Blame the Messenger

This morning at 5:25 LP appeared at my bedside, "Mommy, I had a dream that a car flipped over and someone got smooshed."

And then she started climbing into the bed.

"Uh-un, LP," I said, climbing out of the bed, "Let's go."

I stood at the side of the bed while she snuggled into the warm spot I had recently vacated.

"No."

I was in disbelief. Did she really just say 'no'?!

And then I realized I was tired. And didn't feel like escalating this into raised voices or tears.

So I shrugged and climbed back into bed.

Then the Hoos gave it a shot.

He got up and stood by the side of the bed, telling her he would stay in her room with her for a while, but she had to get up.

"No."

Eventually he gave up and climbed back into bed.

Later on the Hoos gave me a hard time, "Why did you tell her it was okay to get in our bed?"

If you note, I never told her it was okay. But, whatever.

For the record, AK slept through the night in her big girl bed. And when I woke her up, she looked at me, smiled, and said, "Mommy, lay with me." And I did. And I loved it.

Opportunity Costs

The days are getting longer, the weather is getting warmer and together these things mean just one thing - playground time!

After picking the girls up from school I like to take them to the adjacent playground to expend some energy and enjoy the fresh air. It doesn't hurt that it also gives me an opportunity to socialize with some of the other parents. Alas, a lot of our conversation revolves around trying to develop the perfect exit strategy, e.g., leaving at the same time to try to make getting in to the car a game, bribery, counting down (GH's iPhone timer is cool, but it wasn't exactly as effective as we all had hoped)

Also, I have to frequently remind my girls that "the playground is for playing, not for standing on the side and eating." LP and AK are world class moochers (wonder where they get that from?) and if they see another parent with snacks they will immediately sidle over and wait with their hands extended for the parent to offer. And, even once their friends STOP eating, LP will continue to loudly insist "I'm HUUUUUUUUUUUUNGRY!" as if the world is ending and she is starving. When I offer her the option of going home to have dinner she stops - but only long enough to catch her breath. I am so lucky.

When the mass exodus does finally arrive around 6, all of the parents seem to be simultaneously shaking their heads, contemplating if the half hour of fun is worth the pain and tears when we attempt to leave.

I Can Handle This

When I picked the girls up last night, LP specifically said to me, "I had a good day today."

Excellent. Who doesn't love to hear that?

Upon further contemplation, I am not sure I like to hear that. Because it seems that having a good day up until 5, makes a kid feel like they get waaaay more leeway after 5.

So we start the downhill roll.

I ended up carrying/dragging a coatless LP out to the car (with little mini-me clinging to my coat). The reasons were typical, she wanted water, she couldn't have water, she wasn't listening, she was pulling her friends into not listening...

As I struggled to get LP into her carseat, AK sang "Baa Baa BlackSheep" quietly to herself from her perch. She kept at it as LP called, "MAAAAMAAA! I want my MAAAMAAA!" I reminded her that, unfortunately, I was her MAAAMAAA and she was stuck with me. "DAAADDDYYY! I want my DADDDYYYY!"

I gently dialed his number into my cell, handed her the phone and told her to push the green button if she wanted to call him. And she did. And he did a masterful job at calming her down. Until he had to hang up.

About two minutes after we got into the house, LP was a changed child again. A little angel, floating around, asking AK, "Do you want to play with big sister? Yeah? Want to do a puzzle with big sister? Can you give big sister a hug?"

I live with three Geminis. Will the rest of my life be like this?

Unrelated, at 4am AK called out. When I went in to her room she was lying down with all of her blankets pushed off. As I covered her she exclaimed loudly and with absolutely no trace of tiredness, "Hi Mommy!" She didn't even really look at me, not even raising her head. After I left she went right back to sleep (or at least didn't make another peep). Weird.

Out of Control

I wish I could say that I could control my children, but I can't. I can:

• attempt to diffuse a situation;
• redirect their attention;
• reason with them
• threaten them;
• make them cry;
• carry them, drag them, restrain them or in some other physical manner force them to do/not do something;
• teach them positive behavior;
• and beg, cry, or yell.

And yet, only occasionally can get I them to comply.

Both of my girls are fiercely independent. They are their own people. They react to things in their own way. Not necessarily the way I taught them or the way the Hoos or I would.

