Tag Archives: baby

Sleeping on the Floor Part 3

“Having children is like living in a frat house – nobody sleeps, everything’s broken, and there’s a lot of throwing up.”
― Ray Romano

Last night marked Day 5 with my comfy “bed on the floor” gig.

And boy oh boy, I’m feeling like I can move mountains!

I’m almost afraid to tell you for fear that if I let it out, the universe will turn against me.  But here goes.

EK slept through the night.  Almost.

I scooted my little bed cot over closer to the door and out of reach to begin the transition to move me out of her room.

She had a late evening nap, so she went to bed about 45 minutes later than usual.  After going through our bedtime routine, I placed her in her crib, she rolled right over and went straight to sleep.  She awoke twice for 5-10 seconds of whining then she was able to put herself back to sleep, and slept until 4:45 this morning.  After some milk at 4:45, she went right back to sleep and slept 3 more hours until 7:45!

Success my friends, success. In my book anyway.

Since I never intervened or helped her get back to sleep until 4:45, Mama here got some good sleep too! Yippee.

We’re also making progress with our naps and yesterday she slept an hour and 15 minutes by herself in her crib.  This is huge as usually her naps are 40 minutes long and willy-nilly.

We’re getting there friends.  We’re getting there.

 

The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones. –Confucius

 

 

 

8 months

Hey sweet Emma!

You’re a little doll, dear.  As beautiful as ever, and growing so big.

For a while now you’ve been belly crawling, but this month you decided to try out the old hand and knee crawl.  It’s still a bit clumsy, and you really only do it when you don’t have a shirt on.  I don’t think you like the feel of the hardwood on your belly.  But you still prefer the “wounded soldier” crawl and drag one leg behind you.  You’re pretty fast at it too!  You certainly don’t let many things stop you either, that’s why your daddy calls you his little 4 X 4.  It’s so fun watching you explore your new world, and learning to be so independent.

You are pulling yourself up now to every surface that you can reach.  The ottoman, the dining room chairs, the toy box, the drawers in the kitchen, and mostly my pant legs.  You are a brave little thing, taking one hand off while standing up.  You think you are much bigger than you really are.  But I love your confidence and hope you always keep it, with humility of course.

Although your only 8 months old, the tag in your clothes says 12 months!  Thankfully, you haven’t had to go to the doctor since your 6 month check-up, so we don’t know how much you “officially” weigh, but when we weigh you, our scales here say about 19 pounds.

You have 2 new teeth, but you are a nonconformist, and decided instead of getting your two upper teeth like you’re supposed to, you might as well be a vampire for Halloween, and have cut one fang, and are working on the other.

Have I ever told you how smart you are?  Your mind works constantly.  You are super observant, and want to know how things work, like your car seat buckle, which I’m afraid you are certainly going to figure out.  You are trying real hard to patty cake right now, and I know you understand everything I say.  You yourself are a jabber box too.  You have all kinds of new sounds, you can say bye-bye and are practicing wiggling your fingers.  You talk all the time and I wish I knew your language.

I am trying real hard to be the best mommy I can.  Sometimes it’s frustrating because I don’t have an instruction manual for you, and I’m not sure if I’m making the right decisions.  Please always know you are loved immeasurably, dear one and I’m always thinking of you.

I love you!

XOXO,

Mama

 

 

Feeding the Big Chickens

We recently had a family picnic at the park.  It was a beautiful September day and we were in the big city, so we decided to grab a couple burgers and enjoy them under the treetops.

The park has a big lake with walkers and joggers circling it.  A few fisherman had cast their poles into the water and were waiting patiently in their lawn chairs.  A sweet elderly couple sat at a picnic table, his arm draped around her shoulders, enjoying the day.

 

We sat right at that other picnic table fighting off the flies.  I watched  that little old couple and my thoughts turned romantic.  I smiled at the idea of  how sweet and long-lasting their love is.  Like something Nicholas Sparks would write.  And then as I eavesdropped a little more, I discovered that they weren’t an old married couple after all, but new companions.  He was telling her about the time when he was twelve and they visited Wisconsin.  He talked about the war.  She asked questions about his former marriage.  As we got up to leave, I snapped their picture, glad to know that new love exists.  That little white-haired couple lifted my spirits and reminded me that no matter how old you are, there is still time to make new friends.

