never too late to say i'm sorry

Was I bullied? Maybe. But not really. I don’t know.

Me, probably my junior year of high school.

I was different. My family was Pentecostal – full blown Pentecostal with the long skirts, long hair, no make up or earrings, the whole kit and caboodle. That’s how I was raised. My parents were strong in their faith and we followed the Pentecostal standards. For the most part, I don’t remember many people being mean to me directly, but at the same time, I didn’t have loads of friends at my public school from age 12 or 13 and up. The friends that I had were outsiders, with the exception of a few. The only thing we all had in common is that we didn’t fit in with the majority of our peers. I was the furthest thing from “popular.” I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be like every other girl who painted her nails, wore jeans, and had her hair cut into those phenomenal Jennifer Aniston layers. I longed to play sports or an instrument and have some sort of place I fit in. I wanted a boy at school to like me. To ask me to be his girlfriend. Never happened. Not once. I learned to shrink and become invisible. Unnoticeable. To blend in with the background. 

Almost a year ago, I got a private message on Facebook from one of my former middle and high school classmates. She was more than a classmate at one time. In 6^th and 7^th grade, we were the very best of friends. We shared a seat on the school bus, sleepovers, and secrets. We were inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

Until all the sudden, we just weren't anymore.

 As if it were yesterday, I vividly remember approaching her in the middle school cafeteria to ask if I could sit with her, after feeling an awkward tension between us for a couple of weeks. She told me no, because someone else was going to sit there. I mustered up every ounce of confidence I had and asked, “are you mad at me?” She answered with 7 words that would haunt me for years.

“No. I just don’t like you anymore.”

 Right there in the cafeteria, in front of our peers, my heart broke into a million pieces. If I remember correctly, she had made the cheerleading team and clearly my companionship was easily replaced by a set of newer, cooler friends. I observed from the sidelines as she became more popular throughout the rest of our school years with the “in” crowd. Boyfriends, homecoming dances, prom. All normal things that high schoolers do. I was jealous. Bitter. I was an outcast at school. I’m not saying that I never had fun and never had any other friends. Because I did. I met the girl who is still my best friend when I was in 9^th grade. Our friendship has matured and grown with us. 

My best friend Emily (left) and me in 1994.

And in 2013.

But for the most part, high school was not a pleasant time for me. It did nothing to build my confidence, which I continue to struggle with today. I can recall the names of a few popular students who were kind to me. They were few and far between but I remember a handful of specific incidents in which popular girls were nice to me. It made me feel so special at the time. It seems silly now that my self-worth hinged on such seemingly insignificant interactions.

Did I ever tell anyone what happened in the lunch room? No, not until recently. How do you tell your parents, "I feel like a loser, no one thinks I'm cool." I don't know if I could have even put my feelings into words at that time. My social life improved when I made friends at the new Apostolic church our family began attending. There were plenty of teenagers my age and I finally found a social group where I was ordinary instead of odd, but I still struggled to fit in at school.

Last May this girl that rejected me in middle school reached out to me. She said God had spoken to her heart and told her to apologize to me. That she knew she had been cruel and had been using the “kids are mean” excuse to justify her actions so many years ago. That she should have apologized sooner. That she knew she missed out on the blessing of my friendship (her words, not mine). That she made the decision to end our friendship out of selfishness and not as the result of anything I did. That she was so sorry. I sincerely appreciated and accepted her apology with tears in my eyes. And I did it while re-experiencing every emotion I’d known as that timid middle school girl standing in front of her, trying to hold on to my blue divided lunch tray as much as I was trying to hold on to my dignity.

A woman that I met as an adult before we had babies told me today that I was one of the first true friends that she’d ever had because I never hurt or used her or brushed her off like others had. That began a conversation about “kids are mean” and we shared past experiences. How these mean kids turn into adults… some continue to be mean, oblivious to the impact of their actions. Some figure it out and try to make things right. Regardless, we are now becoming the adults who are shaping our world. We talked about how apologies, even years later, are meaningful and a good indication of whether or not people ever truly change.

What I went through was not that severe. I realize teens go through much, much worse. Kids are still mean and, years later, I can still feel that pain and self-doubt if I allow it to creep in. Our experiences, good and bad, shape us into who we become. How we approach life and do our jobs. Parent our kids. Interact with strangers. The thought of my children experiencing that kind of angst breaks my heart, but I know I have to let them feel it. I hope it helps them grow, not shrink. I have to let them accept disappointment as children so they can adapt. Disappointments only get bigger and have deeper consequences as we get older.

I hope they are nice to others. I hope someone remembers them for their kindness one day. And I hope they are humble enough to say they’re sorry for their mistakes when they should.

I said all that to say this: If you feel guilty about the way you treated someone and you've held on to that guilt, the recipient of your actions probably held on to the feelings they had about it too.  Whenever it happened, whatever it was, man (or woman) up and say you're sorry. It’s never too late to apologize.

~C~

filed under: most embarrassing moment #37,428

Once I peed in my oldest kid’s sippy cup.

Then I lost him at the mall.

Now I’ve taught him bad words. Oh, and you can add "dropping his little brother on the concrete sidewalk" to the list of reasons why I win Best All-Around Mom.  

Picture it. Easter Weekend. 2014. 

