Lessons Learned from Titanic

This past weekend Ryan and I celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary. We went to the 100 year anniversary exhibit of the Titanic at Union Station. I have been fascinated by Titanic for years now. I really think it stemmed from the movie that came out in 1997. My love for Leonardo DiCaprio began which thankfully wore off, but my interest in the famous ship has only increased. I'm a huge history nerd, so hearing the facts about the Titanic is really interesting to me. And the story itself- it is what movies are made of. Just hearing about how all the events prior to striking the ice burg... how it could have possibly been prevented is just plain crazy to think about. Hearing all the stories of the different people and their survival stories is pretty cool to me as well.

So needless to say, I was super excited about going to the exhibit. Even my husband was interested in going. Walking though the exhibit you hear the same music that was playing in the hours the ship was sinking. You go through dark rooms with illuminated words on the walls chronicling the events leading right up to the ice burg hit. There were so many artifacts that I was shocked even survived a ship breaking in two, traveling 2 miles below the sea, crashing on the sea floor and surviving the ocean environment for 100 years. There were dishes and glasses galore. There was even a champagne bottle that was stilled corked with champagne still in it. The strangest thing that fascinated me was the silverware. Just hours before it was held in the finest hands of the most wealthy people in the world. Just hours before they graced the tables of a jovial celebration for Captain E. J. Smith for a "successful" final journey.

At the beginning of the exhibit you get a boarding pass with the name and one or two sentence biography of an actual passenger on the ship. At the end of the exhibit there is a list of survivors and victims. I was a 2nd class woman named Sylvia Mae Caldwell traveling with my husband, Albert, and 10 month old son, Alden. I figured I had a good chance to survive since I was 2nd class and a chick. Ryan got a 3rd class man named David John Barton. I knew Ryan was screwed because he was male. Being 3rd class was basically a death sentence.

As it turned out, my passenger survived along with her husband and son. Ryan didn't fare too well, poor chap. When we left the exhibit I was definitely pleased, but was kind of shocked with myself that I wasn't more emotional. I had seen belongings of people who had perished. I had read of how poorly the 3rd class had been treated. More people died that night than were saved. Why wasn't I all hormonal and weepy like I usually am?

Later that night I Googled Sylvia Mae Caldwell and found a really interesting and detailed website called Encyclopedia Titanica. There was a picture of Sylvia and her family. She was very beautiful. In her biography it stated that she and her husband got a divorce later in life, which made me sad. It even had the biography of her son Alden. He was known to be an unfriendly and reclusive man. That made me sad, too.

I looked up Ryan's passenger, David John Barton. He was on his way to New York to work for the Kodak Company. He was to travel with two of his friends on a different ship, but he failed the medical inspection. How did he fail? "...David failed the medical inspection owing to a blemish on his face which the inspectors declared to be possibly contagious." Could that possibly have been a zit??? A freaking zit on this 22 year old's face is what forced him to board Titanic?! Seeing this young man's face and the photo of the Caldwell family hit me hard. These just weren't characters in a movie. They were real people with real lives and real stories.

There was a list of all available biographies of the survivors and victims of Titanic. I spent way too much time reading about some of these people. I clicked on Rossmore Abbot. He was a 16 year old 3rd class passenger traveling with his 13 year old brother Eugene and mother, Rosa. As the ship was sinking they all three jumped into the sea. His mother was able to make it to a lifeboat, but Rossmore and Eugene did not survive. How awful it must have been for his mother. Jumping into a sea as the ship is sinking, swimming in freezing waters and finally making it to a boat, only to realize that you were separated from your only children. I'm sure she hoped and prayed they made it. The sad thing is that Rossmore's body was found, but was buried at sea and  Eugene's body was never found.

The whole burying at sea thing was also something that I couldn't wrap my head around. The ships that came to the wreck site did not have enough embalming supplies or caskets to accommodate all the bodies that were still afloat on the ocean. The wealthy passengers were collected first, so that their estates and insurance policies could be settled quickly. Others, mostly lower class and crewmen were buried at sea. In Rossmore's biography it stated he was body 190.

NO. 190 - MALE - ESTIMATED AGE, 22 - VERY FAIR
CLOTHING - Brown overcoat; grey pants; green cardigan; blue jersey; black boots.
EFFECTS - Watch; chain and fob, with medal marked "Rossmore Abbott"; pocket book empty and two knives.
PROBABLY THIRD CLASS - NAME - ROSSMORE ABBOT


It just seems sad that his mother couldn't lay her sons to rest. I'm sure there were countless more bodies that were entombed in the ship, or left to decay out in the ocean after being swept away in a current. For some strange reason I feel the corporal work of mercy of burying the dead is extremely important, so it just breaks my heart that some of these people were forever lost. 

