I am toying with the idea of doing the open adoption interview project. I really want to get more into the swing of things, but I'm worried that if I commit, I won't be able to find the time that I need to do it.

Taking care of 2 kids and moving 500 miles is kicking my butt. Everything is getting done, and the kids are doing well, but I mostly walk around feeling like no one is getting everything they need from me. Everyone is getting short changed, it feels like, including myself. 90% of the time I remember to tell myself that it's temporary, Will is only 2 months old - we're still in the thick of it, that we'll find our groove, that everyone is ok. But sometimes, like last night, I feel like a big fat failure. I stood in the kitchen last night, walking a fussy baby and singing my standard Irish lullabies, and wept. Not out of exhaustion, or frustration, or want of anything to be different. I was just plain sad that I couldn't tuck Jeb into bed, that my husband is desperate for some attention, that Will's experience of being a newborn is so unlike Jeb's. I wish, that when I'm tending to one of them (Jeb, Will, or Bennett), that time would freeze for the other 2 and that way they all get more of my time. Ah, well, the balance will come.

I really need to post some pictures. Will is such a chunk, and Jeb is perfection. Overwhelm and crazy shit aside, life is good.

Quick Takes.

I don't have much time for, well, much, lately. But I hate that so much time is flying by without recording any memories.

1. Will is 8 weeks old. Holy shit. This newborn period went by so much faster than with Jeb. I must admit, I'm happy it's going by fast right now. Confession: I don't love the newborn thing. Sorry.

2. We moved to Virginia! We lived here, in this house, and then moved to Massachusetts, and have now moved back. It's a looooonnng story, but suffice to say, we are thrilled to be back.

3. I've gone running a few times since Will's birth. It feels amazing, and I really want to keep it up. I may run my first road race in almost a year in a few weeks. We'll see.

4. I don't have a job yet and I am LOVING it.

5. Jeb is adjusting really really well, but I still feel like I don't have enough minutes in the day to make sure I'm giving him enough of myself.

6. I have no idea how to balance 2 kids. There is no groove, no routine, no sense of the new "normal". Esp since we just moved 500 miles, and one kid was only 6 weeks old. Crazy.

7. We are going to State Fair tomorrow. Heaven.

These Are The Days

I've had this thought drift through my brain almost daily for the last several months "... these are the days...", and then I get the Cranberries' song stuck in my head ;)

My Grandfather died 2 weeks ago, and we had to up and fly to Michigan for 5 days. I was 34 weeks pregnant, flying (with delays and complications) with a 3 year old and all the fun that entails. I had to see my father from whom I've been estranged for years and years. It was loaded and draining, to say the least.

I'm miserably pregnant at this point. I'm sick of hearing myself talk about heartburn and insomnia. I'm withdrawing from friends and family because, well, I'm sick of hearing myself complain. I'm ready for this birth, but know there could still be weeks left of pregnancy, and I'm still a little terrified of the reality of 2 kids.

Bennett is in a state of career crisis, and about to make YET ANOTHER gigantic shift, which has the potential to cause some major upheaval in our lives. So there's that.

And still? This song keeps popping up in my head. These are the days, to remember...

I am having the time of my life. These are the best days of my life, the days I'll miss. I love them. I love the day to day routine of raising a family. I hear my aunts, and "older" women whose kids are grown talk about the days when their kids were young, and how much they miss those times. This season of life is intense, for sure, and it's only going to get more intense in the near future. Some days I lose my cool, and longingly think back to B's and my carefree, child free Fun Days, but I truly enjoy my life more now than I did then. I'd like to live ONE of those days every now and again, but I'd already love to go back and live these three and a half YEARS over again.

Late pregnancy is a tough place to be. I'm big, hot, tired, heartburn-y, short on patience, ready but scared, and uncomfortable. But it is thrilling and amazing, too.

Life is sometimes messy, and nothing ever seems to line up into some semblance of "normal and predictable"... but whatever. These are the days, and I'm really loving them.

... and with that? My son wakes and calls for his mama. I'm it, I'm the only one who'll do right now. And quite frankly, I think that's pretty awesome right now.

My Mother Voice

I've been surprised and a bit confused by how much I'm looking forward to birthing this baby. Then the other day I had a thought: this is the first pregnancy where I've not dreaded having the baby on some level. With Colin, birth = goodbye, so obviously I was not really looking forward to delivering. With Jeb, I was just plain terrified. I was terrified of being a mom, I was terrified that I wouldn't like it. This time? I am looking forward to all of it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just having amnesia, and if that's the case sobeit.

A few weeks ago, I was having some quiet time in my bed, and started talking to the baby. I heard myself talking, and I started weeping on the spot. I heard a mother's voice; I heard my Mother Voice. When I used to talk to Jeb pre-birth, I was akward and timid and unsure. This time? I knew what to say. I knew how to say it. I knew what the baby needed to hear. I could recognize the mama-love I was offering. I felt secure and calm and happy.

I used to think that having your first baby must be the most special, spiritual, and amazing experience. I am finding this pregnancy to be all of those things, so much more than my other 2. Every time I look at Jeb's face, I know exactly what I have to look forward to, and I have an internal "squee!". At least once a day I think to myself I GET TO DO THIS AGAIN!!! I get to do this again. What a beautiful, perfect thought. I love this baby in a way I couldn't love the boys when they were on the inside. I'm a mother now; I know how to love this baby better than I could before. I've been waiting for this baby my whole life.


