Author Archives: Callie
Playing with girls
This weekend, Noah had a play date with two amazing little girls- M who is 4 years old and D who is almost 19 months old. These two fabulous little girls belong to my best friend from graduate school and Noah has had many, many play dates with these cuties.
Needless to say, their house is FULL of little girl toys- barbies, princess dolls, princess dress-up clothes and shoes, and lots and lots of baby dolls. The morning started out a little slow. Noah is very hesitant in new situations. He likes to stand back and observe his surroundings before he commits to taking any action. He brought a shark toy with him so that he could have a conversation starter and he was wearing his Batman shirt just in case he needed to fall into a secret identity.
M and D started out the same way- hanging close to mommy before deciding whether this shark-wielding Batman was a safe character to play with. After Noah shared all the he knew about sharks, sang his “Bat-Mam” song, and discovered the toy box, there was no stopping him.
He was rooting through that box, pulling out doll after doll, trying on princess shoes, and riding around on a choo-choo train wearing a sun bonnet. The kid loves to play. He has always taken on playing as though it was a very serious job. He carefully calculates which toys to play with and in what order. He is meticulous about how each toy is used and he makes sure that no toy is left un-played with.
Once M and D saw how much fun Noah was having with their toys, they were quick to jump in. M, being older, was very good at sharing and helping Noah figure out the intricacies of all of these unfamiliar toys. After a little while of playing, M disappeared for a couple of minutes and then reappeared back in the den wearing a Rapunzel wedding dress (which, I gotta admit- if I could get away with wearing a princess dress on a Saturday morning, you better believe I would!).
Then, after Noah had explored all of the new toys and fully tested the practical use of all of this “girly” stuff, something changed. It was as though an alarm in his brain went off that said, “You’re a boy! Do boy stuff!”
Suddenly, the shoe box that had been transformed into a doll bed for a baby was now a captain’s hat. The yard stick that was quietly sitting in the corner was now a sword and the plastic knife from the sweet little play-kitchen needed to be stabbed into something. He wanted to run and wrestle and this was a new and “unconquered” world that needed to be, for lack of a better word, destroyed. 
Sensing that a change of scenery might be good for this collision-of-worlds, I suggested that M show Noah the new color she had picked out to paint her room. Well, I didn’t need to say that twice. Before I could blink, Noah had M by the hand and was literally dragging her up the stairs to her bedroom.
I don’t know if there is a class somewhere that I didn’t know about where they teach boys how to convince a girl to go up to her bedroom but Noah enrolled in it way too early and appears to have passed with flying colors.
I’ve got my hands full… and apparently Noah has a thing for blondes.
Something smells like poop…
Yesterday, Matt and I arrived home from work around the same time. I had to run to the grocery store after work to pick up a few things and Matt picked Noah up from school like always. When I got out of the car, Matt says, “Hey, you might want to come and get your son. It’s been an interesting afternoon.”
I don’t think I was quite prepared for what I was about to see. I walked around Matt’s opened truck door and saw Noah wearing frilly, lacy white socks, thick, all black, orthopedic-looking toddler tennis shoes, his hair was wet, and he had on his “back-up” outfit I send every day just in case he has an accident.
Matt begins to tell me what happened.
As he walked in to Noah’s preschool (and Noah’s class is the very last classroom down a very long hallway), he is smacked in the face with a horrible and pungent smell. As he walks down the hall, the smell gets stronger and stronger. He goes into Noah’s classroom and Noah’s teacher says, “Yeah, you smell that?? That’s your son!”
Turns out, while Noah was playing on the playground, he snuck off to a corner and had (pardon the descriptiveness) massive and explosive diarrhea that ran out of his diaper, through his shorts, down his legs, into his shoes, up his shirt, and (after not being discovered immediately by his teachers) rubbed all in his hair.
His teachers threw him into the sink (while trying to stop the other kids from playing in the poopy mess that Noah left behind) and hosed him off. They threw all of his soiled clothing and shoes into a plastic bag and sealed it up tight.
When Noah finally saw Matt, he runs up to him, pulls up his shirt, rubs his belly and yells, “Noah feel all better!!”
When we got home and got Noah inside, we pulled those horrible black shoes off (clearly rejects left behind in a lost and found box at preschool because no parent would ever purposely put their child in these shoes), removed the lacy white socks which were clearly some random girl’s socks, and tossed Noah in the bathtub. I worked on scrubbing all of the “smell” off of him while Matt dealt with the horrible sealed grocery bag of soiled clothing.
