Summer

I love summer.

It is my favourite time of year. The sun shines, the days are long and I feel like I get so much more accomplished than I do in the winter. And although summer doesn't officially start until the 21st of June, the sights and smells of summer are in full gear in central Ontario. The BBQ has been fired up, the bugs are out and sunscreen is being lathered all over my babies beautiful skin.


One summer tradition we have not yet participated in is a street sale. Next week, however, that will no longer be the case. Participating in this event has meant that we have had to comb through old boxes in the garage and under the stairs to purge ourselves of the crap that we hold onto, that will never be used. We do this in the hopes that some other schmo will purchase said crap and love it and use it. Or better yet, sell it again at their next Yard Sale!

Big is pretty excited about this . He loves to look for the signs advertising Yard Sales on our drive to the Y every Saturday morning for swim lessons. He is hopeful that one day he will come upon a plethera of vintage Star Wars Toys for a real deal. He's so sweet, he thinks he can buy that stuff for cheap. However, he is less enthused about the purging of his toys, and he keeps putting back the toys that I want to put out to pasture. I am sure I will be filling garbage bags full of stuffed toys in the cover of darkness and I hope he will be distracted by the other tables on the street so he doesn't see his toys carried off by some other kid!

As we prepare for this event the big question that is lingering over me is whether or not we sell, gulp, the baby stuff. For four years I made Big Daddy hold onto the Exersaucer, Baby swing, strollers, wagons, bumbo seats, chew toys and the like. He was forever wanting to rid us of 'the clutter' so he could put a car in the garage, and I kept reminding him of the cost to buy it all back after we had our second baby.

Well, the second baby has arrived and is here to stay, his 'stuff' however is on the chopping block. He has begun to outgrow several items that are taking up space in our house, and my parents house too.

I know that the past few entries have been about my frustration regarding my lack of sleep and a baby that won't cooperate, and that this current state was putting a damper on the desire for baby number three. But here I am watching him roll around the hardwood floor trying to remove the vent covers from the floor and he is looking so cute in his AC/DC onesie, and his head is huge, and his eyes are blue and he has fat wrists and inverted knuckles and rolls on rolls, and baby toes and, and, and......

Big Daddy says he's done. He's happy with two and he has said he couldn't love another (which is of course a lie, he would if we had one, but I get it). He is also a firm believer of the rules created by my father: Rule #1 Never let them outnumber you Rule #2 Don't break Rule #1. I used to be a firm believer of that rule. Yet here I am. Sitting on my couch on a beautiful sunny afternoon watching Little roll around the floor while Big has a nap upstairs. And although I don't want a baby right this second, I honestly can't say that I am done having babies.

So what do I do about all the crap? The swing, the bumbo, the bouncy chair, the baby clothes that Little has grown out of?

Well, for now, it looks like we have to keep it. I just can't part with those items. Sorry folks, no crazy deals for a new family hoping to get some baby items on the cheap For now I suppose it will continue to take up space in our house, and I am sure it will all collect a thick layer of dust before I ever come to a decision about being a family of five, or four.

"Well, whatever it is, it's going to be different".

I can't believe it.

I can't believe that I am still dealing with sleep issues.

I thought for sure we would be over this mini roadblock and back to our blissful life of love and happiness.

Boy, was I wrong. It turns out that Little is alot more stubborn than I thought.

When I was pregnant with Little I remember having a conversation with my dad about the person that was growing in my belly and what he or she would be like. I wondered if he would be loud like Big, and if that baby would also be lacking in the department of volume control (Big has limited ability to find and use his 'inside voice'). Would the baby be wiggly like Big always wanting to be on the move, or content to just be. Every visit I had with my parents I would contemplate the person that was to be and my dad, the wise man that he is, looked at me and said: "Well, whatever it is, it's going to be different". As usual, he was right.

