The second time round

A quick post to update on the second time round and, surprise, I'm writing it when I should be sleeping. The second time round, it's not any easier to sleep when the baby is sleeping because you still want to clean, read, write, check Facebook, etc. The only reminder/push is that The Babe naps around 1pm so I am trying to nap then too.

The labour was quicker - 5 hours total, 1 hour active and under 10 minutes of pushing, all drug-free, comparing to the first - 10 hours total, 3 hours active and over an hour of pushing with an epidural. The recovery was quicker, the nursing easier to get started but still facing latching challenges. The first week home has been great. My mother-in-law is here and she is amazing; playing with The Babe, holding Baby Macaroni so I can sleep, clean, eat, and also play with The Babe, cleaning and just providing me with some company.

The sleep or lack thereof...well the first night home I thought we did pretty good. Lots of wake ups, but a few long stints of sleep which meant the next day I was feeling good and not too bagged. I thought, "hey this isn't as bad the second time around!" Fast forward to more nights which involved cluster feeding and some long stretches of awake time and my body is now saying "noooooo 😩". So that part is pretty much the same as the first time around.

Getting out of the house: so far so good but again, my mother-in-law is here and extremely helpful. We've been to the doctor on Day 4, followed immediately by a trip to the mall and a leisurely lunch at a restaurant. Today we went blueberry picking AND spent the afternoon at a local fair, but that was too much and now my back and abdomen are killing me.

The biggest difference we notice so far is our ability to draw on our experience. I either know now if I am doing something right (latching) or else if know that I am probably going to do it wrong (everything else) but my first child seems to have turned out okay despite any wrongdoings  ;)

I know it's going to be different next week - no MIL here to help and my husband back at work full-time. Running errands seems daunting, so I may just...not.  

~ H

Toddler bedtimes and self righteousness

A short blog post this morning about a little reality check we had at our house this week. Two weeks ago we moved The Babe into her new "big girl" room in advance of the arrival of Baby Macaroni. She loved it! She had picked the wall colour, the ceiling light and her dad made her a chalk board she can draw on whenever she likes. We bought some jungle animal wall clings and she picked out a bunch to put on her walls. We approached the first few nights cautiously, awaiting the anticipated wake ups, walks back to her room, tears and fights. But to our surprise, the transition was extremely smooth. When one night she said her room was scary, we picked an animal cling to place on her night table to protect her and voila, problem solved! Looks like all the prep work and conversations we had worked like a charm. We gave each other high fives and revelled in our parenting awesomeness.

Naive. Amateur. That's what that was. Turns out she was just waiting two weeks  to lull us into a false sense of security before she showed us her true colours and dropped the hammer. The last three nights have seen bedtime stretch out over an hour and a half and could be easily compared to dinner and a show. We were taken off-guard and our defences were down. We didn't know how to react and were scrambling for effective techniques that do not involve a sleeping bag cinched tight at the top to avoid escape or holding her door handle closed for two hours. Two nights ago I awoke to a sound at 4am. When I rolled over, she was standing on her dad's side of the bed, perched on the bed frame, staring at us and asked to come into bed. It was one of the more creepy moments I have ever had and I may have screamed a little bit.

After repeated nights of hallway dancing, requests for water, screaming and flopping around like a rag doll, it became clear we may need a little help. Luckily, our friend is an amazing sleep consultant (note: this is not a sponsored post - she doesn't even know I'm writing this right now) who owns Sleep Stars Consulting and she gave us some great tips for having a united front. Last night we approached the situation strategically - having a team mentality and staying consistent. It still took an hour to get The Babe to sleep, and she did wake up once in the middle of the night screaming about monsters, but she stayed in her room until 7:30 this morning. Sweet relief!

We are not going to make the same (silly) assumption that we have tackled this stage completely, but it sure feels nice to be on the same page. And if we're going to be spending the evenings for the foreseeable future running defence in our hallway, we might as well get a sense of humour about it:

That one is going in her wedding slideshow for sure.

~ H

Less than a month

To go until this baby arrives. How am I feeling? Scared. Excited. Nervous. Hungry. Uncomfortable. Mostly hungry. Strangers look at me and say, "your first?" I tell them no, and explain this baby can stay in there as long as she wants, that I'm in no great rush to lose more sleep and attempt breast-feeding once again. As always, I try to be honest, with myself and with others. There's no sense hiding the fact that I have no idea what life will look like with a toddler, a newborn and an elderly dog every day for the next year. I've been at work for the last two years, spending most days talking to adults. These first few weeks of maternity leave have left me craving adult conversation, and I haven't even had the baby yet!

