Rub a Dub Dub

A few months ago, when the Lobster Roll outgrew the baby tub, we decided to just bathe the kids together in order to save a few gallons of water as well as those precious 90 short minutes between arriving home and bedtime.

It's become more evident with the Lobster's increasing agility that this will be a new adventure into untraveled waters (horrible pun intended).  Gobbles has always been pretty calm, even timid in the tub.  He hates getting his hair washed for fear of water or soap getting in his eyes and doesn't really move around all that much because he can't see very well and he's perfectly content with his toys.  So, when the Lobster was big enough to be without the tub we didn't think we'd be getting an exhausting workout like we do. 

My daughter will. not. sit. still. It's habit now that changing a diaper you will have to get up and bring her back at least twice, and with changing an outfit the chase occurs a half-dozen times.  We rarely use the changing table because she fits and flares and flings herself in all directions.  At least she has nowhere to fall if she's already on the ground.  Now take that wiggly little girl, soap her up, and stick her in 5 inches of water, because it's bathtime. 

The minute we get upstairs and close the gate leaving the Lobster free to roam the 2nd floor she cruises, crawls, and steps her way into the bathroom, so excited to play in the water.  She heads right over to the tub and excitedly points at the faucet, willing us to turn it on.  As soon as the water's running, she begins a little dance on the side of the tub, almost trying to leap her way into the water (hilarious but a bit anxiety-inducing too).  If we try to bring her out of the room to play while we get other stuff together, she makes her way back into the bathroom to cheer for the water filling the tub.  Usually we end up undressing her in the hallway and taking the diaper off right before we lift her into the tub, because she has peed on her daddy more than once in the excited anticipation of the bath.

When the kids finally get into the tub, it's a balancing act between Gobbles hunting for toys while trying to avoid being waterboarded with the bucket being dumped over his head to wet his hair and the Lobster climbing over everything and again cheering for the fact that she's now in the tub.  She practices stepping around Gobbles and holding onto the back wall, faucet, an tub side.  When I try to wash her hair, she's always leaning over the side so no water stays in the tub.  There was even a point where she's picked up an entire bucket full of water and dumper it over the side.  We're now onto her actions and can quickly grab anything that seems to spill over the side of the tub.

Our only problem - when she spills a little something into the tub.  Yup, twice now our lovely little lady dropped a little dooty right into the tub.  The first time both hubs and I were both there so hubs was able to "catch" it in a bucket and get it into the toilet.  The second time I wasn't so lucky, bathing both kids by myself and actually taking pictures for this blog.  The lobster leaned on the side of the tub and made her "i'm gonna go" face.  Before I could react, Gobbles screamed Ewww! She poopyed in the tub!! Ahhh Mommy it scares me!  I scooped Gobbles out of the tub, wrapped him in a towel, and sent him out of the room.  Next, I did the same with the Lobster Roll but held her in one hand, grabbed a wipe with the other, reached into the tub and grabbed the floating offender and tossed it in the toilet. 

Who knew something as routine as bathtime could be so dramatic and exciting?  Never a dull moment with these two,  keeping me on my toes always.

yay!!! it's my favorite time of day!

C'mon momma! Into the tub let's go let's go!!

Hey Gobbles - are you bathing yourself?  Can I borrow that?

Ok, time to splash!

Whoops, may have spilled some!

-Here, lemme just clean that up. 
-Lobster, stay IN the tub like mommy says!

Ok I'll stay - lemme have this bucket@

Ok, enough of the bucket - lemme wash Gobbles' hair!

 

What does this knob do? 

Annddd.... Yes I do have a picture of the Lobster's worst offense...  I texted it to hubs and he laughed.  He owes me.  I'm sure she's going to do it again because she's crazy.  I'll spare you the graphic because well I'm sure a description was good enough.

Happy Bathing...

In a rut

Many years ago I was the captain of my high school soccer team. A decade ago my paddling partner and I set our university record for race placement on a national level for concrete canoe. A few years after that I competed in a pair of sprint triathlons and a pile of races, actually placing in 5ks twice in my age group with a PR of 24.06. Friday, I went for a run and failed to complete 2 miles, and after 20 minutes of sloughing down the path decided to call it quits. I felt like crying, it was pathetic. I called hubs but since he's been in the trenches all week at work (got home at 3:41 am yesterday morning only to leave again a few hours later), he had neither time nor sympathy for me.  Today, everyone on Facebook posted their joy about getting into the broad street lottery, which I didn't even bother to register for this year, knowing I have no time or motivation to train.  I feel like wallowing thinking about how, six years ago, I finished that race in 1:24:25.  I would give anything to run one mile in under 8 and a half minutes now, let alone 10 at that pace.  There was even one year I trained for a marathon, managing to get a stress fracture three months into training after a 14 mile run and was never able to build myself back up before entering motherhood.

