Is it Bedtime Yet?

*Disclaimer: The portions of this blog post depicting my husband's obvious lapse in judgement were shared with permission...and a laugh.*

It started last night.

I reminded my husband that it was his turn to get up and feed the baby in the middle of the night. His response was that I should do it since he has to get up and go to work in the morning (he gets up at an ungodly (sarcasm) 7:50 am) and I can stay home and take a nap if I'm tired.

Sleep did not balm the wound on that one, so I woke up in a fowl mood.

Then I got to deal with the insurance some more, who refuse to cover any of the medical expenses (in upwards of $200,000, ya know, pocket change) stemming from my son's NICU stay and life flight. They tell me to deal with the hospital about it. The hospital tells me to deal with them. I think that after they both tell me this, they meet up for Dr. Pepper in a Sonic parking lot and laugh at me.

I went to my son's parent/teacher conference this morning, making special care not to wear yoga pants. After that, I took my three little darlings to the park to play until they were tired enough to take a nap spend some quality time together, and after an hour (which I personally find to be a very reasonable allotment of time since I didn't get to bring a friend to gossip with while the kids played) I said we had to go home. If only it had been that easy. My three year old responded with taking off her left shoe and throwing it at me, and then standing by the playground screaming bloody murder while I tried to play the "fine, I'm leaving" game with her and load the other two into the car. The game didn't work, as she has a head as thick as a ball of solid steel. Someone walked up to her and probably thought she was seriously distraught, because my daughter is an incredible actress, and bent over with the body language of "Where is your mommy, little girl?" I could see it all very clearly from where I was putting the stroller back into my trunk (maybe 20 feet away) and thought, "Oh, crap." That's when Ellie punched her and ran away screaming. Ellie has a solid right hook...excellent follow through. She was still screaming when I got to her (no tears, just wails of horror) and I picked her up, tossed her over my shoulder and mouthed an "I'm sorry" as we walked to the car. I tried to act normal and in control while quietly whispering threats into her ear. Then I wondered how many people were watching me and wondering if I was kidnapping the small human currently screaming like a banshee and only wearing one shoe.

So, we came home. Where I instructed my kids to clean up their room and was subsequently called "the hugest meanest butt hole" by my six year old. Then, when I found that my daughter had escaped and was not in fact in her room cleaning, she came out of my room wearing a heavy application of my lipstick but acting nonchalant as if she was just going for an afternoon stroll. Refer to the previous about her acting abilities. When I went into my room to assess the damages I was lucky not to find any remnants of the makeover. I did, however, find gum in the carpet and a broken curtain rod. Occupational hazard.

While fixing the curtain rod, I heard someone yell, "IS THAT POOP?" I walked in to find Ellie waving her hand in front of her nose and denying any involvement in the aforementioned matter. Landon says he saw Ellie do it. Ellie scoffs at that. Let's just say that my daughter blamed her dad. The accused has not confirmed nor denied the allegations.

The rest of the afternoon has gone by in a blur. I vaguely remember getting baby throw up in my hair and answering the door for a neighbor who will probably go home and say bad things about me in concerned tone to her husband. I said bad things about her to myself when she left. In all fairness it was mostly because she's skinny and tan and I'm 6 weeks post baby, so it angered me greatly. I may or may not have seen red fire. It wasn't her fault. But I blame her and I'm not ashamed.

I would go ahead and call the day a parenting failure. However, I diligently remembered to refill my birth control and not for nothing, but pretty sure the pharmacist knew exactly why I was getting it filled due to the two older kids hitting each other behind me. I also typed the last few sentences of this with one hand so I could hold in a binkie for my youngest with the other hand. On that note, I'm going to go now. Pray for me.

So, hubby, when do I get my nap?

An Update and a Throwback

I haven't blogged in a while. I suppose I could blame it on being busy, now a mom of three, but the truth is that once a little bit of time goes by without writing, it's easy to just let more and more time go by. The thought of playing "catch up" with my blog, and then once again explaining why I've been gone, and then committing to be "back at it" and the added guilt once I, once again, am not "back at it", all just makes it quite complicated. Truth is, I've just been thinking about other things lately! I've been focusing on my kids and my family. My pregnancy was a whirlwind and the subsequent 6 weeks since Mason was born seems like an even bigger whirlwind!

