In the Night Time

I battle a special kind of kryptonite. My weakness is small boys in the night time.

They come, sometimes sneaking and sometimes padding on quick feet, to my side of the bed. If I know they are there, I lift the covers and invite their warm sleep bodies in. Often, I will feel their warmth on my back or their breath in my face after they are already snuggled in deep and back asleep.

The youngest one is still soft in the way only young children and babies are. That intoxicating smell of infancy clings to him with a fierceness and I breathe it in every chance I get. The oldest one is lanky already, but his cheeks hold kisses as easily as ever.

I never have the heart to send them back to their bed, with tears in their voices and Momma on their lips. I make their dad do it. His heart is harder than mine. I would rather wake with a crick in my neck and an ache in my back then send them back to their own room.

One day soon, they will sleep all night and never make the journey to my bed. They will grow to be taller than me and only kiss me when prompted. When they lean down to kiss me, I will breathe deep and remember what they smelled like when they were small in the night time.

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Subterfuge and Motherhood

I know lying is wrong. It says so in the Bible. It was important enough to be in the Top 10 things To Do and Not Do, according to God. However, any good mom knows a little subterfuge is all a part of doing the job and doing it well.

Here are some examples.

Example #1

Over the year, my kids get a lot of candy. It all goes into gallon bags with their names on it in the pantry. Whenever they remember it exists, which is not every day, they ask to have some. If it is appropriate timing or I can use the candy as a bribe (eat all your kale), I do. My kids do not eat candy frequently enough to ever eat all the candy in our bags and I am certainly not going to eat all of it since I do not want to weigh 500 pounds.

What’s a good mom to do? I can’t just throw all the candy away. They would notice that. Kids are smart and sneaky, just like moms. We have to be smarter and sneakier.

I throw the candy away a little at a time. That way, the volume reduces gradually and they never know. You must be careful, though to throw the candy away in such a way that they will never know, which brings me to Example 2.

Example #2

Kids bring home two categories of trash. Stuff they make that is “priceless” and they want to keep forever and trash people give them. You know what I mean by the latter. Cheap toys that break within 5 minutes, decks of cards with cards missing, rocks, broken rubber bands, twisty ties, jar lids, and kid’s meal toys. You know, all the stuff they never want to get rid of.

If you are not careful, your house will be like Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout‘s and you will drown in garbage. To avoid this, while your kids are out of the house, choose a handful of the trash items and throw them away. Warning: Do not simply toss them into the trash can. You have to bury them under other trash or put them in a bag and throw them away.

People without kids are now thinking I am one crazy, paranoid lady, but let me tell you that every time a kid throws something in the trashcan, they spend a looooong time peering into that can. They know something fishy is going on in their house. If they see even the spec of some beloved item/piece of trash actually in the trashcan. All. hell. will. break. loose. Bury that stuff deep and put some smelly garbage on top of it for good measure.

I am not even going to cover all the things we regularly tell kids which are out and out lies: Santa, the Easter Bunny, or why they can’t watch Thomas the Train. My friend hated Thomas so much she told her two-year-old Thomas was not on TV anymore or Netflix or anywhere. I laughed and was sorry I did not think of that first.

Happy Parenting!

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The Difference Between Knowing and Knowing

Some things you know intellectually, but you do not know until you are neck deep in it. Parenting is like that. Before you have kids, you hear stories and you think you know, but you have absolutely no idea. None.

Before you have a baby, people tell you all kinds of things about how much you will love them and think they are perfect, wonderful, intelligent human beings even when all they do is blow spit bubbles all day. You think you know.

But then you hold them and your whole world explodes. You finally know what it is to love something in a visceral way. You know that you would do absolutely anything to give the moon to this tiny person. Anything.

Eventually, you realize that being a parent is a whole series of not really knowing things. It is a thousand moments of your world exploding: when they take their first step, when they reach for you after being separated, when they hug you for the first time, when they say “I love you” in that tiny voice, when they pick you flowers, or draw you a picture.  Every time you come to know something new, your heart crumples.

As they get older, you start to know different things, things that make you crazy, make you pull your hair out, or make you wish it was acceptable to drink at 10am. It is still not OK to do that, right?

Before I became a mom of two, I knew there would be extra whining, fighting, and mess. But I did not know.

There are days that I know I am crazy, when the laundry never gets folded, there are matchbox cars literally everywhere, when I have wiped each bum in this house multiple times, the dishes are overflowing from the sink, I manage to write some words, and dinner only gets made by some miracle.

