The other day, Lyla asked me "do you think you and Daddy will stay married forever?"
This question was followed by a long list of people in our family who used to be married and are now divorced. Both sets of her grandparents are divorced - and most of them remarried - and have been since long before she was born. She's experienced several people come in and out of our lives from those who date and then break up. And because of all this, I can't blame her for being curious about her own parents.
To be honest, this was not a conversation I wanted to sugarcoat. The truth is, no one knows what events life will bring - including those within a marriage. Nothing is guaranteed. Can I honestly say I'd stick it out after finding out about an affair? Or if our life goals and passions eventually lead us in different directions? No, I can't. For a marriage to work, you need to not only grow within yourself but with your spouse. You need to constantly encourage this growth in each other so you can feel free, supported, and most important of all, HAPPY in your marriage. So far so good with Eric and I, but a lifetime is forever away, and the last thing I want is for my children to have a fantasy of expectations. So, I entered the conversation with our crazy smart 5 year old with this in mind.
While referring to those in our lives who have experienced divorce, I explained that people change. And if these changes don't happen together, it can make people feel unhappy, and that happiness is extremely important. Lyla's response to this was "yeah, you'd probably get pretty sick of each other if you were always feeling frustrated" (gosh, I love her brain).
Keeping the conversation short, I closed by simply telling her that Mommy and Daddy would stay married as long as we make each other happy. I assured her that we are very happy now, and hope to always be.
I do not want a divorce, and love my husband deeply. However, divorce is a real thing in this world, and I simply don't want my children to grow up thinking it's the end of the world. I want them to know that when a divorce takes place, whether it be a family member, parents of a friend, or whoever it may be, that it is not a bad thing. It is the end to an unhappy time, and the opportunity for those people to find happiness once again.
She's had an interesting take on this. Her response to the initial conversation was "that's good". She has since made comments like "if you know Daddy gets frustrated easily, why did you marry him?" and others like "Daddy is so handsome, good job marrying him" - she cracks me up. Each question is an opportunity for me to teach her something, so I always answer honestly. I tell her that even though Daddy gets frustrated, there are many other good qualities about him that we all love. I also tell her that though I agree he is quite the handsome, there is more to loving someone than how they look.
I love how mature our girl is, and that I can have these conversations honestly with her. I love that she knows how happy her parents are together, but that there is light at the end of the tunnel for those who have experienced divorce. As I am practicing myself, I want to teach my children to always look at the positives in a situation - divorce included.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Motherhood Saved Me
I often find myself thinking about where my life would be if I hadn't become a mother at such a young age. I had (what I thought were) big plans for myself, after all.
After choosing a 13 month program to become a Massage Therapist, I was feeling a little left out of the whole "college experience" that most of my good friends were diving into. I continued to live and study at home, while every one else bunked in dorms with their new best friends. I worked my ass off studying during the week keeping up an A+ average, and partied my liver away at my friends various colleges on the weekends.
Feeling secluded at home with most of my friends away, I poured myself into my newest relationship, that, you guessed it, revolved around partying. That eventually fizzled out and I made plans with friends to move to Amherst and live in an apartment together once I graduated from Massage Therapy School. I could only think of the incredibly hip life I'd have; massaging college athletes or alongside a yoga instructor next to a corner café, and living like a sorority girl all at the same time. What I didn't plan for was the discovery of a pregnancy just days after I became a certified MT.
Well, those plans went out the window.
From that moment on my life revolved around work, healthy living, and book after book of "What to Expect". And because of this, I can't help but be thankful for the timing of this unplanned miracle, because I truly feel like it saved me in so many ways.
It was the kick off to my clean eating, to my daily exercise, to my prioritizing, to true love, to absolutely everything that is in my life today. And because of what seemed like poor timing, and because I was at home breastfeeding and changing diapers while my friends were all at the bars and making lifetime friendships, I immersed myself in motherhood. I used it as a distraction from the outside world, from my unhappy relationship, from everything. From the moment those little pink lines appeared, it was all about her. Those distractions became a form of habit, and those habits lead me to truly love and appreciate everything there was about motherhood and this beautiful, incredible little girl I had created.
It also taught me to never settle. It wasn't just about me anymore, and my little girl deserved the best, deserved happiness, deserved love. And because I wanted this for her, I needed it for me. I am thankful everyday for the timing of this pregnancy. I am thankful that I am sitting here today, happily married with two beautiful healthy children. I am happy that because I had Lyla exactly when I did, I was forced to take a new path.
That little girl saved me in more ways than she will ever know.
After choosing a 13 month program to become a Massage Therapist, I was feeling a little left out of the whole "college experience" that most of my good friends were diving into. I continued to live and study at home, while every one else bunked in dorms with their new best friends. I worked my ass off studying during the week keeping up an A+ average, and partied my liver away at my friends various colleges on the weekends.
Feeling secluded at home with most of my friends away, I poured myself into my newest relationship, that, you guessed it, revolved around partying. That eventually fizzled out and I made plans with friends to move to Amherst and live in an apartment together once I graduated from Massage Therapy School. I could only think of the incredibly hip life I'd have; massaging college athletes or alongside a yoga instructor next to a corner café, and living like a sorority girl all at the same time. What I didn't plan for was the discovery of a pregnancy just days after I became a certified MT.
Well, those plans went out the window.
From that moment on my life revolved around work, healthy living, and book after book of "What to Expect". And because of this, I can't help but be thankful for the timing of this unplanned miracle, because I truly feel like it saved me in so many ways.
It was the kick off to my clean eating, to my daily exercise, to my prioritizing, to true love, to absolutely everything that is in my life today. And because of what seemed like poor timing, and because I was at home breastfeeding and changing diapers while my friends were all at the bars and making lifetime friendships, I immersed myself in motherhood. I used it as a distraction from the outside world, from my unhappy relationship, from everything. From the moment those little pink lines appeared, it was all about her. Those distractions became a form of habit, and those habits lead me to truly love and appreciate everything there was about motherhood and this beautiful, incredible little girl I had created.
It also taught me to never settle. It wasn't just about me anymore, and my little girl deserved the best, deserved happiness, deserved love. And because I wanted this for her, I needed it for me. I am thankful everyday for the timing of this pregnancy. I am thankful that I am sitting here today, happily married with two beautiful healthy children. I am happy that because I had Lyla exactly when I did, I was forced to take a new path.
That little girl saved me in more ways than she will ever know.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Motherhood Struggles
I will say it - I bust my ass as a stay at home mom. It's a job that could be much easier if I just allowed for a little more TV time, or chose day care and work instead of the time at home. A friend of mine shed some light on why she thinks I might be as hard-working as I am, and I found it very enlightening.
I got pregnant with Lyla at 19 and had her at 20. It was a very sudden, very new relationship I was in, and surrounded by judgmental peers who were full of opinions. Knowing I couldn't do anything about what people would say or think of my situation, I knew that I had no choice but to prove them wrong by being the best. Sure, it was an unplanned pregnancy. And sure, I was young. But what could people say poorly about me if I was an amazing mother? Until my friend brought up this point, I had never really thought of it that way, but it made me realize that this realistically was my initial mindset - I had just never said it aloud. But from the moment I got pregnant, I knew that there was no way I would ever take a short cut or an easy way out. This was my baby, and I was all hers.
I will admit though, that I think the hardest part about parenting it just how hard I can be on myself. I guess it's not entirely bad to be "obsessed" with your kids, but I feel I can take it to the extreme sometimes. I exhaust myself making sure that, everyday, they are read to, played with, out for fresh air, learning new things...etc. Most days this is wonderful, and I feel amazing about the job I am doing as their mother. But there are days where my desire for constant stimulation for my children gets in the way.
Some days - particularly days where Eric doesn't work - we will spend more time thinking of a family day plan, rather than actually spending time and playing with the girls. I am so set on getting out and doing something new and fun, that we waste half the day deciding, which leads me to be frustrated about the time that has slipped away, and if we do make it out, it's rushed, frantic, and forced.
My latest and greatest learning experience in motherhood is to just let go. If I am at home, paying attention to the girls, that is much more productive than cooking up a plan that will simply get us out of the house for an hour. And if I am at the gym or out running errands, I can't be upset with my husband for not taking them outside, or not reading to them. His time with them is his - I shouldn't feel the need to control it.
With everyday in motherhood there is a lesson to be learned. I keep learning, and keep changing. I will never regret working as hard as I do, because you would do anything for your kids. But I am happy to have found ways to be more relaxed if things don't necessarily go "according to plan".
I got pregnant with Lyla at 19 and had her at 20. It was a very sudden, very new relationship I was in, and surrounded by judgmental peers who were full of opinions. Knowing I couldn't do anything about what people would say or think of my situation, I knew that I had no choice but to prove them wrong by being the best. Sure, it was an unplanned pregnancy. And sure, I was young. But what could people say poorly about me if I was an amazing mother? Until my friend brought up this point, I had never really thought of it that way, but it made me realize that this realistically was my initial mindset - I had just never said it aloud. But from the moment I got pregnant, I knew that there was no way I would ever take a short cut or an easy way out. This was my baby, and I was all hers.
I will admit though, that I think the hardest part about parenting it just how hard I can be on myself. I guess it's not entirely bad to be "obsessed" with your kids, but I feel I can take it to the extreme sometimes. I exhaust myself making sure that, everyday, they are read to, played with, out for fresh air, learning new things...etc. Most days this is wonderful, and I feel amazing about the job I am doing as their mother. But there are days where my desire for constant stimulation for my children gets in the way.
