Boo Boos (When One Outweighs Two)

Normally, two is greater than one. My son, a chip off the math teacher dad block, already understands this concept. So it was no surprise that last night, when he told me that he had two owies and Daddy only had one owie (how do you spell owey? owee? ouwie? Sheesh, I have no idea & Dictionary.com is failing me and my made up spellings. Anyone? Any help here?), he was implying that his boo boos "won" out over Ben's.

Normally, I would agree. Two is greater than one. But then you have exceptions, especially for times when two scrapes on the knee are being compared with one majorly split bottom lip.

Yep - this happened during bedtime last night.

I was in our room with Raegan, just finishing up nursing and thinking about getting her started with her own night time routine while Ben was across the hall, fishing up books and prayers with HD when I heard something. Something bad and something wrong.

I could tell it was Ben making the noise and the first thing I thought was "stomach bug" because it sounded like he was retching (sorry if that is TMI - just trying to be descriptive here). And then I couldn't tell if he was crying or moaning or what, so I started calling out to him, asking if he was OK. No surprise, but I didn't get a clear answer. By this point I could also hear Harrison crying, so I jumped up with Baby Girl and went running. While I was glad to see that there was in fact no one getting sick in the room, I was shocked to see Ben with his hands pressed to his mouth, blood on his face, still moaning and groaning like crazy.

While Ben stumbled to the bathroom where he could hang his head over the sink and inspect the damage, I tried to calm down Harrison (who had been thisclose to going to bed but was now quite awake and quite upset), who didn't appear to be hurt at all. He was just standing there holding his arsenal of four animals, crying. Once I knew he was more scared than hurt, I followed Ben to the bathroom and tried to get out of him what the world had just happened.

Apparently they had just been getting ready to have Harrison climb into his bed after reading and when Little Man went to scoop up his animals, he somehow decided he needed to sit back down, in Daddy's lap. Well, Daddy wasn't ready for that or didn't see it coming or something, because all of the sudden, Little Man's very hard skull was running into Daddy's bottom lip at full speed. No wonder for all of the moans and blood and tears!

While Ben worked on getting the bleeding to stop, I tried to get Harrison ready for bed (again). That's when he told me, quite seriously, that "I have two owies. Daddy has one." There was a lot of big eyed head nodding involved, as well, to make sure I understood the gravity of their wounds and that he, too deserved some serious love and attention for his. I smiled and said yes, that was true. One versus two. But pretty sure I have to side with my poor hubby on this one - I would have been shrieking and bawling for sure had it been my face to run into the back of Harrison's head! Once he got the gushing to stop, though, Ben handled everything else like a trooper and was even the one to go back in and get HD to sleep. Kudos on the quick bounce back, Mister!

Just curious - do they make Workman's Comp for parents???

Stuffed Animal Evolution

Meet Monkey and Cow (also known as Moo Cow), Harrison's Must Haves of stuffed animals in the last two years:

Beloved as these two are, there has been quite the evolution of animals in my Little Man's life and it would appear that his preferences are still developing. You see, Monkey and Moo Cow have some new associates.

It started with the addition of Chameleon:

Chameleon has been in our house pretty much since Day One of HD, and up until about a month ago, was wholly ignored. So why the sudden mustness of the haveness, I don't know, but OK, I thought - three animal friends are doable.

Then came Little Bear:

See where he gets his name? Little Bear came home with Harrison from his last visit to Grandma's house. Why? I really don't know, but apparently he is now just as crucial as the others. This is tricky because Little Bear is, well, little and has a way of disappearing through the slats of the toddler bed and getting lost in the blankets. Therefore, when Harrison demands Little Bear (along with the other three) before he can possibly consider sleep, it is sometimes a struggle to find said small stuffed animal and cram him into HD's full-to-bursting arms.

But here we are - almost three years of age and going strong with four sleep friends. I have to say, I kind of love that he has room in his arms and heart for so many lovies! All of this got me wondering, though, about the progression of Harrison's stuffed animal preferences....

Because I was a crib nazi when he was a baby, I did not allow any animals in his bed until he turned a year old. But that didn't mean that he didn't have some favorites before then. The first was, of course, a monkey. From a very early age Harrison was my little monkey and we loved everything monkey related (especially pants with monkey faces on the feet made by Carter's. Loved! this eventually progressed to Robeez shoes with monkey faces, too. Loved!). The first stuffed monkey, though, is not the same as the one pictured above. He was a replacement bought in case something ever happened to this guy:

That's Harrison at approximately four months with Monkey #1. They were buds for the next eight to ten months and then somehow, the transition from to New Monkey happened even though Monkey #1 is still alive and well.