What is interesting is to see the difference of the effects found on the bodies of the 3rd class passengers compared to 1st class. We see that Rossmore's belongings were very simple. Look at famous 1st class passenger John Jacob Astor's information when his body was recovered: 

NO. 124 - MALE - ESTIMATED AGE 50 - LIGHT HAIR & MOUSTACHE
CLOTHING - Blue serge suit; blue handkerchief with "A.V."; belt with gold buckle; brown boots with red rubber soles; brown flannel shirt; "J.J.A." on back of collar.
EFFECTS - Gold watch; cuff links, gold with diamond; diamond ring with three stones; £225 in English notes; $2440 in notes; £5 in gold; 7s. in silver; 5 ten franc pieces; gold pencil; pocketbook.
FIRST CLASS NAME-J.J.ASTOR 

I suppose it doesn't matter what was found on their bodies, because they couldn't take it with them in the afterlife. I just found the contrasts interesting. 

Reading all this made me really think about the true nature of the tragedy. Looking down the list I saw listings for bodies of toddlers and children. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Joe. It made me think to that scene in Titanic with the 3rd class Irish mommy softly speaking the poem Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod to her two children as they lay in bed. She knew there was no way to escape since some of the gates were locked and all the lifeboats were gone. She tried to keep them calm. I'm sure James Cameron used a lot of artistic liberty in this movie, but in some ways, I can see these scenes as being real. How on earth could you handle the sight of your small child being washed away? Knowing they will be terrified and there is nothing you can do about it? I looked at Ryan with tears in my eyes and he suggested I stop reading this stuff. But I couldn't stop. 

Then there were the stories of women who had to leave their husbands behind. There was the hope they would find a lifeboat later, but this wasn't the case for many of Titanic's victims. I keep putting myself in those women's shoes. Giving Ryan one last hug and kiss and hoping to see him later. I wonder if I would have insisted on waiting for him so we could board a lifeboat together. Would I have been like Ida Straus? She was a first class passenger traveling with her husband. She was about to get on lifeboat #8 when she turned to her husband and said, "We have lived together for many years. Where you go, I go." They were last seen quietly sitting on deck chairs.

I pretty much know for a fact that Ryan would have forced me on a boat so I would survive. I know it must have been devastating for those women to watch the ship break in two and hear all those screams and people swimming and wondering if their beloved was among them.

I get depressed reading back on this post. The Titanic is not a happy story. I just find it interesting to see how God's hand worked in these people's lives. It's weird to think about if certain events would have happened differently then this disaster might not have occurred at all. The crew did not have binoculars to look for ice burgs because they were either not packed on the ship at all, or else locked in a locker and not known to be there. That might have helped spot the ice burg earlier. Perhaps if they weren't hauling ass across the Atlantic they would have seen the burg. Maybe if they would have heeded the ice warnings from other ships they could have prevented disaster. 

Then there are the other "what if's." What if there were enough boats for all the passengers? How many more lives could have been saved? What if the crew had been properly trained for a disaster and knew to launch the boats with more people? What if the closest ship to the Titanic- the Californian would have come to their rescue? They were close enough to see the emergency flares go up, but failed to respond. 

Life is full of what if's. But we are told that everything happens for a reason. I think it is kind of bittersweet that if David John Barton or Rossmore Abbott would have lived, then it is more than likely that no one today would remember their names. But now I know about their life and their story. And now you do as well.

One of the first questions I would ask God if I'm blessed enough to get to heaven is why he let the Titanic sink. There had to be a reason. There had to be a lesson. What lessons have we learned in these past 100 years? Shipbuilders learned to make their ships safer. Different economic classes were treated with a bit more fairness. The survivors hugged their loved ones a little tighter.

As for me, I've learned that your life can change in an instant. Those you love can be taken from you or you yourself could be taken from your loved ones. It is best to let go of those grudges. It is best to look past those annoying habits. It is better to love and try your best to be happy in life.  

 

Boy Oh Boy

Today I am 26 weeks pregnant. I've known for almost a month that I am having another boy, but I still can't wrap my head around that fact.



