Joe and I are embarking on a year+ of trying to live more frugally. Not that we've ever been very extravagant people, but we've been pretty used to having plenty of money and doing with it what we want. Usually what we want is nothing too insane, but it's been a little haphazard. We feel like now is a good time in our lives to change some of these habits, set up some new habits for the next phase of our lives, make some goals and learn to set a good example for our kids.
Our first step is that we're currently enrolled in Dave Ramsay's Financial Peace University, which I was highly skeptical about. But, while I know that you can find this information all over the place and don't really need to go to a class, I know myself well enough to know that without the outside motivation of needing to get my homework done and having people hold me accountable, I'm not going to do it. Because I hate finances. Budgeting, investing, etc. I hate it all. I hate reading about it, I hate taking the time to do it, I just... hate it. It also forces Joe and I to talk to each other and make long term goals together. We've just started but so far we think it will be really good for us and we're glad we're doing in now as more of a learning/preventative measure than potentially in the future needing it to dig us out of debt or help us gain control.
Other than that we have big steps and little steps for using this next year and a half to set ourselves up for the future. The big ones include:
- sticking to our new budget, especially using the "cash envelope" system (which terrifies me).
- emergency fund! Which we want to be fully funded for 3 months (to start). That's a goal that's pretty easily in our reach, so that was nice. (It can feel so overwhelming!)
- staying in our small(er) home for another year to take advantage of the great rent price and practice simplicity.
- planning for our big expenses in advance (traveling home for Christmas, birth bill)
- tackling remaining student loans with more purpose. We've always paid on time and the full amount, so we're doing well, but we want to get a bit more aggressive with them.
- connecting with each other regularly to discuss finances after the class is over!
Small steps include the little things like:
- careful meal planning on my part, including taking advantage of my part-time work status to do things like bake my own bread instead of spend the money on store bought. I always wondered who bought the giant bags of flour at the grocery store. Me. I do. Still cheaper than buying bread.
- taking advantage of all of the fun, free activities this area has to offer!
- making wise spending decisions. For example, do I need to spend $15/semester on gym time with Z? Nope, that is not a need. BUT! will it greatly increase both of our happiness to get out of the house during the cold winter months and interact with other humans while he can run crazy to his heart's content? YES! Worth it. Same with budgeting for date nights with Joe.
Wish us well. This is my "accountability" post that I will think of when I want to slack off.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
On the bright side, I didn't get hysterical.
Z has had a fever on and off since Sunday. It was pretty unimpressive Sunday, not very high and went away pretty quickly so we didn't think much of it. But, it wouldn't stay away. Every day it would pop up, go away, come back. He was pretty miserable in the mornings but then would seem to perk up in the afternoon. He had a cough, so I figured he had some sort of cold virus and I just kept waiting for it to pass.
I started to feel a little panicked Wednesday night when he woke up burning hot and I started second guessing my decision to "wait and see." Thursday, he woke up with a temp of 99.4 but ate a good breakfast and seemed okay, although unusually whiny and impatient, which had been par for the course the past few days, so I thought we were in the clear. But, when he woke up from his nap, his temperature had risen to 101.5 and I decided to call his practice's nurse line. Because of his cough, the nurse recommended I bring him in and I got an appointment for that afternoon.
When we got there, I was asked to have him wear this:
I started to feel a little panicked Wednesday night when he woke up burning hot and I started second guessing my decision to "wait and see." Thursday, he woke up with a temp of 99.4 but ate a good breakfast and seemed okay, although unusually whiny and impatient, which had been par for the course the past few days, so I thought we were in the clear. But, when he woke up from his nap, his temperature had risen to 101.5 and I decided to call his practice's nurse line. Because of his cough, the nurse recommended I bring him in and I got an appointment for that afternoon.
When we got there, I was asked to have him wear this:
I started to feel a little scared again. But he was doing so well. Firstly, he actually left that mask on his face after some discussion. Then he let the nurse examine him without any crying (a first!). She gave me the gently grave face and told me his O2 stats were low and the fear ratcheted up one more notch.
Z kept up the great behavior. His regular pediatrician had left the practice, so we were seeing someone new but I guess he liked her because he let her check him out with minimal crying. I was so proud of him, but my relief was short lived when she sent us to get a chest x-ray.
