Mama, are you happy?

I get asked this question every day, several times a day. By my three year old. It is unnerving, but it also serves as an interesting check-in.

He asks it if he senses anger or irritation or sadness in me. Rarely does he ask it when I am actually in a moment of joy. It makes me pause every time he asks, because I'm never quite sure how to answer. I don't think he means it in a general sense. He means it in the moment, the only thing that exists for a three year old. And usually when he asks, I am not particularly happy in that moment. I hate to tell him that: "No, I'm not happy" because he seems to take it personally. He's told me, tearfully: "Mama, I just want you to be happy!"

That absolutely breaks my heart.  It is too much for a three year old to be concerned with his mother's happiness. I start to worry that this last year, which has been such a struggle for me mentally and emotionally, has somehow had an effect on him. And really, how could it not? We spend all of our time together. He's seen me at my absolute lowest. I just hope I can minimize the damage, or at least give him some perspective.

So, when he asks me "Mama, are you happy?" I try to let him know that what I'm feeling is my own, and not his, burden to carry. I tell him that I'm tired, or that I'm frustrated because or that I just need to get out of the house. Aedan constantly asking me to examine my mental state helps me to not completely lose it. It reminds me to examine what's going on in my head, to look at the reason behind why I am reacting the way that I am. It holds me accountable.

I do love the times when I can tell him, honestly, that yes, I am happy. And when I ask him the same question, his standard answer always makes me laugh:

"Aedan, are you happy?"

"I am just a little bit sad because I lost my t-rex."

(It's taking him a long time to get over that one.)

Some days it drives me crazy, the constant asking of that question, but at the same time, I've come to be so grateful for it. He really is my little guru.

All's well that ends well.

Yesterday was not a great day. I was tired, and Aedan was trying, so there was a lot of yelling and more than a few bouts of tears. This whole "terrible twos" business is terribly misleading...all of toddlerhood seems to be full of frustration and flexing of wills and also wonderful, burgeoning independence and personality. Aedan is almost three, and I'm beginning to suspect that things aren't going to magically change at the stroke of midnight on his birthday.

I guess it's me who must change, become even more patient and understanding. 

But I digress. Yesterday I was neither patient nor understanding. And then P got home from work and he wasn't much better. When bedtime (finally, thankfully) rolled around, Aedan said he wanted to sleep with Daddy. So P came up to bed with us.

I lay on my side in our bed with Colm, nursing him to sleep, drifting myself in that in-between place, while P snuggled Aedan up. After a few minutes, Aedan asked, in his tiny voice: "Want Daddy to sing to you?"

"Okay," P replied. And softly, he began, "Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed."

I perked up a little.

"A poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed.
And then one day out shooting some food,
up from the ground came a bubbling crude."

Fully awake now, I joined in:

"Oil, that is. Black gold. Texas tea."

(is this familiar to you, too?)

Then we started laughing, and Aedan thought it was time to get up and play. We settled him back down, and P finished singing him the theme song from The Beverley Hillbillies ("it's the only song I can think of!" he told me) and we all drifted off to sleep, the day's hurts forgotten.

My Tiny Guru

I recently read somewhere on the internet that "mothering is the shortest and steepest path to enlightenment."

I've been trying to keep that in mind lately as I navigate this sometimes maddening world of life with an almost three year old. Because there is no sense to those little people.

For example, Aedan has recently decided that spitting is really hilarious. Especially spitting on me. And there is nothing that enrages me quite like that. The anger is instant, and intense, and I just don't know what to do with it sometimes.

Last night, on my own because P had to work late, I cycled through all of my "tools". I told him sternly that we don't spit at people, that it is disrespectful. He laughed gleefully and spat upon me again. 

I told him again, with the same result. 

I tried ignoring him for awhile (which is really hard to do). No dice. 

Then I wanted to smack him, but I'm pretty sure that's not allowed, so instead I put myself on time out. I told him that Mama was really angry, and she was going to sit upstairs for a minute.

