When I had Lyla, I was your typical, paranoid, over protective first-time parent. I read countless books, reached out to other mothers for advice and reassurance, spent hours making my own baby food, and only let her play with organic, early development approved toys. It was months before she was babysat - by family friends. I rarely took her places because I was embarrassed about public breast feeding and worried about disrupting meltdowns. At home, she never cried for more than a few seconds before I rushed to soothe her. On rough nights she slept in bed with me, and was never - ever allowed her pacifier if she wasn't sleeping. Fast forward 3 years, add baby #2 to the mix, an you've got an experienced, more laid back mother who has comfortably settled into the "2nd child syndrome".
I knew the 2nd time around would be somewhat easier since I HAD "been there, done that" - but I never knew how much of a paranoid fool I'd look like looking back.
On the day Eric returned to work after to time he took off for Hannah's arrival, I packed up both kids, diapers, my nursing shawl, snacks, toys, and was out the door to the library for Lyla's favorite Tuesday ritual: Story Time. 3 years before, if you had told me to take my squishy, fresh newborn to a LIBRARY - you know, that place that is known for peace and quiet - I would have laughed right in your face. But, that was my problem: I got too comfortable staying home with Lyla, so when it came time to go do anything, I hesitated. Not this time around. There was no time for that. I had a toddler with a weekly schedule that she loved, and a newborn who was extremely portable. And thank goodness I was brave enough to do so, because after attending that first story time, I realized how manageable it was. We went every week from that day on, and even added in Friday morning gymnastics. I felt like super mom, chasing my toddler around the squishy play mats while cradling my newborn on the book of my arm.
I got this.
She was babysat by my amazing mother-in-law at just shy of 2 months so we could celebrate our first anniversary. She is allowed her pacifier (in a pinch) when its not nap time. On even the worst of nights she is laid back in her crib after a quick snack and kiss. And yes, there are times where she cries for more than a few seconds before I fly to the rescue. Patenting, from baby 1 to baby 2, has been like night and day.
Things became even easier when I learned I let go of all my first-time-mom paranoia; something I had to do to accommodate two children. Oh, those obnoxiously loud pots, pans and spoons are keeping Hannah busy while I finish cooking dinner? No problem. Oh, jarred baby food is more expensive but much easier? Okay fine. My baby is hungry and we're at the mall in the middle of a busy weekend afternoon? Out comes the boob (under a shawl at my husbands request, of course ;] ). Funny how things that may have seemed like the end of the world 3 years ago (Lyla watched HOW many movies while she was babysat!!?) - are brushed off so easily now. (More like thank goodness we have babysitting options!!)
On the other hand, there are a few things I am worse about with Hannah than I was with Lyla. For instance, Lyla had tasted cake and ice cream well before her first birthday, but with Hannah I refuse; this MUST be something she experiences for the first time ON her first birthday. I even hesitated giving Hannah her first solids, because there is something so pure about being exclusively breastfed, where with Lyla I could barely wait the suggested 4months to get that first picture of an applesauce dribbled chin.
Since Eric and I have true feelings of being "done", making Hannah the last baby, I feel like I cannot slow things down enough. With Lyla, I was eager for her to reach each and every milestone, and even did all I could for her to reach them early. With Hannah, anytime she started to crawl I would tackle her into a tickle fight. "Too soon, not ready" I'd think - Talking about myself and not her, of course.
With her first birthday quickly approaching, all I know is that this year with Miss Hannah went by way too fast, but also that it was (for the most part) easier than I thought. So I didn't make everything she ate, and she played with snack containers and boxes instead of organic wooden toys. She is one happy baby. BABY! A term I can only refer to her as for 2 more tiny months before she graduates to "toddler".
Thank goodness for 2nd child syndrome, and the ease that comes with the comfort I now have in myself as a parent. I know I sound crazy for saying this, but most days, I find that 2 has been easier than 1.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
When Hard Work Pays Off
Parenting is hard work. Plain and simple. What makes it worth it are those little moments when you witness your hard work paying off.
Often times when we have play dates and I hear Lyla make comments like "mommy, she's not being a good listener" or "she'll get a belly ache if she eats that much sugar", I feel like I tend do go a little overboard in the "strict parenting" department. However, when I see her willingness to share toys, problem solve, and use good manners - those are the little reassuring moments that whisper "yes! You're doing a good job at this mommy thing!" One of these moments occurred yesterday, and it may have been the most proud I have been of my big girl thus far.
