Looking Back

So the first day of school has come and gone. I've been such a slacker with this little ol' blog here. I wanted to share these pictures with you though because I think they tell a sweet little story. About a sweet little boy who overnight went from a baby to a kindergartner. And his Mama who trailed behind him with a camera on the walk to school the very first day.

He pointed out everything along the way. And made a point to walk at least five paces ahead of his old mama.

There were birds. And dogs. And flowers. And trees. And....and....
But he stopped to pose just before we rounded the corner to the big school.
And he saw all the other kids holding their old Mamas hands. And he asked to hold mine.

I didn't want to ever let go.

Finally he made it to his class and sat there waiting on the bell. We'd already said good-bye as me and my camera made our way out. But I made a big mistake by looking back. And I didn't see a big boy with a cool new Star Wars backpack. I saw a 7 pound baby. Because it really was just yesterday.

It really was....

Come On Over....

to my other home on the web. I'm still here! Just been a little busy. Hoping that all two of you will come over and check out my new "official" Mommy, Esquire website (www.mommyesquire.com) that I've set up with my best friend from law school....what's better than one Mommy, Esq (you might ask yourself)? TWO Mommies, Esq. of course!

I'll still be posting poop stories and various and sundry embarrassing stories about my family here. Including some great new photos so stay tuned...

But bookmark my other site too and tell your friends about it. It's all about fun. That's how we roll....

The Writing on the Wall

"They" have told me time and again how fast it goes. I haven't believed them. Because usually it's on a day when I'm overwhelmed, sleep deprived, exhausted, frustrated, impatient or downright delirious...sometimes all of the above. "They" are those moms who've been there. And to them it's all a vapor now. They say "enjoy it"...."it goes too fast"...."believe it or not you'll look back and wish for these days again...".

I've found it hard to believe.

But slowly I'm seeing that it's true.

This one starts school in August. I wish I could push "pause" and make it all last just a little longer. Every time he curls up in my lap with those long gangly legs and stinky big boy feet wrapped around me I wonder how much longer he will want to....how much longer 'til it's not cool any more. So I gather him up in my lap the best I can and thank the Lord for every moment.

For as long as it lasts....

Scrubbin' Bubbles

Bobbing for Toilet Paper

I've said it before but I'm really starting to mean it....if Stuart had been number one, there wouldn't have been numbers two or three. Probably. More than likely. I've also said before that he is the sweetest baby of the three...the most loving....the most snuggly....but he's also the most unpredictable. And not in a good way.

We've had a dog the entire time we've had children. Which means we've had a dog dish with food and water within reach of all children at all times. No one else has ever bothered Poopsie's cuisine beyond the initial curiosity. And then along came Stuart. He ate Kibbles-n-bits before he ate Cheerios. He has dipped his hands/feet/elbows/head in the water dish and laid down in front of it to slurp. He's dumped it upside down and sloshed around in it. He's dumped his blueberries and strawberries into it, creating a nice fruit flavored spritzer for Poopsie to enjoy on a hot day. He's very creative. And thoughtful.

He's also fascinated with toothbrushes. If you can't find your toothbrush around here, chances are Stuart found it first. And there is a real possibility that said toothbrush took a swim in Poopsie's water dish. Or the toilet. The other source of Stuart's amusement.

The other day he was running around the house laughing with a wet head. We knew he had not just been bathed so we naturally checked the dog dish. But all was dry. So we followed him as he took off down the hall laughing, ran straight into the bathroom, dipped his head in the bowl, flung it out sending a shower of (I pray only) water around the bathroom, and darted off to run in circles laughing hysterically.

Not sure I'll survive the "terrible twos" take three....

I'm Finished Now!

It's been a while since there's been any potty talk so here goes....

I'm trying to figure out at what point should my children be potty independent? As in....they no longer feel the need to announce what they are about to do and then sit there after they've done said deed and holler at the top of their lungs over and over..."I'm finished now!!!" And wait for me to come running and complete the job for them?

Not too long ago as one of them...I won't mention any names but he's the oldest....was sitting there hollering at me that he was finished....I walked to the door and told him in no uncertain terms that he was a big boy and I will no longer be assisting him in that area, metaphorically speaking. He threw his head back, let out a tremendously frustrated wail and hollered "Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!"

What in the world??

