Aiming For a Happy Monday.

It's safe to say that this morning I've been a little off my game.

I mean, I'm just a little snippy this morning. Annoyed, maybe? Do you ever have days where you're just ... annoyed? Maybe not. Maybe it's just me. But there are days where I wake up and everything just kind of bothers me, for whatever reason, and today was one of those days.

Dishes. Laundry. Again. And again. 

Lydia spilling Dad's cologne. Again.

Groceries being put away, food prep for the week getting finished, again. And again.

Me attempting a Pinterest dessert that ended up looking like a mutant giant slug.

Again.

And again and again and again.

These mundane tasks are usually something that I don't mind. I enjoy them, to some extent. Or, rather, I enjoy the sense of satisfaction when they are complete. Ahhh, DONE!

But, they aren't really done, because they will be there again tomorrow. And around and around we go.

As I was loading the darks into the washing machine, I could hear myself sighing. Do you know the sigh? The SIGGGHHHHH. The heavy one that is an obvious indication of discontent. And mid-sigh, I stopped myself. Why was I sighing? I stood up and looked around. Why was I so grumpy this morning?

Everything in my house is the same. The laundry room is the same, the kitchen is the same, my tasks and chores are all the same. 

The problem, then, became blaringly obvious: ME. 

I AM THE PROBLEM.

On my phone's lock screen, I have this verse:

Let the morning bring me word

of Your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in You.

Show me the way I should go,

for to You I lift up my soul.

Psalm 143:18

It became clear to me that my morning was, in most ways, the same as it always is. But amidst the getting dressed and the grocery shopping and the food prepping and the scrubbing yogurt out of the kitchen chairs, I hadn't once paused to thank God for the day. To seek His guidance, to experience the joy of placing the day in His hands.

Of course this pause is not a guarantee that anything in my day will go well, at all. But in that still moment, my attitude is prepared for both the expected and the unexpected. And I find myself immersed in the reality of a Greater Purpose, the realization that the mundane is necessary and good. And that this day, like all of the days, will slip away soon and I won't get it back. 

And dang it, I can at least try to suck it up and have a good attitude.       

So, even now as my baby, lightly scented in Acqua di Gio, is climbing in my lap and impairing my ability to type, I say to all of you, this is the day that the Lord has made. 

And I will rejoice, and be glad in it.

Happy Monday.

School, yo.

A reader recently asked how we came to the decision to put Cub in a pre-3 program this year. The question comes in light of past posts that discuss education options, like homeschooling. I used homeschooling curriculum with Cub when he turned two and I loved it, so now the question comes as to why I chose to not continue in that route.

This is our approach: We take each year one year at a time. If something works one year, it doesn't necessarily mean it will work the next, and our ultimate goal is to continually reassess our options and make sure that our kids' needs are being met in what we feel is the best way possible. Rather than swearing to one type of educational method or another, we're going more with the belief that our kids grow and change and therefore their needs grow and change. Maybe they'll stick with one way and it will work great. What's most important to us is that we are plugged into their education and proactive in their learning.

I never thought that I would put my kids in preschool, especially a pre-3 program. My intention was to keep them home with me until they absolutely had to be in school (if we were not homeschooling), which would be kindergarten. I love having them with me. Then as spring rolled around last year, I began to get a feeling about Cub being in school.

Yes, a feeling. Super scientific, right?

I can't really explain it. I love having Cub home with me. And yet I felt this growing desire for him to have this experience. It was hard for me to recognize that my desire for him to be home and my desire for him to get the opportunity to go to an early preschool program didn't have to conflict with each other. Sending him to school didn't mean I didn't want him home. It meant that I wanted him to have this experience and that I felt that he was ready. Simple as that. There is a private Christian school in our town that offers pre-3 two days a week. For us, the school had to be a Christian school. In these early years especially, we are not comfortable having Cub in a school that does not adhere to Biblical teaching and, thankfully, we have been blessed with the option of sending him to a really great school. After reading the curriculum and having discussions with parents who have sent their kids there, my husband and I felt that this would be the best option for Cub.

