A Mother's Love

It has been argued that hormones are at the root of a mother's bond with her new born baby, that instinct plays a major role in how she cares for and nurtures her child. I am not a scientist, and though I don't necessarily disagree with these theories, they don't fully explain the power of a mother's love.

The world will tell you that four kids is a lot, maybe even too many.  There is talk of carbon footprints and over population.  Someone seriously asked me, "what are you going to do when you have a fourth kid?" to which I replied, "just feed him, clothe him and raise him", ya know, the usual.  I expect that the footprints my children leave on this earth will far outweigh their carbon ones.  Besides, there is no such thing as over population when the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. 

Anyway, nine weeks ago, I gave birth to my fourth child.  Yes, number four.  To some gals, adding a fourth child to the mix is just like riding a bike, been there done that, it's old hat.  Well, that hasn't been my experience; the fourth time around has been just as novel as the first.  The only thing that felt familiar to me was that moment when I saw my child for the first time, when I was introduced to the person who had taken up residence in my womb for nine months.  All the wonder and worry is answered.  It's that special moment when you realize that for some reason God Himself looked past your weakness and gave you a sweet baby.   

The day Winston Dash Weimer arrived felt just as sacred as the days child one, two, and three were born.  For a second, it feels like you're reaching into heaven to hold your child... but then he cries and you realize you'll never sleep again. 

I knew I would love our Winston, I loved him as soon as I knew he existed.  Well, maybe even before that when I kept feeling like someone was missing at our dinner table.  I would catch myself setting another plate or waiting in the driveway for someone else to get in the car, though we were all buckled in and accounted for. 

I guess you could say that Winston was a twinkle in my eye and it didn't have much to do with hormones or instinct.  It was just love.

And so it is. ..we are now a family of six, which we will stay... unless we get a dog and I  don't see that happening... because I have all these kids to take care of. 

I know that Winston won't be baby forever.  I will eventually stop nursing and swaddling and rocking him to sleep.  There will be a time when he won't need me every second, when those so called instincts and hormones won't be needed.  Then what... do I leave my young?  That is when mother's love will endure. 

The funny thing about going into labor with Winston was that before I left for the hospital, I was making my kids lunches for school and putting new laces in Noel's shoes.  I was breathing though contractions thinking, "these kids will never know what a sacrifice it was to make these PB&J sandwiches".    Though I literally had a baby on the way, I could not forget my other babies.  Dylan is 9, Noel is 7 and Prestyn is almost 5.  The amount of fingernails I have clipped, the bedtime songs I have sung, the tough love, soft love, pure love I have given, and the amount of mother's guilt I have felt is beyond instinct.

I'll be honest... I don't have all the answers.  I've never gotten to the point in motherhood when I feel like "I've got this".  Motherhood is akin to firefighting... except I think firefighters get to take naps.  That being said, I'm forever grateful for the opportunity to be in this labor of love.  The instincts are great, but when that fails, I know I have a greater power, a mother's love. 

'Til We Meet Again

 

My brother passed away this week. Robert Michael Peterson, or better known as Bobby, has moved on from this mortal life and we are left behind to grieve.  I'm not sure what is more difficult, losing my brother or watching my parents' hearts aching. 

Having an older brother is a gift, one that I am so grateful my girls get to experience.  My brother was just the kind of brother a girl needs in a pickle.  I knew even though I was at times a thorn in his side, if I needed anything he would be there.  Upon returning home in tears from grade school one day, my brother insisted I tell him about my plight.  I told him that on the bus home two boys were picking on me.  He told me not to worry about it.  What he really meant was that the next day he, as a junior high student, would stay after school and ride the bus home with me.  He sat right across from my harassers.  Let's just say the tables were turned and those boys never spoke an unkind word to me again.

Bobby was humble (I'm sure he still is).  He is unassuming, the kind of man that will not talk himself up even when he has something legitimate to brag about.  I believe he lived by the motto "judge not lest ye be judged."  Bob's the kind of guy you can shoot the breeze with.  Though private and modest, he is the kind of guy you want as a pal.  He is funny (really funny) and quick to take in a good joke.  He never spoke my name in a normal tone.  I'm not sure why, but it was never "hi Jill", it was "heey Jillyyyannnn". It always made me laugh and reminded me that I am in fact the little sister and to him that is how I would stay.

Something I love about my brother is that he never forgot about my dreams.  It's so funny, but almost every time we got together he would remind me that once upon a time I wanted to be a news anchor.  He would remind me that I am in fact not too old to follow my dreams and that he would assist me.  He wanted to help me make a demo to send to local news stations. He hated the idea that I wasn't fulfilling my dream.  He was so convincing.  I almost dusted off my old mission suit, and lights camera action we're live! He loved a good success story, people following their dreams and succeeding.  My brother followed his own dream of owning his own  trucking company and being his own boss.  I really look up to my brother for having the guts to pursue his dream. 

Truth be told, I have regrets, but it's not that I didn't become a news anchor, it's that I didn't call my brother every time I had a funny story or just to shoot the breeze more.  I know my brother doesn't begrudge me, he's just not that type of guy, but I want my brother to know that not only do I love him, but I truly admire him too.  Bobby, I admire you and I hope you can look at the joy you brought to our lives and take some time to admire yourself. 

Robert Michael is gone for a time, but I know that we will see him again and I can almost bet that he will greet us with a joke and for me a "well hey Jillyannnn".  Bobby, we love you and no amount of time will change that.  Dearest brother, God be with you until we meet again. 

Three

Happy Birthday to my No No.  I never want to forget what Noel is like at this age.  In my selfish motherhood, I truly do not want my girl to grow any more.  I love this age, I love that Noel bounces wherever she goes and sings freely.  I love how she says Pony, band aid, and Prestyn, and when she makes a suggestion she says “how bout”.  I love that her favorite book is Pinkalicious and that she only wants me to read the last page and that nothing makes her more angry than when her brothers spoils it. 

I have never worried about Noel.  From the minute she was born she was very clear about what she wanted.  Noel is determined and resourceful; she has a way of seamlessly getting what she wants.  Her tactic is to wear you down and she does it so well.  Tonight I put her to bed 20 times.  After she ruined my bath, woke her baby sister and mooched off my snack, I gave in.  “Fine, you can watch a show with me, but you have to sit still and be quiet” She agreed, but thought we should watch “Bo on the Go” while I tickled her arm.  As I sat there watching her show and tickling her arm, I thought “How did this happen?”  I wasn’t even mad, I was past that point.  When I finally put her to bed she said “Mommy, you’re the best girl” and that was it, I was glad I let her stay up with me because I know it was not lost on her. 

