The New Man in My Life...

He's short and chubby. He sports a mean fauxhawk. He's controlling and demanding, but he makes up for it with big, wet toothless kisses and cozy cuddles. He can be a little embarrasing in public, but then again so can I.

Easy there, folks. This is a G-rated blog (kinda). I am talking about my squishy, cuddly, drooly, little baby boy -  Patrick Daniel. He is seven and a half months old now. I can hardly believe it. Time always flies, but I feel like things are moving especially fast with him. Maybe it's because most days I barely have a second to catch my breath. So those rare days when I do have a free second and I actually stop to look at him...he is getting so freakin' big!!

I cannot even explain how much I love this kid. I actually have to restrain myself from biting his little face. Yes, really.

I feel like I am finally starting to understand Patrick. I do think it took me a little longer to get acquainted with all of his likes, wants and needs. I would say we weren't really on the same wavelength until he was about six months old. I know all kids are different, and believe me...I have heard it. "Don't expect the same baby twice." Guess I had to experience it for myself to actually understand. Because never were two babies as different as Patrick and Grace.

Grace was a pretty mellow baby, but she was intense and serious. It took a lot to get a laugh out of her. She didn't ever really have stranger anxiety. She slept through the night at 8 weeks old.

Now scratch that, reverse it...and you have Patrick.

He is the happiest little guy you will ever meet. He is full of giggles and grins. As far as the stranger anxiety, it is a new experience, indeed. He needs to always have me in his sights. He will cry if I put him down and walk out of the room. And when other people hold him, he will only tolerate it if he can visualize me. Really, kid...where do you think I am going? Although, I will admit, I kind of like that he needs me the way he does. It's sweet (and totally exhausting all at the same time). 

Sleeping...sleeping? What's that? OK...I guess it is not that bad. He probably sleeps through the night once a week. The other nights are a total crap shoot. You might be up once, you might be up four times. Thank God he is cute.

So far, here is what I have figured out about my little man:

Likes
 - His sister...he loves that girl. All she has to do is walk in the room and he squeals. She is totally a rock star in Patrick's world.
 - The Fresh Beat Band. If you don't know who they are, congratulations. If you do, I sympathize.
 - Bananas
 - Peek-a-boo
 - His paci and his lovey blanket (named Raffi, cuz he's a giraffe...cute, right?). In this way he IS like his sister.
 - The baby carrier. That kid would spend 24 hours a day attached to my person. Best money I ever spent.
 - Cuddles (lots and lots)
 - Biting things.


DISlikes
 - Loud noises...if you ever want to see the saddest lil' boo-boo face ever...just clap really loud around Patrick.
 - Being left alone. How dare I try to step away from him to pee...the nerve!
 - Peaches
 - His car seat (although he is getting much better about this one). The first three months of his life he strongly protested car rides. S-T-R-O-N-G-L-Y


So, we are still figuring each other out. And I suspect I will be discovering new things about my little man each day. And each day I will try to remind myself not to bite him (even though he is so freakin' edible)

Grace-isms (Part 2)

Back by popular demand...here are some more "Grace-isms". Yes, this is my life, you guys.

 - During a conversation with Pat about what kind of bugs she enjoys...
Pat - "Grace, do you like bugs?"
Grace - "Ummm, sometimes."
Pat - "What kind of bugs do you like?"
Grace - "Well, I got no beef wit ladybugs."


 - Grace likes music, which makes me so happy. And she certainly has her preferences already. She tells me from the back seat of the car "I only like girl songs, Mama." And when a song comes on that she does like, she hollers "Mama, dis is my jam!!" as she bops along to the music with her eyes closed like Ray Charles.


 - In the mornings, Grace has gotten into the habit of asking "How you feewin today, mama?" And if I am looking a little disheveled (which, let's face it, is most mornings), she will ever so lovingly tell me "You look a wittle tired". She does wonders for the self esteem.