Even on those days, at the end we will be snuggling into bed to read and sing and I will feel little arms around my neck and small lips meet mine. Then, my world explodes and I know how blessed I am to be the mom of two small, wonderful, amazing, and intelligent boys and I would do anything to give them the moon.

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Mom is Essential Vernacular

I recently shared with you that Gideon believes that Mom does “all the things.” I have further evidence to support this idea.

Wash is an adorable 18 month old chap. He does everything his brother does (no matter how naughty), eats like a man determined to gain weight (he IS growing), and still only has 5 teeth (though he is working on two more). What he does not do yet is talk. Much.

He says some words: Ma. Da. Daw (dog). Mo (milk). Sna (snack).

Every once in awhile, he will say a word, like “down’ or “papa”, but then not repeat it again for a week or two. What is the most amusing, is his use of the word “ma.”

“Ma” means a lot of things. It means Mom, obviously, but it also frequently used to indicate the following:

• Hey, look at me.
• Look over there.
• Put on my shoe.
• Put this sock on my foot.
• Gideon won’t stop laying on me.
• Gideon won’t stop tackling me.
• I want some milk.
• I’m hungry.
• I want a bath.
• I’m ready for bed (this is accompanied by him man-handling my chest since bedtime is the only time he is nursed).
• I’m excited! And yelling!
• I peed in my diaper, please change me. Also, there may be poop.
• My hands are dirty because I got tired of using my spoon for the yogurt.
• My water is gone, please fix that.
• The TV is not on. That needs to change.
• Look at the ridiculous thing this Elmo kid is doing! Mr. Noodles is an idiot.

Ma can mean many things. Why? Because Mom does all the things.

This would be sad and tragic if I had a husband who was uninvolved in the house and our boys. That could not be farther from the truth. I am blessed with a man who does many, many things around our house and who adores spending time with his boys.

It has become the family joke, that I do all the things.

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Out of the Mouth of Babes #231

Our children are so smart. I give you exhibit #231 a conversation between Gideon and Ries:

 

Gideon: Why does Mom do all the things?

Ries: Doesn’t Daddy do things too?

Gideon: No, Mommy does all the things.

Me: *fist pump* That’s right ALL THE THINGS.

 

 

 

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Public Service Announcement

Attention children! Getting up before the sun rises, a.k.a. before a decent hour, is annoying in the least and uncivilized at the worst. Please refrain from doing this. This had been an announcement of the Parental Mental Health Association of the Smith Household.

This morning at 6am, Gideon joined the already full bed, so that all the humans were squashed together, snuggling. I had Wash next to me with Gideon next to him. Neither of the boys was going to go back to sleep, but I was letting them talk to each other while I pretended I might get to sleep for 10 more minutes.

I had my arm across Wash and resting on Gideon, whose side I was patting. Gideon said, “Mom, can you keep your hands to yourself?”

Sheesh.

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The Value of Moms

Now that we have two children, the times when I can choose to do something uninterrupted is virtually non-existent. It does happen every other week or so, for about 20 minutes. Mostly, I have to catch small moments during nap times, when one of the boys is asleep. At this stage, having them both asleep is like the Holy Grail of parenting and we have not achieved that yet.

That being said, this past weekend, Ries went out of town (on a boys weekend to Colorado, jerk) and I sent Gideon to his Oma and Papa’s for the weekend. I felt like I was alone, with only the Wee Wash to look after. Well, and the huge slobbery dogs. Saturday, Wash took a long nap and I was able to sit down and write over 3600 in my new writing project, the most I have done in one sitting, I think, so far. It felt great and I was very happy.

It was quiet here, without Gideon, and I was happy to go pick him up yesterday night. When I arrived, he was playing with some wrenches from Papa’s tool box. I walked up to him, holding a Sonic LemonBerry slush. He took one look at me and said, not “Hi, Mom!” or “Mommy!” or “I missed you.” with a huge. No, he said, “Hey, did you bring me one of those drinks?”

So, on the grand scheme of things, I rank somewhere lower than a Sonic LemonBerry Slush.

Ries on the other hand, ranks higher than both the slush and me because today at lunch, Gideon and I had the following conversation:

Gideon: Our family is missing something.

Me: Oh? What?

Gideon: Daddy.

*eyeroll* Moms are never appreciated. Perhaps it is because we do not come with that fabulous Sonic ice. 🙂

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Ries’ Post – Monday

(For an explanation of this post, see the first post in this series for Ries.)

