Fruit in my dessert

the right baskets...or, how i lost my mind at Ikea today

So, I've had a love/ambivalent relationship with Ikea over the years. Early on in my adult years, they helped me get quality furniture at a decent price. No one could really tell that the drawers and backs were made of cardboard, and it was sturdy stuff. And, I could put it together myself and feel my handy genes at work. I had a few pieces that lasted years (or until, after unbuilding and rebuilding a piece several times because of moves, B would say, "this is the last time we're putting this back together.") We were able to sell our remaining bookshelves and dressers when we moved last fall, and only have a couple of nightstands left from the original collection.

But, now, we have kids and toys, and a smaller space, and a need for creative storage that doesn't cost what an heirloom piece would. And, as you may recall, I have serious issues with clutter (not your clutter, mine), particularly during times of transition and stress. A long time ago, in an effort to prove to myself that I could spend money if it made sense, and it wouldn't kill me - I spent WAY too much money at the Container Store for a toy solution. I've regretted it ever since. As has H, since he's been injured more than once by the sharp edges of the pieces I got there.

Then, I became a fan of the EXPEDIT series at Ikea. I first saw it a friend's house in her son's room. ANd, didn't think for a million years that it could have been Ikea. And, I should have known better. She's a (clothing) designer and her husband's an architect. Their place has that effortlessly designed vibe and I love it. And they had stained the shelf to look even more awesome. Anyways, EXPEDIT comes in multiple sizes and colors, so when we moved last fall, I thought of a few places it would be good to put for H's toys. Except, it turns out it doesn't come in the sizes I want, and thus NEED. No amount of remeasuring or reconfiguring will change this fact (trust me, I've tried). But then, I realized we could get the smallest version of it for our bathroom. So, several months later, we finally did. And then we needed baskets for the shelves...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha. And that fact has cost me what I would approximate as a combined total of 27 days (not sequential). I have searched and searched for the right baskets for those shelves - and yes, I know Ikea has several options, but I didn't LOVE them, and most other places that have baskets, online and off, don't have them in the right size. By "right," I mean exactly what I want. And I know what I want. So I keep thinking that I'll find it. Well, today, after returning one option (where I actually built and installed a drawer and then uninstalled, un-built, and re-flat-packed said drawer), I went shopping in Ikea where I knew all of the product by heart, and had more than one self-contained breakdown, and at least three on the phone with B (that were potentially visible to other customers, including one in which I could not find my way to the right section. I had backtracked so many times that I couldn't remember if I was supposed to walk with or against the arrows and if the short cuts were actually going to get me to more BASKETS). After getting over (almost or temporarily) the shame and embarrassment of having a breakdown about baskets, I finally compromised (with myself) and got baskets that I don't love but I think we'll keep, mostly because I'm giving up. For now. Because I really want the BIGGEST version of the shelf for H's room...but that required too many other questions to be answered first, including the kids sharing a room and when, paint colors, bed sizes and configurations...you get the drift.

I will say, as much as I'm sure someone could psychoanalyze my clutter and choice issues to tell me what they are "really" about, and I have some ideas about that myself, I really think most of this is really about the baskets. Psychoanalyze that. I sure will.

A night off

It was a typical day of late followed by a magical evening that sort of just unfolded and I had the good sense (if I do say so myself) to recognize it and let it happen. L went down at 7 with a blowout and no bath. Don't worry, I wiped her up good, she was just wiped (hee hee) so I swaddled her up and put her down. H had taken a really long nap today because I fell asleep so he woke me up instead of the other way around. Oops. Usually I bath and bed them at the same time, but I decided to let him stay up "late." It had been an afternoon of me counting to three and giving him two choices and seemingly constant not-fun interaction, or rather me talking and him not responding, so I decided the evening would go another way. No choices for him to make, nothing "unfun" for him to do, just peaceful mommy and H time. If he wanted it, he got it (thank goodness he doesn't even know to ask for anything crazy yet). I even proactively offered him a treat - which we shared - after dinner - I know, crazy.

