Day 2 of Gratituding: The Other Bat Kid

Continuing with my attempt to become a more grateful and happy person (see previous post), here are the things I'm grateful for today:

(1) Upcycled my old 3-drawer office cart into a 'craft' station for Judah.  His art and craft supplies have been laying around in a disorganized mess and slowly driving me insane.  So, yay for sanity.

(2) The weather has finally dipped to the point where it actually feels nippy all day despite the bright sunshine.  I love cold weather because that means I can use the oven with abandon.  I love roasting meats and veggies and baking stuff.

(3) Watched Judah impersonate Batman for the better part of an hour tonight.  I mentioned the Bat Kid phenomenon to the Spouse and gushed about how awesome it was.  Judah overheard us and instantly launched into superhero mode, running around, jumping on mattresses, and the entire time shouting the Batman theme song at the top of his lungs (lucky for him the lyrics are pretty simple)--na na na na na na na na na na Batman! na na na na na na na na na na Batman!

Judah giving off his best 'tough guy' face.

Judah's go-to pose when he wants to show off his muscles.

After I praised one of his kicks, he started kicking higher and more furiously.  The recoil action on these babies was hilarious.

It was so hard stifling my laughter in the face of Judah's very earnest belief that he was indeed dishing out some very bad ass superhero moves.

If Eeyore and Debbie Downer had a love child...

It may be hard to tell from my cheery exterior, but I'm actually quite a neg-head. I gravitate toward bad news, focus on the things that went wrong, and obsess over what might go wrong in the future.

 Hardly a recipe for joy and very much against the spirit of the season--Thanksgiving.

In a famous experiment by psychologist Martin Seligman, patients were shown to drastically improve their mental well-being by doing simple things to boost their sense of gratitude. Among them, was to list 3 things they were grateful for each day.

Well, being the neg-head that I am, I very much doubt such a simple exercise could really make a dent in my strong Debbie Downer tendency, but what the heck.  It couldn't hurt.

So...three things that I'm thankful for today...(and of course instantly I'm thinking of numerous things that I'm NOT thankful for today--like how I realized I forgot my wallet as I was checking out at Target, doh!)

Okay, thankful, thankful, thankful...

(1) Didn't have to cook dinner--bought soups and sandwiches at our local grocery store.

(2) (Aside--this is taking a really long time...I've been staring at my screen for literally 5 minutes now...) Printed out some easy worksheets for Judah downloaded from a free website.  He loves doing stuff like that and it should buy me at least 30 min of peace tomorrow.

(3) Made Noah giggle like a madman for a whole 5 minutes today.  I know that sounds like a small thing, but it really was a highlight of my day!  Interpret as you will.

The Big Cheese

Noah has entered into, what I like to call, the Death Wish phase of his babyhood.

He is now always about 45 seconds away from doing some kind of serious bodily harm to himself.  He loves poking his fingers into electric sockets, pulling himself up on Judah's rickety chairs, reaching for tiny objects to stuff into his mouth and choke on, etc.

We are exhausted just trying to keep him alive.

Now that he's full on crawling, there is no moment in which we can just leave him alone to chill on his own.  He's also a squirmy fish when you try to hold him--contorting this way and that, wanting you to literally bring him the moon and other far away objects beyond human reach (to grab and put in his mouth of course).

But he's also giving off the cheesiest, most irresistible smiles now:

One of the best parts of being a parent? Not having to resist the irresistible. I can't stop planting big ol' smooches on this chubby little guy!

Quick Shots

Some quick thoughts in no particular order...

--Tonight will be Night #3 of sleep training Noah to not nurse at all during the night.  The last 2 nights of sleep training did not go well.  The first night he cried for an unknown amount of time (the spouse was on duty and he fell asleep before Noah stopped crying).  The second night he cried for about an hour.

To swat away the mom guilt while I hear Noah screaming in the middle of the night I tell myself that this is good for Noah.  I'm giving him the gift of sleep and self-soothing.  He does not need to be eating in the middle of the night anymore since his stomach is big enough to hold food for at least 12 hours.  I'm only asking him to go about 8 hours without eating (since I still do a 'dream feed').

--On the days that I have both kids to myself all day (when Judah doesn't go to preschool) I become a mean and crabby person after about the 5 hour mark.  I don't like the monster I become after Hour Five.  I have no patience.  I yell at Judah at the slightest provocation.  I lose all perspective.  I kinda feel shaky with rage and annoyance.  It is not pretty.

--I am LIVING for daylight savings this Sunday.  Our schedules have drifted way too late.  Judah doesn't sleep until 10:30pm some days and left to his own devices, won't wake up until 9am.  DTS will be my salvation...I'm hoping.

--Today we went to a pumpkin patch to kill time.  I thought it would be totally lame, and it kinda was as there were maybe only 6 kids there total, including mine!  But you couldn't tell from the smiles on these faces.  (As you can tell, these pics were taken with my crappy cell phone since I had such low expectations for the trip, I didn't bother bringing my 'nice' camera.)

