You have to imagine a lollipop stuck through the card so it looks like it’s in his hand. It makes more sense that way.

XOXO Interwebs. You’ll always be my real Valentine.

Today is my 7th wedding anniversary. According to Wikipedia, the traditional gifts are copper, wool or a nice pen set. Instead of any of those, I gave my husband the gift of 2 babies – one of which refuses to eat from anything but my body – to single parent for four days while I went to California to party like a rock star. I won’t be surprised if he shows up at the airport tonight with his own one-way plane ticket to a dessert island far far away from groin-punching toddlers, teethy biting babies and dogs who are trying to shed themselves hairless. I wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.

But despite my jokes, I know he WILL be there tonight, with two happy and fed and clean and dressed and safe children who he loves and who love him. As much as I rolls his eyes (I swear they’re going to fall right out of his head) when I talk about blogging, he knows it’s important to me and so he supports me. The same way he supports me on the days he comes home from work and I’m lying on the floor covered in babies and practically in tears because all I want is FIVE MINUTES OF PERSONAL SPACE OMG so he sweeps the children up and away before he even takes off his uniform. The same way he supports our whole family by recommitting to serve his country twice, even though I know he sometimes dreams of civilian life. He is consistent and steadfast and strong and honest and just a really, really good guy who lets me write about (and complain about) him on the internet.

And tonight I will be exhausted and grumpy and dirty and hungry and want nothing more than to just hug everyone and then crash for 12 hours. Luckily, E took Monday off to help me recover (and vice versa).

I think I owe him a REALLY NICE pen set.

Obligatory wedding pictures (taken in the stone age on actual film, before everyone used digital)(that I’m pretty sure I’ve posted before) for the anniversary:

Happy 7th Anniversary, Evan. I wouldn’t take back one second of it.

I have a problem.

I think I need to admit it and consider getting help.

Although I’m not sure anyone makes a 12 step program for headband addicts.

Step 1: Accept that your hair has gotten out of control and you NEED those headbands to survive.

Wait, that’s not right.

I blame Gossip Girl. And Etsy. Although I think it really started almost exactly a year ago, right before Little Evan’s first birthday party. I went on a hunt for a jaunty (did I really just say jaunty?) red headband to complete my slightly-ringmaster-esque-without-being-costumey outfit. And you know what I found? TONS OF HEADBANDS. HEADBANDS EVERYWHERE. A PLETHORA OF HEADBANDS. At some point between when I was 8 and now they came back into style. Who knew? So I fought my way through cheap plastic earrings and fingerless lace gloves (which should NOT have come back) to the back of a Claire’s bought one. People told me it was cute. It made my boring just-hangs-there-hair look more fun. So a few months later I bought another one, black and white flowers, at Target.

AND THEN MY OBSESSION TOOK OVER.

Gold & Red headbands – Much Love Illy

Felt flower and purple feather headbands – My beloved Uff Da

Black & White Rosettes and Red & Yellow Rosettes – Twenty Five Design

Purple Ruffle and Red Polka Dot Ruffle – Gussy

Red Rosette headband – Allora Handmade

And my newest addition…

Blue Print headband – Rayna Jaye

You can see how this is getting a little out of hand. But the truth is, they make me SO HAPPY. Headbands are a new mom’s best friend. Greasy hair? Cute headband and no one notices! Boring outfit? Cute headband and no one notices! Bitchy receptionist at my OB’s office who “forgot” to put my appointment in the computer and tries to tell me they’re all booked so I’ll just have to get someone to watch the kids some other day and come back? Notices my cute headband and then finds a doctor who can see me! (True story.)

Also, headbands always fit, even when my pants do not.

But because spending our entire tax return on headbands would be an irresponsible choice, I decided to go about trying to make my own. Behold! The easiest, cheapest headband ever!

Glue gun, stretchy headband from Target (on clearance, 5 for $4), sparkly iron on applique from craft store (on clearance for $1.50), tiny piece of felt left over from my felt flowers.

FACT: I took this picture yesterday morning. I haven’t washed my hair in two days and I’ve been fluctuating between burning with fever and sweating like a pig as it breaks. Isn’t that a lovely mental picture? And yet, I am still willing to put this picture on the internet! Because my hair still looks cute! HEADBANDS ARE MAGIC!

