One-Third....And One Turd

Someone around here is one-third of a year old, or 4 months for those of you lawyers who are bad at math (not judging, I totally had to double check that number with my fingers).

I cannot believe this guy is 4 months old. I can't remember what life was like before him. It's cliche, but it's so true. The week before he was born, I had a mini-panic attack at the thought of our family dynamic changing from 3 people to 4. But Ryan has brought so many blessings....and, yes, "blessings" is code for "factors that contribute to Mommy's sleep deprivation."

I left the office early today to meet my mom at the doctor's office for Ryan's 4 month check-up. I picked the kids up in the parking lot and we headed inside. Here's a little tip: if you have a 4 year old boy, do NOT bring him to the doctor's office. In fact, just don't bring him anywhere.

Jacob has a Playschool toy barn that opens up so you can put farm animals inside. Except all the animals have been evicted and it is now the home of 27 matchbox cars. I thought it would be the perfect toy to bring to Ryan's check up. Once again....I was outsmarted by a 3 year old.

The doctor walked into our exam room and began to ask me questions about Ryan's development as she checked his ears. Jacob decided that it would be an ideal time to dump out his cars.

"How has Ryan been eating?" The doctor asked

KABLAM. CRASH. Jacob dumped out half the cars.

"He eats about 5-6 ounces every 4 hours, I explained."

BOOM. CLANG. There went the other half.

The doctor looked at Jacob and asked if he could please play with his toys more quietly. Ooops. My kid was being loud? I didn't notice. I honestly don't notice noise anymore. Like when the TV is on all day and you stop hearing it. "Kid noise" has all become a background hum. And thank goodness for that. It's a mommy defense mechanism.

"Tell me about his sleeping patterns." The doctor continued.

"Well...." I began.

ZOOM. ZOOM. CRASH! ZOOM. ZOOM. CRASH!

Jacob stopped dumping out his cars and was now sending them flying off the metal chairs. They were landing anywhere withing a 4 foot radius, crashing into walls, chairs, and other ill-fated toy vehicles.

"Jacob, please stop." I told him. He snuck three more zooms in before the threat of time-out convinced him to stop. I turned towards the doctor again when Jacob suddenly jumped onto the diaperbag and I heard an ominous "crack." What was that? I lifted up the diaper bag to discover my expensive prescription sunglasses....in two distinct pieces.

"I'm sorry mommy! It was an accident!" Jacob said quickly.

"Jacob! You need to be careful. You broke my glasses!" My poor, poor glasses.

"But I said it was an accident!" He replied indignantly. In Jacob's mind, that phrase has the power to turn back time and undue things. Like when you call someone a dirty skank and follow the insult up with "just kidding!" 

By then, it was time for Ryan's shots. No matter how many times I've taken my children to get shots, as a mom, it just never gets easier. The nurse had me hold Ryan's arms while she pinned his legs between the exam table and her body. Jacob huddled protectively near his brother.

 As the shots went in, Ryan's face morphed from gummy smile to shock to horror in the matter of 1/5 of a second. But, thank goodness, it was over quickly. Ryan was such a champ and was back to his happy self not one minute later. We left the doctor's office having increased our wealth by two sparkly band-aids and one Spiderman sticker.

Finally I loaded up the car and we were off! While driving, I kept having to push my broken sunglasses back up my slippery, sweaty nose every 2 minutes, but we made it home with at least half of my dignity still in tact.

Then we snuck in some extra cuddles before dinner.

P.S. If you're wondering why pictures of Jacob are so scarce, it's because I ask him nicely to please get in the picture ....which, apparently is just so unforgiveable that it prompts him to act like a pint-sized jerk. Oh Threes, you sure make Twos look like a breeze.

Weekends Refreshed

The best part about going back to work is that weekends have become 5 times more awesome. When I was home with kids all week, the days all blended together. I was so out of tune with the calendar and no one day had any significance, in and of, itself.

But now...the weekends mean everything. The countdown to Saturday begins as early as Sunday night before I drift to sleep. Every Friday is a reason to celebrate.

The weekends aren't always adventure-packed. In fact, they are sometimes pretty ordinary. And they always bring a list of chores. But, when I have my two little sidekicks in tow, I feel full and whole and happy.

