My sweet baby

AAt 4 months old I can say now, by looking back on this blog, Baby Macaroni is my sweet baby. She is my cuddly, smiley, attached baby and I love it.

I also adore the 4 months stage. It is my favorite baby stage by far. Not so fragile anymore, but still not yet rolling and scooting and trying out independence. Others may argue other milestones, that's fine. I relish each morning when I hear her familiar coos coming from the bassinet and when I look over she gives me the biggest smile. My reluctance to move her into the nursery is growing but it needs to happen soon. She is almost too tall for the bassinet and our evening chats are beginning to wake her up. Sigh. This chapter is coming to a close and I am simply not ready.

The upside is so far Baby Macaroni is putting her big sister to shame when it comes to sleeping habits (knock on wood!). We will be having some pack and play sleeps over the holidays which will hopefully serve as the transition into the nursery. But unlike The Babe, who we couldn't wait to move into her own space, this move will be bittersweet for me.

On The Babe horizon I am attempting to change my language use around her and about her. Reading (another) article I learned by describing her as a "wild child" and "a handful" I may be reinforcing the negative instead of turning it into a positive. So I will now be using the words "passionate" and "energetic" to describe her whenever possible. Perhaps it will change my reactions to her, maybe not. It's worth a shot. It feels as though I am always talking about our struggles, of which yes we have many,  but we also have a lot of successes I don't talk about as much. Why is it so much easier to talk about the challenges and not the accomplishments? Is it our desire not to appear to be bragging? Is it a fear of making another mother feel less than? What is it? Do you feel as though you are frequently talking about the negative and not the positive? Is it just me?

~ H

Why I want to be my toddler

I am watching my toddler lay on the floor, grunting at me with her shirt off and her hair askew and I'm thinking, "wouldn't that be nice?" while I furiously clean the kitchen. When I start to think about it, there are a bunch of reasons I would to trade places with my (almost) 3-year-old. Here's are some:

• Macaroni and cheese - she gets to eat this a lot. Probably more than is recommended. Sometimes I put peas or mixed vegetables in it, but sometimes I don't. Her macaroni and cheese looks pretty good when I'm choking down kale.
  
• Pants off dance off - the majority of afternoons The Babe is without pants at our house. She wakes up from her nap without pants and they rarely make it back on before bed. I cannot walk around the house with my pants off. The neighbours would think I am weird. Or a nudist. Which is also kind of weird.
  
• Taking what you want, by force - socially unacceptable for adults, but tolerated in toddlers. Though we encourage her to share, take turns or find another toy, I think sometimes we all just want to rip something out of someone hands and then run away. Admit it, you're smiling at the thought of this right now.
  
• Laughing at things which are not funny - if I laugh at something which is not funny, I either missed something or I am depraved. But The Babe laughs at the strangest things, including inflicting violence on her dad and I, and often I wish I could find the humour in singing a song incorrectly.
  
• Laying down anywhere she damned wants - The Babe lays down at the park, in the kitchen and even at Superstore. She gets comfortable and hangs out on her stomach no matter where we are or who is around. Sometime, especially at work, I just want to lay down on stomach to get stuff done. I think my productivity would go up, even if people couldn't see me at my desk.
  
• Stickers - enough said.
  
• Playdoh creativity - when we bust out the Playdoh The Babe is coming up with numerous ideas and scenes, whereas I am like, "here's another bowl..."

Finally I think I would like to be my toddler sometimes because of her ability to shift from sad to happy in a split second and completely forget whatever wrongdoing just occurred. It takes me a solid 3 days to let it go when my husband forgets to bring me home chicken wings if he's gone out the pub after hockey ;)

~ H

Birthday wars

As in The Mommy Wars, but with birthdays. I got into them, big time, and before I knew it, The Babe's last birthday parties became a little over the top. Here's a photo of my Pinterest-inspired Sock Monkey themed set up for The Babe's 1st birthday:

Yes, the brown cupcakes do look like poo. I realized that after a number of snickers from our male guests. Now here are two more photos of my Pinterest-inspired Sesame Street themed set up for The Babe's 2nd birthday: 

You don't even want to know how long it took me to glue together the cupcake toppers.

So you know what I'm thinking for The Babe's 3rd birthday? Screw Pinterest. That's right. I said it. You know what I did for her upcoming birthday party? I went to the party supply shop 10 minutes away. I bought some plates, balloons and some cute dinosaur noses. I will not be making decorations. GASP!!! The horror! I will be ordering one sandwich platter from Costco and they will not be themed sandwiches. ANOTHER GASP!!! How dare I! I don't even really want to serve cake, so there! She doesn't like cake much, she likes cheese more, as most of you know by now.

There will probably be cake, let's not get to crazy in my rebellion.

I refuse to take part in birthday shenanigans this year. I will not be cutting things with cookie cutters, I will not be labeling my snacks with dinosaur-themed names. I will be opening my doors to our family members, offering them some drinks and store-bought Chicago Style popcorn and sitting back to enjoy the fact that we have survived another year in tact and managed to teach The Babe a thing or two, go on a few outings and even a vacation!

