The Toddler and the Allium: A Parable

Well, we're already gearing up for our third week of school...

I don't know where the summer went. Wait, scratch that--I know exactly where it went. It went to North Dakota, then South Dakota, then South Dakota again, then Montana... with about a million hours spent on Wyoming highways. And to Home Depot a couple dozen times so we could paint most of the main floor of our house.

Regardless, it went too fast. And as I sit here wondering who put me in charge of the education of these four little goofballs and if it's May yet, I find myself praying for flexibility. No, not the do-the-splits kind--although I guess that would be pretty neat too--the resilience kind.

The allium kind.

We bought our house four years ago last month. When we moved in, the grass was alive and the trees were flourishing--and that was about it. We had no idea what the spring would bring in the yard and front flower/weed bed. That first spring in our house was a glorious surprise. The front bed exploded with flowers that looked exactly like big purple fireworks on a long, straight stem. Google informed me that they were alliums, and I loved them.

Last fall we had to dig up the whole front bed to replace the (non)retaining wall. I salvaged as many of the allium bulbs as I could, with every intention of replanting them. (Maybe I'll finally get around to it this fall... as of right now they're still sitting in a pot in the garage.)

I didn't take a picture of this year's May snow,
but I took a picture of Colette all bundled up to play in it.
She was not a fan.

But lo and behold! This spring up popped at least a dozen alliums. Despite the total upheaval of the retaining wall project, many of the bulbs survived and bloomed right on schedule. Which means, of course, right in time for our annual May blizzard.

That has been the story every spring. The alliums shoot up and blossom, and then we get a heavy spring snow.

But you know what? They don't care.


They bend and bow under the weight of the snow. All seems lost and frozen and destroyed. But then the snow melts, and they go on blooming. Sure, some of them are no longer exactly vertical, but they shrug off the snow and go on being glorious and lovely and springy.

one of my darling allium AFTER the snow melted

On the other side of the flexibility spectrum is Colette. For the last six or so months she has been quite... particular... at bedtime. Some nights more so, some nights less, but in general things have to be exactly right for her to settle down and go to sleep. And of course, the crucial details change from night to night--and sometimes in the middle of the bedtime routine.

Her water bottle must be placed just so.


She must have this blanket and not that one.

She wants a particular book, but she wants to turn the pages randomly back and forth.

The blanket must be covering her feet but not pulled tight around her.


She needs her doll. Her doll must fold her hands while we say prayers. I must acknowledge that her doll is praying with us.

She doesn't want me to pray.

She wants me to say prayers again.

She needs another drink of water.

mornings are rough when you fight bedtime
(it was milk, promise)

She wants me to sing songs. I start with whatever was her favorite last night, but no--she wants row row. So I start singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." She changes her mind and wants uppabove. But halfway through "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" she asks for moon.

You get the picture. I can't even learn and anticipate her demands because they're different every night. This has been going on in roughly the same form for almost a quarter of her life. It has made for many long, frustrating bedtimes. Of course I acquiesce to the little sleep-tyrant, because my mothering motto is "whatever it takes." And that is especially true when it comes to sleep!

After a month or so of the ridiculousness we did start pushing back, and she has gotten much better. She is slowly learning to adapt to conditions that are not exactly to her liking, my sweet, strong-willed little girl.

Colette's bedtime antics forced me to realize something: I am not an allium. I am very particular, strong-willed, totally arbitrary toddler who wants things HER WAY OR ELSE.

this is a perfect summary of her personality:
my fierce, sweet little warrior-princess

When the snow storms of life crush me (or, honestly, even just chill me a little), I don't wait them out patiently and spring back up as best I can to get on with blooming. I cry and scream and kick and yell "NO" and demand something different. Which works about as great for me with God as it does for Colette with me.

I am so far from weathering the storms of my life with consistent trust and patience. But this has been my prayer through the summer and especially now as we begin working our way through the school year. The first weeks have been crazy. Good, but so hard. And I'm already so tired. I feel like the smallest thing is enough to totally derail me--mentally and emotionally. But I know I just need to let go. Adapt. Adjust. Stop wishing it could be some other way right this moment. Be present.

So. Here's to trust, not tantrums--child-like, not childish. Lord, not my will, but yours.

Daybook

Just popping in to say a quick hi and breaking all the blogger rules--no explanations, no promises, no pictures. Are there blogger rules? Like, you have to explain if you come back after a long/unexpected absence, and you have to set goals and tell the whole internet about them to keep you accountable (then offer more explanations when you fail to meet those goals anyway), and always post pictures because posts without pictures are boring and un-pinnable. Is "pinnable" a word? "Pinable"? There's another rule to break...

Whatevs. (And that IS apparently a word because "the computer guys" didn't put a squiggly red line under it, as Michael would say...)

I've missed blogging, but I didn't feel like I had much to say. Especially not after pushing through a rough couple of weeks to meet a deadline at the end of August, recovering for a month, then surviving (mostly, I'm not quite done) another crazy two weeks for the next project. Maybe I'll do a post about all those projects... next year...

