Goodness Gracious.

Posted on October 6, 2011 by Harmony

Getting out of the house is the only reason why I haven’t thrown in the towel yet on this mom thing.

Here you can see TWO sleeping peacefully while ONE screams crazy talk at me. Had we been indoors … well … it would have sucked.

Verdict: Awesome.

Posted on October 4, 2011 by Harmony

I love my Ergo.

That is all.

Boring Mommy Stuff.

Posted on October 4, 2011 by Harmony

Yesterday, I sat in a park holding TWO and watching ONE play in the sandbox and wondered to myself if I am going to become one of those women who only talk about their kids.

As beautiful and wonderful as they are, I hope that is not what I am headed toward. Really. I have so many other things to discuss. Pretty much every time I go in public something happens that makes me think to myself, this needs to be on the internet. Like yesterday, while at said park, a stranger mom confessed to me that she had suffered a panic attack just the day before. She didn’t even buy me dinner first. She just jumped right in.

Although … and here I am going to do it again, talk about boring mommy stuff … my Ergo carrier was delivered yesterday, and the level of excitement I felt when I took it out of the box was a defining moment. I was more excited to get that package than I was to receive my last order from Sephora. And that is saying a LOT.

I can’t wait for TWO to wake up so I can put him in our new fancy carrier, and he can scream, and I can hate myself for spending so much money on something I hoped would make my life easier. I will keep you all posted. I know you are on the edge of your seats.

Twilight.

Posted on October 3, 2011 by Harmony

I just ordered tickets to the Early Access Breaking Dawn Midnight Premiere on November 18.

That’s right.

Me and my friend Anna (thankfully, she loves Twilight as much as I do and WEARESOEXCITED) are going to hang out with a bunch of other moms in our own private movie theater, have cocktails, and wait for 12:01 a.m. to strike so we can see Breaking Dawn before the rest of the town.

Hopefully, no hardcore breast feeders, if in attendance, will recognize and berate me in public. Give me a break, people. Does natural birth not count for ANYTHING?

Romance.

Posted on October 2, 2011 by Harmony

I love Husband.

He can be SO infuriating. He has no sense of urgency. He’s a slob. He is extremely tall and takes up a lot of space when he sleeps. But … I love him. So much. Just like he loves me despite all of my aggravating qualities.

Ever since we started having kids, our relationship has changed. It scared me to face this fact, having read many articles about marriages that fizzle out once children enter the picture. I was terrified that we would no longer have fun, or like each other, or have time for anything other than bill-paying and child-feeding. Because, frankly, we were pretty awesome before we had kids. And no one wants to be lame.

Things change, and thankfully, we adapted. Our definition of romance has morphed into something I would have laughed at several years ago. I have learned to recognize that while he might not bring home flowers, he does take the time to kiss me when he walks in the door. He takes the baby so I can have a break. He shows me he loves me in unconventional ways … which isn’t so different from the way things started out.

One day, the kids will be gone and it will just be us again. I hope that the efforts of today pay off and we will still find each other interesting.

Revelations.

Posted on October 1, 2011 by Harmony

Husband took over baby duty last night so I could sleep (he offered! I didn’t even have to ask — major points), and then when my family woke me up this morning I was a complete bitch. So did the extra sleep do any good?

I think it only gave me extra energy to be rude.

Currently, I’m drinking my first batch of coffee and working on my attitude. I think I just need some time to myself without anyone talking to me through a locked door. Husband seems to understand that about me — my need for autonomy. I am a very independent person. It’s wearing to have little people clinging to me all day, even though I love them. He works long hours. I think he realizes I have taken on quite a task here. Hopefully, I can find balance to my new life so that I don’t continue to behave irrationally.

But … there is good news. I am down 28 pounds! I have a LOT more to go before I’m at my “goal” weight, but it’s an excellent start considering I am not dieting or exercising. I am simply caring for two small children which is a diet and exercise plan in itself.

Too bad I gained twice the recommended amount during my pregnancy, otherwise I’d be done with the pregnancy weight and could move on to other things. Like working on my six-pack.

Look out, Fergie.

(source)

Friday.

Posted on September 30, 2011 by Harmony

GOOD GRIEF.

I made it through this ridiculous week. The hazing is now complete.

I will be treating myself to a pedicure tomorrow while Husband watches ONE and TWO (read: watches the LSU game while ONE runs wild, and TWO sits in a boppy pillow staring blankly).

I haven’t looked at my feet in a long time … but a toenail caught on my bedsheet last night as I was tossing and turning, and it reminded me I really need to pay attention to myself before I turn into “that” mom who “used to be cute.”

Also, it’s high time I got out of the house.

Important Question.

Posted on September 29, 2011 by Harmony

It’s 1:57 pm and I just brewed a pot of coffee. I already hit up the Starbucks drive-thru once today for a triple latte.

So, on a scale of one to ten … how harmful is my raging caffeine habit?

Open Letter.

Posted on September 29, 2011 by Harmony

To The Makers of Play-Doh,

You make my son very happy. However, I find your product stressful.

It’s sticky and messy and impossible to clean out from underneath little fingernails. Also, children think it’s edible. Why? Because it’s salty. Like potato chips.

You do not mesh well with my obsessive need for cleanliness. Actually, children don’t either.

That is all,
Harmony

The House of Screechers.

Posted on September 28, 2011 by Harmony

My children are taking turns screaming at the top of their lungs.

ONE has been very unlikable. That is putting it mildly. He is three and adjusting to his new life. I keep having to say that out loud, lest I completely LOSE it and lock him in the backyard until his daddy comes home.

Things seem to be very slightly improving each day … or maybe I am just getting used to the cacophony of screeching that takes place from 7 a.m. – 7 p.m. or later. I hope it really is getting better, because no one likes to visit The Family Of Screechers.

But then, moments like this happen, and I have a glimmer of hope that I will have a normal life again one day, we will all like each other most of the time, and the screeching will cease.

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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