First Day of Kindergarten

Let me tell you about our first day of drop-off at Kindergarten.

I feel like these pictures tell the story well.

1) The outfit.  James REFUSED to wear what I picked out for him today. He insisted on wearing this outfit so that people would know he's the big brother and not a little kid. Sure.

2) The blanket.  This blanket is his beloved. Don't even think about him sleeping without it.  He needed the blanket-comfort for the 5 minute ride to school. (The blanket stayed in the car, btw, it did NOT go into school.)

3) The forced smile, reddened eyes.  All summer long James was excited about kindergarten.  He talked about it almost every day. He couldn't wait to go. Now, the day of, and he most definitely did NOT want to go anymore.  The idea was nice, but the reality?  No bueno.

He was tearful most of the way to school.

"I don't wanna go."

"I miss memaw."

"I don't want to go without you guys (mom and dad)."

Due to all his summer excitement and anticipation of this day, I figured he would be fine (no tears) and I would be a mess (lots of tears) at drop-off.  The fact that he cried all the way there made it way, way, way harder for me.  I held it together as we parked and walked in together.  The parking lot was nuts, for the record. The closer we got to his classroom, the more composed James became and the harder time maintaining composure I had.  He went right in the classroom, found his seat with the teachers help and sat down.  His kind teacher invited me in, but I didn't go in the room.  In every piece of pre-kindergarten communication from the school they stressed the need for QUICK GOODBYES on the first day.  Don't linger, they said. So. I didn't.  I paused for a moment to see if he would look back so I could wave, but he didn't. I hurried away and fought (unsuccessfully) tears as I walked out of the building.  I had passed other moms on the way in that looked like I felt, a blubbery mess.

It is HARD to take your first born to school!  And leave them there ALL DAY.  For the first time, today, I've suddenly become a fan of homeschooling... (Lest I alienate the homeschooling community: I'm fine with other people homeschooling, just never considered it for my children.)

Stay tuned for the afternoon report from James about how the day went!

AFTERNOON UPDATE:

After a quite sizable car pool line, I picked up James after school.  His teacher put him in the car and said he had a great day.  She said he did fine, no tears, up until recess when he had a little emotional moment. She said it was brief and he was fine after that.

James was all smiles as he got in the car.  He reported more of the same, that he had a good day and that he only cried a little bit. And that it was too hot outside at recess. And that the teacher was "happy at him." (translation: nice to him?? happy WITH him??) And he ate some of his lunch, but not all of it.  And he didn't sleep at rest time.

I feel...relieved. He sounds like he had a good day and that going back tomorrow won't be the worst that's ever happened to him. For now, I'm glad he's home!

Ok To Wake!

If there are small humans in your house that get out of the bed crazy early and come into YOUR room, waking you up, this genius invention may be for you...

A few weeks ago, I bought James an "Ok to Wake" clock off of Amazon.

The idea is that the parent sets what time it is okay for the kiddo to get out of bed.  When the clock reaches that time, it turns green.  You teach your child that green means go!  Before it is time to wake up, the clock is yellow:

When it's okay to get out of bed (or leave the room), it turns green:

Prior to bringing this lovely invention into our home, James' wake up times kept getting earlier and earlier.  He used to wake up around 7:30 am.  PERFECTLY reasonable.  Then it was 7 am (quasi reasonable), then 6:30 (too early), and when he came in our room a few mornings at 6:10 am (FOR THE LOVE...), we decided to do something about it, before it moved into the five o'clock hour (insanely early).

After researching options like this, ordering it online and waiting for it to arrive, I gave James the clock as a present.  He loved it.  He carried it around all that day.  We talked about how the clock was yellow, but in the morning, before he gets out of bed, he has to wait for it to turn green.  I set the clock time to show him the yellow vs green colors.  (we're still learning colors)  That first night, I reiterated the instructions.  The next morning, I was eager to see what happened.  Of course, at 6 something, he comes barging in to our room, carrying his new clock-best-friend.  I asked him if it was green yet (it was not).  I gently reminded him that he needed to go back in his room until it turned green.  He hung his head, so very sad, and went back to his room.  You should've heard the excitement in his voice when it did turn green.  He busted out of his room saying "It's green! It's green!"  

The next morning, he stayed in his room until it turned green.  I would say MOST mornings since then (almost a month now), he has waited for it to be green.  I set it for 7:10 am.  I realize he isn't necessarily sleeping until 7:10 am, but at least the rest of the household can get a few more minutes of sleep while he waits for "green means go."  

This clock also has a nap timer on it.  Every day at nap time, I set the nap timer for 2 hours.  He needs to sleep/stay in his room until it turns green (after 2 hours).  Sometimes he takes a while to fall asleep and then sleeps right through the green time.  After a set amount of time, it turns back to yellow.  You can adjust this time.  I make it stay green for an hour, just in case he sleeps for a while.  I like those features, both the nap timer feature and that I can tell it how long to stay green.

Why I think this works for us:

-James is 3 years old (almost 3.5).  If he was a two year old (like Reese), I don't know if this would work or not.  Reese is still in a crib, though, so no leaving the room unassisted for her...yet.

-His personality works with this.  Some kids are going to do what they want to do, no matter what. 

-He is not night-time potty trained yet.  He still sleeps in a diaper.  If you have a child who leaves the room to go potty at night or early in the morning, I don't know if this would work for you. 

This gadget has allowed Scott, Reese, and I to get a little more sleep, which really benefits the whole family. :)

Have you found a gadget or some technology that has improved your quality of life??

**This is not a sponsored post.  I purchased this clock.  It was not provided for me to review.  All opinions are my own.**

God Made Dirt and Dirt Don't Hurt

I better believe that saying...at least after yesterday...

James, Reese, and I were moseying around the backyard yesterday seeing what there was to be seen.  As we strolled around the trees, we noticed a plethora of these creepy creatures:

from http://www.flightsofwhimsy-ece.com/2012/12/summer-and-cicadas/

There were at least five of these empty shells on each tree trunk.  We walked around each tree and brushed them onto the ground.  If I had to name that game, I'd call it "flick it" or something, because that's what we did.  Keep in mind, I never touched one of these suckers.  Not once.  James was carrying a toy with him.  He used said toy to flick the cicada shells to the ground.  So James never touched one either.  Reese, however, is a different story.  She boldly grabbed them with her bare hands.  Ew ew ew.  If we were keeping score in our game of Flick It, she would've definitely won for the most cicadas flicked.

