...pregnant.
Not.
It's been 3 months since I've blogged - and not because I haven't had anything to blog, but because I still feel like I can't rationalize blogging instead of studying. Or cooking/cleaning. Or bombarding my junior kindergartener with reading drills so he enters SK with a second grade reading level and a nervous tic. And just in case I wasn't busy enough already, Russ got laid off and decided to go back to school in the fall so I had to go get me a job and be his sugar momma.
I've missed many an opportunity to record cute kid stories that I have now forgotten and/or will surely forget soon, and I'm not looking forward to the inevitable task of summarizing the past quarter-year in a completely bulleted post. I'm trying to convince myself that this blog doesn't always have to be funny, that it's really just here for the purpose of remembering the boys in something other than a blur. I shouldn't care whether someone important happens to come across it and dismiss it as just another boring mom blog, right? So I'm going to try to start up again, for me.
Showing posts with label i've got the mom guilts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label i've got the mom guilts. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
His Secret
Josey got off the school bus yesterday and moped his way into the house. He complained that he didn't feel well, but couldn't specify what felt bad other than a vague wave at his head. He said he hadn't hit his head or gotten hurt in any way, so I wondered if someone had been mean to him and he was reluctant to tell me. After much probing, he insisted that nothing had happened and that everyone at school was nice to him. Later on he had a bit of a fever and complained of a bad headache ("like there's a bowling ball smashing around in my head!" - how descriptive) and dizziness so I gave him some tylenol and he was fine for the rest of the night.
I stayed up late studying, and when I finally went to bed I lay awake wondering if something really had happened. What if an older kid had hurt - or worse, MOLESTED - him and told him that something bad would happen if he told anyone. I fought the urge to go in and wake him up and finally fell asleep, vowing to have a talk with him in the morning.
When he woke up I was already downstairs with Tristan sleeping on me (a new game - wake up at 5:30 and insist on going downstairs, then pass out on Mommy while she sits uncomfortably on the couch watching infomercials). I heard him thump out of bed, go into our room, then begin to cry when he couldn't find me. Assuming this new behaviour was because of the imagined horrible incident yesterday I quietly called out to him so he knew where I was. He was happy to find me and snuggled up close to us.
I took a deep breath and wondered how to go about introducing the subject without scaring the bejeezus out of him and decided to go the "secret" route. There are some good secrets, I explained, like knowing what Roanen's Christmas present is and not telling him, or planning a surprise party for Daddy's birthday. Then there are bad secrets - secrets that don't make you feel nice and excited inside. If someone tells you that something is a secret and it doesn't make you feel good, then it's important to tell someone you trust, like Mommy or Daddy or Grammie or Grampa, or even your teacher, so that the bad feelings can come out instead of staying inside and making you feel yucky. You won't get in trouble, and we'll be very happy to know, even if it's about something bad. He listened without commenting or asking any questions so I let it go for the time being.
All was fine this morning. He played as usual, but became quiet and thoughtful at lunch. All of a sudden he looked at me and said "Mommy, you know how we were talking about good secrets and bad secrets this morning?" My breath caught in my throat and my heart started beating faster. How was I going to deal with what he was about to tell me? This was huge. "Yes Buddy, what about it?"
He paused for a second, then leaned across the table and looked at me with big, serious eyes. Then he whispered:
"Can we please have a surprise birthday party for Daddy?"
I stayed up late studying, and when I finally went to bed I lay awake wondering if something really had happened. What if an older kid had hurt - or worse, MOLESTED - him and told him that something bad would happen if he told anyone. I fought the urge to go in and wake him up and finally fell asleep, vowing to have a talk with him in the morning.
When he woke up I was already downstairs with Tristan sleeping on me (a new game - wake up at 5:30 and insist on going downstairs, then pass out on Mommy while she sits uncomfortably on the couch watching infomercials). I heard him thump out of bed, go into our room, then begin to cry when he couldn't find me. Assuming this new behaviour was because of the imagined horrible incident yesterday I quietly called out to him so he knew where I was. He was happy to find me and snuggled up close to us.