Guys, I had a remarkably healthy childhood. I did used to get bronchitis a lot and I feel like I had more than my fair share of strep throat, but I never needed stitches, broke a bone, needed an x-ray, etc. My medical care during pregnancy probably equates to my medical care for about... all of my life. All of this to say I don't have a ton of comfort or experience with the medical world, so when they tell me my baby needs a chest x-ray, I freak out on the inside.
While we waited our turn I thought to myself, I guess I'll need like a vest or something to protect Bebo. Nope. I wasn't allowed in the room, which I'm sure was the right and good thing to do, but it didn't really help me feel better while I stood outside listening to my child scream for me while I could do nothing. Horrible. Horrible moment. On the bright side, I didn't get hysterical. I started to cry but managed to pull myself together because I didn't want him to see me crying when he came out and be more upset.
He clung to me like a little monkey when he got out, but he did really, really well the rest of our visit while the doctor completely blew me away with a diagnosis of pneumonia. Pneumonia?! WHAT?! How!?!?! After sinking into the depths of mommy guilt and despair for a few minutes (I'm the worst mother ever! I should have brought him in days ago!!) I pulled myself together and we got chocolate frozen custard while we waited for the pharmacy to fill his prescription. Seeing his big ol' smile and hearing the "yumyumyum" while he scarfed down his custard made me feel better. He surely deserved a treat after all that and I felt so proud of him. He's growing up, for reals, and I'm proud and nostalgic all at the same time.
It's been a long week but I'm really thankful it happened this week and not the first week of classes next week. However, I feel exhausted and fully intend to be in my bed at 8 PM tonight.
Friday, January 16, 2015
"Looking great!" and a little PSA from my adventures last night
That's what my OB told me at my last appointment. I burst out laughing, but honestly, I appreciate the ego boost. I think I've said before that pregnancy is not something that I wear with delight. The weight gain really gets me down and I don't feel cute or glowing or whatever. With both my pregnancies I've had insane, painful, giant, red, splotchy breakouts like I have not had since high school and that's just not pretty. Bleck. Hearing that I was on track for healthy weight gain, my blood pressure is perfect and that Bebo is a healthy, active little guy really made my day.
I feel smaller than I did with Z, which is the opposite of what I was anticipating. I guess I look about the same now that I'm looking at photos. Behold, approximately same week, same sweater, different son:
I feel smaller than I did with Z, which is the opposite of what I was anticipating. I guess I look about the same now that I'm looking at photos. Behold, approximately same week, same sweater, different son:
I'm getting really excited about this new little guy as he seems more and more real to me. I'm really grateful for the excitement because I felt pretty terrible that the first half of this pregnancy went by in a haze of grumpy sickness. I have no idea, NO IDEA, how we are going to handle two children. Just, no clue. But, the one big difference between this pregnancy and Z's is that I'm okay with being clueless. Nothing can prepare me for this little guy because he's his own person. Even having Z can't prepare me, because Bebo might hate all the things Z loved and vice versa.
The one thing I know is that we can make it through because Joe is a great husband and a loving father. I truly believe the success of a family rests on the bedrock of parents that are committed to working together as a team, whatever that may look like. I'm so thankful that I have that in Joe and it makes me confident that we can meet whatever challenges may come along.
By the way, Joe and I are totally having a love day on Monday and I'm so excited. Z will be at daycare, we will be playing hooky from all work and responsibilities and doing whatever we want, just the two of us. I swear, I will not do even one home, work or baby related chore that day. I might even insist we get pizza for dinner. At least a frozen one. :)
**Pregnancy PSA**
Apparently round ligament pain can be SO BAD that you might think you're going into preterm labor or have the worst kidney infection ever or maybe that your ovary is rupturing. You'll tough out the pain for about an hour before you call the on call doctor in despair around 9:30 PM while you wonder if the pain is too bad for you to drive yourself to the ER so that you don't have to wake your other child.
^ My night last night. After the doctor gave me a few warning signs to watch for and told me, yes, round ligament pain can be that bad, especially if you're dehydrated, I was able to deal with the pain much more easily knowing that little mister was not in any danger. He was, however, pretty annoyed about the ice pack I was applying because it was the one thing that brought some relief. Seriously, guys, this was really bad pain. I'm not a pain wuss, I'm just not. I'm pretty good at coping with it if I know why I'm in pain (I think that's why I was able to do the unmedicated labor). But, dang! I had no idea round ligament pain could hurt that much and it scared me. I'm very grateful that my practice has an on call doctor I can reach 24/7 because worrying that Bebo might be in trouble was terrifying.
