Toddler Tyranny

Things that Johnny says to me on a daily basis:

"No Mommy dance!"
"No Mommy sing!"
"No Mommy turn fan on!"
"No Mommy hum!"
"No Mommy put jelly on it!"
"No Mommy put me in car!"
"No Mommy put toys away!"
"No Mommy turn off TV!"
"No Mommy sit!"
"No Mommy sleep!"
"No Mommy stand!"
"No Mommy go in Johnny's room!"
"No Mommy play with my numbers!"

And those are the things I hear daily. This list doesn't even include what I hear if we are out and about in public or at bath time, or bed time for that matter. It doesn't include the stuff he commands me to do (as opposed to what I should NOT do).

I knew when he was born that my life would revolve around him, but certainly never expected him to be so... tyrannical.

Don't let the bored expression fool you; he's just WAITING for me to burst into song so he can take me down.

Early in the morning/Risin' to the street

Days around here? They're long. Really long. Hank has been getting up at 4am and Johnny has been refusing to go to bed until 9pm. Plus I've been up all night with Hank ever since our trip to NM... but he's also teething AND sick, so all that together = an uncomfortable and therefore, pissed, baby. Both boys are sleep deprived and way touchier than normal, plus my patience is about the length of an eyelash at this point.

To be completely honest, it's been pretty miserable around here with everyone sick and refusing to sleep. However, in an attempt to look at the bright side through my weary bloodshot eyes, we do get an awful lot of family time now. What used to be the ungodly hour of 5am has now turned into a kind of nice family get-together.

Photo evidence:

This sharing-of-the-cereal happened for the first time this morning and may not happen again considering the amount of milk that ended up on John's pants... but at least I got some pictures of it.

Daylight Savings Time + Two babies = Seventh circle of hell

I used to look forward to the whole "fall back" thing. An extra hour of sleep? HELL YES! I'd go to sleep at the usual time only to wake up the next morning feeling more refreshed than I had in ages.

If you're a parent, you know that shiz is totally over.

Normally, Hank and Johnny wake up around 6:30am or so. After the time change? 5:30am. Except that Hank decided THAT WASN'T EARLY ENOUGH and woke up at 5am on Sunday. Granted, he was being sweet and adorable, so I didn't mind too much.

After that, it's all been downhill. Since Hank woke up so early that morning, he wanted to go to bed for the night at 4:30pm. Normally he's in bed between 6:30pm and 7:00pm. I wasn't about to let him go to bed that early only to wake up at 3:30am. So I kept him up and tried to get him to take an extra nap... which resulted in 20 minutes of extra sleep and two hours of extra screaming and crying. Now, Hank is an angel baby, so imagine my shock when he begins screaming at the top of his lungs around 5:30pm on Sunday... I thought he had Ebola or something. But no. No hemorrhagic fever, just overtiredness. He eventually went to sleep, but it was fitful at best, resulting in me getting up to soothe him every hour or so in the night. The next day he was grumpy, out-of-sorts and all around fussy from being so tired... and I was too. Johnny also hasn't been sleeping as much (also because the recent transition to his big boy bed) so his fuse was short.

I think we hit rock bottom yesterday afternoon when I took the humidifier away from Johnny and he had a meltdown from frustration and exhaustion. Johnny's cries woke up Hank, who then proceeded to scream and cry from frustration and exhaustion. And there I was, in the middle of it and feeling helpless, so I cried from frustration and exhaustion.

However, I think we're on the upswing. Hank has napped normally today and at his usual times while Johnny went down relatively easily for his nap and has been a good boy all day. Hopefully this means that Hank will sleep longer than 45 minute segments and go back to his normal happy self.

Daylight Savings Time: Suck it.

Breaking up is hard to do

Hank has lived in the ring sling these last (almost) 12 weeks. It's been great because it definitely allows more ventilation than any other carrier I own and Hank can curl up just the way he likes in it. The biggest (and only) downside is that it kills my back and shoulder. I normally wear the ring side, which is the load-bearing part, on my right shoulder to keep my right arm free while my left arm hits Hank's butt (he loves it, I promise). But now that he's heavier, that's a lot of weight to hang on my shoulder. So I decided to try out the Ergo, so named because it is ERGO-nomic. I figured it'd make my back feel a lot better.