It's been hard having less time with my kids each day. But, the time we do spend together is so much richer. The mentally and physically exhausted stay at home mommy who couldn't even go to the bathroom alone has been replaced by a more appreciative, patient, and focused mommy. When I'm home, I'm holding Ryan every chance I get. I'm laughing at Jacob's usually tiresome toddler games. I'm taking the time to properly answer Jacob's numerous and nagging questions. I'm cooing at Ryan and smiling, even through his fussy times. I'm smiling because, whether he's happy or not, I'm just thrilled to have him in my arms again. And, it may just be my imagination, but the kids also seem much happier on the weekends now than they did before.

Ryan and Jacob were wonderful this weekend. Yesterday they got to play with their cousins at a nearby outdoor water park. The weather was perfect and the kids got along really well. There is NOTING better than watching your children laugh and have a great time.

Today, we tagged along on Daddy's trip to a car show. Daddy looked at cars while we ate ice cream, collected free stuff, soaked up the sun, and enjoyed being together.

While there were many cool cars on display, we seemed to garner more than our fair share of attention. I can't tell you how many conversations I've had with strangers all because of (1) this awesome wagon, and (2) the two cute kids sitting in the wagon.

Jacob loved sharing his wagon with Ryan. He was pretty excited that it could fit the both of them. He wanted to show Ryan everything we saw, including the snail that was making a home in the bottom of the wagon. Ryan watched so nonchallantly as his brother set the slimy snail onto his chubby leg.

Jacob and the lolipop from grandpa

Someone is too cool for school with his backwards hat!



Ryan was so amazing today. When we were at Costco, I picked him up out of his carseat and carried him around in my arms. He looked up at me happily and began to chatter away. He smiled ALL DAY. No joke. Even during his fussy time. As the evening wore on, he got a little cranky. I let him cry for a couple minutes before swooping in to pick him up. When I began to rocked him in my arms, he stopped crying. He looked up at me with big, happy eyes and gave a shy little smile before burying his face back into the crook of my neck and falling to sleep. He ended up going to bed past his bedtime, but he was laughing and smiling up until he konked out in my arms.

He's going to wake up at 3am tonight, just like he does every night. I'm very much looking forward to cradling him by my side as we drift back to sleep together.

Being Patient

I think I have baby fever. It's a very odd thing. My baby is only 4 months old but I just can't wait to have another one. I can see how having babies can be addicting, you know, if it weren't for the getting fat, nausea, end of pregnancy discomforts, going under the knife, and 4 months of recovery before I can even do a freaking sit-up.

If it weren't for finances, I would be ready to have another one. Right now. As I rock my baby to sleep each night, my heart aches for one more. I recognize that that seems silly- why can't I just enjoy what I have, right? I just can't explain it. I dream of laughter-filled evenings. Being attacked by a flock of children early in the morning. A table full of hungry mouths telling me stories about their day all at the same time. I love the noise, the chaos, the feeling of being outnumbered that comes with larger families.

I can't help but be excited about another baby and beging to wonder who will he or she be? It's similar to looking at baby Ryan or even Jacob and wondering who will they be in one year? Two years? Ten years? We are still building our family and there may still be some blank spaces in our family photos. How weird is that? Our kids will mean the entire world to us from here on out and it's weird to think that we do not even know them yet.

While I'm anxious for one more, I'm also nervous. With Jacob, we got pregnant right away. But I went through some grueling infertility before we got pregnant with Ryan. Before it happened to me, I had never even HEARD of secondary infertility. I was totally devasted each month that passed by and I didn't see a posivite pregnancy test. It was a silent pain that ate away at me. It made me resent those around me and it made me think things that I am not proud of.

Unless you go through it, you can't truly understand the pain. It's much different than really wanting a baby but, for some reason or another, deciding to wait. It's different because the worst part of it all is the fact that you have absolutely no control. No choice, no decision. You just hold your breath and cross your fingers. And when you are unsuccessful time after time all you can say is, "Why me. Why again? WHY?" And nothing can take away the pain that comes from yearning, but empty, arms.

I'm not sure what to expect a third time around. Will it be easy or will it be hard? If it will be hard, I'm not ready to face the emotional blows. Things are too good right now. I don't want to throw pain in the mix. I want to enjoy what I have.

And right now that includes, sweet cuddles, wide gummy smiles, excited coos, and sleeping side by side every night from 4am to 7am.

So, maybe I'll just focus on enjoying things the way they are right now. Then, when Ryan is a little older, I can slowly dip into the unknown once again.

Penguin Hatching

It's weird, the stuff that sticks in a child's brain.

One time, I mentioned to Jacob that cheese has protein in it (no idea if that's true or not, but it was a ploy to get him to eat some cheese so he can grow big "like Spiderman!"). Now, when I refuse to give him Doritos for breakfast, Jake tells me he would like some cheese because it has protein. Then he usually asks me if a spider can bite him so he can turn into the superhero.