As I sat on our bed in the loft--with Aedan crying and banging on the gate across the bottom of the stairs--I wondered: what would the Buddha do if his almost three year old wouldn't stop spitting on him? What would Jesus do? Would they be calm and peaceful? Would they not react at all? I started to calm down a bit.

And then I realized that if the Buddha or Jesus ever had a child, it was likely home spitting on its mother while the enlightened ones were out meditating under a tree somewhere.

In the end, I declared bed-time. As Aedan flopped around in the bed, not at all tired or ready to sleep, I lay beside him, thinking about enlightenment and hoping that that anonymous person on the internet is right, and that I am on that path right now, my little guru cracking the whip over my shoulder, and spitting on the back of my head for good measure.

It Ain't Easy

Some days, I think to myself: "Yeah, I've got this."  These are the days when my patience and creativity seem limitless, when I am in total control of my thoughts and my actions, when I get the toddler moving smoothly from one moment to the next without tears, and the baby is content and unscathed. These are the days when we all get outside to play, the days that I make some quality time for myself, the days when everything seems to get done..and if it doesn't, I shrug my shoulders and think "oh, well".

But then those other days...those are the ones I need some help with. Those are days like today, where things go relatively smoothly, but beneath it all is a current of nasty, negative thoughts, causing ripples on the surface. Thoughts like "I am such an unnatural mother", "I can't do this", and "I hate this". I struggle to stay in control of myself if Aedan hits me or scratches his brother or pulls Cilla's fur. I find myself yelling. I find myself wanting to lose control, just to see how it feels. 

I don't, though. Somehow, I manage to (mostly) keep my shit wired tight. I do a lot of apologizing on these days. I also do a lot of contemplating leaving on these days. I'd like to scream "I QUIT!!" into the face of my tiny two and a half year old boss, throw the dish rag (or dirty diaper) in his face and storm out the front door. 

And on to what? If I wasn't doing this, what would I be doing?

Would I still be slinging drinks at the Pit? At least there, if you do your job well, people leave you money at the end of each service. Today, Aedan left me a bunch of chewed up Gala apple, spit all over the floor.

I'm trying hard to feel passionate about this job of parenting, because a) I don't have the option of quitting and walking out the door, and b) on an intellectual level, I think it's actually a pretty damn important job. I'm raising HUMANS. Future adults, future MALE adults, and that is a huge and frightening responsibility. It's just not the one I thought I'd have.

Let's be honest, though. It's not like I ever seriously envisioned myself as a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher or whatever. I think the only serious envisioning I ever did was to picture myself as a moody poet/novelist who lived in an apartment with a cat, chain smoking and drinking strong black tea and churning out masterpieces. I thought I'd be the next Margaret Atwood. Except I don't think she smokes. And neither do I.

So.

Here we are. 

The boys are napping now, and I'm drinking green tea, the kind with the bits of toasted rice in it, and blogging about being a mom. Nap time is a chance for us to start over. Aedan will wake up in couple of hours and his hair will be all tousled and my heart will burst and it will all be okay.

Realizing.

They say that when a baby is born, so too is a mother. I thought that was a one-time occurrence; that with Aedan's birth, I was born a mama, and that was that. But I've learned that I've been born all over again as a mama of two. 

It is taking me some time to figure this out, but figure it out I am. I'm realizing that I've been entirely too hard on myself. All of the expectations I had when I was a  mama of one have gone out the window, though it's been hard to let go of them.

Aedan watches shows on Netflix now, and he plays with our iPads. Over the past 7 weeks I've been wracked with guilt over his screen time, and it's resulted in some tearful battles. But today I realize that the day is incredibly long, when it begins at 5:45 am and it's too cold to go outside. There are a lot of hours to fill, and if I fill one or two of them Bob the Builder or a movie we watch together, then so be it. I grew up with television, and I guess I turned out pretty all right.