15 minutes later...

The Ergo lasted a grand total of twenty minutes. Hank did fall asleep in it, but his little feet lost circulation because he likes to sleep with his feet together and his knees spread, which means his feet were caught in the waist belt... tightly. So he woke up.

A couple days ago, however, I tried out the Moby out of sheer desperation for some back pain relief.

And that worked out really well, except for the ridiculous amount of sweating I did. Even Hank was hotter than usual. Can you see the sheen of perspiration on his little brow in the picture above? So even though my back and shoulders felt a lot better, Hank and I were way hotter than usual. Which prompted a return to the ring sling. Oh well. Sooner or later he'll start spreading his legs more and the Ergo will serve. If not, the temperature is sure to dip below 90 degrees in a couple of months and I can rock the Moby. Or maybe he'll take naps in his crib. *gasp!*

Just wait.

I am so sick of hearing those two little words: Just wait.

When I was pregnant with Johnny and complaining about being tired since my pregnant body wouldn't let me get into a comfortable position, people said, "Just wait until that baby comes, THEN you'll be tired!"

When I managed to get down to my pre-pregnancy weight after only four months of having Johnny people said, "Just wait until you have your second baby! THEN we'll see how easy the weight comes off."

When I was talking about how mobile Johnny was when he learned to crawl and how fun it was, people said, "Just wait until he can walk! THEN we'll see how great you think it is."

When I was pregnant with Hank and complaining about being able to just sit down while taking care of Johnny (because he was a Nazi about people resting at all) people said, "Just wait until you have TWO babies! THEN we'll see how tired you are."

When I would tell people about how I wanted to go without pain meds for Hank's birth people said, "Just wait until you feel those labor pains! Then we'll see how fast you ask for those pain medications."

And a couple of days ago, while talking to another mother of two about how the first two months with two babies haven't been as bad as I was expecting, she said, "Oh, just wait! It'll get worse, I promise you."

I admit that I have said those two little words on occasion, but after that mother made her comment a couple of days ago, the negativity of them has finally clicked.

The people around me, strangers and friends alike, that I have talked to about anxieties, fears, complaints or even what I'm proud of have downplayed my emotions by telling me that my future is a black abyss of exhaustion and frustration. That the only good thing I have going for me is that this moment doesn't suck nearly as much is the next moment will.

I refuse to believe that.

So when the pregnant mom with her 15-month-old girl asked me what it is like to have two babies so close together, because she'll be there in two short months, I told her that it hasn't been as bad as everyone told me it would be. Yes, I'm tired, but it's not worse than the exhaustion I felt with the first one and it's outweighed by how much less your second baby cries because you know what you're doing. She walked away with a smile.

The next time you're about to tell someone, "just wait [insert snarky comment here]"... just don't. Say something positive, you'll feel better about it.

Has anyone else had that "just wait" thing thrown in their face?

Hank's SSN

For the first eight weeks of his life, Hank has been pretty much off the grid. As in, he doesn't have a social security number. While John and I are kind of tempted to keep it that way, we know it'll just be more of a hassle to get him one later in life when we sign him up for things like, oh, public school. So I'm doomed to play the government's game.

Unlike the hospital, at the birth center there isn't a person who does Social Security (SS from here on out, despite the fact that those initials have been taken previously by the Third Reich... I kind of think that's fitting considering what the Social Security Administration does, which is assign you a number so others can keep tabs on you) paperwork. Therefore, you have to go to the SS office yourself and apply for a number for your newborn after you get the birth certificate.

Last week, I picked up Hank's birth certificate and called the SS office to find out what I had to do to get a SSN for Hank. The automated message thing that I called was useless. It just said to bring a form of ID to the office and apply in person. So I packed up Johnny and Hank and headed to the closest SS office. I drove up and actually found a parking space in the teeny-tiny lot and got all excited because the parking lot fits, oh, maybe seven cars. "If there are only 7 people are here, I'll be in and out in a jiffy!" I said to myself.

