Call me Mother of the Year.
First of all, I must apologize to my loyal readers... all twelve of you. I have abandoned you in your need for sarcastic mommy moments. I'm truly sorry. And truly sleep-deprived.
There is a reason I haven't been writing. Peanut, Boomer and I would like to announce that Peanut is a very proud big brother! Tula came screaming into our lives at 1:11 in the afternoon on September 9. Yes, I know. 9/9/09. My midwife is still laughing. For the record, Tula is the Norwegian word for doll. It's appropriate because she is a little doll. Practically perfect in every way. Thus says the completely biased mommy.
Peanut is an amazing big brother. He loves talking about his Tula, trying to hold her all by himself (not happening), and showing her how to put shoes on and talk. We're still trying to grasp the concept that babies cannot talk, but so far that's the only sticking point. His entire preschool class celebrated with him- I suspect they were happier with the cookies I sent, but whatever. Plus, I now have the bonus of listening to my brilliant, empathetic son sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" as soon as he hears his sister crying. My heart melts every time. Cutest thing ever.
Make no mistake, I'll be writing more often. Let's face it, I have twice the kids to write about! Twice the love and pride in my kids! Twice the sarcasm! Let the ride continue!
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Not Today
Call me Mother of the Year.
Or not. I'm not feeling like Mother of the Year. I'm feeling more like an exhausted scrap of motherhood who's been run over by a tantrum-throwing preschooler.
Today started at 5:00 a.m. because Peanut decided that he was done with this sleeping nonsense. It needs to be said that Boomer kept sending Peanut back to bed in an effort to stave off what would end up being 3:00 p.m. exhaustion. Being a child who knows what he wants when he wants it, Peanut refused to sleep.
The only good thing about this is there were no tantrums at school. I asked.
Suffice it to say that as soon as Peanut came home, the demands started. And the tantrums when the vast majority of said demands were refused. Thus the four time-outs. And the cancellation of the park playdate. No way was I inflicting a tired Peanut onto an unsuspecting public.
Make no mistake, tantrums aren't a new event around here. They had, however, taken a hiatus and I was happy for it. I know how to deal with them, but it's more difficult now that I'm a week away from a C section and trying to help Peanut understand the major changes his life will take.
For now, Peanut's over being angry with me. He's digging in his sandbox, and earlier we broke out stories. I'm remembering that while his behavior is my problem, it isn't my fault. More than likely, he's just exhausted. I'm seeing an early bedtime in his near future. Mine too, come to that.
And now that I have at least some of my mommy confidence back, you may use my title again.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Or not. I'm not feeling like Mother of the Year. I'm feeling more like an exhausted scrap of motherhood who's been run over by a tantrum-throwing preschooler.
Today started at 5:00 a.m. because Peanut decided that he was done with this sleeping nonsense. It needs to be said that Boomer kept sending Peanut back to bed in an effort to stave off what would end up being 3:00 p.m. exhaustion. Being a child who knows what he wants when he wants it, Peanut refused to sleep.
The only good thing about this is there were no tantrums at school. I asked.
Suffice it to say that as soon as Peanut came home, the demands started. And the tantrums when the vast majority of said demands were refused. Thus the four time-outs. And the cancellation of the park playdate. No way was I inflicting a tired Peanut onto an unsuspecting public.
Make no mistake, tantrums aren't a new event around here. They had, however, taken a hiatus and I was happy for it. I know how to deal with them, but it's more difficult now that I'm a week away from a C section and trying to help Peanut understand the major changes his life will take.
For now, Peanut's over being angry with me. He's digging in his sandbox, and earlier we broke out stories. I'm remembering that while his behavior is my problem, it isn't my fault. More than likely, he's just exhausted. I'm seeing an early bedtime in his near future. Mine too, come to that.
And now that I have at least some of my mommy confidence back, you may use my title again.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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