I love you, baby. This family is so ready for you.

I love having a Mother Voice.


(ps. Is it wrong that I'm really really hoping that my being in such a great emotional space will encourage delivery before 42+1 weeks like Jeb went to? lol!)

precious moments

Lately I linger as I tuck Jeb into bed. I am so mindful (and weepy) of the fact that his time of only-ness is winding down.

There is something magical about those moments just before your little one drifts off to sleep. Their innocence, perfection, and sweetness bring you to your knees in prayers of thanks. And, dang, but their hair smells so good post-bath.

Last night I found it extra hard to walk back downstairs. We snuggled a little longer. I gave a few extra kisses. I was sad that he didn't want to listen to one more story when I offered. I was secretly excited when I heard his little voice call me back upstairs to help him pee. As I tucked him back in, he asked:

If I need help, I can call you, and you will come?

Yes, baby, always.



/weep

Siblings.

When Colin was a toddler, his parents attended a workshop about how/when/why to adopt a second time. They shared with me afterward that they were surprised (and comforted) to get the advice: the question is not so much whether you want to adopt again, the question is whether you want more kids. I thought that was pretty neat, and a very tidy and academic way to simplify the whole thing. I liked it. I liked that it had a nice "normal" ring to it. (I had no real feeling on whether I wanted them to adopt again. I felt about it like I feel about my neighbor having more kids: it's their family, I'm sure they'll make the best decision for them. I didn't feel strongly one way or the other about C having siblings, if I had I probably would have placed him with a couple who was already parenting.) In the end, they chose not to pursue another adoption, and we all went about our business.

Fast forward almost a decade, and to Jeb and me playing in his room.
Jeb (handing me a small toy dump truck): Here, mama, this is for Jeb Baby. (he's convinced the baby's name will also be Jeb.)
Me: Oh, thank you! What a great big brother you are!

I went in the next room to put some clothes away, thinking about what a cool moment we'd just shared, and the Whether To Adopt Again Workshop experience came flooding back.

Whether or not you want to parent more children is SO NOT the only or biggest concern when you are thinking about another adoption. I know I've never been there, but I know how I feel about Jeb. And I know adoptive parents feel that same way about their children. And I know it would have been a much more involved decision between husband and me than just "let's go for it!" one night in November.

I know I wouldn't be talking to Jeb about a baby joining us in the Summer, even if we were matched.

I know I wouldn't be weaving the baby in and out of our play and chat, slowly getting Jeb used to the idea.

I might have to choose between giving Jeb lots of preparation to share his time and space with mommy and daddy, and protecting him from getting his hopes up.

I would have to think about whether I was willing to turn his world upside down on very short notice.

I know there are so many more heavy and complicated emotions I'd be having that I can't even fathom here.

Even if I were to lose the baby right now, that conversation with Jeb would be ten times easier than a conversation about a failed match. Life and death seem a lot easier to explain to a child than potential adoptions and last minute decisions to parent.

For a moment, I put myself in the position of having this desire to give Jeb a sibling, having the excitement of a possibility, and trying to exercise caution by holding that excitement back. What a wild place it was, even for a hypothetical moment. And even in a hypothetical place, I can't imagine what it feels like to put his emotions and hopes on the line, and possibly see them dashed. What a horrible experience that must be.

So, I know this is all terribly awkward, but it was such a powerful "a ha!" moment for me. One that brought me to my knees with gratitude.

I don't know what it's like to be an AP, but I'm pretty sure the decision to adopt again goes far beyond whether or not you simply want more children.

Just a small, but huge moment.

Jeb is currently upstairs playing alone in his bedroom.

Just in case you didn't read that right, or understand the magnitude, I'll say it again: JEB IS CURRENTLY UPSTAIRS PLAYING ALONE IN HIS BEDROOM.

He is chattering to himself, playing with toys, drawing on his whiteboard, and generally occupying himself. This is amazing. And very new.

I'm thrilled. Not just for the spontaneous precious down time for me, that's only about 10% of why I'm happy. I'm so happy for him. He's a mama's boy, a clingy kind of kid, he stays close. For him to be alone, and happy, and to do this voluntarily, is HUGE. I am so excited for him to develop this skill, this ability to be alone but not lonely.

It seems so small, but this is so big for my boy. I am so happy for him :)


(*eta, so in my extra down time I started to play around with my template, but am now called away, and I don't think I like it yet. work in progress.....)

A Brain Dump

There have been several things I've wanted to blog about in the last 10 days, but they've all been competing for space in my head so badly, that I haven't been able to write coherently on any of them. So, I'm just going to brain dump and get over it.

1. An anniversary related to my placement happened this week. On Oct 19, 1997 I got a positive pregnancy test. I was 9w5d. It boggles my mind that I was so far along before taking a test, but I was so young and unaware. And, my cycles were irregular. When I was pregnant with Jeb, by the time I reached 9w5d, I thought to myself geez if I didn't know I were pregnant I'd think I was dying... how did I NOT KNOW? But? Youth and denial are powerful forces. And, pregnancy was so much easier at 17 than 27, ....and so many other things. I should really make a blog post solely about that day.

