It's within a 5 hour drive and near my parent's house. The children and I can stay with them while he does his thing. There are several snags. Noah continues to hate the car and car seat with the heat of 10,000 flaming suns. I generally find my mother to be roughly as stressful to interact with as any stress she's relieving and double that when we're at her house. My husband has to get home Tuesday night since he has a morning class on Wednesday so our driving home timeline has little flexibility to accommodate child bedtimes, etc. At the same time, no babysitter, no sleeping, and strange man... My husband is opining that I'm overreacting. I'm showing great restraint and not punching him.

Triggers

Charlie seems to be entering the time of life that leads to lots of triggers for horrors long past for me. (FYI-horrors might be a tad strong but scans nicely.) I've been working hard to make sure to keep my baggage separate from my parenting but it's a tough thing.

Charlie's getting ready to start kindergarten in the fall. At least I hope he is. We have a conference with his preschool teacher in a couple of weeks in which she will give her learned opinion. I'm fairly confident he's more than ready academically but I worry about his social skills. At the same time, as I told my husband, I'm not sure the social skills he needs learning will be acquired any more smoothly in another round of preschool than they would be in kindergarten. His main downfall is assertiveness and I actually think his best tutor there is his sister, anyway. However, the lack of assertiveness brings us to the first issue...

Charlie likes to run in large circles. I occasionally worry just a tad that it indicates some sort of psychological something but I think it's actually a little boy version of pacing which his father does all the time and while my husband can be quirky, he's psychologically sound. Anyway. Charlie was running around and has his mittens attached to his coat with the little elastic clip things. This makes the mittens flap in the wind in a manner quite alluring to other little people feeling a hankering to play "chase." The upshot was that the mitten holder got ripped off and mommy did a bit of sewing over the weekend. There was rather more to the issue involving a game about good and bay guys and a jail but what it came down to was that Charlie was a victim of bullying. It was bullying in the most innocent sense. I don't think the other children had any concept of intimidation. It wasn't a terribly targeted thing. But, Charlie was also completely unable to stick up for himself. His concept of yelling consists of that fake sort of yell they do on the very genteel cartoons I allow him to watch where it's really just someone pitching their voice a bit higher. We've been practicing talking like Mommy does when she's being very stern but it still worries me about kindergarten. Charlie tends to play by himself, isn't terribly aggressive (I think he's hit Megan once in his entire life and that was when she was 3 weeks old and I think was actually a misguided attempt to play) and isn't all that assertive. He's also not terribly socially aware when it comes to pecking order and so on. The social awareness is actually a nice protective factor at the moment. He is relatively immune to teasing and verbal sorts of bullying and taunting. He tends to not even register those sorts of things. But, all of these things make him a more likely target for physical bullying.

Of course, this brings back all the bullying I experienced at various times. I'm much better at dealing with those sorts of issues now. I have a lot more confidence in myself and that helps a lot. But, it still makes it a squirmy sort of thing and I still worry a lot that I have no real idea of how to model how to not get bullied.

And So It Goes

A friend called me a couple of months ago, horribly frustrated that her daughter still wouldn't accept milk from a bottle. I was puzzled, knowing that her daughter was starting solids and the difficulties of feeding a breastfed, bottle refusing infant were soon to be a distant memory. After a day or so, I remembered what it was to be a stay at home mom with your first 5 month old. There is a feeling that you will never again leave the house again for any significant length of time without a baby attached to you, that you will never again see a movie in a theatre, sleep through the night, go on a date with your husband, take a long bubble bath or a nice dose of badly needed nyquil again.

I am now in a similar spot myself. Although, the lucky part is that this is my 3rd time around. While doing this several times in quick succession has it's own downfalls, an upside is that you haven't forgotten all that much and what you did, returns quickly. Of course, knowing you have been lost in this location before is only the barest help when trying to remember how, exactly, you managed to find your way home the last time. I have joked with friends that God must have known this would be my last baby and so sent one that would give me plenty of baby-ness so I could really get my fill. Noah continues to only sleep for any length of time while being held. So, his naps are in the rocking chair (when we are home for them, which is somewhat hit or miss and probably part of the problem) and night sleep is next to me. This periodically causes me a complete and total panic as we are solidly in the aforementioned stage. Part of me thinks that he will never leave my side, my bed, or my breast. I question why in the world I have let this go on so long and What Sort Of Mother lets herself be pushed around by a 6 month old and I must Take Steps. At the same time, I have to say that mothering a 4, 2, and 0 year old kind of takes it out of you and I sort of like sitting in the rocking chair for an hour or so in the afternoon and I'm not completely sure I wouldn't be wanting to go to bed at 8:30 anyway. I also keep remembering that I have never had a good experience with any permutation of cry it out and Noah, in particular, seems like a child who will do things when he decides to do them come what may. I think the day is fast approaching when I will start making a go of crib sleeping again for naps- the poor child never manages to get a full nap in and I suspect that's a large part of the reason he is known as "Angry Baby" but I'm willing to let it ride a while longer.

