Soule Mama

Valerie started school yesterday, and I quickly realized I am not ready for the end of "summer". Not ready for packing lunches. Not ready for routines. Not ready for...any of it.

I found myself visiting Soule Mama today and I thought it was high time I let you in on it, if you didn't know already. Her blog often reminds me to slow down, look around, be thankful, and focus on what is really important.

If you are a mama (or papa, or other caregiver to children) have a look. It is a little place of peace.

Night Weaning, Radical Parenting, and Breakfast Out

Into the third week of the third attempt at night weaning Andrew, I am a zombie. Whatever happened to third time's the charm? We were almost there back in October when he got an ear infection ten days in, and I decided to wait. Then we were a week in last November when we ended up with the swine flu. Then there was a lot of traveling, thus waiting. This time, I am so ready, nothing will stop me. Andrew, however, is that much older, that much wiser, and has other ideas. And he just got a cold. I have it, too. That is why I caved at 5:54 a.m. this morning, and went ahead and nursed him instead of spending the next hour (waiting for the sun to peek through the curtains) beside a toddler yelling, kicking, and tugging at my hair.

We'll be back at it early, early, early tomorrow morning, I'm sure.

Which brings me to Radical Parenting. (I couldn't find a synopsis provided by Discovery Health, which aired the show, so I am just providing a link to upcoming air times.) I happened upon this TV show last week in a rare instance of channel surfing. Well not so rare in the evenings before my 9:00 p.m. bedtime (you have to go to bed early when you plan to be woken up at 4-ish a.m.), since I have been a zombie.

Apparently, in some ways, I am a radical parent. Certainly, my own parents have thought that, at times. I just try to do what feels right. And I read Attachment Parenting when Valerie was just a few months old, then Mothering Your Nursing Toddler, when she was nearly two. Both books were in contrast to other parenting books I had in the stack. And they made me feel much better about the decisions I was making, including: baby-wearing, co-sleeping, extended nursing. But according to the show, I guess I am radical because of it. I honestly think that every parent's style of parenting would be considered radical by someone else!

Anyway. Me, zombie. So yesterday was especially trying because of the time change, and then Andrew took a spill at the playground that resulted in a very loud clang as his poor little noggin hit the play structure, and I nearly had to vomit from the fright of it. And the afternoon was crazy because he is also in the process of giving up his daily nap.

No nap + night weaning + time change = insanity. Just in case you needed me to do the math.

But this morning, after we got Valerie to school (tardy, I might add, which is NOT the norm), I took Andrew out to breakfast. And we had a lovely time at my favorite breakfast joint, which lifted my spirits. And I had two cups of coffee so I could come home and write this post!

The End of Naptime

I have seen it coming ever since mid-December. Andrew will be giving up his nap soon (which has been a nice daily bit of rest for me since August). It has been getting less and less likely that he will nurse to sleep around midday, especially if he has slept in past 7:00 a.m. Then, he might get sleepy and want to nap around 2:30 p.m. And if you have kids, or have cared for young children you know that afternoon naps lead to late bedtimes which lead to...insanity.

On the other hand, keeping a worn-out toddler awake when he really just wants to nap is no fun either. And it just seems wrong to keep a kid awake who wants to snooze. You must pick your poison in these cases and decide if a grumpy child now who will fall asleep early in the evening is easier to deal with (or fits better with the plans for the day) or a bit of rest now in return for, did I already mention, insanity as late at 10:00 p.m. later. A tough call.

I usually cannot alone (it is easier when there are others to help entice him to stay awake) keep Andrew from dozing off for just a while even when it is "past naptime". Plus, like last Friday, I might just hold him the whole time and stare at his irresistible face as he sleeps and breathe in the sweetness of his little self that is growing bigger so fast.

The payoff for no more naptime is the earlier bedtime, and often up to twelve hours of sleep for the child, and even the parents if they so choose. When Valerie gave up her nap it was like I suddenly had all this time in the evening to myself. It was great. The thing about the prospect of this happening again is that I know better now. Sure, more time for me, but also just another of Andrew's milestones met on his journey through childhood. And away from his mama. How do I survive this, my kids growing up?

Lofty Thoughts

Lofty thoughts. That's what I call the grand ideas that pop into my head, or the elaborate plans I make, as I am driving the car the 25 minutes from Trader Joe's back home, usually with a latte/mocha/chai (my little reward to myself for getting through the grocery shopping which has never been a particularly favorite task) in the cup holder, The Wiggles or Raffi in the CD player, and Andrew happily playing with a toy in his car seat.

