The Parent's Hood

11 Months of the Beanaroo

2012-01-23T19:56:00.000-08:00

Dear Millie,
Today, you turned 11 months old.

Holy. Balls.

That's right. Back when you were an infant, your mother said things like Holy. Balls. And wrote them down online, for all the world (and future employers) to see. And she purposely put periods after each word. So as to better emphasize her immaturity.

I tell you this because by the time you're actually reading this, you probably would never believe that such words or expressions could have ever come out of your mother's mouth. Because, by now, I am undoubtedly the sophisticated socialite that I always knew I would one day become. And I probably say things like "Goodness gracious", when proclaiming surprise at something. And that will be without periods between words. I have probably never told you about what a little loud mouth I was back in the day.

I imagine that your father and I currently reside in the same residence as we did when you were just a little one. But that after having won the lottery or some such nonsense, I made your father give me vaulted ceilings so that when I am 60, I won't be sitting in my kitchen, smoking a ciggy and saying: "You know what I always wanted? Vaulted ceilings."

Yep. Balls. Holy ones at that.

*Ahem*

But back to the topic at hand. 11 months, baby girl! You are almost one! We have almost gotten you to the Big Day... your first birthday!

In mostly one piece!

Your 11 month has been a pretty rough one for you. But, who am I kidding? So far, 2012 has not been good to the Nadolski Clan period. But, since this is your letter, we'll stick with what's been going on with you. Because you had some major happenings this month.

To start, you had a wonderful Christmas with your sissy. You obviously had no clue what Christmas was, but you sure loved the Christmas tree and the ornaments. You also loved the wrapping paper and played with that a lot. But I think you really liked Cookie Monster. At least... you liked it for a couple of seconds.

Your little personality is starting to shine through and it's so fun to see how you change every single day. You're still my happy little girl. You're my easy baby and we just love to see you interacting with the world around you daily. So. Much. Fun.

You are getting so close to walking... but it doesn't really seem to interest you that much. You do like to stand on your own and clap your hands and sometimes I can see in your eyes that you're just a touch curious, but when it comes down to it, you'd rather just plop on your butt and take off at mach speed on your hands and knees. Usually towards whatever your sister is doing. Just so you can mess with her. Oh, you LOVE to mess with your sister. You love to try to take away whatever toy she is playing with... and when she won't let you, you quickly get revenge by pulling her hair. And I'm telling you now, baby girl... the fact that she hasn't pulled back and smacked you speaks to her gentle personality. Not sure how much longer that will last... cuz she's kinda getting over it. I've tried warning you... but you just don't seem to care. All you know is that you have to be where she is. And you have to screw with her. ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.

You get that from your Aunt KC.

Right after Christmas, you came down with a little strep butt. Yep. Strep butt. Bet you didn't know you could get that, right? Neither did your Mommy. Which is why Hazel then got strep butt a few days after you were diagnosed. Because the two of you love some tubby time together. And I've found that it's a great way to save time removing dirt... and sharing germs!

About a week after that debacle, you started to cough. It wasn't a bad cough. Just a little one. I was leaving for a conference in Indianapolis the next day, so I took you to the doctor on a whim...fully expecting her to pat me on the back and say that it was just a head cold, so chill out, Mommy. But, she didn't. Even though you had no other signs besides a mild cough, they ran an RSV test on you and it came back positive.

This meant that Daddy had to take the week off of work to care for you at home... and this also meant that because we caught it early, it was gonna get bad. And it did. Daddy was amazing... he had to take you to the RSV clinic once at midnight and then spent the rest of the week holding you and controlling your temp. You became pretty needy and clingy in that week... and to be honest, I think even though it meant you were sick, Daddy reveled in it because you're really not one to snuggle. But that's exactly what you wanted to do. And the only way you would sleep was on him. And since he never got to experience that with you because you were born with an independent streak (and a preference for Mommy, anyway) it was pretty special for him.

Of course, once I got home from my business trip, Daddy handed you over and went fishing cuz he needed some alone time. I don't blame him. Being a parent... hard. Being a single parent? I don't even want to think about it. Not sure either of us would survive as a single parent! Much respect to those who do. MUCH.

I stayed home with you Friday and then we spent the weekend as a family... dealing with you being sick and your sister having some serious cabin fever. I then spent Tuesday with you in the hospital because you were a little dehydrated. Um... so, yea... if you ever have a baby and have to hold her down while he/she gets an IV, I recommend heavy drinking to numb your pain. Because that's just the worst thing. EVER. Poor kiddo... I really felt like I put you through the ringer... but you weren't drinking and you weren't peeing. We were only supposed to be there a couple of hours. And four hours later when you accidentally pulled out the IV when it got caught on the crib when you lost your balance and fell... well, if the nurses had said we were going to do another IV, heads would have rolled. Thankfully, I think they suspected this and let us go home.

There's a whole story about where your Daddy was during this time. One that I may or may not decide to blog about. Because, while it's a funny story of strange circumstances and coincidences... and his absence really was the fault of Verizon, and not him.... well, I was pretty mad at your Daddy and even now, a week later, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say, I'm glad I have him as my mate because it turns out, I'm a bit needy. Especially when it comes to emotional support when my 10-month-old is getting an IV.

Anyhoo.... you have bounced back marvelously in the last few days. You're back in school and are loving playing with the other kids. You are standing a lot. And you are so verbal. You love to be sung to, which is often the only way I can ever change your diaper. But, like your sister at this age, changing your diaper and getting you dressed every day is similar to shoving an octopus into a wet paper bag.

Your laugh is infectious and you and your sissy love to make each other laugh. You like to blow bubbles at your sister and you love Eskimo kisses from Mommy. You love playing peek-a-boo with your blankie. Oh yes... the blankie that we finally were able to wash the other day because you're taking just the one nap per day now. Yes.... one nap per day. And man... that's coming in handy with your sister's schedule. Now if we could only get your sissy to nap consistently we'd be set. Some days she'll nap for 3 hours, other days she won't nap. Her average is 1.5 hours... but I'm telling you, when we can get the two of you down at the same time... even if it's just for 30 minutes... it's a total recharge for Mommy and Daddy. And we're not ready to give up on those 30 minutes of alone time so we'll continue to push nappy time with your sissy, and hope that you keep doing what you're doing.

One of your favorite games right now is opening and shutting the door. It's usually your sister shutting the door on you, which causes you to squeal with delight. And causes Mommy to cringe every time I hear the door slam shut because I know that one of these days? Some cute little fingers or toes are going to get slammed in the door. And that will not do. But for how, Hazel seems to be aware of this... somehow. I don't know. I may just be rationalizing and tonight will be the night that the fingers get broken. That's usually the way things roll in our house.

You have a few other games you love. And they all involve things that could kill you. You love to open up the cabinet under the sink... you know, where we keep all the cleaning agents. The one that we're in a lot so we keep forgetting to lock it? That one. You also love to play with the outlets in the house. LOVE IT. I can't keep you away from them. We never had that big of an issue with Hazel and outlets, but you? You're killing me with your fascination with them. Which goes right along with your fascination of anything that has an electrical cord that you can chew on, or wrap around your neck. I think the dangers there speak for themselves.

You're also a big fan of Mommy's laptop and it doesn't matter where you are in the house, if I sit down and open my computer, you can sense it... and the next thing I know, you're right there, wanting to see what I'm doing and if possibly, smash your hands against the buttons and destroy it. You also have a fascination with the remote control. But only if there are batteries in it. Because if I take out a battery so that you don't accidentally program our TV to Spanish, you suddenly lose all interest. You just know that the remote is now completely useless and you are therefore not going to waste your time.

It's fascinating. You're too smart for your own good. And you're definitely too smart for Mommy's good.

All in all... it's good to be you.

Love you, baby girl.
Mama

Crossfit

2012-01-06T21:56:00.000-08:00

I've been debating about writing this post for quite some time. For the simple reason that there are a lot of "haters" out there who have a lot to say... about something that they don't really know about. And I just really don't want to hear about it anymore.

But recently, I've been getting a lot of questions from people who are genuinely interested in Crossfit... something that I hold a deep passion for. They ask me to sell them on Crossfit. Just like, I guess, I sold people on how amazing running a marathon or a half-ironman... or eating my weight in Cadbury eggs each Spring was. (True story.)(BTW... Easter's not that far away.)(If you're looking to get me something from the Easter Bunny.)

I try to temper my advice to them with the caveat that not all Crossfit gyms are the same. And I can say without a shadow of a doubt that my Crossfit gym? Totally better than your Crossfit gym. Sorry. True story. I lurve it.

And I know that Crossfit... not for everyone. It isn't. But if it is for you and you're willing to work through the pain of not being able to hold a fork or reach for a glass of ~~wine~~ , ~~beer~~, water for the first 3 weeks of it, then you'll graduate to just being perpetually sore. For the rest of your life.

And it will make you feel ALIVE.

I want to be clear that I am not an ultimate crossfitter. I still can't do a pull-up without a band. I still struggle with box jumps (so sad because that used to be my thing in college!) and burpees. I still can't do a muscle up because I'm so afraid I'm going to pop a ligament in my sternum like a roomie of mine did in college. I have yet to figure out how to climb the rope. I'm slow and my butt still jiggles at the most inopportune times.

That being said... I cannot do without it. For those of you who are interested in checking out crossfit, my recommendation is to make sure that your instructors are interactive and give you feedback about correct lifting techniques. Otherwise, you'll get hurt and YOU'LL BLAME ME. And I've already got the 2-year-old blaming me not cutting up her banana the exact same way as I do for the kid without any teeth, so I don't need that on my plate.

Whichever gym you go to, I would recommend determining if they have a beginners class that they offer to teach you the basics. If not, don't waste your time and money.

Okay, there's so much more I could get into on what you should or should not expect from Crossfit, but instead, let's just talk about my Crossfit gym: Crossfit Ogden.

And why I heart it to death... by thrusters. (Look at me with the crossfit jokes!)(LOSER.)

My Crossfit gym has helped me gain the strength I need to carry two screaming children up and down the stairs at day care, in a skirt and heels... without breaking a sweat. Sure... I'm muttering curse words under my breath, but the point is I'm not out of breath. Point, Crossfit.

My Crossfit gym has introduced me to some absolutely amazing and genuine people. People I have Facebooked. And, I'll be honest, I'm discerning when it comes to friending peeps on Facebook. I see no need to have 700 "friends". We didn't talk to each other in high school... why do you want to be friends now? I can barely stand you IRL, why do I care what you had for breakfast? But, I digress. The point is, I've been to a lot of gyms in my life... A. LOT.... but none of them have been as welcoming and gracious and supportive as every single instructor and fellow crossfitter as my gym.

My Crossfit gym expects the most out of me. And therefore, I expect the most out of myself. Something I haven't really experienced since I stopped training for triathlon. Because I got lonely out there swimming, running and biking by myself. I can honestly say, I've never felt alone or lonely in my gym.

My Crossfit gym cares about me as a person. They care about my physical body. They care about my heart and my soul. I even think they care about these damn love handles that won't go away. They care about the rib that popped out of place when picking up a dolly for Hazel while driving... LEST THE WORLD END.

My Crossfit gym has a crossfitter that is a massage therapist who may be the best in the world. Tha. World. This and this alone is worth the pain I go through for crossfit.

My Crossfit gym makes sure that I know they have missed me when I've been sick or traveling for a few weeks. From the instructor to the crossfitters. That's a community feeling that is contagious.

My Crossfit gym makes me a better wife, mother, friend and employee. Although, maybe not so much a better driver as I have been a little blurry more than once after a workout and probably shouldn't have been allowed behind the wheel.

My Crossfit gym thinks I'm strong. And so I think I'm strong.

My Crossfit gym suspects that there is a skinny bitch inside me and is going to help me get her out.

My Crossfit gym has the capability of breaking me in half... but will be there to support me through the tears and frustration and won't even make fun of the 34-year-old crying in the corner because it hurt so much to do 50 burpees.

My Crossfit gym doesn't judge when I pee my pants during double-unders. In fact, the women (and husbands of crossfitters) celebrate it with me. YAY! You have kids! Welcome to jump roping for the rest of your life!

My Crossfit gym does not allow meatheads, but still has some absolutely amazing athletes workout there.

My Crossfit gym doesn't mind if I ogle certain other crossfitters who take their shirts off during a workout. Men and women. And, neither does Benny, because he's truly impressed as well.

My Crossfit is going to get me to the point that I can be one of those said women who take off their shirts for a workout.

My Crossfit, has given me back my quads. Things I haven't had since college. 12 years, two babies and many, many poundaroos ago.

I am continually hopeful the my Crossfit gym will eventually give me back my ankles and calves. And perhaps my waist. It will come. It's just gonna hurt like hell.

And I'm gonna love every. single. minute. of it.

The Bean Months 9 & 10

2011-12-27T14:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Millie,
I can't believe that you're 10 months old. I can't believe I didn't write your 9 month update. I can't believe that you don't seem to care all that much that your mother is a complete and total slacker. Yet, anyway. I'm sure the day will come. I gotta get my act together, don't I? Cuz today you're 10 months, tomorrow you're 19 and taking the world by storm. Not that you're not already doing that but... Yowza! Time is flying by!

You have grown in leaps and bounds in the last two months. So much so that I'm worried I won't be appropriately capture the enormity of the changes that have taken place with you lately with mere words.

First... let's have a round of applause to the Mommy who didn't document when her baby finally graduated from an army-man crawl to a full-fledged LOOKOUTHERESHECOMES! crawl. That's right... you finally put 2 and 2 together and got a serious case of The Mobility on Thanksgiving. You took your first legitimate crawl in front of all of your grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was so very cool! And when you did it, you got this twinkle in your eye as if to say: "Whoa. That. Was. Awesome. I'm gonna do that again." And you haven't slowed down one bit since then. This gives us a great glimpse into your future.

You love to be in the middle of things with your newfound mobility. And you like to tease your older sister to the point that brain matter drips out of her ears when you touch or look at her dolly or her blanket or her blocks... or her Daddy. You find it very entertaining.

You went through a weird little thing when your turned 9 months. You were waking up in the night to eat. Which was abnormal for you because you had been throwing down 12-14 hour sleeps for months prior. We quickly did some research and made an educated guess that it was because you were refusing to eat your baby food in the evenings. So, you'd wake up at 8, 12 or 3 and need to be fed again. I never have gotten legitimately mad at you, Mills... but I was really frustrated and remember telling your Daddy that: "This bleep needs to end. Now. Of COURSE she's hungry. SHE WON'T FREAKIN' EAT! BLEEEEEP!!!"

(*I actually did say bleep. Because your older sister is a verbal sponge right now and I'm already THAT mom.)(And now, the horn on the bus goes bleep, bleep, bleep... rather than beep, beep, beep.)(Who knew?)

Anyway, after carefully rehashing all of the what if's that could be causing this weird behavior, we decided that maybe you just didn't like the baby food we were forcing down your gullet. So we started to slowly let you have some real food. And the verdict? Holy cow... there are not enough hands in the world to shove all of the bananas, peas, spaghetti, pancakes and yes, pizza down your gullet to satisfy you! It's as if you were starving yourself in a protest to have real food.

The problem is that up until about a week ago, you still only had your two bottom teeth. Last week, your two top teeth started to come in, but they're taking their own sweet time about it. And while you can gum pretty much anything, I still hesitated to give you real food for the very real fear that you would choke. And, yes... I'll admit that you've choked no less than three times since we started giving you food. And one time it was serious enough that I had to pull you out of your seat and administer first aid by slapping you on the back until you threw up a little bit. But you refuse to go back to the pureed foods. So, we've been feeding you a lot of soup, rice, eggs, toast, peas and yogurt. Sometimes... at the same time.

And you couldn't be happier.

And in the last week, you've had two more teeth start to pop through... so you're in a little bit of pain, although the only way we know this is that you finally hit a 2 on the Fussiness Scale. So we give you things to gnaw on. Like a cracker. Or my neck. And then give you the Tylenol. And that seems to work just fine.

You are loving tubby time with your sissy these days. You absolutely love splashing with her and there's nothing in this world that melts my heart more than hearing and seeing the two of you playing together. Even if it means we go through towels at twice the normal rate due to all the splashing. TOTALLY WORTH IT.

You have become so interactive in the last two months. You smile first thing in the morning, you smile all through the day... you just smile all the time. You love to laugh... although you never really get those uncontrollable giggles that your sissy used to. But you definitely laugh more overall. I theorize that these are just polite laughs so that Mommy doesn't feel like an idiot for making faces at you and getting no reaction, and that you have quite the discerning sense of humor. But, when you really find something funny, you REALLY find it funny.

And either way, you always end up in hiccups.

And the thing that you find the most funny right now? Your sissy. Oh, my... you think she's the greatest thing since sliced bananas. You especially find her funny during nekkid time right after tubby time. Nekkid time is when we let the both of you run/crawl around nekkid and hijinks ensue. And as long as those hijinks don't end up with Mommy cleaning up said "hijinks", I'm totally cool with it. And a house full of laughter and love? That's my overall goal in being a Mommy.

You continue to be a great sleeper and only occasionally wake up and need a bottle. Since you've been on real food, that happens fewer and farther between. You continue to be a Mama's girl. And I cannot tell you how endearing it is when you see me and your face lights up as if to say: "Yes!!! There's my people! I'm gonna drool on you now to show you just how much I lurve you!"

You recently moved into a transitional car seat. Which, let's me honest... you're not a big fan of. There's just something about it that upsets you. But you were just too big for your carrier. It was like trying to shove a pound of dough into an 8 oz cup. It just didn't look good, and couldn't have been comfortable. I just think that you're big on routine. And the uncomfortable car seat was your routine. And since we changed that, well... someone has definitely moved your cheese and every time we get into the car and you see that, yep, it's still there... OMG!! NOT THE CHAIR! ANYTHING BUT THE CHAIR!!!

Every morning for day care.

Every evening after day care.

For the last two months.

So... that's been fun. The only redeeming quality is that you have a better view of your sissy and out the back of the car, so once we actually get you in the seat, you seem to be just fine. As long as we're moving. And your sissy is paying attention to you. You did NOT like the trip to Phoenix when we gave her a laptop to watch Lion King on and she ignored you. That was so not cool with you.

You're still going to bed pretty early every evening. Usually by 6:30. You're starting to already transition out of two naps and just take the one during the day. Which is nice because if we play our cards right and you cooperate by throwing down a decent nap on the weekends, Mommy and Daddy have some quiet time while both you and your sissy nap. It's heavenly. The drawback to the one nappy is that you're down by 6:30... and sometimes at day care, you've only had a 30 minute nap all day and then... yes, that means a short night with you. But when you've had a good nappy, we'll keep you up until 7 or even 7:30, depending on how things are going. You immediately know the drill when we go into your room and depending on how tired you are, you'll rest your head on our shoulder and we get to sway with you for approximately 5.4 seconds before you demand to be put in your crib. Other nights, as soon as the lights go out, you push away and when we put you down and give you your blankie, you're a goner.

Oh, your blankie. You loves you some blankie. As long as you have your blankie, all is right in your world. Apparently, if you see your blankie in your bed at day care, you crawl right over, hollering the whole way, and pull it out so you can snuggle with it. So, when you've gotten a bit fussy at home, I'll grab your blankie and give it to you and... I'll be damned. It works. You loves you some blankie. I gotta figure out when to wash that thing... it's getting pretty rank.

You are such a joy in our lives, Millie. We thank our stars every day for you and the joy you've brought to our family. I cannot imagine my life without you. I cannot imagine our family being complete without you.

We love you, Mills.

Love,
Mama

Hazel 25 & 26 Month Updates

2011-12-27T13:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Hazel,
Well.... it's been a couple of months since I wrote to you last. Andhonestly... it's good that I didn't write to you during that time. Because things have been a little strained between the two of us since yourbirthday.

And it wouldn't have been a nice letter.

And you would have ended up in therapy.

I'm a giver, that way.

I would like to say I don't know why things have been sorough. But the truth is, I do know why. It's because yourmother is a bit of a head-strong idiot who apparently has a low threshold for2-year-old behavior... and has had to learn some lessons in mothering the hardway.

It's like that with everything I do, by the way. So.. we really shouldn'tbe surprised.

The last two months of your life have left me feeling eerily similar to howI felt during the first two months of your life. When I was absolutelyconvinced that I was unfit to be a mother and there were probably better peoplein this world that were capable of raising you. (Maybe a pack of wolves?)And that you would probably be more than happy to be with them, anyway.

