Libbie, Three-and-a-Half.

Posted on March 29, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

Yesterday I was fairly certain I’d rather be the animal-feces cleaner at the zoo than have to keep parenting.

Every word out of Libbie’s mouth was meant to provoke me, from the moment she got up until at least after David went to bed.

So many weeks of pushing limits. So much discipline doled out: time-outs, toys and privileges taken away, even spankings. And yet she keeps pushing, shoving, her momma teetering over the edge of a complete breakdown.

It’s not the big things that are the worst (although slapping her daddy this weekend was brutal; and had it been me she’d hit, I might have gone ballistic). It’s each tiny defiance piling up, stack after stack on top of my bruised-momma-heart. It’s that she flat-out ignores what I say. It’s how she twists her brother’s hand until it hurts and then doesn’t understand why it gets her in trouble. It’s licking me on the face while I am trying to talk to her seriously.

I am worn thin and ready to try every technique I can think of to help: cutting out food coloring. Trying to create a more calming environment at home. Playing outside as much as possible. No more TV. More one-on-one time. {I do try to do all of these things, but maybe not enough.}

What I can’t give her is what she wants: my undivided attention 33 hours a day.

I fear I’ve let something go too far, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to spend more nights crying on the couch, feeling that I’ve failed her somehow. I want to not feel hypocritical for writing a devotional when it feels like my parenting and sometimes my sanity are hanging on by a thin thread.

I kind of want to scream. So instead I write, to the general public, my online shout of frustration.

{Why yes, it IS a good thing she’s cute. And hilarious. And loves books. It’s certainly not that we don’t have good moments … they just don’t seem to outnumber the bad right now.}

Help Settle the Painting Feud, or How Trading Spaces Warped My Mind

Posted on March 13, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

My mom was obsessed with Trading Spaces.

Surely you remember the uber-famous, turn-of-the-century, decorating show on TLC? Two families would trade their homes for a week-end, each family given $1,000 and a decorator to help them re-do one room. Sprightly Paige Davis would pounce back and forth between houses, her bright smile encouraging homeowners as they glued feathers to the wall or hung a chair upside-down from the ceiling.

I imagine the homeowners prayed long in advance that they would not be given Hildi as a designer. This was one of her infamous room makeovers, where she stapled silk flowers on the bathroom wall.

Inspired, our house underwent several transformations during those early 2000s years. Our more-formal living room was the most Spaces-esque: eggplant-colored walls, a giant gilted mirror above the piano, a new couch with a dark green and purple floral pattern.

Our family room became beach-themed eventually, thanks to the large number of cruises my parents have taken.

My bedroom – at some point – was painted a golden yellow, including the ceiling, with Asian themed bedding and a Chinese lantern hanging in the corner.

It’s probably because of this history of redecoration that I cannot seem to understand my husband’s aversion to painting. It’s a simple thing, isn’t it? You move in somewhere, you paint it a color you like. When we moved into our first apartment, I insisted on painting our living room a trendy cranberry color. To this day, I still claim it’s the closest we’ve ever come to divorcing.

Mr. V seems to think my desire to paint is insane.

I think I’m normal.

I’d like to hear your two cents.

The Freight of a Thought Train

Posted on February 21, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

We’re talking, kissing, and I let out that brief sigh that lets him know to ask what’s wrong.

Without pause to ponder, I tell the truth: “I can’t stop thinking about what an awful mother I was today.”

source: Minivan Ninja

He wants me to think only of us and right now, but a woman’s mind doesn’t work like that, does it? I always recall Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti—my thoughts twirling and spinning and twisting and running together. He’s sitting in one compartment, ready for the … well, syrup, the sweet times of marriage, and I am play-by-playing every minute of the day and getting farther and farther away.

I’m having a more and more difficult time keeping my cool with a 3-year-old on the loose. If just once she would agree to anything I offered. Not ask for things she doesn’t want. Stop fake crying 60% of the day.

I’m waiting desperately for a turnaround. I know yelling doesn’t help, but I do it. I know spanking has no effect on this will-of-steel, but sometimes I do it anyway. I know what she wants is my attention and yet one more whine of “I just need you, Mommy” is enough to topple me over into near-hysteria. I might run out of the room, lock myself in the bathroom, start singing an aria just to drown out the noise.

We have days that are so good it feels like water, a fresh stream through the hard rock my heart is. I feel relief, prayers of friends, smile big, tousle hair.

And then there are times like now, when she doesn’t hear what I say and screams the same thing at me forty-three times in a row while the fake wails continue and she clings to my arm and my ears hurt.

I know … it could be worse.

I know … I should be thankful.

I know, I know, I know.

But it’s still hard.

So dear, this is what I’m thinking that I can’t put into words in a five-second span. My thoughts don’t end, they pulse like the heart and course throughout the body. What I mean when you say, “Think about this” and I say, “I can’t.”

I Can’t Hear You, I’m Buried Under a Stack of Mail.

