My Little Caveman

I came to an interesting realization when B and I were battling last night. I was approaching him as I would approach an adult. I wasn’t really reasoning with him, per say, but I was expecting him to use logic that he clearly doesn’t possess. He’s nearly two and a boy (double whammy) and trying to get him to understand why he has to clean something up just wasn’t working.

I have to admit, B and I have really been at it lately. He gets frustrated when I don’t understand him or I won’t give him something that he wants. He responds to these situations by striking an inanimate object and making this horrible “aaannnhhh” noise at you. I have broken him of hitting people, but still he hits. He KNOWS that it aggravates me and will look directly at me while he does it. He has moments where he seems to be mad for no reason, just randomly striking out at things in frustration.

Anyway, last night, we were really going at it, it was bath time and B wasn’t ready to stop playing with this gear game he has. Here I was, directing him to do something, expecting him to understand that time was up, and he just wasn’t. He started throwing his toys on the floor and hitting the table. It was that moment I remembered a book I had read Happiest Toddler on the Block. In it, the author describes toddlers as cavemen (and women) that we as parents are supposed to civilize. B is a caveman. He language skills aren’t great, he is impulse and pleasure driven, and seems to have no higher level reasoning.

So, instead of battling and expecting him to make the decision for himself to behave, I simply picked him up and stated firmly that we were going to the bath and weren’t playing anymore. Sure, this lead to much crying and gnashing of teeth, but I wasn’t as frustrated and, in the end, the experience was much more pleasant all around.

Now, I’m no expert and certainly not parent of the century, but I sometimes think that parents (I am sure I do this) think too much of our children’s ability to reason and make decisions for themselves at such a young age. There have been countless times where I have seen parents trying unsuccessfully to reason with their cavemen. No more for this mommy, well at least not until he is older.

Back to Work!

6 weeks have gone by far too quickly and I find myself back at work. I have made it through 3 days so far and it hasn’t been horrible, but it hasn’t been great either. Thankfully, we have some big events upcoming (J coming home!!!!) that have made the transition a little easier for me. Having something to look forward to makes the pain of working a little bit less.

The biggest challenge I have had so far is settling back into my routines, both at home and at work. The morning is going fairly smoothly so far. Wake up, nurse, shower, feed B, leave. I have it timed out pretty well and can reasonably be out of the house within an hour, however, any hiccup could seriously derail me. Once I get home, it’s nurse again, then playtime, dinner, baths and bedtime. This 2 to 3 hour period is generally pure chaos. Last night, I intercepted B coloring on the walls with crayon, all I can say is thank God for washable paint! Someone is generally crying or angry at any moment, but we are getting better. I have successfully gotten both boys to bed by 7(ish) clean and fed, which is really all one can hope for. Then, I get all the chores done for the day and take a few short moments to watch TV or read before I fall asleep (if I make it to 9:30, it’s a win!).

At work, I am settling back into all the mess of a million emails and trying to catch up on all that has changed. We have some big events coming up that have kept me very busy to make sure I’m not the dodo. I have hit the gym 2 out of 3 days so far with the plan to get back there on Thursday and Friday. One bonus of J’s return is the supreme motivation to not look busted on the pier, so I have been highly focused on weight loss. I am hoping to be more or less caught up by the end of the week.

One of the most significant changes at work has been pumping. I drag in my pump every day and have had great success so far. I do three pumps a day, which matches up to T’s eating schedule at home. I don’t feel like my supply has lessened at all and it’s actually nice to not have someone hanging on me every 3 hours. I have to admit, it hasn’t been the horrible experience that I was expecting.

So, 3 days in, we are surviving. Only 33 days to go until Dad comes home to change all the diapers, clean up all the messes and give Mom a break!

Back to Working Mom

The last few weeks have been a blur and now I find myself one week away from returning to work full time. It seems that 6 weeks has flown by and I simply am not ready. I mean, technically, I am ready. I have a freezer stocked with pumped milk, T will willing take bottles, the nanny has been here getting settled into her own schedule with the boys. But, I’m not ready to leave them yet. With B, I was at home for nearly 6 months (I was in school, never gone for more than a few hours at a time) before I had to go back to real work. This time, 6 weeks! This is compounded by the fact that I got my next assignment last week and it’s going to be tough and it’s back at sea. Like, mega tough, if I make it home while in port, that’s a win for the day.

At the same time, I am kind of ready to go back to work. I miss being intellectually challenged beyond block building and car racing. I miss not having to hear constant crying from multiple children. Most of all, I want a break from changing diapers. I enjoy my work for the break that it gives me, I know that I am a better parent not staying home.

But, it isn’t a good feeling to place your 6 week old in someone else’s arms and walk away from them. Last time, I felt more ready. B was stronger and more established. I didn’t check his breathing constantly while sleeping, I didn’t worry about how much food he was getting because he was already so solid. To me, T just doesn’t seem sturdy enough yet for me to head out. But, go back to work, I must. I’ll just have to enjoy these last few days at home all the more.

Time's Flying by TOO Fast

How can it be that I am already packing up newborn clothes? It just doesn’t seem possible that my little premature wonder is already outgrowing things. After the struggle to gain weight that we went through in the first weeks, it’s shocking to me how big my little boy is getting. He’s just like his brother, takes a little while to get going and then, boom, big time weight gain.

