If you're reading this, thanks for sticking through my last venting blog entry. I love my children so much, truly to the moon and back and then some. With that said, I still have days where they drive me crazy. I'll actually go ahead and say it - I'm an extremely patient person, kind of a requirement if you are going to survive spending 24/7 with a 2 year old and a 1 year old. But I have my days, especially in January, my least favorite month of the year. I genuinely don't want my blog to sound like a complain fest but there's some cathartic about blogging your honest thoughts and feelings. There's something oddly liberating about admitting to the world that you are an imperfect human who gets frustrated.
Just wanted to say that. It was one of those blogs where I hit publish and then immediately texted Brian like, "wait, did I just do something really bad?" He's totally a biased person to ask because his response is always, "Nope. It's honest."
I'm here today to actually talk about the kids and how much they are growing and changing. I can't help but be so proud of them. It's cliche (and I've said it many times before) but this is my favorite age so far. No, it's certainly not without challenges or bad days but the kids get more fun by the day.
We are in this whole new phase of a sibling friendship slash rivalry. It actually took us a long time to get to "fighting", I think. I think this is because Patrick has been so easy going that he used to be willingly dominated by Hartley. But not anymore. He is becoming a toddler with his own idea of what he wants now. They fight over things like toys but also attention. Also, gone are the days of giving something to Hartley and not to Patrick. Like juice boxes are a "big kid" thing in my house because they can be so messy but Patrick now has to have his juice box, too. The rivalry/fighting is a hard thing but if I'm being honest, a lot of the time I let them kind of sort it out on their own. I definitely intervene if it's big enough but I also want them to learn how to work through this stuff without me constantly playing referee.
Another thing we're currently working on in our house is self-care. Now, people are going to read what I'm about to say and laugh, and I totally get it, you are free to LOL at this. A big thing is walking. Yes, both of my children, and this is fueled by rivalry, are only wanting to be carried. It's straight up crazy. For a few weeks there I was carrying each down the stairs one at a time, same with to the car. Finally, my body started to ache so badly that I decided I couldn't do it anymore. At almost 1.5 years old and almost 3, they are totally able to walk so I'm trying to give in to the carrying thing less.
For Patrick, that boy just loves, and I mean LOVES, being a baby. He loves to be picked up and carried. Of course, then Hartley wants it because Patrick is getting it. And let's get real, while I often think of myself as a mini pony, I can't carry 70 pounds around. And I also can't take two trips to the car or up and down the stairs all day.
I'm also trying to get them to come and sit on our entryway bench to have their shoes put on; I was getting so tired of chasing them around in the morning and tackling them to get on their shoes. Wrestling Patrick is like wrestling a wild boar. The kid is crazy. I'm working on them walking to and from the car, only lifting them and fighting them when I need to buckle them into their carseats ;)
Hartley I've actually started unbuckling and letting her slide herself out of her seat when I unload. I've just been trying to get her more self sufficient and trying to save my back.
I've also been working on getting Hartley to help with certain things. Cleaning up goldfish she spills, we're at like a 10 percent success rate on that ;) I'm trying to have her take off her own coat if I unzip it. I actually hung a couple hooks by the door so I'm going to eventually have her take down and hang up her coat. She can put on her rain boots, and sometimes even on the correct feet! It's seriously the cutest thing ever to watch her walk around with her shoes on wrong. She's so proud of putting them on, and it's the sweetest thing.
Other big things she's helping with is sometimes bringing Patrick a snack or finding her drink cup. "I go get it, Mama!" I've actually gotten to have her help carry in groceries a couple times recently!
I'm sure a lot of these things are tiny for kids her age but it's been hard not jumping in to help her with everything and watching her have to try to do things on her own a little bit. But once she gets it, she's so proud, and it's always worth the frustration and tears we see along the way.
And while I love that my baby boy loves being a baby, I'm having to push him a little, too. I'm finding that to be hard. More often than not I think Patrick is my last baby so I want to prolong his babyhood as much as I can. But truth be told, I'm physically starting to not be able to carry him as often as he'd like. There's a gigantic part of me that just wants to tell him to take as much time as he can growing up but at the end of the day, my body is saying it can't do it.
