That moment...
That moment when someone spits up into your shoe.
That, my friends, is parenting.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Advice Overload
One of the toughest things about parenting is that you are always surrounded by advice.
Note that I chose the words "toughest" and "surrounded" intentionally. Both of them.
Sometimes the advice is given: solicited and not.
People, seeing that you are one-handing a stroller, tackling an exuberant doesn't-realize-she-is-only-two-year-old, and keeping your "I WANT TO YELL" voice to just a "HOLY CRAP THIS IS MY FRUSTRATED" voice when you remind the four year old that he does, indeed, know how to put on his shoes. No he didn't forget how. No, it doesn't hurt his arms. Yes, indeed, sir, you need to do it yourself. (As does your sister, but that's another story).
Yes, we've tried charts and stickers.
We've encourage independence, we've coddled.
We've rewarded, we've taken away.
We've basically taken all your parenting advice,
And the advice of the guy across the street that is totally opposite? We've taken his too.
And the baby? Yes, I'm giving him a bottle, no, don't worry about my milk supply (ps: nunya). Yes, he's big. Yes, he has neck cheese. No, he's never going to be able to roll with that gigantic head.
Those people, have coaching opinions.
And then the surrounding.
The times that you google "postpartum hair loss", and "milk supply" and "social skills and 'four year old'" and "is xyz developmentally appropriate" and "when does abc end and jlk begin, and holy crap, who told me about pqr"?
The internet. It has ALL the advice.
And this make-you-crazy advice I've freaking subjected myself to.
Why?
Because you know what? We aren't actually breaking these babies and kids. They are fairly well-adjusted, kind most of the time, eat a vegetable or two, and are capable (if not willing) of putting on their own shoes.
And then comes that day when you are taking a lovely walk at the Arboretum with an equally lovely first time Mom, and she gives the parenting advice that makes you stop in your tracks.
Someone told her, this lovely, zen, Irish first time mama, "treat your first like he's your third".
I'll say it again
"Treat your first like he's your third".
And the freaking AHA light goes off.
There's a reason that I laugh that those new Luvs commercials.
I hate cheesy Mom commercial, but these? They nail them.
I have handed the baby to near strangers with a "can you just hold him for a second" while I find my keys/wallet/bag/phone. (Maybe not the mechanic, but yes near strangers who don't know my last name and only ocassionally pronounce my first name correctly.)
I've parked him with awesome school staff when I run upstairs to get the kid at school.
I let him cry for 5 minutes (secret: sometimes ten), so I can get a shower.
I'm actually breastfeeding this time around because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it's working. And I'm also feeding formula bottles too because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it is working.
And I'm not surreptitiously mixing those formula bottles in the car because of fear of judgy judy.
I'm choosing the "fast" bottles over the slower ones for those middle of the night feeds, because, ya'll, I'm tired!
I'm counting oatmeal cookies as oatmeal when trying to work on my milk supply.
I'm allocating tomatoes as vegetable servings for the big kids,
I moved the baby to his room already because I know I need to sleep to be a good parent.
I'm investing heavily in the Costco prepared foods aisle.
I'm wiping spit ups on my sleeve, the baby's blanket... basically whatever is available.
I'm greatly congratulating myself on the days I shower BEFORE school drop off. But also not getting a darn on those days that the jammie-pants-that-you-call-yoga-pants-to-feel-better-about-it are worn all day.
My most hit upon (non-infertility) related posts on this blog are about how parenting is hard. (See: "Zazoo" http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/zazoo.html , and "It Gets Better" http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-gets-better.html
The lesson learned?
TALK ABOUT HOW HARD IT IS... and then let it go, and find your "third kid" place.
So let's not make each other crazy. Let's give some good old practical advice like my wise Irish friend.
Worry about the things that matter. All the other things will fall into place.
What you got?
James is listening. And ya'll?
He's not suffering.
Not even a little.
Note that I chose the words "toughest" and "surrounded" intentionally. Both of them.
Sometimes the advice is given: solicited and not.
People, seeing that you are one-handing a stroller, tackling an exuberant doesn't-realize-she-is-only-two-year-old, and keeping your "I WANT TO YELL" voice to just a "HOLY CRAP THIS IS MY FRUSTRATED" voice when you remind the four year old that he does, indeed, know how to put on his shoes. No he didn't forget how. No, it doesn't hurt his arms. Yes, indeed, sir, you need to do it yourself. (As does your sister, but that's another story).
Yes, we've tried charts and stickers.
We've encourage independence, we've coddled.
We've rewarded, we've taken away.
We've basically taken all your parenting advice,
And the advice of the guy across the street that is totally opposite? We've taken his too.
