I've long been a fan of swearing. It is just so cathartic for me. I've never understood why certain words are so much worse than others. If the intent is the same does it really make it any better if you substitute dang or fiddlesticks? Plus having a parent in the ministry I see a lot of ministers off duty and quite a few of them have used words I was surprised to hear so hopefully that means Jesus isn't too mad about it. I realized yesterday that I was positively giddy listening to an Insane Clown Posse song on a rare child free trip to the doctor it was so jam packed with profanity. It was like eating something that was too sweet. Of course we are trying our best to watch what we say these days. We have a little copy cat running around underfoot that is just dying to try out any new words she hears. And while I might not be able to help myself and laugh when she repeats something she "shouldn't" I doubt her preschool teacher one day will find it very amusing when parents are calling to complain that their little angels have come home with a whole new vocabulary courtesy of my daughter.
My daughter is about to straight up get on my nerves. Don't get me wrong, I still love her like a fat kid loves cake but she is in a downright difficult stage. Her waking time today has been spent more in tantrum mode than out of it. Everything in the world is out to frustrate her it seems. She doesn't understand why she can't have ice cream sandwiches for breakfast, but then again neither do I. She doesn't understand why I'd prefer she not get in the shower with me. And she definitely doesn't understand why I won't do her bidding instantly every second of the day. And by "doesn't understand" I mean her requests rapidly get louder and more panicked until she is outright wailing. Then after about 45 seconds of that she runs for her blankie and pitches herself on the floor. She even had a tantrum in her sleep this morning for crying out loud. After three or four minutes she eventually went back to sleep. I will definitely be glad when this stage is past us. Just in case I decided to take her to the mall and sneak away she wisely picked up saying "I wuff you mommy" in the last couple of days. The girl is good.
My family has had its share of drama. This one doesn't like that one and that one disapproves of this one and these two won't come to Thanksgiving if so and so is invited, yada yada yada. I've grown up with it and I'm just so used to it that any other way makes no sense. So I guess I'm what you might call experienced at this sort of thing. Everybody knows that where family is involved emotions run high. I don't even remember a time when I would have taken something someone told me as gospel without checking the facts and deciding for myself. That's how long ago it must have been. Even four year old me would have stepped back and said "woah woah, let me think this through" and figured out based on all the information I could get my preschooler hands on what must have happened rather than just saying "oh you're right and he's wrong? if you say so." Probably why I'm so jaded. It is always safer to get all sides of a story I've found because its a real bitch to blindly trust and then realize later you were taken for a ride by someone you loved. Then you feel not only betrayed but also stupid as hell for not thinking for yourself. Just sayin'
My little boy is growing up and I am so not ready for it. With the Weebles I didn't get terribly nostalgic over milestones. I was able to enjoy them as the new and exciting things that they are. But for some reason I am getting quite sad that my Peanut is not longer a tiny little thing. Maybe it is because I know they stay little such a short time. Before I know it he'll be walking and talking and counting and identifying triangles (seriously where did she learn that??) and the Weebles will be rolling her eyes and not speaking to me. The boy is very fond of his new "eating solids" skill set. He has enjoyed peas and winter squash with unbridled enthusiasm. I'm not one of those moms that discusses things in the *ahem* diaper department on a frequent basis. At least not unless I'm talking directly to another mom. Perhaps it is just another sign that my PP hormones are still totally whack that I am feeling blue about my baby's dirty diapers. He's definitely not a little newborn anymore. I'd better slow down and pay attention or he'll be all grown up on me. He's already gotten whining like a teenager down. Ehhhhh, uggggh, ehhheheheh.
Our doula told me in our childbirth classes that I shouldn't expect Andrew to mother the children the same way I do. She said to remember he's the dad and not the mom and to let him do things his way when he was taking care of the kids. I admit I was doubtful given that he put the clothes on backwards when I had him dress one of my childhood Cabbage Patch dolls. Twice. But her advice comes back to me from time to time when Andrew isn't doing things the way I would. Whether it's getting the Weeble totally wired with a game of puppet chase right before bed or not sticking to the routine 100% I try to remind myself not to get frustrated. As the kids' happy squeals bounce off the walls at 8 pm I know that they absolutely love every minute they get to spend with their dad. Minutes that aren't nearly plentiful enough given Andrew's long commute every day that keeps him away from home often over 10 hours a day. Even though I'm tired and want those kids inbedalready! I have to smile seeing how happy they are and thinking about how lucky they are to have him for a dad. I'm still not letting him take my babies in the ocean however...
