Dinner prep

Every once in a while, I like to give a little glimpse into the craziness of our house.  I love doing what I do, but there are times when it is just too much and a mommy needs to get out of the house. 

To babysit someone else's children.  (Yes, that's what I did. Now I realize why I was so very wrong to think that I'd have no problem being a mother for the first time because I'd done so much babysitting.  The two are not alike in the least. That was a piece of cake.  And there was wine.)

Here's how tonight's dinner preparation went:

I was using a meal that I had to add my own shrimp to, so it's basically just seasoning the shrimp and cooking it and then cooking the pasta that it gets served with.

I set the three boys up at the table with some new coloring books and new crayons, (well, Jack with a new doodle pad and sharpened pencil 'cause that's how he rolls), since the box for the meal says it takes about 15 minutes. Blarney is at the bark-her-ever-loving-head-off stage, so I have her gated in the (postage stamp-sized) kitchen with me.

The boys did their thing for about one minute. Then PJ wanted to show Jack how to play the box game (you know, finish the box by connecting the dots and put your initial inside. I just showed him that yesterday) well, Jack wouldn't let PJ use the pencil, there was yelling and hitting and finally Jack spit (!) on the book so I gave him a time out. He screamed "no!" and I gave him the option of a time out by itself or a time out with a spank. He opted for the first, but threw a toy across the room before he went to the time-out spot. That's an automatic smack on the hand for him today since that was his fifth toy throwing for the day, and he was warned. I'm sauteing shrimp and the water is boiling for the pasta, but I go over the gate, smack his hand, and Blarney grabs something off the counter. 

I come back, turn down the shrimp, add the pasta, get the papers from Blarney. She's looking for something else to get, so I squirt her with some water in a squirt bottle as I tell her no, then Thomas is trying to climb over the gate into the kitchen, so I squirt him with some water too, which sends him screaming (it was not my finest mommy moment, admittedly), then Thomas goes back to the table and falls off his bench. 

Over the gate again, kiss the booboo, back to drain the pasta quick so it doesn't overcook, bring Blarney outside. finish up with the shrimp, add the seasonings to the pasta, combine the two and Blarney is scratching the shizzle out of our screen door so I bring her back into the kitchen. Jack hits PJ with a plastic sword and PJ is screaming. I head back over the gate to separate and threaten the two of them with timeouts. 

Then I go back to kitchen to finish stirring, and Blarney has left a puddle on the floor. I pick her up to take her back out onto the deck - this time leaving the screen open and just closing the glass - and realize that she must have walked in it too because where her paws touched my teeshirt is soaked. I ran upstairs to change my shirt and come down to Blarney out on the deck barking, Thomas asking me to read him a book for the thirtieth time, and Jack and PJ seeing how far they can run and slide on their knees on the new laminate floor. I'm counting down the minutes until we're going to need stitches from that new game.

Dinner is ready, but now I'm sweating and exhausted. 

15 minutes my arse.

Wondering how long it will be before I'll have the time to cook something from scratch...

Pumpkin time

This is about how I've been feeling lately.  Just exhausted, drained (or draining, as the case may be), a bit googly-eyed, and hoping that all three of the boys will be able to make it through one night without one of them waking from a bad dream that involves being eaten by some animal - wild or domestic - sometime soon.  It's been a while since that's happened.

Then I remembered that trick-or-treating is tomorrow night, and that I haven't carved our pumpkins yet.  The thought of doing that tonight made me feel, well...

I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love carving a pumpkin.  I love thinking about a design and carrying it out.  I love putting the candle in and watching it glow in a darkened room and then outside at night. I don't even mind gutting a pumpkin, because then I can roast the yummy seeds and munch on them over the next day or two. Anyone who knows me can attest to this.

But it's the combination of multiple pumpkins and multiple little ones that I don't like.  Because we all know what happens when we sit down with three little kids to carve pumpkins.  They start out excited and interested, and then you give them a spoon and ask them to start scraping out the insides and soon they're throwing pumpkin guts everywhere and then they're off and playing with something else (and covering it with pumpkin guts) because that got boring really fast.  And while they love to tell you what face to make on theirs and to watch it glow once it's done, we all know who's doing all the work.  We are.

And I'm pooped.

So riddle me this:  

Who has two thumbs, speaks limited French, and totally cheated on the pumpkins this year?

This moi!

A few years ago, I'd have thought this was sacrilege.  

Who doesn't take the time to actually carve their pumpkins? 

What'd that take, like two minutes?
Come on, where is the challenge in that?  Where's the skill?

This year, I'd like to find the person - probably a mom - who invented these
and give her a big hug.

A new normal

It has been a week since the last post, and a lot has changed.

