Are we there yet?

Well, we did it. With heaps of help from our families, we survived three consecutive weeks of The Barbarian being gone during the workweek. I'm pretty sure the last time he had three weeks of travel in a row, I said we'd never do that again, but alas. Shit happens. 

The kids were sick the second week, OF COURSE, because it is apparently our lot to deal with illness while he's away. And not just the sniffles, mind you, but an up all night with hacking coughing fits and difficulty breathing, sitting up in bed or rocking, rocking, rocking kind of illness. The only saving grace there was that The Barbarian and I managed to avoid the plague this time, so, you know, that was nice. 

Oh, and we sold our house. During that three-week period. Meaning on top of all the normal stress of being sans partner, I was busting my ass getting the house ready to show, fielding calls and texts from interested parties and scheduling said showings, cleaning the house top to bottom every day, and vacating the house as much as possible. Yeah. 

...

Yeah. 

But we did it. 10 days on the market and we accepted an offer from a lovely young couple who are first-time homebuyers and really, really love the house and want to make it a home in which to raise a family. Being that our house needs some work and was priced to reflect that, we could have easily ended up with only offers from investors looking to flip it or people looking to do the minimal required work and rent it out. And we didn't want that. Well, I didn't want that. I think The Barbarian probably would have been happy to get more money for it, especially a cash offer, which is totally understandable. But passing it on to another young family who will cherish it and raise babies in it and be good neighbours and generally keep the love train moving forward was really important to me. I'm sappy like that.

And we got pretty damn lucky in the fact that the couple has agreed to allow us to rent back for up to two months once we close escrow because the somewhat majorly unsettling truth is that we have nowhere to go. 

HAHA.

Yeah.

I'm telling you, the whole contingency dance of selling one house and buying another at the same time is kind of the dickens. There's just no easy way to do it. If you find a house to buy first, you're stuck needing to secure alternate financing, and while they offer things like bridge loans so you can finance something new before selling your current house, ummmmmmmmm, yeah, no. Fuck that. It essentially means carrying two loans on two houses for however long, and you end up paying closing costs twice in some instances, and it's basically just a gigantic nightmare. Yet until you officially close escrow on your current house, you must make contingent offers on anything you want to buy, and most people don't want to deal with that. And while I get why that is and all... COME ON, PEOPLE. What the hell are we supposed to do? Even with a buyer in place for ours already, who the fuck knows what could happen between now and the close of escrow, so it's not like it's a done deal in any sense of the phrase, and that uncertainty is seriously hampering our efforts. 

The other issue we're facing is that the market is fucking crazy right now. Again. Because apparently it's also our lot to buy in a seller's market. Which was great for this end of the equation, of course, but the competition in our price-range is fierce right now. The job market has recovered enough to allow more people to afford to buy, yet there just isn't enough inventory to support the demand. So we're back in a situation of multiple offers, cash offers, bidding wars, people offering tens of thousands above asking, writing intro letters and sending family pictures in an attempt to pull on some heartstrings and sell ourselves to sellers. The whole process is unbelievably obnoxious. 

And while we could primarily focus on the upper end of our price-range and maybe avoid some of that competition, I just can't bring myself to do that if we can reasonably avoid it. Because playing the real estate game for people like us (i.e. those who do not come from money) is a bit like playing poker, in my opinion, wherein you must have the capital to buy in in the first place. If you can find that capital upfront and then play your cards right, you will be able to just roll everything you make into a new game (also known as a house in this example). And that's exactly what we got lucky enough to do. We scrounged up a down payment, bought at a really good time, waited for the market to pick back up, and we'll end up with a healthy stack of cash once we close escrow. Ideally we'd love to find something that's been upgraded and remodeled and is all shiny and pretty, but the reality is that having that cash upfront means we can buy something much cheaper and fix it up ourselves, lowering the amount we need to finance and, therefore, lowering our mortgage payments going forward. Sound financial planning, right? But that means we're once again in heavy competition for more "affordable" houses, which I put in quotes, of course, because this is California and what's considered "affordable" here is a hugely distasteful and unfunny joke.

