4 yr and 5.5 yr photos

I tend to always have my camera on me. Or in the car at the very least. So when we ran to pick up milk and eggs this morning and I spotted these two darlings in the review mirror holding hands and giggling, my obvious thought was, "I need to take their picture!"

Unfortunately, it's really frowned upon if you trying taking photos while also operating an automobile on the highway, so we drove down the road and I unloaded them while declaring, "Time for some amazing 4 year old and 5.5 year old pictures!" Though really, they love having their pictures taken, so I don't typically have to jazz them out about it unless they're in a particular mood.

Below are the results.  Because. Good grief. The worst photographer in the world would still take awesome photos with these two as their models!

 No, this isn't staged. They actually walk like this 3/4 of the time!

 

That face!

 

 Do not be fooled by this petite beauty. She is woman, and you WILL hear her roar!

 

 This is all them, too! I just asked if they'd stand together.

 

 They both always insist on getting behind the camera. They both always want to photograph me, ha. But when you haven't showered in 3 days you certainly need a cuter model, hence Mr. B! (Don't judge, both kids are bathed and well dressed at least!)

 

 We call these gems "out takes." Or them just being themselves...

 

 How is this sweet baby 4!?

 

 This was the least blurry of B's turn. He finds it more fun to constantly move the camera while clicking, haha!

 

 

 

Again, all them. Jeez Louise, they're the best!

Photos from August

We've had a fun-filled two weeks. I'd tell you all about it, but really, I got to spend it with these cuties, so that pretty much 'splains it all. And looking at a gazillion photos of them is way more fun than reading anything I could write!

 



 

Who's got it harder

I've had this post in the back of my head for nearly a year. I just hadn't gotten around to actually writing it up because...life.

What is up with all the "I've got it harder in parenthood than you" shit that is constantly floating around the internet, most especially facebook?

"I'm a single mom."

"My husband travels once a year/ once a month/ is in the military."

"My kid is allergic to x."

"My kid has x giftedness or special needs."

"My kid doesn't sleep."

And that's only the cream from the top. I've barely scraped the surface.

The thing is, yes of course all of those things can make parenting hard! Even if absolutely none of those are applicable to you in any way, shape, or form, parenting is still hard!

And within those initial categories we still have to say we have it harder.

Life as a single mom is harder for me because I didn't choose it. It's harder for me because I have three kids or became a single mom at x age. Etc., Etc.

My husband travels monthly so obviously it's harder for me. My husband is in the military so it's harder for me because obviously he's gone more than yours!

My kid is allergic to eggs which is in everything; at least your kid is only allergic to peanuts which is all ready banned everywhere.

I could go on, but you get the point.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't occasionally have to refrain from rolling my eyes when I hear someone worry frantically about having to drive three hours with their child or someone bemoans how they'll survive three whole days solo parenting while their spouse is out of town. I have those moments. But then I also stop and realize that my life and experiences are not someone else's.

Are car rides pleasant with kids? Hell no! Whether it's 3 hours or 12 hours. When they're tiny it's tough. And just because I have a bazillion (yes, that's a real world because autocorrect didn't change it!) hours of driving under my belt with my kiddos, doesn't make someone else's car driving dread less valid.

And sure, I often go weeks, and have even gone months while my husband has been out of town - sometimes in countries where I can't even know his location or communicate with him in any way until he shows up back home - but that doesn't mean someone whose husband leaves for the weekend has it any easier than me. Because they don't.

We all have our own issues and struggles. Especially in parenting, Lord knows it.

My husband is gone a lot, but when he is home, he is home. It's me and the kids 100% of the time. He doesn't play or watch sports or go out with buddies or do anything that is not completely family-centric. And he cooks and cleans better than me! Trust me, there are many husbands that are not even a fraction of that family-focused. So who knows, maybe those women have it harder than me in so many ways, even if their spouses never travel.

The thing is, I will never know. And it will never matter.