But I was inspired and motivated by Bobby's  Weekly Writing in October link-up, especially when she suggested that if we needed something to get us started we could just go with a daybook kind of post. I can do that! I think I can I think I can I think I can... Chug chug chug, puff puff puff puff...

What, you don't randomly start reciting children's books in the middle of conversation?

So, with no further ado, currently I am:

reading
The Anne books, for the zillionth time. I'm on Anne of the Island and almost cried last night when Anne refused Gilbert's proposal. These are books that truly get better every single time, and I just have to read them in autumn. (Michael would tell me I don't "have to," I just really want to. He told me that the other day when I needed coffee. Good gracious.)

Also trying to read Augustine's Confessions. Because I'm ashamed I've never read the whole thing, and every time I read a passage from it for something else it is so beautiful and moving. I'm thinking this is one area where it's not really the thought that counts...

praying
This prayer from St. Augustine:

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. 

Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. 

Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. 

Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. 

Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. 

Amen.

And Psalm 131:

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a child quieted at its mother's breast;

like a child that is quieted is my soul.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time forth and for evermore.

I just "discovered" this psalm and I am totally taken with it. Maybe because I feel like I'm almost never quieted and I am usually occupied with things too great (or at least too much!) for me.

listening

For Colette to wake up. Because teething. Ugh.

around the house

My parents moved in last week! Yes, moved in to stay. No, they're not in poor health (thanks be to God). Yes, we actually just all wanted to live in the same house. There's more to it than that--but it deserves its own post. You know, next year.

We put a lot of (pretty minor but very time consuming) work into the house and yard this summer getting ready for a refinance. And it totally paid off (hahaha, I'm so exhausted look how funny I am). But there's a lot more to do, starting with redoing the retaining wall along the garden/weed bed in front of the house--because the current wall is not doing a particularly good job at retaining and consequently the porch is sinking and starting to pull away from the house. No bueno. So that's next on the list, along with finishing (because planning totally means we've started, right?) the necessary remodeling to turn the basement into a bedroom and living room instead of one giant toy room.

watching

NCIS with Alex. We're almost caught up on Netflix (we took a semi-unintentional hiatus a couple years ago and fell off the wagon). This is some serious relationship-building stuff for us, because if it weren't for NCIS we would probably never have gotten married. Also deserving of its own post--I don't think I've ever told the story here. Man, these daybook things are fantastic for generating post ideas! But remember, no promises.

enjoying

October. It's my favorite. 

Watching Colette's personality and sense of humor continue to emerge. When she's really tired but happy she does this thing where she just shakes here back and forth until she starts leaning and wobbling all over the place. It's hilarious--until she smacks you in the nose with the back of her head.

Watching Michael learn and grow this past month of homeschooling. I love his curiosity (mostly), and watching his mind work is just a delight (mostly).

Listening to John Paul talk--he sounds so much older than 2 1/2. Last Thursday was a really rough morning, and at one point I had gathered all of the kids around me to try to hug all of them at once after having yelled at all of them for--I can't even remember. So rough. But I was crying and apologizing for yelling, and JP just looked at me and said "Is okay Mama. No woozles." Because apparently he thought I was crying because I was scared of the woozles.

Seeing Liam transition from toddler to big boy. He's almost four, so I guess he hasn't really been a toddler for almost a year. But suddenly he's seeming so old. He can be so sweet and so thoughtful, and also so mischievous and so creative. And his delight when he answers a question or sounds out a phonics exercise is the sweetest.

Dabbling in genealogy. So far I've traced ancestors back to Scotland in the early 1700s, Cape May, NJ in the early 1700s, and France and Switzerland in the early 1800s. And I'm pretty sure there's a direct line to William the Conqueror, because I remember reading some of the documents one of my uncles put together when I was in high school and then trying to impress some history-nerd friends with it. If I remember correctly they failed to be properly awed by my distinguished lineage.

And with that, I should probably do the dishes and fold some laundry* before bed. I mean, before Colette needs her 9pm snack, to be followed by her 10pm snack, to be followed by her 3am snack, to be followed by her 5am rise-and-shine routine. Or at least that's how it went last night...

*In the interest of full disclosure, I refused Alex's offer to clean the kitchen and won't let him help me fold the laundry, because those chores are my chance to watch Netflix and as long as there isn't an imminent deadline I would generally rather do them myself. They're almost as much of a luxury as a chore, however bizarre that may be.

Check out the other weekly writings at Revolution of Love, and I'll try to be back here before next Saturday--maybe even with pictures! (Oh wait, no promises!)

Top 10 Reasons My 4 Year Old is Out of Bed--You Won't Believe Number 6!

Sorry, I couldn't resist. Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds internet headlines ridiculous and obnoxious. And yet they are so ubiquitous that I find myself thinking in them... ugh.

