Explore: Life in Pictures, Vol. 2

In volume one of this series sharing pictures of stuff I’m doing in pursuit of my one word for this year, I gave you an update on the things we’d been doing and places I’ve explored just for the joy of it. This one is different. This is the Connor edition.

When I introduced my word I mentioned that it wasn’t just about going places, though certainly that’s part of why I chose the word “explore.” It was also about exploring other things, and one of those things is my relationship with Connor.

I’ve mentioned before that I struggle with him a bit, and I think it’s because in some ways we’re so alike while in others we’re so different. He pushes my buttons. Sometimes it’s because of who he is – he’s high energy, and he’s four. Frustration comes easily to me when I’m tired, which I am most of the time these days. And I tip into sensory overload really fast, and he seems to like to exploit that.

But a lot of the time it’s because he doesn’t get what he needs from me. So I’m trying to fix that.

I went to his preschool last week when he was special helper, and got to see him doing all the special-helper jobs and doing show-and-share with his class. He was so cute sitting in the special helper chair showing his LEGO dinosaur and answering his classmates’ questions, and in that space and time I was a mom with a preschooler talking about something he loves. It was a good reminder.

special helper at preschool

Connor still loves his baby brother. He loves to play with him and hold him and talk to him. His generous nature prevents him from lashing out because the baby gets more of my attention than he does these days. I’ve been encouraging him to help with Ethan and getting down on the floor with them and trying to remember that Connor was my baby at one time too.

brother with baby on the floor

I’ve been trying hard to join him when he plays LEGO, though it’s not my strong suit. But what I am really good at is appreciating the stuff he builds (because, seriously, he does amazing stuff) and taking pictures of him with his creations (even when he has a dopey smile and needs his hair cut).

boy with LEGO creation

And we’ve been doing things. Going to the library and then reading the books.

reading with preschooler

Today I was starting to do a Jillian Michaels’ yoga meltdown workout while he was supposed to be in quiet time. He quietly opened the door and came in with his LEGO, his drink and his snack, and said he was lonely in quiet time. Normally I would have shooed him out, but instead I thought, “Why not?” I asked him if he wanted to do yoga with me and he gamely joined in, standing in a small spot next to me. So I opened up my space and my heart and moved over to give him his own yoga mat right next to me. As I moved I saw him watching me and then copying my moves.

Like mother, like son.

It’s been good.
GFunkified

Essence of Now

***
I’ve got a new post at Huffington Post that shares a little bit more about our move last year. Would love it if you would come and read!

Farewell to 2012 in Photos: Link-up

We had a great Christmas but I’m glad it’s over, you know? I’m ready to plug away on the stuff I want to work on instead of being consumed by the madness of a deadline most other people are working towards as well.

But before I get too deep into new projects it’s time to look back.

I love this time of year for all the lists of top moments, big news stories and all that wrap-up-the-year stuff. So why not do our own? I did this photo retrospective last year and it was a great exercise in looking at just how much had happened in a year.

Having put together this post for this year, I can say I think 2012 was equally full of unexpected stuff. We had a baby, my brother and sister-in-law had twins, and my parents actually moved out here. I didn’t do as much adventuring or travelling as I had hoped, but we were blessed with so much other good stuff instead. Hard and sad stuff, too, but we’ve got what we need to get through it.

Want to join me for your own year in review? Pick one picture for each month of the year (or do a photo dump – whatever you like!). Then grab the button (code is in the right sidebar), post, and link up with me to say farewell to 2012 in photos.


 
The link-up will be live from December 28 through January 4. On January 5, one linker will be randomly chosen to receive a package from Little Love Media that includes a blog evaluation report and a blog strategy. (Thanks again, Alison!)

Let’s do this.

January

In January we had just moved to Calgary and we were embracing winter. I had chosen “vibrant” as my one word for 2012 and I wanted to really get out and enjoy our new city and all it offers. We went skiing and skating, and the picture above was at the Lake Louise Ice Festival. Awesome month (that also included the beginning of something else awesome, but more about that when we get to October).

February

 

In February we were settling in, and quite well overall, but we were starting to really miss having my parents close by and Connor really missed Grandma.

March

 

March was mostly just March. Except that at the end of the month we lost Michael.

April

April was about motherhood. It was quiet moments and acceptance and Very Serious Conversations.

May


In May I was pregnant. ALL THE TIME. (And perhaps a bit obsessed about certain aspects of it.) To distract myself from the constant morning sickness I started thinking about names and came across this gem from when I was pregnant with Connor.

June

 

In June I still wasn’t feeling quite right. I was struggling with depression and sad after we found out we weren’t having a girl. But Connor turned four, and watching him turn into a little person in a way he really hadn’t been before was pretty cool.

