Melissa Anne Cohen

Actually, it’s a little candle holder, and instead of marbles, I use those little foam letters (because I have literally thousands leftover after Jessie’s birthday party).  I read this idea somewhere, so I can’t take total credit – but I started this new policy.  Whenever I notice my kids working together, playing together nicely, being kind to one another, etc – they earn a letter in the jar.  And when the little candle holder fills all the way up – they get some sort of treat (to be determined later). 

Since instituting this – I’ve noticed that they actually are nicer to one another.  Granted, Sam has twice already asked for letters for playing quietly by himself, and today, Jessie begged me to please just get rid of Sam because she just couldn’t take living with him anymore – so it’s not perfect.  But I’m pleased with the experiment – and it’s well worth the price of the ice cream cone that I’ll buy them at Friendly’s once they finally fill up that little cup.

Yeah, that’s right – I’ve got thrush.  Again. 

Julianna had her first ear infection and just finished her amoxicillin.  I had been blaming painful nursing on her biting.  But last night, it went from just a little painful into holy moly painful.  In the middle of the night, it hit me.  It’s thrush, you idiot.  That’s what I actually said out loud to myself around three o’clock, when she’s nursing away and the pain was too much for me to doze thru.  So I got up this morning and really looked at my nipples (which I actually don’t do all that often) and it was there – the tell tale signs, the white flakiness, the general just yuckiness of the whole thing.   

I don’t think Julianna is a mad nursing fool the way her brother was.  I nursed Sam until well past his third birthday – but Julie just isn’t that into it.  She really likes regular food – in fact, we’ve started calling her Julie Bottomless Pit Cohen, because she’ll just eat and eat and eat.  Whatever Marc’s got in a bowl, she wants and will scream until he delivers it to her.  So her nursing is tapering off and while she’s far from all the way done with it, I can see that the end is in sight.  I just really don’t want it to be because I’m starting another three months of utter nursing hell, thrush to multiple fissures leading to a staph infection and then topping it all off with a nice dose of ringworm.  I don’t want to go there.  Not again.

So I’m taking an oral rx for a yeast infection, treating it topically with the anti-ringworm cream that worked last time.  Pumping on the side that hurts the most and I’ll probably start giving Julie the nystatin as well.  I have checked with her pediatrician, but after the number of doctors I saw the last time this happened, I’ve learned that they don’t actually know any better than I do about how to deal with nursing problems. 

She’s sitting in her walker, munching pizza and chanting over and over again “ra, ra, ra, HA.”  Like it’s some sort of song that she’s made up.  She’s getting her first little cold, and is all runny nose and crabbiness.

At eight years old – she is passionate, dramatic, emotional, inquisitive, maternal, loving, impetuous and always, always such a blessing.  She was born on a wintery, snowy, snowy day eight years ago and from the very first moment, she has held my heart in her hands.  I’ve never before felt anything so strongly, so instantly.  I just flat out fell in love, and have yet to come to grips with the fact that she’s my own little baby girl.  I’ve watched her grow from an angel faced infant to a chubby cheeked toddler to a skinny chicken big girl and now I’m seeing glimmers of the woman she’ll become and I’m amazed and stunned and always completely blown away by the miracle that she is.

Her favorite color is purple, her favorite food is Chinese.  She hates getting into a shower and hates getting out almost as much.  She’s a daydreamer and easily distracted, doesn’t like reading fiction but will pore over a science book or a book about mythology for hours.  She likes her music loud, her favorite destination is always the mall, and she sleeps with seventeen stuffed animals every night.   She watches the news, keeps up on current events and has a much better grip on this world than I ever did at her age.  She’s still happiest when she’s sleeping in my bed, or snuggled up next to Daddy at night watching Mythbusters.  She’s an avid computer addict, loving webkinz and y8 games, she’ll draw for hours, creating her imaginary world (LaLa Land – she’s got a map of the territory, a pledge of allegience and a list of laws).  She’s a stereotypical oldest child, with a tendency to take control of the situation (or be miserable because she can’t), she takes little kids under her wing, and holds her little cousin Abby with more confidence than many adults.   She’s an incredible big sister, tolerating Sammy’s little brother antics with a lot more patience that she gets credit for, and makes her baby sister’s eyes light up every time she walks in the room.