Our hearts have healed so much.  It's like God kept bringing the truth that He showed me back to mind and reminding me to keep an eternal perspective.  Our life is like a blip in light of eternity. 

Sure, we still cry.  I look at photos of Brigid every single day and long to be able to hold her again, to smell her smell and feel her soft skin and kiss her little head.  My heart hurts to think of the pain that her tiny body endured during her short life - needles and IVs and tubes in the throat and nose and a surgery and probably a hundred heel pricks to draw blood.  It's not supposed to be like that.  That's scary and painful and it makes me sad to think of her going through that alone.  It's supposed to be cuddles and warm milk and soft blankets and kisses.  That's what babies are usually greeted with shortly after they come screaming into this world.  But not our Brigid.  And yet, she hardly ever cried.  It was her normal.  It's all she knew.  I wish it could have been different.  But that wasn't God's plan, and I know her reward is great right now, and she is not feeling any discomfort at all.

And this week, I've been able to devote myself to the boys in a way I never have before.  It's the same amount of time with them that I've always had, but it's so much fuller now.  I appreciate it so much more.  I feel engaged with them in a way that I didn't before this experience.  PJ especially has been struggling with Brigid's death and having a hard time understanding what it means.  He has been fearful of being alone and clingy with me, probably because I've had to spend so much time away from him in the past few months - sometimes he'd wake up and I'd be in the hospital and I know that was scary for him, and I have to keep reassuring him that that time is over now and I'm not going away again. I think he's finally understanding that.  I love that I can devote my full attention to them right now, playing with them and being with them in a way that's not just being in the same room together doing our own things, but really doing what they want much of the time - being silly or building train tracks or reading books.  Paying attention to them.  Because that's what it's my privilege to do right now as I am able to stay home with them for these short and fleeting years until they're all in school. Patrick and and I both feel like we have so much more patience with them and we all feel that time together as a family is so much more meaningful because of the time we spent apart.

So that's our new normal.  It's funny that on the outside, it looks the same as the old normal.  We're all the same people.  But on the inside, we're all so different now.

And that's a good thing.

I'm so grateful for all the prayers and cards and kind wishes you've had for us.  I have no doubt that these prayers have helped to carry us through and bring peace and comfort to our hearts. 

Thank you!

Confessions of...a normal mommy

I am not a fan of Oprah Winfrey. She really gets on my nerves. (And honestly, I think she likes herself enough for the both of us, so it's okay.)

However, yesterday she did a great show that talked about the other side of motherhood.

You know, the side no one tells you about. The side where even though you knew it would be about sacrifice, you didn't realize how all-consuming this was going to be. The side where a little piece of you can understand how some mommies just "snap," getting in the car and driving away and never coming back. The side where you love being a Mommy but don't love "doing" it.

Yeah - it was about that.

You know, we mommies tend to beat ourselves up on a daily - if not hourly - basis. We have visions in our heads of clean homes with gourmet meals; sparkling, well-behaved kids; and ourselves in shape, looking good and feeling fulfilled.

Prior to becoming mommies, we held down good jobs with lots of responsibilities. We were detail-oriented. We had good work ethics. We were multitaskers. We met our deadlines. We were respected by our peers.

Surely, these same skills would carry over into motherhood, right?

I realized my first week home from the hospital with Jack that this was not the case.

Actually, that's not true. What I started feeling that first week was that I was failing at motherhood. Or rather "Motherhood," as I defined it (see above - the part about the gourmet meals and feeling fulfilled).

What I had was a child who cried for what seemed like five months straight and slept no more than one hour at a time. I was lucky if I showered a few times a week. I lived in a new neighborhood with no friends, it was winter time, and there were days when I imagined that getting hit by a bus might feel better than I was feeling.

If this was motherhood, I hated it.

Two and a half years (and another child) later, I'm just now realizing that my definition of Motherhood is just not realistic. I'm realizing that I'm being crushed under the weight of my own expectations for myself.

I've been a perfectionist all my life, but I've only just understood that motherhood and perfectionism do not mix. Don't believe me? Try to plan something - anything - with children. It doesn't matter how small or large a plan it is - potty training, getting to the bank by 10 a.m., taking a walk, having a play date with a neighbor, taking a few Easter pictures - it will rain, or someone will nap longer than you thought, or give you a hard time getting dressed, or be sick, or have a poopy diaper as you're walking out the door. There are too many variables, too many things over which I have no control. I've been trying to control them, though, and driving myself and my family crazy in the process.

See, perfectionism isn't about being perfect. I knew that, but now I understand that it is about is being hypercritical and judgmental, of myself and of the people around me. It's setting myself up to fail over and over again and then wondering why I'm miserable.

So now, in front of God and everyone, I can say my name is Eileen T. and I'm a recovering perfectionist.