Regardless, I really do have 10 reasons to share for why my 4 year old is not in his bed (as he should be). Whether or not number 6 blows your mind... well, nobody else on the internet gets sued for false advertising in their headlines, right? ;)

Without further ado:

10) (any time) "I have to go potty!" Let's just get the obvious out of the way, shall we? But really, no complaints here as I would far rather take him to the bathroom kick Alex out of bed to take him to the bathroom than change his sheets!

9) (3am) "I had a dream that I talked to a stranger and he spit on me." What?! Obviously we need to have another talk about not talking to strangers, but not in the middle of the night!

8) (4am) "I heard ghost/monster/something else noises in the wall." This one always makes me sad because I hate the thought of him being scared... but he gets up and comes into our room to tell us, so he's obviously not too scared. And they have a sound machine, so he can't even hear the house settle or cars outside.

7) (15 minutes after being tucked in) "I can't sleep. Liam's talking to me." He would stop talking to you if you would stop talking to him!

6) (2am) "Daddy! Liam's not in his crib!" Note: Liam has never (knock on wood) climbed out of his crib. After Alex took M back to his room: "Oh, there he is!"

5) (usually the second time he's up after being tucked in) "My covers are in a mess!" Your covers would stay perfectly arranged if you would just stay in bed!

4) (5 minutes after being tucked in) "My bed is broken!" The fitted sheet had come untucked from one corner. Slightly.

3) (5 minutes after being tucked in) "It's being a rough night." It wouldn't be half so rough if you would stay in bed long enough to fall asleep! But let's pray your Guardian Angel prayer anyway...

2) (5 minutes after being tucked in) "I'm having rough dreams." Pretty sure you haven't been having any dreams yet, buddy. But let's pray your Guardian Angel prayer anyway...

1) "Can I be awake?" No! It is still dark outside! Go back to bed and stay there, please!

Photo Dump: John Paul

I can't believe this little guy...
...is already 4 months old. Crazy.

He is such a happy little guy. And for at least a quarter of his life so far he has been an absolutely terrific sleeper (by our standards).

dozing off on his play mat

pictures of sleeping babies are my favorite

more sleeping!

He was sleeping through the night for a couple weeks (so amazing... so very, very amazing), then at about 3 months he went back to waking up once, sometime twice, each night. Not bad at all. And then for the last two weeks or so he has had a really hard time staying asleep. He has slept on his tummy since he was only a couple weeks old and he does not at all like to sleep on his back. Now he rolls over from tummy to back really easily and it is messing with his sleep in a major way. Sad day for Mama. I can't wait for him to figure out rolling back onto his tummy!

One of my favorite things this summer was snuggling and nursing John Paul in bed for an extra hour or so while Alex got up with the bigger boys in the mornings.

carefully propped on his side so he wouldn't wake up immediately

He loves his jumper:

And his grandpa:

He does not love his car seat (again with the being on his back, I think). He's not particularly interested in the pacifier, but it does occasionally help in the car.

are we there yet?

Life is good :)

Sleep, glorious sleep!

Saturday night/Sunday early morning were not particularly impressive in the sleep department for either boy.  I'll confess that I started my Mother's Day feeling just the tiniest bit grumpy.  And a little headachey.  And just plain exhausted.  So kind of a normal day.

But we had an absolutely lovely day yesterday.  The boys were very well-behaved at Mass, we had a relaxed breakfast out, Daddy and the boys spoiled me with a necklace, some earrings, and a new scarf (although I'm pretty sure that Liam believes the necklace is intended solely for his own use and resides around my neck merely to provide him with convenient access to it).  The weather was gorgeous and we spent most of the afternoon and evening outside enjoying it (after a brief--okay, almost two hour--date with my computer to finish getting course pages ready for the summer semester to start today).

So all in all it was a wonderful day.  And then.  AND THEN!

The best Mother's Day present of all: sleep.

Liam went down a bit later than usual, conking sometime around 8:30.  Michael was in bed by 9 (sporting an impressive goose egg on his forehead from running straight into a tree shortly before bedtime).  Alex and I have the hardest time getting to be early on Sunday nights because we are just not ready for the weekend to be over--I think we fell asleep about 11.

And then I woke up to Alex's alarm at 5:15.  And of course I had to get  up and go check on Liam to make sure he was still breathing, and of course he was, and of course I almost couldn't go back to sleep because I was so excited that he slept through the night!!!  (And of course I had to immediately plan out facebook and blog announcements for incredible news!)

He must have sensed that there was a vacancy in the bed though, because he woke up just as Alex was leaving for work.  As usual he seemed more ready (readier? apparently--Chrome spell check says yes...) for the day than I was, but I didn't even mind because he slept through the night!!!  I also didn't mind when M woke up 15 minutes later (a whole hour earlier than he usually does), and then wonder of wonders! Liam fell back to sleep while I went to get M out of his crib and slept for another hour and a half.

Oh please oh please oh please let this be the start of a new and glorious age for our family.  We shall call it The Age of Sleep.  And it shall be wonderful.  And ... okay, I'm getting ahead of myself just a bit... you can look forward to a grumpy, whiny blog post sometime in the near future after we go back to our usual 2-4 hour stretches.

