Back to work reality

This is my non-fiction post for the prompt we'd like you to write a scene that includes a happy ending. So far being back to work has been exhausting and emotional. I know that once we all adjust, we'll likely experience more happy times. I didn't include a happy ending because, well, so far it's been exhausting and emotional...

“How’s he been?” I whispered to Miss Kylie.

“You know what? For his first day, he did great. Like we told you on the phone, when you called again this afternoon, he had lots of moments of realization of where he was, then started crying. But that’s to be expected.”

“Mmhmm. What about food? Did he eat?”

I fired off one question after another, wanting to hear that something went right. It was Wednesday, the third day in my first week of being back to work. Nothing was going as I’d hoped.

“He ate some bread, a little yogurt, a few grapes. But you probably went through this when you went back after Deaglan right? It’ll just take a few days for him to adjust. And, for you to adjust.” She tilted her head, looking at me with sympathy. I blinked back my tears. I walked out to the deck where Miss Sandy and Miss Debbie were watching three of the babies play in the sun on the enclosed space.

“Naveen, look who it is! Is that Mummy?” Miss Sandy chirped. She was Deaglan’s favourite when he was in the Baby Room two and a half years ago. I picked up my tiny boy, who collapsed into my arms, crying and grabbing my face. Where have you been? he demanded with his miniature fists.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my sweetheart,” I whispered into the warmth of his sweet soft neck.

On Monday morning he woke up with a fever, watery eyes and clogged sinuses. Shaune took a sick day from work so I wouldn’t have to miss my first day back. On Tuesday, Gramma and Grampa drove the hour to London to watch him so I wouldn’t have to miss my second day. Wednesday was his first full day at Daycare.

And each morning, Deaglan had to be peeled off of me, wailing, “Mama, don’t go, mama don’t go.” I pressed my palm against his cheek, reminding him of the Kissing Hand, the story about Chester Raccoon who didn’t want to go to school either. Chester’s mother tells him about the kissing hand, a kiss on his palm from his mother he could access anytime he felt lonely. I promised that I would come back at the end of the day, pick him up and we’d sit on the front step at home and eat fudgesicles.

This morning I got into the van after dropping the boys off and drove the three minutes to my parking space, wondering how I would ever get used to being away from them for eight hours each day. I thought long and hard about those mothers in primitive cultures who kept their babies on their bodies in packs for the first year, nursed them right into and through toddlerhood. A pain shot through me, remembering Naveen’s incredulous crying when he realized that I was leaving him there that first morning.

And as I stepped out of the van into the small puddle I’d parked beside, the buckle on my black sandal broke off and fell into the muddy water. I fished around, found it and climbed back into the vehicle to slip into the heels I was saving for the soft carpet of my workspace. When I stepped back outside, I lost my balance for a second and dropped my envelope full of snapshots of the kids into the same puddle.

I don’t know what I was expecting this first week back to work.

Confessions of a breastfeeder - the sequel

I’ve stopped offering my breast to Naveen during the day; limited it to early morns and evenings. My baby will be one at the end of this month, heralding the close of this maternity leave.

A younger, childless friend of mine said the thought of breastfeeding a baby gave her the heebie jeebies. I got where she was coming from. It’s not something you can appreciate by imagining. It definitely falls under the understood by doing category. And even then, it’s certainly not the same for everyone. I tried to express my experience of it to her. But my words fell short. I had adverbs aplenty but was inept at stringing the thoughts together articulately enough to explain just what a wonder nursing has been for me.

Not everyone has been so lucky. I’ve known a handful of women who’ve found it difficult, painful, and even unnatural. And many who couldn’t produce enough to sustain their babies. As with so many facets of motherhood, we all experience it in unique ways and you won’t hear me preaching.

But oh indulge me. Let me tell you how it’s been over here. Let me gush. Let me get downright sentimental.

