Sunday morning/Monday evening

Let it be known that the rule of law in the Ochoa household is the later the boys stay up and the busier they are before bedtime, the EARLIER they will wake in the morning. Unbelievable. Peter came down at 12:45? Not sure. I didn't really lay down after that. I was trying to give him a drink which he rejected over and over and we both passed out with the effort of resisting each other-Peter laying on my arm splayed to my side, me propped up on pillows I wish I had moved before resting my head. My neck is killing me this morning. Then, at dawn, about 6am, Benjamin came bounding down with all his bounding energy and Peter and I, bleary-eyed and groggy from being woken from that deep morning sleep, had no choice but to become conscious or risk injury from the pointed affections of my 2 year old bulldozer. Benjamin gives kisses and then he will press his head against your head and apply pressure. I think he wants to see how hard he can push before you cry out in pain. Then he lays down perpendicular to his intended target and straightens his legs, stretching his toes so his legs are as long as possible. I dont know if his intent is to move the person he's pushing against or see if he can insert his toes into their stomach.

professional rascal. works for smoothies, goldfish, and crackers of any kind.

Ah, well. Such is life with a toddler. We've had an idyllic couple of days. The weather, late afternoon winds notwithstanding, has been perfect. This morning, when I began my ritual of sipping my coffee in the sun after watering the daisies, wildflowers and lavender plants, Benjamin came up to me and said 'Ben chair, mommy.' He pulled on my hand, trying to get me out of 'his' chair. I replied, 'no, there's Ben's chair', and I pointed to a chair in the middle of the lawn, left there the day before. It was about 3 feet away from mine. He climbed up and settled himself in with a butt wiggle. Then he sat forward put his hands on the armrests, and started talking to me. At first I couldn't understand a word he said, aside from some names. But the more I really listened, the more I discerned different words- 'going', 'school', and 'not yet' among them. Shocked my shorts off. I just stared at him in wonder, my brilliant child, as he chattered away. I asked him questions when the opportune pauses occurred. I have no idea if I was on-topic or not, but he seemed to find my responses appropriate.

Now, Benjamin talks all the time. He talks to me all the time, he talks to the tv, and he talks to his dad and brother, anyone who will listen (or look like they're listening). What killed me in this moment was the way he was postured in his chair, leaning forward, intent on our conversation. Every now and then he paused and stared off into the clouds. Then he would say something, grin, and fake laugh, complete with a 'ha ha ha' and wrinkled nose and clapping his hands and slapping his leg in glee. Whatever he said must have been hysterical.

This magic moment lasted about 10 minutes. I didn't take a picture. I didn't want to break the spell. I will never forget his serious little face, and the way his shoulders would shake when he forced himself to laugh. I half expected him to ask me for his own mug of coffee (wouldn't be the first time, come to think of it).

Is Winter over yet?

Oh, man, we have had a rough winter. Good times abounded, sure. Peter learned to crawl and giggle and say 'finished' in sign language, Benjamin learned to talk in sentences and play pretend and be sneaky (He actually pretended to play with his Leapfrog Computer while all the time he HAD MY PHONE, was concealing behind the screen. Stink). Greg and I learned we are stronger partners than we knew possible, weathering illness after illness after illness. Winter didn't start last October, but that's when the corner was turned and a series of events followed that added up to, if not the most emotionally draining winter of my life, a close second. I beat down feelings of guilt over what we did to Peter's first year of life daily. We opened a daycare so that I could bring in money while still staying home with the boys. It didn't work out the way we had hoped. The boys have been sick almost constantly. I didn't make very much money because we kept having to cancel due to one of them running a fever or I was up all night with them due to puking or whatever. I have been exhausted and depressed, and Peter, poor Peter. He's just a baby who wanted his mommy, and I was constantly putting him down so that I could change someone else's poopy diaper or wipe someone else's nose or feed someone else lunch. I think I would still be nursing right now instead of having weaned him last week totally because I was so, so exhausted and it was so hard to nurse while I was chasing other toddlers.  Not to mention my emotional unavailability at times because of the depression I was beating down every day. And Peter's fifty one different illnesses his brother avoided somehow during his first year. It was not an optimal situation. And it didn't even make money.

We are regrouping now. Greg has taken a second job and to his relief I finally agreed to close the daycare. The boys and I are learning together what life looks like with the three of us on most days. There's a happy rhythm, if not completely established, then we're working on it. We miss Greg terribly. Greg and I take comfort in the fact that its not forever, just until some debt is beaten down.

