Monday, January 18, 2016

Sick Days? Ha!

Happy MLK Jr. day! While I am all about the wonderful teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., it also happens to mean the doctor's office is closed today. On a day I woke up with a fever of 102.6 and mastitis in my left breast. Fabulous. Plus as a stay at home mom, it's not like I can tell Noah and Elias that they are on their own while I take the day off to lie down and hydrate, and pray I don't get worse before I can get to a doctor.

And so here I am, a sweaty, sore mess, trying not to clean my house that desperately needs to be cleaned (I vacuumed because I'm either really stupid or have OCD), and doing my best to care for my three year old and three month old. Praise the lord that they are being good boys today! (Also, Netflix and Mighty Machines are really helping me out with Noah.)

It's noon and so far, so good. Honestly, I'd rather be the one sick than having to worry about one of my Littles being sick, whether it is my small humans or my nearly eight year old rabbit. I can handle my own illness much better than I can handle anxiety!

Do you want to know what is really odd? The sense of accomplishment I am getting from parenting while feeling this sick. I really do feel kind of like a superhero. A really weak, hot and sweaty, superhero. *high five*

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

My First Baby

My first baby is fast becoming a big boy, his third birthday is this coming Saturday. As exciting as it is to see him grow and learn and start to become his own person, as his momie, I have to admit that it hurts my heart just a little bit too. He's still little, but he is definitely no longer a baby. With each birthday that passes, I feel a little bit wistful, even though I am so proud of the boy he has become, and the boisterous way with which he lives each day to the fullest.

I was already feeling weepy and sentimental when I stumbled upon this poem by an unknown author, and now I am a total wreck:

"My Son"

Hold him a little longer,
Rock him a little more.
Tell him another story
(You've only told him four).
Let him sleep on your shoulder,
Rejoice in his happy smile.
He is only two and a half
For such a little while.
 Author: Unknown

The last three years went by in the blink of an eye. We learned so much together, I learned how to be a mother, and he learned so much more. I got to watch him smile, laugh, roll over, crawl and walk, over just a few months. Now he's a big boy, a big brother, who talks non stop, builds things, plays with his trains and train tracks, plays ball, and sings all the time. He's my grocery helper and laundry helper; my mess maker and my noise creator. The other day while waiting in the check out line at the grocery store, he told me, "I'll be right back mumum, I'm just gonna go get some wine for you". He makes me and everyone around him laugh every day! He also infuriates me every day, but I think that might just be because we are family. 
I will let myself cry a little bit this afternoon for my baby that is a baby no more, hold him a little longer, and relish the fact that he still fits nicely in my lap as I read him his favourite books. Three is fast approaching.

Friday, January 8, 2016

An Almost Threenager

Nobody can make my blood boil like my toddler. He's my beautiful, incredibly bright, energetic little boy, but he drives me crazy 50% of the time. The answer to everything now is "no", he very obviously wants to exert his will and show us that he is a person with choices, but my patience tank is just about empty. The thing is, patience is the key to feeling like you are somewhat of a good parent, so now you know where my morale is at the moment.

I have been feeling like everything is a struggle, everything is a battle of wills and I'm exhausted by it. If he doesn't respond to reasoning, he only backs down after I've already lost my temper. Who on earth wants to lose their temper 75 times a day? Not I, and certainly not with one of the loves of my life.

We will get past this obstinate behaviour (I hope), and will one day look back on these years as the sweet and adorable ones of childhood, but right now I feel like I'm barely surviving it. Add a new baby, sleep deprivation, and exhaustion into the mix and you really have to marvel at how strong parents are capable of being.

Years from now, if Noah should ever decide to read my blog, I absolutely expect a heartfelt thank you for not abandoning him at Target after a giant public tantrum. Oh and by the way, THANK YOU, MOMMY. I know how crazy I drove you, and Noah is giving you your revenge.

It's not all fighting and hardship here, though. He is also chatting away and playing make believe like nobody's business; he loves reading and counting and building things; and he is really sweet to his baby brother. My Noah is a good kid, just a strong willed one. Takes one to know one, I guess. Have a great weekend!

Tuesday, January 5, 2016


I think that I can say with total conviction, that last night was the toughest night of being a mommy to two babies I have experienced so far.

Just as I had gotten the meatloaf in the oven, and just as I thought I would get to have one glorious hour of sitting down and possibly relaxing, my baby started to fuss. Naturally, this was also the exact moment my toddler absolutely needed me to build a train track bridge and have 3 books read to him. I tried my best to meet everyone's needs/appease both of my forces of nature, but it seemed like the baby's fussiness was ramping up. 

Was it ever ramping up. The next two hours were spent jiggling, rocking, burping, nursing, singing to, belly massaging, and bicycle-legging my littlelest boy. None of this mattered, he still screamed like a banshee with a microphone.

Meanwhile, sweet Noah was also trying to comfort his brother and yet at the same time still needed me to read him books and get him milk. At this point, I basically had to choose whose needs were most important and decided that Elias' uncharacteristic screaming warranted my full attention. After enduring lots of his acrobatics around me while I tried everything to soothe the baby, I finally, sternly told Noah to read his books in the living room like a good big boy and that I'd get him milk when I could. I detected a small face crumple, but it was brief. 

When Elias seemed to calm down, I rushed off to try to attend to my Noah, who ran up to me and worriedly confessed that he had ripped one of his favourite books. When I saw the book, it didn't look like an accident, it looked like he had ripped the book apart violently. "Why did you rip your book, Noah?" I asked. "Because I was sad. And then I was sad I ripped my book", he said. This just about broke my heart. I burst into tears and scooped him up in my arms for a big snuggle even though the baby had started to scream again in the other room. 

I felt so defeated. I tried my very best but it just wasn't enough. I know that in the long run, last night was barely a blip on the radar, and that neither one of them will remember it, but all I could think was that I had let my big boy down by ignoring his needs for the new baby. This boy who made me a mother, this boy who up until 12 weeks ago, was my everything. I guess the transition to two is a little bit tougher than I initially anticipated.

It's a new day though, and I swear to you, my boys, that I'm doing my very best for you.