Parenting: It Gets Funnier

Congratulations - you are a mom! First and foremost, you are awesome. You probably deserve a mother of the year award, but chances are, you will not not receive one. Or if you do, it will likely be from a spam site that is trying to steal your social security number.

There are a million variations of parenting and loving that you will discover over the coming months and years. They are all wrong. There is an academic journal article that will discredit every choice you make. And every correction you might consider making. You are Facebook friends with the only person who has ever read these obscure articles. Trust your instincts. Sometimes you will know the exact right thing to do. Other times, not so much. Be ready to mess up and own up, a lot. I once called the pediatrician after I dropped a camera on my newborn's head. I could barely speak, I was crying so hard. The doctor stopped me, "Mrs. Llorens, Noah isn't crying. I only hear you crying."

Here is the best parenting advice you will ever receive from a mom (with two data points, thus making her an expert):

1. You're going to get pooped and peed on. It will not be funny in the moment but I promise: the memory will get funnier and funnier over time. My son once peed onto his own face moments after I thought to myself: "I've totally got this." Scrambling to do something about it, I shot breastmilk all over our couch because I was new to breastfeeding and forgot my breast was out. I cried at the time. Now? Hilarious.

2. It will get funnier with time. Even colic can be funny a few years off. My first born cried from 8-12 or 1 am for about 7 weeks straight. It sucked, but I repeated over and over "You are loved, you are safe" (to myself?), cuddling him while he screamed his head off. I can't help but giggle thinking about all of the parental acrobatics suggested by the happiest baby on the block techniques, which failed spectacularly. I am pretty sure I googled "Can my baby go deaf from sushing?" more than once.

3. Stay away from competitive moms. You'll recognize them by their ability to simultaneously be happier and more miserable than you. Their kids are either way more difficult or way more awesome than yours, depending on the Facebook comment they are responding to. Their partner is either Dad of the Year or doesn't help at all, depending on the gush or complaint being volleyed. They love percentiles from their doctor's office. Run. Do not engage. Their kid will eventually eat their own shit too. Or at least "taste" it.

4. Some moms have it way more together than you. You'll just have to deal with that one.

5. If you breastfeed, at some point you will forget your boob is out in public after your baby finishes. On a roadtrip to New York when my son was 9 months old, I nursed him in the car before heading in to a rest stop to pee. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window of another car and realized that my left boob was completely out of my shirt. People will be nicer about your boob hanging out than they will be about breastfeeding your hungry infant.

6. Ask for help. People are totally willing to help.

7. Don't ask for help. People are not good at helping.

8. Make fun of people that judge your parenting choices. Preferably to their face, but behind their back, if you must. More times than not, judgmental people are just insecure with their own choices. This is your gig. Do it with your own flair.

9. It is okay to feel like your child/children are the most beautiful children in the world. It is also okay that it isn't true.

10. Some Starbucks locations have drive-thrus. They were invented for moms. If the baristas at Starbucks don't know your order upon hearing your voice in the drive-thru, you're not doing it right.

11. It gets better. Like any other job, you'll get better at parenting as you go along. And whatever weird/obnoxious thing your kid is doing: this too shall pass. One day you'll wake up and they'll be on to the next weird/obnoxious thing (probably right after you figure out how to deal with that last one, but hey). The lows will be close to rock bottom, but the highs will be higher than you imagined.

12. Switch it up. Skip the bedtime routine sometimes and take them out for ice cream instead. We went through a rough patch with our son when he was two years old where it would sometimes take him hours to finally go to sleep. One night, with my husband away on work travel, I made a random decision to ditch the bedtime routine and take our wired toddler out to a local custard place. We laughed, ate a little bit and then he fell asleep on the car ride home. It is one of the moments I am most proud of as a mother. I won all around, and I got to eat ice cream!

13. When all else fails, sing "The Greatest Love of All" at the top of your lungs to your children. They will love it. Or they won't but it is almost impossible not to enjoy each moment when you are channeling your inner Whitney Houston.

Follow these easy steps and you too can dub yourself a Professional Mom. Now that you're a pro, you'll be surprised at how easy it is to laugh at all those amateur mistakes you're still making.