Hittin' the road in a little bit. Headed to see the in laws. Love visiting but I'm not so keen on long car trips these days. What? With two under two? I cannot imagine why. The mountain of gear to be packed is unreal. Chairs, stroller, pack & play (only 1! my lovely in laws actually have a crib set up in our room. Did I mention I LOVE my in laws?), pump, bottles (just in case), baby food, toddler food, snacks for the ride, lovies, lovies, MORE lovies, movies, toys, blankets, towels, clothes.. the list is endless. Oh, and I guess I'd probably better throw a few things in a bag for myself...
We've always planned to move to Asheville. Every so often we talk about when we'll go. How it is all going to work, or not work as the case may be. My parents have known this plan all along, and while they haven't voiced a major opposition I know when the time comes they are going to be mighty upset. Not only to lose their tech support and fast food delivery person but to lose the ability to see their grandbabies on a daily basis. All other things being equal, I prefer Asheville to Hillsborough any day of the week and probably twice on Sundays since there are more churches to choose from. :) However, I just don't know how I'll ever get over the guilt of taking my children away from my mom. Plus there are a ton of benefits to living near them of course. I feel like I can call them any time of the day or night and expect them to be ready and willing to help out. They are my parents so I can feel that way. I love love LOVE my inlaws but it would be understandably different. I can't be quite the same level of brat with someone else's folks. I wouldn't always feel comfortable calling my mother in law and whining that I got no sleep and expect her to run over to entertain the kids for a bit... every single day. I wouldn't feel comfortable calling my father in law to complain that the lawn needed mowing and I didn't want Andrew to have to spend half our precious Saturday doing it and expect him to run over Friday morning and take care of it. So then we're back to square one. One thing is for sure, we're going tomorrow. If only for a visit.
I just haven't felt much like blogging lately. It seems that a lot of people go through phases like this and then get back into it so I'm not too worried. I don't feel like doing much of anything lately really so its no surprise. Just spending the days with my kids, playing blocks and trying in vain to convince my son that naps are cool. He's working on crawling so sleep really isn't a high priority to him right now. Takes away from time he could be doing things! Which is kind of what playing around on the internet is for me these days. Don't worry, I'll be back.
Seems that the hot topic of the day in mommyblog land is SAHM vs WAHM vs W..wait what the hell is the acronym for mom that works full time away from home? Anyway... it seems that the various sides are each feeling that they have the toughest time of it. It really boils down to your personality and what works for you. Personally I feel that it is very important to raise my own kids full time. I don't feel that it is right for someone else to be doing the legwork raising my children. I want to be here when they scrape their knee or when they wake up from a nightmare. I want to be here when my little boy finally gets the hang of crawling. Are there days that I wish I could just hand the responsibility off to someone else and not have to worry about it? Try every single day. If I were at the office every day would I miss my kids? Hell yes. It's damned if you do & damned if you don't syndrome. That's why ALL moms have the hardest jobs on the planet. If we stay at home with our kids then we easily feel isolated and stifled. If we work full time we feel guilty and miss our kids. If we try to do both and work from home, then we feel like we're not doing either particularly well. That's the beauty of being a mommyblogger. We can cheer each other on. All of us. Because really do any of us have it easy? Maybe if I had a full time nanny...
I made a very rare trip to the mall today with both kids. "The mall" meaning the big one thirty minutes away. The Weebles has outgrown her baby sized Anywhere Chair from Pottery Barn Kids that she has so coveted this last year. It's gone everywhere with us and is second only to her blankie in favorites. I am a big time internet shopper. I so prefer to sit at home and order items to be brought to me and left on my doorstep. This seems much easier until I realize that my garage is completely full of cardboard again and that I have to break it all down and recycle it. So I turned to PotteryBarnKids.com to order up a brand new chair in the bigger size. However, the shipping all together on the stupid thing came to nearly $50 and not even I am lazy enough to not at least try to drive over and pick it up myself for that much. However, in retrospect, that $50 would have been a savings compared to what I'm going to spend now. Everything in the store was the perfect size for a little toddler. She ran from one thing to another climbing up in a adirondack chair, checking out the miniature picnic table and benches, playing with the notmadeofcheapplastic kitchen stuff. Oh my hell. The stuff I wanted to buy. I couldn't mentally write it all down fast enough. Oddly enough the one thing she didn't seem interested in was the damn Anywhere Chair which I did manage to purchase even while chasing her from one end of the store to the other with her brother in tow. If anyone from Pottery Barn is interested in using me for advertisement by all means. I will gladly include the words Pottery Barn in every post for the rest of my blogging days if you'd like to hook me up.