I took a deep breath and wondered how to go about introducing the subject without scaring the bejeezus out of him and decided to go the "secret" route. There are some good secrets, I explained, like knowing what Roanen's Christmas present is and not telling him, or planning a surprise party for Daddy's birthday. Then there are bad secrets - secrets that don't make you feel nice and excited inside. If someone tells you that something is a secret and it doesn't make you feel good, then it's important to tell someone you trust, like Mommy or Daddy or Grammie or Grampa, or even your teacher, so that the bad feelings can come out instead of staying inside and making you feel yucky. You won't get in trouble, and we'll be very happy to know, even if it's about something bad. He listened without commenting or asking any questions so I let it go for the time being.
All was fine this morning. He played as usual, but became quiet and thoughtful at lunch. All of a sudden he looked at me and said "Mommy, you know how we were talking about good secrets and bad secrets this morning?" My breath caught in my throat and my heart started beating faster. How was I going to deal with what he was about to tell me? This was huge. "Yes Buddy, what about it?"
He paused for a second, then leaned across the table and looked at me with big, serious eyes. Then he whispered:
"Can we please have a surprise birthday party for Daddy?"
Monday, May 05, 2008
Crying It Out
In the past couple of weeks I've started to compose a blog in my head about crying it out and each time I've gotten so angry and emotional that I had to stop before my head exploded. The catalyst was the visit from our therapist and home worker where we discussed the "treatment" for our "troubled" family.
My biggest worry was for Roanen. The impression I got from previous visits was that we were basically going to lock him in his room and let him cry until he passed out, so I was relieved to hear that we were just to bring him back to his bed as soon as he came into our room. Relieved, that is, and slightly annoyed that Russ eagerly accepted this idea when they presented it, after I had presented it many times as common sense.
The girls then proudly presented their solution for Tristan's sleep issues. They had done a TON of research and talked to many people in their field and found the best way to deal with it. The answers were all in this MAGICAL BOOK written by someone extremely knowledgeable on the subject. The book? A very famous book by a certain doctor with a whole METHOD named after him: Ferber (can you hear the hate and disgust with which I type the name?). Um, apparently someone missed the memo about how I had a little problem with the cry-it-out method? Or else they sat around bored one day and said "You know what would be funny? Let's tell Lindsay that she has to let her kids scream for hours without comforting them. Let's take bets on whether she'll cry!" And you know what? I did. Or at least I visibly teared up, then I composed myself because the last thing I needed was for them to see me fall apart when they already think I'm guilt-ridden and ruining my kids with coddling. I went temporarily insane and agreed that it had to be done. We made up a plan in which we were to go to him when he cried, comfort for less than a minute without touching (?!..?!!?), then leave. We could go back at 5 minute intervals and he would eventually cry himself to sleep. He would be sleeping through the night within a week and a half. Yes it would be hard, but worth it in the end.
Once they left, reality set in. I looked through the photocopied pages they gave me that coldly stated that I was doing him an injustice by letting him use me as a comfort tool, and that it made children feel anxious and worried, not comforted, to co-sleep. I looked through The No-Cry Sleep Solution and reread the part that describes in heart-wrenching detail how a baby must feel when it's left to cry Then I looked at him and realized that as tired as I constantly am, as frustrated as I get when I have to nurse him for the sixth time in one night, and as angry as he makes me when he screams for hours at a time while alternately reaching for me and pushing me away, I couldn't do it. I couldn't listen to him get as hysterical as I know he would get and not comfort him, not even touch him. And despite being assured that doing this wouldn't cause any permanent emotional damage, how exactly do they know? When a baby begins sleeping through the night after crying it out is it really because they've learned to self-soothe, or is it because they've resigned themself to the fact that they're not deserving of comfort at night by the people who are supposed to love them unconditionally? As far as I was concerned, the end just wouldn't justify the means. I called the home worker the next day and told her I wasn't going to go through with it.
Since then, Tristan's sleeping habits have once again deteriorated. His longest stretch at night is 2-1/2 hours, but it's not uncommon for him to wake up 40 minutes after I finish nursing him. The past few nights I've brought him into our bed the fifth or sixth time he's woken up and when that happens he pretty much wants to nurse constantly. That being said, I still don't regret my decision. One of the things that I've gained with having another baby with sleep issues is perspective. I know that while things suck pretty badly right now I won't be having to nurse him 8 times a night a year from now, let alone for the rest of my life. Both the home worker and Russ gave me the look that says "isn't that nice that you're fooling yourself" along with a mental pat on the head when I told them that, but I'm not going to do something I'm completely against to please them when I'm the one who has to deal with feeling bad about it afterwards.
