Archive for March, 2010

March 31st, 2010

sixhoursstraight

i think, maybe just maybe, please lord don’t jinx me, we can take down the white flag. it seems that, for the moment, the sleep gods have answered my prayers. jackson’s screams have, dare i say it, subsided.

in fact the last two nights my almost 2 year old has hunkered down in his ‘big boy bed’ (crib w/ toddler rail), closed his eyes, and uttered not a peep nor a cry. creeping down the stairs was surreal. ok, made it down the first 3 – no sound. three more – still nothing. hit the bottom, turned around looked up – nada. started post-bedtime clean up routine expecting only to make it through one room before the cries commenced and ended up on couch, under cozy blanket, with a glass of wine and a completely clean first floor. still nothing. oh thank you, thank you, thank you.

and in fact, that little man of mine slept all the way through the night. all the way until 7 the next morning. which has never, i mean NEVER happened. and even when his sister, cutting her first two teeth, fighting a sinus infection and adapting to her new room, woke and cried more than ever before jackson snoozed away. and not worrying and fretting and stressing about my son was so refreshing and so needed. talk about a happy kid? eleven hours of beautifully uninterrupted sleep = a smiley, only moderately whiny toddler. he’s been cracking jokes, talking in funny voices (new favorite thing) and making his sister laugh and laugh and laugh. total and complete awesomeness.

i’m sure this stage is short lived – who knows what will come of the next weeks and months. but i do know how grateful i am, even for three little days of brilliance. looks like jackson, or our angels, heard my mayday call.

last night, harper had a rough start but ended sleeping from midnight until i woke her at 7:30. and this meant, that i slept from midnight until 6 (when jackson awoke). and it was the kind of sleep in which your body doesn’t move; just sound, wonderful, perfect, deep sleep. and i caught the ever so slight glimpse of what sleeping all night every night might be like. how quickly the first 26 years of sleeping this way was forgotten the moment i had children. and i bet, how quickly sleeping, or not, the past two years will soon be a fleeting memory of the past.

as my grandma mary would say, this too shall pass. and it has, for now, in this form. like many of you said, our world is constantly changing and shifting. no two moments are alike and the tough days as well as the glorious ones will wax and wane. i’m not sure anything demonstrates this better than parenthood.

until the white flag is raised again my friends.

March 25th, 2010

mayday

ok, this was waiting to meet harper, but the expression fits

ok, i know the whole sleep (or lack of) topic is totally overdone. at least by this momma. and trust me, i’m so sick of talking, discussing, troubleshooting, worrying and the day to day drain that comes with it i could almost scream. that is if i had any energy left at all. (not to mention an almost two year old who does enough of it for the whole state.) 

the quick (or maybe not so much) over view is this:

at bed time: we have a great little routine of bath/jammies/books/cuddling that’s been almost the same since he was 7 wks old. he loves reading books, is calm, unwound and climbs willingly into his bed after a big squeeze and kiss. enter first foot on staircase, cue the screams. last night he was in bed at 8 and didn’t fall asleep until 9:10. with 2-3 trips up to talk to him, rub his back, calm him down (we’ve also tried the, er, more stern method of lay down, stop crying it’s bed time (under the breath f bombs and all) all ending in, yes, just more screams. 

(he has seen his pedi, is otherwise healthy and happy. this has been happening a few times per week (varying in length of screams) for months now) 

during the night: waking up randomly out of a dead sleep and screaming. calling for mommy and daddy. some nights for a few minutes until he falls back asleep, others for upwards of an hour or more and after several trips in for comforting. experience shows that the more we go in, the more he expects it and the worse it gets. but it’s just so hard. 

many nights one of us end up sleeping on the twin bed in his room and he climbs in with us, stops crying and falls right to sleep. 

so far, harper has yet to be seriously effected by his cries. so far. and thank the good lord. 

nap time: for months and months nap time was a breeze. some days he would even ask for it. in the crib, snuggled right in and out for the count. now, not so much. just more of the same night habits. lovely, i know. 

so, here’s what little i do know. he obviously is looking for comfort and is needing our company/support/physical presence during sleeping times. i already have one kid in our room and can’t handle another one. nor do i want to start that habit. and really, sleeping in his room is not working either. 

our pedi has ruled out any sort of “night terror” as he is fully aware and responds to our voices/actions. 

tonight i’m going to try music. our pedi recommended putting the kids together. maybe harper’s presense will help. so, as soon as harper gets into her room (next few weeks) we may put a mattress on her floor for jackson and give him the option? 

that’s all i got. 

