Posts Tagged ‘motherhood’

These Photos Have Nothing To Do With This Update

Saturday, February 25th, 2017

If you ever needed reassurance that being a stay at home mom is a real job with a long list of responsibilities, come down with the stomach flu for 24 hours or so.
Despite the fact that I’ve been on a de-junking spree for all of 2017, the number of baby toys, kid socks, coats, backpacks, cups, straws, books, markers, pieces of paper, Legos, hair accessories and other random flotsam and jetsom that ended up strewn about my house was incredible. One day without putting away laundry and suddenly there’s laundry piles everywhere. I didn’t even eat or make food all day and somehow there was still a pile of dishes in the sink.
I did manage to keep two babies alive for most of that time. I mean, they were alive for all of that time, but once E got home mid-afternoon I fell into bed until my fever broke.
Luckily, by Friday morning I had enough energy to eat an English muffin, which made me feel 100% better and I got back to my adulting. We managed to more than make up for my lost time by Saturday evening and once again I am going to bed with the dishes done, the floor ready for the robot vacuum, and more adulting projects complete. The ultimate goal is to get the house SO clean and SO organized that one day of illness wouldn’t leave me with a disaster. But I suspect getting to that point is going to have more to do with no longer having a 2-year-old in the house than getting rid of more stuff.

Speaking of the 2-year-old, look at this ridiculous hat.

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35 Things My 2-Year-Old Has Done Recently

Tuesday, January 31st, 2017

This is just the past week.

  1. Taken off all his clothes and his diaper and peed on his brother’s bed.
  2. Taken off all his clothes and his diaper and pooped in the play tent.
  3. Taken off all his clothes and his diaper and rolled around on his sister’s bed naked for an indeterminate amount of time before I found him and he denied peeing anywhere but I am suspicious.
  4. Pooped in the bathtub.
  5. Intentionally poured his sippy cup of milk all over the iPad.
  6. Drew on himself with blue marker.
  7. Drew on himself with pink marker.
  8. Drew on the dining room walls with pink marker.
  9. Drew on the bedroom walls with pencil.
  10. Dumped a bag of chips on the dining room floor.
  11. Dropped a towel in the sink and then left the water running.
  12. Rubbed lotion all over the bathroom.
  13. Blew bubbles in his chocolate milk until it spilled everywhere.
  14. Jammed orange peels into part of Finnegan’s exersaucer I can’t get them out of.
  15. Refused to stay in his bed at night.
  16. Refused to stay in his sister’s bed at night.
  17. Refused to stay in his brother’s bed at night.
  18. Refused to let anyone in the house sleep because he felt like screaming.
  19. Demanded I get him more cereal to eat even though he was currently eating cereal.
  20. Cried because I wouldn’t let him watch two tablets at once.
  21. Run away at Target.
  22. Run away at the grocery store.
  23. Run away at Home Depot.
  24. Pulled his sister’s hair until she cried.
  25. Punched his older brother in the face.
  26. Climbed up the dresser and stood in the drawers until they broke.
  27. Dumped half a canister of salt on the kitchen floor.
  28. Licked the wall mirror.
  29. Licked the television set.
  30. Licked the baby.
  31. Licked a box of cereal at the store.
  32. Picked up the cat and carried her around like she was a sack of potatoes.
  33. Pull the play tool bench out of the closet and thrown all the pieces all around the room seven different times.
  34. Opened several packs of kid card games, ripped up the boxes and spread the cards all over the house.
  35. Banged on my laptop until he deleted what I was working on, messed up my desktop, sent random emails and changed all my settings.

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Today's gratuitous photo post is brought to you by the letter G

Expectations vs Life As We Know It

Tuesday, December 27th, 2016

Ever since Caroline was born, I have dreamed of the day I get to give her an American Girl doll. If you were a little girl at any point in the 90’s, you probably understand (My husband completely does not understand. “Don’t be disappointed if she doesn’t love these dolls as much as you do,” he said to me. HAHA AS IF.) In those days, they were made by The Pleasant Company and were completely unlike any other toy I had ever seen. They were beautiful. They had the most amazing clothes. They all had tiny tea sets or picnic baskets or ice cream parlors. And everything cost one million dollars. Or at least it felt like it did.

When I was 7 or 8 my parents and grandparents teamed up to make my sister and I American Girl dolls. They bought blonde 18-inch baby dolls, purchased a few tiny accessories that couldn’t be easily replicated, and then hand-made everything else we needed for our own Kirstens. They did the braids. They made beds with tiny mattresses and quilts. And my grandmother sewed me a child-sized version of Kirsten’s pink checked dress because there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be a Swedish pioneer girl, even if that meant my best friend might die of cholera. I still remember finding our boxes with the dolls under our Christmas tree.

Eventually, I got a “real” Samantha doll and several of her outfits. I treasured her until the day I accidentally pulled her leg off trying to get her into a pair of tights, then I gently put her away and thought “some day I’ll send her to the doll hospital”. I still have all of it, both the Kirsten and the Samantha and the clothes and accessories and the bed and the box. It’s been in Caroline’s closet for years. So I decided THIS year, when she turned 6, would be the year of the American Girl. I would stop hiding the catalogs when they came (because of course I get the catalog) and we would look through and talk about how pretty everything was. I would buy her a doll, then ask for my family to sponsor a gift card so we could go to the store and do some dream shopping. We could get tea and ice cream in the American Girl Cafe where your doll gets a special seat and her own cup and everything would be so pink and so sparkly and she would look back on this birthday as the best birthday of her childhood.

But I had a baby 3 months ago, who I can’t really leave for long enough to do a girl’s trip to Boston. So I needed to bring my baby with me. But I didn’t want a crying baby to disrupt our trip so I talked E into bringing everyone so he could watch the boys while Caroline and I did our special birthday stuff and then Finn would be close enough to nurse if he needed. In my head, it was a great plan.

