Learning curve, oh and poop

All of Eleanor’s poop looks just like this. Seriously.

 

So the other day I literally caught poop in my hand. Despite being the mother of two, this was a first time experience for me. Obviously I’ve been pooped on, thrown up on, peed on, had things throw at me, been covered in projectile vomit repeatedly… You know, the usual badges of honour that us parents wear.

But this was, honestly, a first.

Sometimes I think that I can communicate with my baby. She seems to understand me when I babble things like ‘Who’s a pretty girl? You are! Are you pretty? You ARE! Who loves Mummy? YOU DO! Who’s my sweetie pie? YOU ARE!!!!’

(Also, I have to admit…. It is slightly humbling to hear your older child talk to your younger child in the baby voice you use. It makes him look slightly psycho. He’s four. And so that would make me…??? Old and more psychotic. Great.)

She smiles a lot while I say these (and even more ridiculous) things. So clearly we are communicating. And so when I ask her things like ‘Please don’t poop on me. Or pee. Please don’t poop or pee on me.’ as I am carrying her to the bath, I feel optimistic. Since we’ve been ‘communicating’, we’ve have no issues. 2 weeks ago, I started feeding her cereal and since then, things are a little more up in the air. Bowel movements are a bit up in the air these days….

Ie: Feed cereal. Poop it out instantaneously. Feed peas. Poop out immediately.

So I guess my plan of ‘feed dinner, immediately take a bath after’ probably was not the most well thought out plan I’ve had in recent weeks. Other plans that are equally bad? Eating hard boiled eggs bought at 7-11 for breakfast, forget to wash hands and lick fingers that are covered in dry formula and accidentally walk through puddle that is actually ‘garbage water’ (as in that liquid that leaks out of a dumpster).

Naked bottom holding with long distance walking is for sure up with these other special plans. And also, total potential Olympic fodder for future games.

Anyways, blah blah blah she pooped in my hand. Then we both took a bath and I sanitized my hand.

Parenting: a constant learning curve.

xoxo am

 

My love affair with TurbiTwist, or how I am extra lame

Just a half-Mothra in this shot. Extra gorgeous.

A week or so into being a full-time working mum of 2, I realize that having a turbitwist really is an essential item in my daily life.

My mother-in-law gave it to me as a joke gift at Christmas and I actually didn’t regard it as a joke. It wasn’t funny, it was practical. And kind of awesome. And my sister-in-law got one too. She might have been less excited about it than I was, but she is a decade younger than me so that pretty much explains that.

I’d used it on and off since Christmas and let me just say that it never ever ever looks as stylish on me as it does on the packaging model. I look like the hugest nerd ever, with extra big ears. My ears aren’t that big; somehow the towel accentuates their size, turning me into Dumbo. Or Mothra. yes, I think thats a better comparison. Powder blue towel head with enormous Mothra ears on either side.

I look ridiculous.

But

BUT.

Guess what saves time in the morning? Washing your hair at night.

And guess what sucks for people who have ridiculously curly hair and live in a State like, say, Florida, where it’s extremely hot and humid and rainy and tropical all the time? Not having enough time in the morning to sort out said hair, leaving the house with it wet/damp and looking ridiculous in a professional setting as a result.

Yup. That is the epitome of suckage. I might have been able to get away with it when I was in my twenties, but since I am now firmly in my mid-thirties it really is pretty damn sloppy to hit the road in the morning like that. Especially in Florida when it quickly turns into Giant Clown head.

And so? Yes, it’s true. I now wash my hair at night and throw it up in a turbi twist and sleep with it like that. And in the morning, my hair is mostly tame and only requires the merest whisp of flat iron to behave. And this, in between the insanity of feeding a baby, feeding a preschooler, walking the dog, my husband juicing a million fruits and veg for what seems like hours, avoiding getting covered in formula, getting covered in formula, changing my clothes again, slapping on some makeup, driving to Eleanor’s daycare and then speeding into the office… Well, this really does help the morning run smoother.

I also think this really helps bolster my ‘cool mom’ factor. Well, even if it doesn’t (which is really hard to believe), my hair has been looking pretty amazing.

Get one. It will change your life. xoxo a.m.

