In His Special Bed

My two and a half year old son Cavanaugh is asleep in my childhood room, the room I slept in throughout high school, weekends home from college, and which my mom still calls mine though I haven’t lived here in 21 years. Tonight is the second night my son has ever slept in a bed without me.

Last night, we were at my dad’s house. His guest bedroom has wood floors, rugs from Southwestern Rugs Depot, a high antique bed that’s set in the middle of the room so neither side is against a wall–and Cavanaugh rolls, turning himself into the horizontal bar of an H, flips upside down so his feet rest at the pillows. He’s a mover. At home, where we sleep on our king sized mattress bought from Sleepyhood.com, on the floor, this is not a problem. If he ever rolls over the pillow barricade around the edge of the mattress, and travels the eight inches from the mattress to the carpeted floor, he sleeps through it. His slumbers would be disturbed by a two+ foot tumble bumping over the jutting walnut frame to land on the cherry floor. Not even if I put a pad down. It is dangerous.

When we arrived at my dad’s last night, Cavanaugh was asleep. He hadn’t napped on the flights from Austin to Albuquerque. A visit to a friend, a trip back to the airport to trade out one rental car for another, then sloshing through a beautiful hard rain that pulled all the sage and dirt scent to welcome us into not-Texas weather sent our boy to the Land of Nod. I transferred Cavanaugh from the car seat and he slept through the cool air and the lie down. He slept on his own Murphy bed all night long, which he bought after scrolling through the reviews on the posh100 website. He always loved the concept of Murphy bed since I can remember cause it used to save a ton of space which he would then use for various other things.
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No “No”

While I was doing my grocery shopping the other day with Sweet Pea snuggled on my chest in the wrap, I passed another momma with a child who was probably about three.  When we first crossed paths, she was telling him, “No, you can’t have cookies.”  When he pushed the issue, she said, “There’s cookies at home!”  Our families ran into each other (once literally, since my cart had a broken wheel) about four times over the next hour as we stocked up on yummy things to eat.  Three out of those four times, she was telling her son “no” about something.

My intention isn’t to criticize her parenting, or the use of the word “no” in general.  She was using it to set boundaries, some of which were specifically to keep her son safe (“No, you can’t ride on the side of the cart.”).  It did reinforce for me, though, how important I think it is to not overuse the word “no.” Continue reading “No “No””

What on earth were we thinking? (Part 1 of series on preparing for baby #2)

Panic.

Complete panic.

It’s 3:00am. I’m 30 weeks pregnant. My 2 year old son wakes up again and wants Mommy. I nurse him back to sleep, get up to pee again (pregnant bladder) and try to find a comfortable position to sleep where my huge belly is neither making me uncomfortable nor in danger of being kicked by a restless toddler.

What on earth were we thinking?

What the hell am I going to do when a newborn and a toddler both have nighttime needs?

Were we wrong to want another baby when our boy was still so much a baby himself? Should we have listened to “mainstream” parenting advice and pushed him away, made him independent, toughened him up? Continue reading “What on earth were we thinking? (Part 1 of series on preparing for baby #2)”

7 Ways to Fill Our Mama Cups

My last API Speaks blog post, Running on Empty, about feeling mama burn out was hard to write. I felt ashamed. I felt like a failure. I felt worried that motherhood was going to turn out like so many other jobs I’ve had: fun and interesting at first, then drudgery. It took me two days to write the post because I kept editing my feelings. If I just cut the words, maybe I could delete the feelings too. I wrote while my toddler son napped in the next room. I kept walking in to look at him, so peaceful while he was sleeping. I kept willing him to sleep longer, give me more time. On the second day, right after I’d clicked the button to submit my post, he woke up sad. He clung to me and cried. Maybe he’d had a bad dream. Maybe he’d picked up on all of my conflicted feelings while he slept. I was sure that if he were old enough to read what I’d written, he would  feel betrayed. Maybe all of that was true, or maybe I was just finding one more way to not give myself a break.

