It's not news that Caleb becomes strongly attached to some weird things. He's a passionate kid, but this time he went overboard. Several months ago on a Daddy/son car ride to the grocery store, Matt introduced Caleb to a particular song by asking, "Do you wanna rock?". The song title eludes me at the moment but that is unimportant. Anyway, because Matt is so fun and spunky, he played said song for Caleb while banging the air-drums and energetically slamming the air-cymbals on cue (all while driving, the man must be a superhero). Caleb ate that up! Now, Caleb imitates this each time he hears the song. Cute, right?
Well, it was cute right up until the point where my two-year old became a musical backseat tyrant. Since then, each time we're in the car and the car starts rolling Caleb says, "I wanna rock!" to which I generally oblige because I believe in choosing my battles. But sometimes I'm just plain sick of the song and on a 30 minute drive, listening to the same song more than 4 times makes me consider veering off the road into a tree.
So, I attempt a multitude of tactics. I stealthily stop the CD and flip on the radio while in mid-conversation with Caleb hoping that he won't catch onto my switcheroo. No luck! "I wanna rock, I don't like this rock, I want different rock!" comes blaring in my ears from behind. I try to find a station playing music in the same genre as the song Caleb would like to hear, nope. Same response except louder. Then I try to make it fun, "Listen Caleb, it's party-dance music" as I whip my head back and forth and try to look like I'm at the hottest rave in town. Sometimes this will distract him for a little while but then Caleb remembers that he has an opinion and he wants it to be heard. So King Caleb begins screaming at the top of his lungs from his five-point harnessed, cow-print throne.
At this point, the whole thing has become a parenting issue, right? I can't possibly give in now even if I'd really like to because, well that would only teach him that yelling and being rude gets him exactly what he wants. Blast! I hate those parenting moments where I can hear my conscience advising me to do the "responsible" thing when all I want to do is make. the. noise. stop! So, like the award-winning mom I aim to be, I choose to make my child suffer through the remainder of the car ride with no music at all. Not that I didn't try. I did the whole, "It's Mommy's turn to choose a song, I'll listen to this then we'll listen to your music." And the "Caleb, your choices are to listen to Mommy's music or listen to nothing at all." Caleb then gives me the run-around, "okay, no music," I turn the music off, "NO, NO, NO, ROCK, I WANNA ROCK! I DON'T WANT THIS SONG!", I turn my music back on, "NO. OTHER. ROCK. MOMMY!" Then through gritted teeth, "Caleb, if you do not stop screaming, I will turn the music off altogether and we will have no music for the rest of the car ride."
Oh, I should let you know that through all of this, Gideon is sleeping. I want to keep him sleeping. I'm becoming angrier thinking that Caleb's antics might awaken him. But finally I turn the music off, forced to follow through on my threats. You know, for the sake of consistency and what not. I've read that's the key to discipline. I'd like to throw that key onto the railroad tracks and watch it get crushed by a fast moving train at this point but I journey forth in my consistent-motherly way. This means I sat through a full fifteen minutes of my son screaming, like horror movie screaming, at me for the remainder of our drive home. It was tortuous for both of us. Someone please give me a sticker on my star chart for being sticking to my guns, anyone? Please. At least then it would feel somewhat worth it.
After that horrific incident, I now just let the kid be my maestro. I don't really fight it. I can't. I surrender. It's fine. I'll listen to the same song repeatedly for the rest of my earthly life as long as I don't have to endure the screaming again. Recently, on a lengthy drive home from a play date, Caleb of course wanted "to rock!" but then he fell asleep. After about five minutes, I stopped the CD and turned on the radio. Caleb roused from his sleep to demand his song in a rather groggy mumble. I promptly turned his song back on, he promptly dozed back to sleep, and then I enjoyed the remainder of the drive in peace. Can you blame me?
Showing posts with label Caleb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caleb. Show all posts
Friday, March 9, 2012
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Because I Need a Reminder
I need a reminder that all my hard work is not going to the wayside. I need a reminder that Caleb is two and irrational and impulsive and illogical. And that it's completely normal. I need a reminder that somewhere in his adorable skull, there are synapses forming that will allow him to one day be completely responsible and wonderful and good at decision-making. Right now it's really hard to see that that day will come. Ever. Right now it feels like I'm the mom every other mom is completely thankful not to be since my kid can be so wild and out-of-control. Right now I'm the mom who would have gladly crawled into a deep, dark hole this morning because my kid ran amuck and refused to stop tackling his playmate.
