Pretty much my kids are amazing. I say this every day.
The three of us, baby B, Miss H, and I, were laying in bed. They'd woken up and were just regrouping before actually getting up. Well, baby B crawls over me and picks up Miss H's sippy cup.
She looks at him and says, "That's miiiiiine!"
But she doesn't move for it. Then after a second of watching him struggle with the cup, as the lid was closed, she says, "Open it for you. Open it for you. Momma, open it for him?"
"Yes," I tell her. "You may open it for him."
So she does, and then holds the cup for him to drink from it until he takes it back in his hands.
"Sharing," Miss H says. "Very good sharing."
"That was good sharing," I tell her.
"My turn," she says to baby B, directing the straw to her mouth. "Okay, your turn!" and she gives it back to him.
Yeah...that's good sharing. And I've never forced her to share anything in her life. So at least I know that the countless times I've said things like, "Does your brother look happy that you won't share that with him?" or "Little Sally has a sad face because you won't share that toy with her" has actually paid off. She "gets" sharing...and did so happily!
Monday, June 11, 2012
Preschool was traumatizing
For me anyway. Though, I'm pretty sure it was for Miss H, too.
I desperately wanted Miss H in preschool after I had baby B. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was mostly because of the PPD. I just thought for some crazy-ass reason I'd be happier if she were gone for a bit during the days. I was wrong.
Of course.
Miss H attended preschool for all of 6 weeks. They may very well be the most traumatic 6 weeks of my life to date, and, well, I've been through some pretty traumatic stuff in my life, so that's saying a lot.
She would scream and cry and beg me to stay and not to leave her every morning I dropped her off. And then I would stand outside in the hall, or sit in the car, and just bawl like a baby. Sometimes I'd call J and tell him that I knew what I was doing was wrong, and yet there I was, still doing it. Not going to lie, he wasn't terribly supportive. At least, not in the way I was hoping he'd be.
I kept hoping he'd tell me that it was all for the best and she'd be fine. Instead he always told me that I should go back and get her then. I never did. Instead I just cried, ignoring all of my mommy-instincts, and drove around until it was time to pick her up again, instead of going home. I felt like the worst mother in the world during those weeks. And they were some of the lowest weeks of my life.
Then one day I went to take her to preschool and she started screaming in the parking lot. I just looked at her, my perfect, wonderful little girl. She wanted so desperately to be with me. As flawed and imperfect as I was. As much as I'd been snapping lately. Although I spent too much time holding the baby and not nearly enough time playing with her. She still just wanted to be with me. So I had to be doing something right.
So I scooped her up and smothered her in my arms and kissed her until she was calm. Then I asked her, "Do you want to go home, or do you want to go play with your friends?"
"Home," she answered. "Go home."
So we did.
And I had begun to think she'd completely forgotten about those traumatic weeks.
Until today while we were eating lunch and she was looking at a painting hanging on our wall that she had done at preschool all those months ago. And she turned to me and said, "H went to school. Momma come right back. But I cry and cry. It's okay baby, Momma sorry. I so sorry. But then Momma go bye-bye again and I cry and cry."
It took everything in me not to burst into tears as I listened to my 26-month-old recount her memories of that time. She remembered being in distress. She remembered me just leaving her. She remembered me apologizing when I came back, and then doing it all over again the next day.
It's heartbreaking.
And it's eye-opening.
I try my best to teach her that we only say "sorry" when we truly are. If we have done something that is wrong, and we plan to do our best not to do it again.
Yet I told her sorry every day that I picked her up, with every intention of doing the same thing the next day. What a hypocrite.
This is definitely a learning experience for the books. Probably one of those things that I will feel guilty about forever, especially now that I'm in a very clear state of mind and can look back on the situation. I'm appalled that it ever happened, to be honest. But I guess we don't do things we legitimately regret and then look back on those memories fondly.
I hope she forgets about those weeks, to be honest. I hope it's something she never asks about when she's older. I hope it's not something she ever has a vague memory of. It doesn't appear to be going that way, though. So if she ever asks, I'll answer her truthfully. And hopefully I've raised her to be the kind of person who can forgive another for their mistakes and misgivings.
I desperately wanted Miss H in preschool after I had baby B. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was mostly because of the PPD. I just thought for some crazy-ass reason I'd be happier if she were gone for a bit during the days. I was wrong.
Of course.
