The Past Six Months

Dear Jude,
       Today you are six months old! That might not seem like a big deal, what's six months? Well, because babies change so quickly we like to think about how long you've been alive first in days, then eventually that gets tiresome to keep up with so we switch to weeks, and then by about 15 or 16 weeks we switch to months. Every single day, week, and month holds it's own milestones. You are SUCH a different baby than you were six months ago!

So here is a little list of what you are like now.

- You have A LOT of energy, you are always talking and moving.

- You love getting out of the house and going new places, especially if you get to see a lot of interesting people.

- Patterned fabric is interesting to you and you like to watch it move, like curtains or my skirts

- You are absolutely desparate to start crawling! You get up on your hands and knees and rock back and forth, and then shoot forward as far as you can go. Somehow you still end up going backwards.

- You like to nurse, perhaps even love to nurse, but only in the middle of the night. During the day you prefer bottles. Those nighttime feedings are a very sweet time for us :)

- You prefer drinking your bottles in a quiet, dark place. You rarely drink much while we're in public, there's way too much to see!

- You are very strong, hold your weight well, can sit up (if I get you there, you can't quite get yourself into that position yet), love your johnny-jump-up, and you are heavy. You're probably not heavier than the average baby, but your favorite place to be is in my arms or in a baby carrier so I feel your weight all day long!

- You have two purple pacifiers that you must have to go to sleep. They were Evangeline's, she broke them in for you :) I keep praying that we don't lose them.

- You absolutely adore your sisters. When they're around you look at their faces and give them the cutest, most flirtatious smiles (even if they're not looking at you).

- Your favorite place to be, hands down, is in your daddy's arms. You love him so much and are almost always calm and content when he's carrying you. You watch him whenever he's around, and smile at him constantly. I might be the teensiest bit jealous :)

     After having twins the first time around I was confused as to how anyone could actually enjoy the baby stage, since for us it was endless amounts of work and very little sleep. Everything we did took planning and was a full-scale production! But with you, I am loving every minute. Well, not every minute, but you know what I mean :) I just carry you around, share my day with you, watch you grow, watch you get to know your sisters, your dog, your daddy, and your world. There are fussy times (WHEN ARE YOUR TEETH FINALLY GOING TO COME IN???), but we are all just enjoying you so much. These past six months have taught me so much! But the most important thing that I've learned is to slow down. You are (hopefully, fingers crossed) my last baby. So if the only thing I get done all day is play "baby tigers" with your sisters and hold you in my lap, that's ok. If I spend twenty minutes just rocking you in the chair and smelling your sweet baby smell (just wait, you non-parents. you will do this), then I haven't lost time that I could have been doing something else- I've gained a moment that we both, in our own ways, can cherish.

You are very loved, sweet boy. By all of us.
We value you.
We think that you are incredibly important.
We respect you.
We rejoice over you.
We delight in you.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will ever change any of that. Ever.

Now, it's time for pictures!

A few minutes after you were born. You hardly cried at all and were very alert!

Sweetly sleeping, less than a day old

 Snoozing on your daddy's chest



And some more recent photos....

 

Naked baby shot!

 

You and your sissies. You're just one of the gang now!

 

Hazel making you laugh. You love her and Evangeline SO much!!

 

Sweet, sweet little guy :)

 

 

Who's the Boss??

This afternoon while the baby was asleep and Chad had taken the girls to the park I picked up a copy of an old James Dobson parenting book called Parenting Isn’t for Cowards that had been given to us by either my mother or Chad’s a few years ago. I read the whole thing. Maybe I was hoping that what I would glean is that I’m not doing a terrible job at this parenting thing after all. Maybe I was hoping that I would get just one tiny little piece of advice about what to do when my toddlers are being, well, toddlers. And if I didn’t get any reassurance or valuable advice, I was hoping to get a really terribly old-fashioned piece of advice (from what I gather is a pretty old-fashioned dude) that I could tear apart for a great blog post. I may have been looking for a fight and some reassurance all at the same time, but instead I found a bunch of generic advice and excerpts of letters that had been written to him, and sadly nothing too salacious that I could write a scathing blog post about. It seemed like a half-hearted effort, more of a “Well, people buy my books. Can I repeat myself in a different enough way that people will buy another one that says all the same stuff?”