And just to keep the wonderfulness going, Michael alternately snuggled with me and danced to Pavarotti at breakfast.

Now, if the house we're going to see this afternoon (!!!) isn't covered in black mold or falling down or infested with ... I don't know, anything ... we'll call it not just a good day but The Standard of Good Days Forever and Ever AMEN.

These are a few of my favorite things...

This boy.

This boy is 6 months old today.  Can you believe it?  I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the (usual) already/only 6 months paradox.  What a crazy ride.

A crazy sleepless ride, as of late (like, the last month or so).  I'm thinking (hoping?) teething, and when that little bugger pops through we're going to go straight to 6 hour stretches at night (do I dream big or what? but that is seriously my idea of an awesome night).

We're working on solids... sort of.  Liam is not a fan.  Actually he doesn't seem to mind the bananas and sweet potatoes so very much, but he is decidedly not a fan of the spoon unless he gets to hold it.  Perversely he wants nothing to do with one of my favorite inventions ever, the mesh teether.  He's still nursing like a champ and obviously not wanting for lack of nourishment (um, did you see those cheeks in the first picture?) so we're not particularly concerned about his lack of interest in big people food.  M loved pretty much all food from the first taste of bananas at 5 months, but with L I'm thinking we may take a much more laid-back, baby-led weaning approach.

He's been a bit fussier than usual today (again, blaming the still invisible tooth), but generally he is just the happiest little guy.  Like this:

In addition to being tickled, Liam's other favorites include his jumper, the changing table, chewing on anything other than food, and his brother.  Here's his diaper dance:

And this boy.

As discussed before, nap time is always a favorite.  Well, always a favorite for me.  Overall Michael is a great napper, but every now and then (and for really rough weeks sometimes a couple days in a row) he will flat out refuse to nap.  But last week I had a ton I needed to get done for work, and even though I knew it was going to be a napless day (after over an hour of listening to M sing and play in his crib, despite multiple attempts on my part to settle him down and get him to close his eyes and give the nap a chance) I just left him in his crib so I could get my work done.  Liam was sleeping, and Michael was more or less happy, and I needed nap time.  After a while I realized I wasn't hearing any noises from M's room any more, so I stuck my head in to make sure he wasn't up to any mischief, and the above picture is what I found.  He had thrown everything except his pillow out of his crib, and eventually fell asleep under his pillow.  What a lovely surprise.

This week Michael has decided he has had enough of a Mama who tries to finish the sentence (or two, I'll admit) she is reading before responding to whatever incredibly important thing he is saying.  Michael's newest way to get my attention: Mama!  MAMA!  OOO-HOOO!   And now he'll do it forever because I've thoroughly positively reinforced the behavior by laughing my head off the first time he did it.

Puzzles are another current favorite with the big boy.  Michael + puzzles = so much fun.  He has thoroughly mastered his two Thomas puzzles, so we broke out some new ones this week.  Here's a video of him putting one of them together pretty much all by himself.  The whole thing takes a little over ten minutes, but the first minute or so will give you the general idea (find it? fit? fit? no... find it!)

Love my boys so much... even with all of the ooh-hoos! and non-sleeping.  Thank you Lord for these little boys! :)

Sweet dreams

This is my favorite.  Ever.  I will never, ever, ever, EVER get tired of seeing my boys asleep.  Not even when they are teenagers and I can't get them to get out of bed at noon no matter how hard I try or what I bribe them with.  (Okay, maybe then.  But probably not.)

I'm kind of obsessed with sleep.  Is that a normal parent thing?  Probably...  I remember in college when I would voluntarily only get four hours of sleep a night, sometimes for several nights in a row.  I mean, I had to hang out with friends and then when I got home at midnight there was still that geography exam the next same day for which I hadn't studied at all yet (until I figured out that Geography 101 or whatever it was was actually the easiest class ever and required approximately zero studying).  Bedtime at 2am, followed by class at 8?  No problem.  Stay up all night to write a 15 page paper?  That's why they invented coffee!  But no one tells you that your dependence on the wonders of caffeine will just mock you when you have an infant, because that darling little breastfeeding baby will suck out all of your caffeine and will never ever sleep!  At least mine seem to do that...

Oh, what I wouldn't give to go back and sleep when I had a chance.  I think I'll be tired forever.  But you know, it's one thing for me to realize that on my own, and it's a whole other thing for more experienced parents to hear me mention being tired and inform me that it won't change for a very, very long time.

I am thankful that Liam sleeps much better than Michael did.  But even so, he still only catnaps during the day.  And ever since his mega-cold (which I am thankful was no worse than it was!) he doesn't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time at night.  I've given up checking the clock in order to calculate how long he's slept and how many times he's woken up.  I just check in order to try and hold out against bringing him to bed with us until after 5.  That's failed at least twice in the past week...  And Michael still wakes up during the night at least a couple times a week.  I honestly doubt if I'll ever sleep through the night again.