Miss H attended preschool for all of 6 weeks. They may very well be the most traumatic 6 weeks of my life to date, and, well, I've been through some pretty traumatic stuff in my life, so that's saying a lot.
She would scream and cry and beg me to stay and not to leave her every morning I dropped her off. And then I would stand outside in the hall, or sit in the car, and just bawl like a baby. Sometimes I'd call J and tell him that I knew what I was doing was wrong, and yet there I was, still doing it. Not going to lie, he wasn't terribly supportive. At least, not in the way I was hoping he'd be.
I kept hoping he'd tell me that it was all for the best and she'd be fine. Instead he always told me that I should go back and get her then. I never did. Instead I just cried, ignoring all of my mommy-instincts, and drove around until it was time to pick her up again, instead of going home. I felt like the worst mother in the world during those weeks. And they were some of the lowest weeks of my life.
Then one day I went to take her to preschool and she started screaming in the parking lot. I just looked at her, my perfect, wonderful little girl. She wanted so desperately to be with me. As flawed and imperfect as I was. As much as I'd been snapping lately. Although I spent too much time holding the baby and not nearly enough time playing with her. She still just wanted to be with me. So I had to be doing something right.
So I scooped her up and smothered her in my arms and kissed her until she was calm. Then I asked her, "Do you want to go home, or do you want to go play with your friends?"
"Home," she answered. "Go home."
So we did.
And I had begun to think she'd completely forgotten about those traumatic weeks.
Until today while we were eating lunch and she was looking at a painting hanging on our wall that she had done at preschool all those months ago. And she turned to me and said, "H went to school. Momma come right back. But I cry and cry. It's okay baby, Momma sorry. I so sorry. But then Momma go bye-bye again and I cry and cry."
It took everything in me not to burst into tears as I listened to my 26-month-old recount her memories of that time. She remembered being in distress. She remembered me just leaving her. She remembered me apologizing when I came back, and then doing it all over again the next day.
It's heartbreaking.
And it's eye-opening.
I try my best to teach her that we only say "sorry" when we truly are. If we have done something that is wrong, and we plan to do our best not to do it again.
Yet I told her sorry every day that I picked her up, with every intention of doing the same thing the next day. What a hypocrite.
This is definitely a learning experience for the books. Probably one of those things that I will feel guilty about forever, especially now that I'm in a very clear state of mind and can look back on the situation. I'm appalled that it ever happened, to be honest. But I guess we don't do things we legitimately regret and then look back on those memories fondly.
I hope she forgets about those weeks, to be honest. I hope it's something she never asks about when she's older. I hope it's not something she ever has a vague memory of. It doesn't appear to be going that way, though. So if she ever asks, I'll answer her truthfully. And hopefully I've raised her to be the kind of person who can forgive another for their mistakes and misgivings.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Miss H's fantasmic raspberry white-chocolate (gluten free!) cookies
Miss H woke up in a much better mood than she'd been in before her nap. Hallelujah!
The first thing she asked was if we could make cookies. I told her yes, because 1.) I wanted to keep her quiet and away from J and baby B who were napping and 2.) who doesn't love cookies?
Typically when we make "cookies" they are almond butter date nut cookies (betcha can't guess what's in those!). But we had tons of fresh berries, so I suggested we make some blueberry cookies (and I'd seen a promising looking recipe on Pinterest). But...my computer was too slow and she was getting antsy, so I decided we'd come up with our own cookie recipe.
And it turned out mighty magnificent! Oh, and we totally did not use blueberries. She decided, right before she was to dump them into the mix, that she wanted raspberries instead. So that's what we went with.
But I'll share our kick-butt recipe, because they are seriously addictive! Even J ate handfuls of them, and he rarely does that with treats.
Ingredients:
1 cup room temperature butter
1 cup turbando sugar (I am sure brown sugar could easily be substituted, and white sugar probably would be fine. I'd avoid liquid sweeteners [honey, agave, etc.] as it will make the batter much too sticky, as it is all ready sticky as is.)
3-4tbsp of lemon juice (we didn't actually measure this, just winged it)
2 duck eggs (chicken will obviously work too! You might need to do 2 eggs + 1 yolk...)
3 cups of gluten-free baking flour
1/2 tsp of baking soda
1/2 tsp of baking powder
1 tsp kosher salt
1 package of white chocolate chips
6 oz of raspberries
Directions:
1.) Preheat oven to 350 degree.
