Will Blog for Sleep

Sometimes I have a terrible day and pray when I greet Chase at daycare that 1) he is happy to see me 2) he decides not to throw a temper tantrum the rest of the evening (which is a tougher wish more and more) Very rarely are both goals met.  Number two is usually the culprit. Today I was worn down mentally and physically.  Feeling beat up.  All I wanted was to dwell on & pity myself. As I walked into school, I prayed my 1 & 2.  And today he knocked both out of the park.  When he saw me, he cracked a big smile, opened his arms wide and cried out "DADA!" Okay, obviously we need to work on that. Regardless, he was excited to see me (or Dad's stand-in anyway). I wanted to be alone to sulk, but Chase knew better.  We met a lovely new friend on the bus, watched some middle-school kids play basketball, and waved to numerous strangers as we jogged the last block home.  He minded all directions, ate his full meal, and went to bed like a d...

Does Chase's shirt make me look pregnant? With the announcement of Baby Two being due, I can guess the two main responses: (1)  Uh, come again? Yep.  I strongly touted "No Kids. Ever." early in marriage.  Then begrudgingly changed my tune to One and Done when pregnant with the birth of Chase.  So I understand the head scratching.  The new (and final) mantra is Two and We're Through. (2) Who cares. Beyond grandparents, not many get excited when hearing another baby is on the way.  You aren't excited to learn -- let alone remember -- another name. So while you may not care (and probably stopped reading long ago), it is surprising how much thought goes into deciding to have a second.  On one hand , there is the advantage of knowing what to expect.  On the other hand, there is the  dis advantage of knowing what to expect.  So we are preparing for our new roles as...

Let's be honest, parenting is hard. Stay at Home. Career. Unless you are a deadbeat, parenting is tough. Moms and dads who gush about every moment with their kids being "a blessing and joy" are experiencing a heavy case of selective memory.  This (popular) parenting outlook neglects to mention how gut-wretchingly hard it can be.  To be clear: I love my child fiercely and unconditionally.  But the intense love of my child does not equate to skipping through each day filled with only giggles and hugs.   There are moments or days I am completely defeated.  Many times I don't meet the mark of Perfect Parent.  Some Mother of the Year examples are below: My son has eaten cheese puffs for dinner. Pickles were the "vegetable." The Five Second Rule is typically extended an extra 10-15. Starting when I see it. Some days I am happier to see 7:00 pm (bedtime) than 7:00...

I know what you are thinking.  A Book Club?   Reading ?  Who has time to read a book these days, let alone commit to it monthly?  I understand and empathize with your concern(s).  When pregnant, I read very few books about children.  Attempts were made to prepare for the future baby, but each time I picked up a book on infants my eyes glazed over and my hands uncontrollably wandered back to Girl with a Dragon Tattoo . Ahh, those pregnancy days -- hours of luxurious free time; the ability to eat out, shop, and relax.  I didn’t realize how it would drastically change, so needless to say, there was a lot to learn (and read) when our son arrived.      As each stage flies by, the array of advice books is overwhelming.  I imagined once I "caught up" in the reading I delayed in the beginning I could relax, but instead am in constant prep-mode for the next phase.  I consider...

Disclaimer: this entry is  not  touting the city as superior to the suburbs or small towns.  Being from a small town and having many friends in the 'burbs, I have an appreciation and love for both.  I just think the city gets a bad rap, and while the city is not for everyone, it is the best option for us.      Not only do my husband and I have a child and live in the city, but we plan on staying. For some reason, when the above statement is shared, I am often met with a look of disbelief or horror. To many, the idea of having a child and living downtown is less than ideal. Most couples run to larger, greener pastures when the plus sign is achieved on their pregnancy test. Well-intentioned friends cite the joys of a backyard, less traffic congestion, and more space when asking whether I will move to the suburbs. For me, however, raising a tiny Chicagoan goes beyond a life of concrete, pollution, and a higher cost of livin...

Chase Alexander has officially survived one year of life!  Some said it couldn't be done...but that may have just been me.  Hi s highlight reel is below and photos are included for those interested (simply click each month):   Recipients of the 6 month update may want to skip down to 7 Months (it is highly repetitive): 0 - 1 Month: Lots of crying. Some sleeping.  Experienced the longest night of our lives: 6 solid hours of crying (night was dubbed: "Babyggedon").  Weight and Length placed him in the "heavy-weight" division.   2 Months: Chase began to quiet down and operate well as a photo prop, helping pass the days more quickly.  We were promised "coo'ing", but received "baby dragon" growls.   3 Months: Chase started daycare; Tracy started work.  Chase melded in quickly and easily, taking a quick liking to his teachers.  Tracy struggled working 8 hours in a row without naps. ...

I am not sure if a world record exists for the most hours logged at a playground, but we may be in the running.  And while the playground began merely to get our son out of the house (and apparently to build his tolerance for sunscreen application -- the less you move, the lower the chance of white stuff in the eye kiddo ), we had no idea of the learning opportunities awaiting us.  Below are some of the highlights: Share-ground The playground is mainly a lesson in sharing: sharing of time, space, and toys.  Currently our son is one of the youngest at the park, deeming him the "learning tool" for older children.  When parents see our son (Chase) ambling in, children are quickly instructed to be gentle and let the baby play.   Typically, the older child greets ours with a hug and head pat (his bald head just asks to be rubbed).  Little does the head patter realize how this act...