Back on the horse, and Halloween Sleep

A couple of weeks ago was halloween. Some of my friends think it's nuts, but we don't limit how much candy the kids eat on halloween; we feel they need to experience the glory of gorging now and then, and the sickness of what happens after. If they don't do it now they certainly will do it later, so why not be present for the fall out.

But that's just the set up for what I want to talk about. The gorging, of course, took place late in the evening, after much tearing around the neighborhood in a frantic trick or treat blitzkrieg, when they usually would be going to bed. They aren't used to very much sugar in their little bodies, and certainly not so much chocolate-bound caffeine, and I was certain they weren't going to sleep very well.

Do you know about the Switch Witch? She has a very strong sweet tooth, or is perhaps quite greedy--hard to say--but if you leave your candy out for her she will take it in exchange for a toy. She browsed the aisles of Target a couple of days ago and the comedy is not lost on me that she emerged with a small Ninjago Lego set for Clark and a Barbie with a blue stripe in her hair for Frances. (A couple of years ago, wedded to the Waldorf Way, I would not have seen this coming. Funny how you don't know what kind of parent you're going to be.)

Nonetheless, the Switch Witch arrived, claimed her candy and delivered her gifts not long after the kids were asleep. Mitch and I stayed up for a long while after that, and then at midnight as we lay in bed talking, Clark awoke to use the bathroom. Mitch and I got quiet and listened (whispering that someone needed to put on some clothes), then huddled under the covers as Clark entered our room, eyes bleary and hair a mess, his lego set clutched in his hand. He clearly thought it was morning, and when we explained and then convinced by showing him the clock, he climbed into our bed beside me, pulled the covers up around him, and fell asleep.

Mitch and I stayed where we were and whispered for a good while, somehow got on the subject of when the kids were babies and no one ever slept through the night. How long did that go on, I wondered, the not sleeping? Was I sleep deprived for years on end? And why is it that I don't remember clearly? Because I was so sleep deprived? Or because of the general amnesia that comes with being a mom?

I remember this: when they were still nursing but no longer newborns, they woke once a night to eat, and then when they weened (they both self weened: Frances at 6 months (no idea why on earth..) and Clark at a year) they still woke and had to be helped back to sleep. What did we do? Rock them? Hold them? Why can't I remember? After talking a while with Mitch I did remember the sound of the cry rising up, a complaint, a whine, nothing too urgent at first. And Mitch or I would nudge the other, say the kid's name, and the other would roll out of bed and stumble into the hallway before opening an eye.

We played musical beds-- everyone started in his own, but sometime in the night a kid would cry and one of us would go to him, and lie down in his bed, and fall asleep there. This is why they both have full beds rather than twin. Or a kid would come to our room and want in bed with us. We tried to mostly take her back to her room and lie there with her, but sometimes that was too much to accomplish, and the kid made her way under our own covers. Two hours later, when I realized I was sleeping not even a little with a writhing slumbering child up against me, I would remove myself from my bed and retreat to her now empty child's one. Many a morning I woke there alone, the sun gleaming through her pink curtains. It's all coming back to me now.

For years I didn't sleep a full night. Years. It wasn't bad--it wasn't 4 times a night like some moms complain. I didn't think too much of it. There was a point with Clark where I did get desperate enough to ask advice on facebook about how to keep him in his bed, asleep, but for the most part I just took it as the texture of this chapter of our lives.

And now! Now everyone sleeps in his own bed. For the whole night. Every night. Every night except Halloween when some people wake to pee at midnight and think it's 7 am. Now everyone sleeps in his own bed every night and wakes in the morning and goes downstairs and pours his own cereal into bowls he himself has fetched from the cabinet. And I sleep on.

I wonder how much of my current parenting sanity has to do with sleep alone. It's impossible to say, but I wonder anyway.

There was a woman in Target day before yesterday with 2 babies in a stroller. I asked her how close in age they were, and she said 364 days. She was smiling, pleasant, didn't look strung out or unbathed or filled with rage. "How is it? Is it hard?" I asked. She shrugged. Shrugged! "It's great!" she said. "Well, they both sleep through the night, so that helps." "You must have lots of family to help," I said. "I do."

I've been teaching a writing class for over a year now, reading their stories and commenting, digesting and suggesting, and it's been making me want to write. I keep wanting to write, but I keep not writing. But here I am! Look at this! My blog--at least it's a start. Maybe it will be something larger next. It's like doing cartwheels after so long. A little dizzying, but the legs are straight I'm pretty sure. Cartwheels down the driveway and after a bit they curve and you lose control, there's only so many you can do in a row. But here I am. Showing up. Excellent.

looking for suggestions!!

