Taking the Statistical Bullet

Words They Say

2012-01-30T21:02:00.001-08:00

"Willisms"

"Awful Tower" - Eiffel Tower (and I am impressed this even enters the vocabularly of a 3 1/2 year old)

"Eye Grows" (which rhymes with brows, just said with a G sound) - Eye Brows

"Will wants/likes/is/needs/has to" - Will is said in place of I. He is apparently of royal descent.

"Froggy" - Foggy - I love it when we head out in the morning and he tells me that it's "froggy outside, Mommy!"

"The Donald's" - McDonald's

"Albert's Store" - Albertson's (grocery store chain)

"Emmanese"

"Tinky" - Binky

"Whew Ellie" - Where is Ellie (her lovely)? And the answer better be that she is nearby, or it is TROUBLE.

"Fifford" - Clifford (the Big Red Dog)

"Peaz" - Please

"Whad u doin, Mommy?" - What are you doing, Mommy? She actually walked up to me as I was mopping the kitchen floor the other day and asked me this. I couldn't believe it.

"Luh Lu" - Love you - my favorite things she says!

"Corky" - Courtney - my friend who does childcare for us

Wow.

2012-01-21T21:58:00.000-08:00

This blog used to be a place that I visited daily. When I was TTC, pregnant, and a new mom (and then again a TTC, pregnant, and a new mom to two), I was here often.

For those of you who don't read my private blog, I just wanted to say, I am sorry. I have turned into one of "those" bloggers. You know, who gets their happy ending and disappears.

For those of you who do read my private blog, you know that my happy ending has a decided twist. I am unbelievably blessed with my two miracle babies, but there have been some unexpected twists and turns along the way.

Then again, who doesn't have unexpected events in their life?

Who doesn't plan for things to be one way and then have to deal when they decidely go another?

I am not "special" in my discovery that sometimes, life just ain't fair, what we planned for, or what we dreamed of. And I am well aware of that fact.

Anyway, I am back. It's been awhile, and there is so much to update you on.

Will.. . he is 3 1/2. Not sure how that even happened. THREE AND A HALF. It's insane. He can carry on full conversations which include FULL ARGUING. He is delightful and sweet in one moment and whiny and obstinate in the next. My heart explodes with love for him and I am down-on-my-knees-grateful for the opportunity to be his mother.

Emma . . . 18 months old. Seriously? Really? YES. She talks up a storm. In full sentences. She sings, she laughs, she plays, she captures my heart daily. Her hair is curly and the ringlets that are starting form break my heart with their cuteness. She also has this adorable gap between her two front teeth that she will hate someday when she looks at pictures. But right now? It is precious beyond measure. I can't believe I got this lucky and get to parent this amazing little girl.

My job. . . well. I work full time. I miss my kiddos full time. But there is an element of freedom in working outside of the home that I never expected to enjoy, but I do in some way. I am not ashamed of this. It keeps me going. But it was an unexpected gift.

Do I feel guilty? OF COURSE. I believe parenthood, in general, is a lot about feeling guilty and wondering if we are doing the right thing.

I try to rely on my dad's advice. I do my best, each and every day. I love the HECK out of these precious beings and make important decisions with their well-being top of mind. When I am not working, I dedicate myself to spending that time with them.

The guilties emerge, as they probably always will, but I am doing my best. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.

I want to - NO, NEED TO - be the best for these babies. They deserve my all. After everything we endured to have them, I know how precious they are. I know how many moms are still waiting for their miracles.

Each day, I thank GOD for their existance. I thank GOD for the opportunity to love, hug, snuggle, kiss, and dote on these little beings. And sometimes, YES, I even thank GOD for my struggles with infertility. It reminds me, daily, how precious all of this is, how miraculous all of this is.

Will and Emma are my miracles.

Thank you, GOD.

Happy Holidays

2011-12-16T16:55:00.001-08:00

I just wanted to put a note on this blog, wishing all of my blog friends and their families a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I plan to post more in the New Year, but in the meantime, just know we are well and hope that you are, too!

Not the End

2011-11-25T09:43:00.000-08:00

I took a little break without really intending to, and I am honestly not sure how often I will be posting here in the immediate future. But I always hated it when a blogger just. . . stopped. It's like leaving the final chapter off of a novel.

So, here is where we are today. We have one amazing three year old little boy and one incredible one year old little girl. When it comes to parenthood, very little has actually turned out how I expected. Conception, pregnancy, delivery, post partum, a colicky newborn, the Terrible Twos and the Even Worse Threes. . . it was all far different than I had dreamed. I wouldn't change it for anything, because the way that it turned out was the way it was meant to be and led me to the babies that I have now. And all of those negative aspects of parenthood I just listed? They pale in comparison to the absolutely incredible things about parenthood that I can't even begin to put into words.

As I am writing this, it sounds like I am saying good-bye and I am not. I anticipate posting more here in the future, but I just wanted to put here how grateful I am for each of you that have stopped by this place. I have been offered hope, solace, comfort, camraderie, excitement, congratulations, and friendship here. I have had strangers become true friends and been invited to share incredible journeys with many more. This blog turned into so much more than just my happy ending, as I initially intended. . . it turned into a part of my life that keeps going.

So, though I might be more quiet here now, I am here. And still so incredibly blessed and thankful to share with and know each of you.

There Are Perks To This Job

2011-10-26T10:22:00.001-07:00

After dropping the kids off this morning, I got picked up by an Enterprise representative and got the keys to my very own. . . GROCERY GETTER! That's right, my bridge rental is a minivan!

Full disclosure: I have been secretly jonesin for a minivan since, one by one, my other friends have succumbed to their increasing family size (and gear to take with said families) and gotten minivans. I have looked with envy at the various options. The storage! The third row of seats! The doors that automatically slide open and shut! SWOON.

I mean, c'mon. There is a reason that people buy minivans. And it isn't for the cool factor. It's for the convenience. And the ROOM for people and their things.

And it does have satellite radio! So you can rest assured that I will literally be rocking the Mommy Mobile.

I have a feeling they are gonna have to drag me kicking and screaming from this one in a few weeks. My real company car has a lot to live up to!

First Day

2011-10-24T12:29:00.000-07:00

I have a fairly non-traditional job. Because of that, today really wasn't bad as far as first days go.

I didn't have to meet my boss until 11:00 AM. So I fed the kids breakfast and took them over to C's house at 9:30. I hung out with her until a little after 10, just getting them settled in. Will has been so excited to go stay with C and leaving him was no issue. Emma has been very clingy lately, so I expected a bit of Mama Drama from her, but she was engrossed in a book and her binky and she didn't seem disturbed. A text from C assured that all was well after I left.

I changed into some professional clothes and headed to meet my boss. He bought me a cup of coffee, we signed some paperwork, chatted about training and other logistics, and then I was on my way home. I pulled up just as the FedEx truck did. Four large boxes were being stacked on my porch. My computer, printer/fax, and study materials had arrived.

I spent some time getting my computer fired up, set up my voicemail, and then had to call in for a new hire conference call. Basic stuff, kind of boring, nothing surprising. . . except that the training schedule is slightly different than I been told that it would be and I will be gone an extra week in December that I wasn't aware of, on top of another week I will be gone for a regional meeting. So that was a bit of a "gulp" moment, but it is what it is. Nothing I can do about it now.

There were some pleasant suprises along the way. I got a call from corporate fleet services with my rental car information. I get my Blackberry tomorrow. Those are nice perks to be sure.

There was another conference call a bit later on with my new sales district with the obligatory "Welcome to the Team" introduction. Then there was a lot of discussion about sales and metric attainment and business planning. Most of it went way over my head, but that's to be expected.

Through out it all, my house was so. . . quiet. It's funny that they are so close (steps across the street), yet seem so far away. A few times, I found myself thinking that I was hearing Emma or Will upstairs, since the only time I am downstairs by myself is when they are napping. I would strain for a minute, listening, and then realize. . . they aren't here.

And that was it. I picked up the kids at 4:30. Not really bad for a first day. It still feels so surreal.

Last Day

2011-10-21T07:52:00.001-07:00

Well, of course, technically, Sunday will be my last day before work. But today is my final non-work-work-day.

I don't really know how to describe my feelings today. Most of all, I think I am just ready to get this party started. The anticipation of the past two months has been brutal.

Will has been an angel this week. Seriously, his behavior has been a complete 180 from last week. He has been helpful, kind, funny, and sweet. Whatever was going on for those few weeks has, for the time being, seemed to have eased. It has made this last week even more wonderful and yet bittersweet, because there have been so many moments that were exactly as I pictured life as a SAHM would be. We baked cookies, did crafts, snuggled on the couch and watched a movie, and went on a few walks.

Emma was teething last week and earlier this week, so she has been super-clingy and all about The Mama. But she seems to have gotten her teething out of the way, too, and the last couple of days, she has been her usual, sunny self. She has such a sense of humor and is already my little prankster.

I definitely am feeling melancholy today. I know that this next phase of our lives will bring good and bad. But being a SAHM wasn't all sunshine and roses. There were days when I felt lonely, where I felt as if I was living in that "Groundhog's Day" movie. There were days when these kiddos brought me to tears, nights when M would come home and I would hand him a baby and walk outside to sit in the car for a few minutes (Mommy Time Out). There were definitely good days and bad days.

I am excited to be more financially stable. We have medical bills that need paying, a car that needs new tires, and so many things around the house that need fixing/replacing. It will be nice to be able to do all of these things and to get caught up. It will be nice to go the mailbox without cringing at the stack of bills inside.

I know our family will make it through this and find a new normal. Honestly, I am aware that it will likely be hardest on me (and possibly Emma). Nothing much changes for M, except for when I need to travel, but that is pretty minimal after I am done with training. Will is super excited about going to his friend's house to play every day. Emma is definitely going through separation anxiety right now, but we have been purposefully spending a lot of time at my friend's house this last month, so she would feel more comfortable there. I think she might have a few minutes of "Where are you going, Mommy?" each morning for the first few days, but I think she will acclimate quickly.

And as long as they are okay. . . I will be, too.

Just When You Can't Take Anymore

2011-10-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

I have noticed a definite pattern with kids. . . THERE IS NO PATTERN.

Just when you think your baby/toddler/child is sleeping through the night, they start waking up.

Just when you can't take another night of being woken up several times, they start sleeping through.
Just when they are loving mashed potatoes and gravy with meatloaf for dinner, they start complaining when you make it for them.

Just when you have lost the recipe for the meatloaf, they ask for it.

And just when you are about to call the pediatrician for a consult with a child psychologist, because either your three year old is a sociopath OR he has been abducted by aliens. . .

He returns.

The sweetness, love, and light you have counted on returns.

The tantrums disappear.

Life is strangely peaceful.

And then the one year old gets a cold and starts breaking through their one year molars. . .

and it's back to the starting line.

Separating Anxiety

2011-10-14T07:33:00.000-07:00

As the days dwindle on this phase of my life, I am feeling all sorts of sentimental. Being a SAHM has been one of the greatest joys and privileges of my life. It was my life-long dream and the fact that it's over . .. I honestly still can't believe it.

I know this next move is what is best for our family on many different levels. Like most things in life, there will be some not-so-great-things that come with it. I am both trying to stay in this spot and reach forward all at once.

I remember right before Emma was born, I experienced these same feelings. I knew everything was about to change. I knew it would be for the best and I knew it was a change that I wanted. But. . . it was still so hard to let go of the life I had been leading, knowing the way it would alter my relationship with both M and Will, knowing that things would never be the same. While I was incredibly excited to get on with the show, I also tried to cling to those last few days, make the very best of them. I remember the frustration I felt, that I should have been able to "do" those days better, but the exhaustion of pregnancy and my nerves challenged me, and those last few days felt chaotic and emotionally raw.

Well, here we go again. I am clinging to these last few days, knowing that our lives are about to change, that things will never be the same. With Emma going through a bout of teeting (three molars at ONCE) and Will going through The Threes, I definitely feel as if these days could be "done" better. I am nervous myself, wondering how I am going to manage the fine art of working outside of the home and parenting two children. Oh, and toss being a wife and CEO of All Things House in there, too. I know millions of people do it every day, but I know it is challenging. I know there will be good days and bad days and lots of in between days.

The only "cure" for this last time was just to DO IT; just to have Emma and get on with the new life. Anticipation is the worst emotion to me, because there is no action in it. Once I am started, we will all have the adjustment phase and then we can react to the challenges that we meet along the way. But we will be doing it, rather than planning for it or just thinking about it.

I think the biggest thing that I need to keep in mind is that, no matter what, my kids will still be my kids. I will still have a relationship with them, and even though it will look a bit different than it does now, that doesn't mean it isn't a good relationship - that it can't even be a better relationship! I just need to really, really believe that.

Follow Up

2011-10-12T14:25:00.001-07:00

Lest anyone think that poor Will is still locked up in his bedroom, crying, he came out after his TWO HOUR tantrum yesterday and actually was a reasonable child for the rest of the day. We had a pleasant day. Since he had tantrumed through breakfast and refused his waffle and sausage, he was starving at lunchtime and ate almost an entire box of macaroni and cheese, plus chicken nuggets, and corn. He then took a nice, long nap, which allowed both of us some time to restore.

I read each of your comments (and the half dozen e-mails that I got) and I am both grateful that I am not the only one to encounter these issues, and also eager to try some new strategies. What we are currently doing isn't really working well, so I am always eager to try something different.

I do try to help Will express his feelings and attempt to empathasize with him through his tantrums. Especially when he first starting having these drastic tantrums that were so unlike what we had experienced before. I figured he was sick. . . or tired. . . or having an out of body experience. Over time, I have found that the problem is that though he will respond to that. . . he will then ramp up again when he realizes that he still isn't getting what he wants.

If I can catch him before he gets to the "Red Zone" of his tantrum, I might have about a ten percent chance of distracting or redirecting him. So, I do try. But. . . again, it's all in the timing. And if it is something he is absolutely set on, then it doesn't matter what I do to try and change things up. Putting him in his room is really just the best for everyone. It's best for him because it seems to be where he can calm himself down the best and it's best for me because I can keep my cool when I get some time away from the intense screaming. Also, please know, I don't just leave him in there by himself for the entire time. I go and check on him from time to time to make sure he is okay. I tell him he is welcome to come out of his room any time he is done crying. And when he comes out (done with his tantrum), I greet him as if he has been at sea for seven years. I tell him how happy I am that he is done crying and I immediately give him lots of positive attention.

As far as preventing a tantrum, goes. . . I give him a lot of choices through out the day ("Do you want waffles or pancakes for breakfast?", "Do you want to wear the digger shirt or the choo choo shirt?","Do you want to go to Safeway or WinCo to grocery shop?", etc.) and I don't care that he picks a specific utensil, shirt, crayon, store, toy, etc. The only problem with that is sometimes his requests are inappropriate or I simply cannot give him what he wants (my friend wasn't even home yesterday) and then. . . well, tantrum here we go.

I should point out that, in between tantrums and arguments, Will is still a wonderful little boy. His preschool teacher always compliments his "big heart" and tells me that when a fellow classmate hurts themself, he is the first to put down whatever he is doing and run to his injured friend to pat their back and ask the teacher for an "ice pack" for them.

The reason that this behavior tears at my heart the most is not the headache it causes me. It is the fact that he seems so desperately unhappy. I hate to see him so sad, angry, and frustrated. Up until a few weeks ago, if I had just one word to describe Will, it would have been "HAPPY". Now, I guess I would have to use the word "ANGRY", and that just makes me feel awful. It also makes me take a swim in the sea of Mom-guilt. After all, we are in the middle of a big change as a family. I have been gone more lately and will definitely be gone more very shortly. Has this shift caused this, or would it have happened regardless? No way to know, and soon this new way of life will become our new normal, and so if that's the cause, it should fade. If it's simply The Threes, well, that will fade, too. So, we'll never know. The important thing will be that he does settle down a bit and we are able to help him manage his temper and frustrations more effectively as time goes on.

In any case, I appreciate your wisdom, candor, and support. This parenting thing isn't easy and I am so glad to have you along for the ride. The hardest thing about being a mom (for me) is when I feel as if my kids are unhappy and I don't know how to make it better for them.

So, What Is SO Bad?

2011-10-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

****DISCLAIMER**** I apologize, in advance, for the liberal use of italics, bolded font, and capitalization (and some words? I used all three!) in this post. When you have a three year old, you will understand.

People always warned me about The Threes. I watched two of my close friends go through it with their kids recently. It didn't seem that bad from the sidelines, but they sure talked about it a lot. I noticed their kids seemed a bit more oppositional, listening a bit less, perhaps a tantrum or two more than usual, but they still seemed pretty "normal" to me. I knew, however, that I had heard from enough people that Three Sucks, so there had to be something to it.

So, at about six weeks into The Threes, I can tell you what is so bad about them. Perhaps you can prepare yourself better than I did. Probably not. But at least you'll know you are not alone.

It's the fact that, almost overnight, your sweet, aquiescent toddler (okay, so Will was stubborn before, but it was manageable) turns into their own person. And they don't want to do anything that you would like them to, just because you want them to do it (even if it's fun! even if it's something that they would usually want to do!). And they want to do everything themselves from putting on their shoes to pouring the milk to going to the potty.

What's so bad about that, you ask? Well, in and of itself, it is a very good thing. Having his own opinion about things, wanting to do things for himself, increasing independence. . . it's all wonderful. IN THEORY.

In PRACTICE, however, it is very, very tiring because it is NON STOP. From the moment Will gets up until the moment he goes to bed EVERYTHING is an argument. And it's so wearing, when the arguments are about things like which specific spoon he wants to use for his oatmeal, which specific pair of underwear he wants to wear that day, which grocery store he wants to go to, and you'd better believe it won't be the spoon, underwear, or grocery store I had in mind.

As a result of this, everything takes longer than it should, because you have to plan for this opposition. Sure, it doesn't always happen, but it happens enough that I have to be prepared. I had our "leaving the house" routine timed to perfection and now that's all screwed up. And things that used to be predictable and enjoyable are no longer such, because in the middle of, say, the tubby, he is suddenly going to want a certain type of bubble bath that we don't have. So all of a sudden, he is tantruming for this bubble bath that I don't even know that they carry at Target anymore. And even if I did have it, right that very minute? I can't give in to the tantrum, so he can't have it anyway. BUT!!! If I buy that bubble bath the next time we are at Target so this won't happen again? Nope, it's not that easy. Because when I use that bubble bath, he will want the one that I used the last time but didn't replace. BECAUSE HE WANTED THIS ONE! Two tubbies. Ruined. And tubbies were one of my go-to parenting tactics before when a day was going off the rails. Nothing is sacred anymore.

AND? Everything is dramatic. Before, if Will wanted something and it wasn't something he was going to get, I could distract him. That no longer works. And if he tantrumed before, it was a brief affair that was usually over in minutes. Now, once he gets something in his mind (yesterday, it was that he wanted to go potty at a specific store that we passed on the way home), it is GAME OVER. And the tantrums will last for thirty minutes or more and they are intense, with him turning purple with rage and screaming to wake the dead.

I am also dead set that we NEVER give into a tantrum. So even if he is asking for something that I would give him if he asked nicely, if he asks rudely and then starts tantruming, he is not getting it. So a lot of his tantrums are even more ridiculous because I would have given him, for example, asnack. . . if only he had given me a chance to say yes!

I generally ignore his tantrums. For example, right now? He has been in his room for over forty-five minutes. He is screaming. Why? Well, because he wants to go to a friend's house and stay there while I "go to work". As that isn't happening today, he is very upset. Once he gets to this point, there is no going back. There is no putting him in the car and making him go do something fun, because he won't be or have any fun. And I don't want to reward the behavior. So, Emma and I are downstairs in her playroom, while he is upstairs. Screaming. He came downstairs about five minutes ago and seemed to have calmed down a bit, but he revved right back up when he asked to go to the friend's house and I said, "Not today."

And the sad part is that Emma and I are dressed and ready to go. We were going to go to the kids museum and I had hoped to sneak in a Target trip. He loves to go to Target and get a soft pretzel (well, he used to, not sure where Three Year Old Will lands on the soft pretzel), so it used to be a fun errand. But now, the morning is being wasted on this tantrum.

In addition to the daily struggles, sleep is also disrupted. All of my friends found that night wakings and bedtime struggles started (or got markedly worse) at three. At two weeks into three, it happened to Will, too. My solid sleeper, three hour a day napper, never fights bedtime. . .is now waking two to three times a night, fighting and/or skipping naps, and bedtime has become a struggle. So, we are all getting less sleep, which of course, makes the daily struggles worse. It's a rather disturbing catch-22. Because, as I learned back when Will was a newborn, sleep begets sleep. . . and a lack of sleep makes everyone grumpier. Despite his advancing independence, however, Will fails to have this little thing called reasoning down yet. So I can't exactly say to him, "Hey, buddy, if you kept napping and sleeping, you might just feel a bit better during the day. And I know I would."

The other day, I was talking about this with another friend. Her children are a bit older and I wasn't really around them when they were in The Threes. I told her that I didn't remember her kids being like this. She assured me that they were, but I wasn't around it enough to really see it. And, she added, that if it made me feel any better, she thought Will seemed "normal" and like a nice little kid. Which did, actually, make me feel better. . . for about five minutes, until the next argument came up.

So, I think to sum it up: The Threes are exhausting because they are non-stop. It feels like I am in the middle of psychological warfare with a three year old. Who is sometimes winning.

It's Official

2011-10-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

I got my official offer today. I had been expecting it for awhile. I start October 24. Wow, just a little over two weeks away and everything changes.

***

Will continues to be three.

I know people warned me, but can I be honest here?

Three? It sucks. The tantrums are beyond anything I ever imagined.

There are moments when he is still my sweet Little Man. And there are moments when I don't even recognize myself as I parent him.

***

Emma took her first step (notice the singular) on August 21 and.. . nothing since.

One September 21, while I was on the phone wishing my dad a happy birthday, she walked across the living room. And she hasn't looked back. Today, I would call her a full-fledged walker.

She is in my favorite age. The Sweet Spot, I guess you could say. She has some personality, some attitude, some independence. But she still wants to please.

***

My life is in contrasts and changes lately. And I don't deal well with either. But I am managing, just like my little ones.

One haphazard step at a time.

I'm An Auntie!

2011-09-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

My sister delivered her first son, my nephew!, yesterday. It was a bit scary of a start (his APGAR was 1 at birth) and he had some NICU time after an emergency C-section, but he seems to be doing well now.

I won't get to meet him for awhile, as she doesn't want me to come visit until her in-laws leave. So, I have to wait a bit, but I am so excited to snuggle and love on him!

She just missed delivering him on the anniversary of her miscarriage. It is so funny to think that, last year at this time, we were all mourning the loss of her first pregnancy and now we are celebrating the arrival of Ben. I love miracles.

Again

2011-09-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

My friend is miscarrying.

Again.

Now, I Just Need To Have A Party

2011-09-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

I love having "go to" meals and appetizers, special things that I make when I am entertaining or celebrating. Lately, I am going more towards finger foods and apps when we are having people over. It is less work and people seem to really enjoy having a spread to dig into. It seems like a lot of work, but it really isn't, and most things can be made ahead of time so that you aren't doing a lot of work in the kitchen while everyone is enjoying themselves. It also tends to be kid-friendly and you can have a mix of healthy and indulgent choices.

Here is my standard appetizer spread that I have been serving lately. No, I don't always do everything here, but I usually do most of it. I mean, c'mon, variety is the spice of life, right?! What do you like to serve people?

Baked brie with sliced apples (I wrap and dress the brie that morning, and then just pop it into the oven about fifteen minutes before people arrive. The smell is intoxicating. I slice the apples the morning of as well and lightly toss them in lemon juice to keep them from browning.)
White bean dip (goes with the crackers and veggies) (The dip is best when made a day or two before to really allow the flavors to meld.)
Assorted whole wheat crackers and sliced cheeses
Black bean salsa and tortilla chips (I make the salsa, minus the avocado, the day before and add the avocado right before the party so it doesn't turn brown.)
Assorted raw veggies and a homemade buttermilk ranch dressing (the veggies also dip into everything else) (Again, this dressing is best made at least a day before.)
Spinach Dip* (the crackers and veggies both are great dippers, you can also do thin slices of baguette) (Another dip that is best when made a day or two in advance - sense a theme here?)
Mini meatballs in a sweet n sour sauce (I love these meatballs, they are amazing and it makes serving so easy - just add the sauce (and I have also totally cheated and used bottled sauce before, too) and warm them in the crock pot. Done. But, if you want to make your own, you can make them and then freeze them to use when you need them. Equally easy.)
Steak Canapes (You can make the steak and onions ahead of time and then assemble the canapes and have them waiting on a baking sheet when your guests arrive.)
Assorted fruits and a fruit dip (if I am feeling really fancy, I will make fruit skewers)
I also like putting out dishes of truly kid-friendly things like chex mix, goldfish crackers and raisins. I find that the adults indulge, too!

So, as you can see, pretty much everything can be made the day or two before. . . and just put it out, warm it up, and dig in. I am now officially hungry.

*I do play with this recipe, but it is my favorite "base" recipe. The dash of hot sauce makes the dish. I use double the spinach listed and I also use marinated artichoke hearts. It gives it that extra yum!

Mismatched, Mishmashed

2011-09-04T13:25:00.000-07:00

It's so funny the spot I find myself in now. It's an odd place to be, where I don't quite fit in anywhere.

I am not quite a working mom yet. I am still home with the kids. I won't even be back at work for over a month.

I am not quite a SAHM anymore, either. My SAHM-friends are already making plans that won't include me. They aren't being exclusive, but it's a fact that I won't be able to sign up for Mommy n' Me classes that will go until December and I won't be able to help start a co-op art class that probably won't get off the ground until after the New Year. The reality is that our lives are already separating. We will remain friends, but things will change.

I have tried to stay in the moment, but it's also very hard to see all of the exquisitely tiny things that children do every day and know that soon, I won't be seeing them. Like Will waking up from a nap with bedhead and half-closed eyes, yet reaching for me for a sweaty, little boy-hug. Like making a tent in his bed and snuggling down with him and Emma and a pile of books and stopping to notice the perfection of their little feet. And though it sounds dreadfully "1950 called and would like its housewife back", I have enjoyed the little things along the way. I enjoy the homemaking part of homemaking. I love preparing dinner, I love slicing vegetables for a salad, baking a cake for dessert, lighting candles that smell of cinnamon and pumpkin, and tidying the house before M gets home (but I draw the line at fluffing my hair, washing the kids' faces, or making him a martini - he doesn't like them). It's not that I won't get to do these things anymore, but I know it, too, will change.

Lest I wax too poetically, let me also assure you that I have felt frustrated on days with no schedule, where I seem busy all day with nothing to show for it at the end. Days when dinner is the only thing burning and the house is a disaster when M walks in (and I am drinking a martini). The days when Will throws a legendary tantrum, that ends with me yelling at him and feeling badly and wondering if they wouldn't be better off with someone professionally trained on how to deal with a toddler. There have been days when I have looked at the long-neglected suits in my closet, packed carefully away in their garment bags, and thought longingly of putting one on and feeling that "I'm someone" feeling that you get when you slide them on (people treat you very differently when you wear a suit and have hair that is styled and make up that took more than two minutes to glob on).

So, as you can see, I continue to live in this in-between world, partially longing to stay where I am and partially excited to venture forth. October feels forever away and tomorrow all at once.

* * *

This returning to work thing is complicated. I have many thoughts and feelings that I can't share here in this public space. I can't really discuss much about work on here and I have come to the conclusion that it will be best if I have a password protected blog for readers that are interested in knowing more about our decision and personal things about my transition to a working mother. I will be keeping this blog open for general stories about Will and Emma, my continued thoughts on parenting after infertility and loss, and lighthearted reads about our lives together. If you are interested in following the less-public version of the story, please either leave a comment with your name and e-mail address or e-mail me with the information.