The reason I want to get this all down is because there may be a day that Noel will not grab her coat and sprint for the door when she hears someone leaving.  Someday she may not sob at the door when she can’t go with me.  She might even grow up to be uninterested in purses, necklaces and painted nails, but for now these things are treasures to her.  Corbet and I have an understanding that if we can take her whenever we go out, we do and if we can’t, we have a sneak out plan that involves the other parent luring her away with candy.  When she does get to go for a car ride she often brings her Hello Kitty purse with her Minnie Mouse stuffed inside. 

I almost always put her hair in pig tails just so I can see them bounce as she goes about her day. I know there will be a day when she doesn’t want pig tails or for me to lay with her while she falls asleep.  She won’t need me to read to her forever and she will eventually grow tired of singing to me. 

I know my No No has to grow up, but I want her to know that there are things she does not have to grow out of. Noel has a natural confidence and happiness that I pray she holds on to.  At three she already has a strength that has taken me a life time to build.  I watch her in wonder and know that she came to our family already made; who she is was decided before I even held her.  She is growing up and though I hate to see it happen, I love watching who she is becoming and I know it will be a beautiful journey. 

Happy Birthday my girl, oh how we love our No No. 

 

Merry Christmas from the Weimers

The Christmas Letter

I have always loved Christmas letters. However, I have never composed one until…Now!   What a wonderful thing to let our loved ones know what we have been up to and the blessings that have taken place in our lives.  I guess with facebook and my blog The Weimer’s are an open book so to speak, but I do want to take the opportunity to share our blessings and express gratitude to the Lord for such a wonderful year! 

In February we moved to Hermiston Oregon…we are slowly making our way across Eastern Oregon.  My husband accepted the challenge of working as a production supervisor at Shearers food.  He has a crazy schedule that includes, working nights, coming home to a rambunctious family, working on his master’s degree, playing with the kids, giving his wife a break then off to bed to start it all over again.  He works hard and can be found exhausted and yet cheerful.  He continues to follow his dream of writing a novel.

Our oldest son Dylan Chase (4) has been loving preschool.  He enjoys riding his bike, building legos and trying to save the Princess via Nintendo DS.  He likes rules and likes to enforce them- we call him our hall monitor because he keeps us all on our toes.  Dylan loves life and appreciates the details.  He is gentle and kind and we are so grateful for the example he sets for his sisters. 

Our daughter, Noel Lurie (3), is full of joy.  Noel does not walk she bounces.  Her passions include necklaces, purses and kitties.  Noel is very independent, she enjoys doing everything herself.  She gets herself dressed from head to toe and changes outfits many times during the day.  Her laundry pile surpasses us all.  “No No”, as we call her, loves books, singing and dancing.  Noel brings adventure and laughter to our lives.

Our Newest Arrival, Prestyn Jean (5 Months), is the best surprise of our lives!  Prestyn is such a sweet baby.  I know all baby’s are sweet, but let me just say we have been blessed with a baby that sleeps through the night, travels well, eats well and cry’s very little.  It sounds too good to be true and if I didn’t see her sweet smile and hear her little giggles so often, I wouldn’t believe it myself.  We were terrified to have our third baby, but she has made the transition smooth and her brother and sister adore her which makes it all so special. 

As for me, the wife, the mother, the maker of the home, I can say it has been a full year!  Looking back makes me smile.  We survived a move, a pincher bug infestation, a pregnancy, the terrible two’s, making new friends and losing a dear one.  Let’s just throw in losing some hair, gaining a few gray ones, enduring a couple flues, as well as kid swallowing a penny and we will call it good.  

The truth is the good always outweighs the bad.  Out of every challenge or heartache, we’ve always found a blessing to claim.  I cannot let this year go without thanking the Lord for his hand in our lives.  The Weimer’s have been richly blessed with love, babies, joy, opportunity, disappointment, growth and faith.

We send our prayer that this letter finds you well.  May the Lord bless you this Holiday season and may you recognize his hand in your lives.  How grateful we are for this season to remember His birth, His life and His sacrifice.  We truly do wish you a Merry Christmas.

The Weimers

Thirty One

Thirty One….what can I say, it looks a little different than I expected. Right now it looks like me sitting here in my pj’s with a soggy bowl of cereal. I’m not ungrateful; I just find it funny that this is actually what I want to be doing right now. For my Birthday my husband updated my computer and relieved me from any parenting duties which is what I wanted and, no joke, best gift ever! Now, we all know that I love my kids, but I love a good guilt free break. All requests have been diverted to the Dad! If I leave for five minutes, the second after I walk in the door my kids are all over me for something to drink. It’s like our house turns into the Mojave Desert when I leave. I’m not sure what my kids are wearing to bed or if their teeth were brushed, but who cares IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!
When I was younger I loved my birthday for different reasons. For instance, when I turned seven I got the Barbie of my dreams. It came with a curling Iron to do Barbie’s hair. When I was sixteen I got a car which was amazing. But then I got older and Birthday’s became about milestones. When I turned 18 I knew I would be graduating high school and leaving for college; for that Birthday the gift was adulthood and independence. When I turned 21 the gift was a mission call from my church to Florida. Then a few days before I turned 24, the gift was marriage. I married my best friends, which truly is my favorite birthday gift (besides the Sephora makeup kit he got me last year)!
Since I turned 28, my Birthdays have become a time of reflection, a time to check in with myself. It all started with the breakdown of twenty-ten. For some reason I got a little frantic on that Birthday, “ Ahh I’m twenty-eight and feel like I have accomplished nothing”. It turns out it was just me being my prego self and at the time we were living with my parents. So… let’s just say you don’t want to send out your Christmas cards with your patent’s return address.
I will admit that every year stings a little. I never thought I would care about getting older, but I do. I swear I never thought I’d get grey hair and not only do I have a few, but I found a grey eyebrow hair! Seriously… just check me into a home; the eyebrows are giving up, how they can do this to me!?
So thirty-one, the check in this year looks a little like this: Am I happy? Yes, I truly am happy. Do I have the love and support I want and need? Yes, I am truly blessed. Do I love myself (not to be confused with being in love with myself)? Yes, I can say that I do. Are there things I want to change about myself? Yes and those things I will work on privately, mostly because I have too much pride to tell you my vices. But in all seriousness, I am grateful to be thirty-one. To have lived on this earth, at this time, with the love of dear ones and dear ones to love is a gift. Truly, what more could I want?

My Favorite Love Story

I hesitated sharing this because of its personal nature and I am hoping that my gratitude does not come off as bragging because that is not my intention in any way. All are welcome to read, but keep in mind that I write this blog for three future readers… my children.

