Adam is a walker. There's no other way around it now. Even two weeks ago, he would walk for awhile, but then kind of look at his feet and say "Bear crawling is so much faster" and then take off toward his goal on all fours. Not anymore! He's figured out turning, steadying himself, practically running, and tip toes. He's keeping up with his sister now, and she's none too pleased about it. We're beginning to see the very beginning of sibling fights, and I know in two months they'll annoy the crap out of me, but right now they're so funny. It's typically Ella shrieking and saying "No no no no no!" and Adam grinning while he slurps on whatever toy he pulled out of Ella's organized formation. We're caught between not letting Adam ruin everything and teaching Ella how to share most days, but it's funny 99% of the time.
Adam is still nursing like a newborn, but pretty open to trying most foods. I'm not comfortable weaning him yet, because I don't feel like he eats enough to sustain himself, so we're probably not going to wean yet. I thought I would be different this time around, and wean him on the DAY he turned one, but I guess it's just those sad little feelings of knowing he's the last baby. Hopefully I get things under control before he turns five.
We're vigorously potty training Ella. She's doing so well, so long as she's completely nude. I read a blog about a lady that let her kid run around naked and she was potty trained in two days. We're a total success story of her methods! It's taken 6 months and she will only potty if she's naked, but boy howdy, she's potty trained. *insert eye roll* Most days, I'm extremely proud of her, but I'm just 110% over it, and it's unfortunate, because potty training isn't something that I'm really allowed to be "over." We just have to survive it, I guess. Surely by the time she's 30 she'll be potty trained, right?
This blog is annoying me because it's a series of short paragraphs, but I don't want to babble on aimlessly for no good reason. Truth be told, the past couple of weeks have been extremely exhausting for me. I ended up in the "dark place" that Moms don't like to talk about. My babies are the best babies, but somebody in this house has been sick pretty much since April. As a matter of fact, we've been to the doctor's office at least once (usually twice a month) since then. Usually minor things, like ear infections, or tonsillitis, but frustrating none the same. Back in December, we gave Ella a big fat shot (well, we didn't, but told her Doctor that it was fine if she did.) And wouldn't you know it, she's been mostly healthy since. Adam decided we needed some drama in January, and we ended up in the emergency room over it. We're not going to discuss the bill, but just know it weighed heavily on my already distraught mind. Add in thrush from Adam and a diarrhea fest from Ella the next week, I just hit the wall. Truthfully, I've been waiting a long time to hit the wall, and I'm pretty proud of myself that it took this long. I'm not so proud to admit that I hit the wall hard. I felt like a zombie. Almost out of body. I didn't want to talk, cook, clean, or basically do anything outside of sleep and shower. Unfortunately, anybody that knows the Gaines kids knows that sleep isn't something we do around here. Of course, my first thought was "Oh great, we're pregnant again," but I can assure you that we are not pregnant. It lasted about three days, and my husband was trying so hard to love me through it, but I could tell he was growing weary of shrugged shoulders and one word answers. All the while, it's like I was inside screaming for interaction and help, but my pride wouldn't let those words come out. Finally, one day while Cody was home, I went and laid (practically collapsed) on my bed and woke up three hours later. I felt a little better, but not totally myself, but tried to act like it was the magic ticket to whatever had been going on. We ran a few errands, and then I stopped in the middle of the aisle at SAMs, and with tears in my eyes, I turned to Cody and said "I have to go back to sleep." And he immediately took me home, where I went back asleep for another three hours. I woke up with a headache that made me close my eyes from pain, but I at least felt like I was out of the fog. But man, that headache. I roll my eyes when people say they have migraines, because I'm just going to throw it out there bluntly, if you have a migraine, you don't Facebook about it. If your head can tolerate the light of your phone as you type about your misery, it's probably not a migraine. BUT, if I've ever had a migraine, that was it. Lights bothered me, noise bothered me, moving or speaking made the pain apparent... Basically anything that wasn't a dark room with a pillow over my eyes made it worse. It lasted for about 15 hours before the pain let up... All that to say, I don't know if I had some funky illness, my first migraine, an embarrassingly unexpected nervous breakdown, or just a case of the "mehs." Whatever it was, it's over. And I'm truly thankful. And while my kids still drive me totally bananas, I don't squat down in the middle of the floor and cry this week, so there's a victory there. Right? We take victories as they come.
