A day in the life of a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) of 19 month and 3 month old girls...
Wake up. It's Monday right? Grocery day. And it's the 28th. Free dozen donuts for Heros from Krispy Kreme. Kiss Josh bye cause it's a Squad Truck day and he's working an extra 12 hours from 845am-845pm. He is always early and is departing at exactly 8am. Breakfast time. Luckily for me Addison woke up early and had breakfast with Josh so I can spring right up and get dressed. (I begun showering at night when Loralei was born because it saves time in the morning and there is generally someone here to hold/watch babies. Or I jump in after they both go to bed.) Dash to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal while Lora dozes quietly and contentedly. Addi has already been up for 2 hours so she wants a snack. I toss her in her high chair and while she buckles herself in I grab a Greek yogurt berry granola bar for her. We eat quickly together then I jump up to pack the diaper bag and go to the girls room to get their outfits for the day.
Get Addison cleaned up and down and changed then Loralei and sit down to nurse. Put Loralei in the carseat and Addison in her shoes. Grab the diaper bag, keys, baby and baby hand and head to the garage after throwing Milkbones at the dogs. It's only 915am. Buckle everyone in and head to West Ashley to Krispy Kreme. Buy dozen donuts for my family (myself) and dozen for station guys. Head back to North Charleston. Swing into car wash to wash van and decide to "splurge" paying $8 for the extra bubbles and liquid wax crap cause seriously, who has time to do that? 10 minutes later end up being disappointed because half the time only one side dispersed bubbles. Gr.
Pull into Target and free Addison to run while nursing Loralei. Buckle Loralei into the Ergo baby carrier and Addison into the buggy cover and toss in the diaper bag. Spend the next hour gathering items off the list, nodding at other moms, handing snacks and toys to Addi who is getting tired and restless. Take a shopping "selfie" with the girls. Checkout with 2 buggies full of food, baby things, pet items and a Princess Sofia coloring book. Save $57 by couponing. Somehow manage to get both buggies of food and babies back to the car and loaded in with no harm done. Only 1120am. Book it back to the house and run back and forth unloading all the bags into the house while the babies nap safely in the van in the garage. Let the dogs out and run back to van for Lora. Toss cold stuff into the fridge/freezer, change Lora, let dogs back in and lock door back and go sit in van and nurse while Addi still naps. Almost noon.
Buckle Loralei back in and drive around the mall to pass lights and get easily to Chick-fil-A for grilled chicken and fruit. 1245pm. Head to Station 2. Unload babies, donuts, diaper bag, and lunch with Josh. Change Addi who leaked out of the side of her diaper and eat quickly in case Lora wakes up. Josh runs out on a call and comes back for 15 minutes and then leaves again. I gather back up remaining donuts, diaper bag, carseat with Loralei, and Addison's hand and make the way back to the van to drive home.
At home, unload babies, diaper bag, and donuts then remaining groceries and put away last night's dishes. Change babies. Throw in a load of laundry. Sit down for about an hour and a half on the floor to nurse then play with the girls. Laugh, talk, take pictures, lay on the floor and color. Switch laundry to drier and add another load. About 500pm begin cooking dinner and dealing with inevitable melt downs that come from tired babies. The next hour consists of calming a hungry Addison and cooking while baby-wearing Loralei. Stop cooking to change Addi from head to toe after she splashed in the completely full dog water bowl. Continue cooking.
Get Addi into the high chair again and join her for dinner then switch laundry again. Clean her up and take her down to play for a half hour while I tidy up and start gathering supplies for bath-time. Nurse. Addison in the tub and cleaned and out. Loralei in the tub and cleaned and out. Nurse then story and teeth brushed and in bed with both girls. Josh comes home. Tidy up the house and then this Mama gets an hour to write and shower and then go to bed herself.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Saturday, April 26, 2014
A Boy??
We are a happy family of 4. Josh and I have 2 darling little girls. Very very loud darling little girls. When we were dating we agreed that we wanted 2 kids, close together in age, whatever the genders. My sister and I are only 12 months apart, while my brother and I are 4 years apart so I've seen and experienced both sides of the sibling spacing. Josh and his sister are 4 years apart and he believes he might have gotten beaten up less if they were closer in age. (From what I've heard, it's lucky for Josh's mom that didn't happen or 1 of the 3 would've committed suicide during the teen years I'm sure.)
Anyway, when Addison was 4 months old, I chucked the pills once again and we started not trying to stop number 2. When Addison was 7 months old, we discovered we were expecting once again and straight from the beginning everyone wished us to be blessed with a boy so we could have "1 of each". Even strangers in the grocery store could foresee a male heir in our future. From the second I had shown Josh the test, he claimed to KNOW we were having a girl, "It's another girl! I know it! I'm going to be surrounded by girls!" Well, secretly, I hoped and prayed it was a girl too. For Addison's sake. I loved growing up with my best friend and I wanted her to have a sibling close like that. Someone she could have tea parties and play dress-up with, and later, in the teen years, throw I hate Mom parties, gossip about boys, and share clothes with.
