(E, this one is more or less for you, pretty girl.*)
When I was pregnant with Oliver this summer, one of my neighbors and I were talking - particularly about what it might be like with the two kids: Me, "utter chaos, right?!" and my sweet, sweet neighbor, with the experience of transitioning from 1 to 3 after having twin boys post first-daughter, she smiles, "it can be crazy, but oh the moments you will have are priceless."
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call a 'snapshot.' Both the moment in time chatting with Lisa, but also the concept that life is compiled of little moments not to be taken for granted. I heard a quote this this New Years, "days go by slow, but years go fast." How true! Take a look at your calendars, it's already the final week of January...Ultimately, what she told me was not new, but hearing and listening are very things.
Something else I mentioned to her as a potential nervousness was the unpredictable timing of juggling both; re: feedings, play needs, NAPS. After all, Elliot is generally a champion sleeper, what if the little one's Zzzzs caused her grief? Or us?? Again, so poetically, Lisa reflected something then, which today reared its lovely sentiment to me for nearly the first time in almost 5 months of having a second child: "oh, you will love having that special time with Elle - being with her in those precious moments alone will be different than it has ever been the last two years."
What do those Internet memes always say? MIND BLOWN. There have been a few keys indicators of this righteous statement just this weekend. Today, Elle speaking softly but oh so fervently to herself while building an imaginative Lego tower. Mike and I tiptoed around like house fairies to hear her monologue run with characters ("Prince" and "Princess") and scenery ("horsey' crib"). Elle was also sick on Saturday with a 24-hour bug. I may regret saying this, but give me poop over throw-up any day. Blech. After nearly 6 hours of sheet-stripping and back-rubbing, we brought her downstairs to let the last bath hair dry a little before getting back into bed. As we snuggled on the lone couch cushion unscathed, I asked if I can brush her hair. I figured this could provide a little familiarity of comfort; lately she has been noticing when I get 'my face' on in the mornings and asks for her share of blush and powder too: "Makeup for Elliot, too, Mama." So I asked about her hair and Elle wiped some of the bangs from her brow, looking up doe-eyed to question somewhat deliriously, "for tangles then look in mirror and see so pretty?" Okay, I'm crying now. During those aforementioned mornings, after I "apply" her dose of rouge and mascara, I send her to the door-length mirror in Ollie's room to see what it looks like and exclaim, "Oh! How pretty!" I guess that stuck - and so now I'm crying. I'm crying while my poor babe is just trying to catch a break from the chaos of this flu bug.
So my neighbor was right - I heard it now thinking back - such snapshots are temporary and fleeting. Grab each one!
[Author's sidebar: I do struggle with comments towards my kids like "pretty" or "smart" or "cute" ad nasueum, because I don't desire constructs like these for them to be solely identified - by me, or anyone else for that matter. But in a pinch of what my heart feels to be truthful? No problem :) ]
Monday, January 26, 2015
Saturday, January 3, 2015
What if your bed was round?
Remember the old adage, "I got up on the wrong side of the bed?" So, I pose: what if you consciously make your bed round??
You can probably guess where I'm going with this as it's the New Year, and 2015 calls for reflection and visions of new goals/perspectives as any switch from December to January tends to do. I thought about this concept, this circular mattress idea of sorts, just this morning when I arose from my bed. It was a rough night sleep-wise. For our non-scheduled 4-month old, he does generally well waking up just once during the night, getting a feed, then putting himself back to sleep until a more appropriate (mama-and-papa-appreciated) morning time. Even Elliot has been letting us sleep way past 6:00 these days; so, last night as Mike and I are settling down around 9:00, heading up to read and get our own shut-eye, the little bugger puts on a wimpy little whimper, I bust down the door, interpret Ollie's mews as calls for nursing, pop him on/off the boobs as fast as I can and hop into our delicious flannel sheets. I figure, "Yes! I am amazing! He will surely sleep now until 3:00 or 4:00 - maybe even all the way through!"
I get a solid 2 hours before I am awoken by Mike's snores/hap-hazard breathing as he's getting over his own cold, mixed with my attention span being roused as Oliver has in fact (and much to my glee), not woken up, but alas my mama-brain switches for the rest of the night to any inkling, any decibel on the monitor. In fact O does wait until 4:30 to eat, to which I grumble internally, "Seriously, bro?! Couldn't wait just 1 or 2 more hours at this point??" Note: it's really the flannel sheets I'm desperate to stay snuggled in. They're outrageous, and I highly recommend a set if you don't have one.