And back to work I go: First steps

I enjoy a pipe once in a while… (instagram bitches)

So it’s the end of May and guess what? I’m going back to work.

I was pregnant yesterday. Don’t you remember? I have to admit that I have to concentrate to remember myself. Eleanor was first and foremost a dream. And then an unexpected reality. And then vividly and sometimes violently present, in a manner of speaking.

One day, she was in two places at once. That’s how amazing she is.

And then, suddenly, we were a family of four.

If you asked me 15 years ago (and it pains me to even have to use that number to go back far enough in my past), I never would have imagined myself with two children. And now I can’t imagine myself without.

This past week I packed it in with Vince and Eleanor. Edward told me I was crazy pretty much every morning when I told him what my plans for the day were. But you know what? Grocery shopping is the big test with two kids. If you can manage that, then it’s safe to say that everything else really can be that easy. He has yet to experience it and therefore doesn’t thoroughly understand. Jerk.

Afternoon stroll

Therefore the Zoo and Gatorland are totally doable. The Brevard County Zoo is amazing and I’m not even a big zoo fan. You know… animals… cages… Makes me slightly uncomfortable. Not the biggest fan. But there happened to be animatronic dinosaurs and that is always a winner. And a splash-pad. Ignoring the fact that we were yelled at by a zoo employee for splashing in an, apparently, inappropriate area (assholes), it was amazing.

Mummy! I love gators. A lot.

And Gatorland? Gatorland has a train. AND, obviously, gators. AND PopPop came and met us. And nobody yelled at us. AND there were hotdogs. Win!

We hit Disney up too. Vince has been dying to go, has mentioned it non-stop for weeks. We finally managed to get a date that worked for all of us. And as a bonus for me, my lovely cousin was able to join us. Since the boys rode all rides possible and Eleanor and I just hung around, it was awesome that she was there to assist in mocking tourists non-stop. It’s an easy job, but someones gotta do it. And she does it well.

Friday was a day I was proud of. I took Vince to the library AND he used  his inside voice THE WHOLE TIME. And nobody yelled at us like the week before.

So I guess you can boil down the things that I taught my son in the last few weeks to be the following:

How to use a remote control

How to operate the dvd player

How to open the front door and run down the street (wait… what?)

How to pee like Daddy does (What? Wait…. Didn’t he already know how t…. Oh. No. Nope. he didn’t. So glad I learned that…)

How to pick up his sister and carry her around like a sac of potatoes (this was not taught, he learned all by himself)

How to identify his sister as ‘his’ and ‘not yours, Mummy’.

How to fluently use the term ‘sweetie-pie’ and ‘big-brother’ and neither used in a creepy manner.

How to pick up and carrying around our chihuahua, in a manner that does not invite dog-bites. Mostly.

How to (help me) make scrambled eggs. And also how to (help me) do the laundry.

Tomorrow I head back into the office. After dropping Ms Eleanor off at daycare for the first time of course. I am hoping that everything goes smoothly. For me, I mean.

Second time through being a mum is way easier. I might have mentioned this before and it’s completely true. You know what to expect this time and I found myself pretty much not fazed by anything. Poop, pee, coughing, rectal thermometers, crying, rashes… whatever. It’s just so much easier to handle mentally because, in my case especially, everything awful that could have happened already has. In some case, it’s happened repeatedly.

Even daycare is easier to approach and so I’ve been gearing up for it for the last couple of weeks. Most likely I’ll still be a mess tomorrow, that’s just my emotional m.o. I am a Cancer, after all. But this time around, I am way more confident in my choice of a caretaker (Vince’s school) for my sweet girl. {ie: She’s not staying in someones garage and that someone won’t lie to us and disappear months later. Still weirded out about that.} (also that sounded way worse when I wrote it out than it actually was. Honest.)

Regardless, it will always be hard to leave your child for the first time. And after weeks of Eleanor daily sweetness, and about a month of gummy grins and gooey little noises I know that it won’t be a cake-walk.

So wish me luck tomorrow. I will be keeping it together.

xoxo a.m.

Nurture, not eye-roll (or at least less eye rolling)

“Mummy!” Vincent shouted at me the other day, with real fear in his voice, “There’s a monkey in my nose!”

