Our Little Cuckoo's Nest

Hi, I'm alive!

2015-03-21T21:25:00.000-04:00

If you read my last post back in October, you might think that I died on the operating table. Great news, I didn't! Only my will to function as a normal, contributing member of society. And honestly, you might not hear from me again for another 5 months after this.

Michael Ronan McCullough (Mac) was born on October 21, 2014 at 8:30am-ish (I imagine a lot of the details of this poor kid's life will be forgotten from here on out).

Everything went exactly as planned, which was really nice for a change. If I had to guess, I'd say that not having gone through 40 hours of pointless labor before the c-section definitely helped my physical & emotional state.

I even took the liberty of pushing the nurse's button whenever I felt like it this time. If I needed help getting the baby out of the bassinet, I pushed it. If I wanted little Mac to take a trip to the nursery so I could get a whopping 2 hour stretch of sleep, I pushed it. If I needed a 14th apple juice since I couldn't eat real food for 48 hours, I pushed it. And when my other 2 boys started wearing out their welcome, I pushed it... turns out, they don't respond to this type of request.

But eventually, all good things must come to an end, and I had to leave the wonderful Shady Grove Maternity Resort & Spa. So, when I got home, shizzle hit the fizzle.

My theory about when your children outnumber your limbs... spot on. What used to take me a ridiculous hour and a half to get out of the house with just Niall and B, now takes me almost 2 1/2 hours. And that is assuming I skip breakfast... which I do.

I've decided it's easier this way, because if I attempt to scarf something down in the 5 minutes before we are running out the door, the older ones like to pretend that they haven't actually eaten breakfast and beg for bites of mine until I eventually give up... OR Mac decides, right at the moment the spoon hits my lips, that he needs to be held at all times and, under no circumstances, may I sit down while holding him. You know... while we're at it, mom, you better do some serious bouncing while you're holding me. It's kind of like a sick joke but right when you are about to start crying, you are reminded of how joyful and fleeting this time is.

Yes, I'll admit, I am starting to realize through all of the frustration of babies screaming, toddlers throwing tantrums and big boys not listening... the whole childhood thing is just so quick. And maybe, just maybe, I think I'm really going to miss all of this one day very soon.

Now that I have a kid who no longer asks for a bedtime song before I leave the room, I have become better at snuggling one seriously fussy baby and doing it with a genuine smile on my face, knowing that he will only be a baby for so long.

It has taken some time to adjust to 3, but all things considered, we are finally getting into a nice groove. I'd give this time period a solid 72% joyful, which, if I can remember how to do math (no promises), is more joy than misery. For anyone thinking about a having a third, remember: JOY > MISERY. Yay!

However;

a) don't quote me on that

and

b) you have to come up with a solid survival plan

Let's call this segment "Things I no longer care about" (AKA "My Survival Plan")

Pajamas that don't match. Why did I ever care about this? Seriously. In fact, let's make that "all things pajamas." Babies do not need to be changed out of their perfectly comfortable little outfits to be put into a "sleeper outfit." ALL baby clothes are sleeper outfits. And if my boys want to wear pajamas instead of real clothes during the day, or real clothes to bed instead of pajamas... have at it, my friend. I no longer care. I'm certainly not going to engage in an hour long battle about why you have to wear "hard pants."

Potty Training. Oh potty training.... I hate you so much. It's becoming apparent that my plague, as a mother, is poop. Kids in this house either poop in their pants or don't poop for a week, which I would consider to be a pretty serious medical condition. Both are very annoying to deal with. Kids in this house also conspire to all poop at the same time right when I'm in the middle of shuffling 3 pots on the stove. The point is, I will be the one mom who defies the ol' saying "Hey, at least you know he'll be potty trained by kindergarten, right?" No... no, I don't, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.

The people at the local bakery now know me by name. Since I have to skip breakfast now, I have found myself wandering into JennyCakes on a semi-daily basis to grab a muffin to hold me over til lunch. I end up walking out with a BOX, not a bag, of assorted cookies, bars, and cupcakes. Then, I tell myself that these will be treats for the entire family over the course of that week. When I get home, I proceed to eat everything in that box and then destroy the evidence, like it never even happened. But the good news? I don't care.

I unkowingly joined a seniors' zumba class... and I'm still in it. FYI, if an exercise class has the word "Gold" in it, that doesn't mean it's really awesome; that means it is full of old people. Sadly, it is coincidentally right at the level of fitness exertion I can handle right now. Plus, I made a commitment to my zumba peeps and they are my new best friends.

Messes of epic proportions. Pictures on my wall have been smashed in battles against bad guys; crayons have been smushed into the beige carpet (note: if you have kids, don't get beige carpet), and toys have been put away in the WRONG BINS. I never thought I would see the day! And shockingly... I don't care. It feels kind of good, this not caring thing.

But then there are the things I do care about....

These guys loving on their new baby brother, who became initiated into this clan from the day he came home; no questions asked and no hesitations, whatsoever.

Sometimes, maybe a little too much love.

We like to torture this little cutie with accessories, and I have to say he is a pretty good sport about it.

I remember when Brendan was born, it not only took a little adjusting for Niall, but there was also a lot of hesitation, on my part, letting them be together. I was so worried that Niall would hurt the baby (not on purpose); just because he wouldn't understand how to act with a baby. This time around, Mac starts crying and I yell to the boys "Can you jump in the crib with him?" Seriously, when they do, he immediately stops crying and it's all smiles. He has also recently taken an interest in archery and rocket launchers from lessons with the big bros.

In the 5 months since this little nugget has graced this earth, I feel like I blinked and he is suddenly not a newborn anymore. I blinked and my other boys are now playing together like real kids, not needing me to facilitate. I blinked and my oldest is going to start REAL school this fall. So the main thing I've learned in all this craziness is to say "yes" more to the things that really matter and "no" to the things that I think matter, but really don't.

Yes to playing superheroes when I really need to fold the laundry.
Yes to extra hugs and stories to prolong the dreaded bedtime.
Yes to a dance party while I'm trying to make dinner.
Yes to really, truly listening to a ridiculously long story that makes absolutely no sense instead of tuning it out and thinking about my never-ending to-do lists.
And Yes to cuddling & kissing a sweet little baby in the middle of the night when all I want to do is sleep.

It takes time and patience, the whole surrendering thing-- but I'm getting there, and no matter how much I gripe and groan, I truly love being a mom to these 3 guys.

The Big Day

2014-10-19T16:02:00.001-04:00

2 more days. We will meet this little guy in less than 48 hours. And yet even after saying that over and over again, it still doesn't feel real.

It's amazing how completely different my temperament and outlook has been during this pregnancy versus the last ones. With Niall, it was pure excitement; everything was so new, thrilling and untainted (my thoughts of what both birth and raising a child would be like). Then, with Brendan, I was a girl on a mission: to have that VBAC. I was practically natural birth certified and nothing was going to stand in my way of avoiding another c-section (except for that 24 hour trial of labor which resulted in... shocker: no progress). Now, with baby #3, I am fully aware that this little guy is coming at 7:30 am Tuesday, October 21... and I am a ball of nerves.

You would think that I would be relieved I can arrange a babysitter, pack my bag at a leisurely pace, enjoy a delicious meal of my choosing Monday night, and (most importantly) the whole thing will be over in 20 minutes-- unlike the other two labors, which ranged between 1-2 full days of mind-blowing yet uneventful contractions. Unfortunately, 'relieved' is not quite what you could say I'm feeling.

I wrote a blog post a while back, entitled "If I die tomorrow," which was a complete joke about what would happen if my husband had to take the reigns and wondering if my kids would survive. He is actually a great dad, but I think every mom knows what it's like to have that uncontrollable urge to to make sure things are done her way (AKA 'the right way'). So imagine if you weren't there to micro-manage this whole child-rearing operation... there is no doubt in my mind that the 2 year old would be dressed in the 4 year old's clothes, the sippy cups wouldn't have their little plastic spill stoppers, and the old "we'll brush teeth tomorrow night" routine would become an every night occurrence.

So, naturally, I've been considering every little complication that could possibly come up on Tuesday morning and I'm tempted to leave a small instruction manual (especially for those tricky baby snap outfits and how to efficiently clean a newborn poop-up-the-neck-blow-out)... and while I'm at it, I should also probably pack away all the 6-12 month stuff in the basement so the poor kid doesn't look like he is drowning in a tent every day.

But all things considered, I am sure that everything will be fine and that Tuesday will be all of the wonderful things that I am too afraid to let myself dream it will be-- 2 big brothers doting over the newest addition to their clan, holding him and kissing him and forcefully jamming his paci back in his mouth whenever it falls out, everyone admiring his tiny little fingers and toes, and truly enjoying the quiet time I will have to bond with him when the family goes home and it's just me and my baby. I am so excited, it feels surreal for some reason; even though I've been through it twice before.

It's really strange the way I felt after I had Brendan; there was this guilt that I had left Niall confused and alone; that I had taken something away from him-- that I had taken a bit of me from him. I was gone for so long (almost a week at the hospital), he wouldn't even talk to me or look at Brendan when we came home. Those first 2 days were awful. But this time, I am so happy that Niall and Brendan have each other and I know those feelings will never come up this time around. Those 2 don't even remember what it was like to be the only kid (Brendan obviously never was). I just know that they will feel nothing but joy and excitement and happiness toward their new brother; there is no doubt in my mind. That will be the biggest relief for me this time around; knowing that I can snuggle my new little guy without ever feeling a tinge of guilt or worry.

And even though I know that everything will be fine in that department, I have really been trying to soak up the last few weeks of having what I like to call 'the limbs-to-kids ratio' (2 hands, 2 kids). Once your kids outnumber your arms, I imagine you are in trouble when it comes to leaving the house. At least that's my scientific observation. We will most likely be hunkered down for a little while until I get this whole 3 kids thing figured out, so I knew that we needed to have a few good excursions before the big day. And that's just what we did.

I have to say, although I would have been thrilled to welcome a girl into this super hero, pee and football-infested house, I am so happy for this band of brothers. What Niall and Brendan have is something that I will never be able to fully understand or remotely be a part of. They are brothers. When they are in their room laughing and talking at night, I'll never know what it is about or why it is so funny. When one looks out for the other and says "that's my brother," I will feel a tingle of pride but never really know what their loyalty toward each other feels like. And that's ok; that's the way it should be. It makes me happy to think that they have something so special in addition to and completely separate from what I have with them.

