Melissa Anne Cohen

My oldest daughter is very feminine. Very traditionally feminine in a lot of ways. She’s got a thing for babies, likes reading and coloring and dressing up and having her hair done in pretty styles. She’s a girl who likes her creature comforts, she likes a soft clean bed, clean clothes, heat, etc. Which is why I’m fascinated to hear that she’s LOVING life up in Maine this week. My family has been camping forever, and for the past twenty two years, we’ve been trekking three hours up to the Maine coast to camp for a week at a campground called Hermit Island. It’s not precisely an island, more a peninsula, but it’s got lots of beaches, lots of dirt, lots of bugs, and lots of deer. My parents have graduated to a camper (that’s a real rite of passage in my family – getting a pop up camper) but my sister is still using a tent.

I don’t like camping. I love, love, love the ocean, but also love being able to take a hot, clean shower at the end of the day. I like a good campfire, but prefer to sleep in a soft clean bed and go to the bathroom barefoot. Which is why I’m profoundly grateful that my sister Aimee bought a house about twenty minutes away from the campground and graciously lets me (and my pregnant cousin) stay there each year.

Jessica, for the first time ever, went up early. My mother and my sister went up yesterday and Jessie has been camping her little heart out. According to my mother, she’s blissfully happy, thrilled to death, in the ocean all the time, bouncing around the island with a permagrin on her face. Fascinating. I would not have predicted this. In fact, the child I would have thought would love camping would be Sam, and he absolutely hates it. It’s my Jessie Bug who’s a camping girl, she’s the one who lives all year for this one fabled week up at the ocean.

This is just part of what I like about parenting – you’re constantly surprised at who your kids become 🙂

I’m actually late in posting this – his birthday was last Tuesday. We had his first slumber party last night and he was blissfully happy the entire time. We invited his bestest friend Brian (he’s seven and Sam worships him) and Harrison, got them water guns, pizza and a star wars movie and it was heaven for him.

At four years old, I can see the kind of man Sam will grow up to be, and he’s going to be nothing short of amazing. He’s so smart and funny and sweet, and utterly, completely a little boy. He’s all guns and superheros – any sort of man in a helpful role sort of guy. So he loves policemen and firemen and army guys and superheros. He’s embraced the “little brother” role and spends his time bugging his older sister. He’s even started repeating everything she says – like he got a handbook somewhere on how to be the most irritating little brother ever and is just flipping thru the pages, trying out one tactic after another. But when they aren’t fighting, he loves his big sister Jessie and is never happier than when she’s loving him back. He’s also all about being a “big brother,” dropping down to get in Julie’s face and coo “Hello baby girl” at her, frequently scaring the hell out her, because he’ll be running around and see her and then bam, be in her face loving her. He gives me what we call “Sammy snuggles” every morning, crawling into my lap and snuggling right up against me. He still is very much a Daddy’s boy, when Marc is here, he’s the sun that my little boy orbits around. Sam’s all high energy and he runs like a mad man, until he’s tired, at which point, he lays down and sleeps. In so many ways, he’s my easiest child. He rarely has temper tantrums, his emotions are easy to understand, he doesn’t hold a grudge and he’s sunshiney happy a lot. When he does get mad, he gets REALLY mad, and it can take a while for him to calm down. Time outs with Sam are not easy, he’ll scream like a lunatic the whole time and then need a little settle down time afterward. He’s stubborn and strong willed and very definite about what he wants and what he doesn’t.

He’s my love bug, my angel boy. He’s my Samilicious – and I can’t imagine what I’d do without him.

I wish I was a better person sometimes. Well, all the time, I wish I was a better person, but sometimes it really strikes me that my life would be easier if I was less selfish, more giving. More able to put aside my own needs and focus entirely on everyone else’s.

I’m a stay at home mom with three young children. I have a very busy husband with diabetes, and when he isn’t working, he’s working out. I spend what seems like all of my time either chained to a chair in the living room nursing Julianna or scurrying around like the wind, trying desperately to clean up the house. And sometimes, like last night, for example (and most of today, if I’m being honest), it just overwhelms me and I can’t help feeling tired, touched out, worn out. Desperate for a quiet shower without anyone screaming for me. Dreaming of a full night’s sleep and waking up when I’ve slept enough. Wishing for more help, more support, more … of a lot of things. If I had more disposable income, I could hire a maid. If I had more time, I could get the house clean.

There are things about my life that are unchangable. I can’t change the fact that Marc works fifty hours a week. I can’t change the fact that he goes to the gym every other night. I can’t change the fact that the kids make an ungodly mess pretty much all the time. And I’m not blind to the fact that I sound like an ungrateful brat, because my husband is working so hard to make a nice life for our family, and keep himself healthy for us. And I know full well the heartbreak of infertility, and how many women would kill to have my problems.