Serious sleep issues, and I need some help. At two this morning Clark was standing beside my bed saying "downstairs! downstairs!" and this did not work for me. In the end I was only up with him for about 40 minutes, but the night before it was an hour and a half. I'm starting to feel like when he was an infant and I was sleep deprived for legitimate reasons.

Here's what we've got:

First, he sleeps with his light on full, which is a problem because when he wakes up he doesn't know if it's morning and insists that he's ready to get up and go downstairs. I've thought about just taking the bulb out, telling him it's broken, and putting in a small night light. That means we'll have to read books at night somewhere other than in the armchair in his room, but that's okay. Another option is to put in a clock and tell him he can't get up until the first number is a six or seven or whatever, but honestly I don't think he's going to go for that at all. He'll just get up anyway. Or we could try both.

The next issue is that he wants us to stay in the room until he falls asleep. He doesn't do this at nap, by the way. He asks sometimes at nap and I tell him "no, at nap we don't do that," and he accepts it. So we're going to have to have a talk about how mom and dad are not going to stay in the room anymore. I could deal with letting him cry it out (and I think it would only take a day of this....) but he won't just cry it out; he'll climb out of the crib. This all started with his climbing out in the first place: we tried the supernanny thing of putting him back, putting him back, not speaking to him and just putting him back, but he just became more and more hysterical and worked himself up into what seemed an unnecessary panic. When that would happen and I would stop and just put my arms around him, he'd quiet immediately. We figured it was just a stage, some kind of anxiety that would pass, so we started to stay in the room. It isn't so bad to sit with him when we put him to bed, especially as we've taken to watching netflix on our iphones with headphones while we wait, but the problem is that he expects it again when he wakes in the night.

AND I CANNOT KEEP DOING THIS AT 2AM.

Okay. So when he wakes at night and screams, I tell him it's the middle of the night and everyone is sleeping and he needs to sleep too. He shrieks. If I say I'm going back to bed he shrieks and then climbs out of his bed. Here are the options as I see them:

1) Get a crib tent. Zip him in. Ignore the possible hazard were there a fire. Make him feel powerless but dominated. Get some sleep.

2) Get a new toddler bed he loves, a fire truck or pirate boat or something, and tell him he can only have it if he stays in it. In order to enforce that, however, I'd also have to get a crib tent so I can move him to the crib if he won't stay in the bed.

3) Leave the crib the way it is but put latches on the door so he can't get out of the room. This will probably mean he will cry until he passes out on the floor. Again with the powerlessness.

4) Is he old enough (2 1/2) for a sticker chart? I don't know... I don't think he'll get the idea of accumulating stickers toward a goal. But maybe there's something I can bribe him with immediately? I don't know what. He doesn't sleep with any stuffed animals, nothing I can take away if he won't comply...

5) Dose him heavily with narcotics every night before bed. Kidding. Sort of.

6) Gear myself up and do the supernanny sleep training for a couple of nights: simply put him back in bed every time he gets out. The problem with this is that I have to stay nearby to put him back in, and that's just what he wants. He doesn't mind being in the bed as long as I'm there too.

7) Take him into the bed with me in the guest room. (you note the absence of the option to put him in bed with us... both of us are light sleepers and it simply would not work.) I fear this would mean I would forever sleep in the guest room, which just creates another problem rather than solving this one.

8) Is there something I can get for his room that would make him more comfortable, less needy? Suggestions????

He used to be a great sleeper. He used to just wave to us from his bed as we said goodnight. He would wake up and sometimes call out in the night, but then go right back to sleep. All by himself. And I don't feel this is any longer about anxiety and separation and fear; now it seems to be about control, the way he is trying to assert control over his world. Maybe one solution, or part of the solution, is to help him feel in control in other ways, give him choices or let him make other decisions. Thoughts about that?

So, please, if you have any suggestions at all, please please offer them. Helpful or unhelpful, tried or absurd, I'll take em.

By the way, I'm writing this while both kids are at preschool! All on my own here in the world, for a little while. Maybe this space will mean I can keep up with the blog better. That would be nice.

brainfizz

I think my brain is deteorating. This is mostly why I haven't been posting... sometimes interesting issues come up, but then I can't think through them or something. This is what too many diapers will do to a person. Or maybe it's the volume of the screaming; maybe it's not just my eardrums it's damaged, but my actual brain cells too. I'll buy that.

