Too Stinkin Cute

3.

2015-02-23T17:36:00.003-08:00

Mimi,

After the fourth month of my pregnancy with you, I started sleeping in our guest room- and I use the term sleeping loosely. Very loosely. For hours on end, I laid awake in our old, lumpy, and uncomfortable bed. As I tossed and turned, random contractions caused by tiny elbow jabs and what I can only imagine were little dance steps kept me wide awake. It always amazed me that someone so small could make their presence so known.

When I held you for the first time, I couldn't speak. I was shaking-from labor, from excitement, from love. I studied your hands (long and dainty) and your hair (brown and curly). I double checked to confirm that you were really a girl, then I triple checked. My first words finally fell out of my mouth long after you were placed in my arms-" You're beautiful," I whispered in your ear. I was in awe that someone so tiny could be so captivating.

When you were a baby, I spent hours quietly nursing you in the dark while Daddy snored next to us and Tyson slept soundly down the hall. I had so much time to think as we sat there-it wasn't often quiet with a newborn and toddler running around. I thought about the way you already had Daddy wrapped around your little finger and the way Tyson loved to make you laugh as you bounced in your excersaucer and how I just couldn't believe that someone so small could make our family feel so complete.

When you were just shy of a year old, we took you out to eat with your Auntie Katie and Uncle Ryan. You wore a jean skirt and striped leggings with a matching headband that was way too big for your tiny head and some bedazzled tennis shoes that totally made the outfit. You stood on your highchair, tight grip on my hands, and made some sort of dinosaur noise while smiling and waving to the other diners. I watched as people waved back, as waitresses stopped to "talk" with you, as strangers turned and smiled. I didn't realize someone so small was capable of lighting up an entire room.

When you first learned to talk, you named your lovie "GetThat", which couldn't have been more appropriate. "GETTHAT!" you yelled constantly, and, of course, we happily obliged. When you were eighteen months old, you discovered you could delay running errands with me if you needed a diaper change. "I'm STILL pooping!" you would yell when you didn't want to leave the house. When you moved into a big girl bed, you repeatedly asked me for "another tisss and hug" as I tucked you in knowing full well it was a request I just couldn't refuse. I'm still shaking my head and trying to figure out how someone so young is outsmarting me nearly every day. As an aside. I'm also trying to figure out how to curb this behavior by the time you reach your teens.

When you wake up tomorrow morning you will be 3. You will no longer be small or tiny or even young in the eyes of the world, but I can guarantee you'll still make your presence known. When you tiptoe into our room, bright and early with a huge smile on your face, I will still think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. At your birthday lunch, waitresses will still stop to talk with you-other diners will wish you a happy birthday-you'll still light up the room. I was planning on treating you to cupcakes OR ice cream for dessert, but you'll probably outsmart me and wind up getting both. And when I tuck you into bed tomorrow night, I will still marvel at how perfectly you complete our family.

Happy Birthday, my sweet, crazy, little Mimi.

I love you more than words.

Momma

Dory

2015-02-17T14:14:00.002-08:00

Yesterday Mila and I dropped Tyson off at a local art studio for a day camp. The studio had two tiny birds chirping away in a cage near the back of the room that both kids were quickly drawn to. So quickly, in fact, that I'm beginning to wonder if they're actually mine. I mean, what part of dangerous, dirty and pecking your eyes out do they not understand?

But. I digress..

One of the teachers came over to my kids and told them the "cute little birdies" (her words, not mine) were named Arty and Crafty. Clever. She then asked my kids if they have any pets. Tyson smiled and told her about Lola.

Then I left and Tyson made an odd looking dog out of tissue paper.

When I returned to pick Tyson up the first words out of his mouth in the car were, "MOM! We forgot to tell her about Dory. I told her about Lola, but I forgot about DORY!"

Turns out we all kinda forget about Dory. Myself included. I forgot to document that, on a whim, I let the kids bring home a beta fish one random Tuesday morning. I blame all my stupid ideas on the lack of things to do in MN during the winter-random beta fish included.

Meet Dory:

She's (he?) been a quiet addition to our house. So quiet that we usually forget she's here. She currently resides in the kid's bathroom which, I'm sure, is wonderful existence. We haven't forgotten to feed her (at least not yet) and have managed to keep her bowl mostly clean (thanks to Daddy).

I'm fairly certain that if I find her belly up one morning it will take the kids at least a week before they'd notice she's gone. It should also be documented this is a once in a lifetime experience.

Welcome to the family, Dory.

Skipping Nap Time is NEVER a Good Idea

2015-02-16T12:56:00.001-08:00

Last week I had the brilliant idea to surprise the kids, skip nap time and visit the Eden Prairie ice castle. This week I understand that any brilliant idea that involves skipping nap time will not end well.

Touché.

In hindsight, the 45 minute drive to the ice castle accompanied by constant bickering, intermittent crying and random screams from the backseat should have been my fair warning that this might not be my best laid plan. Still, I trucked on.

Again, touché.

We arrived, shelled out $24 to get "inside", and spent exactly 8 minutes there before this:

Because running to keep up with your big brother in an ice castle, on ICE, is not safe.

Items the above picture does not accurately capture:

1) ALL THE BLOOD. Afterwards I was able to determine she cut her lip and suffered a few minor scratches on her face, but in the midst of it, I was fairly certain she was going to bleed out. There was blood EVERYWHERE-coats, scarves, pants, mittens-EVERYWHERE.
2) The crying. Oh, man-the crying.... by the end of the episode all three of us had shed tears in public. I have no shame.
3) The 5 year old meltdown over having to leave. Almost messier than the ample amounts of blood.

On a bright note (because, after shelling out $24 for 8 minutes in an ice castle, I NEED to see a bright spot), the ice castle was really beautiful and the weather on the day we went was amazing. Also, the "before" pictures I managed to snap turned out pretty great, too.