On September 19th, the day before Addison's 1st birthday and party, Josh and I went to the doctor for an ultrasound and as soon as the tech scanned my belly Josh shouted out, "It's a girl! I KNEW it!" "You don't know that," I replied. The tech then confirmed, that yes, our little one was a she. We were thrilled! And we knew her name the instant we saw her sweet face after months of debating girl names. (It's harder to name your kid in round 2.) She would be Loralei Ruth. That was that. We knew we would have 2 girls and be done. I did even ask Josh as we left just to be sure that he didn't want 3 children or a son. He confirmed no, he would be happy with 2 daughters.
Still, though we were elated at the news, some family, friends and even strangers seemed disappointed. We heard comments like: "Oh, you'll change your mind", "Everyone needs a brother", "Don't you want to carry on the family name?", and "Every man wants a son." I'm not the kind of person who normally tucks her tongue in her cheek but I knew that the only opinions and insight about what works for us, is us. So I kindly, well as kindly as I could manage for someone growing more and more pregnant with a girl hearing these negative type comments about how I should be carrying a boy could take, brushed them off.
For the record, not everyone assumed or gave their opinion about us having a son. Many people asked "WHAT are you having?" before "Is it a BOY?" and then would comment on how nice it will be to re-use everything pink and not have to purchase so many clothes. But to those who feel compelled to say, "Maybe next time..." I feel compelled to reply, "Why does there need to be a next time?" It just makes me wonder why people believe that the perfect American family must have 4 people with a child in each gender? Aren't we past the days of the 1950s attitude toward families? I didn't see a girl in Leave it to Beaver. In today's society your family is what, and who, you make it. Blood doesn't always make a strong bond and a best friend can become a sister. I'm pretty sure those with 2 children of the same gender would agree with me that they don't feel anything lacking in their lives. I'd like to add that daughters can do what sons can do. Josh is already looking forward to taking our girls camping and fishing and to play sports and paintball. We don't need a boy/son/brother to be complete.
Plus, we don't want to be outnumbered by our kids. That's just crazy! ;)
Anyway, when Addison was 4 months old, I chucked the pills once again and we started not trying to stop number 2. When Addison was 7 months old, we discovered we were expecting once again and straight from the beginning everyone wished us to be blessed with a boy so we could have "1 of each". Even strangers in the grocery store could foresee a male heir in our future. From the second I had shown Josh the test, he claimed to KNOW we were having a girl, "It's another girl! I know it! I'm going to be surrounded by girls!" Well, secretly, I hoped and prayed it was a girl too. For Addison's sake. I loved growing up with my best friend and I wanted her to have a sibling close like that. Someone she could have tea parties and play dress-up with, and later, in the teen years, throw I hate Mom parties, gossip about boys, and share clothes with.
On September 19th, the day before Addison's 1st birthday and party, Josh and I went to the doctor for an ultrasound and as soon as the tech scanned my belly Josh shouted out, "It's a girl! I KNEW it!" "You don't know that," I replied. The tech then confirmed, that yes, our little one was a she. We were thrilled! And we knew her name the instant we saw her sweet face after months of debating girl names. (It's harder to name your kid in round 2.) She would be Loralei Ruth. That was that. We knew we would have 2 girls and be done. I did even ask Josh as we left just to be sure that he didn't want 3 children or a son. He confirmed no, he would be happy with 2 daughters.
Still, though we were elated at the news, some family, friends and even strangers seemed disappointed. We heard comments like: "Oh, you'll change your mind", "Everyone needs a brother", "Don't you want to carry on the family name?", and "Every man wants a son." I'm not the kind of person who normally tucks her tongue in her cheek but I knew that the only opinions and insight about what works for us, is us. So I kindly, well as kindly as I could manage for someone growing more and more pregnant with a girl hearing these negative type comments about how I should be carrying a boy could take, brushed them off.
For the record, not everyone assumed or gave their opinion about us having a son. Many people asked "WHAT are you having?" before "Is it a BOY?" and then would comment on how nice it will be to re-use everything pink and not have to purchase so many clothes. But to those who feel compelled to say, "Maybe next time..." I feel compelled to reply, "Why does there need to be a next time?" It just makes me wonder why people believe that the perfect American family must have 4 people with a child in each gender? Aren't we past the days of the 1950s attitude toward families? I didn't see a girl in Leave it to Beaver. In today's society your family is what, and who, you make it. Blood doesn't always make a strong bond and a best friend can become a sister. I'm pretty sure those with 2 children of the same gender would agree with me that they don't feel anything lacking in their lives. I'd like to add that daughters can do what sons can do. Josh is already looking forward to taking our girls camping and fishing and to play sports and paintball. We don't need a boy/son/brother to be complete.