And now there will be 3 of them. The McCullough clan, my boys, my everything. I can't wait.

Me Time

2014-09-30T14:23:00.003-04:00

I have a question for moms of toddlers/babies: What would you do if you had 24 hours completely to yourself? Sounds like a little slice of heaven, doesn't it? Well, I had that glorious opportunity this past weekend and completely squandered it.

I had a bridal shower to attend and my husband took the kids down to his family's bay house for the day/night/following day. Seriously, why have I not figured out that I should make up some kind of girls-only event that I am obligated to attend more often? Chalk it up to increasingly multiplied amount of brain cells lost with each pregnancy/ kid. I will probably let something crop up in a few weeks again-- gotta space it out a little so he doesn't get too suspicious ;)

Well, it appears that, without the never ending to-do list, I am completely lost and helpless. My life is now a series of completing the tasks listed on a bunch of crumpled up papers in my diaper bag (never did make that transition back to a normal purse; now the massive saddlebag is filled with toys and trash, but equally as heavy and full as when it was filled with actual baby essentials).

So, for once, there was no to-do list this weekend. I finally hit the major nesting phase and went a little crazy being on top of things in the last 2 weeks or so. I have been eagerly ticking the tasks off my list until I got to the point where both my closet and the baby's are fully prepared for 10 degree weather if it hits tomorrow.

Which left me a full 24 hours of peace and infinite possibilities... but I forgot just what it is that I like to do for fun when I am by myself. Could it really have been that long since I have had a little free time to participate in a hobby or two? Let's see... about 5 years, so yea. Kinda sad that I hadn't noticed I don't have hobbies anymore, though. That's when you realize you have been reassuring yourself with: "but I am a good person!" Sure, that counts as a hobby.

I was certainly not going to start a book since I knew I would get maybe 50 pages into it, only to finish about a year and a half from now. And I didn't want to waste it on TV or a nap. I wanted to do something exciting, something that would make this 24 hours worth living for! Something like doing a really awesome painting or knitting a complete hat & mittens set or going for a 10 mile run-- you know, things that I am not remotely capable of doing. So what do you think I did?

Spent a truly humiliating amount of time thinking about "van configuration." I can only hope that most of you are saying "Oh, yea! Van configuration! I have thought about that a lot in my spare time." But my better judgement tells me that most of you are thinking "I'm sorry, van what?" The sad part is that I really enjoyed pondering the different ways I could move the van seats around to make the most space for 3 kids, myself and my 98 pounds of junk that goes with me every time we need to go for a 10 minute car ride. I was also really proud of myself that I took into consideration keeping the baby in his own separate row so he wouldn't get his eyes poked out by a big brother who likes to point out that the white part is separate from the colored and black parts of the eye ball.

By that time, I was just so exhausted from all of that intellectual stimulation, I ended up taking that dreaded nap I had been avoiding all day. And you know what? It was wonderful-- and pretty much everything I could have wanted or expected out of a little quiet time to myself. Sometimes you just can't teach an old dog new tricks... and I'm pretty ok with that ;)

Plus, I had to get my beauty rest for when these little hooligans busted back through the door. Honestly, I really missed them, even if it was for just a day.

Cruel Mommy Myths

2014-09-19T13:49:00.001-04:00

I can still remember when Niall turned 13 months old-- it was like this slow morphing of a perfect angel into some kind of monster over the course of 30 days or so. I could see that sweet little baby slipping out of my hands and didn't understand what was happening. Well, I'll tell you what was happening-- ~~Christmas~~ "the terrible twos" came early at my house, and I had no forewarning whatsoever.

It lasted until he was almost 2, but by his second birthday, everything was pretty much back to normal. Those 9 months were not fun. But I can tell you what's even more not fun: when you amplify those tantrums by about 75% and stretch out the time frame another year or so. That would be my Brendan.

For me, babies are easy. They eat, sleep, poop, smile and snuggle-- I relish every minute of those months 3-12 (as soon as they can mostly sleep through the night). Ahh, these were the days...

And this was probably my last vivid memory before it all started to take a turn for the worse:

It's once they start walking and getting that first taste of independence that I think the whole parenting thing gets REALLY HARD. Nobody tells you that the terrible twos might not actually start around age 2 when you are expecting it; at least in my house, they start the month after the baby turns 1 and don't end until... well, it's been a year and a half so far with Brendan and the attitude now is pretty much the same as it was then...

Let's see... in this one, he was mad that I was trying to take a picture

In this one, I think he was upset that I gave him the wrong water cup

Pretty sure he was angry at the wind

That cow was very offensive

It's a cruel joke, the whole phases thing. Everyone has an end date to throw at you for all things baby/kid related. Oh, breastfeeding will only hurt for [1 week...2 weeks... 1 month] until you realize after 2 months of agony that you might just be one of those people that it never gets better for. Same thing with terrible twos, kids pooping their pants for a year, and pretty much anything else you can think of.

The terrible twos are not just some thing that every kid does the same way. It has taken me 4 years to figure out that it's 100% the kid's personality. Brendan is a diva and there is no changing that. For Niall, it was just a phase of growing into his independence and dealing with those limitations and frustrations; it had a concrete start and finish. For Brendan, there isn't an interaction in the world that isn't worth crying, whining, exploding, or causing some kind of scene over... except when we are around the people who I like to do my venting to; he loves to act like a perfect angel in front of them to make me look crazy :)

Some of my favorite reasons that Brendan has completely freaked out on me lately:

-we are going the wrong way (driving in the car)
-he doesn't like the song I've selected on the radio
-he had to put shoes on to go outside
-he doesn't want his water (putting a sippy cup in the cup holder is unacceptable unless he asks for it)
-he tells me the same story 8 times in a row and each time, my reaction of "Oh really? Cool!" isn't enthusiastic enough
-I tried to help him with getting his clothes on... 10 minutes later, he still can't get his clothes on and is now mad that I'm not helping
-He asked for waffles for breakfast... I made them... but he actually wanted cereal (I still have a lot of work to do on my telepathy skills)

So what really scares me is how many people have told me that the 3rd kid is just SO EASY. So go-with-the-flow, so happy to just be included and tag along, so everything-you-dream-about-a-kid-being-before-you-actually-have-kids. Why does this scare me? Because I BELIEVE THEM! It just occurred to me the other day that I could be banking on something that is just another terrible myth. I have been envisioning this barely noticeable kid just boppin around with us, smiling and cooing... and I suddenly realized that this might not be the way it is. I think it's time to start mentally and emotionally preparing myself for a different version of reality.

HOWEVER...

Every time I write something like this, something where I have less than pleasant things to say about parenthood, I come across a heart-wrenching article that makes me want to slap myself and pretend I never had any of those feelings. But the truth is, no matter how great someone else's loss or how lucky I realize that I am, I did/do still have these feelings sometimes, and pretending or hiding that doesn't make any of it go away...

What I will say is that for every 1 negative experience I have with my kids, I have at least 10 great ones that make it all worth it. For every time I want to scream at the top of my lungs or lock a kid in their room for wayyy longer than the recommended 2-4 minutes-- all it takes is one "I love you mom!", 1 hug, 1 smile, 1 giggle, 1 funny anecdote; it all makes me realize how incredibly blessed I am every single day. Life is so much more rich and fulfilling and *interesting*, to say the least, with these guys in it.

And the next time my head is about to explode, I will try... really hard... to remember that ;)

Note(s) to self

2014-09-09T16:16:00.000-04:00

I've learned a lot in the last month-- about both parenting and life in general. Most of it, I probably already knew, but didn't want to/ choose to acknowledge it until recently. The thing is, when you have to tend to a couple of small children while carrying around a bowling ball in your abdomen, you really have to adjust your standards/ expectations/ perception of reality... whether you want to or not.

So I'm forcing myself to take a little mental note; things that I really need to accept as truths-- at least for the next year or so (but more likely for the next 10-20 years... and then probably the rest of my life, because at that point, I'll just be old and exhausted).

1) I am always going to be tired and never have enough time in the day.

Why I keep setting my alarm for 5:45 am every day expecting to pop up and cheerfully get my to-do list done while everyone else is still sleeping, I will never know. Morning after morning, I consistently hit the snooze button 12 times or so, until my kids come in and wake me up themselves. So tonight, maybe, could I just be honest with myself for once and not set the alarm and feel ok about the fact that my bulging leg veins might just need a little bit more rest?

2) Everything is a phase-- both good and bad.

You know when your kid is hitting you in the face because you had the audacity to make him get in his car seat and your friend tries to make you feel better by reminding you that it's just a phase? Well, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you; that goes for the good parts, too, my friend. When your kids are finally both in a good stretch where they are sleeping through the night and not giving you a hard time going to bed-- it's only a matter of time before someone starts having nightmares or they realize that they can throw books at each other once you leave the room or slurp all the water out of their sippy cups to use as super soakers on each other. And they will wait until you have, or are about to have, a brand spankin new baby before they enter this new phase... just to keep things interesting.

On another note, Brendan entered the "terrible twos" phase at exactly age 13 months and still hasn't come out of it (over a year and a half later). Not a fan of "phases."

3) Pre-assembled furniture is worth its weight in gold.

With new babies and new bedroom arrangements comes a torturous amount of work for the hubby-- assembling new furniture, hanging curtain rods, swapping out cribs for toddler beds and toddler beds for twins... I don't know about anyone else, but when Matt sees one of those massive cardboard box shipments leaned up against our house, he kind of looks like his head might explode. After 6 years of marriage, I've finally learned that it is worth a truck ride to go pick up a piece of furniture that doesn't require 4 hours of your time and 12 pages of instructions to put together.

4) Painting is for school and this is why God didn't give me girls.

We have a special crafts box that sits on the very top shelf of our playroom-- so high that I need a step stool to get to it. We pull it out maybe once a year. Yesterday, I was gently reminded of why it sits on that top shelf, untouched for so long. Niall asked me if they could paint outside after Brendan woke up from his nap, and it actually, for one second, sounded like a pretty good idea to me. Until they started painting the deck and the chairs and the bricks that are part of MY HOUSE and everything except the 47 feet of paper that I put in front of them. I just hope my neighbors didn't see/ hear me when I threw a stage 5 temper tantrum and started chucking their paints into the garbage can while screaming "NEVER AGAIN!!! YOU CAN PAINT AT SCHOOL AND THAT'S IT... FOREVER!!!"

