Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast...

Dear TIH,
I don't even try to hide the fact that I was not really a baby person before I became a mother.  Whenever I would hold a friend's baby before becoming a mother myself, it was as though the baby could sense I was uncomfortable and he or she would promptly scream their heads off.  Even in the first weeks of your life, every time I held your tiny little body close to mine, I was so scared that I was "doing it wrong," that I would "break" you somehow, that you also could sense I was really not any good at this.

On one such occasion, feeling the anxiety which was all too familiar in those days, I had finally gotten you to go to sleep in the middle of the day.  I looked down at the smallness of you and was dumbfounded how such a tiny little thing could be so overwhelming for me.  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and before I knew it, I was silently crying as I held you.  I felt like SUCH a failure.  And I whispered to you, "I'm sorry about all this.  I can't wait until you get bigger."

And, you did get bigger.
You grew and grew and grew.

You learned.  You walked and talked and did all of the things I was longing for when you were that tiny baby in my arms.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

It all happened SO fast.
And today - you are four.

I love that you're growing.  Watching you grow is one of the great privileges of my life.  And, I love that we've gotten to grow together.  I got to grow from a sort of selfish woman who didn't really have any idea what it was like to take care of anyone else into someone else entirely.

Your mom.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

So, thanks buddy.  Thanks for letting me watch you grow.  Thanks for teaching me in your little way to be the woman that I am today.

I know you're excited by how big you're getting and how much you're learning.  You tell us every day about the new "big boy" things you can do.  And truthfully, it breaks my heart a little bit.

Buddy, I have to tell you, it's not so scary for me that you're little anymore.  It's actually much scarier how fast the time is going.  So...if it isn't too much to ask - slow it down just a bit.

Because as it turns out, I can wait for you to be bigger.

Love,
Mommy

From this year's photo shoot with Rosser Photography.
Stephanie, I am forever indebted to you for these priceless and beautiful memories.

The beauty of uncertainty...

On Friday, I bounded out to my husband's car to collect The Incredible Hulk out of his car seat and immediately rummaged through his backpack to see what precious little artwork he carried home with him.  The crafty wannabe in me lives for the moments when I get to see his adorably created art projects covered in tempera paint and macaroni.

Instead.  I found this:

(Upper left corner.  TIH drew himself a sister.)

Sigh.

Here's the thing.  This has been on my mind a lot lately.  I have this interesting and notable twinge when I see a little face peeking up from a pumpkin seat in the grocery store.  I spent an above average time sifting through little sleepers with adorable footies on them the other day.  Right now, babies smell to me like baby powder and happiness and that is ALWAYS a telling sign.

TIH has also (clearly) become obsessed with the idea of having a sister recently.  He talks about it a lot and has elaborate plans for how they will play together.  ("She will go down the slide at the playground. Sisters are so silly!")  He has thus far neglected to realize that his sister will probably take away a lot of his wealth of parental attention, will rob his family blind in childcare costs, and will also likely steal his toys when she is old enough.  His rose-colored-glasses outlook is adorable.  Really. And, all joking aside?  He's going to make an excellent big brother.  Someday.

As much as these superficial things are giving me that familiar itch lately, I just know in my very core that right now is not the right time.  Last year's move was earth shattering (a point I have clearly belabored here and must do so again).  But, it was earth shattering.  And, not just emotionally, but in every possible way - physically, financially, mentally...and all of these things combined with the fact that I maybe, sort of, had a really, really tough time right after TIH was born does not a good situation make.  (It also makes horrendous, poorly punctuated run-on sentences so I am in no place right now to be a mother of two.  Obviously.)

Listen, I know that I was put on this planet to be a mother to TIH.  And somewhere, deep inside, I know that (God willing), I am to be a mother to TIH and his sibling(s?)  Someday.  Not now.  But, someday.

I am really and truly enjoying TIH at this age.  I am loving that he has all of our attention right now (and any of you who have ever raised a 3 year old know that they don't give a crap how they get your attention - they're going to get it!)  Part of me is happy to be able to be undivided for him right now.