There are so many things I've been wanting to sit down and write about. There are products I've been using that I want to share with you (some I love, some I hate) and there are moments with my kids I've been wanting to immortalize in print. There are reviews I've been asked to do, products that have been sent to me that I've used and planned to report on, and of course, Mason's birth story that I'd love to share.

However for now, while I work on compiling the different projects I have in store for this blog moving forward, I thought I would scale it back just a second from the fashion and the makeup and the sarcasm and, in light of my oldest son's sixth birthday a few weeks back, and me becoming a new mother again just a few weeks before that, I'm going to paste in an excerpt from an old blog entry from a personal blog (a journal, really) from four years ago, on my son's second

birthday. Not only do I feel the same way about my son as I did then, but it's all multiplied by three. So here's a little throwback for you all! Enjoy!

**********

On this very day, two years ago, my body was housing a little miracle. I would have him on February 28, 2009 in the late morning. My whole world was going to change. From that second forward, I was no longer the same person. Something innate, divine and remarkable changed inside of me. A rough, brazen albeit sensitive soul had spent nine months being shaped and refined into a mold worthy of the name 'Mommy'. That day, I was entrusted with a gift. This gift was unlike any I had received before. I was given a soul. This soul was my responsibility to shape and feed with wisdom and knowledge-attributes that, ironically enough, this new little soul would be teaching me. Heaven sent me a gift.

Heaven sent me an angel. I named him Landon.

I wish that I had words in my vocabulary to even come close to describing what it is like to be a mother. I've never been one to lack eloquence, but my angel of a boy is the one thing in my life that has rendered me speechless.

I love him, not only because he is my child, but because of who he is. He is a good, good person. He recognizes when someone's feelings are hurt, and he is the first to hug them. He knows when I'm sad or not feeling good, and without asking him to, he'll bring me his teddy bear or his blanket. He kisses his Buzz Lightyear and Woody toys goodnight each night. He tells me about Jesus, and that we should be soft in His house. (Reverent at church.) He knows how to kneel down and fold his arms, and he knows that before he goes to bed, he is to say his prayers. He is polite, and says "Please" and "Thank You".

Aside from those and countless other beautiful attributes my sweet son has, one of my favorites is that he is an incredible judge of character, which is a testament to the people in his life that he loves. 

Can you believe, that despite all of the words scrawling from left to right across this page, I might still feel at a loss for words in regards to my feelings about my son?

Well, I do.

I am in awe of him. I am in awe of my Heavenly Father for the mere creation of such a being as my sweet son. My love for him, regardless of anything that I might have the creativity to type, has rendered me my own kind of speechless.

Lessons I Learned While Walking to the Park

I was recently having a bit of a rough day. You know the kind. You can't find your keys. You pour a bowl of cereal and you're out of milk. The bills are piling up. The dishes need cleaning, the laundry needs folding, and everyone needs your attention. You know those days. But then, my son asked me to take him on a walk to the park. And my daughter jumped up and down and clapped and said, "Yes, the park!" And let me tell you what, that little walk to the park sure taught me a lot about life. I thought I would share...

First, I learned that when life gets too bright, put on your princess sunglasses and ruby slippers. There's no place like home, right?

I also learned a few lessons via someone's sidewalk chalk art. Like, when you feel like giving up, you should just keep going forward.

I also learned to just stop and enjoy the view from wherever I'm at. You never know when it might be the last time you get a view so wonderful.

I learned that there is love in unexpected places, like the sidewalk chalk art.

And I learned that sometimes, the hill we have to climb may seem steep and impossible.

But if we keep going, we WILL eventually get to the top.

And our reward will be more than worth it.

I also re-learned that this is a beautiful country that we live in, and that other people still fly our flag proudly. I was also touched at my son recognizing it and it's beauty. God bless America.