2. Autumn has been good to my family. B's business is going well. Our personal finances are so much better than they were 6 months ago when I wrote about the crippling money stress. We have had all the typical, awesome, family outings. We've visited the pumpkin patch, picked apples, gone to the County Fair, taken walks through crunching leaves, seen the Jack-O-Lantern display at the zoo, and all that good stuff. Of course, I forgot my camera for every.singe.one. of these awesome memories, but I'm trying not to beat myself up for it ;) We have still to watch Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin while eating donuts and cider (a family tradition), and obviously we are looking forward to trick or treating in a big way. Jeb is dressing up as Captain Hook, and is so unbelievably excited to wear: A red jacket, mama! And a gold hook, mama!! Arrggghh!!

3. I am enjoying Fall on a whole different, much quieter level. I am heeding the pull indoors. Cooking hearty meals in the slow cooker. Snuggling under blankets to early morning cartoons, and to late evening movies/snacks. It feels strangely comforting to retire the herb garden and drink hot tea every afternoon. I'm appreciating my outside running, but am also looking forward to hanging out on the treadmill (no hills!), and reuniting with my yoga videos. The sunsets, albeit much earlier, seem so much more vibrant than I remember from the warmer months. I'm enjoying living in a place that shows me the beauty of every season, and commands my attention.

4. Jeb is at a new, ahem, developmental stage. Oh, boy. I revelled in his lack of 2-year-terribles. However, he is quickly approaching the even-more-difficult-3s. And it's not even that he's difficult, he's just smarter. I've lost my patience with him more in the last 3 weeks than in the last 6 months. My usually effective tactics just aren't working. A perfect example is when we are in the laundry room and it's time to go upstairs, I say Come'on Jeb, let's race! That used to work like a charm, now he looks at me and says Go ahead, mama, you can win while he tries to stay in the basement and play with any number of dangerous tools/equipment/toxins. Or, it used to be that when he fought with me about something, I would tell him that he wasn't being a good listener, and that alone would compel him to comply... now? He tells me I don't want to listen. Oh, ok. We've gone through other developmental transitions, and I know it just takes time for me to learn his new buttons, and for him to learn my new limits, but the middle part is sticky. Last week, one day he went to time out 6 times, because he was trying to call my bluff. The threat of time out used to be all-powerful, and then he woke up one day and decided to test it. That was a tough day. We'll get through, and I'm acutely aware that I need to (a. be consistent and firm, but not lose it, and (b. hug and validate him even more that usual. Let's just say that I'm finding this stage to be challenging, and when I lay my head down at night and think back on the day... if I didn't lose it on him, it's a good day.

5. The election. I won't get political here, but the election is on my mind often. B is a political junkie, so it's ever-present. I'm looking forward to post-11.2.

6. Hormones. I think maybe they should be called Whoremones, because I hate them. I am in the throes of one of the worst PMSs I can remember. I'm def not pregnant this month, which is OK, for a lot of reasons, but the PMS is just a slap in the face.

7. Gratitude. Honestly, I say a prayer of gratitude daily. Not because I think I should, it just happens. In the midst of toddler tantrums, and stressfull/busy schedules, hormones, and daily irritations, I am struck every single day with just how blessed my life is. I am eternally grateful that my "stressors" are: a job that needs my work, a healthy body that loves to exercise, a smart and healthy son who challenges me, a hard working and loving husband who wants some of my time, enough money to pay our bills and provide good food, a home that needs attention.


/end brain dump.

Teasing at 3

Jeb is now in a classroom full of 3 year olds daycare. (They make the transition at 2y9m) He is doing amazingly well; in fact, it's the easiest transition I think we've ever had in his life, like, ever. I am so thrilled and proud and have all those gushy mama feelings that come up simply because your kid is thriving.

Ok, so I have to back up a bit. Starting around a year ago, whenever I painted my toes, Jeb wanted in on the fun. So I painted his toes. For months on end his toe nails were pink, since I paint mine every couple of weeks. Bennett rolled his eyes some, but it was a non-issue. One day Jeb decided he wanted his finger nails painted. So I painted them. Every few weeks he'd ask, and I humored him. See where this is going?

2 year olds don't notice their peers' finger nails. 3 year olds do.

I was heartbroken when his teacher told me he got teased for his pink finger nails. My poor baby was so confused. He said to the Teaser but my mama told me it's ok. << This is where my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. (ok, maybe a tad dramatic, but really maybe not.)

My only reason for heartbreak is that my perfect, wonderful, amazing son was sad in that moment, and confused. That just a little smidge of innocence was stripped. Not only that he experienced teasing, but for something so superficial. These kids are only THREE for crying out loud. Rationally I know it's more about this age learning very concrete gender "rules" than anything else, but irrationally I want to slap the Teaser across the face and double dog dare him to EVER tease my precious again.

On the other hand, what an opportunity. Bennett and I had a really terrific conversation about how to handle teasing, and how to handle when Jeb wants to do something that we know makes him vulnerable out there in the Wild. Like having pink finger nails. Do we care about the nail polish? Of course not. I don't give a shit if Jeb wears a hot pink tutu with purple glitter sequence on it every day of his life. But, I won't let him wear it to school until he understands what he's getting himself into. Also, it's not Jeb's job to be my example to the world that I am super cool with hot pink tutu wearing boys.

