The real reason I’m late.

Lance would tell you the reason I’m late everywhere is because I’m not a morning person and I hate getting out of bed (but seriously, if you had to be up every morning at 6:10 AM after going to bed every night at 11:20 PM and getting up once a night with a crying baby, you’d have problems getting out of bed too). Have you tried to get out the door in the morning and have two children (and one husband) who are properly dressed, bedecked with the correct shoes for today’s activities as well as get yourself out the door properly addressed for the day too? It’s a logistical nightmare. He might also tell you that I’m always just trying to squeeze.just.one.more thing.in. Which is also true but not the real reason I’m late to almost everything.

The real reason I’m late is because I’m too busy savoring the last moments of my morning with my sweet baby. I’m soaking in her precious fuzzy head that feels like spun cotton. I’m breathing in her ever-fleeting sweetness. I’m feeling her warm cheek against my cool one. I’m delighting in my last moments with her before we both rush into the wide wide world. My head is telling me to put her down, place her in her car seat because I’ve still got twenty more minutes of stuff to do and about ten actual minutes to do it all. But my heart? My heart says, “breathe it in, soak it up. These days are brief.”

So yes, I might be late yet again because I couldn’t find the shoes I wanted to wear or somehow my phone ended up in the fridge (this happens more often I should really admit) but the real reason? I was holding on tightly to my daughter’s babyhood.
 

Gracelyn - 5 month update

Month 5

Little one, we love you. Gracie, you got your first cold and it made everyone pretty sad. You coughed directly in my mouth and gave me your cold. I, in turn, shared it with your dad. My cold, compounded with the sleep deprivation and running on fumes most days, progressed into a sinus infection and landed me on antibiotics and at home sick napping a total of six hours that day. I know that colds are a fact of life for wee ones, but we don’t like them. 

Sleeping. Your brother ruined us for sleep. Really, he did. About half the time you get up once a night. We take turns getting up and feeding you. I know this is pretty normal behavior, but we just weren’t expecting this. I thought that you might be going through a growth spurt and were just extra hungry, but I’m just not sure. The weekends you nap really well, so we appreciate that.  

Eating. During two weeks of you consistently getting up once a night, we decided to send three, three ounce bottles to daycare instead of two. Daycare feedings are as follows: 9:30, 1:30 and 3:30.

Wearing. 0-3 month clothing and a couple of 3-6 month outfits. Your first Easter dress was 3-6 months and fit perfectly. You still wear size 1 diapers and I hope that continues for a little while longer because I accidently forgot to cancel the amazon subscription for size 1’s.

Milestones. Social: you like to watch everything going on. You are happy to sit in your bouncy seat or your bumbo and watch what’s going on. 

Physical: you discovered your hands this month. They are so fascinating! You are drooling a ton. I’m not ready for teeth; Lu didn’t start until seven months. Yep, teething this early is not an option. You are getting closer to rolling over, but that pesky shoulder keeps getting in the way. At your four month appointment (which was really more like 4 months and 3 weeks) you weighed 12 pounds, 10 ounces which is in the 9^th percentile for weight. You are 23.5 inches long and that’s in the 5^th percentile for length. Your head circumference is 41.25 cm and the 52^nd percentile for head circumference. Sister, you are petite.  

Language: laughter! Lucan and I were on the deck one night blowing and chasing bubbles with you overlooking the silliness. All of the sudden you shared some chuckles and laughed delightedly at your brother’s antics. Everyone’s day was a little brighter because of it! 

Gracelyn - 4 month update

Month 4

We survived the month of March. And by survived, I truly mean survived. The second week of daycare and my being back to work, you decided that 3 and 4 am were prime times to party. Life was rough but we survived. We’re all a little sleep deprived.

Sleeping. You are a good sleeper. One long morning nap and a pretty solid night of sleep. No one is complaining here. You sleep pretty well during the day and early afternoon. When daddy and brother get home, you want in on the action and playtime. I don’t blame you, besides it’s really hard to sleep through all that noise! You continue to sleep in your rock and play sleeper, but we’ve started doing a few naps here and there in your crib. Everything at this age is a transition. 

Eating. We went through a time of really being worried about your extreme dislike of bottles. I would jokingly tell everyone that I wasn’t going to be able to go back to work because you wouldn’t take a bottle. But we really hunkered down on those last two weeks before the end of my maternity leave and got that straightened out. We’re on a 3.5 to 4 hour rotation. In the morning hours you’ll go longer because of your nap. Mom’s not complaining, she likes her nap too.

Wearing. 0-3 month clothing. You are getting a little longer and filling out a bit. Sadly, you are just a shorty like your mama. There’s nothing wrong with being the shortest person in the pictures, someone has to!

Milestones. Social: smiling at brother and lots of morning smiles. Such a sweet baby girl! You like to rub your hands in your eyes.