Kindergarten Orientation

2015-02-11T05:16:00.003-08:00

A little over a month ago, I covered up my adult acne and hid my (curling iron) hickey to attend our local kindergarten tour. For thirty minutes, the school Principal graciously showed us his school, answered our many questions and tried his hardest not to stare at the growing craters on my chin. I now know the school's average class size and their teaching philosophy. I saw their cafeteria and their gym and their skating rink and their music room. I met two seemingly wonderful and caring Kindergarten teachers (who also tried really hard not to stare at my acne). I saw art projects the current year Kindergartners had painstakingly painted and talked to 6th grade students about why they adored their science teacher. I left the tour excited, nervous, apprehensive and happy.

And then I went about my business trying to pretend that day never happened.

I mean, surely if I'm still covering up acne and investing in scarves to hide hickeys I'm too young to have a Kindergartner, right? RIGHT?

Apparently not. Yesterday this came in the mail:

Gulp.

In two short weeks, I will escort Tyson into the halls of his elementary school for the very first time. Just typing that sentence makes me want to eat all the chocolate while crying my eyes out. It's a wonder I have acne, huh?

It's just that I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to have him gone 5 whole days each week. I'm not ready to rush him out the door each morning and beg him for information about his day each afternoon. I'm not ready to put him on a school bus with kids 7 years older than him. I'm not ready to not know who he ate lunch with or who he sat next to or who he played with at recess. I'm not ready for homework and field trips. I'm not ready to pack school lunches. I'm not ready to deal with the tough issues that come with bigger schools-like bullying and fights and inclusion. I'm not ready to not see his smiling face all day long I'm not ready to say goodbye to my baby.

I'm not ready, but he is.

He is ready. When he enters Kindergarten he will be almost 6 years old. He'll have completed three years of preschool where he learned not only how to write and read and count, but also the more important lessons like how to listen and be a good friend and be respectful. He's ready for testing and learning to read and new friends. He's ready to play in a gym and have a school library. He's ready to have music class and art class. He's ready for new adventures, new lessons and new teachers.

He's ready, and he'll do great.

I plan on repeating that mantra when we walk into his Kindergarten orientation in a few weeks. In the mean time, I'm busy praying that some of his readiness rubs off on me by September. Oh, and clear skin-I'm hoping some of that rubs off on me too.

Guy Crazy

2015-01-27T12:12:00.002-08:00

This is Mila's bed:

This is Mila's bed on crack.... also known as Mila's bed when she snuggles in for the night.

At last count, there were 22 lovies tucked in there with her. I know I should be worried about her suffocating with all that packed into a full size bed, but, I'm far more concerned with the fact that she calls all these stuffed animals her, "guys."

As in:

"My guys are sleepy too."

"I have to make sure all my guys are tucked in before I can sleep."

"My guys had a bad dream last night."

"Mooomm...give a goodnight kiss to all of my guys."

And, my personal favorite,

"I'm tired. My guys kept me up all night long."

Please, please, please let her never utter this sentence to her Mother again.

Last week, we caught her tearing apart her closet while she was supposed to be taking a nap. As I carried her back to bed and reminded her that this was nap time, she calmly explained, "but Mom, I was just looking for more guys to sleep with."

Gulp.

I figured we would go through a time when she was a little guy-crazy, I just had no idea it would happen at the ripe age of 2.

Does this mean she's advanced for her age?

Elf on A Shelf 2014

2015-01-21T03:50:00.001-08:00

It's been 26 (glorious) days since I retired from my part time job as an Elf. Not that I'm counting.

For those reading, I'd like it noted that I took over Elf duty 100% this year-there was no participation or help or even suggested ideas from the husband. None. Oh, no-that's not bitterness you hear in my voice.

While you're taking notes, I'd also like it documented that it was exhausting and tiring and a lot of really hard work. Also, blood, sweat and tears. While maybe not blood-but definitely sweat and tears.

Don't believe me?

I present Exhibit A:

That's three strands of Christmas lights wrapped around our toilet. Strung at 2 AM. Because I woke up in a near panic attack when I forgot to move him before I fell asleep.

Still not convinced?

How about Exhibit B:

33 balloons in a bathtub blown up by yours truly during two nap times. Yes, I wasted TWO nap times blowing up balloons for an elf. If you're not crying by now, I'd like to know the names of the medications you are on.

Also, for good measure, Exhibit C:

A zip-lining elf. Idea credits to Pinterest on this one, but work credit to me. I woke up at 4:30 to construct that bad boy. And there may have actually been blood drawn as I cut the zip line on this one-my memory is hazy from the lack of sleep.

So-yes, BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS. All of them.

By day 20 in Elf-land, I almost threw in the towel. Desperate not to disappoint the kids, I searched Pinterest and found what might be the only reason Chippy gets to return next year-elf provoked random acts of kindness day.

On day 21, my kids woke up to an empty box, some supplies from Chippy and this note:

Not one to let an opportunity to get on Santa's nice list pass him by, Tyson dove right in and came up with 2 boxes of old toys to donate before breakfast. Mila was less enthused with the idea of giving up her toys, but agreed to pose unsmiling next to said boxes.

We spent the better part of the morning hand drawing cards for our local police and fire stations and compiling a list of people who make us smile or work hard for us everyday (Target cookie lady, our pastor, the kid's pediatrician, Mommy's Starbucks barista-clearly).

Then we set out. For two hours, we drove around handing out Redbox movie codes, popcorn, donuts, coffee and hot chocolate. In return we received smiles. Lots and lots of smiles-from the recipients, from people watching us, and on our own faces.

It was hands down my favorite day of the holiday season this year and a tradition I can't wait to continue. I'm hoping the kids learned that giving can be more rewarding than receiving. And that it's easy to make someone smile. And that it's important to appreciate the everyday things other people do for us. If day 21 left even a tiny imprint of those lessons on their brain, Chippy was worth the blood, sweat and tears this year.

That said, on day 23, I did send a subliminal message to the husband:

Still not sure he got it.

Until next year, Chippy.

Christmas 2014

2015-01-08T13:06:00.001-08:00

I've delayed writing our 2014 Christmas summary for as long as possible. Too long, maybe. It's just writing the blog entry seemed equivalent to pounding the final nail in our Christmas coffin and I wasn't ready.