Peyton

2011-09-01T07:25:00.000-07:00

I have spoken briefly of Peyton here before. Last November, a former coworker's little girl was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor.

I remember the moment I found out. I had been talking to another former coworker and she asked if I had heard about Peyton. She was fuzzy on the details, but knew the diagnosis was BAD. I was FB friends with Chad still, so I hopped over to his Wall where I found out the name of Peyton's tumor, a Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (DIPG), I did some research and found out that it was a death sentence.

Slowly, I came to learn more about DIPG and what it means when a child is diagnosed with it. I have watched as Peyton and her family have traveled a horrific road that is beyond comprehension.

There have been some bright spots along the way. Elizabeth Rudkin has to be one of the most amazing, courageous, composed women I have ever met. She is an inspiration. While caring for a terminally ill daughter, she has also somehow found the time to establish Peyton's Ranch, a non-profit matching sick kids with comfort animals. She also threw a "launch party" for Peyton that was the most amazing event I have ever been to (Of course, I overheard her tell someone that it had to be: It was Peyton's Sweet Sixteen, Prom, and Wedding all rolled into one event. Heart. Breaking.). Seeing something good coming from this tragedy does have a way of soothing broken hearts.

But nothing can soothe those who love and care for Peyton right now. She is dying. Watching a child die. . . there are no words.

Again, there are some bright spots. If you have a box of tissue handy, watch this video. Peyton's seventh birthday was Tuesday this is a video a friend put together of the day's events, which included a visit from one of Peyton's favorite artists, Mike Wagoner. What amazes me most about this video is what has inspired me this entire time: Elizabeth's calmness, ability to smile, and the fact that, despite being incredibly ill, Peyton looks so peaceful on her mommy's lap. There are moments in my day where, for whatever reason, I lose sight of what is truly important. Watching Elizabeth and Peyton together puts that right back into perspective.

In any case, if you are the praying time, please pray for Peyton and her family. If you are the positive thinking type, please send those vibes to them. They need them.

Introducing Skittle

2011-08-30T12:30:00.000-07:00

Last week, I noticed Will seemed to be talking to "himself" more often. I also noticed that these conversations seemed a bit one-sided, as if there was someone else in the room with them.

Turns out, there "is".

Allow me to introduce Skittle (I asked him and he doesn't need a blog pseudonym).

After careful investigation, we have thus far concluded that Skittle is:

1) 2 years old (He was 1 year old, but he shares a birthday with Will, so he is now 2.)

2) A boy.

3) Residing in the toy room.

4) Not a fan of cereal - he prefers hot dogs (with ketchup!) for breakfast.

5) Apparently responsible for an entire roll of toilet paper being unrolled while Will was innocently using the bathroom.

So far, Skittle is mostly well-behaved and we are enjoying his antics with Will. It is amazing what their minds come up with.

Doppler

2011-08-29T17:45:00.001-07:00

Does anyone have a doppler they are interested in selling? No, it isn't for me, it is for a friend! That's right, the friend I talked about in this post is pregnant again. Please keep everything crossed that this time she ends up with a RLB!!!

When Does It Get Easier?

2011-08-28T08:42:00.000-07:00

So.

A decision has been made.

I am returning to work in October.

And I feel as if I can't breathe.

Every time I look at my kids, I want to cry. I know this will get easier, but it is hard right now.

Other friends that have returned to work tell me that the first few weeks of transition are hardest, as everyone settles into a new normal, and that it takes a few more weeks to reall get into a rhythm. When we looked at daycares last Friday, one of the directors told me, "Don't worry, all of the moms cry at first. The first few times you drop them off, you will cry, but then it gets easier."

I cried.

Later on in the tour, as we were standing in a hallway, a daddy/son pair walked by, the son appearing to be about Will's age. He was chattering non-stop about his day and seemed perfectly happy. They have obviously been through the transition and have emerged unscathed. So, we will, too.

In any case, for the time being, we won't be leaving the kids at a traditional daycare center. We have decided to accept my friend's offer and Will and Emma will spend their days at her house. She lives across the street from us. We can literally pluck them from their cribs and take them over in their jammies. This is one of my closest friends and Will is very comfortable at her house. I think the transition might be a bit more difficult for Emma, simply because she is at that separation anxiety age, though she is actually very independent even with that. I am a bit concerned about the longevity of the situation, but for now, especially in the beginning when I am traveling, it feels the most comfortable.

So, now, please tell me. . .

When does it get easier?

(Also, for those of you who are working outside of the home, if you care to share any tips on transition, day-to-day advice, coping and scheduling strategies, I would really appreciate it.)

Forks In the Road

2011-08-26T15:34:00.000-07:00

Life goes along, you know?

Day by day, things go by, little by little. Most of life is really quite unplanned once we make the Big Decisions.

Then, every once in awhile, the Big Decisions come along. I have never really been good at the Big Decisions, mostly becauseI am not one of those people who just "live in the moment". I am a planner, always have been, and whenever I make a Big Decision, I see the long term effects of it and have to weigh everything carefully. Once I make the Big Decision, I am actually pretty good about living with it, but the making. . . oh, the making.

Walk with me.

The past three months, we have taken some big hits financially. You might remember, I got laid off from my part time job, which didn't make a lot, but was a bit extra each month. Hit #1.

Hit #2 was a string of health needs. Emma was in the doctor five times in one week. Long story. I also have been having more and more trouble with my neck. I cannot function when it goes out and my physical therapy is not covered until we hit our $2000 deductible and then it is covered at 60/40. I tried so hard not to get therapy the first two times it went out, but the cost was that I think I hurt myself more and have cost us more money in the long run.

The most crucial hit, however, was Hit #3, a change in health care plan at M's work, where the amount we had to pay went up - an increase was over $340 per month. Unfortunately, our insurance didn't get any better. We still have huge deductibles and then co-insurance and my PT is still not covered. I know this is hardly a unique situation. I don't really know anyone that has "good" insurance. But we had about two week's notice before the switch and increase went into effect and that's kind of a big amount to suddenly come up with each month out of a budget that was already tight. Before the increase, we had enough to meet our monthly obligations and a very tiny bit extra for fun spending, and that was about it. We are fortunate that we have a decent amount in savings, and so when something like the car needing new brakes comes up (as it did last month - July was a rough month), we have to take that money from savings. Which wasn't a big deal when it happened occasionally, but it seems to be happening more and more often. Yes, I know that is what savings is for, but as that amount dwindles, so does our comfort level. We went through our budget last month and got rid of anything remotely "fun", downgrading cell phone plans, cable t.v., etc., and the numbers are still falling a bit short.

Enter the Big Decision (which I haven't done a good job of suspense-building - I am sure you see this one coming).

I have a former boss who I worked for at J&J. Let's call him. . . Da Man. Well, Da Man has contacted me me about once a year with a diferent job opportunity since I had Will. He works for a different company now, but it is the same industry. Each year, I have been tempted to take the job offer, and each year, I have decided it wasn't time.

This past Monday, Da Man called. He has an opportunity for me that most people would kill for. Believe me, in this economy, Iknow, I am a LUCKY woman.

Here are the upsides (of which, there are many): I will actually make slightly more than I did when I walked away from my career three years ago, which. . . well, it's more than a good salary, with great benefits. The territory is small (relatively speaking - no overnight travel) and familiar to me (I worked it before). I will work from home (though not at home, I will need to be away for the majority of the day) and have some flexibility in planning my schedule. After I am established with the company (let's say six months to a year), getting time off for sick kiddos, doctor's appointments, special events, etc., is a non-issue. I have worked for Da Man before. He worked me like a dog, but he also thinks a lot of me, respects what I do, and is a family man himself so understands that they will still come first. To me, one of the hardest aspects of a new job is learning a new manager and how they "tick". I've got Da Man kind of figured out. I know how to keep him happy and what is important to him.

Here are the downsides: The training is in New Jersey. For three weeks. Unfortunately, I cannot come home on weekends and the kids and M cannot visit. For someone who has been with her kiddos 24/7 since they were born, this is hard for me to get over (yes, I know it is temporary, it still is something that is hard to deal with). There are national and regional sales meetings about once a quarter to bi-quarterly. Those are usually less than five days long, but it will still be hard. I hated them even before I had kids and only had to leave the furbabies and M. There are days when my schedule will be insane. Sales is sales. You go where the money is, when the money is. There were nights when I wasn't home until midnight and then would turn around and leave the next morning before the sun was up. Obviously, I have some control over this, but there will be times when I do not. There are field rides which are awful in length and intensity, and Da Man loved working with me. He worked with me a LOT (once a month or more). My world kind of stopped before when I had to ride with my manager. That is going to be hard with kids. I know I will reach a new balance and figure it out. It's just intimidating.

And, the ultimate downside. . . I will no longer be with my kids everyday. I know many of you, my dear readers, are working outside the home parents. I respect that with every fiber of my being. This choice is a highly personal one that has to work for each family and no one can make for anyone else. However, I think we make these choices and then live with them based on a tape we play in our head. So, let's say you work. Your tape would support that choice. Let's say you don't work. Your tape supports that. Not to say that either tape is wrong or right, but it's what keeps you going, what helps you feel comfortable with the decision you've made. And while I have heard some moms say that being at home wouldn't be for them, I really have enjoyed being at home (though I do spend a lot of time worrying about what the future holds) and spending my day with these two amazing little people.

We looked at several daycare facilities today. One was an absolute NO GO. I mean, I wouldn't leave my furbaby there. One was decent. One was your cadillac, top-of-the-line facility where our children will be taught Spanish, Manners, and Reflective Dance (I am not kidding). All of them made me cry. It's not that there was really anything wrong (with the last two anyway). It's just that they aren't. . . ME.

A good friend has offered to watch them, but my hesitation is that I haven't heard a lot of successful stories of mixing friendship and childcare. She also wants a "trial" basis and I don't know what we'll do if it turns out to be too much for her and then I've aready taken the job. I also think she wants a more casual arrangement, and I need someone who will be there when I need them to be (within reason).

M refuses to look off of Craigslist or do a state-licensed home daycare (for security reasons) and nanny services are so expensive that it would really negate the financial benefits of me returning to work. So. . . it's pretty much either finding a nanny through word of mouth or using a daycare center. But, I think we can find something. I just have to stop playing the tape.

So, my tape has been playing for a long time. It's hard to unwind that tape and start playing a new one. I realize I am fortunate to even have a decision to make.

I mean, we could keep hobbling along, barely making ends meet. This causes a lot of stress for both of us. Or. . . we could choose a different path where we won't have to hobble along.

So. . . I don't even know what I am looking for here. This is decision that we have to make together. I guess I just needed to put all of this down. And if I am quiet for awhile, you will know why.

Happy Third Birthday, William Patrick

2011-08-20T20:02:00.001-07:00

Dearest Will,

Three years ago today, you were born and my world changed completely.

This is what I wrote on your birthday, August 20, 2008.

The most amazing this has happened. I am a mother. My husband is a father. We are parents and we are so in love.

This is as true today as it was when I first wrote it, if not more so. I am a mother. Not just any mother, but your mother. Your father is a father. Your father. We are your parents and we are so much in love with you.

If someone had told me that day in the hospital how quickly the time would pass, I wouldn't have believed them. And at first, to be quite honest, time passed rather slowly. Each day, though wonderful, was a battle as we figured each other out and learned to be a family. Then, somehow, we got into a rhythm. Each day got easier, better, and more wonderful than I could have possibly imagined. There were days when I literally pinched myself because I couldn't believe that my dreams had finally come true. You were everything I had dreamed of and so very much more.

You are a strong-willed little boy who is often determined to get his way. You have very definite ideas on what you want and when you want it. These qualities can make parenting you a bit of a challenge, but they will be assets as you grow. And while I do believe you will be assertive in getting what you want, I also know that you will be respectful in doing so. While you are not shy in asking for what you want, you are also not short in generosity, making sure that others get things, too.

Your heart is so big. You are so compassionate. You are the first person to ask a friend if they are okay if they fall down and to help them by getting a grown up. If your sister cries, you are on the run for a binkie or toy to calm her down.

When we gave you your big boy bed for your third birthday present, one of your first questions was, "Can Emma come up, too?" You love your sister, you love to include her in everything, you love to teach her things. You make my heart burst with pride over how you have grown so much Emma came into our lives.

Every birthday we hit is a milestone that brings mixed emotions. I am so glad to see you thriving, growing, and learning so much every day. With each new age comes new opportunities, adventures, and excitement. It also makes me long for the days when you were just a tiny baby in my arms. Those times were so fleeting and I have to admit, there are many days when I wish I could just go back there.

But then you say or do something so knock-me-off-my-feet-AMAZING and there is no moment I would rather be in than this one. You have made me a mother, made us a family, made all of my dreams come true, and made me so grateful to share all of this with an incredible human being. I am so proud of you, my sweetest (not so) Little Man. I am so blessed by you. Thank you for being born and changing me forever.

I love you. . . soooooo much.

Mommy

We Both Grow

2011-08-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

There are times in my parenting journey that I can feel it all slipping by too quickly. I just want to stand still and make time stand still with me.

Will turns three years old on Saturday.

Wait. [Cue screeching, scratching record sound.] What?

Will. Turns. Three. Saturday.

I can type it with as much punctuation as I want and I will still be in a bit of shock and a tiny bit of depression about it. My mom always says, "Well, you don't want the alternative!" No, I don't. I am so desperately glad to have healthy, growing, aging children. That doesn't mean that I still don't get a tug on the ol' heart strings watching them get bigger, more independent, and just a tiny bit further away from those little babies they once were (Emma throws tantrums now. TANTRUMS. Albeit mini-tantrums that are almost laughable when compared to the tantrums of a three year old, but tantrums all the same and certainly a harbinger of things to come.).

Given my "If I Could Save Time In A Bottle Mentality" I did something completely out of character two days ago. I was futzing around on craigslist, looking when I should have been listing (story of my life), when I found IT.

By IT, I mean the bed Will has been coveting since he first saw it at his friend's house in November. The last time we came home from this particular friend's house where they played in it most of the time we were there, he walked into his own bedroom, looked sorrowfully at his own crib-turned-toddler-bed and said, "I need a big boy bed, Mommy."

Well, see, here's the thing. M and I purchased one of those fancy schmancy convertible cribs. It was quite a bit of money and I sold M on the practicality of it. "It's the only bed he'll ever need!" I proclaimed in all of my seven month pregnant glory (even if more than we had planned on spending, the crib was still an excellent deal and the very last one - my hormones were telling me someone else would buy it if we didn't RIGHT NOW). Of course, I meant it then, but I hadn't counted on all of his friends having these super cool beds and him having this plain old bed that isn't really a bed. It was just a crib with the side off. So, my mind got to thinking (always dangerous). . . what about getting him a true big boy bed for his third birthday?

The bed is $199 (plus tax) at Ikea. The bed canopy is $40 (plus tax). The mattress that they bought is $99 (plus tax). Altogether, we are looking at over $350 for all of it with taxes. That was way out of our budget for a birthday present. And besides, as M loved to remind me, we bought that specific crib so we would never have to buy a bed for him again. So, no big boy bed.

And then, I found IT. On Craigslist. For $100. All of it. The bed, the canopy, the mattress. I figured it was already sold, so I e-mailed "just to see". It wasn't sold. It was still available.

I asked my girlfriend if she could possibly go with me to disassemble it and haul it in her much larger SUV. I figured she would have other plans. She didn't. She was excited and eager to help.

So, now all that remained was asking M, which I chickened out and did over text. I figured he would say a resounding NO. He actually did say NO, but it wasn't resounding and I was very persistent and convincing (also rather out of character for me) and he relented.

Saturday morning, my girlfriend and I went to retrieve the bed. We brought it home and put the pieces in our garage.

Suddenly, I realized what I had done (am I the only one who realizes the true impact of their actions after they have already done something?). I had bought a BIG! BOY! BED! which meant that I had to take down the crib. Allen wrench in hand, piece by piece, screw by screw; I felt as if I was undoing my heart. As I pulled the slats and rails apart, I cried. I remembered his crib going up, I remembered bringing Will home to it, I remembered sleep training, I remember crawling into it when he wouldn't sleep alone (oh, I didn't mention that before now. . . oops) I remembered not so long ago when I cried when the front rail came off. . . Can you just hear the faint strains of "Memories"?

I realized that this buying of a big boy bed was actually very symbolic. You see, I do want to keep him little, but I don't want to hold him back. I want to encourage his growth and development. When he is ready, I want him to step forward, whether it be from my arms, a crib, our family home, our neighborhood, and someday, far beyond. My job is to get him ready for those steps and then to encourage him to take those steps, cheering him along all the way and catching him if he stumbles a bit. So I dried my tears and looked forward to all of the fun times to come in this new bed.

When the bed was up and ready, the Big Reveal was pretty priceless. He was SO excited! (I have shared the video on Facebook, but I am not sure how to share video from my phone here. If we aren't Facebook friends and you want to be, let me know through a comment or e-mail how to find you and I will.)

Then nighttime fell and it was actually time for him to sleep in the Big Boy Bed.

TROUBLE.

He didn't want his new big boy bed any more. It might have been fun to play with but it was time to sleep and he wanted his crib.

At this point, all of the crib pieces had been hauled down to the garage. Since it was a Craigslist purchase, M had assembled the new bed without benefit of instructions (although, honestly, Ikea instructions are rather worthless), and we had spent the better part of a day on this project. But I still got down on Will's level and asked him if he really wanted his old bed back (and I really didn't know what he would say). He thought about it for a minute and then slowly shook his head. "No, I keep my new bed."

We took bedtime a bit more slowly and I crawled in with him for a few minutes to get him settled. I rubbed his back, sang him a song (or ten), and we talked about how big and grown up he is getting in his new big boy bed. He was getting sleepy and I kissed his little head, smelling his freshly washed hair. I loved on my baby for a minute before crawling out of the bed. I paused at the door, half expecting (and a tiny bit hoping) he would call out to me, but he didn't. He was ready. And so was I.

We both grew a little bit.

Live and Learn

2011-08-13T16:51:00.001-07:00

My dear friend Ms. J wrote about a scary experience that recently happened with her daughter, Peanut. It reminded me of something that happened with Will when he was about the same age. I never wrote about it because. . . well, I'll be really honest, I was embarrassed about it. And though I am fortunate that most of the comments I receive here are positive (or at least polite if voicing disagreement), I have had a few negative comments from time to time. And if someone had issues with me letting my son go potty by "himself" at the zoo, I am sure that someone will have issues with this and I was a little too raw about it to blog it in "real time".

That being said, I am not a rainbows and lollipops parent. There are many wonderful things about being a mommy, but there are lots of things that are frustrating, embarassing, and downright confusing. And then, there are times when you mess up, plain and simple. Some time has passed since this happened and, as I was thinking about it today, I realized that sharing this story might actually be a bit of a PSA. Because other people might not think about things the same way you do, so even a loving family member can unintentionally put your child(ren) at risk.

Rewind to a little over a year and a half ago. It was late fall 2009 and I was just barely pregnant with Emma and Will was somewhere around 17 months old. Battling morning sickness and exhausted, I was laying on the floor of his gated playroom, listlessly watching him play when he toddled over to me and handed me a WET, CHEWED ON half tablet of mystery origin. A tiny bit of white powder was at the corner of his mouth, dismissing my fervent hope that a dog had chewed the unidentified pill. Fortunately, there was still enough of an imprint left that I was able to Google and figure out that it was. . . VICODIN. Only half, mind you. IMMEDIATELY, my mind freaked out, wondering where the heck the other half was. Oh, and WHERE IN THE NAME OF GRAVY DID THIS VICODIN EVEN COME FROM?!?! I had percocet following my c-section with Will and couldn't remember the last time I had vicodin before that. And super-healthy, surgery-free M hasn't ever been prescribed vicodin. Even if we DID have vicodin in the house, we keep all medications (even the "baby" ones) in a LOCKED cabinet far above young childrens' hands in our upstairs bathroom - and WILL DIDN'T CLIMB STAIRS at that age and we had baby gates at the top and bottom of the staircase.

After identifying the mystery pill, I immediately called our pediatrician's office, and was told to call poison control. That phone call might have been the lowest point of my parenting career. Calling poison control and admitting my child had a vicodin in his hand, that was clearly chewed upon, and that I didn't even know where it came from. . . yeah, my Parent of the Year Trophy definitely was a bit tarnished. Fortunately, the lady on the phone was very, very nice. She said that even newborns can safely tolerate small doses of vicodin and that unless he ingested more than half a pill, he would be just fine, if a bit drowsy. She said he could have taken several pills and still be okay. She gave me warning signs to look for and did suggest I try to identify the "source" just to make sure it didn't happen again and that he had, indeed, only had a half tablet.

I scoured our house, looking for stray vicodin. Then, coming up empty handed, I then started making calls to people who had recently been in our house. It was awkward, but I was desperate to find out where this pill had come from. Fortunately, I was only two calls in when I discovered what had happened.

Turns out, it came from my MIL, who had visited the day before. She keeps half vicodin tablets in a baggie in her purse for her geriatric dog who travels everywhere with her. The baggie was in her purse, but after checking it while we were on the phone, she realized it was partially unzipped and had spilled into (and apparenlty out of) her purse. She was POSITIVE she had 9 half tablets before and she had 8 in her purse now. And Will had found the 9th. I was all at once both furious and relieved. Will was fine, but I felt as if we'd had a close call. I (very politely) made it clear to my MIL that she was no longer allowed to bring any sort of medications into our home if they weren't in childproof containers AND I put her purse in the closet when she visits. She felt terrible about what happened (she loves Will more than life itself and would never want to harm him - she just wasn't thinking about the potential danger) and was eager to make sure it never happened again. Problem solved (though I still went through the house twice more to make sure there were no more halves that she might have miscounted).

This story serves as a good reminder that those that visit you might not be aware of the necessary precautions you should take when you have children around. Obviously, vicodin is a scary one that most people would think about taking special care with, but even the more "innocent" medications like acetaminophen can be dangerous in high doses. It is likely that most people who enter your home have medication in their belongings. It is a sensitive topic to broach with some people, but there are gentle ways to do it. If you have people visiting, especially overnight guests who might have a medicine bag with them, it is easy to offer them a special place to keep things where accidental access is less likely to happen (a locked cabinet or high shelf of a closet for example). I usually phrase it like this: "I can't guarantee Will, Emma, or our dog will stay out of your purse (or whatever personal items they might have brought). Can I put it in this closet for you?" I show them where I am putting said belonging(s) so they have free access to it, but it keeps the kiddos out and whatever they might have brought in. It also takes the burden off of them and places it on me and I don't need to get into the whole "are you carrying drugs" with you conversation. And yes, I also do think that it is very, very important to teach my children not to get into peoples' things and not to eat things that haven't been given to them by an adult they trust. But my children are still very young and I do not want the cost of them breaking a "rule" to be their lives.

So, all is well that ends well and I learned a valuable lesson. Hopefully, you can learn from it, too.

Without a call to poison control.

*If you have other suggestions on this topic or stories to share, that's great. If you disagree with how I handled this, that is fine, too. I am always eager to learn from others' perspectives. Just keep it respectful, please, we're all on the same team here!

Then and Now

2011-08-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

Recently, quite a few of my blog friends have been having their second babies (I only linked to two, because the others are PWP). Most of these ladies have been with me from the beginning (or close to it), so it has been nice to watch their journies continue on to #2. All of them, of course, are rocking the mom to two thing. Hardly surprising, since they are awesome mommies to begin with.

Of course, watching them brings a mix of emotions to me. First and foremost, I am so freakin' happy for them. It really is a special (if a bit crazy) time bringing home a baby. There is also a bit of sadness thrown in, because I know some really amazing ladies for whom #2 hasn't happened yet, and I can imagine following these stories is more than a little bittersweet. It also makes me a eensy bit jealous. I don't really want a third, but that newborn phase is so fleeting that it makes me wistful that I'll never have it again. Lastly, in total conflict, it makes me a bit glad that I will never have that again. As wonderful as that newborn phase is, it is also incredibly hectic, exhausting, and emotionally draining, and I love sleep.

Where I am today is good.

I am really into a rhythm with my two. I am not at all afraid about going anywhere with them by myself. I am not the stay at home type of stay at home mom, so I was concerned about this heading into #2. I needn't have been. I go everywhere with my monkeys. Everywhere.

Our life has settled into a somewhat predictable routine. I am not nearly as. . . well, let's just say it . . . CRAZY about scheduling everything like I was with Will, but I still do like to keep things similar from day to day. I think kids like that predictability, and even if they don't, I do. I like knowing when I can schedule appointments and such and when I will have some (precious) Mommy-time!

Emma is beginning to truly communicate what she wants. She has a few words she can say, but her latest, "BITE!" when she is hungry is very convenient! This girl is hungry a LOT. She also can gesture wildly to things he wants (binky, sippy cup, toy her brother is playing with, etc.). Will is almost three (time needs to stop, I am serious) and talk about communication! Whew! He is also getting more independent by the day and can get himself (mostly) dressed, shoes off or on, and help me with all sorts of small chores. So, life gets easier as the two of them get older.

I felt as if the first year of Emma's life went by in an impossibly fast blur. I seriously don't know how a year passed us. She was born and then pop! she was turning one. I can only imagine this next year will scoot by even faster. I am trying to enjoy every moment, but I will admit, I often feel as if an entire day slips by without me even realizing it.

The other day, we were driving someplace when Will sneezed. Emma laughed. So then Will fake sneezed and Emma laughed again. Then. . . she faked a sneeze! Then Will laughed. They had each other in belly laughs within a few minutes. M and I were up front laughing, too. It's those moments that everything kind of slips together and freeze frames. And those moments are crazy incredible. They are worth every shot in the stomach, every failed cycle, every time in the strirrups, everything. But I am no longer in that place, that then. I thank God for that every single day.

To steal the line from a very cheesy American Idol song, "This is my now."

Because Sometimes, A Girl Needs A List

2011-08-01T19:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I look back at the day and I think, "What did I DO today?"

I saw this on A'dell's blog and thought it was pure genius. Because it reminds me that I actually AM doing something each day. . . even when it doesn't seem like it.

1. Woke up before the kids so I could make M breakfast (peanut butter on toast - hardly gourmet, don't be impressed).

2. Showered (you're welcome, World).

3. Made breakfast for both kids. Cleaned up (as in, tossed all dishes in the sink - the dishwasher was full).

4. Got both kids sunscreened, dressed, and ready for the day.

5. Got myself dressed and ready for the day.

6. Fed and put the dog out.

7. Went to have three estimates done on the car for brakework. Ugh. (But apparently vying for Top Secret Mom of the Year of Award, I took them to a park during each estimate - I have a feeling I will be waiting for my trophy for quite some time. . .)

8. Went to a friend's house for lunch so Will could play.

9. Put both kids down for a nap.

10. Put away folded laundry FROM SATURDAY (okay, so my TSM award might just be taken away for the delay).

11. Put a new load of laundry in the wash.

12. Played with both kids.

13. Made dinner for both kids. And didn't really clean up because I will be making dinner for M and myself later on.

14. Bath for both kiddos. This is where M comes into the picture and I come down to blog and do other non-kid-related things.

Still to be accomplished: Research "sour dough bread starters" (also from A'dell's blog) and think (notice I said THINK) about doing that. Put both kids to bed. Have a "dinner date at home" with the husband. Lots of Little Things that will bore you (like fold laundry).

What did you do today? What is left to be done?

He Is Three

2011-07-29T18:24:00.000-07:00

I have two close girlfriends with children approximately 5 months ahead of Will. It is both wonderful and a bit unnerving all at once.

The wonderful part is obvious. Having close friends going through similar ages and stages is comforting. It's nice knowing that I am not the only one going through whatever the current challenge is. It's nice having a bit of a yardstick. Though all children are different and it's best not to directly compare them, it does seem as if kids do roughly follow the same patterns as far as development. It is also lovely to have playmates for our children and to know no matter what house you are at, there will be a variety of age-appropriate toys, a pack-n-play or two, a booster, etc.