 But besides there being very little real advice, there was a general tone that didn’t feel right to me: the idea that grabbing the reigns of total parenting authority from day one will help ensure smooth sailing during the more turbulent years of parenting. There was a feeling of “If you don’t show them who’s boss right now and all of the time, they will decide that they are in charge and ruin your life and dye their hair green and drop acid”. That was almost a direct quote. But is this true? There is some pretty strong evidence that kids function better with clear and strong boundaries in their lives because it makes them feel safe. But what does that mean in my day-to-day life parenting two toddlers (and a baby?). Does this mean that whenever they say “No!” that I give them “a few sharp slaps on the legs”? (That one WAS a direct quote, p.67) Is this actually how I’m going to help my children to feel safe? This is how I’m going to assure my toddlers not to worry, mommy’s in control?  By being strict, unwavering, and sticking to my ideals more than listening instinctually to their needs?

And this is where I start to scratch my head. “Come here kid, I’m going to hit you. But I love you. I don’t want to do this but it’s for your own good.” I’m sorry, but I DON’T GET IT. The few times I have spanked my girls it did absolutely nothing but make them afraid of me. Is this how I’m sending the message that I’m in charge? Respect me or I’ll hit you? I just don’t know. Sure, I’m only 2 and a half years into this parenting thing, and most of the time I’ll admit that I’m flying by the seat of my stretchy pajama pants. But no matter how many times I am told by well-meaning people that I need to be more strict, that I need to spank, that I need to be firm and NO MATTER WHAT follow through with any and all threats…I just can’t do it. Dobson would call me a wimp, I’m sure, but maybe it’s because the alternative that he offers is more about strictly controlling than gently guiding, and which sounds better?

I think that the whole idea of the parent always being in charge is a bit of a farce, anyway. Well, at least around here it is. Let’s say, hypothetically, that things were getting really loud and crazy in our house. There may or may not be yelling involved…hypothetically. So, the hypothetical neighbors decide to call the police on this hypothetical situation, and when they arrive at the house they knock on the door. A frazzled woman in stretchy pajama pants answers the door. “Hello ma’am,” the handsome police officer begins , “Are you in charge here?” And she just laughs and laughs and laughs, and her hysterical laughing turns into weeping and she curls up into a ball and accidentally falls asleep on her doormat. She’s not in charge. She knows she’s not in charge and that’s what is so terribly funny and terribly terrible all at the same time. When you’ve finally found ten minutes to go poop for the first time in three days and your toddler barges in and absolutely refuses to leave, you can safely conclude that you are not in charge. You’re taller than everyone else in your house so it seems like you should hold the power, but really…come on. Let’s not kid ourselves. The other night after we “put the kids to bed” we paused our episode of Battlestar Galactica no less than nine times in the first 15 minutes of the show to go deal with the little ones. We could be strict, we could spank them when they call us to come into the room repeatedly, we could just let them cry… but we can’t. We just can’t do it. Maybe I am setting myself up to be walked all over, maybe they’re going to “dye their hair green and drop acid”. Green hair is pretty ugly. But what if maybe, just maybe, our more “gentle” attempts at parenting are going to pay off positively? What if they will be more likely to come to us with a problem? What if they will be more honest? What if they will trust us more than if we had spent their younger years fighting for total control? What if this actually “works”? What if I’m not wrong on this one?

What if…

trusting my instincts isn’t such a terrible idea?

So, how about this- what if before we consulted the “experts” we had a real heart-to-heart with ourselves? Regardless of what your Grandma did, or what your parents did, or what your pastor says (“Spare the rod and spoil the child!”), what your best friend does, let’s decide to not ever parent against our better instincts. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it, because it doesn’t feel right for a reason, and it’s a slippery slope to begin to question your feelings about how to care for those precious gifts that you have been given. Just like I did with those maddening baby sleep books, I’m going to stop looking for answers from people who have never even met my kids. I was not only given my children, I was given the tools to care for them by their Creator. He formed their crazy little personalities, their hearts, their attitudes, their glorious imaginations, and their beautiful spirits. My guidebooks are my heart and the whisperings of the Holy Spirit who gently guide me on this bizarre and beautiful journey, and help me to hear the music in the madness.

