I love and am in love

With my boys. The toddler is in his brand new jammies that actually make him look his age, for once. Tonight, they have frog faces all over them and actually have the little footies. Tomorrow will be teddy bear heads. His big boy clothes (all in 3T despite his barely being 2 and a 1/4) make him look like he'll be pledging a frat house by the end of the week. I love that look but at night, when he's clean and in his jammies and climbing all over me for hugs and snuggles, I just love it. And I love how the baby still scooches his little legs up underneath himself and his little diapered tooshie sticks out just asking to be rhythmically tapped as I rock him.
I am that mom who always creeps in to check on them one last time before I turn in for the night. It's been suggested to me by a couple of friends who have the video monitors that I should get one, especially since the baby is a rather light sleeper. But really, I go in not just to make sure that they're still breathing (that's the primary reason) but to sneak in one last touch and one last kiss. Oh and these days to move the baby tornado out from under the bumpers.
When the rocking chair was still in the toddler's room, I used to sneak in and pick him up out of bed (once he's out, he's DEAD to the world---as in the fire alarm went off in our old apartment and he slept through the whole debacle of ringing and leaving the building) and sit with him in the rocking chair. Just because he's so peaceful when sleeping. He just instinctively wraps his arms and legs around me and hugs me with no fussing or wriggling. After the whirlwind days of emotional roller coasters, it's just so calming. Even now, when I'm scooping him up off the floor to put him back into bed, I get that one last hug. We've even had a couple naps in the past week where I laid next to him on his bed until he fell asleep, just stroking him hair. Usually, he trashes around too much for this but of late he's been exceptionally cuddly and so he was game to just rest his head on my shoulder. It was tempting to just stay and nap with him.
I love it when the baby falls asleep in the Snugli. I can gently rest my cheek on his head and wrap my arms around him. It's as close to the feeling I had when I would rest my arms around my belly while pregnant as I can get.
Obviously, I love my boys because they're mine. I fed the little parasites and then hatched them so I have that bond. But I'm in love with them because I truly like them. They may leave me exhausted, frazzled, frantic, frustrated, exasperated, overwhelmed....but that's just a facet of their ages. I truly like their personalities and so I've fallen completely in love with them.
They say that the sense of being in love fades over time as the novelty of a relationship fades. I foresee myself singing a different tune when they hit middle school (ugh what a heinous age, really, to my friends who electively teach/taught that age, God bless!). I might not be so in love then. But till then, I love and am in love with my little muchachitos.

Where God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window

The other day, as I was getting out of the shower, I thought about what I could be doing if I didn't have bambinos or if they were old enough for full day school.

Really the list wasn't too long:

1. I would row every morning

2. I would swim on a regular basis

3. I would do a triathlon (albeit a mini)

4. I would get mani/pedis

5. I would sleep in on weekends

6. I would go to the gym

7. I would go out dancing (maybe even take up ballroom)

See not so long...I couldn't even come up with three more to make an even ten. But the theme was (and no, not just working out) that I could do with some time to myself.

So since one door seems to have closed, a window has been opened.

I set a resolution to run a 5k a month and so far, I have done that for three months now. Today, I actually got to run it solo. Run being the operative word; I didn't have to stop to readjust any heads or toys or walk with a baby strapped to me. It was FABULOUS!!!

Darling hubby and his friend wrangled the boys while I got to run with my friend and her little girl (who was very still in her stroller).

I'm not sure what part I liked better: not having 50+lbs of kids in a stroller to push or seeing my boys watch me run a race. I may not get much time to myself (door slamming shut) but it was freeing to run the race without having to worry about anyone else's needs (window opening). I really want to set my boys up for a healthy lifestyle that includes participating in sports. And for the sake of their bone density, I would like them to be runners (engaging in high impact sports while growing up helps to increase bone density) so that they have a healthy athletic career in whichever sport(s) they want---ahem, say swimming and rowing. And more than anything, I want them to be proud of their mama.

And as someone who aspires to be a lifelong athlete, now that I'm not rowing anymore, I need to actually engage in a sport to make this a bona fide claim. Non sequitur, there was a couple there today who had to have been well into their sixties and they were absolutely adorable. They were decked out in their San Diego Track Club garb--as in she was wearing the little silky running shorts and tank top and he had on his running shorts and shirt. You could tell they are totally hard core runners. It was wonderful to see them. That's what I would like for me and my dh in forty years (hell, that's what I would like for us now). That grandma is faster than I am now as a mommy (and probably faster that I was before I was a mommy). It gives me something to aspire to. It also makes me wonder how long she's been a runner. Has she always been a runner? I mean, when I think of senior citizens (particularly women), I wonder what sports they competed in when they were in school or even afterwards. Because really, the only woman runner I can think of from around that generation is Wilma Rudolph (you know, black lady who overcame Polio to win some clinkage at the Olympics in 1920 something or other). It makes me wonder what it was like back then. I certainly wonder what she wore if she was a runner back then b/c for some reason the long cheerleader skirts from Grease pop into my head and while I know she clearly didn't wear that, I wonder what was the appropriate equivalent for runners during those generations. I kind of remember Wilma Rudolph in a picture in shorts, but who knows.
Anyway, back on topic...

I never used to enjoy running, at all. I did it when I was training for other sports. I did it when chased on the playground. I did it b/c the Marine Corps thinks it's a great pastime.

It's taken about twenty years (b/c I was about seven the last time I enjoyed running a mile) but I've finally started to really enjoy running. Since I can't swim or row easily, since it means having to find childcare, this is something that I can do with them in tow. I really love the outlet for my competitive nature. And I get the satisfaction (even if I have the kids in the double) of doing something just for me.

Next month, I'm going to do another 5k; in November I'm going to do a 5k at the beginning of the month and then a 10k on Thanksgiving. Yeah me!

A 10k! Now that I've blogged it, I'm committed! So on Black Friday, ask me how it went!

I realized after today, when I sprinted through the finish and then stopped and wasn't even slightly winded (it was as though I'd just walked a block not 3.1 miles), if I can do a 5k that easily then I can do a 10k too. I'd had such a mental block against anything longer than 3 miles. Now I know I can do it! Yet again, a window opening.

Incidentally, hubby's friend brought over Knocked Up tonight. So it has taken me the better part of an hour to type this post. Ironic choice of movies while I type about opportunities that have changed.

While one door may have closed, it seems like plenty of windows have opened.