Batman and a chubby stand-in for Robin.

Chubby stand-in loves having the car all to himself.

Batman likes to show Chubby who's boss.

My lil' pumpkin and his giant pumpkin.

Holding his brother for safety or trying to strangle him? It's a complicated relationship.

And with that, I'll wish you all a Happy Halloween!

I've Always Wanted a Friend

Corduroy blinked.  There was a chair and a chest of drawers, and alongside a girl-size bed stood a little bed just the right size for him.  The room was small, nothing like that enormous palace in the department store.

"This must be home," he said.  "I know I've always wanted a home!"

Lisa sat down with Corduroy on her lap and began to sew a button on his overalls.
"I like you the way you are," she said, "but you'll be more comfortable with your shoulder strap fastened."

"You must be a friend," said Corduroy.  "I've always wanted a friend."

At this point in the story, I'm usually crying so hard I can barely get the words out.  And Judah always asks, "Why is Corduroy crying?"

And I explain again that Corduroy is not crying, it's Mommy that's crying.

"Oh.  Why are you sad Mommy?"
"I'm not sad, Judah, I'm crying tears of joy.  Sometimes when something good happens, you're so happy you cry.  But not because you're sad.  Because you're happy."

Some day, as Judah grows up, I'll explain more.

I'll tell him that no amount of stuff (like that enormous palace in the department store) can ever fill the longing in your heart for Home.  'Stuff' and fulfillment are not at all the same thing.

And that even if you've never seen or known a Home, you'll know it the instant you're there.  Your heart will know what your senses have never perceived.  Because that is how we're made--to long to find the place where we are loved.  That is what makes us human.

I'll explain that a friend is someone who loves you just the way you are.  Even the one fatal flaw you thought you had that makes you utterly unlovable.  That one thing you've sought to fix all your life so that you might become lovable--that darn missing button on your overalls.

A true friend sees it.  Accepts you despite it.  And fixes it for your sake, not theirs.

And I'll explain that Home is where your friend(s) is/are.

Photo credit: www.nandphotography.net

And that the real reason Mommy is crying is because you are that friend for me.

On weather, pediatric oncology, smartphones, and my awful mandarin skills

Some random thoughts I've been having in no particular order:

Today was the first really nippy day of the season.  Usually it's cold in the morning but the sun shines through around noon and it feels like a balmy 78 degrees.  But today it was truly cold all day long.  Looks like Summer is really over now.  The changing of the seasons always makes me feel happy for some reason...not sure why.

I've been reading Emperor of All Maladies, which is about the history of cancer treatment in the US.  It always makes me sad and paranoid, reading and thinking about all the 2-6 year old kids who have cancer.  Getting cancer or my kids or spouse getting cancer is definitely on my Top Five Most Horrible Things I Can Imagine Happening to My Family.

Also on the Top Five Horrible Things list...my kid(s) getting kidnapped, somebody dying, being sexually assaulted, my kid(s) becoming meth heads later in life.

I hate thinking about my kid(s) possibly dying young.  And yet young kids die every day.  Makes me realize "Love" is a two sided coin--one side shining brighter than the sun and the other darker than hell.

I hate smart phones.  I don't want to be connected and distracted all the time.  I don't want to constantly check social media networks.  I want to be bored and sad and feel my boredom and sadness because that's reality.  That's life.  (It's nice to know that Louis C.K. agrees).  But...

...I'm seriously contemplating getting a smart phone for the Chinese language apps.  My mandarin speaking skills are pretty sucky and that's totally inhibiting me from helping Judah learn Chinese.

Words I see with Judah all the time but have no idea how to say include: ladybug, penguin, alligator/crocodile, and dinosaur.

Baby No More

Noah has suddenly started exhibiting way too many signs of growing up.

Yesterday he refused his special pureed baby foods and demanded to eat what I was eating (potstickers).  So I gave some to him and he loved it.  This behavior has continued all throughout today.  I guess this baby ain't gonna eat no more baby food.

Today while Judah and the neighbor kids rode their bikes, Noah desperately gestured towards Judah's tricycle.  I put him in it and wheeled him around.  He had the biggest grin on his face and kept wiggling his legs with joy.  He refused to get out of the trike.

This isn't really a sign of growing up, but Noah has gotten really good at "playing" the recorder (and the occasional kazoo).  I hear him toot-toot tooting on it all day long and it's a really nice, strong, musical note.

Which leads me to this...

It sounded like some weird party in here--Judah giggling and growling (like a cowboy, yeah, don't ask me) and Noah tooting away.

And they say old married people don't know how to have fun.  Harumph!

Tears for Fears

Sometimes I get so frustrated at Judah's irrational fears.