She is woman hear her ROAR. This picture isn't from yesterday, but it shows her personality well...

After that game ended and all the trees were ridded of their ghostly  freeloaders, we moved on to attempting to weed one of our flower beds.  I put on gloves.  James put on gloves, but didn't touch the dirt.  He just wandered around the yard marveling at his gloved hands.  Reese opted out of gloves and dove hands first into the dirt.  Raise your hand if you're surprised.

I made a little bit of progress.  Not a lot, but a little...

See how there is WAY MORE grass/weeds/green stuff on the left, inside the "flower bed" than there is on the "grass" side, on the right??  It's shameful, really.  What can I say...I'm not a yard work person.  As if I need to tell you that after sharing that photo...

I would've made more progress (possibly) except for how helpful Reese was.  As I was bent over pulling weeds, she managed to get a handful of dirt projectiled through the air in the exact right fashion that a whole lot of it ended up in my below-the-belt undergarments.  NOT COOL Reese, NOT COOL.  I reprimanded her for throwing dirt and continued on my quest.  I figured I could handle a little dirt in some awkward places.  That's what showers are for.

A few moments later, having not heeded my stern instruction, Reese launched another fistful of dirt at me, this time it hit my head and upper body, a fair amount miraculously ending up in my above-the-belt undergarments.  This was the last straw for me.  Apparently having dirt in my underwear was okay, but DIRT IN MY BRA and in my hair was just too much.  I fussed at her again and dragged all of us inside for baths/showers.  James looked confused, appropriately so, since he was the only clean one of us at that point.  

I share this story so that years from now, when Reese wants my help raising a mess-loving daughter of her own, I can point her back to her own childhood and snicker, just like my mom is doing now...

Just Another Day

As I sit here typing, my skirt is half damp, half dry.  My kids are talking to themselves in their beds, hopefully heading to sleep soon.  And I'm trying to remember to laugh at myself (and my life).

Let's back up...

Sometime in May, I think it was, I received a work email stating the need for me to make an appointment with Employee Health to have blood work drawn by August 28th.  Maybe your work health insurance is similar?  If you jump through some extra hoops, you get a major discount on your insurance.  For me that discount is $30/pay period, or $780/year.  I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do with that money than give it to my health insurance company.  Keep that figure in mind...$780.  One of the hoops is having blood work done through Employee Health.  In May I thought "Oooooh I have plenty of time to get that appointment done before August 28th!"

You can guess where this is going.

August comes and I haven't made that appointment yet.  Last Friday (August15th), I got another work email stating that day was the last day to make these type appointments for blood work at Employee Health.  I immediately called them.  It was 5:02 pm.  The vmail message I reached said they closed at 5:00 pm.

Dangitall.

I left a message anyway.  Over the weekend, I emailed a lady in Employee Health as well, hoping for the best.  (skipping a few parts of the story here for brevity's sake)  Appointment lady emails me back and says be there at 9:30 am on 8/20.  They will try to work me in around other peoples' appointments.  (translation: be prepared to wait)  But hey, woohoo!  I have an appointment!  $780 Here I come!

I decided to take my kids with me.  Not because I love sitting in waiting rooms with a 3 year old and a 1 year old, but because my parents have already done a LOT of babysitting this week and I thought they could use a break.

Also of note, I have to fast for this appointment.  No breffiss for me.  Bummer.

This morning (appointment day!) I got up, dressed and got the kids up and dressed and fed.  I packed a to-do bag with some toys, my ipad, a couple of diapers, and an almost empty container of wipes. I don't know for sure if they were done eating or not when I plucked them from their chairs and tossed them into their car seats.  Off to the appointment we go!

9:19 am we pull into the parking garage.  9:20 am, while making our way to a parking spot on the 3rd floor, I hear Reese throw up.

WOMP WOMP WAAAAAAHHHHHMP.

"Mess! Mess!" Reese squeals. "Where's Reesey's bucket?  Where's Reesey's bucket?" James exclaims.  (I give him a bucket to throw up in when he gets sick.)  Since Reese is rear-facing still, I can't see the mess, but I can imagine I'm about to have SO.MUCH.FUN. when we pull in to park.

I wanted to just turn around and go home.  Forget the appointment.  Forget the 10 people I'd bothered (part of the story I skipped) to make this appointment happen today.  Forget the $780.

But I couldn't.

I was determined to make it.  I'M GOING TO GET MY BLOOD DRAWN TODAY DANG IT.  (perhaps I was hangry?!)

After parking, I grabbed my meager stash of wipes and head to Reese's side of the car to assess the damage.  She holds her hands up "Mess."  I said "Yep, you're a mess.  We'll fix it."  To keep you from throwing up as well, let's just say the volume of material on her wasn't so terrible.  Her shirt was soaked, but the entire car seat wasn't, thankfully.  The content of the material?  Bacon.  So much bacon.  I wiped up what I could, using up all my wipes.  I prayed nobody would poop during the next little while.  I put Reese in a stroller, hoping to minimize her interaction with anyone else and contain her messy self.

About that time, a coworker (#1) walks by and says hello.  I immediately told her Reese threw up so she could keep her distance.  She told me Employee Health was a zoo right now, so best of luck to me.  Oh yay.  Fun fun times.

With my sights set on $780, I walked towards the building, one hand holding James' hand, the other trying to drive the stroller while holding a wadded up pile of bacon vomit wipes, eyes peeled for a garbage can.

Found a garbage can, and proceeded on to Employee Health.  I don't even know what time it was at that point.  To be sure it was after 9:30...

Trying to open the door to Employee Health was challenging because of a) the stroller I was pushing and b) the crowd of people inside the waiting area.  Holy Moly.  Here comes me, my faintly-bacon-smelling stroller child, James and I...hoping to find a spot in the waiting room.  At this point I was reeeally hoping a lot of things:

1) Reese doesn't throw up again.

2) Reese isn't really sick, but maybe just car sick, so I'm not exposing everyone to some vomit bug, because $780 or not, that's just RUDE to everyone around me.

