Yesterday began at 4:28 a.m. for me. Unfortunately, after almost two weeks of doing pretty well getting to sleep every night, yesterday didn't end until 4 a.m. this morning for me. That means that with kid wake ups and whatnot, I got all of about 2.5 hours of sleep. And now I have to do 10 hours by myself with all three kids in the house today. Here's how that will happen:
1) I am giving them and myself a lot of slack today. If that materializes in pajamas all day or "one more" show on PBS, then so be it. It is cold outside and I am part-zombie today. Slack is necessary to forgive myself my crazies of not sleeping well and to understand that the things my children do today that I find less than favorable are not personal attacks on me or a reflection of who I am as a parent. Harrison was up between 3 and 4, too, for unknown reasons; apparently Raegan took her pajamas off after Ben put her down, forever before falling asleep, and then slept in just a diaper (and now has a runny nose); Lincoln was up at 3:30 to nurse. We are ALL tired today and each one of us needs slack (you have no idea how many times I am having to hit the delete button to correct the mistakes my tiredness is making as I type, even).
2) Love. That's what I can give my kids today. Not a bunch of spectacular SuperMom moments - just love. And I can do the same for myself. Every time I see my super dark circles in the mirror, I can choose to love myself instead of criticize. Maybe that is SuperMom after all.
3) I will watch this a million times. Or at least think of it and remember that they love me, imperfections and all.
Afternoon Update: Yep, a lot of screen time, two cups of decaf coffee, some kick-ass Melissa and Doug stickers, and some good tunes have gotten us this far. Still two hours to go until Ben is home (hopefully) and then maybe all of my super sleepies (and one slightly sicky) can get some rest tonight, me included.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Inhale/Exhale
Today my body feels a wee bit like I got run over by a train. Or maybe like I went for a kick-ass 5 mile run. My muscles are that sore and achy. But what I actually did, is something that I'm very excited about on multiple levels, for many reasons. The big mystery activity? A fantastic hour-long yoga class at a local studio yesterday morning. It was awesome.
My love affair with yoga started in college. I did classes on my semester in Africa in '02 and then again at Doane in the Spring of '04. But since then, the only yoga I've gotten in has been the prenatal DVDs that I started using during my second pregnancy (and loved, loved, loved! seriously - all mamas-to-be should get this set!). No formal classes since college, though, so when Avani opened almost two years ago, shortly after Raegan was born, I was excited about it. But then RL was a crappy sleeper and we moved and I found plenty of reasons not to go. Last fall I was all gung-ho again, but then found out I was pregnant, again, so again, more excuses not to start.
Now, in the midst of all this sleep drama and third baby (beautiful) chaos, one of my goals has been focusing on myself and letting go of excuses. That isn't exactly easy to do and as you know, my me time doesn't exactly come in big installments. But I have to have some things for me or I am going to fade out and be of no use to anyone, which is why I'm walking and reading and writing and looking for other ways to just be me (not Mama or Wifey or Teacher, etc. Just me). Enter Thursday's purchase of a ten-class punch card at Avani. It's a beautiful thing. I can go to any of their classes offered at various times throughout each week and the thing never expires. So right now my goal is to make it once a week. With the aforementioned chaos, I think that is both a good and realistic goal. Once a week is better than never, and once Lincoln gets a little older and we get some more routines established, maybe I can bump that up to twice a week, and maybe then to the unlimited-monthly card (how cool would that be?!).
Why am I so jazzed about this? Because my class experience yesterday was amazing. Clearly part of it was the physical reaction my body had to the class. The movements and the music felt good the entire time. That's not to say that it was all easy. In fact, most of it was not which was both humbling and inspiring for my postpartum-third-baby-belly. I couldn't believe how hard some of the moves were for me. Holding my arms in a plank position and then trying to drag a towel on the floor with my feet towards my hands? The gal next to me could go all the way. I could go maybe a quarter of an inch. While that might sound disheartening, it wasn't. If anything, it gives me more goals and improvements to look forward to, because I know if I stick with it I will see and feel results in a month or two or six. I will get stronger and more flexible and I can give myself the space and time to let those things come. And while I knew by supper time last night that I was going to be insanely sore today, I'm good with that, too, because those aches in my muscles they tell me that I am both alive and aware in this world and what's better than a reminder like that?
Another reason the class felt so good was that it helped me clear and focus my mind a bit which is a practice that I think will really help me get my sleep back on track. We silently set intentions at the start of class and the instructor reminded us continually to state those back to ourselves, so I spent the whole hour celebrating myself for 1) being there and 2) being aware of my body. It was that simple, but that powerful, too. When we ended in Relaxation Pose, I found myself almost in tears at first and then grinning from ear to ear by the end of it. Apparently that radiance stuck with me because when I jetted off to the birthday party of a friend's son right after class, my friend and two others commented immediately about how good and happy I looked when I got there. Who knew, but apparently yoga is a good remedy for BRF, too!
In all seriousness, the reason I'm writing about this is to remember those feelings and my original intentions and to hold myself accountable for continuing with this practice. I also share this with you because a lot of you reading this are parents and I want to encourage all of you, myself included, to remember to take care of you. As I keep adding elements and avenues of me, I see myself holding my own and keeping more calm with the day-to-day crazies of meltdowns and meal times and me-centeredness that is life with three Littles. I know they see and feel and appreciate the strength I am giving my body and mind with each of my efforts, too, so even though I am focusing on me, I am also helping my family as a whole.
Of course I'm still going to have moments where I feel stress and want to cry, "I am TOTALLY FREAKING OUT" (thank you, PBS, for HD's new favorite show, Peg + Cat). But that's the point. It's OK for me to have those moments and those feelings. It's what I do with my head and my breath and my words in those moments that will have the greatest impact on my little family. Might as well use my yoga practice to make them as centered as possible!
My love affair with yoga started in college. I did classes on my semester in Africa in '02 and then again at Doane in the Spring of '04. But since then, the only yoga I've gotten in has been the prenatal DVDs that I started using during my second pregnancy (and loved, loved, loved! seriously - all mamas-to-be should get this set!). No formal classes since college, though, so when Avani opened almost two years ago, shortly after Raegan was born, I was excited about it. But then RL was a crappy sleeper and we moved and I found plenty of reasons not to go. Last fall I was all gung-ho again, but then found out I was pregnant, again, so again, more excuses not to start.
