Lost time is never found again. Unless I write about it.

I have had a blog post in my head for over a month. I'm in a love/hate relationship with this thing because on one hand, it is an important record for me that I know I will one day appreciate. On the other, the juxtaposition of the quantity and quality of entries from the start of Norah's life and those from Nolan's is stark and I feel like that might be interpreted as indicative of my feelings for each of my kids. But it's not. It's indicative of time. There is so little time in a month that these entries have to wait in my head. And then sometimes I lose them. That's the biggest tragedy of all. Moments worthy of capture, moments that illustrate our life at a time when my kids are too young to remember them themselves, moments that I feel like I have been trusted with are lost. To not have enough time in your life to process and store these moments-- if not in paper, at least in your head-- is a very sad thing. I know this because my brain cannot recall most of Norah's first year of life, but when I sit down to reread what was written, I am able to feel those feelings again. For Nolan, they are being lost forever because I have no time. Heck-- we don't even take pictures anymore.

So, Nolan, if you are reading this one day and feeling bitter about the supporting role in which you have been cast, at least according to my blog, please know not to question my love for you, but rather question what the heck we were doing with our time. And I will answer you:

After four months of rooming with my folks, we finally got possession of our "new green house" (how Norah continues to refer to this place) on January 20th. We moved in on Norah's 3rd birthday. Norah got to spend the day with her cousin, Syd, and we were able to get a little settled. That night, we had our family birthday celebration for her at a restaurant. The food was cold, but the guests were perfect.

Norah's celebration with her friends had been the week before at a gymnastics place. The kids climbed and ran and swung and tumbled. It was a great time. My favourite part was that there were no gifts and nobody noticed. I can't say that I think it will go as easily next year, but for at least one year, it was not about materialism. It was about fun.

The week we moved in was a VERY big week for Nolan. Not only did he get his very own room that didn't double as a den, but he also started attending daycare, crawling (at 10 months. I was not prepared for this. I'm still not), and talking. "Uh-oh" was his first utterance used consistently and appropriately. I wonder what it might foreshadow...

As for daycare? He loves it. LOVES it. Maybe even more than home. Scratch the maybe. If one of those women could nurse him, he would never want to leave. We thought he might have made some headway in the bottle department in the first week, but there has only been one day in the entire month and a half he has been there that he has drank 5 oz in a day. Most days, it's just 1 or 2. So when I pick him up, he is THIRSTY and I am an oasis. He has also resumed using nursing as his sleep-crutch. I have no idea how we are going to wean this kid. I am trying to book a time for surgery (three impacted wisdom teeth), but once I do, the date will be set. A week of anesthesia and pain killers mean NO MORE BOOB. Implications for Mom and Dad? NO MORE SLEEP.

Besides being anxious about that process, I spend most of my time with him trying to save him from himself. This kid leads with his head and as a crawling 11 month old with only one month experience, that is not a good thing. He has two permanent bruises on each side of his forehead and if he didn't have hair, I'm sure we'd see one smack dab in the middle of the back of his head. He has this crazy habit of throwing himself backward for no apparent reason and with nothing behind him to catch him. We've stopped making helmet jokes because it's getting to be a serious consideration. With his desire to walk more and more apparent, it might be a reality sooner than later.

In spite of the head injuries, he is growing and learning like crazy. Where at this time in Norah's life I had nothing but time for "learning activities" like Name that Part of My Face and, you know, reading books (a heck of a lot easier with a sedentary kid), sometimes I forget to engage Nolan in activities other than Keep Your Fingers Out of There or No Eating! Yucky!. Norah, however is all about teaching him. The other day, she took out the shape sorter and showed him where the circle went. She handed him the shape and he replicated it with no error. Can you say "Developmental Readiness" (slash "Neglectful Parents")? The other day, he was playing with the phone while I was changing his diaper. I asked, "Who are you calling?" and he breathily replied, "Pah-Pah." Later when he saw my dad on Skype, he said it again, "Pah-Pah!" and when I say his name, Nolan goes to the door to see if he is there. Who cares about Mama and Dada and Norah? Papa's the one he loves best (aside from Grandma, but the G is just too hard to pronounce).

As for nutrition, Nolan eats just about anything. Norah has started to resist green things, which is troubling. We try not to pick fights, and simply insist that she taste everything. The problem is, that unlike many kids this age, Norah is actually hungry and can't live on air. So, if she doesn't like what has been presented to her, she needs an alternative. Not a habit I am interested in instilling, so we are currently trying to come up with a balance of offerings that won't mean me leaving my supper to cool to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Have I really gotten this far into an entry without bringing up the "S" word? Sleep. How I miss it. Nolan wakes 2 times each night, once before midnight and once after. Sometimes C is able to soothe him, sometimes not. While we had him sleep trained for what feels like 5 minutes, and he continues to put himself to sleep for his naps on the weekend, he has demonstrated his adamant opposition to self-soothing (what an ironic term that is for us) at night. If we left him, he would cry for two hours or more every night and with the new data about the affects of cortisol on the brain, I am not willing to engage in that experiment. Plus, now he can sit/stand in bed if we leave him. Again, I am at a total loss for what to do and REALLY hoping that the Wait it Out Method (trademark 2009) we discovered in Norah's first year works.

Norah has good nights and bad. At her request, we just removed the second rail from her bed (we got rid of the first when we moved in here). Last night she begged me to put them back on, but it was just a ploy to stay up later. It's been two nights and she has not fallen out of the bed, although the removal of the barrier has occurred psychologically as well and now she gets out of bed on her own, both in the morning and, like last night, at 2 a.m.

While the nightwakings suck, what adds to it is the fact that no matter what we do, Norah's bedtime routine inevitably takes upwards of 45 minutes. Between puffer and potty and stories and songs, it is like the routine that won't die. Without it, though, we end up with a kid in total melt-down. In addition, Nolan requires one of us to bounce/rock/nurse him to sleep, in a process that usually takes 20-30 minutes. All of this comes after the supper battle, which follows the hour long trip it takes me to leave work, get Norah, feed Nolan, dress them both, and drive home from daycare. By the time they are asleep, I barely have enough energy for a conversation, never mind cleaning or marking or reading for my class anything else on my list.

Oh yes, I am in my second Master's class and while I had expected to work on it slowly, defending in 2014, plans have changed. I had an idea for my thesis that my adviser agreed to and now the plan is to take another class in May/June (2 nights a week), and my fourth in July (three weeks of all morning), and my Directed Reading in the fall while I collect my data. While it will be great to be done all that by Christmas, leaving just my thesis to write in 2013, it is going to be stressful getting there.

Complicating matters is that fact that, at present, I am the first preference for both kids. Nolan, who follows his stomach, gets very concerned whenever I am more than 3 feet away from him and launches into the most annoying "ENH! ENH! ENH!" diatribe whenever I try to get anything done or leave the house. Norah, who clearly sees Nolan's dependency on me, has waged an intermittent and unpredictable War on Boys, randomly declaring, "I don't like you Nolan/Daddy!" and insisting that I be the one who helps her get dressed/assists her on the potty/gets her ready for bed/buckles her in the car/tells her the bedtime story/goes to her in the night/comes to her when she wakes.

In summary, here is my life:

6:45 Wake up.
Get ready.
Get kids ready (C does most of this, but I help them into the car)
7:40 Go to work.
8:00-5:00 Teach/Prep/Mark/Read/Write.
5:00 Pick up kids.
5:40 Leave for home.
6:00 Supper (or go to my night class)
7:30-8:00 Begin bedtime routine with one or both children.
9:00/9:30/10:00 (depending on the night) Complete bedtime routine.
10:00-10:30 or 11:00 Watch a television show to decompress.
Sleep (if I'm lucky)
Wake.
Sleep.
Wake.
Lie awake.
Sleep.
Wake.
Repeat.