So that's where this post finds us. One rejected offer down and who knows how many to go. The last time we did this, we wrote a dozen or more offers before getting this house, and while we're in a better position overall this time, I'm already discouraged and ridiculously stressed and completely fucking over it. 

Yay playing grownups.

So stay tuned for upcoming installments of Where in the World Will We Fucking Live Next, as it's sure to be a gas. 

Because there's nothing more entertaining than watching someone lose their last few shreds of sanity obsessively checking MLS every hour, right? 

Mmmhmm. That's what I thought.       

Onwards and upwards

Well, that's it. Our house is officially on the market. And I am celebrating by enjoying a pint (or several) of IPA and some Irish nachos (did you know this is a thing??) by my lonesome at our favourite brewery downtown. And after the week I've had, let me tell you--this is perfection.

So, in case you are unaware, selling a house is kind of the dickens. And by "kind of," I mean T-O-T-A-L-L-Y. And I'm not sure what mechanism allows the hyphens to give extra emphasis to an already-all caps word, but apparently they do, and really, extra emphasis is exactly what we're going for here.

We bought this house, our first, in 2009, when the market was crazy, crazy, crazy in the throes of the Great Recession. That whole process was a nine-month-long nightmare in itself, but we bought our sweet 1940's bungalow as the classic "starter home," and expected to be there five or so years. It's turned out to be a fantastic investment for us, and here we are, a little more than five years later, and we're ready to move on. But that's apparently not just a decision you make and then get on with in our situation, mostly because our house falls into the "needs TLC" category. And it does. We have put a lot of work into the house, but it had little to no updating when we purchased it (it was a trust sale--the family had bought it two years after it was built and lived, raised a family, and died in the house), and needs some bigger work done that we're just not willing to take on at this point. We love, love, love our little house, but it's on a busy road (to which we lost a kitty last summer and had a dog miraculously survive mostly unscathed after getting hit by a car shortly after moving in), and only has one bathroom, which is kind of (REALLY) a bummer after a while. So, per our agent's recommendation, we busted our asses the past couple of weeks to add some nice touches to make it even more attractive than it already is (seriously, it's adorable and charming--original hardwood floors, crown moulding, gorgeous light, large rooms for the size of the house, beautiful fireplace and mantel, etc.) to offset a bit the fact that it does need some work (it's structurally sound, but needs a new roof and major drainage on the property, etc.).

SO. Why am I so happy to be completely alone, being served by others as I celebrate? Because this past week was the really critical week of work...and just happened to be week one of THREE IN A ROW that The Barbarian is gone ALL FUCKING WEEK. So, yeah. I cleaned and sanded and painted and performed other random nonsense ALL damn week--with the tremendous help of both families, of course, because they are AWESOME where families are concerned--and came scary close to losing my mind, if we're supporting honesty here. In case I haven't mentioned this before, I rely on The Barbarian A LOT for emotional and mental balance and serenity, so taking this all on with him thousands of miles away, even WITH the help of our families, was extraordinarily challenging for me.

And our poor tiny humans just got the brunt of it. Seriously. It's been bad. It's been so bad that they, in their very honest toddler way, announced shortly before The Barbarian arrived home yesterday that they wanted to just hang out with Daddy, and that I specifically was NOT invited. OUCH. And this morning they were chatting to each other saying they "have so much to do," something I've been, not always patiently or respectfully, telling them all week. Ugh. I escaped into the spare room last night to decompress after dinner while The Barbarian did bedtime, and was informed later, upon inquiring, that the wee folk didn't ask about me at all. They were perfectly content to just be with Daddy and forget I was even there. And I don't blame them. Sigh.

But we did it. We busted our asses and got the house listed. And now for the really fun part. Now we essentially have to make the entire family, including dogs, scarce for the bulk of the day on weekends and basically at a moment's notice during the week. Oh, fucking joy. This will go on for about a week and a half before we review offers, assuming we have offers to review. But the nice thing is that inventory is low in our area right now and the number of buyers is continuing to increase as the job market does. Many of the houses I'm seeing in our range are going within a week, and that would just be fucking phenomenal. Except...