One time, last year, when he had a fever and didn't eat all day, I put some crackers by his bed for a bedtime snack. Since then, it's amazing the number of times this kid has had a "fever" right before bed time. Pretty sure we're marching into world record territory.

The other day, I told Jacob to get dressed. He marched up to me and said, "Mommy, stop freaking out." I gave him THE LOOK. Then he said, "Freaking out means going crazy." I guess his daddy taught him that one.

His memory is amazing. He frequently shares miniscule details from events that happened over a year ago. Things that I barely remember. I'm worried that he will start remembering the times I stuck him in his baby swing so that I could sit on the couch in my pjs at 3pm, eat candybars, and watch Desperate Housewives. Oh the shame....

He can recall the time he ate a hotdog at the park back in 2010. But, I tell him FIVE times to pick up the 230 pennies in his bed and he conveniently forgets. Sheesh.

Everytime Jake watches a new movie, we notice that unusual phrases begin to pop up in his vocabulary.  For example, "You've got to move it, move it!" is from Madagascar. And then there's my personal favorite "Who gives a rat's butt!" He picked up that lovely phrase from Mr. Popper's Penguins, which he has always pronounced as Pimper Pompers Penguins.

Since watching Pimper Pompers Penguins, he's also picked up the habit of sitting on his baby brother's head. When I ask him what he's doing, he tells me he's a penguin and that's how penguins hatch their babies. "Mommy, I'm just keeping him warm. He's too bald."

Well, I can't really argue with that....

My poor, bald Ryan DOES kind of have an unfortunate resemblence to a baby penguin.

But when he dazzles us with his smiles, we can forgive the baldness. Cue the shameless excuse to share pictures.

-Ahhh-mazing BBQ Chicken

Adapted from Cook's Illustrated- my favorite cooking mag.

Ingredients:

Chicken breasts, cut into large bite size pieces
1 teaspoon course salt
2 slices of bacon
2 Tablespoons paprika
1 Tablespoon + 1 teaspoon of sugar
BBQ sauce (we love Baby Ray's)
Skewers (If you are going to use wooden skewers, soak them in water for at least 30 minutes)

1. Rub course salt over the chicken pieces. Cover the chicken pieces and refrigerate for at least an hour. 

2. Cut the bacon into large pieces. In food processor, process the bacon until it forms a paste.

3. Combine the paprika and sugar in a bowl and add the bacon paste.

4. Take the chicken out of the fridge and rub the paprika/bacon mix into the chicken pieces really well. My bacon paste didn't rub so well but I coated the chicken as best as I could. Then skewer the chicken. I took the pieces of paste that kept falling off the chicken and stuck it between the chicken pieces on the skewer.

5. Heat up your grill. When it's really hot, add the skewers. Cook for 5-7 minutes on one side and brush with BBQ sauce. Flip the skewers over, brush other side with bbq sauce, and cook 5-7 minutes longer.

SO FREAKING GOOD. And I'm not even a huge bacon fan....

Grateful

Every morning before I push myself out of bed and each night before drifting off to sleep, I try to come to terms with my new routine.  It's been a harsh reality, this whole concept of giving your children (especially your baby) to someone else for 40 hours a week.  It's been hard to accept the fact that from Monday through Friday, I get only 3 awake hours each day with Ryan. I try to cherish those hours as much as I can. But I know it will be hard for a while.

As I struggle with this new routine, I am both sad and extremely grateful. Every time I turn on the radio, it seems, I hear a story about loss. When I scan news websites, I don't have to go too far before I come across a tragic headline.  People all over the world are prematurely having to say goodbye to those that they love. But the stories that make me stop and think twice involve the tragic loss of a child. Since becoming a parent, this is my greatest and most consuming fear.

So, I'm stuck between two feelings. One is a feeling of sadness and self-pity at having to spend so much time away from my kids. The other is a feeling of uneasy relief and thankfullness for each day that I get to spend with them, no matter how little that time is.

While we don't always get to live the life that we want, we should always be thankful for the life that we have. For each precious

and not-so-precious moment.

Blood & Other Stuff

Humor me, please. Let's play this little game called "Choose Your Own Adventure."

