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Oh pacifier, oh pacifier

 Paci, nubby, bub, bink, sucker, nu-nu, mama, tati, pass, lolli, wubby, sassy, dummy, plug, popper, soother, nuk, poppy, kiki, button, boppy, and bubby. These are all the names I’ve heard over the years for the little piece of rubber or plastic formed into an artificial nipple-ish shape that is used by many to console their sweet babies.

     My kids, I think, are odd. They’ve never really taken to the pacifier. I’ve always had some on hand if even only for those times we’re in the car and really can’t stop. Each of them, so far, had a different brand preference, if and when they would take one. One liked soothies or Nuks, one liked playtex, one DID like mams for five seconds until deciding they sucked. (just re-read this. oopsy. pun not intended.)

      Not even my bottle-fed babe really took one but on occasion when she was particularly cranky. Certainly not to the point that any true weaning was ever a thing. But gracious, would it have been nice on those nights where my sweet girl would not go for any method of “sleep training” or “self soothing”. (All of which I have more disparaging opinions on now but it was what it was and that was then.) Even if it just meant she stayed calm and quiet while I held her all night and day!

    With my second, I was hyper-focused on successfully breastfeeding after barely making it a couple months with my first. I did NOT want her having a pacifier in her mouth evaaarrr. Ever. For the sake of my supply and our success. Well, not only did she not really accept a paci but she wouldn’t take a bottle. The two or three times she was offered a bottle she’d only drink an ounce or two and wait out the time it took me to get back from wherever I was and then she’d nurse like crazy. Maybe to prove a point to me? More likely to ensure herself that all was well in her tiny world. Regardless, we made it to 17 months of economical and/or exclusive and/or on-demand breastfeeding.

    Now, here I sit, typing this up and wondering if it’s even coherent. My sweet Pumpkin (baby three) was up ALL night last night. Nursing on and off, fussing, burping, farting, fussing, staring at the ceiling fan in quiet, fussing, cooing, smiling, nursing more, NOT SLEEPING. It was definitely the hardest night in all of these ~2 months thus far. Considering this child has been an excellent sleeper even though he does not let more than 3 hours pass without eating and he’s only had the tiniest smidgen of mixed up days and nights. I don’t know why but that plastic paci gets to be very appealing when your little babe has been on and off for 30 minutes at a time (30 on, 30 off, that is), both sides, for over 6 hours. At some point, my husband just HAD to take over and let me sleep for a full hour while he sang and rocked our very-awake baby at 4am. Thankfully, this little buddy is a peach and he’s pretty content 98% of the time. Just not last night.

      Apparently, the paci he had taken to a couple weeks ago is not his flavor anymore. He acted like I was torturing him by responding with gags and funny faces when I touched a different one (the kind we’d tried originally) to his little pursed lips. I venture to guess he’s going the way of my second in totally denying any soothing from a rubber nub. I guess he just prefers the original pacifier, if ya know what I mean. (Nipple. I’m referring to female, human nipple.) 


     Here’s to coffee, I suppose!

Parenting: Their First Foundation

     We have two daughters and a son on the way. Blessed is an understatement. Blessed is the understatement of the century.

     Parenting is a radical experience. That's the best way I know to describe it. Even the moments leading up to a first pregnancy or adoption form a part of this crazy experience. It's so normal, the majority of humankind experiences it. But, it is unexplainable that with however many millions before me having gone through this relative experience it still remains an experience that is so mystifying, overwhelming, and surreal. It is unexplainable that as many millions before me have gone through the heartache, the challenges, and the risk of becoming parents that we (I) still jump into the role so willingly.

     I love my children beyond good reason. I could talk about my girls for days. I'm all ready deeply in love with my boy. They fascinate me. They thrill me. They challenge me. They make me better. I've never tried to change so much of myself for the better for someone, not even my husband. I want to give them everything. Sometimes I want to be their everything (which is a perpetual insanity). When I do things, make decisions, or weigh options for anything I think of my husband and I think of them. I've lost my old self to this inherent new identity and there will never be a way to get the person I was back (not that I'm terribly in want of her, that's a whole other post). It's amazing.

Until you're in the midst of it there is no way to fathom it.

    My first job was at a daycare. I enjoyed it a lot. I learned a lot. There were so many different kids and parents for me to observe. I thought for sure I'd have parenting down by the time I had my own kids aside from not knowing exactly how my own kids would be. I saw what worked and didn't work with different kids. I saw what different parents tried or would never attempt. I saw them upset over little things. I saw them irrationally calm over what I thought were big things. There was - with every single parent - a feverish desire to provide their children with the best. After working there for almost 2 years I thought I had a pretty good idea of how I'd be as a parent. It's laughable now because I could never have been more wrong. I misunderstood so much. As much as I adored my little classes and judged the numerous parents on their every move I simply had no freaking clue. None. Sure, I could do the mechanical things: prepare a bottle of formula or breast milk, change a diaper, potty train a willing kid, show them flashcards, read them books, fix their snacks, put them down for naps, and show them new toys or games or songs. At the end of the day, they were not mine. Their very little, bright, sweet souls were not my load to bear. My duty was only to them in the minutes and hours they were with me and even then the ultimate responsibility was on their parents, present or not. Often, I may have thought it was good of us teachers to give our time to these babes: teaching them bible verses and praise songs, showing them letters and numbers, disciplining bad behavior, and modeling good behavior but ultimately we stood in as temporary extensions of their parents. We were a provisional choice made by the parents! All that to say, I had no idea what I was really getting into . . .

