At almost 15 months, Alice says many words: Bah (ball), wuff-wuff (dog), dah-dee (daddy), no-no-no-no (I’ve taught her to wave her finger like a diva) and nigh-nigh (night-night). She also throws perfectly pitched kisses, complete with sucking her palm, fingers splayed over her face, to produce the drawn out kiss noise.
But her favourite word on the planet is mom.
This comes in many forms: Meh. Mum-Mum. Mumma. Maw. Mam. More often than not, it’s in the form of a question, with a lilt at the end.
She repeats it. Over and over and over. Whether I’m in the room or not. During diaper changes. While playing. In between bites of food. At daycare. Even in the middle of the night, when she pushes the edges of wakefulness — “Mumma?” — then silence as she drifts back to slumber.
She’s like a lost, wandering, confused sheep. Mom?Mam?Mumma? instead of baabaabaa.
Over the Christmas holidays, when this really kicked in, we were at the Pickering Town Centre for the morning. Alice’s questioning call echoed through the entire building, wafting up to the roof and floating down. I was right beside her almost the entire time, smiling and rolling my eyes at everyone snickering at my repetitive munchkin, my skipping CD on two chubby toddler legs.
It’s cute and flattering. It can be annoying. It’s annoying at 6 a.m. when it starts, quickly yanking me awake (doesn’t a child’s call of “Mom?” do that instantaneously to every mother?). It borders on maddening when Lucy takes up the call. Then it’s Marco Polo “Mam?” from two ends of our upstairs, feeding off each other.
My friend Jodi had a beautiful baby boy this weekend named Gavin.
Jodi and I both studied journalism and were floormates at Ryerson, and have stayed close since. We don’t see each other much, but usually email once a month, and she is a regular reader of this site. For as long as I’ve known her, she was never sure she wanted children. So when she announced she was was pregnant, most of us were shocked and incredibly tickled. It’s been such a pleasure to watch her grow these past months.
Jodi’s husband Brad shared this photo on Facebook over the weekend, and it hasn’t strayed far from my mind since I saw it Sunday.
You all probably know that look as well as I do. That’s the first look of love when you hold your minutes-old baby in your arms. There is no duplicating it. There is no faking it. That is pure, raw love.
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This morning as I tidied the house, I started absentmindedly sorting toys. Alice has started growing out of those soft, small stuffies and plastic rings, gravitating more towards larger, louder, more interactive toys. I’ve started a pile to sell/donate, and a pile to keep for family and friends’ babies.
The last time I packed toys away, I knew they would be played with again in our house. We knew we were not finished having kids, that there was one more wee McDougall-Foster to bring into this world.
But this time. Today. Today it slammed into me that we are done. Really, truly done. I will never be pregnant again. I will never breastfeed again. I will never carry a teeny being inside a pouch slung across my chest again. Those newborn coos and wails will never reverberate off our walls.
I will never have that look of new love again.
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The Gentle Vasectomy Clinic called today. It’s been almost two weeks, and they have yet to receive Eric’s results. Receptionist Brian — who 11 weeks ago candidly demonstrated how to put a numbing patch on my husband’s testicles — is now on their trail.
We are anxious and excited.
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My friend Carolyn once said when you are done having children, you must mourn for the babies you will never have. That always rang true, and I understood it from a practical level. But today the process has started.
I honestly do not want more kids. My capacity — emotionally, physically, financially — has been reached, good and bad. Our family feels right and complete.
And I’m OK with that.
But it doesn’t mean it can’t ache once in a while.
Monday marked a whole new world for us, after days of drama and sadness.
Both girls started in new daycares. Lucy to a lovely centre, and Alice to a new home with a sweet, crafty and attentive lady named Lisa.
We had a falling out with our other provider of two years. It was painful and sudden and insulting and sad and guilt-laden. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what happened.
Lucy has been booked to start at her centre for a few weeks, but we were so very lucky to find Lisa in just a few days (and I used my very own site — Durham Region Daycare — to find her! Talk about handy, I tell you).
So far, both girls are doing great and OK. Lucy is tickled to have so many friends her age, and is busy-busy-busy every day with crafts, outdoor playing, yummy food and non-stop chattering. Alice is doing that heart-wrenching thing where she tries to climb over Lisa’s shoulder with her arms outstretched to me, red-faced and screeching that silent cry. Jeezus, it killed me at drop-off this week. But I know she settles very soon after, is eating tons and sleeping and playing, so that is good. And I know she’ll get better as the weeks go on.