Long before I became pregnant with Joe I always made the semi-joking comment that I want all boys because if I have a girl and she's anything like me, then I'll be put in a mental institution. Plus, I'm not very girly-girl, so chasing around a gross dirty boy who likes super heroes sounds really fun to me!




A few weeks before we found out the gender of this newest baby I was at the park with Joe. Two little boys came with their grandmother and they were rowdy, loud and so much fun to watch (in a non-kidnapping way, of course.) They were playing "king and knight" and the oldest boy told me that he was five years old and his brother was three. They are two years apart, just like Joe and his little sibling will be. They had Lego Star Wars shirts on, skinned up knees and my heart just burst with joy thinking that I could have another boy and Joe would have so much fun with his little brother, just like these two boys were.

But I thought for sure that I was having a girl. This pregnancy has been so different from my pregnancy with Joe that I was certain I was crafting a girl in there. But when the ultrasound tech directed her wand toward the baby's nether-region I could tell immediately that there was no va-jay-jay there. It was all boy and he was showing off his goods loud and proud. Both Ryan and I were stunned. "Wow... another boy!"

Don't get me wrong- it's not like I'm unhappy that we're having another boy. Ryan and I said long ago that it would be fun to have two boys back-to-back because that would be an amazing bond. Of course, we said this before Joe started climbing everything and eating spiders. It's nice too that we won't have to buy all new stuff. Plus, I know how a boy operates, so I feel like I'm more prepared for this baby.

But part of me wonders/worries if we'll ever have a girl. As much as I love the adventures of boys I do want a daughter. But looking at my family tree on my side, the chances of having a girl look dismal. My mom's mom had six boys before she got her girl. My dad's mom had three boys. In fact, my dad's side is primarily men. My half-sister and I were the first female Munshaws in two generations. All of our cousins are boys. My sister has two boys. It even seems like most of the women that graduated from my college have a lot of boys. Maybe Ryan's side of the family will pull through because both his mom and dad's sibling groups consist of a lot of girls.

Just last weekend we were at the park again and there was a pregnant woman there with her 16 month old son. I asked her what she was having and she said she was having another boy. She also said they were done after this one because she knew if she tried for a girl then they'd have another boy. I'm not too worried yet about never having a girl. It's all in God's hands.

But I am going to order Rachel Balducci's book How do You Tuck in a Superhero? just in case I am blessed with oodles of boys!

Three Years of Love

Three years ago today I said "I do" to my darling husband. We were surrounded by our family and friends. Most importantly, I could feel God was truly there and a part of our sacrament.

I wish I had enough time to write a lengthy post about all the wonderful and not so wonderful parts of our marriage journey. However, I have a sleeping toddler who could awake at any moment and I don't think I will have enough time to write what I'd really like to write about.

So much has happened in these three years. We have moved three times. We have conceived three children. We have had many highs and many lows. We've laughed and cried. We have fought. We've made up. We've had to figure out this parenting thing.

Sometimes it seems we've been married much longer than three years, but I can still remember our wedding day like it was yesterday. It was a bit on the cool side, and there was a soft rain in the morning and later that night. I wasn't nervous at all that day, like I thought I would be. My favorite moment? Seeing Ryan for the first time at the end of that aisle. I was on the arm of my brother, hundreds of people were standing up looking at me, but it was like the only person there was my beloved, waiting patiently for me.

Ryan and I aren't big anniversary people. This weekend we are going to celebrate by going to the Titanic exhibit at Union Station. I am going to try and convince him to see Titanic in 3D. I have no idea what dinner plans we have. Nothing candle-lit or romantic. That's just not really our style.

Ryan did get me a CD and a DVD that I've been wanting for awhile. But my favorite thing was probably the card he got me. On the front there is a freakishly perfect man and woman with their son and daughter. It says, "We're not the average family with 2.5 kids. Which is probably for the best." The inside says, "That 1/2 a kid might really freak our neighbors out." It reminded me that Ryan and I are not like everybody else. We want a big family. We aren't ashamed of our Catholic faith and take joy in it. We don't want the big house with the nice cars and want to travel the globe. We aren't worried about careers or retirement plans. We want to glorify God through our marriage, through the blessing of children and we want to get to heaven.

It isn't always easy to live with that mentality. But marriage isn't always easy either. None of the good, grand and wonderful things in life are easy peasy. But I sure do thank God for giving me the helpmate that he did and for the wonderful years we've had, and the adventure that is sure to come!

The Scream

This isn't my typical post of asking for toddler advice. (Although, I do want to thank everyone for their input!) This isn't really even a post to vent.

