Chicago Moms Blog

Un-Romantic Texter

What did we ever do without our cell phones?  How did we check our e-mail at the red light or look up that recipe ingredient while at the grocery store or write clever Facebook status updates as soon as they come to our minds so as not to forget them later (maybe that is just me)?  Sometimes I think I would be better off without it, more focused maybe.  But then it makes that cute little "ding" that I have a text or an e-mail and my obsession continues. 

One of the greatest things about my phone is the ability to send quick little text messages to friends or Hubby or my family.  This may seem odd, but I am actually NOT a phone person in general.  I do not like to talk on the phone. I get social-anxiety in a major way when presented with having to make or answer a phone call.  Which is why I SO love texting.  Short, to the point, and no anxiety about sounding dorky on the phone.  It is so convenient to be able to send Hubby a quick reminder of X-Y-Z or jot a quick note to my sis or a friend about whatever.  I am not one of those super-cool texters that knows all the short-cuts and abbreviations, though.  I spell things out and try my best to convey mood and personality through my texts, especially when texting with my Hubby. 

Do You Do the Gym?

I have never really been one of those girls who loves exercise. I cheered a bit in jr. high and high school but was never really much of an athlete. My dad, a big-time runner and gym-goer, tried to get me fired up about some sort of sport when I was younger. He tried to teach me tennis (which was pretty fun) and competitive swimming (which I stunk at) and even softball (which was ok but I was just not cut out for it). At different times in my life, I have gotten on these health-kicks where I will join a gym and go semi-regularly for a few months and then slowly get tired of it and stop going. After a personal tragedy several years ago, I took a couple yoga and Pilates classes and fell in love with it. I guess that is the thing that I stuck with the longest and actually kinda miss. Yeah, I miss it because that too eventually worked it's way out of my daily/weekly schedule.

I totally see the benefits to exercise. I am a nurse, so I know how it is good for your body and your overall health. I admire people who get themselves to the gym daily or weekly and take care of themselves. And as my youngest starts to breastfeed less and I continue to eat the calories of a breastfeeding mama, I will probably start seeing some motivation to exercise when I try to fit into my favorite jeans or when I look at our family pictures this fall. But I still don't think I'll be hitting the gym.

Learning to Love the Long Days

A friend of mine just put the following quote as her Facebook status:  "The days are long, but the years are short."  I have been thinking about this so much lately.  About how easy it is to always just try to get through the day. That is not how I want my life to be. 

My older son started preschool this week.  He was a little nervous about mommy not being able to stay with him.  But when it came time for the leaving, he did great and I sat in the parking lot and cried for a few minutes.  I can't believe we are already here.  He is already starting school, starting the process of leaving me.  Also, my little guy just turned one and looks less and less like a baby everyday.  He is walking and talking and expressing his opinion.  He just started sleeping through the night in his own crib (gasp!).  He is turning into a little boy.  And before I know it, I will be dropping him off at school and setting him too on this path that ends in leaving me. 

From Baby to Boy

It is a surreal thing, watching your children grow up.  One day they are these tiny little beings, totally dependent on you for everything.  Then, in the blink of an eye, they are taking first steps and saying words and exercising their little wills.  It is also a bittersweet thing, this whole idea of growing up.  My baby turns one next week.  And while part of me is anxious to start getting more sleep and be able to easier do more things with my boys together, I am feeling a bit conflicted about my baby becoming a little boy. 

I am not one of those mothers whose babies start sleeping through the night at a couple months old.  Neither of my boys have been great sleepers unless they are in mama's bed all snuggled up with me.  And while I certainly have moments that I long for some "alone" sleep (aka-sleep where I can pull the covers up to my chin and curl up in a ball with no one touching me or sucking on anything), I love that my boys co-sleep with us and love to snuggle in our bed.  There will be plenty of years for all of us to sleep alone.  I want to cherish these cuddles while I can, before they both become too much boy and not enough baby. 

