It's a perpetual challenge for me to come up with a fresh and exciting Christmas gift idea for my husband. He's the type of guy who 1.) doesn't need a lot of things and 2.) if he does need something, just buys it for himself and tells me a month later. It's one of the reasons I love him so very much, and also one of the things that drives me crazy. So this year, Babe, I've written you a little poem set to the tune of my favorite Christmas song. It goes without saying, but I feel like I should address it in a public forum. And a 1...2...3...4...
About my appearance I used to be prideful
Which makes me somewhat spiteful
For since now that I'm a Mom, you know
I've let it go let it go let it go.
Oh it doesn't show signs of stopping,
So out of photos I'll keep on cropping.
Please keep that flash on low,
Because I've let it go let it go let it go.
When we finally kiss the kids goodnight
And they're tucked in bed so warm,
Instead of hugging you tight
I should go jogging in that storm .
Oh I really wish that I were lying,
But my looks have done some good bye-ing.
I'm thankful you still love me so
Despite that I've let it go let it go let it go.
Cheers to New Year's resolutions!
PS - I'm not terribly creative, but sometimes it's fun to look back.
2012's Christmas post
2010's Christmas post
McMurrey with an E-Y
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
The Last of the Nurse-hicans
I remember explicitly, my thought
process. It was nine months ago - that day in March - when my extremely-large-almost-ten-pound-man-infant
latched perfectly at ten minutes of age…”How am I going to ever wean this one?”
It’s an interesting phenomenon. At first the mother thinks, “I can’t possibly
nurse this baby all day! I need to be doing other things! I can’t hold you all
day! All I want is my body back!”
THEN…in a few short months, when
that same baby can’t be cajoled onto the breast despite her best efforts, the
same mother thinks, “I’m not ready to be finished with this. You still need me.
You’re still a baby. I still NEED you to need ME.” (Abject despair. Muffled
cries).) What a juxtaposition, right? Forgive me. I just weaned my last baby.
CORRECTION: I just weaned my last baby, except it was entirely his own idea.
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself.
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself without my consent.
CLARFICATION: I am rendered useless. Inert. Done.
CORRECTION: I just weaned my last baby, except it was entirely his own idea.
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself.
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself without my consent.
CLARFICATION: I am rendered useless. Inert. Done.
I was warned, you see. I was
warned that the second child may not nurse to the magic twelve month mark – AKA
the age that laughs in the face of all
potential ear infections. I was warned that the second child has so many
more distractions than the first. Namely due to the fact that the mother no
longer has the luxury of sitting on the couch while watching BRAVO and nursing
for countless, consecutive, uninterrupted hours because the mother now has a
toddler to keep from their untimely, yet ever imminent death.
Essentially, this milestone
is just the first of many whereupon my child separates himself from me. Do I
want him to rely upon me forever? No, of course not. Was I prepared for my baby
(because that’s what he’ll always be) to start the severing process so soon?
No, of course not. Is this the face of a child ready to be a big boy? Oh my,
yes it is.Monday, November 4, 2013
A Farewell to Naps
Once upon a time in Napland there
was a lovely little girl who took naps regularly in the afternoon. Sometimes
the naps lasted two hours and sometimes they lasted 45 minutes, but still
she took them. And they were glorious. And the people in the household rejoiced.
This same little girl who napped was a pleasure to be around in the evening, and her parents did not count down the hours until it was bedtime. Evenings were filled with leisurely dinners, stories, and bath time. The naps were held in high regard by the household and the parents hoped they would never leave.
(This is just a small example of her goings on while she is supposed to be "napping".)
This same little girl who napped was a pleasure to be around in the evening, and her parents did not count down the hours until it was bedtime. Evenings were filled with leisurely dinners, stories, and bath time. The naps were held in high regard by the household and the parents hoped they would never leave.
