So much better, even running better

My mood has flipped this week. Last Monday, Gus threw up play dough, Rose drew on the furniture with crayon and Gus almost killed a small dog. The owner did not have a lead on her pooch so I firmly and maniacally told her to put one (f'ing) on. I spent the next two hours crying. Not good. I felt out of control and it scared me. But things are definitely looking up. I was asleep by 9.00pm every night last week. I also realised I wasn't taking my iron pill. After ticking all the symptoms for iron deficiency anaemia, I have started taking them again and energy has been returning. I don't know if it is the pill or my head, but I'm feeling better, happy, and stable.

I've signed up for a third of a craft fair table. The fair is April 14th and at this moment I have nothing to sell. I do, however, like the deadline and purpose. Seven weeks to get my craft on! Also, I booked a flight to England last night. It is my birthday present - I'm going in April so I can attend a friend's wedding. I'm so so so thrilled. I wanted to go so badly and thought it wasn't going to happen as I didn't have enough money or miles, and then last night all these new flights popped up for 60,000 miles (I had 66,000) YAYYYY. I'm taking Tom as I'm still breast feeding exclusively, but Mum and Howard will babysit while I go to the wedding overnight. I think that black dress is going to get another outing!

Tom's hands are the current Tom fascination. He sits in his brown bouncy chair staring fixedly at his hanging sqirrel and hedgehog. He expertly gets one hand to them. This morning he was showing off by grabbing squirrel with both and then moving his left hand over to hedgehog. One in each hand! The boy is learning. He had a look to say "Boo ya hedgy, I got you!"

Rose has the most charming little sayings all of a sudden. "Oh my", "mmmm, yes, mmm". Where on earth did she get "oh my". I'll take it considering the potty mouths Brent and I still have with two young ones.

refreshed and recharged

Last night, Tom woke once to feed. This morning, he rolled over front to back and back to front. This is progress. He's a fabulous three-month old person. He smiles at everyone. He can stay awake in the ergo. He tolerates his sister screaming "Tom Tom" in his face. He loves his baths. He has adorable round blue eyes and increasingly chunky limbs. He adores attention, cooing at mama coos. He actively reaches for toys. We have left the fourth trimester behind us, thank God.

I'm feeling much much much more positive about everything. Rereading my last post was a huge kick up the arse. Not depressing, more inspiring. I am doing a great job of managing two babies, a marriage, a dog. Of course some things could go better at times, but, Jesus, I'm doing it. I am also going ahead with my little money making schemes. I have posted my first "Rock the Reading Test" practice test on teacherspayteachers and it has had five views. Also, the knitting business is a go, slow go, but a go.

The Night Shadows

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature us constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other." (p. 11)

Page eleven and Dickens has nailed the major problem with humanity; a person can never completely understand another person. I don't think anyone has any real hope in understanding themselves, so understanding other people are impossible. I'm one month from turning thirty and my own personality, temperament, individuality is just starting to come into focus. I now recognize the following things about myself: I have a temper. I bottle things up and lose control. I'm unable to cope with public embarrassment or failure. I fail to finish things. I have little confidence in myself. I need praise. I flake out on things. This entire list is negative. OK, positive, I can work hard, I can multi-task, I'm a good mother.

This is depressing, but therapeutic. There's a better me in here. Reading this wants me to start grabbing life and take some risks. If I fail, I fail, it will be good for me.

I'm doing my craft table.

perspective please

I cried three times today. On my own, in the kitchen, with my back to the kids. Except during the lunchtime nap edition of "Jolly Barnyard", I did have to pause and control my breaking voice. Is this normal? Is it OK that I am regularly crying and feeling completely overwhelmed? Perspective please.

I had a baby thirteen weeks ago.
Baby has not slept through the night, not even close.
I have not slept through the night, not even close.
I am looking after baby and two year old on my own from 7.00am until 5.30pm every day.
I do not have any family here to beg to come and help.
I get everyone out of the house every day for morning activities and afternoon dog walks, rain or shine.
I'm exclusively breast feeding.
Dinner is ready every night before 6.00pm.
The hoover comes out at least once a week.
The dog gets fed.
I talk to friends most days.

I feel like I can't complain. Last time I tried to explain how trapped and sad I feel sometimes, I got, "Well, go back to work then." Way to make me feel better. I need to ask for help more. I need to reach out to people more. I'm turning myself into a pressure cooker that keeps exploding every ten days. We need a babysitter so we can get out and away from the kids. But, I think I need to be a little easier on myself. This is hard.

who needs sleep?