But... Mommy did some quick growing up in the last couple of months... andalso toughened up the callouses on her soul, so that she doesn't have ameltdown whenever YOU have a meltdown. And things have been going muchbetter since then.

So, on to bigger and better things, right? Let's start with how muchyou are talking these days. Oh my God, baby girl... you are a chatterbox. And you're really into saying "K?" and"Huh?" Both of these, by the way, usually follow someincoherent babble and we've taken to just nodding - as though we understandwhat you just asked us - and saying "Yea!"

The problem is, sometimes we've thought it was just nonsense talking withthe "K?", but as soon as we say "Yea!", you get a twinklein your eye and run off to the bathroom. Presumably to drink the bleachor take a tubby in the toilet. So, we've had to curb our immediate yea'sfor now.

You have been throwing more than your fair share of fits these days. It's the easiest way to get what you want.

NOT.

No... you throw afit and then Mommy and Daddy decide to engage in this never ending powerstruggle with a 2-year-old. And can I just say for a moment, thatkinda makes me proud? You get your stubborness from me. But I'mblaming your temper on your Daddy. So, while it's his DNA that hasyou blowing your top when your banana breaks, it's my DNA that won't letyou let go of the fact that YOUR. BANANA. IS. BROKEN. No matter how manyother bananas you are offered.

Honestly, baby girl... if you make it out of the toddler years completelysane, it will be a freakin' miracle.

Anyhoo... we think we've got a handle on your tantrums now. You areoften sent to your room to freak out alone. Mama just doesn't want tohear it anymore. And you kinda, sorta LOVE being in your room byyourself. Almost as much as you love freaking out. Which... DON'TLIE... you really dig, don't you? Oh, I know.

You still love to color and paint and read. And I've been surprised byhow much more you're enjoying playing by yourself. Especially with yourbabies. And my baby (Millie). Oh, you loves you some Millietime. Your favorite game right now is turning off your bedroom light andshutting your door with you and your sissy in the room. It does my heartso good to hear little giggles from the two of you when you're playingtogether. And for the most part, you're still very gentle with her. And if you do hurt her (on purpose or accidentally) you are quick to saysorry and give her a hug... which is awesome.)

Your second favorite game right now is: Daddy, Lay Down. Thisgame is one that your father adores as well. Because all it entails himdoing is laying down on the floor in your room and letting you cover him with 5blankets and then let you pat his back and kiss him on the cheek. Heespecially loves this game after working out.

You also love to play on the potty. And to tell Mommy and Daddy thatyou have to potty, take all of your clothes off and go sit on the potty... anddo NOTHING. We've taken to just leaving you in there to do your thang cuzwe can't spend the next 30 minutes watching you sit. Luckily, you alsolove naked time so this is not a problem for you. And as long as youdon't pee or poop on the floor (again) we'll allow it to continue. In my opinion... you can never have too much naked time as a kid. You have your whole life to have to conform to societies standards of clothing....use naked time as much as you can, kiddo. Pretty soon, you'll be 34,have two kiddos and hate to see yourself naked.

Speaking of naked time, the other day you took off your shirt and told yourDaddy you wanted to go outside. I should mention now that it was about 10degrees outside when you decided this would be a reasonable request. Daddy asked you to put on a jacket and you said: "Wanna go outsidewith my body," while slapping your chest to emphasize the innocent skinthat was about to be frostbitten. Because your Daddy decided it wasn't abattle he was willing to fight. And let you go outside. Without ashirt.

About a minute into the Toddler Freeze Out of 2011, you asked for acoat. And wore it the rest of the day. Inside and out. Cuzyou're a quick learner, that way. But... we've never had to fight you toput on a coat since then, so I guess Daddy's gamble paid off.

You love to help in the kitchen. Whenever we're cooking or cleaning,you're right there.... breaking the eggs, and dropping them on the floor orstanding on the door of the dishwasher as you try to reach for the sharpestknife to ~~run around with~~ put away. Incredibly helpful. You even got your own vacuum for Christmas and whenever we pull our vacuum out,you get yours out and follow us around with it... picking up anything we mayhave missed.

You loved helping decorate the tree for Christmas. We purposely bought a Charlie Brown tree so that it would take me 30 seconds to decorate. An hour later, I finally cried Uncle and let you do most of the work.

It turned out okay, though. You and your sissy did a good job.

Speaking of Christmas, you met Santa Claus for the first time this year. I know, I know... it's terrible that you're two and this is the first time we've bothered introducing you to Santa. But, see... the first year, you were only 3 months old. And the second year, I was pregnant up to my eyeballs and just didn't have the energy or the patience to deal with finding a non-pervy Santa for you to visit with. Turns out that the Christmas Village had one that intrigued you.

Plus, you got to check out where his elves work!

When we drove to Arizonafor Thanksgiving with Daddy's family, you watched The Lion King almost theentire way there and back. You loved it. You loved the sights, thesounds, the music. But, apparently, you mostly like Pumba. Youknow... the warthog who could clear the savannah after every meal? He's a sensitive soul, though he seems thick-skinned. And it hurt, thathis friends never stood downwind... and OH THE SHAME!....

Ahem... yes, Mommy and Daddy now have that song memorized as well. Anyway, out of nowhere a few days ago, you started saying poma? poma?poma? We had no idea what it was, so we just started repeating it back toyou.... much to your delight. Eventually, it morphed from poma, to puma,to pony, to bunny, to ping-ying, to Pumba. And once we hit Pumba, you gotreally excited and YES! THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING ALL ALONG! HAKUNAMATATA! It tickled you pink, sweetie. And ever since that fateful daywhenever you walk into the house after school, you go up to Daddy andsay: Pumba? It never fails to crack us all up. It. Is.Awesome.

You continue to be a Daddy's girl. Who am I kidding? You're giving a new definition to the term Daddy's Girl. For the love... you CANNOT and WILL NOT share him with anyone. Not Mommy. Not Millie. Not the kitchen. Nothing. It's getting pretty old, this "My Daddy" phase. One that we're not sure you're ever going to grow out of. And it's terrifying.

You're going through a thing right now. A thing where you wake up once or twice a night screaming for My Daddy... or occasionally My Mommy. Or sometimes it's just screaming. I think that you're having nightmares or something... so it doesn't seem right not to go to you and comfort you. But man... Mama needs her sleep!!! This phase needs to run it's course cuz I am kind of over it.

The last two months, Mommy and Daddy have been seriously considering buyinga mini-van. And for this, I blame you. Mommy's only requirement ofbeing a Mommy was that she never be reduced to driving a mini-van. Because Mommy is shallow and judged other mommies in mini-vans. Andthought that she could still pull off "hip" Mommy if she continued todrive an SUV vs a minivan. But "hip" Mommy in the SUV isquickly being reduced to "losing her mind" Mommy in the SUV becauseyou are KILLING HER with your refusal to get into the car seat and yourinsistence on getting in on your own... and then freaking out when Mommy hashad enough and forcibly puts you into the seat. Because it's 7 degreesoutside and IT'S TIME TO GO.

So... yes, if we ever get a mini-van, it's all your fault. I'll be"mini-van" Mommy. That and my shoes are a dead giveaway,according to my fellow Mommy-In-Arms, Erica. And I will tell you this ifyou ever complain about how lame our car is: "Well,we had a Pilot. But you screwed that up so now we get thismini-van. Make your peace with it, kid. I did."

You still don't quite "get" Christmas. Although, you do loveyou some Christmas Carols. Like Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman. Youalso know who Santa Claus is. But I don't think you understand the magicthat is Santa Claus. I can't wait for you to get that. My parentsalways made Christmastime really magical and special for us, and I hope to dothe same for you.

You and I have been spending a lot of time doing crafts and making cookies and gingerbread houses for the holidays. And if I can ever get you to stop eating the cookie dough or the candies for the houses, I wouldn't end up covered in flour and sugar while sweating profusely. But you know what? TOTALLY WORTH IT.

It is so fun to watch you learn new things every day. It seems likeyou learn a new word or a new action every day. You mimic everything we do, andI'm constantly blown away at the enormity that falls upon us as parents tochildren in today's world. I'm telling you... you can easily blowit. And I hope and pray every day that I don't.

You keep us on our toes, kid. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

Love,
Mama

Bedazzled

2011-12-21T15:26:00.000-08:00

Well. That was fun.

And cathartic. Which is the whole reason for this blog, right?

Let's all take a deep breath in... and out. And try to remember that it's Christmas, and we're supposed to be full of love, joy and egg nog. (Side note: How much do I loves me some egg nog?)

I guess I should probably write Millie and Hazel's 9 month and 25 month updates. As their 10 month and 26 month updates are due in a couple of days. But, I'm not. I'm putting it off for just one more day. Because I need to talk about something other than the kiddos. Whom, I feel like I need to clarify, I love more than life itself. I would do anything for those two. Yes... even including The Toddler. Because, let's face it... she's making me a better parent every day. And sometimes when you work a muscle that has never been worked (like my parenting muscle, for example)(it actually sits low in my belly and makes me want to vomit from time-to-time) it hurts. A lot. But that hurt makes it stronger. So, theoretically, by the time Millie hits the Terrible Two's, I'll be an amazing mother. And she won't have nearly the damage that I've done to Hazel.

That's the theory anyway.

Could go out the window in a split second, though... considering she's the polar opposite of her big sis.

Anyhoo.... today, taking a page from my girl Momo, I'm writing a quick little post about things I'm grateful for. In my defense, I will grant you that many of the things I am grateful for may end up being shallow. That's how you know I wrote it and not someone pretending to be the strongest woman in the world... who accidentally taught her 2-year-old the F word.

1 - My husband. When I said "I do" to Benny in 2003, I had no idea what an amazing life we would be able to build together. He is, quite simply, amazing to me in every way.

2 - My girls. I cannot imagine my life without the rugrats. They are beautiful souls sent to this earth to cut me down to size, and to teach me humility and love. I thought I knew love before I had them. I HAD NO IDEA.

3 - Crossfit. Specifically Crossfit Ogden. How I heart thee. If you weren't in my life, I would be a terrible mother, wife and employee. With your help, I shoot right up to mediocre in all aspects... and that is HUGE.

4 - Amazon.com. Is it just me, or does having to actually leave the house to shop seem like a ginormous waste of time? Does finding a parking space seem a pain worthy of morphine? This is why God invented Amazon.com.

5 - My mother for making sure that I never identified with Barbie and all of that other crap that is out there for girls to compare themselves to. There are so many legitimate things in this world to worry about... looking like a model? Not one of them.

6 - Tubby Time. Oh my, do the girls love tubby time! Even Millie, who was slow to adopt her love of baths (much like me with my love of beer) gets into it now. Tubby time gives at least one of the parents a few minutes of solitude (which inevitably ends up being housework) while the other one sings songs while torturing The Toddler by washing her hair... and cajoles The Baby when The Toddler's screams freak her out. But, besides the hair washing, both girls adore playing in the water. Millie lets me know when she's had enough. She pulls herself up to a standing position and looks at me as if to say: We're done here. I'll take her out, dry her off and the let her stand outside the tub and watch her sissy. It's a great way to kill time AND get the stank out from behind the kiddos ears. Twofer! Some parents do arts and crafts. I do tubby time. It works.

7 - Kale salad. Enough said.

8 - The Lord's Prayer. WHAT? Yea, yea... not what you think. I'm grateful that all of the tv watching I've done for years prepared me properly for reciting the prayer during my god daughter's christening last week. Look at that... not even sure if christening is spelled right. Or if it should be capitalized. Is god daughter one word or two? Not sure. But you know what? I KNOW THE LORD'S PRAYER. I may not be sure that the Lord only has the one prayer. And I may not be convinced that His will is being done on earth as it is in heaven. Matter of fact, I think he's got better things to do with his will than decide if the Denver Bronco's should win. Hey, I'm not even sure there is a Lord. But I do know that this little recovering Mormon out Lord's Prayered her recovering Catholic husband's arse on Saturday.

9 - Speaking of the Denver Broncos.... I am ridiculously grateful that the Patriot's put an end to the "miracle" that is Tim Tebow... and those other guys he plays with. Look... it's not that I'm offended that he prays during games. And it's not that I'm offended that people are talking about it and how God must surely be with him. It's just that I think that God/Buddah/The Flying Spaghetti Monster has better things to do with his/her/its time than help some quarterback who couldn't throw a diaper to me if it was more than 8 yards, win a game. Simple as that. And people who think differently may have to lick my armpit.

10 - Louis CK. He has made my dismal days of parenting a little brighter.

11 - My Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. Complete with gifts under the tree. This is the first year we've ever bothered with gifts. I can't wait to start a tradition with the girls like my parents did for me!

12 - Friends who think that when I put oats and cupcake sprinkles in a bag and attach it to a note claiming that it's reindeer food... that I have actually been crafty. Little do they know that one time I bedazzled the hell out of Hazel's stocking.

The Never Ending Story

2011-12-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

Note: I wrote this post Sunday night after a particularly rough ~~weekend~~. ~~week~~. MONTH. I didn't post it because I wasn't sure I was in the right frame of mind to send this out into the webiverse. After a couple of days reflection, I've decided that it is what it is. Judge me if you must. And if you do judge, I'll know for certain one thing about you. You. Don't. Have. Kids. So you don't get to experience the great misery that is the absolute joy of kids. You miss out on the Empire State building highs, and the Swamp of Sadness lows. And for that... I just feel sorry for you.

So, without further ado:

-------------------

Benny made me leave the house tonight to get some "me" time. Something about unresolved anger issues towards The Toddler.

And possibly motherhood in general.

I know that as of late, I've been posting some pretty negative/pathetic things about what life is like right now with a 2-year-old and a 10-month-old. And, if I were being honest, I would clarify that most of what I finally manage to write down on the blog has been edited to within an inch of its life. Because not only am I worried that you'll judge what I REALLY think about being a mom on some days, I'm also aware that the girls will one day read this blog.

And then end up in (more) therapy.

If I'm being honest, I'm positive that my 2-year-old hates me. And these days? I'm not so much a fan of her, either. Thank God for Benny, as he is the only buffer. Hazel has a serious case of the "My Daddy's"... and she really could care less for me. Which is fine with me because most days I want to tell her to go hell. But I don't. Because I'm the strongest woman in the world. And because she's picking up words right and left these days.

If I'm being honest, if we had gone through this stage with Hazel before we got pregnant with Millie... well, I seriously doubt there would have ever been a Millie.

If I'm being honest, I thank God for Millie every day. Because while Hazel can turn to Daddy when things get rough between the two of us (approximately every 2.5 seconds), I can turn to Millie and know that at least with this one, I haven't messed up too much. Yet.

If I'm being honest, I'm pretty mucking fiserable these days. I always thought of myself as a chill, relaxed parent. One that, sure... has had my moments of blowing up at The Toddler. But those were few and far between. (Approximately every 2.6 seconds). And one thing that I always told myself (pre-children) was that I wouldn't be a yeller when I had kids. Not my style. I'm better than that. How could someone yell at a child???

If I'm being honest? It's scary how easy it is to yell at a child. It's amazing how hard it is to tamp down those emotions. Especially when it's diaper changing time and someone keeps kicking me in an effort to actually maim and injure.

And it's SO. NOT. OKAY.

No child of mine is going to kick/punch/bite/hit me and get away with it. She is not in charge around here and while I know that it's mostly our fault that she thinks she is... it's also a leetle bit of HER fault. And she needs to get her schmidt together because these Terrible Two's? Mommy is so OVER them.

And I'm doing all this work to fix myself so that I don't live the next few years of my life in hiding so as not to poke the bear that currently lives with us and tells us what to do.

And she's NOT.

She doesn't care.

And it's bullshit.

It is.

If I have to work on something, I think it's completely acceptable to ask The Toddler... who outfoxes me, her Daddy and her teacher on a daily basis, so we know she's not an idiot... to work on her schmidt, as well.

Fine. She can't read Parenting with Love and Logic (courtesy of my good friend, Mr. Texas), cuz she can't read (supposedly). But she can attempt to meet me halfway and not throw a fit when her banana breaks in half. Or her dolly looked at her wrong. Or when Mommy has the audacity to expect a little cooperation in some areas of life... or at the very least, not have every. single. situation. turn into a power struggle.

For example, ~~sometimes~~ when Mommy says: Please don't shut the baby's head in the door... IT'S NOT A QUESTION. It is not a choice. There is no yes or no answer. There just is NOT SHUTTING THE BABY'S HEAD IN THE DOOR.

If I'm being honest, at times I feel like Artax from Never Ending Story... right before he dies in the Swamp of Sadness. If Artax was a stubborn 34-year-old mule who just couldn't go on because her 2-year-old is driving her batshit crazy. And if Artax thought she was the greatest parent in the world before she had kids. And if Artax actually complained about this stuff even though she knows parents who have it WAY worse.

In short, if Artax was a self-absored ass.

Yep. That'd be me.

And for all of you 30-somethings out there that now want to go ahead and rent NeverEnding Story (as it may be the greatest story every)(and as it will remind you of your youth and how amazing things were back then)(and make you realize that you haven't been using your imagination much lately)(which means that The Nothing has won), you are completely welcome.

The Teaching Moment

2011-12-12T21:15:00.000-08:00

The last few weeks with Hazel have been hard. Really hard. Hard enough that we've questioned our ability to right the ship that is Hazel In 2-Year-Old Mode. Nothing... not Benny in Taper Mode, not Jaynee in Pregnancy Week 39 Mode, not Millie in Diaper Diva Mode can compare to the wrath and the extreme mood swings of Hazel in 2-Year-Old Mode.

So, there hasn't been a whole lot in our house to be jolly about so far this Christmas. If Hazel's not crying about her sister playing with her favorite block (out of a possible 30 blocks to choose from, she chose the one that Hazel has a strong bond with), she's whining that she wants milk. Or water. Or sweat from a baby albino elephant. And, as I may have alluded to before... it sorta, kinda BLOWS to live with The ~~Terrorist~~ Toddler these days.

But tonight... tonight was one of those nights where, okay... yea, not exactly what we thought about when we first started talking about having kids a few years ago. But, by God... when you look past the poop on the ground right outside the bathroom, and come to grips with the fact that you actually saw the poop coming out of The Toddler's butt, but you were momentarily paralyzed and were only able to utter: "Nnnnnnoooooooooo!" as you watched it fall on the wood floor with a soft "plop"... these are the moments (actually it's the moments following that exact moment) that bring us closer together and make us a family. These are the moments that you tell your Mommy friends about the next day, if only to give them a heads up while subconsciously rubbing your hands together thinking: "I can't WAIT for this to happen to you."

These are the types of things that you and your husband handle very efficiently at the time. Without even verbalizing it, you both go into survival mode. "You get the poop and The Toddler, I'll get the baby." The baby who was inches from making an already bad poopy situation EVEN WORSE. The baby who just wants to be in the middle of things. Be it the kitchen while we cook breakfast... or the three little nuggets of poop that her sister just dropped off in the hallway.

Later, after the kids are in bed, the hallway has been sanitized and you've both had a glass of wine... THAT'S when you reflect on what happened that night. And bring things up that the other thought you may not have noticed in the haze that is Parenthood.

You bring up things like the fact that after the poop had been picked up off the floor and put in the toilet, Daddy spent an uncomfortable amount of time waving goodbye to the poopy as it swirled around the toilet. While The Toddler quickly lost interest and found Daddy's toothbrush and commenced brushing her teeth. While Daddy still stood there, waving - yes, WAVING - at what can only be described as Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Poo and his two little friends and saying "Bye-bye, poopie! Bye-bye!!!"

At the time, when I asked him what he was doing, the man shushed me... actually shushed me... and said: "It's a teaching moment."

The jury is out on who taught who what.

But my money is on Hazel.

Because she figured out how to get Daddy to talk to poop.

Mama Don't Play That

2011-12-07T10:27:00.001-08:00

We don't hit Mommy. We don't hit Mommy. WE. DON'T. HIT. MOMMY.

How many times did I have to say that this morning? How many meltdowns is is possible for a 2-year-old to have in the 90 minutes between waking up and leaving for school?

So far? Our personal record is 5.

FIVE. MELT. DOWNS.

Five timeouts.

Five times I had to remind myself that I chose to bring this demon into our lives.

Five times I had to remind myself that she's not actually a demon. Just two-ish. (A demonic two-ish.)

Five times I had to breathe in and out and tamp down the simmering volcano inside of me that wanted to shoot out of my ears, mouth and nose and show her what a REAL meltdown looked like... so don't even mess with Mommy right now, mkay?