In summation...experience is a lovely thing but apparently every baby is different. Curses!

You're Doing It Wong

Does anyone else remember that line or even the movie? It's from Mr. Mom, made in 1983 when the whole stay at home dad thing was considered Teh Wacky and Ripe Comedy Fodder.

Anyway, I spend a lot of nights, just before falling asleep reflecting on the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong most of the time. I came to the conclusion that was why I'm so dedicated to breast feeding. It's one of the very few (singular?) times in parenting that you can feel quite confident you are doing it the one best way. There are lots of valid reasons to not breast feed but breastmilk, from a primary caregiver, exposed to the same pathogens the baby is, is really the way the whole baby eating thing is set up to work. Also, at this point, I'm pretty good at pulling it off. I can manage breastfeeding Noah come what may. I have breastfed in bars, in Church, wearing all manner of clothing in all manner of positions in front of pretty much the entirety of humanity. But, after the whole infant nutrition thing, I'm at a complete loss.

First, there is no cut and dry. Sleep-how much, when, where, and how achieved is veritable land mine. Vaccinations, organic vs local vs what's on sale vs homemade, diapering and the whole pthalate thing are industries unto themselves. And these are only the controversies that have arisen in the last few years. Add on the long term parenting ebbs and flow and I'm a complete basket case.

Then there come the many things I am pretty sure I should do but can't figure out how to pull off. For instance, I feel pretty strongly that kids should play outside as often as possible but weather appropriate for a 6 month old is often radically different from what is appropriate for a 4 year old. Also, it gets a little boring to do the monitoring... And, I should be hugging and cuddling Charlie more. I feel perpetually guilty about is since he is a bottomless pit of cuddle need. At the same time, I am touched All The Time by Noah. He still doesn't so much tolerate sleeping alone (a whole area of angst in itself) and doesn't much like being put down in general and then factor in the whole issue of Megan not being so great at the baby on the floor awareness. So, when I say all the time, I mean roughly 20 hours a day in close contact with a small human. The idea of cuddling with another small human sounds great in theory but in actuality, I am soooo touched out. I have to say, I think Erica Jong makes a point with this article, I do feel slightly oppressed by the whole attachment parenting thing. At the same time, I'm not really willing to put up with the hysterical sobbing that has occurred with attempts to not do the attachment parenting method either. I don't think it's the way all kids are but it does seem to be the way mine are wired. And then, I worry that my insecurity about my parenting will lead to my children being less confident. My mind at 2 am is a wonderful place to be...

I try to remind myself that children are actually really resilient. I try to remember that there are lots of ways to be a great mom. I spend a lot of time reminding myself of Babies. I found it to be less than representative of the US style of doing things, if accurate in the broad strokes so I took the other cultures' footage with a grain of salt. But, I also remind myself that if it was at all accurate, kids in Mongolia and Namibia are raised in radically different ways and those cultures haven't collapsed. Once the children become adults, they don't seem to need massive levels of psychotherapy. Although, I will say that I was totally ok with the Namibian style but had a number of qualms about the Mongolian style of parenting. This also makes me wonder what's wrong with me because the general gist of the reviews is that this is simply my overly attentive western thinking but I just can't see to it being ok to leave a baby to by himself for an hour or so while I run errands no matter what the culture- are there no Grandmas in Mongolia? Anyway, I remind myself of all of this; that there are lots of ways to be a fantastic mother. But, I also wind up wondering if other moms feel this way. I wonder if other moms have always felt this way.