So, because I need a reminder that it's really and truly not that bad all of the time, here's a list of my firstborn's recent cuteness:
-he calls a toucan a 'tooth-can'
-he calls a caterpillar a 'cat-ah-pillow'
-When he has something stuck in his teeth, he looks up at me with pleading eyes and says, "I need floss!"
-When he wants a certain anything he begins with "How 'bout...(fill in the blank with a snack, tv show, toy)"
-He exclaims "Holy mackerel!" at appropriate times.
-Recently, after he fell off of his toy truck, I asked what he was doing. He responded with, "falling."
-When I'm walking up or down the stairs with him and he wants me to carry him he says, "carry you" and holds his arms up waiting for me to pick him up.
-A couple of weeks ago, he would randomly put on Mr. Potato Head's glasses and just go about his business all nonchalantly.
-At 3am this morning when he wandered into our bedroom, he laid still on my chest for a few minutes, matter-of-factly kissed me on the cheek, then put his head back down.
Parenting is a tough gig! I just need to remain cognizant of the rewards even when the challenges seem to overshadow them.
So, because I need a reminder that it's really and truly not that bad all of the time, here's a list of my firstborn's recent cuteness:
-he calls a toucan a 'tooth-can'
-he calls a caterpillar a 'cat-ah-pillow'
-When he has something stuck in his teeth, he looks up at me with pleading eyes and says, "I need floss!"
-When he wants a certain anything he begins with "How 'bout...(fill in the blank with a snack, tv show, toy)"
-He exclaims "Holy mackerel!" at appropriate times.
-Recently, after he fell off of his toy truck, I asked what he was doing. He responded with, "falling."
-When I'm walking up or down the stairs with him and he wants me to carry him he says, "carry you" and holds his arms up waiting for me to pick him up.
-A couple of weeks ago, he would randomly put on Mr. Potato Head's glasses and just go about his business all nonchalantly.
-At 3am this morning when he wandered into our bedroom, he laid still on my chest for a few minutes, matter-of-factly kissed me on the cheek, then put his head back down.
Parenting is a tough gig! I just need to remain cognizant of the rewards even when the challenges seem to overshadow them.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Like Father Like Son or So he Hopes
Okay, he can hang with the military stuff, but you won't find any Madden games under this roof. Matt prefers RPG's or what those of us not in his world would call role-playing-games. I know you automatically envision "Dungeons and Dragons" and a 12-year old boy wearing a hooded cape while wielding a sword. Scratch that vision, my husband does still have his dignity. He doesn't play D&D but he plays this text-based game (I know, text based? I had never heard of such a thing either before I met Matt.) that could probably rival it. I won't bore you with details but basically you can cast spells and gain confidence or something like that. Oh, and there are wizards involved.
As of late, Matt's evening gaming consists of playing "Team-Foretress-2" which he lovingly refers to as "TF2." This is the type of game where he gangs up with others from out in the webisphere and commands them to "protect my flank" and warns them that there's a "spy medic" lurking somewhere. He literally says these things, as in out loud, in an urgent tone while wearing the gigantic headset you see him donning in the photo above. I'll stop here, my point has been made.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure Matt dreams of the day when the boys will be old enough to be interested in such geekiness. So, as a mother might paint her young daughter's nails dreaming of the teenager to come, Matt has this (see picture below):
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| noob! |
If this is what the boys become interested in when they're teens, at least I won't have to worry about dating. ;)
Friday, August 5, 2011
A Birth Story- Two Years Later
Caleb turned two this past Monday! Unbelievable! I've said it before and I'll say it again; time flies! Fast.
Stats: -36 in. tall
-30 lbs
-loves: yogurt, his brother, trains, and screaming
-hates: vegetables, being told no, and bedtime
He's two and not-so-terrible I suppose. He's a handful and he's mischievous but for the most part, he's a really fun kid.
To commemorate his day of birth, I figured I'd go ahead and write his birth story.This way I won't feel super-guilty for having Gideon's birth story in writing and not having Caleb's. I cannot promise absolute accuracy considering I've probably lost half of my brain matter in the past two years but I'll do my best.
July 31, 2009
3:00pm: I've been having contractions on and off throughout the day but now is when I realize this is probably the real deal and not just Braxton-Hicks.
3:30pm: Matt gets home from work, I let him know I'm thinking we'll probably be having a baby soon and that we really need to finish painting the hallway before that occurs.
4:30pm: I begin questioning if I'm really in labor or not. The contractions don't seem super-regular nor are they all that painful at this point.