We love that he will get to make new friends his age (most of his friends are younger or older). We love that he will be exposed to new kinds of learning. We love the order and constant movement of his day. We love that he will go to chapel. His teacher is kind, assertive, and communicative. Best of all, Cub loves it, too (so far).

Does this mean we'll never homeschool? No. The co-op I would want to join begins taking students after they turn four, so if by next year we feel that this is what we are being called to, we'll start taking steps in that direction. If not, we'll keep him where he is, if he loves it. One year at a time. For now, we're excited about this school year for Cub.

And there you have it!

Have a lovely day.

The Quick Fix.

First of all, thank you for all of the travel recommendations! I pooled your ideas together and came up with some things that will hopefully aid in our journey. I went to Target this morning and attempted to snatch up some goodies from their dollar aisle ... can I just say, running around with the three tots is a bit of a challenge. It was hilarious to see me literally throwing stickers, sketch pads, magnets and Slinkies into my cart while zooming through the aisles. Speed is key, in my opinion, and wow, we were fast today!

So. Thank you. I'll let y'all know how it goes.

Secondly.

Cub walked up to me today with my husband's broken helicopter and asked what happened to it. Before I proceed--does anyone else have a husband who owns a similar toy? The kind you see in the mall? Anyway. My husband is a gadget guy and hence, the helicopter. I've gone to friends' houses and laughed when I see a similar helicopter on the shelf ... there must be some kind of mini-helicopter movement afoot. Anyway. So, when Cub asked how it had been broken, I told him it had crashed and the blade fell off. He then sighed and muttered, "Well, I guess we need a new one."

I cocked my head and told him that no, we just needed to fix the old one.

And he looked at me kind of funny and asked, "Why don't we just get a new one?"

I saw a Pinterest picture the other day that showed an old man and a woman (probably a stock photo) and it wrote that their marriage had lasted so long because they were married in a time that when something was broken, you fixed it, you didn't throw it away. And as I looked in my son's blue eyes, I couldn't help but wonder if we've done a good job showing him that truth.

This day of technology is a tricky one because it is often true that when a phone, tablet, or computer breaks, it's usually only slightly more expensive to completely replace it with a nicer, newer model than to fix the broken older model. There isn't anything wrong with that, per se, if the device is something useful to you. But I'm realizing more that the speed of technology is causing most of us to embrace an "I need it now" mentality. My diapers.com orders come the day after I order them. I can transfer money into my bank account with my phone while sitting in the drive-thru at Starbucks. Netflix gives us instant movies and shows, and Pandora gives us whatever music we want based on the genre we like. Now, now, now.

And yet we kneel in front of our kids, gently grasp their shoulders, look in their eyes and tell them they need to be patient. To wait for the things they want.

It is blatantly contrary to the world we live in. The world of NOW. How do we stand firm when the culture of immediate satisfaction pushes against us?

It's something I struggle with. Teaching our children to wait. It means we have to show that we can wait ourselves, which, for me anyway, can be hard. "I want it NOW!" screams Veruca on Willy Wonka. I hear you, girlfriend.

But maybe it's as simple as fixing a broken helicopter...even if it's tempting to replace it. That when those opportunities arise, we should take them. Because really, easy-to-replace technology is one of the few things in life that's easy to replace. Friendships and relationships cannot be replaced. They have to be fixed in order to work. And what a weighty responsibility it is to show our kids how to do that.

My husband and I celebrated our seven year anniversary today. Every year I understand more how awesome it is to celebrate marriage.

Because it gets harder.

The kids take time. The job takes time. The balancing act of mother and wife gets tricky as the kids multiply and our time is compromised. It takes work, and by that, I mean it takes WORK. We really have to work at it to make it work. I love my husband more with each year, but it's because we work to make it happen and I love him all the more for it--it's really amazing. The best things in life, in one way or another, require constant work. Or, so to say, constant fixing.

I hope I can figure out how to show that to my kids.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Motherhood: Staying Home.

