1) Be Nice.

Well, we've got a few weeks of summer vacation under our belt, and all I can say is that we've survived.  I made it 32 years and some months before I finally gave into any version of a planner.  I cannot keep my schedule and three other people's schedules (I don't even attempt to keep up on Brian) straight without the aide of something.

Ivy and Max went to a day (well, morning) camp last week in Ankeny.  It was the first time since my maternity leave that Milo and I got to spend quality, consistent alone time together.  It was weird, and brought back a lot of memories of life with just lil' Maxwell (back in the day), but it was really, really good.  We folded some laundry, played, he napped one or two of the days, and we even got to go for a walk.  Not that I'm even remotely wishing my time away with Ivy (and Max), but it did make me realize how wonderful it will be come fall when Ivy is in preschool a few mornings a week and Milo and I can hang.

The kids and I made it about a day before I declared, loudly and forcefully, that we were going to make summer rules.  Rule #1 is "Be nice."  It typically gets broken within five minutes of the kids waking up, and subsequently is broken about four hundred more times throughout the day.  I've only contemplated drinking before noon a few times.  I'm actually starting to get a little nervous that Max and Ivy will hate each other for the entire lives.  But they're both adorably and wonderfully kind to Milo, so I have hope for them to eventually show that to each other, too.

Max also had a three day VBS at our church last week, and we've had a handful of play dates, tee ball games, and about 14 visits to Target and Hy-Vee (100% of which have ended in me wanting to rock back in forth in the corner in the fetal position).  Prior to summer vacation I had fleeting thoughts of maybe wanting another baby.  I laugh out loud at the thought now.  :)

I had a lot more to say, but Milo just ambled by me, smiled and left a strong odor where he last stood.  Apparently a diaper change is in order.  And now there's some kind of major cracker drama in the other room with Ivy.  #mommyproblems #TGIalmostbedtime

We ate May down to the rind...

So I just recently got back home from an amazing weekend with one of the most beautiful souls that I know.  Days pop up every few months where I question my identity and wonder if I'm losing myself amidst all of the diaper changes and PBS shows and minivan driving and all of the other stereotypical tasks that come with having small children.  And on some of those days I feel sorry for myself, or think less of myself, or something in between.  But weekends like this one, while few and far between, are a perfect reminder of how I can have my cake (or scotcharoo) and eat it, too.  I'm taking care of my kids, and I'm still me.  I've said it in this blog before, but I'm not defined by what I do.  That is true of any job I have and will have.  I don't know why that is so hard for me to remember sometimes.  But I feel like it's helpful for me to blog and type and say it as often as I need to.  :)

But anyway, enough with the contemplative stuff.  More about the fun weekend!  So, I totally ran, without stopping (thankyouverymuch) a 10K, and that was even with multiple (minor, but painful) issues with my legs and feet.  I got to listen to almost 9 total hours of uninterrupted music of my own choice.  I got to sleep in until 9:00 am.  I got to spend quality time with one of my best friends in the whole, wide, world, and I shared some of that time with her sister and nephew, who coincidentally are equally as wonderful.  I got to buy gourmet cupcakes and eat them without guilt (see above mention of running a 10K...hellllooo, "free" calories!).  I got to briefly spend time in quite possibly one of the cutest cities in the Midwest, and drink coffee and eat in places that I feel like were built and run by people with heart and passion and goodness.  And I did all this and then drove out of Madison with tears streaming down my face.  Because I was so happy with the past 48 hours of my short trip, and I was so happy to be driving back home to a husband and kids that I love so much that I miss even when I'm gone for such a short time.