A tiny part of me wants Christmas to last year round. The wonder and awe, the magic, the family time-I could take that 365 days of the year. It's the crazy amounts of spending and eating (and the small amounts of sleep) that I could do without.

We are (somewhat) back into a normal routine-eating better and sleeping more, but I miss this:

I don't miss the screaming and yelling over who got to use the red fishing pole, but that hug he gave her as a thank you? Priceless. This year we started a new tradition of the kids picking out presents for each other. Tyson gave Mila a Lego set and Mila picked out this fishing game for him. Both were pleased with their gifts and pleased over giving their gifts. Win/Win.

Other top presents (not from the big jolly guy) included:

Mila- A dress like me dolly from Auntie Katie and Uncle Ryan-if allowed she and her doll would wear their matching PJs all day every day.

Tyson- A Teddy Bridgewater jersey from Mommy and Daddy (#5 to match his age!). Apparently this was, "just what he always wanted!"

Mommy and Daddy-These headphones. The quiet they generate is worth sooo much more than the $8.99 I paid for them. So much more.

Christmas Eve, after the family presents were opened, we meticulously selected the best cookies for Santa, laid out the reindeer food for Rudolph and dictated this well thought out letter in a last ditch attempt to get the best presents next to our stockings.

It worked!

Apparently they were on the extra nice list this year. Also known as the spoiled rotten list.

Favorite present from Santa:

Tyson-this Lego set that he begged and pleaded for. And the country skis Santa bought at a garage sale. And a basketball hoop. I know. Trust me, I know. I think he even knows-he actually exclaimed in excitement, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" when he rounded the corner Christmas morning.

Mila-a new "Get-that." The amount of love she has for these two lovies is alarming. She is still telling literal strangers on the street that she got a new "get-that" for Christmas. They have no idea what she's talking about, but she's telling them.

We capped off Christmas 2014 with more of this:

And a birthday cake celebration for Jesus. Which, more sugar-just what we needed.

Hoping your Christmas was just as magical as ours.

Stage Fright

2014-12-15T13:33:00.001-08:00

About twice a week, I am treated to a loud and joyful concert by our two year old. She sings proudly with genuine excitement and often, surprisingly, on key. It's beautiful noise that stops me in my tracks and puts a smile on my face.

Cute, no?

Unfortunately for me, most of these loud and joyful concerts usually take place when said two year old is supposed to be napping.

So, smile on my face, but fear in my heart because, oh God, are we are approaching no naps?

Somebody hold me. Or, better yet, hold HER-rock her to sleep-sing her a lullaby! Anything! We CANNOT give up naps yet.

Ahem.

As I was saying, for the last month and a half during "nap time" she has been perfecting her preschool's Christmas pageant song, "Away In a Manger." For an hour or so a day, she would sing about the little Lord Jesus laying down his sweet head. She knew every single word of the song and she sang it LOUD. It was adorable and the reason why I could hardly contain my excitement for her first ever Christmas pageant.

On the day of her performance, we dressed her in her red holiday velvet and headed off to church with our cameras ready to capture all of the adorableness.

Well maybe not all of it......

Shortly before her class was to take the stage, while sitting in the middle of a quiet church, Mila loudly declared she needed to poop.

Of course she did.

Five minutes later, business taken care of, Mila joined her class on stage already midway through "Away in a Manger." I ducked down in the front row and pulled my phone out hoping to proudly catch her loud and adorable voice belting out the second half of the song.

But she did nothing. NOTHING. Despite months of private dress rehearsals, she did not speak a word on stage. She also didn't smile on stage. Or move.

That's her-front left-adorable red velvet dress, no smile on her face and no songs coming from her mouth and frozen in place.

Still cute, but.....

Perhaps she was aware of how ridiculously cute she looked just standing there and didn't want to risk making it any more adorable by singing too.

Or, maybe she was tired from her lack of napping.

She did manage to give us a private performance later that day at, yep, you guessed it-nap time.

PS: Mila also had her first ever dance recital this week where she was able to sing and dance on stage. Her curtsy at the end was with her back to the audience and slightly resembled an attempt to moon us. I guess she's worked through her stage fright.

Like Father, Like Son

2014-12-09T15:11:00.001-08:00

In 1998, when Daddy graduated from high school, he was named best athlete of his graduating class. It's an accolade he won't let us (or anyone he meets on the street) forget. Its clear to us that Tyson, at the ripe age of 5, is already following in Daddy's footsteps.

Already a multi sport athlete, he excels at hockey, basketball and football. Not one to limit his talents, he also dabbles in golf, baseball, wrestling, soccer and tennis. We're happy he's keeping all of his doors open and hoping for a contract (any contract!)that will help pay for our retirement.

Just a few weeks ago, Coach Pitino of the Minnesota Gopher basketball team asked for his assistance on the court.

At 41 inches tall, his layup percentage was poor, but he never missed a dunk.

Thankful for his help, the team invited him back to watch their first home game. He was a bit confused as to why the players didn't recognize him, but we explained it was good to keep a low profile.

His quick feet on the court have also proven useful in his backyard football games against Daddy where he consistently wins by at least 145 points. Yes, you read that right-145 points against North St. Paul's 1998 Athlete of the Year. Pretty impressive stats if you ask me.

He has also inherited the art of armchair quarterbacking from his Daddy. Every Sunday you can find him on the couch yelling at the Vikings to "Get the Packers!" We've tried to explain that the Vikings don't always play the Packers, but are hesitant to squash his staunch disdain of Cheeseheads.

His hockey talents have also continued to amaze all (2) of his fans. Despite actually being smaller than his hockey bag, Daddy says he is one of the fastest skaters on the ice. Apparently this stems from his ability to stay low to the ground when he skates which, despite how it might appear from the stands, is not the same thing as staying on the ground. Just yesterday he told me he was looking forward to his first "real" hockey game so he could "crush up the other team." Obviously.

All this to say, Stillwater class of 2028, you better start working out if you expect to beat Tyson for best athlete-he's got good genes working in his favor.

PS: Daddy was also the runner up for best hair in his graduating class. Looks like Tyson is going to one-up him on this one. Touche, Daddy.

