To Mothers

Sweet and beautiful mothers,

I have been thinking about you a lot since starting this adventure of extra-mothering. Extra because I’m mothering children that aren’t really “mine” – not extra in the sense that I do anything more than what I would do for Jack and Joey…

The nature of my job means that I stay pretty busy, a word I have avoided for a long time, but now seems to fit. I move a lot during the day.

A lot.

A house of 11 kids means that when one body is settled, two or three more are up and moving and talking and needing…

As I have adjusted to this new pace, I have had to reframe my idea of what a “good” mom looks like. I simply can’t do EVERYTHING that I thought I would as a mother.

I have reviewed what I assumed I would do as a mom and had to sort my expectations. There are some things that are a MUST for me – things I would regret not incorporating into my family if I let them slide. Other things however are simply a result of how I was raised or what appeals to me. They are the aesthetics of mothering - the non-essentials that make up what kind of “look” I like.

And for now, some of those minor preferences have taken a backseat to the more urgent needs of my large-scale household.

It used to be that I played a mental parenting chess match. For each move of actual white-piece parenting, my mental black pieces would respond. Every hour of the day alternating between doing and thinking –often critically. Most days, I felt like although I was moving my white pieces across the board, somehow the black pieces always found a way to capture me.

Guilt. Fear. Indecision. Doubt. Check mate.

Now, given the speed of my mothering, I spend a lot less time scoring myself than I do in actual parenting.

I do what I need to do throughout the day, and at the end, if I have energy and emotional capacity, I might review it and see what will work better tomorrow. If I don’t have energy, I will go to bed and know that I did my very best with the day that I had.

This is the change in me that most often makes me think of you.

I used to spend a great deal of emotion considering how to be an intentional and aware parent. But a lot of my thought was more about what was wrong with me than what was right. And, I think, most of it came from a place of fear in me. Fear of not doing my job well, fear of disappointing those who love me or fear of disabling my children in some unseen and un-healable way.

Fear is not really a very good motivator. It is never satisfied. Once you respond to one fear, another is always there to criticize and confuse.

Let me right now say that yes, parenting is very hard. It requires attention, selflessness, and a willingness to always adjust.

Those things are hard.

And we will continue to do them regardless of their difficulty because we are women who respect the call of mothering and desire to honor a creative and loving God who has entrusted us with beautiful and messy and one-of-a-kind children.

Those are hard things, yes. But it used to be the impossible pursuit of perfection that felt so hard for me. I wanted EVERY. SINGLE. MOMENT. to reflect perfection in my parenting.

If I spent a half hour doing the dishes while my boys played happily, I would wonder if I had missed a special moment with them. If I rushed through bath time to get more quickly to bedtime, I would end the night fearful that my boys went to sleep feeling brushed off and unloved. If I lost enthusiasm for making playdoh balls only five minutes into what I hoped would be an activity to fill the morning – I worried that my children wouldn’t have an opportunity to exercise their creativity or express their growing understanding of how the world works…

All these little fears mounted through months and days, filling me with deep concern that I was missing so much, and more horrible to me, that my children were missing so much.

What I have discovered as I meet children with heavy stories and parents that range from uninformed and unable to outright evil… is that parenting isn’t quiet as “hard” as I had been making it.

I have met children who have not just missed out on story time a few nights in a row, but children who, in second grade can’t recognize all the letters of the alphabet. I have taught children who haven’t just been rushed through a bath now and then, but who at the age of 10 aren’t able to shower themselves or use the bathroom in a clean way.

For most of us, I think that mothering is much simpler than we make it.

Do you smile at your children?

You are a good mom.

Do you talk to them while you push them through the grocery store?

You are doing an excellent job.

Do you pay attention to the things that make your children the most glad and try to make those things a part of their days.

You are a success!

The things that make a difference for your children are not going to be all the times you miss. They will live. They will understand that they are not the center of the universe, and that is a good thing.

The things that will speak to your small children and remind them that they are safe and important and valuable to you are the very tiny things that you do so naturally.

I know so many mothers who are truly wonderful. They parent creatively and thoughtfully. They consider the words they use and pay attention to their children’s responses to what is happening around them.

I have been taught and encouraged by these mothers.

But I have also heard their fears, their frustrations, the weariness that creeps in so easily.

To you, my friends, those who mother, please believe me when I tell you that what you are doing is enough. If you wanted to do one or two or three things less, that would still be enough.

Please fill your lungs with a deep, expanding breath, and consider for a moment that you ARE a good mom. The striving and aspiring and worrying can take a break for a minute. Look at your children and know that they will survive a childhood with an imperfect mother and they will be better people for it.

You are loved.

Rest well my dear friends.

The Pretty Bow

I know yesterday's post was a bit of a downer, but over the last year I have been trying to make the concept of "real time" friendships part of the way I live.

One of my wise friends introduced me to the concept and it has stuck in my mind.

The idea is that to feed your friendships and to grow deep roots and sweet fruit in community, I have to let go of my need to present myself as "in control."

I have a tendency to like to tell my sad stories once they have a happy ending. I am learning forbearance and the art of under-reacting to difficulties, knowing that in most cases something that strikes me as traumatic will most likely seem less significant a few days or weeks after the event.

But just because something will eventually get better, doesn't always mean that I need to white-knuckle my way through a hard time alone.

Hence the "real time" conversations. It is the practice of saying, "This is where I am right now. I recognize that it will be different in the future, but at this very moment, I am struggling."

Real time feels so dangerous to me. I wonder what people will think, if they hear the "I can't do it" on the front end of an experience, and never hear the "I did it" or more likely, "God did it!" of the resolution. I am often aware of the challenge of presenting hard times without being a whiner and of knowing what times are appropriate to share a genuine struggle.

I am by no means a master of this kind of relationship, but I would like to be one day. So for now, I will simply try and try again!

All of that to say that yesterday was the beginning of a journey ...

Actually,

it is probably somewhere in the middle

since I feel like

I have been traveling toward an

awesome and unknown destination

for some time.

I figure I am about half-way up a glorious,

though steep,

mountain pass.

Every few switchbacks I get to pause

and see the ever-changing view

and admire the vastness of the world,

but then I must continue on,

moving up at whatever

slow and steady pace I can manage.

And God, in his infinite grace, poured fresh and refreshing air into my lungs this afternoon.

I am still tired, overwhelmed and confused, but to my practical self, already I am seeing a transformation in the two that joined our family on Monday.

I understand more of what is being said to me, and I feel bold in bringing them into the way I parent.

There is always an awkwardness that accompanies the transition from a safe and warm welcome, to integrating a child into the flow of our house.

Today I crossed that line and started to establish routines and boundaries rather than just cuddle and mitigate the stress I image the children are experiencing.

That means that we did time-outs, I said "no" when appropriate, and I got to splurge on a pair of pink suede shoes that made baby girl's eyes shine.

Two children

came into my home with nothing.

However long they stay,

they will at leas

t leave with a weeks worth of clothing

and the small toys

I was able to purchase for them.

I have picked a few places to focus my efforts and through repetition (oh it is mind numbing!), consistency and God's infinite grace, already changes are happening.

To see them in writing makes them seem small, but anyone who is parenting - or has recently parented - toddlers and preschoolers understands the victories of hearing "please" and "sorry" unprompted and of putting children to bed and having them stay there without a fit, are huge.