All is well now. Preggers chicks: drink you water and take your vitamins!! I'm normally really good about this but yesterday Z and I were so busy that I just kept not drinking water and I'd forgotten to take my pre-natal. I remember thinking about being thirsty multiple times during the day. The doctor said that is probably why the pain was so bad.
PS- Don't read this and then ignore severe pain all like "Oh, just round ligament" instead of calling. Always call.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Egads - The Tale of the Cold Turkey
Okay, I know a lot of people are going to shake their heads and cluck their tongues at me for this, but frankly, I don't really care anymore. I used to care, a lot in fact, but I'm over it.
Here's the situation. Z still has had three bottles in his life.
1. Wake up bottle while getting his diaper changed and dressed.
2. Nighttime bottle during story time BEFORE teeth brushing
3. Bottle of water in his crib for him to access if he so desired.
I know that "everyone" says you need to take away the bottle at one, but I just didn't want to. For Z, his bottle is his big comfort item. It's like his pacifier. He never, ever took a pacifier so he got all his sucking gratification from a bottle. The big issue with bottles after 1 is "bottle rot," but Z was not drinking milk bottles in the night (well, extremely rarely) so his teeth were being brushed after every bottle that had milk in it (and he only drinks milk or water). Hence, bottle rot was not an issue. This child loves his bottle. Loves it. He would carry it around all day if I would let him, which I never have except when he had Hand, Foot and Mouth because I was terrified of him getting dehydrated.
I kept thinking that I should take away the bottle but something always stopped me. First it was that we moved shortly after he turned 1. Then it was that he was starting at daycare. Then, once he started daycare, it was one illness after another as he went through the daycare germ exposure. So I put it off and I started to just care less and less. After all, kids keep their pacifiers WAY after one and basically, Z was using his bottle as his pacifier. I'd basically made up my mind that I wasn't going to worry about it anymore until after Bebo was born and everything settled down.
Until Z chewed halfway through his water bottle's nipple one night. That rang the death knell for the bottles. I knew I couldn't let him have them anymore because I'd be too afraid he would chew off the nipple tip during the night and choke. Joe and I talked it over and decided that the best plan of attack for our strong willed kiddo was to go cold turkey.
Day 1: I showed him the broken bottle and told him all the babas were broken now so we had to say bye-bye. Then I threw it in the trash can.
He cried.
When he got out of the bath (when he normally has his night time bottle) I gave him a cup of milk instead. He cried. I gave him a snack of yogurt instead. He loved that and eventually (and bitterly) drank about half of his milk.
I put him to bed without his water bottle, but with his new sippy cup (which he was super excited about before he realized it was replacing his baba). He cried. CRIED! Like a banshee. I almost cried. Luckily the crying lasted not more than 5 minutes so I was able to avoid the sobbing, I'm the cruelest, worst mother in the world!!!! drama.
Then the s*** hit the fan. He woke up about an hour later and scream scolded me for two hours. I wish I could reasonably represent what this sounds like but it's impossible. It's like a mix between an angry bird, angry squirrel, and... I don't know. Sounds sort of like, "mehmehmehmeh!! MEHMAMAMA!!" Really pissed. It wasn't constant. I would soothe him, get him quiet and drowsy, lay him in his crib, leave the room, and BAM 10 minutes later the rage began. I finally had to give up and just put him in his crib and set the timer for 10 minutes to make myself not go in there. He yelled for about 8 and then rolled around for about 10 more and went back to sleep.
Up at... I don't know. I was too foggy. 1? 2? I seriously can't remember. I gave him some water from a sippy and snuggled him a bit and he was back down. I fell asleep on his floor because I didn't believe he was really going to stay asleep. He woke again around 5 and Joe came and told me to go to bed. Z and I slept until about 8:30 AM while Joe headed off to work after having slept the rest of the morning on Z's floor to prevent his stubborn wife from getting up again.
Day 2
Post-bath he was still mad about not getting a bottle. He wouldn't even touch the sippy cup. He ate his yogurt snack happily (a little too happily because he thought getting yogurt on his naked chest was super fun).
BUT! Went to sleep within 10 minutes of getting in his crib at 7 PM. Woke up... 6:30 AM! WOOOOOT! I feel like million bucks.