I used to be an athlete.  Even after Gobbles was born, I went back to playing soccer at 8 weeks postpartum and continued playing until I was 8 weeks pregnant with the Lobster Roll.  But in the past 13 months since my 2nd baby was born, I've gone from motivated mom of two to stressed out schlub who cannot even stick to her weight watchers plan for more than 4 days straight without polishing off a TUB of leftover icing on day 5.  Since I resolved to start counting points again, I have gained and lost the same 5 lbs over a repeated 8 day cycle of strict tracking followed by binging.

I've always had a somewhat strained relationship with my body. When I was younger, the sheer amount of physical stress it went through via sports was a challenge I would push myself through and beat myself up if I couldn't perform as expected. I would take pride in the bruises - battle scars - that would appear after a rough soccer match and talked with pride of my messy ligaments from years of wear on the basketball court.

In late high school and beyond, I began to realize that as soon as I wasn't regularly attending a sports practice, the weight would creep up. I would look at my friends with envy as I realized I was in a different weight class altogether and could no longer hide behind the "athletic" excuse for weighing as much as I did. My relationship with food is totally love / hate, one day I'm a proud weight watchers point counter and the next I'm scarfing down brownies like chips. I've always struggled to find the balance for my body, with the "hate" part of the food relationship always coming during periods of inactivity.  Back in college when sticking to a strict gym schedule, I was in great shape (didn't realize it then of course) and therefore didn't shy away from eating an entire pizza in a sitting, because I'd burn it off the next day. 

I've lamented before about pregnancy and weight gain, but it's crazy that even with two totally different pregnancies, two totally different delivery methods, here I sit after my child's first birthday celebration feeling the same way - weak- and even older and worse off the second time around.  During this 6 year period or whatever it is that I'm spending having kids, part of me feels like I should just give myself a pass and not worry so much about weight or fitness in between pregnancies. But there is a bigger part of me that wants, craves, more than anything to be able to do all the things my body could do before it did what I'm most proud of, give me two beautiful kids.

Five months after Gobbles was born, I declared myself back to "pre-pregnancy" weight. It took me another five months just to lose 8 more pounds to get me to my weight watchers goal. It was around this time I was finally feeling strong again, not getting my butt kicked at soccer, and able to do push ups again without being sore for days. My showing at the broad street run when Gobbles was 17 months wasn't pathetic, but it was 22 minutes slower than my finish pre-pregnancy. I suppose I could chalk it up to lack of training or age, but now after trying to get back in shape after the 2nd pregnancy, I feel like my prime has long since passed.

Part of me is afraid to get back to it hard core because the last time I started working out again, right before we moved, I felt like my C-Section scar would burst open and my uterus would fall out I was in so much pain.  But then I think of my own moods, my snapping at the kids because I'm tired and impatient, my reluctance to get off the couch because the tv is a nice distraction, and that kind of mental pain is so much worse. 

Where is my desire to download some good music and just escape for a half hour, knowing upon my return I will be more focused, a better mom, and just one step closer to feeling good? 

I'm not sure where the motivation is, but I'm looking to get it back.  Last night when I picked up the kids from school, one of the teachers was selling girl scout cookies in the lobby.  I resisted because I know myself and the entire box would be gone in a second.  I told her just this and then started on a tangent about my lack of motivation to work out, etc.  (Have I mentioned before that these teachers double as my therapist too?  They listen to me go on and on all the time about my non-child related problems.  I love these women).  She told me that a group of them have been running 5ks for a bit and that I should do some with them.  So I think I will, because I need something to be held accountable to.  Something to distract me from the scale, which ironically would probably fall into place after I stop hyperfocusing on it and turn my motivation to healthier outcomes.  Heck, maybe I'll even take on a mud run.

So, here's to hoping I can snap out of this rut and get moving again, be a better me for me, in turn making me a better mom for them and a better wife to their father:


<3 td="">

Ohhh, so the reason you wanted to make chocolate covered strawberries was to eat the extra chocolate, huh?

 

Sibling Revelry

When the Lil Lobster Roll was just a wee one, we spent a lot of time worrying about Gobbles and the adjustments he'd have to make sharing his attention, parents, and toys.  We never really thought about the fact that he was gaining a full time playmate at home, someone to laugh at his jokes, someone to tickle, someone to hug. 

Since the Lobster's been coming into her own, crawling, talking (somewhat), pointing to this and that, misbehaving, taking her first steps (up to 7 at once now, but hubs won't let me say it's walking yet!)and laughing at everything, we've gotten to witness a change in Gobbles.  A change that is almost, sort of, maternal.  Either that or he just loves to repeat everything I say and do, including both affection and discipline for his baby sister. 

