Now that Sy has gone back to work because his paternity leave ended, I've become a stay at home mom. And do you know what I've realized? I spend a LOT of time in Emily's room. I've been taking care of Emily for 6 weeks now, and the majority of my time goes to putting Emily down. It can take a really long time to get her to fall asleep - sometimes more than an hour.
So what am I doing when I put Emily down? I'm usually pacing her room - shh-ing her, rocking her, swinging her, walking in circles - all within the 4 walls of her room.
When I was pregnant, I had spent a lot of time pinteresting all kinds of cute ideas for how to decorate Emily's room. I wanted her room to be perfect - the perfect mix of cute, a little girly, functional, organized, and most importantly - what she would want. I spent more money on her little rug than I did for our own living room rug. I researched mini children's bookshelves that would be perfect for her. I designed bible verses and framed them for her room so she would always know she was loved and blessed by God.
What a fool I was!
Emily doesn't care about her room at all! She can barely see more than 8 inches in front of her face! What I should've done was to actually design her room to be best for ME. I'M the one who spends the majority of my time in her room - staring at the same 4 walls for hours on end. I should've made this room more suitable for me! If I could go back in time, here's what I would add:
1. A large TV that is always on mute with closed captions, and plays on repeat episodes of Friends, How I Met Your Mother, and Family Feud. (I mean come on - who doesn't love Family Feud?? And what better way to not lose your mind than to try to come up with answers from a poll of 100 people) I think 30 minutes would fly by a lot more quickly if I could watch tv than to watch my child's eyelids open YET AGAIN.
2. A large computer screen that plays my instagram and facebook feed for me - and also has some kind of magical ability to auto scroll for me. This would help me to feel connected to the world at normal hours of the day. Right now, I only check social media during the wee hours of the night while I pump.
3. A faux animal skin rug that is super soft on my feet. (you know - that popular ikea white animal skin rug!) I spend so much time pacing in circles on that rug - it'd be nice if I could feel the luxurious fur between my toes.
4. Or maybe on the large computer screen, I can have a large font version of a book to read - because man, I really miss reading normal books. I spent the last 2 months of my pregnancy reading only baby-related books that I haven't been able to read a single page of glorious, beautiful literature. I miss the feeling of getting lost in a book and being transported somewhere else. And when else do you want to be transported more than when you're trapped in a baby's room trying to shush them to sleep for the 13847592475th time?
This is the advice I would give to people who are nesting. Don't make the perfect room for your baby. (Emily can't read any of the books I stocked her bookshelf with!) Make the nursery a haven for yourself, and you might survive the crazy first 3 months.
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Friday, March 16, 2018
May the odds be ever in your favor!
Since the day that we came home from the hospital, taking care of Emily has been a round-the-clock job that has no end. For the past month, we have been living hour to hour, waiting for this little beast to awaken.
I've realized that taking care of a baby feels a lot like the movie/book Hunger Games 2 - Catching Fire. SPOILER ALERT: if you haven't read/seen Hunger Games 2, I'm going to spoil it for you.
In Hunger Games 2, the players learn quickly that the island they're on is based on a clock. Depending on which triangle of the clock you are standing in, you will face a different "monster" to have to defeat or escape (i.e. the poisonous fog, blood rain, etc). As they run through the different hours of the clock, they must defeat/escape the same "monsters" over and over until the game is done.
I feel like raising a baby is a lot like this clock arena!
Hour 1: the fear of waiting for Emily to wake up: You never know when she's going to wake up and how much time we have left to enjoy the quiet. Do we watch another episode on Netflix? Do we try to nap? Do we have time to take a shower? The not-knowing when she's going to wake up can be one of the most stressful questions to have to face.
Hour 2: Emily wakes up and we change her diaper: And so begins the crying as she hates being cold as we take off her onesie. And then the frantic diaper changing begins as we try to be as quick as possible before she scratches up her face with her long nails. And while this is all happening, we pray that she won't projectile poop on my face again, or she doesn't pee or poo on yet another changing pad and wet another onesie - adding to my laundry basket that seems to never be empty.
Hour 3: Feeding Emily. There's actually nothing too stressful about feeding Emily. I find her the most amusing during this time when she's happily gulping away. She makes the cutest little sounds - whether she's drinking too fast and making loud sucking noises, or when she sighs contentedly or even sighs out of exhaustion. (apparently it's hard work to eat!) The only stressful thing about feeding Emily is how she cries so hard when it takes us more than 5 seconds to prepare her bottles. What an impatient little thing!