Thank goodness I have a husband who is willing to take the domestic role while I work on my degree. Having supper ready, cleaning, going to kids in the night-- at any other time, that would have been pure luxury. Now, it is pure necessity, but I don't appreciate it any less.

And I can't just complain. My kids are so adorable. They make me laugh and make me feel like the most special woman in the world. They are healthy (oh yes, Norah will be having her adenoids and tonsils out in 6-8 months, which should help with her sleep apnea and other disruptions) and so are we. I love my job and am at a very excited point in my professional development. In short, I have everything... except time. But that will come eventually, and then you can listen to me complain about having too much of it... if you're still reading this in 20 years.

Speaking of no time, I don't have any to revise this, so forgive any mistakes, repetition, or awkwardness. Thanks for taking the time to read it!

How We Spent Our Christmas Vacation

Although this was Norah's 3rd Christmas, it felt a lot like our first. It was the first year she had a concept of Santa and all other things Yuletide. Playing it up became a new favourite past time. It began in early December. We had been prepping her with some chronological markers that went something like this: first comes snow, then comes Santa, then comes your birthday, then comes the new house. On the first day it snowed, she literally squealed with excitement and then asked, "Where's Santa?" Um... about a month away, honey. To distract her, we went outside and followed tracks in the snow, trying to uncover their creator. Ironically, the sled I used to pull Nolan created tracks that perplexed and worried my father for a couple days before he thought to ask.

The improvised, customized stories we tell her multiple times a day became centred around the guy in red being in trouble and Norah coming to the rescue. She was also introduced to Rudolph. Not long after, on a dark, December morning as she and C pulled out of my parent's driveway, the headlights shone on two deer. "Reindeer!" Norah exclaimed. C stopped, turned around, and they got a close look at the deer for a good 30 seconds before they made their way into the brush. The magic that this time of year creates was palpable.

Next came sussing out what she wanted Santa to bring. When she was first asked, she would simply name whatever was around at the time, "More crayons." But one day, C noticed a list up at daycare; Woody was all it said. Apparently Toy Story was the feature film on Movie Friday and, even though most of them were too young to "get it," Norah and all her friends were obsessed. The list grew to include a puzzle (she is a whiz at puzzles) and a doll house "with little dolls." I knew I wanted to get her a Leap Frog toy to help with her letters and numbers as she is pretty preoccupied with them as of late. A little online ordering and Christmas was taken care of.

Wait! What about Nolan? Talk about the kid who has everything! But it wouldn't be Christmas if he had nothing to unwrap, so we decided Santa would bring him a ride on car with a ball under the seat that played music when he bounced.

In early December, Nolan and I took a short trip to Victoria to visit Auntie Kim and Auntie Jena. Nolan handled the first flight like a pro, in spite of being seated next to a less-than-impressed-inebriated gentleman who, at the end of the flight, accused me of drugging my baby to get him to be so well behaved. Unfortunately, our first flight was late, causing us to miss our second, and we were subsequently rerouted onto two more flights. The second flight was less than stellar (as it coincided with bedtime and Nolan refuses to sleep anywhere but a crib), but it was mitigated by the fact that we were seated next to a father of six. By the third flight, Nolan had caught another wind and spent the whole time charming the older woman next to us. Once in Victoria, our primary objective was shopping. I picked up some Rocky Mountain Soap Company stocking-stuffers and some new clothes for C, and only a couple items for myself. Over all, the trip was not as restful as we had hoped, as Nolan was under the weather and quickly learned that Mommy and milk were keeping 7/11's hours and he could tank up whenever he liked. He woke 4-5 times a night for 30-60 minutes each time. Fortunately, C was able to get some rest at home with Norah.

When we returned home, I had one epic day of Christmas baking and the sugarfest commenced. The season, combined with living at Grandma and Papa's and the guilt associated with my kids' lives being out of whack have led to the demise of Norah's good eating habits. Every night, she asks for "something different" and wants to check the "covered" to see what she wants to eat. Christmas baking quickly became currency used in bribes for vegetable consumption. I keep telling myself that once we are back in our own place with our own routine, things will get better, but even I know it's going to take a lot of work..

Back to the Christmas cheer. On the 23rd, my brother and his family departed on a ski vacation, and we jumped at the chance to house/dog-sit. For six lovely days, we got a taste of what it would be like to have our own space again. Norah felt like such a big girl, sleeping in her cousin's new loft bed, and there were more than enough toys to keep her busy and distract her until Christmas day. Nolan was just pleased to have a change of scenery.

Christmas Eve arrived. During the day, we visited Auntie N, Uncle D, and cousins V and E. It had been a long time since we last saw them and Norah was so excited for the visit and gift exchange. Nolan just wanted to snuggle with Auntie, who has been one of his favourite people from the start. That night, after a supper of ham, scalloped potatoes and "candied yams" (sweet potato casserole that Norah will eat only because there's sugar on it and we don't refer to it as potatoes) we excitedly left cookies for Santa and carrots and apples for the Reindeer. We wrote a note, thanking Santa in advance and indicating who the cookies were for. Norah was sawing logs by 7:30, which was perfect, because we still had wrapping to do. Norah slept until 7:00 the next morning. Unfortunately, Nolan was up much earlier. When Norah awoke, we led her to the kitchen where she saw that Santa had eaten most of his cookies, and the Reindeer had their fill as well. She wasn't interested in the note Santa had left. She drank a yogurt drink and headed for the presents. I was nervous because Santa had explained in his note that he wasn't able to fit all her gifts in his sled and that he had asked someone special to bring her what she was hoping for. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice Woody's absence right away.

When we did read the note, she was very proud to learn that, "When Rudolph ate the carrots and apples, his nose shone even brighter"-- a fact she keeps repeating to this day. It wasn't long before Norah's other Uncle R, Auntie L, and cousin S arrived and Grandma and Papa weren't far behind. We ate a delicious brunch and opened even more presents (including Woody, yay!). The weather was so beautiful that afternoon, that C took the kids to the park where Norah demonstrated her new found ability to pump on the swing and where her brother enjoyed his first ever ride in a swing himself. Norah loved pushing him even though on the back swing he would knock her over every other time. It was leftovers for supper that night, and a reasonable bedtime for all. It was nice, but I missed the turkey.

Boxing Day more than made up for it, with both sides of C's family having traditional turkey at lunch and supper respectively. Between feeding Nolan and engaging Norah in play with her extended cousins, with whom she is quite shy, I hardly got to say hello to the adults at lunch. The food was good, but I had to eat and run as Nolan was due for a nap. After a drive around town, I came back and picked up the other two. We ran "home" to mix up a quick salad to bring to supper (Norah was irate that her playtime had been cut short and wanted to get to Great Grandma's NOW to continue playing with V and E). Norah and Nolan were thrilled to receive matching hippo winter hats from The Purple Hippo (whose owner happens to be C's cousin). In fact, I can expect more than a few of her friends to be donning them before the season is over, as it is her go-to gift now. Our stay there was a little less rushed, though we had to skip dessert to get the kids home in time for bed.

The rest of our days in the city were filled with playdates and errand running during the day, and movies (or at least parts of them) after the kids went to sleep. We all seem to have brought back germs with us, as each of us has taken our turn with fevers and head colds, but hopefully we are all on the mend at this point. While our house won't be ready as soon as we had hoped, we are still excited for our possession and the wait will only make it that much sweeter.