I'm a normal mommy, and I'm doing a pretty good job.

I feel better already.

Life's a bench!

That phrase, uttered from Jack's mouth, is enough to throw Patrick and I into hysterics.


You see, we got a new bench for one side of our dining room table and, well, Jack's pronunciation of it makes it sound awfully similar to another "b" word (not "beach"). Being the exemplary parents we are, Patrick and I thought it would be funny to teach him to say this little phrase. Surely he'd say it a few times and then forget all about it.

Not.


It seems that our outbursts of laughter served to firmly embed the phrase into his little head so that now he doesn't even just refer to the bench as a bench. He says things like "I want to sit here on the life's a bench and eat my lunch." Then, if we don't respond because we're smothering our laughter trying not to encourage him, he says, "You guys need to laugh now."

Note to self: Don't teach your kids things you don't want them to repeat.

Again and again.

In front of company.

Duh.

What's that, Parenting 101? We must have skipped class that day.

Anyway, speaking of beaches, benches, and, well, the other thing, I thought I'd use this time to post some of the photos from our trip to Assateague a few weeks ago. It was rainy most of the time, but on the one sunny - but freezing - day, we ventured over to the island to see if we could find some horses.

Or are they ponies? Ponies, right? Gosh, where's Pioneer Woman when you need her?

Aside from a few that were waaaay out in a field, we only saw this one up close. He was really pretty - I love paint horses...er, ponies.


PJ nodded off in the car while we were driving around, so I stayed back with him while Jack and Patrick took a walk on the beach. I love watching Patrick and the boys together. They just adore him.

It was so windy that I have no idea what they were saying, but it was so cute to watch I just couldn't stop taking pictures.

I imagine one of these might find its way into a frame on Patrick's desk for Father's Day. He's the best Daddy!

Lots more posts to come!

Down time

It happens so infrequently, I almost didn't know what to do with my down time.

Nana and Pop Pop have had the boys since Wednesday morning. That's TWO NIGHTS of uninterrupted sleep for Yours Truly, and I'm feeling like a new woman. Yesterday, I had the whole day to myself and had so many things I wanted to do that I wasn't sure where to start.

Now, I'm so thankful for having had the time to relax and enjoy the Thomaslessness. For time alone with Patrick on our anniversary to remember why I married such an amazing man. For time to get a few things done around the house that have been hanging over my head.

But I'm also dying to kiss my boys again.

I needed that.

Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in the naps and the diaper changes and putting the Thomas track back together for the millionth time in a day that I forget to be grateful for them and the amazing little people that they are. They are precious gifts that God has blessed me with and entrusted to my care, and not burdens meant to force me into a life of monotony and exhaustion.

I think my take-home point from these past few days is that I need to take some more time for myself - even just a short walk in the morning - to refresh myself and renew the way I view my role as a mother.

This morning, I'm taking a bath (!), making my bed (!!), and hurrying to my parents' house to snuggle my sweet babies.

My Peej

This post is all about my little cuddlebug, PJ, who will be six months old on October 11.

(How did that happen?)

Take a look at this sweet face.

His eyes seem to be staying blue, and his hair is more blond than Jack's...and perhaps even a little reddish in the right light.

He totally has a sense of humor already, and is absolutely enthralled by his big brother (who is equally fond of him).

He looks a lot more like my side of the family than Jack does, and in this particular shot, looks exactly like my Dad.

His cheeks are perfectly edible, and I just can't help but kiss them all day long.

Every now and then, though, he has an expression that looks just like Jack. This is one of them.

Then, there's the "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis?" face.

(Oh, and PS, he's sitting up!)

He has the funniest belly laugh, and no one makes him laugh harder than his big brother.

(Yes, sometimes I do let my kid jump on the couch.)

I remember wondering, before he was born, how I was going to be able to love another baby as much as I love Jack.

But my Mom was right (she usually is, but don't tell her I said that), more love comes.

PJ, you've stolen my heart and I love being your Mommy!

One of those days

I took a shath this morning.

Or was it a bower?

You know - when you have a drain that drains so slowly you're not sure if you're taking a shower or a bath up to your ankles and you wonder, do you sit down in it to conserve water, or...?

Yeah, it's going to be one of those days.

And the way I see it, it's going to wind up being one of those weeks.

I know you guys have been really kind letting me go on and on about my sleep woes, but please let me just say it this once more: sleep deprivation SUCKS.

I'm not talking about getting up once or twice during the night.

I'm talking about eight or ten times. Or more.

I'm talking about being up for the day at 3:30 am because he wouldn't go back to sleep.

If we want to make sure we don't have another week like this, it is time to cry it out a little, people, and it's either us or him. (Him being PJ.)

