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.

at least there's still the chocolate.

Two days in a row.  Impressive, right?  Although don't get too excited.  I just happened to have a funny/mildly entertaining story to share, and the kids are all being extra well behaved, so it's like the perfect storm to enable blogging.

Okay, so I found this idea on Pinterest for a DIY advent calendar (well, I mean, I totally bought the actual calendar at Target, but the inner stuff is DIY).  It did NOT include the idea of chocolate each day, but I went ahead and added that.  Because I don't think Jesus intended anyone to countdown the days to his birthday without the aide of chocolate.  ;)  Anyway...the original idea that inspired me was to have a little object representing a concept from a verse from Scripture.  The pin included all the Scripture and object ideas, so I've just been using that, but a lot of them are a little abstract and deep for a 5 and (almost!) 3 year old.  So today's opening of the calendar door was pretty awesome.

The object was a string and it was supposed to represent that Jesus is a link or bridge between God and humanity.  I knew that was a little hard for anyone, let alone my wonderfully young and smart children, to understand.  So I had Ivy play the role of God and Max humanity, and I launched into something a little like this: "So before Jesus, there was God up here, and there was all of the people in the world over here.  And they had no way to get to God.  So God sent Jesus into the world, and he eventually died for all of our sins, and then all the people now have a link and a way to connect to God.  Does that make sense?"  To which Max responded, "Yeah. (pause)  I'm thirsty.  Can I have some water?"

I got you and I still believe...

Oh man.  Where do I even start?!  I've had about a billion ideas for blog posts in the past few weeks, but no time to actually create them.  And even today, my to do list is bigger than the time left in the day.  But somewhere in the past few weeks I've hit a turning point.  I think I might have actually started to embrace this staying at home thing.  I think there are a lot of contributing factors to that new outlook (time, my new part time & totally sweet gig at Target, and re-starting the daily chore list from MotivatedMoms.com that the fabulous Cassie Lahmann told me about a few years ago).  And also, I'm blogging on a good day.  :)

I've had so many times in the past week where I've found myself just, plain happy.  Watching Max run (and I mean RUN) into school each morning, sharing a smile with Ivy because we happen to find ourselves pretty funny in our private & silly moments, and loving listening to Milo because I know just the right spots to tickle him to elicit outright belly laughter.  And yes, there are bad moments, and days.  And yes, these are certainly all things that I could (and did) have while working full time outside the home.  But it's starting to sink in why God lead me in this direction.  It brings tears to my eyes (of happiness, FYI)  when I realize how many more of these moments I get to have.  And I'm pretty confident that I *will* work outside the home again, and I know that each day and each new phase brings more opportunities so I know I'll only collect more, but right now I have so much time each day to have them and recognize them and cherish them.  All very cheesy, but all very, very true.

However, I totally have another motivation for this blog today.  During all this hustle and bustle and craziness of everyday, mundane life, I have not taken the time to thank a dear friend for doing one of the most wonderful and thoughtful things that someone has done for me in a long time.  (Which really is saying a lot, because I pretty much have the most amazing group of friends and family ever.  Be jealous.)  So here is my uber public way of doing just that.  The thank you can't do the gift justice.  But I'm still going to attempt to express my gratitude.

So, about a month ago I received this in the mail:

It was from my friend, Donna.  It included a letter detailing instructions about the order in which to look at things included in the package (and the rule follower in me kicked in and I totally did as instructed) and an explanation of how this whole wonderful story played out.  I'll give you all the short version.

Donna knew how bittersweet closing the doors of the coffee shop was for me.  In fact, she was one of the first people I told about the decision because she happened to send me a random Facebook message the week the decision was made, and she lives far enough away and is a good enough person that I knew she could keep a secret until I was ready to tell the rest of the world.  ANYWAY, knowing how sad I was to be closing the door on a dream, and also knowing how I had very naively thought that I would one day somehow magically get the band members of Wilco to visit, she decided to do something to cheer me up.  A series of (kind of funny, and very typical life o' Kara) events followed, and Donna actually got one of the band members to call the coffee shop one day while I was still open.  I actually even remember the day, and the out of state number, and feeling bad for not being able to get to it in time (as occasionally happened while working solo). So, never undeterred Donna went to Plan B.  She printed off pictures of the coffee shop (from her second and what turned out to be final, visit on her way back home to California a few years ago) and took them with her to a Wilco show.  She proceeded to get them autographed, and then took all the care in the world to mail them safely, with a hand written letter explaining it all.

