Letting Go of My "Baby."

Good afternoon! And happy Wednesday!

As you all know, I have recently ventured into the world of the transitioning toddler, complete with potty training and the arrival of (although not used yet) "big girl bed."

All of this is preparation of baby sibling to arrive this fall. 

V shows all the usual signs of growing up. She's getting gradually taller, and speaking more. Her hair is growing, and she's learning new things every day that are leaving her less and less like a baby, and more like an independent little human being. 

Here's the problem, though. 

I can not stop calling her my baby. Or the baby. Or sweet baby girl. I find myself answering, "Yes, baby?" when she asks for my attention. Or telling coworkers "I've got to go pick up the baby." Or telling my mom, "Well I have the baby with me." 

Every mom has fears that she won't love her second child as much as her first, and any mom who tells you differently is lying. But, every mom who already has more than one also will tell you  that the fears are generally unfounded, and your heart just grows bigger instead of having to squeeze in another one into the same size. 

Violet has had two full years of my undivided attention, and for now, I suppose I was ok with that continuing on until it had absolutely had to stop. But my unabashed attachment has started to become more of a detriment than a positive thing as of late. 

We have entered a phase of full on regression with potty training. She doesn't tell me when she needs to go, and she hasn't had a victory in weeks. It's like she all of a sudden decided that she was still totally cool with being diaper dependent, despite her excitement just weeks before over becoming "mommy's big girl!"

When I ask her, "Are you a big girl or a baby?" She doesn't even hesitate. "Baby, mama." The other day she actually wanted her dad to spoon feed her. SPOON FEED HER. We haven't spoon fed that girl in over a year, but she relished in the game, and Chris happily obliged. 

So the other night, after we put her to bed, I told Chris, "We have to stop calling her 'baby'."

The fact is she's not a baby anymore. And nothing, including the arrival of an actual baby come fall, is going to stop or change that. This is so much harder than it sounds. I still remember very clearly the first moment I held her in my arms. Or the first sweet days of nursing around the clock, and hearing that cooing sound they make. I remember the first time she could grip her own pacifier, and being so excited about this little milestone. 

And as much as I wish time would slow down for a little while when it comes to her, it only seems to speed up. I have no choice but to acknowledge that in 5 short months, another tiny little human being is going to need more of me than she will. And we're doing her a disservice by not preparing her for that. 

Sure, she'll always be the one who made me a mom. I'll always hold a very special place in my heart just for her, and we will always have our things that we do, just the two of us. But I think maybe it's time to start sharing a little bit of the blame, and making a change in myself to let her grow, and guide her as much as I can. 

Even if it's a huge pain. Or frustrating. Or takes a while. Or I really, really don't want to do it. 

Here's to the transition year. Wish me luck! 

Love,

Dominique

That Moment You Realize You Wouldn't Change a Thing

I just sat down with a piece of ice cream cake from the kitchen at work. I went in there knowing exactly what I was looking for, and as I cut out a big chunk, I thought, "Well this should help me gain back some of that weight I lost being so sick."

Then I headed over to the water cooler, because pregnant women are required to drink their weight in water every day, and I grumbled to myself, "I can't believe I decided to get pregnant again."

I would be lying if I said these past few months haven't been rough. After our loss in December, I yearned to try again, and as luck would have it, we got pregnant again really quickly. This pregnancy came with all of the good signs of health - including horrific all day nausea that lasted me from 6-14 weeks. And still occasionally hits me.

Add to that my crazy decision to start potty training my two year old,  her biological decision to start cutting the world's worst baby teeth, and a rather large and still growing new baby bill, I have been at my wit's end.

But back to the kitchen. I was standing there with a red solo cup full of ice, and suddenly - something mentally knocked me on my butt. I stopped and thought - I mean REALLY thought - about what I had just mumbled to myself. Of course I decided to get pregnant again. I wanted this. I WANT this. I'm so happy to be expanding my family.

Was I not just telling my coworker, who had been so kind as to share with me that her and her husband were thinking about expanding their family soon too- that it was hands down the GREATEST thing that had ever happened to me? I went on and on and on about how funny, and sweet and beautiful my little girl was, and how even when she was being such a pain, I still loved her more than anything, ever.

I scolded myself silently about how stupid it was to be complaining about such a blessing, and how lucky I was that we were in this (sometimes sinking) boat again. Even if it's hard. Even if it's frustrating. Even if I sometimes long for my childless days of free-spending and glasses of wine with dinner.

I had that moment - that moment in the middle of the hurricane, when you block all of the negative for just a half second, and realize that everything you're going through is what you actually wanted. And it brings a smile to your face, because you did it. It's crazy, and chaotic, but that will end. And when it's all said and done, your life will be better for it. Even if the road was a little bumpier than you originally thought.

