"Seriously, you amaze me!"
"You handle two kids so well"
"How do you pull it all together?"
...just a few comments I've received lately.
Here's the truth: My life is complete, total, and utter chaos. Let me repeat that: My life is complete, total, and utter chaos. Emphasis on the chaos.
I think it is hysterical that I (apparently) project this image of having it all together, when the truth is, I'm about as far from it as possible!!
My house is a disaster. My car has at least an inch of graham cracker crumb dust. My laundry is never done. My grocery bill is too high. My two-year old hits, kicks, pushes, and paints on windows with his drool. My 9 month old just came out of a 7 month long scream. Yes, one scream seemed to last the entire 7 months. My husband has to suffer through PB sammies 3 or 4 days a week for lunch, and act like he loves that I pack his lunch. I carry around a ginormous diaper bag, yet I often leave the house for a day trip without a single diaper.
But, to steal a line from Oprah, here is what I know for sure: None of that 'stuff' matters.
And THAT's my real secret. Very little matters. It is just that simple. We have our health, and we have eachother. And those are the only things that are truly important to me.
Today I made glitter pictures with the Tatiman. I pushed Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo on a swing. We walked down a wooded path collecting at least 37 sticks. We ate lunch together.
A day full of chaos. A day full of perfection.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Confession Time.
I've been thinking about changing the name of the blog for a while. I don't confess much, and I'm really just an amateur mom. But, I haven't come up with anything better yet, so for now, the name sticks. In the meantime, I offer you these confessions:
1. My family room looks like this:
2. My boys have been napping for two hours. Rather than spending even a second straightening the family room, I sat quietly on the couch, working on a photo album.
3. The album is for the year 2009.
4. We spent the morning outside and had a lovely picnic lunch: PB & J, veggies, fruit, figs (yes, I know they are a fruit. The Tatiman thinks they are candy, shhhhhhhh!), tofu, crackers, cheese. A real mish mash. When we got home, I put the bag with the leftovers in the fridge. I'm contemplating taking the boys back out to play when they wake up. I'm contemplating just grabbing that bag, and taking it with us for dinner. And if, by chance, there is not enough food left in the bag for dinner, I'm contemplating supplementing with ice cream.
Whew. I feel better getting all of that off my chest!! Carry on...
1. My family room looks like this:
2. My boys have been napping for two hours. Rather than spending even a second straightening the family room, I sat quietly on the couch, working on a photo album.
3. The album is for the year 2009.
4. We spent the morning outside and had a lovely picnic lunch: PB & J, veggies, fruit, figs (yes, I know they are a fruit. The Tatiman thinks they are candy, shhhhhhhh!), tofu, crackers, cheese. A real mish mash. When we got home, I put the bag with the leftovers in the fridge. I'm contemplating taking the boys back out to play when they wake up. I'm contemplating just grabbing that bag, and taking it with us for dinner. And if, by chance, there is not enough food left in the bag for dinner, I'm contemplating supplementing with ice cream.
Whew. I feel better getting all of that off my chest!! Carry on...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Pregnancy...the Second Time Around.
Women say that once you give birth, you forget about all the pain of labor. Women say that when you hold your baby for the first time, you forget about how sick you were for the 9 months leading up to that moment. Women say that once you get through those first few months of newborn insanity, you forget about the sleepless nights and shower-free days.
Women lie. A lot.
I did not forget about the 25 weeks of round the clock vomiting, punctuated with two bouts of the stomach flu. I did not forget about 44 hours of pitocin induced contractions, the first 24 of which were completely free of pain medications. (I may have mentioned that before, and I will probably mention that again. In fact, I like to mention it once in a while to the Tatiman, just so he understands that he is lucky I didn't call off the whole thing around hour 23.5 of labor.) I didn't even forget about newborn insanity. But the second time around, I went into it armed with the knowledge that all of that is SO worth it.
