Don't Go Breakin' My Heart

It is amazing to me how you can be going along your day (in a generally merry way) and then something happens and that same day starts spinning out of control around you. Well, that was our Friday. It seemed a normal day, a good morning. We headed for gymnastics, and I was thinking about the small list of errands to run later that day. I debated whether we should stop somewhere for lunch or just run through the errands and then head home to eat because I needed to clean the floors (among other things). A typical morning in a typical week.

Kyrie had a substitute for her gymnastics class, and Degen's class was quite small (summer vacations, I'm guessing). He was acting his usual spastic-gymnastic self! He was getting great height on the trampoline, showed some good balance on the balance beam and was literally running into his forward rolls. As is also usual, he was being ornery and I more than once had to snatch up his wriggly, giggly body to set him back on the directed activity.

We headed towards our third rotation at the 'cheese pit,' and I was delighted to see him complete a 'bear walk' for the first time (walking with hands & feet on the parallel bars). However, we were near the preschool gym, which he loves and his attention for the current activity was waning. He climbed on top of one of the giant 'marshmallow' blocks and was playing with a set of rings. He playfully ran across the block when I tried to get him to come down. Feeling just as playful, I scooped him up in my arms and cradled him baby-like to me while gently admonishing his silliness. Then with a kiss, I tossed him onto the 'marshmallow' pad we were standing on (as I had done several times in the past). He landed, and the smile he had on his face in the air changed to a grimace and a cry.

Now, if you are acquainted with two year olds, you will know that this instant transformation from happy to sad is pretty common. I cannot count the number of times that Degen's laughter has turned to Degen's screams over something as simple as his sister clapping at the end of a cartoon in the car (don't ask me why, but he gets very angry when she does this). I walked right over and picked him up, thinking that he was only upset that I had done something that he didn't initiate. I held him close and reminded him that he was 'just fine,' but quickly realized that his angry cries seemed more than angry and that he wasn't calming down.

There, right there, that second was the second that we all know: when the dread floods our hearts and the only questions that our brains can hold are "What just happened? What did I do? What did I do?" I looked at his arm, and I just knew. Literally, less than one minute from toss to hold (I know that you are already disbelieving that I could know), but I looked at his forearm and it just looked funny to me. I remember thinking that it looked floppy and swollen and just, well, broken. I took 2 steps to where his coach was helping another child with their bear walk and said, trying not to let the panick overtake me, "Coach Amy, I think he just broke his arm." And then, we were running. Looking back, I realize that this was in no way a life-threatening emergency, but there is something about clutching a child who is screaming in pain and the realization that their body is broken that makes you want to rush and race and run. We ran to the ice machine where she gave me a bag of ice (which there was no way that Degen would let me hold on his arm) and then she ran to get Kyrie and our things.

Feeling the panic rising in me, I did what I always do when I panic and tried to call Darren, he would know what to do. But my cell phone had no reception in the gym. At the front desk, I asked to use the phone and quickly told them what happened in an effort to explain my barely controlled panic. They were immediately concerned and asked if I wanted them to call me an ambulance. Panic or no panic, I told them that I could drive us to the hospital (after all, it wouldn't be the first time I had driven with a screaming child in the back seat).

My mind was already racing as to where we would go, visions of our 'home' hospital where I had given birth to both kids were immediately on my mind, but they reminded me of the nearby hospital that we passed every time we came to the gym. I was headed there. In the car, Degen's screams were even louder. I tried to call Darren and left another message. I feared he was in a meeting, the all-day kind he often talked about at dinner. I tried to call others, needing a calm voice with whom I could share my panic. No answers. And then there was the hospital and I missed the turn and then finally we were parked and walking in.

The ER was empty, and I was grateful. I told the nurse why we were there and then we sat. Pitifully, Degen cried to be nursed and I could not refuse him. As soon as he latched on, he was peaceful. His eyes fluttered closed as I stroked his hair. We waited less than 5 minutes, and I consider it a blessing that in those 5 minutes before being whisked to our room where I once again had no cell reception Darren called. As always, the calm to my panic he assured me that the fault was not mine and said he was on his way. I cannot even describe the love that I had for that man at that moment. It is one thing to call your husband and say that you damaged the car or clogged the sink, it is an entirely other thing to call and tell him that you have damaged his child.