3) That we aren't in this place for hours and hours waiting.

4)  That nobody notices the bacon smell.

In the first 20 minutes, Reese has asked to get down 50 times and I've gone through all the toys I brought in our bag.  I busted out the ipad for them to watch a show.  Two seconds after their show started, they call my name as well as three other names.  They took us down the hall to another waiting area.  At least there were less people in the next room.  We waited maybe 15 more minutes before they called my name.  The appointment lasted 10 minutes or so.  I got weighed (yay!  who doesn't love getting weighed!), blood pressure taken (114/64...hypertensive for me...I blame my stressful morning), and blood drawn, all with Reese and James watching attentively.  I think James (and his constant motion) made the lab tech nervous.  She got him a chair to sit in, probably hoping that would keep him somewhat contained.  I agreed with whatever she wanted to do.  The last thing you want is a nervous lab tech right before they stick a needle in your arm...

On our way out of the waiting room, we bumped into coworker #2.  She was super sweet to my kids.  I didn't want to announce to her (and the rest of the room) that Reese had thrown up and probably she didn't want to touch her.  Thankfully she just patted her head.  That was probably safe.

We scurried back to the car to make our way back home where there's a bathtub and cleaning supplies and clean clothes for Reese.

At home, I fed them a quick snack and put them in the tub.  They proceeded to have an absolute blast splashing each other.  They made the biggest bath-mess I've ever witnessed in their short lives.  The kinda mess where there seems to be as much water IN the bath as out of it and the tile bathroom floor is down right treacherous to walk on.  This is where my drenched skirt came from.  It was collateral damage.

Now they are in their beds...hopefully asleep by now...  I've disassembled Reese's car seat to wash the cover.  Hoping there's no more vomitousness in my immediate future...

After all this, I better have met the criteria for the $780!!

Parenting is Tricksy

We have a freshly turned three year old son.  Based on his words and actions, he thinks the world is here to serve him and fulfill his every need and whim.

This has GOT to change.  With a quickness.  Before his sister gets the same idea.

The parenting game is changing.  It's less about keeping the child alive and more about shaping this little human into someone compatible with other humans.  Hoooboy.  I know people say things like "Just when you think you've got it all figured out, the rules change!"  Let's be clear.  I don't think I have it all figured out.  In fact, I'm positive I do not.  Every day when I learn something new, I'm usually learning a new thing I didn't know I didn't know.  If that makes any sense.  So for the rules to change in this parenting game which I'm still a novice at, seems unfair.  I shouldn't have to move up in difficulty levels, like a video game, until I've mastered this level, right??

-----------
TANGENT:  Tonight I felt like I was living in a video game. Probably Zelda.  I was trying to kill a fly with a fly swatter.  That stupid fly would not die.  I made contact with it at LEAST four times, with no success.  The thought went through my head: "This is like one of the bad guys on Zelda when you're getting to the end of the game and they take forever to die.  That was this fly.  He took SEVERAL of my Zelda hearts away and he still didn't die.  Dangitall.  Meanwhile James is at the dinner table saying "Getchoo fly!  Momma getchoo fly!  'Ere it comes!"  That's better than Zelda.  I don't think they have cheering sections...
------------

Anyhoo...back to parenthood...  I want to raise responsible, highly functioning, positive contributors to society that possess discipline and integrity.  I have some of those attributes.  I'm a very responsible person.  I have integrity.  I am not the most disciplined of individuals.  I dabble in discipline-ville.  I do not live there.  People say more is "caught than taught" when it comes to kids.  They will do what you DO more than they will do what you SAY.  This concerns me on the discipline-front.  Not too sure they can catch intermittent discipline.  And actually, now that I think about it, if it's intermittent, it probably isn't discipline.

Aw dang.

Those of you older, wiser, more experienced, or younger, green and more vocal and opinionated, what say ye??

Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope...

Sir James and I, his servant

Two Kids

Do you have more than one kiddo?  How did that transition go for you?  How far apart were they?  How did you think it would go compared to how it really did go?

I'd like to tell you that this picture below is how it goes all of the time...  So sweet...together...

But the reality is something more like this...

Photobomb!  

James was 17 months old when Reese was born.  That was super fun.  He was pretty non-verbal at the time, unable to communicate much other than his displeasure about the new lack of space on my lap due  to the frequently-nursing Reese.  His tantrums and whining seemed worse to me after she arrived.  Hard to say if that was because of Reese's arrival, or just because he was 17 months old.  Or did it only  seem worse, but in reality had not changed much?  (Because I rarely slept more than 1-2 hours at a time and so my tolerance for such nonsense reduced dramatically.)  We'll never really know the true cause, folks.

Having a 17 month old and a newborn was fairly ugly.  I expected it to be ugly.  It was indeed as I expected it to be.  I was told that I would expect so much more out of James since he was the "older" child now.  That compared to Reese, he should know better about a variety of things (feeding abilities, behavior, life in general).  Since I was warned about inadvertently raising my expectations of him, I made a conscious effort to not expect him to suddenly act older than he was.  I did, however, expect him to continue to act how he used to act (reasonable with occasional flip-out sessions).  What actually happened was that he went backwards a little bit.  Flip-outs became more regular, reasonable behavior became a little less regular.  No shocker there.  His world was rocked.  He had to express it somehow.  If I had to go back and tell myself some advice, I would tell me to lower my expectations of James.  Allow him some space to regress a little and have less patience, problem solving skills and comprehension than he demonstrated pre-baby sister.

Three months into the gig, however, life was much more glorious.  Having a 20 month old and a 3 month old was tolerable.  Reese wasn't sleeping through the night yet, but she slept more than she used to.  James had adjusted a little and seemed less bothered by her in his behavior.  I could finally hold his hand while he went up stairs and have Reese in my arms.  I didn't have to carry them both upstairs.

Side note about his behavior:  James didn't really act out TOWARDS Reese, for which I was really grateful.  He was overall disinterested in her.  He didn't try to hit her with things or drive over her with his ridey toys.  He mostly ignored her.  I realized later what a blessing in disguise that was.  Other moms told me thrilling stories of their young toddlers feeding their newborns choking-hazard foods/toys or smothering them with "love" and kisses and hugs and slobber (read: cooties).  I was then grateful that he pretty much left her alone.  His "bad" behavior involved flopping around on the floor wailing, harming only himself (and maybe my ears).

