3 November of KCttC

Secondborn has been showing all the signs that she's beginning to give up nap time. Some days it takes over an hour for her to fall asleep. And, this usually involves me sitting on the floor outside her bedroom watching her every move.
There were days that I was getting really frustrated about the situation. After all, doesn't she know that nap time is Mommy time? Who did she think she was being awake in the allotted slot of time that I used to get things done? I was getting seriously bummed. Along with that serious bum I was doing some serious whining.
One day last week after exhausting every trick I knew and myself, yet was still facing a wide eyed, definitely non exhausted daughter, I laid down on the couch with her. It didn't take long till we both fell asleep. And, it was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed that delicious nap with my baby girl, who is quickly loosing all aspects of being a baby.
Each and every day I see a little less of that baby that I reached down to greet nearly two and a half years ago. And, while I'm thrilled to watch her grow into this independent, feisty, and fearless little girl, I'm saddened to watch her babyhood melt away.
For the next few days after that delicious nap, I couldn't shake the sad little ache in my heart as I was coming to terms that Secondborn wasn't a baby anymore and she wasn't quite a little girl, either.
That's when I decided that more of those delicious naps were in order. There were a few days I freaked out when I would realize that was precious housework time. But, the more afternoons we spent together snuggled on that couch, the less the housework seemed to matter. In the past I wouldn't have been able to even entertain the idea of napping while she napped for fear of wasting time. But, not anymore. And, that's how I ended up mopping my house at 9:30 tonight. The housework got done much later than what I would like. But, the trade off was far superior.


To be upset over what you don't have is to waste what you do have. ~Ken S. Keyes, Jr.
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Should Be Sleeping

I should be sleeping, but I'm not. Instead, I'm sitting in the kids' bedroom holding Firstborn's hand as he sleeps. This is the most memorable part of my day.

If you look back almost exactly a year ago on this blog you'll notice that what I'm about to say and what I've already said are quite parallel. Basically, it's the same story, we moved, life happens, and everybody gets sicks.

But, this time it feels like everybody is staying sick. Oh, one might recover from whatever ailment it is plaguing them, but rest assured by next week it's mutated into something completely different and is being passed around like the latest comic book. Within the past three weeks both Firstborn and Secondborn have had strep throat. This was followed by a serious bout with RSV for the latter.

At first, she was on breathing treatments every four hours round the clock along with some talk of a stay in the hospital. I slept on the floor of their room for several days to be able to give the round the clock treatments. But I'm relieved to report that she's doing much better and we've been able to let up on the breathing treatments somewhat.

Because of the sickness we've all been at home much more than we'd like. A severe case of the Island Happy has set in and we're all a bit wound tight. Fortunately, Firstborn has been able to rejoin his preschool class twice a week. Yet, I fear that's not enough.

He's held my complete attention for for such a great length of time that he's taken issue with the lack I've been able to give him of late. You see, Secondborn wishes me to die an early death. I can think of no other way to sum it up. I've spoke of how she is the daytime to his night. I've described how completely opposite of one another they are. And, yet, they are so much like their gendered parent, it's unbelievable.

Not only does the boy look identical to his father's baby and childhood pictures, but the girl to mine. And, it isn't just limited to looks. Their personalities seem to mirror those of each respected, as well.

Firstborn is reserved, bashful, if you will. Once you engage him, and often it takes a great deal of coaxing, he has the time of his short lived life. Secondborn knows no fear. To say she is spirited and independent is somewhat the understatement. They truly are the equivalent of each of us in a most frightening and unusual way.

All that being said, I'm having to give Secondborn a great deal more attention than I ever did Firstborn at this age. In fact, it's almost impossible to take my eyes off her for fear of finding her running up and down the length of the formal dining room table......again. Or, climbing the floor to ceiling blinds as she did in our old house.....before she could walk.

Firstborn has had a difficult transition with this move. He's had a difficult time with the lack of attention I'm able to give him at this point. And, quite frankly, I'm having a difficult time with him.

He's not being a bad child. He's being a three and a half year old who's having trouble adjusting to many new things in his ever changing environment. It's me that seems to behaving as a bad child. I'm ashamed of how much alone time I've been craving. I'm ashamed of how overwhelmed I've become by his constant need for attention, my approval, my...my...my love.

