Motherhood

The Road to Motherhood

I think I always knew I would have a hard time getting pregnant. My aunt and uncle adopted both of their children as a result of infertility. I remember thinking that this was my fate (for several reasons that I shouldn't type here) and was semi-okay with it.

Until this thought became a reality.

Joe and I were married for two years before we officially started “trying” to conceive. During these years we were not “preventing” pregnancy (I hadn't been on birth control since before our engagement) but I also wasn't charting my body. I was, however, fielding questions of our impending offspring since our first dance as husband and wife. This itself can be exhausting and the epitome of emotional torture.

After a year of no luck on our own (and growing more and more scared due to the internet and book research I’d been doing) I went to my ObGYN office. I went through three doctors before I find what I call my “soul mate” doctor.

She listened to me. She empathized with me. She created a plan.

There were tests, ultrasounds, procedures and medicine. There was lots of research and reading. One of the BEST resources I found was the book, “Taking Charge of Your Fertility”. I recommend it to all of my friends.

For 29 months I tracked my body. For 884 days I logged my basal body temperature and inspected my cervical fluid in the hopes of finding positive signs of ovulation. Out of these 29 months I only ovulated ten times. TEN!

These were the hardest months for me and my marriage. Joe and I are so different when it comes to tackling problems (maybe all men and women are for that matter). Especially our infertility struggles. His answer, bless his heart, was always just to have more sex and stop trying so hard (Um, aren't those opposites?!) I tried my best to keep the fun and spontaneity in our relationship but this was SO HARD. It took a while for us to get back to being “carefree” in the bedroom. I could write an entire blog post on this subject, and maybe one day I will  <3

There were a few big hiccups along the way. Friend after friend would get pregnant; all while “not trying” and “being on birth control” or having only tried for a few months. There were many sobbing sessions hidden away in my closet – the place where I could let out the ugliest of ugly cries and cleanse my emotions.

January 2011 I hit my breaking point. I crashed. Hard. Ugly.  There becomes a point where you can’t hear the opinions of others anymore:  “What is wrong with you?” “Don’t you know that’s what you’re supposed to do now that you've been married for so long?” Yes. Yes, I do know. My body on the other hand; I don’t think she does.

January 2011  was also the month that we became pregnant. It seems that whole lesson is true; just when you think you can’t take anymore, God shows you the way.

I had an amazing pregnancy. Almost as if the universe was trying to make up for all the other bad things. Towards the end there was a battle between the ultrasound technician and my OB over the size and continued growth of the baby but we averted an early induction and I was pregnant for 41 weeks. 

Payton's Birth Story 

If I could describe my delivery with Payton in one word, that word would be DENIAL.

I was in denial when my doctor gave me only twelve hour's notice about my induction.

I was in denial that I was having another child and Nate wouldn't be my "baby" anymore.

I was in denial that my wax appointment was the following day and I was not prepared to be seen in public my strangers.

I was in denial about a lot of things.

Joe came home early off of shift and we went to the hospital together. Nate stayed the night with me in our bed so I could get extra snuggles with him and my mom came over early in the morning to stay with him while we were admitted.

If I had to pick a second word to describe Payton's delivery it would be DIFFERENT.

I loved my nurse - she was attentive and great. Much different than the nurses I had for Nate's delivery, even though I was in the same hospital.

I was admitted at 8:00am and by 9:00 the Pitocin was on. I didn't need the cervadil this time around because my cervix was already softened and I was dilated one centimeter.

With Nate I walked and used the birthing ball and was able to move around to help my body labor. With Payton, since I was a high risk delivery I had to be hooked up to the monitors at all times and mine was extra sensitive and didn't like any movement. I was told I had to stay in bed. I couldn't even take a bath to shave my legs - which was my plan since I was not prepared for this delivery and had so much tub time during Nate's labor.

When the nurse told me I was basically bed-ridden I requested to be put on the anesthesiologist's list for the epidural. Joe laughed. I gave him the stink eye. My pain level was at a one from the Pitocin but if I was forced to stay in bed and didn't have the option to help my labor progress then I wanted the epidural now and my goal was to be at a pain level of zero. With Nate I had a 36 hour induction so I knew what was coming and would rather take the next day napping than being uncomfortable.

