Friday, August 27, 2010

My Girls

I don't remember what I was talking about at the time, but the phrase "for my girls" came out of my mouth. And I immediately fell in love with that statement. It made me think in a whole new way... of course it will be stressful, and hard, and I'll probably continue to cry a lot, but hey. I'll have my girls:) Here's a onesie I made for Squishy, and a shirt I made for Emma!

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

And we're moving on...

Alright guys, sorry to get so dramatic in my last post. I know I said I wasn't being melodramatic, but let's face it... it was pretty melodramatic. It was all very real, and very true to what I was feeling, but lest ye worry... let me 'splain.

We have had a CRAZY several months. Let's see... 37 weeks ago we decided to put the house on the market, and set forth on 6 weeks worth of renovations and project clean ups on the house to get it ready. Then, we put the house on the market and I simultaneously became pregnant. Then we spent five weeks being freakishly anal about keeping the house clean and presentable. Then we sold the house, and spent the next 4 weeks looking for a new house to move into. We found one, and then spent another 3 weeks filling out mortgage paperwork, and packing our house. And then we moved when I was 12 weeks pregnant. Then we lived in our new house for 2 weeks before driving to Myrtle Beach, SC for a week of vacation which was splendid, but simultaneously exhausting. And then we came home and tried to unpack from vacation and also still from the move, and then a couple weeks later we packed up again and drove two days to Iowa. Then we stayed a week with Jerry and Sara and had a lot of fun watching Emma run in circles with her cousins, and try to ride Max. Then we drove home and unpacked again, but still weren't done actually unpacking the house. Then we had church picnics and the 4th of July get together with Mike's family, before Chrysta and her three boys arrived at Mom and Dad's. Then we spent the next 3 weeks galavanting with them. It was literally three weeks straight of go, go, go... in a very good way. And then just before Chrysta left, Scott and Christy came with their two boys and were here for another week. And we also spent that week go, go, going which was very fun.

That brings us up to 3 1/2 weeks ago.

And, well, we haven't really had much to do in the last 3 1/2 weeks, except watch me gestate. Which isn't as interesting as it sounds.

Soooooooooooooooo. This week hasn't been bad, but the three weeks before it... Emma. Was. Miserable.

She would wake up every day and ask for her cousins, or cuzzy's, as she called them... and she would ask for them by name. EVERY. DAY.

It was the same thing, every morning. Wake up. Eat breakfast. And then have this conversation...

Emma: Go!
Me: Go where?
Emma: Garage?
Me: What's in the garage?
Emma: Cars.
Me: Where do we need to go in the car?
Emma: Go. Car. CUZZY!
Me: But your cuzzy's had to go home! We could go to the park?
Emma: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (insert screaming and crying)

And then she would start listing her cousins off by name, and I would tell her where, specifically, each cousin was.

And when she realized there was no cousin to go see... she would just be miserable. Completely distraught and sad. Tears streaming down her face, that kind of sad.

On top of this, Emma simultaneously began having problems sleeping again. She'd gone 4 or 5 months where she'd sleep soundly for 12-13 hours each night, and then take a really good nap in the afternoon. Well, as soon as the cousins left, she started putting up a fight at bedtime, waking up in the middle of the night, waking up 1-2 hours earlier than usual in the mornings, and taking very short, or even NO nap at all. So she was cranky about no cuzzy's to see in the first place, and RIDICULOUSLY tired on top of it. For 3 weeks... same thing every day. I don't think the sleeping thing was really related to the cuzzy's at all, just an unfortunate coincidence that I can't really explain. But regardless of the bags under her eyes, it was apparent that I was THE LAST person she wanted to spend her time with. After weeks and weeks of go, go, go, with tons of people around to entertain her, she was just not happy having to adjust to just mommy. And I took it kind of hard. It doesn't help that I am also crazy hormonal. It also doesn't help that I'm waking up multiple times in the middle of the night on my own, let alone when Emma's waking me up... so we're both just sleepless and cranky. Oh, and then she and I both got sick last week.

