Did someone say spa?

I decided to take a little time for me.

A time to unwind, recharge, refuel, pamper, polish and exfoliate.

I made this decision after learning that Big Daddy was going to be gone all day on Sunday in a golf tournament, leaving me to spend another full, jam packed day on my own vs the tag team approach that weekends normally allow for.

Before Little joined the family I was a 'regular' at my local spa, visiting every 6-12 weeks for facials, or massages, pedicures, hot stone massage, body wraps and the like. I love the spa experience: donning the robes, drinking the 'specialty teas' and pouring water filled with fruit, cucumbers, lemons or other treats into goblets while someone takes the time to look after me and tend to my needs. Over a period of time I began to view the treatments as necessary, in order to maintian my youthful appearance, rather then viewing them as a treat. Sadly, during my pregnancy with Little and the post partum period there has been a tremendous time lapse since my last visit. 1 year to be exact. So when I made the phone call to book my appointment I did so without an ounce of mommy guilt.



It felt so good to make the call. In fact, once the call was placed and the treatments and times were booked a long time staff member greeted me over the phone. "Jennifer, it's Heather! It's been a while. I look forward to seeing you."



'Hi Heather, yes it has been a while. Too long in fact. I am looking forward to coming in. See you Saturday!".



When I hung up the phone, I felt a little bit like Norm from 'Cheers' as he took his regular seat at the bar. Moments after the appointment was booked a quick text to Big Daddy told him that I was escaping the mad house for a few hours and he was in charge.



When I woke up that morning I worked diligently to ensure all of the morning chores were done. The kids were fed breakfast, diapers were changed, the kitchen was tidied (knowing that if I left it for Big Daddy, I would only be faced with more dishes. He is many things, but a multi-tasker when children are outnumbering him, he is not), and I showered and began to mentally prepare for my treatments. Today's menu was a massage + pedicure. Delicious!



Moments before heading out the door I confer with Big Daddy to rattle off the last minute instructions for Little. The conversation included me explaining the appropriate time for his morning nap (knowing it would be delayed because Mommy and her Magic Boobies were otherwise engaged); providing suggestions for a mid morning snack, and what to serve for lunch. It was simple. So I thought. I explained that Cheerios & pear were a great idea for a morning snack and that the Couscous & Sweet pepper dish I made the day before were in a freezer tray, not yet having a chance to bag it. Before I turned to leave I asked Big Daddy if he had any questions and if he knew where to find everything. He said he was good, and that he had it all under control so I turned and got the hell out of Dodge.



I ran out the door and sjumped into the car, and noticed how brightly the sun was shinning. I put down the windows, cranked the tunes and I am pretty sure the tires left skid marks on the road as I peeled off down the street.



I arrived at my destination with time to spare and enjoyed reading trashy magazines before I was seated for my treatments. Two and a half blissful hours later, I emerge a new woman. I walk back to the car and begin to wonder what fun we can have in the afternoon.



As I walk into the house Big greets me and tells me to be quiet as Little is napping. Excellent! Daddy did have it under control! As I walk deeper into the house though, the real story begins to reveal itself.



There are new dishes strewn across the table, food has litterally been thrown onto the floor and the walls, the toy box has exploded, Big is still in his pj's (it is at this point, almost 1:30 pm) no one has had lunch and Little fell asleep only minutes before I walked in the door.



I peruse the mess, and I notice that of course Big Daddy has chosen not the couscous, but straight chicken to serve to Little and never thought to mix it with something, which explains why the food is on the floor and the walls. Poor Little has actually gone to bed hungry, is going to be overtired from lack of sleep (which you all know means a wakeful night ahead for mommy) and from what I gather, ended up crying himself to sleep because all other sleep strategies failed.



Frustrated to hell by the disaster that is my kitchen, I begin to tidy up for the gazilionth time. The lovely, blissful feeling that had only moments ago filled my aura, was starting to melt away. Now home, looking at the beautiful mess that is my life, I begin to feel the telling aches from a deep massage, and I notice that although I had a beautiful parafin wax applied to my heels- the damage of a year of neglect can't be undone in 1 treatment. So I reach for a glass of water, as well as a glass of wine, sit back on the couch, tip my head back and sigh. A mom's work is never done.

I'm Flaky; But it's Friday, and it's Funny

Okay, well now that I have calmed down and my blood pressure has returned to normal, I can look back at the crazy morning I had today and laugh. However at the time; it really wasn't funny.

The morning actually started off okay, but it did not take long for it to derail. It looked like everything was going to go my way- Little was up at 7am this morning, and Big got up in a good mood. Eeveryone got their breakfast, got dressed and we were all ready to head out the door on time. My plan was to drop Big off at school, swing home to nurse Little then send him off to Lala land, all before my mom would show up and look after the baby so that I could attend day 2 of the course I am taking.

Since I am not much of a morning person I took the time the night before to pack the lunches and organize what I needed for the day. I did all of the preplanning to make sure I was on time.

All I needed to do before we headed out the door was grab my keys.

Where are my keys?

They are not where they are supposed to be! Hmmm. I quickly search the other 'spots' that my keys sometimes find themselves in. Unfortunately, they are nowhere to be found and I am starting to panick. The perfect plan I had laid out before me was uncoiling rather quickly.

Time is ticking faster now. I am running around the house like the mad hatter, tearing up and down the stairs in vain, searching desperately for my keys. I call Big Daddy on the phone. He doesn't pick up. I call him again so that he knows I am serious. I start to yell at the phone, "Why won't Big Daddy pick up? Where are my keys?" Big starts to cry. "Mommy can we walk to school?" " No sweetie, it's a 15 min walk and I have a course to get to, I am already going to be late".

Minutes later I receive a text "I am in a meeting until 9am". I respond with where the F**ck are my keys?????? He says "I never touched them". I look for the extra set, and I remember that Big Daddy has them on his key chain- GREAT!

I continue to run around the house like a nut. Big continues to cry. Then, CRASH. What's that? Oh, Little finally figures out how to open the front panel to the gas fireplace, sweet. So now off I tear to recover the baby from fatal disaster (the pilot light was off though!) and stick him in the chair as he cries his head off that the big noise startled him. I yell for Big to go and comfort Little as I try to retrace my steps.

Big is trying to be helpful- "The last time you lost your keys Mommy, they were in the laundry room" (Don't judge me). I consider this may again be a possibility, but no.

They are not in the laundry room. They are not in the cupboard, or my purse, or the diaper bag, or the counters, or bathroom, or dining room, computer desk, or jacket. I am still panicking but I am trying to calm myself down so that Big doesn't develop any further anxiety and I say to him, "Don't worry Mum-Mum will be here in a few minutes and I will take you to school in her car". Then he starts to cry for his Mum-Mum. Whatever. Just help me find my freaking keys!

I start to sweat, I want to cry with the kids when I finally step outside and look in the door. Right? WRONG. They are not in the door. I walk out further, perhaps they are on the side table. NO. Wrong Again. I look out to the car, and I see them. Right where I left them the day before. On the roof of my car.

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.**