One of the greatest compliments in life

I've come to the conclusion that one of the greatest compliments in life is being trusted to watch someone else's child.
Choosing who you make responsible for your child's well being, be it for thirty minutes or days at a time, is an arduous mental activity. There is a lot of weighing and measuring of the options and humming and haaing over whether it's worth even leaving the little rugrats. So once you actually decide to relinquish sole proprietary control, it can be very daunting to figure out who you trust to watch your child.
I've had people, within minutes of meeting me, offer to watch my boys. Not a chance in hell! If I don't know you from Adam (or more likely Eve), you're not watching my kids. The offer may be appreciated as a kindness received, but that doesn't mean I'm taking you up on it. Give me a chance to get to know you, then I'll reassess. Who knows, you might make the cut after all.
Now that I've been a mommy for a couple of years, I'm a little bit more relaxed in acknowledging that there are times that I just can't take my kids with me (or more relaxed in admitting there are times I just don't want to take them with me). This means that someone is going to have to watch them. My list is pretty short. And anyone new who is added is added with some trepidation. Not because they won't do a good job, but simply because it's not ME. I may not do the best job, but they're my little munchkins to screw up not anyone else's (well, okay other than dear hubby).
In return, I think it is a tremendous compliment when others bestow their trust in me to watch their child. I think it is one of the greatest testimonies to my character that someone thinks I am capable enough to guard their most precious and dear accoutrement.
One of my friends a while back was having a bit of a rough day and wasn't feeling very loved by the world. I reminded her that if she were truly such a bad person, she would not resemble Old Mother Hubbard (not the part about the bare cupboards but the part with all the kids). My friend often has a house full of kiddies because just about everyone else I know who has kids picks her as their first choice in babysitter.
Compliments that plump your vanity are fleeting, but compliments about who you are at the depths of your character are far more lasting, thus far more valuable.

Amendment

Okay, so maybe I was a little overzealous in my diatribe on the clothing industry yesterday.
Plus sizes begin at size 14 not size 10. But regardless, if that is the average size of an American woman it does one of two (well probably both actually) things: a) confim that we are a FAT culture or b) make the average woman feel fat.

Answer me this...

If the average American woman is 5'4", somewhere between 145-163 lbs, and wears a size 14, why is that once you hit double digit clothing sizes, you are technically "plus" sized?
For all you skinny minis out there, who have never seen double digits on a clothing tag other than the cost, perhaps we should call you minus sized and the rest of us can just be regular.

Growing up, I always ranged between 8-14 depending on the garment. In later years, I've gone up to a 16 (and this last pregnancy does not count b/c I'm still not sure what type of clothes I was in at the end--basically a muumuu). It wasn't until just recently, as I've moved out of 16s and into a loose 14, that I realized that even in my "skinny" days of being a teen or in my early twenties (when I did look GOOD), I was still plus sized. Granted, I did think (and still do) that a 16 is big. Actually, I take that back. I think I thought that any size you could buy off the rack in the mainstream section of a store was average. But that's around where I thought plus sizes started. Not at a 10. Isn't a 10 supposed to be perfect?!

So WTF? Why even bother losing the weight? It seems like I'm fight a losing battle. If, after it's all said and done, and I get back to my premarital weight, I will have lost 100lbs from the day I delivered the baby to that goal weight. And I'll still be plus sized!
But I'll tell you why I'm doing it. Because I just can't stand feeling like I look fat. (Oh yeah and all that healthier way of life crap.) I want to get back to what I see in my head. The way I used to look is what I think of when I think of myself. And it comes as a bitter kick up the backside when I realize that what I look like to myself is not what everyone else sees now. What's worse is that all the people I've met since being married only know me stout. There are less and less people in my daily life who knew me back when.

But going back to my rant on clothing. If stores are now using vanity sizing, where they cut clothes bigger but put a smaller number on the tag, what the dickens is a size 16 really? I mean am I sharing a habitat with Shamu? Should I just put a potato sack on and call it quits?
If I do get back (well really, when I get back) down to a 10, I'll still technically be plus sized. And that 10 is probably what was a 14 ten years ago. So where do I stand? Preferably not too close to a full size mirror, that's where!

Well the writing was on the wall. This little event has been a burr up my backside since it happened: when I was about 20, I went into a department store to buy a pair of brown leather knee high boots (back when they were an abosolute must have for college girls) and I remember having to squeeze my calves into the pair I wanted. I never used to think I had fat legs (at least not from the knee down). I remember the sales woman telling me that buying boots is hard for women with plus sized calves! I remember looking at her and saying that I didn't know that's what you called the legs of a collegiate varsity athlete (never mind that I'd stopped competitively rowing the year before). When I went to pay for them (b/c after that I damn well made sure they fit), I told the cashier that no one had helped me...haha working on commission's a bitch.
Shoulda read the memo that day...I'm plus size. Mo'nique watch out, I am PHAT and lovin' it.

Sharing is Caring

Top 5 Signs My Toddler Understands the Concept of Sharing:
5. He empties out his toy basket and brings them all over to me, stacks them on and around me, thus creating his own live toy box.
4. He insists that I have a sip from his sippy. As in he shoves the spout into my mouth.
3. He takes off his fully saturated pull-up and gives it to me for disposal.
2. He offers the baby his paci, strokes/pats his head in the stroller or in their car seats, and "borrows" his rattles/toys.
And the number 1 example of sharing:
1. He takes a sip of water from his sippy, spits it into his play cup, and then pours it into my water glass.

This last demonstration occurred this morning. We went for a run and when we got home, I strapped the baby into his highchair for his routine smorgasbord of rice cereal. Before getting started, I poured myself a glass of water and placed it just out of reach of the baby (but clearly not out of reach of the toddler) on the highchair tray. Over walks the toddler. In a flash, I see him take a sip and then spit it in the cup. As I reprimand him for spitting anything other than his toothpaste, he pours it into my glass. Now I know I've been a mom a long time because I actually contimplated drinking the water anyway. I figured it wasn't in his mouth that long. But even I couldn't stomach the idea. So after the baby chowed down on his man sized portion of Gerber goodiness, I got some fresh water---in the same glass.

And I thought just days ago that my children were selfish...

Only in America...

...Or better yet, only on a highway in California.
Today, on the way home from church, I noticed that the highway was just stopped. So I was going to take the coastal road but after I took the wrong detour (b/c I was somewhere in lala land) I ended up just taking the highway after all.
Wondering why the highway was so congested at 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon? Well, let me tell you. It was a five car accident. Nothing serious, just some dented fenders. Actually, it was so not serious that the folks involved were standing on the shoulder taking pictures.
Not so odd; an accident happens so you take some pictures for the insurance. Haha, not exactly. Here's the kicker: They weren't taking pictures of the cars. No, instead, there was a man and woman in FULL German costume taking pictures with a couple other people. Obviously, they must have been going to or coming from an Oktoberfest. But really, could they have not done it so obviously in view of the gajillion cars driving by. Because what does everyone do? Rubberneck! Really, folks. COME ON!
So that was my oddity of the day--a German couple on the side of the road taking pictures after being involved in a five car pileup. Only in America and only on a California freeway!
If only I'd had a camera handy. Now that would have been ironic!

