Day 30 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for books. I began devouring them at an incredibly young age and firmly believe that they have strongly contributed into make me the very open-minded, strong, confident, woman I am today.

I'm a big girl now!

Lately everything out if H's mouth has been about being a "big girl." A lot of "I can walk because I'm a big girl" and "I can do it by myself. I'm a big girl." Etc., etc.

I don't even call her a big girl. Mostly because it makes me terribly sad. Incredibly happy, too. She is growing into this incredible individual who is so empathetic, bright, loving, inquisitive, and independent. And I'm so happy to be a part if it.

But at the same time, she's right. She's not a baby.

She's currently playing the latest diddy on the piano that her teacher taught her yesterday. A baby sure can't do that!

But I won't lie. I deeply mourn her babyhood. It's like she was a baby and then I blinked. I hardly remember her being a tiny, vulnerable, non-walking, non-talking human being.

At least with B he still seems babyish to me, even though at 15 months he's technically a toddler. H just wasn't even a baby at that age. She was all ready speaking 2-3 word sentences. She had a vocabulary that included 100s of words. She was nearly potty learned.

She's a big girl, indeed, my tiny, big girl.

To be honest, it's a little daunting having such a "fast" child. Mentally, academically, even physically she is leaps and bounds ahead of most kids her age. This is neither a good nor bad thing. Simply who she is. But emotionally she is still just a 2.5 year old.

So although she has big words and beautiful thoughts and can connect with other people on an empathetic level even I don't have, she's still just two. Just my baby. No matter how many times a day she reinforces both through words and actions that she's a big girl, I'm still her momma. And I won't be fooled.

Day 29 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for alternative healthcare. A regular doctor would have told me to take a nap if I'd gone in complaining of abnormal fatigue and irritability. Or prescribed me something. Instead someone actually listened to me and was able to help me in a natural and gentle way. I am incredibly thankful.

Day 28 of thankfulness

I am thankful for my amazing little sister. She's been my go-to person most of my life, often times taking on things she wasn't quite old enough to be brought into, sharing my tears, my laughs and joys, the births of my two awesome babes, and so much more. She has always been a pillar of support and I cherish her deeply.

That's how I remember it, too!

While tucking Miss H into bed, I said to her, "I'm the luckiest Momma in the world because God gave me you."

She smiled that beautiful smile and said, "I'm not a momma, you are."

"That's right," I replied. "Remember that when you are thirteen."

Then she put her tiny girl hands on both of my cheeks, pulling my face to hers and told me, "I was born in the living room and then you were my momma. I looked at papa. Papa looked at me. And we were happy."

Yes, baby girl. Yes, indeed. I think you got it right. That's how I remember it, too.

We are all happy.

Day 27 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for our shop vac system in the house (that is what it's called right?). I thought J was crazy when he wanted it, but I'm in love with it.

I want to give them all an award

Seriously.

I do not say this sarcastically, coyly, or facetiously. I mean it truly and genuinely.

I want to give all the moms dropping their babes off at H's play school an award.

They always look so put together. I know looks can be deceiving. So their nicely done hair, faces full if make up, and nice clean clutches could possibly be an illusion. A damn good illusion.

But I can't even pull off the illusion.

By the time I have to get H to school, we've been awake for a maximum if 3 hours, though often closer to 2 (yay!).

After I've been abruptly woken from a sleep if sorts, I immediately have two toddlers crawling all over me, jumping in my stomach, standing on my face, tugging my shirt up or down, determined to attach themselves to me. I finally drag us out of bed, trudge into their room to bring clean clothes downstairs. I always have the brilliant plan to take everything we need down with me, so I don't have to go up and down all morning. It never works.

I change diapers, throw diaper laundry from the night before into the dryer, and start on breakfast. By the time I've corralled kids into their seats with green smoothies and a hot meal waiting for them, I am left with messes to clean up. B manages to wash the bathroom with toilet paper and toilet water. A few toys gave gone swimming in the potty. He's knocked every single book off the book shelf.

While helping me prepare breakfast H has dumped hemp seeds all over the counter. There is cashew butter smeared on the cabinets. By the time I return to them, they are done eating and my breakfast is left untouched (and J doesn't understand how easy it is to NOT eat all day). So I scrub them down, covered in smoothie, cashew butter in their hair. Once they are clean and dressed I return to clean up their breakfast mess.

Once I'm through with that and so close to taking my first bite of food H us asking me to play tea party with her and B us wanting a boob. So I sit down to oblige them both. When B us finally done, H insists she's hungry again so then they both end up with bananas. And the bananas end up all over them and my house.

Clean up again.

At that point I realize we have 20 minutes before school.

There us still a lot left to do.

I tell them it's time to brush their teeth and they dart to the bathroom. Before u bake it in behind them I hear H's shrill scream and "that's mine!!!" Followed by B's "no, no, no!" After I have swapped toothbrushes and they are with they're rightful owners the brushing if the teeth can begin.

Then we need shoes. And although I always make sure their shoes are in the basket the night before, they never are come the time we need them due to a certain little boys love for shoes. So then I'm on a hunt fir the purple shoes because the pink ones just won't do. And for kids who each have three, yes, three, winter jackets it never fails that we can't even find one.

By the time they've decided what toys must walk to school with us and are finally loaded into the stroller, we are close with time as it is.

I'm still in my leggings and t-shirt I slept in. Unbathed. Hair not brushed. If they are lucky I have managed to pull it into a pony tail, but even that us half assed due to the length. I obviously have no make up.

So seriously, give these seemingly put together women an award. I don't know how they do it and u think they're incredible.

And if we are being honest, oftentimes I haven't gotten a shower or clean clothes before its time to pick her up 2.5 hours later.

I want to give this momma a a genuine award. They are steller!

People annoy me

People annoy me. To quote a good friend, "people should annoy you because generally they're lame." It's true. I'm not an exception either, without a doubt I'm generally lame, too. I'm okay with that.

But what really annoys me is how people are so freaking defensive. We would rather go on making the same mistakes our parents did because we can't admit that - gasp! - our parents weren't always right. I don't get it. At all.

I love my parents. Truly and deeply. I respect them. But I have zero qualms admitting that I do not agree with the way I was raised. At all.

I'm not saying my parents are bad. Just wrong. To me. Plenty of people would agree with how they raised their children and that's cool.