Now, in the midst of all this sleep drama and third baby (beautiful) chaos, one of my goals has been focusing on myself and letting go of excuses. That isn't exactly easy to do and as you know, my me time doesn't exactly come in big installments. But I have to have some things for me or I am going to fade out and be of no use to anyone, which is why I'm walking and reading and writing and looking for other ways to just be me (not Mama or Wifey or Teacher, etc. Just me). Enter Thursday's purchase of a ten-class punch card at Avani. It's a beautiful thing. I can go to any of their classes offered at various times throughout each week and the thing never expires. So right now my goal is to make it once a week. With the aforementioned chaos, I think that is both a good and realistic goal. Once a week is better than never, and once Lincoln gets a little older and we get some more routines established, maybe I can bump that up to twice a week, and maybe then to the unlimited-monthly card (how cool would that be?!).
Why am I so jazzed about this? Because my class experience yesterday was amazing. Clearly part of it was the physical reaction my body had to the class. The movements and the music felt good the entire time. That's not to say that it was all easy. In fact, most of it was not which was both humbling and inspiring for my postpartum-third-baby-belly. I couldn't believe how hard some of the moves were for me. Holding my arms in a plank position and then trying to drag a towel on the floor with my feet towards my hands? The gal next to me could go all the way. I could go maybe a quarter of an inch. While that might sound disheartening, it wasn't. If anything, it gives me more goals and improvements to look forward to, because I know if I stick with it I will see and feel results in a month or two or six. I will get stronger and more flexible and I can give myself the space and time to let those things come. And while I knew by supper time last night that I was going to be insanely sore today, I'm good with that, too, because those aches in my muscles they tell me that I am both alive and aware in this world and what's better than a reminder like that?
Another reason the class felt so good was that it helped me clear and focus my mind a bit which is a practice that I think will really help me get my sleep back on track. We silently set intentions at the start of class and the instructor reminded us continually to state those back to ourselves, so I spent the whole hour celebrating myself for 1) being there and 2) being aware of my body. It was that simple, but that powerful, too. When we ended in Relaxation Pose, I found myself almost in tears at first and then grinning from ear to ear by the end of it. Apparently that radiance stuck with me because when I jetted off to the birthday party of a friend's son right after class, my friend and two others commented immediately about how good and happy I looked when I got there. Who knew, but apparently yoga is a good remedy for BRF, too!
In all seriousness, the reason I'm writing about this is to remember those feelings and my original intentions and to hold myself accountable for continuing with this practice. I also share this with you because a lot of you reading this are parents and I want to encourage all of you, myself included, to remember to take care of you. As I keep adding elements and avenues of me, I see myself holding my own and keeping more calm with the day-to-day crazies of meltdowns and meal times and me-centeredness that is life with three Littles. I know they see and feel and appreciate the strength I am giving my body and mind with each of my efforts, too, so even though I am focusing on me, I am also helping my family as a whole.
Of course I'm still going to have moments where I feel stress and want to cry, "I am TOTALLY FREAKING OUT" (thank you, PBS, for HD's new favorite show, Peg + Cat). But that's the point. It's OK for me to have those moments and those feelings. It's what I do with my head and my breath and my words in those moments that will have the greatest impact on my little family. Might as well use my yoga practice to make them as centered as possible!
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Medal Ceremony, Anyone?
I deserve a damn medal. Not because I did anything extraordinary, but because I did about a million ordinary things, mostly on my own because my hubby's had a crazy week, too, and I mostly didn't lose my sh!t with the children while doing so. And contrary to the tone of all my cussing thus far in this post, I'm over the moon happy about life right now. So content that I found myself in the rocking chair this evening, nursing Lincoln and grinning like a damn fool (see, there's that language again; apparently I swear inversely to how well things are going!). Why? Because I've been working really hard lately and today I realized, more than once, that I not only feel good, I am good. So good that I could still feel it all over my tired, covered in sticky and icky and milky self tonight. And that's pretty awesome.
Now, a few points I need to add before I continue. Perhaps, if you are not feeling so good at the moment, you would like to kick me in the shins right now. I get that. I have been there. I am sure I'll be there again. So I give you full permission to wish harm upon my shins because sometimes that's just where we are. There have been multiple times in my life as a parent that I felt someone else was throwing their good in my face with ridiculously upbeat Facebook status updates about their cherub children or with their put together outfits or well-rested faces or what have you and I have wanted to kick them in the shins which isn't terribly adult or kind of me. But then I read things like this and just today, this, and slowly I've begun to learn that the happiness of others is not something I should be taking personally.
Seeing as past experiences tell me that I suffer from Bitchy Resting Face, I realize that this shift in my perspective may not be visible to the naked eye. And clearly you know I'm not going to be spouting nothing but sunshine and roses from here on out. That's not me. But because I do narrate this life honestly, I think it is honest to tell you that I've been working towards being good and being happy for a long time. Life these last few years has been a little bit intense and little bit hectic. And of course it has also been a little bit freaking awesome and a little bit full of joyful moments, but today, in the midst of a really long day near the end of a really long week, I was able to find myself laughing and smiling and not just feeling like I'm stuck in survival mode. Of course this is ironic because with a 4-yr-old, an almost-2-yr-old, and an almost-4-mo-old, I am very much in survival mode, but the good news is, I am starting to rediscover my sense of humor and my sense of self which is making the good shine through the crazy.
Again, this takes me back to the medal. I deserve the damn medal because in the midst of the chaos, I am taking time, insisting on time, for myself. It's coming in small increments and in small ways, but I am OK with that. The fact that I'm even doing it is what is so noteworthy because in this life of giving, giving, giving to my Littles and our life as a family, it is so easy to leave myself for last. But obviously if I give my entire self away, there will be nothing left for the rest of them, so my acts of self-care are caring for my brood, too.
And you know what? I think you deserve a damn medal, too. Yes, yes I do. Whether you're doing something extraordinary or a million bits of ordinary, you are also here which means you are part of me and for that I am grateful. Because without you I wouldn't have people to share the highs and lows and isn't that the point of this life anyway?
