5 Things I Believe

5 Things I Believe

I believe that I am better mom working even if I am barely treading water.

My head is currently bobbing up and down in a current of water that seems at times to be so fierce that there have been moments this week when I am ready to concede and drown and at other times is so calm and normal that I feel like I am floating. My eyes begging to close as the salt of stress and fatigue wears on me. One week back in the grind of an ocean I call life. Learning how to balance and stay afloat in water is so hard to do, but once you master it, you don’t forget it. We are finding a groove, a routine, how to float. Juggling dinner, bottles, baths, dishes, preparations for the next day and babies.

I believe that it is quality of the time that you spend with your kids that counts, not the quantity.

I sink into our glider, I watch Cate as her eyes meet mine and her hand grips my finger tightly and fiercely. I find myself quickly seeking the steady rocking motion that calms her knowing it calms me too. I feel my shoulders loosen and allow myself to focus on her. Only her as she flits her eyes eventually sleeping soundly as I rock.

I turn on our Christmas station in our kitchen and pick Brady up. I dance with him and sing the lyrics loudly. Spinning him around until he squeals in delight, hugging him close to me so I can absorb his energy, his curiosity and pure delight in simple things. He asks for more and I oblige so we can enjoy this moment.

I believe that when parents work together, life is simpler.

I instinctively get Brady’s pajamas out and his clothes for the next day. Glenn gets Cate’s bottle warm without having to be asked as the medicine is dispensed in her mouth. One misstep and the baby is screaming, a the 2 year old is begging to wear “Buzz” for the third time in one week. But we force each other to stay afloat. Not allowing each other to sink, supporting each other “by taking one for the team”. He eats with Brady, takes his second shower of the day with Brady to not disturb Cate, and doesn’t question me at 8:30 when I head to bed. We may not communicate out loud frequently or have stimulating conversations, but this week we are closer than we have every been. We know each other’s eyes. We each have our jobs. I make bottles, Glenn puts Brady to bed. We collapse on the couch at the end of the night. Our eyes tired, our backs sore and ready for bed. Yet, we gear up to do it all again because we are trying to stay afloat.

I believe that watching my children interact are moments that will always bring tears to my eyes.

Cate was fussing on Sunday night as I was trying to get dinner on the table. I just needed BOTH hands for three minutes and she was crying in her chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Brady sauntered in the room with something he painted earlier that day. “Bop (Stop in toddler speak) Bop Cate. Bop cry Cate. Bear. Here.”He throws the picture at her and begins to tickle her toes.

I walk in to Young Preschool room at daycare and we got through the motions. Coat and hat on and then say our goodbyes. We walk out to where Cate’s car seat is and he pulls down the cover. “Hi Cate” as he bends down and rubs her head. Pushing her stroller out of daycare with a protectiveness and sense of pride that I can't explain.

Cate was on her activity mat last weekend. She was contently staring at things but eventually wanted to be picked up. I was in the office sifting through the mail. I watch him. One car. Then the second. Then a third. He gave her every car he was playing with and then laid his head next to hers.

I believe that my family is what makes life worth living.

Linking up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

The Time Tree

We have this maple tree in our back yard. When we moved in to our house in April of 2009, we were struck by how mature it was. How tall it was and long it’s branches were.

It’s become a symbol of time for us since we moved in.

We love it in the summer. It provides the shade that is necessary in the sweltering Chicago summers so Brady can play outside. Its long sturdy branches are strong enough to hold a swing that Brady migrates to the minute we go outside. The shade provides our back deck with a place to enjoy the cool breeze as we sit drinking beer, reading a good book and watching as Brady explores the yard.

And the colors…the tree is magical. It transforms overnight. Going from green, to gold to this beautiful red that screams fall is here. I swear it happened this weekend. One day it was gold and green and the next morning it was full of beautiful dark red leaves.

Those leaves …they have to be raked. The first fall, I distinctly remember my mama going outside and giving a landscaping company cleaning up leaves next door $50 to do ours. We had a two week old. We had a new business. We had too much on our plates to deal with the leaves.

