My kids.

I'm sorry I've abandoned the blog.  Not for the readers, but for myself.  I can't remember all of my stories and I want to hold on to them.  My kids are amazing and adorable and I'd keep them these ages forever... well, if Oliver would stop eating leaves.  And I've been meaning to add pictures to this for a LONG time.  I'm behind.  Here is my post.  Without pictures.  For now.

Griffin--You are five.  you are MOUTHY.  You are amazing and generous and kind and quick witted.  You have a fuse.  You throw some major fits.  You say the most honest and sweetest things.  You love talking with people.  I love this about you and it terrifies me about you.  You trust all people.  You are smart.  You love legos and hot wheels.  Lots.  You cannot wait to start kindergarten.  I'm both ready to have you start and very very very much want to keep you home.  I'm a public school supporter.  I'm not a bully supporter and I love my baby just the way he is.  I know he is going to lose some of his fancy in going to school.

Meyer--We repeat about five million times a day "he is so cute."  The things you say are adorable.  You are a snuggler.  You are tiny.  You think you are five.  You say, "I'm wittle.  When I bigger I gonna be 5."  Your voice patterns and your little voice are precious.  Your little legs try desperately to keep up with your brother.  You called Griffin "bubba" from the time you could talk.  I guess you decided you are big because you refuse to call him that, now.  You call him "fiffin."  You call Oliver "ollie-ber."  You get so excited about things.  I decided to potty train you and decided you are part camel.  You have had 2 accidents and you basically have held it.  Impressive.  I'm enjoying getting to spend more time with you when G is at school.  You love to sit in my lap.  You want to be closer than Oliver.  You can get mad and scream.  You get quickly over it.  You get that from your dad.  You love the minions and mater.  (Nader)  You like to say, "I two."  "Where ARE me?" (when you are hiding.)

Oliver--everyday you learn more things.  YOu are into dancing and just now... climbing.  You can find every leaf that has ever been tracked into the house.  You eat them.  You are a great eater for the most part.  You show zero interest in weaning.  I love your smile and your laugh.  You are patient.  You have started to play in your bed when it's nap time.  It takes you almost an hour of crawling around and pulling up before you decide you are ready for bed.  You still wake up once a night to nurse.  You love your brothers.  You dance.  You clap your hands.  When I put you to bed and sing to you, you "sing" with me.  When I kiss you all over your face you have started smacking your lips and kissing me back.

I love these boys in a fierce way.  I get tired and short with them and at the end of the day I feel guilty for not appreciating all of the time I have with them.  I miss them when they sleep.  I want them to stay 5, 2 and almost 1.  I can't wait for the people they are becoming.  It's a mixed bag, this mom thing I have going.  I hope to do it right, or at least as best as I can.

I couldn't love you more.

Oliver. You are turning ONE.

Oh Oliver.  Ah-ber.  Ollie-bear.  OG.  All of the other names we call you.  When I found out I was pregnant with you, the day after my last (EVER) marathon, I was caught so off guard.  I could not be more scared or more thrilled.  I always wanted three kids.  I never thought it would be three boys.  When I found out that Meyer was a boy, I was sad.  I "knew" it was my last and was disappointed to not have a girl.  With you, this little surprise baby, I was just so thrilled to have you.  To have you be healthy.  To have you be in existence.  I knew your name, much like your brothers.  As soon as I looked at names, I knew what you would be called.

When they referenced how I could, possibly, have placenta previa I remembered they said that with G and it was no big deal.  You, however, turned out to be quite the big deal.  Bed rests.  Bleeds.  Emergency C sections.  Ambulance Rides.  Everything I could never want.  Not being able to be active.  Not being able to be with the big kids.  Not being able to hold you for 9 months.  (10, lets be honest.)  That was the scariest time of my life.

I knew normal births.  I knew an epidural.  I knew a natural birth.  I knew nothing of a C-section (other than googles).  What I knew less about was having a baby and having that baby whisked away to the NICU and then not being able to hold him.  Not being able to have him in my room.  Not being able to go home with him.  Those things were the worst.  I was in a hospital room alone.  I worried about you.  All day.  All night.  Would you come home?  When?  How?  How would we make it.

We spent a, now seemingly short, amount of 3.5 weeks with you there.  I tell people it is the best place you never want to be.  I want to be a nurse because of you.  Because of what people can do for others.  I spent 3.5 weeks being mommy to all and none... but you can read all of that story from some time ago.  Lets talk about who you are becoming.

Oliver, I hoped for you.  I prayed for you.  You are amazing.  You are patient.  You laugh.  You look for your brothers.  Everywhere.  You prefer for them to swing you in a swing.  You eat meals.  Often more than them.  Probably because you have some catching up to do.  You army crawl just like Griffin.  You pull up on everything.   You prefer the unsafe stairs and the not bolted in book shelves.You have the best smile.  The best belly laugh.  the most red hair of all the kids.  You are the apple of your brothers eyes.  You are bathed less, scheduled less and less helicoptered.  You wave.  you say mama.  Dada.  Bubba.  more.  hi.  have chunky legs.  Beautiful eyes.  Big ol teeth like your mama.

You are everything.  You came into this world unprepared for and unprepared.  You grew.  You learned how to breathe.  You learned how to regulate your body temp.  You taught us how to love and leave a baby in a tiny giraffe.  You taught me to advocate for what I wanted.  You taught me to be the best defender.  You taught me to slow down.  To imagine the world.  To be at peace in a hectic life.  You complete our house--no, literally, we have zero more bedrooms now.  We love you.  To the moon and back.

love.

