parenthood – Paige is Parenting

Putting down roots

Hello friends,

It’s been a minute since I’ve last written here, and that’s with good reason. Becoming a mama of two back in December turned out to be only the beginning in a year of changes for our family.

We bought some land in upstate New York and moved from our beautiful apartment in downtown Stamford, Connecticut.

A then two-year-old J, after we bought our land

We moved into a townhouse with our toddler and newborn, and then I went back to work, with a now three-hour roundtrip commute.

I got accepted to begin PhD level coursework.

I had two health scares that, with the second one being most recent and a major wake up call to prioritize my health and well-being again.

J began preschool. H is crawling and trying his best to catch up to his big brother. D and I are marveling at how fast life seems to be going and trying to make time for each other in the whirlwind of this stage of our lives.

Our house is now in the early stages of construction. By this time next year I will be writing from a room in our “forever home.”

It got me thinking about how we choose where to raise our children, and how much of that choice is based on where you can afford to live.

D and I had never had any intention to move back to upstate NY, as smitten as we were with downtown life and the conveniences it held. But when we looked around for a home for our family, we found that there just wasn’t anything we could get for our money that looked like the houses we had grown up in. So we looked further and further north until we landed back in our hometowns.

I had a conversation with an old friend last night that made me realize how prevalent this kind of move is. She had been born and raised in Westchester and intended to buy a house with her husband in the area, until realizing that they were priced out of the market. And upstate they went.

Even thinking back to why my parents moved here from the Bronx with my siblings and I almost twenty years ago. They wanted a yard for us to play in and for us to finally have our own bedrooms. Things that they couldn’t afford in the neighborhood they had been raised in.

I’m sure this is a tale as old as time (to blatantly steal a phrase from Beauty and the Beast). City populations grow and grow, so people begin to spread farther out to afford housing. But still, there’s a small sadness about not being able to afford a home in the place you’ve called by that name for so long.

I feel fortunate that our parents chose to move further north while we were young, even as the prices here steadily creep up as well. We have a home here and a safe place for our children to roam. I just hope they get to have the choice to raise their own children here as well if they choose to.

My toddler’s speech progress, part 2

We had Jameson’s six month evaluation last week for his speech progress.

He has come a long way.

Things Jameson loves: Buzz Lightyear and a good leaf pile

He uses his words when sharing (or not sharing) with peers, instead of his hands. A big relief!

He imitates new words and sounds with confidence!

He can string together a number of phrases and can be understood most of the time!

According to his speech therapist, he is still about 6-8 months behind his non-speech delayed peers but we are confident he will close that gap eventually.

He requested a side of cereal with his chicken tikka masala. An odd choice, but a choice he was able to ask for!

I am just so happy my little boy is trying out new words every day. I’m so happy we are able to understand him more and he gets the joy of feeling understood.

We still have many moments when it is hard to understand what he is trying to say, and he will still resort to gibberish often when he is playing. We still have moments when a meltdown occurs because we can’t understand what it is that he wants. It isn’t perfect or easy, but its progress.

It’s another step forward for our baby boy. He’s speaking more and more each day, and for that I am so very grateful.

The start of maternity leave

I will be 37 weeks pregnant tomorrow and today was day one of my maternity leave.

It came about a bit earlier than I had planned, thanks to a brief hospital visit for dehydration (thanks, stomach bug), followed by another head cold.

At the advice of my OB, I “pumped the brakes” and took my maternity leave early.

And the timing couldn’t have been better. Jameson developed what we’re pretty sure is a case of pink eye yesterday, so I got to spend my first day on leave at home with him.

Sure it was a slight wrench in the plans I had to finish packing the hospital bag and organize the house. But honestly, it was also a relief to know that I could just decide to keep him home with me today without worrying about the repercussions of calling out of work again with a sick child. Or having to guiltily try and send him to school and hope he does okay because I can’t afford another missed day.

My little pink eye guy, eating just the cream from some candy cane Joe Joes during our Christmas movie marathon

So yes, it was a different kind of day than I had planned but I’m still very grateful for it.

We mostly stayed home and played make believe games and watched one too many Disney Christmas movies. I got to make him every one of his meals today, which was nice to do. And I even took him food shopping with me in the morning (something he really enjoys because he loves to sample stuff as we go along).

Like mother, like son. This kid loves to snuggle in laundry baskets, just like I did when I was little. It cracks me up and warms my heart all at once.

He’ll probably be home with me again tomorrow and thankfully I can once again choose that option without stress, thanks to being on leave. Man, what a pleasant feeling that is.

Pregnancy Update: 37 weeks

It’s funny how so much changes from your first to your second pregnancy. When expecting Jameson, I documented every week diligently and took monthly bump photos that have been lovingly scrapbooked.