Except for the fact that we are doing that most ridiculous of dances that is the contingency dash, where we attempt to sell and buy a house simultaneously. Try to secure a new house first and you end up needing alternate financing and essentially an entire second loan and mortgage for the crossover period. But secure a buyer for your current house first and you run the risk of having nowhere to go. And I refuse to rent during the interim with wee folk in the mix. This will be an tremendous change for them as it is. I refuse to move them and then move them again a few months later. So while we hope ours goes quickly, we're also scrambling to find a new home. And being that inventory is low and buyers are aplenty, that bodes well for the first part, but not at all for the second.

But they tell me this sort of thing works out all the time. I think they're all full of shit, but we'll see.

So fingers crossed. Both sets. One for an awesome buyer for our house, and one for an awesome new home for us.

All at the same time.

Like magic.    

Oops...

I read an article the other day by someone I very much respect in the world of parenting philosophies, and it was one of those experiences where you don't get very far into the text before you're completely weirded out by the fact that the article seems to have been written precisely for you.

In this case, the basic idea of the article was that if your toddler is whining or fussing or hitting or not cooperating or just generally being a shit, it's because they feel completely out of control after being given far too much freedom, choice, and control, and are desperately asking you to set some limits in the only way they know how. Sounds counterintuitive in a way, but I absolutely know intellectually that it's true, as evidenced by the fact that I have told parents that same thing countless times and acted on that knowledge as a nanny on a daily basis for many years. Yet I read these words and felt my stomach drop. Because poopsicles. This is what's happening in our family right now.

As I have mentioned before, The Barbarian and I are extremely laid back when it comes to most things, so from day one of being parents, we weren't really concerned with routines and schedules and rules and all those things it seems many think we should be concerned with as parents. We're just not those people. And any time we attempted to create a routine or stick to a schedule, it lasted maybe a day or two before we just couldn't really hack it anymore. It felt bizarre and forced and foreign to us. And we're still mostly totally good with our decisions to allow them to create their own schedules in terms of sleeping and eating, not forcing them to share or finish all the food we give them, allowing them to physically explore their environment beyond what others considered "safe," etc. They are by all accounts loving, good-natured, smart, empathetic toddlers and we are ridiculously proud to be their parents.

Yet all of a sudden, they're not babies anymore. And while still considered toddlers, they're technically referred to as preschoolers now, and the changes in them since their second birthday in August are just phenomenal. But equally as phenomenal is how challenging EVERY SINGLE ASPECT of their daily life has suddenly become. They are extraordinarily opinionated about what they want/like and don't want/don't like, and the tiniest, often seemingly at random thing will set off an inordinately explosive response, leaving us simply trying to figure out what in the world just happened. And you know what? I hate listening to my kids cry. I also hate listening to them whine or fuss in general. So you know what I finally realized I've been doing when this happens?

I GIVE IN.

ME. I DO THAT.

I told you we'd watch one more show and then turn the TV off but now you're sobbing because you really, really, really want to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse: Road Rally? Well, fuck it, then. Watch away.

We asked if anyone needed a before bed snack before coming into the bedroom for the night and you said no but now you're desperate for some apple slices? Well, let's get those apple slices, and pronto.

I reminded you it was completely your choice whether to eat dinner or not but that I wasn't going to make you anything separate, however, now you're DYING for a peanut butter and jam sandwich? Let me get right on that.

See the problem? I literally utter the words, "Fine, just stop fussing" to the wee folk and, "Just do it--I don't want to listen to them fuss" to The Barbarian and others on a regular basis. It's absurd. But it took reading that article before I even officially, consciously realized I was doing it. The Barbarian's reaction when I told him my epiphany was just a nod and a look, a compassionate but borderline exasperated one that silently asked, "And you're just now noticing this...?"

And the answer is a resounding YES--despite the fact that this has been going on for months. It is so, so, SO ridiculously easy to fall into parenting patterns without realizing it until the negative effects become impossible to ignore. And that, friends, is where we are, with two toddlers who have been given far too much control over their lives and who are desperate for loving and respectful limits, structure, and known expectations. I am trying to be gentle with myself about this reality, though, as the author of the article stated that the parents she sees for whom setting limits is the most challenging are the ones who are the most sensitive, empathetic, and in-tune with their children's emotions. So good intentions, not so good outcome. It happens.

