When I became a mother, I never dreamed I would be splitting my parenting duties between 4 people. My ex and I divorced in 2010, and both of us pretty quickly fell in with our new life partners. So since the relative beginning, it has been me, my husband, my ex and his wife raising our kids.
Add to that, I married a man with his own ex. So we have my husband, me, his ex and her husband.
In the mix of all that, we have new babies being born from each household, and relationships that extend and influence the decisions being made in the other two households. Holidays, school breaks, weekends...they all have to balance the schedule of three relative households. It's exhausting.
What's great is that my kids are SO loved. They have the love of their Dad's family, their step-moms family, my family and their step-dad's family. Their family tree is broad and beautiful, and full of love.
I would be remiss not to mention they get like, quadruple the presents.
Their school functions and sports events all have a bleacher full of supporters. Their school conferences have four adults squatted on tiny little chairs oohing and ahhing over their progress.
What's hard about this, is there are 6 adults involved in the raising of these kids. Christmas presents are compared, vacations impact the schedules of everyone, rules and behaviors flow from one house to another and sometimes clash family cultures. We can't have our kids when we want them. We can't just do what we want with our kids when we want to. Relationships with ex's are curt at best, and pregnant with inexpressible frustration at it's worst. Realistically, our relationships with our ex's are strained and yet, we have to have a constructive relationship for the kids. It's hard.
Sometimes I feel like I'm only 50% a parent to my older kids because I only see them half the time. I feel guilty, and grieve the mundane events I'm missing not having them every night. I feel out of the loop with their homework, or what's happening at school because they've already moved on to new things to talk about. I feel like there are pieces of them that I don't know, and important little pieces I am missing out on not seeing them every day. I've calculated that I am missing 2,372 days as their parent. THAT'S SIX YEARS. Ugh, it's so crushing. But in other news, that's 45 weeks and if I spend a 2 week vacation with them every year for 22 years after high school, I'll be all caught up. You're welcome kids! But seriously, when you only have your kids 50% of the time, it makes all the little parenting slips and mistakes seem all the more agonizing. After a tense school day morning, I sometimes have to wait a long days before I can hug my babies and tell them I love them.
This was a vent post, I've started and stopped this post many times over the years. It's not anything negative about my ex, his wife, my husband's ex or her husband. We are all doing our best, and dealing with our own life in the midst of raising these kids in this dysfunctional village scenario. I don't have any advice or insight to offer, either. Co-parenting is hard.
The end.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
No Exit Here
I was raised as a cesarean baby. My mom had a cesarean, and my grandma had horrible stories of being left alone to labor in a white, sterile hospital room alone. I remember hearing stories about how my cousin looked like a bloody alien coming out (Hi Tori!). I was grossed out. I had no experience with a healthy, natural labor being the "natural" way.
I remember seeing my mom's cesarean scar on her mama belly growing up, and hearing stories about how the doctor lifted me out of her. There was no pain, just peaceful emergence into this world. It sounded lovely. I never questioned what I wanted when I grew up. I was going to have my babies cut out of me like my Mama did.
The gift of that mindset, is that I didn't mourn a birth experience after either my cesareans. The only thing that made me look into doing something different with my third is because I didn't want to schedule a cesarean, I wanted to go into labor and then have a cesarean. I stumbled upon the concept of "Gentle Cesarean", and then ultimately fell down the rabbit hole of VBAC and it was a strange realization when I allowed myself to wonder, "What if I could do that?"
Months into my third pregnancy, I remember looking down at my growing scar and idly wondering if a baby would come through there again. For the first time in my life, I had expectations about my birth. I worried how I would take it, if I ended up with another cesarean.
Of course, as the story goes, I've had two vaginal births since then. The first was scary, the second was wildly empowering. It was month's after my first VBA2C that I even started to really absorb the fact that I'd pushed a baby out of my vagina. It's hard for me to explain this, but I'd had a preconceived notion of women that push babies out, and it was something separate from me. It was like a complete shift in my identity that I was someone who pushed babies out, too.
Even with having achieved the goal of VBAC, I found that as I planned my next birth as unmedicated, I still had a deeply rooted insecurity over what my body could do. In my mind there were now three categories: women that had cesareans, women that had vaginal births with epidurals, and super-hero women that had natural births. Even with the strength I'd gained, I still found ways to tell myself I wasn't good enough.