I was sitting rocking Oliver tonight contemplating how much I love my babies.  I was singing old hymns.  Those are bed time songs, no?  Well, they are to me.  And You are my Sunshine.  In my memory my grandfather is singing it to me and so I sing it as my first song of the night to every child.  I love that Griffin gets it wrong and sings, "you make me happier."  I love that.  Sometimes I sing it that way just because I don't want him to change it.  I like to laugh about and write all of the things that make me giggle, annoyed, frustrated in my mommy world.  I couldn't love them more.  I hope I say that enough.  I don't think you can say that enough, though.

Tonight I was reminded of how much I'm loved.  Griffin told me he loves me more than I love him.  He loves me to infinity.  Katchillions come before infinities and he loves me more than that.  He said that.

I like to tell my boys how much I love them and why.  I make sure to start with that I love them because they are kind.  It usually is in some order of "I love you because you are kind.  And funny.  and smart.  And thoughtful.  and handsome."  Meyer told me, "I wuv you.  Is kind."  I can't.  It's too much.  It is more than I could hope for.  He also told me that "Mama pretty."  Hello, favorite child.  Other than the other 2.

Oliver lights up when he sees me.  He snuggles up in my neck.  He is precious and sweet and lovely and adorable and I'm sure he will be very kind.  He has 2 great examples.

I love them.  More than they could ever know.  To the moon and back.  From their head to their tippy tippy toes and everywhere in between.  More than there are stars in the sky.

And I hope they never change.

Oliver is 8 months old. He's almost one. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE??

Where oh where are my other posts about this amazing baby?  Mostly, I appear to suck at updating.  Three kids man.  Time suck.  THis isn't to say that I don't have approximately ONE MILLION pictures of each child.  I do.  They just seem to not make it to the internets.

You turned 8 months on mother's day.  You roll with the punches.  You are happy.  you SIT.  Not reliably, but you do.  You started at 7 months so we can claim that.  You smile.  you laugh.  YOU LOVE MOM.  A lot.  I write this because you may not admire me as much one day.  If I walk by you and don't pick you up.  You cry.  You refuse a bottle.  You refuse a cup.  You hate pureed food.  You clearly know that you are too big for that.  This weekend you chowed down on guacamole and refried beans.  That's your Texas showing.

I can't find our 6-9 month clothes so you are shoved in some 3-6 monthers and some bigger.  You are too big for some and too small for others.  You are 6 months gestational age.  You are probably more advanced than a 6 month old.  Maybe? Surprisingly, I have now had 3 babies and I can't remember the important milestones.   I keep looking at Griffin and our friends that are a few months older than him that are ALL going to kindergarten in August and think of how much happens in that first few years.  How much changes.  How a baby who is 4 months old is so different from a newborn, but when they are 4 and 5 there are not any differences.

He is such a dream.  He is more than I could have ever imagined he could be.  We spent so long being so worried that it seemed like he would never arrive or would never leave the NICU.  Look at you.  THRIVING.  You listened to my prayers.  You are a miracle.

You don't love sitting.  You love standing.  You are handsy.  You grab.  You love puffs and mum mums.  You love your brothers.  When we walk down the stairs and Meyer REFUSES to let me help him, you laugh and laugh.  It takes like 15 minutes.  Not sure how you think it's that funny.

You weigh about 17 lbs.  I carry you and hold you all of the time.  You could not be more adored.  By everyone.

I love you.  Can't live without you.  I need you.  I miss you when you sleep.

Meyer Boo is TWO

He may tell you he is two or he may tell you he is 4.  Whatever mood strikes, I suppose.  He also cannot show you two on his fingers, but shows some sort of gang sigh, I'm sure.

He is in LOVE with his bobby--his paci.  We have limited bobby to his bed or car.  Then, when he turned two, just to the bed.  I'm weak though.  He is so darn cute with it.  He actually napped at a friends house today and so I packed it and he found it and it was like someone relapsing.  He was so stinking happy.

Speaking of happy.  This guy is generally HAPPY.  Like when he woke up this morning and I went in and he threw his arms up in the air and said, "MOMMY!  I pootsthed."  Because he has a lisp and can't say poop.  And pootsthed is cute.  He also loves "bock bocks."  which are his flip flops.  Constant statements, "Mey Mey's bock bocks.  Mommy's bock bocks.  TWO BOCK BOCKS."  He has started saying Griffin instead of Bubba sometimes.  He has started saying everything and anything all of the time.  Non stop.  He loves mommy.  You are so so snuggly.  You love to sit in someone's lap.  You refer to a lot of things by their sound.  ooh ooh is Monkey.  You love ooh ooh (curious george.)  You notice things.  Way more things than we give you credit for.  Your laugh is hilarious.  You have a million expressions.  Seeing you be sad is terribly sad.  Your face melts.  You know some letters.  Your favorites are O, M, R, S, and Y.  Why?  I have no idea.  You started noticing them all over.  I look back at your newborn pictures and feel like we had to rush through your babyhood because another baby came.  You are still such a baby.  You LOVE singing and dancing.  You like to get a guitar and say I sing the "wee why dong."  (super why song) and close your eyes and groove.  You are also known to sing "let it doe." (let it go).  You also want to do everything your brother does.  You get upset when you can't.  You want to run.  I want to kiss your cheeks all of the time.  Which is fine by you.

I hope you are always so happy.  I hope you always enjoy a good snuggle.  I hope that you continue to want your mommy, fight hard for yourself, love your brothers unconditionally, and always enjoy a good snack.

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.