When we had TIH, it was a very carefully calculated decision.  We knew that it was a good time in our life to have a baby.  We felt ready (I say "felt" because we soon learned that no matter how ready you "feel," it's still going to rock your world when you do become parents).  And, truly, becoming parents was the best thing to ever happen to us.

I know we will have that feeling again.

I know it when I see a mother rubbing the swell of her belly knowing that she's feeling little kicks and nudges while doing so.  I know it when I kiss the sweet, soft skin of a newborn and breath in that gorgeous smell.  I know it when I look at TIH, at the little boy he has become, as a I watch all signs of the baby he once was melt away, and I see what a miracle and a blessing kids are.

So, maybe it's not right now.  Maybe it's still a few years off.  And who knows what the future has in store for us.  But, I'm sure excited to find out what it is like to be a bigger family.

Someday.

Privilege to pee...

As I mentioned in my return post, I decided in June to use my two weeks of summer break to once and for all attempt to potty train The Incredible Hulk.  I promise that I will give you a post about our methodology (UPDATE, you can find that here), but the only thing you really need to know is who your kid is and what works for them.  Sure, I read up on some blogs and books and consulted my friendly BCBAs at work, but in truth, I just know TIH.  In fact, some days, that's all I know.

The other thing you need to consider before you embark upon this potty training adventure is the wide range of emotions you will experience along the way.  And, given my background in therapy, I was able to see a pattern of sorts.

This post will feature some frank discussion of poop, so if you're not into that sort of thing, you probably have never potty trained someone before.  Good for you.

No.  Really. Good. For. You.

The 5 Stages of {Potty Training} Grief

Denial
For me, this stage started a year ago when some of my friends successfully potty trained their children who were similar in age to TIH.  I tried to blame it on gender differences, TIH's lack of vocabulary, our tumultuous year, and pretty much anything I could think of to get me out of the idea that I would have to one day teach another person to defecate in a specific location.  His school gave him opportunities (most of which were successful) to try the potty.  But, at home, he was pretty darn happy in his diaper and I was pretty darn happy for him to be in his diaper.  (This coming from someone who once sobbed when she realized how many diapers she changed in a single day.)  Denial continued when we started trying him out in his underpants and he would wet them almost every time.

"Oh, maybe we should try after he turns 3."

"I don't want to push him and give him some sort of Freudian complex." (This coming from someone who has never enjoyed the complexities of misogynistic psychodynamic theory.)

"Our wood floors will never be the same."

Eventually, I realized I just had to jump right into it.  I had two weeks off of school and I kept him home with me for most of those two weeks.  Using the methodology I developed mostly from some educated guesswork, I got him to finally stop saying "I want to wear my diapers FOREVER!" and we were officially potty training.  We had three successful trips to the potty and I was on top of the world.

Anger
After some successful trips to the potty and a nap (wearing a Pull-Up, I'm not insane), TIH woke up, happy to put back on his big boy underpants.  And then, while we were playing, I saw him get a familiar look.  I said, "Do you have to go to the bathroom?" and he said "I NEED MY DIAPER."  What followed involved throwing little boy underpants in the trash can and an accent rug that I'll never be able to look at the same way.  I can't say I was angry at TIH.  He was new at this and we sort of sprung it on him..  But, I was really angry at myself.  Angry for not starting sooner.  Angry for starting so soon.  Angry for not having a degree in behavioral analysis.  Anger at poop in general.  The same person that at one time hated changing diapers, REALLY hated cleaning up accidents.  There were tears.  Both from me and TIH. He yelled at me a lot.  He really did not want to do this.  And he begged me...A LOT for his diaper.  I channeled my anger in healthy ways (like eating large handfuls of potty training M&Ms), but it was still very difficult to come home knowing that I would likely have to clean up another mess.  I also knew that we could not go backward by giving in and putting him in a diaper.  And that, made me more angry than anything else.

