The Nitty Gritty of Parenting

About 10 seconds after hitting "publish" on that last post...I sneezed. And, immediately, a myriad of fears began to swarm around in my mind. The utmost being a tie between: 1.) Did I wake Christopher up? and 2.) Am I getting sick?

Yes. And Yes.

My poor little guy coughed once and then just started CRYING. I ran into his room (because, Yes, I was worried....but also because I couldn't have him waking up Jacob. There's such a delicate balance to be struck around here when it comes to noise and bedtime.) and there he was. It was the saddest sight you've ever seen. Red face, watery eyes, snot all over his face. And sweating. I held him for a while thinking that I'd be able to get him settled back down. He didn't wrestle me on it either. He didn't even ask for his dad...so, of course, I was relishing the fact that he actually wanted ME. Unfortunately, after a few minutes, I could tell that something needed to be done. This critter needed some special care. So, I gave in and took him downstairs.

This is something that I never do. I've learned that if you take a boy out of his room during naptime or bedtime, there is NO GETTING HIM BACK IN. But this was a special case. I have never seen my little one in such a state.

The two of us traveled downstairs where Daddy was already setting up blankets and pillows on the floor and cueing up Christopher's favorite show on our On Demand. It was time for a Daddy and Christopher camp out on the cold, hard floor. Perfect for one....challenging for the other.

About half an hour later, after a proper dosing of tylenol, a few blows of the nose, and some family-wide temperature taking (I'm pleased to report that Haha was fever-free) Mommy headed back upstairs for a catnap before Jacob would be waking up. Naturally, I only left after taking advantage of the Kodak Moment that was occurring on my family room floor. Terrible, I know. I, for one, would do some SERIOUS PHYSICAL DAMAGE to any person attempting to take my picture if I were sick, but honestly? Kids are just SO. FREAKING. PRECIOUS. when they're all goopy and sick-like.

Jacob and I ended up sleeping pretty well that night. It wasn't until 2 am that his stirring roused me from my slumber, at which point I discovered that the other half of my bed was still empty. Having no idea what I'd encounter when I made the descent, I took care of Jakie and then headed down to investigate. About half way down the stairs, I discovered the sweetest sight: Tim, passed out on the couch (boy was I glad to see that he had transitioned from the hard floor to the couch) and Christopher all bundled up on the floor with a death grip on Haha and Blankie. Oh. And Caillou. Still singing along on the TV.

It is now three days later. Three days, two flu patients, three fever victims, and one Daddy who seems to have weathered the storm unscathed. And we're only one week into Fall.

Flu shot, anyone?

Sorry. I just don't care to figure out whether or not I used that big word correctly at this point in the evening.

First...some photos from Christopher's Birthday.

(They're supposed to come at the end but I'm too tired and too hot from holding a feverish toddler to try to figure it out.)

Christopher's b-day table cloth...year two.

Let them eat cake.

and....last but not least....

Who needs to hire a clown to creep out their kids when there are dead rodents to be seen?

Now, Down To Business...

Only one day into Fall and we seem to be ushering in the season with what promises to be a family-wide cold. Not good. It never fails that when someone around here starts up with the sniffles, I immediately try to figure out where in the world they came from. This time, there is little doubt that it was a gift given to us by our friends to whom we were delivering a birthday present on Monday afternoon. Both mommy and daughter were quite sniffly and red in the eyes, but honestly? this is nothing new for their family. Especially for the littlest: she of the nose that runs all over town. I swear that we were in their house for all of 15 minutes, and as a result, there is a little boy in the next room with a pasty white face, rose-red lips, and eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth that are all excreting various fluids. Joy. I'm not all that into fluids.