The Pinterest-inspired birthday party was mostly a pat on the back for me. "Look how creative I can be! Even though I'm working full-time, raising a toddler, and keeping the house clean(ish), I can still find time to make paper handicrafts and artful veggie platters!" I don't regret it; it was time-consuming but fun and I did like the way everything came together. I just don't want to do it anymore. I have realized I don't need to prove anything to anyone, because the only person who puts a value on matching snacks is me. The Babe just wants to play with her cousins and hug her grandparents. My husband only wants The Babe to have a good time and for me to have less stress (read: opposite of elaborate party). Our families just want to celebrate. So I'm going to chill out, use the same Happy Birthday banner I made two years ago, and let The Babe wear whatever she wants to wear that day.

I did splurge and get one outrageous thing for this year - a pinata. But I didn't make it ;)

~ H

The order of things

Never before in my life have I been so in tune with the order things go in. All thanks to The Babe. "Me first!" is the most common phrase at our house right now. Followed in popularity by "no, that's not right!". She has to be first down the stairs, first to the car, first in the car and first pretty much everywhere else. She is also fixated on who does what. "I want DADDY to drive!" and "YOU get my water cup!" have left us in a bit of a conundrum - do we stand our ground, insisting that we will not be told what to do and then face the wrath of a grown McScreamy? Or do we kowtow to a 2-year-old's demands because some days it is just not worth the fight? It is infuriating to be bossed around by a tiny tyrant but, truth be told, some days I am so in my head that I am on autopilot and just get her the water cup without hesitation. Am I feeding the beast? (Let's be clear - the bossiness is the beast, not my child). 

The dictating also comes at a very loud volume, something which has been noticed by friends, family and now preschool, much to my horror. My ominous statement to my husband about receiving teacher comments in regards to her "inside voice" have already begun to come true. She is one loud and bossy toddler who insists thing be done a certain way, and while some days it is very cute that she wants to be first in the bathroom to get on the big potty but not before she takes off her own pants, other days I know my neighbours can hear me stating "Just get in the car! It doesn't matter that you didn't get to open the garage door today! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!!!"

Oh, I am beginning to have an idea where she got the loudness from. 

As I sit here on the couch, relishing a quiet moment because The Babe is at preschool and Baby Macaroni has fallen asleep in the play mat (amazing I know), I wonder how many other moms are feeling this pull? I want The Babe to be strong, confident and sure of herself, so I hesitate to always tell her to be quieter, not so loud. But I also want her to stop yelling! So I tell her to "shush, use your inside voice" or "stop telling me what to do" and then either feel guilty that I am stifling her or mad because she is only quiet for two minutes before going back to yelling at me from her bedroom. Gah!

I guess the silver lining, if there is one, is Baby Macaroni will probably be a heavy sleeper and good a lot taking direction due to her sister's bellowing commands. Right?

~ H

Maternity leave melancholy

I am entering month four of my maternity leave. Let me begin this post by saying of course I am extremely grateful for the lengthy maternity leaves I am able to take by being in Canada. I realize this is not the case for everyone. 

My first maternity leave was amazing, due mostly to the fact that I was able to connect with a group of moms from my prenatal yoga class who were all due within two weeks of my due date. We went through our maternity leaves together, filling our days with walks, sushi lunches, potlucks and a lot of tears, some happy and some sad. We supported one another. Then we slowly all started returning to work and life changed differently for each of us.

Fast forward to me on maternity leave now and there is no close group of 6 moms with babies the exact same age as mine. I also now have a toddler to add to the mix who has her own schedule. So I am finding this maternity leave much more... lonely. Which is ironic because this time around more of my friends have babies. But those babies are older, on different schedules, further away, and I also am finding myself less inclined to go out. Going out for lunch now means trying to get The Babe to stay at the table instead of under it, while nursing Baby Macaroni at the same time. The Babe naps for at least two hours in the afternoon, so that often dictates when and where we go, if we go out. Also, as I have talked about in previous posts, I get anxious when contemplating car rides because Baby Macaroni wails as soon as I put her in the car seat. (This is not in my head, I know have several witnesses who can attest to it). Plus, there is just more stuff to do! More laundry to wash, more errands to run, more groceries to buy because The Babe needs lunch everyday even if I don't. A neighbour just commented to me that she thought I might be sick because I'm out so much less with this baby than the last one. Which isn't exactly true because we have a tonne of activities which The Babe goes to: StrongStart, preschool, swimming lessons, dance class, open gym time - this is all in one week. But it's definitely less social for me and I am a social butterfly so it has been harder for me this time around. 