Jessica Mary – you are my biggest girl, my first baby, and my angel girl.  You made me a mother, you changed every last little thing about my life, and I thank God for you every single day.  I love you, I love being your mom and on this day, your eighth birthday, I wish for you all the blessings possible – I want you to grow up to be brilliant and beautiful, smart and fulfilled.  I want for you everything you could possible want for yourself and so much more. 

We went to a birthday party today, for Marc’s cousin’s daughter.  It was one of those ginormous party blow up places, where the kids bounce around like lunatics for an hour and a half, and then all sit quietly and eat pizza and cupcakes.  So I was sitting across from the table with Julianna on my lap, watching all four of my cherubs eat.  They passed out the cake and got ready to sing, and I could see Sam’s face growing more and more panicked.  I called over to Marc and told him to go get Sam – who, at this point, had clapped his hands over his ears and was closing his eyes in preparation for the onslaught.   Of his friends and family singing happy birthday.  What’s up with that?   He hates that song.  Always has, probably always will…

I haven’t posted in a while – and it coincides with Julianna getting three teeth in.  One is all the way in, one is mostly, and the other one is poking it’s way in and my angel baby girl is so unbelievably miserable.  In fact, she’s starting to cry again now… teething is the absolute worst.  She doesn’t sleep any more, barely smiles – I feel awful for her.  One tooth at a time – I think that should be the law.  She’s cutting all three at once, but staggered out to maximize the amount of time that she’s in agony.

And I’ll be sad.  Because really, how often does someone love you enough to want to sit on the bathmat and play with the Tums bottle while you pee?   It goes by so fast.  I couldn’t pay Sam or Jessie to sit in the bathroom with me these days.  Not that I would… exactly.  But I realized earlier, as I carried Julie out of the bathroom, that as frustrating as this stage is, as much as sometimes I’d like to pee solo whenever I want, it’s not going to last forever.  And I’ll miss it when my baby is rushing out the door, tossing off a good bye to me as she slams the door.  I’ll look back on this day and wish I could do it all over again.

It’s entirely possible that I’ll do a separate post for each tooth that this child pops out.  When she’s teething, she morphs into this entirely different baby.  She’s not unpleasant, she’s actually in a pretty decent mood as long as I’m within two feet of her at all times.  But when I stray – to say, go to the bathroom, or shower, or God forbid, load the dishwasher, she sobs like I just cut off her leg. 

All babies are wonderful, and all babies are challenging.  Some more so than others.  I’m blessed in that my kids are, temperment wise, all over the spectrum.  Sam at one end, Julianna on the other, and Jessie occupying this special place in the middle.  I find it fascinating – of course, they are my kids, so I don’t necessarily think that other people will find it as interesting, but it’s my blog :-).

Jessie and Sam are very similiar in their emotional sensitivity.  Not always in their expression – Jessie is far more likely to storm off to her room than Sam is, but both of them are very dramatic and intense.   Sam is super sensitive to correction – discipling him is difficult because he takes it so personally that he reacts like I (or Marc) am beating him with a stick when in fact, we actually just said very calmly – “hey, calm down a little, okay?”  I exaggerate a little for emphasis, but he does tend to get much more upset than is warranted when his behavior is corrected.  Jessie, on the other hand, I have to be careful to shield whatever I’m feeling – if I’m tense or stressed out, it’s a recipe for her to lose control.  Any emotion that I’m feeling, she magnifies back at me.  Which is great most of the time, because I’m pretty happy, but on mornings when I’m running late and everything is going wrong – well… there have been many mornings when both of us are sobbing before she leaves for school. 