Where Big could be put to sleep by anyone and anywhere, Little has proven to be more sensitive. He needs the familiarity of his own room and a consistent routine. Where Big could fly by the seat of his pants happy to be on the go with me from one place to another. Little is content to just sit with you and snuggle, taking in the antics of his louder, older brother, and observing the world through his unblinking baby blue eyes. In fact most visitors comment on how quiet he is. The kid even came with me on the all girls weekend with my girl themombshell , and except to dissapear for a short period of time to nurse him and put him down for a sleep, you would never have known he was there!

So as I sit here and contemplate the differences in my kids, I am trying, desperately, to find the positive.

If you know me at all, you know that I am not one to sit and rest. Until recently, I could be found attending an event for work, volunteering in the community, teaching my Lamaze classes, at the gym, out with friends, mothering the boys, and taking a course, all while trying to keep this house tidy. All of this was possible when I had a baby that would sleep anywhere. Gone are the days when I could just bolt out the door with Big in tow, who was happy to be tagging along on 'an adventure'. Since the arrival of Little I have had to shift many of my priorities that had 'others' before me and sometimes, my family.

Now, I find myself saying a two letter word that, to me, is the dirtiest word in the world: No. I have had to say 'no' to many things over the past year and a bit, and, I have to admit, it does get easier every time I say it. The pit of dispair that normally fills my gut at the thought of dissapointing someone, or letting someone down is easing up, a bit. Well, enough that I know that the world won't actually end if I don't do something. Perhaps this sensitivity Little has to sleeping out of the house, is actually a gift (like I said folks, I'm trying to find 'the positive' and I believe in alot of self talk!).

It has forced me to be still, and to live in the moment (even the horrible ones). To stick close to home and spend time with the people that mean the most to me. Sometimes this new lifestyle can be inconvenient and the old Jen gets frustrated and stir crazy at the thought of staying home. But then I remind myself that this is a short term problem. Soon enough my life will be back on track with the comings and goings of my busy life.

Don't get me wrong. I will continue to fight the good fight, and I plan on fixing Little's wagon so that getting out of the house will be easier. But while we work on developing this new skill, you'll know where to find me. At the bottom of a wine glass (just kidding!). At home, with Big and Little.

Mother Love, Mother Guilt and all the feelings in between

This year on Mother's Day I enjoyed a lovely brunch made by Big Daddy, I received a gift certificate to purchase some jewelry (I have my eye on some new earings), Big made me a beautiful painting at school and my darling little brother and his super awesome wife had flowers delivered to the house. They are so gorgeous that I took a picture to show you!

My parents came over for a visit and we all enjoyed a nice meal together (my mom also brought me some ready to make meals to save me from cooking dinner this week). On Saturday my in-laws spent the afternoon with us and my lovely MIL gave me some money to put towards the purchase of new jeans-hooray! It is so nice to be spoiled, isn't it? My family did a great job to make me feel loved and appreciated and the Mother's Day weekend was a great one.

So, isn't it ironic that only 1 day after Mother's Day,a day when Mother's are loved and Mother's love even more than the other 364 days of the year that go unnoticed, that I find myself in a battle with my littlest offspring.

To date, my relationship with my littlest man has been pure bliss. Our love affair has been without roadbumps, roadblocks or obstacles of any kind. He is a very calm, pleasant, smiley, easy-going, loveable, huggable boy. In two words he is: pure awesome. He is such a great baby that up until the other night, I was seriously considering a 3rd. Now, I am not so sure (I can hear the sigh of relief coming from Big Daddy as he feels we should live by my father's golden rules: Rule #1 Never let them outnumber you. Rule #2 Don't break Rule #1).

So, what has caused Little and I to cross the ever so delicate line between love and hate? I can hear my mother now "There's a fine line between love and hate, Jennifer"- always making this comment after my across the street neighbour, Ryan, had irritated me to the point of major emotional erruption. I admit that was not hard to do, I am a bit of a drama queen. But this story is not about a short lived romance with the boy across the street. This is a story about the day when Little 'forgot' how to sleep!

