What a difference a week makes

If you'd asked me a week ago if I wanted to get away from it all for a few days I would have said no. I really had no desire to leave Diva Girl. In my eyes she's still so young and she needs me.

Fast foward to this week.

Tomorrow I'm going to Atlanta with a good friend to be around something I am passionate about (besides lactating). And I'm going by myself. No babe in tow.

I am scared.

But I need this.

See, things have been kind of rough with the little lady this week. I'm going through a lot of changes and so is she. I'm also imposing some changes- such as the "no milk at night" rule. Some of this has made her mad and difficult, but the changes are necessary. It was either night-wean or get extremely unhappy and resentful of nursing, and thus ruining our nursing relationship. So even though she doesn't understand, I am really choosing the lesser of two evils.

Tonight she slapped me in the face. Twice. It stung my cheek, I swear there was a little toddler sized handprint on my cheek. But even more, it hurt me in my very soul. She was so angry when she did it, so purposeful. She looked me in the eyes and hurt me. Then she refused to say she was sorry. All I could do was cry.

So I left her with daddy and they had a talk and she apologized. I know she really was sorry, just as I really am sorry that our relationship has to go through these changes. But I think any hesitations about leaving her for a night left me. I need to do this so I can come back a better mother. Because the one that she's left with right now is running on empty.



I'll always come back for you, baby girl, I hope you understand.

Sometimes the wisdom of a mom who has been-there-done-that is absolutely wonderful and hilarious at the same time.

We walked into Dee's house and Diva Girl is in full glory- meaning that she had just woken up from a way too short nap and was cranky. She whined, she screeched, and she threw herself back onto the floor. I stood there and wanted to die. Or take a nap. Dee just said "oh, that sounds like a teething whine!" and whipped out a lemon italian ice and before I know it...blissful silence. Then, even better than blissful silence...laughter. And after eating that whole thing, the kid's mouth was completely numb I suppose. Oh, she's goooood.

There's a baby in my bed!

Most people who have never co-slept are completely confused as to why any sane person would want to. Some nights, when I have a foot in my ribs for a few hours, I think the same thing. But for the most part, I love having a family bed. I love knowing that she's safe and close and that I can meet her needs at night just as I would during the day. I love that when I'm having a restless night I can just lay there and stare at her sweet sleeping face.
But mostly, I love the mornings. There is nothing like hearing "i love you" whispered first thing in the morning by such a cute little voice. She puts her chubby little hands on my cheeks, smiles sleepily, and asks for kisses. And kisses she gets, often times more than she bargained for as I kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, her hands, her belly....lots of giggles follow this procession of kisses! Then we cuddle and we "talk" (as much as we can seeing as she's not even two) and we wake up daddy and so begins our day.
Maybe my favorite is when she wakes us both up and we all hug, with G grinning in the middle of her mommy and daddy- a family hug in the family bed. I know she'll be in her own bed soon enough (and some days it doesn't seem soon enough!) and I just wish that I could capture these moments forever.

These are the moments worth living for.

Addict

My kid is glued to the tv. She is officially addicted to Veggie Tales. And I'm the one who stuck her there in front of it.

At least I'm finding a few places for Nate to call for a job.

I swear, I'm a great mom.

the experiment

Last night was the first night in our new experiment...nightweaning! What is nightweaning, you ask? It is when you stop letting your kid wake you up in the night to have milk. Now that she's 21 months and my patience with it is a bit worn thin, the time has come. Of course, I have no idea how this is going to work...

She woke up last night and I swear she asked for milk in the most pitiful voice I'd ever heard. But I was strong and after an hour of drifting in and out of sleep, lots of whining, and one sippy cup of water (which was fetched by Daddy...he was not thrilled) she finally drifted off to sleep all on her own! Of course, she woke me up a few more hours later and I nursed her back to sleep. But hey, progress is progress, even if it's slow.


Today was Husband's birthday. I'm afraid I didn't do much. I stink.

Attack of the puppets!

We went to storytime today at the fabulous Nashville Main Library. And our time there would have also been fabulous if it weren't for one thing...

The puppets.

Apparently G is afraid of puppets. While the other kids were yelling "hello!" to Tommy Dog, G shook her head and snuggled closer to me. While the other kids shouted colors at Cedric the Dragon, G whispered "noooooo....." and clutched my arms. And then while the other kids giggled at the Wild Thing, G screamed and tried to burrow herself back into the womb.
Needless to say, we made a quick exit.

I feel like I've scarred her for life...she keeps looking at me with this serious face and saying "no puppets!" so I'm constantly reassuring her that mommy will not take her to see another puppet for the rest of her life. So while I'm feeling bad that storytime at the library isn't going to work out, I'm looking at the bright side- No Sesame Street! No Puppet/Muppet/Horrible Disney characters on Ice! No Lambchop show with the Song That Doesn't End! Wait, that show was from when I was a kid. Whatever, at least I won't have to pretend I like puppets either...ever since I was in a puppet show and a kid bit my hand, I just get the heebie jeebies.

The Gift

Sometimes I have epiphanies. It's rare, but it happens. This evening I had one slap me in the face. It kind of hurt, actually.

A little less than three years ago a girl told me that she would never have a child until she was 100% financially ready...to do otherwise was irresponsible and selfish. I didn't realize how much I'd taken that to heart. There are some words that just fester inside of you and swirl around in your head and heart and cause you all sort of damage. For me, those words did just the trick.

The night I found out I was pregnant with G, I cried. It wasn't because I didn't want her- my whole heart was already completely invested in this child. It was because I knew that I didn't deserve her. We didn't have money or insurance or space, or anything that rational people "need" before having a baby (little did I know that babies really require three things- a boob, a diaper, and a blanket). All I could think of was that I didn't deserve this gift, and that everyone around me thought the same thing. I felt guilty.

The truth is, I never really got over that. Not during that pregnancy or the 21 months that have followed. Everytime I see that shadow over a loved one's face, that second that they show that ache for another baby to hold, I feel guilty. And everytime another person tells me that they're waiting to have kids until they can take care of them, I feel embarrassed.

But I know that God has given me this gift!

How can I feel guilty or embarrassed for having such a beautiful child?

I know in my heart that the people who love me are happy for me. And I know that my child has always been provided for. She has never gone hungry, she has never been without clothes to wear or diapers to poop in, and she is growing up in a happy home.

She knows that her parents love her

love each other

love God

Let's face it, she's better off than a lot of other kids out there.

So starting tonight, I'm going to let myself be happy. 100% blissful about the gifts God has given me. My child deserves it. Maybe I do too.

I love you, little one.