So yesterday Easton and I ventured out in the cold and ran plenty of errands. One of them consisted of the grocery store. My biggest fail: I went shopping before we ate lunch so my hunger got the best of my shopping cart. Which means it was filled with my latest cravings; lots and lots of fruit. Meijer happened to have strawberries on sale 3/$5 so I was all about that. Anyways, we stocked up on lots of goodies. As I came upon the baking aisle, I went right for the chocolate. I will be the first to admit that in that moment, I had no intention of doing anything but eat each small little morsel one by one while watching my DVRs.
Last night after a quick dinner, Jake ran out of the house to make it to the station for a call, and he had training shortly after so I knew he wouldn't be home for awhile. I was sitting on the couch while Easton was playing, reading another blog, while I came up with the idea to do something nice. I try to do nice surprises for my husband all the time but he has this weird way of knowing what I'm up to every single time and he always ends up ruining the surprise. When that happens, I tend to get kind of sad that I couldn't catch him off guard. But tonight, I was determined.
I headed to the kitchen and cut up plenty of fruit; including strawberries, bananas, and apples. I even cut up some pound cake that I got on sale (that also looked good and I had been craving it for awhile now). After chopping away, I pulled out the container of melting chocolate. It was somewhat bittersweet because I loveeeeee me some chocolate and I knew by doing this nice, generous surprise, it meant that I would have to sacrifice, most likely all of this chocolate. But, like I said, I try to do nice things. So I melted the chocolate. Here's what I used:
After I melted the chocolate; it's real simple. Dip your fruit into it, and place it on something to cool. Everywhere says "place it on waxed paper to cool" but I didn't have waxed paper so I ignored this step. My advice: DON'T ignore this step! Our chocolate ended up sticking so it was a battle to get it off. Luckily my husband doesn't care if it looks pretty; we both love chocolate and as long as it tastes good, that's all that matters! I placed it in the fridge in our garage because I didn't have room in our kitchen fridge, to cool down and harden.
Then I texted him and told him I had a surprise. Of course, he had that weird way of knowing what I was up too and my surprise was ruined. Oh well, it's the thought that counts right!?
Easton fell asleep shortly before Jake came home from training, so we got lucky and didn't have to share our chocolate goodies with him. He is exactly like us; if it has any type of chocolate in it or on it, he's eating it. But our mini little romantic date filled with chocolate covered goodies and DVRs of renovations on hgtv, did not last very long.
Which brings me to my next topic. Being a mom is amazing. But it does have it's days. I've never been a very patient person until I had Easton. I've learned to be patient, and with a newborn, you don't really have a choice. Most of the time, it's as though you are on your child's clock - not your own. And God has a funny way of testing me. Jake and I were just talking in the car the other day about how we are so thankful that I didn't struggle with any post-partum depression or the blues. We know how serious and scary it can be, and how deep you can get into a dark rut, and during my pregnancy, it was a huge worry for both of us. And we are both so very thankful that we didn't have to tackle that mountain. But that certainly doesn't mean we haven't had any huge rivers to cross or any long grown fields to trench through. These past couple of nights have been a battle within itself with our little man. God has definitely been testing us and it hasn't been the easiest road. With one front tooth that just popped through, a moler coming in, constipation from his new diet change, and the fact that I'm just not producing as much breast milk as I used to - has made for one extremely irritable baby. The days are good, some are great, but once night falls, we're in for one crazy ride. He sleeps in intervals of maybe 2 hours, if were lucky. Awakening in full on cries and screams, refusing to nurse, refusing to take a bottle, he wants no snacks or nothing to eat, we change his diaper and he's even more mad, he wants nothing to do with rocking or walking or sitting or standing. We turn Mickey on and it doesn't even phase him (which our kid is Mickey-obsessed and it's usually the cure for just about anything). He just cries and cries. We take turns holding him, trying to comfort him, and whenever we switch, it causes him to go into an ever bigger scream-fest. They last roughly for a good 15-20 minutes before he settles down a little to a normal consistent cry, and that lasts another 20 minutes. We go around and around with this pattern for usually a good couple of hours before he will randomly stop and fall asleep. When he wakes up in the morning, he's happy as can be. This has happened every night this week. By Wednesday, I called his doctor. She said it's just a phase, to continue to offer him things that might make him happy, and to have lots of patience. Needless to say, Jake and I are past the point of tiredness. This morning though, we were put to the ultimate test. Because of the crazy cold temperatures today, Jake had the day off. After Easton's little rampage last night, he woke happy and ready-to-go this morning! We ran a couple errands and were back home by 10:15am. I decided I wanted to eat a bowl of cereal, so I put Easton in his high chair, gave him some cereal pieces to munch on, and he was one happy camper as I sat on his left side eating my cereal, and Jake was on his right side reading through some emails. He ate his cereal just fine, babbling away and laughing at who knows what.