And as I sit here typing this blog at 1:40 pm, unshowered, with no lunch in my belly yet, and a crying baby at my feet, I'm so grateful for this gift of thoughtfulness from my friend.  There will always be a little coffee shop shaped hole in my heart that I just don't think anything will fill.  And that's okay.  Because it was a huge part of my life, and it made me who I am today, and I met so many amazing people through the 9 years of its existence.  And there is a sense of failure that looms within me, because I think that if I just would have done a little better, brought in a little more business, I could have turned down the offer to close its doors.  But when I lump all of these emotions and thoughts together, I'm faced with a beautiful realization that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be right now.  And I'm happy.

I haven't had time to frame the pictures yet.  We're mid-finishing a room in our basement right now, and I think they will make a perfect home on the walls there, right next to the framed plexiglass Being There sign that Breona's stepdad gave me.  And while I don't need tangible reminders of the wonderfulness that that venture brought me, I'm still really happy to have them.  And I'm blown away by the thoughtfulness of Donna, and the kindness of the band members of Wilco to take time after a show to sign one more autograph.  They were, after all, the inspiration behind the name of the business, and their music has always moved me since that fateful day in 2001 when I first popped that CD in the player in my car on my daily drive to Central.

So, officially, thank you, Donna.  For not only taking the time to get these signatures on pictures of a place that is a part of me forever, but thank you mostly for being so sweet and thoughtful.  Those pictures and signatures will forever make my heart happy.    

better late than never

I haven't forgotten about this blog!  Life has just been a little crazy lately.  Nothing exciting.  Just every day busyness.

I plan to blog more actual blogs at a later date, but until then, here's a good Ivy quote (and a great example of a common occurrence in our house) for now:

Me: "Ivy, where's Milo?"
Ivy: "In the other room.  Eating a pencil."

And he was.  I got it from him before any major harm was done.  Although he was pretty ticked at me.

Also, this conversation occurred this morning:

I had just given Max his breakfast (super healthy chocolate donuts)....

Max: "Mom!  Mrs. Havens told me to say no to drugs."
Me: "Good, Max.  She's right."
Max: "So I can't eat these."
Me: "The donuts?"
Max: "Yeah!  Mrs. Havens said drugs are like candy, and they're bad for you.  And they'll make you sick.  So I should say no to these donuts."

Ah, if only I could stay away from chocolate using that mentality....

And now Milo is crying and Ivy has stacked three candles and an antique tea pot on our kitchen table.  I think I should probably go.  :)

Happy Boss's Day

It's been a rough past couple of weeks in our house.  Lots of sickness, numerous trips to the doctor, too many cancelled plans and shuffled schedules, and, if possible, the house has gotten even messier than it was prior to all of this.  The optimist in me (what?!...I totally have a little of it) says that I should just be thankful that the illness is all minor and, in theory, short-lived.  But the pessimist in me thinks that this just might be what pushes me over the edge into a full-blown nervous breakdown.

I continue to be asked by people how I'm liking staying at home.  I feel like it's the same as when you're pregnant and people ask you if you're excited (which I always found to be a dumb question anyway).  It just feels like there's a right answer that people are expecting.  Sort of like the "how are you today?" thing.  You're supposed to answer with "good" and be done with it.  I'm supposed to answer that staying at home is going well.  If I give any other answer it's either too much information or just plain makes me look like a bad mom.