Now, a few points I need to add before I continue. Perhaps, if you are not feeling so good at the moment, you would like to kick me in the shins right now. I get that. I have been there. I am sure I'll be there again. So I give you full permission to wish harm upon my shins because sometimes that's just where we are. There have been multiple times in my life as a parent that I felt someone else was throwing their good in my face with ridiculously upbeat Facebook status updates about their cherub children or with their put together outfits or well-rested faces or what have you and I have wanted to kick them in the shins which isn't terribly adult or kind of me. But then I read things like this and just today, this, and slowly I've begun to learn that the happiness of others is not something I should be taking personally.
Seeing as past experiences tell me that I suffer from Bitchy Resting Face, I realize that this shift in my perspective may not be visible to the naked eye. And clearly you know I'm not going to be spouting nothing but sunshine and roses from here on out. That's not me. But because I do narrate this life honestly, I think it is honest to tell you that I've been working towards being good and being happy for a long time. Life these last few years has been a little bit intense and little bit hectic. And of course it has also been a little bit freaking awesome and a little bit full of joyful moments, but today, in the midst of a really long day near the end of a really long week, I was able to find myself laughing and smiling and not just feeling like I'm stuck in survival mode. Of course this is ironic because with a 4-yr-old, an almost-2-yr-old, and an almost-4-mo-old, I am very much in survival mode, but the good news is, I am starting to rediscover my sense of humor and my sense of self which is making the good shine through the crazy.
Again, this takes me back to the medal. I deserve the damn medal because in the midst of the chaos, I am taking time, insisting on time, for myself. It's coming in small increments and in small ways, but I am OK with that. The fact that I'm even doing it is what is so noteworthy because in this life of giving, giving, giving to my Littles and our life as a family, it is so easy to leave myself for last. But obviously if I give my entire self away, there will be nothing left for the rest of them, so my acts of self-care are caring for my brood, too.
And you know what? I think you deserve a damn medal, too. Yes, yes I do. Whether you're doing something extraordinary or a million bits of ordinary, you are also here which means you are part of me and for that I am grateful. Because without you I wouldn't have people to share the highs and lows and isn't that the point of this life anyway?
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Socktober
I happen to have a few favorites in this world, and SoulPancake is totally one of them. It started with the book version a few years back and now I have to say that the website is full of gems. Upworthy features a lot of their stuff and for good reason. The content is awesome. So it didn't surprise me when I saw a SoulPancake/Kid President video the other day that was fantastic:
The concept is called Socktober and it is both brilliant and kind. Instead of wasting all of our time on the Internet to crush the candy or follow people like Miley Cyrus on the Twitter (again, my old school phone keeps me from doing either), SP and KP would like to get 1 million folks to donate socks to the homeless in the month of October (hence Socktober).
I love when the Interwebs can be used for good. I've taken part in such small acts before and have been very honored to be part of a couple Love Flash Mobs over at Momastery. It is amazing what people can do when they get together with folks they have never and will never meet to help those both near and far.
Naturally, I wanted to get right on board with Socktober. But I didn't want it be just about me. I wanted my whole family involved. Ben and I believe in giving to various groups and people in as many ways as possible and clearly that is something we want to instill in our kids, too. So why not start young?
Today, while hanging out during the littlest Littles' naps, Harrison and I had the following conversation:
Me: Hey, buddy. Did you know that not everyone has socks?
HD: No, Mama. Everyone has socks.
Me: Noooo, there are some people who don't have enough or even any socks, especially in the winter. What would you say about getting some socks to donate to our local shelter?
HD: What's a shelter?
Me: A place where people can go to get help when they need it. And socks can be help. What if we got socks for someone your age to give?
HD: Who is 4 who doesn't have socks? What's his name? Can you tell me, Mama?
Well, I could not, but I was happy to know at that point that Harrison was very much willing and ready to be part of Socktober. When Baby Girl and Baby Boy got up, we headed to the store and SOCKS were the very first item on the agenda. On the way there, Harrison told me he wanted to hold my hand while we went to find the socks and that is exactly what we did. But we didn't want to do just one package. We wanted to get a package to represent each member of our own little family just in case there is a man or a woman or a child (age 4, 2, and 0-6 months) in Hastings who needs some extra warmth and comfort this fall and winter. Here's what we got:
This week we'll take our little bag over to CrossRoads; it's the local shelter here and it has been far too long since we've dropped anything off at their door. I am grateful that we are able to help in even this small way and happy to know that good can come from surfing the web. I hope that you can find a way to make an impact in your own community after reading this. Whether you choose to rock Socktober or something of your own creation, please remember that even the smallest gesture can make a world of difference to someone in need.
I love when the Interwebs can be used for good. I've taken part in such small acts before and have been very honored to be part of a couple Love Flash Mobs over at Momastery. It is amazing what people can do when they get together with folks they have never and will never meet to help those both near and far.
Naturally, I wanted to get right on board with Socktober. But I didn't want it be just about me. I wanted my whole family involved. Ben and I believe in giving to various groups and people in as many ways as possible and clearly that is something we want to instill in our kids, too. So why not start young?
Today, while hanging out during the littlest Littles' naps, Harrison and I had the following conversation:
Me: Hey, buddy. Did you know that not everyone has socks?
HD: No, Mama. Everyone has socks.
Me: Noooo, there are some people who don't have enough or even any socks, especially in the winter. What would you say about getting some socks to donate to our local shelter?
HD: What's a shelter?
Me: A place where people can go to get help when they need it. And socks can be help. What if we got socks for someone your age to give?
HD: Who is 4 who doesn't have socks? What's his name? Can you tell me, Mama?
Well, I could not, but I was happy to know at that point that Harrison was very much willing and ready to be part of Socktober. When Baby Girl and Baby Boy got up, we headed to the store and SOCKS were the very first item on the agenda. On the way there, Harrison told me he wanted to hold my hand while we went to find the socks and that is exactly what we did. But we didn't want to do just one package. We wanted to get a package to represent each member of our own little family just in case there is a man or a woman or a child (age 4, 2, and 0-6 months) in Hastings who needs some extra warmth and comfort this fall and winter. Here's what we got:
Friday, October 18, 2013
1, 2, 3, or 7 (it's all the same)
Let me begin by saying, we don't plan to have seven children. We are hoping to add one more to our brood and although Ben and I both have/had a grandparent with a twin, I don't think we're going to jump from three to seven when that time comes. Perhaps I should go knock on wood just to make sure, though, eh?