Julianna is very happy go lucky – she’s generally pretty convinved that the world is filled with people who love her and is delighted to learn more about it.  She’s very social, likes to be in the center of the action.  I wonder where she’ll fall… will she be one of those kids who just sort of rolls with it?  I’m sensing not – she’s developed a bellow, a scream, almost – and it’s just when things aren’t going her way.  The food isn’t appearing fast enough on her high chair, the toy she wants is still out of reach, Daddy is ignoring her.  Whatever it is – she opens her mouth and just… bellows.  That’s really the best way to describe it. 

(in no real order)

1.  Number one rule is to get the baby fed.  If that means supplementing with formula, it’s not the end of the world.  But breastfeeding is so much more than just feeding the baby, and you don’t want to miss out on it.  It really is worth all the struggles.

2.  You really never do regret the time you spend holding your child.  Even if you are told by everyone that you are spoiling your baby, at the end of the day, it’s your baby and you can spoil them if you want to.

3.  A broken arm doesn’t really look like a broken arm.  Sometimes it looks like a four year old who’s being too dramatic.

4.  Benedryl really does fix everything.  Runny noses, hives, coughing, crappy moods, etc.  It’ll even get rid of contractions.

5.  The worst pregnancy leads to the easiest delivery.

6.  Being a good parent is accepting the child you have and loving them, not blaming yourself and them for personality quirks that make everyone’s life more difficult.

7.  Sometimes, the best way to avoid a fight with your beloved husband is to pretend that he’s not home.

8.  When your child hurts, it hurts you ten thousand times worse.

9.  Letting your child know that it hurts you isn’t always a good idea, because if they know that you’re freaked out, it just makes it harder for them.

10.  Standing with all the other parents waiting to pick up your child from school feels an awful lot like standing on the playground when you’re a little kid yourself. 

11.  Nobody really cares if you’re late or cancel plans last minute.  People understand you’ve got kids – and if they don’t, you should really rethink your social group.

12.  Nothing bad happens if you occasionally give your kids oreos for breakfast.  Not saying it’s a great idea for every day, but every now and again, it’s a nice break.

13.  Speaking of breaks – it’s totally okay to hand your nine month old food you know damn well she’s just dropping on the floor or shoving down into the high chair, if it buys you enough time to eat your own dinner while it’s still hot.  You can always clean up later.

14.  When your baby wraps her arms around your neck for the first time and squeezes, and follows it up with an open mouth sloppy kiss, you will literally be brought to tears at how incredibly blessed you are. 

15.  Having a little boy is baffling (who are these super heros and why does he keep trying to emulate them, screaming “I’m the FLASH” and tearing around the house, or hurling batarangs at imaginary villians), but it’s one of the most tender, loving relationships you’ll ever have.

16.  Listening to your daughter sing along with the radio is the most disconcerting sensation, because you’ll suddenly start thinking of her as someone who will one day actually feel those emotions and it freaks you out – because you could swear that yesterday she was still saying “wuv” instead of  “love.”

17.  You’re never really as good at mothering as you want to be.  At any point, you could list a million things you wish you had done differently.

18.  Your kids will fight faster and meaner with their siblings than with anyone else.  This doesn’t mean that they don’t love and adore them – and it doesn’t mean you’re a crappy parent.  

19.  You will feel like a crappy parent far more often than you will feel like a good one.  Because the job definition is so endlessly changing and there’s no way to prepare for any of it.

20.  Your job isn’t to make your child happy – in fact, making your child happy all the time is the quickest way to screw it up.  Sometimes, lots of times, you have to kind of make them not like you all that much.  Bedtime, eating vegetables, taking baths and going to the doctor – nobody wants to do them, and that’s why God gave children parents.

21.  Speaking of God – there’s no faster way to figure out how you feel about religion than to have a child who asks about it. 

22.  It doesn’t really matter what bed everyone sleeps in at night.  You can make the most beautiful bedroom and your eight year old would still rather sleep snuggled up next to you, and you can not share a bed with your husband for years on end and still have a really awesome sex life (apologies to my children who may be reading this years from now…).

23.  Really grasping that your husband is as much a parent as you are is incredibly hard, and infinitely worth it.  Because your kids deserve two equal parents – and your husband brings stuff to the table that you’d never think of.  Like knowledge of super heros, for example. 