The unnerving part is that I also get to see what happens with their kids before it happens to me. Five months is still a pretty big leap in preschool-aged kids, so Will is usually a step behind the two older kids.

At first, I would watch their kids change and think, "Wow, I am glad Will doesn't do that."

And then, five months or so would pass, and he would do that, too.

It works the either direction, too. I will watch their kids do something and think, "Hmmm, I wonder why Will doesn't do that."

Five months or so later, and he does.

So, watching their kids is like watching my future life in about five months.

About a month before their respective birthdays, both of my friends' girls' sleep fell apart. They started waking multiple times a night, fighting bedtime and naps, and having nightmares. I seriously can't remember the last time Will did any of those things. That is, of course, until this past week, when he started doing all of them and I remembered that we were a month out from him turning three.

About a month before their birthdays, both of the older preschoolers started throwing tantrums of gagantuan proportions and it was drama, drama, drama about the tiniest little things. Well, enter Will and tantrums over everything. Everything.

So, yeah, here I am. About a month before he officially turns three, I find myself with a "three year old" in terms of behavior. Now, I have heard from everyone that the Terrible Twos are little league when compared to the hijinks that a three year old brings to the table.

As with most things, however, there is the other side of the coin. Almost-three-year-old Will is incredibly sweet. His spontaneous hugs and kisses are so wonderful. He has so much compassion for a friend that is hurt, patting them on the back and asking if someone could "please get them a bandaid". He loves to "help Mommy" by doing all sorts of "big boy" things. He loves to read to himself and his sister (he has so many books memorized that it almost does seem as if he is reading - he even knows when to turn the pages).

He is good boy - with the attitude of a three year old. And I saw it coming yet couldn't really prepare myself for how it felt to parent a preschooler. It is exhausting on so many levels. I love the challenge, accept it for what it is. But there are moments when I am already counting the days until his next birthday. . . over a year from now! And then there are moments when I want to bottle up the sweetness and save it until I am 103 years old.

In any case, the adventure of motherhood is never predictable. I only hope I am fit to the task ahead!

Infertility, I HATE You

2011-07-26T17:01:00.000-07:00

I had many IRL friends that I felt very "let down" by during our battle with infertility and miscarriage. It seemed my friends fell into three categories. Either:
A) they would avoid talking about it altogether and change the subject when I brought it up. I'd say about 50% of my friends fell into this camp.
B) they would say really hurtful and insensitive things and not just occasionally, but whenever we did talk about it. You know the usual platitudes and things that grate your heart and nerves to shreds ("It was God's plan." "When will you be "over" this?" "Well, something was probably wrong with the baby anyway."). I'd say about 25% fell into this category. Most of these friendships didn't survive this time in my life.
C) they were incredible supportive and our friendship grew because of it. I'd say the remaining 25% of my friends (which is still high compared to what I read on other blogs) really seemed compassionate. Even if they clearly didn't understand, they made an attempt to, and they listened to me when I needed it, distracted me when I needed it, and cried with me when I needed it.

Of the last group, there were two friends that I could really count on. Those were the two IRL friends that I spoke to almost daily and still do. Those two women were my touchstones. I will call one of those women Melissa.

Melissa and her husband waited a bit to have kids. He was in medical school and she was just starting her career. So while I was going through everything, she was far away from the world of TTC. Despite that, she remained compassionate and concerned, and was there for me during every single miscarriage.

Last July, she told to me that they were starting to TTC. I was so excited. Even though our friendship has stayed strong, the fact that I have kids and she doesn't has kind of separated us. Not in a bad way, but you know how it is. . . they never need a sitter, we can never find one, she wears suits and I wear spit up, they are jetting off to tropical sans kiddos vacations, and we are packing the grocery-getter and driving to the Great Wolf Lodge. I am not complaining, mind you, but I was looking forward to sharing these things with her and knew it would bring us even closer.

A few months went by with no luck. She wasn't overly concerned, but she asked me about charting, temping, and OPKs. I was happy to give her information, old charts of mine, and direct her to all of my favorite TTC sites.

After eight months of TTC she had her annual exam. She told her GYN what was going on and the doctor wasn't that concerned, but said they could run some basic tests, just to put her mind at ease. The bloodwork that they did uncovered a mildly elevated FSH and a luteal phase defect. With that discovery, her doctor also had her husband get a sperm analysis which uncovered morphology issues. Her doctor recommended that they immediately start Femara and IUIs to assist them in getting pregnant.

The first cycle, her lining was too thin and they canceled the trigger and IUI. The second cycle, she developed a cyst and canceled trigger and IUI. The third cycle, her lining looked great, but the follicle was too small to trigger, so they had her come back in two days and she had already ovulated on her own. She had little hope for the cycle.

In June, her sister-in-law told her that she and her husband were going off the Pill, just to see what happened. You guessed it, the sister-in-law told her last week that she got a positive pregnancy test. Melissa was convinced this cycle failed and she cried as she talked about having to watch her sister-in-law be pregnant so easily. She felt terrible for her feelings, but I assured her they were normal and in no way made her a bad person.

The next day, she called me and told me in a trembling voice that she was holding a faintly positive pee stick. I whooped and hollered and we cried together. She and her husband decided to keep their happy news a secret until an ultrasound, but her sister-in-law announced her news to the family at dinner this last weekend.

On Monday, Melissa was at a work meeting. Her coworker is nine months pregnant and so they had a baby shower for her. Somewhere between the cake and presents, she felt a tiny gush. She went into the bathroom and stared in horror at the toilet bowl filled with blood. From the stall, she called me, hoping for reassurance. I tried to do my best, I know miracles happen. I told her to call her doctor and get a beta.

The beta was dismal. She is miscarrying.

What. . . the. . . hell.

I just do not understand sometimes. I would NEVER wish infertility on any of my friends, even the ones who are no longer friends. BUT what I do not understand is why it seems to affect the most compassionate, wonderful women that I know. I am sure this is just a matter of perspective. I am sure it affects all manners of women, but I just get so tired of hearing and seeing about babies born to people who could care less, who abuse and neglect them and don't love them. And then my sister, my sister-in-law, one of my best friends. . . I see these women who would be the most amazing mothers suffering so very deeply in their quest to become parents.

And it makes me so angry. I am filled with sadness, yes, but also a quiet and honestly, a bit scary, RAGE. I want to yell and scream at somebody, but there is no one to "blame". And the very worst part about having experienced miscarriage and infertility myself is that I know that nothing I really say or do can truly HELP my friend at this point. I can be there for her and that does help, but I cannot take her hurt away. I cannot stop her tears. I cannot unbreak her heart. I cannot tell her that this won't happen again or that she will be pregnant again soon. I cannot tell her anything but the words that I heard so many times, and now had to say too many times to women that I love. "I am sorry."

And it makes me so angry.

I Survived

2011-07-23T21:13:00.000-07:00

It was a crazy couple of days. I didn't take ONE picture, so I will save the official wrap up for when I get the disk of pics my sister and a friend took for me.

But it was a wonderful party and though I am exhausted to the core, it was everything that I hoped for. The best part was getting to love on my sweet little girl and see her enjoy her special day.

Pictures and more details to come!

Edited. . . pics starting to come in.

Feast your eyes upon the yummy smash cake and cupcakes that turned out JUST EXACTLY how I wanted them to!

And. . . oh, you guys. There are no words to fully describe how much I love this little girl. I am so incredibly blessed.

More to come.

In Which Katie Goes Party Crazy

2011-07-22T03:11:00.000-07:00

I am not sure why I have gone so off the deep end (ha, ha, it's an "under the sea" party theme) with this party, but I have.

I have completely tossed my own good advice aside and done too much, not kept it simple, and pretty much created a crapload of work for myself.

However.

I am pretty excited. I do think all of this hard work is going to pay off. I think it's going to be an amazing first birthday party for one amazing little girl (who won't remember a thing).

Of course, there will be pictures galore to come.

Fingers crossed that it all works out (somewhat) as I have pictured it and that it doesn't rain. Pretty, oh, pretty please.

So Much In Love

2011-07-20T19:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, as I have said before, I get NO compensation for this blog or any products that I blog about! So, please know this endorsement is 100% FROM. THE. HEART.

Do you remember the chocolate story? Please click back if you didn't read it. It's worth it, I promise, plus it makes what comes next even more important.

Well, several different cleaners failed to get the chocolate out. I tried (my previous favorite) Folex (still swear by this for animal stains), OxiClean, SpotShot (another fave), and many more. But I still was left with discolored spots and definite stains in my carpet.

I have used this before. I didn't think it would work for this situation, but, friends, IT SO DID.

I wholeheartedly recommend this product. Use it, love it, have clean carpets again! TRUST ME.

Happy First Birthday, Emma

2011-07-17T21:30:00.001-07:00

Dearest, Sweetest Emma Grace,

I may not have written as much during your first year as I did during your brother's, but rest assured, it is not because Mommy loves you any less. It is because you have filled Mommy's days with such laughter, love, and happiness, that I just don't have as much time to fill these pages. Each day, I wake up, excited and ready to face the day. Each day goes by in a blur. And each night, I go to bed and fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. You and your brother keep me busy.

But not a day goes by that I do not think about how lucky I am to be your mama. You are quite simply the easiest, happiest, most wonderful baby girl that has ever been. From the day we brought you home from the hospital, you have been a great sleeper and awesome eater. Your quick smile and belly laughs have filled this house with joy beyond compare. When I see you and your brother together, my heart swells with the love that I have for both of you.

Now, don't get me wrong, Little Miss, you may be easy to please and happy as a clam, with a laugh that makes others laugh right along with you, but you are also fiesty, full of heart, and have a huge personality.

You like to tease people. You will offer me a bite of food and then pull it away and plop it in your own mouth. You like to play peek a boo with your daddy and steal his glasses. You like to play keep-a-way with your brother. And if you don't get something as quickly as your little heart desires, well, then we are going to hear about it!

But, oh Emma. Your heart is so big. You are so sweet and smiley. Everyone always comments on your big, toothy grin and how happy and content you always are. You love to imitate us. You will make just about any sound we do. . . except Mama, you little tease! Some of your favorite words are "sish" (fish), "Boo!", "ticky ticky" (for tickles), "tank too" (thank you), dadda, and Va Va Va Vee (for when we were trying to teach Will how to say "Vee").

Today, your grandma Jane said, "Just think about where you were a year ago and how happy you aren't there right now!"

And I thought to myself that the day you were born was the best day of my life and I would give a lot to be able to live that day again. Yes, of course, there were some stressful (and even painful) moments, but what I really remember was the peacefulness that came into my soul the moment you were placed into my arms. Those moments with just your Daddy, you, and me in the hospital were filled with bliss and happiness. I had waited my whole life to hold you in my arms, to kiss your sweet face, to count your fingers and watch them curl tightly around my hand. My whole life, I wanted to be a mommy, but I had no idea that what I really wanted was to be Will's Mommy and your Mommy. I had no idea what being a mommy meant until you and your brother arrived to show me. Each day, you teach me more and more about what it truly means to be a mother.

Today is your first birthday. I am sad to be saying goodbye to your babyhood but I am already looking forward to all of the wonderful and amazing times that we have ahead. Watching you grow into a toddler, then a little girl, and finally a woman will be the greatest honor and privilege of my life. I know I will make mistakes along the way, I know that there are times that I will let you down. Please know that I will always do my best to be the very best mother to you that I can be and to guide you a long the way, while also stepping back and giving you room to grow and conquer the world on your own.

Also know that there are times along the way that you will make mistakes. You will think you have let me down. I promise you this, Sweetest Girl: there is nothing you could ever do that would make me love you less. I will always be proud of you and humbled by the opportunity to be your mommy. All that I want for you is health, happiness, and faith in yourself. You will do amazing things, my wonderful daughter, and I will be there, cheering you on and bursting with pride. I can't wait to see who you become, because the person you are today is just a tiny fraction of who you will one day be, and yet you are already so amazing, I don't honestly know how you could get any better.

Yet I know you will.

With love forever and always,
Mommy

Ah, Iced Tea

2011-07-14T23:09:00.001-07:00

I have always loved iced tea. My mom used to make sun tea in the summers and I loved having the pitchers of it in the refrigerator. I loved coming home after a hard day of playing and chugging a glass of the icy-cold goodness.

I have also always loved my iced tea very sweet. For this reason, I rarely order it in restaurants or have it at someone's house, because it is kind of embarassing how much sugar I like to add and I don't enjoy it if it's not sweet enough.

I still remember the day that I discovered sweet tea. I was at a work meeting, sitting next to a coworker from Georgia. He ordered iced tea at lunch and then proceeded to empty a dozen sugar packets into his glass. Be still my beating heart! I had found my iced tea soulmate! I couldn't help but comment that I finally met someone who liked their tea as sweet as I did. He responsed that he could fill the glass with sugar and it still wouldn't taste like his mama's, because to be real sweet tea, the sugar and tea had to be brewed together. Another girl at the table, also from the south, said she would make me some real sweet tea when we got back to our hotel that night (we were at a month-long training and living in hotels that were basically apartments, complete with full kitchens). So, on our way back from the meeting, we stopped at the grocery store for to to buy a 5 lb bag of sugar, a box of tea bags, and a huge glass jar. . . oh, and some mint, though I personally don't like mint in mine, but apparently, it is essential to "true" sweet tea in some areas of the south.

She then showed me the secret to making sweet tea. Now, I will tell you, if you like your tea sweet, you will like my sweet tea. If you don't like your tea sweet. . . well, I will make you a glass of plain iced tea because I like to be a good hostess. But my friends love it and request it at playdates and parties. I love to oblige. I have three sun tea jugs because I always have at least one in the fridge, cooled and ready to go, one out on my back porch, steeping, and one is usually at a friends' house.

This blog entry is not about my sweet tea, however. It is about how I found the best iced tea in the world. . . in Mexico.

When my husband and I went to Mexcio for our honeymoon, I was nursing a kidney infection, so drinking alcohol was out. I ordered an iced tea on our second day there and. . . oh mah word. It was the best tea I had ever tasted - it blew my poor lil' sweet tea clean out of the water. It was sweet, had a touch of citrus flavor to it, came with little slices of lime, and was amazing. I sucked down cup after cup of this amazing brew. Most restaurants had the iced tea in self-serve cannisters, so I started bringing my own water bottle and filling it up. I just couldn't get enough of this exotic brew.

When we got home, I tried to recreate the flavor, and I couldn't. I brewed my tea stronger, weaker, tried different brands of tea bags. I thought adding lime would help, it didn't. I thought adding lemon, maybe? It didn't work. Nothing could get me that taste. I had failed in my quest.

M heard about this iced tea for two freaking years. When we planned our return trip to Mexico for our two year wedding anniversary, I swear I was the most excited about having that iced tea again.

It didn't disappoint. I sucked down three glasses within ten minutes of checking in.

This time, I was determined to find out the magical secret to "Mexican Iced Tea". I asked the servers how it was made, but the language barrier seemed to make it impossible. They kept pantomiming a jug and scooping motions with their hands. Nothing there.

It was on our last day there that disaster struck - NO ICED TEA in the cannisters. I asked our server and she indicated it hadn't been made for the day, but she could make me one. Boy howdy, this was what I had been waiting for. "Yes, please!" I said, desperate for the recipe more than the drink itself.

I surreptitiously followed her so I could see her magic work from the behind the bar. Imagine my shock when I saw her pull a container of Lipton Instant Iced Tea with Lemon from under the counter and do exactly what the servers had been trying to show me with their pantomimes: The cannister opened and she scooped in the powder. Then she added the twist of lime and some ice.

That was it? My secret, amazing, only-in-paradise iced tea was. . . INSTANT? From a can? Oh, the woe.

Turns out that, yes, it was. I thought perhaps she had just made the instant because it would be the fastest way to bring me what I'd ordered. But no, I took a sip, and that was it. Instant iced tea was the elixir I had been searching for.

I came home, eager to spread the word, only to find that others apparently do not share my love of the instant tea. Friends tell me that I am crazy and that my sweet tea is so much better. So the dirty little secret in the back of my pantry is my Costco sized cannister of Lipton Iced Tea**. I highly recommend it.

But if you want to make the real deal, here is the easy recipe for sweet tea that a good friend from the south taught me. Great for parties, playdates (I use decaf tea bags, so it's even kid-friendly, though then I use a bit less sugar - boo!), bbqs, or just hanging out around the house.

Sweet Tea

■6 to 8 tea bags
■1 quart hot water (4 cups)
■1 quart cold water (4 cups)
■1/2 cup sugar (more or less to taste - and I use 3/4 cup in mine)***

Step One:

Pour the cold water into the sun tea jar (this is important - most sun tea jars today are plastic and could melt or warp if you pour the hot water in directly later on).

Step Two:

In a sauce pan, bring water to a full boil over high heat. Remove from heat and add the tea bags. Allow to steep for exactly ten minutes, stirring very gently a few times during the steeping time.

Step Three:

Remove the tea bags and add the sugar to the HOT tea. Stir until fully dissolved.

Step Four:

Very carefully pour the hot tea into the cold water in the jug.

Voila! Put it into the fridge to cool. Serve over ice.

*Oh, and if you must have mint, add that during the steeping time and then strain it out. Lemon wedges are also a nice garnish.

**No, I have not been compensated for this blog, though if the fine people at Lipton wanted to send me some tea, I wouldn't say no! ;)

***Most sun tea jars are gallon sized, so I usually double this recipe.

This and That

2011-07-13T23:05:00.000-07:00

I threw out my neck this Monday by . . . are you ready for this. . . getting out of bed. But because that is about the lamest story ever (and makes me sound 82), I am saying that I actually injured myself by sitting in the front row of the theater when we took Will to see his first movie this last weekend.

Well, actually, we didn't sit in the very front row. We were only four rows back, however, and I did feel as if I spent the whole time straining my neck. It was worth it, however, because Will loved the movie. He sat through the entire thing and only said things like, "Look, Mommy, it's Lightening McQueen! And he's HUGE!" He sat in his own chair for about half the movie and then alternated between our two laps for the remainder.

He was kind of a turkey after, though. I think he was just a bit overwhelmed by everything. We had gone to a birthday party earlier that day where he had his first bloody nose after a nasty fall on the playground. He was playing with some older kids who were spinning him on some sort of spinny-thing. He was having a great time, until he tried to get off and smacked himself good on the spinny-thing. He bled all over and gave me quite a scare. But five minutes later and a juice box later he was back out playing. It took me a lot longer to calm down.

Speaking of birthday parties, Emma's first birthday is looming. She turns a year old this Sunday. I am all sorts of emotional about it. I was giving her a bottle today and realized that we won't be doing bottles anymore soon. It made me very nostalgic and I actually started to tear up. Then she saw me and cracked a smile, formula running out the sides of her mouth, and it made me laugh.

Party plans are fully underway. I am starting to feel as if I have things somewhat under control. Well, I did, until I threw out my silly neck. Now I am a bit behind, but not much. I keep repeating my own advice: Remember the point of the party. All that really matters is that I have been blessed with the most amazing little girl and that she is turning one.

I do have one question, however. This is my menu:

Submarine sandwiches
Fish-shaped pbjs
Seashell pasta salad
Individual bags of chips
Cake (of course)
Soda, water, juice

Do you think I need to add a fruit of some sort? Like watermelon slices or grape bunches? I'd honestly rather not add anything else, but I also want to provide a decent lunch. Your thoughts?

Secret Confessions Of A Mom

2011-07-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I hate the kids museum. Whew, it felt good to say that.

When we first got our membership to the kids museum, I LOVED it. We went at least once a week. Now, I rarely go, and when I do I spend much of the time wishing that I hadn't. I actually have developed a love/hate relationship with the place. . . as in, I love to hate it. Here is why I hate the kids museum:

1) Germ Factory

Will (and now Emma) seem to get sick within a few days of a visit to the place. Enough said.

2) Two Ships Passing in the Night

Many times, I meet a friend and her child(ren) at the museum. And I use the word "meet" rather loosely, because that's about all we'll do: meet there and then wave to each other as our kids lead us to different exhibits.

3) Other Kids (Or Rather, Other Parents)

Now, my son is not perfect. That is what I am for. When he hits, or doesn't share, or thinks that he needs to make a train that is eleventy billion cars long on the train table and hog the drawbridge for a half hour, or [insert here], it is up to me, as his parent, to make sure he does the right thing. Unfortunately, there are a lot of parents at the museum who park it on a bench with a book and consider that they are "off-duty" while their child terrorizes the place. Now, I have seen this happen in other locations, but it seems to happen to a greater degree/frequency at the kids museum.

4) The Water Room

This is such a cool room and I feel like such a drip (ha, ha, pun intended) for not enjoying it, but honestly, I hate the fact that Will is going to be soaking wet after visiting this room. Yes, I bring a change of clothes, but then I have to carry them around, then carry the soaking wet clothes around, and I am already carrying EMMA around. If I can help it, we visit this room last.

5) Tantrum-City

This is not the fault of the museum, but lately, Will has a huge tantrum when we leave the kids museum. My mom would call this payback as I apparently did this to her whenever we would live OMSI when I was a child. Whatever the reason, it only adds to my intense dislike.

6) The You Can't Take It With You Policy

They have a phenemonal art studio in which it is free to make a fun, amazing, intriguing craft. . . which you cannot take with you. They keep all of the artwork to "display," which is a cool idea for older kids, but Will doesn't get the idea of leaving his work so others can appreciate it. Also, I highly suspect they do no display all of the artwork (I have yet to see any of Will's "masterpieces" out for public consumption), so I don't know why they can't let him keep what he has made. The first time this happened, I thought "Lesson Learned," no more art studio. But Will wants to make a craft each time we are there and he also wants to take it home. So, either way, it's an issue. Sigh. I actually did ask last time, and the reason that they don't let them keep them is because it would be a hazard (and messy) for them to run around upstairs with their projects. I get it, I do, but my two year old doesn't. I suggested that they have a place where kids can pick up their projects on the way out, and the teenaged Art Attendant rolled her eyes at me and said, "We don't have time to do that."

Oh. Okay then.

7) The Exit Is Over THERE

In a ploy of true marketing genius, the only exit out of the museum is through the gift shop (mostly filled with toys he has just played with and now covets). So, I have to take my already screaming, tantruming toddler out through a Place of All Things He Wants And I Am NOT Buying Him? If he wasn't already throwing a fit, he certainly would be now.

8) We Have One Of Those At Home

I think the biggest salt in my wound is that Will's favorite exhibit at the museum isn't the cool theater, glow room, outdoor playground, airplane, or even the dreaded water room. . . it's the freakin' train table.

Now, granted, it's probably the coolest train table ever created, but it's still a train table. And he has one of those at home. I would understand if he played with other kids at the train table, but instead he wants to hog all of the trains by making the aforementioned longest train ever. He gets upset if another kid tries to take their train past his trains on the track.

If he wants to play trains by himself and hog all of them? He can do that at home. So, in order to put up with all of the other things that I dislike about the museum and then have him just play with the trains?

Like I said, I know it's not very "momish" of me to admit this, but I just don't like the kids museum. And yet I go because he loves it so very much . . . which I guess makes me a good mom in spite of my inner dislike.

That Old Familiar Feeling. . .

2011-07-05T22:46:00.000-07:00

As Emma nears her first birthday, I am putting away the clothes she no longer fits. Folding tiny onesies and sleepers that she once swam in, I am then pulling out the clothes that are crazy big on her for now and putting them in the place of what she has outgrown. I know that, only too soon, she will outgrow these. And the cycle will continue.

This weekend, I was prepping the house for some guests for the 4th, and I wanted some mindless t.v. on while I did my housework. I flipped through the channels and found Father of the Bride. I found myself standing in front of the t.v. during the scene where he reflects on Annie growing up through the years, tears streaming down my face, thinking of the day when Emma will leave us to marry someone - or even just leave the house to go to college.

I got a little. . . emotional. . . right before Will's birthday, too. With his big day, however, I was hopeful that I would have another baby and get to live the infant stage again.

This time, unless things in my world drastically change, there will be no more babies. I am truly okay with that, it is the right decision for our family on all levels. I have been miscarrying, pregnant, trying to get pregnant, and/or nursing since January 2006. I've had quite a run. And that might be part of it, too. I spent so much time getting and staying pregnant and focusing on babies, it is very difficult to switch that off.

I know that a child growing older is not something to mourn. It is the way life is supposed to be. I am supposed to be celebrating. And, don't get me wrong, I am celebrating. I am so proud of my little girl and how amazing she is. I seriously lucked out BIG TIME in how easy she was on me in this first year. That is something to party about in and of itself.

But I still get a bit weepy as I fold those tiny little clothes that she will never wear again. And smile as I get out the new ones that she will wear tomorrow.

Let Go and Letting Go

2011-07-03T08:40:00.001-07:00

I was downsized from my part time job this last week. Even though it had dwindled to just a few hours a week over the last few months, the money was nice and I like keeping my resume updated. It was a small paycheck, but it helped with groceries. When I was working the 20 hours a week in the beginning, it was a bit overwhelming. I liked the money, sure, but it was difficult staying up until well after midnight several nights a week in order to get all of the work done.

A few months ago, the work abruptly slowed way down. At first, I was concerned that my performance was an issue. But I discussed this with my boss and he said that it was just that they were looking for more work for us to do (another woman did the same job as me). She had the same downturn in assignments so I felt confident it wasn't personal.

There were spikes in work, occasional assignments to get done, over the past few months, but nothing consistent. Some weeks there was no work at all. I guess you could say that the writing was on the wall. When the other woman who did my job quit back in May, there was a bit of an increase in work, but not much.

I had a weekly call-in with my boss, and he had not answered the phone for the past two weeks. I would send follow-up e-mails to him to let him know that I had tried calling (they don't check the voicemail on the line I would call in on) and didn't hear anything back. Until late Wednesday, when I got a brief e-mail that let me know there had been some "changes" going on and that he needed to talk to me [cue scary music] the next day.

We talked, he explained some behind-the-scene things that have been going on since March. He was kind, let me know that he didn't want to do this, but my contract was being eliminated, effective the next day.

I know it's not personal, I know there are financial reasons behind why my position was eliminated. A full time person in the same department was let go on Monday. But it still feels personal, you know? This is actually the first time in my life I have been "let go" from a job. I know I am fortunate to have made it this long.

M and I have talked about it and I am going to keep my eyes open for something else, but I am also going to try and relax for the summer with the kids. There are a lot of little projects around the house that I can finally get done. In the fall, I will increase my efforts to find something. Even though the workload had dramatically decreased, it was still always on my mind, a kind of underlying "stressor" and feeling that something needed to be done. I have to admit, it has been kind of freeing these past couple of days, when I would go through my mental checklist of things to be done, and when I thought "work" and I could immediately think "nope, not anymore". I honestly don't work for the income (nice as it is) as much as for keeping my resume active for the day when I will go back to work. Explaining a short gap (a few months at most) will be a lot easier than explaining years of no work. . . well, at least that is my hope.

So, here's to an unexpected summer "break"!

Drama, Drama

2011-07-02T21:16:00.000-07:00

I am not sure what is going on, but I have had a couple of people contact me after getting "weird" comments from me in the past two days.

So. . . if you get a comment that doesn't sound like something I would usually say to you, kindly assume it is not me. I am trying to sort out exactly what is going on and fix it.

Please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. Sorry for the drama/confusion.

House Rules

2011-06-24T14:06:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you so much for the kind and supportive comments. I have seen others post about things like this and get some. . . divisive comments. . . so I am so glad that it stayed positive AND that others shared similar frustrations. It's so good to feel a little less alone in this situation.

We instigated "House Rules" last week. Before each and every interaction with other children and throughout the day, Will was reminded of our "House Rules". The rules are:

1) No hitting.

