Lately I've been humbled...
Reminded that I am NOT a perfect mother or housekeeper.
I waited too long for a diaper change and Braden had a massive blowout. Out of the diaper, up the back, down the leg.
I accidentally deleted Mackenzie's second favorite "Olivia" episode from the DVR.
My floors are sticky.
There are enough dust bunnies under the couch to stuff a duvet (Remember duvets? I haven't had the time or patience for one of those in years.)
Clean clothes sit in my dryer for days.
I've reused sippy cups.
I've served chocolate milk over regular milk more times than I care to admit.
Lunch for Mackenzie often consists of whatever I can put on a plate in T-minus five seconds.
There's crusted spit up on the car seat straps (AGAIN).
Mackenzie burned herself on a lamp in my bedroom because I told her she needed to leave the nursery while I put Braden to sleep.
Thanks to postpartum hormones my hair loss is officially out of control and my bathroom floor looks like Big Foot spent the night on it.
Even the pizza delivery guy chastised me for not watering the flowers on my front steps.
But...
The pediatrician was astonished by Braden's weight gain at his appointment the other day. Little Man is back up to the 20th percentile and is doing just great.
And Mackenzie can't seem to get enough baby spinach and tomatoes.
She even turned down the notion of an ice cream run today and opted instead for an ACTUAL run on the trail behind our house. Naturally, she talked me into some jumping jacks and burpees along the way.
So tonight when I go to bed and think about the dead impatiens and the dirty hardwood floors and the wrinkled laundry I'll take solace in the fact that my kids are happy and healthy. What more could a less-than-perfect mommy ask for?
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
We. Are. Mom.
I used to write this blog with great ease and efficiency. That was back before Mackenzie spent the day asking me a million questions about unimportant things and insisting that she dress herself. And before I had another baby.
Now things aren't so simple. But today served as a reminder for why I started writing this "living" journal in the first place. So as not to forget. I never wanted to forget this experience. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
Now things aren't so simple. But today served as a reminder for why I started writing this "living" journal in the first place. So as not to forget. I never wanted to forget this experience. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
10 Things I Never Thought I'd Let My Toddler Do
1) Eat candy at breakfast (gimme a break, she was sick)
2) Listen to the Beastie Boys
3) Watch more than an hour of TV in one day
4) Play in the medicine cabinet (relax, she was supervised)
5) Have her own iPhone (in my defense it doesn't have full service)
6) Prance around the house naked
7) Eat in her bed, her car seat, or her stroller
8) Have her own Facebook page (kidding!!!)
9) Sit in a restaurant high chair without a protective cover (gasp!)
10) See me cry
2) Listen to the Beastie Boys
3) Watch more than an hour of TV in one day
4) Play in the medicine cabinet (relax, she was supervised)
5) Have her own iPhone (in my defense it doesn't have full service)
6) Prance around the house naked
7) Eat in her bed, her car seat, or her stroller
8) Have her own Facebook page (kidding!!!)
9) Sit in a restaurant high chair without a protective cover (gasp!)
10) See me cry
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Sleep Training: 102
First lesson... Turns out, everything you learned in Sleep Training: 101 doesn't apply here.
At least not for us.
Seven months ago when Mackenzie decided it was time to scale her crib like a ninja we were forced to transition her to a toddler bed. We spent countless hours reading various parenting blogs and forums, each promising a different fail-proof sleep training regimen that would result in restful nights for all.
We settled for the old cry-it-out approach, a technique that worked fairly well for us when Mackenzie was still in her crib. Tough love? Maybe. But to each his own.
Of course, cry it out only works if the child is unable to escape. So, piled on the mean parenting train was the fact that we shut Mackenzie's door -- which we baby proofed -- essentially trapping her inside.
This decision became slightly easier for us after it was endorsed by the pediatrician's office. The doctor explained that a toddler needs to know that she has to sleep in her own bed and that cozying up with mommy and daddy is not an option. (Of course, exceptions are made in certain circumstances, such as when the child is sick.) Since Doug and I had agreed long ago that co-sleeping wasn't for us, we felt this was our best bet.