And the baby? Yes, I'm giving him a bottle, no, don't worry about my milk supply (ps: nunya). Yes, he's big. Yes, he has neck cheese. No, he's never going to be able to roll with that gigantic head.
Those people, have coaching opinions.
And then the surrounding.
The times that you google "postpartum hair loss", and "milk supply" and "social skills and 'four year old'" and "is xyz developmentally appropriate" and "when does abc end and jlk begin, and holy crap, who told me about pqr"?
The internet. It has ALL the advice.
And this make-you-crazy advice I've freaking subjected myself to.
Why?
Because you know what? We aren't actually breaking these babies and kids. They are fairly well-adjusted, kind most of the time, eat a vegetable or two, and are capable (if not willing) of putting on their own shoes.
And then comes that day when you are taking a lovely walk at the Arboretum with an equally lovely first time Mom, and she gives the parenting advice that makes you stop in your tracks.
Someone told her, this lovely, zen, Irish first time mama, "treat your first like he's your third".
I'll say it again
"Treat your first like he's your third".
And the freaking AHA light goes off.
There's a reason that I laugh that those new Luvs commercials.
I hate cheesy Mom commercial, but these? They nail them.
I have handed the baby to near strangers with a "can you just hold him for a second" while I find my keys/wallet/bag/phone. (Maybe not the mechanic, but yes near strangers who don't know my last name and only ocassionally pronounce my first name correctly.)
I've parked him with awesome school staff when I run upstairs to get the kid at school.
I let him cry for 5 minutes (secret: sometimes ten), so I can get a shower.
I'm actually breastfeeding this time around because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it's working. And I'm also feeding formula bottles too because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it is working.
And I'm not surreptitiously mixing those formula bottles in the car because of fear of judgy judy.
I'm choosing the "fast" bottles over the slower ones for those middle of the night feeds, because, ya'll, I'm tired!
I'm counting oatmeal cookies as oatmeal when trying to work on my milk supply.
I'm allocating tomatoes as vegetable servings for the big kids,
I moved the baby to his room already because I know I need to sleep to be a good parent.
I'm investing heavily in the Costco prepared foods aisle.
I'm wiping spit ups on my sleeve, the baby's blanket... basically whatever is available.
I'm greatly congratulating myself on the days I shower BEFORE school drop off. But also not getting a darn on those days that the jammie-pants-that-you-call-yoga-pants-to-feel-better-about-it are worn all day.
My most hit upon (non-infertility) related posts on this blog are about how parenting is hard. (See: "Zazoo" http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/zazoo.html , and "It Gets Better" http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-gets-better.html
The lesson learned?
TALK ABOUT HOW HARD IT IS... and then let it go, and find your "third kid" place.
So let's not make each other crazy. Let's give some good old practical advice like my wise Irish friend.
Worry about the things that matter. All the other things will fall into place.
What you got?
James is listening. And ya'll?
He's not suffering.
Not even a little.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Halloweek
I'm sure it is awesome when you are grown and have access to an open bar to have a Saturday Halloween, but when you are less than 13, your options become a WHOLE WEEK of Hallofestivities...
And when Halloween actually rolls around you are worn out.
We hit the local university Halloween (Thanks CUA!), R's school fall festival (Thanks Lee), and did the Trick or Treat thing.
And by the end of it? All asleep way earlier than the time change would have hope.
But was it fun?
It was totes fun.
More gratuitous costume-y photos.
And when Halloween actually rolls around you are worn out.
We hit the local university Halloween (Thanks CUA!), R's school fall festival (Thanks Lee), and did the Trick or Treat thing.
And by the end of it? All asleep way earlier than the time change would have hope.
But was it fun?
It was totes fun.
More gratuitous costume-y photos.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Halloween in the new neighborhood.
We are finally starting to settle in here at the new casa.
There is no more reveling event regarding the state of a neighborhood than trick or treating on Halloween. It was truly great to see hoards of kids out and about with parents running escort/crossing guard.
Big THANK YOU to all the parents and families that made the night a special one for everybody.
#ShawnBlogsAgain
There is no more reveling event regarding the state of a neighborhood than trick or treating on Halloween. It was truly great to see hoards of kids out and about with parents running escort/crossing guard.
Big THANK YOU to all the parents and families that made the night a special one for everybody.
#ShawnBlogsAgain
Monday, October 26, 2015
Tick Tock: Aka, A Day in the Life
Female and male minds work differently.
It's not bad or good. It's just different.
Nothing makes that more obvious than being in the time of our lives (aka NOW) when everything (and I mean everything) depends on logistics.