I just gotta write about how amazingly loud my son's screams are becoming.

I know the scream is a staple of toddler behavior. However, I think my Joe's screams are otherworldly.

The banshees of lore have nothin' on the kid.



Twihards and Bieberites? Pshh... they are like monks practicing monastic silence on top of a mountain compared to my Joe.


Joe can out scream a velociraptor.


***You can find a very authentic velociraptor noise here for comparison.

I feel sorry for our neighbors. Yikes... Yesterday was the first time we went to the parish we plan on regularly attending. My brother went with us and I'm pretty sure he has magical wizardry powers, because the last two times we've gone to Mass with him Joe has been relatively quiet. Buuuut around the time for communion the scream came out. Talk about making a good first impression on your fellow parishioners!

I hope it doesn't sound like I complain too much about Joe. I am just at a loss sometimes when it come to dealing with him.

I find it so fascinating to see his personality come through. He is definitely fearless. He walks right up to strangers and big huge dogs. He climbs everything. I do mean EVERYTHING! We're thinking we need to invest in one of these bad boys.



It is nerve-wracking, but I just keep things as safe as possible and remain thankful that he is a strong, mobile little boy.

It is hilarious to see him try to "jump" on his bed. He hasn't figured out how to jump, but he still has a grand, laughing time... until I say stop.

He has emerged to be quite the dancer. There was a family wedding on Saturday and guess who was the center of attention on the dance floor? Yes, Joe was out there shakin' his groove thing and twirling around in circles. He was quite the flirt with a little girl who was also there. However, he ate too much, spun in circles too much and vomited on the dance floor. Suddenly the dreams of him becoming the next pope are being replaced with images of him as a frat boy. We're working on it.

I'm wondering if in a few months he'll turn out to be like this little guy-



Sometimes when he's tucked in between his daddy and me, I just stare at him. He is becoming tall and lean. His hair is really coming in. I think of how he walks and runs and how stable on his feet he has become. I look at how long his fingers are becoming and how big his feet are. I still see that chubby baby fat on his wrists and thighs and it makes me happy that he isn't all the way grown up yet!

Joe is growing up and with that comes new adventures and new beginnings. It will be interesting to "do it again" with his little brother.

7 Quick Takes Friday: Toddler Questions Edition

I wish I had enough brain power and energy to come up with interesting and read-worthy Quick Takes. However, I really don't have the mental capacity to string coherent sentences together. Just last night I kept asking my husband to wash the microwave and he kept looking at me like I was a crack head. I could not for the life of me understand why he wasn't understanding what I was saying. Finally after a little meltdown from me, and laughter from my husband I realized I was saying microwave instead of pan. "Just wash the damn pan!" I finally yelled. Yeah, we have a super holy marriage.

But I have some questions that I REALLY need answers to. Please help.

1. Joe absolutely HATES to have his teeth brushed. I mean, I might as well look like this when I come up to him with the toothbrush.



He screams like I am torturing him. It's definitely a two person job- my husband holds down his flailing limbs and I have to hold his face and pry his mouth open. It is quite a challenge and it would be SO much easier to just not brush them, but I don't want his teeth to rot and fall out before he hits age three. Those darn little teeth were a pain in the butt to come in so you're damn right I'm going to take care of them!

I've tried being really cheerful and not show my anxiety and letting him "brush" his own teeth, but when he sees that toothbrush come out it's like I'm pulling out a butcher knife.

Any tips (besides tranquilizers) to help us brush his teeth? Or is this just a phase we have to endure for awhile?

2. I'm tired.



Like, really really tired.

I'm sure that this pregnancy is adding to the exhaustion, but it seems to be getting worse. From 7:00 a.m. -9:00 p.m. I'm chasing after Joe. When he finally goes to sleep I want some time to spend with my husband, watch TV and get online. I'm usually ready to crash by 10:30. I'm usually awake at 6:30. That's 8 hours of sleep, although those hours aren't always restful sleep.

My favorite time of day? 9:00-10:00 when Sesame Street is on. I sit with Joe in the recliner while he watches it and I doze off. But I feel like I need more rest than that!

So I'm just curious- what time do you go to bed at night and wake up in the morning? What gets you through the day? (I drink one Dr. Pepper a day and that barely gets me through.) Also, I understand that Joe getting up at 7:00 is late for some people, but for this grump who hates mornings, 7:00 is the Devil's Time.