What I can't seem to remember, though, is when Cow came into the picture. I remember buying him with my mom at Walmart, possibly over Harrison's first Easter weekend, because he is a puppet and we thought that Harrison (at nine months?) needed some puppets. OK. Sure!

So I went looking through pictures and here is the first evidence of HD's love for Cow, circa 14 months of age:

Note the lack of first haircut on Little Man and how vibrantly white Cow is - whoa! I've given Cow a few washes in his time, but looking at this picture makes me think, once again, that it is rather unfortunate that my son picked a white stuffed animal to be his No. 1. But that is what Cow has been for every night and nap, and while traveling everywhere from Milford and Mission Hill to Chicago, and not to mention, on many a driving nap (Monkey and his bear neck pillow have gone on those, too).

Do you see how in the first pictures Cow's head doesn't really stay up so well? That's because his little neck has been squeezed thin by being tucked in to Harrison's little elbow time after time like this:

I have no idea where the animal evolution will go from here. I have a feeling that it will be Cow and Monkey who have the longest staying power, but perhaps Chameleon and Little Bear (or some other random stuffies) will surprise me by hanging in there, that is, if we don't lose LB first! All I know is that I love my HD as much as he loves his Moo Cow and Monkey, although I'm glad I have learned proper carrying techniques of my beloved so as to not squish his little neck!

Rocking Chair Captive

Thanks to the sleep antics of my precious little daughter, I got a lovely little vocabulary lesson today when trying to remember (in the midst of mommybrain) the distinct differences between a hostage and a captive. Now why am I comparing anything in relationship to my beloved offspring to a hostage or a captive? Well, in the last week we went from two steps forward to about five steps back on getting her to sleep without nursing. I thought - I really thought - I had made progress by working so hard for two weeks to put her down for naps and for night without the aid of milk. Granted, I was having to walk and bounce and sing to her for 10 minutes and then rock her for another 5 or 10 each time, but hey, it was a good workout (I have killer arms these days & the rest of me isn't doing too bad either considering I have zero time for "real" exercise) AND it was working. I was actually able to get her in the crib and have her stay there for various amounts of time (sometimes even up to two hours!).

But then she got another cold the weekend of Ben's graduation, so the last week saw us reverting to Do Whatever Works, Even if it Means NURSING to get her to sleep. *Sigh* So that's what I did. But I was determined not to let it be a complete backslide, so I've been working the last few days to get back to the wiggle jiggle settle routine that we established earlier in the month. No dice. Well, dice in the sense that I can get her to sleep, but no dice in that I can't get her to stay that way as soon as I go to put her in the crib. Pretty much any time I try to set her down, her eyes pop open and usually they are of the Owl Nature that we experienced back in her newborn days - big and so-not-going-to-sleep eyes.

Actually, in some ways it has been worse than before. Before I could at least stand up from the rocker and she would still be asleep. Yesterday I couldn't even do that without her stirring, and sometimes that slight movement was enough to bring full on fussing, crying, or waking! What the world?! 

Several times in the last few days I have spent an hour or more trying to get her to sleep and out of my arms and into the crib because the minute I set her down, I have to collect her right back into my arms and head back to the rocking chair. Hence my vocabulary lesson on the difference between a hostage and a captive.

Thanks to my trusted guide, Dictionary.com, I now know that a hostage is a person "given or held as security for the fulfillment of certain conditions or terms, promises, etc., by another" whereas a captive is simply a "prisoner." I went with Rocking Chair Captive because I highly doubt Raegan would trade my arms (or her daddy's) for anything at this point. She so clearly wants to sleep in those two places only that no ransom would suffice, making us not hostages but captives of her sleeping preferences. 

Now, thankfully we haven't had to sit up in the rocking chair all night with her; eventually we do get her to go to sleep and stay that way in her crib, but Oh My Goodness, it is work getting there. One of the trickiest steps in the process, I think, is getting my one arm out from underneath her head. I can get the one that holds her bottom half out with little problem (usually), but that darn side that is holding her head and shoulders is next to impossible to remove without disturbing her. (I would call her Sleeping Beauty in this moment, but I have adamantly said we are not going down the Princess Route, so I had better not start with any princess nicknames, eh?) Nope - so tricky is the arm/hand out from under the neck/head maneuver that I have found myself, many a time, wishing I could just chop my arm off at the elbow and leave it there with her. Seriously! In the moment, that seems like such a good solution.

