Sloppy

There's a girl I know from high school and I'm 100% sure she doesn't read this blog so I can be frank. I just saw this girl at the grocery store. And, as always, not only were her two boys quiet and well behaved, she looked great. Great outfit, hair blown dry, make up, the whole nine yards. She drives the car I want and she's skinny. Now, without a doubt every time I see this girl, I am without makeup, have not showered and a little bigger than I was in high school...and that's not pregnant. Today, I have the pregnancy crop top going on where my belly creeps out of every shirt I wear. I was also teetering with a small crop of groceries in my hands and tugging and nagging at Declan, who was wearing his Halloween jammies at noon. Yes, I should have put him in the shopping cart, even for just a few items (that's what she did). And usually I can make some sort of excuse for my hectic presentation. But today...I just felt sloppy.

She is the representation of everything I wish I could be: in control, looking good, and fit. Instead, I can barely stand to take Declan anywhere these days because my energy level is so low. Trust me, there's nothing I would be prouder of than to be one of those women who exercise all pregnancy, gain the minimum amount of weight, and look great all the time. But those things couldn't be more opposite from my pregnancy experiences, especially this one. I'm crampy, uncomfortable, massive, and tired.

I know I'm creating a wonderful life inside me, and I wouldn't give up the gift that Oooh will be for anything, even a perfect body and wardrobe. And I read today that the key to happiness is gratitude. So I know I need to be grateful for this little boy. There are so many women who are struggling with difficult pregnancies or even getting pregnant at all, so I don't want to diminish how lucky I am, I think I'm just getting to that place where I want my body back, my energy back, and to return to "normal".

Wait, what was that you said? Oh yeah, normal isn't even close to happening anytime soon. As soon as Oooh comes there's the sleepless nights, spit up, worrying about SIDS and pacifiers and what foods I eat that could give him gas. Not to mention recovering from birth and adjusting to having two kids to take care of once my husband goes back to work and is gone again every week.

Wasn't I saying something about being grateful? Maybe I'll let myself feel bad today and tomorrow I'll be grateful. Yeah, that sounds good. Now I need another cookie.

Let's Pretend

Awhile ago, I wrote about the difference between being pregnant the first time, and now being pregnant with a 2 1/2 year old. And the floor is officially my sworn enemy. But Declan exists on the floor. We play blocks, in the sandbox, and with his beloved farm all on the effing floor. And my awkward roll-to-the-left-then-on-all-fours way of getting up is becoming embarrassing. But I have no choice because, as I've already said, it's really not about me this time. There's cleaning and cooking and playing to do, and it's not going to happen while I have my feet up on the couch.

On the plus side, the little boy in my tummy is getting bigger and bigger and the day when we get to meet him is coming right up. I'm not sure how Declan's going to take it, especially because when I told him I was going to have to hold the baby a lot, Declan said "no, you are going to hold me". Luckily, Rich will be here for six weeks and that should give us all a chance to adjust.

But once Rich goes back to work, it's going to be just me four days a week. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not terrified. I forget though that Rich started traveling every week Monday through Friday when Declan was five months old and I survived that. And frankly, I have to remember how good I have it. I can stay home with my boys, we live in a safe neighborhood, and if I need to survive through babysitters and take out, I won't be breaking my budget. Life could be worse. In fact it is for about 95% of the world. For me, perspective is the key to being grateful. How easy it is to only compare yourself to people who "have it easier". That, I've discovered is the key to unhappiness.

But enough of the affirmations, this blog is about Declan, and he does not disappoint. I'm sure I've said this thousands of times, but he continually blows my mind. He loves to sing the Caillou theme song, but knows none of the words. The sandbox equals naked time. Seriously, it's like Pavlov's dog. He heads toward the sandbox while stripping and will throw a massive fit if he's required to leave any of his clothes on. And we're in the asking questions phase. Except with Declan, he just repeats the same question about 10 times until you've formulated your answer. This one is not waiting for answers, and he's afraid you'll forget what he asked .5 seconds ago.