Some days - particularly days where Eric doesn't work - we will spend more time thinking of a family day plan, rather than actually spending time and playing with the girls. I am so set on getting out and doing something new and fun, that we waste half the day deciding, which leads me to be frustrated about the time that has slipped away, and if we do make it out, it's rushed, frantic, and forced.
My latest and greatest learning experience in motherhood is to just let go. If I am at home, paying attention to the girls, that is much more productive than cooking up a plan that will simply get us out of the house for an hour. And if I am at the gym or out running errands, I can't be upset with my husband for not taking them outside, or not reading to them. His time with them is his - I shouldn't feel the need to control it.
With everyday in motherhood there is a lesson to be learned. I keep learning, and keep changing. I will never regret working as hard as I do, because you would do anything for your kids. But I am happy to have found ways to be more relaxed if things don't necessarily go "according to plan".
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Modern Parenting - What Works for Us
There's a lot of hype revolving around modern, gentle ways to parent these days.
Never say "no". Never yell. No time outs - ever.
As much as I'd like to think of myself as one of these cool, mellow parents who is able to raise her children in a calm and collected manner, without ever shouting or sending someone to their room, I'm not. However, I'd be lying if I said that I haven't thought about it, or even tried it for a day...or half an hour.
Good parenting, to me, is defined by knowing what works best for you and your children. I am not quick to put my kids in a time out, but they will end up there after several warnings. I try to use phrases like "we don't pull hair" followed by an explanation of "that hurts", but will not hesitate to let out a firm "NO" after poor Lyla is crying and Hannah has her third fist full of her sisters hair.
I will admit that I do not always believe time outs work. They spend that time crying, and other than a forced "sorry" and a hug, nothing gets fixed. They will still be upset and act according to their emotions, which still results in grumpy, sibling-bothering kids. I've realized that at times, the time out has more to do with ME needing a break and them needing to be removed from a situation, rather than them being punished. And this is where we found something that works for us: alone time.
Alone time, usually pertaining to Lyla, and is when we have her go in her room and choose an activity to do - alone. We explain to her that she is not in trouble, but also why she needs this time to herself; not sharing well, not speaking kindly...etc. She can read books, color, do puzzles, or rest in bed. We tell her that she can come out whenever she is ready to play/talk nicely. This is something that has really worked. She will usually spend at least a half hour in her room, doing activities that can be difficult with Hannah around, like color with markers or use her princess things that have smaller pieces. I'll check in on her to bring her a snack, or "ooh" and "ahh" over something she just created. When she feels ready to come out of her room, she is like a whole new kid. She is happy, more calm, apologizes on her own, and plays with her sister without frustration.
It's also something that is great for me, too. When you're at home all day and you feel like one more temper tantrum might just put you over the edge, this "alone time" is the perfect little break needed from the chaos of arguing siblings. It allows things in the house to quiet down, Hannah gets the attention she wants, and Lyla gets the alone time she needs. We can all come back together with more patience and understanding, and move on with the rest of our day.
It prevents a lot of yelling on my part, and hair-pulling on theirs.
So as much as I may use the word "no", raise my voice, and use time-outs, we seem to be making it work for our family just fine.
Never say "no". Never yell. No time outs - ever.
As much as I'd like to think of myself as one of these cool, mellow parents who is able to raise her children in a calm and collected manner, without ever shouting or sending someone to their room, I'm not. However, I'd be lying if I said that I haven't thought about it, or even tried it for a day...or half an hour.
Good parenting, to me, is defined by knowing what works best for you and your children. I am not quick to put my kids in a time out, but they will end up there after several warnings. I try to use phrases like "we don't pull hair" followed by an explanation of "that hurts", but will not hesitate to let out a firm "NO" after poor Lyla is crying and Hannah has her third fist full of her sisters hair.
I will admit that I do not always believe time outs work. They spend that time crying, and other than a forced "sorry" and a hug, nothing gets fixed. They will still be upset and act according to their emotions, which still results in grumpy, sibling-bothering kids. I've realized that at times, the time out has more to do with ME needing a break and them needing to be removed from a situation, rather than them being punished. And this is where we found something that works for us: alone time.
Alone time, usually pertaining to Lyla, and is when we have her go in her room and choose an activity to do - alone. We explain to her that she is not in trouble, but also why she needs this time to herself; not sharing well, not speaking kindly...etc. She can read books, color, do puzzles, or rest in bed. We tell her that she can come out whenever she is ready to play/talk nicely. This is something that has really worked. She will usually spend at least a half hour in her room, doing activities that can be difficult with Hannah around, like color with markers or use her princess things that have smaller pieces. I'll check in on her to bring her a snack, or "ooh" and "ahh" over something she just created. When she feels ready to come out of her room, she is like a whole new kid. She is happy, more calm, apologizes on her own, and plays with her sister without frustration.
It's also something that is great for me, too. When you're at home all day and you feel like one more temper tantrum might just put you over the edge, this "alone time" is the perfect little break needed from the chaos of arguing siblings. It allows things in the house to quiet down, Hannah gets the attention she wants, and Lyla gets the alone time she needs. We can all come back together with more patience and understanding, and move on with the rest of our day.
It prevents a lot of yelling on my part, and hair-pulling on theirs.
So as much as I may use the word "no", raise my voice, and use time-outs, we seem to be making it work for our family just fine.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Ending One Chapter and Beginning Another
11 months old is how young tiny Lyla was when Eric came into our lives. We began dating with the understanding that motherhood came first, dates were spent at playgrounds, and that I was a package deal. I knew that no matter how well I was treated, the true test would be his time with my daughter. He accompanied us to parks, changed diapers, created laughter, and witnessed first steps. I'm not sure whose heart he won first, but in a short time, he had us both.
As waters remained rough with Lyla's biological father, I would often find myself wishing that there was a way for her to be Eric's instead. Fast forward 3 years, and it's coming true.
It's no secret that the relationship I had with bio-dad was solely because we created a child. After our split when Lyla was 10 months old, he saw her off and on for 8 months, and then stopped completely. These two and a half years have been filled with lots of back and forth on his part; wanting to sign her over then wanting full custody, paying child support then not paying, wishing to start over, and now, his final decision, surrendering his parental rights. It's something we've heard him say he would do before. Well, today, I got a call from my lawyer confirming that he has made this decision and that she had the signed document in hand.
This could not be happening at a better time in Lyla's life. She is aware and sensitive to the fact that her last name is different from the rest of her family's. She (amazingly) remembers visiting her bio-dad's, and will bring up questions about why he is not around. On her own, she has gradually made the transition from calling Eric by his name, to calling him "Daddy".
With her being so sensitive, I was careful with how I approached this subject with her. After reaching out to several "mommy-support-groups" as well as friends and family over the last few months while we waited for this process to become final, I came up with what I believe to be an age-appropriate explanation of what will be happening. This is how our conversation went:
"Some people aren't ready to be Mommies and Daddies, and [bio-dad] wasn't ready. But because he loves you so much, he wants you to have a Daddy who can see you and be with you everyday, which is why he wants Daddy to be your all-the-time Daddy. It's like you are the biggest, best present that [bio-dad] can give to Daddy - isn't that so nice of him?"
She loves the idea of being a "gift". She was even more excited when she found out that this meant her name could be changed to match Mommy, Daddy and Hannah. And, as much as a 4 year old can, she seemed understanding and accepting of the fact that after this happens, Eric will be her only dad.
I want her to be clued-in. I want her to be informed. I want to be as open and honest (as well as age-appropriate) as I can be with her, so that she does not have some earth shattering realization when she's a teenager that she is adopted and used to have another, different father. For the first time today, I started using the word "adoption". I told her that it means Daddy loves her so much that he wants to be her Daddy every single day forever and ever. The smile on her face when I explained this was priceless. I don't want to overuse the terminology to make her feel different, but I do want her to be aware of it, too.
When I received that phone call, I cannot put into words the relief it brought. No more anxiety over the "what if's", no more nonsense, but most of all: no more feeling bad. I have had moments where I just felt plain old sad; sad for Lyla that someone could just give her up like that. Sad for him, that he put excuses before a relationship with his child - but these feelings are long gone. Lyla was fortunate enough to have Eric as a constant in her life, and that his family was overwhelmingly accepting and loving. She will never feel neglect or a lapse with this change. As for him, well, I could not force a relationship between them, and will never again hold myself responsible for his decision.
Once again, I find myself repeating the ever so cliché expression: everything happens for a reason. 3 years ago I would watch Eric play so lovingly with my baby girl and ask him "why can't you be her dad?" - how lucky am I to be here, today, having just that come true. Some mothers didn't get to hand pick the father of their child at all, and most others didn't get to take theirs for a test drive. I had a very big advantage here, for which I am forever grateful.
Looking forward to the rest of our lives as one big happy Dorschied family :)
As waters remained rough with Lyla's biological father, I would often find myself wishing that there was a way for her to be Eric's instead. Fast forward 3 years, and it's coming true.
It's no secret that the relationship I had with bio-dad was solely because we created a child. After our split when Lyla was 10 months old, he saw her off and on for 8 months, and then stopped completely. These two and a half years have been filled with lots of back and forth on his part; wanting to sign her over then wanting full custody, paying child support then not paying, wishing to start over, and now, his final decision, surrendering his parental rights. It's something we've heard him say he would do before. Well, today, I got a call from my lawyer confirming that he has made this decision and that she had the signed document in hand.
This could not be happening at a better time in Lyla's life. She is aware and sensitive to the fact that her last name is different from the rest of her family's. She (amazingly) remembers visiting her bio-dad's, and will bring up questions about why he is not around. On her own, she has gradually made the transition from calling Eric by his name, to calling him "Daddy".