Last year, we raked. A lot of us raked. Family came a bit early and the day of Brady’s 1^st Birthday party, Glenn and I and my parents were out there raking the leaves. We did it because we had too…so people had a place to stand, kids a place to run and so that our backyard could be a social spot.

This year was different. It was about my boys and the leaves. The boys raked on Saturday and by Sunday it was like it never happened. This cycle goes on wash, lather, rinse, repeat daily for weeks. Some days we shake our heads as we walk from our garage in to our house not believing that this one tree has this many leaves and that the cycle must be repeated. Some days I watch as the wind from the east blows the leaves in to tour neighbor’s yard leaving a few less for us to rake.

But truth be told, this old tree means a lot to me. Those leaves are helping me make memories.

I watch as a two year old gets to be like dad and rake, even if he is undoing piles already created.

I capture him after he jumped in to the pile because that it what you are supposed to do.

And with every handful he scoops in to the bag, I watch as this tree symbolizes another year and time that is passing by.

Cate {What a Difference a Month Makes} 2 Months

Our sweet Cate is two months old.

Hello November! How did you sneak up on us so fast?

Hello my return to work at the end of this month! {Insert panic here}

Let me tell you what I know about her after another month… she is a mama’s girl. She wants her mama ALL THE TIME. I would be lying if I tell you I don’t love it. Sweet thing just wants to view the world off my shoulder. Sure there are moments, I would like have some else hold her, soothe her and console her but most times I cherish the quiet understanding we have of one another as we rock on the glider or walk the neighborhood.

Girlfriend will smile…but it takes some work. She is a serious baby- kind of like her mama, so I can’t be upset that it takes a lot to get her to grin. Those smiles are coming with more frequency and I think she is stingy with them because when she does smile, which is hard to capture, but it is huge!

All things considered she is a great sleeper. (Please don’t let this statement jinx it). She will take a bottle around 9:00 and be in her crib by 9:30. (Thanks to her reflux, feeding takes on a whole new amount of time). She will usually sleep until 3:30. She eats QUICKLY and goes back to sleep until 6:30 or so. One more quick feeding and she is back to sleep until 9:00am. I am so grateful that she is such a good sleeper but I have to admit I find myself rocking her a little longer each night because I know those middle of the night moments will be ending so soon.

We are “managing” the reflux the best we can. People who call reflux the devil’s serum aren’t kidding. If you have or ever had a child with reflux, I get what you were trying to tell me. It is agonizing and painful. It is so hard to watch her try to swallow, scream in pain and be upset. The gurgling in her belly makes my stomach hurt.

Her hips...well they are still loose. More on that at four months. The initial ultrasound showed the bone length was normal but the spacing abnormal so we wait...

The blocked tear duct requires some massaging. We hope it will correct itself or she will have to have a surgery to fix it.

The Stats

Weight- 11 pounds 9 ounces (75%)

Height- 22 ¾ inches (75%)

T-W-O

Happy Birthday to my blue eyed, happy, stubborn, emotional, curious, full of energy, fiercely independent boy!

I am proud to be your mama and watch you grow. It seems like yesterday you were born and we were basking the newness of being parents.

Today you are 36 inches and 35 pounds of perfection in our eyes.

I may be a week late posting this, but know that I have been soaking you up, enjoying you and celebrating you!

Our People- Support

Almost seven weeks in with a newborn and I am struck by something that I can’t get out of my head. I can’t find a catchy title for this post. I can’t find something to relate it to so that people understand. All I can do is write about it.

My ma’s biggest concern about where we live is that we don’t have in her words a “support system”. Neighbors that we trust in our time of need, people a stone’s throw away who can come over in a moment’s notice to hold a baby or someone one their way to Target who knocks on our door to see if we need anything.

I get it.

She is right.

We don’t.

We live on a great block in “the city”. We live in an area where people want to live. We are the newest members of our block with the exception of a few rentals. Most of the people on our street have lived here a long time. They are friendly with each other and some are actually very close. But we don’t fit in to this street community. I could attribute it to a lot of things. We are two-parent working household. Both of us work in the suburbs adding more minutes we are away from home. Our kids are two of the youngest on the block. Our opportunity to get to know our neighbors is slim and our time at home during the week even slimmer.