5) A work out is a work out. Tomato / Tomaato.

I truly believe that pushing a stroller with a 2 1/2 yr old and 4 1/2 year old in it, while carrying a human being in your stomach has to count as the full hour strenuous work outs I used to participate in-- even if that walk is only 15 minutes and I am drinking a pumpkin spice latte while doing it. Well maybe I don't believe that, but I am just going to keep telling myself that.

6) There is no shame in candy bribing.

I try to use real consequences and reasonable privileges whenever possible... but there are times when you could hand a kid 1 hershey kiss to get some cooperation and it would save you 30 minutes of headaches and crying (for both you and the kid). In those times, I say give the kid a hershey kiss and call it a day. And then pat yourself on the back for taking the opportunity to make your life just a little bit easier.

7) If you are pregnant and have other small children, you really HAVE to put your feet up.

I know everyone hates when people say this to them-- How are you supposed to put your feet up when you have to cook, clean and raise a bunch of kids at the same time? I have no idea, but I do know that by 7pm, my legs feel like they are going to fall off and if I have to chase 1 more person to get them in the bath tub, I am going to turn into redneck beat-down mom who threatens to give her kiddos a good whoopin at the count of 3. This is why I have decided (as of 10 minutes ago) to retreat to the couch for a good 15 minute feet-up break after dinner... which will probably end up being 2 minutes of peace and 13 minutes of being jumped on and hit in the face with pillows. But hey, it's worth a shot.

8) I will never stop being freaked out by a baby fist or foot jutting out of my stomach.

You would think by the third time around, I would barely notice the little guy swimming around in there... but I still wince and squirm like someone catching a glimpse of a centipede sitting on their pillow every time this baby suddenly rams his appendages out of my belly. And for some reason, I keep thinking that if I gently pat my stomach and tell him to calm down a little, that he will be willing and/or capable of listening. Really, what would make me think that this kid would follow my instructions anyway-- don't I have 2 other kids who completely debunk that theory?

9) Worrying doesn't solve anything.

Everyone who knows me knows that I am completely freaked out about having a third c-section. My first 2 births didn't go so well, despite my best efforts to have them naturally. So this time I am scheduled to have a c-section, which is completely new and scary to me. Naturally, I've been researching all of the risks and things that can go wrong with the third c-section because that's the best thing you can do for yourself when you have to have a procedure that is completely out of your control-- scare yourself to death. But today, I woke up for the first time feeling really excited that meeting this baby is really just around the corner. I want to focus on how nice it will be to know that I will only have to wait 15 minutes until I can see and hold this baby, as opposed to 40 hours of wasted labor the first time (and 24 hours the second time). From now on, I am going to really try to commit to only thinking happy thoughts about this new little guy who we will get to meet so soon!

10) For all of the times I've lost my patience and wanted to pull my hair out recently, being lucky enough to hang with these little hooligans all day is totally worth it.

Why I DO teach my son to share

2014-08-04T15:26:00.001-04:00

There is an article that has been going around the interwebs over the last couple weeks that has been quite the buzz among the mommy world. The woman grabs your attention with the headline "Why I don't make my son share" and then hooks you with a few seemingly valid points about preparing your kids for the disappointment and reality of life. What really concerns me is how many parents are actually jumping on board with this philosophy after reading her blog post.

Like I said, she makes some good arguments; namely, that you can't just have everything you want in life simply because you showed up (or simply because you want it). However, doesn't it seem like teaching your kids that they don't have to do anything if they don't want to is a far more dangerous lesson?

When you give your kid a time limit with a certain toy, because you see that other children are waiting for it, both kids are learning that important lesson of "disappointment in life"-- the kid who is playing with the toy knows that there is an end to his fun in the very near future, and the kid who wants the toy is learning that he is going to have to wait a few minutes until the other person's turn is up, even though he wants it right now. More importantly, both kids are learning what it means to be a good friend and a good person. Isn't that the most crucial thing that we can teach young children?

Kids are inherently selfish. It's not their fault, or anyone's; it's just the way they see the world for a little while. It's your job, as a parent, to teach them that they are NOT the most important person in the world; that it is important to take other people's feelings into consideration and that being kind to others is what makes us the special human beings that we are. Otherwise, they will quickly learn that in real life, if you don't play fair, you are either going to get your butt kicked or not have any friends.

I also have trouble grasping this woman's version of "reality." In my reality, you can't reserve the monkey bars or a swing at a park, the way you can in her reality. In my reality, if I told another mom: "I'm sorry, these monkey bars are being saved for my son who just jumped off for a second; he is using the bathroom right now and he wants to swing on them when he gets back", I'm guessing she would either burst out laughing or fight the urge to punch me in the face.

In the blogger's reality, this no-sharing philosophy is preparing kids for the fact that they aren't going to get a promotion just because they go to work on time every day... great, but that reality is about 18 years down the road for her son. How about preparing him for a reality that he might face in the next six months? Like when he goes on a carousel ride and has decided that he isn't ready to get off once it's over. Her philosophy won't work out so well when it is required that everyone exit the ride and let the people waiting in line have a turn. I imagine that her son will also have a hard time understanding why he is allowed to stay on in certain places but not in others.

There were two specific examples she gave, to defend her point, that really bothered me. She first tells the story of her friend's toddler son bringing a toy car to the park and another mom insisting that the little boy share it with her son. Ok, well I think we can all agree that the other mom, in that instance, was completely out of line. That is certainly the exception and not the norm of how most moms would act, so I hope that I am not thrown into that same category of crazy simply because I make my son share.

The other example was a time that her son was at a public kids gym and wanted to play on a particular ride-on toy for the entire hour and a half of open play. She watched another mom approach the boy after he had been on it for a while and ask if her son could have a turn; the boy ignored her and continued to ignore her every subsequent time she asked (blogger mom never stepped in). The real problem here, aside from the fact that her son thinks it is perfectly ok to highjack a toy in a public place for over an hour, is that this woman seems to relish in the fact that her son is completely ignoring an adult who is asking him to do something.

Teaching your kids respect for authority is something that I would consider very important for real life in both the educational and working worlds that lie ahead. Ignoring your teachers/ bosses when you don't want to do what they've asked is certainly not going to get you very far in life. Of course, it is important to teach children to stand up for themselves when an adult is asking them to do something inappropriate, but that was clearly not the case here.

I just have to believe that in the long run, which is what this woman seems to be concerned about, the person who learned to share, think of others, and exhibit kindness often as a child is going to get so much more out of life than the child who was taught that other people don't matter and that he doesn't ever have to compromise his own happiness.

Please teach your children to share.

Warming up to summer

2014-07-30T20:14:00.000-04:00

Despite being uncomfortably pregnant, this summer has actually been the best I can remember in the last several years. Unlike almost everyone I know, I'm not really a huge summer person; a) because I don't enjoy feeling like I'm living in an oven every day for 3 months, b) because Irish girls like me might actually become cooked much like something you would put in the oven, and c) take the 'Irish' skin and add the curly hair in 90% humidity and... well, it's just not pretty.

There was a time when I dreamed that maybe-- just maybe-- by the last day of the summer, I would have some mild version of that beautiful tan glow that all of my friends seemed to have by some time around June 15... but then I realized that I could only lay on a towel in direct sunlight for about 15 minutes before I would plunge full speed into the ocean/pool for relief. That's when I threw in the towel and started lathering on the SPF 50, sitting under umbrellas, and calling myself "fair-skinned" instead of "pale" (like it might become some kind of sought-after fashion trend).

So I have to say: THANK YOU GOD for keeping the 100 + degree heat index days to a bare minimum this year. I vividly remember locking myself in my house almost every day last summer, promptly by noon and not coming back out until after 8pm (if at all). This morning, I went for a walk at 9am in yoga pants and a light long sleeved shirt. It was glorious, and I hear that the rest of this week will be just like today. I seriously can't stop smiling. I'm actually writing this blog post on my back porch sipping on a glass of homemade lemonade (and by homemade, I mean one of those all-natural ones that doesn't have a lot of sugar in it, so it feels kind of like I made it myself... maybe).

I would also like to give God a shout-out for the relatively low incident rate of bodily harm/ assaults by mosquitos. If you could possibly take care of the gnats while you're at it, I would love you even more, but I'm not going to get greedy.

Finally, the most crucial contributor to my summer of happiness: let's talk about this age... Oh, this age. It has been like the light at the end of the tunnel. As much as Brendan drives me crazy with his struggle for independence these days, this summer with Niall and Brendan has been SO MUCH FUN.

I hardly know what to do with myself now that I can plop down in a chair and just watch them play. Last summer, Brendan was 1 1/2, so he was walking but in a super NOT FUN kind of way. The kind of walking where the kid can only get himself into trouble and the mom just wants to strap the kid into a stroller while the older one plays, but the kid is too smart for those kinds of tricks at that stage, and so you end up crawling through playground tunnels that are wayyy too small for you, just to make sure your little guy doesn't skydive off the platform on the other side.

I was helicopter-ing him everywhere he went and never had a second to relax or even remotely pay attention when other moms would try to talk to me. In fact, every time we got in the car to go to a pool or park or other outdoor excursion where the kids couldn't be contained in one area, I did a quick mental assessment of how miserable the excursion we were about to attend would be (for me) and then force myself to snap out of it and go anyway.

This summer has been like heaven compared to that. Brendan and Niall not only play together, but I can somewhat trust that Brendan is going to be ok as long as I keep an eye on him (from a comfortable sitting distance). It also helps that nothing makes a better summer combo than boys and dads...

Ice cream, crabs, water slides and turtle discoveries come in at a close second ;)

Ok, maybe I'm changing my mind about summer... I guess it is kind of awesome :)

Rules Are Rules

2014-07-21T22:07:00.000-04:00

I am a big time rule-follower; always have been, always will be. I am the girl who tries to sign in under a friend's name at the pool and my face turns so bright red that I can't meet eyes with the people at the front desk. These days, I will take a bite of an Italian sub, chew it up just to enjoy that one second of flavor, and then spit it out because I am told that you are not allowed to eat lunchmeat when pregnant. I am also far more intimidated by my kid's pre-school teacher than I'm sure any of those 4-year-olds are. The point is: I just don't feel comfortable messing with the rule book, regardless of who makes those rules.

So I would really appreciate it if, each time I get pregnant with another kid, the mysterious "THEY" could stop adding 15 new regulations and guidelines to make my life so thoroughly miserable for 9 solid months.