Once Hannah was old enough to sit up and play with toys, Lyla quickly learned that her favorite playthings would need to be guarded if she wanted them to remain spit up and booger free. She accomplished this by hoarding every toy set out on the floor for play up onto the couch out of her baby sister's reach. At first, I fought fire with fire and demanded she put every single toy back into the floor. "If you want Hannah to share her toys with you, you need to teach her how by sharing your toys with her" I preached. So, we agreed that it was okay for Lyla to have her "special choices" that could be sister-free, and everything else was to be shared. This worked until the "I want nothing to do with that toy until Hannah plays with it, then I take it from her" phase began. To which I responded with "if you want something Hannah is playing with, wait until she's done, or try trading her for another toy instead". These are lines and phrases that are on repeat like a broken record day in and day out. It's exhausting; that is, until you see it pay off.
Yesterday while visiting with the girls' Aunt and baby cousin who is just a few moths older than Hannah, the babies went back and forth taking toys from each other per usual. Lyla played the big sister/cousin roll by making sure each toy got returned to its "proper owner" - sounds cute and helpful until you have 2 babies who were perfectly content with a toy swap until Lyla comes in and snatches them both away and forces a trade-back. Lyla finally let the babies be, until Hannah got a hold of one of Lyla's "special choices": a big plastic Easter egg. Eric's Grammy, who we were also visiting with, kindly found a spare Easter egg to trade Hannah with, and all was well again - until their baby cousin decided he wanted an Easter egg, too. After watching the babies pass it back and forth for a few whiney moments, Lyla shyly comes up to me. She puts her hands on my lap so we are face-to-face - secret sharing position commence. "Mommy, I think I'm going to let the baby play with my Easter egg. That way, he can have one and Hannah can have one and they will both be happy!"
GUSH. Gush gush gush.
She said this in the sweetest, most caring tone of voice I have ever heard. And what made it all worth while was seeing her joy and satisfaction for problem solving, being helpful, and selfless. For the rest of the day, I couldn't tell her how proud I was of her enough, and how happy that made mommy.
We all want to raise children who are thankful for every gift received, even if they secretly hate it. Who will share a snack with a friend who doesn't have one. Who shares all their toys and say "please" and "thank you" at the start and end of every sentence. Lets be real, this does NOT happen. So in these tiny moments where you see the light between the freshness an temper tantrums...it's an absolute joy, and yes - I'll say it - a pat on the back for good ol' mom.
I don't know if it's my "focus on the positive" mindset lately, or if Lyla has actually been particularly well behaved, but I have been so unbelievably proud of her lately. She really is such an amazing, smart, funny, energetic little girl. She's a great big sister, caring friend and loving daughter. I feel lucky each day for the girl she is growing to be.
To end our fabulous day, when I was tucking her into bed, she began to tell me what she was going to dream about that night - our little nightly ritual to fall asleep with good thoughts. After listing all her favorite stuffed animals and princess accessories, she adds "and you know what else I'm going to dream about? I'm going to dream about sharing my special Easter egg with the babies, because t made you so happy"
I.freaking.love.this.child.
<3333
Often times when we have play dates and I hear Lyla make comments like "mommy, she's not being a good listener" or "she'll get a belly ache if she eats that much sugar", I feel like I tend do go a little overboard in the "strict parenting" department. However, when I see her willingness to share toys, problem solve, and use good manners - those are the little reassuring moments that whisper "yes! You're doing a good job at this mommy thing!" One of these moments occurred yesterday, and it may have been the most proud I have been of my big girl thus far.
Once Hannah was old enough to sit up and play with toys, Lyla quickly learned that her favorite playthings would need to be guarded if she wanted them to remain spit up and booger free. She accomplished this by hoarding every toy set out on the floor for play up onto the couch out of her baby sister's reach. At first, I fought fire with fire and demanded she put every single toy back into the floor. "If you want Hannah to share her toys with you, you need to teach her how by sharing your toys with her" I preached. So, we agreed that it was okay for Lyla to have her "special choices" that could be sister-free, and everything else was to be shared. This worked until the "I want nothing to do with that toy until Hannah plays with it, then I take it from her" phase began. To which I responded with "if you want something Hannah is playing with, wait until she's done, or try trading her for another toy instead". These are lines and phrases that are on repeat like a broken record day in and day out. It's exhausting; that is, until you see it pay off.