Sweetness at 5:18 am

So, Noah is my fussy baby. Charlie was still probably the hardest baby with the whole not sleeping even when held thing and Megan is currently still the winner for ugliest, ugly cry but Noah, he is a fusser! He's happiest when being held by Mommy (which isn't really all that surprising) and won't sleep anywhere for any length of time except when within smelling distance of me so I am generally just able to pull off keeping the household limping along. I do pretty well with facebook, though, and am hoping to branch out to twitter again so, if you're dying for news, drop me a line with your social media info and we can be "friends" or "followers." (Why do none of them make it possible to have "minions?" That would be social media I could get attached to!)

While Noah is fussy, it makes the sweet moments even sweeter. Noah has moved on from only sleeping in the crook of my arm to sleeping NEXT to me (it was a big deal) and I had moved him a little further away from me in an attempt to gradually get him to make it into the co-sleeper sometime in the next year. It had only been about 45 minutes since he last nursed when I heard stirring next to me. Picking Noah up, I realized that he felt a little cool and then he wasn't interested in nursing. Apparently, he was just cold. So, I nestled him back into the crook of my arm to get him warmed up and he made the most adorable little croon. It sounded almost like a kitten purr. And then he patted my face and promptly went back to sleep. It was the sweetest thing I've ever experienced at 5:18 am. I suspect that if he keep this sort of psychological warfare up, he'll make it to the co-sleeper in 2018.

I Just Want To Cry

I would really just like to sit and cry for about 20 minutes. I'm being slowly pecked to death by ducks; killed by a 1000 paper cuts; herding marauding turtles. Every time I think I am about to get it back together, the stomach flu hits, my husband leaves on a business trip, school is delayed for weather, Noah needs yet another well-baby check up or my dog needs me to place a warm compress on her anus for 10-15 minutes nightly (don't ask).

I have been at a baby weight plateau for a good 3 months now (baby is 4.5 months). While I know that I know the extra donut is helping no one, it doesn't seem possible that I can wake every morning famished yet somehow see the scale fluctuate between the same 3 numbers. Surely, by now, it should be coming off. I keep reminding myself that it came off with the other 2 with no obsessing on my part and I actually don't think it's coming off any more slowly this time. I suspect it's due to the fact that I gained so much less this time that there was just less that my body felt comfortable with shedding easily. I still keep having a nagging in my head that I am 33 this time and perhaps my metabolism just isn't what it was.

The dishes are a source of endless bafflement as well. If I skip running the dishwasher one night because there is so little in there we somehow make a bumper crop of dishes the next day and it takes me another 2-3 days before I'm properly caught up.

I keep having to remind myself that I am a grown up now regarding my social life. I keep telling myself that not everyone has to like me just like I don't actually like everyone else. But I still find myself wondering why that woman doesn't like me or that group doesn't invite me to their get togethers. I have my own friends, my own groups, my own groove but part of me is still that 14 year old who has no sense of self.

I am pretty sure my mom is going senile at a gradually increasing rate. On a purely selfish level, it puts me in a mild panic because I had counted on being able to turn to her for help with the children when my husband has to travel, etc, but she's starting to be at a point where that just isn't the best plan. She's not a danger to anyone but the stress she invokes in me is almost equal to the stress she takes off of me at this point.

I can't get my laundry put away in less than 3 days. This drives me nuts.

Noah has this massive scream-fest/fussithon every evening as well as being a bit on the touchy side all day. I think the main issue is that he's ready to go to sleep for the night around 6. However, he only sleeps while being held and only really hits the night time sort of sleep, laying next to me. So, in Noah's world, I should be going to be at 6 as well. Since that's less than practical, he cries while being rocked in a variety of venues. But, I'm still winding up trying to be in bed by 8:30 because that's still about 3 hours of screaming and it's about all we can take anyway. This has a lot to do with things like why I can't get the laundry done.

Noah is also still getting up every 1.5-3 hours to nurse. I'm sure it has to do with sleeping with me but as the alternative seems to be listening to hours of crying every night, it seems to be a wash. I'm sure the lack of consistent sleep isn't helping my mood or my weight.

Insanely, even with all this, I'm still mourning that this will be my last baby. I'm such a mess.

If it makes you feel better...

Sometimes I look at a woman who seems to have it all together and wonder if she ever has a bad moment. I have been told on a couple of occasions in the last few weeks that I am this wonderfully organized person who has it all together. Au contraire...