Five times I had to check myself before I wrecked myself.

Because this kid... she's on my last nerve. I mean MY. LAST. MOTHA.EFFIN. NERVE.

It all started because... I dunno, the sky was too blue today. So, Benny had to take The Bird to her room for a quick timeout. Then, after he left for work... and she turned into a puddle of misery because: "My. Dadddddddyyyyyyy!". Oh the pain! The absolute misery of being a little girl who loves her Daddy sooooo much.

But, but, BUT... I was able to distract her with a little Super Why. And let me just say right now: GOD BLESS SUPER WHY. Because that damn cartoon gave me a whopping 3 minutes of non-whining/non-crying... relative peace.

That is until I did the unthinkable and attempted to dress The Bird. OMG... the humanity! That I, the mother... the rational thinking person in this relationship... would think that pants - PANTS! - were appropriate attire when clearly I should have known that she would rather wear saran wrap and set her hair on fire.

Holy geez... that's timeout #2

Timeout #3 occurred a few moments after she said sorry and came out of her room... and continued to fight the idea of clothes.... and then hit me in the face.

So. Not. Down. With. That.

During this timeout, The Bird came out of her room (still crying) and when I asked her if she was ready to be nice and apologize, she said NO WAY! (shocking), and ran back to her room. Where she slammed her pocket sliding door shut... right on her fingers. I won't lie... there was a tiny moment of satisfaction that came because FINALLY! SHE HAS SOMETHING TO REALLY CRY ABOUT... AND I DIDN'T GIVE HER SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT LIKE I THINK TO MYSELF ALL THE TIME... LIKE MY DAD USED TO SAY TO ME! I WIN!!! I AM THE STRONGEST WOMAN ON EARTH!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

So, timeout #3 ended with hugs and kisses... but no apology. Because, hey, I like to play the world-weary, hardened, stone-cold mother on my blog but my baby gets legitimately hurt? I will smother her with kisses to make it better.

So, let's see... we're at three timeouts already. One for the sky being blue. Two for freaking out over clothes. Three for hitting Mommy in the face. What could possibly be next?

Timeout #4... for PUNCHING Mommy in the face when I explained that we would not be having cake for second breakfast. (Cake is only for first breakfast). When she first took a swing at me, I was able to duck and think to myself: "Did what I think just happened, just. happen?"

I quickly determined that I had not imagined it and gave Hazel The Look.

As in THEEEEE Look.

As in... "*$&*#;%@. Mama don't play that. Don't EVEN go there."

And I sternly and calmly said: "No. Hitting. DON'T. GO. THERE."

And guess who went there?

Holy mother of all that is holy. This child is trying my patience like no other. I understand she's going to make mistakes. And I understand that she's trying to learn how to communicate. I also freakin' understand that this kid can talk and use her words but she's just being a little snot. So... OMG... timeout #4 was a BIG ONE. It's been a couple of hours now and I'm still so pissed off at the whole thing, I can barely think.

Timeout #5 came right after she apologized for hitting me and asked for some water. I filled up her sippy and she said: "No wid." Which is toddler for "No lid, please. I'd like to make sure I spill all of this water down my shirt right before we leave for school. Kthanxbai."

"Sorry, honey. We have to have a lid, otherwise you spill it."

"No wid! No wid! NO WID!"

"Your choice. You can have water with a lid, or no water at all."

At that point, I set the sippy on the table and went to the door to grab my coat because, after all, it's been 4 timeouts. It's time to get out of the house. I have to go to work... just so I can think straight.

That's when I heard what sounded suspiciously like a toddler picking up a sippy and then slamming it on the floor... which caused the lid to pop off and water to go everywhere.

Sonofa.... "Okay... you have to help clean up the mess you just made."

Which fell on deaf ears because... SOMEONE WAS IN THE DEPTHS OF DESPAIR BECAUSE OMG... WATER! MY WATER! EVERYWHERE! END OF DAYS. END. OF. DAAAAYYYSSSS.

Which led to timeout #5 because the depths of despair include screaming and more screaming and MOMMY COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Poor Millie... this kid never gets any attention in the morning. Hazel makes sure of that.

We have a problem. A big, big problem.

That problem being a nasty case of the twos.

And a nastier case of Mama's Over It.

So nasty, in fact, that I'm debating picking up The Bird from daycare tonight. Because it's been two straight weeks of hell with her and I just don't want to buckle in for another night of pure hell. Because that's what two straight weeks have conditioned me for. Pure, unadulterated AWFULNESS. I deserve - WE ALL DESERVE - a night of peace. A night of giggles and grins. A night of no timeouts, no meltdowns, no hitting, kicking or screaming.

We have to have nights of joy to gird us up for the nights of misery. My joy tank is almost on empty with The Bird. While my misery tank RUNNETH OVAH.

And if we hit empty on the joy tank without a refill... there's not enough alcohol or Crossfit in the world to make it better.

And that's no way to live.

A Case of the No Ways

2011-12-05T15:16:00.001-08:00

Today was a "No way!" day. As in... every. single. thing. I said to Hazel was met with a hearty "NO WAY!"

Not "No."

Not "No, thank you."

Not even a "Nope."

Just "No. Way!"

To everything.

Hazel, would you like yogurt for breakfast? No way!
Hazel, would you like to cudder? No way!
Do you want to go play with your friends? No way!
Would you like ice cream for dinner? No way!
How about a puppy? Do you want a puppy? No way!
Would you like Mommy to stick this fork directly into her eye and swirl it? *Silence*

It's just out of control... the no way's. And it's killing me. Because I'm pretty sure that the "No" part of "No way" is the default setting for all 2-year-olds. (At least that's what I'm telling myself.)(If you have different information, please keep it to yourself.) But the "Way" part of "No way"... apparently, that's all me.

When she first started saying "No way!" two weeks ago as we were driving to Prescott for Thanksgiving, Benny and I thought it was cute. And we quickly determined that it must be something she'd picked up at day care. Then, as we were looking for a city park to stop at for The Bird and The Bean to stretch their legs, I looked on the Boulder City website which said a particular park was the most popular playground in the city, with a nice view of Lake Mead in the background. It further went on to claim that sometimes, big horned sheep would come down off the mountain and graze on the grass next to the playground. And when I mentioned this little factoid to Benny, we both rolled our eyes and said,

"Yea. Right. There's big horned sheep on the playground. Sure."

And then we pulled up to the playground and I'll be damned if there wasn't 10 of them right there. Grazing. As if they hadn't a care in the world. As if they were unaware that I was about to unbuckle a toddler who was going to RUIN THEIR LUNCH.

"No. Way!", I exclaimed as I looked through the window out to the playground. "No way, no way, no way!!!"

Yep... she definitely must have picked it up at day care... and now I've picked it up. A lot like a common cold.

But if you start to listen to how people talk these days - and with a 2-year-old mimic clutching my leg while screaming "No way!" and "SHUT THA DOH!", I pay close attention to what she's exposed to - a lot of people say "No way." Obviously, no one says it with as much passion and mind-numbing repetition as The Bird, but holy geez!

So, naturally, to defend myself from being not only the one to teach The Bird her first naughty word, but also a phrase that has been permanently tattooed on my cerebrum, I started pointing out to family members whenever they said "No way!" during the Thanksgiving holiday. (Or the Thanksgiving Nowayiday.)

Which means that not only did we have turkey, potatoes and asparagus for Thanksgiving, we also had a little bit of jerkface. That jerkface being the mother who was trying desperately to prove that she's not the (only) one who taught her daughter the most annoying catchphrase on earth.

Also... I Believe In Santa Claus

2011-12-02T14:22:00.001-08:00

I'm not a particularly religious person. But I do have a belief system. It's pretty simple. Pretty straight-forward. Pretty ho-hum. But, it's my belief system and if you don't like it, I've got a Toddler that's crying about her banana breaking in half, so that's really the least of my concerns.

The list below is in no way exhaustive. Trying to capture a belief system takes a little more than the 20 minutes I've allowed myself for "Me Time". But, it's a good start.

*Ahem*

I believe that you should treat others the way you would want to be treated (Golden Rule and all that crap). I believe that video games are inherently evil and while I won't judge you (publicly)(anymore)(after this post) for playing them. (I'm just gonna leave the room... and judge you in private.) I believe that flowers are nature's gift to us and we should always stop to smell them. I believe that little boys AND little girls should play with bugs. I believe that a spider is not a bug and should therefore be killed upon detection. I believe that a bouquet of dandy lions from my little girls are sweeter than any roses I'll ever receive. I believe that chocolate is a major food group. I believe that chocolate tastes better when you have to sneak it by your husband and children. I believe you should never be too far away from lip balm. I believe that there is no need to justify wearing a ponytail. I believe that the price of kids shoes is a total scam. I believe that one should never spend more than 20 minutes getting ready for work. I believe that the best way to read a magazine is back-to-front. I believe that there is WAY too much reality on TV. I believe that people should be out making their own reality. I believe that my girls are gonna play in the mud and with frogs/fish/whathaveyou as much as they play in the kitchen and make cookies. (If not more.) I believe that you don't have to tear others down to feel good about yourself. I believe that my dentist is out to get me. I believe that I'm the strongest woman in the world. (Unless heavy lifting is involved.)(And then it's 50-50.) I believe that dreams can come true. (I've had three of them come true in my life.) I believe that if the easiest way to stop a toddler from losing her shit is to put on a Winnie the Pooh band-aid on an imaginary owie, YOU WASTE NO TIME AND GET THAT EFFER ON THE INVISIBLE SCRATCH. I believe that my kissing an actual owie will automatically make it better... but the band-aid is still necessary. I believe there is no greater sound on the planet than that of a child's laugh. I believe that I probably wouldn't get as many sinus infections if I'd stop picking my nose and gnawing my nails. (Not that I do them concurrently.) I believe that a good cry... the kind where you turn into a blubbering idiot with snot running out of your nose... the kind where you don't want any comfort because then you won't really let it out for fear of scaring whoever is doing the consoling... the kind where you have to do it in a car sitting in a store parking lot at 8 p.m. while you're waiting for a prescription because that's the only you time you're gonna get that day.... those kinds of cries are ESSENTIAL to motherhood. I believe you have to listen to your body and your soul to know what you really need. I believe in moments of reflection. I believe that if women were better to each other, our society would improve drastically. I believe that children have a built-in radar that lets them know the exact moment you've stopped moving... and that's when they'll throw yogurt across the room. I believe in the power of a good massage. (To be followed by a facial and an eyebrow wax.)(Perhaps a pedi.) I believe that if you can't say something nice about someone's feet, you shouldn't say anything at all. I believe that Benny needs to think about that. I believe that one should not be judged by one's religion. One should be judged by one's blog. (And maybe the Golden Rule.) I believe that there is a magic fairy that will do the laundry for me. I believe that Christmas lights are magical. I believe that one day, I will actually be able to follow a recipe and not screw up whatever I'm cooking/baking that day. I believe that Jon Stewart is a genius. I believe that I can't grow roses. (Because my mother couldn't.)(How's that for a self-fulfilling prophecy?) I believe that we should take care of the most vulnerable and weakest among us. I believe Fox News is not news. I believe that life without the internet is totally Third World. I believe that I could run another marathon, but have become too smart for that. I believe that red wine is the nectar of life. I believe that smuggling such nectar in from out-of-state is appropriate. (Not that I have done that.)(Today.) I believe that my kids are gonna love Christmas. I believe that there is nothing my children could do to make me love them less. I believe that crabgrass is demonic. I believe that the Bible is a nice story. (Some parts.) I believe that I don't need a book to tell me how to live. I believe I certainly don't need a church to tell me how to live. I believe that we will eventually have another dog. I believe that dog will be very small. (And possibly mute). I believe in surrounding yourself with good people and distancing yourself from those who are toxic. I believe everyone in your life is there for a reason. I believe that I'm too old to play basketball and that just makes me sad. I believe that there will be snow angels and a snowman in our front yard this year... and for the next 18 or so.

But most of all? I believe that being a Mom is the hardest thing I will ever do. I also believe it is the GREATEST thing I will ever do. I believe that my girls will be well-rounded and will be exposed to the arts, to travel and to sports. I believe they will love to read books that can take them to a million different places without leaving their home. I believe they will love each other. I believe they will fight like cats and dogs. I believe they will be best friends. I believe they will have great senses of humor. I believe they will make mistakes. I believe they will learn from those mistakes. I believe they will leave home before we know it and experience the wonder and beauty that is this world. I believe they will do great things... they will build bridges... they will save lives... they will be leaders... they will change the world. (They've already changed mine.)

I believe that they will be happy. I believe that they will shine that happiness on whomever they meet. I believe that no matter what happens in their lives, they will know that home is always a safe place. I believe that they will never doubt how much we love them... because there's nothing that can stop that love.

Unless they end up on Fox News. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Blogging

2011-11-17T15:16:00.001-08:00

Today, I found a blog that was AMAZING. And it reminded me why I started blogging all those many, many, child-free years ago.

And why I should start blogging that way again.

Of course, I say this now... now, when I'm trying to put off writing a 22-page report. And let's face it, when I get home, cook dinner, play with the kids and then put them to bed, I'm much more likely to watch my DVR'd HIMYM, Daily Show and Criminal Minds than actually sit down and blog about what life is like on a day-to-day basis.

Argh!!! Seriously... I've come to the conclusion that TV is essentially evil. At least for me. Because I do not possess the will-power to turn it off once I turn it on. And I always turn it on once the girls are asleep because OH. MY. GOD... I need to zone out for just a second and regroup.

And then three hours later, I turn the TV off, look at my still messy house, realize that I haven't made lunch or gotten any of my schmidt together for the next day, shrug, take my dose of fukitol and mosey off to bed. Where I will then toss and turn for a few hours because I know that the next morning is going to be a freakin' bloodbath and really... WHY DO I WATCH TV?

Blimey.

Hazel's Two-ish Update

2011-11-06T12:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Hazel,
A couple of weeks ago, you turned 2. Holy crap. I have a two-year-old. How in the WORLD did THAT happen? How is it possible that 2 years ago, you came into this world. And blew it up? In a good way, of course. Even if at the time, we didn't quite realize it. Couldn't quite comprehend that this screaming bundle of arms, legs and LUNGS was going to turn into the fun, loving little girl who... yes, would continue to keep us on our toes. AT ALL TIMES.

You'll have to forgive this late blog. There's just something about writing your 2-year post that has got me a little... frazzled. Maybe a little down. Because time has just gone by soooo fast that there are days that I can't quite comprehend that I'm the mother of a toddler. That two years have gone by so quickly. That I am in charge of turning you into a productive member of society. And how in the world did anyone think that I should ever be in charge of something as significant as THAT?

Last month, you had an absolute blast. We had some cousin's visit from Phoenix and you absolutely adored them. The week they were in town was a week of firsts for you. Namely, the first time you fell down the stairs... and the first time you rode your train down the stairs. Two separate incidents, by the way. And then... when we did the unthinkable and took the stairs... away... well, that didn't go well. Especially since you've figured out how to unlatch the gate at the top of the stairs. So... even though we promised ourselves we wouldn't do it... Daddy and I have fallen back on parenting through FEAR... at least when it comes to the stairs.

Having cousins visit also meant a huge first for you... you got to stay up WAAAAYYY past your bedtime. My rule was that you could stay up and play... as long as you didn't throw a fit because you were tired. And I'll be damned... but it worked. You were super happy the whole time. Even when it was a 9 p.m. bedtime!!! You just love being around other kids. And that visit got me so pumped up for our trip to San Diego next year. You and the cousins are going to be running around everywhere!

You love being a big sister. Even though you still have a few moments of sibling rivalry... and out-and-out jealousy. You sure love to snuggle with your sissy. And when you get up in the morning, the first thing you want to do is see Millie. Or, Minny, in your world. You loves you some Minny. You love to kiss her. You love to hug her. You love to feed her. You just LOVE her. (Except for the times when you DON'T love her. Which, thankfully, are few and far between.)

When you turned 2, you moved up to the 2-3 year old class. Big news around here. Because I was able to finally get you out of the basement at daycare. See... I don't tell a lot of people this (so I should just blog it, right?) but I have a... thing... with basements. Your Daddy doesn't understand why I don't like to be downstairs in our basement. I just like to be upstairs where there is natural light. And when you were downstairs at daycare... while it was a wonderful environment with a wonderful teacher... you were still in a basement. Blah. My girl needs some LIGHT! So, we moved you upstairs.

It was really past time for you to move up, baby girl. For a couple months prior to turning 2, you had been struggling during nap time at school. We didn't know what was up with that. The teachers were at their wits end. They had tried EVERYTHING, but still couldn't get you to sleep for more than 45 minutes. Meanwhile, on the weekends, you were regularly sleeping 2-3 hours. We finally decided that you must be bored. You were one of the oldest in the classroom. And apparently, you had been totally bogarting the flashcard time and none of the other kids got to say anything. Not with you yelling out: "DUCK! CARROT! CAR! GREEN! FLUVIAL GEOMORPHOLOGY!" (someone's been listening to Daddy too much!)

Anyhoo... the first day of your new class, I was a little nervous. You're getting to that age where instead of being open and happy meeting new people, you can be a little more reserved. But... well, what the hell do I know? Cuz you walked into that room like you owned it. And the rest is history. You're now sleeping 2 hours per day and your teacher constantly gushes to me (btw... I really like your teacher) about how awesome it is having you in class, and how smart you are. WORDS MOMMY LIKES TO HEAR. The polar opposite of what I heard today. (PS... you and I are going to have a talk about playing King of the Mountain and KICKING our friends. Yep.)

The word "time out" has become familiar to you in the last month or so. We have to take a lot of time outs with you when you get worked up over something. It's nothing too bad... we just take you to your room or out of the situation you're in and we have a little discussion about what is appropriate. We have to finish by giving Mommy a kiss and a hug... and then usually an apology to either Mommy, Millie, Daddy or a friend that came to visit. Or... you know, the car seat that you decided was evil. But, it's working. For how long, we don't know. You're very... 2ish right now, let's just leave it at that.

We have started to push the idea of going potty in the toilet with you. We're not quite sure what we're doing here... I gotta be honest. And if we would just buck up and read a book on it, we'd be set. We've tried bribery... (lots of Halloween candy still waiting to be eaten), and we've tried exaggerating our excitement when you do tinkle in the toilet. But, overall... you're not too interested. And kid... I can't wait for you to be interested. Because you're getting to be old enough and big enough that... WOW. You really gotta start going potty in the toilet. My gag reflexes are not super sensitive... but you're able to bring me to the brink. And we'll leave it at that.

You're talking a lot right now. A. Lot. And in the last week, you're vocabulary has EXPLODED. You're able to follow directions. And you're able (for the most part) to say what you want or what you need. We have to watch what we say right now... because you repeat EVERYTHING. And yes... it's possible that you learned your first four-letter word from Mommy the other day. I'm THAT mom. Awesome.

You love to color. Well... scratch that. You love to watch Mommy color next to you. And if Mommy stops coloring or isn't interested in coloring, you hand me a crayon/marker/chalk and say: "Cudder? Cudder?" And while coloring isn't exactly my idea of fun these days and I would much rather you color on your own so I can clean the house or shave my legs, I keep remembering that these moments are fleeting. And not too long from now, you won't want me to cudder with you.

And, so... I cudder. I also make sand art and bake cookies with you. Whenever you get to "help" me do anything, you're down. And I will remind you of this when you turn 15. YES. I. WILL.

You are such a sweetheart, Hazel. You're hard... trust me, I earn Mommyhood every. single. day. But you're totally worth it. You are a little girl that knows what she wants. You're a little girl who knows EVERYTHING already. You love deeply. And you disagree passionately.

That last one... well, it's gonna serve you well. It's always served Mommy well.

Then again, Mommy's only ever been wrong about one thing. And that's when she stupidly pointed to a crocodile in a book and said: "Crocodile". Too which you pointed out that it actually was a frog.

No... crocodile.

NO. FROG.

No... that's a crocodile.

NO! FROG! FROG! FROG!

I stand corrected.

Love,
Mama

Mixing It Up With The Bean - 8 Month Update

2011-10-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie Bean,
It's been another banner month for you. One that included a little pnemonia and a lot of army-man crawling. As well as blowing Mommy's mind when you stood up next to the chair. How is it that you're only 8 months old? You act like you're almost 1 year!!