A couple weeks ago I took him to the Spirit Halloween store to pick out a costume.  He took one look inside and started high-tailing it out of there.  I tried convincing him to stay, but all the spooky Halloween decorations proved too much for him.  As I tried to physically drag him back in the store, giant tears started rolling down his cheeks as he wailed "NOOOOO!!!" at the top of his lungs.

Now what could I do?  I drove all that way on a hot day with a big fat baby in tow (who hates car seats and strollers) and now I couldn't even step foot in that store to see their selection.  I briefly thought of leaving Judah in the car while I shopped with Noah but images of kidnappers sprang in my head...and yet I still debated it for a long time.  Eventually we left with no costume.

Arrrrrrgh.

Eventually I picked out Judah's costume without him.  Glad he's not scared of his giant turtle friend.

Yesterday he picked out some glow-in-the-dark slime as a 'prize' and he loved it.  Until I opened the container and actually took the slime out.  It glooped and drooped and slipped around, like slime is wont to do.  And somehow, that gelatinous behavior was way too freaky for Judah.  He cried and wailed "Put it back in!  Put it back in!" until I finally, with a giant eye roll, put the slime back in.  Ugh.

He also has the annoying habit of being a total hypochondriac about every little nick he gets.  He won't let us see the cut and screams as if his finger was sawed off, instead of just ever so slightly nicked.  Seriously?  Calm down kid.

He gets scared with such high frequency, he now knows the term "freak out", as in "Mommy, you remember how you took me to the costume store and I got scared and freaked out?"

Um, yes, you freak out about everything.

Speaking of picking up phrases, Judah often likes to try out phrases that he overhears us saying a lot (to each other, but not to him).  Today, for the first time he said "The truth is..."

He was on the toilet and when the spouse asked him if he was ready to get off and get wiped, Judah replied "No, the truth is, I have more poo."

Attaboy.

The Grouchy Tickle Monster

Judah is in a 'tickling' phase.

A few weeks ago, he decided that tickling was the best thing in the whole wide world.  And now the instant he opens his eyes in the morning he shouts "Tickle me Mommy!"

I indulge him as much as possible but truth be told, I hate tickling.  I hate his little fingers poking under my armpits, especially with my arms loaded up with groceries and a fat baby.

I hate him thrashing around wildly while I "tickle him to death", kicking my chest and occasionally butting my teeth with his hard head.  He's at an age now that he can really throw a real force.  It freaking hurts!

But every day must begin and end with tickling.  And be punctuated with tickling episodes throughout.

And though I really hate it, how can I possibly deny Judah something that makes him wild with giggles and shriek with joy?

And speaking of phases that I'd like to see end soon...

Judah's been pooping during the night for the last 2 weeks.  He'll wake up 1-2 times needing to poop.  It seems to coincide with runny diarrhea like poop, but honestly, he doesn't poop for 8 hours during the day.  It just seems to hit him at night.

This needs to STOP.  We are tired.

Waiting for Supermom

I have a recurring dream where my family is there but I'm not.

And in my dream I keep wondering, Where is the mom?  This family needs a mother.

And then I wake up and realize, Wait a sec...I'm the mom!  Oh those poor kids.

Dreams don't always mean anything, but this one is pretty much a perfect representation of how I feel about motherhood: unprepared, incompetent, inadequate, and always behind the curve.  When is the real mom of this family going to show up and put everything right?

Sorry kids, you're stuck with me.  Forget college, I better start saving for your years of therapy!

Most days I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel like it's kinda irresponsible of the State? God? whatever powers that be to allow people like me to have kids.

It continually amazes me that, in order to drive a car, or represent a criminal in court, or teach other people's kids, you need some minimal level of education, degrees, licenses, etc.  But to have and raise a child of your own, to guide a human being into full adulthood and onto eternity or whatever fate you think awaits them, you need absolutely NOTHING--no knowledge, no understanding, no previous experience, nada, zilch, zero, bupkis.

And that, sadly is what the spouse and I started out with--nothing.  My entire babysitting career prior to having my own kids consisted of babysitting a 10 year old neighbor kid while I was 12.  I don't even remember holding a baby longer than 30 seconds until I held my own, much less know anything about how to take care of one.

As much as I love our modern individualistic existence, I have to say there is one major Major drawback.  Without living in large extended families, it's hard to learn about baby/childcare.  You lack the little siblings and cousins to practice on and you lack the older aunties and grandparents to teach you.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't ardently wish I had taken at least one college class on early child development.

So now I am learning.  Learning about little people and how they grow.  Learning about how we gain our sense of identity, competence or incompetence, and ultimately, our worth.  Learning about how we are wounded and how we pass on our weaknesses and infirmities either by imitation or over-correction.  Learning that I had no idea what patience meant in my previous child-free life.

But I'm afraid I will be too soon old and too late wise.
And Supermom will never appear.
And we will not be saved.

Noah Now

ZOMG I thought I saw Noah crawling yesterday!

One tiny scoot for Noah, one giant leap toward mobility.