Plus, we don't want to be outnumbered by our kids. That's just crazy! ;)
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Dirty Laundry
We all have things we don't want to talk about. Secrets, the past, something we did, something done to us. In our house the unspoken is the element of danger. We don't need to talk about it because it exists so much in our everyday lives that sometimes it seems to be an additional family member. Danger Lookout Graham, it'd make a cool name, no? Josh was at another meth lab tonight. His station is one of the hazmat stations in North Charleston which to me means that he'll be put in more precarious situations more often. Gas leaks, bomb threats, mysterious packages, meth labs...he is one of the guys making sure the air is breathable, clearing the scene, assisting the cops in collection/clean-up. I'm used to him coming straight home to hop in the shower, leaving me to wash his uniform immediately. "I don't want the girls touching it." Chemicals, "fluids" of a various nature, and blood are all pretty common for me to clean out. My stomach does a little flip every time I have to Shout out blood that isn't his. I'm so glad that it isn't his, and yet also sad/disgusted that it's someone else's. I mean, how many times have you been covered in some random person's blood? It's a very personal thing, to know you were that close to someone in what had to be an intense situation.
I'm here to tell you though, there is nothing like cleaning blood out of yours and your husband's shirts knowing it's your own baby's. Literally your own flesh and blood. Monday evening before dinner we went upstairs to my mom's room to hang some curtains for her as a surprise. She happened to arrive home during the process and once we were done we sat up on her couch and bed chatting and holding babies while Josh moved the TV box for her. I let go of a squirmy Addison who wanted to go climb on her bed and continued talking, while sitting on a bench at the foot of the bed. Addison clabbered up into the pillows and stood, bouncing herself to the center of the bed in a fit of giggles. I absentmindedly told her to stop jumping, it was dangerous and asked Mom how the cake went over (see Happy Birthday Cake - Daisy). I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Addi fling out her arms and dive from the pillows to the foot of the bed. I threw out my own arm and connected with some part of her middle but her forehead still slammed into the ironwork footboard. I had her snatched up and in my arms before she drew a breath to scream and there was already blood running down her face.
By then Mom and Loralei and Josh had run over. The next part is a little blurry to me as I stood there holding her but we ended up in Mom's bathroom with a towel pressed to Addison's head as she cried and tried to push Josh's arms away. "She needs to go to the hospital," Mom said so we all ran down the stairs with babies and into the kitchen where Ryan met us having heard the commotion and mention of an ER. In the next 10 minutes everyone acted. Ryan ran to the garage for a Popsicle to help the tears, I grabbed snacks and a milk cup for the diaper bag since no one had eaten yet, Josh called several ER's to establish which would be the best for pediatric care and Mom held Loralei and talked to Addi to keep her calm.
Josh, Addison and I jumped in the car and drove as quickly and safely as we could to Nason Medical. I filled out paperwork and then we were admitted to wait to see a doctor. The wait seemed forever and Josh and I did what we could to distract our baby girl and keep her happy.
Finally the doctor breezed in and before he even touched her, Addison began to cry again. Josh held her down as she was evaluated and it was decided that glue would be a better alternative to stitches for her age and the scarring. He left for a few minutes and in that moment Josh and I looked at each other and felt a sad connection. Our first baby and her first real accident. It was horribly clarifying that we can't protect her from everything. The doctor then returned with a nurse and a sheet as Addigator's crocodile tears started up again. "We're gonna make her a burrito. I need someone to help hold her head." "That's all you Josh," I said. I can't hold my baby down for pain. When she cries at shots, I tear up too.
Addison was wailing when Josh set her down and started really screaming and thrashing as the nurse wrapped her arms up in that sheet. Nurse, doctor and Josh all laid her back on the bed and doctor prepared to glue her cut. By this point, it's a miracle people weren't streaming in to see the tiny person with the big voice. When my sister spit her chin open and needed stitches, it took 8 nurses and doctors to hold her down and the doctor ended up stitching them backwards and had to REMOVE THEM only to do it again. Let me tell you what Aunt Holly, Addison would've made you proud. She fought, she yelled, she wiggled, and I'm sure if it needed to be another minute she would've broken out.
When it was all over and my baby was unwrapped she wanted nothing but her Mama and vice-gripped my neck. We gathered up ourselves and our things to check-out throwing away the white hand-towel of my mother's that was now colorful with purple Popsicle juice and my baby's bright-red blood. I asked Josh if it was any different having a random person's blood on you compared to your baby's, because it felt different to me as I sprayed Shout on his shirt that night...
I'm here to tell you though, there is nothing like cleaning blood out of yours and your husband's shirts knowing it's your own baby's. Literally your own flesh and blood. Monday evening before dinner we went upstairs to my mom's room to hang some curtains for her as a surprise. She happened to arrive home during the process and once we were done we sat up on her couch and bed chatting and holding babies while Josh moved the TV box for her. I let go of a squirmy Addison who wanted to go climb on her bed and continued talking, while sitting on a bench at the foot of the bed. Addison clabbered up into the pillows and stood, bouncing herself to the center of the bed in a fit of giggles. I absentmindedly told her to stop jumping, it was dangerous and asked Mom how the cake went over (see Happy Birthday Cake - Daisy). I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Addi fling out her arms and dive from the pillows to the foot of the bed. I threw out my own arm and connected with some part of her middle but her forehead still slammed into the ironwork footboard. I had her snatched up and in my arms before she drew a breath to scream and there was already blood running down her face.
