My little parrot

As we were driving home in stop and start traffic, I heard a little voice from the back seat:

"Goddammit, cars. Move! Go faster! We need to get home."

I'm hanging my head in shame. I've obviously had a few moments of road rage as of late, and E is apparently a parrot.

Consider my act cleaned up.

On vacation

We are on vacation. With children!

What were we thinking?

J and I decided it was time for a short get away. We live on the coast, but by this time of year the heat, the tourists, and the incessant hurricane talk (Are YOU prepared for another Hugo? Do YOU have enough insurance? Have YOU stocked your hurricane survival kit yet?*) get to us, and we feel the desire for a short escape. So what do we do? We head to the mountains for our turn playing tourists.

We left last night. I had a brilliant plan. Leave after dinner and baths so that the girls would sleep the five hours. It was a great idea in theory, but it didn't work out quite so well in reality.

First, I never should have told Little E where we were going. Especially not the part about seeing Thomas the Train. Looking back, that was a bad idea. Very bad. You see, children two and three quarters years old do not have a well-developed sense of time. So by saying, "We'll ride on Thomas on Friday," I may as well have told her "All aboard!" This meant that she didn't dare close her eyes on the trip up (until the last 20 minutes). If she had been happy to be strapped to her carseat that would have been one thing, but after the first two hours, she was pissed about the whole thing, once telling J, "J, turn this car around NOW. I want to go home." Yes, she called him by his first name. That went over well.

Second, if one child is up throwing wild tantrums, the other child is hard pressed to sleep well. This means that Baby M was awake and not happy for the last two hours of the trip. We had stereo wailing in the back seat.

Finally, the girls were wired after we finally checked into our hotel. So wired that they were both up until 1:30 a.m. No amount of nursing, walking or singing was going to help Baby M go to sleep. Little E stayed up in solidarity.

This morning we went shopping for a fan to produce white noise (I can't sleep without it-how we left mine, I don't know) and a sit and stand stroller.** Why we have waited until 11 months for a sit and stand, I don't know, but Little M can't walk as far here so a double stroller was definitely in order. Coming from the Lowcountry, she is unaccustomed to hills and we have lots of walking planned. After their nap, we are going up into the mountains to see the house my in-laws are building. I have mixed feelings about their vacation home (a place in the mountains-cool! more time with the in-laws- Ugh!).

Tomorrow is Thomas Day. I'll post pics.



*Our answers are no, no and no.
**And a big bottle of wine. For the whining.

Major developments

That E figures out the potty training thing.
Hoorah! How quickly things change. She has finally put it together and learned to pee in the potty. I can't wait until she is diaper free. I'm fearful of public restrooms, but how bad can it be compared to changing big girl poopy diapers?

I love this photo

Seven months today

I'm too sick and too tired for a long post, but today is M's seven month birthday so I want to take a moment.

I like this age. She will still fall asleep in my arms and will allow me to cuddle up as much as I like. I'm drinking it all in because I know it won't last. Soon her smooth baby skin will be roughened up from crawling and she will be too busy exploring to cuddle for long.

She has her first tooth, she is able to move around by scooting on her tummy in a bit of an army crawl, she rocks on her knees and goes backwards, she shrieks in delight when I enter a room, she shrieks in displeasure when I exit the room, she is finally sleeping through the night, she loves her big sister, she loves the dogs, and she doesn't mind the car (too much).

We were three and now we are four. I can't imagine it any other way.

Sleep Training

I am a zombie mom. Seven months* without a full night's sleep will do that. The results aren't pretty.

I'm forgetful. Did I feed the dogs? Did I give the baby her medicine? Did I make the mortgage payment?

I'm emotional. You left the toilet seat up again? Bastard!

I'm unfocused. Have I really been sitting at the computer for three hours and I only have four paragraphs to show for it?

Something has got to give.

Today, I took M to the doctor to confirm the second round of antibiotics cleared the dreadful ear infection. Her ears looked good, and the doctor gave me permission and encouragement to commence with sleep training while we have a window in which she is free of colds and ear infections.