It's also been a huge opportunity for really terrific conversations with Jeb. I've casually used it as an example of why we shouldn't tease others. He's been talking a lot more about who in our family is a girl, and who is a boy. I've explained that some people think it's silly for boys to wear nail polish, so for now we'll just keep it on the toes since it doesn't feel good to get teased. He's happy with all of this, and I'm sure he's not understanding most of it still, but I've found it to be very very good practice.

Seriously, though, I had no idea that teasing started quite this young.

Nature v Nurture: A Big Issue Even in Bio Families

Obviously adoption puts an additional spin on the nature v nurture discussion, but it's also a very interesting phenomenon within non-adoptive families.

I think about it a lot. I am coming to the conclusion, more and more, that Jeb has more influence on who I am as a parent, than I have on him as a child.

I'll say that again in another way: My motherhood adapts to Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies, it has not formed Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies.

I started having this feeling in the first couple months of his life. I had all kinds of academic parenting philosophies. And then I was blessed with a child who would not be put down. And slept like shit. And wanted to nurse non stop. So I became that mom in short order; the one who held her baby all the time, and also slept like shit, and nursed her baby anywhere and everywhere. I didn't turn Jeb into that baby, he was born that baby.

He is still that kid. His favorite place is in my lap. I'm sure he would still be nursing had I not weaned. He still sleeps like shit. It's just him. Bennett and I have abandoned many of the theories-that-sound-awesome-until-you-know-the-reality-of-day-to-day-parenting. We've become the parents who Jeb needs, not the other way around.

We actually have had very little effect on who the core of Jeb is. Sure, we've taught him good manners, and appropriate behavior ect, but that doesn't have much to do with who he is as a person. I haven't created his fantastic temperament, or concern for people in distress, or his sense of humor. I like to think we've given him a strong, secure foundation, so that his best traits can shine. I believe that we've created an environment where he is not stressed, but rather curious and playful, which contributes to the development of his smarts and imagination --- but it doesn't create those qualities, those are his.

I was musing to a friend (who has 2 daughters) about Jeb's absolute obsession with basketball, and she made an off hand comment about "conditioning" boys' love of sports. It wasn't mean spirited, but it couldn't have been more wrong. I could care less about basketball, and I don't think my husband has shot a basket since junior high gym class. We've never even followed March Madness. I had nothing to do with 10 month old Jeb pointing at every single basketball hoop in the neighborhood. He is passionate about basketball. And skateboards. And backhoes. And so many other things that I also had nothing to do with.

I wouldn't even dream of crediting myself with this stuff, I love learning about him, I'm not interested in molding him in that way. There are things I do want to "mold": compassion, respect for others, healthy self esteem, determination, you know... all that good stuff. But not his interests. Not his personality. Not his goals.

The other day Jeb said something to my husband that was incredibly sweet and compassionate, and I said to my husband (like I do about 20 times a day), "Isn't he just amazing?!" And my husband said "That's all you, babe, he's so great because you do such a good job with him". I loved the compliment at the time, but the more I thought about it, I couldn't really take credit in good faith. Jeb could have been a tough kid, but he's not. My next kid could be a really tough kid. Hopefully I'll be able to create the same environment and boundaries to instill the same values I'm trying to instill in Jeb, if that's the case.

My mother in law constantly want to assign Jeb's traits to one of his ancestors. He loves cucumbers! His great grandmother loves cucumbers! That's where he gets it from!! So, if the neighbor kid loves cucumbers is he surely a distant relative? I don't really play that game; it kind of annoys me.

Being a birthmom, I sometimes think about what Jeb would be like if he had been parented by other people. It's not a weird thought since my reality is that other people sometimes raise my kid. You know what? He'd be basically the same kid. Any other woman who raised him in a loving home would marvel at his mild temperament, and his love of snuggling. And I'm sure someone in that family would like cucumbers.

It's a comforting thought, to me. My job is to guide, love, and support. I can do that.


(In the unlikely even that my MIL reads this: that wasn't a dig :))

The Best Rainy Day in History

We had a rainy day today. It was the first in months, literally. The weather this summer has been ah-may-zing, but I'll admit I kind of missed the occasional rainy day! (I feel like such an ingrate even uttering those words, haha!)

First of all, we slept until 830 because the sun wasn't out to wake the toddler up. We are usually up at 645, so you can all understand how glorious this felt!

Every Monday morning, we go to Story Time at our town library. (Our library is the BOMB.) Story Time entails: a story read aloud by Miss S, an art project, a snack, and independant reading/playing/puzzle time. It's awesome. Today was especially awesome because Bennett was able to come with us since rainy days are slow days in the landscape biz-- score! Jeb was so proud to show his daddy around the library :).

After story time, we came home and played a little, did some chores, and ate lunch together at the kitchen table. We'd gotten into the habit of having lunch at the coffee table while playing/watching cartoons, but a couple weeks ago I started making a more formal lunch for the 2 of us and eating at the table. I LOVE our new routine. We talk about our morning, laugh, and joke. Jeb is HUGE into "jokes" these days, where he'll say something like the cow says oink oink! and burst into hysterics. He'll even alert me and say "mama, I'm making a funny joke!" Or he'll point to something that is blue and tell me it's red, while giggleing his head off; it's so freaking fun.