All that being said… I’m a little unhappy at the moment. Since this isn’t my desired way of being, and it’s up to me to change it, what can I do to make it better? The sleep and the shower – well, I’m probably not going to get those anytime soon. I want to be there for Julianna, I have no desire to sleep train her, and so that’s a managable problem. And I’ll get a shower, she might scream bloody murder while I’m in there, but I can deal with that.

Maybe I just need to get more organized. More structured. Set up some household chores, reasonable bedtimes, and clear expectations about the weekends. This is all managable. I just have to put systems in place to handle it. I’m going to ponder this for a while… Jessica is on her way up to Maine for the week, and I’ll be following behind her on Wednesday with my cousin and the other two kids. While I’m up there, I’ll figure out some new rules, new routines. I think if I get things a little more organized, a little more structured, maybe it’ll be easier.

I’m also going to remind myself of what I’m constantly repeating to my little Jessie Bug Noodle. Happiness is a choice, and I have blessings beyond anything I ever dreamed of. A husband who cherishes me, three healthy children that I’m lucky enough to stay home and raise. I’m going to stop complaining and start being grateful for what I have 🙂

http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

This is my goal. I read a lot, and since becoming a parent, I read a lot of parenting books. There have been several that have really impacted me, but one that had a huge effect on the way I want to parent is Free Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy. It’s about not overprotecting your children, not hovering over every little decision, allowing them to play outside unsupervised. It’s about raising your kids to not just believe that they are capable, but to actually be capable. Giving them freedom. In essence, that’s what it’s about. Giving your kids the chance to become self reliant.

She’s got all kinds of statistics to back her up, hard evidence that the world today is as safe, if not safer, than it was when I was kid. Kids are almost never kidnapped by strangers, and teaching them to be afraid is the wrong lesson. People are basically good, I believe that, and after reading her book, I realized that I wanted my kids to believe that the world is a good place, and that strangers aren’t dangerous and scary. I want them to feel confident and secure, and if I constantly hover over them, never letting them go out of my sight, they’ll learn only that their safety is entirely dependent upon my presence.

So that’s my goal – to let my kids experience a childhood filled with all those things that we think of when we remember the best of our own childhoods. Backyard campouts, playing outside for hours, ranging all over the neighborhood, walking home from school and to and from the library. Bike riding everywhere, just because we wanted to go. It’s letting Jessie and Sam play outside without me there. It’s letting Jessie walk to the store without me, trusting that she’s smart and careful. I’m not good at letting go. I want to be, so I keep trying. Because I want them to be strong and capable and independent. I want them to feel safe and secure by themselves, not just when I’m with them. I want them to feel like they can do anything – and to know that they can. They won’t know that unless I let them try. Unless I let them play outside by themselves, unless I let them out of my sight and let them run. Let them do the laundry, microwave their own food, go to the park without me (although I’m not brave enough for that one yet).

I struggle with it, right now, they’re outside playing and I feel guilty that I’m not outside watching to make sure that nobody steals them. Jessie wants to walk down the street to the Honey Farms by herself and I’m almost ready to let her. She’s walked ahead of me, by a lot, and done fine. Looked both ways, twice, on every cross road and was so pleased with herself as a result. I let Jessie hold Julianna – because I know that she’s careful and I know that her sister is safe in her arms. As a result, Jessie is supremely confident around babies. Because I trusted her, taught her how to do it, and let her. That’s the key. I let her. Which is good for Jessie and Julianna.

So I’m a free range parent. Mostly. Because it does sort of go against my natural instincts – which are to keep them safe, within my line of vision at all times. I love my kids and the thought of them being hurt or even worse, kidnapped, is so horrible to me. But I have to keep telling myself that the chance of that happening is so small, and that the price to be paid by never letting them learn how to be without me is really high. In order to let them grow up, I have to let them learn how to be without me. In the same way that I taught them to eat solids, and to walk, and how to write and read. I have to teach them how to be responsible and smart and then let them do that. Because if I never let them experience life without me, they’ll grow up completely protected and coddled and be incapable of living their own lives. And I want these kids to have the amazing lives they deserve.

Of course, with a title like that, you might expect a more controversial post, but not so much. Simply that Julianna got her two month shots today, and has been asleep for the past two hours. Marc took her for the appt, because I’ve got extra kids here I was watching, plus he took the morning off to do it. I pumped breastmilk, and wanted him to get some quality time in with her. But still missed her like my arm had been severed when he drove away with my baby. He was gone for about an hour and she’s been dozing in her car seat on the dining room table for the past two hours. I don’t think I’ve gone this long without holding her. Ever. I keep telling myself to let her sleep, her body obviously needs it, but I’m missing having my baby girl in my arms, and will probably wake her very soon.

