Category: Parenting

Van @ 18 Months

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting, Van
Growth & Appearance: You’re still a big kid. You look like a 2 year old but waddle like an 18 month old. Your hair is blond and thick. We shave it often. Currently you have a scab on your knee and a scratch of unknown origin the side of your right eye. We can no longer leave you in just a diaper because you take it off every time. Even with shorts on the other day, I saw you trying to pull the thing off. Not sure that it’s quite time to potty train; I think you just like to be naked. 
You have all your teeth, next ones should be the two year molars.
You wear a size 2T clothes / PJ’s, size 6 shoes, size 4 diapers. 
Eating: You’re a tank. You love to eat and waddle as fast as you can over to your high chair as soon as you see food being made. Sometimes you require a snack just to shut you up until the food is ready to be put in front of you. You prefer to have a fork in your hand and are okay at using a spoon, but more times than not you use your hands because you can shovel it in faster.
You’ve consumed entire meals before your brother takes his first bite.
You love blueberries, cereal, carrots, cheese, oatmeal, banana… who am I kidding… there’s really not anything that you don’t like. You love eating ice.Sleeping: You’re still taking two naps a day. You wake up around 8:30 and nap around 10:30 for two hours. You nap again in the afternoon around 4:30 for an hour and a half or so. You’re not the most fun to be around on the days where you miss your nap. 
We’re hoping to switch you over to the bottom bunk. We took you out of the crib and you are now sleeping in a big boy bed in your own room. Eventually we hope to put you and Hooper in the same room. You’ve transitioned out of the crib okay but nap time is more like whack-a-mole. We’ll keep at it, with fingers crossed. You love your blanket, as well as your stuffed animals. But your blanket is a must.
You still suck your thumb and put on your “hand hat” when you’re tired.
Talking: You say a ton of words and communicate well. The other day you handed me your empty sippy cup, asked for my “hand”, told me to “come”, and led me straight to the fridge where you pointed at your sippy cup and whined. You just started saying “thank you”, which is the first time you’ve put two words together. You also say “pee” for “please” and “side” when you want to go outside. Every time we go over a speed bump, you say “bump”.
You follow directions well.
Development: You started a little gym class and go with the nanny since I’m still unable to lift you. She says you’re the tallest in your class and you do well with everything. The balls, she says, are your favorite.
You join in on the bike rides by pushing your feed off the pavement as opposed to pedaling. Your shoes are all warn in from where you push off and one time, when you went out without shoes, you came in with wounds on your big toes from pushing. It won’t be long until you can reach the pedals.
Your laugh is as hearty as can be and seems to come from deep down in your belly. You love to be around laughter and occasionally snort when you laugh; it’s adorable.
You love being chased.
Perhaps it’s a second child thing, but you definitely have a sense of what is yours (of what you want to be yours) and refer to things as “mine”, accompanied with a whine and / or cry.
You’ve discovered that the computer is pretty cool and I can no longer sit at my desk without you climbing onto my lap. Sometimes you simply want to draw with a pen, other times you want to smack all the keys on the keyboard, and other times you request to watch a video on YouTube (you love the Fox Song and any nursery rhyme and all the truck / fire engine videos that your bro loves).
You love to steal my pen and get pissed anytime I’m writing with one and won’t hand it over.
Following in the footsteps of your brother, you love to do what we’ve coined as “the grandfather” (where you walk around hunched over and shuffle your feet like a little old man) and “fancy feet” (where you stomp your feet back and forth in quick succession).
You refuse to go down steps by yourself and ask for one of our hands to hold. You finally did it by yourself the other day, but it took a lot of coaxing.
Favorites: You love to have books read to you over and over and over again. Your favorites are “Goodnight Moon”, “I Know An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly”, and any beginner books that has cars or trucks. You ask me to sit and then plant your little bottom in my lap constantly. You’re fascinated anytime a police car or fire truck goes by with their sirens on and you could sit behind the wheel and pretend to drive the car all day long. You also love to put your hands under the facet in the bathroom. And, of course, you love cars.

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Hooper @ 3.2 years

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting
Growth & Appearance: You’ve grown taller and when you’re in shorts you can see just how long and skinny your little legs are. The weather has been windy and you’ve developed a horrible habit of licking around your mouth, resulting in redness and chapped skin. You look like you’ve just finished eating spaghetti with marinara sauce, always. You’re more inclined to wearing hats and you look adorable in the one hat we did buy you.
You’re wearing size 3T clothes and are in size 8 shoes.
 