But you know what the really neat thing about parenting and life in general is? Every moment, every hour, every day is a chance to start over, start new, start focusing and implementing goals and good intentions.

So I'm gonna do that. Because my gods. Out of control toddlers are out of control. And everyone's sanity is suffering.

And preserving sanity should be a priority, no?

Good. I think so, too.

Speed posting

Okay, trying something new here. Speed posting. I'm thinking 30min or less to write, not a ton of revision and editing, stream of consciousness style. But fear not! You are not in any way off the hook for the usual rambling novels I am somewhat known for, but I envision more actual posts reaching you this way when I don't have the time or wherewithal to finish something longer and better thought out and wittier and whatever. Because, DAMN. The ratio of finished and published posts to drafts in the queue is fucking embarrassing. Egads.

So here we are! 2015! Exciting, right?! Except that ours has started off ridiculously and obnoxiously shittily, but I am determined to not let it colour anything going forward. I am done feeling sorry for myself, okay? The coughs and runny noses and bronchitis and asthma and fevers and ER visits and solo parenting and return of the stupid diverticulitis can SUCK A DICK. And die of gonorrhea and rot in hell while they're at it.

Another thing I'm doing away with this year is the weird place I've found myself in recently wherein I give a crap what others think of me. I mean, yes, we all do and it's not necessarily always a bad thing, but it's somewhat unlike me and I've allowed it to take over, especially in the world of social media. I constantly find myself choosing not to "like" something or post something or make a certain comment so as to preserve various people's opinion of me or not upset them, and really, what the actual fuck? Why they hell am I doing that?? I have theories that I'll get into at some point, but I have come across a few quotes recently that have made me stop and realize I have been struggling to express myself recently within the bounds of who and what I assume others think I am. But how ludicrous is that? I'll tell you how ludicrous: very, very ludicrous. That's how.

So fuck it. Because the basic fact is that I am a liberal, humanist/atheist, pro-science, nature-loving, knowledge-seeking, geeky, nerdy, depressive/anxious, arrogant potty-mouth mama with the sense of humour of a 9-year-old boy.

And if you don't like it, you can get the fuck out. (Bonus points if you know the next line.)

So there you have it. We have lots and lots and lots of changes coming up--preschool, big kid beds, selling our house, buying a new one, etc., etc. And throughout it all, I will be continuing my recent quest to shift us to a more minimalist approach to possessions, and will strive to continue altering habits, resulting in a more environmentally-sustainable lifestyle in general.

Okay, time's up!

Onwards and upwards, bitches!    

Just shut up already

I ran across a quote the other day that made me really stop and think, and I found myself coming back to it over and over again for days afterwards.

"Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them."

-James A. Baldwin

I know absolutely nothing about James A. Baldwin, but after reading this quote, finding out more is on my (never-ending) list of things to do, for the simple, effective wisdom contained within this quote is astounding. 

I like to talk. A lot. I've been told many times by friends and family that one of their favourite pastimes is to simply get me a bit (lot?) intoxicated and then sit back and listen to my (never-ending) musings, rants, whathaveyous. It's quite flattering, I must say, because truly, it's one of my favourite pastimes as well. 

But children don't want to listen to that shit. Endlessly lecturing children on the rights and wrongs and acceptables and unacceptables of life is a surefire way to encourage them to tune you out completely. But socializing my children is my job. In addition to the basics of care and providing endless love and cuddles, my job is to teach them the appropriate way to act and interact in every situation. And they aren't lessons that get taught, reviewed, tested and then forgotten. They are lessons that are integral to almost every single waking moment of our day. The repetition is endless. ENDLESS. With two toddlers, it's actually BEYOND endless. And I have zero clue what resides beyond endless, but it's definitely that.