For now I don't really have a plan. The boys and I have been really sick for the past week so I'm too desperate for any kind of sleep to even think of a plan, much less act on one. My one extreme is to just deal with it until he's old enough to be sleep-trained like his brothers were. My other extreme, and the closest to crying it out I would ever do, is to stand by his crib and lie him down every time he stands up, comforting him with touch and my voice. And even that scares me a little bit. We'll see how much more of this I can take.
My biggest worry was for Roanen. The impression I got from previous visits was that we were basically going to lock him in his room and let him cry until he passed out, so I was relieved to hear that we were just to bring him back to his bed as soon as he came into our room. Relieved, that is, and slightly annoyed that Russ eagerly accepted this idea when they presented it, after I had presented it many times as common sense.
The girls then proudly presented their solution for Tristan's sleep issues. They had done a TON of research and talked to many people in their field and found the best way to deal with it. The answers were all in this MAGICAL BOOK written by someone extremely knowledgeable on the subject. The book? A very famous book by a certain doctor with a whole METHOD named after him: Ferber (can you hear the hate and disgust with which I type the name?). Um, apparently someone missed the memo about how I had a little problem with the cry-it-out method? Or else they sat around bored one day and said "You know what would be funny? Let's tell Lindsay that she has to let her kids scream for hours without comforting them. Let's take bets on whether she'll cry!" And you know what? I did. Or at least I visibly teared up, then I composed myself because the last thing I needed was for them to see me fall apart when they already think I'm guilt-ridden and ruining my kids with coddling. I went temporarily insane and agreed that it had to be done. We made up a plan in which we were to go to him when he cried, comfort for less than a minute without touching (?!..?!!?), then leave. We could go back at 5 minute intervals and he would eventually cry himself to sleep. He would be sleeping through the night within a week and a half. Yes it would be hard, but worth it in the end.
Once they left, reality set in. I looked through the photocopied pages they gave me that coldly stated that I was doing him an injustice by letting him use me as a comfort tool, and that it made children feel anxious and worried, not comforted, to co-sleep. I looked through The No-Cry Sleep Solution and reread the part that describes in heart-wrenching detail how a baby must feel when it's left to cry Then I looked at him and realized that as tired as I constantly am, as frustrated as I get when I have to nurse him for the sixth time in one night, and as angry as he makes me when he screams for hours at a time while alternately reaching for me and pushing me away, I couldn't do it. I couldn't listen to him get as hysterical as I know he would get and not comfort him, not even touch him. And despite being assured that doing this wouldn't cause any permanent emotional damage, how exactly do they know? When a baby begins sleeping through the night after crying it out is it really because they've learned to self-soothe, or is it because they've resigned themself to the fact that they're not deserving of comfort at night by the people who are supposed to love them unconditionally? As far as I was concerned, the end just wouldn't justify the means. I called the home worker the next day and told her I wasn't going to go through with it.
Since then, Tristan's sleeping habits have once again deteriorated. His longest stretch at night is 2-1/2 hours, but it's not uncommon for him to wake up 40 minutes after I finish nursing him. The past few nights I've brought him into our bed the fifth or sixth time he's woken up and when that happens he pretty much wants to nurse constantly. That being said, I still don't regret my decision. One of the things that I've gained with having another baby with sleep issues is perspective. I know that while things suck pretty badly right now I won't be having to nurse him 8 times a night a year from now, let alone for the rest of my life. Both the home worker and Russ gave me the look that says "isn't that nice that you're fooling yourself" along with a mental pat on the head when I told them that, but I'm not going to do something I'm completely against to please them when I'm the one who has to deal with feeling bad about it afterwards.
For now I don't really have a plan. The boys and I have been really sick for the past week so I'm too desperate for any kind of sleep to even think of a plan, much less act on one. My one extreme is to just deal with it until he's old enough to be sleep-trained like his brothers were. My other extreme, and the closest to crying it out I would ever do, is to stand by his crib and lie him down every time he stands up, comforting him with touch and my voice. And even that scares me a little bit. We'll see how much more of this I can take.