Eating: You hate being messy and oftentimes prefer your Papa or I feeding you to avoid having to touch your food or potentially spill on yourself. Really though, I think you’re just not that interested in what you’re eating. You have no problem getting your hands dirty with french fry grease. You can still be a pain in the ass from time to time but the table is a far cry from the battlefield it used to be. We’ve all learned how to peacefully go on and we’ve let go of a lot of the distraction techniques we used to use (ie, TV during dinner).
You love bread, eggo waffles, yogurt covered raisins, bacon, pasta (you love carbs, in general), and lately, carrots. Despite these favorites, you do eat rather healthy. We rarely allow you to eat pure junk. Things like french fries are a rare treat.
The other day I caught you hiding behind the door in the office, eating banana bread with the sliest grin on your face. 
Sleeping: Naps are a rarity. Every now and then we can tell you need one and – sometimes – you’ll take one. You’ve been getting up earlier, around 7:30, which feels like a drastic difference to the days you’d sleep until 8:30. With that said, you sleep through the night with ease.
We bought you bunk beds with intentions of moving your brother in with you. You sleep on the top bunk and love it.

Talking: You say whatever you are thinking and ask about every noise or new thing you see.
Favorite sayings:
“Sorry ’bout dat Mama” (said after that time you hit me, while driving, in the back of the head with a stick)
“Waffo ready” (every time the toaster pops up, regardless of what’s in it)
“Waz dat?” (constant, these days)
“I want to hit Van” (gotta love honesty)
“Going?” (where are we going?)
“Baby fire truck” (aka ambulance)
Development: I took you to your first movie, “Walking with Dinosaurs”. It was about an hour and a half long and I came prepared with snacks to hold your attention. At one point, after getting up and down like a little whack-a-mole a thousand times, you said to me “go home, mama”. The movie sucked anyway, so I asked you to pick my purse up off the floor (I’m still on bending restrictions). You picked it up from the bottom, the contents spilling all over the place. We had to stick it out until the end when the lights came on. I retrieved my lip stick under the seats in the first aisle. It’ll be a while before I take you again.
You can ride your bike, with ease, with training wheels. We duct taped your feet to the wheels to get you started because you refused to use the pedals initially. Within seconds after removing the duct tape, you were off. You ask to go for bike rides numerous times throughout the day.
You still write with your left hand and ride your scooter with your left foot, but throw with your right hand.
You stopped sucking your two fingers a few months ago and it kinda breaks your Papa and I’s heart.
You love picking your nose and eating it.
You’re full blown potty trained and able to pull down your own pants. You lift up your ding-a-ling and threaten to pee on me often. When I tell you “no”, you proceed to point it toward the bathtub or sink or wall or trash and ask if you can pee on these things instead. The answer is the same. You prefer to crap at home.
You started preschool in the beginning of December and seem to enjoy it minus a few long faces when your Papa or I leave.
You like going on adventures, but often ask “going home?” at some point.
You love to play pretend. You’ve been a cat a lot lately and meow a lot. You ask to be pet and call your hands your paws. You also like to make pretend meals with your fake food. You also wear your cowboy boots and refer to them as your “firemen boots”.
You’re a bit bossy and seem to think you’re in charge at times. You tell us often to “stop it” and also feel as though it’s your own duty to scold Van. 
Favorites: You watched the Wizard of Oz and loved it. You love playing the “get me” game. You love cars and trucks and asked Santa for a “big truck” for Christmas. He delivered. You could watch videos of trackers on YouTube all day long. I’ve added things like excavator, impact hammer, and digger to my daily vocabulary. You also love playing “mailman”, where you go around the house delivering “packages”. You love cats and collecting coins and making piles of sticks.

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Preschool

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

We’ve known for a while that Hooper was ready for preschool. It happened about the time he stopped taking his marathon naps (seriously, sometimes they were up to 4 hours long) and insisted on watching back to back to back episodes of Curious George.
I hesitated, knowing I’d be having back surgery and therefore having to delegate yet another chore to another friend or family member.
Initially we were going to wait until I was fully recovered but we both decided he was more than ready and we figured we could swing it at this point in recovery. That, and we couldn’t handle him kicking, pinching, or biting Van one more time.
Willy looked at me from across the table on one of our lunch dates and said, “How do we sign him up?”. I always giggle to myself when he asks me questions as if I’ve been a mother longer than he’s been a father. I looked at him with equal cluelessness and said, “I dunno”.
And so, we made a few phone calls.
The first school we toured was a Montessori. Perhaps it was the fact that we saw the price prior to the tour, but neither of us got the warm fuzzies. We drove away wondering how the majority of people afford to put their kid through pre-school. No, really, how do you all put your kids through pre-school?
In the hopes of finding something more affordable, we stopped at a church and inquired about their program. Before price was even discussed, Willy and I gave one another the secret nod of approval. It all felt very organic.
And, just like that, Hooper started pre-school.
The first day Willy and I dropped him off together. He went straight for the toys without looking back and Willy and I walked to the car giggling over the thought of that day marking the first in what is bound-to-be years of schooling. I picked him up and was given a few handouts with classroom information, a playdough recipe, and a list of some things the teachers needed for the classroom and all the sudden I was the legit parent of a pre-schooler.
Despite a couple days of long faces at the time of drop off, he’s been doing great. I started him three days a week, half-days.
My favorite day yet was the day I dropped him off wearing a beanie with a large pom pom on top and came four hours later to pick him up to find he still had the cap on his, albeit a bit disheveled. The teacher told me he didn’t want anyone to take it off. I giggled to myself all the way to the car as I put my sweaty little ski-cap wearing toddler in the car. Man I love that kid.
When did you start your little one in pre-school? Is pre-school affordable in your area?