3. I know I've asked this before, but how do you do time-outs?

Joe is really really loving pushing the boundaries. He especially loves to push the boundaries on the little one-year-old girl I babysit. He pushes her down, tries to bite her, hits her in the head and body slams her. So yesterday was the first time I put him in time-out. I did one minute in a certain spot. He kept trying to get up, which I knew would happen, so I just held him for one minute. Is that totally wrong and cruel and am I setting him on the path for serial killer-ism?

I look him in the eye afterward and explain why he was in time-out. And then he runs off and two seconds later I'm prying him off of the little gal. I swear it's not working.

4. Speaking of Joe going all ninja on the girl I babysit- I'm so nervous about when this new baby comes. I figure there will be jealousy issues, but now I'm more worried that Joe will try and drop-kick his little brother. I obviously know to keep a close eye on him when he's with the baby, but I really don't know if I will have the energy to keep Joe from hurting the baby. Joe will be about 23 months old when the baby is born, so maybe he'll have matured by then.

Did any of you have problems with this? Is there anything I can do to prevent it from happening?

5. When did you start potty training? How do you even start? We got Joe a potty chair for Easter and I don't think he is ready considering he puts his foot in the hole where the pee and poop go and tries to climb in it.

6. The awesome Kate posted an article on my Facebook that immediately made me feel a little better about Joe eating dirt and climbing up on the changing table. You can read it here.

7. Joe got his first professional haircut on Good Friday! There's nothing like sharing in Christ's sorrowful Passion than holding down a screaming, fighting, stubborn toddler while a woman with scissors comes near his head!

The before shot. He's happy to be in a Cars chair!

Getting a little suspicious, but his very first lollipop is distracting him...

But not for long! We had to go to a big-kid chair and have me hold him...

The after shot. He's happy now that the demon lady with sharp things is gone and he got another lollipop!

Have a wonderful weekend, y'all!

Happy Easter!

I hope you all had a very blessed Easter Sunday. Ryan and I got to enjoy a very fulfilling Mass because Joe slept through the whole thing! It has been many many months since he has done that! We had to sit in the very front row, so maybe that had something to do with it?

Anywho, our Easter was very chaotic, but simply lovely.

Praying that you all continue to feel Christ's victory in your life. God bless!

As much as I complain...

... my son is pretty much the light of my life. Check out these photos from our Sloppy Joe night. He sure has a dazzling smile! Now do you see why I feel guilty about losing my patience with him!?

Not gonna smile... not gonna smile...

OK! Cheeeeeeeeese!

OK, stop now. I'm eating.

I will destroy you if you don't put down the camera.

He might be ornery, but he's a cutie pie!

Toddler Terror and Mommy Guilt

I remember the days of being a first-time mommy of a newborn. I was scared crapless. I was absolutely paranoid of SIDS. I was heartbroken over Joe's acid reflux and seeing him projectile vomit everything he had just nursed down. Was he too warm? Too cold? I know there was a time or two I called my mom in tears in sheer exhaustion and frustration.

I never thought I would think those nerve-wracking days of having a newborn would seem like cake compared to dealing with Joe as a 19 month old.

There are things I expect out of a toddler boy. Just this weekend he took a shovel and started using it as a spoon to eat dirt. He licked the bubble wand repeatedly. He picked up a spider and handed it to me. He climbed up on the dining room table and stood proudly. He climbed on anything and everything he could. He had a runny nose and would rub it everywhere. He rubbed dirt in his hair. He rubbed macaroni and cheese in his hair. He screamed. He threw rocks. He looked gross, but it is everything I dreamed about with having a little boy.

Yummy dirt

Insisting on climbing it himself...

Yes, he threw that.

However, these last few weeks have become quite the challenge. Joe used to be a wild child, but now he is a pure challenge. Starting at around 16 months he got a little more rambunctious. Going to Mass became a challenge. Going out to eat was a chore. Now these things are becoming practically impossible. Since we have moved I think I've called my mom every single day in tears. I thought that was supposed to happen in the first few months of becoming a mother.