Of course, the camera in from of my face is hiding the real tragedy. How many headbands does it take to hide the giant bags under my eyes and the zits on my chin?

…have dark circles under them no concealer can hide.

…are coated in yesterday’s smudged mascara.

…haven’t had a brow wax in 4 months.

…are getting wrinkles, but we’ll call them laugh-lines.

…are on the back of her head.

…brim with pride at first steps.

…and brim with tears at first boo boos.

…can see in the dark.

…have seen the same episode of Yo Gabba Gabba a zillionty times.

…read the same bedtime story over and over.

…are hard to pry open after sleepless nights.

…cry tears of frustration.

…cry tears of joy.

…smile more than they frown.

…are full of love for her children.

Happy Valentine’s Day, whoever your Valentine may be.

I feel like I’ve been involved in a lot of conversations recently about choosing – or not choosing – to have a second child. On the one hand, first babies are a big deal and nothing changes your life more than having one. Going from childless to being parent may be the biggest adjustment a person can make. I mean, it’s not like you get to try dating a bunch of babies to find the right one or do a trial run by living together first before you decide to make it permanent. Even if you stole rented borrowed a baby from someone else it’s totally different when you know they’re yours to keep. You gotta make sure you don’t screw those suckers up because you’re the one who’s going to be dealing with the aftermath for the next 60+ years.

So in the grand scheme of things, adding another baby shouldn’t be such a big deal. You’ve already got the stuff. You’ve got a little hands-on experience. You’ve figured out what works for you and what doesn’t. And yet somehow adding 1 new baby to 1 toddler-sized baby = 5x as much laundry. 5x as much crying. 5x as many sleepless nights. 5x as many bad days. It takes 5x as much time to leave the house or take a shower or make dinner. Things you really enjoyed with one baby – like grocery shopping – are suddenly impossible. With a toddler in the seat, where does the baby go?! Do you take them out of the bucket and wear them? Even if they’re sleeping at it’s 4 degrees outside and it means standing next to the car shoving them into the Moby while the toddler screeches? Do you put the bucket in the cart and only buy as many groceries as you can fit around them and then face the wrath of the bagger at checkout? (So far, my solution is to only shop when I can take one kid – or no kids – but that’s not going to last forever.)

Of course, you also get 5x as much love, which totally makes up for that other stuff. Most days.

You get to see how big and smart and grown up your older baby is and you can’t believe it. All those milestones that you breezed by months ago are suddenly seem new again – the walking, the talking, the feeding himself. The presence of a brand new baby lump makes everything a toddler does so much MORE. More fun, more amazing, more exciting, more louder (I know it’s not a word, but it is MORE LOUDER).  He’s not a baby anymore and yet he is YOUR baby and you want him to stay small and grow up all at the same time because the growing is so much fun to watch and experience but how can you stand the thought that one day he won’t need you at all??

Then there’s the baby, the teeny tiny fresh baked baby to nurse and change and rock and nurse and change and rock again. There are no socks on the planet tiny and stretchy enough to stay on her feet. She doesn’t smile at you or laugh at you yet but she sleeps best tucked into your armpit and the warmth of her body is practically the same as hearing her say “I love you mama”. You get to look forward to all the milestones again and you can’t wait for them to get here but you also want her to stay a tiny lump forever because all the growing is just too much for your heart to handle and maybe too much for your body to handle too. What happens when they can BOTH run away?

Because now she’s crying from the bedroom and you have shampoo in your hair and the toddler just pulled off his diaper and the washing machine is buzzing and you forgot to buy milk and oh no does that mean you HAVE to take them both to the grocery store? Hurry hurry better get going no time to slow down grab some breakfast throw some peanut butter at the toddler and oh crap the baby needs to be fed.

So you sit down and relax and snuggle the little baby and start to enjoy the moment. Then the bigger baby wiggles up next to you and lays his head on your shoulder and sighs and your heart EXPLODES into a million zillion pieces you stop wondering how you’re going to handle two babies and wonder instead how you ever lived without them.