At this time, one year ago, I was resting comfortably with my epidural.
My first contraction came at 3:34am, I decided it was "the real thing" and woke Steve up at 4:45, and we arrived at the hospital at 6. I was already 6cm, and received my epidural at 6:30am.
I rested in bed, playing Sudoku and texting friends letting them know that my Christmas baby was on his way!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Poor Logan
Why do my kids always seem to get really sick right around their birthday?
My first clue that Logan might be coming down with something came on Tuesday morning, when he took a 3 hour nap. He would have slept longer, but I woke him up because I was getting a little nervous. He didn't have a fever... yet. He was happy as ever all day, but seemed to get very fussy right around 5pm. He even put his head down on my shoulder and fell asleep - I can't even remember the last time that happened. He hasn't napped on me like that since he was a newborn.
By 6:00, his fever was close to 100. For someone who's never had a fever before, that's high. I gave him some Tylenol, which he promptly brought right back up, along with his dinner (which, fortunately, was just yogurt, so it was fruity-smelling puke. Yum.) and took him right up to bed. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep before I was out of the room. Poor thing.
He was miserable all day Wednesday (yesterday). In addition to the 3 naps he took in his crib, he took at least 5 catnaps on me, with his little head on my shoulder. Is it terrible of me to say that I secretly enjoyed it? I mean, Logan is snuggly in general, but not like this. I felt closer to him than I have in a long time.
He did have two "happy" periods yesterday, which were truly enjoyable - he was his normal, happy self, playing with his toys and Ben. It was amazing to see, though, how quickly he deteriorated back to a miserable little lump who just wanted to be held.
In the evening, his fever spiked up to 102.7. When he woke up at 3am, it was 103. He had the chills. I was terrified, and thought I'd have to call 911 because he was having a febrile seizure. Luckily he calmed down a bit after a dose of Tylenol and a cuddle with me in the glider.
This morning I took him to the doctor while Ben was at school. I told the doctor that my guess was Roseola, as Ben had it last week. For some reason, the doctor really wanted to rule out a urinary tract infection. She said we could either do the test, which consisted of a catheter being inserted into Logan's urethra (ureter? I don't know.), drawing a urine sample to be sent to a lab. She said that it would be less painful than drawing blood. She said we could hold off a day if I wanted to, but I'd have to bring him back tomorrow if his fever did not go down. Honestly, the prospect of schlepping both Ben and Logan to the doctor tomorrow, when we're supposed to get blanketed in 6-10 inches of snow, was so not appealing... so I opted to do the procedure right then and there. The doctor was thrilled, I was terrified.
The whole thing was pretty dreadful. I had to hold Logan down, which he hates. Actually, "hold" is the wrong word. "Pin" is more fitting - I leaned my whole upper body down over him, gripping his forearms with my hands, and holding his legs open and back up by his sides with my right arm. What a terrible position for him to have to be in. He squirmed mightily when the catheter was inserted, screamed the entire time, and writhed again when it was withdrawn. The poor thing just wanted to be picked up and cuddled afterwards.
Ugh. I have a friend who has to do that regularly with her two-year-old daughter. She has always said that it's traumatic - now I really understand what she means.
Anyway... it's my hope that Logan's fever gets better over the next few days and that he eventually develops the red pin-dot rash of Roseola. God knows the poor thing doesn't need any more traumatic trips to the doctor!
My first clue that Logan might be coming down with something came on Tuesday morning, when he took a 3 hour nap. He would have slept longer, but I woke him up because I was getting a little nervous. He didn't have a fever... yet. He was happy as ever all day, but seemed to get very fussy right around 5pm. He even put his head down on my shoulder and fell asleep - I can't even remember the last time that happened. He hasn't napped on me like that since he was a newborn.
By 6:00, his fever was close to 100. For someone who's never had a fever before, that's high. I gave him some Tylenol, which he promptly brought right back up, along with his dinner (which, fortunately, was just yogurt, so it was fruity-smelling puke. Yum.) and took him right up to bed. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep before I was out of the room. Poor thing.
He was miserable all day Wednesday (yesterday). In addition to the 3 naps he took in his crib, he took at least 5 catnaps on me, with his little head on my shoulder. Is it terrible of me to say that I secretly enjoyed it? I mean, Logan is snuggly in general, but not like this. I felt closer to him than I have in a long time.
He did have two "happy" periods yesterday, which were truly enjoyable - he was his normal, happy self, playing with his toys and Ben. It was amazing to see, though, how quickly he deteriorated back to a miserable little lump who just wanted to be held.
In the evening, his fever spiked up to 102.7. When he woke up at 3am, it was 103. He had the chills. I was terrified, and thought I'd have to call 911 because he was having a febrile seizure. Luckily he calmed down a bit after a dose of Tylenol and a cuddle with me in the glider.
This morning I took him to the doctor while Ben was at school. I told the doctor that my guess was Roseola, as Ben had it last week. For some reason, the doctor really wanted to rule out a urinary tract infection. She said we could either do the test, which consisted of a catheter being inserted into Logan's urethra (ureter? I don't know.), drawing a urine sample to be sent to a lab. She said that it would be less painful than drawing blood. She said we could hold off a day if I wanted to, but I'd have to bring him back tomorrow if his fever did not go down. Honestly, the prospect of schlepping both Ben and Logan to the doctor tomorrow, when we're supposed to get blanketed in 6-10 inches of snow, was so not appealing... so I opted to do the procedure right then and there. The doctor was thrilled, I was terrified.
The whole thing was pretty dreadful. I had to hold Logan down, which he hates. Actually, "hold" is the wrong word. "Pin" is more fitting - I leaned my whole upper body down over him, gripping his forearms with my hands, and holding his legs open and back up by his sides with my right arm. What a terrible position for him to have to be in. He squirmed mightily when the catheter was inserted, screamed the entire time, and writhed again when it was withdrawn. The poor thing just wanted to be picked up and cuddled afterwards.
Ugh. I have a friend who has to do that regularly with her two-year-old daughter. She has always said that it's traumatic - now I really understand what she means.
Anyway... it's my hope that Logan's fever gets better over the next few days and that he eventually develops the red pin-dot rash of Roseola. God knows the poor thing doesn't need any more traumatic trips to the doctor!
Friday, December 5, 2008
It's not even 9am...
And I'm already exhausted from today. I just want to put the boys in their rooms, where I know they'll be safe, then crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and just... I don't know - sleep, or cry, or relax, or something else.
Already today, I've said "no" to Ben about 200 times, peeled Ben off of Logan because he was playing too rough, put all of the clean sippy cups back into the sippy cup drawer after the boys emptied it, poured Ben a second cup of milk because the cup I put the first one in wasn't the "right" one, and most recently wondered if I should take Logan to the ER when he got a nose bleed after falling onto the plastic bin that holds blocks.
Argh... is it 5:00 yet?
Already today, I've said "no" to Ben about 200 times, peeled Ben off of Logan because he was playing too rough, put all of the clean sippy cups back into the sippy cup drawer after the boys emptied it, poured Ben a second cup of milk because the cup I put the first one in wasn't the "right" one, and most recently wondered if I should take Logan to the ER when he got a nose bleed after falling onto the plastic bin that holds blocks.
Argh... is it 5:00 yet?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Fall
No, this is not a post about how lovely the air smells this time of year, or the wonderful family celebrations to be had in November, or how the trees go so quickly from lush and thick and green to spindly and twiggy and stark in the seeming blink of an eye.
No... unfortunately it's about a different kind of fall - the kind I had today, down the 5 or so steps that lead to the garage, while I was holding Logan. Awesome!
I actually have no idea how it happened. I must have made the exact same trip - no pun intended - down the stairs at least a hundred times since we've moved into the house. Logan goes in my left arm, my purse in my right, and we walk down the stairs. Easy peasy.
But today something happened on either the last stair or the ground and the next thing I knew Logan and I were flying through the air. I somehow managed to prevent Logan's poor little head from smashing into the concrete floor of the garage - he just skimmed it. It seems like I mostly landed on my knees, with my feet under me, but my top half kept going forward when I hit the ground. That's what made Logan's head almost hit the floor. Ugh.
It was awful. I had to actually sit there, in the position I landed in, still holding Logan, for a few minutes to make sure we were both okay and regain my composure before I felt like I could stand up. Once I was pretty sure that neither of us had broken any bones or needed stitches or had concussions, I sat Logan down on the floor and got up. My knees and left ankle were sore, but not seriously hurt.
What an ordeal! My knees still ache and I've got some good bruises developing. I have no idea how I didn't sprain my left ankle, as it was twisted under me when I landed.
As I was examing myself, I realized that the left knee of my jeans had torn. This is going to sound so superficial, especially in light of the post I wrote last night about rich people and homeless people and the idea of taking things for granted, but I was really sad when I saw my jeans were torn. They're not my favorite jeans, but they're probably my most expensive ones, and this is only the second or third time I've worn them. I'm not upset that the jeans themselves are torn, I'm upset because I wasted money on jeans that are now torn. Does that make sense?
Anyway, here are some pictures from the crime scene -
That's the skid mark where my left knee hit the floor and then skidded forward. It's blue, from the aforementioned pricey jeans. I wonder if the value of my house just went up, because the garage floor now has expensive jean residue on it?
That's the hole in my jeans. I couldn't decide which picture made the hole look more impressive so I included both. :)Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Update on the boys
I realized earlier today that it's been a while since I gave an update on the boys' new milestones and interesting new... um... quirks. Well, here you go -
Logan-
He learned how to crawl up the entire flight of stairs a few weeks ago
We installed baby gates blocking the entrance to the foyer shortly thereafter :)
He can, using someone or something to get into a standing position, stand by himself for at least 30 seconds
Yesterday he took his first step! Hooray!
He can say uh-oh, no no, hi, and hello
Ben-
He is DEEPLY immersed in the terrible twos
He spends his entire day doing the exact OPPOSITE of what I ask
He's still using three word sentences, which are adorable
His voice can get so unbelievably high-pitched that it makes my ears and throat hurt, and I swear the neighborhood dogs can hear him
Logan-
He learned how to crawl up the entire flight of stairs a few weeks ago
We installed baby gates blocking the entrance to the foyer shortly thereafter :)
He can, using someone or something to get into a standing position, stand by himself for at least 30 seconds
Yesterday he took his first step! Hooray!
He can say uh-oh, no no, hi, and hello
Ben-
He is DEEPLY immersed in the terrible twos
He spends his entire day doing the exact OPPOSITE of what I ask
He's still using three word sentences, which are adorable
His voice can get so unbelievably high-pitched that it makes my ears and throat hurt, and I swear the neighborhood dogs can hear him
Who is here?
Who is visiting my blog?! I added the little counter thingie to see if anyone besides me reads this... and it seems that they do! Although no one leaves comments :( So, who is here??
The Secret Millionaire
Is anyone else watching this show tonight? The premise is that they take a multi-millionaire and have him/her live below the poverty line for 3 days. At the end of the 3 days, they say, "Surprise! I'm a multi-millionaire!" and give at least 100 grand to whomever they choose - either the person who takes them in for a night, the formerly homeless lady who gave them a job for a day, or the family who lived out of their car.
I know it kind of exploits people in these communities, but it is refreshing to see a show where the needy are rewarded, instead of a show based on whoever has the biggest boobies and is the biggest slut wins a million dollars.
I know it kind of exploits people in these communities, but it is refreshing to see a show where the needy are rewarded, instead of a show based on whoever has the biggest boobies and is the biggest slut wins a million dollars.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Big Boy
While we were in VA for the holiday, the boys and either Steve or I slept in a king-size mattress that was directly on the floor. Each night, Steve would lie down on the bed first with Ben, and when Ben was asleep I'd go down and lie with Logan until Logan was asleep. We discovered this was the best way to deal with bedtime after the shenanigans of the first night's attempt at putting them down at the same time - logically, all they wanted to do was play with each other.
On our last night, when Steve was lying down with Ben, Ben apparently kicked Steve out of bed, saying, "Night night, Daddy. Time for bed." Steve joined me and Logan and the rest of the Burke Freckles crew and checked on Ben every few minutes. We were certain he'd get out of bed and look for the flashlight (one of his favorite toys) or play beeper (at alternate times his phone or camera) or one of the other toys we'd taken with us. We were shocked when he stayed in bed, and put himself to sleep within 20 minutes.