Though it never ceases to amuse me how so many people - family, friends, and strangers alike love to criticize and tell me how my parenting choices are wrong. Honestly, criticize away. I feel very confident in my decisions, so others throwing their insecurities at me doesn't bother me at all. Besides, I've met a fair share of kids in my life. I see how they turn out. How confident and independent (or not). How good their relationships legitimately are (or not) with others. It's crazy surprising how many people truly believe they have great relationships with their children, both young and grown, and they have no idea. They don't. Their kids give them just enough so that they think they are hunky dory. It's more common than most realize.

Anyway, it seems that those who criticize the most, also praise the most. I've gotten a LOT of grief over the very non-processed, typically organic diet my family eats. Along with not vaccinating and breast feeding for the natural duration. Whatever. It's not for everyone. But I can't help but roll my eyes and laugh when those so against my choices can't believe how incredibly healthy my kids are. They've had the common cold once. And other than teething related illnesses, that's it. And I'm NOT a germaphobe. I don't wash my hands every hour. I let my kids eat their dropped food from the floor. They have no idea what bleach or hand sanitizer is. Yeah, I'm doing something terribly wrong.

But the best one is how I "discipline" my children. First off, the word discipline is derived from "disciple". It means to show the correct way. It is not synonymous with punish, though few people realize that. We try very strongly not to engage in punitive parenting. And we are doing so much better at it now than 6 months ago. And -surprise! - our babes are sooo much better behaved, naturally courteous, and overall charming to be around. I have more than one family member who happily tells me my children will grow up being rude, bad people. Um, yes? Because they are rude, bad children? No. They simply think all children should be spanked, yelled at, bribed and threatened. Well, obviously if you have to do those things, numerous times, they are not working. Not to mention that those are the authoritarian actions that tend to produce the best sheeple. But maybe that's the goal for some.

Children are people too. They are learning as they go. It's our job to guide them. Lovingly. Each time you hit your child you are teaching them that violence is okay. If you are bigger. When you yell you teach them that it's okay to take out your anger and frustration on other people. It's okay to make others feel bad. When you bribe or threaten you are virtually saying, "I know I haven't taught you mutual respect, only respect through fear, so I know you won't do as I ask unless I make it worth your while it scare you with punishment."

That all being said, I'm sure there are many people okay with raising their kids that way.

I'm not one of them.

Luckily, I can learn from others mistakes. I can learn from my own.

My kids aren't perfect. My girl is what they call "high spirited". I call her vivacious. She's stubborn and strong willed and very opinionated. Yes, that can make parenting her challenging at times. But I know if my goal is to raise her to be strong and loving, not to "break" her so she always shows immediate obedience, she will be a kick ass leader some day.

Children learn by how we act. How we treat them. I don't want my babes to think that violence or screaming is acceptable. I don't want them to ever think that compliance without thinking or questioning is right. After all, the Holocaust couldn't have happened if their had been more people who questioned their orders instead of just armies full of sheeple.

Yes, people annoy me. Daily. That doesn't mean I love or like those people any less. Mostly it means I don't understand their trains of thoughts or actions.

And that's okay. I don't have to understand unless someone wants me to and takes the time to explain. We all have our own beliefs and ideas and goals and wishes for the outcomes of ourselves and our kids.

Some just really annoy me. But I'm sure I annoy plenty of people too, so it all balances out.

Day 26 of Thankfulness

I am thankful to live in a town that offers lots of activities for toddlers and preschoolers during the day.

Day 25 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my first world problems. It could always be so much worse.

Day 24 of Thankfulness

I am thankful that J can and does drive through the night (we are going on 24+ hours here!) because it is the easiest on the babes.

We can all learn a thing or two from a 2 year old.

Yesterday H was full of so many words and actions that just melted my heart. Sometimes I forget she is only 2.

We took an adventure to a farm and ranch heritage museum I saw a sign for. Since the whole week was essentially the kids and I alone in a town I was unfamiliar with trying to find things to keep them relatively occupied, H so appropriately dubbed each day as an "adventure."

While we were walking to the dairy barn to watch the milking if a cow, baby B in the ergo, Miss H put her hand into mine and said, "Momma. Momma, listen to me. It's important. Do you understand me?"

"You have something important to tell me," I said back to her.

"You're my hero. I just love you so much."

I could have cried. Died.

I didn't even know she knew the word "hero".

So, smiling, I asked her softly, "What does hero mean, love?"

She didn't skip a beat as she told me, "I love you so so so much."

Yeah, I will take that. These are the moments, I tell you, that make it all worth it. That make the screaming fits and frequent night wakings more than okay. That reassure me that treating my child with respect and love instead of being an authoritarian figure who expects immediate obedience and compliance the right thing.

So we walked into the dairy barn together where H excitedly recalled our trip to the farm of the family we purchase our milk and eggs from. As she happily chatted to me about how fun it had been to see the cows there, she stopped when a lady asked the man at what age calves are weaned from their mothers.

"What does wean mean?" H asked.

"It's when an animal stops nursing," I explained.

"Oh," she paused for a second and then scooted close to me on the bench. "I'm never going to wean."

I smirked and patted the side if her botto as Eloise so calls it. "No doubt."

H was very interested in what the man was telling everyone about the dairy cows while baby B and a girl a month younger than him had a nursing gymnastics competition. I was thankful to have a kind momma face to smile at and chuckle about the hilarity of nursing a toddler.

"Do you know what they do to dairy cows when they are no longer being used for milk?" The gentleman asked his audience.

"I don't think we want to know," one mother responded as she clasped her hands over her preschooler's ears.

The man either intentionally ignored her or legitimately didn't hear her because he didn't miss a beat telling us, "They are slaughtered for their meat."

The preschooler shrieked, his sibling screamed "no!" and my sweet girl said, "oh, yum! I love fresh cow meat!"

At that point pretty much everyone in the audience laughed. Other than the appalled family. But really, what were the expecting?

Anyway, I love this age. H questions everything. She's opinionated. She loudly verbalized her thoughts. Like that afternoon when we were venturing to Old Navy and a father was yelling at his crying toddler, "Suck it up all ready! Stop crying! You did this to yourself!"

My bold girl looked right at the man as I tried to quickly usher her past and said "He is sad. Your a mean papa."

Yeah, my heart swelled with pride. What a sweet, caring girl to realize the boy was in distress. How insightful to know yelling wasn't helping. And how extremely brave and innocent to call it like it is without hesitation.

If I've never said it before, I truly hope to grow up to be as amazing as my little girl. She teaches me more about life in one day than ever I could learn from anyone else or from any book.