Santa and Sass

2014-12-02T14:32:00.001-08:00

My mom warned me that dealing with sass was an integral part of having a daughter. She cautioned me about the defiance, reminded me of my own back talk and advised me to prepare for the eye rolls.

I guess I just didn't realize it would start so early. Like today. At the ripe age of 2.

This morning, because I believe in cruel and unusual forms of parental torture, I took the kids to the Mall of America to see Santa. By myself.

It's ok, you can laugh.

Our day started off swimmingly. We took in the free performance of Rudolph in the rotunda, colored at the Disney store and took this adorable pictures in front of their giant Christmas trees.

Don't let that sweet smile fool you.

As we waited in line to see Santa, I wasn't even anticipating the sass that Mila was about to throw down to the innocent bystander behind us.

Sweet Lady in Line: "Oh I bet you two are excited to go see Santa!"
Tyson: "We are!"
Mila: "I'm not..." (please read in the most annoying whiny sing-song voice you can imagine)
Sweet Lady in Line: "What are you going to tell Santa you want for Christmas?"
Tyson : "I'm going to ask for more Legos"
Mila: "I want a GETTHAT!"

************We interrupt this story to bring you the story of "GetThat." "GetThat" is a (usually dirty) lovie that Mila has slept with since birth. It was also one of her first word(s?). Since just over a year old she has referred to her lovie as "GetThat" and we have lovingly complied. Looking back, this probably was a strong indicator of the amount of sass she possesses.********************

Sweet Lady in Line: "Oh! You want a cabbage patch?"
Mila: "NOOOOOOAHH! I want a GETTHAT!"
Sweet Lady in Line: "A what, honey?"
Mila: "A GETTHAT!"

Sweet Lady in Line looks to me for an explanation. I mumbled the above story as my cheeks turn red.

Sweet Lady in Line: "Ohhh. Well, wow. You certainly have a lot of sass in that one, don't you?"

You have no idea, sweet lady. No idea.

And just think, Sweet Lady in Line didn't even get to witness Mila rolling her eyes at Santa a few minutes later.

I'm saving this picture so I know there is someone who can commiserate with me in a few short years.

On a bright note, sass still looks cute on a 2 year old.

Chippy 2014

2014-12-01T09:56:00.002-08:00

Prior to getting married, I was told I needed to register for China. It was, apparently, a requirement of marriage. A necessity. As a 27 year old who frequented such fine establishments such as Chili's and Applebee's, I was faintly aware that China referred to fancy plates of which we were to eat off of. I was even more faintly aware of the price of said China.

We searched high and low for China. Oh, who am I kidding, I searched high and low for China. Dan didn't give two shits. I scoured the Internet and visited multiple stores searching for the perfect China.

Afterwards, I would meet Dan at Chili's to discuss my findings.

We (read I) finally decided on the perfect place settings. They were simple, yet classic. Timeless and elegant. Everything China is supposed to be, I'm sure.

To date, we've been married 6 years and 4 months. We've used our China three times total. It's sat on our table for less time than I spent searching for it.

Even more pathetic? Each of the three times I've hauled out (and dusted off) our China has been for our Elf on a Shelf, Chippy.

Not exactly the special occasions I imagined I would need the required China for.

Elf on a Shelf season is quite possibly my least favorite time of the year. It's stressful and exhausting and it stretches my highly uncreative mind to all of it's limits-I mean I dusted off China for this foot tall visitor. I also spent over four hours (ahem) hand painting a sleigh for him to arrive on.

Yes, I've questioned my sanity.

Thankfully, the looks on their faces when they saw Chippy in his pint sized sleigh and their tiny donut snowman on our beautiful China made it (mostly)all worth it.

Happy Elf on a Shelf season. If you need me I'll be busy stringing lights around our toilet, hanging underpants on the tree and attempting other elf feats.

Thankful (the 2014 edition)

2014-11-28T17:07:00.003-08:00

The Thanksgiving tree made it's second appearance in the Pavel house this year. True to form, Tyson out-performed everyone and Mila, well, Mila let's just say she's happy there's food on our table.

The things we are thankful for in 2014:

1) I am thankful we forgive our family members-Tyson
2) I am thankful that this year, instead of driving to work in the first snowfall, I was able to go outside and play in it-Mommy
3) I am thankful for water-Mila
4) I am thankful we are all healthy-Daddy
5) I am thankful that we spend time with our family and do fun things-Tyson
6) I am thankful for our friends, family and neighbors-Mommy
7) I am thankful for milk-Mila
8) I am thankful we have such a wonderful and caring Mommy-Daddy
9) I am thankful our family loves holidays-Tyson
10) I am thankful for the 2 great schools that Tyson and Mila go to-Mommy
11) I am thankful for french fries-Mila
12) I am thankful we have such smart kids-Daddy
13) I am thankful it's sunny in the summer and a little sunny in the winter-Tyson
14) I am thankful my kids have a Daddy who loves playing with them-Mommy
15) I am thankful for family dinners-Mila
16) I am thankful for the roof over our head-Daddy
17)I am thankful we all like candy except Daddy-Tyson
18) I am thankful for a good conference with Tyson's teacher-Mommy

Happy Turkey Day!

5 Years

2014-11-05T05:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Tyson,

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a Mommy. I would wrap my dolls up in blankets and sling them on my hip while I cooked dinner in my Little Tykes Kitchen. My babies had a pretend Daddy that I would talk to on the phone-I'd tell him to bring home more milk and chocolate chip cookies. I fed my babies bottle after bottle and perfected the art of singing a lullaby while rocking them to sleep.

When I was a little girl, my babies were always babies. They never got older. I never played Mommy to a two year old boy who was awesome at puzzles. I never read a precocious three year old boy bed time stories. I never watched a determined four year old boy play hockey.

What a shame.

Today, as of 6:02 PM, I am the Mommy to a talented, sensitive, kind, ridiculously smart and hilarious 5 year old boy--you! And, while feeding you a bottle in my arms so many years ago was pretty awesome, so, is feeding you macaroni and cheese while discussing Gopher football and the newest Jake and the Neverland Pirate episode.