We saved a little bit of our hamburger buns for the ducks.  Is it just me, or do you get a little wigged out when all the ducks start surrounding you, crowding into your space, honking and quacking?  I was attacked by a duck once, I guess you could call it that, and ever since that experience, I’ve been a little gun-shy.  Or duck-shy.

EK has a way of expressing her delight.  She OH’s.  When she sees that little black baby boy on the Pamper’s box, she says Oh, Oh, Oh, but drags it out.  She Oh’ed at the ducks and the swans.  I wonder what her little mind was thinking of those gigantic birds.  Maybe something along the lines of “Whoa man, that is one big chicken.”

She was just as curious as they were and when it mistook her bare toes for bread crumbs, she didn’t cry, she just Oh’ed at it.

When all our hamburger buns were either eaten or growing soggy in the water, we took a little stroll around the lake and enjoyed the moment with dreams of many more to come.

 

 

 

 

sleeping, eating, and other motherly woes

Of one thing I’m certain:  each day that I’m given is more proof of how little I know.

We’ve all been there, a time in our life when we thought we knew it all.  When we stuck our chest out and announced, if only to ourselves, “I got this.”

For me that was 7 months and 3 weeks ago.

 

Before her.

But now those days are over.  Although I’ve always felt like I relied on God, I can tell you that this day, today, without a doubt, I desperately need His grace, His direction, His wisdom, combined with His mercy and goodness and provision, tossed in with a good handful of His forgiveness and a shake or two of second chances.

Raising a child is hard. And I have a good one.  She’s not difficult, really.  Perhaps a touch stubborn and spirited.  She doesn’t sleep like other mother’s claim their babies sleep.  And she doesn’t eat like she’s supposed to.  She’s adventurous and bold, she’s determined and serious.   Sometimes she’s playful and occasionally you could even say she’s sweet.  Each day I ask God to help me and to forgive me.

If she has trouble sleeping, it’s because of me not her.  I have 0%consistency in my day.   Schedules are for trains.

If she has trouble eating, I’ll take the blame on that too, although she’s the one with her lips clamped together.

I’ve scoured the internet for help on every parenting subject that one could encounter with an almost 8 month old. (because the internet doesn’t lie)

*Breastfeeding
*co-sleeping
*baby wearing
*sign language
*pacifiers
*teething
*crawling
*separation anxiety
*night weaning
*sleep training

Plus lots more.
Through my hours upon hours of research, I’ve discovered there’s basically two camps of parenting.

1) “the force your baby to do what you want” camp

2) the “forget about your life, it’s officially over, make concessions for your baby’s needs” camp

I’m no longer looking for advice, I’ve received enough.  So really, you don’t need to give me any, but I will allow you to commiserate with me all you want!

I’m just writing to air my frustrations, state my opinions, and talk out loud.

Case in point.  Sleep trainers suggest that I put her in her crib for naps and at bedtime when she’s drowsy but still awake.  Not to rock her or nurse her, or give her any sleep crutches what so ever.  After placing her in the crib drowsy, but awake, she is supposed to put herself to sleep.  All on her own.  This has actually happened a time or two when she was smaller.  I can actually testify that when she’s in her appropriate window of sleepiness, as long as she’s not teething or gassy, when her diaper is dry, and her room is the correct temperature, as long as her nose isn’t stuffy or her socks aren’t too tight, and as long as the moon is in the second house, she will actually go to sleep.

But most of the time, when I put her in her crib, I get this.

Now, how can I tell her no and lay her back down, when for the last two weeks, I’ve been clapping and cheering every time she pulled herself up to standing?

Then she looks at me with this face of “aren’t you proud of me for pulling myself up, that’s a new trick you know mom.  When I’ve done it before you’ve danced a jig”, and yes baby I am so proud of you, and then she gives me the “aren’t you going to pick me up and hug me.  I’m whimpering over here?”

I’m at a crossroads.  If I pick her up, then she won’t understand she’s supposed to lay down.  And if I tell her,”no, lay down”, she won’t understand how proud I am of her for working so hard to stand up.  During this sort of dilemma, my maternal instinct usually wins.  The one that says love and comfort, hush her cries, make her feel safe and loved.  I know I’m reinforcing undesirable habits, but I can only pray that I’m building trust and reassuring her that she needn’t worry about her needs being met.