With her being so sensitive, I was careful with how I approached this subject with her. After reaching out to several "mommy-support-groups" as well as friends and family over the last few months while we waited for this process to become final, I came up with what I believe to be an age-appropriate explanation of what will be happening. This is how our conversation went:
"Some people aren't ready to be Mommies and Daddies, and [bio-dad] wasn't ready. But because he loves you so much, he wants you to have a Daddy who can see you and be with you everyday, which is why he wants Daddy to be your all-the-time Daddy. It's like you are the biggest, best present that [bio-dad] can give to Daddy - isn't that so nice of him?"
She loves the idea of being a "gift". She was even more excited when she found out that this meant her name could be changed to match Mommy, Daddy and Hannah. And, as much as a 4 year old can, she seemed understanding and accepting of the fact that after this happens, Eric will be her only dad.
I want her to be clued-in. I want her to be informed. I want to be as open and honest (as well as age-appropriate) as I can be with her, so that she does not have some earth shattering realization when she's a teenager that she is adopted and used to have another, different father. For the first time today, I started using the word "adoption". I told her that it means Daddy loves her so much that he wants to be her Daddy every single day forever and ever. The smile on her face when I explained this was priceless. I don't want to overuse the terminology to make her feel different, but I do want her to be aware of it, too.
When I received that phone call, I cannot put into words the relief it brought. No more anxiety over the "what if's", no more nonsense, but most of all: no more feeling bad. I have had moments where I just felt plain old sad; sad for Lyla that someone could just give her up like that. Sad for him, that he put excuses before a relationship with his child - but these feelings are long gone. Lyla was fortunate enough to have Eric as a constant in her life, and that his family was overwhelmingly accepting and loving. She will never feel neglect or a lapse with this change. As for him, well, I could not force a relationship between them, and will never again hold myself responsible for his decision.
Once again, I find myself repeating the ever so cliché expression: everything happens for a reason. 3 years ago I would watch Eric play so lovingly with my baby girl and ask him "why can't you be her dad?" - how lucky am I to be here, today, having just that come true. Some mothers didn't get to hand pick the father of their child at all, and most others didn't get to take theirs for a test drive. I had a very big advantage here, for which I am forever grateful.
Looking forward to the rest of our lives as one big happy Dorschied family :)
Thursday, October 10, 2013
"I'm Sorry", always.
Relationships, whether it's with friends, family, or your children, will inevitably have arguments. The one thing that leaves these relationships undamaged and gives them the ability to grow and move forward is the apology. This is one of the more important aspects of life I try and teach my children through example every day.
I've blogged before about Eric and I both apologizing after an argument (one for the upsetting event, and the other for the reaction), but I also make a point to apologize to my children, too. I've read parenting articles that describe "sticking to your guns" when it comes to discipline, because "the child will never learn if you go back on your word" - true, but not in all cases in my opinion. If I give several warnings and eventually end up taking away dessert, yes, I will stick to it, and there will be no dessert after dinner that night. But if the punishment comes from my lack of patience and I feel I am being unfair, or unnecessarily yelling, you're damn right I apologize to those kids, just as I'd expect someone to apologize to me in a similar situation.
I've definitely had my days where I got little sleep, missed my morning coffee or didn't have a chance to run, and my temper flairs up easily. In our house, we call these "grumpy days" - and I make a point to explain how I am feeling to the girls (yes, even little Hannah). After feeling intolerant and putting Lyla in what was probably an unnecessary time-out, I am sure to take that time to take a few cleansing breaths, enter her room, and explain to her why I got upset. But more importantly, I apologize for raising my voice. At this point, Lyla usually instructs me on "what would have been a nicer thing to say", which is just adorable, and pretty much always squashes my poor mood right then and there.
I absolutely hate yelling. I strive for calm, patient ways to deal with even the most frustrating tantrums, but some days I lose my cool - it's never something I feel good about, and I know my children don't feel good about it either. This is why I feel like it is so important to apologize when it happens. No, I don't feel like I'm "un-doing" any discipline by saying I'm sorry, especially when I still take the time to explain what they did wrong, why it upset Mommy, and why Mommy reacted that way. I tell them that Mommy needs to work on not raising her voice, just like I will tell Lyla she needs to work on using kind words, or tell Hannah she needs to work on being gentle and not hitting. Children learn best through example, and what better example then to hop aboard this learning journey with them. I want them to know it's normal to feel frustrated; that it's okay to get upset and overreact - we are human after all, but the lesson I want them to grasp is what you do after that is what matters.
Hopefully I am building a foundation for a lifetime of wonderful relationships for these girls, one apology at a time.
I've blogged before about Eric and I both apologizing after an argument (one for the upsetting event, and the other for the reaction), but I also make a point to apologize to my children, too. I've read parenting articles that describe "sticking to your guns" when it comes to discipline, because "the child will never learn if you go back on your word" - true, but not in all cases in my opinion. If I give several warnings and eventually end up taking away dessert, yes, I will stick to it, and there will be no dessert after dinner that night. But if the punishment comes from my lack of patience and I feel I am being unfair, or unnecessarily yelling, you're damn right I apologize to those kids, just as I'd expect someone to apologize to me in a similar situation.
I've definitely had my days where I got little sleep, missed my morning coffee or didn't have a chance to run, and my temper flairs up easily. In our house, we call these "grumpy days" - and I make a point to explain how I am feeling to the girls (yes, even little Hannah). After feeling intolerant and putting Lyla in what was probably an unnecessary time-out, I am sure to take that time to take a few cleansing breaths, enter her room, and explain to her why I got upset. But more importantly, I apologize for raising my voice. At this point, Lyla usually instructs me on "what would have been a nicer thing to say", which is just adorable, and pretty much always squashes my poor mood right then and there.
I absolutely hate yelling. I strive for calm, patient ways to deal with even the most frustrating tantrums, but some days I lose my cool - it's never something I feel good about, and I know my children don't feel good about it either. This is why I feel like it is so important to apologize when it happens. No, I don't feel like I'm "un-doing" any discipline by saying I'm sorry, especially when I still take the time to explain what they did wrong, why it upset Mommy, and why Mommy reacted that way. I tell them that Mommy needs to work on not raising her voice, just like I will tell Lyla she needs to work on using kind words, or tell Hannah she needs to work on being gentle and not hitting. Children learn best through example, and what better example then to hop aboard this learning journey with them. I want them to know it's normal to feel frustrated; that it's okay to get upset and overreact - we are human after all, but the lesson I want them to grasp is what you do after that is what matters.
Hopefully I am building a foundation for a lifetime of wonderful relationships for these girls, one apology at a time.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Forced Present Moments
If it's one thing I've found myself struggling with most as a mother, it's staying present. How can something so simple be so difficult? I can't believe how easily distracted I can get by the dishes that need to be put away, or the laundry that needs to be folded, or the dinner that needs preparing. Some days it feels like even though we are kept very busy with playgrounds, games, puzzles and other kid-friendly activities, that I find myself just working towards the next step; "okay this will kill time until dinner, and then bath time will eat up time until bed"...and I hate feeling this way because instead of watching the clock, I should just BE there with my girls. Engaging, enjoying, and giving them my full attention.
I have tried playing around with different balances of things that need to get done and playtime with the kids (as well as time with my husband!); I've tried leaving all the household stuff for after they are in bed (and hubby is at work) so my time during the day is primarily theirs. Well, then come bedtime, I'd be exhausted and overwhelmed with everything that needed tending to. When I tried setting certain times of the day to get a few things done to lessen the nightly chore load, I would always feel guilty; like I SHOULD be on the floor with them building blocks, too. I know, I am my own worst critic, but I was never feeling good about my time, always wishing there was more.
But the truth is, there are things that need to get done and I am the kind if person who feels I can fully engage in an activity or playtime knowing my chores were (somewhat) taken care of. My problem, I learned, is knowing when to stop. I tend to get on these kicks, where I tell myself I'll "just do the dishes" but then afterwards feel compelled to clean the counter tops, and then need to sweep the floors, and oh those cabinets are a mess! And why not, when the girls are playing so nicely? True. But then comes the guilt of not being with them. It's a brutal mind game that's endless.
So, we came up with some "house rules" that force the present moment to be just that.
House rule 1: non-negotiable dance party. We pretty much always have music on in the background of our home, and the girls and I will pick a popular, upbeat song (so it will be played at least a few times throughout the day). When we hear this song come on, no matter what we are doing, we have to stop and have a dance party together in our living room. I stop any chores I'm doing, we will get up from eating dinner, we've even got out of the bath tub on occasion and it's saved Lyla from a time out when the song came on as she approached her time-out chair. This usually leads to dancing to more than one song, and just a good old fun time with my girls where we all have each other's full attention.
House rule 2: reading time every day. Luckily, my girls absolutely love reading. There is no way to not be present when you are reading a story. I make sure to make time everyday with both Lyla and Hannah to read books. Lyla is still young enough to want to listen to Hannah's stories, and has even memorized a few so that she can take a turn "reading", so this is a time during the day I really appreciate: we all curl up on the couch or bed with some snacks and an insane pile of books and read away. The phone stays in the other room, chores get out on hold, and we are just THERE.
Lyla and I spend most of our "mommy & me" time reading, too. When Hannah naps or goes to bed early, Lyla loves to pick out "big girl" stories. We sometimes read together for an hour at a time!
Reading time is also when I get to see how much my girls have grown, which is the most preset-reminder I can get. (Whoa, wait, she knows what that means?? And Hannah can point out all these items??) it's really incredible to watch.
