To sleep

Sleep has left the building.

I'm pretty sure this is what happens when you smile down at your sleeping newborn, thinking that you're just so lucky that she's such an easy baby and a good sleeper, too!

Or, maybe it's just a growth spurt. Also, I made the mistake of drinking a caffeinated soda on Friday night (it was an Orange Crush at the OC Blogger Ball. I HAD to!) I wasn't really thinking straight at the time. I do have a faint memory of giddily enjoying a frappucino while baby Bub snoozed in the stroller and I shopped, followed by a nap drought lasting four days. Google tells me that caffeine stays in a baby's system for up to 96 hours. However, I'm also reading that only 1% of caffeine ingested passes through the breastmilk, so that doesn't seem like an awful lot. Regardless, the 96 hour mark is tonight and I'm hoping tomorrow is a better day.

Last night was the worst night so far. The hours between 11:30, when I went to bed for the first time, and 3:45, when I went to bed for real, are pretty much a blur. I have no recollection of the order in which things happened, but I do know that the baby was fed, swaddled*, and repacifier-ed multiple times. I remember climbing into bed and thinking that I never truly appreciated how comfortable and lovely this bed is. I remember Bub waking up more than once, or maybe just once and never going back to sleep after I went to him the first time. I remember my husband taking pity on me at one point when he realized that I hadn't yet been to sleep, and taking over with Bub, who we think may have had a bad dream.

I did manage to get just under three hours of sleep, during which I had a nightmare of my own, involving someone in my house who had cut the electricity, waking up for good as my husband left at six-ish this morning.

So. I'm left hoping that is temporary and also wondering if she is in fact hungry when she wakes up, or waking for another reason. At three months, I still can't tell much of a difference in her cries. Mostly, I just guess what she wants based on how long it's been since she was last fed, or napped or changed. We'll see how far this system gets me.

*I would also like to go on record as officially hating swaddling. I've been using the SwaddleMe with much success, until recently. Now, when her little hands are escaping before I've even finished swaddling, my blood pressure rises and I have to leave the room for a minute.

If you're pregnant, BUY A MIRACLE BLANKET. I caved today and bought one, finally. I don't know why I wasn't using one from the beginning. I swore I would get one this time around, but I didn't. It may be a little late, but she still desperately needs to be swaddled to get any sort of quality sleep. Yes, they're pricey-ish, but you can not put a price on sleep. Trust me.

Super Easy Summer Dessert

Listen, if you're like me, dinner isn't complete without dessert. If you're also like me, you keep this particular habit a secret from your children as long as possible. Dessert for him is a special occasion, but I'm sure it won't be long before they're asking "How many bites do I have to take to get a cookie?"

Anyway.

I'm all about dessert in all forms, but I'm also about easy. Quick. Painless.

So, I present to you the quickest, easiest dessert, EVER.

Ingredients:
Cookies (store bought or home made. These cake mix cookies would work fantastically well for this. My personal favorite uses red velvet cake and chocolate chips. However, I made these with Chips Ahoy on the hottest day of the year when I was hoping to avoid baking and they were just as good.)
Ice Cream (any kind you like! I used vanilla, but get crazy with your choices.)
Sprinkles, Mini-Chocolate Chips, Nuts (optional, but fun)

Take one cookie, top with a scoop of ice cream, then top with a second cookie. For fun, roll the edges of the ice cream sandwich in the topping of your choice. Place in freezer to set. Share with friends.

You're welcome.

Little Things

Little things that made my Thursday better.

• The husband coming home from work early. HOURS early.
• Having someone to watch TV with during naptime
• Simultaneous baby and three year old naps
• Splitting up the Costco/Grocery Store/Home Depot errands
• Splitting up the kids while running the errands
• Breakfast for dinner
• Hot Tamales grabbed while grocery shopping and shared while watching Big Brother
• Waking up in the middle of the night to find that the heat had broken enough to actually need a sheet while sleeping
  

Goodbye, Hello

4:50am: The time the baby squawked from her crib, after being fed a mere two hours earlier.

5:50am: The time Bub happily called to us from his room.