After giving this parenting gig a go for the last 8 months, I’ve come to some conclusions.

Of the little I know, this is what I know:

  •  All babies are unique.
  • I must figure what works best for my family.
  • If the situation isn’t a problem to the family, then the family shouldn’t let society (or the internet) convince them it’s a problem.
  • There’s really no right way to do this.
  • Most other mothers must be liars, wanting others to believe they have dream babies, or it’s been so long ago, they’ve forgotten.
  • I don’t have the answers and can only do my best.
  • I’m going to mess up everyday and I can only hope she doesn’t turn out to be Jeffrey Dahmerish.  Or worse.

 

God bless all mothers, everywhere!

 

Under the weather

It’s September 15th, or is it the 14th?  Regardless of the number on the calendar, it is my favorite time of year.  It’s a dreary, overcast day and my thoughts bounce around randomly, like an annoying fly trying to find a place to light, but never satisfied for long.

I’m feeling a tad under the weather, which seems fitting with the forecast.  I want to curl up in bed with a book and hide all day.  I would too, if I didn’t have a 7 month old competing for my attention.  She’s a bit under the weather too, and just wants to be held, but doesn’t want to sit still once I pick her up.  She’s obsessed with reaching and grabbing everything from the side table, attempting to climb on top of my head, or rubbing her face frantically in my chest, smearing snot all over my fourteen dollar sweatshirt.  Desperate for a reprieve to blow my nose,  I did the bad mom thing.  I turned on the TV.

As most of you probably know, we don’t have TV.  I can see you scratching your head now.  How can I turn it on, if we don’t have it you ask?  Well, we have an actual TV, but we have no cable, or satellite, or even rabbit ears.  We do own a DVD though, so I dug through stacks of exercise tapes, sneezing and coughing as the piles of dust billowed, and discovered a cartoon belonging to my niece.  Kung Fu Panda.

Since EK only gets TV time when we’re visiting someones house or when she’s watching Blazing Saddles with her dad, which is so appropriate I might add, I thought this was a win-win situation.

I imagined her in a TV daze while I vegged out in an antihistamine induced state of mind on the couch.

Turns out, she doesn’t care too much for pandas.  Or Kung Fu.  A matter of fact, I think I heard her say, “Pandas?  We don’t need no stinking pandas.”

I’m left with no other option but to sit here with EK on my head, watching a cartoon mouse with a Fu Man Chu do jujitsu, using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe my nose.  Good thing it only cost fourteen dollars.

 

 

The toughest job

When I was a teacher, just a few short months ago, I used to believe teaching was the hardest profession there was.  In fact, I’ve been known to tell people that very thing.

Now that I’m a stay-at-home-mom, I have changed my opinion and believe mommy hood is the hardest job there is.

More than likely if I was an artist, I’d think that was the hardest profession to be had.

The toughest job, I’ve discovered, is the one I’m presently working.

Suzanne gave me a devotional book for moms.  “A Time-Out for Busy Moms”.   I’m not sure if that really exists.  The book was in good condition when I first received it, but now the edges are ruffled and torn, tiny bite marks have dried the corners.  When I sit down to read it, EK is usually in her  favorite spot, my lap, and she would rather chew on it than let me read it.

She is a blessing and a challenge.  The simplest things are no longer simple.  Showers, toilet breaks, eating.  She has no regard for my basic needs.  She is an infant.  A selfish, needy, narcissistic little baby, just like every other baby that was ever invented.  She is at my feet when I fix a cup of coffee or when I wash the dishes.  If I walk away, she scuttles after me dragging her leg like a little hermit crab calling “mama, mama, mama”.  When she’s not at my feet or on my lap or in my arms, I must watch her like a hawk.  She’s exploring and discovering and learning things the hard way, like how a mousetrap feels on her little fingers.  All this, and we’re not even in the difficult age yet.  Give her enough time and she will be putting Cheerios in the toilet and displaying her artwork with permanent markers and nail polish on the dining room table.

To date, the biggest mess she’s managed is unloading about 15 wipies one by one, only after tasting each one first.