What's this about how I'm not allowed to sleep on my right side this go-around?? It was hard enough for me to adjust to not sleeping on my back with the first two; now I'm not even allowed to roll over? I'm not sure if it's just the fact that I have been told I can't, or if I am really this tortured by the way I wake up 4 times a night with the urge to flop onto my other side and suddenly remember that I am undoubtedly going to rupture some crucial artery by doing that.

My better judgement keeps telling me that the thousands of generations of women in the past did just fine without the right side artery crushing sleep rule, but I am not one to test those waters-- after all, rules are rules.

And now that I'm at a point in my pregnancy where I can't comfortably bend over or squat for more than 5 seconds, they have conveniently decided to come out with a study on the dangers of kids' spray-on sunscreen. Of course they did! Why would I be able to apply sunscreen in an easy, no-fuss- kind-of-way that kept my varicose veins from bursting out of my legs? That would be absurd.

The drop side crib I used just 2 years ago? It's in the trash. Not allowed.

Bug spray? Don't you preggo ladies dare. You can sit inside or be eaten by the West Nile spreading monsters of the back porch.

Oh, and apparently, even after what I thought was some pretty thorough research on which fish I needed to stay away from (swordfish, shark, tuna only allowed in moderation), I just found out that I shouldn't have eaten those crabs over the weekend or the shrimp I've been serving for dinner just about every other week for the last six months.

And I certainly hope you don't get a sore throat. Because after I popped about 6 of those Ricola herbal throat drops, I found out that they will most certainly cause me to miscarry. Thankfully, that was about 4 months ago, so I must have been one of the lucky ones.

Is there a certain point where I am allowed to say "no" to all of the so-called expert advice? Where I get to say "If I can't have a beer at a BBQ, I'm going to savor every last sip of an ice-cold coke and not feel guilty about it."

Well, if there is, who am I kidding? I'm too much of a worry wart to torture myself wondering what terrible fate awaits every time I defy the pregnancy commandments. So I will stick it out and play it safe for these last 3 months-- but someone had better bring me a knock-your-socks-off cold cut and a thoroughly chilled Blue Moon right up to my hospital bed on this little guy's birthday ;)

No, I'm not a soccer mom... (but my kids do play soccer)

2014-07-07T15:50:00.002-04:00

If you had asked me 10 years ago, I never would have dreamed that this day would come. In fact, I would have bet my life that it wouldn't. But the first kid came along, and along with that tiny little 7 pound bundle of love came strollers and backpack carriers and giant car seats and diaper bags the size of a week's worth of luggage... then, the second kid multiplied that cargo... and now a third will triple it. You probably know where I'm going with this. Yep, last weekend, we decided it was time:

Needless to say, there are a lot of emotional hurdles to conquer on the day you trade in your sporty mid-size SUV for the keys to a minivan.

First of all, you need to accept that any shred of coolness you had left in you is now gone forever. I imagine that I lost that last shred a few years back, but at least I didn't have to announce it to the whole world.
Second, you have to tell yourself that you are different from the other soccer moms in this world, because you are still a regular person-- you just needed a little bit more space (like the other moms didn't get a van for that exact same reason) .
Third, you have to mentally prepare your talking points of the many cool new technological features that minivans come with these days for when your friends without kids start making fun of you.

Obviously, I am going to do that right here and now... because honestly, this van is SO AWESOME!!! (I'm actually not joking... at all)

We walked into the Chevy dealership on 4th of July with full intentions of getting a Traverse (it's like the car I had but with a third back row). But when we found out that the particular model we wanted had sold the day before, we both agreed that we should at least look at the Honda Odyssey at the dealership next door. And when we did, it was no competition. I don't care what anyone says-- the Odyssey is the nicest car I have ever been inside of (Note: I have never been inside of a really nice/ expensive car before. Other note: Yes, we did feel really guilty for being so un-American by purchasing a Japanese car on our great nation's birthday.)

Aside from the fact that there are approximately 14 cup holders, a "cool box" to keep drinks cold, and a "conversation mirror" (AKA "make sure your kids aren't killing each other" mirror)... aside from all the hands free everything, blind spot cameras for turning, and aside from the fact that the arm rests adjust to different levels for short people (my personal favorite)... let's be real here: the back of this van could host a better shindig than my current living room. Even when we put the third back seat in, this thing is like a party bus!

So, yes, maybe I've hit 30 and lost every shred of my dignity with it-- but I'm completely willing to take that fall in exchange for the sanity that this new set of wheels has brought me. It's truly the little things that make me happy these days, and this could truly be my biggest thrill of 2014 (oh right, aside from the baby that is on his way). Maybe I'm a little more excited than a normal person should be about riding through town in a glorified school bus; but hey, come talk to me when you are shoving grocery bags on your kids' laps because your double stroller takes up the entire trunk of your cool, sporty looking mini SUV. It will be me who gets the last laugh then ;)

Long live the minivan (and the soccer mom)!

My Little Soldier

2014-06-27T16:28:00.000-04:00

I think, by now, that everyone who knows me is aware of how much I like to ~~gripe~~ joke about what a royal pain my sweet little B-bop can be on a daily basis. He is truly... something else. A real soldier marching to the beat of his own drum. Always has, probably always will.

He likes to do everything on his own; except when he can't... and in that case, he likes to blame it on you for honoring his wishes and letting him try it out himself. He is also a big time enforcer of what I like to call "reciprocal reinforcement", which typically involves me doling out a consequence for bad behavior and then Brendan, in turn, telling me that I am facing the same consequence. He also enjoys testing out how fast he can escape from me in a SuperTarget, parking lot, or any public place really (no need to be choosy when there are so many options). Let's just say I am getting my fair share of exercise and torture while trying to keep my varicose veins from exploding out of my poor overworked legs.

But I was thinking about it the other day, when I was telling someone how his new favorite thing is to wake up at 5:30, tiptoe into my room and jam his fingers in my mouth while I am sleeping (it's kind of like when your phone alarm is set to a really obnoxious ring tone, but way more offensive)... Anyway, she has 5 kids who are all in middle school and up, and she said "Ohh, I miss when my kids used to crawl into my bed and poke me in the face and do stuff like that." At the time, I thought she must be having one of those repressed memories like how you forget the pain of childbirth, but now I am starting to realize that if this little guy ever mellows out, (as relieved as I will probably be), I am actually going to miss the 'crazy, out-of-control, little devil monster' B-bop.

Despite his mischievous tendencies that often drive me up the wall, he is without a doubt, the cutest little stinker I have ever seen. No offense to Niall; he is adorable, as well, but in a more handsome way. Brendan is straight up CUTE. As in, I want to introduce him to my wooden spoon one second and then hug him and kiss him until he can't stand it anymore the next. And when he is sick, forget it. I am a puddle of mush. The poor little guy is trying to kick a virus right now, and all he wants to do is snuggle... which is FINE. BY. ME. I am loving every single second of it and I think he may have been kissed on his feverish little cheeks and forehead 2,000 times since yesterday.

So throughout all of this reminiscing about all of the times I've thrown poor B under the bus and had less than kind things to say about him, I realized that I better set the record straight... No matter how much I complain about Brendan, he is the peanut butter to my jelly, the cheese to my macaroni, the gravy to my mashed potatoes. I love him so much my heart could explode. He is such a blessing to our family and makes us laugh every single day, without fail. If anything ever happened to him, I wouldn't be able to go on-- and I do worry about that at times, given his inclination to put himself in extremely dangerous situations just about every day, but I also worry about the way life can be so unpredictable.

So on that note, I am always happy to shed light on health topics that could help another family, especially when it is something that has had an impact on my own. I don't think I know a single person who hasn't been affected, in some way, by cancer. Sometimes, people are lucky and catch it early; other times, people don't even notice symptoms until it is much too late. So when a disease can really easily be prevented, just by sharing a little knowledge on the topic, I am thrilled to pitch in.

A woman named Heather reached out to me to ask for some help with a campaign she got involved with after she was given just over a year to live, shortly after giving birth to her first daughter. After a life saving surgery that included removal of her left lung, she is now doing just fine-- 8 years later! The thing that really compelled me about her story is that her type of cancer, mesothelioma, is COMPLETELY PREVENTABLE. I feel like you don't hear about that with too many cancers. It is solely caused by asbestos exposure.

An individual may be at risk to develop mesothelioma if he or she was exposed to asbestos in the workplace or at home. Renovation and construction both at home and in schools, and other public facilities also posed high risk areas for asbestos exposure. Asbestos related cancer is common among military veterans who we exposed on naval ships, in shipyards and at military bases, as well as workers at commercial and industrial locations including refineries, power plants, steel mills, auto production facilities and large construction sites. Some of the occupations of workers at risk include electricians, plumbers, boilermakers, carpenters, mechanics, machinists and more. Additionally, if you lived with someone who was regularly exposed to asbestos and washed their clothes, you could be at risk for second hand asbestos exposure.

In most cases, mesothelioma symptoms will not appear in an individual exposed to asbestos until many years after the exposure has occurred. As with most cancers, the earlier it is diagnosed, the more likely it is to be caught at an early stage.

It's a BOY!

2014-06-17T06:16:00.000-04:00

I guess the third time around (if you are me), you kind of become so tied up with all that is happening around you that you forget to tell people you are, in fact, 5 months pregnant. I started getting confused stares about a month ago from the other moms at Niall's pre-school and some of the acquaintances that I frequently see around town. People wanted to ask me if I was expecting-- but as all smart, cautious, polite ladies who don't enjoy jamming their foot in their mouths, they were hesitant to ask.

By now, there is just no hiding it; although I feel like there has been no hiding it since about a week after I took my pregnancy test. The first time I was pregnant, I could fit into a life jacket and water ski until I was almost 7 months pregnant. So I confidently went to strap myself into one about a month ago (4 months pregnant) and was shocked to find that there was no earthly way I was getting that thing closed. People I don't even know are now asking me how I'm feeling and if it's a boy or a girl. I am always tempted to give them a sad, blank stare back and pretend they had made a terrible mistake, just to see the look of horror on their faces... but I am pretty sure I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face long enough to pull that off.

