My Equation

For too long, I have seen my present as this equation:

Positive past experiences +Negative past experiences  = ME

I haven’t liked the sum, and I’ve pored through the equation, wondering where my addition is off.  Where I mis-added, as though my past and my math is what’s off.  But I am so tired of rehashing my past, rethinking every decision, every embarrassing moment, as if those experiences are everything. 

Recently, I contacted a counselor.  Perhaps, I thought, a third party can go through my equation to see where I’m adding my life incorrectly, to see where I can fix myself to finally be happy.  The counselor asked me to write out a timeline of my life, to list all my highs and lows, so she could get to know me better and we could talk about who I am.  But I don’t want to focus on that one time I wore an “uncool” sweater (that was simply ahead of its time), that I was made fun of about, and ruined 8^th grade.  It happened, it’s over, and I would wear that sweater every day if only it still fit.  That day sucked.  But it’s not who I am.  I don’t need a counselor to walk me through that outfit – or any other day of my life.  I'm tired of poring through my past with a fine tooth comb.

All along, my addition had been correct; I was adding, and adding, and adding.  The answer I got just wasn’t the answer I was looking for.  It wasn’t at all who I am.  So all along, it was my equation that was wrong.  I can’t get rid of my past – positive or negative.  They all factor into who I am.  But the math is not solely two factors, and those factors are not equal parts.  The negative does not weigh on my present and future as much as the positive.  My future is not a linear progression of reflecting and obsessing on the past.  My life, my present, my future – who I am – is not just simple addition.  I am exponential.

(Positive + Aspirations)² + negative = ME.  All of me.  Who I want to be.  My future.

All this time, I have focused so heavily on my past that I forgot to factor in my hopes, goals, dreams, and aspirations.  It is my past along with my hopes that multiplies and grows.  The negative is only just a small factor, added only after everything else has been multiplied.  And that it what makes me who I am, and who I want to be.

When Bad News Isn't So Bad

Little things.  Quirks.  Mannerisms.  Like walking around with his head tilted to the side.

And then some bigger things too.  Not answering to his name, avoiding eye contact, not saying a single word.

When Paul was 18-months old and not talking, I passed it off as being the third child with verbose older siblings.  Gavin was a late talker, so it wasn't that big a deal.  But at 21 months I started to feel like I was in denial about... something...? that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  And by 22 months, when Paul stopped saying the one word he ever did have (Thank you), and wasn't even babbling anymore, I called the pediatrician.

Did you know that every single state has an early intervention program?  I did not realize, at all, that our child could qualify for state services for aid until my pediatrician told me to call Maryland's Infants and Toddlers program.  Picking up the phone to make that call - admitting out loud to the world that something was wrong - was the hardest part of beginning Paul's care.

I&T answered the phone with kindness and support, and that is a theme that has continued throughout my experience.  Fearing an Autism diagnosis, but hoping to hear my kid was just a late talker, I requested a speech evaluation to see if Paul would qualify for services, and they immediately suggested a hearing test.

A hearing test?  But Paul dances ALL THE TIME.  How could there be any issues with his hearing?  A week after scheduling the hearing test, Paul failed it.  He failed it hard. And I knew within 30 seconds of beginning the test that he would fail it.  By the time he turned his head to see where the hissing noise was coming from, I was ready to cover my own ears from the noise.  And when he did turn to look, he turned in the wrong direction.

But when the audiologist ended the test, I was almost laughing from relief.  Yes, relief!  Paul couldn't hear, and that's why he wasn't talking!!  Beyond that, the audiologist suggested that his problem seemed likely to be caused by fluid in his ears.  Even though he had never had an ear infection.  Fluid in his ears.  And that would explain the tipped head, as Paul was compensating for his balance.

A trip to the ENT later, Paul was scheduled for bilateral tubes and an adenoidectomy.  He had that surgery last week.  And while I was hoping for an overnight cure and a full vocabulary, I knew that was unlikely.  Even so, Paul is responding to his name.  He has completely stopped tipping his head to walk.  He is more involved.

