The shakes are back…

As we drive to the hospital to feed our brand new baby girl (I can’t wait to see her, to feel that I have her, that she is real) I feel hot and cold at the same time, the dizziness and overall discomfort won’t go away.

I feel my forehead which is warm but not hot and compare with my husband’s. Like a child I ask my mom to feel it too and she agrees, definitely warm but not alarmingly hot.

Maybe a slight temperature, but like I said before, I gave birth only a couple of days ago and I get a fever for basically everything so I’m not that worried about feeling this icky.

Except when we reach the hospital, I feel worse…

I am hotter and suddenly the shakes are creeping up on me. As we wait for our turn to get a sticker, be allowed in and wash our hands (I sent my husband to Mc Donald’s with our son to get some fries) I tell my mom to hold on.

I have to sit down because the room starts to spin and here comes my friends (more like my enemies) the shakes from last night. They get worse and worse and my mom tells me to stop shaking, like she did when we were kids when we were coughing or had the hiccups (which might sound a little brutal but actually do work).

Like a good daughter I try to listen to my mommy but I just can’t stop shaking for the life of me.

I tell my mom that I need to go the bathroom, trying to tell myself that I can control this but at the same time starting to wonder what is wrong with me, something like this has never happened to me before.

Since the restrooms by the NICU are being cleaned my mom searches for another bathroom on the first floor since I am now shaking so bad, I don’t feel that I can walk. I suggest that we ride the elevator up to the third floor where I know that there is a bathroom for sure since I just spent 2 days in recovery there (on the third floor not in the bathroom).

I really want to get away from people, I feel like they are staring at me and I really need to get a hold of myself. The trip to the bathroom didn’t help, I have to concentrate hard on walking and then there is if possible even more blood in the toilet (but still not enough to soak my pad but I’m starting to think enough to be concerned?) and the shakes are getting worse not better.

We go back down to the NICU and I can’t even focus on seeing my baby (sleeping peacefully, clenching her tiny hands).

My favorite NICU nurse, Kate is there, telling us she needs to eat in about twenty minutes (the baby not Kate that is).

I am now starting to realize that I will not be able to feed my baby, the shakes have turned violent and I am now so so cold, freezing actually.

I don’t know what I tell my mom, something about going to the bathroom again but I know she looks really worried now…

I walk as fast as the shakes will allow me to the bathroom right outside of the NICU and luckily the cleaners are all done in there. I make it in to a stall before I sink to the ground, thinking something is really wrong here…

I try several times to get to my feet but I’m shaking so much I have to make attempt after attempt, clenching my teeth as I’m hugging my body, trying to zip up my sweater further than it can go and telling myself that I need to make it back into the NICU to tell my mom we need to go home.

All I want to do is crawl into to bed with about a hundred warm blankets, fall asleep and just forget about how cold and shaky I am and hopefully wake up feeling better.

I also attempt to call my husband to come pick us up but my phone keeps sliding out of my hands and forget dialing, it is a lost cause, this is starting to get ridiculous.  

As I walk back into the NICU, I believe even more people stop and stare at me but I have a one track mind, people fade out of my vision and I can see that my mom is now looking more than concerned.

I tell her that I don’t think I can feed the baby and that I need to go home but as she tells me to stop shaking and tell her what is wrong and my eyes well up with tears as I can’t, she takes matters into her own hands. She usually lets me (and my sister) do the talking here (in the US) as she is Swedish (but quite good at English I might add) but right now she goes to find the nurse.

I don’t even know what they are saying as I become less and less aware of my surroundings, all I know is, I WANT to stop shaking and get warm. Oh why, why is it so damn cold in here, could they maybe turn off the A/C, it’s ridiculously cold for these tiny poor infants!

Nurse Kate takes one look at me and I can hear her tell mom that I must be running a seriously high fever. No I protest, it’s just the shakes (whatever that means). She leaves just to come back seconds later with a wheel chair. I do think I can walk (besides where am I going in that? I have had enough of wheelchairs for I don’t know…about a life time) but when I stand I realize that I absolutely can’t walk and am actually grateful as I sink down in the rolling chair.