Yesterday while visiting with the girls' Aunt and baby cousin who is just a few moths older than Hannah, the babies went back and forth taking toys from each other per usual. Lyla played the big sister/cousin roll by making sure each toy got returned to its "proper owner" - sounds cute and helpful until you have 2 babies who were perfectly content with a toy swap until Lyla comes in and snatches them both away and forces a trade-back. Lyla finally let the babies be, until Hannah got a hold of one of Lyla's "special choices": a big plastic Easter egg. Eric's Grammy, who we were also visiting with, kindly found a spare Easter egg to trade Hannah with, and all was well again - until their baby cousin decided he wanted an Easter egg, too. After watching the babies pass it back and forth for a few whiney moments, Lyla shyly comes up to me. She puts her hands on my lap so we are face-to-face - secret sharing position commence. "Mommy, I think I'm going to let the baby play with my Easter egg. That way, he can have one and Hannah can have one and they will both be happy!"
GUSH. Gush gush gush.
She said this in the sweetest, most caring tone of voice I have ever heard. And what made it all worth while was seeing her joy and satisfaction for problem solving, being helpful, and selfless. For the rest of the day, I couldn't tell her how proud I was of her enough, and how happy that made mommy.
We all want to raise children who are thankful for every gift received, even if they secretly hate it. Who will share a snack with a friend who doesn't have one. Who shares all their toys and say "please" and "thank you" at the start and end of every sentence. Lets be real, this does NOT happen. So in these tiny moments where you see the light between the freshness an temper tantrums...it's an absolute joy, and yes - I'll say it - a pat on the back for good ol' mom.
I don't know if it's my "focus on the positive" mindset lately, or if Lyla has actually been particularly well behaved, but I have been so unbelievably proud of her lately. She really is such an amazing, smart, funny, energetic little girl. She's a great big sister, caring friend and loving daughter. I feel lucky each day for the girl she is growing to be.
To end our fabulous day, when I was tucking her into bed, she began to tell me what she was going to dream about that night - our little nightly ritual to fall asleep with good thoughts. After listing all her favorite stuffed animals and princess accessories, she adds "and you know what else I'm going to dream about? I'm going to dream about sharing my special Easter egg with the babies, because t made you so happy"
I.freaking.love.this.child.
<3333
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Mindful Parenting
Mindfulness. It's about being present, focusing on the positive, and being in control of your emotions. A place where you can forget the past and be worry-free about the future. As hard as I try, this just simply isn't always the way the day goes.
I get up early to try and capture the one hour of hot coffee and breakfast I enjoy to myself while the house is still dark and quiet. Just as I sit down, delicious almond milk-dashed coffee warming my hands, there goes little Hannah over the monitor. By the time she's either nursed and back to sleep, or changed and happily playing - coffee's cold. I opt for the quick bowl of cereal instead of veggie egg-white omelette I had planned. Once Hannah sees mommy eating, she wants breakfast too. I wolf down my cereal and take sips of cold coffee between feeding Hannah bites of yogurt. I'm frustrated that my morning is not going as planned, but am trying to keep a positive mind. "Oh well, early bed time tonight - then ill have my mommy-time", I think.
Wrong.
After a day full of "oh well, we're going to make this a good day" reminders, I have nothing left come dinner time. I tell Lyla to eat her dinner for the hundredth time through gritted, fake-smiling teeth. Hannah is covered in sweet potato and exhausted - I just want to cry right along with her. I skip bath time because I simply do not have the energy. I catch myself feeling snappy and I try to focus on my breathing: "I am aware of my in-breath, I am aware of my out-breath"
Not working.
Eventually, they are both fed, cleaned up, in pajamas, and asleep. But since I chose to put off all the cleaning and chores that day to make myself more available to the girls, I now have a kitchen full of dirty dishes and laundry piles that are so high I can barely see our laundry room, let alone the washing machine. I wash and fold as quickly as I can, and look forward to making myself a snack and some tea, and finally sit down to my beloved DVR'd crap-TV shows.
Hannah wakes up. Time to nurse. I get her settled back down, and fall asleep on the couch mid-show, and never even took a sip of my tea.
Of course, not everyday is like this. Infact, I'm lucky enough to say that MOST days are not. However, when they DO occur, I can't seem to handle them and I absolutely hate myself for this. I get so easily overwhelmed, I piss and moan about how I never get time to myself, I dwell on my injury and how I can't run - I know the negativity won't get me anywhere, but I'm in too deep and start spiraling downward.