At 11:00 I hadn't progressed and the nurse broke my water. Since this was a medically scheduled induction we needed to move things along and I couldn't really wait for my body to catch up. The hopes were that breaking my water would tell my body to start dilating.

At about 1:00 my nurse checked me and I was still only one centimeter dilated. While she was checking me my water broke (although this is debated because I swear I peed on her. She insists it was more of my water. I choose her story).

2:00, My epidural was placed in. With my first delivery, my anesthesiologist was great and the needle was placed on the first try. This time, it took three times for the doctor to get it right. Ouch!

Throughout the day I had a few visitors stop by to keep us company. My life long friend, Jane, came in right after I got my epidural and had lunch with us.

Jane left at 3:00 and I was ready for a nap. I was so tired from the stress of the past two days and finally felt calm enough to sleep. My nurse came to check on me because of the prenatal monitor and I told her that I was having a burning sensation in my belly. It felt almost like I ate some really acidic pasta sauce and it was burning a hole through my stomach lining. She checked me again on a hunch and I was fully dilated and ready to deliver. It was 3:14PM

I told her she was crazy and that I was taking a nap - come back in an hour and we could deliver. With Nate, I didn't start the delivery process until an hour after I was confirmed nine centimeters. I thought things would be the same and I could grab a quick snooze.

The nurse wheeled in the delivery cart. Again, I told her she was crazy and I insisted on taking a nap. She informed me that I was not having a nap, I was having a BABY.

I told her to relax, my doctor wasn't even there yet. We can't have a baby without her!
With Nate, I think part of why I had to wait to push was because my OB wasn't there yet.

In runs my doctor with her bootie covers in hand and says it's "time to push!" What?!?! I told them there was no way I was going to be able to deliver right now - I just had an epidural an hour ago, I couldn't feel my legs at all, let alone feel how to push correctly. They just needed to come back later. After my nap. Denial.

At 3:31 Payton Leigh was born! I wanted to deliver her myself like I experienced with Nate but she had a triple nuchal cord and my doctor had to deliver her.

I swear Payton popped out! Even my OB looked up at me with a shocked expression about how she came flying out of me.

After they placed my baby girl on my chest there was meconium present but she was fine. I was nervous about her being really small or needing extra help because she was early but she was perfect and healthy. A full head of dark hair.

I remember not really registering the moment, I think because it had happened so quickly and I was in a state of shock. I also remember thinking "This is easy! Let's do it again, Joe!".  Joe says no to Baby #3.

My post delivery was very different the second time around. The hospital now had the Golden Hour where there were no visitors allowed while Mom and Baby bond and try to develop a strong nursing relationship with skin to skin. Payton was a champ at nursing and latching on - also way different than my first.

We didn't weigh Payton until 7:00pm and that was only because my delivery nurse wanted to know her size before she went home for the day. Payton weighed 5 pounds 14 ounces

Payton didn't have a bath until the following day because the hospital now waits at least twelve hours before bathing (that's why her hair is still crunchy in all the photos). With my first delivery, I held Nate for a few minutes and they weighed and bathed him right away before giving him back to me. Totally different the second time around.

I asked my cousin and professional photographer, Maria, to come and take hospital photos of Payton as a newborn and these are some of my most prized possessions. I love every single photo <3

Our families came to meet our beautiful girl and Big Brother came and was excited to see us (but more so to play with Kailyn). It was a beautiful day and I remember feeling great. No post delivery pain -- but I was still tired because I never got my nap.

Payton's birth was such a positive experience I think that may be one of the main reasons I want a third child; I want to deliver again. And even though Nate's labor was awful, his delivery was great too - which hopefully means I can get lucky again.

To Share or Not to Share 

The lesson of sharing has been around for what seems like FOREVER and it appeared to be high on the list of things I would obviously have to teach my children when the time came. 

But then I had children and realized that the premise of sharing isn't so black and white. 

Here I am, mother to a three year old (who I have dubbed "Threenager") and my expectation is that he learn to willingly share all of his toys when his friends, neighbors or cousins come over. I expect the same from other children when we visit their house; that Nate will be able to share their toys and us Moms will have to serve as referee to the favorites of the bunch. 

