A Happy Mother's Day

Sundays are never relaxing, but this one at least had bits of fun.  

Paul reminded me how much he and the kids are glad I am/was not this Troubled Bird: 

And then after many of the Sunday chores, they took me out to Kind Ice Cream*.  The long line was surprising to us, but not to some daycare friends we saw on our way out.  

 

 

* I was not surprised that this suggestion was from Emma, who'd sweetly/not-knowingly pulled "A Homer" (with regards to Marge's bowling ball).   

 

 

Re: Food wrappers in James's bag

Here's to thinking positively... 

You Otter Know

Co-sleeping was not in the plan.  But it is what it is, and, le sigh, the past week was this: 

She's not so small anymore.  Her head knocks against mine and I wake up.  I don't sleep so well and my neck and shoulders hurt.  But, I guess she's having some sort of tough time, so she needs me... and I know I should cherish it, since it will all change... and then I might miss it.  

Original photo: North American Otter from Nature Canada. 

At least he's consistent?

Yesterday morning: 

Me: "Oh, no your finger is bleeding.  Have you been biting your nails again?"

James: "No, Emma came in at night and bit me."

This morning: 

Me: "Oh, no you're wet."  

James: "No, Emma came in at night and pee on me." 

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Tall tales, Emma-blaming, and lying are supposedly, for his age, "a sign of intelligence", but it's so tiring and frustrating.  I'm reading the articles* and trying not to get too worked up.  Paul's take got me to laugh (until I wanted to cry again): "At least he's consistent."

* How to Discipline when your Child Tells Tall-Tales, Fibs and Lies and 8 Seemingly Innocent Child Behavioral Problems Parents Shouldn’t Ignore

Panes, Drains, Trains, and Auto stuff

A short warm snap means time to get going on these chores, or else be caught in under zero weather and snow again... though would be easier if I didn't have this cold.  

Never mind, go, go, go!  Let's get it done! 

- Caulk/seal the draft in the window frames (wipe the condensation between the windows?)

- Clear the drains (open windows for ventilation) 

- Switch out the old car seat for new (Emma is growing up *sniff*)

- Bring in the train table from garage 

- Take out boxes to garage 

- Dig out more winter gear 

Wish me luck!  

"I miss the luxury..."

"I miss the luxury of caring about stuff that doesn't matter." ~ John Green


It's a marathon.

The List(s)

To get some buy-in, I'm piggy-backing on one of James's current favourite stories: The List* (from Frog and Toad Together by Arnold Lobel).   We've made to-do lists after breakfast for the past week.  And, we'd sometimes check, sometimes cross off (sometimes both) the completed tasks as I nudge/remind/push him through them.  It sort of works?

Yesterday, while mapping out our day writing up the list, he said, "James is Mama's list."

To him: "I think you mean "James and Mama's list"". 

To myself: "Yeah, pretty much." Sigh.

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* A copy of the story can be read here.

The story read aloud:

Mama / Bun

This morning wasn't bad, but The Weakerthans "Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure" played on CBC and I quietly cried.  Paul didn't know what to do.  I calmed down and got back on with the routine. Repeating in my head my version, "I can remember the sound that you found for me."   Unlike Virtute the Cat, I know I'd be called back.




All this sadness is temporary.  Should instead be enjoying the breather away from James and get some stuff sorted for when he's back. 

Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure
The Weakerthans

It had something to do with the rain
Leaching, loamy dirt
And the way the back lane came alive
Half moon whispered, "Go"
For a while I heard you missing steps in the street
And your anger pleading in an uncertain key
Singing the sound that you found for me

When the winter took the tips of my ears
Found this noisy home
Full of pigeons and places to hide
And when the voices die
I emerged to watch abandoned machines
Waiting for their men to return
I remember the way I would wait for you
To arrive with kibble and a box full of beer
How I'd scratch the empties desperate to hear
You make the sound that you found for me

After scrapping with the ferals and the tabby
Let you brush my matted fur
How I'd knead into your chest while you were sleeping
Shallow breathing made me purr

But I can't remember the sound that you found for me
I can't remember the sound that you found for me
I can't remember the sound

I take it back.