It was just a couple tentative motions forward but it marks a huge milestone for us, especially since Judah never learned to crawl as a baby.  This is just one of many ways that Noah differs from Judah.

Judah was a drool-monster and wore drool bibs even after age 2.  Noah doesn't drool at all.  Judah could not entertain himself and be left alone for even 15 seconds.  Noah can happily entertain himself for 20-30 minutes at a time.  Judah loved reading books, even as a 6 month old.  Noah grows bored after 30 seconds and would rather chew on the pages.

Anyway, enough of comparisons.  More about Noah...
--He's growing teeth like crazy.  No sooner than his big top 2 teeth came out, he's already starting on the next 2 on top.

--Recently he's been horrible at napping.  I don't know if it's some kind of new phase brought on by this new mobility but he now SUCKS at sleeping during the day.  No matter what I do he will only seem to nap 30 minutes at a time now.  I have tried letting him cry himself back to sleep (even up to an hour!), patting him right away and trying to soothe him back to sleep quickly, nursing him in the hopes that would put him back to sleep, moving his nap times up or down half an hour, you name it, I've tried it.  And failed.

--He has horrible eczema but is allergic to a lot of various creams/moisturizers.  Thankfully Aquaphor is not an allergen so I slather him in it daily like butter on toast.

--He's really into sticking his tongue out and blowing raspberries now.  So cute!

--He can now (and frequently does) reach out to me to indicate that he wants me to hold him.  He also 'points' at things he's interested in by stretching out one arm in a certain direction.

--He does not care to nurse.  Unlike Judah who probably would've nursed until he went off to college if I let him, Noah's just like 'meh' about it.  The only time I can get him to latch on for more than 30 seconds is if I nurse him while he's drowsy.  This is the main reason why I haven't trained him to sleep through the night yet.  The 3 times I nurse him at night probably accounts for 90% of the breastmilk he now drinks!  But man am I tired of fragmented sleep.  I'm torn about what to do--as always with childcare, it seems like a trade-off between HIS well being and MY sanity.

Look how happy I am when you're not trying to nap me!

I can't believe Noah will be 9 months next week.  He seems to be growing up faster than Judah did (probably because my attention is divided this time around).  How could my baby, my last baby, my sweet baby be so close to turning one?  I'm in complete disbelief.

No matter how old Noah gets, this is how I'll always think of him, as a newborn.

The Long Goodbye

Today I finally sorted through all of Noah's 0-9 month old clothes and took them to a consignment shop.

I'm not at all a sentimental person and I NEVER cry.

But going through all his little onesies and newborn footies, I came as close to crying as my cold robot heart would allow.  I had no idea it would hurt so much.

Saying goodbye to your little baby forever.  That might just well be the hardest thing about parenting.  Motherhood is like the ultimate exercise in ambivalence--I SO SO SO want Noah to grow up and develop and blossom AND I SO SO SO want him to stop growing and always stay the same.

Even as I cuddle his chub and inhale deep whiffs of his sweet fatness, I'm mourning that he'll never be this small, this cute, this baby-ish ever again.

It *almost* made me want to have another baby.

In which my toddler makes me question the foundation of my ethical stance on economic charity

[Judah opens up his mini-kitchen cupboard where he stashes his hoard of fake and real coins.]

Judah: I have lots of money Mommy.  I'm rich!

Spouse: Do you want to share some with us?

Judah: Sure!  Then I won't be rich anymore.

*pause*

Judah: Mommy, I can be rich.  Or I can be generous.

Me--floored.  From the mouth of babes--what profound and interesting insight.  Even if one doesn't agree, you gotta admit that's a pretty heavy concept to wrestle with.

I can be rich.  Or I can be generous.

If you're rich and have more than enough, what is your obligation to your fellow man?
What does it mean to be generous?
How much do you need to share?
Should you share until the point where you're no longer rich?

[Note: I'm not advocating a political view, but rather asking about one's own private moral and ethical inclinations.  Please don't think I'm a commie.]

Nursing Noah

Last week has been pretty rough for Noah.

He had a couple days of high fever and then a little pink rash all over his tummy that spread up to his neck and face.  I attributed it to teething since he's growing out his top two teeth, but later realized that it might have been roseola (a viral infection).

Either way, I've been trying to nurse him extra much during his fever to prevent dehydration, but Noah is just not interested in nursing during his awake periods.  All I can really do is nurse him at night when he's too sleepy to protest.  So that meant a lot more night nursing sessions and a much more tired mama.  But the silver-lining is that I finally figured out the etymology of the phrase--nursed back to health.  It was kind of hard to miss it as I literally nursed Noah back to health.

The extra nursing was a little annoying, but what was REALLY awful was when Noah went on an all out nursing strike a few days later due to his gums being so sore from teething.  Of course I didn't figure it out until 12+ hours later and my boobs were dying from engorgement, ugh.

But after some squirts of Baby Orajel and a lot of pumping, we are pretty much almost all back to our normal selves.

