Fun with my sons

The other day I found a nightcrawler slinking around in the grass. As I summoned up my courage and picked it up to show my son I wondered where my childhood fearlessness had gone. I used to chase and capture craneflies. I would catch little hopping frogs without a second thought. Why is it now, after all these years, that these harmless little creatures make me cringe? Why does my face wrinkle with apprehension at the sight of a cricket or a tiny lizard?

I am challenging myself to find the wonder and adventure I once had when I was younger. I want to experience fun and excitement with my sons as they delight in exploring the little pleasures that life has to offer. So I say to you, Mother Earth, bring forth your salamanders and beetles and butterflies; send them to me so that I may enjoy their creepy awesomeness with my children.

But no spiders. I draw the line at spiders.

Oh Boy...

My oldest baby is turning three on Sunday. He's starting preschool in the fall. He's going potty on the big toilet like a big boy.

I am so proud of him in everything that he does. I wish he would always be this little. Forever my best little friend. But alas, they grow up and as much as I want to keep him wrapped up tight in my arms for eternity, I also am so excited to see where this life takes him. I can't wait to share with him his triumphs and accomplishments. And because life is not easy, I will also be here to help him back up when he falls; to comfort him and tell him not to give up... so many wonderful things are at his fingertips.

I have a feeling that if I get time alone this next week I may be a blubbering mess.


Cooper,

You are my heart; my soul.
My every breath hangs on the corner of your beautiful smile.
I want you to know, as I watch you sleep peaceful in your dreams,
that you alone are responsible for your happiness.
Only you can manifest what it is your heart truly desires.
Go for it.
Don't be afraid.
and
Never Settle.
The world is yours.

Love,
Mom

Happy wife; happy life.

When I was little I often thought about my future husband and family. I had this notion that my husband and I would be so in love and happy all the time. Our kids would be angels. Not true. It's not that easy.

I didn't realize how you can get caught in a rut; the everyday routine. Wake up, work (or in my case, take care of the kids), dinner, sleep, repeat. I often forget that I need to tend to the relationship I share with my husband.

I was able to do that today. Thing 1 was picking flowers and thing 2 was playing with toys in his stroller outside and I got to do something with my husband that we've never done before: play basketball together (or PIG, rather). I felt a renewed sense of companionship afterwards. It was the breath of fresh air I needed in our relationship. Something so simple.

Now that the weather is nice I'm hoping we can do more of this rejuvenating. Maybe swing together at a park we take the monsters to. We can play catch with a football outside when the both of the boys are sleeping. Keep it simple.

I look forward to it.

Sod off, Harvey.

There is an age old question that is asked by people all over the world. That question is: "Where do the missing socks go?". It was once thought that they disappeared to a far away land of magic and wonder. A place where unicorns frolic through sugary meadows and Tootsie Rolls grow on trees. Once this sock has gone to this mystical place we must say a little prayer for the one that's left behind because there's only one place for it to go. Sock hell; the garbage can.

side note: I once found a pair of socks trying to escape together in the pouch of a fitted sheet. You know the pouch. It's the thing that tucks around the corners of your mattress and makes it mortally impossible to fold the damn sheet appropriately. (If you can fold those things so that they fit nicely in the closet, you walk among the gods.) But alas, it was not their time to go and I returned them to the drawer which they call home.

At my house, socks don't go to the land of horny horses. No. They find a fate worse than the hell their counterparts must endure. This horrid place these unfortunate souls, I mean socks, find themselves in is none other than the mouth of Harvey. He uses his sharp teeth to tear holes in their delicate little bodies and leaves them in a sopping heap of drool in the backyard to rot a slow and painful death. Dirty, clean; it doesn't matter. Harvey doesn't discriminate.

Who is this Harvey I speak of? It is none other than this beast right here:

That is the face of wasted money. That is the face of cold feet. I have only one thing to say to that face.

Sod off, Harvey.

Life with kid(S)

When I was pregnant with my second monster- I mean son- I asked the women at my baby shower for advice on how to deal with- I mean take care of- two children. I was given some good advice. Now I would like to offer some things to look forward to, if you will, to women who are preparing for their first child. Or considering a second, because that's just as terrifying as preparing for just one.

~You will get peed on. Probably pooped on too. And puked on. Basically anything that comes out of an orifice will somehow end up on your person.

~You will bare hand a turd out of the bathtub and into the toilet. At least once. It's a right of passage.