Children are SO selfish

Comedienne Kathy Griffith (notice, folks, the proper use of a feminine noun--androgyny went out with Ziggy Stardust, it's actress, waitress, even aurthoress- like adverbs, learn 'em, love 'em, use 'em) says this about the reason why she doesn't like children, "what six month old do you know asks you about your day. They're so selfish."
Well ain't that the truth!
Yesterday was my birthday and the baby decided that 3:30 am would be a great time to serenade me with his version of happy birthday---for the better part of an hour. The second rendition came at 5:30am. I prefer my well wishes to not come in at o dark hundred! Darn selfish kids!
I thought this might be an ominous sign of the day to come but it turned out to be one of the best birthdays I've had in a while. The last few years have been blighted by national catastrophe, work, and bickering with a certain dh who will remain nameless ;-D
With the exception of my 22nd birthday, which was spent with now hubby in Hawaii, the last seven to ten or so could have just been slept through.
I spent the morning with some mommy friends who helped me celebrate with cake, that had the rockingest--yes, I made up that word; my blog, my rules of grammar!-icing--green and purple and wearing my son out with four little girl playmates.
Hubby got off work early, coming home with a half dozen long stem red roses, and I didn't feel pressured to do any homework or housework during nap time. He and I even got to go out to dinner---just the two of us! I ate like I'd been starved for days. We had great Japanese. No hibachi, but terrific sushi and I polished off an Bento box by myself--teriyaki chicken, rice, salad, veggie tempura, pork dumplings and some Sake.
Essentially, all the progress I made the first week of this month in my weight loss has stagnated thanks to my eating binge of the last two weeks. But it does taste so good. As my granny always says, "some people eat to live, the rest of us live to eat!"
All in all it was a great day with plenty of well wishes and no fighting--with a two year old or a twenty six year old (for three days each year I'm robbing the cradle).
My children even decided to cooperate and while they each fussed a bit after being put in bed, neither caused significant enough issues to worry about. So maybe they're not so selfish after all...
Actually, quite the opposite. Tonight proved that I have two exceptionally loving boys. The toddler and I read a Beatrix Potter book and then laid together on his bed to sing some nursery rhymes. As usual, just before leaving, I put my head on his chest to receive my special death grip hug. As I lay there, he stroked (sometimes tugged) my hair. It was quite the role reversal since I usually do that to him. It was so nice and soothing. I just lay there giving him little kisses on his cheek as he stroked my hair and then patted my head. It just made my heart feel so big. It was a glimpse into what it will be like once he's bigger than me. It was a glimpse into when he'll be able to protect me, even though I'll always protect him. It was a glimpse into what it will be like to be old and have my children look after me. I wish that moment could have lasted forever.
Maybe one day, if Kathy Griffith has kids, she'll realize they may be the neediest creatures alive but they are the most appreciate as well.

On a side note, as I've always said: raising kids is like raising dogs. The toddler walked around in circles today and then hid on the stairs for a few minutes. Then he ran into the kitchen. When he came out, his head was down and he pointed babbling back at the kitchen. He'd taken the biggest POOP on my floor. The joys of house breaking---I mean potty training.
It's like when you take the puppy out for a long walk and then as soon as you get home, they have an accident. My son sat on his potty, acted like he was going to do the right thing, and then has an accident.
Walking in circles and then the guilty head hang--could be a dog, but instead it's a two year old.
Thank heavens for my new Hoover Floormate (a la my parents!), it took care of the issue. But really, who does that?!

They should get together for a little coffee tawk

I haven't posted in a day or so and it's given me a chance to reflect. I didn't intend this blog to just be a recantation of the day's events but rather how my daily activities influence my intellectual wanderings. Since I didn't have anything deep to offer, I took a day off. Now I'm back and swinging...
What are we coming to? Tonight, while on the elliptical, I watched the Jon Stewart Show and the Colbert Report. This is how I get my current events. The regular nightly news is just too dull in comparison. And the Today show is on until the kids get up.
The Chancellor of New York Public Schools was on the CR episode aired tonight (it was a repeat from Sept. 12). He discussed paying students to do well in school.
This gets a resounding WTF from me. Last I checked, that's the point of school---go, learn, and thus do well.
I get that not every child will do well in school (thanks Darwin, we're not all special) but why should students get a monetary reward/incentive to do what they're supposed to? What does this teach students? How is it in any way appropriate to pay a 7th grader $500 to pay attention and apply themselves? This assumes that a 7th grader has the maturity to handle being given such a large amount of money. Or that parents, who send their students to public school more than likely because they can't send them elsewhere or even choose not to, are going to support this.
Again, intellectually I understand the concept behind this program. The Chancellor was arguing that we need to use ingenuity to get the attention of kids these days. But as a pragmatist, I just have to say-UH NO.
When I was a child, I remember that my parents periodically gave me an allowance. It wasn't a routine occurrence b/c my parents (smartly) wanted to know what I was buying and what I had rather than send me off blindly to do what I wanted with money. I remember once asking my mom why I couldn't earn extra money for doing my chores since that's how most of my friends earned their allowance. She explained to me that my chores are just things that have to be done. That you don't get rewards for doing things you're supposed to. You get them for doing something special. It made sense then and it makes sense now.
Here is the video from the show:




What do you think?

In comparison, last week author/commentator Laura Ingraham was interviewed on the Today Show. She's written a book about the decline in American society. She deems it the pornification of America. She argued that the behavior of most celebrities should not be deemed news worthy, that ads campaigns such as Abercrombie & Fitch are indecent (which they are, but I still like looking at the bags--even at almost 27!) and that we as a society should take a stance against this trend. She spent a little too much time knocking the Today Show in her attempt to get her message across, but if you can get past that, she makes some interesting points.
I couldn't imbed the code (as it wasn't offered) but here is the link:

http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=6657b6e2-2df6-42b7-964a-cacc1af62c5b

So after watching this evening's Colbert Report, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if these two (Chancellor Joel Klein and Laura Ingraham) were to meet for some coffee tawk in NYC.
I know some of you reading this are either New Yorkers or teachers or both so is this just another crazy movement (paying kids) that will be gone in a New York minute? Can America retrieve its culture from the gutter? Who would come out on top if the two panelists were to have it out?
Ahh, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall with my locks, cream cheese, and a bagel.

