It's pretty hard to believe that it has already been a month since I brought another human being into this world. She is such an amazing little girl. This picture was not taken today, it was actually taken on the 17th of February. But seeing as I'm in bed and not near my camera, a more recent photo just isn't going to make an appearance tonight. Nonetheless, it's an adorable picture. She loves to sleep on her belly, and will put her hands under her chin as the picture shows. Emily is already in three month clothing and has been for a week now. Isn't that something? She can follow movement of objects and faces with her eyes now and I swear the little smiles I've been seeing are real smiles and not just reflexes from gas. Though the heads-up was nice. She is quite the spitter. I've gotten used to having multiple receiving cloths handy. While mom was holding her tonight she spit up big time all down mom's front as she was handing Emily to me. Mom said, "Oh great, she spit up and it's running down between my boobs." I told her that happens to me on a daily basis. Good thing my nursing tank has a built-in shelf bra, right?
After a number of weeks of tripping over toys, dvd cases, empty tupperware containers, clothes (both dirty and clean, who can tell the difference when there is a two year old helping with laundry?), and other pleasantries, I decided I was going to make time to clean my room. Emily obliged and zonked out the bed while Elijah played the drums with a cylindrical pair of soft blocks while rocking out to Rammstein. When it came time to vacuum Elijah was most helpful in picking up every little piece of smashed Goldfish cracker and putting it in front of the vacuum cleaner saying, "Here, Mama. More?" He's the best helper, ever. Of course then he wanted to help vacuum and is just tall enough to where he can grab hold of the thing to push while I assist. He even grabbed ahold of the cord. So cute. 45 minute cat nap aside, we had a pleasant day. I know I contributed to this by reminding myself not to argue with a two year old, to parent with love, and to make sure that Elijah's needs are being met as well as mine. I decided to make the whole "potty strike" easier on myself and just stick Elijah back in the disposables I already owned. I'm not exactly proud of this but I was just done with cleaning toddler poop out of a cloth diaper. Not. Interested. If I can avoid belting out my frustrations in regards to a situation as simple as poop, I'm all for it.
Elijah decided he was going to sleep with grandma again. It was nice having him sleep with me last night; it's been so long since we followed through with a routine that ended with us (being me and Elijah) in the same bed at night. The past months have involved at least an hour of him bouncing from my bed to grandma's bed before staying put for the night. I don't approve of this, but I know that living here is difficult for him and nothing is staying consistent enough to resemble anything like a routine. I know he likes routine. He is like me when it comes to that; it's a control thing. It makes sense to me that he needs to satisfy his need for control in the absence of a consistent night time routine by deciding on his own who he will sleep with....even if it does take an hour. Or two. This is another terrific example of something I would argue with Elijah over. I had to stop and ask myself, "What would it look like not to participate in this behavior?" The answer was simple, stop contributing. I wasn't ignoring him, but I did stop asking him where he was going to sleep. It's time for bed, so we lay down. I don't discuss it or get angry. I ask him where he is going when he starts to leave and he tells me he is going to sleep with Grandma. We say goodnight and he goes to Grandma's room. And ya know, the running back and forth has minimized significantly. When I would demand that he stay with me, or that it's time to be done with the games, it was contributing attention to the game and giving Elijah something to respond to.
I miss the days of a night time routine. It's something that I respond well to, actually. Prior to Josh's deployment and moving in with my mom, Elijah was in bed by 8:00pm every single night. Living in a house where people are coming home between the hours of 5:30 and 7:30 at night makes getting to bed at a decent hour more of a challenge. I know it's not impossible, but I suppose I'd just rather wait until my mom is home for the night so I can get an extra set of hands to make it possible for me to catch my breath from running all day. And while my mom has a beautiful home, it's not ideal for small children and is fully equip with hardwood floors (great for slipping and knocking in beautiful, hard earned teeth, which happened to Elijah Christmas Eve), and a terrifying staircase that boasts about 15 hardwood steps straight up. Not to mention over ~3300 sq ft. of space. Not so easy to move about with a one month old and a bouncy toddler.
In the time it's taken me to finish this post, I have fed, changed, burped, swaddled, binkied, and rocked Emily. She is in and out of sleep and now on her belly lifting her head and looking back, rocking like she might roll over. Oh-no she di-n't. She better not, anyway. Rolling over at one month would be astounding. And something else, if she wants the pacifier so bad, why must she keep spitting the thing out? It lands in some crazy places. She'll be kicking and waving her arms frantically, crying out irritatedly because the pacifier is gone and some how it'll be above her head, or nearly six inches away from her. Maybe that's why she's attempting to roll over so early.
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