Recap

A Sunday morning family hike in the chilly sunshine at Tyler Arboretum.

Ignore his bad tying-on job and the fact that his leg is strapped in wrong ;). This is what happens when it is cold and you are rushing.

Henry and Jake play as Jeannie and I have a grownup playdate for lunch on Friday.

I come home from the Dentist to find my Mom trying to entice Jake into taking a bottle....with chocolate syrup on the nipple.

My little helpers bake cookies with me on Thursday.

Recap.

Jules had her 3 year well visit last Friday. At 35 lbs and 38 inches she is big and tall and healthy.

Jake didn't fare so well in the ear-recheck department. After 3 different antibiotics, the ear infection that was discovered at his 9 month visit was no better. Very frustrating. I was shocked to hear our Dr. tell me to get him to the ENT.

A nice weekend of entertaining, hiking, and birthday partying left us all a bit exhausted.

I called the ENT (with CHOP) who we went to with Julia. Their next appointment was in late May. Or, wait, this morning at 7:50 am due to a cancellation that came in while I was calling.

I took it.

Little man and I were out the door early, to find that the newest abx has done nothing. Hearing tests revealed hearing loss (temporary and just due to the fluid in his ears). Dr. Tom recommended tubes. I had told him about our trip ~ he wanted to get it taken care of before we went so that we could leave a healthy and happier baby behind.

Enter another cancellation. Jake is due to get tubes on Monday AM.

Nate is out of town so I am flying solo in taking him for the surgery.

Stress level? Higher.

I'm not even sure that we are doing the right thing. I don't want a kid in pain. I don't want a kid on ABX, especially ones that aren't even WORKING! But I also don't want needless surgery.

Is Spring EVER coming to PA? The nights were 25 this weekend.

I'm in a tough spot. Being a Mom is harder for me at this particular moment in time than I remember it ever being. Hoping that we come through this particular spot stronger and healthier....and fast.

Totally loco.

I put away about 10 different bottles, 4 different types, and spent a bunch more money on new supplies to wage this war.

Look! He can DO IT! He CAN! He took it to go to bed two nights ago. He would not take it last night. He took it today in his highchair (from me no less!).

This is me, but without the giant penguin tears that are rolling down my face.

This is the single worst thing I have experienced in my life as a Mom.

By far. By so far, the last worst thing is like a dot in the horizon of things past. Julia's tubes? Cake. Kids 13 months apart? Breeze, compared to this. 2 day labor without drugs followed by a surgical birth? I would do it again in the blink of an eye if it would fix this. I would take this pain from my Jake in a second, could I.

This is torturous and evil and wrong and mean. This is a knife in my heart, a weight on my chest, bleach in my eyes. This is bad.

I am, apparently, heroin. When I pumped during Jake's nap and refused to nurse him upon his awakening, he writhed around on the bed as I read to Luke and Jules at nap time like the people I see in movies going through heroin withdraw. I cried. He cried. We cried.

I know he can do it, he did it two nights ago. He took one this afternoon, in his highchair, from me. I was ecstatic. Tonight? Lets just say I am sitting out on my front porch in a thunderstorm and 40 degree weather so that I can't hear him cry as Nate tries to lovingly feed my exhausted, hungry baby a bottle of MY milk. Not cows milk, MINE. The same shiz he drinks so willingly, so easily, from me. Why? Because of this vacation, which I am looking forward to, and need, and long for.

And I feel rage. Rage at him, in moments, for not doing what I know he can do, and what I know, KNOW will satisfy him and make him happy. Then I feel utter rage at myself for feeling rage at him, and for my selfishness. Jerkface me! I know, KNOW in my heart that I need him to do this. This is not a selfish whim. He is almost 10 months old. He can take a bottle, and he needs to. I then feel guilt ~ here I am with a baby who simply loves to nurse, and with a body that loves to nurse him without even a hint of a supply issue or thrush or mastitis or pain or ANYTHING, and I am doing this to him, to US, because I have a very strong belief that I need some freedom, and that my marriage needs and deserves baby free time to remain as wonderful and strong as it is. I feel resentment ~ I have gladly and lovingly given up my body for the past 5 years straight to bearing and nursing these children whom I love. Then I feel guilt. I have an abundance of milk frozen for him to drink. I have three gillion apparati available for him to drink it out of. And he won't. He just won't.