So now we are on Day 3. He was still pretty mad at me about not getting his bottle this morning because he woke up dying of starvation, I guess? Not sure. So it wasn't the happiest morning, but there have been crabby mornings other times for no discernible reason, so who really knows?
It's honestly going better than I thought so I'm pleased. Z has clearly got some major developments going on in his life right now (including starting to cut two of his last molars), so this wasn't what I would call an ideal time to shake up his world, but c'est la vie kiddo. I'm super proud of him right now and kiss him madly until he pushes me away like, ENOUGH MAMA! It's never enough buddy. Get used to it.
Here's the situation. Z still has had three bottles in his life.
1. Wake up bottle while getting his diaper changed and dressed.
2. Nighttime bottle during story time BEFORE teeth brushing
3. Bottle of water in his crib for him to access if he so desired.
I know that "everyone" says you need to take away the bottle at one, but I just didn't want to. For Z, his bottle is his big comfort item. It's like his pacifier. He never, ever took a pacifier so he got all his sucking gratification from a bottle. The big issue with bottles after 1 is "bottle rot," but Z was not drinking milk bottles in the night (well, extremely rarely) so his teeth were being brushed after every bottle that had milk in it (and he only drinks milk or water). Hence, bottle rot was not an issue. This child loves his bottle. Loves it. He would carry it around all day if I would let him, which I never have except when he had Hand, Foot and Mouth because I was terrified of him getting dehydrated.
I kept thinking that I should take away the bottle but something always stopped me. First it was that we moved shortly after he turned 1. Then it was that he was starting at daycare. Then, once he started daycare, it was one illness after another as he went through the daycare germ exposure. So I put it off and I started to just care less and less. After all, kids keep their pacifiers WAY after one and basically, Z was using his bottle as his pacifier. I'd basically made up my mind that I wasn't going to worry about it anymore until after Bebo was born and everything settled down.
Until Z chewed halfway through his water bottle's nipple one night. That rang the death knell for the bottles. I knew I couldn't let him have them anymore because I'd be too afraid he would chew off the nipple tip during the night and choke. Joe and I talked it over and decided that the best plan of attack for our strong willed kiddo was to go cold turkey.
Day 1: I showed him the broken bottle and told him all the babas were broken now so we had to say bye-bye. Then I threw it in the trash can.
He cried.
When he got out of the bath (when he normally has his night time bottle) I gave him a cup of milk instead. He cried. I gave him a snack of yogurt instead. He loved that and eventually (and bitterly) drank about half of his milk.
I put him to bed without his water bottle, but with his new sippy cup (which he was super excited about before he realized it was replacing his baba). He cried. CRIED! Like a banshee. I almost cried. Luckily the crying lasted not more than 5 minutes so I was able to avoid the sobbing, I'm the cruelest, worst mother in the world!!!! drama.
Then the s*** hit the fan. He woke up about an hour later and scream scolded me for two hours. I wish I could reasonably represent what this sounds like but it's impossible. It's like a mix between an angry bird, angry squirrel, and... I don't know. Sounds sort of like, "mehmehmehmeh!! MEHMAMAMA!!" Really pissed. It wasn't constant. I would soothe him, get him quiet and drowsy, lay him in his crib, leave the room, and BAM 10 minutes later the rage began. I finally had to give up and just put him in his crib and set the timer for 10 minutes to make myself not go in there. He yelled for about 8 and then rolled around for about 10 more and went back to sleep.
Up at... I don't know. I was too foggy. 1? 2? I seriously can't remember. I gave him some water from a sippy and snuggled him a bit and he was back down. I fell asleep on his floor because I didn't believe he was really going to stay asleep. He woke again around 5 and Joe came and told me to go to bed. Z and I slept until about 8:30 AM while Joe headed off to work after having slept the rest of the morning on Z's floor to prevent his stubborn wife from getting up again.
Day 2
Post-bath he was still mad about not getting a bottle. He wouldn't even touch the sippy cup. He ate his yogurt snack happily (a little too happily because he thought getting yogurt on his naked chest was super fun).
BUT! Went to sleep within 10 minutes of getting in his crib at 7 PM. Woke up... 6:30 AM! WOOOOOT! I feel like million bucks.
