Another (Few) Week(s) Gone...

Hmmm... the title says it all. If you actually make it to the end of this post, you'll know why. My last post was in mid-July. I think it's really rude that July just up and ended so quickly. It would have been far more polite to hang around a bit instead of rushing off like that. Oh well, maybe August will slow things down a bit.

Maybe.

I can hardly believe how quickly the kids are changing and picking up on new things. It's only been three weeks, but the pictures show all kinds of firsts, and everyday I'm reminded what fast little learners they are. Mark is saying new words everyday: wawa (water), nana (banana), uh-oh, shoes, all done, hi, and bye-bye are just a few. He also makes the sign for hungry, and even though he can't say eat, he gets his point across by heading straight to his chair when he wants breakfast. When he runs out of milk in the mornings, he stands in the doorway of the kitchen whimpering. Once he sees me headed his way, he bolts for the refrigerator door and tries to open it. "One sippy cup of milk, coming up!"

Grace is communicating quite well herself these days. She always pulls a chair into the kitchen saying "I wanna see. I wanna see Mama, I wanna see." Then she climbs on the chair to observe whatever it is I'm doing. Recently I was cooking at the stove, and Grace pretended to be cooking dinner on the other burner. When I asked what she was making, she replied, "Ice." Well, it was either that or PB&J, since those are the only two food requests she makes these days.

As I was slogging through three weeks of pictures I realized there has definitely been a theme the last few weeks. Mark discovered the water hose for the first time and took to it like a fish... well, you know.

Everything works better when you stick your tongue out.

He also mastered the "drink from the hose" trick.
Sort of.

That weekend Daddy got some time to himself while we headed to Disneyland Papa and DeeDee's house. After we settled in, Papa took Grace to try out the trampoline. Since "hop" is one of her favorite things to do, she thought this was the best thing evar.

"Look at me Mama! Look at me!"
(Another one of her favorite lines.)

After that, Papa washed his "big truck" and guess what? There was water!

"Uh, Grace? Why is there soap in the water? Are they
afraid we're going to find dirt somewhere or something?"

Lo and behold, Papa had a water hose too!
Mark was mesmerized.

"Look Papa! I already mastered the Drink from the Hose trick!"

As usual, my kids found the perfect spot to dry off:

"Gee Mark, all this land and they choose to cover it in grass.
Good thing we found a tiny spot of dirt to keep us occupied!"

After being such big helpers with washing Papa's truck, we went inside to help DeeDee:

"More cleaner please DeeDee!"
(Mark would hold up the towel for some cleaner,
then wipe the mirror. He wouldn't be fooled by a
"fake" spray of cleaner either, he waited for the real thing!)

"Hmmm. I wonder why DeeDee gives us three baths a day,
and Mama only gives us one bath every three days?"

After nap, cousin Lizzie (who was also visiting) introduced Grace and Mark to the new puppies born just the week before. Grace was very delicate with them, and did NOT want to hold any puppies. She was okay with approaching them on her terms, but if we tried to give one to her, or if they started to crawl toward her she would freak.

"Here puppy, let me pet you with one finger..."

Mark, on the other hand, had no such reservations:

"HI PUPPY!!"

"OOOOHHHH! You're smaller than I am!"
"How come you don't open your eyes?"

"Oh! You're waitin' for a kiss! Here you go...!"

Nope. No reservations at all.

When we went out front to put the puppies back into their house, guess what we found???

"Look Gracie! A water hose!"

Yep, he's got this trick down.
He should. He's had plenty of practice.

It took the kids about five minutes to figure out
the best spot to try and turn grass into mud.

Luckily, Grace is good at completing the clean up!

Uncle Kevin and Auntie Kim came to pick up Liz, and after all the excitement from the weekend, Mark was happy to find a great place to snuggle up and rest:

Uncle Kevin, a.k.a. "The Mark Whisperer"

The following weekend, the cousins came to our house to visit while Auntie went to the homeschooling conference. (I'm determined to go next year!) We played outside (sans water) and played some games too...

"Hey! What happened to my motor?
No stopping for the papparazzi!"

"Good job Grace! You're a super duper Xbox player!"
"Yeah, I learned it from my dad. Watch this!"

"Hey John! I'm a super duperer Xbox playerific! Watch me too!"
(Mom disclaimer: Neither of my children play Xbox.
They only play "controllers".)

Don't worry, amid all this excitement we got in some of the usual activities too. Grace was given "real" puzzles from her cousins. They varied from 12 to 24 pieces. She loves them. It's her new favorite request. "Play puzzles? Play puzzles?" She's amazingly good at finding the pieces and turning them to fit into the right place.