So baby boot camp has begun, and I'm the reluctant drill sergeant.

My poor baby girl has been crying on and off for an hour. It is 1 a.m. and I am trying not to cave in to her pathetic squawking. I have no philosophical objection to sleep training: I do not believe I am scarring her emotionally nor do I believe she is in terrible distress.

I'm doing this because she needs to learn to self soothe. Because the booby bar closes at 8 from here on out. Because I believe a rested family is a happy family.

Still, it is hard. Has it really been an hour?

********Going to check on her now********


Crap. Now she is more upset. And she just woke her sister.

This is going to be a looooong night.


*Longer, if we count bathroom calls during the third trimester.

So that is the problem

M has never been a great sleeper, but with a double ear infection that did not respond to first-line antibiotics, M's sleep habits have regressed to that of her five to six week self. I won't try sleep training again until I know that she is not in discomfort. At the same time, E is waking at least once a night for various reasons. One night she wet the bed. Then there was a nightmare. Last night she was lonely and wanted to sleep with us.*

Last night I made a note of each time I woke to attend to one or both of the children. My longest stretch of sleep was just over 90 minutes. That isn't good is it?

I'm pathetically tired. So tired that I stare at the computer screen and my thoughts flit by too rapidly for me to get them down. So tired that I walk into a room with a sense of purpose, but cannot remember what that purpose may be. So tired that I put hair gel on my toothbrush this morning.

I've made little headway on the text in the past two weeks. This makes me feel stupid. Lazy. Slow. And irritable.

So today when a friend send me this Reuter's article, I felt a wee bit better realizing that I really am slower and dumber than I used to be back when I had normal sleep habits.

Child's sleep disorder affects parents too
By Amy Norton

When children have sleep problems, their parents -- especially mothers -- often have sleep-deprived nights too, research shows.

In a study of families with children seen at a sleep clinic, researchers found that when children had multiple sleep problems, their parents were more likely to have daytime drowsiness.

Mothers were generally more affected than fathers, possibly because they were the ones who typically responded to their children's problems in the middle of the night, the researchers speculate.

"A child's sleep problem affects the whole family," said lead study author Dr. Julie Boergers, of Bradley Hasbro Children's Research Center and Brown Medical School in Providence, Rhode Island.

This is important, she told Reuters Health, because research shows that sleep disruptions and daytime sleepiness have negative effects on people's mood, behavior and health. For parents, sleep deprivation may cause them to have less patience with their child or spouse, and be less productive at work and at home, Boergers explained.

The study, published in the Journal of Family Psychology, is based on 107 families of children ages 2 to 12 who were evaluated at a sleep disorders clinic. The children's sleep problems ranged from the breathing disorder sleep apnea to night terrors and sleepwalking to behavioral issues like refusing to go to bed.

When parents were surveyed about their own sleep habits and daytime alertness, it turned out that those whose children had more than one sleep problem tended to suffer more daytime sleepiness than other parents.

This was particularly true of mothers, even though they reported sleeping roughly the same number of hours that fathers did.

It's possible that mothers did have more sleep interruptions than fathers, even though they logged roughly the same number of hours in bed, according to Boergers and her colleagues. While fathers in general may be taking on more child-rearing responsibilities, they note, moms are probably still the ones who more often get out of bed to check on their child.

According to Boergers, some signs of a childhood sleep disorder include excessive daytime sleepiness, difficulty falling asleep, frequent nighttime waking or snoring."It's also important to recognize that some children who demonstrate daytime behavior problems or mood disturbances may suffer from an underlying sleep disorder," she said.

Parents who suspect their child may have a sleep disorder "shouldn't hesitate" to seek help for it, Boergers said, as there are effective behavioral therapies and medications available.

SOURCE: Journal of Family Psychology, March 2007.


*I normally discourage this, but I am so very tired that I relented.