2.) Cream sugar and butter in bowl. Then add lemon juice and eggs.
3.) In separate bowl mix flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.
4.) Add dry mixture to wet mixture. Mix thoroughly.
5.) Add white chocolate chips and raspberries. Mix with spoon so as to not completely crush all the berries.
6.) Lightly grease cookie sheet (though it may not need to be greased, I just always do this).
7.) Cookie dough is pretty sticky. You can either try to make it into cookie balls as is, or let the dough chill in the fridge for a bit (we did both, and both turned out equally yummy!).
8.) Cook 12-15 mins. Until lightly browned.
9.) Eat 'em all!
Seriously, best cookies ever!
The first thing she asked was if we could make cookies. I told her yes, because 1.) I wanted to keep her quiet and away from J and baby B who were napping and 2.) who doesn't love cookies?
Typically when we make "cookies" they are almond butter date nut cookies (betcha can't guess what's in those!). But we had tons of fresh berries, so I suggested we make some blueberry cookies (and I'd seen a promising looking recipe on Pinterest). But...my computer was too slow and she was getting antsy, so I decided we'd come up with our own cookie recipe.
And it turned out mighty magnificent! Oh, and we totally did not use blueberries. She decided, right before she was to dump them into the mix, that she wanted raspberries instead. So that's what we went with.
But I'll share our kick-butt recipe, because they are seriously addictive! Even J ate handfuls of them, and he rarely does that with treats.
Ingredients:
1 cup room temperature butter
1 cup turbando sugar (I am sure brown sugar could easily be substituted, and white sugar probably would be fine. I'd avoid liquid sweeteners [honey, agave, etc.] as it will make the batter much too sticky, as it is all ready sticky as is.)
3-4tbsp of lemon juice (we didn't actually measure this, just winged it)
2 duck eggs (chicken will obviously work too! You might need to do 2 eggs + 1 yolk...)
3 cups of gluten-free baking flour
1/2 tsp of baking soda
1/2 tsp of baking powder
1 tsp kosher salt
1 package of white chocolate chips
6 oz of raspberries
Directions:
1.) Preheat oven to 350 degree.
2.) Cream sugar and butter in bowl. Then add lemon juice and eggs.
3.) In separate bowl mix flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.
4.) Add dry mixture to wet mixture. Mix thoroughly.
5.) Add white chocolate chips and raspberries. Mix with spoon so as to not completely crush all the berries.
6.) Lightly grease cookie sheet (though it may not need to be greased, I just always do this).
7.) Cookie dough is pretty sticky. You can either try to make it into cookie balls as is, or let the dough chill in the fridge for a bit (we did both, and both turned out equally yummy!).
8.) Cook 12-15 mins. Until lightly browned.
9.) Eat 'em all!
Seriously, best cookies ever!
She loves me, she loves me not...
That's how I've been feeling about my 2 year old all week.
Typically, she's a really good kid. She listens pretty well (for a 2 year old), follows directions, has nice manners, etc.
But this past week, and most especially today, she's just pushing all of my buttons. One second she is sweet, the next I am fairly certain she's trying to kill me in one way or another.
I have tried over and over to figure out what the problem is. Is she not getting enough attention? Does she need more Momma time? Does she need more Papa time? Is she teething or feel unwell? Does she need more sleep. Is she hugry?
I feel like I've tried nearly everything. When she is grabbing baby B by the neck for the umpteenth time, I've tried giving him all the attention. Coddling him and playing it up, so she can see she doesn't get attention for bad behaviour. I've tried putting her in time-out, but that's a joke. Time-out generally doesn't phase her. On rare occasions it does, so it seems I still try to utilize it. But she is pretty content to have to go sit somewhere all by herself. Or occassionally she will get up 50 times, which just driving me nucking futs, so I try to avoid it for my own sanity. So generally I only use "time-out" when she's hysterical and screaming, and in the way of I just put her in her bedroom until she's calmed down.
But still, it feels like there has to be something that works. I, admittedly, hate the idea of being a "mean" parent. As in, my child fears me. But to be honest, I hate the idea of having a hellion even more. So I'm just stuck in this place where I don't know what to do with her sometimes.
I want her to be nice and to obey because she wants to. Not because she is afraid of the consequence if she does not. Unfortunately, I don't know how to make that work. It's a lovely idea, an idea I strongly believe in, in fact, just not one I know how to carry out.
