I can’t really fathom what a huge change this is going to make in my life.  Aside from two mornings a week, I’ve had Violet home with me for five years.  Five and a half.  That’s a long time to keep a tiny maniac from completing her plans of world domination.  Yes I’ll still be at home with Graham, but that is another story entirely.  I must say I am really looking forward to spending time with him.  He has been competing for attention since the day he was born and I’d love to see him relax and know he doesn’t have to try so hard.  I want to make cookies, do art projects, garden, with just him.  These are things I do with both kids, but generally Violet has to star in the show.

Which is why I am not worried about how she will do in school; even with the dual-language. I mean, in some ways I feel like I should warn her teachers, but I’d hate to give them preconceived notions.  Example: During swim lessons this summer the teen-aged instructor finally got fed up with Violet and another girl giggling and inching away from class.  They got sent into Time Out.  The girl burst into tears.  Violet looked at her with an expression of extreme surprise and said, “What are you crying for?  It just Time Out!”  I really hope her kindergarten teachers know how to channel that energy rather than sending her to endless exhile.  Her other “schools” never seemed to be able to do that.

I’ll admit it; when I was little, I was the kid who cried when disciplined. My personality is so opposite Violet’s that I often think she is some kind of alien child; like that dream I had when I was pregnant with her actually came true.   It’s clear I subconsciously assumed that if I had a girl she would be a mini-me; that I would always be able to relate to her and, thus, be better able to help her.  The truth is, although she looks more like me each day, she is a mini-Rob: outgoing, talkative, creative, high-energy, a leader, a performer, impossibly smart.  I don’t know what advice I could possibly offer to that kind of kid.  And will I understand her less and less the more she is gone?

We’re going to miss her.  She and Graham have decided they want to be twins so they can be together all day.  I just wish I could be a fly on the wall while she navigates through this next step.  I don’t want to rescue her, I just want to watch.  That would be the best reality TV show ever.

So almost a year ago we embarked on an experiment: put the kids in the same room for the summer.  Were we successful?

Well, that depends on how you define “success”.

If by success you mean that the kids learned to sleep in the same room happily all summer, then no.  We failed failed failed.

But let’s not focus on the negative, eh?  I’m counting the experience as a success because we accomplished two important things: 1) a smooth transition for Graham from crib to bed, and 2) the ability to survive family vacations.

I can’t take total credit for helping Graham deal with the weirdness of moving from a cozy crib to a giant bed.  Violet did all that for me.  He learned by example that big kids sleep in beds, with pillows and blankets.  Seems simple, but Violet had a very hard time with this when she was two.

As for the family vacations, while nights weren’t always perfect, it was such a relief to have flexibility in our sleeping arrangements.  We’ve gone to Oregon, Washington, New York, the hill country, and twice to the beach.  An added bonus is that when people visit us, the kids can be put in one room and the other can be used for guests.  (So come visit!  No more sleeping in the living room!  You’ll still have to wake up at the crack of dawn, though.)

What I’m trying to say is that we may have lost some battles, but we won the war.  (Okay, so technically we just won the sleep battle and the kids are still waging general war.  Update on that in a couple decades.)  Meanwhile, here are some room sharing tips:

• Don’t expect perfection the first night, or even the second.
• You may have to sit in the room with them until they are calm(ish).  Also, we are not above threats and bribes.
• If possible, position the beds so that the kids are out of each other’s direct line of sight.
• A sound machine can help.
• A toddler clock can help, especially in the morning.  (Be warned, you may have to physically dismantle the “alarm feature” because it “accidentally” gets turned on.  This enrages me like nothing else.)

Any other tips to add?  Vacations to invite us on?

Would you apply for this job?  Of course not.  But that’s what the life of a stay-at-home-mom feels like sometimes.

Am I complaining about my lame little 1st world problems?  Yes.  But it’s entirely possible for a person to go completely bonkers in a safe cozy home stocked with food and equipped modern conveniences.  I’m just trying to gain some perspective and explain why I’ve been a big giant raw nerve lately.

Let’s brainstorm some of our Roadblocks to Sanity:

• The end of naps means the end of any kind of daily break for me.
• Violet and Graham are not “easy” kids.  They don’t play independently for more than 5 minutes (and trust me, I’ve being trying to instill this ability in them forever).  They need more stimulation and energy than I can possibly give them by myself.
• Graham is unbelievably mommy-centric.  He will not allow Rob to do the most mundane chore for him.  Put on socks?  NEVER!  Make lunch?  FORGET IT!  (Tickle monster chase?  Sometimes…. ) It’s much easier to give in than withstand yet another hour of screaming.  The result is that Rob is on the sidelines at a time in our parenting lives when I need more help than ever.  This is seriously frustrating for a great father and husband.
• Because of the above, our to-do list grows ever longer and more overwhelming.