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Adjusting

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Life, Motherhood, Parenting
Life rarely goes according to plan. It’s funny because growing up you hear all kinds of advice about making goals and putting together visions of where you find yourself in five years. I’m not opposed, per say. It’s nice to try to keep the train on the tracks and envision what moving forward looks like.
But life doesn’t always move forward, nor is the shrubbery that is the path always beat down and wilted well enough for you to even see where you’re going.
And so, I’ve come to learn that those who are the strongest are those that learn to adapt the fastest.
We all reminisce of our childhood, where presumably we were all cared for and fed and given valued guidance and love along the way. And then, when you become an adult, you celebrate the fact you can care for yourself. I’ve always valued my independence and am in no way blind to the ways my parents raised me to appreciate such.
This road to recovery has a lot of the aforementioned shrubbery. It’s hard to know if you’re even on the path, and thus, I’ve had to learn to adapt. Everyday I dig deep to hold on to a perspective that I believe in; you know, the whole glass half full perspective? And, for me, it’s a challenge.
For my children, on the other hand, adapting seems to be their second nature. No matter who walks in the door to care for them, they welcome them with open arms. I know my children are too young to know my struggles, but I’ve thanked them a million times over for their ability to adapt and adjust and allow others to do for them what I felt only I knew how to.
It’s an eye opening experience to relinquish control and allow others to do your job in the absence of any training. What I’ve learned is that it all gets done and no one dies.
There were days I was stuck in bed overhearing others trying to find Hooper’s blanket when I knew where it was. Or days I heard others trying to figure out what Van was pulling at their leg for and, without even being in the room, I knew what it was he wanted. And, you know what? It didn’t matter. They figured it out. My children are not books written in a language only a mother can read. And that truth has been very humbling.
Rolling with the punches. Adjusting. Being humbled time and time again. Hashtag: things words cannot express my gratitude for.

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A Guest Post: To be (a mom) or not to be (a mom)

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood, Parenting
This is the first in what will be a few guest posts written by my lovely sister. Hey look, there we are… (I’m on the left)
A while back, I did a guest post, anonymously, for my sister’s blog. You can read it here if you so desire.
The gist was this: I’m afraid to have kids. My fears include:
·         What if something is wrong with the kid, physically or mentally?
·         What if the world we live in isn’t kid-friendly (think pollution, global warming, wars, financial collapse)?
·         What if I’m too selfish and impatient to be a good mother?
·         What if my kid is an asshole?
·         What if having a child makes my soon-to-be-husband and I forget about each other?
·         What if pets are enough?
·         What if the thought of helping a kid with homework gives me chills?
·         What if I don’t have time to write or read or hike or cook or do all the other things I love?
·         What if we struggle financially with a kid?
·         What if I go crazy due to sleep deprivation?
·         What if there are adventures and travels I still want to have?
All those fears aside, I know there are pros to having kids. Duh. I’ve met my nephews. They’re pretty awesome. I can imagine how amazing it is to create a life with someone I love. I can imagine the fulfillment of that, the love, the lessons. I just don’t think it’s for me.
Before you encourage me to change my mind, rest assured I have thought about this long and hard. I have played Devil’s Advocate with myself. My fiancé and I have discussed this at length. We even went to a preconception counseling appointment (who knew they had such a thing?), just to get some information. The doctor said that I would be considered “high risk” (according to the insurance companies) when I’m 35 (which is now less than a year away). I know that’s just a silly policy, but the words still threaten me—high risk. I am a person who prefers very little risk. As in, no risk.
But even if I was 25, I don’t think I’d want a child. I’ve never wanted to be a mom. I’m an introvert who needs A LOT of alone time. I worry that being a mom wouldn’t allow me that. I’ve struggled with depression in my life. I worry that I’d pass that on to my child, or that my depression would flare up as a parent. I’m a chronic worrier. I worry about that.
The reason my first post was anonymous was because I’m a little embarrassed that I don’t want a kid. Most women want children. Most describe an ache, a craving, for a child. I’ve never had this. Most women either ignore any possible risks, or embrace them because their desire for a child far outweighs any fear. I’ve never had anything close to such a desire. My sister, for one, always wanted kids. When we were little, she toted around baby dolls, “feeding” them from toy plastic bottles. I played with my Barbies. These days, my sister says she feels a little sad for me and all that I’ll miss by being childless. The thing is, though, I’ll never experience having a child myself so I won’t know what I’m missing. I’m happy as I am, and I’ll just go on as that person.
I used to think there was something wrong with me. I’m in a minority, after all. Now, though, I’m proud of myself for realizing my limitations and making a decision for the life I want for myself (and my partner). Plus, like I said, my nephews are awesome. I  plan to love them with all my might.
Did any of you share my fears? Did you always know you wanted to be a mom?
Kim Hooper / Copywriter & Novelist / Also, my sister

