Two months from right now

I will be on a plane, flying home from a weekend in Chicago with my girlfriends.

I will have said goodbye to a few best friends that I only see in person a couple times a year.  

It is truly a gift to know that when all the hustle and bustle of this joyous holiday season is over (and it has barely even started), and January comes with it's frigid cold and icy highways, and short, dark days, I will still have something truly wonderful to look forward to.

My husband, my children, the rest of my family, it almost goes without saying how thankful I am that they are in my life.  They ARE my life.  

These women, though, don't often get the credit they deserve.  They sit in the wings, sometimes we don't touch base as often as we should, sometimes we get wrapped up in our work, our families, our children, our homes, our "everyday".  

Sometimes it hurts when we don't find or make the time for each other.  Sometimes I really miss them.  

But always there is an unspoken forgiveness for those times when we let life get in the way of friendship.       

We come back to each other and it is as if no time has passed, yet there is so much to catch up on we're tripping over ourselves to get it all out.  

This group of women can talk about anything, everything, nothing.  But we will talk, and we will listen, and we will console and confide and empathize.  

And just as important, we will LAUGH.  

The kind of laughter that is good for the soul, belly laughs that make you catch your breath, maybe snort, maybe pee a little, depending on how many times you've given birth.  

I can't wait you guys.  

I'll see you in the new year. 

Bets, I'm expecting t-shirts, so don't disappoint me.

This is what it's come to

So it seems blogging every day leaves me with about, oh say 11 minutes of lazy me time at the end of each day.  On days that I want more than that, I'm up until somewhere between the 11:00 PM and 12:00 AM hour.  And that just is not smart.

Do you know what I hate?  I HATE that moment when both kids are all tucked into their beds, off in dreamland, and I walk into the kitchen and see this:

Ack.  I mean come on, we didn't even wipe up Louie's high chair after dinner an hour and a half ago.  Gross.

And honestly this is really tame, as far as messy kitchens go.  I mean we didn't even cook.  This is the result of a thrown together dinner of tortillas and cheese and deli meat and spinach, yogurt and black beans for Louie, raspberries out of the carton, baby carrots from a bag.

Yup.  That kind of dinner.

Dinner was thrown together late because Louie was being crabby for Dan after work and I had to stop at Costco on the way home from work for pies.  I have no desire to enter that establishment the day before Thanksgiving, so it had to happen tonight.  It was quite a bit less busy tonight than I thought it would be, but people were still really crabby.

What's that about people of Costco?  It is Thanksgiving!  Let us give thanks for what we have and be pleasant to our neighbors!

Yes, I'm in charge of pies for Thanksgiving with Dan's parents and this year I am not even attempting to bake them myself.  Maybe next year.

I'm not going to feel guilty about it either, because honestly, Costco makes some really freaking delicious pumpkin, apple, and pecan pie.  And it is quite likely they are much better than the pies I am able to produce.  They certainly look prettier.

I told Dan it will take me every ounce of self control I have to not cut into one of them tonight while I'm watching Parenthood and balling my eyes out, as I tend to do every week.

I love Parenthood so much.

And scene.

THAT is what you get on day 20 of blogging every single day.      

His or mine?

He's been doing it since he was an infant, using my hair as his lovey, clutching it while nursing, falling asleep with it between his fingers.  Then he became a toddler who climbed into my lap, clutching my bun with one arm and drinking his milk in the other when he needed comfort.

Now he's three, and he still wants the hair, still uses it for comfort, still leans into my shoulder clutching it as we read bedtime stories every night.  The only thing that has really changed is that he's much more articulate and specific about his wants.  

When I have my hair in a pony tail he demands that I make it a "big one", a "big ponytail mommy!", which means he wants a messy bun.  Ugh.  Okay dude, whatever.

Lately he has taken to proclaiming it "my ponytail!", and when I correct him, and say no, actually, that's mommy's hair, mommy's ponytail, he shakes his head and laughs.  

"No, it's MY ponytail."

Yup, trying to hold my hair while we attempt a family picture for Christmas cards.

He knows how much power he wields, a tiny little dictator he is, he so fiercely and sincerely believes something attached to my head is his own.