Recently I made a new friend, a childless friend who is a PhD and new faculty here. She uses her brain on a regular basis for more than estimating the fullness of a diaper or how many snacks are necessary for a given outing, and while talking with her I felt like I was sprinting to keep up. It was pitiful. I need to take a class or something.

We are in transition. (We are actually all in transition all the time, but some transitions move more earth than others...) For one thing, school just started for Frances. We visited for a bit on Wednesday and then she had regular school days Thursday and Friday, though Thursday afternoon I was rather shocked to realize she was going again the very next day. I felt like it should be once a week or something....

Wednesday morning was going along fine, everyone wearing their own clothes and generally behaving, then Frances started losing her shit. "Is she hungry?" I asked Mitch. She cried about the toy Clark was playing with. She cried because the 6 page paperback book she was reading 'pinched her finger'. "Did she not sleep?" I asked. "Is she nervous about school?" And she was. It took awhile for her to admit it, or discover it, or something. She appears to be blessed with my complete inability to know what it is I'm feeling while I'm feeling it. I'm trying to help her with this, which is hard since I don't know how to do it in the first place.

So I told her about my scary first day of school, embellishing with all kinds of real and possibly real details. I reminded her I was going to be with her at the school--this was just a visit, not the actual first day--and then I realized she might not remember being there before, so told her what the school looked like, about the play kitchen and the dress up clothes and the baskets of rocks and wood and the chickens in the back. She calmed down, and when we were there she had a lovely time.

Thursday morning at the beginning of school they had a ceremony with this rainbow bridge, where the children, holding flowers, stood on one side of the bridge with their parents and the teacher stood on the other. One by one the children kissed their parents and crossed over the bridge where they gave the flower to the teacher who collected them into a bouquet. It symbolized their spirits going from their parents to the care of the teacher while in school, and at the end of the year ceremony they will walk over the bridge in the opposite direction. It was very very sweet. Frances had no issue at all with it and marched right across the bridge. Later in an email, the teacher said Frances had a really good day and was so confident. How funny to me that she is. The school is a Waldorf Kindergarten which is mixed ages, 4-6, and she's the youngest there. I worried a little that this would show and she would feel out of her element somehow, but I guess not. She's already attached to one other girl whose name is Francesca, interestingly.

So there's that. We've been getting along so well the past few days and Mitch suggested it's because she has school, something of her own away from me, something to make her feel independent. Or maybe we're just in the next (and much improved) stage.

But Clark! The stage we're in now is not so fabulous. I know I've said it before but since I think it every third minute of the day, it can bear repeating here: I cannot WAIT until no one in this house is two. Just the noise level alone is enough to put a person over the edge. I've taken to putting tissue in my ears first thing in the morning. (earplugs seem to be a bit too effective.) It does help with my patience.

There's the sitting in his room until he falls asleep thing; I worried we were creating a monster and indeed here it is. Now he's waking up in the night and wanting us to sit with him until he falls back asleep. Actually, that's after all the arguing; last night he was up from 4-5:30, wanting to go downstairs, wanting snacks, wanting different pajamas. Every time I told him no, explained it was the middle of the night, he screamed. A being attacked 5 alarm kind of scream. I think we're going to have to pick a night, a couple of nights, and just let him scream. It's going to suck. But he's old enough now to understand it, old enough that it will probably only take one night of that kind of hell for him to realize what it means.

Oh when there are no more two-year-olds. But he's so charming and sweet when he's not screaming. When he's not out of sorts he is lovely to be around. I remembered this last week when Frances was in school and I had him all to myself. When they're together they kind of rile each other up, but alone with me he was only joy. Except when he was screaming, as I've said before. I swear I think he's louder than most children.

Yet! Tomorrow! Tomorrow is the first day with both of them in school. I drop Frances off at 8:45, then Clark at 9. What will I do with myself? And then! It will happen again on Thursday! Oh blessed day.

a-ha...

Now I know why I'm not supposed to sleep with my daughter. It's because she comes in our room at TWO AM and wants to get in bed with us. It's because at TWO AM when I tell her that she must sleep in her own bed, she has a meltdown. It's because when I finally bribe her with music to stay in her own bed, she returns AN HOUR LATER to tell me she doesn't want Hickory Dickory Dock on the CD. It's because I'm tired. We had a little chat yesterday about how much fun it is to sleep together in the afternoon and how much I love snuggling with her, but if she keeps coming in our room in the night then we're going to have to stop sleeping together in the afternoon. I hope she can see the logic.

backsliding

Did I say that things were going exceptionally well? (see previous post...) It was just a moment, a fluke, a respite before regular life returned. Oh i'm cynical and depressed. Hopefully that's the fluke and things will improve again, and maybe this time for a longer period. Anyway.