Paul finally had his speech evaluation through I&T yesterday.  I was not surprised that he does qualify for speech therapy.  His language was rated as a 13-month old, which means he's only just experimenting with making consonant sounds.  He has a long road ahead.  BUT, and this is huge, of all the delays he has, they were entirely language based.  He didn't exhibit a single behavioral marker for anything like Autism, Asperger's, or any of those scary problems.  I still need to bring Paul back to the audiologist for a follow-up hearing test to make sure he doesn't have nerve damage in his ears.  But at the very worst, we have a child with mild hearing loss.  He's getting the care he needs, and he'll find the words he wants soon.

I am so thankful for Infants and Toddlers.  I do feel a little guilty that I didn't ask for an evaluation sooner, but I know he's a happy, loving, intelligent child.  I know Paul will do great things in this world.  And I am so happy for such wonderful bad news.

Seemingly Overnight

Five minutes drag by and suddenly a day has passed.  It's the same with children. I watch everyday to see how they grow. More often it's behavior: new words, better pronunciation, attempting to tell jokes, actions. But sometimes I can actually see them grow.  Seemingly overnight.  Poof! They're bigger.

It's the most amazing thing about motherhood so far. A shoe doesn't fit - overnight! A button pops, a dress just isn't quite long enough although it was last week, ankles show beneath too-short pant legs.  And still these are secondary reminders of the constant growth. We see the charts from one check up to the next, measured in percentiles from one year to the next.  50th percentile for height, 20th for weight, following her own growth curve... But what does that mean in real life?  What is the difference between x feet tall and x feet one inch?  

Sometimes, the difference of one inch is the difference between toddling safely under the kitchen table, and bonking a forehead on the edge as he tries to steal a snack.  Or fitting nicely under the tall kitchen counter, and smacking a temple into the corner as she runs past.

Every so often, we can see our children grow while the clock slowly ticks on.

Life lately

Life lately has been too good to blog.  Why blog when I'm surrounded by so much awesome?  Yet at the same time life has been too good not to blog.  I want to remember this stuff!  I want to chronicle my wonderful family.  It's selfish, really, as I can just pull up a blog post on a bad day and instantly remember the good times that have happened and have yet to happen that make it all worthwhile.  I don't do that here.  So this post won't be a recap of fun weekends or silly kid stories.  I have other places for that.  Places that are far more meaningful to me.  This is my place to whine.  Which is probably why I'm not some wildly successful blogger.  I'm just another woman complaining into the ether.  And lately, I just haven't had much to complain about.

 

On Pre-K Homework and Perfectionism

Laura started Pre-K at her daycare the last week of August.  She was so excited.  So very excited.  Not to finally be in the 4's class, even though she's been four for 3/4 of a year now.  But because of homework.

"I can't wait to move up to the 4's class so I can get homework!  Grandma calls it homefun!  It's going to be perfect!"

"Perfect."  But that's precisely the problem I have with this homework.  Perfectionism.

Laura comes home every night with her intimidating black composition book with assignments glued in.  Practice these letters.  Color in this picture.  Draw these shapes to match.  It's not the actual assignments - it's the expectation Laura has for herself to be perfect.

Practice these letters: She's lefty, which means that our right-handed system of letter writing is not intuitive for her.  Many of her letters come out perfectly written... completely backwards.  And as soon as Laura compares her letter to the example, she bursts into tears.  "It's not perfect!  It needs to be perfect!  My teacher will be upset!"

Woah.  WAIT A MINUTE.  You are four years old.  You still fit on my lap, and snuggle blankies to sleep, and need me to cut up your food at dinner.  You are still so little and young and innocent.  Please, PLEASE don't worry about what a teacher thinks of you.