I should have known better. This is a government office we're talking about.

I strapped Johnny into the stroller and put Hank in the ring sling, walked into the office. . . and looked around in dismay at the number of people waiting. All of the seats were taken and a good number of people were standing. However, I wasn't about to go through the rigamarole of putting kids back in the car without a SSN for Hank. So I got my number and then waited in line to check in.

And I waited. And waited. . . with my fussy newborn and irritated toddler. Finally I got to "check in". Mind you, this wasn't to actually get the SS number, it was to make sure that I was at the office for the correct reason.

This is my conversation at the check in window:

Me (handing over my numbered ticket and Hank's birth certificate): "I'm here to get a SSN for my newborn."

SS woman: "Okay. I need two forms of ID."

Me: "I have my driver's license and passport, will that work?"

SS woman: "Oh no, not for you. For your baby."

[shocked pause]

Me: "Really? He's only seven weeks old... what other ID does he have other than a birth certificate?"

SS woman: "Well, a shot record would work."

Me (frantically searching through all of the medical paperwork given to me at the birth center): "I don't have his shot record."

SS woman: "A certificate of live birth would work too. Or any kind of document with his name and birth date on it from the birth center will work."

Me: "None of these have his full name on them. They are just records of my labor and his birth written by the midwife, but none of them has his full name."

SS woman: "Then I can't help you. You need to bring a signed testimonial of live birth from your midwife. It can't be a copy, it has to be an original where you can see the pen marks."

Me: "So these 20 or so pages of records of birth and my labor along with the birth certificate aren't going to be enough?"

SS woman: "No."

Me: "[Insert choice swear word here]."

Really?!?!? TWO forms of ID for a NEWBORN?!?!?! He's been on this earth for seven weeks and he should, what? Have a driver's license? MAYBE you should put that in your automated phone service; you know, the one I called to make sure I had everything I needed? So irritating. Especially when SS is a joke anyway. Why do we need to jump through so many hoops so you can assign a number to my child to make sure that he'll be paying taxes? It seems that YOU should be jumping through the hoops for ME to make sure he gets a number. And don't you EVEN give me any crap about how it will pay off when he's 65 and gets his SS benefits because we all know that's a load of toddler poo. (Why toddler poo? Because I imagine that it stinks way more than bull poo.)

Rant over.

Summary: Social Security Administration? It blows.

Oil Change

When I was newly pregnant with Johnny, John and I bought a new car; a new Nissan Murano, to be exact. One of the bummers of buying a new car is that you are at their mercy in terms of warranty. In order for our warranty to be valid, I have to take the Murano in to the dealership for all maintenance and make sure that I get their special stamp in my little maintenance book. Now, this shouldn't be a big deal. Except that when you have to wait for two hours with two little ones just to get an oil change, it's a big deal. I HATE going to get scheduled maintenance on my car. Keeping Johnny entertained in a car dealership is hell. You know why? Because of all the pretty cars they have on display in the building. Remember how much Johnny likes cars? Yeah, all he wanted to do the entire time we were there was get in these shiny new cars and push all of the buttons... except that they were locked. So we played this conversation over and over again:

Johnny: "Car?"

Me: "Yes, that's a car."

Johnny: "In?"

Me: "No, we can't get in."

Johnny: pulling on the handle "Locked."

Me: "Yes, it's locked. They don't want people getting in their cars and messing with them."

Johnny: "Keys?"

Me: "No, I don't have the keys."

Johnny: "Keys?!"

Me: "I don't have the keys for this car, Johnny. I just have the keys for my car."

Johnny (beginning to melt down): "KEYS?!?!"

Me: I'm sorry Johnny, I don't have keys for that car. Let's go look at a different car."

Johnny: "Car?"

Over and over and over again.

Then one of the salesmen took pity on me after about an hour of this and helped me out:

This is Johnny in his new green Nissan XTerra... getting drool all over it.