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Life

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

I happened to have my camera in the undercarriage (ha, undercarriage… am I the only one that thinks that’s a funny word? It might be up there with “moist” on my list of would-rather-not-use-words) of the stroller back in September when we were out shopping. As a side note, don’t let the easy flow of that sentence fool you; I go shopping as often as Ray Charles sees the sun. In any event, I snapped these two pictures of Hoop. Maybe I should mention also that I shot these before my surgery because these days I only dream about getting down on the floor like that. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to bend and twist and lift. I wish I wouldn’t have cut of his feet in the first photo, but you can still barely see his toes on his right foot. No shoes, no big deal. He spit all over that mirror. He’s real into spitting lately. Then he insisted on going in the fitting room with Willy, when I snapped the second photo. Oh ya, and he refers to all mannequins as “monsters”.
What does shopping with your kid look like?

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Life

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

When I’m in the moment, sometimes I want nothing more than to be out of the moment. I hate saying that because I know how important it is to be present. But sometimes the kids are just all sorts of crazy and I can’t think about anything other than the mess I’m surrounded in, the dishes, the laundry, the shower I want to take, etc… and the moment slips away.
I photograph my children a lot because it’s something I enjoy doing. I love documenting all the mundane moments… even when my mind is elsewhere. And it’s a funny thing because I’ll upload the pictures after I put them to bed and all I can think of is how precious they are and how lovely that moment really was even though, at the time, it felt so chaotic and relatively unfulfilling.
Motherhood is such an oxymoron like that, isn’t it? What’s a snapshot of your life look like today?

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We got this

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

The kids and I tagged along on another one of Willy’s business trips out in Palm Springs a few weeks ago. Being a mother to two young children is not easy even on seemingly quiet and easy days at home. So anytime we travel, we know, shit can hit the fan.
Lately, however, life with the boys has been a breeze. And for the first time, on our drive out to the desert, I looked over at Willy and said, “We got this”.
Van is at that age where he is no longer a baby and not yet a tyrant toddler. He’s so enjoyable and easy. I’m done breastfeeding and now that I’ve gotten past all that hormonal bullshit, I’m throwing myself high fives left and right. Breastfeeding is great, I’ll be the first and last one to defend it, but being done is so freeing. It’s easier to look at my family as one unit as opposed to Van and I off in the corner keeping to our own private schedule of neurotic feedings.
Life is running at a less chaotic pace and we’re all enjoying the tranquility. Perhaps it was the calm before what is soon-to-be the storm. Be it what it may, we had a fabulous time and life has been treating us good. Today, I’m counting my blessings and feeling grateful.
More photos from our time in Palm Springs and our return to the Salton Sea to follow.

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First Haircut

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Parenting, Van
I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better. -Maya Angelou
We can’t bring ourselves to cut Hooper’s hair despite the fact the poor kid can hardly see with all those blond locks constantly hanging in his face. We like his hair and, truth be told, we’re attached to it. We’re waiting for the day we can finally stick it behind his ears. Nevermind those baby hairs underneath it all that have yet to grow.
Van lost hair as a newborn and, as a result, his hair was longer in some areas and shorter in others. I won’t even mention the weird kinky texture of his hair or else you may start asking me questions about who his daddy is.
So we decided to shave his head in hopes it would all grow in evenly. Because next thing you know, he’ll be two with long blond locks and we’ll we be fighting back emotional ties anytime the thought of cutting it gets thrown out on the table.
And just like that, there’s a little ziplock baggy of dirty blond hair tucked away in his baby book with “first haircut” scribbled on a post-it.
Side note: Much love for everyones well-wishes regarding yesterday’s post. I want to clairfy, because I know the x-ray is gnarly, that I actually don’t have any pain. As in, like none. I have to have the surgery because my curve has not stopped progressing. It’s a structural

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issue, not a pain issue. I feel for y’all that do have back pain… I’ve definitely had my episodes. Wishing everyone good health. And, truly, thank again. All your comments made me emotional…

