Harrison hates diaper changes. This has not always been the case, but for the last week or two, they have become his Public Enemy No. 1 (& 2). He would rather walk around in a soggy or dirty diaper for half an hour or more than risk the torture of the changing table; at least, it appears to be torture based on his reaction every time I go to change him. There is always wiggling and whining and sometimes even kicking and crying involved. Just this morning, when he'd had his diaper on for over twelve hours and even my snuffy nose could clearly sense that he needed to be changed, he fought me on it, telling me, "I don't want! I don't want!" Why?
What is it that makes a two-year-old not want his diaper changed? Is this is a sign of wanting to potty train? Seems like an odd one to me. I would be happy to move him from diapers to the potty but haven't even bothered with it because of BWNo2's quickly approaching arrival. Anticipating a backslide and taking into consideration HD's age, I figured we just weren't ready. But why the diaper battles? It's not even that he just doesn't want to wear one - it's that he doesn't even want the soiled one taken off!
For my pregnant back, diaper changes have become the least favorite part of the day. I have enough challenges maneuvering my belly around without having to wrestle Harrison out of and into diapers all day long. The stress, not to mention the physical strain of it all, is, well - a big, fat stinker.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Baby Legs (or maybe elbows)
Baby Welsch No. 2, as we've so affectionately been referring to my growing belly, is moving a LOT. For comparison's sake, I remember Harrison being an active baby. In fact, I remember that near the end of that pregnancy, when he was in his head down position with bum and legs up by my ribs, he would push so hard with his feet that I literally would push back with my own hand just to relieve the pressure! So far BWNo.2 isn't that stuck or that stubborn. I have a feeling, however, that we may be headed down that same path because this is once again a very active baby. Did I mention I gave up caffeine when I got pregnant? Well, mostly. But I gave it up entirely a least a couple of months ago, but you wouldn't know it by the way my belly wiggles and jiggles all day and all night.
In no way am I complaining about feeling the baby move. I know it is a good thing - a great thing - and it is actually one of my favorite things about pregnancy. The bond between mama and baby starts with those kicks, I think. Mom is the only one who knows Babe is moving unless she decides to share the experience by grabbing someone else's hand and putting it on the stomach to feel the next blow; but even then, I just don't think it is the same thing as feeling that movement inside your own body. There is something about that connection that is just magical. Like a preview to a film that you know you are going to adore, these kicks are the first sign (after the growing belly, of course) that you really are creating something - someone - here that is going to steal your heart forever.
While I was trying to fall asleep last night, BWNo2. was really on a roll. I mean, really! S/he was rolling around, tap dancing on my bladder and belly, moving more than I think I've felt to date. I almost had to laugh because somehow I missed the memo that my uterus had been transformed into a nightclub. But so as to not disturb my sleeping husband (who has been driven out of our bedroom twice already this week by my coughing), I kept my laughter in and put my hand on my tummy instead - all the better to feel the dance party (and the love) from the inside out.
In no way am I complaining about feeling the baby move. I know it is a good thing - a great thing - and it is actually one of my favorite things about pregnancy. The bond between mama and baby starts with those kicks, I think. Mom is the only one who knows Babe is moving unless she decides to share the experience by grabbing someone else's hand and putting it on the stomach to feel the next blow; but even then, I just don't think it is the same thing as feeling that movement inside your own body. There is something about that connection that is just magical. Like a preview to a film that you know you are going to adore, these kicks are the first sign (after the growing belly, of course) that you really are creating something - someone - here that is going to steal your heart forever.
While I was trying to fall asleep last night, BWNo2. was really on a roll. I mean, really! S/he was rolling around, tap dancing on my bladder and belly, moving more than I think I've felt to date. I almost had to laugh because somehow I missed the memo that my uterus had been transformed into a nightclub. But so as to not disturb my sleeping husband (who has been driven out of our bedroom twice already this week by my coughing), I kept my laughter in and put my hand on my tummy instead - all the better to feel the dance party (and the love) from the inside out.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Maiasaura Whozit? Whatzit?