Now, I have to interject here that though at this time my thoughts & emotions were wrapped around the part that I played in Degen's injury, I do realize that it was an accident and that I am not 'guilty' of anything. I don't blame myself or think I'm a horrible mom, but I also cannot deny that I am responsible. Not guilty or at fault, but responsible. I feel bad the way any parent feels bad when their child is hurt under their watch. And trust me, when faced with the question, "What happened?" No parent wants to have to say the words, "I threw my child." Yes, it sounds a tad less harsh when you add phrases like, "at gymnastics" "playfully tossed" and "onto a giant, foam pad," but those words do not entirely negate those 4 little words you must honestly speak at the start. I am eternally grateful that this injury happened in the gym with at least a hundred people around because at that point, having someone question the innocence of the situation probably would have been my emotional undoing.

Back to our room in the ER, where I was nursing Degen again (he howled pitifully when I stopped to carry him back to the room) and nurses started to collect information. Someone handed Kyrie (who was absolutely the best behaved child you could possibly imagine) an old book & stuffed animal and placed another stuffed animal on the bed for Degen. After the initial info was collected and all had retreated, Kyrie asked, "Mom, what are these?" I explained that the nurses were trying to make her comfortable by giving her these things to look at while we waited. "Oh," she replied, and dutifully turned the pages in the book.

Degen was weighed, and then I was told that I should stop nursing him because they didn't know if they would need to do procedures that required an empty stomach. He fussed when I cradled him to my shoulder, but he was exhausted and did not move as the Nurse Practitioner examined him and seemed pleased when Degen did not yowl with pain. For one small moment, I thought that maybe it was not so bad, maybe it wasn't broken. Then everyone left the room again, and he screamed and cried with pain, and I cried, too.

A few minutes later, we were walked to radiology and a nurse mercifully gave me a syringe of Ibuprofen for Degen. In the radiology room, the world spun out-of-control again. Too many times in my life have I had to hold down my panicked & screaming children for medical procedures, and every time it is like a piece of my heart is being torn from my body. The radiologist struggled to hold Degen's arm steady for the x-ray. Fighting against every parental instinct I have, I, too, applied my firm hands to his shoulder or his fingers trying to still their movement and ignore the frightful, panicked screams of Degen on my lap. Each time the radiologist moved Degen's arm, twisting or turning it to capture every necessary angle my stomach rolled, my heart ached and I silently cried out, "what are you doing? you can't do that. his arm is broken."

Finally, they had the x-rays they needed, and the kindhearted radiology nurse walked us back to our room. She cheerfully chatted with Kyrie and when we reached the room she gave me a long, tight, reassuring hug. Tears filled my eyes and I mumbled something to her and she gave me another hug before leaving the room. I found the TV remote and put on a cartoon. I swayed with Degen on my shoulder until his body grew heavy with sleep. Someone from the hospital came to collect our information and then Darren was there. He stroked Degen's sleeping head and held me briefly while I cried into his shirtfront. We answered questions, and I caught Darren up on what had happened thus far. His calm and reassuring strength stabilized the world and my emotions.

The NP returned with the x-ray results. The arm was indeed broken, both bones in the forearm showed tiny cracks at their edges. With such tiny cracks, I am uncertain of how I knew with such certainty that the arm was broken: mother's intuition, I guess. The NP talked with us about how the arm would be splinted and then within the week we would need to make an appointnment with an orthopedist to have a cast applied. Two ER paramedics splinted the arm while Degen slept. Our visit to the ER was wrapping up. We were given instructions, asked our questions, Darren requested a copy of the x-rays (something I never would have thought to ask for, but we need for our orthopedic visit), Degen woke up and we headed into the bright sunshine that waited outside the ER's doors.

In the car, Degen was out-of-sorts with his "robot arm" as I started to call it, but he was happy with some stickers and a juice box. At home, he didn't want to be babied, so I let him be. Sadly, I realized that our summer would not be ending the way I had planned: no swim lessons, no gymnastics for Degen, uncertainty about play dates to splash pads and playgrounds.

It's been a few days now, and Degen is doing really well. Our vows to keep him inside and calm went out the window the same day as the break. He wants to be with Kyrie going up & down the stairs and running outside, and his robot arm does very little to slow him down. Any attempts to reign him in are met with tears and screams of protest. I am good to keep him dosed with Ibuprofen or Tylenol, not wanting the pain to get ahead of him.

