Is it wrong

That I think my daughter's pouty lower lip trembling right before she starts to cry is The Cutest Thing EVAR??

No, I haven't made her cry just to see it. But it is OH SO TEMPTING.

Oh and did I mention ...

The drool? The teething? If there's anything worse than a baby who is constantly frustrated by not crawling, it's a baby who's constantly frustrated AND teething. Whee!

Desperation

I hold her and she arches backwards, making impatient noises. I lay her down, she rolls over on her tummy. And writhes. Knees under, bum up, faceplant. Elbows under, tummy down. Hands pushing, belly off the ground. She slides slowly backward. She is grunting at the effort. Every once in a while she can coordinate it, hands planted, knees bent, and her chubby belly lifts for a fraction of a second. And down.

She keeps at it. She watches her brother intently as he crawls around the floor to encourage her. She makes noises of frustration; once they start to escalate I pick her up and distract her, but soon enough, it starts all over again. Practice, practice, practice. It's all she wants to do.

She wants to crawl So. Badly.

And all I want to say is slow down baby. There's lots of time. Don't try to grow up so fast.

More irony

The last baby I had would not sleep on his own. For months. I recall he was five months old before he would sleep longer than 10 minutes alone, for all my quiet wiggling and easing myself away from him. Five months!

However, once he did sleep on his own, he would sleep properly on his back, like a good baby, arms and legs akimbo.

My daughter, on the other hand, slept 2.5 hours this morning, most of it totally on her own. But on her stomach. She will not sleep on her back. She will kind of sleep on her side. But lay the girl on her tummy and she's out cold for hours.

So I can leave her, but I sure shouldn't.

Anyway I am doing nothing to interrupt the status quo. For the next year I can stay near her while she sleeps on her stomach, and once she's a year old it's safe to let her do it on her own. After The Boy Who Wouldn't Sleep, I'm taking The Girl Who Will, even if it does come with Limitations.

(Kind of like those ads you see for medication that promise all these wonderful things but have fine print. You can have a daughter! She will sleep! She won't cry very much! (But you'll have to stay on the bed with her for the duration because she'll only do it on her stomach.)

In other news, The Girl has been rolling well and this morning while hanging out on her tummy, she drooled so much and burbled through it so much that it looked like she had a little beard. Classy. Even more classy? Telling the intarwebs. yeah.

Ah the irony

When we moved in to this place, there was a security lock on our patio door. There's also a handle lock, so we never really bothered with the security lock -- no idea why, guess we're just trusting. Also, if you look into our living room there's nothing good to steal, and neighbours can see you if you try to jimmy the door for a load of books which won't get you any money, so you'd have to be pretty dumb to try it.

To be truthful the real reason we don't use it is that for some reason when we moved in the door shifted and the bolt no longer hit the hole quite right, and despite it being an easy fix we just weren't motivated to fix it.

But this last Friday, we decided we would do some fixin' up around these parts, and that was one thing we decided might be a good idea to have fixed.

Let me back up a moment here and add that we have, against our preference, been letting out one of the cats. We live in a high-traffic area, with raccoons and skunks, and a cat outside just seemed a very poor idea. But this one cat is EXTREMELY noisy, and he hasn't taken well to the newest member of the family, and has been making his displeasure known at 3am, sometimes for HOURS, and if you add that to a new baby and a preschooler who will wake if the cat howls and then not sleep and be a weepy mess all day ... well, you have a recipe for disaster, don't you? So we've opted to put the cat out at night. It's my hope that he'll soon realize, especially in the fall, that nighttime howling = being put outside = SUCKS and the behaviour will stop.

Anyway. So out goes the cat last night.

And this morning? the lock has seized up. We cannot get it open for love nor money nor WD-40. And the weather is definitely darkening. Oh, sure, I can go around and get him, but he's used to coming in that back door, so when I go round to get him, he often runs for the bushes (at least, that's what happened this morning when I went to give him food ... poor cat was starving!)

SO. I guess it's good that we have secure doors. We can't get out but NO ONE ELSE CAN GET IN. So hey! Success!! Not so much for the cat, but you can't have everything.

The Difference between boys and girls

This party today was, as I said, that of a four year old girl, and The Boy was the only boy present at it. I didn't think it would be much of a problem, given that he plays with these same girls at daycare a lot ...

But OH, how wrong I was.

When we first got there, he just wanted to go home. He even cried a little. It was in a huge gym with a very noisy bouncy castle and it was just Too. Much. The little girls were running about shrieking (maybe it was the shrieking that was the problem, come to think of it!) and having a great time together.

I finally convinced him to go to the party room instead, where there would be food (sushi!) and cake later. There were large Disney princess colouring sheets for everyone ... but he was mostly interested in squishing out as much sparkle paint as he could from the pens.