My Pre-Bucket-Kicking List

I think that one of the great things about being a stay-at-home parent is that it allows you to have a few years to figure out what you really want to do with the rest of your life. I know that my kids aren’t always going to need me like they currently do and when that happens, whether it be when they’re all in school or a few years later, I will hopefully have been laying a foundation for me to transition into a fulfilling job. Since I never really had a “career” before they were born, I’m not really sure what I’m cut out to do.  My dream jobs are all really weird sounding and most definitely not money-makers. Seriously, here are just a few of the many things I have thought up in the past few years.

-          Consignment flower shop- Do you grow amazing flowers in your yard? Don’t mind sharing your bounty? Bring your flowers into my shop: I’ll pay you for them, and sell them to other people on the cheap.  That way even the poorest of us can have fresh flowers in our homes all of the time, and we can afford to give our grandmas big bouquets of local, seasonal flowers every time they break a hip. You make money for what’s already growing in your yard! I make money from selling your flowers! People can buy cheap presents for each other! WIN-WIN-WIN!

-          Caffeine Truck- I posted about this on facebook a few weeks ago, and I still think it’s a winner. Here’s the deal: I buy a food type truck. I install some espresso machines and the like, and then I outfit it with awesome speakers on the top. As you are rolling out of bed on Saturday morning, you hear some amazing Sia, or Justin Beiber, or the Les Mis soundtrack, or Kelly Clarkson, or The Fresh Beat Band (depends on my mood, ok?) and you know it’s me bringing you some fair trade and local, glorious caffeinated delights. You throw on your robe and slippers, grab some dollar bills, and run out to greet me. I fulfill all of your wildest coffee-related fantasies right outside of your home.

-          MMmmmm Salads- Ok you guys, I make amazing salads. There aren’t a whole lot of things that I know for sure that I’m good at, but making a delicious salad is one of the few.  I know that there have been salad-themed restaurants before, and honestly they were always boring. So, keeping that in mind, I’m not sure how I would get people into my restaurant to try my amazing salads, but once they did they would be hooked. I guess I could sell other stuff too, like cookies and brownies (hey, all you had for lunch was a salad! Treat yo’self!). It’s apparently an unwritten rule that women aged 20 and over have to eat mostly just salads whenever they go out to eat , so there’s a demographic for it. I just need a good name:

“Eat Yo’ Greens”

“Fat Salads”

“Heavy on the Ranch”

“Lettuce N’ Stuff”

“Crunchin’ and Brunchin’ and Lunchin’”

 “Our Daily Veg”

“Rabbit Food”

I have plenty more equally far-fetched ideas about what I would like to do with my life in a few years. Life is way too short to work a job you don’t like, or to sit at home and twiddle your thumbs. God didn’t fill this world with crazy awesome people who have crazy awesome ideas so that we can all repress our ideas because they are totally crazy, and never become who we want to be. But if I have to work a “normal” job to pay the bills for a while, then I’m going to make sure spice up our lives by actually doing everything on my….

 Bucket List.

-          Join the local roller derby for at least one season. Kick butt, get in shape, be aggressive, have tons of fun.

-          Volunteer for an animal shelter or sanctuary once a week for six months. Bring the kids along with me (Chad, too) and help teach them that every single one of God’s creatures is important and deserves our kindness and love.

-          Live in another country for at least three months. Canada does not count. Preferably a tropical country.

-          Volunteer at a homeless shelter or rescue mission once a week for six months. The homeless are too often ignored and forgotten… by me. I want to remind myself and teach my kids that every single person on this planet is deeply loved by their Father. No matter what, we are called to show them God’s love and to serve them.

-          Build an adorable tiny house, less than 700 or 800 square feet, and live in it. I am TOTALLY NOT KIDDING. I want for us to do most of the work ourselves and use as many reclaimed items as we can. I’m talking all three kids and us in the house.  I think I would love the challenge of the tiny space, being forced to live simply, and being in very close quarters with our kids. Chad would love building his own house, and starting small (tiny) makes it actually seem achievable. We may have to get a hotel room every now and then, but hey. I think it would be worth it.

This is, of course, after Trapper goes to be with Jesus. His farts would suffocate us in that small space.

-          Take voice lessons and get my pipes back. Maybe my kids will eventually stop telling me, “No more singing, Mama!!!!”