And he's finally started to grasp pretend. Usually it will confuse him a little, like when we ask him if he's a frog (or Curious George or a choo choo, etc.) and he'll look at you very seriously and say, "no, I'm not a frog, I'm a boy". But he loves to prepare lunch for Rich and I to eat and this morning he wanted to know what kind of animal each piece of his waffle was. I love two! Aside from the tantrums (which are plentiful), it's just really fun to sit and have a conversation with my son.

We've had a great month so far, Rich had surgery and has been home for a week and a half now. And there's nothing better than seeing how happy Declan is when Rich is home. There's just a sense of contentment that is missing when Daddy is gone. There's nothing that makes me happier than when Declan turns to me and tells me to go away, he just wants to be with Daddy.

Now we're just biding our time until Thanksgiving when Rich will work from home until baby Oooh comes in mid-December. Then, we'll have some family time for six weeks while Rich is home for his paternity leave. This year, we'll have a lot to be thankful for.

T-Rex

See if you can find these lyrics:

T-Rex, I'm a tyrannosaurus

I'm the biggest carnivore in the Cretaceous forest

I like to romp and stomp around.

Two weeks ago, we went on vacation to Hilton Head. We realized that a family vacation probably won't happen until (at the earliest) late next year, so we wanted to take one last three member family vacation (although Oooh was there in my tummy) before new baby comes.

And it was fun! I say this with an exclamation point because it very well could have been a complete disaster, as other trips have been. I'll never forget taking 10 month old Declan to LA and him waking up at 4:30 every morning. We were so exhausted from lack of sleep and trying to keep a screaming child quiet so he wouldn't wake up the rest of the house that I don't exactly remember what else we did.

But this was actually a perfect little family trip. In addition to swimming, we went canoeing, dolphin watching, biking and built sandcastles on the beach. Declan actually started laughing out loud the first time we walked on the beach. If only I could take such joy in little pleasures like that. There were tons of kids, and a clown came down to the pool every day. Declan was both fascinated and terrified of her and would demand to go see the clown only to shyly ask me if I'd go and say hello to her. She was, by the way, a brash jersey grandma with a wig and makeup. Cappy was her name.

We also succeeded in getting Declan to go to sleep with Rich and I in the room, which we were terrified about. Because without sleep, no one is having any fun. But Declan surprised us by accepting "his bed" and snoozing away.

But since we've been home, Declan has been fighting off a virus and after waking up before 5:00am for most of the week (along with mom, who really has no choice) and throwing fits for everything from me using the wrong plate for his waffles (the horror!) to having a meltdown over me walking into his room, we went to the doctor. It's nothing serious, just a mild virus, but it's been big enough to disrupt everything in our little world. No moms day out, no playgroups, just me and my cranky kiddo.

I love you all the time

Little Corcoran will be here in less than four months. And this baby, while he will be as loved and cherished as Declan, hasn't made quite the impact on my psyche as Declan did. There's just nothing like being pregnant for the first time. Everything was about me. I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted. I felt completely entitled to any emotional outburst or demand because I was going through something so profound. We agonized over Declan's name, took all kinds of classes, and I studied up feverishly on all things baby. I made my birth plan and researched cribs. Rich and I planned out how we'd tackle the first weeks. I spent hours and hours picking out baby bedding. The baby was ushering in a whole new world of things we'd decide and every decision was a huge one.

There was nothing as transformative for me as the year after Declan was born. And while I spent the first few months in the new mom perfection bubble trying to do everything I so staunchly believed was all important: breast feeding, sleep training, cuddling, and I'd even try to read my two month old books because I read that if I watched TV with him it could stunt his mental growth. This was my time. These were my decisions, and like when I was pregnant, everything was a do or die decision, everything was of the utmost importance.

And I think that's where the mom superiority thing comes in. You know those moms who spout their convictions like water, thinking their opinions are facts because they read them somewhere. They create hierarchies of good and bad parenting based on what a book tells them, and you only hear about it when they need to inform you of the "right" way. Oh, I think you know who I'm talking about. It's inevitable with such an important task that it becomes a consuming, polarizing experience that for some evolves into lecturing and a laughable haughtiness that can only come from a mother.

