No Rest for the Weary

So maybe I have done a little too much bragging about my precious little Reaga-Rudy-Booty. He's the perfect baby! He eats well! Sleeps well! He never cries! Most of those traits remain true for Reagan.

Except for one.

One very (VERY) important one.

In the past few weeks, Reagan's sleeping has gone from great to fair to down-right horrible. How horrible? Here's my sleep log for him from last night:

8:00pm - asleep after nursing.
10:45pm- fussing. Mark calms and gets him back to sleep.
11:30pm- whimpering. Pat his back, rub his head, back asleep.
11:53pm- crying. Nurses. back to sleep by 12:07am.
1:47pm- fussy again. Try to let him resolve on his own in hopes he's just stirring...no luck. Orajel
on gums, cuddle, pat, back to sleep by 2:05am.
3:01am- crying. Tried patting and cuddling. Put down but woke back up. Nursed on one side for
a few minutes but then stopped. Rocked, cuddled, asleep by 3:36am.
4:40am- moaning and groaning. Sitting up in bed. Ended up walking and bouncing him back to
sleep. Asleep by 4:51am.
5:30am- wide awake. Attempted good ol' fashion swaddling and held him close. Asleep by
6:00am.
6:40am- awake for the day

Does this sound like any of your children? For your sake, I certainly hope not. Maybe I have just been spoiled. Regardless, this has turned in total nonsense. If my math is correct (which considering the lack of sleep, it may not be) other than the very first chunk of sleep from 8-10:45, the longest he slept at any given point was one hour and forty minutes! That's worse than a newborn! Sheesh!

So what's the culprit? Part of me is hoping and praying that it's just his teeth. He finally had one come in a few weeks ago and another that has been bulging for a week or so. The other part of me is hoping it's not his teeth. Uh, hello! There are TONS more that still have to come through! I can't keep this up forever! We had his grandpa check him out and it's definitely not an ear infection. No fever either. Not too hot, not too cold. And the funny thing is, besides generally sleepiness, he's relatively happy during the day. Whatever is bothering him that much at night doesn't seem to be bothering him during the day. Grandpa gave one suggestion that's also a possibility. He said that babies begin dreaming around 9 months of age and this could be what's waking him so abruptly in the middle of the night. Hmmm...plenty of suspects.

Really, who knows what's to blame. All I know is that I'm hoping and praying that it stops soon! I try to keep myself healthy, but this little issue I tend to stuggle with (lupus) is not very fond of lack of sleep. I've been looking back through several sleep books in hopes of discovering some little trick or technique that might be better for Reagan. How can he go from sleeping so well for so long to barely sleeping at all!?! I have faith that it will eventually resolve itself.

But faith isn't making it any better right now! I love my little guy and would gladly sit up all night with him, but I have to be healthy to be a good mom and give Reagan everything he needs. And Kolbe too! Sleep is required! But then again, who am I to complain. I'm on here typing a dadgum blog post instead of taking a nap. (but of course, that's just because Reagan is sleeping...which I know will be short lived. Why tease myself with a nap!?!)

For the Love of Lists

Ok, I have to admit I have a slight obsession with lists. It used to not be so bad, but my nearly year-long trek as a stay-at-home mom has turned it in to utter nonsense. Luckily, as of now, I'm pretty sure that no one knows about my list obsession. Well Mark may have an inkling. Every now and then I'll leave one out on the counter and I'll catch him reading it over. Laughing.



Lists are perfect for every occasion. Groceries, items to get at Target, things to be done before tomorrow, stuff to get Mark for Christmas, goals to reach before next year...the list of lists goes on and on. But it's not just the number of lists I have, but habits in keeping them as well that makes this practice so ridiculous.



Everything, and I mean everything has to be listed. For example, on my regular weekly "to-do" list, I have everything from "laundry" (which should be assumed) to "thank you note for so-and-so" (which realistically could be forgotten if not included on the list). But that's not it. When it comes to cleaning, I insist on listing out each room. "Vacuum boys' room", "vacuum office", "vacuum family room". It can't just be "vacuum the whole house". Stupid, I know!