The days I feel the best as a parent are days spent present minded with my family. Days where I lose my phone for hours, the TV stays off, stories are read, but also that yes, a few chores got done too. I am still working on a feel-good balance between all the things my time needs to be divided into, but for now these little house rules reminds me of what matters most, and it's the best thing we have done for our family.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
2nd Child Syndrome...Kind Of
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Mom-Fail
For the last 3 and a half years, I'd like to think I have been a pretty patient, tolerant mother. Always finding a way to use my words, keep my voice at a reasonable level, and really just enjoy my kids - even in their worst moments. But lately? Not so much. It's almost as if these last few years have finally caught up to me, and my prize-winning performance has run its course. To say the least, lately, motherhood has been kicking my ass.
I keep telling fellow moms that I don't know whether it's my kids, or me. Are they both going through tough stages, or am I just being intolerant? Sure, Hannah's separation anxiety is in full force and I can not put her down these days, and Lyla's "questions phase" has grown to at least 800 per day. Probably more. But as the mom, aren't I supposed to just be able to handle these things? Sure, I have my Super-Mom days where I keep the 18lb baby on my hip all day and answer each and every one of Lyla's questions with grueling detail and explanation, all while juggling meal time, chores, and Lyla's love of crafts. But then there are what I call the mom-fail days.
Okay, that's not a very fair name for them, but at the end of one of these days, that's how I'm left feeling - like I failed. I should have done this. I should have been able to handle that. These are the days where the screams go right through me. Where the first "cause why???" that comes out of Lyla's mouth makes me want to go hide under a rock until this phase is over. Meltdowns from both kids are in full swing; from Hannah because I put her down for two seconds so I could pee, and Lyla because she refuses to walk to the bathroom and get a tissue herself. These are the days, the mom-fail days, where my vocal chords get to stretch their wings. "KNOCK IT OFF! GO TO YOUR ROOM! NO TV! NO DESSERT!" So again, I ask, is it them, or me? One mom told me "it's always them" - I like that, but I never, ever feel good at the end of these days. I've never let out a good scream and thought "man, that felt good". In fact, I'm pretty sure I usually un-do any punishing by simply feeling bad, and going into Lyla's room, curling her up on my lap, explaining why mommy got so upset, and then apologizing for my reaction - but not always. On mom-fail days, I stay upset. Because I stay upset, the next little thing she does sends her right back into her time out chair, without any chances. And it's always in these moments that Hannah is at her worst; flailing in my arms or scooting around on the floor begging to be picked up. On mom-fail days, whether it's them or me, it never settles down. It is non-stop, zero tolerance, constant yelling, absolute failure of a day - both with their actions and my ability to handle it.
On top of it, the day doesn't end at bedtime. Hannah has not slept for more than 3-4 hour chunks at night since her arrival 9 months ago, and it never fails that once I climb into our warm, cozy bed, the cries begin. Luckily, she goes back down easily - a quick nursing session or a pacifier-pop - but it's the constant broken sleep that leaves me exhausted and, particularly on these days, frustrated. "Come on, Hannah" I'll grunt from under the covers. Great. Now I'm upset with my little innocent baby after an entire day of pointing my toddler to the time-out chair in her room. All I want is to sleep it off and wake up with a fresh start, but I can't even do that.
Last week seemed like this vicious cycle was on repeat. I wake up tired, but want to have a good day. I decide to surprise Lyla with breakfast in bed. While flipping pancakes, I'm trying to brush off the day before by taking some cleansing breaths and concentrating on today. I start to think of fun things to do with the girls. Maybe the library for some new bedtime stories, and a trip to the mall to treat Lyla to her favorite giant soft pretzel. Just as I'm finished putting together Lyla's breakfast - blueberry pancakes, sliced fruit, and a juice box (usually just used for school), I am so excited to hear that she is awake over the monitor. I grab the tray of food and head into her room. "Good morning my girl! I made you some breakfast to eat in bed for a treat". Aaaaaaaand meltdown. She was so upset because usually when I make blueberry pancakes, I let her put the blueberries in. I can feel my blood start to boil but try to keep my cool, explaining that next time she can help mommy but that I wanted to surprise her. No dice. At this point, Hannah is blaring over the monitor, awake and in need of a diaper change and breakfast. I ended up throwing the pancakes away, which sent Lyla into an even further panicked tantrum. I just walked away, closing the bedroom door behind me when I went in to get Hannah, and had a meltdown myself. It was only 7am.
Last week was particularly bad. The worst I've felt as a parent, the worst I've seen Lyla behave, and the crankiest Hannah has been since her sad-belly days. I was so unbelievably overwhelmed, and on top of if all, sustained a foot injury that has prevented me from training and, potentially, even running the half marathon. As shitty as last week was, it makes me truly appreciate the good days, like today, where Lyla was so kind and sweet, and didn't have one time out. We did crafts, danced, watched TV and ate dessert. Now, the question again, is it them, or me? Sure, Lyla was great today, but I also felt back to my cool-calm-collected ways. So who was last week really about? Either way, I came out of it totally beat up.
I keep telling fellow moms that I don't know whether it's my kids, or me. Are they both going through tough stages, or am I just being intolerant? Sure, Hannah's separation anxiety is in full force and I can not put her down these days, and Lyla's "questions phase" has grown to at least 800 per day. Probably more. But as the mom, aren't I supposed to just be able to handle these things? Sure, I have my Super-Mom days where I keep the 18lb baby on my hip all day and answer each and every one of Lyla's questions with grueling detail and explanation, all while juggling meal time, chores, and Lyla's love of crafts. But then there are what I call the mom-fail days.
Okay, that's not a very fair name for them, but at the end of one of these days, that's how I'm left feeling - like I failed. I should have done this. I should have been able to handle that. These are the days where the screams go right through me. Where the first "cause why???" that comes out of Lyla's mouth makes me want to go hide under a rock until this phase is over. Meltdowns from both kids are in full swing; from Hannah because I put her down for two seconds so I could pee, and Lyla because she refuses to walk to the bathroom and get a tissue herself. These are the days, the mom-fail days, where my vocal chords get to stretch their wings. "KNOCK IT OFF! GO TO YOUR ROOM! NO TV! NO DESSERT!" So again, I ask, is it them, or me? One mom told me "it's always them" - I like that, but I never, ever feel good at the end of these days. I've never let out a good scream and thought "man, that felt good". In fact, I'm pretty sure I usually un-do any punishing by simply feeling bad, and going into Lyla's room, curling her up on my lap, explaining why mommy got so upset, and then apologizing for my reaction - but not always. On mom-fail days, I stay upset. Because I stay upset, the next little thing she does sends her right back into her time out chair, without any chances. And it's always in these moments that Hannah is at her worst; flailing in my arms or scooting around on the floor begging to be picked up. On mom-fail days, whether it's them or me, it never settles down. It is non-stop, zero tolerance, constant yelling, absolute failure of a day - both with their actions and my ability to handle it.
On top of it, the day doesn't end at bedtime. Hannah has not slept for more than 3-4 hour chunks at night since her arrival 9 months ago, and it never fails that once I climb into our warm, cozy bed, the cries begin. Luckily, she goes back down easily - a quick nursing session or a pacifier-pop - but it's the constant broken sleep that leaves me exhausted and, particularly on these days, frustrated. "Come on, Hannah" I'll grunt from under the covers. Great. Now I'm upset with my little innocent baby after an entire day of pointing my toddler to the time-out chair in her room. All I want is to sleep it off and wake up with a fresh start, but I can't even do that.
Last week seemed like this vicious cycle was on repeat. I wake up tired, but want to have a good day. I decide to surprise Lyla with breakfast in bed. While flipping pancakes, I'm trying to brush off the day before by taking some cleansing breaths and concentrating on today. I start to think of fun things to do with the girls. Maybe the library for some new bedtime stories, and a trip to the mall to treat Lyla to her favorite giant soft pretzel. Just as I'm finished putting together Lyla's breakfast - blueberry pancakes, sliced fruit, and a juice box (usually just used for school), I am so excited to hear that she is awake over the monitor. I grab the tray of food and head into her room. "Good morning my girl! I made you some breakfast to eat in bed for a treat". Aaaaaaaand meltdown. She was so upset because usually when I make blueberry pancakes, I let her put the blueberries in. I can feel my blood start to boil but try to keep my cool, explaining that next time she can help mommy but that I wanted to surprise her. No dice. At this point, Hannah is blaring over the monitor, awake and in need of a diaper change and breakfast. I ended up throwing the pancakes away, which sent Lyla into an even further panicked tantrum. I just walked away, closing the bedroom door behind me when I went in to get Hannah, and had a meltdown myself. It was only 7am.
Last week was particularly bad. The worst I've felt as a parent, the worst I've seen Lyla behave, and the crankiest Hannah has been since her sad-belly days. I was so unbelievably overwhelmed, and on top of if all, sustained a foot injury that has prevented me from training and, potentially, even running the half marathon. As shitty as last week was, it makes me truly appreciate the good days, like today, where Lyla was so kind and sweet, and didn't have one time out. We did crafts, danced, watched TV and ate dessert. Now, the question again, is it them, or me? Sure, Lyla was great today, but I also felt back to my cool-calm-collected ways. So who was last week really about? Either way, I came out of it totally beat up.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Slow Down!
Lately, I've been totally freaking out about just how fast these girls are growing up. Anytime either of them does anything new, I find myself more sad than glad about it - how terrible is that? When Lyla came out of her bedroom dressed from head to toe entirely on her own, I was proud, and then put on a big she-doesn't-need-my-anymore pout. When Hannah started sitting up, I couldn't help but think "didn't you just start lifting up your head" no, more like "aren't I still pregnant?"