OK. Superstitions qualmed (which is not a verb, but that's just where I am today).
Let me continue by getting to my main point: lately it seems I hear variations of "I don't know how you do it" "I only have one; you have three!" and so on from my fellow mamas, but here's the thing - I don't know how I do it either. I never have. And that is pretty much what I tell anyone who tries to tell me that they shouldn't be stressed because they "only" have one child. Guess what, sweet mama friends? I was waaaay stressed out when I had one kid. And when I had two. And now that I have three, well, in some ways I am more stressed than ever, and in others, I am learning to let go.
Let me explain.
The big kids are off to Grandma and Grandpa's for a couple days since Harrison didn't have school today. I don't think they've been away since Lincoln was born and even before that, they maybe had one sleep-away visit during the summer, so this has been a long time comin' to say the least. They were both so excited when Grandma Deb got here yesterday morning that they put on their "pack packs" (RL's phrase) and let themselves out of the side door while Deb and I were chatting in the living room. When Grandma caught up with them (I was nursing the baby), Raegan told her, "Ready to go!" So go they did and I don't have the slightest doubt in my mind about whether or not they are having a good time. Just look at the pic my SIL posted on Facebook of the cousin fun from today. Clearly they're doing great!
Perhaps it goes without saying, but I was pretty excited myself. I mean, really?! 48ish whole hours to focus on just the baby?! WhooHoo! Here was my time to live it up and SLEEP. The timing turned out to be crucial, too, because Tuesday night I got about one whole hour of sleep the entire night (stupid sleep problems), and the only thing getting me through Wednesday was knowing I would be two kids short come Thursday and then I could take it "easy."
But remember what I've been saying all to my friends since Lincoln's arrival? I was stressed with two and I was stressed with one. Of course there are some things, many things!, easier about my day-to-day when the big kids are away, but the days are never completely and totally smooth. It really doesn't matter how many babes you have under your care (I will eat those words if I end up with seven, I know); if you are in charge of the life and well being and total survival of another human being, it is not going to be easy. It's just not. And sure enough, Lincoln, my totally-chill-roll-with-it-sweet-lovin' boy, reminded me of that yesterday and last night.
Perhaps it was too quiet in the house for him, or something, but the child did not want to nap. He fought me going down and once we finally got through that, he slept for a nanosecond and was ready to go again. So, no. No nap or "rest" time for this tired mama who was trying to recoup after Tuesday night's disaster. To be fair, my sleep has recovered quite a bit in the last few weeks, but it seems that every week and a half or so, I have a really crappy night, so I'm in this whole two steps forward/one step back in regards to my sleep (and mental function). And to be fair to LT, his day sleep is always a little erratic, so it wasn't terribly shocking that he didn't nap for very long, but I was holding out hope that he'd cut me some slack. However, if I've learned anything since becoming a parent, it's that babies do not come into this word understanding "slack."
After turning in early last night (under the covers by 9:02!), I thought, Yes! Baby is alseep; here we go! Since Lincoln usually goes from 9:30 to 5 or 6ish, I though I was going to get one heck of a long sleep. But I swear, when you have more than one kid, he (or she) can sense when you suddenly aren't so distracted by the others and that is often when they demand your attention. Like last night, when Lincoln decided to start fussing like crazy at 12:30. He never does that, so why last night?! And then, to add to the absurdity of it all, he put himself back down before I could even finish going to the bathroom and getting dressed to go get him to nurse. So I put myself back down and slept well until 5:45 which is apparently the time Harrison has imprinted on my brain as Wake Up time. I will say, though, that is much different to wake up on your own terms at 5:45 than it is to have a preschooler come barging into your bedroom. I was far less tired and was able to just be still in the dark quiet, although it probably helped to not have to hear the toddler screaming for Daddy from her crib, for once, too. And wouldn't you know it? We had to go wake Lincoln at 7 because, seriously, I was about to explode with milk. TMI, yes, but truth in the trenches of nursing, my friends. Truth.
So there you have it. I have no idea how I do it when I have three in the house. And I have no idea how I do it when I have just one, because IT is always different. Every kid. Every day. Everything and everyone is in constant motion and flux, so whether I'm faced with one, two, three, or (gulp) seven, all I can do is whatever works within that moment (because you darn well know it's going to be someone and something different the next).
OK. Superstitions qualmed (which is not a verb, but that's just where I am today).
Let me continue by getting to my main point: lately it seems I hear variations of "I don't know how you do it" "I only have one; you have three!" and so on from my fellow mamas, but here's the thing - I don't know how I do it either. I never have. And that is pretty much what I tell anyone who tries to tell me that they shouldn't be stressed because they "only" have one child. Guess what, sweet mama friends? I was waaaay stressed out when I had one kid. And when I had two. And now that I have three, well, in some ways I am more stressed than ever, and in others, I am learning to let go.
Let me explain.
The big kids are off to Grandma and Grandpa's for a couple days since Harrison didn't have school today. I don't think they've been away since Lincoln was born and even before that, they maybe had one sleep-away visit during the summer, so this has been a long time comin' to say the least. They were both so excited when Grandma Deb got here yesterday morning that they put on their "pack packs" (RL's phrase) and let themselves out of the side door while Deb and I were chatting in the living room. When Grandma caught up with them (I was nursing the baby), Raegan told her, "Ready to go!" So go they did and I don't have the slightest doubt in my mind about whether or not they are having a good time. Just look at the pic my SIL posted on Facebook of the cousin fun from today. Clearly they're doing great!
But remember what I've been saying all to my friends since Lincoln's arrival? I was stressed with two and I was stressed with one. Of course there are some things, many things!, easier about my day-to-day when the big kids are away, but the days are never completely and totally smooth. It really doesn't matter how many babes you have under your care (I will eat those words if I end up with seven, I know); if you are in charge of the life and well being and total survival of another human being, it is not going to be easy. It's just not. And sure enough, Lincoln, my totally-chill-roll-with-it-sweet-lovin' boy, reminded me of that yesterday and last night.
