Connorisms

Yes, four is a very special age. It’s in-your-face hard and great at inducing mama guilt. But it’s also precious, funny, and so worth remembering.

I’ve had several very earnest thank-yous from Connor since Ethan was born. Many, in fact. He waited a long time for this baby, and he loves his little brother more than I could have anticipated.

“Thank you for laying a baby,” he told me one day. (If only it were that easy.)

“Mama, I love you,” he said on another. “I love you too, buddy,” I said, but he was not to be outdone. “I love you MORE, because you made me a baby.”

What can you do but laugh? And hug him, of course.

Connor-Ethan-bottle

He’s not lacking in confidence. Not about most things anyway.

“I know all about babies and you don’t.” (All righty, then.)

“I’m going to keep working on [his LEGO creation] because big boys like me NEVER give up.” (It’s true – he doesn’t.)

He did not get his skill with LEGO from me. He can play with it for HOURS, and he’s putting together things way beyond what he should be able to do at his age. And if you give him the LEGO he wants for Christmas, you’ll be rewarded with this.

Connor_Christmas-Lego

Pure joy.

But, oh, he’s a mischief maker too. You can see it in his four-year-old face, can’t you?

Connor-snowman

If we nail him for something and he doesn’t like it, the admonishment will ring throughout the house: “Bad parenting!” he’ll say, sounding very much like he means it. (Again, we laugh. But not where he can see us.)

His sass comes through in his language and the requests we can’t refuse.

“Can I get a little help here?”

At times he seems much older than he is.

At others, he’s very much a little boy.

“Mama, can I have some time with you?”

Connor-polar-bears

These polar bears are a Christmas art installation at a local mall. Except Connor calls them, “snowlar bears.”
I think that makes more sense, don’t you?

And he likes to wear his clothes backwards.

backwards-clothes

Because he’s four.

Bartering Sleep


Moms complain about not getting enough sleep. It’s just what we do. I don’t know even one mother who isn’t tired at least some of the time – either tired from months (or years) of sleep deprivation, tired from trying to keep up with her kids and their energy, or just plain tired of not having more than a few minutes to herself here and there.

It’s that last one that fuels the rest of it.

asleep in the car seat

Duh, mom. When you’re tired, sleep.

The someecards collection is full of pithy quips for moms about how solo grocery shopping counts as “me” time and peace and quiet is only found in the bathroom (and often not even then). So we take those moments when we find them, even if we have to lock the door to keep our beloved children out to do it, and continue our pursuit of time to ourselves by sacrificing that most cherished of commodities: sleep.

I know some parents who can function on very little sleep and so can quite handily go to bed late and still be fine when their offspring disturb their slumber. I’m not one of them. I need sleep – the undisturbed, drool-on-the-pillow-and-wake-up-when-I’m-damn-well-ready kind. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I haven’t had enough of that in the last four-and-a-half years.

Unfortunately, this need for quality sleep is at odds with another one of my primary requirements for sanity, which is to have a decent amount of time to myself. And so, like so many other mothers, I sacrifice one for the other.

sleeping baby with owl hat

Even little night owls need to sleep sometimes.

Even now, with a three-month-old baby I have to get up with at least two or three times a night, I often choose me time after bedtime. Before Ethan was born — before I was pregnant with him, even — I was the type who called it a day somewhere around 10 p.m. My routine usually included a good stretch of time reading in bed but, even so, if I saw the clock click over to 11 it was a rare thing indeed. Now, despite having both a preschooler who gets up early and the aforementioned night-waking infant, I have to force myself to go to bed at 11 or live with the regret in the morning.

And it’s still not enough. It’s not enough sleep and it’s not enough time to do my own thing. But I’m not alone in my pursuit of the elusive balance.

Judging only by the number of pithy, sleep-related jokes I see shared on Facebook I would know I’m not the only mom making the choice to stay up past my bedtime. But I’ve also had this conversation with several friends, all of whom bemoan the fact that they need more sleep than they get while admitting they stay up too late just to have the time to themselves.

Sure, sleep begets sanity, but what good is sanity if you’re not awake to appreciate it?

 

To Hold You While You Sleep

Babies don’t ask for much. Oh sure, when we’re tired or can’t figure out what’s wrong or just plain don’t have enough hands it feels as though they want the world. As though their needs are the only thing that matters. As though we’re never again going to be able to do what we want (or need) to do without worrying whether a small person needs something first.

That’s the reality of being a parent. We have these small people and they have needs, and those needs that feel at times like so much to ask are really pretty basic.

They need to be fed. They need to be clothed and kept warm. They need some stimulation and for someone to promise to teach them the ways of the world.

I look at the smallest person in my life and I know that he doesn’t even really know what he needs. He just looks to me to give it to him. I can fix what’s uncomfortable and most of the time whatever that is is all he really needs fixed.

sleeping-on-dadHe was fussy the other day and I knew he needed to sleep. But sleep is so hard when you’re a mere 10 weeks old. Sleep, which we cherish as parents, is not something that comes easily when we’re this new. So we look to our mamas to fix it.

I picked him up and nestled him in close to my body and held him tight. All the tension in his small frame released, suddenly, like a drain had been pulled so that all the angst could just swirl away. Within seconds he was snoring.

He was like that again today; for him, mornings are hard. And today it was dad who was there to pick him up and give him the place and the space to sleep. Because sometimes it’s really that simple.

Sometimes all we need is for someone to hold us while we sleep.

 

I wrote this last week (and then didn’t publish it) before the tragic events in Newtown, Connecticut. I wasn’t going to post it this week but then I decided I would and, in doing so, count my blessings.

 

Day of Silence

Back to the Kitchen

I’ve come to the conclusion that I owe my husband a huge thank you. Now that I’m no longer pregnant (and sick) and actually feel like eating, I’ve started cooking again. As I stood poring over recipes the other day I noticed how foreign it felt and realized how little cooking I’ve done over the last year. I knew Rich had kept us going and ensured no one starved (and to be clear, he’s a far better cook than I anyway) but I didn’t realize just how much I had stayed out of the kitchen. [Read more…]