The Motherhood Ideal

You know how there are some days, or at least some hours, when you feel like you're doing a pretty good job as a mom? You say the right things, you do the right things, and your child is happy and considerate and says "I love you, Mama," and "Please" and "Thank you," and is in general a bunch of fun to be around.

I feel like those days, those hours, are slipping away from me far too much lately. I want to be the best mom I can be, I really really really really do. I love that darn little girl of mine so much and I still feel a little thrill when she calls for me because I think it is such a privilege to be her mama. But she is the total embodiment of "terrible twos" right now, and it's sometimes I snap before I can stop myself. And sometimes I find myself trying to explain to her why I'm so frustrated, but I already know that what I'm saying is too complicated for her. So she isn't going to understand and the moment is already gone. And then she's already on to the next thing and I'm still standing there, inanely saying "Sabrina, do you understand why Mama is so unhappy? Because you did something that I asked you not to do and I keep asking you not to do it and you keep doing it anyway and that makes Mama very frustrated." And she's totally oblivious to me already, and I can hear myself talking and am thinking "What the hell am I even saying??" Even if she was listening, I'd have lost her in the first half of my warbled monologue. But I still can't stop.

I read an article recently that recommended that when you're frustrated with your child, you should stop and ask yourself what you'd want your mom to do if you were the one who was two and the roles were reversed. I'm trying to do that, and it helps sometimes. Because of course, you'd want your mom to stop, take a deep breath, and get down on your level and explain in a way you understand and wasn't all mean and snappy. God, I don't want to be mean and snappy. And yet (head down in shame), I am.

Actually, I have to say that I've had moments in the past day or two when I also want to be able to reason with Nathan as well. Mind you, he's just 12 weeks. But he really only wants me to hold him and not John, and he cries a lot, and his new trick of sleeping through the night (can I get a hallelujah??) means that he doesn't really nap much during the day. Which is great at night, but means he needs to be entertained all day. So sometimes I'll be trying to hold him and deal with Sabrina and I'm starving and really want to just put him down for a few minutes to get to deal with life. And I'll find myself wanting to just say to him, "Nathan, Mama's hungry and she just needs to eat, so if you could just sit there in your bouncy chair, that would really help."

I think perhaps I'm losing it. Because, sure, I could say that to him. I'm sure it would sound like everything else I say to him - some nice flurry of sounds that mean nothing to him. Because he's a baby.

Hmmm. Perhaps this is what my voice sounds like to Sabrina as well, only maybe not as nice or flurry. I just make sounds that equates to something she doesn't want to hear, so she just ignores them.

Oh, and Nathan has a flat spot on his head. This is driving me nuts and is providing me with yet another reason to feel terribly, horribly guilty. It means he has spent too much time on his back, and I admit it freely - he has. Between carting Sabrina back and forth to preschool in the car and spending hours at various parks while he (hopefully) sleeps in his car seat in the stroller, and popping him in the aforementioned bouncy chair so that I can take Sabrina to the potty or whatever the crisis of the moment is, the poor little dude spends a lot of time on his back. Oh, god, I feel so bad about it. So now he has a flat spot. The remedy is obvious - get him off his back. And, in no small coincidence, he lately has absolutely no patience for being anywhere but in my arms. He hates his car seat, won't stand for the bouncy seat for more than 5 minutes, and will only barely tolerate being propped up in his boppy pillow. So I got a new sling and I'm trying to learn how to use it. It will help when he can hold his head up a little better, but in the meantime, I'm trying. I am. I don't want him to end up in a little head helmet.

So yeah. There's little around here that's ideal right now. Is there ever?

O Holy Night

So I almost hate to say this for fear of jinxing it, but Nathan has started to sleep through the night. (There it is - now that I've not only thought it but put it on paper, I'm sure to see everything go right back to the way it was.)

Seriously, though, he's sleeping. And not just the 5-6 hours that they say constitute 'sleeping through the night.' He's sleeping 8 hours at a time. 8 hours!!! I kid you not. He has done it the past two nights, and I just keep thinking he's going to realize that he likes eating more than he does sleeping and start getting up every 2-3 hours again. Which would be okay, but man, I like this way a whole lot better. In fact, I'm so gosh darn energized when he does wake me up, usually around 5am, that after I feed him from boobs about to burst with milk, I go in the other room and pump the rest. And then I come back to bed and get to go back to sleep for another hour or so until Sabrina wakes up. This is something I could keep doing for a long time.

It's so much nicer than the bleary stumble to the changing table and then back in to bed to nurse him every 2 hours or so. Although I've developed some favorites on TV to keep me company. I like the Craig Ferguson show on CBS. He's really, genuinely funny. It doesn't seem nearly as scripted as some of the other late-night shows. And I also like the ABC News Now show that's on from 2-5am. I keep it on that one for a long time. Then I'll switch over to local news if I'm up anytime past 5am to see what the local weather is going to be like and to plan my day with Sabrina. Plus, there are things we have on TiVo. So I can totally survive another few months of sleeplessness if I have to. But the taste of sleep is so sweet. You just gotta love it.

