How Big Your Brave Is

All summer long, Harrison had a job to do: pick the color of my toe nail polish whenever I decided to change it. Seeing as I was uber-pregnant for the first half of summer, there weren't many times when his services were needed because, let's face it, trying to reach my toes was too dang hard to do! After Lincoln arrived, however, Harrison got to have a lot more say as I changed them from blue to pink to red to blue again.

A few weeks ago, when I painted my toes blue, I warned Ben that if Harrison ever asked to have his nails painted, I would do it (it was a really fabulous bright blue, just the color I knew HD would LOVE, which is what made me anticipate his asking). My straight-laced, Nebraska farm boy, math teacher husband just shrugged and said, "Whatever. Half the boys at the high school wear nail polish" and that was that. None of this "that's just for girls" business that is such nonsense or "That's so gay" which is beyond nonsense and is just poor use of the English language, not to mention, flat out wrong (For the record, my husband would never say either of those because he is wiser and kinder than that, but you know, some people might have those reactions and to them I would say, "Whatever. It's nail polish. The kid is just exploring the world and wants to be like his lovely Mama. Deal with it.").

Much to my surprise, Harrison did not ask to have his nails painted blue when he saw mine the next day, but that was fine. I didn't want it to be about me; it was about him, if he wanted it.

Flash forward to Sunday night when I decided I needed to get rid of the blue and took my polish off as Ben was getting the big kids ready for bed. Harrison saw what I was doing and wanted to pick out my color. "Black!" he said excitedly when I asked what I should do next, and since I didn't have actual black, I picked the next best thing - sparkly charcoal gray left over from last year's Halloween costume (Christina Aguilera from The Voice, in case you missed the totally awesome photos on Facebook). HD approved and, this time, asked if he could have his toes done too.

Since it was already bedtime, I didn't want to take too long and told him I would do his big nail which I gave one quick coat. The only thing Ben rolled his eyes about, when he saw us, was my choice of timing. Right before bed? So he's going to be all concerned about his toe and not sleeping? But it dried quickly enough and was not a problem. Of course, Raegan was watching all this and started hollering, "Me too! My toe. Me too!" but there was no time for that.

Except for at home, Harrison's toes have been covered since then, so there's been no one to notice or comment on this little beauty experiment. Tomorrow, at preschool, that will change as they have swimming lessons. Which leads me to his other big toe and those of his sister.

Tonight, at dinner, as we talked about the upcoming day, Harrison said that he was scared about swimming. He missed out last time because of his head injury which he actually considered to be a bonus of the stitches. He's just never been very fond of the lessons, but he always does them (even though we tell him he can sit out if he really wants), which I think is very brave. So when he mentioned being scared, I asked him if he had anything on his toe, perhaps, that he could see tomorrow to remind him that Mama and Daddy love him and think he is the bravest and best boy in the world. He got a big grin on his face and I heard his shoe hit the floor. Then he brought his foot up to the seat of his chair and moved it so his toes just peeked out and I could see the polish. Then the smart little bugger, who has been asking the last two days if we could change his color (I told him it stays on for longer than a day or two!) said, "Maybe we could paint my other toe a different color so I could be really brave!"

And there you have it. Outsmarted by a four-year-old, who indeed got to pick out another color for his other big toe. And his sister got in on the action, too, having both of her big toe nails painted the same Brave Blue (which is what I just thought to call it but will totally be talking about at breakfast tomorrow). Again, Ben was on board, but there was some eye rolling when I asked him to help me blow on the toes to help them dry. I have a head cold, people. I don't have enough oompf for doing full pedicures on my own!

Obviously I have no idea if this will help at tomorrow's swimming lessons or not, but I figure it is worth a shot. And I'll also be curious to hear if anyone says anything to Harrison about his toes that he wants to share with me. He doesn't always give me many details about school, so I may never know, but of course I hope that this will not bring about any teasing for him. Because, quite frankly, I want him to know that it doesn't matter what color his toe nails are. He is awesome and brave and we will always love him and be here to remind him of that (or paint his nails if it helps him remember it when he is away from us.)