I don't hate my new role.  But I can't say that fully love it.  And I'm not embarrassed by that and I make no apologies.  Because I *do* love my children.  And I *am* thankful for this opportunity.  I really do think years from now I'll look back on this time and be so glad that I was able to spend the extra time with the kids.  I look at Max and feel like I've just blinked and he became a 5-year-old.  And, despite that last week was one of the longest of my life :), it was nice to not have to worry about finding alternate daycare and calling employees to ask favors to work extra hours.  And I could be the one to give them extra kisses (and wipe their noses....and get whatever it is that they have five days later...).

The point to all of this (I swear that there is one), is that I am beginning to realize that the pressure to 100% love this staying at home thing is totally self-imposed.  Brian doesn't expect a clean house, or apparently, a sane wife.  He continues to love me no matter how disgusting our family room is or how often I serve him breakfast for dinner (it's SO easy...I just can't stop).  And he puts up with my constant emotional breakdowns.  And the kids seem to love me despite the fact that I forever mess up as a mom.  My patience has taken a nosedive the past few weeks, and poor Max hasn't been to school a minute before 8:40 (i.e. the time school starts) since September.  And as long as my family still loves me, which appears to be an unconditional, long-term thing, I really am as happy as a mother and wife could be.  It doesn't mean that I'm not allowed bad days and weekly cries on the kitchen floor (hypothetically, of course).  It just means that it's more motivation to keep working on being a better mother and wife.  Because these four, beautiful souls in my life really do make me want to be a better person.  And someday I will go back to working outside of the home.  And I'm sure at that point I'll miss things about staying at home.  The grass is always greener, right?  But this is what I'm supposed to be doing right now, and I've always loved a good challenge, so I'll continue to work on all these domestic skills that appear to not be a part of my genetic makeup.  And on the bad days, I'll take great solace in the fact that my "bosses" give performance reviews via kisses and hugs.

Go Team Tortoise!

This conversation occurred this morning between Max and me.  The Today Show was on the tv, and we were watching the story about the news anchorwoman in Wisconsin who spoke out against an email sent to her that criticized her weight (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdJ2jHii6Y0&feature=plcp).  Max and I had this brief conversation:

Max: "Mom!  Did you hear her?  She just called herself fat."

Me: "Well, she's actually talking about how someone sent her an email telling her that she was fat.  That's not very nice, is it?"

Max: "No."

Me: "Because we shouldn't call people names, ya know?  It hurts their feelings.  We should just say nice things."
Max: "Yeah.  Like, even though you're fat, Mom, I still love you."

Clearly he missed the "don't say mean things to people" point, but he full embraced the "we should be nice and try to love everyone" point, so I can't get too down about it.  :)  I just wish it didn't come on the week where I have two bridesmaid dresses to squeeze into.  

When I was pregnant with Milo, I decided at some point in regards to my weight gain that ignorance was bliss, and that I'd lost baby weight two times before, so I could do it again.  I attempted to enjoy my last pregnancy (as much as anyone, especially me, can enjoy pregnancy...) and not focus on the fat I was also accumulating.  I still don't know exactly what I weighed when Milo was born or exactly how much I gained, but I do know that I've got a good 10 pounds left that I'd like to lose (and realistically I'd like to make it 15 pounds).  And as much as I'm struggling with my body image right now, I do know that I'm slowly but surely getting closer to my goal.  In my mind it would have been reached by this weekend (when I have to wear the two above mentioned bridesmaid dresses), but it is what it is.  Slow and steady wins the race.  (Although sometimes the super fast and steady guy wins, too....but we're not focusing on that today.)

Honestly though, I had to laugh at Max's comment.  Because the absolute wonderful part of it?  He was being sincere.  He looked me straight in the face, and in not so many words told me that he doesn't care if I've showered, if I'm sweaty and smelly from a workout (because I do actually work out, thankyouverymuch), if I'm haggard from the daily strain of parenting....he loves me.  And if I'm being honest with myself, that's a billion times more important to me than 15 extra pounds of fat affixed to my arms and belly.  

*This is not a solicitation for "you look great!" comments.  Despite my insecurities, I'm still okay with what I look like.  I'm working to get to where I want to be, and until then, I'm good.  Pinky swear.