And many items on these lists are simply wishful thinking. Do any of you honestly think that "take down and wash all glass light fixtures" will get checked off any time soon? Or how about "scrub down kitchen table and chairs" ??? I think not. I suppose they are just things that I recognize as needing to be done and I simply don't want to forget. So twenty-some-odd years from now when I have the time....



I know; I'm probably starting to sound a bit crazy. Which might not be too far off. But please, let me explain why I love lists:

1. They make me feel organized.
2. They are the memory that I'm somehow lacking ever since I became a mother. Ever heard of Mommy Brain???
3. In a world where I often feel like I get nothing accomplished other than a few dirty diapers changed, even just one, simple, left-handed check mark on that paper can be so satisfying!
4. And in extreme cases, getting multiple items checked off the list or (gasp!) and entire list completed, I actually feel like somewhat of a super hero.



Ahh. Wasn't that a lovely, non-check-needing list!



So, you see, adding each individual room in my cleaning endeavors is merely a way of rewarding myself. It's kind of like the little kid who gets to put a sticker on his chart every time he does a chore or goes potty in the toilet. Way to go, Laura! You got seven check marks today! Pathetic, I know.



And you should see me when we travel. A list for me, a list for Kolbe, and a list for Reagan. But seriously! Who wants to get on the plane or fifty miles out of town and realize they forgot their toothbrush or phone charger!?! Not me. The list is the perfect thing to prevent this tragedy. And I've even been known to type out my travel packing list and print not just one, but two copies so that I can have one for the return trip home. (a whole new set of check marks! Sweet!)



But my most shameful admission has yet to be mentioned. Embarrassingly, I have made it a practice to add things to my lists that have already been accomplished. For example, the other day I headed out to the garage, dust-buster in hand, determined to clean out the back seat of the Camry. Upon returning inside, I headed to my list to mark it off. In disgust, I realized that "vacuum out back seat of car" was no where to be found! I did something and was not going to be rewarded with a check mark! This just could not be, so I jotted it down to the bottom of the list and proceeded to check it off immediately. (Borderline OCD, right!?!)



But alas, if my little list ritual helps get me through the day, it's probably fairly harmless. Still, I somehow feel a little better and not so weird just by explaining my love of lists on here. While I doubt any of you are as ridiculous as me in this habit, I'm sure many of you love the comfort of lists as well. I'm not the only one. Right? .....Right!?!

The Early Bird...

Typically I would follow such a title with "gets the worm." However, my little early bird never seems interested in eating at all. Yes, here we sit, Reagan and I, passing the early morning hours together. It's still pitch black outside, and I almost look forward to the day light savings time change just so I won't be taunted by the fact it's still beyond dark and I'm not asleep.

Some mornings, Reagan manages to sleep in with his big bro...and by sleep in, I mean 7:45 or 8:00 at the latest. But over the past few months or so, the time for full alert more often than not has started with a 6. And every now and then a 5. Grrr. And the reason is even more aggravating! No, he doesn't want to eat. No, he's not waking up at some strange sound or because he's cold or hot. Nope.

My sweet little dumpling is waking up for his daily number two. Seriously! As if he can find no other time in the day where this would be appropriate!

And believe me; I've tried everything to control the situation. It usually plays out something like this:
- The famous grunting begins. (almost identical to Kolbe's notorious sound.)
- Laura makes a rapid attempt to quell the situation while Reagan is still technically asleep.
- Reagan refuses to nurse. Doesn't want to be patted. Doesn't want to walk around and be bounced. 
- He's wide awake. It's a lost cause. Off to the family room, we go.

I guess the saying is true; when you gotta go, you gotta go. The only redeeming factor about this whole situation is that Reagan (at this stage in life) is marvelous at independent play. He's just recently perfected his mobilization tactics and loves the freedom to roam the room and peruse all of the toys while Kolbe's not around to steal them. So typically as this early morning ritual rolls on, I plop him down with a basket of toys and curl up on the couch beside him with a blanket and pillow. While it's never "real" sleep, I can often superficially doze off for a few minutes while he's doing his deed.

But then, of course, the next battle begins: keeping the little stinker quiet so he doesn't wake his brother up! I suppose there's nothing quite like starting your day with a poopy diaper. Our little early bird certainly doesn't get the worm. Just give him a roll of toilet paper, a cup of coffee, and the morning paper and he'll be happy!