But is this really indicative to the adult world? I know, this sounds crazy, but follow me for a minute .... When MY friends come over, they don't just get to use my favorite mascara because it's what they want to play with. I don't rush to finish the latest Jodi Picoult novel in "five minutes" so they can read it next. I don't always want to willingly give up the last Girl Scout cookie because it's the nice thing to do. There are countless "adult" examples that I could give, but you get the picture. 

I found myself getting frustrated that Nate was having such a hard time sharing and that he was so territorial over some of his toys. But then I realized that my expectations (and really what I thought was the normal expectation) didn't align with the mind of a three year old (or of many people for that matter). 

When playing with the neighborhood kids and Nate is using his favorite sword to fight crime, I think it's his right to play with "that" sword. After all, it's his and the boy down the street has his own sword to play with. I guess this falls along the Montessori method of thinking; when a child "claims" a toy or play station, it essentially belongs to them until they are done exploring it. When I'm at the nail salon {which is rare} and am digging the latest issue of People magazine, the woman who walks in after me can't insist that  it's "her turn" and I must trade her for the ten month old edition of Good Housekeeping. 

I'm not saying I don't expect my kids to share, or not to have a heart kind enough to WANT to make others happy. But that has become my motivation to teaching the foundation of sharing; making others happy by treating them with respect and kindness and making choices that will have a positive result. 

When I'm done reading about the on-set dramas, celebrity babies and latest fashion faux pas, I can offer the magazine to anyone else who would like to read it because it is the polite thing to do. 

When Nate decides he'd rather be Michelangelo with nunchucks instead of wielding a sword, he can offer it to the group instead of hoarding it under his bed {which has happened before}. 

And when there's only one Thin Mint cookie left in the Girl Scout box he can either offer it up or move on to a different snack that everyone can share. 

I know I'll get some crazy looks from the moms at the playground who think the swings should be on a "two minute rotation" so everyone can get a turn - but that's ok. Nate can swing until he is done because he was there first. They'll look at us crazy anyway because he'll be running around with a superhero cape, crazy boots on his feet and a sword in hand. 

What People Don't Tell You About Having Two Kids 

Going from one baby to two is definitely a transition. Everything that worked so well the first time doesn’t this time around and what you were once an “expert” at becomes unfamiliar territory. Especially going from boy to girl, or vice versa – but that’s a whole other conversation.

I knew things were going to get crazy for a little while but what I didn’t expect was losing Mom friends; Friends that had become important to me and my sanity of being a mother. I’m not sure why, but as women we can be judgy, hypocritical and insensitive. I’m not quite sure why we want to be friends with people like that but nonetheless you still feel the sting when they decide your friendship doesn’t count anymore.

The feeling of rejection is compounded because these were the friends who you turned to about Baby #1 and worked through infancy, baby milestones and toddlerhood with. The friends you thought would be the most supportive and helpful when it came to Baby #2.

 I didn’t think it would be an issue to nurse my infant while my toddler was playing in playgroup, relying on their help if it was needed. Or quickly leaving to change the baby’s diaper while the big kids were enjoying a snack together. And don’t get me started on the tandem meltdowns when the baby wants to nurse and be rocked but the toddler wants you to hold them or go play tag at the same time.

This is when the stares and murmurs start. Clearly these mothers are experts on having one kid (although, is there really such thing as being an expert mother) and their expertise carries over to their imaginary multiple children, too.

So, they judge how you react to the meltdowns, or joke (or not) about needing wine at night, or pawn your toddler off for a few minutes in their trusted hands to work your magic on the baby.

You would think this would all be ok and perfectly acceptable; leaning on one another when it’s needed and then returning the favor when it’s their turn because you know exactly how it feels.

But that’s not what happens. You were the first of your friends to have two children and they don’t understand what all comes with Baby #2. Bless their little naive hearts.

Some of you are reading this and have no idea what I’m talking about because your friends are great – they don’t judge you and are totally supportive of your role as a mother. I have those kinds of friends too and love them more than I knew because of how they’ve pulled through for me and continue to be a pillar in my life.