Then there's our diet.  Just before Colm was born, I was having a lot of anxiety over food. I'd started down a path of wanting to eat real, whole foods, avoiding processed foods and refined sugar. But that led me into researching grains, and then nuts and seeds and phytic acid and anti-nutrients. I was left wondering what the hell I was supposed to feed my family. But that anxiety is gone, now. We all seem to digest grains and nuts well, and we're all quite healthy. The processed foods and refined sugar have crept back in, and I would like to change that, but I don't find it consuming my thoughts these days. We are fed, and that's what's important right now.

I'm trying so hard to relax, and to enjoy each moment, but it's not easy some days. Aedan has suddenly, ferociously, become a two-year old, full of energy and curiosity for this world he's in. It's intense, and it's taken P and I by surprise, but we're catching up and trying to allow him the freedom to explore. Sometimes I feel like I'm running a race, trying to get to his next whim before he does, frantically trying to think of things to entertain him or distract him. I have to remind myself that he's quite capable of that on his own.

Anyway, today is one of those days where I haven't broken down and cried yet. I haven't even felt close to tears, and I wanted to write it all down so that maybe I'll feel lifted on a difficult day.

Last night

Nights with two nurslings are not always full of Mama-sleep. Sometimes, mama gets tag-teamed by two very inconsiderate little boys.

Last night was one of those nights.

I'm not sure what time it was. It was certainly the very earliest hours of this day. Colm began waking to nurse, and not long after I got him latched, I could hear Aedan begin to stir. Still half asleep, he pressed into my back, searching beneath my shirt for a boob (if only I had one back there!) "Mama," his little voice called out, "nurse?" 

"As soon as Colm finishes, I'll nurse you, sweetie." I reached back and patted his bum, silently willing him to just fall back to sleep, as he sometimes does.

This wasn't one of those times.

He started to cry.

His requests to nurse became tearful demands. 

He screamed.

He kicked.

He thrashed the bedding around.

All the while, I kept my cool, and P did the same. I nursed Colm back to sleep, calmly reassuring Aedan that I would nurse him just as soon as I was able. Finally, I rolled away from Colm, and attempted to settle Aedan on his twin mattress next to ours. 

This was my mistake.

Rolling away from Colm gave us all about 5 minutes of peace before he noticed my absence and began to fuss.

"Boobies are going to sleep now," I tried. "It's time for Aedan to go to sleep now, too."

He wasn't buying it. I rolled back to resettle Colm and the kicking and screaming began again.

Sigh.

Eventually, I got everyone back to sleep. And I lay, wide awake, for probably another 45 minutes, at least, listening to three different sleep-breaths all around me. I thought about the new yarn my sister-in-law Karen sent me. I thought about blogging and privacy. I thought about Yukon living. 

I suppose, eventually, I fell asleep, because I was definitely out the next time Colm tried, unsuccessfully, to latch--his nose was full of snot. And then Aedan chimed in: "nurse?" And then "want it wake up?" I dragged them both downstairs only to discover that it was but twenty after four in the a.m.

I cleared out Colm's nose, got everyone back in bed, and nursed them simultaneously back to sleep. I don't like doing that, but I needed sleep.

Oh, except Aedan didn't immediately fall asleep. When he finally did, and I began drifting off, Colm woke up. 

I had to laugh, because, really, what else is there to do?

Today

Today began in darkness, as every day does. We sat in our usual places in the living room, and we poured out our misery like the morning coffee. "I'm not having any fun."  "I feel so overwhelmed."  "I wish we were somewhere else." 

And then, as the sun rose, the bad moods lifted. It's amazing how the simple act of giving voice to our unhappiness can dispel it. 

"Lily!!"

I got a pot of roasted butternut squash soup simmering on the stove. I managed to get myself and the little ones outside for a half hour, and then back in for hot chocolate and lunch. Then it was nap time and a good phone call to my mom. P got home from doing some work in the office, and we all went outside again, this time to burn some brush.

We had the soup for dinner, and then the boys each had a bath, with only minimal crying from Aedan. He went to sleep easily, as he has been lately, and Colm is asleep now in my lap as I type this. The candles have all burned down, there is jazz and Tim Tam on the CBC. I'll tuck this day away in my back pocket, and remember it on a day that doesn't feel so smooth and rhythmic....

