A Thousand Tiny Moments

This afternoon, the Reds were a stinky, filthy mess after the impromptu soccer game in our dog-poop and mud-filled backyard.

One after the other I tossed them into the shower, scrubbing away the dirt and listening to their happy play-by-plays. Sent them downstairs while I gathered up their wet things in a basket and contemplated the wisdom of throwing their running shoes into the washing machine, too.

From the bathroom, Mark prepared his own shower as I added his clothes to the mix, clucking and smiling at the fact that no matter how old boys get, they're happiest when they're dirty.

"Some boys came up the road while Matthew was showering," Mark said, conversationally, as I sorted and tossed. "Three of them, on bikes, in the middle of the road."

"Oh, yeah?" I stopped then, sharpened my gaze on his face, which was suddenly filled with something I could not place but now recognize as tenderness.

"They asked if Matthew lives here. They're friends of his from school and wanted to know if he could join them."

I stared at him, processing a flurry of suddenly overwhelming feelings and thinking hard.

Lowered the basket to my hip and took a deep breath in.

Blew it out.

"Huh. I guess it's about that time, eh?"

Mark smiled then, a gentle one, just for me. "Yep. It's about that time."

Another deep breath from me, followed by a sigh that came from the very bottom of my heart. "I guess this is the part where we trust him to make the right choices and be safe and ride off with his friends."

"They were all wearing helmets."

"Well, that's something, anyway," I offered him a tremulous smile of my own before gently closing the door to leave him to his business and his own thoughts.

Came down to start supper and think about how much I want to stop Time, for  just a moment longer.

Realized - though not for the first time - that letting go isn't a big, huge step.

 It's a thousand tiny moments, just like this one - when the world outside beckons my children to come out and explore, discover and learn...my job is to let go and trust them to do just that.

But I can't help but think, "Weren't they JUST born?"

Monitoring My Blessings...Again

Am considering making "Monitoring My Blessings" a monthly gig around here, as the Reds are giving me much blog fodder these days.

This week, (read: most of the time) I've posted snippets of their  overheard-via-the-baby-monitor conversations on Facebook, because:

a) I am FB friends with practically everyone I've ever known in my entire life and
b) I'm lazy.

But the awesome and talented Leanne from Ironic Mom AND Nickmom.com fame, has inspired me. She does a a "Whiteboard Wednesday" thing, in which she writes down the weird stuff her kids inspire her to mutter throughout the week.

"Hey!" I thought, "What a great idea! I think I shall shamelessly copy follow suit!"


So now you should

a) Read the stuff that keeps [me and] the Reds up at night, long after they've been put to bed,

b) Leave your own "overheard conversational tidbit" in the comment section,
c) Come and find me on Facebook. Oh, come on....you know you wanna....

*Insert incredulous tone from Luke/shot of Baileys by me, here*

And then, he reveals his true feelings about Mummy Dearest....

BONUS: A pre-dinner conversation at the end of a long, long week:

 

The Upside to Feeling Down...

Short and sweet:

Matthew: Mummy, do you know what the best part of my surgery was?
Belly: The popsicles?
Matthew: Well, that was cool, but no.
Belly: The codeine?
Matthew: Is that the woozy medicine?
Belly: Yes.
Matthew: No. The best part was getting to hang out with you longer.
Belly: Aw, thanks, bug. It was pretty special to me, too.
Matthew: So, how 'bout I don't go to school tomorrow so we can hang out more?

And you? What has your kid said today that made you laugh, despite yourself?

Welcome to Parenthood: Part III (Sleep and Learning to Love Mess)

Missed Part One? Go here: Welcome: Part One

Wanna re-read Part Two because it's mostly about boobs? Go here, perv: Welcome: Part Two


Re: Part III

I am too tired to write about sleep and my dishes still need to be washed.

Love,
Belly

Welcome to Parenthood: Part II

* This is Part Two of a piece written for my neighbour, who has recently had her first child. For Part One, go here: Welcome to Parenthood: Part 1*

Breast vs. Bottle

This is a doozy - deciding whether to formula-feed or breast-feed. Since I've done both, I feel compelled to offer my opinion about both methods, both of which were the best decision that I could have made for my child. The formula-fed child is gorgeous and healthy and I loved watching him grow into himself. The breast-fed child is gorgeous and healthy and I loved watching him grow into himself.