And then some of you know exactly how it feels to be separated from friends and knowing in your gut it’s because of your expanded family – not the busy schedules or hectic holidays. To you, I say screw ‘em. It’s good to learn now which girlfriends can hang with you for the long haul and which ones can’t handle the mud. Plant your garden where the sun shines 

Pregnancy #2

I always knew I wanted more than one baby and hoped that was in God’s plan, too. We started trying for our second child what some would consider early – and I was nervous. Nervous it would take a long time again. Nervous I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again at all. But we were blessed and after seven months of charting and trying we became pregnant with Baby #2!!

This pregnancy was different from my first in many ways. I didn’t crave any foods. I didn’t eat like a herd of elephants. I focused on eating healthy and doing my best to make my body feel good.

Because it usually didn’t. I was the epitomy of pregnancy discomfort. I couldn’t sleep at night because my hips felt so much pressure it hurt to lay down. I would pace the house hoping to get so exhausted I would just collapse into sleep. No such luck. I was lucky to get two hours at a time before I had to reposition of get up and move. During the day I felt great – I napped with Nate napped and slept in some mornings when my husband was home. This was great for me but really great for Joe and Nate because they were able to spend quality time together.

This pregnancy started off not being a “high risk pregnancy” so we didn’t get as many ultrasounds as we did with Nate. Which meant we had to wait sixteen weeks to find out if we were having a boy or girl. With Nate, we found out early and in the ultrasound room – Joe was too excited to wait and I couldn’t deny him the knowledge. But with Baby #2 we had the ultrasound tech write down the sex of the baby and put it in an envelope. This envelope was trusted to one person who was in charge of filling our balloon box with either pink or blue balloons.

We hosted a gender reveal party and had our family over to discover with us and celebrate. Joe and I were both thinking boy and were so happy to find out we were having a GIRL! #teampink

Shopping and nursery prep for a little girl can be so fun! Picking out a name, not so much! My top pick was Parker Margaret (Margaret after my mom) and Joe’s was Payton. Payton Leigh is what we ended up with – and we didn’t decide until we were being discharged from the hospital after delivery. I may have been bitter and continued to call P Parker for the first months of her life <3

Starting at week 30 I had the stress tests again each week. Throughout my pregnancy my doctor was worried about my lack of weight gain, but the baby always measured perfect. In the beginning I lost weight because I didn’t want to eat anything and I didn’t overeat at all (very different from my nightly box of brownies with Nate). So when I did gain from week to week some of that was catch up from my first trimester weight loss.

At week 35 Baby was diagnosed with Intrauterine Growth Restriction. She wasn’t growing very much and my doctor put me on a strict diet; I needed to eat more fatty foods myself in the hopes that the baby would gain the weight.

I knew I would end up being induced again and I was emotional about it. I wanted more time with Nate as my only child. I wanted to finish the curtains and stencil wall in the nursery (neither have yet to be finished). I wanted to make freezer meals for my recovery week.

I remember at 37 weeks I was at a weekly appointment getting an ultrasound with my doctor. She asked the usual, “How are you feeling?” and I unloaded all my nervousness on her. I felt stressed! I wanted more time before having the baby. Through tears I was telling her about my anxieties.

This is when she told me my fluid level was low and I was to be induced ASAP. The following morning. My tears turned to ugly crying. Joe was on a 24 hour shift and wouldn’t be home until after I was admitted. I wanted more time to have a special weekend with Nate. I hadn’t packed my bags. The house needed to be cleaned. Laundry needed to be washed, folded and put away.

But babies don’t wait. 

My First Night as a Nursing Mother 

When Nate was born we had a flooding of family members who came to meet him. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins… Everyone came and it was great. I felt great. After a long labor I had a great delivery and had a surge of adrenaline to get me through visiting hours. While I had all this energy, Nate was obviously exhausted from his journey because he slept the span of visiitn hours. From 5:00pm – 11:00pm. I was almost naïve enough to think that I would actually get to sleep too once everyone left. But as soon as my head touched the pillow he woke up screaming.

Isn’t that the way it usually happens? I had tried nursing him earlier but he wasn’t too interested in latching on. I had requested a visit from the lactation specialist but was told she wouldn’t be in until the next day. Now that he was awake I tried nursing again. He was not having it. My rule was absolutely no pacifiers or bottles because I didn’t want him to experience nipple confusion. I gave that rule up pretty quickly and used a pacifier. That calmed him a bit and taught him the art of sucking. I would replace the pacifier with my body and Nate would scream. My night nurse suggested he was hungry and since my milk hadn’t come in yet I should supplement with formula.