     Parental love is illogical, self-defeating, burdensome, and it ought to be feared. The beauty of this intransigent human connection nullifies any single thing we bring against ourselves as we become parents. The sleeplessness, the unkempt dress, the loss of free income, the loss of time alone. Even our bodies our not solely our own anymore whether we carry a fetus through pregnancy, nurse a new baby (whether it's for a month or through toddler-hood), or simply neglect our own self-care in order to prioritize that of our child. Those are just the "shallow" things (and they really aren't all that shallow are they?).

     They are "ours" we say. They are "ours" to mold and teach, love and comfort, direct and encourage. We are their first foundation. I think that's what moms and dads really are in the end. We are the foundation these beauties of ours are built upon. A lot of people never realize this. A lot of people (like me) don't totally see this picture of parenthood until AFTER the offspring has arrived. Some, unfortunately, never see it coming or never realize the truth.

    What's a thousand times scarier than this is that we are only their temporary foundation. They are ours to lift up, ours to support, ours to enjoy and pour into and fall in love with. But. . . they are not ours to keep or to hold back or even, in the very end, ours to save.

    Imagine building a grand mansion down to the details of decor. Imagine putting your entire livelihood into it. Now, realize that every moment of work and every scrap of care you put into that structure was meant to be moved. It was meant to be designed for another place. It was meant to belong to someone else. It was never really yours in the sense things are yours.

   Imagine receiving a commission from the highest power on the planet for the most exquisite work of art you'd ever created. All the stress you would put into making it the best. All the material you would need to make sure you created a masterpiece.

   Imagine being given the most priceless jewel in the universe. It is yours to hold and keep and treasure until further notice. If you are diligent, you will be given the greatest gift of all. You put all of your time, energy, and focus on this thing. The time comes. The jewel is taken from your hands. The greatest gift of all time: knowing the jewel was cared for while you had it and perhaps the chance to see it shine someday.

    And that's how impossible and insane parenting really is . . . . It all starts with the first moments of their lives with you, then a slow and sure separation (one we are meant to guide and nurture to fruition!) that begins at the cut of the cord. No matter what, no matter what they become, whether they leave us early or stay with us longer than expected we are their first foundation. No matter what they change about themselves or where they go or what they do or who they give themselves to we are always their parents. We, my husband and I, will always be a part of them.


    And in the end of it all, I would never give this opportunity up for anything. Nothing can compare.

School.

It's late. Kiddos are in bed. I'm lonely. Just got done studying.

What could you possibly do to make mom-life harder? Get a full time job and/or go to college at the same time. What could make that harder? Doing it at home with your littles underfoot.

Why oh why didn't I take the BLUE pill?

Sometimes, I truly feel pathetic. I second guess everything I've ever done. I graduated high school at 17, great GPA, decent ACT scores, and headed to a private university (they certainly think they're awesomesauce . . . can you say $$$$$) just after turning 18. Now I've made my choices. Here I am. I'm 22, haven't held a regular job in 3 years, eeking by to hopefully finish my 2 year degree before 23.

Then I go and look in at those two beautiful girls. I walk out of their room and pass the portrait of my Marine on the wall. There are toys all over the floor, used dishes in the sink, leftovers from a good meal on the counter, and a pile of dirty clothes (still) sitting in a hamper.

What the HELL is wrong with me? I have nothing to complain about. Seriously. I have nothing to want. This is far from being pathetic. I sincerely hope no one pities me. If you are you're wasting your time.

So here's a better perspective. I'm only 22. I all ready have an incredible marriage of three years to my best friend in the universe. We've made these two amazing little humans (the most amazing in the world in my humble mommy opinion). I have done all I can to bring in extra money (babysitting, ebay, paper route anyone?). Even though I could drop out now I haven't and even thought a 2 year degree has taken me 4.5 years I'm going to get it. (By all means, I might just take a stab at getting my 4 year degree.) I supported my husband as he pursued his dream of becoming a United States Marine. Rather than accumulate more debt staying in a private school I dropped out until I could afford it.

It may seem out of order. It's definitely harder. But I'll be damned if anyone convinces me this isn't the best story.

Certainly, there is no better legacy I can create than the two sleeping babes on the other side of this wall. There is no better creation, no wiser investment, no richer return.

Sometimes I have to remind myself why I'm in school. I'm doing this for me. I actually love to learn and if it was free I'd probably stay in school until I die. But, I'm also doing this for them. They need to know what they're capable of doing. Who better to show them than their own parents?

So there you have it. My next to last semester at this school has begun. I'm keeping fingers crossed I can kill these courses, transfer to an online program, and get my bachelor's. Meanwhile, my man is out in a field somewhere being amazing. Our two princesses are in their warm beds.

Note to self: I'd take the red pill again just like that.

Oh Hai!

I'm a semi-crunchy Mama of two, 18 month old N and newborn E, living in NWA (Northwest Arkansas). I've lived in the area since 2008 and despite making other plans it's looking like my husband and I will be here for at least a few more years! I'm on a mission to discover all the fun things this area has to offer for us. Come back soon to hear about our experiences as we explore. You'll probably find other mommy stuff on here too, like a post I'm working on about baby-wearing, tips on places you can feel comfortable breastfeeding in public, and info on some of my favorite places to shop for kid stuff around here!

Three places/events we hope to attend in the upcoming fall/harvest season:

Ozark Corn Maze

Farmland Adventures

10th Annual Trick-or-Treat on the Square

More to come soon!