I am frustrated, and maybe I need to speak with her teacher about this, but I am frustrated because it feels like Laura is feeling pressured  to learn and do things a certain way.  Maybe the pressure she is feeling is all internal.  But if there is a teacher - or even a classmate - making her feel this way, she needs it to stop.  She'll learn to write her letters.  I'm quite sure of that.  I just don't need her feeling intimidated into learning.

As Laura said just last night, "Mom, this homework really isn't fun.  I thought it was supposed to be fun."  So I wrote as much in a little note in her composition book last night:
Laura did not finish writing her P's because she was getting too upset when they weren't "perfect" and I asked her to stop. -C

Apologies to Lil' Troy

Wanna be a -- crawler, shot caller

Twenty pacifiers -- on the ExerSaucer

A crawler gettin fed tonight

Paul will be six months old on the 5th.  He's not actually crawling yet... But it's close.  He gets up on his hands and knees before face planting, and when he's on his tummy and pushes himself backwards to wherever it is he wants to go.  Hide your daughters: Paul's on the move.

Cheese

There are so many things I love about this photo:

I see a dress I felt spectacular in, despite hours of panic and more than one last minute dress purchase while this one waited patiently in my closet.

I see hair that was worth every penny of having it done professionally hours beforehand.

I see pride and ease in feeding my baby during a wedding reception...

I also see a little "cocktail" of Sprite (his 4th in as many minutes), set oh so carefully to the side on the chair he carefully pulled over to be next to me.

I see those pudgy little hands purposefully set on his lap.

I see that suit! My god, that little seersucker suit!

I see the world's funniest two-year-old, cheesing for the camera...

I also see joy, and laughter, and beauty in a day filled with the same.  My brother was married this weekend.  My little brother (who I often picture in my head as a blonde, choo-choo loving, funny little guy, so very similar to the blonde, choo-choo loving funny little guy seated beside me in this photo), all grown up and married to a wonderful woman. 

It's a blurry photo, and "terrible" of both me and Gavin.  But it's my favorite photo from the day.  Or at least one of them... it was such a happy day, and there are so many photos I love, but this one.  There's just something about this one.

Tuesday Night BBQ

Every Tuesday night for the past several weeks, we have had "plans" with our neighbors.  Laura even asks "Mom, it's the middle day of school - do we have plans tonight?"  I love it!  I love the friendship and camaraderie we have found in our new neighborhood.  This, this Tuesday night routine, is a huge reason why we moved.  Tuesday nights means hamburger or hot dogs on the grill, a potluck of salads, running in sprinklers, and getting covered in melted Popsicle - all on a weeknight!

Yesterday, we weren't supposed to have "plans."  The other mom and I hadn't discussed anything, and I thought I'd take my kids to the pool.  Well, it was too chilly (!) for the pool, so I asked my friend (!!) if she'd like to bring the kids over for Popsicles after dinner. 

"I don't know how soon we can get over there, I have to wait for the husband to bring home buns."
"Well, I have tons of buns but not enough burgers - shall we pool our resources?"
"Yes! Your yard or mine?"

We wound up at our yard, which ended up being a silly choice as I was completely out of propane!  So we cooked the burgers inside and made do.  It was probably even better that way, adding to the spontaneity of our Tuesday Night BBQ.  All seven kids broke down in tired tantrums at the same time, so I helped my friend scoop her kids into the car while Nate wrangled our own kids into the house for bedtime.

I need to go buy more Popsicles and propane.  We'll probably have to skip our BBQ next week (my brother is getting married!!!), but I can't wait to start back up again after that.  It feels so nice having friends!

Parenting

Before I was a mom, I wondered how it would handle "parenting" other people's kids.  Like, say I had a friend's kid at my house and I needed to put a stop to some sort of behavior. Would I turn a blind eye because I was too afraid to parent someone else's kid? Would I offend that parent by stepping in? Would I feel weird?

As it turns out, like most everything else parenting related, speaking to other peoples kids comes fairly naturally.  You see something happen, you react to it.  And rather than feeling weird... I actually feel boastful. 