P.S. If you're wondering about the title of this post, check out this awesome song called "Brave" from Sara Bareilles:

Young at Art

We love our local Children's Museum somethin' fierce. We may go in spurts between visits, but since we first joined three-ish years ago, we have love love LOVED being able to take our kids there to play, hang out with friends, or participate in the various programs it offers. And by "it" I totally mean Miss Deb, the director.

As soon as wee-little Harrison realized that Miss Deb at "The Museum" knew his name (and it never takes her long to learn the little one's names), he was hooked. I could get him to do pretty much anything (like get in his car seat or pick up the toys he'd been playing with at The Museum, etc.) if I just so much as mentioned her name. "Harrison, Miss Deb is waiting for us. You'd better get in your seat!" "Hey, Buddy. Let's help Miss Deb and pick up these toys" and viola - it would happen! And really, that same admiration has continued ever since because Miss Deb has continued to be there for our kids, to ask them questions, and see how they're doing whenever she sees them. It's awesome (and again, by "it", you know who I mean).

One of the programs that we did with Harrison was the Young at Art Toddler Time, starting the fall after he turned two. For three weeks of most months of the school year, a Tuesday morning art class is offered that includes stories and songs, and dances or games and, of course, art. Although Harrison's never been a huge fan of coloring (he does OK with painting), he always seemed to enjoy these classes. We didn't get to do too many of them, though, because Baby Sister came along and life got crazy and well, you know the rest.

Flash forward to this fall when Baby Sister is about to turn two. I got Deb's email about the September art class and thought, "Excellent! Raegan would love that!" But what to do with HD? He's not at preschool on Tuesdays, and I didn't think he would just hang out by himself in The Museum while she was doing class (and Lincoln was hopefully sleeping in his stroller or on me in the Moby). But never fear - Miss Deb had the answer! He could join the class, too. I was done and done; we signed up immediately!

Last week was our first go at art class, and as you may remember, we had a rather chaotic morning. I almost thought about scraping class for the day and just starting this week, but then we tossed everyone in the van and I got them there just on time (OK, maybe a little late, but such is life). And I am sooooooo glad we made the effort.

Harrison was fantastic. For a kid who had just put a small hole in his head, he did amazing. He lead his sister to the mat for songs and games. He encouraged her to sing and wave and made sure she got a colored shape during the activity. When it was time to get their art on, he lead her to a table and made sure she was next to him. And the whole dang thing just melted my heart. He has always been a fan of his baby sister, just as they both are of their new baby brother, but seeing their bond in action was breathtaking.

This Tuesday we had our second round of class and again, Harrison was there to make sure his Raegs had a place to sit on the rug and a spot to work at the art table. Whereas last week she seemed a little unsure of what was going on, it was obvious she felt more comfortable this time (based on her wiggles and grins) and I know I have her brother to thank for that. I am also so thankful we have an outlet here in town like The Museum where my kids can let their creativity shine and be encouraged by someone like Miss Deb.

Life with three is as crazy as I could have imagined and often it feels like my mind is going three (or more) directions at once, but obviously I've got a great helper in Harrison and his great big heart.

Plus, he and his sister are pretty rad little artists:

(OK, so maybe Mama helped a wee little bit with RL's Rainbow Fish creation, but she was running the glitter glue, I swear.)

Love!

A Change in Policy

In the last few weeks, some friends have shared with me some amazing happenings on the interwebs related to breast feeding and mamahood  including a photography endeavor called The 4th Trimester Bodies Project, the websites/Facebooks groups of The Leaky Boob and The Badass Breastfeeder, and lastly, this outstanding commercial from Luvs:

Seriously. If you have any interest in nursing, it will be worth your time to check out these resources. And if you're still not convinced that breast feeding deserves a place within our society, watch this and see if she doesn't change your mind. 

Now by no means do I mean do go all Mommy Wars here and get up on some pedestal about how you should feed your baby. Just feed your baby. That's all I ask. I don't care if there is a fox or a box or socks involved - you do what is best for you and your bambino(s). 