I didn't ask him to pluck out his eyelashes. To rip off his fingernails. Or even to clean his room. It was just a simple request. To WIPE HIS OWN BUTT!!!! Come on!

I've been changing diapers and wiping butts for nearly SIX years non-stop, people. SIX years. So here's the deal..... If your legs are long enough for your feet to touch the floor when you're sitting on the pot, you're big enough to do the deed yourself in its entirety. Know what I mean?

I thought I'd made progress because this particular nameless individual went into the bathroom without making any public service announcements first, and shortly thereafter I heard a flush and realized that I'd not been beckoned to assist. I was pleased. So I continued cleaning up the kitchen with a proud smile on my face until he ran into the den, buck naked and yelled "Hey Mama....(as he turned around and leaned over)....did I get it all?????"

AAARRGGHHHHH

I'm finished now!!!!!!!!!!

in my next life....

this is all i want to do...
not run through sprinklers.... but take pictures of little folks who do.
and take more pictures of little girls with big blue eyes.

'cause I just can't get enough.

lessons in patience

As I sit here in the recliner recovering from my thyroid surgery, I've had a bit of an epiphany watching...of all spiritual things...Evan Almighty. These past couple of months....dealing with job loss, health issues, uncertainty, insecurity....I've prayed. A lot. Mainly I pray for patience because by nature I'm most impatient. I want what I want when I want it and on my terms. But I've been reminded here lately that this life isn't on my terms. And it's not about what I want. Especially if what I want is different from what God wants for me.

In this silly movie, God (aka Morgan Freeman) asks Evan/Noah's wife:

If someone prays for patience, do you think God gives them patience? Or does He give them the opportunity to be patient? If they pray for courage do you think God gives them courage or the opportunity to be courageous? If someone prays for a family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings? Or does He give them opportunities to love each other?

Wow.

How many times have I asked God to give me patience...to increase my faith....and look at how he's giving me the opportunity to be patient. And faithful. And depend on Him!

So these are times of opportunity. Not burdens. Opportunities. So today I'm going to thank God for giving me the chance to be patient...to be still...and to know who He is. And wait on Him to do what He will.

And try not to rush Him.

Always a Trip

We are on vacation. We left home last Friday, Georgia bound with a van full....a van full of children, luggage and the next door neighbor who hitched a ride to visit her son. After driving and visiting for six hours, I was ready for a break. We deposited Ethel at her final destination around dinner time, about two hours outside of Atlanta and decided to make it a fiesta. We found a fun little Mexican restaurant and watched in amazement as Catherine devoured an entire taco, rice, refried beans and a gaggle of chips. Our amazement over that taco dinner would not be shortlived.

We hit the perimeter in Atlanta right in the middle of the worst weather this side of Katrina that I've ever seen. All hail broke loose if you know what I mean. The van was pelted with golf balls as a multiple tsunamis poured over the roof...we hit pool after pool of water, hydroplaning from one side of I-75 to the other. By the time we reached our exit and pulled safely into my brother's house, my knuckles were white from gripping the door handle and I had blisters on the bottoms of my feet from hitting the brakes on the passenger side. After being pried out of my seat, I stumbled into the house asking for some Zanax with some vodka to wash it down. I was a mess.

We let the kids run wild playing with their cousin and finally got everyone calmed down and in a bed. But Catherine started complaining that her tummy hurt. It was somewhere around 11 pm and she was clearly in pain. I dug through my portable medicine cabinet and saw that I had packed something for every ailment from a scrape on the knee to constipation, but had nothing for the tummy ache (of course). So Andy offered to run out and find something for her. Since this was Atlanta, I figured he'd run to the super Walmart just around the corner and come back with some Children's Pepto or something like that. When he returned (nearly an hour later), all he had was a pack of adult chewy Rolaids, some saltine crackers and ginger ale.

She was still writhing in pain and didn't want to put anything in her mouth. "Come on sweetheart, " he said, "take some of the medicine...the Dr. said you'd feel better."

"You saw a Dr.?" I asked.

He shook his head no.

"A pharmacist?"

Again, negative head shake. "The manager of the pack-a-sack said this is what he gives his kids when they don't feel good."

The manager of the pack-a-sack. Mmmkay.