So what can I do about this?  I’ve got some ideas:

• Sit in a coffee shop with my computer both mornings they’re in school.  SIT. JUST SIT!  Try not to spend the entire time working.
• Spend more time with friends.  Drag myself there.  I always feel better afterwards.
• Eat well, exercise, vitamins… yada yada
• go out on more dates
• more wine?

Any others?    I know this stage is not forever.  And please understand that I also realize how lucky I am to have healthy kids and a wonderful husband.  Nevertheless, I’m endlessly surprised at the always-changing ways this whole parenting thing is HARD.  We want to find ways to enjoy it, not fight it.

Thankfully, no office coworkers are as cute or sweet as Violet and Graham… and I’m assuming they don’t snuggle as well.

VIOLET:  Mom, when is dinner?

ME:  Dinner was two hours ago and you didn’t eat it.  That’s it.

V:  But Mom!  I’m hungry!  I want dinner!

M:  I guess you missed your chance to eat dinner.  I’m not making you another one.

V (furiously):  If you don’t make me something to eat, I’m going to EAT YOU!!

GRAHAM (panicked):  No!!! Don’t eat Mommy!

V (still furious):  Graham, if you don’t let me eat Mommy, I’m going to EAT YOU TOO!

G (still panicked):  Nooo!  Don’t eat me!

V (soothing):  Graham, I won’t eat you if you let me eat Mommy.  Okay?

G: NOO!!!

V: Okay?

G:  No.

V: Okay?

G: NO!

Car and argument continue down the road. Dinner is not mentioned again.

We got an invitation a few weeks ago to a kid birthday party.  In it I was amazed to find a note indicating where the child was registered for gifts.  I have to admit that I was, well, a little creeped out.  Imagining any kid wandering through a toy store, marking down all the items she will definitely get at her birthday party just seems wrong.  Doesn’t that just take the fun, creativity and surprise out of it?  Doesn’t it seem like it would make the child feel a bit too entitled?  Don’t they need to learn how to smile and pretend that they like a present that actually sucks?

The more I thought about it, though, the more interesting the idea became.  What if I was the one to walk through the store and register?  Wouldn’t that avoid all those toys that the kids say they want just because they think it looks fun at the store?  Would that allow me to be sure they’d get appropriate items and not, say, slutty dolls or BB guns?  Wouldn’t it be helpful for out-of-town grandparents or childless family members who have no idea what kids like?  Or would that make me too much of a control freak?

What do you think?  Is a kid registry a good idea, or just creepy?

Father’s Day.  Awesome.  Not surprisingly, Graham had no trouble taking his first ever nap alone in his big-boy bed.

2nd night: Asleep by 9pm instead of 10.  Graham woke up screaming at 2:30am  This was my biggest fear.  How would Violet react to Graham’s scream-for-20-minutes-before-sleeping-MO?  So I tip-toed to the door and heard Violet,”What’s wrong Graham?” “I scared.”  “Did you have a bad dream?”  “Yeah.”  “It’s okay.  It’s still night, so you can go to sleep again.”  “Okay, goodnight.”   WHAA???  Okay, so they actually chatted for 45 minutes and then fell asleep.  But still.  No mommy involvement needed?  Rock on!

3rd night: 10 million trips to the bathroom.  Slept 9 to 6.  (Instead of their usual 8-7)  Graham took a 5 hour nap.

4th night: More of the same.  We removed the rocking chair for good (sigh… wipe tear).  Violet actually took a nap.

5th night: Tried to put them to bed an hour earlier.  They still stayed up until 9.  Woke up at 6:30.

6th night: They ripped the coat rack off the wall.  Slept 9 to 6:15.

7th night: The bickering turned into fighting.  Screaming.  Crying.  We threatened to separate them.  They didn’t seem to like that idea.

8th night: After a warning to stop the fighting, we pulled the plug.  Violet slept in the playroom.  They wailed like we were removing their limbs, then fell asleep in 5 minutes… and slept until 8 a.m.!

9th night: Moved their beds 3 feet apart.  Put bed rail on Graham’s.  Slept 9-6:30.

10th night: Excuses for coming out of the room:  1) pee 2) water 3) owie 4) Graham farted

11th night: fight fight fight fight… slumber party over.  Violet woke up at 4:30 a.m., crawled into bed with Graham, got uncomfortable, tried to leave, “Violet, stay with me a little longer.”  “Okay Graham” snuggled with him for a bit then asked him if it was okay to leave.  He let her.  No parental involvement needed.  Okay.  Cool.

