Happy birthday, Collin.

Dear Collin,

Holding you while you fall asleep is a gift I have never taken for granted. You made me a mother, you brought me to my place in this world.

I love when you dramatically sing songs from your favorite movies, and the way  you pronounce chocolate (sockwit) makes me want to give you every piece of my secret stash. One day, you will probably be a parent. You will know what it feels like to hold a brand new life in your arms and love so completely, it makes every wound in your soul heal, and you will understand what unconditional love really means. I hope you have a baby like you. I hope you have a child who snuggles like you do, with a sense of humor as sharp as yours, a light as bright as yours.

I love that you're the life of the party wherever we go. I love the way your heart is like a great big ocean, with room for everybody. I love that you came into this world knowing exactly who you are.

I can't wait to watch you grow up, but I hope you never change. I hope you always keep your spunky spirit. I hope you never lose your imagination, or your knack for making friends. You were born with the gift of bottomless joy, and you spread it around to everyone you meet.

Thank you for choosing me to be your mother. You are my first baby, my treasure. You are my loving, patient teacher. You are my forever friend.

Love,
Mommy.

We are mothers

Even if we aren't friends, even if you don't even know me outside of the internet, I hope, through my words, you feel like you know me. Because when I tell my story, I'm telling your story. If there's one thing I've learned from motherhood, it's that we're all the same, at heart. We're all overwhelmed and maxed out and exhausted, and we get out of bed in the morning and do it all over again because we love our children. We love our children, and until the day we die, we will never stop trying to do right by them. That is the common thread that weaves us together.

This blog is like my confessional. I bare my soul to you, my reader. Why? Because ever since I started blogging, friends have told me that I put words to what they feel. How, then, could I be anything but honest? How could I hold back? I feel inspired to write candidly because I know that if just one other mom can relate to me and feel less alone, I've done a great service.

  So, for Mothers Day, here is my love letter to you:

Dear Mama,

You are doing just fine. Every time you lose your s***  after the hundredth time of repeating yourself to your toddler- you're doing just fine. Every time you pretend not to smell the poopy diaper because you just don't have the energy to wrangle a diaper change- you're doing just fine. Every time you hand your kid your cell phone/ sit your kid in front of the TV so you can catch just FIVE MINUTES of peace- you're doing just fine.

Being a mom is the best, and also the hardest, thing you will ever do. At times, you will feel inept and overwhelmed and incapable- you're not. Nobody can do a better job of raising YOUR child than you. You were made for this.

If that doesn't help, my kid actually ate cookies for dinner the other night. So, chances are, you're probably doing better than me.

Happy Mothers Day.

Love,

Me.

The way things are.

Sometimes I think, as I haul my screaming toddler to the car with a baby strapped to my body, that people probably feel sorry for me. Maybe they even pity me. And you know what? That's ok. I would rather be pitied than judged. I would rather people recognize that I'm an insane person, just trying to control the chaos, than a bad mother with a bad child.

Because, boy, has my child been... we won't say "bad," because he's not. But he's been challenging. Like it should be when your whole world has dramatically changed.

Let me tell you how its been going since H went back to work:

The first week- it was fairly difficult, but I was filled like a balloon with false confidence. I had an activity planned for every day. I was active in Collin's homeschooling, and Upsherin planning. I felt like I had this motherhood thing DOWN.

The second week- I was flattened. Monday came around and I sort of went, "Wait, what? You mean I have to do this again? FOREVER??" I was exhausted. I was depressed. I passed out the minute the kids went to bed at night. I watched Frozen and A Bug's Life multiple times a day because it meant I could get away with sitting on the couch, and it guaranteed at least five minutes of quiet.

The third week- Sibling adjustment was in full swing. Collin went through his days with both guns drawn. It was war. He is feeling very angry right now, mostly at me, and I felt it all week. Every day was a count down until Daddy came home. But, strangely, it felt easier than the second week, and I think that has to do with me. I'm feeling a little more confident. Real confidence this time, the kind you only get from life experience. You have to fall on your face before you know what you're made of.

By the way, I'm still on my face. But, I feel like, six months from now, I'm going to be a completely different person.

I'm so humbled by the way motherhood changes you. And, I'm learning, you are changed completely the second time around, just as you were the first. You bend, you stretch, you grow. You go into your cocoon and come back again, something else. You draw strength from places you didn't know strength was hidden, so you can be strong enough for your children.

I once heard of second time motherhood described as a passage from one of my favorite children's books, The Velveteen Rabbit. It was the part that describes what "real" meant, as the Velveteen Rabbit was a toy who wanted to be real. Becoming a mother again was related to being "made real."

"Your eyes are loved until they fall out. Your fur is all loved off."

Something like that. It said that the first baby made you a mother, but the second baby made you Real. It's true. It's all true. And I feel very Real.

Don't mind the crying lady.

I've heard the funniest joke, I can't wait to tell it to you. Are you ready?

It's any time anyone tells me to  "Sleep when the baby sleeps."

HA HA HA. Hilarious, right?

I've hit a critical mass of sleep deprivation. Here's what my week has looked like so far (and it's only Tuesday. Who knows what awaits the rest of the week?):
*Story has only worn pajamas, day and night.
*I ate cereal for breakfast AND dinner yesterday.
*I randomly started crying at Collin's preschool and I had NO IDEA WHY. I was not sad. The tears just literally leaked out my eyes, almost on their own.