We Skyped with "the girls" and Auntie C, read some books, did bath. For the first time in a long time it was just me and him, him and me, doing our old routine together. We brushed teeth, read another book cuddled up on the couch, and then he didn't want to go to bed. This is a fairly new development because we have recently transitioned from sitting in the hallway outside his room while he goes to sleep (which started months ago as sitting next to his bed) to just putting him to bed and leaving - which means going a whole 10 feet down the hall to the couch or the dining room area. And, yes, he knows. So we've had many nights of him coming out several times, sometimes less, and being put back to bed. There's laughing (mostly on his part), crying, yelling, threatening, silence, all sorts of stuff on any given night. So, tonight, I decided we needed a night off from this too.

I carried my big boy into his room like he was my baby - because he still is. I danced with him in the dark and sang (sadly for him, even with all of his Music Together training, he still considers the noise coming out of my mouth "singing") and then sat on the chair with him in the dark with his head on my shoulder as his body got a bit tired and relaxed and then I put him in bed and sat by his bed and rubbed his back for a bit. He didn't utter a word for almost all of this time. It took a while and there's lots of stuff I could have been doing, and there's fear that I've backpedaled our "progress" on bedtime, but there's nothing I would have rather done tonight, and I dare say the same for him. He's still my baby and we both needed a night off from pretending he's not.

S***show

So, I'm pretty sure someone hacked my blog to write that last post about two not being harder than one. I mean, the sentiment is great, but it really feels like a s***show around here these days. I don't write posts like this often because I really, really don't want comments where people are all supportive and tell me it will get better and we're doing great, etc. Seriously, I don't. Ask my mom and my sister and my husband. I know all that already, but right now I'm tired and cranky and want to live in this moment.

I was having breakfast with a friend the other day - she also just had her second - and I was saying how I'm not being the mom I want to be right now and that's probably the hardest part of this. Not that H and I didn't have our tough days and moments before but we had our relationship down, our family of three, our individual and collective dynamics. And, well, now it's a s***show. I'm mourning the relationship I had with my son - I don't want to yell at him when he drops/throws his sister across the room. I don't want to tell him to stop turning the light switch on and off for the millionth time. I don't want to tell him to not go over to L's crib and try to wake her up from her nap. I don't want him to cry to me because HE wanted to get the wipes for me and I already had them in my hand. I know much of this is two and a half year old behavior without the baby sister part, but it does feel quite amplified. I want all the fabulous moments. I'll keep the ones where he kisses L all over and tells me that he loves her, or when he wakes up from a nap all tired and cute and puts his head down on her chest to rest a little bit more and snuggle with her. Or when he says, "I want L to come over and read the story with us." Or when he shows her a postcard of AMNH and says, "L, that's OUR museum." Or when he sees something and says, "L, did you see that?" I know, just like with one, and with everything else, you can't pick and choose which parts you want, but why not already?

I'm also mourning my relationship with my husband. We went through this the first time too, a period of unrest, needing to find our way again, our new normal. But like everything else right now, it just feels amplified. I think I'm also less patient - like yeah, yeah, I know we need to go through this, but can we move on already?

The same friend I went to breakfast with the other day told me about an analogy that her husband's best friend (who already has two) shared with her husband when he asked what he could do to not make her "hate" him right now. The more experienced father of two said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "You're like the president of BP, your kids are the oil, and your wife is the Louisiana coast line. Your kids are spilling out all over the place and severely damaging your wife, and there's nothing you can say or do to make it better." This made my day for several reasons: 1. it's so true, 2. it's so timely, and 3. it's so true. Hopefully, we, our husbands, and the Louisiana coastline* will all recover as quickly as possible.

I'd be remiss if I didn't say how much I am loving L. She's so damn awesome. She smiles at me - and other people too, and laughs, and watches and listens to everything her brother does. I really think she loves him already. She goes along for the ride, wherever it takes us, and is being very cooperative at night. Like her mom, she lets me know IMMEDIATELY when there's a problem and I do my best to solve it as quickly as possible. I go between wanting her to get older faster so I can discover more about her and how the family and sibling dynamics will work themselves out, and wanting her to be this cute little age forever. I could do without the blowouts though...and there, we've come full circle. It's all a s***show.

