A Stomach Sleeper



Snoozing away.



Afternoon nap with big sister Harper.

Babies are supposed to sleep on their backs, right? Right.  Tell that to Cece.  She doesn't like it.  She refuses.  So what is a mom to do?  I let her sleep on her stomach, that's what.  There are lots of people who wake me up in the middle of the night (Will, Abby, Harper, the cat, and Matt) so I have to do what I can to minimize Cecilia's waking up during sleep time. 

There is plenty of guilt that goes along with her sleeping on her stomach.  I know my doctor would disapprove.  At her doctor appointment he said: "you know that back is best."  I smiled knowing and said "yes."  Then in my head I told myself to not over share.  I didn't lie to the man, I just simply agreed with him.  I am doing what I have to do to survive.  

Asleep on the couch.

One day the doctors will all come out with new studies and tell us to put our babies to sleep on their tummies again.  I will just tell C that she was ahead of the trend.

Sleeping in on the weekend with Elvis and Matt.

When did I get so sappy?

My friends sent me these pictures of Abby from a recent birthday party. I looked at the pictures while at my desk at work. I had to stand up go to the bathroom because I was crying. Why? Why do pictures of my little girl rock climbing make me cry?

I think it is the fact that she is so small and the wall is so big. The image shows her much bigger and much more grown up than I expected. Really, it is the fact that she looks so brave. I wasn’t there and she was okay going up that wall on her own. She is more than okay; she is smiling, looking into the challenge. That’s my Abby. I couldn’t be more proud of my little girl who won’t try broccoli but will try climbing a wall without a look back.

What, my baby has blue eyes?

Ceci is now four months old today. And get this, her eyes are blue!  Where did that come from? Her eyes are beautiful and clear and most of the time she is smiling when her eyes are open, however their color suprised me. I guess I just expected the pretty brown or brown hazel eyes like all my other children.

 But this, like so many other things, should not surprise me.  Now that I have four kids, I know that each one is different and weird in their own way.  Cece has blue eyes.  Harper takes off her pants the second she walks in the door.  Abby is a crafting genius.  Will is crazy competititve at board games.  As I have looked back at baby pictures of my three big kids, people tell me how simallar my children look as babies (actually they tell me how much they look like Matt).  Each time, it surprises me.  They are so different and individual to me, even as babies.   I guess baby C will be the one that stands out.  But I have a feeling that I will be the only one who can see it.

Target trip dreams of grandeur

I shop at target.  I shop at Target a lot.  For me, trips to Target have changed over the years.  I used to go all by myself, wander the aisles until I found everything I needed (or wanted) and go home when I was ready.

Then I had kids.

Now, instead of slowly cruising through the clothes clearance racks, I have learned to drive the massive kid cart up and down the aisle full of noisy toys that do not interest me.   I've learned hustle kids out of that toy aisle without buying anything but the birthday present that we came in for...and the popcorn, gallon of milk and diapers we also must have.  I can break up fights while checking out.  I have learned not to worry (as much) when one kid bolts down an aisle to look for a dora toy or a dessert or a movie that I won't buy for them. 

And then there were four.

Four rocked my world and my Target trips.  Going to Target with all four is a trial of my sanity, yet still I go.  Someone is always yelling.  The baby is usually crying (she doesn't like to sit in that little seat) and Will is mad that I won't let him stay home by himself and play x-box.  We usually have to run to the bathroom as soon as I have picked out the frozen food items.

Why, why, why do I do it?  I think I have Target trip dreams of grandeur.  I am remembering the days of easy Target shopping and think that I can do it again, just this time with the kids.  So into the store I go, chasing after all 4 kids, a gallon of milk and the memory of buying things for myself.  

I could just go to Target by myself at night, but I don't. This elusive dream of a easy Target trip now includes the thought of my kids playing nicely (and quietly) while I shop.  I just keep trying again because I can't stay away from Target...and I can't stay awake late enough to go by myself.

Explain time to me

As I straightened my hair this morning, a feverish and snotty Harper stood with me. Normally she runs away during this time, but today she spent time with me partly because she didn’t feel good and partly because she wanted to negotiate her TV watching schedule for the day.

Harper: “MOMMY!!”

Me: “I’m right here Harper. Please speak quietly because baby C is still asleep.”

Harper, with no change in her volume: “Mommy, can I play with your alligator?” (Alligator is our word for my straightening iron.)

Me: “When you get older, you can straighten your hair with my alligator.”

Harper: “Mommy, when you get to be smaller, you can play with my Dora toy.”

Her logic is infallible.

Time is hard for kids. When is older? How do you explain that you get older but not younger? When exactly is older?  How do you measure the years? Measure the minutes? I think children start to understand around 7. Or at least in my house, Will can understand time passing. His main motivator to understanding time is that he wants to play x-box. He can tell time enough to know when it is too early to ask to play and too late to start a game.

Abby is five and is still having a hard time understanding. Her favorite store is Five Below. She wants to go all the time, every day if I would let her.

Abby: is it time to go to Five Below?

Abby: is it time to go to Five Below now?

Abby: Can we leave now!?!

Me: Abby, we can go in a few minutes. I still need to feed baby C. Look at the clock Abby, we will go when the clock says 11:00.

Abby: How long is that?

Me, trying to do the math in my head while nursing the baby: um…about 35 minutes.

Abby: Can we go now?

Me: No, when the clock says 11:00.

Abby: Oh my gosh, that is forever!!! We haven’t been to Five Below in a long, long time!!

Me: Abby, we went last weekend. Remember we bought the string craft? (or the sticker craft or the shrink dink craft, I lose track).

Part of me wants her to understand so that we don’t have the whiny, annoying conversations that leave us both frustrated. They take all the fun out of going to Five Below. The other part of me doesn’t want the loss of innocence that comes when they are bound by time.