They are growing up, but still babies. They have no filter. They say things that mortify me. They do things that mortify me. They don't know better.

There are physical and emotional benefits to being a child. Things don't hurt as much. A hard crack to my nose with the back of their head? Hurts me. A lot. They don't even notice. A hurtful comment from a friend? Sad for about three seconds until something else comes along. LP relayed a story to me yesterday that made me sad for her. She didn't even realize she could or should be sad.

I can't control them. But I can love them.

You Can't Party All the Time

Tuesday night was my department dinner for work. That left the Hoos in charge of picking up, feeding, entertaining, bathing, and getting the girls to bed. He called me as he drove to pick them up (I was still at the office) and as I went to hang up after our brief conversation he called out, "AMY!!! WAIT!!! What do I give them for dinner?!" Mommies RULE!

The dinner was fine. I wouldn't recommend the restaurant (Frankie and Johnny's Steakhouse in Rye, NY) but the company was good and it was nice to interact with folks I don't normally see too much of. There were a few odd moments - e.g., the VP of our group referencing mud wrestling in regards to two of my cute, young, female co-workers, another co-worker fawning over my dad and telling me that is was okay if LP and AK didn't visit the office as long as my dad did (EWWWWW!!!).

When I got home a little after 9, the Hoos was still upstairs putting the finishing touches on bed time. He wasn't happy about it. Apparently it had been a rough night of multiple meal choices and general debauchery. Pretty much a normal night in my book. Fortunately, the girls slept well; unfortunately, my waiter hadn't understood the difference between regular and decaf I was up and wired all night.

Last night was the Hoos' department dinner. I was a bit worried since I was already exhausted and the girls had given the Hoos such a tough time the night before. I shouldn't have worried. By 8:30 they were both nestled in bed and I was back on the couch with my late dinner.

Around 9:30 I packed myself up and headed upstairs to watch TV in bed. The Hoos arrived home shortly thereafter but I was determined to get some sleep. Too bad I ended up laying awake until after 2. I have an annoying cold (the kind where snot forgets to stop in my sinuses or where ever for some extra mucus to make it viscous and instead just drips out of my nose like water from a leaky faucet) and apparently some sort of mental block against sleep. AWESOME.

Right now I am treating myself to my first white hot chocolate of the season. Full of fat but oh so yummy. I deserve it. Then again, I also deserve SOME SLEEP (hint, hint body).

Experiential Parenting

If asked I would say that my approach to parenting is "experiential." That is, I make decisions based on what I observe, along with some intuition and instinct.

If my girls are jumping on the bed and being nutso and you ask me if they are sick, I would respond, no. That is not to say that I would not feel their keppies (Yiddish for head) to check. (Good thing I did on Sunday, too, AK ended up having a fever.)

Going further, if my kids are sleeping peacefully and I think they might have a fever, I wouldn't wake them to confirm. I think the fact that they are sleeping is a better sign than a thermometer's reading.

Yesterday the girls did have runny noses, but they also had a great time. As LP said, "This is special that I am staying home with you because I am sick mommy." I checked each of their temperatures once during the day, just for the record, and they were both in the low 99s. The fact that they ate and bounced and drank, all led to conclude that they were a-okay.

Today they are both back at day care. They are less experiential than I am, more science based. I am hoping not to get a phone call request for pick up, but I am not counting it out.

The Parent's Dilemma

As a mother, I want to protect my daughters. Always. And from everything.

From getting swine flu. From getting bitten by another child in day care. From getting their hearts broken. From mean girls. From devastating blows to their self-confidence and image of self.

As much as I know intellectually that I am not Superwoman, and that even Superwoman can't fend off hormones and teenage angst (not to mention little kids bearing their fangs), I want to be a human shield.

Instead of Superwoman, I know that my best bet will be to arm the girls with the tools and resources, and self confidence, to defend themselves. To make smart choices.

I try to think before I say or act. To put myself in their shoes. To consider how my words and actions will be received and processed by their little minds.

But I am not perfect. I, too, am human. I have a prolific vocabulary of curse words. An all-too-finite amount of patience, hopefully balanced by an infinite amount of love.