For me, breast feeding has always been the preferred option. I suppose some of my parenting preferences, like natural birth and nursing, came from the stories I heard from my own mom about how my brother and I were raised. Not that either of those things were pressed on me by her or anyone else; it's just what I decided I would aim for prior to Harrison's birth, knowing full well that I may not get my wish. Fortunately, though, I have now been able to have three natural births and have been able to nurse all three of my babies. For this, I consider myself and my family very blessed. 

Now that's not to say that breast feeding has been an easy road for us. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever understand why nursing is so hard, but holy moly cow, it is. In some ways, my struggles with each of my kiddos has been the same, mainly thanks to my battles each time with Thrush. Trying to learn how to nurse while teaching a newborn to eat all while enduring stinging nipples for weeks or months on end? That is not easy. Neither is dealing with all the other little oddities and problems like poor latches due to tiny mouths (I know all babies have small mouths, but my children seems to have especially miniature versions, I swear) or plugged ducts or engorgement or pumping before every feeding or cracked nipples. But I have been there/done all that and more. Of course, it was because I wanted to, or chose to at least. 

Actually, if I hadn't been so committed to nursing and had such amazing support from my hubby, I probably would have said forget it. Newborns are stressful enough without all the boob drama, so I can see why many mamas opt for formula. Actually, we had to opt for formula too, with Raegan, but not until she was 13 months old. At that point I was too sick from being preggers with LT to keep up with all the bodily demands of her plus him plus myself, and the little stinker wouldn't drink cow's milk (still won't, except for from a cereal bowl), so we did an older infant formula for six months to get her through the transition of baby to table food. See, I am not kidding when I say you do what you need to do (for each of your littles because each one is bound to be different). 

However, what I've realized about my commitment to breast feeding after looking at all of the above mentioned resources is that I made another, rather odd now that I think about it, choice. I don't have a single picture of me breastfeeding any of my babies. I suppose I thought I was being modest by not taking any, but when I look at the images posted to those various pages mentioned above, part of me is sad not to have visual proof of all that we went through and just how far we made it as the HD & Mama and RL & Mama teams. Because the pictures I see on those sites of those mamas and their babies are beautiful. Beautiful for the bonds and connections evident between parent and child and beautiful for the sacrifice I know it takes to make those moments happen. 

Had I thought to take pictures of myself nursing Harrison or Raegan, I could have done so just for us. It's not like I would have had to post the pictures to Facebook albums or even put them in the baby books. But having them in some form, even just on our computer, would be so helpful now that I am nursing their little brother. That way, Harrison could see for himself that yes, I did feed him with milk from my tummy (the expression he used when he watched Raegan nurse as a baby) and Raegan could know that she too got lots of "Milk! Milk! Milk!" from Mama, because these days they both ask in their own ways, quite often, if I nursed them, too. So when I think back about what a big part of their babyhoods nursing was and about how nursing has shaped me as a mama, I am shocked and a little heartbroken that I don't have those images to share and reassure them with now. 

Even though I like to be an equal opportunity mama, I think I'll make a change this time. I think I'll make sure that we get some snapshots of Lincoln nursing so that we can all remember what this was like. And so my kids can see, even when they are way past baby stages, that this is a great and healthy, perfectly normal and natural way to feed babies. Because hopefully, someday, it will be my daughter's turn to make this decision or my sons' turns to support their wives and I want them to know, to see, what we chose for them. Not to force their hands but just to say this is what we did for you. And it was beautiful. 

Adventures in Nursing

HD, after watching me take a big drink from my MLH hospital mug: How does that water make you feel?
Me: Good!
HD: Does that water make you make more milk?
Me (totally surprised): Why, yes, actually. It does!
HD: Just like a factory!
Me (laughing now): Yep. You got it, Buddy. Just like a factory!

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Raegan is perhaps the slowest breakfast eater in the history of breakfast eaters in part because she typically eats so much. She loves to feed herself (which adds to the timeliness of the event) cereal and will have four-six bowls (toddler sized) on any given day. She even drinks the milk out of the bowl when she's all done. But because she is feeding herself and the bowls are small and we don't want to give her too much at a time in the likely event it ends up somewhere other than her mouth, it can take 40+ minutes to get through her first meal of the day. I guess it wasn't too shocking to me the other day, then, when I had to grab the Boppy and bring it to the dining room table because I needed to nurse Lincoln at the same time I kept refilling her cereal bowl. LT actually nursed pretty well but it was quite the yoga routine for me!

