Conversations with My Personal Assistant

The Personal Assistant on why Gigi is here...with boobs:

 

P: Hi Gigi!

Gigi: Hi buddy!

P: Um...you have personals. Are you going to nurse our baby?

Gigi, wide eyed: Ah...no...

P: Then why have you got them? What are you going to do with them? What do you use them for?

Me: Gigi nursed me with them when I was a baby. Mommies just nurse their own babies.

P: Oh!

 

The Personal Assistant on bead work:

"We are making JEWELRY here people! We're not here just playing with beads. This is SERIOUS."

 

The Personal Assistant popcicles for breakfast:

P: Daddy gave me this popcicle for breakfast!

Me: Oh really?

P: No

 

The Personal Assistant on Caffeine:

P: Why do you drink caffeine Mommy?

Me: Because you and your brother have way more energy than I do and it helps me keep up. And I don't get enough sleep...really I should get more sleep.

P: Oh. And you can't sleep because of the caffeine.

 

The Personal Assistant on Gigi's milk supply:

P: Are you going to nurse our baby?

Gigi: No.

P: But you have personals...oh no...Gigi, did your milk dry up?

 

The Personal Assistant on his reflection in the fitting room mirror:

"Oh! I have never looked more handsome!"

 

-Jen

 

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Kid Crafts: Easter Window Clings

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.

 

A (slightly) more sane approach to the holidays

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?)

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.

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.

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.

The Personal Assistant is still in charge of sending replies to Christmas cards, which may or may not be mailed by New Years. I also set him to work planting some paper whites for some easy/kid safe Christmas decor.

That kept him busy long enough for me to bake some egg free, sucrose free, starch free cookies (sounds yum right?) and make a batch of his favorite marshmallows.

(The cookies aren't half bad for my first time trying to make CSID safe/egg free cookies. It only gets better from here right? Besides, I keep telling myself that what he will remember is that I tried.)

The Personal Assistant would like more craft time, and one of the Moms in my CSID support group is stuck in the hospital with two little boys at home. We decided they could use a care package, so we spent the afternoon making Christmas busy bags and testing them. They were easy and lots of fun. I will share more about them later this week.

My dear aunt confessed that they are laughing less at her house these days. She is the point person for co-ordinating care for my Grandfather as he recovers from a fall (he's doing great) and for her daughters-one who is recovering from an AVM and one who has been diagnosed with a rare from of MD. It is a lot. She said she is hanging things on her walls that she loves-or that make her laugh out loud. I can't do much to help from here, but I do have funny pictures, so I spent an evening looking through old and new photos to send to her.

 

 

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.

Merry Christmas, and Peace, and imperfection, and giggles be with you.

-Jen

 

 

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In lieu of a real post, here's an actual conversation that just happened.

No kidding, this really happened:

"I'm hungry, I want to go down stairs."

"I am feeding brother right now, can I get you a snack?"

(The Hubster hands me a bowl of plain yogurt and runs away)

"No I don't want it. I want to go downstairs."

"Well that's not happening right now."

He yells. I yell back (he had me up with him from 1-3:30 last night, I am not in the best mood.) I go to put the yogurt away and get food he likes. He cries. I come back and silently put the food down. He is crying.

"I think I need to say I'm sorry, so I took a time out. I think I wasn't nice to you. Then I thought, 'maybe she is right, maybe it's not time to go downstairs' but it made me mad when I wanted to do something and you said no."

I am thinking, Stop it, you're three, but all I can say is, "Ok. It is ok."

There's no moral here. I am too tired. Just a simple, "holy crap did that just happen?"

-Jen

 

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The fundamental flaw in my parenting style.

Playing with butter

"You LET him do WHAT?"

The thing that people question the most about my parenting is The Mess. It is always about the mess. Not the experience, not the fun, not the learning, the mess. As if one should care about the mess. As if the mess is the most awful thing one could imagine.

