The Morning After.

Posted on December 15, 2011 by Harmony

Ah … office Christmas parties.

So THIS is what the children were doing while the rest of us ate Chinese food, played dirty Santa, and drank whiskey that we smuggled into the party in our diaper bag.

Going From One To Two.

Posted on December 14, 2011 by Harmony

HOLY CRAP.

If you are a parent of just one child, you may want to stop reading here, lest you be frightened out of having any more.

Read more here!

Somewhere To Go.

Posted on December 13, 2011 by Harmony

I have somewhere to be tonight and my favorite boots won’t come up over my calves. These shoes and their maker, Kenneth Cole, mock me.

Narcoleptic.

Posted on December 13, 2011 by Harmony

Taking a nap on Thanksgiving Day.

Does anyone else’s husband have a hobby (video games) that keeps him up until all hours of the night, causing him to be a narcoleptic during the day?

Oh, it’s just me?

That’s what I figured. Well … I cope by telling myself that it could be worse. He could be a philanderer. Or an out-of-control gambler. Or a drunk. Instead he spends an average of four hours a day sucked into an imaginary world I will NEVER understand. And the result? Narcolepsy.

Yesterday I carried a basket full of clean laundry upstairs and left Husband downstairs with ONE. I was up there maybe ten minutes when ONE came clambering up the stairs, arms full of Christmas ornaments which he had removed from the tree directly next to Husband’s head — which was on the couch.

Apparently the minute I left the room he fell into a slumber so deep he didn’t hear the rustling of the tree or the clanging of the ornaments … much like a narcoleptic would do. It took pretty much everything in me not to snap. I think I yelled something like “what the HELL?!” and then I let him deal with the mess.

Ah … husbands. Some hunt deer, some pretend to live in a world where warlocks and witches kill each other. Truthfully, I’d be pissed if he tried to hang a deer head on the wall. So again, it could be worse …?

As you can probably imagine, I have LOTS more to say on the matter, but I’ll just stop here. If anyone who reads this has helpful advice on how to deal with a gamer spouse, then bring it.

Ugh.

Posted on December 12, 2011 by Harmony

So here’s the person I’ve become.

Messy, ill-fitting workout clothes, no makeup, unwashed hair, bloodshot eyes, and a FREAKING MOP.

I am officially a cliche.

Santa Saturday.

Posted on December 10, 2011 by Harmony

We had breakfast with Santa Claus this morning.

Seriously, seven hours later I have forgotten all about how stressful it was to keep ONE from yanking on the tablecloth and how irritated I was that he spilled his milk all over the floor because they didn’t have straws there for kids to drink out of, and how TWO cried for what seemed like an eternity.

When I look at this picture all I think about is how much fun we had.

And also how happy I am that it’s over.

But mostly about how much fun we had.

Dear Carters: I Love You.

Posted on December 9, 2011 by Harmony

Remember when my stroller broke? Well, this week my JJ Cole diaper bag also bit it. It had a hard life for three years, and I guess it was time for it to pass on. My dear friend Lila gifted it to me when I was pregnant with ONE and we absolutely wore it to pieces.

I went on a search this week for a new bag and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty. When did Buy Buy Baby decide it was okay to charge upwards of $150 for a pleather diaper bag? I mean … come on. I was actually one of those customers muttering aloud to herself “This piece of crap is $169? PUL-LEAZE,” in the aisle.

I’m no cheap skate, but I just wasn’t willing to pay that much money for a big piece of plastic. Another issue I was running into was SIZE. None of them were big enough, or they were ridiculously enormous and carrying it would just piss me off because I would know I was carrying diapers and not clothes for a weekend getaway …

So finally I went to Babies R Us and I found the perfect bag, made by Carter’s, for $50. IAMSOHAPPY. We’re best friends. Not forever. But at least for a year or two.

I have a lot of stuff.

I got everything in there with room to spare!

Bad Time To Diet.

Posted on December 9, 2011 by Harmony

I am never going to lose weight if my husband keeps bringing home whole milk and Lucky Charms. In addition, working out makes me HUNGRY. This seems counterproductive.

