Stuck Under a Baby

Tag: parenting

But, Oh, Oh, Those Summer Nights

I hate the winter. Sure, I love the holiday season and the twinkling of Christmas lights (which, by the way, I feel should be required to stay up until at least Presidents’ Day), but the whole getting dark at 4 o’clock thing really sucks. The day seems to be over so quickly, I want to be in my pajamas before I’ve even had dinner, and I feel as if I should be asleep by 6 pm. I hate the short winter days and long winter nights. Well, I did. Then I had children.

Oh, how I used to long for these summer nights. The sun setting after 9 pm, having dinner and drinks outside on a patio, going for walks, and basking in the glow of firefly lights. But now that I have kids, I am finding it harder to enjoy these summer nights. Our days are great – we’re playing, we’re learning, we’re enjoying our time together. Our nights, however, are much more challenging. At 7 pm, bathed and fed, my children want nothing more than to go back outside to play and get dirty in the garden or go for yet another bike ride. With the sun still shining so bright, it is hard to convince them that it is actually nearing bedtime.

Keeping the lights in the house low does nothing. Blackout curtains do nothing (the light still seems to find its way in). Using “The Force” to try and make the sun go down earlier does nothing. It has become next to impossible to get my kids to bed before 9 o’clock. Of course, this also does not mean that they sleep in the next morning. Oh, no. When the light peeks in through the “blackout” (yeah, right) curtains, they start tossing and turning. They may doze on and off for a while longer, but every stir reawakens me.

At 5:01 am, I lay there and pray that they will fall back asleep. At 5:38 am, I wonder why Bear needs to nurse again when she just did for the past half hour. At 5:59 am, I think that no one should have to be up this early. At 6:02 am, I debate whether or not I should get up and go to the bathroom, knowing that if I move an inch, I will wake someone under the age of five. At 6:42 am, I am thankful that Bear fell back asleep for almost another hour (and so did I, for part of it at least). At 6:58 am, knowing that both kids will be up for the day soon, I think how nice it would be if they each had a snooze button on their forehead. At 7:15 am, I try to ignore the fact that I am getting jumped on by one or two tiny creatures. At 7:16 am, someone lands on my bladder, making me rethink my 6:02 am decision. At 7:30 am, everyone is awake and I wish I hadn’t gone to bed at 2:00 am… again.

My point is, I guess, that I still love the summer – ice cream, beaches, carnivals, fresh fruits and veggies from our garden, and much more. But, I could really do without the daily bedtime battle. So, summer solstice, can you do me a favor and stay away for the next 10 years or so? Because if you keep this up much longer, I’m going to turn into a crazy lady who starts boarding up her windows come March. Much mahalos.

June 21, 2013
Dandelion Wishes

An essential part of being a kid is picking yellow dandelions and giving them to everyone you know. As a parent and former teacher, I have received my fair share of dandelion bouquets, worn dandelions in my hair, and even put dandelions in a vase full of water.

But the quintessential part of being a kid is picking the whitest, fluffiest dandelions you can find, making a wish, and blowing off every last possible seed (stomping on them is super fun too).

As a grownup, I now know the effects of making those wishes, as more and more dandelions sprout up all over our lawn. But, I still know the magic that lies within and don’t feel that I have the right to stand in the way of anyone’s wishes.

And so, my children pick their dandelions, both yellow and white. And so, I do my best to appreciate every bouquet, hair decoration, and centerpiece I am given. And so, I watch both in horror and in wonder as hundreds of new dandelion seeds take their journey in my backyard and beyond.

My neighbors must hate me.

May 5, 2013
Mommy Fail: Misadventures with Tomato Sauce

I’ve been a mom now for four years now. You would think that will all of this experience I would have learned one of the most basic rules of parenting: Never ever give your children spaghetti AFTER they have had their bath.

When you do, this is what happens:

And then this:

Duh.

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For more of Amy’s misadventures with tomato sauce, click here:

April 25, 2013
Mama Foofed!

My daughter, Bear, had quite a vocabulary by 17 months of age. At 17 1/2 months, she was trying to put two words together, but they were often separated by a very large pause as she tried to connect the two ideas in her head.

One evening a few weeks ago, I took Bear upstairs to put her to bed. I decided that it would be best to go to the bathroom before getting stuck under a baby for the next hour or so. I happened to, well, um, pass some gas, which my family has given the endearing term “foofing.” It wasn’t a remarkable foof (rhymes with hoof) or anything – just your average, every day, run of the mill foof.

Bear giggled. “Foof!” she exclaimed. And she laughed some more. “Mama!”

“Yes, honey, Mama foofed. Excuse me.”

“Foof… … … Mama… … … Mama… … … Foof… … … Foof… … … Mama… … … Foof.”

“Yes, Bear, Mama foofed.”

“Mama… Foof. Foof. Foof. Mama… Foof.”