(Real quick and then I’ll get to the point -- did you ever watch Golden Girls? Do you remember when Sophia used to say “Picture it. Sicily. 1923” or some other year before telling stories about when she was young? No?  Right. Just me then? Okay…that’s what I figured anyway). 

We visited Ryan's sister in Cincinnati for the weekend.  We were walking through Newport on the Levee and I was carrying Dexter because he was still tired after napping in the car.  We were on a mission. We were hungry. We were ready and excited to eat lunch at Tom+Chee (have you been? LOVE).

This lady (me) trips and goes flying through the air (not really, I kind of vaguely remember my feet going into auto-pilot, shuffling on the ground as I attempted to save myself and my baby son). My thought process was something like “I’m falling I’m falling wait maybe I’m catching myself no I’m for sure falling…” before there was a big SPLAT.

Next thing I know, I am lying on top of Dexter on the sidewalk and our group, who was walking ahead of me, turns around and starts saying things – I’m guessing along the lines of “are you okay?” but I really don't recall specifics. I sat up and picked up Dexter, who was screaming, sure that he had a broken bone or massive bleed but there were no signs of injury.  I was in shock and pain and stood up, quickly looking at my camera to see if it was destroyed. It also appeared fine.  What wasn’t fine, however, was the fiery sensation coming from my left hand and both knees.  My knees were bloodied but we couldn’t just stop moving so we found a bench that was coincidentally in front of Tom+Chee (which was closed for remodeling for THREE days – why? Why, why, why on Easter weekend? Why on any weekend? Why on the only weekend I was in town and wanted to go there?).  I sat down and fell again - only this time it was into a deep well of self-pity. I wanted to cry, it hurt so bad. Ryan came back with some wet paper towels to blot the dirt and blood.

Theo. Sweet, innocent, little bitty baby Theo (okay, okay. I know he’s 4 – shut up. He’s still little). He was concerned about his injured mama. He came over to me and squatted down in front of me, wincing. Looking over my boo boos with great care not to get to close or touch them. Then he said it. Sooo softly, he said it.

“F*ck, mommy.”

Hmm? I said “WHAT?!”

He shook his head no and said “nothing! I didn’t say anything.”

I looked at Ryan and he shook his head as well. “He didn’t hear that from me!”

I looked at Theo again. Gently, I asked, “where did you hear that?  It’s okay. I’m not mad. I was just wondering where you heard that.”

He looked at me and ever so quietly again said, “from you, mommy.”  ~insert shock and horror on my face here~ He continued, “when you fell,” pointing to my knees.

WHOOPS.

Well shit. I mean, "jumping jellyfish" or something else more appropriate. Apparently I say bad words when I go flying through the air, drop my baby, and then land on top of him, while injuring myself in the process.

Whatever. I didn’t mean to. SO that whole lunch episode was pretty much a bust (literally, snort snort). End of story.  And that's the tale of how I taught my 4 year old the F-bomb.

With that out of the way, it’s time for some reflection to ponder the remarkable, innate, motherly instinct within.  It is mind-boggling to me that Dexter did not have a single scratch on him. I don’t think I’m some sort of super-mom or anything, but in the midst of that chaos, clearly my natural instinct was to protect him. I don’t remember thinking anything along the lines of protecting him (apparently it was just “oh f*ck I’m falling and holding Dexter and these things are happening simultaneously) but I did.  How did I not slam his head on the concrete when I fell and landed on top of him?  I DON’T KNOW, other than adrenaline and natural instinct kicked in. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around that. I wish I could replay the whole 3 second debacle over and over to see what my body did in that situation while my mind was in panic mode. Oddly enough, it makes me more confident in my mothering abilities. It makes me feel like more of a mama bear than I already did.  I freakin’ excel under pressure. 

Well – aside from that whole language thing that I should probably work on.

xo,

~C~

my big four year old boy

Dear Theo, 

My big four year old boy. 

Your birthday was yesterday and it was a fantastic day for you and our whole family.  Some of our dearest friends came over to celebrate you on your special day. 

Grammy and I were so busy getting ready for your party that I didn't spend much time thinking about life four years ago. I've done more of that today, the day after your birthday. I've been picturing your dad and I at the hospital, brand new parents to this brand new beautiful baby boy.  The entire four years have been an adventure. You've surprised us in small and huge ways along this path and I have no doubt that your journey from four to five will be just as remarkable.

Four!  Four sounds like such a long time.  High school lasts four years.  A bachelor's degree takes four years.  A presidential term is four years.  Olympics are every four years.  Many amazing things happen in increments of four years.  Four is officially a kid - there's nothing baby about you anymore.  You have been diaper free for months. You stopped sucking your thumb cold turkey, because you said it was time. You are starting to sound out letters.  You can dress yourself from head to toe.  You have manners and know how and when to use them (even if you don't sometimes). You love reading stories and playing games. You also enjoy watching movies at the theater and at home.  You've been to Disney World and bring up memories from our vacation often. Your favorite thing in the world is Legos.

You have a great appetite and enjoy a wide variety of healthy AND junk foods.  We call you "Green Eggs & Ham" sometimes because when you come to the table you often turn up your nose and say "I am NOT eating that!" But 9 times out of 10, within moments of trying the first bite, your plate is clean and you are saying "Mommy! Next time you make dinner, you should make this again!"  