I adore my kids.

Day 22 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for God and my right to believe in Him.

Day 23 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for music. It's what keeps the world spinning.

Not the Thanksgiving from yesteryear

When I was small, I spent my Thanksgivings with my mom. When I was old enough to have a say, I spent them with my dad. Not because I preferred one parent over another, but because holidays were always just more homey with my dad. They were the way they were supposed to be. At least according to all the movies I've ever seen.

My older sister M and I would sit at the bar helping to make appetizers, eating as much as we made nearly. We would chop and slice and mix and stir on command from my step mom who would be preparing our Thanksgiving feast. My dad and brothers would watch football and there would usually be some marathon for a show on that we all enjoyed so we would watch that too while we just all hung out and ate until it was time for our proper meal.

Then we would stuff ourselves into a turkey coma and finish it off with a pie death. My siblings and I would usually fall asleep in the living room watching movies and talking.

Those were good times. Looking back, they were almost magical times. Other than my little sister C, I don't really talk to any of my siblings anymore. Certainly don't hang out.

Needless to say, Thanksgiving is kind of hard for me to stomach anymore. Our last three Turkey Days have been spent with J's family. The first was a lot of Turkey hopping from his parents to his friends. It was different, but enjoyable enough as I really enjoy being around his friends. Then last year baby B was baptized on Thanksgiving and H had a UTI and I was dealing with PPD. In my head, it was a miserable fiasco, though likely not half as bad as I felt it was at the time.

And this year. Well, I'm sitting in our deserted house that has been on the market for a year while J works on getting it into renting conditions. The babes are playing in appliance boxes. Eventually we will go back to his parents house for a turkey meal. It will be chaotic. But they don't do a meal time, it's eat when you please.

All of J's friends are out of town.

The babes have no idea it's Thanksgiving.

I feel like Debbie Downer, even though I don't want to be. This past week has been rough on me.

But I have so much to be thankful for. First and foremost, my beautiful nuclear family. I could not imagine my life without J and H and B. And to think that I had spent most of my life never even able to imagine them.

So maybe I lost a certain kind of Thanksgiving. Something beautiful even. But what I've gained is better by tenfold. Because it is perfect. And it's mine.

Day 21 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my utter lack of fear.

My lack of fear to travel the world; sometimes with people I hardly know or even by myself. My lack of fear to listen to my heart when I know my head is more practical. My lack of fear to parent my children kindly and gently even when it goes against everything I've been taught and all I know from others. My lack of fear to say "yes" and change my life in the most incredible of ways. My lack of fear to try anything once. My lack of fear to pee in seemingly deserted places, only to flash a train full of people. My lack of fear to ask questions. And then to ask even more. My lack of fear to say "no" and refuse to please people. My lack of fear to give burth naturally in my home. My lack of fear to lick ancient Roman ruins.

You get nowhere worthwhile in life being afraid.

Going Paleo

So a friend asked that I blog about my Paleo journey. But it is just that, a journey. I'm still figuring it out, a year later.

I had never heard of Paleo until baby B was a few months old. He had the worlds worst reflux. Even with the strongest meds at the strongest dosage, it made no difference. His pediatrician was sure it couldn't be food related or else he would have blood in his stools. But my mommy instinct told me otherwise and it was really the only time I've questioned our awesome pediatrician.

So I began researching the most common infant allergens so I'd know where to start. My findings were wheat, dairy, and soy (and turns out B is intolerant of all three!). Mostly I was sure this was the end of my life as I knew it. No ice cream???? I was fairly certain this wasn't possible.

The more research I did, the more something called Paleo kept popping up. It was a way of eating that  is closest to how the first humans ate. Meat, fruits, vegetables, nuts and seeds. No grains (wheat, beans, rice). No dairy (though some who practice Paleo believe raw dairy is okay). No soy. No processed foods. At all. Limited nightshade veggies.

I thought it sounded crazy and absurd and figured I'd just omit the common allergens from my diet. Except this one thing kept popping up.

Everywhere I turned I kept reading how people suffering from PPD had been extremely successful curing it, for lack of a better word, on the Paleo diet. (Amongst other things, people lost weight, acne disappeared, diabetes gone, etc., etc).

To be honest it all seemed too good to be true. But I bought Loren Cordain's book about the "Paleo Diet" and read it in mere hours. I was hooked. Not only did it seem like a great solution for both B and my issues, I fully understood the genuine health benefits and how this truly is the healthiest way to eat.

So I took the plunge, for the first four months I was hardcore. I didn't consume a single morsel that wasn't considered Paleo. B's reflux disappeared completely. I left the foggy, hazy, awful world of PPD. I lost 20 lbs quicker than I knew was possible (and thus became 20lbs lighter than before my first pregnancy).

I believe in Paleo. 110%.

I'm not hardcore now. My rule is if its in my home, it's Paleo. With a few exceptions. I still have coffee, though not daily. There is gluten-free pancakes and pasta made on occasion (though I rarely eat them). I do eat coconut milk ice cream and cook with almond and coconut milks, all of which are processed. My husband drinks raw milk.

When we travel all bets are off. I actually hate returning to the standard Americam diet while on travel. I feel like shit. I feel like I spend most of my time telling poor J I might be dying. But I'm also not rude enough to refuse food that others prepare. I have no issues saying my kids can't eat things that genuinely make them sick, but I feel like telling people that I don't eat xyz makes me seem like an elitist bitch. Which I'm not. I'm just concerned about my health. And my family's.

In Cordain's book he recommends going 85/15 for those who don't feel they can truly give it all up. Eat 85% Paleo each week, the other 15% can be whatever. So it makes it possible to still have your coffee or wine or ice cream, but still gives you all the amazing benefits of Paleo.

For me, Paleo is not simply a way of eating, but a way if understanding food and health. It's a way of life.

There us a ton more I could say, but a sweet baby boy is summoning my attention. Perhaps another post. But always feel free to ask questions!

Day 20 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my ability to go when I get the hankering. I was not created to stay put, and I'm thankful that I can up and go when I need.

Day 19 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for showers and washing machines. The kiddos and I are free to play and get dirty with no fears of being filthy for life.

Day 18 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for pinterest. Otherwise,  what else would I do in the car or laying in bed with sleeping babes on me?

Perceptions of beauty

My sweet little sister C and I have been talking a lot lately about how people perceive things drastically, especially across different cultures.

