Don't let those sweet faces fool you

I've been searching for a new sitter since December, and I think I'm close to finding one.  I had an excellent phone interview with someone a few days ago and I'll be meeting her in person this afternoon.  I got off the call and said to Thom, "I love her.  She seems perfect. Please, God, I hope she's the one."  Can you hear the desperation? If she doesn't show up with a hook for a hand and a bag of dead puppies, it should be a lock.

Without any help this past month, I've been basically surviving the daily grind.  No time for sewing, no time for blogging, and without a date night with Thom to remind me I'm more than a mommy machine, I'm kind of going crazy. I've had more than few days of feeling ready to be strapped down in a padded room, but the end is in sight.  I thought I would enjoy my solo time with the kids a bit more, but this past month has brought some insane developmental changes in Lila and a whole new round of monstrous testing and tantrums from River.  So what I thought might be leisurely days at the library or playing dress-up have turned into nearly non-stop screaming matches with a 3 year old broken only by the occasional trek through the house to picking up EVERY. SINGLE. ITEM. pulled from our drawers, cabinets, and shelves by Lila.

So if you've noticed an absence here in Summerland, now you know why.  Hopefully, my sanity and I can make an appearance again soon.

I'm kind of a horrible mom

*Seriously minor Toy Story 3 spoiler in here, FYI*

River has had such a growing love for dinosaurs lately and I've been feeding that obsession whenever possible. There are some great books out there with detailed pictures of what dinosaurs might have looked like when they roamed the earth, and there are some educational shows (like Dinosaur Train - Seriously, who was the marketing genius that came up with that one?) that he can watch to see dinos in action. But they're cartoonie, (and unrealistic if we're being picky - that T-Rex, Buddy, would have ripped his adoptive Pteranodon family to shreds in the real world). Finding a source for real-looking live-action dinosaurs was proving difficult. Finally, on a whim Thom bought Jurassic Park, thinking River could watch some of the more mild, non-T-Rex-eating-that-dude-on-the-toilet scenes. But tonight, faced with no other good options for a fun Friday night family movie we decided to just run the whole thing and see what happened.

My kid is wacko.

He screamed more in Toy Story 3 than he did watching Jurassic Park. Buzz Lightyear gets reprogrammed? AAAAAAAHHH! T-Rex munches on some lawyer? Awesome.

Now, he did get scared, but it wasn't the out of control "Turn it off! Turn it off!" scared some other movies have inspired (like Bee Movie. Bee. Movie. That kid's sense of terror is completely twisted.) In fact, he offered to "protect" me when I was too scared to watch the scene with the Velociraptors in the kitchen.

I think he was just so thrilled to finally see real-looking dinosaurs in action, he didn't care who they were eating. Since we watched to whole movie, the start of bedtime was a bit late, and wired up as he was from finally seeing his favorite creatures in the whole world alive(!) he did not go down easily. Shortly after I gave him his last hug he came out of his room with the excuse that he needed to pee. Two minutes of stalling later - and no pee - he was back in his room. Then, he came up the stairs with both of his bears and his water and sat on the top step saying he couldn't sleep. He wanted someone to come play with him.

Being the awesomely-engaged parents we are, Thom and I ignored him and continued to putter on our computers. I figured he'd get bored sitting there with no one to talk to and head back to bed. He gave a few more half-hearted attempts to get our attention, but we didn't respond. When he had been quiet for about five minutes I looked over and saw this:

I carried him downstairs to his bed and he didn't stir. I sure hope he's having sweet dino dreams (and not the kind that will have him in our bed at 2am).

River News: 3 years

Dear River,

These days whenever someone asks you how old you are, you hold up your fingers and say, "I turned three for my birthday in Las Vegas. It's a LONG way away so you have to take a plane." Your birthday was over two months ago, but the memory of that trip is burned into your brain still. I am both thrilled and terrified that you are at an age where you will start forming permanent memories. Up until now there was a reasonable expectation that most of the stupid mistakes I've made as a parent at least wouldn't scar you for life. No more.


You are so sharp and your ability to remember the minutest detail boggles my mind. That Las Vegas trip, for instance, still inspires you to talk about the hiking you did "in Red Rock with cousin Sydney" or "swimming in the pool at Oma's house." You love to tell about what you know, and you can go on and on about different kinds of dinosaurs ("a T-rex is a meat eater which is a carnivore") and trucks ("I call these twisty things in my trash truck spirals but Dadu calls them augers") and nature ("that plant is a shrub because it's short and fat"). Your vocabulary and comprehension of the mechanics of the world is unbelievable. Thankfully you still have a few adorable mispronunciations to remind me you're just a little kid (cimanon, quiwet time, and pre-tors are my favorite ones).