In other news… we’re suffering thru a killer heat wave, and it’s too hot to be outside. Sticky and gross out there, so I’ve got (let me count) six kids in my tiny apartment at the moment, not counting Julie. Three boys and three girls. But they’re cool and playing well, and my living room is a disaster pretty much non stop anyway, so I shouldn’t quibble with a little mess, right?

Off to the beach tomorrow, I think we’re heading to NH. Julie’s first glimpse of the ocean. The older two will have a wonderful time, but Julie and I will be hanging under the umbrella hoping for a breeze all day.

I stole the idea from Beth’s blog (http://notabowinsight.blogspot.com/). When I read hers, it made me think of how much my life has changed and how much I’ve changed since having Jess seven and a half years ago. And how much Sam, and then Julie have influenced me, my choices, the way I handle things. I’m not the kind of mother I always thought I’d be, I’m both stricter and more relaxed than I anticipated, and my life has taken turns and changed me in ways I wouldn’t have believed. I’m much more selfish now, about my time, my emotional energy. I feel like my kids, my marriage have supplanted so much of who I used to be. People I used to drop everything for either adjusted to the change, or dropped out of my life entirely.

I’m a lot more relaxed about parenting than I would have thought. Most of that is Sam, I think. I had to become that way, or I would have died of a heart attack before he was a year old. He’d crawl on top of everything, jump off of furniture, he was so much more physically assertive than Jessie was. I get angrier than I would have thought I would, sometimes Jessie’s temper tantrums can push my buttons faster than I would have thought possible. I’m smug (hopefully just in my own head) about how smart and gorgeous and funny and kind my kids are. And mortified and embarassed by their behavior – in my own head, I feel like everything they do and say is a reflection on how I’m raising them. Intellectually, I know that their personalities are their own, and there’s only so much of it that I can be blamed for or take the credit – but deep down inside, I think I have the ultimate ability to influence their behavior, and when they fight or scream or misbehave, I blame myself.

Jessie changed the way I interact with so many people. She was (and still is, along with her brother and sister and their dad) the most important thing to me. What’s best for them became my litmus test when it came to making decisions. Not all the time, but most of the time. Jessie is the reason for that. Having her changed the way I dealt with the world. If I didn’t make her the top priority, nobody else would. And she deserves that. Jessica made me selfish, made me protective of my time and emotional energy, Jessie taught me to say no to things/people who wanted me to drop everything and help them. She copies so much of my personality, she taught me to be aware of what I was saying and what I was doing, because she’s learning how to be a woman by watching me.

Sam made me patient. Sam taught me to trust my kids, to give them space to figure things out. He taught me that by letting go a little bit, I give my kids the freedom to fall, to get up again and learn to do things. He forced me to relinquish control. He made me feel needed in a way that I hadn’t been before, by nursing for three plus years, and defending that choice to everyone. Sam taught me, in a way that I couldn’t have understood before having a son, how incredibly important his daddy was in raising him. Jess was and is a Mommy’s girl, but Sam needs, wants and worships his dad in a way that’s unique to him, and I’m forever grateful that Marc is the man that he is.

My Julie – my tiny baby girl. I’m more relaxed about her. I’ve learned enough to know that mothering is a lifestyle, that every little choice isn’t that critical. That’s it’s okay to trust my instincts, it’s okay to throw out the advice and rules about parenting – it’s perfectly okay to not have a crib for her, to wear her, to nurse on demand. She’s so much easier, in so many ways. She doesn’t have the health problems that Sam did, with reflux and colic. She’s not my first baby, so I feel like I know what I’m doing now. I’m enjoying her babyhood so much. I’d say that Julie is teaching me to live in the moment – to enjoy every second of it.

I’ve learned that pacifiers can be a lifesaver, that nursing is something that’s so incredibly worth fighting for. I’ve learned that cosleeping is the only way to go. I’ve learned that there’s nothing more important than reading to your kids, and that making them hate you is sometimes necessary. I’ve learned that it goes by so fast, and that this is a time in my life that I’ll never get back. There will be time for all the things that I’m NOT doing now, time for college classes and lots of grown up girl time, time for sleeping late and learning to knit and date nights. There will, please God, be a time when my living room will stay clean for more than ten minutes at a time. I’ve learned that a marriage is more than falling in love, it’s a hard, hard thing to do sometimes, but so incredibly worth it. That having a partner in life, not just for parenting, but for everything, makes it so much easier. I’ve learned independence, I’ve learned about strength and about tenderness and hugs and kisses and so much joy and love.