Yep. You came down with pneumonia at the beginning of the month. Right about the time your sissy came down with the croup. So life was super fun around our house for a few days. The worst part about it? The antibiotics made you hyper. As in... crawling the walls at 11 p.m., hyper. As in lifting sisters toy train above your head, hyper. As in... Mommy and Daddy need you to go back to sleep and OMG, 8 MORE DAYS OF THIS??? Yea. So... Augmentin is so not your boyfriend right now.

You started babbling a lot more this month. And you are still absolutely enamored with your older sister. You don't want to play with baby toys. You want to play with big girl toys... like the play utensils that you will stick in your eye as soon as Mommy turns her back. Basically, you want to be wherever your sissy is. And you follow her with your eyes the way a tiny slobbery hawk tracks a big, loud field mouse.

You've become just a little bit more of a snuggler this months, Millie. In the morning when you wake up, either I or your Daddy get to pick you up out of the crib and snuggle with you in the living room for a few minutes before you determine that enough is enough and we'd better feed you RIGHT. NOW. You've taken to solids pretty well. I thought you were going to be a picky eater, but once you got used to the consistency of the food, you were all over it. And it... was all over you.

On a related note, you've had serious issues with constipation this month. So much so that we're giving you an ounce or so of prune juice in your formula twice a day. Because, holy cow, baby girl! Hell hath no fury like that of a constipated baby. We were giving you about 4 oz at a time just to get things moving... and oh. my.... did things start moving. Started moving right up your back to your neck. So... now we're only on the 1 oz twice a day. Sorry, baby girl. Even though we had practice before you came to live with us, we're still, by all accounts, COMPLETE. ROOKIES.

You've hit a new cycle of sleep in the last month. For some reason, you're not sleeping well at day care. AT ALL. As in... sometimes when I pick you up from day care, you've only slept 20-45 minutes. Total. ALL. DAY. LONG. So by the time we get you home, we're in a race to get you fed and in bed. And that often happens before 6 p.m. And then you sleep until 7 or 7:30 am. Mommy threw a big parade the first night you did that. There's still confetti on the ceiling.

On the weekends, you sleep really well during your naps. You're still taking two which can last anywhere from 1 to 3 hours. And sometimes... when the stars align... you and your sissy take your naps together. Which means that Mommy and Daddy get a chance to breathe. We would be smart to actually breathe during these moments, but there's always something we need to do. The unwritten rule of parenthood... THERE ARE NO BREAKS.

You have become so social. And you want to be in on all of the action. You do not like it if Hazel and I leave you in the living room playing while I get ready for the day during the week. Oh. No. That just doesn't fly. And you immediately start army-manning it down the hallway to see where we are... hollering the whole way. You're working on the actual crawl, but always default to army-man because that can get you there a lot faster and you're all about speed these days. You're also big into standing these last couple of weeks. You like to crawl over to the chair and then freak Mommy out when she looks over and you've pulled yourself up and are looking mighty proud of yourself. And it's great because the last time you surprised Mommy was when she looked over and you were chewing on a wet diaper that she had left on the floor. You keep me on my toes, baby girl. And you're not even walking yet!!!

There are also times that you simply want to be held. It's usually at the end of the day when you're tired or worn out, and even if I'm sitting behind you and set you down on the floor, you immediately turn to me and climb up. Oh yes... you're a big fan of climbing on Mommy these days. Between you and Hazel, it's amazing I'm able to do a single thing in the morning because sometimes I think the two of you consider me your Everest... and you're both trying to plant a flag on my forehead to note that YOU WERE HERE FIRST.

Daddy and I were talking about this the other day. Whenever I walk in the room, your face just brightens up. You absolutely know who Mommy is and... yea, you're a bit of a Mama's Girl. Which is so completely awesome because, well... NOW I HAVE ONE. Hazel's always kind of been a Daddy's girl. Even when she was just little, she seemed to prefer sleeping on Daddy or playing with Daddy. But you... you're a big Mama fan. Which does my heart good.

But, if you're gonna be a Mama's Girl, you're gonna have to be representing Mama a little better. Meaning... no more scaredy cat, mkay? That's right... while you loving being in the mix and seeing new things... you still haven't gotten the courage that came so easily with Hazel. You're not afraid of people... which is good. But, well... the other day at a football game, your Grandma and I were waiting to ride the elevator to the 4th floor. And we were commenting on what a happy baby you were.
And then we got in the elevator.... where you proceeded to lose your EVER. LOVING. MIND. You were NOT okay with the elevator. And this made the 4-story ride the longest ride in the history of elevator rides. Once we stepped out, you were immediately fine. The elevator is so not your boyfriend right now.

Later, at the game... you were NOT down with Hazel's balloon. Freaked. You. Out. As did the sound of the crowd cheering. Football games are so not your boyfriend right now.

But for the most part, with the occasional scaredy-cat moments, you are super happy. You love sissy, Daddy and your grandparents. You don't get to see much of Aunt KC or our other friends because... well, you're in bed by 6! In fact, you don't get bathed as much as you should because... YOU'RE IN BED BY 6!! It's a feat of logistics to get you home from school and fed before it's bedtime. And we know better than to push bedtime back. Heads. Will. Roll.

Last weekend, we took you and Hazel to the Nature Center for a Halloween celebration. Your costume for Halloween is so cute... it's a cupcake. Which fits you perfectly because right now, you're kinda shaped like one. But we weren't sure if it would fit in the car seat, so instead, your Daddy insisted that you wear the ASU Sparky outfit that Granny and Pops had given you when they were visiting. It made sense for the car seat, and it made sense because it would be much warmer than the cupcake outfit (so Daddy claimed). So, I tried to overlook the fact that my baby girl kinda looked like a baby boy. So, I made Daddy throw on a pink hat so we could reclaim your gender. Let me be clear, I don't need to dress you in pink every day. And I certainly don't care if you play with bugs (not spiders)(see previous letter to your sister) and trucks/tractors. I don't care if you play in the mud and the dirt. I don't care if you prefer frogs over princesses, or vice versa. But... BUT, I think it's okay for me to put a little feminine touch on you from time-to-time. So I don't have to keep correcting people when they say: "Oh... he's so cute." It's not me that is assigning gender traits. IT'S SOCIETY.

But, I digress. What didn't make sense was a part of the costume that both Mommy and Daddy overlooked prior to putting it on you. And then at that point, there was nothing we could do.

But, as with most things with you, it bothered Mommy more than it bothered you. You? You were just excited to be out and about. And bonus, the excitement of being out and about kept you up past your bedtime and you weren't even phased!! You LOVED it.

The next day, we went to a pumpkin farm to pick out pumpkins for Halloween. When we got there, you promptly pooped your pants. Luckily, Mommy had a sense that was going to happen and brought a clean onesie for you. And since it was like 70 degrees in the middle of October, you didn't seem to mind going without pants.

You are such a sweetheart, Millie. And we are so happy and blessed to have you in our family. I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. For now, we know that it involves a cupcake costume. But, eventually? Well, you may just decide to climb Everest.

Just because you want to get in the mix.

Love,
Mama

Almost 2. How Did That Happen?

2011-09-28T14:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Hazel,
This weekend, you turned 23 months old. And celebrated the huge accomplishment by coming down with croup. That was fun. Almost as fun as molars.

I felt so bad for you, baby girl. Just listening to you struggling to breathe was awful. But a couple of shots of steroids later and you returned to a somewhat happy Bird. You still spiked a temp every now and then... and let's be honest here, kicked Mommy and Daddy's butts in the process... but overall, you were still our sweet little girl that just wanted to be happy and were willing to fight for it.

The last couple of months have been amazing for you. You've had your fair share of teething pains and you're also starting to skip naps or severely limiting your nap to just 1 hour. Gone are the beautiful days of 3 hour naps, I'm afraid. I miss those days already. Because with taking just the 1 hour nap? Someone throws A LOT more tantrums, these days.

You've also started to play more independently, which is so much fun to watch. You especially love playing in your playhouse in the backyard. I've got to get you some more props because I think you're losing the novelty of bringing me the fake corn or bread when I ask for it. And, Grandma and Grandpa have some explaining to do because after they babysat you and your sissy for a weekend while Daddy and I had some much needed adult time, I came home to discover that when you played in the house and handed me a cup, instead of saying "wa-wa", you were instead saying "pop". I guess we can be grateful that you're not saying Dr. Pepper. Yet.

Speaking of your playhouse, I've had your Daddy spray it repeatedly for spiders. Because - and you'll soon learn this - Mommy will put up with a lot of things. You can hand Mommy a booger and she'll thank you for it, before wiping it on the grass. You can hand Mommy dog poop and she'll thank you for it and then remind you that rocks are not soft. You can hand her "poot" (poop) from when you stick your hands down your diaper, and she'll hold the vomit in and wash your hands before reminding you that "poot" stays in the diaper. But what you should never - MUST NEVER - do, is hand Mommy a spider. While calling it a bug.
Listen, sweetie... there are bugs... and there are SPIDERS. And spiders? Not. Bugs. An aphid? Yes... an aphid is a bug. And Mommy doesn't mind you playing with an aphid... or a roly-poly bug or a dragonfly or a grasshopper. Those are cool things and Mommy's totally down with watching you interact with your world and nature. But spiders? SPIDERS ARE NOT NATURE. Spiders are evil. Spiders can kill people, sweetie. Aphids? No. Aphids don't kill people. Grasshoppers? Grasshoppers kill crops... but that's okay because we live in Utah and the grasshoppers know that if they get out of hand the seagulls will be all: "Oh, no, you diin't!" So the grasshoppers keep a low profile around here. (Non-Utahn's will never understand the genius that is those last two sentences. But you'll get it. Eventually) Dragonfly's? Dragonfly's don't kill people. They eat mosquito's. And they make Mommy happy cuz they're purty. Spiders? Even on the off chance that the spider you're handing me doesn't kill people, he has a distant cousin in Australia, Iraq or next door (lookin' at you black widow and brown recluse) that can. And will. And even if he doesn't kill, he can maim (lookin' at you hobo spider). Therefore, the only responsible thing to do when you see a spider is to hyperventilate and scream until your Daddy comes running with a shoe. Have I clarified this enough for you? Bugs, good. Spiders... can go straight to hell. That's where they came from. Send them home, sweetie. Do NOT hand one to me in a teacup. Ever. Again.

Ahem.

You are talking so much these days. And you pick up on EVERYTHING. And I do mean, EVERYTHING. In fact, Mommy currently "owns" a lot of words that we don't exactly want you repeating in public. That's okay, though... cuz Daddy owns a few things of his own... like how you shove Costco samples into your mouth whole, rather than taking bites. Yep. Daddy owns THAT one. You can also, apparently, spell. Because you used to jump up immediately and head for the door when a walk was suggested. So we started spelling walk. It took about two days before you picked up on that and as soon as we spelled W-A-L-K, you'd run to the door, and yell: WALK!!!

You also like to play on your computer. And pull it out whenever Mommy or Daddy are on our computer. There's just something about OMG BUTTONS!!! that you can't get enough of. And heaven help us if you see Mommy put something in her pocket and you go to do the same and discover - horror of horrors - that you don't have a pocket in those pants. THE HUMANITY! THE ABSOLUTE INDIGNITY OF NOT HAVING POCKETS WHEN YOU NEED A FREAKIN' POCKET!

And while you're getting really good at verbalizing what you want, you still confound us with some of your words that we simply cannot figure out. But when we do figure out what you mean, we feel like we've just passed some sort of Toddler Test. For instance, you have been saying EC, a lot. And it started shortly after Aunt KC babysat you and we just assumed that that was how you said Aunt KC.

Nope.

EC apparently stands for two things:

1) Under the Sea... as in The Little Mermaid song... as in watching the video of Under the Sea on the computer. Over and over and over and over and over....

2) TV. And now we know how Aunt KC keeps you entertained in our absence. You say EC all the time. And unfortunately, when either Mommy or Daddy is single-parenting it, we've had to sit you in your chair, and turn on the EC to Little Einsteins or Sesame Street so that we can feed Millie and put her to bed. So... we're reinforcing the EC. And it sucks. But sometimes... well, sometimes that EC has saved our lives. Seriously... I'm not sure what people did before EC. I'm not sure how they kept their toddler out of the nursery, or kept them from setting the house on fire... but the EC has magical properties in that it can keep a toddler in a trance so that you can feed the baby and get dinner ready without having to navigate around Curious Hazel.

Ah, Curious Hazel. Curious Hazel loves to help. Curious Hazel loves to throw away her diaper or her sissy's diaper. And Curious Hazel likes to put stuff in the sink. Things that may or may not belong in the sink. Mommy has recently lost a wine glass to a bottle that you threw in the sink when I wasn't looking. The good news is... there are more glasses where that one came from. And you were just trying to help. I cannot and will not ever get mad at that. And I will remember this when you're a teenager and I can't get you to pick up a thing.

I've had to keep an eye on you lately because you think that you can pick up your sissy and I've had to jump up quickly and remind you that sissy need to stay on the ground. You like to say "sissy" a lot. And you have started saying Millie... but it comes out Miwwee. And it's so stinkin' cute that I've started saying Miwwee.

You've started to 'negotiate' bedtime. Which I'm not a fan of. We have decided that when it's time to wind down for the night, you get to pick one book for Daddy to read to you, and one book for Mommy to read to you. And that's it. Then we brush our teeth, give you a kiss and put you to bed. We've had a few maintenance sessions of letting you cry for a bit... but this is non-negotiable, as far as I'm concerned. 7:30 is the latest you'll go to bed (barring a late night with friends occasionally) until you're much, much older. Say, 21?

Speaking of books... my goodness, do you like to read!! And not only that, but you are really understanding what's going on in the pictures. And that, to me, is amazing. The other night, we were reading Dr. Seuss' Foot Book. And when we got to the part of "Well feet, Sick feet", you looked at the little character in the book, saw that his feet were "sick" and bandaged up, got a perplexed look on your face and said: "Ohhh." and leaned in to give the feet a kiss to make it better. We read that book 15 times that night and every single time we came to the sick feet, you became very concerned. As if you could feel the pain of the sick feet. I've started showing you pictures of happy babies and crying babies... and you get very concerned when you see the picture of the crying baby and always give it a kiss.

It's so stinkin' adorable I want to cry.

Currently you love having your hair done. In a ponytail on top, pwease. Which is good because you're hair is OUT of control and Mommy doesn't really know what to do with it other than to put it in a ponytail on top of your head, and smile politely when people giggle and say: "Awwww... she's so cute! Did she do her hair by herself?" Look... I happen to think you look great as Pebbles Flintstone. In fact... that's given me a great idea for Halloween.

You definitely know what you want and you're pumped that you can now verbalize it and Mommy jumps whenever you say: Nana, wa-wa, melk, walk, park, pocket, rocks, acorn, tots, bib or piwwow. In fact, I do believe that you wait until I get comfortable or am doing something else to ask me for something. Even if you don't really want or need it. You just like having the power to get me to do something. The good news is that with this power comes great responsibility. And since I know you now understand what I'm saying, there's a little more logic in my parenting. Rather than just taking something from your hand because I know that negotiation is futile, I can reason with you (somewhat) and often get you to relinquish your grip on the rock or the dolly that's not yours. When you hit... and yes, you hit... Mommy or Daddy can talk to you about why we don't hit. And it usually ends with you saying sorry (sowwy) and giving us a hug and a kiss.

That part of parenting rocks.

Love,
Mama

7 Months??

2011-09-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Milliseconds,
Can you tell that Mommy and Daddy discovered auto correct on their new phones this weekend? And Millie quickly became Millieseconds... and we were to busy trying to figure out how the actual phone worked to bother with fixing the auto correct.

Today, you turned 7 months old. Amazing. You have had QUITE the month. First off, you finally got some teeth!!! Two of them popped through on September 1st. Just in time for Labor Day. And just in time for Mommy and Daddy to take a trip to Chicago and leave you and your sis in the care of Aunt KC and Grandma and Grandpa. Also, at about the same time as those teeth popping through, you went on a MASSIVE growth spurt. The kind where you stopped sleeping 14 hours a night and woke up to feed in the middle of the night and then again at 6 a.m. This, of course, is after I had assured Aunt KC that you were a piece of cake and wouldn't give her any trouble. But you were all: "Cake? Where's the cake? I heard there was cake!"

So, that was fun for about two weeks before you went back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness. I think that you knew we were at the end of our rope... and has possibly heard Daddy and I arguing about the need for you to "cry it out". I have been a staunch opponent of the "cry it out" with you. Why? Because you NEVER cry. You NEVER ask for ANYTHING. So, when you do cry, something is wrong. You're not just crying to mess with us... like your sis ~~does~~ ~~did~~ does. Anyway, the night we were going to let you cry it out, well... you just magically slept through the night. Daddy and I woke up at 6 a.m. (because at this point, we had been trained) and looked at each other in confusion. "Did you feed her during the night? NO??? IS SHE STILL ALIVE? Or has she starved to death in her sleep???"

The next night, I had a date with my friend and left you and Hazel in Daddy's capable hands. And apparently, things ~~went right to hell~~ were rough for a bit around (what we lovingly refer to as the Witching half-Hour) 6-6:30. Hazel was screaming for food and you were starving because you had last eaten at 5 and you expect to be fed right before bed and... IT'S TIME TO EAT AND WHEN IT'S TIME TO EAT, THERE BETTER BE SOME FOOD IN MY ~~GENERAL VICINITY~~ MOUTH RIGHT. NOW.

So, Daddy put you in bed and ran to fix your bottle... all the while both you and your sis were screaming your heads off. And then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You passed out after less than a minute of crying. Further bolstering Daddy's claim that Mommy is too much of a softy with you.

Which means that YOU helped prove Daddy right. You have a lot of explaining to do. Once you can talk.

In other groundbreaking developments, guess who is finally sitting up on her own?? It's been tough with you, Millie. You always seemed to list to the left. And then after your listing... you just fell headfirst. And then proceeded to wiggle around and army-man it (head down, mind you) to the other side of the room. But on September 10, I put you down really quickly so that I could run to the back of the house and put my face on... and when I came back out 10 minutes or so later, you were still sitting up in the same spot. Looking very pleased with yourself.

And just like that, we are one step closer to being totally screwed. Because I really feel like you're going to be legitimately crawling in the next month or so. And after that? Well, you're already a big, BIG fan of standing up. I don't believe you'll be contained much longer.

And you cannot WAIT for that day. Because, let me tell you... you are so ready to get in on the action. You watch your older sister so closely and so intently that I just know that eventually, the morning routines are going to include the two of you ganging up on me and running wild.

You are still the happiest baby in school. Even when you're a little sick. I'll come to pick you up after work and I'll hear one or two babies losing their minds and I'm always a little worried that it's you. Because no mom wants to think about her baby being upset or unhappy at day care. But whenever I walk in, you're just laying there, playing with your toes or gnawing on a toy, just enjoying the world. And lately when I walk in, you look at me and you smile so big that I'm actually afraid your face is going to break.

Lately, you've become a bit of a snuggler and want to be sitting on my lap or just be held all the time. In fact, when I put you down and sit behind you, you immediately turn and crawl on to me. It's amazing to me because you've never really cared to be held at all. You've also become a big fan of my hair to help anchor you to place. And hey, if that hair is also available for you to drool on, who are you to complain.

You are not a really big fan of loud things (except your sister) or dogs. Especially dogs. Aunt KC brought Gus over once and you almost started hyperventilating. (I really need to get that on film... if only I wouldn't feel like a bad mother for doing it on purpose to you.) It's so strange to me because your older sister immediately loved noisy things and dogs and kittys. But you... you're not having it. Dogs and kittys may as well be aliens sent to suck out your brains. And loud noises. Where do I begin? We have a little toy with a monkey on top of it that makes noise when it rolls and your sister loves to pick it up and slam it on the ground (you know, to break in the new flooring) and to you this is the equivalent of an actual monkey... in a cat suit... riding a dog... and stealing your binkie.

You started eating solids a couple of weeks ago. It took a while for you to come around to the cereal, but when you finally got used to it, you murdered it every time we fed you. We have recently introduced other "solids" like pureed peaches and sweet potatoes. Each of which result in full-body shivers and a stubborn refusal to eat another bite. Of anything. Look at you... 6 months old and you've already been labeled as our "picky eater". Who knew that Chilly Millie would have such high standards for food?

You've also slowed down your eating since your growth spurt. And some days, it's hard for me to get you to eat more than a tablespoon of cereal and 4 oz of milk at a sitting. Which, is probably normal for most babies. Who aren't giants. But for 7-month-olds who are already easily fitting into 12-18 month old clothes? THEY EAT.