While Noah and I are playing with dinosaurs and bubbles, I hear Matt yell up from downstairs, “UGGHH!! There is a turd in here. A whole turd!! And now there is a turd in the garbage disposal!!”
We spent a good chunk of the rest of the night doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen (with a lot of Lysol and bleach) and right before bed, when I asked Noah if he had a good day, he yelled, with the biggest smile on his face, “Noah Poop!”
Yes you did, buddy. Yes you did.
All Boy…
People constantly keep telling me that Noah is “all boy” and there really isn’t a better way to describe his infectious little rough-and-tumble attitude. I never knew that raising such an enthusiastic and undeniably rambunctious boy would teach me so much about how much I didn’t know about boys.
Before becoming a parent, if you had told me that boys and girls are just inherently different, I would have told you that you were lying. I would have gone on and on with what my Women’s Studies professors told me about socialization and gender misconceptions and nature vs. nurture research and data. It would have taken a lot of evidence to convince me otherwise.
Well- Noah is all the evidence I needed.
He completely encompasses everything that you have ever read or heard about little boys. He is so physical and energetic, dirty and slimy, squish bugs and dive head first enthusiastic about the world around him that he can’t even contain the excitement sometimes. The other night, I spent 12 minutes (and yes I was watching the clock) looking at and discussing the enormous spider that builds her web outside on our porch every night. After rushing to stop him from grabbing her (and then probably immediately putting her in his mouth), I had to explain about 4 different ways why we can’t touch her and why we have to leave her web alone and why it is not okay to scream at her or squish her. He was so excited and red faced that he could barely catch his breath to get all of his questions out. And trying to explain all of this to a 2 year old takes quite a bit of patience for someone who really just wants to be far, far away from the spider.
But, spiders aside, Noah has taught me more about everything I didn’t know about boys than I could have imagined. In case you have sweet, gentle, princess-like little girls at home, here are some things you just have to know everything about.
Dinosaurs and Sharks
Oh my goodness! If only I had paid more attention in elementary school when we learned all about the different dinosaurs, I might be a little more prepared. So far, we have had 2 dinosaur themed birthday parties (reminder- Noah is 2). Noah can name 5 different types of dinosaurs. We carry the dinosaur toys around and insist that we take multiple dinosaurs to bed at night. He makes them fight each other and eat his cereal and almost all of his t-shirts have some kind of dinosaur on them.
Then, we bought a membership to the aquarium in our home town and now, all we can talk about is sharks. He runs around the house with his hand on his head like a shark fin. He now wants to wear shark shirts all of the time and occasionally alternates with the dinosaur t-shirts.
Trucks, Cars, and Motorcycles
I don’t know if it is in his DNA but he has been driving his toy cars and trucks around my house since he could sit up by himself. He takes his cars and runs through the house driving them on every surface he can reach. He shouts out from the back seat every time a big tractor trailer truck drives by and, watch out if we pass a motorcycle because the excitement just about explodes from his car seat. He got a battery powered Batman four-wheeler for his birthday and we actually have to keep it hidden most of the time because he cannot do anything else when he knows it is around.
And speaking of Batman…
Batman
Personally, I am a Superman fan. He has just always seemed so much cooler to me but, then again, I am a girl. Boys love Batman. I can’t explain it. It might be the dark mask, the cape, or the Bat-mobile or probably a combination of everything. His first real complete sentence was, “I’m Batman!”
Equipment, Lawnmowers, and Tools
For my nephew’s birthday, the universe intervened and 2 people got him the exact same toy lawnmower. This was the perfect bit of mistake because it meant that both my nephew and Noah could play, tirelessly and all night long, pretending to mow the lawn. I mean, those boys mowed the lawn until their heads were dripping wet with sweat. We also have to slow down every time we pass any kind of construction or big equipment on the road and that boy can already work a drill, a screw driver, and a vice grip. He has also been known to want to take his wrench to bed with him… you know, for those late night projects.
I grew up in a house full of women. My mom, sister, and me were not girly girls or princesses but we certainly didn’t care one bit about tractors or dump trucks. My friends who have girls are often amazed at how physical and courageous Noah is. They talk about how cautious and gentle their little girls are. At Noah’s soccer party last month, my best friend’s oldest daughter spent most of the party dancing like a ballerina in the middle of the soccer field. It was awesome!