It doesn't take anything away from mom's that have cesareans. I still believe those are some of the bravest women out there. They are willing to lay down and get their body cut open in order to protect their baby. Society really minimizes just what a crazy big deal that is.
It doesn't take away anything from a woman that chooses an epidural. I believe there is a place for epidurals. I also know that I didn't use one because I chose to, I used it because I was afraid not to.
I am five months postpartum for my unmedicated birth with Hazelanne, and I still have moments where I want to high-five myself. For me, the gift isn't that I had a baby come out of my vagina. On it's own, that's just natural. I think the gift in this was my experience in taking control and ownership of my body. In believing I could do something that I had never, ever, truly felt capable of doing - and then actually doing it. And God gave me my triumphs in small, manageable steps. I don't believe I would have had the courage to try for a vaginal birth after cesarean, if I hadn't had a concerns with my 2nd cesarean's timing. I don't think I would have had the courage to go for a natural birth, if I'd hadn't had a vaginal birth first to know what to expect. God, in all of His knowing glory gave me exactly what I needed, when I needed it, to bless me with the confidence of my capable body.
I stepped out of the shower the other day and casually caught my scar in the mirror. Without prompting, I thought to myself, "That's not an exit anymore." And it was so clear to me in that moment how far I'd come in my confidence as a woman, that it almost made me cry.
I'm hoping this doesn't sound anti-cesarean, or anti-epidural. It's not even pro-natural. What I'm for is letting yourself dream that you can do something you never thought possible, and trusting God to give you what you need, exactly when you need it.
I remember seeing my mom's cesarean scar on her mama belly growing up, and hearing stories about how the doctor lifted me out of her. There was no pain, just peaceful emergence into this world. It sounded lovely. I never questioned what I wanted when I grew up. I was going to have my babies cut out of me like my Mama did.
The gift of that mindset, is that I didn't mourn a birth experience after either my cesareans. The only thing that made me look into doing something different with my third is because I didn't want to schedule a cesarean, I wanted to go into labor and then have a cesarean. I stumbled upon the concept of "Gentle Cesarean", and then ultimately fell down the rabbit hole of VBAC and it was a strange realization when I allowed myself to wonder, "What if I could do that?"
Months into my third pregnancy, I remember looking down at my growing scar and idly wondering if a baby would come through there again. For the first time in my life, I had expectations about my birth. I worried how I would take it, if I ended up with another cesarean.
Of course, as the story goes, I've had two vaginal births since then. The first was scary, the second was wildly empowering. It was month's after my first VBA2C that I even started to really absorb the fact that I'd pushed a baby out of my vagina. It's hard for me to explain this, but I'd had a preconceived notion of women that push babies out, and it was something separate from me. It was like a complete shift in my identity that I was someone who pushed babies out, too.
Even with having achieved the goal of VBAC, I found that as I planned my next birth as unmedicated, I still had a deeply rooted insecurity over what my body could do. In my mind there were now three categories: women that had cesareans, women that had vaginal births with epidurals, and super-hero women that had natural births. Even with the strength I'd gained, I still found ways to tell myself I wasn't good enough.
It doesn't take anything away from mom's that have cesareans. I still believe those are some of the bravest women out there. They are willing to lay down and get their body cut open in order to protect their baby. Society really minimizes just what a crazy big deal that is.
It doesn't take away anything from a woman that chooses an epidural. I believe there is a place for epidurals. I also know that I didn't use one because I chose to, I used it because I was afraid not to.
I am five months postpartum for my unmedicated birth with Hazelanne, and I still have moments where I want to high-five myself. For me, the gift isn't that I had a baby come out of my vagina. On it's own, that's just natural. I think the gift in this was my experience in taking control and ownership of my body. In believing I could do something that I had never, ever, truly felt capable of doing - and then actually doing it. And God gave me my triumphs in small, manageable steps. I don't believe I would have had the courage to try for a vaginal birth after cesarean, if I hadn't had a concerns with my 2nd cesarean's timing. I don't think I would have had the courage to go for a natural birth, if I'd hadn't had a vaginal birth first to know what to expect. God, in all of His knowing glory gave me exactly what I needed, when I needed it, to bless me with the confidence of my capable body.
I stepped out of the shower the other day and casually caught my scar in the mirror. Without prompting, I thought to myself, "That's not an exit anymore." And it was so clear to me in that moment how far I'd come in my confidence as a woman, that it almost made me cry.