And since we've been crying for about four of the last five months, we're going to let him have a turn.

Starting tonight.

God help us.

Giving it our all

There comes a time, in the post-baby sleep deprivation stage, when everything seems totally overwhelming and you don't know how on earth you're going to keep going.

That time was today.

At about 10:36 a.m.

In the parking lot of Wal-Mart.

After Jack's balloon popped. (It touched the hot car and it was all over. At least it didn't suffer.)

It was like, all of a sudden, I seriously understood how someone could say something as cheesy as "Stop the world, I want to get off." (Or in my Mom's case, "I'm not happy I'm here.")

You can imagine the onslaught of tears that the popping balloon brought. And these were real, honest-to-goodness, that-was-the-saddest-thing-that's-ever-happened-to-me tears. But coupled with PJ's teething cries, which had started a few minutes before, while we were checking out, I seriously did not have the patience for it. Nor the energy to take both boys back into the Wal-Mart for another orange balloon.

(Jack was very specific about orange, which happens to be my favorite color.)

So the three of us drove home in tears.

(Fortunately, Wal-Mart isn't very far.)

So I'm trying to figure out what's going on and I think I need a vacation. (Do stay-home moms get a vacation?) (Heck, do working moms get a vacation?)

And maybe a Benadryl.

Or possibly just two solid nights' sleep. (One just doesn't cut it.) (But don't get me wrong, I'd take one if you were offering it!)

In my frustration, I googled something about being overwhelmed with two children under two and came up with this blog post that I could have written word for word with name and gender changes for the children and a few spelling changes from what I'm assuming must be English English. (You know, things like "behaviour" and "favourite" and "Mum")

It made me feel better, somehow.

I'm glad people blog.

I'm also glad that I have the most supportive husband in the world. We're both giving 110% right now, and sometimes it still doesn't feel like it's enough.

But there's no one I'd rather be giving it my all with than him.

Right now, both boys are sleeping (in their own cribs!), Patrick's finishing up his workday, and I'm going to bed.

Before nine.

When I was a kid, that was punishment. Now, it's like it's my birthday.

How sad is that?

Tuesdays with Marmie

I know it's Wednesday, but yesterday was Tuesday and my Mom came over to help. Halleluia!

We've been barely making one foot in front of the other with PJ irritable and waking several times inexplicably at night, and an extra-rough weekend, sleepwise. Jack was a terrible sleeper as a baby, but at least I didn't have to keep up with a toddler during the day, too. PJ's been a gem so far, sleeping most nights from 8ish to 6ish with only one wakeup at 3 or so. But lately...not so much. He's up several times and very fidgety. We've decided all signs point to TEETHING!! Can you believe it? Already?! Poor kid. PJ will be 3 months this Friday, and I don't understand how that happened so fast!

So between bad sleep at night and keeping up with Jack during the day, I don't think I had done one of the chores on my chore chart for this week. Well, maybe one, but that's about it. No stickers for me. But my Mom came yesterday, helped me with laundry, stayed overnight and took care of PJ to give Patrick and me a full night's sleep, and watched the boys today while I cleaned bathrooms and vacuumed. It was amazing.

She offered to come every Tuesday for a few hours to give me time to run errands, get some cleaning done, rest a bit, or just do whatever I need to do. Does that not sound like a dream?

I remember having a few Mother's Helper sort of jobs as a younger babysitter (11 or 12ish), and I always hated those ones because the kids were always naughty while the parents were there and I felt awkward correcting them in front of their mother. This one time, both parents were home and wanted to paint or something on a Saturday afternoon, and the boy just kept jumping on the couches, pulling my hair and smacking the top of my head. I really just wanted to drop-kick him, but kept trying to get him to stop with "Now, Billy, that's not nice!" because his parents were in the next room. Do you think that stopped him? Nah.

Man, the things I did for $2 an hour...

I can't even pay that little emolument (today's word) for a warm body to watch TV and eat snacks in the living room while the boys are in bed for the night these days.

But now I totally understand the need for a mother's helper-type person. And the boys just love spending time with their Nana.

Don't you just totally appreciate your Mom more once you have kids? Both for the ways she can help now, and for all the things she did while raising you. It's been such an eye-opener for me.

So now, I have clean bathrooms, a full night's sleep under my belt, and a bottle of teething tablets. I'm ready to take on the world!

At least until next Tuesday...

Odd jobs

I started working when I was about 15 as a cashier at the local grocery store, and since I worked my way through college, often with two or three things going at a time, I've had a lot of jobs over the years.

Some of the stranger ones include: wading into wetlands for the EPA to determine their water quality by collecting the insects there, counting toothpick-sized transistors by the thousands while attached at the wrist to the metal shelving they were stored on lest they be destroyed by a static electric shock, and one four-hour shift at Chi-Chi's Mexican restaurant where I wore an outfit that looked quite a bit like this:

except for the headpiece and the tambourine, and substitute a solid, but just as vibrant, color for the stripes. I kid you not.