The only minor comfort I have is that we have been around a lot of kids in the past few weeks who are heavy-handed disciplined, and I can honestly say that on her very worst days, my little rascal still looks like a saint compared to most of these kids.
But, in reality, I don't care how other kids behave. I care about how my children behave. They are all I have to worry about at the end of the day.
And right now, my eldest child is trying to push me into an early grave with this defiant streak and apparent loss of her "listening ears."
I guess for now I'll just hope tomorrow is a better day...mostly because J works and I don't think Miss H and I will get along very well if she doesn't change her tune...or I change mine, I suppose...
Typically, she's a really good kid. She listens pretty well (for a 2 year old), follows directions, has nice manners, etc.
But this past week, and most especially today, she's just pushing all of my buttons. One second she is sweet, the next I am fairly certain she's trying to kill me in one way or another.
I have tried over and over to figure out what the problem is. Is she not getting enough attention? Does she need more Momma time? Does she need more Papa time? Is she teething or feel unwell? Does she need more sleep. Is she hugry?
I feel like I've tried nearly everything. When she is grabbing baby B by the neck for the umpteenth time, I've tried giving him all the attention. Coddling him and playing it up, so she can see she doesn't get attention for bad behaviour. I've tried putting her in time-out, but that's a joke. Time-out generally doesn't phase her. On rare occasions it does, so it seems I still try to utilize it. But she is pretty content to have to go sit somewhere all by herself. Or occassionally she will get up 50 times, which just driving me nucking futs, so I try to avoid it for my own sanity. So generally I only use "time-out" when she's hysterical and screaming, and in the way of I just put her in her bedroom until she's calmed down.
But still, it feels like there has to be something that works. I, admittedly, hate the idea of being a "mean" parent. As in, my child fears me. But to be honest, I hate the idea of having a hellion even more. So I'm just stuck in this place where I don't know what to do with her sometimes.
I want her to be nice and to obey because she wants to. Not because she is afraid of the consequence if she does not. Unfortunately, I don't know how to make that work. It's a lovely idea, an idea I strongly believe in, in fact, just not one I know how to carry out.
The only minor comfort I have is that we have been around a lot of kids in the past few weeks who are heavy-handed disciplined, and I can honestly say that on her very worst days, my little rascal still looks like a saint compared to most of these kids.
But, in reality, I don't care how other kids behave. I care about how my children behave. They are all I have to worry about at the end of the day.
And right now, my eldest child is trying to push me into an early grave with this defiant streak and apparent loss of her "listening ears."
I guess for now I'll just hope tomorrow is a better day...mostly because J works and I don't think Miss H and I will get along very well if she doesn't change her tune...or I change mine, I suppose...
Saturday, June 9, 2012
We don't say "no" to our kids
Okay, that's totally a lie! You are probably thinking "WTF?", right?
But really, we try really hard not to say "no." Obviously, we say it. A lot. More than I wish we did some days. But we try to give as many "yes" options as possible.
If Miss H is coloring and suddenly she starts wandering toward a wall or something, instead of saying "Don't color on the walls!" I say "You can color on the paper or in a coloring book. Otherwise, Mommy is putting the crayons up." I try my best to give her better options, and to also clearly let her know what the consequence is if she can't make a better decision.
Now, I'm not perfect. Sometimes I just say "no." Sometimes I'm just too annoyed or spent, and just plain out say "no" with no explanation, no choices. Nothing. And then I typically feel bad about it later. Especially when it's like "Stop kicking me!" (Don't worry, she isn't Satan. She doesn't just randomly kick me. But when she gets into a good tantrum and I get close enough, I'd be a liar if I said it never happened.) More often than I'd like to admit, I probably yell this too. Not scream it, but say it way louder than ever necessary. And quite frankly, I've learned that the louder I am, the less she listens. So you'd think I'd have learned by now...
I truly hate when other people just flat out tell my children "no" for something. With no explanation. With no other option. And without clearly telling them at the very least what the consequence is if they continue doing x (because I really do not believe in consequences with some kind of warning for the most part).
Yep, I'm a crazy, hokey parent. I'm okay with that. Occasionally my children act out. They do not always listen (which, admittedly, drives me insane!). They're not perfect. They certainly have their moments.