I also thought for a bit that Patrick's growth had slowed but it hasn't. Being around friends from his playgroup or other toddlers at the playground, I realize he is still massive. The kid is a beast. He still looks like a gigantic baby as opposed to having that little boy toddler look. It cracks me up. What we must look like together, my 5 foot 2 self carrying around the world's largest 1.5 year old.
He is a total mama's boy. He just started giving me kisses right on the mouth. Those big ol slugs come at me nice and slobbery, and he blurts out a loud "MWAH!" He loves to clap and make music. He likes being read to. He's learning new words little by little bur in true boy fashion he's not in a rush to talk. He mainly says, "car" "bus" "mama" and "bub gup" (that last one means the show Bubble Guppies). He's actually got a minimum of a dozen words but he mainly says those four! We'll be driving down the street and it's all "CAH! CAH! CAH! BUH!" from the backseat. He calls out every car and bus he sees. It's ridiculously cute and silly.
He loves Pete the Cat. My dad actually calls him Pete the Cat sometimes. I bought Patrick a Pete the Cat Valentine book that came with paper Valentine's in it. He loves giving his mom Valentine's. Today he'd hand me a slobbery valentine and shout a demonstrative, "HERE!" The book also came with a poster; so shock of the century, Patrick's first poster is not a Celtics or Patriots one, it's of a groovy beatnik Cat ;)
He is now in a forward facing car seat. I know that's probably a horrific thing to many modern moms but the kid couldn't fit backwards anymore, and I could've lift him into the backwards car seat anymore so it actually had to be that way.
We are pretty much down to one nap a day unless he's having an off day. We are trying to kick the bottle but he loves the bottle so it's been a struggle.
Ok, I was going to write a boatload about Hartley because all of a sudden starting yesterday she's had an incredible language burst but I have written too much already! But in the next few days I plan on a serious Hartley update. I actually just scheduled her next meeting with her developmental pediatrician for March so I'm actually going to be making more of a point to chronicle and record her development leading up to that. Sometimes I get into those appointments and feel like I should've written more down to "present", so my goal is to be more prepared this time :)
Thanks for reading another crane babes novel. Happy weekend!
So I really haven't blogged this January. For the most part I've been in this very good, healthy zen state. Not because life is perfect. Every single one of us has already had a cold in the 19 days that have made up this year. My kids fight like cats and dogs... daily. And my healthy eating is sabotaged every other day by the energy slump that accompanies being a stay at home mom to two toddlers. But almost every day I've found something to be grateful for. I've been able to see the bigger picture. I've genuinely enjoyed my days.
But today I'm coming on here not in my positive, zen state. I'm coming on here for a moment to vent. To clear my mind of the jumble that's being floating around. And hopefully once I've purged these thoughts, I can take a deep breath and just move on.
Before Hartley was diagnosed with ASD, I once saw a meme on Facebook that got me thinking. It was a cartoon a friend posted of a skeleton in a rocking chair that said, "me waiting for my ASD child to fall asleep". At the time, ASD was on our radar for Hartley. I never knew there was a correlation between autism and sleep disorders. The cartoon actually prompted me to research. What I came across is that it is believed that up to 80 percent of children on the autism spectrum suffer from sleep disorders. I remember reading that and thinking it was just another thing that supported the possibility that Hartley had autism.
I can't tell you how many hours I've researched how to get a baby/toddler to sleep. If that number was actually put in front me I'd probably want to cry at the amount of life I've wasted. Napping has been a problem for Hartley literally since infancy. Eventually her doctor told me that Hartley (when she was a baby) could have 1 "morning nap" and 1 "afternoon nap", in which she'd spend a quiet hour in her crib for each. We actually did this all the way up until she was 18 months old, which is when I had Patrick.
There were days as a baby where she didn't nap. Usually she'd nap for one of the hours and not the other. Regardless, I did get a "break".
The older she got the harder naps became and the harder it was for her to fall asleep at night.
Nothing works for her. You name it, we've tried it. Lavender room spray. Lavender Oil in her bath. No screen time for several hours before sleep. A white noise machine. Only calming books. A strict routine. Laying down with her.
