The Toddler Years Are Rough

According to our son, Daddy may not have a nose, but is very patriotic. Mommy, on the other hand, is looking a bit like a stoner transvestite these days...

Otherwise, parenthood hasn't changed us one bit.

The Secrets Held by Little Boys' Pockets

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Little boys' pockets hold magical things

Earthworms, apple cores, a mess of strings,
but this treasure is nothing to the wealth one find's
in little boys' hearts and little boys' minds.

Author Unknown

Dispatches from Toddlerhood

My son has had allergies since the day he was born. It was never a big deal until it morphed into asthma.

Since then, I've gone out of my way to keep him away from any dirt, dust, pollution, or pollen, and especially smokers. It sounds maddening, but it was actually quite do-able until we moved to EUROPE (!!!)

I've instituted a strict "no outside shoes in the house" rule and vacuum every single day-- upstairs, downstairs, and the staircase, too. It's a thankless pain, but I'm happy to do it to keep my kid healthy...

...and for all of my efforts, I turn around today and find him with the dirty vacuum attachments in his MOUTH!

(Loud SIGHING)

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We went ahead and transitioned our son into a toddler bed along with our move.

It took a few days, but we finally found a nice one. Our son was so eager to have his very own "big boy bed" that he lay down and took a nap on it that afternoon.

I don't know why we bother to congratulate ourselves on our "parenting brilliance", because he has yet to actually sleep in it again...

Bedtime used to be tidy little process in our house. After our son's bath, we read stories and said prayers. Then, we'd play his lullaby CD, put him in his crib, give him a kiss, and leave the room. Most nights, he wasn't heard from again until late the next morning and I was free to clean, do laundry, blog, whatever... I was a blessed woman.

All that wonderfulness has been replaced with whining (his), begging (mine), and lots of crying (ours).

We've tried silently waking him back to his room a la SuperNanny, but the kid is relentless. We've offered brides and talk about all the exciting things planned for the next day "that will get here sooner" if he would... just... close... his... eyes.

We've stayed downstairs and ignored his screams of bloody murder at the gate, but I'm pretty sure that our neighbors hate us for that. (We share a wall on both sides.)

We've even tired making it bedtime for everyone. Hubby and I make a big production about turning out all of the lights and getting into our bed, but our son just comes into our room and yells "Get up!" repeatedly a mere three inches from my head.

Lately, we've just passed out from days upon days of exhaustion while he stays up and plays with his toys. Who knows what time his finally gets to bed... if ever.

Did I mention that he's usually up before we are? Yeah, it's maddening....

There have been a few mornings when we've found him asleep. We've woken up to find him curled up on the floor next to our bed or his, but ever IN his bed...

I'm about to do a little regressing of my own and put him back in a crib. At least, he had no choice but to stay there.

Any advice, Internet????

Parenting Holiday

One of the benefits of staying at my parents' house is access to all of the *free* cable I could ever want...

We gave up paying for cable when we no longer had the attention span for long, leisurely afternoon TV marathons. Basically when we became parents...

"How can you live without cable?" our friends always ask us.

"We just do," we always say.

So anyway.... all the free cable I want, right? So, natuarally, I've been obsessing over Jon & Kate Plus 8. I LOVE this show!

Yeah. I know. I know. Umm, heee-llo. Where have you been?

I may have been living under a rock, but I think I've watched practically every episode in just one weekend. Like I said, obsessed!

I just can't decide if this show make me feel smug or inadequate as a mom. Okay, "smug" is the wrong word... but, definitely inadequate.

I mean, I've been feeling trampled by my ONE toddler lately. I can't even imagine SIX... I guess that's why they have a show on TLC and I don't.

My husband has been gone for over a week now, and even though my parents have been great, it just not the same. First of all, there are no rules at my parents' house- no bedtimes, no set mealtimes, and... again, cable 'til your eye fall out.

My parents play the role of indulgent grandparents very well... as is their right, but that leaves me to be the "bad cop"... all... the... time. I'm so much better at being the "good cop"...

Well, good cop or not, I'm big on predictable daily routines and schedules and I know all too well that my parents simply... are NOT.

I don't expect my parents to change for my sake. However, I would prefer if they weren't the ones yelling and screaming "No, no, no. Not yet..." when I announce it's time for bath, books, and bed...

