Grown up language and such to follow...
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – and adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
-Tina Fey
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Thursday, April 21
Friday, October 1
Sunday, February 28
On Having More (but really on having less)
(This post prompted by Catherine)
I get the question "Do you want more?” on a regular basis. Once people learn we had two kids back to back, they assume we wants a house full of kids. Guess what? We have a house full of kids and all their tiny socks. We have the permanent imprint of Legos on the soles of our feet. The laundry never stops. The closets are full. Trust me, we are busting at the seams with little people.
Plus, we planned on having two all along. We were blessed to get pregnant when we wanted. We were even more blessed with two perfectly healthy kids. To top it all off we have one of each. What more could parents want? I feel we would be pushing our luck to try to make this family any larger. How could we possibly be so lucky again when so many families are not? Now, don't get me wrong. There wouldn't be an ounce of regret if an "oops" happened. Panic? Yes. Regret? No chance.
Despite everything panning out as we hoped, there is a part of me that wants more kids. They always say you will know when your family is complete. I can honestly say I don’t have that feeling. For a long time, thoughts of a third child always came along when I focused less on what I wanted and more on what I wanted my children to have…. more. I don't really want to grow, birth or stay up all night with more kids... I just want my kids to have more siblings. When I think about Westbrook and Llandis only having one sibling it makes me profoundly sad. I had three growing up. That is enough people in the house for a good game of charades or Uno. There were always three others with which to fight, laugh, argue, or scheme. Chances are another sibling would eat less at dinner or yell louder allowing me to escape punishment. (In case you are wondering, we called this easy to catch other sibling Drew.)
One would guess that the pull for more children comes in the quiet moments when my two are playing nicely and sleeping soundly. Or perhaps when the house is clean and I have it all figured out. In fact, it is the opposite. I want more kids after large family gatherings where everyone talks at once, Mom is panicking in the kitchen about the turkey, Ben is scowling as he lugs extra chairs out of the attic and the kids are attempting to scream their heads off with their cousins. Watching the chaos makes me realize that there should be more of us.
I have come to realize that dreams of more children are not actually about children at all. My need for a larger family has nothing to do with Westbrook and Llandis having more siblings (although I will always wish they had more). No amount of children, mine or my siblings, could make our family what I need it to be. We are missing an entire portion of our family. Drew, his wife, their children. The void is too large to fill.
So do I want more? Yes but we are going to have to settle for less. No matter how large we grew our family we would always be short a few people. So we are done for now with no plans to restart the factory. We will leave the next round for others.
I get the question "Do you want more?” on a regular basis. Once people learn we had two kids back to back, they assume we wants a house full of kids. Guess what? We have a house full of kids and all their tiny socks. We have the permanent imprint of Legos on the soles of our feet. The laundry never stops. The closets are full. Trust me, we are busting at the seams with little people.
Plus, we planned on having two all along. We were blessed to get pregnant when we wanted. We were even more blessed with two perfectly healthy kids. To top it all off we have one of each. What more could parents want? I feel we would be pushing our luck to try to make this family any larger. How could we possibly be so lucky again when so many families are not? Now, don't get me wrong. There wouldn't be an ounce of regret if an "oops" happened. Panic? Yes. Regret? No chance.
Despite everything panning out as we hoped, there is a part of me that wants more kids. They always say you will know when your family is complete. I can honestly say I don’t have that feeling. For a long time, thoughts of a third child always came along when I focused less on what I wanted and more on what I wanted my children to have…. more. I don't really want to grow, birth or stay up all night with more kids... I just want my kids to have more siblings. When I think about Westbrook and Llandis only having one sibling it makes me profoundly sad. I had three growing up. That is enough people in the house for a good game of charades or Uno. There were always three others with which to fight, laugh, argue, or scheme. Chances are another sibling would eat less at dinner or yell louder allowing me to escape punishment. (In case you are wondering, we called this easy to catch other sibling Drew.)
One would guess that the pull for more children comes in the quiet moments when my two are playing nicely and sleeping soundly. Or perhaps when the house is clean and I have it all figured out. In fact, it is the opposite. I want more kids after large family gatherings where everyone talks at once, Mom is panicking in the kitchen about the turkey, Ben is scowling as he lugs extra chairs out of the attic and the kids are attempting to scream their heads off with their cousins. Watching the chaos makes me realize that there should be more of us.
I have come to realize that dreams of more children are not actually about children at all. My need for a larger family has nothing to do with Westbrook and Llandis having more siblings (although I will always wish they had more). No amount of children, mine or my siblings, could make our family what I need it to be. We are missing an entire portion of our family. Drew, his wife, their children. The void is too large to fill.
So do I want more? Yes but we are going to have to settle for less. No matter how large we grew our family we would always be short a few people. So we are done for now with no plans to restart the factory. We will leave the next round for others.