By then Mom and Loralei and Josh had run over. The next part is a little blurry to me as I stood there holding her but we ended up in Mom's bathroom with a towel pressed to Addison's head as she cried and tried to push Josh's arms away. "She needs to go to the hospital," Mom said so we all ran down the stairs with babies and into the kitchen where Ryan met us having heard the commotion and mention of an ER. In the next 10 minutes everyone acted. Ryan ran to the garage for a Popsicle to help the tears, I grabbed snacks and a milk cup for the diaper bag since no one had eaten yet, Josh called several ER's to establish which would be the best for pediatric care and Mom held Loralei and talked to Addi to keep her calm.
Josh, Addison and I jumped in the car and drove as quickly and safely as we could to Nason Medical. I filled out paperwork and then we were admitted to wait to see a doctor. The wait seemed forever and Josh and I did what we could to distract our baby girl and keep her happy.
Finally the doctor breezed in and before he even touched her, Addison began to cry again. Josh held her down as she was evaluated and it was decided that glue would be a better alternative to stitches for her age and the scarring. He left for a few minutes and in that moment Josh and I looked at each other and felt a sad connection. Our first baby and her first real accident. It was horribly clarifying that we can't protect her from everything. The doctor then returned with a nurse and a sheet as Addigator's crocodile tears started up again. "We're gonna make her a burrito. I need someone to help hold her head." "That's all you Josh," I said. I can't hold my baby down for pain. When she cries at shots, I tear up too.
Addison was wailing when Josh set her down and started really screaming and thrashing as the nurse wrapped her arms up in that sheet. Nurse, doctor and Josh all laid her back on the bed and doctor prepared to glue her cut. By this point, it's a miracle people weren't streaming in to see the tiny person with the big voice. When my sister spit her chin open and needed stitches, it took 8 nurses and doctors to hold her down and the doctor ended up stitching them backwards and had to REMOVE THEM only to do it again. Let me tell you what Aunt Holly, Addison would've made you proud. She fought, she yelled, she wiggled, and I'm sure if it needed to be another minute she would've broken out.
When it was all over and my baby was unwrapped she wanted nothing but her Mama and vice-gripped my neck. We gathered up ourselves and our things to check-out throwing away the white hand-towel of my mother's that was now colorful with purple Popsicle juice and my baby's bright-red blood. I asked Josh if it was any different having a random person's blood on you compared to your baby's, because it felt different to me as I sprayed Shout on his shirt that night...
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Fire Family: A Post About The Fire Wife
Being a firefighter's wife takes a certain kind of person. Honestly, I didn't know I was that kind of person when Josh and I started dating 7 years ago. My family of origination have always called me dramatic, eccentric, loud, talkative...you get the idea. And I certainly am all of those things. I'm also pushy, stubborn, opinionated, determined and occasionally selfish. But as Josh's wife, as a firefighter's wife, I also have to have the ability to stretch myself to be whatever he and our family needs. And being that flexible, though it isn't always easy (and sometimes I wonder if it's possible) makes our little family tick.
I have to listen, even to the things that aren't said. I have to be able to read between the lines when he says "11 calls yesterday, 3 last night". That translates to me needing to handle the babies on my own for at least part of the day so he can rest and maybe nap. 3 nighttime calls means he had to get up and lose valuable sleep, even if they end up doing nothing on a call. Day or night, firefighter's still have to jump on the truck/engine, gear up on scene and prepare to act, doing whatever is necessary, though sometimes that means just standing by. Last shift they were at a meth lab from 3am to 830am. It was the 3rd meth lab Josh has been in these last 2 weeks.
That brings me to the emotional side of things. Another thing my family of origination says I am. And I am a crier so I'm going to do this quickly. My husband, the father of my children, my support system, my better half, puts his life on the line every time he leaves his "women" to go on-shift. There is no telling what the day will bring him to in this busy city and, though I don't like to think about it, the possibility of him not returning. He would say, like he always does, "Death is a part of life" but I am just not willing to accept that part for at least another 60 years.
On the other side of emotional, I have to be willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk about a difficult call, which isn't often, so when Josh does talk, it's important. A few months before Loralei was born he went on a call where a baby had been shot. Addi was 11 months old and the baby was about 6 months I believe. I think it was the first call that really hit home for Josh since having Addison. They arrived on scene to this little bleeding baby and helped get her to the hospital and Josh wasn't ever able to find out if she was ok or not. The hospital wouldn't release her stats or even give her a lovey he had purchased for her to snuggle with like Addison loves hers. And just a few days ago he had to respond to a call in our neighborhood and stopped in afterwards really quick to say hi. A kind 70 year-old man, who sat out front in his chair every evening watching his grandkids play, who waved to neighbors as they drove by, passed away in his sleep and the family didn't know he was dead. Josh had to tell them.
Though it's difficult for me to understand how he can see this type of thing so often, encounter this sadness more than most of us have to and be ok, he just does. It's part of the job. It amazes me and I can see the true joy he has in being around our family because of it. And knowing that life really is fleeting, seeing that and knowing that we really don't know how much time we have, it makes me a kinder person. It doesn't matter if both the girls were crying all day while he was at the station and I have been running non-stop from 5am to 1130pm alone, I still tell our girls I love them 100 times a day and kiss them and hold them as much as they allow. Josh and I tell each other good night every night. No matter how late I have to wait up for the call. You never know what could happen.
