Confused

Griffin gets some things confused.

One hair cuts and doctors visits. They both have suckers. Therefore, they are the same?

The post office and the hospital. Our dr office is across the street from the hospital and he remembers everything about visiting me there. Including the color of the buttons he pushed on my bed. He calls it the post office. Can't follow that one?

Lately, he calls me "meme." Not in the drugged out RENT kind of way. I don't think. He had been screaming meme for a while when throwing fits and I kept telling him to use his words and I didn't know what that meant... Until I realized that its me. 

They call me. They call me. Me. Meeeeee

Mom guilt.

It’s something fierce right now.  I can’t seem to beat it.  I’m not sure I ever will.  I think mostly it stems from my very verbal three year old who doesn’t want me to leave him at bed times.  Who I feel guilty when I have to say, “I can’t right now.”  Or “It’s time for bed. Mama, has to go.”

I come home in the afternoons.  Disrobe in the laundry room.  Put the dogs out.  Get G to remove his shoes.  Try to get him moving upstairs to his room.  Get M out of the car seat.  Read a book.  Hold a hand.  Nurse a baby.  Lock G in his room.  Go rock M and put him down.  Listen to G crying for me.  “HOLD MY HAND.  Mama, please come back.” Wondering if I’ll ever get quality time with either of them.  Wonder if M thinks all I do for him is feed him and lay him down.  Wonder if G wishes he was still an only child.  Realize that’s probably not the case as the maybe 2x he and I have done something he’s pretty concerned that Meyer isn’t with us.  Wondering if some of his fits are tied to his feeling neglected.  Can’t help but wonder what I’m doing to his psyche.

This morning when I asked him what he dreamed about last night  and he said, “I was crying really loud and you didn’t come for me.  You went to Meyer.”

Break my heart.  Then I wonder why I don’t stay longer at bed time.  What is the harm in laying with him until he falls asleep?  Some day he won’t want this.  The books say I should never do this.  I can’t take those statements, though.  They kill me.

In the morning I get one of them up.  I now shower at night because I can’t seem to find time in the morning.  Griffin now cries that he doesn’t want to go to school.  He wants to stay.  I know he has fun there.  I can’t help but wonder  if I stayed home we would be these 3’s.  We could do fun things.  I could grocery shop.  I could get laundry done.  I would be more “there.”  I would say “yes” more to requests.

Right now my mom guilt is winning.  And it’s a pretty healthy victory for her.

vacation.

I need one.  So I'm semi planning one.  To seattle.  Or Portland.  TBD on cheaper flights.  So far I've found an awesome flight from ATX to Seattle that's DIRECT.  HOLLA!

But, where do you stay once you are there?  I desire somewhere that we can walk/take public transportation if needed.  That's useful in other states, right?  (not in the south.)  What do you see?  Where do you eat?  What are the non touristy places to be?  What are the touristy places?  Who's going to watch these pesky kids here?

What is the weather in October?  TELL ME I NEED JACKETS.  Oct. 20's-ish.  Cold?  Too cold?  Rainy?

Lunchroom Convo

As noted... I hear some ridiculous things at work.  I think I've zoned out so I hear less now than I used to... and people aren't as invasive when you aren't pregnant, apparently.  I also am choosing to pump on the floor inside an unused office because even though it has a lot of windows it also has a lock on the door.  Our HR person is astounded that I would choose to sit on the floor behind a desk instead of in the general supply closet with a rolling door and no lock.  Whatever. 

So I wa sin the kitchen earlier this week and heard this convo between two colleagues--one has celiacs (so she says) and the other is obsessed with eating healthfully.  Both are skinny bitches.  (term of endearment)

Girl one--I mean, I think that I just don't weigh very much because I started not drinking soda in high school.  Then I cut out fast food.  Then I cut out x.  Then I quit eating very much. 

Girl two-Yah, I mean, I just have a hard time gaining weight.  I'll do ok if I'm super working out, but as soon as I stop it all disappears.

Girl one--I KNOW.  I mean, I'll work out and finally have a booty and the next day it's gone.  I typically only eat 45% of what is on my plate. 

It's just so hard to be skinny.

(and have an eating disorder.)

Judgement.  I judged.  And continued to make my oatmeal.  And ate 100% of it.

G is Three.

My baby is three.  THREE.  That is big kid stuff.  I know this because I looked back at his pictures from last year when he turned 2 and he was such a baby.  My baby.  My first baby.  The baby who was born on July 22, 2010.  who weighed 6.11 lbs.  Who is now 31 lbs and verbal beyond belief.  Um, lets slow that down.