This is all so sweet and funny right?  One of those things that you write down in a kid's baby book so you can remember the details and twenty years from now when he brings home a girl to family dinner you can torture him with embarrassing stories.

Sweet and funny, sure. Also, sometimes (most times) it drives me INSANE.

Tonight I laid with him at bedtime and for a half hour he pulled and twisted and pinched and scraped my scalp with his nails that I JUST clipped this evening after his bath so how in the hell are they still so sharp?

ARGH.  I tell him he's hurting me, he needs to be more gentle.  Still.  He doesn't stop.  

I start manically rustling his own hair, twisting it between my fingers, being genuinely obnoxious.  "This is how it feels buddy, it is annoying and it hurts and we're both trying to sleep so you NEED TO STOP!"

Five minutes later it's the same story.  So I put a pillow between us and tell him he's no longer allowed to touch my head.  Touch your own hair.  Snuggle your Lightening McQueen pillow pet, for God's sake.  But STOP TOUCHING ME.

Well, that's a little harsh isn't it?

He drives me to my wit's end, to the point where I resemble a petulant child myself.

I'm seriously considering buying him a doll with long blonde hair.  I wonder if that would work?  It's a fine line between "being there" for him, snuggling, providing a means of comfort, and letting him physically abuse me all in the name of getting him to sleep.    

Today

We spent today at home, after a really busy and fun couple of days we welcomed the idea of hanging out in our pajamas well into the morning, reading the paper, drinking a pot of coffee, folding laundry, lots of thrilling stuff like that.  Not exactly blog-worthy material happening today.

I haven't resorted to this yet, but tonight, with the kids both in bed (at least for now) I really want to continue with the relaxing.  

So I'm going to let my Instagram feed do the talking, since there were no other pictures taken and I am struggling to find any worthwhile words.  

We did technically leave the house, and spent a lot of the morning in the backyard.

Wow.  I just can't believe how beautiful it was today, in the middle of November, the week before Thanksgiving.  I can feel the effects of the sun and fresh air almost immediately.  The warmth of the sun is rejuvinating, inspiring, it clears my head and helps me be more present with my kids.  We ran around like crazy in the backyard, there was chasing and screaming and laughing.  There were bubbles and slides and fleece jackets full of leaves and grass from the multiple tickle fights.

It was a good morning outside.

Louie LOVED it.  He crawled furiously all over the yard, chasing balls and getting dirty, and when I pushed him around in the little cozy coupe he squealed with delight and vroomed his lips.  I didn't know he did that, so funny.

The little guy really is always in pajamas.  Goodness, it is just so much easier, so much comfier, so much warmer for him to always be in footie pajamas.  No socks or shoes to worry about, no exposed skin to give him the chills.

Or I'm lazy.  That could be it too.

It's definitely a second-born thing.

After two days of Louie refusing to nurse, even at naptime, today was lovely.  We had a long nursing session at both naptimes after which he fell asleep in my arms.  

I didn't want to let him go.  Can you blame me?  Oh my, those cheeks and lips.  He is just so dreamy, and I will treasure and appreciate every single time he lets me nurse him to sleep because they're few and far between these days.  

Well, I guess that happens all the time in the middle of the night, but I am not in the mood to treasure the moment in the middle of the night, especially after the fourth or fifth wake-up.  

No, not even a little bit.  

Then I decided to make a pot of chili and invite my parents and brother and sister-in-law over for dinner.  A day spent at home goes from tolerable to lovely when you get to do some socializing.     

Today was a good day, and tomorrow is Monday.  Bring it.

Because that's what you do

When your friend sends you a somewhat desperate text at 3:00 in the afternoon on a Friday, NEEDING a break from her children or at least some adult interaction, you find a way to make it happen.

Tonight I snuck out of the house after putting Louie to sleep, stopping at the liquor store on the way for a couple bottles of wine.

Lisa brought cookies that she baked, very impressive.

While my friend's babies slept upstairs, we opened the bottle of red and we talked and talked and talked, put on a movie for background noise, talked some more.

And that's all it really takes right?

We made it happen.  Because that's what you do, and I'm so lucky to have these girlfriends in my life, not just the two I saw tonight, but the whole crew.