Posted on September 19, 2011 by vanderbiltwife

source: maggiejumps

I think the act of pile-making must be hereditary. That, or I just want to blame it on someone else. (Hi, Mom. It’s not your fault.)

Some people clean: really clean. Everything has a place. And the rest of us, we pile.

Stacks of paid bills go on top of the filing cabinet (or, in our case, box of folders next to the computer). Mail is placed on any clear and flat surface. Right now, clean clothes are stacked because I don’t know where my hangers are in the midst of moving. Unopened boxes act as a resting place for my coffee cup, camera, and a choir CD. I compulsively make and destroy piles on my dresser until there is no space left for useful things, like a hairbrush or framed photo.

I don’t know whether piling is a learned behavior or not, but it is something I recall as a constant in my childhood and it’s remained a constant in my grown-up life.

I hate piles.

Do you have a method for getting things back to where they belong? (Or making a place? Or tossing?) I don’t want my kids to grow up to be pile-makers, too, so I think it’s just about time to nip this one in the bud.

Just let me set my cup down on that stack of books first …

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Top Ten Tuesday: My Baby Hates Sleep

Posted on April 25, 2011 by vanderbiltwife

David is an angel baby. He is smiley, happy, cooey, albeit pretty drooly. He nurses happily, happily spits up, and giggles as he gets his clothes changed.

But he hates to sleep.

At four months, the longest he has ever slept is 6 hours. And that is very rare. I am so tired I feel like I am sleepwalking a lot of the time. It is hard to have an infant and a toddler. HARD!

David is a tummy sleeper; he will only sleep about 15 minutes on his back and then wake up and cry about it. For the past three weeks, since he learned to turn from belly to back, he will roll over every 2-3 hours all night long, and then wake up and cry. He can’t roll from back to belly.

Again … it’s a good thing he’s usually happy and insanely cute.

Mostly in jest, here are 10 ways I have considered getting David to sleep longer.

1. Duct taping him laying on his tummy, as suggested on my Facebook Fan Page.

2. Swaddling. SwaddleMe? Nope. Miracle Blanket? Not a chance. He will wriggle until he is free or scream bloody murder until released from the restrictive cocoon. (If anyone would like to purchase an open but very much unused Miracle Blanket from me, shoot me an email. jessie at vanderbiltwife dot com.)

3. Co-sleeping. I like co-sleeping in theory. But in practice, I have a really hard time sleeping if there is a baby in the bed because I roll around a lot. I cannot get comfortable and therefore am getting even less sleep than I was before. We often end up co-sleeping some of the night if I fall asleep while nursing. The rest of the time he is still in a pack-and-play right by my side of the bed.

4. Just swaddling on the bottom half so he can’t roll over. We tried this. It worked for two nights, and then he figured it out. Dang it!

5. Putting him in his crib in another room because maybe he would sleep better if he couldn’t hear us Mr. V snoring or our moving around. Wrong. I have tried this a few nights but I just get frustrated walking the entire length of our ranch house back and forth a million times. If he’s going to sleep the same in the pack and play or in his crib, I’d rather have him where I don’t have to get out of bed.

6. Permanently attaching him to my chest. At least he’s quiet then.

7. Duct taping the pacifier to his mouth. See: #1, also: child abuse. David knows the paci puts him to sleep, so he rips it out of his mouth constantly.

8. Blanket sleepers. It is already 85 during the day here. I don’t want him to sweat and be miserable, not to mention I probably don’t need another SIDS risk.

9. Nursing every hour during the day in the hopes he wouldn’t get hungry at night. I would honestly do this if I thought it would help. But he’s not going to eat if he’s not hungry, so the chances he would do it are slim to none.

10. Trying to enjoy babyhood and remembering this too shall pass.

Do you have any super tips for me? Cause I have to go … he’s awake. AGAIN. (No, he doesn’t like to nap either.)

Please don’t leave chastising comments about all the reasons I shouldn’t co-sleep, have him tummy sleep, etc. I have a pediatrician to tell me those things and I know the risks.

Added to Top Ten Tuesday at OhAmanda.

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Planning for an Easter Meal

Posted on April 20, 2011 by vanderbiltwife

I am kind of disturbed that I don’t have a plan for our Easter dinner yet. It’s very unlike me! I’m considering just going to the farmer’s market tomorrow and seeing what jumps out at me. I always, always make a ham, but we’re probably just going to have 4 (and Libbie) to feed so it seems ridiculous to buy a whole big ham.

Here are some suggestions I got on Twitter:

Tara’s egg solution? The exact same thing I tried last week when I made hard-boiled eggs for our cross mosaic. For some reason I am incapable of making truly hard-boiled eggs. The ones for our mosaic were 100% soft-boiled. Ew.

Anyway … what would you make for a nice Easter dinner for 4 + a toddler?

Life with Libbie

Posted on February 18, 2011 by vanderbiltwife

Here’s a little sample of what life with Libbie has been like lately.