After our lunch of talking and laughing, we went up to my bed to read books and take a nap. We read 6 books, I rubbed his back, and we listened to the rain and wind while cuddling under the covers and both fell asleep. Heaven. Pure heaven.

We woke up, had a snack and went to Target, with the sole purpose of having fun and killing time. Jeb loves to hang out in the toy aisles, the sports aisles, and the book aisles, so we did just that for >1 hour. (I love hanging out in Target for any reason, and haven't stepped foot in one for months, so I was loving every minute as well!) I spied the back-to-school supplies and bought our afternoon activity: 2 pair safety scissors, 2 glue sticks, 1 pack construction paper, 4 tubes of glitter, water color paints, and some extra brushes FOR 12 DOLLARS. :) :)

So, obviously, we came home and had Art Time for over an hour. We painted/cut/glued/and glittered pictures of umbrellas and rain (to keep with the theme of the day!), fire works, flags, random shapes/letters/numbers, and my fav? Jackie Paper and Puff. All while listening to kids music, and occasionally singing along. Does it get any better?

There was a pretty big meltdown when it was time to put our art supplies away, but we ended up having a nice dinner when daddy was done with work. We then read all of our new library books about 5 times each, had the requisite jumping-around-playing-ball/wrestling-get-out-the-rest-of-your-energy-time and watched some Jungle Book before bed time.

I wish I could say bedtime was smooth, but it never is. I'm choosing to focus on the awesome, and roll with the difficult.

Oh and? Jeb is a superstar with the potty. It's like he's been potty trained his whole life. I didn't even have to ask him today, he lets me know when he has to go and that's that. Crazy.

I wish I'd taken pictures, esp of our Art Time, but it really never occurs to me to get the camera. Tomorrow is supposed to be rainy again, so I'll try to remember :)

What a day. This is what being a Mama is all about. :)

Too Tired to be Coherent.

I am so, so tired. I am working way too much last week and this week. I was awake for >24 hours 2 different days this week. Jeb STILL DOES NOT SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT. I have been tired since 2007. *yawn*

Starting a week from Tuesday, I have a week off. I am so looking forward to that, I get a little choked up thinking about it.

What a hodgepodge. I can't even think straight I am so tired.

Being a working mama is hard. It's a labor of love, but tonight I'm feeling pretty burnt.

Can't wait to go to sleep in 8 more hours..........

Another instance where I'm not sure what I'm doing.

(I started this post days ago. Ever think time is passing slowly? Start a blog. You won't believe how fast time flies between posts ;))

We had a perfectly lovely day. Until 630pm. Before that, I ran a 5k here in town, in the most perfect weather. After my race, we had my mom, my sister, my niece and nephew, and my mother-in-law over for a terrific cook out, also in perfect weather. The macaroni salad was just right, the burgers were perfect, and the sangria was wonderful.

And then everyone left, and Jeb had the meltdown of his life. He raged until he was hoarse. It was agony for all of us.

He's been going through something in the last few weeks. When he was 8 months old, I rhetorically asked a friend "what happened to my delightful 7 month old?" She said -- "it's a developmental bitch fest". I thought it was the most brilliant phrase I'd ever heard. Sometimes these small children are growing/learning/developing so freaking fast they can't even handle it. So, Jeb may be going through a developmental bitchfest right now, or it may be the (difficult for all of us) transition into daycare, or like many other times I may never know what it is and we'll just live through it.

In any case, this child is having MAJOR separation issues. He used to be okay with me going to work in the evenings, now he wails for an hour. He is glued to my side when I am home. He's always been a clingy kind of kid, but this is extreme.

I don't mind him needing me more at times, I just hate not knowing what is going on. Or what he needs specifically. Or where to draw the line between being sensitive to what he's processing, and coddling. Two days a week, I have to tell him sorry, baby, you have to go to daycare today even though you don't want to. It's hard. For everyone.

That cliche about kids needing to come with hand books? So. True. I feel like I am winging it most of the time, and then I worry that Jeb will pick up on the fact that I am winging it and that will make him feel insecure. Meta-anxiety. Awesome.

Rambling about Daycare at the end of a night shift. Clever title, eh?

Daycare is one of the most annoying parts of being a parent. And I don't mean annoying like when your kid says "mama!" for the 908734127846th time that day but then flashes the cutest effing smile you've ever seen, so it's cool. It's just annoying. There is not one cute or redeeming thing about having to have daycare in your life. Oh, except the part where it enables you to have a job.