This is most likely my last baby.  Pregnancy and all that accompanies it is a complicated thing for me.  And although I LOVE being pregnant, I know that I will better be able to be the mom these boys need if I don't add anymore kids to the mix.  Knowing this makes me even more aware of the need to drink in these last few days of his "baby-ness." You know, these days where he still wants to be held (all the time!!) and he still chooses Mama over anyone else.  These days when just the sound of my footsteps coming up the stairs can quiet his lonely cry.  These moments when his head melts into my shoulder and he instantly falls back asleep just knowing that I am near and he is with me. 

My baby growing up means a little more freedom for me.   Maybe a few more solo-nights out or the ability to get more done in the week.  It means the boys will start to better entertain each other leaving mommy free to check my e-mail or tweet with my pals.  Maybe I will even get to go to the bathroom alone with the door closed or eat an entire meal without interruption and drama. 
Those all sound really nice.  But the flip side of this is that I lose the nighttime snuggles and the sweet smell of his baby head resting against my chest.  We will eventually trade the sling and the nursing for talks about how school was and what he did that day with his friends. 

I know I can't stop him from growing up.  He is becoming a little boy right before my eyes.  I think I'll  just try to hold on to my baby just a little longer. 

An original Chicago Moms Blog post.  Farrah also blogs about her babies little boys at BabyLove Slings.  She can also be found building mommy-community at Dupage Mamas.

3 is the New 2

Whoever it was that coined the phrase "terrible twos" committed a huge injustice to parents, in my opinion.  You brace yourself starting with the "I can move independently and thus get into trouble" stage knowing that the naughtiness and whining and exercises of free-will will continue but hopefully peak through that second birthday.  Once you can see that third birthday on the horizon, relief from the tantrums and stubbornness is in sight.  Right?  Not in my house. 

What is the phrase for three?  Is there one?  Can I suggest "Talk-back Threes" or maybe "Throwdown Threes?"  After only three months experience with age three, I would gladly go back to two.  My 3 yr.old son is stubborn, constantly testing the limits, playing Hubby and I against each other.  He is smart enough to know my emotional buttons and is not afraid to push them.  He has the vocabulary of a middle-schooler and never stops talking.  He has very well defined ideas of how he thinks the day should go and what everyone around him should be doing and God-forbid if we should stray.  The whining, the "No, I will NOT do that!", the shaking his finger at me as if I was in need of a lesson or two.  I didn't have to deal with any of this at two.  He has always been a smart kid and fairly whiny at times.  But age three has taken the defiant whining to a whole new level. 

My Adventures in Bird Rescue

Today started just like any other Monday- a sleepy wake up at around 5:30am after being up most of the night with one boy or the other.  Normally, I would turn to my good friend Playhouse Disney to catch a few extra z's but we are trying to really limit our 3yr old's TV intake to see if that helps with the daily stubbornness.  So instead we all get up and have breakfast and start our day.  After a little weeding and harvesting some lettuce from our garden, we decided to take a morning walk before the heat of the day banished us to the air conditioning.  We walked to our favorite spot, a little pond about a half mile or so from our townhouse.  There is a mama goose who had babies a few weeks ago and some newborn ducklings that my boys can't get enough of. 

But today, we saw something wrong with one the goslings.  It had some sort of plastic straw lodged in his back and was having a lot of trouble walking and swimming.  It was obvious that this little guy was having a really rough time.  It broke my heart to see him struggling.  He was falling over, swimming sideways, unable to get out of the water.  We fed him some bread and watched him for a few minutes and then turned to head home.  But something in me just didn't feel right.  I have to help this little goose.  He is really hurting.  Oh, someone else will help him.  I have a lot to do.  I have my two boys and my dog with me.  But what if everyone thinks like this and no one helps this poor baby?  I can't live with that....

The Buck Stops Here... Always

Motherhood is rewarding...it really is. Those adorable hugs, the big eyes that drip with sweetness as they say something cute, the first time they say "Thank You" without prodding,... Having two boys that are three years and 9months, I know there are many more rewarding moments to come. But, for every one perfect moment where all your hard mothering work seems worth the struggle, there are dozens of hard moments that cause us to question our purpose and skill and ask if our children will one day need therapy because of us (maybe I'm the only one who asks that question).

