Having a cold, virus, sinus infection, respiratory infection, stomach bug is no fun. Ever. For anyone. It sucks. It sucks real bad. Many of us revert back to childhood behaviors. We start whining, grown ups all of a sudden loose the ability to care for ourselves, big burly men are found crying out for Mom. So, what do you do when you ARE the mom?
Being a sick stay at home mom is probably right up there on the sucky job list as sewer repair man or pig farm worker. With all the positives of this job, and there are many, there are some major downfalls as well. You are always on the clock. Always. 24/7. You don't get sick days. My sick days are essentially dialing back the cooking/cleaning/playing responsibilities to what's essential. Meaning, despite fever, body aches, snotty nose, incessant coughing, I am still making three meals plus snacks, cleaning up after all of them, and assuring at the very least the safety of the children in my keep. I do take my super mom cape off, hang it up, and replace it with the "I will do the bare minimum to get by" cape. But, the bare minimum for a SAHM is still quite a bit.
I've had a lot of practice being a sick mommy. With the medications I am on to treat rheumatoid arthritis, my immune system is severely weakened. So, pretty much any little bug or virus that comes in our house attacks me with three times the strength and longevity that it did the carrier. This current five day respiratory infection complete with total laryngitis is the direct result of Smaller Child's two day snotty nose. So, with all the practice I've had over the years, I am getting pretty good at disciplining with hand claps, snaps and stomps when I don't have a voice. Couch entertainment when I cannot get up, quiet games when my head is pounding.
Of course Beautiful Bald Husband is an awesome help when he's home in the evenings. He's more than willing to cook dinner, bathe the kiddos, and get them to bed. It is so awesome to have that kind of support and partnership in parenting. But the days are long, friends... the days are long.
It is all an act of letting go. Letting go of the idea that the house will be picked up, the dishes will be done, the kids won't spend more than an hour watching tv. They may or may not get bathed that day. The laundry won't get done... All those hard fast rules that I try so very hard to adhere to have to go out the window. I have to allow myself some slack... and if you know me, you know that ain't easy!
But guess what, when there is a sink full of dishes the world doesn't end. When the kids end up having to spend the majority of the day in their pj's watching television their brains don't actually turn to mush. We survive. All of us. (Though there are moments that I dramatically call out wishes that this doesn't happen.)
So, as I curl back up on the couch, with my box of Kleenex about to watch another episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I say to you this... wait, what was I going to say again? Oh well.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
(Not So Small)er Child
For nearly two years, the routine has been the same. Bath, bottle, book, bed. It is sweet connection. A time to cuddle, to snuggle, to love. It is followed by a gentle laying down in the crib, a tucking in, some tickles and kisses and expressions of love. This has been the bedtime schedule for Smaller Child. The type of bath, the type of milk, the type of book all may have changed some over the past two years, but the basics have been the same. It was the same for Larger Child.
Last night, it all changed.
Had I known that two nights ago might be my last time to put a BABY to bed, I may have done it differently. I may have savored the moments longer, cuddled a bit more, chosen a longer book. But, as it stands... I said goodbye to Baby EB without much ceremony. Maybe it is better that way. Now I won't have to worry that I somehow scarred him with weeping over a bottle! Regardless, when I went to bed last night realizing that I had put SC to bed without a bottle, and in a "big boy bed" and not a crib, I couldn't help but feel a lump in my throat.
We had decided earlier this week that we needed to convert the crib into a toddler bed soon. We had a vacation coming up, and thought it might be helpful to get him use to sleeping in a real bed so we didn't have to cram his behemoth body into a pack in play for a week. (We have Viking children.) But, it kind of just happened on a whim yesterday. Maybe sooner than I was really prepared for. He was thrilled to see he had a new toy to play on though! I was thrilled that he seemed to take to it so well. (That is until it was actually time for bed.)