Bargaining
After one successful trip at "dropping the kids off at the pool" I started to feel a lot more confident about our abilities to conquer the potty training beast.  TIH did NOT feel the same.  He was still very much in the anger phase of "putting his poop in the potty," and avoided it at all costs.  This did include me physically lifting him onto the toilet SEVERAL times when I KNEW he was trying to go in his pants.  (For those of you well-versed in bathroom independence, I KNOW, I KNOW, but I could NOT clean another mess up off of my floors.  I couldn't.)  And with all of this assistance, it still rarely yielded results.

This is when I began to bargain with him.  I say bargain, but what I really mean is shamelessly BRIBING him to go on the potty.  Forget the behavior system I had so carefully worked out.  (I promise, I will share that with interested parties in the near future.)  Forget the fact that I do not have a million dollars.  I would have given it to him if he would just crap in the toilet.

I offered him a bike.  I offered him a scooter.  I offered him an entire economy-sized bag of M&Ms.  I said I would give him anything he wanted.  What TIH said was, "I want a plunger."  I said, "What color?"  He thought about it and said, "Yellow."  Check my Google history.  I SEARCHED FOR A FREAKING YELLOW PLUNGER.  (Also, can we talk about how apropos that gift would have been?  Didn't matter.  He pooped his pants like 3 minutes later.)

Depression
The feeling I got at this point was akin to the moment that I realized I changed 12 diapers in not as many hours.  It is overwhelming knowing that someone is depending on you for such a basic need while you are forsaking many of your own basic needs (sleep, showering, eating, etc.)  Except that diapers can contain the mess for a little while and cotton Mickey Mouse briefs cannot.  I felt very trapped in our home.  I felt like if we went to the store or even for a walk to the playground, there was a possibility of having to clean up a mess in a public place.  (Which sort of reminded me of my fears of going out into the public while breastfeeding and not wanting to do that in public.)

That isolated feeling made me feel quite depressed.  TIH was bored of our four walls and lost interest in the toys/stickers he was earning almost as soon as he earned them.  At this point, it was difficult even to celebrate the successful trips to the potty because I always dreaded if the next one would end up being another accident to clean up.

(I know, I'm really selling it on this potty training thing.  Don't you all want to run out and do this now?!)

Acceptance
Fortunately, I made my way through the depression stage quickly (years of experience, perhaps) and accepted that we had attempted this too early and that he would need to return to wearing a diaper. I reluctantly renewed my Subscribe & Save order from Amazon.com and went for a run to clear my mind.  And while I was gone, I got a text from my husband:

"WE HAVE A POOP."

TIH, finally accepting that the diapers were gone for good, told his daddy that he needed to use the potty and went poop all by himself.

They say that the day you have your kids is the best day of your life.  They're wrong.  For me, it was when we took a celebratory trip into the city and my kid asked me to go potty and was able to go by himself in the small closet that barely resembles a bathroom on the train.  (Dude, I'm almost 30 and that is still hard for me to navigate.)  In fact, he was able to remain dry for our entire trip to the city - utilizing a variety of bathrooms (the train station, a restaurant, a tree in Millennium Park...).


So, that's our story.  Methodology to come, but don't get caught up in all of that.  I say, with sage wisdom, it will happen eventually.  I can't promise that your journey through this madness will go the same way or have such a happy ending, but I can tell you that however you do get there - you're going to need a lot of Clorox wipes.

We all need somebody to lean on...

I wrote this post months ago and forgot about it. Seriously, the two pregnant women I mention at the beginning are both in their 3rd trimesters now and we moved after I wrote this so TIH is in at a new preschool (which we LOVE).  But, since most of the stuff is still true, I can post it now.  I love it when blog posts have been written for me already.

I wish I could say that my husband and I have never had a single issue with our childcare provider(s) throughout the over 2 years since I returned to work from my maternity leave.

However, I can't.   When we sold our house, we left a center we absolutely loved to go to a place that we really didn't even like that much.  But, we chose it because it was close enough to my dad's house and didn't totally break the bank.

As with most things in life, when you cut costs you also inevitably sacrifice quality.
We tried to make this place work for a good 4 months (which is honestly 4 months longer than we ever thought we would be there), but eventually the number of our complaints outweighed the reduced cost we were getting.  So, we started looking again.

