Author: Doser3

Another Day, Another Adventure

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It’s never ending and it’s always something new. That’s motherhood! It’s not always exciting and fascinating. Sometimes it leaves me feeling downtrodden and weary, but I’ve come to look forward to the next adventure on my walk down Mommyhood Lane.

Henry is 6 weeks old today! I can’t believe how quickly time has flown and it makes me happy to know that I’m home with him especially when you consider that maternity leave in the US is merely 6 weeks and I was preparing myself to go back to work at this time with Davey.

Henry is sleeping better at night (last night we were at 4 hour intervals) and he’s just growing into this wonderful little man. I relish the fact that I’m a part of his life and I get to call myself his mother even on the days when he decides to go through 4 outfits because he’s had diaper blow outs like today. Sheesh!

Davey, on the other hand, is a different story. He’s well past the diaper blow outs, but still in the diapers. He’s getting physically bigger and is quite the intelligent little boy. One day we’re making muffins in the kitchen and he’s reading a cookbook and the next day I’m cleaning out egg salad from his nostrils. Yes, you did read that correctly. I’m not sure what the fascination is these days with cramming things up the nose. I’m not really sure why any toddler seems to enjoy doing that. For those of you who have a toddler who seems to have completely avoided this phase, count your blessings. It’s rather disgusting to have my child sneeze on me two hours AFTER I’ve cleaned out his nose, and be covered in snot laced egg salad. You can gag at that…I am!

But I guess one of the things I’m loving about my adventures is the fact that no matter where I turn, whether it be in my house or outside in the world, I find some little item that makes me smile. Even on the days when I’m exhausted with a toddler who refuses to take a nap, I can’t help but chuckle when he grabs his Bible and tells me he needs Jesus.

And then there are the days that I’m scrambling to get ready for church and I slide my foot into a pair of shoes only to discover that it’s become a garage for Matchbox cars. It’s the little things that impact me the most.

Henry is starting to smile. He rolled over three times all by himself last week! How crazy is that?!?!? 5 weeks old and he’s rolling over. Davey was a walker at 9 months, so am I to expect the same from Henry? Who knows!?!?! I’m in no hurry because if I could really just bottle up these days, even the nights when I’m getting no sleep, I would gladly do it in a heartbeat and revisit them.

Yesterday, I opened up my nightstand drawer only to find a piece of paper that Davey had colored on. Was it meant to be a gift for me? Maybe not, but it still made me smile to know that even when I am not physically with my boys, they are constantly around me. How blessed and fortunate I am!

There are days when I can’t wait to see what the next adventure to unfold will be. Do I lose sleep over them? Not really. What a truly wonderful life I have.

A Whole New World

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I consider myself to be the writer in the family. I’m not necessarily all that great at it, but I do enjoy it and I try to put forth the effort to write daily. A lot of times I hit your typical writer’s block and feel that I am less that enthusiastic about writing or that I’ve perhaps lost my ability to really communicate fluently and gracefully. I’ve often found myself reading a lot of old classics just so that I can possibly tap into the vibe of eloquent writing and colorfully displaying how I’m truly feeling through my writing. This past week, my husband decided to tap into my “vibe” and he spilled forth a beautiful and heart warming display of how becoming a parent has changed his life and his perspective as well as that of mine. He actually took a few moments to share it with the world on Facebook, but for those of you who perhaps didn’t see it, let me share it with you here.

“As I sit here with my both of my boys, I can’t help but smile watching them. As a parent, the love you have for your children consumes your life, and you realize that this is a glimpse into what God’s love is towards each of us. I realize I didn’t remotely understand that until Davey came into our lives, now with Henry I have an even better understanding because you can see how you can love each equally, but differently.”

Wow! How profound, poetic, insightful, and heartwarmingly true is that statement?!?!?! I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Our lives have been turned upside down becoming parents. You quickly learn that the things that once seemed important have become trivial. You look at these wonderful little human beings, human beings with yours and your partner’s traits, and think, “how is it possible for someone like me to create something as wonderful as this?” I’m constantly in awe of both of my babies. I’m in awe of God’s love towards me and my husband, that he would grace sinners like us with such wonderful little gifts and entrust in us to be the parents He has always deemed for us to be.

Last night, after the third time of waking with Henry, I prayed to God. I prayed that He would guide me and give me strength to work through the sleepless nights, to not despair, and not fret. Even on the fourth time, as I had tears rolling down my cheeks, I managed to push away the thoughts that were trying to seep into my head; thoughts like, “what was I thinking by becoming a mother,” and “I’m a horrible mother who cannot even comfort her own infant son.”