But man, last Wednesday when the poop hit the fan was hard. I was a mess. That’s defintiely something you have to keep in mind when your kids are at a home as opposed to a centre — the emotional involvement and attachment for everyone, and how to deal with it when things go bad and it’s time to move on.
Regardless of what happened, though, I am still a huge supporter and defender of home care while kids are young. Even though the centre Lucy is at takes kids at 2, Alice will stay in a homecare setting until she’s at least 3. It’s important for us that she gets that one-on-one care from one person. It means two drop-offs and two pick-ups, but it’s worth it to us.
Yesterday afternoon Alice let go of my hands and took two wobbly, newborn deer steps toward Eric. We wrote it off because she kinda fell forward, and pshaw — the kid’s barely 10 months old.
This morning she let go of the upstairs bathroom vanity and took two not-so-wobbly steps across the tile, hands straight up in the air, big ass goofy grin on her face.
We can’t be surprised, considering she was RUNNING with a resin table at the cottage two weeks ago:
I give it two weeks ’till she’s scampering after Lucy. And my baby days will officially be over forever.
Sarah and her son Jack Colin won last week’s Photo Friday: Messy contest. Jack’s prune-covered face scored his parents probably the most coveted prize we’ve had so far: A free house cleaning.
Sarah emailed me this morning and said she wanted to donate her prize to Kelly (Doodle’s Mom) instead. Kelly’s husband was recently diagnosed with IgA Nephropathy, a disease that has caused his kidneys to stop functioning (you can read about it here and here). The family, which includes two young girls 6 and 2, has dealt with this sudden illness, chicken pox and roseola in the past few weeks.
“…is because of Alex’s PD catheter. He will have a home dialysis unit installed in our bedroom – it’s the size of a small washing machine or a really large microwave. The room must be kept clean so as to not get bacteria in his wound which would lead to a nasty infection which could make him even more sick. We will have to wear a mask every. single. time. we handle his catheter, to prevent the spread of germs. We also have to find a clean place to keep his supplies. Even if they just come and vacuum and dust this room, I’d be ecstatic. I have panic attacks when I think about how unclean my house is and, for the sake of my husband’s health, how much cleaner we must keep it. And I wonder why I don’t sleep at night.”
Sarah said “I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the prize knowing someone else needed it so much more. I’m happy enough with being able to say I have the messiest baby in Durham!”
And so two moms collide in a gift of graciousness.
Today is Lucy’s last day at daycare for the summer.
Our wonderful home provider, Julia, closes down for the summer to spend the school vacation with her three boys (she’s a single mom). So far this has worked for us, with me working from home and getting help from our teenager Shelby and our parents. But we’ve had many conversations the past two years about how much longer we can handle the shut-down.
Certainly next summer — when I plan to be working three days a week — it will not be viable.
But we’re not thinking about that right now. We’re thinking about:
a) it’s summer!
b) ohdeargod, it’s summer!
c) what am I going to do with two kids for nine weeks?
d) how am I not going to go nutty with two kids?
We’ll be getting various breaks from each other at daycamp, the cottage and help from Shelby again and our parents. But people: There are a ton of loonnnng days ahead. And you can only craft away or hang out in the backyard so much.
So, let’s help each other out. What do you do all summer? Where do you go to play? Splash pad? Park? Trail? Best indoor place on a hot/rainy day? Festivals? Museums?
Leave a comment, and we can build up a fabulous local resource to refer to all summer.
I’m so far behind on recording the little happenings in our life lately. Before they are forgotten forever in the vortex of summer and growing kids, a list (with pics, below):
Three Dora & Diego window stickers & a beach ball now grace the glass and floor in Lucy’s room, because my girl has gone poop on the potty FOUR TIMES in a row! That’s right, no 3+-year-old poopy diapers in a week. We are so thrilled. And so is Lucy. She keeps asking if we’re calling everyone to tell them — and that “I’m so proud of myself!”
If you’re wondering what worked, it was a combo of give and take: I bought some dollar store toys, and put them in a bucket in the bathroom so she could see them. When she went poop, so got a prize. If she went poop in her diaper, she had TV taken away for the rest of the day. We only had to take TV away three times before she realized we meant business. — and that television AND a toy was awesome.
