Posts Tagged ‘life’

My Week(225) in iPhone Photos

Sunday, February 22nd, 2015

The kids had Monday and Tuesday off school, which DIRECTLY coincided with E’s trip out of town. I did not enjoy that. It was also ridiculously cold. February is not my favorite.

Sunday:

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She said I was her sous chef because she was Top Chef

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He’s so helpful, trying to curl Caroline’s hair with a screwdriver.

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Lap nap baby

Monday:

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OMG GIANT SNAKE…oh wait, it’s still fake

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Hello whales!

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Literally bouncing off the walls

Tuesday:

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Hot mess babywearing

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Helping with selfies

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I put my baby down inside that Boppy. HOW DID HE GET OVER THERE?

Wednesday:

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Fake it til you make it

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Aparently today she is a Southern Belle

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This is becoming a bit of a habit

Thursday:

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MIRACLES

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Unimpressed with his cute new hat OR his fancy Tula…because it was 2 degrees out

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My husband is good at appologizing

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I’m going back to Gymboree and buying that onesie in ever size

Friday:

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Back nap! The BEST part of babywearing!

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Princess crime scene

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Gingerrrrrrrrs

Saturday:

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Big girl fancy soda

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Hashtag third child

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Oh you thought I was sleeping???? SURPRISE!

It was 41 degrees today. The kids and I all left the house without coats. But it’s going to be -11 tomorrow. At least there are no major snow storms in this week’s forecast? Maybe we’ll actually have a full week of school!! But knowing my luck, the second that happens will be the second Lincoln learns to crawl and I will never get a quiet moment again.

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Just A Mommy

Wednesday, February 18th, 2015
caroline dressed as a mommy-8

Mommy uniform: Messy bun, cardi, statement necklace, leggings, boots, phone in her purse, camera and of course, her Baby Jesus.

 

A few weeks ago, my daughter had a career day at school. When I asked her what she wanted to be, I was only half listening, since in my head I was trying to figure out what dress up we could repurpose as “Doctor” or “President” or “Nobel Peace Prize Winner”.

“A MOMMY!” she shouted.

I have been a stay-at-home-mom for 6 years now. I wipe tushies and noses and hands. I do laundry, then some more laundry, then do all the laundry again. I take kids to ballet and swim and doctor’s appointments and baby signs and birthday parties. I cut coupons and make lists and menu plans and 12 trips to the grocery store and then still end up serving tacos and spaghetti two nights a week.

I wear a lot of yoga pants.

“Oh,” I said. “A mommy,” I said. “But wouldn’t you like to be something else AND a mommy?? You don’t have to be JUST a mommy.”

I flinched when I said it. The words floated out of my mouth and hung right in front of my face where I thought about how it was a stupid thing to say. I know better.

Being a mom isn’t just keeping children alive – although some days that is all I seem to manage. We can’t just feed and clothe them, we have to raise them up and impart everything we know into their empty heads. We are turning small squishy lumps of need into tiny humans who then turn into actual real humans and grow up to be, well, everything. We teach patience because one day they’ll need it while discovering the gene that cures cancer. We teach kindness because one day they might build hospitals for villages in need. We teach the alphabet so they can write the great American novel. We clean up a zillion finger paint messes so they can become great artists. Someone right now is wiping the butt of a future president.

I want Caroline to know that she has the option to be whatever she wants when she grows up, especially right now when she’s capable of dreaming about future careers without worrying about their practicality. I remember telling my mother I was going to be a ballerina marine biologist and her saying “That is a great idea”. I want her to find a passion and explore it and love it and then change her mind. I want her to change her mind a million and one times before she actually finds a career. I want her to reach for the stars…or the bottom of the sea…or the top of a mountain…or wherever it is that super successful and happy people reach. Because as cliche as it sounds, I only want her to be happy.

I don’t want anyone to ever tell my daughter she HAS to be a mother or that she can ONLY be a mother, but if she wants to be a mother – even if she wants to be JUST a mommy – then I would be very, very proud of her.

When she came home from career day, I asked her what her friends dressed up as. “Logan was a motorcycle guy!” she explained, “And all the girls were princesses!”

So maybe Mommy is a bold choice for a 4 year old after all.