So in spite of what critics (and random commenters) have to say about "Jon & Kate", I love this show because it's what parenting as teamwork is all about.

It's not pretty and sometimes, not particularly polite, but at least everyone's on the same page and I miss that.... A LOT.

Home Sweet Home

It's strange and somewhat disconcerting to look at your house through the eyes of potential buyers...

Everyone thinks they have good taste, but thanks to pretty much any show on the TLC network, we all know otherwise. Of course, you start with the best of intentions when you buy a house. (We certainly did.) You start off with a "big" empty house, then you purchase furniture and art work. You inherit some patio furniture and buy a grill. You talk about renovating and replacing...then life gets in the way.

Next thing you know, you have a toddler who leaves crumbs on the sofas, scuffs the hardwood floors, and spills milk on the carpet. So, what's the point of replacing any of it anytime before he leaves for college?

It was L- O- V-E the first time we set foot in our house. The beautiful hardwood and slate floors, the spacious yard, the enormous closet in the master bath, and the charming French doors leading into the study... there was a lot to love, but it still was no where near our "dream house".

For starters, the water heater had to be replaced two weeks after we signed the mortgage. Then, there was the matter of the hideous wall paper and borders throughout the house, and the broken ladder up to the attic. Ugh!

We took down the border and repainted in the study right away, but it's four years later and we still haven't quite gotten around to doing the same thing to the bathrooms or the kitchen. (We never replaced the ladder up to the attic either...)

These days, we hardly notice it anymore-- the wallpaper, not the ladder. Perhaps we've even grown to admire it as one of the house's little quirks. That is, until it was time to put in on the market again...

We can't help it. We look around and all we think of are the good times we've had here. It's the first house we ever owned together and the place where we brought our son home. It's where he learned how to crawl and eventually how to walk, then run. We think about how proud we are to call it ours.

We were initially attracted to this house because the open floor plan is great for parties, and we've certainly thrown our fair share of them... There have been so many happy occasions that we've celebrated within these walls with friends who never know when it's time to say "good-night". It was okay, though. We certainly didn't mind opening "just one more bottle of wine" and keeping them entertained late into the night.

It's difficult to separate all of that from what a potential buyer only sees...

The hardwood floors that ought be refinished, and the hideous (and now, painfully outdated) wallpaper that goes floor to ceiling in the kitchen.

Some months ago, when we were looking to move to a bigger house (but not necessarily "across the pond"), I asked a real estate agent to evaluate our home and provide some pointers on things to update, renovate, or just get rid of in order to fetch a better selling price.

I feverishly cleaned, polished, and picked up before she came over, and her only words of advice...

De-clutter. Hmphf!

home, sweet home

A page from my parenting playbook...

I kid you not. My EXACT words when I noticed my son eying this with peaked interest at his friend's birthday party...

"Honey, if you pull that plug the sun will go down"

What can I say? It was the first thing that popped into my head and a heck of a lot more interesting for my son than the usual, "Don't! Stop! No!"

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Click the button for more Monday hilarity and such.

Birthday V2.0: Part II

If you missed the first installment, you can find it here.

As you smarty pants out there have probably figured out, there was just so much birthday stuff to blog about that I decided to do a series of posts versus one very long one. This is probably fitting since my son's birthday has pretty much consumed my entire existence for the past two weeks... at least.

If that sounds like the equivalent to other people's vacation photos to you, then please feel free to tune out this week. I will totally understand. Totally.

Now where was I? Ah, yes... So, guess what rolled into town but only for a very limited engagement?

Ummm, only an opportunity to ride on Thomas the Tank Engine ON my son's birthday.

We just HAD to go. I booked our tickets four months ago when I first heard about it and convinced my playgroup to do the same. It was supposed to be my son's ONE big birthday celebration with his friends. HA! (But more on that later....)

Planning that far ahead of time with a group a two-year-olds is always very dicey. I've been known to cancel outings the morning of, simply because my son woke up with a 'tude. Usually it's not a problem when the activity in question is playing in the park or dropping by a friend's house, but these tickets cost $60!

In my book, that's a lot of money to just say, "Pfff... I guess we'll just stay home if you really don't want to wear pants today..."