-          One of my lifelong dreams is to give someone a house. I’m not sure why I’m so attracted to this idea, but owning a home is a dream for so many people and one that seems to be becoming more and more difficult to achieve. Our house is definitely a starter house, “our-first-home” type material. I would die of happiness if I was able to pretend that we were selling our house, and surprise the people who want to buy it by just giving it to them. What if someone did that for you, wouldn’t that MAKE YOUR LIFE???  I get excited just thinking about it. It’s ridiculous, but I really want to do it. I’d need a lot more money, but man. It would be awesome.

-          Volunteer at our local hospital as a baby holder in the NICU. A friend of mine had her babies in the NICU for a while and mentioned to me that some of those babies NEVER had a visitor and were rarely held. Hearing that just about ripped my heart in two. Every life, every single life, is precious.

-          Volunteer (or get a job at) a community garden or a small farm. I really feel like it’s important to learn about how to grow food, I just have no idea how to do it and don’t think I can learn it from a book. The kids would LOVE it. It will be awesome and teach us all how to respect God’s amazing creation.

So, there it is. There are of course about 600 other things that I’ve thought of, but these particular ideas keep popping up in the murky waters of my tired brain. I believe that life really is what you make it to be, and I want our lives to be full of giving, learning, traveling, serving, taking chances, and lots of silliness J

Carpe Diem, Y’all!!

Whole Foods with Kids

Getting out of the house with three kids under the age of three, two of whom are new to the whole "not pooping or peeing on myself" thing can be challening. The gear alone that you have to bring is overwhelming, especially since I've added to my list a portable potty (which I call my briefcase, because it folds up to be the shape of one and makes me feel business-y (because business people carry bright green plastic breifcase shaped potties around)) and 55 pairs of extra toddler pants and underwear in case of near-certain "accidents". Which usually aren't so much "accidents" as "on purpose...dents".  (You can read about what it takes to get out with my little ones here).

But I have a worst nightmare in life. Here it is, allow me to set the scene. I'm out with my three kids, and we have things to buy. A lot of things to buy. And guess where we have to buy them from? WHOLE FOODS. AT LUNCHTIME. ON THE WEEKEND.

There are grocery stores that are child-friendly, and then there is Whole Foods. First of all, do they purposely move into stores that don't have enough parking? Is that cool? Because I would still go there if they had a Wal-Mart sized parking lot. Just saying.

SURE, they have a little adorable red wagon full of snacks for my kids. SURE, the staff is usually covered in tattoos and have big beards and dreads and look really unique and your kids will stare and stare at them quietly and it will keep them entertained. But the aisles are two feet wide, there are little kiosks precariously piled high with locally made truffles everywhere, the check out lines back up into the store aisles because the stores are NEVER big enough, and that $15 glass bottle of organic apple cider vinegar? Child level. Oh, what about this container of Chilean saffron that costs a million dollars an ounce? They can get to it.

I know what you're thinking. "Put your kid in the cart, you idiot." Well I would if they had double carts. I don't even think they have enough room to store a double cart, much less make the aisles wide enough to accomodate one. So I put one kid up where they're supposed to go, the other kid in the back with all of the warning signs of stick-figure kids falling to their deaths out of the back of the cart, and the baby goes in my baby carrier. This is, of course, after I find a parking spot. And both toddlers take a turn sitting on the portable potty with the door wide open for all of the passers-by to see. "I go pee pee on the potty!" they yell to everyone. They get it, kid.

We finally get in the store and politely squeeze by people as my toddlers reach out for all of the all-natural goodness that lines the shelves, get what we need (which all has to go into the back of the cart with one of the wild animals toddlers), and proceed to checkout. Here is where it gets really tricky. Why, oh why, do they put cd's in their checkout aisles. Would you like a little Harry Connick Jr. with your organic-grass-fed-free-range beef? You would? Well lucky you, you can grab this overpriced cd that we conveniently put at the same level as the child's seat in our grocery carts. So that they can grab them all and throw them on the floor! And break them! So that their parents have to buy them! Win-win!

So, after considering asking for duct tape to make impromptu straight-jackets for my children to prevent cd breaking and candy-stealing (they will bite through that wrapper in .5 seconds, beware), I am handed my bag of groceries and sent back into the world. Now I have to put my groceries and children into my car, by myself, in a crazy busy parking lot where there are also NO PLACES TO PUT YOUR GROCERY CART. I'm sorry if it isn't classy, Whole Foods, but I need a cart-corral. I bet it's classier than runaway carts everywhere.