So, Ashley, is there a point to this?  No, not really.  Just a couple of cute pictures of my boys fast asleep, and a bit of lamenting that they don't do it more often/consistently/together.

Happy Lent!

Oh, Lent doesn't start until Wednesday?  Well, it started early for our family.  Last night the boys--both of whom are suffering from nasty little colds--decided that as a family we should give up sleep for the good of our souls.  Or something like that.  I'm going to keep on believing that they just want holy parents, because it almost makes it easier.  Almost.

Here's a summary of our (thankfully atypical) night:

7:30pm  We arrive home from cousin Caraline's 7th birthday party, tired, coughing, runny noses, but mostly happy.

8:00pm  Liam is more or less asleep after nursing for ever (oh, only 20 minutes? close enough).  Alex rocks him while I read our half chapter of Narnia to Michael for bedtime.  We pray Night Prayer and sing our Salve without incident.

8:20pm  Both boys are dosed with Tylenol, in bed, asleep.  Alex goes downstairs to kill aliens for a while (on the computer, as far as I know), and I sit down to the ever exciting game of "how much milk can I pump tonight?" as we try to build up a stash to allow us to go out for a super long date night next weekend.  I say "we" like it's a joint effort... Alex does provide moral support... Michael sort of provides moral support as well, or at least is highly entertained whenever I get milk for "Elmo."

10:39pm  After staying up later than intended enjoying some much-needed time to ourselves, Alex and I finally settle down for the night.  Or so we think.

10:40pm  Michael wakes up and not happy.  Alex goes to get him, and after listening to crying, coughing, and some very pathetic Mama! Mama!s from the other room for about five minutes, I go in to help.  Michael calms down with me, and I send Alex to bed while I settle M back down.

10:50pm  M is back to sleep, and I head back to bed.

11:00pm   I come back to our room to discover Alex rocking an awake and not very happy L.  I take over and send Alex back to bed, and L starts nursing like he's never going to eat again.

11:25pm  M wakes up again.  Alex goes and puts him back down.

11:40pm  Alex comes back to bed.  L is done nursing, but sleeping very fitfully and I can't put him down yet.

11:45pm  M wakes up again.  I hand off L to Alex and I go to put M back down.

11:50pm  I get M back to sleep and come back to sit with Alex while L finishes settling down.

11:57pm  L is finally fast asleep and lets Alex put him down.  We finally get to go to bed.

2:00am  M wakes up.  Alex goes to get him, and I follow with another dose of Tylenol.  When M sees me he decides he wants me instead of Alex, so I send Alex back to bed.

2:13am  I go back to bed and lie there waiting for L to wake up, because that's just what's likely to happen.

4:30am  L wakes up hungry.

5:00pm  I put a sleeping L down and he wakes up immediately.  I take him to bed with me and he falls back to sleep.

5:58pm  L wakes up again, but goes back to sleep after nursing for a few minutes.

6:30am  Our alarm goes off.  Time to get ready for Mass.

So, according to the Parents' Sleep Index I'm only functioning on a little over an hour of sleep.  Ergo, early Lent.

The Big 0-3

Three months old already... and just where did that time go?!

Liam is growing like a weed.  A cute, cuddly, very very smiley weed.  He is easily one of the happiest babies I've ever seen.  Unless it's naptime/bedtime and he's not asleep when he wants to be, he is just all smiles and giggles.  Pretty much all you have to do is maintain eye contact long enough (with a smile of your own, of course) and he'll give you all sorts of flirty smiles.  Of course, he wouldn't smile for me when I wanted to take a 3 month picture of him--and my batteries in my camera died completely after I snapped a couple quick shots, so I didn't have time to coax a smile out of him.

To celebrate turning 3 months old on Sunday he rolled over from his tummy onto his back.  I was also hoping for some sort of exciting sleep milestone about which to blog as well, but no such luck at all this week.  He has increased his average nap length from 30 minutes to ~45, but night sleep hasn't been very impressive for the last couple weeks.  Granted, getting up with him 2-3 times between 7:30 and 5, and then bringing him to bed with me until 7-8 is a whole lot better than where we were with Michael at 3 months; but he's had several nights with 6+ hour stretches, and I'd really just love for that to become regular.

Michael is an absolute champ of a big brother.  For the most part he's very gentle with and affectionate towards Liam (and I realize that for a 2 year old those two things often don't go together).  Liam already adores his big brother, and if I ever get my act together and get video from my camera onto the computer I have a really cute video of the two of them laughing together to post.

People often ask if the boys look alike.  My answer is yes and no.  What do you think?

Using the same outfit for both 3 mo pictures,
how clever am I?

The first five weeks

I can't believe our little Liam will be five weeks old tomorrow.  These first weeks have just flown by; and despite Liam sleeping much better than Michael did, they are still a bit of a sleep-deprived blur.

Is it bedtime yet?

The first week went really well.  Alex got a week off from work, and we all got to work on learning to be a family of four together.  Alex's time off went by way too quickly, of course.  I was not a happy camper about him going back to work--as easy of a baby as Liam seemed to be, I was not at all excited about handling two boys sans Daddy all day long, even with the available help of Cici, Papa and Nick.