She's also had her first encounter with band-aids. She got a scraped knee, and it was enough to warrant some attention. Oy. Can I take that action back? She requests band-aids at all sorts of random intervals now! In the middle of a meal, halfway through a cartoon... and of course, as a ploy to keep from going to bed. I may hold some of the blame. When she asks... I usually give her one. What can I say? They're Strawberry Shortcake bandaids, and she's even cuter than the little redhead on the package!

Since we're past potty training, we're now into bathroom training. Or toilet paper training. Or put-your-underwear-back-on-before-leaving-the-bathroom training. Whatever you want to call it, we're there. Grace is pretty good at handling the mechanics of actually going to the bathroom, but once the deed is done she often ends up running around the house half naked. And typically with unwashed hands. Luckily, I have evidence that she is at least aware she's supposed to be using toilet paper:

Good thing there's a plunger handy.

This week the weather has been beautiful, and the kids have played outside quite a bit. I often have my camera in hand, which is how I managed to record just how quickly Mark can go from playing to eating:

Mud Pie!

I swear this happened in a shutter flash. I snapped the shot while reaching with my other hand to get the dirt out of his mouth. In the photo below, the water under his eyes is tears, not a product of the garden hose. He was quite irritated that I didn't let him swallow the dirt. Since then, he's eaten at least four handfuls. (That I've witnessed. I try not to think about what I haven't seen.) There's only so much I can do. So far he seems none the worse for wear. If he starts to grow turnips from his ears, I'll crack down.

He got this shirt as a birthday gift.
Someone knows him very, very well.

Another first for Mark this week was his very own, not shared, not-held-by-anyone-but-himself ice cream cone! He walked around with it stuck to his mouth like a bottom feeder for the first five minutes. He would suck on the ice cream like it was a sippy cup. Maybe he was afraid if he took it from his lips he wouldn't get anymore. Once he finally came up for air, he consumed it so quickly I barely got any pictures. Until he dropped it on the ground. That slowed him down - but not for long. It was mostly gone anyway, so I let him finish. Hey - you saw the picture up there. I'm going to take away his ice cream because there's a little dirt on it? Who am I kidding?

Must. Eat. Quickly.
Cannot. Share. Cone...

Of course, Grace loved it too. She made sure to show
my camera her treat, and her face says it all.
Yay for summer and ice cream cones!

"Grace? Do you think Mama will take away my ice
cream if she finds out I dropped it in the dirt?"

"Nah, she'll let you finish it. She's crazy nice like that."

Thanks for catching up with all the summertime fun! Hope you're getting some good times in this summer too. I'll leave you with just one more potty story - they're too entertaining not to share.

This week at breakfast Grace announced she needed to go potty. Seeing that she was finished, I excused her from the table and sent her on her way. (It's so nice not to have to accompany her all the time, even if it ends up in a small TP disaster on occasion.) As she sprinted toward the bathroom, I cleaned up Mark and let him wander free too. I heard them playing in the front room as I finished cleaning the breakfast dishes. It's so nice to be able to focus on something while they play and giggle, rather than running in to referee every two minutes. Once I was done, I headed in to check on the kids...

...and I found this.
The END(s)!

Someday...

Someday I will not be peed or pooped on.
Someday I will find my keys where I left them.
Someday I will have a clean floor after meal time.

Someday I will not have my hair pulled.
Someday I will keep my glasses clean for more than twenty minutes.
Someday I will not referee.
Someday I will sleep through the night without the hum of a baby monitor in my ear.
Someday I will dress only myself.

Someday I will get out of the car with no help - and so will everyone else.
Someday I will relax and enjoy myself at a family party.
Someday I will eat a hot meal.
Someday I will sleep in on the weekend.

Mommy and Grace camping.
Grace is 8 months old.

Someday I will leave the house without worrying about extra clothes, diapers or snacks.
Someday I will have time to sort through all the pictures I love to take.
Someday I will cook steak for dinner and everyone will be able to eat it.
Someday I will not fish foreign objects out of the toilet.

It's a rock. I'm sure it could have been worse.

Someday I will forget the tune of Elmo's World (maybe).
Someday I will plan my day around something other than nap time.
Someday I will not have to push my kids on the swings.
Someday I will not have to clean food out of my hair - or anyone elses.

Someday I will not find my favorite skillet in the bedroom closet.
Someday I will drink a hot cup of coffee. Maybe even two.
Someday I will not worry about anyone pooping in the bathtub.