So now we are on Day 3. He was still pretty mad at me about not getting his bottle this morning because he woke up dying of starvation, I guess? Not sure. So it wasn't the happiest morning, but there have been crabby mornings other times for no discernible reason, so who really knows?
It's honestly going better than I thought so I'm pleased. Z has clearly got some major developments going on in his life right now (including starting to cut two of his last molars), so this wasn't what I would call an ideal time to shake up his world, but c'est la vie kiddo. I'm super proud of him right now and kiss him madly until he pushes me away like, ENOUGH MAMA! It's never enough buddy. Get used to it.
 |
| Nesting is a very serious matter requiring concentration and intense study. |
Monday, January 12, 2015
We have a mumps outbreak. Seriously.
I don't really like to get on soapboxes. Well, that's not really true. I love to rant to my friends and family. It's actually one of my favorite things. But, I don't really like to argue or fight with people about issues I know people disagree with me about, especially on facebook or something like that. Most of my facebook friends are on the same vaccine page as I am, but I'm pretty sure some are not. I'm not going to give all the reasons or state arguments. And I'm not going to engage in a debate because there is absolutely no chance in the world that I am going to change my mind. I'm going to simply say two facts:
1. There was a measles outbreak at Disneyland. Two of my friends were there with their young babies, too young to have received the MMR. Their babies could have easily gotten sick. Measles could have killed them because they are so young and vulnerable. This is very serious.
2. I found out from my OB today that there is a mumps outbreak currently occurring right here. Since mumps has not been an issue in so long, the majority of adults don't bother to get a booster and therefore when they get exposed to an unvaccinated, infected child, they contract the disease. You can bet I'll be getting a booster for myself and Joe as soon as little Bebo is born.
This is real life. These are diseases we've forgotten about because we are privileged and lucky to live in a country where vaccinations are readily available to us. Don't let fear mongering trap you and blind you. Don't take the blessing of living in this country for granted. There are children in the third world literally dying for these vaccines that first world parents are turning their noses up at. We've forgotten how devastating and terrible these diseases were. We've forgotten how many children lost their lives to them.
Be wise. Be thoughtful. And if you decide you believe the stories about "big pharma" and autism and whatever other thing you think makes it safer to risk your own child and other children, and you don't vaccinate, fine. Just stay away from the rest of us.
This article sums up a lot.
1. There was a measles outbreak at Disneyland. Two of my friends were there with their young babies, too young to have received the MMR. Their babies could have easily gotten sick. Measles could have killed them because they are so young and vulnerable. This is very serious.
2. I found out from my OB today that there is a mumps outbreak currently occurring right here. Since mumps has not been an issue in so long, the majority of adults don't bother to get a booster and therefore when they get exposed to an unvaccinated, infected child, they contract the disease. You can bet I'll be getting a booster for myself and Joe as soon as little Bebo is born.
This is real life. These are diseases we've forgotten about because we are privileged and lucky to live in a country where vaccinations are readily available to us. Don't let fear mongering trap you and blind you. Don't take the blessing of living in this country for granted. There are children in the third world literally dying for these vaccines that first world parents are turning their noses up at. We've forgotten how devastating and terrible these diseases were. We've forgotten how many children lost their lives to them.
Be wise. Be thoughtful. And if you decide you believe the stories about "big pharma" and autism and whatever other thing you think makes it safer to risk your own child and other children, and you don't vaccinate, fine. Just stay away from the rest of us.
This article sums up a lot.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Full Disclosure - Parenting is Hard
On Saturday, Z decided not to nap. Completely bizarre because he almost always is the king of naps. The last time he tried to skip a nap was months ago at daycare. When I came to pick him up his teacher reported this to me in complete shock (he's a napper I tell you!) and said he was laughing the whole time, doing somersaults down the hall. He was equally cheerful on Saturday but I knew that this could only mean doom. Something was making him feel like he shouldn't sleep. I could hazard a thousand guesses but they would only be guesses because only the Lord knows the mind of a young toddler.
The foreboding came to fruition when Z awoke at 12:30 AM and had zero interest in going back to sleep. I thought back to our wakeful night a month ago that I had written about. Don't get upset. Just stay calm and rock him and he'll settle down. Don't play with him. Don't talk to him. Don't engage. The issue was, he was JUBILANT. He didn't want to sit with me and rock. He wanted to run around his room and if I put him in his crib, he screamed. In other circumstances, in other nights, I would have tried my usual method of stepping outside for a couple minutes at a time to let him know that he was not getting out of that crib, so he may as well stop screaming. But, (1) we had house guests I didn't want to wake up and (2) I worry about waking the neighbors as well. So, I just tried to keep him quiet and soothe him.