completelyfried in connecticut, 

hannah 

 
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March 18th, 2010

boobs with milk

Mother and child clay figure found at nami island in korea. photo

mother and child clay figure found at nami island in korea

a friend of mine recently asked for help (in the form of thoughts, prayers, energy) as she began the weaning process with her 12 month old son. in a recent update, both momma and babe have successfully weaned, but not without some pangs (at least on momma’s end) for the closeness and nuances they shared during these moments. and it got me thinking, and appreciating, these oh so tender minutes i get each and every day with my little bean. and how it’s equally me that’s the lucky one in this relationship.   

unless you live under a rock (which apparently much of this country does, as it turns out) you know that breast feeding your child is one of (if not the)most important things you can do for them in their first year. ok, there are tons of other important things that i won’t attempt to list here but breastfeeding is a biggie. i could go on for a few years about the hundreds of benefits to babe, momma and society at large, but i suppose i’ll save that one for later.  

jackson nursed for seven months, until he self-weaned. he was a moose and loved to eat and i wasn’t sure i could really ever keep up. but i did, for a while. and then it seemed that his desire for a bowl and spoon overpowered that for his momma’s milk. i wasn’t sad. i was happy and proud that we had the run we did and honestly at that time couldn’t really imagine nursing him for much longer. did i mention he was a moose? my mindset then was to provide as much nutrients as i could. if he got seven months of liquid gold, that was great.  

but this time around, i’m really enjoying nursing harper. and it’s not that i didn’t with jackson – but it felt different then; like i was doing it because i knew it was the right thing to do. now it’s much more than that. not only do i envision that milk packed full of all things powerful and great (i visualize this colorful swath of liquid, bright and bold and strong tumbling down her throat and into her tiny body making it strong and resilient and magical) i crave the connection, warmth and closeness like a drug (or, glass of wine in my case).  

and because someday when i’m old and harper is a strong, resilient and magical woman i may not remember, here are the little things i love about nursing my daughter:  

- the scent of her little head; sweet baby skin with a hint of baby shampoo  

- the feeling of her compact, sturdy little body perfectly tucked into mine  

- on our sides, her head nestled into the space under my arm, her feet rhythmically kneading the tops of my bent thighs   

- her free hand ever so gently and slightly moving from my chest to my throat to my face and back again  

- her own hand, palm down, massaging her cheek, ear and head, hovering and stopping over her eyes  

- reaching, every time without fail and in the darkest of night, for the necklace (s) hovering over my collarbone. finding my pendants and clanging them together; their sweet melody encircling us  

- talking and singing and gazing into her lovely eyes  

- the back and forth latch-on, latch-off as smiling eyes and a big, toothless, grin emerges and re-emerges to say hello  

- her long starfish-like fingers, splayed open and wide against my skin  

- the sweetly thunderous groan of a hunger being satisfied  

- the ever so slight quiver in her lips  

- the transition to long, deep breaths that signal a full tummy and sleeping lady  

i could go on for a long time, but sitting here typing  i realize i won’t need words to remember. like the moment i first saw harper’s precious face; a second in which all of time stood still and the day she looked at me with twinkling eyes and smiled. these are the moments that make my heart soar, treasures that have become a part of me, like freckles and brown eyes.  

for those of you honored enough to have nursed your child, you get it. for those of you who desperately wanted or tried to but without success, i am sorry. and for those of you who choose not to for whatever reason, as much as i respect that decision, i’ll never really understand it. for you have missed out on one of the truly more beautiful things in this world.  

there will come a day when i pack away the nursing tanks and bras. when my medela pump takes a permanent vacation and the freezer door becomes home, once again, to frozen peas and boca burgers instead of my milk. the day will come when jackson will point at my chest and say ’harper!’ and i will become a blubbering mess. and yes, the day will come when i pack up these size c bras and regretfully dig to the back of my drawer for those pre-prego and pre-nursing a’s and b’s. damn, that might just be the toughest of all. sigh.  

but i’m quite sure, never will i feel as important, worthy and powerful a momma as i do with milk in my boobs. it’s the plain and simple truth.  

yay, boobs. yay boobs with milk. yay, yay, yay.