The first time around, with Niall, we decided to be surprised about the sex. But not the kind of surprise that a new mother is envisioning when she chooses to turn the other way for every sonogram appointment over the course of 9 months; not the one where everyone is smiling and cheering at that precious moment when they meet the baby for the first time. I was so drugged up from my unexpected c-section, that all I could say when they shouted "boy" and held him over the blue curtain was "Oh... he's actually cute... that's great" (long story, but the doctor had convinced me during my labor that I was about to give birth to some horrifying creature straight out of the movie "Coneheads").

Consequently, I decided to find out the sex on my second go-around in the hopes that I might actually enjoy the special moment. I was with my sister in law at the time of the appointment, so that was exciting and we were able to fully appreciate the news on a level of consciousness that I hadn't experienced last time.

So this time, I had to shake things up a bit. Knowing that this would be my third c-section, I wanted to find out ahead of time again, but I thought it would be fun to torture myself for a few days first. I had the sonographer put the "results" in an envelope, which I had to hold onto for 24 hours before dropping it off at a bakery, where they would make a cake that was either pink or blue on the inside-- not to be picked up until 3 days later. I had heard of this before and thought it was a cute idea, but I didn't realize how fun and exciting it would actually be. I honestly had no idea until I cut into that cake and was completely shocked to find out that we are having ANOTHER BOY!

Now that people know, everyone is feeling sorry for me and asking if I am devastated that I didn't get a girl-- honestly, I am not. Of course, I would have been thrilled if it was a girl, but I am also just a boy kind of mom at this point. The crazy boy train has been running at this house for almost 5 years now, and I've kind of got this whole mom-to-a-boy thing locked down, so this little guy will fit right in with us.

I am coming to terms with the fact that my bathrooms will inevitably smell like an Amoco Station rest stop for the next 18 years and that there are no tea parties in my foreseeable future... but I am thrilled that Niall and Brendan will have another little buddy to take under their wing. It will be so cute to watch these 3 little guys grow up as best friends, despite how outnumbered I will be in this family :)

Accept the things you cannot change

2014-06-05T16:00:00.001-04:00

Honestly, this could apply to any number of things in my life-- it would probably eliminate a big source of stress if I could accept the fact that my 2 year old doesn't respond to any form of discipline whatsoever-- but right now, at this point in time, I'm having a really difficult time accepting that I simply can't do everything that I set out to do on a daily basis. I am stretched too thin, and what I need to tell myself (and believe) is that it's OK.

Every day for the last 8 months or so, I have told myself right before I go to bed, that I am going to wake up at 5:45 and get some writing done/ enjoy some time to myself. Then, at 7:30 am, right after breakfast, I am going to squeeze in a half hour walk with the kids before heading out the door to drop Niall off at pre-school. Then, at nap time, I am going to do all of the laundry and clean the house. The list goes on and on, but the "checks" never seem to get ticked off that list.

Why am I so surprised that I hit the snooze for an hour every morning, become consumed with random issues that come up after breakfast, and then find myself returning emails and sorting through the junk pile at nap time? Every day this happens and every day, I am so confused and saddened that I can't seem to squeeze a 25th hour into the day.

I think that giving ourselves a break, as parents of young children, is probably one of the most important and most difficult things we can do for ourselves. And yet whenever I do, I feel guilty about it.

I can barely stomach the number of missed photo ops with my kids in the last year, I've lost my patience so much more than I should have (or even did a year ago), pretended I was listening to Niall's stories when I was really zoning out thinking about all of the other things I needed to be doing...

But every once in a while, I get so tired that all I can do is plop down on the couch and completely give up on the never-ending lists... and that's when I get to soak up the best moments; the unexpected ones. That's when the boys climb up on me and we all start making funny faces or have a pillow fight or read ALL of the pages of a book (not my abridged version). These are the precious memories that I know are slipping away and will soon be gone forever. These are the moments when I have to force myself to abandon the daily grind in order to live for something better.

And so, I've decided that I will. And I will stop beating myself up about it. I know that I will always feel a little guilty for not getting other things done, but I also know that it's ok for things to be just "good enough" for now. One day, I will have my order again; my schedules; my attainable goals. But right now, I only have one more year until Niall is in real school-- as in all day long; as in he will be away from me for more time than he will be with me in a given day.

I can literally hear "Cats in the Cradle" playing in my head every time I tell him that I don't have time to build a lego tower together or read him 2 stories instead of just 1 or watch his cool new dance move because I'm in the middle of making dinner. I want to look back on these few fleeting years I have with my kiddos and remember myself putting down the grocery bags to stop and marvel at a worm the boys found in the mud, ditching my phone to go paint with them instead of "supervising" from a distance, and completely tearing apart the sectional couch to build the best fort ever-- regardless of how annoying it is to put it all back together. (And no matter how much Niall insists he can help me with that, I am way too psycho to accept zipper side out and upside down cushions).

So I will strive to be less "perfect", less structured, less of everything that I have always tried to be... in order to be a different kind of perfect. Perfect for this phase in my life, this phase in their life. Perfect for what I want my memories of my young family to be. Perfect for being completely imperfect. And that's OK... for now :)

The Silver Lining

2014-05-09T16:33:00.000-04:00

You know the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." That's pretty much the reason I've stayed off this blog for the entire month of April. I know that kids go through phases, but it kind of feels like these 2 have purposely joined forces at the exact same time and decided to see just what will it take to make their mother lock herself in the closet and never come out again.

For this post, I had originally typed up a long, bitter rant about all of the things that have gone wrong and/or driven me up the wall over the last month or so. At some point in there, I even gave a thorough description of what hell must be like (and I'm pretty confident that it may have been somewhat accurate)... but even so, I decided for the first time in my 4 1/2 year blogging history, that I needed to sit on it. I kept telling myself "Just wait until tomorrow and see if you still want to publish this." And so I did... for 3 days.

In that short time period, I experienced a very poignant, very humbling realization that life is just too short to focus on the stuff that doesn't matter. Will it continue to drive me insane that my 4 1/2 year old won't stop pooping in his pants? Of course. Will it become easier for me not to turn into the incredible Hulk every time my 2 year old hits me in the face? Not a chance.

But when I look back over the course of this entire month-- what really matters, what will go down in the history books (or at least my history book) is not how many pairs of ninja turtle underwear I cleaned up/ threw away, not how many hours Brendan spent in time out (and believe me, it may very well have taken up the better part of half the entire month).

It's brothers walking along the beach together, hand in hand

It's a trip to the ice cream shop for no good reason

It's conquering your fears

It's the magical look on a kid's face when he knows he is sitting on top of the world

It's gasping with excitement, even when he has already shown you 37 other shells just like this one

It's that feeling of being in complete control

It's accepting that sometimes things will be completely out of control

It's that sense of accomplishment that can only come from finding the world's biggest sand crab

It's allowing yourself to do something fun even though you know it's gonna get messy

It's taking a joy ride every now and again

It's the realization that, as much as you want to, you just can't stay mad at this kid

And it's knowing with 100% certainty that no matter how many times you want to throw yourself out the window, you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

7 things you just can't child-proof

2014-03-29T21:00:00.000-04:00

I was sitting in my basement the other day, when this wave of nausea came over me and I suddenly found myself shouting at my kids: "IS IT JUST ME OR IS IT HOT IN HERE???"

That's when I realized... It WAS hot in here, way hotter than it should have been. That's when I put two and two together and ran upstairs to find this:

This is just one of the many obstacles I have faced in child-proofing our house in the last 3 or 4 months. Brendan has suddenly become VERY curious/ mischievous/ strong willed/ defiant about exploring certain things in the house. Basically, if he wants it, he is going to find a way to get to it. Case closed.

Here are 6 other things in my house that simply can't be child-proofed... which has been a super fun challenge for me to (unsuccessfully) try to figure out.

1)

(Niall's shoe... true story)

I have my work cut out for me :)

Flashback Friday... that I didn't post until Sunday

2014-03-23T14:40:00.003-04:00

It recently occurred to me that I have never, in 4 1/2 years of blogging, gone back to the beginning and read through all of my posts. At this point, there are over 450, so it would be quite the endeavor, but I would really love to take the time some day and read about all the different stages both kids went through and how I was feeling at the time-- although I can take a guess for some of those phases ;)

So I started flipping back through some of my photos, because I realized that I couldn't remember what Niall looked like 2 years ago (when he was Brendan's age). All along the way, I've had people tell me that they look so much alike and others say they have grown to look completely different from each other.

I vividly remember, during Brendan's first year, being completely freaked out by how much they looked alike. But then, once Niall turned 3, he looked like such a real kid that I no longer saw any similarities between them. What I didn't realize was how consistently they looked alike at that particular age. (Niall @ 1 vs Brendan @ 1, Niall @ 2 vs Brendan @ 2). I stopped comparing after the baby stage and I was completely shocked by how much they look alike, not just during that first year, but also as toddlers.

Once I compiled all of the photos in a folder, I had to use the background or clothes or setting to figure out who was who for a lot of these. I had no idea that Niall had such blond hair for a while! Honestly, the only real difference between these guys is that Niall is skinnier and has less hair. So let's play a little game of Who's Who. Because I'm curious if it's just me who thinks they are total twins...

(1. Niall, 2. Brendan)

(3. Brendan, 4. Niall)

(5. Brendan, 6. Niall)

(7. Niall, 8. Brendan)

10.

(9. Brendan, 10. Niall)

11.

12.

(11. Brendan, 12. Niall)

13.

14.

(13. Niall, 14. Brendan)

15.

16.

(15. Brendan, 16. Niall)

17.

18.

(17. Brendan, 18. Niall)

19.

20.

(19. Niall, 20. Brendan)

21.

Tricked ya! Both of these are Niall, but they reminded me so much of Brendan, I had to try to throw you off ;)

30 by 30

2014-03-13T15:55:00.001-04:00

30 has now come and gone, so it's a little late for the 30 before 30 bucket list. Honestly, I guess I like the idea of it, but I had to completely block it out of my mind, knowing that if I made a list, I would have ended up putting it together at the last minute, giving myself a few weeks to accomplish all of those things, never actually do them, and then feel really bad about myself for leading such a boring life.

So, instead, I like to reflect; a look back on the things that I have accomplished without even trying, mostly. A better way to look at the big picture, don't you think? I have to warn you, about 75% of this list might not be deemed an "accomplishment" by the majority of the population. But for me, these are events, tasks, memories and idiotic stunts that have somehow made my life all the better. Let's just say my "30 by 30" is a bit... unique.