I can't wait to see what this next month brings you. I already suspect that the next few weeks will see you no longer in the infant carrier... you're getting REALLY heavy to carry in that thing and I've started to just take you out of it and carry you in to day care. It's sad to me because... well, it just means that pretty soon, I'm not going to have a baby anymore. And you'll want to walk into school like your sister. And then... well then what am I good for? Besides wiping your butt?

Love,
Mama

Home Opener

2011-09-17T19:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Hazel,
Tonight, you went to your first football game of the year. And, oh boy... were you in heaven! Since it was Game Day, Daddy dressed you in your Wildcat Girl shirt when you woke up this morning. By noon, it was de-waitforit-stroyed. And, Mommy decided that you certainly couldn't go to the tailgate looking like you were the loser in a food fight with the Hamburgler. So, we got you dressed in your second outfit of the day and headed out.

Big mistake for Mommy to go with the white shirt. With all of that food, it didn't take long for you to leave your mark... all over the front of your shirt. Strawberries? Applesauce? BBQ sauce? Brownies? Check, check, check and check. Using the carrots as a transportation device to eat Ranch? Check. Double-dipping? Check. Touching all of the watermelon before finally choosing a piece? Check. Grabbing multiple brownies and then crying when Mommy told you you could only have one? Check and check. Taking a bribe in the form of a cookie? Check. Chewing the chicken and then spitting it out in Mommy's hand because you had sucked all the bbq sauce off of it? Check.

In the good news department, none of my colleagues appeared to judge me for allowing you to eat a chip off of the asphalt. In fact, there was applause all around when you managed to pick up said chip underneath the table and not to hit your head when you stood back up. That's my girl... spatially aware.

I had to take your sissy home before the game started, so you and Daddy had a date to the game. Apparently, you're a big football fan. Whenever the crowd started to cheer, you'd start to clap and yell: "Running! Running! Running!". You also scored yourself a big foam paw. Which you looked at in wonder while saying: "Rawr! Rawr! Rawr!"

When you got home tonight, you were eager to show me the paw. And you were an absolute angel. You let me change your diaper and put you to bed without so much as a wimper.

So... I guess the secret for your bedtime routines is junk food and football games? Sure. That'll be easy to replicate every night.

Love,
Mama

On Why I Would Suck As A Stay-At-Home Mom

2011-09-17T19:34:00.000-07:00

Today, Benny tried to distract Hazel from a meltdown (Millie was eating her favorite book... again) by asking her to count the "owies" on his hands. Owies, of course, being blisters from pullups at Crossfit. Seriously... Benny has princess hands that tear like a fine muslin fabric. He can just walk by the pullup bar and get a blister on his hand. It's totally sexy.

So, while I was changing Millie, Hazel started counting the owies. "Two, tree, foe, figh, sis, seben, eight..."

Here's the thing. We knew that she could count to three... albeit, skipping "one". But she's got the two and three down. What neither of us realized is that our little 22-month-old could count to eight (still skipping the one, but yea... you get the point).

Benny and I looked at each other and simultaneously said: DID YOU TEACH HER THAT?

No. That would be the teachers at school. Sadly, I'm the mom who doesn't think that her kid is ever old enough to learn anything. So, whenever Hazel throws out a new word, I'm blown away. Especially when it's a word that we haven't been practicing. The other day, she looked at a picture of a hen and said "chikin". This was right before she showed me an aphid on her arm while saying "bug". Which was seconds before she handed me a toy tea cup, staring at it intently and saying "bug"... which turned out to be a freakin' SPIDER.

In a related note, I have managed to teach Hazel to scream like a little girl.

So, I've got that going for me.

Chicago

2011-08-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

Benny and I are headed to Chicago for Labor Day weekend.

Sans The Bird and The Bean.

Just the two of us. Well, four if you count the total group going. But what's important is it is ADULTS ONLY. No babes allowed.

And the question was asked of me today: "What in the world are you going to do in Chicago?" I've only been there once for work (in January... so, yea....), so I'm not really sure what there is to do in Chicago, but I'm taking a wild guess that there are plenty of things to do. And another wild guess that the city doesn't shut down on Sundays. Which will be completely new territory for us.

But, I really think that the question isn't what are we going to do. The question is, what AREN'T we going to do. (All hail to Ferris Bueller... I, too, need a day off.)

So, here it goes.

THINGS WE AREN'T. GONNA. DO. WHILST IN CHICAGO:
-Change a dirty diaper.
-Look down the back of anyone's shorts to see if they have, indeed, poopied.
-Say the word poopy.
-Ask anyone if they just went potty.
-Say the word potty.
-Order off off the kids menu.
-Order water.
-Wake up early.
-Wake up, period.
-Pick up after somebody.
-Pick up after ourselves. THAT'S WHAT HOUSEKEEPING IS FOR.
-Read a book cover-to-cover 15 times in one night.
-Cook.
-Repeatedly practice the word "fox" with someone so that it doesn't come out sounding like another F word.
-Utter the phrase: "Can you say...?"
-Negotiate. THERE WILL BE NO NEGOTIATIONS THIS WEEKEND. IT'S MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY.
-Worry about possible choking hazards or anything that's breakable in any given environment.
-Wipe anyone's nose.
-Allow someone to hand me a booger... and then thank them for it.

But, I guess to be fair and give you an accurate view of our plans this weekend, I should include the...

THINGS WE ARE GONNA DO WHILST IN CHICAGO:
-Sleep
-Actually finish a cup of coffee in the morning.
-Use the bathroom without someone pounding on the other side of the door.
-Sleep on the flight out.
-Arrive at our destination without the look of shell-shocked parents after a flight.
-Talk with Benny about things other than poop, pee, vomit, sleeping habits and tantrums.
-Read a book without interruption.
-Did I mention sleep?
-Enjoy a meal in a restaurant without having to wipe someones face or hands, or somehow keep them contained in their high chair without causing a scene.
-Sleep
-Drink whatever and however much we want without fear of an early-morning wakeup.
-Enjoy a hangover like we did pre-kids.
-Eat a hot dog without having to cut anyone's hot dog up for them first.
-Go to a baseball game and actually watch it, vs just being there for a change of scenery and wondering at the end of the night... Wait. There was a game? Who played?
-Live recklessly and put a fork or a knife near the edge of the table.

And lastly:
-Worry about how my kiddos are doing every second I'm gone and call them 15 times a day.

Holy Six-Month-Old, Batman!

2011-08-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
Today, you turned 6 months old! Holy cow! You're halfway to your first birthday! Mommy blinked and you grew up. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?

I truly can't believe that 6 months ago, you came into our lives. I've said it before, but it bears repeating... I never realized just how incomplete our family and our lives were until you came to us. It's amazing the energy you have already brought into this world... and you're still immobile (for the most part!)

Six months ago today, you were just this little thing struggling to breathe and looking up at me with those big eyes. I remember singing to you and encouraging you to breathe. I remember sleeping with you in my arms in the hospital room... a big no-no that the nurses were ALL over. But what do they know? You slept better in my arms. I remember our friends and family coming to visit us in the hospital. I remember how you didn't seem to cry very much. I remember trying to get you to nurse and how hard it was for you and for me. I remember how whenever you looked at me, you looked right into my eyes with so much trust and innocence and how I thought that there was nothing in this world that can ever compare to that moment of bonding between a mother and her newborn.

All of that seems like it just happened yesterday. THAT WAS THE FASTEST 6 MONTHS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, MILLIE.

In the last 6 months, that little tiny infant who looked at me with those big eyes and tiny arms and legs has grown into a full blown baby!! Those hands and feet that were so long and narrow... well, you have plumped up quite well. And you've got incredible power in those hands... you're able to bring me to my knees when you grab my hair and pull. Today you managed to grab my necklace (on the first try) and pull me from a kneeling position right to your level on the floor.

And in the last month? You've turned into this little personality. A little VERBAL personality. My goodness do you like to jabber. A lot. You appear to be taking after your sister.

And possibly your mother.

It all started last weekend when I took you on your first flight to go to a friend's wedding in Seattle. Let's just say, you didn't handle the pressurizing of the cabin very well. I felt so bad for you. You cried soooo much and refused to nurse, even though that would help with the ear pressure. You finally fell asleep after I forced you to nurse and stayed that way until we had leveled out in the air. That's when you woke up and started grabbing at everything around you. Including the nice man who was sitting next to us... who didn't even flinch when you grabbed his arm hair and attempted to ingest it.

It was like your crying spurt triggered something in you because OMG... you have not stopped jabbering since. You've got a lot of "da-da-da-da" going on. And a lot of happy shrieks. (Except when they're not happy shrieks and are just shrieks...aka - the return flight home).

You've also become even more mobile in the last month. I can leave you on one side of the room while I run to the kitchen to make sure your sister doesn't pull the cabinet door off the hinges when she is attempting to throw away your diaper (she's a huge help that way), and when I get back, you are on the other side of the room... usually stuck mid-roll against something.

You love story time with your sister and we are so happy that both of our girls are "readers". I look forward to reading more with you when you get older. You still love your jump-a-roo and especially love it when your big sister comes over to give you a kiss... or to laugh/scream in your face. It makes you feel like you're part of the action. Oh, you cannot wait to be a part of the action. You already never stop moving. EVER. If it's not your arms, it's your legs. If it's not your legs, it's your head. If it's not your head, it's your hands.

Changing your diaper is so different than changing your sisters diaper was when she was your age. You are constantly rolling and the only way I can get you to sit still for the 15 seconds it takes to change you is to have Hazel come over and stand above you so you get to look straight up at her and laugh. But the second she leaves, you're rolling over so that you can see where she went. It's a lot like attempting to change a live rolling pin.

You are soooo close to crawling now. You're not quite on your knees yet, so the "crawling" that we see now is mostly you pushing off with your feet and scooting your head across the floor. But trying to rock you down at night requires about 6 arms because you are so much more interested in climbing over Mommy's shoulder instead of nestling in close.

Speaking of going to bed... you are hilarious when it comes to your bedtime routine. Usually about 6 p.m., you start to get a little fussy and we know we have a short amount of time before you're going to get really upset. Usually by 6:30, we have your bottle ready and Daddy takes you into your room. When the lights go out and the sound machine goes on, you know it's dinner time and OMG... the 10 seconds it takes to walk over to the chair and get you situated to feed is 15 seconds too long and YOU MUST EAT NOW. Dinner time in your room is the fussiest you ever get. And it lasts all of 5 seconds before we plug you in.

You're still sleeping through the night and absolutely love waking up in the mornings. Your internal alarm goes off at 6:39 a.m., though... Mommy would prefer it go off at 7:01 a.m. See if you can work on that for me, mkay? When we put you to bed every night at 6:30ish, you immediately roll to your left and put your feet up on the bars of the crib. That's how we know you're down for the count... the roll to the left and the feet up. Sometimes, the roll to the left occurs as I am putting you down and you roll right out of my arms and land with a soft bounce in the crib. This doesn't seem to phase you in the least and you go right back to sleep. Sometimes the roll to the left is a full 180 and you end up sleeping nose first in the mattress. You seem to be okay with this so we just kinda leave you to do your thing. And 12 hours later, you're up and ready to take on the world again!

Interestingly, you have only recently started to motate in your crib. Prior to the last few weeks, you would wake up and cry out for me in the same position I put you in bed the night before. But now... well, now you can be any where in that crib. And sometimes you cry out because your leg is stuck in between the slats of the crib and this upsets you because it restricts your mobility and apparently, there was something on the other side of the crib you wanted to check out.

You still aren't able to sit on your own yet. You seem to always fall to the left. I think in another month you may have it mastered. So... like tomorrow?

And you still don't have any teeth!!! But the drooling has reemerged as a lost art. You drool ALL THE TIME! And I keep expecting you to have some teeth popping through but, alas... NOTHING!

Another new development for you... we introduced you to Aunt KC's dog, Gus. You sister... well, she loved Gus from the moment she met him when she was your age. You? NOT SO MUCH. Why? We can only guess that the terrified cries you let loose whenever he gets within sight have something to do with the fact that even though Gus is unaware of this, THAT THING IS NOT HUMAN!!! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!

Or something like that.

We've tried it twice now... and it doesn't matter if you're up in our arms, completely protected from "The Beast", as your Daddy likes to call him... you are simply NOT HAVING IT. Which doesn't bode well for when we dog-sit for Aunt KC this winter while she is in Thailand doing whatever it is you do in Thailand... aka: nothing legal.

Which is why you are to stay away from Aunt KC, understand?

You have so many expressions these days, Millie. We can't get enough of your smiles and the way you study your world.

Today was the last day that you nursed. We had a nice morning nurse session and... yep. That was it. It's crazy... it's almost like the last few weeks, you have decided that you've had enough of nursing and prefer the bottle. I have a hard time keeping you on the breast... I think you get frustrated with it. Usually in the morning I can only get you to take one side... and you just get too distracted with what's going on around you and you want to see it. Which is a lot easier with a bottle.

So... we made it to 6 months of nursing. Yay! In other news, I just got a $160 a month raise (the cost of the prescription to even have milk). And, more oxygen will get to my brain now that I'm off the medication. So, there's that. I thought I would feel more sentimental about stopping nursing with you... but you honestly seem like you were kinda over it. So. There you have it. Mommy doesn't have to carry the pump with her to work anymore... which is good because most of the time, I forgot it and had to come back home and pick it up.

I can't wait to see what the next few months bring with you. You are just the happiest baby and I hope that you continue to enjoy your world... and bring joy to it.

I guess now I can start panicking about your first birthday party. Yowza!

Love,
Mama

Busy Knees

2011-08-22T10:25:00.000-07:00

I've been so bad about writing lately. Things have just been so incredibly busy. And I know I used to say before I had kids that I was super busy... what with all my eating and sleeping and such. And I just had no time to blog because when I wasn't sleeping or eating or riding my bike - btw, not sure I know how to ride a bike anymore - I was busy watching TV. Specifically, I was busy rushing home to catch the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother.

Because that's what my busy was back in the day. Slap Bet, Slapsgiving, yellow umbrella... I hardly had time to get my weekly massage and mani/pedi. People, you should see what my toes look like these days. It's not pretty. But it's nothing compared to my legs, because et's be honest... if my legs actually saw a razor at this point of my life, they'd spontaneously start to bleed in anticipation.

These days, my "busy" is legit. Legit as in go, go, go from the moment I wake up in the morning to the second I actually fall face first into the bliss of a cool pillow on my bed at night. And none of it is about me. God... remember when things were about ME? When was that? 2008? Remember when I didn't worry about having food in the house because I could pretty much scrape by on marshmallows and mustard? With a toddler and a baby, you don't get to have the luxury of not having food in the house. OMG! Remember when not having food in the house was a luxury because it meant that you could just run out to a burger joint and grab something really quick? GEEZ!! Remember when the term "really quick" was a part of my vocabulary when talking about doing something?

Enter the toddler who actually needs some type of nutrition 25/7 And no.... that 25 is not a typo. With a toddler, every day is longer than it should be. (But, on a positive note, when The Toddler is happy, you wish the day was 30 hours long!) And you have to make sure she has access to some type of food item all 25 of those hours. And that "luxury" of having no food in the house? Now it's THE END OF THE WORLD. It's not like I can throw her a chicken bone to gnaw on because I haven't had time to grocery shop (in, I dunno.... 3 weeks?) which means we have ZERO food in the house. (And that's including food that one might classify as edible food-like substances)(like, perhaps the Velveeta Shells and Cheese that I just ate because I've apparently thrown the towel in on nutrition today.)( trust me... that's NOT food.) (and i still have no idea what i had been smoking when i decided to purchase that crap a year ago.) Not that I haven't thought about the chicken bone once or twice... especially this morning for breakfast when all she wanted was "boshe" (toast). And I was all... Mommy hasn't had time to grocery shop SINCE YOU WERE BORN, so there's no toast today.

These things... they don't go over so well with The Toddler. And I don't blame her. I mean, she's not asking for prime rib at 7 a.m. She's not demanding chocolate cake. Hell... she not even asking for cereal (today) And, she's not asking me to try to explain to her why it is that I'm thinking of going blonde just to distance myself from all those crazy conservative brunette female "politicians" currently yelling nonsense into the nearest megaphone. She just wants a piece of freakin' toast.

Seriously... I gotta go grocery shopping.

But when you have kids, and you work full-time and the only time you have to yourself during the weekday is lunch hour which you have decided will be your workout time JUST TO SAVE YOUR SANITY... when are you supposed to go grocery shopping? I've seen those women who do it with their kiddos and yes, even made that mistake once myself (NEVER AGAIN). I'm one of those women that likes to shop sans the screaming toddler who is more than a little bored of riding up and down the aisles. It's like being on vacation... going to the grocery store and taking my time up and down each aisle. When you are by yourself, you get to actually test the avacadoes to determine if they are ripe, rather than just grabbing the first few you see because The Toddler has somehow managed to pull the very bottom cucumber (you know, the one holding the whole pile up?) out and send the rest of them spilling everywhere. Which means now you have to make a mad dash for the exit... lest you be banned from THIS store, too.

Anyway, it looks like we won't be having toast for breakfast tomorrow, either. Cuz Benny's doing work with the GOAL Foundation today. Otherwise, we actually would take the girls to the store and tag team a grocery order. At Costco. Because they have samples... and shoving a sample in her mouth keeps The Toddler happy. And serves as her snack for the day. Two birds, one stone. Word.

But... I digress. I've been busy. But the other day I had some time to myself and happened to read an old blog that I ran with a friend. We would post our IM chats that we had which, I still believe, were comic genius. Anyway, going through those and reading them was so much fun because we talked about things that had been happening in our lives that honestly, I had completely forgotten about and it just made me all sorts of sentimental about the memories.

And about my 20's.

So, without further ado... an update as to what's been going on the last few weeks. And a promise to myself to be better about updating. I have no excuse since I've got both kiddos going to bed no later than 7:30 every night.

A couple of months ago, I started working out at Crossfit Ogden. I'd pretty much ruled out crossfit for years because it seemed too trendy. Look at me. The triathlete. Writing something off as too trendy. Self-aware, much? Anyway, I was neck-deep in triathlon training and, you know... why would anyone lift weights... voluntarily?? Fast forward to 2011 and I had at least three chins and multiple back rolls of fat. I wouldn't go out and run by myself because.... blah. I don't want to run. Besides, it hurts to run. My knee hurts when I run... blah, blah, blah. My achilles hurt when I run... blah, blah, blah. So, I decided to try crossfit and immediately fell in love with it. That is until after the second week, until my left knee blew up to the size of an elephant. Not the size of an elephants knee, mind you. THE ACTUAL ELEPHANT.

Dr. Benny referred me to a doctor friend of his, who then referred me to an orthopedic surgeon... because I had a torn meniscus. No big deal for the surgeon who obviously wanted to get in there and fix it. Cuz that's how he be paid. But after he explained that if it was one type of tear, it was only about a week of recovery, but if it was another type of tear, it was about 6 months and they wouldn't know until they went in... I told them (kindly)(so as not to piss off the surgeon with the scalpel) that they could take their surgery and shove it. How in the world was I going to voluntarily roll the dice that may result in crutches for 6 weeks when I've got a 21 month old and a 5 month old to take care of.

Not fair to them.

Not fair to Benny.

Not fair to ME!

So, instead I just had the good doctor remove all of the excess fluid and told him I would see how I felt and go from there. I felt pretty good until a few weeks ago when I noticed it starting to swell a little... and hurt a lot. I've modified my training so that the knee is protected from certain lifts. But, I have not managed to modify my gardening and a couple of weeks ago, I was in an argument with the crab grass in the front garden and while crawling from one patch of grass to be pulled to another I heard a distinct crunch in my knee. To which the crab grass laughed heartily. In other news, I have decided the the only way to deal with said grass at this point is to go nuclear and this fall will be tearing out the entire garden, spraying it to kill everything and starting over again next year. Benny... please make a note as this directly affects you and your workload. You're welcome.

*Ahem*

So, I went back in to beg the doc for an MRI so I could know what I was facing (he agreed). While I was there, I asked him to look at my other knee because I'd been having some IT band problems. Yea.... no. Another torn meniscus. Oh, and btw... can you also look at my achilles tendons? I have these big bumps on both of them. Tendonosis? What's that? WHAT DO YOU MEAN PARTIAL TEARS?

So, that visit to the doc was productive. Yay, me. To be honest, what's really bothering me lately is my left achilles. Nothing that a shot won't supposedly help... but since I'm the chick that needs gas just to make it through a tooth cleaning.... Holy crap, can you imagine how bad a shot in the achilles is gonna hurt?