6:00pm: Matt convinces me I should eat something before we start painting and I oblige. I think I had a granola bar and some other snack-type thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't consume a full meal.
7:15pm: We get the drop-cloths down and get to painting.
8:30pm: As time wears on, my contractions start getting more intense and I find myself having to sit down, paint-roller in hand, to breathe through the contractions. Of course I get right back up and keep painting. I know that movement coaxes labor and I'm all about that.
9:15pm: He finishes painting and tidies up while I ride out the now pretty intense contractions downstairs. I try to lie down but I can't get comfortable and I certainly can't sleep.
9:30pm - midnight: This time consists of me sitting on an exercise ball and the floor while breathing through contractions. I spend some time in the bathtub which I don't find particularly soothing. Matt starts timing contractions and they're not following the "typical" pattern. They seem to be on top of each other and the duration is long. I sit on the floor for a while and breathe. Matt makes sure I'm staying hydrated. I start making some groaning noises while contracting. Matt tells me he'll call the midwife around 12:30 if things keep up the way they've been going.
August 1, 2009
12:30am: Matt gets in contact with the midwife and tells her what's up. They agree that we'll meet at her office for her to "check my progress" and then decide what to do from there. We do some last minute packing and head out. The drive down town is rough. Sitting still while experiencing contractions is uncomfortable. Matt talks me through the contractions and we make it to the office. We wait on the front steps until the midwife arrives to unlock the door.
1:00am: I'm on the exam table and the midwife lets me know she'd like to check my dilation both while I'm having a contraction and while I'm not. She checks me first while I'm not contracting and it's painful! I say, "If you tell me I'm less than 4cm, I'm running away." I know that this would mean I'm heading back home to wait it out, I don't want to do that. Not to worry, she tells me that I'm "5 to 6 with a bulging bag of waters" and that she doesn't need to check me while contracting. Thank God! I'm relieved that things are progressing well. I sit on the waiting room floor while the midwife calls the hospital to let them know she'll be admitting me. When she gets off the phone she seems a little concerned. I ask, "No rooms with tubs available?" She says, "You'll be lucky if you get a room at all!" Apparently, there are a TON of people having babies. We call our parents to tell them we're going to go have our baby and then send out a pre-typed text to our friends to let them know the same.
1:30am: We arrive at the hospital and start the check-in process. The person collecting IDs asks me multiple times if I need a wheelchair. I assure her I'm just fine and head over to the elevator. We are pointed toward the admissions area. While sitting with the admissions clerk, she tells me how many women are giving birth and that they're waiting on a room. Matt senses my concern and says, "You don't need a room, all you need is me and the Lord!" Preach it brother! I'm immediately calm and the admissions clerk praises Jesus. We all smile and she sends me out into the hall to wait.
1:45am: I'm sent to triage for them to start my antibiotic IV (I'm GBS positive and this is protocol). I labor a while in the triage room and listen to the couple on the other side of the curtain. She's pregnant and fell down the stairs but luckily everything is okay. I change my clothes and breathe through intensifying contractions as I wait to be transferred to a labor/delivery room.
2:15am-4:00am: I make the trek down the hall to a real room. One without another couple in it. One with dim lighting and quiet. The midwife hunkers down in the rocking chair, the labor and delivery nurse goes in and out of the room. Matt sits down next to the window. I pace. A lot. Back and forth. Over and over. I have an inner-dialogue going, "you can do this, the pain will end, almost over." I weigh in my mind if this type of pain would be worth an epidural or spinal block; a resounding NO. This is tolerable pain because it comes in waves as opposed to being continuous and I can't imagine not being able to walk around freely. Matt offers me water frequently and talks to me when he senses I might need some encouragement. The midwife pretty much leaves Matt and me to do our husband-coached birthing thing. She throws out some comments about how close I am to having this baby (I'm thankful to hear that). Every so often, I have to lie on the bed while they listen for the baby's heart tones and take my blood pressure. I say at one point that I think I have to use the bathroom and not in the empty-my-bladder type of way. The midwife tells me she's pretty sure I probably don't have to do what I think I have to do and that instead, it's most likely the baby causing this sensation. I head to the bathroom anyway. I can't help but push while I'm contracting and the midwife calls out from the room, "Don't labor in there too long, I don't want to deliver the baby on the toilet!" I'm convinced at this point that there won't be any moving-of-bowels and I come back into the room. The L&D nurse mentions that things could go more quickly if they break my water. The midwife quickly interjects and lets her know that "They don't want to do that." Woohoo, she is abiding by and supporting my birth plan! The pushing sensation gets stronger and stronger. I wrap my arms around Matt's neck and sort of hang my weight on him as I squat a little and yell, "This kid needs to come out now!" and I give one good push.