A side note - ever since our move, Ben has had a hard time going to sleep, both at bed time and nap time. He hasn't had a problem with this since he was 9 weeks old - when he started sleeping through the night (other than the time when he was 6 months old and I sleep-trained him because I was fed up with walking a few miles between my bedroom and his bedroom to help him find his paci about 10 times each night). I can count on one hand the number of times he hasn't cried when we first put him into the crib since we've been in the new house. And every single night he's cried at some point thereafter. It's not been pleasant, for any of us. We know something's wrong, but we just don't know what.
That last night on the big bed was the only night that he hasn't cried at all when going to sleep. (Well, other than the times that we've lied down with him, but who can blame him?)
So yesterday I thought, "Maybe he doesn't like being in his crib anymore and it's time for him to be in a big boy bed."
On our last night, when Steve was lying down with Ben, Ben apparently kicked Steve out of bed, saying, "Night night, Daddy. Time for bed." Steve joined me and Logan and the rest of the Burke Freckles crew and checked on Ben every few minutes. We were certain he'd get out of bed and look for the flashlight (one of his favorite toys) or play beeper (at alternate times his phone or camera) or one of the other toys we'd taken with us. We were shocked when he stayed in bed, and put himself to sleep within 20 minutes.
A side note - ever since our move, Ben has had a hard time going to sleep, both at bed time and nap time. He hasn't had a problem with this since he was 9 weeks old - when he started sleeping through the night (other than the time when he was 6 months old and I sleep-trained him because I was fed up with walking a few miles between my bedroom and his bedroom to help him find his paci about 10 times each night). I can count on one hand the number of times he hasn't cried when we first put him into the crib since we've been in the new house. And every single night he's cried at some point thereafter. It's not been pleasant, for any of us. We know something's wrong, but we just don't know what.
That last night on the big bed was the only night that he hasn't cried at all when going to sleep. (Well, other than the times that we've lied down with him, but who can blame him?)
So yesterday I thought, "Maybe he doesn't like being in his crib anymore and it's time for him to be in a big boy bed."
We put a protective layer of cushy pillows on the floor next to the crib... just in case. It's funny, though - one of the reasons I had this idea is because Ben seems to be a pretty "still" sleeper - his head is on the pillow all night, and his body is in a straight line down the crib. That's exactly how I sleep, funnily. I always joke to Steve that making my side of the bed is so easy because I'm so still at night - I just need to pull the covers back and the bed is made. Making his side of the bed, however, is like a 10 minute ordeal. The fitted sheet is all but off the mattress, there are a hundred pillows, all with the covers half off and half are by his feet, the flat sheet is a mess... you get the idea.
Anyway... we'll see how it goes. This is a huge step for us! Our little boy is growing up :)
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Leaving on a jet plane
I've been up since 4:30. It's our (my) plan to leave the house by 6am so we can be at the airport by 6:45 (factoring in time for traffic) so we'll have plenty of time to check in before our flight leaves at 8:45.
We're visiting Steve's parents in VA for the holiday, and it's both the boys' first time on a plane.
I don't know why, but I am so nervous about this. It's not that I'm a nervous flyer - I don't think the plane is going to crash (although it is super windy right now - I think there might even be a wind advisory in effect. Is that safe to fly in??), and as long as I take my Dramamine an hour before the flight I'm fine - I'm just thinking of how the boys will do.
I think Ben should do fine, as he'll be in a car seat in his own seat, and we'll take the laptop so he can watch Mickey and Manny DVDs.
It's Logan I'm worried about! He'll be on my lap... a squirmy 11-month-old who wants to crawl and cruise everywhere cooped up on a lap in a plane for 2 hours? Not my idea of fun.
I've heard it's a good idea to apologize in advance to fellow passengers... :)
We're visiting Steve's parents in VA for the holiday, and it's both the boys' first time on a plane.
I don't know why, but I am so nervous about this. It's not that I'm a nervous flyer - I don't think the plane is going to crash (although it is super windy right now - I think there might even be a wind advisory in effect. Is that safe to fly in??), and as long as I take my Dramamine an hour before the flight I'm fine - I'm just thinking of how the boys will do.
I think Ben should do fine, as he'll be in a car seat in his own seat, and we'll take the laptop so he can watch Mickey and Manny DVDs.
It's Logan I'm worried about! He'll be on my lap... a squirmy 11-month-old who wants to crawl and cruise everywhere cooped up on a lap in a plane for 2 hours? Not my idea of fun.
I've heard it's a good idea to apologize in advance to fellow passengers... :)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Pictures... finally
I realized a few days ago that I've been terrible about putting pictures up on the blog. Funny, seeing as in my first post here I said that blogging would make me a better photo downloader and poster. Oh well... best laid plans, right?
Anyway, here are some pictures of the boys in their Halloween costumes. Poor Logan, of the perpetual hand-me-downs, wore the monkey costume that Ben wore last year. Ben absolutely hated it, and wouldn't let me put the hood up. Logan, on the other hand, was a ham as always and had no problem with the costume.
As handsome and lovable as his face is, I thought he looked the cutest when he was crawling away from me, and his monkey tail wagged around.
Ben dressed up as Handy Manny. Manny is one of Ben's favorite characters (the only other one he knows is Mickey Mouse and his gang), and I thought it would be an easy costume because all it consists of is a t-shirt, jeans, and a toolbox. I learned my lesson with the monkey costume last year that Ben does not tolerate complicated (yet cute) one-piece suits with attached hoods. And, Manny's outfit is essentially what Ben wears every single day, including the toolbox, so I thought I'd hit a home run. The last thing I wanted to do was have a battle over what he was going to wear to the Moms & Tots Halloween party, which was on the Wednesday before Halloween.
Well, wouldn't you know it - on both the day of the party and Halloween itself, Ben refused to wear his "costume." I couldn't believe it! He didn't want to wear the green t-shirt, and you'd have thought the handle of his toolbox was covered in toxic acid because he refused to hold it. I almost broke down in tears a few times at the party, because isn't the point of going to a children's-oriented Halloween party just to show off how cute your kids are in their costumes? Ben was the only one not wearing a costume :(
Anyway, on Halloween itself Ben refused to pick up his toolbox again... until Daddy got home. Somehow Daddy, hero of heroes, convinced Ben to pick up the acid-laden toolbox.
He's even smiling in the picture. Hooray!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The simplest things
For the past 10 minutes, I've been trying to load the dishwasher. Yes, "trying." Now, someone without children might think that I'm having problems moving things around to fit all the items in, or that there is some sort of problem with the dishwasher's functionality.
Those of us fortunate to be a parent of a cute little munchkin, on the other hand, will give a knowing smile and assume that one of the little stinkers is what's getting in the way.
Everytime I've opened the dishwasher this morning, I hear Logan's big old paws slapping the wood floor - he's crawling over to the dishwasher, which has, of course, become his new favorite toy. And he's gotten so darn fast! I literally only have time to open the dishwasher, stick one item in, and then close the door, making sure that the sharp corner doesn't hit his head.
Argh! All I want to do is load the darn dishwasher!!
Those of us fortunate to be a parent of a cute little munchkin, on the other hand, will give a knowing smile and assume that one of the little stinkers is what's getting in the way.
Everytime I've opened the dishwasher this morning, I hear Logan's big old paws slapping the wood floor - he's crawling over to the dishwasher, which has, of course, become his new favorite toy. And he's gotten so darn fast! I literally only have time to open the dishwasher, stick one item in, and then close the door, making sure that the sharp corner doesn't hit his head.
Argh! All I want to do is load the darn dishwasher!!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Close to home
This morning, as I was half-watching the local news while getting the kids' breakfast, getting my breakfast, depositing them in the playroom hoping they'd give me 5 minutes of "freedom" so I could get the breakfast dishes washed and wipe down the table, high chair, and booster seat, I half-noticed a story about a house fire in a nearby town, and thought I heard that one person died in the fire. Stories about house fires always get my attention, because I feel like deaths in those situations can often be avoided, as it seems like in many of the stories there were no working fire alarms in the house. I've thought many times about initiating some kind of fire alarm inspection program for charity, in order to ensure that every fire alarm is working.
Anyway, after the story was over I moved on with the day's to-do's. I'd all but forgotten about the story on the news - it was a snippet I'd heard about, but was over as soon as the anchorperson moved on to the next story, but it didn't directly affect me.
A few minutes ago, Steve and I were sitting side by side at our computers. I'd just placed an order for both a toddler urban BundleMe and the BabyJogger foot muff, because, although they're essentially the same thing, I didn't know which one would work best with the boys. Steve, out of the blue, asked me if I'd heard that story about the house fire in Lawrence on the news this morning. I thought he was going to say he saw the house from the highway, or something similar, because he drives through the town where it took place on the way to his NH office. Instead, he said that the woman who was killed in the fire was one of his employees. She worked on the assembly line. She and her husband initially got out of the house just fine, but she went back in with the intention of saving her 20-year-old special needs son. She and her son both died.
I thought it was very telling that it was the mother who went back into the burning house to save her son, rather than the father. That is how strong the bond between mother and child is. Although this is truly a horrible story, I think that part of it is beautiful.
I am so deeply sorry for this family's loss.
Anyway, after the story was over I moved on with the day's to-do's. I'd all but forgotten about the story on the news - it was a snippet I'd heard about, but was over as soon as the anchorperson moved on to the next story, but it didn't directly affect me.
A few minutes ago, Steve and I were sitting side by side at our computers. I'd just placed an order for both a toddler urban BundleMe and the BabyJogger foot muff, because, although they're essentially the same thing, I didn't know which one would work best with the boys. Steve, out of the blue, asked me if I'd heard that story about the house fire in Lawrence on the news this morning. I thought he was going to say he saw the house from the highway, or something similar, because he drives through the town where it took place on the way to his NH office. Instead, he said that the woman who was killed in the fire was one of his employees. She worked on the assembly line. She and her husband initially got out of the house just fine, but she went back in with the intention of saving her 20-year-old special needs son. She and her son both died.
I thought it was very telling that it was the mother who went back into the burning house to save her son, rather than the father. That is how strong the bond between mother and child is. Although this is truly a horrible story, I think that part of it is beautiful.
I am so deeply sorry for this family's loss.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
These kids today...
As we're new to the area, I didn't know how many trick-or-treaters to expect yesterday evening. Added to this is the fact that our street has only two houses on it, and we're the farther one of the two, so I didn't know if kids would even venture down to where we are, or if they'd prefer to just skip it and simply get candy from the easier to access houses. Well, it turns out we did have some trick-or-treaters - about 20 of them within about a 5 minute length of time. They were all dressed up pretty creatively - I especially liked the bee and the motocross guy (I didn't really like the Jimi Hendrix, who had a fake cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and who said, "Who says it's fake?" when I pointed it out). What I didn't appreciate was that the majority of the kids didn't say "Trick or Treat" when I opened the door. They just put out their little paws and grabbed Kit Kats, Nestle's Crunch bars, and Reese's Pieces. I hated that they just took for granted that I was going to give them candy without hearing the magic Halloween words. What's even worse is that out of the 20 kids, only 2 or 3 said "Thank you" after they'd taken their candy. I'm really into teaching Ben to be grateful these days, and to say thank you after other people do things for him, whether it's me making his lunch, Logan surrending a toy that Ben has to have, someone opening a door for us when we're out in the double stroller, or the UPS guy bringing a package to our door. I think gratitude is an extremely important thing, and I was saddened that very few of the kids showed it.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Why do I even bother?
Cooking, that is.
I haven't cooked dinner for oh, about the past year, or the whole time Steve was travelling during the week. Well, when we all moved up to MA and were actually a family again, I decided that I would go back to my Betty Crocker ways and make up my weekly meal plan, grocery shop accordingly, using coupons when possible, and cook dinner for my family most nights of the week.
Best laid plans, right?
The weekly meal planning, grocery shopping, coupon clipping, and cooking parts all go fine. I encounter problems, however, when it comes time for everyone to eat.
