Party of Four

Oh my. Would you believe me if I told you it had been five weeks since our second daughter was born? FIVE WEEKS? It's one of those crazy things where I sometimes stop and say to myself, "Wow, these weeks have flown by!" and I sometimes say, "Wow, only five weeks? It feels like she's been here forever." (That's possibly the lack of sleep talking - dozing in two hour stretches can sometimes make your brain do funny things.)

And so it goes.

I don't really want to bore you with all the minute details of Amelia's birth, but there are a few key points I'd like to highlight and remember. The first one being, clearly, that I really don't recommend spending your last baby-free night sleeping in a tent out in your backyard. It obviously wasn't planned that way - my due date was still over a week away - but I can remember sleepily thinking to myself as I was peeing in the yard for the third time that I would be really pissed if I wasted my last precious night of uninterrupted slumber in a sleeping bag in the freezing cold with a toddler who kept stealing my blanket and a husband who snored through it all. Wouldn't you know it, my water broke the next afternoon.

Waking up to this pretty much made it all worth it, though.

Amelia knew what she was doing, however. In fact, her timing couldn't have been better. Almost my entire pregnancy, my father-in-law joked that September 30th would be a perfect day for her arrival - his birthday, too. And since we never got it together to send him a present, our new daughter knew just how to make us look like the best gift givers in the history of ever. I think the lady from the birth records department came to our room no less than five times, only to be turned away because we hadn't made a final name decision. After consulting many, many people (including all of our nurses and the poor birth records lady), the choice was clear. Amelia and her Opa (Albert Jacob Arends) share initials, and her middle name, Jacoba, is from her great-grandmother on his side. We've been calling her Mia more often than not, and Anna still sometimes throws in a Joey - what she called the baby all throughout my pregnancy.

It also worked out that my sister and brother-in-law were in town. Without being too graphic, let me just say that when your water breaks and your sister arrives minutes later with adult diapers in hand, you know some kind of fate was involved. All kidding aside, having them and my parents here was incredible. I was an emotional wreck, trying to bake cookies and snuggle with Anna and pack my hospital bag, and they were here answering my questions and cleaning my kitchen and letting Mike and I have some quiet time before we left for the hospital. My sister might want to seriously consider a side career as a doula...

And then she was here. And all those things people say about your heart growing even bigger than you imagined it could proved to be true. For me, I am finding it so much easier to just enjoy Amelia because I've experience first hand how quickly it goes by. Yes, I was exhausted when they placed her in my arms for the first time. Yes, she didn't want to be put down, preferring to snuggle against one of our chests. But those things will change. We will eventually sleep. Soon enough she will be a toddler whose idea of cuddling lasts about 3.2 seconds. With Anna, it wasn't always easy to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I see it now, and if the tunnel lasts a little bit longer it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

We're settling in. We're adjusting. Our first night home from the hospital our poor dog got locked out of the house all night. And on our first outing as a foursome we drove away from the gas pump without paying - luckily the nice policeman who knocked on our door was very understanding (And in all fairness, Mike did swipe the card. The machine didn't read it. Swearsies.).

We're taking it one day at a time and basically just doing what all other parents try to do - get both kids to nap at the same time. (Victory is mine today! Hooray!)

Baby "Joey" on Halloween

Welcome to the world, Amelia. We are so very, very glad that you are here.

Nap Time, I Thought We Were Cool

I think that Mike and I are dealing with a little Post-Traumatic Stress when it comes to Anna's sleeping habits. I mean, the kid has been slumbering twelve to thirteen hours a night in her own crib for more than a year, and I swear to you the one night she happens to wake up we both get all twitchy and angry and totally revert to our sleep-deprived maniacal selves. That's the way we functioned the entire first year of her life, because girlfriend was not what is known as the kind of baby who, well, sleeps like a baby. Or, rather, maybe she was, and the person who came up with that expression is a huge jackass.

I've been noticing lately lots of pictures of kids popping up on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram sleeping in totally random places - sacked out in front of their blocks, curled up with the family dog, sawing logs in their high chair - and I find myself chuckling and feeling just the tiniest bit jealous. Because there is no chance in hell that Anna would EVER fall asleep anywhere but in a moving vehicle, someone's arms, or her crib. And while we've come leaps and bounds since her first year, (despite her lack of spontaneous nodding off) there have been some changes 'round here in her sleeping patterns, and they've got me quaking in my boots.

The rarest of all Anna sightings - spontaneous sleeping!

I am starting to fear that Anna is coming to the end of napping days. It hurts almost to type it. Nap time - those treasured two or three hours every day when I can pop open a bottle of pinot and catch up on reality TV (ha)- seems to be disappearing. I put Anna in her crib, and no joke, two hours later she will still be in there laughing and singing and talking to her toys. She's not crying or complaining - she's genuinely having fun. As I type this I can hear her calling to Super Grover to bring her a sandwich. Some days she finally seems to give up and go to sleep, but by then it's pretty much the time she's supposed to be waking up, and her whole schedule gets out of whack. Other days, she fights it and I relent and go get her. At first, on the days she would miss her nap, come six o'clock she would be a walking little terror. But lately I've noticed that missing her nap doesn't seem to throw her off as much as it used to, and she goes to sleep at night much faster and easier. Is this how it all ends? Please say it ain't so!