You are creative and bright and bossy at times. Stubborn to a fault but you know exactly what you want. When you decide you are ready to do something, there's no going back. You are sweet and shy and unsure of yourself.  You love hugs and kisses and our goodnight routine.  You know you have our undivided attention and you like to draaaag that out as long as possible. But Theo? 

I will read the extra story. I will play the extra round of Curious George Matching or Sneaky Snacky Squirrel. I will get you one last sip of water.  I will sing the extra song. I will brush your teeth a little longer and hug you a little tighter. You're on your way to being five now.  BUT. That's okay - I'm all too aware that it won't always be like this. Today...for now, you're just four.  My little, big four year old boy.  And I'm gonna hold on tight and fly through this year right beside you. 

I love you so much. 

xo,

Mommy

the winter games: how things have changed

As the 2014 Olympics draw near, I can't help but feel a little sentimental about where we were in life when we watched the last winter games.  For one thing, they took place in Vancouver and we had recently visited there during our Alaskan cruise.  Watching the games brought back so many memories of that special trip.

Babies. We were just babies!

Zip-lining in Icy Strait Point.

Capilano Suspension Bridge Park - Vancouver

Got sidetracked...but it's fun looking back at our old photos.  Anyway.... I love the winter games.  I remember sitting on the couch in our old house watching the games all day, all weekend on DVR -- and feeling absolutely miserable!  Because I was 8+ months pregnant with baby Theo.  Thinking back, life was so unbelievably different then.  I could lay down and nap whenever I felt tired.  Ryan and I could enjoy a quiet dinner at a restaurant.  We could even eat our food at our own pace, and while it was still hot. What!?  We even had extra money for trips, new clothes, or going to the movies.  We were expectant parents.

Feb 2010

We had no clue what we were getting ourselves into but we were ready to dive in headfirst.  I remember that time in our lives fondly. So much anticipation and excitement.  Expectations and questions.  We didn't know how to take care of a baby, but we sure trusted ourselves and each other to figure it out. And that we did.  

Little did we know that 15 months later we'd have TWO babies.  Little did we know that a brown haired, brown eyed boy and a blonde haired blue eyed boy would consume our hearts and lives.  We didn't understand that eating a quiet, hot dinner at a restaurant was an absolute luxury. Or a full night's sleep, for that matter. We didn't know what exhaustion was.  Or how full our hearts could feel or how big they could grow. 

I look at this picture and see a girl.  She looks young and naive and hopeful.  I look at baby pictures of the boys and think about how quickly their babyhood has flown by.  At the start of the 2010 winter games, I had 0 children.  Now I have two kids.  Not even babies anymore.  Over the weekend we sold their double stroller and gave away several other baby gear items.  Our house is looking less and less like a place where babies live. Legos and puzzles and books have replaced swings and bottle warmers and rattles.  The girl in the picture only ever imagined holding a sweet baby and having heart to heart conversations with her teenage son.  She didn't realize that there's so much in between.  That she'd pull her hair out and cry out of frustration sometimes.  She didn't realize that by the time the next winter games rolled around, her babies wouldn't be babies anymore.

That's me in the picture, but it's not.  The boys will be old enough to understand and enjoy parts of the winter games this time around.  It's mind-boggling and exciting.  We're moving into such a good stage with our kids right now.  They are still little, I'm acutely aware of this, yet they are growing more independent. They can entertain themselves and each other.  We don't have to worry about their safety every second that they are out of our sight anymore.  It's just interesting to me - time has this way of constantly blowing my mind. 

xo,
~C~

restarting the clock.

Failed.

I know everyone slips up, but I feel like a failure... again.  I made it exactly a month without yelling and it felt great.  Now I remember why I wanted to stop - this is a sad, pathetic feeling.  So by January 7, I'd already messed up on my most important resolution.

I'm certainly not trying to justify it, but I want to remember it.  I want to remember the way I felt afterwards for inspiration to do better next time. It was our fourth day of being snowed in, which in itself was not a bad thing. We've had plenty of toys and games and movies to keep busy.  Plenty of food eat and no reason to brave the scary roads or arctic temps.

Things took a turn for the worse yesterday when the boys refused to take a nap. They just played and goofed off in their room for 2 hours. By that point it was already almost 3pm so I wanted to keep them up for a decent bedtime since it's back to real life today. By 5:30, Dexter was asking for warm milk (which means he thinks it's bedtime). He was falling apart at the seams. Theo was fine until we turned his movie off and transitioned to the library for story time.  He chose a huge Marvel encyclopedia and had Ryan talking to him about different characters for 10 minutes while I read two books to Dex.  By the time we finished up, Theo had decided the Marvel book was "boring" and wanted to choose two new books.

Uh uh.

No.

