Happy
Baby
Two words that should go together, that do go together.
Yesterday, Luna fussed a tiny bit in order to get into my lap but then asked, "Mama, you happy?"
I said, "Yes I'm happy. Are you happy, Luna?"
"No, I no happy. I baby."
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sometimes I'm a little...
...anal.
Once upon a time when I was a teenager, one would hear me yell at my mom, "Why do you even care if my room is clean or not?!" or "What are you, the clean room police?!" or "Why does it matter if my room is not clean? It's not like you are going to hang out in there with your friends."
My mom just wanted to keep a clean house. And she did. Every room in our house was clean and tidy all the time except for my room.
If you think this is the party of the story where I admit that I am now my mother and my house is clean and tidy and it's driving me nuts that my kids' rooms are always a mess....hahahahahahahahahahaha!
Whew, I had to catch my breath there for a minute. That's funny, you thought that.
No, that has not happened. But, I am finding myself much more anal about certain things. What is that? A maturity thing? A mom thing? I think it's an exhausted mom thing.
Once upon a time, I had a friend with 1 1/2 kids while I had only one. Not that I would ever say it, but now 7 kids later between us, she admitted that she was a little anal at the beginning of her motherhood journey in regards to the sandbox. Again, her words, not mine, "I used to only get the expensive sand and made sure it stayed in the sandbox and now I'm like whatever."
I remember relishing in the fact that I was so non-anal regarding the sandbox and my only child. I even told my husband once that I liked the feel of sand on the floor of the house. It made me think of my childhood when we would rent that little a-frame cabin on the beach in Door County. My husband totally agreed! (okay, I'll admit that dialogue was code for "we're okay with the house being trashed all the time and sandy, right?")
So when my friend admitted that she had once been anal about her sandbox, but not so much anymore, it made me realize that I have become anal about our sandbox.
1. Cheap sand stains and ruins shirts. Buying new shirts is expensive.
2. Expensive sand is expensive (but it won't ruin clothes).
3. Expensive sand needs to STAY IN THE SANDBOX because buying new expensive sand is expensive.
4. Three kids are SO much sandier than one.
5. No matter how much you trick yourself into believing that a sandy bed is so, vacationesque, you have to clean it up sooner or later.
6. Same thing with the floors.
About to clean the floors? Re-read number 4 and then ask yourself what you can do to improve the situation. The answer is - get anal about the sandbox.
I didn't like this about myself. I mean, I guess I would prefer that our house and yard wasn't in a continuous state of clutter but I'm just not the model-home type of mom-housewife. Neither is my husband.
So I made a conscious choice to relax about the sandbox this past summer. Here's how it went down. One day, a friend and Tulip decided to put mud in the sandbox. I tried to nip it right away. There was some of that expensive sand in there! I said, "It's a sandbox and not a mudbox." But then I did my personal particular type of parenting where I realize that a mess means fun, and I want my daughter to use her hands, I want her to interact with nature, I want to foster her creativity, and we are not girly girls afraid of getting dirt on our clothes, hands, whatever. So the next time, I let it go. And believe you me, it went and went and went.
Summer vacation ended and we ended up covering the mudbox for a few weeks once school started and we had to acclimate to our new life and our shift went from swimming in the pool and playing in the sandbox in the backyard to drawing with chalk on the driveway and riding bikes around the court after school.
Then it got really really warm, right? And someone opened the sandbox and Holy Terrarium! it was gross in there. There was a green film over every square inch of sand. Lots of critters. And a moist heat. Blech!
We scrubbed, had a family meeting, bought new sand, and implemented the new-again family rule of no dirt in the sandbox. This evening, when I went out in the yard to cover the sandbox for the night, I discovered that some sweet little girls decorated a mound of sand with some grass blades and a few limp dandelions. I meticulously picked them out one by one. Yes, I'm anal again because scrubbing that sandbox was exhausting and I haven't yet decided which is more a waste of my precious time: picking out blades of grass or cleaning my house.