The ride itself was pretty uneventful. I believe the highlight for my son was being in a moving vehicle and NOT confined to a car seat. Frankly, he and his friends looked a little stunned to be there the whole time...

We were one of the last groups to get off the train, so by the time we got to the front there was a huge line to get your picture taken with Thomas. We braved it anyway, but just as we were about to take our turn Thomas had to leave for another "adventure".

This is Thomas pulling out of the station... and although, you don't see it, my son and I yelling and shaking our fists. "25 minutes until the next photo op. Peep! Peep!"

Bu-bye-bye, Thomas. You jerk!

In the meantime, there were other photo ops available. This Sir Topham Hatt with not-my-kid...

My son and his friends wanted nothing to do with Sir Topham Hatt. I mean, just look at the size of him in comparison to an "average" kid! I wouldn't want anything to do with him either. Furthermore, we wanted nothing to do with the line to take photos with him (especially not after our experience with Thomas.)

...and this is Sir Topham Hatt telling me to get back in line and stop...

ahem! ahem! "...causing confusion and delay...."

hehe! Yeah, I couldn't resist.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this (to the whole Internet), but I think I was actually MORE excited about our adventure with Thomas than my son or any of his friends...

We eventually got our "official" photo with Thomas.

See, that's our family on that day our son turned 2!

Happy Birthday V2.0

Okay, I'm back from the weekend o' birthday extravaganza and I am officially POOPED!

My son's birthday started with a BANG and a KA-BOOM... quite literally and at 3:30 in the morning... That's when we awoke to find our house being pelted with hail and a terrified birthday boy stunned and terrified in his crib. While Hubby went to comfort him, I flipped on the TV to find a local news broadcast.

I hate the local news, by the way, and here is why...

The only channel NOT broadcasting infomercials at 3AM had up a weather map indicating that a TORNADO was coming towards our neighborhood. Not our general non-specified area. Not our county. Our neighborhood and OUR HOUSE!

Next thing I know the nearest tornado siren starts to wail. It's less than a mile away, so we're talking LOUD here. We grab pillows off the bed and head to the only "secure" location in the home, our closet. (The same closet where I hid all of the birthday gifts still unwrapped, by the way...)

Turns out there wasn't a tornado spotted AT ALL and they freaked us out for nothing. After it hailed for about 5 minutes, it rained. Just RAIN and only about an inch or so at that.. but, you know, anything for a sensational sound bite for the demo reel/promos...

I hate the local news.

We allowed our son, who was entirely too shaken to go back to his own bed, to "sleep" the rest of the morning in ours. Not that anyone really got anymore sleep. It took a long time to calm him down only to wake up ONE HOUR later with him perched ON my head, trying in vain to turn off the alarm clock we've been ignoring.

My husband, long since kicked out of the bed by a pushy toddler, was sprawled on the floor and we were ALL running very late the first of the birthday events, "Day Out with THOMAS" (the Tank Engine). Peep! Peep!

To be continued...

In the meantime, read up on Anglophile Football Fanatic's post about their experience at "Day Out with Thomas" a week before.

Oh, how life has changed: Birthday Edition

My husband was out of town for a conference, so my friends invited me over for a casual family dinner of gumbo. It was a great idea, except that may have quite possibly been THE most disgusting sounding thing in the world to me.

The gumbo, not the friends and family time...

There were supposed to be a bunch of other people from college there too, including my best friend. It was mostly folks who we hadn't seen a whole lot since they got married and had babies... lots and lots of babies.

It would have been so much fun to see everyone again, but I just wasn't up for it. I gave my regrets and spent my evening channel surfing on the sofa.

Turns out I didn't miss much. My best friend (A.K.A. the only single adult there) called to check on me as she was leaving their house. There was fear and panic in her voice. The kids outnumbered the adults, which, at the time, definitely would have scared me too...

"It was SO crazy. The KIDS! They were all over the place and so insanely LOUD! And, oh my goodness! Their house! Their house! It... was... covered... in... TOYS!" she said. "Man, you and I should be glad we're not pregnant, right?"

"Actually.... I am." and after a brief pause, we both started screaming, "Ahhhhhhh!"

That was 2 years and 9 months ago, and I haven't looked back since.