I remember hearing someone say once that the more you stay home, the more you want to be there, and the less you are home, the less you want to be there. The statement was in reference to stay-at-home Moms and our sometimes uncanny ability to be everywhere but at home. There are always errands to run, activities to join, and really, let's be honest ... sometimes we go because we just have to get out! Sonic, Starbucks, or a drive through the park. Sometimes being gone is the little breather we need to finish out the rest of our day, while the kids are strapped in the back!

But besides the necessary driving-to-refocus breaks, I've noticed that the statement is true. The busier I am, the less I want to be home. What I mean by that is, when I've had a few days of go-go-go, I come home and feel like I don't quite know what to do. My home isn't any different than it was the day before, or the day before that, and yet I feel a little helpless and discombobulated. That's when the urge to jump in the car and go somewhere--anywhere--hits again, and while I find comfort behind the wheel, I come home to that same awkward feeling.

However, if I really focus on staying home and don't let my mind wander to the great beyond that lies outside our front door (that usually requires spending money, eek), I find that I really enjoy being home. I love doing fun things with the kids while we're out and about, but I've grown to realize that the best way to fill their love tanks is to just be home with them, spending one-on-one time in the environment they know the best. Oftentimes while we're gallavanting around, their behavior can be notably different. That's when I know we've just been away too long. When we're home and I actually make the effort to sit on the floor and dedicate good chunks of time to playing with them, their response is undeniable. They're more relaxed, they're more imaginative, and I can just tell that they're all-around happier. I have great memories of Disneyland and Sea World as a kid, but the memories of playing Breyer horses on the living room floor with my Mom rank just as highly in my book.

This is a challenge for me sometimes because I don't sit still very well. Ask my husband--I'm that obnoxious person who asks questions during movies and who loves to be on the go. If the kids are playing well by themselves, I use that time to do laundry, wipe the countertops, vacuum, etc. Don't get me wrong--the ability to play alone is hugely important, but sometimes I think I take advantage of it. I love being attentive to my kids, but I've noticed a difference between being conveniently attentive and intentionally attentive. When that urge to "get out" comes, I find that I'm dissatisfied and snappy if I can't, and a lot of the time if I do answer the urge and leave, I'm not really any more satisfied than when I left. But if I push those thoughts out of my head and join the kids in their play, I am quickly reminded of how much I really love spending time with them. I'm reminded that their obedience and behavior are not my primary responsibilities as a parent, but that they are to feel loved and secure and valued--that they were created lovingly down to every last detail. That inner sense of worth is priceless. Obedience, without it, just makes a robot.

So, here's to staying home, and the challenge it can be to sometimes actually do it. :)

Have a lovely day.

This is Way Harder On Mom, Obviously.

Me: Okay buddy, it's time to take a rest. Let's go find Bullseye!

Cub: Okay. Because Nigh-Nigh's at Memere's house!

(Nigh-Nigh has already arrived in the mail, unbeknownst to Cub.)

Me: Yeah ... Hey buddy, do you think it would be okay if Nigh-Nigh stayed at Memere's house for a while? You know, for a long time?

Cub: Yeah! That would be okay!

(I am pathetically FIGHTING BACK TEARS as I tuck him into his bed.)

Me: Okay! Here's Bullseye. Have a good rest, buddy.

Cub: I will, Mama. I love you.

Me: Love you, too.

It's hard knowing that his beloved toy is stashed in a box in the hallway closet, right next door to his room. But the thumb-sucking hasn't happened since Nigh-Nigh was first left at Memere's house, and the fading little sore on Cub's thumb tells me this is the right choice. I'm just glad he doesn't seem to be upset at all. If he asks again later, we'll tell a grand story about Nigh-Nigh going to the zoo to join the other lions, so he won't go to Memere's expecting to find him. I just can't believe how easy this has been for him.

Because it's been a little rough on me. Sigh, transitions.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Reactive Attachment.

Tonight (Sunday) we realized that Cub left his sleepy toy, Nigh-Nigh the much-loved-and-mangled-and-hanging-on-by-a-thread-(literally)-Ecuadorian-lion, at my parents' house in Arkansas today. We realized it after we came home and it's safe to say we froze with panic.