But wait, no. Here is where I am the luckiest person. I have a Whole Foods Angel.

Background: I met one of the best people in the world when I was 5. Her name is Maggie Delahoyde, and we basically grew up together. She and our other friend Katie Monroe got me through highschool basically unscathed. Maggie's house was the hangout place, and so her family became almost like an extended family to me and all of our close friends. Maggie's siblings were always in and out, so we got to know all of them (and make fun of them, just like we did our own siblings! lucky them). Her older brother is named Will, and Will has Downs Syndrome. He is an obviously great guy, and everybody loved him when we were in highschool. He was always around, liked to know where everybody was going, and was never treated differently by his family than any of the other kids. He was just Will. The fact that he has Downs Syndrome was never really talked about, mostly because they didn't let it define him. Will defined himself, and he defined himself as a really awesome person. Will works at Whole Foods. Will is my Angel.

After highschool, fast forward through college and a few more years and I find myself back in Raleigh...with kids. From probably the very first time I brought my girls to Whole Foods, Will helped me to my car. He didn't even ask, he just took the cart from my hands and let me lead the way. Every time since, Will helps me to my car, helps me get the kids out (they totally don't mind when he picks them up, they reach out for him just like they do for me), and loads my groceries into the back. He solves my problem of no cart-corrals as he always pushes my cart(s) back to the store for me. The few times that I've gone shopping and he wasn't there, I really missed him. Not just because he helps me, but because his kindness is a little gleam of light in my day. His smile and his refusal to not help me make me feel...noticed. In a world where I somtimes feel like I'm bothering everyone just by having kids, Will gives me special treatment. I need that.

I didn't always have kids (shocking, right?). Even when I was a nanny, I would see moms out shopping with their broods and have absolutely NO idea how difficult that seemingly simple task was for them. I didn't always look for ways to help them like I do now, or for chances to smile or give a little word of encouragement. Now that I have little kids I know how hard it can be, and I have a lot more compassion. I know that those moms need help sometimes, just like I do. But you know what? It didn't take being a parent for Will to be helpful. Will doesn't have kids, and I'm guessing he's never been a nanny. He saw a need, and he met it. No questions asked. He wasn't "polite" and he likely didn't even think about how it may offend me or hurt my pride by offering to help. HE JUST DID IT. He boldly took my cart and did what needed to be done to get me on my way. Even though he hasn't experienced what my life is like, he jumped in to make it easier for me. He followed his instincts and his heart.

I really hope that I can be more like Will. I hope that I can get my head out of my own butt and look around and meet people's needs before they have to ask. I hope that I can just take their (figurative) grocery carts out of their hands and lessen their loads without thinking too much about how I might come off or if I may offend them. I hope that I can make people's lives a little easier, even in just a simple way, like Will does for me.

Going with the flow...

You know the moment. That sweet, quiet time when you are rocking your baby to sleep in your arms. His eyes slowly drift shut as sleep gently starts to wash over him. You did it, momma. Now all you have to do is stand up and transfer him to his bed in the least-awkward way possible. There you go, complete naptime success is so close you can almost taste it…

And so can your other children.

“MOMMA!” (knock knock) “MOMMA. MOMMA. MOMMA.” (bang, bang) “THERE. IS. A. BUG.”

Oh. Hello, unwelcome toddler.

You don’t even want to look at the baby’s face as you are pretty sure his eyes are wide, wide open thanks to this very loud miniature person at his door. You sneak a quick peek at him anyway… Yep. Wide as saucers. And the toddler is unrelenting.

“MOM! (bang) MA! (bang) MOM! (bang) MA! (bang) YOU GET THE BUG!!!”

And you come to a crossroads in your life. The toddler or the baby? I usually choose the toddler, considering that the volume they operate on is louder than those monkeys that you can hear from miles away in the forest. You didn’t know about those monkeys? They exist. And my kids are louder than they are. There is no person alive who can sleep through my children’s loudness, unless they’re in a coma. Even then, the jury’s still out- I’m bringing them to the hospital next week to hang out in coma patients rooms and bother them to wakefulness.

Getting two 2-year-olds to be quiet is like getting your dog to not bark at squirrels or getting your mom to not comment on your hair. It’s not happening. But you know what? Despite the terrible odds, I still have to try. My house is small, my baby is young, and I really need for my toddlers to sometimes be quiet. I’ve tried EVERYTHING to get them to remember to be quiet for longer than 12 seconds.