Praise and Encouragement

First of all, thanks to everyone for all of the positive comments since "going public" with the new blog! It's been very encouraging for me. Nice to know that some of you out there are experiencing some of the same things we go through on a daily basis. And my apologies to those of you emailed who attempted to post a comment and got rejected. I somehow had it set to where comments wouldn't post without my approval. I went in and changed it this morning so we should be all good now. And for everyone who asked, yes, our new laundry detergent does work! I know, I know. I say that as if I was expecting it not to work. Which I kind of was. I guess it's my mother's voice in the back of my head saying, "With some things, you get what you pay for." But in the case of the laundry detergent, by spending less, you definitely get more! Here's a link to a website that has several different recipes for homemade laundry detergent. If you feel so inspired, try one that sounds good to you! (http://tipnut.com/10-homemade-laundry-soap-detergent-recipes/) .

So back to what I was saying earlier...the responses I received about some of the other posts on here were so encouraging to me! A few nights ago Mark and I had a heart to heart and I was trying to explain to him the solitude of being a stay-at-home mom. I'm a very social person. I love to talk. Probably too much. As if the rest of the world wouldn't want to hear my opinion! : )  But then, I've always known this about myself. One thing I didn't realize about myself before committing to the world of Kolbe and Reagan was how much I loved praise. And no, I'm not talking about Oh Laura! You're so wonderful! I'm in awe of your greatness! That's just awkward. Gross. I'm talking about little things. Good job! or Wow! You got that done quick! Just little affirmations that encouraged me to keep going. When I worked at the bank I got to hear these all the time. And when I was teaching it was more of the Thanks, Miss Hefferly! or Hey, Heff! that I relished from my students.

What a rude awakening stay-at-home-momship has been! The only time I hear Thanks from Kolbe is when I tell him to say it. Like 5 times in a row. Does hearing praise really mean that much to me? Is that what really kept me going all along? Come on. Admit it. We all like to know that we're doing well. I explained to Mark that when he comes home at the end of the day, he is often the only person I've spoken to the entire day. Literally. I'm not kidding. The only non-jibberish, coherent conversation! And so not only do I covet just the time spent talking, but his words of encouragement as well. I know that he doesn't see half of what goes on here day in and day out, but it still makes me beam like a kindergartener displaying his first finger painting when Mark tells me the house looks nice or dinner was yummy.

Don't get me wrong, when Kolbe runs up and give me a hug or when Reagan shoots me his irresistible smile, it's all the praise I need to keep on going. They are truly my reward for pretty much everything in life. But as their mother, I'm finding more and more that in order to be the best mom I can be, I've got to take care of myself too. And that means challenging myself, using my God-given talents, and connecting with other people. Maybe that's another reason why I started writing on here: hoping to connect. And probably why I felt so thrilled when I read several of your emails saying how you related to my stories. Since blogging and emailing often take up quite a bit of time, I've also tried to start texting more often. Those only take a few seconds but can mean so much. Heck, if we're going to pay for texting on our phones, why not use them to touch base with other friends or encourage someone else? For me, even just receiving a text that says Hey! is so exciting! Hark! Someone thought about me! And I tend to be thinking about other people I love too!

Once again, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice. The day you find out you're pregnant, the sacrifice begins. Not just money, not just time, but a great deal of yourself. The little things you enjoyed that you didn't even realize you enjoyed. And yes, the insecurities do seem to creep in, but is it worth it? You betcha!

The Poor House

So as all of you who know us well know, Mark and I have been living in the proverbial "poor house" for quite some time now. Considering neither one of us is gainfully employed, it's no wonder this imaginary dwelling feels so much like home. And really, I can't believe it's been almost a year since I left my job at the bank to pursue my dream career of being a stay-at-home mom. Time sure does fly when you're having fun. Or maybe it just flies when all the days are the exact same as the one before. Or when there's so little sleep that you're not sure if a new day has started yet or not.

But back to the poor part of things. To be completely honest, there are days when I'd give anything to have a little bit of money to do certain things with. Such as have an exterminator come by the house. Or buy a replacement lamp for the one that Kolbe knocked down more than a year ago. (It no longer works but remains perched behind our arm chair for decoration.) But there are also days when I truly believe that going through this zero-income part of our lives is actually a wonderful thing. And I'm so glad that it's happening at the beginning of our marriage and lives as parents. The lessons we are learning now are the very building blocks we hope to build the foundation of our family on.