We’re living in a whole new world, my husband and I. A world with new loves, new adventures, new enlightenments, and new phases. It’s not always an easy trip, nothing really ever is, but how wonderful it is that we have the opportunity to go on this trip; a trip called “parenthood”.

Good Night, Sweetheart

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I’ve found myself singing that old Sha-Na-Na song, “Good night, Sweetheart”, when trying to put Henry to bed. I’ve actually found myself doing a lot of things over the past three weeks in an effort to put Davey to bed at night. Lately, I’ve felt like sleeping at night is more like a chemistry experiment, as opposed to just getting in my nice warm bed and closing my eyes and drifting off. And let me just say, I HATED Chemistry. I sucked at it, couldn’t stand it, and was beyond being excited when those days of my high school were over.

You see, here’s my issue, and it’s the same issue countless other parents experience…getting your child to sleep.

Some days I wish I had a time machine and could perhaps just go back and literally watch what my husband and I did with Davey in order to get him to sleep at night. Other days I really wish I’d done a better job of documenting his sleep patterns, but who would have really thought that would come in handy? I’ve even scoured through this blog to see if I had posted in advice on getting a baby to sleep. The only thing I found was that Davey HAD to be swaddled. It was the only way he would sleep. Henry? Not so much. So, now I feel like we’re starting over again, which technically we are.

Henry sleeps, but it’s not a quiet sleep. He’s a grunter and a moaner and it takes some time for him to fall asleep. Davey would immediately go back to sleep after he was swaddled and nursed. It was pretty easy peasy and I even found myself jumping up some times at night just to check on him because he was such a quiet sleeper. Not the case with Henry. I’m having to figure out a way to tune out all the grunts just so that I can get some sort of shut eye!

We’ve tried the swaddling. We’ve tried the rocking. We’ve tried the white noise (which by the way worked in the hospital on his 2nd night). We’ve tried his crib. We’ve tried the bassinet. We’ve tried giving him a bottle of breast milk. We’ve tried everything and what we seem to find right now that works the best (although not as good as anything did with Davey) is to put him in the Mamaroo alongside my part of the bed, turn it on, and let him go to sleep. Even then, he stills has the occasional grunt and moan, but not as bad as when he’s lying out flat on his back.

I’m sure I’m going to get some stunned comments about this post. I’m sure there will be some mother(s) out there who feel that I’m practicing unhealthy and perhaps unsafe sleep with Henry. I can assure you, we’ve taken every precaution necessary, but we ALL (including Henry) need some sleep.

I’ve googled possible diets I should be on in the event that it’s something I’m eating that’s passing through my breast milk that’s keeping him from sleeping. I believe he does have acid reflux as he want lie out flat to sleep and anytime we try to put him that way he immediately starts spitting up and then develops the hiccups that of course seem to anger him and keep him awake. I’m pretty adamant about breast feeding Henry, but I wonder if there is perhaps a type of formula I could try as a supplement?

So, with this blog, I’m really looking for some help out there, Moms. I know it’s early and I know I shouldn’t expect for him to be sleeping through the night quite so soon, but he should still be sleeping and not have to sleep on an incline. Any suggestions of what to try? And please, I’m really not interested in being berated or criticized for the fact that he sleeps in a Mamaroo right now. I don’t anticipate this lasting forever.

Much thanks!

Real World Multi-Tasking

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I’m a little late on this post, but seeing as how the photo is still circulating through the web and in discussions with some of my fellow moms, I figured it was safe to blog about real world multi-tasking and not the type that Gisele Bundchen subscribes to.

Shortly before Christmas, Gisele Bundchen (supermodel and wife of New England Patriots quarterback, Tom Brady) tweeted a picture of herself as she was nursing her daughter. She titled the photo: “Multi-tasking”. Problem is, she wasn’t actually multi-tasking, it was more like she was being multi-tasked on. While nursing her daughter, Gisele had her head flung back so her golden tresses could be styled, and her make up applied, but she didn’t stop there. She had yet a 3rd person who was giving her a manicure. As a side note, let me say kudos for the fact that she is nursing her daughter and not ashamed to show it.