I was so appreciative I wrote a thank you card for the salesmen and dropped it off later in the week. Thank you, Nissan salesman, for taking a few minutes to make my waiting so much easier. And F--- you Nissan service department for being so ridiculously slow!

Wrong side of the bed

I do enjoy being a mom to a toddler, I really do. And most days are great and those are mostly what I write about here. But not everyday is sunshine and rainbows. Some days are just downright ugly. Like two days ago. Johnny just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and was INCONSOLABLE all day long. He kept handing me toys and saying "Off?" in an attempt to get me to take them apart. Unfortunately, none of these toys came apart, which I told him. Then he'd say, "Please?" and would get all upset when I would deny him yet again. This is what a toddler meltdown looks like (with a baby fussing in the background... sorry about that):

Embedding isn't working again. :( Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TcnodEQGQA

Johnny was like this all. day. long. Granted, when I took this video, he hadn't had breakfast yet, but that's only because he refused to eat anything I offered him. He also decided that he wanted to be into anything and everything that we don't like him getting into... like the refrigerator. Now that he can open it, he wants to open it as much as possible. Most of the time, I tell him to close it and distract him with something else. That day? Not possible. He kept getting out the cheese and then refusing to have any when I opened it for him. I finally resorted to holding the doors shut and that resulted in another epic meltdown. Luckily, these days are few and far between for Johnny and I hope they will stay that way... at least until the "terrible twos," right?

C'est la vie

I guess many people would say that I am lucky since Johnny doesn't have separation anxiety and has never exhibited separation anxiety... with me. With Daddy, it's a COMPLETELY different story. If Johnny wakes up in the morning before John has left for work, he goes directly to the master bedroom to give Daddy a big hug (bypassing me, of course) and love on him. Once John leaves for work, it's meltdown time. If John has already left for work when Johnny gets up, we have to go through the whole house looking for Daddy. Once he finally believes that Daddy is at work, it's meltdown time. When John gets home from work, Johnny's little face lights up and he gets so excited. If Daddy goes anywhere, like the bathroom for instance, it's meltdown time. This same behavior is exhibited with both Grandma and (ESPECIALLY) Grandpa Durso. "Ma" and "Pa" are two of his favorite people for sure.

On the other hand, when Johnny and I are separated, it's no drama. For instance, when my mother-in-law comes over to watch Johnny during my prenatal appointment, he gets so excited to see "Ma" and jumps into her arms. Then he turns and looks at me and says "Bye!" Yes, Mommy is leaving, which he is pretty psyched about. Or if I come upstairs with his bottle while he and Daddy are getting ready for bed, Johnny will wave at me, say "bye!" and physically push me from the room.

I know that there are other people who get broken-hearted every time they have to leave their little one with a caretaker because of how their child reacts to their parent leaving... I have never had that heart-wrenching reaction to my child's cries for me as I walk out the door because there are no cries for me. I guess that means I'm lucky, but it also means I feel unloved a lot of the time. I know that if given the choice between me or Daddy, he will pick Daddy every time (which actually happened today), and sometimes that's hard for me to take.

Yes, I know, he's one-and-a-half years old and he's not trying to hurt my feelings, but, man, it's hard not to feel unappreciated when you have molded your entire life around your child's needs and wants and he puts you in last place. I guess that's what happens when you're a parent, right? You are the most important person in their lives, but they see you as the least important. I'll try not to expect that to change for the next 25 years or so.

36 weeks... and over it.

Well, I've hit that point. That point where I'm longing to be over and done with pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Johnny I never got to this point, probably because I was so freaked out about having a child (not the delivery part, the taking care of a newborn part). The killer is, since I've done this before, I know that in about three months I'll be wishing I had a nice round belly to sport instead of a squishy one. Alas.