He used to be quite stellar. Sure, he didn't always make it through the night, but you could always count on being able to place him wide awake in bed , walk away and he would drift off to lala land all on his own. Then the other day, in a flash, it was over. Soon I found myself pacing the floor, rocking and sitting, combined with interludes of letting him CIO for a while , only to go back in the room to try the shhh-pat/PUPD technique a-la Baby Whisperer (which normally works like magic). After about, I don't know the 50th attempt at trying to get this little terror to finally go to sleep, I had to call in the reinforcements. I was spent. I had no more tricks up my sleeve.

Luckily for me and Little, Big Daddy took my 'sublte cues' to go in to the room and woo this babe back to sleepyville. These cues included, but were not limited to: swearing, sighing, kicking covers off and flinging myself down to the pillows out of frustration and exhaustion, followed by a fairly strong 'nudge' (okay, maybe more of a jab) and a "You go deal with him- I'm through!".

Like I said, I was subtle.

Like a bomb.

45 minutes after sending Big Daddy into the room, I finally heard him return to our bed, slide under the covers and fall back asleep. Later I found out that he didn't do any of the sleep training techniques we have used in the past. Instead he sat in the rocker holding his baby boy until sleep found him again. I was only mildly annoyed that this was the option he chose while I sweated it out trying to 'teach' this kid to sleep properly. However, I was so thankful to not be in the room anymore and happy that this baby finally went back to sleep after being AWAKE for over 2 hours in the middle of the night, that I chose not to say anything. If I have learned anything at all over 7 years of marraige it is that you have to pick your battles.

The next night wasn't any better. So this time when Big Daddy was sent in I didn't ask him what he did to get him back to sleep. I just didn't care. All I was a break from the bruiser.

By the third night I found the inner strength and patience to deal with Little again. This time my killer PU/PD method +shhh pat worked and he was back off to sleep in 10 minutes. On night 4 we had success again with only a brief disruption of sleep.

Today as I finally have some time to write I remain hopeful that by the end of the week our Little will be sleeping through the night again and peace and bliss will once again return to this household.

Fingers crossed.

If not, babies are usual 'For Sale' at 2 am. Inquire within.

**Editor's note: This blog post has been in draft mode for 1 week and we are still dealing with sleep challenges. Desire for 3rd baby continues decrease. A sister for the brothers is becoming less likely with each passing night. Sob.**

Knock, Knock Jokes, & Birthin' Babies by: Big

We love to read in our house. Big's favourite passtime, next to playing Star Wars or Spiderman, is to read. Books are always scattered around and we are often found cuddled up on the couch. Earlier in the year, Big and I attended the Family Literacy Night at his school and when we visited the table with book suggestions for boys I picked up a title that was the most age appropriate. It was a knock, knock book. Well, that went over very well. Big lauged his head off at all of the humerous puns and was trying his best to recite them back. I made sure that on our next trip to the public library, joke books would be on the menu, along with the usual repitoire of Spiderman or Star Wars (May the force be with you!).

As time went on, Big's ability to deliver the punch line improved. Although, he still struggles with the knock-knock joke that involves a banana and an orange. You know the one:
Knock- Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Knock-Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana Who? and so it continues until you say Orange.
Orange who? Orange you glad I didn't say Banana!
In his defence, my mother can't tell that joke either! Oh Mom!

Fast forward a few weeks plus several knock-knock and joke books later, and we find ourselves on a Monday evening. I am preparing to teach a private Lamaze series to an expectant couple. I have been a certified Lamaze Educator for 3 years now, and have always taught private or group sessions in my home. Big is very familiar with the routine and has always enjoyed welcoming the clients to the house. This night was no different. My husband was trying to settle Little into bed, so Big was playing on the main level while waiting for his dad to collect him and put him to bed. Unfortunately, on this night, Little was putting up a fight and my husband was detained for longer then he planned. It wasn't long before Big started to creep down the stairs and ask to watch me while I taught. I said that was fine as long as he was quiet. Silly me!