Kate asks if I can direct my mom to triage (isn’t it only extremely pregnant women and women with pregnancy complications that go there? I have time to think) but she takes another look at me and apparently determines that I am in no condition to direct anybody anywhere. And off we go to the elevators and triage, Kate wheeling the chair and my mom hurrying after us.

 

 

 

My baby boy just turned ONE 🥰👶🏼💙😭

About a year ago, I was all alone in a hospital bed yet again (looking back on the premature birth of my sweet daughter and her NICU stay). This time around my baby was “only” four weeks early, but unfortunately he inhaled his first poo and it clogged his tiny lungs. On top of that I had pneumonia and tested positive for influenza so all the nurses and doctors in masks debated whether I should even hold and nurse my brand new child.

It is a very lonely and unnatural feeling to have your baby whisked away from you right after birth. You just accomplished a miracle and your (priceless) price is taken away from you shortly after receiving it (him). You are left achy and sore after excruciating pain followed by the highest of highs and then left to process the experience all alone. I know all moms of preemies having been taken away can relate to this devastating feeling of emptiness.

Once in the recovery room someone was acutely missing…

I couldn’t even get some well deserved rest, knowing that baby boy wouldn’t be able to rest at all- that he would have tubes down his throat and his little body would be worked on. I kept worrying about him and wondering if he was uncomfortable or (worse) in pain…

It was decided that I could give my new son formula or donor milk (real breast milk) but I wasn’t allowed to try to nurse him just yet. I have read that a mother’s breastmilk have powerful antibiotic qualities and is always best for the baby no matter how ill the mother is, so I was slightly taken aback by this. It also felt slightly strange and somehow sad to be giving him someone else’s breastmilk (as his first milk) and not my own…

After having thought about it, I could see the tremendous benefit of giving him breastmilk right from the start and how lucky we were that this was even an option at our hospital.

Since the epidural never worked, the aftermath of childbirth was quite different. There was no period afterwards of feeling sluggish or being unable to walk on your own. No headache or backache or tingly legs as the feelings in them returned. I didn’t feel nauseous and as I went to the bathroom I needed no assistance and I could get out of bed and move around right after birth how I pleased, except for the pain and the bleeding I felt myself being more awake and alert and more in charge of my own body!

As they gave him back to me to be feed the donor milk, my baby boy was also awake and alert and sweet as can be.

No matter how many babies you have, the feeling that hits you as you get to hold your brand new baby in your arms and really soak him in for the first time after the stress and trauma of the birth and delivery room, is nothing short of extraordinarily.

I smelled him (his tiny newborn body that had been through so much already) and cuddled him (mask on) and as I tried to feed him (someone else’s milk) I didn’t see the obstacles, only the opportunities of the future. I promised right then and there to love and take care of him forever!

And now my baby boy, it’s been a whole year and you are still the sweetest, happiest, cuddliest boy!

Happy first Birthday to my youngest baby boy! My very last baby…

I can’t wait to see you grow and thrive and try to keep up with your siblings!

Before the Alarm rings… (by a very TIRED mama)

My alarm rings for the first time at 6:15 in the morning- 6:15…and I hate it- therefore I have a second alarm set for 6:45 (which I totally snooze until 7). I have been doing this since I was old enough to set my own alarm clock and in the midst of hating (I mean really hating) mornings, it kind of works. I mean it DID work…
Enters: kids!
I know it’s the same for everyone (which doesn’t seem entirely true by the way) and isn’t that the price to pay for parenthood (so worth it…right!?) but I really freaking value my sleep- OKAY!???
Then you shouldn’t have been a mom you say! Okay, first of all: who are you? And how dare you? Second of all; I know, I know- you have a point (huge sigh) but I am (barely) functioning here and I’m doing (pretty) fine!!! So there!
Go to bed earlier they say, well; ever heard of toddler sleep regression? No? Then stop talking (judging) right now! Besides I have this little thing called a part time job- I might only be a professor online but they do actually expect me to deliver university worthy courses and that people, means actual work and putting in the hours in between poppy diapers, grocery runs and preschool pick-ups! This is by the way my very round about way to tell you all that “I AM TIRED” really, really tired! So even if I signed up for this gig, I still really hate mornings!! Got it!