At one point today all four of my under-5 club were asleep or quiet at the same time. Yes I am that awesome.

Later in the day we all sat for 15 minutes and did a craft project, followed by another 20 minutes of playing with Play Doh.

After a hard rain it was cool enough to play outside so I brought out the speakers and put on dancing music. We colored with sidewalk chalk and jumped around, enjoying ourselves greatly.

And if I were not already the most remarkable (of course I am being facetious here) mother today, I set the table with a simple dinner that all 11 people in my home enjoyed. Sweet victory!

But wait, there is more...

To ice the cake, I single-handedly diapered, changed, brushed teeth and tucked into bed the four-under-five in less than half an hour (Actually, I didn't do all the tucking by myself, for which I am thankful! Way to go Andy!).

Rah Rah Sis Boom Bah! GOOOOOOOO Emily!

The humbling and heart-heavy realities of what I have been entrusted with are still present. I am still unsettled and still so tired that I have lost all sense of propriety and am planning on eating a spoonful of chocolate frosting after I publish this post. But despite the frightening unknown and the sobering known, I have moved forward. That is something to celebrate.

I am so very grateful that God's ability isn't dependent on my courage. His goodness isn't altered by my depravity. His love isn't thwarted by my hard heart. His ways are beyond my ways - unmarred by blemishes.

Oh God, thank you for being the same yesterday, today and forever!

And thank you friends for standing with me! Your prayers made a difference in the day!

GAAAAHHHHHHHH!

I told you several months ago that I moved in with my in-laws.

I have a story I could tell, every day, about this adventure, but I am saving them all up to tell them in bulk some day.

Speaking of telling you stories,

it appears I have not

shared my dirty-mouth-due-to-Biggest Loser-story.

My apologies.

I shall remedy that now.

Let me start by telling you

that I just really don't like cursing.

I don't even like to say, "I swear"

when I mean "I'm totally serious."

Until this story took place,

I had only said one bad word

in my whole life.

It was in sixth-grade and I was late for the

bus for a band field trip

and I couldn't find my flute.

I said "the s word."

Gasp.

I don't even really like writing

"the s word."

But yes, I played the flute in middle school.

However nerdy and school-girl

you can imagine me at that age,

multiply it by about a million and a half,

and that would be me.

In purple stirrup pants.

But back to present day.

Imagine me a just a few weeks from birthing

my second son.

Huge.

And tired.

And with a brain that was totally malfunctioning.

Andy and I were watching

Biggest Loser.

Well, I was sort of spacing out on the couch

while Biggest Loser was on

and Andy was taking care

of things around the house

and wandering back to see highlights

of the show.

At some dramatic twist to the weigh-in

Jillian Michaels swore.

Big time.

Like the worst one of the bad words.

They beeped it out, but her mouth

made her emotions extremely obvious.

Andy heard drama on the screen

and wandered back to get caught up.

As he was walked into the room he

asked, "What'd she say?"

And without the slightest hesitation,

that dirty word fell out of my mouth.

And Andy fell right to the floor.

It took me just a second to realize what I had just done,

but Andy caught it immediately.

I am not sure

if he has ever laughed that hard.

Needless to say, my face was very red

and my dirty-mouth count now is up to two.

Anyway, I now live out in the country.

With a cat that catches mice and snakes.

And a family of dear, complete with a daddy-buck with antlers, that we see in the morning eating apples that have fallen from our apple tree.

Before you picture a barn, let me show you my current residence:

Not too shabby eh?

The house is new, but even new houses in the country can't avoid the blight on an otherwise perfect season.

Spiders.

The destroyer of all my lovely feelings about autumn.

Not just any spiders, wolf spiders. Don't click that link if you can't handle spiders.

Gah!

Now, I'm not life-or-death afraid of spiders. I'm just grossed out on a normal-person level. Except wolf spiders. I'm probably a little more then normal-person afraid of them.

Screams and everything.

Well, it appears that I will have to overcome that squeamishness if I am to raise two boys in the country.

Today Jack ran up to me with a very proud face and said, "Mama! What that?"

Usually he brings me a crumb or dust bunny to examine. A few times it has been a dead bug, but that has seemed manageable.

I was bracing myself for a fat fly or crusty crane-fly until he came up with a closed fist.

Dread set in.

He had something ALIVE.

He opened his hand, and his entire palm, his sweet, pudgy, baby-soft palm, was covered by a wolf spider.

I screamed.

He dropped it.

I then had the unfortunate task of catching the spider and killing it.

The only thing close enough to grab and still keep my eye on the spider was a piece of mail. Me with a tiny piece of paper against a killer-arachnid! I wildly tossed the envelope on the floor, hoping to have it land on the speedy, ugly guy and then squish him under it, but the spider was so big and fat that even when the envelope landed on it, it was no use, the spider just continued to crawl around - with a piece of mail on its back! What sort of monstrous bug does that?! Eventually I had to get a tiny big braver and press the paper down onto the spider with precision.

GAHHHHAAAAHHHHH!

Precision is difficult to manage when you are imagining a fist-sized spider turning on you, leaping at your face and then devouring your first-born child.

But I finally prevailed.

I wish I could convey my terror and disgust. Even writing it now I feel like I have bugs all over me.

But as soon as the carcass was disposed of I thought, who can I tell?

There is only one person who can fully appreciate the horror of such a moment.

My sister.

I called her and left a trembling message, ending with several reenactments of my shrieks at discovering the black creature on my son (insert gag here).

Jack though that my squealing was hysterical. For the rest of the night he asked me, "Mama, what'd you say?"

When I would forget I would say, "What do you mean?"

He would smile wickedly and say, "About a spider!"

Then it was my job to squawk and watch him laugh at the memory.

He also kept wanting to examine the envelope for signs of guts and leftover spider bits.

Oh boys!

How many more years of boys being interested in bugs do I have left? I'm not sure I can handle it if this becomes a daily habit, which I am afraid of given Jack's delight at my loss of self-control today.

Next time, I will have to try very hard to not make a scene.

Actually, I don't know if that is even possible.

I'll have to try something else.

Can you give a kid a time-out for bringing you gross things?

GAHHHHH!!!! Every time I think about it I shudder.

GAHHHHHH!!!!

This kid is going to give me a run for my money!

In-Between

*Um, I still have only been getting about two hours of sleep at a time (that makes about 7 months of sleep deprivation). I have a feeling that when I read back over this post it will be a little confusing and rambling, but it makes me feel like myself to write things, so I'm just trying to capture things when I can.

I also had a toddler bouncing on my lap the entire time.

So if you make it through the whole thing, kudos to you! Good luck!

...

Most days, I really, really love bedtime.

Some days I love it because it means I will be putting both of my li'l pumpkins away for the evening and freeing my hands for some activity of my choosing...

or the dishes...

but still,

doing dishes with two free hands

is infinitely easier

then doing them

with no free hands...

But those days are surprisingly rare.

What I really love about bedtime is that it is the part of our day that Jack and I both are most familiar with.

It has been the same, give or take a few details, from his birth.

It is a chance to end on a good note.

Some of the hardest days have ended with the sweetest cuddles and nighttime songs.

I also love bedtime

because it reminds me

of one of the most

memorable parts of my childhood.

I remember my dad

tucking me in until

I was in high school.

The stories that he read to me

hold special places in my heart

and I can't wait until

Jack and Joey are

old enough to enjoy them too.