Whichever you decide, know this: She will grow and thrive and love you.

Period.

Formula Pros
1. Anyone can do it. Even your husband who may try to claim ignorance. Don't let him. He can and WILL feed the child you both created. So there.
1 b) This means you can shower. Alone. For at least 20 minutes, 25 if burping takes awhile.
2. It doesn't hurt.
3. You can eat tons of spicy food and drink a glass of wine celebrating parenthood without worrying that you're risking your child's future mathematical skills.
4. As long as you have water and a bottle, you can feed the baby pretty much anywhere.
5. Around Month Six or so, you can prop the bottle in your baby's hands and she can feed herself.
5 b) You can shower.
6. There is no awkward fumbling about with clasps on your bra or worrying about exposing yourself to passerby. Or your father.
7. It's good for your baby, providing valuable vitamins and nutrients and other such yummy goodness.

Formula Cons

1. It can be expensive. If you buy the ready-made tins, you'll pay for the privilege and the powdered stuff involves measuring and teaspoons, which is a LOT to deal with at 3 a.m.and you've been awake since yesterday.
2. It involves measuring and teaspoons and access to hot water at all times.
3. You may find that your child's sensitive digestive system does not appreciate certain formulas. Half-open and discarded tins of various formula brands will pile up alarmingly in your recycling box until you find the right one.
4. The poop of a formula-fed baby is, quite possibly, the worst smell known to man. Unless you've wandered into my house after Luke has filled his diapers, at which point, your baby's poop will smell like roses. I'm just saying.

Boob Pros

1. Breast milk is free.
2. Breast milk is always the perfect temperature and portable.
3. Although a light breeze going by hurts them, your boobs look absolutely fan-friggin'-tastic in ANY shirt    you own. Take photos because they will never be this high and smokin' hot again. Trust me.
4. It's good for your baby, providing vitamins and nutrients and other yummy goodness ending in "oxidants."
 5. If conversations bore you or you just want to drift off for 20 minutes, you can use nursing as an excuse to leave the room. Ditto for any social obligation that you resent having to fulfill: wedding, funeral, baby shower, Pampered Chef party...
6. You are, literally, growing a human being with your body. Powerful, heady stuff.


Boob Cons

1. Nursing hurts.
Holy mother of God, it hurts so much - in the beginning - that your toes curl at the mere thought of nursing and you've taken to hunching over while walking because every time your baby so much as whimpers, your milk lets down and you're simply assuming the position in advance. This too shall pass. Eventually.

2. Nipples.
Everyone will have an opinion about the state/shape/size/dimension and usefulness of your nipples. You will find yourself talking about your nipples with strangers in the ER, the Health Unit or the nursing room at Sears. Some of those strangers may even reach out as though they mean to TOUCH your nipples, especially women who've nursed so many children they consider themselves honourary lactation consultants.

Here are some examples of the sorts of things you will ponder or be asked. Or both:

Are they inverted? Why are there hairs on them?
Is the baby sucking them so that they look like a lipstick, and if so, is she creating the right shape for the nipstick, because it's supposed to matter.
Do your nipples bleed or itch and why are that woman's purple?
Is the baby getting enough nipple or not enough?
Does she prefer one to the other and in the name of all that's holy, will the ever stop feeling like they're on fire?

This too shall pass.

3. Thrush.
It's itchy and painful - like the yeast infection it actually is, just not in the spot you'd previously envisioned before reading this - and makes you crave bread and sweets and then you fart. A lot. (Which is neither here nor there, except that you may have noticed that since giving birth, farts ripple from areas of your body not previously known for flatulence. Anything you can do to alleviate that sort of weirdness is recommended.)

You can get a prescription for thrush, but it involves the coating of nipples and then rinsing before nursing, so be warned. Gentian Violet is purple and you coat it on your nipples before nursing, too, only the baby will suckle it off, which a) saves you from having to rinse your nips 5,678 times a day and b) coats her tiny, perfect mouth and rids it of any lingering yeast.


4. Mastitis.

Take the drugs.


Speaking of boobs....

S-E-X (alt. title: Are you effing kidding me?)

You're gonna have to do it again, sometime. Perhaps even sometime soon. If you have a wise and compassionate OBGYN or midwife, s/he will write a note to your husband, excusing you from sex for the next three months. It's unlikely, but s/he might, if you ply her with wine and chocolates first.