Like the weather, this holiday season has been mild-- taking the time to enjoy it through the eyes of our kid made it so much easier to avoid the trap of rush-rush-rush we had become accustomed to in the past. Now time to write my "New Year's" letter...

So... what have we been up to the past two months?

Well...

In October, we packed up and moved in with my parents. It sounds pretty simple when I say it like that. It wasn't. It was a hectic week of Mom stopping by after work to lug totes of clothes and other things we just couldn't live without back to her place, 45 minutes out of the city. It was a crazy weekend of trucks being loaded and unloaded, me trying to make our space here functional, and C back in the city madly trying to pack the remainder of our belongings in time for the movers on Tuesday. It was touch and go for a while when they came-- C even called to order another container to be dropped off as we didn't think it was going to fit in the one we had, but the guys we hired worked miracles and squeezed it all in.

Moving was not a fun process, but the purging that was involved was cathartic. Starting fresh is a feeling that I like. Unfortunately, in this case, there is a kind of purgatory in between.

But purgatory could be worse than having a space as large as the main floor of our old house essentially to ourselves. And our landlords could be worse. C might have a few words about the commute, but we've made due. I take Nolan into the city a couple times a week to buy groceries, run errands, or visit with some other moms/babies who happen to be at home. Days we stay out here are sometimes hard to fill, though I can usually conjure a reason to head to the Co-op. I have cooked almost every night and now that my class is over, I'm pretty much a domestic goddess (I don't want to brag, but I even made my bed three times this week). Norah will stay home more often, now that I am not using naps to conduct literature reviews or put together presentations.

This past Monday was the last class of the semester for my grad class. I can't believe how natural it feels to be back at it or how efficient a student I am now that I don't have all the time in the world. I am pleased with the caliber of work I produced and excited to be knee deep into the process. I am still not settled on a topic for my thesis, but hopefully heading back to work this coming semester will help to inspire me.

Oh yes, I had intended to go back at the semester change, but a slight delay on the Fresh Start front has changed that. Instead, I will make sure we have at least two weeks in the new place before I jump back in. Not ideal, but better than then me trying to commute 45 minutes with a 10 month old and a three year old, while completing a grad class, working full time, and then trying to settle into a new house.

Nolan has continued to grow on the same trajectory. I am not going to even hazard a guess at his height or weight, but he is bigger than a lot of kids twice his age. He is eating solids fairly well. I started him on purees when he was just over 6 months, but a few weeks ago, I switched to a Baby Led Weaning approach, which has made for some messy entertainment. I'm hoping we can avoid having another Magic-Bullet kid in the house. So far, his gag reflex appears to be a lot less jumpy than Norah's was. His sleep has been a roller coaster of success and failure. Because of our present living arrangement, we try hard to keep our children quiet when others are sleeping (which can be as early as 7:30 at this house). This means we are running to both kids at the slightest peep. It goes without saying that this has led to some pretty brutal sleep habits. Nolan will go through phases where he is up every two hours and Norah has had a few beauts where she has decided that being awake from 2 a.m.-5a.m. is appropriate. We use nights when my Dad is out of town to re-sleep train them and ride out the benefits as long as we can. Tonight, Nolan didn't cry a single minute before drifting off to sleep. Let's hope there's more of that in the future.

Norah refuses to nap for us any longer. If we don't throw her in the car at some point in the afternoons on weekends, we end up running an insane asylum from noon to 8:00 (or 9 or 10). Being bested by a toddler is not the best feeling in the world.

That said, each of them provides us with enough moments that really are the best to make up for it. Nolan's laugh comes so easily. Just press your nose into his chin or "scare" him when he's expecting it, and he'll bust a gut. Norah loves to dance and sing and make-believe (Or be me, mummy. I be mummy, k? Norwah! Come here, Norwah! Time for bed!). Her life is a constant performance where we can see the wheels turning (is THIS how I be... a girl?... a BIG girl?... a good girl? ... a friend? ... a big sister? ... is THIS how I... show that I'm angry? ... get what I want? ... make them laugh?). We all have a pretty good time most days, though with the long commute and rough night times, there has been more than enough frustration here lately to last us a lifetime. I'm glad that Christmas break is coming soon to give us a breather before the home-stretch to our Fresh Start.

That's all I have in me tonight. I'll try again soon. Thanks for still reading!

The Sleep Train

Last night was my second night class of the semester. Yes, I am back at the university working toward my Masters in Education (Curriculum and Instruction). When I initially considered this move, I took for granted that Nolan would be taking a bottle at this point. Boy, was I wrong. We have tried everything, to no avail (on that note, if you are interested in a variety of nine different nipple/bottle styles, I can hook you up). This has increased my momxiety about school immensely.

The first week went well. I fed Nolan right before I left and my mother came to help out. She got Norah into bed while C soothed Nolan to sleep. I made it home before he needed to eat again.

This week was... not so great. Nolan had a weird day for naps and, based on his own tendencies, would be ready for bed between 6:00-7:30. This seemed ideal, though out od routine. My mom came by again, much to Norah's delight. They played downstairs while C tried to settle Nolan. Nolan slept for 30 minutes, but then began to transition. He often likes to nurse through this sleep stage. Without the boob readily available, he ended up in this state of sleep limbo where he was too tired to fully wake, but too agitated to settle into sleep. C did everything he could to soothe him, but the crying began and didn't let up.

To make matters worse, Norah decided she was not interested in bed. My mother did her best, but with no sign of Norah giving in and a 45 minute drive in rainy conditions ahead of her, C sent her home. With two screaming kids, he somehow managed to call upon Norah's big sister instincts and calm her by asking her to help make the baby feel better. It did nothing for Nolan. but when C left her room to try to soothe him again, she stayed in bed and went to sleep.

When I pulled into the driveway, a bouncing silhouette was in the window. I dashed in and started nursing Nolan to soothe him. After 20 minutes, he was calm, but fully awake. Needless to say, the idea of 11 more weeks of this was undesirable for all parties concerned. Did I mention that in less than a month we are moving to my parents' place 45 minutes away to wait for our house to be built? Instead of being away from 6:00-9:30, I will be gone from 5:15-10:15. Oy.

This led to a discussion about sleep training. As you may recall, we sleep trained Norah quite early because of her colic. While I know for a fact it was the best decision for her, I have resisted it with Nolan so far. He is fairly easy to get to sleep-- we just have to work at keeping him that way. He is such a happy, social kid, that the idea of leaving him to cry wasn't sitting well with me (whereas Norah cried whether we were holding her or not). However, C made some compelling arguments as to why learning to sleep on his own now would be beneficial-- having evenings to pack instead of holding a baby, Being able to put him down for naps so I can keep Norah home more often, his sanity on Monday nights, etc.. To break the tie, I consulted our Sleep Bible- The 90 Minute Baby Sleep Program. It discussed how 6-8 months is the optimal window for sleep training (babies are mature enough to self-soothe, but still adaptable enough to change habits without too much fuss). It discussed Cry-It-Out (CIO) and No Cry methods, both of which we were familiar with, but it was a nice refresher.

After our reading, we decided to try a hybrid approach. We would soothe him until his eyes were closing, and then instead of swaddling, we would put him to sleep on his stomach, rubbing his back until he fell asleep, so long as it didn't just stimulate him more. We had used this sleep position with Norah and had success, as had a friend of mine who suggested it earlier that day. Just to be sure I googled stomach sleeping and confirmed that once babies can roll onto their tummies, many sleep that way without issue.

When he started to fuss, C took him into his room, put him in his sleep bag, and bounced. His eyes closed soon after, but he was still "singing" his grumpy song. I was skeptical that putting him down at this point was a good idea, but C went for it. He rubbed Nolan's back for a minute. Nolan fussed on and off, but started snoring soon after. I had to stifle a laugh.