He's all snuggled up in his bed right now, blankie in one hand, sippy of water in the other. But he's not sleeping soundly. Every few minutes I hear a moan or a sniffle. A cough here and there. It really is the saddest thing when your little one is sick. Such a pathetic sight, isn't it? There's something so innocent...and so vulnerable....about a little tiny person sitting in his rocking chair with snot running down his face. And yet, today? Today we spent the majority of our time outside, running around, blowing bubbles, DUMPING THE ENTIRE BOTTLE OF BUBBLE SOLUTION INTO THE DRIVEWAY, jumping, giggling, playing with blocks, making Lego towers, and playing in the dirt. I'm fascinated by the dichotomy - children have no way of hiding that they are sick. It's obvious to the whole world. And yet they seem totally oblivious of the fact that they are supposed to "feel" sick. And adults? Honestly - you know what it's like. When we get sick, we're pumping our bodies full of this decongestant and that cough drop while laying in our beds WAITING TO DIE.

Yet another lesson to be learned from our children.

So anyway, I left sick child number one in his bed...only after smattering him with copious amounts of Vicks Baby Rub. (Side Note: this is one of my favorite things about winter. My child is ADDICTED to the Vicks. You want him to lie down for a diaper change? Offer him Vicks! Want him to stop cleaning out the window sills with your tooth brush? Pull out the Vicks! Hoping that he'll actually agree to wearing pajamas to bed? Vicks! All of that PLUS the fact that it makes him giggle like mad when you rub it on...that's the best part).

From there, I moved over to my room to settle baby #2 down to sleep. As I was sitting here, rocking my little one and observing how flushed his cheeks are and how much warmer his body is than usual, I began to get nervous. Two sick children (one of whom is only 4 months old) + mommy with a sore throat + daddy who, though he claims to have no symptoms yet, tends to pick up EVERYTHING = a scary prospect. And the realization that, especially when the rest of the family is sick, there is NO SUCH THING AS A SICK MOMMY...well, I began to get a little nervous. And, admittedly, a little ahead of myself.

That's when I happened upon tonight's episode of Jon & Kate Plus 8. In tonight's presentation, the Family Who Always Makes Me Feel Like A Wimp...um, I mean, "Better" was dealing with 8 kids who all had the flu. THE THROW UP FLU. I'll quit whining now.

***UPDATE: Christopher and Tim have now set up camp downstairs on the floor. Blankets, pillows, sippy, Blankie, Haha (curious George. Because monkeys say "who who haha"), a box of tissues, a wet wash cloth, and Caillou looped on repeat playing on the TV. The fever is climbing. And the boy is pulling on his ears. It promises to be a loooong night.***

I've Got You...Under My Skin....

Sarah Palin.
AWESOME. I am fascinated by this woman. She has renewed my excitement over this election. Which, honestly? Faded out about 2 years ago. Hasn't this been the longest, most drawn out, ridiculous presidential race in the history of the world!? Good grief. And just as I was counting down the days until it was all over, they introduce this MOM from Alaska with 5 kids, one of whom she's still breastfeeding. I am so intrigued by her and so excited to see where this election goes now. At this point, I choose not to weigh in on the whole "is she doing right by her family" argument that has popped up on some of the blogs. I struggle with it when I think too hard on the subject. I really do believe that a mommy's place is in the home...and yet I wonder if by taking this mommy out of her home the world might change. Even just a little. And wouldn't that be nice.

AIG. Lehman Brothers. And all those other guys.
Um...WHAT?! Aren't these investment bankers supposed to be, like, the smartest people in the world? How do you not see this all coming? More importantly, what does it mean when the stock market is in a steady nose dive, the investment banks are failing, and everyone is filing bankruptcy? And even worse...what does it mean when the guy who very well could be president is going to mess everyone's investments up even more by raising the capital gains tax to nearly 30%?! In the interest of full disclosure, I know nothing about this stuff. But I watch enough business news to know that things are NOT GOOD right now...and it seems like they're only going to get worse before they get better. Is it selfish to think that it's okay (at least a little bit okay) that the housing market is in the TANK because maybe this means it will be easier for us to buy a house. Am I trampling all over someone else's dreams with my own? I don't know. And does it even matter because the entire economy is in the tank anyway?

.......