I haven't had a good night's sleep in nearly three years. We're talking not more than four hours in a row and even that would be extremely rare. I discovered back when Andrew was in law school and I was working out every day and taking good care of myself that I really needed close to nine hours of sleep a night to function at my best. I honestly cannot imagine ever getting that much sleep again. During the two pregnancies I slept awful. Between having to get up to use the bathroom every 1-2 hours and the anxiety it's a wonder I had two healthy babies I slept so poorly. Both the kids nurse on demand. The Weebles still almost always wakes up once a night to nurse, sometimes not at all, but then again sometimes twice. The Peanut usually wakes me up around 1, 4 and then again at 6. He hadn't been going back to sleep after the 6 am wake up but now that he is in his own room I have been lying down on the couch with him and he'll sleep until almost 8. So if I add it up I usually sleep from 11-1, 1:30-3:30, 4:30-6, and then maybe from 6-7:30. So that is almost seven hours, but somehow broken up like that I just don't feel rested. I feel like I've been working all night, which in a way I guess I have. Does it ever get any easier? Since the Weebs is almost two I have to figure that factoring in the Peanut I'll be going at a pace similar to this for at least the next year and a half and by then there's a chance I'll be pregnant again. Sheesh. Caffeine please?
I always heard from my dad growing up that the craziest drivers on the road were in minivans. Of course, nobody else on the road knows how to drive but him so his complaints don't end there but that's a story for another day.. Now that I pilot a minivan and have cause to do so I not only have to agree with him but can also completely understand why. What could be distracting me behind the wheel? Well let's just review some of the things I've done while driving just in the last 24 hours or so. First off, I've driven erratic speeds. It's just as annoying to me as it is to those following me but I speed way up when my passengers are melting down and I want to get where we are going in a hurry! Then when I realize we just aren't going to get there fast enough I try to think of other ways to appease them. Snack? Toy? Pat on the head? So I slow down so that I can bend my right arm the opposite direction from how God intended it to go to hand over whatever I can find nearby to my tiny passengers. Just this morning I handed over the entire contents of a kids' meal including the cup of mandarin oranges. Be warned, don't go there. I now get the pleasure of trying to decide which I'd rather avoid more during their naptime, Jillian or cleaning orange syrup-y stuff off the car seat. Neither of which involve me sitting down twittering and reading blogs. So its really no wonder that minivan drivers aren't paying attention to the road. I really need a driver or another adult with me at all times so that one of us can focus on actually driving. But who am I kidding? If I had another adult to help me out I wouldn't use them for that purpose. I'd be letting them babysit while I took a nap myself.
My little peanut is five months old today. Five months that have been sharply divided between "oh my God I want to send this thing back where it came from" and pure bliss. After he got over his whole I Scream A Lot, Basically Whenever My Eyes are Open phase, he turned into the sweetest smiliest happy little guy I've ever met. And drooliest. My God the drool. He especially likes to stick his little fists in his mouth, get them good and drooly and them paw all over my shoulders and face. He also enjoys stuffing fistfuls of my newly cleaned and dried hair in his mouth leaving it goopy. I love how when he dozes off while nursing he'll have my cross pendant clenched in his tiny fist as if to say "you're not fooling me again woman, I'm holding onto you this time." Last night he started imitating the Weebles. She would yell really loud and then he would too, both of them laughing. He's now a champ in the exersaucer and the jumperoo, which gives us a whole new dimension of things to do during the day. He's getting his knees up under him now when he is on his belly and its starting to make me nervous. I'm not ready for him to go totally mobile. How on earth will I keep all the small choking hazards off the floor with a toddler running around dumping entire cups of fruit loops on the carpet? He's turned the corner and I can totally see my son the toddler instead of just my son the little baby. His room is all ready, we're just trying to decide what to do about a crib. Kick the Weebs out and give him that one? Buy a new one? Or just move the minicrib from our room upstairs. I am hopeful that his sleep will be even better once he's in a room of his own that is away from all the insanity that his sister blesses upon us. Speaking of his sister, I'd better go find her and get her down for her nap. She should be done eating her "nug-gucks" by now.
Last weekend my husband was out and about with this old ho. I don't know what the hell they were up to but I'm a little tired of it. It's been nine days now and still this ho is hanging around my backyard. Is it really so hard to put it back in the garage where he found it?
What's that? An "e" on the end? Well that could have been confusing...