I have talked friends through this. I have given all of the advice that I myself have recently employed. And I owe every single one of them an apology ~ because I didn't understand. I thought I did, I honestly tried to, but I didn't. I had no idea. I had no idea how it tears your actual heart out of your body to hold your baby up against yourself and to deny them the one thing that you know that they want. I didn't understand how the phrase "he will take it when he is hungry" was utter, total drivel. Those words may make sense in ones mind, and may even be true for some kids, but are impossible to reconcile in ones heart. It goes against the grain of every single one of my parenting ideals and beliefs. It isn't like I'm depressed and befuddled trying to figure out what my baby wants, I know exactly, perfectly, what he wants. I just know what he, and I, NEED, more than his momentary want. So I am denying him, to satisfy me. And that makes me sick. It isn't supposed to be like this. It is a bottle, not poison. It is a bottle, it is my milk, he is a baby, and he is supposed to drink it. Right? Simple, eh? Not so much, with this baby, apparently. Three kids in, I felt like I knew it all about kids this age. I didn't. I don't.

I have given up seeing friends this week. I have pumped. I have nursed. I have wrangled three children. I have cooked, I have worked out, I have done laundry and cried. Cried a lot. I have scheduled my life and Jake's naps and Luke and Julia's life and my nights and my mornings around this. And it still isn't working like I need it to. It just isn't. And I am in the depths of despair. I'm unable to sleep well, which is totally unlike me. I wake up with my mind racing, formulating new plans, while simultaneously thinking about how on earth I am going to tell our families how to care for this darling, smart, loving, and stubborn baby. Don't even get me started on the thoughts surrounding Luke and Jules ~ the difference in care at this age ~ preschool drop off and pick up, ballet, tennis, naps, bedtimes, etc. Meals. Carseats. Clothes. My mental "list" for the collective child-watching-grandparents is growing longer and longer as I lay in bed at night, paralyzed. My job isn't that hard, to me, because I am used to it. My job, on paper, is almost impossible to someone stepping into it. It IS impossible to someone who isn't a lactating-me, if my baby won't take a bottle. My heart is breaking, and no one can make it better, except for this little bundle who is breaking my heart and who is utterly unable to be reasoned with. We are in this Mexican standoff of epic proportions. I have the breasts, he has the mouth. The bottle is between us. And someone has to win. I really, really NEED to win, because that means we all win. Me, Jake, Nate, Luke, Julia, and the Grandparents who are watching our kids while we go.

I called Jeannie bawling two days ago. I have cried to Jenny, to Erin, to Becca, to Nate. I have avoided the phone when I don't feel like crying about it. If I haven't called you back, I am sorry. I said that I was at the point where if someone told me that Jake would take a bottle if I quit nursing altogether, I would take it. I would take it. Just, and only, to know that he would be okay while I was away. Just to know that his caregivers could take care of him and know how, and not hate him at the end of their time together. And that makes me sick. It is like how I would feel if someone told me that they guaranteed could have a totally natural, beautiful, easy home birth (like I wanted) but instead chose a section (like I got). I think about all of my friends who have fought tooth and nail to nurse, and here I am willing to throw it all away for my own need for some space. And that makes me sick. Just sick. I always planned to let Jake self wean. I figured he would probably go till two or so, like his sister. I was cool with that. I never, ever anticipated this. I don't know what to do.

My mind knows that we will keep plugging away. That I will keep pumping, and we will keep trying, and we may all suffer a little bit. But my heart just keeps screaming: "you asshole". I need my mind to stop getting feedback from my heart, and I need Jake to get on board.

I'm sorry if I sound dramatic. I'm not going for effect. I feel dramatic. I am a type A+ control freak. I know it. I run a tight ship, I have to. And this is simply not fitting into my agenda. And I feel 100% thrown off kilter in every arena as a result. And that is making me stabby.

So when you go to bed tonight, picture a wild eyed crazed paper bag penguin, with giant penguin tears slipping one by one off of its Italian beak. And say a prayer, or send some good energy, or light a candle, kick a puppy, or do whatever brings you some personal comfort, in order to send me some. Because, like a giant sponge who is wrung utterly dry, I need it.

Three!

Julia practices being three at breakfast at Beeseckers Diner in Stroudsburg. Grandma being there made her birthday breakfast even more special :).

You get the idea.

She asks her brother to help her blow out her candles.

Julia carefully inspects Nana's nail polish, and even applies some of her lip gloss from the purse Grandma gave her for her birthday. I love this child. Not entirely sure how she came out of me (I don't wear nail polish or lip gloss and rarely carry a princess wand)...but I love her just as she is.