To me, what it all boils down to is sacrifice. From the get go, Mark and I asked ourselves how much we'd be willing to give up in order to raise our family the way we felt God was calling us to raise it. Without hesitation, we both agreed that we'd be willing to do anything in attempt to follow through with this enormous responsibility God has given us. And undoubtedly, there has been more than one occasion where He has forced us to live up to this commitment.

I think I've found that a lot of the things I think I need, I really don't. After all, they are just things. (Ok, the bug man coming out really would be nice...) Being "poor", I suppose, keeps me from indulging in things that really aren't necessary. And lets be honest here, Mark and I are actually rich compared to most of the rest of the world! And in these first few years of marriage and parenthood, not having plenty of money at our disposal has taught me how to be willing to give up what I want for what's best for our family. I certainly hope that in the years to come when we are making money and do have a little cash on hand, I will remember these years and rely on these lessons to continue the gift of sacrifice for our family. And hopefully teach our kids the value of the gift of sacrificial love!

And as an added bonus, not having much money has totally helped me hone my cheapskate, coupon clipping, bargain shopping skills. In fact, over the past two days, I managed to make my own laundry detergent from a recipe I got online. We'll see how well it works! It literally costs less that one tenth of the price to make this detergent than it does to buy the normal detergent found at the store. Even if we had the money, I think I'd have a hard time paying ten times as much for something I know I can make myself. I'll keep you posted...

(my stores of laundry detergent in the garage to last us through the winter!)

Project: De-Clutter

As I write this, the boys and I are hanging out in our "playroom" (aka: half of the garage that I have set up like a playroom with all the toys that take up way too much room inside). While there have been several days in the past few weeks that have hinted at the arrival of fall, today has been the first real day where I could actually smell it. In fact, earlier today while making lunch and doing a little laundry, I opened the back door as well as the garage door to let the cool air blow through the house. I love when it's not exactly cold outside, but the wind is cold. It makes me feel like I can't decide if I should go on a walk or curl up on the couch.

As a woman of constant phases, fall also happens to be the time of year when I hit a sudden urge to clean, re-organize, and de-clutter. I think it goes back to this time two years ago when I began my first bout with nesting. While my mother insisted that nesting 8-10 weeks before my due date was a bad idea, I just had that overwhelming urge to get my house in order. Sure enough, when Kolbe came a whole month early, I was thankful for the urges! Oddly enough, I was also pregnant this time last year. And with my pregnancy with Reagan, I seemed to be in a constant state of nesting. With Mark in Midland the majority of the time, home organization seemed to be one of the things I could do to pass the evenings alone.

But this fall is a little different. No, I'm not pregnant. And thankfully, Mark is not in Midland every night either. Still I've recently had a huge urge to de-clutter our house. I sometimes feel like a cluttered home creates a cluttered mind. Like if all I see is clutter, I'll feel that way too. While Mark hasn't overtly expressed this same sentiment, he does make clever comments like "For every toy Kolbe gets for his birthday we're getting rid of five of his existing ones." (We'll see how that goes...) I can tell he feels the same way I do. Where I used to find myself thinking it was "cute" to group lots of little knick-knacks together on a table, I now covet a completely empty countertop.

I think the thing that gets me the most is that we are a family of FOUR. There are only FOUR people living in this 1400 square foot, 3 bedroom, 2 bath house. (1900 when you include the garage which we DO use as living space from time to time!) I shouldn't be making comments about how we've totally outgrown it already. There are much larger families that live in much smaller homes. To be completely honest, I don't think it's a matter of not having enough space. I think it's a matter of us having way more "stuff" than we need. As my dad once told Mark shortly after we got married, "All that really happens after you get married is you start acquiring 'stuff'." Boy, was he right.

And the bottom line is, I don't want to raise our boys thinking that "stuff" is the way to happiness. We could fill every single nook and cranny of this house with all kinds of material things and they'd never fill the vast amounts of space in the hearts, souls and minds of our kiddos. Those rooms can only be filled with our undivided time, love, and attention: things I so dearly long to give both Reagan and Kolbe.