And yes, that's sappy and cheesy. And I don't care. I wanted to share my moment.

As always, thanks for listening.

Love,
Dominique

Happy Thursday! Here's a throwback picture for you in honor of #TBT

One year ago, with workout guru, Sweet V:

This Blog of GIFs Will Perfectly Sum Up How Much I AM Liz Lemon While Pregnant

We are the same.

                                   On celebrities talking about their pregnancies:

                 "I'm just eating really healthy, and modifying my exercise routine to stay feeling good." -                      every celebrity ever while pregnant

                                                                      Me:

                                 On whether or not I want to give birth "Naturally."

                            On what it's like being pregnant this time around with a toddler:

On how I feel about the Bruster's located within walking distance from my house:

On my thoughts on how, when, where and why you do your parenting:

On the little victories of pregnancy:

On whether or not I believe that not breastfeeding will hurt my child:

On cravings;

And finally, on mommy haters (thankfully of which, I know none personally!)

Happy Wednesday!

Love,

Dominique 

Three Days of Absolute Misery: A Success Story

As many of you may know, I have recently decided to venture into the world of potty training with my 26 month old daughter. Part of my reasoning, as I can now announce proudly, is that another tiny little bundle of pooping and peeing joy will be joining our family in the fall, and I ain't buyin' no two sets of diapers.

And so, armed with a pdf copy of the Three Day  Potty Training Method, a bag of pull ups, about 20 pairs of tiny underpants, a printed potty success chart, star stickers and various dollar toys, and a very pink, very special Abby Cadabby "big girl" potty, I began last Friday morning with a twinkle of optimism in my eyes.

And then the pee started.

The first accident was shortly after her morning milk, and it didn't. even. phase her. She just peed standing in the den watching curious george, none the wiser of the liquid mess running down her legs. With the warmth of what I can only assume was someone else's much more patient mother possessing my body, I smiled at her and said "That's ok. Let's get you some dry undies." and I got to business cleaning up the mess with a  few paper towels.

The rest of the morning continued much in this manner, with me basically following her around saying 100 times "Remember to tell Mommy when you need to go potty," and her continuing to ignore me completely and pee everywhere. By the time hubs got home for his lunch break, I was about to break down. I told him about the pee. The pee everywhere. The paper towels filling in the trash cans, the stack of dirty undies growing in the laundry. He got the gist of it when I continued to pump her full of juice and water for the "learning opportunities," and she had about 5 more accidents in the hour he was home. By that evening, I had already done laundry once that day, and was gathering it up to start the next day.

As I was opening the fridge door to figure out what she was going to eat for dinner (my most hated mother task) I managed to scrape my thumb against the freezer door. Before I knew it, a very loud profanity had left my mouth, and I stood there - defeated. I quietly walked into the playroom adjoining our kitchen, sat on the couch, and began weeping. Not crying. Weeping. I was done. I quit. I just wanted to put her in a pull up and call it a night.

Thankfully, it was about that time, so that's exactly what I was able to do. I posted my findings on facebook, and got encouraging words, and a few "drink some wine!" remarks. If only. Unfortunately I was three days away from me being able to spread our new baby joy so I couldn't drink any wine and I couldn't tell people why.

The next morning I woke up, and despite my resistance, I put her in a fresh pair of undies. The morning started much like the last, only this time I wasn't so caught off guard by the struggle, so I handled it better. Plus Chris was home, being Saturday, so I had help with the reinforcement.  To my surprise, shortly after her first accident, I heard "Go potty 'gain." So I rushed her to the potty, pulled down the undies and there it was -glorious success. And then - the more miraculous thing - we had SEVEN more successes after that. I was floored. Was this working? Was she really starting to get it? Was I dead and in Heaven?

Not to say day two was a breeze. We still had more than our share of paper towels thrown away, and we did have one horrible green poop incident that I won't detail. I guess the stress had really gotten to her. But that night, I gave her her bath, and we danced in her room after like we always had. Everything seemed a little lighter. We had made progress.

Day three was almost identical to day 2. I won't bore you with the details except to say this: That night after bath time, as we were dancing, she suddenly stopped, and said "go potty!" She then ran to her own potty and sat down and went. Not a drop was spilled. I thought I was going to wake the neighbors with how loud I praised her. And I can proudly say that she's had several instances since where she has stopped what she was doing to go use the potty.

We're not out of the woods. It's been 5 days, after all. But I can say that we have not had to do laundry today, and we have not used a diaper since Thursday night. I am so proud of my big girl. I really believe this method is the best way - even if you end up weeping on the playroom couch.

Because you gotta get a little uncomfortable. And as a friend said to me, "Remember. She's been peeing and pooping in her pants her whole life. This is a big change."

