Becoming Mother

A book and a blog for first-time mothers

Tag: preschool

Birthday Parties: Stream of Consciousness # 1

One thing that I miss about the time before Child # 2 was having a bit of time to write out real-time reflections on parenthood. With one child, I was able to do quite a bit of that because naps existed and there was just one child to take care of.

With two kids, it’s pretty impossible to do much blogging as I once did. At least the kind of blogging that I prefer. The kind where I revise, revise, and revise until it’s just right.

But it’s a new year and it’s time to get realistic about how I use my time. I love to write. I love to share my writing with others. I work. And I also take on far too many creative projects, which I am not willing to give up because they all bring me joy.

So my goal is to change my methods and standards for writing this year.

For this year, I’m going to blog in a more stream-of-consciousness style. Not because I don’t like to revise and make everything just-so.

It’s more out of necessity.

So excuse the typos and love me for my Flaws (of which, I’m sure there are many).

***

So Henry will forever celebrate his birthday on Groundhog Day. Which I think is payment for putting me through 11 additional days of pregnancy past his due date, which, at the time, made me feel like I was living my own personal Groundhog Day again and again.

Three years later, I mostly remember his birthday as being a test of sheer willpower to confront pain and refuse to give up.

And there was lots of screaming.

And too much blood.

And this.

Isn’t it disturbing/befuddling/miraculous that time helps us summarize the most momentous of days in such few words?

***

In any case, we celebrated Henry’s birthday yesterday, and we came out on the other side of it unscathed and only somewhat frazzled.

One of the dads that came asked me while I was getting ready to serve cake and eleven kids were chomping at the bit for sugar how I could “be so calm.”

That was pretty much the best compliment I’d gotten from a stranger in a while. If “calm” is what I’m projecting, seriously, I deserve a medal.

I said, “It’s because I’m not expressing everything in my head.”

Which is so true.

I think that’s what the second/third/nth child does to you–they elevate your threshold of what your expectations are for what you deal with during the day.

What do you do if you go from zero kids to twins? Or triplets?

Yeah, those parents deserve more than medals.

In any case…

Kudos to my husband for cooking the food for the party: a gluten-free, dairy-free pasta bake and broccoli. Sounds gross. It’s really not. But this is what you have to do when your kids have allergies.

And hey, did you know that basically every birthday party has pretty much the same menu that neither of my kids can eat?

Pizza, cake, and ice cream.

Gluten-free, dairy-free cupcake (courtesy of me)

It makes for a lot of texting back and forth with parents who are hosting birthday parties.

The good news is that just about every parent I’ve communicated with is more than happy to secure an alternative.

#inclusiveeating

For whatever reason, we’ve been to about five birthday parties in the last four weeks. ‘Tis the season? I thought kids had birthdays throughout the year, not just in the winter. But okay.

I guess this has been about birthday parties.

Title found.

See you next time.

A birthday cake with Grover and Cookie Monster. It says "Henry" and "3."
Not dairy-free or gluten-free (courtesy of my amazing Mom)

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

how-to-break-up-with-someone-0-1024x512

Photo credit: http://www.ottmag.com

Especially when you’re breaking up with a long-standing, beautiful relationship with…

A two-hour nap.

Oh… The peace. The quiet.

The freedom.

Two hours is a whole movie.

It’s two episodes of Game of Thrones.

And with just one child at home, it’s occasionally a nice time to… Yeah. You know.

One some glorious days, the two-hour nap would turn into a three-hour nap.

So luxurious.

But as I mentioned in a previous post, our three-year-old daughter is dropping her midday nap. Her body is shifting to require only ten hours of sleep per day instead of her usual twelve hours.

Unfortunately, daycare isn’t on board. According to State of Ohio regulations, she still needs to spend 1 hour and 45 minutes on a cot during an 8-hour stay at daycare. Now, she doesn’t have to sleep. She could stay awake and look at books.

But she doesn’t. She falls asleep every time.

Her daycare teacher exclaims, “She’s a great sleeper!”

Well, for you, she is.