Not too exciting today, I know. More to come. Next time: The big 2nd birthday. And the surprise visitor we had at the park!

Legos. Seriously? The BEST TOY EVER.

Christopher is going to be two (TWO!) in about a week and a half, and all I can think is, "how in the world did THAT happen?"

Two is totally different than one. One is so exciting. So special. So emotional. So running into the bedroom first thing in the morning to capture the birthday wake up photo (which, by the way, I think I'll do every year. That will make for a rather sweet photo collection, I think.) Two is exciting too, but just different. In our house, Two is looking like this:

2.) Laughing when he falls down because he thinks it's so funny, getting up, wiping off, and moving on.
2.) Giving mom strangle-hugs during Mass, pulling her hair over her face, and then cackling himself crazy as she dashes out the back door of the church to make sure that no one is bothered.
2.) Finding no need for actual words because who needs to talk when you can point and say "heh?"
2.) Legos.
2.) Shoes that light up when you stomp. And jump. And hop.
2.) Walking up and down the stairs without holding on to anything.
2.) Coloring. On the windows.
2.) Watching Nina and Star on Sprout and doing everything they tell him to do without hesitation. (If only Nina could move in...)
2.) Talking on your own terms...not when Mom or Dad are forcing you to say something.
2.) Parents (especially Dad) who are very concerned about the lack of talking.
2.) A doctor appointment right around the corner when we're finally going to have to address the issue of the MMR shot...and hoping we have enough verbal communication by then to not have to worry.
2.) When mom is singing a song, repeating "Mom. Mom. Momma. Mom. Mooom." until she stops singing. Is someone trying to send me a message?
2.) Stomping and crying and whining when something is taken away. Or when he can't have a cranberry. Or a grape. Or an apple. OR WHATEVER HE'S POINTING TO IN THE FRUIT DRAWER IN ANY GIVEN MOMENT.
2.)Laying on his tummy in the bathtub.
2.) Splashing.
2.) Doing river dance in the tub (only when holding mommy's hands, of course)
2.) Going peepee in the potty (sometimes) and telling us when he's going poopoo....I figure this is a start, right?
2.) Sitting on my lap and letting me sing him to sleep (the only time when he doesn't force me to stop singing....and yes, this does mean that we've gotten back on track with the sleeping. This, of course, is just in time for my mom to come next week and for him to get all off-track again.)
2.) Kissing Yaya night-night when we pretend to put Jake to bed (because babies have to go to bed first) so that Christopher won't be jealous of Jakie's late-night privileges.
2.) Kissing his own boo-boos.
2.) Asking for the boo-boo-baaaa (boo boo spray) when he scrapes his hand.
2.) Collecting rocks and leaving them in the little nooks and crannies of our house for us to find.
2.) Hiding behind furniture and then jumping and squealing and totally CRACKING UP when he's found.

Sigh. The list goes on. The boy is growing up, and he's getting cuter and more fun with every passing day. This, I think, is what makes Two so great. Each day brings him further from babyhood and closer into boyhood. Son-hood. Buddy-hood.

And boy do I love my little buddy.

I'll bet you didn't know that turkeys have tender loins...

...but they DO! And they're delicious. At least the ones I cooked as part of last night's food network style dinner sure were. So, alas, the menu: turkey tenderloin, roasted baby gold potatoes, sauteed green beans, and homemade garlic spread on sourdough rolls.

mmmmm. Iron Chef, here I come.

Now down to business. Who stole my precious little angel and replaced him with the little tantrum-monger who is currently sleeping (thank GOD) in the next room? Honestly. I would like to know. Call me please and we'll negotiate a drop off point.

Good heavens. Here we are, barrelling toward age two at lightning speed when all of a sudden we bypassed the next three weeks and landed smack in the middle of the terrible twos.