12th night: Slept 9-6

13th night: Slept 9-6

14th night: asleep by 8:30!  Slept until 7! Is the two week mark really the turn-around point?  Could this be getting better?

15th night: NOT getting better.  pee, fight, change diaper, sing, fight, sleep 9-6:30

16th night: they pulled the sheets off Violet’s bed and knocked the mattress half off the box-spring in order to make a slide.  Slumber party OVER.

17th night: Begged me to let them sleep in separate rooms.  BEGGED ME.

Isn’t this supposed to be working by now?  Everyone is exhausted.  Exhausted!!  WHEN IS IT GOING TO START WORKING?

We may be very screwed.

The Reason: Trip to New York in July.  Trip to Oregon in August.  They’ll be sharing a room.  Graham’s too big for the portable crib.

What we’ve done so far: (will the end result be blissfully rested ready-to-travel children and parents?  Or screaming messes?  Stay tuned for the exciting ending…)

Step 1:  Weekend slumber parties.  Some failed.  Most were “successful” in that grouchy-tired-and-screamy-for-the-next-24-hours kind of way that happens when kids fall asleep at 9:30 and wake up at 6:00.

Step 2:  Got the big boy bed and brand-new fantastic star sheets (way to choose cool bedding little dude!)

Step 3:  Put the bed in his room for a week (tried not to worry it was only used for jumping)

Step 4:  Sent children to Granny’s house all day (thanks Granny! ).  Tore apart both kids rooms and the garage (100 degree heat).  Broke down crib (shed a few tears).  Reassembled Graham’s room into The Bedroom: and Violet’s room into The Playroom:

Step 5:  Went out for ice cream.  Thought about all the ways in which this scheme could fail spectacularly.

Step 6:  Welcomed kids home.  Graham was wailing, having been woken from his car-nap.  He wandered into his room, flipped out at the change, screamed and hid in the my closet, shrieking, for 30 minutes.  (a good snuggle while watching a “Goodnight Gorilla” then dinner and he was okay).  Violet was thrilled about the new set-up.

Step 7:  Tucked them in.  Held our breath.  The screaming stopped quickly and the bouncing on the bed began.

Step 8:  Changed diaper.  Repeated Step 7.

Step 9:  Violet ran out to pee twice and asked for water once.  Graham stayed in bed.  (Whaaaa???)

Step 10:  Now we’re listening to them in the monitor.  They’re laughing, discussing sleep and how mean we are that we’re not giving them any more water…. It’s all quiet now… will it last…?

To Be Continued….

So the other day I was standing around outside of Violet’s classroom with a few other moms and one of the teachers, waiting for the kids to come back from the dance room.  The conversation turned to lunchtime.  “How did little Sally eat?” asked a mom.

“Oh, she did great!” gushed the teacher.  “She eats whatever we put in front of her.”

Sally’s mom beamed as a few other mothers ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

“Wow,” I said, “You are so lucky.”

“Oh no,” shrugged the mom.  “We’ve just always given her what we eat.  No excuses.  She doesn’t have a choice so she has just always eaten well.”

Her smug smirk disappeared as soon as I grabbed her collar and leaned in menacingly.  Gritting my teeth I said, “You have NO idea what you’re talking about you idiotic know-it-all.  My children have no choice.  We give them what we eat.  They have been served delicious healthy food every goddamn day of their lives.  They still refuse to eat most of it.”  My voice started to rise and I was now gripping her collar with both hands.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other mothers nodding to themselves.  “I have tried every trick in the #&*$%ing book and they would rather go to bed hungry than eat something they don’t like!  Then they wake up in the middle of the night screaming and hungry and none of us sleep and we’re all pissed and crazed and want to beat people like you with a giant eggplant!!  The only reason your kid eats is because you are lucky.  Don’t try to convince us it has anything to do with you… you ignorant prattling egotist!!”  The mothers were smiling now and a few were cheering.  I released her and she backed away, mumbling apologies.

At least, that’s what I thought about doing in the split second before I nodded again, smiled vaguely and said, “Wow.  That’s so great for you.”

Fortunately, or awesome friends invited us to a camp-out at their amazing property on the San Marcos river.  Swimming, grilling, giant sandbox: it sounded perfect.  The kids were beyond excited.  Well, Violet was.  Graham didn’t really understand what was going on.  And since he turned 2, he does nothing but whine and scream all. day. long.  So it was with extreme trepidation that we embarked on this trip.  Especially after all the time, energy and money spent planning, packing, cooking and buying equipment.