In light of her version of multi-tasking, I decided I would drop her a quick little note that describes a day in the life of a normal, day-to-day stay at home mom who does not have the luxury of having extra personnel to help out with the day. So, Gisele, should you decide to really know what multi-tasking as a mom is all about here’s my past few days with a 27 month old and a 3 week old. Ready? Go!

Multi-tasking is when you’re trying to deal with tech support on your computer, while also nursing your three week old, and paying bills.

Multi-tasking is when you’re nursing your three week old, while also changing the diaper of your 27 month old.

Multi-tasking is when you’re nursing your three week old, cooking dinner, and cleaning up from the disaster the dog left at the trash can.

Multi-tasking is when you’re nursing your three week old and cleaning off crayons from the wall while also making sure that your 27 month old stays in the time out he was placed in for causing you to multi-task this issue.

Multi-tasking is when you’re able to write this blog, while nursing your three week old, and making sure that your 27 month old is happily watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Multi-tasking is when you’re changing your three week old’s diaper while in the bathroom because you’re also potty training your 27 month old.

Multi-tasking is when you’re able to give your three week old a bottle while also folding clothes.

Multi-tasking is when YOU are the one physically doing multiple tasks, NOT when you’re doing one task while other people complete the rest.

So, Gisele, please think about the rest of us moms who don’t have your millions of dollars before you decide to insult us by throwing out a picture of your supposed “multi-tasking” abilities. Perhaps you could even pull the word up in a dictionary to find out the true meaning in order to use it correctly.

Marking Territories

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Everyone told me to be prepared for this. For the past 3 weeks, I’ve bragged about Davey NOT behaving as everyone said he would. From day one, he held his little brother lovingly, would greet him in the mornings with a handshake and a, “nice to meet you, Henry.” I was just so proud and knew for certain that my sweet Davey would stun the world. Unfortunately, I’ve allowed myself to live in an altered reality, at least in my head.

Today marks the first day of me operating solo with both of my boys. Henry woke me at 5:30, so after nursing him, I climbed into the shower, then trudged downstairs for a cup of coffee and my 30 minutes of Bible study. It’s a new day in a new year, so why not start it off structured and organized, right? Davey slept until almost 8 am which means he missed seeing his daddy this morning. I did my normal morning routine of singing my own personal take on “Good Morning”, from the musical Singing in the Rain, and dressed Davey. As a side note, when I wake him he requests “Good Morning”.

So, Davey and I talked during breakfast. We counted, said our ABCs, and sang a couple of songs, all of which we’ve done PH (moving forward, this stands for Pre-Henry). It wasn’t until Henry started crying, that the demeanor of my cute and sweet little two year old morphed into something I’d hoped we’d never encounter…the Jealousy Monster.

This morning, all I’ve heard is Davey say that he doesn’t like Henry. I’ve watched him scowl when I would pick up Henry to nurse him. “No, Mama, no. Not feed Henry.” I’ve tried to read to Davey while nursing Henry (which worked last week), but instead I got, “mama is Davey mama, not Henry.” I told Davey I could still read to him, which seemed to be fine until Henry became fussy again. I told Davey I needed to change Henry’s diaper, “no, mama, not change Henry diaper. put him in floor.” I’m shocked, although I shouldn’t be. Everyone told me Davey would start becoming territorial.

Over the weekend, I was paged upstairs to Davey’s room while my husband was putting Davey to bed. I handed off Henry and went into Davey’s room. He wanted mommy to read to him! How wonderfully sweet, I thought. So, I read to him, but when I would try to leave I was met with tears and sobs followed by, “mommy, hold me. Mommy, I love you. Mommy, don’t leave me. Mommy, please come back, I be a good boy, please, mommy.” It tore me up! I eventually had to leave to nurse Henry, so my husband took over with Davey. I listened through the monitor as my husband explained to Davey that mommy still loved him, but she also loves Henry. At first, it felt so good because it meant Davey needed me, but lately I feel bad because I can’t let everything be about him anymore.

And as if I needed something more on my plate, Henry has decided that today is the day he MUST be held. I’ve bragged about the fact that he seems to be more independent than Davey was, that he’s content to be in the pack and play or the Mamaroo, but not today. Much like Davey, Henry seems to be marking his territory while thumbing his nose at his big brother. It’s going to be a fun, fun world in the Doser household moving forward.

And That’s A Wrap

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I’m always torn when the Christmas holiday comes to an end. There’s a side of me who is anxious to have my house back in some semblance of order, but then there’s the side who’s regretful as to how quickly the time passed and what I didn’t get to do. This year, thanks in no small part to the birth of Henry, a lot of the plans were left to the wayside.

