Can I get some wine with his wHining?

Dylan has been whining. It's driving me fucking nuts. He whines and cries about everything. The simplest request is a whine. We keep telling him to use his pretty voice and it works for a second. I haven't had the heart to just ignore him, but we're getting there.

He seems to be going through a little phase of being afraid and emotional about everything. If he doesn't want something he says it's scary or he's afraid. His eyes well up with tears at the drop of a hat. I'm not sure what's going on, but I think I have a pretty good idea.

The novelty of his sister has worn off.

Dylan was the center of our universe for over 4 years. A new little person has been on the scene for over 3 months now and I think it's starting to get a little old. She gets what she wants by crying so why shouldn't he? I imagine this is how the 4-year-old mind works.

It seems like the 4-year-old mind is in a strange place between toddler and kid. A little land where everything is the end of the world and you're not quite sure why. You know what you want and what you don't, but you're not quite sure why. You know the simple rules of right from wrong, but you aren't quite sure why one thing is right and the other is wrong.

The problem is that even if the 4-year-old mind asks why, it isn't quite mature enough to fully understand the answer.

As a parent, it's hard to look at the big kid standing in front of me and not to expect big kid behavior. Especially when the 4-year-old in question looks like he is 6. I have to constantly remind myself that he is still little. That he still needs snuggles and love and cuddles and his mommy to wipe away his tears. That he will always need those things.

But in the meantime, for the love of the mommy, please stop the whining.

She couldn't be cuter...

Actual comments from the boy

I've been keeping a log of the funny things D says. Here are some of the highlights...

"Mommy, my butt is broken. Can you fix it?" - after discovering his pj's had a hole

"Daddy and Ravi and me got busy at the park!" - telling me about a trip to the park

"Pacifiers, they need PACIFIERS!" - when asked what babies need

"Daddy, what's wrong with my sister?" "She's tired." "hmmm, I better go check with mommy."

"After I sleep then I will wake up."

That kid's a trip.

Soul Mates

Some of us are lucky enough to meet our soul mates. Some of us aren't. Most of the time, we're looking for that soul mate in the wrong person. I think most people look for their soul mate in the spouse/partner. Usually we find our soul mate in a friend.

In the 7th grade I met mine. I didn't know it at the time. As a matter of fact, I didn't like her then. We grew up and changed and eventually bonded over the craziness of our Jewish families and sneaked cigarettes in the woods by her house. We stayed up until all hours playing cards and drinking coffee in our local 24 hour restaurant/hangout. We got to know each other and shared our secrets. We talked of hopes and dreams and heartaches and sadness.

We became as close as sisters and barely went a day without seeing each other until we went off to college.

She is the one who called me out when I was neglecting friendships when I first met an ex-boyfriend. She held my hand and gave me a shoulder to cry when I stuck with the boyfriend too long and when I finally ended it. She never said "I told you so" and she never pushed me before I was ready.

She was the first to meet my husband when we started dating. He was terrified. He knew how protective I was of her and he knew she would be equally protective of me. Luckily, she approved. She was the maid of honor at our wedding and we knew we had every bit of support imaginable from her.

We are a package deal, my friend and I. Both our husbands know this. They knew coming into the marriages that they are getting both of us when they marry one.

She is the first person I want to call when something happens - engagement, pregnancy, birth, jobs, etc.

She turns 30 on Monday and I wish I was there to celebrate with her. To toast her and tell her how much I love her in person. To help her have an anti-climactic 30th bday for the same reason I had one - she's due with her first little one in a few months.

So, my dear friend, I wish you all the best in life. You are as much a part of me as my family. You are the sister I never had and the best friend I always hoped I would have. You have made a foot print on my heart that will never fade. You are the one I know I can tell my secrets to and I will never be judged. The one I know I can count on for the ear I need. The one who knows when something is wrong by the tone of my voice. The only one I miss so much sometimes I want to cry. The one I hope will someday live so close that I can see you whenever I want. The one whose children I will consider my own children's cousins. The one I would trust my children to if something were to happen to us. Thank you for being you and being a part of our lives.