Like "I just told our kids what's what. Didn't I handle that nicely?! I said xyz and told them zyx and I think they really got it!  I spoke to them and they understood and now they're playing so nicely! High five me!"

This is not the reaction I expected of myself.  But maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I really like to brag.  Even when it's over something like getting three little girls to play nicely.

Sidenote: wow. That mean girls crap starts so young!  And don't get me wrong, I was upset with my daughter for excluding someone... But I was also pretty upset with the excluded girl for being so damn whiney! I mean, no wonder the others didn't want to play with you, you expected to be included by whining to grown ups that you weren't being included! As if the girls could read your mind that you wanted to play too?  There is a lot to be said of simply saying "hey, can I play too?" 

So yeah, I reprimanded all three girls.  Laura, you have felt excluded and it sucks. Be nice and include this little girl.  But also, friend? You can't just whine your way into an invitation to play! Include yourself and please stop tattling!  Humph!

I avoided the whiney girl's mom... She seemed rather whiney herself. But I was delighted by the high-five I got from the third girl's mom!

Scenes from this week

Four and a half with an attitude

Mini golf

Mr. Handsome

Literary dog

Baptisms, Cake and Baby-led Weaning

Doctors will tell you that babies can start having solid foods around four months old.  But they caveat that by adding that babies shouldn't have solid foods until they begin showing interest in foods.

Paul was baptized on Sunday, 10 days after his four month birthday.  I baked a little cake to serve as dessert at his reception after the baptism. And when I asked to get a picture of him with the cake, he DOVE in!  I have seen one-year-olds less interested in their first birthday cakes!  

We had not yet given Paul any solid foods to eat. In part because I simply hadn't remembered to buy any infant cereal at the store on any of my grocery runs!  However, I think we can safely assume that Paul in definitely interested in food, and ready for cereal!

I also just love that my son's first food was cake... I have had a deep love of cake since I was a baby. My first word was cake - maybe it will be Paul's, too!

Paul's second food: rice cereal on 7/14/14

Asking for help

I tend to believe I can do everything.  I can be a mom and a wife and a coworker!  I can get all the laundry washed, folded and put away!  I can do all the dishes!  I can feed everyone all the meals!  Healthy meals, too!  I can get all my work (both at home and at work) done!  I can vacuum, too!  Groceries!  Planning!  Play dates!  Let's go to the pool - Daddy will Birthday parties, showers, baptisms - all the parties!

And I don't need help!

But oh yes, I do need help.

Lately, everything has been slipping a little.  The house isn't as tidy.  I can't figure out what the hell to cook for dinner on any given night.  We've been getting more take-out than I believe is healthy or wallet-friendly.  I took the kids to the pool once by myself and it was... a challenge.  Work has been frustrating to say the least, and confusing and difficult and self-esteem wrenching.

I know I'm no saint.  I'm not perfect, nor should I strive to be so.  But it's been really hard for me to step back and say "No I can't do this. Not by myself."  And so I've had to ask for help.  I need Nate to meet me at the pool - if only to help me carry the kids kicking and screaming back to the car when it's time to go home.  I need help with the laundry - even if it's just carrying the folded baskets upstairs to their designated bedroom.  I need help with dinner - even if that means another night of take-out that Nate brings home.  He's part of the marriage too, so why don't I let myself depend on him more?

And I need help at work.  This has been the hardest help to ask for.  Asking for help at work means I have to admit that I am struggling and that I should have asked for help months ago.  Weeks ago.  Even days ago.  Every day I let pass without asking for help only mires me further and only beats down my usually cheerful and positive demeanor.  (Side note: while I can be extremely mopey at home, I tend to be the complete opposite at work.  At work, I'm the cheerful optimistic cheerleader,  keeping everyone else peppy. Strange, isn't it?)