It's days like this that remind me just how difficult mindfulness really is. I practice and practice, but still find myself reactive, and stressed out. My husband calls this "being human" - agreed; I know that I have the right to have emotions and to acknowledge them, and that is is normal to lose your cool. But that doesn't mean I feel good about it when it happens.
Mindful parenting has been one of my biggest practices, and one of the more difficult things I have dealt with. On a good day, I am forever grateful. I stare and stare at my girls, think of how beautiful they are, what great kids they truly are, feel good about how I handled Lyla's meltdown, spend the day smiling and laughing...you get the idea. It's the bad days that I really get down on myself for.
How am I teaching Lyla not to yell when I am yelling at her?
How am I teaching her to stay calm when the smallest thing seems to send me over the edge?
How am I teaching her to listen when I am rushing her through the story she has told me 5 times that morning?
And the funny thing is, most of the things that frustrate me with her is how she reacts to things - but who am I to talk when I am the one she's modeling after? This realization is what makes me feel most guilty about the "bad" days, and furthermore, what makes me want to practice mindfulness even more. Happy kids, happy mom? Sure. But I think the cause of happy kids IS a happy mom, and I am happiest when I feel good about myself, about my reactions, about the time spent with my girls.
Practice makes perfect.
I get up early to try and capture the one hour of hot coffee and breakfast I enjoy to myself while the house is still dark and quiet. Just as I sit down, delicious almond milk-dashed coffee warming my hands, there goes little Hannah over the monitor. By the time she's either nursed and back to sleep, or changed and happily playing - coffee's cold. I opt for the quick bowl of cereal instead of veggie egg-white omelette I had planned. Once Hannah sees mommy eating, she wants breakfast too. I wolf down my cereal and take sips of cold coffee between feeding Hannah bites of yogurt. I'm frustrated that my morning is not going as planned, but am trying to keep a positive mind. "Oh well, early bed time tonight - then ill have my mommy-time", I think.
Wrong.
After a day full of "oh well, we're going to make this a good day" reminders, I have nothing left come dinner time. I tell Lyla to eat her dinner for the hundredth time through gritted, fake-smiling teeth. Hannah is covered in sweet potato and exhausted - I just want to cry right along with her. I skip bath time because I simply do not have the energy. I catch myself feeling snappy and I try to focus on my breathing: "I am aware of my in-breath, I am aware of my out-breath"
Not working.
Eventually, they are both fed, cleaned up, in pajamas, and asleep. But since I chose to put off all the cleaning and chores that day to make myself more available to the girls, I now have a kitchen full of dirty dishes and laundry piles that are so high I can barely see our laundry room, let alone the washing machine. I wash and fold as quickly as I can, and look forward to making myself a snack and some tea, and finally sit down to my beloved DVR'd crap-TV shows.
Hannah wakes up. Time to nurse. I get her settled back down, and fall asleep on the couch mid-show, and never even took a sip of my tea.
Of course, not everyday is like this. Infact, I'm lucky enough to say that MOST days are not. However, when they DO occur, I can't seem to handle them and I absolutely hate myself for this. I get so easily overwhelmed, I piss and moan about how I never get time to myself, I dwell on my injury and how I can't run - I know the negativity won't get me anywhere, but I'm in too deep and start spiraling downward.
It's days like this that remind me just how difficult mindfulness really is. I practice and practice, but still find myself reactive, and stressed out. My husband calls this "being human" - agreed; I know that I have the right to have emotions and to acknowledge them, and that is is normal to lose your cool. But that doesn't mean I feel good about it when it happens.
Mindful parenting has been one of my biggest practices, and one of the more difficult things I have dealt with. On a good day, I am forever grateful. I stare and stare at my girls, think of how beautiful they are, what great kids they truly are, feel good about how I handled Lyla's meltdown, spend the day smiling and laughing...you get the idea. It's the bad days that I really get down on myself for.
How am I teaching Lyla not to yell when I am yelling at her?
How am I teaching her to stay calm when the smallest thing seems to send me over the edge?
How am I teaching her to listen when I am rushing her through the story she has told me 5 times that morning?
And the funny thing is, most of the things that frustrate me with her is how she reacts to things - but who am I to talk when I am the one she's modeling after? This realization is what makes me feel most guilty about the "bad" days, and furthermore, what makes me want to practice mindfulness even more. Happy kids, happy mom? Sure. But I think the cause of happy kids IS a happy mom, and I am happiest when I feel good about myself, about my reactions, about the time spent with my girls.
Practice makes perfect.
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