Happy birthday. I love you.

What next?

Ok little girl, I love you. But really, I gave up vino when I got pregnant, next came sleep, next came caffeine, then nuts and now dairy? What's next? What's left?

A day in the life...

Inspired by Susan, whose day actually starts earlier than my own, I have decided to give everyone (no one?) insight into what it's like to be me. I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.

We're starting on Wednesday night:

11:15 crawl into bed
11:45 turn off lights after some reading
12:15 baby wakes up, nurse try to get her back to bed
1am - baby asleep, crawl into bed
2 - wake because she usually wakes up at the time, mind races with all the things I have to do
4 - ditto
6:20 - the boy comes into bed
6:30 - alarm goes off because that is what time I should be getting up to make it out of the house on time if I were working, we were supposed to start dry running this week - yeah right!
7:05 - D is bored with us trying to sleep, he goes and gets his animal books to read to us
7:30 - hop in the shower
8 ish - Sasha wakes up, nurse
8:45 - Get out of the house to take D to day care, screaming by Sasha begins since we're in the car
9:15- Leave D at daycare, head home, Sasha falls asleep
9:30 - Arrive at home, stay in car reading so as not to disturb the princess
10:15 - Sasha wakes up, go inside
10:45 - change diaper, nurse
11:00- Sasha in bouncer while I do some design work on my brother's wedding invitations
11:15 - leave for lunch with some friends, catch up with a former co-worker on the way
11:30 - pick up friends, go have lunch
12:30 - drop off friends, drive home while baby screams
12:45 - arrive at home playtime for S
1:30 - nurse, baby falls asleep
2:15 - put sasha down in her crib, she's asleep, do a happy dance, more design work
3:00 - Sasha cries, go pick her up and she immediately is back asleep
3:30 - Put Sasha in crib again, try to nap for a few minutes
4:15 - Sasha wakes up, nurse
4:45 - Sasha spits up in my hair
4:50 - take another shower
5:30 - go get D
6:15 - home from daycare, start dinner
7:00 - scarf down dinner while bouncing the baby in her bouncer
7:20 - change baby into jammies, nurse while D sits in bed with me singing and talking just so he can tell me the following "Mommy, can you say 'Please stop singing, Dylan.'?" He likes to script our conversations
7:50 - baby asleep
8:05 - I THINK I'm in the clear and can put her down in a few minutes
8:08 - mini meltdown
8:19 - put down baby, go say goodnight to D, go downstairs to watch some TV, check email, etc.
9:00 - Sasha wakes up crying, Dave goes to soothe
9:15 - Sasha cries again, I go to soothe
10:00 - up to bed, pump
10:45 - lights out
3am - baby wakes and here we go again

Caffeine Free and Half Asleep

I am currently living a caffeine free existence and it sucks. The princess gets fussy when I have caffeine. Even just a little bit. It makes me sad. It really does.

Yesterday I broke down and had to have coffee. I went to my beloved Caribou and got a half caf, skim latte with one Splenda. It was delicious. Sasha was ok, but not the best day.

This is how the night from Tuesday to Wednesday went. Lights out around 11:30 because I just can't seem to get to sleep any earlier and have a new book I'm reading so I stay up too late.

4:30 - Sasha wakes up
5:20am - Dylan comes in our room because he has to potty, crawls into bed with us (breaking my rule that if he comes in anytime before 6 he has to go back to his own bed) because I'm too tired to argue with him or deal with his dramatic pseudo meltdown
6:00 - FINALLY get Sasha back to sleep, convince D to go to sleep in our bed
6:30ish - I fall back asleep
8:20 - Wake up to D telling me that Sasha is waking up. He woke up to the monitor before we did. Nice.

The night before the princess was up from 2-3:30.