Noah has helped me to see that life will never be what I expect it to be and no matter what I think I know, I have so much more to learn. I have had to adapt to boy-stuff, learn to wrestle and jump blindly into adventure, and always keep a well-stocked first aid kit nearby at all times. I always had this idea in my head that I would spend years teaching Noah so much about life… I just never knew he would teach me so much so fast.
Embarrassed, Ashamed, and (a little bit) Defensive
I will be the first one to tell you that I am not perfect, Matt and I are not perfect parents, and Noah is certainly not a perfect child. He’s pretty awesome, but far from perfect. Currently, as all two year olds do, he is testing his boundaries, exploring his world, and learning how to relate to others and communicate by watching and mimicking the other kids and adults in his life.
With that said, Matt and I have had to learn to be super conscious about our behaviors and our words at all times. And, while we have failed many, many times, I think we are doing a pretty good job at modeling good behaviors, using our words to communicate emotions and needs, and practicing lots of appropriate behaviors in hopes that Noah will mimic the good stuff.
[At least I thought we were doing a pretty good job.]
This morning, we were running a little late and, when Noah asked for seconds of his breakfast, we just didn’t have time to make that happen. So, after he was dressed and ready for school, I asked him if he would like a cup of cereal to have in the car. Here is the gist of the conversation that followed.
Me: “Noah, do you want Cheerios in a cup to eat in the car?”
Noah: “No Mrs. Mommy! Teddy Grahams!”
Me: “Okay. Teddy Grahams it is.”
Noah: “TEDDY GRAAAAAAHAMS!!!”
Me: “Okay, okay… here are your Teddy Grahams. Just be sure not to let the doggies get them.”
Noah immediately and (I am assuming) accidentally drops one on the floor. Poplar, our voraciously hungry Black Lab, dives in and gobbles it up without even chewing. And then it happened…
Noah: “Oh Shit!”
Matt: “Did he just say what I think he said?!”
Me: “Yeah I think so. What do we do??”
Matt: “I think we should ignore it and just hope it doesn’t happen again. But I think I have heard him say it before.”
Me: “What!? We’ve been working so hard at not saying that.”
Matt: “Apparently not hard enough.”
[But wait… this amazing morning couldn’t possibly get worse or make me feel more like a terrible parent could it???]
I get to Noah’s classroom, give him a big hug and kiss, and wave good-bye as he runs off to grab a toy and play next to his best friend Abigail.
One of his teachers comes up to me and, in a whisper tone, asks me if she can have a word with me. She informs me that Noah has been saying “shit” quite a bit for the last week or so when he gets frustrated. She said he will even clinch his fat little fists and stomp around in a circle saying, “shit, shit, shit.”
Seriously!? My precious little Noah?? He’s the kid that cusses??
When she tells me this, my emotions go from totally ashamed and embarrassed (How could we have done this to my sweet little baby? We try so hard to model good behavior and look at what is happening!)…
…To shear concern (What do you do when he does this? What advice do you have so that we can appropriately address this behavior without making a big deal out of it?)…
…To angry and defensive (How long has this been going on? Why are you just now telling me about it? I am sure there is some other kid in here who is teaching him this word? Are you calling me a bad parent?).
When I leave daycare, I immediately call Matt to let him know that I was just called out by a 21 year-old about what a bad parent I am. He goes immediately to angry and defensive (skipping emotional levels 1 and 2).
Matt: “Every day, they all tell me about what a great day Noah has had. They go on and on about how well he plays, how well he eats, how much he learns and sings. Now, we are bad parents?!”
Me: “Well, we did hear him say it this morning. We know that he is actually doing it.“
Matt: “I don’t care. That’s not the point.”
We then went on to make a plan about changing the movies and TV shows he is watching and what disciplinary approach we were going to take to address the foul language in the future.
But man, not feeling too great about modeling good behavior right about now.
Also, if you happen to have a child in Noah’s class and he or she begins to mimic Noah and say not-so-nice words, I’m sorry. We’re working on it.
Sanity…
I want to apologize. I have been silent on my blog for the last couple of weeks. Not because crazy parenting things haven’t been happening in my house, but because crazy parenting things can be so emotionally draining that the thought of sitting down at my computer and writing sounded about as wonderful as poking myself in the eye with a stick.