When I met my husband I knew in a way that it was sacred, that we were meant to be together. Love at first sight can’t touch the experience I had. Corbet and I met while serving a mission for our church. The first time I heard him speak, I knew he was unlike anyone I had ever met. Here was this tall man that looked somewhat intimidating until he opened his mouth and out came humility and kindness.
When one is serving a mission she is to lock her heart from any kind of romantic relationship and I did just that, but it became very apparent to me, through the Lord that Corbet held the key and in the right time he would unlock it. We only served together for six months and then it was time for Corbet to return home. We never served in the same area and probably only saw each other a handful of times. I am a logical person, for the most part, but when it came time to fall in love there was no logic involved. Our exchanges were always professional, the only physical contact we had was the occasional hand shake. We didn’t know where each other lived or even each other’s first name, yet I felt like I knew him.
To be honest, I really struggled with this. I didn’t want to fall in love this way. I had gone on a mission to forget myself and serve the Lord. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted. I was able and blessed to focus on the work I was doing, but anytime I saw “Elder Weimer” I was called back to this familiar feeling that he was my best friend. When we looked at each other it was not with romance, but with the feeling of home. Our handshakes were firm, maybe lasted a little longer than they should have, and though at that time is wasn’t s ever said, we were thinking how much we loved each other.
When Corbet left the mission to return home he told me he would write to me during the ten months I still had as a missionary. A few months passed and I had not heard from him and there was a part of me that was relieved. After all, I never wanted love in the mission field. The exact day that I had decided to put him behind me, I heard from him. We wrote letters every week for the rest of my mission. We learned all about each other through the simplicity of paper and pen. It brings me joy that I will be able to report to my children that their father and I fell in love with out a kiss, a hug or even holding hands, we fell in love with just our hearts. Before I knew that Corbet loved me I knew that he loved the Lord. Essentially, it was our love of the Lord that brought us together.
The bittersweet end to my mission came. I saw Corbet the weekend I returned home and we haven’t been apart since. To some we seemed an unlikely couple, but we knew that we were right where we were meant to be, with each other. We are coming up on our nine year anniversary and maybe that’s not a lot of time, but I am confident in our love. To be honest I didn’t think I would marry someone like my husband, I’m not sure I knew someone like him existed. I am so grateful that Father in Heaven knows better than me. He knew how well Corbet would take care of me. I have this feeling that when we were created he had us in mind for each other. He might have created me and then thought…hmm now I need to create a really patient, kind and relaxed man to go with this girl. In all seriousness, I just want to publicly thank God for my husband. He is truly my best friend and somehow he brings a calmness to my life that did not exist before I met him. How I adore the man that insists I sleep in, takes all three kids to the park to give me some alone time, the man that works all night then gets home and apologizes that I had to be up all night with the baby. He might be embarrassed that I am publicly praising him, but it has to be said, it has to be noted that we are blessed…blessed with love, trials, laughter, children, inside jokes, and a knowledge that something greater than ourselves brought us together and our hearts are eternally grateful. I love you Corbet, thank you for being you and nothing else.

First Day Bliss

Today was Dylan’s first day of pre-school and many tears were shed. However, they were not from us…

 Let me start off by saying I adore my first born; we have always been very close.  I have always felt so grateful for Dylan. We anticipated his arrival for years and were so excited when he decided to take us on.  He was the BEST baby.  He made motherhood such a joy and the transition into parenthood easy.  Dylan is sweet, smart and funny.  He is, in fact, responsible and for the most part well behaved… that being said, he is driving me nuts! 

Since he finished 3 year old pre-school last May, he has been begging to go back.  We have tried to keep him distracted with parks, water parks, story time, bike rides and back yard water toys, but nothing has taken his mind off of school.  Almost every day this summer he has asked me if he gets to go to school “tomorrow”.   I am grateful he loves school but, early in the summer I started wishing school was all year around. 

It hasn’t just been his constant begging to return to school that has worn me out; in general, it is him being 4.  Noel hit the two year mark hard and fast and this has been her toughest age so far.  She is coming out of the twos beautifully and I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Dylan being four has been his toughest age.  However, I will be fare and say that we have had a lot of changes this year.  We moved, I started babysitting, we switched ward’s a few times (LDS church congregations), Dylan started school, I stopped babysitting and we had a baby.  I think that could be cause for a kid to act out and yet still my patience is thin. 

I will be honest and admit it’s not all Dylan.  I am exhausted and it seems the less energy I have the more he has.  I have stated on this blog that I am not a morning person.  I try with all my might to greet my children with a smile in the mornings, but Dylan sometimes gets a frown simply because he is very loud in the morning.  My mornings go a little something like this:  First off I have been up for the greater portion of the night nursing the unquenchable thirst of a six week old.  She gained 2.5 pounds in two weeks…just to give you a visual.  At just about 5:30, when I get the said baby fed enough and back to sleep, my first born comes into my room declaring loudly that “The sun woke up and it’s time for us to get out of bed”.  By us he means me.  He then will not leave my room and makes a lot of racket until I get out of bed, which I do without yelling because I don’t want to wake up my little emotional eater.

It is at 5:30 every morning that he wants pancakes.  Not cereal, not toast, not oatmeal, not anything but homemade pancakes.  He is so happy in the morning that he has no other way to express it other than by running across the hardwood floors and telling me all the things we are going to do.  His list is as follows: Ride bikes, go to the splash pad, see his friend Raine, go to school, eat hot dogs and go to the store to buy him a new car. “Bikes yes, splash pad maybe and everything else not today” is my usual response.  As the day gets going he gets cuter, but in the morning I just hear noise. 

This summer Dylan stopped taking naps (though we had a good run), discovered his love for leggos, hot dogs and ice cream.  Dylan has enforced the rules that we are not allowed to say hate or yell in the house.  (Note to self, don’t make rules you can’t follow) and he has learned that singing church songs isn’t so bad after all.  Dylan has grown and I know he will grow even more under the direction of Miss Tess, his new teacher.  For the most part, the reason I could not shed a tear this morning is due to the fact that I am excited for Dylan.  I am happy to see his love for school and for him to get his wish to go back.  He still looks so small to me and the image of him walking into school with his oversized looking backpack on his little back still hasn’t sunk in.  As ready as I was for him to go back to school, there was a bit of sadness, but I got over that when Noel burst into tears declaring that she wanted to go to school and insisting that she go “tomorrow”. 

First Day!

 Dylan & Raine

 "I want to go to school".

A gift withheld

Tonight I was getting Prestyn ready for bed and as I pulled out the PJs from her dresser I realized that the pair I chose I once chose for another baby.  When Corbet and I had been married for two years I became pregnant and we thought we were starting our family.  One of the first things I did was buy two sleepers: one for a girl and one for a boy.  I had it in my mind that if I bought the baby something, then it would stick, that there really would be a baby coming.