Six months already

Dear M:

All those months as you grew inside me, I thought you would never get here. I was impatient. I wanted to fast forward through the pregnancy and hold you in my arms. And then you were here. Now six months have passed and my impulse is the opposite: I want to slow things down a bit. I want to savor this because it is going quickly, and one day I am going to look up at a rosy cheeked toddler, and I'll have a hard time remembering what that toddler was like as a baby. I'll love that toddler to bits, of course. But I'll miss the baby.

Last week you celebrated your six month birthday with a double ear infection. I'm experiencing some mom guilt over this one because, looking back at your sleep patterns, I'm fairly certain that you had at least a mild infection for several days before I carted you to the pediatrician. I was trying not to be a neurotic mom, but all the signs were there. By the time we saw the doctor, one of your ears looked awful and the other was well on its way to awful. This is your second major infection in less than two months. I see tubes in your future.

Yesterday we took you to your six month appointment. You are a long thin baby barely breaking the 10th percentile for weight, but nearing the 90th percentile for height. For a teeny thing, you are strong and you struggled with the doctor who wanted to check your (still infected) ears. You turned beet red and let out a mighty wail with each of your four immunizations, but you quickly settled down and were smiling again by the time we made it to the car.

You are so happy. A smile machine. You flirt with everyone, even the nurse who has just jabbed you with four needles. On my desk I have a favorite picture of you grinning pure sunshine. When I am feeling down, or when I miss you, I study that photo and it helps.

I haven't had eight hours of sleep since I was seven months pregnant and you, my dear, are the reason. You don't sleep as well as your big sister did at this age. I've initiated sleep training several times, but you've been a bit stubborn, and you've also been sick with seemingly constant colds and ear infections. I have a hard time letting you cry when I'm not certain that you are free of discomfort.

You are still a breastfed baby, but you are eating solids now. So far, you have not refused anything I've offered. The nice thing about your eating solids is that it slightly reduces the amount of milk you need at daycare. This is marvelous because I am able to keep up with you and we've not needed to supplement with formula yet. There may come a time that I decide to stop pumping, but we aren't there yet.

You've been sitting well for a while and you are now getting up on your hands and knees. You haven't worked out how to go forward, but it won't be long. When you do work this out, we are in trouble. In anticipation of your impending mobility, I am trying to get big sister to keep toys with small pieces off the floor and I'm looking at what needs to be baby proofed for a second time.

You have no teeth, but given your new game of "bite mommy while nursing" I suspect teeth won't be long. I've been reading up on this biting and I'm either supposed to yelp and say "no bite" sternly, or I'm supposed to observe you and remove you when you seem to slow down while nursing. Most gurus suggest the former technique, but there is some debate over this. At least one web site suggests that yelping may scare you off the breast starting a string of negative feeding associations that will lead to later food issues and eventual obesity or anorexia. Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?

Your big sister adores you. She wants to feed you. She wants to hold you. She wants to bathe you. She wants to dress you. You return the affection. You watch her and try to catch her eye when she is not focused on you. You squeal when she talks to you. You laugh from the joy of her company. When I first learned I was pregnant with you, I had a vivid image flit through my brain. It was of two little girls holding hands as they ran along the beach. It fills my heart to see that my girls are well on their way to being friends, and I know I am going to cry when I see my girls hand in hand on the shore.

Love and devotion,

Mama

Two Really Is Terrible

I have a confession to make: I find my 28.5-month-old daughter, E, trying. VERY trying. As in, I better understand why my stay-at-home grandmother became an alcoholic during her children's toddler years.

Today was a particularly bad day. E and M were both home from daycare with colds and fevers.* M was a little cranky, but she was fairly content to be attached to me either in the sling or the Bjorn. E, however, made it her mission to share her misery.

