Recently in River Category

I'm not sure if every child is sensitive to sugar, but mine is. We are not a household of frequent desserts or daily candy consumption. So when River gets sugared up-- he can practically blast off to the moon. 

I always have this parent paranoia that I'm not doing-it-right. That I'm not making enough effort for the holidays and special events. My childhood memories of Christmas and birthdays are so amazingly, awesome that I feel like I can live up to the shadow of my mother's enthusiasm that made these special days so very special. 

One of those things I just don't like about winter is the winter cold and the winter sick in general. I have to say that we're a pretty lucky family in that we have good health. I haven't been horribly sick since my junior year of college. River has not gone to the doctor for anything but a well check since we moved here in May of 2009... that is until today.

"Mommy, why is diarrhea wet?" River asks me as I am trying to convince him to put on his shoes and coat so we can leave preschool.

I miss being with only River. For almost three years were spent an incredible amount of time together. I never left him alone until he was a year and a half. I was never without him overnight until after Sage was born. It must be hard to share my attention and care with his sister. It's also hard on me and not in a way I anticipated. Sometimes I just plain miss him.

I've been trying to steal little moments this week to just be with him. Jason was home sick over the past two days. I took full advantage of a second pair of eyes. One day, after the baby had just nursed and was sleeping, I took River with me to the grocery store. I listened to him talking, asked him questions, teased him, and nibbled on his cheeks to make him laugh. I sniffed his curls, gave him sudden hard hugs, had him help me bag fruit and veggies, and ran the shopping cart down the aisle at his prompting.

It recharges us-- these little slivers of time before Sage is demanding I hold her in my arms or needs her diaper changed or wants to nurses again and I have to tell River, "You have to wait. You have to wait. You have to wait."

Today, while Sage slept, I remembered a pile of leaves under a pair of flaming maples. I took River outside and we played, briefly (so so briefly) before the baby woke and Jason called my phone to summon me back inside.

For another little sliver of time we were together, just the two of us. We piled leaves and ran through them and threw them and kicked them. We picked out leaves for everyone in the family and then ran back towards home chasing one another.

When he wakes up at night, frightened or lonely, he still so often calls out, "Mommy." He's still my baby. He's just my bigger baby now.

"It's Super Peanut Baby Sagey with her super spit up attack!" I fly Sage over my head, her lower lip and chubby cheeks dragged down by gravity. A spot of drool forms at the lowest point. 

One of the upsides of pregnancy is that it regulates my moods after the first trimester. I ride a hormonal high of good feelings. It seems like nothing can pop my bubble. I feel positive almost constantly. Now I'm not sure what is bothering me. It's either the baby blues, my new birth control I started, or seasonal depression. Here's what I do know, since I started my birth control I feel more emotional and anxious, but I am more lethargic and moody on cloudy days. There isn't much I can do if the cause is my birth control. If it is seasonal depression, I've begun sitting under my light therapy lamp every evening for thirty minutes. Doing so always perks me up from a fog of fatigue. 

I hit six weeks and everything started to fall into place. I'd been told it was the magic number. Six weeks for River to accept how his life has exploded into chaos after a new baby. Six weeks for me to stop feeling half asleep (though I still often feel half retarded from lack of sleep), to get into a routine, to adjust to hauling two kids in and out of the house here and there without feeling like crying in a heap. In summary, six weeks to feel somewhat sane again.

I no longer feel the need to hide in the house. I no longer have to struggle to get through the days. I know those days will still happen. They always do--with one child or two. But, I basically feel like myself again. Although, I'm still marveling at saying I am the mother of two, of talking about my children and saying "My son, River and my daughter, Sage.", of watching the big one climb the slide and barrel down head first while I hold a floppy baby against my chest in arms that still remember days upon days of holding her brother when he was this small. Like riding a bike, you never forget how to care for a baby. Mothering is natural, easy, familiar now. My body knows the way, even as my mind sometimes freezes over the fact that here I am.

My life--the mother of two children. The strangeness and awe doesn't dull with time.


Raising these kids is like a long television series. I look forward to the next episodes and get nostalgic over things that have passed and can't be lived again. Jason and I already talk about the sounds and phrases and messy words that have faded from River's speech. Already Sage changes and sheds her mannerisms as she grows. She doesn't purse her lips and pant when she wants to nurse anymore. She doesn't stick her legs straight out, tense, when she latches during a feeding. We're all learning to sleep through her night time grunting. Changes keep on coming.

We have moments, flashcard fast. Like nursing Sage in bed while I opened my birthday gifts. River taking the boots the "kids" bought for me and insisting on wearing them both and then dancing in bed. Moments.

Yes, I'm exhausted. Raising children is work, but these are happy days. As my memories fade and blur, I am left with a feeling of deep, satisfying, contentment.