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Cole Family & Friends Mothering

Back to Reality

While writing my post yesterday, about my Mother’s Day, I realized that I had actually gotten about 7 hours of sleep the night before, with Ryan spending the night at my dad’s, and Joe getting up with Cole, and then sleeping in.  It wasn’t uninterrupted, mind you- but I’ll take what I can get.

It was the most I have slept since before Ryan was born, and wondered what special sleep fairy was smiling on me, in that I was able to sleep for so long yesterday.

Last night, as I was going to bed, shortly before midnight- Ryan woke up.  He has been sleeping through the nights really well now, for about 2 months.  He was crying, whining, and restless.  Nothing was wrong with him, other than he couldn’t sleep.  I tried everything, and nothing was working.  I let him lay on the couch, and around 2am, he *finally* fell asleep.

Then I heard the noise that I am coming to dread- one that makes me feel like I have drank 6 cups of coffee and shoots adrenaline into my system- Cole crying.

Ever since day one with him, whenever he cries, it has that reaction on me.  I have gotten to where I have such a hard time falling asleep, because I *know* just when I get in that deep, restful, REM sleep, his crying will jolt me out of it.  Quite frankly, it is easier for me to stay up and wait for it, than it is to sleep and then try to groggily wake up and deal with Cole. 

A while ago my friend, Amy, put a challenge on her blog for venturing out of our “blog safety zone”, and putting yourself ‘out there.’  At the time, I didn’t really have anything that I was inspired to write, but as I was trying to get Cole back to sleep last night, inspiration hit me, so to speak.

I love Cole dearly, but sometimes I am just exhausted, overwhelmed, and simply at a loss on what to do for him.  Nothing ever works the same way for him two nights in a row.  Some nights when he wakes up, he wants to nurse, and then go back to sleep.  Then the next night, he wants his back patted, then the next night he won’t settle down unless he gets a snack, and then the next night he’ll sleep for 6 hours straight, and so on. 

I have lost count how many nights at 3am I am up with him crying, because I don’t understand why he won’t sleep, and why I can’t seem to solve this problem with him. I know it has taken a toll on myself and in those very, very, dark moments, I wish sometimes that he would just go away. 

Before having Cole, I could never understand why some people were led to shake a baby, but after Cole I totally understand it.  When hour after hour goes by and *nothing* will get the baby quiet, I can understand how someone could “lose it,” or make a bad split second decision.  I am ashamed to say that I have been on the brink of wanting to shake Cole to get him to be quiet, but never crossed that line.  I tell myself it will be OK in the morning and that gets me through the night.

Last night after  Cole woke up at 2 am, and after trying to nurse him, and sleep with him, he was restless, squirmy, and just not going to sleep.  I finally got up with him at 5am, when Joe’s alarm went off.  I fed him some breakfast, and stayed up with him until 6:30, until he seemed tired enough to fall back asleep.  He finally did, and then I fell asleep until 7:30 when Ryan woke up.  I realized that I got up at 10:30 yesterday, and didn’t get to sleep until 6:30 this morning- I was up for 20 hours, and got one hour of sleep.

 I should be dead on my feet- I should be exhausted.  But no, I hopped out of bed like I had just slept 10 hours, got the boys dressed, made breakfast, did a load of laundry, dropped Ryan off at Joe’s parent’s house, went grocery shopping, did errands, went to Target (where Cole had a complete, screaming, ear shattering melt-down), which didn’t even phase me, made Cole lunch, put the groceries away, did more laundry, dozed with Cole for an hour, and then vacuumed and cleaned up the house.  After dinner, I went on an hour walk, and I am STILL not tired.

I don’t know what has happened to me, it is like I am losing my need or ability to sleep.  Even if I went to sleep now, I know Cole will be waking up, but don’t know when.  It could be in 10 minutes or two hours.  Do I risk going to sleep, only to be jolted awake, or just stay up?  It seems like I have less patience with him, when I have been sleeping and he wakes me up, than if I am already awake. 

The funny thing is I don’t even really care anymore.  I have just resigned myself to the fact that this is how it is going to be for awhile with Cole.  On a good night, I get 4 hours of sleep, and on a bad night, one hour.  I just have to laugh at the days before kids, when if I didn’t have 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, I was a zombie.  I didn’t know how good I had it back then.

I know it won’t always be like this, but it is so hard to go through this night, after night, and then try to be productive during the day.  I fear by the time Cole does grow out of this, my body will be so messed up from not sleeping, I am just going to have a permanent case of insomnia. 