6:00am: The time my husband's alarm went off because today is his first day back at work. He's been working in his classroom a little, but today was the first day he set an alarm.

Goodbye, Summer.

I have been spoiled rotten this summer. My kids birthdays are four days apart. They were born right at the end of the school year, just before summer. Just before my husband had nine weeks vacation to spend at home. Spoiled ROTTEN. I know! I admit, it almost doesn't seem fair. Like I have no right to ever complain about anything, ever again, because of the great timing of the birth of my children.

When I was pregnant, I spent so much time thinking how great it would be to have so much help during the newborn months. Next week, Bubette will be three months old.

Goodbye, Newborn.

I had so many plans for how things would be by the end of summer. My clothes would fit better. (Ha) I would be close to completing Couch to 5K. (Ha HA) The baby would be sleeping in her room, (Kind of! She naps in there! And has no problem going to sleep at night in there. It's me. I just need to put on my big girl panties and go for it.) with a normal bedtime. (Done! 7:00pm. Unless it's 7:30. Whatever. It's not 10:00pm anymore.)

I just can't believe it's over. In two weeks Bub will start preschool. Of course I'll cry, but I think it will be awesome. I truly believe he will love it, as long as he realizes that preschool is more than just a playground. I'll have alone time with my baby girl and the chance to run errands with just one child in tow. I took both kids to the grocery store last week and that's not an experience I care to repeat on a regular basis. Or ever.

There's so much to look forward to this year. I just looked over Bub's school calendar and recorded the dates for Back to School Night, Halloween parade, Thanksgiving feast, and all of the other standard preschool events.

We didn't have to go school supply shopping, just send in a check for materials. No backpack necessary, but I am poring through his closet for the perfect first day of school outfit.

Summer, as I measure it, is officially over.

Hello, School Days.

Am idiot. Send help.

Before I became a parent, I read everything I could get my hands on. I pored over The Happiest Baby on the Block until I could recite it by memory. I knew to put my baby to sleep on his back, that blankets in the crib were verboten and that baby powder was not to be used.

I remember mentioning this to my mom and watching her fight to not react. Well, then, what exactly are you supposed to use? She's very good at keeping her, "Well, we did that and you turned out just fine!" comments to herself. That's why we love her.

Still, I didn't have a good answer for her.

It wasn't really an issue with Bub. He didn't have many baby powder related needs.

Fast forward to Baby #2, The Chub. Seriously, this child doesn't need pockets because she can carry all of her worldly belongings in the folds of her neck. And thighs. And wrists. Add in ninety degree temps and you've got a situation. A situation that is stinky at best, and causing an angry red rash when the heat and sweatiness are at an all time high.

I have a rogue bottle of baby powder that I've been using, very sporadically, only when no one is looking. But, I began to feel a bit guilty about this, so I took to Twitter.


And lo, Twitter delivers.


At first I thought, Where in the world will I find cornstarch?

Then, there was this gem:


Ah, Johnson & Johnson. That I can find. In fact, why don't I take a look at this bottle that I have right in front of me and see what it says.

Pure Cornstarch

Right. So, the good news is that I haven't been harming my baby with the evil talc. Also, baby powder, apparently no longer taboo! The bad news is that my very expensive college and grad school education was all for naught. Any word on when my brain will return?

Why I'll never go to the dentist again

I make no apologies for the copious amounts of Hot Tamales consumed during my pregnancy, (and, if we're being honest, beyond) but I am paying for it.

In the form of cavities. Two of them.

I've had exactly one cavity in all my life up until now, but I'm not a regular flosser (read: I never floss) and my teeth are aging too, thus: cavity(s).

So, today was filling day. If you follow me on Twitter, you witnessed my panic attack. For the rest of you, I'll break it down. My dentist told me that she was using an anesthesia that was safer for breastfeeding moms. Safer, but she still wanted me to pump and dump for twenty four hours. Safer, but it doesn't last nearly as long. Safer, but let her know if I feel anything.

If I feel anything?

If I feel anything?

Cue panic.

I'm sure you know where this is going.

I felt something.