But then I wonder how I would walk, wiggle, rock her to sleep the next time and I decide instead to keep my arm intact. 

And when the Owl Eyes pop open, yet again, I at least try to thank my lucky stars that they are such very pretty eyes.

 

 

Double Standard, Baby

Poor Mr. Harrison. There are just certain things in life that are far more acceptable and cute when done by babies rather than by toddlers. 

Take for instance the act of kicking. Seeing as we grow very wiggly and very active babies, Raegan kicks All. The. Time. She kicks her feet while sitting in her car seat or standing in her ExerSaucer. She sometimes manages to kick while she is nursing! And she really goes to town when she is on her belly on the floor. Sometimes she goes into Super Baby mode where all four limbs are off the ground and both legs are moving so fast, it is as if she is Belly Running. Yes, I think we've just coined a new term in Baby Development. Let's add that to the survey at the doctor's office!
             Question: Does your baby pick up her legs and let her feet fly back and forth furiously, as if running, while on her belly?
             Answer: Yes! Yes, she does! Score!

So yes, in Little Miss, we celebrate kicking. It is cute. "Yay, You! You're kicking" we say. Or we commentate: "Kick! Kick! Kick!" in very happy, sing-songy voices.

Imagine Harrison's confusion, then, when he kicks and gets reprimanded for such. But the truth of the matter is, I do not like it when he kicks. At the table it is annoying. I don't need the constant banging while trying to inhale my food, thanks. And when I'm changing his diaper, it is painful. I cannot even tell you how many bruises I've had on my arms and legs these last few months because he is squirming/kicking during diaper changes. And while I go back and forth on "he should know better" (yes, I know, I know. You aren't supposed to say that to your kids. I get it.), I really do think that it doesn't help that Raegan gets to kick but he does/should not.

Take another example: blowing raspberries/bubbles and/or spitting. Again, when she does it, it is cute and innocent enough (except when she was blowing bubbles with the medicine I was trying to give her. That was NOT cute!). But when he spits, I sometimes get so mad, I could spit!

Same thing goes for screaming and crying. Thankfully this doesn't happen often, but there have been several occasions when Raegan has been upset, so Harrison decides to chime in with his own pseudo screams or cries. Not sure if he's trying to get attention or drown her out or both, but ugh. Fake screams and cries are just as bad and loud as the real ones, so I'll take neither, thanks! But how do you explain that she's a baby and cannot help it? Again, I am reminded of the conversation I've had with several friends that if I didn't have a second baby, I would still be looking at my first as just that - a baby. But since I do have two, I expect the older one to behave in ways that, because of his actual age, probably aren't realistic most days. Comprehending and controlling behaviors like this would be one such example.

The final double standard that I see between my children centers, again, on the mouth. Harrison sees Raegan putting everything and anything in her mouth and chewing on it like crazy, so every now and then, he tests the waters to see what he can get away with gumming or chomping. The answer is, not much, if I can help it. So again, the baby gets to bite but biting is the biggest NO-NO for HD.

*Sigh* No wonder we go around and around some days on what constitutes as "OK" behavior and what it means to be "nice"....he really must be wondering why OK and nice for Raegge are not the same for him. I try to tell him that babies do those things, but he is a big boy, so he should not, but I think I've got to come up with something a little more creative. Because apparently, being a big boy suddenly doesn't seem so glamorous when it means you don't get to do all the really fun stuff. Trust me, kiddo; I get it. Being a big kid (and an adult for that matter) comes with some pretty un-fun (not a word, I know) expectations sometimes! But try explaining that to a toddler!

Oh, Happy Day!

Today, eleven years after he started, Ben completed his third degree from Doane College. In fact, I think it is quite possible that he is the first person to get a degree from each of the school's three campuses (Crete - Undergrad; Lincoln - Curriculum and Instruction; Grand Island - Educational Leadership). In other words, he is a Tiger to the core and we couldn't be more proud of him.

