An Adventure in Unpreparedness

Last Sunday, we experienced one of those holy sh*t type parenting adventures where we were utterly surprised, somewhat stressed and a tad unprepared for a very necessary milestone that my son had to undertake.

My rambunctious and fearless little boy decided that being just shy of 20 months meant it was the perfect time for him to free himself from the confines of his crib and proceeded to repeatedly jump, climb and pull himself out of his cage crib during bedtime. 6 times.

Yes, his crib was lowered to the lowest setting. No, he doesn't have any extra blankets or pillows that he was using as a 'step' to help lift himself out.

The one thing that you need to know about Keaton is that he is a very strong-willed little dude. Right from the moment that he came into our lives, his personality was very apparent- he knew what he wanted, what he liked, and what (and who) he didn’t. He is determined and fearless when it comes to adventure and he will stubbornly figure things out until he achieves exactly what he wants to achieve. Hence his new found crib-escape-tactic.

For the sake of his safety and my sanity, we only had one option- it was time to give him a Big Boy Bed.

We quickly scrambled to rearrange his room since by this point, it was already an hour or so past his bedtime and we were all a little tired and frantic. Out went anything that he could potentially climb on or fall over (bye-bye glider) and we removed any enticing objects from the tops of his dressers (adios picture frames and lamp). Lastly, we took off one side of his crib, added the little guardrail, and turned his crib into a daybed.

We hadn't planned on making this transition until closer to his 2nd birthday (honestly, the plans that we make are sometimes laughable). But it had to be done.

New setup- not too shabby for a hasty room revamp!

The night was long. And it was rough. For all of us.

Now, both my husband and I are supporters of gentle, Cry-It-Out methods when it comes to sleep training. Contrary to the many, many opinions of Mothers whom I both admire and respect, CIO worked for us. We tweaked it in a way that made us feel comfortable with our choice and it definitely helped our kids learn some healthy sleeping habits. However, since both of my kids successfully learnt how to fall asleep on their own at a pretty early age, I found myself feeling almost physically and emotionally unable to handle the persistent, pissed off crying and the wilful pounding and kicking against the door that very clearly expressed his outrage regarding this new sleeping arrangement.  It definitely wasn't something that I was prepared for, especially since his big sister graduated to a Big Girl Bed at 20 months and had no issues whatsoever. No tears, no kicking, no feelings of extreme guilt on my part. And while I know that it's pointless to compare the kids because their personalities are so different, I was still shell-shocked and unprepared for his reaction. Bedtime in our house is usually quick. Easy. Quiet. A quick hug and a kiss and they're out for the night. Not tonight.

I definitely had a - “what the hell am I supposed to do?” moment.

Do I lay with him until he falls asleep? (But what if he wants me to do that every night).
Do I keep doing the [go back in, cuddle, kiss, leave] routine? (He gets more and more pissed off every time I come in, just to leave again).
Do I just leave him in there and let him eventually cry himself to sleep? (No. He's well past the point of being able to calm himself down and fall asleep peacefully).

I felt awful. It was starting to look like the WORST First Night in a Big Boy Bed. Ever.

Cuddles

There were a lot of tears. Lots of cuddling, lots of rocking and shushing. But eventually, he fell asleep on his own. On the floor. Beside his door.

At least he was asleep.

 

It's been just over 1 week since his Big Boy Bed adventure began and every night has gotten so much better than the last. It's amazing. I fully admit that I had very little faith that he would get it and get it so quickly. I foresaw weeks and weeks of the crying and the door kicking and the guilt. But no, he is a trooper. He's a sweetheart. He's awesome.



With every passing night, he'd sleep closer and closer to his crib.

 

On the verge of falling out, but it still counts as being "in" the bed.
 

YES!

I'm a firm believer that you can never really be prepared to become a parent. Sure, there are definitely ways and things and people that can help guide you towards being somewhat prepared. But are you ever really prepared? No. You have no idea what kind of little (or big!) personality is going to be making its way into your life and altering your family dynamic. Even if you’re already a parent, bringing a fresh little being home is a completely new and unique experience than the others. Are you a little more prepared to handle the crying? Yes. Are you more equipped to handle the colic, the projectile vomit and diaper-explosive poops? Yes. Are you a little more calm? Yes. But are you really prepared for the adventure ahead? No. 

I am in constant awe at how much my kids are not only able to surprise me, but to teach me. They teach me that I have more patience than I think I have. They teach me to have a little more faith in their ability to learn and overcome these somewhat stressful milestones. And they remind me that I need to just soak in the moments- even the crazy ones - because they pass so quickly. 

December 2012. This little munchkin was 20 months and all excited for her Big Girl Bed.
Look at those cheeks! I miss that baby face. 