Yesterday, she dumped Italian seasoning on the floor, smeared diaper cream on her stomach, took a knife off the counter, and decided one of her dolls was named Rebecca–then Abby–then finally Tessa (after her cousin, Tricia‘s daughter).

Today, she smeared glue stick on the couch, crumpled up my coupons, learned how to stand on a chair to reach things that are higher (while I was on the phone she figured this one out), ran into the BUSY street in front of our house, found some Mylicon drops in an old diaper bag and tried to open them to give to her baby (yeah, that one is definitely a Mommy OOPS!), and … was a perfect angel for a babysitter for a few hours. Of course.

At 18 months she was well-versed in the “no” part of the terrible 2s, as well as tantrums and disobeying. But it seems we have reached the true peak of the age, probably brought on by a little baby rivalry.

My friends say 3 is worse. I am scared.

I miss being just the two of us. I hate that she wants to crawl in my lap and David is already there and I have to choose him over her because, well, he eats from my body and she doesn’t.

I don’t want to rush time, because there are things about this age that are so darn cute I can’t stand it. But my patience is worn thin with lack of sleep, crying, hormones.

Life with two is things I never dreamed it would be. For more, please check out my monthly ParentLife post – it’s one of the more truthful things I’ve written in a while.

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With a Toddler, Everything’s a Saga.

Posted on April 1, 2010 by vanderbiltwife

Near-daily, I try to convince myself that my daughter is not a tyrant, she is just a toddler. I’ve never parented a toddler before, so I have difficulty in knowing whether this is true or not. But as we wade through the challenges I have to think it’s normal and not that I should be preparing for 17 more years of extreme strong will and tantrums.

One of the biggest issues we have is food. When Libbie was starting solids, she would eat just about anything—green beans, peaches, cantaloupe, watermelon, apricots, mango, sweet potatoes—no fruit or vegetable was safe from her eager mouth. Then, as we tried to start some other foods, Libbie began showing preference–also known as, she would not open her stubborn little mouth for anything she didn’t want.

Gradually, Libbie began to detest all foods, until she would pretty much only eat bread, bananas, applesauce, and cheese. Fun, huh? I felt like I needed to buy stock in Chiquita and Kraft.

Every once in awhile, we’d have a break-through. She’d eat tortellini and chicken sausage with gusto, and I’d feel hopeful that soon she’d eat anything! Everything! Brussels sprouts! Caprese salad! I get a little carried away.

I am of the firm opinion that we shouldn’t have to cook different meals for our kids. So I keep trying. I put in front of her whatever we’re eating for dinner. Some days she won’t even try it. (That’s what infuriates me. I would be OK if she didn’t like it, but not trying it…grrrr.) Some days she’ll eat off a plate or only with a spoon. Some days she’ll eat from her daddy’s plate but not from mine.

I don’t mind not being scheduled or orderly, but this going back-and-forth, no predictable eating pattern whatsoever drives me MAD!!

A couple weeks ago I thought we were making good progress. She was sampling much of what we ate and liking it! And then, a week ago, it seemed like we were back to square one. Only with no bananas.

Please tell me, is this normal? And do you have any suggestions for making sure she eats something nutritious every once in awhile?
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Addiction

Posted on November 17, 2009 by vanderbiltwife

My little girl

is an extreme

pacifier

junky.

At just a few months old, my mom and I would joke that she needed to join Pacifiers Anonymous.

Her Nuk. Her Binky. Her Paci. Her “Babbo.”

She neeeeeds it.

She’s doing better about going without it during the day. But still, once it’s in her sight, there’s no coming between her and sucking satisfaction.

How long do I let this go on before seeking intervention?

Sell My House

Posted on October 5, 2009 by vanderbiltwife

My friend Meredith is coming over tonight to help stage our house. We have, of course, moved out tons of furniture to Chattanooga trying desperately to make it look bigger. But I will be the first to admit I have very little decorating sense. If I could pay The Nester to come fix my house, I totally would. But unfortunately that would involve money, since I take it she couldn’t just work with the two Pier One baskets I have.

Y’all want to chime in with your two cents? I really want to paint our rocker kelly green to cheer up the front. What do you think? (I have a quart of kelly green paint from some company who gave it away online.)

[Not comfortable putting a picture of front of house here. But we have a double Adirondack glider sort of like this in a cherry-ish wood. Front of house is brick with dark green shutters.]

I know the computer in the living room is taking up space, but y’all, I cannot live alone without my computer! How would I blog? How would I Tweet? I might have to clean or watch TV or something? And I don’t have a laptop (since the crappy Gateway we had died 2 weeks after its 1-year warranty was up.)

I love the kitchen! Does it need something else?

Our bedroom is the worst room in the house. I hope Meredith is coming armed with color. I had a duvet cover that matched the pillow shams, but I hate how duvets slip and slide inside the cover. This room needs help, but too late now for us. Maybe in the next place…