I think you might kill Wicket. For real this time. I let her out when I got up to feed Wash, about 3:45. We fell promptly back to sleep and forgot about her. I woke up after 5 to the sounds of Wicket flinging herself at the door. God forbid the dog just bark to be let in like a normal dog. Why can we never have NORMAL dogs? I let her in and noticed dirt on the porch. Uh oh. I turned on the light and noticed a very deep 1’x1’x1′ hole off the right side of the porch. I guess she was punishing me for leaving her out there. I filled it in as best I could after we got up for the day, but then Gideon dug some of it up again later on. Sigh. As if the drought was not enough to kill the grass.

The day went downhill from there. While we did not have any out and out three year old tantrums, I did spend all. day. long. arguing with Gideon. Contrary to popular belief, I hate arguing. I hate being adversarial with a three year old. I hate that I spend all day either arguing with him, ignoring his arguments, or punishing him for direct disobedience. It is exhausting and not the way I wish to treat my child but I know I can not let him think it is ok to argue and disobey. (if there are other parents out there with advice, I will happily take it)

I know I was this way when I was younger. I am blessed with a child that has my personality. I want to foster his opinions and strength but also teach him authority and respect. It is a fine line. I do not want to crush his spirit. He has a right to his opinions and they have value and I want him to be secure in that knowledge. However, he also must learn that he is not always right and he does not need to argue about everything. Sometimes we have to do what we do not want to do. In our family we call that, “Tough crap, that’s life,”or for older folks, “Tough shit, you’re an adult.” Unfortunately, crap and shit are not words I use around Gideon… yet, and this is not an easy lesson for a 3 year old who is by nature selfish.

Gideon is an awesome kid. He is smart and has a truly amazing imagination, but he is exhausting. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. We have a play date with the Martins so we will be out of the house. Bless you, Nancy for calling me this morning.

Wash cried when he was not asleep or eating and that did not help my mental state. He fell asleep early (thank you, Lord) and took a long afternoon nap earlier.

I am drinking a glass of port (beautiful alcohol!) and I will have some ice cream, chocolate, later because that is the kind of day it has been.

I miss you, and not only because I have to drive this crazy train myself, but because it is lonely without you here to talk with in the evenings.

Oh, and in case you have not checked ESPN yet, that Rory McIlroy dude, completely smoked everyone and finished with a -16. Also, South Carolina beat us 5-4 in the College World Series opener.

‘Night, Lovey.

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Transitions

It is certainly different, having two kids. I know that challenges will continue as they grow. Right now, just getting them both out of the house is a production.

Gideon has been taking the transition from only to sibling ok except that he has been really challenging our authority. He is finding out all the same rules still apply, much to his dismay, and there have been many more spankings and time outs then normal. I sometimes feel like I spend more time yelling at him than talking to him, which is frustrating for me.

We have spent a lot of time on the couch, reading Where the Sidewalk Ends, so I am hoping that counts for something at the end of the day. We have some very generous friends who have been feeding us and a couple of them have brought things for Gideon. The thing he loved the most was a bug catcher’s kit.

He used the book, net, and magnifying glass to look for bugs all day, for about three days in row. It was great and kept him very happy. Currently, in typical almost three-year-old fashion, he is yelling at me from his room, insisting that his quiet time is over and he is not tired.

Riiiiiight. I have heard that song and dance before. It is the kind of song and dance where your partner insists he is a great dancer, but than tromps all over your toes while bumping into all the other couples.

Wash is great. He sleeps at night, only getting up once around 2 or 3. I am actually getting some sleep. I thought babies who slept were an urban legend. Seriously. People make that stuff up to torture new parents. Gideon still wakes up a couple times a night. When Gideon was little he woke up like clockwork, at 10, 12, 2, 4 and was up at 5 or 6. And by little I mean for the first 6 or 7 months.

I am sure the sleep patterns will shift, but for now, I am getting enough sleep. Ries, who is in charge of Gideon at night, is not getting as much as he would like.

I feel incredibly blessed to be a mom, even though I mostly wonder what the heck I am doing. Plus, my boys are really very adorable.

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It’s Amazing

We have been occupied with getting ready for Brother’s impending arrival, 3 weeks and counting, and battling a bought of unpleasant sickness. Thankfully, I have so far escaped the flu/cold thing that brought Gideon and Ries so low. Everyone is more or less on the mend. I will post a more newsy update later. For now, I have a funny story for you, involving a boy and his favorite body part which will be referred to for the remaining of the post with the word “twig”.