1- Yes, I got out of maternity clothes by 3 weeks post partum but I only fit 2 pairs of pants- one pair is far too long and the other had to have the crotch sewn up. I am SYLISH! I only fit 2 church outfits and both require me to wear heels and hose, sigh. I am hoping that I will be closer to my regular size by the time Noah is 12 weeks old and that I can hold out shopping until then. I have now personally witnessed 3 women who were back to their regular jeans, etc, by 6 weeks post partum. I am currently in talks with Jesus about how to temper my feelings towards them, thus far, the Holy Spirit has been unable to burn the un-Christian feelings from my heart.

2- Noah is 8 weeks old and has had 4 or perhaps 5 baths in his life. He's also pulled off getting not one, but two, colds.

3- I watched Sister Wives the other day and came to the conclusion that I think I would presently be ok with polygamy if it meant I would get a daily nap while my sister wives tended my children.

4- I do menu plan and write a grocery list but this is mostly to mask the fact that if left to my own devices at the grocery store our entire week's meals would consist of fage yogurt, s'mores, and whichever cheese Kroger was offering samples of when I went through. Even with menu planning, etc, my children eat, on average, 1 dinner I prepared per week. Once upon a time I was a spontaneous cook...

5- There has been more than one occasion in Noah's 2 short months with us when I honestly could not tell you when he had a- last nursed or b- had his diaper changed. As I tend to nurse him when he cries and cloth diapers leak after not a ridiculously long time, he is doing fine by default but with Charlie, I knew to within the 30 second when those had last happened.

6- We went to the library last Friday afternoon and stayed 20 minutes. We will not be forgotten soon. Megan had to poop not once, but TWICE, both times managing to interrupt just as I had gotten Noah latched so he cried at ear splitting volume, not once, but TWICE. Charlie toppled this rocking toy over on his head and required rescue (of course, just after I got Noah latched). When I cried "uncle" and took us home, Megan began running and jumping through the stacks (shouting "tada" every time she jumped), while waving her DVD over her head until I could explain that we couldn't take the DVD home if we didn't take it to the librarian. On our way out, Megan dropped all her books and threw a tantrum when I said I would carry them. Charlie wasn't paying attention and almost wandered out the main door until I hollered at a level less than conducive for reading and, of course, Noah was crying. The little old people were totally glaring at me.

7- I have been trying to write a "Works for Me Wednesday" post for 4 weeks and have yet to pull it off. Generally those posts are 1 paragraph or less...

Link

Sorry! I meant to link to Jo's blog and forgot. Here it is- also corrected in original post.

Never Look Back

Jo wrote this really fantastic post about wrestling with the decision of having more children. In addition to all the logistical and emotional wrangling there was also a really interesting twist involving how changing the punctuation of "No more, kids" several times can easily sum up the entire thought process.

I have had a lot of similar thoughts over the last month or two. My pregnancies are miserable. They are not dangerous or high risk to anyone, I don't find it especially challenging to become pregnant, the birth process is fairly straightforward and I recover as well and as quickly as could be expected but the pregnancy itself is a long, forced march through just about every really annoying pregnancy symptom What To Expect might put on offer. In short, if I really wanted to, I could easily pull a Dugger and pop out a healthy baby every 18 months or so but I wouldn't be all that pleasant to live with. By my 3rd month of pregnancy this last time, I vowed I would never do this again. But now, the fuzzy haze is descending and I keep wondering if we shouldn't have just one more baby (friends have assured me this is the best way to conceive far sooner than you planned and with twins to boot). I feel a twinge every time I know I will be seeing a first for the last time- Noah started smiling about a week ago. It's mostly at lights and fans but every once in a while I get a gummy grin as well. There is also the existential crisis of facing your mortality via leaving a stage of life behind if I close the door on childbearing.

I can see that things really do get a little easier once you get over the hump of 2 children. The learning curve with Charlie was hella steep. While Megan was a slightly easier baby, we didn't do ourselves any favors by spacing the children 20 months apart (a spacing I now adore but the first year is a humdinger). Noah shares a number of the characteristics of both children that made them challenging but we know a lot more strategies for coping with them now. Noah is generally happy only when being held. Since we've been doing this for a while, we now have 4 baby carriers and are well versed in their use. We gotten the hang of the evening baby handoff and I've learned how to do the essentials to keep the household running in the 1.5 hours I have to cram it all in (as well as anything I might need to do for myself).