I didn't intend to write a melancholy post. I am in a good mood today. But every once in a while I consider the weight of the responsibility I have been given. I am so, so lucky to have my beautiful, healthy children. I refuse to waste this opportunity.

Taking Turns

Over the course of time, the Hoos and I have divided nighttime parenting duties by child. I handle AK and he gets LP.

The division was originally made because I was nursing and it didn't make sense for him to get up in the middle of the night if AK was hungry. Since I stopped nursing in April we have just stayed the course - it doesn't help that AK is a mama's girl; although, occasionally, it does. Because if the Hoos goes in to her room to comfort her, he can get away with rubbing her back. If I go in,she stands up and insists on some full-on cuddle-comforting.

It has worked out pretty well, actually. AK is really good about going to sleep. You give her a bottle and lay her down and she sticks her tush in the air and hunkers down for the night. LP requires quite a bit more effort. She draws out the nighttime routine - insisting on watching some Tinkerbell, peeing, pretending to poop, brushing her teeth, flossing, requiring a song (or ten), complaining that one thing or another hurts, until finally falling asleep way closer to OUR bedtime than we would prefer.

Recently however, we have both been getting the short end of the stick. Every other night it seems someone else is waking up. LP is having bad dreams involving farm animals or seagulls. AK is teething and booger nosed.

The other night LP sneaked into our room and I didn't even notice until she was in my face complaining about a pig chasing her. Fortunately she went back down easily once the Hoos walked her back to bed. Well, at least by the second time.

AK was up at 5:30 this morning, crying. I tried to just give her the pacifier, but that only worked for about as long as it took me to walk back to bed. I then held her for five minutes before returning her to the crib, and rubbing her back.

Looking back we had about three months of nights with uninterrupted sleep. I just hope that isn't it until the girls move out.

Outstanding Questions

In the last few days I have been asked some parenting questions. Not the "Dear Abby" kind, because lord knows I am no advice columnist, but on a more personal level.

The other day a colleague with two daughters similar in age to LP and AK asked me, "Honestly, isn't it so much harder than you thought it would be?"

Not really. But mostly because I didn't put any expectations on the job. I just wanted to be an awesome wife and mother. When my kids are trying or difficult or thriving and fabulous I remind myself, "This is what I signed up for." Being a mom means taking the good with the bad. It means glowing in a brilliant move made by your progeny and shielding them from the flames of others (and focusing your own on them) when they do something unacceptable.

When I am not complaining about my daughters, and even when I am, I love them. I always wanted to have children and be a mom and I often feel like the luckiest person on the planet (okay, maybe not on Monday). Which leads me to the second question:

Are you going to go for three?

I have been blessed with two happy, healthy little girls. Munchkins that are now getting really good at playing together and entertaining one another. I can see the end in sight for diapers. With each classroom promotion at day care, I see my bills decrease. Our family fits perfectly into my CRV and there is even room for me in between the car seats if need be (the same can't be said for the Hoos' Accord unfortunately). Sure we are outgrowing our house, but everyone has their own bedroom.

I am also worried about pushing our luck. AK was born with a knot in her umbilical cord. In the delivery room, when we asked the doctors what that could mean, they said, "Nothing. Now. It is good luck." Only recently did I learn just how lucky we were.

I am not closing the door on having another child. But it is a complicated decision that we are not yet ready to answer.

And, to respond to a final question, NO! we do not feel like we "need to try for a boy."

Passing the Buck

This morning in his rush to get the girls out of the house, the Hoos forgot to change LP out of her pajama shirt. He didn't notice until they walked into the day care. When he started to laugh, LP looked at him quizzically and asked why he was laughing. He tried to downplay it so she wouldn't notice, but, as you may have guessed, LP is a pretty smart kid*. She looked down and figured out the joke.

"No worries," the Hoos told her, "I am sure you have an extra shirt in your bin." Except apparently she didn't.

When he called to recount the story to me, the Hoos added, "So, you should probably check that out. There aren't any shorts either, just long pants and a shirt that looks like it would fit AK." He is right, there aren't many clothes in the bin. A few weeks ago when LP got some water on her shorts she insisted on changing. She ended up wearing size 18 month pants. They were more like hot pants.