And the stakes and intensity are increasing by the day. Two, as all parents know, is an entirely different beast than the baby years that precede it. Their language and understanding and creativity and experimentation are growing by leaps and bounds every single day. It is absolutely awe-inspiring to watch. But that also means the challenges are growing by the day as well, and I have found myself falling into the "do as I say, not as I do" trap more and more often. 

I will share a truth with you: I am not perfect. I know, I know. But you must get used to disappointment around here. And so that means that my interactions with my children are not always perfect. Sometimes they're downright absurd when I stop and really think about them. For instance, The Goblin Queen gets pretty bent out of shape about, well, about a lot of things, but the one that's REALLY getting to me these days is that she loses it when I have to go to the bathroom. She. Can't. Handle. It. Even if I pick her up and bring her with me and let her hang out and apply lotion or powder or line my tampons up on the edge of the tub or whatever suits her fancy that day, she just freaks and generally stands in front of me crying while trying to crawl into my lap (I finally put the kibosh on her sitting in my lap while on the toilet recently--boundaries, people, boundaries). And do you know how fucking annoying it is to have a very small person, and sometimes two very small people, lose their minds every single time you announce you have to use the facilities? Let me assure you, IT'S VERY FUCKING ANNOYING. So I, naturally, GET ANNOYED and I find myself freaking out and telling her to just CALM DOWN. And the irony of telling someone to calm down while you are yourself freaking out is really just too much, no? 

But the reality is that getting on your high horse and lecturing someone about appropriate behaviour is infinitely easier than modeling said behaviour--yet worlds less effective, and more work in the end, as you find yourself having the same one-sided conversation again and again...and again. And while modeling the behaviours we want to foster in our children is absolutely challenging and requires focus and patience, it is perhaps a tad easier than it may at first glance seem because of one simple fact: Our children are watching and listening and processing everything we do and say, all the time, in a (never-ending) insatiable quest to learn, learn, learn. So in a way, modeling things we want to see in our children is a passive endeavour. We're already doing it--whether it's having the desired effect is the question.

Having read that quote a week or so ago, I became more conscious of some behaviours already present in TGQ especially that come directly from The Barbarian and me without our ever having focused on making them a lesson, and it's definitely a mixed bag. The one that snapped me back to reality was witnessing her twice now bite her nails. SHIT. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I have battled with nail-biting my entire life, and although the practice and its effects have lessened considerably over the years (I actually have nails and intact skin around them now), I do absolutely still bite my nails. It's more of a grooming style at this point, though. The Barbarian has taken the place of my father in admonishing me to just cut the damn thing and be done with it, but when I have a nail splitting, I bite it off. It's infinitely quicker and more convenient. I mean, ostensibly, that's what teeth are for, right? They're tools. Just as fingers are tools to pick boogers. I'm pretty sure we're born with the equipment needed for basic self-care. We wouldn't have gotten very far as a species if we found ourselves otherwise. BUT. Having said that, biting nails just for the sake of biting them is a habit I don't really want to encourage in my children, especially not at two years old. So being aware of and changing that habit has now been added to my (never-ending) list of things to do.

But the other behaviour we've noticed in TGQ in the past few days has really blown me away. We're proponents of the philosophy that does not encourage children to apologize, as they simply just don't understand the concept and empathy cannot be forcibly taught that way. It also often creates a reality for children where saying "sorry," regardless of whether there's actual meaning and sincerity behind it, gives them an automatic pass and excuses the behaviour (kind of like confession, no?). I witnessed this countless times as a nanny, children doing something they knew was solidly in the asshole category and then just tossing out an obnoxious, flippant "sorry," and moving on. It always riled me, even though I fell into the pattern of demanding sorries from my charges as well. I thought it was just what you did. 