Perhaps it was too quiet in the house for him, or something, but the child did not want to nap. He fought me going down and once we finally got through that, he slept for a nanosecond and was ready to go again. So, no. No nap or "rest" time for this tired mama who was trying to recoup after Tuesday night's disaster. To be fair, my sleep has recovered quite a bit in the last few weeks, but it seems that every week and a half or so, I have a really crappy night, so I'm in this whole two steps forward/one step back in regards to my sleep (and mental function). And to be fair to LT, his day sleep is always a little erratic, so it wasn't terribly shocking that he didn't nap for very long, but I was holding out hope that he'd cut me some slack. However, if I've learned anything since becoming a parent, it's that babies do not come into this word understanding "slack."
After turning in early last night (under the covers by 9:02!), I thought, Yes! Baby is alseep; here we go! Since Lincoln usually goes from 9:30 to 5 or 6ish, I though I was going to get one heck of a long sleep. But I swear, when you have more than one kid, he (or she) can sense when you suddenly aren't so distracted by the others and that is often when they demand your attention. Like last night, when Lincoln decided to start fussing like crazy at 12:30. He never does that, so why last night?! And then, to add to the absurdity of it all, he put himself back down before I could even finish going to the bathroom and getting dressed to go get him to nurse. So I put myself back down and slept well until 5:45 which is apparently the time Harrison has imprinted on my brain as Wake Up time. I will say, though, that is much different to wake up on your own terms at 5:45 than it is to have a preschooler come barging into your bedroom. I was far less tired and was able to just be still in the dark quiet, although it probably helped to not have to hear the toddler screaming for Daddy from her crib, for once, too. And wouldn't you know it? We had to go wake Lincoln at 7 because, seriously, I was about to explode with milk. TMI, yes, but truth in the trenches of nursing, my friends. Truth.
So there you have it. I have no idea how I do it when I have three in the house. And I have no idea how I do it when I have just one, because IT is always different. Every kid. Every day. Everything and everyone is in constant motion and flux, so whether I'm faced with one, two, three, or (gulp) seven, all I can do is whatever works within that moment (because you darn well know it's going to be someone and something different the next).
Friday, October 11, 2013
How Tweet is This?
Let me begin by explaining that I am way old-school and have not joined the masses who hail from the land of Smart Phone. Ben and I both have old slider phones (and he doesn't even have texting on his plan!), if that tells you anything about where we stand. It's not that I'm against them; I just don't want to have to leave my parent's family plan and pay for a data package, plain and simple (Sorry, Mom & Dad! But that's my "I don't wanna grow up!" for the time being).
As it is, being outside the shiny lands of oh-so-quick-to-snark-and-share-pics-of-food known as Instagram and the Twitterverse, leaves me to my point-and-shoot camera, internal commentary, and blog posts. While this is most likely a blessing, for me and mine and you and yours, I decided to give these foreign realms a try yesterday. But I'm doing so here because let's face it, if you read my stuff, um EVER, you know I'm a wordy girl and sticking to 140 characters isn't likely. Plus, it felt like a good day for some snark and random thoughts and images, so here is my first attempt at (fake) Tweets and (filter-less) Instagrams [Disclaimer: I'm not making fun of people who use these social media outlets. This is really what my day would have looked like, had I documented it on T&I]:
5:11 a.m.: Baby crying in my dreams was really in my house. 4-yr-old up the second Baby went back down. Good Morning, America! [ha! my first attempt & I hit 115 characters, according to the Word doc I opened to check; victory is mine!]
7:00 a.m.: Brushed my hair before shower; Holy FallOut, Batman! Someone remind me - how long does the post-baby shed last?
7:50 a.m.: 4-yr-old wastes two "servings" of toothpaste; cries as tho world has ended. I wonder where I need to travel to find vodka and 5:00 p.m. [for the record, I can't stand vodka or any hard alcohol, really, but you get the idea. also, I could never survive with hashtags; I would totally need these lengthy descriptor tweets to follow each one of my posts.]
8:15 a.m.: Fashion faux pax is not the white pants after Labor Day but that white pants for toddlers even exist. #firsttimewearing #nevergoingtobewhiteagain #justbleachit #MJforever [jt & jf were right - hashtags are ridiculous!] [oh, wait? do hashtags need to fall into the 140 character limit? #drat!]
8:45 a.m.: Full Sippy Cup Fail: attempting to turn sideways to put on lid. Counter, cupboard, and floor, now clean.
10:00 a.m.: Decaf Mocha from Starbucks? Love me my chiro appts. that put me in GI and in range for this treat! #caffeinewouldbebetter #nursing!
10:45 a.m: Chiro visit defeated by pushing 60#s in stroller and babywearing 12 more on my chest. #70degreesandgorgeousinNE #workit!
11:50 a.m.: Eating tator tots and "artisan" tortilla chips for lunch. One of those required turning on the oven, so I cooked, right? #notkidding #reallymylunch [at least the kids got some protein with their meals!]
12:10 p.m.: First ModCloth order delivered. "Pumped" for upcoming Halloween party! #atleastmyanklesdon'tstilllookpreggers #awesomecostume!
1:10 p.m.: Both little Littles down for naps. WINNING!
1:30 p.m.: Snuggles and books with HD; new generation Berenstain Bears NOT as good as the originals. Using the phrase "Namby Pamby" in a book? WTH?
2:00 p.m.: Even when I give him screen time, he wants to be close. REALCLOSE. #LoveHim #EvenmorethanhelovesAngryBirds
2:15 p.m.: 4-yr-old selfie! Hilarious!
3:10 p.m.: Waking up littlest Littles because, of course, they would sleep long on the day we have plans to meet friends!
3:40 p.m.: Playdate with friends and their kids at our beloved Children's Museum! Who am I kidding? This is as much for me as it is for them!
5:15 p.m.: Leftovers. They're what's for dinner.