4:00am: It's show time! The midwife checks me (ouch!) and tells me I'm "9cm with a cervical lip," to which I reply, "You can push that out of the way, right?" She confirms that's the case and she tells me I can push with the next contraction. The hospital bed is neat in that rather than the lower half coming completely off as do most labor beds, the lower half on this bed drops a few inches. This allows me to be in a semi-squatting position. I'm scooted all the way to the edge of the bed and my legs are up with my feet resting on the now-dropped lower half of the bed (Sorry if you can't envision that. Just know that this position is FAR superior to the commonly used flat-on-your-back-completely-fighting-gravity position).I do some pushing. The midwife tells me I'm pushing well and that if I keep it up it won't be long until I see my baby. This is good to hear but I'm getting tired and sometimes feel like I might pass out while pushing. I have to be reminded to breathe so as not to faint. I push and then kiss Matt during pushing breaks (if you're done gagging yourself, please keep reading). Matt continues to give me water (way to go coach!). The labor/delivery nurse has to feel my abdomen to tell me if I'm still contracting during pushes so I know to push longer. I guess I stop feeling the contractions during pushing or something because when they asked me if I was still contracting I just say, "I dunno". Anyway, at one point when I'm saying, "I can't do this much longer, I can't do this for 6 hours (um..that comment would be because the midwife previously told me how she caught a baby a couple of weeks before after the woman pushed for over 6 hours)," the midwife tells Matt to look at the head. Matt does and tells me that he can in fact see the head. I hear a loud knocking at the door and a familiar voice, "Permission to enter?", the midwife and nurse look at me and I shout, "No Dad, I'm pushing!". The nurse heads to the door and makes sure my dad finds his way back to the waiting room. Then they tell me to reach down and feel my baby's head. Which I do. Amazing. This is really going to happen soon! Yay! So, I push to the point of crowning and then my contractions stop! I demand to push without contractions at this point and I'm given the okay.
5:08am: One hard push. There's my baby's head and then the rest of him just like that. He's born "en-caul", meaning that he's still in that "bulging bag of waters" I had earlier. A gush of fluid happens just as he comes out so his head and feet our still veiled in the bag. Pretty cool. They remove this from him and place him immediately on my chest. He looks up at me with wide eyes and blinks a few times. He's relatively quiet other than some grunting. As I'm basking in this moment, the midwife makes a comment about him being "gray and floppy." They cut the cord (haha, first time I think I've used that phrase in the literal sense) and take him over to the warming table. Commence freak-out. I start breathing heavily and asking what's wrong. I see the nurse over at the warming table with my baby and I hear her call a "code" over the PA system. Not okay. What is going on? A bunch of people rush into the room. The midwife stays by my side to calm me down. Matt stays close to our newborn, stroking his hand. I ask if Caleb's being resuscitated, the midwife doesn't exactly answer but tells me that things will be okay and that I need to breathe. I'm semi-hysterical, crying a little, confused, unsure what to think. The pediatrician enters the room, the sea of people parts, the pediatrician looks at my little man cub and proclaims, "There's nothing wrong with this baby, he's fine." Apparently, in the time it took for the pediatrician to come down to my room, Caleb pinked up, started crying, and showed good muscle tone. I take a deep breath. They give my baby back to me, I settle in to nurse him for the first time and all is well with the world.
Stats: -36 in. tall
-30 lbs
-loves: yogurt, his brother, trains, and screaming
-hates: vegetables, being told no, and bedtime
He's two and not-so-terrible I suppose. He's a handful and he's mischievous but for the most part, he's a really fun kid.
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| Caleb at 2 years old. |
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| Caleb at 1 year old. |
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| Caleb at 4 days old. |
July 31, 2009
3:00pm: I've been having contractions on and off throughout the day but now is when I realize this is probably the real deal and not just Braxton-Hicks.
3:30pm: Matt gets home from work, I let him know I'm thinking we'll probably be having a baby soon and that we really need to finish painting the hallway before that occurs.
4:30pm: I begin questioning if I'm really in labor or not. The contractions don't seem super-regular nor are they all that painful at this point.
6:00pm: Matt convinces me I should eat something before we start painting and I oblige. I think I had a granola bar and some other snack-type thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't consume a full meal.