I needed a vacation from my mama job, which wasn’t realistic. Getting a vacation from my state of mind, however, was absolutely possible. Just admitting to myself (and those who read the blog post) how burned out I was feeling helped. It helped me to understand what was contributing to my exhaustion. It helped me acknowledge my feelings and give myself some space to actually feel them. The comments on the post offered me some great suggestions to renew balance. I tried those and some more. And I’m really starting to feel good again, having fun with my son, being more creative about how to spend our time so our life together doesn’t feel like the movie Groundhog Day. Maybe some of what has worked with me will work for you. Continue reading “7 Ways to Fill Our Mama Cups”

Stepping Out

My 14 month old kicks her feet against the table and makes a deafening screech while reaching for her Daddy’s beverage at the restaurant. As he allows her to have a sip of his drink, I look around to see how many fellow diners are tsk tsking our choice to allow our baby to drink what they must think is SODA! I have the overwhelming urge to announce “It’s only unsweetened iced tea…really. She never has soda, I swear.” But that would not be entirely true and besides, now our five year old is loudly promising to eat the rest of her pasta and veggies after she eats all of the french fries…she promises. The floor is covered in the crushed remains of the fire roasted zucchini and rice pilaf dish we ordered for the baby…her grinning mouth is dripping and bubbling with ice tea, not one single piece of food has passed her lips. I eat my (now cold) food with one hand (not my dominant one) while liberally applying even more ketchup to my daughters fries. My husband is fishing ice out of his cup with a fork to entice the baby with since the tea is now gone and the she is gearing up for another screech fest. Did I mention that our teenager ordered nothing but appetizers and is sulking in the corner of the booth because I went ahead and surreptitiously ordered her a salad and had the gall to ask her to please put some green food in her body before loading it with junk? The single thought running through my head is: If they eat this junky stuff, then everyone in the restaurant will assume that they eat like this all of the time…and that I let them do it! Continue reading “Stepping Out”

Running on Empty

I want a vacation, even a long weekend, all by myself with no one else to clothe, no one to come to the bathroom with me or to ask to nurse in the middle of the flower store. Maybe it’s the developmentally appropriate but exhausting conflicts that come with having a 2 1/2 year old. Maybe it’s that the last three years have been hard ones full of lay-offs and other money concerns, health challenges and innumerable other setbacks that add up over time. I’m sure there’s not one cause.

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Who’s the Boss?

Like most people I know, I spent my adolescence longing for true independence. Though my parents certainly weren’t oppressive, I was always anxious to assume control of my own life. I wanted to decide for myself, everything from whether to become a vegetarian, to what I wanted to do with my Saturday afternoon or when I wanted to go to bed. Adulthood, even with all its responsibilities, was freedom; finally, I was my own boss. Eventually, I partnered with an amazing man, and together we took charge of our new life. Six years later, I gave birth to our baby girl . . . and was instantly demoted.

Meet the new boss. After only 21 months on the job, she’s shaken things up quite a bit at our place. So much for deciding for myself when I wanted to go to bed. These days, plans often don’t proceed – well, as I planned – because the youngest person in our family has different ideas. And more often than not, when such conflicts arise, we defer to our daughter. (Within reason and safety permitting, of course.)

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Beyond the Baby B’s: Attachment Through Play

Nothing was easier, more intuitive for me than the Baby Bs: breastfeeding, babywearing, bedding with baby, and so on.  Attachment parenting an infant was simple. Keep that child close, and all is well. But then what? When a child becomes mobile, become verbal, thing are suddenly so much more complicated. Sure, many of the principles of attachment parenting still apply, but they become a moving target…moving at the whirlwind speed of toddlers and preschoolers.

Research shows that I’m obviously not the only one that has struggled with this. Continue reading “Beyond the Baby B’s: Attachment Through Play”