6:30 p.m.: Getting spruced up for girls' night out. #birthdays are the best #40isthenew25
8:30 p.m.: Had to leave girls' night before I turned into a (milky) pumpkin. #dutycalls
9:30 p.m.: Confession: the rate at which I adore my children's feet is borderline unhealthy. Probably going to feel differently when they are teenagers.
10:10 p.m.: Little Buddy is down for the night. Time for Mama to turn in, too. #dayisdone #whyamIstilltyping?
And there you have it. Obviously I would never actually tweet this much even if I did tweet, but that's my day, and my life, in 140 characters or less, in 19 posts. #awesomeness #lifeisneverdull
As it is, being outside the shiny lands of oh-so-quick-to-snark-and-share-pics-of-food known as Instagram and the Twitterverse, leaves me to my point-and-shoot camera, internal commentary, and blog posts. While this is most likely a blessing, for me and mine and you and yours, I decided to give these foreign realms a try yesterday. But I'm doing so here because let's face it, if you read my stuff, um EVER, you know I'm a wordy girl and sticking to 140 characters isn't likely. Plus, it felt like a good day for some snark and random thoughts and images, so here is my first attempt at (fake) Tweets and (filter-less) Instagrams [Disclaimer: I'm not making fun of people who use these social media outlets. This is really what my day would have looked like, had I documented it on T&I]:
5:11 a.m.: Baby crying in my dreams was really in my house. 4-yr-old up the second Baby went back down. Good Morning, America! [ha! my first attempt & I hit 115 characters, according to the Word doc I opened to check; victory is mine!]
7:00 a.m.: Brushed my hair before shower; Holy FallOut, Batman! Someone remind me - how long does the post-baby shed last?
7:50 a.m.: 4-yr-old wastes two "servings" of toothpaste; cries as tho world has ended. I wonder where I need to travel to find vodka and 5:00 p.m. [for the record, I can't stand vodka or any hard alcohol, really, but you get the idea. also, I could never survive with hashtags; I would totally need these lengthy descriptor tweets to follow each one of my posts.]
8:15 a.m.: Fashion faux pax is not the white pants after Labor Day but that white pants for toddlers even exist. #firsttimewearing #nevergoingtobewhiteagain #justbleachit #MJforever [jt & jf were right - hashtags are ridiculous!] [oh, wait? do hashtags need to fall into the 140 character limit? #drat!]
10:00 a.m.: Decaf Mocha from Starbucks? Love me my chiro appts. that put me in GI and in range for this treat! #caffeinewouldbebetter #nursing!
11:50 a.m.: Eating tator tots and "artisan" tortilla chips for lunch. One of those required turning on the oven, so I cooked, right? #notkidding #reallymylunch [at least the kids got some protein with their meals!]
12:10 p.m.: First ModCloth order delivered. "Pumped" for upcoming Halloween party! #atleastmyanklesdon'tstilllookpreggers #awesomecostume!
1:30 p.m.: Snuggles and books with HD; new generation Berenstain Bears NOT as good as the originals. Using the phrase "Namby Pamby" in a book? WTH?
2:00 p.m.: Even when I give him screen time, he wants to be close. REALCLOSE. #LoveHim #EvenmorethanhelovesAngryBirds
3:40 p.m.: Playdate with friends and their kids at our beloved Children's Museum! Who am I kidding? This is as much for me as it is for them!
5:15 p.m.: Leftovers. They're what's for dinner.
6:30 p.m.: Getting spruced up for girls' night out. #birthdays are the best #40isthenew25
9:30 p.m.: Confession: the rate at which I adore my children's feet is borderline unhealthy. Probably going to feel differently when they are teenagers.
10:10 p.m.: Little Buddy is down for the night. Time for Mama to turn in, too. #dayisdone #whyamIstilltyping?
And there you have it. Obviously I would never actually tweet this much even if I did tweet, but that's my day, and my life, in 140 characters or less, in 19 posts. #awesomeness #lifeisneverdull
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
In Her Shoes
A week ago, after a quick lesson from a friend on exactly how to load a baby in an Ergo carrier without the help of another adult, Raegan and Lincoln and I took an epic Toddler Walk around our neighborhood and to the local park. EPIC. We went for it because apparently I did such an amazing job of getting LT in the Ergo that he instantly fell asleep. Since the baby was already napping and I was hands-free, I asked Raegan if she wanted to go outside. Her enthusiastic "YESH!" led us out the door and before I knew it, toddling our way down the sidewalk. We're about five or six blocks from the park and we covered that ground fairly quickly, or as quickly as an almost two-year-old in Crocs can go (which, when she wants it to be, is remarkably fast!). Part of the way there she held on to my finger and part of it was just her weaving her way down the path. Since our morning was totally open, I was totally OK with this unexpected outing.
And, since we were in no rush, I decided to let it really be all about Raegan. If she wanted to sit down on the sidewalk and look up at the trees, she sat and looked. If she wanted to go walk by the ducks resting beside the pond, we braved the poop-laden grass and visited the ducks. If she wanted to walk up on the little concrete wall while holding my hand and then jump down, she balanced and leapt (for four or five times and then I had to gently prod her along to the next great adventure because seriously, visions of heads cracking open stay with a mama!). And whether or not she wanted to charm all the old folks out for a Wednesday morning stroll, she did. It was seriously an awesome walk. Until it wasn't.
When you add up the five or six blocks to get to the park and then the half-loop that is at least a half-mile (or maybe more) to get turned back in the direction of our house, Raegan was a dang trooper. She walked that entire way which is a lot of steps for a petite little peanut. It was just as we were starting the five or six blocks home that I realized she was done. Not because she told me so; that would have been too easy. In almost-two-yr-old speak "I'm done" sounds a lot more like wailing and looks a lot more like a little girl darting into the street and wanting anything but her mama's hand.
Thankfully I had enough sleep under my belt and understanding in my head to realize she wasn't purposely trying to be rotten; she was just spent after a major outing. So I asked if she wanted a ride and when I got a teary-eyed, whimpery "Yesh" as my answer, I hoisted her onto my hip. All while still wearing Lincoln on my chest, mind you! And like that, I hauled them both home. I was hot and sweaty and had a really sore hip by the time we got there, but I was still so proud of all of us. Even with the exhausting ending, it was a beautiful experience. Like I said, it was epic.