After the last 37 weeks we've had, I, personally, would love to just SIT and RELAX. Emma has other ideas.

SO ANYWAY. Sorry if ya'll were worried (mom). We're doing ok up in here, we're surviving at least. And I'm learning a lot about myself and Emma. I really appreciate all your supportive comments. I knew I wasn't the only who had ever felt that way, but it was nice to hear that others have had their moments, too. It's hard NOT to compare yourself to others, but it's true, we often don't let others see these hard moments. It's the shining moments they see.

I'm happy to report that, so far, this week has been better. Her sleep seems to be improving, and her mood is improving as well. She's more tolerant of trips to the park with just me, and the weather has cooled down a bit this week so I can tolerate being outside for longer stretches with her. That helps. So we'll see how things go.

And just so you know that I'm still the same as I ever was...

At church we were talking about Job in Sunday School, and the only comment I could muster was, "Mo' money, mo' problems". And yes... I said that out loud.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Breath in, Breath out

Today was a very hard day. Well, I guess it was just this afternoon, but still. Hard is hard. I've been dealing with feelings of self-doubt lately, and it just sort of came to a head today. I keep asking myself why on earth I thought I'd be able to handle two kids, when it seems like sometimes I can barely handle the one I already have.

I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by women who are wonderful and amazing mothers. My mom, my sisters, my sisters-in-law, and my very best friends are all shining examples of what I want to be as a mother. But that has the unfortunate side-effect of making me feel very, very small, and very, very inadequate. It doesn't help that I've never had good self-esteem, am extremely insecure, and it certainly doesn't help that I am a hormonal mess at the moment. But these are things I've thought and felt long before I began gestating Squishy, so please don't think I'm just being melodramatic. I'm not serious very often, but on this this is just me, and this is just what I'm feeling. So bare with me.

I knew that being a mother wouldn't be easy. I knew there'd be tantrums and meltdowns, and scrapes and bruises. I knew there'd be teething, and crying and pooping and teething. What I didn't count on was what being a mother would do to my heart. I just look at Emma, and my heart melts. On Saturday mornings, when Mike gets her out of bed, I will just lay there and listen to my two loves giggle and play, and my heart just swells with joy unlike anything I ever knew before. And when she falls, face-first into the coffee table, and I hear that scream, my heart stops. And today... when I felt like I couldn't do anything right, and that I was incapable of being what she needed me to be... when she cried out, "I want my daddy"... my heart broke.

I know I shouldn't take it so hard. I know, in the rational part (read: very small part) of my brain that she is 20 months old, and that she loves me, and that she needs me. But the look in her tear-filled eye today as she said just killed me. And my heart broke. And I broke down into tears, and sobbingly asked her, "Honey, I'm trying....what can mommy do for you?"

And she just looked at me. And we both just sat there for a good long while, crying.

And then she looked at me again. This time, it was a kind of look that said, "Oh come on, mom. I'm just testing you here. Get a grip!" And she walked over to her book case, scanned the titles, and very carefully pulled out, "I'll love you forever" and showed it to me.

Choking back the tears, I asked her what that book said.

"I luh you" she answered. "Read"

So I did. She came and sat down on my lap, and stayed there, as I sobbed my way through the entire book. It's kind of a long one, and she has never sat still long enough for me to read the whole thing to her. But today she did. She just leaned back in my lap, and nuzzled the back of her head into my neck. And she waited patiently for me, when I needed to pause to choke back the tears, wipe my nose, and stifle my sobs. And she let me rock her, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, as I read those lines. And when it was done, she very simply stood up, wrapped her arms around my head, said "Sarmum" (sorry mom), and kissed me on the forehead. And then I sobbed some more.

I just couldn't help but think that this was her way of saying that she'll love me forever, even when I'm crazy...even when I can't figure out what she wants, or what she needs. She'll love me because I'm her mom, and I think she knows that I am trying my very best to give her what she needs, and trying my very best to take care of her and to teach her, and to love her.

