Tuesday, March 17, 2015

my love affair with Austin

This morning I was making my way downtown with not a lot of sleep in me.  I was feeling unmotivated and it was dark.  Then I saw them.  My people.  I mean, not the people I was supposedly meeting, but the running people.  It was 6:30 and they were clad in their reflective gear going across a bridge.  Running as a group.  I can only assume they are discussing their lives, their families, their hopes, their dreams, their chaffing.

I love this city.  I wasn't sure when we moved here almost 8 years ago that I would.  Then I joined team in training and made friends.  GOOD friends.  Friends who you tell your sister is pregnant before she tells her friends.  Friends who count on you to show up at 5:45 am.  Friends who count on you to find some open place for them to go to a bathroom on a 20 mile run because she sat down on the road and couldn't go any further.  Pretty wonderful.

So I felt all nostalgic.  I felt excited.  and I felt moved.

Thanks, Austin.  For showing off with your amazing weather.  Your packs of runners.  And your coffee.

Mortified Mom. Party of one. Or a million.

I have been embarrassed by my kids before.  You know, like that one time that Griffin told our neighbor that because of her big nipples she wouldn't fall down the storm drain like kids would.  Yah, that was embarrassing.  I haven't had that middle of the grocery store mortifying moment, though.

It happened.  Yesterday.  Worst.  I wondered how I was ever allowed to have a child, much less three.  It was over something trivial.  I was already sweating from having Oliver strapped to me and pushing the car cart through the grocery store.  SCREAMING.  ALL OUT SCREAMING.  Telling me I'm mean.  Screaming.  crawling out of the cart.  Terrible.  I started sweating more.  Meyer started crying because Griffin was crying.  Oliver started crying because we were hot and he was hungry.  And I tried to decide if I could abandon cart and run.  I couldn't though.  I'm single parenting and we already had the groceries in the cart and there is NO WAY IN HELL I'm returning for at least three weeks because there is no way anyone will forget this scene.  Everyone was looking.  Staring.  Gaping.

Thankfully, someone came to my rescue.  I can only imagine that she is also a mom or a teacher of children with ODD.  She rescued me.  Twice.  Maybe three times.  She loaded all of my items onto the belt.  She blocked my child from trying to run.  She helped me in the parking lot.  I gave her flowers.  Literally, I did.  I should have given her all of my groceries and probably one of my well behaved children.

So other moms--You can save someones life.  Probably her sanity.  Make her forever indebted to you.  Don't look at other kids throwing fits and think, "OMG my kids will never act like that."  It's possible that you could be wrong.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Griffin is 4.5

Four and a half.  We have been talking about being four and a half for MONTHS.  You are so excited to be four and a half.  And that is worth celebrating to me.  So we made a cake.  A 1/2 cake to be exact.  We also sang half of the happy birthday song.  You had a pretty great day.  And I love that you love a celebration.  You are a smart smart boy.  You are kind.  Energetic.  You hate sleeping.  You have a lot of emotions that you have a hard time controlling.  You feel deeply.  I love you.  I love having conversations with you.  You remember EVERYTHING.  You also know everything.  You are competitive and a sore loser.  You are active.  You are handsome.  You love making paper airplanes.  You have moved from playing trains to only building train tracks that include legos.  YOU LOVE LEGOS.  A lot.  And coloring.  And I love you.  More than anything in the world.  My first baby.  The reason I'm a mama.  1/2 of the reasons I wake up in the night.  You never want to be alone.  Sometimes I can't wait for you to go to bed because you have spoken every word that has ever gone into your brain all day.  Then you go to bed and I need you.  I love you.

Life with three

Life with three kids is crazy.  With 2 kids I managed to keep our house all clean and mostly organized and did things like arts and crafts with my kids.  And I went to work.  Um, what?  Right now, post retirement, I feel like I sit never, clean never, do arts projects infrequently.  I feel like no one gets any attention.  I love all of you.  I can't wait on bed time.  When it gets to bed time I ache for you and lament everything I've done wrong that day and how I didn't hold you enough.  All of you.

Our house is messy.  We have piles of laundry which I swore I wouldn't have.  I stay until you are asleep.  I feed you quickly.  I let you get by with a lot of things.  Sometimes you learn how to sneak into our bed and I let you.  You are each growing and I hate it and I love it because I get to see the little people you are becoming.

I wonder if you could ever know the love I have for you.  Sometimes I wonder if you have lost your minds because you are screaming.  Sometimes I wonder if the world will learn to cherish you like I do.  Mostly, I know that the world won't and I hate to share you with the world.  I keep thinking that i need a night away or a full night of sleep, but when I think about leaving you I get sad.

I have great aspirations of making miracles for you, but right now, I feel like I'm failing at that.  But I love you.  a lot.  Even when you lose your minds and I know mine is already gone.

Don't change.  Keep changing.  Never settle for less than miracles.