Anytime ladies.  I'll be there.  And I will always stop for wine.

Getting out

The thing about getting a babysitter when your baby is one of those babies that wakes up like every hour after going to sleep for the night, and is pretty much used to getting the comfort of his mother and her milk-makers at each and every one of those wake-ups is... well... it's sort of unnerving.

I feel bad unleashing that on someone else, so normally, I just don't.  We don't go out that often, and if we do, it's usually not a "we" and it's just a "me" and I don't feel bad about unleashing that on Dan because, well, he's the dad.  That's his job.  I don't feel guilt sharing parenting duties, even when we know they are going to suck more for him because he doesn't have these handy boobs of mine.

We went out tonight.  Dan's teenage sister and her friend watched the kids, and it went totally fine, but Louie definitely did wake up a few hours after going to bed (as expected) and Maria's poor friend ended up dealing with a pretty pissed off baby who spent an hour waking up screaming on and off seemingly just to torture her.  This was while Maria was upstairs laying with Gus to get him to go to sleep, her efforts foiled multiple times by the DAMN DOG going up and down the stairs like a crazed lunatic.

Ugh.  I feel bad unleashing this kind of stress on others.  Hopefully Maria hasn't been scared away for good, and if I'm looking on the bright side, if anything my children served as birth control tonight for two high school seniors?

This stage of life is hard.  There's just no break, even when you take a break.

People throw out "get a sitter!" all the time to stressed out and overwhelmed parents, but it's not that easy.  And while yeah, I think it's important to get away, I also think sometimes it's not worth it.  Sometimes it's too stressful.  Sometimes I'd just rather get the kids to bed early and sit on my couch and drink a beer and that be my "break".

Whatever.  We had a fine night out, saw the new Bond movie and I got to watch Daniel Craig strut around in tight pants on the big screen for two and a half hours.  But also?  I was engorged all night because Louie really is taking this "No I will not nurse at any point while the sun is out" thing seriously.  So I'm uncomfortable, and then also can't stop thinking about the whole situation.  I let down when the wind blows a certain way.  

Let it go, I tell myself.

Let it go!

But it's hard, this didn't happen with Gus, this is new.  I don't really know how to handle it and I feel like I'm a brand new mother again.  I try to tell myself that our nursing relationship isn't over, not by a long shot, since he still of course wants to nurse basically all night long, and I have plenty of breastmilk stored up in the freezer for during the day, but I just can't seem to be 100% objective about it.

Let it go.

Okay, this is a funny story though from tonight.  We were eating dinner at the lovely hour of 5:00, like all the cool kids.  We made a nice and simple dinner before going out, baked ziti, green beans, delicious crusty bread, and Gus WOULD NOT TOUCH IT.  Nothing.  He wouldn't eat anything.

And after multiple attempts to get down from the table we strapped him into his booster seat and that really mad him angry.  He was doing lots of screaming and looking around trying to think of what to grab from the table and throw.  Ugh.  Just, a ridiculous display of THREE.

We told him he didn't have to eat a thing, but he needed to sit at the table until we were done eating and he was not allowed to scream and throw things and generally be a jerk.

And then the truth came out.  He said, "I not eat spaghetti or green beans, I eat popsicles when Maria comes over."          

Of course.  He had a plan.

Dan and I looked at each other out of the corner of our eyes, stifling laughs.  

Then we said, "Well, we're going to tell Maria that you are not allowed to have a popsicle if you don't eat some of your dinner."

He remained unfazed, and just repeated his plan to eat when Maria gets here.  He was so matter of fact about it, like, duh, he'll eat popsicles, and there is absolutely no question that Maria will give them to him.

Oh Maria, the kid has got your number.  He may have all of our numbers, and we just don't know it yet.

THIS. IS. THREE.

Open invitation

On a whim we invited ourselves over to Dan's parents' house tonight, and while it wasn't our motive in asking, they graciously offered to cook us dinner, or, errr... go pick up incredibly delicious Chinese takeout.

And of course there was the usual wildness.

Thank goodness for the general craziness and company of family after a long and exhausting week.  