As Jack has been getting older, he's been getting sneakier. He knows how to make me do things that weren't part of my original plan and he gets his way far more often then I would have thought he would.

His new ploy has been to prolong bedtime by asking me to "nuggle" him. If he is feeling very ambitious he will ask to "nuggle on the couch" which I almost always refuse because it will inevitably lead to him asking to watch a show, or eat a chocolate chip or play hide and seek.

And we all know what happens when you give a mouse a cookie...

When the couch request fails he asks me to lay down next to him. I usually oblige while we tell our stories or sing our songs. Recently he has decided that mama's bed is more interesting then his own and will often ask to have his stories there.

Last night, after sitting quietly on the deck and watching the stars and listening to airplanes and cars and frogs, I knew it was time for him to be in his own bed, by himself, with his eyes closed. So when he asked me to snuggle in mama's bed, I lovingly told him that it was time for bed. Then I closed the door and moved on with the evening.

Jack usually is in bed around 8:00. Somewhere around 10:00 I wandered into my bedroom only to discover that my cheeky little monkey had silently crept out of his bed and tucked himself into mine!

With our light still on, he was passed out on my pillow with a book tucked under his arm.

It was one of the sweetest, most charming things I have ever seen.

And for some reason it made my heart ache.

Mothering is so complicated. Complicated seems a much more accurate word then "hard."

There are the tedious parts: the dressing and undressing, feeding, figuring out naps...

There are the disgusting parts: diapers, spit-up, sick babies...

There are the sweet and silly parts: wild dance parties, tickle attacks, funny faces...

There are the rewarding parts: seeing your child learn new skills, words and emotions and hearing them say please and thank you, even when you aren't there to remind them...

But then, there are all those parts in-between.

Last night was one of those in-between parts.

When I looked at him curled up in my bed I suddenly remembered that some day, he will face major disappointments and I might not know the words to make them better. Some day he will make significant mistakes, and he may not choose to tell me about them. Some day, his feelings will be hurt, he will struggle, he will be responsible for his own actions.

The part that is totally captivated by Jack's wonderful personality and is truly enjoying seeing him grow up was face-to-face with the part that recognizes that my job is to prepare him for his adult life.

That is a little bit scary to me.

So while I was bursting with the sweetness of finding my toddler asleep in my bed, I was also sobered by the significant responsibility that I bear as a mother.

I'm not sure what to do with those in-between times, but I have a feeling that I don't do much different at this point.

I keep enjoying bedtime and continue to feed and diaper and play. I watch him, and teach him all that I can about shapes and colors and good attitudes and socially acceptable behavior while playing with other children.

Every day I open my hands a little wider to give him space to learn what he is capable of and remind him that I see great things in him.

I remember that as much as I love him and want to protect him and offer him every good thing, even my best efforts will fall short somewhere.

Every day, as I lead two wonderful boys, I must let myself be led by a parent far more capable and wise and creative then I can ever hope to be.

There really is no other way.

So Lord, thank you for these lives entrusted to me, let me enjoy them, but not hold too tight to them.

There is a much longer conversation here, happening between me and God, but I'm not sure it will be terribly interesting to you.

But I hope, that if you have been enveloped in those in-between times, that I am right there with you. Luckily we serve a God who is never in-between. He is over and in and around and under... covering over all of our lack.

Peace to you in the in-betweens friends.

Very Important (Not Really)

A few things you should know about today:

1. I had what was quite possibly the most perfect cupcake on the face of the planet.

It was made fresh this morning by my new friend and delivered to my door just hours after its creation. It was s'mores flavored: a thin graham cracker crust at the bottom of the cupcake wrapper, topped with a layer of bittersweet chocolate, topped with 100% perfect chocolate cake, topped with more chocolate chunks and graham crumbs, topped with homemade marshmallow cream and toasted with a kitchen torch.

I could have eaten myself sick with them. If it hadn't been for the fact that I had to go workout this afternoon, I probably would have.

2. I love my mom.

A lot.

If you haven't met her, you are missing out.

Here she is holding Joey.

Pretty, pretty.

Andy and I went to work out today (45 dead lifts, 60 box jumps and 75 pull-ups, thank you very much). Jack was in a bit of a funk (he is not getting even close to enough sleep and neither am I - a terrible combination) so I dropped Andy off to let him workout and I went to my mom's house. When I got there she cheerfully offered to keep the boys and sent me back to the gym.

It was just what I needed!

Not only is she lovely, and helpful and generous, she is also the ultimate word in just about anything.

Whenever Andy and I have having an "I bet" conversation the winner is always decided by what my mom says. For example, if we have differing opinions of what a word means, we always ask my mom. Or, if we are disagreeing over a bit of trivia, it is always the same, "I'll ask my mom."

The only caveat to this method of deciding who is correct is when it comes to something scientific, such as "What is the term for that whooshing sound you hear when a car drives by?" Then we ask my dad.

It is the Doppler Effect.

There is a lot more to say about my mom, but I have a few more things you should know about today, so I will save her other glorious traits for a later post.

3. I cut off all my hair.

All of it.

There isn't a piece on my head that is more than two inches long.

And it is fabulous.

It makes me feel brave.

This is actually the second time in four days I have been to the salon. For weeks I have been eying a very short, punky style. When I went in to get it cut my hairstylist (who I like very much) talked me out of it. I went with what she said and came home with a really toned-down short-ish style.

Andy gave me a firm (by firm I mean loving and insightful) talking to that went something like this:

"Why didn't you get the cut you wanted?"

"Because she said she didn't want to do it."

"But it was what you wanted, you have been thinking about it for forever. That's why girls never get what they want - they are too afraid to say what they want!"

"I guess I just assumed she knew better."

"She doesn't."

He has a pretty good point, and made think about why I do a lot of things that I don't want to do... I always think someone else knows better. I wonder why? So, spurred on by my wise man, I called and asked if I could have it fixed, and they did, at no charge. I am much happier, and have just the style I wanted!

4. I have a ton of emails to answer and useful computer things that I should be doing, but I don't want to .

I only get to the computer after the boys are in bed and by that time all I want to do is read a few blogs and tell you important things. There is just never enough time, or energy, or brainspace. I am trying to figure out how to be okay with that.

5. Today probably ranks on my top ten list of bad parenting days.

I wavered somewhere between impatient and snappy, and total pushover. Not a bit like the mom I wish to be. Good thing there is always tomorrow.

6. My minutes of computer time are done. I feel guilty for everything that I didn't get to, satisfied with actually posting something, wistful for more time at later point in my life, and considering taking a bath, something I haven't done for several years (minus sitting in a few inches of water with my wee babes).

7. I really want another cupcake.

Good Gifts

This season of my life has been pretty rough. Kids are hard, moves are hard, a spouse in school is hard... sometimes hard things just pile up. That isn't a bad thing all the time, it is just how life goes.

When I was pregnant with Joey, I felt so lame and I truly worried that I wouldn't have any friends when it was over.

Boy have I been proved wrong!

Not a week has gone by without someone calling me or texting me to see how they can help.

Last week I was almost delirious with fatigue. I started composing a snarky blog post in my head (please tell me you do that too) about all the things that people CAN'T help with... it was going something like this:

"How's it going? Is there anything I can do to help?'

"Well, no, actually, there is NOTHING you can do to help. Because I'm pretty sure you don't want to take my baby who wakes up every two hours or less in the night, and let me get some sleep, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to give us a free car so that I'm not stranded in the country and I'm.... "

Blah blah blah, I'm a whiner.