As an English major, I put pressure on words. Not all words - just the ones I choose to use when I either speak or write. I have always felt the weight of words and the scrutiny of my audience on how I use those words. As if having two degrees in English means I must be perfect! But I'm not. I break conventions and start sentences with "but" and other conjunctions. I misspell. I even write in - gasp! - fragments from time to time! Mostly, though, I try to speak and write in the way I see the world and my world gets a little rambly and longwinded at times and it definitely includes words that I make up (one of the perks of those degrees, you see). So how does a longwinded, rambly writer like me transform those Faulkneresq sentences and thoughts into a blog with readable prose? I take the pressure of words and work it as best as I know how.
All of this rambling leads me back to the main point here. You all know what it means to muse over something or someone. How many of you, though, have ever encountered the word "maiasaura" before this blog? My Mac wants me to change it to "samuri" so even Apple is confused by this strange scientific word. I'm not big on scientific names, but I have a feeling the next few years of my life might be overrun by them if Harrison's current interests hold strong. You see, he is a big fan of trains. He is also a big fan of dinosaurs. So imagine our delight when we stumbled upon Jim Hensen's Dinosaur Train on PBS's kiddo programming! An instant favorite (and something my own brother would have adored as a kid), I (and, I would imagine, my son) have learned a lot from watching the Pteranodon family and their friends explore the Mesozoic Era.
One new dinosaur friend that caught my attention was the Maiasaura, a creature whose name literally means "good mother lizard." I found it fascinating that fossils could convey parental tendencies, but apparently it's possible! In thinking about my own herd/brood/nest/what-have-you when I was setting up this blog, I kept coming back to my attempts (successful and some not) at being a good mom; this in turn led me back to the good old DT and Maiasaura. I especially like that the word "lizard" is a part of the name's meaning because, well honestly - don't we all have lizard days from time to time? I figure I can work on finding balance between the good, the mother, and the lizard. Doing this might just help me live up to the Maiasaura's example.
So there you have it. The pressure of words, the pressure of naming a blog, and the pressure of being a parent...all of these are contributors to what awaits you here on the screen as you read this. Have I gone off the deep end, even for an English major? Perhaps. But at least I used alliteration to get me there!
All of this rambling leads me back to the main point here. You all know what it means to muse over something or someone. How many of you, though, have ever encountered the word "maiasaura" before this blog? My Mac wants me to change it to "samuri" so even Apple is confused by this strange scientific word. I'm not big on scientific names, but I have a feeling the next few years of my life might be overrun by them if Harrison's current interests hold strong. You see, he is a big fan of trains. He is also a big fan of dinosaurs. So imagine our delight when we stumbled upon Jim Hensen's Dinosaur Train on PBS's kiddo programming! An instant favorite (and something my own brother would have adored as a kid), I (and, I would imagine, my son) have learned a lot from watching the Pteranodon family and their friends explore the Mesozoic Era.
One new dinosaur friend that caught my attention was the Maiasaura, a creature whose name literally means "good mother lizard." I found it fascinating that fossils could convey parental tendencies, but apparently it's possible! In thinking about my own herd/brood/nest/what-have-you when I was setting up this blog, I kept coming back to my attempts (successful and some not) at being a good mom; this in turn led me back to the good old DT and Maiasaura. I especially like that the word "lizard" is a part of the name's meaning because, well honestly - don't we all have lizard days from time to time? I figure I can work on finding balance between the good, the mother, and the lizard. Doing this might just help me live up to the Maiasaura's example.
So there you have it. The pressure of words, the pressure of naming a blog, and the pressure of being a parent...all of these are contributors to what awaits you here on the screen as you read this. Have I gone off the deep end, even for an English major? Perhaps. But at least I used alliteration to get me there!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Sleeping Beauty
In an odd and rare turn of events, Harrison slept later than I did this morning. Usually it is his squawking and rambling that pulls me out of bed and into the day. This morning, however, it was my own chest constricting cough that had me up and around the house, waiting and wondering why I hadn't heard a peep yet from his room.
Like any good mom, I took advantage of the "extra" minutes and did little chores like filling his milk cup for breakfast and making my bed; I even snuck in a quick look at facebook just for kicks.. Then I got curious. 25 minutes of me banging around the house & he was still quiet. Was he OK? Was he breathing? I can't even number how many times I've asked myself that question in his two short years, but it always seems to be my go-to worry.