Me, I do, I do. But, I'm not getting it. Well, not entirely true. I'm probably getting five hours a night. I'm a sleeper, I love my sleep, I love at least nine hours of uninterrupted sleep. I know I will have them again, but I miss them so badly. I'm jealous of my two year old and her eleven hours nights of blissful slumber. I haven;t had a full night's sleep for over three months and my body feels like it is slowly disintegrating. The days feel like I'm wearing a resistance parachute that is not helping me lose the baby fat. But, this week, it feels even worse, like my normal has been reduced 20%. I'm 80% of myself. Sleep, please come back soon.

The cause of this is our little man. He sleeps beautifully until 1.00am or 2.00am and then is up every hour. Every hour, we know we are up shushing, rocking, repacifing, crying (me alongside the little man). Our nights have been cut in half. We are trying all kinds of sleep tactics. He is currently super swadddled (his arms anchored with a scarf and swaddle blanket one top). We are dropping the dream feed tonight. I'm sleeping with him, while Brent sleeps in the spare room. No wonder having children destroy marriages. This will obviously, not last forever. Perspective is good, but sleep would be even better.

"Come sleep with me"

R. is blossoming from a introverted, observant toddler into a gregarious, funny, willful toddler. At 8.00pm tonight we stopped our movie "Beginners" because of this:
"Mummmy, mmmmuuunmmy, mummmyy"

Up the stairs I go.

"Mummy, get in bed"
"You want me to lie with you"
"Yes, get in bed"
I lie on top of her bed.
"No, under the blanket"
"I'm not going to get under the blanket, I'll lie here and we can read a book"
"OK"

I love that I can have a conversation with my little girl, a conversation that she has initiated, a conversation in which she is rying to manipulate me slightly.

T. meanwhile, is still not quite understanding the concept of sustained sleep. Last night he was up every hour. It can only get better.

4.37 on a Wednesday

Adele in my ears, mocha on my lips and some space around me. An afternoon with just me. I'm perched on a backless stool in a local coffeeshop. A stool that demands good posture. Too loud shop music interrupts my mellow choice of music, my labour playlist no less. Outside the window commuters are starting to trickle home, crisscrossing the complex junction in an ugly mechanical dance. People bundled in knitted hats bow their heads in brutal blasts of winter wind. Two men stand in the road peering westward for the next trolley.
A church tower watches over it all, the setting sun casting yellow sunshine onto its upper tiers. Naked tree branches reach over the road, stark like frail pointing fingers, accusing. Plate clang in the kitchen and the staff talk about shifts. Half eaten cakes line the shelf of a bright fridge, looking drab after hours on show. A crammed notice board screams with the goings on of a neighborhood, "Share yoga love with someone you love!" "Philly Youth Radio Got something to say? Want to be heard? Celebrate Charles Dickens on his 200th birthday" (I may actually do that one).
M thoughts jump from home (Is being home with the kids right for me? Do I have the patience? When will I get a full night's sleep again) to work (I need to earn money, how? when?) Just a few hours away is amazing for perspective. Last night I went to bed at 10.00 after a drink with Ellen, I was woken at 11.40, 2.00, 4.00, 5.00 and we got up at 7.00.

A Saturday at Home

A jetlag fuelled 6.00am wake up by both kids starting the day. Feeling amazingly energized after a night of only three feeds and numerous shushings, I began a pliates class courtesy of Netflix. The 36 minute video lasted about an hour as T. needed rocking, cooing and pacifying, while R. insisted on lying on my legs during the "pilates leg circle" exercises. I did, however, thoroughly enjoy the sweat inducing video and learned that I am unable to complete one push up, my shoulders feel like they will implode.
Our day turned into "operation declutter". A day of cleaning with kids, meaning not a lot gets done, but the bath has been scrubbed and some laundry has made it to the washing machine. Regardless of the lack of productivity, a day at home with the family cannot be beaten. Rose runs around with her constant wants, "Mummy, I want peanut butter, Mummy I want up, Mummy I want to hold baby Tom, Mummy I need water, Mummy I want to go outside, Mummy, I don;t want to go on the GUs walk." How can you not love that! Tom is an absolute delight. He happily stare at his homemade mobile, while we bustle about around him. He smiles and coos when you talk to him. His fluffy hair seems to be red in the sunlight.
Now, at 6.45pm, both bairns are in bed and we have an evening of football, reading, knitting, beer ahead of us. How can you not love this day?