We've hit the point in parenting where we simply do what works. Noah will only sleep at night if he is nestled into the crook of my neck so we co-sleep. There is no parenting philosophy or theory behind the decision beyond the fact that we have to be rested enough to care for two other children in the morning. Noah's eating habits are erratic. Sometimes he goes several hours and sometimes barely hits the hour mark. Happily, after nursing 2 other children my milk is plentiful, my let down fast, and my apprehension at nursing in public non-existent. I can adapt to what he needs much more easily than I could with Charlie, when I was chained to the couch for hours at a time and I'm inclined to simply feed him instead of worrying about hind milk and fore milk, which side we did last, etc. The important elements of breastfeeding are pretty automatic at this point and I know what needn't be worried about. In short, I can see how families with 5 and 6 children can add another child with minimal fuss. At the same time, I'm not sure I want to have 5 children simply because it will make the 6th so much easier!

I have this twisted logic that says that if I enjoy my children and motherhood in general so much; if I really loved children, I should just keep having them. After all, if I liked them so much and enjoyed things so much, why wouldn't I want MORE? I know that it doesn't actually work that way. I know that simply having more siblings doesn't make an automatic big, happy, Weasley family. I know that I have gotten to a point where, for me, with my particular quirks and foibles and my tendency to have the rather high maintenance (come by honestly!) children, 3 is probably my upper limit. I know that I do love them beyond reason, smile daily at the many wonderful little things that happen everyday and adore listening to their interactions. I know that I show my children that I do love them and motherhood and wiping tiny heinies by doing it, every day, every night, every week. I know that having another child would prove nothing other than that I apparently never want to sleep for 6 hours in a row again. I know that having another child would likely do the opposite of showing my current children how much I love them- I would be stretched slightly thinner, wound slightly tighter, have sightly less in my already slightly anemic store of patience. With another child, there would be yet another 6 months of no mommy cooking, another round of "not while I nurse/rock/bounce/soothe/cry with the baby," another round of maybe once I've managed to get a little sleep. I know that I can love my children and being their mother without always enjoying the nitty gritty. But, there is always a nagging in the back of my mind saying that "if I really loved them..."

I keep reminding myself that I never tend to like to look back. I had no significant wish to go to my high school or college reunions other than to fulfill passing curiosity. I look back on the passing of Charlie's infancy with nothing but relief. I seldom re-visit my home town. I'm one of those people who mostly likes to look ahead. I have various mementos and reminders but I appalled my mother in law by not saving baby teeth or first curls and I am a disaster at scrapbooking. I am making a conscious effort to spend more time experiencing the present and letting the future sort itself out. Having another baby would be many things but a big one would be clinging to a present that is quickly becoming a past and that just isn't the way I tend to operate. Once I've said "good bye," I prefer to quickly turn to the next thing. I hope I can remember that I can have an identity beyond my fertility. If I can just remember that there are no motherhood merit badges. I hope I can simply remind myself that I don't need to prove to anyone that I love my children. I hope I can simply remember all this the next time I think "No more kids?"

Babies Are Well Designed

Noah arrived August 1st at 6:34 am. He weighed 7 pounds, 9.5 ounces and was 20 inches long.

It's a good thing babies are so squishy. It makes holding them for 23 hours a day much more pleasant.

It's a good thing I got used to carrying around a bunch of extra weight when I was pregnant, it makes the extra 10 pounds I carry most of the day that much easier and this 10 pounds is way cuter.

It's a good thing babies heads are so downy and their cheeks so soft. It makes having them sleep tucked in under your chin feel pleasant even when your shoulder goes numb.

It's a good thing babies don't know what a lullabye is so I can sign "Dream On" ala Glee when I get tired of the standard stuff.

It's a good thing I held on to a little baby weight. I can think about all the calories I'm burning when up for the 4th nursing session of the night.

It's a good thing babies have such sweet breath. It makes the 45 minute crying sessions that much easier to manage.

It's a good thing baby heinies are so cute. I sure get to see it an awful lot- this child is a pooping machine!

It's a good thing pregnancy left me so squishy. My tummy is now an excellent place to lie on while "off gassing."

It's a good thing the only move Noah has is to work his way upward while searching for something to latch on to. If you only get one move, the one that gets you to the mama milk is a good one to have.

It's a good thing babies cry so loudly. It's helpful to have my milk let down before Daddy has even made it up the stairs with Noah for our next nursing session.