We went to his room and watched him on the monitor, waiting for the screams. While he did lift his head and moan a bit, he quickly returned to sleep, and remained that way until 4 am. We discovered at his waking that his preference was actually to be in more of a 3/4 side position, rather than fully on his tummy.

Because of our prior experiences, we dared not dream of such an outcome-- and while I realize that this will not be the end of the process as teeth (oh! I almost forgot! Nolan cut his first tooth on the weekend!), and illness, and travel, and special occasions, and growth spurts, and immunizations, and changes of season all interfere with our progress-- I am hopeful for the sleep future of my child, and my personal sanity being restored (if only temporarily).

Woohoo!

Bedtime Blues

You might be thinking, "Another post about sleep? Really? Why don't you give it a rest?" or maybe you're not into cheeky puns... regardless, yes, this is another post about sleep. Well, not sleep so much as bedtime.

Over the past two and a half odd years, sleep has become a sensitive subject in my house. Our success or failure as parents was measured by the number of hours we and our child(ren) were getting. The first year (okay, year and a half) was mostly failure. Since then, however, I feel like we win more than we lose-- even with an infant in the house. On a nightly basis, though, I often finish the bedtime routine feeling defeated, in spite of the fact that both the kids are sleeping.

Here's why:


7:15: Norah completing her supper at a snail's pace.

7:20: I take Nolan to feed him before Chris would put him to sleep for the night.

7:30: Norah, still at the dinner table, announces "I POOPED! I POOPED!" and I hear Chris rush her to the bathroom only to discover she has not, in fact, pooped, but merely has to poop. (If you are ever in a crowded room with my child and she yells "FIRE!" don't panic. Just take the matches away. She was only thinking of starting one).

7:40: I pass Nolan to Chris. Having hoped to squeeze a bath in before Norah went to bed, but recognizing the extended meal-time and10 minute potty break have complicated that desire, I concede that battle and instead embark upon bedtime routine.

7:50: Hands washed, teeth brushed, pants-less, Norah is monkeying around and refusing to cooperate. I go to cut out a construction paper star (aka Norah's Special Star) that Norah will tape onto another piece of construction paper holding one special star from each night she goes to sleep "like a big girl." Let's be clear: She gets the star before she actually goes to sleep and we don't take them away even if she doesn't cooperate because the one time Chris tried that it was like we needed an exorcist. In spite of this flaw in our system, they work pretty well. She now has 16 stars and I would say she legitimately earned 13 of them.

8:00: After allowing her to stick her special star onto her special paper, I am able to convince her to continue with the routine. Puffer and gummies completed, donning her pyjamas, Norah demands that we read a book (we had moved away from reading books right before bed, telling her a customized--and usually didactic-- tale instead). Going against my better judgement, I agree to diverge from routine and read a book. I lift her up to choose one and say, "Which book?" to which she responds, "No. Two books." to which I respond, "No. One book." to which she retorts, "No. Two books. One for you and one for me." to which I retort, "I do not need a book." but she insists, "Two books! One for you and one for me!" So I say, "One book or zero books." She smiles happily, "Zero books." "Fine." I say, putting her on her bed. Confused she cries, "NO! ZERO BOOKS!" She does not know what zero means. "Zero means none, Norah." She cries harder. "Pick one book!" I say, exasperated. She picks a dumb Spot book with flaps and reads it herself.

8:15: I turn on her white noise, tell her to climb to her pillow, turn out her lights, and climb into bed with her. "Who will be in your story tonight?" "A BIG MAD GIANT." I commence a story about a big mad giant who doesn't do anything his parents say, including going to bed. This turns out to be a big mistake. In spite of nearly drifting into sleep several times throughout the story, I manage to string together a coherent plot in which the giant sees the error of his ways and learns that doing what his parents say is actually best (yes. I propagandize my child in this way and I am not ashamed to say it. It usually works. Usually.).

8:25: Norah demands another story even though this has never been a part of the routine. I stand firm. "No, Norah. It is time to go to sleep." She begins to wig out. I give her several opportunities to stop crying, but to no avail. I leave. Norah gets out of bed and opens her door screaming, "I WANT TO WAKE UP! I WANT TO WAKE UP! I WANT TO BE WAKE!" Behaviour the likes of which we have not seen since before she was two. I go back in and put her on her bed. Only after she repeats, "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED!" about six times in a row do I realize that she has become the main character of my aforementioned story. Apparently she didn't catch the ending. Me: "Norah! Are you being the big mad giant?" Norah: (crying immediately ceases) "Yes." Apparently she's a method actor. Me: "Norah, I am going to tell you another story." Norah: "Another story?! You already told me big giant story!" She laughs. Me: "Let's be clear: you are not getting this story because you cried. Crying does not get you what you want. You are getting this story because Mommy made a big mistake telling you that giant story." Norah: "Okay Mom."

8:30: I tell Norah the story of her special stars and how they follow her from our red house to Grandma and Papa's and then to our new house to sing her to sleep.

8:35: After completing the story, Norah demands, "Stay six minutes." "Okay. I will stay six minutes." "No. Lots of minutes." "Fine. Lots of minutes." "And six minutes." "Only if you try to go to sleep." After lots of minutes of adjusting her blankets, reminding her to close her eyes, and her breathing finally relaxing, I sit up to leave the bed. I kiss her and she gives me a noogie. "I mess up your hair!" she cackles. "Norah," I say firmly, "I say, 'Goodnight, Norah. I love you.' Norah says...." "I love you, too." "Okay, have a good sleep." She goes to sleep.

8:45: I leave her room. I go close Nolan's blinds and arrange his bed for sleep. I go downstairs to inform C of my completed mission. He is ready to put Nolan in his crib. He follows me up the stairs, me turning out lights as I go so that they don't wake the boy. C puts him down and closes his door.

9:05: After a short visit, C goes to buy a car-seat for Nolan-- an errand that would have taken too long when the kids were awake. I go change laundry loads and fold the dry stuff while watching Ellen, which I have pvr'd.

9:30: I sit down to write this blog.

9:45: C returns with ice-cream. We each eat some. I return to typing in here.

10:20: Nolan wakes and C goes in to soothe him.

10:25: Nolan is not pleased. I go in to feed him back to sleep.

10:50: I put Nolan in his crib and return to writing this post.

Both of my kids will sleep between 10-12 hours tonight. I will likely get 5 or 6 (mostly because my insomniac tendencies have returned since I decided to go back to school). On a relative scale involving households with two children, one of whom is less than 6 months old, this is amazing, but I can't help but feel spent. Every night this week has looked similar-- lengthy productions to get the kids to sleep. There are nights when I leave Norah's bedroom only to be greeted by Nolan's cries for comfort and without a break end up spending over two hours just trying to get each of them dreaming.

On one hand, I feel bad complaining. There will come a time when I will have to sneak into their rooms when they are not around to try to get a sense of what is going on in their lives, when instead of calling my name, they will call their friends or significant others to help them deal with problems, when hugs and snuggles will be distant, rose-coloured memories (only for me, mind you. My kids will have no recollection of this beautiful struggle)... I will long for this then.

On the other, an evening to myself or... gasp! Out with friends would be amazing-- rejuvenating even. Heck, even just a night where bedtime was a one-act-play rather than a full-length opera would be nice. Is short and sweet too much to ask?

Probably. I guess I will have to settle for using this post as fodder for a guilt trip in the future.

