Reunited

Yesterday my parents, aka Nonni and Grampi, brought G home from a three day hiatus at their house. It was so good to have some time away, alone, but so much better to see him again. He looked older, taller, thinner and his hair looked longer. It's amazing how much you miss or just take for granted when you are with them all day, every day.

Turns out they had a great time together. G was a good guest and kept my parents laughing and on their toes.

Patience

Lately I seem to be questioning much of what goes on with G. If he cries when we put him down to sleep, after numerous books and the normal routine, I wonder what is wrong. What am I not giving him that he needs.

If he is overly fussy I wonder why is he doing this to me. But deep down I know he is not doing it to me. He is just doing it because tantrums and testing and stretching the limits are all developmentally appropriate right now. It is still hard to take, but talking about it helps. I know that I have to work through this stage with him as a patient, loving, consistent parental figure who gives him room to be and gently guides him toward appropriate behavior, however long it takes. Not easy.

I just finished an amazing book called Momma Zen: Walking the crooked path of Motherhood, by Karen Maezen Miller. It was just what I needed, when I needed it. She talked about the tantrums and suggested looking at yourself for clues as to why they might be happening in the moment that they are happening. See what you might be doing or not doing to contribute. Give yourself a timeout by going into another room (if it is safe to leave the child, of course) and let them know when they are calm, they should come get you. I love that idea.

It already worked once, maybe just at calming me down, but hey, that counts.

This parenting thing is a constant exercise in being open and patient.

Of note, this week

A few things of note, that occurred over the past week; a bulleted list.

• Came, THIS, close to getting a black eye from the reverse head-butt my two year old landed on my left cheek, while I tried to put him to sleep, during our first night of camping last weekend.
• Discovering the Fantastic Umbrella Factory in Charlestown, RI. It's like a little piece of San Francisco in Rhode Island. Haight Street meets Armistead Maupin's, Tales of the City.
• Watching my two year old son "breastfeed" his beloved "Kitty." Overheard: "What's that? You want some milk, Kitty? Okay. Here you go. (as he lifts Kitty's mouth to his bare nipple)

It's been an interesting week.

We're off to Crane's Beach in Ipswich, MA this weekend. Should be another story-filled two days.

Doulas and Jesus

In an attempt to better my chances of having a VBAC (G was born via emergency c-section) B and I have decided to hire a doula. We've met three of the four women that I have scheduled interviews with and Man is this difficult. They each seem great in their own ways.

I can't seem to separate my feelings about them as people in order to discern whether or not I think I'll feel comfortable being naked and totally vulnerable in front of them. I like them all. How can I know who I will want there to comfort and support me when I am actually in labor? It's almost like I'm searching for the right religion. Maybe I'm putting too much on this.

Speaking of religion. Two nights ago we began the night time routine of wrestling G into his pj's. Trying to empower G to take part in the process, I said, "G it's time for your pajamas. Can you take your shirt off?"

When he did not respond, I said, "Okay, let me take your shirt off. Arms up."

To which he responded by raising his arms and saying, "Arms up for Jesus!"

B and I have never said this to him. My sister said it the first time she heard us ask G to put his "arms up," and she has said it, maybe, four or five times since, over the course of a year and a half.

Here's to hoping that one of us finds him.

A little different.

Being at the ocean always does something for my soul. My family has been vacationing at the same beach in Maine for 25 years and it never fails to refresh my outlook. There were a few years in, and slightly after, college that I did not go with them, but now I would not miss the chance to bring my son to the beach where my parents, sisters and I have such fond memories.

Our vacation was everything that a good week and a half away should be. It was relaxing, fun, stressful at times and ultimately, gave me the perspective I needed. It was great to be away and great to come home. I love the first night back when we prepare our own meal, sleep in our own bed and snuggle with our overly affectionate cats.

Everything feels a little different. New.
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I have officially settled into "being" pregnant. I'm showing much more than when I was 17 weeks along with G, which I know is normal, but it's still weird. I've started to feel the little life moving inside me, it's reassuring, exciting and creepy all at once.

While I type this G is napping upstairs in his new, low to the ground, twin bed. So, it seems the days of worrying whether or not he'll jump out of his crib are behind us. Last night we moved the crib aside, which gave my heart a jolt. Wait, didn't we just put this thing together for our unborn first child? I can't believe how fast two years have gone.

The first night went well. I checked on him once and then at 6:30 this morning we heard. "Hey. I'm in here." When I opened the door he was standing on the other side to greet me. He hadn't even tried to open the door to discover that we had mounted a child gate just outside, in case he decided to sleep walk.

New things are brewing and a new perspective has been achieved.....

For now anyways.