Back home (?) again

Granted I have just returned from a delightful three week visit and the painful parting is still a vivid memory, but I want to be in England again.. Rose and Tom are here and priorities have changed. Pre-babies life in a big American city was exciting, challenging. Now, I want my children to grow up with grandparents, great-grandparents. My true home is with my husband and my babies, but I'm becoming convinced if that home should be in Philadelphia.

Top eleven memories from Christmas 2011 (in no particular order)

1. Seeing Rose and Tom interact with family
2. Swimming with Rose at Parkside Pool
3. Visiting the Pike and Eel (an emotional journey down memory lane)
4. Playing Balderdash with Joyce ("buggery instead of surgery")
5. Tom peeing on numerous carpets, trousers, and scarves.
6. My afternoon and evening in London with Harriet.
7. Dinner with David and Emma - the first time my brother has paid for dinner
8. Celebrating Mum's fifty five birthday at Jamies with cheesecake afterwards.
9. The Christingle service at Girton Church on Christmas Eve
10. the new catchphrase "oooo a cup of tea"
11. trip to oxford with Joyce and Peter

all children need hugs

As Frederick Douglass noted, “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”

happy belated new year

aah, a new beginning. Thoughts turn to resolutions and I have many changes I want to make, however I'm always confused as to why january first has to be the day of resolutions and not, say, 12th June or October 6th or even better any day in Febuary as it is such a cruddy month (and valentines day is just pants). So, this year my resolutions are 100% selfish: firstly, complete two races (a 5k, early in the year and a 10k later in the year), secondly, draw something every day, and thirdly read Dickens.

Having a splendid, long trip to Cambridge. Currently seated on a sqidgy poof, toes warm in threadbare green socks and back warm against wahing drying on the radiator. Holby City drones on unwatched as Mum sits cross-legged knitting on a black leather sofa. Tom sleeps swaddled in his car seat, tiny shroaded feet poking out of the end. The pages of the Guardian rustle as Howard browses the daily articles. A mini-Magnum quickly disappearing as he reads. Brent enters "something's not quite right, a few too many trips to the bathroom."

Nesting

Why do we nest? (I absolutely love that this uncontrollable urge to clean and cosy is called nesting; it conjures up wonderful images of birds creating masterpieces in trees, wooden swaddles for their eggs.) The mother needs to provide a warm, comforting home for her new baby. I'm also convinced it helps get labor going. This urge could have happened a month ago and it would have been a lot easier; scrubbing floors at 39 weeks is not plain sailing. Nature is a smart lady. Today I have swept and mopped the playroom floor, done the laundry, swept and oiled both staircases, vacuumed the rugs, filled all soap dispensers, organized a baby kitchen cupboard for bottles, pumps, pacifiers, etc., cleaned the kitchen cabinets and scoured the sink. Also, showered, shaved, and tweezed myself. Oh, and went on two dog walks and drove to South Philly to pick up Mexican take away.
Does this mean labour is imminent? Quite possibly.

38 weeks and 2 days. This little man is staying where he is for the time being. I am feeling remarkably calm about the birth and the baby. I may be in denial. Months of breast feeding, pumping, juggling toddler, baby, dog, mother and husband are ahead of me. Mmm, still feeling calm and overwhelmingly content.

I can't help but love my life right now. Today, for example, we were home bound as yesterday Rose threw up her stomach contents at music class. There is nothing like having a bra full of half digested kiwi and curdled milk. Instead of going to story time, we tidied and rearranged "Nonnie's room", harvested and hung up lavender and sage, made shape cards, and walked in the beautiful October sunshine. Brent came home and we ate homemade squash soup, homemade coleslaw and grilled cheese sandwiches on homemade bread. I'm now knitting Brent's jumper while the baby excerisies his limbs. I'm living a dream.

Here is a photo of Rose moments after spontaneously getting out her mat and showing Brent her new shape cards. Yay montessori!

Montessori Reboot

I downloaded a Montessori at Home guide today and I am remotivated. I have been searching for this document for months - a simple step by step guide telling me exactly how to implement Montessori techniques into my home and activities to use. I spent nap time reading the intro pages and these were some quotes I picked out:

"A significant feature of Dr. Montessori’s materials is the way in which each one takes a specific skill or bit of knowledge from the world and isolates that information in an attractive, self-contained activity" p. 13

There is no reason to bombard children with singing and dancing stimulus. I know I hate to have too much going on.