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Raegan insists on hollering screaming "MILK!" whenever she sees me nursing. Just the sight of my chest, though, is often enough to make her holler scream it, too. We lead an interesting (and loud) life, I tell you!

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What is it with Lincoln's fingernails? They are seriously attacking me, especially when he nurses! I've tried nibbling them and clipping them and filing them and nothing seems to help - he just keeps clawing his own face and my chest. Ouch!

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Thrush update. Still thrushy. At least, some days. Some days I really don't notice much stinging. Others are pretty painful, at least when my milk lets down. I have this new organic product to try from MotherLove that works in a similar fashion to Newman's Cream, so maybe that will help kick the thrush for good? I'm still taking a probiotic and using tea tree oil in our laundry, but I'm beginning to think stress/tiredness are key culprits. It seems like when I go a few nights with poor sleep, the pain is worse. Or maybe that just makes sense because when your body is exhausted, of course you feel physical sensations more acutely.

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Holy Frantic Nurser, Batman! Lincoln has been like this from Day One (maybe Two), but I don't know if I've really chronicled it yet. Sometimes, when he's super drowsy, he latches on and nurses just fine, and is totally calm. A lot of other times, he bobs and weaves and hovers and squawks and is all over the place. I can't figure out what his deal is or why this happens, but he continues to sleep and continues to grow, so I've got to trust he's getting enough and doing OK. It does mean he gulps a lot of air, though, so we do a lot of burping. Raegan gets a kick out of my pounding on LT's back and comes over often to "help" me. She likes to climb up on my footstool, reach out with her hand and swat at us, all while grinning and saying, "Tap? Tap!"

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According the lactation consultants at my beloved Baby Weighs, breastfed babies 5-6 weeks old can go up to a week without pooping. Yes, a whole week! It seems Lincoln's picked up on that message because he is now going 3-4 days between dirty diapers. And while it seems some nights that he really needs to do something to feel better, it doesn't seem to bother him too much. What is bothersome is on that third or fourth day when he actually goes and then hello, mess! Unfortunately, today's mess coincided with the big kids playing on the sun porch which I thought was a good thing (yea, they are occupied!) until I got done using my 20th wipe on LT and went to check on them. Not only had they drug a ton of toys on the porch, they had also dismantled my "nursing station" too. My rocking chair cushions, Boppy, foot stool and nursing pads were all on the porch, as well, which did not make me very happy. Even better/worse? Each of them had a nursing pad stuck to their proud/naughty tummies! Hooligans.

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Here at two and a half months, we have finally reached the age/stage where I don't have to hold Lincoln in the cross cradle position to nurse all the time. By Baby No. 3 I've finally learned that the football hold is best in the beginning (helps them from being so overwhelmed by the combo of big milk plus tiny mouths) and that the cross cradle works well after that to teach them proper latching and positioning and all that. But now we've reached the point where I can settle in to my favorite nursing position, the good old cradle hold. It feels, by far, the most natural to me to have my babe's head resting in the crook of my elbow with my hand free to rub his back or hip while he nurses. My other hand can then be free to guide his mouth if needed, but now we're getting into the flow where I can usually rest it in front of his body and he grabs onto my thumb or fingers with his little fingers. I love, love, love feeling so connected with him in those moments (even if his darn little nails are too sharp).

Two Years Tired

It occurred to me this week that if I were to rename this blog, a little over two years after starting it, Two Years Tired would be an appropriate choice. I mean, really. From the very beginning, I've been writing about the sleep, or rather the lack thereof, in this house. You know, like this story and this one, or this one and this. However, it seems that sleep is at the root of all I think/worry about, so I guess it makes sense that it consumes my writing, too.

So what's the latest on sleep in our house? I am happy to report that we're making progress. ALL of us.