As usual, the reality wasn't nearly as bad as my anticipation of it.  At least, it would have been just fine except for the fact that after a week of feeling like this second recovery was just wonderful my back suddenly started to hurt.  A lot.  To the point where I could barely walk, let alone pick up a toddler.  Thank God for Alex's mom--I literally didn't pick up Michael or change any of his diapers for a week.  I could still carry around all 8+ pounds of Liam, but that was about it.  Sitting on the couch or recliner was bearable, but that was about it.  Every spare moment between nursing Liam and reading to Michael was spent on the floor stretching or, for a glorious 45 minutes or so several days in a row, in a hot bath.

After three days of this with no improvement I called my doctor to get her recommendation on whether I should see a physical therapist or chiropractor or something, please, anything to allow me to be able to move somewhat normally again.  After explaining that, yes, I realized that back pain was normal after labor but I was pretty sure this needed some extra attention since my right hip was noticeably higher than my left him when I felt like I was standing straight, she recommended a physical therapist.  The bad news: I couldn't get in to see him for a week.  Oh joy.

So after a week of stretching and moving as little as possible, I finally got to my PT appointment.  Turns out my right hip had shifted forward sometime before/during/after labor, but that was pretty normal.  The physical therapist did some adjustments and sent me home with a regimen of stretches and exercises to keep it from happening again.  The difference was amazing!  My back immediately felt about a zillion times better.  It took another week or so to start really feeling normal again and still gets tight and sore pretty easily, but I have a renewed appreciation for the ability to do simple things like get up from a chair without pain.

My parents came out from Lincoln to visit us for Thanksgiving.  We had an amazing week with them, and Michael was absolutely in heaven having Grandma and Grandpa around.  I got pretty darn spoiled myself with my parents there eager to rock Liam when he finished nursing and read Thomas and the Big, Big Bridge over and over (and over and over) again to Michael.

Michael graciously took a break from Thomas to let
Grandma read her favorite book to him: Dr. Seuss' ABCs

I think it gets harder to say goodbye to them every time we have to do so, and I'm already counting down to a tentative January visit from my mom and an Easter trip to Lincoln.

With my parents at Liam's baptism

Thus far Liam is a pretty easy baby; he eats, sleeps, poops, and... well, that's pretty much it.  He doesn't cry a whole lot and is easily soothed when he does.  Last night he slept for 4 1/2 hours straight.  I'm almost afraid to write about how easy he has been so far--partly because I don't want to jinx it, and partly because I think I feel a bit guilty that he's so easy.  It's a weird pride thing.  With Michael being so adamantly anti-sleep we got a fair bit of sympathy and I could look at moms with easy, sleeping babies with envy and think about how much harder I had it.  Now that I'm the mom with the incredibly content baby who sleeps when he's supposed to, I feel guilty for having an easier time than all those other parents out there who are sleeping less and soothing more.  I don't know if it makes sense, but I'll just chalk it up to pride (and the incoherent explanation to the fact that sleeping for two-three hours at a time, while better than 45 minutes, still isn't enough) and just be thankful that Liam is so easy and content.  And I'll enjoy it while it lasts, because goodness knows it might not!

Love love LOVE those milk-drunk smiles :)

But regardless of his temperament and sleep habits, whenever anyone asks if he's a "good baby" my answer will always be "Yes!"  That was also my answer with Michael: "Is he a good baby?"  "Yes, of course!"  "So he's sleeping well?"  "No, not at all..."  What, like I'm going to say "No, actually, he's not a good baby at all.  Somehow I got a bad baby.  Too bad I can't exchange him..." ?  I suppose people are really asking if he's an easy baby, but as long as the question is "Is he good?" then then answer will always be "Yes!"

Michael is being an amazing big brother to Liam (who, incidentally, he still won't call by name, just "Baby").  He has been incredibly patient (for a toddler) with the adjustment and this strange new situation where Mama can't always pick him up or get him milk or read Thomas and the Big, Big Bridge exactly when he asks for it (even when he asks so politely and says "Pees!").  When Liam cries Michael often goes over to him and gently shushes him, and he is very concerned whenever he notices that Liam has spit out his "'fier"--and tries to replace it (unless I catch him first).

Clearly he needs his 'fier.

Much better!

We absolutely love being a family of four now.  Having a toddler and an infant is both harder and easier than I expected.  It's harder because I don't think anything can fully prepare one for the drain of absolutely constant demands on one's attention.  But it's also easier than I expected because even though the things I thought would be so hard really are hard, I'm surviving them much better than I expected.  That is due entirely to the prayers and support of my family and friends!!!

Wait, who stuck me with this crazy family?

Long Days and Short Nights--An Ode to the Third Trimester

Okay, not really an ode.  More of a rant.  Or a plea for sympathy.  Or something like that.