Cub has slept with Nigh-Nigh since he was seven months old, when he received him as a gift from his grandparents. I casually tossed him in the crib with Cub's other stuffed animals and it was love at first sight. The two have never spent a sleepy-time apart. Until now.

Naturally, we were terrified.

We came up with several different options: Drive to AR to pick him up and get home way late? Meet halfway? Fly to Ecuador and try to find another street vendor selling alpaca wool lions?

Or ... just explain what happened and (gulp) hope for the best...?

I decided to just go ahead and tell him. I lightheartedly explained how Nigh-Nigh wanted to spend a few extra days at Memere's house, but he'd be back in a few days. That meant he got to bed with another friend instead! What about Squirt the Turtle? Or Bullseye the Horse? Caleb processed this and we chatted about it for a bit.

Bullseye was selected.

I tucked him in with Bullseye at bedtime and we sang our songs together. He murmured quietly, "Nigh-Nigh's at Memere's house." I stroked his hair and told him how excited Bullseye was to be his sleepy friend tonight.

Y'all, I was fighting back the tears. RIDICULOUS. We just all have really grown attached to Nigh-Nigh around here. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a little kid, not even three years old, and the only toy, I mean the ONLY TOY that you've ever attached to is suddenly gone. It really broke my heart.

I kissed his head and closed the door. He came out a few minutes later and I winced for the worst. He needed to go potty. Oh. Okay. So, he pottied and went back to bed.

And ... that was it.

The little tyke is fast asleep, Bullseye tucked under his arm.

I'm kind of in disbelief. I didn't know how it would all go down but I at least expected a few tears. Nope. I'm just .... so, stinking proud of my big boy. He's being so brave.

So, this little experience presents us with a bit of a conundrum. Caleb sucks his thumb to self-soothe at sleepy times with Nigh-Nigh. He ONLY sucks his thumb when he has Nigh-Nigh. It's not just direct correlation here, folks: It's causation. One doesn't happen without the other.

While we sang our songs and he hugged Bullseye, I saw his thumb go towards his mouth several times, but he pulled it away. Bullseye just doesn't have that luxurious, flowing, nasty, saliva-stained lion's mane to which Cub has grown very attached. Without the mane to rub, the compulsion to suck his thumb isn't there.

So, eh, at what point should Nigh-Nigh take a permanent vacation? I mean, we wouldn't really ever get rid of him--that beloved lion should be bronzed ... just hidden for a while. But if he makes it through tonight sleeping fine without him ... and maybe if he makes it through tomorrow night just fine, too ... (who knows) ... then that means that thumb-sucking might take a permanent vacation, too. He'll be three in a few weeks and we're going to have to stop it at some point, right?

At what point did you take away your child's sleepy toy/paci/blankie/lamby/smooshy/felty/snuggly (if they had one at all)? This might be time for the transition, but we're just not sure.

Have a lovely day. :)

Sabbath Shmabbath.

A professor in college once encouraged me to keep a sabbath as best as I could, to the best of my ability, one day a week. Obviously, the Sabbath is on Sunday according to Christian tradition, which typically involves church and a nap. But his challenge was a little different. He said for one day, put all work, including homework, on hold (some people have to work on Sundays, right?). For those of you who have a handy-dandy college diploma hanging on your wall, you know that you earned it through lots of homework. Going through an entire day without doing anything--no emails, no Blackboard, no quick 1-page summaries, no reading ... no READING--could be quite a challenge. Especially considering I was a senior when this challenge was issued and my major, Family Studies, was basically a huge pile of reading and paper writing. But, I liked the premise of his suggestion.

I accepted his challenge and found that even if I took a day off, it was possible to get things finished. If I took the time to kick back, relax, pray, refocus, and enjoy the freedom of my day, I was actually more productive throughout the week. A nice little way to recharge. I've taken this practice with me first into newlywed-ness and now into the busy life of a Mom, cleaning up hurriedly on Saturday night so on Sunday, the day of my choosing, I will truly rest.

Because if there is a mess, chances are I won't rest. It's just my personality. My new personality. Because frankly, a mess never really bothered me before I demanded a bit of order in my life to survive the daily (albeit fun) chaos of a young family.