 

And yes, I took a picture.

I know other moms have this thing figured out.  They are doing a better job of it I know.  Their babies sleep through the night.  In their own beds to boot.  They eat their veggies and take a bottle so their mamas can leave them for more than three hours at a time.

I ain’t gonna lie, it’s a tough gig, and I’m doing the best I can.

Today she fell asleep in my lap and I was able to pick up my mommy devotional book.  We rocked while I read and it was one of the most peaceful and gratifying moments I could experience.  As I gazed down at her sleeping face, the corners of her mouth turned upwards and a small smile spread across her mouth. I imagined the angels were whispering in her ear.  I couldn’t help but smile too.

In the big scheme of things, this baby stage is such a short time in the span of her years.  Instead of wishing this and wishing that, I need to learn to appreciate every nuance and detail.   Before you know it we’ll be driving her to college.

I’m sure when I leave her in the dorm room, she won’t be the one crying then.

Howdy, friends.

Oh, hey there!

It’s me.  Don’t you recognize me?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I know, I know, I’ve been much too quiet lately.

Oh?  You don’t agree?  Has it been a nice break for you?

Well, not for me!  I’ve missed you all so.

Life is happening with this old gal, I tell ya.  First of all, my computer has been in the shop due to, uh, what is it called, oh yeah, accidental damage from handling.  Translation:  a cracked screen.  One day my camera rolled off the ottoman and landed on top of my closed laptop.  I gasped!  I quickly picked up my camera, inspected it once, maybe twice, found no damage, and silently told myself that was a close call.  Only to find the next day a nice shattered screen and a spider web of cracks on my laptop screen.  Fortunately my husband had the good foresight when he purchased the laptop for me in January to buy insurance.  I thought it would be a snappy ordeal, but was again dismayed to discover they had to ship off my laptop and it would take 2 weeks.  TWO WEEKS!  What can a girl do, but wait it out.

In the meantime I’ve been using my phone to stay connected, but blogging on my phone is just no fun, so I’ve just been waiting it out.

But now, we’re together again.  How sweet it is.

So since it’s been a while, I’d love to catch you up on what’s been going on with me, but alas, that would take all of 2 seconds.  Not much is going on here except I have a precious six month old.  I’m not sure if I’ve told you that before or not.  Would you like to see a picture?

I know you’ve seen her, but really she’s worth looking at again isn’t she?

You’re smiling aren’t you?  I knew it.

And do you love that little get up she’s got on?  Well, it’s your lucky day because I have quite a few of them.  Actually, I’ve started a little online business and named it after my sweet little inspiration Emma Kate.  You can find a sampling of our goodies on Facebook.  It’s right here at this address:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emma-Kates/408211979239943

Go ahead and hop on over there and like the page, I’d sure appreciate it.

Not too long ago I was reading some of my old blogs from way back and it just made me homesick for the way things used to be.  You remember, blogging almost everyday?  Attempting to post a blog everyday.  I truly love it.  It gets under my skin.  I need to write like dogs need shade on an August day.  It helps me with the ordinary day to day dealings.  I’m going to try to do better.

Also, I’m on a diet, but what else is new.

That’s about it for me.

What about you?

How’s life going?

 

6 months

Precious, darling Emma Kate,

Look at you grow, girl!  Mama doesn’t even know where to begin telling you about your very busy month. I have so much to say, so I guess instead of starting at the beginning, I’ll just start at the top.

Your hair. It has lightened up some, still brown,  and is thick on top and grows in a point like Dracula (just like my dream)but not a scary, blood thirsty Dracula, but rather a beautiful, bright-eyed smooch able baby girl Dracula.

Your teeth.  Yep, they’re there. Two shiny white pearls on bottom.  Finally.   You’ve been a dream teether, you haven’t fussed one bit, but we could feel these little suckers when you were four months old and have been waiting patiently.

With those new toofies you’ve tried some real food.

In your most humble opinion:

Rice cereal= bleck!

Peas= double bleck!

Strawberries= sour bleck! (unlike my dream)

The foods that have received an Emma stamp of approval are peaches, pears, avocado, and squash.  We’re trying to keep you away from sugar and junk food, but we did offer you a taste of frozen yogurt, but the cold surprised you so, I’m not sure which list it belongs on.