In the longstanding 'mommy wars' I have been on both sides now. Let me tell you something. Cleaning up multiple diarrhea disasters while containing a 2 year old hell bent on not taking his nap, when said 2 year old starts pulling out drawers and throwing heirloom cups into his sleeping brother's crib...that's hard shit right there, no pun intended. It ain't for the fainthearted. The isolation is no joke, either. I am not alone but completely alone all day long, especially when they are sick. That said...hats off to the mommas who go to work every day. I did that, too, and it was heartwrenchingly impossible. My head was always at work when I was home, my heart was always at home when I was working. My husband was bewildered and stressed over the cranky babies while mommy was gone, and the cranky mommy when she was home.

There's no easy way to raise babies, and that's the long and short of it. Meanwhile, I will exercise my brain with this blog and reading. I will speak to my friends daily. I will NOT spend too much time on Pinterest or mom-blogs (which I guess this is? I think of it as my surviving with depression/being broke/ I need an outlet for all of these bazillion THOUGHTS blog) because mom-blogs somehow end up making me feel inadequate, with a few exceptions.

I will remember, as I told a wonderful mom-friend of mine recently, that I am the parent God intended my boys to have. That as long as I SHOW UP and follow my instincts, I am a good mother. I am a great mother. I am the best damn mother my children could possibly have.

 That said...I am fairly certain nobody else's kids watch as much tv as mine. sigh.

TRAPPED!!!

This morning we had a poo-splosion. Mommies will recognize this as the times when the poop overtakes the diaper and spreads down the leg. My two year old doesn't care if he is covered in uck, so he makes an even bigger mess by continuing to play as though everything is fine. So, into the bath he goes. He had a blast.

Sometimes, motherhood can make you feel trapped. Need to go to the store? The baby is sleeping. Or sick. Or ornery and you cannot imagine having to get through an entire store with the whining and the fits. Or the poopy explosions keep happening over and over and over and you can't even get out of your bathrobe, much less out the door. Planning a road trip with two kids in diapers and one nursing becomes an exercise in strategic preplanning. (okay, if I get up at 4:30am and pump, he can hold his sippy cup for his morning feed, and then they should nap, and if I have to change a poopy diaper I can pull way over to the side of the road, if I need to pee and they're sleeping I will just have to hold it until I die...). Its marginally easier when Husband is going along. I remember the good old days when, if I felt like taking off for a few days, and work wasn't in the way, I would. I would drive for hours for a one day visit. Now, it has to be REALLY WORTH IT. I bring this up because my sister is moving to Korea (which is pretty weird because I have another sister who already moved to Korea and my mom is there now with first Korean resident sister) and I think I am going to drive down to Texas with the boys to spend a few days with her. But Husband can't go. Am I crazy? Probably. Bring it on.

So, the trapped feeling. It may seem counterintuitive, but if I stop trying to escape, the trapped feeling goes away. Okay, that isn't counterintuitive at all, that completely makes sense. Give in to your jailers and resign yourself to your years in the Bastille and the time is smoother, quieter, more content. I am totally kidding, I don't actually feel like I am in jail. I distracted myself with the jail metaphor.

What I mean to say is this:  My best days with the boys are the days when I show up. Not when I turn on the TV, not when I hide in the corner of the kitchen with the computer, not when I carry my phone all over the house with me and obsessively check my email and Facebook (I actually deleted the app to try to stop doing this, and now I just use Safari. Damn the convenience!!). The days that I leave my phone where I can hear it but can't reach it, the days the computer stays shut while they are awake (unless its time to Gangnam Style. That's different. More on that another time) the days the TV is only on when I need 20 minutes to get a meal prepared...Those are the amazing days. This morning, Benjamin was getting into his 'blue chair' (blue hand-me-down highchair). I went to give him a hands up as usual and he yelled 'no! no hands!' It took me a moment to realize he wanted to get into the chair unassisted, thank you very much. That was the first time he's refused my help. I was very taken aback- and know we are now entering a new phase, the part where he slowly but surely starts to pull away, claiming his own body and will and life direction. I know intellectually that this started happening the moment he showed interest in something other than nursing...but it still feels like a milestone. I have looked at him more closely since that moment this morning, trying to find my baby in the little boy. We built with blocks for about an hour, and he was overjoyed at the quiet mommy-Benjamin time. I was overjoyed, too. In a quiet, content kind of way.