Once upon a time when I was a teenager, one would hear me yell at my mom, "Why do you even care if my room is clean or not?!" or "What are you, the clean room police?!" or "Why does it matter if my room is not clean? It's not like you are going to hang out in there with your friends."
My mom just wanted to keep a clean house. And she did. Every room in our house was clean and tidy all the time except for my room.
If you think this is the party of the story where I admit that I am now my mother and my house is clean and tidy and it's driving me nuts that my kids' rooms are always a mess....hahahahahahahahahahaha!
Whew, I had to catch my breath there for a minute. That's funny, you thought that.
No, that has not happened. But, I am finding myself much more anal about certain things. What is that? A maturity thing? A mom thing? I think it's an exhausted mom thing.
Once upon a time, I had a friend with 1 1/2 kids while I had only one. Not that I would ever say it, but now 7 kids later between us, she admitted that she was a little anal at the beginning of her motherhood journey in regards to the sandbox. Again, her words, not mine, "I used to only get the expensive sand and made sure it stayed in the sandbox and now I'm like whatever."
I remember relishing in the fact that I was so non-anal regarding the sandbox and my only child. I even told my husband once that I liked the feel of sand on the floor of the house. It made me think of my childhood when we would rent that little a-frame cabin on the beach in Door County. My husband totally agreed! (okay, I'll admit that dialogue was code for "we're okay with the house being trashed all the time and sandy, right?")
So when my friend admitted that she had once been anal about her sandbox, but not so much anymore, it made me realize that I have become anal about our sandbox.
1. Cheap sand stains and ruins shirts. Buying new shirts is expensive.
2. Expensive sand is expensive (but it won't ruin clothes).
3. Expensive sand needs to STAY IN THE SANDBOX because buying new expensive sand is expensive.
4. Three kids are SO much sandier than one.
5. No matter how much you trick yourself into believing that a sandy bed is so, vacationesque, you have to clean it up sooner or later.
6. Same thing with the floors.
About to clean the floors? Re-read number 4 and then ask yourself what you can do to improve the situation. The answer is - get anal about the sandbox.
I didn't like this about myself. I mean, I guess I would prefer that our house and yard wasn't in a continuous state of clutter but I'm just not the model-home type of mom-housewife. Neither is my husband.
So I made a conscious choice to relax about the sandbox this past summer. Here's how it went down. One day, a friend and Tulip decided to put mud in the sandbox. I tried to nip it right away. There was some of that expensive sand in there! I said, "It's a sandbox and not a mudbox." But then I did my personal particular type of parenting where I realize that a mess means fun, and I want my daughter to use her hands, I want her to interact with nature, I want to foster her creativity, and we are not girly girls afraid of getting dirt on our clothes, hands, whatever. So the next time, I let it go. And believe you me, it went and went and went.
Summer vacation ended and we ended up covering the mudbox for a few weeks once school started and we had to acclimate to our new life and our shift went from swimming in the pool and playing in the sandbox in the backyard to drawing with chalk on the driveway and riding bikes around the court after school.
Then it got really really warm, right? And someone opened the sandbox and Holy Terrarium! it was gross in there. There was a green film over every square inch of sand. Lots of critters. And a moist heat. Blech!
We scrubbed, had a family meeting, bought new sand, and implemented the new-again family rule of no dirt in the sandbox. This evening, when I went out in the yard to cover the sandbox for the night, I discovered that some sweet little girls decorated a mound of sand with some grass blades and a few limp dandelions. I meticulously picked them out one by one. Yes, I'm anal again because scrubbing that sandbox was exhausting and I haven't yet decided which is more a waste of my precious time: picking out blades of grass or cleaning my house.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Funny girl
This morning's breakfast conversation:
Tulip: Mama, I had something stuck in my nose but now it's out.
Mama: Oh, that's good.
