It's All in How You View Things...

 

Perspective. It’s a funny thing.

Sometimes, you’re in a situation and you can’t see anything but that. You are so completely wrapped up, enveloped in it, that it seems the only thing that truly exists is that time and place. You can’t see any way out of it.

Being pregnant is like a rollercoaster. Emotions are all over the place. Your body takes on a mind of it’s own. You couldn’t stop or slow it down even if you wanted to. There’s no end in sight….but sometimes, you don’t want it to end. You get so involved in being pregnant and in imagining the little-one-to-be that before you know it, there is a little human in your arms and you wonder how it all happened so fast.

Becoming a new parent is an amazing trip. It’s also hard as hell and nobody really tells you the honest truth about it. But seriously, how could they? There’s no way to understand it until you are actually in it, living it. Thrown to the wolves, in a way. You just have to learn by doing…by experiencing…by sacrificing….by loving.  Completely, and with all your being.

Having a child is a lesson.

In humility. Regardless of what you knew before, you find yourself questioning everything. Everything you do. Everything you think. Your motives. You realize it’s not all about you. Never was, really. It’s all about this new life.

In patience. Regardless of what you swore you would never do or say, you find yourself doing exactly that. And then berating yourself for it, and learning from it. Hopefully.

In maturity. Arguing with a toddler? Crying because you’re tired? Pouting when you don’t get to do what you wanna do? Really? Yes. I’ve done it. All of it. Recently. Sad? I know.

In love. The universe has an interesting sense of humor. Who knew that anger, frustration, laughter, and tears all combined to create such an immense love? One minute, you’re fine. The next, you’re bawling like the toddler bawling next to you. Unfathomable not that long ago. You’re so completely in love and you have no idea how to handle it.

It’s a paradigm shift, really.

A year and a half doesn’t seem like very long. And it’s really not. But so much has happened in that short period of time. So many times when I felt like I would be “stuck” forever in that moment in time. So many times when I couldn’t see the way out. But it was forever changing. Forever transforming into the next situation, the next moment in time. 

Having a child is a lesson in learning to live in the now and enjoying that moment. Even though it seems like my lil Jedi has been with me forever…even though it’s hard to imagine life without him…even though I miss parts of my “old” life… I know this isn’t forever. Snuggles and bedtime stories. “Peek-a-BOO!” and piggy-back rides. “I wow-woo, Mommy” and all the other cute ways he says things. These won’t be forever. I relish this time with him right now. And I am learning to do a better job of staying present so I can enjoy it in its fullness.

Perspective is a funny thing, isn’t it?

toddlers can make you cry...

Years ago, if you would have told me, “Sometimes you’re so happy, you cry,” I would say, yep…I know what you’re talking about. I’ve felt that. Tears of joy sound a little ironic, but in all actuality, it’s a good feeling. It’s happened at various points in my life. I get it. I understand. But now, as a parent, I can say there’s more to it than simply ‘tears of joy’.

Sometimes being so extremely happy, can in fact, make you sad. And then you cry from the sadness that has resulted from the happiness. Make sense? Or is this just my neurotic mommyness coming out again?

Let me illustrate:

I’m putting a 15-month-old Jaxon to bed for the evening. He’s had story time—2 3 stories this particular evening. He’s had some milk. It’s now officially snuggle time! This is my favorite part of the evening. This is where Jax talks to me. It’s when Jax gives hugs and kisses. He snuggles up for a few minutes before he goes into his bed. I love this part of the night---I just bask in his snuggles and his need of mommy.

And then, I hope. I hope that he does the nose kisses. It’s the sweetest thing in the world, and I love the way he kisses my nose:

Both hands on either side of my face…

Stretch up tall so he can reach my nose…

Look me in the eyes through the darkness of the room…

Lean forward…

And plant a drooly mouth right on my nose…and giggle.

Lean back…smile…giggle….

Repeat.

Well…sometimes.

Sometimes he’ll only do it once and lay back down only to lift his head back up from my shoulder and do it again. But, I am lucky. I usually get at least 3. I never ask for them. I don’t want to “jinx” it. Instead, I hope. I hope that I get nose kisses. It is one of the sweetest things. 