Like recently Ben has been waking up late from his afternoon nap - like around 4 or even later - and asks for a snack when he wakes up. Sometimes he's so hungry that he asks for several snacks, at which time I decide that he won't be able to hold off until it's time to eat whatever yummy meal is in the oven, and end up giving him chicken nuggets or one of those Knorr/Lipton Rice Sides. I'm left with a home-cooked meal that I will eat, Ben will not, Logan will have a few baby-sized bites of, and Steve may or may not eat. All that after I've made the effort to do all my meal planning and start cooking by 4:30 so that dinner's ready by 5:30-ish, when the boys and I eat dinner.
I'm really starting to wonder if going through all the effort is really worth it, when in the end I'm really the only one who eats the dinners I've prepared. Maybe I shouldn't commit to cooking so many meals during the week. Maybe I should cook 2 or 3 times, and order out or make microwave pizza the other days. But home cooking is so much healthier, and cost-effective. Ugh, I don't know. Any opinions on this?
I haven't cooked dinner for oh, about the past year, or the whole time Steve was travelling during the week. Well, when we all moved up to MA and were actually a family again, I decided that I would go back to my Betty Crocker ways and make up my weekly meal plan, grocery shop accordingly, using coupons when possible, and cook dinner for my family most nights of the week.
Best laid plans, right?
The weekly meal planning, grocery shopping, coupon clipping, and cooking parts all go fine. I encounter problems, however, when it comes time for everyone to eat.
Like recently Ben has been waking up late from his afternoon nap - like around 4 or even later - and asks for a snack when he wakes up. Sometimes he's so hungry that he asks for several snacks, at which time I decide that he won't be able to hold off until it's time to eat whatever yummy meal is in the oven, and end up giving him chicken nuggets or one of those Knorr/Lipton Rice Sides. I'm left with a home-cooked meal that I will eat, Ben will not, Logan will have a few baby-sized bites of, and Steve may or may not eat. All that after I've made the effort to do all my meal planning and start cooking by 4:30 so that dinner's ready by 5:30-ish, when the boys and I eat dinner.
I'm really starting to wonder if going through all the effort is really worth it, when in the end I'm really the only one who eats the dinners I've prepared. Maybe I shouldn't commit to cooking so many meals during the week. Maybe I should cook 2 or 3 times, and order out or make microwave pizza the other days. But home cooking is so much healthier, and cost-effective. Ugh, I don't know. Any opinions on this?
The Other Thing
I remembered a few days ago what "the other thing" I was having issues with about daycare (ahem, school) was. It's the length of time Ben's spending at school. I was fine, in my head, with sending him to a preschool, because they're only held for a few hours each day, a few days a week. I signed Ben up for the minimum length of time at the facility we chose, which is two days a week, up to 9 hours a day. Nine hours is a long time!! I had to sign up for set times to drop him off and pick him up, to reserve his spot, so I chose to drop off at 7:30am and pick up at 4:30pm. Thankfully it's flexible, so I can drop him off and pick him up at anytime in between those times.
Today I dropped him off just after 8, and I'll go to pick him up as soon as Logan wakes up. I really wonder what his reaction will be - will he let out another guilt-inducing cry like the first day, or will greet me with a huge smile like the second day?
Today I dropped him off just after 8, and I'll go to pick him up as soon as Logan wakes up. I really wonder what his reaction will be - will he let out another guilt-inducing cry like the first day, or will greet me with a huge smile like the second day?
Acclimating
So it seems as though we're really acclimating to being in our new home. I mean, we got used to the house almost immediately, but I feel like just this week we're getting settled into our new town, and our new lives.
I've never been the most outgoing person, and that's reflected by my close circle of friends (I'm not the kind of person to have upwards of 200 "friends" on Facebook, for example). I have no problem making small talk upon meeting new people, but, as my friend Jayne put it, I have trouble "closing the deal" and asking for someone's phone number or making arrangements to go for coffee or something after Gymboree. The fact that I don't even drink coffee might have something to do with that.
Steve and I had a long talk about this before we moved. We concluded that it was going to be time for me to step out of my shell, for real. We couldn't live like hermits and have no friends in the area, and as Steve was going to be working 12+ hour days it was up to me to make the connections. I was scared, but it made sense.
When we were up here last February, the realtor we were working with gave me the name of a mom's group called The Mother connection. I joined a few months ago, before we actually moved. It's a network of moms from my town and surrounding towns. There's a message board where moms discuss everything from the best rates on oil and good handymen in the area to preschools and playdates. A few weeks ago there was a posting for a walking group that met right in town, about a mile away from our new house. I decided that I was going to join this walking group. So I did - I went for the first time yesterday, and I really had a good time. I'd made it my goal to exchange information with at least one mom there, and I was able to achieve that goal too. The mom I exchanged with has a son who is just one week younger than Ben. She actually said that she's been looking for other kids their age to have a playdate with, because the kids who live in their neighborhood are all older. Now I just have to get up the balls to actually email her. Maybe tomorrow... :)
I also joined the Newcomers Club, which has a Moms & Tots division. I went to one of their playgroups last week, and had such a good time. It was great to have actual adult conversations (even though we did just talk about our kids). I only managed to stick my foot in my mouth once - I was telling some of the other moms about our decision to put Ben into school/daycare and mentioned that I found one of the other facilities to be really dirty... that's when one of them said, "That's where my kids go!!" I was mortified. I apologized profusely, but really, what can you do in that kind of situation? Other than blush?
Anyway, I really liked two of the moms, but was too shy to ask for their numbers or give out mine. I was really hoping that they would make the first move.
(Just a quick aside - I just put on Dr. Phil and today's episode is about bullying. The first clip of the show had all these people standing up saying, "I was bullied." It really brought tears to my eyes, because I was bullied too. More on that in a future post.)
As one of the moms I thought I could connect with was leaving, she asked if I was going to the Halloween party that Moms & Tots was throwing. I took that as a good sign that she'd want to hang out. Well, the party is tomorrow, and Ben, Logan and I will be there... looking for some future mom friends.
I've never been the most outgoing person, and that's reflected by my close circle of friends (I'm not the kind of person to have upwards of 200 "friends" on Facebook, for example). I have no problem making small talk upon meeting new people, but, as my friend Jayne put it, I have trouble "closing the deal" and asking for someone's phone number or making arrangements to go for coffee or something after Gymboree. The fact that I don't even drink coffee might have something to do with that.
Steve and I had a long talk about this before we moved. We concluded that it was going to be time for me to step out of my shell, for real. We couldn't live like hermits and have no friends in the area, and as Steve was going to be working 12+ hour days it was up to me to make the connections. I was scared, but it made sense.
When we were up here last February, the realtor we were working with gave me the name of a mom's group called The Mother connection. I joined a few months ago, before we actually moved. It's a network of moms from my town and surrounding towns. There's a message board where moms discuss everything from the best rates on oil and good handymen in the area to preschools and playdates. A few weeks ago there was a posting for a walking group that met right in town, about a mile away from our new house. I decided that I was going to join this walking group. So I did - I went for the first time yesterday, and I really had a good time. I'd made it my goal to exchange information with at least one mom there, and I was able to achieve that goal too. The mom I exchanged with has a son who is just one week younger than Ben. She actually said that she's been looking for other kids their age to have a playdate with, because the kids who live in their neighborhood are all older. Now I just have to get up the balls to actually email her. Maybe tomorrow... :)
I also joined the Newcomers Club, which has a Moms & Tots division. I went to one of their playgroups last week, and had such a good time. It was great to have actual adult conversations (even though we did just talk about our kids). I only managed to stick my foot in my mouth once - I was telling some of the other moms about our decision to put Ben into school/daycare and mentioned that I found one of the other facilities to be really dirty... that's when one of them said, "That's where my kids go!!" I was mortified. I apologized profusely, but really, what can you do in that kind of situation? Other than blush?
Anyway, I really liked two of the moms, but was too shy to ask for their numbers or give out mine. I was really hoping that they would make the first move.
(Just a quick aside - I just put on Dr. Phil and today's episode is about bullying. The first clip of the show had all these people standing up saying, "I was bullied." It really brought tears to my eyes, because I was bullied too. More on that in a future post.)
As one of the moms I thought I could connect with was leaving, she asked if I was going to the Halloween party that Moms & Tots was throwing. I took that as a good sign that she'd want to hang out. Well, the party is tomorrow, and Ben, Logan and I will be there... looking for some future mom friends.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I'm an Aunt!
Congratulations to my sister-in-law Ana and Brent!! Their healthy baby boy was born about 30 minutes ago. We still don't know the "official" name, but we've heard that everyone is healthy, which is really all that matters.
It is such a special time when a new baby is born. I'm getting emotional just thinking about it. The labor and delivery experience is one that only a woman who has been through it herself can really understand. The feelings surrounding it are indescribable - a combination of fear, joy, anxiety, love... and many more. Whenever I hear that someone is pregnant or in labor or has just given birth I can't help but think back to my pregnancies, labors, and deliveries and re-experience my own emotions during those times. I do wear my heart on my sleeve and I am overemotional, but I love thinking back to those experiences. They are truly defining moments of my life.
Wow, way to totally steal Ana's thunder with my ramblings. Oops!
Congratulations Ana and Brent (and big sister Chloe!) We can't wait to meet your new baby boy at Thanksgiving!!
It is such a special time when a new baby is born. I'm getting emotional just thinking about it. The labor and delivery experience is one that only a woman who has been through it herself can really understand. The feelings surrounding it are indescribable - a combination of fear, joy, anxiety, love... and many more. Whenever I hear that someone is pregnant or in labor or has just given birth I can't help but think back to my pregnancies, labors, and deliveries and re-experience my own emotions during those times. I do wear my heart on my sleeve and I am overemotional, but I love thinking back to those experiences. They are truly defining moments of my life.
Wow, way to totally steal Ana's thunder with my ramblings. Oops!
Congratulations Ana and Brent (and big sister Chloe!) We can't wait to meet your new baby boy at Thanksgiving!!
Breakthrough?
So this morning, after breakfast, the boys and I were hanging out in the playroom while Steve was upstairs taking a shower. Out of nowhere, Ben said to me, "Back school?" I think I honestly sat there in stunned silence for a few seconds. He was asking me if he could go back to school! Wowee! I hope he's still so happy about it when he goes for a longer period of time on Tuesday, for his first real day.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
On a lighter note...
Logan has come a long way in the past few weeks. First he was crawling, now he's pulling up to standing on just about any raised surface he can find. He did it for the first time on Monday (the day after my mom left - she was so disappointed to have missed it!) and was a bit wobbly and tentative at first, but now he's a real pro. He's still getting the hang of the sitting himself back down part, however, and he's gotten stuck a number of times.
Love him so much!
Love him so much!
Daycare - Day 2
Today was Ben's second day of daycare. I still refer to it as school everywhere but here, because it's just easier for me. I feel less guilt when I call it school.
I told Ben this morning that he was going to school today. I really expected him to burst into tears and say something along the lines of "No school!" but he simply smiled and said, "School," and then, "Face paint." That face painting experience really made an impression on him!
I continued to expect a meltdown when we got into the parking lot, when we walked into the lobby, and especially when we walked into the classroom, but there were no tears and no protests at all. He did ask me once if I was going in with him, and of course I said yes. I'd decided ahead of time that I wasn't going to spend so much time in the classroom with him today as I did on Thursday. I wanted it to be brief. So we went in, and I sat on the floor and he sat on my lap. I tried to get his jacket off, but he didn't want to take it off. I guess that was my first sign that he didn't feel quite comfortable. After a few minutes, though, he said, "Jacket off?" I was happy! It was like he was feeling more comfortable. "I'll stay a while," I took that to mean.
After we took his jacket off, he sat back on my lap. We watched some kids at one of the tables play with these round wooden beads - they were putting them on a long string, forming colorful necklaces. I asked him a few times if he wanted to join in, but he said no. At one point, a bead fell on the floor but no one noticed. I asked Ben if he would pick it up and put it back in the box. he got up, picked it up off the floor... and put it on the string that the teacher was holding. Then he put on another one... and another one... and another one. He was completely engaged in this task. He didn't even look back at me once, which I was very pleased by. He was being so independent! I thought that would be a good time to leave, but wanted to make sure, so I caught the teacher's eye and whispered, "Should I leave?" She nodded, so I got up and went to the door. Ben looked at me, but didn't cry. I said, "Love you sweetie pie. I'll see you soon," and walked out the door. I heard him start to cry as I walked out, but was pretty sure he'd be okay within a few minutes, just like Tuesday.