Don’t get me wrong- I love writing. It has always been my solace when life gets crazy. But, as life gets crazier and crazier with a 2 year old, finding time to write (which I used to try and do every day) has gotten to be more and more difficult. I no longer have those 2 to 3 hours at night to think about my day, process my experiences, and enjoy the company of my husband. Now, in those few hours after the baby is in bed and Matt and I can finally “let our guard down,” there is the laundry and the dirty dishes, cleaning and organizing, planning for the next day, and last night, Matt had to go out at 8:30pm and buy pull-ups because daycare sent a note home that Noah needs them to help with potty training at school (seriously- a little more advance notice would be awesome!).
And then the next morning at 5:00am, the alarm goes off and we start again (gym, daycare, work, daycare, 2nd job, bedtime routine, housework, bed…). I never understood the “living for the weekend” mentality… until now.
Usually, it is not that bad (or at least it doesn’t seem like it). I guess we still haven’t fully recovered from our crazy summer. We haven’t been able to have any kind of down-time to collect our sanity. And now, what seems to be adding to the exhaustion is that we have discovered the true meaning of “the terrible twos.”
[Man! Does that kid know how to throw a tantrum!?! I mean, is it built into their genetic coding to throw themselves on the ground and writhe in such a way that it is absolutely impossible to pick them up? Is there a toddler class that I don’t know about that teaches them how to go completely limp as soon as they hear the word no?]
Fortunately, I have an amazing husband who does way more than his fair share of the work around the house. He will be the first to tell you that I cannot clean worth a damn. I don’t pre-rinse the dishes before they go in the dishwasher, I don’t measure the laundry detergent or separate colors from whites, and I only vacuum in the event of an emergency. Oh and I am terrible at cleaning up actual messes (be it dog- or baby-created mess).
In fact, the other night, I opened a container of yogurt for Noah’s supper. Somehow, the container slipped out of my hand and strawberry Greek yogurt went flying. I mean, there was yogurt splattered all over the floor, the kitchen cabinets, Noah’s toys, and me.
What I should have done: Get out the mop and cleaning stuff, gotten down on my hands and knees and cleaned up the spill (which is what Matt would have done).
What I actually did: Called the dogs in, let them lick everything, and yelled to Matt, “Don’t worry! I handled it!”
Needless to say, Matt does all of the cleaning. He even re-cleans everything that I tried to clean the first time. I do all of the cooking and grocery shopping. Pre-baby, I handled all of the financial decisions and banking stuff. Post-baby, we split this task. And we have reimagined our previously very defined and rigid roles within our relationship because, well, we had to. Parenting not only shifts your worldview and the way that you experience your environment, it creates new challenges and opportunities that force you to reimagine everything.
I am not a perfect parent… I am so far from being a perfect anything that the word perfect doesn’t even sound like a real word anymore. In a previous post, I talked about striving for adequacy. And I think Matt and I are succeeding. We just need to be reminded of this bigger goal every now and then.
I need to remember that it is okay to force my child to wear pants to school even though it takes 10 minutes to put them on his chunky little writhing and squirming legs. I need to remember that being late to drop him off sometimes is just a fact of life now. And, even though Matt would disagree, it is okay to let the dogs lick up the mess in the kitchen rather than clean it the proper way.
Oh, and remember to write more. For my sanity!
Choosing Your Battles
Throughout my life, I have consistently heard my mother discuss the importance of choosing your battles wisely. She seemed to always be referring to my selection of clothing (which if I recall correctly, my fashion sense at 6 years old was trendy and fashion forward— side pony tails and stirrup pants were cool, right?).
And, as a parent of a 2 year old, I have lots (and lots) of opportunities to choose my battles on a daily basis. This morning, for instance, Noah refused to eat his breakfast and stood in the kitchen pouting and stomping his feet. Currently, Matt and I are fully engrossed in the “ignore the tantrum” phase of discipline but, when you’re trying to get him ready for preschool and yourself ready for work, there is only so much time you can “ignore the tantrum.”
After about 5 minutes of ignoring the pouting and stomping, I walked calmly in the kitchen, knelt down on my knees, and asked him if he was ready to eat his breakfast. He looked up with tear-filled eyes and said, “Mommy, I need poons.” I tried to hide my giggles as I opened the silverware drawer and watched him gather all 9 of the baby spoons in his tiny, fat fist and run into the living room yelling, “Look Daddy! Poons!”