7:15pm: We get the drop-cloths down and get to painting.
8:30pm: As time wears on, my contractions start getting more intense and I find myself having to sit down, paint-roller in hand, to breathe through the contractions. Of course I get right back up and keep painting. I know that movement coaxes labor and I'm all about that.
9:15pm: He finishes painting and tidies up while I ride out the now pretty intense contractions downstairs. I try to lie down but I can't get comfortable and I certainly can't sleep.
9:30pm - midnight: This time consists of me sitting on an exercise ball and the floor while breathing through contractions. I spend some time in the bathtub which I don't find particularly soothing. Matt starts timing contractions and they're not following the "typical" pattern. They seem to be on top of each other and the duration is long. I sit on the floor for a while and breathe. Matt makes sure I'm staying hydrated. I start making some groaning noises while contracting. Matt tells me he'll call the midwife around 12:30 if things keep up the way they've been going.
August 1, 2009
12:30am: Matt gets in contact with the midwife and tells her what's up. They agree that we'll meet at her office for her to "check my progress" and then decide what to do from there. We do some last minute packing and head out. The drive down town is rough. Sitting still while experiencing contractions is uncomfortable. Matt talks me through the contractions and we make it to the office. We wait on the front steps until the midwife arrives to unlock the door.
1:00am: I'm on the exam table and the midwife lets me know she'd like to check my dilation both while I'm having a contraction and while I'm not. She checks me first while I'm not contracting and it's painful! I say, "If you tell me I'm less than 4cm, I'm running away." I know that this would mean I'm heading back home to wait it out, I don't want to do that. Not to worry, she tells me that I'm "5 to 6 with a bulging bag of waters" and that she doesn't need to check me while contracting. Thank God! I'm relieved that things are progressing well. I sit on the waiting room floor while the midwife calls the hospital to let them know she'll be admitting me. When she gets off the phone she seems a little concerned. I ask, "No rooms with tubs available?" She says, "You'll be lucky if you get a room at all!" Apparently, there are a TON of people having babies. We call our parents to tell them we're going to go have our baby and then send out a pre-typed text to our friends to let them know the same.
1:30am: We arrive at the hospital and start the check-in process. The person collecting IDs asks me multiple times if I need a wheelchair. I assure her I'm just fine and head over to the elevator. We are pointed toward the admissions area. While sitting with the admissions clerk, she tells me how many women are giving birth and that they're waiting on a room. Matt senses my concern and says, "You don't need a room, all you need is me and the Lord!" Preach it brother! I'm immediately calm and the admissions clerk praises Jesus. We all smile and she sends me out into the hall to wait.
1:45am: I'm sent to triage for them to start my antibiotic IV (I'm GBS positive and this is protocol). I labor a while in the triage room and listen to the couple on the other side of the curtain. She's pregnant and fell down the stairs but luckily everything is okay. I change my clothes and breathe through intensifying contractions as I wait to be transferred to a labor/delivery room.
2:15am-4:00am: I make the trek down the hall to a real room. One without another couple in it. One with dim lighting and quiet. The midwife hunkers down in the rocking chair, the labor and delivery nurse goes in and out of the room. Matt sits down next to the window. I pace. A lot. Back and forth. Over and over. I have an inner-dialogue going, "you can do this, the pain will end, almost over." I weigh in my mind if this type of pain would be worth an epidural or spinal block; a resounding NO. This is tolerable pain because it comes in waves as opposed to being continuous and I can't imagine not being able to walk around freely. Matt offers me water frequently and talks to me when he senses I might need some encouragement. The midwife pretty much leaves Matt and me to do our husband-coached birthing thing. She throws out some comments about how close I am to having this baby (I'm thankful to hear that). Every so often, I have to lie on the bed while they listen for the baby's heart tones and take my blood pressure. I say at one point that I think I have to use the bathroom and not in the empty-my-bladder type of way. The midwife tells me she's pretty sure I probably don't have to do what I think I have to do and that instead, it's most likely the baby causing this sensation. I head to the bathroom anyway. I can't help but push while I'm contracting and the midwife calls out from the room, "Don't labor in there too long, I don't want to deliver the baby on the toilet!" I'm convinced at this point that there won't be any moving-of-bowels and I come back into the room. The L&D nurse mentions that things could go more quickly if they break my water. The midwife quickly interjects and lets her know that "They don't want to do that." Woohoo, she is abiding by and supporting my birth plan! The pushing sensation gets stronger and stronger. I wrap my arms around Matt's neck and sort of hang my weight on him as I squat a little and yell, "This kid needs to come out now!" and I give one good push.