I sat in the lobby for almost 3 uninterrupted hours. It was actually quite pleasant - albeit a little cold - to just sit and relax for no obligations for such a long period of time. I'd planned on this alone time and brought along the book "Eat, Pray, Love," by Elizabeth Gilbert. Have you read it?
At one point a delicious aroma started wafting out into the lobby - the front desk workers and I wondered aloud what it could be... meatloaf, sloppy joe's, spaghetti? It turned out to be meatballs. I wondered if Ben would eat the meatballs. He likes them when I make them at home, and I really hoped he would eat the facility's meatballs.
Again, before I knew it it was 12:00 and time to collect him. As I walked down the hall I remembered yesterday's outburst when I picked him up and already felt guilty again. I really thought that I'd cry when I saw him cry. Boy, was I wrong!
When I opened the door and he saw me, his little face lit up and he ran toward me and said, "Mommy!!" with a huge smile. I couldn't believe it! He was as happy as could be. The teachers said he'd had a great day. He'd cried for about 5 minutes, just like yesterday, but rebounded very well. He had fun on the playground, and even started engaging with some of the other kids (I was thrilled by that, as that's one of the main reasons I'm enrolling him). And they said he ate a big lunch - two cups of milk, and two plates of the meatballs! Woo hoo! He was absolutely giddy as we left the classroom and the building, and it continued when we got home. He was just so happy.
He starts for real on Tuesday. My fingers are crossed that it continues to go well. It'll be a little different because I'm planning on dropping him off a little earlier, for breakfast, and he'll be napping there as well. I'm still going back and forth as to whether I should continue to go slow with the transition. Like should I drop him off at the same time he's used to, and have him stay for nap, instead of dropping him off early as well? Ugh, I don't know. I guess I still have a few days to decide.
Wish me (and Ben) luck!
I told Ben this morning that he was going to school today. I really expected him to burst into tears and say something along the lines of "No school!" but he simply smiled and said, "School," and then, "Face paint." That face painting experience really made an impression on him!
I continued to expect a meltdown when we got into the parking lot, when we walked into the lobby, and especially when we walked into the classroom, but there were no tears and no protests at all. He did ask me once if I was going in with him, and of course I said yes. I'd decided ahead of time that I wasn't going to spend so much time in the classroom with him today as I did on Thursday. I wanted it to be brief. So we went in, and I sat on the floor and he sat on my lap. I tried to get his jacket off, but he didn't want to take it off. I guess that was my first sign that he didn't feel quite comfortable. After a few minutes, though, he said, "Jacket off?" I was happy! It was like he was feeling more comfortable. "I'll stay a while," I took that to mean.
After we took his jacket off, he sat back on my lap. We watched some kids at one of the tables play with these round wooden beads - they were putting them on a long string, forming colorful necklaces. I asked him a few times if he wanted to join in, but he said no. At one point, a bead fell on the floor but no one noticed. I asked Ben if he would pick it up and put it back in the box. he got up, picked it up off the floor... and put it on the string that the teacher was holding. Then he put on another one... and another one... and another one. He was completely engaged in this task. He didn't even look back at me once, which I was very pleased by. He was being so independent! I thought that would be a good time to leave, but wanted to make sure, so I caught the teacher's eye and whispered, "Should I leave?" She nodded, so I got up and went to the door. Ben looked at me, but didn't cry. I said, "Love you sweetie pie. I'll see you soon," and walked out the door. I heard him start to cry as I walked out, but was pretty sure he'd be okay within a few minutes, just like Tuesday.
I sat in the lobby for almost 3 uninterrupted hours. It was actually quite pleasant - albeit a little cold - to just sit and relax for no obligations for such a long period of time. I'd planned on this alone time and brought along the book "Eat, Pray, Love," by Elizabeth Gilbert. Have you read it?
At one point a delicious aroma started wafting out into the lobby - the front desk workers and I wondered aloud what it could be... meatloaf, sloppy joe's, spaghetti? It turned out to be meatballs. I wondered if Ben would eat the meatballs. He likes them when I make them at home, and I really hoped he would eat the facility's meatballs.
Again, before I knew it it was 12:00 and time to collect him. As I walked down the hall I remembered yesterday's outburst when I picked him up and already felt guilty again. I really thought that I'd cry when I saw him cry. Boy, was I wrong!
When I opened the door and he saw me, his little face lit up and he ran toward me and said, "Mommy!!" with a huge smile. I couldn't believe it! He was as happy as could be. The teachers said he'd had a great day. He'd cried for about 5 minutes, just like yesterday, but rebounded very well. He had fun on the playground, and even started engaging with some of the other kids (I was thrilled by that, as that's one of the main reasons I'm enrolling him). And they said he ate a big lunch - two cups of milk, and two plates of the meatballs! Woo hoo! He was absolutely giddy as we left the classroom and the building, and it continued when we got home. He was just so happy.
He starts for real on Tuesday. My fingers are crossed that it continues to go well. It'll be a little different because I'm planning on dropping him off a little earlier, for breakfast, and he'll be napping there as well. I'm still going back and forth as to whether I should continue to go slow with the transition. Like should I drop him off at the same time he's used to, and have him stay for nap, instead of dropping him off early as well? Ugh, I don't know. I guess I still have a few days to decide.
Wish me (and Ben) luck!
Daycare - Day 1
We did our first visiting day at daycare on Tuesday. The facility had an open house and fall festival the Saturday before, so we went to that both so Steve could see it and meet the teachers and so Ben would become familiar with it. I'm so glad we went! They had several activity stations set up in the classrooms - one was painting blow-up paper bags to resemble pumpkins and adhering fall-themed foam shapes to them, another was painting/stamping with halved apples, and another (Ben's favorite) was face painting, which Ben couldn't get enough of. First he had a pumpkin painted on his right cheek. He went to the mirror to check himself out, then promptly marched right back to the chair he'd been sitting in and asked for "more paint?" This went on about 5 more times, until he finished up with the pumpkin, a heart on his left cheek, a star on his forehead, "BEN" written down his left cheek, and a red polka dot on the tip of his nose. He had such a good time and was talking about face painting the rest of the day. We kept mentioning to him that this was going to be his new school, and did he like his new school, etc.
This was actually a great help when, on Tuesday morning, I told him we'd be going to school. Immediately his face lit up and he said, "Paint face?" I was so happy that he remembered! I told him that I wasn't sure if they'd be doing face-painting today. We went in, and he seemed a little cautious (understandably) so I sat with him for the first 45 minutes. They were just starting snack when we got there - apple juice and yogurt - but Ben wanted nothing to do with it. He sat on my lap and we watched the other kids. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Ben juice," so we got him a cup of apple juice. He still sat on my lap to drink it. Then, a few minutes later, he said, "Ben yogurt," and left my lap to sit in his chair at the table so he could eat his yogurt. He saw all the other kids washing their hands, so he got up, put his stuff in the garbage can, and washed his hands. It was amazing to watch! Next was music time, out in the hallway. He sat on my lap the entire time - which I honestly wasn't too shocked by as he sat in my lap during our 6 week Music Together class. We went back into the classroom and he started playing with the fake food in the fake kitchen (the kid loves fake kitchens. He always gravitates towards them. If there's a room with a fake kitchen in it, I'd put money on him going to it within 5 minutes). When he seemed engaged, I told him that I was going to sit in the front lobby. He cried, said, "Mommy stay" and blocked my access to the door. I got sucked in, so I stayed. He rebounded pretty quickly, so I decided to make an exit, for real this time. His poor little face got such a bright yet deep shade of red, and he was crying and calling for me. One of the teachers picked him up and tried to settle him as I closed the door behind me and went to sit in the lobby.
I was sure they'd come out to get me in 10 minutes because they couldn't settle him. That's what happened when I tried to put him in the gym daycare - they had to get me out of my step & sculpt class after 10 minutes because he wouldn't stop crying. I kept checking the clock. 10 minutes went by... 20 minutes... 45... an hour... Before I knew it, it had been over 2 hours and I hadn't heard anything from the classroom. Phew! At one point I peeked in on him (Steve called on my cell phone and told me to) and he was sitting at the table eating his lunch. At around 12:15 one of the teachers came out to get me, because she wasn't sure if he was staying for nap time (he wasn't). We talked about his day - he'd cried for about 5 minutes, then calmed down. He was a little stand-offish at first, but then seemed to get more comfortable. He was laughing and smiling during their activities. He ran around on the playground. He put Little People onto a bus, and a little girl named Catherine put them back on. He ate 3 apple wedges and all of his turkey hot dog, and even asked for me. I was thrilled.
When I went into his room to get him, he burst back into tears as soon as he saw me. This hurt more than the tears when I was leaving him. I interpreted these tears to mean, "How could you have left me here? How could you have done this to me? You're my mom, and you left me." Ugh, I felt more guilt than I think I've ever felt. It was horrible. Fortunately he was able to pull himself together after a minutes of comforting from me (I still needed someone to comfort me).
When I asked him later if he'd had a good time at school, he said, "Mm-hm," which translates to "Yes mommy!" I was again thrilled by this. I'd really thought that the day would be a disaster, but it really exceeded my expectations. Hooray!
This was actually a great help when, on Tuesday morning, I told him we'd be going to school. Immediately his face lit up and he said, "Paint face?" I was so happy that he remembered! I told him that I wasn't sure if they'd be doing face-painting today. We went in, and he seemed a little cautious (understandably) so I sat with him for the first 45 minutes. They were just starting snack when we got there - apple juice and yogurt - but Ben wanted nothing to do with it. He sat on my lap and we watched the other kids. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Ben juice," so we got him a cup of apple juice. He still sat on my lap to drink it. Then, a few minutes later, he said, "Ben yogurt," and left my lap to sit in his chair at the table so he could eat his yogurt. He saw all the other kids washing their hands, so he got up, put his stuff in the garbage can, and washed his hands. It was amazing to watch! Next was music time, out in the hallway. He sat on my lap the entire time - which I honestly wasn't too shocked by as he sat in my lap during our 6 week Music Together class. We went back into the classroom and he started playing with the fake food in the fake kitchen (the kid loves fake kitchens. He always gravitates towards them. If there's a room with a fake kitchen in it, I'd put money on him going to it within 5 minutes). When he seemed engaged, I told him that I was going to sit in the front lobby. He cried, said, "Mommy stay" and blocked my access to the door. I got sucked in, so I stayed. He rebounded pretty quickly, so I decided to make an exit, for real this time. His poor little face got such a bright yet deep shade of red, and he was crying and calling for me. One of the teachers picked him up and tried to settle him as I closed the door behind me and went to sit in the lobby.
I was sure they'd come out to get me in 10 minutes because they couldn't settle him. That's what happened when I tried to put him in the gym daycare - they had to get me out of my step & sculpt class after 10 minutes because he wouldn't stop crying. I kept checking the clock. 10 minutes went by... 20 minutes... 45... an hour... Before I knew it, it had been over 2 hours and I hadn't heard anything from the classroom. Phew! At one point I peeked in on him (Steve called on my cell phone and told me to) and he was sitting at the table eating his lunch. At around 12:15 one of the teachers came out to get me, because she wasn't sure if he was staying for nap time (he wasn't). We talked about his day - he'd cried for about 5 minutes, then calmed down. He was a little stand-offish at first, but then seemed to get more comfortable. He was laughing and smiling during their activities. He ran around on the playground. He put Little People onto a bus, and a little girl named Catherine put them back on. He ate 3 apple wedges and all of his turkey hot dog, and even asked for me. I was thrilled.
When I went into his room to get him, he burst back into tears as soon as he saw me. This hurt more than the tears when I was leaving him. I interpreted these tears to mean, "How could you have left me here? How could you have done this to me? You're my mom, and you left me." Ugh, I felt more guilt than I think I've ever felt. It was horrible. Fortunately he was able to pull himself together after a minutes of comforting from me (I still needed someone to comfort me).
When I asked him later if he'd had a good time at school, he said, "Mm-hm," which translates to "Yes mommy!" I was again thrilled by this. I'd really thought that the day would be a disaster, but it really exceeded my expectations. Hooray!