Was that me?

Someday I will eat at a restaurant and only worry about my own food.
Someday I will take long, hot showers.
Someday I will watch my children play on the slide without being right next to them.
Someday I will have a living room free of large, brightly colored toys.

Someday I will no longer consider buying a cow because of how much milk we drink.
Someday I will not have to repeat everything my toddler says.
Someday I will receive a request other than peanut butter and jelly for lunch.
Someday I will be able to have a conversation with my kids.
Someday I will play a board game with the whole family.
Someday I will sing and dance like crazy with my kids. Maybe even in public.

Someday I will smile as I listen to my children play make believe.
Someday I will laugh as my children tell me jokes.
Someday I will cherish listening to my children giggle as they talk instead of sleep.
Someday I will wish my precious little babies hadn't grown up.

Another Week Gone...

Okay, so this blog is three days late. Do you want to know why? (Well, if you're still reading, of course you do!) I have a major mommy confession to make.

I took NO pictures of the kids this week. None. Nada. Zero. Zip. For most moms, that's par for the course. For me, it's practically child neglect. So, since I had very little material to give you... I didn't.

However, I did have some exciting stuff happen in my little blogger life, so I'll tell you all about that instead. How's that sound? (Not as good huh? Well, it's all I've got. As I tell the kids "You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit.")

Moving on.

Monday's post about my Quantum Toddler was my 100th post!!!

Wow! 100 totally random and barely decipherable ravings! You're welcome.

Seriously, I am pretty excited about the whole thing. Despite my lackluster performance with keeping to a schedule lately, I've seen my readership grow, and I've been getting all kinds of nice feedback from you wonderful people, so it's pretty fun to reach a milestone like that.

Speaking of feedback, I also changed my comment system (yet again) because we couldn't seem to fix the old one. Now we're back to the regular Blogger system and guess what?!? Within 24 hours of moving back - I got my first spammer comment!! Yay!
(I told you this was an exciting blogger week for me.) Yeppers, somebody made a comment about how I had such a nice blog that they bookmarked it. And then they posted a link to a site selling cell phones. Woot! From what I hear, hate mail is the next big step in my blogger life. I can hardly wait.

Lastly, I received another blogger award! Now, I know I told you last year that I was giving up the whole competitive blogger world, and just settling in my own little corner. This is still true. However, when someone is nice enough to find me in this corner, and they don't imply that I'm here because I've misbehaved and "need to think about what I've done", then I like to say thanks. So here goes:

A big thank you to Bert over at First Time Mom (FTM) for sending the Verstatile Blogger award my way! As usual, there are some requirements that go with accepting this honor. You are supposed to share 7 things about yourself, and then pass the award on to 15 other newly discovered bloggers.

Well, if you haven't noticed, I barely have time to keep up my own blog, much less "discover" fifteen others. So you're looking at a mama with no new blogger friends. I do follow some pretty great blogs though, so please see the "Stuff I Like To Read" column to the right if you're looking for some great reading.

I am capable of sharing seven things about myself though, and I'll try to make them remotely interesting - or at least something you may not have known about me. Hopefully these revelations won't keep you from ever visiting Sunshine SAHM again.

1) I hate being called Jenny. Jennifer or Jen is just fine, but only my cousin Andy and my Aunt Peggy are allowed to call me Jenny. And, oddly enough, if Andy or Aunt Peggy were to call me anything else, I'd feel hurt. I guess the seven year old in me still needs a little encouragement every now and then.

2) I read CNBC daily (yes, even Saturday and Sunday, pointless as it is). I follow the financial markets pretty closely. Just this week, I was on the phone with our financial guy discussing the downturn in the market while changing a poopy diaper.

Yeah, wouldn't you love to drop that into a discussion when telling people you're a SAHM? "Yes, I stay at home with my kids - but I'm not an idiot! I can discuss the finer points of market downturns and dollar deleveraging while wiping rear ends. Now wipe that smirk off your face before I re-allocate your portfolio." Yeah - that would be fun.

3) I'm an INTJ. If you don't know what that means, find out what you are here. Then Google it. A Google search on my personality dug up this. I must confess, the Guide to Dealing with INTJ's at that link is absolutely right on - and I hope you don't hate me now after reading that list. If you do, please see number eleven. (Please note: Also see number eight, as most of the list is dripping in that.)

4) Wow. I thought I had seven items... I'm running low here. Oh - my daughter brushed my teeth tonight. Using her toothbrush. Betcha didn't know that about me.