Today, she simultaneously wanted my company and did not want my company. For instance, if I were holding M, nursing M, talking to M, or otherwise paying attention to M, E would say, "my turn," and attempt to push her baby sister out of the way and sit on my lap. She also pulled M's hair and pinched her. I realize that jealousy is normal when there is a new baby present, but why did she wait five and a half months to start this? Just to mix things up, when I would approach M, to wipe the snot off her face or check her temperature, she would scream, "No, Mommy, no," and burst into frantic tears. Diaper changes were much the same. Even attempts to hug her were met this way.

When she wasn't yelling at me to stay away or begging to sit in my lap, she was busy removing every article of clothing. Seriously, I think we may have a stripper on our hands. Today, when she was clothed, she wore a hideous ensemble of her choosing: hot pink leggings, a pastel pink shirt with a whale on the front, and purple crocs. As much as the outfit disturbed me, I was more disturbed that in the time it took to rinse and replace a dropped pacifier, E was able to completely disrobe. If she were potty trained, it would be one thing, but so far she hasn't demonstrated any bladder control. To me, the sight of my naked toddler declaring, "I not wear pants and diapers," while standing on my good rug is anxiety provoking.

Then there was the whining. If there is an evolutionary advantage to whining, then our genes are safe. "I don't want Dora. I want Dora. I want WonderPets. The dolphin. I need the dolphin. I'm stuck. I don't want books. I want books. You do it, Mommy. You do it. I want crackers. I want to go bye-bye. My turn. My turn. I don't want a nap. I want water. I don't want water."

There must be an equation that quantifies the difficulty of raising a toddler. Something like four infants= one toddler. Or maybe it is three infants + inlaw=one toddler. Something. I do find the baby much, much easier than E.

Still, she has her moments. For instance, we are sort of potty training and what she lacks in bladder control, she makes up for in enthusiasm. This may explain why, when I use the toilet ** she says, "Good job, Mommy!"

If only I could have that positive immediate feedback for all my endeavors.


*I was shamed on Friday because E's cold was so bad that they copied the "sick child policy" page from the parent handbook and made me sign it. In my defense, she barely had the sniffles when I dropped her off that morning. How was I to know she would spike a fever of 101 and that her nose would start running like a snot river.
**I've given up on ever again going to bathroom in private.

Five months already

Someone recently told me that the hours go by slowly, but the days pass quickly; that sounds right to me. I find myself longing for a button so I might freeze time and drink her smell, feel that soft skin, and listen to her baby sighs. Of course, there are times I want to fast forward through the bad nights!

What is M doing at five months?

Her gross motor skills are more developed that E's were at this age.* She is sitting pretty well. She flops after a while, but she can support herself well enough to sit by herself (I'm in hover mode, of course). She picks up items and passes them from hand to hand. Last night, she became enraged because I was pumping rather than nursing her (hey! she was the one off schedule!). While I was fumbling with my very sexy and very fancy hands-free-pumping-bra, she managed to get on her hands and knees and actually scooted backward.

She has just started eating a little cereal and fruit. I'm hoping that the addition of solids will keep her milk consumption stable so I don't have to pump more frequently.** So far we have completely rejected rice cereal, accepted oatmeal and happily (just this morning) accepted a wee bit of pears in the oatmeal.

She is still a good humored child. She smiles and giggles throughout much of the day. She babbles to herself. She shrieks in a way that makes me think she is copying her doting big sister.*** She flirts with strangers at the supermarket and grins at cashiers. She laughs at our dogs. She laughs at the birds that come to the feeder outside the kitchen window.

She is not sleeping through the night, and I haven't had the heart to let her cry it out for longer than 20 minutes. It is time, I think. She wakes because she has flipped to her tummy and is mad (yes, she can flip both ways, but she seems unwilling to do this at 3 a.m.), and she wakes and cries for her paci. I'm looking forward to the day she figures out how to get the paci back in her mouth. I will leave them scattered throughout her crib.

I hear her waking from her nap. Must run. The day is going quickly.

*I am guilty of comparing my children to each other and to other children.
**I kept up with her this week. No dipping into my frozen stash!
***Is shrieking in a high pitch hardwired for girls? Did I do this? Did it make my mother a little crazy?