I wrote yesterday how much I loved being a mom, and I do.  But it is also hard, thankless, and drop-dead tiring.  Some times I hate it and wonder what is going to get me through the night?  Sometimes I wonder will I get through the night?  Will I ever sleep again?  How can a little baby, whom I love so much, frustrate me to the extreme level that he does? 

No one ever told me being a mother was easy, and I don’t expect it to.  After getting a little break for one day though, and getting some rest, I wonder why I can’t catch these little breaks more often?  Maybe it is the bad times that make you appreciate the good.

Cole just started crying, so I’m off.  Maybe I’ll get one of those breaks, and he’ll go back to sleep fairly quickly tonight. 

  ****************************************************

 TUESDAY

I wrote this last night (Monday) and didn’t have a chance to post it as Cole started to cry.  No breaks last night- it was another terrible night.  Cole screamed, and screamed and would not be consoled-again.  That woke up Ryan and Joe.  I absolutely could do nothing to calm him, so finally at 2 am Joe, Ryan, and I hung out in Ryan’s room, and let Cole cry it out.  Yes, I said, cry it out.  I normally don’t believe in it, and even wrote a post about about not doing it, a while ago.

Nothing we were doing for Cole was working.  It almost seemed like he needed to cry, and work it out.  It was so hard listening to him cry, but in the state we were in, it was the only thing left to do.  As I sat on the floor, next to Ryan’s bed, I thought about how many times I cry and I do feel better after it.  I also thought about what I had just written, and how close I have gotten to ‘losing’ it with Cole, and realized he was safe in his crib, and this is what we needed to do to get through the night.

Cole will be one year old in a week, and it seems like his sleep problems are getting worse, not better.  I think he does understand that when we leave, we do come back, and there was a night light in our room, so in the end, I feel like one night of crying it out, isn’t going to do permanent damage to him.

Is it a tool I want to use every night?  No.  Did it work last night? Yes.  After 30 minutes, he fell asleep and stayed asleep until 6, when he wanted to nurse.  He immediately fell asleep in my arms, and when he woke up at 7:30 to get up, he gave me a big smile and he was in a really good mood today.

One mantra that I tell myself as a mother is “never say never.”  That seems to be my one consistant I can count on- whenever I think or decide a certain course I want to take with my children, it doesn’t always work out that way.  In the long run, the only thing that is consistant is change. 

Crying it out wouldn’t have worked for Cole when he was a newborn, or even a few months ago, but in order to be a good mother for him and for me, I have to consider the possibility that at times, maybe he just needs to cry, and work out whatever it is for himself, during those times that nothing *we* do works for him. 

Sometimes I want to be left alone, not be touched, and have a good cry  Is it totally unreasonable to think that my baby would never want those things either?  I have thought not- all these months I have concluded that he wants to be held all the time, and wants to be close to me, etc.  What if all this time he just wanted and needed his own space?

The only thing that is clear to me, is that I just don’t know. I don’t know if this was just a one-night fix, or not.  All I can do is keep trying the best I can, and follow Cole’s cues.  I like what my sister told me a few days ago, regarding something else, when I felt like I was a ‘bad’ mom, for not having shot enough video of Cole’s first year.  She said, “that doesn’t make you a bad mom, it makes you a normal mom.”  For now, normal is good.

Categories
Activities Cole Family & Friends Mothering Ryan

My Special Day(s)

I had a terrific Mother’s Day Weekend. Yesterday, (Saturday), Joe got up with Ryan and Cole, and made waffles with them.  I got to sleep in for about an extra half hour.

After the boys woke up from their afternoon nap, we headed down to my dad’s house, for Ryan’s big sleep over.  We nearly avoided ANOTHER car accident- one block away from our house, a teen-aged boy dashed out in front of the car on his bike, obviously trying to ‘beat’ the car across in the middle of the street.  Joe hit the breaks, and started again, when another kid, out of no where started to do the same thing.  Joe instantly slammed the breaks on, and the kid on the bike did the same thing, stopping about 1 foot from the car. 

Joe and I were both so mad, we just glared at the kid.  He said, “sorry” and then muttered something like he was going to stop.  I wanted to ask, “when, when you crashed into the hood of the car?”  He was doing something so stupid, and was lucky he didn’t get hit.  The sudden, hard, breaking scared Ryan and he started crying, and screaming.  We had to calm him down, and after a few minutes we were on our way again.

We made it to my dad’s with no more excitement (thank goodness).  We got the boys settled with some dinner, and then Joe and I were off to dinner.  Cole started to cry, and I felt bad leaving him, but we figured he would start to eat his dinner, and stop crying after a few minutes.