5) I love the phrase "I would know myself better if there weren't so many of me." Contradiction seems to permeate my life. How can you love your kids so much, yet run around the house whooping and yelling when Grandma Dee Dee says she's going to take them to her house overnight? How can you be a conservative Republican and yet feel your Christian values align more with liberal Democrats in helping the poor? How can you hate laundry so much, and yet still wear clothes every day? Contradictions: My Way Of Life.

6) If I could do anything (career-wise) I'd be a SAHM. I'd want a cook, maid and gardener of course, but I'd still be a SAHM. Oh, and if there is such a thing as a Professional Potty Trainer, I'd want one of them too.

7) I love that all of you take the time to read my blog. I really do. There is something satisfying in presenting the world with ideas and words, and then getting positive feedback from others. So, thanks. I appreciate you all very, very much.

Well, I guess that's it for this week! Thanks for making it all the way to the end with no pictures - my kids would have given up long ago. Until next week...

Guilt Be Gone

Disciplining my kids has got to be the most difficult parenting duty so far. Last year, I would have told you it was packing up and moving to a new house while nine months pregnant, with an 18 month old in tow. This year, it's dealing with the physical, mental and especially the emotional part of discipline.

I have a two year old. She likes to try all kinds of new things. She also likes to be defiant. It's not so much an in your face verbal rant (since she doesn't say much), it's a “look-you-straight-in-the-eye-and-do-exactly-what-you-just-told-me-not-to-do” kind of defiance.

My journey of learning to discipline has only just begun. Luckily, I feel I have some good resources to rely on, not the least of which is biblical examples. I admit my husband and I have high expectations of my children. Here are some examples of what we expect:

Our children should obey the first time we make a request.
Our children should not whine.
Our children should not cry in response to a request. (They can cry if disciplined, but not simply because they were told "no".)
Our children should be respectful towards themselves and others.

Did you make it this far without breaking into hysterical laughter? Good, because like most people who are still breathing, I realize that expectations and actual results are two completely different realities. I also believe that this is where many parents find their parenting style begins to diverge from others. This led to a parenting revelation for me, so I've decided to share what I learned.

Somehow, as parents we feel that when our children do not behave as they should, we have two options: lower our expectations or increase the discipline. Are these really our only options?

No matter what your method of choice (spanking, time-outs, yelling, etc.) a parent is the final decision maker when it comes to how and when to discipline their children. Here is an example: If I tell my child to pick up a toy, then she should do it. But when? Immediately? Before doing something else? After four warnings, counting to three, two yells, one threat and then grabbing her hand to place it on the toy in question?

I (or my husband) get to decide what is is acceptable for our family. I set the expectations for my children. I may not always succeed in reaching those expectations, but no one else is going to set them for me. And so, when disciplining, I have chosen to set the bar high. To be strict. To want what is best for my children, and to measure my expectations by biblical standards, not by what other parents are doing, or what other parents may find acceptable (or unacceptable).

I also get to exercise grace. I get to decide if my child is hungry, tired, over stimulated, confused, or just being a child - not being defiant. Strangers can look into my house and watch me discipline, and they can (and will) judge. Do you think I’m too strict? You don’t have to live through the heartbreak of watching my child make poor decisions because I wasn't strong enough to discipline them and teach them self control. Think I’m too lenient? You won’t live with the pain of a child who doesn't want to associate with you because absolute compliance was demanded at the expense of the relationship.

No one else has the same stake in my children's lives that I do. And no one knows that better than I.

Parenting isn't easy. Like most moms, I consult regularly with other parents to get ideas, track my child’s progress and generally make sure we’ve collectively lost our minds. This used to result in feelings of guilt if I felt I was harsher on my kids, or if my kids didn’t behave as well as the next. This year, I’ve finally allowed myself not to feel guilty about my parenting style.

One day you may think I'm being too easy on my child. You don't know that she woke up at 5am and has been fighting a cold. You may think I'm far too strict. You don't know that she did this exact same thing yesterday, and absolutely knows better. That's okay, it's not your job to know.

I love my kids and they love me. We have fun together. We laugh, play, joke and sometimes, we cry. It was the same way with my parents when I was growing up. When I was spanked as a child, occasionally my parents would tell me “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Now I’m the parent, and I know exactly what they meant. I’m grateful that they were willing to bear the heartache of discipline to help me become who I am today, and I hope their legacy of respect, discipline, and love continues on in my children.