Don't Eat My Math!

If you follow me on twitter or instagram, you probably know that Noah and I have a weekly mother/son or Mommy/Noah date at Panera.  We started it somewhere around the time where Maya was born and I accidentally let Noah fall asleep waiting for me at a little table in his room.  Both of our hearts broke that night. I needed a way for my special guy to realize that no matter how busy or overwhelmed I was as a mom, I still had special time for one-on-one dates with him.

He always gets a chocolate chip bagel that he orders himself.  My order varies, and during my beloved cranberry walnut bagel season, Noah orders me a bagel too.  On the off season, he asks them in an accusing tone why they don't have my favorite bagel ready for me.

Noah and I treasure the time together.  While we're out eating and chatting, Ash and Maya are at home getting in some of their own Daddy/Maya bonding in.  It's worked out great for our family.  Maya often gets one-on-one time with me in the middle of the night or day when she's nursing and again when Noah is at school.  

One of the special games we play on our weekly dates is "Don't eat my math!" I invented the game because I wanted to find a fun way to add a little math into our weekly dates.  

What we use for Don't eat my math:

One delicious bagel

A napkin or plate (we do napkin because we get our food to go since we bring bagels home for Maya and Ash)

One glass of water to wash the math down

Fun attitudes, smiles and silly dispositions

 

How to play:

I rip up the bagel in pieces for Noah then he counts how many pieces there are on the napkin.  We aim for at least 10 pieces.  Last week, we had 16.

We talk about how many pieces are there, and then I say, "Please don't eat my math.  I'm going to look away, and I want to make sure there are 16 pieces when I count again."

Noah sneaks a piece, I act shocked, he laughs hard and then I ask how many pieces he ate while I looked away.  He usually will say, "1 piece."  Then, I make him guess how many pieces are left on the napkin. 

"If we had 16 pieces and you ate one how many pieces are there now?"

At first he would shout random numbers, but now he thinks about it.  We've talked about how taking one away from the number before is just the number before so he can usually tell me the number.  

I keep track of how many pieces he has eaten as the game continiues.  We keep coutning the pieces to double check our math.  We talk about how many pieces there are each time he takes one and then we talk about adding the pieces in his belly with the pieces on the plate. 

Noah loves it and he often proudly proclaims, "I ate your math!"  Sometimes he counts the pieces in front of me if I have a sandwich or something else and he warns me not to eat his math.  

Don't eat my math! is a really fun way for Noah and I to work on the basics of adding and subtracting all while keeping fully engaged in each other and our special time together.

Next time you are out with your young child, try out "Don't eat my math!" I bet you'll both be smiling from ear-to-ear before you know it!

Blogging for Ergobaby

If you know our family well, you know that Maya has spent the greater part of the last nine months perched close to me in our Ergo.  If you follow me on twitter or instagram, you also know that the Ergo has been a big part of my social media documentation of our lives.  It's been a big part of our lives from the time I took the kids to see our Governor sign Maryland's marriage equality legislation into law to the times I've flown alone with the kids.  Because it's been such an important and crucial part of my day-to-day parenting of two kids, I'm delighted to announce that Ergobaby asked me to join their team of bloggers. 

You can follow our adventures over on the Ergobaby Blog. 

Raising a Runner

My biggest fear as the mother of an energetic preschooler who runs like an Olympic champion is one day he'll run from me and get hurt or lost.

If you know our family, you know we have two happy, curious, adorable and high energy children.  Noah's love for adventure and exploration makes days around here pass by quickly, and it gives me lots of hope for his future.  Children who explore the world and engage with it have a good chance of succeeding within it.  

But sometimes, his sense of adventure leads him to climb higher, run faster, travel farther and push boundaries beyond my own comfort level.  He's good about holding hands and looking for cars when we cross the street, as long as there's not a bird he needs to chase, older kids running across or something he's "s'pose" to do.  

That said, it's something I worry about often.  For the last 16 months of his life, I've been pregnant or had a baby attached to me.  I can't run as fast as him, and one time he ran in the street moments before a car when I was eight months pregnant with his sister.  He stopped as soon as he set foot off of the curb, I scooped him up, and the car didn't even see us near the street as it drove by.  All was well, but I had visions of what could have happened.