But then, I started thinking. Sometimes I let things stay awful for a little while and then one day, *snap!* I start problem solving.

So I started thinking through what people COULD help me with. I realized that a large part of what is making life hard right now is that I am so, so, so lacking in sleep.

I originally assumed that there would be no way to get a full night sleep, because who in their right mind would bring home someone else's baby and subject themselves to that if they didn't have to.

And then I thought of who.

Sweet, sweet Rosemary and Josh. Here's why I thought they would be up for it: 1) they are awesome 2) they don't have kids yet (one on the way) so they will be able to catch up on the sleep they miss 3) they love kids... A LOT 4) they think that anything that is a new experience is fun and worth a try.

A night with a newborn is definitely an experience.

So, I called Rosemary and she without hesitation said she would have my baby overnight!

Do you hear the angels singing?

What a gift. If you ever encounter a mom to a new baby who is not getting enough sleep, offer to have her baby overnight. You will bless her socks off!

Or, I might be the only woman on the face of the earth willing to part with my baby for a whole 14 hours just 2 months into his life. If I am, I'm okay with it.

The day following Joey's big sleepover, another of my friends, Ashley, who happened to be the recipient of The Meltdown, came and picked Jack up. Even though he had a snotty nose she took him out ALL DAY with her two kids and left me with hours and hours to take another nap, organize my room from the move, and just enjoy Joey.

Jack is a handful.

You can tell because the first thing my mom friends tell me when they bring him back is, "Jack did so good! He only hit one kid!"

I'm hoping he'll grow out of that.

So for Ashley to take Jack with her own 2 year old and infant was a major commitment. And one that I so appreciate.

But she wasn't the only one! Allison, another dear friend, has taken Jack on several occasions. And this weekend, she took BOTH of my babies with her one toddler. She asked me in the morning if she could do that for me and before I could say anything she said, "Don't worry. I know what I'm getting myself into."

Oh the bliss of a few hours all to myself!

I caught up on some emails, unloaded the dishwasher and, you guessed it, took a nap.

I love my friends!

And now, not wanting to be left out of the gift-giving extravaganza, my very own Andy has lined up childcare for me for Monday, Wednesday AND Friday nights for the WHOLE MONTH of May so that I can go workout.

It is weeks like these that make me wonder, how did I get so lucky?

I may stop thinking that when I go to my first workout.

Because remember how I told you that Andy now looks like Hugh Jackman?

Side note:

Why didn't anyone tell me that

in the original post

I wrote "Huge" Jackman

instead of Hugh?

I wonder what other horrible

mistakes I will find when I go

back to the posts from my pregnancy and

these first few months.

I shudder at the thought!

It is all thanks to a workout theory... system... I don't even know what to call it. But it's name is CrossFit.

So when he arranged for childcare, he also signed me up for an introductory CrossFit class.

I will be doing this.

Be careful on YouTube.

I just got sucked into

like 40 minutes of looking at

people doing CrossFit.

Craziness!

Am I insane?

Yes.

Do I really wish I could look like one of those girls?

Yes.

Enough to workout like I live on the Biggest Loser Ranch?

Perhaps.

We shall see.

I hope I don't puke the first class.

Sick Day

Last night I was sick.

Really Sick.

This evening Andy asked me, "Are you going to tell people about it?" and I emphatically said "No!" I said, "Are YOU going to tell people about it?" He assured me that the details are mine to keep. I figure "it" - believe me, "it" needs the quotation marks! - will become one of those stories a few years down the road that we pull out to demonstrate how our marriage has developed and why we remain so deeply in love. But it really will have to wait a few years.

Moving on...

After two long naps and a glass of apple juice, I was well enough to sit on the couch. But that was about it.

Luckily, Jack was a dream today. It was all I could manage to select a show for him to watch from our DVR. Usually, if I have too many shows on in a day I notice that he gets really feisty and sassy from being too sedentary and having too little of my attention. But today he entertained himself and told me cute stories and at random moments would come kiss my hair or coo at Joey.

When I did turn the tv off he curled up on the couch with me and Joey and played a game he invented which involved him trying to stick a turquoise rock in my belly button. He thought it was hilarious. I usually hate having my belly button (not my belly... my belly button) touched, but I made an exception because he liked it so very much.

I would like you to know

that I almost

wrote a little quip

about expecting his hand

to get lost in the folds of my tummy

but I didn't

because,

well,

it isn't true.

I love this body of mine that has

grown and birthed two sweet boys.

I will continue to love and care for it

regardless of what I want it to be - right now

or what it once was and no longer is.

Despite feeling so yucky, I thought, "This is a sweet life."

In other news:

At six-weeks postpartum, something magical happened. I don't remember such a sudden shift with Jack (I don't remember a lot about those first few months with Jack), but with Joey, the first few weeks I really wondered if I was going to bounce back.

Now, things are still hard. I'm still tired, but life seems manageable. The shift was so dramatic that I wondered if there is some hormone flush that happens at that point, or if that is how long it takes your body to acclimate to a torturous sleep cycle... or if there is some other physiological change that happens exactly at that milestone.

It could be that, or it could just be that I have mastered a few essential life skills with two babies:

• I can pack the diaper bag, get them out the door and load them into the van all by myself.
• I can nurse Joey and walk, if needed, to retrieve destructive or noisy toys from Jack.
• I can bathe both boys at the same time.
• I can leave the house without my hair fixed and not feel all that bad about it.
• And I survived Andy being gone for a full four days... joyfully!

In addition to the practical skills, I think I've let go of some pretty harsh expectations I've had for myself (see above, tummy side note). Everyone in my life loves me, regardless of how put together I look when go out, or how much I do or don't get done, or even how much more frequently I struggle to be patient with Jack and fail.

I am loved.

And recognizing that has lifted a load.

I know that there are many good days and many hard days before me. But this evening, I am once again enjoying the journey. God has good things in store for this family and I am so happy to be where I am.

What's Bigger Than A Baby Step?

Today, my friends, today reminded me what it is like to have order in my life.

Two days ago, after a complete meltdown, I decided that even though everybody says that after a baby you should rest, give up having a routine, and just let things go until you are feeling like getting around to it, that there are a few things that I need to get in place as soon as possible to keep my emotions and a healthy sense of self in a safe place.

That was an incredibly long sentence. I will try and avoid that in the future.

Let me back up a bit.

After Jack (albeit, a year after) I was in the best shape I have ever been. Since having Joey, and assessing the "damage" my body sustained through pregnancy, I have been more self conscious and spiteful toward my body than I have in a very long time.

It got to the point that I actually canceled a few get-togethers and have dreaded social gatherings (usually my lifeblood!) because I haven't wanted to be seen. I fear scrutiny and feel as if I have failed the universe because I am not back in my single-digit size six weeks postpartum.

Besides feeling disappointed in my body, I struggle with disappointment in my parenting. I loose my patience a lot more often. I forget to feed Jack meals and instead let him survive on spoonfuls of peanut butter and pretzels. I criticize myself each time I have to make a choice of which child's needs to attend to first. At several points in each day, somebody just has to cry for a little bit because I can only do so many things at once.

Combine a crushing sense of discouragement when I look in the mirror, with the brutal realization that I am not as "good" at parenting two kids as I imagined I would be. And you have a recipe for disaster.