I smile…

I giggle…

I wipe the toddler drool off my nose…

I say, “I love you….lay down…night-night.”  (while inside hoping for more)

It’s not that I don’t enjoy them, but I don’t want to discourage the sleep that needs to happen. I don’t want to be the reason his routine is thrown off and he misses his “window” of optimal bedtime (it does exist, trust me on this) and we’re up all night. That’s not going to happen if I can help it.

But this time, I start to cry. As happy as I am at this moment, I am suddenly hit with an intense sadness. I realize, this little moment in time…just a few minutes of our evening routine…will soon be a thing of the past. Soon, he won’t kiss my nose and giggle. Soon he won’t even remember that he did it. Soon, he’ll be embarrassed to know that he ever did something as silly as that. And then he’ll move away and have a family of his own.  And now, I’m bawling---but doing the silent kind that won’t alert Jax to the fact that mommy’s upset. After all, he needs his sleep. See? I’m a martyr, here. Yes, people….this is how my mother-brain works. I’m tearing up just writing this.

In fact, it’s only a month later, and already the nose kisses have practically disappeared. They’re few and far between. I miss them. A lot.

But, I know everything is just a phase. Everything that has happened up until this point has just been a stepping stone, a building block to the next phase—all helping to create the young man he will eventually become.  A young man whom I will be proud to know and love.

I’ve already seen so many things disappear in his short life. Things that I miss and kinda wish he still did because they were so cute. Things that I’ve already forgotten but am reminded about by Josh, our pictures, or the baby book. So many things are already in the past and new things have come to take their place. And he’s not even 2 years old yet. I can’t imagine the next thing he’s going to do or say that I’m going to fall in love with. I can’t wait for him to do it. I can’t wait to be amazed.

But, I still

hope

hope

hope

for my nose kisses.

It's Worth It, Right?

As frustrating as parenting a 14-month-old can be, there are many things that are just so simply amazing and beautiful about it. It truly IS worth it.

So many times before I had Jax, people would say, “Oh, It’s not easy. It’s pretty difficult in fact…(and you ALL know what’s coming next)…but it’s worth it.”

Many times, I found myself involved in my own personal debate in my mind.

--It’s worth it.

--Sure. For THEM.

--Well, it COULD be worth it. It COULD be amazing.

--But who’s to say it’s going to be worth it to ME? How do I know that’s what I will get out of it?

--Well, if that’s what everyone ELSE says…literally everyone else I’ve ever talked to, then surely that’s how it will be for me too, RIGHT?

--Do I want to even DEAL with the ‘difficult’ part’?

Inevitably, after many repetitions of this same internal debate at different times throughout the course of a few years, my answer typically came back as a fairly confident ‘No’. I wasn’t ready to gamble on the possibility that it might actually be ‘worth it’ to me. I mean, who are they to tell me? It’s just their perception.

Ha.

And then something changed. Something clicked. I don’t know what it was. I can’t say it was my ‘clock’. That had started it’s own little countdown at about 25 and had been a very strong message constantly running through both my conscious and subconscious. Pulling me. Lucky for me, it wasn’t meant to be at that time. I don’t think I could have done it. I honestly don’t think I was ready at that point. So, I turned off the clock. I took out the batteries and did my own thing for a few years.

Then I hit 32 and I think I heard an audible click.  Well, really, it was more of a tick. Followed very closely by a tock. The only difference is that this time, I gave in to the whims of Mother Nature.  I listened.

And I have a beautiful boy to show for it.

Now, I can honestly say it’s one of the hardest things I have done in my entire life thus far.

--Man, maybe I haven’t really done anything difficult.

--Hmmm….Maybe not. But I AM responsible for another life. For the successes and failures, both present and in the future. I AM responsible for his health and well-being. For his accumulation of knowledge and dispersal of ignorance.

--True. That IS difficult. But I wouldn’t call it an adversity.

--No, not adversity. I don’t have to be a martyr.  But could I say it’s difficult?

--Yes. Ok. I HAVE done—wait. I AM DOING something difficult.

