Okay, so it’s not really that bad. But I thought I would warn you squeamish folks up front.
As of last night, I have officially completed one of the Milestones of Motherhood: the first trip to the Emergency Room for stitches. Surprisingly, we haven’t had to do this yet with Sawyer, but with Beckett being my more monkey-like and fearless one, he had to get it out of the way early.
We had some friends over for dinner last night, and while the lasagna was in the oven we went outside so my friend could take some family pictures of us. The boys looked adorable in their Easter outfits and the shoot went pretty well, considering we have two children who like to run in opposite directions like repelling magnets.
After the pictures, we came back to the house and were headed inside to have dinner. Sawyer and Beckett were, of course, running to see who could get through the front door first. Beckett’s pants were a little big and his shoes a little too clunky I guess, because he tripped on the front step and dove head-first into the edge of the bricks by the front door.
I was too far back to see the point of impact and thought he had just hit the front door or not hit anything. Was expecting a couple tears and then another mad dash into the house. But the look on DH’s face said otherwise and when he grabbed him up and spun around, I saw the blood a-gushing. Yep, onto his Easter outfit that he’d had on for all of 30 minutes (luckily Daddy actually accumulated most of the blood so I think I may be able to save the outfit).
I instantly flipped into Mommy Mode and ran into the house to grab a rag. Sat him up on the counter to survey the damage and instantly said, “Yep, that’ll need stitches.” I was so thankful that our friends were there, because we were able to leave Sawyer with them and take their van so that DH could ride beside Beckett and hold the rag on his head. He was such a doll baby and had stopped crying before we ever made it off our street, because I told him we were going to see a doctor to make it better.
We got to the ER and saw a triage nurse, and were thankfully able to get the bleeding stopped and a band-aid applied for the wait in the waiting room. I am knocking on all the wood available and hoping we don’t catch the stomach bug from the little girl who was puking next to us. *shudder*
Once we got back into the room to see the doctor, a nurse came in to check out the damage and apply some numbing medicine. Beckett was so sweet and sat still for everything. He even did fabulously through his tetanus shot, which we unfortunately had to get sooner than I was hoping (since we delay vaccinations, he hadn’t had it yet). He would wave to the nurse and say thanks every time she left the room. Total heartbreaker.
And a side note, I was amused by but did not appreciate the doctor who felt the need to come in and tell us that “tetanus is something you die from” and then leaving. Thank you, all-knowing ER doctor with stellar bedside manner. /sarcasm
Anyway. The nurse came back in then and applied some numbing medicine, which was really fabulous because it prevented him from having to get ANY shots of local anesthetic. I was so thankful for that. He had me cracking up because as soon as she applied it, he said “Ice cream!” because it felt cold.
We left that on for about half an hour and then the doctor came in to stitch him up. This was by far the worst part and I was loving her for being so quick about it. We had to wrap him up in a sheet like a burrito so he couldn’t thrash, and just being held down like that really terrified him. He cried for me the whole time and it broke my heart into a million pieces. BUT, he didn’t feel a single stitch go in, and that made it so much easier for me since I knew he was only crying because he didn’t want to be held down. It only took about five minutes and she had three stitches applied and we were done.
He is, of course, back to his ever rambunctious self this morning, giving me mini heart attacks every time he dives onto the couch head first. Kids and being resilient and all that – it really is true.
I’m not one to miss documenting this type of event, so I of course have pictures. Look away now if a few drops of blood and some stitches gross you out! I wasn’t TOO terrible of a mom because I at least waited until the major drama and gushing blood was over before busting out the camera.
Daddy and Beckett waiting at the ER. This was after we saw the triage nurse and we had gotten the bleeding stopped by then. We had to drive to the hospital with a rag pressed on his head.
Waiting for the nurse to come in and apply the numbing medicine.
Numbing medicine in place, kicking back and eating a Pop Tart.
All stitched up, bandaged, and waiting for our discharge papers.
Changing band-aids when we got home – as you can see he was happy as ever, hardly phased.
Wow. It’s been over a year since I cracked open the virtual pages of this thing. I just spent awhile reading over my tirades as a new mom of two and had a good chuckle. And then became terrified when I realized I’m doing that all over again, this time with three. Here’s to hoping that the little bebe I’m cooking this time decides to take after her oldest brother and be the most mellow kid on the planet. Yes, that would be nice.
Last night, I was looking at pictures of our kittens from when we first got them, and said aloud to DH, “I don’t remember them being that small!” That, of course, led me to pictures of the boys in their infancy and those days are all but a distant memory. Sawyer is now a very articulate and sensitive 3-and-a-half-year-old, and not nearly the terror he was at age two. Beckett will turn two soon, yet is still very much my little baby. Luckily, he’s past the constant night-waking and crying all day, THANK YOU GODS. How is it that I can barely remember what it was like back then?
I decided today that I would start writing here again, because I NEED to be able to remember these times. I don’t want to be looking at pictures a year from now and not know what my kids were like in them, how their laughs sounded, what antics they devised to drive me crazy yet make me giggle hysterically.
