Today I woke up to the smell of vomit.

  Poor little Joss had thrown up at some time in the night ALL OVER her crib, and was curled up in the corner trying to get some sleep.  I don't know why she didn't wake up at night when it happened....or maybe she did and I slept through her crying?  No, I don't think my mom-radar would've allowed that.  She was most likely just trying to be considerate and let me sleep till morning.  How thoughtful.

   Even after two baths she still smelled.  Poor, poor babe.  Oh and she insists on reading material (multiple choices, even) when she is using the bathroom.  My oh my how they imitate what they see.

   I have no idea what it might be.  A flu bug?  Indigestion?  I was just beginning to think we were finally past all the colds, ear infection, and general nastiness of winter and then she came down with whatever it is she has.  So we had a relatively lazy day at home, and Randy watched them when he got home from work so I could get away to the gym for a little break. 

 It was a day for lounging around the house, not doing your hair, and setting very little goals so as the day didn't feel like a waste while tending to a sick little one.   With the exception of course, of a dance party in the living room.
   We tried to come up with some new activities to keep her entertained.  Thanks to some inspiration from a friend at church who's always doing sensory boxes (is that what they're called Erin?)  for her toddler, we poured beans in a tupperware and threw a few toys in a called it good.  Not sure if that's an official one or not, but it worked.

    And right now someone is probably reading this thinking, "Those are my daughters hair clips!"  And if so, let me know and I will get them back to you.  They were left at our house one time, I have no idea whose they are, and yes, I occasionally use them.


   In other news, this little is getting her TWO FRONT TEETH.  And boy howdy, sometimes she SHOWS it!  It makes for some very sad, pitiful moments around here.  Sorry for the boogies in the above pic, but I wanted you to be able to see the little chompers. 



Who needs a "Sophie the Giraffe teether" when you've got mama's toes?  

   I think it's safe to say that I enjoy toddlers more than babies.  Now, that doesn't mean that I appreciate Jocelyn more than Charlotte, or that I like her more, etc.  I just enjoy that phase of life more than the previous ones.  Take my friend  Nicole for example, who very recently gave birth to a darling baby boy and is currently in the throes of brand-new-mama-to-a-brand-new-bundle and I am. Not. Jealous.  Her latest post just brought the post-partum memories all flooding back, and I just have no desire to go back to that place any time soon.

   Some people get baby fever every time they see/hear/touch one, or crave an infant the moment their child is no longer one.....I just, don't.  I enjoy seeing them grow and change, and I am always excited about the next stage in life and what it might bring.  I try my hardest not to rush through the stages, because you only have the present, but truth be told, infancy is not my jam.

   For that very reason, I feel in some way like I have "cherished" these past 9 months a little bit less than I did the first time around.  That may sound bad, but it's just the truth.  And I think the reason is because a large part of it was just SURVIVAL.  2 under 2 felt like being hit over the head with a steamroller some days, and it all just took me a bit by surprise.  I mean, I knew it would be hard, but I didn't know it would be HARD.  I knew I would be tired, but I didn't know that some days I would practically transform into a personality my husband didn't recognize (and I didn't want to) because of the lack of sleep and no end in sight.

   I also recently read a post by this lovely mama about the end of nursing her son, Huck (probably one of the coolest little boy names ever, btw).  She gave a lovely tribute to nursing and how it was "her favorite part of motherhood".  She talks about how good she was at it, how she had enough milk to feed a small village, and how hard it was for her to quit, even though he was over 2.  2 1/2, I think?  I'd have to read it again, I forget his exact age.

And the whole time I was just thinking, wow, that is so not me.

   I mean, I kind of wish it was.  It all sounds sort of magical and dreamy to have this emotional connection to nursing so strong, that your body almost goes haywire while you're trying to wean.  And to have that huge, all-consuming part of motherhood of raising babies be your favorite part?  Awesome sauce.  But for me, it's just not.

   Don't get me wrong, I like nursing.  I am still nursing Charlotte, and plan to until she's a year old. I stopped at about 10 months with Jocelyn, but that was because at 9 months I was already pregnant, and my milk supply was going down.  I guess I do it because I know that the benefits for them mentally, physically and emotionally are HUGE, and as a bonus, it's FREE FOOD.  I know that it is giving them the best possible head-start to life that they could ever have.  I do it because I know that they need it, want it, and it is good for both of us, really.

   But I don't THRIVE on it.  I don't hate it, but I wouldn't ever call it my favorite part, or sob when I'm finished.  Rather, I'm sort of relieved when it's over, and I feel like I can have my body back to myself again.  Is that selfish of me?  I also get a little frustrated at the fact that breastfeeding means that it's ALL ON ME.  No one else (unless I pump or choose to give formula) can feed her.  And it causes multiple interruptions in your day, and sometimes happens at the most inconvenient times imaginable.  Like right before supper when company is coming and you have a million things to do?  Yeah, that's a classic one.  Or when you're getting ready to leave for a date and you want to quick feed her but you also have to shower and get ready and show the babysitter around and  entertain Jocelyn?  And we won't even start on all the times in public, in town, traveling, etc.....

    It's a lot of work.  And it takes a lot of sacrifice.  I am glad I do it.  But I'm also glad when it's done.  Just like I'm sort of relieved when they start to change from that newborn infant into a crawling teething baby, and then into a talking, walking toddler.  Growth is good.  Change is good.  Especially when it comes to babies.:)