The time came for our first doctor’s visit.  I thought the ten week mark would never come.  Corbet and I cried seeing our baby move on the monitor and it was official, we were going to be parents!   I signed up to get weekly emails on the progress of our growing child.  I learned when and how he or she was developing and I couldn’t believe all that was happening in my own body.  It was all so miraculous and surreal. 

When it came time for another visit to the doctor I went by myself; Corbet had an exam and I felt like everything was under control.  The nurse came in with the Doppler.  We made casual conversation and I think I remember her complimenting my shoes… then her face went blank.  She told me, “I’ll be right back”.  I knew something was wrong because one minute we were talking about shoes and the next I was left in a room with my own scrambling thoughts:  Is something wrong?  Would God let this happen to me?  Would I be able to handle it if something was wrong?  Am I not ready to be a mom?  Will I get to be a mom?   

Eventually the doctor came in and performed an ultrasound where it was discovered that our baby, the one I already had a sleeper for, did not have a heartbeat.  I looked and saw this perfectly still image.  I saw tiny hands and the profile of a face, but no beating heart.   My doctor broke the news gently and before I could even think it, he said, “There is nothing you did to cause this”. I could tell he was sincerely sad for me.   

I recall thinking about the sleepers I bought, even while in the doctor’s office.  I remember feeling foolish that I allowed myself to be superstitious, to think that my child’s fate rested in a pair of PJs.  It was much bigger than a sleeper; it was the Lord’s will that I not become a mom just yet.     

Those tiny footed sleepers hung in our spare room closet through one more miscarriage. I once considered getting rid of them, but there was always something telling me that there would be little feet to fill those PJ’s someday. 

Time past, just like it always does, and now all of my kids have worn those PJ’s. Today, when I look at them I feel a sense of joy, there is no sadness attached.  I can even look back, on the rare times I think of them, and recognize that those two miscarriages were a blessing.  I learned a lot about myself and my husband and even our marriage during that time.  I also learned about my faith in God.  It is easy to say you have faith until it is tested and back then, mine was.  I had to come to the understanding that Heavenly Father knew best, even if I could not make sense of it all. 

Presently my life is full, it has its ups and downs, but my arms are always full.  Tonight I held my newborn daughter while my other kids sat on either side of me with their heads resting on my lap.  It’s hard to believe there was ever a time when they weren’t in my life and yet, now and then, I’m reminded that there was once a time I wasn’t sure I would get the chance to be a mom at all.  There was a time when two tiny sleepers hung next to my wedding dress while I hoped for the day when there would be babies to fill them.  How grateful I am that Heavenly Father knew better than I did, that he sent me my babies when he did.  I believe it may even have been His voice whispering to me to hang on to those sleepers because he knew the eventual joy I would have in filling them. 

Brutal Honesty

Brutal Honesty

Today Corbet and I took our kids to the spray park, a park with water shooting up from the ground.  Dylan has been kinda naughty and we both thought he needed to get out of the house.  My kids may have cabin fever… or something like that.  Sometimes I feel like we expect too much out of our first born but for the most part he has been an easy kid.  He has been including the spray park in his prayers so we were feeling some pressure. 

So we packed a blanket, picked up a five dollar pizza and hit the park.  While we were at the park I ran into our neighbor.  Our neighbor has four kids and Dylan can’t remember their names (neither can I) so he calls each of them buddy.  Our kids played together and we got a chance to visit.  I was pretty much amazed that she took her four kids to the park by herself, whereas I would not have attempted to go without my husband.  I’ll be honest, it’s not just the park; I rarely take my kids to the grocery store.  I have waited until ten at night or even later to go shopping just so I could avoid taking my kids and that was when I only had two. 

Seeing my neighbor with her four kids really got me thinking.  Will I ever be that Mom that takes her kids to the park by herself?  I try not to compare my mothering to other mom’s because it’s pointless and destructive, but today I went there.  So would I ever be that mom? In the time that we were chatting Noel climbed to the top of the park’s chain link fence, attempted to run out of the park twice and ate another kid’s watermelon.  All this time I was nursing a baby and trying to keep an eye of Dylan.  Had my husband not been there we probably would still be trying to find Noel.  To top things off “buddy’s” Mom was putting sun block on her four boys, which reminded me that I had missed that step today.   Now here is where I get a little more honest… when I saw my neighbor I was hoping just a little that she would not see me or recognize me.  This is a little embarrassing, but I’m pretty sure our neighbors have heard me yelling at my kids in the back yard…maybe even in the house when the windows have been open.  Once I heard them yelling in their back yard and I felt so much better, but Corbet told me they were yelling at their dog, so neighbor 1 Jillian 0.  

After Buddy’s mom saw me, I was glad she did because we did have a nice chat.  She asked me about my new baby and labor. I got over the fact that she brought fresh fruit to the park while I brought a pizza. I stopped thinking about the sun block and the fact that she may have heard me at my worst as a mother through the very fence my son peeks into their yard through. 

After I gave buddy’s mom props for taking her four kids to the park she said “it was not always like this”.  She then explained how she grew into that place as a mom and that with her two oldest being 7 and 9 she feels more comfortable about taking her kids places alone.   She even admitted to never taking her kids to the store.  I realized something important today at the spray park.  First off, I can’t measure my mothering by what other mom’s are doing, it is still pointless and destructive, and second motherhood doesn’t just happen because you have a kid.  Motherhood is a process.  I will be growing into my motherhood for a long time and probably just when it all makes sense my youngest will be leaving the nest.  For now I’m thinking of just chilling out a little.  I will try to remember the sun block, but I just might be the mom who brings pizza to the park.  

The fake out!

The first two weeks of Prestyn’s arrival went pretty smooth, but I can’t deny that we’ve had a few blunders.  One was brought to my attention today at church of all places.  First off, I want to mention that we were only 13 minutes late to church.  Okay, I know that might not be something to brag about, but when your husband is exhausted after working the night shift and you have three kids (plus yourself) to get ready for church, it feels like an accomplishment.  Thanks to Corbet the kids even had breakfast!

After the first meeting, our Bishop, who is the greatest, came up to meet the baby.  It was lovely to see his excitement for us and our new arrival.  He then said, “I have a funny story for you…”  I was expecting some cute story about when his kids were babies but nope, he said “the other day I came by your house to see the baby, and I know you were there, but you must have been taking a nap because the only one who came to the door was Noel”.   All that I could say was “uh oh”. The Bishop said that she opened the mail slot and was chatting and waving her fingers at him.   After a while, he realized that we were not coming to the door so he left.  I wish I could say this was the first time this has happened but a few months ago, when some ladies at church came by, they got the same treatment.  I’m starting to wonder if the people at church may be contemplating calling CPS! 

