Brave Birthday Boy

My older son, Peanut, turned 4 on Sunday. Saturday we had his birthday party at a local park that has cabins you can rent and actually camp in. Originally we were just looking for a cheap, outdoor birthday party option with some shelter if it rained. It was a wonderful party (and it did rain).

My husband decided that for Peanut's birthday the two of them would sleep overnight in the cabin after the birthday party. I do not camp and Sprout had a cold. So after the party we cleaned up, Hubby brought Sprout and I home and then Hubby and Peanut left for their birthday camping trip. I was so proud of my little dude for being willing to brave the "wild" in the middle of October...and proud of my husband for subjecting himself to camping with a very picky preschooler. I was convinced that by 11pm Peanut would be missing his own bed and they would throw in the towel and come home. I stayed up waiting...and waiting...and waiting.

At 12:41 AM I realized they were probably not coming home. Then I realized everyone in my family was asleep but me and that I should probably go to bed.

It also occurred to me that it was officially Peanut's 4th birthday. He was getting to be such a big boy that he was out camping with his Daddy. For the first time since he was born I would not be the first person to wish him Happy Birthday. I reflected on the very moment he was born and I clearly remember, in my epidural haze, saying to him, "Hello. Happy Birthday." I actually started to wonder if he would seem different to me when he got home in the morning...older, more mature. It's insane how quickly they get from Day 1 to Year 4. It's fun to see him grow up, but it's sad to see him need me less and less as the years go by.

The Countdown to Four

My oldest, Peanut, turns four in October. I am literally counting the days. Not because I'm excited to celebrate the anniversary of his birth or to shower him with gifts. But I'm hoping his fourth birthday will be the day he suddenly decides to chill out! Three-and-a-half has been hard on all of us, Peanut included. Tantrums, attitude, yelling, hitting his brother, talking back, no naps, noise noise noise! I dread meal time. I dread time in the car. I dread any time I have to leave a park, friend's house or school. It seems every attempt to get him to do something we want is met head-on with resistance.

The "terrible twos" were nothing. Two was like a spa day compared to three-and-a-half. I keep hearing from other moms that four is better. "Four gets so much easier." "Four is much more fun." "All of that will get better once he's four."

Please, please, please be true. I need it to be true. Come on, four! Deliver!

How to Avoid Eating an Entire Batch of Cookies

I love love love chocolate chip cookies. I live for warm, homemade Ghirardelli chocolate chip cookies. I swear it's the best chocolate chip cookie recipe ever. I love love love these cookies so much, that I'll eat the entire batch myself. My husband might get two, my kids a couple. But then I eat my unfair share, plus the raw dough.

A wise woman in my family (Aunt Colleen? Mom? Cousin Kim? Other Cousin Kim?) taught me that if you freeze your dough in little balls A) You can make fresh baked cookies whenever you want them, and B) You will be less likely to eat them all at once.


Here's what you do:

1. Make your favorite cookie dough recipe as you normally would.
2. Bake up a small batch, if you'd like.
   
3. Put the rest of the dough in the refrigerator to chill for a couple of hours. I just through my KitchenAid bowl right in the frig!
4. After the dough is firm, use a small ice cream scoop to make portion-sized balls.
   
5. Place balls in a freezer bag, making one flat layer.
6. Store in freezer.*
7. When you are ready to bake some cookies, just pull out a couple of dough balls and bake them according to the recipe. You may need to add a little more time since the dough is frozen, but follow your recipe first to be safe...then add time as needed.

*I have no idea how long the dough will keep in the freezer...we usually eat ours up in a week or two.

Potty Training...What's My Problem?

Apparently we are potty training right now. I say apparently, because it is sort of news to me. At 20 months, Sprout started asking to use the potty...and actually used it.

I couldn't wait for Peanut to be potty trained. We bought him his first potty when he was 18 months old, complete with a potty book. We didn't really start to encourage potty training until he was 2.5 years old. We started putting him in pull-ups for daycare, because he would use the potty there. But when I lost my job and became a full-time stay at home mom, he completely regressed. I threw in the towel completely and just put him back in diapers. We had a stack of full sticker charts by then, but it was clear he just wasn't ready. I waited until I knew he was really ready and then just moved him to underwear during the day and pull-ups at night. He was finally ready at 39 months old. One day he was in diapers and the next he was wearing underwear. By day 4 he was leaving the house in underwear. After two weeks he was fully potty trained with the occasional accident at night.