I find myself in a bit of a panic, wanting to just freeze time. I'm especially cherishing Hannah, because aside form getting zero sleep, I absolutely love having a baby. So cuddly, smiley, totally dependent on you - it's the best feeling. She'll be 7 months old in about a week - she's more than half way done being a baby! The big first birthday marks the official start of toddlerhood - it's already coming too quickly. I can't believe how much faster it goes with your 2nd child. Everyone has told me this, but I could never imagine that I would blink and 7 months would fly by. I'm sure for me especially this time around seemed faster because of my happiness and exponentially better circumstances. But seriously. 5 more months of having a baby! That seems like no time at all and all I want is for it to slow down.
And Lyla. Oh this child. We watched our wedding video on our anniversary, and I couldn't BELIEVE the difference a year had made. Sure, looking back at pictures I can tell her hair is a bit longer, face has matured a bit, and that she's taller, but there's nothing like listening to the verbal difference. Obviously when you're as lucky as I am to spend every day with your child, you're not going to see these changes happen in such extremes, but watching that video somehow made me feel like I missed it.
Ever since the tragic shooting, I have never been more grateful for my ability to be a stay at home mom. I've hugged them a little longer and have been especially aware of being present with them. It's such a scary thought to know that anything could happen - any day, any time. The fact that this precious time with them seems to be slipping away too quickly makes that thought all the more worse. Days never drag. I am never bored. Even just sitting and staring at them gives me joy - and something to do.
In less than 2 years Lyla will be in school full time, and Hannah will be on her way to starting pre-school. My stay-at-home days are numbered. One thing I've read time and time again is that people on their death beds have confessed that their one wish is that they worked less. I am so fortunate that right now my work is motherhood. It's a full time job that lasts the rest of your life. I have such respect for mothers who have to go back to work after having their babies because I can't imagine how hard it must be to be away from them. I am ever so lucky to have the ability to stay home, and because of it, I work my ass off every single day to be the best mother I can be. I'll never regret my decision to stay home, and the last thing I want is to look back and think I could have worked harder. 2 years will fly by like nothing. How I wish I could freeze this time with them; with Hannah so rolly-polly and playful, and Lyla so sweet and fun.
Too fast, too fast, too fast!
Ever since the tragic shooting, I have never been more grateful for my ability to be a stay at home mom. I've hugged them a little longer and have been especially aware of being present with them. It's such a scary thought to know that anything could happen - any day, any time. The fact that this precious time with them seems to be slipping away too quickly makes that thought all the more worse. Days never drag. I am never bored. Even just sitting and staring at them gives me joy - and something to do.
In less than 2 years Lyla will be in school full time, and Hannah will be on her way to starting pre-school. My stay-at-home days are numbered. One thing I've read time and time again is that people on their death beds have confessed that their one wish is that they worked less. I am so fortunate that right now my work is motherhood. It's a full time job that lasts the rest of your life. I have such respect for mothers who have to go back to work after having their babies because I can't imagine how hard it must be to be away from them. I am ever so lucky to have the ability to stay home, and because of it, I work my ass off every single day to be the best mother I can be. I'll never regret my decision to stay home, and the last thing I want is to look back and think I could have worked harder. 2 years will fly by like nothing. How I wish I could freeze this time with them; with Hannah so rolly-polly and playful, and Lyla so sweet and fun.
Too fast, too fast, too fast!
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Tough Times
It goes without saying that seeing your child in pain is one of the worst things to witness, especially when a quick kiss from mommy doesn't fix the problem.
Hannah is without a doubt one of the happiest, best babies I've ever seen; so smiley, super cuddly, go-with-the-flow...that is, until her belly starts to hurt. Then my poor baby girl is so uncomfortable that she practically turns blue from crying. As much as it hurts her, it may even hurt me more to have to sit back and watch her in such pain & know there is little I can do to comfort her.
Dating back to when she was 2 weeks old, we had our suspicions that her stomach bothered her. This was when the doctor had advised me to cut dairy out of my diet since I'm nursing. It seemed to do the trick for a while, but she suddenly became uncomfortable again. So, all soy products went out the door for me. This barely made a difference, if any.
5 months later with several doctors visits and 2 trips to the ER and we still have no answers as to why our baby girl has this discomfort. It's exhausting to get through what we call a "sad belly day"; both because its hard to watch and because she doesn't let you put her down on these days. She's especially clingy to me when she's not feeling well, which can be difficult when Eric wants to spend time with her and all she does is cry for me.
It's also hard when Lyla needs me. Whether its needing help with a task or just wanting to read books or do a puzzle, it's almost impossible on days where keeping Hannah happy means constant walking and bouncing. I've tried to include Lyla by playing "marching band" around the house where we shake shakers and sing songs as we march around. But I feel terrible telling her that mommy can't do something because Hannah needs me. Ive always said that when moms get pregnant, they should grow an extra set of arms along with their big belly.
Whatever is going on with Hannah's belly is also effecting her sleep. For the last couple of months (where her belly as been at its worst) she has only been sleeping a max of 2 hours at a time, and waking as often as every 20 minutes. Needless to say, it's exhausting.
We have an appointment with the GI specialist next week and all I can do is pray for some explanation. I like to be as organic as possible when it comes to my kids; only giving them medicine when it's extremely necessary, strictly sticking to breast milk instead of formula for the first year, etc - but seeing hannah this way makes me hope that maybe there IS some medicine out there to help her, or that adding formula will help (although doctors doubt it since breast milk is specifically formulated for her)
All I want is an answer. I am going to be extremely upset if we leave that appointment next week with no answers and I have to continue to watch my baby girl go through spurts if such discomfort. It's been one of the most difficult things I've had to go through as a mother.
Hannah is without a doubt one of the happiest, best babies I've ever seen; so smiley, super cuddly, go-with-the-flow...that is, until her belly starts to hurt. Then my poor baby girl is so uncomfortable that she practically turns blue from crying. As much as it hurts her, it may even hurt me more to have to sit back and watch her in such pain & know there is little I can do to comfort her.
Dating back to when she was 2 weeks old, we had our suspicions that her stomach bothered her. This was when the doctor had advised me to cut dairy out of my diet since I'm nursing. It seemed to do the trick for a while, but she suddenly became uncomfortable again. So, all soy products went out the door for me. This barely made a difference, if any.
5 months later with several doctors visits and 2 trips to the ER and we still have no answers as to why our baby girl has this discomfort. It's exhausting to get through what we call a "sad belly day"; both because its hard to watch and because she doesn't let you put her down on these days. She's especially clingy to me when she's not feeling well, which can be difficult when Eric wants to spend time with her and all she does is cry for me.
It's also hard when Lyla needs me. Whether its needing help with a task or just wanting to read books or do a puzzle, it's almost impossible on days where keeping Hannah happy means constant walking and bouncing. I've tried to include Lyla by playing "marching band" around the house where we shake shakers and sing songs as we march around. But I feel terrible telling her that mommy can't do something because Hannah needs me. Ive always said that when moms get pregnant, they should grow an extra set of arms along with their big belly.
Whatever is going on with Hannah's belly is also effecting her sleep. For the last couple of months (where her belly as been at its worst) she has only been sleeping a max of 2 hours at a time, and waking as often as every 20 minutes. Needless to say, it's exhausting.
We have an appointment with the GI specialist next week and all I can do is pray for some explanation. I like to be as organic as possible when it comes to my kids; only giving them medicine when it's extremely necessary, strictly sticking to breast milk instead of formula for the first year, etc - but seeing hannah this way makes me hope that maybe there IS some medicine out there to help her, or that adding formula will help (although doctors doubt it since breast milk is specifically formulated for her)
All I want is an answer. I am going to be extremely upset if we leave that appointment next week with no answers and I have to continue to watch my baby girl go through spurts if such discomfort. It's been one of the most difficult things I've had to go through as a mother.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Letters to Lyla and Hannah
When Lyla was born, I started one of those "Baby's First Year" calendars for her, and I quite literally wrote down everything; from people who visited to each and every new food tasted. Her baby photo album was quickly turned into a scrap book when I decided to cut and paste cards people had given her and add them to the photos, instead of keeping them all in an old shoe box that would sit in a basement and looked at once in a blue moon. However, since she turned one, and the big 1st birthday photos were printed and photo-albumed, I've been slacking.
With all the photos I take and upload to our computer and Facebook albums, I keep thinking "they're there when I need them" ...and now 2 years have gone by without the print out of a single picture to add to her albums. It's even worse with Hannah. I started her baby book the same way I did Lyla's: pee stick (yes, I kept them), ultra sounds and growing belly pictures. However, no actual pictures of Hannah have been printed/added since her arrival! How terrible is that? I immediately upload them all to Facebook and email them to our digital frame, as well as friends and family members, but my laziness has taken over when it comes to taking to trip to the store with my sim card.
So I decided I'll do something new. Something that requires my efforts once a year, instead of every new milestone. (And I'm sure I'll eventually get to printing out the years worth of pictures I need...)
Every year I am going to write each of my girls a letter. A letter that will talk about who they are, favorite toys, acitivites & foods, who their friends are, what we spend our days doing, and even the struggles we may be having (ie. Lyla wanting to wear underwear through the night but unable to keep them dry). This way, each year they can see how they've grown, what new milestones they've reached, and always be able to look back on these younger years. I'd also like to include a photo from the time the letter is written, and maybe a picture they colored or additional photo of a favorite outfit or item. I think that as the years go by and these letters and photos add up, it will tell a cool-tale of my girls and how they've become the people they have. It will also be fun to check in with last years letter to see what new things they are able to do as "big girls" that they may have struggled with the year before.