We then spent about 15 minutes longer than usual watching him eat his french toast sticks with 9 different rubber-tipped spoons. This was not a battle I wanted to fight. And, not fighting this battle (although time consuming and covered in syrup) made for some really cute and really developmentally friendly conversation with a toddler. He was proud of himself for figuring out how to do it. I was proud of him for knowing what he wanted and making it happen. And the dogs were more than happy to clean up the syrupy mess.
This was the battle this morning. The past few weeks, I have chosen not to worry about the fact that sometimes, he wants to wear socks (and often, more than 1 pair at a time) with his sandals to school. If he sees a hat, he has to put it on. Even if it is 90 degrees outside and he finds a winter toboggan in the drawer, it goes on his head for the rest of the day. The child sometimes goes a week without getting his hair washed because he cries to the point of vomiting when a little water gets in his eyes. He insists on wearing at least 2 Batman Band-Aids on his legs at all times and we have to watch Pitch Perfect at least once a day, sometimes more (I think we have probably seen it 42 times- and counting).
But, he eats his vegetables, he uses his words (most of the time) when he wants something, he hugs and snuggles, and he plays and plays until his head gets sweaty. Yes, he refuses to let us brush his teeth for more than like 5 seconds, but he is one happy little boy.
So what if he’s the smelly kid every now and then!?
I am going to save up my battles for when they count. Not sure which battles I’ll choose. We stand firm on a few- holding mommy or daddy’s hand in the parking lot, staying buckled in the cart at the grocery store, you know, safety stuff.
But everything else is just Noah trying to figure out how to be Noah. Yes, tonight I will have to wash 9 spoons, cue up Pitch Perfect on the DVR, and get out 2 new Batman Band-Aids, but, in the long run, who cares. Plus, it is really funny to watch him dance and sing to “Turn the Beat Around”—especially when he’s wearing 3 pairs of socks.
Stressed Out Summer
August is a really tough month for my family. My husband works in student housing and he has a very short time frame to get all of the apartments ready for the incoming students. What that means for me and Noah is that we are on our own for about a month (mid-July to mid-August).
In previous years, this hasn’t been a huge deal. Three years ago, I was a poor grad student so I spent that summer waiting tables at a fancy restaurant. It was a good way to make a little extra money and to stave off boredom. Two years ago, I was big, fat and pregnant for most of this busy period. And then, wouldn’t you know it, I gave birth to Noah during the craziest time of year for Matt. But, while he was able to take a few days off while I was in the hospital and for our first days home, he had to go right back to work. It wasn’t too bad though because I had family at home to help out. Last year during this time, I was still a stay-at-home mom and Noah had just started walking and was still easy to catch. And, while it definitely got lonely at times, being a temporary “single mom” wasn’t so bad.
This year, however, I am going CRAZY!!! Matt has been leaving for work at the time that I get up in the morning. He hasn’t been getting home until well after 6pm (weekends included). And, on the nights that I see clients, I don’t get home until after 8pm. We have had to have family come in to town to help on our overlapping nights. And, as if things weren’t busy enough, Noah’s birthday falls smack dab in the middle of everything.
Party planning, hosting a house full of company, and (I hadn’t mentioned this part yet) because of a summer full of rain storms and wind damage, we had to have a new roof put on our house (while also dealing with all of the previously discussed stress) is not exactly the greatest way to manage my life while Matt is working 12 hour days, 30 days straight.
But being busy and going a little crazy are actually the smallest annoyances to this hectic speed bump in our lives. What really sucks the most is that I desperately miss my husband. While we do get to “physically” see each other for a couple of hours a day, when I do actually get a chance to sit down with him after we put the baby to bed, he is so tired, frustrated, or he has more work to do to get ready for tomorrow. We are both just exhausted. We have been short with each other, snap at the smallest things, and our patience is at an all-time low.
Noah has really noticed the difference as well. I think he is really confused or maybe even angry with his daddy. And, because he is 2, he has no idea how to express his emotions. He spends the whole day talking about how much he misses daddy and asks about where he is but, as soon as Matt gets home, he distances himself from him and won’t leave my side. He turns into this clingy, crying mess (Noah that is, not Matt).
Our entire world has been flipped upside down and these are things I never anticipated. Matt has been working in student housing since 2006. This isn’t new to us. But we have never done this with a toddler. And let me tell you, this sucks! This situation has given me migraines, made me sick to my stomach on more than a few occasions, and I rarely sleep during the night because I am so worried about the next day’s to-do list.