Terrible. Awful. Screamy. Loud. Whiny. Stompy. Jumping up and down and sobbing. Refusing a bath. Refusing jammies. Trying to pull off the diaper. (I can't tell you how many times a day I hear the phrase, "Please take your hands out of your pants" coming out of m mouth.) Turning himself into a limp, wet noodle when we try to pick him up. Demanding. Opening the fridge. Not giving in. Testing every boundary. Screaming himself to sleep. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming! SOMEONE STOP THE SCREAMING!

This behavior has only been going on for about one week and I find myself already wondering where, exactly, my whit ends. Sometimes, it's actually funny. The screaming and the drama are so extreme that you just have to sit back and wonder what exactly is going on in that cute little head. I've learned already that being patient is the key to it all. Letting him scream it out usually only takes a minute or two before he's standing there with his eyes closed trying to figure out if he's ready to move on with his life. Usually he is, and we're both giggling in no time.

The hard part, though, is bed time. He's just going going going all the time, right? And life is too fun to have to stop and spend the night in Crib Prison. The screaming and crying that comes from his room is absolutely heartbreaking. Sure, it only lasts about 10 minutes, but he's just so SAD. He just wants his MOOMMMMIIIIEEEEE!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! WAHHHHHHH! DADDIIEEEEE!!!!!! And for those ten minutes, even though you know he's just testing you, even though you know he'll be asleep in no time, you feel like the worst mommy in the world for neglecting your precious little angel.

The other night he got himself so riled up that I honestly thought he was going to make himself sick. So in I went to find this little person standing inside his crib, shaking because he was so upset. I sat him in his chair and read to him for a while before he gave me the "mommy pick me up" signal. He was so tired. And so clingy. There we stood in the middle of his room, singing songs and swaying back and forth, his little hands clinging to my shirt as though I was about to melt away from underneath him. I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT.

Finally, he lifted his head and said, "Momma, poopoos." So I laid him down on his changing table, did a mock diaper change for him, and rubbed his forehead while we talked about how he is the big brother and how he needs to teach Yaya how to sleep in his big boy bed. We talked about how I know it's no fun that Yaya gets to sleep in Mama's room and Christopher doesn't, and about how soon Yaya will be sleeping in his own room next door to Christopher. We talked and talked and talked. And you know what?

HE FELL ASLEEP. ON THE CHANGING TABLE.

I would have stood there with him all night if I could have. My precious boy. My sleeping angel. I wish we could do that every night.

So I don't know. Maybe it's time to mix things up a little. Maybe we should adjust his crib to toddler bed stage so that we can lay next to him and he can feel more like a big boy (although, the late night wandering is keeping me from doing that at this point). Maybe we should just continue to pump him full of Tylenol to offset the pain of those (SLOWLY) emerging two year molars. Maybe we should call supernanny (which, honestly? that woman is a GENIUS....and most of those parents are complete DOLTS.)

It's hard being almost-two. That's really all there is to say.

On the plus side:
1. Christopher peed in the big boy potty two nights ago.
2. Jacob sleeps from 9pm until 7am. 8 nights in a row. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ave Maria!

I love Holy Days of Obligation. I always have. Even before my life as a grown up who has studied and taken a sincere, educated interest in her Faith, Holy Days have always held a sort of mystique. Stepping outside of your normal routine of regular life during the week and Mass on Sundays really forces you to pay attention, you know? This, of course, makes me wonder about those who attend daily Mass. Do the Holy Days offer something different to these Faithful? For me, no matter how frequently I would attend Mass, these days always stood out as special. They were a time to really focus, to really celebrate our Faith.

There was a time in my life when I was far more frequent a Mass attendee. That remarkable period where I was so totally immersed in Catholic Culture that the peer pressure I was subjected to centered around going to Mass. Or Adoration. Or Confession. A time when I was the recipient of other peoples' efforts to bring my Faith to life.

Those were the days. I often reflect on how easy it was back then. How my four years on top of the hill were, faith-wise, the easiest I've ever had. True, they were years of tremendous growth. Of stretching. And, in that regard, came along with their own challenges. But everything I needed was available to me - whether I wanted it on any given day or not. Honestly, when else can you go to confession to a multitude of priests EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK? Where else can you pop in for Adoration at any time of the day or night on any day of the year? (Those people who can do this? SO. LUCKY.) Boy oh boy. It was so easy. And I didn't even realize it.