Touching briefly on my "Awaken" adventure, I wrote down three goals for January on my planner, and I'm so happy to say that all three of those goals were checked off. One goal was something we wanted to do to our house this month, one was chasing one of those dreams that I've been brave enough to dream, and the last was to host a family dinner. And I did them all. I should probably consider adding a deep cleaning project to this month's checklist, but eh. Maybe when I don't have kids that literally follow me from room to room destroying all of the effort I put in to cleaning. That's a terrible attitude. I'll pray about it. Probably.
I've avoided the sadness that accompanies knowing that the next time I post, I'll have a one year old. On one hand, I'm thrilled. We're heading toward days of watching our babies grow up together, whether that be through playing peacefully as allies or warring against each other in a battle of the sexes. We're moving toward family dinners, conversations, and themed dinner/movie nights. Toward birthdays where they understand the big deal and Christmases that allow them to appreciate that their parents heard and delivered the desires of their hearts. Toward inside jokes, logical opinions, and LORD LET IT BE SO, sleeping through the night. The really hard days are almost done. And yes, I know, new ages, new challenges. We'll start tackling mean girls, bullies, hard questions, and broken hearts. But THEY WILL SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT IN THEIR OWN BEDS AND IT'S GOING TO BE WONDERFUL. And just about the time that I think I've got it all figured out, they'll graduate and move out, and I'll worry incessantly about what they're doing when they're not living in this nest, but I'll soothe the pain by going to Jamaica and having a beverage for every time the kids made me cry during the "diaper years." I'll be drunk before the plane leave the ground. Haha... But seriously. Anyway, today, though I know some of the best days are already coming, I also know that some of the best days are already gone. That this little boy that has nursed incessantly will soon learn to find comfort in new ways, and that's a transition that will be heartbreaking for both of us. The cradle that we've hoarded for the past two years in the corner of our bedroom has served it's time in our lives, and soon, it will go back into storage until my little brother starts his family. I'm in that cliche circle of life, where you want it pass, but you also want it to stop. I want these babies to stay babies, but I want a Nanny for the crap storms. I want to nurse forever, but also leave town for three days with no kids. I want to tuck my daughter into her bed, leave the room, and come back to find her asleep thirty minutes later. Not sit in the corner of the bedroom, praying that she goes to sleep in under two hours. In so many ways, I want life to stay the same, but in so many other ways, I welcome change. If you're wondering, I think I just described motherhood in essay form.
Okay, I think that's enough snap for one post. Here's Adam and his eleven month pictures. He's been so much more cooperative with these things than Ella was about this time. It's so crazy that this is the second to last one. BRB going to cry.
We're vigorously potty training Ella. She's doing so well, so long as she's completely nude. I read a blog about a lady that let her kid run around naked and she was potty trained in two days. We're a total success story of her methods! It's taken 6 months and she will only potty if she's naked, but boy howdy, she's potty trained. *insert eye roll* Most days, I'm extremely proud of her, but I'm just 110% over it, and it's unfortunate, because potty training isn't something that I'm really allowed to be "over." We just have to survive it, I guess. Surely by the time she's 30 she'll be potty trained, right?