Matt and I are the couple that talks about everything. We rarely fight and if we do, we generally stop somewhere in the middle of the argument and laugh about what we’re fighting about. [Or, Matt just apologizes and we move on.] We communicate. And we usually do a damn good job at it. I’m a counselor. I teach others stress relief techniques and coping strategies to use during times like these. I should be awesome at this!
So, in these final days before the college kids move in and things get back to normal, I am trying to remind myself often that this is only temporary. Remind myself that he will be back to his typical even-keeled self in a matter of days. And remind myself that I need to start coming up with a much better plan for next summer. Either that, or find Matt a new job.
Lessons learned from my “almost” 2 year old
So, Noah is turning 2 tomorrow… and while I am so excited that he is growing up, developing into a really cool person, and hitting some pretty major milestones, I am really struggling with the idea that he’s not a baby anymore. I know, I know. He will always be my baby. And yes, we still call him “the baby” and “baby boy” every day. But the fact is, as of tomorrow, he is a 2 year old. He is running and talking and doing things on his own. We are starting to attempt this whole potty-training thing, he wants to put his pants on himself in the morning, and just this week, he climbed the “made just for big kids” ladder at the playground all by himself- although he was wearing bunny ears at the time.
I did the same thing when he turned one. I spent most of the weeks before his birthday crying and feeling like I hadn’t been paying attention for the first year of his life because it just felt like it had gone by so fast. And, as I hung my head in shame for being so upset about such a happy time, I discovered that other new moms felt the same way. I even struggle sometimes now to remember that tiny 7 pound infant that I brought home from the hospital.
But if motherhood has taught me anything, I now know that each stage, no matter how wonderful or difficult, is worth every sleepless night, every ruined sweater, every tear of joy and exhaustion. And, on top of the lovely lessons of motherhood, Noah has taught me more in the past 2 years than I could have ever imagined. While I try to teach him new things every day, it is his infinite toddler wisdom that amazes me daily. So, instead of being sad about this birthday, I would like to celebrate 3 of the lessons I have learned from him and pass them along so that you can also benefit from his genius.
1. “Take Picture, Mommy!” It took a 2 year old to call me out on the fact that yes, I take way too many pictures of my child. I am guilty of missing some pretty great moments because I was searching for my camera or yelling at my phone because it couldn’t take the picture fast enough. But, man, do I have some awesome pictures of my little man doing some pretty ordinary and oh-so-cute things. (I also have some pretty blurry pictures of him running past me, several pictures of his hand trying to grab the camera, and a few pictures of the floor because he had already moved on to something else.) Being a child of the 80’s, my mom has a basket of pictures of my sister and me as children sitting in her basement, probably never to be seen again. But now, in the age of the digital photo, instagram, and Facebook, I have more pictures than you could look at in a year. But man, am I glad I do. The other day, Noah picked up a piece of wood at the park and pretended it was a camera. He kept taking “pictures” and saying “Take picture, Mommy!” It was that moment that I discovered how thankful I am that I have those memories to look at again and again, to share with family, and that he can enjoy one day. No basement basket of baby pictures for him!
2. Your own doggies are never as interesting as other people’s doggies! Matt and I are dog people. We have 2 big rescue dogs that have been our 4-legged children for 9 years. And yes, while they do push our buttons far more than Noah ever has, we love them. However, we realized not too long ago that we really don’t think Noah thinks of them as dogs. He LOVES animals. And I mean LOVES animals. All kids have something that is their thing- Noah’s thing is animals… especially dogs. But our dogs, Kenan and Poplar, who love him and would do anything to protect him, he could care less. He gets aggravated and angry at them. He yells “No!” and “Hush!” when they try to play with him. It’s crazy. But, you show him another dog or he sees one at the park, and you can’t hold him back he is running so fast to run and play and pet that stranger-doggie. I started thinking about this with a bigger-picture mentality and I realized that we all do the same thing. Everyone else’s “stuff” looks so much better and more exciting than our own. I envy my friends’ clothing or houses; I imagine their lifestyles so much more glamorous and exciting than mine; and I think about how much more fun they are having after they put their kids to bed. Noah is a lot smarter much earlier to have already figured out that the grass is always greener. But behind our front door, when Noah is snuggled up on the couch to read a book, sometimes he invites Poplar to curl up beside him. And sometimes he so desperately wants to help Daddy feed Kenan and add water to their water bowl. So, while the grass is a little greener on the other side, we need to try and remember that it’s pretty great on this side too.
