Mom wins and kidney beans: more thoughts on motherhood

Lately Adele has been saying things that have me cracking up, like, while looking at a family photo album last night, I pointed to a picture of my cousin Matthew (when he was a baby), and asked: "who is this?" not really expecting her to know. But quickly she shot back her answer: 

"George," she said, which is a boy in her class, who looks similar to how Matthew looked when he was a baby. I laughed so hard I couldn't contain myself. 

And when she asked for a boo-boo pop (which is a teether stored in the freezer used at school and at home for injuries and low grade fevers) after bopping herself repeatedly in the head with her xylophone mallet.

{Bops self on the head 2-3 times with xylophone mallet}

Me: "Adele, please don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."

{continues to bopp her head}

Adele: "I want a boo-boo pop." (for her injury, which was self-inflicted)

They say being a parent requires patience. 

It also requires letting go of most of your expectations of how a certain task will go, such as dinner, or bath time, or a play date. Since becoming a mom I have cultivated these highly desired skills that I thought were only found in mythical creatures I read about or watched on TV: patience and letting go of expectations. 

I know most people who know me assume I can't fly by the seat of my pants. Things require careful planning. Itineraries are great. I love Google calendars. I book my travel, my babysitters, my plans with friends, months in advance. I like everything to be just so. Sometimes that kind of planning is necessary. And sometimes it's nice. And sometimes I enjoy it. 

But then: toddler.

Now don't get me wrong, we are great with our routines. Routines are an important part of childrearing. But do we always, always stick with them? No. Because that's just life. 

Adele usually goes to bed at 7 p.m. But sometimes we're at a friend's house past 7 p.m. Adele usually eats at the table. But sometimes Mommy needs to keep her sanity after a long day at work, and Adele won't - just won't - sit in her booster seat and there is thrashing and screaming - and eating in the living room in front of the TV provides that sanity. 

Adele usually eats balanced meals. But sometimes she just eats two bananas. Or an apple. And sometimes she just eats Goldfish.

Adele usually listens to us. "One more book and then it's bedtime." 

"We don't throw balls in the house."

"Make gentle to Campbell."

"Please use your words, and say 'please' and 'thank you'"

But sometimes, toddler. Just toddler.

Photo by Lloyd Wolf

I'm completely fine with letting go of some expectations, especially about plans and timing. Because there are naps and dirty diapers and runny noses. With a toddler, things come up. I let myself enjoy this. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't get by. 

There are non-negotiables, of course. Safety and health, first and foremost. But when it comes to everything else, as long as she's HAPPY, SAFE AND HEALTHY I am OK. I enjoy the craziness. I really do. I know you may not believe me, but I do. I love it. It adds (more) color to my world. It causes my heart to flourish. It's rewarding. In ways I couldn't even begin to describe. If I were to explain it as it were an illustration, it is a large, forever growing picture of a flower, long, flowy petals, twirling round and round, bursting with color. Curly and growing. All the time. Filling up the page, expanding beyond the page. That is also motherhood to me. A continuously flourishing flower. My heart and soul on a piece of paper, always growing, always surprised, new colors added every day. Colors I had never seen before. That is motherhood, and everything that comes with it: new colors, swirling petals. 

And we are so lucky and blessed. Adele is a happy and healthy baby. And boy, is she smart! She sings, she "reads", she plays with her dollies, she builds with her blocks, she can brush her teeth and use the potty, she shares with her friends, she giggles uncontrollably. She is a joy. A squishy, joyous joy. 

She knows how much she is loved. As long as there is love, other things can slide. And now a few thoughts on toddlerhood lately, as Adele is now 21 months! 

On getting out the door in the morning:

Adele has to go through every single item in the pantry to pick out a snack for the three-minute car ride, even if she just finished breakfast, or is still eating breakfast. Some items she's chosen are a jar of jam, Hanukkah candles, and margarita mix. We finally settle on graham crackers or Cheerios or a Kashi bar, something that can be transported. 