The Daycare Dilemma
In the New York/New Jersey area, where we've lived for the past 4 and a half years and where we've seen countless friends have babies and then seen those babies off to school, almost everyone sends their kids (babies, really) to preschool as soon as they turn 2. I suppose part of the reasoning behind this is the rigorous school curriculums that are now in practice, starting as early as kindergarten, from what I've heard. So last summer all the moms who have kids around Ben's age - he was about to turn 2 - were having the preschool discussion. "What have you heard about Preschool A?" "What about the Montessori?" "What's the JCC's curriculum like?" "The YMCA has a great teacher to student ratio." Everyone asked what preschool I was going to put Ben into, and luckily my answer was easy - we were moving, so I'd look into schools when we got to Massachusetts.
I ran into a funny number on all the Massachusetts preschool websites - 2.9. As in, it's the law here that preschools are only available to kids aged 2.9 or older. I spent the vast majority of my spare time trying to figure out what .9 of a year was. It wasn't until about a week ago that someone told me that it wasn't really .9 as in nine-tenths - it really meant 9 months. So a kid has to be 2 years 9 months to enter preschool. So my plans for having Ben enter preschool when we moved and having two "free" mornings a week (I use the term "free" loosely, because honestly, I'd still be caring for a 9+ month old!), and having Ben learn invaluable social skills were all of a sudden caput. I had done some research, however, on 3 of the facilities up here before the whole 2.9 thing came to light. I even visited them. The first one was okay - I could see Ben there but it didn't wow me; the second was amazing, fantastic, wow-inducing; and the third was a disgusting basement cave that I wanted to leave as soon as I walked in.
Steve and I talked a lot about enrolling Ben into the second facility. Steve was definitely for it 100%... I, on the other hand, was a classic flip-flopper. On one hand, of course I wanted Ben to have more exposure to kids his own age, and I think the time away from me would do him (and probably me) some good. And I know the facility's teachers are way more creative than I could ever dream of being and would find all sorts of ways to stimulate Ben's little mind and keep him engaged, which is better than playing with the same toys we have in the playroom again and again.
I had two big issues on the "con" side of enrolling Ben. First was simply an issue of semantics. I had planned on enrolling Ben in a preschool, but as preschools in Mass don't start until age 2.9, this would technically be daycare. And I felt like since I'm a stay at home mom, it's my obligation - my job - to be at home with my kids. Not to pawn them off onto someone else because I need a break. I feel like that is selfish. I chose this life, and I feel like putting him into a daycare isn't fair for me to do. But then I tell myself that I wouldn't feel guilty at all if the title were "Preschool" - I would actually feel like I was doing something good by enrolling him. I think I'm still kind of torn on this. I think part of it is that preschools generally only go for a few hours a few mornings a week. If/when I enroll him in this facility, the minimum number of hours you can sign up for is "up to 9." Meaning that I could pick him up after only a few hours if I wanted to, but most kids stay there for a full day. 9 hours is so long for him to be there. And I know I'd feel guilty sitting at home playing with Logan or eating lunch with Logan and thinking about Ben eating lunch at the facility. But then I think of him playing with other kids and being exposed to brand new activities and I know that's good for him... ugh! I told you I've been flip-flopping!! (I just went back and re-read the first line of this paragraph, and now I can't remember what the second thing on the "con" side was. I think it might have been the whole stay at home mom thing.)
Anyway, after thinking about I did sign the enrollment papers for Ben. We had visiting days on Tuesday and again today. I'll write separate posts for those experiences.
Are there any other stay at home moms out there who have put their kids in daycare? Did you experience guilt? How did you get over it?
I ran into a funny number on all the Massachusetts preschool websites - 2.9. As in, it's the law here that preschools are only available to kids aged 2.9 or older. I spent the vast majority of my spare time trying to figure out what .9 of a year was. It wasn't until about a week ago that someone told me that it wasn't really .9 as in nine-tenths - it really meant 9 months. So a kid has to be 2 years 9 months to enter preschool. So my plans for having Ben enter preschool when we moved and having two "free" mornings a week (I use the term "free" loosely, because honestly, I'd still be caring for a 9+ month old!), and having Ben learn invaluable social skills were all of a sudden caput. I had done some research, however, on 3 of the facilities up here before the whole 2.9 thing came to light. I even visited them. The first one was okay - I could see Ben there but it didn't wow me; the second was amazing, fantastic, wow-inducing; and the third was a disgusting basement cave that I wanted to leave as soon as I walked in.
Steve and I talked a lot about enrolling Ben into the second facility. Steve was definitely for it 100%... I, on the other hand, was a classic flip-flopper. On one hand, of course I wanted Ben to have more exposure to kids his own age, and I think the time away from me would do him (and probably me) some good. And I know the facility's teachers are way more creative than I could ever dream of being and would find all sorts of ways to stimulate Ben's little mind and keep him engaged, which is better than playing with the same toys we have in the playroom again and again.
I had two big issues on the "con" side of enrolling Ben. First was simply an issue of semantics. I had planned on enrolling Ben in a preschool, but as preschools in Mass don't start until age 2.9, this would technically be daycare. And I felt like since I'm a stay at home mom, it's my obligation - my job - to be at home with my kids. Not to pawn them off onto someone else because I need a break. I feel like that is selfish. I chose this life, and I feel like putting him into a daycare isn't fair for me to do. But then I tell myself that I wouldn't feel guilty at all if the title were "Preschool" - I would actually feel like I was doing something good by enrolling him. I think I'm still kind of torn on this. I think part of it is that preschools generally only go for a few hours a few mornings a week. If/when I enroll him in this facility, the minimum number of hours you can sign up for is "up to 9." Meaning that I could pick him up after only a few hours if I wanted to, but most kids stay there for a full day. 9 hours is so long for him to be there. And I know I'd feel guilty sitting at home playing with Logan or eating lunch with Logan and thinking about Ben eating lunch at the facility. But then I think of him playing with other kids and being exposed to brand new activities and I know that's good for him... ugh! I told you I've been flip-flopping!! (I just went back and re-read the first line of this paragraph, and now I can't remember what the second thing on the "con" side was. I think it might have been the whole stay at home mom thing.)
Anyway, after thinking about I did sign the enrollment papers for Ben. We had visiting days on Tuesday and again today. I'll write separate posts for those experiences.
Are there any other stay at home moms out there who have put their kids in daycare? Did you experience guilt? How did you get over it?
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Milestone
Logan is officially crawling!! He actually took his first crawling "steps" on Wednesday, the day we moved into the new house. I took it as a sign that things here, in our new life, were going to be good. He didn't really do it at all on Thursday or Friday, but today he just took off! After dinner he crawled about 10 feet to me, and while Ben was having his bath Logan crawled from the middle of Ben's room out into the hallway and into the bathroom where Ben and Steve were.
It's the cutest thing!
(Of course I say that now, but in about a week or so I'll secretly be cursing him.)
It's the cutest thing!
(Of course I say that now, but in about a week or so I'll secretly be cursing him.)
Lost and Found
Three things were lost today - 1) me; 2) my phone; and 3) Ben.
We decided to take a family trip to Target to get all the things we forgot while on yesterday's Target outing. It really amazing how this happens - you prepare your detailed list of everything you need at Target, ranging from baby food to things to prune a shrub to decorative plates, you go to the store and get everything on your list plus some things that you didn't know you needed until you saw it, like the wire sponge holder that suction cups to the side of the sink, and within 10 minutes of returning home you've already made a list of 5 more items that you need to go back to Target for. It always happens like this.
Anyway, it was getting close to Logan's afternoon nap time, and Steve was in a browsey mood where he wanted to go down every aisle and look at all the fun stuff. While I usually love when Steve is in this mood, because it means that he's taking a little hiatus from being a robot, I wanted to make this a quick trip so we could get Logan home for a nap. We split up - Steve took Ben in the stroller and I took Logan in the cart - and I made sure I had my cell phone right in front of me so that when Steve called wondering where I was I'd be able to get to the phone without a problem.
My first mistake (and only mistake, of course, because I'm almost perfect) was asking Logan to look after my phone. I balanced it on the fabric of the shopping cart cover and he eagerly picked it up and examined it and chewed it and held it up to his ear. Our first stop was the infant/toddler clothing section to buy new jeans for Ben, because - poor thing - the two pairs of jeans he has are so short on him now. I really think he's had a growth spurt in the past few weeks. While I was perusing the racks of amazingly well-priced Cherokee jeans Logan busied himself with a tag he found on a piece of clothing that was hanging next to him. After I picked up two pairs of jeans for Ben we headed off to the Swiffer aisle. It was then that I remembered that I had asked Logan to mind my phone for me, and then that I realized that he was still playing with the tag that he had in fact ripped off a shirt back in the clothing section. "Uh oh... please tell me you're sitting on the phone or it's just fallen in the cart..."
Nope. The damn phone was gone. I got flustered, embarrassed, amused, angry at myself for expecting my 9 month old to know what "responsibility" meant, and scared in anticipation of Steve's reaction to this. I went back to the infant/toddler section and scoured it for a good 10 minutes before I conceded that the phone wasn't there. I was hoping, hoping that a good samaritan or Target employee had found it and taken it to the customer service desk, but I have to admit that the thought that maybe someone would take it and use it themselves did cross my mind.
When I started walking towards the customer service desk to reveal my idiocy, I saw Steve talking to an employee down one of the aisles. I decided that I had to tell him what I'd done at some point, so might as well do it now.
As it turns out, he thought I was lost and was about to have me paged over the loudspeaker. Something along the lines of "Catherine [rhymes with freckles], please meet your husband by ladies' intimates!" Steve's actual words were, "You were almost about to be embarrassed! I was going to have you paged," to which I replied, "Um, I'm already embarrassed. I lost my phone [sheepish grin]."
As I predicted, Steve was none too happy with this. He was quite disappointed in me. Which I actually don't really understand, as I don't really lose things very often. It's actually one of the qualities I pride myself on. I just don't lose things. We all went back to the infant/toddler clothing section, Target employee in tow, and re-scoured everything I'd just scoured. While we looked, Steve continuously called my phone so we'd hear it ringing. After a few calls someone picked up - the lady at the customer service desk. Phew! What a sigh of relief I let out. I was so happy that it was in fact a good samaritan who'd found my phone and turned it in to the customer service people. Thank you so much, whoever you are!
We thanked the Target employee and got ready to get the rest of the stuff on my list. Steve said, "Do we need anything else?" My reply - "Yes. Ben." I'd just realized that Ben was nowhere to be found. It was truly one of the scariest moments of my life. You know, all the horrible scenarios go through your head when something like this happens - scenarios that are too awful to even type. So I won't.
After a few minutes more of frantic searching through the infant/toddler clothing section, another nice lady called us over and said Ben was over by where she was (probably about 10 feet from where we were). Thank God.
Of course I was furious at Steve. I couldn't believe that he would let something like that happen when he was supposed to be tending to Ben. I couldn't believe that he was so intent on finding the stupid cell phone that he neglected his duties as a parent, which at that time included minding Ben. Of course when I pointed out to Steve that he reamed me out for losing a phone and then proceded to lose our son, he made a joke out of it. Ugh, men.
We decided to take a family trip to Target to get all the things we forgot while on yesterday's Target outing. It really amazing how this happens - you prepare your detailed list of everything you need at Target, ranging from baby food to things to prune a shrub to decorative plates, you go to the store and get everything on your list plus some things that you didn't know you needed until you saw it, like the wire sponge holder that suction cups to the side of the sink, and within 10 minutes of returning home you've already made a list of 5 more items that you need to go back to Target for. It always happens like this.
Anyway, it was getting close to Logan's afternoon nap time, and Steve was in a browsey mood where he wanted to go down every aisle and look at all the fun stuff. While I usually love when Steve is in this mood, because it means that he's taking a little hiatus from being a robot, I wanted to make this a quick trip so we could get Logan home for a nap. We split up - Steve took Ben in the stroller and I took Logan in the cart - and I made sure I had my cell phone right in front of me so that when Steve called wondering where I was I'd be able to get to the phone without a problem.