Needless to say, she's loving her anthropology classes. C is like a way better version of me I oftentimes feel. We share many of the same human rights passions (human trafficking, circumcision, etc). But she's probably more passionate. She is more active in actually making a difference in these areas. She's less cautious about stepping on toes. But she's also way more gentle and kind at the same time.

Anyway, our common interests makes her one of my favorite people to talk to, because even on the things we disagree on ( and we can be pretty brutal to each other!) I know she and I won't dwell on our differences or ever let them hinder our relationship. (Seriously, why can't everyone be like that - agree to disagree and realize that different beliefs does NOT mean someone thinks less of you???).

Anyway, we've been talking about the perception of beauty. Up until a mere 50 years ago or so a figure was the epitome of a beautiful body. Pretty much universally. But we've gotten very far away from that.

Whereas a woman with hips and that cute little round belly and supple breasts used to be gorgeous and attractive and a beautiful sign of fertility (which used to be a good thing) it is no more. At least not with the 21st century Anerican woman.

J says I'm perfect and beautiful and he loves my body. He said this when I was 20lbs heavier and yet to be pregnant. He said this when my belly was big and round full of baby. He said it when I felt puffy and saggy and was riddled with stretch marks and had a babe in arms. He's always said this, regardless of how I look physically (he claims this even first thing in the morning going on day 3 of no shower...).  I would say it is just because love is blind that he always tells me I'm beautiful, but J simply does not lie. So I know he truly believes it. He's not just saying this for my benefit.

Whereas on another hand certain members of my family have made it no secret that physically they do not view me as beautiful because, we'll, I have a figure and always will. (Which I'm okay with!). But then J's Hispanic mother is truly upset by how "skinny" I am. She tells J I must be sick. The babes are making me too thin. I'm not eating enough ( for those who know me, this isn't true. I'm a bottomless pit!).

To be honest, when she first started making a fuss about my weight I was a bit annoyed.

But I turned to C who was like, "yeah, isn't it crazy the perception of health and beauty between cultures!" And then I was like, "ha! Of course. Differences in cultures." Which is one reason I love C so damn much. Though she will definitely let me complain, and even complain with me, she's good at making me see things differently, sometimes how they legitimately are.

So now I kind if wish I lived somewhere where the cultural norm is to have a good layer of chub and some awesomely saggy boobs. Instead of one where we airbrush our cover models to make women and girls think that's normal and beautiful.

Ah, well. We don't get to choose our cultures. But we do get to choose our perception of beauty. And we get to choose how we teach our children perceptions of beauty.

And hopefully, my children learn first to see the beauty of ones brain and heart. Because, in my perception anyway, those are the most beautiful parts of any human being.

The new style is "baby hooker"

When Miss H grew out of infant sized clothes I was admittedly a bit sad. It was such a blatant sign that she wasn't a tiny baby anymore. Plus, I loved the cutesy-ness of infant clothes. Toddler clothes included blue jeans and that seemed so grown up.

But we made the transition. I mean, it's not socially acceptable to keep stuffing your toddler into her baby clothes, even if its got lots of adorable ruffles and you personally hardly notice that the long sleeved shirt is a bit more like a t-shirt and she can't raise her arms...it could've been a style.

Well, we are in the toddler clothes, and I figure we will be on them for awhile. There are a lot of things I won't let her wear because I'm a fun-sucking mom like that : no techno-colored smiley faces. In general, nothing that says anything (though exceptions have been made). No characters. No sequins (though I gave in an bought her the sparkly Toms...though never again!). Mostly, I just like my kids to have normal, nice clothes. I don't care if these clothes come from Goodwill or Neiman Marcus, I just want them to be cute and appropriate.

Well, I made a quick jaunt through Target today on a mission for strawberry mum-mums. I walked through the girls section as I crossed through to the baby section. I wasn't really looking through the clothes, just walking by, but it was still enough to disturb me.

Apparently "baby hooker" is the current style.

Baby hooker will never be an acceptable style in my house. I don't think I'm a prude. I wear a bikini without hesitation. I have awesome cleavage that occasionally makes an appearance. I want my children to love their bodies and to be confident with and in their bodies.

But I also want them to deeply respect their bodies. And there is just nothing about baby hooker that screams "I respect myself!". Nothing.

I dread when my sweet girl is big enough to shop in the girls section. I dread that it will be difficult to find her appropriate clothes. I dread that I will not have taught her to respect herself enough.

The fact that this will ever be an issue speaks volumes about our society. I mean, clearly there is a demand for this type of clothing. That's deeply disturbing.

What happened to little girls looking like little girls?

Day 17 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my education. Both formal and self-learned. It is the only thing no one can ever take from me and it has the ability to take me anywhere in life.

No more kisses from grandma...

So I have a cold sore.  Yay,  fantastic.  Not.

Miss H noticed it and asked me how I got my 'ouchie'.  I explained it was a cold sore.  But she was persistent and wanted to know how I got it.

So I told her the truth.  My grandma kissed me when I was young and voila!  I got cursed with cold sores for life.

Lucky me.

H's response?  'I am never letting my grandma's kiss me!  I don't want ouchie on my lips!'

Smart choice,  girl-o,  smart choice.

Except none of your grandma's suffer from cold sores...

Day 16 of Thankfulness

I am extremely thankful for dvd players in the car.

Day 15 of Thankfulness

I am so thankful for the amazing ladies at the YMCA who play with my children so I can get some sanity...err, exercise.

Day 14 if Thankfulness

I am thankful for the Internet.  Some days it is my only connection to the outside world.

Passionate about....

I always hated when you had to tell people your interests, or more specifically, your passions while in grade school. Mainly because I never really had any. Other than maybe writing, but that always seemed too dorky to admit. But it seems I was destined for dorkiness (my phone auto corrected dorkiness to surliness...it's probably a sign...).

Because now I would say I am pretty damn passionate about parenting. And most would say that's incredibly dorky. I mean, how can you be passionate about something that seemingly everyone does?

But I am.

And maybe that makes sense. Why there was never a career I could see myself doing for the rest of my life.

I know a lot of people can have a career and be a steller parent at the same time.

I'm just not one if those people. I'm a perfectionist. I have to do everything 200%. There is not enough me, time, or energy, to do both.

But I can at least do one thing and do it awesomely. And for me, that's being a parent. It's my "career" and though I didn't even know it was what I was truly passionate about until it fell into my lap, I am.

I love my job. I'm passionate about my job.

I fucking rock at my job.