Sunday, January 3
10 Years
Here we are in 2010... a new decade. The last decade was pretty profound. My life changed more than it probably will in any other decade. For a friend's website, I did a quick snapshot of the main events in the last ten years. The transition from college junior to wife & mother is pretty overwhelming.
In the last ten years, I...
- Turned 21
- Woke up every morning for 3 months staring at the Twin Towers- they were gone a month after I left NYC
- Graduated college
- Eagerly started my career
- Got married
- Changed career paths to be both proud of the work I do and successful at the same time
- Bought our first house on our first wedding anniversary
- Days later, heard "they think it's cancer" and actually laughed because it sounded ridiculous
- Had two healthy, happy, perfect babies
- Watched both of my brothers grow into fine men
- Made the bestest best friend a girl can have
- Said goodbye to Drew and any optimistic innocence I had left
- Discovered that without a sense of humor motherhood will kill you
- Watched my sister finally become the mother to more kids than any of us could handle (yet she can)
- Did not turn 30. That's for this decade. (Just in case you were wondering.) ((I know, I know. I look really young for my age. No stop. You flatter me. It's embarrassing. Really.)) (((Keep going)))((((.... even if you are lying.))))
Wednesday, November 25
I am tired.
I am tired.
I need a nap.
Not the type of nap where you wake up with your book on the floor, glasses smashed into your temple and drool on your shirt.
I want the type of nap you take in a hammock on a cool day under a blanket.
I want to wake up to find things more peaceful than when I went to sleep.
To rise to a clean house and folded laundry.
Without paying for it.
I want to sleep with my kids.
Not just when they are sick and I am at risk of being awoken to someone throwing up in my ear. (It happened once, it could happen again.)
I want Llandis to sleep on my chest until our hearts beat together.
I want her chubby body to keep me warm even if it means my arms fall asleep under her weight.
If I could simply snuggle cuddle with Westbrook for an entire night.
Let his mumbles and giggles become part of my dreams as well.
To sleep in his little bed on the camping bear sheets my grandparents gave me as a child.
And under the warm blanket I made for Drew.
The blanket my father, mother, and a boyfriend named Wade helped me stitch the night before Drew left for boarding school.
I want to sleep curled up next to my husband.
I want to stay in bed for a day without guilt for chores left undone.
I need a nights sleep that doesn't involve dreams of work.
I need a nap.
I am so so tired.
And thankful for the wonderful life that exhausts me to my core.
Friday, November 6
A Day in The Life
I don't post much about Wade and myself because, frankly, we aren't all that cute. I took a trip to Nashville recently that was exciting and worth sharing.
The plan: Get up at 4:30 am, catch a flight to Washington to then get on a flight to Nashville, and meet up with a coworker for a 45 minute meeting with a new customer. Then, wait for 4-6 hours for my return flight to Charlotte via Washington. Be home around 1 am. Sounds pretty painful but simple, right? Not so much.
The reality: When I woke up at 4:30am I knew I was in trouble. The night before I had an unexplained headache. I get a lot of aches (old lady hip, crunchy knees, failing pacemakers) but rarely headaches. I knew is was an ear infection when I bent down to get my shoes. I searched our medicine cabinet for an OTC pain medication that would allow me to get through the day. The only meds I found were two c-sections and two pacemaker surgeries worth of heavy duty stuff and a bottle of Aleve that expired in 2007. Since I was meeting a coworker in Nashville and my ticket cost a startling $750 for a middle coach seat, I had no choice but to keep moving. The morning flights were painful. Ear infections plus altitude changes equals intense piercing pain in your brain. It was hands down the worst pain I have ever felt up to that point. Keep in mind folks...I have had two kids.
The day progressed as expected. My hearing was foggy and I was a little dizzy from a combination of pain and sinus pressure. Did I mention the sinus pressure yet? It started on my flight to Washington but got brain melting mid-air to Nashville. At the meeting, a very important meeting, I met the new buyer. She is an abrasive southern woman with a thick accent. Her accent was completely inaudible to my fluid filled ears. I heard a few things but only said a collective 10 words. Six of those words were um or uh. It was bad. Thankfully, my co-worker picked up my slack.
Back at the airport, my co-worker breezed through security while the TSA agent asked me to confirm my weight, height, hair color, eye color, used the flash light on my ID, and asked me to repeat my address- twice. My coworker caught his direct flight home while I settled in to a booth at Starbucks to get some work done. I had six hours before my flight was scheduled to leave. About four hours, four Power Point presentations and 27 spread sheets worth of data later, my vision was dismal and my hearing was shot. I asked an attendant which Washington flight and gate I should head towards. Of course it was on the opposite side of the airport. At the gate, I double checked I was in the right place and was told my gate moved.... back to the other side of the airport.