My plan is to try and write them around the same time each year - whether that be near the holidays to talk about all the excitement and what they may be asking for, or closer to their birthdays to mark the new year. Either way I think the girls will enjoy having them, and I know I will love looking back and re-reading them. You never know the things you may forget! I want to remember every moment with these little girls of mine <3
With all the photos I take and upload to our computer and Facebook albums, I keep thinking "they're there when I need them" ...and now 2 years have gone by without the print out of a single picture to add to her albums. It's even worse with Hannah. I started her baby book the same way I did Lyla's: pee stick (yes, I kept them), ultra sounds and growing belly pictures. However, no actual pictures of Hannah have been printed/added since her arrival! How terrible is that? I immediately upload them all to Facebook and email them to our digital frame, as well as friends and family members, but my laziness has taken over when it comes to taking to trip to the store with my sim card.
So I decided I'll do something new. Something that requires my efforts once a year, instead of every new milestone. (And I'm sure I'll eventually get to printing out the years worth of pictures I need...)
Every year I am going to write each of my girls a letter. A letter that will talk about who they are, favorite toys, acitivites & foods, who their friends are, what we spend our days doing, and even the struggles we may be having (ie. Lyla wanting to wear underwear through the night but unable to keep them dry). This way, each year they can see how they've grown, what new milestones they've reached, and always be able to look back on these younger years. I'd also like to include a photo from the time the letter is written, and maybe a picture they colored or additional photo of a favorite outfit or item. I think that as the years go by and these letters and photos add up, it will tell a cool-tale of my girls and how they've become the people they have. It will also be fun to check in with last years letter to see what new things they are able to do as "big girls" that they may have struggled with the year before.
My plan is to try and write them around the same time each year - whether that be near the holidays to talk about all the excitement and what they may be asking for, or closer to their birthdays to mark the new year. Either way I think the girls will enjoy having them, and I know I will love looking back and re-reading them. You never know the things you may forget! I want to remember every moment with these little girls of mine <3
Friday, October 5, 2012
Adorable, memorable moment
Yesterday, Lyla and I (along with Hannah and Petey in tow) went walking around the neighborhood collecting the freshly fallen leaves. As we strolled along, she looked up at me and said "Know what mom? I could call Eric 'daddy', because he is my daddy, but I'm going to keep calling him Eric because he's always been my Eric."
Gush.
I love the innocence of the 3 year old mind, and I love hearing her little views of the world. She's right, he has always been her Eric. Well, technically, first he was "Era" and then "Eca" - but I think it's funny how she recognizes him as her daddy, but feels an attachment to calling him Eric. Almost like it's a special thing between them, that only they share, because she finished this conversation by saying "Hannah can just call him daddy, but he's my Eric"
<3
Gush.
I love the innocence of the 3 year old mind, and I love hearing her little views of the world. She's right, he has always been her Eric. Well, technically, first he was "Era" and then "Eca" - but I think it's funny how she recognizes him as her daddy, but feels an attachment to calling him Eric. Almost like it's a special thing between them, that only they share, because she finished this conversation by saying "Hannah can just call him daddy, but he's my Eric"
<3
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Feeling Helpless
Lyla has given us a rough few days this week, and admittedly, I've felt a bit helpless. I'm not sure if it's the "normal" 3 year old behavior, her getting sick, or learning lovely new things from other kids at school - but it's been tough.
Yesterday was the worst.
Now, I can deal with the usual toddler-defiance-power struggle-game. But yesterday was different; talking back at every chance, demanding things "NOW", sheer panic when she didn't get her way, and ear curdling screams. And I exhausted every parenting tactic there is. I calmly talked. I gave chances. I gave warnings. I took away dessert. I raised my voice. I sat and rocked with her. I walked away. Nothing was helping, nothing was calming her down. As easy as it would have been to give in and give her dessert before dinner or let her watch more TV - what would that teach her? Nothing. I didn't want her to think that this behavior was okay or would get her what she wanted, and so, I let her scream. I let her be angry. I stuck to my word.
She eventually settled down, fell asleep, and woke up my loving, happy toddler again. But once dinner time approached and she asked about dessert, she was reminded that because of her previous behavior, she was not allowed a dessert. Now, being 3 is all about the power. She wants to be in control, and panics when she's not. So, in my best attempt to distract her, I kindly stated that she could not have dessert after dinner, but tomorrow would be a better day. "What do you think you'll have for dessert tomorrow, Ly?" I asked.
Cue round 2.
"NO! NOT tomorrow! I want dessert NOW! NOWWWWWW!" And there go my ear drums. Once again, I exhaust all methods - calmly explaining, attempting to distract, placing her in time out while she calms down....still nothing. She screamed so loud and so much that I was sure she would come out of it with no voice. I can't imagine what our neighbors were thinking. I felt completely and utterly helpless. I had to stick to my word and show Lyla that she was indeed not the boss, and that this was not okay behavior - but the feeling of not being able to calm my daughter down was the worst. I finally placed her in her room, shut the door, looked at Eric and put my hands up in defeat. For the first time in my journey of motherhood, I didn't know what to do.
I don't know what has changed. Normally, I can talk Lyla down from any tantrum. Even when reminding her of something less favorable, like getting dessert taken away, she usually (so adorably) responds with "I'll just have one tomorrow! Maybe some chocolate! Mmmm!" But this week, her responses are totally out of control, and I feel terrible that I can't help her feel better. She seems to be having a real hard time expressing herself and using her words when something isn't going the way she wants. Even the other day when she was being dropped off after a birthday party, Eric was putting her shoes on so she could walk into the house, and she didn't want them on. So, she started kicking him and melted into a giant puddle of tears and flailing extremities. Hello? Words? "I don't want my shoes on, Eric" would have sufficed - which she normally responds with! I have no idea why the sudden change, and even worse, no idea how to prevent or help it.
Throughout the day, I am constantly giving her positive reinforcement. Anytime she uses manners, says something politely, uses her words instead of actions, does something kind...I always am aware of it and sure to praise her for it. Especially lately, when I feel I'm doing more scolding than praising. Even when talking to Hannah, I usually "chat" about Lyla, saying things like "you have the BEST big sister who is doing a really good job eating her lunch!" Whatever Lyla is going through, I want her to know that Eric and I notice all the good, too.
But this new demanding, overly emotional, defiant Lyla is something we're struggling with. It reared it's ugly face again this morning when she woke up and wanted to watch TV; something we didn't have time to do because it was a school morning. I reminded her of this, and told her that we'd have plenty of time to watch a show later, and maybe even make a special snack to eat, too. But no. "NOW NOW NOW". Luckily, the waterworks managed to stay at bay, but I cringed a little inside at the site of my sweet girl acting, well, not so sweet.
Something's up. She's even been crying when I drop her off at school which she's never done. I made her teachers aware of her new behavior at home, in hopes that they may keep an extra eye on her at school to indicate whether or not something is going on there. Eric and I have talked about trying to give her even more attention at home, in hopes that this all may just be a cry for more.
But this sucks. And I feel helpless. And don't know what to do, for the first time in 3 years.
Yesterday was the worst.
Now, I can deal with the usual toddler-defiance-power struggle-game. But yesterday was different; talking back at every chance, demanding things "NOW", sheer panic when she didn't get her way, and ear curdling screams. And I exhausted every parenting tactic there is. I calmly talked. I gave chances. I gave warnings. I took away dessert. I raised my voice. I sat and rocked with her. I walked away. Nothing was helping, nothing was calming her down. As easy as it would have been to give in and give her dessert before dinner or let her watch more TV - what would that teach her? Nothing. I didn't want her to think that this behavior was okay or would get her what she wanted, and so, I let her scream. I let her be angry. I stuck to my word.
She eventually settled down, fell asleep, and woke up my loving, happy toddler again. But once dinner time approached and she asked about dessert, she was reminded that because of her previous behavior, she was not allowed a dessert. Now, being 3 is all about the power. She wants to be in control, and panics when she's not. So, in my best attempt to distract her, I kindly stated that she could not have dessert after dinner, but tomorrow would be a better day. "What do you think you'll have for dessert tomorrow, Ly?" I asked.
Cue round 2.
"NO! NOT tomorrow! I want dessert NOW! NOWWWWWW!" And there go my ear drums. Once again, I exhaust all methods - calmly explaining, attempting to distract, placing her in time out while she calms down....still nothing. She screamed so loud and so much that I was sure she would come out of it with no voice. I can't imagine what our neighbors were thinking. I felt completely and utterly helpless. I had to stick to my word and show Lyla that she was indeed not the boss, and that this was not okay behavior - but the feeling of not being able to calm my daughter down was the worst. I finally placed her in her room, shut the door, looked at Eric and put my hands up in defeat. For the first time in my journey of motherhood, I didn't know what to do.
I don't know what has changed. Normally, I can talk Lyla down from any tantrum. Even when reminding her of something less favorable, like getting dessert taken away, she usually (so adorably) responds with "I'll just have one tomorrow! Maybe some chocolate! Mmmm!" But this week, her responses are totally out of control, and I feel terrible that I can't help her feel better. She seems to be having a real hard time expressing herself and using her words when something isn't going the way she wants. Even the other day when she was being dropped off after a birthday party, Eric was putting her shoes on so she could walk into the house, and she didn't want them on. So, she started kicking him and melted into a giant puddle of tears and flailing extremities. Hello? Words? "I don't want my shoes on, Eric" would have sufficed - which she normally responds with! I have no idea why the sudden change, and even worse, no idea how to prevent or help it.