 - She is my mini-me. I get it. But sometimes it is kinda scary to see yourself mirrored in a little person. She definitely throws out some crazy sayings, and when I find myself asking...where the hell did she hear that???...oh yeah, it was me. And poor Patrick usually bears the brunt of it. Point in case: "Patwick, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I can't hear my show!" Luckily, the kid is happy to receive any attention from her and just laughs.


 - Lately, we have been experimenting with what words are, and are not appropriate to say. "Shit" being one that is most definitly INappropriate. When she was told this was a bad word, she totally outsmarted me and figured out a way to get away with it. "Mama, we never say shit, right. Shit is a bad word. You should never say shit. Patrick, did you know shit was a bad word. It's naughty, naughty, naughty. Mama, did you know I heard Auntie Beth say shit once. We should tell her it's a bad bad bad word." To cap off her speech and really drive the point home she sings a little tune about it. "Shit is a bad word, a bad word, we never say shit, no we never say shit."


 - Instead of saying "no" in response to something, she has made a habit of responding "not actually".


 - Now that she is potty trained, the amount of potty talk has really become too much. I will leave you with one golden highlight. And for those of you who are offended, I apologize. But you can't even argue with the creativity:

            "Mama, today I pooped and it looked like a fat carrot."

It Was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times...

Pat looked at me the other night and asked me "How long can we keep up this pace?.

 I was in the middle of cleaning up dinner and keeping Grace entertained. Pat was feeding Patrick his nighttime bottle after scarfing down his own dinner. I was running on a couple of hours of sleep after working the overnight shift the night before. It was a rare night that Pat was actually even home. His travel schedule has been so crazy, it feels like he is gone more than he is home. And I am trying to fit in three shifts at work all around the kid's and my husband's schedule. Oh yeah...and sleep for a few seconds here and there.

Was it Sir Paul McCartney that said "All you need is love."? Awwww...how sweet Paul. But let's all remember you are a freaking bazillionaire. Now here's a big can of shut the hell up. Some of us have to work to make a living. Work hard, and make sacrifices.

So, how long can we keep this pace up...who knows? But we will as long as we have to. I have gotten used to the fact that I am going to be chronically enhausted for the forseeable future. I look around at my shit-pit of a house that is cluttered with toys and various other baby crap, the schedule I keep, the bills that pile up and I'll admit it..I totally throw myself a pity party now and then.

Then I have a day like I had yesterday. A day where both of my beautiful babies woke up smiling and happy. There was minimal whining, lots of hugs and kisses and bellows of laughter. Some days, the pieces all just come together. I didn't try to clean everything in my house like a madwoman. I didn't check my email or even go on Facebook (gasp!). I played with my kids. We went to Grace's art class, had lunch with some friends at McDonalds (fancy, I know). And then Grace, Patrick and I all piled into the big bed and napped, all snuggled together. Patrick and Gracie fell asleep holding hands. It brought tears to my eyes.

P.S. - I know the whole cute hand holding thing likely started off as Grace fending off Patrick's swats to her face, but it's the end result that counts, right?

I laid there staring at my two babies who are growing so damn fast. Grace is such a little lady. She is potty trained now, her favorite things to play with are no longer Sesame Street plush toys, but Barbie dolls, and she has all but given up her pacifier (almost). Patrick gets longer and chubbier everyday! He is starting to say "Dada" and "Baba". He is sitting up and eating food and I see his babyhood slipping out of my grasp too. I know it goes all too fast.

I spend my days running in circles, treading water and barely scraping by.

Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Sears Fiasco

So I am a little late in posting about this. Frankly, I am pretty sure I am suffering from some sort of post-tramautic stress disorder from it and it was too painful and fresh to write about. But, now...I am ready...deep breaths, deep breaths...

I am pretty sure that my kids and I are permanently banned from Sears Portrait Studio for life. After the scene we caused, our picture must be hanging in some temper tantrum hall of fame or something. So here's how it all went down...