~Oh, you're trying to nurse your baby? That's cool because your toddler needs juice. Right now. This is even worse if you're bottle feeding because you have to do this weird chin prop bottle holding thing so you can barely manage to open and close containers and pour liquid with your free hand while you're hunched over the baby in your arms.

~ You have to poop- excuse me "use the restroom". I hope you don't mind an audience because more than likely that's when your child will need to tell you or show you something they think is so freaking awesome that it can't wait.

~When you take a bath alone you may see fingers appear from under the door. This may be accompanied by "Mommy!". It's really cute, I know. Do not open that door. Don't do it. They're really hard to get rid of once they get in. Kind of like bed bugs. If you're lucky like me, your child will figure out how to take off the door handle covers and barge in anyway.

~You were going to stay up after you put the baby down to catch up on that book you were reading? Or maybe you have a show to watch? Oh, your significant other wants to spend time with you? That's convenient because your baby has conveniently picked this time to cry inconsolably.

~Be careful when you choose to drink hot beverages. Right when you're about to take a sip is when your child will excited reach up causing you to spill all over or drop your cup.

The list continues but like I said, I put the baby down and thought I could do this while he was asleep before I went to bed. I can hear him whining... Now I have to run Flash Gordon style before it turns into a melt down.

New Year Intentions

This year I'm making intentions, not resolutions. I don't resolve to do anything. I can't guarantee follow through. However, I fully intend on making some changes. I'm keeping it simple this year to insure better results. My intentions are as follows:

1. Consume a maximum of two sodas a week. (I would have said one but I need to allow myself an indulgence here and there.)

2. Allow myself to be (a little bit) selfish.

• Craft more
• Read more
• Learn how to sew

That's it. Keep-It-Simple-Stupid. This should be easy, right?

Things I've Said to My Son

1. Stop licking your brother.
2. Get your hands out of your pants.
3. Don't touch my boobs. Those aren't yours.
4. Don't put that in your mouth.
5. We don't eat out of the trash can.
6. Mommy would like to keep her clothes on.
7. Stop licking my computer screen.
8. You're a good big brother, but I don't think Landon wants his hand in your mouth.
9. Please get your toys away from the dog's butt.
10. What is that smell?

I have no doubt that as both of the boys get bigger this list will get longer. And weirder.

Placebo

This last week, I'd been feeling things that were all too familiar. Heart burn. Weird dreams. A change in sleeping patterns. After a few days of this, I realized that these things weren't going away and took a pregnancy test. At three o'clock in the morning. I knew what the result would be. Still, I was over the moon. I even woke up my husband.

I thought back to my first pregnancy. I remembered all the things that came with it; the sickness, exhaustion, dreams, heart burn, leg cramps, frequent urination. Just to name a few. I know what to expect. But I also know that every pregnancy is different. That is why, this afternoon, when I started not to feel so hot, I told myself there is no way I am sick already. Come four o'clock I was ready for bed. Again, I told myself no. You see, there is a difference between actually feeling a certain way and thinking you feel that way. I am determined to not let the stigma of pregnancy sickness get to me. Just like being in a bad mood. Take a moment, take a deep breath, and change your mindset.  

Now, If I wake up in a week with my face in the toilet, that's a different matter. I am determined to beat the sickness. Your brain can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Mind over matter, right?

Can't live with her. Can't live without her.

We finally brought my dog to our house. She's been staying at my mom's while Nick worked on the fence. The fence was fixed, so the dog made the journey. Much to my chagrin.

It was so peaceful here without her. I didn't have to worry about her needing in and out. In and out. In and out. I didn't have to make sure she ate, while also making sure Cooper didn't eat her food as well. I didn't have to make sure she didn't snap at Cooper. (Really she only snaps when provoked. If a pushy little toddler kept pulling at my feet and yanking on my hair, I think I might get a little grouchy too.) I didn't have to share my bed with my husband, sometimes son, AND a dog. I didn't have to worry about dog hair being e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. Last, but definitely not least, I didn't have to make sure her dirty little paws dug out from under the fence- like she's done so many times before. Even though she is the cause of much annoyance, she is part of the family, which brings me to yesterday's fiasco.

I let her out in the afternoon. After a while I heard her bark and figured she needed in. I finished up whatever it was I was doing at the time and opened the door to the garage. She wasn't there. I checked the back yard and called her. She didn't make a sound. It was eerily silent. Then I noticed, right there in front of me, was a hole under the fence, with little Kyla hairs stuck in the dirt. Instant dread filled my chest. We live right next to a busy entrance to a rather large mobile home park. School had just been let out, so there was quite a bit of traffic. I ran inside, texted my husband (who was out of town) and paced by the windows, hoping to see her.