But for the most part, they are extremely well-behaved. We are complimented on a nearly daily basis on how well-behaved our children be, whether it be at church or a restaurant. Just today while we were at the fire station looking at the trucks, the fireman was amazed that Miss H was only 2. He kept saying, "She is so well-mannered. She speaks so well." She said her "pleases" and "thank yous" appropriately.
Sure, sometimes she forgets her manners. But it's pretty rare. And her meltdowns and slip-ups tend to be when we are with a lot of people, especially people she does not know well.
But that's okay.
Miss H is 2. She is a child, who with time, will learn. I will not train her like a puppy as I've heard of some people doing. I do not expect her to do as I say all the time, she's got her own agenda! And if we're being honest, I don't want her to be the kind of person you tell to jump and they reply with "How high?"
Sure, my job as a mom might be a bit more difficult, but I hope she questions everything, and continuously. I hope she refuses to be a follower, even if raising a leader kills me. Or makes me go prematurely gray.
So I'll keep my house a fairly "no-free" zone, and try my best to let her do what she wants (within reason...Jaime about died when I let her wander half way across a school carnival without me today. I could see her at all times, and she was fine.) And let's face it, my expectations of my children in some ways may significantly higher than yours (general "you"), and in others may be significantly lower.
So, although I try hard to never say "no", I certainly do. But I will keep trying not to, even if others think that makes me crazy. But really, unless I told you that we try not to say no, would you have even known?
But really, we try really hard not to say "no." Obviously, we say it. A lot. More than I wish we did some days. But we try to give as many "yes" options as possible.
If Miss H is coloring and suddenly she starts wandering toward a wall or something, instead of saying "Don't color on the walls!" I say "You can color on the paper or in a coloring book. Otherwise, Mommy is putting the crayons up." I try my best to give her better options, and to also clearly let her know what the consequence is if she can't make a better decision.
Now, I'm not perfect. Sometimes I just say "no." Sometimes I'm just too annoyed or spent, and just plain out say "no" with no explanation, no choices. Nothing. And then I typically feel bad about it later. Especially when it's like "Stop kicking me!" (Don't worry, she isn't Satan. She doesn't just randomly kick me. But when she gets into a good tantrum and I get close enough, I'd be a liar if I said it never happened.) More often than I'd like to admit, I probably yell this too. Not scream it, but say it way louder than ever necessary. And quite frankly, I've learned that the louder I am, the less she listens. So you'd think I'd have learned by now...
I truly hate when other people just flat out tell my children "no" for something. With no explanation. With no other option. And without clearly telling them at the very least what the consequence is if they continue doing x (because I really do not believe in consequences with some kind of warning for the most part).
Yep, I'm a crazy, hokey parent. I'm okay with that. Occasionally my children act out. They do not always listen (which, admittedly, drives me insane!). They're not perfect. They certainly have their moments.
But for the most part, they are extremely well-behaved. We are complimented on a nearly daily basis on how well-behaved our children be, whether it be at church or a restaurant. Just today while we were at the fire station looking at the trucks, the fireman was amazed that Miss H was only 2. He kept saying, "She is so well-mannered. She speaks so well." She said her "pleases" and "thank yous" appropriately.
Sure, sometimes she forgets her manners. But it's pretty rare. And her meltdowns and slip-ups tend to be when we are with a lot of people, especially people she does not know well.
But that's okay.
Miss H is 2. She is a child, who with time, will learn. I will not train her like a puppy as I've heard of some people doing. I do not expect her to do as I say all the time, she's got her own agenda! And if we're being honest, I don't want her to be the kind of person you tell to jump and they reply with "How high?"
Sure, my job as a mom might be a bit more difficult, but I hope she questions everything, and continuously. I hope she refuses to be a follower, even if raising a leader kills me. Or makes me go prematurely gray.
So I'll keep my house a fairly "no-free" zone, and try my best to let her do what she wants (within reason...Jaime about died when I let her wander half way across a school carnival without me today. I could see her at all times, and she was fine.) And let's face it, my expectations of my children in some ways may significantly higher than yours (general "you"), and in others may be significantly lower.
So, although I try hard to never say "no", I certainly do. But I will keep trying not to, even if others think that makes me crazy. But really, unless I told you that we try not to say no, would you have even known?
Friday, June 8, 2012
What's this thing you call an iron?
I don't iron. Ever.
If I come across an article of clothing that needs to be ironed, I throw it in the laundry basket and hope it makes it's way through the laundry cycle and ends up unwrinkled. For real.