Out of no where, he started to get fussy so I took him out of his chair - and this sent him into a full blown temper tantrum. He was not having anything after that. He took Jake and I both off guard because he usually only goes through these fussy times in the middle of the night, never during the day. Never - until today. He wouldn't take anything and yet, he wouldn't stop. 15 minutes into the breakdown, Jake's radio went off. We've always agreed that unless it's a holiday or someone is seriously hurt- he always goes on calls. He looked at me, I looked at him, thought about the stack of bills sitting on my desk, and reassured him to go. I thought to myself "he can't be upset for much longer, I can do this." So I heard the front door close and I was alone, face to face, with a very angry toddler. I swear, I tried everything. I even tried giving him things he normally wouldn't be aloud to play with (like the tv remote and I even opened the fridge and tried to let him open the drawers - which any other day these would have been BIG no-no's). Did anything work? Nope. At this point he was thrashing all over the place. Kicking, punching, smacking, pulling at anything he could get his paws on, including my ears and he attempted my eye. I had recently had a conversation about these little outbursts with my mother in law. Thankfully, and like always, she reassured me that this happens. Jake used to do this as a baby and she would place him in his crib and let him cry. After a couple times, he didn't do it again. I knew this must have been very hard for her since she was somewhat of an attachment parent just like I am. But she is an amazing mom and Jake is great, so I knew she did good. So now, after an hour filled with unhappiness, I took a deep breath, walked upstairs, kissed my screaming, crying son, and placed him in his crib. I laid him down, covered him with his blanket, even though he tossed that off in 0.2 seconds, I turned around, and walked away. He cried for maybe 5 minutes before he stopped. I sat downstairs, starring at the baby monitor, watching him sniffle as he played with a toy. I thought the madness had subsided. Unfortunately, I thought wrong. The quiet sniffles lasted a matter of minutes before the anger started back up again. My first instinct was to go up there and get him. But I told myself no. I don't want him to think that temper tantrums will solve everything. I don't want to cave. Just as I began "convincing" myself that he isn't throwing a tantrum and that he needs me (yup- attachment parent right here), I watched on the monitor as he started throwing, with anger, toys and stuffed animals out of his crib. He grabbed the rails on the side of his crib and was jumping, while screaming. At this point, I knew this was a full blown temper tantrum. At this point, it had now been an hour and 45 minutes of madness. I had to leave to run some errands, which I had a time crunch. I hoped, that if Easton got into his car seat and I started to drive, that his tired little self would call it quits and he would fall asleep. I wasn't so lucky. Five minutes after pulling out of the garage, I found myself speed-dialing my husband, and the second he picked up the phone I was begging for help. I felt the tears welting up in my eyes, and he reassured me that he was already on his way back home. I turned around and started heading back that way. One minute out from our house, the screaming settled to a fussy cry with his eyes closed. As I pulled into our sub entrance, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and Easton was passed out, fast asleep, mouth wide open. I was shocked. I pulled into the driveway and before I even got the car in park, Jake was already walking out the front door equipt with a filled bottle, snacks, and several toys in hand. He was ready to tackle more of this battle with me. In that moment, I was forever grateful for my husband. God threw us a curveball and it was a hard one. My parenting was tested, my strength was tested, my faith was tested. But we got through it. I took a moment to myself and I prayed. Prayed for more strength, for forgiveness, I thanked God for believing in me and for giving me such a supportive husband.
Easton woke up from his nap still a little bit fussy, but much better than before. While he smiled at me without a care in the world, I know my face was tired. I look and feel exhausted. I'm tired and drained. At some points, I felt defeat and failure. But I'm coming out on top at the end of the day. I'm still a good wife. I'm still a good mom. I'm still a believer that my God has reasonings for everything, even if I don't understand them. I'm still breathing. And for now, there's peace. Tonight is another night, and tomorrow will be another day. But right now, I will kiss my son and remind myself that this phase will pass. For all you other mamas battling this battle, have patience. For everyone else who isn't, enjoy your sleep!
Xoxo,
Christine
No comments:
Post a Comment