Beach Advice

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If there's one thing I've repeated again and again to family members who have asked "how are you doing?" {and maybe to some who haven't asked... these days when other adults are around, I tend to do most of the talking}, it's "I'm ready for things to go back to normal again." By which I mean, I'm ready for the stage of my life where I can't do anything except survive to be OVER. I've been in that stage for about 18 months, ever since I went on bed rest when I was pregnant with Max and Maggie, and it's lasted much much too long.

One way I've combating the cabin fever that I feel almost constantly is to encourage family outings -- it's too hot for the park {and even our older two don't get it yet}, but we go on walks in our neighborhood, and we've tried the library and Marbles Kids Museum. I've also been insisting on a family beach trip in September. I'm at the point where I don't really care if it's a disaster, I just miss the ocean and some semblance of freedom in my life so we are going end of story. If I sound selfish and a little whiny, I think it's my turn.

As much as I'm resigned to the idea that our beach trip might be a disaster, I plan on doing quite a bit of work to make sure it actually doesn't turn out that way. I'm only looking into vacation rentals that are right smack on the beach, because I don't see Christian and I carrying three babies and all our stuff across a busy road every day. No thank you. And I'd love any advice you have to share. I've heard the thing about baby powder to get rid of sand, but how much do I need? I have a trial size container; should I buy an industrial size? And do I shake it directly on the skin, or should I pour it in my hand first?

I'd also love advice about what baby gear has been excellent at the beach {and in the pool}, and which you wished you'd passed on, along with any recommendations on places to stay in Atlantic Beach or thereabouts. I've already done quite a bit of research about what might be the most fun aspect of preparing for this trip, which is buying a new swimsuit for Maggie. {More advice needed: should I get her a tankini for easy diaper changes?} I love all of these, and, awesome bonus! because summer is almost over they're all on super-sale:

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9

Thanks in advance for all your help!

Sisters

Yesterday I went to visit my sister Alice for the first time since Lucy was born. I thought, "it's been two months and the time has come!" and then my brain couldn't help itself and followed with "...the walrus said." Because, you know, Alice. But seriously, I lovelovelove visiting Alice. Whenever I'm feeling like I want to get out of my house, like I have to get out of my house or my brain will explode, I run to Alice's. And we had the bestest time with her and her kids yesterday.

One thing about Alice is that she makes things seem easy. When we're at home, Max and Maggie toddle up to our back doors, peer out, try to turn the knob, and then turn at look at me with the most pathetic looks on their faces. I know they're saying, "Please, Mama, let us play outside!" But it just seems too hard, or too hot, or too infested with mosquitoes to venture outdoors with just me and them. So we play inside instead.

When we were at Alice's house, Maggie was looking out the back door and I said, "Oh, she wants to go outside." And Alice jumped up and said, "Well, then let's go!"* And we went. And my kids had the time of their lives. Lucy lay on a blanket in the grass and kicked her legs whenever the wind blew. Max crawled all over, tried to eat rocks, successfully ate a flower, and chewed on a paintbrush {his favorite}. Maggie showed off her walking, took all the chalk out of its basket and then put it back in again, and rubbed water in her hair. Ah, every babies' perfect day!

I've talked before about how great a sister Alice is, how she always helps me feel better, how her house is my home-away-from-home. Do you have someone like that in your life? I hope everyone does. And I hope that someday I can be to Alice what she is to me.







*Alice didn't really say that. Oswald {from our favorite show Oswald} says that in the episode "Daisy Plays an Instrument." I don't remember exactly what Alice said, but probably it was more like, "Okay, we can go outside." Please forgive me for quoting Oswald to you; it's hard to get him out of my head sometimes.

What it Means

Being a mother of three means that I am always touching one of my children, from the moment I wake up when Christian brings Lucy to me in the morning, to the moment I lay my Lovey down to sleep at night. With Lucy, it's mostly nursing all.day.long. And there's so much Max-and-Maggie-touching in between: changing diapers, cuddling to read books, picking up to go somewhere faster, comforting with blankies in tow, fishing "ickies" out of mouths, games of chasing and tackling, and {my favorite} kissing. I'm used to it, and most of the time I love it. The only thing I can't stand is whiny and clingy touching, especially if it goes on for an extended period of time for no reason.

Being a mother of three means that more often than not, the TV is on at our house. Before Lucy was born, I knew TV would be part of my plan to keep the peace once she was home. I started showing Max and Maggie Oswald because it's the least obnoxious kids' show I've seen. We started with just an episode a day, and it took a little while before they started actually paying attention, but now they love it. {And if you're wondering, "Is she actually saying that she got her kids hooked on TV when they were just one year old on purpose?" then the answer is YES. I make no apologies for my parenting techniques.} They now watch a healthy mix of Oswald, Blue's Clues, and classic Disney movies. We can always work on weaning them off TV when they're older and our lives are less insane.