While Keaton lay in bed trying to calm down and fall asleep during that first night, I lay beside him, rubbing his little head and his little back and I forced all of the worries and doubts about what was to come out of my mind. My focus was on the moment. All I kept thinking was, he will only have his First Night in a Big Boy Bed once. And the adventure that we shared that night was incredible.

This weekend, we were are all so excited to find a real Big Boy Bed for Keaton. One that he will grow into and keep until his toes reach the foot boards and that he'll maybe even bring with him when he moves out...if I ever let him.

Here I go, over-planning and over-thinking again...

 It's official. A Big Boy Bed, complete with Ninja Turtle sheets for my Little Man.
Don't even get me started about how nostalgic I feel about not having a crib in my house anymore.

I hope you all had a wonderful and adventure-filled weekend with the little loves in your lives.

Xo
M

40 days.

When I was younger, Lent always meant that I’d have to consciously ignore my sweet tooth for the next 40 days and temporarily say goodbye to chocolate, ice cream, cake, and all other forms of sugary happiness. Nowadays, as an adult, I find myself looking at Lent a bit differently.  Apart from the 40 day ‘sacrifice’ that is meant to strengthen and test my will in an attempt to understand, even a little bit, the ultimate sacrifice that I believe in, I also try to look at the next 40 days as a way to strengthen my core, my faith and the center of who I really am.

For me, Lent is a humbling reminder to stay true. True to myself and true to the values that I cherish the most. My faith has always been a very personal and important part of my life. There were times that it wavered. There were times that I doubted. There were times that I questioned. Sometimes, I still do. And I think that’s ok.  It’s hard to see The Plan amidst feelings of sadness, anger and confusion. But my faith and the journey that it’s taken me on has always been a crucial part to my story. Regardless of the shadows and my fears, I choose to believe and to hold on to hope.  

The world is constantly changing and it is easy to lose yourself in the chaos and the demands of it all. I hope that the next 40 days bring me peace, guidance and wisdom. I hope to remember to stop and pause and appreciate the good and the blessings that have come my way. I hope to impart the gratitude that I have to my children and to continue to educate them on our faith in a way that nourishes their minds and hearts, rather than confines them. I pray that this Lenten season helps me to continue to focus on the positives in life and to nurture the relationships that truly matter – both physically and spiritually.

Wishing you all a little peace this week.

Xo

M

Working Mom Guilt…TGIF

It’s weeks like this one that really make me excited for the weekend. 2 days (actually, luckily we have a long weekend, so it’s 3 days!) to shut-off from work and the weekly stresses, and to just hang out and soak in some quality time with my husband and kids. It’s been a long, demanding week for Derek and I. A break to focus on our family unit and to give the kids some extra love and attention is seriously needed.

Occasionally, I feel it – the Working Mom Guilt. For the most part, my kids are pretty well-adjusted to me being a working Mom. They know their routine- Mondays and Fridays they get to hang out with their Lola in the morning and spend the afternoon with their Nanny. The rest of the week, they’re in school, having fun and learning a ton with their little classmates and their amazing teachers. When we all converge at home at the end of a long day, they know the drill- dinnertime, playtime, bath and bed. Some nights, Derek and I are both home and the kids get equal (and tons of) attention. But these days, more often than not, he’s working. So I’m busy splitting my attention between the two kids while attempting to make a reasonably healthy dinner.

But, it’s a system. We have a flow. We have fun. And it works.

But some days, it doesn’t.

Some days, the kids are exhausted from school and have skipped a nap or two. Some mornings, they’re woken up earlier than they’d like (sorry Keaton!), in order to make it to school on time, and that sets the groucho tone for the rest of their day. Or, some days, like a few days this week, they just miss their Mom.

You can tell – the way that they cling on to you for dear life the minute that you walk through the door, with that sloth-like grip that says, without words – you better not leave me again. The way that they make sure that if you ABSOLUTELY MUST put them down, even for a second, you’re within arms reach. The way that they move their chair next to yours at the dinner table, because suddenly, sitting across from you is much too far away. You can just tell. I can tell. And then, once they’re asleep and you finally have a moment to yourself to breath, you feel it. At least I do. Sometimes. The Guilt.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love working and having responsibilities and skills apart from being a Mom. I love the sense of accomplishment that I feel at work and I love the necessary adult and social interaction of it all. I know the reasons why I work and I’m at peace with it. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel bad. I feel bad knowing that there are not enough hours in a day to give my kids the attention that they want and need. I feel bad that sometimes, dinners are often rushed and late and I’ve forgotten to put vegetables on their plates. I feel bad because my daughter wakes up at 5:30 every morning during the week, just so that she can talk to me before I leave for work, even if that means she’s exhausted by lunch. (I’ve tried to tell her that she can stay in bed, that she should try to get more sleep, but she counters with- “no Mom, I’m going to miss you so I want to see you before you go and maybe keep Dad company while he’s exercising”. Fair enough.)