So maybe this year instead of nesting for the birth of a new baby, I'll spend my few rare spare minutes cleaning up and clearing out both my house and my mind in an effort to truly get down to what matters most.

Public Puking

I think there must be an unwritten "Mom List" floating around somewhere that notates all of the ridiculous things a woman must go through in order to be fully initiated in to motherhood. There have been several times in the past two years where I've found myself thinking Yeah, this has happened to other people I know and here it is happening to me. Things like mastitis. Or pulling an all-nighter because your two kids tag team waking up throughout the night. Or pregnancy constipation. Or being peed on while changing a diaper. Or pooped on, for that matter. Things that are just inevitably going to happen. And I'm pretty sure that having one of your kids puke in public is definitely on that list. As of this past week, I can check it off of mine.

In what was supposed to be a quick trip to Walmart for random toiletries, I found myself encountering this nightmare right around 5:00pm...probably Walmart's finest hour. Reagan was sitting in the shopping cart seat with our darling cart cover surrounding him and Kolb was standing in the actual buggy playing with all the goodies I had thrown in. We stopped on the toothbrush aisle to get Kolb a new brush. Since there were like seventy-five different styles with various age specifications to chose from, I was engrossed in selecting the right one. An older female Walmart employee that didn't speak much English came up on the aisle beside us. Like most older people, she was fascinated with the babies and took a liking to Kolbe. Pleased that I had someone to entertain him for a second so I could focus on my toothbrush hunt, I allowed her to chat away with him. By the time I finally selected a cute one with Eeyore on it, I turned around to find the lady gone and Kolbe with a paper towel in his hand. Just beyond our cart stood a clean up station with a towel dispenser so I assumed the lady must have given him one from there.

Before I had time to realize what was happening I heard Reagan begin to choke. I rushed back over to the cart frantically trying to figure out what was wrong. Sure enough, curled up in his little paw was a scrap of the paper towel. Just as I attempted to grab him from the seat, it happened. Lovely, smelly, chunky mouth fulls of nastiness. Reagan had nursed just before we left the house but this also appeared to include a good portion of his earlier real food meal as well. Dang. Too bad we hadn't held off on solids a little longer. Not just on his clothes, not just on my pretty cart cover, not just on my clothes...but all over the floor too.

And there he sat, smiling up at me. It was as if he was saying, "Ah, that feels so much better! Back to shopping!"

I was filled with so many emotions. Rage: Did that lady seriously give my baby a paper towel!?! Disappointment: Was I seriously not paying attention to a stranger playing with my baby!?! Disgust: Am I seriously standing in the middle of Walmart with puke all over me and my child!?! Humor: Am I seriously standing in the middle of Walmart with puke all over me and my child!?!

Within minutes, the little old lady appeared again and was absolutely mortified that Reagan had choked on the paper towel. Full of apologies, she eagerly helped me clean up the mess and kept asking in her broken English if I was mad at her. I tried as best as I could to explain that babies can't have paper. Hello, doesn't everyone know I'm raising a billy goat!?!

We made our way over to the baby section where I selected a random green t-shirt to change Rudy into. The puke smell was way to overpowering to take him home in what he was wearing. Besides, there was no way I was getting that mess all over my beloved new car seat. Luckily, I had my trusty baby trash bags in my purse and was able to throw all the nasties in there. By the time we made it out of the store, I was completely overwhelmed. If I was a smoker, I would have had one in the parking lot. A drinker and as soon as we got home I would have busted open a cold one.

I've always though myself to be calm, cool, and collected in almost any situation. So why is it that motherhood has managed to turn me in to a total mess of frantic, spaz-out, anxiety filled stress!?! Why in the world would I even go to Walmart at that hour!?! And get that involved in a search for a toothbrush!!! Looking back on the situation, it's quite easy to laugh. While there's certainly a desire to beat myself up about the whole thing, the truth is, I know I'm not the only one this has happened to. Praise God that nothing happened to my little dumpling, and praise him as well for this learning experience for me as a mama. As I confidently strike "public puking" from my unwritten Mom List, I pray that I have the wisdom in the future to avoid the mere occasion of this ever happening again! (whether choking provoked or that other kind of puking that involves multiple episodes in a 24 hour period)