If, like me, you sometimes struggle with whether you are doing things "right", I would encourage you not to measure your success against other children or families. Everyone has different standards and personalities. Rest easy in the fact that you love your children like no one else, and honestly do the best you can - even if it hurts a little.

Ease Into Exhaustion

Last night, I lay in bed thinking about exhaustion. No, the irony was not lost on me.

Thankfully, I got eight hours of sleep last night for the first time in about four weeks. I don’t have a newborn, I’m not working graveyard, and I’ve even been going to bed at a decent hour (well, most nights). I just can’t sleep. This got me to thinking about a time when I was really tired. No, I mean really, REALLY tired.

I’ve never trained for a marathon. I have friends that have trained and completed marathons. Apparently if you’re really hardcore, losing your toenails is not uncommon. After race day, you are supposed to rest for at least one day for every mile you run. Your body can get so depleted, that you need to rest for weeks in order to recover. In case I forgot to mention it, I have no intention of ever running a marathon.

I have watched a television show about Navy SEALS, and how they have to qualify in all sorts of grueling events before they can “join the team”. I distinctly remember the SEAL recruits having to lie on the sand at the edge of the ocean in freezing cold temperatures. The waves were crashing over the young men, clad only in cotton t-shirts and shorts. They hadn’t slept for almost 24 hours, they were battling hypothermia, and their instructors were yelling – and it wasn't words of encouragement. I remember sitting on my comfortable couch, covered in a warm blanket, eating from a bowl filled with ice cream dripping in chocolate sauce and thinking “I would never do that.”

A little less than a year later, my firstborn arrived. There’s nothing like a newborn to help introduce you to true sleep deprivation. If you happen to have one of those wonderful angel babies that slept constantly and barely woke you to eat, then I encourage you to have a newborn and a one year old that wakes up at 5:30 am. If you're really lucky, the one year old won’t fall asleep until 9 pm (thank heaven for baby jails cribs!) and only takes a two hour nap. Is this worse than your toenails falling off? Worse than a 24 hour torture session with icy salt water slapping your face every 5 seconds?

Um, maybe. There are some important distinctions that must be made from the above three scenarios. First, the marathon. When planning on running ridiculous distances for no logical reason (sometimes you even end up where you started!) you get to train. You start slowly and build up to levels your body can handle. Sure, you’re pushing yourself the entire time, but you get to go in incremental levels designed to keep your legs from falling off.

The Navy SEAL training? There are so many distinctions to make it’s almost impossible. First, all these guys had to do was say “Uncle” and they could be relieved of their pain. Yes, shame would follow in short order, but they still had a choice. Speaking of choice, they had all chosen this test of endurance because they wanted to be a part of an elite squadron who protects the lives of fellow Americans and keeps our country free. Quite a noble profession, and one which requires much hardening of the body and soul (people do shoot at you, after all).

Finally, the newborn. Yes, I know it was a choice. This doesn’t put it on the same level as the choice to become a Navy SEAL though. I didn’t sign up for this in the hopes of saving the world or risking life and limb for freedom. I just wanted my kids to draw pictures of our family, complete with a little house whose smoke producing chimney hints at the fire burning on the sunniest day you ever saw. (If you were inclined to check, I’m sure the A/C would be on and all the windows would be open too.) I wanted my son to bring me a wilted dandelion that I could proudly display on the dinner table. I wanted my daughter to go shopping with me. (And not lay down in the middle of an aisle because she "felt she needed a rest.”)

Marathon runners and SEALS get training. Moms? We might get an epidural and some ice chips. Almost half of us get major abdominal surgery and a notice from our insurance company. After hours of intense physical discomfort and the complete loss of any dignity we may have had, the closest a mom gets to training: feed your baby when she cries.

Yes. Great. Thanks for the tip.

In retrospect, getting up three times a night to empty the three teaspoons of pee from an incredibly full pregnancy bladder is a hint of what's to come. However, since you’re generally back in bed within five minutes and you know how to “use the potty”, it really doesn’t correspond to the forty-five minute middle of the night feedings and endless diaper changes.

The biggest difference? At some point, the marathon is over and the SEALS get to request a vacation. Or a sabbatical. Or whatever it is SEALS do after killing people. Moms – especially moms of newborns – don’t get to say “Uncle”. They can’t mark a date on their calendar and tell themselves that after that accomplishment, they can hang up their running shoes and bottle warmers and relax. Moms are on duty 24/7/365. Sleep exhaustion does subside (I’m told) but there is no moment in the future at which you can mark a calendar and say, "That’s it! I’ve done it! I’m all finished with that task, on to the next."

