I May Not Survive

Really, I am not being over dramatic, I don't know if I will survive raising my middle child.  My last post was about this boy and I hate to write two in a row, oh my goodness, this boy is something else.

I read a book once that said to list all of your child's traits and then turn them into positive words.  For example, stubborn would be determined, hyperactive would be athletic, cry baby would be emotionally sensitive. Today I was trying to think of what would be the positive to 'sneaky'.  Honestly, I couldn't come up with one.

Since Micah learned to climb out of his crib he has been a challenge to keep in his room. I know that I should have bought a crib-tent and been done with it, but I read a story of a toddler who strangled themselves in the tent trying to climb out. Figured that would happen to Micah.  So, instead, we put Micah in a toddler bed, even though he was 2 years old and we had a newborn baby in the house.  For the next 4 months I fought with Micah every nap and bedtime.  He would sneak out of his room, creep downstairs and secretly watch TV, he found my lotion in the bedroom and gave himself a facial, he found the toilet to be quite entertaining.  We would 'joke' that with such a creaky, squeaky floor, Micah was like a stealth ninja. You never heard him leave his room or come down the stairs. All of a sudden you would turn around and there would be a blond head at your elbow.

Now, you may be thinking, where were your parenting skills? Natural consequences? Time-outs? Spanking?  Did you not realize you were the adult and he is a 2 year old child? Um, yes I did, and I will totally admit he kicked my butt. It didn't matter what the consequence was or what parenting strategy we tried, Micah still escaped his room.

Finally, a wise woman suggested a gate outside his door, a way to contain him but not going so far as to put a lock on his door. Considering I was paying her $125/hr. I felt this was advice worth taking.  The gate was a lifesaver. Kept Micah in his room and I could breath easy during naptime when I was juggling all 3 kids, and also know that once I put him in his room at bedtime I was off the clock.

Recently we took the gate off the door. He is 3 1/2 now, potty trained and so much more responsible. I should have seen the warning signs, but I still believed in the good of my child.  Earlier this week Micah snuck out and took a whole box of Qtips into his room. When I went to get him at 3:00, it was like a Qtip explosion happened in his room. Qtips were everywhere, in his bed, on the floor, on the dresser, in Jack's bed. Some were whole, some were broken, and some were wet from being chewed on.  Serious consequences ensued, plus lots of crying. I felt like we were finally getting somewhere with this one.

Until today.  I was busy making dinner, cleaning up, talking to Jack. I had to get the boys up early and into the car at 2:00, so no sleeping for me!  It was so quite upstairs that I assumed Micah was asleep. Imagine my surprise when I went to get Micah up and found him hiding under his blanket. Micah, I said, what are you doing? No answer. That normally means trouble. I take off the blanket and find him in the fetal position hiding something under him. What now? I thought.

A BOX OF MATCHES

Seriously. Micah snuck of the room, went into the bathroom, on top of the dresser, to the little bowl in the back and found a box of matches I had mistakenly left there.  Matches were all over the bed. It was all I could do to not start yelling.  SAFETY ISSUE! I told him. He did not seem to care.  I called his dad, who said, "I think he needs to be spanked". I looked at Micah just grinning, not caring that he had just been playing in his bed amongst flammable blankets with a box of matches.  I did not feel spanking was going to be a good option right then because I was pretty upset.

Fast forward an hour.  We have established the consequences removed certain items from Micah's bedroom, and informed him he was going to bed right after dinner.

I swear to god this is what he said to me:
"Am I going to have playtime?" "NO"
"I don't like playtime"
"Am I going to have snack?" "NO"
"I don't like snack"
"Am I going to have a show?" "NO, no show, no snack, no playtime with daddy, no stories, no snuggles. You are in TROUBLE"
"Good, I don't like stories or playtime or snack or snuggles"

"Fine", I say. Then in a moment of awesome parenting I say: "Jack do you want to watch a movie tonight and eat popcorn?"  Of course he does! Can Micah?  NO

Micah: "I don't like movies and I'm not hungry for popcorn I ate enough at lunch. I just want to go to my room and go to bed. I like being in my room alone."