I'm kicking myself for not knowing then what I know now. Little girl me would have loved being the Mommy to 5 year old you-its pretty awesome.

As your Momma, I get to know true unconditional love. I hear, "I love you, Momma" through bleary eyes at 5 AM-it's the first thing out of your mouth most days. And I hear it from around the corner at 1:20 PM as I'm struggling to quiet your crabby sister. And always, always it's the last thing you whisper to me each night before bed. "You look beautiful today" and "Your the best Mommy ever" also escape our mouth often and usually when I need to hear it the most. You offer endless hugs, still want to give me a kiss before I leave, and give the best butterfly kisses around.

And I get to have SO MUCH FUN as your Mommy. I get to build forts and roads and cities. Because of you, I am well versed in Superheroes and was even protected by Batman himself this Halloween. I get to play UNO and Yahtzee and Monopoly with Disney characters on the game pieces. I get to color and play with Legos and find the best hiding spaces for hide and go seek. I get to watch you "crush" Daddy in backyard football and race you to bed each night.

There's also an element of adventure in being your Mommy. My heart never pounded when I swaddled you as a newborn but it sure does when I see you twenty feet in the air at Spiderman park. Or climbing the jungle gym with a broken (and casted) arm. Or reaching out to touch a shark on the beach in Florida. Or attempting to ride your bike without training wheels for the first time. You sure like to keep me on my toes!

I also feel overwhelming pride. My heart swells just watching you walk into preschool each morning. Last week you told your teacher that your favorite toys were "all the learning ones" and I had to wipe away the tears. I also cried at preschool graduation last year, your 5 year well check yesterday and from the sidelines at hockey last summer as I watched you finally get the hang of pushing off with both feet. I cry-a lot, but it's a good cry, baby. I also smile- when you share happily with your sister, when a stranger compliments your behavior, when you use your manners, when I look at your sweet face.

If I had even an inkling of just how awesome it was to be a 5 year old's Momma, I'm certain my pretend babies would have grown up. I would still call Daddy to bring home more cookies, but I'd also ask him to pick up some Gatorade and meet us at your next hockey game. And, instead of rocking you to sleep, I'd tuck you in to bed and steal one more butterfly kiss and wait patiently for that last, "I love you Momma."

I love you, buddy.

Happy Birthday to the smartest, funniest, and most determined 5 year old I know.

I am lucky to be your Mommy.

Love,

Momma

Halloween 2014

2014-11-02T13:15:00.000-08:00

This weekend we celebrated Halloween on Friday night and Daylight Savings on Saturday night. Which, for a parent, is the equivalent of cruel and unusual punishment-an extra hour to spend with your over sugared AND over tired kids.

I had big plans to blog about all of our Halloween festivities today, but most of my energy was exhausted by 6:00 AM. A 5:18 wake up "tap" from Tyson and a 45 minute "disagreement" with Mila over why she couldn't have a sucker for breakfast will do that to you.

So, no blogging today--just pictures of a kitty and a batman who are both busy attempting to make this the longest day of my life. They're lucky they're cute.

And with that, I'm off to break up a fight over who gets to use the blue crayon. Despite the fact that we have at least 5 other perfect blue crayons ready and available for the other one to use.

Why We Painted Our Pumpkin Teal

2014-10-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

If memory serves me correctly, we started feeding Mila finger foods at ten months old. As recommended by our pediatrician, we were slow to introduce each food and would wait 2 to 3 days before trying something new.

Tyson had a slight egg allergy when he was younger, so, we were cognizant of the need to monitor for food allergies. We watched for the standard signs-diarrhea, rash or vomiting and saw no immediate reactions as we continued to introduce food after food after food.

Around her first birthday, Mila had her first eczema flare up. Tyson had eczema when he was younger, but his would quickly go away with an oatmeal bath and repeated applications of Eucerin. Mila's, however, didn't go away as easily.

At her one year check up, Mila's doctor prescribed a steroid cream which provided some relief. The eczema cleared, but flared up again a week later. A return trip to the doctor resulted in yet another steroid cream which, again, provided only short term relief. Rinse and repeat for the next six months.

At it's best Mila's eczema would be gone for three to four weeks at a time.

At it's worst, it progressed to impetigo and resulted in a painful and feverish little babe.

For a little over a year of Mila's life, we watched helplessly as our baby screamed when bath water hit her face, cringed when friends would ask what was wrong with her and struggled to find the answers to help her.

She had no other symptoms. We never noticed swelling inside her mouth, she never had diarrhea and never vomited.

We invested way more than I care to admit in lotions and potions and creams and bath salts. We visited her pediatrician 8 times between her first birthday and her second. We cut out gluten and then milk and then soy, but still no relief. We even (shudder) tried bathing her in a doctor recommended bleach bath.

During this time, we did visit an allergist. Through a blood test, we had her tested for dairy, soy, wheat, peanut, eggs and pet dander. Her results showed a "slight"peanut allergy, however, her allergist indicated that based on his opinion the allergy was so minimal that it wouldn't be necessary for us to eliminate them from her diet.

So, following the advice of our allergist, we allowed her to continue to eat peanuts and peanut butter.

And the eczema continued to flare on and off until last Christmas.

On Christmas Day, during a family celebration, Mila ate a homemade Chex Mix with almonds and peanuts. She also ate cashews and possibly even a few pecans.

Within ten minutes of dinner, I noticed a rash around her mouth and dismissed it as yet ANOTHER eczema flare. As I changed her diaper a few minutes later, I saw the rash was also on her stomach. And arms. And back. Panicked, we attempted to give her a dose of Benadryl only to see that her lips had also started to swell.

We rushed her to the emergency room of the nearest hospital and watched horrified and in tears as she suffered an anaphylactic reaction to tree nuts and peanuts.

I cannot describe the fear and panic I felt that day as I watched the nurses yell for another steroid injection. And the blame that floated around in my head as I heard them discuss calling an ambulance to transfer her to Children's. I could have prevented this. I should have prevented this. Unknowingly, I allowed my daughter to eat foods that could have killed her.