By the time he was two, he'd outgrown the park designed for kids 2 to 5.  He moved on to the one designed for the 5 to 12 crowd.  He seemlessly climbs the highest rock climbing walls, the curvy ladder I couldn't figure out how to stand on, and he does these things quickly, without his foot slipping or his heart skipping a beat.  As a parent, I have had to learn to let him do what he can.  I stand there in case he falls or wants help.  I offer a hand, but give him the space to explore and to be himself.  I hover, unapologetically.  Some parents don't have to but Noah will jump, climb, and try anything once.  Twice if his body doesn't hurt too much after.  And many more, if it was fun, whether or not it hurts.  

Two days ago, we spent the morning with my in-laws who stopped over for a visit.  The kids adore their grandparents so when Ash's parents left we were all still full of energy and enthusiasm for life.  I knew Noah needed a nap because one of his friends had a birthday party starting in a couple of hours, and I didn't want to bring Noah to an indoor playground tunnel party with his energetic friends without a nap.  So the kids and I headed out for a car ride.  It took longer than I planned to get the three of us out the door.  Maya stood up while palming the wall and banged her head on the corner of the door way.  We gave her ice, cuddled her and then headed out.  

We have a usual nap route.  We ride past a yard about 3/4 of a mile from our house with a horse, a pony and a goat in the yard.  Then we cut down a nearby road and head to a traffic calming circle and do it over and over.  For some reason, I missed our turn, so I turned down another street, knowing we'd have to detour passed a local elementary school.  I sighed to myself.  There wasn't going to be enough time for Noah to nap, wake up, and head to the party without being groggy or grumpy.  My plan wasn't coming together.  Things weren't happening as I envisioned they needed to.

Just then, we turned down the street the elementary school is on.  There was a school bus stopped, and I saw a group of teachers in the grass outside of the school.  Then, I saw a boy, probably around 8, running in a zig zag before darting onto the sidewalk away from the teachers.  I could see the grin from ear-to-ear on his face, and my heart sank.  A few teachers took off cautiously after him, calling to him.  They followed, he ran faster, without turning back.  I immediately put my hand up to the car behind us and do to the amazing turning radius of the Prius did a three-point-turn in two.  

I pulled up next to one of the teachers and rolled down the window offering to give her a ride.  She declined saying they didn't want to scare him.  I parked the car, deciding to wait in case the teacher changed her mind.  She ran for a while after him about a block away from our car.  A man a few cars behind where we had been rolled down his window, and I explained they wanted us to wait so we wouldn't scare the boy.  He drove ahead before turning his car around too.  By now, the teacher strarted waving for me to come to her.  

As I approached, she hopped in the car.  The boy had gotten out of her line of vision and was running much too fast for the teachers.  Noah yelled, "Don't get in my car!  This is my car!"  I gently explained the woman was someone I'd invited in so it was okay.  

The teacher ducked down so the boy wouldn't see her.  I drove fast enough so the boy wouldn't think I was suspicious, but slow enough so I could stop quickly if he darted in front of the car.  The area we live in has lots of woods, so my hope was that he didn't dart in front of cars or off into the woods.  

I pulled the car beyond where the boy was running.  The teacher got out of the car, and at first he didn't realize she was coming for him.  His face still lit up with joy.  I saw the other teachers coming up from behind, but still, too far down the road.  Then, the man a few cars behind us road up, parked his car, and as the teacher ran for the boy and he darted into a nearby wooded area, the man ran after.  The boy got caught by some loose branches on the ground.  The good samaritan man caught up to him and held onto him, and his teacher reached him a few moments later.  

They shouted thank yous to us, and we pulled off immediately.  I burst into tears thinking about that boy and what could have happened.  I felt conflicted.  Worried for the boy and curious about how that happened.  Had the school broken a protocol?  The teacher had said something that implied he had some sort of specials needs.  Would they notify his parents?  Our car couldn't carry more than one other person, so we weren't going to be any more help at that point.  We continued on our naptime car ride, and it took a little longer than usual because of the excitement. 