So this is what happens now BEFORE the alarm rings- yes you read right- before!!!
There are two kids in our bed. Husband has left (fled) already- and before you feel sorry for his early mornings consider this A. He actually likes mornings- yup! I married a freak! And B. He doesn’t get to be part of our lovely morning routine AKA hell (slight exaggeration here I know but still pretty much true) so yes he escapes and no; no need to feel sorry for him.
So there I am TRYING to sleep, trying to get those extra precious moments of zzz time while I usually have random fingers in my ears (no not mine), up my nose (again, I swear not mine), a butt in my face as well as a sliver of bed left to “sleep” on because at least one open mouthed snoring kid has decided to sleep diagonally on the bed (like it’s perfectly normal).

Even before the kicking starts (picking up in speed as well as frequency and intensity) aiming at stomach and face mostly (and other vulnerable parts), the slow twitching of eye lashes start (oh yes, I can hear them) and then the slow excruciating whining (worse than any chalk on any blackboard…truly). The older one awakens first with the words “MAMA ITS NOT NIGHTTIME”, the volume alone… and the words…the dreaded, dreaded words! My LEAST favorite moment of any day! Then we have the eyes, the bright, wide open eyes (kill me now) and the bouncing body (shuddering), next sentence is a toss up between “look, the sun is up” or the yelling of “what happens next mama?” “what happens NEEEXXXT?” Straight into my ear!

I am a pretty good mom, I promise and I love being a mom, adore my kids etc. etc. but the mornings…

Okay, said kid is being so extremely loud that of course he wakes his sister up (the bouncing alone) and she always wakes up crying! (Let’s face it, I would too if it was appropriate!) I console her as tear turns to hysterical laughter at her oh so hilarious brother (oh how I don’t agree- but she is his biggest fan after all).

Then the jumping starts…

I usually try to grab another couple minutes of shut eye- insert more hysterical laughter here…for anyone who thought I was being serious…or successful…

Well, I “try”, that part is true…

So before the alarm rings, I have a 4 year old screaming his head off that it is in fact “not nighttime”, a crying/laughing/jumping toddler, am sore from all the kicks and oh so so tired. I still refuse to get out of bed (obviously) so while holding a hand around my squirmy girl’s ankle and trying to ignore my screaming boy, at least I try to still rest my head on my pillow (until said pillow get snatched away and suddenly involved in an impromptu pillow fight).

And then the alarm rings (loudly).

This is what happens between the first alarm and the second (because being the most stubborn person stuck in her ways, and did I mention “morning hater” I still refuse to get out of bed); I rescue someone from falling off the bed, I dry tears, I send someone to the restroom, I turn on cartoons, I find iPad, water, missing sock, teddies, dinosaurs (all from bed), I defend myself from kicks, slaps, hits, bites, licks…even sloppy kisses and violent hugs!
I yell at someone, tell someone that I am sorry for yelling, rescue one from the other and the the other one from the first one…yeah! I think you get the idea. All the while, I’m trying to snooze like I always have since being able to set my own alarm…well, those were the days…before kids!

And then the second alarm rings (loudly)

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Sisterly Love and Adulthood

Last week we made (the long overdue) trip to see my little sister (in my eyes she is still 15…or more like 5…but she is not anymore..). So much has happened in her life lately and is seems like I’m missing so much. Actually we are missing so much in each other’s lives and I can’t help feeling sad about it. I mean I know that is what happens and that its natural and even a normal, healthy progression of life but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.

We were once so close and I now treasure those years that we both took for granted, looking back we seemed to have it all but of course we were then too young and dumb to realize that. We grew up close but with 4 and a half years between us, she was always so much younger. In our twenties however the gap wasn’t so big and we started enjoying the same things.

The moment my sister decided to extend her summer trip in the sun visiting me to actually starting school here and moving in with me was one of my luckiest! We had years of fun, bonding time that neither one of us will ever forget. Sure it was the heartaches and the lack of money and the exams and some hardcore studying (partying) and numerous disappointments but overall it was our years in paradise. Basically no responsibilities, we were in our prime, pretty, blonde, smart, tanned, carefree and overall happy. Our biggest problems included “when will that cute guy call?” “where should we go out tonight?” “how to ace the next test”, “what movie should we watch?” “this dress or that one?” and “what to eat for dinner?”

