Mother Daughter

It’s really weird being in this mother/ daughter phase isn’t it?  I’m finally in a place where I’m the mom – and I love that- but I’m still the daughter too.  Talking with my mom the other day, up came all the things we tend to talk about, and it went to her worrying about me and my sister.  Nothing specific, just general worry.  Enough sleep, enough fun.  Stress free, carefree.  Weight loss, no pregnancy.  Highlights, lowlights.  You know, just the regular things.

When it comes to my 21 month old daughter, the biggest thing I worry about right now is her being happy.  I hope the giggles and smiles and goofiness stay a very long time.  I’m sure I have more grey hair now since the two kiddos and I definitely look 10 years older.  How does that happen?  Oh right, less sleep, more worry and the crazy.  But you know what?  I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I hope my relationship with my daughter is as good as I had with my mom.  Even better actually.  There was so much we never talked about, and I wish we had.

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I’ve missed you

I don’t know how some people have time to blog.  Is it in place of a journal?  A full time job?  I don’t have a journal, but I do have a full time job and 2 kids under 4.  And a husband.  And a dog.  So, while I think of this blog often, it’s rare that I prioritize it enough to be here.  Maybe if I start thinking of it as a journal/ diary.  But I don’t typically write in one of those either, and besides, that would certainly be boring.

My husband and I have a deal. An unspoken deal. His grandmother, living in New Zealand, doesn’t have internet access.  So periodically I’ll get some pictures of us and the grandbabies printed and send them to her via snail mail and slow boat.  I hand hubby the stack of photos and say, pick the ones you want, and pick out a few for your mom, who denies it but hates email and digital photos, and I will write a note and address an envelope for you and MAIL THEM.

I don’t know why I do it.

Yes I do.  I love his nana and mom.  They are awesome. And while he is close to them, I can’t bare to think that they won’t see pictures of their grand children, or great children, because their son/ grandson, is too lazy to send them some hard copies.  So here I am tonight.

We watched episode 3, season 1 of Spartacus (holy cow) and now I’m finishing my wine and thinking of what to say to them.  Hi.  Here are pictures of our kids.  They are getting big.  Look at the hi-jinx they get into! Look at the adorable-ness.

I don’t know.  Anyway.  To the two people reading this, hello.  I’ll do better.  I hope all is well with you.

Side note: the other day at work I signed an email to a third party, “take care, Katie” copied a colleague and the colleague said, wow, that’s harsh.

What do you mean?

Well, take care is kind of like f-off.

What?  No it’s not.  It’s a sincere closing in an email.

Right?

 

Vacation Walk

I took an 8 minute vacation today.

I love spending time with my kiddos.  My husband and I work full time and I cherish the time I have with them before and after work.

On the weekends, of course exhaustion sets in at about 2pm.  Our 3 year old and 17 month old wake up at 6am ready to go and it’s basically non-stop.  But I don’t need to tell you about that do I?

So this afternoon we’re in the park with all three kids (1 is a dog).  After we all play for a while I say I’ll take the dog back to our place, across the street, and we’ll all go to the playground.  There were a slew of kids there and I didn’t feel like dealing with finding a place to put her out of reach of grabby kids.  As I was leaving the park, alone, with the dog, my husband minding the two kids, who had not napped, yells: “Enjoy your vacation walk!”

Yes, that 8 minute walk to our place and back, was a vacation of sorts.  But I missed the crazy that only comes after a weekend of crazy followed by an afternoon of no naps.  Tell me you know what I’m talking about.

Just When I Think I Have It Figured Out

I think I have a balance in my life and then something happens. A child gets sick or work gets to the point where it’s near overwhelming.  I think I’ve got it down to a science, and then the boat gets rocked.

Just when I feel like I’ve reached a calm, good spot, I get an overwhelming feeling that I’m not doing great at anything, just doing a half-assed job at everything. Anyone else?

Tomorrow will be better.

 

It’s going well – I think

Baby girl has now had 3 physical therapy appointments for her torticollis and her PT says it’s going pretty well.  By the time she’s 1, in August, her head should no longer have that adorable tilt to the left and she should be back on her baby development track. On her way to crawling, walking and running amok.

I had no idea what to expect but it’s basically a lot of exercises to stretch and build muscles and exercises for us to do with her.  It’s been a little fun even.  Except when she cries because this strange woman is trying to massage her back and legs and neck.  Have you seen my baby’s legs?  They are huge.  They look a lot like this:

That’s right.  Her juicy, fat thighs are full of rolls and squeezability.  I’ll take an actual picture that will put that turkey leg to shame.  Hmm, evidently squeezability is not recognized as a word by WordPress.  Neither is WordPress.

Anyway, thank you for the good thoughts and vibes on her PT.  Now go outside and do something fun with your family like I plan to.

Tell your son not to chase the geese!

Maybe I’m crazy. Definitely a little, but not clinically. Tell me your thoughts on this.  The fam and I were at a park on Sunday where there were about 100 geese scattered over about 2 acres of grassy hills by a lake. My little 2 year old boy sees the geese, which he loves, and walks towards them. The geese, sensing the presence of this force, walk away. Smart, those geese. He starts running with a focus that only a 2 year old boy who dreams of petting goose can have. Then, with the attention span of a 2 year old boy he veered off and ran to the sand pit. 20 minutes later we see more geese. I say, let’s go talk to the geese. So we walk, he runs. Let me preface this with the fact that no matter how fast he runs, he is not going to catch a goose. And besides, I’m next to him, not so much to protect the geese because he’s not getting anywhere near those smart birds, but in case one does do the wild animal thing and turn around to see if his fingers taste good or make a big goosey production of flapping their wings and honking. Which would be fair right? They are wild animals.  I just want to make sure no one gets hurt.  And also, there are no eggs or babies running around yet.