Fortunately the dentist noticed immediately, stopped and re-numbed me. She was then able to finish my fillings pain, but not panic, free. I gripped the arm rests on that chair like they were going somewhere. She continued to check in to see if I was okay, but I'm sure she and the hygienist were exchanging What's up with this neurotic chick glances over my head. I tried to lose myself in their conversation about their drive to Vegas this weekend, and who's driving, and how eight adults plus their luggage won't fit into that suburban no matter what their other friend says.

I was unsuccessful. I think I held my breath until she was done and sending me on my merry way.

So, that's the last I'll be seeing of the dentist for a while. At least until my next appointment in six months. Until then, I will floss. Probably.

Then and Now

Before Bub was born, my mom cautioned me not to have any preconceived notions. I think she was referring to labor and delivery, but this is good advice about bringing home babies overall. It's never like you think. I totally didn't succeed at entering into motherhood with a blank slate. I had expectations and my first born shot them all out of the water. I knew nothing.

You would think that would teach me something. You would be wrong.

Meghan's post today totally hit home in that I've been comparing Bubette to her brother from the beginning.

Many, many things are similar. My pregnancies? Nearly identical with the exception that I was much more nauseous the second time around.

Deliveries? Both babies were scheduled inductions, on a Thursday, by my own doctor. Bub was a week late, Bubette six days. Both birth stories are very similar in their specifics, although Bubette's labor and birth was much, MUCH easier and more relaxed. (I credit the world's most awesome nurse who kept my Pitocin dose at the absolute minimum.)

Their birthdays are four days apart, she weighed just three ounces more than he did.

They're similar babies in temperament too. Both are/were very easy newborns. Bub slept longer, earlier, while she's wildly inconsistent with her sleep. She's easier to get to sleep, and to date I have not had one single night where she stayed awake beyond her middle of the night feedings.

Some things are markedly different. Having Bub made me a mother. My life changed, drastically, in a matter of moments. It was a strong shock to my system how many things were different now that this new, tiny person lived in our house. I will admit freely that it took some serious getting used to. I had a heavy case of the baby blues and my anxiety levels rocketed off the charts. I would drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night, swearing that I would never have another child because it just wasn't physically possible to parent TWO of them.

Then I had my second baby. Sure, I cried. And then, all of a sudden, the tears were gone. It was such a non-event I almost didn't even notice it was happening. I don't love the interrupted sleep, but I don't feel like I've been hit by a truck every morning either. Before I was desperate for some alone time, now I'm thrilled when I can get out of the house with just one child.

Even though having two children is physically eighteen times harder than having one, I'm tempted to say that it's easier mentally, emotionally. I'll revisit that statement when they can both talk, and therefore both accost me with the why all the livelong day, I'm sure.

Until then, my now? Is awesome.

Late to the Party - Be a Better Parent Challenge

Anyone on the outside looking in can tell you it's not him, it's me. I mean, he's three. I'm the adult, therefore it's my responsibility to set the tone.

First there was this post, by The New Girl, whom I adore. I read the things she writes and want to follow her around just so I can ask her questions, because I love her perspective on things.

I was inspired by her challenge, to herself, to reign in the impulse to scream and lose her mind when she's angry or frustrated. I know that when I react to Bub's hitting or other undesireable behaviors by yelling, I'm only fueling his fire. Knowing this, though, wasn't enough to stop it.

Then I started reading Kristen's, from Motherhood Uncensored, Be a Better Parent Challenge Posts. So far there hasn't been a day's advice that I don't need to heed for myself.

Catching up...

Day 1 - Be Present: Yes. I know I need to just put the Blackberry away and listen to what he's saying (even if he's simply repeating what he said thirty seconds ago.) Easier said than done. I have found that it's a sort of out of sight, out of mind thing for me. I leave it in my purse in the laundry room, or on the nightstand upstairs. If I can't hear the siren song of new email or see the blinking red light, I'm not tempted to just scroll for a few seconds. It comes as no surprise to me that Bub is much more willing to listen to me, when I'm truly listening to him.