Split screen brain or was it picture in picture

Last night, several mommies and I went out to celebrate some September birthdays. About an hour into the evening, I get a call on my cell ---HOME. Oh crud, what now? Which one is it?
I ducked out and answered it. In the background, just over the barely audible voice of my darling husband, I hear wailing! I know exactly exactly who it is.
Apparently, the baby had been crying incessantly for almost an hour. Off I scooted to the house.
MOMMY TO THE RESCUE! With the promise that I would be back at the bar as soon as possible.
So I zoom through Carlsbad and Oceanside, it was like a split screen in my head. Or was it really picture in picture? It was like something you would see on Court TV, half my brain was showing a picture of me needing to get home to my distressed baby and half of my brain was showing a picture of me needing to get home to my distressed baby so that I could hurry up and get back out to the bar.
I pulled up behind the garage and slipped through the sliding glass door. As I walked up, at first I didn't hear anything. Then I was greeted by the screaming of a seriously angry baby. But what happens when I walk in? He spots me and starts laughing!
Hubby'd brought him downstairs and was sitting on a blanket with him on the floor watching Comedy Central or something, looking VERY tired. Funny, one hour of screaming has him DONE and a whole day leaves me running a sub 28 min 3 miles. What am I running from? Simple! My kids! Even if I have them in the stroller in front of me. Figure out what that means!
So anyway, I digress. Upstairs we go. In the bathroom and into the medicine cabinet. Ahh the best bottle of purple goo---a little baby Tylonol. Because of course, it has to be teeth! When all other explanation fails with babies, it must be teeth. Or if they're really little, colic.
A little dropper of med and into the rocking chair for a little cuddle nursing. And all the while, I'm thinking, "it's nice to know that I can fix anything for my kids but really, how long is this going to take. I want to get back to the bar. And I wonder if the ladies will still be at the same place. And will anyone hear/feel their phone ringing? How am I going to find them if they've moved on?"
Back into the crib he goes and back into the car I go. But before I head out, I turned up the monitor really loudly hoping that if hubby fell asleep, he'd be woken by a crying baby (b/c he sleeps like the dead). And for the rest of the night I wondered if hubby was awake and all was calm or if hubby was asleep and baby was really having a fit.
I zoom back to the bar. It seemed like a super quick 45 mins to me. But that was b/c I'd driven home, dealt with the baby, and then had to drive back. I wondered if it had gone that quickly for the ladies and so they'd still be at the same bar. I found them and they were surprised that I did actually come back. Obviously they don't know me that well! Was there really any doubt that I wouldn't come back--if the baby was okay? A night out! A real night out, as in somewhere that my children positively, absolutely cannot come. Hell yeah, I'm making an effort to go out. I love my children more than life, and that's never in question, but sometimes it's just nice to get dressed up and not look like someone's mommy. It's nice to have a drink that I can't, won't, or don't have to share. To have a drink in an open top glass and not have to worry about whether it's going to get spilt by a two year old. Or to wear something that I don't have to worry about the ease in which I can nurse.
I won't recap the rest of the evening b/c it went well and with it all said and done, it was nice to be out. I had a blast. But as always, it was even nicer to be home again for the night.
There's a show with what's her face, Elaine from Seinfeld called Old Christine (or something like that) and she's the ex wife and her ex husband has New Christine, the girlfriend. Well I'm no one's ex wife but I do sometimes feel like Old Maria needs to come out and play.
Old Maria for a moment, New Mommy for a lifetime.

It's not easy being two!

We had a bit of a rough morning today. Poor little guy was truly upset about a few things today at the mommy workout.
1: He was very upset that he couldn't shoot the ball into the big babbit (basket). We were in a real gymnasium and it was just too high for him.
2: He was very upset that other people might want the same ball he did (even though it wasn't his to begin with).
3. He was very upset that Mommy just wasn't able to solve the above problems.

I could elaborate on how frustrating this was for me since I just wanted to work out. Or how other people were giving me dirty looks because I let him cry while I tried to workout and deal with the baby.
But instead, I've decided to go the other way. I feel that I spend more than ample time articulating all my struggles with the boys. I'd rather just mention all the things I love about them.

I love that the baby now scootches and rolls all around the living room.
I love that the baby gets so excited about his rice cereal that he blows raspberries that get the cereal everywhere.
I love that the baby gives me a look of disdain as I make a monkey of myself trying to sign to him.
I love that even when the baby's totally melting down, the site of me can calm him down. Just because me being me is enough.
I love that he has a tremendous wet gummy smile and hence his nickname Gummy Bear.
I love that the toddler has the cheekiest smile.
I love that the toddler finds fun in everything, whether it's sitting in his drawer (with or without pull-ups )or kicking the back of my seat.
I love that the toddler still lets me rock him to sleep sometimes.
I love that the toddler holds my hand when we watch TV.
I love that the toddler comes and strokes my head or arm or leg when I'm lying on the couch.
I love that the toddler, at the end of the day after I'm yelled at him about twenty times and made him cry about thirty times, still gives me the tightest arm-around-the-neck hug at bedtime and just wants to snuggle for just one more minute.
I love that my children love me because I'm the mommy, not matter what mistakes I'm making.
I love that I'm the Mama Bear and they're my Bear Cubs.

It's not easy being two.
It's not easy not being able to talk.
It's not easy being tired all the time because they make you walk.
It's not easy not getting what you want when you're two.
But I still love you!
This was the little ditty I sang to him as I took him upstairs for his nap this afternoon.

On the upside

My head is still attached to my shoulders, though for parts of the day it did feel like it was floating somewhere in the stratosphere.
Things seems to be on the way to resolution with the bank. Now it's just a waiting game. Amazing how quickly they can deduct money out of your account but they take their sweet ass time to put it back in. I know how the banking system works, they make money off of your money. But it's MINE! Sorry, that's the only child coming out in me.
Belle does seem to be doing better now that she is getting to go out with her adoptive mom more. She's my little girl, she can pull through anything. Sending good vibes and love all the time to her.
But on the upper upside, I have knocked out a few homework assignments tonight. Hopefully, they won't need any revisions.
Explain to me this, though: if I'm in a performance mastery program (I don't progress in my program until I am able to demonstrate mastery or competency of certain criteria), isn't it somewhat ironic that some of my tasks ask me to perform tasks that would never actually be done in the classroom? What does this prove that I can master?
For example, I had to create a unit with two lesson plans. Each of these lesson plans had to have two goals. Each goal had to have three objectives. Okay, I may not yet be a full time teacher, but I have spent enough time in the classroom to know that this is totally unrealistic. This unit would take over a month to implement. The kids would be overwhelmed with information and I would feel pressed for time to get it all in.
So why set up novice teachers to think that this is how it's done? I get the point--make sure we know how to write goals and objectives in a lesson plan. But a competent teacher would not do this! So no competency or mastery truly demonstrated.
This assignment took me almost a week to do b/c along with the goals and objectives, I also had to create the activities for the lessons and give samples of desired work and list resources, yada yada.
In comparison, I just knocked out two assignments tonight. Each took about half an hour to do.
Ugh, instead of inundating me with one assignment and then making the others just busy work, consolidate and balance!
But I'm almost half way through this class! I need to go create a bulletin board now and take a picture of it to submit. Really, for high school?! Okay, whatever. Too bad I'm not in elementary ed (I'm doing secondary) b/c I just put together a kickass "bulletin board" for the toddler. It has a reusable calendar so that he can learn the days of the week, the months, and such ("calendar math"). I put Velcro tabs on the numbers and months so that he can learn to tack them up. And he now has a weather frog he can dress according to the weather. As well as complete the sentence "today's weather is..." with clouds, sun, snow, and their corresponding picture.
One downer--darling hubby pointed out that the weather frog was pointless b/c how many outfits would the frog really wear in SoCal. Whatev--we wear sweaters here with our flip-flops.

I think my head may explode!