Two weeks ago, we switched Harrison and Raegan into a shared room so Lincoln could move into his own space (which in turn freed up our room and my poor ears/brain from hearing every little wiggle and grunt my noisy little baby makes, even when he's still sound asleep). Surprisingly, amazingly, thankfully, it went well. As in, so well we wondered why on Earth we didn't do it sooner! The mornings haven't been too stinkin' early and the going-to-beds have gotten better and better each night. Raegan is adjusting both to having a roommate and her dad in the room (while her roomie goes to sleep, anyway) and her roomie is being a great example of a good sleeper. Raegan tries every night to talk and sing and Harrison won't have any of it. He tells her to be quiet and that it's time to sleep and then he does just that, which is when Ben sneaks out and the RL puts herself to sleep in her crib. Easy Peasy, really, and kind of funny that HD is sleep coaching his baby sis!

Lincoln, on the other hand, took a couple nights to adjust to his new digs (maybe he doesn't like the decor because the walls are still half covered with Raegan's stuff?). He was up mid-early-morning (like 2 or 3ish) the first two nights to nurse thanks to the unfortunate timing of his two-month growth spurt. Actually, it wasn't unfortunate for anyone except for me because somehow, even without him in our room, I struggled to go back to sleep after nursing him. So Tired Mama continued even though everybody else was snoozing nicely.

Then Monday night of this previous week happened. My consolation through all this extreme sleeplessness was that I could always go to sleep to start the night - I just couldn't stay that way. Well Monday night I lost my consolation when it took me FIVE hours to fall asleep. FIVE HOURS! Talk about feeling like crazy cakes when you lay in bed for five hours knowing just how exhausted you're going to be the next day and how unfair it is when everyone else is sleeping and that the black circles under your eyes are Never. Ever. Going. AWAY because you've completely lost the ability to sleep. Because, after all, you're TWO whole years tired with no sight of reprieve in sight.

And that's when you decide to reach out and see what your doctor suggests.

Of course it has to be safe for breast feeding, as are all the other home remedies you've been trying (like yoga and cherry juice and evening primrose oil and visualization and no caffeine and so on and so on). And of course you don't want to be relying on it for long, but holy wow, did I need that help. And thankfully I had the encouragement of both my mom and a good friend on Tuesday to do something to take care of me. And that's what calling the doctor and getting an OTC solution was - looking out for myself. Because, honestly, if I hadn't found a way to get myself some real rest and recovery, I don't know how much longer I could have kept going. And my babies need me to keep going. And I would like very much to give them the best me possible; which hopefully, with a few more nights of decent sleep under my belt, I'll be able to do so on a regular basis.

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Ugh. Apparently I spoke too soon. Last night, after I posted this, was our worst one yet in the two weeks since Lincoln moved out of our room. He was up around 2:30 and almost went back to sleep without nursing but then didn't and unfortunately, even when he did go back to his room, I never really went back to sleep until after 5. So of course this was the morning Raegan decides to start screaming at 5:50 for no apparent reason. Lovely. At least it's a Sunday and I could stay upstairs to sort of nap back some of my missed sleep, but yuck. I feel a little One Step Forward, Two Steps Back right now with this whole sleep business. And really, I would like to just be over it. I would much rather think and write about something, anything else!

Head Open

It seems like no more than a day or two goes by without Harrison hearing some form of "Don't crack your head open" from me. "Don't climb on that or you'll crack your head open." "Get down from there, so you don't crack your head open." "If you don't stop jumping on that, you're going to crack your head open!" And so on. He even says it to me now when I warn him about a precarious physical activity in which he's engaging, saying, "Stop so I don't crack my head open, Mama?" To which I reply, "Yep." and explain, again, when he asks, again, that I don't want his head cracked open because I want him to take care of his big, beautiful brain.

My friends, today I think I saw some of that brain. Well, maybe not actual brain but I definitely saw more of the inside of my son's head than I ever cared to or thought I might see.

As you may recall, Tuesdays and I have not been friends this year. So it really doesn't surprise me that Harrison's first (please be the last, too, thanks) head cracking came on a Tuesday. It also doesn't surprise me that I got three hours of sleep last night, and while that's totally unrelated to Harrison's incident and worthy of its own blog post, it just seemed par for the course on this Tuesday morning of head trouble.