Day 2 -Punish Without Anger: This will probably be my biggest challenge. Going back to The New Girl's post, I get most angry when he's not listening and when he hits. Hitting is unacceptable, but there's no added value to my screaming at him to get him to stop. Telling him, again, that we don't hit, redirecting his energy by reminding him what we do use our hands for (giving high fives! hugging! blowing kisses!,) and asking him to use his words to tell me that he's upset are all much more effective ways of responding to his actions. I need a "Punish Without Anger" post-it on multiple surfaces in my house until this becomes routine.

Day 3 - No More "Good Job!": I'm actually pretty good at this. I come from an education background where we learn to use specific praise so it comes naturally to me to say, "Great job coloring within the lines," or "Thank you for taking your plate to the sink," or "I'm so proud of you petting the dog gently!"

Day 5 - 8 - Take a Break from the Kids: I think we can all say that this is easier said that done. We can't all pick up and take off for a few days. However, most of us can take a couple of hours to see a movie, get a pedicure, have dinner with friends. I make it a priority to make my monthly book club meetings and keep up with Girls Night Out among my friends. Oh, and I bought my ticket to BlogHer '11, so I will get my weekend away! Even if we're talking 52 weeks from now, it's something to look forward to.

Day 9 - Find your Triggers: My top triggers are hunger and fatigue. Not only with my children, but with everyone. Feed me, let me sleep in every once in a while, and I'm on top of my game. I also get a little pecky if I don't get a few minutes to myself every day. Even if it's after everyone is in bed, I'll take time to read or lurk on Twitter without anyone bugging me.

There. All caught up and ready for more!

Two Months

Oh, my baby girl. Two months. TWO MONTHS. I'm both shocked by the passage of time and also having a hard time believing you haven't been in our family forever. You just fit.

You greet me with a smile every single morning, and that smile, it kills me. It takes over your whole face, scrunching your nose and wrinkling your eyebrows.

You are such a content baby, except when you're tired. Usually, I catch you yawning and I'm all, "Get that baby a paci and a swaddle!" and off to dreamland you go. When I miss the cues, you lose your mind and get all screamy and squirmy. It's as if you've completely forgotten that the simple solution to your problem is to simply go to sleep. When you finally give in to the nap, the relief is written all over your face.

You've really warmed up to your daddy lately, and let me thank whoever is responsible for that particular miracle. I appreciate that you still favor me though, particularly if history repeats itself, as my time in the spotlight is fleeting.

I tell you every chance I get, and I'll tell you again: I adore you my sweet baby girl, I just can't get enough of you.

Through New Eyes

I was having dinner with friends over the weekend, and one asked about my kids. I mentioned that Bub is equal parts awesome and totally, mind-blowing-ly, challenging. When he's on, there is no more wonderful child. He's funny, sweet, smart and fun. In other moments, he's hard.

The current phase involves lots of hitting and telling me, and anyone else who's not letting him have his way, that they're a bad boy. For the record, we don't hit, nor do we use the phrase "bad boy," so I would like to know where he learned that one.

Today, while running errands, something set him off and he was shouting, "Bad boy, Mama, BAD BOY!" while smacking me with both hands. I left that store immediately, empty handed. Later, in Target, I pushed the cart away from something he was trying to destroy and he said, "Come closer Mama, so I can hit you."

!!!

Aside from this, he is the most strong willed person, let alone child, I have ever met.

Giving my friend the short version of this story, she said, "Well the apple obviously doesn't fall far from the tree."

I know, ri... Wait, WHAT?

I'm a people pleaser and a rule follower. My second word as a child was "Okay." I was a model child, if obnoxious adolescent.

She agreed with all of that, but pointed out that I like to have my way. That it bothers me, greatly, if I don't get my way.

Well. Okay. There may be some truth to that. But I certainly don't fly into a rage smacking those around me when things aren't being done my way. Then again, I'm twenty-seven years older than my child.

I admit that when he acts like that, I have no earthly idea how to handle him. We've tried praise, time outs, ignoring undesirable behavior, taking away privileges and toys. Some things are mildly successful, and some days I find myself blinking back tears of frustration when he just. won't. listen.

I adore this child. Seeing that he is who he is because of me, rather than in spite of me, should help me to remember to calm down the next time we're locked in a battle of wills. One can only hope.