So my morning started out with an email from the lady who has Belle (for those who didn't know, I gave up Belle to a lady who does Mastiff rescues b/c I felt I wasn't giving her the life that she deserved being kept inside all the time without much attention and since we'll be moving in a year, I don't know if we'll find a Mastiff friendly place). Apparently, Belle lost 35 lbs, had two bladder infections and two staff infections, was going to the bathroom inside constantly and chewing up everything. She was almost put down! She seems to be on the mend now that she is working as a therapy dog with the lady and has made a best friend with one of the other mastiffs. But it was touch and go.
TALK ABOUT REMORSE AND GUILT.
As though that didn't almost send me over the edge, I check my bank account. Wow, it's really low! Wow, there are charges I don't recognize!
I have spent the last two hours making calls, trying to get almost $200 back! Someone used my card number but not my name, zip code, or email to charge $35 to an adult video site. This same person charged $124.78 to a place that has a site that has a phone number that is trying to reroute me to a 10 15 15 number that charges $5 connection and comes up as a Nevada directory assistance call. This charge hasn't gone through but is still pending and may go through at any time. I also have two netflix charges that I thought weren't going to go through b/c this card was supposed to have been cancelled in May! I was under the impression that when my new card came the old one was cancelled. That was what was supposed to happen, but somehow it slid through the cracks! And I found out today that the old card has been active this whole time. Almost five months!
Now I'm not going to name names about the bank, b/c usually I have a wonderful experience w/ them. But I was told today that it may be 5-10 business days before I get a "provisional" refund. And it may take up to 3 months for a full investigation. And if at the end of the investigation, they decide these weren't fraudulent charges, they'll take all the money back!
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
And I tried to fill out their online fraud claim but I keep getting a system error; so now I have to pack up the two kids and go into the bank to fill out a claim!
UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
B/c I have so much time to do this and I know the kids are just going to love sitting in the stroller to do this!
Why me? Kharma is a bitch! I know this is a return on me not being patient enough with the toddler! Or maybe it's me not being patient enough with my darling husband! Or maybe it's me not being patient enough with other drivers! Oh goodness, if this is the case, I'm really in for it. Kharma's about to take a huge bite off my tukus!

Desperate Housewife

Have you ever had one of those days where you are just purely exhausted at the end of the day but as you reflect over the day, you really can't think of what you've done? That was me yesterday. That's why I'm posting this morning, I was just too tired to do it last night.
Nothing that exciting happened but I was knackered (English for bone tired) by 8pm.
We got up and got ready for the morning; I blogged a bit and got the kids fed. Then we headed to John's work to drop off the coffeemaker, then to Target, and finally over to LISTOS (a preschool learning center) in O'side. Came home for lunch and naps. While the kids slept, I laminated Andy's weather frog (something I got for his birthday and am just now getting around to putting together). I think this was the part that really wore me out. It's mentally tiring trying to line up the laminate sheets to the crazy shaped pieces and then cutting them out. And it was physically tiring sitting bent over to cut out all the pieces.
Andy got up and started his shrieking and newest behavioral demonstration--tossing toys. He ended up with some quiet time in his room. Next thing I knew it was dinner and bath and bedtime. The baby just didn't want to go to sleep and the toddler got bored playing by himself and started crying, which didn't help the baby go to sleep. I ended up just putting both in their respective beds and going downstairs. Thank heavens that actually worked for once b/c I was DONE. Too hot, too tired and too frazzled.
I did the dishes and swept. And basically dozed off on the couch at 8pm.
I pulled myself off the couch at 10, disturbed the baby when I checked to make sure he wasn't too cold, so I fed him. Then I was awakened at 12:30, 2:15, 4:25, and 6:05 for feedings!
I can't wait to start fruits and veggies in three weeks. I really do want to hold off until he's six months but it's getting rough!
Now that I reflect, I see that I had a fairly busy day. But no worse than usual. I suppose it's just the cumulative effects of the previous few days. I'm still yawning now.
Really, I don't feel like I did that much yesterday but I'm desperate for some more sleep (which is NEVER going to happen again---at least not for the next 18 years).
Ever have one of those days? Not sure what you did but sure that you're worn out!

What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy dog's tails

*I wanted to post this last night but blogger was down.*

Even wonder what a day is like with two little boys? Let me tell you! For some of you, this will sound all too familiar; for others, you'll think I'm nuts to electively spend every day all day with these little heathens!

Everything started out well yesterday, I was up, showered, and dressed before 8 am! No small feat!
We went down to the living room where the big boy ran around naked, as usual. He stopped short, dashed to his potty, and put a tiny sprinkle in. He brought me the bowl to show me so that we could dash to the big potty where he'd watch me rinse and pour out the contents into the big potty, which he would then get to flush. But I told him to put back the bowl and put some more wee-wee in the potty. Apparently, this did not fly with him b/c next thing I knew the pee-pee was flying. He tossed the bowl up in the air like he was tossing a salad. And the wee-wee came showering down onto my leg, the sofa, and the floor! All of this before 8:30 am!

We have another round of tears over Pooh and Friends! Ugh, I want the old line up back. I want Stein-Steins at 8am! And I hate having to wait till 9:30 for Manny. We're almost never home that late during the week!

Next, we had breakfast. The big one managed to spill half his Cheereo milk down the front of himself and the little one got so excited about his rice cereal that he blew a huge raspberry that resulted in a large chunk of rice cereal on my nose! Yuck! Second hand gunk!

We piled into the car and set off for the day. Just outside the main gate, the baby starts crying his death scream. I wonder what could be wrong. Oh yeah, he might have gotten some cereal but I totally forgot to nurse him! He's STARVING! So off the high way I pull, onto a quiet street I park. He was only partially interested in eating. Back into his seat he goes. SCREAM, SCREAM, SCREAM. Until we are five minutes from the park. He finally drifts off and then the big one is so excited when he realizes where we've arrived that he screams and now the baby is screaming again too.

We play, the baby stays awake despite being in the snugli facing me (which is normally a baby Micky Finn). We get back in the car. I feed the baby and the big one starts his grungry (hungry) chant. I toss some crackers at him and get going. Both spend the next twenty minutes screaming at me! I relent, into MckyD's we pull in for a cheeseburger and dollar fries. Both of which were steaming hot so the big one didn't get to eat them until we got home. So much for saving some time. I at least got an ice cream---since they don't serve anything stiffer.

Once home and everyone is fed, the little one took a 1.5 hour nap. The big one futzed for 3 hours in his room. I give up and give in, we get in the car to run an errand. We're not even off our street before the big one is asleep! By the time we get home, they're both asleep. It's now 5pm! Everyone should be awake. Do I let them sleep? Do I get them up for dinner? Will they wake on their own and still go to bed on time?
Both wake, get fed, get washed, and get back into bed! On time! I even got to go for a run on my own. I even got some homework done!

All of this is just a regular day's work! It's a good thing I love my job and I get the best pay in the world--tight hugs, big kisses, and gummy smiles. Or I might have to reevaluate this career choice.