My first mistake (and only mistake, of course, because I'm almost perfect) was asking Logan to look after my phone. I balanced it on the fabric of the shopping cart cover and he eagerly picked it up and examined it and chewed it and held it up to his ear. Our first stop was the infant/toddler clothing section to buy new jeans for Ben, because - poor thing - the two pairs of jeans he has are so short on him now. I really think he's had a growth spurt in the past few weeks. While I was perusing the racks of amazingly well-priced Cherokee jeans Logan busied himself with a tag he found on a piece of clothing that was hanging next to him. After I picked up two pairs of jeans for Ben we headed off to the Swiffer aisle. It was then that I remembered that I had asked Logan to mind my phone for me, and then that I realized that he was still playing with the tag that he had in fact ripped off a shirt back in the clothing section. "Uh oh... please tell me you're sitting on the phone or it's just fallen in the cart..."
Nope. The damn phone was gone. I got flustered, embarrassed, amused, angry at myself for expecting my 9 month old to know what "responsibility" meant, and scared in anticipation of Steve's reaction to this. I went back to the infant/toddler section and scoured it for a good 10 minutes before I conceded that the phone wasn't there. I was hoping, hoping that a good samaritan or Target employee had found it and taken it to the customer service desk, but I have to admit that the thought that maybe someone would take it and use it themselves did cross my mind.
When I started walking towards the customer service desk to reveal my idiocy, I saw Steve talking to an employee down one of the aisles. I decided that I had to tell him what I'd done at some point, so might as well do it now.
As it turns out, he thought I was lost and was about to have me paged over the loudspeaker. Something along the lines of "Catherine [rhymes with freckles], please meet your husband by ladies' intimates!" Steve's actual words were, "You were almost about to be embarrassed! I was going to have you paged," to which I replied, "Um, I'm already embarrassed. I lost my phone [sheepish grin]."
As I predicted, Steve was none too happy with this. He was quite disappointed in me. Which I actually don't really understand, as I don't really lose things very often. It's actually one of the qualities I pride myself on. I just don't lose things. We all went back to the infant/toddler clothing section, Target employee in tow, and re-scoured everything I'd just scoured. While we looked, Steve continuously called my phone so we'd hear it ringing. After a few calls someone picked up - the lady at the customer service desk. Phew! What a sigh of relief I let out. I was so happy that it was in fact a good samaritan who'd found my phone and turned it in to the customer service people. Thank you so much, whoever you are!
We thanked the Target employee and got ready to get the rest of the stuff on my list. Steve said, "Do we need anything else?" My reply - "Yes. Ben." I'd just realized that Ben was nowhere to be found. It was truly one of the scariest moments of my life. You know, all the horrible scenarios go through your head when something like this happens - scenarios that are too awful to even type. So I won't.
After a few minutes more of frantic searching through the infant/toddler clothing section, another nice lady called us over and said Ben was over by where she was (probably about 10 feet from where we were). Thank God.
Of course I was furious at Steve. I couldn't believe that he would let something like that happen when he was supposed to be tending to Ben. I couldn't believe that he was so intent on finding the stupid cell phone that he neglected his duties as a parent, which at that time included minding Ben. Of course when I pointed out to Steve that he reamed me out for losing a phone and then proceded to lose our son, he made a joke out of it. Ugh, men.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Breather
I need a breather. I'm not talking like a five minute break to take some deep breaths (although even that would be nice right about now). What I'm talking about is a 3-day weekend at a spa resort. I don't even know if I'd want to go with a few girlfriends - I think I'd like it to be just me.
The past 3 days have been hell. Well, the past few weeks - since September 15th when the boys first got sick - have been hell, but the past 3 days have been something entirely different. Like that book that talks about the circles of hell - who was that by? Dante Alighieri I think? Oh yes - Dante's Inferno. Anyway, I feel like I've slowly been working my way through the circles of hell, and today I've reached the middle.
I dropped two f-bombs on the Verizon lady this morning after being on hold for a total of about 2 hours and then being told that I should walk up and down the street looking for numbers on the telephone poles. Are you effing kidding me? Isn't that the Verizon guy's job? Not the lady who just moved into a new house with a 2 year old and a 9 month old to take care of too? I was livid.
Fast forward to the boys' naptime. Ben went down pretty easily at 2:20. Logan was due to go down at that same time, but continued to cry and sit himself up in his crib. After 5 minutes I put him back down, and came back downstairs. After 5 more minutes of continued crying I went back up and discovered he had a huge load in his diaper. So I changed him, rocked with him, and put him down in the crib again. Usually this is the part where he falls fast asleep (the poop release really seems to relax him). But he kept crying and sitting himself up. So at 3:00 I decided to abort the nap and try again in half an hour - that was me trying to remain calm, cool and collected.
In the past 3 days, I have not touched any of the boxes in our bedroom, and as a result I'm quickly running out of clothes to wear. I had to search and search for clean undies to wear today (necessary since I'm wearing the same jeans I've worn for the past 4 days - ew). So after the aborted nap I brought Logan into my room, explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. After a brief protest he was fine with that and busied himself chewing on a Robeez shoe that somehow happened to be in my closet.
At 3:15 Ben woke up screaming. I put Logan down then, and got Ben, who was still screaming (I think he's disoriented when he wakes up because his new room is really dark. We need to get some nightlights for him). Ben wanted to be held, so I held him for a few minutes, then explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. Ben kept screaming. Logan kept screaming. I screamed a little.
I aborted Logan's nap time, I aborted unpacking my stuff, I hoisted one boy under each arm, I headed downstairs, I dropped them off in the playroom (stopping briefly to wipe the tears that were forming in my eyes) and I poured myself a large glass of Chardonnay, which I don't even like, but I'm finding very satisfying right now.
The past 3 days have been hell. Well, the past few weeks - since September 15th when the boys first got sick - have been hell, but the past 3 days have been something entirely different. Like that book that talks about the circles of hell - who was that by? Dante Alighieri I think? Oh yes - Dante's Inferno. Anyway, I feel like I've slowly been working my way through the circles of hell, and today I've reached the middle.
I dropped two f-bombs on the Verizon lady this morning after being on hold for a total of about 2 hours and then being told that I should walk up and down the street looking for numbers on the telephone poles. Are you effing kidding me? Isn't that the Verizon guy's job? Not the lady who just moved into a new house with a 2 year old and a 9 month old to take care of too? I was livid.
Fast forward to the boys' naptime. Ben went down pretty easily at 2:20. Logan was due to go down at that same time, but continued to cry and sit himself up in his crib. After 5 minutes I put him back down, and came back downstairs. After 5 more minutes of continued crying I went back up and discovered he had a huge load in his diaper. So I changed him, rocked with him, and put him down in the crib again. Usually this is the part where he falls fast asleep (the poop release really seems to relax him). But he kept crying and sitting himself up. So at 3:00 I decided to abort the nap and try again in half an hour - that was me trying to remain calm, cool and collected.
In the past 3 days, I have not touched any of the boxes in our bedroom, and as a result I'm quickly running out of clothes to wear. I had to search and search for clean undies to wear today (necessary since I'm wearing the same jeans I've worn for the past 4 days - ew). So after the aborted nap I brought Logan into my room, explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. After a brief protest he was fine with that and busied himself chewing on a Robeez shoe that somehow happened to be in my closet.
At 3:15 Ben woke up screaming. I put Logan down then, and got Ben, who was still screaming (I think he's disoriented when he wakes up because his new room is really dark. We need to get some nightlights for him). Ben wanted to be held, so I held him for a few minutes, then explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. Ben kept screaming. Logan kept screaming. I screamed a little.
I aborted Logan's nap time, I aborted unpacking my stuff, I hoisted one boy under each arm, I headed downstairs, I dropped them off in the playroom (stopping briefly to wipe the tears that were forming in my eyes) and I poured myself a large glass of Chardonnay, which I don't even like, but I'm finding very satisfying right now.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
One Good Thing
I suppose one good thing has come out of the kids' being sick for the past few weeks. Well, for Ben anyway.
He has apparently weaned himself off the paci!
It seems as though he was so congested that he wasn't able to suck on the paci and breathe at the same time, and as much as he loves the paci, he figured breathing was more important.
We had been slowly cutting down the number of pacis in his crib over the past few weeks upon the recommendation from the pediatric dentist Ben saw in August; she said that Ben's front teeth were becoming misaligned as a result of paci use and sippy cups with spouts. She recommended that we get him off the paci ASAP and we switch to sippy cups with straws. We did the sippy cup switch immediately, as Ben had used straw cups before without a problem. The paci we decided to take more slowly, as he's very attached to it and we didn't want another huge transition on top of our upcoming move (everyone says that you shouldn't make a huge change on top of a change that's already happening, right?).
So, there were initially 6 pacifiers that we kept in his crib - the dark blue one, the blue and orange one, the white and red one, the green one, the clear one, and the all white one. He didn't seem to care too much for the clear one or the all white one, so I removed them first. He didn't bat an eye.
The dark blue one was the next to go, and I honestly don't even remember how it happened. Oops. Again, Ben didn't really seem to mind.
It was down to the remaining 3 for several weeks.
Next to go was the white and red one, and that was kind of traumatic for all of us. The white and red one had been in Ben's crib for a very long time, and he was quite attached to it. On the night of Ben's birthday, September 14th, we were all in Ben's room reading the boys a goodnight story. Steve somehow noticed that the white and red paci was broken - the nipple was coming off of the base. "They" say that this is a pretty extreme choking hazard for babies/toddlers, and pacis with this issue must been thrown away immediately. We tried to explain this to Ben. Luckily he understands the concept of "broken," and he could identify that the beloved white and red paci was in fact broken. He started to have a problem, however, when Steve put the paci on a high shelf on the bookcase, out of Ben's reach. He didn't understand that because the paci was broken, he couldn't use it anymore. He cried when he realized he wasn't getting the white and red paci back. It was so heartbreaking that I almost cried. That was by far the most traumatic paci loss yet.
The next morning, however, Ben seemed to be fine without the white and red paci. Woo hoo! We were being so successful, in fact, that the next night during our bedtime routine I simply took the green paci out of his crib without any fanfare at all. Again, he didn't seem to miss it at all.
So that left just the blue and orange paci. And that leaves us at the week when everyone got sick. Of course, when our kids are sick, we get a little lax on the rules of the house. The "typical" rules of the house state that paci's stay in the crib - upon awakening, Ben gives the paci to the frog in his crib, and there it stays. Except during times of sickness. So every morning, and after every nap, down came the orange and blue paci with Ben. He sucked and sucked and sucked on that thing. He probably couldn't believe his luck - he had several days in a row filled with the paci being allowed downstairs and watching back-to-back episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Handy Manny. What could be better?
Then the congestion started, and all of a sudden I noticed that although Ben still insisted on bringing the paci downstairs, he no longer sucked on it. He just held it in his hand all day long. It was amazing to see that even though he wasn't sucking on it, it still brought him comfort just to be holding it.
That was almost two weeks ago, and I don't believe he has sucked on the paci once since then. His congestion is almost 100% gone, and still no sucking. This seems to be one of those blessings in disguise - of course I hate that my son was so sick for such a long time, but woo hoo - we're off the paci!!
He has apparently weaned himself off the paci!
It seems as though he was so congested that he wasn't able to suck on the paci and breathe at the same time, and as much as he loves the paci, he figured breathing was more important.
We had been slowly cutting down the number of pacis in his crib over the past few weeks upon the recommendation from the pediatric dentist Ben saw in August; she said that Ben's front teeth were becoming misaligned as a result of paci use and sippy cups with spouts. She recommended that we get him off the paci ASAP and we switch to sippy cups with straws. We did the sippy cup switch immediately, as Ben had used straw cups before without a problem. The paci we decided to take more slowly, as he's very attached to it and we didn't want another huge transition on top of our upcoming move (everyone says that you shouldn't make a huge change on top of a change that's already happening, right?).
So, there were initially 6 pacifiers that we kept in his crib - the dark blue one, the blue and orange one, the white and red one, the green one, the clear one, and the all white one. He didn't seem to care too much for the clear one or the all white one, so I removed them first. He didn't bat an eye.
The dark blue one was the next to go, and I honestly don't even remember how it happened. Oops. Again, Ben didn't really seem to mind.
It was down to the remaining 3 for several weeks.