All I have to say is--thank goodness for topical anesthetics!

Last week was rough, but we are back on our feet now!

Preoccupation with Occupation

There I was filling out the new patient form at top speed.

First name, middle name, last name.

Address.

Email.

Phone number.

Occupation.

Wait, what?

Occupation.

Um, um, um...my pen hovered over the blank line for longer than felt comfortable.

Occupation...

Has my statute of limitations run out for writing my old occupation--attorney?  Two months into being a SAHM, there it was, punching me in the face--all my insecurities and misgivings about being a SAHM.

I hesitated longer than I would ever have imagined hesitating over something like this.  And then slowly I started to write "s" "t" "a" and then stopped cold.

I'm not going to write that.  I can't write that.  I guess I haven't made my peace with that yet.  It felt too personal to write that.  Why should I let strangers know about something that is still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why IS it still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why is auto spell-check telling me there is no such word as 'unreconciled'?  Tangent, sorry.

This is stupid, I thought.  Why am I making this such a big deal?  And yet I couldn't bring myself to finish writing the word 'stay'.

So I crossed it all out and wrote "unemployed."

Unstucking

Lately I've fallen into a blogging black hole.

It's funny how sometimes I can't seem to write fast enough--ideas for posts pouring out of my ears.  And other times, like now, I can't be bothered to lift a single finger and type a single letter.

The only way to break out of a blogging funk, I find, is to just write.  The only way to get unstuck is to just type.  Without this perfunctory flexing of the metacarpals, I find that everything soon calcifies and a once somewhat healthy blog becomes pretty much extinct.  You turn around and realize...hmmm...I haven't written a new post for 4 weeks...and then 4 months...and then why bother anymore.

Sometimes the attempt to have a nice coherent blog entry pretty much obliterates the fun of blogging.  So to heck with that today.  Here's a random list of stuff that...well, is just random:

--I've been on a Cheryl Strayed kick lately.  Just finished Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things.  She's an amazing writer and her immense humanity and wisdom shines through in every sentence (but I definitely don't agree with everything she says).  I think I might buy Tiny Beautiful Things in hardcopy (everything I read is on kindle since the only time I have to read is while nursing) just so I can highlight phrases and read some passages over and over again.

--Noah is 8 months today.  We're finally digging ourselves out of a deep dark hole of baby care.  Most wonderfully he's now on a very predictable schedule.  He takes 2 naps at the same time every day and eats solids like a beast.  Oh how I love predictability.

--Judah has become an aggressive alpha male monster.  Everything that comes out of his mouth is about killing, hating, fighting, cutting off heads, etc.  I fear I'm raising the next great American sociopath.  And the tantrums.  They are stronger and more frequent than ever.  Terrible Threes, here we come!

--I just started watching Season 1 of Breaking Bad.  Fascinating.  Psychologically fascinating.

That is all.

Through a Glass, Darkly

These past 6 days have been hellacious.  I officially hate Labor Day.

Because of Labor Day, Judah's preschool shut down on Friday and Monday.  That means I wrangled with both kids ALL DAY on Thu, Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon and Tue (today).  The vast majority of those days, all by myself.

By the time Monday rolled around I was pretty much ready to swallow a bucket of pain pills.  And wash it down with some good gin.  Just kidding.  Not really.  Just kidding.  Only sort of.

It's hard to explain to people who haven't had the "pleasure" of dealing with babies and toddlers why it is so particularly painful to care for them for long periods of time.  And to be fair, Noah is really not the main pain.  His only contribution is his gargantuan heft (21 lbs!) that must be hoisted around the house, up and down the stairs, in and out of contraptions, etc.  He's so heavy that I literally brace myself for the upcoming physical pain as I prepare to pick him up.  Ever watch olympic weightlifting--how they scrunch up their face before lifting the barbell?  Yeah, like that.

But the real assault on my sanity comes from Judah.  Clingy, whiny, prone-to-trantrumming, disobedient, limit-testing, super-active Judah.  Plus he's gross.  I totally know what Tina Fey means when she says she's like a human napkin to her kids.  Boogers, pee, poo, snot, drool--it all gets wiped on me.  I am constantly being violated and I shudder to consider what's on his grubby little fingers.

Probably the hardest thing about Judah is his extreme need for attention.  I would probably be really down on my parenting ability because of this, except for the fact that (a) he's been like this since he was a baby and (b) Noah is nothing like this.

Noah can play by himself, as early as 3 months, longer than Judah can at 3 years of age.  Crazy right?  So crazy it made me google--kids who need too much attention--to try to figure out what the heck is wrong with Judah.  And that just reminded me why I find parenting advice so infuriating.

Nothing is clear, everything is vague.  It all "depends..."  Every article said some variation of the following--There's a fine line between giving your kid the love and attention he needs and giving him too much  and thereby spoiling him.  And where is that fine line exactly?  It never says, of course.  It depends...on temperament, personality, each individual child, etc.  Um, thanks articles, for NOTHING.