I was laying in bed a few weeks ago, talking through the next day, and explained to Shawn it's the "tick tock"
To anyone who worked in events, logistics, political planning, etc... I think this makes sense.
You plan events down to the minute. The minutiae. It matters. You leave time for the applause. But you move the day along. (PS, I totally had to google how to spell minutiae. I'm still not sure it is correct.)
So let's do this. 24 hours in the Edwards life.
I'll start at 9pm last night. So really. 24 hours.
9:03pm: HOLY COW both "big" kids are asleep. In the same room. Realize that this hasn't happened without being separated into different rooms in three weeks. Congratulate self.
9:06pm: Weigh in on online group with inane comment.
9:10-9:20 pm: Refresh, hoping your inane comment was received as funny. Realize this will be a boring part of your tick tock, so tune into 90 Day Fiance.
9:30pm: "Top off" baby with a bottle. Remember that time he slept 9 hours. Can't remember what you did that time, but want to do it again.
9:47 pm. Inane commentary.
9:50 pm: Realize there's laundry in the dryer. Fold it. Be impressed with yourself that you did said laundry. Three loads of it. And folded it! And put it away! Pour a congratulatory cocktail. Cheers!
9:53 pm: Actually, ask husband to put said laundry away. Congratulate him too.
10:02 pm: Point a stumbling kid in a pull-up towards the potty. One of these days he'll be night trained, right?
10:03 pm: Realize you missed all the good bad reality tv. Somehow still stay awake for 90 minutes.
10:10 pm: Send cute picture of the baby to everyone who you think won't be annoyed by it.
10:15 pm: Send cute birthday party pictures to parents of everyone from today's big kid party that you think won't be annoyed by it.
11:30 pm: Have the "why am I still awake" conversation with self. Go to sleep.
2:18 am: WAHHHHHHHH. Think "well that topping off didn't work". Give it 2 minutes. Yea, no. He wants to eat. Have the "maybe I'll only do a bottle tonight" conversation with self quickly. Self loses. Bottle and breastfeed.
2:45 am: Actually fall asleep easily after conversation with self about do-I-need-to-set-alarm. You don't set alarm.
6:05 am: Husband's alarm goes off.
6:13 am: It goes off again.
6:20 am: The baby goes off. &*%$@#$! (That hyperlinked somehow. Leaving it in because I can't wait to see what the heck it links to).
7:00 am: Wake big kids. Have them choose own outfits. Negotiate for one TV show.
7:02 am: Correct one child's choice of a nightgown for school.
7:04 am: Choose said show. The one that is most enjoyable for me.
7:30 am: Kids shoe themselves. I reshoe one. Give them half a banana and half a frozen waffle each. Have a momentary pang of "Most important meal of the day." Dismiss it quickly.
7:32 am: Kids in car. Congratulate self.
7:50 am: A dropped at school including an impressive retelling of the Wizard of Oz that we watched last night. Congratulate self on already procured Dorothy costume for Halloween sold to said 2 year old. Finally. Don't mind that she's calling herself "Princess Dorothy".
8:15 am: At R's school. SAHMFN (Stay at home mom for now) mission one for the day: selling tickets for fall festival. Put kid to work. Realize my socially-awkward, introverted "we'll be here all week with tickets for the fall festival" pitch is totally dwarfed by his "How many tickets would you like to buy". Let him sell for the remainder of the time.
9:10 am: SAHMFN mission two: Coffee with the other Moms at local coffee shop. Enjoy self. Liking this life. Confessing to other Moms that your plans of making family costume aren't going to happen and must embark on search for Toddler-Sized Superman costume 5 days before Halloween.
10:00 am: Leave to find said costume.
10:20 am: Store one: No costume.
10:35 am: Store two: No costume.
10:36 am: Cursing, text husband with concern. He suggests to Amazon Prime said costume. I wrestle momentarily mentally with supporting local business. We Amazon.
10:37 am: Realizing need zen moment, drive to beautiful fall view you saw en route to yesterday's birthday party to take walk, impressed that it's at least close to your no-costume destinations.
10:45 am: Begin walk.
10:55 am: Realize you haven't seen a soul on your walk in a forest in the city, and a police helicopter is circling. Text husband where you parked in case this doesn't end well.
11:45 am: It ends fine.
12:45 pm: Back to house. Lets nap! All of us!
12:52 pm: Baby: LET'S NOT!
1:03 pm: Well, let's at least shower.
1:20 pm: And remember to defrost that steak for dinner.
1:23 pm: (And cat nap).
3:03 pm: Well, as long as we're awake, let's feel embarrassed about that just napped shower hair, and go pick up the prescription that CVS has been calling about for 2 weeks.