Physically you are way past toddlerhood - there is nothing uncertain or weak about the way you move your body. You are a skilled climber and love to run, spin and dance. Your little swivel-hip dance moves could give Elvis a run for his money. We spend lots of time working on art projects and your manual dexterity is getting so strong. In art class you've started creating shapes in the paint (mostly monsters) rather than just filling the page with color, and you work so hard at coloring in the lines at home.



Probably your favorite thing to do right now is spend time in the backyard with your dad. You help him with the yard work, have squirt gun or water ballon battles, or just play on your play structure. You love to be dirty and mourn the loss of your grime each night at bath time. If we let you, you'd always be in your pajamas (which is a trait you get pretty equally from your parents) and never cut your hair. You are such a hippy.


As you learn more and more about the world, I can see bits of your innocence ebbing away. You're starting to explore the idea of death in lots of different ways. You are so sad the dinosaurs are extinct and you talk all the time about a dinosaur land where they are still alive and you can visit them. When we play fighting games you make it clear that you're just pretending and you "don't really want to dead mommy."


This grappling with life and death influences your ideas about food too. You are connecting the idea that meat is dead animals and you've played with the idea of being a vegetarian like mommy. I don't push you, but I do want you to be aware of where all your food comes from - to think about it as a choice, not blindly eating whatever is put in front of you.


Still, you are innocent in so many ways. Most of our mornings begin with you crawling into bed with me and snuggling for a few minutes before you're off at breakneck speed for the day. Often, Lila is in bed too, and you attack her with hugs and kisses. I cannot tell you how much I love these quiet moments before the storm; it's my favorite part of the day and I hope you don't grow out of these cuddle sessions too soon.


I don't know if it's just a short period of peace or the nice weather or a real shift, but you have really mellowed in the past few weeks. From the time you were about 2.5 to just recently I felt like we were in a constant state of battle. You have been pushing and testing for so long, I forgot what it was like to just have a nice, playful day with you. But that's how it's been and it's is so unbelievably wonderful to just play with you and not fight all the time.


River, you are an amazing little boy. I can't imagine a more charming, smarter, more engaging kid than you. I know I'm biased, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I love you so much.

xoxo,
Mommy

Lila News: Five Months

Dear Lila,

Last week your Auntie Jenn visited us here in Cambridge and got to spend some quality snuggle time with you and your cheeks. She's simply in love with you and has vowed to only buy you pink frilly things. I'm happy to indulge her since, quite frankly, I love having a little girl to dress up. I mention your aunt because not only was she here when you turned five months old (AAAAAAHHHHH!!!! FIVE MONTHS!!!), but because she can attest to how different my experience of motherhood has been between you and your brother.


She saw me in my insane new-parent state when River was just a little older than you are now; she saw the hours and hours I spent sequestered in his room, singing and rocking and pleading with him to sleep. She saw me tip-toe out of his room, afraid to squeak the floorboards for fear he would wake; she saw me shush everyone near his room and watch his monitor with eagle eyes - dread on my face when that tale-tell squall eventually came letting us know we were doomed to spend ANOTHER half an hour locked behind closed doors trying to lull him to sleep.


And she has seen you. The first night she was in town we had just sat down to dinner and you gave a little whimper letting us know it was time for your nap. I went into your bedroom, laying you down and giving you a pacifier, and when I returned a minute or two later your Autie Jenn was wide-eyed with wonder. "That's it?" she said. "She's asleep?" And with more pride and gratefulness than I can possibly convey I said, "Yes. That's how Lila rolls."



In this past month you've started sleeping through the night, really sleeping through - from 9pm to 6 or 7am. In fact, at 3 years old your brother is now waking earlier and more often than you. You haven't taken any steps, you can't sit up on your own, and you're still working on rolling over, but when it comes to sleeping you've totally out-paced your brother.


As for River, you are totally in love. I've had to start nursing you in different rooms than him because if he's there you're too busy watching him to focus on eating. The love is mutual and he attacks you with hugs and kisses whenever you enter the room. When you're sad he strokes your head and says, "It's okay, Lila. It's okay." It's rare but there are moments of jealously, times when he wants us to leave you alone so I can keep playing with him. But as soon as you enter the room all is forgotten and you're back to basking in the light of his attention.


You are a little observer, watching the people around you so closely. Sometimes I feel guilty about how much you entertain yourself, chewing on a toy or keeping tabs on me or your dad, but I also feel good that I'm not constantly swinging a toy in your face or teaching you baby signs. In some ways River did (and still does) demand that kind of attention, but you seem perfectly content to watch the world most of the time. Your independence has allowed me to pick up sewing again much sooner than I imagined would be possible, and I spend lots of time working on new projects. You hang out on the playmate or bouncy seat while I make bibs or little shirts. It's an incredible gift to me - to feel like I have more to contribute than just motherhood, to allow me space to create and express myself. I can't thank you enough for that my little Lila Love.


