A knowing smile with a simple nod is sufficient.

Just a little FYI to anyone who might find themselves in this position -

Do not try to engage a mother with a crying, thrashing, kicking, screaming child. Don't say some pointless, mindless drivel such as "looks like someone's having a rough day!" Because you know what? She won't be able to hear you anyway, due to the aforementioned screaming child, but she'll probably still feel obligated to stop and say "What?" because you're still looking at her.
Judgmentally.

And it also doesn't help to say "Yeah, most little ones don't like (insert whatever activity it is that you're doing) very much..." and trail off with a look that makes me think you think I'm crazy for attempting said activity.

So here's what I wanted to say:

"Know what, dude?
You're here with two dogs.
I'm here with two kids.
Who do YOU think knows my kids better? You think it's you, with your two huge dogs and your permafrown? Or you think it's me, the one who stopped to talk with your unpleasant ass while I've got an obviously unhappy little one?

"Furthermore, my children do usually enjoy themselves here. Turns out, this one here (motions to Glamour) is flexing her two-year-old feelings. She doesn't show them often but when she does, they are FIERCE. That one (points to Glitz) is being surprisingly well behaved today, probably on account of the fact that her sister is being a hellacious monster and you're a potential tricky person with two huge scary dogs.

"Now can I continue on my way down the path here? I can see that my screaming child is annoying you, and I'm so very sorry that I stopped you and inconvenienced you with my stories about my kids.
Oh wait. That's right.
I DIDN'T. "

But since I really had no intention of actually stopping and making small talk, what I really said was:
"yeah, she always screams like this when I take her out of her cage."

The looks on their faces was priceless.

And here's a pic from last time, when Glamour didn't scream the whole time.

Droppin' bombs

I was brushing my teeth the first time I thought I heard Glitz say it. She was directing it to Glamour. I was in shock at what I thought I heard. My child doesn't say that. Did I hear her right? Did she really just say that?

I put down my toothbrush, wiped the foam from my mouth, and ran out to the living room, although I'm not sure what I expected to see. They were both just sitting in their beanbag chairs, watching Wallykazam.
Again.
They have every episode memorized. They're like little Wally super fans.

I gave both of them my usual "I'm on to you" look and went back to my Sonicare and my quest for proper oral hygiene.




The second time she said it, I was more sure of it. We were in the car on our way home from pre-k, and I heard it.
I knew I heard it.

"Did she really say that?" I pondered to myself as I simultaneously turned down the music and turned to look at her with a "did you really say that?" look on my face.

Her face held no proof that she had really said it.
She just smiled sweetly at me with such an air of innocence, as if she could do no wrong.




At dinner tonight, I heard her say it again, only this time was loud and clear. There was no mistaking it. I witnessed the whole thing as if it was in slow motion.
Glamour was standing beside her chair taking a drink from her water. Glitz walked over to her and bent down to look her square in the face . . .

"Glamour, I love you." 

I froze. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even grab my phone to catch the hug that spontaneously occurred after she dropped that bomb.

She said she loved her!
She loves her!
She finally finally loves her!

That made my heart so happy, to hear her say it so openly and honestly and, most importantly, without being prompted.


Love that little stinker. 

xoxo,
Bex

If you've ever Googled "why won't my baby sleep?" you should read this.

Glamour and Glitz have both been sick for the last week or so. 

Maybe longer, I don't know. I've lost track. The days and nights are merging into one, and I can't tell you the last time I showered, or even ate a reasonable meal. I know there's an end in sight. There has to be. It's just the flu. 

But this last week or so of minimal sleep and maximum demands has taken me back to the beginning...

Back when Glitz was a newborn and I was a new mommy and I had no idea what I was doing. 

Back when she wouldn't sleep more than 30 minutes at a time. 

Back when nursing was the only way, and I do mean the ONLY way, to calm her. 

Back when every nap was spent bouncing on the yoga ball.

Back when the screaming was the soundtrack for my life.

Back when OG was training on a new jet and was away for six weeks straight and my PPD was untreated and ugly. 

Back when I (and probably everyone else) assumed I must be doing something (everything) wrong. 

The early days aren't something I like to revisit. My memories from Glitz's first year of life are sketchy, at best. Extreme exhaustion and sleep deprivation really take a toll on the mind. 

Somewhere around eight months, a friend of mine offhandedly said, "I ran across this article, and I think maybe it sounds like Glitz. You should check it out." 