I wouldn’t trade the last seven years for anything – and thank God for them every day. And if I’m very, very lucky, I’ll have another eighteen years or so of raising these kids, and then I’ll get some gorgeous grandchildren. And every minute that I’m not out having grown up girl time, going out alone with my husband, or taking college classes, I’ll spend with them 🙂

Yes, I’m channeling various Grey’s Anatomy characters. I’ve been watching that while I nurse and/or pump because I can’t really hold the hard cover books I’ve been reading lately easily while holding the baby or the the pump. I’m also considering renaming this blog – “The on-going saga of trying desperately to nurse my third child.”

Let me just recap – I started out FINE. She latched on well, everything worked perfectly. Until the third day, when she randomly stopped nursing. Because we were dealing with jaundice, I had been told to nurse her non-stop, and after eight hours of her not nursing at all, I was a hysterical mess and ended up giving her formula. That Sunday remains the day that will live in infamy for me, and for really, anyone who saw me that day, because I cried. All.Day.Long. It was awful, I was devastated at the prospect of not nursing, felt like a miserable failure of a mother, sure that my baby girl wouldn’t love me the way the other two did. But we soldiered on, I got some nipple shields, she figured out that she had to nurse or not eat, and we did okay.

Less than a week later, I think, I realized that she had thrush. Then I got thrush. The medication the pediatrican prescribed worked for her, but not for me, and nursing (on the left side) became incredibly painful. So I got an rx for diflucan. Cleared it up, and it seemed to be pretty good, at least on the really painful side, so I figured it would be okay.

Only then I ended up with a crack in my nipple. I thought it was thrush coming back, so I went into see the doctor, and he said ‘nope, that’s just a crack, suck it up.’ So I did. Back to the nipple shield, lansinoh, and pumping. Three weeks later, it wasn’t improving at all, and back to the doctor we went. Only now, I’ve got multiple fissures, and a staph infection. So I started on an antibiotic, and kept using the shield and pumping.

This morning, I woke up with a yeast infection – caused by the med for the staph infection, caused by the crack that was caused by the thrush. And this time, the doctor I called told me that I’d have to stop nursing for 24 hours because the diflucan isn’t good for the baby. Since I’ve taken it before and not had that warning, I went to the internet to see what I could find about it, and after reading the symptoms of thrush, realized that I’ve probably got it back on that one nipple. The dryness, flakiness, redness, extreme pain… And I’m just floored. Seriously? Thrush? A-freaking-gain? Are you kidding me? This is now just ridiculous. Just to review – she’s just over two months and I’ve been rollercoastering from nursing strike, to thrush, to cracked nipple, to numerous cracks, to staph infection, to yeast infection and back full circle to thrush. I’m so not even a little bit amused.

But on the upside – at least she’s fully breastfed, right?

How messy a living room can get in so short an amount of time. I keep trying to tell myself that I’ve got a very little living space with a lot of children – and it’s natural and normal that it should be messy. That it’s more important to spend time cuddling my baby girl, or playing trucks with my boy child, or reading to my big girl than to worry about whether or not the Uno cards are scattered all over the floor. But the problem with that is that a messy house makes me crazy. If I could have a maid who scurried along behind the children cleaning in their wake, then my life would be blissful.

But alas, there’s just me. So the obvious solutions are to either resign myself to being that maid, teach the children to clean up after themselves, or get used to living in a pigsty. I vacuum frequently, and the dishes and laundry are done several times a day (folding and putting away is another story). But there are toys every freaking where, and that’s despite having cleared out a whole bunch.

In other news… other than living in squalor, my little family is healthy and happy and content. Jess is finishing up her first week at summer camp – she gets swimming lessons twice daily, art classes, Israeli culture classes and apparently, they make her climb a ladder periodically for reasons that she can’t explain to me. Sam got brand new Justice League underwear today – which is great, because he’s developed the habit of taking off his underwear everytime he goes to the bathroom. So, if I want to keep him dressed, I almost have to go thru three or four pairs of underwear daily. I exaggerate a little, but not much, because he tosses them into the corner of the bathroom or hides them under the couch, and I’m not sure if they’re clean or dirty and when it doubt, I just get him a new pair. And since I wash clothes all the time, but rarely fold and put them away, he’s always got lots buried in the laundry basket and not sitting in his dresser waiting for him. So six new pairs in the rotation will definitely help. We’ve made a deal – he has to wear at least underwear when there are other people here. When it’s just us, he can run around naked. This is a good compromise – he’d rather be naked non-stop and I’d rather he be dressed all the time. Julianna was not in the mood to sleep last night, just wide awake at eleven o’clock, so we sat up and watched Grey’s Anatomy reruns again. She’s such a little love, all cooing and smiling and sweetness.