"M" for Mommy

Ah!  I keep wanting to blog, but most days I feel like I can't find time to shower, let alone sit at the computer uninterrupted for more than 5 minutes.

I'm not even sure where to begin with what's going on in my head.  I've definitely been struggling more with staying at home the past few weeks.  I think last week was the first time that it really sunk in that this is what I'm doing now.  Prior to that it just felt like a fun, extended version of playing mom.  But last week everything just kind of came crashing down on me.

I'm just not really feeling overly confident in myself, and I'm not feeling very competent and useful.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but I think a huge part of my identity and worth was wrapped up in the coffee shop.  I don't think that's *all* bad, but I'm definitely realizing that I need to stop letting myself feel defined by roles and things and relationships.  I'm not entirely sure how to do that, and it's all very philosophical (I mean, where does our view of ourselves come from...), but I'm relying heavily on prayer and trust that God will reveal some of this to me.  Because I don't want to be someone's mom or someone's wife or the owner of some business.  Those labels just all seem to one-dimensional.

Last week Max was commenting that his, Milo, and my names all began with the letter "M".  Thinking that he had somehow lost all ability to figure out letter sounds, I asked, "Max, what's my name?"  And he said, "Mommy."  I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.  There are certain aspects of this new role in my life that I love.  But something just isn't sitting right with it being "all" that I'm doing right now.  (And, believe me, I could write a ginormously long blog about how much value I find in staying home right now, so don't think that I am forgetting what an amazing opportunity that I'm currently carrying out.)  It just seems like 99% of what I do on a given day relates to being a mom.  My Facebook statuses are all about my kids (sorry, faithful Facebook friends!), my conversations at night with Brian are all about our kids, and the only time that I'm away from my kids seems to be for unexciting things like dentist appointments.  I love my kids.  And I still think that taking care of them every day is what I'm supposed to be doing right now.  I just am being a baby about wanting my cake and eating it, too.  (Mmmm....cake....)

Despite it all, I swear these aren't complaints.  Just some honest observations in the mind of a tired, under-caffeinated woman.  Things are just different.  And in some ways I'm struggling, but it's not all bad.  (Not "all bad"...spoken like a true pessimist!)  :)  And it doesn't help that I have about two weeks worth of blogging ideas swimming around in my head that I'm trying to cram into one post.  This might be my first one without a cute anecdote.  I promise to have lots of those next time!

I really do.

Me: "Ivy, I love you."

Ivy: "Yeah.  I kinda like you."

I guess it always comes back to the coffee.

I think today goes down as the worst day of staying home with the kids to date.  Although now that I look back on it to record it on this blog, it doesn't seem so horrible.  But at 11:00 this morning, I was beyond frustrated.  Here's the scene:

Ivy, Milo, and I had just gotten back home after going to the Campus and then grocery shopping.  Those two things had gone relatively well, and Milo had even fallen asleep on the way home, so I only had one child to entertain while putting away the groceries, which is always a plus.  So I was happily preparing my morning mocha and Ivy was, I thought, happily putting away the groceries (please note: she helped with this last time and pretty much everything ended up in the refrigerator, whether it needed to be there or not, which was perfectly fine with me because it kept her busy AND helped get food out of bags and into a closed space).  This is the moment that everything went awry.  I'm still not sure why, but Ivy grabbed a mug off the kitchen counter.  This would have been fine, except that it was full of the coffee that I didn't have time to drink this morning.  So in a moment, everything in the kitchen that had previously NOT been covered in coffee, now was: Ivy, Milo's carseat, Milo, the groceries, and about 25% of the kitchen floor.  Thankfully, since the coffee was over three hours old, it was room temperature.  But that didn't stop Ivy and Milo from immediately bursting into tears.  How I didn't join them, I'll never know.