In a wave of emotion, Andy sat on the bed with me and listened to me lament all the things I disliked about myself in this season. The way I summed up my emotions to him was to say, "I miss feeling like I have it all together." His response was so insightful and honest and wise that it totally redirected those dark emotions. He said, "You never feel like that. You think you did, but let's be honest, you never do."

Deep Breath.

True.

I look back and paint a picture of myself and my life and the timeline of Jack's infancy with bright and cheery colors. I remember the good and even add a little shimmer to make it sound better... but the reality is, there is and always has been something I am adjusting or fearing or looking forward to.

That truth released me from the trap of all the things that I am not, or thought I should be, or thought that I was. It moved me to look at the things that are draining me and decide which of those things are simple realities of this season that I will wait out, and which of those things I can change.

My first step was to get back to the gym.

This morning I took both boys to the gym. I felt so accomplished! After a few hiccups with getting the boys settled, I ran on the treadmill and then did some ab work and lunges and all those work-outy things.

I did it.

I made it to the gym... in the morning even.

And tomorrow I will go again.

And the day after that, I will go again.

Over the past several years I have learned a few things about myself. And one of those things is that my physical health has an enormous impact on my emotional self, and my emotional self has a profound impact on my spiritual health, and then it circles back to my physical self...

So, after a day of working out, I was motivated to try a few other things that I have been trying to figure out how to mange with two kids. Tonight Jack and Joey had their first bath together! It was terrifying and I was afraid Jack was going to dump water all over his wee brother, but he didn't! We made it!

And THEN, after both boys were bathed, they were both IN BED at the same time. Understandably, Joey will wake up in a few hours and need to be fed again, but still, both boys are in bed at the same time!

Each of these moments combine to make me see that yes, indeed, at some point, either three weeks or three months, or three years from now, order will be restored.

And in three weeks or three months or three years, there will be another set of challenges that I am sorting out and fears that I am facing and accomplishments that I am celebrating.

So friends, let me end by encouraging you. Whatever you are trying to sort-out or fix, or are just wallowing in, it will end at some point. Decide what you can do to make it better and recognize what will need to be endured. Take a moment to be real with yourself and make sure you aren't looking behind and painting a picture that is a little more glittery than it was when you were living it. If you are wishing for what was or what should be, stop. Look at and enjoy and live what is right now.

You can do it.

I will celebrate each moment with you!

Sunday Brunch

You may have surmised, from my last few posts, that this whole two-kid thing is difficult.

Let me clarify.

It is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Okay, now that we have that cleared up, I am ready to celebrate a beautiful morning.

Andy woke up with Jack and took care of breakfast (a cookie for each of them) and entertained Joey until he said that he was hungry, at which point Andy brought the wee babe into bed with me and I snuggled and nursed and listened to Andy and Jack laugh and talk about Dora's latest adventure.

When I finally got out of bed we all played on the living room floor. Andy kept one hand busy bouncing Joey in his seat and the other tickling Jack. I laid on the floor in the midst of the sweet chaos and participated in the classic Jack sandwich game with Andy.

Then I made a shopping list and Andy took Jack to the store to get ingredients for a yummy Sunday brunch (because a cookie does not cut it), as well as coffee to fortify us for the day ahead.

As I made vanilla french toast with homemade blueberry syrup and whip cream...

Prior to going to the store

Andy and I had a long

heated conversation

about the merits of

whipped cream

vs.

cool whip.

He reviewed my list before

leaving, in case he had any questions

and when he got to the

"whipped cream"

he said,

"You mean Cool Whip?"

As if the two were interchangeable!

Never!

Despite his arguments that

Cool Whip is the greatest invention of all time

he brought home whipped cream.

Can you imagine desecrating

a beautiful fruit topped french toast

with COOL WHIP?!

Thankfully the Aichele house did

not witness such an

atrocity today.

Jack sat on the floor and read a book to himself (he has been doing this almost every day and it makes little bursts of joy bubble up inside of me)

Did I tell you that when

I was pregnant with Jack

my first totally out-of-control,

no-foundation-in-reality,

breakdown

happened when I was home alone

one night and I started thinking

about Jack as a little

elementary-schooler.

I got a vivid picture of him in my head

talking to Andy and saying,

"Dad, can you ask mom not to read to me anymore?"

And I burst into tears!

I have always looked forward to reading

to my kids

and the thought

(though totally imagined)

of him not wanting me to

was crushing.

So, now that Jack loves to be read to

and to read on his own,

I am truly delighted.

... Back to the story of this morning.

As I made french toast and sipped my iced coffee, Jack charmingly entertained himself and Joey rested peacefully on Andy's chest. The house was quite, in a restful, soothing way and my kitchen smelled delicious.

It was so many simple and small pleasures, rolled in to one 30-minute window. I felt refreshed by the break from the frantic, sleep-deprived fog that has seemed to hold me captive for the last month.

I realize that later this afternoon there is a good chance of the fog rolling back in, but that is why I put my baby down and let Jack run around unattended in order to capture the moment in writing.

When I look back on these difficult days, I will see that in totality, they have not all been painful or exhausting. Tender and delicious moments have peppered themselves throughout. And some day soon, the sweet will begin to overtake the sour and once again, I will find myself smiling at the prospect of each new day.

And now, Joey is frantically screaming to be held or fed, or some mystery something that I don't know about... so, back to the order of the day... but at least with a full tummy and a calm heart.

On my way

Okay, so I realize that my life, and therefore the content of this blog, is suddenly very small.

The first few weeks of bringing a baby home are so consuming, and so emotional, and so taxing in a variety of ways.

But that is what I am living right now, and I am determined to survive it with at least a smidgen of grace and beauty.

And by beauty I mean internal peace. I can't even attempt glamour at this point. I won't bore you with my self-esteem woes at this point, but friends, woe is me, at least my self-image!

Despite my weight, despite my eyes that refuse to stay open and are perpetually red rimmed and watery, despite my daily ride on the emotional roller coaster... I can say whole heartedly that each day is better than the last.

I can see windows of opportunity to spend time with each of my boys individually. I can see progress in my understanding of who Joey is as a one-month-old and how to bring out his best (meaning, get him to sleep longer at night). Jack is mellowing out, after a very aggressive and moody couple of weeks and I am learning to better edit my emotions.

With each dip and rise in the day, I am learning to listen to the true thoughts and discard the fears and guilt and stress that wander through my mind as side-effects if sleepless nights.

I am discovering new strength as I trust the Holy Spirit to guide my decisions and I am reveling in small accomplishments. I am learning to weed out needless work and to pour the energy I have into the elements of my life that really matter.

Each day I remind myself that I'm going to be okay. That my husband will still love me even if I'm a little crazy right now. That my children will not be ruined for life if I am not capable of anything more than turning on the TV and preparing frozen meals and that at some point, I am going to sleep for more than an hour at a time.

...

At this point Jack unplugged the computer (Actually there were about two more paragraphs following this, but they didn't get tucked away with the autosave). My momentum was lost and I have no idea what I was going to say. I can't think of a clean way to wrap up my thoughts after such a long break (I started at around 10 and it is now 4) so, just know, that I'm surviving.

I'm not quite to thriving, but I expect that I'm on my way, and that is a wonderful feeling.

It's Mine, All (Almost) Mine

Today marked a very special occasion.

I took myself out for my first, post-labor run/jog/walk. Mostly walk.