2) No spitting.

3) No yelling.

4) Have fun.

We then prompt him on what to do if someone does something to him that he doesn't like. He is to say: "Please stop that, I don't like that."

If the person persists, then he is allowed to come get a mommy (or daddy) to help him resolve the situation.

We had less hitting this past week. I saw him utilize the "Please stop that" with a friend. Of course, it's just one week and, I've seen improvement before, only to have it come back full force.

I do want him to figure out how to resolve things on his own and I don't want to encourage tattling (a potential pitfall to the "come get me" idea). BUT I think tattling is easier to deal with (especially from the perspective of the victim) and I am willing to trade hitting for tattling.

I have also been keeping a notebook with me, detailing things that I am noticing about our day together. Will sleeps well at night and still (KNOCK ON WOOD) takes a solid nap, so I don't worry about him being tired per se, but I have noticed that some of the hitting incidents are happening toward the end of playdates when the kids are definitely winding down and the moms are distracted with picking up toys or shuttling things out to the car. So, I have made a committment to end playdates earlier than I have been. This is admittedly a difficult thing for me to do. If things are going well, I really don't want to leave, but I remember reading in a parenting book somewhere that the age of the youngest children in years is how many hours a playdate should last. So, I started cutting our playdates off at two and a half hours. The trick with this one is how to not make leaving earlier than his other friends seem like a punishment, but so far, he seems okay with it.

The problem, of course, with employing several tactics at one time is that I will never know if it was just one thing I tried or the magic combination. In any case, the big test with obviously be this weekend in the church nursery (we were out of town this last Sunday and so he didn't go). I'll keep you posted.

Speaking of keeping you posted. . . plans for Emma's birthday-palooza are in full-swing. We have picked a theme: under the sea! We have a pretend fish tank and Emma loves the "sish". She and her daddy will sit and point to the "sish" for several minutes every night. Last week, M came home with one of these for her crib, which I quietly thought was probably too young of a toy for her. I was wrong. She loves it and gazes up at it in awe each night as she is tucked in to bed. "Sish" was her third word and anytime we walk by a fish tank, she starts getting super excited, pointing and alternating between "wha da" and "sish"!

And I always think a theme just makes it easier to decide on everything. . . from food, to decorations, to games, to cake. In this case, it definitely has. Our menu is decided: submarine sandwiches (pun so intended), shell shaped pasta salad, jell-o jigglers in marine shapes, a Goldfish cracker "bar", and of course, cake.

I am still trying to decide on a cake. My girlfriend, who just started her own cake decorating business, got a contract for her first wedding on the day of Emma's party, so I am going to make the cake myself. I found this amazing creation (seriously, click on it), but I know it's probably a bit too adventurous for me to attempt. I like this cake and am then thinking of making that her smash cake and then making these cupcakes for the guests. The cupcakes look fairly easy to me, the cake looks a bit harder, but if I mess it up, eh. It's her smash cake, after all. It's just gonna get smashed.

Even M has gotten into the spirit and wants to do a fishing game of sorts where the kids get to "fish" for their goody bags. And then, there is a playground, and I will bring a bubble machine and chalk, even if it all went to waste last time, it is easy to stick in the back of the car and have just in case.

I feel like the plan is coming together and I don't even think it will be that stressful. I hope, anyway. The sandwiches are ordered and we will pick them up on the way to the park. I plan on making the pasta salad on Thursday (I think pasta salad tastes better if made the day or two before anyway) and then putting it into covered 9x13 dishes and then putting those into shallow pans that I will fill with ice the day of the party. I am going to make the jigglers on Thursday, too. I think cake just tastes so much better fresh, so I will probably save that until Friday, but I don't think they will be that difficult.

I am not going to decorate much - just colored plastic covers for the tables and balloons. So, I think getting there about an hour before the party is to start will suffice. I just have to throw out the decorations and food. I will have M arrive with the birthday girl right at 11. We'll eat, do the cake smashing, open presents, and bam! Done!

So, there we are. How are you?

"THAT" Kid

2011-06-20T17:29:00.000-07:00

From time to time, I have posted on here about Will being a biter. . . or a hitter. . . and now we add spitter to the list.

Ugh.

Yesterday, when I went to retrieve him from the church nursery, the person in charge (who also happens to be one of the directors for the preschool) told me that he had several "spitting and hitting incidents" during his time there yesterday. It is always a madhouse at pick-up, so I wasn't able to clarify, but it really doesn't matter what the "story" was, because I 100% trust that she was telling the truth, and hitting. . . now spitting. . . is WRONG.

When does this sort of aggression change from normal developmental phase ("Oh, it's normal! He'll outgrow it!" people love to tell me) to not-so-normal ("Ma'am, your son has been expelled for fighting at school." or "Ma'am, this is X County Jail. We have your son."? I mean, I don't think I am the best person to judge whether this is normal. A) He's my kid, my perception is decidedly skewed. B) I tend to go all "worst-case-scenario" on things and not take them in stride. I realize A) and B) might seem to cancel each other out, but they really don't. Instead, I alternate between trying to ride out the storm and assume it will pass and then freaking the freak OUT that my kid is becoming "THAT" Kid.

You know the one? The one that you don't want your kid to play with. I'm afraid that he is going to become "THAT" Kid very quickly. He starts preschool this fall (for real this time) and I am a little scared about this becoming a bigger issue. And honestly, I have no idea what to do about it. I have tried a lot of different approaches to this problem. It seems to "cure" it for awhile, but then it comes back. It does seem cyclical, though I can't tie it to anything in particular, I just notice it comes in waves. I have asked everyone (family and friends IRL, our pediatrician, you fabulous people inside my computer) for advice and most people seem to think he is "just fine" and that it will sort itself out. The things people have suggested (time outs, paying no attention to the hitter and all of it to the hittee, taking away toys, leaving play dates immediately, taking away privileges, a sticker chart for "positive (no hit) play dates", are just some examples) don't seem to have any long-lasting impact.

Since he was ten months old and started biting, then started hitting at 15 months (me first and then gradually his playmates), and now more of that plus spitting (which is another form of physical aggression), this has been a recurrent issue. I do believe he is a sweet boy, but this is worrying me.

What I find frustrating is that this is a child who has not been treated with aggression or observed it here at home. Is that my problem? Should I resort to spanking? I have never been able to understand the thinking behind "Don't hit or I will spank you". Yes, I know, children are not logical, therefore we cannot apply our logical thinking to their thought process and come up with anything close to what their little minds have brewing. But the times that I have used physical discipline, I haven't found it any more effective, and it's not a style of parenting that I* feel comfortable with, so it's very difficult to be consistent with it.

Sigh.

If anyone has any good advice for me or can sit in camaraderie with me (ex: "My child was a hitter but now is not a sociopath, I promise!"), I would really appreciate it. Do you think this is an issue worth making an appointment with our pediatrician for? He turns three in August and we will have his well child exam then. I will definitely bring it up at that point, but I am wondering if I shouldn't go in before then? But again, I have asked her about this before, and she hasn't given me any sort of solid advice. I know she leaves it up to parents to figure out discipline (and I think that's appropriate). I do know she isn't really on board with spanking and does employ timeouts, but I am just not finding that effective in this area. While I adore our pediatrician, I am not sure this is really her jurisdiction, you know? But then again, if it really is becoming an issue, she is the one who I would want to refer us out for other assistance.

* I am not sitting in judgment of anyone who spanks their children. Many of my friends to employ spanking and It just doesn't feel right for me, personally. And I believe the most effective discipline is consistent discipline. And I just can't be consistent in that way. But then again, my child is the one with the hitting problem, so Dr. Sears, I clearly am not! :)

Party Time (a deux)

2011-06-19T00:28:00.000-07:00

I seem to have a habit of writing serious posts and then alternating them with things of a more "day-to-day" nature. I shall continue this tradition by talking about Emma's first birthday party.

Wait. . . [insert screeching tires noise here]. . . did I just say. . . yes, I did.

That's right. My little baby will be turning one year old in just a month. She is turned eleven months old yesterday.

It's insanity. I mean, it went by so fast with Will, and it's going by even faster with her. I don't even know where the time went.

So, you might remember, I went all out for Will's first birthday. I feel as if he had a wonderful first birthday party. I wouldn't change a thing. But I also really stressed out over it and was much smarter last year, I hosted a much smaller party. Because of the smaller size, was able to have it someplace where someone else did all of the work. Consequently, I was far less stressed, and he had an amazing time.

One thing I am always conscious of with Emma, however, is that Baby #2 gets a lot less special attention. It's not that I love my sweet baby girl less, but the bottom line is, each of them get less of everything when there are two. So, I feel a need to do her first birthday up right. I don't want her to look back at pictures of Will's first birthday and wonder where her first birthday-palooza was.

Now, lest you think I am always looking into my baby book and finding it lacking, rest assured, I don't. But I am oldest. I always feel as if I got plenty. My sister, the middle child, is always talking about how she got less. And, to be very honest, before I had a second child, I kind of always discounted her feelings on this. Now that I have two, I kind of get it.

So. . . we are doing a birthday-palooza for Emma, too. Like Will's party, it will be at a local park. I rented the picnic shelter by the playground. We did pizza for Will's first and it was pretty easy. But I was thinking (because I am clearly insane) of doing a taco bar for Emma's birthday. I am thinking it wouldn't be too difficult. I could do pans of refried beans and rice (made the day or two before) and warm them in the oven, then a pan of taco meat, and I could do shredded chicken in a crockpot. Super easy. Taco shells and tortillas, corn chips, salsa, shredded cheese, chopped tomatoes, sour cream, and olives. I think I could do all of that for around $100 (I am a bargain shopper). I also went to a party tonight where they had a "quesadilla bar", which I thought was awesome. They had all of the quesadillas premade and then they put them on a griddle to warm them. Then they were sliced and put on plates. You can serve a lot of people this way. BUT do I really want to be grilling quesadillas at my kid's party? Probably not. So, maybe a no on the quesadillas. But I still think it's a great idea, so feel free to steal it.

It was $85 (with tip) for pizza. I think I should just stick with that. It's a lot of work to do the taco thing. But I guess I just want something different.

I also thought about pulled pork sandwiches. I have a great crockpot recipe for that, so I could make it all the day before and then I have several friends who would lend me their crockpots to keep it warm the day of. Some potato salad, some chips, and buns, and we'd be set. Yeah, that seems like a good idea when I type it here. LOL! Sometimes, my blogging takes me directions I didn't even intend as I write. It just sounds easy. And tasty. And I think cost-effective? Pork roast is inexpensive this time of year. I'll bet I could do it for the same price as pizza (maybe less) and it would be something yummy and different.

Then for beverages, I'm all about the 2-liters, bottled water, and juice boxes for the kids. I have been shopping sales for that already.

And then I definitely want to do some sort of candy bar as the "goodie bag". I always love this idea when I see it. I saw a really cute idea on-line for a healthier version, with goldfish crackers, raisins, yogurt-covered-pretzels, etc. So, I am still deciding whether to go healthy or naughty (or a mix).

My girlfriend makes cakes, so I'm set there, no matter what I choose. But I love this one. I also like this idea (with the cake on top being her smash cake and the cupcakes for the guests).

And. . . well, there is a playground, so no games.

And. . . I think that's it. I need a theme, but I am thinking about something cute like polka dots and just lots of fun colors. Balloons, some table covers in mixed primaries, and that's it.

Do you have any other good ideas for me? Or thoughts on the food?

What Defines Us

2011-06-16T00:30:00.000-07:00

I recently have been delving into the "anti-vaccine" world. I stepped in there because of concerns I had about Emma's reactions to the pneumococcal vaccine. She had a very high fever in all instances (104) post-vaccination, when she is not a fever-runner (unlike her brother) under normal circumastances (when she is sick, she might run 100 - 101 or so) She also was extremely irritable, restless, and unable to sleep. Very unlike her normal self. This happened all three times she received the vaccine. So it had me concerned, and I started googling. And I was horrified by what I found.

This post is not about being pro or anti vaccine. What it is about is the disturbing elements that I see coming out in parents on either side of the divide. I walked away from both pro and anti vaccination sites, gaining nothing but a bad taste in my mouth, lots of rhetoric, and very little fact, data, or substantiated information on either side. Even after spending hours, researching, asking questions, and being on both types of sites, I was no closer to having any answers. If anything, I was even more confused.

Do you know what else I noticed? It was how the moms tore each other apart, up and down, and sideways. And it was all because they disagreed on an approach to parenting. Yes, I agree, this is an important topic, but everyone had the same intention: to do the right thing for their children. Yet that often got lost as each side argued their own talking points. When I asked for data or for someone to cite the source of a fact they mentioned, I was ridiculed, scorned, called names. . . an the sources were never cited and my questions were never answered. And this was not just on pro or anti vaccines sites. This was on both. And I made 100% to be nothing but polite and respectful in my queries, all to no avail.

It was an incredibly sad experience. After spending days looking into this topic, I found a common thread between the two camps: FEAR. The pro-vaccination folks fear that they are doing something wrong by vaccinating their kids, that they will unintentionally harm them by trying to do what's best. They are scared that there will be a study that proves their side wrong. The anti-vaccination folks fear that they are doing something wrong by not vaccinating their kids, that they will unintentionally harm them by trying to do what's best. They are scared that there will be a study that proves their side wrong. The funny thing is that the parents on both side this issue have so much in common, share the same fears, are looking for the same confirmation and in failing to find it, lash out at each other.

That is what is so sad. Both sides with the same goal, finding themselves fearing the opposite side because it represents what they are afraid of. What if the parents on BOTH sides banded together and demanded better research, more data, and overall more indepth looks at this issue. How powerful would that be? Two sides, together instead of divided? It would be impossible to ignore. Yet two sides of the same coin battle each other and the ultimate question goes unanswered.

I see this recur with everything parenting-related. Whether it's breastfeeding, television with kids under two, blah, blah, blah. . . FEAR is an incredible divider with moms. FEAR is what defines so many choices and how we react to the choices of others. Can't we all just see that we are scared of failing? Of not living up to the expectations we set for ourselves? And can't we be just a bit kinder to each other on this journey? And can't we band together to really get the answers we are looking for?

I know, I have ruminated on varieties of this topic before. I am just so frustrated by what I see.

And I don't know how to change it.

The Circle of Life Sucks Sometimes

2011-06-12T22:26:00.000-07:00

Today, I was burbling Emma's tummy, kissing and loving on her. Ever since we had walked into my MIL's house, she wanted nothing to do with anyone but me. I loved every second of it, and before I thought about what I was saying, I called her a"momma's girl."

I looked up and saw the look of pain in my sister-in-law's eyes. I knew RIGHT THEN the full truth of the matter: I have become one of them. I am one of the belly-rubbing, diaper-bag-toting, kid-snot-wiping FERTILES. With not one, BUT TWO, children.

Except I am not.

Because at that very moment, watching the pain in her eyes, I hated myself as much as she did.. . for hurting her, for causing her the same pain others used to cause me.

Later, I talked to her, let her know that not a day goes by that I don't think of her and those two baby girls. She cried and so did I. She is still bleeding, still producing milk, still grieving. I told her I was sorry for earlier and that I know that watching that would have killed me four years ago. She nodded and admitted, "It is hard."

At least we can talk about it.

But it still is awful.

And I hate it.

Packing Up

2011-06-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

I hate it when my kids go away.

Wait. . . let me rephrase that. I love the fact that my MIL is so amazing that she not only offers, she BEGS to take Will for a weekend here and there, and that she is now taking Emma, too. She had both of them over our anniversary weekend and they (and, possibly more importantly, SHE) did awesome. We were at a hotel about 15 minutes from her house, which was comforting to all of us, in case she needed back-up, but she never did. This weekend is my birthday (3!2! How did that happen?) and M's, too, and she is taking the kiddos so we can have a day together to celebrate and relax.

Anyway, I appreciate so. very. much. the fact that she takes them. And I know that they have a great time at her house. In fact, I wish there was a place that I could go where a kindly Gramma and Nana doted on every single thing I did, made all of my very favorite foods, took me all of my very favorite places, and generally just spoiled the heck out of me.

Don't get me wrong. I really do look forward to sleeping in, taking a bath until my fingers prune, and getting miscellaneous projects done around the house that are difficult to do while the kids are here (Example: organizing their closets - HOW does anyone else DO that? When they are awake, they want to "help," which is ANYthing but "helpful" and if they are napping, then I can hardly be in there, organizing their closets!) I really am excited that I will get to out to a meal in a nice restaurant, eat that meal, while it is HOT, with both hands, and not have to stop and ask someone to "Please, eat your carrots" or "Please, do not throw your carrots". M and I are going to go see a movie! Yes, we are crazy people with all of these plans to organize closets, go to dinner, and see a movie. But to be honest, kids haven't changed us much. We've always been this lame.

But I digress.

Apart from all of the wonderful things that we will get to do over the next 48 hours, what I ultimately dislike, is that I have to be without my kids. I know that I am a better mom when I get a break. This week has been tough, what with the Great Chocolate Cow Slaughtering of 2011, but also just the fact that he has been rather obstinate and done a lot of misbehaving this week. And Emma has been teething, in what apparently is her bid to make the Guiness Book of World Records for Longest Time It Has EVER Taken For A Ten Month Old To Push Through a Molar. So it hasn't been an easy week. A break does sound rather nice.

But every time I pack them to go anywhere where I won't be for more than a few hours, I get a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. As I fold little Lightening McQueen and WALL-E underwear and put in extra pull-ups, I get paranoid that I am not putting in enough. When he gets stressed, he tends to have accidents. So for a two night stay, he has fourteen pairs of underwear. You know, just in case. I put in every type of jacket/coat that he owns because. . . what if we get a freak snowstorm in June - should I put in his winter hat? I put in three pairs of shoes and his rainboots. Oh, wait, I forgot his rain jacket!

For Emma, my paranoia manifests itself in DANGEROUS quantities of food being made. Remember, they will be gone for just two days. Emma eats a LOT of regular table food now and she is to the point where she wants to feed herself and gets impatien with purees. And my MIL is also a "feeder" and will have PLENTY of food options for her. But that seems not to really wriggle into my consciousness, because I have made three HUGE canisters of food. I mean, this girl couldn't eat this amount of food in a WEEK here at home if she tried. It's kind of ridiculous. Scratch that, it's plain ridiculous.

It takes me HOURS to pack them. It shouldn't. My MIL has made her house into a kid-wonderland. They need no toys, books, bath stuff, bedding, etc. She has it ALL. Even a potty chair for Will. And YET, I will have two large suitcases, two Castco resuable bags filled with random stuff, and I will still obsess over whether I packed enough. And I do this EVERY time. My MIL makes gentle jokes (she isn't being mean, it's just honestly rather crazy) about it and just lets it go and gives me a hug.

Each time they are about to go away, I PROMISE that I will minimize and not pack half of our house for them. And each time, I overpack despite my best intentions. Because as I pack, I keep thinking, "But what if they need something while they are gone?"

It takes no psychologist to see what is going on here, though if you are a psyschologist (or any other type of professional who might be able to help me with this issue), please weigh in. I think the problem is, I can't pack myself into their bags, and I worry that what they really might need is ME. And it really, truly, honestly doesn't bother me that they do JUST FINE without me. I love that. I just worry about if they DON'T do okay. And I somehow think if I pack Will's Buzzlightyear bandaids, the owie won't hurt as much.

Anyway, I am going back to packing now. Do you think Emma needs three sunhats or four?

One of Those Days

2011-06-08T21:31:00.001-07:00

So I wrote a touching post about life with two, and now it's time for the flip side. There are "Most Days" and then there are "One of THOSE Days".

Today was one such day.

Will was pretty much opposed to doing anything, be it put on his clothes, go in the potty, eat his breakfast without flinging it everywhere, and. . . well, it just goes on and on. Everything was a battle.

Fortunately, I didn't have to push it today. It was cloudy and rainy, we had no plans, needed nothing urgently from the store, and had no appointments to make. So, after our fifth timeout within an hour of him getting out of bed, I decided today was going to be a stay home and do nothing kind of day. I still had to tussle with him to get anything accomplished, but at least I wasn't in public, or trying to wrangle Emma at the same time. It worked pretty well for the most part.

This afternoon, after his nap, we went downstairs and he asked for chocolate milk. In our house, chocolate milk is a sippy cup of milk with a "dot" of chocolate syrup poured in and then shaken (not stirred). For him, the best part of the chocolate milk experience is getting to help pour in the small dot and then do the shake, shake, shaking. I had just started to get the milk out of the fridge and the syrup from the pantry, when I heard Emma upstairs. I told Will to hold on a second while I went upstairs to get Emma to join us for snack time. I out the chocolate back on the fourth shelf of the pantry (strategically placed above a certain toddler's reach).

Of course, Emma had a dirty diaper that took me a few minutes to change, but I was headed back downstairs in less than five minutes. As I started down, my son started upstairs, his hands held up above his head in "I surrender" fashion and uncertainly calling, "Mommy. . ."

What I saw coming towards me from the bottom of the stairs made my heart stop beating. It looked as if Will was covered in dark blood. I gasped and started taking the steps two at a time. As I got closer, I realized that the dark coating wasn't red, but brown. My next thought? That he had smeared poo poo all over himself.

"Will! Is that poo poo?" I cried.

"No, Mommy," he responded earnestly. "It's chocolate. I made a mess."

I was actually relieved for a moment (as blood or poo was a far worse alternative in my mind). But as I rounded the corner and saw the scene before me, I reversed my relief.

It basically looked as if someone had slaughtered a chocolate cow. It was easy to follow his path of destruction. A chair had been pulled over to the pantry to retrieve the chocolate syrup.

From there, he took the syrup to the counter and tried to pour some in a cup. FAIL. The chocolate dripped down the counter and onto the floor. Next, he apparently decided that the coffee table would make it easier to pour since it was at his level, so there was a huge puddle of chocolate on the table. . . and next to it, another puddle the size of a salad plate on my beautiful (albeit secondhand) Potterybarn rug.

This is apparently when he panicked and realized he'd better clean up his act. He had then gone to the bathroom (but made sure to track through the chocolate puddle on his way thankyouverymuch) and gotten my good (cream colored) guest towels and brought them back to the scene of the crime where he daubed the towels through the puddles and swathed more chocolate around the carpet. That didn't work, so he figured a big wad of toilet paper might just do the trick. The wad sat, a mass clump of chocolate ooey gooey-ness. When that didn't work, he came to get me. That's when I found him, chocolate covered Will, coming up the stairs, leaving chocolate covered footprints every step of the way.

Oh, and the dog pranced through it, too. I counted 31 different spots greater than a baseball on my (very light tan colored) carpet. I didn't count the stains smaller than that. It was too depressing.

I was proud of myself. I stayed very calm. I took his soiled clothes off and wiped him down with some wipes. I told him that I was very disappointed in him and that he had made a naughty choice. I told him to go to his room until I was done cleaning up his mess. Shoulders sagging and starting to cry, he took himself up to his room and dutifully stayed there while I scrubbed furniture and carpets.

I went up to him after I was done cleaning and helped get him into new clothes. I told him that his punishment will be no chocolate milk for a week. And whenever he has asked for chocolate milk, I have reminded him that because of what he did, there is no more syrup and therefore, he cannot have chocolate milk.

What is most amazing about this whole story is how quickly he was able to make such a huge mess. Had I heard a story like this before I had children, I would have blamed the parent (why weren't they watching more carefully, why did they leave the pantry unlocked, etc.). Now that I am a mom, I know how very quickly these little ones work and also that there are just certain things you don't expect. He has never done anything even close to this before and I am still shocked by it.

Soap and water, six different types of carpet cleaners, vinegar, OxyClean, and a steam cleaner have failed to remove the stains thus far. A friend has recommended vodka. Apparently, your carpets might not be any cleaner, but you won't care.

I guess it's just one of those days.

Most Days

2011-06-02T22:12:00.001-07:00

Potty training is going better. We reverted to basics, with Will getting a treat from his Daddy every day he stayed dry (instead of a treat for using the potty each time). We had no accidents until today, when his Gramma was visiting, and he got distracted and excited. But overall, it has been a vast improvement.

We also had a major transition last week. We took the front rail off of Will's crib, transitioning him to the toddler bed (i.e., open access to the upstairs of our house - eek!). He got to go with his Daddy to pick out new bedding ("Buzz! Lightyear! And! Woody!") and he was so thrilled. After M took the rail off and we made the bed with his new sheets, he kept jumping around, clapping his hands, saying, "Thank you for my new big boy bed, Mommy and Daddy!"

It has been five nights and, so far, his nighttime sleep has been unchanged. Naps have been a bit more of a challenge, but he is still taking them for the most part. It just takes him a lot longer to settle down. So I have to start naptime about an hour before I really want himto take a nap or his naps get too late. Trial and error. This morning was the first time he got himself out of bed in the morning and he gave me a mini-heart attack when he just appeared in the kitchen this morning while I was feeding Emma. But it was kind of neat to have him just join me for the day.

Emma is changing so much lately. Each day, she is a little less infant and a little more toddler. She says the following words: fish (sounds like sish - but she points to Will's pretend fish tank and says it), kitty (sounds like kittah - but again, pointing to the kitty), daddy (pointing to her daddy), uh-oh (used appropriately after she drops something, usually her binky), and thank you (sounds like tan tew, but is also used appropriately after she is handed her binky back or an especially yummy food treat). Notice mama is missing from the list. Will did the same thing to me, teasing me with saying words like "thank you," but not saying mama. Kids!

She also crawls like a champ, pulls herself up, and cruises around furniture. She "dances," claps, plays peek-a-boo, blows a kiss, waves, and pantomines to "If You're Happy and You Know It" (hooray is her favorite part). She has the. best. baby. laugh ever. Ever. I really need to get it on film. It is a deep belly laugh that makes everyone in hearing distance laugh right along with her.

I won't tell you how much she sleeps because you would stop reading my blog in protest. Just know this: I didn't do anything to train her to sleep this way. Don't get me wrong. I do believe you can guide your baby's sleep habits, but I also firmly believe that they are born to sleep (and eat and actually do a lot of stuff) a certain way. I did sleep train Will, but I didn't really have to do anything to sleep train Emma. And I live every day feeling a mixture of gratitude (that she sleeps so well) and fear (that she will stop being a good sleeper and since I didn't "make" her one, I won't know how to help her sleep well again). Because I like my sleep. I find that a good night's rest helps me deal so much better with the challenges of parenting two young children every day.

Because let me tell you: these two keep me busy. It's a good busy. It's the type of busy where I fall into bed every night exhausted. But it's still very busy and being well-rested makes me able to have the energy I need to keep up with them.

Last June, I was wondering how on earth I would be a mom to two children. This June, I don't worry about how I will do it any more. If you are worried about how you will parent two children, here is my Top Secret Trick To Parening Two: I just do it. I don't do it perfectly, but I do it. And I really do believe that my children are happy. Sure, there are days when M walks through the door and I am throwing a baby and/or toddler at him and running upstairs to just catch my breath, days when I worry that I am not being a great mom. But most days? Most days are pretty darn amazing and I am very grateful that this is my life.

Two Steps Forward, One Poo Back

2011-05-23T20:22:00.001-07:00

I first of all wanted to follow up from my post yesterday and thank you being your usual supportive, loving selves. I appreciate each of you so much.

Lest you think I am all about lollipops and sunshine here, let me remind you that I am also realistic. I know that every day of parenting brings its unique challenges.

I was oh-so-humbly reminded of this the past three days as Will has hit a big obstacle in potty training. . . the potty training regression.

I had heard rumors of this phenomenon, but was hoping we'd somehow dodge this bullet. After all, Will took to potty training like a duck to water. We encountered none of the other struggles that I'd heard about, so I was hoping that we'd just keep. . . progressing.

No such luck.

Since Saturday, he has had a lot of accidents - both poo and pee. This is a kid who I would have counted as 100% day trained as of last Friday.