We drove back by the school a few minutes later, and the police were there.  My guess is one of the teachers called when the boy took off.  I wondered what the police would do at this point.

I can't stop thinking about that little boy.  The joy on his face, the fear of the teachers, the kindness of that random man, my toddler's frustration and how sometimes life is bigger than the plans we make for ourselves. 

Parenting: Tagging Out

Sometimes I parent better when I'm separated from my husband.  Not separated separated.  Sometimes, my husband travels for work.  

Sometimes, my husband travels for work, and I am used to being a part of a parenting team.  I spend all day with our kids whether we're visiting a historical site, watching history in the making, or hanging out at home.  There is a point every day where I realize my husband will be home from work, and I will be about to tag out for a moment even if it's to make dinner for the family or go to the bathroom.  For some reason, once this occurs to me, I sometimes become unreasonable when my husband has to unexpectedly work late or he loses track of time.  I cannot believe that he has not kept to our little plan.  He realizes I can sometimes be like this so he tries to manage my expectations.  We win most days, we lose some.

But when he has to travel, I find my patience for everything expands well beyond what my normal patience levels are.  I can handle our energetic toddler rousing at 5:30 a.m., skipping a nap and going to bed at 10 o'clock.  In fact, recently, I solo parented (that's what we call it around here), for two weeks while my husband was away.  I call it that realizing that at the end of his travel, I'll have help and a shoulder to laugh or cry on.  

Often when my husband travels I cannot reach him over the phone to talk to him.  And sometimes we are not able to email each other either.  So when I'm exhausted, questioning my parenting or just looking for someone to share a funny story with I can't reach out to my normal teammate.  

The kids and I always take a day or two to adjust.  The kids usually become more attached to me than usual because they think if they let me out of their site I might go away for a while too.  I recognize this and I am usually prepared for a few extra tantrums, a few extra requests, a messier house and three people in the bathroom while I pee, shower or try to hide.  

When my husband is home, we do a lot of what we call "tagging" in and out and "switching" which child we're attending to.  I like my husband to have one on one time with each of the children (and so does he), but there are only a few hours at night where we're all home and not eating dinner.  We always eat dinner as a family, Ash gives Noah a bath, and now that Maya is bigger, I bring Maya in after it's underway and let her take a bath with her brother.  The four of us laugh as the baby kicks water around, and then I swoop her out and Noah finishes his bath.  It works for us.  Then I put the baby to bed while Ash and Noah tell stories and eat Noah's bed time snack of granola cereal.  After the baby is sleeping, Ash and I switch and he either sits in the room with her or holds her while I read a few extra stories to Noah and then hang out until he falls asleep.  It's a team effort, but since we know my husband may have travel here or there for a night or a week or two, we're set up so we can make small adjustments to the routine without having catostrauphic results.

It works for us.  

Sometimes, I think I parent better when I am the only person responsible for what is happening.  Why can't I parent like that all the time?  I know the responsibility is shared, but what is it about the day-to-day that I always think I deserve to tag out?  There's not a difference between the activities we do when my husband travels verses when he's home.  The biggest difference is the way I think and feel about things.  

Lately, I've adjusted my attitude to not think of the end of my work day as the second my husband gets home.  Once he's home the house, the food, the kids and the ways in which we choose to handle those things are a joint responsibility, but I've been working on the attitude I have about it.  It took me parenting alone for two weeks without his help (physically or emotionally) to understand how I could change myself.

I look forward to my husband walking in the door every day.  And I know sometimes, we didn't used to wait to bombard him with things to do and all of our ideas until he had his shoes off.  I've never handed him the kids as he's walked in the door, but I think sometimes I didn't recognize how overwhelming the chaos of home can be as soon as you walk in the door.  We're happy, loud, grumpy, rowdy, tired, laughing and all kinds of things at any given moment.  I've been trying to make a better effort of letting him come in, get used to the family and then I hand the kids off and take 10 minutes to pee because I can. 

Disclaimer: Single parents are the bomb.  I think happy amazing thoughts for them every day.  I respect moms and dads that do all the parenting on their own without someone to cheer them on, thank them, listen to them or help them.