The truth is Noel does not sleep and even when we think she is sleeping she is faking us out.  She will stay in her bed and when we check on her she closes her eyes so we think she is sleeping.  When we go to bed, or heaven forbid take a nap after we bring home a newborn child, she gets up and farts around.  That day the Bishop came over, I knew someone had stopped by because when I got up from my nap I noticed some suspicious activity.  First off I hear “I’m stuck” which is never good.  I look over and find Noe Noe strapped in the baby swing and when I go to get her out and reprimand her for getting out of her bed and playing with the baby swing she say’s “and I pooped”  Just what I love to wake up to.  I start to wonder how long she had been up and that’s when I see a chair pulled up to the door and I knew someone stopped by.  To my defense we don’t have a door bell… not that I want anyone to ring my bell these days, but it would have been nice in times like this.  When we moved in I had Corbet put a lock at the top of the door that the kids couldn’t reach and now I’m realizing that it was the best purchase we’ve made all year!  We are currently trying to find a solution to Noel’s sleeping habits and our not hearing visitor stop by…suggestions are welcome! 

Though I have to say Prestyn is the sweetest baby, there will be some adjustments.  The dishes tend to pile up and we have stayed in our pj’s more often than not, but I have loved this time to swoon over our newborn child and watch my other two children do the same.  My proudest moments include making dinner with one hand due to holding a hungry baby and giving two kids  a bath with an infant in a front pack and so what if my 2 year old is unattended for a while (joking) and I misspelled our new daughter’s name today… so what.  We are doing this three kids thing and we are going pray we do it well! 

Welcome Home Prestyn Jean

Last Monday at 7:54 pm our world changed yet again.  The three best moments of my life are all documented by the clock and a doctor’s voice declaring the arrival of my fresh from Heaven babies.  They always ask “Do you want the baby on your chest when she is born?”  I’m always amazed by this question, where else is she gonna go?  Yes! I want to hold her the second she is born!  And so it was that when Prestyn Jean was born they put her on my chest and I wept because she was healthy and beautiful and mine.    

The transition from two kids to three has been smoother than I guessed.  However, Corbet goes back to work in a few days so maybe I should wait before I make that declaration.  I was most worried about Noel.  A few weeks ago I was watching her play outside and I couldn’t help but get a little weepy.  She has been our baby for the past two and a half years.  In fact we still call her baby.  She introduces herself as baby, so what was she going to do when she was not the baby?  We had been talking about Prestyn for nine months, but did she get it?  Did Noel understand that there would be a baby coming home with us, one that she would not only share a room with but the attention of her parents as well? 

When Corbet and the kids came to get me from the hospital I was so excited.  I am hardly away from my kids and as much as I want a break sometimes, it is hard to be without them.  I was waiting outside my room when I heard my family get off the elevator.  I could hear my kids little feet running to my room. To my surprise they were more interested in seeing Prestyn than me, which brought me much joy.

 I finally understand why my parents hated it when my siblings and I fought.  As a mom I just want my children to love each other. I am happy to report that it was love at first sight.  Dylan shouted “yah Prestyn came out” and Noel shouted “She’s so cute!” and I said a silent prayer of gratitude.  Dylan decided we should take Prestyn home which is exactly what we did. 

I am not under the illusion that it will be all baby giggles, kids sharing, and homemade meals.  We will have our ups and downs.  Kids will get sick, I will get sick and maybe I will even get sick of my kids.  They will continue to test me and I will constantly have to learn how to be a better mother, but for now I will just enjoy this time.  If I have learned one thing in the four years I have been a mother, it is that they truly do grow up fast and they aren’t babies forever, even if you call them “baby”.  

Women

Women are complex creatures, it has been said before. Though I belong to the club I will forever be perplexed by the way we do things. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a woman; I was trying to wear nylons and lipstick before I could spell, but what I didn’t know was that womanhood is a race and sometimes we race for each other while other times we push one another down… it just depends on what time of the month it is. I have never understood that about us.

To be honest, I almost passed up my best friend because I was threatened by her. She did everything I did, but better and I just couldn’t have that. Well, it wasn’t worth the fight, she’s too wonderful and I gave in. I have thought about that a few times… what if I would of resisted being her friend out of pride and missed out on our kindred friendship, what a shame that would have been.

As a woman I feel that I understand women, but there is one thing I will never understand and maybe I don’t want to. Women as a sex are amazing. The women that I know, and I know a lot, are women to admire, some have even become my goal. By goal I mean that I have been lucky enough to know women who make me want to be better, women I look at and say “I hope I can be like her someday”. I have always been rooting for the girls. In me there is a tiny feminist and a big cheerleader for the women’s team. Because aren’t we a team…. I mean really aren’t we?

So the thing that I will never understand is why we just can’t be friends? I’m not talking bosom buddies, kindred spirits, or B.F.F’s to the end; I’m just talking about being happy for one another. Is it too much to ask that another woman’s accomplishment not be our failure? Can we just say “good for you, one more point for the girls team”?

Dearest Twenty Eleven

This last year was quite eventful… for me anyway. If someone else were to look in at my life it might seem dull, mundane, messy, frugal… and full of sippy cups, diapers and some runny noses. I found it full of life and excitement, yet still full of sippy cups and diapers. In 2011 we moved to a town we said we would never move to and when we did, we thought it was temporary, but to our surprise we fell in love with this crazy little town. This place has the best rodeo ever and even decorates for Christmas with sparkly spurs! Now we aren’t official Cowboys yet, though I was tempted to buy all the cute cowgirl clothes, but we love the people and the feeling that we are where we are supposed to be. In this last year, our Dylan turned two and has kept me busy. He started talking (when it suits him), he met Buzz Light year and got to know his sister who he simply calls “baby”. Though he is tough on “baby” I see his love for her. When I am not looking he feeds her, pats her head and gives her toys to play with. Noel turned one, started walking, started eating everything she could get her tiny hands on and basically melted Corbet’s heart into a soupy puddle. Noel changed the parenting game for us. If the person who names hurricanes is looking for a good “N” name, I have an idea for them.


In 2011 Corbet learned that he is in fact not too old to change careers and even follows his dream of writing a book. As far as our marriage goes… in December it was our sixth year anniversary! We had dinner plans that were foiled by our kids, but we put them to bed and sat on the couch just happy to be together. It’s still love, we still get excited to see each other at the end of the day and we laugh so much that we forget we’re broke. How it keeps getting better… I just don’t know.

