Robin | Farewell Stranger

Hide the Nickels

November 6, 2012 by Farewell Stranger ·

The U.S. election is finally coming to an end and, based on the comments on Facebook at least, I figure everyone could use a little levity. So this post isn’t about politicians, but it is about boobs. (I know, sort of the same thing. Still…)

First let me say that having a baby when you also have a four-year-old is fascinating. Connor tells me quite often that he knows all about babies and I don’t, but I don’t argue with him because (a) I certainly don’t know all about babies, so it would be silly to pretend I do, and (b) he likes to help, and who am I to say no to that? But sometimes his way of helping leaves me laughing.

When Ethan was born, Connor wanted to help feed him by giving him a bottle, because that’s how he thought babies were fed. That might be from books or TV, or it might be because he has been around when my twin nephews are being bottle fed. In any case, we explained to him that Ethan doesn’t have bottles yet but that I feed him, and that when Ethan does have a bottle he can help.

That was all well and good, but he wants to help NOW. Well, sure. Kind of awkward but we’ve figured out how to let him help – he can bring the nursing pillow and a receiving blanket, and in the early days when he wanted to be right in there I let him unsnap the clasp on my nursing bra. (He seems to have given that up now.)

Nursing baby, hidden nickels.

I have no qualms about breastfeeding in front of Connor. We’re not (yet?) keeping our nakedness hidden from him, and I wouldn’t worry about it with this anyway. It’s just feeding a baby. Yet somehow he knows there’s something sort of private about it.

It’s the nickels, you see. That’s what Connor calls nipples — I have no idea how that started but he obviously misheard and we’re horrible parents who think it’s too funny to correct him — and he’s quite concerned about making sure no one sees mine.

One day early on I was feeding Ethan in the car while we waited for Rich to run into a store. As I was getting ready a car pulled up next to us and, in an effort not to flash the male driver, I paused. Connor wanted to know why I was waiting, so I explained.

“Oh,” he said. “Because you don’t want him to see your nickels, right?”

Um, right.

Ditto in the mall last week, where he was extra helpful, announcing as we walked towards a lounge area that we need to find a place to feed Ethan where no one can see my nickels.

So much for being discreet.

Ah, four-year-olds. Gotta love ’em, right?

Filed Under: Conversations with Connor, Motherhood ·

The Newborn Dynamic

November 1, 2012 by Farewell Stranger ·

Well, Halloween’s over, which means it’s time to start getting ready for Christmas, right? We certainly have the weather for it.

But life trucks on, and we continue with the transition to being a family of four. Which, sometimes, is tough. I’ve got a post on Just.Be.Enough about that today and I’m sure many of you will relate. Come on over and hear how it’s going.

Comments closed.

Filed Under: Motherhood ·

Ironman Says…

October 31, 2012 by Farewell Stranger ·

Happy Halloween!

Don’t worry – he’s still cute behind the mask.

Our little lion isn’t in his costume yet (and frankly, it’s going to swim on him so we may have to improvise).

Hope you all have a great Halloween!

UPDATED:

And here’s the little lion.

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: family

Looking Into My Crystal Ball

October 28, 2012 by Farewell Stranger ·

Evidently I’m somewhat psychic.

My mom has been sorting through stuff and has come across years’ worth of childhood memories. She scanned and sent me this one, because aside from the incredible colouring job (I stayed inside the lines, people!) it’s pretty accurate.

“When I grow up I will go and live in Calgary, Alberta. I will be a teacher and have one dog and a camper. I will have a big house and a big backyard. I will get married and have children. And I will have a pool with a diving board and a slide and we will get a computer. The End.”

Impressive, right? I was born in Calgary, but I have no idea why my elementary-school-aged self thought I would move back here. But she was right. And I’m married and have children and one dog (and a computer, obviously). I’m not a teacher (don’t have the patience for it) and I don’t have a camper (although I wouldn’t say no since that would mean slightly more civilized camping). We have a house with a backyard, and I’m sure my youthful self would have thought them both the stuff (and size) of dreams. No pool though, unless you count the inflatable one that still hangs over our deck.

But who knows? With this much accuracy, who’s to say the rest isn’t still my destiny?

The crystal ball has spoken.

Filed Under: Randomness · Tagged With: living life

23 Days

October 25, 2012 by Farewell Stranger ·

I believe the common wisdom is that if you can do something— exercise, resist a cigarette, eat your veggies — for 21 days it becomes a habit. I’m not sure this same logic applies to parenting newborns.

Today is day 23. 23 days of getting to know this sweet face. 23 days of baby noises and baby cuddles and sweet baby smells.

And 23 days of not enough sleep. 23 days of feeding every two to three hours. 23 days of spitting up and diapers.

I hardly remember what life was like before he was part of it. I can’t revert back to not knowing him. But I do remember what it was like before.

I think the 21-days rule works backwards with babies. After 21 days you do what you do not because it’s a habit but because it must be done. Instead of feeling like the new freedom of carefully chosen ritual it starts to feel a little bit like chains – there, tethered, rattling.

I’ve been sick for the past 10 days or so. Just a horrible cold (with some pink eye thrown in for good measure) but the most sick I’ve ever been. The timing, needless to say, has not been great.

I’ve reached the point where he wakes up at night and I think, No. I try not to look at the clock and calculate how much sleep I might get before the next feeding. I do think about when I last changed his diaper and wonder whether I really have to do it again.

The newborn nights are tired, but they come with the sounds of soft breathing and the weight of a silky head on my shoulder. In many ways the days are harder.

I don’t do well without a routine, and a routine is something we are decidedly lacking. If any habits are being formed here, they’re bad ones – trying to sneak in extra sleep in the mornings instead of accepting that daylight has come, choosing to lie down instead of eating, getting dressed in only the very loosest sense of the term.

I’m starting to feel better (please let this cough go away soon) and am trying to force myself to do things that will help me feel better. Yesterday’s walk in the snow with a snuggly baby in the carrier was good. Getting up to eat breakfast is now on each morning’s agenda. Finding things to play with Connor so he doesn’t get bored is important for my sanity.

I know there are things about this phase that are hard. But I also know it’s temporary.

After all, it’s only day 23.

Filed Under: Hard things, Motherhood · Tagged With: admissions, perspective