We did; however, have the opportunity to make cookies with Davey. I did at least get two Christmas trees up (leaving the other 5 packed away in the attic for another year of hibernation). We were able to celebrate Christmas with my family, but as for my husband’s family in Western NY, we were forced to celebrate with them via Skype and Face Time.

Decorating Cookies
Decorating Cookies

I’d had grandiose plans of getting cookies and milk out for Santa and reading Twas the Night Before Christmas and The Christmas Story (directly from the Bible in Luke Chapter 2). I thought this year would be a great year to start that tradition with Davey. He loves to read and it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Alas, that was not to happen because Christmas Eve already seemed much too packed for him, not to mention the fact that he didn’t take a nap so he was suffering from a quadruple dose of the Terrible Twos.

Christmas has started taking on a new meaning for me, the older I’ve become and especially since I’ve become a mother. Gone are the days when I was anxious to open presents. Instead, they’ve been replaced with the joy of seeing my son open his presents. I loved seeing his expression, his genuine happiness and sincere hugs and “thank yous” to those who bought him gifts. I’ve enjoyed watching old classics that I grew up on like “Frosty the Snowman” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, with my son. He comprehends so much and nothing brought a tear to my eye more than the fact that he watched Charlie Brown so much, he was then able to learn the words to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

Unwrapping Presents
Unwrapping Presents

Fortunately, we have a wonderful church family who have been able to step in while I was on bed rest before Henry was born. Davey learned the true meaning of Christmas through them and even brought his Bible to me during the Christmas season and asked for me to read the story of Jesus’ birth. So, I did get the opportunity to read it to him, just not in the Norman Rockwell romantic way of sitting by the fire with our warm socks on, a cup of milk, cookies placed strategically on the table beside the fireplace, and Christmas music playing in the background.

As with everything in life, I have these grand visions and when I don’t seem to accomplish them I feel like I’ve had a huge let down, like my balloon has been deflated prematurely. I felt this way as I undecorated one of our Christmas trees yesterday. I took a moment to look at the new ornaments we’d added this year…one for Henry and his first Christmas, another for Davey (these two courtesy of my mom and dad), and three new “handmade” ornaments from Davey. I smiled as I remembered how excited he was to bring them home from church and school and how he’d chosen exactly where they needed to be hung.

Another Christmas has come and gone. We’ve added a new member to our family and celebrated our many blessings with family and friends. I’ve already started planning for next year, Henry’s first to actual participate, and I’m feeling with joy and excitement with the new memories we’ll be creating. And to all of you, I hope that your Christmas was as stressed and relaxing, happy and boisterous, and memorable and loving as ours.

First Week is in the Books!

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I often spent many a night before Henry was born wondering how we were going to handle two children in the house. I pondered how difficult it would be with a newborn and even worried about my two year old becoming more rebellious than normal. I imagined everything I possibly could, most of which was bad, before we were discharged from the hospital. As the nurse was transporting me down to the car, my newborn son cradled into my arms, an immense fear seemed to take hold of me and I felt as if a heavy boulder was pushing down on my chest. Where was all of my excitement and bliss about my sweet little baby? Where were all the daydreams about a happy, romantic family ala the days of Norman Rockefeller or the Waltons? All feelings I’d had when my son was first born and placed into my arms quickly dissipated and reality set in. Could I do this? Well, let’s just fill you in on week one…

My husband had to work all week. There wasn’t a grace period of sorts like there was with Davey. He’s been promoted since the days when Davey was born and with that promotion comes much larger responsibilities. If he were in his old job, he would have been home, but if he were in his old job, I wouldn’t be a stay-at-home mom, either. So, Tuesday started out the first official day of being home with Henry and with Davey and it was a piece of cake. Davey had school, so my husband went into work late to take him. My mom and dad came to stay with me and help out with Henry. Piece of cake. Flash forward to that evening when my husband came home from work and informed me that he had to be in Pinehurst, NC for a job all day on Wednesday (a 5 hour drive from our house). As a side note, I hope the project manager for this job gets a bag of poop from Santa. Because of this job, the rest of the week became a catastrophe.

