A Little Perspective

You know when you have one hard day after another and you're just tired of all the crap? That's been me lately. I noticed the other day that I was being pretty damn snippy with Kellen - riding his butt over stupid little things like tugging on my clothes or being too loud in the house. In my defense, he's ALWAYS tugging on my clothes, so much so that I feel like every shirt I own has been stretched so much that it now fits me more like a garbage bag than a shirt. And the boy is constantly L.O.U.D. I swear he has only volume setting and his off switch broke a long time ago.
It was at the end of one of these particularly hard days that I decided to take a walk after dinner to sooth my rattled nerves. It was almost dusk and the air was warm and scented with the heavenly fragrance of lilacs- one of my favorite flowers. I decided to stretch my walk out a little longer so I took a back route that ran alongside a cemetary. I hate cemetaries, but you can't beat the quiet there so I turned and walked into the gates. This particular cemetary is actually a very pretty place - very green with lots and lots of flowering trees and shrubs. It's secluded too - set back against a backdrop of woods that borders my neighborhood.
I kept walking and rounded a corner where I noticed an area with lots of flowers, toys, and
stuffed animals adorning the gravesites. I had found the cemetary's "Babyland." It was like I was drawn to the graves. The first one I read was for twin little boys who died March 2007 -just days before my second son was born. The second gravesite was for a little boy who passed away March 18, 2008 - 11 days before his 1st birthday. I started to cry as I walked among the little gravestones looking at the little toys, poems, and stuffed animals that had been lovingly placed on nearly every grave, no doubt by parents and famliy members whose hearts are still broken and empty from the loss of a child. I wanted to know what had happened to them - what totally unfair tragedy took such sweet little souls from this earth? I thought about my two little boys and how sometimes I get so fed up with them and I felt so small and ungrateful. I bet the parents of the little ones whose graves I stood next to would give anything in the world to have their children with them today.
I left the cemetary and walked home, crying the rest of the way. When I walked through the front door, I heard Kellen's voice in his bedroom. It was almost 9 and he should have been asleep by 8:15. Usually I get irritated when he farts around at bedtime, but this time I was actually happy that he was still awake. When I walked into his room he jumped out of bed and yelled "mommy, you're home. I was waiting for you" His voice was the sweetest sound I had heard all day and the weight of his body in my arms was the best feeling in the world.

When you have a son......

There's a saying that goes something like this - 'when you have a son, you work from son up to son down'. I can't for the life of me remember where or when I heard it but I couldn't agree more! My "mommy job" is an ass-kicker. My days are long, busy, and very tiring. They are never a stroll through the daisies, they are never a cake walk, they are never a 'sit on the couch and eat bon-bons while my nail polish drys' type of day. For the proof that's in the pudding - just read on. (I swear that all events and happenings depicted in the following account are true, accurate and not at all inflated to make myself look like super mom. I swear.)