Being a mother of three means that my body is under a lot of strain. Besides the usual {carrying two 20-pound babies up the stairs at the same time, that kind of thing}, I'm now also caring for and breastfeeding a two-month-old. I realized how close I was to physically hitting my limit when I started getting migraines, some of which didn't go away for days. Ugh! I went to the doctor and she told me what I already knew, I needed to be drinking more water and getting more sleep. I've been trying; I know I need to take care of myself in order to take care of my family. I pop half a dozen vitamins every day to help: a prenatal vitamin and vitamin D as recommended by my OB/GYN, magnesium to keep migraines away, and two giant calcium supplements because I'm off dairy {it upsets Lucy's tummy}. There are still days, at least one a week, when the clock hits 2:30 pm and I don't know how I'm going to stay awake until Christian gets home.




Being a mother of three means that I'm thinking three steps ahead about things that most people don't even think about. Pick up both Max's and Maggie's blankies before you get them out of bed at the end of naptime; it's a lot harder to pick up a blankie with a kid in each arm. Lay out clean diapers, pajamas, and lotion {and have an episode of Oswald ready to go} before Christian comes downstairs with post-bath babies. Don't get two diapers out of the basket for diaper changes; get four -- you'll need them later anyway and it will be handy to have them in the middle of the floor, right next to the wipes. The key to thinking three steps ahead is going about your normal baby-caring business and then, blerg! everyone's crying and you realize you should have done things differently.

Being a mother of three means that free time never just happens, ever. I'm caring for children literally starting the exact moment I wake up, and then all morning. If Lucy ever happens to be asleep when Max and Maggie go down for their nap, I use that time to eat {I usually have both my breakfast and lunch during their naptime}, shower, sleep, or take care of house business. There's enough work to go around even after Christian gets home to keep us both busy until Max and Maggie's bedtime, and then I want to spend the precious two hours before we need to go to bed with Christian, not doing something alone. I have a hundreds of items competing for first place on my when-I-get-a-minute list, and several long-overdue errands I need to run. And you all know I haven't blogged in almost a month.

And all of that? It's all okay. I'm exhausted and sometimes I wear the same shirt five days in a row, Febreezing it before I put it on again in the morning, but I wouldn't trade this time with my little family for anything. We're doing this three-babes-under-seventeen-months thing, and amazingly, it's working for us. Sometimes I realize how happy I am, how much I love what I do and how worthwhile it is, and I'm overwhelmed. I know I'll miss this era when it's over.

On Breastfeeding & Closeness

Here's what I have to say:

I tried breastfeeding Max and Maggie. I really did. In the hours after they were born, I was so disappointed that I couldn't nurse them right away, but I understood that that's what happens when your babes are born seven weeks early and then get rushed off to the NICU before you can even get a good look at them. I was also excited and happy to provide them with breast milk, and proud when what I pumped nourished their tiny bodies so well.

We tried breastfeeding in the two weeks they stayed in the hospital, but our opportunities for nursing were scarce, and I wasn't brave enough to ask the nurses to help me often. My little babes were oh so fragile, and I was still cautious when I held them.

After we brought them home, we tried again. We visited a lactation consultant and made a plan for how to wean them off bottles. But nursing hurt like fire, like nothing I had ever experienced, and I cried and cried until I couldn't take it anymore and I pulled my babies away from me. I worried about not knowing exactly how much food they were getting. When we were so concerned with every little bit of weight gain, not being able to measure their intake was troublesome. And I was so tired. I felt like I couldn't try to do any more than I was doing. I could only survive.

Eventually we switched to formula. Christian said it was my decision, and I prayed to know what was right. What was best for us, as a family. I felt that I received the answer: formula is a good choice.



After hearing all that, you may not believe me when I say that I have strong feelings about breastfeeding. My mother taught me that breastfeeding is important, that breast milk is best for babies. I never doubted her; I had an incredibly hard time overcoming the guilt that came with my decision to give Max and Maggie formula. I knew that when the next baby came, we would try breastfeeding again.

When Lucy was born, she was fat. She was healthy, strong, and eager to eat. So much about her birth, the normalcy of her arrival and the sweet plumpness of her existence, healed the pain that was left in my heart after the experience of Max and Maggie's birth. She excelled at nursing instantly. The lactation consultants who visited our hospital room exclaimed over how well she did. I was happy. It was easy. We snuggled together in our hospital room and I smelled her fuzzy head when she slept on me.

I feel so lucky, so blessed that breastfeeding has been almost effortless for Lucy and me. It was painful at first {after one 40-minute feeding she left me bleeding}, and we're still working on discreet public nursing, but trying to breastfeed Max and Maggie felt like trying to run with my ankles tied together. Breastfeeding Lucy feels like flying.