Wednesday morning, my husband took me and Henry to Henry’s first doctor’s appointment and my dad stayed with Davey. Thanks to the C-section and the pain medication, I was unable to drive us. At least the one side perk to this day was that Henry had gained 4 ounces in 2 days! He IS my little porker. After depositing us back at home with my dad, my husband drove back to work, got his rental car and took off east bound and down for NC. He was not to return until 8 o’clock that evening. Thankfully, my mother had arrived in the afternoon and we had a wonderful dinner. Now here’s where the week gets better (insert sarcasm) and once again I blame it on the Pinehurst trip. Did I say that I wanted Santa to leave the project manager a bag of poop? I did? Well, let’s make that a BIG bag of poop.

Thursday morning, my husband walked out the door for work only to find that the rental car he was driving had been broken into. Sigh. So, between entertaining my 2 year old and nursing my 6 day old, I had to call the police, file a report, get my husband back here, have forensics go over the car, contact the rest of the board on our HOA (I’m one of the V.P.’s), get a post on our neighborhood Facebook page, and call a locksmith. I hope this thief gets just as big a bag of poop as the project manager in Pinehurst. And oh, by the way, my parents informed me they could not come over first thing on Friday morning to help because their freezer had gone out and they needed to find a way to salvage a few thousand dollars worth of food. Again…sigh. Surely, Friday would be better!

Friday rolls around and to start the day off on the right note, Henry had started sleeping 4 hour increments at night! Woo hoo! Unfortunately, my husband didn’t get to really enjoy the extra sleep seeing as how he had to be on the road at 4:30 for another day of travel that probably would not end until after 8 o’clock again. It was ok, because I was hitting my stride with a toddler and a newborn. So, just when I thought everything was under control, we lost power. I called the power company while dealing with an antsy toddler and a screaming newborn only to have the lady tell me there was no power outage. I’m sorry!?!? Did we forget to pay our powerbill? Come to find out there was a fire at a local substation. We were without power for 3 hours. And while at first I became frantic, I quickly slid into play mode with my 2 year old while my one week old slept. The other plus side to the day was that at least my husband was able to come home early and we could go to a family Christmas party where I was informed that I didn’t look like I’d just had a baby a week before. SCORE! Insert a HUGE happy smile and even a happy dance.

So, long story short, I survived the first week. Davey is adapting very well to having a little brother. When Henry cries, he says, “Don’t cry, Henry, it be ok.” Every morning he greets Henry with a handshake and a “nice to see you, Henry.” Henry seems to enjoy the Mamaroo which means my hands are free to do a lot more. It may not be as glamorous or romantic as what’s portrayed in Hollywood, but it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever had. Here’s looking forward to the rest of our lives.

Welcome, Henry

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I should have known Friday the 13th wasn’t just any typical day.  At least it definitely wasn’t a typical day for me.   This past Friday the 13th was to see the birth of my second son, Henry.   And although the day to be special, I still started out the day with it being typical.   Henry was to be born via a scheduled c-section, one I’d had before.   I’dchosen the c-section because it was not unchartered territory.  I knew what to expect and for me the unexpected is not something I want.   

You see, I’d heard stories about women in labor for hours and I really didn’t want any part of that.  Yeah, there’s a recovery time to the c-section, but with my last one it was minimal and very much bearable.  Again, I knew what I was getting myself into or so I thought.   you’d think I would learn to calculate in the unexpected, but I didn’t.  

My husband and I woke, showered, and started the process of getting the car loaded, Davey dressed, and the dog to the vet.   What we didn’t expect was for me to start contracting at 8 am.   Henry knew it was to be his birthday and was getting tired of waiting.   So, after dropping Davey off with my aunt, we went to the hospital an hour earlier than was to be expected, all the while I was trying to breath and calm myself.   Darn it for not attending any Lamaze classes.  My breathing techniququa was eased upon old episodes of “ER”.  Yes, please laugh and tell me I desethey the pain.   

Immediately, I was given a room in OB Triage where I was hooked up to a fetal monitor.   It was determined that I was contracting every 2 minutes.  Wonderful!   And to make things even better, my cervix was closed tight (much like it was with Davey)!   Fabulous!  And to add even more to that, I wasn’t going to receive any pain medication!   I was to endure this?   Obviously, the doctors and nurses were unaware to my low tolerance for pain.   

After 2 hours of contracions (not including those that had started while still at home), I take into the OR where I was given the greatest relief of the day…a spinal agent that numbed me from just below my breasts to the tips of my toes.  I felt like I was in heaven.   The surgery began.   I felt the same tugging and pulling as before.   Again nothing unusual.  And within a few minutes, Henry was born.  

