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

Change is not my friend

I've figured it out - change is not my friend. I don't like change; it always throws me and I need time to adjust. Ask people I travel with, ask my family, ask my spouse. And I always forget how much I dislike change until hours, days and weeks later when I ask myself, "what was that about?" and I realize it was me reacting to change. Going from one to two kids is a huge change and I can't say that I'm adjusting quickly or gracefully. I know this because today after a few minutes into a conversation someone said to me, "is going from one kid to two that hard?" which made me realize I am speaking more about the negatives these days than the positives and my facial expressions are a dead giveaway that I am not in my happy place. Never one to sugarcoat anything, I hear the words coming out of my mouth when someone asks how I am and I wince inside. Because I'm not saying I love it, I'm not saying how sweet it is when The Babe asks to kiss Baby Macaroni for the 10th time in the day, and I'm not saying that I love Baby Macaroni and I never want to put her down. Ever. Which is the truth also. Instead I'm saying I'm tired, I'm saying it's tough, I'm saying that The Babe is a one-woman show who is pushing me to my limits most of the day. Because those are the trees in the forest I can't see.

My poor husband leaves home to me sighing, some days wishing he would take me with him to work - hey, I can handle a nail gun like nobody's business! - and other days hoping he'll announce he doesn't have to go to work today. He comes home to me sans shirt (not as sexy when you're wearing nursing bra and haven't brushed your teeth), looking defeated as I negotiate with The Babe to sit in her chair while she eats dinner, rather than run back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. I never say we had a great day when he asks, and before I get a chance to talk to him about one thing I remembered to ask from during the day, the siren song of Babe Macaroni lures me back to the couch for another nursing session. I'm having issues with nursing, different issues this time around, and we're working on it but we are not there yet. What it means is I am tethered to the house, not able to go out for more than an hour or two at a time for the next week or so for the most part.

But it's okay. It's okay because I know there will be a time when nursing happens less, when sleep comes in longer chunks and when this will no longer be a change I am adjusting to, it will just be our life. I am thankful for all that we have: the ability to have children, period, friends I can call who know what I'm going through and invite me over to just hang out and nurse at their place, and this blog where I can write it all down and look back and say, "I got through that." Right now is the time which vanishes from your memory six months down the line. I know I will not remember each day, only snippets, and the parts of the newborn baby phase which I will remember will be the sleepy head on my shoulder, the gassy grins, and the tiny socks. They are so tiny! I just need to accept the fact that when it comes to change, sometimes I need more time than the average to get into my groove and the in-between phase is a little hairy for awhile. Even right now as I write this, The Babe is on hour two of her nap and Baby Macaroni is swinging away in slumber land, after what I would deem a successful trip to the mall to return something and have lunch. We even shared a delicious cookie and managed to not shed a tear during the whole process. So I guess, so far, we've had a great day.

~ H

My toddler loves timeouts

She must because by noon everyday last week and today she has had at least three timeouts. She doesn't listen. Period. Time for lunch? No no, it's dance party time for her. Time for a nap? Actually, she's rather jump on the bed. Eat her snack? Why, when it's much more fun to use the carrots as toys in her Little People house. Did I mention these shenanigans almost always take place when I am nursing Baby Macaroni? Which is pretty much anytime, as this newborn is cluster feeding like no one's business. I feel like I'm losing my mind, dealing with an inattentive, hyperactive, extremely bossy child who cannot sit still unless it's to kiss her sister (yes, despite all this, she is still quite sweet to the baby).

People have offered to come take her to the park or take her swimming, but I need someone to CLEAN OUT HER EARS! Seriously! To make it more interesting, Baby Macaroni isn't liking being put down, at all. While I have no problem with a little crying, it is starting to wear me down when I have to chase The Babe down to (gently) wrestle her into her nap time pull-up while Baby Macaroni is at a Level 3 in the bassinet in our room. Or administer a timeout with a 2-week old latched to my boob. Yep, I did that today. It was that kind of a day. 

What terrifies me even more is that if this is the only two-year-old problems, what are the three-year-old ones like? People keep writing and saying, "you think two-years-old is bad? Wait until 3!" Stop saying that people! It is not helpful! I cannot skip three and go right to four, I checked and it's not an option. I'm now dreading three-years-old almost as much as I dreaded my first labour. If she doesn't listen now, what's next for next year? Toddler tattoos and finding sippy cups of rum stashed in her bee backpack? I'm kidding - who likes rum anymore?

I'm two weeks in, lacking on sleep and eating anything I can get my hands on. The Babe seems to sense this and is playing off it, making me question my own sanity. "Have I really asked her six times to pick up her play food? No. Not possible." We have implemented the Saturday box for toys she loses when she is disobient, except Saturday just came and went, and they toys are still in the box because we forgot and she didn't ask. Too many toys and too much to do - first world problems for sure.

Anyways, nap time is over and I have to wake up The Babe to start the cycle all over again. Yesssssssss

~ H

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