But Saturday morning, he started telling me that his "penis stings." He has a small adhesion from his circumcision that he occasionally complains about. We have been treating it with a steroid cream and if it's still bothering him at age 3, we will see a urologist to have it corrected. But he only complains irregularly about it and it isn't infected or red, so we usually just apply the cream as needed and it isn't a huge issue.

So, when he complained Saturday morning, I applied the cream. We went to my SIL's wedding and were gone all day, where he didn't complain of any burning and used the potty normally.

But Saturday night, he had an accident at the dinner table. I thought perhaps it was because he was tired from a busy day and not paying attention.

Sunday, he had three more accidents, including a poo poo in his underwear not five minutes after I had him sit on the toilet. Today, he only had one accident, but again, it was less than ten minutes after sitting on the potty. Each time, I have not made a big deal about the incident, have simply reminded him that poo and pee pee go in the toilet, quickly cleaned up, and gone about our day.

He has not complained about his penis "stinging" since Saturday. His urine isn't cloudy or foul smelling and he doesn't complain about any other sort of pain or have a fever (possible indicators for a urinary tract infection). Part of me wonders if we should have him checked out, but most of me thinks it is just a good old fashioned potty training regression. I made an appointment with our pediatrician for next week (she is tough to get into), so that if we are still having any issues by then, we can go in and discuss it and rule out an underlying medical issue. If it's better, we'll just cancel the appointment and continue on.

I have been able to keep potty training (and the expected accidents that go with it) very positive, but I'll admit, this is throwing me a bit. We went back to basics today, and I realized that I had become a bit complacent, asking instead of telling him if it was time to sit on the potty, and relaxing about keeping track of when he had gone last. Like I said, potty training is just as much about training the parents as the kids. So, back to basics for me, too.

So, any other advice on potty training regressions would be helpful.

I Just Don't Think It's Funny

2011-05-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

I am having a problem.

I am tired of infertility and loss. People keep telling me that I should be over and done with it. But how can I get over something that is still happening? Just because it isn't happening to me doesn't mean that it is over.

I am so mad about my sister-in-law's loss. I am so angry about it that I could just spit.

I am so infuriated about Jen's loss. It makes me want to hit something (for the record, I am not a violent person and the only thing I have ever hit is a pillow. . . so that gives you an idea of how upset it makes me).

I don't know if this is normal. I mean, to be honest, I feel as if my perspective is just a bit too far skewed lately.

Let me give you an example. Did you see that "Go the F*ck to Sleep" book that circulated around the internet last week? I received it through two separate e-mails, saw it on countless FB walls, and it came across my Twitter feed half a dozen times.

That book makes me mad. The book makes me want to tell parents to "Grow the F*ck Up." You have been blessed with a child to rock to sleep. Do you know how many women and men would kill for that honor and privilege?

One of my friends pointed out that it's easy for me to feel this way, because my kids sleep well. Well, they didn't always. My blog is a living, breathing record of Will's poor sleep, especially when he was a newborn. But even after he started sleeping well, he still is a sensitive sleeper and our bedtime routine for him is lengthy and includes stories, "rock-rock", and songs. From my "logical" brain, I know that the book is just making light of the fact that kids and their endless stream of "needs" and "wants" can drive a person a little. . . twitchy. I am not going to sit here and post that I never feel tired, frustrated, or just ready to plunk Will and Emma in their beds and head downstairs to conk out in front of the television. I'm human, I get tired, so I "get it".

But then, I think of all the women whose arms are empty, still waiting. And I think of my friend, Elizabeth. Her daughter, Peyton, was diagnosed with a terminal pediatric brain tumor in November. They are living each day at a time, knowing that days are all they have left. Days, people. Months, if they are lucky.

And Ben Towne's mommy? She would give her life - the very breath from her body - to be able to read her son a bedtime story just one more time. Or to get him a drink of water. Or whatever he wanted. She'd get it for him and thank her lucky stars, no matter the time of day or night.

But. . . I don't know if this is normal. To read this story that everyone else on the planet thinks is funny and to almost have a rage-like reaction to it? Oh, and this? This is just an example. Lately, I just feel as if my sense of humor has been misplaced. I can't see things as funny when I see so many good people hurting. This isn't to say that I never laugh or that I feel angry all of the time. But when it comes to things like this, I am decidedly "off".

What is wrong with me?

Life Goes On

2011-05-21T23:22:00.000-07:00

My sister-in-law got married today. It was a beautiful ceremony at a family member's house on a lake. It was bittersweet to watch her and her new husband exchange their vows. There were two baby girls so poignantly missing, yet it was beautiful to see that their love for each other has endured the past few weeks and seems stronger for what they have lost. It was briefly mentioned in the ceremony, but other than that, it was almost as if they had never been.

The D&E was a horrible, painful, three-day ordeal that I can't imagine surviving, but she is a strong woman. She and her husband took a very scientific approach to this situation. They chose a D&E so that they didn't have to view the babies and there was no opportunity for footprints, pictures, gowns, anything. They donated the bodies to science and they will be buried in a mass grave in Seattle after that. They didn't name the babies or really do anything that would. . . personalize things.

My MIL is having a very hard time dealing with the way that they decided to proceed. I have to admit, it is so different than what I think I would have chosen. Not that they made a wrong choice and mine would be right or vice versa. It's just different, and again, I don't know what I would actually do in their same situation. It isn't for me or anyone else to say, it just makes it diffjcult to know how to approach her. I don't know if she wants to talk about the girls or just. . . not. I thought about getting her a piece of memorial jewelry, but. . . then, not. I really just feel stuck. And I wish I knew what to say or do. If she is truly doing "okay," I don't want to drag her back down by asking about the girls or her well-being. Then again, I don't want her to think that they are forgotten and I don't care. I have made a point of texting her at least once every day. Not something that requires a response, usually just a quick, "Thinking of you today." I also sent her an e-mail letting her know that I would be here today and down the line, too, if she ever needs someone to talk to. I am also clear that while I have experienced loss, I am in no way comparing our experiences.

In any case, today she was a beautiful bride and married a man that she loves and who loves her.

So.

Life goes on.

So Much Sadness

2011-05-13T21:12:00.001-07:00

My sister in law found out today that both of her daughters have passed away. She would have been 24 weeks pregnant tomorrow. She had an ultrasound yesterday, during which the technician kept saying that everything was perfect. Both girls had heartbeats. She had an appointment with a different doctor today. Both babies are gone. I don't know anything more. Just that we are all brokenhearted.

ETA: More information is starting to come in. Yesterday's ultrasound wasn't a good as my MIL thought. The baby was alive and had a heartbeat (151 BPM), but apparently, there were other indicators that all wasn't well. My MIL did say that Baby B was not as active as Baby A and that its head seemed to be lolling, but the technician said the baby was sleeping. I do think it's weird that the tech would say everything was perfect and even give my MIL a video clip of the babies, but I do know that they aren't really supposed to say anything.

When my SIL arrived at UW today, baby B had already passed (at 11:30 AM). There was a very large, very visible knot in the cords. Basically, the two cords were so wrapped and knotted together. Her fiance called my MIL at 4:30 and told her that Baby A had also died at 2:30 PM. She was given some things to soften her cervix and sent home. She has to return to the medical center tomorrow for the next step in the procedure and then again on Sunday. She will have a D&E on Monday morning and be home Monday afternoon. They will donate the babies' bodies to science.

They will still be getting married next Saturday. There will be no memorial service and they aren't naming the babies (they did have a name picked for one, but they will not officially be naming it).

Any of you with later losses out there. . . how do I comfort my SIL? We have a good relationship but I would not call us "close".

Can't We All Just Get Along?

2011-05-07T10:08:00.001-07:00

Anonymous, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt that I perhaps didn't explain myself clearly enough when I described how Will went #2 at the zoo. This was the comment:

"Yeah, let your not-even-3-year-old go potty by themselves at the zoo. Great idea. Not to mention the incredible amount of germs he probably touched since you were not in there. Good parenting."

This is what I had posted:

He still is shy about pooping in front of me. I know a deuce is on its way when he asks, "Mommy, you leave me alone, please?" I honor his request and stand outside of the stall, keeping the door shut with my hand and feeling a mixture of pride and a tug of sadness that he's "got this" on the other side.

To clarify, here is what I did:

I walked him in to the stall itself, helped him get his pants and underwear down, put one of our very own seat liners down, and physically put him on the potty. I then crouched right in front of him and he nicely asked me to leave him alone, and I believe respecting the privacy of my not-yet-three year old is important when he needs private time to use the bathroom. I certainly don't like an audience, so I appreciate this need. So, while guess you could say he was "alone," I was on the other side of the stall door, with my hand on the door, keeping it closed. I was within a quick arm's reach of him at all times and opened the door a few times to check on him during his. . .process. When he told me that he was finished, I came in, helped him off of the toilet, wipe and flush, and then pull up his pants. We washed his hands thoroughly with soap and water and used hand sanitizer when we were finished and back at the stroller (oh, and after we fed the birds and visited the petting zoo, too!).

I didn't put all of those details in the last post, because if I could be accused of anything, it would be hovering and protecting my children too much. I guess I figured that any regular readers would have just assumed the above information. I take my parenting and the safety of my children very seriously, so I guess you got my hackles raised with an insinuation to the contrary.

There are two issues within your comment: safety and germs. First and foremost, no, I would not let my children go into a public restroom by themselves. At the zoo, at a restaurant, at the local toddler gym, anywhere. He is just too young. He doesn't go anywhere by himself.

The second issue you raised is exposure to germs. Germs are everywhere. The keyboard you typed your comment on is riddled in icky, nasty germs. The phone you use, the grocery cart you shop with, the book your child reads. Everything has bugs on it. Everyone has bugs on them! In fact, if you were take a nasal swab out of your very own nose? Guess what you'd find? Germs! 25 to 30% of the U.S. population has MRSA (that's the BIG! BAD! SCARY! HOSPITAL DRUG RESISTANT! BACTERIA!) colonizations (that's the presence of the bacteria that is not causing any adverse reactions - infection - in the host). The best thing we can do for our children is to expose them to naturally occuring bacteria while they are young. It builds immunity. Also, there are even good bacterias that live within our body that do good things for us that we need to be healthy. This is why hand sanitizers are somewhat controversial. So, yes, I let my child use public restrooms and toddler gyms and sit in grocery carts. Because I do what I can to keep him healthy, but I also know that he will be exposed to nasties despite my best intentions and you can't keep kids in a bubble. I plan to do the same with Emma. Now, I do realize that some children have special health needs where you might need to be more careful about exposure to germs, but I am blessed with two healthy children so I don't need to be extreme.

Now that I have clarified my actions and my position, what would you have done/do differently? What did you do when you were potty training your children? And if you truly felt my that I had made a poor judgment issue, why the need to be so catty about it? How about offering an alternative or e-mailing me privately? Or both? Your comment doesn't seem to come from a place of true caring and concern for my children, but rather a place of judgment (well, I certainly felt judged).

My bigger issue here? Judging another parent when you didn't know the whole story. It reminds me of the video parodies on this blog. Parents can be so mean to each other. While I hate that; the judgment, the derision, the lack of understanding of another persons' situation, I do love making fun of it, because it is just. so. pointless. We are all on the same team here, even it we might make different plays. I want the very best for my children and I do my very best to make that happen. I stumble along the way, make mistakes, and learn from others. I am sure that if you are a parent, anonymous, you are the same way. We all want the best for children; ours and others. So, why so much competition? Why the need to be derisive?

This isn't just for anonymous. I see this type of stuff everywhere. The MommyWars, the DaddyBattles, whatever you want to call them. And I don't like it. I seek to understand and learn from others. Will we always make the same parenting decisions? Absolutely not! But can we respect diversity along the way? I certainly hope so!

Can't we all just get along?

Milky Blues

2011-05-05T15:22:00.000-07:00

I nursed Will until I was eight weeks pregnant with Emma. By nursing, I mean that I nursed him every morning when he first woke up and then once in the afternoon, right after nap. When I got pregnant, we dropped the afternoon feed pretty much right away. And then one day, we were just done. I don't really even remember the last time I nursed him because weaning was that gentle and uneventful. As my pregnancy progressed and the morning sickness caused me to all but stop eating, my milk supply dropped, and feedings just got shorter and shorter until one day. . . they were gone. I had dreaded weaning, but it turned into a non-event, possibly because he was so ready and I could already envision nursing another baby.

I loved nursing Will. We were forunate in that it was easy for us. We did supplement with formula (for medical reasons in the beginning and then just because he had no issue going back and forth and sometimes it was just easier to give him a bottle as time went on). He had a few nursing strikes where I didn't think we'd make it through, but we did.

When Emma was born, she was a champion nurser. She was also a champion sleeper, which is always a good thing, except that I was super engorged for a few nights in a row and ended up with mastitis. The breast that was affected never quite supplied milk properly after that (I've heard that the infection can make the milk taste funny and she definitely stopped nursing as enthusiastically on that side, which then made the supply drop even further).

I cleared the mastitis and got a kidney infection. The antibiotics gave us both thrush. With a sore mouth, she became less enthusiastic about nursing. My milk supply continued to dwindle. Then another bout of mastitis, which pretty much dried up that breast completely.

About this time, we started supplementing with formula. Unlike Will, Emma had a decided preference for the bottle. It tugged at my heart strings a bit when she so eager glugged down a bottle, but I just wasn't making enough milk to keep up with her.

I would say she was mostly breastfed until she turned six months. Solids took over a big portion of her caloric intake for the day. She still nursed in the morning and afternoon, but she refused the breast at night, screaming for a bottle instead. And this was not the nursing strike that I was familiar with, that I had experienced with Will, where he was just too interested in his surroundings to really focus on nursing. This was a hungry baby that would take both hands and push my breast away with all of her might, twisting her face away from the nipple and angrily protesting the intrusion. When she was finally handed a bottle, she would greedily gulp it down and promptly go right to sleep and stay asleep for 12 hours. If we refused to give her a bottle, she wouldn't settle for sleep, or would fall asleep only to wake multiple times. She would then suck a few times desperately on my nipple, but get frustrated and push it away. It seemed cruel not to give her what she wanted and needed - food. So, finally, we dropped the evening nursing session and just gave her a bottle every night before bed.

Eventually, all feeds but the very first morning feed of the day turned into this battle. Each time, as I handed her a bottle instead of pulling out Da Boob I felt a bit of despair at nursing slipping through my grasp, but it was better not to have to fight the feedings.

Well, for the past couple of weeks, even the morning sessions have been hit or miss. At nine months old, Emma has decided she is "over" Da Boob. I am really trying hard to be okay with this. I know 9 months is an admirable run. I know that there isn't really a lot that I can do about it. I could pump, though I have always been a lousy pumper, and honestly, I don't know where I'd find the time. I know there are people who would tell me to keep fighting it, but that would take away the very part of breastfeeding that I enjoy the most: the bonding and the sweet, natural feeling to it.

Also, I will admit, there is a small part of me that is ready to have my body back; to be able to take medication for a cold or antibiotics for an infection without having to worry about how it will affect the baby.

This is such a small thing, truly. I realize that. Though I have turned into a bona fide "mommy blogger" with my most recent potty training posts, I have not forgotten my roots. I know that my I am grateful that I was able to nurse both of my children for such a long time. But as we are "done" having babies, this is the end of an era. And it tugs my heart strings just a bit.

The Kid Is An Animal

2011-05-04T21:07:00.001-07:00

Well, I have officially become that blogger. You know, the one who just talks about her kids potty habits. My apologies. For those of you who have potty trained, however, you know how it is. Potty and training become your world.

I have to admit, potty training has been much easier than I expected. I think this is largely due to the fact that my kid was R-E-A-D-Y. He has honestly been ready for quite some time. I was the one hemming and hawing. Call me lazy, call me realistic, call me a fan of less laundry, I just didn't see the point.

But three weeks ago, Will started taking off his diapers himself and putting on underwear (albeit inside out and backwards, but still) and wearing them. That's pretty much a neon sign of potty training readiness.

Even then, I deferred until after we got back from a weekend trip to my parents', which added another few days to the wait for Will. So. . . he was raring to go.

We stayed home all last week. He spent the weekend at his Gramma's house, but again, they stayed close to home. He regressed a small bit at Gramma's with both a poo and pee accident, but he has been a rockstar at home.

So.

It was time for an outing.

We went to the zoo today. I brought four pairs of pants, five pairs of undies, two pull-ups, and even a diaper, just as a "break the glass" emergency back up. I am not even kidding. Nervous much?

I knew we would be gone all day and, for some reason, Will becomes an eating machine at the zoo. I think it's the combination of the fresh air and the fact that he runs his legs off when he is there. But he eats and drinks constantly. I know the law of what comes in = what comes out so that added to my nerves.

PEOPLE.

He ROCKED it.

He never had an accident AND. . . AND? He pooped! TWICE. AT THE ZOO.

He still is shy about pooping in front of me. I know a deuce is on its way when he asks, "Mommy, you leave me alone, please?" I honor his request and stand outside of the stall, keeping the door shut with my hand and feeling a mixture of pride and a tug of sadness that he's "got this" on the other side.

Oh, yeah, we had fun at the zoo, too!

So. . . if you've never potty trained a kid, you probably wonder why in the world this is now the third post I have dedicated to this topic. All I have to say is read this post and wait. You'll understand soon.

Oh, and that giveaway post to celebrate the 1000th time I've blawged? I've got a great idea! You will love it. Stay tuned!!!

He's A Big Kid Now

2011-04-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

Um, I looked at my post counter randomly today. . . this is my 991st post. Wow. That I have had that much to say and that so many of you have been around from the beginning to read it all (and keep coming back for more) is nothing short of amazing! I think I might just have to have some sort of giveaway/contest attached to my 1000th post. Yes, actually, I definitely will. So stay tuned for that.

But you know you really came today to check in with me on Will's potty training progress.

People, I am so proud of my (no so) Little Man. Seriously, he has rocked the potty training thing. He has not had an accident since Monday when it just clicked for him that underwear aren't disposable and unlimited.

He has poo pooed several times in the potty now. One time was even at a friend's house. And today's poo poo? He was in his playroom and I was feeding Emma. He came running past me with a frantic look on his face, calling as he ran by, "I need to go poo poo!" And then he did all on his own. Several times now, he has gone potty without my prompting him to do so. He still asks me to "please leave me alone Mommy," which makes me equal parts proud of him for his independence and a little sad that my "baby" doesn't need or want me involved in everything he does anymore. This is good, I know. It's just weird.

I don't really know when a kid is considered 100% potty trained. He is still waking up with a wet diaper in the morning, so I know he is not there yet. But he is doing really well, honestly far better than I expected. He is just so proud of himself and he has every right to be.

I will tell you that Will had pretty much all of the "readiness" signals before I attempted potty training. The boy was READY. Honestly, I probably would have waited until this summer, but when he was taking his own diapers off last week (and pulling them down like underwear and chafing his poor thighs with the adhesive tape) and asking to go potty, I knew it was time to stop dragging my feet.

I have to admit, we have stuck pretty close to home this week, but we have also had two playdates and gone one a couple of walks and he has stayed dry. I do think it's been helpful to stay home where I can focus on reminding him to potty and he get the hang of things on familiar territory, but I am starting to get a bit of cabin fever. Also, I think the real test of this whole potty training success will be being able to continue on with our normal routine. I'll let you know how that goes when I am brave enough to do it!

Training Mom

2011-04-26T13:53:00.001-07:00

Well, we are doing this. And by this, I mean potty training.

I find potty training to be one of the more stressful aspects of parenting, right up there with sleep training and discipline. Oh, and getting my toddler to eat. Oh, and figuring out whether Emma has an ear infection or is simply teething. Oh, and [insert current parenting woe here]. Okay, so maybe it's all hard in different ways, but potty training is definitely not for amateurs.

And actually, Will has been pretty easy on me thus far. But we are only on day #2 and I wouldn't call us trained. Yes, I did put us. To me, potty training is just as much about training M and me as it is about Will. We have all enjoyed the "carefree" days of diapers. I will miss the days of running out of the house without stopping to potty. The accident that Will had yesterday was more my fault than his, as I left him in his chair at breakfast too long while I put Emma down for a nap and threw a load of laundry in. This whole potty training thing is a new way of thinking that will take me some getting used to.

Today, we remained accident free. I would say the difference was more in me than in him, in that I was more diligent about making him go to the bathroom whether he wanted to or not. I have mentioned before his need for privacy when going #2. So, today, there were a couple of times when he got awfully quiet and I was able to intervene and get him on the toilet before he actually did his business. He fought me a bit both times (tears included), but I was able to calm him down and then give him his space to do what he needed to do. And he did it beautifully, I might add (I actually gave consideration to taking pictures, but ultimately decided against it, aren't you glad?).

So, here is what hasn't worked (so far) in potty training:

1) Waiting for him to tell me he has to go. It has only happened once. Usually, by the time he tells me that he has to go, his underwear are soaking wet and I need to bust out the lysol and carpet cleaner.

2) Pull-ups. Those bastards. It's like the swim diaper (I need to post about my dislike of the swim diaper and my confusion as to why they are even required in pools). Useless.

What has worked:

1) At first, Will thought underwear were like diapers: disposable and unlimited. We had two accidents before 10 AM yesterday and I was ready to throw in the towel. Sensing my frustration, he said, "Don't worry Mommy, I'll just get another underwears." Um, no. I pulled out four pairs of underwear and told him that was all the underwear we have (I lied. Sue me. I was trying for visual affect.) and if he soiled all of those, there would be none left.

2) Making him go. As in dragging him to the potty when I know he has to go and making him go. I am not sure this would work with all children, but it seems to work with him. When I know he has to go (ex: he is hiding in my closet - his favorite spot to poo - and I can smell the beginning of the end), I take him to the potty. He protests and cries, but I still make him sit on the potty. I stay with him until he calms down and then leave him to his efforts. It worked twice today.

3) Praise, praise, praise, praise. Oh, and bribery. Trust me when I tell you that no Oscar Winner has ever given a more dramatic, emotion-laden performance in their lives than the reaction Will has gotten for his efforts these past few days. I have stopped only short of cart wheels and if I wasn't afraid of injuring myself, I would have done that, too. And we have a bucket of special presents (cheap, dollar store toys, stickers, coloring books, bubbles, window clings, animal crackers, etc.) in a bucket that he gets to pick from when he goes #2. #1 earns him 4 jelly beans or 4 m&ms. His choice.

So.

Day three tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

Baby, Baby

2011-04-25T07:26:00.001-07:00

My sister and sister-in-law are both pregnant. My sister never wanted children until this year, when she got pregnant immediately, but then sadly, miscarried. My sister-in-law married her high school sweetheart, but unfortunately, they divorced in her mid-thirties after having no kids due to some fertility issues (undiagnosed, but they were together over 15 years, 10 of which they did not use birth control and she never got pregnant). She then met her current boyfriend, who already had children from his previous marriage and did not want more kids. Then, she decided that she really, really wanted children when Will was born. Her boyfriend hemmed and hawed and finally agreed, and she got pregnant and then miscarried.

They both now have the same due date, though their pregnancies are very different.

#1: My sister's pregnancy.

My sister is 20 weeks pregnant! And it's a boy! She revealed this detail to my family at my brother's 18th birthday party on Saturday night by handing my mom a basket filled with blue items and calling it her "hostess gift". It was a creative idea that fell a little flat because she hadn't told us that they'd had the anatomy scan the day before. While I got it right away, my mom isn't as attuned to pregnancy things and picked up the pack of blue Peeps and said, "Why would you give me Peeps?" (My mom is very vociferous in her Peep distaste.) My sister got offended, snatched the basket back and told my mom that she is ungrateful. My mom was still clueless as to what had happened, so I had to fill her in. The evening took on a decidedly tense atmosphere after that.

I can kind of see both sides in this one. My mom has a history of being less than supportive when it comes all things pregnancy, and she prefers grand babies to come out minus the franks and beans. However, in this case, I think she was just truly oblivious to what my sister was trying to convey. On the other hand, I can see my sister's frustrations, because I've been where she is right now, where she desperately wanted my mom to get excited, and even after (or perhaps because of) the Peep Debacle, there was just a general sense of "Meh" to the whole thing. My mom eyed her belly and said, "I still think it's a girl." What? Really? Yeah.

#2: My SIL's pregnancy.

Oh, my poor SIL. She really has been put through the ringer on this one. First was the crazy week of you're pregnant! With twins! With high risk twins! Then, the following week, they met with the highest of high risk specialists at UW who told them to terminate the pregnancy. My SIL left that appointment in tears, picturing micro-premies who would never leave the hospital.

After a second opinion and some research, as well as the amnio and all tests showing that the girls are, for the time being, 100% healthy, they have decided to proceed with the pregnancy. She and her boyfriend are getting married on Labor Day weekend and she will go in-patient shortly thereafter with the hopes of keeping the twins in until 32 weeks. Any advice for me on how to best help her with this would be appreciated. She is in relatively good spirits for the time being, but they have a long road ahead.

So, that's where the ladies in my life are with their pregnancies. I am really excited to get to be an Aunt! I love babies, but seeing that M and I are likely done with building our own family, it will be nice to snuggle and love on other peoples' babies now and not have the "BUT I WANT ONE" jealousy that used to eat at me before we had our own miracles.

Life

2011-04-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

Hi. Thanks for the love and support on the last post. I really don't mean to be all cloak and dagger about what has been going on. It's simply a private issue that isn't really my own to share. I might be able to talk more about it in the future here on the blog as it resolves itself. In the meantime, I am happy to share more details through e-mail if anyone is truly curious.

But. . . moving right along. . .

Can you believe that my little Emma Drace is 9 months old? If you are shaking your head saying, "No, I can't!", then we are on the same page. I packed up her six month size clothes this last weekend and really couldn't grasp the fact that my Project As If is such a big girl.

She claps her hands, she says "Ta Da!" (one of her brother's favorite expressions) and "Da Da." She is eating pretty much everything and anything. She can feed herself a lot, though I still do puree a lot of foods, I am just dumping whatever we are eating into the magic bullet and whizzing that up. She is this close to crawling, but I feel as if she has been this close to crawling for about the last month. She can scoot a lot of places and rolls even more. She is pulling up on things, though she is still unsteady when she stands. She sleeps. . . well, again, I am not going to talk about it. Because you would hate me and I would likely jinx myself. Just know, I am grateful. Oh, and that I truly feel that sleep is something that you can't train that much. Because I honestly broke a lot of rules with her and she sleeps like a champ.

And Will? Will is 2.5 years old and is in the throes of the Terrible Twos. It is seriously as if he has multiple personality disorder. At times, he is so very sweet that I am overwhelmed by it. At other times, I seriously want to tear my hear from my head. This will happen in the span of five minutes.

He talks full sentences, comes up with the most random things to say, and has the memory of an elephant. We have to be very careful what we say in front of him. For example, if I say, "We are going to go to the zoo tomorrow" and then our plans are foiled for some unforeseen reason, then he is impossible to deal with that day. So, I have learned to not share plans with him until we are en route.

But the sweetness? Oh, my goodness. He is soooooo amazing with his little sister. He hates it when she cries and the other day, she cried in the car, so he sang her the entire "Puff the Magic Dragon" song. All of it. She listened in rapt attention and at the end he said, "Did that make you feel better, Emma Drace?"

And he also calls her "Baby Gurrrl." As in, when she is crying, he will say, "Aw, it's okay, baby gurrrl. I'm here." Eagads, the cuteness.

Anyway, so no matter what else is going on in my world, I am oh-so-grateful for my miracles.