But, turns out, it's not "just what you do," so we consciously choose to not do it--which makes the fact that TGQ has started apologizing, with a downcast look and obvious sincerity at appropriate times that much more amazing. The first time it happened, I was bringing their lunch (or dinner...the details of life often escape me these days) to the table, and as I walked behind her chair to set King Toad Agooga's plate down, she pulled her chair back so she could climb in, and toe and chair leg made an undeniably painful acquaintance. I made some noise appropriate to the situation and bent over cringing for a few seconds. The Barbarian asked what had happened, so I said briefly that she moved her chair just as I was walking past and I stubbed my toe, at which point I heard a very soft, "I'm sorry, Mama." I looked over and she was sitting in her chair, slumping a bit with her chin on her chest, looking downright dejected. I nearly started crying. I hadn't said anything directly to her, nor said more about it to The Barbarian than just relaying the simple facts, but it was enough for her to ascertain that her action caused me pain--and she genuinely felt terrible about it. So terrible, in fact, that she uttered a phrase we've never, ever asked her to say, but one that she has heard countless times from us.

The Barbarian and I are both extremely compassionate people, and we have very big emotions and we work very hard on acknowledging and accepting each other's feelings and communicating in a compassionate way about everything. So it's not uncommon to hear us saying we're sorry to each other for inadvertently hurting the other's feelings or because something bad or sad happened to the other that day or for various other reasons. But it doesn't stop there. We also apologize to and commiserate with our children on a regular basis. We say we're sorry when we acknowledge that they would rather stay up and play instead of have a nap, or continue playing outside when it's time to come in for dinner. We tell them we're sorry when one of them hurts themselves or when one of them hurts the other. And we tell them we're sorry when we fuck up, when we misunderstand what they're trying to tell us, or accidentally hurt them, or get frustrated and angry and lose our patience. It's just part of who we are, and so, inadvertently, without any effort on our part to translate it into a teachable lesson for them, it's become part of who they are as well. And that's fucking awesome.

I think of these as passive or natural lessons in a sense, ones that aren't forcibly or formally taught. And, just like natural consequences versus wholly unrelated ones pressed upon a child from someone else, they are, without a doubt, the most effective lessons. 

So. We are clearly doing some things right in the modeling department, but as the day to day challenges of raising two toddlers become more and more, er, challenging, becoming more conscious of how our actions, reactions, and interactions, no matter how small, elicit the same in our children--and how those lessons are infinitely more effective than the ones that all too easily pour from our mouths--has now officially been added to my (never-ending) list of things to do. 

Less talking, more modeling.

And this one's going at the top.              

Fancy meeting you here

Because it's really been a while. Like, an embarrassingly long time. Where on earth have you been?

Oh, wait. That's your question, isn't it?

And the answer is, right here. Just not, er, here, I suppose. But the frequency of our meetups may, in fact, change in the very near future (like, nowish) because of what just went down in my house.

Are you ready?

BOTH OF MY CHILDREN JUST FELL ASLEEP ON THEIR OWN FOR NAP.

Okay, right? RIGHT? That just happened. It's only taken twenty-five and a half months, but it did, indeed, happen.

And it happened because I just cannot lie down with them for nap anymore. And although I've said that roughly 852 times previous to this, I mean it this time. We have, as I think you know, tried this in the past, but it was a horrific experience for all, so it never lasted. And we always did an all-or-nothing approach, meaning they needed to fall asleep on their own for both nap and bedtime. But because it's always such a disaster, we end up going back to our usual routine and I lie there for several hours every day, both loving the closeness and cuddles and cursing the whole damn affair.

This time, however, I decided it might be easier to start with just nap, since the stakes seem so much lower for everyone compared to bedtime. It's been about a week now, barring the last two days I actually did lie down with them for various reasons (more on that later...maybe), but I/we have usually given in and eventually stayed with them till they fell asleep after at least making an effort to do it on their own. But really, all that's doing is telling them we'll eventually lie down with them if they hold out long enough. So I decided today that I just wouldn't do it, no matter how long the crying and banging on doors lasted.

