"Parenthood is magical."
"A new baby changes your life in such unexpected ways."
"Everything is different after you have a baby."
If you are having your first, precious, lovely, perfect child these words will likely be repeated to you over and over by well meaning adults.
If you are having your second child, the conversations get much more fun. So to all my Mommy friends about to have second babies, this one is for you.
Adventure awaits.
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| Protein. |
It's hard to find activities that challenge my 4 year old and engage, but are not hazardous the Mr. Baby (he will eat ANYTHING). This easy peasy no mess craft was great for both of them.
I do not love baby gates. I mean, I love that they allow me to take a shower with the kids safely contained in their play room and keep the baby from falling down the stairs, but they are not pretty. And they rarely fit at the bottom of the stairs. And the good ones are $60 each and they still break quickly. Only two of my gates survived the move-plastic parts broke and I had to salvage parts from two gates to rebuild the gate at the top of the stairs. Boo. I decided to build something a bit more fun (and stylish and cheap) for the first floor gates.
I am aware that the American Association of Pediatrics has some rather prudent guidelines about TV, media, and screen time. Apparently, two hours a day is too much. Kids should be playing, reading, engaging with their environment. I'm cool with the first two, but I could do with a lot less engagement with the environment.
My Personal Assistant's behavior yesterday was so horrible that he has lost TV privileges for an indeterminate period of time. Basically, he can't watch tv or have tech time until he stops asking for it-constantly-at a screaming volume-using phraseology he has not been exposed to under this roof. I am so upset. I really do not know how I will cope.
The following is a true story of what happens when we loose TV privileges. It is not for the faint of heart. You have been warned.
We make most of our own baby food here. It's easy, fresh and cheap, but I think the main benefit is knowing exactly what your baby is eating. Not because I don't trust baby food companies, but because it's just easier when you are introducing new foods. (Also because CSID. But that's a whole other conversation.)
At Christmas the Hubster gave me a Black & Decker smoothie blender. At the time I was all "oh, gee...thanks?" But later I figured out all that it could do and thanked him properly. The best feature of this blender is that it fits on mason jars-which is great for so many reasons. Especially baby food.
So I may have publicized my annual Christmas meltdown this year. Oh well. When you live with small children you learn that melt downs are going to happen. How you recover is what is important.
I recovered by moving my fire hazzard wreaths to the outside of the windows. I may have plugged them in using a string of lights as an extension cord.
The Hubster giggled at me. My Personal Assistant thinks they are "Brilliant!" The Baby laughed and clapped-he'll be the president one day. (Fun fact: I have never lived in a house with exterior lights at Christmas. This feels like a major accomplishment and I could not be more thrilled. And it only took me 30 minutes! I know, I know, it looks like I spent weeks planning and installing this light display, but no. Mere minutes.)
I broke a light bulb while hanging the lights. When I ran out to change it, My Personal Assistant fed Baby...the soles of his shoes. Those brown crumbs are what was left of a perfectly good pair of boots after I left the boys alone with their shoes for less than 3 minutes. Shame on me. (Baby is fine. You don't have to be too smart to be president right?)
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| Baby proof all you want-the first time you leave them alone with something dangerous-like the dreaded shoes-all bets are off. |
| I bought a $5 set of plastic Christmas tree decorations from IKEA (assembly required) and we decorated the tree in Camp Bedroom. Because there is a tree in Camp Bedroom with lights already on it, and Baby can't get to it. |
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| There will be a post about how I painted the birches when I do the next update on Camp Bedroom. |
| I stumbled across an app called Waterlogue that converts your photos to water colors. It is mesmerizing and makes everything look more festive. |
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| It is also making me miss painting. |
| Even the saddest of wreaths. |
| But maybe not bathroom mayhem. Whatever. The rest of this post will be in fake watercolor because it amuses me. |
Looking a photos from this past year the Hubster and I were overwhelmed by how much The Personal Assistant loves "his" Baby. It is written all over his face in every single picture of the two of them. We are taking time to snuggle, and feel thankful, indulge in hobbies, and laugh at our imperfections. It may still be a bit crazy around here, but it is the funny sort of crazy that we can all live with.
I am so over Christmas. O V E R I T. We decided to do "Christmas lite" this year and I can't even hack that.
The Personal Assistant wanted to make his boat float, so for the first time ever, he took my hand and marched me up to the bath. Then he needed to use all of the colors of bath bombs-blue, red and yellow, so the water was a lovely shade of ick. To make bath time complete, I gave him a few big squirts of Crayola finger paint bath soap and dared him to "paint" his penis blue. So it was also the first time since the he could talk that I didn't have to negotiate to "clean his under carriage".
At 4am Himself woke up screaming, I ran to his room to find him in the chair, no pants. He calmly explained the problem: "I need help getting my shirt off so I can sleep in my streakers". He ended up "in his streakers" in our bed at 4:30, and was nearly asleep when Mr. Baby woke up with a full diaper and teething pain. Mr. Baby then proceeded to pee on me during the diaper change, and thus came back to bed to nurse in his streakers, much to Himself's exuberant delight.
Not wanting to have anything to do with his rather hirsute Daddy, Himself snuggled into my back because, as he explained: "Mommy is one of my favorite characters, not Daddy, just Mommy. Let me see your face. No. Turn your head my way. (Backwards) To my cheek. No! Don't put your head that way! (Not backwards) I need your face! Softie! BE QUIET MOMMY IS TRYING TO SLEEP! Now look of me Mommy, look of me." And so passed the wee hours and my last chance to sleep until bedtime tonight.
Laugh all you want. This ain't over kid.
-Jen
Back when Hubster and I were dating long distance, a client asked me to show her step son around town. Ok. Fine. He, knowing absolutely nothing about me or my relationship, spent the evening trying to convince me that the love of my life was cheating on me, and promised to show me 'The Ultimate Evening.' So of course I told the bartender to hold the alcohol on any and every drink I ordered, no matter what I said, and to charge him top shelf prices. Then I went home and called my future Hubster and we laughed and laughed. Fast forward twelve years (!?) later and we still laugh about 'The Ultimate Evening.'
I need a shower. It is how I wake up. It is my five minutes of not touching anyone. It is warm and therapeutic on my aching back that is not used to carrying around these giant milky boobies. I am routinely covered in someone else's pee, or vomit. I sweat profusely at random times cause I have post partum hot flashes. I likely do not smell very nice. I NEED a shower.
The boys don't give a crap. Or actually they do...often, so when everyone is finally fed, and cleanish and happyish. I run to the shower. Only to be called back, naked, to deal with...something. So I made a puzzle. Something new and novel to occupy my 3year old so he would not ask for something for a minute or two, maybe.
"Please, just make it happy" I hear myself say, "Not scary, not like last time." I didn't want to be deciding to have a second C-Section. My doctor was pro VBAC, much safer and healthier for everyone she said. But once again, I am not dialating and baby is not dropping, and he is measuring large. It doesn't look good. We decide a repeat section is the safest course given my history and the current circumstances. My doctor is clearly disappointed for me. I cry a little.
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