It's 5:30 am and I've been up with Clark pretty much since 3. The first time I tried to rock and soothe him w/out feeding him. 2nd time I gave him tylenol and rocked him again. 3rd time I fed him a bottle (have I said we've weaned? I had started giving him a bottle in the evening and in the night so other people would be able to stay w/ him and let us go away for much needed alone time, and then my supply started dropping. I tried to bring it up, but Clark didn't really want to nurse anymore, so it just kept dropping. I'm a little sad about it, conflicted I guess. Perhaps more about that later.), and between these I was letting him cry for a short time. Eventually Mitch asked if he should try and I said I didn't care if we just let him cry, but Mitch went in and after that he was quiet for a whole 15 minutes. Then I just said screw it and got up.

The night before last he was up but only once in the night and yesterday I woke in a funk. I almost felt like I was stoned most of the day. I don't know if it was just the one night of broken sleep or what. I haven't had any social contact this week at all, and there's no doubt I do much better when i'm getting social contact, with or without the kids. So back to depressed. I've been lying in bed since 3 (between getting up times, of course) thinking about how I'm not happy in my marriage. Which, btw, I pretty much haven't thought for the 6 years I've been married, so I can only surmise that the majority of that thought comes from the depression. Whenever I have a twinge of depression I think "oh shit oh shit here it comes again." It's hard so just let it come and trust that it will eventually go.

Thankfully the boy can play exceptionally well by himself so at this moment I don't have to entertain.

About that: I've been feeling guilty lately (perhaps more of the depression) that Frances got so much direct uninterrupted attention at this age and Clark gets the grand experience of navigating this world (or at least the family room) on his own. Not only did she get more attention from me, but her sitter Carol loved her better than perhaps anyone could. Carol was ideal in her interactions, her focused attention, the pure love she gave Frances. I really truly don't think I can love her as well. As much, yes, but not as well. I wish Clark could experience it. I also am sad for Frances that she no longer has that in her life. Last night I was singing her a song and one of the lines is, "if they gave me a treasure my pleasure would be small, I could lose it all tomorrow and never mind at all, but if I should lose your love dear I don't know what i'd do, for I know i'll never find another you." She always stops me here and asks about "why he lose treasure?" (interesting she assumes a male narrator...) and I try to explain that he didn't actually lose it, but if he did then it would be okay because he has love and love is more important than treasure. She wanted to know "why he love" and that was a hard one to explain but I did my best and finally came around to "who do you love? You love Carol, don't you," to which she said, "I lose my Carol," and I thought my heart would break.

Going to go play with him to ease some of the lack-of-attention guilt. Frances and the sun will be up soon.

breathing room

We've had a hard time putting Clark down for sleep--both for bedtime and naps. He doesn't want to give in, give out, and he fights it and squirms and fusses and we sometimes have to go in several times before he calms down. But it's the funniest thing--recently he's started putting himself to sleep. It came all at once, it seems. Now I read him a story and rock him for a moment then put him in his crib. He stands up and holds the rail and jumps up and down and I kiss him and wave and tell him goodnight, then leave the room. Through the monitor I hear him jumping awhile and sometimes he'll cry for about 8 seconds, and then lies down and goes to sleep. It's rather stunning, and I don't know how we got here.

Sometimes I feel like my life is like that; something finally comes together and I think "how did I get here?" What would I have to do to find my way again if I wandered away? For the moment I feel this way about parenting. Finally I'm relaxed. Finally I'm sane. Finally I feel like I know how to handle my kids and fill them up and find a little square of sunlight for myself. Most of it, I'm sure, is that Clark is also--in addition to going to sleep on his own--now sleeping 3 of 4 nights through the night. I had recently been unable to have perspective about this lack of sleep though I suspected the toll it was taking on me. But now! Now my waking hours are much less fraught, much less anxious, much less desperate. I'm able to sit on the floor with my kids all day some days and just play with them without feeling like it's sucking the life out of me. I actually straighten up the kitchen and the toys in the middle of the day instead of waiting until they are in bed to do any kind of maintenance. I still wish I had more emotional space to be creative with them, to organize art projects or different kinds of play, but I don't yet. Hopefully that will come as they get older and even more pockets of time open up for me.

