one and a half years

i know we're not all at exactly the same point, but most of our kids are turning 1.5 around now. it's amazing, isn't it, how much they and we change in 1.5 years? as usual i have nothing profound to say, but i am just bowled over.

And It's Only 7 am!

This morning, Gavin:

1. woke up at 5:00 am
2. woke up with a big bruise on his face from hitting it on the crib rails.
3. has had a bit of "intestinal distress", and managed to poop through his p.j.'s for the second morning in a row.
4. is suddenly VERY mobile, as if overnight, and is crawling all over my not-quite-babyproofed kitchen.
5. is cranky because of waking up so early, the big bruise on his face, having diaper rash from all the pooping, and being carried out of the kitchen.

Is there such a thing as a Coffee I.V.? Or at least a Coffee Patch?

This I Believe

This is what I submitted to NPR's "This I Believe":

I believe that motherhood is so much harder than you can understand until you become a mother for the first time. No amount of babysitting or other experience prepares you for the real thing. I believe that hormones push us to reproduce. The same hormones later make us forget how difficult it all was, particularly at the beginning. Years later, all the older generation remembers is how easy and rewarding it all was. Of course being a parent is the most rewarding thing I ever expect to experience – seeing your child smile for the first time, start laughing, learn to sit, crawl and walk. How I enjoy hearing my 3 ½ year old son tell me about his day, tell stories, sing, try to teach me what he learned at daycare that day…

I think it’s important to share the beautiful things to look forward to when having children, but more so I believe it’s important to share how difficult it all is at the beginning. Maybe then mothers would share their difficulties more freely, feel less alone, and reach out for more help. And maybe, just maybe, it won’t be quite as difficult.

I Found the BEST Revenge

Thank you to all the mommmas who commented on my extremely depressing entry of late. Thanks to whomever rounded them all up, too!

It was nice to read all of your thoughts. :) It made me feel less lonely about it.
Of course it helped just to write all of that down...so I've had better moments with Owen since then. I've even started a new mantra:

"I'm bigger than you. I'm a lot older than you. Don't mess with me kid." It's rather empowering when staring down the monster in my toddler. :)

I've also found tremendous joy in exacting my revenge through tickling! If I tickle him until he falls down laughing and snorting!!!! I somehow feel amazingly refreshed and satisfied.

The next time you are feeling fairly full of rage with your toddler...try this tickle revenge. It's sweet justice.

I would like to see your scrubbing bubbles and Benny HIll and raise you one plastic bag over my son's head.

So that is what those warning are about?!? As Mike keeps saying "we were right there and it was only for a second," YEAH but Oren still managed to take the contents out of a plastic bag and put it over his head. I ran to him and ripped it off his head and out of his hands.... OY!

Oh and just for fun, Oren took his wet hands and tried to pull out a cord from an electrical outlet.

He laughs in my face when I try to teach/set boundaries/repremand him!

Just sharing....

Carly

End of the Happy Phase

For awhile there, I was thinking that I could go ahead and get rid of this blog. I was feeling pretty great about being a mom...about my year-old son...who seemed to be doing well. Our transition to day care went well. A walking and talking Owen was certainly much easier to deal with than the crying infant Owen.

Today marks the exasperation point of what has been building for about 2 months or so. Today, Owen bit the hell out of EJ, a 9 month old who is quite innocent in the adventure..just sitting there, playing with a toy.

Owen grabs EJ faster than lightening, pulls his head to his mouth and chomps down with 7 1/2 of his 11 teeth. He left a fairly ugly and certainly large red mark on EJ..complete with blood bruising..but managed not to break the skin.

I was mortified, embarrassed, sad...just beside myself. It's not the first time he's done it.
This is my son.
This isn't anyone else's son.

Lately, he flings his body all over the place in anger..or defiance...or willfulness. He seems much more like a 2 year old..complete with tempertantrums. When he doesn't like something, he becomes a ragdoll...falls to the floor, or when carrying him it becomes like holding jello...arching his back, shrieking, wailing, and in general a positive joy to be around. But only for me or my husband. I actually enjoy taking him to daycare..I'm free and ....he behaves "fine" for them. I hate that.

And what's been building over the last 2 months is my aggravation and hatred of his acts. I can't seemingly control them, and consequently, I feel out-of-control and resentful. All over again. It likens to my experience with my colicky, whiny, crying baby boy of 6 months ago. Those were the days when I would put the screaming monster in his crib..let him cry for what seemed like hours...and was probably only 45 minutes while I showered and tried to wash motherhood away.

It's back. That feeling of needing to escape this thing..this monster...this crazily independent little boy who exasperates me to no end...and makes me wish I had some other kind of life. Motherless is the appealing version. Free.

I feel badly for all of this. Guilt streaks through me...constantly. I am not the Mom wishing for another baby...ready to try for #2. I am the mom who wonders why I ever wanted kids in the first place...wondering "why me?" far too often. I am the mom who experiences dread when he wakes up from a nap. I am the mom who wonders: "What's wrong with me? Why don't I love this? Why is this so hard for me and easy for others? Why is he like this? What do I do about this now?" Today I win the Mother-of-the-Year award for being alone in this realm...being afraid to verbalize that I'm not feeling very good at being a mom...that maybe I hate it.