If only I could convince James that he'll regret it too :P

"I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger."

Now, and things to look forward to?

From Fatherly "51 Moments of Parenting That Are Absolutely Terrible"

• Realizing that something smells terrible and the only way to figure it out is by sniffing your kids’ asses and clothing as though you were a truffle hog.
• When your kid gets up at 4 a.m., thinking it’s real morning and is energized and stoked to get the day started.
• When your kid becomes obsessed with putting on their own socks and, even though they can’t do it, they’ll yell at you for trying to help until, an hour later, they ask you to fix their crooked sock.
• When your toddler has a Level 10 meltdown and you desperately want to know what happened but you realize that it’s impossible to understand what set them off, let alone translate the angry language they’re speaking.
• Understanding that parenting is introspection, and that, while it’s great to have a better awareness of yourself, you will constantly see your faults reflected back at you.
• When your hand becomes the go-to place for your kids to spit out food they think is gross.
• When it takes 15 minutes to walk 50 feet because, Oh, look there’s a stick, and Oh, there’s a stoop to sit on, and Oh, is that an ant?
• When your kid crawls into bed and wants to sleep so close to you that their head is on your pillow, they’re breathing on your nose, and their hair is in your mouth.
• When you have to repeat same routine every single morning on every single day — to remind your kid to eat their cereal, brush their teeth, get dressed, put on sneakers, put their dirty clothes not near the laundry basket, not adjacent to the laundry basket, but inside the laundry basket. Every. Single. Day.
• When you’re hit with an inevitable health emergency of a child that makes you realize how fragile their life actually is and how very little control you have of sustaining it.
• When you understand that your kid is simply emotionally limited, but also knowing that you can’t help but see them as a spoiled, no-good, terrible little adult with sociopathic tendencies.

Love, Amazing Luck

James seemed so happy to see me that a light went off in my brain and my heart felt warm.  I've heard it before, and now I understand: this what it feels to be the subject of pure love, pure acceptance.

I'd actually dismissed Miriam Toews's "The Summer of My Amazing Luck" for being too unrelatable -- how could someone in such pain and poverty still have this lightness?  Living in that situation would be hard enough, and then add on being a single-mom with a young baby... her choices were so strange... (Though, even back then I still appreciated some of the beautifully written moments.)  I definitely counted her son as added burden, but I can see now how he could make things bearable, tolerable...

So does Theresa's repeated question, "Do you love me?" over and over again to her kids.  It annoyed me to hear it, (and likely them too since they always just responded with a sigh).  But, yep, one day it must change and it won't be as pure, unconditional, or obvious, and one has to ask.

This is another "enjoy it while you can" moment, isn't it?

Some admin: James officially has a middle name!

Giggle, giggle...

Ah, you`re ticklish!  Usually you don't like having your face, neck, washed...

Wait, is this good?  Does James actually like the feeling, or (like Paul) hate it and would jump and run away if he could? 

Ugh, I feel almost evil because I don't care which it is! The sound lifts and opens my heart (like in Chinese = happy).  I can see why some people live for it and strive for it.

Now I wish I could catch it on camera, then I could relive it without the good/bad-potential-guilt questions every time, but it's so fleeting. 

I'm here all week.

"We both live with a poo-making machine..."

My Hollywood

At home with a newborn, and husband, Paul, is starting a new career...

That's me, but also it's Claire, one of the narrators in Mona Simpson's My Hollywood.  It's eerie reading her reactions and thoughts and seeing myself on the page.  Every time "Will" is mentioned, I would see "James" -- at least in the early chapters. 

I'm past those crushing feelings from the early months. But I do still occasionally feel sad.  A part of it is probably over-anticipating Lola's heartbreak for my own.  Will I ever gain her wisdom? 