I'm hoping this doesn't sound anti-cesarean, or anti-epidural. It's not even pro-natural. What I'm for is letting yourself dream that you can do something you never thought possible, and trusting God to give you what you need, exactly when you need it.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Snapshot of a Day
My life is BUSY. It's chaotic. It's full of priorities that have to be constantly re-evaluated to address what's on "fire" at the moment. Sometimes I tell the kids to go to their rooms, just so I can have a moment of personal physical space. I'll tell them they can't read a book with me because I just need to be quiet for a few minutes. I'll take an extra long shower because sometimes it's the only free moment I have where someone isn't touching me. I'll tell them they can't help me do something, because I know it'll take too long with their help. I put Little Einstein's on for Milo more than I should, because it's the only thing that keeps him still for 20 minutes. I watch the clock, begging time to speed up before bed time so the house is quiet again.
But whenever I start to get stressed, or overwhelmed I am almost immediately struck by the thought, "These are the best days of your life." I know that the feeling of being over-touched, and when I'm so tired of people saying, "Mom"... that I will miss these things one day. I will sit and fret by the phone, wishing my children would call me and need me for something. I will crave their unrelenting affection when they are teenagers and pushing me away. I will be bored sitting in a quiet, clean house with no one to clean up after. My body will ache for the weight of children on it. I loved being a wild 20-something, drinking and dancing with girlfriends all night. I will LOVE being in the post-children phase with my husband, where we can spend all of our days and nights together like best friends. But I know that when I am in my final moments in life, it will be these years of young children that I find joy in. It's a fleeting time that comes and goes, and you can never get it back. I will have my sweet husband by my side, hopefully until the day I die, and we can keep making new memories and doing life together up until our last breath. But I only have my children with me for such a small time, and every day they get older and need me in different ways.
So for my own sake, more than anyone else's, I wanted to capture a day in the life of my family right now. With 5 kids, from a baby to a 13 year old.
It's hard to find a good time to start recounting my day, because it never really ends or begins. I spend my nights co-sleeping with Hazelanne, who is 4 months, nursing, and still waking up every 2-3 hours. I feel like I haven't had REM sleep in months. But we'll start around 6AM, when after a night full of nursing Hazel we hear a loud call from Milo's room.
"MOMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAA! DAAAAAAAAAAAA-YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He doesn't say anything else, really, just calls loudly for us at the top of his lungs until one of us rolls out of bed. Usually my sweet husband does this, because I have just fallen back asleep with Hazel. Cameron takes a pull from his vaporizer by the bed, checks his phone and then rolls out of bed. I hear him tap on Milo's door, which is their secret code for it being Daddy at the door. Milo screams and yells and "DAYEEE!!" I hear Milo jabbering enthusiastically while Cameron changes his diaper. He's usually singing something loudly like the Happy Birthday song, or the ABCs.
Whichever one of us gets up with Milo, the next step is always the same. Get Milo milk, and plop him in front of Little Einstein's on the couch, so that we can make coffee and try to wake up for our day.
On the days that our big kids are with us, Andy will get up with Milo. We hear Milo wake up with , "ANNNN-DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" and find Andy and Milo cuddled under the blanket watching cartoons when we wake up.
Elyse and Kass are the last ones up, usually. Both girls will always try to bring out their comforter and pillows to the couch to "wake up" while watching cartoons. Cameron and I are constantly telling them to take their pillows/blankets back to their room.
Mornings before school are the most hectic. Dirty kids that skipped showers the night before have to shower. I am reminding everyone to brush their teeth - EVERY DAY. Girls are trying on 2-3 outfits, and being told that things are too tight or too short or too cold or too hot. Kids can't find shoes. Kids don't have the clothes they need for P.E., or "Wacky Wednesday", or class presentations. The girls both have very specific ideas on how they want their hair, but don't know how to do it yet so I spend a good chunk of my morning on the couch, with a girl cross-legged in front of me, while I braid her hair. Andy does his own hair, but often forgets a tuft of hair in the back so I have to help him wet his whole head, and then brush it down. His hair is thick and grows fast, so he seems to always look shaggy. I have to remind Andy not to wear the same jeans every day, because he just does not care.