Of course, everyone around me jumps on crossfit being bad for me. (This includes the first doc). But, I ultimately have to correct them. Crossfit didn't jack up my knees. My knees have hurt for years but I ignored them. I blamed part of it on college basketball. I've already had two surgeries on my left knee for overuse due to sports. The right knee... well, it was just a matter of time. Peeps bag on crossfit when they find out I'm injured. But, I've been injured doing triathlon (hello, sunburn and twisted ankles from running), playing volleyball (hello, sprained ankle!) playing basketball (hello, jacked up back!), riding my bike (hello, road rash and sore tush!), swimming (hello, flip turns at the wall that I am still unable to do without drowning!). So I think I can safely put to rest the myth that crossfit hurt my knee. Ultimately, I think the problem is that I have a medium frame, which couldn't support the fat that I gained during pregnancy. And, let's face it... I was 20 pounds overweight when I first got prego. So, it wasn't just the 40-50 pounds I gained during the pregnancy. It was a total of about 60-70 pounds extra that my body was having to handle every day.

Are we really surprised that the cartilage in my knees couldn't take it?

It's a working theory, but a theory nonetheless.

I get the MRI for both knees on Tuesday and then on Wednesday, we'll know how to proceed. If it's the 6-month recovery tear, I'll be suffering with the pain for another couple of years and just keep losing weight, hoping that will help. I'm also going to start re-taking glucosomine and fish oil. I had been taking those when I initially found out the diagnosis... but I think somehow it was bothering Millie so decided to go off of them until I was done nursing.

Speaking of which... Monday is Millie's last day of nursing. I made it to 6 months... woo-hoo! I just don't think it's a good idea to be on the medication I'm on just to have milk much longer. I've already been on it 4 months longer than they recommend. Plus... that sucker costs me $40 a week!!! AND I have to somehow get to the other side of town to pick it up! LIKE I HAVE THAT KIND OF DOUGH OR TIME!

Since starting crossfit, I've lost about 30 pounds. I only need to lose 40 more. Which should not be easy since I'm going to stop nursing on Monday. I should gain about 15 pounds by Friday.

Because that's how I roll at 34. Dramatically different than 24.

But, even with the knee issue and the weight issue? Being 34 is so incredibly better than being 24. I wouldn't trade it for brand new knees.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some spare time and I think I might go grocery shopping.

Learning To Be A Mommy - Day By Day

2011-08-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

One of the things I most look forward to during the week, are the weekends with the girls. I don't know if it's just because it's summer and there are so many fun things to do with them, but I can't wait for the day to get going Saturday morning. This usually involves a walk down to the local coffee shop and then perhaps a walk to the park.

It was our walk to the shop on Saturday morning that I told Benny how important it is to me that we be "in the moment" with our girls. Because Hazel's growing up so fast that I'm already feeling a little melancholy about her childhood. And she's STILL a toddler! I just know that there's going to come a time, in the not too distant future, when these walks simply won't happen. When we simply won't get to interact in such an innocent way with our girls. When they won't stop to look at every snail, roly-poly bug or dragonfly along the walk. When they'll be more interested in boys or the latest techy gadget that they can zone out with.

I want to be able, at that time, to not have any regrets about the time I spent with them when they were young. It's hard enough that they're in day care during the day and I'm missing a lot anyway. I want to make up for that by being completely present with them when we do have this time on the weekends and in the mornings and nights of the weekdays. In my mind, it's quality vs quanity. I feel like we do a pretty good job of this. I can't even tell you the last time I watched TV for more than 5 minutes... I can guarantee it was after the kiddos went to bed. And even then, I didn't have time to zone out because there was laundry to do, or I had to pick up the remnants of an awesome wrestling session in the living room... and an epic dinner in the kitchen.

And I love it. Just being in the moment... and being there when Hazel discovers a rock that she wants to put in her pocket. I love being there to help her put it in her pocket and I love being there to witness just how much she LOVES pockets. I love being there when Millie stares at her older sister adoringly... and Hazel gives her a big kiss and a hug. These... these are moments that become tattooed on my heart.

But then... then there are days like yesterday when I feel like I have completely failed as a mother. I know a lot of people are going to say that I'm too hard on myself. That she won't remember how I yelled at her for the non-stop whining. Because there was nothing she was whining about. She was just whining about... being. And after the 45th minute of the whining... I yelled. Just yelled her name in a stern YELLING voice. But she startled and looked at me with an innocence that just said to me: "I'm not even 2 yet. I just don't know how to handle my emotions in this big world. Why are you yelling at me?"

And, of course, I felt immediately guilty. I dropped down to a knee, told her I was sorry and that I loved her and that I just needed her to use her words instead of whining. She curbed the whining somewhat after my outburst... somewhat. But is that how I'm going to control my kiddos? By scaring them with my big loud gym voice?

But, that night when we got home from school, the first thing she saw was the trike that we had picked up at a garage sale that weekend. And... "WANT!"

Benny's out of town for work all week, so I'm single-momming it. And Millie needed to be fed and put to bed. So Hazel's "WANT" came second on the list of priorities. Which obviously is as good a reason as any for an epic meltdown. One that only Cheerios could fix. But when she wanted to eat her Cheerios on the table... which would mean she would end up standing on the chair and probably falling off the chair, as she is prone to do... Mommy had to explain that her choice was to eat Cheerios in her high chair, or not eat Cheerios at all. Those were the only choices.

ANOTHER epic meltdown. One that had me taking her to her room, asking her if she needed to go to bed (NO!) and then putting her down in her crib anyway because she was hitting me and pushing me away. And she immediately tried to climb out of the crib... all of the while screaming bloody murder. We tried the high chair again. NO!!! She tried the table again. No. We ended up back in her room in the crib. NONONONONO! Finally, I left her in her room and shut the door. I stood outside the door and listened (as punishment to myself) to her losing her freaking mind and pounding on the door. After about 30 seconds, I opened the door and she ran into my arms.

Making me feel like a complete arse.

I remember when I was a kid (although, not as young as Hazel) that sometimes when I misbehaved and my mom was mad at me... sometimes all I wanted was a hug and for her to tell me she still loved me regardless.

I also remember telling Benny - on SUNDAY - that I don't want to be a yeller. That I know I have it in me to yell (genetics)... but I just think that I can raise my girls without yelling at them. I mean... for the LOVE... she's not even 2 yet! Surely, I have enough emotional intelligence to not let a toddler send me into a tailspin of frustrated yelling.

So, yea... yesterday was a fail. But I guess as a parent, that's how it goes. I can learn from it and work harder for the next day. I'm not going to let one bad day define my parenting ability.

And today? Today, we had a much better morning. No whining. Just happiness.

Success.

Five Months of The Bean

2011-08-04T19:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
You turned 5 months old a couple of weeks ago. And, of course, Mommy hasn't been able to sit down to write you a proper update as to what you've been up to in the last month. But tonight, it's just me, a beer, some citronella candles and a quiet evening in the backyard while you and your sister sleep. I figure this is my last chance to get your 5-month update written before, you know... I need to write your 6-month update.

Big things have happened for you in the last month. For one, you've started sleeping through the night. For another... wait! Who cares what else? YOU'RE FREAKING SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT. Once again, solidifying your rock star status with me.

It was so incredible. The night you turned 5 months old was the first night you slept 12 hours. I mean, if you want to be technical, you were sleeping through the night at 4 months... but that only means you slept 6-8 hours in a row. Which means Mommy was still getting up to feed you at 3 or 4 a.m. Sorry... I don't count that as sleeping through the night.

The last month, you have been going to bed at 6:30 and sleeping until 6:30-7 a.m.. It's freaking amazing. You're freaking amazing. You always wake up happy and... peaceful. And you make my day start off on the right track. That's a pretty incredible, invaluable talent. Please... DON'T EVER LOSE THAT TRAIT!

You are growing so fast, baby girl. I can't believe how quickly you're going through clothes. You are currently wearing 6-9 month old clothes. But if I get in a pinch, I can easily stuff you in a 12-month old outfit. I keep having to go through your wardrobe and remove clothes that don't fit you anymore. And it's so sad to me because... well I know that we won't be using these clothes again. And I just want you to stay in those sizes just a leetle bit longer. Because I know how fast time flies. Your sister was your size just yesterday!!!

You are such a happy baby, Mill-o. That's what we call you, by the way. You've graduated from "The Bean" to Mill-o. As in Mellow Mill-o. Or Miller. As in "It's Miller Time!". Or Mills. As in... well, just Mills.

You giggle sooooo much. And love to play in your jump-a-roo. If I let you, you'd stay in that thing all day long. You're getting really, REALLY good at moving from one place to another. I can leave you in your gym and two minutes later come back to check on you and you... and whatever toy you happen to be interested in at the time... are on the other side of the room. You do a LOT of rolling right now.

You're also really coordinated with your hands and have a lot of dexterity already. Your sister knows this first hand as often when she comes to give you a hug and a kiss in the morning, she ends up in tears because you've grabbed a hold of her hair. Mommy shouldn't laugh. But sometimes your sister wakes up on the wrong side of the crib and Mommy needs something to make her laugh to take the tension out of the morning, understand?

You've become much more of a snuggler lately, which pleases Mommy and Daddy immensely. You like to cuddle right up into our necks when you're sleepy and it doesn't take long for you to be completely zonked out. That's on thing about you, Mill-o. When you're tired, you sleep. And you'll find a way to sleep.

This last weekend, we went up to Preston to go to the annual parade. It didn't start until 6:30. So, of course, you were asleep in your car seat as it started. Tractors, the band, a 16-wheeler, a firetruck... everything went by and you stayed sound asleep. But around 7:45, the last "float" came by. It was a car for the Demolition Derby. And it's like the driver sought out the family with a stroller and revved his engine right by your stroller.

And that as the end of that sleep. Mommy had a few choice words to say to the driver. But Daddy was able to be the voice of reason and stop me from being THAT lady. You know... the one who is upset that there is noise in a parade.

For a while it seemed like you were never going to stop slobbering. I was running through bibs like nobody's business. And you were spitting up a lot more than I remembered your sister doing. But in the last few weeks, the slobbering has tapered off quite a bit. And you're not spitting up quite as much... but, still no teeth. Hazel had two by the time she was four months. You're taking your own sweet time about it. I really can't say I'm in a rush for you to teethe, though. I really adore your gummy smile and really don't want you to feel any pain.

You are so aware of the world around you. Mostly, you're aware of where your sister is at all times. But you're also aware of things like being outside and how it's so radically different than being inside. You love to lay on your back and look up at the leaves of the trees. And then you love to roll on your tummy and play with the grass. The ladies at day care say that you're even more aware than Hazel was and even Hazel was off the charts aware. Whatever that means. I guess they see a lot of babies, so I'll trust them. I have only known babies (you and your sis) who liked to take in the world. And who, you just knew, couldn't wait to interact with it.

I've made a decision that I'm going to continue nursing you for the next few weeks until your at least 6 months old. I'm not going to lie. It's going to be hard to stop because I feel so close to you when you're nursing. But it's just so hard on me right now. I have to take medication to have any milk whatsoever. And right now, even that's not giving me a whole lot. You're currently downing 8-12 oz per meal (usually 12 oz before bed). And when I pump, I can only muster - at best - 5 oz right now. It's like my body knows that you're eating more and instead of producing more to keep up with your needs, I'm actually producing LESS. Plus, even to get those 5 oz takes me about 20 minutes of pumping in my office during the day. Which is 40 minutes per day total. And that's a lot of work that I could be getting done.

I don't know what else to say about you other than you have absolutely completed our family. I could not wish for a baby with a better demeanor, or a more beautiful smile and spirit. You and your sister are growing so close every day and it does my heart good to know that the stress and fatigue that comes along with having two kids within 16 months of each other is absolutely going to pay off big time in a couple of years.

Welcome to the gun show.

Love,
Mama

21 Months of The Bird

2011-08-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

Dear Hazel,
This weekend, you turned 21 (months). We celebrated by going to a pool party where you were almost successful in giving Mommy a heart-attack by jumping into the deep end. And then after you survived that near drowning, you were pushed to the ladder, climbed up and REPEATED the insanity for the rest of the day.

When you turn 21 years, I can only hope that you won't show as much persistence with what normally occurs for 21st birthdays. And, just to be on the safe side, promise me that you won't go near a pool that day, mkay?

So, the last two months have been amazing for you. You are growing and developing in leaps and bounds. You continue to mimic your Daddy and I every time we turn around. You also appear to mimic Millie... and you want to sit in her car seat or her jump-a-roo whenever she's not in it. And if YOU can't sit in it, then your dolly will. Sometimes, it's a race for Mommy to get Millie into the jump-a-roo before you can stick your dolly in it. Today, it was Raggedy Ann in the car seat.

You love your little sister something fierce. And, I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating: You make my heart melt every morning when you run out to give Millie a hug and a kiss. And every evening when you give her a kiss goodnight before she goes to bed. And in between when you want to hold her, or hold her hand in the car when we're driving. You can't get enough of your sissy. And she feels the same. Which makes us feel like we're the luckiest parents in the world.

You have been pretty happy lately. Oh, trust me. You have your moments of bi-polarness that comes with just being a toddler in a big world where, yea... you don't have a whole lot of power in yet. Not that you don't try to have all the power. But either we've grown numb to it, or you've decided that being happy is better than being difficult. Could be a little bit of both. But whatever it is, it is most welcome.

You've learned how to pout. That didn't take long. You pout about things like Mommy not letting you drive the car. Or the nice girl on the playground who stopped you from picking up the gum she just spit out. But, it's a cute pout. One that makes me feel bad for you and giggle at the same time. You also demand a binkie. You remember... that thing you REFUSED when you were a baby? That's the one. And you want your binkie all the time. And if you can't have your binkie, you'll gladly take Millies. And then hand it to me. Or try to put it back in her mouth. Because, how in the world did it get out of there in the first place?

When I pick you up from day care these days, you walk out with me and wait patiently for me to put Millie down so that we can put you in the car first. I have to do it this way because I'm terrified that you'll run out in the traffic and get killed in the 2 seconds it takes for me to get the carrier secured into the car. So, I set Millie on the sidewalk and turn around to pick you up. As soon as I set her down... THE GAME IS ON. You take off running and giggling back to the door for day care. You love the chase. Mommy doesn't mind the chase, unless she's sore from Crossfit... which is 90% of the time. Sometimes, I have to trick you into getting closer to me before I set Millie down so I have a chance at catching you. But you seem to be picking up on my cleverness.

You are full of words these days, too. Besides truck (tuck), tractor (takta), and binks (binkie), you've now incorporated a word that makes me giggle: Nope.

Hazel, do you want Mommy to change your diaper?

Nope.

Hazel, do you want to go outside?

Nope.

Hazel, can you please stop licking the pool deck?

Nope.

Hazel, would you like to eat chocolate cake and stay up all night long?

Nope.

Seriously... there's just something about the word "nope" that cracks me up and is so much better to hear than the word "no". It might be the emphasis you put on the P, or it might be that I'm seeing so much of myself in you by you just using that word vs the standard "no". I don't know. But it's honestly so heartwarming to me.

You also say "yea"... a lot. This upsets your Daddy as he's all about you speaking correctly.

Hazel, do you want some grapes?

Yea.

Yessssss. Say yesssss.

Yesssssssssssss.

Okay! Let's get some grapes.

Meanwhile, when Daddy's not looking, Mommy continues to say "Yea". Because I can't remember not to say sh%t, d#^m and h*ll in front of my little mimic. There's no way I'm going to remember to say "Yes" instead of "Yea". Call it the White Trash in me. I can't change.

And yea... let's talk about the swearing for a bit. Honestly... has the music industry always had this much swearing??? I am now FORCED to listen to nursery songs because I think that you like Chris Brown a leetle too much and he's got a couple of f-bombs in his song that Mommy keeps forgetting about. See? These are things that I always thought parents needed to chill about. So the FCC allows the words "ass", "hell" and "damn" to be played on the radio. Who cares? Good parenting should overcome that. THE REST OF US SHOULDN'T BE FORCED TO LISTEN TO EDITED VERSIONS OF WORDS THAT, LET'S BE HONEST, ARE THEY EVEN SWEAR WORDS?

And then I had a toddler who is an absolute sponge. And I really don't want to be raising "that kid" in day care. The one that teaches all of the other kids the four-letter words. Trust me... every class has that kid. I still remember "that kid" that I went to school with.

Anyway, we're trying to get you to say "yea" or "yes" a lot. Because this means you're not being disagreeable and are willing to do what we ask you. Because if we ask you something and you say "nope", and then we force you to do it anyway... THE TODDLER IS NOT HAVING IT. But, if we can trick you by asking you questions that you say "yea" to... in rapid-fire succession, and then throwing in the one that you would normally say "no" to... well, it's like magic. Because even though you don't necessarily want to do something, it's like you know that you just said "yea"... and there's no going back on "yea". Or, at least you haven't quite figured that out yet.

It's awesome.

And, you have recently put together your very first phrase. I had always dreamed of the first semi-coherent sentence would be something like: "Mommy. I love you and you're the most beautiful Mommy in the world. Can I rub your feet with lotion, please"

Or something like that.

Never, in any of my dreams, was your first phrase: "NO WANT IT!" The good news? Now we know that if we give you the banana anyways when you say "NO WANT IT!", that it will likely end up on the floor. The bad news? Holy crap... now you really think you have a choice in your life. No bueno.

You've also become super "helpful" in the last couple of months. You pick things up off the floor.... or the table... or out of the trash can... or out of your nose... and hand it to me. Yay. Mommy.

This has been an epic summer for you so far. We've gone to the beach, we've gone swimming, we've gone to parades, we've hit the park every weekend, we've gone to Kangaroo Zoo and let you jump around all afternoon, we've hit petting zoos, we've gone to the farm, we have gone to the farmers market so you can ride the choo-choo train and the covered wagon. WE HAVE WORN OURSELVES OUT FOR YOU! And you have loved every single minute of it.

You continue to adore music and moving your body. You've started to jump up and down as well. And you're getting some good height! Your new favorite song (and I can't believe I'm admitting this) is Chris Brown's Yeah 3X's. We are required to listen to this song on the way too and from school. Or whenever we're out and about. For whatever reason, you LOVE this song. Mommy used to love the song... but Mommy's kind of over it right about now.

You love to take walks to the park with your little sister. Our favorite park is Mt. Ogden... because it's super shady and you don't burn your little tush going down the slid. And can we talk about the slide for a second? Because, kiddo... you have NO FEAR. You go to the biggest slide they have and just launch yourself like it's just another day at the... well, park. And if there are other kids there, oh, you're ALL ABOUT other kids. And you're also all about climbing and being a monkey. Mostly when Mommy's not looking. The first time this happened, I turned my head for one second to make sure I didn't step in dog poop and when I turned back to tell you to that it was time to go, I discovered that you were hanging by one arm - BY ONE ARM, HAZEL - from a bar at the top of the playground equipment. I knew that if I yelled and ran over to you, it would startle you and you might let go... and rather than wearing the poop-eating grin you were sporting, you'd have a broken FACE. I tried to nonchalantly run over to you, but when I was about 8 feet away, you lost your grip and fell face first on to the ground. About a 7 foot drop. I have no idea how you didn't scrape you face along the giant beam that you landed by. And I have no idea how you didn't break a bone. What I do know is that it scared you... but not enough to keep you away from other death traps. There are currently bets out there to see who is going to survive your childhood. You or me. I'd say right now it's 70-30 in your favor.

You still love to eat. Although, I will say that sometimes you don't eat your whole meal... because you're too excited about playing or rough housing with Daddy. OMG do you love rough housing with Daddy. It's the best part of the day. You're also learning how to play with other kids and adore hanging out with Gavin and Jilly. Gavin took you to a parade and made sure that you didn't get lost. Cuz that's what big brothers do.

You're still a Daddy's Girl, but you are getting over your need to have him hold you the minute he walks in the door. You still run to him and jump up for a hug, but you're able to go about your business after that. And, can I be honest? AWESOMENESS.