With Peanut being such a "late" potty trainer, imagine my surprise when Sprout wanted to use the potty at 20 months. He asks to use it constantly. He only wants to use the seat ring on the big toilet, not the little potty on the floor (Peanut was the opposite). This morning he woke up, asked me to read him a book & then went straight for the bathroom. Now, most parents would probably be jumping up and down with joy. But I think I'm in denial. I give him a high five, cheer him on...and then put him in a diaper and go on with our day. Am I just trying to keep my toddler a baby? Am I just too lazy to deal with potty training again so soon? Or is it just because it took Peanut so long that I'm hesitant to dive right in?

It's funny to me that I feel as if I've never done this before...even though I just did it 8 months ago.

When Nana Comes To Visit

My mom is visiting this week, thus the short blog post. There is just something so wonderful and special when she comes to visit. She lives in California, so only comes up to Seattle two to three times a year. But when she's here, it's like the entire house smiles. The kids get excited, I get excited...honestly, Hubby even gets excited!

She's an excellent cook. She likes folding laundry. She is pretty good at playing trains and she will read endless amounts of books...even if she isn't sure how to pronounce apatosaurus. Some times we have a lot of activities planned. Some times we plan nothing and just do whatever we feel like doing.

This time we probably have way too much planned. Trips to Ikea, Goodwill, consignment shops, our favorite ice cream parlor and the wading pool. We also have dinners planned with various family members that live in town. When we aren't out and about, we are going to paint the kitchen, fold more laundry, sort through the kids' old toys and try some new recipes.

But really, it doesn't matter what we do. Everyone is happier when Nana comes to visit.

You Know You're A Mom of a Terrible Sleeper When...

You know you're a mom of a terrible sleeper when:

• If you are lucky enough to get any "extra" sleep, you can barely function. You might even get a headache.
• When your husband wants to watch a movie with you at night, you start calculating in your head when you'll get to bed...based on the length of the movie and how many times your child might wake up.
• You laugh to your self when parents of newborns complain that their baby isn't sleeping through the night yet. If they only knew.
• You tell yourself, "This won't last forever. Some day I'll complain that he's sleeping too long or sleeping in too late."
  

How Breastfeeding Changed My Opinions About Breastfeeding

This week is World Breastfeeding Week. It seems that most people, parents or not, have opinions about breastfeeding. Some mothers choose to breastfeed their babies and some choose to give their babies formula. Some choose to do a combination. Some are unable to breastfeed even though they want to. Some mothers who breastfeed do so only for the first few months of their baby’s life, while other mothers choose to breastfeed well into toddlerhood.

I have found that my own opinions about breastfeeding have changed significantly since I became a mother. Before my oldest son was born I remember thinking, “I’ll breastfeed if it works out. If not, no big deal.” I think I read a little bit about the benefits of breastfeeding, but didn’t want to put too much pressure on myself. It was stressful enough having to worry about delivering a baby, let alone how I was going to feed it! At first, I really struggled (engorgement, bad latch, positioning, a gassy baby, etc.), but after the first 6 weeks it seemed easier than having to make bottles of formula. Before I knew it, we passed the 6 month mark and I had no desire to stop. I was thrilled when we got to the one year mark. It seemed like a second celebration on his birthday. From that point on it was just icing on the cake! I will never forget the day my son weaned. He was 15 months. I sat down in the rocking chair to nurse him like I had every morning for over a year. He cuddled me, patted me on the chest as if to say, “No thanks,” and got down to play. That was it. We were done. I was a little sad. But honestly, I was a lot less emotional than I thought I’d be. In fact, I think I planned a girls’ weekend away with my best friend that week! How I had longed for time to myself, some cocktails with my best girlfriend and a chance to feel completely me again! It was wonderful!

When I was pregnant with my second son, I assumed (wrongly) that breastfeeding would pretty much be the same the second time around. This time I had set a goal of 1 year. I was already planning that next girls’ weekend in my head. But #2 was a little different. Our first night home he would wake up constantly to nurse, only to fall asleep as soon as he latched on. Once we got past that hurdle I developed mastitis. When it was time for me to return to work, he refused a bottle. Then, at 6 months we discovered I had a lipase issue, which made my breast milk taste like soap if it was exposed to air. Around 7 months I was laid off from my job, became a full-time stay at home mom and put the bottles in storage. It really wasn’t until then that our nursing relationship started feeling smooth and easy. What a relief!