What's the strangest job you've ever had?

The number of jobs I've had makes for good work experience, but is not necessarily a good thing. I'm the kind of person who works at a job for a few months, starts getting frustrated by the monotony of it all, stays for a year - because, who quits a job after only a few months? -and then jumps ship. Until I started teaching, that is. Teaching was my niche. I never dreaded going to work, I felt totally fulfilled, and I loved that I got to meet a new group of students every year. This kept things interesting. It was never the same day twice.

With all this work experience, though, you'd think I'd be able to do something as simple as managing my own household, but I'm surprised to find that I'm having such a hard time doing it. I mean, I just made a list of things that need to be done each week and filled them in on a chart with blocks for each day. What is this, kindergarten? Why do I need to do that to get everything done? Laundry, groceries, bathrooms, vacuuming...I'm assigning these tasks to various days in hopes that I might find the time to get them done while the boys are napping or after they've gone to bed, because how can you clean out the fridge with a 19-month-old boy around? It's like my own little chore chart, but I don't get any stickers.

Maybe I should get stickers. Or jewelry. That might be the incentive needed to actually do the things I need to do.

Do you have a system to get things done around the house? Is Monday vacuum day? Does that question make you gasp because you can't believe I only assigned one day per week for vacuuming (and PS, that's because I really don't even do it that often and I need to start because I've seen some ants around and it's probably from all the crumbs)?

I'm looking forward to making a chore chart for Jack and PJ some day and being the giver, instead of the receiver, of the stickers.

Frumpy by Nature?

That would be a good band name for a bunch of new mommies who played music.

I'm trying to figure out whether a new mommy has to be frumpy. Seriously. I think it just comes with the territory, and I can't figure out how it can be otherwise. It's this transition time, wardrobe-wise, so there's not a lot of impetus to spend money on new clothing. We get by on stretchy sweats, since our recently-expanded hips and loose, sagging belly haven't yet returned to normal (whatever "normal" may be). Cheap tees that can be easily replaced are essentials - after all, they get spit up on and changed sometimes several times per day. The "ladies" are bigger, so button-down shirts don't really work well and the tees have to be long, or else it's like a stretch-mark peep show on your belly. Money is tight because there's a new person in the household, so an expensive transition wardrobe is out of the question. Hence, the frump.

How can a new mommy (who isn't one of those nauseating people who goes right back to normal immediately after giving birth) avoid the frump? Am I being too hard on myself or have I been letting myself go? What are my options? I mean, obviously getting back into shape will help things, but in the meantime, do I have to go to the grocery store looking like a character from My Name is Earl?

Seriously. I want to know your thoughts. I'm getting disgusted with myself.

Burn victim

And The Worst Mommy of the Year award goes to..... ME!

My eight-week-old son has, not just a sunburn, but the worst sunburn I have EVER seen.

We had a yard sale yesterday and although I kept him in the shade all day long, somehow he still got burned. Heck, it wasn't even all day long, just from 7am to 10:30am. In the SHADE! Maybe it was the haze? (What exactly is indirect sunlight, anyway?) After the yard sale, he was red. That was bad enough. I realized what happened and immediately started doing cold compresses and even put him in a lukewarm bath to stop the burning.

This morning, his eyes were swollen and his face was covered in a yellow ooze that means he must have developed blisters! What have I done? I'm a wreck. He looks horrible. There are just moments when you wonder what God was thinking entrusting this tiny person to your completely irresponsible hands. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

Yet even through those swollen, crusty eyes, he's still smiling and cooing as if nothing's wrong.

I put a call in to the doctor, bawling the whole time, and she wants to see him today. I'm sure emergency Sunday visits don't come cheap, but I'm so afraid he'll get an infection.

Let's hope he isn't scarred for life. Literally.

Sunblock, people! Sunblock. Every day.

Coming clean

Ok, not to be a downer, but in reading that last post, I realize that it sort of belies the fact that while Jack may be having a rip-roarin' good time around here, I've had some rough patches lately. I forgot about the ebb and flow of emotions that comes from post baby hormone changes and sleep deprivation.