And by God, if you are able to, stock up on wine or whatever you drink of choice. Fortunately, I did have the good sense to buy a family size pack of double stuffed oreos before I tried this.

Good luck to all of you potty training moms out there! It will all come together eventually.

Happy Tuesday!

Love,
Dominique

My Toddler is Kind of a Jerk, Ya'll.

Remember my sweet, angel child who ate like a champ, and went down to sleep with little to no fight, and loved her bed?

Well that chick is gone, man.

Who or what has replaced her in a terminator-like toddler robot hell bent on the destruction of my sanity.  Well that may be going a bit far. But she IS kind of a jerk now.

It's not like I'm saying I don't still love her and enjoy her. I'm just saying that if someone re-imagined a production of A Christmas Carol with an all-children cast, I imagine the lead would be played by a two year old.

Repent your ways, Ebenezer King! Or, just keep dumping those cheerios on the floor and crushing them with your bare feet. Whatever.

Today I actually went into my bedroom and closed the door, right in the middle of the morning's one millionth tantrum over nothing. (Mommy! Bubbles. No, Violet I'm eating. Let mommy eat. NO EAT, MOMMY. BUBBLES.)

I sat on my bed and made my grocery list in peace while I heard her tiny voicebox creating the loudest noise imaginable ever to come out of a 27lb human being, whilst banging her fist on the door and saying "MOOOOOOMMY! OUUUUT!"

I closed my eyes and I thought, "I just don't want to talk to anyone right now. I just want to be alone. And maybe with a glass of wine. And some cheese. And some oreos, if we have them."

We do have them. But I can't eat them at any point from 6am until 7:30pm any given day because my toddler has some sort of spidey-sense about what I've gotten into in the pantry and comes running full speed any time she hears the bag crinkle open. I don't want to share my oreos. Not today. Not ever, if we're being honest.

And every night now, after bath time, I get to play American Gladiator as I wrestle a squealing naked 34 inch tyrant to the ground to get on a diaper, a quick layer of lotion and some matching (or whatever I can grab quickly) pajamas before "reading" the Mickey Mouse flap book for the 100th time that I so stupidly got her for her birthday. Then it's on to the struggle of blue blanket/pink blanket for an extra 30 minutes. I hand her her pink blanket. "No pink. Blue blanket, mama." So I hand her the blue blanket. "No blue, mama. Pink."

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Until I throw both of them in her crib and make a mental note to take one out after she's fallen asleep.

After 7:30 to 8pm, I'm finally free to relax and enjoy an episode of Pretty Little Liars or New Girl. Or, to fall asleep on the couch, which is more likely to happen.

And yet, despite these trying times, I wake up each morning excited to see her again. And excited to spend some time with her, and see what funny things she'll say or do, and what amazing things she'll learn today.

And I wake up each day willing to try to make her happy. And that's what motherhood is about, right? The trying? So I figure, even if I shut the door for a minute, I'm still doing ok.

Happy Tuesday, everyone. May the Oreos be always flowing.

Love,
Dominique

Let's Just Go Ahead and Talk About Gay Marriage

First, a little background. 

I have a journalism degree. I haven't ever done a darn thing with it, but there was really one reason that it's all I ever wanted to learn about. My grandfather. My mother's father passed away in a car accident when she was just 16, so I never got to know him, except through her stories. One of my favorites was about the time he work for the Birmingham News.

My grandfather was approached by some of the janitorial staff to write up a list of grievances to represent them. My grandfather was told not to do this, as it would surely result in a strike. Believing in their cause, he did it anyway. And he got fired.

I feel, in a way, that I've failed him. I believe in something, and I've stayed silent, out of fear. Fear of what some of my dearest friends and family will think of me. And let's be honest, I've never really believed my opinion was that important. 

Important or not, there's something going on all around me that I have to talk about. Gay marriage has become the hot topic of today, particularly in my home state. I've always been quick to say that I don't know what the big deal is - but it IS a big deal. I believe in gay marriage. 

There, I said it.

I think about my daughter. My sweet two year old, and how all I ever want for her is her happiness, whatever that looks like. I shudder at the thought of something denying her that, especially if she has worked so hard for it. 

Dear baby girl, I know I don't have to worry about your basic human rights. Someone will always be fighting for that.

But what about your basic human privileges?  The ones that earn you respect, and kindness, and happiness? Why would I not fight for those? 

Everyone who earns it has a right be treated with respect and kindness. And to file their taxes jointly. And be recognized as legal parents. And be normal, contributing, loving members of society.

And when my daughter grows up, and she hopefully meets the love of her life, I can't wait to meet them. 

Happy Wednesday to all!

