Motherhood. The purest, rawest, most primal form of survival.
I hope some of you out there can sympathize with me.
This is more real than reality television. This is the ultimate episode of "Survivor". Except that you don't win a million dollars after a month, you can't chalk up your untidy home to "living in the wild" and you can't vote off your children when they drive you nuts.
And you do it all on three hours of sleep and with a smile.
Have any of you found that "survival" has meant that you do things you never dreamed of doing? We all had beautiful ideals of surviving gourmet organic homemade foods at every meal. Reality check - your two year old would eat an entire box of Kraft Dinner, if you let him. We all love the idea of rising before our kids wake, so that we've showered, dressed, enjoyed breakfast, and prayed for strength and guidance throughout the day before they get up. Cold , hard truth - how many pajama days have you had this month? I lost track, but Colin is starting to think his Lightning McQueen pajamas are just fine to wear to the store - and so am I! And all of us have vacuumed today, dusted this week, and have no dirty dishes in the sink. Yeah right - I just pulled a dirty diaper out from under the hope chest - and I don't know when or how it got there. But it might be the answer to that stale smell...
Okay, fellow mothers. You may not be guilty of the same survivor techniques that I am - but I'm sure you've all got enough tales to tell to write at least a novella, if not a full-blown novel. My motherhood war stories would rival Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. All I can say is: let's be sure to band together and realize that the only way we'll keep our sanity (if you haven't lost it already!) is if we throw off the shackles of appearances and realize that we're mothers now. Embrace the toy cars underfoot, the juice spills on the floor, and the fact that your nice sweaters are either going to be stained from spit-up or remain hidden in the closet forever. We are mothers! We are a force to be reckoned with, whether we make it out of our sweats and pony-tails or not.
I will survive!
PS: Honey, we're having Kraft Dinner tonight.
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Matta Guitar
Colin's bedtime routine consists of reading books, spelling a few words on his alphabet mat, goodnight prayer, and then singing a few songs. We have sung everything from children's songs to Broadway tunes to church hymns to traditional lullabies to classical pieces - ensuring that Colin's music repertoire is vast and varied. Every few weeks he takes to a new favourite song that he requests faithfully each night.
About a month ago, he asked for "Matta Guitar". Having no idea which song he was referencing, I asked him to sing it for me. Without hesitation, he began a very definite melody, singing the words "matta guitar" over and over again. I was completely lost. I racked my brain for what song this could possibly be, and came up empty. Colin, however, knew exactly what it was.
After three nights of him asking for "Matta Guitar", I finally took things into my own hands. Following his lead, I began improvising a melody to the words of "Matta Guitar". It was an instant hit. Since then, every night he asks (and receives) a different rendition of the new classic. What is most amazing is that he sings along. Yup - I'm completely making up the tune on the spot, and yet he is able to anticipate where the melody is going.
He is really stretching my abilities as a musician - in a good way. Last night he asked for a song about "Lightning McQueen" (a character from a favourite film), and then he requested a Bach and a Beethoven piece! I think I might have the most cultured two-year old on the planet!
About a month ago, he asked for "Matta Guitar". Having no idea which song he was referencing, I asked him to sing it for me. Without hesitation, he began a very definite melody, singing the words "matta guitar" over and over again. I was completely lost. I racked my brain for what song this could possibly be, and came up empty. Colin, however, knew exactly what it was.
After three nights of him asking for "Matta Guitar", I finally took things into my own hands. Following his lead, I began improvising a melody to the words of "Matta Guitar". It was an instant hit. Since then, every night he asks (and receives) a different rendition of the new classic. What is most amazing is that he sings along. Yup - I'm completely making up the tune on the spot, and yet he is able to anticipate where the melody is going.
He is really stretching my abilities as a musician - in a good way. Last night he asked for a song about "Lightning McQueen" (a character from a favourite film), and then he requested a Bach and a Beethoven piece! I think I might have the most cultured two-year old on the planet!
Friday, 7 March 2008
Sleep Training
Well, today we begin our wonderful journey into sleep training. This is a concept totally new to me, as Colin would fall asleep anywhere, anytime. Caleb, on the other hand, sleeps only 6 hours every 24 hours. And most of that is in half our catnaps.