It’s amazing some of the things that a mind forgets about in 2 years.  I remember the birth of my first son.   I remember it was quick and he didn’t scream or cry a lot.  I remember being able to see him and immediately kiss him although I wasn’t able to hold him.   What I don’t remember is really anything else like the OR, the nurses, the procedure.   This time I was a lot more alert.   Everything from the blue and white round lights that were stationed above my abdomen that allowed for a form of a mirror for me to see what was happening, to the smell of something burning and the intense feeling of nausea that was rolling over my body.   

When Henry was born, he was covered in pee and poop as he seemed to lose control of his bodily functions when he was expelled from the womb.   Within seconds of his birth, I became tired and started dry heaving.  My body wanted to vomit, but I couldn’t feel anything except for the need to vomit.  Tears rolled down my eyes and I prayed for God to just let me pas out.  I’m a wimp, I know.  I was administered an anti-nausea medication through my IV (it took the nurses 4 times to get an IV in me pre-surgery without my veins popping.  My arms and hands are still showing those bruised affects).  My husband took Henry and left the room while the doctor and nurses continued to work on stitching me up and at some point I fell asleep or passed out.  I did awake before being wheeled into the recovery room where my mom, dad, and husband sat with Henry.

Did I want to hold him?   No!   I felt like I couldn’t even raise my hand and that at any given point I was going to vomit.   A half an hour rolled by and I was finally able to hold my beautiful baby boy.   Beautiful is an understatement.   

Henry is the spitting image of his big brother.   His eyes are blue/grey.  His hair is brown.  He has his father’s chin, and the most wonderful capability to look at me and make me feel that my world is at peace.   Friday the 13th is a superstitious day, but for me it has become the most memorable one I’ve ever encountered.   

It was more of a painful road than I had anticipated, but totally and completely worth it.   Take a look for yourself.   I am one blessed woman!

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Leaning Back

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I received my January issue of Parents Magazine in the mail today.   For the first time in what has seemed like a while, I was able to immediately sit down and start perusing through the pages.   Of course, it helped that this issue seems to be a lot smaller than the others (meaning I felt like I could QUICKLY make my way through the magazine).  

I came across an article that caught my attention because it had a subtitle that was meaningful to me.   It’s something that my husband and I have discussed as recently as Monday night when it comes to parenting (not raising) Davey.   He’s hit the Terrible Twos, well he’s actually be in this stage for a while, but for some reason it seems like it’s getting worse.   Maybe it’s just my perspective because I can’t be as active with him as I once was (final days of pregnancy #2 impeding my abilities).  He’s become more temperamental and impatient, even screaming when he doesn’t get his way.   He lies on the floor and kicks his feet, has started hitting (mostly me, which we’re working to curb), and is becoming quite defiant.   So what gives?   I think this article summed a lot of it up.   It’s titled, “Why We Need to Lean Back (from our kids)”. 

We seem to be running ourselves ragged parenting our children.   I know I am and I’m only raising one at this point.   This article suggests that perhaps it’s time for me to be less hands-on, something my husband discussed with me on Monday night.   The article talks about the pressures parents feel to invest every amount of energy into our children and their futures.   I know I’m guilty of that!  Being a stay-at-home mom makes it a lot harder on mothers, or at least that’s how I feel.  We’re trying to compensate for variables that other children who go to school/daycare may receive.   

I’m constantly racked with guilt about if I’m doing enough where raising Davey is concerned.  I have some mothers and friends who pass judgment on the fact that I chose to be a stay-at-home mom.   Some believe I’m causing irreparable harm to my son because he’s not socializing on a day-to-day basis with other children.  It’s forced me to seek out activities outside of the home for him.   From the moment I became a SAHM, Davey and I were enjoying story time at our local library.   He was 4 months old at that point, but I was eager to make sure that I was still giving him enough social interaction.   I was still eager to make sure that since I had chosen to no longer have a career outside the home, that I would turn raising my son into a career.   I made myself be hands on.   Actually, I think I guilted myself into being hands on and from that moment forward I’ve become the mom that seems to micromanage every waking moment of his life.   I can’t do that anymore especially with Henry on the way in two days. 