Momxiety

mom-x-i-e-ty [mom-zahy-i-tee]
noun, plural -ties

1. distress or uneasiness caused by fear relating to anything to do with one's children or the act of child-rearing. Characterized by a knot in one's stomach and irrational thoughts including but not limited to visualizations of worst-case-scenarios.

I came up with this portmanteau when I was facebooking the other day. Figured I better have something more substantial to prove my coinership (ooooh- there's another one!)

Now that we have the definition out of the way, here are the things that cause me momxiety:

1. Not being home for nap time.
2. Breastfeeding in public when I am alone.
3. My child waking prematurely from a nap.
4. Accidentally parenting my daughter into a vapid stereotype of a female.
5. Accidentally parenting my son into an apathetic stereotype of a male.
6. My child running too fast on concrete.
7. My child being rejected by other children.
8. My child being mean to other children.

I keep most of these momxieties to myself and do my best not to act on them (except for #4 & 5 which I do my best to remain consciously critical of) because my biggest momxiety of all is that the manifestation of my momxieties will stunt my children's growth, limit experimentation with the world, and or cause them to deny their authentic selves.

Just thought I would share in case any other moms are harbouring any unspoken momxieties of their own.

Counting My Lucky Kids

Things are good right now. Part of me knows that saying that is like a lightning rod for bad luck:

"I'll show you, over-confident parent! Now your children shall be struck by a pox, forget how to sleep, spit food back in your face, require no less than three hospital visits, forget everything they have learned, and pit you and your spouse against one another, all because you dared to speak of your contented state!" laughed the parenting gods mercilessly.

In spite of this, I feel the need to draw attention to it for a number of reasons. First, it might be fleeting, but writing it down will help me to remember how good parenting can be and that it will likely be this good or better again soon. Second, it can help me appreciate what I have and serve as a reminder not to whinge and moan when the little things don't go my way.

Nolan is quite possibly the happiest, most content child I have ever known. So long as his belly is full, he gets his rest, and the scenery changes every so often, he smiles and coos and laughs and is the definition of agreeable. He is strong and healthy and developing on time. I often feel the need to tell those without children that he is abnormal for fear that he will become that with which they measure the normalcy of their own children in the future.

Norah continues to amaze us. Her burgeoning personality is one that is kind, funny, analytical, empathetic, helpful, and creative. She aims to please the majority of the time. Her love for her little brother is palpable. She give spontaneous kisses and thankyous-- tonight she noticed me hug a non-family member for the first time. Her eyes lit up, "You give a big hug?" as if it was so affirming that adults show affection to their friends, too. She has had a long stretch of good health and eats better than I would expect of most toddlers.

This positive state leaves me reflecting-- What impact have I had? How did we get here? How can we stay this way? While there is no way of knowing for certain how much has been our parenting and how much is dumb luck and good timing, I would like to think that there are a few things we do well.

1. Even though they don't understand it, we always explain why. Why not to touch the knife, why we don't eat cookies for breakfast, why we can't go play with friends when we are cranky because we didn't nap... Although in the moment it seems a waste of breath, the next day or next week when Norah parrots the reason back to us in a similar context, we know she was listening.

2. We have expectations of behaviour that we communicate and practise regularly. In regards to tantrums, I once heard a child psychologist quip, "When a child is drowning, you don't try to teach them to swim, you save them. The lessons have to come when things are calm and there is no risk." We make Norah rehearse appropriate responses to hypothetical situations and praise her when she puts them into practice. Most recently, we taught her to say "Excuse me." when she wanted to interrupt an adult conversation or phone call. While she doesn't yet understand that she will not always get an immediate response or that the interrupted conversation will continue once her needs are met, she is excellent at knowing when "Excuse me" is the appropriate thing to say.

3. We make sleep a priority (ignore the fact that I am up writing this at 11:30). We have returned to holding Nolan for all his naps so that they last the two hours he needs. We try like the dickens to get Norah to nap on the weekends (though we are not always successful). We keep reasonable bedtimes and whenever possible, we let the kids sleep as late as they can. Fact is, they're different people when they don't get their sleep. We know enough about accumulating sleep-debt and its devastating effects on children's physical and mental well-being that we refuse to screw with it. It has meant sacrificing a lot of socializing and some personal freedom, but it is a non-negotiable in our house.

4. We offer a balanced diet. What sugar Norah does get is primarily from fruit and home baking. We do keep fruit-leather treats on hand and allow her to indulge in ice-cream a couple times a month, but we do our best to offer whole foods whenever possible.

5. We cut ourselves some slack. Today we had mac and cheese and chicken fingers for lunch. I didn't sweat it because last night, Norah ate two bowls of chickpea stew. Norah hasn't been enrolled in any formal activities since spring (and Nolan hasn't had a single swimming lesson or yoga session), but because it means we can have more leisurely weekends with less stress about getting places on time, we don't care. Norah got a little burn helping me make pancakes a couple weeks ago. Sure, I felt guilty as hell for a while, but when I think about her culinary skills and knowledge and her comfort in the kitchen, I'm amazed. There's no reward without risk.

6. We apologize when we screw up. Last night, C was watching my niece and nephew and so I was solo with the kids at bedtime, which for this rare occasion, happened to be the same for both of them. With a screaming baby in my arms, I told Norah the worst bedtime story in the history of bedtime stories, shut off the lights, and fled in the hopes of settling Nolan. I responded three times to Norah's cries, each with increasing impatience and anger (swaddled, screaming, 20 lb baby in arms), leaving her more distraught each time. Finally, on the fourth try, I went in and apologized, showering her with kisses and hugs (all while Nolan cried on the end of her bed), explaining why I acted the way I did (see #1), telling her what I needed her to do (see #2), and promising tomorrow night would be better. Sure enough, it did the trick. Tonight, I stayed with her for "six minutes" after her story ("Okay, Norah. I will lie here with you for five minutes." "No! Six minutes!") while we snuggled and she tickled my face. When it was time for me to go, she protested lightly, but after closing the door, I didn't hear another peep.

7. We find time (albeit not regularly enough) to hash things out as a couple. When we're out of patience, being curt, and taking things personally, we know it is time for some adult conversation. Whether it be in the car with two sleeping kids, or too late at night before we finally get some sleep, we make the time to talk. It isn't always easy, but we usually come out better than we started, and ready to start working as a team again.

I almost forgot 8. We are silly most of the time. Neither C nor I are afraid to make fools of ourselves. We engage in make believe multiple times a day and laugh at ourselves just as often. We are catalysts in Norah's imaginary worlds and do our best to show her that creativity comes before dignity.

Nothing here is original or any kind of secret, but it's what is working for us right now. What are your secrets to familial success?

Summer Summary

I finally have time to sit and write and I am not even sure where to begin...

Nolan is four months old and twenty pounds strong. While I won't say that the last 1/3 of the year has been easy, I would say it has been a heck of a lot easier than we'd imagined. Nolan's disposition is sweet and calm and we've done our best to keep it that way by seeing to it that he gets his quota of sleep and milk. The milk part has been a breeze. My supply is second-to-none and has known how to latch since day one. Unfortunately, he refuses to take a bottle thus far and this has meant I have had to stay pretty close to home. With an out of town wedding fast approaching, we're really hoping this changes. While suckling is one of his favourite ways to soothe, he has no interest in a soother and, thus, has no coping mechanism with which to get himself to sleep. This has meant that virtually every nap has been spent in our arms. When you consider the fact that only recently have his naps dropped back to 1-2 hours from 2-4, that's a lot of time in the rocking chair and not a lot of time keeping house or socializing. For about a month now, he has been down to just 3 naps a day and has been able to stay awake for 2-3 hours between. When he is awake, he is content so long as the scenery doesn't stay the same too long. Changing things up has gotten a bit easier since he started accepting car-rides as a fact of life. If we time it just right, we can even get him to fall asleep in the vehicle now, although the car-naps have never lasted more than 40 minutes. Unfortunately, as often as our timing is on, it is off-- like almost every Sunday as we try to come home from my parents'. This results in 45 minutes of screaming. We do take a break at the half-way point to calm him, change his diaper, and feed him, before allowing the scream-fest to resume. It is difficult to believe that Norah screamed precisely that length of time prior to every nap and bedtime for the first three months of her life. I used to judge mothers who just couldn't bear to hear their child cry, even for a moment, as being too sensitive, but now I have learned that when your child never cries, it is difficult to endure it when they do. That said, having had Norah, we are lucky enough to know that a few good cries don't inevitably spell disaster for a child.