And the biggest thing I've learned in the past two years is what kind of mom I am. And, how to adapt to circumstance. My son is a flaming ball of energy, love, and demands. And I think if I'd have clung onto the idea of any kind of perfection, I would be miserable. I just don't do perfection, I don't have a perfect body, or perfect hair or completely groomed nails all the time. Why would I expect myself to completely transform into some idea of what is the "best" way to be?

So, this time around, my newborn will probably be "enriched" less but will have the benefit of a mom who can see the wisdom of imperfection, adaptation, and going with the flow. Yes, Declan was the only naked swimmer (with a life vest) at a play group this week and he did make a firetruck siren sound at the top of his lungs through Dillon's yesterday, but fighting those things takes more than it's worth. At least that's the kind of mom I am. I pick my battles. And, frankly, I lose some of them too. But at least what my kids will get is something genuine and not someone else's idea of perfection.

And just for some giggles, the next Justin Timberlake:

So this is why...

I wanted a girl so badly: I love my sister. She is probably the only person besides Rich and Declan that I can stand to be around 24/7. I don't get to see her or share ice cream or watch Project Runway or shop with her enough. I look forward to her visits for months and afterward, spend hours on the phone with her every week. I'm a sister addict. And this is how I envisioned my relationship with my own daughter. Me, me, me.

But now that I'm a mom, sometimes it's not about me. Ha! It's never about me, come on. And I'm starting to realize that the brother relationship between Oooh and Declan could be as close as mine with Jess. Not that it's always been this way. Back in the late 80's/Debbie Gibson era, Jessica was the absolute coolest and I was her super dork little sister. I'll never forget when she and her friend Jennifer caught me practicing my New Kids moves in the mirror and mocked me mercilessly for hours. Or when she found my secret diary, read it, and then wrote a response letting me know that the boy I secretly loved couldn't possibly love me back because he never called (I was in second grade, I think). Oh the shame! And I think brothers can be worse.


But, if Declan's utter devotion and affection for his cousin Charlie is any indication of what type of brother he'll be, this little kiddo is in major luck. Declan has come a long way in eight months. He can take turns, he shares, overall he's a really sweet friend these days. And you would have thought Declan had found his two year old soul mate in Charlie. Every morning Declan woke up before Charlie (and everyone else in the house, dammit) and I had to hold him off for at least 45 minutes before I'd let him into see Charlie. And then he'd lay right next to Charlie, practically nose to nose. To which Charlie inevitably cracked and then closed his eyes tight, pretending to still be sleeping. Then Dec would lay there and say over and over again,
"wake up Charlie, let's go plaaaaay". Every morning for 10 days. Never did he want to just hang out with me. Never had he had enough of his cousin. And now, even six days after they left, he is still asking where Charlie is and when he's coming back.


There are dozens of funny stories I could tell about the cousins: jumping on the bed naked, giving hugs and kisses, riding in the shopping cart together, that effing firetruck book they both had to have all the time, but I have to say my favorite thing was just watching Declan's enthusiasm for his guest. Now by the end, D was definitely less controlled, more grabby, and exhausted in general, but as far as he's concerned, Charlie is his buddy. Hopefully Char feels the same and Dec isn't his nerdy, New Kid loving little cousin. The good news is that if he is, Declan will just tackle him and pin him down until he agrees to be friends. You can tame the beast, but sometimes nature just takes over.

Oh BOY!

I grew up in a female family. My dad was in my life, but day in day out I lived with my mom and my sister. And we did girly things. We shopped and cried, we took dance and voice lessons, and we thought farts and burps were gross. I even had two step sisters for 10 years, adding to my girly existence. Boys were a mystery to me. So much so that I spent most of my teens with debilitating long distance crushes. I always envied my friends who seemed to be able to relate to boys without any sense of fear. I was terrified. Cut to 15 years later, and I've just found out I'm having my second boy. So I've gone from boys being exotic and unrelatable to them being the only people in my immediate family circle.