My current life still has me immersed in Catholic Culture, but now it's just different. I'm no longer the recipient of other peoples' efforts to create that culture. Now I find that I am the creator of that culture. I now live in a world where, if daily Mass is going to be available, it's becuase I'm motivating the family (okay, myself) to get ready in the mornings. In this world, if my kids are going to understand the extreme privilege of visiting Our Lord in Adoration, it's because I'm the one making the house call. Fostering a love for Our Blessed Mother comes as a result of my loving my children the way that she loved her own Son. Encouraging daily prayer will not come as a result of my prodding, "Did you say your prayers?" Rather, it will develop out of giving my entire family the gift of praying together....and teaching them to respect the fact that sometimes, we need to go into our rooms and take some time alone...just us and Jesus.

Naturally, I am blessed in that the responsibility does not lie with me alone. My boys have a phenomenal, faith-filled dad who takes such a keen interest in practicing his faith. He recognizes that, in order to be a full participant in the Faith, one must study and truly understand it. He is the head of the household, both literally and metaphorically. He directs us well, and he educates us well. Often, though, I will find myself frustrated when Tim reminds me that "we need to be praying more. We need to be praying the Rosary." This is always true, but I admit that sometimes my back goes up when I hear that direction. Rather than humbly thinking, "he's right. We do need to be praying more," my thoughts will sometimes turn to, "he is the head of the family. It's one thing to say we need to be praying more and completely another thing to make sure we DO it."

Not surprisingly, Our Lady always seems to provide the gentle reminder that I need (and it's always immediate.) I can practically hear her whispering in my ear, "but you are the mother. You are the HEART of the family." And I sheepishly remember that she is right. His job is to direct and to guide. My job is to give that gentle nudge into action. By allowing the head and the heart to work together, we're providing that organic combination that is creating our own Catholic Culture right here in our very own home.

That is the lesson that I've taken out of this most beautiful solemnity. On this day that we almost forgot to go to Mass because we've been so distracted with other things. On this day that I spent the entire homily seeing to the needs of my little ones rather than soaking in any little bit of the homily. On this day that I didn't even talk to Our Blessed Mother even once (not even to say, "help!" which is a frequent conversation that we share), I've learned that Mary's path to holiness was through her "yes" to motherhood and everything that entails.

So lies mine.

Things I LOVE

...warm, squishy, sleeping babies who have a drop of milk rolling down their cheeks.

...almost two year old little boys who climb and run and jump and go down big boy slides backwards without any help from their mommy whatsoever.

...pretending to have my own food network show while I'm cooking dinner.

...having friends nearby who I can laugh so hard with that we both start to cry.

...getting compassionate, understanding, loving emails from my dad when I least expect it.

...knowing that, regardless of how hard life gets, I have my best friend by my side. Always.

...shoes that light up when my little boy jumps. and stomps. and just walks.

...that every time we walk to the play structure at church, Christopher mandates a stop at the mural of our Lady of Guadalupe, sits down, makes the sign of the cross, and waits for me to pray a Hail Mary with him.

...hearing the church bells, right now, as they chime the Salve Regina.

...the peace that comes from knowing that we have our entire lives ahead of us and that it's okay if things aren't PERFECT this very instant.

...sitting with our 4-year old little friend on the park bench and listening to her while she shares her anxiety over her baby brother coming to live with them from South Korea.

...the fact that my friends are adopting this precious little one, and that he'll be here SOON!

...novenas. And friends who willingly pray them when you ask.

...an entire day with no temper tantrums. Well. From the toddler, at least.

...dancing with Christopher.

...good emails that are moving us forward with starting the business.

...precious friends, who, although I haven't spoken to them in a while, are always there to listen, love, and pray.