My Griffin is funny.  He's sweet.  He is creative.  Most importantly, he is compassionate.  Sweet.  Generous.  Has a massive temper at bed time.  Is starting to talk back.  Is strong willed.  Loves his family.  Pretend talks on the phone.  LOVE love LOVES trains.  Loves to be busy.  Loves for his daddy to swing him.  does NOT love swimming lessons.  Is the best big brother.  Likes to play in our bed and "hide" in the pillows.  is a climber.  a talker.  starts every sentence with "mommy."  Super observant.  He can wear me down and build me up all at once.  Doesn't yet realize that if he wants to snuggle at bed time I'll probably never leave.  Loves to have his toe nails painted.  his favorite color is purple.  He likes to watch thomas.  He likes corn on the cob.  his favorite food is yogurt.  He knows his shapes, can count, knows all of his letters, has memorized a ton of books and corrects us if we get them long.  Loves a book that is awful and long and told me he "likes it because it's the longest."  When I tell him I love him more than anything in the world, he tells me "I love YOU anything in the world."  and he leaves out the "more."  It isn't essential.  I love it.  He can seem so big and so little all at once.  

I wouldn't trade him for anything.  He is my love bug.  My Pookie Poo.  My G$.  My ever loving world.  If I didn't have to lock him in his room at nap and bed times I'd keep him this age forever.

Now... a shiz ton of pictures.  

my boy, party favors, and some hand in the pocket.

baby brudder

waiting.

train food. cupcakes.  hand sanitizer.

Mrs. Frances.  The light of the party.

Brookie Claire.

neenee.  ell.  bc.

observing the bounce house set up.

inside the bounce house.

party favors of train hats and whistles.  I wish I had a hearing aid I could turn off.

glam.  kell kell.  meyer and g$

G and Tabo (his great grandmother.)

fuzzy puzzle.

His BEST Mr. T impersonation.

Poppy, ell and g

G, the pants less wonder.  Not his favorite article of clothing.

Elton John

the big boy bike

On birthdays, cupcakes become breakfast muffins.  We eat icing for breakfast at 6:45.

Dis cake is just for me.

happy bday, buddy.

pretty excited.

all before 7 am.

evening icing.

I love you.  lots.  From your head to your toes.  To the moon and back.  XOXO, mama

The Terrible Two's?

Maybe they waited until 4 days before your birthday to show up?  Or maybe these are the tenacious three's?  And you're just really advanced?

But, Griffin, cut me a stinkin' break.  The refusing to go to bed.  The figuring out how to remove a baby door knob.  The screaming.  Crying.  Poopy, potty, tissue.  SCREAMING.  Shaking the baby gate (and probably your fists.)  The throwing shiz against your door.  Has.  Got.  To.  Stop.

I am not my best mommy when these things happen.  In fact, I have no idea what to do.  Or the best way to react.  I end up losing patience.  Then I feel bad.  Then I lose patience again because YOU ARE STILL EFFING SCREAMING OUTSIDE OF YOUR BROTHERS ROOM.  Or you wake up before everyone and start screaming again.

W.  t.  f.

So we are going to try a reward chart.  Which I think will work for possibly 2 days.  Which will be enough to let you make it to your third birthday. 

So... way to close out the year, buddy.  You're cute and 95% sweet.  5% demon. 

XOXO.

Eerrr day I'm hus-hus-hustlin'

This is what it feels like. It also feels like maybe I should be on some ADD meds so that my brain can continue to function on a somewhat normal level. Things I cannot seem to keep track of—groceries. Feeding my toddler healthy snacks. Work. New job responsibilities. Finishing up camp in my mind and moving on to next year. Birthday parties. Swimming lessons. Children who wake up at 6 AM even though their alarm clock does not turn green until 7. Single parenting. Not running errands until children are asleep. Birthday presents. Hosting people at my house this weekend. Cleaning. Dog grooming. The fact that my “special events” I’ve done with my toddler in the last 4 months include… grocery shopping. Big times with mom, right?

First. World. Problems.

My head is tired. I’m not cut out to be a high powered CEO. I think I'm more of a below management barely getting by kinda person.  The one who lays low.  Doesn't make a fuss.

I’m whiney. And tired. And need like 3 days to get my life in order. Semi-order. Maybe even shower and fix my hair.

Who in their right mind has a party at 10 am on a Saturday? With a husband who is gone the entire morning prior to that? Was out of the country prior to that? Is taking her kid to swimming lessons in the evenings the week of? WHO? Probably someone who had a baby in the end of July in Texas.

Thinking mimosa’s may be necessary for this event. Classy?

He'll be three in ONE week.

Today G went for his 3 year well child visit.  The one that I had to interrupt his nap for.  Therefore, he was... pleasant?  He was fixated.  On a sucker.

He is a happy healthy almost 3 year old.  He weighs 31.5 lbs. and is 37.5 inches.  He invited the dr. to his birthday party.  He held his brothers hand when he got his 4 month shots.  He also went to his first swimming lesson and loved it.  He exhausted me this afternoon.  I considered donating him once.  But then, how could I ever part with this face?  And giving me kisses on my cheeks and saying, "those kisses are mine, mama."  I can't.  I'll keep him.  He's pretty much perfection.