Now we find ourselves brutally
ejected from Napland – never to return. It was a gradual departure,
nonetheless, we are gone, baby, gone. Honestly, I’m really surprised that my
lovely little girl doesn’t nap anymore. She was always good about going down
for them consistently and got quality rest. However, as I write this, I am
literally listening to her bang around in her room like Casper the Friendly Ghost.
I fully expect to go in there in thirty minutes and find she has nailed every
toy she owns to the ceiling.
It is what it is. Our afternoons
are lessons in Managing Meltdowns 101, and I am the beleaguered instructor. At
first I was wildly irritated at the discharge from Napland, now I just adjust
bedtime up an hour or two…or three. A phase, a phase - one that I hope to say “farewell”
to promptly.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Ummmm...Sooooo
I’m not going to flatter myself and
assume that anyone in the blog-o-sphere has noticed that I haven’t posted in seven
months. The funny thing is, I can’t really tell you what I’ve been doing
instead of blogging. Our beautiful son, Ford Marshall, was born on March 13. We
brought him home 20 hours later. Since then…umm...so…I feel like we’ve been busy,
but…it’s all basically a blur.
I can tell you in relative terms
what we have been doing a lot of in the past seven months. Since I think mostly
in fragments lately, I give you a poorly punctuated list.
·
Eating
o
Adults – primarily
frozen meals - prepared by Dad while Mom nurses a fussy baby - accompanied with a lot of wine if it’s past
5:00 (4:30 some days if I’m being honest)
o
Toddler – primarily
macaroni & cheese with some type of frozen vegetable coupled with the
occasional PB&J, and a lot of popsicles
o
Baby – breast milk,
formula, rice cereal, pureed vegetables
& fruit, sometimes all at once, ad infinitum, rinse & repeat
& fruit, sometimes all at once, ad infinitum, rinse & repeat
·
Television watching
o
Adults – mostly
DVR’ed shows that we can’t watch while the Toddler is awake
o
Toddler – has
(unfortunately) become all too familiar with the daily viewing schedules of
Disney Jr, Nick Jr, and Sprout
o
Baby – is entirely
too busy watching the Toddler watching television to notice there is a
television in the room
·
Sleeping
o
Adults – Have once
again begun accustomed to being woken up (almost) nightly by one of the
following:
§
Toddler – had a
massive sleep regression when the following came along:
·
Baby – if we’d all
just stay asleep would probably be just fine
o
Dogs – roam the
house like Highlander trying to find a quiet spot, but never neglect to rattle
their loud collars/tags while doing so...thanks guys
·
Conclusion
o
Have the last seven
months been wonderful?
§
Yes, most
definitely.
o
Would I want to
relive them?
§
Hell no.
§
Are you kidding?
o
Are we finished
having babies?
§
Hell yes.
§
Again, are you
kidding?
o
Do I feel incredibly
blessed?
§
Beyond belief.
o
Do I think I’ll blog
again in 2013?
§
Jury’s out.
Our clan on one of our best days
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Twas the night before the induction
Twas the night before the induction,
when all through the house
All the inhabitants were anxious, even the gosh darn mouse
While visions of new baby brother danced in her head
We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
But a miniature Ben, in eight tiny pounds, right here
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
Dear Lord, I really hope it all turns out this way
Ready or not, tomorrow is our son’s birthday
All the inhabitants were anxious, even the gosh darn mouse
The nursing bras were hung by
the shower with care
In hopes that the newborn would breastfeed with flair
The two year old was nestled all
snug in her bedIn hopes that the newborn would breastfeed with flair
While visions of new baby brother danced in her head
And daddy with his cocktail and
also a hospital map
Had just settled down from doingallthethingsIaskedofhimbeforethisbabyisbornin12hoursforanap
When out from my phone the alarm
rose such a clatterHad just settled down from doingallthethingsIaskedofhimbeforethisbabyisbornin12hoursforanap
We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
Away to the hospital we flew
like a flash
Tore open the L&D door and threw up my sash
Then what to my wondering eyes
should appearTore open the L&D door and threw up my sash
But a miniature Ben, in eight tiny pounds, right here
His eyes how they twinkled, his
dimples how merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry
He had arrived safely, to our
families we gave a whistleHis cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
Dear Lord, I really hope it all turns out this way
Ready or not, tomorrow is our son’s birthday
Monday, February 25, 2013
The longest nine months of my life
Is it March yet?