It drives J a bit insane, I think. He doesn't say anything, but he does tend to just kind of roll his eyes. So after I let a basket of clean clothes sit a bit too long...and they all needed re-washed...err...ironed, I decided to give it a go.
J asked me if I was sure I knew what I was doing while I battled opening the ironing board (after I had to ask him where to even find the ironing board and iron...) I told him, "Of course!" He just watched, amused, while I tried everything to get the stupid thing opened and set up. I'm kind of a know-it-all. Okay, I'm really a know-it-all, so after insisting I knew how to set it up, I was not going to ask for help.
And I didn't. After a good five minutes I got it opened.
And then on to the iron.
It wasn't until after everything was ironed well enough that we'd wear the clothes (though still a bit wrinkly), and after I complained that our iron sucked, that J informed me that it helps if you put water in the iron so as to steam the clothes.
WTF?
I guess I'll know for next time.
Or I'll just wash the clothes again. So much easier!
If I come across an article of clothing that needs to be ironed, I throw it in the laundry basket and hope it makes it's way through the laundry cycle and ends up unwrinkled. For real.
It drives J a bit insane, I think. He doesn't say anything, but he does tend to just kind of roll his eyes. So after I let a basket of clean clothes sit a bit too long...and they all needed re-washed...err...ironed, I decided to give it a go.
J asked me if I was sure I knew what I was doing while I battled opening the ironing board (after I had to ask him where to even find the ironing board and iron...) I told him, "Of course!" He just watched, amused, while I tried everything to get the stupid thing opened and set up. I'm kind of a know-it-all. Okay, I'm really a know-it-all, so after insisting I knew how to set it up, I was not going to ask for help.
And I didn't. After a good five minutes I got it opened.
And then on to the iron.
It wasn't until after everything was ironed well enough that we'd wear the clothes (though still a bit wrinkly), and after I complained that our iron sucked, that J informed me that it helps if you put water in the iron so as to steam the clothes.
WTF?
I guess I'll know for next time.
Or I'll just wash the clothes again. So much easier!
Thursday, June 7, 2012
To wean or not to wean
That is the question.
I feel pretty strongly about child-lead weaning, for me, personally. I completely understand that it's not for everyone, and that's a-okay!
But that sure doesn't mean that I don't have days where I fantasize about Miss H weaning. A lot.
I love breastfeeding her, just as I love breastfeeding baby B. I love how sweet they look, how perfectly they fit in my arms. How they get this sense of calm and relaxation about them that only comes when they're at the breast. I love the way it connects us. The way it comforts and makes my children feel secure. I honestly just think breastfeeding is a beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing. Lynch me if you wish.
That being said, and as strongly as I feel about child-lead weaning, I've definitely imposed some mommy-lead weaning on Miss H. Although I don't tell her "no", I do offer her other things first. When she does breastfeed, I always put a time limit on it, and she's pretty good with that.
If she weaned tomorrow, I'd be more than 100% okay with that. Though I certainly wouldn't force her. I realize that it gives her comfort. I realize that when we've had a tough day, or she's feeling like she hasn't gotten enough attention, it's the best way to make her feel connected and loved. I get that.
She is night weaned though. That was completely mommy-lead. I have a lot of negative feelings associated with that. I have a lot of excuses for why I did it too, but at the end of the day no one held a gun to my head and forced me to do it, so I have no one to blame but myself. It's done. It is what it is, I suppose.
But because I felt so badly about this decision, I swore I'd let baby B 100% self-wean, both daytime and nighttime. And I felt very strongly about this.
That is until about a month ago. Then I said no way, this is ridiculous, and chose this very evening as the night we start night-weaning. I don't mind nursing him at night. What drives me insane is that he can't sleep more than 30 minutes without a boob in his mouth. It doesn't matter if it's for nap or at night, in bed or in my arms.
Maybe this makes me extremely selfish. I don't really want to have to hold him or lay down beside him for 12+ hours a day while he sleeps. I get. I'm a bad mom because I want to put my own needs before his. Mostly, I'm okay with this. Or at least I'd like to say that I am. But I do feel badly that I cannot live up to my own beliefs and expectations. At least not happily. And I feel badly admitting that sometimes breastfeeding my child 24/7 makes me unhappy. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But definitely some of the time.