We ate at a grill in a neighborhood, about 10 minutes away from my dad’s house.  It was a really nice atmosphere- not too loud, or too quiet.  I ordered blackened flank steak salad, with blue cheese crumbles and blue cheese dressing, and a fuzzy navel.  Joe ordered mushroom beef stroganoff, and a beer. 

We had a great time, just enjoying each other’s company and some uninterrupted conversation.   We ordered a slice of fudge chocolate cake to go for dessert.  We ended up staying about an hour and a half, and figured we had better get back; we both had a feeling that Cole would be crying.

We arrived back at my dad’s to find Ryan eating a s’more that they made in the back yard fireplace, and as expected, Cole crying.  Dad said he pretty much cried the entire time.  Cole saw me, sniffled, I nursed him, and after about 5 minutes, he popped off, smiling, and ready to play- the little munchkin.

My dad’s wife had pretty much been entertaining Ryan, since Dad had been trying to calm Cole, and Ryan was playing Thomas trains, and watching a Thomas video.  Dad blew up an air mattress for Ryan to sleep on, and then he and Cole jumped on it for about 20 minutes, until it was time for us to go.

Ryan barely kissed me goodbye- he was so anxious for us to leave.  He told me if I missed my big boy, (refering to himself) then I could hug Coley. 

Cole fell asleep five minutes into the ride home, and about half way home, I got this very strong urge to hug Ryan.  I realized this was the farthest he had ever been away from me, and I him, and I had to fight back tears.  I knew he was safe, but it still hurt knowing I couldn’t be near him.

When we got home, I changed a very tired and half-asleep Cole into his pj’s, and he nursed for a few minutes, and then went right back to sleep in his crib.  I guess all that crying, wore him out.

Then Joe and I watched TV, while he gave me a foot and calf massage (ahh…)

This morning, Joe and Cole got up around 8, when Cole woke up, and Joe left me to sleep in again.  When they came back and woke me up, it was 9, and Cole wanted to nurse.  The next time I woke up, it was 10, and then I dozed off again, until 10:30!  I have not slept in that late since before Ryan was born.  I guess after 3 1/2 years, a girl is entitled to sleep that late.  🙂

I laid a sleeping Cole down next to a sleeping Joe, and got up, made some coffee and called my Dad.  He said Ryan did fine- they all went to bed about 10:30, and they all woke up at 8, and Ryan had slept like a rock.  I talked to Ryan for a few minutes on the phone, and he told me Grandpa had made him waffles this morning.  Ryan sounded so different and grown-up on the phone.  It made me realize he really is a little boy now, getting bigger every day.  My dad said he’d bring Ryan home after lunch.

A few minutes later, Joe and Cole came down stairs, and we ate a light breakfast.  Cole played and hung out with Dad, and he seemed like a different baby.  He was so content, and wasn’t crying for me every few minutes, like he normally does.  I am not sure why- maybe he liked the one-on-one attention he was getting from us, or maybe he could actually focus on something longer than a few seconds, before Ryan usually comes over to him, to see what he is doing. It made us wonder if maybe Cole isn’t getting enough attention from us, so I am going to try to start devoting 10 or 15 minutes in the morning to some exclusive time with him.

Joe hung up my information board, and I got our schedules written down for the week.  After I got Cole down for his nap, I got the rest of the flowers planted for our front yard, and then my darling boy was home.

He came and hugged me for a minute, and then wanted to go ride his scooter.  He told me again, Grandpa made him waffles in the toaster.  After Grandpa left, Dad and Ryan cleaned out the garage, and did some yard work, and I got to dink around on the computer, and organize some of my pictures.

When Cole woke up, we went and got some dinner at a noodle place.  We took a little drive to the country, and then came home, gave the boys a bath, and put them to bed.  As I was nursing Cole to sleep, Ryan came in and hugged me, and whispered, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.”  It was so sweet, and I felt very appreciated and loved by my family. 

I can’t believe that four Mother’s Day’s have passed already.  Here are a few pictures from my first three:

          pictures-056.jpg  My very first Mother’s Day- 2004 (Ryan was 4 months)

          pictures-055.jpg   Mother’s Day-2005 (Ryan was 16 months)

            md.jpg   Mother’s Day-2006 (Ryan was 28 months, and I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with Cole)

I hope all the mother’s out there had a wonderful day.  We work so hard all year, it is nice to have our special day.  🙂

Categories
Activities Family & Friends Mothering Ryan

Happy Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day on Sunday!  This will be my fourth “official” Mother’s Day- (fifth if you count when I was pregnant with Ryan). Joe and I are going to head down to my dad’s (about 50 miles away), to drop the boys off for a few hours, and we are going to go out to dinner!  We figured it will be less crowded tomorrow night than on Sunday, and plus Ryan is going to spend the night for the first time with this grandparent!  He is SO excited.  I just hope he doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night and want me, because we aren’t just down the road.  He is very comfortable with my dad though, so I don’t anticipate any problems. 