We keep easy things around the house for breakfast because NO ONE has time to make breakfast in this kind of morning chaos. Our fridge is always stacked with blueberry waffles from Trader Joe's. The kids will make a waffle for Milo and put him in his high chair while they eat if Cam and I are getting ready. Which is probably a mixture of them being cool, responsible kids and them wanting Milo to stop shouting for a bite of their food if they don't give him his own. All the kids are endlessly patient with Milo, as he is endlessly obsessed with them. He is always saying, "Uppa, uppa" or wanting them to chase him, or wanting a bite/drink of whatever they have, wanting to take over the TV when they are watching it. In his world, everyone loves him and shows him kindness. His is lucky and we are lucky to have kids that love each other, and I promise to you I see that and value it on a daily basis.
The big kids are pretty autonomous so beyond reminding them to do everything, they can actually do it themselves. By around 7:30AM, everyone is dressed, fed, hair-brushed, teeth-brushed and getting their shoes on. At this time, we get wiped down from breakfast and dressed. I have usually been up and fed Hazel somewhere around this time, and am getting her dressed. We ask the big kids to watch the little kids for 15 quick minutes so Cameron and I can finally get dressed and ready to leave. By 8AM, everyone is ready to go in their 5 different directions all over the valley. Kass goes to school in Anthem, Elyse and Andy go to school in North Phoenix, Cam goes to work in Scottsdale, the babies go to daycare near our house and I go to work in downtown Phoenix.
Over a page of text so far, and I'm only to 9AM. No shit.
After school, it's a flurry of homework, "OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO FILTHY AND CAN'T PLAY UNTIL YOU CLEAN", taking showers, making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, putting away laundry, doing devotionals, listening to stories from school, and trying to spend quality time together as a family. We won't even mention the several times a month that I have ICAN or Cam has a night work function. Pepper that with about 750 questions that start with "Mom?", 4-5 dirty diapers, and at least one person crying because they are mad at someone else. At one point, Cam usually takes a shower with Milo, which is now the easiest/fastest way to keep him clean since he is ALWAYS dirty.
Hazel goes down first. After being passed around arms and bouncey seats in between nursing, she gets sleepy around 6:30PM. If I'm lucky, we can eat after this so that I don't have to hold her while I eating. Milo goes to sleep next. He still takes a bottle (shameeeee I know), and likes to cuddle before bed. When it's time to go, he says "Night night!" to everyone in the house. Once we are in his room, we sing "I love you goodnight", which is those words sang to the tune of "Happy Birthday to You". In the last several months we have added several stanzas, and now the song has about 10 verses. The first is the whole song sang to I love you goodnight. Then we sing, "Mama" to the same tune, then Dada, Mimi, Papa, Gra-ma, Kass, Elyse, Andy, Cat ("meow"), Puppy ("woof"), and sometimes inanimate objects like "Rocket" and "Milk" get their own stanzas. It takes about 10 minutes but then he willingly lays down and shouts, "Night-night! You tooooo (which means I love you too)".
Around 8:30, we get everyone in bed to read. We have learned to start this at 8:20 because there will always be a cascade of having to use the bathroom, emergency homework they forgot, needing water, starving for more food, and having a serious problem that they need to talk to a parent about IMMEDIATELY. More teeth have been pulled during this 10 minutes than you would even believe.
Most weekends, the big kids ask to sleep together. They will stay up until 11 or so watching movies, and will fall asleep all cuddled up with their 8000 blankets and pillows. On week nights, everyone still wants to be tucked in. The girls like to gab when we go in there and ALWAYS after we say, "Okay, goodnight, go to sleep" will say, "Mom??" or "Dad??" There is literally a last-minute question or statement every single night after we say goodnight. And it's always like, "Can we go to the park this weekend?" or "I want a Barbie for my birthday" or "Do you think pink and purple go together?"
Andy is usually sleeping when I get in there, but he always wants the closet door shut. When he's awake, I'll tell him I love him, he'll say he loves me more, I'll say "I love you bigger because I'm bigger and I've known you longer", and he says, "Impossible." I shut the door and tell him to look at his Spiderman light on the ceiling because he's kind of afraid of the dark. Sometimes I hear Milo try and talk to him at night (they share a room). Milo will whisper, "Andddddd-eeeeee" and Andy whispers, "Go to bed Milo, night night. Lay down, Milo. Quiet." Always patient.
Cam and I curl up at this point, and will try to stay up at least an hour or so after bedtime. Sometimes we don't make it. Most of the time we are quiet, but still like to be in the same room. We'll stay up until Hazelanne starts crying because she's hungry again (every 2-3 hours, remember?). Then we climb into bed, Cam gets me water for when I nurse at night, and we cover up, butt to butt, and whisper I love you after several minutes of zoning out.