When bedtime came around, I casually mentioned to BBH that we will also need to eventually consider cutting out the bedtime bottle. He agreed, and we both sort of suggested that maybe tonight was the night. First night in the big boy bed, might be a good distraction... he may not even realize we missed the bottle. We got him in his jammies, and took him to bed. I laid him down, covered him up, and gave him a kiss goodnight. Then I stopped. I couldn't just LEAVE. So, I grabbed a book, and sat down beside the bed to read to him. He seemed okay with all of this, a little nervous, but okay. Then it was lights out.... and tears. I think he is not much different from most toddlers. Big changes are scary, and need some nurturing, patience, and breaking in. I laid on the floor next to him, stroking his head, letting him know it was okay. He calmed down some. Daddy came in, and took a shift too. Within maybe twenty minutes, he was quiet and alone in the big boy bed, nodding off to dreamland. There he spent the entire night, without a peep. I heard him just before six this morning, and when I went to check on him, he was asleep on the floor. Not positive of the details, but I picked him back up, put him back in bed, and he slept for another hour undisturbed.
When did my Little Bitty become not so little? (Though, I suppose technically he has never been too terribly little to begin with!) HOW on EARTH is time moving so fast? This guy, who it seems just yesterday was a wriggling little foreign body in my uterus, is now nearly potty trained, feeding himself, sleeping in a big boy bed, walking, talking, self sufficient human! It is too fast. I feel like even though I am home with him every day, I'm somehow missing it. He's the last of the McQueen Vikings. He is the last of the diapers, cribs, and bottles, and they are nearly gone as well. Don't get me wrong, part of me is grateful and relieved to see the end of bottle washing and diaper changing, but part of me... part of me already misses the sweet baby smell, the chub wrinkle on his thigh, the gummy grin. Our darling baby is now a little boy. Full fledged toddler.
Last night, it all changed.
Had I known that two nights ago might be my last time to put a BABY to bed, I may have done it differently. I may have savored the moments longer, cuddled a bit more, chosen a longer book. But, as it stands... I said goodbye to Baby EB without much ceremony. Maybe it is better that way. Now I won't have to worry that I somehow scarred him with weeping over a bottle! Regardless, when I went to bed last night realizing that I had put SC to bed without a bottle, and in a "big boy bed" and not a crib, I couldn't help but feel a lump in my throat.
We had decided earlier this week that we needed to convert the crib into a toddler bed soon. We had a vacation coming up, and thought it might be helpful to get him use to sleeping in a real bed so we didn't have to cram his behemoth body into a pack in play for a week. (We have Viking children.) But, it kind of just happened on a whim yesterday. Maybe sooner than I was really prepared for. He was thrilled to see he had a new toy to play on though! I was thrilled that he seemed to take to it so well. (That is until it was actually time for bed.)
When bedtime came around, I casually mentioned to BBH that we will also need to eventually consider cutting out the bedtime bottle. He agreed, and we both sort of suggested that maybe tonight was the night. First night in the big boy bed, might be a good distraction... he may not even realize we missed the bottle. We got him in his jammies, and took him to bed. I laid him down, covered him up, and gave him a kiss goodnight. Then I stopped. I couldn't just LEAVE. So, I grabbed a book, and sat down beside the bed to read to him. He seemed okay with all of this, a little nervous, but okay. Then it was lights out.... and tears. I think he is not much different from most toddlers. Big changes are scary, and need some nurturing, patience, and breaking in. I laid on the floor next to him, stroking his head, letting him know it was okay. He calmed down some. Daddy came in, and took a shift too. Within maybe twenty minutes, he was quiet and alone in the big boy bed, nodding off to dreamland. There he spent the entire night, without a peep. I heard him just before six this morning, and when I went to check on him, he was asleep on the floor. Not positive of the details, but I picked him back up, put him back in bed, and he slept for another hour undisturbed.