So here they are: 30 completely random things I have accomplished by the time I turned 30 last week. (In no particular order)

1) been peed on by a tiger... don't ask, it really is that simple
2) participated in Ellen's Dance Dare
3) Took a day trip to NYC... with my 1 yr old... by myself... during Christmas time... and miraculously found parking... and maneuvered around the city with a BOB jogging stroller... and had a panic attack while stuck in traffic inside the Lincoln Tunnel. NEVER AGAIN... but probably would do it again at some point when I'm feeling particularly crazy/ambitious and then curse myself for doing it again
4) came face to face with a baracuda... and proceeded to try to push my snorkeling friends closer to it so that I could get away (I was born with a real motherly instinct)
5) endured 40 hours of labor... and then the 40 minute Adventist minister conversion attempt that followed
6) had my appendix burst while I was studying abroad in Ireland
7) survived a flight where I am 99% confident the plane was struck by lightning... and then proceeded to be thrown across the sky... and then I yelled out "We're not gonna make it!!!".... and made a 15 year old girl cry... and then we made it... and then I flew again (MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT)
8) went waterskiing while 6 months pregnant
9) Irish danced at my wedding
10) Irish danced for Jessica Lang, who I met in a small pub in Ireland with 5 other people in it, all of whom had no idea who she was
11) took an outdoor shower. I don't know why, but you haven't lived until you've taken an outdoor shower.
12) laughed so hard that I've peed myself (specifically, practically every time I get on a trampoline)
13) left my kids and hubby at home for a long weekend in Key West with my girlfriends-- and never once felt guilty about it!
14) watched a sunrise by myself in complete silence on a beach with a nice hot cup of coffee
15) saw a shooting star-- let me explain: I am fully aware that seeing a shooting star is nothing special because EVERYONE has seen a shooting star. Except for me. Until a year ago. I have searched far and wide my whole life and stood helplessly while others screamed out "There's one! Look, another! Over there!" and I would spin around in circles and grab binoculars and never ever see anything. But I finally saw one and now I am at peace. But I have yet to find a 4 leaf clover and I'm not entirely convinced that they exist, so I'm going to let that one go
16) swam with dolphins in Mexico
17) went to a nice dinner by myself and enjoyed a glass of wine.. and felt completely self-conscious the whole time, but told myself that I was exuding confidence
18) spent an absurd amount of money on private ballroom/ Latin dance lessons after watching the first season of "So You Think You Can Dance"... until I realized that we could no longer afford a $250 per month hobby
19) went through a Taco Bell drive-thru in a limo
20) pencil-rolled through a McDonald's drive-thru when they wouldn't respond to me on foot. Someone really should have informed me that it is not, in fact, a "tire censor" that recognizes your presence, but video cameras.
20) jumped off of a bridge... honest to God, because my friends did it
21) was so scared going through a haunted forest with my friend that I decided I had to escape, attempted to run off the path, tripped over the rope, fell on my face and cut up my entire leg... and then when the chain saw men stopped to make sure I was ok and I said "yes", they continued to chase me with their chain saws
22) saw Michael Jackson in concert. Enough said.
23) had a dead squirrel carcass from 1979 fall out of the chimney and directly onto my face-- well, ok, it fell on Matt's face, but I was close enough to still feel the thrill
24) went to comedy school in NYC
25) spent a year traveling the country with complete strangers, bunking up in sleeping bags under stadium bleachers, to help disaster victims in their recovery (AmeriCorps)
26) had a real live tea party
27) gutted and cleaned and butterflied my own fish before cooking and eating them. I felt like a real survivor of the wild, until I remembered that my godfather was standing over my shoulder telling me what to do because I had no idea
28) created a vision board after reading "The Secret"... tucked it under my bed, and then never looked at it again. But I put a lot of effort into that vision. Has to count for something.
29) received a standing ovation for my karaoke rendition of Steely Dan's "Peg"
30) I suppose I should mention my hubby and kids somewhere on here. They are pretty cool, too :)

Second Child Syndrome

2014-02-28T15:16:00.001-05:00

It's kind of strange to look back on the days when Niall was Brendan's age. Everything was completely different from one kid to the next. I spent most of my time taking Niall to different "story times" all over the 10 mile radius, catching rides on the choo-choo train at the mall, and walking down to the Kensington train station to watch the freight cars whiz by.

I knew that things would be different when I had a second, but I can't believe that Brendan has never done any of those things! That was seriously all I did with my first. What did I do to fill my time with little B these last 2 years?

Oh, right, he just tagged along.

He tags along to Niall's playdates, he tags along for our field trips to "big boy" museums & places that Brendan has made quite obvious he is not ready to appreciate yet, he tags along and waits for Niall to take a break from the cool toys so that he no longer has to play with his "baby" ones, he tags along while Niall fills up his piggy bank and picks out poop prizes and decides what cereal they are going to eat that day.

No wonder the kid is so ~~crazy~~ assertive!

I spent so much time worrying about when Niall was going to stick up for himself at that age, when all of the other kids were pushing him around at the train table and snatching toys right out of his hands. Niall would just stare up at me, defeated, and go find a different place to play.

None of that with my #2. Some innocent kid touched Brendan's shoulder at the mall the other day and he instantly got this look of disgust on his face and screamed at him: "GET.... OFF.... OF... MEEE!!!!" We were playing in that kids area at the mall (something I rarely would have done with Niall because "Oh, how disgusting those things are!".... now I am lucky if I remember to wash their hands after we leave) because it was one of those few days that I had some time to kill before picking Niall up from school.

After he verbally assaulted the kid who was trying to play with him, Brendan heard the "Choo Choo!!" in the distance and sprinted to the bench where he could climb up and see. My boy was in complete awe and, with the most desperate, sad face, begged me "I want the choo choo! I want to ride the choo choo!" I am so used to dismissing almost everything Brendan demands, that I was ready to say "Not today", when I realized.... Brendan had never taken a ride on a mall train before!

In my mind, this is a complete travesty. How could I have let this happen? .... Because it's $12 for 2 kids to ride with their mom for a 4 minute loop and a complete waste of money, but that's besides the point.

Suddenly, I realized how special it was to have some one-on-one time with B where we aren't running errands or rushing from one destination to the next. I was actually really excited to ride this train with him and make him the center of attention for once. He waved to every person who passed us and shouted "Choo Choo!" about 57 times. He was so proud to be on that train.

Needless to say, totally worth it...

Yes, Niall has definitely done some pretty cool things in his heyday...

And sure, Brendan has been left out on more than one occasion...

But in the end, I think Brendan is happy to be able to tag along for all of his big brother's adventures. From day 1, he has always been thrilled to come along for the ride. And honestly, while he doesn't get as much attention (or a choice for that matter), his ride is probably much more exciting than Niall's ever was at such a young age.

Plus, he's got something pretty awesome that Niall never had at that age either...

The Luckiest

2014-02-22T17:33:00.003-05:00

Let me preface this by saying "Look who ruined Valentine's Day"...

Niall was sick the other day and while I was busy tending to his needs, Brendan decided to have a little adventure of his own. There were 28 cards with lollipops and now I only have 11 cards with 9 lollipops (2 of which had been opened, licked and then stuck to the carpet). The kicker is-- I can totally envision Brendan downing 19 lollipops (although not in the 10 minutes I wasn't paying attention); what I can't wrap my head around is how he injested the lollipop sticks, wrappers and cards, as well. Seriously, it has been 3 days and I have searched every cabinet, trash can, toy basket, you name it. The valentines are gone. Luckily, Niall ended up being sick on the day of the Valentines Party anyway. (My priorities lie with the valentine-less classmates and not my son's health).

Having said that...

My friend Sarah wrote a piece last week in response to a blog post where a child-less woman pointed out that most mom/dad bloggers make parenting sound like a total nightmare, scaring off anyone who may have been thinking about having a kid one day.

At first, I just thought that the whole thing was kind of a lame excuse for someone who wasn't really sure if they wanted to have kids in the first place. Then, I thought a little more about why I write the way I do, and I acknowledged that it was because I need to find the humor in situations that sometimes make me want to pull my hair out. But then I thought a little more and I realized that I rarely write about the small, quiet, almost unnoticeable moments of my day that make it all so worthwhile; not because I don't appreciate them, but because they are almost something that can only be appreciated by me.

So I will try anyway...

First, I wake up to the sound of giggling, which immediately makes me smile. I've been having a lot of trouble getting up this winter, just because it has been so brutal; but I am always excited to run into their room and scoop them up and hug them the second my eyes open. Every single day, I squeeze them tight for a good minute and say "I'm so happy to see you this morning!" because it is the God's honest truth. I can't help it; the words just pour out like the really annoying, crazy, over-enthusiastic mom characters that you only see in movies.

Then, I find myself inevitably running late-- because I can't seem to pull myself away when Niall suggests "Hey mom, you know what would be a great idea?! We could snuggle together!" So we take turns turns snuggling on the couch together because Brendan likes his own individual cuddle time, and this is all before we even make it to the breakfast table.

Once we get to the kitchen, we take turns doing knock knock jokes and making funny faces and talking about our dreams from last night and not eating our breakfast, but that's ok because Brendan and Niall have some pretty epic zombie faces that I can't seem to get enough of.

Next, I attempt to do yoga in the basement while watching the Today show, which is probably the biggest accomplishment of my day if I actually do it (and if I can actually walk away with one piece of non-hollywood-gossip news). I typically stop after 10 minutes because I can only stay in "tree" for so long with 2 kids hanging from my balancing leg. But that's ok, too, because they give me a good workout, and a good laugh.

When we go out to do our morning activity, I usually spend the whole time talking to the other moms because I am so excited to have real human contact, but whenever we go somewhere like a museum or zoo or nature center or any place of learning, I realize that I never knew I could feel such excitement from a place like that, because no matter how many times I have been there myself-- as a kid, teenager, adult-- you have never experienced anything until you have done it through the eyes of an awe-struck child.

Now here's the part where I give Brendan major props that he isn't normally so inclined to receiving--
Brendan then naps like an angel for 2 1/2 hours every day! How's that for making you want a kid?! ... Buuuuuut, I'm about 99% sure that I have now jinxed myself and Brendan will be one of those kids who abruptly decides to stop napping immediately after he turns 2.

Scattered throughout all of the commotion of the daily grind, I crouch down to their level probably 5-10 times a day and ask them "Have I told you how much I love you today?" Because if there's one thing I will never have to regret, it is telling my kids that I love them enough. Whatever happens to them or me, nobody will ever have to wonder about that.