I'm nervous the enthusiasm The Babe shows for Baby Macaroni now will wear off quickly once she arrives home. I'm not sure how her newest form of tantrums - screaming at the top of her lungs - will go over when I'm bleary-eyed and the baby has just finally gone down for nap. Will my toddler drive me to my breaking point? Will she turn into that unicorn who loves her baby sibling more than anything and only wants to help Mommy? Will I only feed her cheese because it is what she is always asking for anyways? Will I only eat cheese because it will be the only grocery item I can remember to buy? 

I am also feeling some guilt for Baby #2, knowing that for The Babe I wrote number of letters during my pregnancy and soon after to her in the event I am not around to tell her about my pregnancy. I have not done that for Baby Macaroni because I have been too damned tired, busy, forgetful, etc. Yes, I can start today. Or buy a notebook and write "read your sister's" on the front page. I'm sure that would make her feel super special ;) I also have bought no new clothes for Baby Macaroni other than a 3-pack of white onesies, relying on the 90% chance she is also female and I will have more than enough of The Babe's handmedowns to clothe her forever. The 3-pack of onesies is to cover the 10% (this is not a scientific percentage by the way,) that Baby Macaroni is a boy, as the ultrasound tech couldn't be 99% sure either way. Will I need new clothes? How many clothes in the first year are seasonal? I can't remember how many onesies I was able to keep, with the constant diaper blowouts and foray into cloth diapering. I'm guessing, like labour, I will just know when it is happening. I hope.

In the meantime, I'm cooking up a storm of freezer meals and going through years of clutter while stuffing my face with ice cream because it is the ONLY thing I want to eat most of the time. For my friends and acquaintances who have made the leap from one to two, now would be a great time to chime in with survival tips. Or your most highly recommended white wine ;)

~ H

Biting and gardening

Biting and gardening - are the two related? Well, you bite into things you grow in the garden, so yes, I guess they are. But for the purpose of this post, they are related because they are both on my mind. Let's begin with the biting. The Babe has forever been "the biter". I offer this information up freely in conversation, we don't hide it, and it's something we have been working on from the start. I'm pleased to say the phase of her biting her daycare mates as a form of self-defense appears to have come to an end. However, the biting itself has not stopped; it has turned into self-biting when frustrated, which actually has me more worried. My immediate thoughts were "she's self-harming at 2! What can we do to stop this before it turns into cutting?!?" A bit of an extreme to go to, as she is years away from being able to buy anything, let alone razor blades, at a store. But of course, off to Google we went to learn if this is "normal" behaviour. It is, but I wanted a more reliable second source of confirmation.

After a lovely discussion with her daycare provider, I learned some good techniques for her and for myself. This is one of the many reasons I love our daycare - I can go to them with a concern and feel supported, both in being able to ask the question and also with the various information nuggets they give me to take home and use. Some of it is for The Babe, but more of it is for me. As you readers know, patience is not my strong suit, and when my child is physically responding to me, maybe it's a lightbulb to take a minute, a breath, a step out of the room, because it might be me, not her. Ouch. But true. Part of growing as a mom for me is realizing my shortcomings now directly affect the actions of my little person. My husband can choose how to tell me how I am affecting him, she cannot. Reality check for mom.

On to biting into other things - gardening! The monsoon rains have stopped and I'm super stoked to start gardening and to do it with The Babe. It will be an opportunity to let her pick one or two things to plant which we can check on to see how they grow. I've decided to grow herbs in pots on my deck, and I'm hoping I will be less devastated this year if she rips those out of the pot (that happened last year). Again, an opportunity to work on my patience. In the backyard we have a number of large raised garden beds where last year we planted fruit and vegetables. The Babe devoured the strawberries as soon as they were ripe, sometimes not even when they were ripe, and I can't wait to see how this year's crop will turn out. We've already decided what we are planting, in the hopes she will eat all of it.