Today is my son's 2nd birthday. In the calm before the celebrations, I can't help but ponder how those days when I first blurted out the words, "I'm PREGNANT" to our family and friends seem like a distant past but yet, not so much....

You know that saying: "the days are long, but the years are short"? No truer words have EVER been spoken. I can hardly account for all of the late, late nights and way-too-early mornings, photo ops, diaper changes, bedtime stories, frantic phone calls to docs, sweet kisses, tantrums, adorable belly giggles... and the much, much more to come.

To say having a child changes everything would be a severe understatement. While I haven't been a mom for very long, it's still strange to think back to a time when every dinner went smoothly, cleanly, and uninterrupted. Happy hours weren't just for my monthly "girls' night out" and weekends revolved around "hmmm, now which jello shot workout class to take"...

I wish I could say that I miss life before becoming a mom, but to be perfectly honest... I don't. My simple, suburban life may be less than glamorous to most some people, but somehow life just doesn't seem quite right without my son (and all the craziness he brings) in it.

These days, I'm the one with the messy, chaotic house full of toys and barely making it to see my old friends. (Sorry, but sadly it's true) As for my best friend...

She and her fiance are my son's godparents, and they're getting married this summer. Oh, how life has changed!

Then and...

Now and Loving every minute of it.

Spring Break, Stomach Flu, and Bob the Builder, too

There were plenty of witty and clever blog posts taking shape in my head this week... or at least, I thought so...

Unfortunately, every single one was stifled by the EVIL and ENERGY-SUCKING stomach virus that I've been suffering through... I don't want to even go into how I supposedly contracted it. (I SWEAR, I wash my hands, people!)

I suppose germs are just part of the territory when you're a parent, but still... Ick! Ick! Ick!

The local ISDs are on Spring Break this week and the weather has mostly been GORGEOUS, so there was plenty for us to see and do. Except I couldn't get out of bed.... Fuggedabout leaving the house!

So instead of play dates and the zoo as previously promised to my son, we watched a ridiculous amount of TV, including a Bob the Builder DVD that defaults to FRENCH! (Thank you, Netflix)

Ou, est-ce que je devrais dis, "Bob le Bricoleur"?

Four semesters of college French and several "anti-nausea" pills, I found it entertaining.

My son? Not so much...

Eh, c'est la vie!

When we eventually left the house, it was to pick up my younger sister and her boyfriend from the airport. Both teachers, they were returning from Las Vegas, where they were "spring breaking" and, guess what they brought home for my son???

Yep, he loves it. You could even say, he thinks it's slots of fun (Ha! Ha! Ha!)

Then again, I'm sure anything is more interesting than one's favorite (non-French-speaking) show dubbed in French.

Hope you all have a wonderful Easter Weekend!

The Thrill of the Hunt

This past weekend, we attended the ridiculous huge Easter Egg Hunt put on by our parish. Armed with two cameras and the camcorder, Hubby and I were super (dorky) excited about taking our son this year. We skipped this event his last two Easters, so this was his very first Easter Egg Hunt... ever!

He, on the other hand, was totally confused by whole thing. That is... until he accidentally popped opened one of the plastic eggs and discovered what magic it held inside....

"CHOCOLATE! Now I TOTALLY get the meaning of Easter!"

Yeah, he caught on quick and there was no stopping him after that. He was the last kid to leave the playground and go into the party that followed, where we encountered one more surprise....

Let's just say that he was less then impressed with the (adult-sized) nightmare fuel Easter Bunny, who was present for photo ops...

Yep, there's a classic photo.

"The Invisible Mom "

Okay, so I'm totally ripping a lovely bit of inspiration found on Mom Logic (awesome site, by the way. Woot! Woot!) and reposting it here...

I don't normally forward stuff like this, but it really moved me. I was literally tearing up and everything. Now, it could have TOTALLY been because I was kinda in a mood yesterday.

Come to think of it, so was my son... think there's any correlation???

Anyway, I e-mailed it to my playgroup and another mommy group to which I belong and the response was overwhelming. There were tears and thank yous....and more tears...

So, I wanted to share it with you too (just in case, someone hasn't already):

The Invisible Mom

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated suma cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read—no, devour—the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, MOM!

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know.

This is an excerpt from Nicole Johnnson's book The Invisible Woman.