But I hope they become more like this!

Two

 

As I type this (one-handed) Paul and Aedan are upstairs napping; Colm is asleep in my lap, and I am left with some quiet time to reflect, to gather my thoughts. It feels a bit like that scene in the movie "Twister", where Helen Hunt and Bill Pulman belt themselves to a water pipe rising out of the ground, to anchor themselves as the tornado roars around them.

I am holding on for dear life.

Two is intense. I don't think anyone could have prepared me for it. In fact, I don't recall trying to prepare myself for it. I suppose, deep down, I knew that was an impossible task. 

Aedan is generally being wonderful. I try my very best to give him as much attention as I can spare, while taking fleeting glimpses of the new babe, taking deep breathes of his new-baby scent before diving back in to an ever-changing sea of toddler needs. 

Aedan loves to share his toys with his brother.

I am so grateful that Colm is, so far, an easy baby. He nurses a whole lot, and sleeps a whole lot more.  My love for him has been slow to grow, but my heart is pretty much bursting with it now. I try to savour every little bit of him, every little newborn moment, because he'll likely be my last. I fear for him like I never did for Aedan, not until the diabetes diagnosis, that is. I think it's because of that that I harbour so many secret worries. But Colm seems healthy and content. I tested his blood sugar while the midwife was here, and it was within a normal range. I smell his breath often for keytones, and wonder if he pees too much. I tell myself, as often as possible, "He's fine."

It's not just two to entertain, two to lull to sleep, two bums to wipe, two to love. It's two to nurse, too. I had planned all along to continue nursing Aedan alongside Colm, and I think it's part of the reason that Aedan is adjusting so well, but wow. It is hard. My feelings about my nursing relationship with Aedan change from session to session, oscillating from gratitude to exasperation. He's not ready to wean, though, and I want to keep going. I just need to find some mom-support, another tandem nurser to talk to. 

And what about the two of us, the two adults in all of this? We cling to one another when we can. We try to help one another. I feel like I'm taking so much right now, but that's because I'm giving so much, elsewhere. 

Two is beautiful and frightening and overwhelming in every way. 

One of those days

Today was one of those days when Mama hoped to get much accomplished, but Baby had other ideas. The weather has (finally) been beautiful, and I'm anxious to get the garden ready for planting. Our last frost date is June 6th, but I know a lot of people who take their chances and plant out before that. I'd at least like to get my seeds sown this weekend, if not a few other started plants.

All I wanted to do was get the manure mixed into the raised bed. That's all! It seemed like a small enough job, and I was sure Aedan could keep himself occupied while I got to it. Goodness knows there are plenty of rocks to be thrown around by little hands, down in the cleared mess I hope to one day call a productive vegetable garden. But he was absolutely not having it. He wouldn't stay with me, no matter how I tried to entice him. I found myself getting so frustrated, because I had plans and he had different ones. Why does he always get to win?

I admitted defeat, and followed him where he wanted to go. We ended up back at the house, playing with his little metal watering can, scooping and pouring water into a big black tub (and throwing some rocks in, too, for good measure).

As I sat in the warm sun, listening to the birds and the wind in the trees, the tinkling of the water and the babbling of the babe, my frustration melted. I let out a big exhale and my shoulders relaxed. Sometimes we must be reminded by the littlest ones to slow down, to step outside of our expectations, and just let the day unfold as it will.

As it happens, Aedan went down for a nap just as P got home from work. So he lay down with him, while I got to shovel manure. Happy day, indeed!

18 month old baby

Well, okay, he's actually closer to 19 months old by now. I've been meaning to make this post for a while! And I suppose he isn't really much of a baby these days. No, Aedan has fully embraced toddlerhood!

What is he up to these days? He TALKS! Wow does he ever. When he's awake, he keeps up an almost constant stream of babble, with about 20 recognizable words thrown into the mix. It amazes us how quickly he can pick up a new word; we go through periods where it seems like he learns a new word every day! Some of his words are: gah-gah (dog), ball, apple, date, wah-wah (water), bird, ice, and heavy. I think that last one is kinda funny, he usually says it when he picks up a big book or a wooden toy my dad made for him. Oh, and let's not forget "mama" and "dada"!