I waited along with everyone else headed to DC. The flight was supposed to take off at 7 pm but didn't start boarding until 8 pm. The attendant scanned my ticket, said something under her breath, and handed me my ticket. She nearly clotheslined me when I tried to proceed towards the plane. Since I couldn't hear her, I missed the important details of her comments. Wrong flight. Wrong time. Wrong concourse. Wrong airline.
Super.
And the airline had no more flights. Nor did my original airline.
Superduper.
I checked the flight board while praying to all available flight gods for a flight that would get me home. USAir had a flight scheduled for 8:20 direct to Charlotte. The gate? The exact opposite end of the airport. So I ran. In heels. In hose. In a dress. With a heavy work bag. And boy did I run....like a woman in heels wearing hose, Spanx, a wrap around dress carrying a heavy bag and off balance from a combined ear-sinus infection. I can not imagine what I looked like and I don't want to try. It is just too ugly.
During my run, I tried to determine how much I would pay for a ticket to get me home. Should I expense it? Should I pay? If the ticket is less than a hotel room, could I justify expensing the cost? If I paid out of pocket, could we afford an unexpected $300 expense?
I arrived at the USAir gate as folks were boarding. With tears in my eyes, I plead my case to the nice man behind the desk. He was so lovely to me. The flight was full, however, the 5 pm flight was still delayed with plenty of room. He wouldn't charge me for a ticket if Northwest would just transfer the ticket. He explained that all I needed to do was got the NWA desk and request a transfer. He gave me the codes I needed and sent me on my way.... the other side of the airport. The Nashville airport has three long concourses that meet in the middle. He instructed me to the third concourse which would at least be new scenery. He was also clear that I had only 45 minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. So I ran. Again. And my bag handles broke. So I ran while holding my 25lb bag in front of my chest.
Only this time there was no one at the desk. They had closed for the day since there were no more flights in or out. My only option was to go outside security and hope someone was at the main desk. I confirmed with the security officer four times that I could get back in if the NWA lady was gone.
There was an NWA lady at the desk but she was sassy, grumpy, and busy taking out the trash. She was annoyed at my request. She was annoyed that I couldn't hear her and asked her to repeat everything. (Just talk louder lady!) Her computer wouldn't print so she had to go through the process twice. The longer I stood there, the more I knew that I wasn't going to get home. I was going to have to get a hotel room and tons of medicine. I wouldn't make it home in time to get to the doctor the next day.
Finally, she handed me my ticket while rolling her eyes so hard I am surprised she stayed upright.
More running.
The same security agent that let me out checked my id and pass. More flashlights and questions. Tick tock. Tick tock. I pulled out my computer, my phone, took off my shoes and coat. Since I have a pacemaker, it is advised that I skip the metal detector and get the pat down. So there I am half dressed waiting for a pat down when a police officer and the TSA manager come over. For inexperienced fliers, you should know that this isn't good.
Where did you get the boarding pass?
Who issued it?
Please state your full name.
Birthdate.
Address.
Why are you flying?
How often do you fly?
Are you flying alone?
Did you check a bag?
They made copies of my ID and my ticket.
"Mrs. Cox, we need to take a walk."
I start crying while trying not to cry. I sense a strip search in future. Instead, we walk back out of security to the NWA desk. The not-so-kind lady is too busy to help me. She is on the phone talking loudly about her DVR. So we wait. Me sniffling. Cop pacing. TSA lady asking me question after question about my ticket. Did you know that when you are found with a "suspicious boarding pass" that you will have a police escort the remainder of your visit at the airport? Yeah. You do.
Finally, little miss NWA finished her important call and assisted us in printing the appropriate papers so we could go to USAir to get a real boarding pass.
For the time sensitive, I should have missed my new flight by now but it was delayed even more.
So with my police escort, I waited while the TSA door man checked my ID... again. Flashlights and questions. I got the obligatory pat down. And then I ran. (The cop fast walked)
I got to gate and it was empty. The gate moved.... to the other side of the airport. The farthest possible gate from where I was standing.
Take a guess as to what me and my armed shadow did next. Run.
When we finally arrived at the right gate with the right ticket, I found 30 frustrated delayed people staring wide eyed at me- sweaty, blotchy and red faced with a cop in tow. The only thing people LOVE more than having their flight delayed is knowing a fellow passenger is being tailed by a police officer. Honestly, I didn't care about the stares and whispers. I was going home.
The direct flight home was even more painful than the morning flights. The guy nearby and the flight attendant asked me if I needed medical care when we landed. What I needed was my bed and my Wade.
I finally walked in the door at 11pm.
Wade asked me "How was your day?"
I realized that while my day turned into a complete debacle leaving me forever on the TSA list I was home earlier than expected. And I got in lots of cardio.
I responded "Eh, it's a toss up."