My second pregnancy started off way better than the first. Looking back, the roller coaster I rode when I was 5 weeks pregnant (and did not know it) was a metaphor for the next 33 weeks. I stopped nursing (well, pumping) the Tatiman when he was a year old. A few short weeks later, I felt off...and since we were heading to an amusement park, I took a HPT, just to be safe. Negative. Off to ride roller coasters I went!! Somewhere around the 2nd dip on the first coaster, I felt the contents of my stomach gurgle up into my mouth. I *knew* that HPT had to be wrong. Fine time to find out you are preggo...halfway through a roller coaster ride, with your entire family waiting at the exit gate.
A few weeks and a confirmatory u/s later (where I was happy to see that roller coaster ride had not scrambled the fetus's parts), we informed the world. You get some fun reactions when you have a 13 month old, and a little popping belly. People lack filters. But, that's a post for another time!
So, at about 7 weeks pregnant, I made my fatal mistake. I mentioned, casually, that this pregnancy was so EASY compared to my last. I mean, I was a little queasy, but I was able to eat. The smell of the refrigerator was not offensive, nor had I developed a sensitivity to air.
And then it hit me. Pregnancy #2's nausea was clearly out to prove that Pregnancy #1's nausea was a wimp. I am generally anti medication while preggo, for fear of what it could do to my growing baby (Roller coaster riding...check. Anti-nausea medication...no way!). Which meant I spent my days barfing, peeing (often while barfing...so lovely), and crying. Oh the joy that a little bundle brings!!
And the Tatiman. Poor, sweet, innocent Tatiman. The Tatiman who, up until that point had not watched any TV. The Tatiman who was used to dining on 100% homemade, organic meals. Well, that Tatiman was quickly introduced to Elmo and spaghettiOs (which he, thankfully, refused). I had many a cry about my perceived failures at motherhood-while-preggo, but we were in survival mode. And, I'm happy to say, survive we did.
Thankfully, the nausea subsided around week 16, and aside from a few other wonky things (Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo was a fan of laying sideways, trying to wrap around my back...requiring two actual versions and one attempted version), the rest of the pregnancy turned out to be easy peasy. Imagine that.
And this time, the moment I held my baby in my arms, my first thought was about getting to do that all over again, because there is nothing else in this world, quite as amazing.
Women lie. A lot.
I did not forget about the 25 weeks of round the clock vomiting, punctuated with two bouts of the stomach flu. I did not forget about 44 hours of pitocin induced contractions, the first 24 of which were completely free of pain medications. (I may have mentioned that before, and I will probably mention that again. In fact, I like to mention it once in a while to the Tatiman, just so he understands that he is lucky I didn't call off the whole thing around hour 23.5 of labor.) I didn't even forget about newborn insanity. But the second time around, I went into it armed with the knowledge that all of that is SO worth it.
My second pregnancy started off way better than the first. Looking back, the roller coaster I rode when I was 5 weeks pregnant (and did not know it) was a metaphor for the next 33 weeks. I stopped nursing (well, pumping) the Tatiman when he was a year old. A few short weeks later, I felt off...and since we were heading to an amusement park, I took a HPT, just to be safe. Negative. Off to ride roller coasters I went!! Somewhere around the 2nd dip on the first coaster, I felt the contents of my stomach gurgle up into my mouth. I *knew* that HPT had to be wrong. Fine time to find out you are preggo...halfway through a roller coaster ride, with your entire family waiting at the exit gate.
A few weeks and a confirmatory u/s later (where I was happy to see that roller coaster ride had not scrambled the fetus's parts), we informed the world. You get some fun reactions when you have a 13 month old, and a little popping belly. People lack filters. But, that's a post for another time!
So, at about 7 weeks pregnant, I made my fatal mistake. I mentioned, casually, that this pregnancy was so EASY compared to my last. I mean, I was a little queasy, but I was able to eat. The smell of the refrigerator was not offensive, nor had I developed a sensitivity to air.