4:00am: It's show time! The midwife checks me (ouch!) and tells me I'm "9cm with a cervical lip," to which I reply, "You can push that out of the way, right?" She confirms that's the case and she tells me I can push with the next contraction. The hospital bed is neat in that rather than the lower half coming completely off as do most labor beds, the lower half on this bed drops a few inches. This allows me to be in a semi-squatting position. I'm scooted all the way to the edge of the bed and my legs are up with my feet resting on the now-dropped lower half of the bed (Sorry if you can't envision that. Just know that this position is FAR superior to the commonly used flat-on-your-back-completely-fighting-gravity position).I do some pushing. The midwife tells me I'm pushing well and that if I keep it up it won't be long until I see my baby. This is good to hear but I'm getting tired and sometimes feel like I might pass out while pushing. I have to be reminded to breathe so as not to faint. I push and then kiss Matt during pushing breaks (if you're done gagging yourself, please keep reading). Matt continues to give me water (way to go coach!). The labor/delivery nurse has to feel my abdomen to tell me if I'm still contracting during pushes so I know to push longer. I guess I stop feeling the contractions during pushing or something because when they asked me if I was still contracting I just say, "I dunno". Anyway, at one point when I'm saying, "I can't do this much longer, I can't do this for 6 hours (um..that comment would be because the midwife previously told me how she caught a baby a couple of weeks before after the woman pushed for over 6 hours)," the midwife tells Matt to look at the head. Matt does and tells me that he can in fact see the head. I hear a loud knocking at the door and a familiar voice, "Permission to enter?", the midwife and nurse look at me and I shout, "No Dad, I'm pushing!". The nurse heads to the door and makes sure my dad finds his way back to the waiting room. Then they tell me to reach down and feel my baby's head. Which I do. Amazing. This is really going to happen soon! Yay! So, I push to the point of crowning and then my contractions stop! I demand to push without contractions at this point and I'm given the okay.
5:08am: One hard push. There's my baby's head and then the rest of him just like that. He's born "en-caul", meaning that he's still in that "bulging bag of waters" I had earlier. A gush of fluid happens just as he comes out so his head and feet our still veiled in the bag. Pretty cool. They remove this from him and place him immediately on my chest. He looks up at me with wide eyes and blinks a few times. He's relatively quiet other than some grunting. As I'm basking in this moment, the midwife makes a comment about him being "gray and floppy." They cut the cord (haha, first time I think I've used that phrase in the literal sense) and take him over to the warming table. Commence freak-out. I start breathing heavily and asking what's wrong. I see the nurse over at the warming table with my baby and I hear her call a "code" over the PA system. Not okay. What is going on? A bunch of people rush into the room. The midwife stays by my side to calm me down. Matt stays close to our newborn, stroking his hand. I ask if Caleb's being resuscitated, the midwife doesn't exactly answer but tells me that things will be okay and that I need to breathe. I'm semi-hysterical, crying a little, confused, unsure what to think. The pediatrician enters the room, the sea of people parts, the pediatrician looks at my little man cub and proclaims, "There's nothing wrong with this baby, he's fine." Apparently, in the time it took for the pediatrician to come down to my room, Caleb pinked up, started crying, and showed good muscle tone. I take a deep breath. They give my baby back to me, I settle in to nurse him for the first time and all is well with the world.
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| Caleb a few minutes old. |
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| A mother is born. |
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| A family is born. |
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Nipple Confusion
You might think with a title like that, this post is going to be about my nursing infant. You'd be wrong! This is yet another post about my rambunctious toddler.
Caleb has this Cabbage Patch doll. Recently, he picked up the little fella' and held him, hugged him, then proceeded to stick him on the changing table. He announced, "diaper!" So, I figured I'd go along with his game of make-believe and said, "Caleb, your baby is hungry, what are you going to do?" He responds as I'd expect, "eat moke (rhymes with 'poke', means 'milk')!" I nod in agreement, the baby needs some milk. I wonder what Caleb will do, put the baby to his own chest maybe or hand the baby to me to nurse? Well, imagine my surprise when Caleb gently lays the doll on the couch, lifts the doll's shirt, leans down, places his mouth on the doll's chest, makes a loud slurping sound and excitedly repeats, "eat moke!" Hm..we're gonna have to work on that one!