We now know that Mila is allergic to tree nuts. Eating hazelnuts or pistachios or cashews or pecans or walnuts can kill her. She still has a slight allergy to peanuts and we have now been advised to avoid them as well. Since cutting out all tree nuts and peanuts from her diet, we no longer have eczema flare ups. Mila will be blood tested and skin tested after she turns 4 to determine if any of her allergies have changed. Until then, I will carry my EpiPen and panic with me everywhere I go.

This will be our first Halloween since her reaction. I have sweaty palms thinking about. Mila is going as a kitty - a pink, fluffy and adorable kitty who cannot eat peanuts or tree nuts. We are hoping to keep her trick or treating experience as normal as possible and planning to go through her candy after we tuck her safely into bed that night.

As she gets older, it will become more difficult to monitor what she eats, but hopefully she will become more knowledgeable about her food allergies. In an attempt to help her and other kids with food allergies, we spent the morning painting a pumpkin teal.

This Halloween, FARE (Food Allergy Research and Education) is encouraging families to place a teal pumpkin on your porch as a sign to other families that you have non-food treats available at your home. We plan on handing out Sixlets (nut free and processed in a nut free facility) and stickers. Additional information about the Teal Pumpkin Project can be found on FARE's blog
(www.blog.foodallergy.org)

Here's wishing EVERYONE a safe and happy Halloween!

Still.

2014-10-07T12:37:00.001-07:00

He's almost five. He can buckle his own seat belt but still waits for my hand to walk across a parking lot. He mixes his own macaroni and cheese and writes own name, but he looks so small when I drop him off at school. He can read some words on his own, but his head still fits snugly on my chest during story time. He brushes his own teeth and washes his own face, but still waits for me to tuck him in each night. He still talks quietly and cries loudly. He still likes me to sing him a lullaby. I can still rub his forehead lightly to ease him to sleep.

Most days he's almost 5, but some days, if I glance at him just right I can still picture the way his eyelashes used to flutter before he drifted of to sleep in my arms.

She's two and a half. She can count to fifty and sing her ABCs, but my favorite word out of her mouth is still, "Mama." Her hair fits with ease into a pony tail, but she still has the wispy curls I used to run my fingers through as I rocked her to sleep. She's still content and happy and independent. She can pull on her own PJ pants, but her little legs still fit perfectly around my body when I carry her off to bed. She no longer cries out for me in the middle of the night, but she still babbles my name as she drifts off to sleep.

Most days she's two and a half, but some days, if I hold her just right, I can still feel the way she fit in my arms as I nursed her to sleep.

He's almost five, she's two and a half. Neither of them are still babies, but they'll always be mine.

How To Potty Train Your Stubborn Two Year Old

2014-09-30T13:51:00.002-07:00

This blogging hiatus brought to you in part by the strong willed, determined and feisty two year old shown below.

She looks cute, no?

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to stare at that adorable face for approximately 10 hours per day. Which would be entirely enjoyable if those 10 hours staring weren't spent on the cold and uncomfortable bathroom floor begging her to put her pee-pee in the potty.

Because someday (a long, LONG time from now) little Mimi will undoubtedly have her own cute, strong willed little offspring that will require potty training I have decided to document the steps that worked for her. Mimi- you can call me to thank me thirty years from now from your own bathroom floor.

STEP 1: Gather the supplies.

I scrounged up at least 20 pairs of underpants, a variety of juices, milk and water to offer constantly, a doll that would be "potty trained" at the same time, skittles for a reward, and a plethora of cleaning wipes.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Wine, though not pictured, is perhaps the most essential supply.

STEP 2: Strip the pants and be prepared to spend all the hours in your bathroom.

For two days straight, we went no where and I let you run the house in underpants only. Using the doll, we taught you the difference between wet underpants and dry underpants and periodically would ask you if you were wet or dry. Drinks were offered constantly and I brought you to the bathroom every hour even when you insisted (read: screamed and cried) you didn't have to go.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Accidents were frequent, time spent in the bathroom was exponential and wine, though not pictured, ~~may have been~~ was consumed on the cold and uncomfortable floor.

STEP 3: Don't give up. Day 3 brought an hour clocked in the bathroom and two accidents before 9 AM. Coincidentally it also brought tears from me and you. As much as I love hanging out in the bathroom, I was DONE. And you were too. Rather than throwing in the towel, I decided to put the training in your hands on Day 3. After your second accident, I explained it was now up to you to let me know when you had to use the potty.

Crazy, right?

BUT this harebrained idea actually worked. After 9 AM, you had NO more accidents on Day 3. NONE. And leaving the training up to you resulted in way less hours on the bathroom floor. I was able to drink my wine on the couch like the civilized mother I am.

STEP 4: Drink a bottle of wine with your husband to celebrate. Make it an expensive bottle of wine-you no longer have to buy diapers, right ?

Mila- I am so, so proud of you Peanut! You did it! Someday ( a long LONG time from now) I'll look back on the two days I spent locked in a bathroom with you and miss it so much.

...........................................I now return you to your regular blogging schedule already in progress.

Tyson's Last First Day of Preschool

2014-09-08T08:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Tyson,

Today is your third first day of preschool. It's hard to believe it's been two years since we first said watched you walk into the doors of Little Angels. My, how you've changed!

Two years when we dropped you off, you were so, so tiny-standing a full three chain links below the preschool sign. You were timid, shy and nervous. On the first day, you cried and held tight to my leg, so, I cried and held tight to my heart.

Your first year of preschool taught you to listen to a teacher. It taught you to share with your friends and follow the rules. You learned about circle time and walking in a line and a life without Mommy or Daddy there.

Last year, you had grown-your tiny head stood just below the sign. You wore a brave smile and confidently led me to your classroom. I proudly left you there with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.

Last year in preschool you learned how to be a leader. You met new friends that you invited over for playdates. You brought home art projects and new songs and stories about Jesus. You learned how to cut and perfected writing you name.

Today you stood tall-your head slightly above the sign. You practically ditched me at the door and ran into your classroom. I smiled and waved goodbye. No tears were shed until I sat down to write this note and had time to reflect on the confident, happy and smart little boy I had left behind.