It has only gotten better as each of the munchkins have gotten older.  I keep both of them locked safely secured in their high chairs during meal times.  This keeps them a) away from each other and b) out of my way while I cook.  James loves to share food with Reese.  Particularly stuff he's not interested in eating.  If she is close enough to reach his tray, she helps herself to his food, of which he is not a fan.  Girl loves to eat.

Running errands is doable, but not my favorite thing.  I'd rather wait until Scott gets home to go the grocery store with the rest of the city after work than lug two kids into the store mid-day.  Places like the post office, no drive through and no carts to put kids? Those places just.don't.happen.  Or at least not often.  Keep in mind, I have a husband that works normal, regular hours.  Arranging errands for a time when he can be with the kids, or having him run the errands in conjunction with his commute is very doable.  I know not all moms have that option.  To you, I am so very sorry.

Bedtime is something Scott and I usually tackle together.  One of us picks a kid to diaper/pajama-up for the evening.  The other parent gets the kiddo leftover.  We take turns getting to pick the kid.  Factors in the kid-choosing include:  dressing Reese is like changing an octopus.  Sweating may happen on her part and/or the parent's part.  James sometimes takes convincing to allow the changing to occur.  The parent must decide which is stronger this evening: my verbal reasoning skills? Pick James.  Or my physical wrestling skills?  Pick Reese.  No skills this evening??  Beg the other parent to show mercy and give a pass on the evening routine.  (rare)

So how did it go for you?  What about from two kids to three kids? (or more)

Reese: 13 months

This little person just turned 13 months old yesterday.  At this rate, next week she'll get her driver's license.  Sheesh.

Reese Katherine is so much fun.  And by fun I mean exhausting.  :)  This girl is into everything all the time.  She is a crazy fast crawler, not yet walking.  She pulls up on furniture, legs of adults, or anything else she can grab.  Not a whole lot of cruising going on, but she enjoys hanging out while standing.  She sleeps through the night regularly.  God bless her for that.  She's a one-nap-a-day kinda girl.  She could stand to take two, but she just won't give in to go to sleep twice during the day.  She still takes two bottles a day.  (we stopped nursing at 6 months)  She has at least 8 teeth and is working on her first molars.  I can see a few white points of the molars through her gum line.  I would say eating is her favorite activity.  Well, that and following around her brother.

I can't quite get a non-blurry photo of her.  

1) I'm not a good photographer.  

2) She's in perpetual motion.

She says "I!" instead of "Hi".  No "h" involved in that word for her.    At least she uses her whole face to say it.  She waves hello and bye-bye.  I've heard her say "plap plap" while clapping her hands (or feet).  Also "Yay!"  Not too many other intelligible words yet.  Although she talks a lawt.  Remind you of anyone? *coughcoughMEcoughcough*

We were at my in-laws house for her first birthday in November.

I made her a cake like I made for James' first birthday.  I think she would've enjoyed whatever kind of cake we had, regardless of what it looked like.

While we were in Virginia visiting, she terrorized the dogs.  I don't think they minded too much, actually, since she loved to feed them from her high chair.  

We got to see a fire truck reeeeeeally up close.  That was more of a fitting present for James, though.

Speaking of presents, she got a super fun car for her birthday!  (I told you she'll get her license soon.)  She didn't get much of a chance to ride it thanks to her older brother.

The possessed eyes in this picture seem fitting for James who  immediately repo'ed her car.

We had another celebration with my family a few days later.

Reese did NOT cry when we sang happy birthday to her, unlike James.  We lit a crazy big candle and sang.  She looked questioningly around at everyone like "Are we okay with this?  Everyone good?"  Then her face changed from uncertainty to "THIS IS AWESOME!"  Of course I didn't get a picture of that.

Reese, you are a joy to be around.  I can't wait to continue to get to know you as you grow up!

Feeling Special

Last Sunday, Jame and I went to church together.  Yes, Jame.  This is how he refers to himself.  When he sees himself in the mirror he says excitedly, "JAME!"  No 's'.  I love it.  It's an improvement from the "Beans" or "Baynes" he used to call himself.  Not sure why he's dropped the 's' at the end, but whatever.  Toddlerspeak is hilarious, so I say carry on Jame.

We haven't been to church in a whiiiiiile.  The whole family wasn't coordinated enough to go together, so Reese and Scott stayed home.  We were slightly early (1-2 minutes, that's crazy early for me), so we parked in the satellite parking lot and road the shuttle bus over.  You would have thought that riding the bus was the sole reason we were there that day.  Jame absolutely LOVED.IT.  He kept saying BUS! BUS! BUS!  I should have just let him ride the shuttle by himself continuously while I was at church...

When we got into the building and headed toward his classroom, he started clinging a little more tightly to my arm.  As we stood in line to drop him off, his bottom lip started to protrude markedly.  When I placed him on the floor on the classroom-side of the gate (yes, 2 year old classrooms require gates), the tears and wailing began.  I left really, really quickly, so as not to draw out the painful process for him.

Off to church I went by myself.  I don't know if you consider going to church by yourself an outing, but it totally is.  I certainly would have preferred Scott and Reese to be there as well, (Reese in her own classroom), but that wasn't possible that morning.  So I had my own fun little by-myself-surrounded-by-a-whooooole-lotta-people outing.

If you've ever taken a kid to church and dropped them off, you've probably received some sort of claim ticket for them.  Because, apparently, they want you and only you to pick them up after the service.  Weird.  Can't I come back in a few days??  This particular morning I looked down at my sticker which says "Betty Davidson" (don't even get me started about people calling me "Betty") and my kid's number/letter combo: ZB4.  My cousin Jon wrote about this tagging of children at church idea.  He calls it playing "bad kid lottery" as you go through church hoping your kid's number doesn't appear on the screen.

I felt pretty confident Jame would do well in his class that morning.  I felt so confident I sat in the smackdabmiddle of a row. Two-thirds of the way through the service, the bad kid lottery screen lights up.  Imagine a scrolling, red, marquee kind of sign.  That's what it looks like.  First up, some early elementary school kid's number.  *Phew*  The next classroom name to scroll across says "2 yr olds"...................ZB4.