As for milestones you are certainly hitting them. You're very sturdy - able to sit in the bumbo or carrier with nary a head wobble. I think you'll be sitting on your own soon, which will be very exciting for all of us. You grab at anything in front of you and we've had to instill a practice of keeping our drinks and plates out of your reach. You're rolling from back to side really well and a few times you've gotten from your belly to your back (an inelegant little flip flop was involved, but you did it!). You recognize your name and light up whenever I say it, and you've definitely started showing a preference for me over other caretakers. We just started you on solid food and while you seem happy to experiment with it, you are not yet a voracious eater.


Lila Jae, you are my little bumble-butt. You have made our home brighter and happier and you have made me a more mellow mom. There's a lovely balance between the extreme boy energy River brings and the sweet girl energy you have. You give us all the chance for cuddles, quiet reading, and silly-sweet bouncing games. I love you so much.


xoxo,
Mommy

River and Lila News: 35 months/12 weeks

Dear River and Lila,

Is it wrong of me to measure the success of my parenting by how much I get out of the house? By how much you sleep? It feels like my absences from you signify balance in my life, faith that you will be happy without me. Or maybe I'm just neglecting the heck out of you. Either way, I do feel happy. I have been getting out, seeing friends, experiencing the world (more or less), and I don't feel one ounce of guilt for it. Perhaps that's the difference between a first and second-time parent; I can leave you without feeling excruciating pain.


This has come in handy of late since you, River, have started giving up your naps. You fall asleep about every other day, and while you may not need the extra sleep, I'm still waking up at least a couple times before morning to feed your sister and I depend on those moments of peace to function. Without a little down time in the afternoon I turn into a grunting, thrashing Frankenstein. So we've worked out a little compromise: you leave me alone for an hour (if you can't sleep, you read or play by yourself) and I try not to be a gigantic beastie in the afternoon. You're nearly three years old, so while it still tugs at me that you might cause yourself harm or tear down the house, that guilt and worry is not great enough to make me skip my nap.


I suppose there's evidence that you could cause some damage while I sleep. Take an incident from a few weeks ago. You were on a real Tic Tac bend (please don't get me started on how you were even exposed to Tic Tacs), and since they were within your reach on the dining table you were popping them like, well, candy. Before your nap, I put them on top of a 7 ft armoire in the dining room so you couldn't reach them. Silly me to let you see where they were. While I was in my bedroom trying to nap, you started a little project to liberate the Tic Tacs. I could hear a thump, then a few seconds later another one, then another. After about three minutes of listening to you work on something in the dining room I walked out to see you stacking your picture books next to the armoire. I'll admit, I should have worked it out a bit quicker (see above re: sleep deprivation) but it took some probing for me to get it out that you were building yourself a stairway to the Tic Tacs. And you know what I did? Rewarded your cleverness and gave you one. Seriously, if you can engineer your way to something you want, I think that deserves some kind of positive reinforcement. (I may regret that when you've built a time machine in the basement.)


Your ingenuity and cleverness shine through more every day. You are becoming an amazing story teller and have really worked on creating fun scenarios for us to act out. Lots of your story-lines are derived from Richard Scarry books (whose work sometimes make me want to gouge my eyes out, but hey, you love him), and you want us to be firemen or bakers or underwater robots (a River original plotline). You pretty much always have a plan for what games we could play, what activities to do. A few years from now you're going to have a little playground entourage of kids who follow you around and do your bidding. All the other kids will probably find you incredibly bossy and annoying. But that's the price of leadership, I suppose.


As for your language, I can't even say it's "developing" anymore. It's pretty well developed. You grasp so much and your father and I have no need to talk down to you or use small words. If you don't understand a word, you ask what it means. Most of the time you can then use it yourself. Aside from your vocabulary, your syntax is so adult. It's clear that you mimic the way dad and I talk and it makes me crack up when you bust out with, "I sure do like these grapes," or, "So how's it going, uncle Kevin?" You still have a few quirks, but they're fading. I'll be so sad when you no longer say "got-for" instead of "forgot" and "rec-T" instead of "T-Rex." Please stay my little boy a little longer, okay?


And Lila. You are amazing. I couldn't imagine an easier, happier baby. River and I drag you around to playdates, museums, yoga and art classes, and you just take it all in stride. You nap, eat, and play on the road and it doesn't - yet - seem to be a problem.

You like to watch what's going on, and increasingly you like to be held in an upright position. Your neck muscles are getting really strong and soon we'll be able to put you in the bumbo chair where you'll be able to sit up on your own and see the whole room. You still love to watch your brother and, other than a strange fascination with licking your face, he treats you like a princess.


You've started grabbing for toys and you love a good crinkle or bell. You can get objects to your mouth - a washcloth, octopus toy, or your fingers - and you suck away happily. You already have a favorite stuffed animal - a little bear blankie that you smile at and hug close. It pretty much kills me with cuteness. Your eye contact is great, and you give me the most amazing smiles when you first wake up. You love it when I get real close and make google eyes at you and talk silly nonsense. But you don't need constant stimulation. You're great about entertaining yourself, and you've given me ample time to sew and work on craft projects.