And then, because it wouldn't be my blog without a good story, I have to briefly touch on the crazy-chaotic first ten minutes of my time back home.  So I walked in to my house to loud dog barking (Brutus does that every time anyone pulls in our driveway, even if it's a vehicle that he knows one of us drive), Milo shaking the baby gate bars with happiness (soooo cute!), and sobs from Ivy.  I peered over the baby gate and Ivy was standing in a brand new, adorable outfit.  And a puddle of urine.  She so rarely wets her pants (like maybe she's done that once in the past 6 months...if even that), but knowing that Brian and Kathy were waiting to leave for a belated Mother's Day dinner, I swept in and convincingly said something like, "Go, go.  I've totally got this."  And I ran bath water, and I tried to give Max the attention he was craving, and I stuck Milo in his crib because I was worried he would crawl through the before mentioned puddle of pee in the dining room.  So then Milo started crying because he doesn't like being confined to anything especially his bed, and Max got needier and whinier, and I was trying to bathe Ivy.  And as I was rinsing water through her hair to get the last of the shampoo out I found what I thought was a pumpkin seed tangled in her hair.  Which I quickly realized was a bug.  Which I then tried to pull out without panicking.  But it wouldn't come out.  So I got tweezers, and tried to muster out in a non squeaky voice, "Hold still, Ivy.  Something is stuck in your hair."  And I pulled it out, and she cried, and I quickly texted a picture to Brian.  And he promptly called to say it was a tick.

Lots of inward freaking out ensued.  I don't do well with bugs and blood.  Especially when the bug is still alive and crawling around in a red, plastic Target brand baggie in my kitchen.  Numerous phone calls and texts to the on call pediatrician later, it was determined that it was a dog tick and not a deer tick, so despite the fact that it had probably been attached to her for days (ew!), there wasn't cause for concern.  In the meantime, I finished Ivy's bath, fed all three kids, cleaned up the puddle of pee on the floor, and tried not to cry.  Welcome home, right?  :)

Call me crazy though, but I wouldn't trade any of it (minus the tick part; I wouldn't be sad if that had never happened).  It's not about payback for the good weekend.  Or the bad outweighing the good.  It's just about  contentment and happiness and Faith and being surrounded by love all mixed together with some other things that I can't put into words.  And I feel like I have that.  As impossible as it is to describe, I still proudly claim to obtain it.

because this is more exciting than cleaning the kitchen

I keep thinking that I'm going to update my blog, but then I either don't make time or, like now, I have time but can't think of anything super spectacular to share.  Well, except maybe that this is the current scene at my house:

Milo (who, FYI, has pooped NINE TIMES in the past 24 hours) is crawling around the family room on his knees using a kid Iowa State bat as a cane.  And Ivy (dressed in her gymnastic leotard, blue tutu, Minnie Mouse tshirt, sparkly headband, and baseball cleats) is rotating back and forth between reading (well, "reading") books and dancing to Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe".  This is all after we spent the first hour of the morning all trying not to have nervous breakdowns (I would call it semi-successful because I think Max was the only one who actually cried at any point of it all), and then the rest of the time at Ivy's gymnastics class at Triad in Ankeny, which I have decided is pretty much the most adorable thing to ever take place in the history of the world.  For realsies.

Also of note from recently:

*I willingly signed up to coach Ivy's Wee Ball team.  I'm actually a little terrified, but I figure one can only screw up Wee Ball coaching so much.  I don't think anyone will end up in remedial Tee Ball because of my lack of skills.  And I'm positive that our team will have the most fun.  I mean, have you guys seen me on the co-ed softball field?  Where I lack in actual softball skill I make up for greatly in entertainment value.

*Max lost his first tooth a few weeks ago.  That was just when I didn't think it was possible for him to get any more handsome.  I didn't realize how much a little space in someone's mouth could make him that much more adorable.  Plus he was so brave in letting me pull it out.  It's the first time that I haven't seen blood or (even the most minor) pain freak him out.  In a related note, he also said at one point last week when he hurt his finger that he didn't want a band aid because he wanted "to be brave like Daddy".  Granted, this is coming from the child who wouldn't walk down stairs from someone's deck this weekend because he was scared.  But still...those moments of bravery are pretty endearing.

*Milo is still refusing to walk, and whenever I try to get him to say anything besides Mama or Dada or meow, he looks at me with an expression on his face that is sort of saying, "I'm not interested in learning to speak your language when this screeching thing is so much more fun".  Thankfully I'm in no hurry whatsoever for him to grow up, and I know it'll all come in good time anyway.  And in the meantime, I think I'm going to look into speed crawling events.  He would win.  Hands down.

*We (finally!!!) finished our basement.  Our furniture got delivered, the TV is on the wall, and we've already spent many an hour down there as a family.  The kids love it, and Brian and I love it.  The only thing I'm sad about is that basketball season is over and football season is months away.  I might have to get myself back into MLB again just to fully appreciate the room right now.  Watching the Celebrity Apprentice just isn't as fulfilling.