When I envisioned myself as a mother, it was always, always with girls. Two girls that would be sisters who I could shop, cry, dance, and sing with. So when I found out Ooooh was a boy, I had my moment. Not only would I not have the two girls I envisioned, I won't have any. All the ways I imagined my motherhood going are now officially off the table.

There is a special kind of mourning that happens when what you believe will be your future becomes impossible. But, that's all it ever was. I was mourning an idea, not a real person, not a real relationship. I'll never get to do pigtails or pick out pink outfits and tutus and barbies. But along with any wistful hope out the window comes a fierce protectiveness for Ooooh and how much I love him already. I would never be upset at anything he is. Part of being a mother is the awe and adoration you feel for your children, and Ooooh is no exception. I won't have pigtails, but I will have him. And beyond a fantasy, I know to the depths of my being that I would never, ever trade the things that he will bring for what a little girl could. I am officially a boy mom, and I couldn't be prouder.

And my husband is a second boy. His parents were going to name him Amanda Lynn if he was a girl and I'm sure they felt the same sadness over their idea of what she was going to be like. But they got Rich instead, and I've never met anyone like him. I can only hope that Ooooh will be half as kind, selfless, smart, and handsome as his second son daddy.

So, what was once a mystery is now my reality. I can't wait to meet you, Ooooh.

Ooooh

Most of the baby books I've read say to wait to tell your child about your pregnancy until the last month. They simply don't understand the concept and will be confused.

But me, well I had to explain to Declan that there was a baby in there so he'd stop pouncing on me. He loves to "bop" and will say "Mommy, I want bop on you?" with a slight swing upward on the word you. He's learning how to ask questions. And sometimes he doesn't ask. He also doesn't ask when he head butts my stomach or drops an elbow on it. My son is not subtle nor does he understand the concept that hitting Mommy isn't a completely normal thing to do once every two minutes.

So, out of necessity, Rich and I explained that there was a baby in there so Declan couldn't hit Mommy's tummy. Then we asked him what he thought the baby's name should be. "Oooh" he said right away. And the baby became "Oooh" (as in Oooh and Aaah). He named two leopards in his book Tub and Dew, so I think Oooh is as good of a choice as we're going to get.

Then, we started to talk about what it will be like when he has a little brother or sister. We talked about how they can throw balls to each other and play together in the playroom. Then we kissed him and said good night with sweet smiles on our faces. Ten minutes later, Declan walked out of his room and called down to us: "we throw balls to each other?". And he spent the next twenty minutes or so in complete mind blowing excitement about having a playmate. Still, a week later at the most random times, he'll turn to me and say "Oooh play in my play room?". And tonight right before bed he said "Oooh gets the little swing". Yep, and Declan gets the big boy swing.

But I wanted to make sure he understood that there would be quite awhile between when Oooh comes (we explain it as when Santa gets here, Oooh will be here too) and when it's big enough to play. And afterward, Dec looked at me and said "I hold Oooh?", "I give Oooh kiss?". I mean...The Notebook tugs no heartstrings like a two year old's earnest heart.

Sometimes mommyhood is simply divine. We'll go ahead and skip my sleepless, cranky days this week and focus on what a sweetheart Declan is. I'm excited for my ultrasound next Friday. Not only will we hopefully find out the sex, but Declan will get to see Oooh. I can't wait.

Potty Training Side Effects

So Declan is now officially in the repeating stage. I whispered "damn it" a few feet from him the other day and for the next five minutes listened to "damn it" on repeat. He doesn't usually (and I say usually because this isn't the first bad word that my little angel has been exposed to) remember bad words much after the repeating time, but "stupid lady" has become a part of his vocabulary. I've heard that kids are mirrors and show us what we're really like. I'm becoming a supporter of this theory. Because, well, I say "stupid lady" a lot. But before Declan started repeating it, I would have vehemently denied ever saying that phrase. But my little mirror has shown me that I do in fact think lots of random ladies are stupid.

They say you learn something new every day. And in addition to repeating, Declan is coming up with his own ideas. Mostly they center around narrating everyday life, "we're going down a hill, mommy" or "Declan has milk in his stomach". But since we're potty training, some of it revolves around poop. Who am I kidding? We talk a lot about poop these days. And Declan has dropped some gems. I already talked about how he pooped on the couch, a highlight of my motherhood so far, but now he tells me he wants to poop all sorts of places: in his hand and in the yard are front runners.

