joie

I just can't keep up

I was just in the other room rocking his sister to sleep for five minutes. FIVE minutes!! And I hear a loud crash, bang and the muffled sound of debris settling. I put my dear sweet baby down. She starts crying. I pick her back up and cross my fingers Gabe is just momentarily quiet because he is engaged in what he is doing. Finally, she is settled and I can go in there and check. This is what I find:

Not sure why the flotation device. Maybe he knows something. God help us all if he is planning something. In the time it took to wait for that picture to upload and write one paragraph, he snuck out the dog door twice. When I finished, I turned around, DIRECTLY BEHIND ME to find this:

That would be the rest of the Oxiclean. At least he is occupied. I'll sweep it up later. You better believe I'll still use it. We are STRAPPED for cash around here. Every grain of Oxiclean costs money. All I ask is that next time he feels like starting some new demolition projects, that he AT LEAST wait until I've had my coffee so I have a fighting chance.

Whiplash!

My life has taken a turn on the merry go round and landed at the other side. I have come so far beyond what I was writing about two, three, four years ago, I haven't quite found my new voice. But, I miss this. And after reading My sister's hilarious blog and ass-dissapearingly funny old blog, I am inspired.

To give a brief synopsis of the last two years, some of which will be review: I had a baby boy. Gained a lot of weight. Lost it all. Had a baby girl. Gained a lot of weight. Working on losing it, figuring out who I am and keeping ahead of the huge tidal wave of tedious tasks that make up my life.

I can no longer say I have "Two under two" Because my baby boy just crossed that milestone. But, I can say that life with a toddler and an infant is MORE. More joy, more insanity, more noise, more diapers, more exasperation, more frustration, more love, more laundry, MORE MORE MORE!! The highest highs and the lowest lows. And everything has changed.

I'm sure the old fans of this blog have long moved on, which may be a good thing. I am starting over. I birthed two babies (in a matter of speaking...two unplanned cesareans and two unsuccessful natural births will be a topic for another day...) and in the process re-birthed myself. This blog, whether anyone reads it or not will be part of the process of discovery for me. This turn on the merry go round has happened so fast, I haven't taken much time to examine it. Now its time for me to pick myself up off the ground, dust of the sand, take a deep breath and figure out where in the hell I landed!

Doin it our way

That honey-oak finish crib that I spent two months researching before I decided to buy? Is now the world's most expensive and large quilt rack. We are officially co-sleepers 100% of the time. Gabe and I have an agreement. I instill an "open bra" policy on nursing, put up with the occasional punches in the face and redefine the phrase "wet spot". He gives me 75% more sleep and sweet, sweet cuddles all night long. Oh, and he agrees to sleep in the occasional wet spot.

It all started the week of the triple crown: two new teeth, separation anxiety and mama's return to work all came into our lives in a big violent crash over the course of about three days. He was in pain, he missed me. I missed him. SO MUCH. After a looooong day with children who seem perpetually difficult to calm, I could come home to my sweet baby boy and create an island of peace and love in our cozy bed with the magic of my presence (and my milk). And now that we know that joy, how can we ever go back?

Mr. November

He can hate me for this later. For now, isn't he adorable?

Yawn!

Dangitt! I missed a day of NaBloPoMo. I know, I already started late. But, I thought I would make up for it with my dedicated attention to daily blogging. In my defense, I have been holding a baby for the last 24 hours. No sleeping occurred day or night unless he was in my arms. Its like the first three weeks all over again. Does this mean he has autism? Could he be getting separation anxiety already? He's not even six months old! Does this mean he's gifted? Lack of sleep makes my mind go to strange places.

My little Gabriel has NEVER been a "good" sleeper. This seems to be a big issue for many people. My mother's new greeting for me is "How did he sleep last night?" I am getting sick of coming up with unique and creative ways of saying "LIKE A BABY!" (By which I mean lightly and in very short cycles). For a while I took this to heart and felt like it was my personal mission to solve this "problem" and find the magic solution to get him to sleep through the night. I read a lot of books. All of them contradict each other. I liked the research that Dr. Weissbluth's book uses about infant sleep. How much they need, how their sleep cycles work. All very interesting. It was my bible for the first three months. I would read the section for Gabe's age each month. But then he goes off the deep end (in my opinion) and says when a baby hits four months, let him cry it out based on nothing more than his opinion its about time they learned.

The Sears' are all warm and fuzzy and if you really love your baby you would surely go with their plan. But, I have to confess after wearing out their pregnancy and birth books I am a little burnt out and maybe a tinge resentful at the subtle underlying message that its a natural easy process and if it doesn't go well, you must have interfered and caused the problem. And they even admit that their first three babies slept peacefully in their own cribs.

I tried the Lull-a-Baby plan for one week. Disaster. Basically, her idea is don't pick him up, just talk to him. For as long as it takes. Dan read him a novel. Apparently Gabe does not like science fiction. That was my low point.

I struggled a few weeks, deliberated, drove every mother I know crazy asking their opinions. I just wanted to do the right thing. Which need overrode the other? His need for security and having his fusses met immediately, or his need for sleep, which apparently makes all the difference in which track he gets on in first grade, and whether or not he can get into the ivy league. I did a lot of internet research and found the same thing as in the books. Lots of opinions. No real long term research. And then I realized, this is not infertility. It is not a problem to solve. It is what babies do.