Throughout the day, I am constantly giving her positive reinforcement. Anytime she uses manners, says something politely, uses her words instead of actions, does something kind...I always am aware of it and sure to praise her for it. Especially lately, when I feel I'm doing more scolding than praising. Even when talking to Hannah, I usually "chat" about Lyla, saying things like "you have the BEST big sister who is doing a really good job eating her lunch!" Whatever Lyla is going through, I want her to know that Eric and I notice all the good, too.
But this new demanding, overly emotional, defiant Lyla is something we're struggling with. It reared it's ugly face again this morning when she woke up and wanted to watch TV; something we didn't have time to do because it was a school morning. I reminded her of this, and told her that we'd have plenty of time to watch a show later, and maybe even make a special snack to eat, too. But no. "NOW NOW NOW". Luckily, the waterworks managed to stay at bay, but I cringed a little inside at the site of my sweet girl acting, well, not so sweet.
Something's up. She's even been crying when I drop her off at school which she's never done. I made her teachers aware of her new behavior at home, in hopes that they may keep an extra eye on her at school to indicate whether or not something is going on there. Eric and I have talked about trying to give her even more attention at home, in hopes that this all may just be a cry for more.
But this sucks. And I feel helpless. And don't know what to do, for the first time in 3 years.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Mom Really Loses It
The other night, I did something that I hated, and that I rarely ever do; I yelled at Lyla. Sure, she was having her hundredth "3-year-old moment" of the day, and my patience was on E, but what I really hated was how out of control I felt, when normally I am much more capable of keeping my cool.
It was late, already after her bedtime. Eric and I just put Hannah down and were getting the materials together for a special night-time-craft to do with Lyla. It involved the insides of a glow stick, which can be toxic, and Lyla was frustrated that she could not participate in this part of the craft. And she melted, with ear curdling screams. After a particularly rough day with several of these "moments", I had had enough. I got face to face with my toddler, and told her to knock it off. Not only was she frustrated, but so was I, because all I wanted to do was something special with her after a long day. The fear on her face pierced my heart - she's not used to me raising my voice in such a harsh, firm way. More waterworks came from this.
It's not so much that I yelled - I know parents are allowed to be firm with their kids. It's the overwhelming feeling I had at how little patience I had for her behavior. KNOCK IT OFF; those 3 words, words I usually use on the dog, came bubbling up like a volcano ready to erupt. I felt like I had failed as a parent, because I couldn't control it. "Word vomit", as Mean Girls would have called it. If I felt this way, why didn't I just walk away? Go in the other room, take a few deep breaths; just remove myself from the overwhelming feeling I had? I was powerless to my exhaustion, frustration, and overwhelmingly low patience.
I am especially aware of this out of control feeling since I have been practicing more mindfulness and staying present. Those 3 harsh words made me feel like I took several steps backwards. No mama-zen in that moment, that's for sure. I felt like I had undone my entire day; my day of staying calm, my day of explaining Lyla's frustration to her, my day of hard work and patience - it was all gone in my harsh tone. knock it off. Now not only was I frustrated with Lyla, but I was upset with myself.
Eric thought this was actually a good moment - he says it showed that I was human. He said that with the abundance of patience I have, the frustration is bound to build up and come out eventually. True, I guess. And I also guess that I can't be the super-mom I wish to be 100% of the time. In the perfect world, every frustration that came from my toddler's defiance and temper tantrums could be cured through exercise, yoga, and breathing techniques (and maybe the occasional glass of wine) - but the world's not perfect and neither am I.
Needless to say, life went on. We both calmed down, kissed, and made up. We did our craft, and had fun dancing in the dark wrapped in left over glow sticks. I always say that every argument Eric and I get in, we come out stronger. Well, that sort of applies here, too; ever since my "word vomit" episode, I have made a more sincere effort to stay calm, and to take every terrible 3 year old moment for what it is - just that, a 3 year old moment.
It was late, already after her bedtime. Eric and I just put Hannah down and were getting the materials together for a special night-time-craft to do with Lyla. It involved the insides of a glow stick, which can be toxic, and Lyla was frustrated that she could not participate in this part of the craft. And she melted, with ear curdling screams. After a particularly rough day with several of these "moments", I had had enough. I got face to face with my toddler, and told her to knock it off. Not only was she frustrated, but so was I, because all I wanted to do was something special with her after a long day. The fear on her face pierced my heart - she's not used to me raising my voice in such a harsh, firm way. More waterworks came from this.
It's not so much that I yelled - I know parents are allowed to be firm with their kids. It's the overwhelming feeling I had at how little patience I had for her behavior. KNOCK IT OFF; those 3 words, words I usually use on the dog, came bubbling up like a volcano ready to erupt. I felt like I had failed as a parent, because I couldn't control it. "Word vomit", as Mean Girls would have called it. If I felt this way, why didn't I just walk away? Go in the other room, take a few deep breaths; just remove myself from the overwhelming feeling I had? I was powerless to my exhaustion, frustration, and overwhelmingly low patience.
I am especially aware of this out of control feeling since I have been practicing more mindfulness and staying present. Those 3 harsh words made me feel like I took several steps backwards. No mama-zen in that moment, that's for sure. I felt like I had undone my entire day; my day of staying calm, my day of explaining Lyla's frustration to her, my day of hard work and patience - it was all gone in my harsh tone. knock it off. Now not only was I frustrated with Lyla, but I was upset with myself.
Eric thought this was actually a good moment - he says it showed that I was human. He said that with the abundance of patience I have, the frustration is bound to build up and come out eventually. True, I guess. And I also guess that I can't be the super-mom I wish to be 100% of the time. In the perfect world, every frustration that came from my toddler's defiance and temper tantrums could be cured through exercise, yoga, and breathing techniques (and maybe the occasional glass of wine) - but the world's not perfect and neither am I.
Needless to say, life went on. We both calmed down, kissed, and made up. We did our craft, and had fun dancing in the dark wrapped in left over glow sticks. I always say that every argument Eric and I get in, we come out stronger. Well, that sort of applies here, too; ever since my "word vomit" episode, I have made a more sincere effort to stay calm, and to take every terrible 3 year old moment for what it is - just that, a 3 year old moment.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Good Bye?
Since Ben began contacting us again a few weeks ago, we've been battling back and forth about the best way to go about our mess. The mess being that he hasn't seen Lyla in 18 months, me wanting full custody, and him lowering his child support. And what a mess it is.
Initially, he wanted to start seeing Lyla again - minimally. He had the idea to take her to dinner once a month in order to re-establish a relationship, and just have her aware of his existence, basically. But as usual, Ben changed his mind.
He was upset that I wanted full custody. I explained to him that it had nothing to do with me being a bitch, as he would put it, but that he knows nothing about Lyla. If he was ever contacted in a medical emergency, he would have no idea of her allergies, medications, even her height and weight. Shared custody means that both parents are involved in the child's life and able to make legal and medical decisions for her. This is not the case. I chose her doctor, her school, everything. When I asked Ben to tell me one thing about her, his response was "she's blond" ...good one.
From here, he insisted on giving up his rights to her. He said he'd rather have nothing to do with us than to not have any legal custody of her - even though it would not effect his visitation with her whatsoever (if he chose to see her again). He said he'd rather pay nothing (for child support), sign her over, and that she'd be fully mine.
How extreme. What kind of father would rather sign over the rights to his daughter and never see her again, instead of agreeing to giving her mother full custody but still have the ability to see her and be a part of her life?
He then went on to further "rationalize" his decision. He just started a new job and taking college classes. Both part time for now, but will be full time next year. He said he simply would not have the time or money to see her for the next few years, and said he'd rather sign her over than confuse her by starting over when he "had time" or by swinging in and out every few months.
The problem? Signing over a child is easier said than done. Even if both Ben and I agree to it, a judge has to approve the decision, which is a tough thing to get done. I would have to prove that I could fully support Lyla without the help of child support, and also prove a healthy, steady living environment for her. Both which we have, but not enough in a judge's eye. Ideally, when I am working, when Eric and I have been married for another year or two, and the longer Ben goes without seeing her - this is when a judge will be likely to allow Ben to surrender his rights.
So, for now, mainly to keep Ben at bay, we're planning to lower my child support to a more affordable rate for him, and ride out the next couple of years until we would be able to have Lyla to ourselves. What blows my mind is that this is more or less Ben's idea. Before this settlement was made, he had agreed to give me full custody if I lowered child support to practically pennies per week. And now, he'd rather lower it to what the state requires him to pay, just to ride it out and eventually give her up entirely, instead of continuing to pay and see her.
My mind goes in all different directions when it comes to how I feel about all this. On one hand, I am sad. I am sad for Lyla; I will have to one day explain how her father didn't have time to be in her life. I find it sad that a father can let anything come between him and a relationship with his child. But on the other hand, I am happy. I'm happy for our family - because that's just what we can be. We won't have to share Lyla on weekends, holidays or birthdays. She won't have to grow up with two daddy's. But I'm also scared. I'm scared of what she will think when she's older, about the questions she'll ask, and about how it will effect her in the end.
I'm also scared that after all the hoops we've jumped through these past 3 years with Ben, that he will change his mind yet again and keep us jumping. He's so impulsive and all over the place, you never know what his next move will be.
