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.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
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.
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