Last night she woke up at 12:15, about 10 minutes after I finally drifted off. She tried to pull this "mommy rock me to sleep in the middle of the night" business after she nursed and I refused. Swaddled her cute little tush up and put her in the crib. Popped the cork in and kept my hands on her for a few minutes, so she could feel my ever lovin' presence, until I felt her breathing fall into the slow rhythm of sleep and I left. It was 1am. She slept until about 8. Of course, since she is usually up at 2 or 4, I woke up at both of those times. Then D came in at 6:20 and crawled into bed with us.

How the hell am I going to have enough functioning brain cells to work in 2 weeks?

Rarely alone, frequently lonely

Lonely:
Pronunciation: 'lOn-lE
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): lone·li·er; -est1
a : being without company : LONE
b : cut off from others : SOLITARY
2 : not frequented by human beings : DESOLATE
3 : sad from being alone : LONESOME
4 : producing a feeling of bleakness or desolation


Motherhood is a lonely endeavor. Especially the first few months. Which is ironic, really. In the first few months of being a new mother (or an old mother to a new human) you are almost never without company. Almost never alone. Always in the company of the little person we are responsible for keeping alive. I find these first few months to be ridiculously lonely. But, I'm no stranger to loneliness.


I don't really remember a time when I didn't feel lonely. A time when I didn't feel like I was on the outside looking in. A time when I didn't feel like there was some sort of companionship I was missing.


I lead a full life. I have friends, a husband, children. We are frequently social, I have lunch with friends regularly. But the loneliness never seems to fully subside. It lurks around every corner like the monsters under the bed. The ones that come out when the lights are out and we're all alone. Only these monsters aren't mythical creatures, they are my own thoughts. The thoughts I share with no one because I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to admit, even to myself at times, that I am lonely. Because, I think, I shouldn't be anymore.

Yet, I know I'm not alone in my loneliness and that seems to make it not quite as lonely.

Loss

Last Friday night we had some very good friends over for dinner. They arrived and we offered them some beverages. B graciously accepted a beer right away and M declined some wine. I let it go. When we sat down to dinner and M still refused wine I had to ask if there was a reason. There was. She was 7 weeks pregnant, due 1 week before my birthday. We were thrilled for them. They are wonderful people and after 8 months of trying they most definitely deserved this happiness. We are confident they will make wonderful parents.

Friday I got a phone call from M letting me know she had miscarried Monday. She said they were both doing OK and that every day is getting a little easier. I feel awful for them. I can't imagine how it must feel to have to endure such a loss. How it must feel to be pregnant and then not be pregnant, without having a baby in my arms. I can't imagine the emptiness even after only knowing for a few days. I can't imagine how I would feel every year when my due date rolled around.

I just can't imagine.

This is what heaven feels like...

Let me begin by saying I love my children. But are they ever really any sweeter than when they are sleeping?

Right now, child #1 is playing happily at my parents house and child #2 is actually SLEEPING. In. Her. Crib. Unbelievable! This is the second day in a row that Sasha is taking a nap in her crib. Of course, now that I actually have the cojones to type that sentence, she will probably wake up. But, right now I am typing this while there isn't a child in sight. No "mommy!" every other second. No crying, no nursing. The sweet sound of just my fingers banging away on the keyboard and the white noise from Sasha's room coming through the monitor.

I have been on maternity leave for 13.5 weeks now and this is the 3rd time my daughter has napped in her crib. I'm very happy right now.

No naps for us

Read the baby books and they tell you to sleep when the baby sleeps. Nap while the baby naps. Use nap time to take time for yourself. That's fantastic advice, but what do you do when the baby doesn't nap, or only naps while being cradled in your arms?

You do:
watch endless hours of bad daytime television because you don't have a book to read and can't get to the bookstore or library to get a new one
occasionally fall asleep while holding the baby
figure out how to both hold the baby and use a laptop at the same time
spend a lot of time sitting on your ass thinking about all the things you could be doing if only the baby would sleep in her crib

You don't:
run errands because the baby hates her car seat and the car
get ANYTHING done
exercise (although let's be honest, I probably wouldn't anyway)
paint the rooms in the house I wanted to paint while on maternity leave (I can paint while the baby sleeps!)