Reason # 67,364 why I love our nanny

Besides the fact that some days the boys are still sleeping when I leave for work (which makes for much more serene mornings for mama),

and that there has been a noticeable change (for the better) in Gus's behavior due to having more consistency and routine in his life,

and that we are forced to make sure our house is reasonably clean and tidy every single night which actually gives me so much peace in the mornings,

and that she organized our out-of-control sippy cup stash situation (!!!),

and that three days a week I don't have to unload the dishwasher (oh I DREAD that task) because she does it for us,

and that in hindsight the whole potty training process went so smoothly thanks in part to her,

and that Gus's independent play skills have improved by leaps and bounds since she started two months ago,

and of course the fact that the kids both really seem to love her.

BESIDES ALL THAT...

Our nanny is freaking awesome because

she does adorable holiday crafts with the kids!

I am sooooo not an arts and crafts kind of person, as much as I would like to be, but I simply cannot resist the whimsy and nostalgia that is a good homemade children's holiday craft project.

Oh for freaking cute.

Let's go SKIING!

Yesterday morning we woke up to itty-bitty amounts of snow on the ground, a tiny dusting really.  When Gus saw it out the window he immediately became frantic, got down from his seat at the breakfast table.

SNOW!  Look mama, it’s SNOWING!  Let’s go skiing!  Let’s go sledding!  I want to jump in it!  Quick, let’s go get our shoes on and go outside!

Later as we were walking into school (ECFE) he stopped to inspect every single little tiny patch of snow in the parking lot.  You could barely even call it snow at this point, just little sprinkles of white powder on the asphalt, here and there.  We were already late, of course, but no amount of my animated encouragement, “Hurry buddy let’s go quick so you have more time to play with your friends!” could take his attention away from the glorious SNOW!

I want to touch it! 

I want to jump in it!

I want to eat it!

I want to kick it!

At one point he tried to climb under a parked car to get at a patch of the good stuff.

When Dan got home from work at 4:00 PM the snow was still all he could talk about, even though by then if you looked outside it was as if it had never happened, you couldn't find one lingering trace of it out the window.

Daddy, did you see the snow?      

Let’s go get the sled and go sledding! 

We told him the snow was all gone and that yeah, that was a big bummer, but there would be more again someday soon, and hopefully it would be much deeper, and we would definitely play in it then. 

Yes, when there’s more snow we will go sledding, and we will go skiing, and we’ll get stuck in it, and we’ll make snowballs, and we’ll make a snowman, with a  carrot for the nose and a banana and arms and a hat…

Last year it snowed like, what? Twice all year?  Clearly he didn't forget..

Oh my goodness. 

This winter (or at least the winter before February when I start getting reeeeally sick of it) is going to be awesome.

I wish there was some way I could bottle up some of that kid’s enthusiasm.  

Big Brother

Louie is just enamored with his big brother.  He is loud, boisterous, hilarious, silly, busy, bossy, demanding, affectionate, and bursting at the seems with both good and bad ideas.

Louie would prefer that Gus with his bad ideas be around at all times.  When big brother is not in the room, little brother quickly gets bored with his dull mother or father.  

Really, I get it.  I can't get enough of this kid either.  

Sometimes the unconditional love that Louie displays for Gus is not reciprocated, and sometimes Gus would like some SPACE. 

In particular, when using the bathroom.  

I'd like Gus to have some space to do his business privately as well, especially when I'm trying to help him into or out of his pants and Louie is crawling all over both of us in one of our three tiny bathrooms, trying to stick his hands in the toilet.  

Give us some space Louie!  I mean seriously.

This morning Gus was doing his business and I kicked Louie out of the bathroom.  This did not please the little guy, but he patiently waited outside the door.

At one point, he got down on his belly, ear to the ground, trying to look under the door.  

I nearly died from the cuteness, and that is when I raced through the house looking for my camera or my phone.  He was done with that by the time I got back.  Darn. 

Still. 

I am loving watching these two be brothers, watching their relationship grown with each other, independent of Dan and I.  

Because if all goes as it should, they will be together to share in little and big events throughout their lives.  And they're going to be there for each other someday when we might not.

Brothers.  It's a beautiful thing.