We learned some valuable lessons last year - water more, eat more lettuce, do not plant round carrots just because they look cool on the package - and this year we will be applying those lessons to the garden. Including planting more cucumbers because The Babe can eat her weight in pickles. I will also be home on maternity leave in July and August, which I realize doesn't mean I will have "more time" but it does mean I will be in the backyard more which means the garden will not be so out of sight out of mind as it was last year.

I've been looking up tips on gardening with a toddler, to see how I can engage her in the process. And then I remembered that engagement doesn't happen on the internet, it happens outside, so I just want to leave work early to go home and plant! I won't, but it was a nice thought.

Now, the real question is, how can I teach The Babe which ones are weeds and how to pull them? ;)

~ H

Pregnant and happy?

Pregnant and happy. Pregnant and happy! All of those punctuation choices are accurate, depending on when you talk to me. We learned in late November that we will be expecting Baby #2 in late July and the emotional roller coaster has been nonstop ever since. Some days I'm happy, telling people at work, thinking back to my first pregnancy, and pulling out my maternity clothes in anticipation of growing bigger. Other days the thought screams out to me, "WHAT WERE WE THINKING?!? OUR FIRST CHILD IS A TASMANIAN DEVIL!" usually as I am attempting to put a planking toddler into a Superstore shopping cart with the promise of juice boxes, apples and basically, the world, just so I can buy much-needed milk and cheese. Most days I'm just tired and extremely nauseous and wanting nothing to do with cooking or cleaning. This pregnancy is much more draining than the last one, or perhaps it is the presence of the aforementioned Tasmanian Devil which is causing me to have absolutely no energy or drive to do anything other than cook pasta or order pizza. I can't feel the baby yet, and I'm barely showing, so I don't really "feel" pregnant. Maybe that's why I'm not shouting it from the rooftops or organizing a photo shoot announcement?

There is also the fact that I know what we're in for this time. I know the sweet smell of baby, how intoxicating it can be, and how it is near impossible to not hold your newborn all the time. I know what insanity a lack of sleep for days on end can bring, and the dread that you feel going to sleep each night wondering, "how long will I get tonight?". I know that I will need water by the gallon, nutritious muffins to keep me going, and the support of my family and friends every step of the way. The only thing I don't know is how to take care of two children. How to keep The Babe from hating Baby Macaroni -we are calling the second baby Baby Macaroni because The Babe wants that to be his/her name. Note, when we ask her where the baby is, she also says "macaroni". (She may be fixated on macaroni.) What I don't know, is how I can stop picking up The Babe in my last months of pregnancy, when it's not physically feasible to do so. And I don't know how I can stop myself from eating all her cheesestrings when all I want is cheese, cheese and more cheese. Seriously.

I hear the same advice I heard when I was pregnant but from different people. "You'll figure it out. She'll be two and a half then, she can be your helper. It's way easier with the second child." What I want from those people is a guarantee. How is it easier? Is it easier because you know now that no matter how early you introduce carrots and broccoli, at some point that kid is going to refuse anything that isn't in a squeezable container? Because now I know now that if I let her cry it out, she may just figure out how to sleep on her own? Because even when she is being a wild animal, I know now she will eventually stop and give me a hug and maybe even share her cheese with me? I've been through labour once, so I know what I can expect, even though this time may be completely different or so I'm told. I've made it through teething with most of my hair intact, so this time I may actually be more prepared (not likely, but it's a nice goal to have). I do have a child who is pretty good at cleaning up, unloading the dishwasher and has begun helping us in the kitchen, so maybe the helper title will stick when the time comes. But I'm also scared. What if I can't handle two kids? What does the future hold for work goals, fitness goals and relationships goals? My husband and I have a hard enough time sorting out ever going out socially now, does this mean we won't have a night out for years to come? Will reading become something I look back fondly on, wishing I had more time for? WHO WILL DO ALL THE LAUNDRY?!?

This I know for sure - everything else aside - the biggest reason I have for choosing to have a second child will always supersede the hesitations I may be feeling from time to time. The Babe will now have someone who will be there for the family camping trips, someone who will embarrass her in front of her friends, and someone who will remember those times she forgets when she's older and will most definitely laugh either with or at her when recalling those stories. This is more important than teething woes, sleep deprivation in the short term (hopefully short term!) and lack of energy for the next 5 months. So when I'm complaining (which I will) or crying (definitely) or feeling as though I cannot do this (frequently), I need to remember the bigger picture. And have another cheesestring.