It's 5:03pm and you're peeling out of the office driveway. You roll down the windows in your 97 Subaru Legacy, slide your shades on, and crank up the news radios (it's so hip). You've got one hand on the wheel and you slink down, low into your seat. For the 35 minutes it takes you to get from the office to "Grandma's house," you are a free woman. No kids. No job. Just you, the road, and a thousand other drivers sitting in sweltering traffic.

You pass the farm-themed mattress store and nod at a 7-foot cardboard cut-out of a smiling holstein cow. From there you A) turn down a side street and park at the nearest happy hour advertisement or B) stay on the road and keep your appointment to pick up the kids.

If you chose Option A, this is what awaits you: An hour and a half of sitting in a cool, cushiony booth with your heels kicked off, slinging back $3 margaritas, and turning every verticle structure into a dancing pole.

If you chose Option B, your evening looks like this: holding a screaming, poopy baby, in the middle of a kitchen strewn with the contents of 5 empty grocery bags, using one hand to apply pressure to a geyser of blood coming out of your hysterical son's finger, and using the other hand to tend to dinner which has just burned to a freaking crisp.

Guess what I chose?

When I walked into the house tonight, I was greeted by a wonderful smell coming from my crock pot. I had filled it before I left this morning, anxious to try a new recipe and to experience the magic of the crock pot. (i.e. "I'm too lazy to actually cook, so I'll throw a bunch of randon crap into a pot and let it simmer all day.")

I picked a screaming, unhappy Ryan out of his carseat and walked into the kitchen to investigate. With much anticipation, I pried the lid of the crock pot and discovered this:

Can food BURN in a slow cooker? Is that even possible?

At that point, Ryan was ready for a bottle and a nap. When he realized I was not complying with his wishes in a timley fashion, his screaming started up again. Right at that moment, I heard a shrill cry from the living room. I assumed it was Jacob, being horribly frightened by a tiny lady bug. Jacob ran into the kitchen, warm tears streaming down his face, and pushed an index finger towards me. As he did so, droplets of liquid landed against my arm and cheek.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

His index finger was covered with the stuff. It oozed and bubbled from a gash on his finger and dripped all over the floor. Jacob was absolutely hysterical. This made Ryan more hysterical. With the baby on my hip, I rushed to grab a paper towel and apply pressure.

The entire time I was doing this, I consoled Jacob, "It's OK. It's just a tiny owie. There's barely any blood." Meanwhile, I'm said to myself. "OMG, look at all the blood. Is his finger going to fall off? Do I need to go to the emergency room? Try not to faint!"

We walked to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood behind us. I washed up his finger to discover that all that blood was really just coming from one cut on his finger. And, despite the oozing blood, it didn't look deep or all that serious. I convinced Jacob to let me put a bandaid on it. Then I set him down on the couch to calm down.

"WAAAAH," he cried, "It still HURTS mommy! It HURTS REALLY BAD!"

"How did you hurt yourself?"

"WAAAAAH. I [sniffle] DONT [sniffle] KNOOOOOOW! IT HURTS!"

"What did you do?"

"WAAAAAAH. I CAN'T REMEMBER [sob]"

"Where were you when it started to hurt?"

"I [sniffle] WASN'T [sniffle] PLAYING WITH THE FAN" He threw his head back and howled some more.

I looked over at the fan and saw that two of the protective grates had been pried apart just enough to slip a 3 year old finger through.

"Jacob, did you stick your finger in the fan?"

"[sob] YEEEEEE-AAAAAH [sniffle]. WAAAH, IT STILL HURTS."

I tried so hard not to laugh or look amused. "Jacob, you know you're not supposed to play with the fan!"

"SO-RRRRY. WAAAAH"

"Will a popsicle make you feel better?" I asked. The hysterical crying stopoed and was replaced with silence. Jacob was thinking.

"Oh sure." He said happily. "But I want a blue one please. Only the blue kind can make me feel better."

The healing power of the popsicle. Who knew?

After Jacob calmed down, I finally got around to feeding Ryan. Poor guy, it's not like he can compete with blood and hysterics.

Before I knew it, it was 7pm and I was starving. It finally sunk in that my dinner was a big pile of char. I thought about throwing in the towel and making a run for Slurpees at the 7-11 or hitting up the McDonald's drive-thru. Instead, I dug through my groceries and decided to make the dinner that was on the menu for tomorrow night.

And it was fabulous. Well worth the blood and char.

Cedar Planked Salmon

And now, after putting the kids to bed, washing the dishes, and doing a load of laundry, I'm too tired to even care that I just found dried blood all over my Boppy pillow. And on my elbow. And on the bathroom floor.

Tomorrow, I'm choosing Option A.