Aw dang.

I just won the bad kid lottery.  I quickly got up, and started making my way out of the row.  The people were kind and understanding as I tried not to step on their toes.  Off to the 2 year old classroom I went.

I can hear him before I get to the door of the classroom.  He is beside himself with grief over being left in that den of wolves to be eaten by those other 2 year olds.  Even holding his beloved giraffe "bankit" isn't helping calm him.  The sweet teacher passes him to me over the gate and encourages me to bring him again.  What a kind lady.  In her shoes, I would have said "We don't take criers."

The MOMENT he is in my arms, he stops crying and smiles.  I hugged him tightly and told him he was going to make it.  I promised.  Together we headed upstairs to the "Family Chapel" (where you can take kids of any age and they can be loud if they want to) for the remainder of the service.  He sat pretty happily on my lap for the last 15-20 minutes.  I just sat there squeezing on him and lovin' on him.

Although I would have preferred he make it the whole service in his class so I could have an uninterrupted church experience, I was grateful for this sweet time with him.  He's not a cuddly kinda guy.  He doesn't spend much time just hanging out in my lap.  From what everyone tells me, I'm going to blink my eyes and he'll be 30, so I better enjoy these rare moments.

I know parenthood can teach a person all kinds of things about how God loves us unconditionally.  I felt like this experience was one of those learning moments for me.  I saw a glimpse of how much God must love me as my Heavenly Father.  When I am beside myself with grief over something that probably shouldn't cause me as much grief as it is causing, all God has to do is just show up, arms open wide.  Suddenly, instantly, my fears are eased, the tears stop.  I feel loved, cared for, assured.

Putt-Putt

Scott determined James is now of the age to begin his proper golf indoctrination.  We made it a family affair.

James started out with a club that turned out to be a wee bit too heavy for him.  Apparently proper equipment is pretty crucial to a good golf game.  Since I'm not plagued with such a thing (a good golf game), I wouldn't know...

Similar to James' approach to corn hole, he found it easiest to just drop the ball into the hole.

Looks like Scott's work is cut out for him regarding James' form.

Reese tried to be a good cheerleader from the sidelines, but she lacked both the enthusiasm for the game and the ability to see it from her car seat.

We found she made a most excellent caddy, though...

James pretty much lost interest after the first two holes.  Scott and I spent the rest of the time taking turns putting and keeping James out of the water hazards.  Fun fun!

A Case of the Mondays

Warning:  MAJOR OVERSHARING IS ABOUT TO OCCUR.

Before I forget the details of this story, I want to write it all down.  This kind of thing doesn't usually happen to me.  It sounds more like a story Beth Anne would tell...

My Monday began about 1:10 am.  The all-too-familiar burning/urgency feeling awoke me from my sleep, giving me my first indication that I probably had a UTI.  I spent the next two hours in and out of the bathroom, trying to alleviate the burning/urgency/frequency symptoms.  If you've ever had a UTI, you KNOW what I'm talking about.  Miserable symptoms.  Sometime after 3:30 am, I was able to fall asleep.  When I woke up again, I noticed it was daylight outside and that (oddly) Scott was still in the bed.  On work days he is ALWAYS up pre-dawn.  I tapped him and said "What time is it?"  He groggily said "6:30....OH CRAP..." and bolted out of the bed.  He was on his way to work less than 10 minutes later.  Most impressive.

Within 30 minutes both kiddos were awake and chatting in their cribs.  I peeled myself out of my bed and began the morning routine of diaper changes, bottle and breakfast making, and interweb surfing.  As soon as my doctor's office opened, I was on the phone with them to see if they would call me in a prescription for antibiotics.  Sadly, they didn't want to call in a script for me.  They wanted to see me in the office.  Fun.  The first available appointment was at 1:30 pm.  I agreed to take that time slot knowing full well that is smack dab in the middle of both kids afternoon naps.  *Once again I refer you to the burning/frequency/urgency symptoms.  Feeling that way will make even the most schedule-nazi-mom wake up her sleeping kids to go to the doctor.*

We spent the morning at my friend Amy's house playing and hanging out.  As soon as we got home from there, I put James down for a much-abbreviated nap.  I fed Reese and put her back in her car seat, since we needed to leave very soon.  I grabbed a quick shower and packed us all back up to head out the door.  James was barefoot, sleepy eyed, confused, but thankfully pleasant as I plucked him from his crib and carried him to the car.  Off to the doctor we went.

Upon arrival to the doctor's office, there were no parking spaces right next to the building.  I had to park just a little jaunt away.  No big deal except that it was raining and I was wrangling two kids.  And I felt like I had to pee.  All the time.  I decided to forego the double stroller, which would have been easier for me not to have to carry a kid, but I didn't think it would FIT in the elevator or the exam room or really anywhere in the office.  I opted to put Reese in her car seat stroller frame stroller (still getting good use out of that Brandi!) and carry James on my hip.  Brilliant plan.  Off we went, through the rain, into the office.

I knew they were going to want me to pee in a cup as soon as I got there.  I also knew that would be an adventure in and of itself with James and Reese in tow.  Before I could even head towards the bathroom, I needed to put some socks and shoes on James.  Yes, I was that mom that had a barefoot old-enough-to-walk-toddler in public.  I sat down in the waiting room, dug his socks and shoes out of the diaper bag, and put them on him.  He was still groggy and didn't put up much of a fight.  Off to the bathroom we went.  The stroller, the toddler, and the momma all fit in the bathroom with some room to spare.  If you are supermom enough to provide a "clean catch" sample while holding your toddler, you are more supermom than I am.  I put James down to accomplish this task.  Mid-way through the "procedure", I look up to see him trying the door handle.  It's one of those lever-type door handles, not a door knob type.  Lever-types are easier for toddlers to open, in case you were wondering.  I tried not to scream "JAMES DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" while also trying not to make a huge mess with what I was doing.  James took his hand off of the door handle.

Phew.