It felt sooooo good. I did a long route, knowing that I would be slow and sort of lumber along, which I did.

But I didn't care. It just felt good to move!

It also was wonderfully soothing to my spirit to be totally alone for an hour and to have my body to myself. My dear husband kept both boys and cheerfully sent me on my way.

I'm not sure if he was so cheerful about sending me out because I had been a total brat a few hours earlier and he didn't want to deal with me, or if he was so cheerful because he knew that I would come back a much more pleasant person. Probably a healthy dose of both!

I'm celebrating the accomplishment of getting out alone as well as getting active. I definitely feel like both are worth celebrating, as they take a lot more effort that they ever had before.

In order to leave Joey home, I had to pump a bottle for Andy to have to feed him. Have you ever had to pump? If you have, you know that is one of the worlds most awful activities.

Except when it means

that you can look forward to a

full night of sleep

(minus having to get up and pump)

because your darling husband

said, "If you have bottles for me

I'll get up with Joey tonight.

I think a full nights sleep would

be good for you."

Ohh... sleep. How I have missed you!

After effusive thanks, I said,

"Wow, I must have been acting

so terribly lately for you to offer

to get up in the night!"

Yes, it is true.

I have not been my most charming self

the last few days.

So sorry honey!

Okay, another side note:

One of the things I love

the very most about Andy

is how quickly he forgives.

I am not always nice

or perfect.

Each time I mess up and have to

apologize, he treats the

offense like it is no big

deal. He forgives me

and moves on with life.

What a gift!

I learn so much from him!

DISCLAIMER: If you are a man, I suggest you stop reading at this point. Not that I anticipate any men read this, but if you are a man and you do happen to read this, come back tomorrow for a more gender-friendly post. The following uses words like "lactating" and other referrals to breast milk and breast feeding. I'm pretty sure you don't even want to know...

Only slightly more awful than pumping, was my experience with purchasing a sports bra to accommodate my lactating self.

Earlier this week I went to get a new sports bra. I took about a million, okay, it was only four - because that is all that they had in my size, options into the fitting room (as well as a million pairs of black workout pants, which is not much of an exaggeration).

I made my selection for pants and moved on to the top-wear. The first bra option was pretty good. The second was a pass. The third... oh wait. I can't try on the third one because milk is POURING from my chest.

I didn't even know that could happen! Despite having recently fed my wee child, somehow my breasts decided that in the fitting room of Sports Authority was an appropriate time to gush fluid.

I'm so sorry if that is gross to you. It IS gross. But it HAPPENED. Don't worry, I checked all the garments to make sure I hadn't sullied any of them. I quickly dressed myself and covered my spurting chest. I took my pants and the bra that was adequate, and left the store.

While it took a little extra work and embarrassment to get ready to run, it was oh so worth it! I'm sure my legs will be tired tomorrow and I'm sure that it will continue to be a struggle to make exercise work, but Oh! I'm willing to do the work!

And now, with that happy reflection, I am off to another happy part of my day, resting my head on my pillow, with the freedom to keep it there the next time Joey calls for me...

Andy, I really do love you. Thank you!

Adjusting

I forgot how much work a newborn baby is.

And I had no idea how difficult two children would be.

Don't get me wrong. Joey is incredibly sweet, and I am excited to see how Jack develops as a big brother. It is just that right now the needs for my involvement in both of their lives is incredibly intense.

Joey requires lots (as in almost constant) of feeding and burping and soothing and diaper changing.

Jack requires lots of supervision around Joey, affirmation that he is still my baby too, as well as lots of feeding and diaper changing.

Jack is giving me

more and more

cues that he is ready for

potty training.

I can't even begin to

fathom how to go about

that process.

Oh dear! We're in for a fun

couple of months,

that is for sure!

To cope with the new pace of my life I've shut off my thinking for a few weeks.

I'm not sure if it is a good tactic or not, but so far it seems to be working. It allows me get through each day without an excessive amount of tears or guilt and a reasonable energy level for the next day.

At some point, I realize that I will need to return to making intentional decisions about parenting, housework and all the other components of my life, but for now, I think I'm allowed to coast.

I have had a few meltdowns at random points.

Andy has been INCREDIBLE

as a support and encourager.

My favorite part of becoming

a four-person family has been

seeing Andy develop as a husband

and dad.

In each new season of our life

I realize anew what

a valiant and godly

man I have married and

I am

SO

THANKFUL!

I think the biggest thing that stretches my emotional capacity and causes me to freak out - meltdown - overreact - whatever you want to call it is the feeling that I had just got myself and my life and my child in order and now I have to start all over.

I felt so confident with Jack and had a system for most things: showering, planning meals, spending quality time in God's word, bedtime... but now everything feels upended, like I need to reconstruct each component of my world to accommodate or make space for our new little bug.

The task seems daunting.

But I keep reminding myself, it took almost two years to get to that point as a mom of one, I can't be hard on myself if it needs to take that long with two children. The reality is that two years goes by amazingly quickly when you are talking about kid years.

So for now, I will go about my days, not thinking too hard, or being overly critical of what I can or can't do. I'll remember what I'm moving toward, but be content if my steps are small. I'll smile as often as I can, try and say "no!" to Jack as little as possible, and extend Grace to myself and those around me.

My life will never be the same, but that doesn't make it any less sweet.

A Party

I considered throwing a last minute party tonight.

A pity party.

But I didn't think anyone would come.

And I don't have anything to wear.

And truly, I don't want to wallow in my failings or the shortcomings of the world around me for too long.

But some nights, it is oh, so tempting.

After making it through my entire first pregnancy with a smooth, unmarked belly, I confidently entered the previous eight months with little fear as to the state of my skin. But 38 and a half weeks into this journey I discovered tonight that I have been marked forever as a mother.

I have stretch marks.

I have never in my life worn a bikini.

I didn't think it was ever an option until I started training last year for the triathlon. When I found out I was pregnant the second time, I told myself that after this baby that would be my goal... to wear a two-piece swimsuit sometime before I turned 30.

Side Note:

The stipulations on this

is that it has to be to a beach

that there is no chance

of running into anyone

that I will ever see again in my life,

so basically,

it means Andy needs to take me

some place for vacation.

Now, that dream will never be realized. I am too white (and too opposed to tanning) to even think about exposing my midriff if it is crisscrossed with permanent purple lines - telling the world that I went overboard with the cookies and "let myself go" as I grew my second baby.

To amplify the horror of discovering the permanent marks of my hugeness I have an adorable and hunky husband who has faithfully got himself out of bed and to the gym five mornings of the week and now is sauntering around the house with a physique like Hugh Jackman. I'm NOT EVEN JOKING.

Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to be married to a man who has a body like that? The pressure!!! I'm not sure I can take it.

When I try and explain this dis-ease with what my body has become, everyone says, "Oh, you're pregnant, don't worry!" But that is the problem. I'm not going to be pregnant forever (please, please, please let this be true!). Soon I won't have the excuse and I'll have to come to terms with what my body has become and own up to each soft spot, bumpy thigh and flabby arm.

Okay, you are probably thinking right now that I am extremely prideful and self-indulgent and more than a little pathetic. I know that about myself. I'm working on it.

In the past few weeks I have gone up and down through the days - either having revived confidence in my ability to take on TWO little guys instead of just one or being totally overwhelmed by the idea that in a few short days (hopefully less than that!) I will be once again be consumed with a newborn.