There’s nothing like the intimacy of it. I have loved a man. I have loved a dog. But loving a child has undone me. And nourishing that tiny body via my own? Well it has unravelled my carefully constructed ego. Forced me to see outside of myself. I understood again what a miracle life is, what a purpose mothering could be.

Also, it has been convenient and free.

And that it could very well be why Deaglan and Naveen took so long to sleep through the night didn’t faze me one bit. The fact that La Senza* sent me on my way empty handed did not discourage me either. I knew I’d lose the bulk once I stopped nursing. I knew I could hold off having that second or third glass of wine till the kids were eating all solids.

It doesn’t make me Mother of the Year; I’m not waiting for a pat on the back. I’m waxing nostalgic. I’m looking into my future and peeking over my shoulder. I’m inhaling the baby scent of it all because I know it will be gone in an instant. And I’m wondering if I will remember the best parts. Not the exhaustion. Not the desperate need for five minutes to myself.

But the soft intimacy with a tiny being.

The knowing of each other on a heavenly scale.

The warm sound of suckling in the dark.

The ecstasy.

*La Senza told me I'd need to go to a specialty bra shop to find something in my size.


I'm pouring my heart out with Shell.

End of maternity leave - reflections

We passed two young girls this afternoon, as I pulled the boys in the wagon.

"Your baby dropped something!" Offered the younger one. I looked back at the path we'd travelled and saw the orange bubble-making wand I'd handed Naveen to distract him twenty minutes earlier.

I don't know how long it will last but these two sit really nicely while I pull them around the neighbourhood. And now I've jinxed it.


"Thanks!" I said, picking it up. Then shaking my head I laughed while shrugging my shoulders and exclaimed "Babies!"

"They're adorable but they can be pains in the butt." agreed the older girl, who looked to be the wise old age of ten.

"Isn't that the truth," I shot back and took up the wagon's handle again.

We exchanged the goopy mixture of mud and dried leaves that was in the sandbox for some clean stuff today. Also, Naveen's hat is Rocawear as in Jay-Z. We like to keep things gangsta around here.


"Mommy, can I have a popsicle?" asked Deaglan as we began to move.

"Yup, when we get back to our house." It didn't end there but I won't bore you with the five minute preschooler-to-Mom chat that had me answering questions such as Are we back home yet? and Why can't I have a popsicle right now? and After I have a popsicle will it be night time? and Why is that dog poop on the sidewalk?

Lately Deaglan's nurturing side is in glorious plain sight. He regularly carries around a doll or stuffed animal and tends to it the way I do to Naveen.


And when we did finally get back to the house, I handed Deaglan a purple popsicle as promised and set Naveen on the grass to play. After fishing at least a quarter cup of sand out of his mouth, I took the camera out and shot these pictures.

It won't be long now. These free and easy Monday afternoons with my boys will be a thing of the past.

Sadly, his nurturing side rarely extends to his brother. As soon as Naveen reached for the popsicle, Deaglan snatched it back.


In less than a month I'll be back to work. And I know I'll be wishing that my two pains in the butt were right beside me.

I'm joining in on the prompt Sand over at The Red Dress Club.

I wouldn't be a good stay-at-home mom

I don’t have what it takes to be a stay-at-home mom. Not a good one anyway. It took two maternity leaves and ten sleepless months to know this for sure. Thank God for the leave. A chance to bond with my kids, then hand them over to professionals lest they be stunted by over-exposure to Dora and chicken nuggets. I bow down to homeschooling mothers everywhere. Offer my compassionate condolences to my American friends who are forced to quit their jobs due to the stunning absence of a proper mat leave.

With Deaglan, my first, the thought of separation sickened me. At six months I began the countdown to the descent back to work. Desperate, I devised ways to stay home and still bring in an income. I offered to set up a hotdog stand on our lawn, grow our own food, stop shopping, and sew our clothes instead. But my husband’s thorough knowledge of my strengths and weaknesses didn’t sell him on any of these schemes.