I even learned some things about myself in 2011. I learned that I still love to write and that I have a voice in the matter of mothering. Mothering for now is my canvas and I am happy to create the best life I can for my children. I have learned that mothering is not forever and when my kids are gone and grown I better be able to look at myself and know who I am… even apart from being a mom. I am still a woman with opinions, intellect and well, a little attitude. I have learned that I better keep up on myself because no one else is going to and I am worth it. I have also learned that I NEED my husband to help me with the kids, but when he is at work and we don’t see him for days… I can do it by myself. I can take my kids to church by myself and when I see Dylan is missing his dad I can even get on the floor and wrestle for a while. I can get a chair when I can’t reach something and use a drill and remember to take out the garbage on Tuesdays.

In 2011 I went to my 10 year high school reunion and realized that I am right now in the prime of my life… even if I can’t fit into my old cheer skirt, or even my wedding dress. Right now is the best. The greatest lesson I learned in 2011 is to stop waiting for life to happen. Be happy in your little duplex, even if your cougar neighbor has a more exciting life than you! Be happy that your daughter is into everything, she is healthy and happy. Be happy that Dylan is two because he will be three soon and then 18. Be happy your husband has a job… period. Just be happy, it is truly a choice and a choice I gladly made in 2011. As I smile on twenty eleven I feel a sense of gratitude and I have joy in knowing that all of my blessing came from God himself and then I smile bigger when I realize that he will be coming with me to 2012.

Plums 1st Birthday!

Noel turns one today, at 4:51 pm to be exact. It’s crazy to think that a year ago I was in the hospital waiting to meet my baby girl. I remember wanting to be as prepared as possible; I wanted her to be able look back on her baby pictures without thinking her mom looked like a wreck or that she had just given birth for that matter. I know Dylan won’t care, he might not even look at his pictures, but I have a feeling Noel will. So I got a pink mani/pedi, I woke up early to do my make-up, and throughout my labor I applied lip gloss. I know this was a frivolous concern to have in a time like labor, but to me I felt as if I was about to meet the Queen of England. My feelings were spot on; Noel now rules our home with a tiny iron fist.


It turned out that Noel’s labor was quick and painless… though the six months following weren’t. Just as Dylan embarked on the terrible two’s I gave birth to the loudest (but sweetest and cutest) crying kid one could imagine. Looking back, I think it might have been exhaustion, but at the time I thought she cried non- stop! It’s all very foggy, but at one point I felt homesick for the hospital… those nurses took such good care of us and the hospital had cable. Plum and I would catch up on shows and it was just like a mini vay-kay!

A year later, and six months of actually sleeping through the night, I have found new perspective. The first thing I learned was that you never know who you are going to get. You can dream up whoever you want, but God has dreamed up someone better. Children come with their own spirits, dispositions and surprises. Some things about my Plum cake that really surprise me are…

• She walks very well & very fast. She has mastered the art of running away when she gets caught with her “hand in the cookie jar”.

• She amuses herself. She keeps very busy by making huge messes and trying to eat inedible things like drywall and dust particles floating in a ray of sunlight.

• She startles easy so when you catch her, she jumps and runs while giggling.

• She snores, which is really cute.

• She loves getting into my make-up (my tools) and I love that she wants to be with me while I’m getting ready.

• She refuses to eat baby food. She wants to eat what her brother is eating.

• She loves Mickey Mouse. She lights up when she hears his voice.

• She growls when she’s mad

• She loves Dylan and laughs at him, which encourages his behavior!

• She takes 1 nap a day which is sometimes less than 45 minutes. (AAAAAAHHH)

• She will find a way to get dirty in 5 minutes while her brother can look spotless for days.

• She doesn’t want to cuddle; she wants to go go go.

• She is a Ma ma’s girl and I love that.

• She is shy with new people

• She wants to do everything herself…like brush her hair & teeth. She wants to feed herself and take her own diaper off. Cute & frustrating!

• She sleeps through the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

• She hates going to bed, baby food, getting out of the bath, getting her diaper changed, and being hungry or should I say not being completely full.

• She loves jewelry, music, shoes, chocolate, trying to stand on her head, bouncing, climbing on her brothers bed and bouncing some more, wrestling with dad, taking bubble baths, her glow worm, and being chased.



But the biggest surprise is how we ever lived without her. Noel fills our home with her own special light. She truly was sent from up above. Happy Birthday Plum we are so grateful you were born.

True Love

The other night I could not get Dylan to bed. He barely had one nap so I knew he was tired, but he resisted with all his might. I couldn’t understand what he needed. He was fed, bathed, teeth were brushed, stories were read, he had his blanket, glow worm and thousands of kisses. He would wave goodnight as I closed the door and just when I thought the night was mine I would hear little footsteps followed by a tiny voice saying “mommy, buzz” as in Buzz light year. After the tenth time I gave in. It was late and we were both tired, but I didn’t have any more energy to put him back to bed. We sat on the couch, Dylan watching Toy Story and me watching him because that is cuter than the movie itself. Soon enough I heard the door unlock and to both of our relief Dad was home. When Corbet came through the door our Cub got off the couch, with blanket in tow, and slowly scuffed over to his Dad. I watched in amazement as Corbet picked Dylan up. The little boy in footed pajama’s who had fought sleep all night simply put his head on his Dad’s shoulder and in seconds fell asleep. I then understood that Dylan didn’t need his glow worm or his blanket, or maybe even my kisses. What he needed was his Dad and from the looks of it, his Dad needed him too. It’s funny how he can be naughty (he’s 2) all day, I mean this kid can really test me, but a moment like that can erase it all. I was tired; we all were, but that moment was not lost on me. I was looking at Corbet and Dylan thinking… this is what true love is.

I’m Grateful …
For caramel… it is so GOOD! Whoever invented it… I owe you one!
For living in the land of opportunity
For the ability to laugh everyday
For good music
For Pinterest (I don’t have to cut out pictures in magazines and glue them in my journal anymore!!!)

The Transfer

Dylan and Noel share a room; it is one of the awesome perks of living in a duplo. But, we can’t put them to bed in the same room because plum will see her brother and bounce around her crib all night. She is her brother’s biggest fan, even though he doesn’t share. Because of our amazing living circumstances we put Noel to bed in our room. This allows her to cry it out without disturbing the neighbors. What can I say it’s a win win. Cub gets to sleep cuddling his glow worn and cars while Plum exercises her opinion in another room.

There is one thing about this situation that I just love. It is what Corbet and I call “the transfer”. When Corbet gets home from work at night he takes Plum from our room to hers. There are few things that warm my heart more than seeing my husband so gently pick up our sugar plum, rock her, kiss her and look at her as if he has never seen anything so beautiful. He doesn’t rush “the transfer”; I can tell it’s the best part of his day. It doesn’t matter how tired he is or how ready for bed he is, the transfer is sacred.