In reality, it was a terrible plan because there was no plan. We left late. No one ate anything. We ended up with all of us standing in the middle of the American Girl store while Linc threw a tantrum, the hungry baby cried, Evan leaned against things because he was bored and I wondered how I could have even thought this was a good idea. Caroline picked out a couple things and we left. No tea, no magical mother-daughter time, no wandering around for an hour looking at every tiny detail for the dolls.

By the time we got home, I felt like I had genuinely ruined Caroline’s birthday. She would never look back on the day she got her first American Girl doll and think about how magical it was.

But the truth is 6-year-olds don’t internalize everything the way adults do. Caroline was so excited to play with her doll and to dress her up in all her new clothes she barely noticed how grumpy I was. So I pulled myself together and asked her if she wanted to run some errands with me, one-on-one. “Yes! A girl date! I love girl dates!” she said. We went to Target for diapers and toothpaste. We wandered around for an hour with our Starbucks (hot cocoa and a cake pop for her, the hugest peppermint mocha frapp ever for me), looking at Christmas decorations, checking out the stuff in the dollar spot, and picking up small presents she could give her brothers for Christmas. She brought her American Girl doll and they rode in the cart together, singing a made up song and telling every person who smiled at her that it was her birthday.

I have always struggled with keeping my expectations in the realm of reality and adjusting when things didn’t work out exactly as I had imagined. Going with the flow is not my specialty. Enjoying the moment if the moment isn’t the moment I had planned.

I’m working on it.

 

 

 

 

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Then Someone Hands You A Baby

Friday, November 18th, 2016

A lot of people told me that once you have three kids, adding any more is basically no big deal. You’re already outnumbered and have been practicing zone defense for a while. You probably already drive a minivan. You’re used to multi-tasking while being perpetually tired. The bigger ones can help with the smaller ones.

Although all of those circumstances are true for me, going from 3 to 4 has not been easy. At all. I’m getting my ass kicked a little bit. There’s a Jim Gaffigan bit where he talks about having five kids: “Imagine you’re drowning. Then someone hands you a baby.” I feel like four kids might be the point where I’m still treading water but seriously wondering why the shore is so, so far away.

When I went from one to two, Evan was still a toddler with no commitments. If everyone was tired and wanted to sleep in, we all slept in. When he napped, she napped, and then I could nap. He ate basically nothing but goldfish crackers and cups of milk. We owned 243% fewer toys that could be spread out over the entire house. It was still hard, because taking care of kids is hard, but it wasn’t daunting. By the time I went from two to three, both Evan and Caroline were in school, so although I had to get them up and out the door every day once that was done I just had one newborn to keep alive which I could do entirely from the couch. Linc and I could handle errands or chores or work thanks to babywearing and an infant who started sleeping 8+ hours a night around 6 weeks.

Now I have both big kids who have to be dressed and fed and packed and put on the bus; a toddler who wakes up too early, is trying to give up his nap, needs to be fed a constant stream of pb&j sandwiches; and then I also have a helpless baby who isn’t much of a fan of sleeping.

Being a stay at home mom has always been a weird mix of always having way too much to do and long, boring periods of nothing. There is always something or someone who needs to be cleaned, so my work is never really done. There is so much laundry it feels almost comical – how can we own so many things that constantly need to be washed?! It’s so much mindless work. I can’t trust Linc alone with Finn for very long, so I’m not taking as many showers as I probably should be. (I don’t think he’d hurt him on purpose, but sometimes he gets the urge to just SQUEEZE HIS HEAD BECAUSE HE’S SOOOOO CUTE and doesn’t know that’s not a good idea.) I am currently serving as a 24 hour buffet for the baby, so having to feed everyone else too seems ridiculous. Can’t they all just feed themselves with food that magically appears in our kitchen? I used to love cooking, now it’s tedious. The level of being touched-out has reached new heights – Finn is a very cuddly baby, especially at 2 am, but Linc is also a very cuddly toddler. There are So. Many. Diapers.

I know in my head that this is all super temporary. We missed a lot of our favorite October stuff this year because I was too tired to wrangle everyone out of the house, but there will be 18 more Octobers where I have at least one child at home to do fun fall things with me. Right now I need to choose the less stressful option, maybe let myself be more lazy than I’m usually comfortable with, perhaps do just a little less for the holidays so I don’t end up freaking out completely. I’m hoping my friends and family can grant me some grace for not being as thoughtful and timely with their gifts and thank you notes and baked goods and holiday cards.

One day, in a future I can’t quite imagine yet, having four children will be totally normal for me. It won’t take me 30 minutes to get everyone settled just so I can go do laundry for 5 minutes. I won’t constantly run out of food because I forget how much 6 people eat. I will sleep more than 3 hours in a row and it might even be in my bed instead of on the couch. There’s even a chance I will go to Target and won’t lose ANY of my kids. For now, I will keep my head above water however I can and not pretend I’m doing it very well.

I can, however, occasionally force them into photos.

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Finnegan’s Fresh 48

Wednesday, September 7th, 2016

Fresh 48 sessions are my favorite kind of photo sessions, whether it’s my own baby or someone else’s. These are the rest of my pictures of Baby Finn from our time in the hospital. Well, our first time in the hospital. We had to go back to spend some time under the lights for his bilirubin levels, which wasn’t fun for anyone. But now we are home and can finally start settling in.

I would apologize for the number of photos in this post, but I’ve been writing this blog for 8 years now. I’m pretty sure I’ve already scared away everyone on the internet who DOESN’T want to see 60 photos of babies.

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