One of the girls chose to stay with him (I like her a lot!) and play / colour ... soon joined by another girl who instigated a game called "keep the balloons away from The Boy", which was heavily weighted in their favour ... man, can girls ever be mean! He got engaged though and didn't seem to mind too much.

And then the rest of the girls came in, and he ate some food and some cake and played for a bit ... but all in all it was not a great success. Six girls and a single boy ... they just didn't want to do anything boyish at all, and he was left out a lot.

I'm kind of considering that next year's daycare, when there will be only six boys, might not be that great for him. Sigh.

Ah well. At least it might teach him something about having a little sister. Hopefully it won't be just "how to torment small girls."

Although considering the tormenting was all on their side this time, I suppose it might just be fair game.

It's true, we do live in Vancouver

The Boy is off to a birthday party tomorrow -- one of his favourite girls is turning 4. I saw her mom at daycare this morning and asked if she was all ready for tomorrow. She laughed and said no. But that she had done all the ordering that needed doing.

"the cake," she said. "And the sushi."

And what's weirder was that my response wasn't "ew! Sushi for a preschooler party!" It was relief that there would be food there my kid would eat.

Ooooo-Kay then ...

The Boy, back of the car: whisper whisper whisper

Me: what's that, kiddo?

The Boy: nothing, I'm just talking to my hand.

Things I could submit to Learn From My Fail

1 rocking a baby is not the best time to discover that you do not understand the physics of liquids ... Hot liquids ... And what they do while you are rocking and trying to drink at the same time.

(no babies were harmed during this fail)

2 do not leave an eight year old, six year old, and four year old unsupervised. Ever. You will end up with a flooded deck, a pool filled with dirt, sand tracked through the house and toys EVERYWHERE. Seriously, you will wake in the night with a gecko stuck to your back. A plastic one, thankfully.

From the mouths of babes

Last night The Man and I both went with The Girl to go and fetch The Boy (I'd tried another hooky day with him -- at the beach! not even a boring day at home with mom! and he'd lasted an hour before deciding the beach was "too cold" and he'd rather be at daycare. Am failure as mother.)

Anyway, on our way home, we thought we'd stop for dinner (it was Friday night after all) and The Boy declared he wanted sushi. We didn't want sushi. Mostly because he ALWAYS wants sushi but also because we're having the family round for a few days, family from out of town, and figured we'd be getting sushi with them. So we tried to sell him on pizza instead. And that's when it happened. The beginning of his career in advertising.

"Pizza! Yeah!" he said. "Because there's no such thing as cheese sushi!"

Uh. Yeah.

It's all good, all around

One of the things I was looking forward to on maternity leave was spending more time with my son. He still has his daycare spot -- we have to keep it, or he won't have one next year when I go back to work, and more importantly, his sister won't have a spot either (there's sibling preference with the daycare system blah blah blah doesn't matter). And until now he's been going every single day, because I just haven't felt up to being a mama to both kids all day.

I try not to beat myself up over this, despite the fact that I promised myself, early in pregnancy, that nothing was going to change for four months. Why four? Because my employer pays me for four months of the leave, so nothing financially had to change -- I could keep my four-year-old's full time daycare spot for at least that long, because I still had the money for it. And I figured four months was long enough to get my two-child-mama feet underneath me, get some sleep caught up, get a schedule kinda going, and be a full time mama to two.

This morning went well, we were enjoying ourselves and I felt on top of the housework. I don't, despite both kids being up in the night, feel too tired. So when 10:30 rolled around and my son showed no interest in heading to daycare, I took a deep breath, and posited this to him: we can go now. Or we can go in half an hour or so so we make it in time for lunch. Or (deeeeeep breath), we don't have to go today.

It took some courage, I admit. I know there are people out there who would be scornful -- why have two if you can't handle it? -- but ... well, they can bite me. I'm sure I could do it if I had to, but why not take a break when I have it offered and then be a better mama when he is around (so goes the theory, anyway!). I wondered if I'd be a screaming harpy by 4:00, knowing it was another two hours until The Man came home.

But I know that this is something I want to do this year, so I offered.

And was promptly shut down. By a four year old, channelling his inner teen, in a God, you are so dumb, mother, eye rolling sarcasm,

"NO! Mama, I want to go! I want to have some fun!"

I laughed. I'd feel bad about it, but in truth my heart feels lighter knowing that he wants to go. I project a lot. I hated preschool, what I remember. And I wonder some days if he does too. But when he chooses on his own to go, I feel good. It's a good place, it's a good centre, and if he likes going ... then I'm going to sit back and enjoy it.

West Coast baby

Despite my prior predictions of a rainy and cool summer, July was a lovely month -- it may not have been hot, per se, but it certainly was warm and sunny.

However, on Saturday the weather changed, and it was cool and rainy all weekend. This morning it was cloudy and the forecast suggested it would warm up and clear up, so we went off to daycare (mostly) appropriately dressed for sunny weather later on.