Wouldn't it be better if instead of playing the "who has it harder game," when someone reached out to make the comment that they're dreading a car ride or a solo weekend or struggling with an allergy to kumquats we simply replied with "What can  I do to help you with this?" instead of "Well, let me tell you about my husband being deployed for a year and my allergy to eggs, wheat, peanuts, and oxygen?"

It's not about who has it harder. It's about what we can do for one another to make it less challenging for each other. So let's stop whining about how Sally think she has it soooo hard, but we really have it harder, and just validate Sally's situation and ask what we can do to help. So maybe things won't be so hard for Sally. And you know, karma can be a bitch or a really good thing. You decide what you've got coming to you.

So again, stop comparing or vying for who has it hardest in x situation; because the struggle is real for everyone and so incredibly different for everyone. But you have the ability to help out a fellow momma, even if it's just by offering a few encouraging words.

Doodle Bug

There should be a warning that comes with each individual pregnancy. So you know what to expect. It's really only fair.

Trust me, I was never in a million years prepared for this pregnancy. H and B were easy. So easy. Heartburn aside, I have zero complaints. I was pretty certain I could be pregnant forever. I loved pregnancy. It was so awesome.

And then I got pregnant with Doodle Bug.

I'm not going to complain. Not really. I'd take it a million times worse if I had to, because this baby is all ready so loved and cherished and deeply wanted, and completely worth the less pleasant aspects of this pregnancy.

Oh, no baby has been wanted as much as this one. All the things we've gone through to have him. The emotional and physical pain. The two sweet angel babies that came before him. Trust me, I'm eternally grateful for this darling.

I try to see the positive to all the crazy symptoms. All the crazy vomiting has kept me below my pre-pregnancy weight, despite a tummy that all ready is as big as I was at 25 week with H (seriously!).

I've come to see how ridiculously amazing my children can be. And how understanding and compassionate when Mommy can be barely function due to a migraine or intense exhaustion. It's always lovely to see your babes rise to the occasion, and they definitely are.

And when I lay on the couch at night, I can feel the tiny dancing from inside of the tiniest human in our family. There are seriously no words for how amazing that is.

Regardless though, I'm recording all of this. All of it. I will remember how not-fun this all is. So that when sweet Doodle Bug is a year old (or 3 days old, hormones are funny like that), I don't get any crazy ideas about wanting to reproduce again. Ever again.

J doesn't believe me (I guess my credibility might be shot a little bit), but I'm serious. We will all love and cherish this perfect darling. And revel in the fact he will be the last. (Right....)

I didn't expect the mommy guilt that would come with this pregnancy. When I was pregnant with B, I worried endlessly about whether I was ruining H's life by having another babe and making her not the center of our world. But that passed once B was here.

This go-round I don't have those fears. I know Doodle Bug will be nothing but a wonderful addition, and H and B will be so fortunate to have him. They will rock their sibling roles for Doodle Bug just as they do for each other.

But I'm pretty sure I'm neglecting my kids at this point. I'm just so tired. So. Tired. My energy is shot. I am not the fun, on-the-floor, out-hiking momma I was 14 weeks ago. To the extent that if it were remotely in my budget, they'd both be in school right now just because I feel like they need a little more attention. I mean, they're not complaining fortunately, but I do worry about them.

I know it will be fine though. We will all come out the other end of this like rock stars; and utterly in love with our newest addition. Because really, we all ready are.

I figure the bumpy path for us to eventually hold Doodle Bugs in our arms will make us adore him just that much more. Besides, all good things are worth fighting for. And Lord knows we fought like crazy for this baby.

No one told me...

When Miss H was only a speckle in my womb, people told me about parenthood.

"You'll never sleep again." (True.)

"You'll never fit into your pre-baby clothes again." (Not true.)

"Your life will never be the same." (So, so true.)

But those weren't things I needed to be told. I all ready knew them. Expected them. In so many ways, I eagerly anticipated them.

No one told me the big things. The most important things.