We told him he could choose one other book, but that he'd made his first choice and was not bored with it for 10 minutes so that counted as one of his picks.  He started crying immediately, whining that he didn't like it and that it was boring. We said ONE BOOK. He said two. One. TWO! And so on.  Finally it turned into us saying zero books, at which point he really lost it.  We ushered him towards his bedroom and bathroom to start brushing teeth, etc. and he ran into his room and started hitting a canvas picture on his wall. I raised my voice and said "Stop!" out of caution and alarm but he continued. The picture fell off of the wall and hit him on top of his head (don't freak out, it weighs a few ounces). It startled him but didn't hurt him.  I grabbed it as it was falling and put it back up on the wall.  I picked Theo up by his armpits and carried him down the hall to the chair in the corner. Sternly but calmly, I said "Time out for hitting your picture!" and sat him in the chair. I turned my back to set the timer and before I could turn back around, I heard things falling over the sound of his screaming. He was standing on the chair, pulling papers and pins off of the bulletin board.

That was it. I don't know why that set me off. I don't know why that put me over the edge. I don't know why I snapped. But I did.

I'm not even 100% sure what I said. All I know was that I was in his face, shouting, and I couldn't stop myself. I didn't even think about not yelling or try to prevent it.  I'm sure there are a million things I could have done differently, like just let him have the dumb 2nd book from the get-go.  But that's what I did.  I got in my little boy's face and yelled at him. Because I'm bigger than he is. Because he made me mad. Because I can't manage my own emotions when I'm tired... yet I expected him to.

Fail, fail, fail, fail.

Normally when he's in time out, we will start the timer and walk away so we are not giving him attention, but I knew I couldn't trust him.  I stood and watched him (towering over him of course -- why, why, why didn't I just sit down?). He cried. He begged for 1 story. He said he was so sorry.  He begged me, "talk to me, mommy! Why won't you talk to me?"  But I remained silent.  I waited for the timer to buzz and asked him why he was in time out.  He didn't even remember. He said "because I said no."  I explained to him why he went to time out and why his behavior was dangerous.  He continued crying throughout tooth brushing and getting into bed.  He cried while I sang Dexter 4 bedtime songs and declined when I offered to sing him songs as well.  He cried that he wanted to sleep with us.  We told him we were not ready to go to bed.  He said he didn't care and that he just wanted to sleep in our bed.

This is when the gut-wrenching "what do I do" thoughts crept in.  Is he crying now because he's still tired? Because I broke his heart? Because he's scared (from the movie he watched)? Is it a stalling tactic to stay up longer? Is it attention-seeking?  Would it help or hurt us in the future if we give in?

I kissed him and told him goodnight and left the room.  Ryan stayed and talked to him a little longer but the crying continued.  Ryan came out and it wasn't long before we heard through the monitor "daaaa-deeeee! Daaaaa-deeeeeee!"  Ryan went back and laid with him until he fell asleep. Compromise I guess.

I shed a few tears.  I feel really sad and guilty about it. I'm disappointed in myself not only for yelling, but for only making it one month without yelling and only 7 days into 2014.  I'm moving on. Today is a new day.  Today I will not yell.  I will review my alternatives to yelling and try something new when I begin to feel frustrated. Every day is a learning opportunity.

The Orange Rhino says:

Changing is hard.
Not yelling is hard.
Making a promise to do the above, is hard.
Mistakes will happen.
Moving forward and achieving my goal will only be harder if I don’t forgive myself along the way; if I don’t love myself along the way.
So love myself more, forgive myself more, I will.

~C~

it was a circus, alright.

I got an email back in July offering advanced ticket sales for the circus, which was in town this past weekend.  As December grew closer, I began looking forward to taking the boys to the circus and watching their faces light up with each act, more fascinating than the one before. 

Saturday morning rolled around and Ryan and I briefly discussed how to tell them about the circus without putting much thought into it. We agreed to simply say that we had a fun surprise for them. Instantly, they were excited. They cooperated through the process of everything that has to be done to just get out of the door and we were on our way by 10am.  During the short drive downtown, Theo asked repeatedly what the surprise was.  "Is it a toy?"  "Is it a Lego?" "Are we going to a store?"  "Are you taking us to the Lego store?"  We answered "no, this is a different kind of surprise - a show."

When we arrived at the arena, Theo asked what this place was called. I told him and he said "I hate this place."

Ohhh. Kaaaay.  Cool.

They were of course captivated by all the obnoxious toys and other overpriced sundries around every corner. We found our seats and started right off with some very affordable (no, I'm kidding) cotton candy.  I thought this would cheer Theo up and get him in the mood for the show.  Once the show started, it held their attention for moments at a time.  For the most part though, Theo asked every few minutes if it was over, if it was time to go, or if we could go home yet.

One of very few photos taken at the circ-tastrophe.

Dexter watched more of the show than Theo did. I feel like Dexter watched more of the show than I did. I was either taking someone to the bathroom or trying to manage someone's embarrassing/ungrateful/obnoxious behaviors.  Total fail.  Complete disappointment.

I wasn't the only one that felt that way.  In the car, Theo started whining and complaining about every little thing.  It was only a matter of time before he started directing his mood at Dexter.  I take issue with this because it happens all too often and Dexter is undeserving 95% of the time.  Theo was calling Dexter mean names and Dexter was starting to complain and whine too.

I couldn't even tell you how many times we asked Theo nicely to stop before he flipped our switches and Ryan and I both SNAPPED.  I yelled at him.  Ryan yelled at him.  He was crying and yelling, Dexter was crying and yelling.  Ryan told him not to say another word the rest of the way home (maybe 5 minutes tops) and he continued to scream "I WANNA TALK!!"  By this point every one of us was upset.