So.

I typically go to the grocery store on Monday mornings.

When I go, the store is usually pretty empty, and the other customers who do happen to be there are usually other Moms. I don't know about you, but I go into the grocery store with a PLAN. I have my shopping list itemized in accordance with the arrangement of the products for which I am hunting, my purse is packed with two sippy cups and some snacks, and I zip through as quickly as I can, knowing my two year old and one year old could potentially lose it at any moment and I don't want to risk it. It might sound nutty, but experience has taught me that a little preparedness is never a bad thing.

Basically I'm a super anal shopper.

ANAL.

Gah. I hate that word.

Anyway! After my luxurious nap on Sunday, I, for some reason, felt compelled to write out my menu and make up my shopping list for the week. After Googling some new recipes and itemizing my list, I looked at the clock and figured that Meh, why don't I just go today? I could get the shopping over with and be done by the time Monday arrives!

Genius!

Stupid!

I loaded up the kids and headed down the highway to our usual place. As I parked my Swagger Wagon, I noticed that the parking lot was rather full. I also noticed that it was a bit like a demolition derby, with SUVs and sedans vying for parking spots amidst crowds of people pouring in and out through the sliding doors. Very unlike Monday mornings.

Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge into the store.

We were lucky and found one of Cub's favorite carts--a cart with a fire engine attached on the front where he can ride. I plopped Naomi in the front of the cart while Cub crawled into his red plastic contraption and away we went, with me chugging at my usual Shopper Mom pace. Which is fast.

As the grand sliding doors parted for our entrance, I stopped short when I saw the droves of people milling about the store. There were just ... just ... so many of them. I took a deep breath, whipped out my list, and charged through the produce section. I tossed our spinach, squash, grapes, and snobby cheese into the cart before peeling around the corner towards the turkey pepperoni and Smart Chicken. I almost ran into a couple that was perusing, yes, perusing, as in, taking their time, in the meat department, but quick maneuvering avoided a potential accident as we buzzed on towards dairy. I tossed in the heavy whipping cream and organic milk before stopping short by the yogurt. A lady was standing there with some Oikos in one hand and Chobani in the other, trying to decide which to get. Oikos, Chobani. Oikos, Chobani. I stood there with my foot tapping impatiently as I watched her head go back. And forth. Back. And forth.

THEY'RE BOTH GREEK. PICK ONE.

She finally settled on one (ONE!) and meandered away. I slid my cart into her empty spot and chucked five Chobanis in the basket.

I checked my pulse. My pace was still good, but boy howdy, these crowds were about to give me an aneurism.

We hit up the rest of our spots, squealing through frozen bread (Rudi's!), charging through the cereal (cereal bars!) and zooming through pasta (wheat spaghetti!), weaving between customers parked in the middle of the aisles to chat. How nice. Chatting. By the time I yanked the massive cart to the checkout, I was sweating, Naomi was fussing, and Caleb had his legs dangling out the window of his faux firetruck. I organized my items on the conveyer belt (ANAL) and said three cheers for drive-thru pick-up as I hoisted my girl on my hip and held my little boy's hand and trekked across the parking lot to our car. I picked my groceries and away we went.

Oy.

By the time we got home, I was a cranky hot mess. The kids were cranky because I was cranky. As the cargo door on the van slowly lifted in our hot garage, I stood there glaring at the sacks of groceries I had to carry inside. They were heavy. I was hot. I heaved each sack onto the counter before trudging back to the garage for another. The kids were getting hungry and whiny and I was feeling the same, but after the groceries were all schlepped inside, I still had to unpack them. Ugh. I put them away as quickly as I could, with whatever energy I had left, and tossed the kids some cereal bars before slumping onto the couch. I noticed that the kitchen trash needed to be emptied. I winced and let my head fall back on the couch. Meh, trash.

Some sabbath, yes?

What's really so sad is that I have time to get groceries on Monday. And, if worse comes to worst and I get busy on Monday, I have time to get them Tuesday. But for some reason, for SOME REASON, I decided to take a detour from my Day of Rest and instead forge through a massive commercial building enduring the perils of consumerism with two little kids. A good idea in theory and a really terrible experience in practice.