Next to go was the white and red one, and that was kind of traumatic for all of us. The white and red one had been in Ben's crib for a very long time, and he was quite attached to it. On the night of Ben's birthday, September 14th, we were all in Ben's room reading the boys a goodnight story. Steve somehow noticed that the white and red paci was broken - the nipple was coming off of the base. "They" say that this is a pretty extreme choking hazard for babies/toddlers, and pacis with this issue must been thrown away immediately. We tried to explain this to Ben. Luckily he understands the concept of "broken," and he could identify that the beloved white and red paci was in fact broken. He started to have a problem, however, when Steve put the paci on a high shelf on the bookcase, out of Ben's reach. He didn't understand that because the paci was broken, he couldn't use it anymore. He cried when he realized he wasn't getting the white and red paci back. It was so heartbreaking that I almost cried. That was by far the most traumatic paci loss yet.
The next morning, however, Ben seemed to be fine without the white and red paci. Woo hoo! We were being so successful, in fact, that the next night during our bedtime routine I simply took the green paci out of his crib without any fanfare at all. Again, he didn't seem to miss it at all.
So that left just the blue and orange paci. And that leaves us at the week when everyone got sick. Of course, when our kids are sick, we get a little lax on the rules of the house. The "typical" rules of the house state that paci's stay in the crib - upon awakening, Ben gives the paci to the frog in his crib, and there it stays. Except during times of sickness. So every morning, and after every nap, down came the orange and blue paci with Ben. He sucked and sucked and sucked on that thing. He probably couldn't believe his luck - he had several days in a row filled with the paci being allowed downstairs and watching back-to-back episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Handy Manny. What could be better?
Then the congestion started, and all of a sudden I noticed that although Ben still insisted on bringing the paci downstairs, he no longer sucked on it. He just held it in his hand all day long. It was amazing to see that even though he wasn't sucking on it, it still brought him comfort just to be holding it.
That was almost two weeks ago, and I don't believe he has sucked on the paci once since then. His congestion is almost 100% gone, and still no sucking. This seems to be one of those blessings in disguise - of course I hate that my son was so sick for such a long time, but woo hoo - we're off the paci!!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Stats
I know I can't just leave you with *no* news about the boys. So here are their current stats (taken at their 9 month and 2 year well visits last week, which I can't really refer to as "well" visits, because they were both sick):
Logan - 22lbs 9 oz; 29 1/4 inches
Ben - 24lbs; 34 inches
Crazy, right?
Logan - 22lbs 9 oz; 29 1/4 inches
Ben - 24lbs; 34 inches
Crazy, right?
No, I haven't forgotten about the blog...
I've just been trying to compose the perfect, witty post in my head about how the past week and a half has been. For now, I will leave you with this- the past 10 days have involved 5 trips to the pediatrician's office, fevers ranging from 100.3 to 103.5, mucous, eye goop, boogers, drool, and vomit all over me, 3 rounds of antibiotics, 4 - yes, 4 - holes in my kitchen ceiling due to continued leaking from the upstairs bathroom, and the stress of having all this happen when we have tenants moving into the house in 8 days.
Yikes.
Yikes.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
"I hear a symphony"
I used to go to a restaurant/bar in New Jersey called Champps (I didn't misspell that - it actually has two p's. Or maybe it has to m's. Does "Chammps" look better?) on Wednesday nights after work. Wednesday night was karaoke night. I fancied myself a bit of a rock star - I actually wanted to be the next Jewel. A few times I got up the cojones to get up on the miniscule stage and sing. The very first time, I sang "Son of a Preacher Man" - and I won. I was the first prize winner, and got $100. I was ecstatic. I was so nervous as I walked up to the stage after they'd called my name, but once I got up on stage it was amazing. And the feeling of being done - right when the song ended - made me realize why people aspire to rock stardom. The second time I won, it was for singing "I Love Rock & Roll" and that was awesome too.
Why a post about my brush with rock stardom?
Well, I still like to sing, and I want the boys to appreciate music and song, so I sing to them a lot. I've downloaded a bunch of kids' songs to my iPod and I have it going in the playroom all day long. It's funny that my repertoire, which used to include Nirvana songs and "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, now consists of the songs from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and They Might Be Giants' songs about the different numbers. (Example - "What's that out the window? A whole bunch of sevens!)
Just a few minutes ago, Ben was riding around on his choo-choo train. I started to sing, with great gusto I might add, the theme song from Choo Choo Soul, which goes "All aboard the choo choo train, all aboard, all aboard." Well, Ben did not like this at all. As a matter of fact, he came up to me and said, "No mommy! No mommy!" and wasn't happy until I stopped singing.
:(
I was stunned! I'm sure I was singing it on key and in tune... and with such passion! Genevieve, the lady from Choo Choo Soul, would have been impressed, I'm sure. How could my singing be so offensive that a two-year-old asked me to stop?! What an insult!
Maybe tomorrow I'll stick with his favorite - Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Why a post about my brush with rock stardom?
Well, I still like to sing, and I want the boys to appreciate music and song, so I sing to them a lot. I've downloaded a bunch of kids' songs to my iPod and I have it going in the playroom all day long. It's funny that my repertoire, which used to include Nirvana songs and "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, now consists of the songs from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and They Might Be Giants' songs about the different numbers. (Example - "What's that out the window? A whole bunch of sevens!)
Just a few minutes ago, Ben was riding around on his choo-choo train. I started to sing, with great gusto I might add, the theme song from Choo Choo Soul, which goes "All aboard the choo choo train, all aboard, all aboard." Well, Ben did not like this at all. As a matter of fact, he came up to me and said, "No mommy! No mommy!" and wasn't happy until I stopped singing.
:(
I was stunned! I'm sure I was singing it on key and in tune... and with such passion! Genevieve, the lady from Choo Choo Soul, would have been impressed, I'm sure. How could my singing be so offensive that a two-year-old asked me to stop?! What an insult!
Maybe tomorrow I'll stick with his favorite - Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Monday, September 8, 2008
A few things
We've had a lot of exciting things happen in the past few weeks -
- Ben got his 2nd two-year molar
- Logan became increasingly clingy (or as I like to put it, suffocating)
- Ben has started saying "I'm fine" when asked if he's okay after a fall
- Ben has insisted on wearing a "zipper" to bed - meaning one of the footed PJ's that has a zipper running from the left calf up to the neck
- Ben has insisted that baby wear a "zipper" too
- Ben has finally outgrown his 18 month "zipper" and has graduated to the 24 month one
- Logan has started clapping like a pro - especially when someone says "Yay!"
- Oh, and we're officially moving to Massachusetts in 3 weeks.
Yep, it's official - we're going to be Massholes again starting October 1st. We've rented out our house in NY and are renting a house in MA. Both leases are for 18 months so the houses will come onto the market in spring, which will (hopefully) be ideal for selling.
I'm a little nervous about the move. The past few weeks have been pretty miserable. Steve does nothing but pack when he's home on the weekends, and I sit around feeling useless as I play with the kids and watch Handy Manny. But I think this past Saturday, when I went for a massage with Jayne (btw - it was the best massage of my life) Steve finally realized that it's pretty much impossible to get anything substantial done when Logan is around. No offense to Logan - it's just that he's so demanding. At least Ben is able to keep himself somewhat amused with toys when Steve or I need to do something. I think Logan will be better once he's mobile. In the meantime, he just screams whenever no one's directly paying attention to him or entertaining him. It's so draining.
***
I've come to the conclusion that I'm a terrible blogger. I really do think about posting all the time. As a matter of fact I compose all sorts of posts in my head during the day. My best work comes either while I'm lying in bed waiting for sleep and running through the day's events in my head, and in the 10 or so blessed minutes of freedom and alone-time I get while washing the dishes. Seriously. I think of witty, clever posts about very deep and meaningful things related to parenting and my experiences, but when I sit down later and look at the blank screen it all just goes away. Can it be called writer's block when you're not really a writer?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A perfect... 9?
Ben loves to practice counting. His counting has morphed over the past month or so. He used to say, "two... three..." Then he included a few more numbers - "two... three... five... six!" Then it changed yet again, to "Two... five... six!" Then he started adding a "t" to the end of all his numbers - toot, fite, sit. Silly boy :)
Don't get me wrong - he does know the other numbers. He can repeat them perfectly, and sometimes says them on his own. We practice counting to ten regularly, and lately he's even been including the number "memmen" (eleven). He's just not so into counting beyond "sit" on his own.
Until today. Just a few minutes ago, I was upstairs packing the boys' stuff for our weekend in Va (we're leaving tonight at bedtime, hoping that they'll sleep the entire way and transfer to beds fairly easily). Ben was downstairs with Logan and Grandpa and came upstairs to find me. When it was time to come back downstairs, Ben and I held hands, and I asked if he could count. Well lo and behold he counted from 1 to 9 all by himself. He didn't repeat the numbers after me. He didn't need any prompting. I was so proud of my little boy!!
Don't get me wrong - he does know the other numbers. He can repeat them perfectly, and sometimes says them on his own. We practice counting to ten regularly, and lately he's even been including the number "memmen" (eleven). He's just not so into counting beyond "sit" on his own.
Until today. Just a few minutes ago, I was upstairs packing the boys' stuff for our weekend in Va (we're leaving tonight at bedtime, hoping that they'll sleep the entire way and transfer to beds fairly easily). Ben was downstairs with Logan and Grandpa and came upstairs to find me. When it was time to come back downstairs, Ben and I held hands, and I asked if he could count. Well lo and behold he counted from 1 to 9 all by himself. He didn't repeat the numbers after me. He didn't need any prompting. I was so proud of my little boy!!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Surpassed
Some diaper background - Ben is in a size 4 diaper night and day. He's never had any problems with his diapers leaking or being too small. On the contrary, the 4's still look a little big on him - they go way up his belly and his back. We only just moved him into 4's a few months ago. Logan is in a size 3 diaper during the day and a 4 at night. The size 3’s are really too small on him, so we’re just trying to use up the 3’s from the last package we bought. We started putting him in 4’s at night a few weeks ago because he kept waking up with pee-soaked PJ’s – because Logan loves sleeping on his stomach at night, the pee all goes to the front… and at a certain point the darn diaper just won’t soak up anymore pee, so it leaks. It’s actually quite funny – in the morning his diaper is completely sodden and waterlogged and heavy in the front, but the back is bone dry, just how it came out of the package.
Anyway, a few times in the past week, Logan's 4’s have leaked at night. So yesterday I did something I have never done in my two years of being a mommy – I bought a size 5 pack of diapers. I think it is hilarious that the 5’s are not for my almost two-year-old, but for my barely 8 month old. Hilarious!!
And wouldn't you know - this morning, though the front of the size 5 Cruiser was full, my precious baby's PJ's were lovely and dry :)
Anyway, a few times in the past week, Logan's 4’s have leaked at night. So yesterday I did something I have never done in my two years of being a mommy – I bought a size 5 pack of diapers. I think it is hilarious that the 5’s are not for my almost two-year-old, but for my barely 8 month old. Hilarious!!
And wouldn't you know - this morning, though the front of the size 5 Cruiser was full, my precious baby's PJ's were lovely and dry :)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Maternal Instinct
I've never had much of a maternal instinct. Actually, I will even take a risk and go one step further to say that I don't think I ever had a maternal instinct at all. As a young girl, I never had a desire to be the Mommy when we played House. (I always wanted to be the baby, so everyone would coo over me and say how cute I was. Can we say "insecure"?) I never played with a Barbie. The only Barbie I ever owned was given to me by an acquaintance at my 11th birthday party. Clearly she didn't know me very well. I'm pretty sure I gave poor Barbie to my 5 year old neighbor (seriously, what 11 year old plays with Barbies?).
I never dreamed of my wedding day, and never fantasized that I would some day have a beautiful baby with my Mr. Right. That's not to say I thought I'd never marry. (Um, actually at a few points in our high school career Amanda and I thought we'd never meet our dream guys and thus never get married, so we vowed that if we were still single at age 35 we'd become lesbians and have a deep meaningful relationship with each other. Luckily, I met Steve and she met Greg.) So, I always knew, or assumed, that marriage and babies and kids would be in my future... I just wasn't looking longingly towards it - especially the kids part.