It’s not like we just fluttered around supported and without ambition and goals, we were both in school full time and we both worked having rent and bills and “hobbies” to pay for (with tremendous help from our parents of course). How lucky were we to have each other? Sisters who didn’t only love each other because we were family, but honestly best friends! We seriously were almost always on the same page and got along better than anyone could or would have expected. We made new friends, bought and sold cars, saved up for special shopping trips, spent holidays in a foreign country away from the rest of our family, lived on little, cooked for each other and helped each other out with everything from school work to nannying to being the “designated driver”.

I went from completing my Masters program to starting my journey towards becoming a doctor of psychology while my sister worked on completing her bachelor degree in business by both working at the school and nannying. I went from nannying to internships to actually small but legit psychology jobs. We shared everything from food to jobs to laughs and most importantly friendship (and in some cases boys… kidding…sort of…).

Now we have been a part for well over five years first surviving her moving back to Sweden for a while and then to a completely different state- very far away while I met my man (had to stay for this one…) here and put down roots-becoming an American myself and everything!

My sister has been here of course but when you work and is a horse and dog mommy (read that right: my sister is not a horse…) you have REAL responsibilities you all of a sudden can’t ignore, it gets more difficult to leave your life for constant trips back and forth. When you get married, get a house, a dog and kid(s) – forget about it. We haven’t missed the huge stuff like her moving into a new house, my firstborn’s homecoming, my bed rest as well as random celebrations of Christmas and birthdays but it’s not the same as seeing each other and being there for each other every single day!

I get sad when I know I’m about to miss some crucial milestones in her life (me being older I know I pretty much have the big ones out of the way!) I was devastated that it took us a year to introduce my sister to my baby daughter… but I know that is life. As an adult you have to work and be responsible and you can’t just drop everything at the drop of a hat. I appreciate my adult life, I really do(wouldn’t change it for the world) and as a big sister, I’m immensely proud of hers!

I’ve always felt some responsibility in being the older sister and before I had kids (and even now I must admit) I worry about my little sister a lot, and I think about her and I naturally only want what is best for her! I can’t believe she made herself into the strong, ambitious and beautiful woman that she is today. Quite the careers lady with a horse and a dog to take care of, a house and a huge white truck!

She had planned an amazing stay for us in one of  the coziest and most charming little village part of her big city, where she now lives. With boat and bus tours for the kids downtown, amazing restaurants, yummy ice cream and treats and endless entertainment. We really, truly had a wonderful time (even the kids “semi” behaved. Me and my husband joked that a couple of days are plenty and very much enough with our kids- maybe you will even still like them at the end of the stay!).
The constant diaper changes (and blow-outs), car seats and strollers, wants and needs, potty breaks (and potty humor), picky eating, toys and tantrums wear you down after a while (but it’s good practice guys!)

Asking my little sister if she was ready for babies (and don’t you just love mine!!? – as they were running like crazy at a rather fancy restaurant) she looked at me with a (very) hesitant look, taking her time to answer…
– well maybe, I think….it’s different when you have your own!

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I just hope I can be there for her now as she embarks on the journey of “real” adulthood and all the huge and great milestones that lay ahead!

Love you Sis!

Ode to the Wipe (wipe wars)

You know the moment when you ask your husband to get a wipe and he turns into a confused alien life form without the ability to understand you…or you know, move!

You are feeding your precious newborn and she spits up all over you and it’s dripping done towards the couch and your fancy pillows and throws…and you yell for your husband (who by the way is already up on his feet, baby less and way closer to the much needed wipes) to get you some wipes!

First the confusion occurs “wipes?” “What wipes?”

“Eh, only the wipes we use everyday, ALL THE TIME” (stay calm, breathe, he will get them very soon).

Enter alien life form, head spins around, walks slowly around in circles, muttering inaudible.

“The wipes, the wipes, the freaking WIPES!!!” You can’t help yelling to emphasize the urgency here!