HOWEVER, I interrupted him. "Okay, so take note of that and bring more clothes next week." He started sputtering, "But that is why I am telling you. Because really only one of us should be responsible for that, you know so we don't get confused."

"Excellent!" I responded, "We have talked it out and we are straight, you will take care of LP's bin. I don't have to be in charge of everything."

Wanna bet who ends up sending in new clothes next week.

*Case in point: Last night, post-tantrum, LP and AK and I were watching Animal Planet. There was a big cat on the screen and I asked LP if it was a leopard or a cheetah (as the Hoos will tell you I can't keep any of the big cats beyond a tiger and a lion straight). She told me that it was a cheetah and two seconds later the narrator confirmed. She then went on to tell me that the gazelles they were hunting"...look like deer! No goats! No, I know! They are cantaloupes!"

When the cheetah finally caught the "cantaloupe" she said, "Mommy! The cheetah is killing the cantaloupe! What should we do?" I responded that it was important because the cheetah was hungry and the gazelle was its dinner. "We don't eat cantaloupes! We don't eat animals!" I started to explain about how chickens, etc. were animals, but I just figured it was better to smile and laugh. I like cantaloupe, anyway.

My Peeps

Sometimes I look at my little girls, at the people they are becoming, and I am awed. I can't believe that I helped to create (not just bring in to the world, but to actually MAKE) these two perfect little individuals.

And I say "individuals" quite deliberately. Because even though I have two children of the same gender, from the same parents, they are quite different. Apparently the recipe is never quite the same.

When AK was born, the Hoos and I were quite surprised that she was a girl, mostly because she had dark hair. Silly, I know. But we knew what little girls that we made looked like - and they had white blond hair and lots of rolls. Not almost black hair and skinny arms and a tush the size of two thumbs!

And the surprises just keep on coming. Both of my girls are pretty outgoing, but AK is more adventurous. They both like being the center of attention, but AK is more likely to be selective in identifying the source of the attention. They both are/were good eaters as infants, but LP used to store food up in her cheeks for hours and slowly meter it out; AK scarfs down food as quickly as she can shovel it in.

Since they are both so young (three and one respectively, natch) I can't say I have their personalities all figured out. But I do continue to be amazed that not only are they different from one another but they are not even necessarily like me or the Hoos. I actively look for clues, asking my parents if I talked incessantly like LP (I did) or looking at baby pictures of the Hoos and seeing both LP's rolls (yes, really! for those of you that know the Hoos) and AK's curls.

I know that as a parent I will never have my children all figured out, but I do think I am starting to get a better handle on my parents. To think that they looked at me with stars in their eyes the way I look at my angels?! And that on some days they were also tired and struggling to not beat me and my brother down?! As Mr. Slinger, in Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse would say: Wow. Just wow.

Deprivation

Yesterday I put my foot down.

When I picked the girls up at day care, LP's teacher told me that my big girl had a meltdown. Something about hula hoops and not wanting to share and freaking out. Awesome. So sorry I missed it.

So, combined with her unfortunate behavior that morning, I knew that action was needed. But what?

When cute little MK asked LP if she wanted to go on the slide with her, the answer was clear.

"I'm sorry, MK," I told her, "but LP wasn't a very good girl today so she can't go on the playground. Maybe if she has a better day tomorrow."

And that was that. LP didn't whine or complain. She simply put on her coat, held my hand, and walked out to our car. It was very sweet. But also devastating, because I wanted to go outside and sit with my friend, MLH, MK's mom.

I also used the bribery recommended by so many. Last night I told LP that if she was a good girl today I would put a special treat in her lunchbox, "cookies with sprinkles" (really nonpareils, but she doesn't grasp that they are pure chocolate with no cookie to be found). And, to ice the cake, I said if she was good and the weather was nice, we would also go to the playground.

The Hoos said both girls were great today. They still got out of the house later than they wanted, but that may be due to the fact that they heard a transformer blow as they were eating breakfast, causing a power outage.

The true test will be around 5 when I pick the girls up.