My mom had two daughters. I remember her telling me with some disgust that one of my cousins had spread poop on the wall in his room when he was little. This could explain any trouble he ever got in. The poop was a sure sign that something was messed up there. And if this is the truth, I'm screwed! Declan will be a delinquent by 11! He had his own poop spreading incident a few months ago and now he's saying he wants to poop in his hand.

So maybe I shouldn't announce this on the internet. But why would I have a blog and not tell the truth? This world isn't just made up of picture perfect parents and children. Some parents have kids who use a pacifier until three, and some have kids who love to talk about all the places they'd love to poop.

Oh, and he decided to tell Rich and I the other day that "Daddy likes to poo poo in his underwear".

I try to be very firm and let Declan know that touching poop in any way is yucky and that poop belongs in a diaper or in the potty. But, when Declan dropped that Daddy bomb (which, for clarification, was completely out of nowhere) the floodgates opened and the tears started flowing. In fact, for the next week, whenever I thought about it, I'd break into giggles. Maybe Declan won't be a criminal, maybe he'll be a comdedian.

Baby and Me

I got two requests to start my blog again. I'm vain and easily flattered, so here I am.

So, I still have a two year old. And although he is occasionally prone to lying on the floor, overcome with emotion at the shear audacity of me saying something like "let's get in the car" or "no more juice", mostly two is an age I'm really loving.

Declan's always been, let's say...assertive, but now he's a straight up ornery little stinker. I love it. Tonight at the restaurant, Declan dropped his milk and instead of asking me or Rich to pick it up for him, he scanned the crowd and, making eye contact with anyone who would look back, began loudly announcing "everybody, I dropped my milk, everybody!" over and over again at the top of his lungs while searching the crowd for new friends. Because what's happening with him is, and should be, front page news at all times. If he can get an audience of strangers, he will let them in on every aspect of his life.

This week, on our way to the wading pool, we passed two men sitting on a bench. They were, um let's say, really enjoying their Wednesday afternoon. And they noted what a cute little kiddo I had with me. And Declan, basking in these drunk strangers' attention, let them know the most important development in his recent life. He turned to them and proudly announced, "I pooped on the couch" (he did) and while the men and I were laughing, he put the cherry on the stranger sundae and announced "and Mommy cleaned it up" (I did). Awesome. But it was not the end. After a full hour at the pool, we were traipsing back to the car, when we passed the drunkards' bench again. They, of course, remembered us. And Declan, he remembered them too. He approached the bench and pointed and started in again "I pooped on the couch!" he yelled. But I pulled him away before he could revisit the part about me cleaning it up. I could hear the men giggling all the way back to our car. I was completely sure that was the story from the day that they'd be bringing home. Buuuut, as I loaded Declan in the car, alas, they were being cuffed and stuffed into a cop car. I really hope it was for public drunkenness. But I'm still seriously contemplating getting a leash.

Because in December there will be two. Two Corcoran kids! I'll have to rename the blog. Right now it would be The Declan and Baby in My Belly Report. What do you think?

I am 14 weeks now and finally starting to feel better, although I did have to run out on Fox In Sox mid tongue twister to go throw up last week. I'm hoping that's the last time. Other than that, I've been really exhausted and poor Declan has watched way more TV than I care to admit. So feeling better is a really big deal around here. Mostly for Rich who has done the other half of the week's single parenting while I've been laid up in bed.

And when the baby comes, Rich will be home for two months, but then it will be back to normal. Which, for us, means Rich gone Monday through Thursday. Yes, I am already freaked out about how I will possibly get enough sleep or have enough energy to survive those early months. But, I'll have to do what I always do: get through it. There are a lot worse things in this world than having two children to take care of. I can do it. I may not be climbing up the corporate ladder, but I'm getting a crash course in management, let me tell you. And if all else fails, I'll get a nanny. Or maybe just a lot of take out.