Monday, March 17, 2008
In Honor of St. Patty's Day I Give You O'Roanen, Our Irish Child
(you know, as in the frustrated exclamation of "Oh, Roanen!" that is so often heard around here)
I will now curse us by announcing that Roanen has actually slept through the night IN HIS OWN BED WITHOUT WAKING UP for 12 out of the last 13 nights. It will now never happen again. Actually it was 11 of 13 nights, but one of the wakeups didn't count because Tristan was screaming so loud at midnight that he woke him up. Anyway, this started one night after we finally had the area's version of "Nanny 9-1-1", the Phoenix Centre (for "troubled" children and families) pay us a visit at Russ' request. Basically we're getting an assessment done by a therapist and we'll have an in-home worker help us out with Roanen's freakout issues. The main problem we were going to address was his fighting bedtime and the nightly trip into our bed (because those are the issues Russ has with him - I don't particularly enjoy his fits but they don't make my life miserable either) and now Roanen decided to partly fix that on his own. The problem now is that when the in-home worker comes to help us she's planning on basically using the Ferber method to get him to fall asleep on his own (much to my anti-crying-it-out dismay) and I'm worried that if he gets upset at bedtime he'll regress in the middle of the night. I was ok with the idea when it was first presented, but the more I think about it the more sick I feel about it. Since it will be a while before the worker is able to come in the evening, I'm hoping to try some gentler methods in the meantime to get him to sleep without someone being with him, kind of like we did with Josey. I'm desperate to avoid the crying, especially since the reason we originally asked for help was because we knew if we tried something like that he wouldn't stop crying. I would honestly take having to sit with him for a while at bedtime over hearing him get upset at being left alone in his bedroom. Ugh. I'm depressed thinking about it.
Also filed under "happy" - he has peed on the potty several times, mostly in the morning. I'm not full-out training him because that would be ridiculous at this point between Josey's preschool and Tristan being Tristan, but we've taken the potty out and every once and a while I ask him if he wants to sit on the potty and get a jellybean. Unlike Josey, he doesn't seem to pee much at night so if I catch him first thing in the morning he'll usually have a mega-pee that somehow manages to flood the floor around the potty. Whatever. So what if I have to soak up a huge puddle (one-handed, of course, due to Tristan freaking if I put him down) every morning. He's peeing. I'm happy.
Taking after his father, Roanen has earned the new nickname of "Chatterbox". He pretty much constantly has a monologue going, usually consisting of things like "That's a-MAZING!", "Wook at that! Oooooh, that's WEEWY WEEWY PWETTY!" and "That's a taw biwding. What a bootiful biwding!" Almost as cute as Josey's exclamations of "Wow Mommy, that's weewy wuvwy!" My boys appreciate beauty. That's why they like staring at themselves in the mirror :)
I will now curse us by announcing that Roanen has actually slept through the night IN HIS OWN BED WITHOUT WAKING UP for 12 out of the last 13 nights. It will now never happen again. Actually it was 11 of 13 nights, but one of the wakeups didn't count because Tristan was screaming so loud at midnight that he woke him up. Anyway, this started one night after we finally had the area's version of "Nanny 9-1-1", the Phoenix Centre (for "troubled" children and families) pay us a visit at Russ' request. Basically we're getting an assessment done by a therapist and we'll have an in-home worker help us out with Roanen's freakout issues. The main problem we were going to address was his fighting bedtime and the nightly trip into our bed (because those are the issues Russ has with him - I don't particularly enjoy his fits but they don't make my life miserable either) and now Roanen decided to partly fix that on his own. The problem now is that when the in-home worker comes to help us she's planning on basically using the Ferber method to get him to fall asleep on his own (much to my anti-crying-it-out dismay) and I'm worried that if he gets upset at bedtime he'll regress in the middle of the night. I was ok with the idea when it was first presented, but the more I think about it the more sick I feel about it. Since it will be a while before the worker is able to come in the evening, I'm hoping to try some gentler methods in the meantime to get him to sleep without someone being with him, kind of like we did with Josey. I'm desperate to avoid the crying, especially since the reason we originally asked for help was because we knew if we tried something like that he wouldn't stop crying. I would honestly take having to sit with him for a while at bedtime over hearing him get upset at being left alone in his bedroom. Ugh. I'm depressed thinking about it.