This blog is annoying me because it's a series of short paragraphs, but I don't want to babble on aimlessly for no good reason. Truth be told, the past couple of weeks have been extremely exhausting for me. I ended up in the "dark place" that Moms don't like to talk about. My babies are the best babies, but somebody in this house has been sick pretty much since April. As a matter of fact, we've been to the doctor's office at least once (usually twice a month) since then. Usually minor things, like ear infections, or tonsillitis, but frustrating none the same. Back in December, we gave Ella a big fat shot (well, we didn't, but told her Doctor that it was fine if she did.) And wouldn't you know it, she's been mostly healthy since. Adam decided we needed some drama in January, and we ended up in the emergency room over it. We're not going to discuss the bill, but just know it weighed heavily on my already distraught mind. Add in thrush from Adam and a diarrhea fest from Ella the next week, I just hit the wall. Truthfully, I've been waiting a long time to hit the wall, and I'm pretty proud of myself that it took this long. I'm not so proud to admit that I hit the wall hard. I felt like a zombie. Almost out of body. I didn't want to talk, cook, clean, or basically do anything outside of sleep and shower. Unfortunately, anybody that knows the Gaines kids knows that sleep isn't something we do around here. Of course, my first thought was "Oh great, we're pregnant again," but I can assure you that we are not pregnant. It lasted about three days, and my husband was trying so hard to love me through it, but I could tell he was growing weary of shrugged shoulders and one word answers. All the while, it's like I was inside screaming for interaction and help, but my pride wouldn't let those words come out. Finally, one day while Cody was home, I went and laid (practically collapsed) on my bed and woke up three hours later. I felt a little better, but not totally myself, but tried to act like it was the magic ticket to whatever had been going on. We ran a few errands, and then I stopped in the middle of the aisle at SAMs, and with tears in my eyes, I turned to Cody and said "I have to go back to sleep." And he immediately took me home, where I went back asleep for another three hours. I woke up with a headache that made me close my eyes from pain, but I at least felt like I was out of the fog. But man, that headache. I roll my eyes when people say they have migraines, because I'm just going to throw it out there bluntly, if you have a migraine, you don't Facebook about it. If your head can tolerate the light of your phone as you type about your misery, it's probably not a migraine. BUT, if I've ever had a migraine, that was it. Lights bothered me, noise bothered me, moving or speaking made the pain apparent... Basically anything that wasn't a dark room with a pillow over my eyes made it worse. It lasted for about 15 hours before the pain let up... All that to say, I don't know if I had some funky illness, my first migraine, an embarrassingly unexpected nervous breakdown, or just a case of the "mehs." Whatever it was, it's over. And I'm truly thankful. And while my kids still drive me totally bananas, I don't squat down in the middle of the floor and cry this week, so there's a victory there. Right? We take victories as they come.
Touching briefly on my "Awaken" adventure, I wrote down three goals for January on my planner, and I'm so happy to say that all three of those goals were checked off. One goal was something we wanted to do to our house this month, one was chasing one of those dreams that I've been brave enough to dream, and the last was to host a family dinner. And I did them all. I should probably consider adding a deep cleaning project to this month's checklist, but eh. Maybe when I don't have kids that literally follow me from room to room destroying all of the effort I put in to cleaning. That's a terrible attitude. I'll pray about it. Probably.
I've avoided the sadness that accompanies knowing that the next time I post, I'll have a one year old. On one hand, I'm thrilled. We're heading toward days of watching our babies grow up together, whether that be through playing peacefully as allies or warring against each other in a battle of the sexes. We're moving toward family dinners, conversations, and themed dinner/movie nights. Toward birthdays where they understand the big deal and Christmases that allow them to appreciate that their parents heard and delivered the desires of their hearts. Toward inside jokes, logical opinions, and LORD LET IT BE SO, sleeping through the night. The really hard days are almost done. And yes, I know, new ages, new challenges. We'll start tackling mean girls, bullies, hard questions, and broken hearts. But THEY WILL SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT IN THEIR OWN BEDS AND IT'S GOING TO BE WONDERFUL. And just about the time that I think I've got it all figured out, they'll graduate and move out, and I'll worry incessantly about what they're doing when they're not living in this nest, but I'll soothe the pain by going to Jamaica and having a beverage for every time the kids made me cry during the "diaper years." I'll be drunk before the plane leave the ground. Haha... But seriously. Anyway, today, though I know some of the best days are already coming, I also know that some of the best days are already gone. That this little boy that has nursed incessantly will soon learn to find comfort in new ways, and that's a transition that will be heartbreaking for both of us. The cradle that we've hoarded for the past two years in the corner of our bedroom has served it's time in our lives, and soon, it will go back into storage until my little brother starts his family. I'm in that cliche circle of life, where you want it pass, but you also want it to stop. I want these babies to stay babies, but I want a Nanny for the crap storms. I want to nurse forever, but also leave town for three days with no kids. I want to tuck my daughter into her bed, leave the room, and come back to find her asleep thirty minutes later. Not sit in the corner of the bedroom, praying that she goes to sleep in under two hours. In so many ways, I want life to stay the same, but in so many other ways, I welcome change. If you're wondering, I think I just described motherhood in essay form.
Okay, I think that's enough snap for one post. Here's Adam and his eleven month pictures. He's been so much more cooperative with these things than Ella was about this time. It's so crazy that this is the second to last one. BRB going to cry.