I almost wrote this post at 1:30 this morning when, yet again, I woke up from my first couple hours of perfect sleep to a seemingly interminable period of tossing and turning.  It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t—it would have been really whiny instead of just kinda-sorta whiny.  And I’m several sips into the best latte I’ve ever had, so that will help considerably as well.

Some overdue updates

I feel like I am woefully behind on blogging, but when I think back over the last few months I can’t think of a whole lot about which to blog.  The really newsworthy stuff wasn’t any fun to go through and still isn’t any fun to think about, hence no in-depth blog entries on Michael’s awful bout of croup in January (complete with a night in the hospital), his ear infection in early February (thankfully he takes pretty much any kind of medicine like a champ, except for generic orange-flavored acetaminophen), and his current case of cough/congestion (heading into our second week of it—I’m watching him like a hawk for the slightest indication that it’s more than a cold… again).  But through it all he’s such a happy little guy, even when he’s feeling crummy, that I’m constantly reminded to be thankful that it isn’t worse.  Unfortunately feeling thankful that it isn’t worse serves as a reminder that it could be worse, and then I have to stop before I work myself into a panic over all the possibilities (most of them ridiculous).

The silver lining to all of this is that despite feeling crummy for a good part of the last two months, Michael has started sleeping better.  And by “better” I mean he hasn’t woken up more than twice in one night in at least two weeks, maybe three.  We have also finally broken into the double digits for times he has slept through the night, which is wildly exciting.  This means that oh-so-slowly Alex and I feel like we are starting to catch up on well over a year’s worth of missed sleep.  Or at least Alex would be catching up if he could shake the cough/cold he’s had since the beginning of December, and I would be catching up if I didn’t wake up to Michael’s cough at 4:30, wonder if it’s turning into croup, and then not be able to calm down enough to fall back to sleep before the alarm goes off at 5:40.

Yes, 5:40.  AM.  Part of the price of those wonderful summer months of freedom is that Alex leaves for work before 7am most mornings—and for Lent we gave up the snooze button AND I am getting up with him even on the days when I don’t have to go in to work.  The idea was to practice discipline by getting up early (with a joyful attitude, in theory) and practice order in my life by having some quiet time before Michael wakes up.  In reality that has happened maybe twice so far, and the other days I have barely managed to drag myself out of bed wondering if it’s Easter yet.

And these days which are starting earlier due to Lent are ending later thanks to soccer season.  Alex is assistant coach for the girls’ JV team again this year, and while he loves the sport and I love watching him love it, coaching is not particularly easy on us as it means Alex gets home between 6:00 and 6:30 most evenings instead of by 4:00.  It seems a bit whiny to complain about an extra two hours a day—and it’s only for two months—but oh boy are those a long two hours!  Particularly since that that is the time of day when a) I have rather pressing things to do in the kitchen like cook dinner, and b) Michael has a pronounced dislike for me being in the kitchen unless I am holding him.  If I am trying to do something in the kitchen he will follow me around insisting that I pick him up, but if I take him into the living room and sit down to play with him, he wanders off to a different part of the living room to play by himself.  It’s not so much that he wants my attention, he just doesn’t want the kitchen to have my attention.  If he feels this way about a room in our apartment, imagine how he’ll feel about a sibling someday!  (No, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to be a big brother when that day comes, God willing, just not around dinner time).  One activity which (sometimes) reconciles him to allowing me to cook dinner is playing in "his" cupboard—literally.

The other activity which keeps him happy in the kitchen is playing with a bowl full of soapsuds.  This brilliant idea came from a friend who is way better at thinking up activities for little ones than I am (which doesn't take much, but she is seriously talented at it), but I think her son is much less likely to put anything and everything in his mouth than my son is.  After Michael ate half of the last batch of soapsuds before I caught him (creating a very impressive Santa-style beard) we will no longer be using dish soap for this activity, but rather baby soap.  At least that is manufactured with the possibility that it will be ingested in mind.

All in all we are staying busy (or at least Alex is busy, and therefore I feel busy, and Michael is always finding new things to do/get into, and therefore I feel even busier).

Sleep Saga

When Michael was born I was mildly horrified by the idea of putting him in his crib in the nursery and letting him cry himself to sleep.  For the last four months Michael has been sleeping - when he sleeps at all - either in a bassinet at the foot of our bed or in bed with us.  It made me feel so much better to have him in the same room with us.  If I woke up during the night I could fall back asleep to the sound of his breathing.  When he woke up I could usually get to him before he went from fussing to crying, and I could bring him back to bed to nurse in comfort - or at least convenience.  The two nights (over a month and a half ago) that he slept for longer than five hours at one stretch I didn't have to rush to the other room to check on him when I woke up and realized how long it had been.  At our two month checkup the pediatrician strongly recommended that I stop nursing Michael to sleep and put him down in his bassinet drowsy but awake - but there was no way I was letting him cry himself to sleep at two months!  I told myself that if he wasn't sleeping really well by August when Alex was preparing to go back to school then we might try crying it out (CIO) to enable us to start the new school year well rested.