This one is going to be the death of me. I swear.

The Good Thing About Boys

When I had Finn (and yes I still have baby fever) and knew we would be a boy heavy family, I started a list in my head of the good things about having boys.

Some are obvious:

• No worries if a bathroom is unavailable
• No one to fight over the bathroom with
• I will (hopefully) always be the prettiest in the family

And of course:

• The lack of whining

Not that there is no whining at all, it just didn't seem to be as high in volume and frequency as little girls.  I was used to crazy energy, loud yelling, wrestling matches, and tantrums at about an 11, with my oldest son.  But he didn't really whine. 

Then along came this one:

And, OMG, does he whine. If you know this boy, this might shock you, but he has a total and complete monopoly on whining.  It doesn't seem to matter what it is: his brother took his toy, it's nap-time, he can't have dessert until he eats dinner, his sock feels wrong, his shoe is too tight, his brother got into the car first, dad tried to buckle his carseat, the water is draining from the tub, mom laid down with his brother first, he didn't get to pick the show, the list could go on and on.  Whatever the cause is, the outcome is the same. It starts out with just a little whine to his voice but quickly escalates into unintelligible, high pitched, sounds coming from this little body.

I love this boy. He is so me. The middle child, the one who most looks like me, and seems to have a very similar temperament.  No matter how much I love him and want to squeeze him and kiss on him, as soon as the whine appears, it is like fingernails on the chalkboard.

I know this too shall pass.  Definitely, by the time he is 15 and his voice changes, if not before. Today though, I shall have to think of a new item to add to my list.  No whining has been removed.  

I could add:

• Likes to eat boogers

But I'm not sure that is specific to boys.

What's Wrong With You?

That is the question my husband asked me today.  I think he framed it more politely, as in, "Are you feeling okay?"  But the underlying message was the same.

He asked this question after I said I was exhausted.  I think he was concerned because I was in bed last night by 10:00 and didn't get out of bed until 7:30 this morning. I will even admit that Brandon was up before me, even though I said I would totally get up with the baby today.  And yes, that is also admitting that I am not usually the one to get up first. Brandon totally wins the award for best husband in the "Getting up with the baby first" award. But whatever.

I did sleep well, woke up feeling good, but by 1:00 I was tired. Not just tired, exhausted. Wanted to either go lie down and sleep or cry. Either one would be okay.

When Brandon asked me if I was okay, my response was something like this: "Have you MET my kids?!" I would like to say that I actually said that in a nice polite way, but I didn't. It was pretty much exactly like that.

I have a 5 year old who only wants to watch TV, suck his thumb and rub his blanket, a 3 year old who cries if anyone even thinks of touching his stuff, and a 1 year old who is refusing naps.  After 4 hours of playing, cleaning, feeding, changing laundry, coloring, wiping butts, picking up, mediating fights, I was tired.

I don't think there is anything wrong with me, that a month long vacation sans kids couldn't fix.  But that is not the stage of life we are in. Instead I will take the next 2 hours, sit at a coffee shop, read, write, stalk blogs, drink coffee and breathe deep.  When I walk in the door, the kids will still be there, the to-do list will still be long, and the feeling of exhaustion will creep back.

But right now, Jimmy Eat World is playing on Pandora, I've got a latte in a real cup, and am taking a moment for myself.

Did You Hear the One?

Did you hear the one about two bats and a parrot who walk into a bar?

No, well, me neither. I just think they are pretty cute.

 Happy Halloween!

I Didn't Mean to Scare You

With the last post, I mean.  I was not making an ANNOUNCEMENT. Well, I was but in a different way.

I heard from a few of you that I thought I was going to say: "Baby #4 is on the way!" Truly that was not my intent.  In fact, it was the complete opposite. I wanted it to be recorded loud and clear that there will be: No. More. Baby. Lonacs.