And what, you may ask, does this mean? It means he has a booger.

……..

Exactly.

About a year or so ago this phrase evolved, probably from me saying something ridiculous like “You’ve got bats in the cave”. I frequently say things that border on the ridiculous to both my children. Who doesn’t? Isn’t that part of parenting? Making up explanations for wee folk who don’t really understand what you are saying? Most of the time, the more creative you are the better. Once we told Vince ‘Don’t crawl around under the table because that’s where the snakes are’ and we’ve pretty much never needed to worry about him doing that in a restaurant ever again. (Yes, yes, we are awful, I know. Whatever.) So how on earth did a playful “You’ve got a monkey in your nose” evolve into something that is a cause for major concern, in my son’s eyes anyways?

Breastfeeding, Boobs and other fun stuff

 

Formula, boobs, whatever… just as long as it’s in my tummy!

Breasts, such a tricky subject to dive in to. So let’s get at it.

How I am still alive: A tale of survival and bleeding

I’m almost through my second week of sahm-ness and for the most part, I seem to still be alive. And, by a surprising coincidence, my son is as well. (Eleanor is, of course, completely perfect and no trouble at all). While still alive, I am worn out.

While feeding Eleanor again… (and I say again, because all I did yesterday afternoon was feed her. Constantly. From about noon to 5 pm and I am not even exaggerating) I noticed a funny discoloured spot on my shirt.

Timebomb: A tale of bowling and jealousy

Vince woke up this morning with one thought on his mind.

Bowling.

I know right? I was thinking the same thing… What on earth??! It’s completely the fault of Scooby Doo. Or actually, my fault since I bought a few ridiculous Scooby Doo books for Vince (don’t do it!!). Books which apparently featured bowling enough that I had to explain it and since then he’s been fascinated. He’s reminded  me that I had mentioned we could go at some point.He asked again yesterday and I thought why the heck not? Sure! Let’s go bowling on Friday morning.

Moving forward

I am pleased to report that there have been no further poocidences since last weekend, I’m happy to move forward and to stop talking about it for as long as possible. Or at least until something awful happens again and I feel the need to share it with everyone.

And so, on that note, moving on!

Most of us are adjusted. Mostly. Honest.

Edward and I comprised the adjustment team in our household. Most of the time we function properly...

Ok, so I know that I said that having a second child was a piece of cake. And it is. Honestly.

Honest honest.

For the adults anyways. Should I have clarified that?

For Edward and I, adjusting to Eleanor (who is delightful, smells delicious and is, in general, gorgeous) is like nothing. We already had 9 months of me sleeping like crap, so getting 3 to 4 hours a night in a row is a total bonus. Plus, and maybe I shouldn’t say this but…, she’s perfect and so much easier than Vince ever was as a newborn.

Get this: She cries when she’s hungry. The end.

Well shit. I think I can manage that…

Edward and I have this theory that she is going to be the ‘easy baby’. Vince was a nightmare as a newborn. I have recurrent bad dreams of singing ‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’ repeatedly and watching endless infomercials on the couch. Edward and I would compare notes every morning on what we’d seen (we took turns every evening). Vince would not got back to sleep after being fed, he was always awake and miserable.

Now Eleanor? Angel! Sleeps like that’s her goal in life. I haven’t watched an infomercial in the last 3 weeks. Hopefully I can keep this up. Or she can keep this up.

So as for the adjusting… well, like I said, Edward and I are adjusting just fine. Now Vincent? Not so sure…

There is no doubt about how much he loves his sister. Every day he makes some sort of comment about how she is ‘people’ and in his family. As opposed to the dog, who is not ‘people’ but is still included in the family member count.

He wants to rock her, feed her bottles, give her a pacifier (or binkie as it’s randomly been named here). He kisses her all the time, sometimes at rather precarious angles. He pats her on the back and head and says ‘excuse me’ when she burps. He is just great with her.

And with us, he is a complete and total basketcase. So awful. Horrible. Ick. Yuck. And ‘nasty’.