3. If you get too hot, find a shady spot and sit down for a minute. Noah is a sweaty, sweaty boy. If there is one thing that I can say about my son, he plays hard. He takes on playing like it’s a serious job. He works with his toys, he never walks- only runs, and if you’re in his way, look out. Whether he is inside or outside, he plays so hard that his head sweats, his feet smell, and his little face turns bright red. But, if you sit back and watch him, when his face gets too red and his head gets too sweaty, he will find a small toy, take it to a shady spot outside or climb up on the couch inside, and play quietly until he cools down. Then, he gets back to business. It is these moments that have taught me the most. When I get all riled up and angry, I rarely think to find a quiet spot and calm down before I get back to business. Noah figured out at 2 years old that you cannot “work” as effectively if you’re too hot and your face is too red.
These 3 lessons (and, trust me, there are many, many more) have helped me to be a lot happier about this birthday. These lessons have also helped me to enjoy the fact that my little baby is such a cool little guy. He is funny and smart. He gets so excited about the tiniest things. He loves dinosaurs and doggies and he approaches every situation with big wide eyes. He soaks up life with a voracious appetite and every time he yells “Oh my goodness!” when he sees something new, my heart melts.
Happy Birthday, Noah. You make my life better, my heart bigger, and my soul full.
Time flies…
Wow… today is the last day of July. In this crazy busy life that I have, with all of the responsibilities (both good and bad) I cannot believe that today is the last day of July. Fall is around the corner and then its Christmas and then hello 2014.
I think the reason today’s date took me by surprise is that I just never could have imagined how fast time goes by. This has been a pretty insane year for me and my family. When 2013 started, I was a stay-at-home mom (I did see clients in the evenings but only a couple nights a week). Noah was active but not near the acrobatic, overly-ambitious daredevil that he is now. I was able to keep the house relatively clean, cook dinner most nights, and spend time with friends and family on a pretty regular basis.
And, the best part of my “previous life,” I got to spend all day with my little man. We played outside, we went on adventures, we went to Little Gym twice a week, and I took him with me on all of my errands. We were a pretty awesome team. Now that I am working full time and still seeing clients at night, I miss these moments desperately.
If you had asked me 5 years ago if I would have loved being at home 24/7 with my kids, I would have laughed in your face. I was a go-getter! I was the person that worked way too many hours, took work home with me on a nightly basis, and answered work emails and phone calls all weekend long.
Then I became a mother. Well—actually, I became a counselor first. Transitioning from my previous job to graduate student transformed me and my outlook on life. While learning to be a counselor, I learned so much more about myself and how to be a better person (which made me a better wife and mother) than I ever could have anticipated.
I learned how to set boundaries with my clients- and within my personal life. I learned how to evaluate and process the experience rather than the outcome- with clients and with myself. And I learned how to help my clients set realistic goals and make healthy changes- which forced me to practice what I preach.
Then, in my final semester of graduate school, I became a mother. Everything changed again.
And it continues to change- with every new word that wonderful baby says, every new boo-boo that needs to be kissed, and every bug that I have to rush to get out of his hands before he puts it into his mouth, my outlook on life is continually changing. I hate that I miss those moments all day long that are shaping who my son will become. Yes, I get it. I set the foundation and I am there at nights and on the weekends, blah, blah, blah. Dammit- I miss the boring every day moments that are so precious and so mundane and so hilarious. I want to smack his teachers in the face when they tell me about all of the adorable and sweet moments they got to witness while I was at work.
When I picked him up yesterday, Noah started talking about something with such enthusiasm and intensity that his little face started turning red. Of course, I could only understand bits and pieces because toddlers throw a lot of unnecessary sounds and babbles in there. I had to look to his teacher to figure out the rest of it. In that moment, I realized how much I am missing and how much I miss him. I need to do a much better job at soaking him in when I have him.
So, my realistic, attainable, and measurable goal for this last day of July is to take time each day (even if it is only 5 minutes) doing the things that I miss with my baby boy. Just me and him…
And I am going to resist the urge to smack anyone in the face.
Simply Adequate…
When I was pregnant, Matt and I constantly told ourselves and anyone else who would ask that our goal was simply to be adequate parents. We didn’t need to be perfect parents. We weren’t trying to win any competitions. And we knew there was a pretty huge learning curve to this whole new adventure so we tried to remain realistic.