Language: You coo a bit. We all take turns trying to make you smile because your smile is so delightful! 

Daycare. All of the daycare ladies think you are such a good girl and super adorable. And it’s true, you are both. But goodness gracious, by the time you get home at the end of the day you are spent. You don’t nap much there, I’m not sure if it’s the loudness, not being swaddled, sleeping in a crib or the temperature there. It’s probably all of those things. You’re lucky to get a couple of hours’ worth of sleep during the day. I get the feeling you sit a lot of the time in a bumbo because you have great head control and just simply like to look all around. We do two bottles – one at 9:30 and the other around 1:30. Then I feed you immediately when we get home. My overprotective nature doesn’t particularly like daycare, but I try not to over think things and take it for what it’s worth!

Photo assistant Lucan.

Special helper. Who tried to pop her head off like a dandelion.

 

Some days you just lose. A Day in the life of a Working Mom with two Kiddos.

Some days you just can’t win for losing. Yesterday was one of those days and that’s okay. I try and keep in mind that sometimes you are the pooper and sometimes you get pooped on (as a mom, I have more days where I get pooped on than not). 

As I blearily hit my alarm for the second time, I finally rolled out of bed at 6:21. Getting up with Gracie to feed her at 4 AM is a not so distant memory when Lance asks me if Gracelyn got up last night. I control my urge to take a swing at him. 

I pull on the clothes I laid out the night before only to realize that my shirt looks really dumb with the skirt I have on. Drat. I try a second shirt but it’s really wrinkled so I try and iron the whole thing. With my flat iron. While wearing it. Bad idea. I see this isn’t my best plan so I change yet again. I finally settle on a shirt only to have Gracelyn spit up on it 20 minutes later and have to pick yet another shirt. Life. 

Lance hands Gracie to me and her back is sopping wet. Somehow this little one has managed to pee her clothes which warrants an entire outfit change. Apparently all of the females today need multiple outfits. 

Lance reminds me that today is superhero day at school for Lu. As we frantically rummage through two drawers of clothes for his Superman shirt, unsuccessfully I might add, I recall I recently bought some Superman pjs for him at a garage sale. #momwin. I add his superhero cape and consider it a job well done. 

Lance finishes packing everyone’s breakfasts (banana bread muffins that Lance made two nights ago) and is ready to start loading the car while I finish getting ready. The other night I accidentally kicked the cat hard enough to damage my toe and toenail so I have a very limited supply of open-toed shoes that are flat and work appropriate that won’t make my toe ooze. 

Lance is out on the driveway for an abnormally long time. I ask Lu what daddy’s up to and he replies that Daddy is walking around the car. NOT A GOOD SIGN. The car battery is deader than dead. And I’m still at home without makeup when I should already be at work. 

Lance announces that he’s going to take his very un-reliable, non-interstate safe car to work. Dear Lord. Out of precaution for the children, I am now doing drop-off this morning. I am going to be SO very late. 

We shuffle everyone’s things into my SUV and fly out of the house. As I pull into the daycare parking lot, the daycare school bus that I only ever see when I’m running super late to work is now actually pulling out of the daycare parking lot. I am so ridiculously late. I unload everyone, plop Lu down with his muffin and scramble back into my car. I put on my mascara at a stoplight (a skill that I shouldn’t be so efficient at) and finally catch my breath. 

I’m sure tomorrow will go better :)

 

Asking for help.

It’s so easy to write out, yet virtually impossible to actually do. 

Some of the only times I’ve actually felt okay asking for help is after I’ve had a baby and even then that’s killed me a bit. Friends have shown up on my doorstep with baked goods and meals and I’ve fervently given thanks. They’ve joyfully brought me sustenance and cooed over our newborn and provided me with 10 minutes of adult interaction. And it’s been wonderful. 

I have friends at church who gleefully ask if they can hold Gracelyn.  Or they ask if they can help when they see me struggling with Lucan, my purse, a diaper bag, Gracelyn and a coffee cup all at the same time. It’s obvious I need help (seriously – where is Lance in all of this?) but yet I am loathe to accept it. I have this ridiculous mindset that I should be able to do it all. I’m strong. I have two working legs. I am not disabled. And above it all, I am willful. 

But the people that are offering their help – they are kind, they see a need and are more than happy to fulfill it. 

I am here to tell you this: you are not weak. There is no need for you to go it alone. You are not a bad mom if Tuesdays nights are your pizza nights because you know that on Tuesdays you can get a large Papa Murphy’s pizza for $10 (try the taco – it’s delicious). You are allowed to tell your husband it’s his turn to take the baby at 4 am. It’s okay to BUY those treats for your kiddo’s Easter party instead of staying up to 11:30 pm frosting yellow baby chick sugar cookies (last year). Accept help. Or even more unfathomable, ask for help. You can do it. You’re not a bad person for accepting that you are not a super hero.