He's even made up a nickname for her- whenever his sister is chasing after him, furiously clamoring on all fours as quickly as she can, he shouts "Here comes the (lobster)-Lady Alligator!" and they both crack up as if they have their own little inside joke going.  We still have no idea where it came from, and sometimes Cannoli is the Cannoli Alligator, but regardless it's the cutest term of endearment ever when it comes from the little big bro. 

Every morning at breakfast, when I'm making lunches for the day and the Lobster declares her meal over by throwing a cup on the ground and tossing food over the side of the high chair I hear No THROW Lobster!  Here.  I'll give you your cup one more time but if you throw it again that's it, I'm taking it from you.   Gobbles proceeds to get out of his seat and pick up the cup for his sister, admonish her one more time, and give her a tickle for extra measure. 

In the car, where extended read facing is slowly killing me, the Lobster Roll cries every time we strap her in.  I start to sing because that seems to be the only thing that calms her, but once in awhile Gobbles will take over because, according to him, my singing is NOT beautiful.  True indeed.  He'll play a game with his sister and reach out to grab her hand, slapping 5 before taking his hand back.  Repeat.  It lasts with enough time to get to school.

On rough mornings, it seems to be the Lobster helping out her big brother.  She's easier to wake for school than he, and will come in with me all cheery to give her brother a huge hug to wake up.  Sometimes if I try and wake Gobbles up first it's where's my sister, I want my baby! 

Sure, it's not always the Full-House-esque picture I painted above.  When we're just hanging out playing with toys, typically the Lobster wants EVERYTHING that Gobbles is playing with.  After he relents to out Please share with her, she's smaller than you, he finds something new and she is all of the sudden interested in that.  He's been pretty patient, but we also have the preemptive strike.  If she picks up one of his toys that has gone ignored and neglected for weeks, all of the sudden The Lobster's taking my stuff!  Lobster - you CAN'T have that, you're too little! 

Or there's the occasion where Gobbles is deliriously tired from not napping and doing as three year old boys do - bopping around the room with the grace of an elephant, and we repeatedly warn him - watch out for your sister.  It seems when we warn him is when it happens - he falls on top of her.  Commence screaming by the Lobster, comfort by the parents, guilty frustration by the Gobbles, and an attempt to reaffirm our LISTENING EARS PLEASE.

So we're trying to work all this out, it's weird to sit back and think how my daughter is going to have such a different outlook on many things than her brother just from where she falls in line.  I wonder what ways her journey as the 2nd child, or middle child if we can be so lucky, will be different than mine (the 2nd & middle child of 3 girls).  Obviously having a big brother is different than a sister, but will I treat her as if I "know how she feels"?  I guess it's just another thing in parenting where you just keep doing your best every day, and hope they look back and said you did things right.

In the meantime, I couldn't thing of any greater thing than watching the joy my children bring to each other, and in turn to me and their Daddy, every. single. day.

C'mon Lobstah - Just DANCE

Mommy - She's knocking me OVER!

I just wanted him out of the way so I could look for my puppy!

There he is - mmm kisses!

C'mon Lobster! Up those steps - March!

Mommy Look she's taking my glove off!

LOVE

Well I'm not so sleepy this time.  Lemme take what he's got while he doesn't care!

Ha - now the puppy wants ME!

Lobster - just get used to the camera, I'm telling you it's NEVER. Gonna. Stop.

Tickle Tickle Tickle

BONK.  A little toooo much fun.

Big Hurdles, Little Blessings

Last week Gobbles had his semi-annual visit to the opthomologist.  She advised us to bring the Lobster Roll along this time so they could take a peek.  Hubs and I both went because these appointments typically drag on, and with both kids being poked and prodded we knew they'd need some snuggles throughout the process.

We arrived about 1:00 to Nemours just as snow was starting to fall and hurried up to the Opthamology suite.  I filled out the necessary paperwork for the Lobster's first visit and paid copays while hubs took the kids to the waiting area.  Gobbles immediately decided he was bored and started clinging to me while hubs held the Lobster's hand and walked her up and down the hallway, so familiar to us from all of our visits during the attempts to figure out the underlying reasons behind Gobbles' extreme myopia. 

After the children were called we spent more time waiting inside the exam room, marvelling at how our first time there Gobbles was just 3 months older than the Lobster is now.  The nurse came in and started with some family history with the Lobster as well as any current concerns with Gobbles, so we pointed out that he holds things extremely close when he's trying to read them.  She did a quick exam with Gobbles wearing his current glasses, examining each eye one at a time.  Of course, my three year old with his matter-of-factness pointed out that I could see much better if I can look with both eyes!  Oh my buddy.