School will be a little different this year-new teachers, new classroom, more friends to play with-but you're ready. You're ready for routine and learning and change and growth. You've got this, buddy.

And, coincidentally, I've got approximately 365 days to deal with accepting the fact that you will head off to Kindergarten next year.

Best of luck to both of us.

Love you and so, so proud of you,

Momma

Off To The Races

2014-09-05T04:05:00.000-07:00

I decided to run my first 5K nine days before the actual race. When I arrived at the starting line, I had only ran 3.1 miles consecutively on three other occasions. I was intimidated and nervous. My running shoes were at least 5 years old, I had no idea where to pin on my racing bib (is it called a bib?), and I planned on running with my iPhone in my hand.

26 minutes and 49 seconds later, I crossed the finish line while simultaneously crossing an item off my bucket list.

Tyson decided to run his first tot trot less than 24 hours before the actual race. He didn't train at all, ran with a shark painted on his cheek, a smile plastered across his face and blue hair spray in his hair.

35 seconds later, he crossed the finish line.

26 minutes and 49 seconds was fast enough to claim 5th place in my age group, 21st place for women, and 66th place overall. While I found these stats brag-worthy, Tyson just wanted to know why I was fast enough to get a medal or a ribbon.

35 seconds was fast enough to claim 1st place in the tot trot. And a ribbon.

Touche.

We are currently considering signing up for our second race at the end of October where I have lofty ambitions to win a ribbon or a medal. Game on, Buddy.

Mimi's First Day of Preschool

2014-09-02T17:38:00.002-07:00

My Little Mimi,

Tomorrow morning you start preschool. You are hesitant and scared and I know you will shed body convulsing tears when I leave you behind.

Want to know a little secret, Peanut? I'm scared too. And even though you'll only see the reassuring smile I have plastered to my face, I'll be crying as I pull out of the parking lot and leave you behind. Maybe not body convulsing tears, but crying nonetheless.

We need to be brave tomorrow, Mimi. Drop off will be difficult and scary, but it will be worth it, I promise. School will be worth it.

At school you will meet new friends and learn from a new teacher. You will paint and color and play with playdough-all things you love doing at home, but now you'll do them at school. You'll sing songs-some that you already know and others that you will learn. You'll play "Ring Around the Rosie" and dance to new music. You'll play at a new playground-the slides look awesome! You'll gain self confidence. You'll learn how to share. You'll play with new toys, read new books and play new games.

You'll be good, Mimi. School will be good.

Your teachers will love your manners and your humor and your incredibly large for your age vocabulary. Your friends will love the songs that you can make up on the spot, your hugs and your undying love for babies.

So, tomorrow, lets be scared AND brave. Let's cry body convulsing tears because we'll miss each other, but smile room brightening smiles for all the new things you'll get to see and do and learn

I'm excited for you, baby. Go, learn, be brave, and have fun.

I'll be there waiting to hear all about it when school is done.

Love,

Momma

Mila 2.5

2014-08-24T03:29:00.000-07:00

Little Mimi,

Today you are two and a half.

I know! I KNOW! I'd bore you with the details about how it feels like we just brought you home yesterday, but you only sit still for so long these days.

Two and a half is hard, Mimi. For both of us. You are sassy, spunky, strong-willed, determined and every other adjective one can think of to politely say you are deep in the throws of the terrible twos.

A spitfire, I tell ya. And a cute one to boot-the worst combination.

It's hard and some days I feel like pulling my hair out, but just when I think I can't muster up the energy to calmly handle another tantrum I hear you quietly singing in the living room-a made up song with a chorus that repeats, " I love Mommy! I love Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

And my heart melts.

You are, unfailingly, a Mommy's girl at two and a half-it's the redeeming quality that accompanies your terrible twos. It's my name you yell out each morning when you wake. If anyone were to ask you what you dreamt about the night before you will always reply, "Momma." You beg me to "cawwy you" wherever we go, you seek me out in a crowd for reassurance and it's my name you chant as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you are a Mommy's girl at age five, too. And at age fifteen and at age thirty. And so on and so on.

Separation anxiety is currently kicking both of our butts. You are terrified of being left some place without Mommy by your side. We both (barely) survived your first go at summer school. You're not a fan of strangers talking to you. Or smiling at you. Or, heck, even looking at you. You'll start a pre-preschool program at a local church in a few weeks and I'm sure there will be tears from both of us on drop off day. I'm hoping and praying mine won't fall until I'm safely out of your sight.

You are officially a "girly" girl -you love high heels and dresses and skirts and babies. You adore your brother and have taken to calling Daddy, "DAN!" You are smart-you can count to twenty two, sing the ABCs and spell your name with ease. You like to dance and sing. You have the vocabulary of a six year old. You love to play doctor and school. You are terrified of tubing behind the boat and hand dryers in public restrooms. You beg me to rub your back every night before bed. You love cuddling and Maisy books. You could live on cherry tomatoes and cheese sticks.

You are charming and energetic, fun and a little crazy. You make our lives happier, wilder and fuller. Each morning when you call my name, I am so happy to come in and see your sweet face again.

Happy 2.5, peanut!

Love you,

Momma

Mila Has an Extra Tooth and Tyson Has a Stronger Arm

2014-08-21T05:09:00.002-07:00

Last Thursday, we were told that Mila has an extra tooth and Tyson has a stronger arm. I'm slightly worried we need to lay off the use of pesticides in our garden. Or reduce the chemicals I use to clean the bathtub.

In the morning, we took both kids to the dentist. It was Mila's first trip to the actual dentist chair. Our attempt last winter resulted in lots of screaming and a dentist opinion that she had an extra tooth. She wouldn't confirm her suspicions until we could get x-rays, but did manage to count 9 teeth in a mouth that was only supposed to have 8. I'm not sure we needed an x-ray to confirm that math, but I'm also not a dentist.

After much bribery (including three bouncy balls, a Belle toothbrush, a pink chicken and a promise for ice cream), we obtained the conclusive proof via x-ray-girlfriend has an extra tooth.

