To all of my friends and family out there who currently don't have kids but plan on having one (some?) someday... Please take the time to enjoy your kid-free life. As soon as the kids hit, these will be considered luxuries:
1. Using the bathroom by yourself.
This started off as a paranoid parent thing where you're freaked out that somehow your infant will miraculously figure out how to move, turn suicidal, and then suffocate on the closest, remotely soft thing. I blame all the same folks who tell you that having anything in the crib will kill your child. Soon, we won't be able to put sheets in the cribs. Then baby started getting mobile, and you were genuinely worried about letting him out of sight because he would manage to choke on whatever non-baby-proofed item you have and die. And then baby started walking and figured out how to open doors, and now you're doomed because he's used to being in the bathroom with you.
2. Sleeping in.
To put things in perspective... Sleeping in until 0730 is equivalent to how I used to feel sleeping in until 1000. Now if we are still in bed at 0800, it's like how I used to sleep in until 1100. And if we happen to still be in bed at 0800, the first thing I do is jump out of bed to make sure the kids are still breathing. Because you never know, those crib sheets might just have suffocated them.
3. Staying up late... by choice.
Sure, you'll be up at 0200 in the morning, but it'll be because a small child wanted/needed you to be up, not because there was a cool concert or a late evening with friends at a bar. Oh, and in case you haven't heard, giving a toddler any Mountain Dew is a terrible (really, really terrible!) idea which will guarantee you to be up much later than you desire. That stuff just lives in their system for hours.
4. Going most anywhere spontaneously.
Need to go to the grocery store to pick up the eggs you forgot you needed for a recipe? Not so easy anymore. It now takes me ten minutes to even review the items I need for the kids to go to the grocery store. That doesn't even include the time it takes for me to wrestle kids into car seats or to actually gather up the items on said list. I'm convinced my child will be an Olympic wrestler. And that's just a trip to a grocery store. The efforts involved in planning an overnight trip or (gasp!) a plane ride only increase exponentially. We have a plane trip scheduled for June that I've been planning since January. No kidding.
5. Eating a meal leisurely.
I don't think I need to amplify anymore on this if you've read my post on how to lose weight.
6. Having a coherent conversation with another human being in the presence of small children.
There's more back and forth when talking to other adults in the presence of your children than championship tennis matches. You're lucky to squeeze out a sentence or two before your child wanders off and tries to kill himself on a stuffed animal, concrete sidewalk, or whatever previously innocuous item is nearby. If your friend happens to be patient, you'll realize they've been staring at you... waiting for you to answer the question they asked.... fifteen minutes ago. By the time you've finished "small" talk with your friends, it will be just about time for you to leave.
7. Having no constraints on your clothing choices/purchases.
I look forward to the day when I can even think about purchasing something lovely that requires dry cleaning or something that I don't have to wonder whether I can breastfeed in it. Since Anduin doesn't spit up often, I'm at least past the stage of worrying about whether baby spit up will blend in. And I've given up on wearing "real" shoes that require heels. I'm barely able to walk around in them by myself, let alone toting a toddler and infant while wearing them.
So next time, you kid free people use the bathroom (by yourself!) or sleep in late, having a nice breakfast in bed, dressed in your dry-clean only silk pajamas, and discuss the latest events with someone you love at that cute bed and breakfast you're visiting for a surprise weekend away... Enjoy it. You won't fully be able to appreciate what you have until it's gone.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Let Sleeping Babies Lie
Most of our conversation after 2000 usually ends with, "... and don't wake the baby." As any parent will tell you, especially parents of young children, you do most anything to not wake the baby. Want to watch me perform more acrobatic moves than the Olympic gymnastics team? Watch me try to move from a lounging position on the couch with baby sleeping on my chest to angling baby into her crib without waking her. Niles and I transfer the baby more carefully than some explosive ordnance teams disarm IEDs. Television volumes are adjusted accordingly. We tiptoe around the hallway. In short, we do everything to let sleeping babies lie.
Recently, we have moved Anduin to sleep in the nursery with her big brother, Owen. The problem is that Anduin is a great little sleeper (usually averages 6 hours of continuous sleep at a go) while her big brother is not. When Owen wakes up screaming or crying from a night terror, Niles and/or I swoop into the nursery to try to quiet him down to make sure he doesn't wake up his sister. If there's anything worse than one baby waking up crying in the middle of the night, it's two. And trust me, any parent woken up from a sound sleep to a crying baby will do most anything to get the baby to go back to sleep. That rule about not letting baby sleep in your bed? Broken as soon as you realize it might buy you another hour of uninterrupted sleep. That rule about not giving the baby a bottle of milk because it could cause cavities? Broken because it's easier to use the bottle than to listen to him cry for half an hour. That rule that you won't rock him back to sleep because you're creating sleep crutches? Broken because you would just like to spend the night in your own bed, thank you very much. I have at one point contemplated giving Owen a nip of beer if it would get him to sleep for more than three hours. I didn't since milk's cheaper, but the thought crossed my sleep-deprived mind.
The craziest part of it all is when you finally get that baby back to sleep, and you stare down at him, noticing how his arms are flung in all directions, the little smile tugging at his lips while he breathes deeply, you think, (if you are still capable of coherent thought), "He's just so gosh darn cute and peaceful." The entire process of putting the baby to sleep and keeping him asleep is completely forgotten. People begin to want to see more sleeping babies, which is really how some of us got in this situation in the first place.
And that's the insidious truth. Sleeping babies lead to more babies. Don't do it. At least not yet. Babies will wake up.