I felt like I was just getting the hang of life as a mom, and thriving in it, only to be sent back to the beginning. I have no idea what Joey's entrance into our lives is going bring. I pray it will be joy and sweet moments, but I also know that those will be tempered with long nights, heavy diaper bags, and extra laundry.

Truth be told, I'm scared.

A second truth be told: I am so ready to have Joey that everything feels traumatic. I'm hot all the time and none of my shirts cover my stomach. My back hurts and my feet hurt and I don't care at all that my hair is never fixed because really, what is the point right now.

So I know that stretch marks aren't the end of the world, and I know that Joey's arrival will be wonderful, and I know that my body and emotions are taxed to a point that sometimes just results in meltdowns. Founded or not.

This one is probably not founded, and I am aware of that.

But sometimes, a girls just needs to get a few things off her chest.

Please hear me say that.

I know I'm being silly and dramatic.

But doesn't it help sometimes

to just go overboard?!

Let it also be known that after discovering my scars I also had half a bath of water dumped on my by a feisty toddler, had broccoli thrown at me by said toddler, made dinner to have it hot when my honey got home from school, only to discover that I got my days mixed up and he was going to be an hour later than I thought and what was once a nice hot Welcome Home! Dinner will now be a stale, reheated, not so exciting dinner.

Sooooo...

When all is said and done, I guess I did throw the party after all. Thanks for coming. Now to get down to the business of picking up the place. Parties make such a mess!

Guilt Free Days

Some days I wake up and just know.

I know that it is a day for lounging and snuggling and ignoring the dishes.

There are things I do every day that are sort of my "job." I feed my family and keep the house in a reasonable state (I really try, but am not always successful). I make sure we have toilet paper and milk. Those things sound like job to me.

But there are other parts of my role as a housewife and mom that are just as essential that, on occasion, get forgotten or put off in favor of the to-do-list tasks. The reading to Jack, listening to his cute sayings, laughing really hard with my husband and letting my attitude and demeanor build an atmosphere of love, peace and celebration in my home.

So this morning, when I awkwardly pushed myself out of bed (I am not very graceful these days) I made a mental declaration that today the fun, the restful, the beautiful things of life get to win out over the usual activities that keep life running smoothly. If the dishes pile up in the sink, I'm okay with that. If Jack and I play really hard and his toys end up in every room, well, I'll just pick them up tomorrow. When Jack snuggles in to nap, I'll cozy up too with a book or a paintbrush, or just my pillow.

I love my life. I love that I have the liberty to enjoy each day, the luxury of putting chores off. I love my home and my family.

Sigh.

While I sit typing this, the sun is shining, Jack is balanced on what is left of my lap and I am sipping homemade iced chai.

In a few minutes I'll hit "publish post" and then I'll pull up videos of babies sneezing on YouTube (Jack's favorite thing to watch). After that, we'll see. The possibilities of the day are endless.

If you haven't decided what you should do with your day yet, declare it a day to just ENJOY, guilt free. I bet you won't regret it!

Discovery

So far, everything is as I expected for the dinner swap. Ooooohh I love it so!

The additional benefit is that my housework has been done a good two or three hours before it usually is because my kitchen stays clean all evening. I've discovered that I need some sort of evening hobby, or at least a trip to the library to keep myself occupied. I've forgotten what to do with free time!

In Jack news, the smart boy discovered a trick that will serve him well all his life. He learned how to cover his ears.

On Sunday we went out to dinner with a couple friends after church. While we were waiting for our food to come, Jack was getting wiggly. We were asking him to do all of his tricks to keep him occupied (which currently are adorable animal sounds. The rooster and turkey being my favorite).

I'm not sure how he first figured it out, but at some point he folded his bendy baby ears over and then looked at us with surprise. He kept doing it, and kept making silly faces. It took us all a while to figure out what was going on.

We finally got it when a song he liked came on and he started dancing in his seat. Then he would cover his ears and listen with his cute little head cocked to the side. Then he would dramatically uncover his ears and make a face of amazement.

I tell you what, I never knew how entertaining little people can be! And who would have thought that I would celebrate the day he learned how to cover his ears?!

Oh the wonders of motherhood.

Dry

My last week has consisted of diapers, diapers and more diapers.

My little baby Jack has been unwell.

I won't go into details, because they are gross, but I will tell you that I have not had an uninterrupted nights sleep for about 7 days, I've given an average of two baths a day, needed an average of three to wash off the vomit and poop that have covered me and done about 104 loads of laundry.

My creativity is sapped and my energy is all going into just keeping up with Jack and my house.

Sigh.

Luckily energy and creativity can be restored by sleep and good company. Now, I just have to figure out a way to fit those things in.

...

Oh yeah, and we're having a boy!

That's My Cue

I've never been strict about nap and bed times with Jack.

It might be because I'm not super regimented anyway, but it might also be that his cues for needing sleep are so obvious that I've never had to question when he needs rest and when he doesn't.

I thought you might like a virtual glimpse of some of my favorite cues that Jack needs a nap.

THE CLASSIC: eye rubbing, yawning, head shaking... other cutesy baby-like signals that mean, "Oh! I'm getting sleepy."

THE MANIC: This one involves wildly running from every corner of the house, usually laughing in a shrill, slightly crazy, fashion. His movements get really fast and he doesn't stay in one place very long.

THE CLUMSY: This one often works in conjunction with The Manic. Jack starts to trip over things or run into walls and then get up and laugh it off, only to stumble just a few steps later.

THE CRANKY: Usually involves wanting to be picked up but not wanting to stay picked up, some sort of physical outburst and general unpleasantness.

THE NAUGHTY: My least favorite (but it makes it the easiest to put him in his crib). Not to be confused with Cranky. Sometimes when Jack needs a nap he lets me know by going around the house and touching every single thing (over and over and over again) that he knows is off limits. If I find myself saying, "No! Don't touch that!" forty-five times in a row, I usually move the little fingers into their little bed.

THE SILLY: This one is the newest and, in my opinion, the cutest. This is when anything I do is just hysterical. We can be sitting on the couch and I just open my mouth and all of a sudden Jack is in a fit of giggles. Oh, you can't even believe the sweet sound of real, true, delighted laughter coming from that little boy. I usually drag this one out as long as I can. When he stops laughing and starts staring into space, I know we're done.

THE OBVIOUS: This one is pretty cute too. And it makes it an easy decision to switch into sleeping mode. Jack will be playing and having a grand ol' time, when all of a sudden I look over and he is laying motionless on the floor. Eyes open, toy in hand, but totally still. Yep. When a 16 month old boy chooses to lay still, you know he needs a nap.

I feel pretty lucky that Jack is such a good communicator about when he needs rest. It sure makes it easy to have people babysit or to tell when it will be a two nap day instead of one. Just one of Jack's many fine qualities - of which I am trying to remind myself of as he proceeds to drive me crazy this week.

Any advice on making it through the food throwing/hair pulling/hitting/saying "no" a million times/climbing on the table/trowing the phone in the toilet/running out the back door and down a flight of stairs while my back was turned for half a second phase?

Anyone?

Real Life

Do you ever wonder about the real lives of your blogger friends?

Not the charming stories they tell you or the quippy remarks they make about small incidents in their lives.

No, I mean their REAL lives.

Well, if you have ever wondered, let me give you a glimpse at the less than glimmering moments of my last two real days.

