Author: Yoga Bynum

The Good Stuff

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I was about to start a post on the challenges of getting a newborn and a school-age kid ready each a.m. when I ran across this on Facebook:

“Interesting that I’m only hearing about the ‘horrors’ and inconveniences of being a parent. Trust me, I’m FULLY AWARE. Where are the positives?”

She got me thinking. Why have I been wallowing in the negative when there is so much positive? I’m sure sleep depravation has much to do with it, but I digress.

I love being a mom. It is, along with being a wife, my most important duty. I been blessed with two beautiful girls, and I absolutely adore them.

Each day, there are things that make me smile:

Achievements. When E is excited about a perfect score on a spelling test or her performance in a dance recital, I can’t help but share her enthusiasm.

Seeing myself in the kids. I’m sure my newborn has never watched my husband awake from a deep sleep, but I swear she stretches and grunts just like him. Last week, I caught my husband singing to the baby that she has my nose.

Lots of laughs. Once your kid discovers humor, it’s a whole new ball game. I’ve spent whole car rides listening to knock-knock jokes. She usually gets the punch line wrong, but her laughter is so infectious, I find myself laughing too.

Love. Hugs and kisses from my babies are the best!

Seven and Seven

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I knew having Baby #2 would be a challenge, but apparently, I had no idea. I was ready for diaper changes, sore breasts and late nights.

I wasn’t ready for the toll my girls’ seven-year spread would have on me. The needs of a seven year old often conflict with those of a seven week old. While I’m supposed to be helping with homework or listening to a run-down of the school day, I have to contend with a hungry, crabby, or poopy infant.

Exhaustion doesn’t help. The old adage “sleep when the baby sleeps” had to be coined by a person with only one kid. If I took a nap every time the baby did, my oldest would wear dirty clothes to school and be sustained on a diet of Fruit Loops.

I’m getting better. Or at least I hope I am. The first step was for me to accept the imperfections. Superwoman I am not. Right now, the sink is full of dishes, and there is a basket of unfolded laundry in the living room. I’ll get to them tomorrow.

It turns out the baby likes to sleep during car rides, so this weekend we’ll go out for ice cream. The ride should buy me a tear-free hour, giving me some time with E.

And if I’m lucky, I can catch a nap or two.

Late-Night Blues

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It’s 11:35, and normally, I wouldn’t panic. But my baby has been taking short naps ALL DAY, and she hasn’t truly been awake since this morning. This means our evening is just beginning. Joy.

So what’s a girl to do in the wee hours? I’d like to finish this book I started reading, but turning on a reading light will only prolong an already too-long night. Maybe I’ll just rent a movie and turn on closed captioning.

Big Sister Blues

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My seven year old has been in “Big Sister” mode ever since she found out I was pregnant. She’s weighed in on decor, inspected every item of clothing, and made a birthday card that read “Happy 5th Birthday, Baby!” As to why she skipped birthdays one – four, I have no idea.

E’s enthusiasm remained steady after little sister arrived. She volunteers to help with diaper changes and baths, and she’s ready to entertain whenever the baby is awake.

I’ve come to rely on her excitement and independence. Perhaps a little too much. I’m still working on balancing the needs of a school-age kid and a newborn.

Last night, my eldest made that all to clear. After pouting though most of the evening, I asked her what was bothering her:

“A is more important than me.”

I know such feelings are normal when a new baby comes home, but I was completely caught off guard.

“Why do you feel that way?” I asked?

“You only take care of me when it’s time for dinner. You’re with A all the time.”

I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer for inspiration. The Cosby Show came to mind.

We talked about how the baby can’t do things like get dressed or feed
herself, but that E can. She knows how to choose outfits for school, make her own bed, and pour cereal for breakfast. These were things she couldn’t do when she was younger. So she needed my help then, just like A needs my help now. Needing me less doesn’t mean I love less. It just means she’s growing up.

“Yah Seven!” (Cosby Show Reference)

E feels better, but I’m not sure I do. I know it will take time for me to get the hang of things. I will try not to beat myself up too much. The baby’s doing enough of that already. I wrote most of this post at midnight.