If you have any friends or relations who "did the deed"  before their six-week check up, make certain that they do NOT, under any circumstance, mention this fact in front of your husband.


If you have "that" friend or relation who insists that she made gentle love in the hospital bed mere hours after pushing a human being into the world through her vagina, stop speaking to her immediately. NEVER speak to her again. If YOU are that woman then even thought we're neighbours, you'll understand that I can no longer speak to you.

Let's say you did not receive a "get-out-of-sex" card and are dreading looking forward to a passionate reunion with your husband. Here's the truth:

It's gonna hurt. Maybe a lot. Maybe for several months afterward. BUT:

It gets better. You may find yourself buying stocks in lube and wine from the County, but it does get better.

I promise.

Now snuggle up with your daughter. Tomorrow, we'll talk about sleep and why housework is overrated.

Love,
Belly

Welcome to Parenthood: Part 1

*This is Part One of a "Welcome to Parenthood" piece I've been working on whilst waiting for my neighbour to give birth to her first child. Part Two to follow...*



My across-the-road-neighbours have just become parents. I haven't been over yet, wanting to give them the space to delight and coo over their perfect pink bundle, but I've had a present wrapped and waiting for weeks.

It's the card that's had me up nights, pacing the hallway. What to write? Something wise. Something witty. Something that says, "Hey there. Welcome to the toughest job you'll ever love," without sounding like an ad for the armed forces.

For Jessica

Love:

This is it. Her. Every triumph, every disappointment, every decision, every heartache, wrong turn, right choice, wish-upon-a-star and bitter regret has led you here to this moment, to THIS child and nothing will ever, ever be the same.

You will understand, possibly for the first time, what it is to love another person with your whole heart, without conditions. (You may now realize that you'd been previously misled, believing that your love for your  husband was unconditional. Phffttt. Whatever. The sooner such drivel gets taken out of wedding vows, the better off we'll all be. But I digress...)

Your marriage is forever changed - no longer are you a unit. You are a family. Allow your gratitude and overwhelming affection for your husband to buoy you on the days when you want to throw him out the window. Praise his efforts to dress or bathe the baby, even if he's doing it all wrong.  Tell him that men who wear babies - in their arms, on their chests, on their backs or on their hip - are sexy and that you read online that they resume marital relations sooner than the average. (This blog counts as "online" just so you know.)

A newfound appreciation for your loved ones may surprise you, but I urge you to enjoy it. There will come a moment, in the middle of it all, when it will occur to you that this is how YOUR mother felt when she held you for the first time. It will stun and awe you and you will, not for the first time but perhaps most profoundly, feel part of a powerful kind of sisterhood. Call your mother, whether she's across the country or just in the next room. Say, "Thank you for loving me this much" and watch her face soften and bloom. She knows.

Mama Lenses
Now that you are a mother, the world will shimmer with previously unseen beauty - you will smile at strangers more often and exchange a secret, knowing look with every woman with a stroller. Isn't it all so amazing? I am delighted to tell you that this feeling doesn't ever entirely go away.

Conversely, the nightly news will bring you to tears and you will feel crushing guilt that you brought a child into such a terrible, war-filled, violent, depressing world. Suddenly, every show on TV will be about a child/mention a child/have a cast of characters who were, at some point, children themselves and this will prove to be your undoing.

These feelings don't ever really go away, either, but you will gain some perspective around Year Three, when you are in Potty-Training Hell - a terrible and depressing place all of its own. See? It all balances out, in the end.

Sleep:

As you rock and snuggle her tiny, perfect form long, long into the night (or perhaps greet the day with her tucked up close, next to your heart) you will feel more like a woman than you ever have before and you will think to yourself, "I was born so that she would be, too."

You may also think things like, "If my tiny, precious angel doesn't let me sleep soon, I am going to KILL myself."

This too shall pass. Eventually, she will settle into a routine of her own choosing - you will learn to adjust your bedtime schedule accordingly. You will also learn to sleep standing up at the sink,  whilst eating yesterday's toast.

In the meantime, if you have any friends or relations who say things like, "I wish I had some advice for you. Mine slept like an angel, straight through the night, from birth," stop talking to them immediately. In the bubble that is New-Parent Land, there is no room for liars.

Welcome to Parenthood: Part II