3:15 pm: CVS cannot find said prescription.
3:20 pm: Calls for a VERY LARGE DIET COKE from the McD's drive through and a drive for kid pick up.
3:45 pm: Playground child, not your own, questions your VERY LARGE DIET COKE. You refrain from calling it "mama juice". For now.
4:00 pm: Playground time with oldest after school pickup. Remembered grapes to share with friends. Congratulate self for not only remembering a snack, but having it not be unhealthy.
4:37 pm: Wrestle child off playground to pick up father and sister. He needs to go to bathroom. Send him upstairs alone. You know being Montessori and all.
4:42 pm: Runs down the stairs and declares to everyone that he pooped. Others embarrassed. I cheer, being only the third time at school ever (like in 15 months) this has happened.
5:00 pm-6:15 pm: Minute by minute (literally) tick tock time. Return home, dog walked, dinner going, children manage to remove tape and unpack HUGE box of clothes from Aunt Em, Mom insists on all clothes being returned and refolded, strike of genius remembering where missing ruby slipper from Dorothy costume is, unearth it in closet on first try, kids and dad fed, baby eat. Think that the actual break down in minutes is both depressive and impressive.
6:20 pm: Unapologetic tv time for children.
7:00pm: More unapologetic tv time for children.
7:10 pm: Settle MASSIVE battle about one-balloon-in-house-that-barely-has-helium-in-it.
7:30 pm: Bedtime attempt 1
7:55 pm: Bedtime attempt 2
Reporting live at 9:27 pm: Bedtime attempt 5 is still in action.
(Note, only 2 of 5 of us bathed today. I'm now eating taquitos for dinner. The prescription we actually needed wasn't at CVS. I'm selling festival tickets again tomorrow. And did I mention that we have "BIG SPECIAL HALLOWEENY ANNIVERSARY NON-NORMAL DAYS" for the next our days.
So yea.
I have no idea how we're going to do this when I go back to work.
James thinks I'm killing it.
And that's all that matters for now.
Post-Script Dispatch: Go in at 10:22 pm to change PullUps. A is standing straight up in bed. Wide awake. "YOU GONNA BE TIN MAN MAMA?? I SO EXCITED FOR HALLOWEEN!"
Oif.
It's not bad or good. It's just different.
Nothing makes that more obvious than being in the time of our lives (aka NOW) when everything (and I mean everything) depends on logistics.
I was laying in bed a few weeks ago, talking through the next day, and explained to Shawn it's the "tick tock"
To anyone who worked in events, logistics, political planning, etc... I think this makes sense.
You plan events down to the minute. The minutiae. It matters. You leave time for the applause. But you move the day along. (PS, I totally had to google how to spell minutiae. I'm still not sure it is correct.)
So let's do this. 24 hours in the Edwards life.
I'll start at 9pm last night. So really. 24 hours.
9:03pm: HOLY COW both "big" kids are asleep. In the same room. Realize that this hasn't happened without being separated into different rooms in three weeks. Congratulate self.
9:06pm: Weigh in on online group with inane comment.
9:10-9:20 pm: Refresh, hoping your inane comment was received as funny. Realize this will be a boring part of your tick tock, so tune into 90 Day Fiance.
9:30pm: "Top off" baby with a bottle. Remember that time he slept 9 hours. Can't remember what you did that time, but want to do it again.
9:47 pm. Inane commentary.
9:50 pm: Realize there's laundry in the dryer. Fold it. Be impressed with yourself that you did said laundry. Three loads of it. And folded it! And put it away! Pour a congratulatory cocktail. Cheers!
9:53 pm: Actually, ask husband to put said laundry away. Congratulate him too.
10:02 pm: Point a stumbling kid in a pull-up towards the potty. One of these days he'll be night trained, right?
10:03 pm: Realize you missed all the good bad reality tv. Somehow still stay awake for 90 minutes.
10:10 pm: Send cute picture of the baby to everyone who you think won't be annoyed by it.
10:15 pm: Send cute birthday party pictures to parents of everyone from today's big kid party that you think won't be annoyed by it.
11:30 pm: Have the "why am I still awake" conversation with self. Go to sleep.
2:18 am: WAHHHHHHHH. Think "well that topping off didn't work". Give it 2 minutes. Yea, no. He wants to eat. Have the "maybe I'll only do a bottle tonight" conversation with self quickly. Self loses. Bottle and breastfeed.
2:45 am: Actually fall asleep easily after conversation with self about do-I-need-to-set-alarm. You don't set alarm.
6:05 am: Husband's alarm goes off.
6:13 am: It goes off again.