Baby Budda Belly

When you're newly pregnant, you just can't wait to start to see your belly expand. In both of my pregnancies, I started wearing baggy maternity shirts and pants as soon as I could eek out any sort of actual rationale for it. And when you're in full bloom, with a belly out to there, you're proud and happy to let it stick out there and when strangers notice it, you think, "Yup, that's right. There's a baby in there."

And then you have the baby and all of a sudden, that cute little budda belly isn't so cute anymore. It's just a belly. With more folds and heft to it than you find desirable. And you want it gone.

I'll admit now that I kept an eye on the scale during both pregnancies, even more so this last time. And I worked out until I was put on bed rest in my 7th month. So when I finally got on the scale after Nathan was born, I only had a couple of pounds to lose to get back to my baseline weight.

I know what you might be thinking - a few pounds? Who freakin' cares??? Well, I do. The thing about being so vigilant about working out and staying at a certain weight for years is that, well, you're vigilant. And I want those pounds gone. But I'm nursing, and you have to be really careful about losing weight when you're nursing. Plus, sometimes your body won't let the weight go.

So, long story short, I tried for a couple of weeks to just watch what I ate and to get back into working out to see if the weight would drop. It didn't. So last week, I joined my husband (who wants to lose about 15 pounds) on a balanced-eating diet, where you eat these carefully balanced meals of protein, dairy, veggies/fruit, and carbs every 3-4 hours. And I lost a pound.

You'd think this would be giving me incentive to keep going and to keep my ass in gear. But I haven't worked out this weekend, and I'm sitting here, struggling with not wanting to get my butt off the couch and go do it. We even recently bought a jogging stroller so that one of us could take Sabrina with us and go out for a run when the gym just wasn't an option. It is sitting in the corner, mocking me with how little it has been used. The child care at the gym has already closed for the day. The gym isn't an option. But it isn't raining outside. The jogging stroller is an option.

Damn it all.

I should go. I should run. Running is the best way to torch calories and you can do it in 30 minutes or less and be totally virtuous in that time. But. I. Just. Don't. Wanna.

Damn it all. Maybe I'll just go eat some Oreos and worry about it tomorrow.

PS - In case you're wondering, yes, I took Sabrina to the Children's Museum on Friday. The good mom in me came out and won. Sometimes that does happen.

Nursing Woes

So the nursing woes continue. I stopped by a nursing store yesterday (the good thing about liberal ol' Northern California is that we have such things, I suppose!) and spilled my tale of woe to the cashier. Hey, in a crisis, anyone who will listen will do. She actually listened quite nicely, suggested that I use these 'comfort pads' in my bra, and pump after I feed my baby to make sure that all the milk is being emptied from my breasts.

Well, I'm here to tell you that pumping doesn't feel a whole lot better than nursing does right now, but somehow I'm feeling better about the whole thing. I guess it helps to have some sort of plan of action, even if the plan comes from the cashier at the nursing store. Plus, I will get to see the actual lactation consultant tomorrow, and I hope she's ready. I may actually run, not walk, to get into her office.

Other than that, my inner-mom-angel and inner-mom-devil are battling it out right now. When Sabrina wakes up from her nap, I should really get both kids collected and go to the kids' museum or something equally stimulating. But part of me just wants to say screw it, because just getting both of them ready to actually leave the house can be exhausting. Much less balancing a newly-potty-trained toddler and a nursing infant (never mind the whole nursing pain issue) in public. The good mom would just sigh, load up the good ol' diaper bag and go with high hopes for a relatively smooth outing. The bad mom would just sigh, say it isn't worth it, and turn on "Curious George" for everyone's viewing pleasure instead. I still don't know who will win. Stay tuned!

The Best Laid Plans

So nothing today has gone like I expected it to. Par for the course with two small children, I realize, but there are still quite a few days when I'm able to steer the course with fair accuracy. Not so much today.

It started out with a doctor's appointment for Nathan, my two-month-old. He needed some shots and then I was supposed to meet with their lactation consultant to discuss why I have been having stabbing, excruciating pain when he latches on for the past couple of weeks. He's not a newborn, this shouldn't be happening, and I need help. My husband was supposed to pick up our daughter from preschool and take her home so that I could make these appointments, but when I was literally pulling out of our driveway, he called to say that there was an emergency at work and he couldn't pick her up. I'd have to cancel the appointment and go get her myself.

Needless to say, I was unhappy. I don't want to dread nursing, and right now, I do. It hurts so damn much. But nevertheless, I had to reschedule the appointment for Friday.