Today I asked for helped.  I sat with my boss, apologized for getting a little weepy, and told her all the horrible things I've been feeling inside for waiting so long to ask for help.  I told her all the things that are confusing me and challenging me and keeping me from moving forward with projects.  I asked for help.  And she gave it freely and without hesitation.  Because that's what she's there for - to oversee and assist and lead and help.

Why did I wait so long?

Capable

This is what going to the zoo with three kids looks like.

Nate was in North Carolina on Saturday, leaving me to fend for myself with the three children.  I needed a plan to get us all out of the house, and my friends were planning to be in DC.  Perfect!  I'll see friends AND get the kids out of the house without going crazy!
The plan was a good one.  I would feed the children an early lunch, then leave the house at noon in order to give Gavin a chance to nap in the car.  We would park in a prepaid garage near the National Zoo (thank you Groupon and Parking Panda!).  I would wear Paul in the front pack, and push the other two in the double stroller.  We would meet our friends at the pandas at 2:00.

The problem with plans is that they never quite go, well, according to plans!

The first part worked out just fine.  We got into DC, found our prepaid garage, and walked to the zoo a few blocks away.  So it was hot, so the stroller was heavy, we were off to a fun day at the zoo!  But then snag #1: a delayed flight into DC meant we wouldn't see half the friends we were planning to see until 5:00 at the earliest, and I wasn't sure my crew would last that long.

And shortly thereafter, snag #2: "meet at the pandas" is a really vague meeting place, as it turns out, and my other friend doesn't have a phone after spending 6 years overseas... So there I was, wandering the National Zoo with three children all by myself.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to give up and walk back to the car and go home.  I was on the brink of feeling completely inadequate in taking three kids out of the house by myself.

But wait a minute, self!  I'm already at the zoo!  The children are (gasp) excited to see animals!  They're even behaving and sitting nicely in the stroller and holding hands when they get out of the stroller to see better.  They are overjoyed to see pandas!  They don't care in the least that my plan to see my friends isn't quite working out.  And you know what, self?  I am completely capable of doing this trip!

I swallowed back the tears, handed snacks out to the kids, and chose to enjoy myself.  And as it turns out, we did find that phoneless friend!  And we were able to stick around the city till 5:00 to meet up with the other friends for some dinner!  My kids were amazingly well behaved, given the heat and length of the outing and everything else.  And I felt completely capable and strong and confident pushing my trio through the DC Pride Parade, where we happened to wind up (I totally forgot that was going on!) for dinner. 

I was staring at all the men who had forgotten their pants that morning... and they were gawking at me in turn!  "Good lord, that's a lot of kids, lady!" I heard from one man in gold undies with a tiara...  All in all, it was a wonderful day.  And then I got shingles.

Work It

Last week was hard.  I flew from Albany to Chicago, switched planes, and flew the rest of the way to Seattle, with Paul strapped snugly to my chest.  We checked one bag and one car seat, and carried two bags and a stroller through the airports.  Let's be honest: the stroller was for the duffel bag, not the baby.

We landed at 11 am, hopped in a taxi, and off-loaded at the Conference center. I checked my suitcase, grabbed my conference badge, and met my coworkers outside my session.  They took Paul while I changed in the ladies room, put in my contacts, and slapped on some make-up. A quick lunch and a venti coffee later, I was up on stage speaking to 100 Chinese museum professionals.  And while I knew Paul was safe outside the meeting room, I heard him cry a few times and I knew he was as exhausted as I.

We spent most of Monday in the exhibition hall, meeting vendors in person and scoping out the coolest freebies to bring home.  We did go to the general session, and I'm glad I did.  The speaker was fabulous (and Paul was quiet).  Monday was great. I was on a high from my crazy Sunday itinerary going off without a hitch and I felt confident in Paul's easy personality.

Tuesday brought sessions I wanted to hear.  And I tried.  So hard, I tried to sit through sessions.  But a crying baby in a crowded meeting room isn't fair to anyone.  So I left every session I went to within the first 10 minutes.  And I sat in a corner and cried for feeling like bringing Paul was a mistake.