A Difference in Perspective

I had to go on a bunch of errands yesterday morning. I had glorious free morning and each was the sort of thing that was fairly quick to do without children in tow but take ages when also trying to wrangle. Or, at least I thought. I had the absolute worst luck at every store- photo kiosks were broken, delivery trucks delayed, stores short staffed, and on and on. This gave me a lot of time in which I stood around waiting with other customers, for whatever reason they all tended to be women of a certain age who all wanted to know about when I was due. To each I gave my standard answer of "August," occasionally qualifying it with an "early." The answers varied but all were permutations of "You must be so hot," "I bet it can't come soon enough," and "You still have a ways to go, then, huh?" To each I wanted to answer "Are you out of your mind?"

I have been hot since March. Dressing the children in weather appropriate clothing was a constant struggle this spring as I had to keep reminding myself that 55' is not actually short sleeve weather for the rest of the world. The fact that summer is hotter than spring means little to me and, as I keep pointing out, we do live in an age of air conditioning and freely available cool water.

In regards to the baby's impeding arrival, I have been solidly fixed in the mental state of vague impending doom for the last month, at the least. I have 6 weeks or so left and I need every bit of that time to have any hope of being ready for his arrival. The nursery is in the middle of being remodeled. While a good hunk of it is done, it is still far from habitable and I know from experience that if it's not done by the time the baby gets here, it will next be worked on when the baby is 16 months old. Take out is not a terribly viable option with my gestational diabetes so I've been doing a vast amount of cooking for our day to day life. Since I'm still experimenting with just how many carbs I can eat, cooking ahead is not really an option. Add in that the heavy emphasis on meat, dairy and nuts and the grocery budget has little wiggle room. This means the freezer stocking that I tend to start by now, hasn't happened. I have yet to go through fall clothing for the children to see what needs to be bought, hitting the August back to school sales will be a challenge this year. Nor have I gone through our newborn clothes to see if Noah will have anything clean to wear. As far as I'm concerned, this baby is coming any minute and I'm woefully ill prepared.

I have developed a powerful nesting instinct this go around that I'm trying to take advantage of. I have a theory that while there is something to the idea of the nesting thing, it's also the end result of your body slowly going completely out of your control. While there are definite evolutionary advantages to women wanting to get things in order shortly before a baby arrives, it seems like there is also a very real element of control as well. Not only is your body doing things that it never does otherwise, you know that you have the impending arrival of this unknown permanent house guest whom you will be expected to care for and keep alive and LIKE for the next indeterminate number of years. You generally don't know quite when he will arrive, what sort of things he likes to do, how he will sleep, etc, etc. And so, if I can't get a handle on anything else, I can at least corral my baking supplies. So far, I have rearranged kitchen cabinets, bathroom closets, the Y has received a steady stream of donations, pictures are being hung, and lists are being made. If I just keep finding new projects to do, I can ignore the fact that I have a body in rebellion, that I have desperate desire to eat the completely out of the question french toast with syrup, and that I have this mild sense of panic about just what I decided to get myself into 33 weeks ago.

So...

a- baby is a boy and seems to be growing nicely

b- we pretty sure he'll be named Noah

c- for 5 minutes one morning, I was in domestic bliss. Charlie and Megan were "working together" on a floor puzzle while I packed us a picnic lunch for later in the day. Working together mostly consisted of Megan helpfully saying "here you go" while handing Charlie random puzzle pieces only to follow it up with "that don't go there." But, they were happy and I got to experience one of those lovely mommy moments with wiped counter tops and a clean sink to boot!

d- I got some of this whipped sugar scrub and it's a little slice of heaven for your skin. I use it on my face once a day and it does a wonderful job exfoliating and cleansing without irritating although I have found I have to follow up with moisturizer no matter what as the slow march of time carries on. Her products are are paraben and pthalate free- I emailed to check.

e- I am very pleased to report that both children seem to be mostly sleeping through the night or at least getting within spitting distance. While there are periodic cries for re-tucking or reassurance or comfort for the pain of teething, we seem to be past the worst of the extended night wakings- of course, we're about to start it all over again, sigh... But, it's been coupled with Megan taking up to 2 hours to wind down for the night- not crying, just having a party in her crib. While she was welcome to sing, dance, tuck her bear in, re-tell various nursery rhymes, etc when she was in her own room, we moved her in with Charlie a few weeks back to do some light remodeling that really Must Be Done before baby 3, in the 2nd nursery where she was sleeping. Namely, we would like the 2nd nursery to actually look like a nursery rather than a guest room with a crib shoved in it. So, either my husband or I have been stuck in the 1st nursery shushing and rocking and patting and slowly losing our minds each evening. I'm hoping this will pass soon but am not holding my breath. But, it sure beats a 2 hour cryfest at 3 am.