These last five or six weeks that he has been waking up every one to two hours and nursing for what has seemed like forever to get back to sleep I have been able to doze off in bed while he nursed instead of being up for an hour at a time (usually resulting in him staying in bed with us for much of the rest of the night in a desperate attempt to get him to stay asleep).  But slowly my attitude began to change... and about two weeks ago Alex and I decided that we would try CIO at the end of May when Alex was done with school and we could deal with the possibility of a couple completely sleepless nights (instead of the current mostly sleepless nights for me and partially sleepless nights for him).

That plan went out the window Thursday night when Michael took forever to stay asleep when putting him down at bedtime (for the umpteenth night in a row) and then proceeded to wake up at least every hour.  After spending over an hour trying to nurse him back to sleep at 5:30am and recovering from the ensuing emotional breakdown, I told Alex that was it - we needed a change no matter what it took.  And thus we commenced Operation CIO starting with naps on Friday.

The first nap was not impressive - forty minutes of screaming off and on followed by about 25 minutes of sleeping.  I checked on him every fifteen minutes to make sure he hadn't wedged himself into an uncomfortable tangle in the corner of his bassinet and reassure him I still loved him - although I am convinced that checking on babies during CIO is more to make the parents feel better than the babies.  The second nap was much more encouraging - only fifteen minutes of crying followed by another twenty five minutes of sleep.  While he was screaming/napping I worked in the nursery - thankfully my nesting phase finally hit on Friday (only about five months later than it was supposed to) and I cleaned up and rearranged the room so it actually looks and feels like a functional nursery and not like an incredibly messy storage room (pictures to follow once we get rid of the remaining pile of boxes and hang pictures on the walls - possibly in another five months).  So Friday night we were able to combine CIO with transferring Michael from the bassinet in our room to the crib in his new room.

I expected to go through several nights of Michael crying for hours on end throughout the night, and me crying it out from my bedroom feeling like a terrible mother for not comforting him.  Instead Michael fell asleep after crying for about half an hour, and proceeded to have a night that was, on average, better than he had for the last couple weeks.  When I put him back in his crib after nursing he whimpered and then promptly fell back to sleep.  I was amazed.  It was as if all my prayers for his sleep these past six weeks were suddenly answered at once.  And Saturday night was even better - Michael cried for twenty minutes and then only woke up three times between 8:30pm and 7:30am.  I got to sleep for five hours straight for the first time in... I can't even remember how long.  Maybe two months.  And it was only the third time I've gotten that much sleep at one time since he was born (actually since well before he was born, as I was getting up every two hours to go the bathroom for at least the last trimester of pregnancy!).

So I am absolutely a CIO convert now.  But I am glad we waited as long as we did.  Maybe Michael would have been ready for it before four months, but I certainly wasn't.  I needed these last several miserable weeks of sleeplessness to allow me to have absolute peace that this was the right thing to try at this point.  And that peace is also due to the loving support and encouragement of family and friends - and no thanks to the multiple books and websites I consulted in an attempt to research ways to help Michael sleep better.  The only thing I learned from those websites was that he was (according to the experts on the respective ends of the spectrum) apparently destined to have some sort of complex about sleep regardless - if I let him cry it out he would feel abandoned and hate bedtime for the rest of his life, and if I didn't let him cry it out he would never learn to fall asleep on his own and so would hate bedtime for the rest of his life.  Stupid internet :)

Our sleep difficulties were peaking right around the beatification of John Paul II on May 2nd.  So Alex decided to start asking the intercession of Blessed JPII as the patron of Michael's sleep.  We praise God for the answer to prayers and continue to pray for consistent, adequate sleep for all three of us.  JPII, pray for us!

A day of firsts

Today was a day of firsts.  I got to watch Alex coach for the first time, and Michael went to his first soccer game ever.  I got my first taste of being a soccer mom (even though mine is several years from playing yet!).  Michael was a big hit with the moms of both teams and flirted outrageously with several new friends.  The girls were victorious, making the outing just about perfect.  I, however, lost yet another match with the Colorado sun. It was cool and cloudy when we left this morning, but I should know better than to trust that - it ended up being sunny and quite warm for the entire game.  Very pleasant weather with some not-so-pleasant consequences.  Thankfully Michael escaped unscathed.  I shared my hat with him (wish I had my camera!) and used my nursing cover to provide him with some shade when he got tired of the hat falling over his entire face.

After the game all three of us got to take a nap together - another first, and something I hope will reoccur often.  It wasn't a very long nap (Michael's naps never are) but it was much-needed by all three of us.

And finally, Alex beat me in Battleship for the first time ever.  He is quite pleased with himself and I must say I am extraordinarily proud of him.  I knew something was going to be different when he found my patrol boat midway through the game - another first :)  Michael cooperated by going down by 7:45 and only waking up twice afterwards.  I have high hopes for a better night than last night... but then again almost anything is better than being up almost every hour and a half!

And now it looks like Alex and I will be able to get to bed by ten - not truly a first, but the first time in the last several nights :)