Even I did meet my Mr. Right and knew that babies were a distinct possibility for me in the future, my attitude towards current babies was unchanged. I never enjoyed holding other people's babies. As a matter of fact I avoided it at all costs. When we met a new baby I was content just smiling at it from a few feet away. Of course I thought they were cute and I was always ecstatic for the new parents... I just didn't want to be directly involved in it. The thought of holding the baby brought no excitement into my heart. Is that weird? And I feel like babies and kids could sense my lack of maternal instinct too. Stephanie told me that when she told her son Zack, who was then 4, that I was going to have a baby, Zack said, "But Catherine doesn't like babies." Seriously.
I was knocked off my feet when I found out I was pregnant with Ben. I was absolutely terrified - I had no idea what to do with a baby. When people asked me how my pregnancy was going and how I was feeling, I said it was going well and I was feeling great. I said that I was one of those people who enjoyed pregnancy. But, looking back, I think that what I was enjoying was the fact that I wasn't having to face down my fears right at that moment. I had nine months to get used to the idea. And it was the same with Logan's pregnancy. Again, I was terrified - even though I had already raised one baby for over a year. Both times, the reality of what was happening - becoming a mother to an actual baby - didn't hit me until I heard that first cry. It was the most surreal thing I had ever heard. One wasn't more surreal than the other - it was a tie. It wasn't any less surreal or crazy with Logan as it was with Ben. To sum up, the feeling is along the lines of, "Holy cow - a helpless, human being baby just came out of me, and now I am responsible for its well-being for the rest of its life, including the first few years when it can't do anything."
It's a really scary feeling. Especially for someone who doesn't have a maternal instinct.
Anyway, I'm telling you all this because tonight I realized that I do in fact have a maternal instinct. After I put Logan to bed for the night and came downstairs, he started to cry. I do believe in "Cry it out," and I usually give it 5-10 minutes before I investigate. Typically, he is able to soothe himself within about 2 minutes. Tonight, though, it actually passed the 5 minute mark. I watched him on the monitor - he had his paci, he wasn't stuck on his stomach... I thought I'd give it another minute - after all, he wasn't crying his "in pain" cry, so I could tell that nothing *really* serious was going on. He quieted down again, but let out another brief cry, so I went to investigate.
As I entered the room, I was overcome by the smell of poop. The poor little guy had made a huge poop! I have no idea how it happened so quickly, in the minute between closing his door and coming downstairs. I cleaned him up, sat with him in the glider for a few minutes, and put him back into his crib. He rolled over and went to sleep within just a few minutes.
I know this might seem silly to some people, but for me it was monumental. I was able to detect when my baby was uncomfortable, and I made it right. I was right! I fixed it!
I never dreamed of my wedding day, and never fantasized that I would some day have a beautiful baby with my Mr. Right. That's not to say I thought I'd never marry. (Um, actually at a few points in our high school career Amanda and I thought we'd never meet our dream guys and thus never get married, so we vowed that if we were still single at age 35 we'd become lesbians and have a deep meaningful relationship with each other. Luckily, I met Steve and she met Greg.) So, I always knew, or assumed, that marriage and babies and kids would be in my future... I just wasn't looking longingly towards it - especially the kids part.
Even I did meet my Mr. Right and knew that babies were a distinct possibility for me in the future, my attitude towards current babies was unchanged. I never enjoyed holding other people's babies. As a matter of fact I avoided it at all costs. When we met a new baby I was content just smiling at it from a few feet away. Of course I thought they were cute and I was always ecstatic for the new parents... I just didn't want to be directly involved in it. The thought of holding the baby brought no excitement into my heart. Is that weird? And I feel like babies and kids could sense my lack of maternal instinct too. Stephanie told me that when she told her son Zack, who was then 4, that I was going to have a baby, Zack said, "But Catherine doesn't like babies." Seriously.
I was knocked off my feet when I found out I was pregnant with Ben. I was absolutely terrified - I had no idea what to do with a baby. When people asked me how my pregnancy was going and how I was feeling, I said it was going well and I was feeling great. I said that I was one of those people who enjoyed pregnancy. But, looking back, I think that what I was enjoying was the fact that I wasn't having to face down my fears right at that moment. I had nine months to get used to the idea. And it was the same with Logan's pregnancy. Again, I was terrified - even though I had already raised one baby for over a year. Both times, the reality of what was happening - becoming a mother to an actual baby - didn't hit me until I heard that first cry. It was the most surreal thing I had ever heard. One wasn't more surreal than the other - it was a tie. It wasn't any less surreal or crazy with Logan as it was with Ben. To sum up, the feeling is along the lines of, "Holy cow - a helpless, human being baby just came out of me, and now I am responsible for its well-being for the rest of its life, including the first few years when it can't do anything."
It's a really scary feeling. Especially for someone who doesn't have a maternal instinct.
Anyway, I'm telling you all this because tonight I realized that I do in fact have a maternal instinct. After I put Logan to bed for the night and came downstairs, he started to cry. I do believe in "Cry it out," and I usually give it 5-10 minutes before I investigate. Typically, he is able to soothe himself within about 2 minutes. Tonight, though, it actually passed the 5 minute mark. I watched him on the monitor - he had his paci, he wasn't stuck on his stomach... I thought I'd give it another minute - after all, he wasn't crying his "in pain" cry, so I could tell that nothing *really* serious was going on. He quieted down again, but let out another brief cry, so I went to investigate.
As I entered the room, I was overcome by the smell of poop. The poor little guy had made a huge poop! I have no idea how it happened so quickly, in the minute between closing his door and coming downstairs. I cleaned him up, sat with him in the glider for a few minutes, and put him back into his crib. He rolled over and went to sleep within just a few minutes.
I know this might seem silly to some people, but for me it was monumental. I was able to detect when my baby was uncomfortable, and I made it right. I was right! I fixed it!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Code Brown
For those of you lucky enough to not know what "Code Brown" means, let me clarify - it's when your kid poops in a place other than his diaper or a potty. In Ben's case, it mostly means it's happened in the bathtub. We used to get Code Browns pretty frequently when Ben was around 12 months old; conveniently for me, a lot of them happened in my last month of pregnancy when Steve was gallavanting around southern New Hampshire, so I got to clean Ben, the poop, the toys, and the tub all while having Braxton-Hicks contractions. Lovely.
After months of a Code Brown-free Ben, we thought we were out of the woods. We had one 2 weeks ago, though. It was an unusual Code Brown in that it happened after Ben had been bathed. Steve was getting Logan into PJ's and Ben was running around naked - which is the cutest thing ever, really - and I was doing something extraordinarily useful that I can't recall right now. I remember going to collect Ben from Logan's doorway when my eye caught something odd on the floor. "What's that brown toy on the floor? I've never seen that one before...?" Then I heard the unmistakeable sound of Ben's poop-grunt and saw his arms flapping the way they do when he's pooping, and another "brown toy" fell to the floor. Ick. At least we have wood floors. I shudder to think what people with wall-to-wall carpet would do in these situations.
I thought that Code Brown was a fluke. But tonight it happened again - in the tub. The thing that's such a pain about having a Code Brown in the tub is that you immediately have to get the kid out, because if they inadvertently take a sip of the poop-tainted water they could get pretty sick. So the first step is to rinse the kid off as quickly as possible with fresh water, get the kid out of the tub, wash each and every toy that was in the tub at the time of the Code, and wash the entire tub. Oh, and at some point you have to reach in, get the piece(s) of poop, and flush them down the toilet. Usually I let the tainted water drain so the poop is easy to grab with toilet paper.
Code Brown - definitely one of the most unpleasant things about parenting.
After months of a Code Brown-free Ben, we thought we were out of the woods. We had one 2 weeks ago, though. It was an unusual Code Brown in that it happened after Ben had been bathed. Steve was getting Logan into PJ's and Ben was running around naked - which is the cutest thing ever, really - and I was doing something extraordinarily useful that I can't recall right now. I remember going to collect Ben from Logan's doorway when my eye caught something odd on the floor. "What's that brown toy on the floor? I've never seen that one before...?" Then I heard the unmistakeable sound of Ben's poop-grunt and saw his arms flapping the way they do when he's pooping, and another "brown toy" fell to the floor. Ick. At least we have wood floors. I shudder to think what people with wall-to-wall carpet would do in these situations.
I thought that Code Brown was a fluke. But tonight it happened again - in the tub. The thing that's such a pain about having a Code Brown in the tub is that you immediately have to get the kid out, because if they inadvertently take a sip of the poop-tainted water they could get pretty sick. So the first step is to rinse the kid off as quickly as possible with fresh water, get the kid out of the tub, wash each and every toy that was in the tub at the time of the Code, and wash the entire tub. Oh, and at some point you have to reach in, get the piece(s) of poop, and flush them down the toilet. Usually I let the tainted water drain so the poop is easy to grab with toilet paper.
Code Brown - definitely one of the most unpleasant things about parenting.
Monday, August 4, 2008
More Weekend Update
Hm, so the blue and the underlining seem to have gone away. No idea how I did that, or if it was even me who did it. Oh well! I guess I'll continue on.
Have a great day!
On Saturday morning, when Steve and I heard the boys stirring at 6:30 - about half an hour later than usual; we got to sleep in! - Steve made the executive decision that we would go to the diner for breakfast. He got the boys up and ready while I prepared Logan's babyfood/breakfast and loaded up the diaper bag with all the necessary supplies - food, bibs, diapers, water and powdered formula in case Logan finished his bottle, snacks for Ben in case the food took a while to arrive, toys for Logan in case of boredom, etc. It's amazing how much stuff we need now just for a simple breakfast out. When I just have take one of the boys out by myself (not that that happens very often) I just take my regular purse with either a bottle and burp cloth or sippy cup and snack trap in it - it's so much easier. Anyway, the boys had fun at breakfast. They were on opposite ends of the table so they couldn't get into trouble with each other.
After breakfast, we decided to take a trip to the grocery store. It was actually a great time to go - it was still so early that the store was relatively empty. This was Logan's first time sitting in the cart!
(Hooray! I figured out how to move the pictures!!) As you can see, Logan really enjoyed the shopping cart cover. While Logan and I shopped, Steve and Ben got some treats.
Because who doesn't want to snack on a Munchkin while grocery shopping? Ben suckered Steve into buying that bouncy ball for him. I think we've accumulated about a thousand balls in the past few months. Ben is obsessed.
We managed to get the two-kid cart - the one with the car in the front.
Steve thought it would be fun to put Logan in the car with Ben. Ben didn't agree. Imagine Ben saying, "No baby! No baby!" and trying to push Logan out of the car...
A few minutes later, though, he had warmed up to the idea, and decided to share the car.
Have a great day!Weekend Update
We had a pretty good weekend. Steve was able to get most of his work for Friday done in the morning, so he was able to spend the rest of the day with us, which of course was a nice treat. He and Jessica (my mother's helper) took Ben into town to get a haircut - his hair was getting so long, it was ridiculous. He was really starting to look like a girl. Anyway, after they cut Ben's hair they put some gel in it and spiked up the front.
Hm. I'm obviously still having difficulty with putting pictures into the blog. They keep going up to the top of the text, and I can't move them, and when I try to move the text to where I want it, it shows up blue and underlined...? Argh. I guess this'll be it for now, and in the meantime I'm going to try to do some learning!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Fun with the Mobile
I'm watching Ben on the video monitor right now... he is so stinkin' cute. We put him to bed about an hour ago, and I've thought for the past hour that he's been asleep. A few minutes ago I thought I was going crazy because I swore I heard "Rock-a-bye Baby." So I hit the "video" button on the monitor, and there's my boy - wide awake - standing up, turning on his mobile, and lying back down to watch and listen. When the song ends, he stands up again, turns the knob to make the mobile start up again, and lies back down. God, I love him so much.
He just did it again :)
He just did it again :)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
First post
Wow, how boring of a title is that?? I've been thinking of starting a blog for a while now, but have always made excuses, such as "I have no time," "I already send the boys emails on a regular basis," etc. But today I finally caved. I think it's because things seem so calm right now - Logan is napping, and Ben is watching Handy Manny with Grandpa - that I actually think I'll be able to keep up with this. If nothing else, it'll make me get a little better about downloading pictures onto the computer - right now I download them about once a month.
(Hm... I was going to put a picture onto *this* post, but it seems I actually have to learn how to do that first. Maybe tomorrow!)
(Hm... I was going to put a picture onto *this* post, but it seems I actually have to learn how to do that first. Maybe tomorrow!)
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