I Made a Kid Cry - And It Wasn't My Kid

A couple of weekends ago we all went up to Prescott so the kiddos could see their first snow. As usual, we stayed with PopPop Doug, Carol, Liam and Jean at their house and had a great time relaxing, playing with the kids, watching movies, etc.

Fin and Greta loved their first snow experience (pictures to come soon) and their 5-yr old uncle Liam showed them how to sled like a big kid (with Mommy or Daddy, of course). Greta mostly wanted to eat the snow and we learned very quickly that we did not have appropriate snow gear for any of us when Fin's boots kept falling off and his socks and hands were soaked and cold.

After our snow adventure, we went back to the house, made dinner and relaxed. Fin and Liam were done eating before any of the adults as usual, so they were allowed to be excused with the condition that all the grown-ups be allowed to continue eating and chatting in peace. After a few minutes, Greta joined them to play.

Now, I know that Greta is only 2 and Liam will be 6 in a month, but most of the time there are very few issues about all three of the kids playing together. On this evening, Liam had some new Lego toys and was being a little possessive, which is every 5-yr old's right.

From the other room, we heard Liam yell at Greta, "No, you can't play with these Legos. These are big kid Legos! You're too little for these."

I tried to explain to Liam that Greta plays with the small Legos at our house all the time and she's really quite good with them, but I also knew he just might not want to share his new toy with her, which was okay.

A few minutes later, Greta wandered back to the table with a sad look on her face and grabbed Dave's arm, saying, "Daddy, play with me. Me baby."

Dave was still eating, but I told her I'd play with her. I grew up being the youngest and smallest kid and I worry that as Liam and Fin grow up it will be very easy for her to be left out because she's younger or because she's the girl. I had mentioned this concern over dinner earlier in the night and was quite sad to see her already being told that she was the baby and couldn't play with the "big boys".

Greta and I went into the living room and found some little people to play with. There was a castle, a knight, a king and queen, some dragons, plenty of fun for a 2-yr old and her mommy.

At one point, Greta picked up the knight and said, "Baby." Then she grabbed the queen and announced, "Mommy." She put both people into the little bed and said, "They go sleep. They nurse."

I thought this was just about the sweetest thing she could have been pretending, until she picked up the king, called him, "Daddy" and fit him into the bed with the other two toys. Then she sat back proudly and said, "Family!"

While Greta was playing this very sweet game of pretend, Liam and Fin had wandered into the living room and decided to start playing with the same toys we were using. I had no problem sharing, but when Liam blocked Greta from getting to the castle, I had to step in.

I pointed out that the boys could not tell Greta she couldn't play with them and then come take the other toys she found to play with away from her. They were free to exclude her, but it just wasn't nice to come take toys away and I wasn't going to let it happen.

I wasn't mad at the boys and I thought I was saying all of this as plainly as possible without using my mean mommy voice, but apparently I wasn't so successful.

After getting Greta set up with the castle again, I looked around and realized Liam was no longer in the room. Fin was playing happily with the Lego toys still, completely unfazed. I called to Liam and asked him to come back and play WITH us instead of taking the toys away and got no response.

I walked into the other room and found him sitting alone with a toy and crying. My heart broke.

In trying to protect one kid's feelings, I - the ADULT - had hurt another kid instead. Bad, bad grown-up.

Liam and I have never had a touchy-feely relationship. He's a very sweet kid and I like him a lot, but he's always preferred Dave (his older brother) over me and is pretty shy a lot of the time. He'll talk to me if I ask him a direct question, but in the almost 6 years that I've known him, he rarely seeks me out to talk to or play with.

When I saw him sitting there, I just started crying with him. I asked him if I could hold him and he didn't refuse when I picked him up and cradled him in my lap. He's a really tall kid, but I was quickly reminded that he's still so young. I just held him and rubbed his back while we both cried and I tried to explain to him that I NEVER meant for him to not play with us; I was just concerned about Greta because she's so little and it's so easy for the big boys to leave her out.

I apologized for hurting his feelings and assured him that I really wanted him to play with us again.

Eventually we both calmed down and he let me just snuggle him for a little while, which was really sweet. We did all play together more that night and the next day and I made sure to show him some extra affection for the rest of the trip. He's such a quiet, smart and sweet kid, it's easy to forget that he's still only 5.

I never wanted to learn a lesson at Liam's expense, but this was a pretty good reminder that my Mama Bear protection instincts for my own kids should never be unleashed full force on another kid.

Catching Up on Cuteness

Things got busy in our usual birthday/holiday/event whirlwind that starts in October and lasts through February, but I figured now was as good a time as any to try to catch up a bit.

Back in October, I realized Greta finally had enough hair to try to give her pigtails. The outcome was even cuter than I could have anticipated. Excuse the messy face ;)



Finny wanted to get in on the pigtail action and decided his made him look like a wild animal. Roar!



I love that her response to "How big is Greta Boo?" is still "Soooooo big!"



A few weeks later she let me try the pigtails again (she's not a huge fan and usually squirms while I put them in and immediately pulls them out again) but she demanded a third for her bangs that were starting to get in her eyes. When she saw herself in the mirror, she announced, "Porcupine!"