We got the boys inside and eventually to bed for their naps.  I leaned against the counter in the kitchen and cried into my hands.  What a failure.  The circus. This day. This parenting.  It's far from daily, or even weekly, that I freak out and yell at my kids but when I do, I hate myself for it.  I know it happens. I know it's pretty normal. I also feel disgusted and guilty about it.  How can I expect them to express themselves appropriately when I am screaming at the top of my lungs in an attempt to get my point across?

As they slept, I started thinking.  My Mother-in-Law texted me to ask how they liked it.  I explained that they (mainly Theo) were not as impressed as we'd hoped.  That he must have thought "surprise" meant something else. A toy. A new Lego.  She said my nephew Spencer was the same way around that age and thought he was getting a Thomas the Train car if someone said "surprise."  At that moment I realized that some simple thought and explanation could have done two things: 1 - Prepared them for what we were getting ready to do and 2 - Prevented this whole, big, dumb, stupid mess.

I read an article maybe 6-8 weeks ago that has stuck with me.  Someone had posted it on Facebook. The title caught my attention and has remained in my mind ever since then. 10 Things I Learned When I Stopped Yelling At My Kids. Please take a moment and read it if you haven't already. I can relate to so many of the bullet points that this author shares.

After the circus fiasco, not much time passed before I witnessed a father yelling at his daughter for breaking a glass at our mutual friend's party.  He didn't really "flip out," for lack of a better term, but it was enough to give me that bad, sad feeling in my stomach.  My instant mental reaction was "hey dude, I know that you're embarrassed that she did that but she's just a kid, she's your baby girl - and you sound a little scary right now."  PAUSE.  Reality punched my face.  Yeah.  If I thought he was a little scary, then what in all hell do my kids think when I unleash my frustration on them in the form of yelling ... when no one else is watching?

Holy crap.

I can stop yelling.  I know I can.  I don't yell at them in public. I want strangers to believe that I'm a loving mom. I don't yell at them in front of my friends.  I want my friends to believe that I'm a loving mom. The boys sure don't stop pissing me off in public or in front of my friends, so I've figured out some coping skill to refrain from showing my poor parenting choice when I have an audience. I want to be that loving mom when it's super hard and my only audience is my most important audience - my boys.  I don't scream at adults when they upset me.  Why do I think it's okay to let my emotions run rampant on my own flesh and blood - precious, tiny little humans that I chose to willingly and lovingly bring into this world?  Puke...I can't do it anymore.

All else taken into consideration - yelling doesn't help.  If the kids are yelling, me joining in only escalates the situation.

I want to stop yelling.  I have to stop yelling.  I will stop yelling. I'm making it my biggest priority in 2014.  I will make it 365 days without screaming at my kids.  Join me?

xo,
~C~

the obligatory thankful post

In lieu of annoying you with one thing I'm thankful for every day for a month, I really tried hard to think of one thing that I am most thankful for.  It's impossible.  Every time I try to think of something, it just seems so obvious and cliche.  So I tried to think of what I have that would be devastating to lose...that's also pretty much everything.  Not things like hot mocha choca vanilla soy grande lattes - those I could live without.

Food on my table.  What would it be like if I had to worry about where my kids' next meal would come from?

A roof over my head.  What would it be like if I had to worry about where we were going to sleep tonight?

My kids.  What would it be like if I just had to remember what life was like with them?  Or wonder what life would be like if I'd been able to have kids?

My husband.  A partner in this crazy life. What would life be like without this man to hug and co-parent with and confide in at the end of every day?

My family and in-laws. What in the world would life be like if our family gatherings were full of drama and tension?  I've been so fortunate with my family of origin as well as the one I was lucky enough to marry into.

My job.  I know all too well what it was like to have to leave to go to work on Thanksgiving.  Sad!  I am happy to have a job that not only do I enjoy, but one where I feel appreciated.  My agency is generous enough to pay me to spend time with my wonderful family.  Aside from that, I'm lucky that we don't have to worry if we have enough money to take our kids to the doctor. Or if we have to decide between that and buying groceries. Or paying the light bill.  In this day and age, I'm just thankful for my job.  Everything else is icing on the cake.

I'm just thankful. No one's life is perfect, but when I think about how much worse it could be, I'm thankful. I forgot to mention, my health. The health of my family members.  I have no idea what it would be like if myself or one of my kids were fighting a life-threatening or disabling illness.  Thankful.

My little turkeys had fun decorating cupcakes with Nana, Spencer, and Aunt Chelle.

hope your weekend was great,
~C~

feelings

It's been a long time since I wrote much about parenting.  About my babies.  My kids.  They are hardly babies anymore, but they are.  Still.  I've had a heart bursting with feelings and a head full of thoughts.  I don't know how to organize it into anything meaningful on this blog anymore.  I can post pictures and recap our fun adventures, but that's not all there is to it, is it?  There's this feeling, this tug at my heart.  Maybe it's the weather.  Maybe because vacation's over.  Maybe it's because I haven't taken a picture on my DSLR since we got home.  Maybe because I just don't know what to say sometimes.  I don't know - I feel like I'm missing something. Or that I'm going to miss something. Do you ever feel that way?