Our plan worked. The first night was living hell... Forty straight minutes of miserable, blood-curdling screaming. But after that Mackenzie was able to get herself to sleep peacefully. On the rare occasion that she woke up in the middle of the night, she was capable of going back to bed on her own.
But that all changed within the last few months, and one can only imagine that the disruption in sleep pattern had something to do with the fact that Mackenzie turned two and/or that she became a big sister.
We went from a seemingly independent sleeper to a master manipulator. Mackenzie started throwing tantrums at bedtime, kicking her door with what seemed like super human force, screaming at the top of her lungs, and - when we broke down and succumbed to her bedroom floor in an effort to appease her - playing mind games with us for hours: "I want blanket", "I don't want blanket", "I want pillow", "No pillow", "I want bunny", "I want baby", "No bunny", "No baby"... You get the picture.
Her conniving little games culminated in an all-out takeover within the last couple of weeks. That girl had us wrapped around her finger and I knew we just had to put an end to it. She knew the door kicking would drive us crazy. So she kept doing it. And eventually we caved in and stuck with her until she fell asleep. Which ended up being anywhere between 9 pm and sometimes 11 pm. And then it started all over at 3 or 4 or 5.
Ultimately, Doug and I have spent the better part of the summer curled up on Mackenzie's floor with one arm draped over the bed railing holding her hand. Try to make a premature escape and BOOM! she squeezes even harder as if to say, "You're mine. I rule this house. You will do as I say. And tonight you're keeping your ass on this floor as long as I want you there."
So after countless mornings waking up sore and stiff I had finally had enough.
We needed change.
Our solution? Leave the door open.
How, you ask, do we ensure that she stays in her room?
By standing outside of it and escorting
her to bed each time she gets up.
Over...
And over
And over
And over.
And depending on who you ask you can say something like, "Stay in bed and I'll be back in five minutes to check on you."
Like she has any concept of five minutes.
Or you can say nothing. Because making her feel ignored and unloved is really helpful and effective.
So we're seeing what works for us, staying consistent with the toddler walk of shame, back into the bedroom. Back under the covers.
So far Mackenzie has been trying her hand at every possible stall tactic...
"I have boogies."
"I have a boo boo."
"I have poops."
"I have pee pee."
"I'm scared of something."
Doug points out that these pleas for attention would work on us if they weren't lumped together. I'd go running to rescue Mackenzie if she simply cried, "Something hurts." But when it's paired with "I have snots" or "I want chocolate milk" I'm not as inclined to tend to the boy who cried wolf. (Note to self: bad idea to ever let her taste chocolate milk!)
Admittedly, my biggest fear is that Mackenzie is too damn manipulative for someone who's barely two. She knows how to push our buttons. And I'm starting to think that she just might be smarter than I am. But if we let her win, no one in this house will ever sleep again...
Except, perhaps Braden, who has endured so much noise he's now capable of sleeping through anything.
At least not for us.
Seven months ago when Mackenzie decided it was time to scale her crib like a ninja we were forced to transition her to a toddler bed. We spent countless hours reading various parenting blogs and forums, each promising a different fail-proof sleep training regimen that would result in restful nights for all.
We settled for the old cry-it-out approach, a technique that worked fairly well for us when Mackenzie was still in her crib. Tough love? Maybe. But to each his own.
Of course, cry it out only works if the child is unable to escape. So, piled on the mean parenting train was the fact that we shut Mackenzie's door -- which we baby proofed -- essentially trapping her inside.
This decision became slightly easier for us after it was endorsed by the pediatrician's office. The doctor explained that a toddler needs to know that she has to sleep in her own bed and that cozying up with mommy and daddy is not an option. (Of course, exceptions are made in certain circumstances, such as when the child is sick.) Since Doug and I had agreed long ago that co-sleeping wasn't for us, we felt this was our best bet.