Clark's not walking on his own yet for transportation but he takes some steps now and then. Crawling is still much more efficient for him. But soon he will walk. Soon he'll be a toddler and will pull away from me a bit. I've started him on the bottle for his last feeding before bed and for the one during the night if he wakes, which means we only nurse a few times during the day. Sometimes I want to ween him all together but other times I want to hang onto that contact between us. Soon he'll be busy on his own, will be able to get around by himself rather than have me carry him. Soon he'll be independent in very physical ways and the baby will start to fade. I feel sorrow for this. But I also feel relief for myself and my own independence.

As an only child I really need my time and space to myself or I feel like I'm wilting. M is teaching an evening class this term and I've found I really love it--isn't that funny? I have a sitter come and help me get the kids in bed and then I have this whole evening stretched out before me just for me. Sometimes I take a bath. Sometimes I read. Always I relish it. It's funny that I've gotten to be this old and am still learning things about myself. How can that be?

morning

I'm here to complain. I'll be brief.

oh my gawd i'm tired. And I think a little depressed after so long w/ so little sleep. I can't imagine how I'd feel after 7 hours straight.

Frances is sick. big runny nose, tears running down her face though she's not crying, fever. Clark is sick too. Just a day off antibiotics and his fever is back, snotty nose, terrible cough, pulling on his ear. Was up with him 3 times last night, one of them for an hour as I brought him downstairs and suctioned him and changed his diaper and let him play a bit. Was up with Frances only once but that was not a quick one either; I sat her on my lap and sang to her. She gets so lonely.

So today no school because of illness. I've got to call the doctor because he wanted me to bring Clark back in anyway to have his ears checked after we finished the antibiotic.

I just want to go back to bed.

i need a vacation

The potty training must be pretty stressful for Frances; she was up twice last night in the night, stretched out in her bed crying scared and sad like a bad dream. She calmed down right away when I was there and I rocked her for a bit and sang to her until she said she was ready to go back to her bed. Clark isn't sleeping either--he's right on a developmental cusp physically and I've read that these types of transitions are like when you have a presentation coming up at work plus guests coming to stay and the water heater breaks. Just system overload. So he was up three times. The first time I nursed him and the second I tried to just soothe him and rock him but he was so upset that I wasn't nursing him that he nearly propelled himself out of my arms. So nurse again we did. Need I say I was pretty tired today? Plus Frances is giving up her nap, I believe. No wonder today I want a new job. Or at least a vacation.

I put her pull-ups back on her today. It was just too much for me and clearly was causing her anxiety and then we had music class. I was worried that if she had an accident in music class she would be really upset, though I knew I could have her go to the potty just before class and then again afterwards. It's only 45 minutes after all. Anyway.

But in other ways things are good. This morning she'd been watching TV and I told her we were going to turn it off and she could find something play while I worked in the kitchen. I was blending apricots I'd steeped and bananas and then pouring them into ice trays for Clark's meals. At first I suggested she work a puzzle or maybe build with her duplo blocks. She said, "That's a good idea, Mommy!" then started making suggestions herself. Clark was sleeping and it was a nice moment with just the two of us. I need to keep these moments in the front of my brain, especially when I need a vacation so very badly.

inner calm.

I have to say, ever since I decided maybe two kids is enough I've been enormously relieved. Relieved. I do want to revisit the idea again later, when Clark's a few months older, but for now it seems pretty clear what's right for me. Relieved that I'm 9 months through the worst of the heavy lifting; relieved that things will only get easier (physically anyway); no longer tortured about how we'll possibly travel, or go out to dinner, or keep up with the laundry, or afford it, or ever have any time to ourselves again. The truth is that I function better when my living area is in a certain amount of order. If there are stacks of papers on the counters, piles of laundry to fold, and scattered general crap, I am agitated. And what I want to be in my life is calm. This is a major goal of mine, in fact: calm. There are some people who can stand in the middle of the tornado and feel inner calm, but I am not one of them. What I feel is frazzled and in a hurry to do all the things that need doing. Also, I have to do these clean/straighten up things before I can start any kind of creative project, which means that if things are a mess I never get to the creative stuff. For my mental health I HAVE to have a creative outlet even if it's just sitting on the couch and knitting or writing on my blog.

Relieved. And although we will talk about this again this summer, I feel 80% certain the decision then will be that two is enough. I'm rather sad I won't be pregnant again, however. I do like being pregnant. Two things about our lives that would change the decision for me, were they different: one is having family nearby to help and the other is my age. It's not that I'm worried about the genetic stuff--more it's my energy level. I'm tired. And every time I carry both kids up the steps at the same time I feel it in my knees. In fact, I understand why we were meant to have babies when we're twenty. The lack of sleep would be nothing--I didn't sleep in my twenties as it was and I could function just fine.