No one told me that as I rocked my sleepless, crying babe in the middle of the night, I'd sob right along with her. Not because I was sleep-deprived or depressed; but because I was so in love with her. So in love that at times it very much felt like my heart could burst open. And that love was so daunting because I'd never loved another human quite like that.

No one told me how I'd get to be a kid again with them. How I'd experience a beautiful and wonderful childhood through the eyes of my children. And how such an experience could be so overwhelming sometimes I'd have to hold my breath and simply watch as it played out in front of me; because sometimes experiencing is far too intense.

No one told me that while my babe sobbed as they stitched up his face, I would feel a pain more severe than even the worst of my child birthing experiences had to offer. That that pain would be permanently burned into my heart; unable to forget it quite like I could other sorts of physical pain.

No one told me that when a kid on the playground told my sweet girl her "hair was stupid" and ran away from her, I'd fantasize about him falling from the monkey bars and splitting his face open and not feel even a little awful for such horrid feelings toward a child.

No one told me that not only would their firsts be beautiful experiences, but also that their seconds, and thirds, and 934,789,347,983,874ths would be wondrous; that I would find his one millionth smile just as enchanting as his first; that her 5 year old giggle, though grown and changed, would still be the same blissful music to my ears that her newborn giggle was.

No one told me that I would spend hours and hours reading and researching into the wee hours of the night; hoping and begging that maybe, just maybe, I could get something right. That if I read enough and armed myself with enough resources, then maybe against all odds they wouldn't come out at the other end damaged. And that'd I'd doubt every single decision every single day; because how can I know until it's all said and done?

No one told me how proud I would feel when I made a simple request and my child looked me square in the eyes and said, "No, Momma." I had no idea I could feel so much pride for a tiny person with a strong voice and convictions who knew how to stand their ground, even if it made some days of parenting so much harder.

No one told me how hard I'd fight to find answers and to find a way to help him be healthy when they said my sweet boy was sick. I had no idea how scared I could be for the future of one of the sweetest creatures I've ever know; or how much relief I could feel when I knew that finally, somehow, we'd managed to pull him through something that seemed much too similar to a nightmare.

No one told me how on the thankfully not so frequent occasions that they fought, it would literally hurt my heart and make me want to clobber them at the same time. And how watching them make up on their own terms and be so lovey to eachother would be better than an ice pack for my heart.

No one told me that a sassy 5 year old girl could cause more emotional turmoil and sleepness nights than writing my thesis while also pregnant and taking on a 21 credit course load in college ever could.

No one told me how never meeting the baby that I saw two tiny pink lines for would break me in a way I never expected, and also make me that much stronger and powerful and determined to love the two babes I have in arms limitlessly.

No one told me how much love there would me. How much laughter. How many adventures we would have in just an ordinary day.

No one told me how healing it would be just being their mom.

Oh, the things no one told me.

I can't even fathom what else I don't know yet. What else is to come. How many tears will be shed. How many belly-laughs I will hear. How many sloppy kissies I will receive and how many more outfits will be ruined by dirt and blood.

No one told me how awesome it would be.

But it is.

Who knew selling a car could be sad?

Who knew a vehicle could elicit such emotions?

After Miss H was born, we knew we wanted to give her a little brother or sister asap. Call us young and crazy - okay, one of us was young, the other crazy - but we had a plan.

So I started researching vehicles. I knew I really wanted a station wagon. I can't pinpoint why exactly; maybe the great trunk space. But it's what my heart was set on. We briefly discussed a mini van, but then quickly dismissed that idea. I had zero desire of every driving a mini van. And since I'd quickly dropped my desire to have five bambinos after having my vivacious H (you're realizing I'm the crazy one right, not J), I knew it wouldn't be necessary.

After a lot of months of researching just what I wanted, and then many more months finding exactly what I wanted in our price range; we purchased my "forever" car - an Audi station wagon.

I won't lie. It was love at first sight. I'm kinda awesome at pegging amazingness the first time I lay eyes on it - I didn't do so bad with J, after all.