My second son is now 20 months old and still nursing several times a day (and at night). I have surpassed my one year goal and I am uncertain of when I’ll stop breastfeeding. I’m not even sure who is going to make that call…me or him. But I do know that I am fortunate to be able to provide him with something that is so good for him for so long. I feel lucky to have that special bond with him. And even though I am longing for that overdue girls’ weekend of appletinis and late night chats, I know it will all be worth it in the long run.

Well My Mama Told Me, "There'll Be Days Like This"

This was one of those days when I should have checked my horoscope upon rising. I believe today's number would have been a 2 and advice would have been to stay in bed (as if that were possible).

The boys both had dentist appointments today, which I was dreading. I knew Sprout had cavities, so I figured Peanut would too. Plus, it was Sprout's first time at the dentist and a new dentist for Peanut. But we found a pediatric dentist with a dinosaur themed office and great recommendations. I woke up tired, but hopeful and positive about our day. We left the house on time. The boys were happy. I had my coffee. Everything was looking good.

About 5 minutes into our drive I see a couple of crows in the middle of the road, enjoying a nice snack. I start to say out loud, "Move crow. Move crow. MOVE CROW!" But taking my own advice (which I often give Hubby), I decided not to swerve, risking the crow's life rather than our three. Well, the crow didn't move. Apparently that snack was just too good...or he couldn't hear me yelling at him. So I passed over him, heard a "thud-thunk," and sat in bug-eyed silence as I continued down the road. I immediately assumed that Peanut, Mr. Sensitive, would be horrified. Instead, after a few thoughtful minutes, he said, "Mommy, that crow shouldn't eat his food in the street. He should eat it on the grass where it's safe." So true.

The dentist appointment went well. Peanut was a star patient and made me very proud. Sprout was pretty nervous, but did well for his first dentist visit. Then we got the bad news:

Sprout: 4 cavities, $1784.00, general anesthesia
Peanut: 3 cavities, $858, light sedation w/ the posibility of general anesthesia.

I don't know if you know this...but our kids are only 1 and 3. How on earth do they have cavities?!

We came home, ate lunch, got ready for nap...the usual. I was feeling more tired than usual, but assumed it was due to lack of sleep and the stress of the day. A little coffee would help, right? Nope. Apparently I am fighting my (as Peanut would say) forty-twenty-ten-five-fifth case of mastitis. My friends, if you know what mastitis is and/or have experienced it...I will say nothing more. I will just take my Tylenol, drink my liquids and hopefully feel better tomorrow.

"What is the good news?", you say?

I honestly don't think tomorrow could be as crazy, stressful or tiring. But then, I haven't checked my calendar yet.

Baby Book Rivalry

I am an only child. I clearly remember, at a very young age, my cousin complaining that her older brother had a big baby book that their mom had filled with photos and milestones. As the second born, her baby book was much smaller, had very few photos and many empty spaces where milestone markers should be. At that time I made a mental note that I would never do that to my children. My children would have equally wonderful and detailed baby books.

Peanut's baby book was carefully tended to for his first two years of life. Every new tooth, new food and "baby's 1st" was written down including date, where we were & sometimes photos. I even had a special section for the handouts from each pediatrician visit. I imagined that the adult Peanut would find much joy in this book when he had children some day.

Before Sprout was born I spent a great amount of time shopping for the perfect baby book. I eventually decided on an Eric Carle baby book that came in a little box and had brightly colored pages with all the beloved Carle characters. I loved the different milestone sections, the numerous spots for ultrasound photos, baby photos, etc. In the first couple of months I was pretty good about updating things that happened...first smile, rolling over and first Christmas. Then I started just writing things down on post-it notes as they happened and shoving them in the box. Around Sprout's first birthday I pulled the baby book out only to be overwhelmed by a pile of post-its that said things like "10/1 tooth lower left front" and "Sept ? clapped". It was a official. I had done exactly what I promised myself I'd never do.

A better mom might have reinstated her promise and worked harder at documenting her baby's special moments. I, however, have decided just to let this one go. Maybe one day I'll take the time to fill in all of the blank lines. Or maybe he won't care if his baby book has entries like "Summer 2009 - Noticed a few more teeth in there." Have I created a future rivalry between siblings? Or is it just a symptom of, what I like to call, Second Child Syndrome?

Other reasons I will not be awarded Mother of the Year.