"By age six or seven, the foundations of the brain’s nerve architecture have been formed. A young child that experiences a variety of learning experiences in a loving, stable, low-stress environment, develops a brain with more active nerve connections and improved brain architecture."

The years between birth and seven are critical to the person the child will become. The implies giving a child a stressful, loveless environment develops a brain with poor architecture. So so sad.

"A child with a great brain who does not believe in himself will not achieve his full potential. A child with an average brain who has great confidence in her ability to master new tasks has a much better chance of success. A well developed brain, partnered with a positive self image, is a dynamic combination that allows a child to unlock their true potential."

Self confidence is suggested to be more important than knowing how to read and write. I think this is a wonderful theory. My overwhelming desire for my children is to know themselves, like themselves, and be confident in themselves. Can I say this about myself? I'm not so sure. Can I, therefore, help my children feel this about themselves? We will see.

Young children do not acquire a positive self image because we pamper them, repeatedly tell them they are smart and great, or constantly ask them, “How does that make you feel?” What makes young children confident is mastering actual skills and learning useful information. This makes them feel competent and in control of their environment. When a young child has a series of successes with learning activities a positive self-image becomes integrated into their personality. Along with your unconditional love, this is probably the greatest lifetime gift you can give your child. p. 16

Amen.

Home learning should be a series of positive, fun experiences of exploration and discovery. The process is what is important, not finishing as soon as possible. Early learning activities should develop a love of learning in young children. Be patient, be positive, and encourage your child’s efforts.

This is something I have to work on. I need to let them lead and explore without interference from me. I'm definitely getting better with the patience part - toddler speed is slow, but when you consider what is happening in her brain when she is doing something as supposedly simple as pouring rice from one container to another, that is a great achievement for a day.

It is vital to remember that young children do not by nature share our sense of the need to do better than anyone else. They are each involved in their own process of development. That is what we should focus on.

Yes yes yes!


So today we made a rice tub together and she spent 20 minutes pouring rice from a container into a funnel. We need to work on the clean up, but I am filled with Montessori love again.

This week we are going to be sorting colours, tossing balls, sponging water, and naming shapes. I will post pictures of our prepared environment and our works as we develop them.

Sales

I have sold two Giver novel units on teacherpayteachers. I beleive I have made $12 but it feels good and is incredibly motivational. Maybe I should do more?? I have been working on a test prep powerpoint, but it is painful. My thought was it woud sell. But maybe I should work on stuff I actually enjoy doing. It's just a hell of a lot of work for two sales. I'm going to wait for five sales and then move on to another book. The current bestseller is the Hunger Games - maybe I should do novel units on new popular novels instead of the older classic YA texts. mmmm, but first I will have another baby and figure out if I have enough time and energy to eat and sleep.

acupuncture trial

Rose is having a week of melt-downs. Music class ended early with me getting a waterbottle slammed into my teeth, yesterday she spent a good five minutes crying on the front step because she didn;t want to walk up and today, at Please Touch, she lay on the floor screaming becaue she didn;t want an apple. I think the answer is more food. All these melt downs seem to happen mid-morning. She wakes up and has a bottle and then very little breakfast. By 10.00am she needs a substantial snack, which in the last week we haven;t been having. My plan is to get more breakfast in the little madame and hopefully we can avoid apples being flung across the floor of the Please Touch Museum.

I had my first taste of acupuncture today. The right side of my bottom is taking the brunt of the baby and has been painful for months now. In the last couple of weeks, I've had some stop and gather moments with pain shooting down my leg. I learned the acupuncture cost $15 and decided to give it a go. It was a very pleasant experience, once you get past the idea of twenty small needles sticking in your limbs, face and head. It is a communal approach to alternative medicine with everyone needled and reclining in chairs in the same room. The lights are low and the air conditioning buzzes. I was encouraged to stay as long as I wanted and make eye contact with a member of staff when I felt "done". A couple of the needles hurt as they went in, but the pain disappeared just as quickly. I was able to close my eyes and almost relax - I found it a little hard to completely give in due to the tiny needles and the two and a half hour nap I had taken two hours before. The woman next to me was snoring. Four hours later and I am pain free. We will see if that is still the case in the morning. Does it really work or is it all in my head?

One month to go

My memory has never been great; my memories of school are spotty and I regularly nod along as people reminisce about past events I was involved with but can;t really remember. As R. grows and this little man is about to make his appearance I am resolved to prop up my crummy memory with writing and photos. I'm definitely a visual learner, maybe I'm a visual rememberer as well.