In my research before delivery I knew that I would only have colustrum (the golden milk), which is all he would need until my milk came in a few days later. But now that I was in the moment and felt hopeless against his cries I gave in. But not too much. The nurse was able to drop formula in Nate’s mouth with a dropper while I encouraged him to latch on to my breast. This worked for a little while and we did this off and on throughout the night.

In the morning I met with the LC. She told me I had “inverted nipples” which is why it was difficult for Nate to latch. Great! She suggested I get a nipple shield to stimulate a more full nipple and make Nate’s job easier on him. So that is what we did and hit made nursing SO much better for both of us. He latched on right away and I never became “raw” and blistered. A win, win. I’ve spoken with mother who felt that using a nipple shield took away from their nursing experience. I don’t feel this way. To me, using this tool made it easier for both of us, thus allowing us both to enjoy this journey even more.

I do remember that the most difficult day as a nursing mother was when Nate was four days old. At this age, even though he was latching great, my milk hadn’t come in yet and he wanted milk. He cried and cried – attempted to eat and grew frustrated that what he was looking for wasn’t there. I cried and cried with him. I called my cousin who was my nursing guide (every new mom should have one of these) and she told me to lay with Nate skin to skin and feed him as often as possible. But wasn’t that the problem? He wanted to eat and I didn’t have what he wanted. But it all comes down to supply and demand. If my body does feel Nate demanding milk, my body wont supply it. If I chose to supplement with formula then my body wouldn’t feel his demand and my milk wouldn’t come in.

Day Four was long and hard for everyone in the household. But we made it day five and everything was a breeze after that – as long as I had my nipple shield J

Want to nurse? You can DO it! I am an advocate for “breast is best” but am also for empowering women and momma’s – find what works best for you and your baby. My advice? Do NOT give up . It can be tough – especially the first week and when you navigate growth spurts. But stick with it!!

Find a friend, someone you feel comfortable with, who was a nursing mother and can be your cheerleader on tough days.

Nate's Birth Story 

After 41 weeks of being pregnant I was induced. At first this was not what I wanted. During my pregnancy I became obsessed with TLC’s A Baby Story and 90% of mothers who were induced ended up having a c-section. This was not my plan. I do not like needles. I am afraid of surgery. I am afraid of the recovery of a c-section. But by week 41 I was cooked. Induction didn’t seem that bad to me.

Monday morning we had to be at the hospital at 6:00am. Joe and I packed our bags the night before, set our alarm and woke up early to go to breakfast just the two of us one last time. By the time everything was all hooked up and paperwork was filled out, the induction started at 8:00am. Cervadil was in.

It was a pretty quiet afternoon with mild contractions. My Mom brought lunch and we were bunkered down watching movies. 

2:00 my aunt visited me and this is when I started becoming uncomfortable. Back labor is awful and I would not wish it on anyone. It felt like a chisel was separating my hips every seven to ten minutes. I remember wanting a labor ball to stretch out but the nurses were all busy and my husband didn’t want to bother them. Thank the good Lord Auntie Jan came to visit because she got me the labor ball and it did help a lot. It was the only thing I could sit on (who designed hospital beds anyway?) that didn't feel like physical torture.

As the day drew on, the back pain got worse. I walked the halls in the vain hope of speeding labor along. The bed was so uncomfortable and it hurt my tailbone too much to sit so I walked and walked and walked. The nurses were in an “on shift” training program so I didn’t get the pain medication or sleeping pill my OB promised me. In fact, throughout the entire night not one single nurse came into my room. The only eventful thing that happened was Joe received third degree burns on his hand while trying to heat up my Panera soup for dinner.

6:00am – I was exhausted. At this point I had been awake for 26 hours with only limited sleep the night before (because who can sleep the day before they know theyre having a baby?!). The hospital bed was so uncomfortable I decided to try Joe’s guest cot. It felt like a cloud of pillows! Two minutes after I laid down I felt this large blob secrete itself. My water broke! Bloody water. So bloody that the morning nurses weren’t sure if it was really my water or something else. Upon checking me and learning that it was my water that broke, the nurse told me that the baby was positioned posterior, which was the reason for my bad back labor.