Here are a few of the struggles that come from having two babies under the age of two:

• PJ is a much more mellow baby than Jack, and he sleeps a lot better, but he's still a baby. He's up a few times at night to eat, and lately it's been more frequent as he's had a growth spurt or something. Trying to keep up with an energetic 18-month-old boy on a broken night's sleep is exhausting.
• The aforementioned growth spurt PJ is going through has him wanting to eat every hour or two some days. I thought purple nurples was just an expression - a little hyperbole or poetic license. I was wrong; they can really be purple. Yowch!
• Jack has been waking up at the crack of dawn since his window faces due east and it starts getting light at 5 a.m. I finally tacked a blanket over his window until I can order a blackout curtain, so the last two nights have been a little better. For some reason, though, his naps have been awful those days. And our afternoon schedule goes like this: PJ naps until it's time to put Jack down, then he wakes up and needs to eat, and then just as he's finishing, I hear Jack crying in the monitor. That's zero minutes of downtime for moi.
• After a month-long teaser, DISH Network took Bravo away from me and my bottom-of-the-barrel basic subscription. I was totally into Top Chef Chicago and now I won't get to see the end of it! (Sorry, I know that has nothing to do with kids, but it just bugs me.)
• Trying to get dinner ready is a joke. It's PJ's time to cry - just because - and Jack's usually upset because we've just had to come in after being outside for a while. Usually a long while. I've been trying to do casseroles that I can work on little by little throughout the day and then just put in the oven a half hour or so before we eat...and I'm running out of ideas.
• Oh, and about being outside, PJ cries when we're out too long (for him, this means more than 15 minutes), and Jack cries when we come in. We can only go out while PJ's sleeping in his swing and I keep the window open to listen for him.
• While I waited months for Jack to say "Mama," and although I love that he calls me that, I do not love that he calls me that 100 times per waking hour from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.

And here are a few of the things that instantly make up for it:

• Here's an excerpt from an email my darling husband sent to me after an especially difficult day -

Going forward I think we need to adjust our schedules so that you can have an hour of down time each day. The routine this morning worked really well so I might suggest 6:30 to 7:30 as Mommy's Power Hour. You could go for a walk, soak in the tub or just stay in bed to catch up on sleep or read. What cha think? I know this is a very hard time and I can see how much you take on each day for us. I'm feeling the strain too but the bike rides are my outlet. I would love for you to have something similar. . . and some time to do it!

Is he the most amazing man or what? I love you, Patrick!

• Jack just started kissing me, of his own volition, three days ago. It's been an especially tough few days because Patrick's been out for meetings all afternoon and evening, leaving the dinner/bath/bedtime routine to me. Somehow, just when I need it, Jack will come up to me, say "Mama," pucker up, and lean his face towards mine.

And suddenly, it's all worth it.

A busy weekend

I'm a little bummed.

This weekend was PJ's baptism, and I just wasn't very good about taking pictures of everything. It was a bit of a whirlwind, as Patrick's family was in from out of town and here for about 24 hours total. They arrived Saturday afternoon, and we all went to Strasburg Railroad to see the steam engines. Jack and his cousin, RJ, are both into Thomas the Tank Engine, so they had a great time. They got to ride on a miniature train with their daddies.

I, of course, did not bring my camera to this outing, so there are no pictures to show you. (I didn't get off to a good start.) I'm a perfectionist extraordinaire - remember the sand in the water? - so this kind of thing really burns me up. I work hard and lose sleep trying to make sure that everything goes just right, and then when something happens like forgetting my camera - or I forget to even have us take one nice posed picture at the baptism - I seriously could cry. In fact, I usually do. I've spent most of my life calling this character trait "detail oriented" and pretending it's an asset, but I think in reality, it's more along the lines of "anal retentive" and is really a flaw. I'm learning something about myself that is not pleasant, and maybe God is trying to change me. Heck, He gave me two boys - there's just no way everything will go as perfectly as I plan when I have two energetic boys around. I think I need to learn how to be more flexible and go with the flow. I really would enjoy things like this so much more if I were less preoccupied with getting all the details right. It's not really "right" - it's only the way I want them. Anyway, enough armchair psychiatry.


When we came home from the railroad, Patrick made Chicago-style hotdogs for dinner, since his family is originally from Chicago. He ordered the dogs, the buns, and all the fixin's online in a kit from the Vienna beef website. Now, if you've never had a Chicago hotdog, buckle your seatbelt. The picture is almost disturbing.

See? I told you.

I'm a traditionalist. I had a hard enough time adjusting to the way New Englanders slice their hotdog buns (they cut it down the top - it's all wrong). But a Chicagoan? What the heck are they doing to that poor hotdog? First off, it's on a poppyseed bun. Poppyseed, people! Then, it's got yellow mustard, a kelly green sweet pickle relish, and onions (so far, I'm okay with the toppings, but here's where things just get weird), a dill pickle spear, two little "sport" peppers, two tomato wedges, and to top it all off, celery salt. What the WHAT?? Well, let's just say I stuck with the appetizers and crudite that night for dinner, but it put Patrick in his happy place, and I was so excited for him to be able to eat his favorite hotdogs.