I threw away the books and decided to listen to my baby. He says he sometimes wants to hang on to me by the breast all night long and sometimes really just wants me to leave the room so he can get some rest already. But, he does know what he wants. And he's a good communicator if I listen. He won't be a baby for very long. This will pass. I just need a pithy, stop them in their tracks response to "Does he sleep through the night?"

Cleaning out some cobwebs

Going from not posting in months to everyday is harder than I thought...I'm not sure what to say. I'm just going to ramble stream of consciousness style. Forgive me. Feel free to ignore. Is this autumn really as beautiful as it seems or is it just the first autumn I'm not in school in, like, FOREVER! It just seems like the colors are more intense, and well, the lack of rain is a happy surprise. Normally, it seems like around here the leaves just turn into a brown, wet compost tea that makes the sidewalks dangerously slippery. Here are some pictures I took out the car window when we were stuck for TWO HOURS in a traffic jam on the way to the pumpkin patch:

Speaking of school, I can't believe doomsday, AKA my return to work, is so close. This Friday!!! I did plan it well. I return on a Friday, which is a planning day before a three day weekend. Then, I have two days of conferences on students I don't even know, and a week and a half break.  After Thanksgiving, I have four whole weeks of full time teaching to get through before my next break. I am really trying not to think about it, but whenever I do, I feel like I am headed to the executioner.  All this week, I am doing a series of lasts...last playgroup, last walk in the sunshine with Gabe...Okay, I know I'm being mellowdramatic, but I'm just SO sad. Being ripped away from my baby. Upsetting his entire world. It kills me. But, I gotta pay for the new kitchen. And yet, there have been times this week when I thought I would go crazy trying to make that kid happy with the teething and ravenous hunger. I'm starting to realize that motherhood, among many, many other things, is a series of losses and letting go. This won't be the last time I say goodbye to some phase of our time with mixed feelings. Just wait until the first time he says, "mom, don't kiss me in front of my friends." My heart, it aches.

So Tasty

Here I am again. 4:28 am. A brief respite from the suddenly constant nursing. Picturing scenes from all the vampire movies I've seen. I'm becoming nocturnal and sucked dry. Literally. The other morning I woke up and my mouth was drier than I could ever imagine. Sometimes I can actually feel the water being siphoned out of my mouth and down into my breasts to feed this increasingly giant, ravenous baby. Oh, this is just early morning cranky talk. There is nothing that makes me happier than holding my son to my breast and look into those little eyes, feeling his amazingly soft little hands exploring. All worth it.

A few minutes ago, at the NaBloPoMo site, Elizabeth asked the question, "What is your biggest joy as an older mom?" And all I could think of was, having this perfect, amazing, beautiful little person to fall in love with! Okay, all moms have that. I guess I think being older and taking such a windy, rocky road to get here I think that I am more acutely aware of how precious and miraculous this is. If I had become a mother when I was younger, it would have been no less amazing and special, but it would have had to compete with so many other parts of my life that weren't quite where I wanted them to be yet. I compare it to having a meal. Sometimes you stop for lunch in the middle of your day and hurriedly get back to all the other things you have to do. Other times you put everything down and sit with people you care about to have a very special meal that took all day to prepare. You take the time and focus entirely on the meal, savoring every bite. Thats what motherhood for me, age 38, is like. Delicious.

NaBloPoMo

I am utterly ashamed of how neglectful I have been. I am so out of the habit of writing. Or really doing anything that requires the use of my few synapses that are still firing. I have to conserve them for the important thoughts like distinguishing the "I'm hungry" cry from the "damn you woman, pay attention to what I am saying here" cry; remembering to buckle the carseat (I actually forgot for one block once); and motor skills like one handed...well, everything.

For this month I am joiniong the herd and committing to writing everyday. We'll see how it goes. It could be complete gibberish. But I want to get back in the habit. For now, I will leave you with a few examples of what I have been doing instead of writing:

In the spirit of full disclosure

I have to be honest. We did not "camp" with the baby this year. We did join in the family camp-out, but only for two days. It was easy. handfuls of aunties to hold Gabriel all day while he stared up in wonderment at the canopy of trees and mommy and daddy went on a hike. Everyone was happy.

Until the drive home.

A deer ran out in front of our car right at dusk, so it was a little hard to see. But, I was driving slow (much to the annoyance of the line of cars behind me, who can NOW thank me) and thinking quick and was able to stop in time. Very suddenly. Gabriel started crying and he wouldn't stop even as we drove into the next town. I made Dan get out of his seatbelt and FIND THE BINKY wherever it fell. When he found it he said, "Um, I think I figured out why he won't stop crying..." and he held up the binky for me to observe. It was COVERED in sticky baby poo. So was the baby. So was the carseat. Oh, fun! So, I guess that deer really scared Gabe. How much, you ask? (you knew this was coming....) Apparently, it scared the SHIT out of him!

"I am done, can we just go home now?"

Photo Friday: Camping Out

Dexter, always the optimist,  loves the idea of a weekend in the woods: All the critters to harrass, all the bushes to sniff and mark, marshmallows and weiners falling from above all over the place. The potential for fun is HUGE. But after several days of being tied up, avoiding fires (his greatest fear), having to be on alert ALL THE TIME and chancy weather, he is not the world's greatest fan.