And then it hit me. Pregnancy #2's nausea was clearly out to prove that Pregnancy #1's nausea was a wimp. I am generally anti medication while preggo, for fear of what it could do to my growing baby (Roller coaster riding...check. Anti-nausea medication...no way!). Which meant I spent my days barfing, peeing (often while barfing...so lovely), and crying. Oh the joy that a little bundle brings!!
And the Tatiman. Poor, sweet, innocent Tatiman. The Tatiman who, up until that point had not watched any TV. The Tatiman who was used to dining on 100% homemade, organic meals. Well, that Tatiman was quickly introduced to Elmo and spaghettiOs (which he, thankfully, refused). I had many a cry about my perceived failures at motherhood-while-preggo, but we were in survival mode. And, I'm happy to say, survive we did.
Thankfully, the nausea subsided around week 16, and aside from a few other wonky things (Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo was a fan of laying sideways, trying to wrap around my back...requiring two actual versions and one attempted version), the rest of the pregnancy turned out to be easy peasy. Imagine that.
And this time, the moment I held my baby in my arms, my first thought was about getting to do that all over again, because there is nothing else in this world, quite as amazing.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
I'm baaaaa-aaaack
Tonight, I witnessed one of the most amazing things ever: my boys, playing together, completely unaware of my presence.
That's right, my boyS. I've been promoted. Since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Namely 9 months of a difficult pregnancy followed by a comparatively easy 36 hour labor and birth, followed by 2 months of bliss and 5 months of pure H-E-Double Hockey Sticks.
And here we are: Today the Tatiman is 2 years and 5 months old, and his little brother, Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo (not his real full name, although his real full name is almost as long) will be 8 months old next week.
I haven't written because I spent 4 months heaving. Not dry heaving, because I was always sure to eat my daily dose of Mrs. T's Perogies (they come up as easy as they go down—lessons learned during my first pregnancy), but heaving nonetheless.
I haven' t written because I spent the rest of my pregnancy running to high risk docs twice a week to be monitored for a whole bunch of things that turned out to be nothing.
I haven't written because I had a beautiful and peaceful newborn.
I haven't written because that beautiful and peaceful newborn caught a virus at 7 weeks old that required a hospital stay that left him with the horrible 24/7 reflux cycle that goes something like this: SCREAM-eat-barf-SCREAM, rinse and repeat for 5 months.
But really, I haven't written because I felt like I was out of things to say. I was in love with my life. It was easy. It was exciting—in the 'shall we go to the playground, boardwalk, or woods to play today' kind of way. It was perfection. And, who wants to hear somebody ramble about perfection all the time?
But tonight, I saw my boys playing together, and I felt like I had something to say again. So, allow me to ramble. We'll get caught up, and then hopefully I'll keep up. Or not. Such is the life...
We didn't 'plan' on my promotion to Professional Stay at Home Mom of Two (Under Two). My pregnancy with the Tatiman was horrible. I never knew one could vomit so much in a 24 hour period, for so many months on end. The 44 hour labor was the icing on that cake. I was not eager to repeat that experience ever. We considered adoption after I swore I would never, ever, ever serve as a gestational vessel again. But, when it came down to it, we both felt that the Tatiman met our every parenting need. We felt complete. Our little family of three. Bliss.
But we both have siblings. And we both feel special connections to our siblings. And we both started to think about the Tatiman's best interests, and how one day he would have to deal with us as old people, and it would be nice for him to be able to share that load.
And though I had decided I would NEVER choose to get pregnant again, we also decided to leave it up to fate. Apparently fate thought we should get pregnant that week....38 weeks and 36 hour of labor later (an improvement!) we welcomed Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo.
Thus, I accepted my promotion, and began a wholly new adventure.
That's right, my boyS. I've been promoted. Since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Namely 9 months of a difficult pregnancy followed by a comparatively easy 36 hour labor and birth, followed by 2 months of bliss and 5 months of pure H-E-Double Hockey Sticks.