At 37 weeks, I’m pretty sure this is the first update I’ve written for this baby. Oops!

My beautiful baby shower, thrown by my sister and mom

As for bump photos? I was laughing to my mom about the fact that I might have five or six photos on my phone. Honestly, even that number sounds a bit high.

The only real “bump shot” I took around 4 months pregnant

I had heard from other moms that after your first pregnancy, the future ones fly by. Boy, were they not kidding!

Here I am, almost at the finish line of my second pregnancy and it feels like only last week I was finding out that I was expecting again.

I’m currently entering my second week of maternity leave, thanks to some back to back illnesses that caused my doctor to encourage an earlier rest period.

I’m finally packed and ready for our hospital stay and for Jameson to stay with our relatives while we’re at the hospital with the baby.

I’ve been able to do some fun stuff with Jameson to soak up these last days of him being an only child.

I got to attend Jameson’s school dance during the middle of the day. He was excited to have me there and I was grateful to have the time to spend with him.

An outdoor holiday lights walk made for a perfect family day while trying to social distance while waiting for baby boy #2 to arrive

And my ankles have remained relatively un-swollen since I’ve been off from work, which is a real miracle in itself!

My scheduled C-section date is the 29th but I’m hoping this little guy decides to make his appearance before then. Jameson arrived at 38 weeks, so we will see!

I’m excited, I’m ready, and probably as rested as I’ll ever be, so I can’t wait to welcome baby number two into our family.

The return of working mom guilt

This past Wednesday, Jameson got hurt at school. He was running towards the slide, slipped, and rammed headfirst into it. This resulted in a seriously big bump that required me to leave work and take him to his pediatrician to get looked at.

The entire drive to his daycare had my mind reeling with how bad it might be. When the director called me that morning she had told me to “prepare myself” for how bad it looked, even though he was running around again and seemed to be doing fine.

Needless to say I was not doing fine as I pictured how horrific his head might look.

To try and calm my nerves I called my mom…which turned out to be the opposite of a good idea, as she went over the many reasons why she thinks our daycare sucks and we should pull him out of there.

Thankfully, when I got there he was in good spirits. The bump was large, no doubt about it, but still better than what I had been picturing in my mind after the daycare call.

All smiles for mama when I picked him up early for a doctor visit

Even with the relief of seeing that he wasn’t as injured as I had imagined and hearing from his doctor that he didn’t have a concussion, I still felt terrible.

My child got hurt again at daycare. My child got hurt while being in the care of someone else. This wouldn’t have happened if I was home with him, the guilty voice in my head scolded. I should have been there.

Never mind that toddlers trip all the time. Never mind that my son has fallen, tripped, and somersaulted over apparent thin air while in my care. He had never gotten a bump like that, and for that I was racked with guilt.

So what did I do to quell said guilt? Talk to another mom about it to make myself feel better? Journal about it even? Heck no.

I did the stereotypical working mom penance of ice cream and material objects.

One scoop of vanilla ice cream with a mountain of sprinkles and whipped cream at eleven in the morning? Coming right up!

Not one, but two new Halloween books from Barnes and Noble? Sure, you deserve it!

And why don’t we throw in a ten dollar realistic elephant toy since you’ve recently learned the word elephant and it will make mama feel better for having abandoned you at your very pricy daycare all day?

Picking out one of his new books at Barnes and Noble

Now here was my injured but happy as a clam child, thumbing through the pages of his new pop-up book with a belly full of sugar.

And there I was on the other side of the camera, feeling guilty still but placated by the fact that there was a smile back on my child’s face.

D came home later that evening and shook his head at the impulse buys I had made.

“He didn’t need any of this stuff, honey,” he said.

“Maybe not,” I replied. But I needed it.

The myth of balance as a working mother

In a perfect world, each twenty-four hour day would magically fit in all of the things crammed onto my to-do list.

The laundry pile (aka my Everest) would never reach peaks that make my husband give me a sideways glance while casually mentioning that there sure are a lot of unfolded baskets of clothes in the living room.

The floors would be spotless, the toys put away, and the only dishes in the sink would be the ones from tonight’s homecooked meal.

But alas, this is the real world and it can be a total sh*t-show.

My son encapsulating the “lovable hot mess” vibe that his mama does as well

When I get out of work, assuming I don’t have to grocery shop or run some other errand, I have approximately one hour before Jameson needs to be picked up from daycare.

This leaves just enough time to cook something quick (if D is not home and cooking already) or try and tidy up a bit, OR try and tackle the laundry pile.

The hour flies by.

Then Jameson is home and it’s family dinner time, bath time, and chill time with him. Getting any type of housework done while he is awake after school is pretty much a no-go, as he is super cuddly and wanting all of my attention.