We've worked out your evening feeding schedule - it involves a bottle, an early bedtime, and me pumping some - and it seems to be making everyone happy right now. You still sleep incredibly well, and if I nurse you just before I go to sleep you'll sometimes stay down until 5am. To friends without parents that doesn't sound so great, but let me tell you, you would win the gold medal for baby sleep.


You guys are rocking my world right now. I love you both so much and I feel so lucky to be your mom.

xoxoxoxo,
Mommy

drop that bottle!

On Monday I take River to the indoor playground in Watertown so he can get some wiggles out and I can escape the house for a while. Lila has a runny nose and cough, and being carried in the ergro keeps her upright and her nose cleared, so that's where she stays for most of the trip. When she wakes up a few hours in, I feed her and let her have a little playtime out of the carrier. We find this cute toy hanger-thingy (what the heck is that called?) and I set her down. She loves her playmat at home and this is no different.

After a minute a little girl (pictured) comes over to us carrying a bottle full of milk and, almost before I can stop her, shoves the bottle into Lila's face, saying, "Oh, that's a baby. She needs milk!" Horrified as I am to see some unknown bottle of formula? breastmilk? contaminated goat drippings? hurling toward my little girl's face, I feel very proud of myself for not physically tossing that little harbinger of germs away from my daughter. I explain, that, No, she doesn't need any milk. You should keep if for yourself, in a voice that sounds reasonable enough to me, but probably has more than a little bite to it.

The little girl tells me that the bottle isn't hers, and with a bit more prodding I discover she just found it somewhere and thought the best place for it was my daughter's mouth. My first thought is who is taking care of this child and why are they letting her pilfer some poor baby's bottle? My next thought is where the hell is this person and why are they letting her shove said bottle in my baby's face?! I look around but can't see anyone in the immediate vicinity who looks like they're with little miss milkmaid. I can't even see anyone glancing in her direction to keep an eye on her.

I ask the little girl who she's there with but she can't give a straight answer. She starts to bring toys over to Lila, which is a sweet gesture, but I'm so annoyed by the person not watching this girl I'm having a hard time mustering a smile. The last straw finally comes when a gigantic booger slips out of her nose and she wipes it with her hand then reaches down for another toy to hand Lila. And that's it for me. I can't pretend to be nice to her anymore, I can't take on the duties of nanny when I've got two of my own already (did I mention River is taking this opportunity of mommy's distraction to drop the hanging toys onto Lila's face?). I gently suggest she go find a tissue while my brain is screaming something with a few more four letter words in it.

And off she runs, as sweet as can be, to the woman 30 feet away who has been on her cell phone looking in the other direction the entire time.Cell Phone Lady doesn't smile at the girl, or help her with her nose. She just shoos the girl away to play in another room and goes back to her call.

I'm disgusted with myself for not being nicer when that girl is obviously just looking for someone to play with. But don't get me wrong: I'm infinitely more disgusted with the woman (mommy or sitter) who isn't taking care of that little girl. It's something I see often, but it doesn't get any easier. It still makes me want to punch that neglectful asshole in the face.

Breathe, momma bear. Breathe.

River and Lila News: 34 months/7 weeks

Dear River and Lila,

I can't believe how lucky I am. All the fears I had about how difficult it would be to have two kids have dissipated. I feel happy. And complete. That's not to say this parenting thing is easy. Lila you are still an infant, and River, you are most definitely a toddler. I juggle a lot and feel pulled in about 50 different directions all day, but I am not frantic. I'm not sad or overwhelmed. I feel like a mom who has her stuff reasonably well together.


Lila, you are a wonder. Where River can be prickly, hard-edged, and so intense, you are soft and yielding and quiet. You are a deep, slow breath. Where River has a ferocious desired to know, to do, to be, you are content to sit back and observe. You take the world in at your own steady pace.


I know we - your mom and dad - can take a small amount of credit for your contentment, but I think we will see in years to come that it is simply your nature to be easy-going, that you have taken on the role of zen master in this house of high-strung neurotics.


In general you are incredibly easy to make happy. If you are fed, dry, and well-rested the world is grand. You will sit contentedly on your playmat or in your bouncy chair watching the action or flirting with your brother. You have smiles for River like no other and you watch him as he moves around the room.


In the first few weeks of your life, the most difficult part of my day was the evening when you would be desperate to nurse for hours and hours. But even that wasn't so hard - I'd sit reading a book, watching TV, or just staring into your beautiful face while you comforted yourself. Slowly you eased off the boob and now you sleep a bit between nursing sessions in the evening and don't exhibit that frantic need anymore.