So we've been building up to this day, mentally and emotionally preparing for it. It's not something I can do alone, that's for sure! And then three days ago J told me he was having second thoughts. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. What if baby B doesn't get enough food if we cut night feedings? How can we put his health at risk like that? What if he just screams inconsolably? How is that any different than cry-it-out, which he feels even more strongly against than I do?
Really, he just voiced all of my concerns. And made me start doubting things, too.
This is definitely one of those times where I wish I had a good non-judgemental friend who I could vent this too, and then s/he could give me a 3rd party outsider view. Someone who can tell me that my child will not be scarred for life if I night wean him (I'm not fully convinced Miss H's scary, awful night talking/screaming/crying is not somehow related to forcible night-weaning...).
I have a lot of expectations for myself as a momma. I think it's just natural, as other people always had very high expectations for me throughout my life. I naturally imposed them on myself. Sometimes I just wonder if I expect too much from myself. Then, of course, I immediately think of all the people I know who give even more of themselves to their children than I do, and then it seems crazy to think my own expectations are too high, you know?
So yeah...we are like four hours from Project Night Wean Baby B and I still can't decide if it's a go...
I feel pretty strongly about child-lead weaning, for me, personally. I completely understand that it's not for everyone, and that's a-okay!
But that sure doesn't mean that I don't have days where I fantasize about Miss H weaning. A lot.
I love breastfeeding her, just as I love breastfeeding baby B. I love how sweet they look, how perfectly they fit in my arms. How they get this sense of calm and relaxation about them that only comes when they're at the breast. I love the way it connects us. The way it comforts and makes my children feel secure. I honestly just think breastfeeding is a beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing. Lynch me if you wish.
That being said, and as strongly as I feel about child-lead weaning, I've definitely imposed some mommy-lead weaning on Miss H. Although I don't tell her "no", I do offer her other things first. When she does breastfeed, I always put a time limit on it, and she's pretty good with that.
If she weaned tomorrow, I'd be more than 100% okay with that. Though I certainly wouldn't force her. I realize that it gives her comfort. I realize that when we've had a tough day, or she's feeling like she hasn't gotten enough attention, it's the best way to make her feel connected and loved. I get that.
She is night weaned though. That was completely mommy-lead. I have a lot of negative feelings associated with that. I have a lot of excuses for why I did it too, but at the end of the day no one held a gun to my head and forced me to do it, so I have no one to blame but myself. It's done. It is what it is, I suppose.
But because I felt so badly about this decision, I swore I'd let baby B 100% self-wean, both daytime and nighttime. And I felt very strongly about this.
That is until about a month ago. Then I said no way, this is ridiculous, and chose this very evening as the night we start night-weaning. I don't mind nursing him at night. What drives me insane is that he can't sleep more than 30 minutes without a boob in his mouth. It doesn't matter if it's for nap or at night, in bed or in my arms.
Maybe this makes me extremely selfish. I don't really want to have to hold him or lay down beside him for 12+ hours a day while he sleeps. I get. I'm a bad mom because I want to put my own needs before his. Mostly, I'm okay with this. Or at least I'd like to say that I am. But I do feel badly that I cannot live up to my own beliefs and expectations. At least not happily. And I feel badly admitting that sometimes breastfeeding my child 24/7 makes me unhappy. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But definitely some of the time.
So we've been building up to this day, mentally and emotionally preparing for it. It's not something I can do alone, that's for sure! And then three days ago J told me he was having second thoughts. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. What if baby B doesn't get enough food if we cut night feedings? How can we put his health at risk like that? What if he just screams inconsolably? How is that any different than cry-it-out, which he feels even more strongly against than I do?
Really, he just voiced all of my concerns. And made me start doubting things, too.
This is definitely one of those times where I wish I had a good non-judgemental friend who I could vent this too, and then s/he could give me a 3rd party outsider view. Someone who can tell me that my child will not be scarred for life if I night wean him (I'm not fully convinced Miss H's scary, awful night talking/screaming/crying is not somehow related to forcible night-weaning...).
I have a lot of expectations for myself as a momma. I think it's just natural, as other people always had very high expectations for me throughout my life. I naturally imposed them on myself. Sometimes I just wonder if I expect too much from myself. Then, of course, I immediately think of all the people I know who give even more of themselves to their children than I do, and then it seems crazy to think my own expectations are too high, you know?
So yeah...we are like four hours from Project Night Wean Baby B and I still can't decide if it's a go...
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