Back to the story, as I’m walking next to 2 year old wonder boy, a man comes jogging up to me across the park, out of his way, and asks me to tell my little boy “not to chase the geese. This is their home.” Am I out of line?

I basically tell him that he’s not hurting them, not getting anywhere near them and that he loves animals and is interested in them. That’s all. The man points out a goose to us and points out his hurt wing that looks broken and says “that one has a hurt wing.” I tell him that he’s right, it does look broken, but my little boy didn’t do it. That he’s in fact a little kid and interested in all animals and I am here to be sure he doesn’t hurt them and that he doesn’t get hurt. What better way to learn than to be here. There is no “don’t chase the geese” sign posted. Just a sign that says to not feed the wildlife, and we didn’t, and to not throw stones in the lake, so we stopped.

Is this a thing? Kids can’t chase a goose?

It’s not that bad

In the scheme of life things, this is nothing. But my baby girl has a head tilt. Torticollis. One neck muscle is shorter than the other and when she sits up her head tilts a little to the left. We just met our new pediatrician (just moved) and she noticed this. Baby girl is 7 months old and just mastered sitting up a few weeks ago. When she sleeps her head is always to the same side. I thought it was just a cute thing, but no. You can’t tell when you’re holding her, just when she’s sitting, so we didn’t see anything before now. Good news is that a little physical therapy for a few months should straighten it all out and she’ll be fine. But if the doctor hadn’t noticed, it would get progressively worse. Isn’t that interesting? I had never heard of it before. I am very thankful for the good health of my family and my two kiddos.

I tell you what though. As minor as this is, I teared up at the doctor’s office. I hated hearing that something wasn’t quite right with our baby girl. Look at that smile! Look at those chunky thighs! Nothing could possibly be wrong with the future first female president of the United States.

Our first PT appointment is next week. Did you know that physical therapy is sometimes done on newborns? I had no idea. I’ll keep you posted.

Awake! Play! Eat!

My little boy has been coming in to our room each morning when he wakes up.  That’s fine. We leave all our doors open ajar at night.  The funny thing is that he chooses one of three words to wake us up.  Awake, play or eat.  And it’s in a whisper.  Sort of a creepy whisper actually. awaaaaaaakeplaaaaaaay.    eeeeeeeat.  He sounds like he could be in some type of haunted house.

And he always brings at least one train in with him.

The un-funny thing is that he ALWAYS comes to my side.  It doesn’t matter if I pull the covers over my head or am asleep, or pretending to be asleep.  It’s my side.  Which is sweet, and I try to embrace it and get up and psych myself up and be happy that I have time to play with him… but ugh.  At 6am it’s a bit tough.

I was going to try to capture the audio on the whispered wake ups, but that would require me getting up earlier. So no.  You’ll have to use your imagination on that one.

I’m having a hard time

I’m having a hard time.  As everyone is, I’m juggling a lot, and there is this thing in the back of my mind that is distracting me from other things that are definitely more fun and interesting.

That thing is this: I told my husband I’d be fine with moving to Australia, to be closer to his family.  I told him this before we were married, about a dozen years ago.  We met in Australia, his family is split between Australia and New Zealand, and my family is in California.  When we were young, childless and full of our own awesomeness, I said of course, let’s move to America for a while and then of course, lets move back to the Southern Hemsiphere to be near your family.  Why not? We have no ties.

Now we have 2 kids and they are adored by their grandparents here in California.  Their only grandkids.  It will just kill them, not literally, but really hurt, if we move away.  And I want them to visit their grandparents more than once a year.  Husband’s parents have 6 other grandkids, not that it’s relevant really, but sheesh.  I know, Husband needs to see his family, fair enough.  I’ll be the first to say he doesn’t spend near enough time with them and he misses them, and he wants his parents to know our kids.  Fair, right?  I know it’s fair, and right.  but still.  I really don’t want to.

Ugh.

Money and poo

So, apparently my salary will cover day care and my husband’s will cover rent. Thank you Bay Area.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving the closeness of my family and actual civilization, and the weather, and the culture, and the beach, and the general awesomeness, but yikes. I guess awesomeness comes with a price.

Toddler boy is 26 months old and baby girl is 6 months.  The crazies have moved in.  Toddler is certainly testing the waters, and his parents in every way he can, but he’s also loving his little sister.  What he calls “my baby”, which is pretty sweet, especially when he brings her her toys, completely unprompted.  Baby girl is rolling over and drooling all over herself.  It’s such a fun age, but I suppose they all are.  I’m just trying to enjoy the 2 year old right now while recognizing that all kids go through this stage and it will be okay. Right?  It will be okay right?  They are pretty fantastic and I love them to bits.

In other news, if I hear one more person tell me that their little boy wasn’t potty trained until he was 4 I may scream.  That’s not right.  There must be something between applying a little assertiveness and waiting until he is ready because I can tell you that we are not looking forward to 4 year old boy poop.  No thank you.  I’ll bribe him with whatever, but I’m done.

Please tell me your thoughts on this one.  He’s not interested in stickers or seeing progress on a chart leading to a reward.  He’ll tell us when he’s gone, after the fact, but not before.  He’s interested, to a point.  Really, sanity is at stake people.  What say you?

Also, I’m in the final stages of interviews for a new job, wish me luck!