“I know, love. Mama foofed.”

“Mama foof!”

Her first true sentence.

“Mama foof! Mama foof! Mama foof!”

“Yeah, I know. Mama foofed. That’s enough now. Time for bed.”

I brought her into the bedroom and began nursing her down for the night. She got drowsy and I thought that she was nearing sleep. All of a sudden, she popped off, sat up, and yelled, “MAMA FOOF!”

She was so proud.

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Note: Since that day, Bear has made sure to report everyone’s foofs – mine, her Papa’s, Monkey’s, and even her own. No one can escape. And it is now impossible to blame your foof on the baby. Perhaps we should reconsider getting a dog…

March 17, 2013
1,461 Days (A Letter To My Son on His Fourth Birthday)

My Dear Son,

For 1,461 days I have held your hand, carried you close, and stroked your hair.

For 1,461 days I have wiped away your tears, kissed your boo boos, wrestled with you, and tickled you until your belly ached.

For 1,461 days I have nursed you, nourished you, protected you, and bonded with you.

For 1,461 days I have watched you grow, learn, and develop your own unique personality.

For 1,461 days I have laughed with you, cried with you, and worried sick about you.

For 1,461 days I have cheered you on when you won and comforted you when you lost.

For 1,461 days I have watched you become more confident, develop a sense of humor, learn how to share and play well with others, and grow your imagination.

Photo on left: One minute old, February 18, 2009 / Photo on right: 4 years old, February 18, 2013

For 1,461 days I have pushed you to explore the world and have offered a warm lap and open arms when it was too much. For 1,461 days I have rocked you, walked with you, and driven you in circles just so you could get the rest you needed.

For 1,461 days I have cooked for you and re-cooked for you when you weren’t happy with the first selection.

For 1,461 days I have watched you crawl, walk, run, jump, hop, and ride a bicycle.

For 1,461 days I have slept by your side, listened to you breathe, and rested my hand on your beating heart.

For 1,461 days I have read to you, played with you, given you opportunities to investigate and make your own discoveries, and tried to empower you with knowledge.

For 1,461 days I have sung to you, made up stories for you, and listened to your every word.

For 1,461 days I have wished for you, prayed for you, and dreamed big dreams for you.

For 1,461 days I have loved you more and more.

For 1,461 days you have made my world… this world… a better place.

Happy fourth birthday, my darling boy.

Love,

-Mama

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February 20, 2013
Reflections on the Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting

Like so many others, I am baffled, horrified, grief-stricken, and angry at the events that took place at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday.

Tragic events like this often cause us to stop and take stock in our own lives. I did just that and realized that in the grand scheme of things:

Does it really matter that my son spilled a bowl of popcorn on the floor not soon after I finished vacuuming?

Does it really matter that my daughter caused an avalanche of books right after I put them all back on the shelf?

Does it really matter that both of my children knocked over piles of freshly folded laundry causing me to have to start all over again?

No. It doesn’t.

Yes, those things are annoying. Yes, they are time consuming. Yes, I would rather they didn’t happen.

But, I still get to hold my children. I still get to nurse them and wipe their noses and tend to their booboos. I still get to comfort them back to sleep and applaud their latest accomplishments. I still get to wrestle and tickle them and have early morning pillow fights with them. I still get to tuck them in at night, smother them with hugs and kisses, and tell them I love them.

Many others are not so lucky.

This school shooting hit very close to home for me. As a former elementary school teacher myself, I remember practicing our lock down drills – cramming 18-20 students into a small bathroom, crouching down in the dark, and trying to remain quiet and still. They were drills, nothing more. But they were scary. Many of the kids thought it was silly and fun and I would have to control their giggles. Many wondered why we had to go through this and looked concerned. I never liked these drills. My heart pounded each time and I would have to be calm and reassuring to the students while inside I was freaking out a bit. That being said, I’m still glad we did them. Knowing what to do in a situation like this is what helped save many lives at Sandy Hook Elementary. The teachers were prepared. They knew where to go and what to do and they did so calmly and in an orderly manner. And by doing this, they kept as many students as they could alive.

The hardest thing for me as a parent right now is that I tell my children that it is my job as their mommy to keep them safe. It is my job to protect them. It is my job to keep them out of danger.

But then, something like this happens, and that concept is shattered. If I’m not there, there is nothing I can do. It is then that we have to put our faith in others. We trust that those who care for our children will do whatever they can to keep them safe, to protect them, and to keep them out of danger.

Several teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary proved that on Friday.

So yes, hug your children. Hug them and squeeze them and love them and keep them safe.

Then, go hug a teacher.

December 16, 2012
Why We Need a Dog

I think we need a dog.

I love dogs, but I don’t want a dog… not now, anyway.

I don’t want to take care of a dog.

I don’t want to walk a dog, feed a dog, or clean up after a dog.