And, it's when I finally have a moment of clarity when Secondborn isn't trying to scale the washing machine by way of whatever's at hand, that I realize how much his happiness depends upon my loving approval.

He's had it all along. For so long. And, then when I get bogged down with the reality of sick children, sick family, moving, settling in, but not really settling in because we're only here temporarily, insomnia like I've never experienced before, and a child who is hell bent on scaling Mt. Everest by age thirteen, I get lost. I get lost in the roar of the immediate and I can't hear the pleas of my dearest, darling, boy, "Mommy, watch me! Watch me!"

What shakes me to my core is looking back to one of the most beautiful faces I'll ever know with utmost attention and a little hand rubbing my arm saying, "It gonna be okay, Mommy. You're my best friend and I love you de whole day wong, ebry day."

How did I get this far from centered? I don't know. How do I get centered again? And, by that I mean, how do I get back to enjoying absolutely every waking and, not just the sleeping moments of my children?

I miss having fun with my children. I mean, really enjoying each moment with them. I know as I type these words there will be at least twelve mothers out there saying to themselves, "Enjoy these days, because they go by much too fast."

I know these days are limited and precious. And, I can see brighter days ahead. I know they are there. How can there not be brighter days ahead with a best friend like Firstborn? But, tell me, how can I be so blind to them right now?

The Natives Are Restless

There is a great battle that will likely never be mentioned in any history book you pick up. But, a great battle it is. The natives in this battle wage a warfare that is calculating and decisive. Their spirits are brave. Their willingness to face the enemy day after day is overwhelming.

For the record, I'm the enemy. Each and every afternoon I face the battle of nap time. Firstborn is hit or miss with there being any actual sleep during his nap time. But, I still demand he lay quietly and rest. His quiet time is just as much for me as it is him.

Secondborn is in the process of transitioning down to one nap a day now. She always sleeps for several hours. The trouble I'm having with her is trying to push her nap time back so she won't be so cranky and tired late in the afternoon.

But, the battle lies in the fact that they share a room. I wanted them to share a room for a few years so they would be close. It seems I got what I wanted. When they go to bed at night there are the expected bed time stallings, but they usually quieten down fairly quickly now. But, for some reason they just can't seem to nap together.

The past week of battling has left me weary and ragged. However, I changed my plan of attack this afternoon. I moved Firstborn to the den couch. Within fifteen minutes he had waved the truce flag and passed out cold.

Secondborn waged a much more impressive and impassioned warfare. Yet, half an hour later upon realizing her resources were much depleted she too waved that white flag of surrender.

The restless natives were finally soothed into submission and I won victorious! At least until tomorrow's battle.

....But You Can't Pick Your Friend's Nose

You know the old saying, "You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose"? Just how do you explain that to a two year old?
Last night Firstborn was not feeling well. He'd had a very long and trying day. I had the family down at the health department before sun up in order for us to obtain our H1N1 Flu vaccines. The vaccine made him cranky. The ungodly hour of 5:30 in the morning made him tired. And I just made him mad every time he turned around.
Since he was not feeling well I allowed him to go to sleep in my bed with the plan of Hubby moving him to the toddler bed once Hubby was home from closing the restaurant. Firstborn was having trouble settling down. He kept wiggling. I asked him to stop. He did. He began to sing. I asked him to stop. And he did. Then the nose picking began. I said to Firstborn, "Take your finger out of your nose and do not put it back in there." And thankfully, he did.
As I lay there on the very edge of sleep, thinking I had taken care of the situation, I reached out for my son's sweet chubby hand. For the record, this particular hand had no involvement in the prior nose picking incident. Firstborn was playing with my hand and I paid it no mind. That is until I realized my finger was going up his nose. My son had enlisted my hand to harvest his crop of snot.
After dislodging my finger and giving it a generous application of hand sanitizer, I once more tried to go back to that fuzzy sleepy place. This time I was interrupted by Firstborn sitting up in bed and asking, "Where booger go, Mommy?"
"What do you mean, 'Where booger go'?"
He then points to Hubby's pillow, apparently its previous resting place, and says, "Booger go bye-bye".
As I closed my eyes for the last time that hour, I gave an inward giggle that at least I would not be the only one picked for this booger business.