4 more weeks

We attended my company picnic tonight and the same question was asked of me over and over again - when are you coming back? The answer is 4 more weeks.

That means I have 4 more weeks of seeing every smile, every tear, every blink and every everything my darling little girl emits.

I'm so torn on how I feel about going back to work. I know I am a better parent and wife when I work. I'm more balanced when I work. I get to go out of mom and wife mode for a little bit and turn into a little bit of different person. But at the same time, I know I will likely miss the first steps with Sasha, just like I did with Dylan. It was heartbreaking when Dave called me one day after picking D up from daycare and told me he had finally taken a couple of steps. I know I might miss the first word.

In 4 weeks I will no longer be there to rock her to sleep for naps and will no longer be there when she wakes up. In 4 weeks I will no longer nurse her throughout the day and feel her skin against mine. I will feel the cold hard plastic of breast pump cones instead. I won't be able to watch those beautiful eyelashes while she eats and watch them flutter in that yummy place between sleep and awake. I will watch the level on the bottle to make sure I pump enough for her to have milk for the next day. I won't get the smiles throughout the day which she gives me when she locks eyes with me. The smiles only I get. She smiles at other people, but those smile are a little bigger and brighter for me. The promise of that smile and the smile of her darling brother will get me through my day.

In 4 weeks I will have to hear about her days rather than live them. I will have to learn about my daughter's new accomplishments from another person rather than experience them myself.

In 4 weeks, I will drop my baby girl off for the day and will do it through tears just as I sit and type this through tears.

2 month stats

She grows, oh how she grows.

My little girl is now weighing in at a whopping 12 pounds 12 ounces (she was 6 pounds 8.5 ounces when we left the hospital) which puts her at the 90-95% on the charts. She is also 24" long which puts her at the 97% on the charts. Developmentally she is right on track.

Boob juice, it does a baby good.

The sick mommy

All the sleep deprivation of the last few months seem to have finally taken their toll and I am so totally and completely sick. Started on Monday and here I sit on Thursday still feeling like a hammer to the head would feel better than the sinus headache I am enduring.

Yesterday I made Dave take a sick day and today he pretty much played hookie. I've seen my daughter for feedings and have hardly seen my son at all. He misses me.

My big baby is almost 4.5 years old and I still think of him as my baby. He still has dimples on his hands rather than knuckles and still has yummy baby cheeks that I want to eat up. My little baby is developing chunk all over and also has yummy cheeks I want to eat up. I've had to keep my distance because I am sick.

I can't wait to eat those yummy cheeks again.

Dreams

Dylan has finally started telling us about his dreams. The other night he dreamt he went sledding with Dave and fell and slipped on the ice. It's made us laugh and has also made us very happy we're creating dream worthy memories with him.


Dreams are a strange thing. They are the images we see while our eyes are closed. They are wishes for the future. They reveal our fears, our desires. They allow us to relive our past and maybe get a glimpse into the future. I have had only one dream about my baby during both of my pregnancies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Sasha I had a dream I had a baby girl and she looked just like me. Well, here she is and she does.


We can even be stalked in our dreams. For years I would have dreams about a specific ex-boyfriend finding me. About running into him randomly and having to deal with the one person I never, EVER, want to see again. I think those dreams have finally stopped. But you never know when they might be back.


I feel I am at a point where I have stopped having dreams for myself. All my dreams these days are for my children. For them to grow up and be happy, be healthy, have fulfilling lives. To be educated, to value what that education brings to their lives and to someday have families of their own and know the love and happiness having children brings. I dream my children will be close the way my brother and I are to each other. To know that no matter what, they have each other. Yes, my dreams are for my children.