This is my girls half maniacal half joyous excited face. Glad that your birthday provided you a lot of excitement, big girl. Can't wait to see what your third year brings!

Baby girl! We have arrived at three.

This birthday post may come as more of a confessional post, but, hey, at least it is real. You have been "three" for, like, 2 months now. Ever since you started ballet, really. Ballet at ACAC is strictly limited to 3-14 year olds, but because you are always with your older brother, and because you have been potty trained for, like, ever, they made an exception and let you into the spring session a few months ahead of your birthday. Because of seeing you go to dance, everyone at the gym started assuming that you were three. Sooooo, because I have low tolerance for mandatory age requirements anyway (and obviously lots of grey ethical areas), I didn't correct anyone in their assumption. Is that lying? I lied. See, 3 is a really big deal at the gym. It gets you into Cooking Class, Gym Games, Creative Corner, Spider Mountain, and Jump Zone. Since we are at the gym about 5 days a week, this is a big deal for you. It opens your world to a ton of new things. So. Between starting dance, Luke's birthday, your birthday party, celebrating with Mom Mom and Pop Pop the Tuesday before, then with Grandma and Grandpa the Wednesday before....well, honestly your birthday was a little anti climatic. I guess what it mostly did was make me feel better when you held up three little fingers and proclaimed yourself three, because you really were. This will NOT, I repeat, NOT work at 21, there lovebug ;).

We got home from Boston on your birthday eve. It was an unseasonably beautiful day and you had spent all day outside playing around the (covered, wintery) pool with Grandma and Grandpa and Luke. We shared a birthday eve pizza dinner, then had a family style slumber party ~ Daddy, Grandma, you, Luke and I all laying around on sleeping bags and pillows watching Despicable Me together in Grandma and Grandpa's room. I loved cuddling up with you in our pajamas. The morning of your birthday was beautiful. We went to breakfast at Beeseckers, where you got treated to chocolate chip Mickey Mouse pancakes because it was your big day. Then we went straight over to Grace Park to visit Nana. I was so proud of you Julia ~ you walked right up to her (who you have not seen for a long time) and gave her a giant hug and a kiss and started showing her the contents of your purse. I know that you made her day. We stayed and visited with Nana for almost 2 hours, and it was just a treat to see the faces of the residents light up at the sight of three small kids. They loved you!

When I put you down for nap I started talking to you about how three years ago at that time you were still inside Mommies belly. You were about 2 hours from being the first baby that Mommy got to actually push out of her.....and I started crying. Shouldn't I be over this sort of birthday sentimentality by this point or something? All I could picture was that moment of birth, the first time I got to meet this lovely little person who is my daughter. I can't remember life without you, Jules!

We came home after naps, rather plan-less. After so many "special" birthday events I think that Dad and I were honestly a little "special-ed" out. No plan and no food at the house is not a good combo ~ so we tried like 4 different restaurants and found long, long waits at all of them. With three tired hungry kids, that was a no go. Soooooo ~ in a total stylistic disfunction, we ended up at "Winners Circle" with three kids, watched some basketball, and had dinner. You got a huge birthday brownie sunday ~ when the waitress was like 'Ohh! It's her BIRTHDAY!??! Yay! We will SING!!!" I was all "oh, no, thanks, that's okay!" because I didn't want the entire restaurant looking at us like ~ "seriously? These people take a 3 year old to a sports bar restaurant for her BIRTHDAY?" Shameful.

It was a really nice birthday, Jules, because we were all together all day. You are our little sunshine. I'm so proud of the funny, independent, whip smart little creature that you are. May this year bring you nothing but growth and joy and a wealth of new experiences. Love you, baby girl.

St Patties Day/Whirlwind

Whirlwind. I need to catch my breath.

Tuesday night we celebrated Julia's birthday with Mom Mom and Pop Pop here at our house. Wednesday I hurridly packed up 5 people and we headed up to Stroudsburg, while Nate attended a function at Villanova. He joined us late that night.

Thursday morning we took off early for Boston, with Jake, leaving Luke and Julia thrilled to have a few days of QT alone with Grandma and Grandpa. Jake was a champ in the car, we rolled into Boston about an hour before the kick off of this years NCAA Tourney, unpacked, and were comfortably seated in the awesome Champs in our hotel by tipoff of the first game. Nate was in heaven with a Guinness in his hand and giant flat screen TV's everywhere we looked. We crossed an item off of our Bucket List by spending a St. Patties day in Boston with friends. A sitter watched Jake as we went out and celebrated ~ it was not pretty ~ Jake and the bottle thing is NOT (I repeat, NOT) going well....but he eventually went to sleep and we had a great time out with our friends. I love Boston. If this global warming thing ever really goes into effect, I would move up there in a second. The winters would probably kill me, and the accents crack me up, but it is a great city.