Upon further thought, the extra tooth could also be attributed to the liberal amounts of steroid creams I was prescribed to slather on her face repeatedly for two years due to eczema.

We're told the extra baby tooth could be nothing at all. Or it could mean there are also extra adult teeth (yes, plural). Or it could also mean she's missing adult teeth (again with the plural). So really, they have no clue.

At this point, we're in a holding pattern until we can get additional x-rays showing her adult teeth. Or, until the adult teeth come in and we hire a mathematician (but apparently not the dentist) to add up what's in there vs. what should be in there.

Until then, we have this extra toothy grin to admire.

Thursday afternoon, after 17 days in a cast, we took Tyson to the doctor to get it cut off (the cast-not the arm). According to the doctor, x-rays taken after the cast was removed showed a stronger and harder bone at the fracture site. His doctor said this was pretty common in kid fractures, but Tyson did spend an awful lot of time picking vegetables while in his cast and Daddy did spray an awful lot of pesticides on the Asian beetles invading our garden.

I'm happy (and slightly terrified) to report that Tyson is already busy using his new and improved elbow in ways that could easily lead to a second fracture. So, don't be surprised if one day he's the strongest kid ever.

Summer School is Over

2014-08-19T12:37:00.003-07:00

Summer school ended last week. Coincidentally, so did my quiet Wednesday mornings, my Wednesday afternoons at the pool and the occasional beer with my Wednesday lunch. I think I'll miss summer school more than they will.

Oh who am I kidding? I know I'll miss it more than they will.

That's not to say that Tyson didn't love running wild for 6 hours each week with his friend Drew. Or that Mila didn't like playing my little pony with her friend Leah every Wednesday. I know Tyson loved going to the Monkey House and Chuck E Cheese and seeing the Wizard of Oz play. Mila loved their playground and the gym. Tyson still talks about the puzzles they had there and Mila brought home the most amazing paintings that still adorn our walls.

Oh, yes, despite the crying fits Mila displayed at every.single.dropoff. they both LOVED summer school and they'll both miss it.

But, I'll miss it more.

Summer Fun

2014-08-04T13:00:00.001-07:00

For me, the fear of seemingly endless snowfall and dread of long months inside watching Frozen on repeat set in shortly after the Fourth of July fireworks stopped. Coincidentally, this was also around the same time that both kids decided to boycott naps.

Pray for us.

While we are very busy preparing for our impending doom and stockpiling our winter beer collection, we have also managed to cram quite a bit of fun into the three short months God grants us with above zero temps.

Fourth of July was spent at Nanny and Papa's cabin. Tyson learned how to paddle board and even took Lola for a ride which basically means he can pick up more chicks than Brad Pitt if he wanted to.

I'm keeping him away from Lake Calhoun until he's at least twenty.

Mila got stung twice on the face by a mosquito and woke up looking like this:

She was fine after a few doses of Benadryl, but I'm saving this picture to show all of her future boyfriends.

We also spent time tubing, swimming, fishing, and just generally enjoying the fact there wasn't ice on the lake.

We've taken the kids to hit balls a few times. They're basically the next Michelle Wie and Phil Mickelson. Which is basically another way of saying they haven't inherited any of their golfing skills from Mommy.

We went on a vacation to Wisconsin Dells with our neighbors. If you enjoy calm and patient children quietly behaving this vacation would be similar to your hell.

To be fair, parenting in general would be hell if you enjoy calm and patient children quietly behaving. Oddly enough our Wisconsin Dells trip is always my favorite part of summer. I guess my kids have broken me in.

We've made several trips to the Minnesota Zoo and gotten way more back than what we invested in our membership.

For example, Dan rode this camel on our anniversary. I'm fairly certain this also counts as him getting humped on our anniversary. Win/Win.

We've filled the rest of our time with water tables, long walks, puppet wagons and parks.

While I'll never be fully prepared to say goodbye to Summer and hello to shoveling, I feel pretty satisfied in knowing we have drank every last bit of sun and fun out of the season.

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Breaks an Arm

2014-07-25T12:11:00.004-07:00

Early this spring, Tyson achieved a pretty important milestone for a 4 year old; he learned how to cross the monkey bars.The accomplishment didn't come easy for his spindly little arms. It took weeks of practice and hundreds of attempts with my arms cradled underneath him. He yelled at me that he could do it himself. He yelled at me to watch him try again. He fell and I caught him. Lots.

And then one day, I watched as his tiny biceps carried him across the 8 rungs to the other side successfully.

The monkey bars quickly became a favorite at the park. So much so that I let my guard down when he would go on them. I quit running underneath him with my arms out. I quit worrying about him falling.

Last week, at our tiny neighborhood park, I sat on the bench and helped Mila fix her shoe. I glanced up to see Tyson on the monkey bars-two rungs in. He started to struggle, slipped and lost his grip. He fell face first into the mulch.

It happened so fast.

There were tears. And whimpering. I wiped the mulch off of his face and out of his mouth as he told me he hurt his arm. He was able to move it without limitation and there were no external injuries visible, but he continued to whimper. Tyson doesn't whimper. I had a sinking feeling.

After a quick trip to urgent care (with a certain 2 year old currently obsessed with Doc Mcstuffins who would not stop yelling, "TIME FOR YOUR CHECKUP!"), we confirmed what I had feared- he had broken his elbow.

Because I let my guard down.

For the next 3 weeks of summer, Tyson will miss out on swimming with his friends. He'll miss out on splash pads and sprinklers and the hot tub. He'll miss his last week of hockey practice and probably won't be able to sign up for T-ball. He won't be able to ride his bike or his scooter with his friends. He can't tube at the cabin or jump off the boat.

That's a lot of Mommy guilt to swallow. I might need a glass of wine (or two) to wash it down.

I could wallow in the Mommy guilt (and wine!), but I've decided to focus on the positive. For the next 3 weeks of summer, Tyson will also learn how to be resilient, patient, and tough. He'll learn how to rely on others when he needs to. He'll learn to problem solve and think outside of the box. He'll learn new ways of doing old things. He'll learn how to ask for help.

He's a fast study. Also, clearly he will never learn to be careful.