Beyond fortunately, and I mean that, Oliver goes back to sleep after eating again in the wee hours, and I flutter my lids open to his grunts around 6:45. To say all this and recognize in general how sweet I do have it, I also say this. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Between 4:30 and 6:45 I had maybe 15 consecutive minutes of undisturbed dozing, with a majority of it stuck on the mama-brain phenomenon, and yes, Mike's god-awful state. I mean, poor sickly husband, you. :) He's a deep enough sleeper, even with NyQuil in his system that I can gently (aggressively at times) nudge him and he'll unconsciously roll over and relieve my ears for a few minutes at a time. So no, I was not ready to get out of bed. I had fed the boy twice, knew I would have to wrestle him, Elle, and Winnie for their morning meals, and I really did want to give Mike the break his body needed, but I was just so. damn. tired.
Then it clicks. Call it dumb luck. But I think it was proper physical, chakra-oriented, introspective alignment the second my bare feet hit the proverbial cold wooden floor: "I choose to get out of this bed happy, with purpose, and acceptance of today's adventures." This sentence swishes between my ears so soundly, I didn't give it a second thought, and sure enough my spine stayed straight, I fixed about my hair in a quick ponytail, and marched on out of our room into the day. My bed became round, and I didn't have to wake up on any other 'side' of it other than how I made it so.
The night's circumstances? Garbage. My attitude surpassing them? It's an innate, human privilege that we should be so lucky to remember that we have: and that is the power within ourselves to choose how to feel, and subsequently act within what we can control. Happy New Year! May all your future mattresses be round...
You can probably guess where I'm going with this as it's the New Year, and 2015 calls for reflection and visions of new goals/perspectives as any switch from December to January tends to do. I thought about this concept, this circular mattress idea of sorts, just this morning when I arose from my bed. It was a rough night sleep-wise. For our non-scheduled 4-month old, he does generally well waking up just once during the night, getting a feed, then putting himself back to sleep until a more appropriate (mama-and-papa-appreciated) morning time. Even Elliot has been letting us sleep way past 6:00 these days; so, last night as Mike and I are settling down around 9:00, heading up to read and get our own shut-eye, the little bugger puts on a wimpy little whimper, I bust down the door, interpret Ollie's mews as calls for nursing, pop him on/off the boobs as fast as I can and hop into our delicious flannel sheets. I figure, "Yes! I am amazing! He will surely sleep now until 3:00 or 4:00 - maybe even all the way through!"
I get a solid 2 hours before I am awoken by Mike's snores/hap-hazard breathing as he's getting over his own cold, mixed with my attention span being roused as Oliver has in fact (and much to my glee), not woken up, but alas my mama-brain switches for the rest of the night to any inkling, any decibel on the monitor. In fact O does wait until 4:30 to eat, to which I grumble internally, "Seriously, bro?! Couldn't wait just 1 or 2 more hours at this point??" Note: it's really the flannel sheets I'm desperate to stay snuggled in. They're outrageous, and I highly recommend a set if you don't have one.
Beyond fortunately, and I mean that, Oliver goes back to sleep after eating again in the wee hours, and I flutter my lids open to his grunts around 6:45. To say all this and recognize in general how sweet I do have it, I also say this. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Between 4:30 and 6:45 I had maybe 15 consecutive minutes of undisturbed dozing, with a majority of it stuck on the mama-brain phenomenon, and yes, Mike's god-awful state. I mean, poor sickly husband, you. :) He's a deep enough sleeper, even with NyQuil in his system that I can gently (aggressively at times) nudge him and he'll unconsciously roll over and relieve my ears for a few minutes at a time. So no, I was not ready to get out of bed. I had fed the boy twice, knew I would have to wrestle him, Elle, and Winnie for their morning meals, and I really did want to give Mike the break his body needed, but I was just so. damn. tired.
Then it clicks. Call it dumb luck. But I think it was proper physical, chakra-oriented, introspective alignment the second my bare feet hit the proverbial cold wooden floor: "I choose to get out of this bed happy, with purpose, and acceptance of today's adventures." This sentence swishes between my ears so soundly, I didn't give it a second thought, and sure enough my spine stayed straight, I fixed about my hair in a quick ponytail, and marched on out of our room into the day. My bed became round, and I didn't have to wake up on any other 'side' of it other than how I made it so.
The night's circumstances? Garbage. My attitude surpassing them? It's an innate, human privilege that we should be so lucky to remember that we have: and that is the power within ourselves to choose how to feel, and subsequently act within what we can control. Happy New Year! May all your future mattresses be round...
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