I'll leave you with my favorite Declan quotes:


"I know, I know! How about...pretzels?" (at snack time)

"I'm being silly" (while laying on the floor flailing his arms and kicking his legs) Oh, and "silly" is pronounced "slilly"

"Declan gets a chocolate milk and a cookie" (right as Dec and Rich walk into Target while pointing to the Starbucks)

"Ryan, where are you, Ryan?" (after we saw his friend Ryan at Target and he walked off with his mom. This was also at the top of his lungs and repeated for five straight minutes)

Until Next Time...

2

On Thursday, my baby will be two. I love two! There are tantrums, yes, but there are also conversations and giggles and understanding. This morning, Declan told me "another one" when he was done with his waffle (he also had waffles for dinner last night) and was able to pick out his first pair of shoes.



And although he was immensely disappointed that he couldn't get the gold girls' flats with the jewel on them or the blue Keds with gold stars on them, he loves these shoes so much that he refused to take them off when he had his nap yesterday. We got two pairs, and he's been taking turns trying on the "red shoes" and the "blue shoes". This morning he chose the blue ones. It's so fun to see which things he likes and how he expresses his individuality. Right now, jammies, shoes, and coats are in and clothes that are starting to get too small are way out. He gets so frustrated when a sleeve is not exactly at his wrist. I can see the face scrunching up and the screams getting ready to come out. This is why we are doing early spring shopping. I don't want to be deaf within the next year.



On the flip side (there's always a flip side), Declan is now learning to take his clothes and diapers off and on. I bet you think this is a good thing...and it is, if your son isn't an evil genius. Because two weeks ago, I went to get Declan in the morning and found he'd taken off his diaper and spread poop on the door and carpet around him all the while saying "poo poo, yucky". After a very stressful morning involving showers, scrubbing, and lots and lots of hand washing, I decided it was time to try potty training. And D did great the next weekend with his first two successful potties. And then...nothing. Not interested, not in the m&ms, special potty books, and all the celebrations involved. So I'm not pushing, just hoping that he'll inch toward that potty again soon. Until then, I am on constant diaper alert. Can't wait until summer when he can frolic naked in the yard.

Love You Deckie

Declan is going through one of my favorite times right now. He's just soaking up words and I love that now I can tell when he's really excited about something. Now, this may be the revelation that Mommy's car is in the garage which is under his room (that was a serious blow-your-mind moment in this little boy's world) or that we saw a "big plane" at the airport. He's also pretty great with colors, yellow being his favorite.

He loves to specify which-like the red socks he was obsessed with last night, and is putting together ideas incessantly. Like those red socks last night, they were wet, which is why they were sitting on the dresser. When I told him they were wet he said "water, socks, wet". Now this may sound incredibly simple to you, but the fact that he was telling me that he understands what wet means makes me just as proud as if he knew the whole alphabet.

He's also forming attachments to places, things, and people. And while he's not yet the most suave baby I know, I love that he's becoming social. Declan's a little clumsy and over-friendly, he likes to give kisses and hugs and, let's face it, not everyone likes that. But I'd rather he be overly friendly than uninterested or shy. It brings a lot of challenges and opportunities to explain, for the fourth time that day, that people like soft touches and hi fives rather than tackles and slaps. He's doing better on the slaps, which are embarrasing and I intervene every single time I see, but the other over-touches...I may have a controversial view on those.

I'm a big fan of natural consequences and I think it's okay for a kid to tell Declan to stop and push him down or move his hand or, frankly, slap him right back. My thoughts are that if he's not hurting anyone, he'll learn better if he gets a little dose of his own medicine than he will if I constantly intervene.

But sometimes I feel like other parents who don't have children with this issue tend to judge, I know I did before I dealt with this. I thought that if a kid was a little aggressive it was because the parents weren't doing all they could. Now I know people with experience with toddlers say that most of them go through this, but I swear sometimes it feels like he's the only one. And I try to have faith in Declan's sweetness and smarts and give him the benefit of the doubt instead of labeling him or bemoaning his social development.