Candy.

Videos.

High-fives. (I know, lame. But I ran out of candy)

Talking to them. I even tried that Beginner’s Acting trick of putting emphasis on every word in the sentence to see if it would sink in. “I NEED… for you to be quiet. I need FOR YOU… to be quiet. I need for you TO BE… quiet. I need for you to be QUIET.” They just laughed at me.

So, like with everything else, I soldier on and hope that this too shall pass. In the meantime, I have compiled a list of things that one would hope to never hear their older children say to each other whilst one is engaged in that critical moment of rocking their baby to sleep. Hearing these things forces you to face the possible destruction of your home, the safety of your toddlers, the sanity of your conscious mind, the possibility that your baby will not ever be able to take a nap for his entire existence, and the meaning of life.

Here’s the list. Most unfortunately, this list came from my truthful personal experience.

“I’m all wet!”

“You all wet!”

“It’s all wet!”

“Momma’s makeup! I try it.”

“I’m gonna climb this.”

“You climb this too, Sissy?”

“Look at my poo poo!”

“I have yucky panties.”

“You touch my bottom?” (they’re only 2, remember that)

“Did you eat it?”

“I put it in my mouth!”

“I open the door! C’mon Sissy!” (yep. The front door)

“I climb the window.”

“Take it off? My diaper?”

“I found candy!”

 “Eggs! I’m gonna crack them.” (They can open the fridge now, hurray)

So this is the background noise of my every attempt to rock the baby to sleep. I am constantly thinking, “Should I intervene? Will they be ok if I’m in here for a few more minutes? Are they going to poop on my bed?” You see, having twins first can be tricky. There is no older sibling to go, “Girls, you probably shouldn’t climb up on the counter and try to get the butcher’s knife. Bad idea.” One unsupervised two year old can be mischievous enough, but two…that’s like two recovering alcoholics living together in a house stocked with booze. No matter how much trouble they’re liable to get into if someone finds out, they’re going to fall off the wagon. We all learned in Psychology 101 that humans are more likely to disobey when someone is willing to go down with them. Well, my kids have a built-in someone. For them it is life’s greatest blessing, I’m sure. For me, well, it’s a panic attack waiting to happen.

Today’s addition to the list:

Lucky me, they both came to tell me some good news just as the baby’s eyelids were beginning to close.

“MOMMA! I go poo poo!!”(knock knock)

“Hazel go poo poo Momma! She did it!” (knock knock knock)

“You wipe my bottom?”

“Wipe Hazel’s bottom, Momma!”

 “POO POO MOMMA. POO. POO.”

So, as I imagined Hazel smearing her butt all over our tan couch, I got up from the rocking chair and attended to my toddler with the baby in my arms.

Luckily, he’s much better at going with the flow than I am.

'Twas Two Nights Before Christmas

'Twas two nights before Christmas
And all through the house
Every creature was stirring.
We even woke up the mouse.

The children were tucked in their beds
With great care,
And with my foolish hope
That they just might stay there.

When the midnight bell tolled
I heard a voice, small and sweet
That was slightly distressed.
Time for baby to eat.

So he nursed and he nursed
And I kissed his warm head
As he drifted to sleep,
Then I headed for bed.

I pray I don't jinx it,
But could I be quite done
With my tired nightly duties?
I might sleep 'till the sun!

But fate was not kind.
I was dealt a poor hand
For in less than two hours
I was summoned again.

"MommaDadda!" I heard
Then a small pitter-patter
So I got out of bed
To see what was the matter

"I want juice!" The girl cried,
Her voice tiny and bright.
"I'm awake!" Then she smiled
"I'm all done night-night!"

No you're not! My voice Grinch-ish
Or perhaps rather Scrooge-y
My frequent awakenings
Now making me moody

I got her some juice
And tucked her in tight
Then I looked in her eyes
And I pleaded "Good night"

But not even thirty minutes
Had yet dared to pass
When I heard more loud cries
From that two year old lass.

"I sleep in YOUR bed!"
As she opened the door
I looked at my bedmate and asked,
"What's one more?"

He nodded agreement
So she snuggled inside
Our modest-sized bed,
Now three people wide.