PJ got to meet his Meme (pronounced mem-AY, but I can't figure out how to do a daggone accent aigu on this laptop). This is Patrick's Mom. He also met his Auntie Katie, Uncle Rob, Auntie Alyson, and cousins RJ and Sophie. I'm hoping some of this bunch will send me some pictures to post.

Anyway, here is Meme with PJ. The babies are always fascinated by her since she sings them fun songs.

The next morning was the baptism. PJ wore the same gown Jack did. This was originally my Dad's, and was also mine. Here are a few pictures of him in the gown that I took before we left for church, but unfortunately they're the only ones I have on my camera since I forgot to give it to someone during the ceremony.

We had a lovely party after church, which so many people helped me do. It really was just such a nice weekend.

In preparation for our guests, I planted some flowers outside and I think I found Jack's new favorite thing to do.

Every morning now, we fill up his little watering can and bring it outside so he can water the flowers for me. He doesn't even seem to notice the soggy socks!

Patrick took this picture Monday morning. I think you can tell that I've lost a little sleep in preparation for the weekend (and my arm looks a little like Carrie Heffernan's in the painting that Deacon and Kelly gave her and Doug), but really this is what it's all about. I'm hoping I can learn how to reel myself in and keep my focus where it should be - on enjoying the precious gift that is my family.

Snowballs, diaper gel, and animal sounds (Oh my!)

Today it snowed, our first genuine, honest-to-goodness snow. And while Jack's been plopped in a sled and pulled around the front lawn at his cousin's house, he's never really had the pleasure of walking around outside in the snow...until today. I took him outside before it started getting deep because the poor kid has no snow boots and that little gap between the tops of his socks and the bottoms of his pants just kept letting the snow in anyway. He was having so much fun, though, that I don't even think he noticed.

Here are some pictures of Jack and Mommy playing in the snow this afternoon:





It was good packing snow, and he could not have been more fascinated by the little snowballs we could make with it. He carried his walnut-sized snowball around proudly and must have held it up and said "BALL!" about 20 times. When it was time to come inside, he cried, but once I took his mittens off and he felt how cold the snowball was, he promptly ate it.

Then, after dinner, we decided the snow was deep enough to break out the little sled we got Jack for Christmas and pull him around the neighborhood. I thought he might have struggled to get out of it, but I don't think he's ever had more fun than he did sitting, wrapped in a blanket to cover that sock-to-pantleg gap (gosh that kid has long legs!) in that little sled. Of course, he wanted another snowball as soon as we got outside, so I made him a big one and he carried it in his lap the entire time. You can see it in every picture.

Then it was time to come back in - but what to do with the snowball? Jack would not let it go. We got him unbundled and I asked if he might like to bring the snowball with him when he took a bath! (Mean Mommy!) Jack was thrilled! Up we went to the bathroom and he held it, dripping, the entire time I got him undressed and ran the bath water. Then, in he went, the ball in both hands. He held it in his lap and watched as the water came out of the spigot - one of his favorite things. All the while, I was seeing the snowball getting smaller and smaller. I had no idea whether Jack was going to notice it shrinking, but I was pretty sure he was going to freak out once he noticed it was gone. Well, by the time it had melted completely, it was time to shut off the water. "Where's your snowball, Jack?" I asked him. He looked down at his empty hands, puzzled. with one of the funniest looks I've ever seen on his face. It was right there a minute ago! As he quickly looked around the tub to find it, I figured I'd better distract him, so I whipped out the rubber duck and started quacking like a madwoman. Crisis averted. Why do I torment my child so? Oh well, first thing tomorrow morning, we'll go outside and make another snowball.

No segues here. Have you ever had the pleasure of putting a diaper through the wash? Not a dirty one, thank God, but still...it ain't pretty. Jack's hamper is right at the end of his changing table and one must have fallen in with the clothes. Actually, two must have fallen in - as I was loading the laundry into the washer, I found one and grabbed it out, thinking "WHEW! That would have been ugly!" Yeah. I didn't check for more, and sure enough one exploded in there. Really, it wasn't terrible in the washer, but it was the DRYER that was really bad. Gobs and gobs of that gel stuff all over the place. Note to self - check clothes for diapers before washing. Or actually, brainiac, just move the hamper!

I leave you with this little video of Jack running through his repertoire of animal sounds...or as many as I could get in before he grabbed the camera from me. He doesn't bark for a dog, but pants instead - so enthusiastically that I sometimes fear he might hyperventilate. But his face is hilarious when he's doing it - brows furrowed, so intense. Anyway, enjoy!