Yet, the past two weeks I have been constantly reminded by the fact that we do have a support system. We have people who care. We have friends that are more like family.

A Thursday morning visit in pajamas with friend I was initially introduced to thru my husband. She came over and let me cry as I told her how hard it has been. Starbucks in hand she sat on the couch, listened, never past judgment and offered support and reassurance as tears rolled down my cheeks. She is the reason we pushed going to the pediatrician three times in one week and why Cate is now on Zantac for reflux. She watched me cry and she never made me feel inadequate.

A phone call from a childhood friend. It started with a simple, “How are you? I am worried about you.” It continued with a honest, real, and emotional conversation telling me I am not alone. She asked what she could do and told me of her own struggles. Something so difficult to share but paving the way for me to tell her my fears. She reminded me that years have nothing on true friends.

A Friday night visit from one of my best friends. She was hoping for dinner and drinks and instead she walked in, sat down on the couch, had a beer with me and just listened. She calls me constantly just to see how I am and to tell me she is thinking about me. She offers advice, laughs with me and even says prayers when we needed them most.

A Wednesday visit from my other best friend. She is a new mama herself and has had more than enough going on in her life yet, she came, she listened, she laughed with me and she helped me.

A package in the mail all the way from Alabama with pink knit hats and pink knit botties for Cate. Sent from a friend from college whose gesture and short note reminds me that community stretches years and that she is still here.

An unexpected Friday visit from both of our siblings to take a walk to Starbucks, play with Brady and with arms willing to hold our sweet baby Cate. They are blood and they are good to us.

A sibling and his wife willing to drive an hour to spend an hour at a pumpkin patch. Knowing we couldn't do it alone and realizing that we needed their help so that our oldest could have some fun.

A husband who knows me as well as anyone. He knows when to push me to "buck up" and when to take his arms and wrap them around me. He levels me, steadies me, and is the voice of reason when I think we are in over our heads.

Community. I got it.

And ma, you are one of the most important parts of it.

Community, we have it. And I am thankful for it.

Image via pinterest

So You Want to Know About Cate- 1 Month

One Month.

Our sweet, yet pretty feisty, baby girl is one month old.

To say that this month has been a whirlwind is an understatement. Maybe it's because we have a toddler who keeps us on our toes and doesn't let us catch our breath. Or maybe it's because it is the second time around so we know some of things to expect. I literally bounce between feeling like she has been here forever to feeling like we just brought her home. Or maybe it is just purely the fatigue has put me in a fog that doesn't allow me to think completely clear about the concept of time.

She is loud.

She is skinny-legged.
She wiggles.
She knows what she wants and demands it instantly.
She snuggles and cudddles
She sleeps like a champion.
She does everything with a purpose...from crying, to wiggling to pooping...the girl does everything at 150%.

I have tried so hard not to compare my kids in these first few weeks. Not to talk about which one did what when but I have to be honest when I say compared to Brady, she is a hard baby. She has given us a run for our money. It doesn't mean we love her less, it just means she needs us more than Brady ever did. And it's hard. It's been hard on my marriage if I am being completely honest. It's hard because I can't leave her to get my haircut or have dinner with my husband.

It is like clockwork. The minute we get Brady in bed, the screaming begins. It wears on you. It digs on you soul usually bringing me to tears. It frustrates the living hell out of me because I am fixer. I want to fix problems and this isn't one I can so far. It's hard to hear your baby cry. We play pass the baby for the couple of hours before we go to bed. We try to soothe her yet nothing seems to work.

It's hard to sit in the pediatrician's office and hear them use the words: fussy, colic, reflux, gastro-intestinal and high needs and not to feel sorry for yourself. And, those are the tip of the iceberg. And I am not even sure I believe any of them define my daughter at this point in time.

So, we will continue to snuggle her. We will continue to love on her and will keep moving forward. She is one month old and I love her more than she will ever know.

Stats:
Weight- 9 pounds 13 ounces
Length- 22 3/4 inches