What's weird is that I really really REALLY look forward to Jeb's school years. Not as in I-can't-wait-for-him-to-be-out-of-the-house-for-6-hours-everyday; more like I can't wait to see what his future classrooms look like. And pick out his terrible painting amongst all the other terrible paintings hung in the hallway outside the classroom. And meet his teacher, who will want to talk to me about Jeb! My fav subject! And smell that distinct elementary school smell again, only love it even more. And give him milk money. And watch him walk down the hallway at school with a mostly empty, too big back pack on his back. Sometimes I imagine him with glasses and it gives me an extra squee!!! (I really wouldn't wish vision troubles on him at a young age, I just think they are damn cute.) ANYWAY. My point is that I know a lot of parents who refer to their toddler's child care provider as "school". I think it sounds weird to talk about sending my 2 year old to school. It sounds like I'm trying to put a better spin on it. Nope, my kid will go to Daycare, and I take ownership of the word. I am eternally less excited about Daycare than I am about Future School, even though the place is fraught with cute, terrible paintings. Why does a small blue chair at Future School sound totally awesomely adorable, but that same chair at Daycare is not exciting to me at all?

It's not even that I am philosophically opposed to daycare. Many people assume I should be opposed to it; my mother -- who is a nanny -- is one of them, which I find slightly ironic. One of my co-workers is apparently another one. She asked me last week, when I was talking about having to scramble to find a day care, but don't you have any *family*? Why yes, thank you, but weirdly they have to work for a living as well. Thanks for the brilliant tip that I would never had thought of. Oh right! My totally awesome, energetic, kid loving, puppy owning, game playing, zoo visiting, swing set owning relative who doesn't have to work will be perfect! Silly Patti didn't think of her ;)

Back to my original point -- Daycare is very annoying in several ways.

There is the scrambling factor: I'm not unusual in that my need for new Daycare is the result of abruptly losing old child care. So, fitting sifting/interviewing/researching new possibilities into my schedule RIGHT NOW is challenging. I'm not incredibly picky, I'm looking for the basics, you know, safety/fun/learning. But it's a scramble, and I am also processing the fact that this will still be a big change, and dammit! Why can't everything just stay the same for ever and ever and ever?!

There is the scheduling factor: Is it a 2 day program? 3 days? Do the days have to be the same every week? Can they fluctuate? What if they are not at max capacity? Can we have more flexibility in that case? What are the ratios, and how do they affect our scheduling? Will my boss work with me on changing my work schedule around?

There is the weird-policy factor: At Jeb's new home away from home, he cannot wear clothes with a drawstring. Does that include hooded sweatshirts? He has some pants that are elastic waist, but with a mock tied drawstring, are they OK? Are they worried Jeb's peer will rip of that 2 inches of fake drawstring and injure himself? Also, I have to provide 2 full spare outfits to be left there. Cool, no problem, Jeb frequently goes through a couple of shirts per day. But they want 2 pair of shoes as well. Honestly? Jeb has never gone through 3 pair of shoes in a day. Which means the spare shoes are really just going to sit in a cute cubby and go, for the most part, unworn. The really annoying part? Like most toddlers, Jeb grows out of shoes at a pretty good clip. So, that's lots of pairs of unworn shoes that I am going to be buying. Annoying.

There is the logistics/paperwork factor: Some piece of paper is going to have to be signed by a Pediatrician saying Jeb doesn't have the plague. Annoying part? I just switched Peds. Will new Ped sign the paper given we haven't had an appt with him ever? Will old Ped sign the paper given Jeb is no longer her patient? We have not fully vaccinated (cue scary music), this might be a giant effing road block.

The least annoying part? Is really the money. I've mentioned how I don't actually have any, so it's going to be tough, but not annoying. The Daycare we've chosen (and will hopefully accept us) seems to be full of fantastic, educated people who are nuts about kids. I think Jeb is really going to love it. So, handing over a bunch of money knowing Jeb is being well cared for? Not annoying in the slightest.

I would really love to stay home, I really would. But Jeb enjoys, you know, eating. That selfish bastard. I just hope he's ready to live drawstring-free. We all have to make sacrifices, right?

The Flip Side

The experience of parenting is an exercise in living in the "extremes". It is extremely awesome, difficult, exhausting, rewarding, joyous, confusing, younameit.

This week was a perfect example. It was a h a r d week. But it was also a terrific week.

The weather broke, need I say more?

We took family walks, at Jeb-Speed, which is to say we picked up rocks and sticks and pointed out every hydrant/basketball hoop/flag/bird/plane. They were the exact walks that you fantasize about before you have kids.

We had spontaneous baking sessions. We also had spontaneous cookie-eating sessions.

Jeb and I took naps together in mama's bed with the windows open. The breeze was just cool enough that a sheet and some cuddling felt divine.

My friend came over for a play date with her 1 year old and 3 year old. There was a virtual hurricane in my house for 4 straight hours. The kids belly laughed and played and jumped and tumbled. The mamas sipped coffee and enjoyed broken conversation --- pausing often to holler "stop that!" or kiss a boo boo or offer a snack or pick up most of said snack off the floor.

Bennett, Jeb and I had a dance party in the kitchen listening to Johnny Cash. (I know dance parties and Johnny Cash don't often go together, but hey, that's us.)

There are so many other moments that were just regular, but fabulously so.

Life is good.

Weaning. (this got long)

Well, the time is upon us. We are almost done nursing. I think our last session will be sometime in the next week (or two). After 27 months, it is time. It's starting to feel kind of skeevey to me, my supply is pretty much zip, and I really want a break before we TTC in the fall. If it were up to my boy, we'd have many many more months to go, I am sure!

It is a hard transition to make.

It is hard physically, to manage tapering without getting engorged. I'd say I started mindfully decreasing our nursing about 4 months ago.