When did my Little Bitty become not so little? (Though, I suppose technically he has never been too terribly little to begin with!) HOW on EARTH is time moving so fast? This guy, who it seems just yesterday was a wriggling little foreign body in my uterus, is now nearly potty trained, feeding himself, sleeping in a big boy bed, walking, talking, self sufficient human! It is too fast. I feel like even though I am home with him every day, I'm somehow missing it. He's the last of the McQueen Vikings. He is the last of the diapers, cribs, and bottles, and they are nearly gone as well. Don't get me wrong, part of me is grateful and relieved to see the end of bottle washing and diaper changing, but part of me... part of me already misses the sweet baby smell, the chub wrinkle on his thigh, the gummy grin. Our darling baby is now a little boy. Full fledged toddler.
Monday, June 17, 2013
A True Father, a Real Dad
With the celebration of Father's Day, I have been thinking about the dads in my life. The ones I have met, the ones that I love, the ones that have raised me. What that word means, what that word means to me, what that word holds in the minds of others in this world. With these thoughts comes a lot of gratitude. With these thoughts comes the stark realization of how lucky I have been to have the examples of "dad" of "father" that I have had in my life.
My Daddy.
He is probably one of the most impressive and incredible examples of paternal love and adoration that I have ever seen. That is including all examples shown in movies, in literature, heck even in hallmark card commercials. My Daddy is (in my humble opinion) the bees knees, and the very BEST Daddy on the planet. I don't remember a single moment in my life that my Dad made me feel anything less than the very best/prettiest/smartest/most talented/funniest/most clever/cute girl on the planet. When they say that a child is the "apple of a daddy's eye" I knew what that meant. I could see that in my Daddy. He has made me feel that every.single.day.of.my.life. There has never been a millisecond go by that I have ever questioned that he was there for me for WHATEVER I needed him for.
When I was small, I remember so many times he would sit on the floor of my room and "eat" plastic food and drink from empty cups with me. He wouldn't hesitate to pick up a baby doll, or dress a Barbie. He took me on my first date to see the Icecapades. He took me to my first movie. He took me to my first dance. He taught me how to drive, with the patience of a SAINT. (I remember spending HOURS in the parking lot of what is now the Yukon library. I would get so frustrated, and he would teach me patience.) He suffered through HOURS of choir performances, ballet recitals, and competitions. No matter how BAD the performances were, he would hug me, usually have a flower for me, and tell me (with BEAMING eyes) how amazing I was and how proud he is of me. He put up with my insanity when I LOST my mind around the age of seventeen... hum... maybe more like sixteen. Fifteen? Poor Daddy. He taught me how to fish, pitch a tent, throw a ball. He knew these were things that girls could do too. He never put me in a "you can't do this because you're a girl" box. If there was ever a man that encouraged a daughter to do or be anything she wanted to be, it was him.
Daddy never killed a boyfriend, though I am sure there were a couple he would have liked to. Though, now that I think about it, he never got too friendly with them either. Hmm, interesting. (Hey, BBH, it only took you about ten years to be his pal! Way to go!) Ha! He knew when to give me tough love. (He still does.) He let me fall a few times, so I could learn to pick myself up. But, I knew his hands weren't far a way if I couldn't quite make it. There were a few times that he didn't pull any punches, and let me know that my decisions disappointed him. But, that's the thing. He would always make sure I knew it was the decision. He would never ever say that I was the disappointment. I have never once felt that from him.
He showed me what a REAL man was like. How a husband and father cares for his family. Puts them first. He showed me what true priorities are. He worked his butt off for us for years. But when he got home, he always had the energy to show us that we were number one.
That's my Daddy. That is what a "father" is to me.
When a girl grows up with that kind of love, when a girl grows up being the center of a man's heart, it leaves pretty big shoes for a husband to fill. And when a lanky, scruffy twenty one year old fresh off the bus from Seattle came into my life, I am not sure I looked at him and thought, "THAT man would make the best father to my children." I am pretty sure my thought was more like, "Who is THAT mysterious and delicious tall drink of interesting??" Thirteen years later, I see now that God saw much much more in that moment. And I thank Him every day for that.