Two smaller things have been happening, but none so life-altering as the loss of the nap. First, Anna has rediscovered sleeping with her mama and dada. It started one of those twitchy nights when she woke up for some reason or another, and instead of putting in the work to rock her or sing to her or rub her back while she went back to sleep, I simply scooped her up and brought her into our bed. As I was doing I thought to myself, "Oh, this could be trouble!" But then we all snuggled up and slept wonderfully and that was that. Until two nights later, when she was up again. This time, I was more determined (less lazy?), but Anna had other plans. Immediately she was asking, "Sleep in dada's bed?" Well played, kid. So far, it hasn't been too much of a problem - she's probably been joining us about once a week, and both Mike and I sort of like having her around. She did sleep with us the entire first year of her life, after all. The girl knows how to get what she wants, though, and we have created a (snuggle) monster. I submit the following photo as evidence:

She somehow convinced my sister to share a twin bed with her...

The last thing is much less dramatic, although it definitely has the possibility to be, well, messier. Several mornings a week I open Anna's door to find a small pile on the floor consisting of pajamas and a diaper. And a naked, bouncy toddler grinning up at me. So far, no accidents, but who knows how long that luck will last. The girl wants to be naked, I guess.

Who can blame her, really?

All is quiet in her room now, which means that she'll probably be asleep until dinner. So I best be gettin' my drink on. Or, you  know, folding some laundry.

Parents - when did your kids drop their naps? Am I fooling myself in thinking this might just be a phase? And any tips for keeping my baby clothed (and her crib free of poop)?? 

Hush, Little Baby

Warning: This is the post where I talk about my boobs.

But before you get all excited (or grossed out?), let me clarify by saying that this blog entry is going to be about my boobs and how they feed my baby and how it's awesome.

Still with me?

I've had breastfeeding on the brain a lot lately, mostly because Anna is doing less and less of it, and I can tell that it won't be long before we're totally done. And for some crazy reason, I find myself getting all sentimental and emotional about it - the fact that she is growing and changing at an alarming rate, that she is needing me less and less, and the realization that being a mama truly has changed me.

I would be lying if I said that nursing has always been enjoyable, or even tolerable, because it hasn't. Far from it. But from the moment I first read about how beneficial it would be for my baby and for me, I knew it was something I wouldn't let go of lightly and would try my hardest to endure. And at the beginning, that's all I was doing - getting through. Because I was exhausted and sore and totally unprepared for what I had gotten myself into. Babies eat twelve times a day? For forty minutes at a time? And I am the sole provider? Good grief.

Slowly, though, things began to change, and we got into a groove. It helps that my family was supportive and it also helped that I had a Kindle. It sounds crazy, but the hours spent in that rocking chair went by a lot faster with something to read, and the Kindle has the added bonus of needing only one hand to operate. I learned to nurse Anna while laying down, and even though some people thought we were out of our minds, bringing her into bed with us at night allowed us all to sleep.

Suddenly, both Anna and I knew what we were doing, and the quiet time we were spending together became a lot more enjoyable. I had a built-in excuse to kick back and relax every couple of hours with my favorite girl, with the added bonus of being able to eat as much as I wanted and still lose weight.

Somewhere in between the sleepness nights and diaper changes and hours spent marveling over the little person we brought into the world, I began to gain more confidence in myself as a mother and person. Maybe I can't always keep my counters free of clutter or the fridge stocked, but if there's one thing that nursing my baby has taught me, it's that I'm capable and strong. I might not always love the way I look in my jeans or the way my hair is frizzing out in the summer humidity, but it is this body that has helped to nourish and feed the tiny being toddling around and exploring her surroundings.

I distinctly remember the first moment that Anna latched on. It was early in the morning after she was born, probably around four, and I was wide awake with awe and excitement and fear. My daughter cried, and I used my own body to calm and soothe her and I will never forget that feeling.

I imagine that the last time I nurse her is quickly approaching, and I'm doing my best to cherish these moments, to hold her a little closer as she falls asleep in my arms, to breathe in her sweet smell, and to be grateful for the peaceful time we still have together.

What is Normal?

I'm going to go all tenth-grade term paper on you and start this post out with a definition from our good friend Webster.

According to Webster's Dictionary, the word normal means conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern.  (Actually, there were about thirty definitions, but I'm not about to sit here and type them all out.)