Recently, we have moved Anduin to sleep in the nursery with her big brother, Owen. The problem is that Anduin is a great little sleeper (usually averages 6 hours of continuous sleep at a go) while her big brother is not. When Owen wakes up screaming or crying from a night terror, Niles and/or I swoop into the nursery to try to quiet him down to make sure he doesn't wake up his sister. If there's anything worse than one baby waking up crying in the middle of the night, it's two. And trust me, any parent woken up from a sound sleep to a crying baby will do most anything to get the baby to go back to sleep. That rule about not letting baby sleep in your bed? Broken as soon as you realize it might buy you another hour of uninterrupted sleep. That rule about not giving the baby a bottle of milk because it could cause cavities? Broken because it's easier to use the bottle than to listen to him cry for half an hour. That rule that you won't rock him back to sleep because you're creating sleep crutches? Broken because you would just like to spend the night in your own bed, thank you very much. I have at one point contemplated giving Owen a nip of beer if it would get him to sleep for more than three hours. I didn't since milk's cheaper, but the thought crossed my sleep-deprived mind.
The craziest part of it all is when you finally get that baby back to sleep, and you stare down at him, noticing how his arms are flung in all directions, the little smile tugging at his lips while he breathes deeply, you think, (if you are still capable of coherent thought), "He's just so gosh darn cute and peaceful." The entire process of putting the baby to sleep and keeping him asleep is completely forgotten. People begin to want to see more sleeping babies, which is really how some of us got in this situation in the first place.
And that's the insidious truth. Sleeping babies lead to more babies. Don't do it. At least not yet. Babies will wake up.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
An Apology to Owen
Owen,
You're my first child so you're sort of a guinea pig when it comes to my parenting attempts. I just want to say..
I'm sorry...
that you spent most of the winter, spring, summer, fall, winter, and then spring again with a cold since I let you lick the equipment in the mall play area and eat food off the floor (even public ones)
that you were exposed to Criminal Minds, Game of Thrones, Law and Order, and other violent television shows since you were born and only recently stopped letting you watch them. I hope they did not cause your nightmares
that you inherited my love-hate relationship with most vegetables, meaning we love only about four vegetables unconditionally (sugar peas, carrots, asparagus, and broccoli) while disdaining everything else your dad tries to feed us
that I have let you get overly tired often because I'm too lazy to really instill a proper bedtime routine that every parenting book, website, television special talks about
that I never bothered to childproof anything so that containers of bleach and other potentially dangerous items become your play things
and that I let you climb on most anything (rocking horse, couch, cars), risking your life and limb.
Perhaps your visit to the emergency room on Tuesday was just my penance. After all of the dangerous or semi-dangerous mistakes I've made, you end up hurting yourself by tripping over a toy... and catching the lid of your toy drum (which is not sharp at all!) in such a manner to create a half inch gash over your eye.
Oh, and I'm really sorry that I doubted we needed to take you to the emergency room. I'll confess, I was just going to apply pressure and ice until it stopped bleeding. And maybe some neosoporin. But your dad's much better about this sort of thing and insisted that we at least take you to your pediatrician to evaluate whether you needed to go to the emergency room.
And I'm really, really sorry that we subjected you to some medicine that stung when applied to your cut and had to use a head wrap to keep the medicine in place. And that you can't understand why the doctor kept blocking your view of Elmo's World with sharp scissor things and a long string. And if it becomes a really nasty scar (like your dad is absolutely convinced it will) because I don't remember to apply sunblock to it when we're out in Hawaii...
I'm really, really, really sorry, Owen.
You're my first child so you're sort of a guinea pig when it comes to my parenting attempts. I just want to say..
I'm sorry...
that you spent most of the winter, spring, summer, fall, winter, and then spring again with a cold since I let you lick the equipment in the mall play area and eat food off the floor (even public ones)
that you were exposed to Criminal Minds, Game of Thrones, Law and Order, and other violent television shows since you were born and only recently stopped letting you watch them. I hope they did not cause your nightmares
that you inherited my love-hate relationship with most vegetables, meaning we love only about four vegetables unconditionally (sugar peas, carrots, asparagus, and broccoli) while disdaining everything else your dad tries to feed us
that I have let you get overly tired often because I'm too lazy to really instill a proper bedtime routine that every parenting book, website, television special talks about
that I never bothered to childproof anything so that containers of bleach and other potentially dangerous items become your play things
and that I let you climb on most anything (rocking horse, couch, cars), risking your life and limb.
Perhaps your visit to the emergency room on Tuesday was just my penance. After all of the dangerous or semi-dangerous mistakes I've made, you end up hurting yourself by tripping over a toy... and catching the lid of your toy drum (which is not sharp at all!) in such a manner to create a half inch gash over your eye.
Oh, and I'm really sorry that I doubted we needed to take you to the emergency room. I'll confess, I was just going to apply pressure and ice until it stopped bleeding. And maybe some neosoporin. But your dad's much better about this sort of thing and insisted that we at least take you to your pediatrician to evaluate whether you needed to go to the emergency room.
And I'm really, really sorry that we subjected you to some medicine that stung when applied to your cut and had to use a head wrap to keep the medicine in place. And that you can't understand why the doctor kept blocking your view of Elmo's World with sharp scissor things and a long string. And if it becomes a really nasty scar (like your dad is absolutely convinced it will) because I don't remember to apply sunblock to it when we're out in Hawaii...
I'm really, really, really sorry, Owen.
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