The plan: Get up at 4:30 am, catch a flight to Washington to then get on a flight to Nashville, and meet up with a coworker for a 45 minute meeting with a new customer. Then, wait for 4-6 hours for my return flight to Charlotte via Washington. Be home around 1 am. Sounds pretty painful but simple, right? Not so much.
The reality: When I woke up at 4:30am I knew I was in trouble. The night before I had an unexplained headache. I get a lot of aches (old lady hip, crunchy knees, failing pacemakers) but rarely headaches. I knew is was an ear infection when I bent down to get my shoes. I searched our medicine cabinet for an OTC pain medication that would allow me to get through the day. The only meds I found were two c-sections and two pacemaker surgeries worth of heavy duty stuff and a bottle of Aleve that expired in 2007. Since I was meeting a coworker in Nashville and my ticket cost a startling $750 for a middle coach seat, I had no choice but to keep moving. The morning flights were painful. Ear infections plus altitude changes equals intense piercing pain in your brain. It was hands down the worst pain I have ever felt up to that point. Keep in mind folks...I have had two kids.
The day progressed as expected. My hearing was foggy and I was a little dizzy from a combination of pain and sinus pressure. Did I mention the sinus pressure yet? It started on my flight to Washington but got brain melting mid-air to Nashville. At the meeting, a very important meeting, I met the new buyer. She is an abrasive southern woman with a thick accent. Her accent was completely inaudible to my fluid filled ears. I heard a few things but only said a collective 10 words. Six of those words were um or uh. It was bad. Thankfully, my co-worker picked up my slack.
Back at the airport, my co-worker breezed through security while the TSA agent asked me to confirm my weight, height, hair color, eye color, used the flash light on my ID, and asked me to repeat my address- twice. My coworker caught his direct flight home while I settled in to a booth at Starbucks to get some work done. I had six hours before my flight was scheduled to leave. About four hours, four Power Point presentations and 27 spread sheets worth of data later, my vision was dismal and my hearing was shot. I asked an attendant which Washington flight and gate I should head towards. Of course it was on the opposite side of the airport. At the gate, I double checked I was in the right place and was told my gate moved.... back to the other side of the airport.
I waited along with everyone else headed to DC. The flight was supposed to take off at 7 pm but didn't start boarding until 8 pm. The attendant scanned my ticket, said something under her breath, and handed me my ticket. She nearly clotheslined me when I tried to proceed towards the plane. Since I couldn't hear her, I missed the important details of her comments. Wrong flight. Wrong time. Wrong concourse. Wrong airline.
Super.
And the airline had no more flights. Nor did my original airline.
Superduper.
I checked the flight board while praying to all available flight gods for a flight that would get me home. USAir had a flight scheduled for 8:20 direct to Charlotte. The gate? The exact opposite end of the airport. So I ran. In heels. In hose. In a dress. With a heavy work bag. And boy did I run....like a woman in heels wearing hose, Spanx, a wrap around dress carrying a heavy bag and off balance from a combined ear-sinus infection. I can not imagine what I looked like and I don't want to try. It is just too ugly.
During my run, I tried to determine how much I would pay for a ticket to get me home. Should I expense it? Should I pay? If the ticket is less than a hotel room, could I justify expensing the cost? If I paid out of pocket, could we afford an unexpected $300 expense?
I arrived at the USAir gate as folks were boarding. With tears in my eyes, I plead my case to the nice man behind the desk. He was so lovely to me. The flight was full, however, the 5 pm flight was still delayed with plenty of room. He wouldn't charge me for a ticket if Northwest would just transfer the ticket. He explained that all I needed to do was got the NWA desk and request a transfer. He gave me the codes I needed and sent me on my way.... the other side of the airport. The Nashville airport has three long concourses that meet in the middle. He instructed me to the third concourse which would at least be new scenery. He was also clear that I had only 45 minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. So I ran. Again. And my bag handles broke. So I ran while holding my 25lb bag in front of my chest.
Only this time there was no one at the desk. They had closed for the day since there were no more flights in or out. My only option was to go outside security and hope someone was at the main desk. I confirmed with the security officer four times that I could get back in if the NWA lady was gone.
There was an NWA lady at the desk but she was sassy, grumpy, and busy taking out the trash. She was annoyed at my request. She was annoyed that I couldn't hear her and asked her to repeat everything. (Just talk louder lady!) Her computer wouldn't print so she had to go through the process twice. The longer I stood there, the more I knew that I wasn't going to get home. I was going to have to get a hotel room and tons of medicine. I wouldn't make it home in time to get to the doctor the next day.
Finally, she handed me my ticket while rolling her eyes so hard I am surprised she stayed upright.
More running.