Like mother, like son

Apparently, Winnie the Pooh is just a fat and overindulged blob who hasn't been stung enough to know he shouldn't put his paw in the honey.
As some of you know, I'm not a fan of Pooh (in any context) even though I LOVE teddy bears. I don't mind some of the Classic Pooh baby clothes and such, but the stories just don't work for me.
I guess they don't work for Andy either. We're still recovering from a huge fit of crocodile tears. It seems that Pooh or Tigger or someone just did something that freaked Andy out! All I could get out of the tears and babble was Pooh...He just kept pointing to the TV and screaming! I don't know if he was sad for the characters or mad or scared. But beary upset, for sure!
Thank goodness that on weekdays the Disney Channel only has one episode on! Sat and Sun's double feature is a bit too much for this household.
All the more reason for us to go get ready for church!

Hmm, maybe some things are better left unsaid

All of last night and most of today, I've wondered if maybe I shouldn't have admitted to losing my cool yesterday. Maybe I shouldn't have shown my ass like that. I wondered what people might think of me now. As though most probably don't already think I'm a bit of a mess, yesterday's post probably confirmed it.
I lost control and overreacted. But I would also like to think that at some point, every other mom does too. Maybe not to the extent of pulling over the car to yell at their two year old. But I think at some point it gets to be too much and before you know it, you've blown your stack when you totally intended to stay as cool as a cucumber.
If this is the case, and I'm not the only one who set outs with great intentions in motherhood but sometimes just don't live up to my own expectations, then know that you're not alone. You might not admit it out loud like I did. But know that you're not alone.
If this isn't you, and you do manage to keep your cool, I really commend you. I mean that in the most non-snarky manner possible. I really admire those moms who always seem, no matter how close to the edge they wobble, to always maintain control.
I joke about my lack of patience and my confessions at church. But the truth is, every time I go to church, I pray for forgiveness for being too impatient with my children and my husband, and I ask for the strength to be more forgiving and patient.
Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to keep my cool for more than a week at a time.
On a brighter note, the big one got all his pee-pee and three rounds of a major poop in his potty today! The poop being a first. I can't even begin to express my pride. He really seemed to respond well to the affirmation I offered after each success.
Maybe this week'll be better...

Kicking the back of seats and nails on a chalkboard

Why is it that some things just get under your skin and on your nerves, doing a raucous jig, like no other? And yet other things just slide like water off a duck's back?
Now that Andy is back to sitting behind me, I want to just cut his little feet off when he starts kicking my chair. I've tried to tell him that it makes me angry and/or sad, I've tried to hold his feet as a sort of time out, I've told him that it hurts mommy. He just does it harder and more often. I finally just lost it today. I pulled over, unsnapped my belt, and turned around and yelled at him and spanked the top of his feet. I only did this b/c we were on a quiet, residential, side street. So much for my experiment in calmness. It was a complete combo of the annoying kicking and the fact that he just didn't listen. Of course he burst into tears (which I totally almost did too if I hadn't been driving--I felt so remorseful for losing my cool) and then I used my deep dog training voice and told him to stop crying and stop kicking my chair. Lo and behold, both stopped! Instantly! So I have been right all these years, training dogs and raising kids are pretty much the same.
Is it that the deep more masculine voice sends an alpha message to kids just like it does to dogs? Is that why dear husband only has to say something once; whereas, I have to say the same thing in the higher pitched nagging mommy voice several times?
While all this is going on, the baby is screaming bloody murder b/c he's tired and it's bedtime. And rather than be home getting ready for nite-nite, we're finishing some errands for Daddy, who has duty.
I was totally able to overlook the frantic five month old but the two year old just got my goat.
I can handle a kid (not even my own) peeing, pooping, dripping his/her snotty nose on me, crying out of sleepy frustration but I can't handle a toddler being a toddler. Is it because the bodily functions just can't be helped but disobedience can? I need to just come to terms with the fact that my two year old is in toddler adolescence. He's got a newly discovered independent personality and he's testing his boundaries--otherwise known as adolescence. Except with this version I still get a hug, kiss, and snuggle at the end of the day.
So what is it about pet peeves?
Why do some things just get you like none other and some things just can't phase you?
How come I can tolerate my (sometimes) better half leaving coffee cup rings all over my white counters or his leaving the lid off of pots after he's gotten a serving, but I absolutely want to go ape sh*t when he doesn't straighten the damp shower curtain and properly hang up his towel after a shower or doesn't get his clothes into the hamper but rather on the floor next to it?
How about the fact that I can patiently listen to a non-native speaker stumble through the English language but the unabashed butchering of the past tense of verbs and utter disregard of adverbs by a "local" just makes me want to rant (much as I am now). Is this because I grew up with a non-native English speaker (my dad) and a fresh off the plane English (from England) speaker (my mom)?
George Carlin says that anyone going slower than you on the highway is an idiot and anyone going faster is a maniac. I can deal with the turtles and the speedy Gonzales (usually with an under the breath expletive) but the person who doesn't use a turn signal or can't yield when merging makes me want to report them for failure to properly operate their vehicle.
So really. What is it that makes some things just piss you off like a homicidal maniac and other things just leave you (comparatively) feeling as calm as a soul who has just found nirvana?
Let me know before all my hair turns grey and I have noticeable bald spots!

Are they still breathing?

It's 7:45 in the morning and all is quiet in the house. As I scribe this little story, both of my little munchkins are still sound asleep. I've gotten the laptop and crawled back into bed. Me...in bed...at 7:45 in the morning!!!! It's a miracle!
I never would have thought, three short years ago (before two pregnancies and two babies) that being able to be in bed at this time would a) feel so late and b) feel like such a treat.
Normally, my children are up at 6 something rain or shine, seven days a week. Since they don't know the concept of weekends, they don't know the concept of sleeping in. I've been looking forward to the days when I can leave a little breakfast out for the boys and let them watch some cartoons on their own. I remember having my special Saturday morning treat, I'd get up and find a donut and a prepoured glass of milk in the fridge for me. I'd creep into the living room and watch my cartoons at 7 in the morning. My parents would get up a couple hours later but I was good--I was fed and content with TV. I'm trying to wipe the cobwebs out of my memory and remember how old I was when this routine began. That way I can figure out how long I have until the big one is old enough to do this too. And better yet, is old enough to help the little one.
Darling husband is at work and I'm watching Today instead of Higgly Town Heroes on Disney. This could be a Taster's Choice moment, if only I drank coffee.
As tired and bedraggled as I am most mornings, I take getting up early in stride. It's just one of the tasks that comes along with motherhood. Your time is just never really yours anymore. And that's fine. I'll take a 6 am wakeup call everyday if it means that I get to spend every day with my boys.
But mornings like this are bliss! Just like afternoons when they're both asleep--at the same time.
It's also mornings like this that make me realize that truly, I'm very introverted. I can be extroverted as the situation calls. I do enjoy spending time out and about with others; I mean "No Man is An Island". But as an only child and then a young adult who lived alone for four years, it's been a big transition for me to not only have a constant husband but constant children. Sometimes I forget how much I revel in being alone. I so rarely get this time alone that I'm in a position to not miss what I don't have. But today, I'm reminded that sometimes it's just nice to not have any sticky fingers on me or fingers being gnawed on by a teether or to have to get up when I'd much rather be sleeping off the two middle of the night wake ups.
So I shall leave you all now so that I can roll over and watch Matt and Meridith in my big (and almost empty--I get all the pillows to myself) king size bed ALONE!!!! Let me soak up my solitude before I have to jump (or rather get pushed) back into motherhood.
Oh well, I wasn't quick enough. I hear the big one. It's not time to make the donuts, but it is time to be the mommy.