Tulip: Yeah, I kept sniffing and sniffing it out.
Mama: Oh.
Tulip: It was an onion.
(I guess I wasn't reacting as strongly to her statement as she wished)
Sunday, we were at Menards and all the Christmas stuff is on display. I guess if you are four it really does look magical and winter wonderlandy with all those illuminated trees and lawn decorations. We passed a nativity scene, just Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus, and Tulip said...and I quote..."Mama, I bet this reminds you of when you got married."
Tulip: Mama, I had something stuck in my nose but now it's out.
Mama: Oh, that's good.
Tulip: Yeah, I kept sniffing and sniffing it out.
Mama: Oh.
Tulip: It was an onion.
(I guess I wasn't reacting as strongly to her statement as she wished)
Sunday, we were at Menards and all the Christmas stuff is on display. I guess if you are four it really does look magical and winter wonderlandy with all those illuminated trees and lawn decorations. We passed a nativity scene, just Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus, and Tulip said...and I quote..."Mama, I bet this reminds you of when you got married."
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Big and Warm
We're raking leaves.
Making a pile.
Jumping, of course.
Look out - here comes a cute blue baby dinosaur.
Wolfie announced, "I want to take the training wheels off my bike."
We forgot to do that this summer.
How can five types of happy all happen at the same time? Today was a great day.
Friday, October 7, 2011
I've Done This
I've used the remote control for the baby's electric song-playing, twirling mobile so I wouldn't have to get off the couch.
A few points to clarify:
1) I'm not a typical couch potato.
2) Someone gave us this mobile as a shower gift when I was first pregnant with Wolfie. You know how you used everything anyone ever gave you for that first baby? I mean, if I had been given the electric wipes warmer I would have used that too before I learned better.
3) The mobile played for 15 solid minutes.
4) Baby Wolfie loved it.
5) In our small four-room condo, from the couch, I had just enough of a line of fire into the nursery to be able to activate the mobile via remote.
6) I only used the remote one time per session - after the first 15 minutes in order to activate the second round of 15 minutes.
7) This technique allowed for me to be interrupted only once during a 30 minute nap.
8) Please, please, re-read #7.
What toy, gizmo, novelty do you ashamedly admit to owning and using?
A few points to clarify:
1) I'm not a typical couch potato.
2) Someone gave us this mobile as a shower gift when I was first pregnant with Wolfie. You know how you used everything anyone ever gave you for that first baby? I mean, if I had been given the electric wipes warmer I would have used that too before I learned better.
3) The mobile played for 15 solid minutes.
4) Baby Wolfie loved it.
5) In our small four-room condo, from the couch, I had just enough of a line of fire into the nursery to be able to activate the mobile via remote.
6) I only used the remote one time per session - after the first 15 minutes in order to activate the second round of 15 minutes.
7) This technique allowed for me to be interrupted only once during a 30 minute nap.
8) Please, please, re-read #7.
What toy, gizmo, novelty do you ashamedly admit to owning and using?
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
pull, not push
We played outside this afternoon and sooner or later everyone split up. Our neighbor has a swing set in their backyard on which my children are allowed to play "any time".
Wolfie wanted to play badminton with me, and Luna and Tulip were climbing and sliding and it was so great to see Tulip being such a big sister because I didn't have that as a child.
I even heard her say to Luna, "Mama's not here so I am in charge of you." Okay. I guess that's how it goes.
But she started crying and I thought she got kicked in the face or something so I went to see what was the matter. She was frustrated. Really really frustrated. She wanted Luna to sit on her lap and go down the slide together but Luna wouldn't do it. I told her that she couldn't make Luna do something she didn't want to do and, I'm telling you, Tulip kind of stomped her feet and kind of howled that cry she sometimes does when she wakes up in the middle of the night and is inconsolable and it doesn't make any sense to us because we have no idea what could be so upsetting to her but she is just in it. That low guttural cry that sort of sounds like "oh" or "no".