Hour 4: Putting Emily to sleep: This is the hardest part of the arena. It's a mental game and a physical game. Physically, it gets exhausting holding her for long periods of time trying to get her to fall asleep. I sometimes legit do a full cardio workout the way I have to bounce and swing and rock her to sleep. The guessing game is what kills me the most - is she going to respond to a simple jiggle of my arms? or does she want an aggressive rocking? or does she want the swinging from side to side? or the swinging up and down? which combination is going to be the magic touch to put her to sleep? But on top of all this is the mental game - the uncertainty of how long you're going to be doing this for. Will I be rocking for 5 min or 20 min? Can I stay awake long enough not to drop her (when it's 4:30am)? How long am I going to have to hold my own pee while I wait for her to fall asleep? How long can I hold out before I need to ask Sy to tag me out?
And then when we finally get her to sleep, the clock resets and we're back to Hour 1 - the fear of Emily waking up. Will we need to go back into her room and re-settle her? Do we bother to get comfortable in our bed? How long before she wakes up again?
And the fear settles back in.
And the arena never stops.
Our baby is a Hunger Games competition. Who will win? I'm pretty sure it's her.
I've realized that taking care of a baby feels a lot like the movie/book Hunger Games 2 - Catching Fire. SPOILER ALERT: if you haven't read/seen Hunger Games 2, I'm going to spoil it for you.
In Hunger Games 2, the players learn quickly that the island they're on is based on a clock. Depending on which triangle of the clock you are standing in, you will face a different "monster" to have to defeat or escape (i.e. the poisonous fog, blood rain, etc). As they run through the different hours of the clock, they must defeat/escape the same "monsters" over and over until the game is done.
I feel like raising a baby is a lot like this clock arena!
Hour 1: the fear of waiting for Emily to wake up: You never know when she's going to wake up and how much time we have left to enjoy the quiet. Do we watch another episode on Netflix? Do we try to nap? Do we have time to take a shower? The not-knowing when she's going to wake up can be one of the most stressful questions to have to face.
Hour 2: Emily wakes up and we change her diaper: And so begins the crying as she hates being cold as we take off her onesie. And then the frantic diaper changing begins as we try to be as quick as possible before she scratches up her face with her long nails. And while this is all happening, we pray that she won't projectile poop on my face again, or she doesn't pee or poo on yet another changing pad and wet another onesie - adding to my laundry basket that seems to never be empty.
Hour 3: Feeding Emily. There's actually nothing too stressful about feeding Emily. I find her the most amusing during this time when she's happily gulping away. She makes the cutest little sounds - whether she's drinking too fast and making loud sucking noises, or when she sighs contentedly or even sighs out of exhaustion. (apparently it's hard work to eat!) The only stressful thing about feeding Emily is how she cries so hard when it takes us more than 5 seconds to prepare her bottles. What an impatient little thing!
Hour 4: Putting Emily to sleep: This is the hardest part of the arena. It's a mental game and a physical game. Physically, it gets exhausting holding her for long periods of time trying to get her to fall asleep. I sometimes legit do a full cardio workout the way I have to bounce and swing and rock her to sleep. The guessing game is what kills me the most - is she going to respond to a simple jiggle of my arms? or does she want an aggressive rocking? or does she want the swinging from side to side? or the swinging up and down? which combination is going to be the magic touch to put her to sleep? But on top of all this is the mental game - the uncertainty of how long you're going to be doing this for. Will I be rocking for 5 min or 20 min? Can I stay awake long enough not to drop her (when it's 4:30am)? How long am I going to have to hold my own pee while I wait for her to fall asleep? How long can I hold out before I need to ask Sy to tag me out?
And then when we finally get her to sleep, the clock resets and we're back to Hour 1 - the fear of Emily waking up. Will we need to go back into her room and re-settle her? Do we bother to get comfortable in our bed? How long before she wakes up again?
And the fear settles back in.
And the arena never stops.
Our baby is a Hunger Games competition. Who will win? I'm pretty sure it's her.
Parents - can't live with them, can't live without... umm... no comment
I can't believe it's already been 5 weeks since Emily has come into our lives! The days and nights are so long, and yet time goes by so fast. I've been meaning to capture all the thoughts/insights and memories I've had during these past 5 weeks so that I can look back on them years from now when Sy and I are old, and we can miss being parents to a newborn. But alas, time is precious and instead of writing this all down, I chose naps or taking a shower instead. (I think we can all agree that was the right decision!)
So here goes - the first memory I want to capture.
The first time my parents came to visit us at our home after Emily's birth was the most annoying 3 hours I've had in a long time. My parents are good people with good intentions - but boy do they lack common sense! In the middle of their visit, I had to go into the bedroom to go pump and left Sy to hang out with them alone. I had imagined that it would be a little awkward for them to just make chit chat without me, but how bad could it be? I heard my dad go to the bathroom and then shortly after, he started calling out to Sy asking where our toilet cleaner was. Sy ran over to my dad and gently told him it was unnecessary for him to clean our toilet. But my dad insisted that it needed to be cleaned, and started going to his car to get his cleaning supplies. When my dad came back from the car, he realized that we didn't have a toilet brush. Sy then had to explain to my dad that we use the disposable brushes, and again insisted that my dad do not clean our toilet. But again - my dad refused to listen.