Prattling and other nonsense

As we all know, I can definitely hold my own in a conversation and then some (uh, in the past three weeks or so since I started this blog, I've only not posted about three days and sometimes more than once a day). But really, maybe I should just hush!
I ran into a mommy friend this evening at the Sunset Farmers Market and I realized as I walked away, that maybe I should just hush. Maybe people just want to go on about their business and not listen to me just verbally meander (as I meantally meander).
Why is it that I feel this need to more than hold up my end of the conversation? Why do I worry that there will be a lull and so I just prattle on and on and on and on and on....?
If less is more, than maybe I ought to just choose my words more wisely and say less. I'm most guilty of the verbal diarrhea when leaving a voicemail. My goodness, sometimes even I think that I've left too long a message (especially when the automated system comes on and says that my message could not be saved---b/c I went over the allotted time--and would I like to rerecord). I should take a hint from the nice mechanized lady.
Darling hubby is probably my most targeted victim. He gets it on a daily basis. After almost six years of being a couple, I'm surprised he listens to me at all. It must sound like a Charlie Brown cartoon---waa--wawa--waa. He often has to tell me, "okay, enough, I heard you." And the worst part is that sometimes, I've gone on such a verbal bender that I'm not even sure what I've just told him so I don't know what he's had a enough of!
I wonder if it was my high school speech and debate training. I was a highly ranked extemporaneous speaker (go figure that I could excel at being given a topic and 30 mins to come up with a 7 min speach on a random foreign affairs topic) and part of the rigmarole of the "game" was to lay a road map. "Tell them what you're going to tell them, tell them, tell them one more time, and then tell them that you told them." I seem to still be in this mentality.
Or is it just my own idiosyncrasy. That I just have to have the last word or that I just like to hear me or that because I have two kids under three that I just need to talk to someone so I seize any chance I get. I just don't know. If I did, this wouldn't be such a long post. I'd have figured out a way to be more concise---but here in lies the irony.
When I was a teenager, I never understood why my mom couldn't just enjoy companionable silence with me. She just always talked. It wasn't a bad thing, I just sometimes didn't feel like chattering. She used to say that she just felt the need to hold up the conversation. As a mom, am I now my mom?
Perhaps I should take a lesson from the Eastern philosophies of being more observant, less self imposing and self involved, and just quieter.
And so I just leave you with this:
Confucius says," SHHHH!"

Look with your eyes not with your mouth

This little expression was used very frequently by several of my elementary school teachers. Along with MYOB (mind your own business) and XYZPDQ (Examine Your Zipper, Pretty Darn Quick).
It came to mind today as I was thinking about how judgmental I tend to be. I often see people and think things that I should just not bother with. For example, if I see a little munchkin out after dark, I don't think "awe what a cute family," instead "shouldn't s/he be in bed by now." Or instead of thinking "good for that lady out running," I think "she'd better run a little faster or a little longer." Sometimes I even take myself by surprise at how vicious I can be to the unsuspecting and unknowing passerby. And so sometimes I think that I should just look with my eyes and not let my mind say anything.
Today, a few of my mommy friends and I took our little ones to the pool (because it is HOT when it's 80-90 w/ 70% humidity and NO AC). And I watched the other mommies with their little ones. I feel as though I'm always the screeching banshee with Andy. I feel like others must think that all I do is yell at him and tell him what he can't do, rather than offer him positive reinforcement for what he does well. It was interesting to watch the other mommies interact with their little ones. The patience and calmness with which they handle their children gave me cause to just observe for a while. It was truly a lesson.
Perhaps if I were calmer, less of a yeller, and just generally nicer then maybe the good mojo would be reciprocated by Andy. I'm not saying he's not a good little boy, because he really is. Compared to some (there I go being judgmental again, but oh well---that's the whole point of this, I'm working on it), he really is a great kid. But the shrieking and screaming lately makes me wonder if it really is just his lack of verbal skills that cause frustration or if he's mimicking my behavior, which is to yell at him.
As one of my friends mentioned, she's very calm b/c her little girl feeds off of her. If the mommy yells then the little girl doesn't respond well. Hmm...I knew this already about kids in general. I learned this as a camp counselor when I was a teen, I saw it as a substitute now that I'm an adult. I just wish I could internalize it enough to be able to utilize it with my own children.
So anyway, I guess what I'm getting at is that sometimes, I realize that really I just ought to watch others and learn. And another adage comes to mind, if you haven't anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. If Andy isn't really doing anything wrong (just ---slightly, ok, really-- annoying), then let it go. Just let it go. Just let it go. And focus more on the things that he's doing well. Compliment and praise him rather than only respond to the things he does wrong. Perhaps that's why there are so many adages along these line---it's easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar; live and let live; pick your battles, choose with hill you want to die on...If there weren't some truth to these, we wouldn't still be saying them.
If I focus more on what he does right, then maybe just maybe, I'd see that desirable behavior more often. I don't need to offer a reward (an extrinsic motivator) but perhaps the praise will be enough create an intrinsic desire to continue that good behavior.
So I'm setting this experiment for the next week:
1. When Andy does something good or right, offer verbal praise, a hug, and/or kiss. Make a conscientious effort on this, don't miss any opportunities to praise.
2. If Andy does something annoying, either let it go or try to find something positive to redirect his attention.
3. And if he does do something naughty, CALMLY reprimand and correct him (either w/ a verbal reprimand, a time out, or removal of the stimulus).
Hopefully, by the end of this 7 day trial, I will not have had to spank him at all. I will feel calmer. I will have a better behaved child. I will have looked with my eyes and not always with my mouth. And most importantly, I will have a happier and calmer son.

Wish me luck!

I am THAT retentive

Several of you have commented on my "organizational" skills. Come on folks, just call it as it is: I'm retentive! For those of you who have known me for a while, this does not come as a shock. For those of you getting to know me--surprise!
Actually, this made it super easy to know just how many jars I needed and when to have them. Since the doc told me it's at least 8 tries before you can say your kid doesn't like something, I just fed the food to Andy for 8 straight days. The first four tries were in the morning (to check for reactions) then bumped it down to the evening and added a new food in the morning. By about the sixth day, Andy liked every new food. I guess it was easier for him to give up and give in.
Here's a preview to Matt's food schedule. Sorry it's kind of small. I had to copy it into Paint to save as a jpeg and bring into here. But you get the idea (click on it for a bigger view).