His arm is supposed to stay dry and we talked about keeping him out of the bath entirely, but for a child who is used to taking two and three baths a day that resolve did not last long either. Our first bath with a bagged arm did not go very well (too thin, newspaper bags), but the second (with a sturdier bread bag) kept the arm dry. I was unable to find a child's sling at CVS to help him handle the weight of the splint, but was able to fashion a sling using an ace bandage that worked well enough. Our appointment to the orthopedist is set for Tuesday afternoon.

What a Deal!!!

I got all the items above for .51. That's right: .51! Well, technically, that's not correct because I'm actually going to get more than $11 back in rebates and I still have about $1 left to spend! I used my Staples Rewards to purchase most of the items (plus 2 lollipops for the kiddos), including the packs of paper which were only .25 apiece after the rebates. Then I stopped off at CVS (looking for a sling for Degen's arm) and got a $4 rewards coupon at their Extra Care kiosk. I found the bottle tops on clearance and picked up two boxes of tissues that were on sale. Wow!  It felt really good to save that kind of money for my family!

Kyrie enjoying her lollipop!

Like Rabbits

This is the pile of shoes that sits at our back door. No matter how often I gather up the shoes and take them to their respective homes, they will return to this spot... and they will multiply... like rabbits. Despite this phenomenon, somehow we still need to buy new shoes.

Photo Albums

In case you haven't noticed, I have figured out how to post my Shutterfly projects on the blog. I use about three photo sites, but have to admit that Shutterfly is my favorite. They can be a little pricier, but I think they have quality products (and they also have great promotions).  I find their site easy to use and generally like their editing features with my one complaint being that you cannot make exposure adjustments (eg. brightness, contrast, etc.) with their editing tools. Now that I post so many photos on the blog, I usually fix those kinds of things prior to downloading them to a photo site, so it's not as big of an issue as it once was.

As you can see, I have created five Shutterfly albums, and I really love them (and so do the kids). They look absolutely professional, and I know that they will be treasured archives for our family. In college and just after, I did a lot of Creative Memories scrapbooking. I have a handful of those albums, which took a lot more time to create, but they definitely have a more personal touch. After creating these books on-line, I question whether or not I will ever get back into the CM-type of scrapbooking (although I do have a lot of supplies in Rubbermaid in the basement).

I have to share that I do keep a bit of the old scrapbooking concept going with calendars for both kids. It started out with the 'first year' calendar I completed when Kyrie was a baby. I loved jotting down all the things she was doing and adding new pictures each month. So, when the first year was over I got a 'second year' calendar, and when I finished that... well, they don't make 'third year' calendars (at least not that I could find). So, I made a calendar of my own and the next year, I found out that you could buy blank, 'scrapbooking' calendars. These are even more fun because I can add several photos and seasonal stickers to each month. I continue to jot down all the kids' daily activities (I completed first & second year calendars for Degen, too, and now keep a scrapbooking calendar for him), as well as achievements, occasions, new skills, illnesses and funny anectdotes, though I admit that I am not nearly as precise in the details as I was when Kyrie was a newborn.

I have talked about these calendars with Darren, wondering when I will stop making them. He told me that he rather likes the idea of someday being able to give our children a literal account of their childhood days. Can you imagine being able to look up almost any day during your childhood to find out exactly what you were doing? It is kind of cool! I want to be able to give that kind of gift to my kids. I just got a catalog in the mail last week, and I plan to place my order for two 2012 calendars and more stickers.

Hair Today... And Gone Tomorrow

Okay, so I am going to try my best to write about this situation, but I am already starting to cry just thinking about typing out the words. Feel free to think every bad thing you can think about what kind of mother I am, and I can assure you that I have already thought them about myself, but here it is:

On Wednesday night, just as we were talking about putting Degen to bed, Kyrie came up and told us that she had cut Degen's hair. In the dim room, I couldn't really tell if she had and Darren and I questioned if she was pretending or not. I quickly demanded that she bring me scissors. With assurances that she was just playing, she brought us a pair of plastic scissors that barely cut paper. With a sigh of relief, we reminded her that we don't cut hair and sent her off to play.