Then begins my 2nd shift of parenting which is feeding Hazelanne all night. CAN'T WAIT for this period to be over, too, but again wonder if I'll miss it when she doesn't need me so much.
So there it is. Probably not very interesting for those on the outside, but it's my full and lovely life, every single day. And as ridiculous and crazy busy it is, it is soooooo joyful, really.
I wouldn't change a thing.
But whenever I start to get stressed, or overwhelmed I am almost immediately struck by the thought, "These are the best days of your life." I know that the feeling of being over-touched, and when I'm so tired of people saying, "Mom"... that I will miss these things one day. I will sit and fret by the phone, wishing my children would call me and need me for something. I will crave their unrelenting affection when they are teenagers and pushing me away. I will be bored sitting in a quiet, clean house with no one to clean up after. My body will ache for the weight of children on it. I loved being a wild 20-something, drinking and dancing with girlfriends all night. I will LOVE being in the post-children phase with my husband, where we can spend all of our days and nights together like best friends. But I know that when I am in my final moments in life, it will be these years of young children that I find joy in. It's a fleeting time that comes and goes, and you can never get it back. I will have my sweet husband by my side, hopefully until the day I die, and we can keep making new memories and doing life together up until our last breath. But I only have my children with me for such a small time, and every day they get older and need me in different ways.
So for my own sake, more than anyone else's, I wanted to capture a day in the life of my family right now. With 5 kids, from a baby to a 13 year old.
It's hard to find a good time to start recounting my day, because it never really ends or begins. I spend my nights co-sleeping with Hazelanne, who is 4 months, nursing, and still waking up every 2-3 hours. I feel like I haven't had REM sleep in months. But we'll start around 6AM, when after a night full of nursing Hazel we hear a loud call from Milo's room.
"MOMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAA! DAAAAAAAAAAAA-YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He doesn't say anything else, really, just calls loudly for us at the top of his lungs until one of us rolls out of bed. Usually my sweet husband does this, because I have just fallen back asleep with Hazel. Cameron takes a pull from his vaporizer by the bed, checks his phone and then rolls out of bed. I hear him tap on Milo's door, which is their secret code for it being Daddy at the door. Milo screams and yells and "DAYEEE!!" I hear Milo jabbering enthusiastically while Cameron changes his diaper. He's usually singing something loudly like the Happy Birthday song, or the ABCs.
Whichever one of us gets up with Milo, the next step is always the same. Get Milo milk, and plop him in front of Little Einstein's on the couch, so that we can make coffee and try to wake up for our day.
On the days that our big kids are with us, Andy will get up with Milo. We hear Milo wake up with , "ANNNN-DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" and find Andy and Milo cuddled under the blanket watching cartoons when we wake up.
Elyse and Kass are the last ones up, usually. Both girls will always try to bring out their comforter and pillows to the couch to "wake up" while watching cartoons. Cameron and I are constantly telling them to take their pillows/blankets back to their room.
Mornings before school are the most hectic. Dirty kids that skipped showers the night before have to shower. I am reminding everyone to brush their teeth - EVERY DAY. Girls are trying on 2-3 outfits, and being told that things are too tight or too short or too cold or too hot. Kids can't find shoes. Kids don't have the clothes they need for P.E., or "Wacky Wednesday", or class presentations. The girls both have very specific ideas on how they want their hair, but don't know how to do it yet so I spend a good chunk of my morning on the couch, with a girl cross-legged in front of me, while I braid her hair. Andy does his own hair, but often forgets a tuft of hair in the back so I have to help him wet his whole head, and then brush it down. His hair is thick and grows fast, so he seems to always look shaggy. I have to remind Andy not to wear the same jeans every day, because he just does not care.
We keep easy things around the house for breakfast because NO ONE has time to make breakfast in this kind of morning chaos. Our fridge is always stacked with blueberry waffles from Trader Joe's. The kids will make a waffle for Milo and put him in his high chair while they eat if Cam and I are getting ready. Which is probably a mixture of them being cool, responsible kids and them wanting Milo to stop shouting for a bite of their food if they don't give him his own. All the kids are endlessly patient with Milo, as he is endlessly obsessed with them. He is always saying, "Uppa, uppa" or wanting them to chase him, or wanting a bite/drink of whatever they have, wanting to take over the TV when they are watching it. In his world, everyone loves him and shows him kindness. His is lucky and we are lucky to have kids that love each other, and I promise to you I see that and value it on a daily basis.