Caleb has this Cabbage Patch doll. Recently, he picked up the little fella' and held him, hugged him, then proceeded to stick him on the changing table. He announced, "diaper!" So, I figured I'd go along with his game of make-believe and said, "Caleb, your baby is hungry, what are you going to do?" He responds as I'd expect, "eat moke (rhymes with 'poke', means 'milk')!" I nod in agreement, the baby needs some milk. I wonder what Caleb will do, put the baby to his own chest maybe or hand the baby to me to nurse? Well, imagine my surprise when Caleb gently lays the doll on the couch, lifts the doll's shirt, leans down, places his mouth on the doll's chest, makes a loud slurping sound and excitedly repeats, "eat moke!" Hm..we're gonna have to work on that one!
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| I should also probably explain the importance of not introducing solid food until the baby is older. |
Friday, June 17, 2011
Strange Love
My toddler becomes attached to weird things. A few months ago it was a neti-pot. He even slept with the thing for a couple nights. And if he hadn't slept with it, his first request in the morning was for "pot!"
I'm hoping that in his teenage years, pot won't be the first thing on his mind in the morning or on his mind at all, ever...ah! I can't really go there right now or think about the "just say no to drugs" talk and possible experimentation we may have to deal with. Can I please put my kids in a cage around ten and not let them out until they're about nineteen? I so don't want to deal with real-life, big-world issues with my babies! I digress.
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| Caleb's 20-month shot with Neti-Bear or would it be a Teddy-pot? |
Anyway, on a recent trip to BJ's, Caleb decided a large jug of salsa was his new-found buddy. He was clinging to it in the front of the cart so tightly and contentedly that Matt didn't see it to ring it up at self-checkout. After scanning everything and getting it all back in the cart, Matt spotted Caleb with his new BFF and had to convince Caleb to give up "Sauce, Sauce, Sauce" long enough for a store clerk to ring it up. Luckily, the guy was quick, so Caleb got his pal back before throwing an all-out tantrum.
While loading the car, we semi-attempted to get it away from him before the drive home but then decided it wasn't worth the fight. So, our little man clung to his chunky, red companion the whole twenty minute drive home and then refused to let go to eat his lunch. So, they ate lunch together. I opted not to let him nap with the salsa. Fortunately, he did not fight me on that decision. I'm happy he's such a lover, even if the objects of his affection are a wee bit odd.
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| Caleb and his bulk-sized bud. |
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Rear Facing Car Seat: Protecting my Kids and my Appetite
My kid's a mooch. Maybe this is unique to him but more likely it's typical toddler behavior. Anyway, if he sees someone eating something, he wants it. Even when he doesn't really want it (which is particularly sad when you're eating something you really like and offer it to him only for it to be tasted enough for him to decide he doesn't like it which happens to also be just enough for you not to want to eat it after him). Because of this I may or may not, on occasion (see: frequently), eat food out of his line of vision (I refuse to call this "hiding while eating"). Maybe this is typical mom behavior, but more likely I'm just super-stingy with my food.
So, I was having a difficult day- a combination of sleep deprivation, a tantruming toddler, and a fussy baby. I decided the perfect distraction from all of this would be to get out of the house and hit up Target for a random smattering of things. I grabbed one item at Target and then the remaining list of items I had committed to memory completely escaped me. I became more frustrated at that point than I had been when I resolved that getting out of the house would be a good remedy for frustration.
I debated about then walking down to the other end of the strip mall to find some books for Caleb at Barnes and Noble. Being exhausted, I decided I'd rather put both kids back in the car and drive there. Immediately following getting both kids snugly in their car seats, Caleb starts urgently yelling something unintelligable. I made sure I hadn't pinched him in the buckle or that he hadn't hurt himself in some way, then realized he was yelling for a plastic ring/link thingermajig that I found sitting inches from his foot. I promptly returned it to him. He calmed down.
At this point, I was in no mood to drive down to the bookstore, schlep both kids into the store, and so forth. Instead? I made a beeline for the Golden Arches. Nothing like some fries and a hot fudge sundae to make it all better. I ordered, paid, collected my happiness-in-a-bag, parked the car in the lot, and ate away my troubles. All while my mooch of a toddler was none the wiser in his rear facing car seat. A big thank you goes out to car safety experts who advocate keeping your children rear facing for as long as possible, in turn allowing me to wallow in self-pity and high-fat foods on-the-go, without sharing.
addendum: Unfortunately, this may not go on for much longer. Caleb is getting better at identifying scents and when the fry-aroma wafted into the backseat, he did request to "eat lunch" more than once. Of course this still didn't convince me to share. Though I did offer him a healthy snack when we returned home.