Our plan worked. The first night was living hell... Forty straight minutes of miserable, blood-curdling screaming. But after that Mackenzie was able to get herself to sleep peacefully. On the rare occasion that she woke up in the middle of the night, she was capable of going back to bed on her own.
But that all changed within the last few months, and one can only imagine that the disruption in sleep pattern had something to do with the fact that Mackenzie turned two and/or that she became a big sister.
We went from a seemingly independent sleeper to a master manipulator. Mackenzie started throwing tantrums at bedtime, kicking her door with what seemed like super human force, screaming at the top of her lungs, and - when we broke down and succumbed to her bedroom floor in an effort to appease her - playing mind games with us for hours: "I want blanket", "I don't want blanket", "I want pillow", "No pillow", "I want bunny", "I want baby", "No bunny", "No baby"... You get the picture.
Her conniving little games culminated in an all-out takeover within the last couple of weeks. That girl had us wrapped around her finger and I knew we just had to put an end to it. She knew the door kicking would drive us crazy. So she kept doing it. And eventually we caved in and stuck with her until she fell asleep. Which ended up being anywhere between 9 pm and sometimes 11 pm. And then it started all over at 3 or 4 or 5.
Ultimately, Doug and I have spent the better part of the summer curled up on Mackenzie's floor with one arm draped over the bed railing holding her hand. Try to make a premature escape and BOOM! she squeezes even harder as if to say, "You're mine. I rule this house. You will do as I say. And tonight you're keeping your ass on this floor as long as I want you there."
So after countless mornings waking up sore and stiff I had finally had enough.
We needed change.
Our solution? Leave the door open.
How, you ask, do we ensure that she stays in her room?
By standing outside of it and escorting
her to bed each time she gets up.
Over...
And over
And over
And over.
And depending on who you ask you can say something like, "Stay in bed and I'll be back in five minutes to check on you."
Like she has any concept of five minutes.
Or you can say nothing. Because making her feel ignored and unloved is really helpful and effective.
So we're seeing what works for us, staying consistent with the toddler walk of shame, back into the bedroom. Back under the covers.
So far Mackenzie has been trying her hand at every possible stall tactic...
"I have boogies."
"I have a boo boo."
"I have poops."
"I have pee pee."
"I'm scared of something."
Doug points out that these pleas for attention would work on us if they weren't lumped together. I'd go running to rescue Mackenzie if she simply cried, "Something hurts." But when it's paired with "I have snots" or "I want chocolate milk" I'm not as inclined to tend to the boy who cried wolf. (Note to self: bad idea to ever let her taste chocolate milk!)
Admittedly, my biggest fear is that Mackenzie is too damn manipulative for someone who's barely two. She knows how to push our buttons. And I'm starting to think that she just might be smarter than I am. But if we let her win, no one in this house will ever sleep again...
Except, perhaps Braden, who has endured so much noise he's now capable of sleeping through anything.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Wet Happened?
Mackenzie is a human sponge lately... absorbing more than I ever thought a 2 year old was capable of. She's repeating everything she hears (not so great when she has a mother who still needs to curb her potty mouth), remembering small details from throughout the day (not so great when she tells daddy that mommy tooted that afternoon), and asking a million and one questions (not so great when mommy is sleep-deprived and the patience tank is running on empty).
As we were leaving a restaurant last week after a nice family dinner where all the chips seemed to fall into place and the four of us actually managed to join the rest of the world for an hour of normalcy, Mackenzie ever-so-sweetly pointed aimlessly and asked, "What's this, Mommy?"
"What's what, Mackenzie?"
"This," she said, again pointing at nothing in particular.
"This is life," I half sighed, for no reason other than lack of a better answer.
Doug laughed, shaking his head. I guess I wasn't very convincing.
I thought about my answer.
Seemed to me like a reasonable response. Then I thought about Mackenzie's question and I thought about my answer again.
Why wasn't I clever?
Magical!
Why didn't I take her breath away with some fairy tale explanation?