I love sending out Christmas cards. I love sending out picture updates of my kids. I am a proud mama. I decided this year to go all out. Get a professional picture taken of the kids to put on the card. I bought new outfits, scheduled the appointment at the perfect time (when I knew the kids would be happy and fed and not tired), and pictured the perfect Christmas card in my head. It would be magical...

So as you can suspect...it did NOT go that way.

I got the kids all dolled up in the cutest matching outfits you have ever seen. Fed them a nutritious breakfast, packed the Mary Poppins diaper bag with snacks, drinks, bottles, diapers, wipes, toys and a wardrobe change for the kids. We headed out to the mall and everyone was happy. We met my grandmother at the mall ("Nana Babs" as we call her). She agreed to come help me. Little did she know she was about to be in for the experience of a lifetime.

We walk into Sears. The photographer seemed nice enough. Grace loves attention, so I figured she would eat this up. We walked into the room. It was bright, small and at least 150 degrees. Grace looks at me. "I'm not goin in dere!"

And she stuck to her guns, that girl. I begged, I pleaded, I bribed. I will buy you candy, take you to the Disney store, buy you a freaking pony!! We did get her to sit for a few shots. Although, she wouldn't smile. And then when she smiled, Patrick wouldn't be smiling. The photographer tried to prop Patrick up against her. She moved away so he fell to the ground and squealed "He's TOUCHING me! Don't touch me, Patwick!!" Keep in mind, I am squatting on the floor, under a sheet, holding Patrick in the sitting position. I am sweating and on the verge of tears. I kept hissing through gritted teeth "Grace, cooperate. Sit still. SMILE goddamnit". Nana Babs stared in horror. The pinnacle moment was when Grace slapped the hand of the photographer away from her and yelled "I said don't touch me!!!" Seriously...I couldn't make this up. MORTIFYING!!!

OK, so here is where I probably could have made a better, more mature decision. After the torturous task of getting, like 2 decent shots in their outfits, I decide I want to change them into their Christmas jammies for a Christmas pic. I was there...I had already been through all this...might as well get what I came for. I was not going to lose this battle. So I took the two kids into the waiting room and wrestled pajamas on them. Nana Babs and the photographer both looked at me with a little fear in their eyes. This whole time I had not lost my cool. I never yelled. In fact, I was eerily quiet. I knew if I talked I was going to absolutely lose my shit. We had to keep some shred of dignity, right?

The photo shoot was over. I threw the kids into the carriage and booked it out of the store. Grace says..."Whew! Dat was ridiculous! Wet's go get some yunch." Amen, sister...amen.

Anyway, we got the Christmas shot and the Christmas card came out just as I had imagined. But not without a few battle scars. So if you got a Christmas card from the Bunkers this year, know that my blood, sweat and tears went into that bitch...literally.

The Old Days

Mommy lesson #3 - you will miss your husband (or significant other, to be politically correct)

The first night we were home with Grace, I remember looking across the room at Pat and bursting into tears. I thought to myself  "it is never going to be just the two of us ever again". Don't get me wrong. I was so happy to be a mommy. I loved that little girl more than life itself. But my world was rocked. Everything was different and it would never be the same. That's one hell of a pill to swallow.

So as happy as you are, you most definitely go through a little mourning period. You have to mourn the loss of your kidless self, the loss of the relationship you once knew, and the loss of sleeping peacefully through the night. OK, that last one is a little shallow...but screw that! I miss my sleep.

On the bright side, you do realize a whole new level to your relationship. Between the exhaustion, hormones and crying infant I think it is safe to say that the first few weeks of having a newborn are a trying time in your marriage. But you get through it, you make it to the other side. You gain patience. You enjoy the adult company. You learn to appreciate each other. And you become a team. It was after having my kids I realized that not only did I have a husband, I had a partner. Child rearing had become our business and we were in serious negotiations.

However, there are still nights that I sit across the room from him, holding crying babies, trying to wind down from the day and just stare at him. I miss him. I miss who we used to be.