And I also learned that when in doubt, always wear your riding gloves...

<3

My Weekend in Snapshots

I went to school on a snowy Saturday morning, and obviously with an empty tank of gas.

I did laundry and other domestic things...#wefinallyhavecleantowels

It snowed.

A lot.

So I drank warm things.

And wore warm things.

And then we wrapped a birthday gift for Uncle Josh and made him a birthday card that we subsequently forgot to attach to the gift.

Then the kitchen actually got cleaned.

And Landon's room went from this, to this:

Which is something of a miracle.

Ellie's room stayed like this.

We had our weekly Sunday morning breakfast.

And went to church.

We picked our candy out of the Santa calendar.

And tore a paper off our our Christmas countdown chain.

We drove to Grandma and Grandpa's house for Sunday dinner.

Then we came home to make apple cinnamon cupcakes.

 They wrestled around on floor.

 And I sat down and read a book.

And now the house is quiet. And finals are approaching. And instead of sleeping, I'll be studying. 

And I think I need a weekend from my weekend.

-L

Mouths of Babes: Christmas Edition

In our home at Christmastime, we have a little Santa calendar with pockets. You've all seen them. You know, the type that has a flurry of pockets in rows across Santa's belly, one for each day until Christmas Eve?
                                      
In the pockets of our Santa, there are little slips of paper with something fun to to each day. Things like, "Make Christmas cookies" and "Make a paper chain" are mixed with more exciting things like, "Take a trip to Salt Lake City to see the Christmas lights" and "Go to the church Christmas party!" Carefully typed, cut into strips and folded, these little activities fill the pockets across Santa's belly and my kids stare at them, wondering what fun surprise they'll unfold tomorrow.

This morning, Landon ran straight to the calendar and said, "Mom! It's the three day!" (Today is December 3rd.) He knows that after he gets home from daycare and does his chores, he gets to choose the paper of the day. All day, I know that he dreams about what he's going to get to do. He can't wait to find out what the "actibity" as he calls it, will be.

On the way to daycare this morning, Landon said to me, "Mommy, I love being a kid. I don't ever want to grow up because kids get to pick out of the calendar. I want to stay a boy like Peter Pan." I laughed and told him that if he wanted to stay four years old forever, that would be fine with me.

The concept has been mulling around in my mind today since he said that, though. Somehow, my small four year old boy is aware enough to think that only kids do "fun things", and that if he grows up, all the fun will go away.

I can't help but wonder, am I too detached, too busy, too frazzled to just stop and have fun? With my culmination of being a student, a mother, a wife, working (more than) full time...am I telling my kids that when you grow up, life isn't fun anymore?

This December, as we pull little slips of magic from Santa's pockets, I'm going to make a conscious effort to have a freaking blast. My babies are growing. They're aware. They're noticing. They're absorbing. I guess it's my job to make sure all of that happens the right way. Apparently, that's what parenting is.

Who knew?

-L

The Little Things

Each night, before bed, I sit with Landon and we talk for a minute. I ask him what the best and worst parts of his day were, and then I tuck him in for the night.

Tonight, my Landon said to me, "The best part of my day was winning my race with Grandpa!"

It's the little things.

That's all I'm saying, people.

-L

Living for Today

I have been reminded lately how short life can be. We live our lives with a "tomorrow attitude" and a "yesterday perspective". We spend our days planning what we will need to have, need to do and need to accomplish in our tomorrows instead of what and who we need to think about today. We worry about who has hurt or offended us yesterday instead of who we should forgive and love today. We are all just people. We are not invincible. We are not bulletproof. We have absolutely no guarantee for tomorrow, and I can't help but think that at the end of my life, I probably won't look back and think, "I wish I would have done more laundry. I wish I wouldn't have forgiven that person. I wish I never would have got back in touch with that friend. I wish I would have read less stories to my kids and I wish I would have spent more time at work."

Nah.

I don't think that's what I'll be thinking about.