Your mouth.  It’s so sweet, and you have the best smiles to give. You are not much of a laugher, but full of grins.   You can make ma-ma, da-da, bye-bye sounds! And holy cow you are loud!  We tease you that you got that from your grandy.

Your butt.   You are sitting alone for really long periods of time, when just a couple weeks ago you were a weeble wobble on a round butt.   Now you’re an old pro.

Your Legs. They are fat!  But those thunder thighs aren’t slowing you down. You are moving and scooting! You use your elbows and one leg to pull and drag yourself around. But that left leg is like a dead man’s, just dragging around behind you.While I’ve  been typing, you have gone to the kitchen, gotten into the potatoes and onions, drug yourself  around to the fridge, then back to the potatoes.  Lazy is NOT your middle name.  You are simply amazing and are taking the world by storm.

Cankles? Yep, you got them.

Your toes.  Oh my goodness, I love to get those piggies because they taste so sweet.

That’s you from top to toes, baby girl.  You are our delight. It has been so much fun loving you the last six months. Gosh, you’ll never know how adored you are. I mean that. Completely, Totally, Altogether, Absolutely ADORED and LOVED from top to bottom.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, my dear one.  I love you!!

XOXO,

Mama

 

 

She Battles

Each day, right after her cup of coffee, she laces up her tennie runners as her dad used to call them, straps the baby in the stroller and begins her walk down a lonely dirt, country road.  Slow at first, building steam, gearing up.  Just barely after she starts, her mind tells her to quit.  Gives her the talk.  Lists the excuses. But she has no excuses.  Time is no excuse.  Ability is no excuse.  Rain or snow is no excuse.  So she perseveres.  Each day she goes a little farther.  Pushes herself a little harder.  Forces herself to make it just past the cotton field with the new plants pushing through, then a little farther to the windmill.  Finally to the red barn where she can turn around.

Most days she prays.  She prays for her loved ones, she thanks God for her family, her health, her many blessings.  She thinks, she sings, she talks to her baby who bounces along with her Clifford pacifier in her mouth, the breeze blowing her little crop of hair.

She’s in the midst of a battle.  An all out war against the baby weight.  A daily struggle.  She remembers her former self.   The younger her, before marriage and pregnancy transformed her into a jiggly blob.  She curses her body.  Its slowness, its sluggish metabolism, its saggy skin and weakness.  But with the next thought, she recognizes its magnificence.  Its ability to create life, to bring it forth, to nourish and sustain it.

She makes herself run now.  From telephone pole to telephone pole she runs.  The next telephone pole cheers her on.  Encourages her, reminds her that the next one is not too far off.  Until her mind once again tells her to quit, catch her breath.

She walks now.  Pushing her sleeping baby. Gasping for air.  She passes the stench of death.  Something lying in the bar ditch beneath the tall weeds.  She turns her head as the smell of rot burns into her nose.  She imagines it a mouse, a bird, a skunk.  Surely the worst is over.  “Decay faster you S.O.B.,” she mutters aloud.

Her body glistens with perspiration.  Her face is the color of beets.  Her shoulders tanned in the sun, the right one a shade darker than the left.  She turns into her drive, slowing to a snail’s pace.  At the front door, she lifts her dozing baby from the stroller and places her heavy head against her sweaty neck.  The air conditioning is a wonderful respite from the early morning heat.  Her eyes adjust to the darkness of the nursery as she places her in the crib to dream the sweet dreams of babies.

Her next battle is laundry.

 

 

 

 

 

Outside

Our baby girl loves it outside.

No matter the mercury reading, she hasn’t learned to complain about the heat yet.

 

We haven’t cut her hair to look like a mohawk on it’s way to growing out, it’s just the way her hair, well is growing out.  Possibly one of the reasons she’s mistaken for a boy frequently.

The chickens are as curious about her as she is of them.  But everyone’s on their best behavior so far.  No pecking or feather pulling have occurred.

I just love everything about her.  The birth mark on her forehead that reminds me of Australia, those lovely long eyelashes framing her deep brown eyes, the way she smells like “outside” after only a few minutes.  But heck, so do I.  Even the little skinned place beside her nose where her fingernails got her.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget  her two brand spanking new pearly whites.