Speaking of being alone while my fireman does his thing, loneliness is a big part of being a firefighter's wife. I married Josh knowing that I would miss about 1/3 of his life. Every third night, I sleep alone. If you think that a joy, you have no idea the good a nighttime snuggle does for a relationship. Plus it means I have to be used to sleeping with someone and without someone. (I.E. he's a cover-hog and I freeze or I am cocooned and strangled.) 1/3 of the everyday family dinners, holidays, our marriage, the girls' lives and homework/plays/activities he will miss out on. 1/3 of my life I will basically be a single mother, taking care of the girls, bringing them where-ever, preparing meals, giving baths, all by myself. It's not an easy thing to know and walk into. Luckily for me, I have his family and mine close by for anything from emergencies to bringing food to holding a baby so I can shower.
We have fire family too. Need a carpenter? A plumber? Someone to help fix your car? Chances are there is a firefighter with a second job in the profession who can lend a hand, or advice. I often bake cakes for the station in thanks and just because. If you can't count on family, who can you count on? So in the long way around I guess I'm saying the fire service, though it is tough on a family, on a person, has improved us and ours. I never thought I could be as strong a woman as I have become, but I am. I have to be. I'm a firefighter's wife.
I have to listen, even to the things that aren't said. I have to be able to read between the lines when he says "11 calls yesterday, 3 last night". That translates to me needing to handle the babies on my own for at least part of the day so he can rest and maybe nap. 3 nighttime calls means he had to get up and lose valuable sleep, even if they end up doing nothing on a call. Day or night, firefighter's still have to jump on the truck/engine, gear up on scene and prepare to act, doing whatever is necessary, though sometimes that means just standing by. Last shift they were at a meth lab from 3am to 830am. It was the 3rd meth lab Josh has been in these last 2 weeks.
That brings me to the emotional side of things. Another thing my family of origination says I am. And I am a crier so I'm going to do this quickly. My husband, the father of my children, my support system, my better half, puts his life on the line every time he leaves his "women" to go on-shift. There is no telling what the day will bring him to in this busy city and, though I don't like to think about it, the possibility of him not returning. He would say, like he always does, "Death is a part of life" but I am just not willing to accept that part for at least another 60 years.
On the other side of emotional, I have to be willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk about a difficult call, which isn't often, so when Josh does talk, it's important. A few months before Loralei was born he went on a call where a baby had been shot. Addi was 11 months old and the baby was about 6 months I believe. I think it was the first call that really hit home for Josh since having Addison. They arrived on scene to this little bleeding baby and helped get her to the hospital and Josh wasn't ever able to find out if she was ok or not. The hospital wouldn't release her stats or even give her a lovey he had purchased for her to snuggle with like Addison loves hers. And just a few days ago he had to respond to a call in our neighborhood and stopped in afterwards really quick to say hi. A kind 70 year-old man, who sat out front in his chair every evening watching his grandkids play, who waved to neighbors as they drove by, passed away in his sleep and the family didn't know he was dead. Josh had to tell them.
Though it's difficult for me to understand how he can see this type of thing so often, encounter this sadness more than most of us have to and be ok, he just does. It's part of the job. It amazes me and I can see the true joy he has in being around our family because of it. And knowing that life really is fleeting, seeing that and knowing that we really don't know how much time we have, it makes me a kinder person. It doesn't matter if both the girls were crying all day while he was at the station and I have been running non-stop from 5am to 1130pm alone, I still tell our girls I love them 100 times a day and kiss them and hold them as much as they allow. Josh and I tell each other good night every night. No matter how late I have to wait up for the call. You never know what could happen.
Speaking of being alone while my fireman does his thing, loneliness is a big part of being a firefighter's wife. I married Josh knowing that I would miss about 1/3 of his life. Every third night, I sleep alone. If you think that a joy, you have no idea the good a nighttime snuggle does for a relationship. Plus it means I have to be used to sleeping with someone and without someone. (I.E. he's a cover-hog and I freeze or I am cocooned and strangled.) 1/3 of the everyday family dinners, holidays, our marriage, the girls' lives and homework/plays/activities he will miss out on. 1/3 of my life I will basically be a single mother, taking care of the girls, bringing them where-ever, preparing meals, giving baths, all by myself. It's not an easy thing to know and walk into. Luckily for me, I have his family and mine close by for anything from emergencies to bringing food to holding a baby so I can shower.
We have fire family too. Need a carpenter? A plumber? Someone to help fix your car? Chances are there is a firefighter with a second job in the profession who can lend a hand, or advice. I often bake cakes for the station in thanks and just because. If you can't count on family, who can you count on? So in the long way around I guess I'm saying the fire service, though it is tough on a family, on a person, has improved us and ours. I never thought I could be as strong a woman as I have become, but I am. I have to be. I'm a firefighter's wife.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Locked Up #Toddlerness
Anyone who has ever been around young children knows the boundless energy they seem to possess. Did this kid chug some coffee and a RedBull before I got out of bed or what?? As a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) of two babies under two, I am constantly running from one mess to another all day while listening to crying, whining, giggling, baby-chatter, or worse, silence. Since we also have seven, yes you read right, seven, animals in our house, I feel compelled to vacuum every day and dust as much as possible so we don't drown in pet hair and dust. Most of the time I try to do my cleaning in the morning because everyone seems to have the most pep and happiness after breakfast before lunch. Well last Thursday, all of that was put to a screeching halt when my 18 month old daughter locked herself in her room...