And here we are: Today the Tatiman is 2 years and 5 months old, and his little brother, Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo (not his real full name, although his real full name is almost as long) will be 8 months old next week.
I haven't written because I spent 4 months heaving. Not dry heaving, because I was always sure to eat my daily dose of Mrs. T's Perogies (they come up as easy as they go down—lessons learned during my first pregnancy), but heaving nonetheless.
I haven' t written because I spent the rest of my pregnancy running to high risk docs twice a week to be monitored for a whole bunch of things that turned out to be nothing.
I haven't written because I had a beautiful and peaceful newborn.
I haven't written because that beautiful and peaceful newborn caught a virus at 7 weeks old that required a hospital stay that left him with the horrible 24/7 reflux cycle that goes something like this: SCREAM-eat-barf-SCREAM, rinse and repeat for 5 months.
But really, I haven't written because I felt like I was out of things to say. I was in love with my life. It was easy. It was exciting—in the 'shall we go to the playground, boardwalk, or woods to play today' kind of way. It was perfection. And, who wants to hear somebody ramble about perfection all the time?
But tonight, I saw my boys playing together, and I felt like I had something to say again. So, allow me to ramble. We'll get caught up, and then hopefully I'll keep up. Or not. Such is the life...
We didn't 'plan' on my promotion to Professional Stay at Home Mom of Two (Under Two). My pregnancy with the Tatiman was horrible. I never knew one could vomit so much in a 24 hour period, for so many months on end. The 44 hour labor was the icing on that cake. I was not eager to repeat that experience ever. We considered adoption after I swore I would never, ever, ever serve as a gestational vessel again. But, when it came down to it, we both felt that the Tatiman met our every parenting need. We felt complete. Our little family of three. Bliss.
But we both have siblings. And we both feel special connections to our siblings. And we both started to think about the Tatiman's best interests, and how one day he would have to deal with us as old people, and it would be nice for him to be able to share that load.
And though I had decided I would NEVER choose to get pregnant again, we also decided to leave it up to fate. Apparently fate thought we should get pregnant that week....38 weeks and 36 hour of labor later (an improvement!) we welcomed Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo.
Thus, I accepted my promotion, and began a wholly new adventure.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
When is "Good Enough" well...Good Enough?!?!
I can vividly remember my mother telling me, "Good enough, isn't." She said it when I tried to half-arse a school project, take less-than-enough time to pick out a special gift, or make my bed--barely. Although I can't remember which of her relatives instilled that value in her, I can hear her saying it in my head (when she isn't saying it in person) as I go through my day-to-day tasks.
As I swiftered my kitchen floor today, I caught myself looking at the not-really-sparkling-clean floor, and muttering outloud "It's good enough." But...is it? Yeah, I think so.
Why? Because it's not that important. I clean my floor at least once a week, sometimes 3 or 4 times...and within minutes, it has a mashed blueberry, or a smattering of milkbone crumbs, or (lately) some soup drippings.
I just don't have time to focus on that right now. Yes, I'm a SAHM. Yes, my full time job is to keep my house in order and my son taken care of. Sure, I can always make the time to get down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor...or I can spend that time taking my son to the park, or reading him a story or perfecting our dance moves.
...and anyway, although my floor may not look clean enough to eat off of, if you time it just right, it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet!
As I swiftered my kitchen floor today, I caught myself looking at the not-really-sparkling-clean floor, and muttering outloud "It's good enough." But...is it? Yeah, I think so.
Why? Because it's not that important. I clean my floor at least once a week, sometimes 3 or 4 times...and within minutes, it has a mashed blueberry, or a smattering of milkbone crumbs, or (lately) some soup drippings.
I just don't have time to focus on that right now. Yes, I'm a SAHM. Yes, my full time job is to keep my house in order and my son taken care of. Sure, I can always make the time to get down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor...or I can spend that time taking my son to the park, or reading him a story or perfecting our dance moves.
...and anyway, although my floor may not look clean enough to eat off of, if you time it just right, it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet!
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