*And, no, I am not really trying to say that what we are going through is the same as the death and horrific devastation caused by the BP oil spill.

S***show

So, I'm pretty sure someone hacked my blog to write that last post about two not being harder than one. I mean, the sentiment is great, but it really feels like a s***show around here these days. I don't write posts like this often because I really, really don't want comments where people are all supportive and tell me it will get better and we're doing great, etc. Seriously, I don't. Ask my mom and my sister and my husband. I know all that already, but right now I'm tired and cranky and want to live in this moment.

I was having breakfast with a friend the other day - she also just had her second - and I was saying how I'm not being the mom I want to be right now and that's probably the hardest part of this. Not that H and I didn't have our tough days and moments before but we had our relationship down, our family of three, our individual and collective dynamics. And, well, now it's a s***show. I'm mourning the relationship I had with my son - I don't want to yell at him when he drops/throws his sister across the room. I don't want to tell him to stop turning the light switch on and off for the millionth time. I don't want to tell him to not go over to L's crib and try to wake her up from her nap. I don't want him to cry to me because HE wanted to get the wipes for me and I already had them in my hand. I know much of this is two and a half year old behavior without the baby sister part, but it does feel quite amplified. I want all the fabulous moments. I'll keep the ones where he kisses L all over and tells me that he loves her, or when he wakes up from a nap all tired and cute and puts his head down on her chest to rest a little bit more and snuggle with her. Or when he says, "I want L to come over and read the story with us." Or when he shows her a postcard of AMNH and says, "L, that's OUR museum." Or when he sees something and says, "L, did you see that?" I know, just like with one, and with everything else, you can't pick and choose which parts you want, but why not already?

I'm also mourning my relationship with my husband. We went through this the first time too, a period of unrest, needing to find our way again, our new normal. But like everything else right now, it just feels amplified. I think I'm also less patient - like yeah, yeah, I know we need to go through this, but can we move on already?

The same friend I went to breakfast with the other day told me about an analogy that her husband's best friend (who already has two) shared with her husband when he asked what he could do to not make her "hate" him right now. The more experienced father of two said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "You're like the president of BP, your kids are the oil, and your wife is the Louisiana coast line. Your kids are spilling out all over the place and severely damaging your wife, and there's nothing you can say or do to make it better." This made my day for several reasons: 1. it's so true, 2. it's so timely, and 3. it's so true. Hopefully, we, our husbands, and the Louisiana coastline* will all recover as quickly as possible.

I'd be remiss if I didn't say how much I am loving L. She's so damn awesome. She smiles at me - and other people too, and laughs, and watches and listens to everything her brother does. I really think she loves him already. She goes along for the ride, wherever it takes us, and is being very cooperative at night. Like her mom, she lets me know IMMEDIATELY when there's a problem and I do my best to solve it as quickly as possible. I go between wanting her to get older faster so I can discover more about her and how the family and sibling dynamics will work themselves out, and wanting her to be this cute little age forever. I could do without the blowouts though...and there, we've come full circle. It's all a s***show.

*And, no, I am not really trying to say that what we are going through is the same as the death and horrific devastation caused by the BP oil spill.

Two is not harder than one

Context is everything. When I was pregnant with my second child only eight and a half weeks ago, many people we know (and some we don't) who have two or more children, particularly those who've had their second child in the last couple of years, would say to us how much harder it was going to be for us to have two children rather than one. One person I barely know actually said to me, "you're in for a whole new world of hurt." Seriously? Even if that is true, how is that remotely helpful? Well, 2 months in to the "madness", I disagree. Two is not harder than one.