If I had a quarter for every incredulous question, raised eyebrow, or disapproving look I would be a rich woman rocking a designer diaper bag.

The Ultimate Evening Continues.

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

 

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The Best Day of My Life

When I was attending a conference at IUPUI the summer after my junior year of high school, some of the college students on campus lamented, "Oh man...enjoy your senior year!  It will be the BEST year of your life!"  And then later adults told me, "Enjoy college, they are the best years of your LIFE!!"  I, admittedly, got married just a handful of days after I graduated from undergrad, and still, people told me, "Enjoy your wedding day, it will be the best day of your entire life!"

Unexpected Grace

This Easter was our first Holiday post-diagnosis, and I was really nervous that it would put a focus on the fact that Kiddo is different. At the risk of repeating myself, it did occur to me that being the Easter Bunny, while allergic to eggs, to a kid who can't eat sugar or starch, was pretty hard! I probably should not have dyed the eggs (but I did, while breast feeding), and I really should not have made meringue cookies (but I did, between breastfeeding and bed time) and that didn't go too well.

Scenes from a C-Section

"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.

Just when you have them figured out...

Recently we’ve been getting compliments on my son’s vocabulary.  This is a new development in the past six months.  Before that, we got questions about why he hated strangers, why he would refuse to speak with people he knew, and why he wouldn’t hug Great-Grandma.  Poor dear Great-Grandma wanted to hold my mammoth boy on her lap like he was still a baby.  Adorable?  Absolutely.  But this was not to be tolerated by the boy.  But my family likes to touch and hug everyone, so by comparison he seemed positively cold.  This prompted many discussions that unfolded a bit like:

We need a joke.

I think my Personal Assistant knows I am stressed.

He rubbed my back today when I burst into tears after the latest bit of "Not terrible, just terribly inconvenient" news and said, "I think you are just having a frustrating day Mommy." Poor kid. He is two-and-a-half and already doomed to a life of unrequited empathy.

Quick Mama Moment

Today I observed my adorable baby, and realized how really grown up he really is.

He was sleepy and I asked, "Do you want me to hold you?"  I got a very polite, "No thanks mama."

Support in the beginning.

I have been a bit absent from the blog this past month or so. I wanted to write, but I have not been feeling up to it. I've been hot and cold, dizzy, achy, crampy, fatigued, nauseous, dizzy, really nauseous, fatigued, more nauseous and did I mention fatigued? Don't worry it's not catching. It's just pregnancy.

Lady Friends

The highlight of my week, my month, happened tonight; Jenny was in town!  Jenny and I used to live together in college.  We perfected the speaking while brushing teeth, laughing until we almost peed, fighting over milk, and dishing about boys while living together. 

But now we live too far apart to visit often, and the "boys" we talk about are our sons, and our gossip consists of family shenanigans and weird produce.  Don't judge, you'd laugh too if you received that parsnip in your CSA! 

Road Trip Baby!

During the summer I hear a lot about vacations from other families. Things like, "I am really looking forward to our trip to the beach, but it is four hours in the car with the kids, ugh." I just giggle to myself. We take a 12 hour car trip with the Personal Assistant twice a year to visit family, and believe it or not, it's mostly enjoyable.

Hush-a-bye Burdie Croon

My four year old is boisterous, opinionated, busy and demanding.  He is creative, curious, shy of strangers but desires to be a leader.   He has no time for cuddles for anyone. 

I couldn't be a mom without coffee

Have you ever desired or needed something so much that you made a fool of yourself in front of others?  I'm about to.  You'll have fun because you'll either know what I mean, or, because you'll know that I know I'm an idiot.  Don't worry, I don't begrudge schadenfreude.

Chant with us

Welcome to Friday!

Sometimes I think my four year old son is a Bodhisattva, back to teach the rest of us how to reach enlightenment. He says things like:

"When I wish upon this star, it is really an angel, and sometimes I like to hear my own dreams because I can fly like an angel even though I don't have wings..."