Speaking of Norah, I believe I have mentioned what a great big sister she is, but have I mentioned that she's potty trained? While we still have the odd premature squirt and we have to watch her like hawks when she is playing and hasn't pooped in a while (playing always wins over potty), we are done with diapers. We couldn't have done it without the help of daycare. Had she have been at home with Nolan and I, there is no way I would have been able to take her to the potty every 30 minutes, just in case, as they do at daycare, and we likely would have had two in diapers indefinitely.

Our lives would be very different right now were it not for keeping Norah in daycare. We had planned to keep her home part-time this summer, but as we looked at the list of projects we had started that needed to be finished, we knew that wasn't realistic. When we looked at the list of projects yet to be started, we made the decision that things needed to change. Our mantra became: Short term sacrifice for long term gain. Thus, the past month has been spent completing home renovations with Norah in care Monday-Friday. Our goal is to sell and move into a brand new home before the end of the year, making 2012 our first home-reno free year since we moved home four years ago. While there is part of me that feels a teensy bit guilty keeping her there full-time thus far, I'm fairly confident that the part of me that would have felt guilty for not being able to provide either of my children the full care and attention they deserve would have been greater. Yes. I realize that parents often deal with more than one child at a time and that children most often survive it, but I have seen first hand how balanced our lives are because Nolan gets undivided attention (and uninterrupted sleep) each day, Norah gets to burn off energy and socialize with the same frequency, and we have been able to keep evenings and weekends special so that no sibling resentment has built and they each get the best we have to offer.

And what does that best look like?

Walks (or trike rides) to the park to swing, slide, and climb. Turns out Norah is a very skilled climber in spite of the fact that she rarely does it spontaneously.

[Almost] Weekly trips to see Grandma and Papa and the cousins in the valley. While the landscaping is far from complete, the giant play structure (courtesy of my brother and Costco) and sand box bigger than my living room has made for some amazing outdoor play.

Visiting with our out of town friends and family who come our way. When it rains, it pours, and this summer, we have been lucky to be drenched by visitors!

Exploring the garden. It has been a learning experience for all of us, especially since we weren't the ones who planted it! Aunties N and K were kind enough to do it and we have had the pleasure of watching it grow! There are few things more heartwarming than having your toddler daughter eat peas she never would have had she not picked them herself or watch intently as you harvest lettuce to be eaten at that night's supper.

Making believe. Whether it is serving us tea and cake, warning us of spiders ready to attack, saving us from monsters only to become one herself, making us "sleep" and waking us up in perpetuity (rehearsing her rooster impression), requesting stories about giants and witches (which inevitably turn into didactic tales teaching social skills and other acceptable behaviours), playing hide-and-go-seek, painting nails, practicing her moves on her dance bar (read: the freezer drawer handle), or having a birthday party with her bears, imagination is not something Norah is short of.

Cooking and baking. Covert operations are the only way for me to cook solo in the kitchen these days. Regardless of how mundane the meal, Norah wants to help. She has the ingredients for pancakes memorized, loves helping me chop vegetables for stew, has a hard time keeping her hands out of the cookie-batter, rolls pizza dough like a pro, and has even flipped a pancake (with mom's help). While she has yet to learn about "sharp" first hand (like her dad), she did confirm the meaning of "hot" last weekend. Fortunately, it didn't leave a mark.

Meeting developmental milestones. Nolan gets to have some fun, too. He's a fan of tummy time and managed to roll from front to back five times in a row a few weeks ago, but hasn't repeated it since. We're working on sitting up, but since his legs are too thick for the Bumbo, this is easier said than done. We recently brought in the Jumperoo and the exersaucer, both of which he loves and will love more once he is steady and his gross motor skills improve. His voice is deep and raspy and he talks more than anyone else in our house. He is quick to show appreciation for our humour (funny sounds and the like) and slow to reach frustration. The sight of his sister thrills him to no end and today he discovered we have a cat. Michael was not so pleased about the discovery.

In a perfect world, this summary would be replaced with descriptive snapshots of priceless moments, but it has not been in the cards. Oh, well. I'll take near perfect kids to a perfect blog any day.

Encore!

I truly believe the whole nurture/nature debate only exists among the childless/childfree. Once you have a child, it is hard not to realize just how little impact you have on their burgeoning personalities. Basically, as a parent, you have a choice, either to work with or work against what is innately there. It's like the weather. You can put up an umbrella and go puddle jumping when it rains or stand outside without a coat screaming at the clouds to stop while you get drenched. Either way, it is going to rain. Working with your child's natural tendencies can help you to enhance particular strengths, improve upon some weaknesses, and hopefully curb some less desirable traits. Working against those same tendencies can lead them to hide from their strengths, magnify their weaknesses, and bring out the worst in your child. But let's be clear-- the best and worst were there all along.

Every now and again, I am able to see how our parenting has shaped Norah. The day after a throw-down over something seemingly harmless, Norah will clearly repeat whatever it was that we had said to set her off the day before, "I have to share with my friends" or "No touch. It's hot!" and then follows the instructions without a fight. It just goes to show that the little buggers are always listening, even when they are screaming at the top of their lungs. It also goes to show that Norah truly does aim to please... only after she has tested the boundaries.

Above all else, the way we have most affected Norah is by being an appreciative audience. Whenever she does something even remotely funny (purposeful or not), we bust a gut or join in the fun. We tell her how funny she is (to which she responds, "No YOU'RE funny!") and often explain exactly what made us laugh (so that she can apply it in other contexts). We ask her to repeat her actions or words for the other parent if they happened to be out of the room when she did something amazing. This has definitely worked to bring out the performer in her. Some kids couldn't care less if anyone was watching or what they thought, but Norah loves to perform for those with whom she is comfortable. For the most part, this is awesome, but with the good comes the bad.

Norah loves to fake cry. In fact, she will say, out of the blue, "I want to cry." and then start wailing. More than once, we have caught her in the mirror contorting her face to and fro, and adjusting the volume, pitch, and duration of her ululations. Her crocodile tears can be quite convincing and often lure us to her bedroom at night only to be met by tickles and giggles. When she enters one of her mock fits, we often say, "Norah, if you want to cry, you can, but you must go do it in your room." and off she will toddle, throwing herself on her bed or her floor for effect and the wailing will continue until she is satisfied that no one is listening any longer.

As annoying as it can be, it is difficult for me to fault her this. Though I do not remember what I was like when I was two, I do remember my childhood, spent in front of a mirror trying on emotions, rehearsing conversations, and studying my own features. By trying on different emotions and personas in the comfort and privacy of my room, I was able to discover which me I wanted to be. It was cathartic. And in a way, I am pleased that, at least for now, she trusts us enough to be an audience for her self-discovery.