Thursday was another beautiful and unseasonably warm day in Boston, we walked around, took in some brunch, and headed back to Stroudsburg by about 1:00. Made it home in time to have dinner with our kids (amazing how just 48 hours away from them made me so excited to see them again....and how huge they looked to me when we got back to them). We spent a nice night with the kids and Grandma and Grandpa, then were up bright and early to celebrate Julia's 3rd birthday!

More on the birthday in my next post, I'm behind and playing catch up here.

Traveling with a baby is a no brainer for us at this point. That said, if that pesky baby of ours does not learn to drink milk from a sippy cup or bottle in the next three weeks, our vacation could be a bloodbath of misery for the various family members watching the kids. Three weeks.

Total.Mothering.Failure

Oh Mah Gawd what is this stuff? Why the blue cup? How dare you try to trick me by filling the blue cup with the same stuff I can get straight from the warm tap. You are a terrible person. Get this poison away from me.

This is clearly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I hate you.

Me, the torturer, and my angry, sad, stubborn baby.

I am in crisis mode. I feel like I have failed Jake, and failed him terribly. My son won't drink from a bottle. He won't drink from a sippy cup. He won't drink from anything other than me. And it is all my fault.

I did everything "right"...at first anyway. I pumped, I introduced a bottle at three weeks, and we had a glorious summer where I could leave the little bugger for a few hours to play golf, or to go shopping, or whatever, and he would happily down breast milk from a bottle. Then, fall hit. Golf ended. Jake started going to bed at 6:30, which meant that I always just put him to bed before I went out. Suddenly, after months of not seeing a bottle, Jake acts as though it is some instrument of torture sent to kill him, rather than a simple vessel containing the same shiz he gets straight from me. Annoying, right? Except it is way beyond annoying, it is actually panic inducing. We are going away for 5 days in exactly 4 weeks, and I am in a cry-several-times-a-day-wake-at-4-am-with-gut-clenching-anxiety about my baby, and his refusal to drink the very stuff that sustains him.

I have tried 12 different kinds of sippy's. 5 different kinds of bottles. Nate has tried, Brooke has tried, we try to let him do it himself. Nada.

I feel like I am failing my baby. I don't know what to do. I want to stop crying about this.

Today I'm trying to not nurse him at all (I'm pumping every three hours), to let him fuss till he finally gives in and drinks something. This completely SUCKS. Like, is the suckiest of sucky things I have ever undertaken as a Mother. I know exactly, EXACTLY what my son wants, and I am denying him. And it is like a million tiny daggers stabbing into my heart. And I feel like it is all my fault. And no one gets it, but another nursing Mother. And I want to crawl into a hole. Shit.

Growth.

The Mom's parade while the kids chant "Hey Mister, give me some more!" and we drop candy and coins and trinkets into their bags. I wish someone had video of this. I'm laughing again just picturing the ridiculousness that was us.

Less than 1/2 of the group.

Pre dinner chaos. I think that this was the part where the super heros were battling the princesses. It was chaotic, and I was proud to see some of our boys in princess regalia, and some of our girls being super heros.

Luke takes being Batman very, very seriously.

Playroom fun at the onset of the evening.

Certain events just show me how much life is changing. We had an impromptu Fat Tuesday party here yesterday. I had offered up the house for an early evening/dinner playgroup as I knew Nate was out of town, and I was going to order some pizza and keep it easy and see who was free. With our kids school schedules all over the place, so many younger siblings who have morning naps to consider, and so many husbands who travel or work late, afternoon/dinner playgroups have sprung up left and right. This is like our third or fourth get together in the past week.

When I realized that it was Fat Tuesday, and started getting messages from my friend Erin about bringing beads and parading and whatnot.....I decided to throw a little party. So in lieu of pizza, I was going to make jambalaya. Never made it before, but hey, I like to cook, right? So, on Monday night I looked at several recipes on line, got the general gist of it, and in true 'Melissa hates to be told what to do recipes are so bossy' form, I decided to wing it. I straightened up Monday night while the bigs watched a show. Dropped them off at preschool on Tuesday morning, and went straight to the store with Jake. Got what I figured might work. Got home, put everything away, and ran, with Jake crying much of the way (super not fun). Picked up the bigs, chopped the billion things that needed chopping while all three played hotwheels. Got them all off to bed, and cooked while I played on the internet. By 3:30 PM, a jambalaya was created, the house was clean, and we were ready. By 4:30, 25 ish people were here.