Last night, you made me laugh harder than I've ever laughed at you. Seriously, baby girl. You discovered last night how much fun it is to make Mommy laugh. For the first time, you did something purposely to make someone else, besides yourself, laugh. It all started when you ate a grape that, perhaps, was a little sour or tart. I happened to be watching you eat and caught the fist-clenched, eyebrows-arched, lips-pursed, full-body shiver that followed. And it CRACKED me up. You didn't catch on at first, probably thought that Mommy was just being weird again. But then you had another tart grape and another full-body shiver. And Mommy lost it again! That's when you figured it out, and started making the tart-grape face. Over. And over. And over, again! Seriously... I could not stop laughing. And you kept making that face. Pretty soon, I asked: "Hazel. Can you make Mommy laugh?" And because you're brilliant, you understand exactly what I'm asking and pull the tart-grape full-body shiver face. Daddy couldn't figure out what all the ruckus was about... and was sure I was exaggerating how funny you were. But then he caught a glimpse of "The Face". And, well... he realized that I was right. Funniest. Thing. Ever. (below is a pic of "the face"... along with a scrape of "the nose". it's rough being a toddler)

I think we realized that it was the first time you've ever recognized that something you're doing is making someone else laugh. And you LURVE it. I suspect that you're going to have quite the sense of humor when you grow up.... which is good because one of the most important tools you can have in your personality? Humor. How in the world do you think I survived college? How in the world do you think I survived those first few dates with you Dad? For the love, how in the world do you think I have survived every day of your childhood thus far? I have to laugh. Laugh at you. Laugh at your Daddy. Laugh at myself. Laugh at this world that changes every day. And, most importantly, laugh at the absurdity that is the cost of a gallon of gas.

You are a friendly little cuss, Hazel. So much so that I feel the need to teach you about Stranger Danger. But to you, in your innocent world, everyone is a friend. And everyone is capable of holding you when you demand "UP!". You love visiting the farm and spending time with Grandma and Grandpa. Especially on Grandma's hammock. There are so many cool things at the farm... I can't wait until you get a little older and can really enjoy it

.

You have started to become much more balanced in your demands of who should be paying attention to you. No longer do you demand that Daddy hold you all the time. Now, sometimes you actually want Mommy. Which is awesome.

Seriously, Hazey. You have turned into such a little girl. You're not a baby anymore. (Which I keep reminding you when you try to get in the jump-a-roo) And it happened when I wasn't looking. It's like you turned one... and then the world started to spin faster and you aged and developed at a faster rate than I was able to adjust to. It wasn't that long ago that you were screaming in my ear all night long. It wasn't that long ago that you took Daddy and me through the initiation of First Time Parents. How you managed to escape relatively unharmed is still beyond my comprehension. And now... now I have this vivacious, happy, not-quite-2-year-old that brings a smile to my face every stinkin' day. HOW DID YOU DO THAT? And is the rest of your life going to fly by as quickly?

I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that.

Love,
Mama

Day In The Life

2011-07-22T10:49:00.000-07:00

Benny's off to Idaho for an "epic, babe" fishing trip with his friends and I've got the girls all to myself for the next couple of days.

I don't mind admitting it... a year ago, with just one little girl to look after, the prospect of dealing with her alone for two whole days TERRIFIED me. But there's something to be said about how time wounds all heels... and also something to be said about growing up and growing into the role of "Mommy".

And I gotta admit, I'm psyched to spend some time together. Just the three of us.

Part of this may be because (with the exception of this morning when she couldn't figure out how to get Daddy's onion cutting goggles to fit on her face... and OMG, end of the world!) Hazel has been an absolute doll lately. She has her moments, sure... but for the most part, she's just a ton of fun. And then there's Millie. I'm telling you... this chick is THEEEE coolest baby on the block. Nothing phases her. Not her sister walking on her. Not her sister screaming with joy in her face. Or her sister stealing her binkie for the zillionth time that morning.

I remember when it was just Hazel and I'd hear her wake up in the morning, I'd get this anxiety like: OMG... I have to do this all over again?? And thus my day would begin... sometimes on a sour/bitter note. But I guess I've finally figured out how to be a Mommy and have embraced all that it means. I totally look forward, every. single. morning. to waking up with my girls. I look forward to "visiting" with Hazel over breakfast. Even when that breakfast consists of her eating her applesauce/yogurt/cereal with her hands and then smearing it EVERYWHERE. I look forward to seeing Millie's smiling face when she (finally) wakes up. And my day starts off on an amazing note when Hazel loves on her little sister... and Millie can't get enough of her big sister. It's such a heart-warming moment that I get a little teary-eyed every morning.

So, since I know I probably won't remember how these mornings went 20 years from now, I thought I'd document a step-by-step guide to A Weekday in the Life of The Bean and The Bird - Circa Summer 2011:

1) Anywhere between 3:30-5:30 a.m. - Millie wakes up for an early morning snack and then goes back to sleep. Cuz she's an amazing baby and yep... is sleeping through the night at 5 months.
2) Anywhere between 7:00-7:30 a.m. - Hazel wakes up and starts telling stories in her room. Mostly about the dots on her sheets, but can include stories about the doggie next to her bed. Or the Tumblebus she played on two days prior.
3) 7:15-7:30 a.m. - Mommy gets up, showers and gets dressed. While listening to Hazel's stories. This includes getting the gym bag, breast pump, cooler for breast milk, miscellaneous items that have to be taken to day care (diapers, wipes, blankies) ready. And trying to find her keys.
4) 7:35 a.m. - Mommy gets Hazel out of bed. If Millie has woken up prior to this, she is waiting for Hazel in the jump-a-roo.
5) 7:36 a.m. - Hazel runs over to Millie and screams with joy right in her face, to which Millie responds with a - wait for it - smile (and a little drool). Hazel then hugs Millie and starts telling her about the dots on the sheets of her bed. And the Tumblebus... OMG HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THE TUMBLEBUS, MILLIE?
6) 7:45 a.m. - Hazel has breakfast. This usually consists of a banana (nana), toast (boshe) and applesauce. But can be a pancake if Mommy is feeling ambitious. Hazel would like for it to include moosh (mousse) for her to put in her hair, but applesauce will do just fine.
7) 8 a.m. - If Millie is awake, we attempt a feeding. If Millie is still asleep, we attempt to wake her up pleasantly. This is not always possible with a toddler testing out the socially acceptable limits of her voice.
8) 8:05 a.m. - Mommy changes Millie's diaper and gets her dressed for school. Hazel watches and waits patiently for the opportunity to step on Millie's face or back.
9) 8:06 a.m. - Mommy attempts to catch Hazel to change her diaper and get her dressed for school. This requires Mommy to be faster and more mobile around the couch or table than the 21-month-old who thinks this is the greatest. game. EVER. Even better than Angry Birds.
10) 8:10 a.m. - After catching Hazel, Mommy must attempt to wrestle a honey badger into a new diaper and an outfit. And honey badger doesn't care. Honey badger doesn't give a &*%#. Sometimes, honey badger is cooperative and doesn't attempt to kick Mommy in the eye, nose, mouth, or boob. But sometimes, Mommy has to just hold the honey badger down and wait for submission. This process can take anywhere from 5 minutes to THE END OF TIME.
11) 8:17 a.m. - Mommy attempts to put her face on. (Over her game face. Which, as a rule, she has on at all times.) And fails miserably because she has to make sure Hazel isn't drawing on her sisters face with the pen that was accidentally left within reach. Or allowing her sister to suck on her toes. And Hazel! Where did you find that sleeve of Ritz crackers? NO CRACKERS IN THE MORNING!
12) 8:20 a.m. - Oh look! Mommy forgot to get Hazel's shoes ready with the rest of the outfit. Repeat steps 9 and 10.
13) 8:24 a.m. - Mommy puts Millie in her carrier... with her blankie, binkie and giraffe. Millie is just happy to be alive and Hey Mommy!!! Can I possibly be easier? No? Okay then! I'm just gonna sit here and smile while you try to negotiate with my sister about why she can't wear the picture frame she took apart and put over her head.
14) 8:26 a.m. - Hazel's in her car seat, Millie's in her car seat. Somehow, even though Mommy has resorted to using binkie leashes, Hazel has procured Millie's binkie and has it in her mouth... in a misguided attempt to help build Millie's immune system.
15) 8:30 a.m. - With any luck, we pull out of the driveway and Mommy hasn't forgotten anything important like the pump, a blankie, a dolly, wallet, swim suit for water day... sanity.
16) 8:31 a.m. - Listen to Chris Brown's Yeah 3x's for the first time that morning. We will repeat this song the rest of the trip to day care. If we do not repeat this song the rest of the trip to day care, Hazel will scream MO! MO! MO! at the top of her lungs... waking any sleeping babies in whatever neighborhood we are passing through at that time. Millie thinks it's hilarious. Hazel ~~thinks~~ knows she's in charge. Mommy picks her battles.
17) 8:39 a.m. - Pull into day care, get Millie out, set her on the sidewalk... get Hazel out and with any luck talk her into walking to the door on her own.
18) 8:40 a.m. - Coax her down the stairs with the promise of Second Breakfast. This is the point where Mommy is grateful she's working out because this is the point of the morning where she actually starts to sweat... what with carrying the car seat, walking backwards down the stairs while encouraging The Bird to move it a little faster cuz people are waiting and Mommy... yep, Mommy's gonna be late for work if you don't hurry up.
19) 8:42 a.m. - Drop Hazel off with Miss Denise... where she immediately sits at the table and waits patiently for Second Breakfast. No screaming. No pounding of the fists on the table. Has anyone seen my child? Could have sworn I brought her in here....
20) 8:43 a.m. - Take Millie upstairs to the nursery and try to keep her from noticing the jump-a-roo in a misguided attempt to spend some QT with her before I go to work. It never works and I eventually have to give up and put her in the jump-a-roo. Or stick her in front of a mirror so she can look at herself and giggle.
21) 8:47 a.m. - Remember that I forgot my __________(insert something new every day here), and head back home to pick it up before finally getting to the office.

Mommy has not stopped moving all morning... and has not eaten breakfast. Because that would require an extra set of hands that don't come standard. What goes on in day care varies from day-to-day with both girls. But I pick them up around 5 and that consists of:

1) 5ish - Mommy arrives at day care and goes to pick up Millie first. Millie is, of course, happy and totally cool with being put in her car seat. Hazel gets passed through the window between the nursery and the Toddler A room... where she immediately latches on to a toy and won't put it away because that would be admitting defeat and THIS TOY GOES WHERE I GO, MOMMY.
2) A little after 5ish - Hazel is screaming and in tears because after the hostage negotiation failed with the toy, Mommy just took the toy... thus devastating The Toddler who had just grown so attached to it in the 2 minutes she had held it. Millie is, of course, enjoying the show. Possibly picking up behavioral pointers from The Toddler. For which Mommy will never forgive The Toddler.
3) A little after a little after 5ish - Mommy carries The Screaming Toddler over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, while carrying Millie in the car seat, and walks down the stairs and heads to the car. Mommy needs to stop wearing heels. But let's face it, Mommy's the Strongest Woman Alive and should get a medal for keeping her cool. After securing The Toddler into the car seat and calming her down with the promise of "Dada" or "cracker", Mommy puts Millie in the car and away we go.
4) 5:15ish - 12th Street is under construction and I sometimes avoid it, but Hazel lurves to point at the big trucks and say "duck" or "tuck". And she also attempts to say tractor (tacktah). This takes her mind off the fact that Mommy is mean. Until we get home, at least.
5) 5:25ish - Pull into the driveway and Daddy comes out to welcome his girls home. Hazel immediately latches on to Daddy and will remain stuck to him like glue the rest of the night. Which means that Mommy and Millie get some special time together. Although, Millie is very interested in the rough-housing that is going on with Hazel and Daddy. Mark my words, Daddy isn't that far away from having two little girls climbing all over him every night. I can actually see Millie planning it.
6) 6:30ish - Hazel has eaten and is either reading a book with Mommy or Daddy, wrestling with Daddy or taking a bath. If she is taking a bath, the Nadolski household is pretty calm. For another 15 minutes.
7) 6:45ish - Hazel has gotten out of the tub, run into the living room and promptly peed on the carpet. Mommy or Daddy is feeding Millie
8) 7ish - Millie is asleep and will stay that way until morning. WORD
9) 7:15 - We start the process of putting Hazel to bed. This includes reading a book, brushing her teeth, telling her we love her and putting her down. Takes a total of maybe 15 minutes.
10) 7:30 - Kids are asleep. House is blown up. Mommy and Daddy are wiped.

It's a good life.

Note: It took me three days to write this... Benny got home last night. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the girls, but it's nice to be a whole family once again.

On The Bi-Polarness of Toddlerhood

2011-07-14T14:14:00.000-07:00

One of the very first things I had to learn as a Mommy was patience.

As in:

Just be patient... She probably WON'T scream all night. Just most of it.
Just be patient... She'll eventually stop moving long enough for you to change her diaper. Maybe just in time to potty train.
Just be patient... She'll grow out of it. No. She won't.
Just be patient... And give her some goddamned Tylenol, already!

Patience is a virtue that honestly, I have to learn and re-learn every single day. Especially when we're living the movie/documentary of Toddlerhood: The Bi-Polar Years.

I remember, before I had a toddler, thinking to myself: "Seriously... I survived the first three months of parenthood... having a toddler should be a piece of cake. It can't possibly be as bad as I've heard."

Fast forward 17 months later and OMG... those people - the people that people quote as "they"... as in "they say that the toddler years will make you want rip off your own arm and beat the next stranger that passes by with it.."... THEY WERE RIGHT.

Honestly, we hardly have a day where there's not some kind of a dramatic scene the likes of Grey's Anatomy - or, I dunno, American Idol, maybe? - have never seen. Not that we actually watch these shows anymore... because we're often in the middle of a full-on meltdown. Usually caused by Mommy or Daddy not doing exactly what The Toddler wants. Be it holding her, not holding her, not cutting her grapes/bananas/insert other choking hazard here fast enough, feeding her, not letting her play with matches, not letting her drink bleach... you know, things that you start to wonder "Is the fit really worth it? I mean, how harmful can bleach really be?"

And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being patient, when all I want to do is rationally explain to The Toddler that it's not okay to hit Mommy in the face because you didn't want peas tonight. Why can't you, a thriving - albeit verbally-challenged - 20 month old understand the concept of ONE. MOOD? Mommy's not down with the Happy-One-Second, Deranged-The-Next Personality Disorder of The Terrible 16 Months and Up.

That's right... Terrible Twos? Please. I would give my pregnancy-induced cavity-filled teeth for this crap to have started when she was 24 months.

I cannot keep up with the I want up, I want down, I want peas, THE PEAS ARE TRYING TO KILL ME, MOMMY! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?, I love you, I hate you, I want my dolly, DON'T TOUCH MY DOLLY!, I want your phone, Your phone is my phone, My phone is my phone... the rest of you can go screw yourself... And if you ever even think about taking my phone (your phone) away from me, the eruption that will take place will make Vesuvius look like a mere pimple bursting.... mentality of The Toddler Years.

Honestly... can't. keep. up.

"They" keep saying that one day we'll look back at this period in our lives with melancholy about how easy life was... and how fleeting these times are.

I suspect I'll look back on these days and think... I cannot believe they made it out alive.

Because, honestly? "These days" are the reasons that some animals eat their young.

Quick... Before I Forget How To Type

2011-06-30T21:03:00.000-07:00

I'm losing my mind. Seriously. I have the brain power of... I dunno. What's something that has a tiny brain? That white thing with feathers that tastes so good next to mashed potatoes?

See what I mean? It's getting ridiculous. It's getting beyond ridiculous.

Exhibit A:
Twice in the last month, I've locked the keys in the car and my understanding and never-exasperated-at-my-forgetfulness husband has had to drive from the other side of town to rescue me.

The first time, it was a little inconvenient, as it was at day care and the girls and I had to wait for Benny to get there and save us. This consisted of Millie snoozing in the car seat, while I attempted to prevent Hazel from eating ants and pulling out all of the pansies along the walkway.

The second time was yesterday and was kind of... a pain in the rear. We were closing on the refinance on the house at 3 p.m.. At exactly 2:36, I packed up my stuff (breast pump, cooler, lunch containers, phone, water bottle, ice pack.... kitchen sink) and realized that I didn't have my keys with me.

And then I remembered why.

I had worked out at lunch and had to run home quickly to shower, lest the one time someone comes to the office is the day I am looking like I got beat down with the Crossfit Stick. Even uglier than the Ugly Stick. For sure smells worse.

Anyway, as I was driving away from the house, I got a call from Benny telling me to bring my checkbook to the closing. Which was in the house. No problem... I needed to grab an ice pack for my knee anyway, so I turned the car around, ran back in, grabbed the checkbook (and a hard boiled egg from the fridge... random) and headed back to the car. Once in the car, I remembered the ice pack. So, back in I went. Where I proceeded to pour myself a glass of ice tea and head back to the car. Again, realizing I had forgotten the ice pack, I ran back in and... grabbed my cell (which, oh yea!! need that!) and another hard boiled egg (ps... I make the worlds best hard boiled eggs... truth) AND CAME BACK OUT TO THE CAR SANS THE STUPID ICE PACK.

So, that's what? Four attempts?

So, when I finally got back to work, I was so flustered (and, quite frankly, amazed that I had remembered the way back to the office and didn't have to call for directions) that I grabbed my ice tea, the two eggs, the ice pack and my cell phone, stashed my wallet in my purse... and for some unknown reasons, threw it in the back seat, locked the doors on the car and headed into the office with my hands completely full.

Because purses and bags are for wimps. And I've never been chic enough to pick out a cool bag/purse that doesn't look like something I bought at the market cuz it was on sale for $5. Let's face it... I actually did buy it at the market for $5.

Oh, right... and along with my wallet, I threw the keys in the purse. So that puts them.... in the backseat.

Awesome.

But that's nothing compared to my inability to retain even the simplest information or instructions. At Crossfit, I have to have the instructor demonstrate and explain to me at least 5 times what a thruster is. It's a move I never learned back in the day, so it's not ingrained into my psyche like squats and hang cleans are, but it's actually a very easy lift once you get the technique down... but can I remember the technique and put it all together? Nope. It's been WEEKS and I still can't remember it.

And work is the worst. I can read something and think to myself that I need to communicate this to certain people and can nod in agreement or disagreement with an idea that is being floated around nationally and I'll think to myself: "Self, this is important stuff. You need to be on top of this one. Cuz if you're not.... oooo, look! A butterfly!"

But as soon as I turn the page, I completely forget what I just read. And I'll have to go back and go through the same thought process... agree/disagree... stay on top of this one... blah, blah, blah. Turn the page. WHAT DID I JUST READ?

Try repeating that 10 times and not feeling like you're a complete idiot.

Have you ever seen a bird fly into a window in your house? It's like that with my brain right now. The bird is the information that I am consuming and it's flying directly into the metaphorical window protecting my brain from retaining anything other than my name, phone number and address. And even then, I'm not always sure. So, here's this information hitting this window... feathers flying everywhere... and I'm sitting around all glassy-eyed going: "What was that sound?"

That sound? That's the sound of your career imploding. That's the sound of silence when your husband has to provide you with a word that you can't just seem to think of.

That word being... chair.

Millie's 4-Month Update

2011-06-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
Last week, you turned four months old. And celebrated that little milestone with your first ear infection. We were on vacation in San Diego and my sweet, little bundle of easy baby turned into a wake-up-every-three-hours nightmare. You didn't have any other symptoms of an ear infection, but on a hunch I took you in and there it was.

So, the first few days of our vacation (for you and me, anyway) were rough. But in the end, it all worked out and you have returned back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness. (Just in time for your four-month shots, but that's another story).

This last month has been a big one for you in terms of growth and development. You are tipping the scales at 16.5 pounds and are 26.5 inches long. You're in the 98th percentile in length and 93rd percentile in weight. So that means that there are at least 2% of babies in this world that are taller than you. (This is progress for our family, as your sister was in the 104 percentile at one point... which seemed to be a little abnormal.) In other words, my four-month old is the approximate size of a nine-month-old. No average four-month-old for you. No siree. Let this be a lesson to you that you are not average.

You are unique...

You are special...

You are sooooo happy! I mean, your sister was a happy baby, but you.... well, you take the cake. I have never heard a baby giggle as hard and as much as you do. It's so fun to just sit on the floor with you and make faces while touching your tickle spots (your legs are extremely ticklish!) and watch you lose your mind in delight. I especially love making you laugh when the two of us are out shopping. When we had to go to the CVS Pharmacy in San Diego to get your meds, you and I had a lovely outing... full of giggles, coos and smiles. In fact, the pharmacists couldn't believe that you had an ear infection. And your laugh was so contagious, that people standing in line behind me couldn't help but smile. I like to think that your laugh brightened up more than a few people's days that day. In fact, a complete stranger came up to you and made you laugh.

