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truett and kirsten

I may have given birth to a zombie baby

September 8, 2009

Tru finally started walking unaided. Well actually he started walking a while back but thats the thing with having 2 kids. Milestones start becoming not that big a deal. With one kid, it’s always “WOW MY KID DISCOVERED HIS OPPOSING THUMBS” or “HE LEARNT HOW TO PICK HIS NOSE” and everything is so fascinating and new because you have all the time in the world to sit down and observe them. 2 kids don’t afford you that luxury and now it’s like “oh great, you’re walking now – more mobility is not good for me.”

Actually we did clap and cheer and fuss over him when he finally stood up and decided to take those few first baby steps. It was so terribly cute he looked like a baby zombie with a large ass lumbering along. I think his center of gravity was off so he had to hold out his pudgy arms like a tightrope walker with each step. I tried to take a picture but in the time that I was fumbling with the camera, he tripped and fell and knocked his head and now I’ve got no picture and he’s got a giant bruise on his head. So much for technology.

With his newfound freedom also came an unexpected development though. Ever since he started walking, he’s been extremely clingy. In parenting terms, it’s called separation anxiety. He’s discovering that we are separate entities and I think it scares the living daylights out of him, like he’s realizing that Mommy is actually not his siamese twin. I couldn’t leave his sight for one second without having him scream and wail. So for a few weeks, I couldn’t go to the toilet without bringing him along. And when I bathed, I had to put him in the baby chair inside the toilet so he could see me the whole time. I only hope its a mental image he will forget when he grows up because there’s just too many issues to deal with there.

That’s the thing with having a toddler. I have a theory called the cuteness/crankiness scale. It’s directly proportionate. With every increase in the level of cuteness, there will be an increase in the amount of crankiness, and vice versa. If the crankiness goes up without the cuteness, parents will start to freak out and the number of 2-year-olds getting tied to a stake and beaten with sticks will spike. It’s just basic parenting. A little incentive to endure the tantrums and hissy fits.

Like yesterday, Tru refused to let me carry his sister. Every time I picked her up, he would throng me, grab my ankles and wail hysterically like he was being sold off to slavery. Of course, Kirsten had no idea what his beef was and she also didn’t care because her hunger was overwhelming, so I had one screaming kid in my arms and another clawing at my ankles. Then all of a sudden his tantrum subsided and he gave me a big bear hug, grabbed my face and kissed me in the ear. See, thanks to the cuteness/crankiness scale, I managed to not whip his ass and we all lived happily ever after.

But seriously, it is a real dilemma. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t grow up so fast so I can hang on to all the baby moments but then he starts learning to do all the cute stuff like zombie walking and talking non-stop in that little baby voice and I just implode with cuteness.

by Daphne

kids inc

Mommy, baby me too

September 1, 2009

One of the biggest ironies in life is that babies spend all that time trying to grow up but once they do, they want to go right back to becoming a baby again. Tru’s in one of his baby-me phases where he’s trying to relive his days of infancy. Seeing how Kirsten is having such a blast with all his old toys, he’s decided to chuck all his big-boy toys and go back to becoming a baby. Except that he’s way too big to fit and ends up looking like a giant who’s destroying them.

My legs are so long I've got to curl them up

Baby toys are so fun

Why is it called a mobile when its stationary?

But I figured it was probably just a cry for attention so today I babied him and put him on my lap and fussed over him and smothered him with kisses. 15 minutes later, his desire for mischief kicked in and he decided being a baby was way overrated. So he got up, yanked off the apron strings, climbed into his big-boy car and waved me goodbye.

Which is just the way I like it.

Bye mom, gotta run

by Daphne

motherhood

All in a day’s work

August 31, 2009

When folks find out that I’m a stay home mom with a 15 month old toddler and a 2 month old infant AND no maid, they have one of the following reactions.

1. Wide-eyed wonder. “Are you out of your mind? (Like WHY ARE YOU EVEN HAVING KIDS BACK TO BACK? Haven’t you heard of birth control, woman?)”

2. Sympathy. “I feel for you, I truly do. But seriously, go get some birth control.”

3. More sympathy. “Poor thing, betcha can’t find a job and you’re just sitting your ass down at home chilling out instead of contributing to our sluggish economy.” (Oh, trust me, I am contributing. It’s called shopping.)

So they want to know how I do it. What really goes on in this war zone I call home. Weekends notwithstanding because Superdad is around to take over, I am solely responsible for the well-being of my little munchkins (down with the wicked witch!).

I usually start my day with a cold shower – for the sleep deprivation, a cuppa – for the nerves, and a hair net – for the crazy hair. I also try to clear my system in the morning because that’s all the toilet action I’ll be having for the day. And then the fun begins.

5.30 – Express Milk. Engorgement is usually at its worst so it takes a good hour to clear the ducts.

6.45 – Kirsten wakes up for milk.

7.30 – Tru wakes up for milk. Kirsten goes back to bed.

8.15 – Breakfast with the husband and Tru.

8.45 – Superdad goes to work. More milk expressing.

9.45 – Tru goes down for his nap. Kirsten wakes up for a feed.

10.30 – Shower and play time for Kirsten while I cook lunch for Tru.

11.30 – Kirsten goes back to bed and I blitz around the house trying to squeeze in the laundry and cleaning.

12.00 – Tru wakes up in time for lunch. I feed him while expressing my milk.

1.00 – Tru’s bath time, followed by an hour of song and dance. This is where I perfect my Mickey Mouse impressions.

2.00 – Kirsten wakes up for a feed and I have 2 kids thronging me for attention.

2.30 – Tru takes his second nap. (He usually plays in his cot alone for 30 mins before sleeping) Play time with Kirsten. Here’s where I show off my already perfected Mother Goose impressions, complete with high-pitched Nursery Rhymes and storytelling. Mostly, she just looks at me like I’m off my rocker. See what I did there? Pun totally intended.

3.30 – Kirsten goes back to sleep. I shove some food down my throat and express milk at the same time, followed by a quick shower.

4. 30 – Tru wakes up. TV time on Playhouse Disney.

5.00 – Kirsten wakes up for milk and Tru runs amok in the living room.

5.30 – Tru takes his dinner while Kirsten rocks out to her cot mobile.

6.30 – Kirsten goes back to bed and Tru takes shower #2.

7.00 – Tru goes to bed for the night. You would think here’s when I finally get to prop my legs up, let my hair down and pat myself on the back for another day survived. But you’d be wrong, because 7pm is the witching hour for my sweet little baby girl. Every night at a certain hour, she will wake from her stupor and turn into the Bride of Chucky and no amount of love and attention will pacify her. So she’s practically stuck to my hip screaming from 7-11, sometimes 12. The strangest thing is once it hits midnight, she turns back into a little angel and falls asleep without the slightest whimper.

12.00 – Kirsten gets her last feed, I express my milk and crawl slowly into bed.

And all this is considered a good day, which happens like once a week. On bad days, there will be tantrums, food slinging, vomiting, screaming, yelling and kicking. I told you, it’s the toughest job in the world.

by Daphne

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