So, I will now become one of the clichéd…

But, I don’t even need to say it.

toddler or 8th grader?

i have come to a realization: toddler boys are just like 8th grade boys. or maybe it's the other way around. seriously. don’t buy it? you be the judge. i now present the evidence:

• Jaxon "runs" everywhere he goes, often yelling as he does so. then, he trips over his own two feet and falls to the ground. it’s kind of funny…and really cute.
• i often see the 8th grade boys in the hallway running, running, running everywhere they go. it's their main mode of transportation. yelling at each other down the hall…and yes, frequently, they stumble as they go along. but it’s just not cute any more. still kinda funny though. maybe they're still learning to walk? maybe their feet are too big for them?

• Jaxon plays with his spit, making bubbles. he drools and watches it fall to the ground. he thinks it's funny. i think it’s gross.
• i can’t tell you how many times i have seen an 8th grade boy making spit bubbles. they even make them on their tongues and stick out their tongues so they can see the bubbles. they allow strings of drool to pass out of their mouths on the way to the ground before they slurp it back up. and when they don’t move fast enough to slurp it back, they watch it go to the ground or desk. and laugh. it’s so disgusting i have to watch in disbelief, hoping that they’ll feel my repulsion boring through their skulls, willing them to stop their reprehensible behavior. unfortunately, it hasn’t worked yet.

• Jaxon hits people and things, yelling in his husky toddler voice. almost as if to say, “I am man! I will conquer!” this is pretty funny. well, the husky toddler yell is funny. the hitting part isn’t.
• 8th grade boys are loud. and they have to hit EVERYTHING. there’s lots of punching and hand slapping that goes on between 8th grade boys. and lots of slamming of binders or books against heads and shoulders…and walls and lockers. it must be testosterone. right?

• Jaxon pulls on my spaghetti straps and "pops" them...then he laughs.
• ok, so this one i haven’t witnessed too much, but i’m sure it happens. i mean, all of the other pieces of evidence are common in both species, toddler boy and 8th grade boy, so surely this one is too?

is my cute, if slightly obnoxious, toddler boy destined to become a disgusting slob of an 8th grade boy? can it be stopped or is it inevitable? what is the path of least resistance…and most “lovable-ness”?
ahh, the questions of a new mom…

Toddling Toddlers, Batman! It's Jax 1.0!

It doesn’t seem like it was that long ago that I hoped for the day when Jax would be walking. Geez, it doesn’t seem like that long ago when he was still a baby in the belly and I was full with so many visions and hopes for the future. Visions of days when I could hold his hand and we could walk to the car…or the mailbox…or numerous other places. So much to hope for.

Picture it: June. In Texas. Sweltering heat. School’s out. I have the ENTIRE summer ahead of me. Just me and my Jaxon Jedi. There are so many things I want to do. He’s 9 months old. Crawling has happened…in fact he’s pretty damn quick.

He crawls so fast at times, it’s hard to keep him corralled. He’s gone before you realize it…giggling as you chase after him. He speeds over to the couch, pulls himself up to standing for the very first time. But does he stop there? No. That’s not enough for my little overachiever. Nope. He tries to climb the furniture. He doesn’t make it. But he certainly tries. This may not seem like a big deal to any of you, but it was pretty spectacular in the eyes of his mommy. I was so proud. Seeing my little bug growing up…making developmental strides.

I take him to his 9-month check up and Doc asks if he’s crawling. “Yup!” (Proudly exclaimed by none other than moi.) Doc asks if he’s pulling up. “Yup!” (Once again, proudly exclaimed.) Cruising? “Y---ummmm…no.” (Uh-oh) Doc was a little surprised he wasn’t quite there yet—especially since his legs were so “strong” and he was such a “mover”. Hey, his words, not mine. The worry starts to set in. What have I done wrong? What did I NOT do? Why isn’t he cruising?!

And so, like any typical mom, I began to wonder if my lil Jedi was behind. Behind the other kids his age. But, unlike height and weight, they don’t really have a percentile measure for these developmental breakthroughs. Or, at least not one that I’m familiar with. So, I have no way of knowing where he really stands in this ridiculous measure of relativity. And it IS all relative.

The next 2 months FLY by. Jaxon and I enjoy our summer. We go to splash pads and we hike. We take morning walks and visit Daddy and other friends for lunch. We go see free music. We play. We play. We play. We have fun at the library. It’s the 1st summer of the rest of our lives and we’re lovin it! Oh…and he finally starts cruising. At this point, I’m so excited. This means bigger things are just around the corner. But it’s getting closer to the end of the summer, and my current mommy worry is walking. Will he be early? Will he be late? Will he have trouble? When’s he going to take that first step??

