Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Last night, the baby only woke up only once at 3am to eat. She slept from 10:30pm to 7am, which means I pretty much did too.
This morning, Sam came into my room while I was getting ready and made my bed, just to be nice. Then she did the same thing for her little brother, and after that, she got a bag and gathered up all the dirty diapers and took them to the garbage without being asked! When Peyton threw his hamper at her while she was walking down the stairs (can't win 'em all), he immediately apologized and gave her a hug without refusing five times first. Sam worked on a record amount of preschool pages, and actually worked carefully the entire time. Her brother didn't steal and rip up any of them. Peyton also let me change a stinky diaper without running away from me and trying to escape for 10 minutes before succumbing.
The baby had over 2 1/2 hours of awake and alert time this morning, but she was still willing to hang out in her swing while I did breakfast and showered and stuff. Usually she's asleep most of the time, but if she is awake, she wants to be held, so this was an awesome breakthrough. She then proceeded to fall asleep just before swimming lessons and stay asleep until we were nearly home. (We really hit the newborn jackpot with this kid)
Everywhere we have gone, Sam has held the door or gate open for everyone else to go through first. All hail Queen Manners! I didn't get hit in the face with a slamming door because the kids ran through and my arms were occupied even once, and it's usually a daily occurrence!
During swimming lessons, both older kiddos totally turned a corner and finally (after three years for Sam!) got completely into it, stopped fake crying, and quit being afraid. It was like they were competing to see who could be the best swimmer instead of vying for biggest wimp (in fairness to Peyton, he's never been afraid, he's just shockingly stubborn and doesn't want to do what the teacher says). Both begged for more lesson when it was over. It's pretty much a miracle. I had to make sure my sister was seeing the same thing, because at first I thought it was either a desert mirage, or hallucinations indicating I was falling victim to heat stroke. My goodness, it's hot outside. Why do we live here?
Sam told me I was a great mom. Yes, it was in context of asking if she could have both McDonald's and ice cream as a reward for her swimming, but I'll take all the praise I can get.
When the baby did start crying in the car, I overheard Sam singing and talking to her to try to cheer her up. I nearly melted. Figuratively and literally. Did I mention it's really hot here today?
After lunch, my sister offered to be in charge of all three kids during quiet time so I could go to the grocery store by myself. Do you hear me people? I went shopping, during daylight hours, by myself!
The store was massively packed, but when I hopped in the huge line, they opened another register and called me over, so I had to wait less than 20 seconds. When I got back, everyone was still in quiet time, or sound asleep. They are all still doing what they were doing, which is why my kitchen is clean, my dishwasher is running, and I have time to blog.

So, we are having a truly fantastic day at our house.  I can't even believe how well the kids are behaving. I've decided, if all this is indeed indicative of the fact that the pod people have invaded and taken over the bodies of my children...

Busy Hands

Sometimes, I'm convinced any (or all) of my children could make one of those Dos Equis commercials:

"I don't always accidentally grope you inappropriately, but when I do, it will be in public."

"I don't always vomit, but when I do, it's without warning."

"I don't always manage to pee around the diaper, but when I do, it will be when you're out of emergency clothing."

"I don't always mispronounce words, but when I do, I make sure they sound like vulgar names of body parts."
(This is a very real thing at our house. Peyton has decided his new favorite food is cherries. So, naturally, he pronounces it "titties." I kid you not. He is always announcing "I love titties! I want titties!" We have video proof. It's endlessly embarrassing in public, especially because saying "he means cherries" sounds so stupid. Titties sounds nothing like "cherries," and it's just bizarre to yell about your love for cherries. But it's true, and he does. Although the constant yelling may have something to do with how hilarious his father finds this quirk.)

"I don't always have public meltdowns, but when I do, you will run into someone you know."

and finally,

"I don't always skip meals, but when I do, it will be at restaurant. After the food has been presented."

Stay frustrated, my friends.

Awww, isn't he sweet?

Yesterday, I told Peyton it was time for quiet time upstairs. He didn't seem to have processed what I said, since he didn't mention quiet time, or head upstairs, but instead walked up to me and said "My turn hold the baby?"
I thought that was so stinking sweet. He wants to hold the baby? I'm melting!
So I went to get him situated and hand her off when I had an epiphany and added,
"But, you know, as soon as you hold the baby for a minute, you have to go up for quiet time still."
Peyton yelled,  "Nooo! I want to sit on da couch! I need to play! I need to go potty! I need some food!..."
He was still yelling out various excuses when I carried him up the stairs for quiet time.
Guess he wasn't going for brotherly love after all.
Presley should feel so used.