After some hand-washing, the entourage and I left the bathroom and headed back to the waiting room.  My name was called rather quickly by the nurse.  She took me to the blood pressure/weight room.  There wasn't enough room for the whole entourage in that room, so Reese hung out in the hall.  She didn't seem to mind.  James was very concerned at this point that this appointment might, in fact, be about HIM.  I had to put him down again so I could be weighed.  He hit the ground running, beating feet straight out of that room and saying "CAR CAR CAR" as he went.  It was clear he wanted to leave.  I grabbed him by the arm and asked him to hold onto the stroller while I got weighed (that takes TWO SECONDS, you know), which he did.  He sat in my lap while I got my blood pressure taken and the nurse asked me questions about my symptoms and such.  As an indication of how distracted I was, I do not know what my weight or blood pressure were.  What woman doesn't pay attention to the scale when she's being weighed??  A woman who is trying to keep her toddler from running wild down the hall of the doctor's office, that's who.

Soon enough, we were ushered into the exam room to await the nurse practitioner.  Instead of sitting on the exam table, I sat down in the "guest" chair with James in my lap.  A couple of minutes after being put into the room, the nurse poked her head in the door to let me know I needed to strip from the waist down (my phrasing, not hers).  I said "Seriously??"

<sigh>

I did what she asked, situated myself on the exam table with the modesty sheet precariously draped around me and James in my lap.  Except he didn't WANT the sheet over him and kept pushing it aside.  I just sighed and left the sheet alone.  "Down! Down! Down!" he kept saying.  He didn't want to hang out with me anymore.  Fine.  I let him down from the table and hoped he wouldn't touch anything too icky in the exam room.  That wasn't going to be a problem, though, as I quickly learned.  Within the next minute or two, the toddler child POOPED.  

<sigh>

Of COURSE he's going to take this opportunity to poop and stink up the whole room when I'm half naked and any moment a nurse practitioner is going to walk through the door.  I grabbed the modesty sheet and finagled it into a wrap-skirt tucked in around my waist.  I procured my diaper changing items from the diaper bag and placed the stinky toddler on the exam table.  Right about the time I had his legs up by his ears, cleaning him up, the NP walks in.  I blurted out "Well I'm having just about the best day of my life, come on in!"  She laughed, no doubt to keep from crying from the smell stinging her eyes.  She kindly said, "Did he choose this moment?"  I said, "He sure enough did.  I'm so sorry for the smell!"  I told her I totally understood if she needed to go see another patient and come back to me.  She declined my offer to get away from the stench and instead asked me about why I was there in the first place.  I answered her questions while getting James situated.  No mention was made of my cute sheet-skirt.  She graciously forewent the invasive physical exam and said she would be back with a prescription for me.  I got re-dressed, she handed me my prescription, I wrapped the offensive diaper inside of four exam gloves and put it in my diaper bag, and off we went.

Wow.  What an adventure.  I tell you what, some of these things that I couldn't possibly have ever imagined before having kids, it's for the best.  I might have been too scared to do it had I known...

As a marvelous ending to this story, I'm just now realizing as I type this that there is a 90% chance that nasty-wrapped-in-four-gloves-diaper is STILL in the back of my car in the diaper bag.

<sigh>

Family Fun

On a perfectly lovely Saturday morning in May, we took the opportunity to visit a local strawberry* farm called Phillips Farm.  The overcast weather kept the temperature perfect and the crowd to a minimum.

It cost $5 per person over 2 years old to get in to the "fun" part of the farm.  (not the strawberry picking labor-intensive part)  Due to their young ages, James and Reese are cheap dates.

James and Scott enjoyed some corn hole...

Why waste all that energy and effort tossing the bean bag when it's easier to just drop it in the hole from point-blank range?

"No Dad, do it like this..."

James also practiced a little football.  I'm no football expert, but we may need to work on his form...

He rode on the "cow train" and seemed to enjoy it.

Lastly, he discovered la piece de resistance (said in best french accent)...

THE TRACTOR.

Scott and James spent at LEAST thirty minutes sitting in there playing with the steering wheel and gears and such.  Do you know how long thirty minutes is in toddler-time?  That's like a year and a half...

Thankfully it was drizzling rain by this point and most of the other patrons had already migrated to the picnic shelter areas to take cover.  I say "thankfully" because that meant there were no other little kids waiting their turn to sit in the tractor.  James wouldn't have stood for it.  Just ask the poor kiddos he practically kicked out of the tractor that were in it before him.  (So sorry to your children, Patsy.)

Although not pictured, Reese and I had a grand time as well watching our boys play. 

*No strawberries were harmed during this farm visit.  Due to the rainy weather, we didn't pick any!

Listening and Parenting and One-Upping

I recently came across an excellent perspective on the challenges of parenting small kids on another blog,  www.stevewiens.com.  I don't know the man, but I.LOVE.HIM. for writing it.  My favorite part:  

"We know it’s true that they grow up too fast. But feeling like I have to enjoy every moment doesn’t feel like a gift, it feels like one more thing that is impossible to do, and right now, that list is way too long. Not every moment is enjoyable as a parent; it wasn’t for you, and it isn’t for me. You just have obviously forgotten. I can forgive you for that. But if you tell me to enjoy every moment one more time, I will need to break up with you."

Another similar post by Glennon Melton made me smile and breathe a little bit easier.  One of my favorite parts of this post about Carpe Diem: 

"Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question."

In both of these articles, what they offered me was validation.  I'm doing okay.  My husband is doing okay.  My kids are doing okay.  We're gonna make it.  Because, if I'm honest, when I tell you a story about my toddler completely winning against me in the battle of wills that took place earlier today, what I'm looking for is support. Validation.  Encouragement.  What I am NOT looking for:

"Wait until he's a teenager!"

"Just wait until Reese is older and they can really fight like siblings!"

"This is the easy part...later is SO MUCH HARDER..."

Thanks.  Thanks for that.  Thanks for nullifying whatever it was I was saying.  Thanks for one-upping me with your story about your teenager/middle schooler/grown child.  

The fact of the matter is that I don't think we (as people) are very good listeners.  It's hard to hear a story and not share whatever story comes to mind after hearing someone else's tale.  But I'm determined to get better at it.  

When a first-time pregnant mom tells me she's having trouble sleeping, I want my knee-jerk response to be, "You are so right!  Sleep and pregnancy seem to be mortal enemies!"  Instead of "Wait til the baby comes!  You'll experience a whole new level of sleep deprivation!"