And that's enough.

Day 13 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my husband's reliable employment. We may never be "we'll-off" but we will always have food and shelter and clothes, and we are so fortunate for that.

There is no such thing as Santa Claus...but maybe there should be something?

Today at the Y a lady asked H if she was getting excited for Santa. Miss H stared at her blankly and finally answered, "no."

She has no idea who Santa is.

I have conflicting views and feelings about Santa, the tooth fairy, etc. The thing is, we don't lie to our kids. This seems to really surprise people. I'm not sure why, though. I feel like that's just a natural thing not to do. At least for me.

This includes all those little "fun" childhood lies. We don't teach the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus. Doesn't mean that they don't get stockings or Easter Baskets. We haven't really discussed the tooth thing yet, but we've got time. We just don't say that Santa filled their stockings.

I'm not against Santa or any of the other childhood characters. It's not like we don't read books with Santa or anything. Well, I guess we haven't. But I am not opposed to doing so. If she wants to visit Santa at the mall, I'm not opposed. I'll happily teach her about the real St. Nick, and tell her the stories of Santa that other children are lead to believe. I would never for a millisecond lead her to believe that people who teach these stories to their children are wrong or bad. But more like religion. Not everyone shares the same religious beliefs, and that's okay. Not everyone shares the same Santa, Easter Bunny, etc., beliefs.

For me it's all a matter of the lying. I remember always thinking as a kid that if my parents were capable of lying to me about Santa, what else were they lying about? I had a hard time truly trusting adults as a child. I viewed them all as liars. Even after I was old enough to comprehend that lying about Santa was for fun, not meant to hurt anyone. And to be honest, it wasn't like finding out Santa wasn't real was traumatic for me. I'd never been a huge believer anyway. It was that people were lying to me that had the lasting impact.

I don't know how I'm supposed to knowingly lie to my children, but then expect them to tell the truth. I mean, can I really tell them that it's okay for Momma to lie, but not them? Wouldn't that be confusing for them? Obviously it was for me, but perhaps I was the exception, not the rule.

So yeah, maybe I'm ruining my children and their imaginations by not pretending Santa is real during these early years, but I'm hoping to do the opposite.

I don't think those who choose to do Santa or anything else are wrong. I think it's just one of those areas, you know, like every area in parenting, where we just have to come to the conclusion of what is best for us.

Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc., just doesn't match up with my personal or religious beliefs. My religion says that lying is a sin. It's not a gray area. There is no leeway for white lies. A lie is a lie. And it's a sin. For me, personally, that's a pretty big deal. I am certainly not sin-free (pregnant before I was married...), but I do try to at least avoid the sins rhat go agsinst my personsl moral beliefs as well. So I'm pretty set on my no-lying policy.

So I won't teach my children about the fairy-tale version of Santa; I'll tell them the truth about where babies come from; I'll always be honest with them when they ask, even if I want to shield and protect their young, tender minds. Because for us, it's just what works.

That all said, I'm trying. Like, really, really hard to figure out how to make things magical for them still. I want the holidays to be magical; they have that right. I just don't know how to do it without lying exactly.

I remember all the holidays growing up were these phenomenal events that I LOVED. Though looking back, I loved that I had so much family there celebrating. And that's probably the kicker. My kids don't have half a dozen siblings and aunts and uncles who comes around for the holidays to partake in a feast with them. And for me, that's what made it magical.

Driving around to look at lights with my Dad while "Santa" (and this was loooong after we all knew Santa was not real) delivered presents on Christmas Eve for us. I remember always knowing Santa wasn't real, and yet we all played into it because it was fun.

I want Christmas and Thanksgiving and even the 4th of July to be amazing, magical events for my kids to look back on. I certainly don't want them to be shortchanged because their mother is a bit cynical and far too realistic. But finding that healthy median is proving to be a real challenge. Mostly I don't know how to lie and my imagination sucks.

And then J just doesn't like the holidays period. So he's zero help. Zero.

I guess I am at the crossroads of finding a way to make it all fun and magical without compromising myself and my own views. But they deserve to be kids. They deserve to have imaginations and believe in whatever they want to believe. They deserve to be young and innocent.

And to be honest, I deserve to have this all be a bit easier. Ha!

Day 12 of thankfulness

I am so incredibly thankful for all the people in my life - past and current - who have shared information with me and enlightened me in areas and on topics I didn't even sometimes realize I needed more insight to, or that there were other options. I'm thankful for every person who has challenged my beliefs, who has made me question myself and my ideas, and who has loved and supported me even if I didn't agree with their view. These are the people who have helped me on a daily basis educate and redefine myself and my beliefs, and I deeply cherish and respect each person who has ever planted a seed in my mind to think outside of my own bubble. You have changed my world. And continue doing so. On a daily basis.

Day 11 of Thankfulness

I am very thankful have two incredibly amazing men in my life who I get to call "dad" and my children call "Grandpa."

Most kids only get one dad, I got lucky and got two. I am thankful everyday for that awesome blessing in my life!

Momma's not ready for seperation

Yesterday I left my house at 6:45am. I didn't return until 4:45pm.

Never again.

At least not in the near future.

Don't get me wrong, the first 5 hours were pretty nice. I listened to the kiddos favorite song for 30 minutes in the car before I realized that I didn't have to - they were home with J. Miss H called about every 20 mins for the first hours having Mommy withdraw. Of course, she moved on and stopped calling about the time Momma started having baby withdraw.

So since I was all ready shopping with my Grandma, Christmas shopping specifically, I started shopping for the babes. And the more I missed them the more I bought.

So yeah...not a good idea.

But at least it kind of killed my honeymoon fantasy of J and I having a vacation together without the kiddos at some point in life.

Clearly that can't happen.

I mean, I left them with the one person I trust them with as much, if not more than, myself. Their papa.

And I still missed them. Terribly.

So it was nice to get away and spend some time with my Grandma, who I haven't really had the opportunity to spend any quality time with since before I lived in England. So it was long overdue. But my time away for that long of a time period won't happen again in the near future.

That's for sure.

But 2-3 hours away, that's cool. Now if only it could be managed where I get that "break" AND J is with me so we get to spend some time together.

Eventually...

Day 10 of Thankfulness

I am so thankful that I have both the ability and the choice to stay home with my children everyday.

I know it's not for everybody, and that many simply cannot for one reason or another, and I do not take for granted this career choice for one single second.

Day 9 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for a safe, reliable automobile.