March 16th, 2010

tuesday bluesday

the house is still. there is no movement beyond my fingers upon this keyboard and the quick shallow breaths of a dog laying in the sunshine of the doorway, panting. the sky is blue, the clouds are low and long like brush strokes from a water color. they have a name, clouds like these. my friends becky and ro would know. nimbus, maybe? or is that just a janet jackson song…

jackson cried himself to sleep again this afternoon. after several minutes of in and out of the crib with its new toddler rail, and finally a leg throwing tantrum alongside the door, i decided to turn the crib around so the toddler rail side was against the wall. and wallah, from toddler bed to baby crib once more. to say i’m done with the screams and tears and general boycotting of naps and anything sleep is an extreme understatement. it’s been, oh 23 months. come on magical 24, i know you can show me the sleep. please?

most babies fall asleep to the quiet hum of a fan or the sweet melody of a lullaby. nope, not mine. since her fourth day on earth she has been lulled to sleep my the screetching, flailing, mirror-shattering screams of her big brother. good lord imagine what the long term side effects of this could be. ok, can not go there. must.think.positively.

the one thing i do know is that harper is the happiest, most smiley and aware little being that i’ve met. so whatever terrible things listening to her brother screaming day and night could do, she seems to channel and release quite well. but it also seems quite clear that these two little people already have their own little language. so, maybe in his own way jackson is apologizing and letting her know that he does it only to torture his poor parents. and obviously, harper thinks this is just devine as she giggles and smiles and enjoys every minute of it.

i’m so being onced-over, aren’t i? or i suppose twiced-over would be more accurate.

oh mother f*&^#$, here we go. it’s been 32 minutes. hello again toddler whimpers, i’ve missed you so.

breath.

breath.

breath.

although you feel so frustrated you could just snap…

breath.

the sun is shining, spring is near. this is good. there are skinny cows in the freezer. this too, is good. it’s american idol night; i must go on. the mortgage has been paid and i’m thinking turkey burgers on the grill for dinner. it’s the little things that keep my mind busy and these mis-matched feet moving forward. 

breath.

breath.

anyone interested in a smallish, green eyed almost two year old?

ok, that was wrong.

breath.

my 32 minutes of heaven is up. even the dog has roused and wandered over for some water. one doesn’t need to be a dog whisperer to know she’s also thinking, oh mother f*&^#$, here we go.

that’s my random, no- real-meaning post for today. just another day livin the dream.

boy could i use a martini and a yoga class. preferably together, thank you.

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March 10th, 2010

basket hoop

my son is totally and utterly, eating, breathing, sleeping (heh), through and through, screaming: boy. i envision his blood cells silhouettes of tractors, buses and loaders. his heart, colored white with red stitching, the word “rawlings” scrolled across.

from day one (or maybe 9 mos) give the kid a ball or a bat and he’ll amuse himself. and not just ball and bat together, like baseball but bouncy balls, tennis balls, basketballs, soccer balls, any of em. i might be biased in saying, although our suspicions have been confirmed by other tot-sized parents, that he’s got one hell of an arm, kick and coordination. (obviously from me.)

we’ve tried to not pigeon hole our son as a boy, boy. we didn’t decorate the nursery with a sporting theme (retro fish, seemed more appropriate?). we urged all kinds of toys and play and pointed out all the wonderful things in the world besides football and touchdowns. although, let me add here that i should use the term ‘ we ‘  loosely. point in case:  i happened to be walking past the living room a couple of months ago to see justin and jackson playing. jackson was pitching to justin, who swung and missed. without prompt, my one and half year old yells out, “strike one!”. hmmm, i think they’ve played this game before…

fall came and with it football. if i had to estimate the number of times i heard, ‘throw the ball!’ and ‘run, run, run, touchdown!’ i’d say it falls somewhere between 14 and 16 bagillion.

winter came and football decided to stay. along with baseball (of course) and new favorites like bowling (or any kind of rolling) and soccer.

now spring is, please dear lord, quickly approaching and with it the echoing thuds of neighborhood kids playing basketball. and with that, a very inquisitive almost 2 year old and ‘dribble, dribble!’, ‘shoot the basketball!’ and my favorite, ‘shoot the basket hoop!’. 

earlier this week i decided (and was forced) to get creative as jackson was running up and down the hall dribbling his beach ball and shooting it into my plant.

one felt pirate hat, a pair of scissors and some duct tap later…walah! a hoop!

talk about a hit. the above image remained the same from 3pm to 5pm.

the next morning,my neighbor joe is at the door pointing  to the end of the driveway where he’s placed a real life, tot-sized basketball hoop. a hami-down from his son christopher. as jackson would say, ooooohhhh mam.

and my suspicions were so on point that the definitely-for-outdoor-use hoop, ended up inside our house. water weighted base and all. (it was a windy, cool-ish day, harper was done with outside and at that point, day 6 of solo parenting, i would have drilled the damn thing into the living room wall if that’s what he wanted.)

please spring, come quickly. the walls are closing in. i’ve got a slide/climbing contraption and a basketball hoop in my already too small home and apparently, a toddler ready for the nba.


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