Lofty thoughts. Because they almost never come to fruition. Take last Monday's, for example. In my mind, I completely emptied the fridge, removed and washed all the shelves and drawers, and washed down the inside walls. Like that is really going to happen anytime soon. Cue hysterical laughing.

Lofty thoughts. I may be flawed in my thinking, but it seems to me that mothers of previous generations (and maybe even mothers of today) were able to complete these kinds of domestic projects during a morning or an afternoon. But I don't know how. I have a hard time getting the dishes done.

Lofty thoughts. I think them, then reluctantly let them go as I pull into the driveway. After all, some day, when the kids are more independent, or at school (assuming I haven't gone back to work, which is a lot to assume, though I have had lots of lofty thoughts involving creative ways to make money again someday!), I will have a whole bunch of projects all planned out, filed away in my brain, ready to be accessed and acted upon. Cue more hysterical laughing.

Lofty thoughts. Oh, I will get to them. I will get to them all in due time. What I have to keep in mind, as I pick up Andrew from his car seat and he cuddles against me for the walk to the front door, is that he is only going to be two-years-old, and Valerie is only going to be five-nearly-six, just this once. My time is better spent with them. The fridge, the dusty and cluttered surfaces, the numerous rat-packed closets--they will still be there. (Quietly driving me bonkers.)

I Never Wanted to Be a Soccer Mom

Up until...yesterday at about 4:30 pm, I never wanted to be a soccer mom. I just had always pictured: minivan, cooler full of snacks, fold-up chairs, slatherings of sunblock, fussy little kiddies, and hours upon hours spent at some field every weekend for most of the year. Not my cup of tea.

But yesterday Valerie had her first soccer practice. Yes, I had to chase Andrew around like crazy to keep him away from all those super exciting "zshah" (soccer) balls that the older kids got to kick around. But other than that, it wasn't too bad. In fact--hold onto your hats--I enjoyed watching Valerie run and kick and smile. She smiled so much, she was beaming. She was having so much fun. Maybe I get it now.

Or maybe I'll completely change my mind after the Saturday games begin, but at least Tom will be there to help corral Andrew. And then we'll both get to watch Valerie beaming. She's always singing, "I just love to see you shine." And wow, do we love to see her shine, the way she does when she is having a really great time. That's what we want most for our children, right?

So, next thing you know I'll be driving a minivan.

Not.

Home Again

We were out-of-town last week for four days, staying at my parents' house. A relative of mine passed away (but that is another story), so I wanted to attend the funeral services. They were midweek, and Tom was able to take a few days off work. So, even though the reason for the trip was unfortunate, it turned into a mini-vacation of sorts.

The drive was the easiest since Andrew was born. Hopefully that is going to be the trend, but I know better than to plan on it. The accommodations were excellent. No cooking, cleaning, or clutter to deal with. The kids had a ball playing and soaked up the extra attention of all the extended family. Tom and I got to sit back and watch. We got to take a breather. And we got to take a short nap!

We also went out for coffee with a friend. Just three adults having a nice discussion. Mostly about our kids. Of course. (It is so good to talk to another parent and understand that many of the issues you face with your own kids are shared by other parents!) I realized shortly after that it was the first time Tom and I had been out with a friend, without our kids, since Valerie was born. Whoa. Then we took a drive by our childhood homes, grabbed burgers for lunch, and picked up a pack of diapers on the way back. So, you know, technically it was a date.

The drive home went pretty well. It even worked out that we arrived with an hour to spare before bedtime. Valerie went right to sleep. It took Andrew a while because he had a late nap in the car, but all in all, things went smoothly.

But the next day, not so much. I think it must be some sort of attention withdrawal. We all had it. The kids were quite used to having non-stop playmates. And Tom and I were quite used to having lots of help. Plus, everyone was tired. Even with coffee, it was hard to muster the energy needed to get through that long three-ring circus of a day. But we made it.

Then came Monday morning. Tom went off to work, and it was just me again. Alone with the kids. I actually have a mini-attention withdrawal every Monday morning, I think. But yesterday was a little rough around the edges energy-wise. It will take a few days for all of us to feel more rested and back to our regular routine.

But still, it is always good to be home again.

Devotional Parenting

As Tom and I walked hand-in-hand to the grocery store last Friday afternoon, I knew that we were in fact on a date. This because we were by ourselves. It occurred to me that running errands with your spouse while the grandparents are at home with the kids constitutes an actual date when you are someone who "practices devotional parenting".

Since I began writing this blog, I've been asked by a number of people what I mean by "devotional parenting" as mentioned in my profile at right [text changed 9-18-09]. One friend even Googled it, and much to my happy surprise, came up with nothing. So folks, you heard it here first!