“Uh, where?”

“Uh” (you have surrendered to mockingly imitate which you really didn’t mean to but the baby is falling asleep and you rather not wake the monster…eh hmm little angel and you are pretty darn fond of those pillows…)
“Right there, right there, where they always are, right by you HURRY”

Confused expression, looking in the general direction of where I’m painstakingly pointing; “okay, okay, no need to yell! I’m going!” Walking in slow motion. It is brutally painful to watch and no matter how hard I’m tilting the baby in different angels and soaking spit-up up with my shirt sleeves (nice, I know!), the first pillow is now soaked (just one more thing to add to the to do list! Yay!)

“Eh, which kind of wipes again??”

“What kind, WHAT KIND???”

“Yeah, you know there are the purple or the blue”

“WHITE, WHITE, they are all WHITE and all the SAME!!!!” I’m already getting up, hoping against hope not to wake the baby, regurgitated thick whitish milk dripping down my black yoga pants (what? Gross?? Just pop out a baby and see what you are wearing or what mess is currently dripping done your stretchy pants!)

“No they do have different color on the outside, some are butt wipes, I thought…and some are…”

Getting almost stampeded by furious new mom with a frantically screaming baby on her way to her much needed wipes.

Getting them right in front of my husband who exclaims “oh those! I could have gotten those for you”, falters … slightly terrified at my expression…

“Well, I would have gotten them, no need to get so upset”…

This little anecdote is mean to make you knowingly nod your head…(not think b*tch to yourself) because the truth is you can change out the word “wipes” with almost anything I ask my husband to get fast!

I get it, I’m faster and better at finding things around the house, I know where I put things and I want them in a certain way but sometimes it’s comical (or it would be if it wasn’t so frustrating) how he (and now also my 4 year old) can’t find things right in front of him (them).

Wipes are an excellent example because they are so needed for everyday survival!

This is what I call “an ode to the wipe”

Wipes are indeed necessary items in any family with little kids. Sure they are a household staple but they are also under rated. Wipes are essential, no they are in fact crucial. They have a lot more functions than the most common “wipe butts” function. Think; drool, liquids, spit-up, vomit, sticky messy messes AND also include adult spills. They can be used for older kids as well, not just babies, they can also be used on and for dogs and their messes. They can wipe buggers, paint, apple juice, chocolate, little leaks, big leaks and even bloody noses and knees.

When I was a kid, we didn’t use wipes, not even for changing diapers. The only “wipe like” occurrence I can think of is the “wet wipes” we use to keep in the car on our European road trips.

Now when I forgot wipes at home (ahhh), am out of wipes or just took the last one, its a near disaster. I need wipes in my house (every room), car and purse almost as much as I need air (slight exaggeration but you know…).

Ever taken the last wipe, elbow deep in the century’s worse poopy diaper or as your toddler is a squirmy mess close to your light tan suede couches with chocolaty fingers?

You are in desperate need of a wipe (or several) as you get “spit uped” on, peed on (yes, really), spilled on, or when you bite your tongue so bad after being hit by a flying iPad (yes, this happened) so you are gushing blood everywhere.

No, this is not a wipe commercial…nor do I get any kick backs or incentives of any kinds to post this but come on, don’t you agree parents? wipes are a daily necessity (more like hourly…”minute-ly”).

The need for wipes (no, they are not just “butt wipes” as my husband calls them, they are everything wipes) do not stop once your babies turn into toddlers or even big kids.

Sharing wipes is caring. You need them everywhere, the playground, the store, the mall, the car, so when you are out…lets just say if someone hands you some, you are forever grateful!

I can’t believe I used to live and actually function without them in my life. I was wipe-less for far too long. How could I have missed the miracle of a simple wipe? I must admit, you need them waaay more with kids but wipes are not just for kids, they are for everyone.

Wipes are for everyone, everywhere! I don’t care how old you are even mommies and daddies..(I am a spiller myself!).even if you are not even a parent…you need them!

You are probably wondering where I’m going with this!

Nowhere in particular I most admit but to prove a point; more wipes to the people!