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The Perfect Ending

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Breastfeeding, Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting, Van
You can’t always get what you want, but in the end you get what you need.
I spent the first days after stopping breastfeeding mopping around, declaring myself to be in “a funk”; Unable to enjoy things that normally excited me, unable to be truly present to my children. I’m writing this in past tense because I didn’t feel like writing anything but dark, sad, moppy posts like this just a few weeks ago when all the tears were streaming down my I’m-so-sad-I’m-done-breastfeeding face.
Willy and I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had tickets to see Willie Nelson at the Hollywood Bowl and plans to leave the kids at my parents for the entire night. But I just couldn’t seem to shake the post-breastfeeding-blues.
I can’t tell you when the change occurred but what I can tell you is that Willie Nelson played his Stardust album from front to back and it was beautiful. There really is nothing better for the soul than music, in my opinion. We woke up the next morning and went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market by ourselves and in the absence of the munchkins, we got to dig through buried treasures and stroll leisurely through the aisles. We picked up the kids in the afternoon and went to the Ventura County Fair. We rode rides, pet goats, ate chocolate covered Twinkies. And when we got home and put the kids to bed, Willy and I climbed up on the roof and laid there under the stars to watch the meteor shower.
And, just like that, my funk disappeared. It only took a country phenom, some time with my main squeeze, a ferris wheel, and a sea full of falling stars to shake it. But alas, I shook it.
Then again, it was probably that chocolate covered twinkie because, um, hello they don’t even make Twinkies even more. Hash tag: deadstock. Oh ya, and I didn’t have to worry about breastfeeding. That was nice.
Oh ya, and you see that little San Francisco shirt Hooper has on? It’s something I bought when I lived in SF years ago, before I knew my husband as my husband… when I had only dreams of motherhood. And seeing my first born in it now not only makes me one happy Mama, but also puts things in perspective. Life is good.

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Breastfeeding

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Motherhood, Parenting
It’s so hard to say goodbye.
This is the last post in my breastfeeding series and I’m writing it in tears, which is a far cry from the jumping up and down excitement I envisioned. Maybe the tears are from the thought of this being the last time I ever breastfeed, maybe they’re from the hormones associated with the transition, or maybe they’re from the unnatural ending.
It’s because of the latter that I feel this impending feeling of guilt. As much as I’d love to lie and tell y’all that both Van and I were ready, this is not the truth. In fact, I’ve been dealing with an incredibly clingy and cranky baby for the last few weeks of what has been a weaning process and as I admit that, another tear streams down my face. I was ready, he was not.
I had no experience with weaning. Hooper naturally weaned himself and our breastfeeding relationship ended very naturally. With Van, I cut our 8 feedings in half for a week, then in half again the following week. I fed him first thing in the morning and last thing at night for the past few weeks and when my supply diminished and my nighttime feed no longer put him to sleep, I stopped that one too. And just like that, Aunt Flo came back into my life despite me having referred to her as the weird, smelly Aunt; she never seems to hold grudges even though I wish she would.
And so we stuck to one feed a day, first thing in the morning. And each morning, I’d look down at that little sweet face and reassure myself that indeed today would not be the last day, but instead tomorrow. And the truth is, I couldn’t handle feeding him knowing it would be my last time.
It’s like knowing your best friend is going to die tomorrow. How do you say goodbye? And I realized, I couldn’t… I couldn’t feed him knowing that I wouldn’t feed him ever again.
So, I fed him on a Wednesday. Then I went to work on Thursday and pumped one single ounce. Combined. One ounce, people. On Friday I had a meeting and I decided not to pump at all. And just like that, our breastfeeding journey has come to an end. I didn’t have it in me to say a formal goodbye.
And now, I’m in tears.
How was the weaning process for you? Did you experience depression after weaning? If so, you may want to read this post (I found it comforting).

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Life

by Ashley filed under Family, Motherhood, Parenting
This photo is not my favorite, but it’s so reminiscent of life right now: Hooper standing, with his blanket, in his pull ups, surveying his brother’s every move… making sure he’s okay with whatever toy he’s playing with. Toys strewn about. A container of sunscreen on the floor, serving as evidence of the triple digit heat. A sofa cushion leaning up against the window, air drying after Hooper pissed on it (luckily we had an extra one in the garage). Van always on his 4-wheeler. And a lonely shoe, halfway down the hallway, endlessly searching for it’s partner.
What does a snapshot of your life look like today?
Side note: Many congrats to Ash for winning the Little Flourishes giveaway and to Noelle C. for winning the LookNook giveaway!