Sleep issues aside, we were set to have a decent morning. Ben was just getting ready for school and I was doing a great job of ignoring overlooking the screaming children as they chased each other around the house as I cleared the breakfast table. Quite honestly, my plan for the first half the morning was to get LT down for a nap and then snooze hang out with the big kids and some good ol' PBS before heading to the Children's Museum for our first Toddler Art class of the new school year, so I really didn't care that they were being loud and wild at the moment.

What I didn't appreciate was the fact that Harrison was running from Raegan with a toy in his hand for the sole purpose of annoying her, so when I first heard him crash and burn, my Snarky Mama voice wanted to throw out a "See?!" and a "I told you so" and even a "Dude, you totally deserved that" but then something made me stop and actually poke my head around the corner to check on him first. When you see a little guy with a hand pressed to his head, crying hard, Snarky Mama shuts up petty quickly. And when you go to remove his hand so you can check his head and see blood running everywhere, Snarky Mama disappears altogether and HOLY CRAP THE KID IS BLEEDING WHAT DO WE DO?! Mama steps in.

Thankfully Ben had just come back in the house to grab his bags, so he was able to hold HD while I got him cleaned up and we assessed the damage. Since no one saw what happened, our best guess is that the combination of his Angry Birds slippers and running on the hardwood floors, all while wearing PJ pants that really need to be hemmed all led to him wiping out. Unfortunately, when he did so, he slid into the corner of our cedar chest. Or maybe the base board. Or our kiddo rocking chair. I really don't know what he hit. All I know is that it must have been hard because it made a fairly deep dent in his forehead that gave me a view of things I didn't want to be viewing and is going to be one heck of a bruise before this is all said and done.

With the help of two Angry Birds band-aids, I was to get him patched up while Ben made some arrangements and then I took HD in to see the doctor ASAP. We knew it wasn't a long enough cut to be a total gusher that required the ER, but after I got him to the doc's, I was so glad we didn't just leave it up to the band-aids. The poor kid needed two stitches!

For such an active and typically squirmy guy, I have to give Harrison big props for how he handled the doctor's office. He sat so nicely on the exam table waiting for the numbing goop (like that fancy medical term? me too) to work and was great about having the stitches put in. We'll go back at the start of next week to have them removed and for now, he's loving the constant application of AB band-aids to his head and the fact that he doesn't have to do the first swimming lesson at preK tomorrow becasue for some reason, he's always been nervous about swimming days at school even though he always does great with them. In fact, after supper tonight, he made some comment about hurting his head so he wouldn't have to swim, at which point I had to remind him, "No, Buddy. You don't want to crack your head open just to sit out of swimming." See? Not even one day out from his first head wound and we're already warning about the next! Ahhh, me. Life with rough and tumble Littles!

Show Me Your Proud Smile

Here is what I got when I asked Harrison this afternoon to show me his proud smile:

And what is making him so proud? Why, he's holding it, of course! It's his brand new "Angry Birds Race" (as he has been calling it for the last month-ish).

So let me give you the back story to this proud, proud moment in a four-year-old's life. A month-ish ago we were in Herberger's looking for some new shirts for Ben. Harrison, naturally, found the small toy section of the store and was immediately drawn to the display of Angry Birds model games. He has several of these sets and loves building and playing with them. While he's not a big car person, he does like to play with an old set of Hot Wheels at Grandma and Grandpa Welsch's, so perhaps that was what led him to this particular set. When we left the store 15 minutes later without it, he was a wee bit bummed. But then I had a wee bit of an epiphany and decided that, with our powers combined (somebody please tell me you get this reference. Please!), we could both get something we wanted with a little time, a little patience, and a little practice.

What kind of practice? Handwriting. Well, not so much even handwriting. I know the kid is four, after all, and has two years of preschool left, so I'm pretty certain that his handwriting will be much improved before he starts Kindergarten. But at both of our conferences with his teacher last year, fine motor strength, or the lack thereof, was mentioned and we really didn't do much to work on it. I got some games and activities that might help strengthen his hand muscles like KerPlunk and latching puzzles, but we did not touch his grip on a writing utensil until, well, about a month-ish ago!