My Husband, the father to my kids.
I wrote a blog once about the moment BBH became a father, how every fiber of his being seemed to change at that moment. This is true. It was a transformation like I have never seen before. It was (and still is) amazing to watch. It is devotion, in the purest truest sense of the word. He is incredible with those boys. Completely self-less. He is a partner in parenting. He is plugged in, engaged, interested, supportive, and completely completely smitten by both of them.
BBH's desire to be a good dad runs so deep in him that he often twists himself up with doubt. The thought that somehow he isn't doing enough, or the right thing, or too much creeps in to his head and it eats him up. The only reason for this kind of self examination is a true desire to do right. Otherwise he wouldn't care. He knows how powerful the role of "Dad" is, and he doesn't take that job lightly. He is so empathetic and patient with them. He adores each of them for their quarks, for the small things that makes them the little men that they are, and beyond that, he recognizes those small things and nurtures them in a way that only someone truly in tune with their children can. I so so so admire this, and strive to be more like him in this sense.
I couldn't even imagine a better partner in this craziness that is parenthood. I couldn't dream up a better father for my boys. He teaches them how to be men, how to be themselves, and how to do it all while loving God and family. He teaches them this by doing it himself. He teaches them how to be a good husband, how to be a good dad, how to be a respectable responsible productive member of society, he leads by an incredible strong and beautiful example. And he does it all while making us roar with laughter on a daily basis. This man... this is what it means to be "Dad."
Happy Father's Day to the two most incredible examples of fatherhood this world has ever seen. How on EARTH did I get so lucky to have you BOTH in my life?
My Daddy.
He is probably one of the most impressive and incredible examples of paternal love and adoration that I have ever seen. That is including all examples shown in movies, in literature, heck even in hallmark card commercials. My Daddy is (in my humble opinion) the bees knees, and the very BEST Daddy on the planet. I don't remember a single moment in my life that my Dad made me feel anything less than the very best/prettiest/smartest/most talented/funniest/most clever/cute girl on the planet. When they say that a child is the "apple of a daddy's eye" I knew what that meant. I could see that in my Daddy. He has made me feel that every.single.day.of.my.life. There has never been a millisecond go by that I have ever questioned that he was there for me for WHATEVER I needed him for.
When I was small, I remember so many times he would sit on the floor of my room and "eat" plastic food and drink from empty cups with me. He wouldn't hesitate to pick up a baby doll, or dress a Barbie. He took me on my first date to see the Icecapades. He took me to my first movie. He took me to my first dance. He taught me how to drive, with the patience of a SAINT. (I remember spending HOURS in the parking lot of what is now the Yukon library. I would get so frustrated, and he would teach me patience.) He suffered through HOURS of choir performances, ballet recitals, and competitions. No matter how BAD the performances were, he would hug me, usually have a flower for me, and tell me (with BEAMING eyes) how amazing I was and how proud he is of me. He put up with my insanity when I LOST my mind around the age of seventeen... hum... maybe more like sixteen. Fifteen? Poor Daddy. He taught me how to fish, pitch a tent, throw a ball. He knew these were things that girls could do too. He never put me in a "you can't do this because you're a girl" box. If there was ever a man that encouraged a daughter to do or be anything she wanted to be, it was him.
Daddy never killed a boyfriend, though I am sure there were a couple he would have liked to. Though, now that I think about it, he never got too friendly with them either. Hmm, interesting. (Hey, BBH, it only took you about ten years to be his pal! Way to go!) Ha! He knew when to give me tough love. (He still does.) He let me fall a few times, so I could learn to pick myself up. But, I knew his hands weren't far a way if I couldn't quite make it. There were a few times that he didn't pull any punches, and let me know that my decisions disappointed him. But, that's the thing. He would always make sure I knew it was the decision. He would never ever say that I was the disappointment. I have never once felt that from him.
He showed me what a REAL man was like. How a husband and father cares for his family. Puts them first. He showed me what true priorities are. He worked his butt off for us for years. But when he got home, he always had the energy to show us that we were number one.