 That first week I was forlorn. A part of me was missing. My breasts leaked through my business suit. I only caught fragments of what people said. I cried in a bathroom stall on the fourth floor. And my arms ached to hold my baby.

But into the second month, a new consciousness penetrated the one-way street of my thinking. I liked work. Needed work. Saw that I was a better mom with work. And felt gloriously liberated to be back in heels, relegating my comfy pants to weekends.

 And today, in the twilight of my final leave, two beautiful boys under my belt, my body badly in need of constructive undergarments, the dread of leaving both kids in somebody else’s care is balanced with the knowing that they’ll be okay. The daycare will ensure they get at least 90 minutes of outside play every day, teach my boys to cooperate, paint and dance. Trained educators will provide routine. A paid cook will prepare meals and snacks mandated by the Canada Food Guide.

And although I’ll ache from the separation, I’ll bear in mind the guilt I felt every time my three year old asked me if I was finished doing my “computer work” (blogging) so I could play. I’ll recall how often I looked out at the snow outside and felt too lazy to bundle them up to play outdoors. I’ll remember putting on the fourth episode of Thomas and Friends so I could catch up on emails. And I will realize that knowing I wouldn’t be a good stay-at-home mom, well knowing that makes me a pretty good mom.

I'm joining Shell today and pouring my heart out.

Please ignore my insane get-up in the first picture. Deaglan painted dollar store bird houses for his relatives this Easter. They were a big hit I think. Naveen was irritated the entire holiday weekend. Aversion to mythical bunnies who deliver chocolate? Nah, no son of mine could dislike chocolate. I was lucky to capture a good shot with Papa (my Dad). This was not the case with Grampa (Shaune's Dad) who happens to be wearing Shaune's new hat to match those of the boys'.

My worries and my mantra

The only way I feel comfortable enough to have a shower when it's just me and the kids is to put the baby in the crib where he can't really hurt himself and crank up some tunes. Anne Murray's There's a hippo in my tub was a favourite in our house growing up and I've taught both kids to love it. Naveen will quite literally stop whatever he's doing as soon as I press play and Deaglan knows almost every word by heart.

Lately the three year old wants to get in the crib with the baby. After a few mishaps (he pulled all of the animals off the wall adjacent to the crib one time, and was jumping so hard the baby fell over another), I only allow it if I'm in the room to supervise and after I've given a stern lecture about what is and isn't acceptable crib behaviour.

These boys bring out a multitude of emotions in me on any given day. Often Deaglan refers to Naveen as his baby. He'll say Mommy, I love having a baby. I don't have to tell you how that makes me feel. But then this morning, after three days of watching me give Naveen all of my energy because he has a virus, Deaglan advised me to let the baby play outside by himself so a bad man could steal him!

Almost daily I wonder how families with more kids than we have, do it. I shake my head in awe when I think about the stay-at-home parents for whom this is a permanent job.  I will be heading back to work in June and with that in mind I try to soak it in most of the time, look forward to the break being at work will give me some of the time, and struggle to do my very best all of the time.

And that looks different each day.

I registered Deaglan for junior kindergarten. He'll be going in September. I try to keep my mind on today because thinking about all of the changes to come can make me feel like I'm drowning. He's still in diapers to some extent (he won't poop in the potty - we've offered chocolate, money, even a trip to Hawaii), still uses a soother for naps and bedtimes. He eats non-stop between the time he gets up and the time he goes to bed - how will I ever pack enough food into a lunch box? And don't even get me started on the fear I feel thinking about weaning the baby from my breast long enough to  leave him at the daycare that first time.

I know this is all normal. I don't miss my before-kids days. I'd rather be sitting here looking at these beautiful boys, worrying about their futures. I would rather feel like I'm going to pull my hair out because Deaglan just crumbled the yoke of his hard boiled egg all over the carpet. I'd rather be so tired that when Deaglan asks me to play, I suggest a game called "bedtime" where mommy has to lay on the floor and pretend she's asleep. I'd rather be nursing a child, or pulling a new crawler off the stairs for the hundredth time.