The same security agent that let me out checked my id and pass. More flashlights and questions. Tick tock. Tick tock. I pulled out my computer, my phone, took off my shoes and coat. Since I have a pacemaker, it is advised that I skip the metal detector and get the pat down. So there I am half dressed waiting for a pat down when a police officer and the TSA manager come over. For inexperienced fliers, you should know that this isn't good.
Where did you get the boarding pass?
Who issued it?
Please state your full name.
Birthdate.
Address.
Why are you flying?
How often do you fly?
Are you flying alone?
Did you check a bag?
They made copies of my ID and my ticket.
"Mrs. Cox, we need to take a walk."
I start crying while trying not to cry. I sense a strip search in future. Instead, we walk back out of security to the NWA desk. The not-so-kind lady is too busy to help me. She is on the phone talking loudly about her DVR. So we wait. Me sniffling. Cop pacing. TSA lady asking me question after question about my ticket. Did you know that when you are found with a "suspicious boarding pass" that you will have a police escort the remainder of your visit at the airport? Yeah. You do.
Finally, little miss NWA finished her important call and assisted us in printing the appropriate papers so we could go to USAir to get a real boarding pass.
For the time sensitive, I should have missed my new flight by now but it was delayed even more.
So with my police escort, I waited while the TSA door man checked my ID... again. Flashlights and questions. I got the obligatory pat down. And then I ran. (The cop fast walked)
I got to gate and it was empty. The gate moved.... to the other side of the airport. The farthest possible gate from where I was standing.
Take a guess as to what me and my armed shadow did next. Run.
When we finally arrived at the right gate with the right ticket, I found 30 frustrated delayed people staring wide eyed at me- sweaty, blotchy and red faced with a cop in tow. The only thing people LOVE more than having their flight delayed is knowing a fellow passenger is being tailed by a police officer. Honestly, I didn't care about the stares and whispers. I was going home.
The direct flight home was even more painful than the morning flights. The guy nearby and the flight attendant asked me if I needed medical care when we landed. What I needed was my bed and my Wade.
I finally walked in the door at 11pm.
Wade asked me "How was your day?"
I realized that while my day turned into a complete debacle leaving me forever on the TSA list I was home earlier than expected. And I got in lots of cardio.
I responded "Eh, it's a toss up."
The next morning I surveyed the carnage: Ear infection. Sinus infection. Bronchitis. (Surprise!) Broken Bag. (Did I mention I had bought the bag the day before? It was less than 24 hours old when it broke)
There you have it. A day in the life of the traveling working mom show. Awesome, eh?
Thursday, October 15
A Big Day
I opened a fortune cookie on Monday that said Thursday would be a big day in my life. Not sure that it was but it was a big day in the lives of people we care about dearly. We have been thinking about them all day.
*Josh had surgery to clear out an infection in his ongoing battle to regain his health after colon & lung cancer. I haven't heard an update yet but hope to tonight or tomorrow.
**Kerri, aka RiRi... aakkaa Stinky RiRi, had a birthday. A BIG birthday. Westbrook drew a pretty picture and Llandis made spots (on herself and the paper) to celebrate. We also called with a silly birthday song. The real celebrating comes this weekend- grown up style.
***Oct 15 is National Day of Remembrance for Infant Loss. Several of our friends have suffered unimaginable losses in the past few years. We always remember and love the children they have lost. We always remember that they are mothers of more children than they put to bed each night. But today, we remember them even more.
*Josh had surgery to clear out an infection in his ongoing battle to regain his health after colon & lung cancer. I haven't heard an update yet but hope to tonight or tomorrow.
**Kerri, aka RiRi... aakkaa Stinky RiRi, had a birthday. A BIG birthday. Westbrook drew a pretty picture and Llandis made spots (on herself and the paper) to celebrate. We also called with a silly birthday song. The real celebrating comes this weekend- grown up style.
***Oct 15 is National Day of Remembrance for Infant Loss. Several of our friends have suffered unimaginable losses in the past few years. We always remember and love the children they have lost. We always remember that they are mothers of more children than they put to bed each night. But today, we remember them even more.
Wednesday, October 14
Things Said, Things Broken
Westbrook woke up with a seal cough at 2 am so he got to stay home from school today. He spent most of the day watching movies, playing blocks, and coloring. I hate when the kids are sick but I love getting them to myself for the day, especially when they feel good enough that I can still work. After a quick trip to the doctors office, we stopped by Target to pick up the recommended meds. Westbrook turned to me and said "Mommy, I love hanging out with you on our special day. " Then, he gave me a very loving kiss. Two women passing by almost fainted from the cuteness they witnessed.
Tonight, the kids were the root of a very loud crash. Ceramic pumpkin down. I should note that I bought the ill fated pumpkin to replace the one they broke last year. I guess I should give up on ceramic pumpkins until we reach the grace period between the kids leaving for college and arriving with grandkids. (Did I just mention my own grandkids when my own children are only 2 & 3? Oy.)