Some days she doesn't nap and she still stays up until 10 or 11 pm. Some weeks she'll only nap once (they are supposed to still be napping daily at two years old).
And for a long time I thought I was okay with it. Yes, I'd prefer to have a child with fantastic sleep habits (like Patrick actually!) but it isn't in the cards for me so why dwell? I actually came to this realization a while back, some people's parenting lot is harder than others but if you think about it that way all the time, you'll drive yourself completely mad. So I decided to try my hardest to kick the green eyed monster me who was envious of all the people who had children who napped - even though she still comes out every now and then.
A few days ago Hartley didn't nap. Instead she tore out all of the pages in the Olivia Fairy Princess book I had bought her for her second birthday. She ripped out all the pages and tore them up into tiny little pieces. Brian wasn't happy but I just wanted to maintain my January zen so I just figured we'll buy her a replacement once she learns not to tear up books, whenever that may be. I tried to get her to clean it with me but I ended up crawling around on the floor by myself picking up all these scraps of paper and stuffing them into a trash bag. It hurt to shove the adorable turquoise book cover - this was not a remotely green moment - in the bag but what's a Mom to do, right?
Yesterday afternoon, my zen January streak ended. That woman who calmly crawled around searching for paper scraps was gone. This woman who'd played the Pollyanna game for several weeks just didn't have it in her anymore.
It was another day of Hartley not napping. Now, not napping is annoying, but what I hadn't mentioned is that when Hartley isn't remotely well rested, she is on another level. The vast majority of things she says are just non sensical. She has these super hyper spells. She simply can't focus at all. She's extremely fragile. I mean, the kid has a meltdown if you ask her to take a bite of her pizza dinner. And after a few hours filled with crying, hitting her brother, gibberish, screaming - I just put her upstairs in her room, and I called Brian crying.
I swear, 98 percent of the time I'm this woman who loves that my child is "quirky". I think it's wonderfully endearing that she says it's Christmas on a random Tuesday or tells me "Happy Mother's Day" in January. I laugh about the fact that we listen to the same song over and over again every day in the car (The Peanuts Movie song that Meghan Trainor sings - Better When I'm Dancing). I even have thought about how cute it is that my daughter likes to sleep with random objects in her bed or lines up her fruit loops.
But the past couple no nap days, I'll admit I've thought - I'm not cut out of this. My daughter is almost three and I just want her to rest so she can focus and learn. I want her to get that sleep that helps her grow and develop. I desperately want us to get to a point where I can ask her a question and have her do more than repeat the last couple words back to me.
And I know very well that it could be worse. That thought even makes me feel even guiltier! Because some mothers have kids that don't talk at all; they would kill to be in my shoes. But at the same time, I know most mom's of girls my daughter's age can ask them a question and get something. And the vast majority of the time, I can't. And on the days she can only bounce off the walls and speak extra oddly, I just feel like we are climbing the steepest mountain in the world.
She's getting better and better with her social skills and her language skills but wow, none of that progress is without work. None of it happens without some amount of struggle.
I've become this woman who is almost always okay with that. I actually shock myself at how much I genuinely don't care that my child is developing a little differently or a little behind the curve. The other day when her teacher said Hartley's not at a point where she's ready to start potty training, I actually felt relief! I actually thought, oh the joys of not having to race to hit these milestones because we get to do everything at our own beautiful pace.
But sometimes that woman is nowhere to be found.
I'm writing this not to say, "woe is me". I don't feel that way. But I write this to purge my negative thoughts. To spew them out of myself so I can clear my head and rally on. To get back to my January zen. Because apparently coffee and wine can't fix everything, and some how this space seems to help me.
Today is the third day in a row where Hartley won't nap. It will surely be another long afternoon of jumbled speech and walking on eggshells. But now that I've emptied my frustrations, I feel like I can do it. I can calmly and patiently make it until Brian comes home with a fresh amount of patience and sensitivity.
Here we are - 2017. How is that even possible? I still see Lifetime movie descriptions with original air dates of the early 2000's and think, "oh good! A new one!"
Even though time seems to just go faster the older I get (I'm assuming that due to the relativity of it to my life), I'm very happy for it to be 2017.