But that was stupid.  I didn't go to the conference to hear things, at least that wasn't my sole reason.  I went to the conference to represent my museum.  To speak and be heard.  And actually, yes, to be seen as a strong working mother with my child in a front pack on my chest.  There aren't a ton of working mom role models in my field.  I am proud to be one of the few.

Tuesday night, after telling myself it was ok to skip the sessions, I went to a fabulous evening event.  The venue was packed, so imagine my surprise when several people elbowed their way to me - me! - to tell me they had seen me all week with Paul and that they were inspired by seeing us together at the conference.  

So when I walked into my second session Wednesday morning I didn't have Paul strapped to my chest (he was at the hotel with my aunt), but I was carrying instead pride and confidence.  My session was fabulous - a packed room with great audience response and questions.  

I hope my fellow conference goers attended great sessions and went home with some fun freebies.  I didn't attend a single full session, but I came away with the best freebie there is - a great deal of confidence in who I am as a woman, mother and professional.  

On Doing It All

I leave on Friday for a whirlwind of a week abroad, just me and Lil Paul-Paul (as Laura calls him), traveling the US.  We'll first be attending my sister's college graduation, as she has been to every single graduation for me and my two brothers - we owe her!  Next, Paul and I will be hopping on a plane to fly to the West coast for a work conference.  I won't simply be attending... I am presenting.  Twice.  Because I'm crazy, right? 

But what mom isn't a little crazy.  We do everything we can to be everything to everyone.  We are first a daughter and sister, because they have been there from the very beginning: from the toddler tantrums, through the bad glasses and braces of middle school, the drama of high school and college, weddings and babies.   We are a daughter and a sister, so we go to graduations, to show our love and support by being there for such a big achievement.

We are a wife to the man we met so many years ago on a Friday afternoon, and to whom we have promised a lifetime of love and devotion.  So before we leave him with two young children for a week, we write out schedules and lunch plans.  We prepare a birthday present for a friend's party.  We buy easy dinners for the nights we are away. 

We are mother to our beautiful sons and daughters.  The children for whom we have wished and prayed and hoped for and continue to love every minute of every day.  We want the very best for our children.  For many mothers, that means staying home.  And some of us go to work, trusting with every fiber of our being that they're okay all day without us.  So we lovingly pack school bags, and ask for that one last hug at drop off, and eagerly await stories of their day away.

We are friends and colleagues.  And sometimes that means we have to put work a little ahead of our families.  We leave before the sun rises, and get home in time to help tuck in.  Sometimes we travel - all the way across the country - to advance our careers.  Sometimes this means we miss important things at home, like birthdays - both our own child's and a dear friend's.  We miss packing lunches, and folding tiny pairs of shorts, and bath time and stories.  We miss the beautiful mundane...  but we miss it to ultimately to better support the families we so love. 

So Friday I leave home, leave Laura and Gavin and Nate for seven days.  I will spend time with my family - the original six of us (plus Paul), as none of our spouses will be there.  I am so excited for this quick visit with my parents, sister and two brothers, just us, for the first time in years. 

On Sunday, I fly to the West Coast and my first of two presentations.  I'm missing Gavin's 2nd birthday.  My big boy, turning two years old, and I'll be on a plane and speaking in front of strangers.  But even while spending a week as a professional, I'll still be a mom first - with Paul attending every session in the front pack with me.  I've been a little stressed about this crazy itinerary, I have a packing list a foot long, I'm not exactly sure how everything will go, I'm still tripping on my words for my presentation, and I'm a little worried about how well Paul will travel.  But I know I can do it, because that's what moms do.  We do it all.

Life's Perfect Moments

AKA: Why you should never leave a four-year-old in charge of anything.