Mommy Time

I'm crazy about my son. I really am! He is so funny, smart, silly, and cute that I honestly enjoy every minute with him. Yesterday, we went to the PA Farm Show in Harrisburg and he was in heaven. Room after room filled with rows and rows of cows, pigs, horses, goats, sheep, chickens and bunnies....it's a toddler's dream. He spent the whole time pointing and saying "BAAA!" "MOOOO!" and doing his funny snorting pig sound. There were loads of people and lots of kids, and being the social butterfly he is, he was just loving every minute of it. I love watching him take things in, piece things together, and figure things out. It was what I liked most about teaching back when I actually got paid to work...I loved seeing my students "get" what I was telling them - whether it was a French verb conjugation, a physics problem, or a biology concept.

Last night, though, was the first time I had Mommy Time in a while and it was wonderful. I got together with my friend, Emily, a former roommate from way back before we were married. I was giddy enough realizing that I didn't have to pack a diaper bag before I left the house, but to just sit and sip coffee, or in my case, caramel apple cider (yum!) and talk to another grownup about life was so refreshing! Of course, I can and do talk to Patrick about anything and everything, but it's nice to get together with a friend sometimes too. I strongly encourage any new mommies who haven't done this in a while to make the time to do it! I felt like a normal person again.

Anyway, that's all for today. Jack's getting his second molar and is doing such a great job of trying to be pleasant while really feeling uncomfortable that I just need to spend today squeezing him and being silly to help him get his little mind off that sharp thing just beginning to poke through his poor swollen gums. I keep trying to get a picture to post here of him dancing right now - too cute - but he's too fascinated by the camera. He hears the little noise it makes turning on and comes running over trying to grab it. Stinker. I'll have to sneak one in while he's playing with Patrick over the weekend.

Also, I'm 28 weeks pregnant today. How the heck did that happen?? It's going so fast! I can't wait to see this little one. I'm leaning towards boy because I feel like I'm carrying a lot like I did with Jack, even though I know that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I feel a little nervous and don't know what I'll do if I have a girl, but that's another post altogether....maybe more on that later.

TGIF!

I'm such a wuss.

Patrick had off from Christmas Eve to New Years Day and I'm thankful that it's Friday. I think I can get a little bit of slack from the fact that I am sick with what, apparently, is a doozy of a cold bug. Everyone who's had it says it lingers awhile. Cue the Cranberries....did you have to?

Anyway, perhaps the saddest part of all is that I think I've passed said bug onto my son. That kid has been healthy as a horse, save for a few ear infections resulting from excess teething snot. But today he woke up with a fever and a nose stuffed so full that he couldn't even breathe. Poor Boo. I suppose it could still be teething - he's working on his second molar - but the colors coming from his nose suggest otherwise. As I type, he's down for his second nap of the day...and I should be napping too except I'm wondering what I'm going to make for dinner tonight.

Is anyone else tired of coming up with meals? I'm definitely starting to get on a rotation and it's bugging me. Now that it's winter, we're doing chili, roast chicken, lasagna, maybe a potroast...all good stuff, but when it starts to repeat after a few weeks, I feel like I'm in a rut. If you have any quick-and-easies, I'd love to try them. It's the prep time that I don't really have too much of. I'd hoped to spend this Christmas break (well, Patrick's Christmas break) trying out some new recipes. Ha! I'd hoped to do a LOT of things this break, including de-cluttering, cleaning, and finally sorting the clothes out in Jack's room. Ok, there's another thing...

How do you keep up with the constant clothing rotation? Right now, in his drawers, Jack has summer stuff that fits now, fall/winter stuff that fits now, and both seasons' stuff that's too small. Some of it's his. Some of it's his cousin's. I swear I need a week just to wash and sort out clothes and label boxes and send back to NY the hand me downs. I can't imagine what this process is like for more than one child. Although - I guess I'd better get ready. They grow so quickly and the seasons change, and when the heck can you do it except when they're taking a nap...but oops! he's in there so I can't do anything then, and it's all just in piles in his room and my room and ... Calgon take me away! Please tell me I'm not the only one having a hard time with this.

It's times like these when I wish I were more anal. I went to college with a girl who was so organized it was nauseating. When she got married, I visited her house and she needed her husband to get something out of storage....so she pulled out the typed (TYPED!) list of bins and their contents and said "It's in Bin C in the attic". All I have to say is WHAT THE H-E-Double?? Do people really do that? At the time I just about choked on my drink imagining all the time and effort that went into even thinking of that system....but now I'm lucky if I have one bin in storage that's dedicated to just Christmas decorations - and can I find it again next year amidst all the other identical bins?

Ugh - I'm too tired to think about it. Maybe this is how nothing got done this Christmas break. Anyway, since I mentioned his cousin, I thought I'd attach a few pictures from our recent trip to visit cousin RJ, who is five months older than Jack. These two are so dang cute together.