f- Megan only wants to wear big girl underwear to bed. This present a bevy of problems and helps not at all with potty training. I was assured it was easier with a girl but I am beginning to have my doubt. First, we had some basic plumbing confusion. For a while, Megan was fond of telling us her "penis was empty" when she didn't have to use the bathroom. We finally got her to switch over to telling us the state of her bladder instead but now one of her favorite jokes is to announce the barren nature of her penis only to follow with "I don't have a penis" accompanied by much laughter. While I, of course, find this charming beyond measure, it took a bit of explaining to Miss Judy when she tried it at Mother's Day Out.

g- I am pretty sure this is our last baby. I had been a bit on the fence even though my husband was sure. My pregnancies are far from perilous but I'm not exactly glowing throughout. I tend to actively manage morning sickness from week 6-18 or so and then still feel quite iffy through week 24. In addition, I always have some sort of one-off difficulty- dislocating my hips, throwing out my back, a lovely week or two with Megan's pregnancy when my immune system completely gave up and I had some sort of weird fever blister things all over my mouth, pink eye AND a nasty cold. With this pregnancy, I acquired a rescue inhaler because apparently my lungs had just had enough with the very long, very dry winter abruptly followed by April, May and June all occurring in 1 week resulting in a pollen season like no other. Finally, last week I failed my gestational diabetes screening test.

We pulled out all the stops with this pregnancy. My husband cut back on his travel so he would be around to support me. I cooked like a fiend in the month before the pregnancy so we would have a stocked fridge. Both children are in care 2 mornings a week to give me a break (mostly used for napping in the first hunk of pregnancy). I went on morning sickness medication as soon as practical, etc, etc, etc. But this has still been a slog with the gestational diabetes simply the icing on the cake. Plus, my children don't tend to sleep at all well until they are are least 2 and I don't really count on much until 3. So, I feel like Charlie's main experiences with me thus far revolve mostly around me falling in an exhausted, queasy heap on the couch. I think we've limped through well enough that he still seems to be a happy child with adequate stimulation and whatnot but I would like to be able to do more than an adequate job. I want to bake cookies, run around, or simply stay awake now that he's old enough to really appreciate that sort of thing.

I think a lot of the driving force behind me wanting to have several children (I had been thinking 4) was that I wanted to provide my children with what I didn't have- a sense of home family. I want them to have that soft place to land, a tribe to call upon in time of need, back-up when you're over your head or just want to go to the movies, somewhere you actually want to be when Thanksgiving rolls around. But, I finally came to the conclusion that I could have 10 children who all dislike one another or I could have 2 that adore one another. Adding more children to the equation doesn't actually equal a family. I am glad we decided to have a 3rd baby and I think if my pregnancies had been a touch easier, I would have liked to have had more but, for now, I want to focus on helping nurture and grow the family I have and I think I can do that a lot better if I don't spend quite so much time in an exhausted stupor.

Totally Shallow

1- The other day I noticed that Megan has tell tale cottage cheesy-ness on her upper thighs. I decided that my perfect little 20 month old could not possibly be suffering from any beauty ailments as of yet. Hence, I've decided that cellulite is simply a part of life and to waste no further time worrying about eliminating it.

2- Over the last 4 years I have spent roughly a year puking or variations on that theme. Add an additional 3-6 months of nausea and general ill will towards most foods. I do have 2 and a third beautiful children as a result. However, it seems like I should really have abs of steel and nary a smidge of extra weight. This is really not the case.

3- I am at the annoying pudgy stage of pregnancy.

4- I discovered during my celebratory past-the-first-trimester hair dying that I now posses "resistant gray." (The general consensus seems to be that hair dye doesn't pose any significant risk to developing babies. Preferably, you should get highlights since they have less contact with the scalp but I had to settle for Natural Instincts with the thought that a complete lack of permanence, ammonia, or bleach had to be worth something.)

5- The cold weather combined with pregnancy induced dry skin, has my hands looking less than lovely.

6- I can't tell you how beautiful I feel with the combined effects of 2, 3, 4, 5. Glowing, I tell you, I am glowing!