Anyway, the book came into my radar from the This American Life's archives, "$ 82.50 A Day." Act 5  of Secret Life of Daytime.  I'm finally catching up :P 

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P.6 \ That's how they get you. I'd heard that phrase all my childhood, though who they were was never clear.  Ten in the morning, Will seventeen weeks old, I knocked over the bottle of milk I'd been pumping.  It hurt to pump, but I'd already adjusted to the sucking bites and the odd porousness of my nipples after.  I hiccuped sobs, moving around the black kitchen. We needed those ounces.  I had a concert in New York in nine weeks.

Then he started crying too. I rocked him, his blanket loosening. No atter how many times I studied the folding diagram, my swaddlings opened.  His small arms shook, his face blotchy.  Everyone told me babies liked the bouncy chair. I slid Little Him in, and he screamed. Paul was gone. Will and I were both exhausted. I couldn't sleep because I believed our baby might die.  I didn't know why he wouldn't sleep. This was a monumental responsibility, like nothing I'd ever known.
...
I had no talent for this.  Paul could make funny sounds like the track of a cartoon, momentarily interrupting Will's misery. But Paul wasn't here. Will and I both felt astonished that he was stuck with me.
...
He wasn't the only one who cried.  Paul understood that I stumbled around the rental house broken and that this, too, might be something we'd have to endure. Still, I cried too much.  That at least had to be fixed.

P. 143 \ Even now, I wasn't sure what I could tell a daughter.  I should have been raising Will to be different.  But I felt a little of what the rich must feel: I didn't want to give away his advantages. When I picked up his clothes from the floor, I chanted iambic: Your wife is going to hate me. But by then I will be very very old. 

P. 238 \ ... I hardly remember the beginning anymore; I remembered it the way you remember someone else's life.  There was a year he woke up at five.  Paul changed his diaper and drove around until Will's neck wilted on the car seat.  For months, I'd worried about whether I had enough milk.  I didn't want Will to have a drop of anything else, even water. I pumped and Lola marked the date on each bottle. So many things that seemed crucial and excruciatingly hard ended and then didn't matter anymore, forever after. Little Him would never remember. All the closeness; looking up into your eyes as he sucked; you could have fed him unwarmed formula, for all he'd know by the age of memory.

At a year, Lola stopped boiling the bottles.  At fourteen months, I weaned him.  If I'd succeeded at this or failed, it was finished.

Andrew and Sherry (what you can can't prepare for)

It felt good to go over to Andrew and Sherry's to talk about pregnancy and parenting, see it in action, and get some down-to-earth advice. 

We arrived during the sleep routine:
- No TV after 6 p.m.
- Snack and stories start at 6:30 p.m.
- 7 p.m. bed time
- lavender oil to help relax them, and sometimes melatonin drops

But of course, since Paul and I are sooo exciting, after bed time the kids left their beds to peek in on what we were doing. 

Not much really.  We had some food and talked.

I was warned about about some of the judgement that's likely to come:
There will be people looking at the bulge of the diaper and judge: cloth=good, disposable=bad; the bulge of baby's cheeks for muscle development: breastfeeding=good, bottle-fed=bad...

But remember, it doesn't matter.  You'll be doing your best, and that's what matters. 

They talked about strength when things don't go according to plan. 

The funny: thought their first baby would be a girl -- in the delivery room they were rethinking the plan (right, boy scouts instead of girl scouts)

To the truly trying: Beforehand thought the only thing she couldn't cope with was a child in the autistic spectrum. 

How things can escalate to C-Section: Their advice: If you start out with fewer / less intervention(s), there are more things you can do before getting there. Reminder: You have rights. 

"The boys" went then to talk about furnaces :)

Sherry then says she'd be happy to listen to me vent, and be the "appointment" I have when I needed to escape Mom's over attention. 

They are good people.