Bottle versus The Goods

Before I had kids, I had many thoughts that started with. . . "When I'm a parent...(I will... or I will never. . .)". I was of the opinion that if a kid was old enough to ask for the goods/lift your shirt/unbutton your bra, they were too old to be nursing. But alas, times have changed and 3 kids later I have become that mother I use to look upon with scorn. It seems I walk a lonely road, here in this half of the Hemisphere. But. . . I LOVE NURSING.

Having said that, I have to admit lately I'm feeling a bit more like a dairy cow than a HAPPY nursing mommy.

PROB #1: Fin wants to nurse several times a night. She'll be one next month! I could just let her cry, but I love to nurse her once during the early morning hours. It's so quiet and the house is still, except for this little sweet baby, all snuggled up with her mama. If I let her cry the other times, I'm afraid she might start sleeping through altogether and then where would I be? ...Well slept, I suppose.

PROB #2: She's become proactive and very loud in her Boobage lobbing. It's like she wants to become a permanant apendage. And, I don't need any more of those, unless they were extra hands, that would be useful.

And then, yesterday I got this big idea... the bottle. That could take care of those whinny times when she just wants to comfort nurse. But, I've been trying to follow the advice of The American Pediatric Society, who has the big fat opinion that kids should go right to sippy cups and skip bottles altogether. But, as I think more on the subject, I think I have the big fat opinion that baby's have a need to suckle, and if they don't take a soother and you don't want to be the human soother, the bottle is the ticket!

Okay, so I put my plan in action, but she still spends most her waking hours chasing me around, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she wants the boob. And, so dairy cow I remain. Help! How many times should I be nursing a one year old?

Slip n' Slide Poo...

That's right. Monday morning doesn't get more fun than: Slip n' Slide Poo! Naked boy Bridge came running in to tell me: I pooed! Come See! Come See! In his haste and excitement he must have jumped off the potty mid poo, because it was trailed all along the bathroom floor, where he then sliped and fell into it (twice!!) trying to proudly show me his deed in the potty. Hats off to Bridgey, our Big Boy for the day! Hats off to Mommy for cleaning the up the poo with a smile!

Metallica meets the Children's Song Book!

Disclaimer: Long Post ahead. Labor Stories, Tantrums, Meltdowns. (Stories from the Trenches.)

And, so went the ending to our night. After our really fun Halloween Party-Part 3, with great effort I put my well sugared, overtired (great combo) kids to bed. Then I went to nurse Fin in her room, directly above the kids room where Ky was having an all out screaming match with her brother. I couldn't quite make out what was being said, so I decided they were singing my praises.

When this strategy could no longer keep away the angry throat welling up inside, I decided to sing, rather than storm down the stairs, promptly provide each kid with a good spank and perhaps a muzzle.

In the end I settled on "[Singing my] favorite hymn . . . with vigor and vim." I'm not sure what 'vim' is, but I took it to mean Metallica meets the Children's Song Book. I choose my favorite "A child's prayer". There was something about belting out a children's hymn, rocking a little baby, and 2 screaming toddlers in the background that brought humor to my heart. Fin must have found the combo soothing because she fell fast asleep.

Hooray for the Children's Primary Songs that bailed me out once again. And since this blog is the only journal I keep, I just want to add my testimony that the hymns are inspired and I love them. I find that good music in general softens my heart and helps me feel the Spirit. I'm thankful for the atmosphere it brings to our home.

The kids and Jess and I sing together just about every night. None of us sing well. Me being the worst, and I'm not trying to give myself airs. When I was little my mom told me the truth, "Honey, your tone deaf." Alrighty then. If you can't trust your mom, who can you trust.

Music helps me in my role as a mother. More times than I would like to count I have found myself singing, "Do as I'm dong" because it helps me make good choices when I'm frustrated with the kids. I figure I am their primary example of what a parent is like. How we parent will most likely influence how our children will parent later in life, whether we want it to or not.

I also sing when I'm scared. For instance, Labor. Yes, I sing straight through labor. All three times. With Ky, Jess held my hand and sang right along with me. "I love to see the temple..."and "Families can be Together Forever". Cheesy, out right weird, I know. I can't imagine how odd it must have seemed to the nurses flinting about. They probably thought, "Singing during labor is weird but, What's a temple?" Couldn't we have at least picked more normal songs.

When I was getting my epidural with Fin. I was so focused on not moving that I didn't notice I was singing until Dr. Lepert started singing along. Of course he didn't know "A child's prayer" so he chimed in with "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." We sang it together and the next thing I knew it was all over.

I love to sing. And, before I had kids I prayed so often to have a pretty voice, by the time I had a baby so I could sing to him or her, that I really thought the Lord would bless me with one. As I look back now it makes me giggle. Maybe he didn't bless me with my wish so I could learn that the "Tone Deaf" of the world could also find joy and blessings through singing.

Worry. . . a maternal art form.

Sometimes I think this blog should be titled something like: Circus Survivor or Complaints with a Smile. Jess says I should win some sort of award for how effortlessly I can crinkle my forehead and invent things to worry about. I don't mean to be such a big whiner and yet it comes so naturally.

But, since we're on the subject, let me just say: Motherhood can be so trying. I know some would glorify it with terms like refining or progressive, but really today it was just teeth grittingly hard. Some of you really know what I'm talking about, and some will, come another child or two.
I guess, I'm surprised at just how difficult it is to be the patient sweet mother I imagine in my head. After all, this is all I've ever wanted. As a child I dreamed of dollies that came with adoption papers, and picked "House" over every other game all through grade school.

And, while I find it more challenging than I expected, it's so much more wonderful than I ever imagined. I just wish I had a little book with a few answers. I don't even need them all, but a few, a glimpse of light indicating movement in the right direction would be so motivating. And, while it's always been a challenge, now that I have three little sweet spirits with all their own individual needs and wants I'm beside myself overwhelmed on some days. They're like little puzzles, advanced mysteries for me, a very mediocre detective, to solve.

Luckily there are things like these delicious bite sized brownies, my blog where I can complain and put life back into perspective, and really good music like the Mouldy Peaches for me to chill to.

While I'm so happy for this wonderful chocolately moment when the house is still and I can just be me, I do really look forward to the happy mornings when I wake to my little smiley kiddies that are excited to start the day with me, their complainy mother who loves them madly!

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Now playing: Ewan McGregor - How wonderful life is
via FoxyTunes