When a childless, younger person complains that the dog kept them up all night, I'd like to offer my sympathies instead of saying I remember fondly the days when my cats were my only sleep interruption.  (I may or may not take that opportunity to tell them that dogs are worthless creatures anyway.  Oh wait, I think that defeats my point of being a better listener and validating people...  Well there goes all my dog-loving readers...)

Your hard is hard to you, whatever that is.  My hard is hard to me, whatever it is.  I'm tired of being one-upped, and therefore I want to make sure I'm not doing that to other people, especially other moms.     

Dear Adoptive Parents

I can't even imagine what your journey to adoption has been like.  Tumultuous?  Long?  Involving more paperwork and red tape than Congress?  Full of heartache and failed pregnancies?  Or maybe easy-breezy, short, and completely unexpected?

This is one of many of life's unfairness-es.  That's a word, right?  It's not fair at all that I wasn't even trying to get pregnant, or thinking about it, and managed to become so.  Meanwhile you guys tried and tried, maybe even were successful a few times at getting pregnant, but then it didn't last.  That's not fair.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry if your path leading you here was a prickly, thorny, jagged rock path and there were no shoes to be found.

As our paths join from this point forward, there are a few things I want you to know.

• I want more than anything to see my child again.  From the moment I leave the hospital, an absolute emotional wreck, all I  will think about is "When can I see her again??!"  But I understand that you need time as a family to bond.  My guess is what you need me to know is that you need space.  Ultimately, I want what is best for her.  So if space is what you guys need, space is what you'll get.  But know that whenever you are ready, I'd love to see her again.  
• Relationships are fluid, dynamic things.  Whatever our relationship starts out like, good or bad, it doesn't have to or get to stay that way forever.  By investing time and attention and effort, we can build a positive, healthy connection.  Hopefully we can be really honest with each other throughout the process about what works for us, what doesn't, and what we want/need.
• Just like no two kids are exactly alike, no two adoptions are either.  While we can both gather support from others who have walked this path, our adoption is unique.  We will have to figure out what works best for us.  
• There will be times, like when we first meet, that will just be awkward, no matter what.  You may feel like you need to come across as well spoken, put together, and definitely not crazy because if you don't, I'll change my mind and not place my child with you.  I'll feel like I need to come across as well spoken, put together, and definitely not crazy because if I don't, you won't let me have a relationship with my child later on.  All of that is baloney.  Facades don't work long term.  You be you.  I'll be me.  We'll build on that.
• Most importantly:  I can be one of your biggest cheerleaders, if you'll let me.  You are raising my biological child.  I have a whole lot of interest vested in things going well for you and your family.  I want you to know I'm on your side, not against you.  If you ever doubt that, keep in mind that I chose you.  I chose you to be my daughter's parents.  I saw qualities in you, in your relationship to each other, that made me pick you above anybody else.  Please, please don't forget that!

Signed,
A loving birthmother

This Moment...

A)  Right this moment, there are two sleeping children in my house.  There are also two sleeping cats, but that's not nearly as noteworthy.

B)  For the second night in a row, I've had the immense pleasure of sleeping through the night.  A gift I believe to be straight from heaven above, delivered to me through baby Reese.

Because of (B), I am able to take this moment to write during (A).  Usually, my two kids don't sleep at the same time.  If they do, I'm so tired, I try to sleep briefly while they do.  So today I'm feeling particularly grateful for James and Reese napping at the same time and that I feel somewhat alert and awake.

I have so many things on my mind that I want to write about!

The transition from 1 kid to 2 kids.
Life with a newborn.
Life with a toddler.
My working life since I've returned from maternity leave.
Marriage in it's 4th year.
Apartment living with a family.
A million things related to adoption.

There are lots more thoughts that I just can pin down right now.

Maybe I'll make this a blurb-blog-post!  Just write a blurb about each topic!  Today I'll be a blurbologist.

1 kid --> 2 kids

I anticipated that doubling the number of children in our home would be challenging.  I didn't have (many) disillusions about that.  I figured that it would be hard no matter how old the first child is.  That being how I thought, we didn't wait long at all between kids.  James was 8 months old when I got pregnant with Reese.  He was exactly 17 months old when she was born.  Hindsight being what it is and all...now that Reese is here, I'm realizing that it may, in fact, have been a little bit helpful if James was older.  Who knew.  He is getting so much more independent now.  He's communicating a little better, asking for things, telling you what he wants/needs in a slightly more understandable fashion.  This is INCREDIBLY helpful!  We are well on our way to only having to fake-it-til-we-make-it-guess-what-the-child-needs with one kiddo instead of two.  So there ya have it.  Live and learn. :)

Newborns

I have really been able to enjoy Reese as a newborn.  Not that I didn't enjoy James as an itty bitty baby, but I've enjoyed her MORE.  It's all about perspective.  When James was born, I thought newborns were hard!  But thanks to James, I've learned that newborns are actually quite simple.  Labor intensive, but simple.  TODDLERS are the challenging ones!  I know all of you with teenagers are saying "Just you wait..."  Since I'm not to the teenager point yet, I don't have that perspective.  All I know is that my toddler is more challenging day to day than my newborn is.  I have appreciated my time with Reese since I know a little bit better now how truly quickly this phase goes by.

Toddlers

James is 20 months old now.  He is hilarious, busy, climb-y, attentive to details, curious, playful, smile-y, impatient, chatty but frequently not understandable, and will occasionally drive one to want to drink. I'm starting to see now what people may love about this stage.  The curiosity he shows about anything and everything and how quickly he learns things is amazing.  I love watching his little brain work out a problem.  In part because of how his cheeks practically rest on his chest when he's sitting down, looking down, working on something.  He has also gotten a little more cuddly than he used to be.  He will sit in my lap and let me read to him.  When he gets really tired, he definitely is more amenable cuddling, especially if he can hold on to one of his lovey blankets and suck his thumb.  I still don't love the throw down, thrash about tantrums that seem to accompany toddlerhood, but who does.  At least there are some redeeming moments in between to keep me from wanting to lock him in his room and throw away the key.