*I ran four miles last weekend.  Like, in a row, without stopping.  I know that people do this every day and it's no big deal.  But this is me.  Kara.  Uber big deal.  Just don't remind me about how much longer I have to go to get to be able to run that 10K in a month.

Okay, I think that's enough randomness for today.  As always, I hope to blog again before the next month's calendar page is turned.  No promises though.    

Happy Birthday Milo Thomas (and Justin Bieber...)

I remember a year ago today pretty vividly.  March 29th, 2012 started like any other day in a 37 week along pregnant lady.  I was crabby, busy, and willing that baby to come OUT.  I had been to a routine doctor's appointment, and he hadn't offered to check me, so I had every reason to believe that the (at the time) unnamed baby was it in for the long haul.  I went to youth group that night, and I will forever credit Tricia and Gail Ingram for the magical combo of their mom's macaroni & corn (yummo!) and Gail's belly flick encouraging the lil' guy to come out.  I came home, finally coming to terms that I was not going to have that Leap Day baby that I'd set my heart on having, and I tucked Ivy into bed.  And thus began a series of what I thought was bladder control (or lack thereof) issues for the next half an hour.  I noticed a small puddle on the floor at one point, and that's when Brian suggested that I call the doctor.  (Seriously, after two other labors, you would think I would have a little more common sense...)

We headed to the hospital, and one sleepless night, epidural, and migraine later, the unnamed baby entered the world in the easiest labor process ever.  (Says the lady who had gladly accepted the epidural.)  I had one of the worst migraines of my life and finally succumbed to it when the hospital staff took Mr. Unnamed Handsome Baby away to warm him up (his body temp was dropping, and he wasn't in any danger...but I do appreciate the precautions the hospital takes), and promptly threw up three times.  Once I was administered something stronger than Advil, I was allowed to go up to my room, and I was feeling beyond miserable (thanks, migraine).  I remember crying, out of pain and exhaustion and all other post-partum related hormones, and Brian and my mom left with determination and came back in what seemed like seconds with a nurse wheeling in the most handsome bundle of handsomeness (matched only with Mr. Max & that Brian guy, of course) ever.  And he was handed to me, and it's a moment I will never forget.  Everything faded away, the pain and hormonal stuff momentarily melted, and I remember feeling SO happy.  So calm.  So....something wonderful, but indescribable.

To this day, the boy (who, by the way, Max helped name at about 8 pm that night) still has that affect on me.  Holding a sleeping Milo is a sure fire way to relax me.  He just has this sweet, calming nature about him, and his very nature reminds me so much of Brian.  Not too mention that I continue to assert that he's what Brian would look like with blonde hair and six teeth.  :)  And there is a temper, that we all try not to provoke (holy SCREECHING!), but for the most part he's happy to just be along for the ride, and preferably a part of any action.  He's a quietly persistent little man, who knows what he wants and isn't afraid (at all) to get it.  He's not openly fearless yet.  Just methodically concentrated on every task he wants to complete.  And his smile is the handsomest thing ever.  And his giggling and cooing makes me melt.

A year and a day ago....I don't remember what that was like.  But I can't imagine life without Milo Thomas.  Happy birthday to my little man!  

clarity via sleeping baby watching

I just had one of those semi-rare moments.  I was holding Milo, and he was sound asleep, and so handsome.  And I realized that I've blinked and he's going to be one year old exactly one month from today.  And I thought to myself, "This is exactly where I want to be right now."

I've been doing some (super mild) soul searching and evaluating lately, and I've realized that just because my house isn't clean and organized (understatement of the year, by the way), it doesn't mean that I'm bad at my current role in life.  I just happened to have picked a "job" that isn't necessarily a match for my strengths.  In fact, it almost highlights my weaknesses.  Having the patience required to hang out with small children, cleaning, keeping up on laundry, being on time to kids' appointments, cooking meals.  I score low on ALL of those.  But anyone who knows me knows that I do love a good challenge.