We are human, and yes, part of having a good today is planning on tomorrow. We should save our money. We should sweep the floor. We should study for that test, and we should have those goals. Sure, too much living in the moment can be a dangerous mindset when important things are disregarded in the name of "living for today". But! Sometimes, you're halfway through folding a basket of laundry and you have to just ignore the rest, because there are babies who want you to read them stories. 

And life is too short to wish I'd finished that basket of laundry instead.

So I left it.

And I read stories.

I wish the things that reminded me of this weren't so tragic, but they are sometimes. And I've been reminded to worry less about yesterday, obsess less about tomorrow, and actually live for today a little bit more.

That doesn't involve laundry. It involves bedtime stories. 

-L 

A Letter From a Working Mom

This letter originated in the personal journals I keep for my kids. You can read more about that here. I decided to take it from the pen to the computer screen.

Dear Babies,

Sometimes, I have to leave you. More mornings than not, you are sad not to have morning snuggles and you are wanting for a slower routine.

I can't give that to you.

Sometimes, you cry when we go our separate ways each day, holding out your sweet arms for me and telling me you don't want me to leave.

I can't stay with you.

Sometimes, I look at the clock about mid day, and I realize you've had your lunch already, and you're probably going down for your nap. You're holding your sippy and you're snuggling your blanket.

I can't be there with you.

Sometimes, I wonder if you've fallen down today while riding a scooter or jumping from a swing. I wonder if you cried.

I can't kiss your "owies".

Sometimes, I text your babysitter just to tell her I miss you or ask her how you're doing. I love her, because she loves you. I love her, because she takes care of you when I can't. I love her because you love her. Each day, I give her the most important pieces of my life, and she loves you while I am away.

I can't thank her enough for that.

Sometimes, I feel bad for being away from you most days. I feel bad because I worry that you don't understand. That you don't know that if I could, I would be with you every minute. But our family doesn't work that way. Your daddy and I are away from you during the day because we love you so much, and we know that we need to take care of you.

I can't help that.

Babies, please know that when I'm away from you, you are always on my mind.

In the morning, when I stop for gas or a drink and I open up my wallet, I see you. I think of you, and I miss you.

When I sit down in my office at work, I see you. I smile, and I'm proud of you. I'm happy to show any and everyone who walks into my office that you are mine. You are perfect.

When I pull out my phone at lunchtime to talk to your dad for a minute, there you are. I see you.

Long after you go to sleep at night, when I sit down at the desk to do my homework, write, get caught up on emails, finish things up for work the next day, etc. I look over and I see you.

Babies, I'm sorry for all of the "can't". But though I miss you throughout the days that I can't be with you, know that I work hard because I love you. I realize that a lot of your friends have mommies or daddies that get to stay home with them all day long. Our family isn't that way, but we love you just as much as any mommy or daddy ever could.

Know that I want what's best for you. I might be sad to be away from you, sad when you reach for me and I have to leave, sad for the naps I don't get to put you down for or the lunches I don't get to feed you, but I'm at peace knowing that you're in good hands, and I am at peace because it is all because I love you.

I'm at peace, because this is the very best I can do.

I treasure the few days a week that I get to wake up and snuggle you, get to see your sweet faces marked with blanket and pillow lines after your nap, get to smile at the static in your crazy pig tails after you rolled around and played on the floor, and get to put Monsters Inc or Angry Bird bandaids on your owies.

Sometimes, I can't always be there. But I see you wherever I go, and I love you.

Love,
Mommy

First and Last

Being a mamma means a lot of things.

Too many things to ever try to dictate in a blog post.

But among the many, being a mom means you witness a lot of "firsts", both for yourself and your babies.

There are first haircuts.

And first days of pre-school.

But there are lasts, too. I think that sometimes, we just don't recognize them as much. Slowly, but surely, they grow up. One day, there will be a last time that these crazy babies find a laundry hamper to sit in while they watch a movie...

One day, Ellie won't sit in a high chair anymore. She won't say "no" to everything, even if she means "yes". It will be done, it will be gone. One day, Landon won't say "K" sounds like a "T" ever again. And one day, he'll be able to pronounce "directions" instead of saying "delections."

I think they're worth every first and every last.