Love,

Dominique 

Two Years of Parenting (And An Entire Year of Toddler-Hood): What I've Learned

Hello everyone! Happy Monday! It also happens to be Groundhog Day, and for whatever reason the Birmingham Groundhog decided to take the day off. I mean the guy works one day a year, and he took it off? I can only assume he is the one millionth victim of the Flupocalypse that this winter hath brought upon us. I hope he feels better soon, and as I had no other choice, I had to look up ol' Punxsutawney Phil, who saw his shadow. Again. Of course. Because he lives in Pennsylvania.

But I digress. Seeing as it is already February, we are just two short weeks out from my sweet V's 2nd birthday. This second year has been as equally a doozie as her first, although very, very different. No more are the days of snuggles, bottles, and quiet mornings. Now we live in the age where her vocal chord volume is permanently set at eleven, and time outs are an unfortunately frequent part of our day.

Still, despite all of the crazy and chaos, I'm really going to miss this special age. This year was the year for milestones. The year she went from baby to little girl, and grew not only in inches and pounds, but she grew a voice and a sense of humor and a really hilarious wicked side. But now I would like to share with you my most valued lessons, to be taken with a grain of salt, as always.

1) Find your high ground. No, not for battles, but for keeping things out of wandering tiny hands that don't need to get in them. A designated "stuff" mantle, shelf, or cabinet is highly recommended for things like your phone, ipad, car keys, wallets, or anything of that nature. Those ten tiny pudgy fingers are faster than lightning.

2) Find your bribing weapon. In our house, a tiny pastel colored marshmallow, or "nummies" as we call them, works absolute wonders when I don't have the patience or the time to try and get my child to lay down so I can change her. This also works to get her out of the bathtub, into her chair, or anything that I generally need her to do with the least resistance.

3) Know that almost everything is just a phase. We went through a horrible time with our cars eat for a month or so, but now it's like it never happened. This too shall pass, moms.

4) Prepare to be subjected to most repetitive torture imaginable in the form of favorite movies, TV shows, songs, or books. This is the time when your kid is learning what he/she likes and doesn't like. And what she likes is probably going to be what she likes today, tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now, who knows? I've seen Mickey Mouse Three Musketeers every day for the past three weeks.

5) Never think that the above rule applies to food. What she eats today might be thrown to the ground in disgust tomorrow, and then gobbled up like it's her last meal the next day. Hang in there. Meals are one of the hardest things to have to do three times a day, every day. And giving her bologna and hotdogs twice a week because she loves them for a while isn't going to hurt anybody.

6) If you can't get them to nap, enforce a quiet time. Especially if you are staying at home with them. Everyone needs a break, including you. Little bodies need time to rest, so put them in their room with the camera going, give them a few books and shut the door. Then repeat after me: "I will NOT clean during this time." It's tempting, I know. But save that mess for when they are awake. Spend this time watching girly shows your husband doesn't like and eating a meal you don't want to share. And cookies.

7) Try your very hardest to stop comparing your toddler to everyone else's. This year will be full of leaps and bounds, and some stalls and delays. The only person worth listening to about a concern is your pediatrician.

8) And also along those lines, don't believe for a second that your child getting older and more self sufficient means you have to be ready to have another one and do it all over again. Families come in all shapes, sizes and ages. Maybe you could be baby ready tomorrow. Maybe you can't fathom the thought of going through that again yet. Or ever. Maybe you thought you were ready and then you went and had margaritas with your friends, and remembered that pregnant women can't have margaritas and maybe just one more month of waiting would be ok. Whatever your thoughts on expanding your family, it's normal, I promise. And when people ask you when you're having another one, just say something like "When we can afford diapers again, am I right?" and everyone will agree diapers are expensive and we'll all have a good laugh and it will be forgotten.

9) Kiss those chubby cheeks every single day, as much as you want, even if you have to hold them down to do it. Day by day, that baby fat goes away, and one day in the not so distant future, getting your child to kiss you will take an act of congress for a while.

10) Let them make their own decisions, within reason. It's hard when you're going on an outing, and you've picked out the perfect matching outfit with the cute shoes and bow, and she wants to wear a yellow daisies onesie with a purple tutu and green socks. Just let it happen. The look of pride on her face will be worth it alone, and these are the outfits you'll remember. And always, always take a picture.

11) Let the messes happen. Give them washable crayons and a piece of paper, and try not to cringe when they miss completely and draw on the table. It will come off. The water on the bathroom floor from the splashing will dry, as will your clothes.

12) Don't fear the "terrible two's." Obviously, we haven't reached this part yet. And honestly, it doesn't happen to all children. Some are just well behaved, laid back kids. Just think of it as the "trying two's." Their world is getting bigger and bigger, and they're learning as they go.

Besides, I hear three is much, much worse.

Haha!

Well hopefully that helps with you moms out there that are about to venture into first time toddler hood. Thanks for listening, as always.

Love,
Dominique