I love 2.5

I am seriously loving this age that H is at now. It’s like the last 3 months of terror were totally worth it.

She’s so incredibly sweet. She cuddles with me in the mornings and sings me awake. Sometimes they are “real” songs, sometimes they are awesome made-up songs. She makes up songs. All. The. Time. They are great. Absolutely amazing.

We play games together. She blows me away with her awesome imagination. She loves to play restaurant and for us to take turns serving each other. She adores her baby dolls.

She says the funniest things. Like when my friend S drove away the other day, H shouted, “Oh, S! Wait! Come back! I have some questions for you now!” Completely random. But she was so genuine about it, I couldn’t help but laugh.

And when I took her and B to the Play ‘n Learn at the Y yesterdayand B started to fuss, she “held” him so he wouldn’t be sad. She’s so sweet and protective of her baby brother. She’s so much more kind to him. When she does something that isn’t particularly sweet to him, she catches herself and says things like, “Oh, that made B really sad. I should do xyz so that he’s happy again.”

She loves on me and cuddles with me. Which is the greatest thing ever. She’s happily a love bug. And yesterday she even fell asleep for a nap on top of me, which completely melted me. She hasn’t napped on me since B was a newborn.

She’s more patient now.

The tantrums. The inconsolable meltdowns. They’re mostly gone. And when she does get overly-frustrated or tired, she stops and asks, “Can I just have a hug?” and we sit down together and hug until she’s calm. No more major freak-outs.

She’s reasoning with me when applicable.

Everything isn’t a fight. I don’t say the sky is blue and she insists it’s orange. She doesn’t ask for a banana and when I give her one freak out that I gave her a banana because she really wants an apple!

It’s crazy how it all changed at once. And I don’t even know why. Or what clicked.

I mean, things were seriously hard. I walked into a different room and just had to say to myself more than once, “I really love her. I do not want to yell at her. That will accomplish nothing. I am the adult. I must show her a good example of how I want her to behave. I really love her. I do not want to react in a way I will regret later.” She was, as my little sister put it so delicately, a hellion.

She is still 2. She’s still far more vivacious than most kids I know, and I figure she always will be. And to be honest, it’s one of my favorite things about her, even if it makes parenting her a bit challenging at time.

But now we are at a place where I thoroughly enjoy being with her everyday. I mean, of course I’ve always been happy to be home with her, but for awhile there I also kind of dreaded it. Because I knew there would be so much screaming and crying…over essentially nothing, and I felt a bit helpless with helping her. And deeply questioned my peaceful, mostly non-punitive parenting beliefs. 

  

But, I stuck with my guns and to my beliefs, and somehow, despite my crunchy, peaceful parenting beliefs, I ended up with an amazing little 2 year old, who is kind and empathetic, polite (to those who are polite to her anyway), thoughtful and loving, and who makes me smile every day.

Dat 8 of Thankfulness

I am so very thankful for my double stroller.

Although I seem to be wearing someone 24/7 (my 2.5 year old now requests which carrier she wants to be worn in – the Ergo or Beco), and more often than I would like to admit, I’m wearing them both, my double stroller is still a Godsend. On occasion, they do sit in it. But it makes an amazing cart. It holds diaper bags and food and groceries and coats. I’m ever so thankful to have it; even it isn’t typically used properly.

I must admit, I love Mr. Clean

Magic erasers, that is.

I clean everything in my house with baking soda and vinegar, typically with lavender EO to make it smell yummier.

There are many reasons I clean this way. 1.) It is cheaper. 2.) No toxic chemicals. 3.) If a babe eats it, it might taste nasty but won’t hurt them. 4.) It is more effective than most cleaners I’ve ever used. 5.) I can’t stand that “fake clean” smell most cleaners have.

But mostly just because it’s cheap.

And I clean a lot. Like a lot a lot.

I’m a clean freak.

Messes are cool. You’ll find clothes, toys, books, and general clutter all over my house on any given day. Whatever, it is what it is.

But you’ll be hard pressed to find dust. Even on my baseboards. For real.

I clean my bathrooms a minimum of every other day. Because of this, it’s usually just a quick wipe down because they don’t get very dirty when cleaned that often. And bathrooms are my biggest clean peeve. Mostly, dirty bathrooms freak me out.

Not because of germs. I’m not a germaphobe in a long shot. Just because the idea of being able to see dirt somewhere that is made to clean yourself freak me out.

But the bathtub.

Oh, the bathtub.

This is why I love Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. There is one that lives at the top of my shower at all times. It’s more convenient this way. Since I typically wash the kids with CO, the tub gets a grimy look/feel pretty quickly. So I try to wipe it out every time I shower, though if I’m in a hurry it doesn’t always happen. And the Magic Erasers do the best job in a hurry, while I’m still taking a shower, and are the most convenient.

I won’t let my kids touch them though. I don’t know what the hell is in them. And they always make my hands itchy. So I know it’s probably nothing great.

But they do the job. So I love them.

A lot, a lot.

Day 7 of Thankfulness

I am so extemely thankful for all the family we've been blessed with that share no blood ties with us, but love us anyhow, and we, of course, love too!

Before I met J the idea of "family" outside of blood was a foreign concept I could not wrap my head around. Now most of our family is comprised of people who voluntarily chose to be our family, not those born into it.

And I'm incredibly thankful for that. Because they are all amazing people who I deeply cherish and respect!

"Play" school

So someone mentioned that they didn’t realize H was in preschool, since our first minor experience was traumatic, and we plan to home school anyway.

Well, she is. Actually, I refer to it as “play” school. She goes to play and sing songs and do crafts and play in the sandbox for 2.5 hours twice a week. And it gives B and me some good 1 on 1 time together. Which is needed, because, yeah…I hang on to that guilt shit like nothing else. But we’re working on it.

Anyway, she loves it. She fussed the first day, but never cried. Because I told myself I would not do it if she cried. It just isn’t worth it. Especially since it’s not necessary. But she didn’t cry. She told me she wanted me to stay, that she didn’t want me to leave, but overall, she did awesome. This was the beginning of October. Because I couldn’t decide when the school year actually began if I wanted to enroll her or not.

And initially decided not to, because I knew she didn’t need it academically or socially.

But then realized that Mommy needed it. Mentally.

And I’m okay with that.

I get some special, uninterrupted time with B, which I got for the first whole 17 months of H’s life. Since J is gone all the time, it gives me some kind of sanity break, especially on the most trying weeks, and we are all a lot happier for it.