Because I'm a mom just like many of you. And sometimes we don't have all the answers despite the cold, hard fact that moms are supposed to have all the answers.
It dawned on me that before long Mackenzie will be asking why the sky is blue, why the grass is green, why, why, why...
And I realize I'm going to need to polish up on my storytelling skills.
You'd think that I would've worked on them in the week since the big "life" lesson.
But you know me better than that.
This afternoon Mackenzie helped me water the flowers... a little ritual we've started together. The only issue is that watering the flowers basically translates to Mackenzie watering her clothes and shoes.
She watched herself pour the water onto her feet, and immediately turned sour realizing that she had nothing left in her can.
"Wet happened?" she asked, looking confused and sad.
Of course, she wanted to know WHAT happened... but in her darling little toddler voice the "what" was "wet".
I explained that yes, in fact, wet happened. Wet happened all over her feet which were still soiled from the playground. And now we had to clean her feet before we tracked mud through the house. And we had to do it quickly because her poor little brother was all alone inside taking a nap.
Like she cared.
All she wanted was more water to dump all over herself.
Which is exactly what I gave her.
And she was a happy little girl again.
And I realized that I may not have all the answers all the time. That I might take the lazy route sometimes because I'm too tired to use my imagination. That I may be cynical sometimes because I miss the days where dinner out on a Saturday night meant great adult conversation paired with enjoyable adult beverages... and it didn't involve coloring between courses or counting the cars that passed out the window.
But I also realized that more often than not I love teaching an inquisitive and curious little person about the world and all its wonder. And I love seeing the look on her face when she discovers something new.
As we were leaving a restaurant last week after a nice family dinner where all the chips seemed to fall into place and the four of us actually managed to join the rest of the world for an hour of normalcy, Mackenzie ever-so-sweetly pointed aimlessly and asked, "What's this, Mommy?"
"What's what, Mackenzie?"
"This," she said, again pointing at nothing in particular.
"This is life," I half sighed, for no reason other than lack of a better answer.
Doug laughed, shaking his head. I guess I wasn't very convincing.
I thought about my answer.
Seemed to me like a reasonable response. Then I thought about Mackenzie's question and I thought about my answer again.
Why wasn't I clever?
Magical!
Why didn't I take her breath away with some fairy tale explanation?
Because I'm a mom just like many of you. And sometimes we don't have all the answers despite the cold, hard fact that moms are supposed to have all the answers.
It dawned on me that before long Mackenzie will be asking why the sky is blue, why the grass is green, why, why, why...
And I realize I'm going to need to polish up on my storytelling skills.
You'd think that I would've worked on them in the week since the big "life" lesson.
But you know me better than that.
This afternoon Mackenzie helped me water the flowers... a little ritual we've started together. The only issue is that watering the flowers basically translates to Mackenzie watering her clothes and shoes.
She watched herself pour the water onto her feet, and immediately turned sour realizing that she had nothing left in her can.
"Wet happened?" she asked, looking confused and sad.
Of course, she wanted to know WHAT happened... but in her darling little toddler voice the "what" was "wet".
I explained that yes, in fact, wet happened. Wet happened all over her feet which were still soiled from the playground. And now we had to clean her feet before we tracked mud through the house. And we had to do it quickly because her poor little brother was all alone inside taking a nap.
Like she cared.
All she wanted was more water to dump all over herself.
Which is exactly what I gave her.
And she was a happy little girl again.
And I realized that I may not have all the answers all the time. That I might take the lazy route sometimes because I'm too tired to use my imagination. That I may be cynical sometimes because I miss the days where dinner out on a Saturday night meant great adult conversation paired with enjoyable adult beverages... and it didn't involve coloring between courses or counting the cars that passed out the window.
But I also realized that more often than not I love teaching an inquisitive and curious little person about the world and all its wonder. And I love seeing the look on her face when she discovers something new.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
#needtounplug (10 Signs You're Raising Kids in the Age of Social Media)
1) You often wonder why you're looking at pictures of someone else's kid on Facebook when your own child is sitting right next to you.