You still sleep A LOT. You take a long morning nap, play a little at lunch, and nap again all afternoon. I forgot how much infants sleep - I mean aren't you missing out on valuable crying time? Your dad and I have talked about how maybe you aren't as alert and engaged in the world as your brother was, and maybe you don't have the strength he did at your age, but you have the best thing we could have asked for: YOU SLEEP. You sleep for a 4 or 6 hour chunk before your first nighttime feeding, then you go right back down. I don't have to fight you, I don't have to think of 50 ways to calm you. You nurse, get comfy in your swaddle, get a pacifier and the noise machine, and you are out. It is the best present any parent could get.


You are a voracious eater and have gained nearly three pounds and 2 inches since you were born. Like your brother, you have a massive capacity for spit up, and I can count on you drenching me at least once every other day. You have gorgeous red hair and beautiful blue eyes, and you're building pudge like a walrus. I love that you're spending more time alert these days - the eye contact you make, the smiles you give me melt my heart. You're starting to coo just a little bit and I think soon you'll recognize that you have hands. You are everything I could ask for in a little girl. Just perfect.


As for you, River, you are an amazing big brother. You are so gentle with Lila, so patient when we need to give her attention, and so proud to show her off to your friends. I was afraid you would be too rough with her or resent all the time she gets with mom and dad, but you have been such an absolute champ.


I try not to make comparisons between you and your sister, but it's impossible not to - you are simply such different creatures. When we named you, your dad and I imagined a peaceful brook, a winding stream where one might go to philosophize or toss stones. You, River, are not a quiet creek. You are raging rapids, tumultuous white waters broken by cracked and spiky boulders. You are fun and spontaneous, smart and inventive, but you are not easy to navigate. Your toddler days are like the waterfall at the end of that wild river, and your dad and I are paddling as hard as we can to keep from being pulled down into the deep.


Let me give you a picture from a typical day: one afternoon you woke from your nap in a particularly nasty mood. You called out for me, but when I came you didn't want me there. You called out for daddy with the same results. You wanted nap to be done, but you didn't know what you wanted in its place. You wanted to play but you didn't want out of your crib. You turned down everything we offered, and when we gave you some more time to wake up and sort yourself out, you were upset we weren't sticking around. This went on for about 20 minutes. At one point I offered to lift you out of your crib again, and you said, "No I don't want to!" Very calmly and gently I replied, "Don't worry, honey, we're not going to make you do anything you don't want to." To which you responded, "NO! You can't say that!"

That's you in a nutshell, little man.


It's hard being two going on three. You're like a teenager: thinking you know everything there is to know and having to put up with parents who are so dumb and so cruel. I know these day won't last, but they're tough on all of us. You're a fighter, River, and one day those traits that make you so hard to live with as a toddler will make you such an amazing man. You will stand up for yourself and your beliefs. You will be creative and confident. You will have a determination I can only imagine. I am so proud of you, and while raising you isn't an easy task, it is an infinitely rewarding one.


I love you both, my little dears. You are each in your own way just what I always wanted.

Mommy

welcome to the jungle

I finally had one of those mornings I've been dreading all along. I started the day off right by walking into River's room and unknowingly WAKING HIM UP. What the hell? The first rule of parenting is: Do Not Wake A Sleeping Child. We'd had a long night before (River screaming, Lila screaming, mommy and daddy weeping into our vodka glasses), so I shouldn't have been surprised he slept in late. But it was past 8am and I couldn't imagine he'd still be in the crib when I walked into the nursery to change Lila's diaper (yes, he's still sleeping in there in protest of the monsters that live in his bedroom). So I flip on the light and set Lila on the changing table when I hear a very frustrated little boy yell, "Mommy don't!" behind me and that set the stage for a morning of chaos and fussiness.

Thom had to leave for work shortly thereafter, and River wanted to play with trucks, so I took the two kids down to his room. We spent an hour and a half in there and I swear he spent the entire time planning what he would do with his trucks, but never actually got to the playing. Meanwhile I'm looking at the clicking clock, thinking about the Christmas packages I have to take to the post office today (yes, you read that correctly), the dwindling time River's got to be outside, and the tantrum he's going to have when I have to drag him back home for his nap before he's ready. I finally manage to pull him away from the non-play downstairs and shuffle him and Lila upstairs to get ready to face the cold.

I get a diaper bag packed and sit him on the potty; I check my face - decide make-up isn't worth the time - and River finishes his business (I kid you not) 15 minutes later. Meanwhile Lila wakes up hungry and proceeds to nurse, spit up, poop, and nurse some more. I have a protracted argument with River about the necessity of bringing 2 sippy cups with us (but mom, I need this orange one with old water and I need this orange one with new water), wrestle both kids into snow gear, and get out the door two and a half hours after we woke up.