I was actually in there with her beforehand, putting away laundry and feeling out how a nap would go down since a certain toddler was a little extra cranky that morning. She wasn't having any of it so I left her in her room and started down the hall when I heard her bedroom door click. Crap I thought, I left the pool noodle off. I went back to put it on so she couldn't smash her fingers but the door knob wouldn't turn. "No! Addison? Are you in there?" I quick checked her bathroom but it was empty. "Baby? Open the door please." The doorknob jiggled and she screamed. "Crap crap CRAP! I'm gonna get you out. Don't worry." I darted down the hall for the baby monitor thankful she was in her room and I could at least see her on the camera. Plus I know it's the safest place she could be stuck. 100% baby-proof.
Seeing that she was at the door playing with the lock, I ran back encouraging her to twist it the other way. Here's news folks, she can only turn it right. Her little hands haven't perfected the left-turn yet. "I'll be right back ok? Mommy has to go into the garage real fast for a tool. I'll be right back," I assured her. I took two steps from the door and heard the most gut-wrenching cry. My baby was locked up and I was running away from her. I know it breaking her heart in the moment. "I'm coming back Addison. I have to get you out." I bolted through her cries.
In the garage, my husband might have a system but I don't know what the heck it is. To me, it looks like mess mess mess and piles of tools. I almost tripped over the extra stuff in there because we've just moved into our new home a few months ago and haven't figured where everything goes so parts of the garage have become a gathering place for these random items. Anyway, I ran up to his massive red toolbox and began searching for a screwdriver small enough to fit into the tiny hole that was also a flathead because we have the turn locks. No luck. Hearing Addison crying out for me, I grabbed his power drill and bolted.
"I'm here honey, don't worry. Back up Addi. Mommy is coming in. Go get your lovey and paci off the bed." As she scrambled off I began to remove the screws on the knob and then took the outside handle off. I tried turning the lock part to unlock it but it wouldn't move. So I started pushing it through the center of the handle. All this time Addison was crying and freaking out. From her point of view the handle was shaking and moving on its own and Mommy wasn't by her side. "I'm trying to get you out baby. It's ok. Mommy is right here." I slammed the bottom of the drill into the handle hoping it would pop it out. Nope. And I terrified Addison. By this time, it had been 15 minutes and obviously I couldn't keep her entertained and calm and break in. So I called her Daddy. "Hi, don't panic because we are trying not to panic though we are panicking a little...Addi is locked in her room by herself...No, I'm not in there...Yes I tried to get her out!...Don't worry, I'll keep her calm. Just come help...Love you too, bye."
"Addison, Daddy is coming home! And look! Here's your kitty!" Mad Max, our youngest cat who is the same age as Addi, comes rounding the corner all chill and curious. I told her to stick her hand under the door and the second she did, Max did as I assumed and pounced. She giggled and I know felt better immediately. I laid on my back and looked under the door as she played with Max, holding her lovey with her paci in her mouth. Any time she started to get fussy, I reminded her Daddy was coming and to play with Max or hold my hand.
About another 20 minutes later Daddy bust in the front door and took two large steps to Addison's room where I was still laying on the floor. "Dada!" Addi yelled. "Yes, it's Daddy. Back up honey," he instructed. One large bang and a little twist and the doorknob shot through the hole and the door swung free. He checked her all over and then helped me up off the floor. Did I mention that I had Loralei in the Moby the whole time?? That's right, I was baby-wearing while running, squatting, bending over and laying on the floor. Loralei slept through it all.
After all that we didn't have the heart to make dinner so frozen pizza it was. And vacuuming waited til the next day.
I was actually in there with her beforehand, putting away laundry and feeling out how a nap would go down since a certain toddler was a little extra cranky that morning. She wasn't having any of it so I left her in her room and started down the hall when I heard her bedroom door click. Crap I thought, I left the pool noodle off. I went back to put it on so she couldn't smash her fingers but the door knob wouldn't turn. "No! Addison? Are you in there?" I quick checked her bathroom but it was empty. "Baby? Open the door please." The doorknob jiggled and she screamed. "Crap crap CRAP! I'm gonna get you out. Don't worry." I darted down the hall for the baby monitor thankful she was in her room and I could at least see her on the camera. Plus I know it's the safest place she could be stuck. 100% baby-proof.
Seeing that she was at the door playing with the lock, I ran back encouraging her to twist it the other way. Here's news folks, she can only turn it right. Her little hands haven't perfected the left-turn yet. "I'll be right back ok? Mommy has to go into the garage real fast for a tool. I'll be right back," I assured her. I took two steps from the door and heard the most gut-wrenching cry. My baby was locked up and I was running away from her. I know it breaking her heart in the moment. "I'm coming back Addison. I have to get you out." I bolted through her cries.