We repeated this dialogue a few more times and that foot stomping caught me so off guard because, I'm telling you again, that is just not like Tulip. I was about to discipline her - something along the lines of saying, "I don't like the way you are behaving. Maybe you should sit on your bed until you are in a better mood..." but I decided to embrace the moment instead.
My friend Mindy, who is one of the most intuitive mothers I know, once said, "Whenever I have the urge to push my child away, I realize that what she needs most is an embrace."
Oh, poor poor Tulip. I just don't know what it's like to be a middle child. Is this what it's like? Given the opportunity to be the big sister instead of the younger sister, to be "in charge" of the baby that it becomes such a drive to create a scene where the baby does exactly what you say and you get to direct all the play? And when it doesn't go your way? Frustration. Disappointment. Isn't Wolfie usually in charge, just because he's bigger, older, and can initiate the games and assign the roles faster and Tulip is just so agreeable and delighted to play that she goes along with everything. And here was her "in charge" moment and that Luna was just not cooperating.
I'll hold you Tulip. You bet. Even if you are stompy because I just don't know what else you need, sweetheart.
Wolfie wanted to play badminton with me, and Luna and Tulip were climbing and sliding and it was so great to see Tulip being such a big sister because I didn't have that as a child.
I even heard her say to Luna, "Mama's not here so I am in charge of you." Okay. I guess that's how it goes.
But she started crying and I thought she got kicked in the face or something so I went to see what was the matter. She was frustrated. Really really frustrated. She wanted Luna to sit on her lap and go down the slide together but Luna wouldn't do it. I told her that she couldn't make Luna do something she didn't want to do and, I'm telling you, Tulip kind of stomped her feet and kind of howled that cry she sometimes does when she wakes up in the middle of the night and is inconsolable and it doesn't make any sense to us because we have no idea what could be so upsetting to her but she is just in it. That low guttural cry that sort of sounds like "oh" or "no".
We repeated this dialogue a few more times and that foot stomping caught me so off guard because, I'm telling you again, that is just not like Tulip. I was about to discipline her - something along the lines of saying, "I don't like the way you are behaving. Maybe you should sit on your bed until you are in a better mood..." but I decided to embrace the moment instead.
My friend Mindy, who is one of the most intuitive mothers I know, once said, "Whenever I have the urge to push my child away, I realize that what she needs most is an embrace."
Oh, poor poor Tulip. I just don't know what it's like to be a middle child. Is this what it's like? Given the opportunity to be the big sister instead of the younger sister, to be "in charge" of the baby that it becomes such a drive to create a scene where the baby does exactly what you say and you get to direct all the play? And when it doesn't go your way? Frustration. Disappointment. Isn't Wolfie usually in charge, just because he's bigger, older, and can initiate the games and assign the roles faster and Tulip is just so agreeable and delighted to play that she goes along with everything. And here was her "in charge" moment and that Luna was just not cooperating.
I'll hold you Tulip. You bet. Even if you are stompy because I just don't know what else you need, sweetheart.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Sarcasm is generally lost on a two-year old.
It was one of those mornings...a rough going morning. Following a rough night. The kind of night where I stayed up a little too late to begin with and then the baby visited me and I had to carry her back to bed which is getting to be more and more of a chore because, well who are we kidding, she's not much of a baby anymore. And my back was feeling a little too tender from some other sort of carrying-the-baby-the-wrong-way event from earlier in the day. And so I tried to sleep on the couch where it was, ahem, quieter (and that's all I'm going to say about my bed-partner) and softer and so it felt nice for my back even though I'm not sure how my chiropractor feels about that but I was able to do that thing where I put the pillows between my knees and under my chest and I get to sleep on my side but with my back leaning against the couch cushions. Until the baby found me again and replaced my chest pillow with herself and then Tulip found me later and actually said all sleep-walk like, "It's okay Mama, there's room for me over there" and got in the space between my bent knees and the couch so that I could not stretch my legs out which is what my little too tender back needs sometimes but what my daughters obviously needed more was to cuddle Mama at 4:00 in the morning. Again.