My Day -May 7, 2008

7:00 a.m. - Rise and shine
7:15-7:30 - Nurse The Destroyer, change his diaper and get him dressed for the day
7:35 - Wake up Captain Crazy, cattle prod him into bathroom to get dressed
7:40 - Start breakfast (scrambled eggs, fruit, yogurt and cereal) Did I mention my boys eat like mini-truckers?
7:45 - Captain Crazy comes into the kitchen and announces that he's starving and needs his "brekwist" RIGHT NOW!
7:50 - "Brekwist" is served
8:15 - "Brekwist" is over, clean up boys/kitchen
8:30 - Get myself dressed and ready for day while trying to prevent The Destroyer from stuffing t-shirt into toilet
9:00- 10:30 - Playtime with boys in living room.
10:30 - Load boys into double jogger for a quick walk around neighborhood
11:00 - Back home to meet a friend and her son for a play date at our house.
11:30 - Neighbor drops her 2-yr-old son, Calvin, off for the day. I agreed to watch him until 5:00 p.m.(Yes, I was smoking crack at the time)
12:00 - Start making lunch for 1, 2, 3 and 4 yr-old boys.
12:15-12:45 - Enjoy relative silence while boys cram their little cake holes full of PB&J, fruit, and milk.
12:45-1:00 - Lunch clean-up. Potty for big boys
1:00 - Diaper changes for little ones - get them ready for their naps. Please God in heaven, let them take naps! Play date leaves.
1:30 - Put The Destroyer down for nap.
1:35 - Read nap-time story to Calvin, put him down for nap.
1:45 - Go back into The Destroyer's room and stop him from pounding on bedroom wall.
2:00 - Little ones are asleep. Hallelujah!
2:10 - Put DVD on for Captain Crazy's quiet time
2:15 - Go into kitchen to eat MY lunch - a big, fat, hairy bowl of ice cream. So good, but oh so bad!
2:30 -3:00 - Load dishwasher, unload washing machine, unload dryer, load washing machine, load dryer, fold load of laundry
3:00 - 3:45 -Pry Captain Crazy off of couch and go out side. Water plants, pick up dog shit from backyard, play in sandbox with Captain Crazy
3:45 - The Destroyer awake. Change his diaper. Wake up Calvin for snack time.
4:00 - Snack time over. Play until Calvin goes home at 5:00.
5:00 - Hubbie home from work. Thank God!
5:00- 5:20 - fall into bed for quick power nap
5:20 - get up and start dinner while Hubbie plays with boys
6:00 - 6:45 Dinner
6:45 - Family playtime
7:00 - Bath time for boys
7:30 - Bedtime
7:45 - Take a walk - by myself. Yay! Decide to walk to grocery store for milk.
8:30 - Return home with 2 gallons of milk and arms that are 3 inches longer.
8:30 - 9:00 - Make Captain Crazy's lunch for pre-school, fold and put away another load of laundry.
9:15 - Take a shower and get ready for bed - finally
10:00 - Collapse into bed
11:30 - The Destroyer wakes up. Get up to check on him
11:40 - Back in bed
12:38 - The Destroyer is awake, again. Go in and check on him.
1:00 - Back in bed
4:20 - The Destroyer awake, again!!!! Roll over and turn off monitor and go back to sleep
6:00 - Captain Crazy climbs into bed to snuggle.
6:40 - Up for the day.

The Boy with the Golden Tongue

When my oldest son, Kellen, aka 'Captain Crazy' was born I must have kissed him a million times - all before he was even two days old. For the life of me I could not help myself! I just could not pry my lips off of his sweet little face. I also talked to him constantly, telling him that he was my sweet little angel baby and that I loved him with all of my heart and blah, blah, blaaahhh. When he started talking, it was clear to see that all of the affection, both physical and verbal, had sunk in deep. He now tells me all time that I'm his beautiful princess, that he loves me more than anything and that I'm the best mommy in the entire universe and - this one really gets me..... that I'm his hero. And he has to start and end every day with a snuggle session. Now, some of you are thinking, "awwwww" and some of you are thinking "pretty mama's boy", but I'm thinking, "dads, you better lock up your daughters because I've created a heart-melting monster!"

Out with the Old

So my husband walked into the living room last night as I was vegging out in front of American Idol and announced "we have TOO. MUCH. STUFF!" Really? You think so? That's something that I've known for like well, forever. I can barely walk through our garage without breaking my ankle. And let's not even talk about our closets for Christ's Sake - one is so crammed full that it looks like a solid wall of stuff behind the doors.

But as usual, I'm one step ahead of him in solving this situation. My summer's goal is the rid our beloved dwelling of all of our little dust-collecting gewgaws. For the past two months, I have been mentally tagging said gewgaws for my GRAND GARAGE SALE. And what a sale it's going to be. In fact, if I were attending this garage sale - I'd think I had hit the Mother Load. There's going to be baby/kid clothing, toys and gear up the wazoo, household/garage items, books galore, gardening tools, adult cloths - you name I'll probably be selling it. Since I'm much better at shopping at garage sales than holding them (that's how I acquired aforementioned gewgaws) I could use any tips/advice on how to hold a successful garage sale. Besides the obvious like not selling broken, dirty crap, should I have homemade cookies and freshly squeezed lemonade to sweeten the experience and put shoppers in the "buying mood"? Any tips/advice would be extremely appreciated. And if you're in the area, feel free to stop by - just not before 9 or the price doubles.