Being that they're two completely different people, they, of course, approach sleeping on their own in two completely different ways. The Goblin Queen, although it makes her sad and she would prefer not to, actually falls asleep fairly quickly and generally without tears when on her own. We have them separated into different rooms, which we've done in the past, but this time we have TGQ in the playroom and King Toad Agooga in the bedroom. I finally asked them who would like to go where, and this was the arrangement they chose. TGQ really likes the idea of sleeping with Lula, their ginormous stuffed dog, who resides in the playroom. So the little crib mattress is in one corner on the floor with Lula lying next to it to make a little cozy spot between her and the wall. TGQ lies down and snuggles with Lula and I cover her and (part of...did I mention she's extremely large?) Lula with my old baby blanket, TGQ's preferred nap blanket (my heart!), and I don't hear a peep out of her again. Until she's been out for 45 minutes, of course. 45 minutes. Every damn time. Regardless of whether she's alone or sleeping with someone, her little internal sleep clock wakes her up after 45 minutes of napping, and she's generally mostly still asleep and totally confused at that point, and often very upset. However, she'll almost always go back down in very short order if one of us goes to her and sits with her and hums our lullaby, a slowed down version of Teddy Bears' Picnic (The Barbarian made up several versus of personalized lyrics when they were newborns, but we just hum at this point). And she'll usually be out for another 45 minutes or so at that point, so all in all, not too shabby.

But, as I think I've mentioned before, the idea of falling asleep on his own is just unfathomable to KTA, and he gets so, SO upset. When we've tried this in the past, he easily stayed up sobbing for an hour or two and we just couldn't handle it after a while. His crying is just SO SAD! So for the bulk of the past week, I've waited as long as I could and then given in and stayed with him till he fell asleep, sneaking out afterwards. But I think I was bolstered today by the fact that he actually didn't start crying right away when I left, which I took to be a positive development. I checked in on him every 5-10 minutes, tucking him back in and telling him I would be right in the other room folding laundry while he slept (only part of that ended being true, of course, but he'll never know). After what ended up being the last check-in, TGQ hit her 45min mark, and when I came back out of the playroom, he had stopped crying. I peeked through the hole where the doorknob should be (don't ask) and saw that he was still in bed and had his arms up over his face, as he sometimes does while falling asleep, so I took that as a good sign. And it was--I peeked in a few minutes later and he was totally out. YIPPEE! I think it took an hour or so, but it was much less traumatic than previous attempts in general, and in the end, he did it on his own--and that's HUGE.

And did I mention it's only been a week and part of that time, I caved and slept with them? I really didn't expect it to be this "easy," and it's really making me believe this was finally the right time to do it. It also reinforces our decision to ditch this effort previously when they just weren't ready. I really feel confident that approaching parenting--and the myriad difficult decisions that come with it--as something you do with your child, as opposed to to your child makes the most sense. Yes, I've been told that if I needed to get up and go to work in the morning, I would have sleep-trained long ago (the underlying assumption apparently being that my "job" is in some way less taxing and requires less sleep than "real" jobs), and perhaps that would have been the case. Who knows? What I do know is that respecting our children enough to allow them to tell us what they need and when they need it as early and as often as possible works for us.

And it clearly works for them. Five or so months ago, we tried this and it was a few of the most horrible weeks we've ever experienced as a family. But a week in this time around and we are well on our way to success.

And that makes me very, very happy.

For all of us.

Especially you, of course, for the increased frequency of ridiculous blathering you'll now be subject to.

You're welcome.

"Toys"

I've recently been on a quest to organize and create efficient storage arrangements around here because hot damn, do we need it. Let's just say we didn't exactly excel in the subject before we had kids and then, well, then we had kids. Two of them. At once.

Do you like italics as much as I do? Oh, good.

The room in need of wrangling into submission the most is--surprise--the playroom. Since the wee folk still sleep with us, we turned the never-really-used-as-such nursery into a playroom, and it's a delightfully sunny, cheerful, lovely room. But it's been mostly a disaster for a while now. Initially we had the bulk of their toys in the main room because that's where they were contained much of the time, but once they had free reign of the house, we thought designating an official playroom was a grand idea. But it quickly became so messy and unorganized, they didn't really want to spend any time in there. And I didn't blame them. And although they can and do drag toys all over the house, I'm definitely to the point of needing there to NOT be toys housed in every room.