That's my Daddy. That is what a "father" is to me.
When a girl grows up with that kind of love, when a girl grows up being the center of a man's heart, it leaves pretty big shoes for a husband to fill. And when a lanky, scruffy twenty one year old fresh off the bus from Seattle came into my life, I am not sure I looked at him and thought, "THAT man would make the best father to my children." I am pretty sure my thought was more like, "Who is THAT mysterious and delicious tall drink of interesting??" Thirteen years later, I see now that God saw much much more in that moment. And I thank Him every day for that.
My Husband, the father to my kids.
I wrote a blog once about the moment BBH became a father, how every fiber of his being seemed to change at that moment. This is true. It was a transformation like I have never seen before. It was (and still is) amazing to watch. It is devotion, in the purest truest sense of the word. He is incredible with those boys. Completely self-less. He is a partner in parenting. He is plugged in, engaged, interested, supportive, and completely completely smitten by both of them.
BBH's desire to be a good dad runs so deep in him that he often twists himself up with doubt. The thought that somehow he isn't doing enough, or the right thing, or too much creeps in to his head and it eats him up. The only reason for this kind of self examination is a true desire to do right. Otherwise he wouldn't care. He knows how powerful the role of "Dad" is, and he doesn't take that job lightly. He is so empathetic and patient with them. He adores each of them for their quarks, for the small things that makes them the little men that they are, and beyond that, he recognizes those small things and nurtures them in a way that only someone truly in tune with their children can. I so so so admire this, and strive to be more like him in this sense.
I couldn't even imagine a better partner in this craziness that is parenthood. I couldn't dream up a better father for my boys. He teaches them how to be men, how to be themselves, and how to do it all while loving God and family. He teaches them this by doing it himself. He teaches them how to be a good husband, how to be a good dad, how to be a respectable responsible productive member of society, he leads by an incredible strong and beautiful example. And he does it all while making us roar with laughter on a daily basis. This man... this is what it means to be "Dad."
Happy Father's Day to the two most incredible examples of fatherhood this world has ever seen. How on EARTH did I get so lucky to have you BOTH in my life?
Monday, June 10, 2013
Backyard Adventures
Well, it's summer time, ya'll! That means I am a full time Mommy of two active, energetic, and very very LOUD boys. 99% of the time I wouldn't have it any other way... okay, wait, in the interest of full disclosure and complete honesty, I would change that to about a 75%, there is a good portion of almost every single day that I am counting down the minutes till bedtime, or looking at the calendar to see just how many more weeks until school starts again. That's just me being real, yo! I love my boys, more than any thing else on the PLANET, but there are times.... there are times...
I have found one of the very best ways to increase that percentage is to spend a good portion of our day enjoying the good ol' outdoors. We have a fabulous backyard, and are blessed enough to have been able to furnish it with a super fun trampoline, and a schnazzy swing set, but it seems to me that after they clock about five to ten minutes on the expensive equipment, they are ready to move on to something else. It also seems to me that they find the most enjoyment out of the simple things, the things that have stood the test of time, the things that I played with as a child, and many generations before me as well. Add to that the occasional visitor to our well populated back yard, and you've got the makings of a pretty great Huckleberry Finn type summer!
So far this month we had the pleasure to meet a backyard critter that probably wouldn't have made the parent's top ten list, but the boys sure enjoyed him. Larger Child and I were in the yard making a bug habitat. He had made a pretty great home, and we were just looking for the perfect bug. That is when I noticed Smaller Child and Olivia playing with something in the grass. SC kept laughing really hard, and Olivia would run off. That's when I noticed something hanging out of her mouth. It was a snake. Joy.
Luckily, it was a small ringneck... and it happened to survive the mauling. Larger Child begged me to allow him to put it in the bug habitat, and being the sucker I am, agreed. Thus our family pet, Craig, entered our world.