This is where I want to be.

And totally unrelated but equally exciting? I finally removed the last of the nailpolish from the pedicure I got for Shaune's cousin Carla's wedding in July!

This is my entry for Mama Kat's prompt - finding the balance, how do you manage?

Maternity leave

I highly recommend maternity leave.You get to forget about work for a year. Focus on your favourite faces.

Like this one. You get to have one more year with him before he goes to school like a big kid. And gets a best friend who's not you.

You get to keep a close eye on him when he's sick and not panic that you might miss a deadline for work because you're home taking care of him.

You get to teach him about sharing when his baby brother clearly doesn't know how to play Emergency with his police car.

You get to watch a bald head grow a crop of hair. A tiny body grow robust. Watch someone realize that fingers are for grabbing things. Voices can make wonderful noises.

You are free to kiss these little faces anytime you want. And you do. All the time.

You also have room in your brain to think about what needs to be done. You might not always do it. Especially if one of those little faces STILL isn't sleeping much.

But you might take a few minutes during a Sunday to browse through a trift store and see something ugly that has potential. Then during naptime you might spray paint them white and get something like this to put on an empty wall.

Of course if you thought that the kids might sleep longer, you would have taken a before picture so your readers could be really impressed with your DIY project.

 

You get to look at a piece of art you've had since second year university and see that it could be repurposed. A coat of chalkboard paint will allow you to create this:

Your husband might come home from work and look at it hanging in the front foyer and say without much awe, hey we lived in all those places. You get to shrug and think, at least he got it.

You get to thank God that you live somewhere that maternity leave lasts a full year. That it is understood how important your time with your babies is. For you and for them.  

     

An apology to my friends

Dear friends with no children or friends with children who are old-enough-so-that-you-don't- remember-this-stage,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry you decided to call me and had to deal with all that it has entailed lately:

• The threatening of time-outs


• The counting to three


• The non-stop talk of pee and poop


• The screaming


• The crying


• The thinking that I was talking to you when I was actually talking to Deaglan or Naveen


• The non-stop talking about Deaglan or Naveen


• That I act as if I am the first woman to ever have two children


• The repeating of stories I might have already told you - I can't keep it straight these days who I've told that Deaglan is doing really well on the potty and who I haven't - I'm sure it was riveting the first time I told you!


• That I forgot to ask you how you are doing


• That when you asked if you should let me go - I said No I'm good


• That I talk so fast and cut you off because I'm DESPERATE for some good adult conversation

Please understand and promise we'll still be friends. I should be back to my adult self in a few years. Also, if you want to save yourself the headache then email or text me. I gotta go, Naveen will wake up if I don't keep walking.

Sincerely,

Kim

Here's a picture I took of myself with the pc cam. Clearly I am not ashamed to show you what my stay-at-home mommy self looks like these days. I've been going between the Snuggli (gifted to me from Erin), the Moby (gifted to me from my wonderful team at work) and this back pack (gifted to us from Shaune's cousin) to get things done around here.

Food for my soul

Someone said to me this morning about having two kids under three, I don't know how you do it. The comment made me feel at once weirdly guilty, like I didn't deserve her sympathy since so many people I know have three and four and even five kids and at the same time thankful that someone noticed how hard this is at times.

Being on maternity leave for the second time has been a completely different experience so far. I'm different. Less neurotic, more relaxed, more humble and lighter in the soul somehow.

Having these kids has been the greatest joy I've experienced so far in my life. I've loved writing about it here because it has allowed me to reflect and record and then look back. The writing seems to increase my level of consciousness - like when I'm about to parent Deaglan in a certain way I ask myself if I would approve of my behaviour if I read about it later. Not that there have been times when I've employed questionable parenting techniques - not yet anyway.