The drama doesn't really stop there, but anything worth sharing does.  The shortened version is that I somehow managed to calmly get Ivy in the bathtub and repeatedly tell her that she wasn't in trouble, because she was convinced that she was.  I got everyone and everything else cleaned up, but at this point Ivy was an emotional wreck, and after multiple irrational conversations (because there is no reasoning with a sobbing two-year-old), I forced Ivy to take a nap.

Like any person on any given day in any given job, it was just something that in the moment seemed overwhelming and awful.  I was ready to go fill out an application at pretty much anywhere.  But, also like anyone, once a few minutes (okay, maybe like thirty) passed, I was back to good.  Present story excluded, I've loved the majority of my time at home with my kids the past month.  To be completely honest, I kind of thought I would hate staying at home.  And I do have some things that I struggle with.  But days like today are a good reminder that to get the good, I have to endure the bad.  And if the "bad" is spilled coffee once every four weeks, I think I can handle this job.

I've been collecting cute and entertaining stories to blog about, but it turns out keeping them tucked away in my brain is about as safe a place as the backseat of any vehicle I've ever owned (i.e. many a thing have entered that danger zone never to be seen again).  So, needless to say, I pretty much don't remember anything I was going to blog about for the past five-ish days.  But I do have one story that survived the craziness in my brain, and I'm throwing in a few pictures for good measure.

sToRy:

I spent a fabulously relaxing (well, minus a super stubborn migraine) weekend with some wonderful women at a cabin in Wisconsin to celebrate the upcoming wedding of a good friend (shout out to Becky!).  Of course I missed my family, but I also definitely thoroughly enjoyed only having myself to take care of for 48 hours.  Anyway, when I approached Brian about going in the beginning stages of planning the event, he immediately was 100% wonderful and genuinely expressed that he didn't mind parenting solo for the weekend.  So I got home on Sunday evening and the house was in a good state, the kids were happy, and all appeared to have gone super smoothly.  Which it did.  And then we were eating dinner two nights ago, and Ivy blurted out, "Dad!  Can we pull your finger again and see what happens?!"  And both kids burst out laughing while Brian looked at me half sheepishly, half proud (why again are men so proud of their gas?).  Apparently Brian has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve for entertaining when I'm away.  :)

pIcTuReS:

Milo the Smilo (creative, huh?...we came up with that all on our own):

My family room, mid project to go through all of the kids' clothes.  Except that it took me twice as long as anticipated.  And this is what it looked like on Day 1 when it was time to go pick Max up from school (i.e. when I thought I'd be completely done; so our house looked like this for about 12 more hours before I completed the task):

My Mini Me.  And I can't figure out how to rotate pics in blogger, so turn your head sideways for the full effect:  :)

my family (shockingly) likes to read!

 Brian reading to the lil' two...

Ivy reading to Milo...

Max brought this home from school yesterday and I *for real* almost cried (out of happiness)...

And this one I threw in for fun.  Max brought this home from school last week.  He's VERY into Mario Bros stuff lately (which is a total understatement in itself), and he told me this said Luigi (which he pronounces "Wuh-lee-gee"), and he was going to spell Mario, but messed up and changed it to "Me".  

So, there I was, cleaning my floors, mid-way through checking off one of the five items on my to-do list for the day.  Milo, God bless him, was in the middle of a marathon nap, and Ivy was right there with me asking to help clean (yes, I'm cherishing that, because I know it's probably going to be short-lived).  I was feeling so on top of it.  So organized.  So "I-am-Super-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar".

And then the phone rang.  It was the dentist office.  We were supposed to be there.  Fifteen minutes ago.  For the appointment that I had already rescheduled once, with less than 24 hours notice, due to a conflict.

The receptionist was super nice.  (And, to be fair, she probably wasn't shocked since I've been going to this office for a few years now, and she's probably picked up on my uber obvious lack of organizational skills.)  But I still felt rude, and sheepish.  And it totally burst my bubble.

I've moved on though.  I'm determined to not only remember Ivy's dentist appointment next week, but to arrive early (or at least on time...).  *And*, I totally have completed 2 of my to-do list tasks for the day.  (**And** one of them was 'make scotcharoos'....for my girls' weekend/Bekcy's bachelorette party for this weekend that promises to be fun, relaxing, and a break from my beautiful but exhausting children.)