Anyway, just so I don't end on a sour dark note, here are some bright spots in our days:

First tandem brother bath time!  I hope this journey doesn't end with games of "slippery fish" in their future.

Please ignore Judah's naked butt and just focus on the fact that they're both engrossed in independent reading.

Sweet moments like these are all too brief.  Seriously, like only 0.15 seconds long.

Oh how I love (and put up with) my precious two and a half men.

As these pics prove, we do have our brief (make that very very very brief) shining moments. But still, all I can say is--Thank GOD Judah is going to preschool tomorrow.

Birthday Love

Recently Judah turned 3!

He had a little celebration at his daycare (which also nicely coincided with his last day there).

I meant to give him a 'police' party but Target doesn't do that.  But hey, the avengers are kinda like police, right?

And had another party with his church friends.

I love that Judah was sucking on a blue marker right before this pic was taken.  Sigh.

And received the sweetest homemade card from his 5-year old friend.  Inside his friend wrote: Dear Judah, I love you.  Happy birthday!

Dear Hallmark--you should have a 'made by 5 year olds' card division.  You're welcome.

And while we're on the subject of homemade stuff, here's some pictures Judah drew that I will keep until the day I die.

Judah drew this at age 2.5 and it was the first time anything he drew actually looked kind of like something.  He very deliberately made it blue because policemen are blue, of course.

Judah and Picasso both had masterpieces and 'blue periods'.

This picture, done a month later blew me away.  Judah said "It's a whale mommy!"  Um heck yeah it's a whale!  It's a whale of a whale!  To be honest I don't think the spouse could ever draw a whale as good as this one.

I'm tempted to write out a bunch of 'progress reports' about Judah at age 3--the numbers he can count up to (sort of 20), the letters of the alphabet he knows (all of the capital ones and their sounds!), the milestones he's reached (potty-trained!) or has yet to reach (can't wipe himself). But that all seems a bit tedious...even for a proud mom!

So all I'll say is this. Judah was a difficult baby, a difficult 1 year old, a difficult 2 year old, and now a difficult just-turned-3 year old.

He always has and still does demand attention and energy that no reasonable baby/child should demand of adults. He rubs us raw and wears us down and seems to really enjoy getting on our very last nerve.

But he's also fun. And sweet. And kind-hearted.

And by the grace of God, truly ONLY by the sheer grace of God, we live to tell another year!

Pillow Talk

Every night after putting Noah to sleep, I sneak into Judah's room to say a quick good-night.

I tell him I'll stay with him for 5 minutes only and we have some nice mellow conversations.  I always tell myself to digitally record them (if I can only dig out my old recorder), but I'm especially sad I didn't record tonight's conversation.

At least I can kind of reconstruct it here:

Judah: Let's snuggle.  Close your eyes!  You my father-wife (his term for husband and wife).

[We snuggle.]

Judah: Noah is our boy, he's Judah.  And daddy is...Noah!  Daddy is a baby!

[Judah giggles mischievously.]

Judah: When I grow up, I'm going to be a real daddy.

Me:  That's good Judah.  You want to get married?

Judah: Yeah.

Me: Who are you going to marry?

Judah: You!

Me: That would be great but I'm already married to daddy.

Judah: Uh...can I marry Noah?

Me:  Uh...no.

Judah:  Can I marry Mur-Mur?  (One of his favorite babysitters.)

Me:  Um, sure.  But what about marrying Alexa? (A friend his age at church.)

Judah:  No, I can't marry her.  She's just a girl.  She's not a grown-up.

Me:  But by the time you grow up, she will be all grown up too.

Judah: Oh!  Or I can marry [Judah lists the names of other little girls at church].  Or I can marry Christmas...

At which point I crack up and realize he has no idea what Merry Christmas means.

Good-night my sweet boy.

The Perks

I know I do a lot of complaining about parenting.  I can't help it.  Every day feels like a battle that saps me of every ounce of energy.

At 9 pm when the kids are finally both asleep in their beds, I am so mentally and psychically drained that I literally can not get off the couch on which I catatonically lie, staring out into nothingness like a trauma victim, for at least 20 minutes.

But of course there are unparalleled highs as well as lows.  Evidence that kids are awesome?

Exhibit A:

They love eating wooden apples while exuding chubbiness.

Exhibit B:

They love playing with rattles while exuding naked chubbiness.

Exhibit C:

They wear matching shirts.

Exhibit D:

Did I mention naked chubbiness?  Yes?  It's worth mentioning again.

The Accidental Housewife: The Accident of all Accidents

I call myself the accidental housewife, because I really never imagined I would be a housewife.  And not just A housewife, but THE housewife.  I mean, is there anything more conventionally 'houswife-ish' than living in the suburbs with 2.5 kids?  But then again, I never imagined a lot of things about the way my life has turned out (funny story about how I became a lawyer--remind me to share that sometime).  It all seems like one long series of...well...accidents.