Kung Fu grip on that bottle...

Our Sweet Sugar Plum
Gratitude
· I got to talk to my cousin today
· We carved pumpkins
· Corbet took Dylan to play for a few hours
· Plum is feeding herself (though she thinks everything is edible)
· Halloween is on Monday!
· I love teaching the 12 & 13 year old girls at church
· At the moment my house is clean
· Christmas is coming!

The Red Luggage

In my eighteen year old mind I could not understand the desire my mom had for red luggage. In the Peterson home it was a regular topic of conversation. There was no mystery about what mom wanted for Christmas and Santa Dennis (my dad) delivered. My mom was so happy; you would have thought a free trip came with that luggage. To my mom the red luggage represented a world of possibilities. She dreamed of taking this luggage on cruises and trips, adventure was calling. After all, her youngest (me) was about to graduate high school and leave for college… her and my dad were free! As always my mom was prepared; she had the luggage tags filled out and a pretty ribbon tied around the handle for easy identification at the airport. Needless to say my mom was ready for a vacation and we all knew she deserved it.

The time came for me to leave for college. To my parent’s surprise (and mine) I chose a college across the country. The night before we were to leave for Virginia I was a mess… I was trying to cram all my belongings into an old suitcase. I was so afraid I’d get there and then find I forgot something I needed. That is what I told myself anyway but the truth was I was afraid I’d get there and realize I still needed my parents. Was I a big enough girl to be on my own? I’m sure my mom saw right through my façade, but instead of telling me so she wheeled in her brand new, never been used, beloved red luggage. She smiled and said, “I want you to take this to college”.

I will never forget that moment. I felt two distinct feelings: One, I didn’t deserve this luggage and two, she did. To both of us that luggage represented adventure and she was handing me her adventure. Though I was eighteen and at times selfish, her sacrifice was not lost on me. Her and my Dad had worked hard so that I could go to college and now she is giving me her luggage to do it. We made it to Virginia and once I was all settled in my parents had to leave. I have not forgotten my parent’s faces as they were leaving. I could tell that they were as nervous to leave me as I was for them to leave. Nevertheless, college was a hit and true to the late bloomer I am, I hit my stride.

“The red” and I went on many adventures and weekend trips (some the rents didn’t know about… some they did). It took me back home many times. I took the red on my most beloved mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It came with me on my honeymoon and even to the hospital for the birth of my first child.

When I look back at some of the best moments of my life, I got there holding my mom’s red luggage and in essence I was holding my mom. My mom couldn’t be with me in college, on my mission or my honeymoon (definitely not my honeymoon), but she sent her luggage. I never stopped thinking of “The Red” as my mom’s luggage because I knew in my heart that it belonged to her, but she gave it to me so willingly and with the hope that I would have my own adventures.

Sunday Antics

On the Sunday’s that Corbet works I take the kids to church all by myself. This has proven a worthy challenge. I start mentally preparing by Wednesday. I start to envision getting the kids and myself ready and getting there on time which is at 9:00. Though, I have yet to make it on time on these Sunday’s it gives me something to work for. I try to be as prepared as possible. I pack the diaper bag the night before. I try to anticipate what Dylan will need; toy cars, a Sippy cup, a book and cookies for when I need something to bribe him with. I see the other mom’s bring healthy snacks and I try to do the same when Corbet is with me because his influence is enough to keep Dylan behaved, but when I am a lone reed I resort to bribery. (I’m not ashamed) Besides from packing the diaper bag, I lay out our clothes, bathe the kids the night before and prepare for a very simple breakfast.

Managing a two year old and infant at church for three hours has taught me to wear flats (yuck), tie my hair my back (not cute) and wear a long enough skirt so that when I bend over church goes don’t see London or France. Why flats you ask? Well I am no athlete, but I have learned that chasing a runaway Cub down the halls of the Lord’s house while holding Plum my catching time is best in flats!

The most challenging part of the whole day is getting the kids in and out of the car in one piece. Dylan loves to see me freak out when he puts his hands on dirty cars and wipes them on his clean slacks. Once we are in Church I can breathe a little. Today, we got to church at about 9:10 (our time in improving!) and we sat down in the very back row. That is another thing; I don’t try to a hero and sit close to the front. So anyway, we got there and things were going really good. Noel was content in her car seat and Dylan was sitting on my lap. Just as I was started to feel proud of myself (never a good idea) Noel burst into tears and Dylan takes off. I fumble to get Noel out of her car seat while I see the back of Dylan’s head getting smaller and smaller. By the time I get a hold of Noel, Dylan is up on the stand with the Bishop. When I go get him he starts laughing as do some of the congregation. I put on my patient mother face (which is all show), grab his hand and begin the long trek back to the nose bleed section where we belong. The rest of the first hour was a little fuzzy. I got the cookies out, took Dylan to the foyer for a little time out (so he could play with the water fountain) and managed to keep Noel from wanting to eat (which really is a modern day miracle). By the time Sacrament meeting was over, I was ready to pack the kids up and call it a day. I leaned to the mom sitting next to me, who also has a two year old and said, “I get why some churches send the kids to nursery even during the service, I think they are on to something.”

After the first meeting I take Dylan to Nursery for two hours so I can go to Sunday school and Relief Society. Usually he causes a big scene when I leave, which is pay back from my days of Pre-School (sorry Mrs. Pots and Mrs. Mole), but today he found a friend and trains and I was out the door. I still take Plum to both of my classes, but she is cake compared to Cub. Today she has unusually loud gas, which is uncomfortable for both of us. I don’t want to throw her under the bus and point to her when she relieves herself, but I don’t want to take the blame either! Between class and a few trips to the mothers lounge to feed and change Noel time went pretty fast. By the time I got Dylan from Nursery and got to the car, I was so exhausted! This may not sound like much and believe me a lot of women do it with more kids, but I am a big baby and for me taking my ankle biters to church wears me out.

Today when we got home I fed them both and put them down for a nap. I couldn’t decide if I wanted a nap or to just enjoy the quiet … so I sat on the couch and pondered the reasons I take my kids to church when for the most part it seems like a big chore. As always I found more reasons to go than to stay home. I am trusting that the Lord knows my struggle and that he will bless me. I have faith that though my children are small, little seeds of faith are being planted in their heart. I also can’t lie, I pretend that Nursery is free babysitting and that the mothers lounge is a club where Mom’s can hang out and exchange tips (which is true). I also learn something every Sunday. Even with my noisy offspring I never go home empty. If there is one place where I feel understood, it is church because most of the women have done just what I have done and most times with more kids and then there is The Lord who never forgets our sacrifice, even if sometimes we forget his.