River does an awesome job at the post office and I promise him a trip to StellaBella Toys as a reward only to discover that they're opening late due to inventory. I try to explain why my toddler can't have the special treat he's been promised and officially enter the third level of hell. We go next door to S&S for an early lunch (and a hot chocolate bribe) and River spends the entire time telling me he's going to stay there and wait for StellaBella to open. In spite of my protests that, No, he will need a nap before then and we can't stay at the diner playing with sugar packets for two hours, he does not hear the voice of reason. We eat (he ignores his sandwich in favor of french fries), I wrestle the snow gear back on, and drag him out the door while toting a very agreeable Lila in the Ergo. We get back to the house, spend another half an hour not-playing with trucks, and he pitches a screaming fit at nap time because he didn't get to not-play long enough. After refusing books, songs, and stories three times I shut him in the nursery and let him cry himself to sleep.

Thus endeth my fantastic morning. (The really funny thing is so little of the drama was caused by Lila I can't blame it on having two kids. The toddler seemed to manage the chaos just fine on his own.)

two weeks later and still in my pajamas

I have officially been a mother of two for 16 days and I can only imagine things going better if I had a 24 hour on-call masseuse and a private Ben and Jerry's store in my basement. This is largely due to the fact that Thom's parents were here for a week and a half of toddler wrangling, and now Thom has a whole week off from work to pick up the slack.

Oh yes, we've had meltdowns and tantrums, we've had blowouts and projectile vomiting, we've had little sleep and less downtime... BUT, we've also had lots of laughs, lots of snuggles, and lots of time together relishing our new family.

Lila is proving to be an exceptionally easy baby to read. She's simple in her needs: feed me, change me, burp me, get me to sleep. If I can accomplish those things, she's a blissful little girl. The biggest challenges right now are feeding her as much as she wants (she likes to nurse pretty much nonstop from 8pm to 11pm) and holding her as much as she likes. Thom takes care of River's bedtime so I can do the evening feed, and the Ergo helps me hold her without giving up use of my arms completely. Even though it seems like a lot, if I think back to how much I held River during the first months of his life, I'm not spending a fraction of that time on Lila. I'm much more willing to put her down and let her entertain herself than I was with River. I don't go rushing in to rescue her from every snort and sigh, and consequently, she's learning to soothe herself much more readily. Some might read that and think I'm short-changing my second child, but I think she will be so much better off with the skills she learning. She will be better adjusted and, just as importantly, she will have a better adjusted mommy.

River has had some tough times this month, but I think it has to do more with his fatigue of company and less with Lila. By the end of their trip, Thom's parents had endured some pretty snotty behavior from the kid - telling them he didn't want their help, wasn't going to talk to them, wasn't going to do what they said. His need for mommy and daddy was intense, and now that Thom's had some time off, River seems happier. His biggest jealousy issue is that Lila gets to sleep in our room and he doesn't. We tried to let him stay in our bed one night this week and it was pretty much a disaster. After Lila's first feeding in the middle of the night, he was awake for another two hours telling us he thought it was wake-up time. Needless to say it is an experiment we will not be repeating.

Aside from having Thom around, another thing taking the pressure off right now is the generous preparation of meals that my friends are doing. About a dozen of the women from my moms' group have taken it upon themselves to cook a meal for us over the next few weeks. It is such a load off knowing we have dinner covered every other day (and can often stretch the leftovers even further), and I am so thankful for their wonderful gift to us.

And speaking of gifts, the best Christmas present we've received this year is the work grandmas Janie and Julie did to POTTY TRAIN RIVER! Yes, that boy is now officially peeing on the potty entirely during the day. He's still in diapers for nighttime, but he's totally in undies once he wakes up. We've had quite a few days without any accidents, and I am so proud of him (and so amazed that it happened right in the midst of a new baby coming). It's pretty much the last thing I thought would happen this month.

Finally, I have to brag just a little because I was shocked to discover yesterday that I have already lost the "baby weight" (this, in spite of the fact that I'm eating anything and everything I can get my hands on). That doesn't mean my shape is anywhere near where I want it to be (my Wii trainer says I'm still fat), but between eating pretty healthy during the pregnancy, burning up calories nursing, and chasing after two kids, I'm 4 lbs lighter than when I got pregnant. Whoo hoo! I went shopping for some non-pregnancy clothes yesterday and was so pleasantly surprised at the sizes I fit into. I think it's a good start for the new year, and I'm hoping to follow through with better eating and work-out habits.

Once Thom goes back to work next week, I know it's going to be rough adjusting to parenting solo most of the time. Our sitter will take some pressure off, but it's nothing compared to having two full-time parents around. I hope I can carry some of the calm and confidence I have right now into the coming months. I would love nothing more than to be this relaxed and happy all the time.

little squeeker

Here we are at day four and things just couldn't be going better. River is totally smitten with his sister and is always demanding his turn to hold her. He's been acting out with the grown-ups in his life but has shown no resentment or anger toward Lila (well, except one passing comment about putting her on the stove, but I'd say that's to be expected of a two year old).