I have also come to realize I need to start dreaming for myself again, too. I need to think about myself in terms of me. Clara. Not always mom or wife. Sometimes it's just me and that it's ok to just think about me. To dream for just me. To dream about the places I'd like to go. The places I haven't been because I chose to have children young. To dream about the adventures I would like to have. To dream of the week long spa vacation with girlfriends I swear I will take someday to rediscover who I am without having to take care of my husband or kids. To dream of the business I will start someday. To work for myself and make my own rules. To truly benefit from my own work and know that my success or failure is based on me and me alone. To dream of perfecting a cheesecake one day - the only thing I bake. To dream of having the time to take a cooking class here and there.

Every night, the dreams keep coming and I hope they never stop.

2 Months

I won't lie, the last 2 months have been very trying. Sasha doesn't like sleep, she doesn't like to lay down on the floor, she doesn't really like her crib.

However, no matter what, the last 2 months have also been fantastic as I watch a new person take shape before my very eyes. And, since I am always to be in the room with the little babe, my eyes are on her all the time. Her best feature is her smile. When she smiles she is completely lit up from within. It's as if the sun is literally shining on me through her.

She's definitely a different baby than Dylan was. Dylan loved to lounge on his own and stretch out. Sasha loves to be held and cuddles in so close I feel like she is going to make her back inside of me. She isn't a big fan of sleep during the day and she fights sleep like crazy. The only somewhat easy way to get her to sleep is to rock her then hold her in tight for almost an hour. Then, and only then, can we even dare to put her down to sleep for the night. Thankfully, then she sleeps.

I have spent a lot of time over the last two months thinking about what it means to have a daughter. Hoping I have with her what I have with my own mother. Hoping and dreaming that I will be close with my daughter.

I hope I will be the one she confides in the first time she kisses a boy, the first time she falls in love, the first time her heart is broken and all the other firsts along the way. I hope I'll be self aware enough during those times to remember how it feels and to remember how I didn't want to hear not to get too excited about the love, or that the heartbreak will end. I hope to remember that all I wanted was for someone to listen and be just as excited as I was or cry along side me. And, when or if she asks, I hope the have the courage to do something my own mother never did - to share my own experiences. The good, the bad, and the VERY ugly to help her learn about life.

I hope I have the courage to be honest with her when she asks me the hard questions. The questions that make me relive my past or reveal my pre-mom self to her. What was your first love like? Have you ever done drugs? When did you lose your virginity? What are your regrets in life? And when she asks me the toughest question of all , "What should I do?" I hope I have the strength to guide her to discover the answer on her own rather than just giving her the answer.

Who I Was

Every now and then a person resurfaces from our past and reminds us of who we were before we knew who we were. Before we went through the self-discovery and self-awareness that comes with moving away from home, going through relationships, getting married and having children.

This happened to me recently. I was contacted by someone from my past who has made me reflect. He's made me reflect on the naive kid I was when I knew him.

I was a motorcycle jacket wearing, concert going, cigarette sneaking 15-year-old girl who so desperately wanted to be older. To move on to what was "important." To move on to college, moving out of mom and dad's house, on to career, to marriage, to family. I was so concerned with what the future might hold I never properly enjoyed the moment.

In true teenage girl fashion, EVERYTHING was the end of the world. I was much weaker then than I would like to admit. I hurt too easily. I took everything to heart. Every friendship was to last forever and every word spoken cut me to my core.

I was the girl who trusted everyone and loved too easily. I was the girl who took longer to get over her first heartbreak than the relationship lasted in the first place. I learned a lot in the process of getting over it and I'm eternally grateful for that learning. I learned that I would not allow anyone to take away my happiness or, rather, allow myself to think it had been taken. I learned that my happiness is in my own hands. I know no one can dictate how I feel except for me.

There are other things I learned the year I knew my old friend. I learned girls are mean and will stab you in the back in a blink of an eye if it suits their needs. I learned that some friendships are only meant to exist for short periods of time.

Since then, I learned that some lessons if life hurt like hell while you are going through them, but are worth it in the end. I've also learned I wouldn't be who I am without having been who I was.