This week, it was suggested to me that going on a walk by myself every day, even for just 10 or 15 minutes might make a world of difference, especially in regards to my sleep. Even though that sounds almost too simple to be true, I decided to give it a shot. While things have been better for me, I still have nights where I just can't shut it down and then end up getting very, very little sleep because I spend so much time freaking out about falling asleep to actually do so. It is beyond mind boggling and frustrating to find yourself so exhausted and yet the only one awake in a totally quiet house. Frankly, it feels quite unfair, too. So I figured the 10-15 minute walk certainly couldn't hurt and would definitely be worth it if it helped in any way, shape, or form.
While I still have no idea how it is going to impact my sleep long-term, I have to say, I'm a believer in the benefits. I did my first walk around the neighborhood last night and the whole experience, much like my walk with Raegan and Lincoln, was beautiful. But in such different ways.
First of all, it was beautiful because I resisted my temptation to take something (or someone) with me. Apparently I'm not real good or real comfortable with being alone. I want to have a partner by my side or a phone in my hand or the iPod in my ears when I walk. For someone who craves time to herself all day, every day, I find this whole situation pretty ironic. But here's the thing: if I go out for a walk without any of those devices or distractions, I am truly in my head. And that's not always an easy place to be.
For one, I feel like I should be accomplishing something else with my time besides just walking. That means that listening to music or talking to someone, in person or on the phone, makes sense to my forever multi-tasking mind. But clearly, based on my poor sleep since Lincoln's birth, my mind needs something else, something less. I need the wide-open-fresh-air-just-with-myself time. So I am glad I was brave and set out with no electronics and no company so I could realize just how much I really needed that.
As I walked, without distraction, I was able to notice the world around me and the world within me. Taking in the cool fall air, the steady Nebraska wind, and all the sounds of dogs and cars and people around felt good. It also felt good to just let my mind run as I walked. One of my sleep issues in the last few weeks has been my inability to get to sleep at night. What I realized during my walk, when I let my mind go where it wanted, was that because I am never alone during the day, I really don't know how to be in my own head. So no wonder my head has been fighting that when my body finally stops moving and is ready for bed; my mind is all "I don't think so!" and takes far too much liberty with the quiet, leaving me checking the clock and freaking out about not sleeping. Perhaps if I can give myself more of that quiet on daily walks, I can give myself more peace at night, as well.
The quick, solo walk was beautiful, too, in that it really did leave me feeling physically refreshed (perhaps because I wasn't pushing a stroller or lugging a child or both?!). As I crossed the street to head back up our driveway and into the house, my head felt lighter and my mind seemed more calm. Again, I know this all sounds too simple and too good to be true, but it also felt too good and too simple to not try to continue. When you have three babies in under five years, you learn to appreciate the simple and the good. And for now, I think the walks are going to help me do exactly that.
And, since we were in no rush, I decided to let it really be all about Raegan. If she wanted to sit down on the sidewalk and look up at the trees, she sat and looked. If she wanted to go walk by the ducks resting beside the pond, we braved the poop-laden grass and visited the ducks. If she wanted to walk up on the little concrete wall while holding my hand and then jump down, she balanced and leapt (for four or five times and then I had to gently prod her along to the next great adventure because seriously, visions of heads cracking open stay with a mama!). And whether or not she wanted to charm all the old folks out for a Wednesday morning stroll, she did. It was seriously an awesome walk. Until it wasn't.
When you add up the five or six blocks to get to the park and then the half-loop that is at least a half-mile (or maybe more) to get turned back in the direction of our house, Raegan was a dang trooper. She walked that entire way which is a lot of steps for a petite little peanut. It was just as we were starting the five or six blocks home that I realized she was done. Not because she told me so; that would have been too easy. In almost-two-yr-old speak "I'm done" sounds a lot more like wailing and looks a lot more like a little girl darting into the street and wanting anything but her mama's hand.
Thankfully I had enough sleep under my belt and understanding in my head to realize she wasn't purposely trying to be rotten; she was just spent after a major outing. So I asked if she wanted a ride and when I got a teary-eyed, whimpery "Yesh" as my answer, I hoisted her onto my hip. All while still wearing Lincoln on my chest, mind you! And like that, I hauled them both home. I was hot and sweaty and had a really sore hip by the time we got there, but I was still so proud of all of us. Even with the exhausting ending, it was a beautiful experience. Like I said, it was epic.
This week, it was suggested to me that going on a walk by myself every day, even for just 10 or 15 minutes might make a world of difference, especially in regards to my sleep. Even though that sounds almost too simple to be true, I decided to give it a shot. While things have been better for me, I still have nights where I just can't shut it down and then end up getting very, very little sleep because I spend so much time freaking out about falling asleep to actually do so. It is beyond mind boggling and frustrating to find yourself so exhausted and yet the only one awake in a totally quiet house. Frankly, it feels quite unfair, too. So I figured the 10-15 minute walk certainly couldn't hurt and would definitely be worth it if it helped in any way, shape, or form.
While I still have no idea how it is going to impact my sleep long-term, I have to say, I'm a believer in the benefits. I did my first walk around the neighborhood last night and the whole experience, much like my walk with Raegan and Lincoln, was beautiful. But in such different ways.
First of all, it was beautiful because I resisted my temptation to take something (or someone) with me. Apparently I'm not real good or real comfortable with being alone. I want to have a partner by my side or a phone in my hand or the iPod in my ears when I walk. For someone who craves time to herself all day, every day, I find this whole situation pretty ironic. But here's the thing: if I go out for a walk without any of those devices or distractions, I am truly in my head. And that's not always an easy place to be.
For one, I feel like I should be accomplishing something else with my time besides just walking. That means that listening to music or talking to someone, in person or on the phone, makes sense to my forever multi-tasking mind. But clearly, based on my poor sleep since Lincoln's birth, my mind needs something else, something less. I need the wide-open-fresh-air-just-with-myself time. So I am glad I was brave and set out with no electronics and no company so I could realize just how much I really needed that.