Theo.  Theo is so big now.  So smart.  He is starting to understand things that are more complex.  I can reason with him sometimes, where Dexter is the exact opposite.  Theo knows how and when to use his manners.  He thinks ahead.  He was using the bathroom the other night and while pondering life, sitting on the potty, he flicked the loose side of a bandaid on his thigh repeatedly, mumbling under his breath.  He'd gotten his flu shot earlier.  He didn't want me in the bathroom so I was kind of hanging around in the hallway and caught this glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, looking so grown up.  I stopped and listened to him grumble "I'm never getting another stupid flu shot again."  Automatically, my bad-word radar went off and I said "What'd you say!?"  He looked up like a deer in headlights and said, "nothing! I said I'm not getting another flu shot."  He knew he'd been caught.

And this silly, simple moment became something bigger to me.  My kid, who was so brave for his flu shot, was so ticked off about it 12 hours later that he was "cursing" (for all he knows) under his breath about it when he thought I wasn't around.  But he knew that he couldn't kiss his mom with that dirty mouth, so you better believe he cleaned up his language when pressed about it.  He says please. He says thank you.  Granted, he doesn't do it all the time but at least I've taught him something, dammit.  Some common courtesy. 

I love him.

Sometimes I just look at his innocent face in the rearview mirror while he's looking outside and feel this swelling sensation inside.  Time is flying by.  I think about how small he was when we brought him home.  I think about his extensive vocabulary now and how he's telling stories and jokes (bad jokes, and he doesn't really understand the whole punchline thing, but still).  And I think about how he still asks me to sing to him at bedtime, like I did when he was just a few months old.  I think about how he still sucks his thumb when he's tired.  Sometimes I yell at him and wish I hadn't.  I am becoming painfully aware that you only get one chance to raise your kids and it flies by. 

Dexter.  My little blonde bear.  He's such a busy body. He's becoming such a big boy too.  He looks up to Theo in every way, but he's so different from him.  He's not a deep thinker like Theo.  He blows whichever way the wind does.  He doesn't stop moving long enough to process things.  He's sweet. He's loving. He carries stuffed animals around like they're babies.  His language is also expanding rapidly.  He doesn't like the dinosaur costume I bought him for Halloween so I asked a friend about borrowing an old costume of theirs, a Donald Duck.  When I asked Dexter if he'd like to be Donald Duck for Halloween, he said "Ummmm, probably I'm gonna be Goofy."  Ha.  He is goofy. 

I love him.

What he doesn't know is that I would do anything in the world for him.  That he'd probably get whatever he wanted if he just asked with one of his big bear hugs.  Sometimes after he falls alseep in his big boy bed, I go into their room to make sure they are covered up.  Just to stare at my boys for a few more seconds that day.  Because I know they will never be this young again.  Soon enough, they'll spend the night with a friend.  Before I know it, they'll be on their own.  They won't need me to brush their teeth.  Dexter wore underwear to a restaurant for the first time this week. No accidents.  My big boys are getting bigger.  They're still so little, but not as little as they once were.  It's kind of sad.  I will touch their faces and kiss their heads and pick them up and carry them around for as long as they'll let me and as long a I am physically able.  They'll be bigger than me in no time at all. 

Man, I love them.  No one tells you that motherhood is about one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking things you'll ever do. 

xo,
~C~

these last two weekends

This past weekend, my mom visited for a few days. It was so, so nice to have her here and not really have anything planned to do. She read lots of "Cat in the Hat" and "Sam I Am" (like both books, every night... and she was here 4 nights) and made lots of no-bake cookies.  Yumm - best thing ever. We ate pizza and visited bookstores and chatted about finances and childcare and how this parenting business is harder than I expected on all kinds of levels.  Grown up business.  Oh, mama.  Then after those wonderful 4 days, she packed back up and went back to Tennessee.  The next time we see her will be in October when we all meet up in Florida for vacation.  Wee!!

The weekend before last, my best friend and her girlfriend came for a visit.  My best friend and I decided about a year ago that too much time was slipping by between our visits.  There's nothing I'd love more than to have her living down the street.  I long for the kind of friendship here where my friend loves my kids (almost) as much as I do and I wouldn't hesitate for one second to ask them to watch the boys.  Even better, if she lived here, I know she would ask me when she could watch the boys. Alas, she lives 4 hours away so we have to settle for occasional visits.  For the past year, we've set up quarterly visits and it's working.  She comes here in Jan, Feb, or March.  I go there in April, May, or June.  And so on... so far, so good.  I love seeing my best friend but even more, I love seeing her with my boys and seeing how much they love her.

It was bittersweet watching them leave. Theo and I were outside playing in the sandbox and when they backed out, Theo watched them until their car disappeared down the road with a sad little frown on his face.  I asked him what was wrong and thought his eyes would well up with tears.  It was oddly sad to see how much he loves someone that is not family - but the beauty of it is that he doesn't even realize that.  The strengths and weaknesses in relationships are magnified with the addition of children.  It's true - kids change EVERY thing. Every single thing.  Some friendships I had before have all but gone away while others have blossomed.  Priorities change.  A real friend realizes that and accepts it for what it is.  Might not be late night 3 hour long phone calls anymore.  Might be a text at 6:30 am just to say hello.