Little Mey Mey.  Oh my little Mey Mey.  This is what we call you and what you call yourself.  "I too" or "DATS MEY MEY."  "I want Mey mey."  "I mey mey" are uttered a million times a day.  You are kind of adorable.  And a mess.  And you get by with it because you are adorable.  You laugh.  Lots.  You make hilarious faces.  You are still a biter.  You get mad and over it quickly.  You love to share.  You are typically a great eater.  Except when you don't eat.  Nightly, you run through the house naked before your bath saying, "DEADY, set, DOoooooooo."  You reference a lot of things by their sounds.  The Count, from Sesame Street is "Ah, Ah, Ah."  Curious George is "ooh ooh."  Cookie Monster is cookie eating sounds.  Makes me laugh.  You get mad at people or they hurt your feelings and you whine and say, "bubba.  Or DADDY."  You are a snuggle bug.  You love to be held.  YOu say "up up" a million times a second.  You want to wear shoes 24-7.  You also want me to wear shoes.  You do things you aren't supposed to and when you get in trouble you just answer with a "sorry.  Sorry."  You are my best sleeper which means I love you.  A lot.  Mostly, I love everything about that baby belly of yours and hope that you never ever grow up.  Yuu are in my very favorite stage and I hope that you never change.

Oliver Graham Black--4 months old

How did you turn into a 4 month old?  You are cute.  You laugh when I take off your clothes--what a boy.  You laugh when I tickle you.  You study us before you decide to smile.  You do not get bathed often enough.  You don't spit up like Meyer.  You sleep a tiny bit better than Griffin.  I cut out dairy for you for TWO WEEKS to see if it would help your reflux.  It didn't.  SCORE ONE FOR ME.  I also lost zero lbs during that two weeks.  Meaning, clearly, my body NEEDS dairy.  OH wait, this is about you.  You track us.  You take a ton of cat naps a day.  Not sure how to break you of that.  You have slept one night in your own room in your own crib.  This means you will quickly be kicked out of our bathroom.  Once you do it once... well... there ya go.  Except now.  because you are in our bathroom.  because you have a cough.  And a whole floor away is just too far.  I hold you a lot.  I also feel like I lay you down a lot.  I hate that.  I worry you will feel unloved.  Except that you get a lot of physical love from your brothers.  Who love you, physically, a lot.  Griffin calls you his favorite brother.  Meyer loves to call you "baby" and "pat" you and poke out your eyes.  You can roll from your tummy to your back... when you remember that you can do that.   have gone through your first Christmas.  Your first new years.  YOu are starting to grab for toys.  You haven't yet spoken your first word, but I'm sure baby, you are going to go far.
Your stats.

You are 12 lbs and 6 oz.  You are in the 5% for weight.  You are 23 inches and in the 1st % in height.  And a big ol 15% for your noggin at 40.5 inches.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

The stay at home mom yoga pant sitch explained.

There she is... you judge her in her black yoga pants.  Life of luxury, really.  The stay at home mom.  I get it.  There are the ones who have the personal trainer, the nanny, the house cleaner, the lunches, the ones who go to the bathroom all alone.  I think they are probably few and far between, so the rest of us fall somewhere between there.  Recently I had a friend judge the SAHM crew when she, herself was at lunch mid-day.

1.  The ultimate--she worked out that morning and hasn't yet had time to shower and is therefore still in workout gear.  She is also conserving laundry so will just wear the same thing until that shower happens.

2.  The hopeful-she HOPES to workout and so is putting on her workout gear in hopes she will be motivated or have 5 minutes.  Granted, she may use those 5 minutes to poop.

3.  The work out clothes are made of elastic/spandex... which gives you extra time to pull up your pants really quickly when all of a sudden the rest of the house gets quiet or you hear a big crash and your 2 year old say, "uh-oh."  Who has time for buttons?

4.  Nothing fits after having these babies.  Black is slimming.  Black hides grubby finger prints.  Black spandex is mostly wipeable--even spit up.

5.  There hasn't been time to shower in the last few days so she appears to have sweaty work out hair, but realistically, it's just grease.  Go with it.  She deserves that starbucks drink.

6.  She is meeting her friends for lunch, because if she doesn't have a normal conversation soon she may forget that she actually knows how to talk, or hear about the world, or for someone else to know she exists.  So yes, it's a nice place to meet her friends, it may be quiet, she may be wearing yoga pants and jewelry because, well, this is as fancy as she is going to get for the next 6 months--might as well show off that stuff that you used to wear on all those nights out.  Bonus--no small child with you to casually yank on your earring and say "EAAWWING!"  Or pull on, and break, that necklace.

7.  Her mind is tired.  She actually forgot that she owns clothes are not made of elastic.  Someone called last minute and she had to get out of the house so she said, "yep, this looks decent enough--let me put on some jewelry in hopes that I'm both noticed and go unnoticed."

So there you have it.  The real life of the SAHM.  Don't judge--too much.  She appreciates you for what you do, so lets not judge her for what she does... or doesn't do... like laundry.  or wearing real pants.  SUCKAS