Tonight, the kids were the root of a very loud crash. Ceramic pumpkin down. I should note that I bought the ill fated pumpkin to replace the one they broke last year. I guess I should give up on ceramic pumpkins until we reach the grace period between the kids leaving for college and arriving with grandkids. (Did I just mention my own grandkids when my own children are only 2 & 3? Oy.)
So how did Westbrook react when I came into the room to clean up the pumpkin? "Mommy, I am sorry you put that pretty pumpkin somewhere that Baby Sister and I could break it. It isn't really your fault. It isn't my fault. Or Baby Sisters."
Sunday, October 4
Night Night Kisses
Like any parent, I always worry that my kids don't grasp how much I love them. Sure I tell them all day long and give them every kiss I can plus a few extra since WB sometimes "takes them off." I do everything I can to let them know they are the most loved little people on earth but I also get frustrated with them. I get tired of them spitting their milk or leaving blocks underfoot. I get angry which means no one in the house is happy. Although to be honest I am normally angry at myself for letting them get too hungry, tired, or out of control. All we can do, as parents, is give them all we have in the hope that it sinks in and sticks.
Lately, both kids have been role playing their bedtime routine. They spend several minutes* rocking, singing, and "shhhh"ing Rocko** to sleep. Tonight, Llandis sang "Night Night Uh Huh Rocko Rocko Rocko Night Night Love Rocko." They give hugs. They give kisses. They switch Rockos and give more kisses. They gently put their baby doll down in the bed of choice... fireplace, cradle, crib, under the couch. Belly pats are given while they pull up blankies. Finally, they sing a little more and tip toe away.
They put their babies to sleep the way we put our babies to sleep- songs, hugs, kisses, pats, and tip toes. They do it with so much tenderness that it makes me feel like we might just be getting through to them. The love we are trying to give them is making it in, filling them up and they are giving it back.
Makes me happy. Very, very happy.
*several minutes=hours in toddler time
**All baby dolls are called Rocko
Monday, September 7
End of Summer Countdown
Summer is ending and preschool is beginning! Today is the kids last day of freedom before they head off to preschool in the morning. In the past we have kept Llandis home with a nanny a few days a week and let her go to school a few days. Starting tomorrow they are both attending 5 days a week (gasp!). Having them both in 5 days will be so much easier on our schedules and our budget.
Westbrook is super excited about seeing his favorite friends and being in Ms. Elsie's 3 year old class. Ms. E teaches the after-school program that the kids went to a few times last year. He adores her. He also listens exceptionally well to her which will make the transition from summer to school much easier for both of them. There will be 8 kids in his class, 3 of which have been together since the toddler class and another 3 that were in his class last year.
Llandis was a little apprehensive at her open house. She hid behind me trying to avoid any contact with the teachers. I think the only thing she remembers about school is that I drop her off there. Once she gets into the routine she will get more comfortable. Since they don't have a 5 day toddler program, she is in a MWF class and a TTH class. I am excited that we know and love all of her teachers. She will have the same teachers as last year, Ms. Christy and Ms. Lori, plus Ms. Dee (Westbrook's toddler teacher) and Ms. Desiree (Westbrook's 2's teacher). The added bonus is that her cousin, Bella, is going to be in her TTH class. They will be the only girls in the class which will be entertaining. (NOTE: For future joke purposes... yes, Llandis is "repeating" her toddler year but only because she was way too young to go last year but the director made an exception because she was so cute & chubby.)
Since both kids are going 5 days a week this year, we had to say goodbye to our nanny, Ms. Nancy, of the last year. She has been such a wonderful member of the family. We are all going to miss having her around a few days a week. (Not to mention the fact that she did all the kids laundry... whimper.) On her last day, in true preschooler form, the kids were completely disinterested in saying goodbye to her. Westbrook and Llandis were very busy being doctors.
BTW- if any local mama's are looking for some help, I can hook you up with Ms. N. She is the best.
Sunday, June 28
I am not a housewife (I just play one on TV)
I can not wait for work to end each day especially in the summer when I can hear the kids downstairs playing with Wade most of the day. Putting on an apron and making dinner is my way of detaching from the working-me and turning on the mom-me. However, the combo of long hot days and not seeing me since the morning makes both kids clingy and desperate for attention. To be honest, I am attacked by two wild animals instead of children.
On take-out or PB & J nights, I hang with the kids. However, kids can only eat so much PB&J before they turn into PB&J. (My mom told me so once and I believe it. She also warned me about Watermelon seeds- I'd hate to have one of those suckers growing in my belly.) (Hmm, maybe my nonflat belly would indicate that I have a watermelon in there rather than being a reflection of my cookie eating issue) One night while simultaneously walking laps around the kitchen island to entertain Llandis* and trying to peel something, I realized we needed an organized consistent plan for dinner time madness. Plus, peeling veggies and playing chase is hazardous.