I’ve discussed this predicament with more than one mom along the way, and it will probably come as no surprise that every one of them told me: “Thinking back on all the sleepless nights, dirty diapers, loads of laundry, filthy floors, temper tantrums, and potty training – if I had to do it all over again, I’d be willing to do it twice.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Budget for some Soda

My sister is a bit of a health food fanatic. I'm more than a bit of a budget fanatic. Kim spends money on what she wants, when she wants. (She'll tell you that's not true, but ignore her. She's in denial.) I eat what I want, when I want. (I'll tell you that's not true, and I'd be right. I'm too cheap to actually buy what I want, unless it's on sale and I have a coupon.)

And so, when we went shopping together recently, our conversation inevitably turned toward our two passions. Cash and cola. Two years ago this month, my husband and I signed up for Financial Peace University, the Dave Ramsey course on how to manage your money. We'd always been good at managing our money, but the housing market crash served us a kick in the gut, as our mortgage was the only thing standing between me and staying home with my babies. We decided to get some serious advice, and make whatever tough decisions were necessary in order to meet our family values. The Dave Ramsey course saved our financial lives. So, like those in a lifeboat watching others on a sinking ship, we share our story with those who might be drowning.

My sister isn't drowning. She's on the deck of the Titanic... but instead of playing the somber violin as the ship goes down, she's two-stepping with her fingers flying across the fiddle. Granted, she is in a unique position. Her husband is in school, and in less than two years he'll be a doctor. That's when she'll really start to worry about money. "After all, it's hard to be worried about money when you don't have any." (Says her.)

Choosing a place for lunch was a compromise. I am on a very strict budget, and choose to spend my money in categories other than dining out... so I wanted fast food or low priced option. Kim didn't care what it cost, as long as it wasn't dripping in grease, served in a white carb wrapping, or have unpronouncable ingredients shortened into initials. We found ourselves at a bakery that served fresh sandwiches and salads, and Kim offered to pay for the meal. I told her I had budgeted for lunch (she loves when I say things like that) and despite her protests, I gave her five dollars from my wallet.

Over lunch, we discussed the health merits of her low carb lifestyle. As we sipped our water, we talked about our passions. My sister is very adamant that soda is terrible for you, and should be avoided at all costs. I drink a soda almost every day.

After lunch, we began looking for the perfect dress she needed for an upcoming function. As we walked through the mall, I found myself straying toward the altar of Saint Arbucks. I told my sister I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a coffee from Starbucks. She told me, "Go ahead, get one - I'll wait." Of course, I made my "budget face" and told her that I "couldn't afford it". I've been trying to get out of the habit of saying that, as we both knew very well that I could afford it. What I need to say is "I don't have the money... for that." She still encouraged me to get one, and even offered to pay for it.

"Kim!" I said, disgusted once again at her ability to spend money she doesn't have. "Would you stop it?"

"What?" she asked. "It's only a few bucks for a coffee. It's not a big deal!"

And that's when it clicked. It was a big deal. This is exactly what makes it so difficult for people in financial trouble to dig themselves out. "Kim, if I had told you that I wanted to buy a soda, would you have offered to pay for it?" "No!" she said. "Well, think of it like this: you see the value in making healthy food choices, and you certainly wouldn't encourage me to buy a soda. That's your passion. I feel just as strongly about us being responsible for our financial health as you do about us being responsible for our physical health."

I think a light came on for both of us in that moment. We each have a passion and we are willing to make sacrifices for it. She doesn't eat a lot of carbs, even though she enjoys them. I don't spend my money without a thoughtful plan for each dollar, even though it might be enjoyable.

We found the dress that we had been looking for (on clearance at half off!) and headed back to her house. We had a fantastic time talking, shopping, and just re-connecting. As I was leaving, my arms were filled with items to put in my car. She took that opportunity to tuck a note in my back pocket. "Kim!" I protested, "Did you just put that five dollars back in my pocket???" She smiled at me and said, "I love you. Now go buy yourself a soda."

A New Season

Many moms who are finished with the infant/toddler years like to tell those of us still struggling with them "Remember, this is only a season."  It is meant to be an encouragement; to help us refocus and remember that our kids will not be little forever. In fact, our kids will not be little for long at all.

Here's the problem: sometimes I don't want a season. I just want an episode. Then, a nice six day break until the next episode. Apparently when you sign up for motherhood, you don't get to check the episode box. You're only offered the full season package, and maybe a few grandparent breaks if your agent is good. And so, I am trying to remember that while dealing with whining, training, discipline, diapers, laundry, sippy cups and bottles, there are two little kids under all that dirt and rice cereal.