Radio Silence

2011-04-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

Will was very sick last week. We ended up at Children's Hospital with a suspected diagnosis of Kawasaki Disease. It was the worst two days of my life. Holding him down for tests and making him suffer, even if for a good cause, was heartbreaking. The fact that some moms and dads have to do this every single day for their very sick children is unfathomable. He is fine now and was never in any true danger, but it was still a scary, awful place to be. In addition to that, my dear readers, there is more that you need to know. My blog has always been a source of solace for me, a place to turn where I can spill my thoughts, and say what I need to say. Unfortunately, there are some thoughts and feelings that I can't spill here. If you knew me in real life, you would know that I am a lot of things, but I am not fake. I do not have a poker face, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am the same way here on the blog. I can't pretend everything is okay when it isn't. This past year has had a lot of hits, some of which I have not been able to share here. I feel as if I do a fairly good job standing back up after I've been knocked down for the most part. Right now, I am having a hard time standing back up. I come here and try to write a post and the blank whiteness just stares back at me. I type a line and it mocks me because it is only part of the story. I am not trying to be cryptic here at all. There are just some things that are not blog-able and the fact that I cannot write about so much ends up being like a wine cork for me. I can't seem to unbottle the rest of it. But I just wanted you to know where I have been and where I might be if I am not here as often.

Week of Surprises

2011-04-01T23:37:00.000-07:00

My sister-in-law had a week filled with surprises.

Surprise #1

On Tuesday, she went to the doctor because she hasn't been feeling well for a few weeks. The doctor did a physical exam and told her that she was pretty sure she was pregnant based on her findings. They did blood work to date the pregnancy and see if it would be too early for an ultrasound. My SIL has a history of miscarriage as well as difficulty conceiving. She has never carried a pregnancy to term. Since her miscarriage in June, she has had very irregular periods and lots of cramping, heavy bleeding, and just general poor reproductive health that she has battled for the past ten years (she is 40). In December, her OB-GYN told her that she would be very unlikely to get pregnant again with all of her issues and advised against even trying it. She got on the Pill to regulate her cycles and was seriously thinking about scheduling a hysterectomy. So, this whole "You're pregnant!" thing was a bit of a shocker.

Surprise #2

The HCG came back really high (somewhere in the high 100's of thousands), so she came back on Wednesday for an ultrasound which showed that she is pregnant. . . VERY pregnant. Fourteen weeks pregnant as a matter of fact!

Surprise #3

It's twins!!

Surprise #4

As she has no idea when she conceived, it's multiples, and she is an older mom, they immediately referred her to a high-risk OB who got her in today for a high-level ultrasound to date the pregnancy and do the amnios. It turns out that these are identical twin girls. Monoamniotic twins as a matter of fact, which is high, high, high risk with a 50% survival rate. Obviously, this last part is a bit of a scary surprise.

My SIL is obviously overwhelmed by all of this. It's a bit crazy to be told all of these things in one week. By strange coincidence, her due date is the same as my sister's - September 10. However, the very latest they will let her pregnancy progress is 34 weeks, so she has already been scheduled for a c-section on August 20 - Will's third birthday! She will likely be admitted to the hospital for close monitoring at 28 weeks at the very latest and her doctor told her that if she made it to 30 weeks, it would be a miracle.

Of course, we are all thrilled for my sister-in-law and also very nervous. If you know of anyone who has had or is currently pregnant with monoamniotic twins, I would appreciate it if you could leave their information in the comments or e-mail me with it so I can pass it along. And if you are of the praying type, if you could say a few words for my sister-in-law and my nieces (how fun is that to say?), I would really appreciate it!

Don't Be Rash (PSA)

2011-03-30T22:07:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't been blogging much lately. There's actually a reason for it, in addition to the general busy-ness of life with two under three. It all started with an oval patch under my bra line on my left side. I first noticed it in January. It didn't itch, burn, or really feel like anything. It was just there, about two inches long and a half inch wide. I ignored it for a few weeks, but when it was still there in mid-February, I started wondering what it could be. I showed a girlfriend who told me it looked like a patch of ringworm her son had on his leg a year ago. Of course, I consulted Dr. Google, and indeed, my patch looked like ringworm patches that I found online. I bought a tube of otc antifungal cream and put it on the patch. While it didn't go away, it didn't seem any worse. The first week in March, I noticed some small (pea-size), light brown to pink, oval patches that extended under my left breast and a bit down my side. There were maybe six or seven patches and, unlike that first spot, these itched. Not a lot or anything, but just more noticeable. I applied the cream to those, too. At this same time, I had an appointment with my primary care physician to discuss my post-partum anxiety (that's a whole separate post). As an aside during that visit, I had her look at the rash. After a cursory glance, she confirmed that it was ringworm and told me to keep applying the ointment to it and that it should go away in a few days to a couple of weeks. It was after that visit that the rash started getting worse. It started on my forearms and on my other side. I went from having less than ten spots to having 20 or 30. And instead of being mildy itchy, they were extremely itchy. And a new spot was cropping up all the time. First, I would get this horrible itchy place on my skin. I would try, try, try not to scratch, but eventually, I would get distracted doing something else and forget that it was a no-no, and I would itch. Then a spot would show up seconds later, red, angry, and welt-like. I e-mailed my doctor and let her know that the rash was getting worse. She prescribed a stronger antifungal and some cortisone cream. I dutifully applied both creams to no avail. I started using tea tree oil soap and not putting any normal lotion on. My skin was drying out, which was what everyone told me what necessary to rid myself of the fungus. By this time, several of the patches had gotten red, oozy, and were painful, especially on my forearms and stomach. I was so afraid of passing on my fungal infection onto my family, especially Emma, who was still nursing. I would take a sheet and wrap it around my breast so that only my nipple was showing. I would wash the sheet immediately after nursing. I also was washing my bedsheets every morning and never wearing a shirt or bra for more than two hours. I had to wear long sleeves all of the time and avoided touching the kids as much as possible. The thought of them contracting this horrible, itchy rash was enough to make me break out in more spots. After a week of the prescription cream and things only getting worse, I went back to my doctor. She was stunned by my rash and took skin scrapings to do a KOH test to make sure it was fungal. She saw lots of fungus in the scrapings so prescribed a third type of antifungal cream. She said she was at a loss, because ringworm doesn't usually spread like it was on me, but in cases where it was resistant to topical ointments, she would usually prescribe an oral antifungal. But oral antifungals are no-nos for lactating women, so my choice was to wean Emma and take the medications or keep suffering. I opted to try this last cream and see if I could beat it with that. This was a Friday. By Sunday night, I was ready to do whatever it took to get rid of my rash, even if it meant weaning Emma. I was covered from hip bone to collar bone in these angry red patches. They burned, they itched, they oozed, they bled. Where I didn't have the patches, I had a fine, red, bumpy rash that itched more than anything I have ever experienced. And as the patches crept upward, I had nightmares about the fungus getting into my hair and losing chunks of it. Forunately, they didn't creep up my neck, but I was still miserable. Showering was the worst. They were sting so much that I cried as the water hit them. I could barely stand drying myself off. Then I would rub the antifungal cream in and it would feel like I was burning my skin with a blow torch. Then, the very worst thing of all happened: I noticed two spots on Emma's cheek. I burst into tears and called my doctor's office, begging for some help. I couldn't imagine her having to endure this horrible rash. My primary care doctor finally referred me to a dermatologist. This doctor took one look at me and told me that she would "eat her shirt" if what I had was a fungal infection. She said that KOH testing is very unreliable and that if a person with no rash whatsoever was tested, it would show positive for fungus unless taken and intepreted properly. She did a skin biopsy in two places, a swab for staph infection, and a scraping. She prescribed a heavy-duty cortisone cream and told me to stop applying all of the creams. She said that I very likely had eczema and that all of the harsh creams and soaps had basically "burned" my poor suffering skin. I questioned how Emma could be getting the same thing and she said that she probably was just having a reaction to all of the creams and such that I'd been using and not the same thing at all. I was skeptical of that, but it was a relief to know that it might not be a communicable disease after all. She told me I was the first person she'd ever seen happy to receive a diagnosis of eczema. I was so desperate for relief that I applied the cortisone cream in the drive-thru at the pharmacy. Within five minutes of the first application, I was crying tears of relief. It was the first time in three weeks when my skin wasn't burning and itching. This was a Thursday. By Sunday, the rash was so noticeably better that I was willing to wear short sleeves and was no longer worried about the kids catching what was obviously not a fungus. I had done some research on eczema and though I didn't really feel like it sounded like my rash, I figured it must be it, because the steroid cream was clearly working. I didn't care. I was just so glad to be freed from the "rash prison" I had found myself in. On Monday, the dermatologist called me. Turns out, what I had was definitely not a fungal infection and wasn't even eczema. It is something called pityriasis rosea. No one is exactly sure what causes this very benign skin infection, but it is most noticeable (and often confused with ringworm) because of what is called the herald or mother patch. It is generally not contagious (though sometimes it can be in the very young with immature immune systems, explaining Emma's little rash) and thought to be the result of a virus, though no one has isolated the exact cause. I was a textbook case of this skin rash, except for that I kept putting on all of the caustic creams and soaps, which basically gave me a chemical burn and that was why it became more difficult to diagnose. The reason that I put this all here is because if someone is googling "rash that looks like ringworm but won't go away with antifungal creams", they might just end up here and save themselves three weeks of what I went through. I never imagined a rash could be this painful, inconvenient, or altogether horrible. I am just so very glad that Emma's few patches went away without incident and I can now stop doing laundry morning, noon, and night. Moral of the story: Always go to a specialist when things are "funky".

Little Moments

2011-03-27T23:22:00.000-07:00

When I was wondering how on earth I would manage life with 2, a commentor (not sure who and too tired to look back through the archives - raise your hand if it's you so I can credit you) said that it would be chaotic, stressful, and crazy, but there would be little moments where I would meet everyone's needs and everyone would be happy and I would feel like a rockstar. That pretty much sums up having more than one kid. Life is constantly crazy. I sometimes don't even realize how nuts things are until we have guests over and I catch a look at their faces while I do my usual triage/juggling routine. When seen through their eyes, I guess our life can be pretty hectic. I have learned to block out a lot. I deal with it as it comes and as fast as I can and don't let the chaos get to me on most days (most, I said!). Most of the time, I actually enjoy the noise, the pace, the days that pass in a busy blur. I am gaining immunity to the moments that might drive others nuts. But the moments that I am not immune to? The little moments where both of my children are content. . . when I have a baby in each arm and a heart filled with love. . . when their little faces look up at me. . . and I do feel like a rockstar. . . and a Mommy. Today, Will wanted to build a tent. So we did. With a blanket, the couch, and Emma's exersaucer. After we built the tent, he wanted his books. So we read in the tent. Emma woke up from her nap and Will wanted his sister in his tent. I offered a "camping lunch," which he eager accepted, but only if "Emma gets 'camping lunch' too". As I made lunch, I heard Emma start to fuss and before I could get there to intervene, I heard Will say, "Don't worry, Emma Drace, I'll get you another toy." I delivered "camping lunch" (nothing really special, just getting to eat in his tent) and watched as Will offered his sister the Gerber snack I had placed on his plate for just that purpose. As he munched on a carrot stick, he reached out with his other hand and absentmindedly patted his sister's hand. She smiled at him and then they both laughed. Thank God for these little moments. And all the other moments in between.

No Fear

2011-03-22T21:28:00.000-07:00

To answer your burning question. . . Yes, I made the phone call to CPS. The caseworker I spoke to asked me if I wanted to be alerted on case updates (they will not inform you of any details, just simply when the case is closed). I chose not to hear anything. I figure I have done my part at this point and I don't need to hear anything else.

One of my commentors asked why I hadn't already? Why wouldn't I?

Well, I guess because there is that small part of me that felt for the mom. I have been there. I have needed one little thing at the store, be it milk, bananas, a spice to make something in particular, you name it. Though I have never given in to the urge, there have been many times when I have glanced in the rearview mirror only to see two kiddos sleeping peacefully and thought, "They'd never even wake up. . . I could be back in a minute. . . "

Granted, I would make some different choices (no keys in the ignition for starters), and ultimately, I don't think I could do it regardless of where my keys were, but the impulse has been there. And there have been other parenting moves that I have made that I am not necessarily proud of.

Parenting is hard work. It is a daily grind of choices that may seem small, but add up to gargantuan responsibility. While I feel I mostly hold up well to this pressure, I'll admit occasional lapses in judgment, things that a stranger might misinterpret or misunderstand.

Yes, I do recognize that there are lines we cross and lines we don't. I realize that my parenting "errors" have fortunately been minor to date and not put my children in harm's way. But for the grace of God. . . because I have made mistakes that could have ended poorly for my children and have been fortunate that they have not.

So, I guess that's why a small part of me empathasized with this mom, even if I thought she was 100% certifiable for making the choice that she did. I wondered about the day she had, the type of crap she must have endured to get to the point where she put her children in jeopardy, just to make things a bit easier on herself. Her day must have been awful and my call to CPS wasn't going to make things better. It was going to make things worse.

Ultimately, however, what made me make the call was the look on her younger child's face; the fear that baby had in its eyes. I have made mistakes, yes, and I will continue to do so, no doubt. But I pray with all of my heart never to see that look of fear and abandonment in Will or Emma's face.

And that's why I called.

MYOB

2011-03-17T22:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, blog readers, time for another round of my favorite game. What Would You Do?

Today I pulled into my local grocery store parking lot. I parked next to a van and right next to the cart corral (yay!). As I was getting Will out of the car, I heard the unmistakable cries of a baby. I looked behind me and saw a baby in a carseat in the minivan right next to my car. I also saw a toddler in a car seat. The engine was running, but as I scanned the car, I could not see an adult in the car.

That's because there wasn't one.

The doors were unlocked, the keys were in the ignition, the engine was on. The kids were in the car, secured in their seats, the infant was crying.

I stood there for a moment or two trying to figure out what to do. I didn't want to leave these kids unattended. I gave a brief thought to calling 9-1-1, but decided that the police probably wouldn't respond before a parent (hopefully) returned to the car.

Another woman walking by cast a curious glance at the car and then asked me if it was mine. I told her it wasn't and, concerned, she joined me in pondering the situation. As the minutes passed, we both began to wonder if this was a stolen car, dropped off because the criminal didn't want to have two innocent kids on board. Neither of us could imagine a mom intentionally leaving her kids alone in an unlocked, unguarded, engine-running car for even a minute, let alone the time we had been standing there.

I wrote down the license plate, car color, make, and model. I was about to dial the police when a lady came out of the store. Before I could even open my mouth, she threw up her hand in a defensive gesture and said, "Yes, these are my kids. And they are fine. Mind your own business."

She then peeled out of the parking lot, tires screeching.

I have all of the information to report her to CPS, but balk at making the actual phone call.

So, what would you do?

I Did It!

2011-03-15T07:06:00.000-07:00

So, I did it! I ran the 5k, which was actually a bit longer of a race than that at 3.8 miles!

I am very proud of myself. For those of you runners out there, I know a 5k is just your warm up, but to me, it felt like a marathon (Um, okay, it didn't. But you know what I mean!).

I was super nervous the night before. I didn't know what to wear, what to bring, what to leave at home, how to carry my stuff during the race, where to go to find the finish line, blah, blah, blah. We ate dinner later than I wanted, I went to bed later than I wanted, and I woke up several times during the night, worried I would somehow sleep through my alarm.

It was also Daylight Savings, so I lost another hour of sleep, bringing my grand total to somewhere around five hours of broken, restless sleep. I finally gave up waiting for my alarm and got out of bed at 5:30.

My running partner picked me up at 6:00. We picked up another friend on the way. She actually is a marathon runner and insisted on stopping for a snack, since both of us novice fools hadn't eaten breakfast. I was too nervous to eat (and was scared to have to use the bathroom during the race), but she reminded us that the race didn't start until 8:50 and that we had to have something in our stomachs. So I choked down a whole grain roll and some water.

We got to the race super early (they were closing down the major roads in and out of the area at 7:00), which was actually nice for my nerves. We got a great parking spot and then were able to walk around and look at all of the free stuff, listen to music, and get some big, funny green hats.

It was fun, so fun that I almost forgot the reason we were there. But soon they were calling for all race participants to go to the starting line and I remembered why and my heart started pounding. There were four waves and we were signed up for the third wave (non-timed) so that we wouldn't feel out of our league or slow other people down. Our friend was in the first wave, so we stood with her in her wave before the race began. We were surrounded by what could only be described as professional runners who were wearing spandex, fancy jackets, and expensive running shoes. They were doing stretches, jogging in place, and just generally looking ready to go. I started to get pretty nervous. What the heck was I doing there? I should be at home, on my couch, watching this on t.v. After her wave took off, it was time for us to line up.

This is when I started to relax. These were our people. There was a five year old standing next to us. There were lots of jogging strollers. More people were in jeans or funny costumes. No one was stretching, everyone was chatting, and I think my ten year old Nikes might have been the nicest shoes there!

Soon, we were off. We had planned to start the race at a brisk walk for the first five minutes. This was actually a good plan, because it was so congested that running would have been impossible. By the time the crowd thinned out enough to run, it was right about the five minute mark. So. . .we started jogging, slowly at first, then picking up to a comfortable (for us) pace.

The first ten minutes were awesome. I felt good. Really good. We were passing some people, being passed by others, keeping pace with most. We weren't breaking any speed records, but we were moving.

The course was pretty flat at first, then went up a long, gently sloping hill. That hill was kind of killer, even though it wasn't steep, because it seemed to go forever. The neat thing was that at the top of the hill, the course just turned right around, so we could see the hundreds of runners running back down the hill. Finally, it was our turn to get back down the hill and that felt amazing.

Have I mentioned that my poor running partner had The Flu the whole week before the race. As in, her whole family had the H1N1 flu? Yeah, the poor thing was a real trooper, but it was about the half way point that she started coughing and wheezing. We slowed our jog to a walk for a couple of minutes to let her get some good deep breaths and use her inhaler.

But we were right back at it as soon as she was able and kept going. We were both pretty tired and ready to start walking again when we saw the 3 mile marker. That bolstered both of us up and we kept going. We were just about ready to walk again when, all of a sudden, there were people on both sides of the course, ringing bells and cheering for us and a guy boomed out, "One block left!"

Well. How can you not jog the last block?

So, we did. We jogged through the finish line. We finished the 5k in 44:14, which I know isn't a great time (race average was 38:51). But it doesn't really matter because it was our time and we have already signed up for another 5k in a month. We are going to beat our time and then we are doing an 8k in May.

I did something that I didn't think I could do. That feels pretty amazing. I highly recommend the C25K program if you are thinking about learning to run.

Now I've Got the Runs

2011-03-04T22:59:00.000-08:00

Running for more than 30 seconds used to be a challenge for me. I am serious. I am NOT a runner. Ever see that episode of Friends? Where Phoebe and Rachel run together (seriously, if you are not sure what I am talking about, you should click the link for a visual)? Yeah, I run like Phoebe. Only with slightly less grace.

Back in January, I decided I was tired of being out of shape and out of breath and unable to run a quarter mile on my own. I like a challenge and I knew that training for an event would be a challenge, a goal, a deadline. It would be something to hold myself accountable to. I also had a girlfriend who delivered her little girl a month before Emma and just happens to live across the street from me. We were in the same place and needed an impetus to get us moving.

So we both decided to try the C25K program. With a great deal of skepticism that our pudgy, non-runner tushes could actually do such a thing, we set out on our first workout. And kept going. And going. And going. Last night, I ran for two and a half miles straight. And felt as if I could have kept going, but the training schedule really encourages you to not jump ahead, and I am obedient to what has been working.

And today? Today, I registered for our first 5k that will happen next week. Sunday, March 13, 2011, I will run my first official event; the Seattle St. Patrick's Day Dash. I am excited, I am nervous, I am proud.

I know, I know. It's only 3.2 miles. But it's such a start for me. For a girl who couldn't run .2 miles to run 3.2*? It's a BIG deal.

*And who, psssssst, is now wanting to run a half-marathon.

Virtual Hugs

2011-02-21T13:25:00.000-08:00

If you have a moment, can you go lend a thought to my dear friend at "Life in the Detours"?

She is 8dp5dt and getting very faint BFPS, but wishing they were stronger. . . and I am wishing and hoping that they soon will be. In any case, she needs some love, and that's what we do best here in the blogasphere!

ETA: There are two more women who need our love. Kellie lost her baby girl unexpectedly at four months old. And Joy's friend could use thoughts after experiencing a loss after a FET.

Show Tunes

2011-02-14T14:22:00.001-08:00

Possibly the next Sophie Menter? In any case, is it too early for piano lessons?

My Babies

2011-02-11T16:59:00.000-08:00

It goes so fast. It really does. I am so busy that it tends to blur together, but there are moments and things about these sweet babies that I want to memorialize.

Will (at 2 1/2)

Has just had a major growth spurt. He had been fitting 18 (yes, 18) - 24 month pants and all of a sudden, they were all way too short. He is now firmly a 2T in pants and a 3T in shirts and jackets.
Has taken to patting my back at night as I rub his. He also calls me "Seetie" (Sweetie).
Has learned to try and charm his way out of things. I was asking him to put away his toys this morning before we left the house and he looked at me coyly and said, "You look very pretty today, Mommy." I'll admit it, my heart got a bit melty. I replied, "Aw, thank you, Sweetie. . ." but Mama is no fool. . . "Now, please clean up your toys.
Is doing much, much, much better when it comes to hitting. We have introduced the "Mad Spot" where he can go stomp and yell if he is mad or frustrated. The other day, he started to rear his hand back to hit me. He said, "I want to hit Mama!" But he stopped himself and went to the "Mad Spot" and stomped it out. We haven't had to leave the last three playdates (knock on wood). The only problem with the whole "talk about our feelings" thing doesn't translate well with other kids. It turns out that two and three year olds find being told "I want to hit you" just as upsetting as actually being hit.
Has communication skills that are crazy. He can tell us anything and everything at this point. He talks in full sentences and makes his needs very well-known. This can be both good (when we can meet his needs) and not (when we can't or it isn't appropriate to do so).
He is working on potty-training. His favorite place to "poo-poo" is our master closet. He likes the private time and space. Tonight, he was wearing underwear and I realized it had been too quiet for too long. I knew where to find him - the closet! He was clearly working on something and as I took him from the closet, he said, "No, Mommy, no. I stay in closet. I need to poo-poo." M and I are both afraid that the poo-poo'ing in the closet might become a strange habit. And yet I hesitate to stop it as I don't want to discourage him from pooping when he needs to. So for now, I let him stay in the closet when he needs to do his thing. And hope that by the time he is ready to leave for college, he has moved beyond pooping in our closet.
I know everyone thinks this about their children, but he seriously is the best boy ever. I mean it. His heart is so big, his love for his sister is so much. Even other, unbiased adults, have commented on how well he has adjusted to being a big brother and how amazingly good he is with her. He can be so sweet in spite of the tantrums, the toddlerishness, the independance. When he nestles against me during a "rock-rock" or hugs his sister for no reason other than to just love on her, I know the sweetness that lies beneath and I am so very proud to be the mother of this wonderful Little Man.

Emma (at 6 months)

I hate to brag, but she is the happiest baby on the planet. We were at a playdate yesterday and a mom that I didn't know very well (and is three weeks away from her own #2) asked me, "Is she always this happy?" I want to know how to answer that question without sounding smug. Because the truth is? She is always that happy.
She wakes up every morning and coos and talks to herself for up to twenty minutes. She might go longer, but that's the longest I've ever made her wait. I finally get impatient waiting for her to cy for me, and go in.
She greets me with the biggest smiles and a huge screech of happiness every single morning. The girl is crazy-happy about seeing me in the morning. Talk about an ego-boost.
She still makes her famous "growling" noises which have earned her the nickname of "Dino Baby."
This girl eats her brother under the table. A normal meal for her would be a dish of applesauce mixed with a half of banana, handful of blueberries, and oatmeal plus a dish of 5 - 6 baby carrots blended with 2 oz. of chicken breast, a generous handful of spinach spinach, and two to three large chunks of sweet potato.
Sleeping and napping? I am not even going to type out the amazing schedule we have for two reasons. 1) You'd hate me and 2) It would jinx it. Just know that I am down-on-my-knees-grateful for what I have been blessed with.
She is sitting independantly for long stretches of time. She can (rather ungracefully, but probably taking after me) move from a sitting to laying down position. She is nowhere near crawling.

These two amazing children that I have been blessed with are very different. I recently read a blog post that talks about the different love that a parent feels for their children. It was a very good read, as I know that I felt my own guilt as I figured out that while I love both of them very much, I don't love them the same way. And that's okay, they aren't the same people. It just takes realizing that to feel okay with it.

And So. It's Come To This

2011-02-08T10:24:00.000-08:00

Some would probably say that I "baby" Will. He is 2.5 years old and is still in his crib with all of the sides on. We still "rock-rock" him to bed before each nap and bedtime (we don't rock him to sleep, but we do rock, say prayers, and sing songs and talk about the day together - it my favorite time of the day).

And he is still in diapers.

And we were all happy.

Until very recently, when the costs of two in diapers has really started to hit our pocketbook. I have a grocery budget and diapers comes out of that budget. For the last few of months I was scratching my head, as no matter how coupons I used or sales I shopped, I was still coming up short. Then, a trip to Walmart and $80 later, I realized why (let's not talk about why it took me this long to figure that out). Two babies in diapers is expensive. And one of those so-called babies is old enough to say, "Change my diaper, please, Mommy." So he's not really a baby anymore.

Also, now that most of Will's friends are potty-trained, he is starting to get interested. He last showed potty interest about a month before Emma was born. I was too exhausted to indulge him and worried that he would regress anyway, so I kinda sorta played along with it, but didn't encourage it too much.

The last couple of months, we've been talking a lot more about the potty. We bought fun underwear. We've watched his friends use the toilet. He watches us use the toilet. We talk about pee pee, poo poo, and potty more than frat guys.

So it makes sense that, last Friday, Will announced, "I all done with diapers Mommy. I wear underwear!" I was all for it.

Until I was four pairs of underwear in by noon.

The problem is that when he is naked, he will go in the potty and (to my knowledge) not on the floor. I am relatively sure that he "gets" the urge to go and understands it. But the second that he is wearing anything, be it a diaper or underwear, it's like he reverts. He will come to me and proudly announce that he "has to go potty," and I realize that means that he has alreaday gone potty. Sometimes, I can see that he has that "look" and I will say, "Do you need to go potty?" He will say, "No, I go in my diaper."

Here's the thing. Potty training just isn't a big deal for me. Sure, I'd love to have the extra cash back in my grocery budget. But other than that, I am just not worried about it. I feel like Will is "normal," and in my experience with my friends and their little boys, "normal" boys eventually potty train. I have watched friends "boot camp" their kids, bribe their kids, potty chart their kids, stand on their heads and whistle dixie with their kids. . . and I have seen that they all eventually get the idea. Boys seem to be a bit later than girls on the issue, but not always. And I have noticed that it actually seems like the parents who push it the most are the ones who have the kids who resist it the most.

While I want to encourage his interest in potty training, I don't want to do two extra loadso of laundry by 10 AM. So. . . what to do, what to do.

I'd say he is about 25% potty trained. That and $20 will buy me another two weeks of diapers.

How Can We Help

2011-02-07T22:28:00.000-08:00

Danielle asked (in the comments section of my last post), how we can help. I'm glad that you asked.

I contacted the Ben Towne Foundation to ask that very question. Here is an exerpt of the e-mail that I received.

Ben Towne Foundation incorporated last year and had a launch celebration in September. We are thrilled to partner with the Center for Childhood Cancer at Seattle Children's Research Institute. Part of what we are asking people to do is to tell the story of what is happening in Seattle and the future of childhood cancer research. As Seattle becomes known more and more as an epicenter for global health and specifically for cancer treatment and research, the establishment of the Center for Childhood Cancer signifies that childhood cancer will be represented. So, please do tell Peyton's story, and Ben's story and the story of this organization and what is happening right here in our own back yard.