My staph infection and “multiple fissures of the nipple” are not doing well. I’m going on my second month of dealing with this, it started at the beginning of June (May having been taken up with a nursing strike followed a week later with thrush). I’m taking my medicine, using the lansinoh, and it still hurts unbelievably. I really think I’m going to just always have to have the shield and/or pump on that side. The other side is doing great, nursing is pain free, and thank goodness, I’ve had no problems with supply – Julianna is growing like a little weed, she’s so big 🙂

Not too much to write about at the moment. Normally, I’m bubbling over with topics, but lately, not so much. Anyone have any questions? Any ideas? Feel free to comment or send me an e-mail with topics – I could obviously use some inspiration.

Status updates…

Marc is doing well, not liking his job lately, but then again, he hasn’t liked it for a while now, but still keeps showing up 🙂 His diabetes is basically under control, he’s on a new work out schedule, he’s going to the gym every other day, and while I still hate it, I have to reluctantly admit that it’s definitely working. He’s losing weight and seems to be happier. Not that he’s ever miserable, my husband is an uncommonly cheerful man, but it does help to keep him that way.

Jessica is in the middle of her first day of camp. And in classic Jessie style – is alternately hating and loving it. She’s getting so grown up, all long legs and big eyes, and I’m fascinated, watching her mature and grow into herself.

Samuel is also growing so fast. He’s starting preschool in the fall, and can’t wait. I worry that it’ll be hard for him, going without me. He’s been my buddy for so long, and I’m wistful and sad, just a little bit, that he’s growing up so fast.

Miss Julianna is so big. So literally big. She’s grown so fast and is so gorgeous. Heartbreakingly beautiful, I love her little face when she’s asleep, I could watch it for hours. She’s cooing and smiling and awake for longer and longer every day. I can’t remember life without her, it feels like she’s been here forever.

We had the loveliest weekend. Which I so needed after Friday. Let me back up a bit.

Jessie got out of school on Tuesday. Wednesday, she had a playdate in the afternoon, and then my mother picked her up. She spent the night at my sister’s house (staying up far too late watching – ironically – Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen) and then spent the whole day at the lake with my mother and three of her cousins. I picked her up that night at my mother’s house, along with two of my nieces and by the time we got home and them settled into bed, it was really late again. Friday, I had several thousand extra children here – and Jessie had just reached the limit of how much she could handle. Over stimulated, over tired, whatever applicable excuse I could come up with – she was beyond epically miserable. She cried, almost non-stop, for three hours in the middle of the day. (She finally pulled it together around two, just in time for Sam to start sobbing). She was just wrecked. At one point, I was outside with all the other kids and she was inside, crying. We live on a dead end street on a second floor apartment, and she was standing at the window, sobbing and gazing down at us. I went in to get freeze pops for the kids, and tried to coax her into joining us. She looked up at me, with tears streaming down her face, eyes all swollen, and told me that she knew I didn’t love her, I used to say she was one of my favorite children, but I’d been faking it for seven years and she knew the truth now. She was so earnest and so devastated, but on the same hand, so unnecessarily dramatic that I just had to laugh. I gave her a hug and lugged her down and she snuggled with me for a while. Friday was Marc’s gym day, and by the time he got home, I was so tired and the house was not pretty. Jessie had cried herself to sleep, and I hate having to do that do her, but really, she was so exhausted that there was nothing else I could do but send her to bed and let her sob until her eyes finally shut. Julie was doing the non-stop nursing and Sam, God love Sam, he needed a bit of attention too. It’s hard when I’m home alone with three kids, especially when one (or two) are demanding 100% of me. Someone always gets the shaft, and then I’m overwhelmed and guilty.

But Saturday was delightful. We stayed home in the morning and cleaned, and then picked up Lilli and Sarah and headed down to the State Pool in Clinton. Julie needs to stay out of the sun, so for the most part, Marc took the kids into the pool and I sat in the shade with the baby. This may be the best year ever for the pool, because Jess is old enough to swim without being held, and Sam would much rather be in the big pool with Marc than playing in the baby pool. Every other year, we’ve had at least one kid who wasn’t big enough for the big pool, and kids who are too big for the baby pool. After we left the pool, we went out for dinner, and then home. Sunday, we did pretty much the same thing – only instead of going to the pool, we went to my mother’s house. We hung out, had a cookout, sat in front of a little bonfire – it was wonderful.