A New Toddlerado Chapter

Although I haven't posted in over a year, Toddlerado has always been on my mind. I always knew, or at least hoped, I was just taking a hiatus. Sometimes hobbies have to take a back seat to daily life. I've continued to write and take pictures and now that Cecilia is a toddler I feel I have the room in my life to pick it back up. I also have a new vision for the blog and instead of writing about my personal life, Toddlerado will have a new home at www.toddlerado.com and be a resource for families who want to explore the great outdoors in Northern Colorado. I'll be reviewing trails, campsites as well as sharing stories about our adventures with two little girls in the wilderness. I already have so many ideas!

Thank you so much for reading and I can't wait to share the next chapter.

A Good Day for a Photo Shoot

Apples to Oranges

Layla

  I will try not to constantly compare my children.
  So far I am off to a rotten start.

  Since the day Cecilia was born it’s been a comparison
free-for-all. From how long the C-section lasted to nostril size to spit up frequency to sleeping habits.  I've come to the conclusion no two babies- no matter how close in genetic makeup- are the same. They may look A LOT alike and both have sweet dispositions -as well as a propensity for cradle cap and diaper rash- but that is where the similarities end.

  Follow this one with a towel folks, she’s a spitter. But also a sleeper. An amazing sleeper. Like sleep from 8pm to 7am with one nighttime feeding either at two or four. Not and four, or four.  I’m not bragging. It has nothing to do with me. I've been in the opposite corner, crying and sleep deprived. Worried somehow I'd kill the snoozing baby on my chest in my sleep. But it was the only way to get any sleep.

  And so there you are, questioning your ability to be a mother. Listening to other moms talk and reading books and articles about sleeping children and what to do early on to ensure it happened. Well, now I know for a fact it’s a bunch of hooey, at least for me. Some babies sleep, others act as the most effective form of birth control for the first three years of their life.  Sorry Layla, your plans to be an only child were foiled.

Cecilia

  Hopefully I haven’t inflicted any permanent damage yet, constantly comparing my two girls. It’s just natural to compare and contrast two wildly different yet amazingly similar experiences that I know will be remembered as two of the most wonderful times of my life.

Layla

Cecilia

When Breast Isn’t Best

  Whether or not we breastfeed, whether or not we stay home, whether or not we vaccinate… When you become a mom there's a whole slue of touchy subjects to add to the likes of religion and politics.

 I do not consider myself an activist. I make personal decisions based on what I know to be true- truths influenced by how I was raised, what I’ve read, who I trust, who I’ve become- all shaping my conclusions and decisions. 

 Some decisions seem to make themselves- I knew I'd go to college, get married, have babies, have a career, breastfeed and have excellent taste in music. But even though you see yourself on a trajectory there is always a sigh of relief when it works out. I graduated from college, I fell in love, I’ve been gainfully employed and I still think my taste in music is phenomenal. Both of my healthy newborn girls took to the breast immediately and both are up on their vaccinations. No hard choices here, just my life unfolding.

  Unfortunately I’ve had to quit what was once, for me, the most natural act.

At three weeks Cecilia had a diaper that didn’t look quite right. The doctor agreed and thought the blood-tinged mucus in her stool might be the result of a milk protein allergy. So I cut out dairy for a week but after another mucus filled diaper I also had to cut out soy, wheat, nuts and eggs. The dietary restrictions were tough but luckily I love to cook and love an excuse to shop at Whole Foods so I made a choice it was worth it to continue breastfeeding.

  For the next couple weeks I studied my newborn’s dirty diapers, even holding them up to the light to ensure all were mucus and blood free. Unfortunately another episode meant giving her a special formula for a week while I pumped… and me becoming an emotional train-wreck. I had no idea how much breastfeeding meant to me and how much I took it for granted. While on the formula her stool was completely normal. I began nursing every other feeding and once again she had a diaper with mucus and traces of blood. Despite my efforts to cut out whatever was bothering her, something in my milk was causing my baby harm. I had to stop.

 Breastfeeding is like having a second umbilical cord. Even when not actively nursing there’s an invisible connection between mother and baby. But now this connection has been severed and although my brain knows my daughter will thrive on her special formula, my heart breaks. I try to look at the bright side, I can eat whatever I want, I can have adult beverages and as much coffee as I desire and I am no longer on a two hour leash. I won’t have to pump when I return to work and there is no reason for me to be the only one to get up in the middle of the night. But I’m mourning the closeness breastfeeding provides and I somehow feel I have failed. Although my pediatrician, ObGyn, parents, husband are all supportive and assure me my baby will still be healthy and happy, it’s hard to shake what has been so engrained in my brain- breast is best.

  It took a few weeks but my body, mind and heart are all coming around to the conclusion that Cecilia will be just fine.  I can now give her a bottle, look into those big blue eyes and bond with her during feedings. I can deal with the now very stinky spit up and poo. And I'm incredibly thankful there is formula out there for babies with this very issue. 

  I’ve also had to admit to myself that not only did I enjoy providing what I believe to be the most natural and beneficial nourishment for my children, but I took pride in being a breastfeeding mom. And now I’ve been kicked out. And now I have to wonder if women are secretly judging me for feeding my baby formula. Even if they don’t mean to. Even if they think of themselves as a ‘pro-choice’ supportive woman... Because I guess without really thinking about it,  I kind of did too.  