7:00am – My doctor came to check on me. She took one look at me and knew that something was wrong. She didn’t even have a chance to ask me about it before I broke down in tears. I couldn’t believe myself. I had been looking forward to THIS day for YEARS and I was still so upset about the lack of service and help from my nurses. I felt ungrateful for my journey and disappointed in the day and myself. The back labor was still awful and I wanted relief. More than relief I wanted sleep. I asked for the epidural and had to get checked first. I was excited. I thought for sure I would have been five centimeters or so. I mean, it had been 24 hours. 24 hours of contractions and back labor.

Two. I was dilated two centimeters. So I walked some more. And soaked in a warm bath while waiting for my fluids and epidural.

10:00am – Pitocin started and the epidural was in. I had the best nap EVER! It was amazing! We had visitors throughout the day and even though I was antsy I felt better.

1:00pm – Six centimeters. This is where the “c” word started popping up. The nurses approached me about a c-section because it had been so long since we had started. But I held firm. And grew agitated that they kept pressuring me to go this route. I had faith in the process and in my doctor because she knew my wishes and was following them.

2:00pm – Epidural was removed because the baby’s pressure kept dropping and the nurses felt this was a result of the epidural. Once again they brought up the option of having a c-section.

Pitocin was turned all the way up to “speed things up”

3:00 – Tornado warning was issued and we were told to prepare for evacuation to the center room if needed. Totally normal,right?!?

3:30 – We were told I was finally at nine centimeters. Finally!! I was excited but the nurses were not. Nate’s rates kept decelerating and they again suggested a “c-section would be easiest for everyone”.

While my doctor was visiting earlier in the day she had prescribed a transfusion. I remember the nurses doubting this and thinking it was unnecessary. But at this time it became evident why she had ordered one; to help me reach my goal of a vaginal delivery. Even though it was a long induction, my water had technically only been broken for nine hours but she wanted to make sure the umbilical was as moist as possible to endure the long labor.

Once the nurse told me I was nine centimeters I kicked everyone out of the room. Poor Joe tried leaving too but I brought him back in. From 3:30 until delivery I had the longest contraction EVER! Other Momma’s are probably laughing at me or can totally relate because they remember it too . While I was enduring this pain (the back labor was still here, too), Joe was sitting in the rocking chair watching “Everybody Love Raymond”. I was too distracted at the time to really care but I think he was so nervous and exhausted himself he just needed this time to regroup before the “real action” started.

4:00pm – My doctor arrived and we started prepping for delivery. Part of what I was feeling during the “longest contraction ever” was the baby moving down. He was definitely descending and I could feel him moving down my body and birth canal. So surreal!

Well thank goodness he did all that moving on his own (finally) because I only had to push about five times. I remember being so focused on the task at hand. I turned into a different person. I think THIS is where I turned into a mother. I asked for a mirror so that I could better see what different push techniques moved him down best. Me, a mirror?!

At 4:19pm on October 18^th Nate Joseph was born. I was able to deliver him myself. This was a first for my OB and I had to show her the video of Kourtney Kardashian delivering her own baby but she allowed me to do it and it was the best experience. Joe has already had the privilege of delivering babies so I was blessed to do this myself. It is one of my proudest moments and still brings tears to my eyes thinking about it.

Joe was able to cut the cord and helped give Nate his first bath and get him dressed in his baseball sleeper. He was the prettiest baby I had ever seen! Once I was all cleaned up our parents came in and soon after our extended family flooded the room to meet and snuggle with our little man.

And of course, I had to have a Publix sub for dinner. After not being able to have one during my entire pregnancy (which I craved every day), this was a MUST for my post-delivery meal. 

The Night I Became the Grinch 

I think I was naive.

Nate sort of breezed through the Terrible Two's and I naively thought we were golden.

And then we hit 2 1/2 and shit got real. I don't know if it was a culmination of the Terrible Two's and the sibling rivalry that was never really an issue until Payton started turning into her little person, but we started facing the tantrums and attitude of the dreaded Terrible Two's head on. Nate and I were both miserable, overwhelmed and lost about what to do about it.

I feel like we've tried everything.