For more information where you can take your noisy kids to church go to http://www.mormon.org/
 
Gratitude:
• My parents and Grandma came to visit! They brought Dylan a Cars Table & Toy Box! He is one happy kid!


• We had a great weekend that involved the farmers market, a wiener dog race, a BBQ with the rents and Church of course!

• The weather has been beautiful!

• The flowers I got at the farmers market are holding up beautifully.

• Our neighbor’s party (huge party) only lasted until 12:30 last night. We thought it would be until at least 3:00. I saw him after church and though I was exhausted; I know I felt better than him today!

A Good Man

In my teen years I would be described as sassy at best or high maintenance as my dad would say (and still does). I think about the things I put my dad through and yet his patience was everlasting. For instance when I was fourteen/ fifteen my Dad took me to seminary (an early morning church class) every morning at 6:00 AM. He didn’t have to be into work that early, but he took me anyway because that is just the kinda Dad he is. Not only did he do this happily, but he would give me ten wake-up calls to get me there on time. Every morning resulted in me running to the car in a frenzied rush pom poms flying and the whole bit. I used his (Police) car visor mirror as my personal vanity. I was always amazed that by the time he dropped me off I hadn’t ruined his morning. In just a twenty minute ride many demands came from my glossed lips. “Dad, take the corners easy… I’m applying my mascara; do you have to tap on the steering wheel like that? Can you go faster, I’m gonna be late (like it’s his fault) I forgot my lunch, can I have lunch money… oh yeah and its picture day.” What can I say even coming from two (very) morning persons; I am not in the slightest a morning person. By the end of the car ride I was always expecting my dad to throw me out of the car while peeling out, blaring his oldies and yet everyday it went a little more like this “Have a good day kid.”

In a world of missing Fathers I am so grateful to report that mine was home every night for dinner and many nights helped prepare the dinner and clean the kitchen. I don’t think I ever stopped being sixteen in my Dads eyes and that’s okay with me. I have seen the same look in his eyes when I went away to college, went on a mission for my church, got married and had my babies… proud and yet shocked that I am in fact not sixteen anymore. He still doesn’t want me to be cold, hungry, drive in the dark or rain (or at all), climb ladders, lift heavy objects, or cry. My Dad taught me lessons that no one else could have, but the most important lesson he taught me was what to expect from a man. I am the cliché (and happy to be) of the girl who married a man like her Father. How grateful I am to be my Father’s daughter.

Gratitude

• For my Dad, he really is the best.

• For my husband and the wonderful (really wonderful) Dad that he is to our children.

• For my Father in-law. He really is like a Father to me.

• For Father’s day, a day to reflect the good men in our lives.

Cubs don’t take sick days!

This last week Corbet, Dylan, Noel and I all got colds, the kind of cold that allows the whole family to stay in their pajamas and watch court T.V guilt free. (Side note I love “In Session”, always have. The Casey Anthony trail is gripping and I am sucker for justice) The saying that Mom’s don’t get a sick day is true but it should also be noted that two year olds work right on through their sick day. I have had no energy and though Dylan has had the same cold as me his energy in more than intact. Somehow in my declining state I missed; him throwing a whole box of infant q-tips down the heater, pumping and pumping and pumping hand sanitizer on his little hands then wiping it in his hair. (Corby thinks I had this one coming with my “so called” excessive use of the best invention ever!) I have also had to stop the dishwasher 3 or 4 times today. If there is a button he will press it. In fact I woke up this morning to the TV blaring and an enthusiastic shout for cars the movie, which is his new obsession. I sure am glad he is sleeping in a toddler bed so he can get out whenever he pleases. It never fails when I go to check on him before I go to bed; I have to remove the twenty trucks he got out of bed to get while he should have been sleeping. It is also really convenient to have my 5 month old and 2 year old sharing a room, especially when he wants to turn the light on and play trucks at 11:00 pm. That and him throwing his blocks in his sister’s crib has made me consider hollowing out a closest and putting his big boy bed in there.


I had to run to the store today even in my broken down state. It was one of those times when you just pray no one you know is there, but everyone you know is there. Every time I saw someone I knew, I wanted to shout “OH hi, I look like I’m dead because I feel like it and my whole family is sick, oh and I have this two year old at home… oh and a baby that woke up all night, Yeah, good to see you too!” Anyway, when I got home from my head hanging shopping experience I noticed that Dylan had specks of black on his lips. I asked Corbet what had happened and it turns out that Dylan was using my mascara as a sucker. Corbet tried to put me at ease by saying “he thinks I will still be able to use it.” Um… have you ever heard of pink eye? No thanks! Dylan loves to get into my make-up (my tools as Corbet calls it) because everything has a lid and he loves to open and close things. Lucky for me my make-up table (my station as Corbet calls it) is just the right size for a two year old.



I have never understood that children’s cold medicine commercial that claims it won’t make your kids drowsy. Am I the only one that is looking for cold meds that in fact make my kid drowsy? All the good medicine your kid has to be four anyway… so instead I gave him a real fruit popsicle and let him play (make a mess) until he grabs his blanket, which is his little white flag that declares “I give up, I need a nap.” Some day’s the terrible two’s are in fact terrible, but I have tried to look at them through our Cub’s eyes. I don’t know what he was thinking with the q-tips or the mascara, but I can see his thought process with the sanitizer and starting the dishwasher and I know when he turned the TV on he expected to see Cars. It is pretty amazing to see our little boy trying to figure things out for himself. I try really hard (really hard) to stand back and allow him to figure things out. Here is what he has figured out recently.

• If he has done something wrong he will come give me a hug because he knows that is my weakness. I’m trying to be strong though.

• If he wants pretty much anything he just has to say please or in his case peez. For now it works, but this won’t last forever.

• He likes to throw trash ( and that is a broad term to him) in the garbage

• If he brings me his shoes and say’s shoes I will put them on him.

• That sister can’t have a bite of his cracker or a drink from his Sippy cup.

• He is doing so well with a fork and spoon!

• He can climb on his toy box and turn on the light. (We are moving the toy box)

• His crayons color more than just paper. (GREAT)

• He knows what side of the car his car seat is on and runs to it.

• If he throws water out of the bath tub, his tub time is OVER!



Gratitude

• I got to see Jessica Jean and her beautiful kids last week!

• Dylan and Noel are over their colds

• Noel has two bottom teeth coming in and she is not even fussy!

• When the kids and I stayed at my mother in-laws she took the kids so I could sleep in!

• Dylan loves brushing his teeth almost as much as I do!