During the summer, we were actively
trying to conceive. I found out I was pregnant at all of three days in.
Thankfully, unlike my first pregnancy, this time we’ve reached “full term” or
37 weeks. Bookended by those two facts, it feels like I’ve been pregnant my
entire life.
People I haven’t seen in awhile
are like, “You’re still pregnant?” Sometimes it’s fun to mess with those people
and tell them I delivered two months ago and watch the horror crawl across
their faces. But mostly I just smile, say that I have three weeks until my due
date, and waddle away muttering obscenities.
Did I willingly sign up to be
pregnant again? Yes. Was I aware of the gestational period length of our
species? Yes. Was I prepared for the discomfort and inelegance of the last
month? Most definitely no.
All manner of surprises have
been waiting for me this time around. Weekly pelvic exams! More blood tests!
More time for weight gain! Swelling! Yahoo! I’m beginning to think that delivering my first child at
35 weeks was a present, not the worst thing to ever happen to me. We’ve agreed
that this will be our last child, so assuming that everything goes smoothly, this
is the last time I’ll be pregnant. I try to remember this as I struggle for
breath after walking across the room.
Kudos to all women who have gone
the distance of a 40 week pregnancy. I never knew what an effort this last leg
was. Hopefully my next post will be about how I went into labor at 37.5 weeks.
Thank you to my sister in law
for taking the only belly picture of this entire pregnancy. I know I’ll enjoy
looking at this at some point.Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Adventures in Potty Training
Throughout Marryn’s short
lifetime, people have continually told me that she will “do ______ in her own
time”.
First was in the NICU when
she wouldn’t eat. The neonatologists, nurses, speech therapists, pastors, parents,
strangers, janitors, etc. all told me that she would start eating in her own
time. The doctors described a “light bulb” that would eventually turn on. Sure
enough, at about a week old, the light bulb turned on, and she ate continuously
for a year. Come to think of it, she really hasn’t stopped yet.
Next came “sleep training”. Despite
the advice of the 200+ books I read on the subject, I nursed Marryn to sleep
for the first several months of her life. When I came to my senses, I remember worrying
about how I would transition to laying her down for the night while she was
still awake. I shouldn’t have bothered because somewhere in between the 8th
and 9th month, she would quit nursing, sit up and gesture (for lack
of a better term) towards her bed. She’s been going to sleep on her own ever
since.
Fast forward a few months. As we
approached Marryn’s first birthday, I worried about how I’d wean her. Was she
ready? Was I? Should I do parent led weaning or child led? Every time I thought
about it, I’d end up in tears. Frankly, I was about to let the dogs decide when
to close the Mommy kitchen, and then she just quit being interested in nursing
- all on her own.
I could give several more
examples of coming to a milestone on her own terms…when she began smiling,
saying Mama & Dada, crawling, walking/running/careening, and the list goes
on. We’ll be going along with the same behavior for months on end, and I begin
to wonder when something new will finally happen, and then it does - like
overnight. Dad calls it the “stair step”, and it’s a fitting description.
Why was I surprised then, when
two weeks ago (after trying for SIX
months) Marryn independently decided she would like to use the potty and put on
big girl panties? I was so happy I almost cried. I tried to not get too excited
about it. Maybe it was just a fluke. However, here we are, still going strong. She’s even successfully worn big girl panties
outside the house and used public restrooms – much to my delight and
simultaneous horror. Thank God for Lysol wipes.
I’m not saying parenting is
easy, but sometimes you do luck out and things fall into place when they
should. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that while I can’t force my
child into the next developmental step, I am becoming more comfortable with
waiting for her to reach it - all in her own time.
We've been doing a fair amount of car-pottying around here. When you gotta go, you gotta go.
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