So cramped up and cozy
And drifting to sleep
For a full thirty seconds
No one made a peep!

I looked at the monitor
When I heard his first cry.
And what did I see there
But two wide, glowing eyes

I knew in that moment
This was not just a feed
He was wide, wide awake
Hi Mom! Play with me!!

So, To all of the mamas
Up feeding their young
And to all of the dads
Rising long 'fore the sun

Take heart, for one day
You will sleep till sun's light.
Merry Christmas to all!
And to us a good night.

I can do hard things.

Here's what I used to do to go shopping.

-Put shoes on. Grab bag (wallet, keys, chapstick, phone). Go.

Here's what I do now. I wish I was exaggerating.

First, I make sure the bag is packed:
- two juice cups
- one bottle of milk
- two bags of snacks
- one bottle of water
- two extra snacks
- four size 4 diapers
- four size 2 diapers
- extra pair of pants for the girls
- extra outfit for the baby
- hand wipes
- butt wipes
- baby's pacifier
- extra pacifiers
- ergo baby carrier
- wallet, keys, chapstick, phone

"Ok! We can go!"
 Oh wait, now I need to:
- put socks and shoes on Toddler One
- put socks and shoes on Toddler Two
- start warming up the bottle
- reapply socks and shoes to Toddler One
- close all of the doors so Trapper can't sneak onto our beds
- reapply shoes to Toddler Two
- locate and refill the previously packed juice cups that were stolen and drained of their contents by, guess who, Toddlers One and Two

"Ok! We're really ready!"
Wait...The bottle!!! I forgot! It's scalding!
- get steaming bottle. Be sad that I probably just nuked the nutrients from my hard earned bottle of breastmilk.
- get over it. Grab backpack. Grab baby. Time to go!

"Ok girls! We're ready for real this time! Let's go!"
silence. They are nowhere to be found.
"Children!! Come here please, it's time to go!"
Here they come. Ahh, the pitter patter of little feet.
Crap... feet.
- reapply socks and shoes to Toddlers One and Two

- quickly usher them out the door before they have time to de-shoe themselves again
"Ok girls. I want you to walk straight to the car. It's not time to play, it's time to go to the store. Please obey and walk straight to the car right now."
- watch as Toddlers One and Two run in opposite directions
"Come to the car! RIGHT NOW!"
"No! Come get me, Mama!!"  Laughs maniacally.
"I can't! I'm holding baby brother! Please my dear, sweet children. I'm two seconds away from a meltdown, so why don't you just obey me for once in your short little lives. I'm begging you, come to the car!"
- they finally come. they climb into van. they get into their chairs.

- Ok. attempt to buckle toddlers in
"NO! MY DO IT!!!!"
- you know how this goes. eventually after (two seconds of) me being an AMAZING mom and being SO patient while letting them struggle to buckle themselves in while holding a fussing baby...I take over. Buckled. Done.
- buckle baby in.
- baby starts to cry. Is he hungry? I'll give him some milk. I sit and give him his bottle. Man, he's a slow drinker. He is just lingering, smiling, savoring this moment. You think you're going somewhere, mom? You're not. I'm keeping us in this driveway for as loooooong as possible. I'm just going to take a tiny sip...smile...one more sip...aren't I cute? And on and on. FINALLY he finishes.

All right, folks! We can go!!!

And we do. And while the car ride is not always calm and happy and enjoyable, it's blissful for three reasons.
No one can move.
I can listen to NPR.
I can honestly say "I'm sorry I cant get your juice that you intentionally threw down. I'm driving."

Then we arrive.
I sit for a moment, revving myself up for the next set of tasks.
Ok, here we go.
- get double stroller out of trunk
- get Toddler One out of carseat
- buckle Toddler One into stroller
- get Toddler Two out of carseat
- buckle Toddler Two into stroller
- push them around to the other side of the car to get baby Brother
- get baby carrier on
- insert baby
- strap backpack to the stroller (I have this ENORMOUS carabiner called "The Mommy Hook" that I can hook onto the stroller and then hook stuff to it like bags. Its frightful and embarassing and oh, so useful)
- stop halfway into store to dole out snacks
- walk inside store
- receive pitying looks
- shop. victoriously.
Because I can do hard things.

So, in sum, if you get a Christmas present from me this year, you better at least pretend to be pretty damn excited about it.