I actually hung my 2017 calendar a week before the new year started. I actually am fortunate not to be someone who had a bad 2016; I've addressed it on here as a "growing" year. But I'm one of those people who loves the restart button, the idea with a new bit of time, anything is possible. And how 2017 is my year to just be. Just exist and honestly, take a little better care of myself.
Brian and I recently talked about the tremendous amount of change we've undergone in the last handful of years. I feel like we've done it all: two moves, a couple promotions for Brian, big house renovations, fertility treatment, two pregnancies, two babies. He said how finally this year would finally be our year to just focus on health and happiness, which has me so excited about this year.
I have some resolutions. The first three days of the new year I was a dieting queen but then today happened, and the carbs came right back to me. But my new way of looking at things is that there will be days like this, and that's okay as long as they are the exception and not the rule! While I genuinely love raising my babies, waking up sick myself and then having two babes with fevers and the snotty nose works isn't the easiest of days; if a frozen pizza lunch helps get us through, then so be it. In 2016, frozen pizza became a crutch more often than I even care to admit. This year I'm trying to reserve it more for the "survival days".
In a little over a month, Hartley turns 3, and Patrick will be 1.5. While they are tiring, I'm pretty in love with these ages. I can't get over how Hartley has become so engaging: pointing things out to me and asking me questions. While every mom I know seems to be saddened by their child aging, I've just found myself relishing in it. I love watching her grow and learn and seeing her personality develop. I've said it before and I'll say it again - she truly is the sweetest kid. I've been sneezing up a storm today and she never lets a sneeze go without saying, "bless you, mama." Today we were watching Frozen, and Hartley turned to me with a concerned look on her face and said, "oh no, Anna's sad, mama." I'm actually floored at her starting to express such sweet, genuine concern for others. To anyone afraid of the "terrible twos", I'll say I've actually really loved two. There can certainly be tantrums but getting to watch your toddler develop into a little person is so amazing and rewarding.
Now I will say with Hartley I was not a fan of the 15-18 month age range. This might have had something to do with it being sweltering and me being very pregnant. But it was an era in which her little body could physically get into so much trouble because her brain wasn't listening to me at all. So I've basically dreaded this chapter with Patrick. And honestly, it's been a fun chapter for me! This is the age where you really get your exercise but he doesn't run half as fast as Hartley did at this age, and he actually does listen to "stop" so it feels like a breeze in comparison! He interested and curious when it comes to his surroundings but by nature he's a little cuddle bug so he's easy to reign in. Pick up a stack of books to read and put that boy in your lap, and he's happy as a clam. He is very much Hartley's shadow. He wants to do everything she does but the problem is the kids tries to eat EVERYTHING. With that said I feel I can safely say that Crayola is as non-toxic as they claim to be.
2017 I have all these goals and ideas in mind. I actually bought myself a really pretty notebook so I can take to listing everything. A lot of the goals focus on me. Not just losing weight or exercise but taking care of my stress levels and mental/emotional health. I feel like that's all pretty connected. I decided to quit the bs of resolving to be a better mom. I'm not a perfect mom but I'm a really fantastic mom to my kids, and I actually think the area I need to work on is remembering myself from time to time.
My 2017 victories so far: we made use of the 1 truly gorgeous day we had by spending family time outside at the park. I'm 3 for 4 for healthy home cooked dinners; 1 of those meals I was finally able to closely replicate my mom's curried shrimp recipe (I botched the hell of it in 2016!). I used our newly fixed elliptical during nap time (pre being sick). And today when everyone was sick and I felt like a miserable crab, I actually found the reset button: I put Patrick in his crib, put the tv on for Hartley, and I took a quick, hot shower. That was me breathing and restarting with a better attitude, focusing on a lazy day with my babies, and it worked! I know my successes are little ones and I know somedays won't be reset button salvageable, but I'm happy about 2017 so far. I'm very excited to see what lies ahead for my little family!
Also, I was really missing my shows, and I'm really happy they're back. Let's get real, The Bachelor makes Mondays better. And I need This Is Us in my life.
But Happy start of 2017 to all! The best is yet to come!