Last time around was so easy! I ate whenever I needed to, exercised when I wanted, laid down when I felt like it... this time? Not so much. Eating isn't going so well considering I lost weight at my last appointment; this tends to be pretty normal in the first trimester, but kind of problematic in the third. Go figure. The problem? I have trouble finding time to eat. When I'm not chasing Johnny, fixing food for Johnny, putting Johnny down for a nap or playing with Johnny, I'm sitting or lying down because I'm so. freaking. tired. Not so much mentally, but definitely physically. I know this fatigue probably has a lot to do with not taking in enough calories, so I should fix that. And I'm working on it. My midwife told me not to even wait until I'm hungry and just eat every two hours. Set a phone alarm if necessary. High-protein snacks are the name of the game. Add that to all of the water I should be consuming, the milk I should be drinking, and the iron I need.

Otherwise, life is going pretty well. Johnny is being great for me by taking a nap every day and having a little independent play time in the morning and afternoon. Thank goodness he has so many toy trucks to occupy him. He's starting to be a little freaked out by my belly. Every time I lift up my shirt to expose it, he looks at it once then starts shaking his head and saying "nononononono". But he thinks my belly button is pretty awesome. As evidenced by him sticking his finger halfway into it in the picture below.

The impossibility of my pregnancy diet

 When you grow a human there are all kinds of things that you should be eating to help this human to grow and to keep you (the host) healthy. I'm finding that all of these "regulations" on my diet are impossible to meet every day because there are so many! See below:

1. Okay, as a pregnant woman in my 3rd trimester, I am supposed to be taking in at least 2600 calories a day. Which doesn't seem like a ridiculous amount of calories, but having an active toddler to look after and feed makes it difficult for me to feed myself that many calories in one day... that come from nutritious foods.

2. I should be consuming 2 eggs a day, which seems pretty easy, but unfortunately I can't handle the smell of cooking eggs. One of those pregnancy things. The only way I've been meeting this regulation is by making a bunch of deviled eggs and eating them throughout the week for breakfast. If I run out and don't get a chance to make more... well, I try to get a breakfast burrito or something but I just can't physically choke down scrambled eggs.

3. I am also supposed to be taking in 80 - 100 grams of protein a day. Granted, a lot of the things I like have protein, but they also require some preparation... which requires time which happens to be in short supply.

4. My midwife said that I'm slightly low on iron and need to up my iron intake, so I take an iron supplement in the morning and in the evening. She also told me to eat more iron-rich foods and to pair them with foods rich in vitamin C... not an easy thing to accomplish, actually. I do make a smoothie in the afternoon that contains oranges and spinach (among other things), I get in the occasional cup of nettle tea, and we've been trying to eat steak twice a week, which all sound great, right? Unfortunately, I have difficulty doing them every day, mostly because of regulation #5.

5. To make sure I'm providing enough calcium for my skeleton and my baby's, I have to drink at least three glasses of milk. Normally, this would be easy because I can drink milk like water, but guess what? Calcium inhibits iron absorption. So all of that iron I'm supposed to be having can't be consumed around the same time as my milk drinking.

Basically, it's impossible for me to make sure that I'm eating/drinking everything I should be to provide the best nutrition for myself and my baby (and to keep from risking out of birthing at my birth center). But I am trying! I get points for that, right?

OH THE SCREAMING!!!!!

Johnny has learned a completely obnoxious delightful new skill. Shrieking at the top of his lungs. I'm not talking about sweet, excited, happy shrieking that children will resort to in order to convey their pleasure at some game. No, I'm talking about WHY-CAN'T-I-HAVE-THAT-RIGHT-NOW-I-HATE-YOU-MOM kind of shrieking. There is no rhyme or reason for this screaming that I can figure out, he does it when he's happy or frustrated or bored or just downright pissed when he can't have his way. Initially, I tried to give him what he wanted to quell the screaming; for instance, if he was reaching for something on the counter, I would hand him each object in turn to figure out what he wanted. This did not help the screaming situation. Now, I just ignore him when I can. I've decided that worst thing I can do is give some kind of reaction to the screaming so that it is justified, right? Or maybe I just need to give up on that until he learns some words and can communicate more clearly... or something.

All I know is that he learned this horrific invaluable skill right before we have to take a 5 hour flight to the East Coast. Thank you, Johnny, your timing couldn't be worse.

I'm working on a video of the screaming just you can share in this terrible special experience.