He named the pictures he saw across the room until he couldn't any more, answering with an "I don't know" or "I can't see it".  It frustrated the nurse somewhat because she wasn't able to tell if he couldn't identify the pictures or he couldn't see.   We told her to go to letters, since he knows them, but she opted to stick with the pictures, because well a 3 year old should have no problem identifying an old-style telephone, right?  Regardless, as she made them bigger he was able to identify again, so our suspicions were confirmed that his prescription had changed.  Again.

The doctor came in for a quick review ordered dilation for both kids.  Getting drops is something that's been done to me a million times, but I still cringe when I see my poor babies struggling and squirming to close their eyes while the drops are being put in, especially when there's a miss and they have to do it again.  We were sent back to the waiting room for the drops to take effect.  The kids again were getting antsy, eating the fishies I packed and chasing each other around, not wanting any of the toys I packed or having a desire to play with the activities in the hospital.  We brought them to the windows to look at the snow, then Daddy took Gobbles to watch TV in another waiting area, and let the Lobster fall asleep on my chest.  After an hour, we were called back in, only to wait about 20 minutes in the exam room.

Gobbles went first, identifying the same images he'd seen before, only this time the doctor was attempting to hold certain lenses in front of him, and at one point tried to slip them into a pair of exam glasses and get them onto Gobble's face.  That didn't seem to work very well and pretty soon we had a whiny, uncooperative kid, so she had to resort to the methods she employed when Gobbles was younger.

A few people have asked me how they do an eye exam on someone so little, how the prescription can be measured with accuracy when surrounded by so much uncertainty.  During Gobbles first exam when he was 15 months, they would take the prescription lens, hold it in front of his eye, then shine a light onto the eye.  If the light reflected from the back of his eye shone back clear and direct, then the prescription was right, if it reflected out of the eye muddled, then it was not strong enough. 

After she was finished with the lights, she turned to us with a look that said everything.  Our little boy's eyes have gotten worse yet again.  We asked at what point can they get so bad that he won't correct to 20/20 with glasses, and she informed us he's not there yet, but could be in a few years.  Again, no real answers because she still has no idea why his eyes are the way they are given that Sticklers has been ruled out.  We discussed sports, as Gobbles is getting to the age where peewee soccer and t-ball are just around the corner.  She said that his retinas still look in decent enough shape that he can play, wearing goggles, but again we need to revisit this on every appointment. 

Again I went back to the correction to 20/20, and when she thinks this would be a problem, flashing to my little guy starting school an being forced to sit up front in every classroom, or not being able to get his driver's license like every other teenager's right of passage.  His doctor looked at us sympathetically again and told us she didn't know, as long as his eyes are growing they will likely get worse, but there may be a stopping point, but we wouldn't know anything for certain until after puberty.  She emphasized that technology in medicine is changing year after year, so by the time his eyes may get to the point of no return, there may be a return.  As comforting as her tone sounded, her words still left me feeling hollow.

Hubs and I decided to stop with the questions because the more we talked, the more uneasy Gobbles became, as he is now old enough to sense our worry.  That was probably the hardest part, trying to mask our concern to him but express to the doctor that we want to know all there is to know.  Gobbles crawled into my lap for a nice hug while Hubs grabbed the Lobster and got into the exam chair with her on his lap. 

Thankfully, the Lobster's exam went stellar and she is seeing exactly as she should be for a 12 month old.  The doctor reiterated that deterioration could start at any time, but she has no concerns for the time being and we can just follow up with the Lobster's eye exams as if she were a regular kid.  Here's to hoping she's got her Daddy's eyes thru and thru.

As we placed the order for Gobbles' new glasses the other night, hubs and I were differentiating on what frames to get.  I wanted something plastic, more comfortable, since my little man falls asleep on the couch a lot with them on.  Gobbles saw a cute pair of black and red frames that I was looking at and said he wanted them because they looked like spiderman.  Hubs, expressing an insecurity I'd never previously seen, insisted that we get a pair that looks similar to what Gobbles wears now, thin wire frames (this time with those tiny nosepads, the reason I didn't want them for discomfort).  He said that he didn't want GLASSES to be the first thing people saw when they looked at our child, that the ones he had now blend in nicely as opposed the the plastic ones I selected that would swallow him whole.  He felt that there was more of a chance of Gobbles getting teased the more blatant his glasses were.  I gave in and let hubs order the more subtle ones, because I think I was taken aback by his unusual anxiety about it.  We will continue to encourage our little boy to be who he wants and not worry about his peers (who I think are all too sweet and nice to ever say anything, but I might be naive), and maybe next year we'll be ready for Gobbles to make a fashion statement.