I’ve tried folding laundry while sitting next to him and it always ends up with him playing a game of knocking over the folded laundry pile.

It used to be that he would fall asleep at 7 and then I’d go workout or do some housework or work work, but those days are gone too. He doesn’t get tired until 8 now and by then I am also exhausted and ready for bed.

And have I mentioned I’m pregnant? Pregnant and tired? Well I am both of those thing to the degree of very.

Anyway, this rant about finding time to do everything I want to do during the work week is brought to you by decaf coffee and interrupted sleep due to pregnancy bladder.

Now back to our regular scheduled programming.

Dining out with a two year-old

It’s starting to feel like Autumn here in Connecticut and we wasted no time doing some of the most basic Fall things you can do: hitting up the Farmer’s Market and going out for cider donuts.

Jameson’s love for apples has returned just in time for apple picking season. Truly his mother’s child.

D and I took Jameson to our local Farmer’s Market this Saturday and it amazed me at how mature he has grown in these few months.

Our first trip to the market was probably sometime in the beginning of the summer and consisted of D shopping for fresh produce and baked goods, and me chasing after Jameson as he weaved in and out of the seller stalls. An Instagram worthy trip it was not.

Cut to this weekend and our little man was in it to win it. He stood my my side the whole time, named the different kinds of fruits and vegetables with me, and happily chomped on an apple that he picked out with enthusiasm.

Earlier in the morning we went to a local diner for an early bird breakfast after dropping D’s car off at the shop. Which brings me to our title topic: dining with a two year-old.

With a big boy fork and a straw full of juice, who could be happier?

Here too I have seen how Jameson is growing up and into the person he’s going to be.

You see, Jameson loves food but hates standing still. Especially if we are somewhere new like, oh, a restaurant. He thinks its silly to sit and wait for our meal when there are perfectly good nooks and crannies to be explored. Like the giant gumball machine filled with what he assumes to be brightly colored bouncy balls. Or the table of toddlers sitting right behind us who are probably just waiting for a friend like Jameson to walk over and make their acquaintance.

That is where my tradition of bringing a “busy bag” has come in clutch.

Feeling proud of himself for matching the square to the square. He did this puzzle about five times. Note to self: buy more puzzles.

I don’t remember when I first heard of the idea of a busy bag for toddlers in restaurants, but it has been a heaven sent more times than I can count. I’m sure it was probably the result of scrolling on Pinterest one sleep-deprived newborn night.

Either way, it helps D and I stick to our rule of no technology at the table. There is nothing we hate more than seeing a kid sitting at a restaurant with their parents, playing on an iPad the whole meal. It’s even worse when the parents are also zoned out on their phone.

Let’s be real for a moment. Tech addiction is a serious thing these days and most of us are addicted to some degree. It can take some planning and commitment to rein it in and focus on the present moment.

In our house this looks like time limits on television, no iPads for kids, and a self-imposed time limit on my own social media accounts to remind myself to unplug. There’s actually a section on iPhones to set this limit, which is helpful.

But back to our busy bags. They usually work out great in keeping Jameson occupied while waiting for his meal. Of course this time in particular I had recently dumped out his busy bag with the intention of refilling it with new items…and completely forgot to refill it.

What was left when inside when I opened it up in the diner? One shapes puzzle and a hot wheels car. Oh man.

I could feel my heart pick up it’s pace as he finished his puzzle for the third time and pushed it to the side.

“Wow, you did!” I exclaimed, a little too excitedly as I eyed our waitress who was busy with another table. Damn.

“You want to try it again?” I asked. My husband shook his head and handed Jameson a hot wheels car instead.

The joy of playing with that lasted about three minutes and then he was trying to stand up in his high chair.

“No no, Jamie. We’re waiting for our meal,” D said.

Jameson sat down with a dramatic cry that had some of the other patrons giving us the side eye.

Trust me guys, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. That was just his warmup cry, I thought to myself.

We went back and forth with this borderline meltdown dance for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes, before our breakfast landed on the table.

“A bite of the cider donut before breakfast? My parents must really be scrambling here.”

Jameson happily dug into his feast of silver dollar pancakes and strawberries while I pretended my egg white omelet was just as good. It wasn’t, guys. Nothing is as good as syrupy pancakes. But alas, I’m trying to make sure my pregnancy weight gain stays on the healthy track *sigh*.

My two year-old looking like a five year-old somehow. How??

It was a close one, but we managed to have a somewhat relaxing breakfast in public, with a toddler. And no tech.

Just remind me to refill the busy bag next time.

“Why care?” Dealing with volunteering burnout

“Why do you do it if it brings you this much stress? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy it very much.”- A very valid question asked by my husband last night.