Some evenings they do a little art project like playdough or stamps while other nights they help me cook. Llandis likes to "ride" in the sling and Westbrook sits atop a stool handed down from Grandma Brown & Pop. For a while Llandis would also sit on the big stool but there was an incident involving a fall to the tile (Thanks again Suppy for catching her noggin with your foot).
Cooking together is so much fun for all of us. I get to wear a lovely apron and Llandis. WB wears his awesome alligator apron (thanks Ri!). I love having them in the kitchen with me, all of us working together and trying to coach them on following directions. The added bonus is my sometimes picky WB is always proud and excited about the meal which makes him more likely to eat. Family cooking also makes for great pictures.
Pizza is always an easy choice...
(Yes, I should have edited this pic so you couldn't tell Wade was shirtless, but then you wouldn't be able to see WB's little eyes watching in amazement. I debated on how many people would be offended and how many people could care less. It was toss up....get it?)
Also fun, making Popsicles!
*Playing chase is Llandis' favorite game. She doesn't care if she is chasing or being chased so long as everyone in motion.
On take-out or PB & J nights, I hang with the kids. However, kids can only eat so much PB&J before they turn into PB&J. (My mom told me so once and I believe it. She also warned me about Watermelon seeds- I'd hate to have one of those suckers growing in my belly.) (Hmm, maybe my nonflat belly would indicate that I have a watermelon in there rather than being a reflection of my cookie eating issue) One night while simultaneously walking laps around the kitchen island to entertain Llandis* and trying to peel something, I realized we needed an organized consistent plan for dinner time madness. Plus, peeling veggies and playing chase is hazardous.
Some evenings they do a little art project like playdough or stamps while other nights they help me cook. Llandis likes to "ride" in the sling and Westbrook sits atop a stool handed down from Grandma Brown & Pop. For a while Llandis would also sit on the big stool but there was an incident involving a fall to the tile (Thanks again Suppy for catching her noggin with your foot).
Cooking together is so much fun for all of us. I get to wear a lovely apron and Llandis. WB wears his awesome alligator apron (thanks Ri!). I love having them in the kitchen with me, all of us working together and trying to coach them on following directions. The added bonus is my sometimes picky WB is always proud and excited about the meal which makes him more likely to eat. Family cooking also makes for great pictures.
Pizza is always an easy choice...
(Yes, I should have edited this pic so you couldn't tell Wade was shirtless, but then you wouldn't be able to see WB's little eyes watching in amazement. I debated on how many people would be offended and how many people could care less. It was toss up....get it?)
Also fun, making Popsicles!
When they can't help because hot skillets or ovens are involved, they get to have appetizer. FYI: Westbrook loves to say the word appetizer.
While the pizzas were baking, WB adding some cool additions to his pj pants & apron outfit.
*Playing chase is Llandis' favorite game. She doesn't care if she is chasing or being chased so long as everyone in motion.
Saturday, April 18
Overwhelmed
The level of perfection around here is astounding. Llandis has been even brighter and more beautiful that ever. We had a fabulous girls day involving shopping (IKEA!), eating (homemade chocolate chip rice crispy treats), napping (4+ hours for her, working out for me), and hanging out. She is so much more than I ever guessed a daughter could be. I started crying big fat ugly tears when I put her to bed tonight. She was kissing my neck and chin while saying love*. She overwhelms me.
In other news, Westbrook is also the picture of a son lately. Yesterday, while Llandis napped, I let him skip the nap to help me make Chex Mix and previously mentioned marshmallowy treats. Westbrook told me I looked like a pretty butterfly in the sunshine in my yellow skirt and favorite apron. He wore a doggie bib that squeaks when you touch the nose as his apron. We had a blast working together in the kitchen. He told me all about his day at school with his friends while we poured and stirred everything together. He stood at the sink washing dishes** talking about his upcoming camping trip with Daddy. Today, he thanked me for each part of his lunch individually which just about caused heart failure. “Oh Mommy, thank you for my watermelon. Oh Mommy, thank you for my dipping sauce and crunchies (hummus & carrots). Wow Mommy, thank you my egg. I really like it. Thank you sooooo much. I am so happy right now.” He takes my breath away.
Tonight, I will thank my lucky stars.
*ok, she was also saying “crackers” but I won’t let that ruin the moment.