Is it too late to right the ship?  I don’t think so, but I’ve decided to do more “leaning back” and let Davey decide what he wants to do.   I still find ways to structure his day, even if he we’re unable to really go out of the house.   I still allow him to have an hour of television time (perhaps more if I’m sick – and I know I’ll get some judgments from other moms here), but what used to be is no more.   Instead of telling him we’re going to read a book, I turn the television off and I sit down and read a book, sometimes an adult book, which spurs him to bring books to me so that I can read to him.   He even sits on his own little couch and reads some of his books (since we’ve read them so many times and he knows them by heart).

When I want to do crafts with him, I go to the kitchen table and pull out the crayons and paper and I start coloring.   If he wants to join me, he does; otherwise, he does his on activity.   When he plays outside, or with his basketball goal, or his Matchbox cars, I use that opportunity to do some of my chores, like laundry and dishes.  It’s only been a couple of days, but already it seems like there’s a difference in his attitude.  The fact that I was inhibiting his independence, I believe, was really forcing him to rebel.  

My mother worked out of the home and my brother and I went to daycare.   She or my dad picked us up after work.  My mother cooked dinner, my dad played with us, we ate dinner as a family, and then we did our own thing.   My brother and I learned to amuse ourselves, to be self-sufficient, and to solve our own problems.   For so long, I’ve felt that I owed my son more than what my parents gave to me, but what I really owe him is my unconditional love and support.  

He’s a good kid, a smart kid, but with a mama who might be just a bit too involved in every challenge my son faces.  I wish I had started this approach sooner than just 2 days ago, seeing as how my attention will DEFINITELY be divided in 2 more days, but better late than never.   And oh, by the way, since I decided to “lean back” with Davey, he’s figured out how to pedal his tricyle all on his own.   It’s something I’ve worked on since this summer.   Maybe this will help in the potty training arena as well! 

My Sensitive Little Man

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

If my husband knew I were writing a blog about our 2 year olds’ sensitivity, he’d probably give me grief.   I guess I really never understood,or perhaps I underestimated, Davey’s level of emotional comprehension.   We used to worry that he didn’t understand pain, as it’s very unusual for him to cry even when injured.   Truthfully, it used to worry us, but not so much anymore.  

Of course these days, Davey’s had to deal with my emotional roller coaster especially on these final few weeks of my second pregnancy.   He’s seen me cry more, although I do try to leave the room if I feel the tears coming on.   He’s seen me get upset and lose patience.  He’s seen me exhausted.  Frankly, he’s had to deal with mommy’s entire emotional spectrum, but he’s handled it pretty well. 

Last week, I recorded “Mickey’s Christmas Carol”, which of course is Disney’s version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”.  I thought how wonderful it would be for him to watch especially since he’s a HUGE Mickey Mouse fan.   What I didn’t anticipate was the fact that my two year old was able to completely understand what was going on.   And why didn’t I anticipate that?   He’s a very smart child, very intuitive, and always eager to know more.   He’s constantly questioning things and doing his best to regurgitate what he’s learned.   So, why wouldn’t the movie have an emotional impact on him?  

He was glued to the television for the entire 30 minutes of the production and when the Ghost of Christmas Future showed what was to come, Davey seemed to take it to heart.   It wasn’t so much Scrooge would die alone, as it was that Davey understood what was to happen to Tiny Tim.   As he watched Mickey kneeling at Tiny Tim’s graveside, Davey climbed into my lap and said, “No, Mama, Mickey sad.  Tiny Tim go to Heaven.”   And he put his arms around my neck and hugged me.  

How did my son know this?   My husband and I have never really talked about life and death.   I love to tell him stories of my younger brother who died of leukemia.   He’s been with me to my brother’s grave to put balloons and flowers on it.   Perhaps his memory is so astute that he remembers all of this.   I never cry at my brother’s grave, but I do become slightly misty when I tell Davey that his uncle is part of his namesake.  

I smile, though, as I’m writing this because I’m proud of my son for having a sensitive side, an emotional side, a side that can hurt and understand even emotional pain as complex as that of losing a loved one.   I smile because I also know that my husband and I are doing a good job raising him to try to deal with all of life’s little nuances.   I smile because I also know that my husband and I are doing a good job in raising him as a Christian boy.  

We haven’t watched Mickey’s Christmas Carol again.   Not because I don’t think it’s acceptable, but more so because we all have been just slightly too busy preparing for Henry’s impending arrival.   I am concerned that Davey may cry when he sees Mickey at Tiny Tim’s grave again.   I don’t like seeing my baby cry, but to know that it’s not because of fear but because of a level of sympathy and love makes me feel good as a mom.