Time Out. This worked for about a week and then held zero consequence for him. When Nate got into trouble he would sit in time out without any fuss and patiently wait for his two or three minutes to be up by repeatedly counting to 20 or picking his toenails. When the timer buzzed, he got up, said his apologies and went back to his day. I felt like there was no real "punishment" in this routine for him.

Losing privileges.  This does work with the right incentive. Nate loves watching Mickey Mouse on the couch at 7:30 while I get Payton into bed and during the day will work towards this reward and will feel the consequence of losing this to a tantrum. But this once effective measure lost its importance and we were back where we started -- no dreaded punishment.

A sticker chart. This too worked great for a short period but then built a sense of entitlement and a feeling that prizes and treats were a daily necessity because he earned stickers. In Nate's mind, playing outside, going for a walk, baking cookies and watching cartoons didn't count as prizes/treats. We are still working on this and what his expectations really should be - and this works good for us for daily lessons.

Spanking. I know this is opening a huge can of worms but spanking has been working with Nate. I was spanked as a kid and even though I see the rationale behind not spanking my child when I'm trying to teach him to keep his hands off of others, this punishment has a sounding board with him. When I ask Nate to do something and he doesn't comply or gives me an attitude, he has until I count to three to do what he is told or he gets spanked. No questions asked. No exceptions. He knows the rules and once this routine was established this worked well for us.

But then we turned THREE. No one really tells you that the Torturous Threes are worse than the Terrible Twos until you're complaining about the migraine caused by the Terrible Twos. But trust me, it's worse. At least, it has been for us.

The loss of privileges and "1,2,3, spank" are good tactics for us for small to medium misbehaviors. But there have been too many days (weeks, really) recently when we would forfeit the right to play with five toys, lost Mickey Mouse before bed (before we even ate lunch) and needed too many "1,2,3" before we would listen. AHH!! I was wracking my brain trying to find what would work. I looked to different blogs and websites and people pushed the need for routine (which we do) and consistency (which I strive for). But I didn't feel these were working for us.

So tonight, I became the Grinch. During dinner, Nate had a meltdown and lost Mickey Mouse from his tantrum. We got home and he keep being too rough and not making good choices. He's had this since of entitlement lately which truly breaks my heart. How did I teach him this? What makes him think these things? I took a good look at myself and Nate and decided that we needed more of a drastic outcome. After our rough evening we sat down and had a good talk about what would happen if he continued making poor choices, having tantrums and being too rough with others. I told him that if he could not appreciate the toys that he had and follow the rules that keeps him and everyone safe that ALL of the toys in his room would come out and he wouldn't be able to have them back until he could play nicely and safely. He received it well - or so I thought.

Thirty minutes later we had another incident and I calmly walked into his room and started packing everything up. EVERYTHING. The entire toy box stuffed with toys. The toy shelves in his closet full of cars, action figures and balls. His superhero costumes and capes hanging in his closet. EVERYTHING. Of course he freaked out and started screaming and crying. I was so thankful it was late enough to put his pajamas on and tuck him in to bed and just be done with the day (7:45 isn't too early, right?!). He continued to cry but I followed our usual bedtime routine (except for reading three books) by tucking him in and layering him with his favorite blankets and turning on his snow globe with a kiss and "I love you". Before I left I prayed over him and for me; so that we would both have patience, a kind heart and be open to positivity.

And that was it. I became the Grinch and took away all his toys.

At first I felt a bit guilty but now I don't. He needs this. We both did. 

I thought maybe this was too extreme and not really fair to him. After all, he is only three. But in all honesty, he really only plays with four of those toys on a regular basis. Removing everything was more for dramatic show and I pray it has the effect I hoped for.

The toys in the Toy Room are still in tact and will stay that way unless there is no improvement in our day to day behavior and those need to be gone too.

And I've made the commitment that he won't get his bedroom toys back until Christmas is over. We have two weeks to earn them back with positive behavior.

Secretly, I'm hoping this will turn into a great revelation that we don't need all this "stuff" and it won't truly be missed and therefore won't have to be returned.

It's 8:30; he's asleep and I'm on the couch with a bottle of wine and typing through my thoughts.

Here's to a better day tomorrow and our two week journey to a better US <3