After I put Degen to sleep, I went downstairs to remind Kyrie that her bedtime was fast-approaching that she needed to begin cleaning up. On the floor, I saw what I at first thought was a ball of fiber, which is not unusual to find on the floor when you have two kittens running around tearing up anything they can find. I bent down to pick it up and was immediately horrified to find that I held in my hand a large mass of Kyrie's golden hair. I looked at her with terror, searching for the damage from across the room and asked, "what have you done?" For the briefest of moments, I imagined that the clump in my hand just appeared to be significant in its size and that nothing was noticeable. Then as I approached Kyrie and turned her shoulders, I saw the cut hair was just deceptively clinging to the other half. She had managed to cut off nearly one whole side. I shook my head, shock setting in and went back to Darren. I held out the clump of hair to him and said, "Look what she did. Her hair is gone. It's just gone" I didn't yell or scream or threaten. I just started to cry and spent much of the next 12 hours crying.

We took her into the bathroom and I got the scissors. Darren looked at me in slight horror, not fully recognizing all the damage that had been done. Through my tears, I choked out that I had to finish the job, that we couldn't leave half of her hair just hanging there. I would take her to the salon tomorrow so they could clean it up. Then I held the remains of her wavy, golden tresses and ran the scissors through. I couldn't bear to throw it away, so while Darren tended to Kyrie, I tied the hair with a bow and placed it in a bag. Then I opened the bathroom cupboards and took out our baskets of ribbons and brushes and ponytail holders. The sight of them renewed my tears. I went through them all and tucked away all, but the clips. I knew that seeing them in there every day would only break my heart anew.

Obviously, Kyrie had lied about not cutting her brother's hair and lied when she brought us the plastic scissors. I found her school scissors lying on the bookshelf when I went back downstairs later that night. I gathered up every pair, even the plastic ones and put them away. I honestly don't know how I will handle it when I have to give them to her during our next lesson.

The next morning, I took both children to the salon. Only under the salon's bright lights did the damage to Degen's hair become truly apparent. It was bad. Kyrie had run the scissors through all over his head, cutting the hair nearly to the scalp. The stylist apologized several times, tsking over her task. His hair was cut as short as a newborn's with several too-short patches all over. Kyrie's stylist was able to clean up most of her cut, but had to leave the side that Kyrie had cut uneven because she couldn't stand the thought of how short she would have to cut the remaining hair to even it out.

We are about two days out from the incident. Kyrie has responded in typical Kyrie-fashion; it is both beautiful & frustrating to have a child who doesn't care what others (including her parents) think about her. And me? Well, I'm still struggling. I have tried to explain as best as I can why I am as heartbroken as I am. I know that my continued melacholia over such a trivial, non-crisis is downright ungrateful behavior, but there are so many emotions that I have wrapped up in the whole thing.
I could start by saying that the end of last year and the start of this year have held some very difficult situations for me and my family. So, I was already in a precarious position emotionally. Then I would try to explain all the ideas I've held onto about what it has meant for me to have a daughter, that the time I took in washing her hair, brushing it, plaiting it, finding just the right bows to match her outfits... those everyday moments that we shared meant something to me, that they were clearly part of my definition of what it meant to have a daughter. Wrongly or not, I have invested emotional value in those golden locks on my only daughter's head, and now they are gone.

Childhood is fleeting, and as parents, I feel like there are a thousand ways we try to slow down that clock. Yes, mostly we only fool ourselves, but it is a trickery most parents are wont to give up. The day is coming, we know it: they can do 'it' themselves, they start school, they have their first sleepover, their first date. And for me, it was this haircut. In a moment, I lost my little girl in pigtails.When I look at Kyrie now, I see such a grown up girl. Her short hair gives her an air of maturity that her long, blonde waves had concealed in a fairy tale whimsy. My little princess is gone.

I could keep walking you in these circles, pulling apart layer after layer of emotion trying to explain to you why I am heartbroken. Maybe some of you understand, and maybe most of you simply think that I am an awful fool of a mother. "It's only hair." "It will grow." "Short hair is so easy." I know these things, I do. I am grateful that it was not worse, I am grateful that I have the privilege of having a beautiful & intelligent daughter at all. I know that is itself  the greatest thing. Appearance does not really matter. She understands this. I have told her again & again that I love her very much.

But still my heart feels fractured... I struggle. The shock is still too new, the hurt still fresh. Maybe years from now, I will look back and laugh on this like everyone says...  but I'm not altogether sure that I have that kind of sense of humor.

Well, if Kyrie didn't resemble Darren before, she surely does now. Her short 'do emphasizes her large eyes, which (aside from color) are just like her Daddy's.