On a good note, Declan's never been more affectionate. He loves to give me hugs and kisses and commonly asks for my hand and to sit in my lap. The thing I have to most remind myself is to be so grateful for this time with my baby boy. To kiss him and love him and be patient with him while he figures out how to navigate this big, big world.

Please and Thank You

By now we've got this traveling thing down. And even though Rich is gone Monday through Thursday, he completely makes up for it on his weekends home. I would say that Rich is a more goal oriented parent than me. He's the one who was all for sleep training, I wasn't so sure. And voila! it worked out great. He also taught Declan to put away his books each night before bed. Another idea that really hadn't occurred to me. And, most recently, he's taught Dec to say please and thank you, which of course come out pee and datou.

So we've been practicing saying please before he asks for snack and drinks, and for some reason instead of saying please and then whatever item he wants, he says please Dada and please Mama. It's pretty cute.

Cut to our last outing to the store. I've already confessed that we take advantage of all of its offerings. Free cookies make my life easier. And occasionally, we'll get the free balloon. We had Halloween ghost balloon until the day before Christmas. That thing was a trooper! But back to the store. Rich and I decided to split up so that Declan could run around. We've been snowed in all break, so these are the kinds of outings we design for our child. People love it when he shrieks and zooms through the store. Just love it.

So, I was shopping and Rich came to hand off Dec, who seems to be able to locate me with his toddler sensor no matter where we are. Bringing along a box of Cheerios he had found, Declan grabbed my hand and before I knew it, I was being tugged toward the back of the store. It took a moment, but I realized he was saying "Please, Mama; please, Mama" frantically while purposefully marching me toward the cookies. Turns out that's exactly what he'd done to Rich the moment they walked in. You gotta give it to him, he's got perseverance down pat.

He's actually exploded with his two word phrases lately, and that's been a lot of fun. Dada nap, poo poo yucky, and Mama wine are three frequently used in my house. Yep, wine is a frequent occurrence. But you knew that already, didn't you? The best is when he says "Wine!" and then solemnly, "Baby" because I always say wine is for mommies, not babies. It's an important message. Up there with learning to pick up after yourself and say please and thank you. Don't think that I don't add my own wisdom to this family. I do. It is so important that babies stay away from wine. Maybe they should do a PSA about it. That's a message that really needs to be emphasized across the country. I'm definitely on to something here.

'Tis the Season

to be crazy...



So it's been awhile. Not sure what I've been doing that has kept me away, but I'm back. Whew. Going through my stack of stories, and there are some good ones, and deciding what to share. Gym pooping and social ostracism or bungee cord door?

Let's go with the cord. It's the most recent.

So, Dec figured out how to get out of his crib awhile ago. And I was very proud of my fabulous mothering when he did what I asked him immediately and cut that shit off. But you know what I say about pride. It'll always come back on you.

And last week it did. Wednesday, Declan didn't nap. He got out of bed every time he got the chance and came down to meet me in the living room. I figured it was a fluke.

Thursday, I heard a rustling in the monitor, turned, opened my eyes slightly and found a big, round face. "Mama". He didn't bother to call for me, probably because coming directly to the source is much easier. Nap time came and went and no nap occurred. Then bedtime which only took a few upstairs trips, and then he was out.

Now, it's important to note that Declan is a rock star sleeper. After a rough start, he is like clockwork. But I've learned that I took a lot for granted. Because at 11:30 on Thursday, 30 minutes before Rich gets home from Philadelphia, I heard a rustling and a wide awake Declan came down to meet me.

To tell the truth, I was actually a little excited. Rich travels every week and never gets to see Declan when he comes home. This would be a special treat. So I brought D into our room and lay him in our bed. I figured if he wanted to be with me so badly that he was refusing his own room, maybe he could take a little nap and Rich could come home to a little surprise.

12:30 came and went, no Rich. And no sleep for Declan who decided he wanted to roll around, yell doggie, touch my nose, and giggle at nothing. So let's get this straight: Declan can escape his room (and don't even mention the door handle thingies, Declan promptly takes those bitches apart and throws them on the floor), and comes down the stairs at every chance he gets, but will not go to sleep next to mommy.