My house has been overrun by kids toys, btw. Tent in the family room, play kitchen in the dining room, swing and slide in the basement. Baskets of toys in the living room, our room, family room. Interestingly, it occurs to me now that there are very few toys in their own rooms. Hm.

navigating

I have a hickey on my chin. I look like someone popped me there, or like I fell into the blunt edge of something chin first. (Which perhaps is an appropriate metaphor for my life these days....) My son put it there last night around 3 am. I was trying a new approach: to soothe him back to sleep in the night without feeding him. He didn't buy it. He was wide awake, touching my face, squirming, singing "dadadada da da", and sucking on my shoulder and chin. After an hour of such fun I decided my sleep was more important than the current lesson, and gave in and nursed him. I suppose this is how parents get into these bad-sleep-habit spots, by deciding that sleep now is more valuable than long term results. Besides, who's to say that whatever approach will give the intended results? You could be doing all this for nothing anyway, an exercise in foolishness.

He used to sleep like a champ. From 9 pm to 5 am, and then a couple hours more. But that changed this summer during one of our trips south, and we haven't been able to break the cycle since. I think it's just habit. I want try something radical, something that includes Mitch's staying up for a couple of nights in C's room. I don't think I can be the one--he knows I've got the goods and why should he not have them if I'm there? But this weekend M's in NYC for a conference and next week he's in NC for the dissertation defense (finally!!!!!) so it won't be immediate. I feel rather strongly that much of my current struggle has to do with this sleep situation. If I could only get 6 hours straight, maybe my body wouldn't be so out of whack.

Yesterday I was doing just fine until the sitter got here. And I like her, like the way she is with the kids. It was a really nice day and I suggested they go outside and play. When I held the door open for them Frances said, "Mommy too?" and I said no, I was going to stay inside and fix dinner. But as soon as the door closed behind them I was completely overcome with guilt and panic such that I couldn't chop the broccoli. I really thought I might throw up. I felt like I was missing something--like I should be out there in the sunshine with them, that F's childhood is going to go by too fast and I'm going to have missed it. Unfortunately, this summer my mother said something to me to this effect--suggested that I go out with the sitters to have them help w/ Clark, etc, because "Frances is in such a good stage and you're going to miss it." Which, first of all, I know intellectually to be completely not true--I see her plenty and I'm the one that gets to experience all the good stuff. Mitch pointed out that if anyone's missing anything it's him with the working and all. But somehow this statement lodged itself deep in me and I keep having these mini anxiety attacks that I am missing something, that I should be with them more, that I'm doing them a disservice when I take time for myself. Mitch keeps pointing out that taking time for myself actually does them good, since it rejuvenates me and allows me to be a better mom when I am with them. Again, I know this intellectually. But the ppd and anxiety is completely disconnected from anything I know in my brain. It's a storm all its own in my body, a sort of tempest, motoring through the barricades I keep erecting. (I keep trying to navigate it--to do things to keep the anxiety at bay, like going to the gym while F is in school since taking her there brings it on, or scheduling my sitters at the hardest part of the day, or giving up sometimes and lying on the floor.) Yesterday my response was to tell the sitter to hang out with Clark while I played outside w/ F. I thought C could use some undivided attention and that would give me an opportunity to play w/ Frances without distraction. We pushed her babydoll stroller down the street to where some neighbors were playing in their yard, and we rolled a basketball back and forth, and we had a good time; but the anxiety wouldn't go. Once it had arrived it was there, and nothing I could do about it. It was this intense physical pain just under my ribs and it was still there when I sobbed in the grocery store parking lot an hour later.

Today, after the lovely night of very little sleep, I gave in and took some of the anti-anxiety drugs I'm hesitant to take. Today is a much much better day. It's amazing really. I don't know what that means about where to go from here....

alone with frances

We went to the zoo and the attraction F liked most was the water fountain.

C is now the age F was when, during my drive to work, I would fantasize about not stopping the car, driving on through the mountains and into Tennessee, staying at some motel where I would sleep all night long. I would wonder how long it would take my family to find me, but until then I would be free. I would see a movie, eat in a restaurant, soak in the bathtub. I don't have those fantasies this time, but I understand where they came from.