But, I couldn't. I just couldn't do it that night. I don't know what it was, maybe the pregnancy hormones or just exhaustion, but I started to completely lose it after a couple hours. I was getting really upset with him for not calming down and even though my logical brain was screaming at me, "Stay calm! STAY CALM! He can sense if you're getting upset!!" I just... couldn't. Then he clumsily flung himself from my arms into his crib, whacked his head on the side, started to scream bloody murder and I lost it. After frantically trying to calm him and muffle the sound of his screaming, I found myself sobbing in the rocking chair because I felt like such an utter failure. I couldn't calm my child. I couldn't get him to go back to sleep, no matter what I tried. I couldn't, nor did I want to, leave him to cry without waking the whole townhouse row and my guests. I couldn't do anything. I felt sure I was missing something and doing something wrong.
It was about that time that an angel in the guise of my husband came in and gently informed his mess of a wife that it was time to let him take over and he sent me to bed. Where I cried some more because now I felt like a failure again because Joe had to come take over for me, and not only that, but when he got there I was obviously a complete mess. Joe did it, too. I could hear his quiet murmuring through the wall as he settled Z down, and after awhile, he crept back into bed, leaving a sleeping toddler in his wake. I was simultaneously proud (of Joe), in awe (of Joe), thankful (for Joe) and ashamed (of myself).
It's embarrassing for me to share this story. Obviously, I don't come across in a great light and don't look like a great mom. In the light of day after a full night's sleep last night (Z epic napped yesterday and then slept all night without a peep. Go figure.) I know that it was just a bad night for me. But, I share it because I want other moms to read this and heave a sigh of relief because they are not alone in their bad days. This is a hard job. It's an immense blessing, but it can be hard.
I fancied myself really good at dealing with nights. These days I can forego sleep pretty easily and I can usually stay really calm in the middle of the night and work out whatever is bothering him and help him out. It was my spot in the parenting roles that I excelled in. Joe and I each have our spots that we do really well with. It was hard for me to fail so badly at my "job" and need my spouse to intervene. (I'm still in awe of how amazingly well he handled that moment. He's truly a keeper.) But, there are days like this. I haven't talked to my mama yet, but I'm pretty sure that's what she's going to tell me. :)
The foreboding came to fruition when Z awoke at 12:30 AM and had zero interest in going back to sleep. I thought back to our wakeful night a month ago that I had written about. Don't get upset. Just stay calm and rock him and he'll settle down. Don't play with him. Don't talk to him. Don't engage. The issue was, he was JUBILANT. He didn't want to sit with me and rock. He wanted to run around his room and if I put him in his crib, he screamed. In other circumstances, in other nights, I would have tried my usual method of stepping outside for a couple minutes at a time to let him know that he was not getting out of that crib, so he may as well stop screaming. But, (1) we had house guests I didn't want to wake up and (2) I worry about waking the neighbors as well. So, I just tried to keep him quiet and soothe him.
But, I couldn't. I just couldn't do it that night. I don't know what it was, maybe the pregnancy hormones or just exhaustion, but I started to completely lose it after a couple hours. I was getting really upset with him for not calming down and even though my logical brain was screaming at me, "Stay calm! STAY CALM! He can sense if you're getting upset!!" I just... couldn't. Then he clumsily flung himself from my arms into his crib, whacked his head on the side, started to scream bloody murder and I lost it. After frantically trying to calm him and muffle the sound of his screaming, I found myself sobbing in the rocking chair because I felt like such an utter failure. I couldn't calm my child. I couldn't get him to go back to sleep, no matter what I tried. I couldn't, nor did I want to, leave him to cry without waking the whole townhouse row and my guests. I couldn't do anything. I felt sure I was missing something and doing something wrong.
It was about that time that an angel in the guise of my husband came in and gently informed his mess of a wife that it was time to let him take over and he sent me to bed. Where I cried some more because now I felt like a failure again because Joe had to come take over for me, and not only that, but when he got there I was obviously a complete mess. Joe did it, too. I could hear his quiet murmuring through the wall as he settled Z down, and after awhile, he crept back into bed, leaving a sleeping toddler in his wake. I was simultaneously proud (of Joe), in awe (of Joe), thankful (for Joe) and ashamed (of myself).