I love being a mother more than I ever dreamed, and it is truly one of the greatest gifts I could have ever received. 

Here is an essay by Anna Quindlen that I read a few years ago.  I read it every Mother’s Day- to remind me- to take it easy, not to stress too much, and simply enjoy my dear, sweet boys.  I hope you like her essay too, and I hope everyone has a special day, no matter how you choose to spend it. 

On Being a Mom
by Anna Quindlen
If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the black button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin.

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past. Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations –what they taught me was that they couldn’t really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout.

One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton’s wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did-Hall-of-Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, “What did you get wrong?” (She insisted I included that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald’s drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I included that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I’m not sure what worked and what didn’t, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That’s what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.  

Categories
Breastfeeding Mothering Ryan

Dr. Seuss For Nursing Mothers

Today I saw this posted on a parenting board that I belong to, and I really liked it, especially since Green Eggs & Ham, is one of Ryan’s favorite books. 

It appears the author is unknown, but it did appear June 9, 2006 in Mothering under -Breastfeeding by Barb (and she stated she didn’t know who the author was).  Hope you get a smile out of it.  🙂

DR. SEUSS FOR NURSING MOTHERS
Would you nurse her in the park?
Would you nurse him in the dark?
Would you nurse him with a Boppy?
And when your b00b are feeling floppy?
 
I would nurse him in the park,
I would nurse her in the dark.
I’d nurse with or without a Boppy.
Floppy b00b will never stop me.
 
Can you nurse with your seat belt on?
Can you nurse from dusk till dawn?
Though she may pinch me, bite me, pull,
I will nurse her `till she’s full!
 
Can you nurse and make some soup?
Can you nurse and feed the group?
It makes her healthy strong and smart,
Mommy’s milk is the best start!
 
Would you nurse him at the game?
Would you nurse her in the rain?
In front of those who dare complain?
I would nurse him at the game.
I would nurse her in the rain.
 
As for those who protest lactation,
I have the perfect explanation.
Mommy’s milk is tailor made
It’s the perfect food, you need no aid.
 
Some may scoff and some may wriggle,
Avert their eyes or even giggle.
To those who can be cruel and rude,
Remind them breast’s the perfect food!
 
I would never scoff or giggle,
Roll my eyes or even wiggle!
I would not be so crass or crude,
I KNOW that this milk’s the perfect food!
 
We make the amount we need
The perfect temp for every feed.
There’s no compare to milk from breast-
The perfect food, above the rest.
 

Those sweet nursing smiles are oh so sweet,
Mommy’s milk is such a treat.
Human milk just can’t be beat.

I will nurse, in any case,
On the street or in your face.
I will not let my baby cry,
I’ll meet her needs, I’ll always try.
It’s not about what’s good for you,
It’s best for babies, through and through.
 
I will nurse her in my home,
I will nurse her when I roam.
Leave me be lads and ma’am.
I will nurse her, Mom I am.

Categories
Cole Fun Stuff Mothering Ryan

It’s Slinky, It’s Slinky

Ryan got his first Slinky for Easter.  He wasn’t that thrilled with it, but the other day, I needed something to keep him occupied for a few minutes, and tried to get him interested in the slinky again, to no avail.

Cole, on the other hand, came right over to it and was very interested.  I don’t know where or how my brain remembered the Slinky song from the commercial when I was a little girl, but I just started singing it, without missing a word, like I had heard the song yesterday.  How’s that for a good advertising jingle?

Ryan laughed, and LOVED the song.  All of a sudden he wanted to play with Slinky, and now he had to wait until Cole was done.  As soon as Cole was finished playing with it, Ryan went over and picked it up, and insisted that I keep singing the Slinky song.  So I obliged, and now he loves the Slinky, and sings the song too, while he is playing with it. 

I swear, I haven’t heard the song since I was probably about 10, but tonight I looked it up on good old You Tube, and found the Slinky commercial and the song that I remember from the 70’s.  It was pretty funny to see it again after all these years.  Check it out if you have a minute.

It is pretty amazing the things that get stored away in your brain.  Sadly for me, it isn’t some deep thought, or mathamatical equation- It’s Slinky, It’s Slinky.