Aedan expresses himself in many ways. He still signs regularly, though I've slacked on teaching him new signs. But he still uses dog, milk and outside on a daily basis.

He's also become quite adept at expressing his frustration (much to our frustration!). I suppose toddlers are tempestuous creatures, and Aedan is no different. He'll be happily playing along and suddenly burst into tears because something hasn't gone right. He cries when he's getting tired (but he also signs that he's getting tired), he cries when he's getting hungry (I'm learning to anticipate his meal times), he cries when he can't get his way.

We must keep reminding ourselves: babies are not manipulative! It must be so hard to go through your day having a good 90% of your efforts frustrated. Although, he's getting better and better at most things he likes to do!

Aedan loves stacking his blocks, whereas before he only loved knocking down the towers that Mama made. He can build them up quite high, though, and he likes to add non-block things into the mix, trying everything from bits of fluff, to bottle caps to a ball.

And speaking of balls, he loves those, too! His throws were pretty random and uncontrolled until recently, but now he's really good at throwing in one direction (straight ahead!) and he's a bit obsessed with having two at a time. Maybe he'll be a juggler!

He also loves to climb: furniture, Mama, stairs, whatever (or whomever!) he can get his hands and feet gripped onto. He seems like a bit of a daredevil to me, but what do I know about toddlers? Maybe they're all like that.

He loves to play outside, too. I still walk the trails with him on my back, but lately I'll let him down for the homestretch. He can walk a good distance, and likes to chase the doggies. He also loves being pulled up and down the lane in his little sled. This summer should be interesting...we need to get a fence up around the yard!

Aedan is still nursing, but I feel like my supply has really dropped off recently. In response, his appetite for solid food has grown immensely! He polishes off some pretty impressive plates of food, eating pretty much everything we do. He loves fruit (grapes being a favourite lately), dates, oatmeal, tofu, beans, broccoli...anything we put his way. It's wonderful! I feel like we're establishing a really healthy food-foundation for him. It's a lot of time spent in the kitchen, but I'm so glad I've committed to cooking almost all of our food from scratch, and keeping only nutritious, wholesome foods in the house.

Life with a toddler is exhausting, challenging, and joy-filled. I learn so much about human development, and Mama-development, every day!

On Being Present

I didn't realize how much work it is just to be present with a little one, or to be present in my days generally, I suppose. To me this means being in the moment, fully committed to what is happening in that moment. Whether it's reading "Brown Bear Brown Bear" for the 10th time in a row, or making toast, or washing the dishes or calming a fussy baby, it takes some effort to keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

Especially when it comes to Aedan, I want to try harder to stay present. I don't want to get into the habit of just checking out: it's a real challenge! I also don't want to be micromanaging his play. I recognize that he is capable of amusing himself, and if he's in that mode, I'm happy to pick up a book or some knitting or get busy in the kitchen. But when he starts throwing the books at me, or pushing me away from the kitchen counter, I try to listen to what he's telling me. 

My biggest problem day to day is internet usage. I find myself drifting towards the computer, often checking out mentally as a I scroll through my Facebook news feed. I'll pull Aedan into my lap if he wants me, and I want to break that habit. He's too young to be learning to stare at a screen (a screen that invariably is full of advertisements of one kind or another). In an attempt to curb my Face-time, I've set it up to be way less interesting, but the habit persists. 

I've decided I want to limit my internet time to when Aedan is sleeping. I think it is my number one time wasting, mindfulness-sabotaging tool...it's going to be tough. I tell myself that I keep Facebook open all day because the chat is like my telephone. But if I'm honest about it, it's not like anyone is "calling". And I do have Skype for that. Some days I feel I'm not much different from the person with the smartphone glued to her hand, constantly checking for updates. And I don't want to be that person.

How do you stay present with your kids? How do you manage your internet time (or do you?)