I was DAYS away from going back to work for the ‘10-‘11 school year. I was worried he would take his first steps at daycare. Someone else would see the things meant for ME to see. Luckily, Jax had other plans. Will I be here to see it?? Yes. As a matter of fact, I would.

The first step was on my watch. It was ever-so-tentative, yet bold at the same time. The look—concentrated and determined…mixed with a little fear. But just a little. His strategy? A deep breath and a jump off the cliff. Well, not literally a CLIFF, but it must’ve seemed that way to him at the time.

He raced over to the well-worn couch and pulled himself up to standing (a pattern for him by this time). He turned around and leaned back against the cushion, exuding confidence. He looked me dead in the eye and smiled. I swear he winked. (Ok, so maybe it wasn’t THAT dramatic, but it sounds pretty cool, right?) He peeled himself away from the couch. He gained his balance. Steady…steady… He let out a little giggle, took a step and fell into my lap as I sat waiting on the ottoman. I cannot describe how excited I was to have seen this moment. It was amazing. I was so proud of Jax. I kept urging him all day long to do it again so I could see it again…and get it on video. That woulda been cool.

Now, he’s a year old. And he’s walking. EVERYWHERE. He walks from the living room to my bedroom and back. He walks to the bathroom to take his bath. He’s still a little unsteady at times, falling over here or there, but it’s definitely become his preferred method of transportation. He’s proud of himself when he goes from one room to another. He feels like he’s finally able to be in control and do what the big people do. It’s his new thing. He wants to do it all the time. And Jax 1.0 is on the road to mastering it.

Does he know all the things that await him with this mastery?

• Shoes. (I can’t wait to buy him some lil Pumas…and Chucks…and Adidas!)
• The great outdoors. (Camping and hiking!!)
• Dancing. (Oh, yeah, baby. My kid’s already a lil groover. But just you WAIT till he’s really able to move those feet.)
• Running.
• Skipping.
• Jumping.
• Sports?
• Bike-riding?
• Skateboarding?

Wow. So much ahead of him. So much that I can’t even fathom. Not to mention the learning experiences of scrapes, bruises and skinned knees. And (hopefully NOT!!) broken bones. He is a risk-taker. I see this in him. He’s not afraid to take risks with language. He’s not afraid to just go for it with so many things. He’s always in that state of “Look mom, no hands!”…and he’s only 1. Before I know it, he’s going to be doing much more than I have even imagined. More than I had hoped. And he’ll be gone before I realize it…giggling as I chase after him.

some biting remarks...

Teeth. You brush them. You bare them. You show them off. You chomp and grind and grit them. You pulverize food into an unrecognizable pulp with them, just so you can fill your belly.

You use them to hold things, to open things…and yes, to bite. Most of the biting most of us do as adults, is directly related to eating or accidents. You know, you accidentally bite your tongue, your lip, the inside of your cheek.

But we’ve had our teeth for years and we’re used to them. They’re part of us. We know how to keep them clean—even if we don’t do a good job of it. For many of us, the pain of getting teeth is so far removed from our memories it’s difficult to understand what our children go through.

So, in an effort to help us understand what they are dealing with, they’ve taken to biting us. That’s right. We are under attack. From our babies.

I’ll give you an example. Jaxon is almost a year old. He officially has 3 make that 4 teeth. These are fairly new pieces of “technology” to him and he is rapidly learning how best to use them through much trial and error…mainly on my arm. What started off as slobbery, open-mouthed kisses on my arm or leg have officially turned into full-on oral assaults to my epidermis.

And I have the whelps and bruises to prove it.

The worst part is, when I tell him no, he gives a slight giggle. Like he thinks it’s funny. Great.

Oh, I know. He thinks he’s winning. But I will not be ground to a powdery dust by the technological advances of my 11 month old.

It’s two things, really. First of all, they’re new and he wants to see what they can do. I mean, it’s human nature. You get new clothes, you wanna show them off. You learn some new information, you wanna use it. Secondly, it hurts. Not only are there permanent (well, semi-permanent) foreign objects in his mouth that didn’t used to be there, but they bring with them a world of pain. How is a soon-to-be-toddler supposed to ignore that?