I thought that making an incentive chart that got Harrison practicing his grip might be a nice way to get us through the last month of summer and also get him ready-ish for school starting. I made him a way-super-cool-and-colorful chart to hang on our fridge and had Angry Bird stickers at the ready for each day he met his goal. It looked like this:

See how I tried to be all fancy pants about it? After the first two weeks, I upped the ante and increased the number of minutes he should do in a day. But I said he only needed five out of seven days of each week because I knew, even before we started, that there was no way we were going to accomplish this every single day for an entire month. What I learned after the first two weeks, in which he did an amazing 12 days in a row(!), was that there was no need to increase the time. 10 minutes a day was good enough because I did not want to make this a punishment or unpleasant task. I wanted it to be very positive and very success-oriented. So we let go of the "handwriting" idea and focused instead on letter tracing and grip on the pen/marker/highlighter/crayon/ paint brush (you get the idea). It quickly became all about holding with his finger tips and not a tight fist, and so long as he did that, he got to earn his sticker for the day. Here is Day One of practicing with words of his choice: 

 And the sticker placement:

 Some days looked more like this (and I was totally OK w/ that):

 And here is what the chart looked like this morning:

All done! Or done enough, at least. We lost a few days there in Weeks Three and Four because of HD's adverse reaction to a bug bite that left him in an ACE bandage for three days and on an allergy medicine and antibiotic for ten. One is not so concerned about grip practice when one's writing hand looks like this:

And while I am super, super proud of how long Harrison dedicated himself to his mission, I find myself feeling like a bit of a Type A Arse for making him do this. Especially after I read this insightful blog last night. She's right; 4-year-olds need to know how much they mean to us, not how to hold a pencil correctly. What I will take away from it all, though, is the excitement, the pride ("I am so proud of myself, Mama!"), and the pure joy he had this afternoon when we finally got home with his new game. He certainly earned it!

Roomies

Oy. So, Here We Go happened yesterday and there we went - the land of a shared sibling room. And let's just start by saying that the first night of Harrison and Raegan as roommates was, um, interesting.

To begin, bedtime took forever. As in, an hour longer than it normally does, forever. Poor Ben. He was laying on the floor of their room, waiting for them to fall asleep for over an hour and by them, I totally mean Raegan. Harrison was a rock star. After the books and final potty break normal routine, they went back into their room to give kisses and sing our goodnight song and then HD went to sleep while RL did her best to keep herself and her brother awake. I guess Harrison did shimmy out of his covers once and then, when Raegan finally did sit down in her crib he called out, "Where'd ya go, Raegs?" but after a stern warning from Dad, he got quiet and managed to both tune her out and go to sleep. See? Rock star!

Raegan, on the other hand, was still awake when Ben finally gave up and left the room. I could hear her calling, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" as he came down the stairs which is apparently what she said over and over while he was in there, too. Well, that and, "Brudder! Brudder! Brudder!" Poor girl. She is not used to having people in with her while she goes to sleep. When we sleep trained a year ago, we established a routine that involved saying goodnight and then walking out so she could put herself to sleep which has served us well for the last 12 months. In that time, however, we learned that what worked for "Brudder" was staying on the floor of his room until he was asleep. Normally it doesn't take more than 10-15 minutes and we figured that was worth it to save him (and us) from his popping out of bed and his room a gazillion times each night.

So tonight's approach was to go the Harrison route and stay in the room until they were both out. As mentioned, he handled it pretty well and was asleep, Ben thought, in probably 20 minutes or so after the final "Goodnight"s which is pretty typical, and downright awesome considering the circumstances. But Raegan was just too tempted to talk and walk around her crib while she had a willing audience which is why Ben made the call to leave after HD had been asleep for half an hour or so. And while we heard her for a little bit after that, it was never wall shaking loud and didn't last more than another 5-10 minutes. Again, this is not her norm, so we can't really blame her for wanting to interact with the people in the room, but talk about lesson learned: wait until HD falls asleep, then leave! I suppose she could better in time, and hopefully will, but no point in staying in there longer if it is only going to keep her up longer too.