As I walked, without distraction, I was able to notice the world around me and the world within me. Taking in the cool fall air, the steady Nebraska wind, and all the sounds of dogs and cars and people around felt good. It also felt good to just let my mind run as I walked. One of my sleep issues in the last few weeks has been my inability to get to sleep at night. What I realized during my walk, when I let my mind go where it wanted, was that because I am never alone during the day, I really don't know how to be in my own head. So no wonder my head has been fighting that when my body finally stops moving and is ready for bed; my mind is all "I don't think so!" and takes far too much liberty with the quiet, leaving me checking the clock and freaking out about not sleeping. Perhaps if I can give myself more of that quiet on daily walks, I can give myself more peace at night, as well.
The quick, solo walk was beautiful, too, in that it really did leave me feeling physically refreshed (perhaps because I wasn't pushing a stroller or lugging a child or both?!). As I crossed the street to head back up our driveway and into the house, my head felt lighter and my mind seemed more calm. Again, I know this all sounds too simple and too good to be true, but it also felt too good and too simple to not try to continue. When you have three babies in under five years, you learn to appreciate the simple and the good. And for now, I think the walks are going to help me do exactly that.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Almost There
Somehow the first week of October is already behind us and it occurred to me that not only have I been quiet here lately, but we are less than a month from RL's second birthday. How did that happen?! It would appear that Miss Raegan is anticipating the upcoming arrival of Two as she has turned into quite the toddler here recently. She is talking, talking, talking all the time; so much so, that when folks who see her on a regular basis miss a week with her, they are amazed at her speech the next time they're around her. And she is quite proud of herself, as she should be, for all the things she is doing on her own - putting on shoes, for example and even her own pants yesterday (never mind that they were backwards). "Me did it!" is what we often hear after these accomplishments and of course they are always followed with her signature, huge grin that is so darn infectious. How could we not celebrate (with) her?!
Of course, with the Twos (and, as my friends so rightly predicted, the Threes and the Fours), comes some muddy water to navigate. There is the flip side of "Me do it!" when she no longer wants help with tasks but doesn't quite have the patience or fine motor skills to achieve said tasks. And there is also the crazy making, "Me want!" "No want!" that she's been doing lately, especially at the table. It doesn't matter what you offer the child. She will first declare, loudly, that she doesn't want it. When you then comply, she shrieks about your mistreatment and failure, demanding the exact item that she just denied. And rinse and repeat. A dozen or more times a day. I mean, I love the girl to pieces, but seriously, my eardrums and my patience are fraying.
But then there is Raegan's running. Oh, be-still my heart, how I love to see a toddler run. The little arms pumping furiously, the little legs taking choppy and chunky, just-as-fast-as-they-can-go little steps that really don't seem too quick until you're in a parking lot and then, look out! The girl's got speed! But really, parking lot heart attacks aside, I adore watching her run. Whether it is through the house or in the yard or after her brother or her daddy, Raegan running always makes me smile. She's always been my bubbly little peanut, full of life and sass, and to see her run is to see all of that come together in pigtail bouncing, pure joy, especially when she hollers: "Me running! Me running!" [But seriously, back to the parking lot thing....I once mocked mothers who used leashes and now I am thinking I might need one to get her to and from preschool pick up when we collect Harrison because, dang, the girl can get away from me quick.]
As with every change of the season (hello, sweaters and SmartWool socks; how I've missed you!) and every birthday, I get both excited and nostalgic. I love that Raegan is gaining independence because it literally saves my back and it is just so enjoyable to see her taking on the world. At the same time, I can't believe my baby girl is already now closer to being a big kid than a baby. Again, how did that happen?! There's no good/clear answer other than life happened. And some days we have been able to slow down enough to recognize and appreciate that while others have been a bit of a blur, lost to survival mode, but that too is life (especially with three Littles under the age of five in the house!). So while I know Three will be here in a flash, I hope we can savor Two a bit. Of course there will be challenges and tantrums and who knows what else, but no one ever said growing (or parenting) was easy. And of course there can certainly be beauty throughout it all, too; especially with this little love driving the bus:
Of course, with the Twos (and, as my friends so rightly predicted, the Threes and the Fours), comes some muddy water to navigate. There is the flip side of "Me do it!" when she no longer wants help with tasks but doesn't quite have the patience or fine motor skills to achieve said tasks. And there is also the crazy making, "Me want!" "No want!" that she's been doing lately, especially at the table. It doesn't matter what you offer the child. She will first declare, loudly, that she doesn't want it. When you then comply, she shrieks about your mistreatment and failure, demanding the exact item that she just denied. And rinse and repeat. A dozen or more times a day. I mean, I love the girl to pieces, but seriously, my eardrums and my patience are fraying.
But then there is Raegan's running. Oh, be-still my heart, how I love to see a toddler run. The little arms pumping furiously, the little legs taking choppy and chunky, just-as-fast-as-they-can-go little steps that really don't seem too quick until you're in a parking lot and then, look out! The girl's got speed! But really, parking lot heart attacks aside, I adore watching her run. Whether it is through the house or in the yard or after her brother or her daddy, Raegan running always makes me smile. She's always been my bubbly little peanut, full of life and sass, and to see her run is to see all of that come together in pigtail bouncing, pure joy, especially when she hollers: "Me running! Me running!" [But seriously, back to the parking lot thing....I once mocked mothers who used leashes and now I am thinking I might need one to get her to and from preschool pick up when we collect Harrison because, dang, the girl can get away from me quick.]
As with every change of the season (hello, sweaters and SmartWool socks; how I've missed you!) and every birthday, I get both excited and nostalgic. I love that Raegan is gaining independence because it literally saves my back and it is just so enjoyable to see her taking on the world. At the same time, I can't believe my baby girl is already now closer to being a big kid than a baby. Again, how did that happen?! There's no good/clear answer other than life happened. And some days we have been able to slow down enough to recognize and appreciate that while others have been a bit of a blur, lost to survival mode, but that too is life (especially with three Littles under the age of five in the house!). So while I know Three will be here in a flash, I hope we can savor Two a bit. Of course there will be challenges and tantrums and who knows what else, but no one ever said growing (or parenting) was easy. And of course there can certainly be beauty throughout it all, too; especially with this little love driving the bus:
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