Lila is a fantastic eater and an amazing sleeper. We've had two nights in a row where she's slept for chunks of 4 hours at a time. I know it can't possibly last, but I'll take the rest while I can get it. She's generally very mellow and content to nurse or sit in someone's arms. She likes to be near warm bodies and squeaks like a mouse when she's lonely. She wails like a banshee when she's hungry or getting changed, and she manages to spit up on whatever outfit we put her in seconds after.

Lila's daddy is so obviously in love. He had to be out of town one night this week and when he got home he held her for hours just staring at her. That stupid grin on his face made me fall in love with him all over again.

So far life as a second-time parent is much easier. We're calmer and she seems calmer (I love my River but that kid is demanding!). I feel incredibly blessed right now.

meditations on motherhood

A while back I got a comment from someone who thought that if I was feeling so angsty about having another baby I wasn't ready for a second child. It was one of only a few anonymous comments I've received and probably the first that wasn't completely flowery and supportive. Obviously, the commenter only wanted to offer some well-meaning advice, but I felt very defensive at the time. What do you mean I shouldn't have another child? Do you think I'm a bad mother? Am I a bad mother? I sure bitch about it a lot...

My blog is an open forum and by its very nature invites strangers to comment, but I don't make any money on this and it's principally a journal, so part of me felt that I didn't have any responsibility take (what I viewed as) criticism gracefully. Still, I tried to write a balanced response that didn't scream, "Mind your own business!" The whole episode made me realize how happy I am this blog runs under the radar and I don't have to worry about fielding less-than-glowing comments everyday.

Heather Armstrong recently wrote that she would be appearing on Oprah in a show about confessions on motherhood - a subject that is of obvious interest to me - so I recorded it. (And by the way, I would NEVER want The Wyrd Sisters to be as famous as Dooce is. The emails she receives would crumble me in 2 seconds.)

Most of the women on the show talked about how hard motherhood is, and how our expectations of what we should be able to achieve are so astronomically difficult, they're impossible really. Because we all think we should be The Perfect Mom, there is a culture of silence in which mothers put on a happy face at pre-school drop-off and never let on how overwhelmed they feel. They believe they're the only ones doing it wrong, the only ones who don't have it all together. And the fear that they will be judged for their choices keeps them from opening up to other mothers - mothers who are going through the same exact things.

Luckily the tide seems to be turning. More women are making connections with flawed, real mothers like themselves online - women who are brave enough to show the good, the bad, and the ugly face of motherhood. I feel very lucky to have found a group of women in my real life who have grown with me as a mother, whose children have grown with River, and we all find a way to express both the challenges and the delights of motherhood. Friends, family, my husband, this blog, and other blogs all give me an outlet to bitch about and celebrate it all.

I don't feel alone, but still, I often do feel inadequate. So it was fantastic to hear something that made me feel slightly less guilty about my shortcomings as a mother. This revelation was almost a toss-away comment from one of the guests at the end of the show, but to me it was a kernel of wisdom one might find after months of intense meditation or years of therapy. The woman said something to the effect of: Loving my children is easy. Loving the job of motherhood, not so much. It's such an obvious idea and not really that profound, but to me it was an entire shift in perspective. It made me realize I'm allowed to separate my (mixed) feelings about doing the work of a mother from my immense and overwhelming love for my child. Really, what woman loves cleaning up puke, waking up every hour in the night, and calming a screaming toddler in the midst of a tantrum? You'd have to be insane to say you love those parts of the job. It let me see that I don't always have to be a cheerleader for motherhood and I can still be a great mom. I may not always do a perfect job and I may not always love the job, there is never a single moment that I don't love my child.

And that will be true with one child or twenty.

...or a billboard saying "Have a Baby!"

Thom was out of town last night, leaving me to parent solo for the evening. Usually, this would lead directly to a post lamenting babies and their stupid baby needs and I'm so exhausted and can't he just take a nice bath and go to bed and why oh why won't he sleep?! BUT. This is not that post.

Much to the disappointment of my Long-Suffering-Mother persona, River was a fantastically agreeable toddler last night. In fact, he has been a fantastically agreeable toddler for quite a while now. That's not to say we don't have our moments. He gets tired, I get tired, sometimes we don't agree on what to do next (I say go for a walk, he says read the freaking mitten book for the thousandth time), and we work it out through pouting, tears, or compromise.

But compared to early motherhood these toddler days are an unimaginable breeze. When River was a few months old there were soaring moments of unbelievable joy...interspersed between horrifying messes, uncontrollable crying, constant neediness, and insane fatigue. The happy moments got me through the day, made all those hard moments worth it, but I was never under the impression that parenting was easy or without it's costs.