We had his 4 month doctor's appointment today. I went in with a list James and I created of all Caleb's symptoms and problems - sleeping, eating, throwing up, and generally on edge all day. As it turns out, the doctor said the entire list can be attributed to not enough sleep! Apparently, he should be sleeping 14 hours every 24! No wonder he (and I) is exhausted!
Our doctor just returned from maternity leave, and had the exact same issues with her baby, so her advice was coming from a very personal experience. She walked me through what needs to be done, with the hope that in less than a week everything should be worked out. Poor Colin might also suffer, though, as we'll need to let Caleb fuss himself back to sleep during the night. Well, at this point I'm ready to try anything!
(Right now Caleb is screaming the house down. He woke up from his nap and is very obviously still exhausted. I rocked him back to sleep three times, which only lasted 5 minutes each time. So this time I'm going to wait it out a little bit).
This is new for me. I'm not normally of the "cry it out" parenting, but as nothing else seems to be working, I'm hoping this will. The few moments a week when Caleb is in a good mood, he's the happiest guy on the planet. He loves to laugh, and has a huge, great, big smile that twinkles in his cheeks and eyes. Once he starts to get enough sleep, this side of Caleb should emerge as his permanent character. Come on, bright and happy Caleb...I know you're in there!
We had his 4 month doctor's appointment today. I went in with a list James and I created of all Caleb's symptoms and problems - sleeping, eating, throwing up, and generally on edge all day. As it turns out, the doctor said the entire list can be attributed to not enough sleep! Apparently, he should be sleeping 14 hours every 24! No wonder he (and I) is exhausted!
Our doctor just returned from maternity leave, and had the exact same issues with her baby, so her advice was coming from a very personal experience. She walked me through what needs to be done, with the hope that in less than a week everything should be worked out. Poor Colin might also suffer, though, as we'll need to let Caleb fuss himself back to sleep during the night. Well, at this point I'm ready to try anything!
(Right now Caleb is screaming the house down. He woke up from his nap and is very obviously still exhausted. I rocked him back to sleep three times, which only lasted 5 minutes each time. So this time I'm going to wait it out a little bit).
This is new for me. I'm not normally of the "cry it out" parenting, but as nothing else seems to be working, I'm hoping this will. The few moments a week when Caleb is in a good mood, he's the happiest guy on the planet. He loves to laugh, and has a huge, great, big smile that twinkles in his cheeks and eyes. Once he starts to get enough sleep, this side of Caleb should emerge as his permanent character. Come on, bright and happy Caleb...I know you're in there!
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Reminiscing
I have the best husband in the world. (I know you girls out there reading this all think that you have the best husband, and I'm sorry to burst your bubble.) We were reminiscing about one of our favourite funny moments (there are many!) in our past.
When I was pregnant with Colin, I went on a health food kick. I ate three toasted veggie sandwiches a day, and filled the rest of my diet with fruit. I was turned off of junk food altogether. And I don't think I ever had a "can you run to the store and pick up an ice cream sundae with chocolate fudge and a jar of pickles?" I was fairly self sufficient.
But one day I was feeling particularly lousy and so I called into the kitchen where James was getting himself a glass of water:
"Honey? Could your bring me some grapes when you come?"
"No problem" came the quick reply.
I sat up to eat. I waited. I waited and waited, and then waited a little longer. Feeling dizzy, I lied back down. And waited. (Well, you get the picture). Finally after about 10 minutes, I called back into the kitchen:
"Honey? Do you have my grapes?"
Silence. Then I see James' head peek into the living room.
"I'm almost done."
"Almost done? My grapes?"
"Grapes? I thought you said crepes!"
Yes, knowing my love for all things French, my incredible husband had thought I asked for crepes, and had dug out a cookbook, found a recipe, and was hard at work creating a meal of amazing crepes for his pregnant wife!
Yup - I have the best husband in the world.
When I was pregnant with Colin, I went on a health food kick. I ate three toasted veggie sandwiches a day, and filled the rest of my diet with fruit. I was turned off of junk food altogether. And I don't think I ever had a "can you run to the store and pick up an ice cream sundae with chocolate fudge and a jar of pickles?" I was fairly self sufficient.