Opening the door to his bedroom, turning on no lights, I found my little man curled up in his crib, surrounded by the ever-growing number of animals that accompany him to sleep each night. He didn't wake up, so after the mandatory "Is his chest moving?" assessment, I just stopped to watch - something I don't get to do often because Harrison is hardly ever still during the day and does not need us to help him fall asleep at night.
Am I biased to say he was beautiful? Probably. What struck me most, though, was how much his sleeping position mirrored my own. Curled up on his right side, that poor right arm shmushed somewhere below, he had his left hand tucked up by his face, just under his chin - just as I do every night. His legs bent, he had not a pillow between them like his mama, but instead a teddy bear giving him that ever helpful spinal alignment that would make our chiropractor proud. I was amazed to see this sweet little mini me, so calm and so peaceful. I could have watched for hours.
In reality, the quiet lasted about five minutes, but you know that alone is impressive if you have ever met my active little boy. When he finally stirred, he first rolled his body back and assumed a little child's pose, rolled up like a ball in the middle of the crib. He then put his hand up to his hair, twirling it for a little while, just as he does during his bedtime routine when we are reading stories and he is clearly ready for a lullaby and lights out.
When he turned to look out into his dark room, he saw me sitting there beside the crib and instantly jumped up, grabbed Cow, and exclaimed, "Mama!" as he reached out to hug me (and get an assist in climbing out of the crib). I doubt there could be a better way to start any day.
Like any good mom, I took advantage of the "extra" minutes and did little chores like filling his milk cup for breakfast and making my bed; I even snuck in a quick look at facebook just for kicks.. Then I got curious. 25 minutes of me banging around the house & he was still quiet. Was he OK? Was he breathing? I can't even number how many times I've asked myself that question in his two short years, but it always seems to be my go-to worry.
Opening the door to his bedroom, turning on no lights, I found my little man curled up in his crib, surrounded by the ever-growing number of animals that accompany him to sleep each night. He didn't wake up, so after the mandatory "Is his chest moving?" assessment, I just stopped to watch - something I don't get to do often because Harrison is hardly ever still during the day and does not need us to help him fall asleep at night.
Am I biased to say he was beautiful? Probably. What struck me most, though, was how much his sleeping position mirrored my own. Curled up on his right side, that poor right arm shmushed somewhere below, he had his left hand tucked up by his face, just under his chin - just as I do every night. His legs bent, he had not a pillow between them like his mama, but instead a teddy bear giving him that ever helpful spinal alignment that would make our chiropractor proud. I was amazed to see this sweet little mini me, so calm and so peaceful. I could have watched for hours.
In reality, the quiet lasted about five minutes, but you know that alone is impressive if you have ever met my active little boy. When he finally stirred, he first rolled his body back and assumed a little child's pose, rolled up like a ball in the middle of the crib. He then put his hand up to his hair, twirling it for a little while, just as he does during his bedtime routine when we are reading stories and he is clearly ready for a lullaby and lights out.
When he turned to look out into his dark room, he saw me sitting there beside the crib and instantly jumped up, grabbed Cow, and exclaimed, "Mama!" as he reached out to hug me (and get an assist in climbing out of the crib). I doubt there could be a better way to start any day.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Throwing it out there
Why I haven't done this before is beyond me. I love to write. But perhaps I am too late to this game of blogging. Isn't it a bit overdone at this point? Will anyone stumble upon this and care to read? Respond? Does it matter if they do? Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps this shall be just for me - to see what I can create. To get my thoughts out of my head and down in text. To create a register of sorts to record my experiences as both a mother and a woman. Funny; I turn 30 next year and still have a hard time reconciling the word "woman" with myself. It sounds too stuffy or perhaps just too adult for how I view myself and my life, even though I am one of the most responsible people you'll ever meet. As it stands, I am just two months or so from adding to that responsibility level by having my second baby. I guess what I really want to do here is write about who I am because of my kids, but also to stay in conversation with who I am because of me. & maybe somewhere along the way, I'll find a way to live up to the maiasaura's example while being both Mama and Me.
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