Buffet-style parenting

It seems to me that today, everyone wants to define your parenting style in a few quick words and stick you in a box. Are you an attachment parent?  A tiger mother? An anti-vaxxer? A helicopter parent? Homeschooler? Home birther? (I don't think birther is actually a word unless it's referring to people who are still trying to turn back time to 2008 and change the election, but I needed an -er word.) There's probably more, but my newborn eats every two hours and my brain is sludge, I call this period of life acute Mommy brain. Sidenote: there's nothing cute about it.
Of course, people who adhere to any of these ideals with total unquestioning devotion tend to be, in my humble opinion, more than a little scary. They are actually similar in many ways to cult followers, regardless of whether they worship at the altar of extended breast feeding (hello, lactivists, please don't storm my blog!) or the cry-it-out method. Thankfully, I've also discovered that these glassy-eyed cult followers are either largely imaginary, or remarkably few in number everywhere except the internet. Pretty much every parent I know is trying their best with every decision they make, but instead of adhering religiously to any subgroups' standard, they're plucking a little from column A, a little from column B, and a touch out of basket C. Of course, there's so many parenting decisions, eventually you get to jar 3423ZZ, but that's another blog post.
As I am a practitioner of this particular "method" and the term "seat of my pants parent" makes me sound like I don't care about the outcome, I have dubbed myself a "buffet-style parent." This combines my love of eating with my love for my children and family. If I could throw in a reference to sleeping, this term would encompass pretty much my whole heart.
Buffet-style is a simple philosophy. All your options are before you...take what you like, leave the rest for other people. Try new stuff. If you don't like it, go back and try another option. It's all good, but that doesn't mean it's all good for you in particular. It's okay, have three desserts. Okay, so maybe that last thing only applies to me at real buffets as well as parenting, but the beauty of the system is it's customizable, so that works.
Nursing, saving money on formula and boosting immunity? Sure, load up my plate! Then I'll go back in the line a few months later and realize giving the occasional bottle means I can sleep more than two hours at a time and dad can take a turn. Wait, I'll take a little of that too please! Co-sleeping is like a seafood dish to me, lots of people love it, I am not one of them, I'll skip that station. And of course, there's the healthy dose of vegetables no one really likes but you eat them to be healthy, or at least feel better about what else is on your plate. These can be represented with actual vegetables. The possibilities are endless!
If the game changes, you can change with it. When I was in the hospital, my mother in law said the kids were obsessed with Spongebob Squarepants. She said (correctly) that I had said earlier that my kids weren't allowed to watch Spongebob (because studies show its not good for preschoolers), and asked when that changed. I said "Oh, about 36 weeks into this pregnancy." Soon, when I have my feet under me again, Spongebob will go back to the depths of the sea until either my kids are old enough to be in his target demographic, or something else renders me completely incapable of parenting without a crutch. But it's all good. A month or two of Spongebob hasn't destroyed their developing brains. A few months of gummi prenatal vitamins instead of the iron-laden puke-inducing prenatals during pregnancy won't land my kid in my basement until age 40. In short, the only hard core philosophy I prescribe to with day-to-day duties is that flexibility is the key to a happy and healthy life. I'm gung ho about flexibility, considering I used to be the least flexible person on planet earth.
In many ways, I'm still inflexible, and that doesn't just refer to my performance in a yoga class (I'm just kidding, I would never attempt to take yoga in front of other people). I still have a rigid personality and I have very clear ideas of right and wrong. But I've learned that if I'm going to be intense and hard core in some ways, the only way to survive is not to sweat the small stuff. I want my children to grow up to be good people, good citizens, and kind. Whether I manage to raise them to these ideals or not makes the early years of pooping in cloth or disposables kinda pale in comparison.
And, despite what the parenting "dogmas" preach, most of the day to day decisions are small stuff. Its the character building, the loving, and learning we do with and for our children that actually matters. So let's focus on that, and leave all the other stuff on the buffet line, for each individual parent to taste or ignore at will.

Perspective, A Beautiful Thing

It's been almost a couple of weeks since Baby Presley arrived! Yea!
We are now adjusting to life with three children, as well as the whole recovery process, and a newborn on our turf, but after that pregnancy put me through the ringer, I'm very happy to report that I feel great! Also, after already having a bit of wariness towards them, I have decided for sure that people who declare they "LOOOVE being pregnant" are now filed away in the recesses of my brain right next to those people who tell you that high school is "the best years of your life." In other words, I'll be polite to them, but deep down figure they have a mental defect or are compulsive liars and therefore shouldn't be trusted. There is a huge amount of deep-seated discomfort there. The beauty of kids and pregnancy however, is that unlike high school where you (oh so thankfully) have only one shot to live it (Zac Efron movies excepted), with pregnancy and newborns, you can have multiple shots at it and multiple experiences. That's how I came to realize not all people who love the newborn stage are crack smoking lunatics...I had Peyton and realized that babies can be very different from each other. Not all of them spend their first months trying to beat their parents into submission through extended sleep deprivation. Anyway, it's nice to get some perspective on the whole thing and understand that some people do have easy or enjoyable experiences, but not everyone gets that.  Perspective and empathy, beautiful things...of course, I hope people who love to brag about how much they love pregnancy get slapped with a whole crap-ton of empathy the next time around, but that's not very beautiful of me, and I'm working on it.
So far at least, Presley is much more like her brother as a newborn (ie: she sleeps, and only cries if she actually needs something), and not at all like her big sister (who we love dearly despite her insistence that sleeping while being held and only in 45 minute intervals was starting life on the right foot). I am very much enjoying having an easier experience (especially now that my health problems have largely cleared up now that I'm not pregnant), but after going through what I went through with Sam, I am up to my eyeballs in empathy for my brother and his wife, who also got a non-sleeper. Maybe it's a first-born thing?