So, I am doing my part, here on the blog, on my Facebook page, on Twitter, and whenever I talk to people. The whole point of the foundation is to give pediatric cancer a voice. So, here I am, lending a small part of that. Won't you do the same?

Words We Should Never Have To Read. . . Let Alone, Write Or Say

2011-02-04T21:56:00.001-08:00

I have been transformed.

I am warning you, if you read this, you will never be the same. Although the transformation might be painful, I think it is ultimately worth it, because it will force you to look outside of yourself and ask, "How can I help?"

But if you are in a bad place yourself, don't read this. If you are not in a place where you will want to jump up and say, "How can I help? How can I change this reality?" Then don't read this.

I am serious. You've been warned.

Infertility is the hardest, most difficult thing I have endured in my life. And yet I promise you, I would endure it 100x over in order to save my children - or others - this fate.

And I will do everything I can to help those that are afflicted. I don't care that I am sleep deprived and have very little spare moments in the day. I have time for this. I have time. For my children are healthy and there are children out there who are not. But for the Grace of God, my children are in their cribs, asleep, and there are children, stuck in hospital, begging to go home. And I can't ignore that.

Full Scale Military Operations Require Less Planning (and Packing)

2011-02-04T11:10:00.000-08:00

Things have been a bit. . . busy. . . lately here. Busy is the only word I can really use to describe it. My part time job (that feels more full time some days) eats up most of the time that I used to have for blogging.

It's a good busy in that I have little time to really think about how tired I am. I fall into bed utterly exhausted at the end of each crazy day. I sleep deeply until the kids rouse me (which varies, but is usually around 7:30 - 8:00 AM, so I am fortunate there). The problem is, of course, that oftentimes, I am not getting to bed until well after midnight as the afforementioned part time job keeps me up pretty late.

Still, it's tough to complain when I know there are people dealing with real problems out there. Back in November, a friend of mine's little girl was diagnosed with a inoperable, terminal brain tumor. There is no hope that she will live longer than a year from diagnosis, and that would be an optimistic timeline. Watching his family go through this is heartwrenching and awe inspiring and keeps my own "problems" in perspective.

I just got back from a week with the kids at my parents' house. Holy crimony. Packing with two small children is an adventure all of it's own. I also brought the dog. It was a bit nuts how much stuff I packed. I felt as if we were moving in. I think my parents did, too. They aren't used to the hustle and bustle of two busy children, so they were pretty exhausted by the time I left, too.

As were were stuffing things pack into my car for our return trip home, my parents were laughing at how much stuff I had brought. My mom was the one who pointed out that armies move with less things that I do. Well, armies have to pack lightly. Thanks to the fact that we have a Jeep with some decent cargo space, I don't. Armies do not have a toddler and infant with them. I do ! In some ways, taking them to my parents' house for that long is like going into battle. I need to be prepared with all of the necessary tactical equipment.

We are home today and it feels good to be back on my own turf. It is always good seeing the kids with their grandparents, but it is tough being there without the comforts of home. Will doesn't nap there, even if I lay down with him, which is frustrating since he needs the naps (as evidenced by the two to three hour naps that he takes here). And since we sleep out in their motorhome, I don't feel comfortable putting the kids out there by themselves, which means I am going to bed at 8:00 PM with them, waiting until they are asleep, and then working as quietly as possible to try and scrabble some work together. My parents have the slowest internet connection, so it took me double the time it normally would to get my job done. I still have lots to do this weekend.

While I was at my parents, my sister and brother-in-law announced they are eight weeks pregnant. They had just been for their first ultrasound that day. The baby had a HB of 165 BPM and was measuring right on for dates. While they aren't announcing it on Facebook (like they did last time with all the innocence of first timers), they are feeling much more comfortable and telling family and close friends. Obviously, they are still nervous. Obviously, I completely "get" that.

So, this is where I've been. Thanks to those of you who have been checking in. I'm alive and well, just busy, tired, and lucky to be both of those things. I'll try to be a better blogger, promise!

Getting Out

2011-01-24T11:10:00.000-08:00

So, the Inaugral Bloggers' Night Out was this past Saturday. I got the opportunity to meetface-to-face with some amazing women who have walked the path of infertility.

The drive down to dinner was strange. I had butterflies in my tummy. It was weird to be actually meeting people that I have never "met," but know so intimately. There is also the teensy tiny detail that I share an obnoxious amount of information here and I was all of a sudden all too aware of that fact!

I got there first, got a table, and was seated. And then one-by-one, everyone else arrived.

Jen

Jen is one of my longest-time blogging buddies. She is just as warm and personable face-to-face as she is over her blog. She is one of those people you just feel instantly comfortable with. She is one of those "real" people that you can just be yourself around.

Sunny

She is a great listener and one of those people that I just can't wait to get to know even better. She is just so nice and you can tell how much she adores her babies. She also looks a-freakin-mazing mere months after an extended bedrest and delivering the twins.

Ludicrous Mama

She had me laughing from instant one with her "tell it like it is" attitude. She always has something to say and it's usually hilarious! I "knew" her the least of all of the bloggers, but I am hooked on her blog now, especially her Muffin Tin Meals.

Anonymous Blogger

One of the bloggers in attendance prefers not to be identified so I can't say much, but I love, love, love this girl. She is just starting her first IVF cycle and I am so excited to follow her journey.

What was amazing is that I have always wondered how "real" people are in their blogs. I mean, I know I am pretty honest here and try to be who I am, but there is always a certain amount of self-editing that takes place. But when we got together, you could see the personalities shining through. Everyone was just as real - and as wonderful - in person as they are through their blogs.

It was an incredible experience to meet these wonderful women in real life. At one point, Anonymous Blogger pointed out that there were five women in attendance and eight children between us all. Eight miracles who prove that there are happy endings to the sad story of infertility.

Thank goodness for the blogosphere and the wonderful women (and men!) in it!

She Runs In the Family

2011-01-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

My cousin, Poppy, has a blog. She is way funnier than I could ever hope to be. Seriously, do not drink any beverages while reading her blog. It will come out your nose. Yes, that funny.

My cousin, Poppy, also runs. Marathons. She is way more athletic than I could ever hope to be.

Currently, she is trying to win a sponsorship from TRX to train for a marathon. Please view this video if you have a few minutes. If you'd like to help in other ways and win a free mug, she has more ideas on her blog.

Thank you!

Still Not Too Late

2011-01-21T18:35:00.000-08:00

If you are in the Seattle area and would love to meet up with some pretty cool people (if we do say so ourselves - and we do!) and have cheesecake to boot, then don't forget about the Bloggers' Night Out!

More details can be found here. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Oh, heck, just show up if you want. We'd love to meet you!

I'll be posting pictures of the fun. . . and the cheesecake.

Leash Laws

2011-01-17T08:15:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the supportive weigh-in on Will and discipline. Sometimes, just posting about an issue seems to help resolve it. Possibly it's the release of emotions and anxiety that change my attitude, which in turn, changes his.

We had to leave another play date on Friday, but we were there for a good hour before the infraction occurred. It also happened just as I sat down to nurse Emma. It doesn't take Freud to figure that one out. I just worked very hard at being as diligent and as consistent as possible these past few days (not that I wasn't being consistent before, I just made extra sure).

I also finally busted something out that my MIL had given me right before Emma was born: the leash.

Now, I'll be honest. When she gave me this thing, I tried to subtly look to see if she'd also included the gift receipt. I wasn't gonna leash Will. He is the kid that stays close by to me. He is usually contained in a stroller or cart. I always hold his hand or carry him in a parking lot or dangerous situation.

In the past month, however, there have been two times when I have had to chase Will down and there has been a kindly stranger that has intervened to corral him. If those strangers hadn't been around, things could have ended differently. The fact that, even for a few seconds, I wasn't in control and he was in danger haunted me.

I decided that he just wasn't ready to roam free, so it was back in a cart or stroller. But that isn't possible all of the time. And it's not really as much fun doing a necessary errand with a screaming child in the cart.

So, I dug through Emma's closet and found the leash. It's a fancy leash, actually a wrist band that connects us with a retractable cord. It's black and neon green and looks super cool. But it's still a leash.

I looked at it and felt trepidation. Had it really come down to this? Had it really come down to leashing my child? After all, one of my pre-kid statements was, "I will never put my child on a leash."

As Will grew and became more independent, I found myself looking at the "backpack" type leashes and even put one in the cart from time to time at the store. I always put it back because, ultimately, I still was on top of the situation. Lately, I can't say that I 100% will be able to keep him safe without the use of a leash.

Even though he was never in any true danger in these past two episodes, I saw how quickly it could happen. I saw how it takes just one second to go from being in control to being in an emergency situation.

So I put the leash in the diaper bag so that it would be there the next time we were in a situation where I felt as if I needed the extra security. That time came Friday night.

M woke up Friday with a horrible flu bug. He was out of commission for the day. I got the kids out of the house to give him some rest. We went to the mall to return some things and let Will play at the kiddie play area. I used the double stroller for that outing and he was contained and safe. Then, on the way home, I decided to take the kids into a Baja Fresh to get some dinner. This is one of those very situations where safety becomes an issue. I have a diaper bag, Emma in her car seat so I could set her down in the restaurant, and Will to manage by myself. It was a crowded parking lot and a small, crowded restaurant where a double stroller would not be appreciated - or even fit. I reached for the Ergo and realized that it was sitting on top of the washer at home. . . waiting to be laundered after an unfortunate incident involving Emma's first sweet potatoes. So, I reached for something else. . . the leash.

Will thought it was pretty cool to put on our matching "bracelets." He thought the retractable cord was fun, too. The walk across the parking lot was great. He was contained and safe.

We walked into the restaurant and again, it was great. He could walk in a three foot radius from me, so he felt the illusion of freedom, and I felt the reality of safety.

We got in line and there were two younger guys in front of us (man, I feel old calling them younger, when they were probably early twenties. . . but I digress) and one of them barked at Will and said, "Hey, buddy, are you a doggie?"

Now the guy didn't mean anything by it, he was just having fun and teasing, but it hit me where it hurts. That is exactly why I didn't want to leash my kids. They aren't animals, they are human beings.

I took a deep breath. Will thought being a doggie was great fun, after all. He woofed back and laughed. He was none the worse for the wear.

We put in our order, found a table, got settled, and enjoyed a nice meal (I took the leash off while we ate). I was complimented on my "beautiful and well-behaved children" by the elderly couple at the table next to us.

After dinner, I hesitated as I took out The Leash. I looked outside at our car, across a busy, blustery parking lot. I decided to go for the lesser evil and I put the wrist bracelet back on Will. As I did, the same elderly lady said, "Gosh, I wish they would have had those when I was raising my kids."

That made me feel a bit better. We headed out to our car.

He laughed and twirled as we crossed the lot. I was in control, I had him, I felt safer. He felt free.

Like so many pre-kid statements, I am retracting The Leash. I will not use it all of the time. I will use it when it is necessary. I realize some may not agree with me. Some may think I am treating my kids like animals. Like a lot of parenting decisions, it has to be what feels right for our family, for our kids. Right now, I am putting Will's safety above my own vanity, my own concern about what people might think.

Really, that is all that matters.

Kicking and Screaming (or Scratching and Hitting)

2011-01-13T07:29:00.000-08:00

It seems as if this whole discipline thing comes up on the good ol' blog every few months. When I am not yammering about sleep, what to do about the behavior of my older child seems to be my parenting foil.

This week has been. . . rough. It seems that we have weeks like this, where I seriously wonder where my sweet tempered child went.

Monday was one of my weakest moments as a parent to date. We went on a fun playdate to local bounce place. I had a great time playing with him in all of the bouncy houses. He was fairly well-behaved there, until one of the mothers wanted to get a group picture of everyone. Well. That didn't work out so well. He didn't want to stop playing (kinda can't blame him, but still) and so he hit me when I tried to pick him up to take him over for the shot. Time out.

Then he cried during the entire five minutes that we tried to get said group picture. Finally, he was released to play again, but it was like the switch had been flipped. After leaving there, we all went to McD's where he proceeded to behave terribly. He would not sit down, he did not want to eat his lunch, he kept rocking Emma's carseat and taking away her lovey, and he was bouncing on the chairs, etc. Finally, even though everyone else was still eating, I declared that the party was over and collected our things. Will was not pleased to be leaving while everyone else was clearly staying, so he made my job as difficult as possible, fighting me every step of the way.

Once in the parking lot, he tugged his arm away from me and started running down the sidewalk. For those of you still anticipating #2, this is one area that is still challenging: the transport. Because now you are lumbering with a carseat, a diaper bag, and who knows what else, and that makes you slow. You can't exactly throw number #2 to the ground to catch #1, but when you are in a busy parking lot, it can be scary that you are so compromised.

Fortunately, another family was just getting out of their car and the dad blocked Will's escape from me. He was very kind and I saw no judgment in his eyes, just that look of solidarity that said he'd been there.

Gratefully, I scooped up my child in my (not really) free arm and hauled him back to the car, with him kicking and screaming the entire way. I was starting to lose my Mommy Cool by that point and spoke to him in a voice I am not sure he's ever heard me use. "Get in your car seat."

He hesitated and I said it again, "Get in your car seat." The tone of my voice and the slightly crazed look in my eye got him hustling into his seat. I buckled him in and looked at him in the eye and told him in my Most Serious Mommy Voice, "It is dangerous to run away from Mommy. I am very disapppointed in you. Do not run away from Mommy ever again." He was quiet on the way home and didn't fight me on going down for a nap. We both needed the break.

I decided we needed a day "at home" on Tuesday. Things seemed a bit more settled here, but then again, there were little opportunities for him to run away or act out when we were within the four walls of the house.

It snowed here on Wednesday morning, so M took our Jeep to work to handle the commute, which meant another day at home. My neighbor and good friend called mid-morning to invite us over to play and have lunch. We headed over after Emma's nap and were there for two minutes when Will's friend started telling him that "Emma my sister." Will said, "No! Emma my sister!" As this "game" has upset Will before, I started to head their direction, but before I could get to them, he had reached out and scratched a huge welt into his friend's face. A second later, blood welled to the surface.

I was horrified. After making sure his friend was okay, we left immediately, Will crying great big, gulping sobs the whole way home. Even though I knew he was 100% wrong and that taking him home was the right thing to do, it still did tug at my heart to see him so upset.

It seemed to make an impression on him, so on the way to our playdate today, I reminded him that any sort of hitting or scratching would result in our immediate departure. He was actually much better today. I also was on him like a shadow, trying to prevent a hitting before it occured. We were there for two hours before he hit during a tug-o-war with a friend. I immediately grabbed his hand and told him we were leaving. He started to cry, "No, Mommy, I go in timeout!" This had been the previous (obviously ineffective) punishment for hitting.

So, that's it now. We are going to have to leave every playdate for here to eternity or at least until he figures out how to handle his frustrations in non-physical ways. I was okay with the occasional hit and then timeout as a consequence, simply because I think that's how toddlers communicate, even if we don't like it. But it seems to be escalating and the scratching was a whole new level that I could not tolerate. Fortunately, my friend is understanding and didn't freak out, but not everyone is going to be as "okay" with being a learning tool for my son.

Ugh. . . discipline.

Me Do It

2011-01-10T20:17:00.000-08:00

Oh, boy.

We've entered a new phase here.

It's the "me do it!" phase.

Will wants to do everything himself. . . "me put on boots," "me get Emma's toy," "me turn off light" . . . you get the picture.

Lord, grant me patience.

Grateful

2011-01-08T00:03:00.001-08:00

I had forgotten how exciting it was to have a new blog! You know that feeling? Where you have a lot to say and a blank page to say it on? It actually inspired me to go back and read some of my original blog entries here, too, just as a reminder of where I've been.

I'm going to be really honest here. Once you get to the other side, it's easy to "forget". Not that I will ever forget my angel babies, not that I will ever be able to look at conception and pregnancy in the same way, but you do tend to forget how bad it was, how all-consuming, how painful, how deep it cut. It's part of being human. We move on, whether we want to or not. But there are times, when I remember all too often, how much it hurt.

Reading some of those early entries was one reminder this week. Another was when I went into my shoe closet to grab some shoes I hadn't worn in over two years. This was clearly evidenced by what I found in the toe of the left shoe.

Two pee sticks.

To understand why pee sticks would be in the toe of one of my shoes, you probably have to have been around reading the good old blog back then. I was insane. I was obsessed. I couldn't pee on enough sticks. It was as if I could somehow control the outcome if I knew the second there was enough HCG in my system to detect a pregnancy.

My husband did not approve of this addiction. He was okay with me taking a test if my period was a day or two late. But when Aunt Flow was more than a week off, he could see no point in wasting my time, emotions, or money. A sane person would have agreed.

I was not, in any way, shape, or form, sane.

So I grew to hide my addiction from him. Wonderful, no?

Our master closet is right off the bathroom. My shoe organizer hangs from the inside of the door. It was a great place to shove a pee stick if the bathroom trash was empty (no wrappers to bury the sticks under) and my husband was around at the time of a peeing. Plus, you know I always broke the rules and looked past the time limit, so it was just more sanitary to reach into the shoe organizer rather than dig through the trash.

Seeing those pee sticks, yellowed with age, and no longer relevant in my world today, brought some old feelings bubbling to the surface. Anger, grief, embarassment, and finally, relief. I am so glad and grateful that I am not in that place anymore. It also made me ache, because I know there are still those waiting to move beyond that spot. Right now, there is someone, somewhere, staring a pee stick, willing it to show her hopes, dreams, and future, all in the form of second line or digital PREGNANT. Someone, somewhere is staring at red on the toilet paper, feeling their heart in their throat, as they realize that this "isn't right" and their baby isn't going to be born on the due date circled in their minds.

It is generally best to look forward. Looking at the past doesn't usually serve much purpose. However, there are time when a reminder of where we've been is a good thing. It keeps us thankful for the present that we have.

Meet Me Over Here!

2011-01-05T19:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I've finally done it. I've decided to start a new blog. It's going to be focused on our recent eating adventures. It might be a total flop, but I have had quite a few people asking for recipes and ideas since we started our vegan detox way of life, and I decided to just put it all out there in one place.

It's still in the itty-bitty blog phase (one intro page and one recipe post), but I promise there will be much more to come. And there will even be a semi-embarassing TMI post about me and a Big Mac. Oh, it's been a long time since I had a McD's post on this blog!

Of course, I'll still be providing you with way TMI here on this blog, so don't worry your pretty little heads about that!

Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T09:28:00.000-08:00

Oh my gosh, you guys.

It's another New Year! Happy 2011!

We had a really nice family New Year's Eve. We started the day out at the Children's Museum, where they had a Rockin' New Year's Eve Party, complete with crafts, noisemakers, and the usual madness that is the museum. We met our friends there and then went to McDonald's for lunch and more playtime.

After that, we continued our Family Tradition of writing notes to our lost babies and releasing balloons along with a wish for the New Year. This was a tradition that started out as a memorial for Gummy Bear. We now each pick a balloon and release them together at a beautiful park overlooking Puget Sound. This year, we added a balloon for Jack. What I love about this is not only that it continues to serve as a reminder to what we hold in our hearts from our past, but also, as our family grows, it evolves into a beautiful, unique family tradition that we can all look forward to. Yesterday happened to be a beautiful, sunny day, so we could watch the balloons for quite some time before they disappeared into the distance over the water.

M has been craving pizza (a lot of places serve gluten-free crusts now but don't have a vegan cheese alternative) and though I make a pretty good one here at home if I do say so myself, I had found out about this place. So we drove. . . are you ready for this. . . 30 minutes to get take-n-bake pizza. One way. But it was worth it, because M happily devoured over half of the pizza (though he actually said mine tastes better!).

We watched a movie as a family, then tubbies for the kiddos, and after they were in bed, we watched a movie. We opened a bottle of champagne at 11:45 and toasted the New Year. At 12:02, I headed to bed! Ah, New Year's is definitely different with kids.

So. . . 2011. I don't really make resolutions, per se. Last year, I had a goal to become more organized and efficient. I actually made some great strides on that, but I have room to grow. So, let's just say I am going to continue to work on that skill. We are already eating better and I do a pretty good job of getting out and about with the kiddos for walks, but I'd like to do even more physical activity in the coming year. My hopes for this year is that we continue to evolve as a family of four and that I remember to appreciate the little things and be happy in the moment.

How did you celebrate the ringing in of a new year? And what are your resolutions/committments/hopes/dreams for 2011?

Little Sister At Five Months

2010-12-31T10:21:00.000-08:00

Oh, Emma Grace.

She is probably one of the sweetest, smiliest babies, ever. Seriously. I get comments from people all of the time about how rarely she cries and how much she smiles.

She does have a temper, though! If you don't feed her or snuggle her fast enough, you are going to hear about it. Keep her fed, happy, and well-rested, however, and it's smooth sailing.

Emma is an awesome sleeper for the most part. She takes at least one solid 2 - 3 hour (or even more!) nap a day and then another 1 - 2 hour nap. She is usually in bed by about 8:30 and sleeps until 7:00 or so. She did have about a week of rough sleep right around four months, but she also popped a tooth through that week and slept through immediately after it came through. Same thing happened a week ago; grumpy couple of nights with one or two wakeups, and then a tooth and back to sleeping through the next night. I can't complain in this department at all.

She doesn't sit still at all. She is much more of a mover and shaker than her brother was at this age. If you put her down, she'll roll around front to back, back to front, trying to get places. She is this close to sitting up on her own (she actually can and does sit independently for a few minutes at a time). She loves her jumparoo and exersaucer. She hasn't used the baby swing in well over a month. She loves rattles and things go directly from hand to mouth.

Speaking of her mouth, we kind of stalled with solids. We introduced rice cereal at the advice of her pediatrician to help with her spitting up. She liked it "okay" but she just wasn't as enthusiastic about it as Will was. A few days ago, we tried giving her some banana in one of those self-feeder/mesh-thingies and she loved it! So, she gets about a half a banana a day, plus some rice cereal mixed with prune juice.

She is starting to make more sounds and her laughter is still about the most amazing thing I have ever heard. Fortunately, she blessed me with hearing it very often.

All in all, I consider myself extremely fortunate. She is pretty easy as far as infants go and I could just gobble up her cute pudgy thighs and cheeks. And don't get me started on her clothes!

Big Brother At Five Months

2010-12-30T10:00:00.001-08:00

When Emma was two months old, I wrote a post about Will's transition to being a big brother. I commended his sweetness and lack of jealousy. Though I knew rough waters could be ahead, it was smooth sailing at that point. A few of my commenters let me know about Sibing Rivalry: Phase Two (of Eleventy-Billion), which hits at about 5 - 6 months when the older sibling clues in that the newest family member is here to stay. As these commenters and friends are people that I trust and respect, I decided to enjoy the good times, but buckle up for the bad.

Well, here we are at five months. And I have to tell you, Will still exceeds my expectations as a big brother. He is amazing with his little sister.

He is protective. When other kids try to get in her business, he will run over and stand guard. He is okay if they look or touch very gently, but if they get too pushy or take a toy, he intervenes on her behalf. "My sister!" or "Emma's toy!" are his war cries as he swoops in to defend her, pushing a too-curious hand away from her face or recouping the toy and returning it to its rightful owner.

He is generous. Many a times, we have had to snatch a goldfish, lollipop, or other such yummy goodness right before it goes from his hand into her ol' mouth. Will likes to share his food and he is quick about it. We had many discussions with Will about how Emma only drinks milk, but then he got good and confused when we started solids. Oh, and we also told him many times that Emma couldn't eat XYZ because she doesn't have any teeth. Well, now he is good and confused because she has teeth! He also will bring her toys when he is playing, which is very sweet, but sometimes dangerous, as Matchbox cars from M's 1975 collection don't make good teethers.

He is a snuggle monster. He loves to "cuddle Emma," especially in his bed. This might be my favorite part of our days together and it's not just because it's right before nap or bedtime! I get my two little cherubs freshly diapered and into comfy sleep clothes and then pop them in Will's crib to read stories to them. They laugh, tickle each other, and generally have a rip-roaring good time. We are all laughing, nearly to tears, by the time I get through a rousing rendition of "The Belly Button Book".

Equally charming is how much Emma adores Will. She tracks him around the room with her eyes. Her eyes light up and her smile stretches to impossible proportions when he enters her line of sight. Watching how much they clearly love each other is so precious. I know there are many fights and "S/he hit me first/took my toys/ruined my life!" episodes ahead, so I am treasuring the amazing bond that is developing between them at the current time.

Now.

It's not all sunshine and roses here. What I have noticed lately is that he definitely has had a second round of jealousy. He is constantly asking for "up me" when I am taking Emma downstairs and cannot physically pick him up. He is going through a Mommy-phase where he prefers me to do things for him rather than M, which can be a challenge, especially at bedtime. He is two in every sense of the word with legendary tantrums that make me respect him for his tenacity and longevity, if not for the headeache these episodes leave me with. He is also just entering the dreaded "I do it meself!" which is already losing its luster.

But I am still so very proud of him. Being two isn't easy. There is so much to learn and do, so many feelings to process, so many adults telling him what he can and can't do. And he is doing a pretty stellar job of navigating this time in his life and being a pretty amazing brother on top of it all.

Oh my gosh. How I love these two little people. Their smiles make my world.

Merry, Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T12:19:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, dear friends! Despite a touch of sadness this holiday season (in addition to Jack, we also have gotten some bad health news in our family and know two families also going through some serious, terminal illnesses), we have so much to be grateful for. The things that have happened recently have made me really take stock of what is important. It made the craziness of the holiday season seem a bit less important and bring to light what really matters.

Seeing Christmas through the eyes of our children is. . . amazing. I keep having to pinch myself that we have two sweet babies this year. I have visions of future Christmases just getting better and better. I truly have everything I ever wanted or needed this year. I am so lucky and thank God every day for all that we have been blessed with.

Last year, we were all sick (Will with croup, M with a horrid cold, and me with first trimester blech) and had to travel to my parents. Following our Merry Sickmas, we decided to "Take Back The Holiday" this year. It was received about as well as we could have expected. My parents and little brother came up last weekend, we'll see my sister and brother-in-law in the New Year, and we are headed to M's family for the day.

I can't tell you how much of a difference this has made for us. It was our first Christmas Eve at our home. I did miss my parents and the feeling of being around family, but (and this is a huge but) not having to pack, being able to sleep in our own beds, and having the experience of leaving out cookies and milk and seeing Will's face as he came downstairs to find his train table this morning more than made up for it. And we are still celebrating with everyone, so it's like the Christmas that keeps on coming!

We went to Christmas Eve services at our church (a first for us!) and then came home and made pizzas (vegan, gluten/sugar/dairy-free pizzas that are awesome, thankyouverymuch!) and watched The Polar Express. Each kid got to open a small present and then we did cookies and milk for Santa and carrots and an apple for the reindeer. After tubbies and a million (okay, maybe five) Christmas stories, we got the kids in bed by 8 PM and I wrapped some last gifts while M put together Will's train table. We even shared some champagne as we listened to Christmas Carols. I felt like a little kid again as we prepared for Christmas morning.

This morning, Will discovered that Santa had come. He was in awe of the empty plate of cookies and drained class of milk. The reindeer only left an apple core and a bit of carrot. Santa also had to move our fireplace screen to get out and forgot to put it back, so there was a lot of "evidence" of his arrival. And, ohmyword, Will loves his new train table. He is so funny, because he'll play with it, then do something else and come back into the playroom and gasp, "A TRAIN TABLE!" and get excited all over again.

We exchanged presents (Emma's first baby doll, a beautiful mothers' necklace for me, and an X-Box game for M were the highlights) and opened stockings, I made us breakfast, and we watched some Caillou's Holiday Movie. I've been cooking ever since, as we are bringing quite a few things for Christmas dinner (a salad, pappa al pomodoro (made with gluten-free bread), veggies and hummus, chips and guac). My MIL is very supportive of our new healthy eating plan, but I don't expect her to make us anything special. The soup smells amazing and I made enough for anyone to have some who might be interested. Yes, we are still going strong. M has lost 28 pounds and I am back in all of my pre-pregnancy pants. We are still enjoying the food so much that we have just decided to keep trucking along.