The day that we went "daycare shopping," we happened to spend some time with a couple of couples who recently told us they were expecting their first children.  Both women plan to return to work when the time comes, and yet, here I was with another one of my New Mom on the Blog horror stories.  I tried to back peddle halfway through what I was saying after seeing the horrified looks on both of their faces, but I know I need to go one step further.

The thing is, I've received a lot of criticism from people for enrolling my child in a daycare center.  For some reason, daycare centers have this stigma of being dirty, disease-infested, money machines who will abuse and neglect your child for the low, low price of $1500.00 a month.  And unfortunately, our most recent experience was pretty much that (give or take a few hundred dollars.)

But, today on the blog, I'd like to talk about all of the reasons why sending your child to a child development center is not just a great idea (and something that you shouldn't fear at all), but also why it is mother-flipping AWESOME.



Reason #1 - Nap time
It takes about a full hour from start to finish to get TIH down for a nap on the weekend and almost always involves taking a ride in the car (which is somehow the fastest way to induce toddler sleep.)  At daycare?  Not only does he lay down on his cot with minimal prompting, he almost always falls asleep within minutes of laying down, and proceeds to sleep for THREE FREAKING HOURS (on the weekends, we are high-fiving ourselves if we get an hour and a half.)  I would love to know their secret to such nap-ful bliss, at the very least to save us some gas money on the nap rides.

Reason #2 - Art Work
If you follow me on Pinterest, you may believe I am some sort of crafty goddess, but you would most assuredly be wrong.  In fact, I have an entire Facebook album dedicated to craft projects I've made and not screwed up.  (There are five pictures in it.  Two of them are of brownies.  Made from a packaged brownie mix.)

Don't get me wrong.  It was delicious.

So, when I've attempted art projects with TIH, it almost always turns into a big, fat, FAIL.  Most recently, I attempted to make this project, but instead ended up with this:

Nailed it.

Even though it doesn't state it in the directions, you probably should not leave your toddler (still holding a paint brush, still covered in paint, still with open paint pots) alone while you go retrieve paper towels to clean up his hands.

At daycare?  They would have never made this mistake.  And even if they did, the place is practically a Hobby Lobby filled with all of the crafting supplies you could ever imagine and furniture that can be wiped down within an inch of it's life.  My kid is only two years old and I already have a large binder FILLED with his paintings and drawings.  It's amazing and it allows me to leave the crafting up to the experts.  Otherwise we end up with things like this:

I wish I could blame this flower pot address marker on TIH, but this one was all me.

Reason #3 - Parents Night Out
A long time ago, my husband and I used to actually go places and get dressed up and eat dinner and have adult conversations.  We are lucky enough to have a bunch of family members who are always willing and able to take TIH so that we can have a date night.  But, sometimes those people have lives too.  Or, they want to do things WITH US.  Enter: PNO.  This is where we pay our licensed, degreed, and AWESOME childcare workers a (very, very small) fee so that my husband and I can have 4 hours of freedom while TIH gets fed pizza, makes more of the aforementioned craft projects, and plays with his friends.  The result?  Mom and Dad still have what resembles a social life/marriage and TIH has a freaking blast.  Win/win.

Reason #4 - Spanish
Do you know what language I took in high school?  Latin.  Yes.  The dead language.  Sure, my ACT/SAT scores rocked and I still have an above average vocabulary (not that you'd know it from this blog), but as for being functional...nope.  And it also isn't really something you can teach your kid (not that I remember enough to do so anyway.)  At TIH's daycare, a Spanish teacher comes once a week to teach them basic Spanish vocabulary.  If I tried to teach my kid basic vocabulary in another language, it would sound like this:

Reason #5 - Diapers
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am kind of okay with someone else changing the diapers for 8 hours.  If I leave you with no other reason why daycare is awesome?  This is it.




I will tell the truth - it isn't easy to drop your kid off in the hands of people you don't really know that well.  The first time made me feel like I had been punched in the stomach.  But, it gets easier.  There will be tears at times, but another great thing about daycare - and this is probably the best part - they're there to give the hugs and wipe the tears that I can't.

And that?  Is worth way more than $1500.  (Give or take a few hundred.)