If there is anything I could rank as the best thing about having a third baby, and a good-sleeping baby at that, it's the perspective I've gained over the past two children, and the knowledge of how fast and fleeting these times are. While we are busier than ever, I find myself living in the moment and just enjoying the cuddles, the kisses, and yes, even the middle of the night feedings, more. I'm enjoying feeling confident in my decisions, not panicking about every new study that comes my way, and the peace I feel that everything will be okay that only comes from having been around the block before (even though I know new things will always come along). Also, there's a bittersweet feeling that comes from the knowledge that I may not be experiencing this again, that makes it all the more precious. I don't know what the future looks like for us, but I do know, I won't be putting myself at risk of leaving three kids behind if the issues I had in Presley's pregnancy would return in another. Maybe things will change with that with treatments and medicines, maybe they won't, but approaching Presley's babyhood as the last one I'll experience has certainly made it more valuable to me. I worked so hard to get her here safely, I feel very honored to be able to cuddle her now.

Today, I'm so thankful for the perspective I've gained because it has expanded my emotions in such a life-changing way. I wouldn't get getting the fullness of experience I am having now, if I hadn't earned it along the way. So, while I would never say I "looooved being pregnant" I will say, I appreciate the lessons it taught me to have gone through three very different experiences, even if some of them were less than ideal.

You're Gonna Need It

Lately, Sam has been asking a ton of questions about how the baby gets out. She's extremely worried my stomach will explode the baby out, and I get that could seem like a legit fear at her age. Personally, I'm a little scared by the idea of a C-section myself, and that's hardy the baby "exploding" out, so I can only imagine how limited the options seem at 5. There's no exit!!!
Now, these are all normal things to be curious about, and she probably can't imagine the answers will be gross or potentially upsetting, so I'm not surprised nor upset she's asking them.
That doesn't mean I feel like answering them.

But, as I may have mentioned a time or two, deflecting Sam's questions is extremely hard to do for any extended period of time. She never forgets them. Minimizing information only seems to result in more follow-up questions. I figured I was either about to resort to a crazy lie about a cabbage patch (that she probably wouldn't buy), or I had to woman up and find a way to explain the truth that wouldn't be so gross or awe-inspiring she would feel the need to share the gory details at preschool's next show-and-tell. I often have a fear that some of Sam's more out-there questions will resurface and get me a call from the preschool teacher as Sam shares her new-found knowledge on various topics. I do not feel this fear is in the least bit irrational.

Finally, I found a video on Babycenter that seemed perfect. It was about labor and delivery, but it was computer-animation (therefore, no blood, screaming, or anything remotely traumatizing), and a side view cross-section (which pretty much eliminates Sam's ability to seek out or recognize equivalent parts on herself and worry about that). So it was all very academic, but would answer her questions.

Sure enough, Sam watched the video very intently, and as it got towards the end, she paused, looked at me and said "are they saying the baby is gonna come out that little tube?"

I said, "Yes."

Sam: "It's not gonna fit."

Me: "It stretches."

She wordlessly watched the rest of the video, made sure the baby would in fact make it out just fine. Then she turned to me with a deadpan face, said "Good luck" and walked away. She sounded exactly like the bad guy in Taken. She hasn't asked a single follow up question, or seemed upset at all in the days since.

Of course, there's always the option that she doesn't think for one minute that could possibly work in real life and I'll need all the luck I can get if I expect it to. I felt the same way when I first studied the reproductive system. Then again, I wasn't exactly five. Sam's always been advanced when it comes to skepticism and snark.

We're Just Very Friendly

Over the weekend, we took the opportunity to meet the new next-door neighbor who was moving in.
While we were chatting with her and with her dad who came from out of town to help her move, my usually somewhat shy, face-hiding son decided these people were a-ok, and wouldn't stop talking to them.
Then, he ran away for a while, came running back full tilt, yelled "Show 'em da belly, Mama!!!" and  yanked up my shirt for their benefit. Of course, I was pulling it down as much as I could and we had a fun little tug-of-war for a minute or so.
It is to our new neighbor's credit that she did not immediately turn that dolly around, re-load the Uhaul and slink away to saner pastures.
I certainly wanted to slink away. Just when you think your children have run out of ways to embarrass you, you learn you still had some dignity hiding in the corner you'd forgotten about. But you only realize its there as its leaving.

Welcome to the neighborhood. You'll find we are very friendly and love to share.
Sorry about that.