But one day I was feeling particularly lousy and so I called into the kitchen where James was getting himself a glass of water:
"Honey? Could your bring me some grapes when you come?"
"No problem" came the quick reply.
I sat up to eat. I waited. I waited and waited, and then waited a little longer. Feeling dizzy, I lied back down. And waited. (Well, you get the picture). Finally after about 10 minutes, I called back into the kitchen:
"Honey? Do you have my grapes?"
Silence. Then I see James' head peek into the living room.
"I'm almost done."
"Almost done? My grapes?"
"Grapes? I thought you said crepes!"
Yes, knowing my love for all things French, my incredible husband had thought I asked for crepes, and had dug out a cookbook, found a recipe, and was hard at work creating a meal of amazing crepes for his pregnant wife!
Yup - I have the best husband in the world.
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
Colin's surgery
This very early morning (5:30am) the four of us woke and battled through the snow up to the hospital in nearby Alliston to have day surgery done for Colin. Since birth his tear ducts have been blocked - which means his eyes get gummed up with mucus a lot. Sometimes it is to the point that he wakes in the morning with his eyes glued shut and we need to wipe them with hot water so he can open them. The doctor had hoped it would naturally correct itself, as it does in most cases. However, by the age of two it is very unlikely that it will improve further, and so we were sent for this surgery.
Because a patient having general anesthesia cannot eat or drink for 12 hours before, children are usually booked early in the morning. So after checking the weather and road conditions (snowy, but not icy) and shoveling out for half an hour, we loaded a sleepy, pajama-clad Colin and sleepy Caleb into the car and headed out.
We arrived before the main doors were even open, and silently thanked whoever put a tv in the patient waiting room. After convincing Colin at home about how fun it would be to get to wear his pajamas out, I had a hard time getting him into the hospital gown. He looked so tiny in that blue and white stripped covering as he paced around in his socked feet.
Colin was completely enthralled with all the "beeping" machines that took his weight, temperature and blood pressure. Each stage of the whole event we turned into a type of game, trying to entice him into the necessary steps for him to take. Generally, I had to go first, to show what was going to happen, and then he very trustingly would follow after.
When they finally called him, James took him halfway down the hall, where they whisked him away without any ceremony or goodbyes - probably for the best. And then the waiting game began. I had brought a few things to occupy myself with, but let me assure you, one has very little focus while your son is in surgery.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than one, the nurse came to get me to be there when Colin awakes. "They can be a little unsure when they wake up," she said. 'A little unsure' was a complete understatement! I got halfway down the hall and I could hear hi screaming the hospital down! When I entered the recovery room a nurse was trying to hold him in her arms has he wiggled and squirmed and screamed. Colin hates to be restrained against his will, and his will usually is not to be held. As he was only just waking, though, he couldn't stand on his own, and so had to be held. He was transfered to my arms, and I spent the next 15 minutes trying in vain to get him to settle. We were then moved to the group recovery, where he continued to be nearly unmanageable. (I felt bad for the other patients waking to that kind of noise!) The nurse reminded me that part of the surgery involves spraying salt water in his nose, and explained that it feels much like when you're in the ocean and a huge wave gets water up your nose. So I understood his discomfort a little better. After another 15 minutes, I remembered I had, with my keen mother's sense of what's good for us, packed our new portable DVD player. Colin let his protests be known, but I put on a movie anyway and just let it play. Although he didn't completely settle for another half hour, he at least stopped kicking and screaming, and simply held onto my neck tightly as he watched. Once he stopped crying, he firmly announced "Want something to eat!" (That is apparently much like my grandfather (Poppy), who would ask for a steak sandwich after his surgery!) He had no interest in trying a popsicle, but gobbled up a blueberry muffin.
The surgery was partly successful. One eye was completely cleared, while the other only partially. The surgeon has instructed us to see how that eye goes over the next three months, after which we can decide if they should try the same procedure again, or if something a little more invasive is needed. Then he instructed us about the eye drops Colin needs in each eye, 4 times a day for the next ten days! (Clearly the surgeon hadn't seen/heard Colin's fit post-surgery! I don't think he'll ever let us near his eyes again!) Colin's eyes and cheeks were a little puffy, and there was a few tiny drops of blood, but other than that he recovered completely within that hour following the surgery. He was coaxed into his boots and coat on promise of a visit to the Playplace at our local McDonalds, and a hamburger and french fries for lunch.