6:20 am: The baby goes off. &*%$@#$! (That hyperlinked somehow. Leaving it in because I can't wait to see what the heck it links to).
7:00 am: Wake big kids. Have them choose own outfits. Negotiate for one TV show.
7:02 am: Correct one child's choice of a nightgown for school.
7:04 am: Choose said show. The one that is most enjoyable for me.
7:30 am: Kids shoe themselves. I reshoe one. Give them half a banana and half a frozen waffle each. Have a momentary pang of "Most important meal of the day." Dismiss it quickly.
7:32 am: Kids in car. Congratulate self.
7:50 am: A dropped at school including an impressive retelling of the Wizard of Oz that we watched last night. Congratulate self on already procured Dorothy costume for Halloween sold to said 2 year old. Finally. Don't mind that she's calling herself "Princess Dorothy".
8:15 am: At R's school. SAHMFN (Stay at home mom for now) mission one for the day: selling tickets for fall festival. Put kid to work. Realize my socially-awkward, introverted "we'll be here all week with tickets for the fall festival" pitch is totally dwarfed by his "How many tickets would you like to buy". Let him sell for the remainder of the time.
9:10 am: SAHMFN mission two: Coffee with the other Moms at local coffee shop. Enjoy self. Liking this life. Confessing to other Moms that your plans of making family costume aren't going to happen and must embark on search for Toddler-Sized Superman costume 5 days before Halloween.
10:00 am: Leave to find said costume.
10:20 am: Store one: No costume.
10:35 am: Store two: No costume.
10:36 am: Cursing, text husband with concern. He suggests to Amazon Prime said costume. I wrestle momentarily mentally with supporting local business. We Amazon.
10:37 am: Realizing need zen moment, drive to beautiful fall view you saw en route to yesterday's birthday party to take walk, impressed that it's at least close to your no-costume destinations.
10:45 am: Begin walk.
10:55 am: Realize you haven't seen a soul on your walk in a forest in the city, and a police helicopter is circling. Text husband where you parked in case this doesn't end well.
11:45 am: It ends fine.
12:45 pm: Back to house. Lets nap! All of us!
12:52 pm: Baby: LET'S NOT!
1:03 pm: Well, let's at least shower.
1:20 pm: And remember to defrost that steak for dinner.
1:23 pm: (And cat nap).
3:03 pm: Well, as long as we're awake, let's feel embarrassed about that just napped shower hair, and go pick up the prescription that CVS has been calling about for 2 weeks.
3:15 pm: CVS cannot find said prescription.
3:20 pm: Calls for a VERY LARGE DIET COKE from the McD's drive through and a drive for kid pick up.
3:45 pm: Playground child, not your own, questions your VERY LARGE DIET COKE. You refrain from calling it "mama juice". For now.
4:00 pm: Playground time with oldest after school pickup. Remembered grapes to share with friends. Congratulate self for not only remembering a snack, but having it not be unhealthy.
4:37 pm: Wrestle child off playground to pick up father and sister. He needs to go to bathroom. Send him upstairs alone. You know being Montessori and all.
4:42 pm: Runs down the stairs and declares to everyone that he pooped. Others embarrassed. I cheer, being only the third time at school ever (like in 15 months) this has happened.
5:00 pm-6:15 pm: Minute by minute (literally) tick tock time. Return home, dog walked, dinner going, children manage to remove tape and unpack HUGE box of clothes from Aunt Em, Mom insists on all clothes being returned and refolded, strike of genius remembering where missing ruby slipper from Dorothy costume is, unearth it in closet on first try, kids and dad fed, baby eat. Think that the actual break down in minutes is both depressive and impressive.
6:20 pm: Unapologetic tv time for children.
7:00pm: More unapologetic tv time for children.
7:10 pm: Settle MASSIVE battle about one-balloon-in-house-that-barely-has-helium-in-it.
7:30 pm: Bedtime attempt 1
7:55 pm: Bedtime attempt 2
Reporting live at 9:27 pm: Bedtime attempt 5 is still in action.
(Note, only 2 of 5 of us bathed today. I'm now eating taquitos for dinner. The prescription we actually needed wasn't at CVS. I'm selling festival tickets again tomorrow. And did I mention that we have "BIG SPECIAL HALLOWEENY ANNIVERSARY NON-NORMAL DAYS" for the next our days.
So yea.
I have no idea how we're going to do this when I go back to work.
James thinks I'm killing it.
And that's all that matters for now.
Post-Script Dispatch: Go in at 10:22 pm to change PullUps. A is standing straight up in bed. Wide awake. "YOU GONNA BE TIN MAN MAMA?? I SO EXCITED FOR HALLOWEEN!"
Oif.
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