 The right side is where Kyrie did her cutting, and it remains shorter than the rest. Hopefully, in a few months we will be able to even both sides out.

 I wish Kyrie didn't have such a fake smile in this photo taken in October, but I loved how beautiful her hair looked in it.

 I am grateful that Degen has such light hair, so that the thin patches don't seem as striking.

So, why did she do it? Within weeks of this incident, she had made several statements of how much she loved her "long, beautiful hair." If she fussed at having her hair brushed, I told her we could get it cut (and I meant it. We would have cut it, though never this short). So, what led us to this? She has made several statements that kind of reveal her child's logic behind the action.

1) I think that part of it is just the age and that this is what kids do. Most of us took scissors to a doll, stuffed animal, pet, sibling or ourselves- there is something so alluring in the power of scissors.

2) In explanation for why Kyrie has needed to have her hair trimmed in the past, we would tell her that it was necessary to cut away the 'bad' hair so that her hair would be healthy and grow even longer. Kyrie has told us that she cut her hair so it would be longer.

3) On Monday, Darren took Kyrie to see the movie "Tangled," which is a variation of the story of Rapunzel. At the end of the movie, they cut Rapunzel's hair. Kyrie has said many things, including "I just wanted to be like 'Tangled.'" that point to the movie as being an impetus for her actions.

My Life Without Pictures

I am not one who has a camera glued to her hand. There have been many happy, fun, "momentous" occasions in which the camera has been forgotten. Generally, I am not too saddened by these times because I do feel that there is something missed in the moment when you are witnessing it through a 2 inch screen on the back of a metal box. That being said, I love pictures... actual pictures that come in envelopes and you put in frames or scrapbooks or shoe boxes to save for later. Our family lives so far away, that I feel it is important to capture as many moments of our children's lives as possible. I hope that through the photos that I post on this blog or send through the mail that grandparents, aunts, uncles, special friends will feel like they are able to watch our children grow up and share in that special journey. Sadly, we have now been without a camera for weeks that are turning into months.
At first, I didn't really notice or care that we didn't have a camera. I missed the photos from our Memorial Day visit to Virginia, but felt better knowing that others had taken pictures. Summer has started off slowly, so there haven't been an abundance of photo opportunities, plus the kids got their summer portraits done so we had photos to send to family. However, in the last few weeks I've felt some pangs of sadness at the small moments that I would have liked to share, but have missed.
At VBS last week, the roar of the kids was amazing. I would have taken a small video of the 200+ crowd singing, dancing and cheering, especially Degen dancing and clapping to the music. And when Kyrie went on-stage at the VBS carnival and sang & danced with the other kids, I wish I could have gotten video of her "performance."
Last night, Kyrie road her big girl bike all the way to the neighborhood park. It was the first time she'd ridden anywhere other than our driveway. Within minutes of us setting off on our trip (me jogging alongside her), she looked back at me, and I wish I could have captured that moment. She was wearing a long, turquoise tank top and her blonde hair spiraled down her back from underneath her purple, flowered helmet. When she looked over her shoulder at me, she had this amazing look of pride & happiness with just a tinge of surprise. It was amazing! I also would have wanted the picture of her riding "far" ahead of me, so independent and confident.
Degen's babbling is just now barely starting to become words. (I'm not worried, Kyrie was a "late" talker, too.) He CAN say "Daddy" & "Momma," though he rarely does. He knows a handful of signs, but just grins when you ask him to use one. When the moment is right, you might get a "whee" or an "uh-oh," if  you're lucky. That's why I was so surprised  last week when I heard him singing, "ash-eh, ash-eh" and turning around. He'd picked up the concept of "Ring Around the Rosie" from Kyrie, and it had made an impression. This boy loves music, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that he started singing before talking. In the past week, we've sang "Ring Around..." more times than I can count prompted by little Degen's "ash-eh, ash-eh." I would make a short video of that to share with you.
The other night, I peeked in Kyrie's room after we put her to bed and our cat, Brutus was curled up on the pillow next to her. It was very sweet, and I wish I had a picture of it even though it probably would have been difficult to make out the scene in the room's low light.
Degen's hair is getting long. It curls a lot in the back, so you can't really tell how long it is, and I don't have the heart to get it cut. The past few nights after bath, the top has begun to curl back like a Kewpie doll's hair. It is absolutely adorable. I would like a picture of that too-cute curl on the top of his head!
The splashing in the pool, catching fireflies with Daddy, Degen in his new Cozy Coupe.... I need a camera because as much as I want my memory & heart to hold all these pictures as clearly as I do now, I know that they will get jumbled and lost in the weeks, months and years that fly past. 
Independence Day is almost here, and I'm not sure if we'll have a camera by then or not, but I hope so because I know that even though we don't have any plans, we do have kids and they're gonna do something too cute to miss. And you'll miss it, and someday I'll miss it, too.