Well we found out later...as in sometime around 1:30 am...the reason she didn't want to put anything in her mouth. And we got to experience the El Mexicano especial all over again...although it wasn't nearly as enjoyable coming out as it was going in. UGH And remember, friends...we were in SOMEONE ELSE'S HOUSE!!!!! So I spent the next three hours scrubbing, cleaning, disinfecting, and washing sheets.

The first part of our vacation has been a trip. We are now in the mountains and I'm hoping I have nothing to blog about the rest of the week. I sent Andy, William and Catherine into Helen a while ago so I could enjoy a quiet cabin while the little one naps. If they return wearing lederhosen I'll be sure to take a picture. And, of course, blog about it because...well...that would just be funny.

I could use some funny.

System Failure

We don't have a lot of time for TV around here but I rely on my DVR to record my weekly crack fix, American Idol. The only show I really care about. And this season I'm especially addicted because I love, love, LOVE watching that weird haired, black nailed, ear pierced soprano singing Adam. I can't WAIT to see what he's going to do each week. And after putting the kids to bed the other night, I settled in to see.

I zoomed through the commercials and even some of the performances....and finally got to my little weirdo....saw his baby pictures....cracked up at his dad saying he didn't really like sports as a kid but loved to play dress up (shocking)...and then....

IT WAS OVER.

My mouth dropped open. I jumped up and all I could do was point to the TV, with my jaw on the floor, gasping for breath like I was hyperventilating or something....

I stood there like that for what seemed like hours and then realized.....

PATHETIC. Simply pathetic. My reaction to missing Adam's performance was way more dramatic than my reaction to hearing that Andy lost his job or North Korea had launched a nuclear missile.

I'm still not sure I'm over it. Missing Adam that is....

child’s play

he tries to act tough…

he said he wouldn’t smile…

but then something was funny

really, really funny.

nothing like an old swing hangin’ from a tree in the front yard….

the same tree that serves as home base for a game of hide and seek…she counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 15, 20….

“ready or not here I come!”

come with me.

Overheard Recently

William: "Hey Mama, when will I be snack mom again?"

Me: "Hmmm...hard to say...a few weeks maybe?" As if such a bizarre question begged a serious answer, much less one that required much of a thought process.

William: "Well, I certainly hope that when I'm snack mom again I bring Pizza Pie Puffs. 'Cause they are goo-oo-oo-d."

Me: "Good luck with that."

Looks even weirder to actually put it in print.....

The Boy With the Ugly Shoes

The kids had school pictures today. It was no surprise. They've only been sending notes home for weeks. They even put little stickers on their backs yesterday that said something like "Hey Mom and Dad - don't forget my pictures tomorrow!" Cute. Anyway....last night I picked out their outfits, we ironed everything and spent most of the morning rush hour getting bows in place, shirts tucked in and making sure the remnants of their pancake breakfast were nowhere to be seen on faces or clothes.

As I was running late and rushing to get out of the door, I told Andy to go put everyone in the car. I grabbed backpacks, my coffee and purse and ran outside to get in the van where my three looked so cute and charming in their sweet outfits.

I pulled up at school in the drop off line, opened the door and started herding them out, one by one. First Catherine, who looked so pretty in her smocked dress and English sandals. Then Stuart in his cute little jon jon and fisherman sandals. Then William, looking like such a big boy in his sweater vest, khaki pants and....

What the....

"WILLIAM! You have on CROCS?!?!?!?!"

Ugly plastic blue and orange Auburn crocs with a green frog jibit or jiblet or whatever the heck it's called stuck right in the front hole.

I looked at the teacher and with a calm sweet smile pleaded, "Please ask Mr. Mills not to photograph my child's feet. Mmmkay?"

I called Andy as I pulled away. "You won't believe this," I stated. "All the trouble we went to ironing clothes, making sure everyone looked cute for their pictures, and William gets out of the van with those nasty CROCS on! Can you believe that???"

"Um, yeah well, um, I guess I told him he could wear them."

{Blank stare}

I quickly concluded that in the grand scheme of everything we are dealing with at the moment, this was really not a big deal. Definitely not a mountain. Just a molehill.

An ugly molehill. But still.... a molehill.

Sigh.

Hey...Where Did That Rug Go?

You know how sometimes you can be sleeping and feel like you're falling off a cliff and then you wake up? And realize it's just a dream?

Ever had that feeling but realized you're really awake?