(Breast)Feeding Carnival

Leave it to Lotus (a.k.a. Sarcastic Mom) to host a blog carnival all about boobies!

Okay, not exactly....

It's really an opportunity for mommies to talk about how they fed their babies- breast or bottle. Or, as my story goes... my love/hate relationship with my pump.

Like other moms posting their baby feeding story today, I never gave breastfeeding a second thought. In fact, like any pregnant-for-the-first-time mom, I didn't give much of anything dealing with the actual WORK of having a child a second thought...

Of course, I would nurse my son. What a no brainer, right?

Oooooo-bviously, I would give birth after pushing only twice. Yes, twice. The doctor would hand my son to me, who would latch on perfectly the first time, then gauzey, soft music would start playing... just like in all of the videos they showed us in birthing class. HA!

I was so heavily drugged and exhausted after, as I call it, "giving birth twice", that I couldn't even hold my son afterwards. He was feed formula in the nursery while I wallowed alone in in my first dose of mommy guilt in the recovery room.

The next few days in the hospital were difficult, as lactation consultant after lactation consultant was called in to... well, I guess consult with us. We eventually figured out the "mechanics" of it on our own, and I started looking forward to nursing my son. I enjoyed the time and privacy it afford us to "just be", but I was never able to produce enough milk to feed my son... in spite of trying several techniques and even one very delightful herbal tea.

Supplementing was an easy choice for us, but one that made me feel incredibly inadequate as a mom. I don't know if it was all the pressure (and controversy) put on breastfeeding or that fact that it came so naturally to the other mothers I knew, but I just seemed like a giant test of motherhood that I was failing...

Determined to stick with it for as long as possible, I purchased a top of the line pump before going back to work. Fortunately, I worked for a very "progressive" company that offered "health rooms" complete with a comfortable chair, refrigerator, a door with a lock, and dimmer switches. Again, I thought it would be easy... once I got the hang of it.

I actually loved it in there. It was peaceful and quiet and I could focus on being a mommy as my pump whirled away. In fact, I once lost track of time in there and missed the beginning of an important meeting...

It was so humiliating to have to send an apology to my boss, explaining where I was and WHY... Fortunately, she was understanding, providing it never happened again. That's when I started blocking time on my calendar for pumping. Time, I should mention, that my co-workers usually overlooked and scheduled on top of anyway.

Then, there was the time when security was called in to "break down the door" because some lady wanted to get her SCRAPBOOKING SUPPLIES that she had left in the room. When I answered the door, shirt askew and my pump in plain view, the (male) guard apologized and never bothered me again... ever!

In the end, I only lasted two or three months pumping. The stress of taking conference calls while my "magic milk machine" roared in the background made my milk dwindle to nearly nothing.

I eventually had to gave up breastfeeding entirely, but I will always think back to those tender moments when it was just me and my son with the sweetest of memories.

Book Meme

Sasha of Cherished Moments tagged me for this neat little book meme last week. The rules are:

Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages). Open the book to page 123. Find the fifth sentence. Post the next three sentences. Tag five people.

The book by my computer is It's a Boy: Women Writers on Raising Sons, a compilation of essays about the experience of raising boys edited by Andrea Buchanan.

I bought it shortly after finding out that I was having a boy and read every word like it was "how-it" manual. As the oldest of three girls, I didn't have much experience with boys having the run of the house and I was about to be out numbered...

I pulled it out recently for inspiration. We were asked to write about post about raising boys for mothergoosemouse's baby shower last month and I needed some focus. As I reread several of the essays, I could relate so well... better than I did the first time I read it. I was about six months pregnant at the time. While I felt a bond with my child then, but I didn't realize that he would be the love of my life.

So a chapter ends on page 123 and it isn't very long past the fifth sentence, so I'll just post the last paragraph on the page:

I push off my shoes and stuff in my socks. The water is so cold on my ankles it hurts. As green-headed ducks drift by and the sun glints blades into the water and three boys with their pants rolled to their knees balance on mossy stones, I step in deeper and cringe. A boy can do that to you.

I tag Nap Warden, Mama Geek, Steph of The Daily Grind, Stephanie of A Little Bit of Sugar & A Whole Lotta Spice!!, and Mommy Bits.