And she asks to go now. She tells me she wants to go to preschool on non-preschool days.

So at least I’m not traumatizing her.

Too much. J

Day 6 of Thankfulness

I am so thankful for my right as a woman to vote.

I am thankful to all the women in the "Samantha-era" (Oh, some of you get that and totally loved Cornelia, too!) who risked everything so that I could have the right to vote and have it count. And so that some day my sweet, all ready opinionated little H can do the same.

Day 5 of Thankfulness

I am thankful for my home.

Though I often feel like it will never be "finished", I am so very fortunate to have a roof over my head. A place my children can call home and that is our very own.

They pick up on everything

I know they always say kiddos pick up on the little things just as much as the big things. I just didn’t realize how much so until this morning.

I was unloading the dishwasher while H and B were playing. Both armed with fruit pouches…

I walked into the living room to check on them – both riding the rocking turtle together. (His name was Sheldon – how could we not have gotten a rocking turtle named Sheldon!?). But behind them, on their little table, was fruit pouch sauce food stuff all over.

I asked H if B did this, and she said, “Yes.”

But it took me about two seconds after grabbing a rag to clean it up that I realized B didn’t do it – it wasn’t his fruit pouch.

So I said to H, “Did B take your applesauce, mija?”

H: “No.”

Me: “But this is your applesauce on the table, not B’s.”

H: “I know.”

Me: “But you said it was B’s when I asked. Why didn’t you tell me it was yours?”

H got really quiet for a second and then replied, “I didn’t want you to get angry.”

Now, I never yell. The last time I can remember truly yelling was when H decided to run into the road at the beginning of summer. And I don’t know who I scared more – her or J.  I don’t punish her for pretty much anything, there’s a lot of hugging and talking and hippy-free-love around here, though it does go differently on occasion.  That doesn’t mean I don’t get mad or frustrated, I just try my best to hide it from them, and something like a mess really doesn’t get me in a tizzy at all.

What I’m trying to say is; the idea that I would be mad over a mess really threw me off. Messes don’t get me mad. Ever. Annoyed, maybe. Angry, no.

“I wouldn’t be angry,” I told her.

Then she told me that I would say her name, and she said it with that perfect air of annoyance and exasperation that someone says when they sigh and are, well, annoyed and exasperated.

For a second I didn’t know what to say. Do I tell her mommy isn’t mad or annoyed or anything? Do I protect her, at 2.5, from my feelings, when I know she is so small and can hardly handle her own oftentimes?

Well, if you think that’s what I should have done, then I messed up again.

Instead I told her Mommy was sorry if that made her think Momma was angry at her. I’m not. Sometimes Momma just gets really tired of cleaning up, cleaning up, cleaning up, and I don’t know how to handle my own feelings properly, so I say things in a not-nice voice. But I will try really hard to only use a nice voice so I don’t make her feel bad, especially because there is no reason for her to feel bad over a mess. An accident.

Maybe that was too much explanation. I don’t know. But I do know that I never once realized that sighing affected her. That she picked up on it.

I can’t expect myself to always be happy, cheery around my babes, especially if I’m genuinely not. But I also need to check myself before dishing out my emotions onto them.

They’re just babies, after all.

They have their whole lives to figure out other people’s emotions and carry them like baggage.

For now, they can just school me on how to keep myself in check.

Day 4 of Thankfulness

I'm thankful for sex.

There.

I said it.

Love-hate food pouches

I have a serious love-hate relationship with food pouches. You know, those pureed baby foods that come in a squeezey pouch. I only buy the variety that has both fruits and veggies – it makes me feel better.

My kids freaking LOVE them. It’s funny, because H would never eat purees as an infant. But obviously out of a pouch they are delicious and wonderful and meant to be eaten. And B loves them, too. He can mostly do it all himself and doesn’t have to stop being busy.

So yes, they are great. They get my kids, who are not big eaters, to eat. They get them to eat fruits and veggies, which they do eat without issues, but if it comes to “snacking” and not sitting down for a meal, H would otherwise request cheese, granola bars, crackers, etc. All things I’d rather not give her anyway, because they are not even close to being as nutritious as fruits and veggies – real, whole foods. (And yes, my kids eat all those things. They just aren’t my first pick). Plus, B has a wheat and dairy sensitivity, so trying to negate that when his sister wants things that contain those are a whole other issue. But I digress.

Yes, the love is there. My kids can eat them like they are going out of style. Some days, the fruit and veggie food pouches are the only things they consume other than water and breast milk. So it makes me feel good.

On the other hand, they’re a crutch. Kids didn’t eat much lunch or dinner, give them a food pouch. Kids are too busy to sit down and eat with me, give them a food pouch and move on.

And I don’t really love that. But it’s my doing, of course.

Not to mention they are expensive. I try to stock-up when they go on sale for $1, but that isn’t often enough for as many as my kids eat. So I just got stuck buying them for like $1.67 a pop…and I bought like 30. Yeah, you do that math. That should last us the week. Maybe two depending on how they eat.

And of course, it’s the worst when J is gone, which is seemingly all the time. I don’t love making dinner as it is, and I try to keep us crazy busy when he’s gone so I don’t feel so alone, and then it’s like wham! Dinnertime. And I forgot to set anything out to thaw. So it’ll take FOREVER before I can cook something. So, hey kids, have some fruit pouches and an avocado and mommy will eat…probably nothing…maybe a smoothie. And there, we’re all set.

I hate food pouches.

I love food pouches.

You don't get to clock out on being a parent because you're tired...

I recently heard a mother say she was going to have to use some “tough love” and let her 7-month-old cry it out at night because his night wakings were just becoming too much for her to handle.

I had to resist knocking her over the head with the banana I was holding.

For starters, if she has to use “tough love” with a 7-month-old WTF is she going to do with a 7-year-old? Or, oh dear Lord, a 17-year-old?

Don’t get me wrong, I know how hard it is to get up a million and two times at night with a baby (or toddler!). Especially if they have “colic” or reflux, or are, in general, a “high needs” child. Been there. Done that. Still doing it. I get it. There are days/nights you are so freaking exhausted you’re pretty sure you’d saw off your left arm for a solid four hours of sleep. And you can’t even remember what it’s like to sleep for that many solid hours.  Did it ever really happen? In a previous life, mayhap?

But regardless of how tired you are, you don’t get to clock out of being a parent because you’re tired. If you think that’s how it works, you probably shouldn’t have signed up for the gig. You clearly missed the fine print. It’s a 24-hour job.