I'm going to try to keep this as light as possible since this is supposed to be a fun blog. I guess I haven't posted much lately because, well, I just haven't felt really funny. I'm trying...it's just that my sense of humor kind of got ripped out from under me along with the rug.

You know all those awful stories on the news about all those people who have lost their jobs? Well...we've become one of those people. Not both of us. Just one of us. Remember that movie "Mr. Mom"? We're sort of living it right now.

I shouldn't say we haven't laughed much lately because that would be a lie. Actually, we've laughed quite a bit. Some days just to keep from crying. Others because it's all a surreal humorous scene some mornings as I rush out the door to a meeting while pancakes are flying across the kitchen and Daddy's running interference.

The thing is.... some days I think he's doing a much better job at home than I ever felt like I did. He is patient. Very very patient. And fun. He told me the other night that he looks at this as a kind of gift....a rare and unexpected opportunity to spend time with the kids that he would have never had. He is truly amazing me through this whole horrible thing. And I just love him all the more for it.

My biggest struggle here is the not knowing. The wondering. And the uncertainty. The fear of the unknown. And the fear that we're down to one life line. But then again that's one more than so many people have right now.

I have a childhood friend who ends each of her blog entries with a "Thanking God for... " thought. So I'm going to borrow that from her.

Thanking God today for life lines, unexpected gifts, and each other.

Say what?

I was at spinning class the other morning.   After a self imposed several month hiatus from spinning (and the whole gym thing in general) I returned this past week to find the Golden Girls are still there.  And I'm convinced they are trying to sabotage my training.

In the middle of the class (this is an important point because it's at this stage that my legs are starting to feel like noodles) the instructor apparently decides to motivate us.  Here's what she does:

"Come on people!  Whew!  That's it.  Keep those legs going.  Don't stop!  Easy circles, now!  Whew!  Lookin' good!  Don't slow down!  Whew! Move those legs!  Imagine that you have poo on your foot and you're trying to scrape it off.  Move those feet!  Faster....keep moving....the poo is stuck!  It's stuck on your shoe!  You're trying to scrape it....it's on there good!  Scrape harder people!  You don't want poo on your foot!  It's fresh poo.  It stinks.  Bad!  And it's all over those shoes.  Keep scraping!  Whew!"  On and on it went.  For the entire six minutes of the song.

Are you freakin' kidding me?

The first time she said it I thought...did she just say poo?  Nah....but then, yes!  No kidding. 

I looked over at the Girls and I swear they were laughing at me.  Because I was so distracted by all the poo talk that I could barely peddle.  I just sat there...stationary.... with this look of confusion on my face. So they were beating me.  And they thought it was funny.

Then it hit me.  They put the instructor up to it.  I'm sure they did.

Saboteurs.

Does This Look LIke a Jerk To You?

So this morning I was getting everyone's breakfast in front of them and I put a banana on Stuart's tray, which he immediately tossed onto the floor. "No!" Mmmkay. Let's try juice. I set his juice down. It quickly followed the banana to the floor.

So I picked up the banana and the juice, set it on the table and decided to do my best to ignore the foul, offensive little person in the highchair.

Catherine walked by, saw Stuart's juice on the table and handed it to him. "Here you go Sewart," she said as she put it on the tray. "NO!!!" he yelled as he catapulted it once again to the floor.

"Catherine, that was nice of you but he's being a jerk. Leave him alone."

A jerk? Did I just call my 21-month-old a jerk? Surely she wasn't paying any attention.

About that time William walked in the room, saw the juice on the floor, picked it up and, as he was handing it to his brother, Catherine grabbed his arm and said, "No, Weeyum, don't... Sewart is being a JERK!"

Nice, Mom. Real nice.

I mean, really.

Going Green....Literally

Originally I thought this post would be about my five favorite things like my sister girlfriend (a fellow Mommy, Esq.) did on her blog.  Then I thought about thanking the Academy (or in this case my cousin) for my recent award and then passing it all forward (which I will soon....).  

But instead I wanted to tell you about my new thing just in case you run into me and I look a pale shade of celery.  See, one of my truly favorite possessions is my Vita-mix.  We went to one of those home and garden shows about 7-8 years ago where they were doing demonstrations.  You know, where they show you how incredible it is that this fancy blender can pulverize a 2x4 in less than 10 seconds, just in case you're ever in the mood for a speedy wood shake.  But seriously, I stood there in amazement watching them make soups, juice raw foods, freeze ice cream, and (the thing that sold me) make peanut butter from....just peanuts.    It was SO cool.  And even though my first semester of law school plus books cost less than this thing, somehow I managed to convince Andy to let me buy it.