And trust me, I know, I tell myself all the time – “they’re happy, they’re fine”, “they’re little, they’re resilient”, “they’re too busy having fun throughout their day to really miss me”.

But still. Sometimes, that guilty feeling just sucks.

So, I’m grateful. I’m grateful for the weekends (and long weekends) where I can shut off a part of my mind, even for a few days, just to focus on these little faces who brighten up even the most frustrating, exhausting weeks.

My little workout buddies.

I’m so excited to spend a few days soaking in as much of these little beings as I can, because I know the day will come when they won’t rush to hug me as soon as I walk in the door and my body will miss those sloth-like hugs.

 

Seriously. I'm so blessed.

 

I hope you all have an amazing long-weekend, spent with your favourite faces.

Xo

M

Namaste.

The company that I work for currently offers a mix of Yoga and Pilates during lunch, once a week. It’s wonderful. It’s a great way for me to escape the stresses of the day and to just focus on me, even if it’s just for 50 minutes or so. I actually spend most of my lunch hours in the company gym, attempting to strengthen myself not only physically, but mentally (unless I’m in crazy party-planning mode like I was a few weeks ago). It’s a fantastic break away from reality and surprisingly, I emerge more refreshed and ready to tackle whatever challenges that come my way for the rest of the day.

For Valentine’s Day/our (dating) anniversary this year (yes, we most definitely do still celebrate our dating anniversary- why not celebrate *us* more than once a year?), rather than the usual and completely unnecessary shiny gifts, my husband has decided to get me something that I actually want, need and would love. So he’s tasked me with the job of researching and finding Yoga or Pilates (or both) classes that I want to try out and join, and he’ll do the rest of the work and sign me up. This is something that I’ve recently been talking to him about - the need for at least an hour, one evening, once a week, out of the house and away from work, where I can further focus on myself and really strengthen my physical and mental core. Thankfully, my husband  is amazing and understanding. He's always been a fixer. He has the ability to really hear my needs/stresses/concerns and find a way to fix it and put my mind at ease. I'll never deny it, I'm very lucky. 

So, similar to my plea for help in finding the perfect organizer (which I’ve finally found, thanks to all of your helpful tips and suggestions!) I’m putting this out there in the hopes that someone can recommend any classes or programs that have worked for you and helped fuel your own passions for physical and mental well-being. Since I already cross a bridge twice a day, 5 days a week, I’m looking for something a lot closer to home and something that will not only challenge me, but will continue to help energize and refresh my core for whatever adventures lie ahead.

I hope that you're all able to relax and enjoy a little 'me' time this week!

Xo

M 

Hello Monday.

I sometimes wonder why Monday’s seem to have a bad reputation. And then Monday a crazy Monday comes around and I realize why. Yesterday was definitely one of those days. One of those – “there’s too many things to do and not enough time to do it” days. One of those- “I don’t think I can catch my breath” days.

Stress. I hate it. I wish I didn’t have it. I try, every day, to fight it off. To keep it at bay. To not worry about the little things and to ask for help, if needed, with the big things. Exercising is a huge stress reliever for me. So is snuggling with my kids, until they literally tell me “no!” when I ask for more hugs (I’m mostly rejected by my son, who is often too busy climbing and dancing to give his Momma some love. My daughter is the cuddler. One of the very best.)

More than a few times yesterday, I caught myself sinking into that all-too-familiar, easy-to-find place of anxiety. I’d quickly try to flutter it out of my mind before something else popped up that would easily bring me back there. My poor husband called me in the middle of the day, only to get blindsided by a long-winded rant that probably seemed to come out of nowhere (Sorry babe. But thanks for the lunch that you made for me!).

I used to hide my stress better. I used to have a handle on it. Until my body called my bluff and completely took over - one morning I woke up with stress eczema and it’s never left my side. The frustration of not being able to get rid of it (or sometimes even hide it) adds to my stress- a nice vicious circle.

Anyways, yesterday was one of those days. One of those days where I really needed to work hard to pull myself out of a frustrated funk that I could’ve easily stayed in. Instead, I sucked it up and honed in on the positives. Was it absolutely crazy for me today at work? Yes. But I still managed to find a few minutes during my morning to call my kids and hear how fun their day was going. Does my husband have to work late tonight, meaning I’ll be missing an extra set of hands with dinner and the kids? Yes. But luckily I had prepared for dinner before work and would only need 15-20 mins or so to make it once I got home. Was I already stressing about how the rest of the week was going to go, especially because the days don’t appear to look any less stressful? Yes. But I came home to the cutest faces, the best hugs and an insane amount of cuddles from both (yay!) kids. So honestly, I’m not going to complain.

I’m going to choose the bright side. I’m going to choose the cuddles over the complaints. I’m going to choose the positives.

 

A fuzzy iPhone pic still captures the best part of my day.

Bring on the rest of the week. I’ve got this.

 

Xo

M