All in all, this has been a perfect Christmas and it's not over yet. I am so thankful for all that we have been blessed with and that we have been able to enjoy some time here at our home with our own little family. I hope that you are also having a wonderful holiday season.

Me Too

2010-12-22T10:00:00.000-08:00

I don't talk much about religion on the good ol' blog. Mainly because it can be one of those divisive topics. I don't want to risk offending anyone and I also don't like it when the comment section blows up (which, fortunately, doesn't happen here very often).

So, to put it as simply as possible, we are Christians. We attend church on a semi-regular basis. I am part of a "growth group" through our church, which started last February. The moms and toddlers in that group have started to feel like family. Each of the lovely women in that group brought meals and offered childcare when Emma was born. I find church and my faith to be very comforting, especially during challenging times.

We pray with Will every night and have told him the Christmas Story. He loves nativities. I have a gorgeous nativity on our mantle and he will randomly run up to it and yell out, "Thank you, Jesus, for my family!"

The morning after Jack died, M and I were still in shock and I hadn't (gasp) done my usual research on what to say to Will if he asked where Jack was. We held our breath as Will came downstairs in the morning. Jack was very attached to him and followed him around to the very end, so we were expecting him to ask where his "shadow" was. To our suprise (and, frankly, relief) he didn't. He didn't ask all morning.

During his naptime, I finally got a chance to sit down and find out the appropriate things to say (and, possibly more importantly, what not to say) when discussing death with a toddler. It turns out that there aren't any hard and fast rules, but there were some very helpful suggestions. After nap, it finally happened. Will asked where Jack was.

M held him on his lap and I sat next to him and held his hand. We told him that Jack had died and that mean that he couldn't run, play, or bark anymore and that he wouldn't be coming home. We told him that Jack was with Jesus in heaven and although he missed us very much, he was very happy there. We told him that it was okay for him to be sad, to cry, to ask us any questions.

He seemed "okay" with this. He went off to play and we felt relieved that it was over. Fortunately, the websites also prepared us for the fact that toddlers will most likely ask for the missing loved one many, many times, as they really cannot grasp the finality of death. He didn't ask about Jack again until the next morning when we came downstairs and he asked me if Jesus was bringing Jack home today. It broke my heart to remind him that Jack can't ever come home. He sadly told me that he missed Jack and I told him that I missed him, too. He asked about a dozen more times that day if Jack was coming home.

My parents arrived Sunday and provided a welcome distraction (remember, they bring four dogs with them). Last night, my mom and I took Will for a Christmas Light Drive. We found a beautiful nativity scene and as we oohed and ahhed over it and pointed out Baby Jesus, Will all of a sudden got upset. It took me a minute to figure out that he was upset because he could see Baby Jesus, but Jack wasn't with him. I didn't exactly know how to explain that one. I told him that this wasn't the "real" Baby Jesus, that it was just a statue (he knows what statues are) and that the "real" Jesus lives in Heaven and that's where Jack is. He seemed to get it, but then he said, very sadly, "I wish Jack was here still, Mommy."

Me too, buddy. Me too.

On Grieving

2010-12-21T15:44:00.000-08:00

I don't have the heart or energy to post about Days of Christmas right now. I'll do a recap in a few days.

Losing Jack has really hit me hard. But it has also caused me to treat our remaining animals better, so there is a hidden blessing even in tragedy.

Everywhere I turn, my little dog isn't there. He slept curled against my legs at night and I think it is there that I miss him the most.

His "remains" (how I detest that word) are waiting for us at the vet. I don't have the heart or energy to pick those up either.

I know that this is still a fresh wound, but I am already impatient with myself in this grief. I have felt the loss of a human at Christmastime (Gummy Bear in 2006). I realize that compared to what others are grappling with right now, this loss is so minor. So I try to buck up and move on. Sometimes, that is easier to do.

His collar is still in the basket in the front hall. I see it every time I leash Rocky to take him for a walk. I should probably put it away, but for some reason, I can't. I did vacuum up some fur that I knew was his. The finality of that action made me stand still and cry.

I did put his food dish away, but the empty place where it sat on the kitchen floor nags me. It just seems like the house is much more empty than usual all around.

I still "see" him, in the shadows of Will's bedroom, where he used to patiently wait for me to "rock rock" Will to sleep. I still "see" him on the rug, where he used to lie, waiting for me to get out of the shower. I still "see" him at the back door, when I just let the dogs out. I still "see" him many places, but he isn't really there. The permanence of loss is much harder to see.

I know there are greater and deeper losses than the loss of a pet. I know that. But it still hurts.

Jack

2010-12-17T02:30:00.001-08:00

I'll catch up with the Days of Christmas in another post, but it's 2:34 in the morning, and no one is awake to talk to. Since my blog has always been the place I go to find comfort, I am here.

Just a few minutes ago, I hung up the phone with M. He's at the emergency vet with our dog, Jack, and we had to make the decision to put him to sleep. It really wasn't a tough decision, for which I am grateful. He apparently was practically in a diabetic coma (we didn't know he had diabetes and he has had regular vet care - not blaming our vet, just working my way through the "how could we have not known guilties") and had internal bleeding (no idea how that happened, either). He was pretty much dead by the time M got him to the vet. He had stopped breathing with me here at home and was pretty unresponsive. I tearfully said good-bye to him in our driveway and wished that I could go, too, just so M didn't have to do this alone. But with our babies sleeping upstairs, I went back inside and waited for the call.

His vitals were very poor and getting worse. Basically, if we didn't intervene, he would have died on his own. Our choices were: 3 - 4 days in intensive care and $8,000 - $12,000 in medical bills and no guarantees as to the outcome or to end his suffering. It wasn't really an option. And when M got home, he sadly told me that he was still signing the paperwork to have him put to sleep, when he actually passed away on his own. We are both sad that he was with strangers when he died.

We had a few scares with Jack along the way. He had pancreatitis twice. He had back problems that made him so sick that I thought he was a goner for sure. One time, he had a seizure in response to a medication for those problems, and I thought he had died. He was fine by the time we got him to the vet, which is less than five minutes from our house.

But things had been pretty calm for the last couple of years. I would teasingly say that he was going to live 'til 25. Tonight, he proved me wrong.

I have a lot of mixed feelings right now. Obviously, number one, I am sad. I also feel guilty. I haven't been the greatest pet owner for quite some time now. I am often overwhelmed between two dogs, one cat, and two kids under three. Jack was a lot of good things, but he was not an easy dog. When we picked him out at the humane society 11 years ago, the guy at the front desk told me that I didn't want him and that he was TROUBLE. I didn't listen.

We had him home for two days and he seemed like the Perfect Dog. Then, we left him alone to go to breakfast one morning. We returned home to find the apartment trashed. Seriously, it looked like a hurricane had come through. Our Perfect Dog was prancing around by our feet, eager to see us. We laughed, cleaned up the mess, and hoped it was a one-off. Nope. It was only the beginning.

Jack had separation anxiety. Dog trainers, obedience classes, and finally, a prescription for Clomicalm made it manageable, but it was still a daily challenge. When left alone, he would urinate and defecate on the carpet. Crating him wasn't really an option because he would go insane if caged. He could get out of any normal crate, so we had to get creative to contain him. While we could figure out a way to keep him in (by wrapping a thick chain around the bars of the crate), he would try to get out anyway and scrape his nose until it was swollen to twice its size, bleeding and raw.

We didn't have the heart to see that happen, so he had to stay in our garage while we were away. Despite weekly clean outs with bleach, soap, and water, I felt as if our garage always had a "doggy" odor from all of Jack's activities. It was frustrating to have guests over because he would bark the. entire. time he was in the garage. Recently, he had started having accidents in the house even when I was there and he'd just been out.

But.

He was my first "baby." He was our first major purchase together and a symbol of our early relationship. He was fiercely loyal. Most of his problems were because he just wanted to be with us. He had been abused before he came to us and it took him along time to really trust us. M was the only man he wasn't afraid of.

He caught many, many tears in his fur during our infertile and miscarriage years. He was my constant companion. He would lay on the rug in the bathroom while I took a bath. He never would go up to bed without me. No matter if I had just yelled at him for one of his many not-so-savory bad habits, he was always happy to see me and eager for a pat.

He was enchanted with Will when he was born and fiercely protective of him. Even now, when Will would wake from a nap and start calling for me, Jack led the way up to his room. If strangers came to the house, he would bark and was actually pretty intimidating, though he was a small dog.

I could go on and on about both his misadventures and the good times we shared. But there aren't really enough words to fully explain everything and how I feel. All I know is that the house is too quiet today and my world is minus one doggy heart that was filled with love. And my own heart is a bit broken.

On the Third Day of Christmas

2010-12-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

First things first: here is our sweet little girl on Santa's Lap. . .

For today's event, we made Christmas Crowns (using stickers and tinsel as our decorations). My mom had mailed Will a Santa letter that arrived today, so this Santa got to take a day off. He loves getting mail, so that was kind of fun, but I sometimes don't think he "gets it". Of course, he is only two, so he has some time :).

We also went to a girlfriend's house for a yummy lunch and playtime. There might have even been mimosas for the mommies!

I have to say, this year is probably stacking up to be the most amazing Christmas I've had since I was a young child myself. Watching it through Will's eyes makes it so incredible. He is still experiencing the innocent joy of Christmas, the fun in the anticipation, but not really the gifts. I mean, he likes the gifts, don't get me wrong, but the whole thing isn't about them. I wonder how long that will last! Hopefully for awhile.

On the Second Day of Christmas

2010-12-14T17:40:00.000-08:00

Well, Santa was a flop.

Will has been asking to see Santa. If you ask him what he wants Santa to bring him for Christmas, there isn't a hint of hesitation before he replies: "A train table!!"

He was all excited to get dressed in his Santa Train shirt and wanted to bring his I Love Trains book to see the Big Guy. He talked about it all morning and on the way there.

Turns out, the boy is all talk.

There wasn't a line at all, so we walked right up to Santa. From the safety of his stroller, Will shyly showed Santa his book. Santa "ho-ho'd" appropriately. I took Emma from the stroller and placed her in Santa's willing arms. No problem-o.

Then I went to get Will from his stroller and. . .

tears, screaming, and mass hysteria ensued.

There was no sitting on Santa's Lap for Will this year. I guess I could have gone for the screaming, body-twisting picture, but I just didn't have the heart for it.

Meanwhile, Emma took an adorable picture.

And Will announced that "Emma told Santa" what he wanted.

So we're all good (and when we get the picture in a couple of days, I will post it here).

The First Day of Christmas

2010-12-13T22:41:00.000-08:00

I have seen other creative bloggers doing advent calendars for their kiddos with fun holiday events or gifts for each day. My mom did this when I was little, but I was thinking Will was kind of little for it this year.

It turns out, however, that Will is super into Christmas this year. And I happened to have a lot of random stuff around the house that was inexpensive (a box of Cheezits, bubbles, etc.) and could be wrapped in scraps of wrapping paper. I am also unashamedly pimping Santa when I am trying to get Will to cooperate with or do something that he doesn't want to do. I remind himt that "Santa is watching" and if he wants Santa to come and visit him, he needs to be good (oh, how much like a mom do I sound like?).

So the first "Santa" letter came today. Santa said that he had his elves send a few extra presents for Will to open at the end of each day if he has been a good boy. Will has been enjoying the letter and the box of Curious George Fruit snacks that he opened today.

Each day, I'll give him a letter and we'll try to do something holiday related, even if it's a cop-out read a Christmas story or watch Polar Express. Eleven days left. . .

Detox Complete. . . Or Is It?

2010-12-12T10:29:00.000-08:00

So, it's been two weeks since my husband and I began our Vegan Detox Plan. Overall, I have to say, I think it was a great success and I encourage even the meatiest of meat eaters out there to at least give it a try.

M lost 16.5 (that .5 is very important, he won't let me forget it!) pounds, I lost 4. I also lost a lot of bloat and am down a complete pant size, which was more important to me than what the scale says. I am now wearing a two pairs of jeans that I haven't worn since before I got pregnant with Emma.

I learned an incredible amount about my body and how it reacts to and processes food. I had always heard people say that you "aren't eating enough," when trying to lose weight. I never understood that reasoning. It seemed that diets and losing weight were all about not eating or eating much less than usual. With this plan, I really listened to my body, and people, my body was HUNGRY. The first week, I shoved food in my face at an alarming rate. Of course, it was all unprocessed, incredibly healthy, natural foods, but it was still food. I wasn't surprised that the scale barely budged. This week, I still ate a lot. More than I ever have eaten on any sort of "diet" before. But the scale dropped anyway.

My head feels clearer and I definitely have more energy. I am loving being creative in the kitchen. I made a delicious mango green curry, spinach and sweet potato enchiladas (the sauce was amazing, the filling needs some work) with a spanish rice that you couldn't even tell was vegan, and a tortilla soup that was very tasty. We had "burgers" last night and french fries. We both felt as if we were eating way too well to be on any sort of "diet."

So. . . are you ready to be shocked again? We're not done. We are going to add soy into our diet to increase our protein sources and I am going to allow myself the occasional agave syrup in my tea, but M doesn't want to go back to meat yet. At this point, we are going to go week to week and see where we are and how we are feeling.

I don't see us going vegan or even vegetarian permanently, but for now, we are both feeling better, losing weight, and happy with what we are eating. Who knew?

Balance

2010-12-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

Right now, one of my greatest struggles (besides not eating the cheese from Will's plate when I fix him a meal) as a parent is trying find a balance between what is best for Will and what is best for Emma. . . and, okay, I'll admit it, what is best for me.

I am just going to say it: I hate staying home everyday. A day here or there with no scheduled outside activities is fine. But I am not good at being home, day after day, after day, after day, after you get the point.

Now that Emma is (knock on wood) on some sort of daytime sleep schedule, I want to honor that. But if she sleeps from 9:30 - 11:30 and then needs to go back down at 1:30 and Will also needs to go down around that time, it leaves us precious little time for getting out of the house. Most activities seem to start earlier which means either drastically shortening or skipping her morning nap altogether.

So I am stuck between getting Emma the rest she needs and getting Will (and me) the stimulation that we need. Most mornings, Emma loses that battle. I find that she can grab a 20 minute catnap on our way some place and then stay reasonably sane during our morning outing, only to grab another 20 minute catnap on our way home. The payoff is that she takes a nice, long afternoon nap.

But it kind of makes me feel guilty. I oftentimes feel as if Emma gets the short end of the stick. Will's needs are usually easier to both decipher and tend to (he needs a drink of water or for me to take off his socks), so that I can then take more time figuring out what Emma needs, so I usually make her wait for the few minutes that it takes to meet his needs. While I feel as if Emma is still very loved and cared for, I am still aware of the fact that she is getting less of my time, attention, and outright adoration than Will did at this point. So, it makes me feel as if I "owe" her a bit as far as protecting her sleep.

I am fortunate in that she doesn't seem to be one of those babies can gets overtired and can't sleep (Will was one of those), so that we can still get out in the morning and she will still take an afternoon nap. For now, I am trying to balance it in terms of staying home some days and getting out some days. But then it seems unbalanced per week. Like last week, we were home all week (Will and I were bored - Emma was rested) and then this week we are busy and gone a lot (Emma is rested - Will and I are getting more stimulation).

Perhaps A Reason She Isn't Sleeping

2010-12-07T19:21:00.001-08:00

Emma got her first tooth! I last checked on Friday: no tooth.

M was sitting with her on his lap tonight and she was going to town on his finger and he said, "Did she get a tooth?"

I said that I didn't know, but upon closer inspection, sure enough! A tooth!

Her brother also got a tooth at four months so she is keeping in the family tradition.

It's funny, but knowing that this is my last child, these milestones are bittersweet. I also know how fast the time flies and how quickly these moments are gone. I am so excited when she does something new or grows in some amazing way, but there is also a realization that she is one step further from that helpless, tiny baby, and one step closer to the adult woman she will someday become. And of course, that's the way it should be, but it still makes a small part of me want to slow down time.

Dear Four Month Sleep Regression, You Suck. Not-So-Fondly, Katie

2010-12-07T14:04:00.000-08:00

Ugh. The Four Month Sleep Regression is here. Double ugh.

I have always found backslides in sleep to be one of the most frustrating things about parenthood. Emma had been sleeping great and I was really enjoying my full night of rest (knowing how lucky I was and thanking my stars for it every. single. night). So, when she woke up three times last Thursday night, I was hoping it was just a one-off.

It wasn't.

She's been up at least once every night since then. Which I realize is par for the course with a young newborn. But I still don't love it.

The only good thing about the Sleep Regression this time around is that I know, like everything else, it's just a phase. She (hopefully, fingers crossed, prayers fervently said) will sleep again.

And so will I.

Calling All Seattle Area Bloggers

2010-12-06T09:06:00.000-08:00

So, two of my fellow Seattle-area-bloggers (Jen and Sunny) and myself are coordinating a get-together in late-January, after all of the craziness from the holidays have died down.

This get-together is open to anyone who reads our blog(s) and are crazy enough to want to meet us in person or anyone who hasn't read our blog(s) and just wants to get together with those that have been in the trenches.

More details can be found here. If you aren't in the local area but have readers who might be, please pass the message along. Thanks!

Hope to meet some of you then.

Detox Wrap

2010-12-04T14:57:00.000-08:00

So it's been a few days since the start of our vegan detox, and I have to say, I like it. It does not feel like a diet whatsoever. In fact, I have been stuffing my face more than ever. Which is probably why I haven't lost any weight. But since that wasn't the point, I am not letting it bother me. I am trying to pay attention to my body and what it needs. And the fact that I have been eating as much as I have and haven't gained any weight is something to celebrate. Even though the scale hasn't changed, I have noticed that my pants are fitting differently and I don't seem as bloated.

M, on the other hand, gah. He has lost nine pounds. That's not a typo. That is nine pounds. Now, granted, M has more weight to lose than me in the scheme of things, but still! I have to say, I find it irritating how quickly guys can lose weight when they only just try.

All jealousy aside, I am very proud of M. While veggies and fruits are my favorites, they are not his. This has been much more of a change of lifestyle for him than for me. Today, he grabbed an apple for a snack and I jokingly told him that had to be one of the signs of the Apocalypse. He said his boss did a double take when he caught him snacking on baby carrots at his desk this week. He deserves those nine pounds.

I have had two girlfriends over this week and both have loved the carrot ginger soup. They were both skeptical and I really had to twist the arm of my second girlfriend to try "just a bit," then she wanted a whole bowl (which she practically licked) and the recipe!

As for the dreaded detox symptoms, both M and I were exhausted on Wednesday night and Thursday was a bit rough. It was nothing that would keep me from recommending this to a friend, but I did have a mild headache and queasiness for most of the day. But I felt as if I turned a corner yesterday and today, I feel as if I have a lot more energy.

Also, in a possibly coincidental side note, I have noticed my milk supply increasing. I really think it's because I have been eating more.

So, what did we eat for the rest of the week?

Thursday night was cauliflower and sweet potato in a garam masala indian curry sauce with brown rice. Friday was vegan burgers with baked sweet potato fries. The burgers had a good flavor, but needed a different texture. I am going to tweak them next time.

We have both decided to do another week of this detox (at first, we only committed to a week). I am going to have to get creative to make some different meals (sweet potato enchiladas are an idea I am working on).

So, wish us luck!

Day Three

2010-12-01T07:14:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I stretch M a little too far last night. Carrot ginger soup is not something that he enjoys enough to make it a meal. Even with a salad.

I served Will a bowl of the soup with a grilled cheese and turkey sandwich. I thought M was going to snatch the food right from his son's plate. He is definitely not enjoying the detox as much as I am.

Me? I'm doing great! I am enjoying the food that I am making. I love trying new recipes and I had never made a soup like the ginger carrot one. It was very easy, if a bit time consuming (peeling carrots, grating ginger, dicing onions and potatoes), and I was very pleased with the results.

I do think that my love of cooking and trying new recipes is helpful when trying to do this detox. If you didn't like to cook, I think you'd eat raw fruits and veggies for two weeks and be sick to death of them by about two days in.

Here's what we are eating today.

Breakfast

Toast with almond butter and banana (for M)
Oatmeal with almond butter, flaxseeds, banana, and brown rice milk (for me)

Snack

Satsuma oranges, grapes,

Lunch

Leftover tacos (for M)
Leftover soup (for me)

Snack

Veggies and hummus

Dinner

Brown rice pasta with roasted veggies, homemade tomato sauce, and olive oil
Salad

One thing that I am finding is that I am not really all that hungry for dinner. I am ravenous when I wake up in the morning. I have been eating just a bit of dinner and drinking a lot of lemon water.

I had one of my girlfriends ask me yesterday if I plan to go vegan permanently. That's honestly something that I can't answer right now. Although my first reaction was, "Ya gotta be kidding me!", her question got me thinking about the direction I really do want to go after this detox is over. I am very interested to see how I feel in a few more days. The way that I am eating these past few days feels. . . natural to me. I don't even feel as if I am on a detox. I feel as if I am on an eating vacation where the world is my buffet of yummy foods. I am sure I would get bored of the limited foods that the detox allows, but a true vegan diet has a lot more options. Anyway, let's not get carried away, it's only day three.

I did have a random and brief craving for cheese today, but what I am most surprised about right now is how little I am craving sugar. I have been warned, however, that Days 3 and 4 are the worst as far as food withdrawal symptoms and cravings, so I am bracing myself just in case, but so far, so good.

Day Two

2010-11-30T07:15:00.000-08:00

So far, I am really enjoying this Detox Plan. First and foremost, I think it's because it's not a diet, in that we are not trying to lose weight, so I feel no stress from it. Secondly, I love to eat this way. Raw fruits and veggies, wholesome protein, and some good fats. It feels good.

I did switch out our menu last night. We had black bean tacos instead of the carrot ginger soup. I figured I didn't want to shock my meat-loving husband's system too much. The tacos were soooo easy to make (onions and green pepper sauteed in oil with some cumin, salt, and pepper - then add some minced garlic, chopped tomatoes, diced green chiles, black beans, and freshly ground flax seeds - served with corn tortillas with fresh tomatoes, red onion, cilantro, guacomole, and brown rice) and were seriously amazing. . . so much flavor! I didn't even miss the cheese or sour cream that I would normally pile on a taco.

I am seriously loving this so far. Of course, it's only Day Two. Here is what we are eating today.

Breakfast

Gluten-free toast with almond butter and sliced bananas
Brown rice topped with almond butter and apricot

Snack

Sliced apple with almond butter

Lunch

Leftover tacos

Snack

Carrots and celery with hummus

Dinner

Carrot-ginger soup
Cabbage and carrot slaw

I have also been drinking lemon water like it's my job. Which means that I have also been using the bathroom a lot, but I think that's a good thing. I also made an awesome spiced coffee with brown rice milk that I drank throughout the day (I used decaf coffee since I am nursing, but it tasted great!).

Overall, I am just happy to be eating healthy, wholesome food. I will admit that it's taking more time and pre-planning than my meals usually require, but I am glad to be taking the extra time to do something that feels good for my body. It's so easy for us moms to put our well-being at the bottom of our to-do list so it feels good to be doing something for me which also happens to benefit our kids.

Also, I got an e-mail from a concerned reader about nursing and doing a vegan detox. I just wanted to let everyone know that I checked in with my OB and since this is such a well-balanced eating plan and not "cleanse" diet (a cleanse by definition would have no solid food - just liquids), this it is okay for breastfeeding. Just wanted to reassure everyone that I would never, ever put anything above Emma's health and well-being. Honestly, I ate more yesterday than I usually would. If I start to have any adverse effects, I will add back a lean protein source and/or dairy as recommended by my doctor. I am also continuing to take my prenatal vitamin and a calcium supplement.

Detox Ain't Just For Li-Lo*

2010-11-29T08:08:00.001-08:00

Okay, what I am about to tell you is absolutely shocking.

Well, not shocking perhaps. But if you knew me (well, my husband, especially) in real life, you'd fall off of your chair with laughter at what I am about to tell you.

No, I am not pregnant.

M and I are starting a Vegan Detox today. Now, me, I could be a vegetarian perhaps. I have always felt a little blegh when it comes to meat and I probably could psych myself into never eating meat again. BUT (huge pause for dramatic effect) I love my dairy. Cheese, milk, ice cream, cheese, and have I mentioned cheese? Or ice cream?

Also (another pause for the drama), my husband? Oh, my husband loves meat. He adores it. He loves to chew it from bones, saw it from huge steaks, lob it down in hamburgers the size of his head. He dreams about meat. He also eschews most vegetables, especially the green ones, unless they are literally drowning in ranch dressing or cheddar cheese sauce. In case you were wondering, meat, ranch dressing, and cheddar cheese sauce are all items you would not find on any vegan menu.

On the other hand, both of us are feeling lousy lately; general indigestion, bloating, headaches, and just a general yucky feeling. For me, I know it's because we have been eating like crap since I was pregnant. I am starting to get my groove back now that Emma is napping a bit more regularly (not scheduled, but I can count on at least one good stretch a day), I can put a bit more time into meal planning and preparation. But even then, I make a lot of dishes that count on a box of something premade. There are many times when I skip making a salad or healthful side dish because, let's face it, carbs and fats are just so much easier and faster to slop on the plate. There are nights when M grabbing something through the drive-thru is so much more appealing than taking my free twenty minutes of the day to cook dinner.

I just feel kind of "bogged down" by what we've been putting in our mouths. And with two children to set a good example for, it gives us that much more incentive to eat better. While weight loss is not the purpose of this detox, I also know that if we eat this way for two weeks, there is no way that some pounds won't come off. Even if they don't, I am hoping to "retrain" us to eat a few more fruits and veggies, some healthful protein, and a few less carbs and bad fats.

I started feeling this way when I was pregnant and my good blog friend Mel was doing this. At the time, I promised myself that once life was somewhat under control again, I would do it. I didn't know if I'd be able to convince my meat-revering husband to go along for the ride. The past few weeks, however, he has been talking about wanting to change things up, so I figured it was now or never.

I shopped yesterday and had a lot of fun doing it. The total made me cringe a bit and made me wonder why it costs so much more to eat real food than processed food, but I believe it's worth it. Of course, this is also not the greatest time of year to be buying enough fruit and vegetables to feed a small army. Fortunately, a new WinCo just opened up a few blocks from our house. Their produce and fresh herb selection is amazing and the prices are unbeatable. They also have a phenomenal bulk food section where I was able to get a lot of spices and the more random things, like flaxseeds and nutritional yeast for a fraction of what they would have cost elsewhere. They also (cue angels singing) have a small section of gluten-free breads, bagels, and pizza crusts. I skipped those for now, but if we decide to cut gluten for a bit longer, I will definitely be visiting that section again.

So, here we go. Day 1. Here is what we are going to be eating:

Breakfast

Oatmeal with bananas and walnuts

Snack

Veggies and hummus

Lunch

Mixed greens with corn, avocado, black beans, raw sunflower seeds, and a homemade lime-tomatillo-vinaigrette

Snack

Grapes (and some raw cashews for M)

Dinner

Carrot-ginger soup**
Cabbage and carrot "slaw" with a hummus-based dressing

* Okay, Li-Lo might be the dorkiest celeb nickname I have ever heard. But it sure beats Firecrotch.

**I am super exciteed to try this soup. It sounds amazing!

THANKSgiving

2010-11-24T19:54:00.001-08:00

We have so much to be thankful for. Here are the blessings that I am counting this year.

Our health.

Our warm and cozy home.

Food in our bellies.

And, of course, I am most thankful for our miracle babies. Oh, how I love them!

Happy Thanksgiving to you, my dear friends!