It is hard mentally, to say 'no' or redirect when I know nursing will produce immediate sleep/peace/quiet/calm. Sometimes the fight just wasn't in me at 4am when all I wanted to do was sleep, and nursing was the surest fire way to make that happen. Or at 4pm when a quiet nursing session on the couch (sipping a coffee) sounded like the perfect way to s l o w everything down after a long day with the toddler.

It is oh so hard emotionally, to deny my precious boy when he looks at me with those big brown eyes and begs nurse? peas? and I tell him 'no' because any more time with toddler teeth on my nipples might send me over the edge.

It's hard because he doesn't understand it. No part of him ever thought there would come a time that we would not be doing this totally awesome thing. It's been a part of him since moment #1. It was how he transitioned to life on the outside. Before he knew he had hands, before he could see more than 12 inches in front of him, before he smiled, before he laughed, before he crawled or walked or talked or hugged or kissed ---- he nursed. It's been his comfort, his food, his home.

It's hard because he is my baby, who is not so much a baby anymore.

I never set out to nurse for 27 months. It just kind of happened. I threw myself into it in the beginning. I protected my supply fiercely. I dragged that God-forsaken Machine Baby (pump) to work for 13 months. I monitored my water intake, cut out dairy for 5 months, delayed solids until 6 months, did EVERY SINGLE NIGHT FEEDING, EVER. Jeb didn't sleep for more than 2 consecutive hours for 6 months. It was murder, but it was Our Thing.

Last week I let him have a spontaneous afternoon session just before I took a shower. He asked, and beamed when I said 'yes'. It was only a few moments, but I made sure to soak it in. I knew it would be one of our lasts, and I wanted a memory other than being annoyed in the wee hours of the morning. I ran my fingers through his hair, stroked his cheek, looked at his long legs that used to curl up and fit in my lap easily, told him how much I loved him, and then sent him running down the hallway to play in his room. I teared up knowing what he didn't: it was one of our lasts.

Now, I let him nurse for a few minutes when he comes to my bed in the morning. When he asks during the day, I tell him 'no, buddy, we can't nurse now, but we can hug and cuddle!'. Like always, he's adapted faster than I anticipated. (I am constantly underestimating this kid.) He still asks to nurse a bunch of times during the day, but he also asks a bunch of times for hug, mama? while extending his little arms. Sometimes he asks during a very inconvenient time, like when I'm on the toilet, or up to my eyeballs in cooking dinner, but I never say 'no' to the hugs. I don't want him to feel we are less connected; I want him to shift how we express our connectedness, but never the fact itself.

Oh, my sweet boy, we are so connected, don't you worry.

I am thrilled to be thisclose to being DONE, but my heart is breaking letting it go. This Mothering Gig sure is a roller coaster.

Whirlwind

I feel like the weeks are whizzing by at the speed of light. I keep waiting for everything to slow down, just a little bit. I think after next week when X is over we can chill or once X month has passed things will slow down. IT NEVER SEEMS TO HAPPEN. As soon as we get past X month or X event, obviously another one pops up. Appointments, B travelling for work, birthdays, oil changes (I really need to get my oil changed!!), dinners with MIL because she doesn't get to see Jeb all that much, play dates squeezed in because I haven't seen my friends in months, etc. Oh, and working full time nights. And owning a small business. And being landlords. And keeping a household running (somewhat) smoothly. And the toddler that simultaneously makes life faster and more intense, and also throws a huge wrench into any sense of efficiency when it comes to taking care of anything else.

There are ~3 evenings a week that are strictly family time, and I guard that time fiercely. (The other evenings are: work-3 MIL-1) They are my favorite. I wish all day everyday were Family Time. Jeb loves Family Time. I can see it written all over his face that he just loves nothing more than when the 3 of us are together, just being together. I feel the same way.

It's hard to find the balance of enjoying the here and now, when here and now is such a whirlwind. My biggest fear is that I'll look back and think I didn't enjoy the craziness of a young family while it was happening. There are many days when I resist and resent the craziness. I want just a little more down time. A little more prep time. A little more room for spontaneity. More mornings in bed lounging with my husband while the nanny makes breakfast for Jeb and puts out fresh coffee and fruit for whenever we make our way downstairs........ Ok, that might be a little much.

So, things are not going to slow down. In fact they will probably continue to speed on full blast for some time. It might sound silly, but this is actually just kind of dawning on me. Life will continue to be fast, and intense, and full, and I have no choice but to keep up. And enjoy it.

a bad morning does not have to = a bad day.

This morning was bad. Jeb was up most of the night, which means so were Bennett and I. Who knows why. Maybe it was because that's just how he rolls some nights. Maybe it was his 2 year molars that have been giving us trouble for 2 months. Maybe his tummy was feeling bloated and gassy like mine was after dinner but couldn't tell me as that is a conversation his verbal skills can't quite support. Maybe it was because it was Monday and he knew daddy had a long day at work ahead of him. Who knows. In fact, I'll probably never know since I've stopped trying to figure these things out. Children are a mystery.