Through the process of figuring out the balance of parenting over the last three years, one thing has become painfully clear: the buck always stops here.

I am not saying I don't have help.  I certainly do at times.  After he recovered from initial "new-daddy-shock" and started to feel more comfortable in his role, hubby is very helpful and willing to step in whenever needed. And I always get some breaks when I am visiting my parents. But even during those times, it comes back to choice. Others have it, mothers do not. I am making some gross generalizations here that obviously do not apply in all cases. But, this has been my experience so far and it seems to be the experience of many other mothers too.

My Tender Bully

Today has been one of those days where I feel like I have no idea what I am doing in regards to motherhood. The toddler woke up at 5 and was up for good. Which meant all of us were up. I have been fighting a sinus infection and ear infection and one of the most horrible headaches of my life. The baby took a decent morning nap which gave Toddler and I some good time to play together. But, by 10:30 I was out of steam and the day was just getting going.

I'm sure it goes with the territory of having 2 boys, or maybe just 2 kids, but the Toddler is just so rough with the Baby. I seriously hear myself a hundred times a day telling him "Be Gentle!" or "Don't throw things!" or "Do NOT kick your brother" or "Why did you just knock him over?" Sometimes it is overzealous affection. He loves to lay on top of him or hug him a little too vigorously. Other times, it is because the Baby was simply looking at his cars or "in the way."

On days like today, I just can't deal. I get SO TIRED of correcting him. I do try to let them "be boys" and be a little rough and tumble. I can't police every moment and I know that is part of being brothers and being boys. I want them to be close and have fun together and I know that sometimes Toddler is really just trying to engage with Baby and he just doesn't know his own strength. But, that is not really the problem.

The real problem is me.

The Seven Year Itch

Growing up as a military kid, I never lived more than 2-3years in the same place. It was constant change, constant adjustment. Just when I would start to feel settled, it would be time to move on. But lately, I find myself with the opposite predicament. I have the itch....

Not THE itch, the one you need a cream for or the one that comes from being married for seven years (I have been married for almost 10!!-Wow!). No, my seven year itch is all about location.

As Hubby and I sat in the parking lot of our old college dorm recently with our third son sleeping quietly in the backseat, we reminisced about those good ol' college days and how life has changed so much since then. Life was so simple then. Although if you'd have asked me during those years, I would have told you it was complicated. At the very least, it was a stepping stone, a temporary arrangement. It was for everyone. No one is a professional college student. You have to move on eventually, either to a career or further more specialized education or raising a family. College, for me, was the longest I had ever lived in one place. And despite a short break living in Baltimore for nursing school, we are still here. Not only that, we live close enough that we can leave the parking lot of our old dorm and be home 5minutes later.

I want to move. I have the itch....a seven year itch.

Deciding on Preschool

As moms we are constantly faced with decisions in regards to raising our kids.  Should I let them cry? What should I feed them for lunch?  How will I discipline today's naughtiness?  Big decisions, and small ones too... but LOTS of decisions.  Having to choose what to feed my 3yr. old for lunch or if we should go to the zoo, those are the easy decisions.  They don't really have any lasting impact.  But then there are the decisions that have further reaching effects.  I am not talking about discipline or if I should go back to work or where we should live or if we should have more children (although those are all questions with long reaching consequences).  No, I am talking about a topic that has proved much harder for me to decipher the right path.... PRESCHOOL IN CHICAGO!!

This extremely frustrating journey began in January with our first open house visit.  Going into the situation, I assumed that this would be the preschool we would choose.  I never even thought we would look anywhere else.  The visit went well, I liked the teacher and the space and the...  whatever.  But something told me I needed to look around to be sure this was the right place.  And that is what started it all.  Since then, I have visited about 10 different preschools and am miles farther from making this decision than when I stepped foot in that first preschool three months ago.  

Do ALL moms fret over this decision or is there something pathological about my inability to choose?