Back in the day, I would’ve been told to rub some whiskey on his gums. That’ll do the trick. And probably turn him into an alcoholic…just kidding. Now we would consider that a definite wrong thing to do. So instead, we give them cold, malleable things to chew on. We give them toys and try to keep them distracted. We give them homeopathic remedies and man-made medicines. All in an effort to help them through this phase in their life, hopefully giving them some relief and rest. And hopefully us, too.

So our goal is to get through it, sanity intact and free of lacerations and combat wounds. Their goal is to enter the world of the non-pureed, mashed-to-a-paste omnivore. It seems their goal is much more easily attainable than ours. Could it be that we are destined to be on the losing team? The universe can’t be that fiendish. Could it?

We start off as rebellious little arm-biters, gnawing on everything in sight. But slowly, through the years we become complacent. We have assembly-line education keeping us coloring inside the lines, societal norms and regulations streaming into our brains via technology, and the pressures of becoming a “success” in a world full of adults who’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a kid. And we suddenly find ourselves on the front lines. But on the other side.  Ironic, isn’t it? Maybe the universe is brutal, cold, and calculating. Or maybe it’s just the cycle of life.

still nursing? why,yes...yes, i am...

funny thing about this post...i actually started to write it 3 months ago. but i only got as far as the title.
gee, i must've been real dedicated to it. nope. i guess it just wasn't meant to be written at that time.

so here we are now, 3 months later and Jax is officially an 11 month ol--what??? did i just say 11 MONTHS?!?!? yep. that's right. he is. hard to believe, i know. but it's true.

so, he's 11 months old, and yes, we are still nursing. the boy eats solid food ~ 4 times a day. he has 2 teeth and i think he's working on a 3rd. but yes, we are still nursing. much to the surprise of some of those around us. 

before Jaxon was born, i had a goal in mind of nursing till he was a year, because i had been told that was what was best, and i AM the good little girl who *usually* follows the rules and advice like this. but with all the troubles we had in the beginning, i thought nursing was something that just wasn't going to happen.

then i went through a phase where i hated that i was doing it and wished i had just gone the "easier" route and done formula, because then ANYone (read: baby daddy) could get up with Jax the multiple times in one night to feed him. and this sentiment would trade off with one where i felt proud to be nursing my Jax because i knew that's what's best for him.  and i decided i was going to make it to 6 months and see what happened. 6 months...i could do that.

i vascillated between these two mindsets constantly and have been over the last few months. and it's because Jax is a mover. he doesn't sit still often, and that doesn't change when he nurses. sometimes i call it "violent", but i'm not sure if that's the right word for it. maybe "vigorous" is a better term. it's not like you can just fall asleep while he nurses. not a chance. i have had to bounce or rock him sometimes. other times i've had to hold his hand because he's hitting or scratching me or pulling on my shirt. and other times, he's pushing his feet up against the chair and making us both move. sometimes, it's ALL of these things...and that just makes it unpleasant for me.  it makes me feel trapped.

it was during one of these moments of indecisiveness that i realized that i HAD to continue to nurse him unless he WAS going to be a formula baby. i don't know, it felt like some sort of epiphany. if i stopped at 9 months, he had to switch to formula--which i didn't see him doing easily. so, it's like i no longer had an option. and once again, i felt trapped. and, to be clear, formula is not something i wanted to do. it's not that i thought it was "wrong" or like i was trying to be "snooty". it's just not something we, as parents, wanted for Jax. we wanted to give him what we considered the best possible start in life. and to us, that meant nursing.

but the best possible start in life at the expense of a mother who feels trapped? does that lead to resentment? yes. irritability? yes. fatigue? yes. all of these. and so much more that you probably can't even put in words.

but i kept at it. and, amazingly, i am still going. it's like now i can see the finish line. and if i've made it this far, why not keep on keepin on? he's healthy. we've definitely bonded. i look down at him and he looks up at me and it makes me cry. it's such a strong emotional bond between the two of us. he's totally and completely in love with me. and i am with him as well.

even though there's been this constant back and forth, i think if i had to do it all over again, i would still nurse. i would still set my goal for a year. it's possible i would still go back and forth on how i feel about the whole thing, but i would still do it. it's what's best, right?

**remind me i said this if i ever have another child. it would have to be easier the second time around, right?