All posts tagged: #tearlesscrying

Canine Crisis…the NEXT Final Chapter: FROM POOP TO PEE

A few months ago I wrote about life feeling like an endless shit storm…literally. And by “literally”, I mean literally…my two (still-diapered) kids and my feculence-challenged dog. Now that my older son is diaper-free and the dog is on a schedule where I regularly express her bowels (gag), life feels much less shitty. Pun intended. Now it’s pissy. Madison’s acupuncturist (yes…her acupuncturist…everyone says it’s the best treatment for FCE…and by “everyone”, I don’t mean the Google) suggested we stop expressing her bladder, thereby stimulating her nerves to regain some control. Meaning: with patience and timing she pees intentionally about half the time. It also means she pees unintentionally half the time. Particularly when she’s excited and I haven’t timed it well, she’s standing one second and squatting the next. Only, because of her neurological issues, she can’t effectively squat, so she walks as she squats. Meaning: she leaves a trail of pee. And if she loses control in the apartment, she knows she’s doing wrong, panics and ends up peeing in lines (or circles) on …

Rainbows and Unicorns

Recently a dear friend told me she reads my blog (13th reader!) and likes it, but…“I could use a few more rainbows and unicorns.” She is sweet. I am not. Well, I can be. But I won’t sanitize my parenting life…because it is HARD, people. Given the choice, I would have another acting gig and make peace with giving 85% of my salary to childcare. (It ain’t for lack of trying. Any casting directors out there reading this?) Admittedly, then I’d complain about being away from my boys so much. Complaining is so satisfying. Aren’t playground conversations all about commiseration? It lets us know we’re not alone. Plus, rainbow and unicorn parenting blogs just annoy me. 1. They make me feel like I’m not creative/energetic/crafty enough, 2. I don’t believe them. I think I’ve made it clear I would take a bullet for both my kids, but being a stay-at-home-dad is not in my DNA. The fact is: my days don’t feel full of rainbows and unicorns. It actually feels like a frantic struggle to …

I was a (Sleep-Deprived) Mother

When Colton was 7 months old, his #tearlesscrying teamed up with three wake-ups at night, making me unrecognizable to myself. At the time, my partner was busy preparing symphonic concerts and was in desperate need of rest. Because I didn’t need to think beyond mere “survival” and hitting my sounds as a tap-dancing Santa Claus in Annie, I felt responsible to get up those three times/night. Mercifully, Colton never stayed awake, he just squawked. I re-plugged him with a pacifier and he went back to sleep. By that seven-month mark in December, I had not slept more than three hours at a time for 9 months. I. DO. NOT. KNOW. HOW. BREAST-FEEDING. MOTHERS. DO. IT. It was the time in my parenting life when I most related to sleep-deprived mothers. Disclaimer: No, I did not carry that child for 9 months. No, I did not push something the size of a melon through a hole the size of a carrot. No, I did not have hormones raging through my body. I did not suffer more …

Potty Control

“Ellison, please don’t put your penis on the dining table.” Since potty-training, Ellison’s “nakedy time” has increased. Can you blame him? We find ourselves saying hilarious things. “Ellison? Did you put your penis in your undies?” is a regular inquiry. Sometimes he answers, “Yes”, when the snake is clearly peeking out of the garden. So potty training went well. For 39 months, we sweated it. In alpha-parent Manhattan, potty training takes on the same competitive comparison as toddlers mastering speech and yoga classes: every other kid seems to be faster than your own. And that might actually be a problem. Non-New Yorkers assured me Ellison was on track. “Calm down. No one goes to college in diapers.” But college and kindergarten are different things. When Ellison was 18 months old, during a particularly pissed-off diaper change, he nodded his assent when I asked, “Do you want to say bye-be diapers?” For three days he peed all over the apartment, only twice on the baby potty. While standing (naked) in front of my partner at the …

Deep Thoughts from my 18-month-old

Colton is in a blissfully frustrating time at 18 months. He understands, “Want to brush your teeth? Take a bath? Stack blocks?” He runs to said item and is ready to brush, wash or stack. Soon he’ll be talking for real. Before that happens, I still like to imagine his thoughts: Wait, have I awoken? Yes. I’m still behind the bars of this bed. I shall make shrill sounds that force that tall one to come into my room. Cry! Ah. Hello, tall, haggard one. I’ll be quiet now. Wait. Let me collect three blankets and my paci before you pick me up. Fine. I’ll sit with you. Why would you deign to thrust this small car in my hands? Wait. Are your eyes still closed? Ugh. I’ll go entertain myself. I see a sippy cup under a chair. Four days of bacterial build up. Deeeee-lish. Tall, neglectful one? Take this sippy cup. Now. Wait, are you standing up? Cry! Blocks? Oh, fine. I’ll indulge your silly obsession with stacking blocks. Stack again. Oh, tall, …

Canine Crisis, Chapter 2

Chapter 2’s “Gavin look” morphs from Chapter 1. The second edition is wide, expressionless eyes with pursed smile. It says, “I’m placating you. Now stop talking and leave.” Google shows three canine acupuncturists serving Manhattan. That such specialists exist surprised me, but then, that there were only three in NYC also surprised me. One of them kindly arrived 24 hours after I called. “Oh, you have kids?” were her first words as Ellison and Colton screamed, running by the door. She was not delighted. Gavin look. “Hm-hmm,” I responded. Off to a great start. She was a driven, direct type who puts non-New Yorkers ill at ease. My partner fled her demeanor by volunteering to play with the kids. Immediately she quizzed me.“Do you have a PT routine for Maddie?” Gavin look. “Hm-hmm,” I nodded. “How many times a day?” “Um…” I tried to sugar coat. “I help her stand and take her outside to pee.” She inserted needles into Maddie’s rump, legs and toes. Maddie didn’t react. After all, her nerves weren’t working. “Hm.” …

#tearlesscrying

My second born son, Colton, is a magnificent study in extremes. He is adorable. He could charm the wallpaper off the walls. His seductive grin makes mincemeat of the hardest of child-hating hearts. And at the opposite extreme, what I call: #tearlesscrying. Not tantrums. It’s worse. He whines incessantly. Seriously, y’all. It’s soul-sucking. Believe me, Colton does not lack for coddling. Remember the whole ‘He’s so cute” bit? He’ll snuggle for hours. (Well, 15 minutes). It’s heaven