It's embarrassing for me to share this story. Obviously, I don't come across in a great light and don't look like a great mom. In the light of day after a full night's sleep last night (Z epic napped yesterday and then slept all night without a peep. Go figure.) I know that it was just a bad night for me. But, I share it because I want other moms to read this and heave a sigh of relief because they are not alone in their bad days. This is a hard job. It's an immense blessing, but it can be hard.
I fancied myself really good at dealing with nights. These days I can forego sleep pretty easily and I can usually stay really calm in the middle of the night and work out whatever is bothering him and help him out. It was my spot in the parenting roles that I excelled in. Joe and I each have our spots that we do really well with. It was hard for me to fail so badly at my "job" and need my spouse to intervene. (I'm still in awe of how amazingly well he handled that moment. He's truly a keeper.) But, there are days like this. I haven't talked to my mama yet, but I'm pretty sure that's what she's going to tell me. :)
Full Disclosure - Parenting is Amazing
Z has come up with this new game where I get down and hold out my arms and he runs, full tilt, and leaps into them with a huge smile on his face. It fills my heart with complete joy every time and I think to myself, how did I get so lucky? He's such a vibrant child, full of curiosity and excitement, it's a joy to watch him learn and grow. I'm so thankful he is healthy and happy.
I've often wondered if Z's drive to explore the world and solve its mysteries would mean that he was going to fast outgrow his snuggliness. I'm so happy that is not the case. He still loves to sit and rock with us while we read books or sing songs. He's become quite the little singer himself lately, mostly just belting out sing-song nonsense but occasionally trying to sing a song he knows. He's so shy with his words, but he's adding new ones all the time.
He likes to pretend to run away from being tickled, but actually runs straight into the hands of his assailant to provoke more tickling. His laugh is infectious and crazy.
He's started exclaiming, "Wow!!" or "WHOA!" when something really impresses him. It's pretty hilarious.
Z loves having us read his new "I'm a Big Brother" book to him and has managed one nurturing act toward his baby doll so far. He very carefully placed him in Bebo's bassinet a few times, and seemed to understand that was the place for a baby. I know they've been talking to him about becoming a big brother at daycare as well and they have many baby dolls and cribs, as well as the real babies and cribs, there for him to observe and play with.
Bebo is getting bigger and stronger every day. I'm getting a lot more regular movement, which is really nice and reassuring. He seems to especially be interested in trying to kick his brother, which amuses me and makes me wonder what kind of sibling wrestling matches await me in the future. I get more and more excited about the idea of brothers every day. I'm so curious about Bebo's personality. I stare at Z and wonder if they will be alike or completely different, like my own brothers.
My cup is full. My cup overflows.
I've often wondered if Z's drive to explore the world and solve its mysteries would mean that he was going to fast outgrow his snuggliness. I'm so happy that is not the case. He still loves to sit and rock with us while we read books or sing songs. He's become quite the little singer himself lately, mostly just belting out sing-song nonsense but occasionally trying to sing a song he knows. He's so shy with his words, but he's adding new ones all the time.
He likes to pretend to run away from being tickled, but actually runs straight into the hands of his assailant to provoke more tickling. His laugh is infectious and crazy.
He's started exclaiming, "Wow!!" or "WHOA!" when something really impresses him. It's pretty hilarious.
Z loves having us read his new "I'm a Big Brother" book to him and has managed one nurturing act toward his baby doll so far. He very carefully placed him in Bebo's bassinet a few times, and seemed to understand that was the place for a baby. I know they've been talking to him about becoming a big brother at daycare as well and they have many baby dolls and cribs, as well as the real babies and cribs, there for him to observe and play with.
Bebo is getting bigger and stronger every day. I'm getting a lot more regular movement, which is really nice and reassuring. He seems to especially be interested in trying to kick his brother, which amuses me and makes me wonder what kind of sibling wrestling matches await me in the future. I get more and more excited about the idea of brothers every day. I'm so curious about Bebo's personality. I stare at Z and wonder if they will be alike or completely different, like my own brothers.
My cup is full. My cup overflows.
 |
| 21 weeks |
 |
| Happy guy! |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)