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Apparently when you are a mom you just FIX IT…

After dinner, on our way to the car there is an unfortunate round, artsy fountain looking thing with water basically shooting out from the ground…

Yes, you guessed it, I told my son “we are not playing in the water, we are going straight to the car” several times before walking by it. His little friend was allowed to play near the water and run for a little bit (it is then so difficult to deny your son to do the same but the other boy’s behavior at dinner was definitely better than my boy’s, so he had earned some run and play time). That is exactly what he did; he ran and he played. I stood firm in my decision however, that we were saying bye and going to the car.

My son had other plans (what else is new?). He let go of my hand as I struggled to hold on to the squirming baby (you know how babies get) and he went straight for the water!

He was soaked and laughing by the time I got ahold of him. I wasn’t…

Laughing that is, I was more like…boiling…

What now? It’s not like I wanted to be “that mom” yelling and screaming at my son in a public place (in front of my friend and her kid) while juggling the baby and also trying to hold on to his slippery body to keep him from running right back to the water. I felt it though, the anger…oh how I felt it. The cones, the dinner, the obvious disobedience! But I swallowed it trying to remember that he is just a little boy wanting to have fun and not understanding why the rules are there… for a reason. In my head I frantically yell, no TV, no iPad, no Legos, no freaking dinosaurs…no fun!! EVER again!

I look at the reason I said “no water” though right now.  There was obviously no way he could just innocently play NEAR the water, casually watching it like his friend. Nop, of course not (that would be so out of character!) Now he is blue lipped and shivering, “mommy, I’m cold…Shirt and pants please”…

Back to the bad mama title…I did not have a change of clothes with me for him (baby yes! Four year old, no!)

This was quite the dilemma for multiple reasons; he was literally wet all the way through his clothes and I didn’t even have a towel that he could sit on in his car seat. He hates getting his clothes wet and wants to change out of them immediately (I know so ironic, right?!…I certainly didn’t get him into this situation but apparently when you are a mom it doesn’t matter…you are still suppose to make it right- you still have to be there to FIX IT, and I have a sneaking suspicion that will not end any time soon). The other issue was that we had to pick up some groceries on the way back home (in desperate need of some yoghurt, water and wipes…I know, bad mama planning…but to be fair to, well me…their dad forgot some stuff at his last grocery trip, and baby now drinks these drinkable yoghurts too… bottom line being, we now have to buy more).

I’m pretty sure they won’t allow a wet and NAKED boy at the grocery store (in one of the fancy neighborhoods too…not that that matters, but you know…), even if he is four!

Luckily my ever so resourceful friend had an old change of clothes (size 3 t) for her son that she lets us borrow!

What would I have done without these clothes? Probably driven home with a naked little guy strapped into his car seat, no yoghurt at nighttime for my littlest and no wipes for baby’s next poopy diaper…

What happens at the store is not even funny and I’m don’t want your pity anyways…

Well, okay maybe I do…a little.

Just so you do get an understanding of why I finally snapped I will give you a sneak peak into my Thursday night (turning way later than I planned and ended up way passed bedtime). Let’s just say it involved a tower of apples getting knocked down with what seemed like hundreds of bright red apples rolling frantically in all different directions of the store (you don’t have to tell me, I KNOW this has happened before), someone chocked on a bread roll and managed to throw up, someone got bit, someone got pinched (in retaliation), someone stole (don’t worry the item was returned…along with my sanity)

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and someone had a nervous breakdown!

Well there you have it! That’s all folks!

You know what, I have the best kiddo’s ever!!!

When we go to the mall on Monday, I come prepared. Not with wipes, as you might think (or the other necessities such as diaper bag loaded with essential, the actual diapers, small dinosaur toys and cars, snacks, stroller and baby carrier etc. etc.) but with a slightly larger secret weapon, our nanny!

Wouldn’t you know it, I never did end up getting my textbooks at the school last Friday, which wasn’t only super inconvenient but frankly sucked!

That is why I had to bring our nanny today first to the school and then to the mall as a “reward” afterwards, (on a day she doesn’t normally come, since Tuesday is her only day off from school to come “see” us but luckily she got done early with an exam today).