My friends planned their visit - okay, I planned their visit - around an annual festival here called WAMMfest (Wine, Art, Microbrews, and Music).  My favorite thing is shopping all the local artisans' booths for one-of-a-kind treasures.

We all got mugs from one of the local pottery artists, Fatty Frogs Pots (please support local businesses and check out her etsy page).

Emily, the bff, enlightened me that this year marks 20 years since we met. Doesn't seem like either of us should be old enough to have had a friend for that long because one thing's for sure, we weren't in diapers when we met.  

We discovered that an abandoned wagon (the boys and Ryan went home for a nap) makes the perfect coffee table. 

20 years in the making and still going strong!

The day was gorgeous. Perfect. No other way to describe it. 

We ran into a friend of mine and her family and spent the last hour or so hanging out with them.  And you know, snapped this pic before I realized it looked like I was nursing my friend's baby.  He was actually just passed out asleep...but yeah.  AWK-WARD.  P.S. The observant reader might notice that I changed clothes mid-festival.  Yes. That's because I dumped a bucket of parmesan garlic butter down the front of that pink & blue striped dress, which, coincidentally belongs to the friend pictured here (holding Dexter).  Luckily Ryan came back with the boys - and a dress. 

All in all, our weekends have been pretty fantastic lately.

Now if I could just figure out a way to get my mom AND my bff a lil' closer....

xo,

~C~

their last day

Well, this has been kinda tough so far.  By kinda, I mean I've cried over this dumb mess more than I ever imagined possible or reasonable.  It's odd and interesting, the things that become important and stressful once you become a parent that you never DREAMED would be such a big deal. It's been heart-wrenching at times and I have to admit that I've probably shed more tears over this than anything since my dad died.  Well, I'm skipping over the hormonal crying related to newborn baby sleep deprivation and/or pregnancy.  While it doesn't exactly feel like someone died, the finality has hit me hard that this desirable situation has come to an end and an uncertain future is upon us.

Last Friday was the boys' last day with their first and beloved lady.  They have always spoken so highly of her and have looked forward to going to her home.  The Saturday before last, I took them to JoAnn Fabrics and told them they could pick out any gift to make for her.  Theo was drawn towards the birdhouses so they both spent some time picking their houses, changing their minds, and changing their minds again until they both picked the perfect gifts.  Picking out their paint colors was much easier.  Green and red.

They really were not interested in putting clothes back on after painting in the (almost) nude.  So they played while their projects dried.  I worked on them a little bit each night leading up to their last day.  Thursday night we put the boys' handprints on the bottoms of their birdhouses and I sealed them with clearcoat.  

As I was painting them and realizing that this was it, this was really the last night before the last morning that they'd wake up and go to her house, I lost it.  There were lots of tears.  It's just hard as a mom, going from something that you take comfort in to something that feels so completely uncomfortable.  I've grieved for my relationship with this woman, who has become a friend. I've grieved for the kids' relationship with her. For the kids' relationship with her son. Her husband.  They have been so much a part of our family for the last 3 years.  The boys have spent so many hours in her arms, home, and in her care.  It's hard to let go. And while I realize that we can and will remain in contact, it will never be the same.

The last pick-up.

There were lots of hugs during that hard good-bye but somehow I kept it together until we closed the door for the last time.  I looked behind me as we crossed the yard to the car and Theo had stopped about 20 feet back.  He was standing still with his bottom lip sticking out.  I said "Theo, come on honey.  Let's go."  He remained still and I asked him what was wrong.  He suddenly ran to me and I swooped him up and held him tight.  He said "I'm sad" and started to cry.  That's when my tears began to flow as well.  We just stood there, hugging and crying in the yard for a couple of minutes.  I was crying because he was crying. Because he was smart enough to know that something had changed but I was also crying because I knew he didn't fully understand. He sucked his thumb and stared out the window on the way home.

Friday night we distracted ourselves with a fun baseball game.  The boys were tired by the 5th inning and some nasty looking clouds were heading our way so we left. 

Coming up next -- the first day(s) at the new sitter.

xo,

~C~

we have a plan

First, I must say WOW to the last 5 days.  Three friends have had babies and I'm over the moon with excitement for them.  Two in-real-life friends and one of my favorite blogger pals, Mindi, gave birth in the past week.  Congrats to these ladies and their already beautiful, perfect families.

So, we have a plan.

We went a total of about 10 places and out of those 10, I have to say there was only 1 that gave us that "there's-no-way-in-hell" kind of feeling.  Which was good, I guess, but not so good because we had a hard decision to make. While only one of the places was an absolute "no way," most of the remaining places left us longing for a little more. Until last Tuesday.  We checked out a Montessori school and at that moment, it's like everything just clicked into place.  Are you familiar with the Montessori method? One of our nephews has been going to a Montessori school for a few years and my sister-in-law loves it.  Initially, we thought we'd send Theo 5 days a week, which made us both a little sad to think about him and Dexter being separated so much.