I came home at 10am and decided I needed the exercise so hopped out of the car and did my errands on foot. I loaded The Girl into the sling, pulled on a hoodie, gave her a hat and off we went.

I walked four blocks, went into a store for a while.

And when I came out, it was pouring.

I pondered, for a moment. It was four blocks home, and I wanted to go into a store that was just over two blocks between where I was and home. I am someone who cannot really justify taking a bus two blocks, even if it's raining. But I did have the baby to consider ...

But I then figured -- this child is growing up in Vancouver. If she can't cope with a little rain, she's completely doomed.

So we hoofed it. There were lots of awnings, she had a hat on (a wool one, so the rain didn't penetrate), and if all else failed I pulled up the sling tail to cover her (thanks again SH, for that multi-purpose item ... favourite. Baby. Item. EVER.)

And she made it just fine. She started to fuss just as we got to our home block, and I suspect that might have been just as much from the length of time being carried as anything else.

Me, on the other hand -- well, turns out that hoodie can't really cope with being zipped up over the baby AND covering my head ... too small. So I got wet. But after a month of hot, sweaty weather, walking a short distance in the rain -- even if my feet got wet in sandals -- was strangely refreshing. Like being wiped clean. It's going to get hot again this weekend, and there will be more bbq's and days we need a/c (but we don't have it). Nights of no covers and sweaty-headed children. So the rain today was a welcome and refreshing break.

Although I'm willing to bet that everyone who's working thought that this weekend's rain SUCKED.

Ay-Freaking-Men

Love this article. And love especially how it ties working women to the health of the overall community and how families ought to be given more support by government etc.

Yes, yes, and dear God, yes some more.

Torn

Every single day it happens: mommy play with me!

And simultaneously: fuss!

Between an infant and a four year old, the four year old waits. Because he can. He doesn't, always, but he can. And lately he's been doing a lot of waiting. And a lot of doing without.

And his behavior shows it.

The guilt I feel is powerful -- particularly the guilt I feel when I lose my patience with him, knowing he's acting out only because he is not getting enough of me.

I'm the younger of two siblings, and I was determined that my younger child wouldn't get so much less of me than her brother did at the same age. This is partly why he's still in daycare -- I can't give her 24/7 mommy alone time, but I can give her a few hours a day.

But the fact of the matter is this: no matter what I do, it'll never be *fair*. Her life is going to be different because she came second no matter what. I can't give her what I gave him: four years of dedicated me. I simply can't. To try and replicate it, to compare, it's not possible.

And I'm just going to drive myself crazy if I try.

So the second child within me that feels ever slighted by my own parents' attention to my sister will have to be silenced. By trying to make it all fair, all I do is call to attention the fact that it isn't. And as an adult I know there's no way it can be.

She is second, she will ever have to share me.

Until, of course, she's 14 and her brother leaves for college. Right at that age when she'd gratefully shove me over to her brother if I would just go away mom!!!

Developmental Leaps and Bounds

One of the other casualties of the second child is those week-by-week Your Amazing Bay-bee email updates or some similar thing. With the first one, I signed on for weekly updates and read them avidly, eager to know what my precious child would accomplish today! (and then eager to worry because my precious child could not roll over exactly when they said he should. Clearly am bad mother!!)

This time around I not only do not have the email updates, I have no idea how many weeks old she is. Oh, I have a round idea of months old, obviously, but I do have a cheat: she was born the last day of April, so every time a month ends, she's another month older. Not exactly rocket science.

But of course having had one baby, I have a vague idea of when we might expect certain things -- smiles around six weeks, laughing around three months, crawling around nine, walking around one. First words around there too .... you know, that kind of thing. And I remember The Boy first grabbing toys around three months, so it came as no surprise to me that my daughter first successfully got hold of a toy and pulled it to her mouth over the weekend.

What has surprised me is that she went from no ability and no interest whatsoever in toys to not just actively grabbing them, but getting her feet in on the action. She can kick those little hanging toys on her playmat with pretty awesome accuracy for someone so little. I'm pretty sure she's doing it on purpose -- she's looking at the item, and bringing a foot up. And she only ever seems to kick the one that makes noise, of course.

I do remember that development in babies often comes in spurts, but I don't remember my son being so ... spurty. Going from slack-jawed disinterest to soccer maestro in less than a week.

Which of course just proves that my kid is a total GEEENEEUS. Of course. Because the ability to successfully connect foot with an object is the start of a successful life that will culminate in a Nobel Prize etc.etc.

Anyway. I have to say I'm glad to see this stage. The ability of a child to play with a toy may not mean a Nobel Prize but it DOES mean mommy can sit for a moment with a cool drink and blog about it while baby is entertained. All hail the mommy-break.