Last week I did something strange.
A friend of mine sent me a text Friday night and asked if I wanted to get together Saturday morning. She said she would even bring me coffee. Ordinarily, free coffee would make me do just about anything, but getting to hang out with my BFF and drink free coffee? Sounded like a slam dunk to me.
I looked at my phone and paused. Something didn’t feel right.
My kids had just returned from two days with my in-laws. They were in bed shortly after they arrived home that day so I hadn’t been given much time to be with them. I missed them.
Rather than text my friend back with an emphatic YES as well as my coffee order, I replied with, “Ya know, this is kind of weird… but we just got Lily and Levi back after two days and I think I really wanna just spend some time with them.”
That’s right, folks. I declined adult interaction and free coffee to hang out with Lily and Levi.
Well that’s weird. Continue reading
Confession: I’m a recovering mom-judger.
I used to roll my eyes when one more exasperated first time mom would ask, “How do I get my two-month old to sleep through the night?” I would be hard pressed to hide my surprise if another mom admitted the cornerstones of her kid’s diet for the last week was string cheese and chicken nuggets. I’d go home and tell my husband, “So and so lets her kids do x, y, and z. Can you believe it?” followed by the quintessential line, “I would NEVER let that happen.”
Yep. That was me. Judgey McJudgerson at your service.
A few nights ago when I was spinning around in my chair singing, “I’m not funny, la la la…” instead of writing, I started to wonder why I judged so much. I’m not a mean-spirited person. I genuinely like most of the people I found myself judging. I didn’t like judging them nor the guilt that came with it. So what was my issue?
And in a flash of insight not unlike Big Bird realizing he didn’t want a new habitat if it meant leaving his friends on Sesame Street, it hit me.
I judge because I’m insecure.
That’s it. Continue reading
Many of you were wanting my take on camping with little kids. I’ll begin by saying that this will not be a super positive review of the experience.
I don’t think I like camping. I think I like the idea of camping. Of waking up to a chilly morning, quietly drinking my coffee by a campfire while listening to the sounds of the world waking up. A bird chirps. A squirrel whizzes by. Ah, camping. The day progresses in a slow, sedated lull. I wander with my campmates through a hike or down the coastline for a relaxing walk. In the evenings, we all don an extra layer and drink hot chocolate with Bailey’s around the campfire until it’s time to curl up in our sleeping bag and quickly drift off to sleep, the fresh air doling out to us the best night’s sleep we’ve ever had.
That didn’t happen though. Even without kids it wouldn’t have happened. Camp coffee always has grounds in it. I’m freezing cold from about 5pm until 3pm the next day regardless of how many layers I wear. I didn’t have any Bailey’s. I also didn’t have my fan who’s sole purpose is to offer white noise so falling asleep to the sound of… well, nature, didn’t really work for me.
Oh, right. And then there’s the kids. Continue reading
I think the topic of babies and sleeping has always been, and will always be, one of the most talked about subjects in parenting. You know why? Because there’s no one way to get kids to sleep. That’s why there are eleven million books on the subject. No one knows what works. No one.
We did the cry it out method with both of our children. Well, I tried to do it with Lillian. When we were going through this with her, we lived in a one-bedroom so most of the time she’d either wind up in bed with us or I’d wind up on the couch. I was pregnant with Levi and had to be awake for work at 4 a.m. and I was sleeping on the couch. Does it make sense why this didn’t really work for us?
Now Levi… Levi kind of got hosed. Being the second child, I wasn’t nearly as sympathetic to him and his cries. If I knew for a fact he was clean, warm, topped off, and tired, I would lay him in his bed and let him cry all he wanted. Luckily for both of us, he caught on pretty quick and falls asleep on his own pretty well. Up until a couple weeks ago he was still waking up to nurse at night which I could deal with. I just needed him to be able to put himself to sleep. A 3am feeding is totally okay if it means I’m not sleeping on the couch while 112 weeks pregnant.
For us, sleep training worked. It helped teach Levi to fall asleep on his own. It taught him to self-soothe. I also think it helped him sleep longer stretches at night. It was great.
But here’s what no one told me. Continue reading
I guess the title is misleading. It makes it sound like my toddler wasn’t wearing pants. And he wasn’t. But I really want to explain to you why I didn’t have pants on while crawling after my toddler.
It all started with poop. The best stories do.
Both kids were in my lap as we watched “Let It Go” on YouTube for conservatively the 812th time that day. I still like the song, they kind of sit still, and Lillian is adorable when she sings along. She does the hand motions too. It’s great.
So we’re all sitting, watching the computer, when I smell something. Oh geez, one of the kids pooped. There went that cute moment. Well, I’ll just wait until this is over.
“Let it go, let it go…”
Why is my leg wet?
I look down, and Levi had managed to not only poop, but somehow completely miss the diaper. I don’t even know what happened. Sometimes the stars are aligned just right, the diaper’s on just wrong, and everything comes pouring out.
Now I’ve dealt with a lot of poop in my two years of motherhood, but getting pooped on always sends me into a fight or flight mode. What do I do?! Continue reading