Actually, it’s not, it’s my mother’s birthday today, but mine is tomorrow and that’s close enough.   I was thinking about how much everything has changed since this time last year.  I was so pregnant and itchy and uncomfortable last winter.  Not enough time has passed since Julianna’s pregnancy, I can still remember how just miserable I was thru most of it.   But holy moly – it was so incredibly worth every single second of it.  Julianna is such a joy and I can’t imagine not having her. 

Marc lost his job in September of this year, and that’s also been, in an odd way, an incredible blessing.  In a lot of ways, financially, we’re actually better off now, and having this time home with him is wonderful.  I love it, I love having him here, I love seeing him with the kids.  I’m so incredibly fortunate, to have married my best friend and to be able to raise a family with him.  He won’t be home forever, obviously, so I cherish my time with him now. 

We’ve also moved to a new house – and I still love it so much.  I love the big kitchen, the enormous dining room.  I love the backyard (currently covered under eight feet of snow, but I know it’s there), and love, love, love the deck.  I love that the girls have their own bedroom, I love the playroom downstairs, and love that Samilicious has his own bedroom as well.  I also love that Sam won’t play in his bedroom or downstairs by himself – for such an anti-social boy, he hates being alone.  He’ll keep himself busy and amused in the living room or dining room, but he likes to be with Marc and I.  All the time.

I’ve also seen the growth of a serious bond between my baby girl and her big brother.  She loves the other kids, of course, and adores Jessie in particular, but because Sam is home with her so much, she just lights up when he’s around. 

So I’m bopping around the yahoo homepage and run into a writing prompt on how public is your blog meant to be.  This blog wasn’t ever meant to be super public, which is to say that my target audience was always just me.  I like to write, it helps me to understand where I am and where I’ve been.  I’ve met (if you can use that term to describe people you’ve never actually seen) some awesome people thru this blog (JoEllen, I can’t ever thank you enough for getting me thru the nursing crisises I had with Julianna), reconnected with some that I had totally lost touch with, and in some cases, the blog provided ammunition to be used against me.  I love that people read it (most people, anyway).  I love the communication and I love the comments and the feedback.  But at the heart of it, this blog is for me.  It’s for my kids, I wanted Jess and Sam and Julie to be able to look back and have a record of what their childhood was like for me.  I think it’s really wonderful to be able to look back and remember some of the more memorable parts of motherhood.  So much of what I do is lost in the day to day hustle bustle of it all – I’m afraid I’d forgot all those little moments if I didn’t blog about them. 

I blog when I can, and not as often as I’d like to.  But this is mine and it’s me more than almost anything else.  It’s where I am, what I’m thinking, what I’m doing.  I love this blog.

Right now, Jessica is off at Hebrew School, and Sam and Julie are playing behind the couch.  We have baseboard heat here, and have to keep the furniture away from the wall in order to have it not frigid.  (Forget warm, I shoot for not frigid).  Sam quickly figured out that he could put his feet on the heater and stay warm and it quickly became his favorite place in the whole house.  He’ll sit on the couch at night, if I coax him, but mostly, he just hangs out behind the couch.  He moved Julie’s bumbo seat back there, and asked if she could come play.  She’s never sat behind the couch (because really, why would she?) and is utterly thrilled to be included in his game.  She almost never sits in the bumbo anymore – I keep it around for Becky’s daughter Abby, she’s really too big for it, so I don’t expect it to last long.

As far as milestones go – my baby is not even a little bit interested in crawling.  She will occasionally butt scoot forward, but for the most part, she just sort of hollers to get what she wants.  She’s VERY verbal, and is already saying a whole bunch of words.  Unfortunately, the only one that she seems to do on purpose knowing what it means is to cough.  I think she believes that it means hi.  She’ll say mama, aimee, ammy (Sammy?), abba, baby, happy, abby – all things that sound like she’s talking, but I don’t think she actually understands it yet.  But she’ll look right at you and cough on purpose and smile.