Today has been a long time coming and we are happy about it for so many reasons. For one, Ben has really enjoyed his latest degree program and is walking away from this experience with a wealth of knowledge. I watched him engage and work so intently on school issues with these classes; he is a better educator because of them. He also gained some great friendships and colleagues from the cadre he has been working with for the last two years and I know some of these people will be part of his life for years and years to come. Above all, for me anyway, is the fact that now Ben can finally get a bit of a break from taking so many classes. I have been more than happy to support him in his endeavors, but I can't pretend that I'm not just a wee bit excited about having more of his time and attention for us now that his classes are all done.

Even though both kids appear to be coming down with colds (again!), we obviously made the trek to Crete today to witness Ben's graduation and hooding ceremony. He's been at State Track in Omaha the last two days, and when I talked to him on the phone last night about Harrison's sniffles, he told me it wasn't a big deal if we came to the ceremony or not. 'Scuse me?! Not a big deal?! First off, we didn't go to his first Masters graduation three years ago when I was preggers with HD. Secondly, this one has been such a part of our life the last few years that I begged to differ on the bigness of its dealness. And because I'm a supportive (and ever-so-slightly stubborn) wifey, by golly, we made it!

It was windy and chillier than expected, which is probably not going to help the colds situation for anyone, but fortunately I had lots of help from the grandparents for getting through graduation.

I am so glad that the four people who have loved and supported us through all of this were there today, and I'm also glad I didn't have to entertain/wrangle my children by myself in such a large crowd! It also gave me the freedom to walk around to get pictures and see the actual hooding since our seats were waaaaaaay in a back corner.

We got situated just in time to go find Ben during the processional. Harrison was thrilled to see Daddy for the first time since Friday morning. I, too, was thrilled, but also a bit emotional. Part of it is Doane. Being there again for a graduation is special. Most of it, though, is Ben. For as stressed and stretched thin as we've been lately, it melted my heart a bit to see him smile and wave at us as he walked by with the other graduates. He is, I think, as proud of us as we are of him.

Watching his hood going on was another great moment because it really solidified the fact that he put in all the work and now has even more options as he continues his career in education. The passion and ideas in that man's brain will take him (and us) amazing places, I think.

Because I was taking pictures, I found out later that my mom and Harrison, who had gone on a couple little walks during the ceremony, ended up down near the front in time to see Ben receive his diploma. Upon seeing this, Harrison proudly declared, "Daddy Wins!" I couldn't agree more, Honey!

And what winner doesn't need a high five on his way by during the recessional?

Or a big hug when it is all said and done?

Yes, yes, yes. We are so happy and grateful on this day.

For learning. For love. For each other.

Now, of course this all comes with a teensy bit of competitive salt. Ben's now teasing me that he has one more degree than I do. He can pile up as many Master's Degrees as he likes; until he gets a Ph.D., we're still even in my books! But maybe that's why I teach English and he teaches math!  

Da Da Da? I Dan't Think So!

Last week brought us Raegan's six month well baby visit. As we suspected, she is amazing and lovely. Really, all is quite well. Doc gave us the go ahead to start solids, but I'm in no rush. She's over 16 lbs. with chunky little legs, so I don't think she's wasting away by any means. He does think it would help her sleep longer at night but whatever. We'll get there (solids and more sleep) when we get there.

One little red flag, though, came up during her visit. As usual, before going back to the exam room (where we always sit and wait for years, it seems), I filled out the little four or five page survey about how she's developing. Also as usual, she hit most of the marks in the "yes, already doing that" column. The one "Not yet" that I marked, though, really caught me off guard.

So far I have considered Raegan to be quite vocal/verbal/noisy. She is making sounds all the time and most of them are quite loud, so why wouldn't I think she was vocal/verbal/noisy?? But when I got to the survey question, "Does Baby make 'da' 'ba' 'ga' (and some other sound) noises?" I had to sit back and go, "Huh. No, she does not!" When I thought about it some more, I realized that I have mistaken  her constant squeaks and squawks as talking. I don't know that she has ever made a "da" "ba" "ga" (or some other sound) noise in her little six month life!

Of course this sent me into developmental panic mode (not really, but it was still a little concerning, so I tried to game plan a solution anyway). What to do? The girl must learn to speak as proper six-month-olds speak!

Language Lessons began immediately after we got home.

Me: Ba, ba, ba, ba? Can you say, "ba, ba" Raegan?

Raegan: *grins* and then squeals!!

Me: How about Da? Can you say, "da, da, da, da"?

Raegan: *smirks* *raises eyebrow mischievously* (just like her brother and just like her uncle, John) and LAUGHS!!!