So that's sort of where I am right now.  I started with this ridiculous idea that I was going to rock stay-at-home-momming.  And then I felt sorry for myself for sucking and made lots of excuses ("I'm still adjusting", "I'll start a new system NEXT week", "I have three kids; it's impossible to get anything done", etc.).  And now I've realized that the truth, and my new outlook on life, is somewhere in the middle of all that.  I don't suck, and I'm not a rock star.  But my kids love me, Brian is happy, and (shockingly), *I'm* happy.  So all the other stuff (the cleaning, the being on time, the organizing, the cooking), I just need to work on.  And it'll all be fine whether I ever make any improvements or not.  But it's like working out: I can't lose weight and get healthier if I don't make a conscious effort to do so.  Not too mention there is more to being a good mom than just keeping a house looking nice and putting Pinterest-worthy meals on the table every night.

So, speaking of which, there's a basket (or two...or three) of laundry staring at me.  And I have two sleeping children.  Goodbye, blog.  Hello, clean clothes.

Miss Smarty Pants

I don't have much time, but I just had to share this conversation that I had with Ivy today:

I told her that she could either have a tiny piece of chocolate cake or a tiny piece of scotcharoo* if she ate a good lunch.  As I was fixing her lunch, I noticed that the Nutri Grain bar that I tried to give to Milo for lunch was still sitting on the counter, and in lieu of throwing it away, I said, "Hey, Ivy.  See if you like this.  Milo didn't finish it, and I don't want to waste it."  I think she could have spied the raspberry filling from a mile away (note: Ivy hates most to all fruits), and she immediately shook her head furiously and stepped back a few steps.  So I said, "Oh, come on.  Just try it."  More head shaking.  More steps back.  So I said with a smile, "Well, what if I said you can't have a piece of cake unless you try this?"  And she looked at me in complete seriousness and said, "Oh, then I want a scotcharoo instead, Mommy."

I love my children.

*We clearly have too many chocolate desserts in our house.  But it's a good bad problem to have, right?  :)

My name is Kara. I'm bad at blogging on a regular basis.

Once again, I sort of took an accidental long break from blogging.  It turns out blogging is like pretty much everything else in my life: I can't quite seem to stick with it consistently.  At least I'm consistent in my lack of consistency.  Ha.

I don't even know where to start.  I feel as if something inside me has changed, or turned over, or....something.  I don't do New Year's Resolutions, so it's not like I'm on some new kick (although, now that I mention it, my running group has started up again after a three week break, and our core exercises are KILLING my abs, even as I sit here and type).  I just feel like I've finally embraced this new phase of life.  My little tag line lately has been, "I thought I'd hate staying home with the kids, but it turns out that I don't not hate it."  But if I'm being totally honest with myself, I do kind of love it.  I'm going on month six of staying home, and I don't have any plans to get a (paying) job anytime soon.  Well, not counting my one shift a week gig at Target, which I consider a break more than anything.  (I'd probably do it for free, but don't tell Target that.)

Milo will turn one in about six weeks.  And it's just another reminder of how life just seems to fly by.  (Because I swear I was *just* waddling my lil' pregnant self around weeks ago, not 11 MONTHS ago.)  I'm not sure I'll ever get on board with the title of "homemaker" (which thanks to the kids' constant doctor's appointments, I get to check a box indicating that as my profession on a regular basis), I can get on board with the moments that I have on a daily basis that I would probably miss out on if I was working full time outside of the home.

So, without further ado, here are some of those highlights from the past few weeks:

Me: It's so important to listen and learn in school.  Because there are kids in other countries who can't go to school or who don't have as awesome of a school as you do.
Max: Like England?
Me: Ehh, well, no, not really England.
Max: Like Mexico?
Me: Um, I guess, but I was thinking more of like Africa or -
Max: Ooh!  Like New York?!

Brian: Does anyone know where bacon comes from?
Ivy: Caramel!!!
Brian: Um, no, but good guess.  Anyone else?
Max: Chickens!!

Ivy, calling to me from the bathroom: Mommy, my poop stinks.  (pause)  Want to come smell it?

Not my best stories (in fact, possibly my least exciting ones to date), but this is a good reminder to me that I need to blog more often as the funny ones happen.  Because I really do forgot.  And that makes me sad.

Okay, I'm going to get back to cleaning the house.  Milo has been sleeping since noon (hallelujah!), and Ivy is asleep as well.  This is the second time this has happened this week.  I think it's a sign that I'm getting good at this mom thing.