I need to remember what it was like to show Sawyer the first ultrasound picture of his new sibling at nine weeks gestation, and see his eyes light up with wonder when I told him it was a baby. “Oh, that is SO cool, Mommy!” Seriously priceless. He then declared to his father and me, “Mommy, you are having a girl baby. Daddy, you are having a Spiderman baby. And I want a boy baby.” I definitely cannot allow myself to forget moments like that.
I need to be able to envision in my mind how warm and wonderful it feels when Beckett crawls onto the couch with me and snuggles up right against my face to look in my eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just grins and giggles and plays with my hair. Such a mama’s boy he is, and I love it.
Sawyer is becoming more loving and affectionate as well, constantly asking, “Mommy, do you love me?” and demanding hugs and kisses throughout the day. I am so lucky to have these moments with my children and it would really be a shame to just let them slip away into the past, unrecorded.
I am one of those slacker moms who is the victim of the digital age, with very VERY few printed pictures of my children. The ones hanging on the walls are all I have. I take so many and am so far behind now that it would take hours upon hours and cost a fortune to have them all printed. I haven’t made tangible baby books either, which I feel awful about. It goes hand in hand with not writing hand-written letters to relatives or compiling photo albums of our family for my children.
I have to start somewhere, so getting our day to day life down in virtual format is as good a place as any. Some day I WILL have the time and money to get those pictures printed, and my kids will have books full of memories to look back upon. But for now, I’m happy just writing about our adventures here for safe keeping.
Did you know that oven doors have built-in locks? Ours does. And I know this. Now, that is. It would have been nice to know before I smelled burning plastic while pre-heating for some cookies. Sawyer wanted to give his plastic stethoscope a tan, apparently. It got more of an incineration though, and I found it dripping hot down through the racks and into the bottom of the oven. TASTY. And not harmful in the least when those fumes leach into your food! I guess I should have listened to my mom when she would preach about “Always LOOK inside before you turn on the oven!” Yes, Mother.
I must be doing something right though, because my two-year-old says please and thank you. “Mommy, I want a banana, please!” Which I’m happy to oblige, and feel all giddy because as soon as I hand it to him, he says, “Thanks, Mom!” (Oh and yes, he calls me just ‘Mom’ sometimes. Isn’t he too young for that?) AND, he throws the peel away on his own. He’s quite fascinated with the trash can, actually, which is nice for me because now I can easily convince him to throw anything away for me. Of course, now is when many toys will begin to go missing, as I’ve already rescued Diego’s maned wolf from the bottom of the bag twice.
Despite being incredibly curious and just way too smart for his own good, he really is a pretty easy kid. Which bring’s me to Fizzledink’s question of how we transitioned him out of the crib. And I feel kind of stupid saying this – but I honestly don’t know. Sawyer has always been such a good sleeper that it wasn’t much of a bump in the road at all for us. He started sleeping through the night, with no help at all from us, at around three months old. Since then, we’ve had a couple bouts of night waking but nothing that lasts more than a week.
So when the time came to think about breaking out the Big Boy Bed, I really wasn’t worried. I was probably a tad over-confident, but at that point in parenting I’d never really had any incident with him that had knocked me on my ass too hard (no worries though, Beckett fixed that for me!)
His crib is the type that turns into toddler bed so one day when I was eight or so months pregnant, we decided to just go for it. No careful planning or a course of action, just cold turkey. (Which really makes me think I’m probably not the best person to be giving advice on this subject, but well, I’m already halfway through the story.) We wanted him out of the crib before the baby got here so we wouldn’t have to worry about that on top of a newborn.
So that night, I had his bed all made up with comfy blankets and a big cushy pillow, and we took him in like normal and put him in it. Said goodnight, gave him kisses, and shut the door. Now, this part is this single most important thing we did: we put a gate on his door. I honestly don’t know how we would have remained sane if it weren’t for that gate. Him coming out of his room multiple times? Possibly wandering the house at night when we’re sleeping? No thank you. Not to mention that the bedrooms are upstairs and I’d had visions of him tumbling down them in the dark. So the gate was a safety precaution as well as peace of mind for me.
In hindsight though, I think it definitely helped to teach him that once we put him in his room and put the gate up, it means bed time. The gate is not there during the day so he can go in and out. The first night of the Big Boy Bed, he didn’t get out of bed a single time. He went right to sleep without a peep. Of course, that was the calm before the storm, because the next few nights were a relay race of running up the stairs and putting him back in bed because he’d stand at the gate and yell for us. It didn’t take long for him to catch on, though. Now, if he gets up, we just ignore him and 99% of the time, he gets back in bed and goes to sleep himself. Occasionally he’ll want something, like a drink or a hug or a story, and we always get him whatever he needs.