Gideon was on the potty before nap time today as a preemptive strike. He did not have to go, but did proceed to play with his twig. I mean, it was already out there, right? As twigs are wont to do, it became less, ahem, flaccid that normal. At this point, I decided he was definitely not going to pee, so I took him off the potty. He stood there, holding his twig, which was pointing straight out, looked up at me, lifted his eyebrows, and said, “Isn’t it amazing?”

Amazing was the exact word I was searching for. Actually, I was laughing so hard I did not have a reply for him.

When he is older, he will be mortified that I tell these kinds of stories. I love being a Mom. Bwahahahaaaaa.

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Advice to a first time Mom

I just wrote something in an email to a first time mom, I thought I would share because it pretty much sums up the first few weeks.

Being a parent is wonderful. It really is. Just keep telling that to yourself the first few weeks when you wonder what the hell you were thinking. Once you find a groove, everything is fabulous!

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Being Pregnant, Again

In the past few weeks I have been thinking about the state of pregnancy, mostly because I am now pregnant enough that it effects what I can physically do. At 28 weeks, there is no doubt that there is a wiggly person in my belly, making it hard to tie my shoes. All in all, I have easy pregnancies. I do not get overly sick and I feel pretty good. That being said, the second time around is just not the same.

The first time you are pregnant, everything is amazing and wonderful. Your growing belly is exciting. You do not know what to expect at all and so it is all great, even the random pains.

The second time is pretty blah. I already know how this works. While I do feel wonderfully fertile, I am no longer amazed by my growing belly. It is a bit grotesque in some ways. I am annoyed that I get out of breath so easy, that it hurts my belly if I bend over too much, or that putting my head anywhere lower than my shoulders results in instant heartburn. I still love to feel him move around, but Brother (the baby’s prename thanks to Gideon) likes to poke me in uncomfortable places in a way that Gideon never did. One of my ankles swells, just one, and my hips are sore.

It is hard to chase a 2.5 year old with 14 extra pounds in the middle of my body. Overall, it is just more tiresome this time around.

I wish I could have a pint of good beer with my husband some evenings and I am more irritated about that than I was last time. While the end result, a sweet baby, is definitely worth all the little annoyances and I do not mind having a great diet to give Brother the best possible start, I am not sure I want to do this again.

I am looking forward to Brother being here. I am looking forward to breastfeeding again. Giving birth and feeding a baby from the power of my own body makes me feel very powerful and productive. I love that part of having a wee babe, so if we could just rush forward 12 weeks (and the house would magically be ready) that would be great.

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For Keeps

This happened a couple days ago.

Me (holding Gideon and squeezing tight): I love you, Gideon. Will you be my baby?
Gideon (earnestly with his little cheek next to mine): Yes. Keep you.
Me (melting into a puddle): Aw, Baby. I want to keep you too. Can I keep you?
Gideon: Yes.

I think my heart just exploded.

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Hungy

Gideon tells me often that he is “hungy.” He is hungy in the morning. Hungy for snacks. Hungy in the middle of the night when he should have eaten his dinner. Sorry, kid, have some milk. No snacks until breakfast. Hungy, Hungy. Hungy. Gideon seems to have a black pit where he puts food. I know and dread how this will worsen as he reaches teenagerhood. Lord, please be gentle to my food budget.

He loves cereal bars. Whenever I give him one, he eats it and then asks for, “More cereal bars.” I lie and say we do not have any more cereal bars. (Lying is a great parental trick, too bad he will eventually catch on to it.) I tell him he has to eat X that is also on his plate. Then begins the lament of You Are The Worst Mom Ever Because You Only Let Me Have One Cereal Bar At A Time. It is a sad lament, but one I hear often. Gideon changes this lament occasionally when eating other favorite things that we only let him have one of: hotdogs and cookies are the things that come quickly to my mind.

Worst. Mom. Ever.

I think I can live with that badge if it means he eats a greater proportion of good things to bad things.

He is currently hungy and sad because I gave him a cereal bar and cheese for a snack. He wants more cereal bar and does not want the cheese. I guess he can be hungy until the cheese starts to look more appealing to him or until dinner, whichever comes first.

Of course, the cheese will make a second appearance with dinner if not consumed before then. See? Told you I was mean.