He was a lot better than the other snake we found this month... this guy was in the street. He was probably close to three feet long. No amount of begging and puppy dog eyes would convince me to keep that monster.
I told LC that the one stipulation would be that he had to remain outside. He agreed, and Craig lived on our patio table in the aquarium for about a week. That was when I went out there one morning to find the tank empty, and Craig no where to be seen. I had to break the news to my broken hearted child, I assumed that a raccoon probably got in to the tank... but he said that maybe Craig escaped and had reunited with his family somewhere. Yeah, lets go with that.
Later that night, I was on the porch watching the storms roll in when Olivia had something under the picnic table. Yeah, you guessed it. Craig did escape, but he didn't make it far. Poor guy. LC still doesn't know about that part.
The next week on a walk down to the mailbox, I found this guy!
Learning from my previous lesson in reptilian pets, I told LC that we could NOT keep this guy. He needed to stay in his home, and we would just find a safe place to put him. After a good five or ten minutes of admiration and "awwwwwes" we let him go.
Now, not all the critters we find in and around our house are so cute...
I'm just saying... (shiver)
Now, back to the story at hand... despite (or perhaps because of) the creepy crawlies and the cold blooded friends, the boys do spend a good portion of their day outside. Today, we decided to drag out the plastic kiddie pool and play.
A day of fun, sun, and splashin (and no snakes, or spiders. Though we did get bombed by a couple wasps.) Every day is an adventure in our backyard! Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings... then again, maybe I can.
I have found one of the very best ways to increase that percentage is to spend a good portion of our day enjoying the good ol' outdoors. We have a fabulous backyard, and are blessed enough to have been able to furnish it with a super fun trampoline, and a schnazzy swing set, but it seems to me that after they clock about five to ten minutes on the expensive equipment, they are ready to move on to something else. It also seems to me that they find the most enjoyment out of the simple things, the things that have stood the test of time, the things that I played with as a child, and many generations before me as well. Add to that the occasional visitor to our well populated back yard, and you've got the makings of a pretty great Huckleberry Finn type summer!
So far this month we had the pleasure to meet a backyard critter that probably wouldn't have made the parent's top ten list, but the boys sure enjoyed him. Larger Child and I were in the yard making a bug habitat. He had made a pretty great home, and we were just looking for the perfect bug. That is when I noticed Smaller Child and Olivia playing with something in the grass. SC kept laughing really hard, and Olivia would run off. That's when I noticed something hanging out of her mouth. It was a snake. Joy.
Luckily, it was a small ringneck... and it happened to survive the mauling. Larger Child begged me to allow him to put it in the bug habitat, and being the sucker I am, agreed. Thus our family pet, Craig, entered our world.
I told LC that the one stipulation would be that he had to remain outside. He agreed, and Craig lived on our patio table in the aquarium for about a week. That was when I went out there one morning to find the tank empty, and Craig no where to be seen. I had to break the news to my broken hearted child, I assumed that a raccoon probably got in to the tank... but he said that maybe Craig escaped and had reunited with his family somewhere. Yeah, lets go with that.
Later that night, I was on the porch watching the storms roll in when Olivia had something under the picnic table. Yeah, you guessed it. Craig did escape, but he didn't make it far. Poor guy. LC still doesn't know about that part.
The next week on a walk down to the mailbox, I found this guy!
Learning from my previous lesson in reptilian pets, I told LC that we could NOT keep this guy. He needed to stay in his home, and we would just find a safe place to put him. After a good five or ten minutes of admiration and "awwwwwes" we let him go.
Now, not all the critters we find in and around our house are so cute...
Now, back to the story at hand... despite (or perhaps because of) the creepy crawlies and the cold blooded friends, the boys do spend a good portion of their day outside. Today, we decided to drag out the plastic kiddie pool and play.
 |
| If that's not "joy" I don't know what is. |
 |
| throw in a silly sprinkler, just for kicks |
 |
| and of course, it turns in to a gun |
 |
| gaaah, they are just too handsome |
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