Cooper and I got into the car and drove around for about 15 minutes looking for her. The whole time I'm filled with panic at the thought of finding her "sleeping" on the side of the road. My friend Chelsea and her husband came to help us search, but luckily we'd already found her. She was sitting, quite regally, in a yard behind my house, like she didn't have a care in the world. After we got back, Chelsea's husband helped me double check the fence. I locked kyla in the bathroom for a while while my heart returned to it's normal rhythm.

I guess what the moral of the story is, the dog really isn't that bad. Even though she chooses to only bark when Cooper has gone down for a nap or to bed, she really is like a second child. I'm glad she's here and that we have her back. Safely.

-If she does it again though I think her new home will be the trunk of my car.-

Settled

I feel that I can now confidently say that my house is put together enough to be classified as settled. It took a few days but I'm feeling better. Another thing I can confidently say, is that I can call myself a "housewife". I am constantly cleaning/ tidying. I even managed to get some pictures hung (with some help). I am by no means done. But getting closer every day.

My husband has also stepped into his role of home owner with pride. He's already started fixing the fence. He fixed a phone line issue for the internet. He did a minor repair in a small leak in the attic (I heard dripping on my ceiling this afternoon during a downpour) until he can get up there and do it properly.

My son has claimed the house as his. Pretty much instantly. I was impressed, I thought it would take a couple days. Then I remembered that he's a toddler and EVERYTHING is his. He even helped daddy put together the dining table last night. (He stuck a little screw driver in every hole he could find. It was quite humorous.)

Even though we are all busy bodies, we have plenty of time for each other. We eat, play, snuggle, laugh, and more together. I love being home with my boys in our humble little nest. I can't wait for the memories we are going to make.

Moving Day Eve

Tomorrow's moving day. I can't help but be totally consumed with anticipation. Do you remember when you were in elementary school and it was field trip day? I do. I would sit patiently at my desk with my sack lunch, watching the clock, counting down the seconds until it was time to go. Or how about the night before a vacation, when your mind can't stop imagining all the fun things you're going to do? That is how I feel this evening. 

We did a bit of last minute packing. Bought a few things at the store. My mind still thinks I'm missing something. (Good thing we're only moving 15 minutes away. I can pick up things I may have left behind.) My eyes are telling me it's time to hit the sheets. I'm pretty sure my body agrees, as tomorrow will be an early morning. My brain, however, is doing circles and somersaults and jumping jacks.

Considering it is 10 pm, I must listen to my eyes and at least lay in my cozy bed. Surely I will sleep at some point.  

Partners in Crime

As I lay in my bed last night, next to my human furnace, I thought about how happy I am with my life. The past four years of my life have been full of adventure, friends, and family, all of which leave me feeling blessed.   I have the greatest little boy in the history of human kind, am working on adding another munchkin to our litter and am within a few short days of closing on our first house. None of this would be possible without the wonderful man at my side that I get the privilege of calling my husband.

At four o'clock every day, I start watching the minute hand on the clock. Each tick is one minute closer to when I get to see my husband's eyes light up as he walks through the door and sees his son and I waiting for him in the living room. We play with our son, cook dinner together, and go over our days. It's at this time every day that I feel complete; when my boys and I are together, just being a family.

Bed time is something I've started to look forward to every evening. We each take part in Cooper's bed time routine, do our own things for a little bit, then get ready for bed. This is when we get "our time" (get your mind out of the gutter). We snuggle. I scratch his back. He begrudgingly warms my toes. We giggle. Then comes a kiss and "good night". Ten seconds later, after he's fallen asleep I think to myself, "This is it. This is what life is about". 

Don't get me wrong, it's not always easy. There are times he drives me absolutely nuts and I'm sure on more than one occasion he's wanted to lock me in the closet. He's been known to be sarcastic, stubborn, and sometimes abrasive. With that said, he's also the most loving, kind hearted person I know. 

You can't have happiness without struggles. You can't appreciate a smile without first having frowned. As he sleepily grabs my hand -mid snore- I can't help but wonder what life will throw at us. But I say "bring it on". There's no better man to weather life's storms with than the one laying next to me every night. 

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep...

Why is it so easy for men to fall asleep? It is a scientific conundrum to me how a man can fall asleep as soon as his eyes are closed but then we women are up for at least 10 minutes while our brain goes on random journeys into the unknown. 