I marvel at the way that this same group of women was childless just over 4 years ago, and last night, with just 7 of the total 14 or so playgroup members here, there were 16 children in my house. It is LOUD! There is running! There is super hero talk, and all sorts of strange things that we never envisioned when we used to sit around with our newborn babies on little blankets on the floor, tentatively bonding and sharing over birth stories and nursing information and fears about giving up our careers. Now, 4 short (yet prolific) years later, we already are seasoned veterans.

I will never forget my first drive to the playgroup we created out of the BMHBF group. I was nervous like it was a first date! I can't forget the first time I hosted ~ our 110 year old house was too small to host all of us, so we headed to a park at the end of my block. I was a nervous wreck again ~ I think that I bought drinks and snacks to feed 100, not the 10 that we were that day. Now? Now, the floor may only be semi-clean, the snacks may be random and insufficient, the jambalaya may be improvised, Jake may have teething snot running down his face.....but none of it matters. I know that my friends know where the glasses are, they know what to bring, they know how imperfect I am, and we love one another just as we are.

Community is necessary as a Mom. Having friends who love me, who love my kids, who can laugh and who can cry with me is what keeps me sane, many days. I love this process of becoming okay with showing and sharing all of my many imperfections, and knowing that we are all so different....yet so very much the same as we share this 'motherhood' gig.

Birthday Party!

The kids had their very first (non family) birthday party this weekend at ACAC. It was a blast. They spent almost 2 hours playing in the pool, then had some pizza and cake with their friends. I loved seeing them play with kids who they "met" as days old infants at the breast feeding support group at Bryn Mawr hospital! A good time was had by all, and I am thrilled that it went off without a hitch. Loved seeing my little best friends blowing out their candles together, so happy and content to share the spotlight on their big day. Luke and Jules ~ I love you, monkeys ~ thanks for making your first birthday party so much fun!

Who they are.

Luke is obsessed with sports. He frequently comes downstairs and asks to watch basketball, or football, or whatever we are watching, in lieu of the two cartoons that L&J watch OnDemand most nights. He loves to play basketball, he asks every day "Mom, is today tennis?", and he is chomping at the bit to get outside and play with his new soccer goals. He tells me every day "Mom, I am going to be the goalie and you will NEVER be able to score on me!". Just you wait, kid.

Julia and her "lists". I'm beginning to think that she is either a spy, sent to investigate us, or a budding artist or journalist. She loves to trot around with this little notebook and a ball point pen, scratching away all day long on every single page. At the dinner table, she proudly turns each page, telling us what that picture is of. She says things like "This is a BEAUTIFUL purple butterfly!!" Next page. "This is a BEAUTIFUL RED butterfly!". Mind you, they are all drawn in ball point pen, and are all the same color!

Jake, he just smiles and drools and claps and lavishes kisses upon us.

I love babies. Love them! In fact, probably the only thing I love as much as I love babies, is the honor of watching babies turn into actual people, like, with interests! What a privilege this whole trip is! I had no idea how the challenge of 3 would turn into the hilarity of 4. I'm loving this phase. I think that Jules may skip three and go straight to four with her brother. Here's hoping, anyway.

It's been a good week.

We just found out that after two years on the waiting list, we finally got into our CSA of choice!

Nate was awarded three big and important contracts in three days, and I got 7 loads of laundry actually PUT AWAY (this is an epic task ~ and yes, it shows the mundane side of Motherhood and the small victories that happen....but with three young kids the task of putting the laundry away in their drawers can be quite daunting. There is no way to do it at nap time or after bedtime....and with three critters all up in your junk awake time is not the easiest either!) Thanks Mom Mom and Pop Pop for taking the bigs to the movies and dinner tonight so that I could get my laundry done, food shop for the week, pick up gifts for upcoming parties, and enjoy some quality time and a hot sushi date with Jake. The errands are done, the workouts happened, and a whirlwind three days of social activity and gym time lay ahead of us.

It is 8:35 and I am in bed. Life is good. There are moments where life just feels so chaotic ~ where I am up at 3 am with lists of things that I have to do running through my head and a knot in my stomach. Then there are moments like this one, where victories large and small are won, and three clean, content kids are sleeping peacefully in bed and I know that for today at least, I did my best, and my best was good enough. Night, world.