Work

I returned to work on January 27th.  I was out on maternity leave for 12 weeks plus a couple of days.  I was ready to go back!  I was looking forward to adult conversation, earning some money, and using a different part of my brain as a nurse than I do at home.  I reduced my hours at work to part time.  For those not involved in the hospital nurse world, full time work is usually three 12 hour shifts per week.  Therefore, in two weeks, I was working 6 days.  Now in a two week time frame, I work 3 days.  This is very manageable.  I still get a TON of time with my kiddos.  I don't have to stress about pumping at work as much as I did last time.  I do have to pump at work.  I couldn't make it 13+ hours without pumping.  However, even if I don't pump the same number of times that Reese eats and my supply starts to go down after one day at work, she can nurse it back up the next day.  My parents keep my kids when I work during the week.  Scott keeps them on weekends.  I'm super comfortable with both arrangements, so neither one causes me stress while I'm at work.  All in all, so far so good regarding being a working mom of two.

Marriage

Oh Scott.  We had no idea 4.5 years ago that our lives would be like this now.  "This" can be many things:  awesome, horrible, and everything in between.  When Reese and James are having bad days and Scott and I are exhausted, we tend to think "What the heck have we done?!"  But on the good days, when we're enjoying our family-ness, contentment abounds.  We do have to laugh when we think about what it was like when we dated and were soooo in love and all that mushy stuff.  We're still very much in love, but it sure looks more practical and less mushy now.  He appreciates it when I cook dinner.  I appreciate it when he runs errands and takes James with him.  It's just different than it used to be... :)

Apartment Life

We would love to be in a house and not an apartment.  Dave Ramsey recommends saving 20% for a down payment and getting a 15 year fixed mortgage.  This is what we plan to do, it just takes time.  In the mean time, we're living in an apartment.  I curse our upstairs neighbors when they are clomping around (in lead shoes, I'm sure) and wake up one of my kids.  I cringe and wait for a knock on the door from our downstairs neighbors when James is running around like a mad man squealing at the top of his lungs.  C'est la vie in an apartment.  Fortunately, we moved into a 2nd floor apartment (down from the 3rd floor!) in December that has an attached garage.  That is amazingly helpful when transporting car seat age children.  I can get one kid squared away in the car and come back upstairs to retrieve the other kid.  Before, when we were on the 3rd floor without a garage, I just wasn't comfortable leaving one kid in the car in the parking lot while I traipsed back upstairs to get the other kid.

Adoption

Adoption consumes a fair portion of my thought life.  I think about Chloe all the time and what I hope our relationship can be like.  I think about Scott and I adopting in the future and what that may be like.  Sticking with the blurb-ness of this post, I'll keep this short.  Several weeks ago, Melissa asked if we could set up a time for Chloe to call me.  Melissa said Chloe had been talking about me a lot recently.  She (Melissa) felt like she (Chloe) needed to talk to me.  I thought it was a great idea.  She (Chloe) called me at the agreed upon time.  We talked for 20 minutes or so.  At first it was a little awkward and slow going.  Have you ever talked to an 8 year old on the phone?  You have to ask a LOT of questions to get them to talk!  Then it was less awkward and conversation flowed more readily.  When we hung up, I thought, "And so it begins..."  A new phase of our relationship.  Up until now, I've primarily cultivated a relationship with Melissa, because I felt that was the best thing to do.  But now, it seems we're transitioning to a time where Chloe and I will start to define our relationship.  It's exciting and scary all at the same time.  I wonder if Chloe thinks the same thing I do:  "I hope she likes me!!"

As far as Scott and I adopting, we haven't even begun to begin the process, if that makes any sense.  I think saving for a house is a prerequisite for us pursuing adoption.  We want to be in a home before we bring another child into our family.  We shall see...

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Wow....I typed this whole post and both kids are still sleeping.  UH-MAZING.

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Thanks for joining me here and sharing in my world.  Please feel free to leave a comment and include your blog address, if you have one.  I love blog reading!!

Breastfeeding and Football

Breastfeeding is a big time commitment.  Watching football is a big time commitment.  I've compiled a list of penalties, borrowing the names of which or the concept from football, but applying it to my experiences with breastfeeding.  Enjoy.

Roughing the Feeder:
Two possibilities here.
A)  The sweet little babe of a child beats the mom with clenched fists while attempting to nurse.  Usually involves crying, maybe by both involved parties.
B)  The aforementioned sweet child does not latch well, chomping on mom's nipple, causing excrutiating pain either immediately or over time as the non-well-latched-nursing continues.

False Start:
The wee babe latches, nurses long enough to cause milk letdown, then pops off.  Immediately the baby gets sprayed in the face from at least three different angles as the milk continues to flow fire-hose-style.  Typically this causes a pissed off baby and a soaked nursing pillow and shoulder/arm of the baby's outfit.

Illegal Motion:
While nursing well and latched beautifully, the innocent child has explosive, pervasive, blow out poopie that faster than lightning seeps throw every layer of clothing on mom and babe and soaks the nursing pillow.

Pass Interference:
While mom attempts to transition the infant from one breast to the other, somewhere mid-air the baby spews some large portion of what she's just eaten , usually hitting whatever electronic device is near by at the time. (TV remote, cell phone, ipad, etc...)

Offsides:
The freakish phenomenon that describes the serenely peaceful little one asleep on her side, quickly morphing into a screaming monster when removed from that peaceful position and unsuccessfully transitioned to a bassinet or crib.

Holding:
(Offensive) This foul involves older siblings.  While the baby is nursing, the older child(ren) will inevitably want to be held.  Waiting to be held is out of the question in their minds.  Space on mom's lap is no concern of theirs either.
(Defensive) When the husband accuses the nursing mother of simply holding the baby, who is no longer eating, but asleep at the breast, to get out of doing chores.  This foul gets called when trash needs emptying, dinner needs cooking, etc.

Personal foul:
Mom awakes abruptly in the middle of the night to the baby's cries.  She has 0.1 seconds to decide whether she should go to the bathroom first or feed the baby.  She decides to wait and feed the baby first.  While the baby is nursing, she very much regrets the waiting-to-pee decision.  The personal foul is what occurs if she cannot hold it any longer.

What did I leave off?  Have you experienced any of these scenarios? Or know someone who has?