Last night, after my husband said the usual, "Good night, I love you.", I counted how long it took for him to go to sleep. FIFTEEN SECONDS! I must say, I am truly amazed. I'm quite jealous actually. Here's what it sounds like in my brain while I'm trying to sleep:

"Oof, that was a long day. A nap would have been nice. Why did Cooper only sleep for 45 minutes today? It's going to be an early day tomorrow, cause he went to sleep before 8 pm. I should really go to sleep so I'm prepared... Wait, what was the date today? Oh my god... it's the 6th! I hope I have time to finish Christmas presents. I only have to make two more. Should I do it before or after we move into the house. Ugh, the house. If that falls through, I'm going to go absolutely nuts. Don't think like that, you'll close on the 15th like planned. I wonder how I'm going to decorate it? I have lots of DIY art ideas. I should really do those Christmas presents first though. I'm not going to get anything done unless I get some sleep first..."

I might do the above 2 or 3 times with different subjects before sleep. It's a process that takes at least 5 minutes. I wish I knew the secret to turning it off. It would be nice to go right to sleep like a normal person.

The Image of a Mother

I was reading a facebook post this evening in which a friend of mine, also a mother, said something about physical appearance and the difference in what other people see and what she sees. It really validated my own feelings and made me feel better about myself and my own "physical appearance". In her post, she mentioned not taking the time to curl her hair or do her makeup because the time she spent doing that, she could be spening with her daughter instead. FINALLY, someone else with my train of thought.

I asked my husband the other day, "Does it bother you that I wear sweats all the time? Am I a slob because I don't do my hair and wear makeup?". Bless my husband's heart, he said, "What? No. It's just clothes. I want you to be comfortable". This was music to my ears because to me, wearing jeans is "dressing up" nowadays. I spend all day playing with my son. Sweats allows greater range of motion when I'm rolling around on the floor or chasing him around the house. Sneakers seem like a smarter choice when participating in the "chase me around the store" marathon. 

Makeup and pretty hair also seems like a waste of time to me. First of all, I'm in my house with my son. I'm not wasting makeup or time doing my hair that nobody's going to see. Secondly, I'm pretty sure my son doesn't give a rip what color my lips are or if my lashes are coated. My husband says I'm beautiful without all of that, so why bother?

I guess what I mean to say is, I'm a mother down to my soul. I prefer sweatpants with a little dirt on them from rolling around with my boy. I actually don't mind my shirt to have a little bit of snot on it from my son's runny nose or stained from the time he sneezed with a mouth full of juice. I prefer the look of play time, snuggle time, and wrinkles from nap time to heels, skirts and a fancy face. When my time comes, I don't want my family to remember my choice of clothes or the perfume I wore. I want them to remember the times I made mud pies and finger painted with pudding on the kitchen floor. In the end it's about the time we spend together. Not the way we looked doing it.

Crafting

I like to think I'm crafty. I see a picture of a DIY project and think, "Easy peasy". Shortly after this thought crosses my mind I'm in my car on the way to the craft store. I get really excited for my little project and can picture the look of sheer pleasure on the face of the recipient when I give them their homemade gift. In fact, yesterday I put together my first crafty Christmas present.

Upon completion, and with a heart full of pride, I set the final product up for inspection. Instantly, my face fell. I'm pretty sure I heard my heart shatter when it hit the floor. It was off center. There was no way to fix it. Hot glue and canvas cannot be fixed with ease. Now I cannot, with good conscience, give this to someone. (I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to crafting.) It's back to square one, with less than 6 weeks until Christmas. When am I supposed to find time?

I have two more projects to do this year.  I'm hoping I can pull them off because I like feeling crafty.  Depending on how they turn out, I might just end up being content with my role as consumer and let other people do the creative stuff. If that happens, I will have a bunch of craft supplies to give away. *sigh*

In Raw Form

I love writing. Well, I love putting words and ideas to paper. The actual act of writing makes the muscles in my hand cramp. And paper is a finite resource. Maybe what I really love doing is blabbing my mouth. Yes, that sounds a little more accurate. What better way to blab than on a blog?

Let's think about this for a moment, shall we? This will benefit the both of us, really. I can satisfy my need to regurgitate all of my thoughts and ideas and jokes and such onto the world. You get to be entertained without even hearing me speak. (There are some people who would prefer that my lips sometimes stay shut- one of them being my husband.) And the best part is, no pain for my hand and no unnecessary slaughter of trees needs to happen in the process. 

So, here we go. Post one of many. My apologies in advance.