The job isn’t  9-5. There are no nights and weekends off. It just doesn’t work like that. Sorry, Charlie.

I mean, seriously, if your older child woke up yelling for you, would you ignore them? No! If they told they needed to use the restroom, they had gas, their bellies hurt because they ate something funny, their ears were itchy, their throat was dry, they were hungry, they were thirsty, their pajamas were itching them, they were too hot, they were too cold, they had a bad dream, they heard a scary noise, they saw a shadow, etc., etc., would you seriously just lay in your bed and ignore them?

NO!

Because they are verbal. Because they can tell you exactly what they need and you can fix it quickly and move on.

Well, it isn’t any different just because you have a non-verbal, helpless infant who cannot tell who exactly what he needs. If he is crying, he has needs. He’s a baby. He cannot manipulate you, contrary to stupid belief. All he knows is that his parents are his sole providers and protectors, and he needs them.

And when you ignore your baby for whatever reason you’ve convinced yourself makes it all okay (he needs to learn to self-soothe, surely he will never learn to sleep on his own if he doesn’t cry it out, it’s for his own good because he needs his sleep!) you are telling him point-blank that his needs don’t matter and you are not going to help him. You break a pivotal trust he has with you.

Yes, yes, people say it all the time. “I let my baby cry it out and we have a great relationship and trust!” Okay. I’m sure you do. But it still doesn’t mean that you didn’t hurt him somehow by ignoring him during his time of need.

I mean, seriously. If you were bawling in your bedroom, for any reason, and your spouse just sat in the other room completely ignoring you, would you feel loved by that person? Would you feel like your spouse, who made vows to love and cherish you during all times, was truly upholding those vows? No. You’d likely be pissed that they had the ability to come in and comfort you, but decided you weren’t important enough to give comfort to.

And hey, maybe you asked for your space. Maybe your spouse is doing something genuinely important.

But a baby can’t ask for space. And he certainly doesn’t understand that anything could be more important than him.

Then again, I can’t understand that anything could be more important than your own child.  Not even sleep.

But what do I know?

Day 3 of Thankfulness

I am so incredbily thankful for the two beautiful, brilliant, lovely human beings who call me "Momma."

I thought I had the world figured out -; at least my whole entire life - before I was blessed with them. They have taught me things I never even knew I needed to be taught.

They have helped me better myself as a human being. They have made me humble. I have never apologized as much as I have since being a mom. They've taught me that, contrary to what I had been lead to bleieve, it is okay to make mistakes. It is okay to admit you were wrong. And it is okay to move on.

They have taught me love unconditionally.

I am so fortuante and thankful to have my amazing H and fantastic little B. They are my world.

My life.

Day 2 of Thankfulness

Though it goes without saying, I will say it anyway. I am so extremely thankful for my partner; my husband, my lover, my friend.

He is my equal. He is incredibly supportive in every crazy idea or new belief I come up with. He supports me unconditionally. He never gets mad at me or behaves passibely agressive or flippant. He's always honest and straight forward, there is no questioning how he feels.

He is an incredible father. He puts our children and their well-being before all else. There is no house project, no golf game, not even a business trip that comes before them. If they need him, he drops everything because he knows he only gets one shot at this. He is forever patient and understanding with our tiny babes, and no one cuddles them at night as sweetly as he does. Even when he's running off of little to no sleep, he's still happy to get up and dance around the house or rock a cranky toddler.

Basically, he's amazing. I've been told their is no such thing as Prince Charming or the "perfect husband." But that's not true. He is perfect.

Flawless.

Okay, he occassionally snores. So he does have one flaw!

But I am thankful for the ever-incredible J. My husband. The father of my children.

Day 1 of Thankfulness

So I figured I'd get on this Month of Thankfulness bandwagon.

I am thankful for my belly full of food. I know that many millions of people, including children are babes, are going to bed hungry tonight. I am so thankful I have a full belly and that my children and myself do not know what it means to truly be hungry.

I am thankful for food - good, bad, and the like.

Figuring out the holidays, starting with Halloween

So it seems J and I aren’t “holiday people.” I think I’d like to be. I’m just not. I don’t think I much know how.

I get too wrapped up in the reality of the holiday to enjoy the kid-friendly versions, it seems. Like Halloween, I’m thinking of it all historically and about dead people and then these strange Protestant ideas from when I was tiny and told I’d go to hell if I dressed up... Thanksgiving, I’m thinking more of all the slain Native Americans. Christmas…well, it’s a pagan Holiday mixed with the birth of Christ whose birthday was conveniently changed to December and then we threw in a Saint but made him a mythical character…ay ay ay!

So yeah. Our poor kids.

But we had a little Halloween party yesterday at our house with ghost bananas and spider cupcakes.  If it weren’t for H’s preschool, I probably would have let the whole holiday go by without mentioning it.

But now she’s hooked.

She knows Halloween songs (I didn’t even know there were such things!). And all about costumes and trick or treating.

So I obliged her.

Because that’s what I do, I guess.

After the party we threw, J and I hadn’t discussed trick or treating. At all. So we decided to go to our favorite restaurant Le Petite instead. We haven’t really gone out to eat in AGES because we’ve been so focused on becoming debt free for the past year or so (and have succeeded! Well, until this lead thing, ha-ha!). So we decided to indulge. The kiddos wore their costumes (H a ladybug, B a monster).

When we returned home it was dark. And there were porch lights on.

And kids trick or treating.

“Oh, it’s Halloween!” H beamed. “Let’s go trick or treating!”

So we did. We went to 7 houses in our neighborhood. H thought it was amazing. Then we took them back home, let them each have one piece of candy while they changed into jammies. I laughed at B telling him he was a chocolate monster because that kid would eat nothing but chocolate if he could, and then H made noises so I’d say the same about her, but when I did, she announced, “No, Momma! I’m a chocolate ladybug!”

After they were in bed I transferred all the non-chocolate candies to a bag for J (because of H’s allergies) and left the chocolates in their buckets. And for having only hit 7 houses, they had a surprisingly large amount of candy! So now they each have 5 more pieces and then they are done. Thank goodness.

So maybe I’m not a good holiday person. Certainly not a good Halloween person – I didn’t even like that holiday as a kid strangely enough.

But I’m trying.

For my kids.

They shouldn’t dislike the holidays because they got stuck with a Grinch and a Scrooge for parents!