Today I had the sitter stay with C while I took F with me to the farmer's market. I strapped her on my back and we stood in the rain together, sharing an umbrella, and listened to a couple play bluegrass under a large white tent. She sleepily leaned into me and I could feel her breathing. It was quite possibly the first time we had been together, just us, without the baby since he was born. We're alone sometimes when he's sleeping, but I always have to listen for him--my attention is never fully with her. Besides, we can't leave the house then; we can't go out into the world together. Today was so sweet. I got choked up there in the rain listening to a girl with a guitar sing "Amarillo". I thought that it may be one of those moments I'll remember in stills, as if it were a photograph. I wonder if I will?

I realize that one of the things that's changed most since the baby is that I don't have the patience to let F dally as I did before. When we're trying to get in the car and she's crawling around on the floor and not getting in her seat I lose some patience, but it's b/c the baby is loaded up and strapped in, and until the car is moving he's going to get more and more agitated. Or I don't let her take her time w/ her lunch because the baby will in a few minutes need to nurse. I don't know if this is something I can change or not, this thinking that we need to always stay on task. I've realized recently that the baby is now old enough (can hold his head up well enough) for me to put him on my back which leaves my hands more free to play with her. I've been carrying him on my front but that means I can't bend over well to help her, or I can't pull her close. I'm also starting to use the stroller more. He's so content hanging out wherever... and it frees me up to be with her if he's in the stroller rather than on my front.

I miss her still. Sometimes I wish she were my only child. I'm a bit envious of my other friends who only have one, but I just keep repeating to myself the things other women w/ kids close together tell me: later I'll be glad; it will be hard for the first 2 years, then much easier; they'll have a great relationship. I try to believe them.

writing rather than napping

The heat finally broke, which is more wonderful than I can explain here. Yes, I'm a steely southern girl who should be used to such excesses but down there is not a building without air conditioning. And this house has none. Usually, I assume, that's not an issue here in NY. Most of the houses we looked at didn't have air, but this past week has been pretty miserable. Now we have a window unit on the first floor and it makes an amazing difference. Getting one on the 2nd floor might make my life complete.

Just a bit ago I put F down for her nap and as I was leaving her room, literally as I was closing the door, I heard Clark waking up. Sigh. He was up more than usual in the night last night so I'm rather jonesing for a nap today, but there it is. Right now he's beside me in his bouncy seat chewing on his hand as I write. He's very cute.

So the girl we hired to sit for us is working out okay. Better than I expected, actually. She's only a temporary fix anyway, as she goes back to school in August, but even for this short time I wasn't sure about her. What's surprising to me is how much anxiety there has been in trying to find someone. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me... I'm choosing someone to take care of my KIDS for crying out loud. When I was a kid sitters were meant only to be sure the kids didn't kill themselves or the house didn't catch fire. I'm not sure anyone expected a sitter to enrich the child's life. But now I want someone who will teach Frances things, help her navigate the world a bit better, blah blah. On one hand I feel this is ridiculous and that it's just the run off from the Baby Boomers and their full toddlers' schedules, the norm they set for parenting. I don't want to be this kind of parent.

Yesterday F and her sitter played outside in the rain. This is one benefit to having a younger person with her... I'm not likely to play in the rain and neither would be someone older. They also recently spent a large amount of time burying and then finding things in the sand box... That's a good life, I think.

my daughter is a toddler

My daughter is currently in her bed because that's where the paci lives and she couldn't seem to function without it this morning. There was a fit because after mom said this was the last baby einstein video, mom still wouldn't put another one on. And there was a fit because she wanted baby brother to sit in his bouncy seat on the kitchen table rather than on the island in the kitchen. It was helpful to choose between apples and pears for breakfast, but then baby brother was still sitting on the island rather than the table, and mom still said no more tv. So to the bed we go.

This is a new stage, which is to say we've entered a new realm of the cosmos. It's different here, the air a little thinner and everyone's patience shorter because of the lack of oxygen. Luckily the baby doesn't seem to notice. We've decided we've got to work on having F see other people holding the baby, because the level of distress she experiences whenever anyone but mom holds him is way out of proportion to the situation. Nearly everyone who comes over is going to be asked to hold him for at least a moment. Yesterday when grammy was here it went surprisingly well, at least the 2nd time.