Goodbye... Hello

The past month has been incredibly busy. The past few weeks have been incredibly exhausting. The past few days have descended into chaos. We are currently surrounded by the disarray of boxes and furniture in our new home. Moving took more than 12 hours and we ended up driving around Columbus near midnight looking for a hotel room. We were grateful for the brief respite from the chaos.
Darren and I spent the previous weekend working from morning until late at night trying to finish our share of painting and repairs at the new house. My hands are still swollen from gripping paintbrushes and rollers for so many hours day upon day. The walls are painted, but the bathroom (our only full bath) is still undone and the kitchen is unusable as it is currently being prepped for tile and has become a collection point for all remodeling refuse. Luckily, we were able to shower and bathe the kids during the several trips we made to the rental to finish gathering odds & ends. Now the keys have been handed over, and there's no turning back. 
Walking up the stairs in the rental, there was a small moment of quiet and I reflected on the old house. When we arrived nearly five years ago, we were but children. Yes, I was in my late-20s and fully ensconced in the responsibilities of marriage and the working world, but still there is a freedom and youthful spirit that exists before your life becomes your children's. In this house, I grew my children from seed and kept their newborn bodies tucked closely to me as I walked the halls. I found just the right way to rock & sway so that the floors would not creak and watched their happy play in the bath. In this house, I folded away my youth and took from its closets the clothes of motherhood as I built cribs and placed our family memories in frames on her walls. This was a good house.
But this new house shall be our home.

Almost There...

It's amazing how quickly a month passes when you are an adult. I had this discussion with a contractor a few weeks ago: time is relative to the life you have lived. When Kyrie turns 8 years old, she will have lived a whole additional lifetime, so it makes more sense for her to yell "BUT THAT'S FOREVER!" when I send her to her room for a 10-minute time-out. I still don't appreciate it, but I understand it. Time for me is tripping by at a steady pace. The days are full and there's always something going on or something to look forward to, so I mostly don't mind the pace of the ticking clock. That is unless I have a house requiring some major remodeling and an entire household to pack up, which I do!
So, our month to remodel and pack is flying by. We have less than two weeks to do our part of the remodeling and pray that the contractors do their part. We have about ten days to finish packing up our house and then actually accomplish the move. I have to stop typing sentences like that, or I'm going to get a little freaked out. Right now, it seems that we vacillate between feeling on the edge of accomplishment to feeling overwhelmed by all that remains undone. Progress feels within our grasp, but our reach is not quite long enough.Tick-tick-tick goes the clock.
Life doesn't stop because you have a long to-do list either. Kyrie still wants to see her friends and there are classes, appointments and programs that were set on the calendar before we ever circled the date for our move. Darren goes to work and Degen fusses over his newest molar. The house is a mess. Let me clarify: both houses are a mess! Everything will wind up in a box or the garbage, so a pile of mail gets ignored and stepping over forgotten crayons just seems easier to do since you're already walking around stacks of boxes anyway.
But there's beautiful sunshine! We've had at least a half dozen picnics in our new backyard and every trip we make to the new house feels more like going home. Our new neighborhood has children near Kyrie's age, and she's already been off to play on a few occasions. One afternoon, Darren pulled Kyrie and a new neighbor friend around the yard in the wagon of the riding lawnmower. If I had ever worried that buying a fixer-upper would stress my marriage, I was wrong. Somehow, I feel closer to Darren than ever before. I love that we share in our toils, in our plans, our aches & pains and whatever comes our way! It's hectic and expensive and work, work, work, but it's ours and that makes it good!