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They come in all shapes and sizes.

by Ashley filed under Hooper Eats, Motherhood, Parenting, Then & Now

Hooper’s first birthday

Van’s first birthday
We took Van to the pediatrician the other week for his one year check-up and the fact that kids come in all shapes and sizes rung true all over again. Van is the same size Hooper was when Hooper was 18 months old and it blows my mind.
I don’t give advice because I know no two situations are the same but if I could go back in time and give advice to the neurotic lets-take-inventory-of-every-bite-eaten-and-every-ounce-drunk self, I’d tell her not to worry and not to obsess.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have a toddler who pockets watermelon and a baby who – through baby led weaning – is more independent at the table than his older brother.
In other news, apparently my sister is in charge of getting the cupcake

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into my kids’ faces and Sarah, well, she’s my sister’s “assistant”.

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Conquering the day

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

I know I’ve said it before, but some days are so hard to get out of the house. So hard to break routine. Hard to interrupt or bypass naps. Hard to pack up everything I’ll need for the kids. Hard to get myself ready. Hard to get the kiddos ready. Hard to get everyone fed. By the time we get out of the house and close the door, sometimes I feel like turning right around and walking back through the front door; Sometimes merely crossing that threshold feels like a feat all on its own.
I wonder if other moms feel this way too. Part of me thinks that’s a dumb question because I know, logically, that I cannot be alone in feeling this way. And yet, I peek in on other’s lives, cyber-stalking through the blogsphere or instagram or what-have-you and see normal people, just like me, with small children doing things e v e r y d a y.
I know it’s dangerous to compare. And being a “blogger” myself, I know that one beautiful picture does not share the whole story. Sometimes pictures are a down-right lie.
I had a slew of days off in a row from work. Working as an RN part-time has some nice perks like that. I’ve had nice chunks off like this in the past and sometimes I walk out of work thinking, “holy shit, I have ten days off” only to walk back in those doors ten days later saying to myself, “My ten days are up already?”. And I replay the last ten days in my head over and over and my conclusion is always the same: I wish we would have done more.
Ten days off makes the possibilities seem so endless; I daydream of all the places we can go, all the things we can do. And then life gets in the way. Clothes pile up. Dishes pile up. The food in the fridge disappears. And I find that entire days are spent getting the house back in order, getting things restocked.
Trying to feel accomplished after finishing only a few things on a long ever-growing to-do list has been one of the biggest adjustments, for me, in becoming a mom.
What I have found is this: It’s always better to get out… to let the mess pile up and worry about it later.
I took the kids to the zoo the other day. The zoo is usually off-limits over summer because the heat will make you want to peel off your own skin and sit under a shaded tree a pile of bones. Really, it’s debilitating. But it was oddly overcast and even rained the night before so I woke up determined to make it to the zoo.
I put both boys’ down for their morning naps. I played whack-a-mole with Hooper who lately has decided that he doesn’t want to nap at all or goes down for a nap but wakes up thirty minutes later with poop in his pull-up or goes down and wakes up three and a half hours later. It’s so random and so hit or miss. This day was a miss.
One hurdle after another; Some days it feels like I’m playing hop-scotch blind-folded through fire, wind, and rain.
It seemed fitting that in my rush to get everyone out of the door, my phone rang. It was my doctor’s office who called to see if I had any questions following my appointment (Oh ya, I have to have back surgery in the Fall). The woman on the other end proceeded to tell me that for the first few weeks I should expect to feel like I have been run over by a truck. And if that wasn’t enough, she went on to say that the same truck reverses and runs over me again. She was telling me all this while my phone sat precariously cushioned between my shoulder and ear, Van sat on his four wheeler at my feet honking his little pretend horn, Hooper was running around in circles, and I was trying to put their lunch in a tupperware container so we could actually cross that aforementioned threshold.
We got out the door, I strapped the kids in their seats, and as I pulled out the driveway all I could think about was being run over by a truck… twice.
We got to the zoo two hours before they closed and despite the cloudy skies, I was sweating. I immediately regretted the decision to wear pants and felt a bit guilty as I pulled Hoop out of his car seat in his long pants and sweaty hair. It was humid and sticky, by California standards anyway. And in the back of my mind, I kept thinking of that truck reversing over me.
And you know what turned it all around for me? Watching my boys enjoy themselves; watching their excitement and genuine awe, their enthusiasm, the sense of wonder that spread across their little faces. And the kettle corn. If freshly popped kettle corn can’t take your mind off a dirty house and the impact of being run over by a truck, then I don’t know what can. And even with the hassle of getting out the door, I drove into the driveway thinking that was well worth it. All for their enjoyment.
And that’s the beauty of being a mom… Seeing the world how you once saw it, long ago, through the eyes of your child. It’s a beautiful thing and it takes all the hassle and all the pain away.
More to come on my surgery at a later time.
And check back tomorrow for a giveaway from Little Flourishes.