When we read through all the info from the school, we realized that Theo would have 2 weeks for fall break, 2 weeks for winter break, and 2 weeks for spring break.  Not to mention 10 weeks of summer break, none of which are included in the cost of tuition. Because, you know.  You're paying for the education piece, not the childcare piece.  There are camps when school's out but the cost is additional.  Last Tuesday night, we met a friend's babysitter (actually one of the mamas I mentioned at the beginning of this post) who is licensed and works out of her home.  She's been in business for 8 yrs, has a full-time employee, and has a beautiful home.  It's like we met her on the same day we toured the Montessori school for a reason.  All the pieces of the puzzle came together.  That night, we sat at the table for 2 hours figuring out our finances and how we could do this or that, compared various options, and finalized our plan.

I stole all the pictures for this post from our sitter's fb page!

The home babysitter is affordable enough that we are able to pay for Theo to go there full-time in order to secure his spot, send Dexter there full-time, and then send Theo to Montessori just 3 days a week.  This arrangement relieves a lot of my concerns about them being too young and too close to be separated 5 days a week.  They'll still be together more often than not, but maybe the bit of separation will help each of them to grow and adapt.  Maybe Theo will thrive at the school but appreciate having a couple of down days to spend playing with his brother and other kids at the sitter's home. The good thing about paying for Theo to go to this sitter full-time is that we won't have to make any separate arrangements or pay extra during those 16 weeks per year that school is not in session.

I stole all the pictures for this post from our sitter's fb page!

The school said we can bump up to full time at the beginning of any month.  The sitter said she is happy to watch Theo intermittently as long as she doesn't go over her ratio (but if she does, that spells trouble and stress for us).  Ideally, I'd like to see Dexter go to Montessori at least part time when he's 4 but it would be nice if he could start at 3 as well.  He's just very different from Theo in a lot of ways that are hard to explain and I think Theo needs this now...would greatly benefit from this now.

A nice thing about our "plan" is that they will both go to the sitter for a little over a month before Theo starts school.  It will be plenty of time (I hope) for Dexter to get comfortable there and then when Theo transitions to school 3 days a week, maybe it will be easier on Dexter than if they just both started going somewhere new, apart, at the same time. It feels good.  It feels right.  I didn't know if we would get to this point the first full week that we were searching.

I stole all the pictures for this post from our sitter's fb page!

I'm still super sad about our sitter deciding to close, but we've communicated a great deal about it and plan to stay in close contact.  She's become a part of our family, just as we have become a part of hers.  Theo knows a change is coming. We've been trying to talk to him about it without confusing him.  The first few days, he'd say "well, today was my last day."  Now he isn't saying that, but he'll say "she's not gonna babysit us anymore," "she's gonna do a different job," "in [insert random number] days, it's gonna be OVER!" (very dramatic, this kid), or he'll say things about how he's going to behave poorly at a new place (I guess to threaten us all with the consequences of this unfortunate scenario).  I really hope that's not the case, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned.  I know Theo is smart, but I think he's probably a lot smarter than even I realize.

If nothing else, it will be very interesting to see how all of this unfolds.  As of now though, we've got a plan...for what that's worth.

xo,
~C~

facebook's annoying, i'm baking, Cincinnati, and vacation

Where've I been, you ask? Well, this past week Strep throat knocked me off my feet (literally) for about 3 days.  Wow - I have never had it before and I guess I just thought it was one of those things that people got or they didn't get.  Well, I got it.  It was worse than I ever realized.  So not only did it knock me out of work for 2 days (I was able to work from home the 3rd day), it knocked me off track with Couch to 5K.  I'm planning on getting back on track (treadmill) tomorrow but I'm a little nervous.  My throat still hurts and otherwise I feel okay, but I don't know if I'm really back up to full strength yet.

We went to Cincinnati to celebrate my nephew's 8th birthday party yesterday and watch him shine at his Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby. It turned out to be a nice day.  I was glad we made the last minute decision to make it a day trip instead of a weekend trip. The boys needed the rest and so did I. It was nice having that unplanned day today to just relax and catch up things I was too sick to do last week.  As of this moment, I'm waiting for some cookie dough to chill in the fridge.  I'm making this:

Source: the-girl-who-ate-everything.com via Candice on Pinterest

Okay so that image is a little on the large side but you get the idea. S'mores cookies? Yes, please. If you're thinking I'm strange for talking about diet & exercise in one paragraph and then S'mores cookies in the next, I guess you're right. But I'm not giving up everything that I love. One word. Moderation. I wouldn't last on any diet where I felt deprived. Moderation.

In other unrelated randomness, I am getting really super annoyed with Facebook. Too many links and quotes and pictures of the ocean that people didn't take and drama and self-righteous people and on and on and on. Maybe people are annoyed with me for pretty much only posting links to my blog posts and pictures of my kids. I don't care. They can delete me. I feel bad sometimes posting links to my blog but I don't quite have a readership that warrants a fan page. I did recently surpass 50,000 page views however. That only took 2.5 years. :)

What else can we chat about? I am excited about plans and no plans. Lots of plans for May and but not much else planned this summer. Before we know it, it will be Disney time (October!). We did go ahead and purchase plane tickets. I toyed with the idea of driving, but eh. After an 8 hour trip home from Dollywood a couple weeks ago, I changed my mind. Theo started complaining 100 miles from home that his back hurt. He wasn't injured so I can only imagine it was his position in his carseat. I hate sitting for that long too. Flying nonstop 2 hours will be a dream compared to a 16+ hour drive.

My dough's chilled!

night,
~C~