Laura not squashing the baby

We have had a lot of rain in Maryland this week.  A lot.  And while the skies are clear today, my basement is still a little damp.  I may have been home all day Wednesday during the worst of the downpours, but that doesn't mean I remembered to check the french drain by the basement door for clogs!  Which brings me to this:


I went down to the basement for one quick second to do something I can’t even remember anymore, and saw a line of mud along the door sill with an area of darker carpet spread (of course) through the dress-up clothes and a large pile of books on the floor next to the bookshelf.  The drain!  The blasted drain had to be clogged - and it was in that moment I remembered I'm supposed to check said drain for clogs before things get messy... oops!

I ran back upstairs to grab Laura to help me clean up the books, and noted that Paul was on his activity mat on the floor, so, like, sort of safe-ish enough.  Gavin followed to “help” move the books that had been strewn about the floor to a dry part of the basement, so Paul was totally fine!  We got everything cleaned up inside, so I needed to move outside to clear the drain before the flooding got worse.  

But then I had to go outside in the deluge of rain to unclog the drain and shovel the masses of wet leaves out of the area.  I left Laura in charge with Paul still on the floor… even though it would have taken me 20 seconds to put him in the swing.  The drain too longer to clear than I anticipated, but I was so focused on my task, I really didn't notice how much time was passing.  The kids were dry inside, and in my brain that meant they were safe.  

Gavin not squashing the baby

I finally got the drain cleared and went inside bleeding from two spots on my hands from doing god only knows what while cleaning the drain, to find Gavin sitting on Paul whacking him with a remote, while Laura is pulling Gavin’s feet and sobbing that he needs to stop and listen to her because she’s the oldest and why is he not listening!  (I don't know, Laura, but if you get him to listen please share your sage wisdom!)  Nate walked in right at that moment, as I am standing in a puddle of rain water and blood next to three crying children, and asked if I could help gather up water glasses for the dishwasher… I laughed, told him to save the infant (still on the floor), and walked away.

The rain has stopped.  The children survived.  The basement is fine, minus a few books.  This is my perfect life.

Bubbles the Fish

I bet you thought we got a new pet...

As much as I love formal serve ware with fish designs, no. I'm not a fish person... For eating or as pets.  But Bubbles is a new friend around here, helping little Paul breath a little easier as he works through a bad case of bronchiolitis.  We are lucky it's not RSV.  

In case you're wondering, Bubbles came with the name.  And Paul hates him.

BOB-bing along

When I was initially shopping for a stroller back in 2009, I thought "why would I spend $500 on a stroller that won't fit in my car?"  So I bought the travel system that came with the infant seat and a stroller that... barely fit in my car.  And also only rolled smoothly on nicely paved surfaces.  And was obnoxious.  And ended up being abandoned in the basement.  

We also had a smaller, "fancy" umbrella stroller that for some reason just never rolled as easily as it should have.

So I bought a cheapie umbrella stroller from Babies R Us that was our go-to stroller.  

Then I wanted a double stroller and bought one without doing enough research.  And while it fit two kids, it was incredibly heavy to lift and push, barely fit in my car, and just wasn't worth it.  And then I started running and wanted a jogging stroller but just couldn't justify a 5th stroller when most of my running was done once I got to work, without children.

But now I'm healed enough from Paul's birth that I've been itching to get moving again.  I know longer have a gym membership, and any exercise I am going to do will be with Paul in tow.  So I became obsessed with jogging strollers, swallowing the stupidity of owning five strollers.  I wanted a good one, but one that didn't cost an arm and a leg.  We just don't have the cash for a $500 stroller right now!  

Everything I read and researched and tested in stores brought me back to the BOB - the most expensive of the bunch. But I wanted it!  So bad.  Oh the running I would do with Paul in a BOB!  So I found a used one on a certain Craig's list, bought it, and love it!!!

Paul loves it too.  Our new neighborhood is wonderful for walking and running.  The weather has been fabulous, and I've been soaking up the sunshine and warm breeze!  We are expecting rain tomorrow, so I'll have to leave the BOB barely fitting in my trunk till we have some sunshine again. Oh well!  We'll be back on the trails on the next sunny day!