I realize it’s unfortunate that I am dealing with postpartum weight issues during the holiday season. It’s hard to keep perspective when you’re surrounded by egg nog.

Mmmmmm. Egg nog.

Posted on December 8, 2011 by Harmony

Changes are coming.

Verdict: Still Colicky.

Posted on December 8, 2011 by Harmony

My three-month-old son has colic. STILL. It got better, and then it got bad again. But it’s still not nearly like it was a month or two ago. That was so horrible I think I’ve stricken it from memory.

People who have not parented a baby with colic do not understand what it’s like, and it’s hard to explain to them without breaking down crying yourself. I’m not sure if I should be thankful that ONE had it, so at least I knew how to handle it, or if I should feel cursed that I have birthed two children who both screamed bloody murder for the first few months of life.

I think I’ll choose to be thankful.

We’re switching back to soy formula today, a different brand than before so hopefully it will agree with him. I look forward with much excitement to the day that he smiles his little dimply smile all the time instead of just half the time. If I survive this. Which I guess I will. But most days, I want to run screaming to my mother who lives 6 hours away, or at the very least send Husband to get a vasectomy.

That’s just the sleep deprivation talking. We’ll probably have more kids.

If I survive.

How can one little guy wreak so much havoc?

Yesterday, a terrible thing happened.

Let me preface this by saying that I am struggling to adjust to summer break. Struggling. Like … it’s good? But also horrible? Can something be good and horrible all at once? Because I’m pretty sure that is exactly what parenthood is.

Making the transition from having all three kids in school for 6+ hours per day (and working during those hours), to having them home all the time and trying to get my work done in addition to mothering in a loving fashion, is not going great. As I have already established in multiple blog posts from previous years, summer is effing relentless.

Pepper is obsessed with two things: outlets and babies. Here she is showing her baby doll the outlet in her bedroom. #multitasking

Thankfully, this year is somewhat easier than previous years simply because my children are getting older and more independent. Pepper will be 3 next week, so I think we’re finally on the upswing after a very dark time in the Valley of Motherhood.

Yesterday afternoon, we got home from playing at the park. The boys jumped out of the van, heard some kids next door playing, and asked if they could go over to play. I granted them permission and took Pepper inside. Her clothes were filthy — covered in layers of peanut butter and dirt — so I stripped her down to a diaper.

I ran to the bathroom with her trailing behind me, always my little shadow. And then, my mom called. She’s not feeling well and I can barely hear her on the phone. I was straining to understand what she was saying — did she just say she needed to go to the hospital?! — and naturally, my toddler got really loud at exactly that moment. As her shouting drowned out my mother, my stress level started to rise.

I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My daughter cried from the hall, and when she stopped, I was thankful. When I emerged only a few minutes later, the house was quiet. A panicky feeling started to rise in my chest, and then it felt like my heart stopped.

Just.

Stopped.

Beating.

Our back door was standing wide open.

Screaming her name, I ran outside. She was gone. Or hiding. Or missing.

I heard a woman’s voice — our across the street neighbor — yelling at me that she just saw a little girl cut through the fences in the backyard.

“She went that way, sweetheart! I was standing here watching her!”

I was barefoot and it did not matter. I ran. I ran until I found her. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my body. All I could hear was my own voice screaming her name, and my heartbeat deafening my ears. That is what blind panic feels like.

My 2-year-old was wandering one street over from ours, wearing nothing but her diaper. She was holding a toy pet carrier with a little stuffed dog inside. I will never forget the way her face looked when she saw the horror on mine.

“NEVER AGAIN,” I said to her.

“Not with my dog?” she said.

“NEVER, EVER. Do not ever leave this house without a grown up,” I said, as I wiped away my tears.

I’m sharing this story to demonstrate how quickly children can disappear. How many times have I heard stories of toddlers wandering the streets and thought to myself, WHERE WAS THE MOTHER?

That mother is me. I was right there. It happened anyway.

I’m a damn good mom. I am capable. I am aware. I am not negligent. But children are fast. And sometimes quiet. And things happen. So today I’m hugging my babies tight, grateful for their safety, knowing that sometimes other mamas aren’t so lucky.

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I Was That Mom

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