The big kids are pretty autonomous so beyond reminding them to do everything, they can actually do it themselves. By around 7:30AM, everyone is dressed, fed, hair-brushed, teeth-brushed and getting their shoes on. At this time, we get wiped down from breakfast and dressed. I have usually been up and fed Hazel somewhere around this time, and am getting her dressed. We ask the big kids to watch the little kids for 15 quick minutes so Cameron and I can finally get dressed and ready to leave. By 8AM, everyone is ready to go in their 5 different directions all over the valley. Kass goes to school in Anthem, Elyse and Andy go to school in North Phoenix, Cam goes to work in Scottsdale, the babies go to daycare near our house and I go to work in downtown Phoenix.
Over a page of text so far, and I'm only to 9AM. No shit.
After school, it's a flurry of homework, "OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO FILTHY AND CAN'T PLAY UNTIL YOU CLEAN", taking showers, making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, putting away laundry, doing devotionals, listening to stories from school, and trying to spend quality time together as a family. We won't even mention the several times a month that I have ICAN or Cam has a night work function. Pepper that with about 750 questions that start with "Mom?", 4-5 dirty diapers, and at least one person crying because they are mad at someone else. At one point, Cam usually takes a shower with Milo, which is now the easiest/fastest way to keep him clean since he is ALWAYS dirty.
Hazel goes down first. After being passed around arms and bouncey seats in between nursing, she gets sleepy around 6:30PM. If I'm lucky, we can eat after this so that I don't have to hold her while I eating. Milo goes to sleep next. He still takes a bottle (shameeeee I know), and likes to cuddle before bed. When it's time to go, he says "Night night!" to everyone in the house. Once we are in his room, we sing "I love you goodnight", which is those words sang to the tune of "Happy Birthday to You". In the last several months we have added several stanzas, and now the song has about 10 verses. The first is the whole song sang to I love you goodnight. Then we sing, "Mama" to the same tune, then Dada, Mimi, Papa, Gra-ma, Kass, Elyse, Andy, Cat ("meow"), Puppy ("woof"), and sometimes inanimate objects like "Rocket" and "Milk" get their own stanzas. It takes about 10 minutes but then he willingly lays down and shouts, "Night-night! You tooooo (which means I love you too)".
Around 8:30, we get everyone in bed to read. We have learned to start this at 8:20 because there will always be a cascade of having to use the bathroom, emergency homework they forgot, needing water, starving for more food, and having a serious problem that they need to talk to a parent about IMMEDIATELY. More teeth have been pulled during this 10 minutes than you would even believe.
Most weekends, the big kids ask to sleep together. They will stay up until 11 or so watching movies, and will fall asleep all cuddled up with their 8000 blankets and pillows. On week nights, everyone still wants to be tucked in. The girls like to gab when we go in there and ALWAYS after we say, "Okay, goodnight, go to sleep" will say, "Mom??" or "Dad??" There is literally a last-minute question or statement every single night after we say goodnight. And it's always like, "Can we go to the park this weekend?" or "I want a Barbie for my birthday" or "Do you think pink and purple go together?"
Andy is usually sleeping when I get in there, but he always wants the closet door shut. When he's awake, I'll tell him I love him, he'll say he loves me more, I'll say "I love you bigger because I'm bigger and I've known you longer", and he says, "Impossible." I shut the door and tell him to look at his Spiderman light on the ceiling because he's kind of afraid of the dark. Sometimes I hear Milo try and talk to him at night (they share a room). Milo will whisper, "Andddddd-eeeeee" and Andy whispers, "Go to bed Milo, night night. Lay down, Milo. Quiet." Always patient.
Cam and I curl up at this point, and will try to stay up at least an hour or so after bedtime. Sometimes we don't make it. Most of the time we are quiet, but still like to be in the same room. We'll stay up until Hazelanne starts crying because she's hungry again (every 2-3 hours, remember?). Then we climb into bed, Cam gets me water for when I nurse at night, and we cover up, butt to butt, and whisper I love you after several minutes of zoning out.
Then begins my 2nd shift of parenting which is feeding Hazelanne all night. CAN'T WAIT for this period to be over, too, but again wonder if I'll miss it when she doesn't need me so much.
So there it is. Probably not very interesting for those on the outside, but it's my full and lovely life, every single day. And as ridiculous and crazy busy it is, it is soooooo joyful, really.
I wouldn't change a thing.
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