REAL LIFE FRIDAY:

Wake up and prepare to host a second toddler all day. 8-5.

Don't bother with a shower or even real clothes. Andy's sweats and the t-shirt I wore to bed are good enough.

Welcome baby #2 and reassure mom that I adore her child and am delighted to have him again.

Hear Andy open the door. Also hear rustling of plastic bag... did he bring me something? Yes he did! An iced chai and a cinnamon roll! Yay! I love this man!

Uneventful day. Well, in terms of grown up events. Baby #2 has the runs, there is the usual hitting, crying, saying "NO!" a million times. The major accomplishment of the day was Jack eating a real lunch (not just graham crackers or fishy crackers and a banana) including ALL of his vegetables. I was thrilled about that (there is no sarcasm in that statement, it I really was so excited that I squealed).

Both babies take a mid-afternoon nap and I decide to join them.

Wake up at 4:50, ten minutes before mum is supposed to arrive. Check my phone. Three new texts!

Mum says traffic is horrible and she missed the first bus. She will be at least 45 minutes late.

Bummer. That means I won't be able to go cheer Andy on at softball tonight.

Andy is home and both babes wake. Andy rummages around the fridge and asks if the steak in there is for dinner tonight.

I answer in the affirmative. A few moments later I realize that he is asking me if I will make dinner NOW instead of after his games. Ug. I hate telling him no and if he is hungry I feel like I'm not doing my job well, but I have two babies who just woke up and need attention and only 30 minutes before he has to leave.

I hand Andy a baby and scurry into the kitchen to see what I can make happen in 28 minutes and counting.

Hair flying everywhere. Getting sweaty. How does Rachel Ray do it?

Both babies in the kitchen and unhappy. What is Andy doing? He was supposed to entertain the kids while I cook.

Andy emerges from the bedroom in his softball uniform. I ask him to change baby #2's diaper. Don't hear a response and prepare to do it myself. I won't send my charge home with soiled pants!

Andy intercepts the diaper and sets to work. I hear him open it up and groan. Expecting a full one I peek around the corner. I see nothing. Andy calls me closer... "Honey! Look at this! It is gross!" I've seen a million gross diapers. I'm sure it is nothing. I walk over. And laugh. It is one little dot... really no bigger than my pinky nail... and he asks me to wipe it! Seriously?

Seriously.

I rush back into the kitchen and try and pull the meal together. I know Andy won't have time to eat it, but I offer to send it in a tupperware so he can eat it on the road (his friend was driving). As I'm pulling things off burners and mashing the potatoes and bouncing Jack on one hip Andy comes in to say he has to go. He's going to leave without his food?!

Fighting.

Andy leaves four minutes later with food in hand. Most of it. He refused the potatoes saying he didn't want to eat them in the car. I wish I had known that before I started making them. Both of us are still steaming.

Baby #2 gets picked up.

Send Andy text apology and explain why I got so worked up. Receive apology back. All is right with the world.

Put Jack to bed.

Tidy up.

Collapse on the couch.

Andy comes home.

More apologies.

Take a shower.

Go to bed.

REAL LIFE SATURDAY:

Usual wake up routine.

Highlight of the morning is story time with Jack. We curl up on the couch. He brings me a book, I read it, and when we finish he crawls off my lap, finds the next book of interest, brings it to me and crawls back in my lap. Ah!

Receive text message from Andy asking if it is okay if he watches the fights at a friends house.

Start to cry.

I hate telling Andy no! He works so hard, I want him to have a chance to play. But I work so hard too. When do I get to play?

Consider sending back a text message that explains that I don't feel like I can handle another (three for the week) night of putting Jack to bed by myself and spending the evening in isolation. Instead stick with the simplest answer, "I would rather you didn't"

Text tumbleweeds roll.

Know that I have not sent the answer he was hoping for. The night is going to be lame at home anyway if he wishes he were at the fights. Try to come up with a plan that will give me some relief and still let him go.

Send a second text message offering to send him off the the fights with well wishes in exchange for and extra $X0 (dollar amounts have asked to remain unidentified) and a few hours of solo shopping time BEFORE the fights.

Andy replies: "DEAL!"

Shoot! I should have asked for more money!

Exchange several phone calls with Lizzie, trying to coordinate an outing for the morning.

Hurriedly throw on some make up and tame my hair, not with a shower, but with bobby pins. Dress Jack and set off with Lizzie and Jack for a few late-summer yard sales.

Acquire four brightly colored and uniquely shaped vases for a quarter each.

Return home from sales and hang out with Lizzie while Dane and Jack play and Jason grocery shops.

Take Jack upstairs and put him down for a nap.

Crawl into bed and pick up the Chronicles of Narnia. I wonder how many times I have read these stories.

Hear Andy come home. Pop out of bed, brush my teeth, grab my cash and all but run out the door.

Grocery shopping is last on my list before going back home, so I choose two stores that always have something and are near my desired grocery location.

Find a pair of earrings I love... but nothing else. Not even anything worth trying on. The line is ridiculous and not worth standing in for a pair of earrings.

Try second store. Nothing. How disappointing.

Consider crying but don't. Not worth it.

Less than an hour and I've exhausted my options for shopping (in this location). But I'm right next door to the grocery store so I give up my dream of a carefree afternoon and get back to mommy work.

Wander the aisles. Forget things. Wander back down the aisles.

Grab the juice we like and watch helplessly as two extra jugs come with the one I grabbed. One is safe and the other is spilling all over the floor and is splashed all over my leg.

Look around for an employee to notify, but don't see anyone. So I walk away. Well, it probably looked like I walked away, but I was really going to look for someone to alert at the end of this aisle.

Is everyone staring at me?

Am I leaving sticky, dirty footprints that will lead them straight to me, the juice spilling culprit?

I turn around and look back at the scene. An employee has arrived. I imagine him coming up to the mess and accosting the nearest shopper, "Did you see what happened?!" All the fingers point to me as I try to inconspicuously move on. But I feel his eyes staring. He knows it was me.

Continue shopping.

Also knock a box of pancake mix off the shelf and have a discussion about nectarines with a stranger.

Spot the juice-incident employee at the end of this aisle and try to avoid eye contact.

Pause at the magazine rack. Thumb through the hair cut magazines and see the next perfect style. But refuse to pay $10 for a magazine.

Pay for groceries and load them in the car.

Drive home.

Discover an empty house. Andy and Jack must be down with Dane and Jason.

Lug groceries up stairs.

Put away refrigerated items and leave the rest until tomorrow.

Go down to visit everyone.

Send Andy out for dinner.

Come back upstairs when dinner arrives.

Realize I didn't find ALL of the refrigerated items when I first brought the groceries in. Stick them in the fridge and hope they don't go bad or make us sick.

Eat dinner.

Yum.

Bid farewell to Andy with an unintentionally snappy remark and apologize again. I've been having to do that a lot lately.

Jack helps me unload the dishwasher. Which is mommy speak for making the job take twice as long and creating a second mess that is twice as big.

Text a few friends in hopes that they randomly have a free evening. Receive all "no" answers, but well wishes. Feel very lame.

Play with Jack.

Bath time for baby.

Stories, brush teeth, sing, pray. Put him in his crib.

Sigh.

Survey all the chores that need to be done and decide they can all wait. Possibly forever.

The two pieces of chocolate in the freezer and HGTV are calling my name.