This afternoon, after I had gotten everyone home, I had high hopes of getting them both to sleep at the same time. That way, I could eat and then if the baby stayed asleep, I could have some good one-on-one time with my daughter, who has been all sorts of awful toddler crazy lately. But the baby has yet (even now) to sleep more than 10-15 minutes at a time today, and he didn't stay asleep, so I had to juggle them both, as well as still more painful nursing sessions. Oh, and eating? Yeah, right.

Even now when it is early evening, I just nursed and walked the baby until he was asleep while my husband took Sabrina, our two-year-old, to the park. (Yes, he does have some redeeming qualities.) But the baby is already fussing, so he's obviously STILL not asleep. Lest I think I could actually get anything done the way I want it to be done today. Foolish me.

Something to check out

Here is another site to check out for other blogs...(Pardon the plug, but it's always interesting to read other people's perspective!)

Mommy Dearest

So you know those moms, the kind who always have totally healthy, perfectly packed snacks with them at the park for their kids? You know, the kind who always seem to know exactly what to say to their children, even when the kid is being a total pain, the ones who seem to have endless reserves of patience? I am not one of those moms. I want to be. In fact, I think of those moms when my daughter acting like a maniac, and instead of rising to the occasion and being kind and gentle and serenely guiding her through the moment, I'm snapping like a wild turtle instead. I always think guiltily of those moms and wonder what they would have done and how they would have handled it differently. And then I feel even worse, because who doesn't want to be a better mother?

But here's the other thing I think (hope?) - maybe those moms do the exact same thing in the privacy of their own homes, when there are no other moms around to watch and evaluate how they are handling the situation. Maybe they snap at their kids too and don't think of the right thing to say all the time, much less say it. This makes me feel better, and I hope I'm right about it. In the meantime, I really do need to try harder to stay calm and gentle as much as possible. (Although a friend just emailed me and reminded me that sleep deprivation is a form of torture and that Navy Seals who were woken up every two hours for a week or two began to buckle. So that makes me feel a little better. Blame the sleep deprivation. Life will get better when my newborn starts to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time.) Right?

What The...

So the cat is peeing on everything. Everything. I'll be out and about and all of a sudden, I'll catch a whiff of that terrible, familiar scent, and I'll start sniffing everything around me, including my clothes, the kids, the stroller...I must look like a lunatic. Plus, I'm trying to keep from having to explain how and why the cat is peeing on everything to my two-year-old. So when she pipes up and asks with great interest, "Mama, what are you doing?" as I surreptitiously sniff my gym bag, I have to nonchalantly answer "Oh, just looking for something." Yeah, right.

Why is the cat doing this? Why?? Is it because of the new baby? Is it because of the new baby and the toddler and the fact that I have absolutely no time or affection left over by the end of the day for cats? (Or any other creatures for that matter, just ask my husband.) Is the cat food tainted and she's really dying of kidney failure and I'm a terrible kitty mother because I'm letting it happen? I've checked and the cat food we buy isn't on any of the recall lists, but you just gotta wonder sometimes. Sigh. This means I'm going to have to get both our cats into the vet to have it checked out. I so don't have time for this. But then again, I don't want her to be sick while I stand around and bitch about all the peeing, so I guess it's just plain time to go see our beloved vet, Dr. York. If only the veterinary office offered childcare...

Trying to Focus...

So I'd like to sit here and write something profound and funny...but my two-month-old, placed just minutes ago in his bassinet fast asleep, is already making noises that mean my free time is limited. Plus, my two-year-old is also asleep, but that can't possibly last much longer either.

I just managed to gobble down lunch at 3pm, after getting home from the pediatrician's office to see why my daughter's rectum turned inside out on Easter Sunday. (Turns out she just needs more water, less milk - who knew???) Oh yeah, these are the things no one warns you about when it comes to motherhood. I mean, I love my daughter more than life itself, but there are some things I just don't need to see. Ever.

Anyway, then I raced home to feed her lunch and get her down for a nap before it was too late in the day, which would result in her having a complete and total meltdown right during dinner. Not to mention my son wanting to nurse non-stop and wanting to be held and, well, oyyy. Oh, and the cat peed on the diaper bag, so now I need to figure out how to get that horrible, rancid cat pee smell out of something that I carry around with me everywhere. I put my wallet, keys, and phone in my son's car seat and left the diaper bag in the car when we went into the pediatrician's office so that she wouldn't think that I let my kids live in utter filth. (It's not utter filth, really, it's just complete disorder. Who has time to clean the house when you're raising two small children?? Seriously. June Cleaver, I'm not.)

My husband said he'd be home today around 5. Am I completely selfish for resenting his calm, adult-filled day at the office? I mean, sure, you've got meetings and annoying co-workers, but no one pees on your briefcase, you don't have to explain about a rectum turned inside out, there isn't spit-up on your shirt , and chances are, you've had a shower in the past five days.

Okay, the baby is still fussing. I'd best go see to him, or I actually WILL be in the running for Worst Mother of the Week.