Well, technically, I don't believe in accidents.  I believe in Providence.  But I use the term 'accidents' loosely to mean something that was not chosen by me.  Sometimes, even diametrically opposed to what I would have chosen.

Growing up in a dysfunctional suburban family (oh how I identified with the movie American Beauty), I could think of nothing worse than continuing to live there as an adult.  I may have been the only person in high school to love country music and fantasize about living on a secluded homestead, growing my own produce and tending my own livestock.  And riding horses everywhere.  Gosh I love(d) horses.

In college, my ambitions took a more humanitarian turn as I fantasized about running an orphanage in some impoverished but happy place, like Botswana.  Again, there was a lot of growing one's own produce and tending one's own livestock, but with some schooling thrown in there.

I also considered joining a circus.  Or a musical troupe.  Seriously.

This was definitely not what I pictured...but it does feel like I joined the circus most days.

Suffice it to say--kids, green lawns, reliable 4-door sedans, and the rest of that was never in the picture.  I didn't want adventure per se, but I definitely wanted a good measure of novelty and...detachment, I suppose.  Being a parent, to me, was the ultimate act of attachment.  Forever you would be committed, responsible, and completely subject to the fate of another.  Talk about shackles.

In that sense, I really wasn't into getting married either.  Sure the companionship would be nice...but it had better be one heck of a companionship that would be worth the...shackling.

And then the accident of all accidents happened--the one that started a series of somewhat inevitable events that led to my, for lack of a better word, demise.

As a newly minted sophomore in college, I met the spouse.

Actually, now that I think of it, the word 'demise' is more than fitting.  I remember feeling that exact sense of finality and closing doors within a few weeks of our meeting.  This was it, I intuited.  The end of the line.

Here would be the person I would marry.  Here was simpatico and the sense of belonging that was simply impossible to pass up.  And he would definitely not be up for country farm-living, or touring with a troupe.

And then the spouse wanted to have a kid.

And then we wanted that kid to have a friend-for-life.

And then we wanted them to have good public education.

And it was impossible to find a work situation that allowed me to spend as much time with my kids as I would like.

And now is now.

Many times I think back on the person who dreamed of living anywhere but the suburbs and I just have to shake my head in wonder.  It feels like I ran to the ends of the earth (if only in my head), only to come back full circle.

But for all the novelty, freedom and horse-riding that has been conclusively given up, I actually feel surprisingly...full...and filled.

And the Award Goes To...

Today I decided to leave Judah a little quicker when dropping him off at preschool. (The past few days I'd stay for 15-20 min.) It didn't go well at all.

After warning him that I would leave after 2 minutes and reading him a story, I promptly carried through with my words and moved toward the door. Judah was devastated--tears, screaming, clinging to me like a monkey clip-thingy, the works.

Instantly I regretted the decision to leave so quickly--obviously he wasn't ready for it. But there was no turning back now. I had to show Judah I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Besides, the preschool teacher was glaring at me and totally judging.

And so I left.

Poor Judah had giant tears streaming down his crumpled face, screaming like a torture victim. I felt bad, but honestly, not that bad. He was like this when he started daycare and he would probably be fine after 5-10 minutes. But still, it never feels good to see your kid completely fall apart because he needs you and you are LEAVING him.

This week of transitioning to a new school has been pretty tough on Judah. Always the picky eater, he never ate his lunches and had trouble going to the potty by himself. His teachers assumed he could do everything on his own but he needed help pulling his pants off (and didn't get the help in time resulting in several pee accidents).

On his second day the teacher reported that Judah cried a little during lunch. When asked why, he told her "I miss my mommy."

Another day when the spouse went to pick up Judah he was sitting off to the side on the benches, all by himself. The teachers explained that he didn't want to play with the other kids and just wanted to "wait for my mommy to pick me up."

Loner boy on the benches by himself.  At least he didn't wet his pants (again).

With all those images playing in my head, I drove home with a heavy heart and proceeded to put Noah down for a nap. Noah, going through some bad sleep issues of his own, proceeded to scream his ever-loving head off for 45 minutes while I "nap-trained" him, at which point I totally felt like I won the Mother of the Year Award.

Oh yeah, with all the ear-piercing screaming and crying today, I'd say it's in the bag.

The New Boy

Judah's first day at preschool went really well.

After meeting his classmates for about 5 minutes, he said "Bye mommy," indicating that he was basically ready for me to get back in my car and drive away.

Well that was easy!

Before I left he asked "When you gonna pick me up?"  I explained that after lunch and nap time and some more playing I would come back, just like at the daycare.  He said "Okay, hug (we hugged), kiss (we kissed), bye mommy."

So brave, so strong, my little big boy.

As always it was me that had the hardest time--wondering what he was doing and how he was getting along with the other kids.  It helped that there were some very adorable and outgoing kids in his class--3 of them instantly introduced themselves to me and rambled on about random things.  Of course, being the overprotective mom, I told them "I'm Judah's mommy.  It's his first day.  Can you help him get settled?"