I understand now why God suggested, nay, demanded a Day of Rest. Not a "One Extra Day To Get Things Done".

So, this is just me saying that I totally failed with resting today because of an apparent attempt at overachieving. But I really didn't achieve much, save for some food in the fridge and a bad attitude.

Next Sunday? Hopefully there's a little more rest in order.

Have a lovely day.

If This Never Happens To You, I'll Go Ahead And Bury My Head In The Sand.

The other day I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for my husband. He had eaten some at the party the previous night that made him swoon, so I figured I would try to replicate the awesomeness so he could have some sweets to take to work.

I started in the evening and about halfway through, I realized this was going to be a rather lengthy endeavor. The kids were getting restless and cranky and were pulling on my legs as I rolled out the dough. My husband and I got them to bed and I returned to the kitchen to finish the rolls. I can't pintpoint exactly the moment of epic failure, but between too much butter, a misread extract, and not enough dough, I found myself up to my armpits in what I thought was perhaps an unsalvageable mess. But, I forced through and my determination resulted in three pans of cinnamon rolls. Fresh out of the oven, they tasted pretty good. At least, I thought so.

My husband tried one and nodded and said it was okay.

That's it.

My hours of slaving for a nod of the head and a "it's okay".

I'm not sure what snapped in my head, perhaps a feeling of underappreciation mixed with exhaustion (and, let's not forget, pregnancy hormones), but I gave him a glare and with much dramatic huffing and flailing of arms, I stormed to the bedroom and shut the door.

A few moments later he cracked it open and asked if I was okay.

And then the crying started.

The ugly crying. The heaving. I can't remember the following conversation verbatim, but here's the basic gist of it:

"YOU DON'T LIKE MY CINNAMON ROLLS!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I KNOW YOU DIDN'T LIKE THEM! I MESSED THEM UP!"

(Snort, snort, sniffle.)

"It's fine! They weren't bad!"

"'WEREN'T BAD'?? THAT MEANS YOU HATED THEM!"

"KATIE. The cinnamon rolls are fine! I appreciate you making them!"

"THE KITCHEN IS A MESS AND IT'S LATE AND I DON'T WANT TO CLEAN IT!"

"Uh, okay. Don't clean it then!"

"I'M GONNA HAVE THREE KIDS!!"

(Pause.)

"Um, what?"

"WE'RE GONNA HAVE THREE KIDS!! HOW IN THE WORLD CAN I HANDLE THREE KIDS?!"

"I thought we were talking about cinnamon rolls."

"I DON'T THINK I CAN DO IT! I DON'T THINK I CAN BE A GOOD MOM TO THREE LITTLE KIDS!"

"Uh, Katie?"

"I DRIVE A MINIVAN!!"

"Oh boy."

"I'M GOING TO HAVE THREE KIDS AND I DRIVE A MINIVAN! WHO AM I?! I CAN'T EVEN MAKE CINNAMON ROLLS!!"

"Oh geez. Okay. Katie, I think you're overthinking this ..."

"I HAVE TO CHANGE DIAPERS AND TEACH OUR KIDS TO WALK AND TALK AND THEN I HAVE TO KEEP THE HOUSE CLEAN AND COOK AND BAKE AND KEEP THE LAUNDRY UP AND (snort, snort, sob) ..."

"Calm down. You do a great job."

"AND MY JOB DESCRIPTION IS JUST 'STAY-AT-HOME'!" ARE YOU KIDDING?? WHAT BOZO COINED THAT TERM?!"

"Katie, go to bed."

"I'M JUST ... I'm just ... (sob, sob)"

"You're tired."

"I'm tired."

"It's not about the cinnamon rolls."

"It is a little."

"Go to bed."

"THREE KIDS."

"Go to bed."

(Pause.)

"Okay."

And I did.

Have a lovely day.

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream ...

What was your philosophy when it came to babies and sleeping? Did you do a sleep training program (Babywise, Ferber, etc.)? If so, when did you start? Did you soothe your babies to sleep?