Once B wakes up from his nap, I run in and press his warm cheek up against mine and hug and kiss him and pet his bed head and whisper in his ear and imagine that time is standing still because I can feel that it is going by too fast already. Then Niall runs in and tells Brendan that he has brought him a present (one of the toys he doesn't care about to prevent Brendan from getting into the ones that he does care about), to which Brendan repies "OH! Thank You Niall!!!". Then, they hold hands and run off to the playroom together. At which point, my heart melts. Also at which point, 5 seconds later, I hear screaming and crying and fighting. Sappy sweet moment over. But more to come at some point in the distant future ;)

Then, we do dinner, cleanup, baths, laundry, stories and all kinds of things that make me wish there were just 2 more hours in a day. But once I've tucked everyone in and had an hour to myself, I go back in to check on them. And this is the part that really gets me day after day... I watch them sleep for a few minutes. Even after 4 years, I like to put my hand on Niall's chest and make sure he is still breathing before I go to bed, and same for Brendan. Maybe it is a superstitious habit, or maybe part of me thinks I can actually breathe them in and preserve a piece of them that I know will be gone tomorrow.

They look so peaceful while they sleep. It's like that person who was screaming at me and making me want to go hide in the closet an hour ago is some complete stranger. A lot of nights, I can't stop the tears from streaming down my face as I'm stroking their sleeping heads--partly because I'm just so unbelievable grateful and I can't believe how lucky I am-- but also because I know that other parents haven't been so lucky; that they've had their everything snatched away from them in an instant.

I can't help but think "Why not me?" It's not like anyone deserves something like that, so what is giving me immunity and how can I hold onto that? Even if I am spared, I still can't stop asking myself: how are those other parents going to go on living? Where is the light at the end of the tunnel for them? I just feel their pain so much, I can't even allow myself to think about it.

So then I kiss my little angels' foreheads and go back to my room and pray "PLEASE Please Please please let me be so blessed and lucky" over and over and over again, until I finally fall asleep. Because a thousand pleas for their happiness, health, and safety would never be enough.

Then I wake up to giggling.

... and I smile because I realize that I've been given another day with those sweeties, and I remember that no matter what craziness this day has in store for me, I am truly the luckiest.

Serious Snow Day

2014-02-15T10:20:00.001-05:00

I have to admit, I'm pretty embarrassed about this post I wrote a few weeks ago-- totally ecstatic about the measly 3 inches of snow we got. I was going on and on about how Niall had never really experienced a "good snow" up until that point. (He was 2 or 3 months old when that crazy blizzard hit in February of 2010, but other than that, he really hasn't seen a good snow since.)

These are the pix from that "snow day"...

Pathetic! I can't believe I busted out the sled for that-- you can almost see as much grass as snow... Granted, this was a good 24 hours after the snow had stopped, but still.

If you're looking for a real snow day, I think this might be more of what you'd have in mind:

Poor Brendan could barely even walk through it. We had to steer him through our already-made footrpint paths so he wouldn't get swallowed. And even then, he barely made it without his boots getting sucked off each time he tried to pick up his leg.

There were times when he was into it...

and times when he just wasn't...

But Niall was all in. I've never seen such amazing packing snow. You could literally stick your hand in and pull out a fully formed snow ball. So naturally, we had to make a snowman. But not just a regular snowman-- a ninja turtle snowman. And not just a ninja turtle snowman-- Dogpound. One of the bad guys. Have you seen what this guy looks like?

http://turtlepedia.wikia.com/wiki/Dogpound

I would like to note that Niall has nightmares about small, harmless bugs that he reads in his science books, but not the bad guys from Ninja Turtles. In fact, he has collected the action figures for almost all of them and likes to sleep with them. My personal favorite is called Rat King; he is basically a mummy wearing a big black hat and cape, with rats perched all across his shoulders. He is completely terrifying, but the only thing that motivated Niall to stop pooping in his pants for a good 2 weeks. So welcome to the family, Rat King.

Anyhoo, we had just gotten our 3 pieces put together when Niall threw out this request for a Dogpound snow sculpture.

By the way, Brendan was a total work horse when it came to this snowman. He never once took a break. Just kept grabbing snow and packing it on there-- with these infant mittens that have no thumbs (a little bit of a cruel trick, but I'm pretty sure that he is used to being constrained in a variety of different ways by now).

So we worked all morning on the spikes for his back...

And then we were going to come back later to do the face...

Nailed it!

Come to think of it, I guess he was a little bit lop-sided. But hey, there's always tomorrow.

Playing in the snow is fun and all, but I equally love the coming inside to warm up part. It's so great how snow is this totally valid excuse for everything... like how super sized amounts of sugar and junk food and movies are perfectly acceptable-- but only because it's a snow day. Which I can always get on board with... because I would never do anything of the sort unless it was a snow day ;)

Commence sugar rush...

Happy Snow Day!

Get that kid on a leash

2014-02-07T15:22:00.003-05:00

I feel like I haven't seen this in a while, but about 10 years ago-- long before I had kids-- I remember there was a decently long phase of kid-leashing going on... which mortified me. I was especially upset by the cute little backpack leashes, where they tried to make this barbaric custom look more socially acceptable by putting a teddy bear pack at the other end of that choke rope.

But those are the thoughts and concerns of a rational, reasonable, kind, empathetic onlooker-- one who DOESN'T have kids. Now that I have a crazy, unruly little hooligan running around, it's a much different story.

This lady?

How dare they judge her! Clearly her kid DOES need to be on a leash. Maybe she is a good parent, because her kid was about to run into oncoming traffic and she stopped his ungrateful little tush.

Can you tell where I'm going with this?

Yes, it is time for Brendan to have a leash of his own. It's happening, and I refuse to feel like a bad person because of it.

Let me tell you a little story about what happens when your 2-year-old won't get into a stroller or shopping cart and you don't have that "cruel" harness to strap him into...

It started out as a day like any other...

Matt was at work and I had to return/ exchange a couple of things at Target. Now, let me back it up a second and preface this story with the fact that I have already learned my lesson to avoid shopping with Brendan whenever possible. And I do. I order all of my groceries from Peapod and I always wait until a Sunday when I know Matt will be able to watch the kids before making a Target excursion. However, I am always rushed wherever I go and end up having to take things back later.

My rule is that if we are talking less than 5 items, I will be crazy enough to attempt running that errand with Brendan in tow. Horrible rule. That rule definitely needs to be changed, effective immediately.

Anyhoo, I had to return 3 items and buy 1 new thing. Sounds easy enough, right? So the return went pretty smoothly, considering all I needed to do was place the items on the counter and wait for her to print the receipt with my credited amount on it. (Although Brendan did spend that entire minute and a half attempting to climb on a huge dolly carrying boxes of inventory and trying to see how far he could jump off of it.)

Then it was off to buy that one t-shirt. I had gotten the wrong size, so I simply needed to go back to that section and find the right size. Brendan refused to let me hold him and wanted to stand on his own. So as I was fishing through the rack for that shirt, B decides to take off. Not just "I'm bored, so I'm going to wander over to this necklace counter," no no. It was "I'm in the mood to do a 50 yard dash-- how about you?"

So I attempt to throw the shirts back on the rack and grab Niall's arm to start chasing him. But as soon as I turned the corner, he was gone. I was a little bit confused, because I was only a hot second behind him, but not yet hugely concerned. I turn the next corner and peek down that aisle. Now I'm starting to sweat a little. The next aisle-- nothin.

At this point, I had that wave of panic tingle over me. I remember very distinctly, that exact moment where I realized that too much time had passed and he was really gone. It was like one second, I was chasing after him, just slightly annoyed and the next second, I didn't know what to do-- do I grab an employee and have him/her block all the exits, do I run to the escalator to make sure he isn't going upstairs, do I check the ends of each aisle to see if he is hiding or is that wasting too much time if he has gotten further into the next section?? Meanwhile, I have Niall with me!

So I start screaming (and I really mean screaming: "BRENDAN!!!!"). Everyone in Target has now stopped what they were doing and are just staring at me. "Have you seen a 2 year old?!?", I would frantically ask every befuddled face who looked in my direction. I don't even know what people's responses were, I could just see the answer in their face and kept moving. Finally, a really nice woman came up to me, as calm as could be, and asked how she could help.

...Commence another potential disaster: "Can you watch my 4 year old?" It was legitimately my only shot at finding Brendan. I couldn't lug Niall around by his shoulder socket, dragging him down every aisle if I was going to find this kid. I needed to sprint and I needed to do it alone. Thank God she turned out to be a really nice person, and because of her I was actually able to quickly make my way to where the little devil was hiding out, HALF WAY ACROSS THE STORE. I would have run right past him, except that 2 ladies had heard my screaming and pointed out that he was standing between 2 long coats, laughing like a little hyena.

When I saw him, I didn't know whether to hug him or punch him in the face. So I chose to hug him (for the time being). As I was running back to the other side of the store to make sure my other child hadn't disappeared, I kept whispering in his ear "You don't EVER run away from Mommy! EVER!", to which he replied in the sweetest, most genuine little voice "I missed you!". It was only the fact that I was now standing in front of the woman who was taking care of my other child that kept me from punching him in the face this time.

And so it goes, the most important lessons in life are always learned the hard way. But this mom knows what she will be purchasing the next time she walks into Target (undoubtedly, without any children by her side)...

Photo Credit: http://bios.weddingbee.com/pics/165400/Baby-Leash.jpg

When Life Throws You Lemons...

2014-01-31T13:52:00.000-05:00

... actually, let's make that "when life throws you 7 inches of snow and bursts your pipes and water starts dripping through your walls...."

Have a birthday party by yourself! That's what I always say.

I'm not a big birthday party thrower for my kids; so every year, I just have pizza and cupcakes on the day of Niall/ Brendan's Tuesday playgroup. This year, I decided to pep it up a little with a Thomas theme for Brendan's big day-- balloons, table gear, made my own cupcake train on my very own hand drawn tracks... so guess what happened after I spent 3 hours of prepping and baking and drawing and purchasing the party gear the day before? (Please see opening sentence).

But no matter what life throws at this kid, one thing is for sure-- nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop him from enjoying a cupcake. (Luckily, I was waiting until the last minute to put the icing on.)

Almost every single cupcake had a bite (or multiple bites) taken out of it by the time I caught him, which, after he saw my horrified face, he quickly inserted "OH, I ALL DONE!"