When I picked him up at the end of the day he was sitting with his classmates playing with play-do.  He said he had fun, liked his new school, and had a good day.  He had one pee accident during quiet time and didn't fall asleep on his napping mat.  But on his daily report his teachers wrote that he had a great first day.

I hope things continue to go well, but I know at least one thing that's bound to get nasty--the germ situation.  They say kids get sick at least 12 times the first year they are in preschool.  Ugh.  Not looking forward to that.

My Big Boy

Tomorrow will be Judah's first day at his new preschool.

I don't know why I feel so jittery.

Probably because it's a big facility with 5 classrooms and about 20 kids in each class.  Definitely more "school" like than anything Judah's ever been at.  I hope he likes it.  I hope he makes friends.  I hope they remember to put his sun hat on him when he plays outside.

And I hope he'll be brave and let go of my hand when I drop him off tomorrow.

This is the photo I submitted to his preschool--he of the crooked smile.

My baby is all grown up.  He turns 3 the day after tomorrow, but it feels like he's already 4.  Probably because he's tall.  And because he says ridiculous things.  Like lately he's been calling me "old lady."  WHAT?!

And just yesterday he woke up screaming in the middle of night and said, "Mommy I had a bad dream.  I dreamed you were pushing out a baby."  HAHAHAHAHA.  Apparently Judah and his dad have the same kind of nightmares.

I reassured him that there was no baby in my tummy and it was just a dream, not real.  And then for the next 15 minutes he kept wimpering "no baby...no baby...there's no baby..."

I guess someone is not entirely thrilled about being a big brother, ha!

"There is a Friend..."

A couple weeks ago I had a very special treat--a visit from my dear dear friend Mandi with her sweet little guy.

Although we hadn't really seen each other in 8 years, she's one of those friends--the kind that you just know you'll cherish for all time, no matter how far apart you live from each other.  I'll never forget how floored I was when, upon hearing that I might not have someone to watch Judah while I went into labor with Noah, she actually offered to fly up WITH HER TODDLER AND INFANT to watch Judah for me.  If that's not a Proverbs 18:24 friend, then I don't know who is (well, other than Christ of course).

One of the last times we saw each other in 2005--6 moves, 3 states, and 4 kids ago!

When Mandi and I first met eons ago (before the spouse and I were even married), we instantly clicked.  So I suppose it wasn't that surprising that our two kids would click right away when meeting each other for the first time.  Almost immediately, they hit it off--giggling, running around, just good plain ol' toddler fun.  It probably helped that they are just 3 months apart in age.

We tried to pack in as much fun as possible while not wearing out the kids too much--going to the zoo, going swimming, toodling around San Francisco. Those few days flew by and too quickly it was time to say our goodbyes.

These guys gave some great goodbye hugs and kisses to each other.

The saying goes--I left my heart in San Francisco. But in this case, a big part of my heart just left.

The Child-Free Life?

Wow Time Magazine, way to rub it in.

Ever since Noah was born I've been feeling kind of beat down by the whole "raising kids" thing.  I'm not going to lie--when I see couples with just one kid or no kids, I feel pangs of envy.

I half joke to all my friends that Judah was just entering his easy phase (after being an exhausting baby and toddler) and then we had to screw ourselves all over again by having #2.  Now here we go again with the whole exhausting ordeal--the sleep deprivation, the feeling like a hostage while nursing, the fussy crying, etc, etc.

Listen, I know babies are blessings and miracles.  I know we are lucky to have them.  They are little angels of love and sunshine, blah blah blah.  But frankly, until they reach age 3, they are also huge pains in the butt.

I'm not going to launch into a litany of all the ways I've been deprived since a child emerged from my womb since I've already documented them here and here.  But let me just say this--I actually looked forward to going into labor with Noah because it was the closest thing I've had to a vacation resort since Judah was born.

Once I checked into the hospital (aside from the whole annoying labor part), I could have 3 blissful days and 2 peaceful nights without my toddler constantly demanding, whining, crying and generally annoying me.  And all meals were provided.  I could finally just kick up my heels, put on a movie, and not get up for as long as I wanted.

In reality, the hospital stay sucked because Noah had jaundice and I had to wake up every 3 hours at night, schlep down to the NICU and nurse the kid.  But in theory, the hospital stay should've been awesome.

Anyway, to be fair to the whole parenting thing--it's probably not that bad if you have relatives nearby who can help.  But we have none of that.  I imagine it makes a big difference if you can get a break once or twice a week or even a big getaway break once or twice a year.

Nope, it's an all day every day proposition for us.  No sick days.  No vacations.  And most annoyingly, no evenings off.

So yes, I was salivating just a little bit as I browsed that magazine cover article.  And yes, I fantasize about having a child-free life.

But then I see stuff like this...

...and...it makes me want to thank someone.