7- In other third pregnancy news...
7a- I totally ate some brie when another pregnant lady pointed out to me that it was made from pasteurized milk

7b- I have eaten eggs with somewhat runny yolks twice now on the basic assumption that if one's morning sickness is as overenthusiastic as mine, if it was really all that bad for me, I wouldn't be able to even look at it.

8- I do have a theory concerning my morning sickness which makes me feel slightly more philosophical about it. I am apparently ill designed for actually getting babies out although reasonably good at growing them. Frankly, had I been born then or there instead of here and now, I likely would have died in childbirth or, at the very least, lost my babies, had all else been equal. However, somehow these genes managed to make it to me so somehow a woman managed to give birth with my structural quirks. I think extended morning sickness (as well as releasing enough relaxin to inadvertently dislocate your hips) is the answer. Had I not had the advantage of abundant nutrition pre-pregnancy and then the advantages of gatorade, modern medicine and Ben and Jerry's milkshakes, I would likely have gained rather significantly less during pregnancy and, hence, never managed to grow a 9 pound baby. At the same time, I was never sick enough to seriously endanger the child or myself- miserable, yes, hospitalized, no. Between this natural weight limitation and the excessive mobility of my joints, had I been born then or there rather than here and now, there is a good change I would, in fact, have managed to survive childbirth and pass along my somewhat questionable genetic viability.

9- We live far enough south that sweet tea is generally offered and magnolias are a part of the scenery. But, we live at a high enough elevation that snow boots are not an uncommon acquisition and Target stocks snow pants. We have some plows and the school districts build in some snow days. HOWEVER, we are on our 3rd (or maybe 4th?) major winter weather event of the season. Our snowfall for the year will soon be measured in yards rather than inches. I am about to go nucking futz! The children and I are seriously starting to not enjoy one another. We all have colds to varying degrees. I worry the couch will never recover from the amount of snow Penny has allowed to melt on it and that the children will develop rickets from the extended lack of sun. Of course, on deck for today is "light icing" and they are calling for more snow on Friday. I am considering if I would rather we move to South Carolina or South Texas. Thoughts?

My Biggest Parenting Challenge

So, I read this blog and they posted asking what the readers biggest parenting challenges are in an effort to address reader needs. It started me thinking and the thing is that my biggest parenting challenge has very little to do with the mechanics and logistics of parenting and a lot to do simply with how I interact with the world in general. While Megan's fledgling violent streak and Charlie's penchant for drama are cause for some extra parenting cognition, the thing that challenges me most as a parent is me. Specifically, I tend to get overstimulated somewhat easily. While I am completely fine in an office setting and even cope reasonably well in a classroom setting, being a SAHM is challenging for me when you consider my children and their ages. Both are talkers. Both were EARLY talkers. Both are high needs in their own way. Both are cuddlers and touchers. Both are going to be in fairly high physical need stages of life for at least a few more years and there is another on the way. My life is filled with a constant background of chatter, singing, Charlie's many, many sound effects (he recently perfected his helicopter noise- the joy!), questions, requests, demands, and other joyful noises. Thankfully, neither child is in a particularly whiny stage at the moment.

Before the added demands of pregnancy, I would say that I reached my saturation limit around 3 pm assuming Megan could be coaxed into taking a decent nap and Charlie agreed to sit quietly and watch a couple of shows during rest time. But, I still tended to eat dinner by myself, upstairs. The added cacophony of "Where's my cup?" "I dropped my spoon," and "More!!!" that comes with meal time being simply beyond me. When I would eat with the family, I would often be snappish and my husband would often suggest that I might prefer to eat upstairs anyway. With the added demands of pregnancy, I peter out at about 11, Megan's nap is slowly fading away and Charlie is on some sort of restfulness strike filling rest time with chatter and fidgets. So, I am left with an even more urgent need to figure out how to balance the very legitimate if exuberant needs of two young children with my very real need to have a few moments of peace. Right now, I have been known to put on a show, give the children snacks and drinks and then steal out into the hall for a few minutes of silence. Both children are in care two mornings a week which was quite helpful until we ran into the Christmas break, quickly followed by snow, ice, and a mysterious 3 day long "winter break" which was less than 3 weeks after the end of Christmas break. My husband modified his schedule so he goes in early but is also home by about 4 which is when I need him most. But, of course, none of these are perfect. At this point, I am mostly hoping that the occasions when I do start to crack are outweighed by the many occasions on which I don't.