Of course, I really have to share this picture simply because it gives me a glimpse of a face I am sure I will see quite often when she's in middle and high school.


Still adorable when she's not giving me the attitude that goes with this face, isn't it?

And That's the End of That

For the past 4.5 years, I have been either pregnant, nursing or both. Since May 2005 I have had to think about everything I put in my body - food, medicine, vitamin, nutritional supplement, alcohol - and how it might affect a little person that I loved.

And now that's done. As of today, my body is my own again. Greta has weaned.

I've known this moment was coming for a while, so I've been preparing both Greta and myself for it, but it's still a bit harder than I expected it to be. I always knew I would breastfeed my babies, but I never really expected nursing to be something that became such a part of how I saw myself. It's a little weird to think that whole part of my life is just over.

My introduction to breastfeeding came with some challenges. Fin was a preemie, tongue-tied at birth, hard to keep awake long enough to nurse, tired too easily to get full feedings until he was several weeks old, etc. We had to give him formula in the NICU until I could learn how to pump, then we had to supplement with bottles of expressed breast milk until he was strong enough to nurse on his own. As he grew, he was a biter and a bit of a scratcher. We did end up having a very good nursing relationship, but our start wasn't the easiest. He nursed until about 19 months old, when I was pregnant with Greta and my milk supply vanished with the growing pregnancy.

When Greta was born, she nursed within a few minutes. We had the usual sleepy newborn challenges, but after she was a couple of weeks old, we never had any issues with nursing at all. She only ever bit me a couple of times and always by accident, never for amusement. She went through the typical growing baby stages of looking around a lot and being easily distracted, but for the most part, when she would use BabySigns to ask for "milk" or say "Nur be" (nurse please) or "Me nur" as she got older, she knew what she wanted and that was that. Her most recent request was always, "Me nur other side," regardless of which side was ever offered to her first.

So now she's 25 months old. I always planned to nurse her until her 2nd birthday if she was interested and then we'd evaluate how we were feeling about things. If the decision had been left solely up to me, I would not have pushed us toward weaning yet. However, I have some medical tests for myself that require her weaning and I have been putting them off for a year already, so my doctor and I decided it was probably time.

I have been trying to mentally and emotionally prepare both of us for this day for a few months now. I've been telling Greta that mommy's milk would be going bye-bye soon and she's seemed to understand and be okay with that, though part of me has always wondered if she could actually fathom what that might mean when her world has never been without mommy's milk.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been debating on when to close that door. I'd originally set Christmas as the deadline in my mind, but we all had colds over the holidays and I couldn't imagine adding that kind of insult to an already congested and miserable little girl. Besides, I knew she was still getting the antibodies I was producing through the milk, too.

So I told myself we'd end with 2009. But yesterday morning, the thought of starting the new year by telling her no was just too much for me. We did our usual wake up nurse, skipped the naptime session and then did one final bedtime nurse and cuddle. As we snuggled, I told her the milk would be gone after that and she replied with a sad little, "Otay."

She did ask to nurse this morning, but I reminded her that the milk was all gone and she just went about her day. At bedtime she forgot to even ask about it until we'd already been cuddling, reading books, telling stories and singing songs for almost 45 minutes. (Yes, we have a long bedtime routine.) When she did ask, she cried for a couple of minutes, then she told me she had to use the potty. She's getting to be such a big girl.

We managed to overcome some obstacles in the past two years and I'm proud that I was able to provide her with this relationship for as long as I did. I have been working fulltime since she was only a few months old and I pumped milk for her at work for her entire first year. When she was a few months old I had to have an MRI and it required me to pump and dump my milk for a full 48 hours after the procedure. I was able to build up enough of a stash that she never needed formula.

When she was about 8 months old I had to spend a weekend away from her for a leadership retreat. A couple of weeks before the retreat, Dave accidentally left the entire freezer supply of milk on the counter overnight. After getting over the shock of seeing all of my milk thawed on the kitchen counter, I was able to pull together enough of a supply in a few weeks that she never had to go without even when mommy was away for a couple of days.

I never expected this relationship to mean this much to me. I know it wouldn't have been this easy if she wasn't ready to wean. Mentally I am fine with this decision, but emotionally, it's a bit harder than I expected it to be, not just because I would have happily kept nursing her for a few more months, but also because this is a whole period of my life that's just OVER now.

I'm not having any more babies. I won't ever be nursing another baby again. I won't get that special snuggle and closeness that comes from nursing. I won't have that magic cure-all to offer for an ouchie, a scare, a bad dream, or a bad day.

Of course, I know I'll still provide comfort to her for all those things the way I have for Fin since he weaned, it's still just a little weird to think about just being done now after all this time. I no longer have to read every label on medication to see if I can have it while I'm pregnant or breastfeeding. It's not something I have to mention to doctors or pharmacists when I have a cold. I can wear dresses and not worry about whether she will expect to nurse when we're out and about somewhere. I can buy pretty bras again.

This is weird. And somewhat freeing, too, but I suppose I'll be able to focus on that side of it more in the next few weeks. And I know I will enjoy having my body back to myself again, if I can even remember what that's like. But for right now, this is a very bittersweet moment.