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Eating Out With Kids

by Ashley filed under Parenting

Tricks of the trade:
-Go to kid friendly restaurants. Allow me to define “kid friendly” in these simple terms: An establishment loud enough to drown out the sound of your babbling and/or whining child, but not loud enough that you have to be 21 and over.
-Sit outside. Sure, this probably depends on where you live. With the California weather, we try to reap the benefits of fabulous weather. It’s nice to sit outside and it allows more freedom for the munchkins to roam and play while we enjoy.
-Order early. We have our favorite restaurants that we return to, and hence, we know what we want. It speeds the process along and allows us to enjoy our time after the meal so long as the kids are both still happy as opposed to playing the role of a circus clown before the meal even comes.
-Bring a toy or small non-filling snacks. We almost always bring a car for Hooper and some Gerber puffs for Van. And we don’t take the car or puffs out until we’ve hit our first wall; Always save your tricks until you need them.
-Ask for them to bring your kids food out first. Hooper eats much slower than us and it’s nice to give him a head start. It’s also nice because then he’s preoccupied and we can wait in peace for our food. Though, as you all know, many times he wants nothing to do with his food anyway. More times than not, eating out means he’ll be eating mac n’ cheese, pizza, or chicken nuggets and he’s on board with all those.
-Only eat out when you have the energy to juggle the little ones. Willy has annoyingly asked, “Why don’t our kids just sit there?!”. I get defensive every time and remind him that our children are very young and the problem is not that they won’t just “sit there” but that he has unrealistic expectations. We’ve argued over this more than once and each time I’m reminded that parenting is all about perspective. So when you go out to eat, bring a realistic perspective with you.
-Chose weekdays. We decided last minute to go out to eat on a Saturday evening and were pretty surprised when we got to one of our favorite restaurants and found an hour long wait. Waiting an hour with kids just to sit down to eat is like running a 5K before you race in a 10K: pointless. It’s nice going out mid-week as well; it breaks up the week, gives you something to look forward to after a long day at work, and because there are less people out and about your child is more likely annoy less people.
-Keep calm. I don’t know about you, but I’m bothered more by an out-of-control parent than by an out-of-control child. As parents, we all know you can’t win them all. I don’t feel the need to apologize for my child’s bad behavior and if I do apologize, I don’t really mean it. What I expect is sympathy, people! If my kid is being an asshole, don’t judge me, pat me on the back and buy me a drink. Which brings me to my last suggestion…
-Order a drink. Or have a glass of wine before you leave the house. Because, well, you know. It helps that perspective thing I alluded to.
Am I missing anything? Please share what works for you! 

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Then & Now

by Ashley filed under Home Birth, Motherhood, Parenting, Then & Now, Van
I’d say it’s amazing how fast a year goes, but that’s so cliche. Instead, I will say that with my first-born, every day felt like a marathon. I felt like that newborn phase was going to last for the rest of my life. When I had my second,  my perspective was much better. I knew it’d be a hard year and then it’d get easier.
Before I had kids, I couldn’t think more than a week ahead. I lived life day by day and rarely planned for anything and had a hard time committing to something unless it was going to happen the next day.
The days are long but the years are short, or so they say.
One year ago today I was sitting in the very same room as I type right now, in a birthing tub. This picture is obviously poor quality but it tells a story. The beginning of the story, anyway. A paper bag with a plastic bag in case I got nauseous (I didn’t), the sliver of the elbow of my midwife watching over me just barely making it in the right part of the frame, the birthing supplies in a trash bag on top of the pin ball machine that sat there un-used and taunting me for weeks (I was two weeks late), and Willy looking halfway helpful and halfway helpless.
I say it only tells the beginning of the story because we don’t have photos of the EMT’s who eventually came and had to transfer me butt-booty-naked in an ambulance to the hospital. We had our birthing plan all mapped out and, ultimately, we had to go with plan B.
Life doesn’t always go the way you plan it, does it?
And within ten minutes of being at the hospital, with one nurse pumping up and down on my stomach as if my heart were in my abdomen and I was in full cardiac arrest (clarification: I was not in cardiac arrest) and with some doc I had never met pulling and twisting, Van was born. All nine and half pounds of him.
On the days I work, I pump in a lactation room on the postpartum unit. I watched the other day as a newborn was wheeled past me and as I sat down to pump milk for Van, I thought how crazy it is that that little glow worm will be crawling and communicating and socializing in, what feels like, a blink of an eye.
Right now, Van is napping. I breastfed him while he held on to his blanket, his latest obsession, and laid him down in his crib. He quickly rolled over, hugging his blanket to his chest and sticking his little bum high up into the air.
One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. Fifty two weeks.
The days are long but the years are short; It’s true.
You can read Van’s entire birth story here. 