I'm really feeling it now, this life with two kids thing. I get it. It's real, and it's gritty, and it's hard. But you know what else? I'm so loving having two. Really, I mean it. This is my dream, having children, and I'm living it. At night, I look at them sleeping peacefully, and I'm overcome with love and gratitude. These are my children, both of them.

Now, I'm going to bed.

Feeling like a hippie, and other news.

Two days ago, I was watching Babe with Collin, and I saw the part in the beginning, where Babe is a tiny piglet with his piglet siblings and his big, fat mama. Then, the farmer comes and takes her away with a cattle prod, and Babe cries for her while his siblings are fed their piggy milk from a machine.

"I'm going to be a vegetarian." I blurted out.

Husband looked up at me, surprised, but not really. He's seen this coming. I had been talking about it, wrestling with it, for a little while now. I was vegan (and raw, thank you very much) when I became pregnant with Collin, and I stopped immediately when a midwife told me I had a better chance of my baby getting enough protein as a burger king mom then as a vegan mom. We left her office, and I ordered a turkey burger. And I'm glad for all my choices, but I've always wanted to go back to my old ways. I've always planned on it, really.

So, I'm vegetarian, on top of being already gluten free and low sugar. In my tarot deck, I pulled a card this morning that said I was entering a period of transformation, a season of giving and/or receiving, a time of refilling my cup. That all made a lot more sense at Story's doctor appointment today, as her pediatrician told me the source of her terrible gastro upset was probably not acid reflux, but likely a food allergy. She told me to cut out all dairy and soy for two weeks, and see if Story feels better. I had already cut out all dairy but cheese, because hello, cheese is amazing. But now, it seems, I am gluten free, vegan, soy free, and low sugar. I really do belong in Santa Cruz now. The funny part about all this, is how normal I felt at the natural foods grocery store as I spent about two hours reading every ingredient on the back of every package of food I hoped to eat.  Just another day, in Santa Cruz. I imagined how hard this diet would be, if I lived just about anywhere else. My new diet transformation has revived my gluten and sugar boycott, because let's face it, brownies saved my life postpartum. So, I'm reclaiming my health, and (hopefully) giving relief to my child.

In other news, Mike goes back to work next week, and I'm actually not hyperventilating into a paper bag. I'm  feeling boldly optimistic and just the tiniest bit excited. I feel ready. I think we're all ready. I feel readier than I did the last time Husband went back to work after we had a baby. How lucky we are that we had so much time to feel so ready. Collin has settled down SIGNIFICANTLY, which makes this feel doable. I feel like I have my son back, and it's a good feeling.

So yes, tarot deck, it is a time to start anew.

It's my party, and I'll rant if I want to.

I hate that moment when the baby finishes nursing and hangs in this half-asleep state until she has a poop explosion in her diaper and passes out for real.

Now what?

Do I wake her up to change her? It's getting smelly in here. She's getting a rash as I sit here on Facebook. Bad mommy, bad mommy, get up and change her.

....

I'm still sitting here. Why am I still sitting here? Why am I such a lazy mom? And for that matter, why does my house look like this? Do I think I live in the remains of a war zone? And why do I still wear the same maternity yoga pants every day? Actually, why did I wear the same exact outfit three days in a row?

...

I still haven't changed the baby.

Insane and wonderful.

Now it's Story's week four. She is still the sweet bundle of baby she was a week ago, only now she's much bigger. The clothes that fit her last week, fit her no more. She's got rolls and chins to spare, so different from my last baby, who was like a human noodle.

Speaking of said baby, he is calming down significantly. Or, he was, until he suddenly quit napping. It wasn't a slow process, like I thought it would be. His naps didn't gradually shorten and fade away into the sunset. No, one day he was napping, and the next day, he wasn't. And he hasn't since. And, yes, we're all going insane now. But, the good news is, he went to bed at 8 tonight. What? Has that ever happened before, in the history of Collin? No, my friends, it has not.

Something truly amazing to me about second time motherhood, is how much I love nursing this time around. I say that, even as I lay here feverish with mastitis (common nursing complication). Nursing was so hard to get used to with Collin, probably the hardest part of new motherhood. I have always been a marcher in the breast milk over-supply parade, which is a blessing, really, it is. But it's also spraying your baby in the face with milk and leaking all over everything you bump into. Story is having trouble keeping up with the supply, and ends up nursing like she's drinking from a firehouse. Needless to say, gas has been a big issue for my little nursling. I'm trying to take this in stride, as the pediatric nurse assures me over the phone that it's perfectly normal for a baby to turn red in the face and scream. Perfectly normal.

We're at a stage right now where she always wants to be upright because of the gas, and she has what  can only be described as "The evening fussies." I feel like the evening fussies are my equivalent of PMS: namely, large outpourings of emotion, mixed with a little rage, and totally beyond reason or consolation. Almost like complaining for the sake of complaining. Collin did the same thing at this age, so I'm not freaking out about it this time around. Score one for second time motherhood.

Nap deprivation aside, I really feel like Collin is starting to come back to earth. I see more glimpses of normal Collin every day, and we're having sweet moments together as a family. He's now starting to bond a little with the baby. She smiled at him in bed this morning, and it just about made his world, which just about made my world. He really wants to play with her, but she's still just a blob of tiny baby, so he improvises. He'll wiggle himself around on her hands or feet and say she's tickling him. He'll put his face in the way of her swiping infant arms and declare, "She got me!" It's all very cute, and I really can't wait until their relationship isn't so one-sided. Despite how hard it is initially to introduce a new sibling, I know the pay off is worth it. I'm still getting used to the fact that I have two kids. Two kids! Life is insane. And wonderful.