I have to admit, I got a little teary packing things away today (darn hormones). It’s just a reminder that those special first days are only memories now. Pretty soon, T will be crawling, running, wrestling, and generally driving me nuts like his brother. It’s very sad to me in a lot of ways. I have to admit, that so far, little newborns are my very favorite. Don’t get me wrong, I love my toddler, but, to me, there is no better feeling in the world than when a teeny tiny little baby snuggles up against you. I love it. I love how he smells, I love the little noises he makes, I love all of it. I don’t even mind the late night feedings and the crying. Now, I admit, I have had two easy babies, no colic, no fussiness, generally go with flow kind of kids.

I am also struggling with the fact that my husband, his dad, has missed an entire clothing phase of his life and all that goes with it. He hasn’t gotten to smell his little head while holding him. He hasn’t gotten to snuggle up with him in bed. He hasn’t even had to change any diapers! I have no idea how J is holding up, I can’t imagine how painful it must be to have to know what you are missing. 49 more days!

But nonetheless, the feelings of longing for those little babies moments are already returning, even though I still have a little baby! I guess it’s just another sign that this won’t be our last baby, I hope.

I got that Itis...

Mastitis, that is. I am through it now (still taking antibiotics though) and, let me tell you, that was brutal! Probably the sickest I have been in a long, long time. I basically have two lost days where I was down with a mega fever, chills, and pain. Terrible, wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

It was rough not only from the being sick aspect, but I still had to care for my two little boys. Thankfully, I had help in town who was more or less able to run the house and take care of B, but I still had to nurse every couple of hours which really took it out of me. I made it through, and I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t get that again.

I have to admit, I am not loving nursing the second time. I really didn’t love it the first time, but I slogged through 8 months because I know it’s the best thing for baby. This time, ugh, I like it even less. Sitting down every 2 or 3 hours just really isn’t in my time line. And T is a terrible, terrible nurser on one side (hence, mastitis), so I really have to focus on getting him to do a good job, making it even less enjoyable.

In some ways, I feel bad for feeling this way about nursing. There are so many people who tell you that they love it. They love communing with their child and could spend hours just staring at their baby. I cannot. I feel antsy the minute I sit down. I often read or search on my phone while I nurse. I know that I should be appreciative of the time that I have with him and my ability to nurse, but I just can’t sometimes.

Anywho, we are surviving. Our visitors are all gone (for now) and we have a couple of days on our own to try and get the routine settled out (what routine? It’s really a free for all). And, we are getting so, so close to homecoming, only 57 days!

Survival of the Fittest (this week has proven I am not)

This week has been all about survival. The transition from one to two children has definitely been fraught with challenges. I spend a great deal of my day in a zombie like haze moving from one diaper change to the next, one feeding frenzy to another, and generally, one unmitigated disaster to another. I can totally understand the saying that you aren’t “really” a parent until you have more than one kid.

Here are just a couple of the situations that I have found myself in since coming home from the hospital. Example one, both kids are crying because they want to eat, who has top priority? Sure the baby can scream louder, but B can cause more damage if left hungry. Current solution, feed B and nurse while sitting at the table with him. Example two, both boys wake up with poopy diapers at exactly the same time, baby has a blow out, B has on occasion gone inside his diaper, who do change first? Current solution, change baby while watching B like a hawk. Example three, B NEEDS to held while baby is nursing. Current solution, hold both, one nursing on one side, the other one hearing stories on the other side.

The concerning thing is that I have help right now, in a couple of weeks, I won’t, it will just be me. I know things will get easier. T is a good sleeper and is only up at night to eat so as he gets a little bigger, I’ll get more rest. And really, that makes all the difference in the world. B’s patience is getting better, still not good, but better. Also, I’ll just get the hang of this. Every day I feel a little more comfortable being the mommy of two boys, so I know that soon, I might just be confident. And, it’s only 66 days until J comes home, so the best help will arrive then!

The Big Arrival

Well, we did it, J and I are now the happy owners of two little boys. In something of a whirlwind (I went in for an amnio, got told I was having a baby instead), we went from the controlled chaos of a single toddler to the sheer pandemonium of a toddler and an infant. Now, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, both of my boys have been better behaved than I expected, but there is certainly an added element of stress to everything that goes on in the house.

I won’t go into the gory details of the birth story, I was induced, it sucked, but I will talk a little bit about the minutes after. J had been calling throughout the day since he had received the “hey, having a baby” email in the morning. He was super supportive every time he called and really wanted to be as involved in the process as possible. At my lowest moments, he told me all the right things to make me feel better and help me through the labor. He called shortly before I began pushing and encouraged me and promised to call back soon to help me through the last bit. Well, due to a very short time of pre-pushing (they told me at least 30 minutes until he would be low enough, it was more like 5) and only 5 pushes, J wasn’t on the phone when the baby was actually born. He called about 20 minutes later. I was elated that he was only the phone congratulating me and speaking to his newborn son, but, at the same time, I couldn’t help but cry for all the things that he had already missed and would continue to miss for the next 80 odd days.

I felt very sorry for him in that moment. You could hear the strain in his voice as he told his son how sorry he was that he couldn’t be there and how much he loved him. I know that he has shed many tears thinking about how his boys don’t really know him and how he fears they will be afraid of him when he returns. I know how hard he works to stay connected to his family and how it doesn’t always feel like it works.

I wish there was some way I could bottle up these next few months and save all of the wonderful newness about being a parent again so that he could experience it too, but, alas, no such magic exists and pictures and videos can only get you so far. I know that my husband is doing important work and that he is doing the right thing, but I still can’t help but wish he was home to see and hold his new little boy.