On taking care of Mama:

Adele makes sure I have my water during dinner, shares her dinner and snacks, and nighttime bottles, with me. When I tell her something is mine, she will grab it and hand it to me. 

On helping:

Adele wants to do everything herself and/or everything like Mama does, from cutting the food on her plate and emptying out her potty (don't touch that!) to pouring the Cheerios from the container into the plastic bowl. It's incredibly endearing. She wants to help with everything. Every.THING. I love it, but it also creates a lot of effort where effort otherwise would not exist. 

My bad for giving her an egg to help with breakfast. I told her, "Here, hold this egg, very carefully and do not let it drop. Mommy will use it for making breakfast."

Even before I could finish my sentence, she dropped the egg.

So I gave her the very important task of sorting uncooked kidney beans in Tupperware containers. I gave her a few containers, a few beans, and some large mixing spoons. She got to work, moving the beans from container to container, and handed me the spoons to "help" with breakfast. That lasted about 10 minutes (enough for me to make scrambled eggs), until she started putting the beans in Campbell's water dish, or all over the floor, and I had to clean them up. However, even the tiniest victory of creating an on-the-spot task for a toddler, in which I actually had time to make something using the stove, was considered a mom win. 

On mom wins:

I do have a lot of mom wins. I do. Getting through the hardest tasks are considered mom wins for me. Just like getting her shoes and socks on each day, getting her into the car after school, getting her to wash her hands upon entering and leaving the classroom, and getting her to actually sit in her booster seat at the table for a meal.

Getting on the shoes and socks: I show her that Mommy gets on her own shoes and socks, and asks if she wants to do it herself or have Mommy do it. 

Getting her into the car: food. 

Getting her to wash hands at school: almost impossible. Because first we have to roll her sleeves. And then she can't decide if she wants to use the pink princess foam soap or the blue liquid soap. And then we decide. And then once it's on her hands it's the wrong soap. And then there is crying and wiping said soap all over Mommy's work pants. Then we use the other soap. And then there may be some more crying. Eventually we get the soapy hands under the faucet, after, of course, Adele adjusts the temperature exactly to her liking. And then at first she doesn't want to dry her hands. Mommy gets some paper towels. But Adele wants to do it herself, so those paper towels go to waste. And now it's been 35 minutes. 

Other mom wins include having her ACTUALLY HELP me with housework, and I don't mean sorting kidney beans. I mean, she helps mop up messes on the kitchen floor, she helps transport laundry from the washer to the dryer. She brings Campbell his bones and closes his crate door when he's in there and it's time for us to go.

Photo by Lloyd Wolf

And other times, I am just completely and utterly depleted and defeated. When every attempt at peace and cooperation is met with absolute chaos - screaming, throwing items on the floor (most notably food, and most notably breakfast 60 percent of mornings.)

Like any mom (I suppose), I try out many different options. When Adele was first introduced to the world of breakfast (and of all meals, for that matter), my food never failed her. Anything I handed to her, she ate. And she ate all of it, to the point I was running from table to fridge to freezer to microwave, trying to find additional food to fill her plate with. 

And then toddler happened. Breakfast used to go rather smoothly, with Adele and I quietly sharing our oatmeal, giggling, trading spoons. 

And then oatmeal wasn't welcome at the table. So I found solace with other items she would eat: applesauce and yogurt. We did that for a few weeks. 

And somehow along the way, breakfast turned into flinging food all over the kitchen, or eating upstairs in the Pack N' Play while watching "TD."

Finally, today, I was sick of the battle.

I sat her down in her booster seat at the kitchen table. I gave her sliced plums (which she loves), her toddler organic yogurt (which at one point she loved because there is a baby on the package), a graham cracker, a "big girl cup" with a little bit of milk, and her water sippy cup. There were going to be no more negotiations. No more "I'll literally give you anything you will put in your mouth, even if it's just Goldfish."

No more.

I put the food in front of her. 

"This is breakfast," I said. "This is what we're eating today."

(Keep in mind it's clear my child doesn't starve - as you can see from her juicy cheeks and thighs which I like to kiss incessantly.)