And hey, I must make being a mommy look like a lot of fun if it’s something she’s looking forward to. Although it might just be because she wants to be the boss.

caroline dressed as a mommy

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A Highly Scientific Classification Of Yoga Pants

Tuesday, February 10th, 2015

This classification system the result of many years of expert study. I have a Masters Degree in Yoga Pants.

Tier One: Fancy

These yoga pants are real pants. You can wear them to school pick up and Target without hesitation and may briefly consider wearing them to work/church/date night too. They are still black and have no holes or bleach stains. They fit without giving you a terrible muffin top and are not see through. When you wear these pants you are saying: “I appreciate both comfort and fashion. I may be a busy moden woman but I still make time to take care of myself!”

Tier Two: Acceptable

Your Tier Two yoga pants are probably from Old Navy. They still fit but might have fuzzies from where your thighs rub together or a small hole in the cuff. These are the pants you are mostly likely to wear if you were to actually do yoga. You wear them for running errands but only after thinking “Maybe I should put on some jeans” (you do not put on jeans). When you wear these pants you are saying: “I was just running in to this store for a second on my way to spin class because we were all out the organic mac and cheese cups.”

Tier Three: Poor

These yoga pants are reserved for at home days. They might technically be pajamas but no one can prove that. They are the pants you wore yesterday and are still wearing today. You only wear them with long shirts because they fall down a lot – not because you lost weight from all that yoga but because the elastic is all stretched out. They aren’t really black anymore. When you wear these pants you are saying: “I totally forgot we had ballet class this morning.  I was just going to clean the bathroom.”

Tier Four: Cannot Even

All your other pants are in the actual wash. Not the laundry – you pulled these out of the laundry – but soaking wet in the washing machine. Yes, you do know there’s a hole in the crotch and spaghetti sauce on the leg and they’re dragging on the ground. THANKS for point that out. But your kid told you ten minutes ago that tomorrow is 100 day at school so you have to go find 100 f**king beads or something because otherwise he’s going to insist on bringing 100 Legos and God knows those things aren’t cheap and no way are you letting him lose that one little grey piece he absolutely CANNOT finnish Batman’s spaceship without because then you will NEVER hear the END OF IT so how about you just let me worry about my pants until I can get home and open a bottle of wine??? When you wear these pants you are saying: “I HAVE GIVEN UP ON EVERYTHING DON’T TALK TO ME.”

Other Guidelines: Pants can be demoted but not promoted, although you can mend holes on seams to give Tier Two pants a fighting chance.

There is a subclass for maternity yoga pants, which begin at Tier One but are automatically moved to Tier Three at 2 weeks post partum.

You cannot own too many pairs of yoga pants.

 

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Life With 3: Update 1

Friday, August 22nd, 2014

It is 11:25 am and I am watching The Price is Right, which means life is really good right now. That’s how I judge my level of happiness: am I able to be home, eating a sandwich, between the hours of 11 and 12 so I can watch Drew Carey give away cars? Yes? Success!!

Tomorrow Linc will be 1 month old, and I’ll start doing monthday updates again. I have big plans to do a same-spot monthly photo like I did with Caroline’s tutu, but I am TERRIBLE at following through with stuff like that so we’ll see.

It turns out the hardest part of having three kids isn’t the third kid – it’s the first two. I thought I had done a really good job teaching Evan and Caroline to play on their own without needing me to intervene or referee much. But in reality I just didn’t realize how often I had to step in until I was stuck on the couch under a sleeping or nursing baby and couldn’t break up their squabbles. There has been a LOT more yelling than I like (and I’m not even strictly anti-yelling) just because I CAN’T walk into the other room and deal with them calmly. Caroline has started shouting “Moooooom Evan is TORTURING ME again!” and Evan shouts “DON’T COME UP HERE!” and then I have to stomp up the stairs while they both shout “NOOOOOO! We’ll be good! We promise!!!!” It’s fairly exhausting just to listen to them all day, plus the stomping is really rough on my knees.

Luckily, I only have everyone home for one more week before school starts. School itself is going to be a challenge – Evan’s bus comes REALLY early and I’m kind of nervous about how he’ll behave during a long ride to school – but the quiet I’m going to get while both big kids are gone is going to be life-changing. I can start blogging again. I can edit photos. I can finish knitting one of the 5 baby hats I’ve started but not finished. I can start taking pictures for other people so I can start saving up for the new lens I want.