When we would tell people that this was our goal, they would giggle and smile and then we would move on to something else, but it was never a joke to Matt and me. Yes, we would do everything we could to become educated about the drastic changes that were coming. Yes, we would keep him safe and fed. And, yes, we understood that there would be tons of pressure on us about raising the “right” kind of kid.
What I didn’t expect and that I wasn’t prepared for was the amount of pressure that the rest of the world (and especially other mothers) puts on new moms. I remember the day it hit me. I was in Target when Noah was about 6 months old. He was finely sturdy enough to sit in the front of the shopping cart (thank goodness because I hate, loathe, and despise those damn bucket car seats that, somehow, only weigh 3 pounds when the baby isn’t in them but, put a 12 pound baby in it and, suddenly, the stupid thing weighs 60 pounds. It doesn’t make sense!)
It was winter and pretty cold outside. Noah hated wearing socks and as soon as the opportunity arose, he took his socks off and put them in his mouth. We were inside Target, he was happily playing and looking around, and this woman who appeared to be about 40ish came up to me, touched Noah’s feet (not even going to mention how much this bothered me) and, in a high-pitched baby voice said, “Apparently your mommy doesn’t care if your feet are freezing.”
I stood there, mouth open, trying to get past the shock and anger that was raging inside me. A million things were running through my head- including some really not-so-nice words that I shouldn’t say out loud in Target- but I just made some kind of stupid incoherent comment like, “Yeah, he just doesn’t like to wear socks.” And then, before I could get my brain working enough to say something about the pressures on moms and the judgment from others, she was gone. And I was left there to be angry about it and think over and over about all of things I should have said.
The sad thing is, this is not the only time something like this happened. As a stay-at-home mom during the first part of Noah’s life, he went with me everywhere. I dealt with all kinds of comments and stares from all kinds of people about everything- good and bad. I got used to it and, eventually I developed a pretty standard response that was just rude enough to get my point across.
So, back to my original point, there is too much pressure out there on new moms and dads and there is too much comfort in placing judgment with no regards to circumstance or personal choice. With that said, rather than railing on the ignorant people out there who continue to say hurtful and unnecessary comments to unsuspecting and tired new moms in Target, I would like to give a little advice and support to the moms out there (both new and seasoned) to help make dealing with the pressures a little easier.
1. Do what works. Every baby is different. The baby books are going to tell you one thing. Your mother-in-law is going to tell you something different. Figure out what works for your baby and do that. When we brought Noah home, the only place he would sleep was either on someone’s shoulder or in his bouncy seat. The shoulder was not the greatest option so we set up a card table next to the bed, stuck him in the bouncy seat, and he slept on that until he was 4 months old. Yes, people made fun of us for putting our baby on a card table but, it worked.
2. If your baby is happy and safe, then you are doing a good job. You are going to feel like a terrible parent more than a few times as your baby grows up. The first time you turn your back and he falls and skins his knee, you are going to blame yourself and, unfortunately, others will too. Remember, kids fall down. Kids get hurt. Parents make mistakes. Comfort your child, kiss his skinned knee, and know that you are the best parent he could ever ask for.
3. Trust yourself. You are the expert on your baby. There is a reason there is such a thing called “Mother’s Intuition.” Whether you feel like you know what you are doing or not, you know what is best for your baby and no one knows your kid better than you do. Women are the worst at questioning their own decisions. I am giving you permission to be confident about your choices.
4. Ask for help. Bringing home a baby is tough. Raising a toddler is pretty darn difficult too. And I still don’t know how parents with more than one kid figure it out. Find a good baby-sitter. Let grandparents help as much as they offer. And if they don’t offer, ask them to help! Your kids will benefit from having a mother who is better rested and who has a little extra time to herself. It will make your time with the baby even more special and rewarding for both of you.
5. Practice positive self-talk. Write it down if you have to. You are the best mother that you know how to be. And that is all anyone, especially your baby, can ask for. And remember, if you start positive self-talk now and do it regularly, your child will learn it too. Starting self-esteem building now can only mean great things for both of you in the future.
Yes, society puts a lot of pressure on us but we put even more on ourselves. There is no research that shows that perfect parents have perfect kids. Do your best, set attainable goals, and strive for adequacy.
Brutally Honest Mom 