With the context of knowing what one was like, and having just had one child for the last two and a half years, well, sure, that seems easier - now. It was not easy eight and a half weeks ago. Or for the two and a half years before that. It was really hard, exhausting in fact. I loved most of it, but it was work - a lot of work - all the time. So, sure, now that I have two, some days (today being one of them) I want to bang my head against a wall, or even a soft pillow, and I look back at my very recent days of having one, and think of them as somehow easier, less complicated. But they weren't. And, in some ways, they were harder. What I mean is, "Two is not harder than one WAS," even though, "Two seems harder than one IS."

This jibberish makes me think of that phrase that some of my religiously inclined friends and family like: "God only gives you what you can handle." While I don't believe that entirely, in part because I'm not sure what I believe about God, and even if I do believe in a higher power, he/she/it has definitely missed the mark on giving some people I know what they can handle...or maybe it's the walking in someone else's shoes phrase...never mind. Neither of these are fitting here.

My point is, one was hard and glorious, two is difficult and wonderful. However many you have or don't have, I think you (in the spirit of the World Cup) Just Do It. Great - I meant to be profound and I quoted Nike.

Letting go

Today, Henry and I went to the playground - a newer one for us, a bit quieter and smaller than our usual hangouts. Lucy came too, but she isn't quite ready to "play." We started out doing bubbles, just the two of us, an activity that can make me anxious because I get nervous the whole playground will swarm us and I'll wind up in charge of navigating a whole bunch of kids trying to get at my kid's bubbles and madness will inevitably ensue (even though we always bring extra bubble makers). But, the kids on this playground were way too involved in a seemingly complicated game of tag involving children ages 2-8 who were quite impressively, if not a bit aggressively, playing with each other. One little girl came over to play with us - she was about 5 - and I had no trouble navigating the sharing that went on there. She was quite kind to Henry for the most part. I only once had to remind her that they were his bubbles so she might not want to grab the whole thing away from him like that. At one point she told me, "this is stressful," because she couldn't get a bubble to form in her bubble maker. I'm pretty sure I didn't know the word stressful at five. But that's a post for another day.

Anyways, part of my concern when other kids come to "share" Henry's stuff is that it will stress him out or he won't enjoy himself as much as he would on his own, that it will be scary to navigate the situation - projecting, anyone? When the sharing of the bubble tray was getting too much for him (I think) and his bubbles weren't working as well as hers (I mean, she's 5 after all), he decided to chase around after the bubbles she was making instead. Nice. After a while, the little girl got bored with the bubbles and ran off to rejoin the game on the playground. And, Henry went too.

My first inclination was to follow him, as we are usually pretty close by, if not directly underneath him, when he's climbing up things that are taller than he is. But I noticed none of the other caregivers were at the play structure, and there were kids seemingly his age running around unattended. It was a "little kid" play structure, and they all seemed to be playing well, big kids minding where the little kids were, etc. so I stayed back - a whole 15-20 feet. Lucy started crying so I picked her up out of the stroller and walked with her and kept an eye on Henry as he jumped and climbed and watched the kids play. He followed the little girl a bit - who was a big girl to him. He was sort of trying to insert himself in their play - the first time I think he's ever done that with big kids that he didn't know at all. At one point, as he jumped from thing to thing on the play structure, I asked him if he wanted me to help him (last time we were here, he had asked for my help) and he yelled back to me, "I no need help." The child development person in me was so proud of what she was seeing, while the mommy - or "momma" as he's retaken to calling me lately, was verklempt - and is a bit teary as she writes this, too.

We stayed for a while longer, he came to me to get a head rub briefly after the girl he was following kicked him in the head. I think it was an accident, but she didn't seem too concerned. (Side note: her caregiver mentioned something to the effect of "get in line" when I mentioned my son was following her...yikes.) He even asked me to ask her and his "friends" to play with him at one point toward the end. I know I have a new baby, but where has my baby gone?!!? He must have known I was getting misty though, because right before we left, he asked for my help to hop one more time from thing to thing. Thanks, H.

By the way, while I have your attention, tonight's episode of Friday Night Lights was called, "Stay," and it's all about letting go. Watch it - tonight, and every week. It's the best show ever.