My plan was met with pure and utter chaos.

I normally keep my cool as the food flies. I remind myself that she is a toddler. That food can be picked up. That it is OK. That if I remain calm, then she will be calm. That I CAN DEAL WITH THIS.

But today, Friday morning, Sean had been away since Wednesday, and all this past weekend, so I'd been balancing work and Adele and Campbell by myself. At this point in the game I was barely hanging on by a thread.

First she threw the plums.

And then the yogurt spoon. And what little bit of milk I had given her (in case of a spill), was all over the table.

Everything was thrown all over the kitchen, including the graham cracker, which I didn't even find until like 10 minutes later.

I took all the food away, and explained, calmly but sternly, that food that is thrown on the floor is taken away. That it is NOT acceptable to throw food on the floor.

I reiterated that we use words instead of screaming and crying, and that if we want something, to ask Mommy nicely. 

After the food was off the table she proceeded to cry for probably five minutes, but it felt like 30 to me.

I stepped away from the scene. I had to calm myself down. I proceeded to make my coffee and clean up while she screamed at the top of her lungs. 

*Deep breaths*

After letting her wallow for a little bit, I went over to her, spoke calmly and explained if we are to eat breakfast, we keep breakfast on the table.

I asked her if she wanted a spoon for her yogurt.

Yes.

The situation eventually evened itself out, and Adele placed the plum skins that she didn't want to eat on her plate instead of the floor, so that was a mini mom win. She ate her yogurt. 

By the end of this session, I was depleted of all energy and sanity. I still had to get myself dressed and feed Campbell breakfast, and I still had to get Adele out the door, which is another 20-minute battle.

However, with a full tummy, getting her into the car (with her Elmo book) wasn't too hard a task. But by the time I drop her off at school (have her wash her hands, get her signed in, say "goodbye"), I head to my office. By 8 a.m. I am depleted. Defeated.

And without Sean, I do it all over again at 5 p.m.

I said in my most recent post that motherhood is a million decisions every day. 

It's also a million little battles every day. Some we win. Some we lose. Some we choose not to fight at all. (Dinner last night was pizza I ordered, and we ate it in the living room while coloring and watching TV.)

But some battles are worth fighting, like making sure this little firecracker of mine actually EATS her breakfast every morning.

Motherhood: battles, choices, mom wins and mom fails. All wrapped up into one hour. 

potty training and paci wars: a few thoughts on motherhood

Oh my goodness does it go by fast! Since my post in late November, we've had a swirl of fun events and Adele has been hitting developmental milestones faster than corn popping on the stove. (I couldn't think of a better metaphor for something really quick and surprising, but not completely unexpected.)

Out of nowhere, or so it seems, she has started to go on the potty, speaks in full sentences, calls Sean "Sean" (it's "Daddy" to you, by the way, Adele), and so on. 

She had been saying "I want to go potty" for a few weeks now, and has been going with me when I go to the bathroom both at home and in public places, so she knows how to use the toilet paper, flush the toilet and wash her hands. A few days into winter break (which started for us on Dec. 24), Adele's plastic pink potty came in the mail (thank you, Amazon!). The first and second day she used it for both pee and poo! She told me she had to go, so I took her into the bathroom. I asked her if she wanted her clothes off.

"Yes."

"Do you want your diaper off?"

"Yes."

And she sat on the potty and went! Cleaning up afterwards was a whole different story, as she wanted to clean the potty herself and I told her that Mommy does that part. 

I know we have a road ahead of us when it comes to potty training, but I am excited to say we've at least started! We ordered some Pull-Ups in the mail, and told her teachers at school today. We'll see how it goes, letting her lead the way, and telling us when she's ready. 

More amazing developments:

Adele hands me my shoes when I say it's time to go, says "thank you mommy" and "thank you daddy." She brushes her teeth, cleans up her blocks, asks for more juice, water or milk (in her words, anyway), can differentiate between which "TD" (TV) shows she wants to watch: Elmo (Sesame Street) or Mickey (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse). She sings amazingly recognizable songs in the car, so on key and on point I can tell when she is singing the chorus of "Wheels on the Bus" or the "Mommy and Daddy Song," which I made up one day to try to keep her spirits up on the ride home from school.