In the garage, my husband might have a system but I don't know what the heck it is. To me, it looks like mess mess mess and piles of tools. I almost tripped over the extra stuff in there because we've just moved into our new home a few months ago and haven't figured where everything goes so parts of the garage have become a gathering place for these random items. Anyway, I ran up to his massive red toolbox and began searching for a screwdriver small enough to fit into the tiny hole that was also a flathead because we have the turn locks. No luck. Hearing Addison crying out for me, I grabbed his power drill and bolted.
"I'm here honey, don't worry. Back up Addi. Mommy is coming in. Go get your lovey and paci off the bed." As she scrambled off I began to remove the screws on the knob and then took the outside handle off. I tried turning the lock part to unlock it but it wouldn't move. So I started pushing it through the center of the handle. All this time Addison was crying and freaking out. From her point of view the handle was shaking and moving on its own and Mommy wasn't by her side. "I'm trying to get you out baby. It's ok. Mommy is right here." I slammed the bottom of the drill into the handle hoping it would pop it out. Nope. And I terrified Addison. By this time, it had been 15 minutes and obviously I couldn't keep her entertained and calm and break in. So I called her Daddy. "Hi, don't panic because we are trying not to panic though we are panicking a little...Addi is locked in her room by herself...No, I'm not in there...Yes I tried to get her out!...Don't worry, I'll keep her calm. Just come help...Love you too, bye."
"Addison, Daddy is coming home! And look! Here's your kitty!" Mad Max, our youngest cat who is the same age as Addi, comes rounding the corner all chill and curious. I told her to stick her hand under the door and the second she did, Max did as I assumed and pounced. She giggled and I know felt better immediately. I laid on my back and looked under the door as she played with Max, holding her lovey with her paci in her mouth. Any time she started to get fussy, I reminded her Daddy was coming and to play with Max or hold my hand.
About another 20 minutes later Daddy bust in the front door and took two large steps to Addison's room where I was still laying on the floor. "Dada!" Addi yelled. "Yes, it's Daddy. Back up honey," he instructed. One large bang and a little twist and the doorknob shot through the hole and the door swung free. He checked her all over and then helped me up off the floor. Did I mention that I had Loralei in the Moby the whole time?? That's right, I was baby-wearing while running, squatting, bending over and laying on the floor. Loralei slept through it all.
After all that we didn't have the heart to make dinner so frozen pizza it was. And vacuuming waited til the next day.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Gains and Losses
Being a mom you lose pieces of yourself. Things like memory, for example. I used to be able to remember an entire grocery list and all of the coordinating coupons and execute the trip alone in no more than an hour. My life today, with two baby girls, ages 2 months and 18 months, I can't even fathom going with-out my husband, the 2 Ergo's and infant insert, the shopping cart cover just in case, the fully stocked diaper bag, my wallet, phone, and van keys...what am I forgetting? Oh! The list and coupons! See what I mean?
I've also given up my shame and privacy. The two go hand-in-hand, trust me. I do not sleep, eat, shower or pee alone. I don't check the mail alone, or vacuum alone, or do the laundry alone, or clean the cat box alone, or... You get the idea. I aim to shave my legs every three days max and when I say that I mean most of my legs because, chances are, halfway through the first leg one of the babies will start getting fussy and I will have to speedy shave with my old razor hoping to scrape at least majority of the hair off while trying not to knock the toddler on the shower floor in the head as she wipes the shaving cream off of me and onto her belly.
Speaking of shaving, I have had to give up any sense of personal hygeine or style. Deodorant? Nope, forgot that today. (See above.) I have no time to sit and paint my toes, leisurely pick out an outfit, style my hair in anything besides a ponytail, slather on any make up besides eyeliner and eyeshadow. The most I can do besides shower is to hastily smack some lotion on afterwards. I don't wear much jewelry now unless I stop to think about putting some on before running errands.
Not so much losing a piece of myself, but still a big loss for me, is hot food. Other mothers, especially breastfeeders with more than one offspring, will be able to relate. I feel like lunch time everyday, when it's just the girls and me, is the hardest. I go through the same motions every mealtiime and everyone enjoys their food except me.
1 Get toddler into the highchair
2 Get toddler food
3 Go back and get the right kid-sized utencil
4 Shoo dogs away
5 Pick up fork and hand back to toddler
6 Pick-up/un-Moby crying baby
7 Latch extremely unhappy infant to boob
8 Enjoy one quiet, still moment with happy girls
9 Get toddler more food of different variety
10 Attempt to make a plate one-handed for myself
11 Sit at table and take approximately one large bite
12 Get up to get toddler a cup
13 Sit and take another bite
14 Baby un-latches and spits up everywhere
15 Run to change clothes
16 Burp baby
17 Toddler finished and wants down to play...
You get the idea. I end up snacking all day feeling famished because lunch is never 100% satisfying.