He’s started spitting in the house and has spat on the dog (for no real reason we can see, poor dog) and us randomly over the last few weeks. He has completely stopped listening to us and as a result we’ve had to implement rather strict punishment. Which means that pretty much E and I are laying down the law all day, every day and it is exhausting. I hate to list his misdeeds, so just imagine everything awful that an almost 4 year old could do and that’s whats going on. Frankly, it’s a relief when the weekend is over and he goes back to school. I think he might be a tad easier to handle there, where there are more children and very strict rules that are rigorously enforced (unlike some places…).

Like my house. In case you hadn’t picked up on that.

Listening right now is a huge issue for us. As in he doesn’t. At all. Or pretends to, but does something else entirely. So you ask him to do something and his response is to ignore you. You repeat yourself several times. No response. Or my favorite response: spitting. Or something else that’s just poor manners.

A confrontation regarding bad behavior yields not that much. The only thing that’s gets his attention is to remove privileges. And that’s where you get a response. A huge ‘I’m a liar’ response:

“I’m going to be good”.

“I’m going to be nice”.

“I’m going to listen”.

It’s usually one of these followed by “Mummy, are you happy of me???”

And this one is a hard one to answer. I hope he is addressing his behavior, but since he is in preschool, I am pretty sure that I would be reading too much into the issue if I did. I certainly don’t want to tell him he isn’t making me happy, implications and all… So E and I have compromised with ‘I am not happy with you when you spit on me, but I am happy when you have nice manners’ or something to that effect. At least we can let him know his manners are bad, but we still love him.

Such a precarious balance.

And really this balancing act is what is making things a little bumpy. I like saying ‘bumpy’, makes it sound like a plane ride that is a little out of hand and will be over soon. Optimistic overtones, ya?

I’m going to keep these tones in mind over the next few weeks and try to double my smooth breathing technique and monitor my blood pressure. And drink my tea every morning and make sure my pants are pulled up properly. All of these morning techniques should make for me having a calm and even temper and, of course, make sure that I KEEP MY TEMPER IN CHECK.

Because I certainly would never let me any 4 year old get to me.

Ever.

And I still have most of my own hair.

Partial wig only, swear… xoxo a.m.

Reflections

One week ago, Miss Eleanor Marie was born. It was a Monday afternoon, right around that time in the afternoon when you are winding down the work day. We were winding it up, man. That’s just how Edward and I roll…

As I sit here on my bed in my quiet, clean bedroom with Eleanor rocking away next to me, in the throes of a milk-induced coma, it’s interesting to reflect on how my life has changed in such a short time.

To be honest, it was very hard to realize the enormity of baby number 2. I mean, we knew she was coming, there was no doubt. She was in there, she had to come out sometime. We were even given a date as to when that would be. And when that date arrived, even when we were all checked in to the hospital and being ushered by the sweetest nurse into the birthing suite where she was going to be born. Even to the point where I was naked and putting on a hospital robe. And even when she arrived, when she was physically in this world and not in me anymore, her impact was still hard to actualize.

It wasn’t until we left the bubble of the hospital and hit the reality of our little home that we understood her impact.

I believe it’s the kind of thing there is no way to really prepare for.

*sigh* Best. Feeling. Ever.

But huge changes. Huge changes for Vincent, change that’s pushing him to make bigger boy steps, maybe ones neither of us were ready for yet. We have no choice though and Vince is now firmly on that path from ‘my baby’ to ‘my child’. My son. It’s hard to articulate… He’s growing up and it’s kind of hard for me to see. However, you know that old adage ‘That’s life’, and that is indeed it in a nutshell.

But all seriousness aside, this second baby business? Piece of cake. Piece. Of. Cake.

No really. I mean it. I’ve already been through the wringer with Vince, so pretty much nothing fazes me now. Only difference? More vagina. Yup, that’s about it. And let me say, it’s a little easier to deal with. Apart from not knowing where random pee will be directed (at least with Vince we could dodge…), I’m familiar with the territory. Yes, it’s true. I have one too.

Anyways, small volcanic eruption in our household and things are settling down to normal. Slowly settling, with some hiccups to be anticipated. I feel almost normal and apart from a few lingering reminders of last Mondays events (like that one foot that’s still a bit swollen, oh and Eleanor of course), it’s like she was always here…

much love xoxo a.m.