It's not really all that hard.

Today we were grocery shopping and out of nowhere Gracie reaches up and gives me a hug. When I leaned in a bit to hug her back, she got her arms all the way around and hugged me hard. I had to stop right in the middle of the aisle because I couldn't move my arms and was hunched over. I didn't mind stopping. I could hardly stop kissing the top of that little red head.

Yesterday Mark was babbling away to himself, and reminded me of when Gracie used to do the same thing. Back then I said to Robert, "I can't wait until she's talking. I wonder what she is trying to say!" Of course, now she is talking, and I still wonder what she is trying to say...

This week Grace has, on multiple occasions, shown love for her brother. She kisses him on the head. She says "Uh oh baby!" when he cries or gets stuck in his travels around the house. In the store today, I was feeding him a bottle as I was walking, and I had to pause to get something from a shelf. She turned in the cart to grab his bottle, and held it so he could finish. She brings him toys and covers him with blankets. She also hits him over the head with wooden blocks and kicks him if he gets too close to Tickle Me Elmo. We're working on that part.

Again I find myself trying to remember to enjoy my season with the kids. I'm not always successful - just ask Robert. Sometimes he comes home and I'm the one drinking from the sippy cup, looking for a blanket and babbling incoherently. No one in the early mom stages will tell you it's easy (unless their agent got them a nanny thrown in with the package) but we all feel it's worth it.

We all appreciate our children, I think sometimes we just wish they came more in episodes than seasons.

Are We There Yet?

"Are we there yet?"

Every year, my family would travel from Florida to California. My parents had gotten so good at it, we could make it in three days. We would stop only for fuel - food, bathrooms and any other necessary items were required to be handled during these stops. We were on a mission.

The trip always began in a rush of excitement, once the tears from leaving family had abated. We were on an adventure! Just the thought of a road trip was exciting and fun, regardless of our final destination. I would hold my arm out the window, fighting the wind as my hand bobbed up and down the invisible air "waves". My sister and I would see who could find all the letters of the alphabet in various signs or license plates. We would play Slug Bug. And fight.

After laying down in the back window, watching every driver who passed, we would eventually ask, "Are we there yet?" The thrill of the trip had turned to boredom, and the desire to move on to the next stage and start another adventure was just too much.

So here I am again, on a different kind of adventure. Parenthood. And it has me wondering... "Are we there yet?"

We have two beautiful children. "One of each" as people are so fond of pointing out. Two healthy, happy children who are a blessing to us. The best part? We're not outnumbered. Yet.

My husband and I talked about kids on our second date. There was never a question of if we wanted a family. Our only question was "How many?". We both agreed that the world was made for couples, and Robert didn't want to have three kids because he didn't like being the "middle child". That left the option of having two or four - six was just asking for trouble. After we married, we told friends and family we wanted four, but always with the disclaimer that we would have the first two and then decide if we could handle more.

So here we are. We have two. Are we there yet?

I don't know quite what I expected. Did I think the second child would be born and announce: "I am the last of the clan!". Or would he sit up in his crib and say "Look mom, I just wanted you to know there's lots more room in there... feel free to have a couple more."

I guess I thought that when my second child was born, I would just "know". Well, I don't.

I have a lot of uncertainty about whether we should add to the brood. We're not spring chickens: Robert is in his forties, and I'm going to be thirty-five this month. Two more kids means we may be retired before our children leave the house! (They do leave the house, right?) There's also the SAHM thing - one income means every child takes a little more away from the vacation fund, the clothing fund, and all the "fun" stuff you want to do with your children. But children bring their own contributions to a family. They add to the enjoyment of vacations, family outings, and all the things that truly matter in life.

You can see how good I am at arguing both sides of the coin. Mark is only six months old, and there's still time to decide. Unfortunately, there are no neon signs to point the way, and no one can make the decision for us.

Two years from now, I hope to look back on this post with a twinkle in my eye, knowing what the outcome was, and happy with the decision that we made. Until then, I'll be watching Mark's every move, in case he has a message for me about whether there should be a sibling in the works and just hasn't shared because he can't talk yet...

Don't Miss This

Reflecting on Grace's second birthday reminds me how quickly time really goes by. Her brother hit some milestones recently: he's teething, and eating solid food for the first time. Sometimes it seems Gracie accomplished those same milestones just weeks ago...

The day before Grace was born.
I was 41 weeks...