Out of Sync

Well, at this point I am having trouble remembering my last good night's sleep, but if I look at Degen's calendar I can find that last week he slept 11 hours straight. Then we adjusted the clocks for Daylight Savings Time, and it seems that we've had nothing but trouble since. I was fairly used to Degen waking one or two times a night, but in the past week he's been up four to five times each night and struggles to go down despite the "blackout" measures I've added to the windows. I feel like we've got a bit of a perfect anti-sleep storm: time change, teething (looks like we've got another molar on deck), a cold and some separation anxiety. I'm still trying to figure out a new bedtime, dose with pain reliever as needed, lay him down with the shirt I wore for the day...it just seems like I can't do enough to help him find and keep his sleep these days, which is frustrating for both of us. The first night was really difficult, but now I just expect that I'll be up (a lot) and it is what it is. Keeping calm and going through the motions to get him (& me) back in bed as soon as possible are my main focuses.
Though the nights have been difficult, the days have been a lot of fun! Degen has become a little monkey-man in the past few weeks. He is a climber, and it doesn't take but a moment for him to be up or down the stairs, sitting on a shelf, on top of Kyrie's desk, sliding off the bed or lounging on the couch watching his favorite shows! If I leave the room for a moment, I don't know where I'll find him when I return. Of course, he usually doesn't let me get out of sight for long! Darren has gotten really good at playing distraction for Degen so that I can get something... anything done. After dinner, Darren will roughhouse with both kiddos. One of their favorite games is car chase, in which he pushes Degen around the house on his little car chasing after a screaming Kyrie. Listening to those three play in the evening is a true joy for me!
In other family happenings: we have begun packing for our end-of-April move. It didn't take long for us to figure out that it will be difficult for me to do much packing (or anything else, truly) during the week while I have both kids by myself. So, we are trying to take advantage of our weekends and do as much as we can. This first weekend has gone well, as we've completed three big packing categories: pictures, knick-knacks & books. My hope is that we'll be able to complete 2-3 categories each week/end and be ready to move in about 6 weeks. We close on the new house this Wednesday!

Crazy!

I don't know what sleep-deprived lunatic wrote that last post, but this sleep-deprived lunatic just wants some sleep! Amazing how the tenderness of motherhood can so quickly turn into the frustrations of motherhood: seems to take about one (bad) night! Love my baby boy, but hope that he doesn't have another night like last night!

Sleep

The recent time change has a lot of people considering sleep. I think that we, as parents, spend a large amount of time concerned with sleep: my sleep, your sleep, kid's sleep, interrupted sleep, no sleep. Generally, I have found "Is s/he sleeping through the night?" or some other variation of that question is one of the most popular questions in the early days of parent-dom. We're pretty big fans of sleep in our home. Darren goes to bed early and gets up early while I like to stay up later and sleep in, and we both like 8 to 10 hours a night.
Of course, being a parent means that what you like doesn't matter a whole lot. Being the parent of a newborn means doing whatever you can to get that precious snooze. We kind of fell into co-sleeping with Kyrie because I was so wounded after my c-section that I couldn't get up to put her in the bassinet, but it soon became something that we embraced. Co-sleeping felt right to me: safe and peaceful and most especially, the easiest way that I could both tend to my baby and get the sleep that I needed. Kyrie co-slept with us until she was about 10 months old and then transitioned easily into her crib, though I still got up with her during the night when she fussed. Choosing to co-sleep when Degen was born was easy and natural, and we enjoyed an easy transition to the crib when he was about 8 months old.
Currently, Kyrie is a good sleeper though she likes to stay up late (like Mommy). And Degen is a good sleeper, too: early to bed and early to rise (like Daddy), though he will still wake during the night. Most pediatricians will tell parents that they can cut out those mid-night feedings, but I count myself lucky to have a pediatrician who understands that no one understands my babies more than me. Degen has not handled "crying it out" well at all; what starts out as a cry will flare to screams fanned by his baby temper. It's simply easier to go to him, hold him, nurse him and then put him back in his crib after a few minutes. So, that's what I do. Recently, Degen has had some great nights where he's slept 10-12 hours, and I'm grateful for the uninterrupted sleep. These nights are like gifts, restorative to body and soul.
However, on the nights when he does wake up I'm trying not to be quite so disappointed/frustrated/grumpy. I know that those middle-of-the-night cuddles will be coming to an end soon. My kids will grow, and I'll have night upon night of great sleep.... well, at least until they're old enough for sleepovers and dates and barely making curfews. So, I'll get up to tend to my babies when they need me and make my way bleary-eyed through the day until I can try to catch a few minutes more sleep at nap time. I'll try to be grateful for the nights when Degen sleeps through and grateful for the nights when he needs me, too. And now, I've got to get ready for bed because I never know what the night will bring!