So it was the kind of morning that follows that kind of night.
And our plan was to go to the apple orchard after breakfast and then to the outlet mall to get new jackets for the kids after that.
And I ridiculously thought I could crawl back into my own bed for a quick power nap after breakfast and before we left for the orchard. This sort of behavior on my part seems to be an invitation for the children to pester me. It is as if the rule is: When you see Mama is tired, and is trying to sneak a nap, you must pester her relentlessly. And they are so good at that. They are just delightful pesterers. My husband is giggling. Tulip said, "How long are you going to stay in bed because I'm really worried about you not being out here." Oh brother. Worried? She has never expressed that emotion or said that word ever. Where did she learn that? Who signed her up for soap opera school? How can I nap when I'm giggling too? Who do I think I am anyway trying to nap when we have an orchard to go to?
And so we're getting dressed and Luna puts on a tank top and tulle skirt. She hasn't learned seasons yet. Then Tulip is helping her put on some boots. Nice sistering, Tulip, but I still have to take off those boots to put a diaper and some leggings on her. Gabe tries to help but Luna is in some sort of "I want Mama to do it" phase. So there's that too.
Gabe helps by announcing, "I'm getting in the van" which mobilizes everyone into action. Shoes, check. Jackets, check. I have to remind everyone to pee before getting in the van which sabotages Gabe's directive by making the children retreat back into the house. Going pee turns into some great big thing with Luna.
And it's time to go.
And I realize that I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in.
Luna says, "Let's go, Mama."
I said, probably a little too loudly, probably like I wanted everyone to hear, "Mama is still in her pajamas. Mama is not ready to go. Maybe if everyone could give Mama a break, I would be ready to go. I guess you want me to stay home."
"Oh," Luna says, nonchalantly walking away, as if this were fact and joins her father and siblings at the door, and announces to the waiting crowd, "Mama stay home."
So it was the kind of morning that follows that kind of night.
And our plan was to go to the apple orchard after breakfast and then to the outlet mall to get new jackets for the kids after that.
And I ridiculously thought I could crawl back into my own bed for a quick power nap after breakfast and before we left for the orchard. This sort of behavior on my part seems to be an invitation for the children to pester me. It is as if the rule is: When you see Mama is tired, and is trying to sneak a nap, you must pester her relentlessly. And they are so good at that. They are just delightful pesterers. My husband is giggling. Tulip said, "How long are you going to stay in bed because I'm really worried about you not being out here." Oh brother. Worried? She has never expressed that emotion or said that word ever. Where did she learn that? Who signed her up for soap opera school? How can I nap when I'm giggling too? Who do I think I am anyway trying to nap when we have an orchard to go to?
And so we're getting dressed and Luna puts on a tank top and tulle skirt. She hasn't learned seasons yet. Then Tulip is helping her put on some boots. Nice sistering, Tulip, but I still have to take off those boots to put a diaper and some leggings on her. Gabe tries to help but Luna is in some sort of "I want Mama to do it" phase. So there's that too.
Gabe helps by announcing, "I'm getting in the van" which mobilizes everyone into action. Shoes, check. Jackets, check. I have to remind everyone to pee before getting in the van which sabotages Gabe's directive by making the children retreat back into the house. Going pee turns into some great big thing with Luna.
And it's time to go.
And I realize that I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in.
Luna says, "Let's go, Mama."
I said, probably a little too loudly, probably like I wanted everyone to hear, "Mama is still in her pajamas. Mama is not ready to go. Maybe if everyone could give Mama a break, I would be ready to go. I guess you want me to stay home."
"Oh," Luna says, nonchalantly walking away, as if this were fact and joins her father and siblings at the door, and announces to the waiting crowd, "Mama stay home."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)