On returning home, he was treated to a new gift James and I picked up for him - a brand new train set! His previous one has been broken for a few weeks, and the track was being held together by superglue, and so we thought this would be an appropriate time to buy a new one. His little green eyes lit up and that grin stole slowly across his face when he came upon it all set up in his play room. Priceless, pure joy.
Well, we're all glad the ordeal is over. We'll be praying hard that his second eye clears up on its own - I doubt we'll ever be able to convince Colin to set foot back in the hospital for a long, long time!
Thank you to all who have been thinking of Colin and keeping him in your prayers throughout this event. We certainly have felt of your love and concern for him and us. You may never know just how much your support has meant to us during this time. We are blessed to have so many friends.
Because a patient having general anesthesia cannot eat or drink for 12 hours before, children are usually booked early in the morning. So after checking the weather and road conditions (snowy, but not icy) and shoveling out for half an hour, we loaded a sleepy, pajama-clad Colin and sleepy Caleb into the car and headed out.
We arrived before the main doors were even open, and silently thanked whoever put a tv in the patient waiting room. After convincing Colin at home about how fun it would be to get to wear his pajamas out, I had a hard time getting him into the hospital gown. He looked so tiny in that blue and white stripped covering as he paced around in his socked feet.
Colin was completely enthralled with all the "beeping" machines that took his weight, temperature and blood pressure. Each stage of the whole event we turned into a type of game, trying to entice him into the necessary steps for him to take. Generally, I had to go first, to show what was going to happen, and then he very trustingly would follow after.
When they finally called him, James took him halfway down the hall, where they whisked him away without any ceremony or goodbyes - probably for the best. And then the waiting game began. I had brought a few things to occupy myself with, but let me assure you, one has very little focus while your son is in surgery.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than one, the nurse came to get me to be there when Colin awakes. "They can be a little unsure when they wake up," she said. 'A little unsure' was a complete understatement! I got halfway down the hall and I could hear hi screaming the hospital down! When I entered the recovery room a nurse was trying to hold him in her arms has he wiggled and squirmed and screamed. Colin hates to be restrained against his will, and his will usually is not to be held. As he was only just waking, though, he couldn't stand on his own, and so had to be held. He was transfered to my arms, and I spent the next 15 minutes trying in vain to get him to settle. We were then moved to the group recovery, where he continued to be nearly unmanageable. (I felt bad for the other patients waking to that kind of noise!) The nurse reminded me that part of the surgery involves spraying salt water in his nose, and explained that it feels much like when you're in the ocean and a huge wave gets water up your nose. So I understood his discomfort a little better. After another 15 minutes, I remembered I had, with my keen mother's sense of what's good for us, packed our new portable DVD player. Colin let his protests be known, but I put on a movie anyway and just let it play. Although he didn't completely settle for another half hour, he at least stopped kicking and screaming, and simply held onto my neck tightly as he watched. Once he stopped crying, he firmly announced "Want something to eat!" (That is apparently much like my grandfather (Poppy), who would ask for a steak sandwich after his surgery!) He had no interest in trying a popsicle, but gobbled up a blueberry muffin.
The surgery was partly successful. One eye was completely cleared, while the other only partially. The surgeon has instructed us to see how that eye goes over the next three months, after which we can decide if they should try the same procedure again, or if something a little more invasive is needed. Then he instructed us about the eye drops Colin needs in each eye, 4 times a day for the next ten days! (Clearly the surgeon hadn't seen/heard Colin's fit post-surgery! I don't think he'll ever let us near his eyes again!) Colin's eyes and cheeks were a little puffy, and there was a few tiny drops of blood, but other than that he recovered completely within that hour following the surgery. He was coaxed into his boots and coat on promise of a visit to the Playplace at our local McDonalds, and a hamburger and french fries for lunch.
On returning home, he was treated to a new gift James and I picked up for him - a brand new train set! His previous one has been broken for a few weeks, and the track was being held together by superglue, and so we thought this would be an appropriate time to buy a new one. His little green eyes lit up and that grin stole slowly across his face when he came upon it all set up in his play room. Priceless, pure joy.