Tales from the 3rd Trimester Volume 1: The Day my Dog Returned From the Dead

On a Thursday morning in August I let my first born, my nine-year-old chocolate lab mix,  out for her supervised visit to the backyard. Although she’d been surprisingly well behaved since the move, we knew the house we bought was not “Lucy friendly.” Meaning it wasn’t meant to keep a dog capable of jumping six-foot fences contained. Few yards are but she could easily clear the three-foot fence in our new, much smaller yard and the neighborhood is crawling with dog bait – bunnies.   

   Hundreds and hundreds of bunnies. Evil little bunnies that on this August morning proved too much temptation for my spastic dog. She jumped the fence and took off after one running west up the dirt road and around a garage.  Being 6.5 months pregnant at the time, I did not give chase but instead woke Court so he could go get her back, enticing her back with a tennis ball. But she was nowhere to be seen. Gone.

  We called the humane society, we posted an ad on Craig’s list, we combed the neighborhood. Days went by. And each day I couldn’t stop my brain from imagining some horrible new way my dog died.

  I heard the coyotes and knew Lucy was attacked by the pack. I saw the circling hawks and knew she had broken an ankle in a field and they were waiting for her to die to pick her bones.  I heard the train, I heard the traffic. You get the idea. For 15 days I pictured over a dozen ways my dog met a tragic and lonely death. 

  Day 15 was a Friday and I passed her dog bowls vowing to put them away that weekend.  Accepting she was gone and that I would never know exactly how she met her end.

  But as impossible as it seemed, that morning at work I got a call from Court letting me know our crazy dog was alive. A lady called after seeing her picture on Craig’s list and said she thought our dog was in her yard. Three blocks from our house.

  She lost seven pounds but other than that was absolutely fine. She did have a look in her eyes for the first few days back that seemed to say, “I’ve seen things.” And what I would give to hear her stories or to have had a GoPro on her. But although I’ll never know what she did on her two week walk about I’m sure glad my first little girl is home safe, still scared of the wind and now leashed on all outdoor visits.

My Belly and Home are Now Just a Bit Bigger

  I thought about trying to summon my inner superwoman and not miss a beat nor a Toddlerado post, but sometimes it’s best to let some things go and keep a promise to pick back up when the time is right. 
  Since my last post I’ve kept busy growing a human while we sold and bought a home. We definitely were in need of more space for the human mentioned earlier, or as we plan to call her- Cecilia Jane. All of this while ensuring our Layla is adjusting to all the change- which she has by the way- beautifully. I must admit moving to a subdivision with a neighborhood pool may have aided in the transition.  
  We’ve been in the new house a month and life has once again found a new rhythm which will all be turned upside down again in three short months when we welcome our newest member to the family. Despite pregnancy induced pre-sunset bedtimes and adventures in real-estate, we still managed to squeeze in some family fun that I still managed to photograph.
  Here’s a glimpse of what we were up to while I was on my Toddlerado hiatus, including snowball fights in RMNP, Mother’s Day snowman building, cycling tutorials, discovering the best part of making cookies and welcoming new friends to the world.
  I’m looking forward to the Toddlerado posts to come and thanks for holding tight while I simplified things while expanding our family and home.

 

 

Bounce With Me

There are some ‘kid things’ I’ve managed to avoid so far as a parent but in the end I know are inevitable. Trips to Chuck E. Cheese’s, Fort Fun and other headache inducing establishments are sure to be in my future.

  And for good reason. Kids love them. I loved them. For me it was Showbiz Pizza Place. Creepy animatronic band, ski ball and a ball pit that seemed bottomless.  I have no memory of the pizza- it’s all gorilla keyboardists and mouse cheerleaders in my mind.
 (Side note: you can find some pretty hilarious videos on YouTube of the ol' Showbiz band playing today's hits if you are feeling a little nostalgic after reading this.)

  Recently we attended a birthday party at Jumpin’ in Loveland. Although the visions of wild children running a muck, screaming and colliding into one another- fueled by cake and ice cream- were a little nerve racking, we knew it’d be fun for the kid. And with the weather we've had this winter, it was nice just to get out of the house.

  We entered and assessed our situation, taking a minute to adjust to the noise level. Yes, kids were in fact running around crawling over each other to get in and out of bounce houses and shoving each other as they made their way up to the inflatable slides. But my hesitant three year old hid behind my legs. We walked around, checking out our bouncing options and finally decided on a half empty one since it was clear I’d be joining her.
  I had never been in a bounce house. When I was a kid we braved actual trampolines- jumping high without nets- some kids even breaking bones. Hardcore.

  It is fun to jump and eventually Layla thought so too. She bounced and fell and struggled to get up with the same amount of grace as her mother, which is none.

 She giggled and played and eventually didn’t need a co-bouncer. And after cake (the coolest cake I've ever seen made by a friend of the parents of the birthday girl) and a trip down the slide, it was time to go. Of course she cried as we put on her shoes but was of course asleep within five minutes of leaving the parking lot.

  Not something I’d want to do every weekend but the giggles are always worth a little parental sacrifice. And bounce houses are not nearly as cringe worthy as those ball pits, which I hear are a thing of the past at Chuck E. Cheese's, and I'd guess a bounce house is a fair amount safer than trampolines.