One of those super mom days

Today it was just me and my boys.  My first full day alone with more than just Paul since he was born.  Laura is on a trip with Grandma, so I still have yet to spend a full day alone with all three... Baby steps?

I was nervous about today, but am happy to report we had a great day.   Timorrow will probably be terrible, as a counter, but today was great.

I showered, fed everyone and got us in the car to run errands.  We picked up some supplies at Home Depot, then got home for lunch.  I even got Gavin to take a nap!  Paul didn't quite cooperate with napping at the same time, but his overlapped the tail end of Gavin's, so I got a brief doze as well. 

After nap (while Paul snoozed away in the  swing), Gav and I got to work on our project!  We added coffee table legs to a Brio train top that has been my brother's long long ago!  Gavin painted the legs, then helped me attach them!

We are proud of our handiwork, and can't wait to configure some train tracks tomorrow!

Paul took a long enough nap that Gav and I got some swing time in before dinner.  Miraculously, Paul's naps worked our so nicely all day!  He cooperated with my needs for keeping Gavin entertained and safe... and what's even better, Paul fell asleep for the night early!  It's 9:30 and I am in bed.  I don't expect tomorrow to go as smoothly as today, but maybe I'll be happily surprised!  Good night!

Big Boy Bed

I blame myself, as I foolishly had the bed from Gavin's room moved into the nursery so I could more easily get in and out of bed to feed Paul, with the c-section recovery.  We didn't think Gavin would care, since he's been so happy staying in the crib.  But I suppose having your mom and dad gone for four nights, then bringing home the new baby and taking his bed was just too much.

It's hard becoming a big brother!  This new kid suddenly appearing on mom's lap, crying at all hours of the day and night, with fun looking bouncy contraptions that big brothers aren't allowed to sit in...  Gavin has taken his new role of big brother in stride, always hugging and kissing "Baby," patting his head and bringing him toys to play with.  (And as sweet as it all is, omg terrifying!  Those hugs are one well-meaning step away from smothering!  This is all incredibly supervised!)

But as sweetly as Gavin is toward his brother, I did expect some less positive behavior changes.  With Laura, it's been a quickness to tears.  With Gavin, it's been a literal fear of bedtime.  Vaulting himself out of the crib, landing on his head (of course), and running screaming into the hall.

Night lights haven't worked.  Neither has music, blankies, stuffed animals, or anything besides a grown-up sitting right next to him in bed.  

In a big boy bed, that is.  The crib jumping was just too dangerous.  A big boy bed for my sweet big brother... A little sooner than I feel like he's really ready, but what can you do??  My in-laws brought a toddler bed for Gavin to use, so we set that up in his room.  But the next problem has been the fear of being alone.

We tried staying with him till he fell asleep.  But he would pop up like a daisy as soon as we thought he was alseep.  We tried moving him into Laura's room.  But he just kept both of them awake.  Laura was so patient, but so upset!  

After nights of screaming and crying and running into the hall at 3am, we needed a new strategy.  We asked Gavin if he'd like his twin bed back.  He nodded yes.  Did he want it in his room? No.  He wanted to sleep in his bed... In Paul's room.  Would that mean sleep for everyone else??  Fine.

However, we did also decide to put a lock on Gavin's new room's door... A tip I had read and filed away ages ago.  But putting it into practice was much harder emotionally than I thought it would be!  My poor, scared little boy locked into his room??  But our desire to not hold a door closed, sitting in the hall all night won out.

It's been three nights with Gavin in a twin bed locked in the nursery.  He has cried at the door for a few minutes each night, then tucked himself back into bed.  He has woken crying and trying the door each night between 1 and 3, but he ended up sleeping in the bed.  I am glad he's locked in the room during the wee hour wake-ups, as I am terrified he would fall down the stairs in his tantrum.  But it's heartbreaking all the same, knowing he's in his room afraid of something he can't quite verbalize.

On the other hand, he is super cute all snuggled into his big bed!