For now, all I can know is that I'm doing what's best for Lyla. Anyone who says they don't have time to share with my precious toddler doesn't deserve to be in her life anyway. Eric and I work hard everyday to give her the things she has: her health, her manners, her playtime, her growth. I can just hope that she grows up knowing that everything I do is for her, and that one day she will understand this whole mess and know she is better off without Ben and lucky to have Eric.
Only time will tell what will happen over the next few years. All I know is that I'm tired of all the back and forth, and if he's really willing to say good-bye for good, then so are we.
Initially, he wanted to start seeing Lyla again - minimally. He had the idea to take her to dinner once a month in order to re-establish a relationship, and just have her aware of his existence, basically. But as usual, Ben changed his mind.
He was upset that I wanted full custody. I explained to him that it had nothing to do with me being a bitch, as he would put it, but that he knows nothing about Lyla. If he was ever contacted in a medical emergency, he would have no idea of her allergies, medications, even her height and weight. Shared custody means that both parents are involved in the child's life and able to make legal and medical decisions for her. This is not the case. I chose her doctor, her school, everything. When I asked Ben to tell me one thing about her, his response was "she's blond" ...good one.
From here, he insisted on giving up his rights to her. He said he'd rather have nothing to do with us than to not have any legal custody of her - even though it would not effect his visitation with her whatsoever (if he chose to see her again). He said he'd rather pay nothing (for child support), sign her over, and that she'd be fully mine.
How extreme. What kind of father would rather sign over the rights to his daughter and never see her again, instead of agreeing to giving her mother full custody but still have the ability to see her and be a part of her life?
He then went on to further "rationalize" his decision. He just started a new job and taking college classes. Both part time for now, but will be full time next year. He said he simply would not have the time or money to see her for the next few years, and said he'd rather sign her over than confuse her by starting over when he "had time" or by swinging in and out every few months.
The problem? Signing over a child is easier said than done. Even if both Ben and I agree to it, a judge has to approve the decision, which is a tough thing to get done. I would have to prove that I could fully support Lyla without the help of child support, and also prove a healthy, steady living environment for her. Both which we have, but not enough in a judge's eye. Ideally, when I am working, when Eric and I have been married for another year or two, and the longer Ben goes without seeing her - this is when a judge will be likely to allow Ben to surrender his rights.
So, for now, mainly to keep Ben at bay, we're planning to lower my child support to a more affordable rate for him, and ride out the next couple of years until we would be able to have Lyla to ourselves. What blows my mind is that this is more or less Ben's idea. Before this settlement was made, he had agreed to give me full custody if I lowered child support to practically pennies per week. And now, he'd rather lower it to what the state requires him to pay, just to ride it out and eventually give her up entirely, instead of continuing to pay and see her.
My mind goes in all different directions when it comes to how I feel about all this. On one hand, I am sad. I am sad for Lyla; I will have to one day explain how her father didn't have time to be in her life. I find it sad that a father can let anything come between him and a relationship with his child. But on the other hand, I am happy. I'm happy for our family - because that's just what we can be. We won't have to share Lyla on weekends, holidays or birthdays. She won't have to grow up with two daddy's. But I'm also scared. I'm scared of what she will think when she's older, about the questions she'll ask, and about how it will effect her in the end.
I'm also scared that after all the hoops we've jumped through these past 3 years with Ben, that he will change his mind yet again and keep us jumping. He's so impulsive and all over the place, you never know what his next move will be.
For now, all I can know is that I'm doing what's best for Lyla. Anyone who says they don't have time to share with my precious toddler doesn't deserve to be in her life anyway. Eric and I work hard everyday to give her the things she has: her health, her manners, her playtime, her growth. I can just hope that she grows up knowing that everything I do is for her, and that one day she will understand this whole mess and know she is better off without Ben and lucky to have Eric.
Only time will tell what will happen over the next few years. All I know is that I'm tired of all the back and forth, and if he's really willing to say good-bye for good, then so are we.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Domesticated
A few weeks ago, "cooking" meant putting something frozen in the microwave, and "baking" meant boxed mixes and pre-cut cookie dough. So, when Lyla started school and I found a few extra hours on my hands, I decided to travel down the path of real, cook-book-opening, from-scratch cooking and baking.
I started slow, literally, by cooking my first few meals in the crock pot. I've cooked several now, and somehow I always manage to misread something; adding things too soon or mixing things in the wrong order. Luckily, all of my trial-run-meals have been edible, and dare I say, good. But beyond breaking out of our same-old food rut, it gives me a sense of pride that I am actually preparing and cooking new meals for my little family. Even though I've been a mom for over 3 years and a wife for just over 1, somehow something as small as cooking makes me feel like these things for the first time all over again.
There's something about the accomplishment. I wake up, pack Lyla's lunch, send her off to school, come home, chop and prepare dinner's ingredients, and spend the rest of the morning playing with my baby girl while the sweet scent of dinner simmering fills the apartment. I love the fact that my husband arrives home from a long day at work with this smell in the air. I love serving him a dinner that I made. Even more, I love following it with a fresh baked dessert - also made by yours truly. Who knew this new domestication could make me feel so accomplished in my everyday life?
It really is the little things <3
I started slow, literally, by cooking my first few meals in the crock pot. I've cooked several now, and somehow I always manage to misread something; adding things too soon or mixing things in the wrong order. Luckily, all of my trial-run-meals have been edible, and dare I say, good. But beyond breaking out of our same-old food rut, it gives me a sense of pride that I am actually preparing and cooking new meals for my little family. Even though I've been a mom for over 3 years and a wife for just over 1, somehow something as small as cooking makes me feel like these things for the first time all over again.
There's something about the accomplishment. I wake up, pack Lyla's lunch, send her off to school, come home, chop and prepare dinner's ingredients, and spend the rest of the morning playing with my baby girl while the sweet scent of dinner simmering fills the apartment. I love the fact that my husband arrives home from a long day at work with this smell in the air. I love serving him a dinner that I made. Even more, I love following it with a fresh baked dessert - also made by yours truly. Who knew this new domestication could make me feel so accomplished in my everyday life?
It really is the little things <3
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Fall
I am so excited that fall is here. The cool, crisp air, apples ready for picking, but most important - the memories to be made with my kids.
When I became pregnant with Lyla, fall was the time of year I had envisioned; little knitted hats and sweaters, being pulled in a wooden wagon through the apple fields, and arriving home to have Mommy bake a homemade pie. Well, that wasn't exactly the way it went these past few years, but I think we're finally there. Maybe it's my happiness and the fact that I'm practicing staying present, maybe it's Lyla's age and watching her excitement each time she finds an apple in the tree like it's the first one she's seen, or maybe it's the fact that for the first time in my life I've actually opened a cook book and feel capable of baking. Whatever the reason, this year feels more special than those before.
I've embarked on my new cooking adventure with Lyla by my side. She's helped me prepare and cook each meal and dessert for the last week. When we arrived home from the Keith's Farm with our bag full of apples on Saturday, Lyla helped me wash and slice each one, and poured and mixed all of our ingredients together for our crisp. I remember doing things like this with my mother - the house smelling deliciously like fall desserts. Now it's my turn to pass on this tradition with my girls.
We spent yesterday making fall decorations of leaves, apples and pumpkins. I couldn't help but get excited for another trip to Keith's for a hayride to the pumpkin patch. I'm so looking forward to painting and carving them with my big girl :) Perhaps I'll even be brave enough to make my own pie with one :-X but in the meantime, the Pumpkin Pie Yankee Candle my fabulous mother in law gave me will have to.
I'm going to make this fall season last as long as possible, cherishing each crisp-sweater-wearing day, because before I know it, it will be I-can't-put-my-arms-down coat and snow season, where I will more than likely go stir crazy in this apartment. So I'll surely be making the most of everyday; jumping in leaf piles, baking up a storm, dressing my girls in to-die-for little outfits - all the things I envisioned nearly 4 years ago are coming true. No better feeling :)
When I became pregnant with Lyla, fall was the time of year I had envisioned; little knitted hats and sweaters, being pulled in a wooden wagon through the apple fields, and arriving home to have Mommy bake a homemade pie. Well, that wasn't exactly the way it went these past few years, but I think we're finally there. Maybe it's my happiness and the fact that I'm practicing staying present, maybe it's Lyla's age and watching her excitement each time she finds an apple in the tree like it's the first one she's seen, or maybe it's the fact that for the first time in my life I've actually opened a cook book and feel capable of baking. Whatever the reason, this year feels more special than those before.
I've embarked on my new cooking adventure with Lyla by my side. She's helped me prepare and cook each meal and dessert for the last week. When we arrived home from the Keith's Farm with our bag full of apples on Saturday, Lyla helped me wash and slice each one, and poured and mixed all of our ingredients together for our crisp. I remember doing things like this with my mother - the house smelling deliciously like fall desserts. Now it's my turn to pass on this tradition with my girls.
We spent yesterday making fall decorations of leaves, apples and pumpkins. I couldn't help but get excited for another trip to Keith's for a hayride to the pumpkin patch. I'm so looking forward to painting and carving them with my big girl :) Perhaps I'll even be brave enough to make my own pie with one :-X but in the meantime, the Pumpkin Pie Yankee Candle my fabulous mother in law gave me will have to.
I'm going to make this fall season last as long as possible, cherishing each crisp-sweater-wearing day, because before I know it, it will be I-can't-put-my-arms-down coat and snow season, where I will more than likely go stir crazy in this apartment. So I'll surely be making the most of everyday; jumping in leaf piles, baking up a storm, dressing my girls in to-die-for little outfits - all the things I envisioned nearly 4 years ago are coming true. No better feeling :)
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