What Passes for a "Crazy Night" at the Casa de D

"YOU'RE the fun one???" my sister-in-law once asked in utter disbelief. "Why yes I am," I tartly responded (the "yeah, bitch" was implied). Actually, no one believes I'm the "fun one".

Well, good cop, bad cop. Fun one, strict one... whatever you want to call it, I AM the instigator of the good times around here.

Come to think of it, neither one of us is truly the "strict" one. We both agree on discipline and dole it out when needed. (united front, united front, united front) My husband just wouldn't think of, much less allow, stuff like finger painting the tub...

He was however impressed that we cleaned up afterwards-- baby and tub.

My husband handles the bedtime routine at night, giving me time to blog a nice break in the evenings. Having to do it alone has become super stressful, so I've just made going to sleep optional. He likes to wait up for his Daddy anyway. We both do.

So, I just leave the light on and let him look at books in his crib until my husband comes home to enforce bedtime again...

My husband would also never allow our son and his friends to play golf inside the house. At least the kids were in their pj's already... or maybe they've been wearing them all day. Hmm...

my son and his BFF, either golfing or jousting

Like it matters. Did I mention that these kids just had ice cream for dinner? They didn't want to eat the healthy stuff. No one was here to back me up and I was too tired to make them eat it on my own. Yeah, I have no idea why people let me watch their kids either...

This is just the sort of stuff that happens when my husband starts having to spend all of his time at the office. We miss him, but a little chaos and madness seem to make the hours until he's home (to put an end to the chaos and madness) fly by just a bit faster...

Haiku, Brought to You by Elmo

8 AM. Time for...
"La la la-la. Elmo's song..."
It sticks to your brain!

Running through my head
"La la la-la. Elmo's song..."
All day and all night

It drives me batty,
But if it means a shower
I can love it, too.

Yeah, putting my son in front of the TV so I can shower in peace. It's an age old tradition, right? Why did I ever think I could change it? Well, I'll just cross that off my list of "never dos..." My list is getting rather short. hehe!

At least, it's PBS and not Sponge Bob... Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just really hate that theme song.

For more Haiku Friday, check out A Mommy Story and Playgroups are No Place for Children.

Bedtime Snack?

I was getting ready for bed last night when I felt my husband's hand graze my left boob. Fully prepared to gave him a look, I pulled my shirt over my head and found him holding up a Cheerio. Apparently, it had been hanging out in my bra all day and was still stuck on me...

Okay, I have my suspicions about how is got there. I just have no idea how I didn't notice it... ALL DAY!

...and who says being a mom isn't HOT?!

This post is dedicated to my fellow Weekend Blog Hoppers, because nothings says "oh yeah, we're parents" like finding Cheerios in your cleavage... Cheers!

While I'm Away...

On the way to my son's doctor appointment, we passed by an office where I used to work. The company has since moved out of the building, but its name can still be clearly seen on the sign out front. It was my first job out of college and I remembered how it felt walking in there. My own desk, my first business cards, my first promotion...

Suddenly, I was hit with an all-to-familiar pang of missing my career, and I wondered to myself, "Would I ever go back?"

My husband has been working some crazy hours lately- weekends, early meetings, and late nights. Although barely seeing him has been difficult, I was just marveling at how much easier it is has been to have one of us at home.

No juggling day care pick ups, no fast food/take out meals, and no running errands on weekends. The bills are paid in a timely manner, the trash is taken out, and the beds have crisp, clean sheets... Basically, things that I'm embarrassed to admit didn't happen when we both worked and didn't even have a child in the mix.

I L-O-V-E being a SAHM, but sometimes I wonder... "Will I ever go back to work? Can I even go back?" (Come to think of it, I get asked that quite a bit, mostly by my parents who paid for my entire college tuition and living expenses. Hmm...)

Well, conventional thinking would say "Nope. I quit to raise my son and botched it for good", but fortunately, we no longer live in a conventional world...

This afternoon I found a great article, Quit work for a while to have kids. Your career will be just fine by Penelope Trunk, but way of Sara, the Self-Made Mom and it helped that little pang subside. (It seems that we had similar experiences today and the comment I left on her blog was the inspiration for this post.)

The article was good reminder that the road of life is paved with a multitude of options. The direction you take all depends on where you want to be.