Praise be to Gerber and put a kibosh on permissiveness

If you've seen me recently, you may have noticed my raccoon eyes. The cavernous bags under my eyes are the result of Matt effectively abandoning his 10 hours straight sleep pattern and replacing it with an every 1 3/4-3 hours feeding frenzy. Shoot me in my head!!!

As much as I really wanted to nurse exclusively for six months with Matt (since this feeding frenzy happened to Andy at the beginning of his fourth month--as opposed to Matt, at the end of his fourth month), I relented and started cereal today!

PRAISE BE TO GERBER!!! And so begins my Sunday homily.

Now that I've written this, I know I've jinxed myself and what I'm about to tell will just be a fluke. I tried to give him his first batch of cereal as fortified milk. One tablespoon in about an ounce and a half of milk. Needless to say, since he doesn't take a bottle, he didn't take fortified milk in a bottle. My friend, Amber, sent me a fantastic bottle that seems to be more successful than any of the others but still not great (I think, as nervous as I am to ruin the bottle, I need to poke a couple more holes in the bottle b/c one hole just isn't enough flow).

So I decided to just put Matt in the highchair (for the first time) and spoon feed him. When I did this with Andy (did this before figuring out to put it in a bottle), it ended up ALL over his face. With Matt, from the get go I made it far more like soupy cereal than fortified milk. Having tested his response to a spoon a couple of days ago, I just went in for the kill. I had to respoon a few bites but it all made it into him. One tablespoon and a few generous squirts of milk. Can you say chow hound? I then nursed and put him down for a nap. He slept for almost TWO hours in his crib! Those are two milestone---the two hours of sleep and the two hours of sleep in his crib during the day. Not in the swing!

I did the same thing six hours later. This time there was even more cereal. Another nursing and nap time. Almost another two hours went by. During this time, Andy was asleep and John was out. BLISS!!!!

I gave him the thickest consistency tonight. We'll see how long he goes tonight.

So all of this made me think about how I'm parenting Matt as opposed to Andy. I always swore that regardless of birth order, I would not make life easier for one child than another--I would make it equally difficult for them all! But then again there were a lot of things that I swore I would or wouldn't do with my children---but that was all before they actually arrived. I was adamant that I would only tell my children something once and if it was overlooked, forgotten, or disobeyed, it would result in swift and instant punishment. Now I catch myself calling Andy's name two, three, four, even fives times. And then when I do finally get his attention, I'm not always sure what I want to do with him. I still think I'm pretty strict with Andy but I don't have the control (which is an issue I have to begin with) that I had hoped.

So does this mean that I will be easier with Matt than with Andy? Will I just be broken in or worn out enough that Matt will get away with more than Andy? I wondered this today as I reflected on the introduction of cereal. Granted Andy took a bottle by the time cereal was introduced so he was on fortified milk for a few weeks. But I gave him cereal only twice a day--one in his first bottle of the day at daycare and then one in the evening when we got home before bath and his finally nursing. Matt's already had three servings on just his first day! I figured that he didn't immediately go into anaphylaxis, he didn't scream or writhe in pain due to gastro pains and he didn't erupt in hives, so he must be fine. Right?

At four months old, I started to gently Ferberize Andy. That meant for every hour of nap time, he would sleep (cumulatively) for 20 mins and scream for about (cumulatively) 40 mins. But I was determined that he would sleep in his crib and that he would go down drowsy but not asleep. Matt has napped in his crib probably three times since coming home and not being a newborn who sleeps 20-22 hours a day. I wait until the very last minute to put him into his bed at night. Just before he falls into a deep sleep. He opens his eyes and realizes that he's being put down but instantly passes out. And it's great! No screaming, no fussing. But I wonder as he gets older, how long will it take him to get to the point where I can put him down awake and not have him scream or fuss. Am I laying the foundation now for a harder time later because it's just easier to use this method?

I still intend to be just as retentive about the introduction of fruits and vegetables. I'm looking forward to updating the calendar I used for Andy. I can't wait to print it out and post it on the fridge. Eight days for each food, four days in the morning and then four days in the evening (on the fifth day a new food enters the morning cycle).

But will I be less retentive about other things? I wonder what will happen once they're teenagers. Are they close enough in age that Andy won't really have time to wear me down before Matt enters into whatever stage Andy is just finishing?

Is this wearing down and wearing out of parents the reason why teenagers have not had a sense of courtesy and respect instilled in them? Are parents so permissive these days because with multiple children and frequently both parents working outside the home, they just don't have the stamina to fight their children about what they can and can't do? Or is it a sense of guilt or just apathy that leads so many parents to be permissive these days? Or did the need to have it all, I am woman hear me roar mentality of my parents' generation cause many of my generation's women to feel the need to stay at home with their children and compensate for the lack of time and perhaps attention that they did not receive from their out of the home working mothers.

Previous generations had larger families with far more children so one might think that by the third or fourth or twelfth child, they would have gotten away with far more than the first or even second. Women stayed at home and dealt with the children (ahh the mighty Cult of Domesticity) rather than work outside the home but I think, though, that there was just a much higher expectation and thus standard of behavior. I think that the subsequents probably were allowed a little more freedom than the older or oldest. But at the same time, I think just in general there was less tolerance of bad behavior. The days of chasing your child with a wooden spoon or saying, "just wait until your father gets home," may be over but the need for boundaries and discipline are not. So why are parents so permissive these days?

You need a permit to go fishing, a permit to go hunting, a permit to drive and operate heavy equipment, and even a permit to get married. Someone else has to allow or condone it. These things either require a test or training. But no one needs a permit to have a child. All of them have the potential to create dire circumstances but the thought of possibly ruining a person's life from the start hasn't made us, as a human race, realize that maybe some preemptive training should be a requirement. (I get that there is no definitive right way to parent and that we won't all agree on how to parent--I'm not that naive, I'm speaking more abstractly). It may be an inalienable right to have children, but just because you can doesn't mean everyone should. If you're not prepared to put in the time and effort the raise your children (as best you can) then don't have them in the first place. Use whatever means you need or believe in to prevent it. Now don't misunderstand me, I realize there is no perfect parent and we all make a botch of something in our child's life. But as long as you make an honest effort, I respect that. None of our children are or will be perfect. They'll be naughty as kids (ahhem, peeing in drawers, pulling of the mattress...), trying as teens (anyone want to take bets now on how many parent conference I will have to attend and for which one), and sometimes entirely too independent as adults (hopefully they'll be wise with their money and their hearts), but that's normal. What I take issue with are the parents who have children but can't be bothered to make the effort to raise them---the permissive parents. So maybe Matt will get away with a bit more than Andy. Maybe he won't, maybe by the time he's ready to pee in his drawers, I will have figured out a more effective way to discipline. But either way, neither boy will get away with that much (knock on wood) because in the words of one of my favorite dads (Cliff Huxtable aka Bill Cosby), "I brought you into this world, I'll take you out."