So...how is he going to sleep, ever! I called Rich to ask where he was and it turns out that he was having his own problems. On the coldest night of the year, -6, Rich not only had a dead battery in the airport parking lot, but on his way home, got a flat tire on 435. And when he got home at 2:30am it was to Declan and I on the couch. D not quite asleep, but getting there.

So, being the trooper he is, he scooped Declan up and put him in his bed; only to be met with rustling a few minutes later when D ditched the bed and went down where the action was.

So at this point, D has lost seven hours of sleep. This kid is a mess. He did the silent cry because he wanted a goldfish and didn't get it. The silent cry.

It was a long weekend.

Friday afternoon, Declan did nap for about an hour. We transformed the bed and put on the toddler rails thinking that if he escaped he'd at least be able to get back in. And we put a gate on the door.

At nap time, Dec immediately got out of his bed and opened the door. And, seeing the gate, screamed. For an hour. Then passed out in place on the floor in front of the gate.

There's a special kind of sadness when you see your exhausted, stubborn kiddo like this. And I decided an hour into his much needed nap to put him back in bed. But he woke up. And didn't go back to sleep.

Onto Friday night. A new solution: bungee cord. If he can't open the door, he can't see the now-obsolete gate. It worked. He didn't escape the room. But at 11:30, when Rich and I were brave enough to take a look, we found him and yaya (his blankie) passed out in front of his bookshelf. Again, no bed. This time when we put him in bed, he fell asleep, which was great. But come 4:00am, we heard him but could no longer see him in his bed. He had chosen instead to sleep in his chair. Sitting up. PTFO.

The next two nights were spent moving sleeping Declan from his chair, where he had meticulously moved all of his stuffed animals to keep him company, back to his bed. And eventually he got it. Although Rich did find him sleeping on his window seat in the morning and today when I put him down for a nap, he was up and at 'em again, exploring that newly free room. But right now, as I type, he is sleeping in his toddler bed, stuffed animals in tow.

I need a nap.

Gone, Daddy, Gone

So we've been going through a big adjustment in the Corcoran household. Rich got a new job, which we are all very excited about, but which comes with one big caveat: travel. Every week. Always.

Now we've been dealing with the travel aspect on and off since Rich got into consulting, so it was with an informed mind that we agreed on this. But I had some terms: Declan is now going to daycare Tuesday and Thursday mornings and we got a cleaning lady. We'll get mowers in the spring too. Because as much as I adore Declan, and I do massively adore him, I need to have time to recoup. Whether it's reading a book, blogging, or doing the grocery shopping, just being alone holds a special kind of significance, one that I never truly understood until D came along.

We've had some real adjustment to the whole daycare thing, even though it's only for three hours. I could just feel his little heart breaking every time I'd leave him there. I'd watch as Ms. Tiffany cuddled and reassured him and I heard his screams all the way out the door. Man! That is a special kind of heartbreak. But, something happened yesterday.

Declan's been getting better each time. He says "Min-ee Min-ee" a lot (Ms. Tiffany) then with big, earnest eyes, "buh lub a low" (play dough). I think he's only played with play dough once there, but it was enough to shift the winds ever so slightly. Flash forward to this Tuesday when Declan screamed his head off and had a huge fit. He was so upset. And everyone kind of stopped and looked at me. Because Declan didn't want to leave. Yes, I was picking him up. Now it's me that makes him cry. Don't know if I was quite ready for this yet.

But overall I'm proud. He's been doing so much better at the gym, so much so that I don't really have an excuse not to go anymore. But, they don't change diapers, and Declan knows just when to poop. Right when I'm in the middle of aerobics. Kid's got some good timing.

This Wednesday, I happened to forget the diaper bag. I always forget something. So D and I had a little talk, and I asked him to please not poop. And I really thought we had an understanding. And I was convinced that he was in on the plan.

I won't go into detail, but Declan was most certainly not in on it. And the result was a couple of good, thorough hand washes on my part, done in the gym bathroom, and Declan being cleaned up with paper towels and then going commando for a minute while I searched for a diaper.

Then we went to storytime.