It was from the Dr Sears website and it was about high need babies. I read the article as tears streamed down my face and a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I finally had a name for it, I finally had a reason for the way she was, I finally had an answer! 

I excitedly explained the concept of a high needs child to OG, and he was completely in agreement. Though this wasn't a diagnosis, as being a HN child isn't a medical issue, it was eye opening as we began to understand what she wanted and how we had to give it to her. 

Even though we were starting to figure out what was making her tick, I knew I needed support. I needed other mothers who were in the trenches with me. Every google and babycenter search turned up no support groups or forums, so I did what I had to do - I made my own support. 

In October 2011, I started a Facebook group for the parents of high needs children. I made it private so that I could vent there without fear of judgment from my friends and family on Facebook, and I added one person so I wouldn't feel so alone. I posted on babycenter about my group, and I thought if I could just have a small group of people who understood what we were going through, maybe that would help us all to have just a little more sanity in our insane existence. 

Little did I know how much that group would help me through the hardest times of my life. What started as a "support for me" group turned into a support group for over 800 people from all over the world. 

I digress. The point of all of this is - if you've ever googled "why won't my baby sleep?" please know you're not alone. You're one of us yoga pant wearing, coffee in hand, messy haired moms who will do about anything to make our unhappy kids happy. 

And it does get better . . . 

until they get sick. 

xoxo, 

Bex

She turned me into a newt!

I know it's been awhile since I've written a blog post, but I've been busy and blah blah blah. 

However, I just had to stop what I was doing and immediately post this. Glitz and I were just in a real life scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

She was asking if hard things shrink in water. I explained to her that only clothes shrink in water. Then she asked if clothes float in water.

Me - Yes, they can, but if they get waterlogged, they'll sink.

Her - What else floats, mom? Do little rocks float?

At this point I was replaying the scene in my head thinking *did she really say "little rocks"?!*

Me - no, little rocks don't float ...

Her - what about wood! Wood floats! 

Me, getting into it and even using a British accent - And witches!!! 

Her - No mommy. Witches don't float. 

Annnnnnd end scene. 

Xoxo, 

Bex 

We have successfully gone ____ days without accident

ZERO. 

The answer is zero days without accident. 

The answer will probably be zero for the foreseeable future. 

Between our two delicate little princesses, in the past week we've had four falls off something higher than a step stool, four bite injuries, three skinned knees, two skinned elbows, countless bruises, a bloody foot, a bee sting, and a smashed middle finger. 

While the fact that Glitz is flipping off the camera (in response to OG asking her which one is hurt) is funny, I can't help but think she's silently thinking, "who ARE these fools? Aren't they supposed to keep me safe?" 

Sigh. I try. But between watching Dr Phil and playing Sims, I really don't have a lot of time for safety seminars. 

C'mon Glitz. 

Take some responsibility already. Watch out for you sister, chances are she's doing something wrong as we speak. 

Xoxo, 

Bex

The two wolves

I wanted to share with you this story that OG told Glitz (3-1/2 yrs old) last week. You may have heard it before. 

~~~~~
One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.
“One is Evil – It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
“The other is Good – It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”
~~~~~

He simplified it for her and gave her examples of how to feed the good wolf, and what behaviors feed the bad wolf. 

Since then, she's been very mindful of not feeding the bad wolf. I'm sure it won't last forever, but it's been working for us lately!

Xoxo, 

Bex

ISO their real mom

I was just putting my makeup on in the bathroom with the door shut. It was so peaceful and relaxing. 

I could've been getting ready for a date, or on my way to an important board meeting. Or maybe on vacation in a tropical place, maybe with the floor but out to where I could see the fish and the water under my hut... 

BUT THEN -- the door bursts open, and all of a sudden there's a tornado of tutus and leggings and ponytails and a dog and a jump rope and the sounds of "momma, Daisy's wearing a Sofia skirt!" from one, and "eats?" followed by a bite on my leg from the other. I screamed, stepped on the dog who took that as a personal offense and yipped at me, Glamour screamed because there's a ruckus, Glitz wanted me to wipe her butt, and all I can think is . . . 

Who ARE these kids? 

Where did they COME from?? 

They're cute, but their real mom is probably missing them by now. 

If you see their real mom, give her my number and tell her they'll be waiting outside on the sidewalk. 

Please and thank you. 

Xoxo,

Bex