I was very well aware that this was going to happen if he caught a glimpse of those cupcakes, which is why I immediately took him into the basement after breakfast without letting him see the enticing display. But thinking that Brendan won't smell out a batch of freshly made confections is like thinking a drug-sniffing dog might not find a pound of cocaine hidden under my sink.

No big deal, though. I simply frosted over the gaping holes and pretended it never happened. Nobody to impress here.

Which is also why I used the "0" candle for our private party; no sense in wasting the real number on a trial run, right?

Which is also why I wrapped his present in a Christmas bag; no sense in buying a real birthday bag for a 2 year old who can't tell the difference, right?

Which is also why I didn't actually buy him a present from us, but simply gave him the present that his grandparents had sent me money to buy for him. No sense in wasting money on presents for a 2 year old, right?

(Don't feel sorry for him-- he's 2... and he's closely related to the devil). Besides, in the end, he had his party (a week late), he had his cupcakes, he had his pizza, he had his Thomas balloons and games, and he had his friends.

...And also in the end, he probably didn't have a clue what it means to have a birthday... or friends, which is exactly what I expected from a 2 year old :)

2013 Tribute Video

2014-01-13T18:41:00.001-05:00

Next week is Brendan's 2nd birthday. And although he ends up getting his way just about 89% of the time... despite the fact that he can be one serious pain in the butt... even though he hits me in the face multiple times each day... and let's not even talk about how many times the kid has almost given me a heart attack... where was I going with this??

Oh yes, I do feel that the little guy gets a bit of the shaft when it comes to pictures and videos. With Niall (and I think I speak for most first children), I have hundreds of home videos, literally thousands of pictures, every little milestone was documented and celebrated... and then Brendan will be lucky if he is able to find 1 video of his baby or toddler self when he gets older.

So between the start of a new year, Brendan's birthday, and the very realistic possibility that the next 12 months (and beyond) could result in even more laziness on my part in the picture taking department, a video tribute to 2013 only seemed right. Enjoy it kids, this could be the very last documentation of your childhood :)

Holiday Spirit

2013-12-31T17:04:00.003-05:00

We kind of hit a homerun with the Christmas activities list this year. I think we may have attended every holiday event humanly possible in the DC area and then extended it to the Southern Maryland region when we ran out of things to do here. I'm not sure if I should be patting myself on the back or slapping myself and promising to never attempt doing all of these things ever again.

It started off with a gimme. Snow. Packable, sled-able, snowman-make-able snow for the first time in Brendan's life and what might as well have been the first time for Niall, since he was under 2 the last time we had a good winter snow.

I knew that the day wouldn't be complete without a snowman, but I also acknowledged that I was way too lazy to go full size... so a mini-me snowman did the trick.

Then began the tidal wave of holiday events...

Christmas Lights (Obviously, we have quite a lot of work to do for our house next year)

Zoo Lights

(I don't have any pictures because I was too busy chasing my kids up and down a mile long hill in the dark, running in different directions, without a stroller. It was so much fun that I almost abandoned them for a couple cold brewskis at the zoo bar & lounge)

Trains

Trains at the Botanic Gardens downtown DC (because the first ones near our house apparently weren't good enough)

Breakfast With Santa (with one of Niall's little buddies. Brendan was not interested in sitting on that scary old man's lap and was sure to let us all know)

Christmas at the Petting Zoo (different zoo from the one mentioned above)...

Christmas Clydesdales & Santa on a motorcycle (which sounds really cool, but actually involves a lot of questions about where Santa's sleigh went and why is Santa riding a motorcycle and other logical inquiries that I am not clever enough to answer)

Christmas Morning:

The bike was for Niall and the train table was for Brendan...

...but as all things go with brothers:

Christmas Birthday Party:

I am seriously sweating just recalling the events of the last 3 weeks, but we had fun. And against my better judgement, I will probably do it all again next year and cry myself to sleep a few times when Brendan does everything in his power to separate himself from me in an over-crowded public place. But hey, it's all in the name of Christmas spirit, so how can I say no?

Happy New Year!

Just Your Average Christmas

2013-12-18T15:17:00.000-05:00

I love Christmas (full disclosure: I'm also kind of one of those posers who claims that every holiday is their absolute favorite, but that's besides the point)... I love seeing everyone's lights & decorations, and I make a point to visit every single public Christmas display or exhibit within a 15 mile radius, sometimes twice before New Years.

But with that said, I'm a festive Christmas admirer, not a festive Christmas do-er. You won't find me competing with Betty Crocker next door over whose light display can blow out the transformer first. But I sure would love to watch and applaud if you are going to kick it Griswold style over the holidays. All I'm trying to do is just enough to avoid getting sneers from the community members and live vicariously through my ambitious neighbors. Is that so much to ask? I'm just trying to get by, that's all.

So why am I finding that I can't even get average right?

We don't have garland on our mantle or railings; no wreaths or candles in the windows; so I really wanted the Christmas tree to look nice (considering that is just about the only decoration we have to offer this year).

And yet here she is, ol' faithful...

Notice anything funny about this tree? (aside from the fact that it looks like it is about to fall over)...

Here, let me give you a couple clues...

At first, I would not only put the decoration that had been taken down back up on the tree, but I would also make sure it went right back into its proper place. Nothing worse than incorrect spacing on the tree ornaments, am I right?

Now, after a week and a half of wasting way too much of my time trying to figure out where they all came from, I don't even bother picking them up anymore. Now it's almost become this game of 'let's see if there are any ornaments left on the tree by the time Christmas gets here!'

Niall is cute about it; it seems to matter to him, so he tries to *discourage* Brendan (discourage = whack on the hand) and then promptly puts the decorations back up. Which ends up being a lot of this:

Nothing makes me cringe more than 5 ornaments on 1 branch, but I have learned to take a deep breath and let it go. Actually, I take that back; there is one thing that makes me cringe more, and that is when Brendan does this:

Hey, thanks for at least leaving that jagged stabby top part of the ornament hanging on the branch. How thoughtful of you.

And then there was the gingerbread house. I was smart enough to put Brendan down for a nap before Niall and I started that project, and it actually turned out really cute...

It was when he woke up from his nap that we had the problem...

As far as Christmas stockings go, there are 4 hung on the mantle, so I would call that a success. I didn't quite get around to buying that puffy paint to monogram Brendan's stocking, but I know he's the red and white one, so that should be fine. It's not like he can read anyway.

Now Christmas lights are tricky. Do I attach them to the actual house or just throw them over the bushes? Do I have an extension cord long enough to plug those bad boys in somewhere? Is that extension cord supposed to run through your actual house because I'm not a fan of tripping over cords every time I open the door? How does everyone else make this look so easy and why have I never EVER actually seen anyone in the act of hanging Christmas lights?

Well, I'm pretty sure that Matt just kind of tucked each end of the strand into a snag at the ends of the gutter. Surprisingly, they didn't turn out too bad...

Unless feng shui is important to you...

I have to defend myself on this one-- 300 lights sounded like a lot to me. I think it would be more accurate for them to label the box according to length vs amount of lights, if anyone from Target headquarters is reading this/ cares. Anyway, even if I got another strand at this point, there is no way that Matt will get up there again to do it. And I'm definitely not climbing any ladders and risking my life for the sake of Christmas spirit.

So maybe some eggnog instead. It's hard to get that wrong, but I'm sure I could find a way.

Cheers, Merry Christmas!

If I die tomorrow

2013-12-07T15:55:00.000-05:00

I knew that the process of making a will and getting life insurance would be depressing-- in terms of thinking about your own death (and the death of your spouse); but when you add young children to the mix, you've got a lot bigger fish to fry than your silly little fears about your own demise... cuz guess what: now daddy's taking over.

If you are even the slightest bit of a control freak like me, there are a lot of very real, very scary scenarios a mom has to think about when it comes to her husband picking up this whole child rearing gig on his own.

If I die tomorrow, here are a few situations that I don't see panning out very well for either Matt or the kids:

Scenario #1: Brendan gets diarrhea in a public place that doesn't have a changing table in the bathroom. God help us all. It took me quite a few tries to conquer the standing poopy diaper change in a bathroom stall, and I still consider it quite the feat on the rare occasions that I have to do it. Changing table or not, Matt is so freaked out by poop diapers that he just starts yanking those wipes like a magician pulling ribbons out of his hat. He easily goes through 20 or so on a standard diaper change; which kind of ends up looking like Brendan had some kind of botched chemical peel treatment on his sweet little tush. All I can say to help you both in this situation is "deep breaths" (and try to take those breaths as far away from the actual diaper as possible).

Scenario #2: Matt has to buy a new car. If he has to take those car seats out, they ain't going back in. At least not correctly. There are some things that dads just don't seem to have patience for, and installing the car seats is one of them. Who is going to tell him that the strap up by the head goes over the seat and hooks behind it? Who is going to help him find the anchors and check that the car seat isn't installed too loosely? Can I possibly become a guardian angel and throw a force field blanket over the entire car?

Scenario #3: Matt lets Niall pick the cereal... forever. You know how there are certain father-son bonds that a mom just can't seem to get in on? Like... football, rough-housing, playing swords with their pee streams, etc. Well, for Matt and Niall, this would be going to the grocery store and picking out the most sugary, chemical filled, hydrogenated-fat-loaded cereal and then laughing about what a stick in the mud mom will be when she finds out. Now picture that happening every day (minus the laughing at mom, since that would seem a little inappropriate). When your kid already refuses to eat anything remotely healthy, adding Cocoa Puffs to his daily regimen probably isn't a good idea.

Scenario #4: Matt leaves the house without a snack. Classic rookie mistake. Good luck to you, my friend. I've been punched in the face by Brendan for far lesser infractions than getting into the car and realizing that I forgot the granola "AAH BAR!!! AAH BAR!!!!" The only reason I really worry about this one is that you might feel the urge, when you get punched in the face by Brendan (which you will), to punch him back. Please don't. Thanks :)

The more I thought about this kind of stuff, I realized that I really need to contemplate all of these little daily challenges and write my own private, informal will for Matt:

A Mother's Testament for her Toddlers' Survival (I haven't copyrighted this yet, so don't try to move in on my million dollar idea!)

Matt will never read it, but it will make me feel better to know that if he is really desperate and actually does check one time, I might be able to give him a little divine intervention.

But really, God, can you please wait until they're at least in middle school? That way, they might at least be potty trained. Key word: might.