Sip and Paint for my birthday!

She is 20 months old! This little person. I just can't.

(the pictures throughout this post are some moments from the end of 2015, including our family outing to Discovery Space, Hanukkah, my birthday celebrations, play dates with friends, and spending Christmas with friends!)

St. Augustine, Florida December 2015

Jacksonville, Florida December 2015

It's hard to not blog as much as I used to. When I started this blog I was dealing with a lot of raw emotions and no place to put them. Writing helped me sort out my feelings while giving me a place to vent, while also informing friends and family members of my surgery results or next step in my breast cancer journey. It's not to say that now I have less to say. Because I have a TON to say. I just have ZERO time to say it, it seems. So this post is just some random thoughts I have now.

Adele's first haircut

True, I'm (thank g-d) not dealing with breast cancer. Instead my days are busy with Adele and her latest thing (right now it's coloring books and stickers and Doc McStuffins), and her activities: setting up play dates nearly every weekend, trips to Discovery Space and story time at the library, and finding other age-appropriate activities now that our days of going to the park with friends has come to an end. (thank you Pennsylvania winter.)

I turned 31 on Dec. 22! We celebrated with a cocktail party on Dec. 19.

My birthday cocktail party with Branyan and Nicole

Then comes work and our social plans and family life. These days I prefer laundry and TV nights to martinis with girlfriends, and I bask in the glory of getting into bed before 9 p.m. on a Friday night. But Sean, Adele and I are busy as ever! In between our dinner plans with friends and Penn State sports, we're traveling (Virginia in December for Hanukkah, and Florida for this past winter break). Sean and I have our own upcoming travel in March for the YSC Summit and then back to Austin, TX in April for another wedding!

And yes, I still have my girls nights! In fact, I still have my me-time party nights, like for my 31st birthday, I threw myself a Sip and Paint party and a cocktail party. (pics above)

So since my last post we've had my birthday celebrations, Adele's first haircut, my clinic at NIH (NED; follow up in 1 year!!!), winter break, which was filled with many days of relaxing family time followed by a trip to Jacksonville, FL on Dec. 24-Jan. 3 for the Penn State bowl game.

Decorating cookies Christmas morning with the Markowski family

And just because I'm busy doesn't mean I don't have my thoughts. Being a mom is the hardest thing I've ever done, and continue to do. Just this morning, Adele was screaming at the top of her lungs because I wouldn't give her her paci (pacifier with a little stuffed monkey attached, of which we have many) in the middle of breakfast. I held my ground.

"Paci is taking a nap. You can see it later."

"You're a big girl. You don't need paci during breakfast."

And the power of distraction and changing the subject, which are KEY for toddlers: "Do you want some more oatmeal? How about some more juice? Would you like to use your big girl cup and straw? That's right, two hands. What are you going to do in school today?"

"Where's Mickey?"

"Mickey Mouse? He's at home with his family. You can see him after school." (on the 'TD')

That's the gist of most of our conversations. But back to the paci: I wouldn't let her have it during breakfast. She screamed, she cried. She thrashed ferociously around in her booster seat. But I didn't budge. I remained calm. I drank my coffee. I spoke to her in a calm voice. Eventually, we settled on more granola and some more juice, which I let her pour herself into her "big girl" cup (a cup without a lid). Most of the juice ended up on the floor, and she had maybe 0.1 oz of granola for breakfast, BUT she didn't get that paci.

A little of the back story: right now we're using the paci for afternoon naps AT HOME on the weekends. We take it with us in the diaper bag for travel in case of a sudden meltdown. We used it a lot for travel this past week to Florida. We use it when she's sick.

She doesn't use it at school and she doesn't use it in bed at night UNLESS she's sick/has a fever. Because in the world of paci wars, sleep wins. Anything to get to sleep. Paci, Mickey, anything. Anything to soothe a sick child. A gold paci, if that's what it takes. A solid gold paci.