He was about 18 months old when we made the transition so he’s been sleeping in his bed successfully for close to ten months. Naps, however, are another story and he generally refuses them now (although he did used to take them just fine, even in the toddler bed). So I have no advice there. Except that sometimes, you may need to turn the bed to the wall so the kiddo can’t get out repeatedly (if you have a crib that has been transitioned, that is). We’ve had to do this a handful of times when he was extra defiant to show him that we mean business.
I have to add though that very rarely did he ever cry or act scared to be in the bed. We’ve never had to sit with him until he fell asleep or do anything else drastic. So, again, probably a sign that I’m not the best person to get advice from. But this was my experience and I hope that it helps somewhat. I think the key is consistency and probably the best thing you can do is to just keep trying, keep putting them back in the bed, and don’t give in. Of course, if you truly feel that your child isn’t ready yet, then by all means, don’t force it. Take a break and try again in a week or so.
And now that I feel like a The More You Know commercial, I’ll end with a video of Beckett from a few days ago. He can clap! *sniff*
As much as I talk about Beckett NOT wanting to sleep, it wouldn’t be fair not to mention how much Sawyer flat out adores it. Seriously. This is a kid who has been sleeping 12 hours straight through the night since he was about two months old, and who we have never had a problem with getting him to go to sleep. He loves his bed and when he was 18 months old or so, he would actually ask to take naps. He’d find his blanket (which he calls his ‘mimi’) and truck upstairs, then go right to sleep without a peep.
He has since dropped his nap most days unless I force him by turning his bed to the wall (it’s a crib turned toddler bed so there are still rails on three sides). But at night we never have a problem. DH usually does the bedtime honors and Sawyer is now old enough that he’ll tell me he loves me and give me kisses. It’s so fabulous.
Last night, he was being a pistol and throwing fits at the drop of a hat, about sending me off the deep end since Beckett was also being a beast by screeching and clawing and attempting to bite me. He refused all our suggestions for dinner and instead threw himself into a flailing heap of limbs on the floor, so DH took him up to his room to chill out. Ten minutes later, he was asleep at 6:30pm. Without dinner and his regular bedtime still an hour and a half away.
Now, once he’s asleep, you can not wake him, lest you’d like to take on the beast on a whole new level. He is not a happy kid when his sleep is interrupted. But I felt insanely guilty for putting him to bed without dinner, so DH and I devised a plan to bring him a meal in his room no matter what time he woke up. Quesadillas and pears, even if it was 4am.
We went to bed around midnight and he was still sleeping. It had gotten cold in the house, so I pulled a quilt from the closet and took it in to bundle him up. He sat up when he saw me, grinning from ear to ear. I covered him up with the quilt and asked him if he was going back to sleep.
“Yes, I go night night!”
“Okay, baby, I love you, night night.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
And when I was halfway to the door, I heard him mumble, “Thanks!”
Seriously, how can you not completely melt after something like that? You can’t not.
He also can eat yogurt with a spoon now, which he probably could have done a long time ago if I hadn’t been too scared of the mess to let him. He’s becoming very particular about which chair he sits in to eat (it must be the Big Boy Chair) as well as what he eats. He used to be a garbage disposal and would eat anything we put in front of him, which made it really easy to feed him a good diet full of fruit, veggies and protein. Lately, however, he turns his nose up at anything that isn’t pizza, PB&J, or smothered in cheese. Typical kid, I guess. Although he does still love most any fruit, so I’m thankful for that at least.
And Beckett. What can I say about him. He’s growing up faster than I remember it happening with Sawyer, yet it still seems to drag by, if that makes any sense. The sleep deprivation has me worn pretty thin, but I’ve given up on lamenting over it and have just decided to accept whatever sleep pattern he chooses. I don’t feel like there’s much I can do to change it until he weans anyway, so it’s pointless to get worked up over it. As I type I can hear him waking up for the third time since we put him down two hours ago. Le sigh.
He seems so much older to me than a week shy of eight months, what with almost eight teeth lighting up his once gummy smile and being fully mobile. He can crawl clear across the house in less than ten seconds and will pull up on anything of height. Cruising is just around the corner and I have a feeling he will walk before Sawyer did.
He still doesn’t care much for solids. Some days he’ll gobble it up at every meal but most days he refuses it (quite loudly) unless it’s super sweet fruit. He wants nothing to do with most veggies other than sweet potatoes and isn’t crazy about meat either. He’s great at self-feeding though so we may just jump right in to table food soon. Even on his good days with solids though, it still makes no difference on his sleep so I’m not in much of a hurry.
Most pictures I get of both of them these days are either of a backside or a chubby blonde blur. I couldn’t believe I actually caught all four of them looking at the camera in the above picture. Don’t be fooled, as that moment will likely never be captured on camera again. The other two are my friend’s boys that I was watching for her that day. They are ages four and two. And yes, my 2-year-old and 8-month-old are the same size as them, respectively. I grow giants.
These are more typical of my usual captures. I generally have to take 60 or so in order to get a couple good face shots, and on the day I took these, I didn’t get any. Hey, at least he has a cute butt.