Different Strokes

Over the last few weeks, the Hoos, the girls and I have had the opportunity to hang out with four other families for events and activities. We feel very fortunate to have started to develop a network of other people that we genuinely enjoy spending time with. It helps that we all:

• Have two kids
• Spaced our kids 2-3 years apart
• Are two-income families
• Almost all (4 out of 5) attended college with our spouse
• Have similar values in terms of family coming first

The clincher is that we all have kids. It does make a difference in terms of expectations and planning. We all know about eating dinner early and working around nap time, none of us are phased by a meltdown, and none of us expect to actually eat a meal in silence or stay up/out too late.

For perspective, married friends without children came over for dinner on a Sunday night a few weeks ago and stayed past 10. The Hoos and I almost passed out from exhaustion.

Also interesting is that no matter how similar we are, everyone has their nuanced way of parenting. A way that works for them. All of the people we have been hanging out with are great parents and they have wonderful children. I couldn't raise their kids and they couldn't raise mine (nor would they likely want to after experiencing a tantrum courtesy of LP or listening to AK shriek with joy while eating).

What do I mean by all this? I mean don't ever buy another parenting book. There is no one-size-fits all way to parent. Starting with a base of good,strong values and lots of love, chances are things will work themselves out making for a less stressful, more enjoyable life. And happier, healthier kids.

A Lost Hour

You know those times in your life when something happens (e.g., traffic) or doesn't happen (e.g., waiting for the cable guy who never shows up) and afterward all you can do is shrug and think, "Another hour of my life...wasted."

Today was one of those days.

I spent more than an hour squatting in a restroom in the pediatrician office, a cup poised in my right hand under LP's tush.

An hour, waiting to be peed on.

When she finally did pee I wanted to shout, "Thank you Jebbus!" Actually, at first I thought I had missed my chance (along with the pee), but I managed to catch enough for the doctor to determine that LP was fine.

This entire experience lasted more than an hour and a half actually. Most of that time the nurse felt bad for me and carried AK with her while she completed paperwork. AK was an angel, never making a peep. But everyone has their limits. Especially for other people's kids.

And I learned where my limit is for my kid.

I reached it when we walked in the door from the pediatrician's office (a five minute drive) and LP yelled out, "I HAVE TO PEE!!!" and took off running to the bathroom.

It would only have been worse if she hadn't made it in time and I had to clean pee off of my hands for the second time in an hour.

Get Over Yourself!

There was an article in yesterday's NY Times that I just noticed today, When Grandma Can't Be Bothered. It discusses how new parents - particularly new moms - have this expectation that their parents will want to drop everything, change their lives and become full-on babysitters, day care providers, or in some other way extremely active in their grandchild's life.

This is ridiculous.

My parents and in-laws are wonderful grandparents. They are very active in the lives of all of their grandchildren (to the extent possible given geography, etc.). They babysit when possible and convenient, take care of sick children, tend to them when day care or school is closed, have sleepovers, etc. I am confident that there is no doubt in the minds of any of their collective nine grandchildren that their grandparents love them.

The Hoos and I made a conscious decision shortly before getting married that we wanted to live near our families when we had kids. Not because we expected free day care, but because we wanted them to experience the joy and love of having a close relationship with their extended family. And they do. We see my parents several times a month, video conference with them on the computer at least once a week, and see my in-laws (who live closer) pretty much weekly. We also spend time with my brother-in-law and his family most weekends, giving the kids a warm and wonderful relationship with some of their older cousins.

Just because my parents are retired doesn't mean that they want the next chapter of their lives to revolve around their grandchildren. They raised me and my brother, we turned out okay and blessed them with four beautiful granddaughters, now is their time to have some fun. Sure, some times that fun involves their grandkids (as we speak my parents are on a plane to visit my nieces in California and it was less than a month ago that my parents took LP to see Sesame Street Live), but that doesn't mean it HAS TO.

I joke with my parents that I could rent them an apartment in CT for less than I pay for day care every month. They could live in CT and watch the girls during the week and return home to Long Island for the weekend. This is totally true (and very sad) but absolutely a joke. I recognize that my parents have their own lives and things to do.

I don't know why this article made me so angry. I feel better now for having vented.

You Know You're a Mom When...