Also filed under "happy" - he has peed on the potty several times, mostly in the morning. I'm not full-out training him because that would be ridiculous at this point between Josey's preschool and Tristan being Tristan, but we've taken the potty out and every once and a while I ask him if he wants to sit on the potty and get a jellybean. Unlike Josey, he doesn't seem to pee much at night so if I catch him first thing in the morning he'll usually have a mega-pee that somehow manages to flood the floor around the potty. Whatever. So what if I have to soak up a huge puddle (one-handed, of course, due to Tristan freaking if I put him down) every morning. He's peeing. I'm happy.
Taking after his father, Roanen has earned the new nickname of "Chatterbox". He pretty much constantly has a monologue going, usually consisting of things like "That's a-MAZING!", "Wook at that! Oooooh, that's WEEWY WEEWY PWETTY!" and "That's a taw biwding. What a bootiful biwding!" Almost as cute as Josey's exclamations of "Wow Mommy, that's weewy wuvwy!" My boys appreciate beauty. That's why they like staring at themselves in the mirror :)
Friday, November 03, 2006
New stuff - yay!
Ok, now I can record stuff as it happens in something better than point form :)
Roanen may have turned a corner in his seemingly unhappy existence and has been quite content to play on his own and around Josey for the last couple of days. He still gets fussy once in a while, but I can actually get stuff done without him crawling after me and clinging to my leg, crying constantly. Knock on wood, but I finally feel like things are a little more normal. I can't wait for him to start walking so I don't have to lug him around everywhere, especially outside.
Josey's behaviour is also better, which I've decided is a reward for not killing him last week when he was a complete demon for 7 days straight. I had a horrible guilty mom moment at my mom's, though. Josey hit me, so he got a timeout on the landing going down to the basement (he won't stay in the corner so I have to put him down there and close the door. It's glass so he can see out - I'm not mean enough to just toss him somewhere where he can't see anything...) I waited an appropriate amount of time, then opened the door and asked him why he got a timeout (our usual ritual to make sure he understands why he's being punished) and he refused to answer me and screamed wildly for me to let him out. I told him he could come out when he calmed down and told me why he was having timeout, then closed the door again. This repeated itself several times, until he finally calmed down and told me why, then got a big hug. As usual when he gets really upset, he said he wanted to go to sleep and snuggle with me, so I took him up to our bed and lay down with him. After a couple of sniffles and sighs, he turned to me and said "Mommy, I sorry" and gave me a hug, then proceeded to say "My don't like myself". How's that for awful self-esteem in a 2 year old. Of course, he was his happy old self again in about 3 minutes so hopefully he doesn't have any serious issues, particularly none that were caused by me ;)
Roanen may have turned a corner in his seemingly unhappy existence and has been quite content to play on his own and around Josey for the last couple of days. He still gets fussy once in a while, but I can actually get stuff done without him crawling after me and clinging to my leg, crying constantly. Knock on wood, but I finally feel like things are a little more normal. I can't wait for him to start walking so I don't have to lug him around everywhere, especially outside.
Josey's behaviour is also better, which I've decided is a reward for not killing him last week when he was a complete demon for 7 days straight. I had a horrible guilty mom moment at my mom's, though. Josey hit me, so he got a timeout on the landing going down to the basement (he won't stay in the corner so I have to put him down there and close the door. It's glass so he can see out - I'm not mean enough to just toss him somewhere where he can't see anything...) I waited an appropriate amount of time, then opened the door and asked him why he got a timeout (our usual ritual to make sure he understands why he's being punished) and he refused to answer me and screamed wildly for me to let him out. I told him he could come out when he calmed down and told me why he was having timeout, then closed the door again. This repeated itself several times, until he finally calmed down and told me why, then got a big hug. As usual when he gets really upset, he said he wanted to go to sleep and snuggle with me, so I took him up to our bed and lay down with him. After a couple of sniffles and sighs, he turned to me and said "Mommy, I sorry" and gave me a hug, then proceeded to say "My don't like myself". How's that for awful self-esteem in a 2 year old. Of course, he was his happy old self again in about 3 minutes so hopefully he doesn't have any serious issues, particularly none that were caused by me ;)
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