Soon my little side kick had crept his way from the stairs to my side in order to 'help me' with the class. Since that was tolerated (only because daddy was still upstairs having been taken hostage by Little) Big thought it would also be okay to share some jokes with his new friends. As I am trying to explain the physiological and emotional changes they can expect during labour, Big pipes up with a knock- knock joke:
Big: "Hey Guys. Knock-Knock"
I of course give him 'the look', but the parents to be find him charming and buy into this entire routine, so they respond with "Whos there?"
"Dwayne"
"Dwayne who?"
"Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwowning"

We all chuckle and I thank him for the joke and attempt to send him back to the stairs to be quiet. Big, of course, was just getting started.

"Knock-Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Police"
"Police Who?"
"Police open up, it's freezing out here"

"Thank you Big. Now it really is time to go back and be quiet". I apologized to the clients, who still find my son so charming, polite and handsome (all of which he is, but the point of the gathering was to talk birth, not swap knock-knock jokes).

To his credit, Big took the hint and retreated back to the stairs rather quickly. Unfortunately my husband was still dealing with Little who was continuing to scream his head off because mommy was unavailable to give him her magic boobie. Mildly distracted by the screaming upstairs and the interruptions by Big, we press on through our content. Then it seems like the next time I turn around, Big is back beside me. This time though he is interrupting me to explain what he is seeing on the chart that I am using to describe the stages of labour.

"Oh, that orange spikey line makes the mommy crazy". Huh? What are you talking about? So I look at the chart and notice that the lines that represent a contraction are orange and very spikey, indicating transition. So I say to Big, "You are right. This part of labour is very difficult, and sometimes we feel a little crazy during the intense part of birth, it's really hard work. Thank you for your contribution to the class little helper, now away you go".

But wait, he was not done yet. He decides at that point that a demonstration is in order to teach this couple how babies are born. So, he picks up the baby doll and the pelvis skeleton that I use as a teaching aid, turns to the mom and says "Don't worry. The baby just goes down like this (he puts the baby in head first, which I thought was great!), and they come out very gently". He was so honest and sincere with this comment that I had to chuckle, hug him and send him on his way again.

I then turned to the couple and apologized again for the interruptions. Big went back upstairs, and I thought for sure that the comments and interruptions from the peanut gallery were finally finished. I could hear the footsteps of a free man making their way down the stairs to collect his other son and put him to bed. However, before the teachers helper was tucked tightly into bed with no ability to escape we heard him whisper:

"Hey Guys. What do teeth ride down the highway? Molarcycles!"
Hahahahah!

When Pigs Fly

Last night I couldn't sleep. I wanted to, I really, really did. There were passing moments of REM, but most of the time, I was half aware that I was only half asleep.

What was keeping me up, you ask? My brain. Yes, that's right. The parts of my brain that I have managed to retain and keep in fairly good condition following the birth of 2 babies and little sleep over a 4 year period, was functioning in high gear last night.

Thoughts would zoom in and out as I tossed and turned in bed. I thought about what the kids and I would do today (perhaps a trip to the zoo?);check weather report; made mental lists of all of the chores I need to accomplish; made a mental 'Honey, Do' list for my lovely husband (paint mainfloor powder room); mentally pictured what main floor powder room should look like; call accountant; spend tax return to renovate front porch(yes, finally we get our money BACK from the government); put finances in order; brainstormed over topics that would be appropriate to post in my blog; planned a vacation to visit my brother in California Christmas 2010; put finances in order; thought about my blog; renovate front porch; spend tax return; call accountant; paint main floor powder room, what colour? Grey?; Return to and expand 'Honey, Do' List; Mommy chores; trip to the zoo; check weather report; Repeat.


Hmmm, maybe if Big and Little don't want to go to the zoo then maybe we can all stay home and nap. Yeah, right; when pigs fly.