I JUST want a dog to clean my floor after dinner.

December 5, 2012
Musical Beds: Adventures in Co-Sleeping
We are a co-sleeping family. It’s completely wonderful and miserable at the same time. Long gone are the days of spooning with my husband. Long gone are the days of rolling over. Long gone are the days of getting up to pee without waking everyone else in the house.

I’ve seen many an image of moms and babes cuddled up in blissful slumber and oh so sweet photos of dads and toddlers all snuggled up peacefully dreaming together. In reality, in MY reality at least, it doesn’t usually look like that, especially since I have children who have never, in three and a half years, ever slept through the night.

At home, we have a king-sized bed with an adjacent unused toddler bed. Our nights usually end up with a few shifts in positions and snuggle partners; however, while visiting my in-laws this week, THIS is what happened. Warning: Do not try this at home.

The Game:

Musical Beds

The Playing Field:

One queen-sized bed
One twin-sized air mattress on the floor at the foot of the queen-sized bed

The Players:

Mama (Me)
Papa (My hubby)
Monkey (our 3.5 year old son)
Bear (our 1 year old daughter)

Round 1:

Mama and Bear in big bed.

Round 2:

Bear in big bed. (Mama in the bathroom.)
Papa and Monkey in little bed.

Round 3:

Papa and Bear in big bed.
Mama and Monkey in little bed.

Round 4:

Mama, Papa, and Bear in big bed.
Monkey in little bed.

Round 5:

Papa, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
Mama in little bed.

Round 6:

Papa and Monkey in big bed.
Mama and Bear in little bed.

Round 7:

Mama and Monkey in big bed.
Papa and Bear in little bed.

Round 8:

Mama, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
Papa in little bed.

Round 9:

Mama, Monkey, Bear, and Papa all in big bed – sleeping sideways with feet dangling off the end.

Needless to say, we were all exhausted the next day.

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October 13, 2012
They MIGHT Be Giants

I had this conversation with my toddler a while back:

Me: [singing] Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch / Who watches over you / Make a little birdhouse in your soul…

Him: Mama? Who’s singing this song?

Me: It’s a group called They Might Be Giants. The two main guys are named John and John. Isn’t that silly that they are both named John? Mama really likes their music. Your ABCs, 123s, and Science CDs are all by them too.

Him: Mama… are they really giants?

Me: No, honey. Mama has seen them in concert and they are regular sized… not giants.

Him: But, they might be!

Who could argue with that?

September 4, 2012
Yes, I Used My Son’s Potty!

I can’t believe I’m about to admit this. Some of you might think it’s hysterical. Some of you may think it’s gross. Some of you may have done it yourselves and many of you may have thought about it.

My kids sleep in the car – a lot. I drive around for hours a day getting my kids to nap. I swear, between the gas being used and my Dunkin’ Donuts addiction, my children must have the most expensive naps in the world! It’s a good thing I don’t have to pay for mileage!

Anyway, that’s not the part I’m embarrassed to admit. We went to the zoo the other day while on vacation at the shore. By the time we left, we were all exhausted and I couldn’t walk another step. I finally got my son to pee in his portable potty that we keep in the car (best thing ever). I got both kids strapped in to their car seats. Then, I realized that I had to go too. However, I just couldn’t make it across the parking lot to the restroom in the playground area. It was too much of a pain to unstrap both kids, too far of a walk for my tired feet, and too risky having the temptation of the playground right there. I was going to have to hold it. You would think that by now I would have learned my lesson, but it seems that I am a glutton for punishment.

I started the car and headed out of the zoo with the intention of going back to the beach house where I could borrow another adult to watch my kids while I ran in to use the facilities. But then, my husband called. Since I had the car, he had taken a bus to a town about 40 miles north of where we were. He was looking for his next bus to get to us. I told him the kids had just fallen asleep and I’d be driving around for the next two hours anyway, I might as well come pick him up.

So, I went in the opposite direction of the house. I went away from all the people who could help me. I went away from the nearest bathroom.

The more I thought about it, the more desperate I got. But as much as I needed to go, there was no way I was waking up my kids.

I often daydream about all of the businesses that should have drive-thrus when I’m driving around with my sleeping babies. At this moment, a drive-in bathroom stall seemed like a really good idea.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my saving grace… my son’s portable potty. No, I thought. I wouldn’t dare. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Should I? Could I? Do I dare?

I pulled into an unpopulated parking lot and stared at the thing. “You know you want to,” it seemed to say to me. It’s times like these that being a man would be so much easier.

I looked around. I was alone. No one would be the wiser.

I shimmied. I adjusted. I wiggled. I covered up. I peed. I sighed a sigh of sweet relief.

I put away and disposed of everything that needed to be put away and disposed of and I got back in the driver’s seat.

I giggled. No one would be the wiser.

August 28, 2012