Posted in Parenting

Reality Check (This Should be Fun)

It occurred to me recently that there are a few differences between my pre-baby conceptions of life and my post-baby reality of life.  I thought it would be fun to write them out here for everyone to laugh at see.

I’m going to become pregnant really easily like my mom.

Yeah…no!  It took my partner and I 18 months and countless ovulation tests before I got pregnant with Charles.  Though, to be fair, becoming pregnant with Amélie and Elliot was as simple as:

  1. Stop breastfeeding and condoms
  2. Have one cycle
  3. Bam!

I’m going to have quick and med-free labours just like my mom.

Apparently, I didn’t learn anything when my first conception flew out the window.  I had an 18 hour labour with my first complete with my waters breaking in bed at 3am, having pitocin administered at 8am, begging for an epidural by 1pm, actually getting it around 3pm and finally pushing the little bugger out after 45 minutes at 6:36pm.

Amélie’s birth went by more quickly shaving off 10 hours from my previous labour.  Though I still did get an epidural.

As for Elliot’s birth (I’m working on a post for it), well, that one was quick.  Though, I did still ask for an epidural.

I’m not going to bed-share with my babies.

Well, to be fair, I didn’t bed-share with Charles.  Amélie, on the other hand, I slept with on the first night we came home from the hospital and a few others after that, especially during night-long feedings during growth-spurts.  As for Elliot, well, I bed-shared with him at the hospital and then a few more times at home after that.

I’m not going to yell at my kids.

Hahaha, ha, HA!  Yeah, have you ever had a 3 year old?

But seriously, I do try to not yell, but sometimes my bag of tools gets depleted.

I’m going to nurse until he’s 6 months old and then stop once his first tooth comes in.

What I failed to realize in this instance was that teeth can cut before the 6 month mark.  And of course, Charles’ did.  At 5 months, to be exact.  The good thing is that since I really wanted to reach the 6 month mark, I kept nursing him and quickly got over the fear I had of nursing a toothed baby.  This led me to nurse both Charles and Amélie all the way up to their first birthday.  I plan to do the same with Elliot!

I’m never going to buy a minivan.  Instead, I’m going to be a cool mom and have a SUV to accommodate my growing family.

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Meet the (very dirty) “mom-mobile” aka, my fourth child.  I seriously love this thing.

I’m going to be very by-the-book.

Though I am very by-the-book (and a little over-the-top, according to some) with regards to car seat safety, I also have to consider the following with regards to the introduction of solids:

  • I chose BLW over purees;
  • I didn’t follow the 3-day rule;
  • I didn’t follow the suggested order of food introduction;
  • I even *gasp* introduced potentially allergenic food like peanut butter, eggs and salmon before the recommended ages.

However, all of these decisions were reached after doing a whole lot of research.

My kids aren’t going to get any screen time before the age of 2…

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I guess the saying “a picture is worth a thousand words” is appropriate here.

…And they’re not going to play with tablets either.

No, of course not [insert ironic tone].

I should note, though, that we have drastically reduced the time our little ones spend with tablets because Charles, in particular, would become very grumpy and irritable whenever we would allow him even a bit of time in front of a tablet.

Charles is going to start rolling over/crawling/walking/talking very quickly.

Because, duh, he’s my firstborn child so of course he’s going to be perfect!

For the record, he rolled from front to back at 5 months, from back to front at 7 months, he crawled at 10 months, walked at 12 months and at 18 months could only say “mama” and “water”.

I am going to cherish every moment.

And, to quote Katherine over at Welcome to the Nursery: “unicorns [will be] literally prancing around […] with me”.

Because, seriously, as much as I cherish motherhood in general, I can’t say I much cherish being peed on, or vomited on, or bitten, or kicked, or, or, or…

I hope you guys had fun reading these!  Feel free to laugh with me and then share some of your own!

Posted in Parenting

Don’t Dress the Toddler When You’re Hungry

Most of the time, my son is absolutely adorable.  I mean, how can you not love the quest for independence, the tender love he has for his sister, his charming smile and big blue eyes or his profound fascination with vehicles?  Heck, even the mini (and not so mini) tantrums he throws in an effort to develop (and showcase) his assertiveness are adorable in their own way.

There are some moments, though, where I’m just too tired or hungry or hormonal to put up with his antics.

You see, my son seems to think that anytime is good for playtime.  Of course, that can be explained by the fact that, well, he’s a toddler.  He likes it when his father or I run after him and pretend we’re not able to catch him.  It’s a fun game, except when I’ve been sleeping in increments of 90 minutes, haven’t had breakfast yet and he decides to play this game when I have to get him dressed within a certain time frame as was the case last Friday.  Yikes!

I tried to be a good sport and be patient as I ran after him.  I tried to laugh with him as I caught him and brought him to his room.  I tried to distract him with his stuffed animals as I changed his dirty diaper to avoid the mother of all tantrums.  When that didn’t work out and I still had to suffer through the kicks and screams of a very vocal and unhappy toddler (which, on a side note, seems to be my cue to start potty training with him as it is a recurrent event), I tried to stay patient and calm with him.

But I could feel my own emotions starting to overwhelm me as I hung on to my last nerve for dear life.

I started to get him dressed, fighting him to get his clothes on as he alternated between going limp limp a rag doll, twisting and turning, kicking and screaming, trying to run away from me and generally doing everything in his power to make the seemingly simple task of putting a few pieced of clothes on him as hard as possible for me.  And then, as though he could feel that I was on the verge of losing it, he decided to find that last nerve of mine and trample it into nothingness.

And I cracked.

I cracked.  I yelled at him to stay put.  Yelled at him to stop moving around.  Yelled at him to listen to mommy.

And he did, through tears and his own voice screaming my name over and over again as I finished dressing him.  By the end of the near 20 minutes it took me to get him changed and dressed, we pretty much both looked like this:

P1000763I gave him a hug and a kiss and told him I loved him.  But I felt guilty.  Soooooo guilty at yelling at him like I did.  But it happened and I can’t go back in time.  And I am just human, perfection doesn’t exist.  All I can do is know that I love both my kids to death and hope to do better next time.

But damn, this parenting thing is hard some days.