Of course, given the choice between sipping coffee and skimming emails in an office or shuttling a cranky, sick toddler to the doctor, who would choose the cranky, sick toddler?

I can name one- my husband, who will barely be making it home for bedtime tonight and who just the other day asked me, "Did he grow while I was gone?"

Action Man

One of the busiest of mommybloggers out there is about to get a whole lot busier. As in “more kids than parents" busier. And every new mama—even a three-time winner like Julie—deserves a celebration.

Mayberry Mom, Motherhood Uncensored, & motherbumper are hosting the baby shower and has asked their bloggy friends to "write a post about raising, rearing, chasing, or enjoying little boys", so here goes...

When my son was three months old, we took him to visit his cousins... his girl cousins and one of them only a mere four weeks younger. We laid the two infants side by side on the play mat and watched as the two interacted. Actually, my niece was the only one doing the interacting...

While she tried in vain to coo, babble, and make lovey-lovey eyes at my son, he was more interested in kicking the supports and making the dangling rattles and toys shake. When her then 3-year-old big sister asked, "what's wrong with him?", I laughed and explained, "Nothing's wrong with him, honey. He's just being a BOY."

At 21 months old, he is a little man of few words and all action. He's into dogs, balls, cars, tools, techy gadgets, and anything that can be used as a club. I've tried teaching him how to "use his words", but it seems grunting and pointing will have to suffice for the time being. He has no patience for talking... especially when there's a sofa to jump off of or a cabinet to unlock.

Yet for all of his boundless energy and testosterone, there's an unexpected tenderness that lies beneath. I've always heard how devoted boys are to their moms, but it still takes me by surprise. Probably because it comes out in sweet little bursts likes a spontaneous hug or tiny pat on my back. Sometime his love is expressed in shoving that other kid out of his mommy's lap or feeding me a Goldfish cracker dug up from his car seat... and that makes it all worth it!

My only words of advice: Enjoy every bit of it, mothergoosemouse!

And, Congratulations!!!

Just a Mom Milestone

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of the day I "officially" became a SAHM.

A year ago, I swiped my security badge for the very last time and with great trepidation, handed it over to the guard on duty. Even though I had resigned months before and at that point, had only hung on until the next sucker my replacement could be hired and sufficiently trained, I remember thinking, "Oh crap, what have I done?"

What I had done was walk away from a world where I felt smart, ambitious, and IMPORTANT... Like a lot of people, my whole identity was wrapped up in my career. It was, after all, everything I had been working towards up until this point. Without it, what was I?

By the way, it bears mentioning that Piper of Love wrote a clever post about this very thing last week. Her words struck a nerve with me, reminding me of exactly how I felt about this huge life change... and quite timely, no less.

What I dreaded most was losing myself in the stereotype of the suburban housewife. I am, of course, referring to the "me" whose passions, interests, intellect, and clever wit would now be reduced to three words: "just a mom".

Well, it turns out "just a mom" is exactly what I want to be and my son... well, he's only the most fascinating creature in the world!

I love that our days are filled with wonder and discovery and if he wakes up and decides that he most certainly does NOT want to wear pants today... well, he doesn't have to and we just don't leave the house. I love it when he beams at me from across the dinner table after we've just shared an inside joke and that he can't fall sleep until I kiss him goodnight. I love it when he laughs and even when he cries, because it means I can comfort him in my arms.

Sure, I still miss my old job now and again, especially as my son approaches the "terrible twos" with a fury. I've broken down and sobbed in frustration, fantasied about "this being daycare's problem right now", and even updated my resume (you know, just in case)... but overall, being my son's mom is the best job ever. I enjoy it so much that I would even do it if they didn't pay me... Oh, wait...

I thought that I would look upon this anniversary with more melancholy and despair, but actually... I'm really okay with it. I'm really, 100%, no-takesies-backsies OKAY with it. Yeah, I'm shocked, too.

Making the transition from pouring over monthly performance stats to pouring over books called Parenting with Love and Logic and The Happiest Toddler on the Block (just to name a few) hasn't always been smooth, but I'm just so grateful to make it to this milestone with the confidence that I made the right choice all along.

Sadly, there will be no diamond journey pendants or even a chocolate cake to mark the occasion, although I do have a blogiversary coming up. Feel free to send gifts and flowers to... haha!

Just kidding.