We're not trying to completely get rid of the paci. Not yet, anyway. We're trying to reduce it back down to just when necessary. We let it slide over the break, like I said, because I needed to keep my sanity and also because airplanes.

But she got in the habit of always having paci during our trip to Florida. So this morning at breakfast when she didn't get it, it was meltdown time.

Fun at Discovery Space

This is just a teensy morsel of what makes mothering hard. OF COURSE I WANT TO GIVE HER EVERYTHING SHE WANTS. OF COURSE I WANT TO HAVE A SCREAM-FREE BREAKFAST MOST DAYS OF THE WEEK. But sometimes we have to do the hard thing.

99.9 percent of the decisions I make with Adele -- just speaking about when it's me alone with her; Sean and I agree on most of our co-parenting techniques ;) -- are gut-based, from the heart. I JUST KNOW what the right thing is. Or I THINK I know, and I try and I learn.

Fun at Discovery Space

For me, this morning, it was no paci at breakfast. A simple, tiny decision. I make a million gazillion parenting decisions every day with Adele. This one time, it was no paci during breakfast.

Tonight it will be something else. And then something else.

It's the way to cut her nails. The way to brush her hair. The way to rock her to sleep. The way to not rock her to sleep. The reaction I give when she runs toward the toilet in the public restroom like she's about to dive in. Am I calm? "Adele please don't stick your hands in the toilet." Or am I crazy? "NOOO!!"? It's both.

It's what to feed her and when. It's if she decides when she's done eating, or if I decide when she's done eating. It's what shoes to wear, what socks to wear (are these too big or too small?), what pants to wear, if she wears an undershirt (will she be warm in this fleece at school?). It's every single second of every single day that I make a decision. Some days it's easy. Some days I just KNOW. Some days I guess. Some days I completely surprise myself.

Like when I remained calm, speaking to the nurse on the phone, one time Adele had a fever. Or I see her, in the split second my eyes blink, put the Hanukkah window decal in her mouth and there's no thought, just a reaction: "NOOO! YUCKY! VERY, VERY DANGEROUS."

Or when I watch from the other side of the room, in slow motion, as she gets up and down from the couch. Is she going to fall? Will she make it up? I'm on the edge of my seat, waiting to jump up to catch her. But I have to let her do this on her own.

Or without thinking, I cup the side of the glass table with my hand as to protect her head from under it. Or I catch the cup of milk before it falls. Or I don't catch it, and I have to change her pants before school starts.

Christmas Eve with Brandon, Brody and Miles

If I could describe it, and trust me, I can't, but being a mother is just like all of those things: waiting on the edge of your seat to jump up to catch your child every second of every day. Sometimes you get there in time. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you didn't need to. Sometimes you did need to and you didn't.

There are no answers. Just decisions. A million decisions all the time. That's what makes motherhood hard. But it's also what makes it literally the best thing in the world I've ever done.

Playtime with Sara

Playtime with Brody and Miles

I look forward to filling her plastic bowl with Goldfish, taking them into the living room for her, and helping her with her farm animal puzzle or Mega Blocks. I love when she wraps her arms around my legs. Or when she says "mommy's water" or points out other things around the house. Or when she shares her snacks with me. Or when she laughs hysterically when I pretend I can't see her hiding behind me.

Or how she concentrates SO hard when she's coloring or eating.

Opening Hanukkah presents with Daddy

There is nothing I've experienced quite as heart wrenching and heart opening as motherhood. It's not just the love so deep it hurts. It's those decisions, millions of them, every day, BECAUSE of the love so deep it hurts.

I can't explain the joy I felt when she just, all of a sudden, went to the potty. Like decisions, I get these feelings a million times a day. The sheer joy of witnessing a new milestone, big or small. When she points out an "owl" in a book (how did she know that?) or can name people in our wedding pictures. When she points to our guest room and says "Bubby" because that's where Becky stays when she visits.

There's no possible way to end this post with one single thought that captures these many, many feelings. So I'll just end here. Here are my thoughts on motherhood: the best.