Anyway, it was a bad morning. Jeb and I were both tired and cranky. I ate a plate of Chinese food for breakfast, sabotaging my weight loss efforts. I felt guilty with every bite, but too tired to put it down. We couldn't get into our rhythm. We watched some Elmo, but laying on the couch not being able to slip into a deep sleep only made me feel more exhausted and pissed. I lost my temper with him once, and hated myself for it. By late morning I put our shoes on, got in the car, and just went for a drive. We both needed to get out of the living room, away from the tantrums, and given the chance to just zone the eff out. The sunshine helped, too.

It worked like a charm. 20 minutes later he was asleep, and I was calm as I pulled back into the driveway. I put him down for his nap, and I laid down too. As I drifted off, I decided that the Bad Morning was over, and it did not have to make for a Bad Day.

We woke at 2pm. I fed Jeb a good lunch, and I had a bowl of Kashi GoLean and a banana. We played and cleaned up the downstairs. I vacuumed and did 2 loads of laundry. We danced and made the beds. (Why does a clean house ALWAYS help my mood?) I did a Jillian Micheals work out with my cans of black beans, and Jeb followed along with his cans of corn. I heard from Bennett that we have a dinner date with a business associate, and MIL is available to baby sit on short notice. I showered and even blow dried my hair.

Whew. It's been a busy, but awesome afternoon. This morning I was all "I'm not doing anything today. Hmmph." I took that attitude almost out of spite. Like I was giving the universe the finger, and being miserable and unproductive was going to get back at it! I'm glad I know myself enough to know kicking it into gear is the best remedy for the crankies, and being lazy only feeds the beast.

So, my cute pants are in the dryer, I smell good and feel good after my lean lunch and workout and shower (I'm going to stop beating myself up about the Chinese food any minute. I swear.) Jeb is going to have an awesome date with Grandma. The house is clean. My afternoon coffee is divine.

All is good.

Good Enough

Recently, a friend told me about the philosophy of the "Good Enough Mother". Apparently some psychologist ~100 years ago came up with the theory that children don't need a Perfect Mother, they need a Good Enough Mother.

This came up in conversation because I was doing one of my anxiety ridden rants about whether or not Jeb is getting what he needs. I shared with her that I lay in bed at night wondering: did he laugh enough today? did he run enough today? was I patient enough with him today? was his diet appropriately balanced today? did I put enough A&D ointment on his bum? his bum looked a little red, didn't it? do I change his bed sheets often enough? Bah. It's exhausting, and I'm sure it's not warranted. I know Jeb is well cared for; it's my anxiety torturing me.

So, the theory goes like this: Children don't need perfection in their parents, they need parents who are doing a good enough job. In fact, perfection is detrimental (as well as unattainable) because children would then miss out on some opportunities to develop important coping mechanisms.

My knee jerk reaction was Well, I hope I am better that just Good Enough! But that wasn't/ isn't the point. The point isn't to lower my standards, or change my parenting and take less-good care of Jeb on any given day so as to be "just good enough", or "just this side of neglectful".

It's to reset the questions I ask myself as I fall asleep at night.

I now try to ask myself: was I a good enough mother today? were his needs met in general? I can honestly answer YES! every singe day. And then I focus on the bajillion times I hugged and kissed him, and I visualize his contented and happy face.

When I shift the perspective just a bit, I drift off to sleep knowing that I am absolutely a Good Enough Mother. What a relief.

This whole second-guessing part of motherhood has been my biggest surprise... probably a good future post.

My house may be dusty, but we are having a blast.

The cleaning and scrubbing

will wait till tomorrow,
for Children grow up,
as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep......

I first heard this poem when I was pregnant with Jeb, and it of course made me choke up (still does), and I imagined rocking my newborn in the nursery, understanding the message to my core. I believe I did have moments in his infancy where I actively chose to share moments with him, and put down the busy-ness of life. Life with an infant is intense, though, and you mostly don't have any choice but to hold, rock, snuggle, nurse, ect. At least my infant didn't give me much choice ;) With a new baby, I got into the mode where if he was happy while not being held for a minute, I immediately attacked my to do list, whether I had 5 minutes or 30. Cleaning, laundry, bills, grocery lists, dusting, a quick toilet scrub, grab a bite to eat, pull something out of the freezer for dinner, grab that cup of coffee out of the microwave that I heated up 2 hours ago...

Life with a toddler is so much easier in many ways. He plays trains while I shower, instead of crying in the bouncy seat while I sing the 4 thousandth verse of Wheels on the Bus as I wash my hair. He sits in his seat at the table and eats lunch independently, instead of nursing round the clock. He can follow me with his own rag to "help" me with the dusting, instead of needing to be carried everywhere. He "fixes" the rocking chair with his tools as I enjoy my piping-hot coffee and check my email, or chat with a friend on the phone. He'll watch some Elmo while I put the groceries away, instead of whimpering because that is one chore that is really impossible to do 1 handed. In short, he's much more independent. As I was playing catch with him this afternoon, I was thinking about how maybe he could read a book while I got XY or Z done, but then I remembered this poem. I thought to myself, "really, what better or more important thing do I have to do right now than play with my boy, watch him laugh, help him feel loved?" It was a no brainer. Obviously I can't spend ALL of my time on the floor with him, but I've had several of these moments lately, where I remember my priorities and ignore my less-than-shiny kitchen floor.

It feels really good, to both of us.