And that's my big revelation, I guess... that I'll never be just like the other mothers around me, because I am who am. No amount of wishing will change that, and I just have to know, that when I lay my head down at night, that I have done the very best I could do that day. And some days it will be ugly, and I will just need to survive. And some days it will be amazing, and I won't be able to believe my luck. But regardless of what kind of day it is, I need to remember to remember that I'll love her forever. And she'll love me back.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

29 weeks - a synopsis

So, I'm just about 29 1/2 weeks pregnant, now. Here's a synopsis of how it's been going...

1) I can't stop eating ice cream (you may also substitute brownies, cookies, whipped cream, popsicles, more ice cream, candy bars, caramels, any form of candy, and ice cream).

2) I've been wearing the same 2 or 3 outfits. For my first pregnancy, I had all of Anna and Sara's old maternity clothes. But then Anna got all preggo, so I had to mail the clothes back to her. I am being literal when I say that for Emma I bought exactly 2 shirts and 2 pairs of jeans. I've bought a few things to supplement my wardrobe so far, and Chrysta bought me two adorable dresses so I can look appropriate for church. But otherwise I just have NO desire to go clothes shopping. So I hang out in the house wearing mesh shorts and Mike's t-shirts, and I have a few key items to throw on when I leave the house. And I am sooooooooo ok with this.

3) I can't stop crying. Seriously. Over everything. Emma wouldn't eat the dinner I made tonight. SURPRISE SURPRISE. She never eats anything I make. But tonight, it sent me into full blown tears at the table. And then Emma started immitating me crying, and it was actually really funny. But anyway, yeah, everything makes me cry. Like, Taco Bell commercials. And when we run out of ice cream.

And that pretty much sums it up.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

When Emma picks her own outfit

Bird bought Emma this sweet, sweet Nike jacket, and now she refuses to take it off. I mean, LITERALLY refuses. She had a good 30 minute meltdown when I made her take it off when she wanted to go outside and play. I figured a meltdown would be better than heat stroke.

Friday, August 6, 2010


Ok, I'd like advice now, peoples.

A few months ago we were having terrible problems with Emma acting out and having tantrums. At the time, we tried doing timeouts in her bed, but that just led to problems when it was time for her to go to sleep. We then tried setting up a pack n' play for timeouts, but she learned how to climb out of it within a matter of about 15 seconds (this is a literal statement). Luckily, we were able to nip those behaviors in the bud, and she hasn't really had a need for timeouts lately.

Well... fast foreward, and Emma has been surrounded by boy cousins for the last month. During the course of play, she watched and then joined in on friendly wrestling/horseplay/hitting. And the hitting has carried over.


She doesn't hit angrily, or to cause harm, she always does it with a laugh, and I don't think she understands AT ALL that it can hurt. But it DOES hurt me, and I am trying to nip it in the bud before she starts hitting kids her age or younger, and hurts them.

Soooooo long story short. She was hitting the crap out of me today, and I'd warned her that if she did it one more time, she'd be having a time out in her bed.

So she hit me.

Then I carried her up to her bed.

She started crying right away, and by the time I was about 20 feet away from her (standing at the end of my bed, a walk that took about 10 seconds) I heard a horrible crash, and then screaming. I rushed into her room, and sure enough, she has figured out how to climb out of her crib. And she landed face first. There was blood pouring out of her mouth. It was on the carpet, all over her clothes, and then my clothes, all over her hands and arms, all over her face. It was the most horrible feeling I have ever had. I felt like the most evil, horrible mother ever. Even worse than the 40 minutes I was locked out of the house with her inside.

So I will NOT be using her bed as a time out area, nor the pack n' play.

But I'm left with the question of what to do! I need to be able to teach her that there are consequences, especially when she's hitting, but I just don't know how to do it!!!