This is a great question--one that I think every Mom faces at some point during their child's infancy. If you had asked me this with my first child, I would have had an absolute, no-questions-asked response. However, now that I've had two, I've become aware of my fantastical ability to stick my foot in my mouth.

Based on extensive research (aka having two children), I can say, with confidence, that every child is different. However, there are some general principles in which I believe that provide a sort of rough outline as to how I approach parenting at this stage: Consistency and routine. Not scheduling, but not winging it, either (well, not winging it every day, at least ... ha ha). When Cub was a baby, he put himself on an easy routine, simply because he was breastfed. Every three hours, my milk let down on its own (how crazy is that) and I knew it was time for him to eat. Badda-bing, badda-boom! Very easy. With Naomi, she was more of a hard case to crack. She was fussier and wouldn't stay on a routine, but then would suddenly fall asleep while playing on the floor. Totally random. When she was around seven months old, a routine finally stuck and she's done great with it ever since.

I am a huge advocate of the consistent pattern of "Feed Wake Sleep" or "Eat Activity Sleep". I think it's important for babies to learn to fall asleep on their own, without needing a bottle. Sometimes this happens from Day One, sometimes it doesn't happen until a few months down the road. I do think "crying it out" is okay to some degree. I think it's good for babies to feel confident falling asleep on their own. However, I do believe there is a right way and a wrong way to do this. I don't believe in shutting the door and letting your baby scream for two hours. I do believe in shutting the door and letting your baby cry for ten minutes, and then you go and check on them, and maybe they cry for ten more minutes, then you check on them. Again, every baby is different. I think rocking and snuggling is immensely important and should be done, no matter what your philosophy. But when it comes to actually falling asleep, in our family, we advocate falling asleep on your own (after lots of rocking and snuggling).

I think it's just important to look down the road and envision how you want things to be. We let Cub fuss himself to sleep at an early age and it paid off as time went on. I always rocked him before bed, but would lay him down just before he fell asleep. Sometimes he hated it, but eventually he started drifting off on his own with no problem. But, it was a battle I chose to contend with early on rather than later. Having a five month old fuss before bed is way easier than having a one year old scream from their crib. Or a two year old, for that matter. Again, this is just what my experience has shown me--maybe another Mom's experience has shown her something else.

As far as when to start, that's something you as the Mom need to decide. Get to know your baby and know his/her needs. Cub was a super-chill baby and did great fussing it out at around two months old. Naomi dealt with stomach troubles and just seemed a little more fragile to me, and we didn't officially let her fuss it out until she was several months old. Maybe we could have started sooner, but my intuition told me otherwise. Both babies fall asleep great on their own (although they both can still be rocked to sleep, which the grandparents especially appreciate!). There just needs to be a good balance of "What are your needs?" and "Welcome to our family, this is how we operate!"

One book I loved was Secrets of a Baby Whisperer. I read BabyWise and used some of its principles when Naomi was an older infant, but I do not agree with their somewhat heart-less approach to scheduling. But, that's just my opinion! I think it's immensely important to get to know your baby--to read their cues and learn their mannerisms to make sure you're laying them down when they're actually tired, and so on. Baby Whisperer encourages this and I love it.

Oh, one more thing! As far as soothing goes, Cub spit out his pacifier at one month and chose his thumb. He still sucks his thumb, but only when he has his sleep toy, Nigh-Nigh (a very loved and well-worn stuffed lion). We made it a point to teach Cub to put Nigh-Nigh back in his crib after he woke up, so he knew Nigh-Nigh was only for sleeping. I think this helped to keep him from sucking his thumb any other time, since Nigh-Nigh was always out of reach. With Naomi, she loves her pacifier, so that's how she soothes. When she's two, the paci goes (that's the plan, anyway!).

I hope that answered your questions! Sorry for the very long response. :)

Have a lovely day!

The Toddler Transition.

