Joy to the Mess
I see you, moms who send your kids to preschool in matching monogrammed festive wear. You look totes adorbs walking in to drop off all calm and collected. I see you, and I raise you a toddler with no shoes and a single sock halfway on. We’ll hold the door – you go on ahead. I’ve got to finish brushing the McDonald’s biscuit crumbs off my kids’ pants before we go inside.
Survival of the Summertime
I see you, mom bloggers with 5 kids and enough time to not only create homemade sensory bins but to post a how-to that same afternoon. I see you. And I’m wondering where the heck your kids are while you’re blogging, because they certainly aren’t in the room with you. The hungriest my kids ever get is when I sit down at my computer and start typing. Or when I pick up the phone to actually talk to another reasonable human. It’s like instant starvation when my attention is diverted from their angel faces. Either that or all-out war with each other. They’re kind of the worst. (Especially the toddler. Did you see…
The Evolution of Infants
At Mom Rush Hour at Chick-fil-A a few weeks ago, my toddlertastic son broke out of my grip and sprinted full speed into the crowded parking lot. I took off after him with his baby brother on my hip. (I would say the baby was “hanging on for dear life” but the truth is he is THE WORST holder-onner I’ve ever met. There’s no 50/50, Floppy McFlopperson let’s you do allll the work and then some.) As I maneuvered between parked cars trying to grab the toddler, I failed to notice where the baby’s head was in relation to a vehicle’s side mirrors…which is how I ended up ramming his face directly into one. Hard. Like, head-snapped-back hard. He cried. I apologized, never…
Missing: One Toddlertastic Human
My camera roll is currently full of Hutton being an awesome 2 year old. Eating a bowl of M&Ms for breakfast, coloring on his infant brother, polishing off a bag of popcorn in the pantry, painting the floor with acrylic paint…he’s, like, so good at being a toddler. (The best part of this picture is the sharpie-d on facial tiger stripes that I had yet to wipe off from hours earlier, long before the hair gel bath. SO toddlertastic.) He’s my dicey child. He’s either sitting in your lap being an innocent snugglebug OR he’s in the shower getting both himself and my iPhone clean. There’s really no in between. // One fun thing about having…
Random Acts of…Something
Beckett loves going to the doctor. He also loves the act of taking medicine (which totally worked to my advantage recently when I gave him shots of 100% carrot juice every day for, like, 3 weeks straight). Any time one of his brothers is sick, he tries super hard to be sick, too. Maybe it’s the extra cuddling they get. Maybe it’s the medicine they take. Whatever it is, he wants it. So, naturally, he was oddly jealous this morning when Hutton took his antibiotics. (Antibiotics for his 4th double ear infection in 3 months, by the way.) (….if you listen closely you can hear my essential oiler friends giggle with glee at the prospect of wheeling their…
Crafternoons are for the {pinterest} birds.
A few years ago my favorite pair of earrings went missing. I couldn’t find them for weeks until, one day, I spotted the very corner of them dangling out of the toilet paper roll in the bathroom. Because children. They’re always misplacing things. I can’t be too hard on them, though, because I’ve been misplacing lots of stuff lately. Like…entire days. “Oh wow…it’s Friday already? I could’ve sworn we were on Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.” I misplaced 3 solid days last week. Honestly can’t tell you what we did, where we went, what we wore, when we last bathed. (The more I think about it, the more I realize what a lucky…
You’re Right Up My Alley
Pre-parent-me found the phrase “date your kids” horrifying. The sentiment is sweet, the wording is creepy. Parent-me totally dates the crap out of my kids. Parent-me disappoints pre-parent-me in lots of areas, now that I think about it. Like the atrocity that is my vocal cords trying to make my infant smile. Or like the amount of times I say “silly” in a given day. What grown adult says “silly”? A parent, that’s who. What are we even talking about? Dating your children. Yes. So, Saturday, I had a surprise dinner-and-bowling date planned for Beckett. Instead of just telling him our plan, I wanted to “put an exclamation point on the memory” (a…
…more like how do YOU doin’ (it)?!
When my 7 week old was screaming the other night – you know, during the “purple cry” hours of 6-8pm – I muttered some, “Oh hush up, you’re fine.” before opening Photo Booth on my computer. Because if you’re going to have an inconsolable child, might as well find a way to entertain yourself to pass the time. This is what happens with a third newborn. Had this been my first newborn, I would have been reciting the 5 Happiest Baby on the Block s’s while silently weeping, wondering where I went wrong and how to get a baby diagnosed with colic (whatever that is). Since it isn’t my first newborn, I felt great about…
Please Stop Wishing for a Girl on my Behalf
Brooks boy #3 has a name! A real name to put with a real face. (And real javelins disguised as legs that pierce my spinal column with each kick. That’s neither here nor there, just a struggle I’d like to mention.) A real name to get embroidered on bibs because that’s what Southern people love. I’m pretty excited about it. I should tell you his name – if for no other reason than to tempt you into making him bibs – but I won’t. I have taken a vow of silence. I’ve never been in the “let’s keep the gender/name/this entire pregnancy a secret until the baby is born” camp because I’m horrible (HORRIBLE) at keeping…
The Evolution of Pregnancies
Everything is different with each subsequent pregnancy. And I mean everything. Energy, womb elasticity, TUMS consumption…all of it. When you’re pregnant with your first, it consumes you. (And you kind of assume everyone else is consumed by it, too.) You think, eat, talk, sleep, and breathe “like a pregnant person”. Gone is normal life. It’s all replaced by pregnant life. (Like, I didn’t even vacuum when I was pregnant the first time because I thought it might be too strenuous. WHAT.) By your second, you realize “pregnant life” isn’t actually a thing. Yes, life during those 9 months is unique, but it’s not your whole identity like it once was. Your existing child now takes up…