Me: Oh, my. I can see this is going nowhere. And you just turned 15.

So there you have it. Clearly she gets it, or at least understands a lot of what I'm saying, and has decided that she will already go about this (talking, the world, life in general) in her own way. Will she be heard? You betcha she will, because the girl doesn't just squeak and squawk - she does so with GUSTO!

Wasn't I Better at Doing This Last Time??

Goodness! There are so many joys about having two kiddos. My favorite is watching them as they start to interact more and more. HD & RL pretty much just have to make eye contact these days and one or the other or both start laughing. This is both wonderful and a bit terrifying. What they will conspire when she starts walking and talking, I can only imagine!

But, Goodness! There are some major challenges to having two kiddos as well. Except, it it's not even the challenges that I'm thinking about. It's the fact that there were some things that I was just sooooo much better at as a mom when I just had one tiny tot in my care.

For one, I was better about keeping a schedule for the babe. By the age Raegan is now, Harrison was on a regular nap schedule, even if he was never a great napper in the sense that he never slept as long as I would have liked (or as long as other kids). This schedule continued and was upheld as Law until, well, Baby No. 2 arrived! Now it seems that I can hardly keep either child on a regular schedule. I mean, we still eat meals at regular, normal times, but that is about it. Naps are hit and miss and the rest of most days comes at us at will. I've gone from one extreme to the other, I guess!

Another thing I was WAY better at before was reading to my children. I can't believe this has happened because books are such a huge priority in my life, but dang, if it isn't hard to squeeze that in. Between meals and feedings and nap attempts and diaper changes and play time, it seems that our many books are collecting a bit of dust on the shelves. I still try to read the fun, energetic books to the kids throughout the day when I can, but really, reading anything to Raegan is a handful. I mean that literally. She is so stinkin' grabby that trying to hold her and a book while keeping her from attacking the book requires more arms than I have. (Side note: more arms. That is what every mother really needs!) She wants to hold it. She wants to eat it. She wants to toss it. She doesn't so much want to listen to it!

Now I haven't completely failed my children in terms of literary exposure; Harrison, of course, still gets his handful of books read to him before bed. But you see, that was part of his routine...before every nap and before bed each night, we read to him. So Miss Raegan is behind on books because, up until recently there has been no routine. I've just been nursing her to sleep, so there was never time for a book before lights out, or at least I never tried to read a book to her while nursing. (Again - more arms, please!)

Which leads me to the third thing that I rocked last time and am sort of sucking at this time, except, maybe it is item 2.5 because it seems to be a combination of the two points from above: establishing a nap routine. Early on we set up our diaper, books, lights out, song, go in the crib, go to sleep routine for Harrison. We followed it during the day and at night. Religiously. I honestly think that part of the problem in recent months (as baby came, and his bed changed, and the move happened, and track started) has been that his routine got a bit of a shake up as well. We haven't gone back to a tried and true always the same every time sort of thing and I think he (we) is (are) feeling the effects of that. But yeah, with Raegan and the whole nursing to sleep debacle, there has been nothing beyond the boob to cue her that it is time to sleep. PROBLEM! While I have enjoyed the extra snuggle time in the rocking chair with her, it became apparent a few weeks ago that this had to change.

So, ever so slowly, we have started establishing a pre-sleep routine for Little Girl. Wowzers, it has not been easy and she doesn't seem to care for it, but I keep telling myself that we will get there and eventually this will work. At this point, it feels like she might take another six months to figure it out, but so be it. In six months, I'll be doing a happy dance because I no longer have to rock/walk/wiggle/sing her to sleep!

Now, let's not crawl in the cave too much here...of course there are things that I am way better at now that I have two kids. Carrying a diaper bag (or two), my bottle of water, the loaded car seat, HD's sippy cup, and the van keys, all while holding a toddler's hand? I've got that DOWN. Allowing my children to occupy themselves instead of hovering over every single second of the day? Yep, I'm mastering that as well. Loving both children to the moon and back (even on the days when I'd like to send them to moon)? No problem!

Mama's Tradition

For my first two Mother's Days, Ben was very thoughtful and got me personalized gifts that included pictures of my sweet, sweet Harrison. Last year (on the second of those two days), we went to Earl May on Mother's Day and spent a small fortune on plants for my planters that sit by our garage. So I gave Ben a free pass for the future, telling him he could just buy me flowers to plant every year and I would be one happy mama.

