Taking “my” time

Feb 4, 2016 by

Lenny’s birthday was last month, and The Two’s have officially hit us full-force. He is discovering his two-year old world faster and more thoroughly than before and, along with an exploding vocabulary and personality, Lenny has fully transitioned from baby to toddler. With these new developments, Lenny is also more independent than ever before, and the words “no,” “mine,” and even a vehement, stubborn “yes” are commonly heard in our household.

While his world is expanding with the my’s, mine’s and my-do-it’s, mine has seemed to shrink a little. Simple tasks take much longer with an eager little helper. Tantrums are more frequent and exhausting if, heaven forbid, my husband and I are the ones to say “no.” I even have to share the food off of my dinner plate with a curious toddler most nights. So, I’m going to take a page from Lenny’s book and reclaim something that is mine. “My” time.

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Frazzled mom moments

Jan 7, 2016 by

Frazzled mom moment #35979573: I dropped my son off at daycare with my pants unzipped and unbuttoned. I had absolutely no idea until I was getting back into the car.

Frazzled mom moment #35979574: I did it again a few weeks later.

Frazzled mom moment #86940385: I can somehow remember to pack 3 lunch containers, 3 sippy cups, a sheet, a blanket, winter coat, hat, gloves, diapers, wipes, and seasonally-appropriate change of clothes to send to daycare on a Monday morning, yet I question myself if I’ve brushed my own teeth or hair.

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Dumped.

Jan 1, 2016 by

If you’ve been following my recent posts, you know that most days I feel desperate to wean Lenny and end our breastfeeding relationship. I’ve been the one initiating the weaning process, and arguably the most vocal about it.  This is my decision and I should be happy. So why does this feel like a bad breakup instead?

Just thinking about ending our breastfeeding relationship is enough to make me emotional. Despite wanting to stop, it’s a little hard to imagine breastfeeding not being a part of our lives. I never in a million years thought we’d make it this long, and I’m pretty proud of it. But, just like a lot of relationships, this one has almost run its course, and Lenny and I will have to find other ways to connect.

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Maybe once we’ve weaned…

Dec 12, 2015 by

Maybe once we’ve weaned I’ll start exercising again.  Let’s just say it’s been a while.  I’ve never been diligent about exercise—I’ll try a few months at a gym, or a new class of some sort, but get bored after a short amount of time and never really pick anything back up again.  When we were in the middle of our IVF cycle, and my ovaries were each the size of oranges and it hurt to just move, I remember thinking that I would never take that ability to move for granted again; as soon as possible, I would start exercising again, simply because I could.  Well, I had my son almost exactly two years ago now, and I’ve exercised exactly zero times.  Just before we started our IVF cycle, I was starting to get into bikram yoga. I’d love to take that up again but I’m worried that nursing plus a hot, humid workout would cause serious dehydration, so I’ve been waiting. Maybe once we’ve weaned.

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Finding new ways to comfort

Nov 30, 2015 by

Tonight my son woke up, crying out for me in a way that is rare for him, even when he is sick. The past few days he’s been battling a cold, made worse by a rash on his face that we determined at the pediatrician today to be bacterial. Even this time, you almost wouldn’t know he was sick, with his ever-happy disposition and unwavering appetite. Almost.

Except after his nap today, he cried and moaned and just sounded so miserable, and all he wanted was snuggles from his mom to help him feel better. Which he did, I’m happy to say, as he continued to destroy our living room by unearthing every toy he’s ever owned.

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