You can see where I'm going with this right? You give up a lot of things being a mother, material and personal. I have had to trade cars with my husband and give up my beloved SUV for a minivan (which isn't too bad, it's actually quite handy, but that's an article for another day), stop listening to my wide-variety of music genres because I don't want the girls to hear any cussing or crude lyrics, and speaking of music I don't listen to it very loud anymore because I don't want to hurt their tiny ears. And I miss my writing. A lot. Writing was a HUGE part of myself that I just don't have time for anymore. Yes, right now sleeping takes priority over blogging, poetry, stories, whatever...
But you know what I've gained in all those losses?? What makes me not miss the old, maybe prettier, me?? My kisses have healing powers. My story-telling could rival the Irish. I get to feel tiny arms hug me just becuase they feel like grabbing on and open-mouthed baby kisses on my cheek. I get to hear her giggle just because the dog cocked his head to the side and his tongue rolled out. I get to see her excitement when Daddy comes home from the station and the adorable toddler toe-running. I get to rock a sleeping baby while the rest of the house is still and dark. A mess doesn't bother me anymore because it means they are learning about something. I get to share a thousand first moments and memories. I get to hear them laugh, out loud and in sleep.
So I'll roll out of bed before I'm awake. Even on the weekends. I'll give up coffee because it upsets the baby's tummy. I'll learn to live with hairy legs and a ponytail. I will listen to the Disney CD and I'll sing along to make them smile. I'll put a day of playing and learning before cleaning the sink of dishes. I know the next 20 years will go by fast. I know someday there will be no messes and no noise. I am never alone and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am two little somebodies whole worlds. They are mine.
I've also given up my shame and privacy. The two go hand-in-hand, trust me. I do not sleep, eat, shower or pee alone. I don't check the mail alone, or vacuum alone, or do the laundry alone, or clean the cat box alone, or... You get the idea. I aim to shave my legs every three days max and when I say that I mean most of my legs because, chances are, halfway through the first leg one of the babies will start getting fussy and I will have to speedy shave with my old razor hoping to scrape at least majority of the hair off while trying not to knock the toddler on the shower floor in the head as she wipes the shaving cream off of me and onto her belly.
Speaking of shaving, I have had to give up any sense of personal hygeine or style. Deodorant? Nope, forgot that today. (See above.) I have no time to sit and paint my toes, leisurely pick out an outfit, style my hair in anything besides a ponytail, slather on any make up besides eyeliner and eyeshadow. The most I can do besides shower is to hastily smack some lotion on afterwards. I don't wear much jewelry now unless I stop to think about putting some on before running errands.
Not so much losing a piece of myself, but still a big loss for me, is hot food. Other mothers, especially breastfeeders with more than one offspring, will be able to relate. I feel like lunch time everyday, when it's just the girls and me, is the hardest. I go through the same motions every mealtiime and everyone enjoys their food except me.
1 Get toddler into the highchair
2 Get toddler food
3 Go back and get the right kid-sized utencil
4 Shoo dogs away
5 Pick up fork and hand back to toddler
6 Pick-up/un-Moby crying baby
7 Latch extremely unhappy infant to boob
8 Enjoy one quiet, still moment with happy girls
9 Get toddler more food of different variety
10 Attempt to make a plate one-handed for myself
11 Sit at table and take approximately one large bite
12 Get up to get toddler a cup
13 Sit and take another bite
14 Baby un-latches and spits up everywhere
15 Run to change clothes
16 Burp baby
17 Toddler finished and wants down to play...
You get the idea. I end up snacking all day feeling famished because lunch is never 100% satisfying.
You can see where I'm going with this right? You give up a lot of things being a mother, material and personal. I have had to trade cars with my husband and give up my beloved SUV for a minivan (which isn't too bad, it's actually quite handy, but that's an article for another day), stop listening to my wide-variety of music genres because I don't want the girls to hear any cussing or crude lyrics, and speaking of music I don't listen to it very loud anymore because I don't want to hurt their tiny ears. And I miss my writing. A lot. Writing was a HUGE part of myself that I just don't have time for anymore. Yes, right now sleeping takes priority over blogging, poetry, stories, whatever...
But you know what I've gained in all those losses?? What makes me not miss the old, maybe prettier, me?? My kisses have healing powers. My story-telling could rival the Irish. I get to feel tiny arms hug me just becuase they feel like grabbing on and open-mouthed baby kisses on my cheek. I get to hear her giggle just because the dog cocked his head to the side and his tongue rolled out. I get to see her excitement when Daddy comes home from the station and the adorable toddler toe-running. I get to rock a sleeping baby while the rest of the house is still and dark. A mess doesn't bother me anymore because it means they are learning about something. I get to share a thousand first moments and memories. I get to hear them laugh, out loud and in sleep.
So I'll roll out of bed before I'm awake. Even on the weekends. I'll give up coffee because it upsets the baby's tummy. I'll learn to live with hairy legs and a ponytail. I will listen to the Disney CD and I'll sing along to make them smile. I'll put a day of playing and learning before cleaning the sink of dishes. I know the next 20 years will go by fast. I know someday there will be no messes and no noise. I am never alone and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am two little somebodies whole worlds. They are mine.
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