Speaking of poop, poor Alice is battling terrible constipation. A result, I think, of adding a second bottle of formula a day, Cheerios and crackers. She just hollers like the devil when she goes. We are taking out stock in prunes
Speaking of butts, Alice can sit up on her own now. It’s so adorable when they can do that! A whole new world to learn about from that angle
Also, her top two teeth are coming in. Anyone else hate teething? Yeesh.
I have piles and piles of reviews to do and write (vitamins, food, play centres, pacifiers). I think the week I’m at the cottage with the girls will be review week.
Our gardens look gorgeous right now. Must post pics.
We saw the Sound of Music on Saturday (must see the movie still, as I don’t quite get what all the fuss is about…), and we were away from the girls from 9:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. During the performance, I had this pain in my arm that traveled from my elbow to shoulder, and was all freaked out telling Eric to watch in case I had a stroke. When we got home and Alice drained my milk-swollen right breast? Pain disappeared. WEIRD. Can one get milk backed up in their appendages?
The other weekend was our local Duck Derby, and guess who was there? Bram from Sharon, Lois and Bram! Remember Skinnamarink-A-Dinky-Dink? ALL the parents in the audience were swaying and singing, blissful in reliving their childhoods, while our kids were looking around suspiciously. T’was hilarious.
For Father’s Day, Lucy made personalized keepsake jars for Eric, her Papa and Grandpa. They were a hit, and she loved doing them.
It’s stinkin’ hot out, and I LOVE IT. Been hanging tons of laundry, with Alice babbling away in her booster seat outside on the deck
I lost three nose pins this weekend — two down the drain, and one in bed. Grr…
Lucy and I did swimming lessons together for eight weeks. More on this later.
Stroller Fit class continues to be great fun, and an even awesomer workout now that instructor Kelly has kicked it up: We walk faster, use benches, tip toe up hills. No weight loss, but this weekend I fit into pants I haven’t been able to in years!
Babies and children may not fully understand the concepts of gratitude and sacrifice so woven into parenthood, but today has shown me they have their own way of saying thank you.
And I love you.
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I went into Lucy’s room this morning, and she greeted me with her usual big smile, and cheerful “Mumma! I missed you when I was sleeping!” But then she turned her head and I had to stifle a scream: The whole half of her face, from the top of her forehead to the bottom of her nose, was completely swollen. Her eye was almost closed up.
Something bit her in the middle of the night, and her body overreacted (thanks Bob the pharmacist @ Shopper’s Drug Mart in the Boonies). She’s on puffy face infection watch, Benadryl and hydrocortisone for 24 hours, after which we have to take her to a doctor if the swelling isn’t down.
She’s acting almost like her normal self, except pretty clingy and extra affectionate.
“Mummy, take care of me. Mumma, I love you. Please take care of me.”
Oh, my Baby Goose. I try. Every single day.
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Both girls are also battling colds, and we had an absolutely draining, exhausting and often angry weekend dealing with two drained, exhausted and often angry sick kidlets.
We’ve dubbed them Quasimodo and the Snot Sister.
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Alice’s symptoms are a few days behind Lucy’s, so today the snot is just pouring out and she’s swallowing excessively with what must be a sore throat. She woke up this morning with mucus, crusted green and yellow, on her hair and eyes and cheeks and chubby chin. And that sickly-sweet illness smell. She is whiny and sad and mostly miserable.
Yet each time I pick her up, she takes my face in her hands with a shining-eyed grin, leans in, and gives me an unprompted, snot-slobbery open-mouthed kiss on the cheek.
I’m sure she is echoing her sister’s plea, in her own way.
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As Eric drove to work today — late, as Lucy and I scrambled to the pharmacy — I’m sure it was with slumped shoulders: Aching physical and emotional tiredness from home, the place that normally gives such rest and relaxation from a very stressful job.
And me. I am touched out and covered in smears, some crunchy, some still soft: Tears and snot and spit and love-infused goobers from my tiny beings.
Yes, we are weary. Yes, we joked about posting an ad on eBay — For Sale: Two Small Children. Slightly Damaged. — when walking home from the farmer’s market yesterday morning, both girls screeching in the stroller.
But there is something so powerful and soul-lifting about them wanting you, and only you. Who knew one day we would wield such unflinching and unwavering comfort?
That is gratitude and love. Unspoken, but ever present.