What I was hoping to accomplish in my last post was to make sure everyone knew where we were at in our family size (MOM!).  From now on if I say "Guess What?" I do not want the first response to be: "You're Pregnant!!"  We are 99.9% sure we will not be having any more babies. So, please, put that far far from your mind.

I still remember sitting in a friends house one night, when a good friend made an announcement. "Guess what?" She said. No responses from us sitting there. "T. is going to be a big sister!"  Seeing as how her baby was 5 months old, my first thought was: "You're getting a dog?"  Obviously that did not make sense, but I couldn't imagine that the next words were going to be: "I'm pregnant!" That was a complete shock.

So for future reference (mostly this means you, mom) when I make an announcement, I hope the first thing you think of is: "Oh, they are getting another dog."

When Finn Turned 1

When Finn turned 1, I was desperate for another baby.  I knew his first birthday would be hard.  The last time we would do these specific traditions, but I didn't realize how much I would WANT another baby.  It was more then just "my baby is getting big" phase. I wanted to have four kids.

Since Finn was born I have been asked over and over "Are you going to try for a girl?" I would just laugh and say, "Do you think I would have a girl? 4 boys seem like a lot." But when Finn turned 1, I didn't care. 4 boys, 3 boys and a girl, 3 boys and twins. I would take any of it, I just wanted to have another baby.

On his birthday Brandon even was feeling some twinges of baby dreaming. When we were celebrating Finn's birthday with my family my grandma asked if we were done.  We looked at each other and smiled. Maybe not, I was thinking. Maybe we will have one more. I was giddy with the prospect of being pregnant, giving birth, holding one more little bitty baby.

But then we went camping. 3 days after Finn turned 1, we were sleeping in the tent trailer on the first of our marathon camping summer. Between the camping experience and Finn learning to walk, I changed my mind.

It wasn't just that 4 kids would be a lot, I don't think I could handle one more.  Finn was in the fire pit, trying to climb the slippery log, chasing after his brothers. I was exhausted.  The best part of the trip was when I fell asleep trying to get Finn to take a nap and stayed asleep. Otherwise, chasing the 3 boys around the campsite was exhausting, fun, but exhausting.

Now, we have only 1 boy in diapers. Everyone is walking. I only have to grab my purse when I leave the house. This is good.  I still miss being pregnant, I will really miss nursing, and I even miss going to the hospital to deliver the baby. I truly loved the experience having babies gave me and I will miss that.

But it is time to move on.  Look at the next stage where we are not focused on feeding schedules, nap-times, which parent is on point.  But can start to do more things as a family, go hiking, even biking, play games together.  This is good, I know it is.

 So, no more Lonac babies.  

Snip, snap, snout, this tales told out.  

Who Knew?

On my 30th birthday I did not have a fancy party, in fact, the actual day was spent driving to Grants Pass, OR and eating take-out in a motel.  But I did say that I was going to do something big when I turned 30. I narrowed it down to either, a tattoo, or fixing the gap in my front teeth.  Obviously, I chose the tattoo.  I loved my gap in my teeth, had always considered it to be kind of a family trait. One of my cousins on my dad's side has an even bigger gap. So, when I look at mine, I think of my dad's family and it feels like one more little connection.

Now I am turning 35, well not until next April, and the gap seems to be bigger then ever. It is in fact growing.  I asked my dentist and he confirmed that it was bigger and will continue to get bigger. This has caused me some serious anxiety. Maybe I should get it fixed now.  Close the gap, so to speak.

Then tonight I saw this.  Well, there you go. I think I am back in love with my gap.  It is not wide enough to hold a cigarette in, but it is handy as a straw holder.  I think I am going to have to find that documentary, a whole movie focused on 'gaptoothed' women?

Honey, I'm throwing away the night retainer, gaptoothed women are styling! Who Knew??!