And, while I'm typing this, I'm watching Ivy play with grapes in ways that I've never seen (putting one between  her chin and chest without smashing it, "accidentally" dropping it on the (clean!!) floor seven million times, etc.), and while it sounds uninteresting, it's totally adorable.  And I can hear Milo cooing contently in his room, which is so much nicer to listen to than his typical screaming fits immediately following waking up.  So, I'm going to go feed my baby.  And give Ivy the pudding she was promised if she ate two grapes (I know...parenting at it's finest).

big day

It was shaping up to be a kind of rough morning, until this arrived...

I didn't even care that it took me over a half an hour to make a mocha (because I couldn't get the grind right on my old espresso machine and Milo woke up multiple times from his nap and Ivy went to the bathroom on the floor...).  I'm not sure that an iced white mocha has ever tasted so good.  Ever.

And, because I clearly have jacked up priorities, I also definitely need to mention that Max started Kindergarten today!!  Because he went to summer school, it didn't feel quite as momentous as I think it could have, but still, everyone was pretty excited about it.  He was adamant that I drop him off and not walk him inside.  I'm not going to lie, I've had multiple brief visions of me picking him up from school (p.s. I need to figure out what time school is over) and the teacher saying, "Max??  He never made it to the classroom today."  But the rational part of me, albeit small, knows that he found his way just fine.

Ivy, Milo, and I have a lunch date with Brian.  (Ivy actually requested Buffalo Wild Wings, which is an equal amount of adorable and mind-boggling.)  And now that my espresso machine is here and taking up 1/4 of my already ridiculously small (and horrifyingly ugly) counter top, I need to at some point today de-clutter the kitchen.  And maybe do some laundry.  I'll just have to see where the day takes my *two* little people and me.

Look out Richard Simmons.

I got up at 5:00 this morning to go running (I joined a running class at the Campus, and fyi, after the first day, I *love* it!), and I was home by 7:00 am.  At first, that was the only planned outing of the day.  But about ten minutes after Brian left, I decided it would be best for everyone if we scheduled something else to at least get us out of the house for a little bit.  Target was the clear choice.

It actually didn't go as horribly as it could have.  In fact, I'd say on a scale of one to ten (one being "I think we were just actually banned for a lifetime from all Targets" and ten being "that was more relaxing than a glass of Moscato"), I'd give it a nice, ol' 7.  Milo screamed off and on during the first part of it (it's his new "thing") until he pretty much cried himself into a deep slumber, and even though the Altoona Target only has three aisles of schools supplies, I think we went up and down each one twenty-six times and still someone managed to not get four things on our list.  BUT, we all survived.  And I had dangled the carrot of slushees for anyone with good behavior, and Max and Ivy not only acheived the award, but the super nice lady at the counter gave them both swirly straws (which she probably gives to everyone, but I like to think that she gave them to my kids because they're so darn cute).

Of note from the Target trip:

*This is what Ivy's hair looked like during the entire thing.  (She tackled the chore of "doing" her hair herself this morning, and I pick and choose my battles with her, so I decided to just go with this one.)  Also, it's very "Sweatin' to the Oldies" and we all know how much I love me some 80's.

           

*A hilarious snippet of conversation between Max and me:
Max: "Can I get a toy the next time we come to Target??"
Me: "I don't know Max.  Possibly."
Max: "What does possibly mean?"
Me: "Um, I guess it's just a fancy way of saying 'maybe'."
Max: "Ohh...so, it's like French."

*After trying (or attempting to try) on the majority of the shoes in the girls' shoe section on Ivy, I've come to the conclusion that she has ginormously wide feet.  We finally found a pair that would fit over them, but the poor thing had to settle for her fifth choice.

Oh, and before I forget to post the pictures, Max has been working on writing books again.  For all the obvious reasons, I love-love-love this!  He has a ways to go on plot development, but for a five year old, I think it's pretty impressive all around.