Curious Norah

Every so often, a change organically alters Norah's bedtime routine-- a new fondness for a particular book or stuffed animal or boredom with old habits or new-found necessity on our parts. For quite a while now, we have done our best to establish C as the primary facilitator of the routine. We began this in anticipation of Nolan's arrival. Some nights it was better received than others.

Recently, Norah has taken a liking to her Curious George anthology. The new routine has become that she gets three George stories before bed. Now, being teachers, we rarely actually read the stories. We use the pictures to summarize the events and give opportunities for Norah to identify images, make inferences, and add her own ideas. C is a master of framing sentences so that Norah will fill in the blanks. Listening to them at night is hilarious. I will hear the consistent melody of Chris's voice punctuated by an emphatic, "OH NO!" or an excited, "Chocolate!" or a convincing, "Ooh-ooh-ah-ah!" or a somber, "George is sad."

One night, she was adamant that she wanted one more and so C promised her that if she climbed into bed and he turned out the lights, he would tell her a story about Norah and George. Thus a tradition was born. The Adventures of Curious George and Norah follow a pretty traditional arc-- exposition, conflict, rising action, resolution. No doubt Chris's expertise at these tales is informed by his background in improvisation. Again, the most special part about it is Norah's participation. With his leads, she is able to choose other characters, raise the stakes, and find solutions to the problems. I give my kid a lot of credit, but sometimes it surprises even me the things she is able to come up with.

Clearly, this time is special to Norah, too. I can't remember the last time we had to fight to get her to go to her room, especially since bedtime became synonymous with story time.

The past couple nights, Norah has asked for me to put her to bed. I do fine with the book, but when it comes time for her customized tales, mine pale in comparison to her Dad's, and I think she knows it, but she is too kind to say.

Mother's Day (The Third)

This year, I decided to let C off the hook a little. A few weeks prior to the day, I spotted a Groupon for a maid service and requested it as my gift. When the actual day rolled around, C and Norah made me breakfast while I snuggled with Nolan. It was the perfect, low-key day I was looking for.

Now, I just have to decide what I want the maids to do in their 90 minutes of service. Suggestions? I'm thinking a good floor washing. It's been a while...

False Alarm

Phew. While our boy may sometimes be a little difficult to get to sleep deeply at night, he certainly does not share his sister's infant sleep habits. In fact, while he has the odd nap that lasts only 90 minutes, the vast majority of his sleeps (day and night) range from 3-5 hours (sometimes we even get 6!) for a total of 17-18 hours a day. I've continued to give him probiotics and since Saturday, I have been pumping prior to feeding in order to slow down my flow and hopefully avoid painful gas. It seems to be working!

Now, if only I could resist the temptation to "get stuff done" and actually nap with him so I didn't feel like a total zombie most of the day. I'd start drinking coffee again, but I don't want to tempt fate and risk screwing up his sleep.

Speaking of, perhaps I'll go try that now!

Here We Go Again?

The past three nights, Nolan has had gas and reflux that have made it very difficult for him to get to sleep and stay asleep. Lying down hasn't been much of an option, though we keep trying. Last night, after much screaming, we got him down to sleep around 11:30. For the next two hours, he woke every 10-20 minutes yelping in pain. Finally, he fell asleep deeply enough to be put down (though C didn't dare until 3 a.m.). C and I both woke at 6:30, flabbergasted that the kid hadn't eaten since 11:00. Nolan woke shortly there after, fed, and went back to sleep. He slept for another four hours in an elevated position on the couch. He had a waking period of 90 minutes and then went back to sleep for three and a half hours. At 4:00, he was up again and stayed up. At 90 minutes, he was sleepy, but very difficult to get to sleep. C could feel him regurgitating his last meal and squirming with gas. Although I am super thankful for his incredibly long sleeps, I am anxious about how tonight will look after the last three. Deja vu does not even begin to describe sitting in a darkened living room, bouncing on a yoga ball, back aching, wondering if it has been long enough to be able to put our baby down without him waking-up and wigging-out.

We tried a homeopathic remedy for gas with no luck. Today, I visited five different pharmacies and health-food stores looking for infant probiotics. I finally found them. My hope is that it was the antibiotics he was on that have caused him such digestive distress and that once he gets his good gut-bugs back, he will be fine. My heart sank when I read that it takes three to four days for it to work. Still, I live in hope-- hope that we are not in for another infancy like Norah's. I love the kid, but that was a ridiculous time in our lives-- one I hope not to repeat.

Big Sister

We spent a lot of time preparing Norah to become a big sister. Daily, we discussed the baby in mom's tummy and the fact that one day it would stop hiding and come to live with us. We read the book I'm a Big Sister ad nauseum, projecting our family into the book in spite of the fact that we look little like them, and used its language and phrasing whenever we talked about the baby: "Will your little brother eat ice cream? Remember: Babies are so little. Too little to talk, too little to walk, and too little to eat apples or pizza or ice cream." We praised her equally often for anything and everything that made her a big girl. We encouraged her to help with any activity we could and then when she was done helping reinforced that, "You're going to be such a great big sister because you're so good at helping." We got her sleeping in her big girl bed, though we avoided the issue of potty training because we feared regression once the baby did come.

Since Nolan arrived, we have done our best to include her in his life. She passes us wipes for diaper changes, carries diapers to the garbage, she picks which blanket to wrap him with, we show her the boogers we retrieve from his nose with the syringe (she LOVES boogers), we prompt her to kiss him, hug him, and hold his hand, and we discuss future plans-- like how she will teach him to do certain things as they grow.

So far, it has worked. I mean, I can't take credit for her natural helping disposition. Norah loved baby dolls long before she knew I was pregnant. That said, she wasn't overly shell-shocked when he arrived. When we ask her to help she yells, "OKAY!" and runs to the task. She kisses him every chance she gets and talks about him fondly. She's quite protective and showed this best at his two week check-up when she cried because the doctor was holding "her baby."

All this said, she's not perfect. Quiet is not a concept she understands for more than 10 seconds at a time. Gentle is a concept we've been working on since birth when it comes to the cat-- fortunately she seems to show slightly more restraint with Nolan. And when her mind is set on something and our desires contradict it, she will dig in her heals in defiance until we find a suitable distraction or bribe. She does get slightly annoyed when I can't be the one to help her because Nolan is feeding or sleeping. The worst part of all is the fact that we didn't bother to remove the rocking chair from her room before his arrival and now she won't even let us sit in it, let alone take it from her room. Yoga ball it is.

We're doing our best to still give her the individual time and attention she needs. In the morning, she always calls for me and so long as Nolan isn't feeding, I go to her and climb into her bed with her for a morning snuggle before we start getting ready for daycare. Chris has taken her out riding on her trike (a new hand-me-down from the cousins) and running through puddles. She helps me cook in the kitchen. We play hide and seek and Chris gives airplane rides and does tricks with her when she's in the mood. We try to have playdates and outings on the weekends, along with her swimming lessons, so that she doesn't get bored. People have been great about bringing big sister gifts along with their baby gifts, which has helped make him seem more like a bonus than a bummer.

Lately, she has been growing and changing in all kinds of ways. I'm not sure why it surprises me-- I guess I expected her to stall while Nolan took his turn-- but she amazes me daily. Her speech is incredible. Full sentences tell stories from daycare and very clearly express her desires, "I don't want it!" "Mommy! Go away from my room!" "No baby in rocking chair!" "I like muffins." "So-and-so hit me back." Her love of the outdoors has been reignited by spring's (false) start. But best of all is that last week, daycare informed us that she has been peeing on the potty. Not sure when they started, but they take the kids every half-hour even just to get them to sit. This weekend, Chris tried inviting her to do the same at home and was successful! Now every morning, she wakes with a dry (or virtually dry) diaper and pees in the potty before daycare. This has eliminated her over-filling her first diaper of the morning and needing two pairs of pants each day. When she gets home, she will use it once or twice before heading off to bed. We have yet to have a successful number-two, but considering the fact that we have put zero effort into this endeavor, we couldn't be happier at her progress. High fives and fist bumps let her know how proud we are and that she should be proud, too. I'm not letting my hopes get too high, because there's still a lifetime for her to reject him and resent us, but I am thankful for the smooth transition we've had so far.