Oh the blues...

I have the baby blues and I think my baby also has the blues.

Sasha is doing well, in general. However, she's still awfully sleepy which can be attributed to the fact that she is, apparently, anemic and still jaundiced. The plan for treatment is "wait and see" for now. She also has reflux which means when she is sleeping she frequently wakes to let out a cry of discomfort. For that, she's on Zantac. We're hoping to see an improvement in her comfort in the next couple of days.

I have the baby blues. I'm really hoping it's not full-fledged PPD, but not entirely sure yet. All in all, things are going well in our little house. Dylan is well adjusted, Dave has been great, Sasha is generally OK. BUT, the combination of sleep deprivation and hormones have produced almost daily crying jags for ME. It's always in the evening when it seems like things are starting to wind down. Not coincidentally, it's also when Sasha goes into her 2-3 hours of cluster feeding every 45 minutes.

I can't even describe what I feel. It's a combination of hopelessness, uselessness, exhaustion, helplessness and failure. I feel I'm failing I'm oldest by not being able to tuck him in before bed some nights because my youngest is nursing. I'm failing my youngest because she has a couple of issues. I'm failing my husband because I'm losing it and can't even get dinner on the table. I'm failing myself because I can't let myself take a night off and sleep in a different room for fear of failing my baby by not nursing her.

I'm also very down about myself physically. I'm not one of those women who feels proud of her body after baby. I see a body which is 6 pounds away from prepreg weight and has been stuck there for 3 weeks. I see a woman who has a saggy belly and veiny boobs. I see love handles which never existed before. Yes, because of the blues I mentioned above, I can't bring myself to do anything about it.

I'm hoping it will all change soon.

SHE's here...

A day late and a dollar short I am happy to announce we had a baby girl. Her name is Alexandra Naomi, we'll call her Sasha, and she's wonderful.

Stats:

Born May 16, 2007 @ 9:42 am weighing in at 6lbs. 15.4 ozs. and measuring 20 inches.

At one month, she's already almost 10 lbs.

Delivery was very smooth with me pushing for a total of 5 minutes. The lack of pushing almost made up for the 7.5 hours of unmedicated back labor that preceeded delivery.

Dylan has, as expected, adjusted beautifully. He's ridiculously protective and possesive of his baby sister and also ridiculously understanding of the fact that mommy can no longer be at his beck and call because I have to feed his sister. All. The. Time.

Waiting Game/Crying Game

Waiting Game

Tomorrow I am officially 38 weeks pregnant. I don't think I could be any more sick of being pregnant than I am right now. Although, I'm sure next week I will be even sicker of it. I am so ready to meet this little person. Ready to make his or her aquaintance and look into what are sure to be beautiful eyes which allow me to see into a beautiful new soul. I can't wait to go home and be a new family, again. To experience all the ups and downs of having a newborn. I even can't wait to press this baby to my chest and nurse him or her. Although, I expect that, as with Dylan, the nursing will be painful for quite some time. I want to count fingers and toes and stare. Stare with awe at the new life. Stare at myself with awe at how my belly which was full of baby just a few moments ago is empty and I am now holding that baby. I remember that so well with D. Looking at him in those first few minutes and looking at myself and wondering how I did that. How he was now breathing and blinking and moving and just minutes prior he was still inside of me. It's mind boggling.

I'm tired of waiting.

Crying Game

Hormones are crazy and at the moment they are in their full raging glory. I have been an emotional basket case lately and have been crying at the drop of a hat. Crying out of sadness, joy, frustration, anger and just plain old impatience.
As I have reread my last post, it has brought tears to my eyes every. single. time. The hormones are to blame, in part. The bigger part is taking a few moments to reflect in my own mommy awesomeness and the impact that has made on my son. He's such a great kid - happy, fun, smart, compassionate, passionate. All the things I hope he holds on to forever. All the things I hope I can keep fostering as I parent another child and all the things I hope I can instill in the baby.