2) You've missed epic events, such as first smiles or first steps because you were waiting for the camera on your smart phone to focus.
3) You search Pinterest hoping it will help you become a more creative and innovative parent.
4) Your toddler can navigate YouTube on her own.
5) Google has become your go-to parenting guide.
6) You tweet your baby's birth stats from the delivery room.
7) Instead of calling the pediatrician's office when your child has a fever you ferociously search every open forum ever created on Baby Center looking for answers.
8) All 587 of your closest friends have seen your cervix, thanks to those 3D ultrasound pictures you posted on Facebook.
9) Your 2-year-old has figured out how to unlock your password-protected iPhone.
10) Instead of creating an intimate and private baby book to track your first born's milestones, you started a mommy blog to share the most intimate details of her young, innocent life with the general public.
2) You've missed epic events, such as first smiles or first steps because you were waiting for the camera on your smart phone to focus.
3) You search Pinterest hoping it will help you become a more creative and innovative parent.
4) Your toddler can navigate YouTube on her own.
5) Google has become your go-to parenting guide.
6) You tweet your baby's birth stats from the delivery room.
7) Instead of calling the pediatrician's office when your child has a fever you ferociously search every open forum ever created on Baby Center looking for answers.
8) All 587 of your closest friends have seen your cervix, thanks to those 3D ultrasound pictures you posted on Facebook.
9) Your 2-year-old has figured out how to unlock your password-protected iPhone.
10) Instead of creating an intimate and private baby book to track your first born's milestones, you started a mommy blog to share the most intimate details of her young, innocent life with the general public.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Dear Mackenzie,
It's only been two years but I feel like I've known you forever.
Looking back at old pictures, I realize how quickly time flies. In a matter of months you have blossomed into a little girl who - on most days - takes my breath away. Despite your tender age, you've already shown what a sensitive, affectionate and caring person you are. I take pride in seeing how well you share with others, and how truly charismatic you can be.
Then, of course, there are the days where you remind me how everything is "mines" and you stubbornly refuse to give me hugs and kisses. The days where you choose to kick your bedroom door rather than nap. The days where nothing I do is good enough.
But oh... dear, sweet Mackenzie. I love you. I love you more than you'll ever know.
I love the way you laugh. I love your beautiful smile. I love how you feel curled up next to me reading a book.
I could never imagine a life where I wasn't able to watch you sleep or splash in the bath or run around a playground. And although there are days when I think how being back at work would make my life so much easier, I would miss making pork chops in your play kitchen and eating lunch by your side... despite the fact that nothing, not even my lunch, is mine anymore.
But with everything you've taken from me... my sanity, my freedom, my body... You've been the best thing I could ever have asked for in life.
Happy birthday, munchkin. I'd give you the world if I could.
Love,
Mommy
Looking back at old pictures, I realize how quickly time flies. In a matter of months you have blossomed into a little girl who - on most days - takes my breath away. Despite your tender age, you've already shown what a sensitive, affectionate and caring person you are. I take pride in seeing how well you share with others, and how truly charismatic you can be.
Then, of course, there are the days where you remind me how everything is "mines" and you stubbornly refuse to give me hugs and kisses. The days where you choose to kick your bedroom door rather than nap. The days where nothing I do is good enough.
But oh... dear, sweet Mackenzie. I love you. I love you more than you'll ever know.
I love the way you laugh. I love your beautiful smile. I love how you feel curled up next to me reading a book.
I could never imagine a life where I wasn't able to watch you sleep or splash in the bath or run around a playground. And although there are days when I think how being back at work would make my life so much easier, I would miss making pork chops in your play kitchen and eating lunch by your side... despite the fact that nothing, not even my lunch, is mine anymore.
But with everything you've taken from me... my sanity, my freedom, my body... You've been the best thing I could ever have asked for in life.
Happy birthday, munchkin. I'd give you the world if I could.
Love,
Mommy
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