• searching through your purse for your work ID badge you have to sift through random detritus, like diapers and wipes
• your own snot is the least disgusting thing on a used tissue in your pocket
• you realize it is just easier to catch throw up in your hand rather than clean it up off the furniture after the fact
• making three different meals is "just easier"
• you start downloading StoryNory and Sesame Street podcasts to your iPod
• the last CD you bought contains the song "No more monkeys jumping on the bed"
• you don't mind waiting for the cable technician to show up as long as he makes Nick Jr. onDemand stop freezing
• you hate specific toys with a vehemence you didn't know you had

The Job Description

Remember when you were first out of college and searching for gainful employment and you naively thought that a job description would neatly encapsulate all of the responsibilities of a job? Of course it is all of the other tasks that you undertake that end up not only making up the bulk of the job, but make you a better employee and more employable.

I was a little more worldly by the time I became a mother but it still makes me chuckle to think of all of the things that would purposely be left out of the job requirements for this role. Every day I complete a new activity that should have seemed obvious when I decided to embrace the joys of motherhood, but somehow didn't make it into my consciousness.

Today's addition to the mom description, the selfless, under appreciated task of scrubbing poop stains out of clothing.

What are some of the tasks that you didn't realize came with the position of "mom" (or dad for that matter)?

Robyn reminded me in the comments, here are some of the other duties I became aware of over the last 2+ years:

• Booger hunter
• Dairy cow
• Lounge singer/DJ
• A gourmet chef

My Divided Attention

For the second time this week I am home alone with my two girls. LP's low grade fever has returned and I am perplexed as to its cause. Once again, it is not in any way dampening her energy.

There are definitely some positives to having LP home with Dee and me during my maternity leave. At this life stage, LP is more entertaining and interactive than Dee. She also has an amazing ability to keep Dee awake, which I hope ends up working to my advantage this evening. In addition, when LP wants to be, she can be quite helpful, retrieving important things like diaper cream or burp clothes or inconsequential things like the remote.

On the downside I feel as though no person or activity is getting my undivided attention at any point in time. If I am nursing Dee, I am also trying to keep LP from wreaking havoc. If I am reading to LP I am trying to at least pretend to be reading to Dee as well. When making LP's lunch, I am distracted by my stomach's growling; as I attempt to get LP to nap, I am concerned about Dee, last seen sleeping quietly in her car seat on the kitchen floor. And most of the time I am glancing down or feeling myself up to make sure my boobs aren't leaking.

Really, for parents home alone consistently with more than one child, how do you do it? How do you focus your energy? Do you just have to wait until the weekend and the arrival of reinforcements to give undivided attention?

Poopy Pants

For some reason LP hates getting her diaper changed. Especially when she has a special delivery. No kid ever likes to sit still, but you would think that getting rid of the little mound under your tush and have a dry diaper would be worth waiting patiently for two minutes. But, no. She twists and squirms and screams and basically makes our lives miserable while we are trying to remove the offending nappy. And let's not even talk about the process of getting a new diaper on.

We have tried bribing her with food. From offering a mishy (marshmallow, a treat usually only reserved for using the potty) after we are done, to giving her food while going through the changing motion.

We have tried bribing her with non-edible treats. "After this you can sit on the potty for as long as you want and Mommy will read you 5 books."

We have tried reasoning. "If you just stay still this will go much quicker and then we can go back to having fun."

Today the Hoos even had her promise that if he changed her downstairs, instead of in her bedroom, she would be good. I guess a baby promise is worth less than a pinky swear...not that she even knows what a "promise" is...

We have had to resort to restraining her as best as possible (while simultaneously trying to change the diaper and avoid getting covered in poop). I hate this. The Hoos hates this. It makes us feel mean and bad and just plain awful. We have no idea how they get her to comply at day care. It isn't every time, but it is at least once a day.

I know, I know she is only 20 months old and if this is as close as we come to a tantrum we should just deal. But it sucks. And we still have to change her...several times...daily.

The Special Club

This morning when the Hoos called me after dropping LP off at day care, one of the first things he said to me was, "Do you ever think of us as being in a special club? You know, a parents-only club where only members can truly understand how much you can love a little person?"

This is not a knock on non-parents. It is really just a note about how fortunate we feel to be LP's parents. I couldn't even have imagined the depth of my feeling toward little LP before she arrived. And, now that we are expecting Bun, I am already anticipating how that feeling of fullness will grow. And I am sure I am even under-estimating that.