I don't expect much to change for awhile, not until Baby Macaroni gets better in the car and friends' schedules change. Going into winter, I'm definitely going to have to make an effort to get out, be social and get active. Today, despite the monsoon outside, we got dressed and hit up the open gym time at our local rec centre. I was pleasantly surprised when The Babe's old daycare class showed up and I got to chat with the staff while The Babe horsed around with her old playmates. But next time I'll remember to wear Ugg or Hunter boots if I want to fit in with the other moms ;p

~ H

They say

I am about to start reading a new book, when it comes back into the library,  called 10 Mindful Minutes. The descriptor in the jacket talks about learning and giving our children the social and emotional skills to reduce stress and anxiety. We could definitely use this in our lives right now. But before I read it, I would like to ask my friends and family to stop me if I start in on the "they say" route I so often find myself on. I, like many parents I'm sure, read a lot of books, articles, blog posts, etc. on parenting tips and techniques. Once I finish, I attempt to incorporate what I have learned into my day-to-day parenting. I also offer suggestions ONLY WHEN ASKED (I hope...) and often find myself "they say"ing. And I sound like a dick. I know it. But I can't seem to stop myself. With all the information available to us from both medical professionals and industry experts, it feels as though we're moving further away from the village and more towards Dr. Google. I get it - we now live in a time where we can access medical studies with the tap of a thumb and see 10 reviews of the Happiest Baby on the Block to know if it fits with our parenting style. That's nice, but when I ask someone what solid food they started with first for their baby, I want to know what they picked, not what the World Health Organization recommends. I want to know how YOU got your baby to sleep, not what Dr. Feber touts. 

So if I start going off, friends I give you permission to give me a light flick on the arm or a gentle nudge. Remind me that you asked what I did, not what I read. Because I will be honest and say that we started solids with carrots and then moved on to applesauce with cinnamon, only to have a skin reaction which completely freaked me out. I will be honest and tell you that I cannot, for the life of me, remember to brush The Babe's teeth so there is no regular routine we follow for that one.  And you know I will be honest because I write this blog ;)

On a completely unrelated note, I'm losing the battle with hand washed dishes having a greasy film afterwards - is it my soap? The brand? Not enough in the water? Water too hot? My using a crocheted cloth instead of a sponge or brush? I cannot figure it out, so tips and tricks are welcome also. As long as it's something you've done, not just something you've read :p

~ H

Curve balls

You know, those things life throws at you when you have everything planned right to a T. You've heard of them? Well, this past week life threw us a huge curve ball in the form of a very curable, non life-threatening, short-lived illness. Rewind to the holiday Monday and I was leisurely waking up as The Babe and my husband were at his parents' house after assisting on a weekend project. I chose to stay home as we had not one but two out-of-town getaways coming up over the next two weekends and I needed the long weekend to rest, get prepped and not drive too far with a 6-week-old who hates the car. As Baby Macaroni and I slowly got up and started our morning, I noticed I was feeling extremely sluggish, as well as feverish, and had pain in my left breast. I knew immediately that this was the dreaded mastitis and that I was right in the thick of it. I messaged my husband to come home when they could, as I needed to rest and hydrate and hopefully nip it in the bud. In the meantime, I called in one of those favours people throw out when you have a baby, "call me if you need anything", and I asked a friend to come over and hold the baby while I slept. She did, and I did, and then The Babe and husband arrived home soon after to take the next shift of baby-holding.

Twenty-four hours later I was no better, and after a visit with our family doctor and a confirmed diagnosis of mastitis, I arrived back home with antibiotics and a growing concern that we may not be able to attend the out-of-town wedding we were scheduled to this weekend. But with rest, hydration and drugs, the chances were still good. I took the drugs, stayed fairly hydrated, and probably didn't rest as much as I should have. That's when life decided to turn that curve ball into a fast/curve ball as Thursday afternoon I developed a case of the chills and fever aches I couldn't shake as well as pain in the other breast. I called my husband, who was working close by, and asked him to come home. I have never experienced anything more freaky than having to put the baby in the bassinet and get the toddler set up in the event I might pass out while waiting for my husband to get home. The worst part was feeling unsure if it was all in my head. Did I really need to go to the hospital? I know the doctor said to if I wasn't better in two days, but really? The Scottish part of me screamed out that if we went to the hospital, we probably couldn't travel to the wedding which would mean we would most certainly lose the money for the hotel reservation because it was that same Scottish part of me that booked the promotional room rate which may have been non-refundable... The masculine part of me told me to buck up and put on a third sweater. The mom part of me was terrified to take out 6-week-old into a germ-infested hospital before she has had her vaccinations. But in the end, my husband just said we were going and I was too sick and too smart to disagree. Friends watched The Babe for us and we were off.

The thing about curve balls is you don't see them coming, so you can't prepare for them. And when you can't prepare for them, you may find yourself in the emergency room waiting room with a newborn who just had a diaper explosion (damned Huggies) and you have no spare pants in the diaper bag (my mommy friends are not shocked by this, I am often out of something) and you use up all the wipes you have in the diaper bag (there are extras in the stroller though, ha!) and you then spend the next three hours taking shifts between walking and nursing the baby to keep her quiet in the assessment area of the emergency room. All of this was happening as I was waiting to eventually find out that I need a 3-day course of IV antibiotics, which meant our out-of-town trip was most certainly cancelled and I had a 7pm date at the hospital for the next two nights. Hurray for curve balls! Not really.

We are out of the thick of it now, having finished my treatments and enlisted the help of family with laundry, dishes and child-minding. There was a silver-lining to it all, which I managed to find: for half an hour I was forced to sit in a chair away from my family and I got to read a book. Which was pretty nice. Except for the needle in my arm part ;)


~ H