Sure enough, the second we arrived Graham started:  “I wanna go home!  I wanna go home!” Whine Scream.  Fix lunch. Whine Scream.  Break up fights. Whine Scream.  Fix snack.  Whine Scream. Shove into swimsuit.  Whine scream.  Slather with sunscreen.  Whine Scream.  Fun!  Swimming!  Whine Scream.  Fill sippy cups.  Whine Scream.  “No Daddy!  I want Mommy!”  Whine Scream.  Change diaper.  Scream scream scream scream scream scream.  Zzzzzz.

I really really had to pee.  But I held it for over an hour because I thought for sure if he got a good nap he’d be tolerable the rest of the afternoon.  Ha.

After he woke up I ran, with him, to the port-a-potty and set him down.  Scream scream scream scream scream scream scream scream.  Dragged him back to camp, handed him a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.  Quiet.

Meanwhile Violet had been having the time of her life.  As she repeatedly told Rob, “This is the best day I EVER had!”  She learned how to doggy paddle with the life jacket by herself.  This is an amazing feat for the girl who always refused to do any more than splash around in a wading pool.  The kid spent hours in the water.  Rob had a blast with her, but got the brunt of my Graham-induced anxiety.  Clearly not my best wife moment.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent either in the water or listening to screaming.  At long last, after an extremely painful process, which I will not go into, we got the kids into their pajamas.  They were ready for their campfire and Smores.  This is what we’d all been waiting for.

Okay, so they didn’t eat the Smores, just the chocolate (and I don’t blame them.  Smores.  Yuck.)   Meanwhile our friends had been working for two hours trying to get their kids to sleep.    Another painful process.  I thought our strategy would be to let Graham and Violet stay up  and stare at the fire until they couldn’t keep their eyes open, then tuck them sleepily into their tent.  And it actually went smoothly.  They even let me leave the tent on a mission to get them cups of water to keep with them during the night.

Then the screaming started.  Louder and louder and louder until a little piece of my hot, tired, frustrated, anxious brain went plink! and snapped.  Next thing we knew the kids were strapped into their car seats and we were driving home at 10 p.m, leaving everything but our wallets behind.   I will not get into gory details.  But it was clearly not my best parenting moment. Or my best friend moment either.

Rob and Violet went back this morning to break down camp.  Graham and I hung out and went to the movies.  Now he’s napping.  I am trying to figure out how we could’ve handled the whole situation better.  Would they have gone to sleep if I had just stayed in the tent with them?  No, it would’ve freaked Graham out.  Separate tents?  No, Violet was scared of the cricket sounds.  Made them miss the evening camp fire so they could go to bed with the other kids?  Maybe… Graham needs to scream every night for a few minutes before he passes out, so they could’ve all screamed together.  More wine for the parents?  Hmm…

It doesn’t matter.  We are not going to try it again for a while.  A long while.  Still… it was worth a shot.

When Violet was born, to say I was overwhelmed was an understatement.  She was not an easy baby, and I don’t think I was a ready-made natural mommy.  I knew that people used cloth diapers back in the day; you know, ones with pins and rubber covers and whatnot.  But, in all of my reading during pregnancy, I never once heard anything about the new kind of cloth diapers; ones with snaps, velcro, pockets and whatnot.

A few months after Violet arrived I finally figured out that those cute diaper covers I saw on some baby butts were actually the diapers.  A mom in my mom’s group even started a store catering to cloth diapering.  But I didn’t jump on board.  The truth is, I was freaked out.  Every day seemed so hard, seemed such an exhausting learning experience, I couldn’t imagine voluntarily adding a new skill.  Plus it seemed awfully expensive.  I just ignored the possibility entirely.

Luckily, when Graham was a few months old, a friend of mine passed on her cloth diapers to us.  I know what you’re thinking, “Eeeww!  Used diapers!”  I thought so too, at first.  But that’s the thing about this new generation of diapers; they’re made so well that they last and last and very rarely get permanently stained.  This is good to know if you’re trying to justify the initial cost.  To mitigate the expense you can a) buy used b) buy new and sell them when you’re done c) realize that they’ll pay for themselves very quickly.

Graham was such an easy baby (and I had a bit more experience) that trying out something new with him was no problem.  Now I wish I had done it with Violet; it’s that simple.  Don’t be spooked by all the lingo. For anyone thinking about taking the plunge, this is all you really need to know:

• get about 20 diapers and you’ll wash a diaper load every 2-3 days
• cold rinse, hot wash, hang dry, no fabric softener or bleach
• gently shake the diaper over the toilet (don’t even worry about getting everything off) and store in the waterproof diaper bag until laundry time
• dealing with cloth diapers rates far down on the list of Gross Things Parents Must Endure

We still use disposables at night, and when we’re out of town.  But I’m just saying, if this lazy freaked out mom can do cloth diapers, anyone can.  Plus, they look cute hanging on the line.