But then I think about how far we've come. I think about the man he has become. How his daughter melts him and how he is so in love with his son. He loves us unconditionally. I mean, Christ, the man has seen me naked, strapped to a table and sliced open to birth a child...and he still loves me. So I guess that old adage is true...one door closes, another opens. Relationships change.

And in time...those kids will grow up and leave us (God willing). And we will have each other again. Until then, we will keep having conversations over screaming kids, cross paths during our morning craziness, and savor our very rare date night.

Grace-isms

Grace is one of the funniest people I know. The things that come out of that kid's mouth are awe inspiring. She is a 60 year old woman trapped in a three year old body. She's an old soul, I do believe.  There are really too many funny Grace-isms to go through right now, so I will try to periodically update this. Here are a few for now...enjoy:

 - She talks to her brother like I do..."Hey little guy! How you doing, buddy? Who's my good boy?" (in a high pitched sing song voice)

 - "That makes me kinda nervous"

 - "This is unbeweevable!"

 - Pat is running around trying to find his misplaced keys. "Well, Daddy, they didn't just get up and walk away."

 - Grace: "Mama, I love you. You will be my wife". Me: "What does that mean, Grace?" Grace: "It means we love each other and dance together."

 - "Mama, you had me so worried!" - she told me this when she couldn't find me for five minutes. Yeah, I was in the basement doing laundry.

 - "Let's go to the jungle" - this is in reference to the zoo.

Don't worry folks...there will be much more to come! The Grace-isms are endless.

Circle of Friends

Mommy lesson #2 - get a posse. You need people to have your back.

Grace was born in the cold, dark month of December. The days were short, the nights were long and the weather was typical New England - cold and snowy. I was hormonal, tired and lonely. I know...how can you possible be lonely when you are never actually alone. It is crazy but SO true. Being a new mother is incredibly lonely. It is you and a little butterball who yells at you (a lot) and demands your undivided attention.

I heard about these "new moms groups" that were really popular. I SOOOO didn't need that! I was young, hip and I had plenty of friends. I thought, who needs to join a group to make friends?

Oh yeah...this girl right here does.

So I was pretty crazy after I had Grace. Hormones were raging and tears were flowing. My doctor suggested I try a new moms group to have people to talk to. I was hesistant. I couldn't do ANYTHING without bursting into tears. Did I really want to get in front of a group of women I didn't know and lose my shit? Well, no...but I am pretty sure at this point, my husband was going to pack my bags and send me to the looney bin, so I had to give it a try.

The group met in the basement of a health club. I walked through a GYM, with fit and healthy and beautiful people. I was lugging a car seat with a newborn baby, sporting dirty hair, a flabby belly and a puke stained shirt. Yeah...this wasn't going well so far. I walked in to find a circle of women sitting on the floor with their infants.

I guess the best way to decribe it is this: picture an AA meeting. But instead of having an alcohol problem, you have a baby problem. "Hi, my name is Jill and I have a six week old." When it was my turn to talk, I was asked "Anything you want to talk about or ask, Jill?"

"Ummm, yeah....how the hell do you all take a shower???"

And then I heard the most brilliant thing that has ever come out of another human being's mouth...

"Just bring the bouncy seat into the bathroom. The warm room, the sound of the water and your voice will keep her calm."

I am a college educated woman...you mean to tell me I had to join a freakin' club to figure this out...but that is the beauty of it. The women there understand you are temporarily brain dead...and they are here to help. And they don't jusdge your puke stained shirt or greasy hair (well outwardly, anyway).

There was talking, laughing, crying. We chatted and fed our babies, drank coffee and found a refuge. Other people felt the same way I did...and actually had logical ideas. Child rearing, and keeping your sanity was actually a possibility. Glimmers of hope shone. Hallelujah!

I am still friends with all these women. Our children (who are now 2 and 3) still play together, and we still bounce ideas off each other. And it is totally the best place to bitch about how hard your week has been, or how your kid is driving you crazy. Misery most certainly does love company!
Oh...and it makes the playground SO much more tolerable when you have an adult to talk to!