I have a 15 month old son and another little one due in October. Any advice/suggestions on how to make the transition easier for my son once our new addition arrives? :)

First of all, congratulations! The more the merrier. :) It sounds like your little ones will be about the same distance apart as mine. As far as preparing Caleb for the transition, there wasn't much that could be done as far as trying to explain it. He would say, "Baby in Mama's tummy!" but he really had no idea what that meant. I just tried to get him used to what it would look like having a baby around. I put a doll in the car seat carrier, the swing, etc. I still don't think it really mattered much to him, but at least I was trying!

There was one thing we were very resolute about and that was celebrating our last weekend with Caleb before his sister arrived. I was induced, so I knew when the baby would be born, but this would work even if you had a general idea of your due date. We took the whole weekend to celebrate Cub and prepare the house, together, for the new baby. We baked cookies with blue and pink sprinkles, to celebrate both baby sister and big brother, and Caleb happily decorated them. I made a "Welcome Home, Nomi!" sign and Caleb "painted" it with finger paints (more like smearing than painting, but it worked!). I still have that sign tucked away in Naomi's nursery. Then we took Caleb to the zoo and out to this really fun pizza place for dinner. The whole weekend was about having fun and being excited about the changes to come and I'm so, so glad we chose to do that.

As for the actual transition of having a new sibling, that's just a work in progress! Every toddler is different with every baby. Some toddlers are immediately in love with their new sibling and want to hold them, feed them, etc. Cub wasn't quite that enthusiastic--he liked Naomi at a distance, but that was it. But, when he realized she was here to stay, he started warming up to her. Now he misses her when she's gone and he's definitely taken on the older sibling role of showing her how things are supposed to be done. :) My advice for the actual adjustment stage would be in two parts: Firstly, when the new arrival is an infant, let the toddler "help" you by grabbing diapers, throwing diapers away, hunting down pacifiers, etc. The more they feel included with the new baby, the better. Secondly, when the kids are old enough to start interacting, give them time to do it alone. I try to give them some time to learn to play together on their own, instead of rushing in to moderate as soon as I hear a squabble.

Don't get me wrong--you'll need to teach your toddler how to play, too! It's important for toddlers to learn how to play with infants and it's important as the Mom to be sympathetic to both parties. Caleb should learn to share, but it also stinks when your little sister invades your space and messes with your stuff. I've taught Caleb that when Naomi takes a toy he wants, he should gently take it back and give her another toy in its place. She doesn't really care (yet) and it teaches him how to be proactive with her, rather than simply defensive.

I hope this helps! Congrats again on the little one, how fun!!

Have a lovely day. :)

ABC: Magnetized.

The kitchen has proven to be a tricky area when it comes to a crawling/pulling-up bebe. While I want him to have mostly free reign of the house, I do get a tad nervous when I'm opening the oven door and he's underfoot. Yikes! He has a big drawer full of tupperware and wooden spoons that he can open and play with as he likes, but, unfortunately, with the way our kitchen is laid out, that drawer is right next to the oven. This is usually fine, except when I'm COOKING. IN THE OVEN. Which, believe it or not, does happen quite frequently.

I was racking my brain, trying to think of a kitchen-friendly distraction for him without lugging his entire toy box into the kitchen, when suddenly I remembered, "Aha! Fridge letters!" I'm pretty sure I had them when I was a kid, so I figured they would be easy to find.

I figured wrongly.

Well, let me correct that. I found some, in the magnet section, that were SO tiny. I wasn't exactly excited about the idea of my son choking on a wayward "T", so I all but gave up the search. Then, a few days ago, I was at the lovely and worthy-of-many-accolades Target, searching in the toy section for a xylophone, when my eyes beheld an adorable little chalkboard and whiteboard that had, yes, letter and number magnets. That were not tiny. These would take some effort to get choked on. So, I added that item to my cart and my Cub and I continued shopping (he made out like a bandit--new sweaters, new jeans, new pajamas, AND new magnets!). When we got home, I opened the pack and stuck the letters and numbers to the fridge (and stashed the whiteboard/chalkboard in his closet--I think it may come in handy on road trips, with the magnets). He loves them! Along with some bright magnetic clips, Cubbie is now perfectly distracted from the oven. 

For now, anyway!