Today's reminisce: I've been slacking on changing the Montessori works in the playroom so rallyed myself (after an hour nap) to create some more. The web has exploded with examples since the beginning of school and I really don't have to be creative, I just have to copy. I spent thirty minutes creating four new "works": a pouring activity with dried beans, a spooning activity with pompoms, a slotting activity with straws and an old yogurt pot and an open/close activity with various bags. R. explored the pompoms and the beans. I repeatedly reinforced the mat and keeping everything in one place, I feel like I will be doing this for a while. So all was good, and then B. came home. I'm making dinner and he complained about having pasta again, then we had the following conversation
"Are these from the packet of beans I bought this weekend?" (shouted from the playroom to the kitchen
"Yes, I used two tablespoons. Why, do you need me to go and buy you more?"
"Yes I do"
DICK. What a dick thing to say. Here are my problems with this dick thing to say. 1. I have used some beans that would have sat in the cupboard for months before he got around to making anything. 2. They are dried beans. 3. If something has happened during the day, there is no reason to snap at me about beans. Urgh. Maybe it's time for some alone time.

The end of teaching: A gratitude journal

An hour ago I taught my final summer school class. I have had a great four weeks teaching 30 7th graders and now I'm all done. Ahead is a couple of years of being a Mum with Rose and our little guy, not being in a classroom. I don't know whether I will ever be in a classroom again. I'm at the end of a five year adventure and amazingly I feel sad.

Teaching gratitude
1. Not quitting in the first year. Looking back, I was in an insane position. I knew nothing about teaching, middle school students, kids in Philadelphia and I was in front of three classes of over 40 students. I remember my academy lead coming in my room in October and yelling "You've got to stop that hollering!". But, in March, she came back, sat down and said "You have turned it around, you have done a 180."
2. Lasting five years. There have been so many evenings and weekends where I have trawled job advertisements for anything other than teaching. I have cried while planning and woken up in panics night after night after night. I lost almost 15 pounds in my first year. The job is all consuming, and I'm very proud of myself for doing it.
3. Making the decision to leave. There are things about it I hate, but there are some things I like and I think I am good at. But, at this point in my life I am going to focus on my kids. I am going to be a Mum who can go to the playgroups, help at nursery school, read to them every day, make Montessori toys. I'm going to be a Mum for my kids. When they are at school, then I can decide whether to go back.

Teaching, so long for now. I may see you again.

Gratitude Journal #13

An hour ago I taught my final summer school class. I have had a great four weeks teaching 30 7th graders and now I'm all done. Ahead is a couple of years of being a Mum with Rose and our little guy, not being in a classroom. I don't know whether I will ever be in a classroom again. I'm at the end of a five year adventure and amazingly I feel sad.

Teaching gratitude
1. Not quitting in the first year. Looking back, I was in an insane position. I knew nothing about teaching, middle school students, kids in Philadelphia and I was in front of three classes of over 40 students. I remember my academy lead coming in my room in October and yelling "You've got to stop that hollering!". But, in March, she came back, sat down and said "You have turned it around, you have done a 180."
2. Lasting five years. There have been so many evenings and weekends where I have trawled job advertisements for anything other than teaching. I have cried while planning and woken up in panics night after night after night. I lost almost 15 pounds in my first year. The job is all consuming, and I'm very proud of myself for doing it.
3. Making the decision to leave. There are things about it I hate, but there are some things I like and I think I am good at. But, at this point in my life I am going to focus on my kids. I am going to be a Mum who can go to the playgroups, help at nursery school, read to them every day, make Montessori toys. I'm going to be a Mum for my kids. When they are at school, then I can decide whether to go back.

Teaching, so long for now. I may see you again.

Gratitude Journal 13

1. watching my little girl become more and more independent. I'm very gradually becoming surplus to requirements.
2. ice cold water
3. putting my knitting projects on facebook. I had put it off for days with worries about seeming very nerdy, but I'm enjoying creating these projects and I want to show them off!

I'm sitting in the playroom floor. Next to me, Rose has been threading wooden beads onto a shoestring for fifteen engrossed minutes. It is an absolute pleasure to watch her. I have been worried about her being too clinging, needing me every second of the day. I'm seeing her discover her own interests and curiosities. And, it seems like I may actually be able to do something else while she is playing. I'm writing this, and she is playing around me. I feel a mixture of joy at her growing maturity and relief about my own growing personal space.