She has never come to the mall with us before but I have an appointment and am still in the never ending “return cycle” and want (no need) an hour to actually get some things done. I promise her that I will be gone one hour only because I like the poor girl (and because no amount of money in the world…) and let her know we will all go to lunch together afterwards (incentive for her), and if the kids are good, dessert (incentive for them).

It just so happens that both kids fall asleep in the car, my little angels (sure, in this state). Baby surprisingly makes the transfer to the stroller and nanny M carries my big boy (under my protests “he is too big to be held”, but she “doesn’t mind”, no wonder her loves her.

Our plan is to drop her and the kiddos off at one of the family lounges where the kids can play, watch cartoons, read books AND potty/get their diaper changed. How convenient is that?! Didn’t I tell you, I love this mall. This lounge is right inside the food court so you can also get food there AND to my son’s complete excitement watch people skate on “real” ice (or even better play ice hockey!). The one time the ice wasn’t there he had a complete meltdown and blamed me for some reason (“mama, you get the ice back right NOW!!!). Anyways back to the dropping my little gang off.

I hate the guilt you feel when you are leaving your kids. I know they are in very capable hands. She has proven that she can handle both of them. Even baby girl now likes and accepts her, so why? I run towards the first store and feel stress mixed with the inevitable guilt that makes this “alone time” less enjoyable and more…lonely.

Because, no matter how difficult it is to bring the kids, no matter how loud and busy and yes annoying they can be, I still miss them terribly when they aren’t around.

I’m promptly back within the hour and meet our slightly distraught nanny trying to stop the baby from tearing all the books apart and the preschooler from tapping the large TV screen with a wooden toy. Yup, I found my kids!

Surprisingly (and pretty humorous) enough she told me that a mom had come in with her two pretty rowdy kids just after I had left and was apparently amazed over how well-behaved my kids were (as if). Since they had been sleeping moments before, my best guess was that they were still in a haze (and baby might have been a little sad mommy left). Our nanny said they were just standing there, sweet as can be. As the other mom’s kids interacted with them, they let them be wild and shared their toys, my boy was even (gasp), “quiet and polite” (it’s true!).
She had asked the nanny what I did with my kids (ha ha), if I followed some type of discipline, schooling or “parenting program”, she would “love to know”. Or did I put them in some kind of “academy”? At this point I’m laughing. Yes, they are my kids and they are sweet and adorable (even polite at times) but quiet “sharers” who are disciplined? No way!

I do love my two littlest to death though and there is no way I’m putting them in some “academy” instead of right here with me!

Thursday I pick up my boy from camp dirty, hungry and tired. Which is exactly how us mamas want to pick our kids up because now we can feed them and relax with them (because someone else has taken care of the daily activities, physical exercise, creativity and outside play, yay!) and give them a bath before bedtime. It’s not just that he is tired, hungry and dirty, he is also happy! And that is of course the main thing.

They have different theme days and so far my son has probably been on cloud nine due to the jungle animal  and dinosaur themes. He has been a leopard and a T-Rex respectively and the camp leaders tell me he has been the only one out of the whole camp of kids who has stayed in “character” the entire time- never mind the inconvenience (tail safety pinned to behind) or the scorching heat (full on t-Rex mask covering head and face). Even when they played elephants he was a “leopard elephant” and he played “duck, duck T-Rex” (and made them all call him that) Now I don’t know whether that is good or just weird but I choose to go with good!

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Before we leave camp I get the negative feedback from his main counselor that he is not eating his lunch (he is taking “picky eater” to a whole other level this kid) but then it happens, I stand their making my excuses as she says this.

“Thanks for letting us play with him, he is such a JOY”

Word for word! It’s not like I’m surprised or anything, he is a JOY. Just of the wild, energetic, driving you nuts kind (relax, I’m only kidding…sort of). I’m looking at her, scanning her face to see if she is somehow being sarcastic (which would have been kind of a cruel joke) but she looks completely honest and sincere. I look at my friend (whom I must say look equally shocked) but does give me a thumbs up.

It feels nice I can totally get used to this. Actually after last week and the dreaded Friday, things have gotten smoothly this week, maybe this is a positive trend that is here to stay!

Yes, I will savor this for a bit!

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