The actual night was far less chaotic, at least until 3:45 when we heard Lincoln crying in the other room. Ben went to try first, by rewrapping LT and walking him a bit, but it was pretty obvious that Little Dude wanted more than a quick snuggle. So I got up at 4:00 to nurse him and while he was back down in his crib 20 minutes later, I had a heck of a time falling back asleep before morning came. I did manage between 5:30 and 6 to have a very strange dream about moving into a new house (NO! NO MORE CHAOS!!!), but then Harrison came in at 6:05 to use the bathroom. Raegan, of course, started crying when this happened, but they made it another 20 minutes or so being calm off and on during after that while we waited to do Good Mornings. And really, since the 6-6:30ish time frame is a pretty normal wake up time for us, we were very pleased with the big kids and how they did on their first night/morning together.

Now if I can just figure out how to get myself back to sleep, even when I know that I have just a little time left before the whole house shimmies for the day, we'll all be doing much, much better!

Here We Go...

Somewhere, deep in my soul, I must thrive on chaos. Or at the very least, some part of me must seek it out, as it seems that I keep finding ways to throw more spinning plates in the air. Our latest crazy? A fence project and a bedroom shift, all in one weekend!

The fence project idea blossomed a few weeks ago when my mom visited and saw, first hand, how challenging it can be to keep my super active kiddos in our backyard. We love our backyard but the garage is way too appealing to them and they can disappear so quickly around the corner of the house, so while she and I were chatting one morning, we decided a fence would be extremely helpful. And somehow, my dear husband did not veto the idea when I suggested it to him that night, because you've got to be kidding me if you think I was going to the one building it! I'm the planner, not so much the doer, of these kind of ventures (but I was the one to find the sweet sale on materials from Menard's, so "yay, me!" for that!).

So really, this fence chaos didn't come out of nowhere and ultimately it is going to mean for much less chaos in my daily life at home with the kids. I can look past one super crazy weekend and see that pretty clearly. And the great news is, the vinyl portion is all done (minus the gate which is on hold due to backordered hinges, boo!). My dad and Ben got everything dug and set and it looks fantastic. Of course, Harrison now keeps talking about playing Angry Birds over the fence, but he'll learn pretty quickly when he starts chucking toys over it that Mama is not going to play that game. Keep it in the yard or find something else to do, sweet child of mine! The chain link portion still needs to be set and stretched (or whatever technical terms you use to describe putting up a chain link fence), but Ben is confident that that will come pretty quickly. So no totally enclosed yard yet, but we're getting there!

The extra crazy idea came last night as Ben and I were talking before putting Lincoln down for the night. We decided (after I had some very, very rough nights of (no) sleep this week) that it is time to get the baby out of our room. The only way to do that, as you may recall, is to get Harrison and Raegan in a shared room. And thus we had our extra burst of crazy this morning when we started combining their rooms into one right after we all got up this morning. HD was pumped, playing Project Overseer ("How're ya doin', Mama?"), and RL ran around carrying books from one space to the next while Ben moved the crib and I got all of the little pieces put in place.

30 minutes later and the deed was done. I think it looks sweet and cozy in the room, but appearances are not really the goal here. We are, of course, looking for everyone to get as much sleep as possible and that may be tricky here for a bit. I'm sure bedtime will take a little longer and the mornings might start a little earlier should there be a bathroom break or crying spell or whatnot for the new roommates. But I've got to hold on to the idea that I can handle the early mornings so long as I'm getting good, solid sleep (without a freaking pillow on my head) the whole night leading up to that point. And seeing as Lincoln has been going from 9:30 or 10:00 until 5:00 or 6:00 (sometimes even 6:30!) without nursing, we really could be in business here, since I won't hear him until I need to hear him.

While this isn't a terribly insightful blog post, I'm sharing it with you so you know the background and the history of our latest (crazy) change (because I can pretty well guarantee that there will be shenanigans and stories to share in the coming weeks from all of this room shuffling). However, much like the fence, I think the long term benefits are going to outweigh the short term chaos. Or, at least I really hope that is the case!