Well, we're all glad the ordeal is over. We'll be praying hard that his second eye clears up on its own - I doubt we'll ever be able to convince Colin to set foot back in the hospital for a long, long time!
Thank you to all who have been thinking of Colin and keeping him in your prayers throughout this event. We certainly have felt of your love and concern for him and us. You may never know just how much your support has meant to us during this time. We are blessed to have so many friends.
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
How Far They Come
This week, Colin has started to speak in full sentences, putting two thoughts together:
"Colin touch Cleo's (the cat) fingers, and Cleo hurt Colin."
"Thank you very much for changing diaper."
"Colin and Daddy went for walk, and saw the cars come in the gate."
I still marvel at how language comes to us. I think of how hard it is to learn a new language as an adult, considering all the aspects one needs to remember. Then I watch as Colin comes leaps and bounds each day as he masters new concepts. And to think that at 18 months, he only had two words: Mommy and Daddy.
Also, has anyone ever realized how difficult pronouns are? This is our latest challenge. Colin, hearing me use the word "you" in reference to himself, constantly uses it in sentences. For example: "Mommy pick you up?", when he wants me to pick him up. How do you explain that where I say "you", he says "I", and where I use "I", he needs to use "you"? Let's not even get into his and hers, although he does understand that sometimes he can call Mommy's things "hers". I try different tactics each day to help him understand the proper use of these grammatical aspects of language, remembering that in time he'll catch on - we all do.
"Colin touch Cleo's (the cat) fingers, and Cleo hurt Colin."
"Thank you very much for changing diaper."
"Colin and Daddy went for walk, and saw the cars come in the gate."
I still marvel at how language comes to us. I think of how hard it is to learn a new language as an adult, considering all the aspects one needs to remember. Then I watch as Colin comes leaps and bounds each day as he masters new concepts. And to think that at 18 months, he only had two words: Mommy and Daddy.
Also, has anyone ever realized how difficult pronouns are? This is our latest challenge. Colin, hearing me use the word "you" in reference to himself, constantly uses it in sentences. For example: "Mommy pick you up?", when he wants me to pick him up. How do you explain that where I say "you", he says "I", and where I use "I", he needs to use "you"? Let's not even get into his and hers, although he does understand that sometimes he can call Mommy's things "hers". I try different tactics each day to help him understand the proper use of these grammatical aspects of language, remembering that in time he'll catch on - we all do.
Unplugged
Has anyone else loved the television writer's strike as much as me? I've never considered myself a tv junkie - I can only think of a handful of show I regularly tuned into over the years. But until this strike happened and the only thing on was repeats or reality shows (how I abhor how the industry exploits people in this way - and how people exploit themselves!) I didn't realize how often I flip on the big black box "just to see what's on" or "to relax".
For the first week or two, I would turn it on out of habit. It only took about 10 seconds for me to see that there was nothing I wanted to watch (we only get 3 channels - in good weather!) After breaking the initial reactive habit, I found myself picking up my book, Soduko puzzle, writing, or getting to some neglected tidying/cleaning.
Now that the writers are back to work and new episodes will soon be airing, I'm doing my best to keep myself out of the loop. I've enjoyed the freedom from television. Somehow I have gotten myself tied to the tv over the years, rushing home to catch a program, or cursing the VCR for not working again. So I'm not finding out when the shows start up again...I'll live in my fantasy world of repeats and reality as long as I can!
For the first week or two, I would turn it on out of habit. It only took about 10 seconds for me to see that there was nothing I wanted to watch (we only get 3 channels - in good weather!) After breaking the initial reactive habit, I found myself picking up my book, Soduko puzzle, writing, or getting to some neglected tidying/cleaning.
Now that the writers are back to work and new episodes will soon be airing, I'm doing my best to keep myself out of the loop. I've enjoyed the freedom from television. Somehow I have gotten myself tied to the tv over the years, rushing home to catch a program, or cursing the VCR for not working again. So I'm not finding out when the shows start up again...I'll live in my fantasy world of repeats and reality as long as I can!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)