For us, that lovely midday nap now means that she’s still rockin’ at 9:45 p.m. 10:00. 10:20. I, on the other, am officially done with the day at 9:15. I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally depleted by this time and it’s even harder now because I’m pregnant.

Which is why I’m more than thrilled that my husband is willing to keep vigil after I’ve gone to bed. Just to make sure that she doesn’t escape her room while she is trying to go to sleep.

***

As I saw Labor Day Weekend approaching, my first thought wasn’t, Ahhh… A relaxing weekend.

My first thought was, Oh my God, that’s three full days without daycare or naps. What are we going to do to get out of the house so I don’t go nuts?

I did research. I amassed a list of things we could do. The county fair. The Renaissance Festival. The Cincinnati Museum Center. Boonshoft Museum of Discovery. Yes. We have options. I can get through this, I thought.

I ran the plans by my husband. His response was:

“I need to get work done outside.”

“What work?” I asked.

“That retaining wall needs to be redone. It’s not level, so it’s causing the A/C unit to shake. That needs to get done this weekend.”

My first thought was, Can’t you do that another weekend? Any other weekend? Please-for-the-love-of-God?

We are not so advanced in potty training and managing temper tantrums that I’m willing to go it alone to any of these places. I need a partner.

I imagine the worst. A poop accident that requires four hands to clean up.

Or an all-out tempter tantrum that requires me to carry her like a bundle of firewood back to the car. And I cannot manage that now that she’s 40 pounds and I’m 5 months pregnant.

But, the retaining wall.

We settle on doing something together on Labor Day, giving him two solid weekend days to re-set the retaining wall.

***

By 4:00 p.m. on Sunday, I walked out of the house, straight to the backyard and announced:

“I need to get away from her. I’m going to the store for an hour.”

I cried all the way to the grocery store, chiding myself the whole time about making such a big deal out of nothing.

So what happened?

She’s three. That’s what happened.

Sometimes, she’s sweet as pie. Other times, she’s sass-a-frass. And when you’re the only person bearing the brunt, it just. Wears. You. Down.

She’s not that bad. She’s a normal three-year-old. Yeah, she acts defiant. Frequently. But that’s normal. 

There’s nothing to cry about. Why are you crying? If you can’t handle this, you really shouldn’t be having another kid. 

What are you doing with your life? 

What is wrong with you?

***

I did a slow grocery shop. I took my time. I reminded myself that, hey, I’m 5 months pregnant and my emotions are hard to manage when I’m tired and I have no break.

I forgave myself.

Then, I came home, dropped a medium Wendy’s French fry in my husband’s lap as a thank you for helping out, sat down on the freshly re-set retaining wall, and had a good cry.

He put his arm around me and let me talk.

Then, he sent me inside and said, “Take some time for yourself and come back when you feel better.”

So I did.

I took another hour to take a long bath and shave my legs (finally). When I came downstairs, I was ready to help with dinner.

We ate together and laughed a little.

At 7:00, I was ready to take over again. I sent him back outside to finish the wall. I gave our daughter a bath, read to her, tucked her in, cleaned the dishes, finished the laundry, and vacuumed.

And fell asleep around 9:30.

I heard my husband walk into the bedroom later on. I checked the clock.

10:20.

But the wall was finished.

***

Parents of older kids sometimes tell us that, “Things get easier.”

But then they’re quick to add, “Well, some things get easier. Other things get harder.”

They are right.

In exchange for letting go of naps and diapers, we’re entering a new world of possibilities of ways that we can spend our time with our kids. Beyond the kitchen, the dining room, and the playroom.

We go out. We show her new things. She is delighted and her delight is palpable. We can actually enjoy experiences together.

But right now, I feel caught in the middle. She has moved beyond naps, but she hasn’t risen to the level of self-sufficiency that makes me feel comfortable enough to wrangle her by myself. Maybe it’s my personality. Maybe it’s the pregnancy. Maybe both.

Yes, I know. It’s all a phase. One big, giant phase.

But this next phase… It’s turning out to be a lot harder to adjust to than I thought.

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