Last night I went on a bit of a venting spree to my husband about the state of the volunteer organization that I’m a part of. Specifically, how uninterested so many of our members have become and how hard it is to get people to sign up for events to help out in the community.

This is the third month in a row that I’ve organized a day to prepare a meal for women living in emergency shelters. And it is the second time in three months that we haven’t been able to fill the measly five spots required for volunteers.

I was complaining to my husband that nobody seems to care anymore. That people say they are excited to give back to the community, but when it’s time to show up, its just a few who are left to do double or triple the work when no one else shows up.

To be honest, I’m exhausted. And six months pregnant. And dealing with a number of other things in life that have been requiring a lot of my attention lately.

And to continue being honest, let’s be real: sometimes caring is exhausting.

But I’m starting to think that maybe it’s the way I care that’s the most draining. Maybe I care too much about the outcome. Or maybe I’m letting my passion for a cause cloud over the fact that my time and energy for said cause aren’t as robust as they were last season.

When my husband asked me why I’m still doing it when it doesn’t seem to be bringing me joy, it made me realize that he’s right. Well, partially (sorry, honey).

Helping out in my community brings me immense joy. But helping out at the same intensity that I was last year isn’t anymore. And there is the disconnect.

So I’m going to take some time and figure out how I want to use my free time in the season I’m in right now. More family time before the baby gets here is high on my list. As is editing my novel and setting up things at my job before I go on maternity leave.

I want volunteering to still be a part of my life in the coming months, but I want to do it the way I began doing it, and that is with an open heart.

Have you ever dealt with feelings of burnout as a volunteer? How did you handle it?

My toddler’s speech progress

I am writing this post with a happy heart. With speech sessions occurring 1-2 times a week, and lots of practice and repetition at home, Jameson’s speech is really blossoming.

Two months ago I had Jameson evaluated by the Birth to 3 services that CT offers. I had noticed that ever since his ear infections became chronic his speech development had almost completely stalled.

At two years old he was only saying about 30 words, but used babbling and pointing as his main form of communication.

Everyone around me was telling me to give him time. I lost count of how many people told me anecdotes of kids they knew who never spoke a word until 3 or 4, etc. Their intention was to make me feel better of course, but as a special educator who frequently worked with kids well out of toddlerhood who were nonverbal, my heart was still worried.

What if he never caught up with his peers? How would limited language affect his behavior? His emotions? His ability to learn and to be understood?

I spoke to a friend of mine who is an Occupational Therapist and doing that gave me the nudge I needed to make the call and get him evaluated. She assured me that the only negative that would come from an evaluation was a wasted hour if they decided his development was fine. And wouldn’t the peace of mind offered by the results be worth it in the end?

It was.

The evaluators came to our home and assessed Jameson’s skills through that play, observation, and a parent/caregiver questionnaire.

At the end of the assessment I was able to hear the results immediately. It was as I suspected: my sweet boy had a mild speech delay that was also effecting his ability to understand (receptive language).

The morning of his surgery to get tubes put in and adenoids removed. All went well, thankfully!

Cut to two months and a surgery to get ear tubes put in, adenoids removed, and countless speech sessions later. I’m so happy that I went with my gut and got to the bottom of Jameson’s speech delay.

Yesterday he said I love you for the first time.

He now says small phrases like we’re here and where’d they go on a daily basis.

He’s able to ask for help and name items he wants when given a choice of two.

Yes, my heart is singing today because I’m so happy for my little boy.

1,000 hour outside: progress update

Since January 1st, we have been on a mission to get to at least 500 hours of outside time by the end of this year. Sitting here at the tail-end of July, I am happy that 500 hours was our goal rather than the full 1,000.

Walking to the farmers market and getting some fresh blueberries to snack on. 30 minutes earned!

We finally cracked 100 hours at the beginning of this month. My husband laughed when I told him that and he said, that’s it? But I was and am very proud of the 109 hours Jameson has gotten so far this year.

I know it might not seem like a lot compared to the grand 1,000 hours goal, but I know we aren’t nearly done yet. This goal has really changed the way I plan our days now and I truly feel like Jameson has been benefitting from the time spent outdoors.

Having our meals outside. Another way we’ve been getting some more fresh air in.

We had a rough start to the challenge with pretty brutal winter temps and a fairly rainy spring. I know that doesn’t deter some families from heading into the great outdoors, but I’m just not there yet. Especially because Jameson’s speech is still developing and he isn’t able to tell me when he’s too cold or uncomfortable yet.

I’m pretty confident we will meet our mini goal of 500 hours outside this year, and I’ll be happy for that. And I think next year could be the year we tackle getting 1,000 hours outside, as we are working on building a house in upstate New York on 3.5 acres. What better motivation to step outside than having the space to run around and play in the grass?

Also, this mama can’t wait to have a nice cup of coffee on our own front porch.