Every little thing is a challenge with Joe. He fights and squirms at nearly every diaper change. It is a two person job. He hates being in the high chair. He barely eats anything I give him, unless it is junk food. Giving him medicine is a struggle. Giving him a bath is practically impossible. There are times he constantly wants to be held which is getting harder and harder for me with my pregnancy. He won't sit still and just play or read. He has to be on the run. That means I have to be on the run. We've child-proofed the crap out of this place, but he still manages to find a way to nearly break his neck. I know that parenting isn't a job one does sitting down, but just one hour with this kid and I am on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, and his scream. My Lord in heaven, he has a scream that puts Justin Bieber's fans to shame. It is loud. VERY LOUD. He's been in the screaming habit for quite some time, but I swear it is just getting louder and louder and louder. I've read to either ignore it or redirect him to something that will hopefully cause him to STOP SCREAMING! But now we live in an apartment complex so when he screams I get really really anxious. We haven't gotten any complaints (yet) and I know I shouldn't care what other people think, but it's nerve wracking. And when the neighbors above us are playing their music loud, do we really have the right to ask them to turn it down when I know that Joe's screaming probably disturbs them?

I know the move has probably really screwed with Joe. His schedule was pretty consistent when we lived at my in-law's:

10:00- Quiet time in his crib
11:00- lunch
1:30- snack
2:00- nap
5:00- supper
7:00- bed time

Now sometimes he wouldn't go to sleep right away at 7:00. On rare, difficult nights he would toss and turn until 9:00. But all this predictability is out the window. He naps at random times now. I still have his meal times the same. We've moved his bedtime to 8:00 because summer is around the corner-ish and it is so light outside. But he will not go to sleep. We've laid with him in his bed. He screams to be let out of his room. We lay with him in our bed. He screams to be let out. The only way he will sleep is if he is watching a movie. Even then sometimes he won't fall asleep until 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. I feel like I have no break. It's 6:30 a.m. to sometimes 11:00 of chasing him down, redirecting him, holding him, taking things away from him, stopping him from climbing, scolding him, cleaning up after him.... I am really at my wits end.

The worst part of it all? I really feel like a terrible mother. I am constantly losing my patience with him. I've always kind of prided myself in being a patient mother. When Joe has screamed and cried and had tantrums I've always held my cool. I can count maybe three times where I nearly lost it with him. But ever since we've moved here, I feel like I can't handle motherhood. I know there are deeper issues at hand here. I suffered from a deep depression when I was pregnant with Joe and I thank God I have an OB appointment tomorrow so I can get this issue taken care of. I swear this issue of Joe becoming a huge challenge consumes my mind. I can't get a break because he doesn't nap. Ryan thankfully takes over at night so I can have some "me" time and so I can go to bed early, but I lay in bed awake stewing over making the right choices in mothering Joe and finances, and if I'm really cut out for this SAHM thing.

I hate how I yell at him. I hate how I lose my patience. I hate how nothing seems to work, not even a swat on the hand when he is going for the electrical outlets. I feel so guilty for losing my cool. Moving from a place where he was very familiar to a completely new environment has to be hard on him. He's at that age where he is learning and exploring more and wanting his independence. Just a few days ago, after Joe climbed up his changing table I yelled at Ryan, "How can it be that the newborn stage was so much easier than this stage?!" He answered, "Because these critters think." I shouldn't be so hard on him.

I also feel guilty because there are women out there who would do anything for a child of their own and here I am complaining about my own. There are women who cradle their little toddlers who are suffering from childhood cancer. There are parents who had their children ripped from their arms during the recent tornadoes in Indiana and last year in Joplin. (Ah, geeze, why did I have to even write these sentences. Here come the waterworks...) Why do I constantly focus on the negative about Joe and not think about the joy on his face when he learned how to go down a big boy slide by himself?




Why do I focus on how exhausting it is to be Joe's mother and not the times where he comes running up to me when I'm crying and hugs me and pats my back? He actually wipes away my tears and if he has a binky in his mouth he will take it out and put it in my mouth.




I shouldn't let my anxiety and worry interfere with how I raise my son. But at this point I am confused on HOW to raise him. Joe and I spent the last few days with my mom. She now understands why I call nearly everyday in tears. Her only advice, "This too shall pass." I know this is a normal stage for Joe. I know I am not the only mother who struggles with a stubborn toddler. I know this crazy stage won't last forever and there will just be new challenges down the road. But I am so scared. The decisions I make in regards to discipline and structure will make a difference down the road. I feel like such a lazy mom when I pop in The Muppets for the 100 millionth time because Joe wants to watch it or because I need a moment of silence and peace. I see his comatose face and think that I should be doing more to engage him. I should be doing more. How can I handle two? Am I crazy to think I can handle a big family like Ryan and I have dreamed of?

Being a mother is the most important role I have. And when I feel like I'm failing at it, I feel like I am failing at everything else.

I know it will get better. I know that I am still learning. I just wish I knew what I was doing!