So here it is, what I really want to say:

When we visited the lactation consultant for help with Max and Maggie, she gave us all kinds of literature. One pamphlet I remember was printed on yellow paper; it advocated the benefits of breastfeeding. I remember that pamphlet specifically because certain parts of it haunted me as I tried to make my decision about how to feed my first two children.

There was a quote in that pamphlet from a woman who said that she had breastfed some of her children and bottle-fed others. Because of the bonding that occurs during breastfeeding, she claimed she felt closer to the breastfed children than to the bottle-fed children.

Maybe you can understand why that would upset me, as a new mother. One who is trying to do what's best for her children and exhausting herself with the effort. I felt like I had failed. I was worried that I had permanently damaged my relationship with my Max and Maggie. I was worried that if I had more children, I would love them more.

But now I know for myself. I have breastfed a child and I have bottle-fed children and I can tell you because I know, I know that how you choose to feed your baby does not determine your relationship with them. I know because I look at Max and Maggie, my wonderful darling one-year-olds, and the love that I feel for them is unrestrained. After what the three of us have been through together, nothing could diminish our relationship.

Breastfeeding has brought Lucy and me closer, I know that, too. I'm grateful for that blessing.

But I think of that pamphlet now, and it seriously pisses me off.

Important Thoughts 27.0

27.1: I often hear other parents talk about how their children are "showing more personality" as they get older; for Max, this translates into "emphatically showing likes and dislikes that make no sense to anyone else." For example, Max likes: graham crackers, cords, piggyback rides, dumping out all the blocks, throwing foods we know he likes {grapes! What's wrong with grapes??} on the floor without even trying them, and dropping anything he can find in the fireplace {tonight I found a hair elastic, a plastic cup, a block, a grape stem, and one of the remotes in there}.

Max does NOT like: Daddy leaving for work in the morning, anyone ever opening a door to the outside without letting Max outside also, anyone ever going upstairs without letting Max upstairs also, not getting picked up when Mama's in the kitchen, not getting to eat whatever you're eating, not getting to play with whatever Maggie has, being given a sippy cup of an inferior color to the one that Maggie has been given {apparently he has determined a hierarchy of cup/lid color combinations and he'll refuse to drink until you give him the best available one}, and having anything taken away that he's not ready to give up yet {usually non-toy items he's found on the floor/ground and decided are his own; today it was a collection of sticks from the deck}. Do anything Max doesn't like and he'll either crawl after you sobbing or scream so loud it will cut you.



27.2: It's one of those weird truths of newborn babyhood, but there are only two times when Lucy has a blowout - within the first three minutes after I change her clothes, or never. Seriously, if an outfit makes it past those first three minutes, I could leave it on her for a week and it would stay clean. Guaranteed.

27.3: I've been re-watching the first three seasons of Grey's Anatomy {the only seasons I watched live, and in my opinion, the only seasons worth watching}, and I'm reminded of a few things. I'm reminded that I sometimes love cloudy, drizzly, perpetually depressing weather. I'm reminded that I love this soundtrack and I still have all the words to every song memorized. And finally, I'm reminded that I used to be really embarrassed by the word "penis." Like, really really embarrassed.

27.4: Can I set the record straight? I don't think Maggie and Lucy very much alike at all. AT ALL. I think they have the same eyes, and I think maybe they might have the same mouth, but with such different noses and head shapes and coloring, they turn out looking about as alike as Maggie and Max {which is to say, not very alike}. They're more like opposite babies. Check this picture out.



27.5: I find myself with this strange amount of free time where I don't have enough to get anything done, like clean my house or make dinner or get dressed or blog, but I do have enough to keep up with what's going on in everyone else's life via the social media. {I do blogs, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, but not Pinterest. Pinterest and I have kind of been taking a break lately, mostly because I go there and I look at everything and think, "But who even cares?" and then I find something else to do.} It's easy because I have my phone next to me almost always, so while I'm nursing or eating lunch or just while Max and Maggie are occupied doing something other than climbing on me, I can tap tap tap and be entertained.

And it's weird, because I've found myself checking my phone more and more often, hoping for some new e-mail or Instagram notification or Twitter mention to pop up. And why can't I go half an hour without glancing at my phone? It kind of grosses me out. On the one hand, I feel a little guilty that I'm even looking for a distraction while I'm nursing Lucy, because shouldn't we be bonding and stuff? But on the other, what am I supposed to do, just stare at her? {And really, that's not a rhetorical question - what am I supposed to do while breastfeeding?? I don't know. The lactation consultants didn't teach me in the hospital.} It's something I need to work on, this phone-dependence.

27.6: What kind of eggs are your favorite? And can you make them yourself? I've been cooking two over easy eggs for breakfast each morning, because I love dipping the runny yolk in buttered toast.