When I was pregnant with Grace, I tried to enjoy my pregnancy as much as I could. I loved to feel her move in my belly. Feeling your baby move is an experience women only get to enjoy for a few months out of their entire lives. I loved the idea that only she and I knew when she was awake, or when she had the hiccups. It was like a secret club, and I was the leader.

Despite the fatigue and unavoidable aches and pains that come with pregnancy, I had a really good experience. I still felt pretty much like myself, I was just able to see the bottom of my belly button for the first time.

I did tend to cry more easily. A lot of jokes are made about pregnant women suddenly bursting into tears while watching commercials. (My favorite is still the LifeSavers commercial with the son and father watching the sun go down.) I had my tearful t.v. moment just four months into my pregnancy with Grace. It wasn't a sappy Hallmark commercial, or even a family drama. It was... um, Celebrity Apprentice.

This was 2008, when Trace Adkins was up against Piers Morgan as a finalist. Trace sang "You're Gonna Miss This" on the finale. I was fine (okay, maybe a little teary) through most of the song, until the part about the plumber and his "babies". When Trace sang that line, I lost it. Burst into tears while my astonished husband looked on. I couldn't help it. My daughter was only four months in utero, and I was already imagining her thirty years old and on her own.

The chorus of this song goes through my head often as I watch my kids. I sing it when I am doing something typical and repetitive, like washing sippy cups for the thousandth time, or putting another onesie on the baby because he spit up on the one I changed just ten minutes ago.  The ups and downs of parenting can be challenging, but often it's the mundane that has me dreaming of a permanent vacation. There always seems to be a never ending supply of household chores and needy children.

My secret club has disbanded. Gracie and I no longer share the secret of hiccups, and Mark no longer kicks my ribs to let me know he's about to start a party. These memories remind me that they won't be little forever; the attitude I choose during the tough times can make all the difference. So I try to cherish. I savor the moments I can, and have an attitude of "This Too Shall  Pass" when changing yet another diaper. After just two years, I'm already looking back with nostalgia and I know: someday I'm going to miss this.

If you're in a location where you can use your sound, you can listen to Trace Adkins "You're Gonna Miss This" by clicking here:


If you're unable to play the song, here's the third line and the chorus that sent me over the edge...

Five years later there's a plumber, workin' on the water heater,
Dogs barkin', phones ringin', one kid's cryin', one kids screamin',
And she keeps apologizing, he says "They don't bother me.
I've got two babies of my own, one's thirty-six, one's twenty-three."

It's hard to believe, but

You're gonna miss this, You're gonna want this back

You're gonna wish these days, Hadn't gone by so fast

These are some good times, So take a good look around

You may not know it now, But you're gonna miss this

The First of Many

I have hundreds of blog posts written, but you'll never read them. You see, up until this moment, they've always been written in my head.

As a mother of two children under age two, I have lots of dialogues with myself; trying to have these conversations with my daughter just doesn't produce the results I was hoping for. Instead, I've become an expert at commenting on the state of the union within my own brain. It's only recently, after reading other blogs from moms (see my list) that I realized it might help to let a few of these random thoughts actually escape.

Welcome to a sneak peak at my home, and the craziness that comes with it. As I mentioned before I have two children. Grace is almost two, and is in the midst of being potty trained. There are LOTS of stories that come with that, but you'll have to wait for another day. Mark is almost four months, and seems to be an angel compared to his sister. Not that his sister is a terror - it's just that she's mobile. And almost two. Mark, on the other hand, just lays there and smiles at you from time to time. Oh sure, he fusses and cries, but somehow, chasing a two year old with a bare bottom and wild hair just seems so much more difficult...

I've recently discovered that reading other mom's experiences about the joys and trials of motherhood (especially the trials) somehow makes me feel better. It makes me feel that saying "And don't poop in the closet!" isn't actually as crazy as it sounds.

Oh, don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.

There are certain things that only a parent, and sometimes, only a mother, can understand. The problem is that mothers have a lot to do: cleaning, cooking, wiping bottoms and noses, kissing boo-boos, doing laundry (LOTS of laundry), policing brawls and maintaining our appearance. (Ha! I just put that last one in there to throw you off. You're still with me right?)

The chance to sit with another mom and say "Your kid does that too?" is simply a luxury we don't have. So blogs have become my outlet. My way of checking in with the other moms in the world and realizing that not only am I normal, but my kids are too. Who knew?

When you get a chance, check in from time to time. Maybe you'll find you're normal too. But no promises.