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Being a Mom

Nothing prepares you for being a parent. You may think you know, but you never do until you actually are The Mom. My sister-in-law recently had her first baby, right before Christmas, and all her triumphs and trials have made me remember those first hormone filled weeks of motherhood. Ah, the tears! The smiles! The joys! And then more tears!

The thing that floored me the most was the way being The Mom felt like a cloying burden in those early days. You feel tied down, literally, by the thing on your breast. The knowledge that you, and only you, can care, feed, and soothe this new person is, at times, overwhelming. The whole time you know that you choose this way, this child, this life and still you wonder what the heck you were thinking. Then of course, your baby smiles (or passes gas) and you think the entire world is filled with unicorns and moonbeams.

I am not seeking to dismiss the way Dads feel. In fact, I think the burden of being responsible for a family is pretty big, huge, but as I am not The Dad, I do not know and can only speak for what I felt.

I think all new Moms have to cross the Holy Crap I Have a Kid and Now My Life Will Never Be the Same Ever Until They Are Like 30 and Even Then… River. Crossing that river is hard work. Making the changes to the life you used to lead is hard. Being responsible for the care and feeding of a person is the hardest thing I have ever done, but it also the best thing I have done with my life, will do, in fact.

It is painful and joyful to bring a child into this world. You wonder, at the beginning, if you can ever do that again. Then, with time you know for certain, that the hardest things are also the things most worth having.

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Botched Seams

A post in which I attempt to sew a few things.

I should start out by saying that I do know how to sew. I have, in the past, successfully sewn many things. Today, though…

Yesterday, I cut two yards of fabric into the parts for two pairs of pajama pants for Gideon. One print was a nice dog print and the other had frogs and lizards. Today, after Gideon went to sleep, I set up the sewing machine and sat down. It was then that I realized I had cut the panels on both yards wrong. If I were to sew them together, one side of the pants would be printed and the other side would be the unprinted underside. There is no way to salvage that, really, so that is two yards in the scrap pile.

I called my Mom to confirm my mistake.

Next I cut the fabric I bought to make Gideon some pants for his pirate costume. This time, I cut them correctly. Whew. I put the backs together and the fronts, respectively and sewed the inside seam together, which I vaguely recalled as being the next step.

Wrong. By sewing up the inside seam, and the ahrder to ri I sewed up what should have been two legs. I also used small straight stiches, the better to hold and the harder to rip out as well. I put those aside to rip the seams out later. At least those are salvageable.

Since I had botched all the pants, I decided to a try the vest next. This was to be an easy affair, with very little seams because I want it to look raggedy. I was only going to sew the sides and shoulders, leaving the arm holes and bottom unhemmed. I cut the vest using a shirt as a pattern. I think it turned out well. I proudly sewed up the sides and turned it right side in to admire my handiwork.

At this point I realized I had sewn the arm holes closed.

*headdesk*

I cut behind the seams and made arm holes. I reinforced the seams so they would not come undone. Gideon, by this time, had woken from his regrettably short nap. I had him try on the vest. Made some adjustments and I think it looks pretty good.

While Gideon ate lunch, I ripped the seams from the sad pirate pants. I will attempt to sew those tonight after Gideon goes to bed. Hopefully, this time I will not make such a mess of it.

The worst part of this is that I feel, not mad or frustrated, but tired and defeated. I used very precious nap time resources on a mostly, useless endeavor.

Animal Atlas is over, and thus my computer time is as well.

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Training Parents

Gideon is getting bossy for one with so few years, but occasionally, his bossiness is appreciated.

Last night, Gideon and I had finished dinner and I was sitting on the couch. It was about 7:15. He came over, patted my arm, and pointed to his room. I asked him to, “Show me.”

He led me down the hall, pointing. Gideon walked right up to the rocking chair and pointed again.

I asked him, “Are you tired?”
“Yes,” he answered, nodding and smiling.
“Do you want milkies?”
Again, he nodded and smiled.
“You can go to bed if you want.”

At that he walked into the hall, where he could see Ries, who was still eating, and said, “Bye-Bye,” and walked back to me.

I fed him and he was asleep by 7:35.

I think he has us trained.

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Mother’s Day

IMG_9594

Originally uploaded by Wandering Eyre

Yesterday, my boys made me a picnic complete with a pitcher of sangria wine. They really know how to make a mom feel loved. The kitchen fairy visited my kitchen and I laid on the bed and read all afternoon.

It was fabulous! I am very blessed.

Plus, I think these are three of the handsomest boys I have ever seen!

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms reading this blog. I hope you were treated well and know that you are well loved.

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