So, I was having a difficult day- a combination of sleep deprivation, a tantruming toddler, and a fussy baby. I decided the perfect distraction from all of this would be to get out of the house and hit up Target for a random smattering of things. I grabbed one item at Target and then the remaining list of items I had committed to memory completely escaped me. I became more frustrated at that point than I had been when I resolved that getting out of the house would be a good remedy for frustration.
I debated about then walking down to the other end of the strip mall to find some books for Caleb at Barnes and Noble. Being exhausted, I decided I'd rather put both kids back in the car and drive there. Immediately following getting both kids snugly in their car seats, Caleb starts urgently yelling something unintelligable. I made sure I hadn't pinched him in the buckle or that he hadn't hurt himself in some way, then realized he was yelling for a plastic ring/link thingermajig that I found sitting inches from his foot. I promptly returned it to him. He calmed down.
At this point, I was in no mood to drive down to the bookstore, schlep both kids into the store, and so forth. Instead? I made a beeline for the Golden Arches. Nothing like some fries and a hot fudge sundae to make it all better. I ordered, paid, collected my happiness-in-a-bag, parked the car in the lot, and ate away my troubles. All while my mooch of a toddler was none the wiser in his rear facing car seat. A big thank you goes out to car safety experts who advocate keeping your children rear facing for as long as possible, in turn allowing me to wallow in self-pity and high-fat foods on-the-go, without sharing.
addendum: Unfortunately, this may not go on for much longer. Caleb is getting better at identifying scents and when the fry-aroma wafted into the backseat, he did request to "eat lunch" more than once. Of course this still didn't convince me to share. Though I did offer him a healthy snack when we returned home.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
My Almost-Two-Year-Old
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| Caleb a year ago |
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| Caleb today |
Pros
-Caleb can successfully communicate his desires
("Mommy, snuggle?")
-Caleb is an adept and speedy mover
("Caleb, go upstairs so I can change your diaper.")
-Caleb is a super-affectionate big brother
(as he gently pats his brother's back, "Pat baby.")
Cons
-Caleb can successfully communicate his desires
("I hear you, you want MORE pretzels!")
-Caleb is an adept and speedy mover
("Get over here. Stop running away!")
-Caleb is a super-affectionate big brother
("Your kisses are so sweet, but you keep leaving snot on your brother's head.")
You get the gist...with all the new and wonderful things Caleb learns and does, challenges come along with them. Oh and that whole "terrible twos" thing. He's most definitely at the height of his training for that. *sigh*
Anyway, I'm awed by his capabilities but there's that nostalgic part of me that misses when I could tuck him in the crook of one arm, gaze down at his tiny face, and wonder what he'd be like once he could talk and walk. Sometimes, that time seems to have come incredibly too fast for my liking.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Manipulation 101
I tend to take pictures of my boys in this pose:
Apparently, Caleb has caught on.
Recently, on a morning like any other, the three of us were playing on the living room floor.
Caleb looks up and demands, "Hold!"
I'm pretty clueless at this point, "Hold what?"
"Hold baby!"
"You want to hold the baby?"
With a mysterious grin, Caleb replies, "Yes!"
Aw, my little guy wants to love on his brother. **warm fuzzies**
"OK, climb up on the couch and I'll let you hold the baby."
With Gideon in his lap, Caleb makes his next request.
"Cam-ra, cam-ra, pits-err."
"You want Mommy to take a picture?"
There's that
So, of course I oblige because even though I know the kid is really only looking for an opportunity to swipe my camera (which he makes glaringly obvious as he waits for the flash to go off and then nudges his brother off his lap and lunges toward me), it's still awfully cute. Agreed?
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Monday, April 4, 2011
A Baby no More?
Caleb turned 20 months three days ago. Wow! Time certainly flies and it's so hard to believe that this child will be 2 years old in a mere four months. He's quickly outgrowing his 18 month old clothing but I refuse to purchase new winter clothes. So come on spring! Hopefully this warm weather will stick around and I can do some clothes shopping for my little man. I'll be buying clothes in a size 2T. Seriously?! Anywho, it's crazy to think that this time last year Caleb wasn't walking, giving kisses, or requesting his favorite snack. Now, he's running, constantly kissing his baby brother on the head, and frequently asking for "pret-zahs." So while babyhood may be behind him, I have a hunch that he's not quite ready to toss out the status. See proof below.
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