The Torture Memos

We all torture ourselves, at least every now and then: regretting things we wish we'd done differently, agonizing over things we have no control over, watching "Rock of Love" (hey, that one's not me!)... Let me preface this post by saying that I am, overall, ridiculously happy with life in general, and that more cheerful posts are still to come. I have, however, had trouble resisting a few types of self-torture lately.

Sleep (or lack thereof)

Ellie had blessed me with several nights in a row where she slept at least 4 hours in her longest stretch, but as soon as I started to count on that, the Sleep Gods cackled ruthlessly, twisted their evil moustaches (because all evil beings have moustaches), and handed me 4-5 nights in a row where she was awake every 1-2 hours. Immediately, the 'Nam-like flashbacks of Keira's newborn days started, along with the same unfortunate side effect I experienced a couple of years ago: the Sleep Rules Obsession.

"What am I doing wrong?"
"What if I try letting her sleep in the swing? Would that be starting bad habits?"
"I should be putting her down Drowsy But Awake like the books say!"
and on and on and on...

And then I went to the very bad place and actually busted out one of the umpteen million books we own on getting your baby to sleep. You know, those ever-helpful resources that completely misrepresent how easy (or not) their particular method is ("If your baby starts to fuss or protests a little..." Okay, how about if she screams hysterically? And doesn't stop?) and hurl ominous threats like, "If you let your baby use a pacifier as a crutch now, he will never learn how to fall asleep without it." Really? I don't know any adults who require a binky to get to sleep, so I'm assuming the habit does, eventually, get broken...except when one is planning to attend a rave, I guess.

It was so, so easy to start letting myself obsess over all the "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" again, and stressing about whether this was the beginning of the end as far as my sleeping days went. Luckily, I've been able to (mostly) reign it in, and Ellie has gone back to sleeping pretty decently lately, so both types of torture--the sleep deprivation and the mental anguish about it--have been laid to rest. For now.

Mom-Guilt

Before I got pregnant with Ellie, I generally felt like a pretty good mom. I spent a lot of time with Keira, taught her all kinds of stuff, we laughed and played together, and the "Wonder Years" theme song played in the background constantly. (Okay, not that last one.) Toward the end of my pregnancy, and especially now, I feel a lot of times like my quality of parenting has been cut in half, as my number of kids has doubled.

Whatever I'm doing, I'm feeling guilty for neglecting something else. Washing the dishes? I should be playing with Keira. Playing with Keira? I should be walking the dog for the first time in days again. Playing with the dog? I should be holding Ellie--poor thing is just hanging out alone in her bouncy seat. Holding Ellie? I should be snuggling with Keira, putting away the mountain of laundry obscuring our bed, returning phone calls, exercising...etc. etc. etc. It feels like someone or something is being neglected every minute of the day, basically.

I'm trying to learn to cut myself a break, and to remember that things will get easier (and harder, and easier again) as different ages and phases pass...but when Bear comes home from work and has all kinds of energy to laugh and horse around with Keira, I can't help but feel a little jealous. I've become the Bad Cop who gets cranky and impatient with her, who says, "Just a minute" or "After I'm done feeding the baby" a million times a day, and who can't read her an entire story most days without being interrupted, and he gets to be the Fun Dad who does none of that stuff.

I'm thinking of getting Keira into some kind of preschool-type program, just for one or two half-days a week, so that she can hang out with other kids her age, do messy crafts, and be far, far away from "Dora" while I get a chance to cram in housework, Ellie time, or, hey, maybe a nap once in a while. Maybe that will help me find a little more balance, and give me a little more time to focus on Keira when she is at home.

30-Day Shred

Just in case mental self-torture wasn't enough, I also decided to start Jillian Michaels' "30-Day Shred" workout DVD this week. In case you don't know her, she's the trainer on "The Biggest Loser" who can be heard screaming things like, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING OFF THIS TREADMILL UNLESS YOU PUKE, FAINT, OR DIE, SO JUST SHUT UP AND KEEP RUNNING!!!!!" Fortunately, legal liability prevents her from being quite this demanding on the DVD, but I will say that no other human being in the world could turn 20 minutes of simple moves like jumping jacks and bicep curls into a muscle-wrenching, ultimate-soreness-inducing form of torture the way Jillian does. I think the fitness version of the "If a tree falls in the woods..." question is, "If I achieve hotness but am too sore to move, will I really be hot?" I'm two days in. Let's see how long I can last!

Okay, enough of the torture talk. Like I said, I'm generally happy and very lucky to have Bear and these two precious girls...so on that note:

Super-Happy Naked Bathtime Baby!


Super-Sad, About-to-Projectile-Spit-up Baby (little did I know as I snapped away...)


"Dad, I'm pretty sure this is not a hat."


And here's a tiny clip of Kiwi doing her super-silly, elbows-askew run that cracks me (and her) up every time she does it:


So yeah...life is good!