Last week, Mike and I were at the local hardware store picking up a few things we needed (thank you, Mr. Snowplower Man, for knocking our mailbox twenty feet into our front yard) and we got to talking with one of the guys that work there.  As Anna was stumbling around amongst the watering cans and bags of fertilizer, he asked us, "So...are you ready for things to get back to normal?" and then sort of started chuckling to himself.  "Because, this is it.  This is the new normal, and it's never going back." 

His words have kind of stuck with me the past couple of days.  Not in the "Oh crap, my life is never going to be normal again" way, but more in the "Wow, it's amazing how fast something becomes normal" way.  Anna has only been in our lives a little over a year, and already our sense of normal has probably changed a hundred times.  For months and months it was completely normal for her to wake up every hour, and then, suddenly, our new normal includes ten straight hours of blissful slumber.  She used to be content sitting quietly in her playpen with a few toys to keep her occupied, now she's only happy if she's tearing around the house, leaving a path of destruction behind her and wreaking havoc on any attempts at straightening up I might make. 

In no time, a new normal will take over, and the one we know now will be a distant memory.  Someday, I will miss finding an entire roll of toilet paper unwound on the bathroom floor, or the entire contents of my sock drawer strewn about my bedroom.  To quote a super cheesy Darius Rucker song (that's Hootie, by the way - he's gone country, and just a little bit sappy): "It won't be like this for long. One day soon that little girl is gonna be all grown up and gone. Yeah, this phase is gonna fly by, so he's tryin' to hold on."

In conclusion (I started high school style, may as well finish that way, too), I would like to state that I know our girl is a long, long way from being grown up and gone. And while I am not always thrilled to find Anna elbow deep in the dogs' water bowl or surrounded by an entire package of baby wipes that she managed to open and pull out in the twenty seconds I wasn't looking, I am going to try to hold on to this normal for as long as I can.

I Like To Smile. Smiling's My Favorite.

It's amazing how quickly my body has responded to this whole "my baby is sleeping through the night" thing. In a little over two weeks, my sleep intake has gone from one or two hours at a time with a baby smushed against me all night, to eight, nine, even ten glorious hours with Anna in her crib and a husband smushed against me. And it has been awesome. I have energy. I'm enjoying my baby girl so much more. I have actually showered and gotten dressed every day this week. Nothing short of a miracle, I tell you.

Except we had a minor setback last night.  I was forced out of my bed once, around two, and then she was wide awake and ready to start the day around six.  Three weeks ago, I would have been having a little party in my kitchen at six in the morning, celebrating how long she had slept and marveling at how great I felt.  But that was the old me. And now that I've tasted the good stuff, I don't ever want to go back.

So there I am, bright and early - which Mike loves, by the way, since it means we can all have breakfast together - and I discover something horrible.  We. Are. Out. Of. Coffee.  (Insert crazy, maniacal scream here.)

I would like to say that I was never much of a coffee drinker before Anna came along. Sure, I enjoyed the occasional icy, sugary, whipped-cream-covered, coffee-ish beverage, but I certainly could go days, weeks even, without a caffeine surge. A couple of things changed all that...

1. Mike and I got a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas a few years ago. This lovely little machine brews only one cup at a time, eliminating the hassle of grinding beans, setting up a filter, and then pouring out almost a whole pot after brewing ten cups for one person.

2. My darling sister introduced me to a tasty drink known as the soy latte.  Up until that point, I had never had a "regular" order from a coffee place.  My whole coffee world was turned upside down with one sip, and I began traveling to Starbucks on a daily basis with a little more frequency.

3. I then discovered Silk vanilla soy creamer, the perfect solution to the money suck that my trips to Starbucks were becoming - and I could enjoy delicious, hot coffee in my own house.

Mix those things up with a new mom with a little baby who does not sleep and voila!  A coffee drinker was born. I can remember being little and trying to avoid my mom at all costs until she had consumed at least one cup of coffee in the morning and totally not understanding how she could drink something so disgusting or why she seemed to absolutely need it to function like a rational person. I get it now. Completely. And if it wasn't for the the fact that I'm still nursing, I could probably swill three or four cups a day, no problem.  Alas, I'm limited to one (sometimes two if I'm feeling extra crazy) but it's enough to have me hooked. I crave it in the mornings.  I get headaches from withdrawal if there is no caffeine surging through my veins by lunchtime. 

So when I realized we were out, I did what any other sleep-deprived, caffeine junkie would do. I panicked.  I started flinging things in drawers, pulling boxes off shelves, shouting obscenities, trying to find my fix.  And there, in the back corner of the top shelf of one of our cabinets, I found what I needed.  A packet of coffee from a gift basket we probably received years ago. It had dust on it. And it was maple flavored.  Seriously?  Who drinks maple flavored coffee?  Buddy the Elf?  Yep, Buddy the Elf and this girl.  And as bad as it was, it was so good.

That's when it hit me. I absolutely need coffee to function like a rational person, just like my mom. Even if it tastes like pancakes. Sigh. I may not feel like a functioning adult in most aspects of my life, but I've certainly got the coffee drinking part down.  It's a start, right?