Today, the happy moments far outweigh the hard ones. I laugh easier, brood less, find more joy in play, and don't feel so overwhelmed by the task. He's such a happy little boy, and I would love to take credit for that, but really, it's just part of who he is. He loves people, he loves discovering, he loves the world and all it has to offer. He finds a way to make each moment fun. (Sometimes I don't like his expression of fun - stop throwing your raisins on the floor! - but if the alternative is an unhappy child who controls himself but finds no joy in life, I'll take my little rebel any day.)

Thom and I have been thinking for a while that we would like to have another child. It's always been the plan to give River a sibling, and the time seems right. But the time has seemed right for almost a year now, and I (obviously) have not been driven to make it happen. We'll wait until we're settled in the new house. We'll just get through the holidays. We'll wait until spring. There always a good reason to put it off just a little longer.

At times I miss that Baby River, the little, cuddly, fantastically squishy baby who melted my heart and took up every spare inch in my brain. While I can appreciate looking back with rose-colored glasses I know how hard it actually is. I am under no delusions that baby #2 will be easy. And subconsciously I guess I've been wary of messing up this great thing we have now. I am so happy. I love being a mother, and there were days before when I couldn't say that. Can I afford to bring another crying, needy, day-darkening child into our happy home? Can I survive another year of mothering an infant?

I don't know. Maybe? Maybe later, maybe tomorrow. Maybe it would be fantastic and I'm just brooding over nothing.

Now would be a good time for the universe to give me a sign about what to do. Something big. Like getting knocked up. That would be a good sign.

a note to the boy

Dear River,

Anytime you want to start eating dinner that would be great.

Love,
Mom

P.S. Thanks for going to bed so easily tonight. It was nice to hold you for three songs and not once hear you ask for daddy in my place.

seriously, what do I do all day long?

I... you... just.. what? There are no words to describe my feelings about this woman's question. If any of my friends feel this way, see Carolyn's response for a pretty accurate description of my day.

is it that time of year (or month) already?

***I've taken this post down***

I read it again and it was just too painful and personal to give to the world. Suffice it to say it was about a bad morning and my blue fall days, and just writing it has helped me work some things out.

River News: Month Eight

Dear River (can you believe I didn't call you some silly name like pookie or sesame seed, or Mr. Bigglesbutt?),

You know how you ask someone how their kid is doing, and for a certain period of time the only accurate response to that question is, "Oh, Little Johnny is into everything"? Well, we've hit that point. You, Mr. Rivertonio, are into EVERYTHING. Crawling has given you a freedom the likes of which you have never known, and I tell you, you are drunk with that power.




















In spite of having the house as baby-proofed as possible, there are certain things we simply cannot make completely baby resistant. The TV, for instance, is on a big stand that has glass shelves which you love to lean on, and the cat litter has to be accessible to the cats, which means it is also accessible to you, and the ONE plant that mommy has managed to keep alive is on a stand just at the perfect height for you to pull off its little leaves. So, instead of being able to sit you down and let you roam, we sit you down (in front of a big, enticing pile of toys) and off you race to the nearest off-limits object you can find.




















Another side effect of your enhanced mobility is that it's REALLY difficult to change your diaper. As soon as we lay you down, you squirm and flip and spin, performing acrobatic feats a Cirque du Soleil performer would envy. It often takes two people to get the job done, and even then it's sometimes easier to just change you while you stand up. You're so squirmy, getting any kinds of bottoms back on you is near impossible, so we just leave you pantless most of the time.




















Your favorite modes of play these days are pulling, dumping, and banging. You love to pull things off of shelves and out of drawers. Books, DVDs, toys: if it's on a shelf it must come down! Also, if it's in a basket or other container, it must be dumped! You have a wonderful wooden block set that sits in a tiny wagon and the first thing you do when you see it is dump it out. Finally, if it can be held, it can be banged! You have a spoon--bang! on the tray. You have a book--bang! on the floor. You have a hand--bang! on daddy's head.




















I have to say the cutest thing you've learned to do this month is bounce. You bounce when you're happy, and you are happy all the time, my boy. It doesn't matter if you're in my arms, on your knees, in the bath, or in your booster seat--just like Tigger, you can bounce anywhere.




















This month hasn't been all roses, of course. You've gotten in no less than FIVE TEETH. That has meant a lot of sleepless nights for all three of us. I think you're done teething for a while (I hope), so that's good. You've also started experiencing a bit of separation anxiety lately. You seem extraordinarily needy, especially at night, and especially for mommy. You won't let your dad put you to sleep and you often wake three or four times before you're really down.















You've had a couple play dates at auntie Crystal's house, and anytime she leaves the room (even if you can see her over the kitchen counter) you freak out. I think your ability to get around has made you realize that you can be away from people and that is a scary idea. We're here to help you work your fears out and let you know that we'll always come back.















This month you've climbed some great heights (literally and figuratively), and it's been so fun to watch you.















I love you,
Mommy