I can hear her talking with her fingerpuppets in her bed right now. Having the paci confined to the bed is a wonderful trick because it creates some built in down time when she needs it. But the risk is that she'll fall asleep in there before her nap, which is what happened yesterday. On the one hand, one hopes an early nap may mean a 2nd in the day, but the reality is that it only means an early nap and the evening dinner routine is more disastrous than usual. So do I go in and get her up if she starts to fall asleep? Do I leave her and hope for the best? If the baby goes to sleep soon also, then I could get a nap too, but that's risking an awful lot these days.

i need more sleep

Yesterday mid-morning we finally got ready to go to the grocery. The getting ready part takes awhile: diapers changed; shoes on; jackets on; diaper bag ready--diapers, sippy cup, crackers, banana; baby in car seat; find the obligatory stuffed bunny; all ready. Out the door we go. Once the three of us were outside on the steps I realized I'd forgotten the keys and had just locked us outside the house. And I'd forgotten the cell phone inside so I couldn't call anyone who might have a key. While Frances pulled the petals off my pansies (and the baby sat thankfully quietly in his car seat), I stood on the front lawn trying to clear the haze from my brain and figure out what to do. Soon a neighbor and friend of mine came along pushing a stroller. She had a phone so I called who I could but no one was home. I was getting ready to try to break in the house when my friend said, "You're sure you locked the back door?" I thought I'd check, and it turns out my muddled brain had forgotten to do that before we left! Ah, the salvation of the confused. So we were off. But it had been so long since we got ready to go that on the way to the store (which is only about a mile and 1/2 away) the baby needed to nurse again, so I pulled off at the rec center parking lot. And when I got the baby out of the car I discovered I'd never buckled him in his seat in the first place. My gawd.

So.

Last night Clark slept for five hours straight, meaning I slept for five hours straight--the longest stretch of sleep I've gotten in a month needless to say. I feel sort of amazing, which is why I can delay my nap long enough to type this. Besides, I have to stay up a bit longer because Clark refuses to fall asleep without being held, so I am currently swaying back and forth with him strapped on my front. Once he's out cold I can put him down and lie down myself. This situation (his only falling asleep while being held) is a problem. I'm dealing with it in stages. Will let you know the update on that sometime in the future.

This whole two-kid thing is hard. Today it doesn't seem quite as hard, which makes me think the difficulty comes with the sleep deprivation and is not born solely of the two-kid dynamic. But it's hard to entertain Frances while nursing and burping and walking and changing diapers, and when she plays on her own she pulls the animal food bowls off the counter where we've tried to get them out of her reach, and if they don't break when they fall to the floor they spill water, which she slips on, and cat food, which she eats.

And there's the baby. This tiny newborn stage is really sweet in some ways, really warm and lovey and sweet; but it's also really exasperating. I now remember why I had a hard time with this age the first time around. I mean, he just ate; how can he be hungry? My friend B calls it parasitic, and it is. It's also terribly monotonous. Asking Frances to name the colors of her blocks while the baby hangs off my boob makes things less boring for sure, but even with that it's hard to deny the monotony. I'm trying to remember remember remember that it's only a short period of time, and that later I will wish it had been longer. He is terribly sweet. And now he's sleeping so it's my time to do that too.

mush brain

The thing that keeps slipping off my radar while taking care of both kids is changing Frances' diaper. I check it to see if she's pooped, but if she hasn't it doesn't occur to me to change it, though it feels like I change the boy's diaper every half hour. You'd think this wouldn't be something complicated to follow through with. But I have to say, my brain in general is mush right now; I forget my thoughts mid-sentence, leave the house in slippers, search the house for the glasses on my head. Today I got about 2 hours of nap midday but I didn't feel any more rested this evening when Frances spit her potato soup into her hand and smeared it on the armchair. I suppose the real problem with that was that I was feeding her in the living room armchair in the first place. Some battles I just can't fight right now.

not so bad

Yesterday was my first day home by myself with both babes and I felt like a superhero. We went for a walk and then drove to the PetSmart for more catfood. I got both of them to sleep at the same time and I was able to nap for an hour and 1/2. Then our friend Vivian came over to play in the afternoon. It was a good day. Today was just as good. Lately Frances has been so difficult, but she was much better these last 2 days; I think she was missing my attention. She doesn't seem to have issues with the fact that I hold the baby a lot. In fact, she sort of takes it for granted. When someone else holds the baby she doesn't like it and insists that I take him back.

The hardest thing is definitely the sleep deprivation. Last night I think I got about 3 hours total; the baby was having a rough time of it. *Hopefully* Frances will keep up the stellar nap schedule she's got going right now and I'll be able to rest a bit in the afternoons. That, and I need to start going to bed earlier if the tiny one will let me.

To everyone whose emails and voicemails I need to return: I have no idea which ones those are and don't think I'm going to catch up on them anytime soon. Going to just have to start from scratch. Wish I could be more on top of that, but I can hardly find time to toast bread right now. I'll get a routine eventually and catch back up with everyone. Love!