When they were younger, I liked the idea of having some toys in every room and it made it easier for all of us. A basket of toys and books in the bedroom for first thing in the morning when they would wake up and hop off the bed, eager to start their day while we pretended we didn't notice they were awake so we could catch a few more minutes of sleep (gods, what happened to those days? Now if they're up, we're up--they make sure of it. SIGH.); their play kitchen in the kitchen so they could "cook" while I cooked; toys in the main room where we spend a lot of time; etc. But now it's just too much. And it's mostly too much because there's just TOO MUCH.

Seriously, where the hell did all this stuff come from? We don't even buy them much ourselves because we're mean parents like that, but all you need is a birthday, a couple of winter holidays, and a few various other holidays thrown in the mix and BAM. Toy overload.

And really, that makes it sound like we have a sea of toys in every room, which we most certainly do not. My kids have very few toys compared to some children their age and I consider that a good thing. And as their second birthday (FUUUUUUUUUU...) quickly approaches, I am attempting to preempt the collection growing significantly by reminding friends and family that gifts, especially toy gifts, are not required. Because they're not.

Allow me to illustrate why that is by sharing with you some of the things my children have most enjoyed playing with over the past couple of weeks:

-A cheap, thin, blue plastic tablecloth left over from a party we had earlier this summer. They fucking LOVE this thing. They'll lie down on the floor next to each other, pull it over themselves and just giggle to each other for like 20 minutes. I'm not even close to kidding. (Yes, I realize now typing this out that the likelihood of CPS knocking at my door has risen exponentially, but whatever. It's staying.) They also like playing follow the leader with it, each holding onto an opposing end and one essentially dragging the other around the house and yard. I also hang it over their pull-up bar, courtesy of the ever-awesome Grandpa Walrus, and they run under the bar through the tablecloth. Seriously. The possibilities are endless.

-A roll of duct tape. You know what they do with it? They roll it down the back steps. Over and over and over and over and over. And it is PERFECT for this. It has just enough give to bounce nicely but not crazily, and it's wide enough that it doesn't tip over, so it's easy for toddlers to set on edge and get going, and makes it down all the steps and beyond without fail. It also gives them an opportunity to practice taking turns, so double win.

-One of The Barbarian's glass carboys for making beer. For those of you unfamiliar with beer-making equipment, it's a very large glass bottle with a narrow neck. This they do with what you might expect--they fill it with stuff. All sorts of stuff. Chalk, wood chips, little figurines, leaves, rocks, food. They have quite the collection going currently. Getting it all out is sure to be loads of fun, but it's something they come back to again and again, they enjoy it so much. And it helps develop their fine motor skills, especially with the longer items, as they have to line them up just so to get them into the narrow neck. So again, win all around.

-Reusable grocery bags. You know, those weird like plasticized, crinkly ones? Yeah, definite favourites. They carry them around on their shoulders, they wear them with the handles looped over their necks, they put them entirely over their heads, they fill them with things and drag them around. They love them. I often don't even put them away after grocery trips because I'm lazy they love them so much. Who knew?

-Baskets, dog collars, and sarongs. Think you need to buy or make your child dress-up clothes and accessories? Think again. Mine can often be found these days with a sarong tied around their chest like a gown (I think it might be in imitation of my ever-present apron), a dog collar around their neck, and a basket on their head. Seriously, have you met my kids? They're fucking awesome.

And all of this makes me so damn happy. Kids are naturally creative, but many toys these days are not. They are meant to do one thing and one thing alone. But things found in nature, household items, recycling? Endless possibilities. Do my kids love their actual toys? Of course they do. Just try separating King Toad Agooga from his toy cars or The Goblin Queen from her Duplos. But if they didn't have any of it, they would be just fine.

That being said, there are a few things that are always appreciated, things like books, classic toys like wooden trains, building materials like blocks, larger items good for active kids and gross motor skills like mini basketball hoops, t-ball sets, trampolines, trikes, etc. So we've asked people to choose amongst those for their birthday. We're limiting ourselves to one big gift for them this year like we usually do and I am SUPER STOKED about it. Details to come, of course.

So, yeah. Toys. They're anything. And everywhere. And a very good argument can be made for not purchasing so damn many for your children.

Because plastic sheeting and duct tape make great toys for toddlers.

Don't forget.

Or call CPS.

Thanks.