**aka playing at the sink when it is full of dirty dishes
In other news, Westbrook is also the picture of a son lately. Yesterday, while Llandis napped, I let him skip the nap to help me make Chex Mix and previously mentioned marshmallowy treats. Westbrook told me I looked like a pretty butterfly in the sunshine in my yellow skirt and favorite apron. He wore a doggie bib that squeaks when you touch the nose as his apron. We had a blast working together in the kitchen. He told me all about his day at school with his friends while we poured and stirred everything together. He stood at the sink washing dishes** talking about his upcoming camping trip with Daddy. Today, he thanked me for each part of his lunch individually which just about caused heart failure. “Oh Mommy, thank you for my watermelon. Oh Mommy, thank you for my dipping sauce and crunchies (hummus & carrots). Wow Mommy, thank you my egg. I really like it. Thank you sooooo much. I am so happy right now.” He takes my breath away.
Tonight, I will thank my lucky stars.
*ok, she was also saying “crackers” but I won’t let that ruin the moment.
**aka playing at the sink when it is full of dirty dishes
Tuesday, March 31
My Descent (with edits)
Despite the mother I wanted to be and was for a while....my kids eat mac & cheese....often. They also eat french fries. Last night they dipped everything on their plates in ketchup. We have cable TV now. I use said TV to occupy them a few mornings a week to get lunches together.
Worst of all...
I bribed the kids at Target with new toys. Here is Llandis with her booty of Mickey Mouse dolls. In my shallow defense, the dolls were less than $1. And why four dolls when I only have two kids... they both have two hands. When they are fussy and don't want to ride while I calculate which brand of TP is a better deal, heaven help us if Llandis doesn't have one toy for each hand.
I don't know why I thought I could avoid all of the above. Did I think I had figured out the magic way to raise kids with out ketchup or bribery? It isn't possible. Even if you (yes you-judgemental mommy of one or nine who hasn't gone there yet) think it will never happen... one day you will be at Target walking in circles trying desperately to remember why you came in the first place because you KNOW what you need is important. The kids will be screaming, the old ladies giving you the control-your-kids-death-stare, and suddenly four 50 cent Mickey's will be look like shining stars of mercy on the sale rack. There is a reason parents do all of the above...survival.
Are you the mother you thought you would be?
Worst of all...
I bribed the kids at Target with new toys. Here is Llandis with her booty of Mickey Mouse dolls. In my shallow defense, the dolls were less than $1. And why four dolls when I only have two kids... they both have two hands. When they are fussy and don't want to ride while I calculate which brand of TP is a better deal, heaven help us if Llandis doesn't have one toy for each hand.
I don't know why I thought I could avoid all of the above. Did I think I had figured out the magic way to raise kids with out ketchup or bribery? It isn't possible. Even if you (yes you-judgemental mommy of one or nine who hasn't gone there yet) think it will never happen... one day you will be at Target walking in circles trying desperately to remember why you came in the first place because you KNOW what you need is important. The kids will be screaming, the old ladies giving you the control-your-kids-death-stare, and suddenly four 50 cent Mickey's will be look like shining stars of mercy on the sale rack. There is a reason parents do all of the above...survival.
Are you the mother you thought you would be?
Monday, March 2
The Ugly T Word
I like to joke that I got the bum heart, the bad eyes, the pale skin, and the crappy metabolism while my brothers got all the good stuff.
I had hoped and prayed when I was carrying my kids that they would both get Wade's lovely tan skin, his naturally highlighted hair and understanding of all things physics. Above all, his working heart. From me, I wanted them to get freckles & for Llandis to get my curves after she turns 30. I never thought to pray for good tonsils. Turns out I gave them bum tonsils AND pale skin.
Llandis is going to need her tonsils pulled as soon as she is old enough. The doc said there is clearly a genetic issue with both kids tonsils not healing. The dang things were so swollen this morning she wasn't eating... you know she NEVER misses a meal!
Ah well. Not the biggest problem they could get. The jury is still out on the hair. WB got it plus the bonus mystery red. Llandis is looking like she is going to go childhood stringy like me but it gets thicker every few days. Fingers crossed.
I had hoped and prayed when I was carrying my kids that they would both get Wade's lovely tan skin, his naturally highlighted hair and understanding of all things physics. Above all, his working heart. From me, I wanted them to get freckles & for Llandis to get my curves after she turns 30. I never thought to pray for good tonsils. Turns out I gave them bum tonsils AND pale skin.
Llandis is going to need her tonsils pulled as soon as she is old enough. The doc said there is clearly a genetic issue with both kids tonsils not healing. The dang things were so swollen this morning she wasn't eating... you know she NEVER misses a meal!
Ah well. Not the biggest problem they could get. The jury is still out on the hair. WB got it plus the bonus mystery red. Llandis is looking like she is going to go childhood stringy like me but it gets thicker every few days. Fingers crossed.
Monday, February 16
Right Now
Westbrook is in his big boy bed! He has been up there about 20 minutes singing but hasn't gotten up yet. Who knows what the night will bring?
Pictures tomorrow (or in a week- I do the best I can)
Pictures tomorrow (or in a week- I do the best I can)
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