Fast forward one year.  Now we have two sweet, sweet reasons to celebrate Mother's Day, so we made the trek to Menard's this time (slightly less fortune involved) and Ben entertained the kids while I picked out my plants. Now, I am no green thumb, but planters are one thing I can in fact handle. And since I started doing them several years ago, the plants have even survived. The whole summer! (Well, there was one year that the watering got away from me and the planters scorched, but you know - I'm learning). Planters are great though and I love picking out the different pieces that will go together in my pots, even though I pretty much always pick variations of the same things.

You see, this whole planter thing is another skill I learned from my mama. She is the one with a green thumb and has always had beautiful flower beds, a great garden, and gorgeous planters around her house in the summer. The first time I did my own planters, she was here to help me select the pots and plants. Since then I have filled them on my own, but I still follow her basic formula: some tall things, some dangling things, some green things, and some colorful things. Here is what this year's creation looks like:

I'm getting to the point that I can throw these together pretty quickly and today I did so while making rice to go with supper and doing my best to keep Harrison from being too much help with the planting. I distracted him with my super cool empty containers which he carried over to his sand table and was doing who knows what with once they got there. I'm guessing there is a fair amount of sand no longer in the sand table!

What I love about this little tradition we are building is the interest Harrison took in it this year. Besides hijacking my empties, he really did want to help plant my "beautiful flowers" that we got for "Mudder's Day" as he calls it. If you think about it, in the case of my planters, this is both cute and accurate!

After I got everything in the pots, I filled up our two watering cans and he got to help me water them in a bit.

Like the cow watering can? We just got it because Harrison has a major thing for cows. It is missing an ear and is surprisingly beat up for being new, but it trickles water very slowly which is great for toddlers because he can't flood anything while watering it. I figure it is also a good lesson in patience for him. :)

Apparently my eyes are a little bigger than my pots because I ended up with a few too many sun annuals purchased. That's OK, though, because our new house has some space out front that is decidedly random in terms of the plants that reside there, so throwing a few more in the mix is really no big deal. In fact, I wonder if that is what the previous owners did as well.

I tried to get Harrison to help me with this, but it was too close to supper time (i.e. too close to bed time) and he was too tired to really cooperate. Instead I ended up digging in a few more plants while he played, again, with the empty containers.

We have a few more to add yet, but we'll try those tomorrow in hopes that he might actually want to get in on the planting.

Now I almost had him with the watering again after I put these in, but somehow he got our watering cans confused.

In case you can't tell, this is my "How the Flip Diddle Did I End up with the Cow Can?!" face. I guess mamas can sometimes use a lesson in patience as well!

Happy Mother's Day! Enjoy your own traditions, whatever they may be!

Book Overload, Perhaps?!

It seems that the only reading I am doing these days involves parenting books. I distinctly remember going through this same sort of phase after Harrison was born, so last summer and fall, I stocked up on novels from the library and soaked in as much "for me" reading as I could. You know, the really guilty pleasure kind of reading where very little thinking is required. Good thing because there is no time for leisure reading now!

Sadly, though, even my parental reading isn't getting my full attention as I find myself trying to read not one or two of these helpful guides at time, but more like four or five. And the more I read, the more I wonder, what on earth am I doing to myself?!?! (yes, that is a double interrobang)

According to my mom, she and my dad read no parenting or baby books. Seeing as they are amazing parents, I am flabbergasted by this. Why didn't they read parenting books?! How did they just DO it?! If they had read books, I could read the same ones and have hopes of becoming the same kind of amazing parent! But, like their amazing cooking skills where they don't measure and it still turns out AWEsome, I cannot take their example and break it into a Type A/by-the-book formula that can be duplicated. Nope. Apparently I come from Just Wing It Stock which is so funny because I am so bad at just winging it. Hence the four or five parenting books at once.

Perhaps if I decided to wing a book or two out the window, I'd be better off. See, the problem is, I like what I read in each one. They all sound so smart. So right. And here is what I start thinking in my head as I read: If I just do these five or six or ten things, my life will be so much easier. My children will behave. They will sleep. Yes! That's the ticket! That sounds good. Let me try that approach. We must do this. We must not do this. If only we remove/add/change/duplicate/avoid this, we will be The. Best. Parents. Ever. It also doesn't help that books are like air to me, so when I read something I often take it as a vital fact. Perhaps my unhealthy obsession with the printed word is the problem here, eh? Sure. Let's blame it on that...you know, as I sit here typing all my wordy words on my blog about parenting! Nope, no irony there!