I promise it was one of the best things we ever bought.  And the Vita Mix people are NOT paying me to talk about this (although I wouldn't be insulted).

When our babies came along, I started making my own baby food.  Anything we ate, so did they.  I just pulverized it.  I mean....have you ever read the ingredients in a jar of babyfood?  Shouldn't bananas contain only ONE ingredient...say, BANANAS?  There certainly shouldn't be ingredients in a jar of bananas that I can't even pronounce.  So I just did it myself.  Because I thought I did it better than they did.  And my babies loved it.  

But lately I've been reading a LOT about these green smoothies.  You can get your entire serving of fruit and veggies in one drink.  And they have all these antioxidants to go to war against all the garbage we put in our bodies.  It's a good thing.  So the other morning I made up a batch and took it to Andy.  I wouldn't tell him what was in it until he drank it.  So he did.  And he said it wasn't bad.  And I smiled because he usually picks around the cucumbers in his salad but he drank one that morning!  And never knew it.  Until now.

But I'm a little concerned because he told me the story of someone he knew once who drank so many juiced oranges and carrots that they turned orange. 

Things that make you go hmmmmm.

I think a subtle shade of mint wouldn't be so bad....

Does this guilt make my butt look big?

When I left the law firm a few years ago, I did it mainly because I felt so guilty about all the time I spent at work compared to the minute amount of time I was spending with my...then... one child.  I wore that guilt suit around on a daily basis and it became nearly unbearable when I was in the middle of a trial...in the middle of the holidays....and I went a full week only seeing him from over the top of his crib in the middle of the night.  I knew I had to make a change ~ and I did, although I eased into staying at home slowly, still going into the office daily but only for a few hours.  

When Catherine came along, her health necessitated me being home full time.  And full time it was.  I found myself suddenly with a toddler and a newborn with a bad lung who couldn't be exposed to sickness.   Remember that movie about the bubble boy?  That was us.  The bubble family.  For the better part of a year we didn't go anywhere.  ANYwhere, people.   I was like Nell when I finally got out of the house...screaming in an indecipherable language and running around in circles flailing my arms.  At least I had on clothes.  Talk about going from one extreme to the other.

Then came Stu.  I was actually working on getting things in place to go back to work when I suddenly craved hot dogs and fell asleep at the wheel at 2pm one afternoon running to Target and realized that I was pregnant.  I didn't even need a pregnancy test to tell me that.   Shock and awe, that was.   So I made the decision to just stay at home a little longer because...I mean let's face it....would you have wanted me working for you?   What do you think were the chances I'd ever even make it out of the door in the morning?  And I didn't see my firm agreeing to me working between the hours of 1 and 1:45 in the afternoon.

So I wouldn't give anything for the years I had at home with my babies.  I joke and jest and probably embellish a lot on here in the name of creativity, but I truly loved being at home.  But the flip side of that was the fact that I felt...and here's that word again... guilty for not working and using my education and hard earned skills.   So when the opportunity came along a few months ago to return to work in a much more flexible and less stressful capacity, I jumped on it.   Because I was afraid to let that boat sail.  So I jumped back into the world of working mommyhood.  

Only now I find myself peering over at three sleeping babies instead of just one.  But only sometimes.  Thankfully.

I do have it good.  I know I do.  And trust me, I am more than thankful to even have a job in today's world.  I could quickly make you a list a mile long of all the pros of working.  But sometimes in that deep dark place inside I wonder if a mile long pro list outweighs the one con...

missing them.

So here I am feeling guilty once again.  But I realized the other day that when I was home full time I felt guilty.  Not only about not working, but I'd get to the end of the day and feel guilty because they watched too much TV....because I yelled at them....or they only ate goldfish for every meal....or I let someone get away with something....or punished someone too severely....or because I should have read to them more....or...or....or.... and on it went.

So I'm thinking that as Moms maybe we need to accept the fact that once you give birth, that cloak of guilt will just become part of your wardrobe.

Maybe I should learn to accessorize.  With grace.  And mercy.