Off and Running

Please God -HELP. ME. My baby is now RUNNING. It was bad enough when he started walking at 10 months - not uncommon, I know. It's just that I was hoping for a little more time of plopping him down with a toy and having him stay pretty much in the vicinity of where I last plopped him. But no, he needed to WALK - to constantly explore every inch of the house, to follow his brother around and get into everything under the sun. Now it seems walking just isn't good enough anymore - it doesn't get him where he wants to go fast enough, so lets RUN instead. I do have to admit - it's actually pretty damn cute - his little legs pumping as fast and they can and his fat little arms punching back and forth and the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. I have to get it on tape because I can't take a picture of him anymore -he moves too damn fast now. Every picture I tried to take this weekend was just a blurred image barely caught within the frame. Oh, and did I mention how TIRING it is keeping up with him? My pedometer clocked in almost 8 thousand steps and that was just around the house. Crazy. But I know I can't complain too much - I might be wiped out at the end of the day but at least I have a healthy, energetic, happy little boy and that's worth all the steps in the world.

All better now

I think I can officially say that we are all FINALLY germ free. FINALLY. I realized that by my previous posts - all four or five of them - a person could easily get the impression that my family is a bunch of sickos. Except that we're not - I promise! We are not a bunch of sniffling, pale little weaklings who catch every sickness that floats through the air. My kids are strong, active and bright - hell, my 1-year-old has never had an ear infection and my three year has had maybe three his entire life - which I think is pretty good. This last cold was my first cold in over a year for me which is also pretty good. The only person who probably gets sick in our house more than he should is HH. He's an OT in an assisted living center so he's around some pretty funky stuff on a regular basis. Ever heard of the NorWalk Virus? Yeah - he's had that twice - both times right around Easter. Nothing fun about having to pull the car over so he can crap and puke on the side of the interstate! And he has a bad back and some how manages to throw it out a couple of times a year. He chalks all of his health related misfortune up to the fact that he's getting older, but I know and you know it's really because men are just inferior to women. HA!

So anyway, the real reason I wanted to post is because I have a gripe that needs to be griped about. Or maybe it's a dilemma - I don't know. Basically - it boils down to this - we have no family around. Some of you are probably saying "so what?" and if you are it's because you probably DO have family around. If you don't, you understand exactly what I mean when I say "we have no family around" Not only do we not have family around - we don't even have any family nearby. My family is in Colorado and my HH's family is in Hawaii. How's that for making it easy to visit the grandparents on the weekend? My HH and I often debate about moving to Hawaii to be near family - we both want the boys to grow up with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in their lives -plus HH wants to teach them how to surf. But $8 for a gallon of milk? $450,000.00 for a two bedroom CONDO? 50 year mortgages? I just can't seem to wrap my mind around that, yet I can't shake the feeling that we're cheating our kids out of precious family memories by living so far away from family - not to mention how nice it would be to have the extra help. My HH and I haven't had a date night in....like.... EVER! So, the mental/emotional debate rages on - move to be with family or remain where we are and enjoy a comfortable yet extended family-free lifestyle. If anyone out there has ever made the choice to move to be near family - why did you do it and was it worth it? I would love to hear from you.

P.S. I guess I should add that I do have a sister who lives nearby. I figured I needed to throw that in since you're sure to hear more about her as time goes on. But anyway, even though she's my sister, in my opinion, she doesn't count as family because she acts more like a family friend than an aunt. She refuses to babysit the boys as she "doesn't do diapers" and she's "afraid that something will happen". My oldest is three and a half and quite good at feeding himself, going to the bathroom AND wiping his own butt. Still she won't even watch him. When she does come over, it's while we're there too and about a hour is all she can handle.

Sick, Sick and more Sick

It's been a while since I posted but I do have a good excuse. It seems like the cold bugs just love my family SO MUCH that they just won't leave. My little one was the latest to fall prey to another cold. It was only a matter of time before I caught it because how could I not? He's been hacking in my face and slathering me with his boogers for days now. But I am happy to report that we are starting to emerge from the forest and we can see a bit of light. I didn't use the humidifier in his room last night and he made it through without any coughing jags. I'm still hacking up nice chunks of goo - but they're a lot smaller and my chest no longer sounds like someone is banging a pipe around in a steel cage when I cough. Yeah!

This little break has given me an opportunity to think about all the things I would like to post about but funny how I can't remember a single one to them right now. Guess the mucus isn't quite out of my brain yet. When it is I'll be back with something to yap about. Until then wash your hands often and stay healthy!