So, yes. I do all this reading and believing and then I start to forget. What did that book say? What did that doctor or psychologist or expert or whatever-she-is recommend? Why didn't I write that down? Or highlight it? Or dog ear the page? How do I do half of this approach with part of that one while avoiding this or that MAJOR error from that one?! I don't think I have enough room on my refrigerator to post all the little reminders. Maybe I should start writing them on the walls? Not sure that even with this new, bigger house, there would be enough room for all the "rules" that all of these books make me think I should be following.

Gee. I wonder why I'm hearing birds in my minivan?!

Let's not forget the other complication here. If I don't have time to read all of these books I am currently reading, my teaching/coaching/taking grad classes husband certainly does not have time for them. So that means that my tired brain is trying to absorb all of this lovely, uber helpful information and then relate it to him. Brilliant. So I read a chapter out of one book, decide it is The Answer and then share it with Ben. Then a few days later I read another chapter out of another book and decide that it, too, is The Answer. But somehow it doesn't quite jive with the other book. So now what? What to do to make each new Answer fit???

Truly, I bring this upon myself. Most of these books are ones that I asked for, bought myself, or borrowed from a friend. I cannot fault my family and friends for supporting my reading habit because I have fueled it completely. It's funny though, because now, when a family member, friend or even random acquaintance starts talking about another "new" parenting book that I just "have" to read, my spirit soars a bit and I think, "Yes! New Answers!" Then my spirit sinks a bit as I think, "Oh, Crap. New Answers!" 

I think what I am really learning through all of this reading of multiple books at once is that parenting is hard. It is also a bit of a crap shoot. I think that is why so many books about it exist in the first place. Each kid and each family is a little bit different, so the kicker is that there are no Answers. There are only theories, and what works for one may not work for another.

So why I keep torturing myself with these books, thinking that they will make all day every day easy breezy is beyond me. I think I need to go back to (trashy) novels.

Talk Radio Bird Song

Growing up, I heard a lot of "You look just like your mom!" and it's true. I resemble my beautiful mother in many ways. What is also true is that I'm a total daddy's girl...so much so, that when I speak to him, I still call him "Daddy." And while we may not have been hearing for years that we look alike (Side Note: I do have his upper lip; a little known fact that I myself did not learn until high school during the one and only time he shaved off his mustache - Mom made him grow it back), I have come to learn that there are many ways in which we are very similar.

One such similarity is the love we share for talk radio. Now my dad is a morning show/humor kind of talk radio while I am more NPR talk radio, but the gist is the same: we both get a kick out listening to the goings on in the world via radio. We both also have a tendency to call in to talk radio shows. For years my dad has been doing this - requesting songs, making comments, winning stuff. I think one time he even won tickets for a plane ride around Yankton, or maybe he did that twice? I don't know, he's done this so much I can't keep it all straight! What I do know is that cool as it is to call in and win stuff, the best prize, in my dad's eyes, is being ON the radio. (Second Side Note: I think in another life my dad was a pilot and in the one before that he was a DJ.)

While my dad is the pro, my own call in tendency is just starting. I actually get nervous about speaking in front of others, even on the radio, so I'm not so quick to dial like my dad, but last fall I made my first call to no less than one of my favorite NPR shows - Car Talk. That's right. I love Click and Clack. They make me laugh every time I listen to them, probably because, in some ways, they remind me of the other funny old farts in my life (Grandpa Cliff!). Our Chrysler had been making some funny noises for some time, so I called and left a message for them (sound effects included). Sadly they never called me back to have me on the show. Here's the magic, though, of Click and Clack and talk radio - even though I didn't make it on air, the noise went away!

Fast forward to this spring. As many of you know, I have been driving my kiddos for naps for some time now. Not every day and not always long trips - sometimes I come back and park in the driveway while they snooze in the back - but I have logged some serious miles this spring on quiet Nebraska highways. Well, they should be quiet, but something is amiss, and as far as I can tell, there are four possible answers. Either I have completely lost my marbles (not unlikely), the ditches in NE are full of song birds (I don't know - could be), NETRadio has begun playing bird songs over top of their afternoon classics (odd choice), OR there is a bird living in my minivan (Oh. Good. God. I hope not!). But yes, I kid you not: while driving, I keep hearing birds!