It was the first car Mr. B ever rode in when he was a tiny newborn squish, going to the pediatrician for that first time.

We drove that car all over the U.S. It took us to and from New Mexico countless times. It went north and east and south, as well. It was so stinking reliable. It was so much love for an inanimate object.

I was driving that car the first time I was brave enough to make the 12 hour trek to my dad's house solo with the kids. I quickly got brave enough to drive it to and from Maryland several times solo with my sweet babes.

It weathered many snow storms.

It's where my children screamed the seven minutes across town. Where they had poo-splosions of epic proportions. Where sweet H, in the midst of potty training, sat in the back on the baby Bjorn potty on the side of the highway, waving at all the cars going by. It's where I sang "Old MacDonald" and "If You're Happy and You Know It" until my voice went hoarse.

It is where so much laughter and love occurred.

I never imagined parting with it.

Until we did.

I certainly didn't expect to feel so sad. It's a car for goodness sakes. A car.

But my weeping H phrased it perfectly, "We had so many good memories with that car!"

But because I had to put on my big girl panties, I consoled her. I cooed to her all the good memories we will make in our new vehicle. Our mini van. (Oh yes...the joke is on me!) "We are going to drive this car to Denver and to Disney World this fall! It's the first car Doodle Bug will ever ride in. We are going to love it so much and keep this one until you're all grown up. We'll make more memories. And they'll be just as good. I promise."

So now I have a hefty promise to live up to.

But man. I never expected to mourn a car.

It has happy new owners, and we scored a gem of a mini van. But....it will always be our first family vehicle. So it will always matter.

And I'll go eat some pie dwell in the silliness of mourning a car. Just as life should be.

Sleep: It finally happened

You guys. There are no words.

I'm been so afraid to say this out loud - or write this for the world.

But my kids are sleeping.

Like real sleeping.

All night long.

In their own beds.

Now before you go all crazy, I'll be completely honest here. It's not every single night. But it's the majority of the time. They're in their own beds. No waking up at night. At least 4 nights out of each week. Sometimes more.

I know, I know, I know.

This is crazy, right?

If I had a dollar for every person who said I was spoiling them, or that they'd never sleep in their own beds (or that they'd never fall asleep without nursing...), they'd be going to Montessori school this year instead of homeschooling, bahaha!

What was the secret, you ask?

Nada.

They were just ready, I guess.

Okay, okay. If we are being completely honest, B may have been ready from day 1. He slept 4-6 hour stretches at night from birth. But don't get jealous - his 17 month older sister was still waking every 1.5 - 2 hours like clockwork, so I didn't really get to enjoy that sleep of his.

And although he's always loved his space while he slept, and likely would have been content in a crib, that seemed like waaaay too much extra work when I still had a babe right next to me.

But finally. Finally! H got it together and started sleeping.

Well, as I said, mostly.

She still walks and talks in her sleep. So their is still no true sleep for the wicked. And she doesn't not wake up at night, she's just getting more comfortable at falling back to sleep by herself. Secret: Lots of books by her bed, a flashlight, and stuffed horse.

Whatever, whatever, I will take it. There are still actual nights of real, uninterrupted sleep. After 5+ years, it's happened.

Want to know a secret?

I actually miss snuggling them while we sleep.

I miss having them right there all night, because I still have the irrational fear that they will randomly stop breathing at night.

I'm glad we did it this way though. That we spent years sharing our sleep and cuddling and having them close. And that they got to sleep in their own beds on their own terms.

I know quite a few people who did one form of sleep training or another while their babes were infants, only to end up doing one form of co-sleeping or another once their babes were mobile and talking. Obviously it doesn't work out for everyone that way, but again, if I had a dollar... So I'm glad we just forewent the stress of tears. We embraced the sleep deprivation the best we could.

And finally, it's paying off.

In the calm, peaceful, pleasant way we were hoping for.

And the best part?

I got to paint some furniture and re-decorate to celebrate it all. Of course!