Good-Better-Thankful

Things are good. As someone who has survived severe postpartum depression, I rarely say that. I haven't said it more than a handful of times since Cole was born. There is always a sense, no matter how well I am (which is very, very well right now, thanks for asking), that things could plummet at any moment into cloudy bleakville. Recovery from PPD is much like recovery from an addiction. You get better, and better, you work at it, but you are never, ever fully recovered. And that is very hard. I just have to live with it. And living is better than the alternative.

If you or anyone you know may be suffering, visit www.jennyslight.org for information and help.

Crying makes me weary

Cole has a little bug and has been very whiny and crying pretty much non-stop today. Oh. My. Goodness. I am just absolutely spent. There is something about attending to a whiny toddler that wears me out like nothing else.

I have to admit that it does remind me of when I was so depressed with Aidan while he simultaneously was going hungry and colic-y, crying all of the time. Maybe it's just a trigger that sends me to I-need-to-leave-this-living-hell-land. And maybe it is just that I had a bona-fide night out this past weekend. And I am still hung over. Ok, maybe not a traditional alcohol-related hangover. I did have my share (and then some) of gin and tonics, but mostly I think it was the 3:30 a.m. arrival home. My theory is one hour before midnight is worth three after (it used to be worth two, but I'm not getting any younger). I primped for more than an hour, scrubbed my skin within an inch of its life, donned a new (thanks weight loss!) top from my favorite store, Nordstrom, and (gasp!) sprayed on a bit of bronzer. I love getting prettied up, not a lot better as far as I am concerned. I would make an excellent celebrity or model.

I got blisters from the pointy-toes heels and waited for a ride (with my girls) outside for more than hour (can you say hy-pppppp-o-ther-mia?). Then, a very sweet, very young gentleman loaned me his sweatshirt while I waited (and they say chivalry is lost on the gen-nexters). The point is, the farther the departure from my everyday life, the more time it takes to get back into it. Worth it? Yup. Every second.

Bowling prodigy?

We are on spring break this week and in an effort to keep the boys occupied, we went bowling. We went to Elsie's in NE Minneapolis after a friend told us that they had put the bumpers up and had ramps for the balls to roll down for the little ones. It was a fun and inexpensive outing. Aidan wore his madras pants (he picked this morning, so it was purely by chance) and they looked too perfect with the neon green, read and cream bowling shoes. The shoes were new(ish) and had velcro--a major improvement from the ones I used with two strands of lace left.

And Coleman loved loved pushing the ball down that ramp. "Go, ball, go!!" he exclaimed each and every time. And then he clap for himself, all proud. Aidan used the ramp a few times and then started to throw in freehand a few sets in. He was an ace! He got two spares and one STRIKE!! He always rises to the occasion, that first born of mine. Even when, of all things, bowling.

I didn't like bowling when I was growing up. Well, I didn't like bowling alleys, actually. The bowling I could take or leave. The smoke, the general smell, the undesirables, the bathrooms, I simply couldn't take it all. Maybe one at a time, but not all at one time. At 10am, the alley wasn't bad at all. Some overnighters from a local manufacturing plant were there winding down, but everything was clean, and thanks to the ban, smoke free. FYI: We didn't use the bathroom.

No Nuk Coleman

We weaned Cole off his pacifier this past weekend. He's been doing pretty well, but then last night he talked and talked and then was up early this morning. THEN, he napped only for 20 minutes today. Not good. Not good at all.

When Joel got home tonight, I told him I was thinking of going out to buy a new pacifier. I know it's a bad idea. But maybe he's not quite ready. He is a being weaned a about a little later than Aidan was. We said goodbye to the nuks with Aidan and it was pretty much over. But with him, it was keeping him up at night, so it seemed like the logical time. He has a lovey (which is what we call the boys' blankets), so it's not that he doesn't have a transitional object. He saw a baby at the library today with a nuk in and wouldn't take his eyes off of her. Nuk love.

I think I'll give it a few more days before I give up the $4 for 2 of those perfect, mouth-watering, self-soothing, little silicone enablers.

A decision, finally

We have decided to send Aidan to St. Charles next year as a third year of preschool. The catch is he'll be in Kindergarten there. The thought is it will give him an academic challenge (he's already getting a bit bored) while giving him the room to grow socially in a classroom of just 10-12 children. St. Charles is the small school of the church we belong to here in St Anthony. We are relieved to have made a decision.

He will be going in the morning, from 8am until 11:30. This will be an early start for us. There is an option of taking the bus, but as I remember, this adds about 1/2 to your start time. 7:30 is too early to have him ready, so we'll drive there in winter and walk or Burley when it's nice out. We'll have to adjust our schedules a bit, but believe it will be a good fit. Aidan will have more time to spend playing and learning, and since he has always had trouble moving from one activity to the next, this will be great for him.

He's been talking about it a lot and is excited, hoping somedays it was coming sooner rather than later. I am sure it will come all to soon for Joel and I....our baby going to Kindergarten, even if it is for a "starter" year.

Meanwhile, back on the Coleman front: taking many steps, getting confident, toddling around the house with one of many walkers, cars, and shopping carts. We're so proud of how far he's come. His language is light years ahead of where Aidan was at this time, and his comprehension is also advanced. His fine motor skills, like his brothers, are exceptional. He stacked 11 blocks with no hesitation recently. In this year of much worry and even more trips to the specialist, I have learned that there is no right time, no exact date, for children and that no one knows my kids like I do. He walked in front of the whole ECFE class last Wednesday, which was very, very sweet indeed. I've never been more proud.