Birth Story: The Hospital Stay

So as I mentioned, the new rooms in Mother Baby are lovely, though they lack a few practical upgrades that would have made them so much better. The lack of fridge was a huge one, especially considering the "cuisine" I was served (more on that later). There is very little counter space and so the cleaning staff swept around my suitcase, cooler, and other items that we had to keep on the floor. Had I not have been pushed on the bed to my room, I'm not certain we ever would have found it as the room numbers are very illogically assigned (I know! How do you screw up numerical order?!), which the nurses confirmed. Apparently, in the beginning the lab folks were actually unable to find a few patients because of the new system, and when the nurses inquired as to whether or not the numbers could be changed, they were told, "No."

I went in expecting a bit of an extended stay because of the c-section. In the first 24 hours, I was not allowed to be alone with Nolan as I was still on morphine, hadn't yet walked, and had an i.v. and catheter. The nurses only had to take him to the special care nursery once when Chris had to leave, and that was one of the hardest times in my stay. On day two, they mentioned that I might be able to go home on day three (which is actually day four because the first day is day zero). I was ambivalent about this. While I didn't mind being in there and the help I received from the nurses, it was inconveniencing my mother who was staying with Norah and Big N was out of sorts because her mom and dad were gone (C stayed overnight with me every night).

To try to ease her mind, C eventually started picking her up from daycare, taking her home, eating supper with her and my mom, putting her to bed, and then returning to the hospital to "sleep." One morning, he left at 4:30 a.m. to return home before she woke only to discover my mother in bed with her, trying to calm her down and get her back to sleep (his cover was totally blown). He spelled my mom off and spent the rest of the "night" in her twin bed with toddler legs and arms flailing.

On Friday, the bilirubin test showed Nolan was becoming jaundiced. They brought in the lamp in the hopes that we would be able to hold off a spike. While we did a good job of keeping it somewhat stable, and my (amazing) doctor was willing to let me go home, we decided to play it safe. It's a good thing we did. Nolan spent the next two and a half days under the lamp. Each day, my doctor came in, incredibly apologetic, telling me that I would have to stay just one more day. Again, like in the operating room, I gave myself about 30 seconds of self-pity (well, more pity for Norah, to be honest) and then reminded myself that this was all in Nolan's best interests.

Because of the length of my stay, I met many nurses, and as with any profession, there was a bell-curve of quality. Some clearly didn't read my chart to know that I was not a first time mom. Some gave me way to much credit for being a second time mom. Some made me feel like I was a nuisance. Some made me feel comfortable asking for help and didn't press when I didn't want any more. Some chatted with me like an old friend. With some, we each played 20 questions like we were on a first date (Where are you from? Do you enjoy your work?). One or two managed to make me feel like the only patient on the whole ward. They were lovely.

To keep myself busy, I read plenty of magazines (a gift from another friend), finished up this month's book club book (The Glass Castle. So good.), and napped when I could. This was surprisingly difficult in a private room. I felt like this time around there were far more interruptions than last, though that has more to do with expectations than with reality. This time, the nurses were in every hour and a half to two hours. Three meals and three snacks between 9:00 and 7:00 meant that food was being delivered at about the same pace. The laundry service and room cleanings were in and out in the mornings. Residents would check on me. My surgeon paid a visit. Nolan's doctor came to see him. There were lab tests (Nolan's poor feet!). And then there were the two days that there was some sort of construction happening on the hallway wall of my room for two hours. A "private" room never felt more public. Last time, I was in a shared room and had zero expectation of privacy. Plus, we were able to have visitors and so there was a constant flow of hospital personnel and friends and family. This time, our visitors were limited. Only your support person, doula, baby's sibling(s), and grandparents of the baby were allowed in. This limited our visitors to my parents. I questioned this policy with the nurse after Chris overheard a young couple on the free phone in the sitting area telling someone they tried to get them in but couldn't and had no idea what was going on or why they had to stay another day. I thought about the more vulnerable mothers who may be estranged from their parents, whose parents may live out of town, whose aunties or uncles may have raised them, who only had friends and no family in the city. It seemed ludicrous to me that they could draw such an arbitrary line in the sand. Don't get me wrong. I quite enjoyed knowing when and who would be showing up in my room and that I didn't have to say "no" to people when I wasn't up for it. I just think that telling a mother-- you can have 4 people on your list, who are they and what is their relation? is a better strategy.

Norah came up to visit me and while she was shy (heartbreaking) and weirded-out at first, she came to enjoy giving me rides on the bed pushing the triangles, kissing her baby brother, telling us about her day at daycare, and playing in the common area. She even went for her first sleep-over at my mom and dad's as my mom had business she needed to attend to at home. I was so proud of her for sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, but nearly died when my mom told me that reading stories before bed, she asked where every character's mommy and daddy were. *tear*

The woman I hired to do my placenta encapsulation arrived Thursday around lunch and returned the next morning with my pills. Turns out I had a giant placenta because where most women only get one jar, I got a jar and a half. They look like oregano in a pill, which has made it incredibly easy to take. I took my first dose, and my milk came in with gusto. Nolan was a latching pro right from the get-go. This, combined with his wizened gazes, the fact that he calms the second we pick him up and is incredibly patient (though not indefinitely) for what he needs, has made us consider the fact that perhaps this isn't his first go-round at life. Everyone keeps suggesting that it is our experienced energy, not his, that is causing these things, but I'll tell you, when he cluster fed on night one and we did not sleep (and the nurses rightly insisted we wake him to feed every 2 hours the next day so that we could get his bilirubin down), I did not fee like a pro, nor did I feel calm. In spite of this, he settled right back into his little routine the next day.

So I mentioned I would talk about the food... if I can even call it that. Not sure if it is my perception, the length of this stay, or reality that has me believing the quality has dropped since my last stay, but here are a few examples of meals and snacks I received (repeatedly):

One piece of dry toast under the plate cover, with coffee, apple juice, and jam.

A snack with a note about fibre that included a white flour muffin, a piece of cheese, and a pudding.

A snack with a note about the importance of the four food groups that included an orange and a cup of orange juice.

Another snack with the same note about the four food groups that included cheese whiz and breadsticks.

The fact that nutrition is clearly viewed as mutually exclusive to the healing process is so beyond me. My father, a diabetic whose kidney was just removed (cancer) was served salty soups, sugary beverages, and simple carbohydrates during his entire stay, even after multiple requests for them to meet his dietary needs. Ridiculous. Needless to say, the cooler filled with banana muffins, fresh fruit, cranberry juice, lactation cookies, yogurt, cheese, and other goodies that my friend made up for me is among the best gifts I have ever received. I am also thankful for the unlimited access to bread, a toaster, and peanut-butter.

On the sixth day, we were finally released. We had a few hours at home to get settled before C had to go pick up Norah. Since then, things have gone relatively smoothly-- well accept for the various plagues we have endured, but more on that later.

I realize there was quite a lot of criticism in this post, but the fact is, I feel very fortunate that the care we required to keep us both healthy was readily available. There was no question of the number of days that would be covered or my ability to pay for services. The fact that these kinds of things are all I have to complain about is actually quite a good thing.