At first I thought the bird noises were just happening when I slowed down to make a turn (hence the ditches theory), but then I started noticing it while just cruising down the highway (hence the NETRadio theory). And now it just seems to happen randomly, so unfortunately that leaves me with the lost marbles or bird in the van theory. Now, some you may also know of my insane/intense fear of birds, so as you can imagine the thought of a bird in my car is not welcomed. Well, song birds don't really freak me out, but still. The irony of all this is not lost on me.

So anyway, I have a feeling that another call to Car Talk is in my future. Sadly I am not talented like my brother and can't whistle very well, but I have been practicing the noise around the house (yep, lost marbles sounding more and more likely), so maybe I'll be able to replicate it well enough to get on the show this time. And if not, maybe it will just go away anyway. That would be nice because I really don't want to go looking under the hood for stowaways!

Going off the Rails

Something about a screaming baby/child puts me on the fast train to Crazy Town. Correction. Something about my screaming baby/child puts me on the fast train to Crazy Town. I don't actually mind when other babies or kids are crying/screaming. OK, I'm not a huge fan of it, but it certainly doesn't get my heart racing or blood pumping the way they do when one of my precious little bundles goes over the deep edge.

In fact, sometimes I think I am better at handling the freak outs of other people's children than I am my own. Wha??? I don't know if this is because I can sympathize with the other parent because, Lord, have I been there, or if I just have more patience because I don't feel like the world is ending if I don't hurry up and quick stop this crying, screaming, sobbing, sometimes kicking mess. Not that I don't want to help, but you know - my value as a parent isn't riding on it like it seems to be when my own Little is spiraling out of control.

Ah, control....something I once loved and now know so very little of in my daily life. Don't get me wrong, I still try to control as much as I can, but as my dear, sweet father has been telling me from the day I went into labor with Harrison (12 days early), my children are "driving the bus." And, of course, he is right. It just so happens that some days that bus also takes us straight to Crazy Town!

Really. It is remarkable how a grown woman, accomplished in many ways, can melt down just as fast as her toddler or infant when faced with long hours alone in the house with the kids, no naps, and yes, screaming. Wait. That's not remarkable. That is reasonable!

As you can about imagine, we've had some really long days the last couple of weeks. Let's just say that May 20th cannot come soon enough in my world. Dave Matthews may tell me (wisely) that the future is no place to place my better days, but by God, I will be doing cartwheels around the house after May 20th. Ben will then be done with teaching for the year, State Track will be over, AND he will have graduated with his (second! yea, you, Honey!) Master's from Doane. CANNOT WAIT! But until then, I'm going to have to figure out what on earth to do about the screaming.

To Harrison's credit, he doesn't actually scream much. Whining is another story, and there is definite crying/fussing/throwing of fits in a given day, but thankfully he doesn't (typically) haul off and yell. Raegan, on the other hand, has been exercising her lungs lately and I'm about done with that. The problem is, I've been trying to get her to take naps without nursing because it seemed that was the only way she wanted to sleep during the day, but it turns out she just wants to be in my arms. I mean, yes, she'd rather be nursing while she's there, but that is not the only issue. The last two days I've endured 15+ minutes of holding her screaming little swaddled self in my arms, while pacing the floor (just like we did when she was a newborn), only to have her wake back up (& scream!) the minute I try to set her down in the swing/her crib/our bed.

Oofda.

Except "oofda" is NOT what is going through my head in those moments. Oh, no. Lately the monologue running through my brain, at times anyway, has me wondering if I'm developing Tourettes or something. I don't know what it is; I just start to get frantic when she starts screaming like that. I sent a text to a friend after this morning's disaster wondering what the point of trying to avoid crying-it-out is if she's going to flip out while I'm freaking holding her. Is it really different? It certainly isn't any fun to have the screaming 12 inches from my face/ear, I can tell you that!

But I do want to avoid CIO, if we can. We did it with Harrison and yes, it worked....until we took him out of his crib, that is. By letting him figure it out on his own by crying to sleep at 7 months, we taught him to sleep, so long as he was contained. Now, as we enter the last fourth of The Year of Two (but who's counting?), we have so many sleep/bed/staying put issues, and I have to wonder a bit if it is all connected. My hope is that by not forcing RL to CIO, we can avoid some of this circus when she's a toddler.

But seriously. The screaming has got to go. Mama doesn't really need any help in the crazy department!