I came up with the term a while back when I began reconnecting with many old friends on facebook. I found myself describing my life as a SAHM (stay at home mom) who had "surrendered to motherhood" (a term introduced to me by a teacher at a parents' group). I explained that becoming a mother had been a monumental task for me, and that for Tom and I, our children are the center of our universe. Therefore, we make choices that allow us to spend as much time as possible caring for our kids.

You see, not long (hours maybe) after Valerie was born, I knew I had quite clearly discovered the meaning of life. Life for Life's sake. We are here to make and love babies. It's not a religious view. It is more evolutionary than anything else. Perpetuation of the species. Simple.

"Practicing devotional parenting": I use "practice" because it sounds almost like following a religion (see entry 4). I use "devotional" because I am totally devoted to my kids. Just about everything Tom and I do is in some way, if not directly, related to the well being of our children.

Our date last Friday was the first time I had been away from home without the kids in over three months. I had that feeling, at first, like I had forgotten something. Like, was I missing my purse? My keys? My left arm?? Yes, I start going a little nuts when it has been a while since I was out alone. Tom does take the kids out for a couple of hours now and then, but I usually stay home on the couch and try not to notice all the ten thousand things around me that need to be tended to, and instead relax with with some chocolate and a Neil Finn album. Or nap.

It might be different for us if we lived closer than 5 hours away from family. The only people who have ever babysat our kids are relatives. We don't have the means to afford a nanny, nor do we want to take the chance on hiring a babysitter whom we simply do not know. We are the ones who look after the kids. All the time. Mostly me.

To "practice devotional parenting" by always being there for my children is my choice. (It also involves breastfeeding and co-sleeping and renting vs. owning a home, and myriad other things, but those are other stories.) I spend the bulk of my energy on my kids. "Me time" (and "me and Tom time") is at night when they have gone to sleep, before I decide I really must get to bed before 6 a.m. hits and it is time to start all over again. I do have other aspirations and dreams for myself, but I have accepted that this is just how it is for now. And I love Valerie and Andrew so much, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sew Cozy

I made this cute little sewing machine cover on Monday morning. It is amazing that I got it done with the two kids swirling around me. Andrew wanted me to pick him "UP!", and Valerie in between inquiring about the buttons on the machine said, "Mama, I love it when you sew." Which was nice, because I love it, too. But it totally cracks me up that the project I chose to do was a cozy to cover the machine for when I'm not using it! Which is the vast, vast majority of the time.

I do so love to sew. I've been sewing since I was five or six. The way I remember it, I was five. But probably I was at least six. My mom taught me how to sew first on an old fashioned treadle sewing machine (very similar to the one in this image). That way I wouldn't get it going too fast and sew through my finger. I can still hear my mom saying, "Don't sew your finger!" I had that treadle machine in my bedroom from childhood into my teenage years (and now I have it in my guest room). I sewed all kinds of things on it from Barbie clothes to sock dolls, pillow covers to pants. I even, in the 80's of course, sewed a bunch of old zippers onto one of my dad's old t-shirts. It was cool.

My mom also taught me to use her big heavy electric Kenmore sewing machine. "DON'T SEW YOUR FINGER!" That was big time for me, getting to sew on mom's machine. I made my first quilt on her machine, the summer after I graduated from high school. I used that quilt on my bed in my college dorm room the next fall. My mom still has her wonderful beast of a machine, complete with the orange and green labels my little sister asked me to make with the label maker (a lot like the one here) that say things like "LOVE MY MOMMY". I vividly remember making those labels, like it was yesterday, though it has been close to thirty years ago now.

For my birthday the same summer I got married, my mom gave me my very own used Kenmore in it's own sewing table! It was so exciting. I used that machine for over 13 years before I had to retire it. I made Valerie's and Andrew's first Halloween costumes on it, a black kitten and brown bear cub, respectively. And countless other projects.

Last Christmas, Tom got me a brand-spanking-new Kenmore, and I felt like a queen! But I didn't get to use it until it was time to make Valerie's birthday dress, a yearly tradition, last Spring. And then, not again until Monday when I made the cozy. I was so happy to show Tom what I had done (instead of washing the dishes) when he got home from work. And he said, "See, you're getting back to it!"

I used to get so frustrated, as a new mother, when I couldn't do the leisurely things I enjoyed like sew or paint, nap or shower. But I finally learned to let them go, except the showering. It is all a part of "surrendering to motherhood", putting all those (thousands of) projects away in their own little mental cozies, for later. That is just how it is when you practice devotional parenting. But that is another story.