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Brothers

by Ashley filed under Brothers, Motherhood, Parenting
Dear Hooper & Van,
And just like that, you like each other. Well, some of the time at least. Van, whenever you’re napping, Hooper wants to see you. Like really wants to see you; as in he pulls at my leg and tugs at my arm until I get up off my butt and walk toward your door. Hooper, you’re always disheartened when I tell you Van is sleeping.
That little tidbit is first and foremost.
Hooper, you’re learning to share you toys and your space. Not that you have much of a choice, as Van is constantly in your space and constantly wanting to do whatever you’re doing. Your answer to this is to move him out of the way. I’ve caught you trying to drag him from underneath his armpits until he’s out of your path. You need to eat some more protein, however, because more times than not you are not able to move him and you’re left having to ask for help cuz’ he’s “heav-vee” (heavy).
Loving how you love each other… at the moment, anyway.
Mama

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Hooper Eats.

by Ashley filed under Hooper Eats, Parenting
This is a continuation post. You can read the first two posts in the series by clicking here.
A glimmer of hope.
Our Occupational Therapist, Kary came over and joined us for dinner. Willy cooked a mild fish with rice and peas. We followed Kary’s instructions and ignored Hooper while we ate. One by one, he ate his peas (not shocking, as it’s one of his favorites). We had a record playing and were enjoying adult conversation, sharing stories of parenthood intermixed with advice on how to improve our current situation. And for the first time, in a long time, the table was a fun place to be.
Apparently Hooper noticed it too because he stuck around. Sure, he got up a few times to go do this and that but each time he came back around to see what we were all up to. And to our surprise, as conversation and laughter weaved it’s way over the table like the aroma of the food itself, he ate his fish. On his own. Every bite. Willy and I took turns exchanging oh my gosh glances like a freaking comet was passing right by our window. Kary kinda chuckled and exclaimed that it doesn’t usually go that well so fast.
And as we walked her to the door and thanked her a thousand times over, I thought we may just have a child prodigy on our hands. Problem fixed.
Oh the ignorance.
I’ve always believed that life gives you only what it knows you can handle. Van is a good eater because I’d probably rip off my toenails one by one if I had to deal with another poor eater. And that glimmer of hope was just that: a glimmer. Exactly what I needed for what has turned out to be an otherwise uphill battle. But oh that glimmer sparkles bright as a reminder of what could be and what will be so long as Willy and I are able to keep to our roles.
The following rules were given to us by Kary.
The Rules
-No more than 20-30 minutes for a meal. When 20-30 minutes are up, take the plate away. If he protests, tell him mealtime is over. If he’s still hungry, remind him he can have a snack in an hour.
-Offer a new food at most meals with one or two preferred foods.
-Be consistent. Consistency will teach Hooper what you expect of him. Try using a mealtime routine.
-No getting up from the table more than three times. When he gets up from the table, ask him if he’s done. If he says “yes”, take his plate away and excuse him from the table. If he says “no”, have him sit back down. Do not keep asking him if he wants to come back- only if he’s showing you he does by hanging around the table and trying to get attention.
If he is done and barely ate anything (or chose to not eat at all) don’t make him something else until snack time (one hour later). Then you can make him a preferred food so he gets something in his belly but keep it “snack” sized.
If he wants to eat his dinner after you’ve excused him (more than 3 times) tell him the meal is over but he can eat again in one hour (you can bring the food back in 15 minutes since at this age he can’t tell time). Have him sit back at the table with the same meal. If he doesn’t want the same meal and is asking for something different, tell him he needs to wait until snack time (truly one hour later).
-Stick with statements, not questions. Examples: “It looks like you’re done” versus “are you done?” and “Mama would like to share this with you” versus “Do you want to try some?”.
-Create an environment you would want to be a part of. The more relaxed, fun, and enjoyable the table is the more likely he will be to join in.
-You are in charge of the what, when, and where of a meal. Hooper is in charge of whether or not to eat anything and how much he wants to eat. Trust Hooper to know what his body needs as long as you are giving several opportunities to eat healthy foods.
-Give small amounts (2 tablespoons) of each food you are eating with the meal and let Hooper ask for more. If he is filling up on just one thing, tell him that’s all gone but if he’s still hungry you can have (______) instead.
-Try to give small rewards for trying new foods (not food rewards and not big rewards). But don’t make a big deal; the less attention, the better. Wait until the end of the meal to give the reward and/or praise.
-NO putting food in Hooper’s mouth for him. If he decides not to eat, that’s okay. (Ignore our rule breaking photo evidence above).
-No encouraging him to eat a particular food on his plate. If you really want to encourage him to eat chicken he has left on his plate, for example, don’t mention the chicken at all but if he asks for more of anything (like pasta that was also part of the meal) tell him it’s gone but if he’s still hungry he has chicken left on his plate. This is the closest you should get to “encouraging” him to eat. You can also model good behavior by eating the chicken off his plate after he tells you he’s “done”.
Your thoughts? What has worked with your toddler?

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