This is a picture of my niece - my sister's youngest and fifth. Isn't she something?

Whining

I don't remember ever being this tired before. I'm trying to do all the recommended things - sleep while the baby sleeps, take naps when Shaune can care for both kids - but I'll tell ya, this is no picnic!

Deaglan is in daycare for three days a week until the end of July and Shaune's parents take him out one day a week. This has been a great help.

I know that this phase too shall pass and I'm trying to enjoy the aspects that I can. I find that if I try to make my day as normal as possible - showering and doing my hair, cleaning the house a bit, getting out if I can - my mental health remains fairly normal.

I do like being this busy, it removes the extraneous crap that can act as a filler to my day.

Trying to train a newborn to sleep during the night feels like the hardest task in the world. The nights are so long. I've forgotten what control of my body feels like. If I'm not nursing, or changing diapers, I'm trying to get cuddle time in with Deaglan who has regressed in several areas. He's getting up more during the night and taking a lot longer to fall back to sleep. He seems to want to snuggle with me all the time which I love except that I am feeding the baby most of this time. On the other hand, he is really acting up, taking out his frustrations on Shaune and especially me.

Shaune and I are both on edge most of the time since neither of us is getting much rest. I know from past experience that this first few months is a survival game. This poor baby was in utero for almost a year and was used to getting all of his needs met without asking. Now he must cry out for everything in a world where the other humans don't speak his language.

I'm also trying to ignore the extra 20 pounds that isn't budging. I gained a total of 50 and know that eventually I will get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. However, I have to remind myself that I need to let my body heal from the surgery before I can start exercising.

I know, I know, whine, whine, whine. I'm hoping that writing about it will get it out of my head.

Delicious

When I was on maternity leave I did a little cooking. It was the first time in my life I felt excited about domesticity. I cracked open a wonderful Indian cookbook my niece gifted to me and learned a few dishes. Some of them worked out and some didn’t.

I remember Shaune used to say that he loved walking through the door on those days when he could smell a curry bubbling on the stove.

When I went back to work, the experimentation stopped but I continued to make some of the more successful recipes. However, instead of a few times a week, I would try to make a big batch every few months and freeze 2-serving portions so we could pull these out on busy week nights.

I don’t know whether it’s because from the day I met Shaune he made it clear that cooking was his passion so that I stopped even trying or that I am not by nature very talented in the kitchen but sometimes I wish I could whip up a fragrant dal or mouthwatering chicken korma with ease.

I didn’t grow up with Indian food on the table, my family is Canadian and we stuck to the things you would expect. But oh how I crave the aromatic spicy dishes of this cuisine. Maybe I’ll brush up on my few skills in this on the next maternity leave.

I tried to find a picture in our archives of something delicious but since no curry dishes jumped out at me, I posted this delicious picture of Deaglan last summer at the beach.

Book worm

Deaglan loves his books. I hope it means he will love to read. I do. And I try to read to him a few times a day. Lately I've noticed him imitating me. He opens a book and then points to the words with his finger. That's how I read to him. He has a pretty good attention span when I'm reading to him. Reading has always been a great love of mine. Now that I'm back to work it's been harder to do. That was one of the many best parts of mat leave. I read all the time.

Thomas

Finally we've started our Thomas and Friends collection. This past summer during my mat leave we (Deaglan and I) often walked to Chapter's where there was a complete set-up in the children's area. I wanted to start buying pieces so that by the time Deaglan was old enough to enjoy it, we would have a good start to a Thomas and Friends train set. I've been paying a lot of lip-service to the idea and today Shaune said: Let's just go and buy a piece already! I was so excited that I just had to blog about it. It is a good purchase to start with. Compared to all the other pieces they had at Toys R Us, this one was less expensive and it came with two engines (Thomas and Percy) plus some tracks for only $20.00! I hope that Deaglan gets as excited about it someday as I am today. I also hope that he will one day be able to pass it on to his kids.