~ H

Terrible twos

We are in it. As in, stepped off the edge thinking we were in the shallow end but turns out there is no shallow end in this temper tantrum-filled pool of hysterics. The Babe went from eating everything to eating nothing; from diapers to peeing her pants in Starbucks after repeated attempts to go on the potty; from picking out her clothes to kicking the bejeesuz out of me when I try to put pants on her. For the record, I could care less if she wears pants, but it's January and people tend to think you're a crappy parent if you send your child to daycare without pants, in any month for that matter.

Not that she was a wallflower before, but at least The Babe didn't constantly use her body as a weapon of pain up until a month or so ago. What happened? Is it me? Is it her? Is it something in the water? She has begun refusing to get out of the car when we get home, which would be fine with me if she was still in diapers. I could vacuum and she could hang out in the car, everyone's happy. Just kidding? She also has begun to throw her food. Yep, and she started with oatmeal, my personal favourite to wipe off cupboards. I love that she chose a food which turns into cement when it dries. When inflicting damage, my girl goes for the good stuff. She is also refusing to go up or down the stairs unless she is carried. I'm not sure why. She weighs almost 30 lbs, so it's not cute anymore. I have tried just leaving her at the bottom of the stairs with promises of treats if she walks up unaided. Half an hour later I caved because I needed to make and eat dinner, and so the cycle continues.

Why does this happen and what do we do about it? I have read all the articles about pushing boundaries, testing the limits, blah blah blah but I need real situations and solutions. Patience is a virtue I often lack, and I realize my behaviour and reaction in these situations affects the outcome as much if not more, than hers. Do I be firm and realize she may end up sleeping at the bottom of the stairs because she is too stubborn to climb them? Do I only feed her food that can be cleaned up easily, such as Cheerios and raisins? Does using her body as a weapon result in a timeout, which I am not a big fan of for her because she doesn't seem to see it as a form of punishment? GAH! What's more frustrating is the lack of control I feel, the sense that I seem to be making it worse, not better.

I shall continue to read, consult my peers, and maybe accept that I may have a few bumps and bruises before this thing is over. I shall continue to try fun activities with her, even though the markers seem to leave the page and end up on her face and the Playdoh seems to leave the table and end up in the carpet. Maybe we can try cooking together again, as long as she doesn't smack me in the face with the spoon.

~ H

Baby weight race

I am standing in line with my groceries the other day and see the headline about Kim Kardashian's weight loss after baby. Immediately I am enraged. Why is this a "thing"? Why are women being told there is a race to lose the weight we gain while growing a human? In a society that puts a value on a thigh gap and sells the impossible dream of a 15-year-old body forever, how can mothers feel satisfied with our bodies?

Last night I was at a friend's house and we talked about baby weight. Here's what I had to say. Buy a bigger pair of jeans. Because it is exhausting trying to put on your old pair, only to hate yourself for not fitting into them. Buy a new pair and show off that sweet butt you have, thanks to a couple extra pounds of baby weight. You model that butt all over the room!

It's hard, in today's image obsessed society, to not have an issue with some part of your body. But while I may dislike my poochy tummy, I would hate it even more if my daughter thinks the size of her thighs is important. I realize it's hard to quiet the inner dialogue, but I need to at least try. I want my daughter to know that it is important that she is a good friend, compassionate, and brave. I need to recognize the things I am doing right now, whether it's with her or around her, are shaping her perception of the world. I stopped watching the Real Housewives because it's garbage television and it's not behaviour I want my daughter to think is okay. We go grocery shopping together and she picks out the fruit and veggies she wants. Unless it's onions. Then I say no. Because onions are gross. She is getting to pick which one piece of candy she has after dinner because chocolate is not the devil and she walked for an hour for that candy. And we tell her that we love her, because we do and that's what matters most at our house.

All the moms I know are different shapes and sizes, but it doesn't change the fact that they are amazing mothers who love their children. When I read about celebrity moms weighing themselves on 17 different scales, it makes me sad. And mad.

Let's teach our children to love their bodies by modelling that behaviour. Instead of dieting, I want to learn more and cook more nutrious, good food. Let's talk about what we like about our bodies (my freckles and my butt) and ask people, including our kids, what their bodies help them do (run faster, give good hugs). I want my daughter to know how she feels about herself is more important than how she looks. 

I would also like her to tell good jokes, but that's a personal preference ;)