July

In July I was still working on finding my way, but I think the best drama of the month resulted in this.

(I got the ring fixed, by the way.)

August

In August I was still thoroughly in pregnancy hell. It was hot, I was tired, and I had just had enough. But that was the month something clicked for me with Connor. It had been a long time coming, and it’s something I still remember. (I don’t always achieve the motherhood equivalent of Zen, but my awareness is there and that’s huge.)

September

September was all about getting ready to have a baby. I started mat leave in the middle of the month, we finished Ethan’s nursery and I spent some time thinking about (and preparing for) giving birth. And good thing, too…

October

…because in October this beautiful boy came into the world.

And it was good.

November

In November I was tired. But I spent a lot of time cuddling a baby, and it was good.

December

winter moon

And that brings us to the end of another year. December has been a good month, and different in a good way from the rest of the year. I feel like I enjoyed things more and took time to appreciate the goodness and opportunity around me. A nice feeling to take with me into the next year, don’t you think?

What was 2012 about for you?

 



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.

 

No Longer Only

I have said, “Be gentle,” approximately 962 times in the last two weeks.

“Gently, please.”

“Do it gently.”

“C’mon, buddy. I really need you to be more gentle.”

Whatever form it takes, it’s tough to say and tough for him to hear.

It isn’t even usually related to Connor’s interactions with Ethan. C is pretty gentle with him, for the most part, though he does need to learn that there’s a time for patting the baby on the head and when he’s nursing isn’t really it, especially when it involves Connor climbing up on my lap to reach that little head.

No, it’s me he’s rough with. And Rich sometimes. And of course the long-suffering dog. Running jumps and flying leaps that are problematic for a mama with various sore body parts. Hitting because he’s excited or mad. Throwing things.

He’s bored, a little bit. We’re doing our best to combat that, but there’s bound to be a transition period and he’s smack-dab in the middle of it.

I feel bad for him. He so badly wants to help and be involved, and we’re letting him do all kinds of stuff. He’s the official diaper getter, wipe distributor, and nursing pillow finder. He takes the dirty diapers and throws them away before I’m even finished putting the new one on. He puts the soother back in, pulls Ethan’s hat up off his eyes and sings to him when he’s fussy.

He’s just the best darn big brother and I’m so, so proud of him.bathing-newborn

Last night we gave Ethan a bath, and Connor really wanted to help. But he’s just a bit too enthusiastic and after being redirected when he was splashing too much and asked to wait while Dad did some rinsing, he slunk off and turned on the TV. His head drooped and he sunk down into the couch cushions and I almost couldn’t bear it.

I went to sit with him and talk to him about how we want his help and how he’s doing such a good job, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“I’m not a good helper.”

And my mama heart broke wide open.

It’s hard to convincingly tell your biggest boy that he is a good helper when you’re crying like a hormonal mess, but I tried. I told him he was a really, really good helper and I’m so glad we have him and he’s just the best big brother we could hope for.

He’s just not our one and only anymore. And right now that’s tough for everyone.

The Sound of Silence

He is quiet. So quiet that it’s easy to forget he’s there. I did forget once, until I heard a squeak and thought What’s that? and remembered the baby.

I hear footsteps in the hall upstairs. The other one is supposed to be in quiet time, though with him there really is no such thing. He is not quiet. Never has been.

The silence of this new baby is unexpected.

***

We had just come home from the hospital. The baby was quiet. Sleeping. Sitting next to me at the kitchen table, Rich sent the signal across the room and the first notes danced from the speakers.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again

It’s been on his playlist for a while now but in that moment those notes got caught in my chest.

Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping

The day-two tears rose, pushing past the music and breath and lump in my throat. I didn’t allow them a release.

And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

No words, no questions, no what ifs. Just a time remembered when things weren’t so silent.

***

This time is different. Of course it is. This is a different baby, something I’m reminded of every time I pull off his little hat to reveal the blond hair underneath. It has a reddish tinge. We don’t know who he looks like.

I am different. I have done this before.

Some of this new-baby stuff has come back to me like the flash of a time-travel machine, leaving me in a time and place that’s disconcertingly the same but not.

Some of this is new. Feeding one while entertaining another. Really tiny clothes. The soreness.

But mostly it’s the silence that’s different.

It won’t always be this way, I know. He won’t always be a textbook eat-poop-sleep baby. Day 13 today, but how long will it last? That question sits with me now, tapping at the window of my silent experience.

He is mine. He feels so very mine, even though I hardly know him at all.

I’m trying to just enjoy the silence.

***

Lyrics: The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel.