WAY BACK MACHINE, circa 2006 -part deux

Before Joshua, I Never Knew... (the flip side!)

...that it could take until noon to find time to eat breakfast.
...that I could simultaneously operate a double breast pump, rock a baby to sleep and do my taxes.
...that breastfeeding a baby is a full time job.
...that the fact that my son is mesmorized by the lines on my headboard is NO indication of his intelligence.
...that there comes a point when you just don't care how many "lactation consultants" squeeze your boobs.
...that being vomited on at 2am is just not as much fun as it was at age 21.
...that baby boys actually take great delight in urinating all over their mothers.
...that two hours of consecutive sleep would be considered a victory.
...that an 8 pound human would necessitate a continuous stream of laundry.
...that the human nipple can stretch beyond your wildest imagination when something startes your baby during breastfeeding.
...that a trip to the bank or post office can feel like a vacation.
...that it is all (even the stretch-marked skin that is still hanging down to my knees) worth it.

WAY BACK MACHINE, circa 2006

Before Josh, I never knew:

* That my heart would swell, Grinch-style every time he smiles at me.
* That I would be secretly pleased when only Mommy can stop him from crying.
* That sometimes I would look at him and burst into tears because I'm so lucky.
* That feeling your baby roll and flutter inside you is an indescribably joy.
* That seeing your husband hold your baby would make you fall in love with him again.
* That your parents have been waiting their whole lives for this!
* That true contentment is an infant nuzzled against your chest.
* That it would be so much fun to say "Boo Boo" and touch your baby's nose a thousand times in a row.
* That I would thank God every night.
* The wonderful feeling of tiny fingers grasping mine.
* That I really would love him more each day.
* That hearing him laugh and watching him learn new things would be the greatest moments of my life.

Thanksgiving

This year I am thankful for sleep piercing cries. For jelly on my couch. For the need to tiptoe after 8pm. For "one more story". For matchbox cars in my VCR. For a tantruming toddler under each arm. For runny noses wiped nonchalantly on my pant leg.

Because it means that I have them.

(Stir) Crazy Days

Picture it. The Trickle kitchen. 10:15am. Josh and Cara are whining in unison while making every attempt to actually climb up me while I nosh my breakfast --a handful of Saltines-- over the sink. Dishwasher: unloaded. Floor: unswept. Eyebrows: unplucked. Dogs: barking in triplicate. Seems I have broken the cardinal rule of being a SAHM: failure to plan a morning outing. And I'm paying the price. Although I don't recall my own childhood being racked with constant rendezvous into the community, it is my finding that for my kids and me, these outings are a prerequisite for sanity. And with the weather barely creeping past the 40 degree mark these days, creativity is a must. A trip to the dump will suffice: Ooohh, look! Mommy throws in the paper --mommy throws in the plastic. Watch me save the Earth! The Post Office can also be a real treat, what, with the thrill of pushing the button to activate the handicap-accessible door! But it's cold outside today, and we're staying in, I decide in feigned authority. In an attempt to settle into our morning at home, I flick on a Motown CD, grab another cracker and scoop up both kids for a whirl around the kitchen. As her way of saying that she, too, would enjoy a Saltine, Cara bites my face. Ouch! OK, everybody in the car...

I Wear Legs

A Conversation with my son, the fashion plate

Mommy: OK, Josh time to get dressed. Let's put your pants on.
Josh: No! I'm not wearing pants. I'm wearing legs.
Mommy: You have to wear pants on your legs. It's cold outside.
Josh (escaping from my clutches): No, I want to wear short pants (Joshese for shorts).
Mommy (wrangling him into the pants): Shorts are for summer, it's winter.
Josh (pushing the pants up to his knees, then holding them there as he goes about his business): It's not winter!
Mommy: OK, here is your hat.
Josh (still holding up pants in flood fashion): I'm not wearing a hat... I'm wearing a head!

**************************************************************************************

Back on Top

Let's just say it's been a torrid few weeks... husband sick, (children crying), husband in hospital, (children whining), husband still sick at home, (children fighting), husband on the mend. And the stress of 24/7 solo childcare did not always bring out my best qualities... I do believe the phrase, "When is it my turn to get sick?" was muttered daily in the type of sarcasm reserved only for those who have just spent the last 2 1/2 hours wrestling toddlers into bed. One wearing cowboy boots. And a top hat. I lost my temper, lost my focus. Josh & Cara seemed to be in cahoots, their secret pact demanding that at least one of them be awake at all times. Awake and screaming whenever possible. More than once I mentally listed my options for returning to the workforce --perhaps with a full time job and also a little moonlighting on the side. The stay-at-home-mom gig can be tough at times-- and without the chance to rejuvenate, pure mental mayhem can seem a heartbeat away. Then I looked outside one morning and noticed the trees in my yard had turned barren, the once emboldened carpet of leaves was now crispy and brown. I had missed the best weeks of fall in my whirlwind of self-pity. Missed jumping in the leaves with the kids. Missed photographing them with the bright backdrop of autumn. It is a powerful thing to be reminded that with you rests not only the well-being and safety of your children but also their chances for happiness. Their behavior hadn't changed while their dad was sick, I was setting the household tone to one of impatience and stress. Now all the Trickles are feeling better --and are even more committed to maintaining a happy home. What a wonderful gift it is to be able to spend my days with my kids, screams, fights, top hats and all.

Political Discourse

Since Tuesday, I've been rehearsing with Josh to say that our new president will be Barack Obama. "No," he argues each time, --like many of us, he remains in denial-- "Cara is our new president." Not that I wouldn't enjoy being "First Mom", but my girl is only 12 months old! This morning when he responded to my query with toddler gibberish, I reminded him that it was Obama. "Barack Obama?" he asked. "Yes!" Heart soars. My boy is wicked smart! "Yes, it's Barack Obama!" I congratulate him. "Don't eat him," he says, his look serious. Um, OK.

One caveat: If Cara ever does run the free world, she'll be kickin' it dictator-style.

Happy Chaos

Happy Chaos. That is how I describe our house. This afternoon as I wrestled Cara for the toothbrush she was using to scrub Josh's potty chair --from my spot on the commode!-- then entered the dining room to find Josh sitting upon a pumpkin atop the table, eating Puffs by the handfull, it hit me: These days must be documented! Being Josh & Cara's mom fills my days, my weeks, my LIFE, with unimaginable love, fulfillment, and well,... noise! I hope that one day they will read these posts and know that I wouldn't have traded one moment. Well, perhaps some solo bathroom time...