And I can do ALL that stuff because Linc is a super easy baby. I have absolutely NO delusions this has anything to do with me or my parenting whatsoever. It’s luck. Just luck. Maybe there’s a little truth to the idea that because I’m not tense and nervous and stressed the baby isn’t tense and nervous and stressed, but that’s anecdotal at best. I know plenty of people whose second or third baby was WAY more high-needs than the first one. I just got an easy one this time, for which I am unbelievably thankful. With E gone almost all the time I would be seriously, SERIOUSLY losing my mind if I had an inconsolable, colicky baby.

The day my mom left me alone with all 3 kids I looked around and realized my house was clean and organized, and if I could just MAINTAIN that current level I could avoid a disaster. I’ve been doing really well – right now there’s only one load of laundry not put away and all the dishes are in the dishwasher – but I’ve given up on the kids’ room. Until they go to school and I can spend a good 3+ hours in there purging it’s hopeless. Luckily the rest of the house is still in good shape, so I can just shut their door and ignore it. I’m also ALMOST done with Linc’s nursery – I still haven’t ordered the crib and I need my husband to build me a shelf – and I’m really excited to share it.

Now I have a very important episode of House Hunters: Where Are They Now? to watch while I make a grocery list and a meal plan and enjoy this slightly annoying update while I can. I feel like the next one (after the 6 am wake ups and lunch packing and school drama) will be…much less smug.

 

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Five Is Not My Favorite

Thursday, May 1st, 2014
spring gingers-40

His hair looks lopsided because his hair is lopsided. He trimmed it himself.

Someone at Evan’s school taught him a good way to annoy people is to repeat everything they say. So now he can take anyone in the house from calm to BLIND MURDEROUS RAGE in approximately 6 sentences.

Me: Evan can you please put your shoes on?
Evan: Evan can you please put your shoes on?
Me: Ha ha very funny. Knock it off.
Evan: Ha ha very funny knock it off.
Me: STOP DOING THAT RIGHT NOW.
Evan: Stop doing that right now.
Me: I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL THROW EVERY ONE OF YOUR TOYS IN THE TRASH AND YOU WON’T EVEN SEE AN IPAD FOR A MONTH IF YOU DO THAT EVEN ONE MORE TIME YOUNG MAN.
Evan: I…ok Mommy!
*Skips off oblivious to how close he was to being left at a the fire house*

At least once a week when his bus driver pulls up she has The Look on her face and I mentally add $5 to her end-of-the-year Dunkin Donut gift card. This week he was mad he had to sit next to someone and spent the whole ride home trying to push him out of the seat. They were buckled together, which made the pushing useless, but lead to a fair amount of screaming. “Pre-k bus driver” might be the worst job in the world, but being the parent who is constantly apologizing for their kid’s horrible behavior sucks too.

The other day I asked Evan if he wanted a turkey sandwich for lunch. He said “No thank you”. I made one for Caroline and put everything away. Less than 5 minutes later he was practically climbing the walls, wailing about how he would DIE if he didn’t get a turkey sandwich right now. I’m not even sure what I’m SUPPOSED to do in that situation. It was lunch time, he was definitely hungry. A turkey sandwich is a reasonable lunch request. But he said no! And I told him if he said no he didn’t get another chance! So which is the more important part of parenting here: following through with what I said or feeding my hungry child?

I made him a turkey sandwich.

spring gingers-65

Five is basically the same as a teenager, but with way less impulse control and emotional maturity. He has SO MANY FEELINGS and deals with a lot of complicated social situations – friends and best friends and who can sit with who at school and whether or not they wear pink on Wednesdays – but for the very first time. It’s hard to even watch, it must be super hard to try to navigate as a little tiny person.

In the mornings, before he gets on the bus, we sit together on the front steps. Most mornings he still wants to sit on my quickly-disappearing-lap and snuggle a little, which is TOTALLY FINE with me. But it only takes one wrong question (Do you think you’ll have fruit for snack? Isn’t that flower a pretty color? Would you like your very own pony??) for him to go from cute and cuddly to the mayor of Grumpypants Town. I don’t even like driving through Grumpypants Town, let along socializing with its elected officials.

Luckily the times he’s not being impossible he’s amazing and super fun and likes me to play the radio loud in the car so we can both sing along badly. But five is not my favorite.

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