So then Sy had to explain how to use the disposable brush. I was still trapped in our bedroom pumping, and couldn't put an end to this even if I wanted to. Soon, I heard the sloshing sounds of my dad cleaning our toilet. After multiple flushes, I began to wonder - why is my dad still cleaning the toilet? It should only take about 1-2 minutes to clean a toilet. Sy must have had the same thought and went to go check in on my dad.
And what did Sy find? He found my dad cleaning our bathtub USING THE TOILET BRUSH! Sy exclaimed, "DAD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? THAT'S DISGUSTING!" Which my dad then reasoned that the toilet brush was clean bc he had rinsed it in the clean toilet bowl after he had finished cleaning it. Sy (man, I love his quick logic) then asked my dad - "Would you eat off a plate that I used to clean with this toilet water??" And my dad - being the proud man that he is - refused to acknowledge that he had committed a truly heinous act in the name of sanitation - and again insisted that WE were the crazy, neurotic clean-freaks who could not appreciate his act of service to us.
I get that my dad was trying to be a good father - to help clean his daughter's house while she was recovering from having a baby - and clearly didn't have time to clean. But he didn't realize that he had now given us an extra chore of having to clean the bathtub! (I HATE cleaning the bathtub the most of all the household chores!) He took our mediocre-level clean bathtub and turned it into a bathtub that no one would want to step foot into! I wanted to strangle him!
Sigh - parents can be such a pain! They mean well - but man, they do not make life easier more often than not! Even 6 hours after my parents had left our house, while lying on the sofa, I burst out in anger - "IF HE HAD EVEN USED A NEW TOILET BRUSH - THAT WOULD'VE BEEN BETTER!" Sy burst out laughing that I was still angry and replaying this encounter when I was supposed to be napping.
This was truly an SMH moment. Emily - if you ever read this entry when you're older - I hope you know that this is what we put up with because your grandparents wanted to see you. You owe us, girl. You owe us so much.
So here goes - the first memory I want to capture.
The first time my parents came to visit us at our home after Emily's birth was the most annoying 3 hours I've had in a long time. My parents are good people with good intentions - but boy do they lack common sense! In the middle of their visit, I had to go into the bedroom to go pump and left Sy to hang out with them alone. I had imagined that it would be a little awkward for them to just make chit chat without me, but how bad could it be? I heard my dad go to the bathroom and then shortly after, he started calling out to Sy asking where our toilet cleaner was. Sy ran over to my dad and gently told him it was unnecessary for him to clean our toilet. But my dad insisted that it needed to be cleaned, and started going to his car to get his cleaning supplies. When my dad came back from the car, he realized that we didn't have a toilet brush. Sy then had to explain to my dad that we use the disposable brushes, and again insisted that my dad do not clean our toilet. But again - my dad refused to listen.
So then Sy had to explain how to use the disposable brush. I was still trapped in our bedroom pumping, and couldn't put an end to this even if I wanted to. Soon, I heard the sloshing sounds of my dad cleaning our toilet. After multiple flushes, I began to wonder - why is my dad still cleaning the toilet? It should only take about 1-2 minutes to clean a toilet. Sy must have had the same thought and went to go check in on my dad.
And what did Sy find? He found my dad cleaning our bathtub USING THE TOILET BRUSH! Sy exclaimed, "DAD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? THAT'S DISGUSTING!" Which my dad then reasoned that the toilet brush was clean bc he had rinsed it in the clean toilet bowl after he had finished cleaning it. Sy (man, I love his quick logic) then asked my dad - "Would you eat off a plate that I used to clean with this toilet water??" And my dad - being the proud man that he is - refused to acknowledge that he had committed a truly heinous act in the name of sanitation - and again insisted that WE were the crazy, neurotic clean-freaks who could not appreciate his act of service to us.
I get that my dad was trying to be a good father - to help clean his daughter's house while she was recovering from having a baby - and clearly didn't have time to clean. But he didn't realize that he had now given us an extra chore of having to clean the bathtub! (I HATE cleaning the bathtub the most of all the household chores!) He took our mediocre-level clean bathtub and turned it into a bathtub that no one would want to step foot into! I wanted to strangle him!
Sigh - parents can be such a pain! They mean well - but man, they do not make life easier more often than not! Even 6 hours after my parents had left our house, while lying on the sofa, I burst out in anger - "IF HE HAD EVEN USED A NEW TOILET BRUSH - THAT WOULD'VE BEEN BETTER!" Sy burst out laughing that I was still angry and replaying this encounter when I was supposed to be napping.
This was truly an SMH moment. Emily - if you ever read this entry when you're older - I hope you know that this is what we put up with because your grandparents wanted to see you. You owe us, girl. You owe us so much.
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