I hope that you always have that contagious happiness, Millie. You make every room brighter with your smile. And you don't have to be talked into being happy or laughing. You WANT to be happy. You WANT to laugh. You WANT to be just like your sister... we can see it now. The two of you are going to gang up on us and then we'll really be screwed.

We brought out the jump-a-roo for you a couple of weeks ago. Your sis started in the jump-a-roo when she was four months, but you seemed to be ready for it earlier. You LOVE it. And you play with the attachments already... it's absolutely insane how quickly you progress. For the love! You can already turn yourself around in it! I don't know that Hazel ever mastered that particular skill! You sister loves to play with you in the jump-a-roo. This consists mostly of her getting right in your grill and laughing hysterically. And then stealing your binkie, sucking on it and then attempting to put it back in your mouth. Where she will again steal it and repeat the cycle.

And you love it. You truly love your sister. And she loves you. Has from about the time you were two weeks old. She always wants to play with you, kiss you, hold you, feed you cereal... all things that require Mommy to monitor. But I know that both you and she can't wait until I turn you loose with each other. And then.... well, I hope this ~~neighborhood~~ ~~city~~ ~~country~~ world is ready.

You've also learned how to roll over. It was a sad day when that happened. It was June 4th. I remember because your Daddy was in Vail. I was attempting to bathe Hazel and you were in the living room alone playing in the gym. Your Aunt KC came over and I yelled at her to play with you while I finished bathing your sister. That's when she yelled back: "Um... Millie's trying to roll over."

To which I responded: "No... she's been rolling to her side a lot recently. Usually that's how she falls asleep. Don't worry about it!"

Approximately 20 seconds later...

"Millie just rolled over!"

Yea. And both your Daddy and I missed it. But, at least someone from the family got to see it, right? Huge bummer. But, as it turns out, you're a pretty big fan of rolling over so I like to say that the first time you actually rolled over was on June 5... in front of both Daddy and me. We'll go with that story, mkay?

You have become quite the slobberer in the last month. Literally. You are a drooler, Millie Bean. A big one. I keep thinking that it's because you're about to teethe... as your sister had her first two teeth when she turned four-months-old... but, nope. Nothing. You're just an obligate slobberer.

You're still a binkie baby... although I blame myself for that. I keep hoping that you're transition to the thumb but you get so frustrated trying to suck your thumb that I "help" by sticking the binkie in your mouth. Which means that Mommy can't complain that she has to get up in the middle of the night to plug you back in.

You are still hit and miss on your sleep. Sometimes you can throw down 12 hours (your first was last night!) without a feeding. Other times you wake up every four hours and want to feed. I've instituted a new rule that you only get fed in the middle of the night if it's been at least 6 hours. You're only interested in eating about 5 oz at a time. Which is frustrating because sometimes I wonder if your sleep would be better if you would just tank up at night. But, you're a bit of a snacker. So, we deal.

But, wonder of wonders... you are able to fall asleep at any time, in any place... without so much as a "How do you do?". How many times have I looked over at the gym where you were busy playing and laughing... to discover you are sound asleep? How many times do your Daddy and I say to one another: "Millie's asleep again."? Too many to count. It's hilarious how you can just fall asleep like that!

You are such a fascinating baby, Millie. You really are. This morning, I went in to your room at 8 a.m. to see if you were asleep or at least stirring so I could feed you and you were just laying there... completely awake... just enjoying being. And your face lit up when you saw me. I felt my heart melt right then and there.

I know that these moments are fleeting. I know that by this time next year you're probably going to be throwing temper tantrums like your sister (ah.... the divine comedy of being a toddler!) so right now, all I want to do is cuddle with you and rock you to sleep. I want to make you laugh so I can ingrain that sound of pure happiness into my brain. I want to make you smile so I can take a mental snapshot and think of it when I'm not with you. I want to watch as you and your sister interact and capture those moments in my heart and be grateful at how blessed I am as a mother to witness such things. To know that I gave birth to two such special and amazing spirits. That I'm raising a little family. That I'm in charge of helping you make it through this world. That I have a responsibility to help you become whatever it is that you're destined to become.

I hope and pray that I don't totally screw it up.

Love,
Mama

Zero Sum Game

2011-06-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

Today, I officially got my butt handed to me. Not by the guy at Crossfit. (Yes, yes.. I am currently drinking the kool-aid) No. That wouldn't shred my pride and my confidence in myself into teeny, tiny ribbons that a cat then comes along and poops on. He just made my abs hurt in a way they haven't hurt in years. But I can recover from the physical pain. No problem. Bring on the physical pain! It's the mental pain that hurts the most. And being a parent? Most of the time it's a mental pain.

The butt handing was done by my 19-month-old ~~terror~~ toddler. Hazel, if you're reading this, the reason it's NOT a letter will become clear in 3-2-1....

OH. MY. $%&*ING HELL.

So, Hazel's been pretty sick for the last week or so. She started a cough last Wednesday... nothing too bad. Runny nose. The usual. And then Saturday, she woke up at 3 a.m. with a temp. No bueno. Same thing Sunday and Monday. We couldn't keep her temp down.. and it hovered between 101-103 for most of the day. And honestly? HONESTLY? She was a freaking angel. Probably because she was too hot to do that much complaining.

Well, her fever finally broke Tuesday, but she still has the cough and runny nose. Only now, she's also got the whole I'M GOING TO MAKE MOMMY'S HEAD EXPLODE disposition and really.... SHE'S NAILING IT.

Internet, you should see the house right now. It done be tore up. And do I care? Do I give a tiny rat's ass?

No.

You know why? Because right now, at this very moment, it's quiet. It's peaceful. I hear birds singing. I hear rain on the roof. And I'm not even upset that it's raining.

YOU KNOW WHY? Because I can hear the rain. Which means that I'm NOT hearing the constant, never-ending, nails-on-a-chalkboard, head-exploding, brain-matter-splatting, face-melting, hair-curling, throw-ourselves-on-the-floor whining/crying that has assaulted my ears from the moment The Bird woke up this morning. The same noise I heard for the entire 45 minutes it took for her to eat breakfast which consisted of applesauce a banana and toast. 45. MINUTES. The same noise that I heard for the next 38 minutes that it took to wrangle her into her outfit and shove her into her car seat so that she could go to day care and magically transform into the little girl that everyone at day care wants to take home.

The same noise I heard the very second we crossed the threshold of the house when we got home from day care. The same noise I heard when I gave her dinner and she promptly took her spoon and threw applesauce in her eye. HER OWN EYE. The same noise I heard when I attempted to get the applesauce out of her eye/hair/ear. The same noise I heard when I took the applesauce away after she threw it at me... on the other side of the room. The same noise I heard when she slid out of her booster seat and then proceeded to roll on the ground... refusing to stand up or take some Tylenol... prefering instead to roll under the chair, hitting her head repeatedly on the chair leg. The same noise I heard when I wiped her nose... I theorize that the boogers are actually a manifestation of the evil that has taken over her soul and is now seeping out of her body, looking for the next unsuspecting victim. Seriously, something is wrong with this child. Perhaps the demon inside her woke up with a hangover and really needs some painkiller. WHO KNOWS? All I know is that this noise... IT. MUST. STOP.

I subscribe to an email service called the Daily Groove. Often when I read the insights into parenting that it has to offer on any given day, I just know that somehow, someway, the author has Google Earthed our family and somehow can see inside our house every morning and evening. It speaks to me. And I feel like I'm better able to parent.

HOWEVAH.

I have decided that for every positive, there is a negative. For every time I want to pat myself on the back for not losing my cool, there's a day like today... where I have to stand on the porch and scream. And it's not like I can just scream and go about my business like I could do if I was in an isolated area like the farm where I grew up. Oh, no. You scream around here and people come over to check on you. What makes this even more egregious is that they're normally not bearing gifts like cookies.

Or tequila.

But, I digress.

I believe that opposites can coexist. In peace and harmony. And can showcase ideals, as well what we in the business of being a parent like to call REALITY. This is why I'm starting a new series on the blog:

The Daily Grave.

As in: Hazel/Millie buried me today. I mean it, they PUT ME IN MY GRAVE.

The inaugural Daily Grave is brought to you by two very tired, shell-shocked parents. One of whom is hungover from the motion sickness meds he took this morning.

Today's Daily Groove: No Problems.

Today, try letting go of the idea that conditions "should" be different than they are. Simply accept
them... But don't confuse acceptance with defeat. You can be accepting and still desire change. And change happens easily when you're at peace with What Is.

Today's Daily Grave: 99 Problems... And My Toddler Is All 99 of Them.

Today, when your toddler lets loose the demons deep within her soul, try not to take it personally. But most importantly, don't let her see you cry. Cuz then she wins. And raising kids? A zero sum game. YOU HAVE TO WIN EVERY SINGLE TIME. Crying? There's no crying in parenthood. At least until the kiddos go to bed.

Millie's Room

2011-05-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
I just realized that I have never posted pictures of your room. SHAME ON ME!!! Believe it or not, we actually had it done before you were born, but I never seemed to have the camera with me and I was so busy being irritable and fat, that I couldn't be bothered. I knew that I would eventually get to it... just didn't know it would be when you were three months old! My bad.

Your room was actually our old office space. Which, prior to that, was where the cat lived. Let's just say that this room has come a loooonnnnngggg way.

The office...

... is now your room!

So... you're gonna notice right off a few things that stand out. One, the furniture doesn't match. Doesn't even come close to matching. This is because we scored a free crib from some friends and seriously? You don't turn down free furniture. EVER.

Then we decided to bring Hazel's old dresser/changing table in, along with Big Ugly. (Side note: From day one, you have been intrigued by the flower stickers. It's incredible to me, but you are absolutely entranced by them every time I change you!) We also brought in the boogie machine, the diaper genie and your very own brand new humidifier! I swear by this humidifier. Best money I've ever spent.

Anyway... the room doesn't match. It seemed so important for furniture to match when we put together your sisters room. But that was when we were young, idealistic and had money burning a hole in our pockets. Back when we could afford luxury items... like food. Back when we didn't realize that we had enough money to have a second house somewhere. You know... back before day care sucked every last dime we had hidden underneath the cushions of the couch.

But, I digress.

I found these cute wall decals on Amazon.com, and they were soooo much easier than the ones we put up in Hazel's room. And way cuter. And, surprisingly, WAY cheaper. It's not like you care about them right now, but they're fun for me to look at while you're nursing. I'm also hoping to get rid of the little heater if and when it finally warms up around here. But the way things are going, it might not be until July or August! The sound machine? I take it back... that's the best thing I've ever spent money on. I would have paid $1,000 for that thing. IT'S. THAT. AMAZING.

We're dealing with a much smaller space than your big sister's room, but I think that it works. It's cozy and the rug that we put down really made a difference. You don't seem to mind your room and are a big, BIG fan of the lighted carousel. We use that thing a lot more than we did the first time around.

We're not gonna talk about the door. Just suffice it to say that it's about as secure as Fort Knox. Your Daddy assures me of this. And it's much better than the other door that was there previously. Plus... we've got a great alarm system. You can rest easy, baby girl. I know I do.

Love,
Mama

Millie Takes On The World - Three Month Update

2011-05-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
I cannot believe you're three months old!!! Holy cow! This last month has been so crazy in terms of your growth and development of your personality. You are seriously the easiest baby in the history of the world. You only cry when you need something and I cannot tell you how much of a blessing that is to two working parents who already have their hands full with a toddler who, let's face it, runs the house.

In the last month, you have started day care. That first day was absolutely awful. For me, anyway. You didn't seem to mind in the least. Dropping you off at day care is so different than when I dropped off your older sister as an infant. Usually, you're asleep and I either leave you in the car seat or transfer you into the crib. And even if you're awake, you'll just lay in your crib and watch the mobile for a while. Not making a sound. WHO DOES THIS??

You are such a smiler and you love to babble to me. Your go-to noise is something between a growl and a kittens purr... way deep in your throat. And boy do you love when I make the sound back to you! You're also a big fan of the word "goooo". Although, keep in mind that proper spelling is "Gu". But we'll get into that when you're older. So, yea... we love to baby talk to each other. You and I can sit forever and solve the worlds problems... if only someone could translate the babble, the world's afflictions would be gone. No more war. No more tornadoes. No more earthquakes and radioactive material leaking into the atmosphere. No more paying for gasoline through the nose...

It'd be like living at the end of a rainbow. A rainbow with a baby that loves to giggle. One of your teachers at day care told me today that she's never seen a baby your age giggle so much. I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Having two happy girls? Worth every moment of pain and frustration that comes with being a parent.

But, I digress. You are super happy, but you're still not really down with snuggling. In fact, you're not really thrilled with being held that much anymore. Unless you are being held facing out so you can see what's going on. When I put you in your gym, you always turn your head so you can look at the TV. I'm trying to tell myself that it's not because you're an early couch potato and just that you like the lights. But... I'm concerned.

You're quite the mover and shaker these days, as well. You've become quite proficient in the back crawl and if I put you down somewhere and come back a few minutes later, you're usually not where I left you... just a few feet north of it. You also seem like you're soooo close to rolling over. It seems like you're just progressing so fast! My little baby is just growing up so fast!

Last week, you got sick. After just two weeks in day care, you came down with a cough. I don't know if you got it from day care... or from your older sister who has started to kiss you a lot. And, since she's got a cough like every other week... well, it was bound to happen.

But, your cough sounded a lot worse than hers, so we took you in and found out you either had bronchiolitis, or RSV. But since treatment is the same for both diagnosis, we didn't bother with the test. I stayed home with you for that week, and you and I had a wonderful time. You were very snuggly and often took your naps on me. You slept, ate, played and even though you were pretty sick, you never got too irritable or upset at anything. Except for when I suctioned out your brains through your nose. But, really... I would have been the same way. You weren't a big fan of the breathing treatments either, but after four days, you were a lot better. And, bonus! You never had an ear infection so I'm hoping that means you won't have the problems your sister had whenever she got sick.

We're trying to wean you from needing to be swaddled at night. Some nights it works. Other nights, not so much. And I can't wait for you to find your thumb so that you don't need me to pop the binkie in your mouth in the middle of the night. We can still put you down pretty much awake... especially after your night feeding. But sometimes we have to turn on the lighted mobile over the crib. You really like that and, as a results, I really LOVE that.

The last couple of weeks, you've been falling asleep in your car seat on the way home from day care... and sleeping FOREVER. In fact, one night you fell asleep at 5 p.m. and we put you in your car seat in your bedroom and let you sleep. You didn't wake up until midnight! And then you ate and went right back to sleep until 6! And if it happened just a couple of times, I wouldn't feel like a bad parents... but it happens almost every night!

You are not the easiest baby to change... even when you're not hungry. You always pull your legs up as if to say "C'mon, Mommy.... get your game face on!" But when I have to change your diaper and put your pj's on in the middle of the night and you haven't eaten for seven hours or so? It's like nailing jell-o to a tree. Surprisingly, you're also like that when you take a bath. It's not that you mind the water, per se. But your little legs continue to pump up and down and you're trying your darndest to do the back crawl... only three months into your little life and you're attempting to get out of the bath chair.

Sleep-wise, you're doing really well. I can usually count on at least 6 hours, but there are times (like last night) that you'll throw down a 9 hour overnighter. It's pretty much amazing.

You're also still enamored with your older sister... and she with you. I know that when you're able to get around more, it's going to be hard to keep you away from her.

You're such a blessing in our lives, Millie. Every day I thank whatever higher power is out there that brought you into our lives. You have completed our family and I can't believe that just a couple of years ago, I didn't know joy this pure. You and your sister have given that to me and I will always be grateful for that.

Love,
Mama

... It'll Be A Short Drive

2011-05-17T20:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Girls,
This weekend was my birthday. Your dear old Mommy turned a whopping 34-years-old. ANCIENT. But, with the help of a little dye, my hair looks like that of a 20-something, even if the laugh lines around my eyes don't. So I've got that going for me.

Your grandparents came down to visit and got to spend some quality babysitting time with you while Daddy and I went on a hike to Waterfall Canyon. The last time I made that trip was when I was 6 months pregnant with Hazel... and thinking about that now blows my mind! We can't wait to take the two of you up there! It's going to require a lot of patience on our part and a lot of energy on your part. But I see families with 5 or 6 kids making that trip and even the littlest ones seem to be a having a good time, so I believe our visit will be sooner rather than later.

It was a great weekend. I woke up to find these that Hazel and Daddy had picked.

Millie... well, the only thing you can pick right now is your binkie out of your mouth (yea.... you're GOOD), but the flowers were from both of you. Right out of my garden!

Sunday morning, we decided to make a trip to the doctor's office. Hazel had been coughing on and off for a couple of weeks and Millie had started to cough a couple of days prior. So, just to be on the safe side (and live up to my "THAT mother" status at the clinic) we took you both in. The doc thought Hazel had allergies, but I had my suspicions. So, she gave us some Claritin as well as a prescription for an antibiotic and told us to only fill it if the Claritin didn't work. I was fully prepared to fill that prescription and say "Screw the allergy theory!", and was shocked to discover that the Claritin? It worked. And our little ray of sunshine... who has, for the past week or so been a holy living terror and super whiny?

She's baaaccckkkkkk!

Allergies, huh? WHO KNEW? This is just a not-so-gentle reminder to us that when Hazel is whiny and needy and OMG WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP WITH THE CRYING OVER EVERYTHING?... well, that just means that there's something going on with her. Sick. Allergies. Something.

She's not being evil just to be evil. Or "two-ish" as the pediatrician put it.

She's not being evil just to be evil. This will be my mantra.

I may have to put it up as a wall decal somewhere in the house.

Millie, on the other hand... well, she has bronchiolitis. Or RSV. We're not sure. But since the treatment is the same for both, we didn't bother with the test. Doing some reading on bronchiolitis... well, let's just say it's a huge bummer. It's defined as the swelling and mucus buildup in the smallest air passages in the lungs (bronchioles), usually due to a viral infection. AWESOME. Millie had breathing issues when she was born, so I wonder if she is particularly susceptible to it. I'm hoping that we've reached the peak of her coughing.

She's been awfully needy lately... anxiety, I suppose. She has even fallen asleep on both myself and Benny several times in the last few days. I mean, Millie doesn't ever want to snuggle and right now, I'm not really allowed to put her down without her crying. Oh, also... SOMEONE HAS FOUND HER LUNGS. Holy Mother of All That Used To Be Holy In This House.... she's going to give Hazel a run for her money. She could give Steven Tyler a run for his money. As a matter of fact, I challenge Steven Tyler to come visit us and we'll compare. And, hey... if that means that I get to act on my Laminated List of Celebs I Get To Make Out With? SO. BE. IT.

Anyway, this also means that the nights are tough. When she wakes up, we have to suction out her nose, which totally wakes her up. We also have to give her breathing treatments... the same ones we gave Hazel when she was four months old and had RSV. I'm telling you, though... Millie is WAY stronger than Hazel was at this age. And, if possible... more tenacious. She fights the breathing treatments like NOBODY'S BUSINESS. We can't trick her into it like we could with Hazel... which was by standing inches away from the TV and hoping that the big pretty lights would distract her. They don't.

And when she feeds.... well, let's just say that I had already forgotten how sore nipples get when a baby is sick, because they feed like EVERY HOUR. On top of that, it's like she's trying to find whatever comfort she can by clamping down on my poor, unsuspecting nipples. Luckily, Benny has been able to spell me during one of the night shifts and will rock with her for a bit after I feed her so I can get some rest. Guess we get to re-do the sleep training after she feels better.

Poor Millie. The one saving grace during this whole experience is that the Claritin has helped Hazel and when she comes home at night and when she makes up in the morning, she's not demanding. She waits patiently for me to finish feeding Millie or cooking breakfast or dinner or whatever. She even plays by herself without whining or throwing a fit. In short, she's my lifesaver. Millie was my lifesaver when Hazel was acting up... THANK GOD THE TWO OF THEM DON'T WORK TOGETHER TO DRIVE ME BONKERS YET.

Love,
Mama

My Girls

2011-05-05T19:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Girls,

I'm writing this letter to both of you because, quite frankly, if I spend time right now writing two different letters, the house will never get picked up and the laundry will never get done. Also, I hope that this letter will give you some insight into what our world is like... right now... as a family of four. Enjoy.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!!! So much has changed in the last year. Last year, Millie was not even a bun in the oven. And Hazel was just one day away from being weaned from the boob. Last year, we had a gaping hole in the floor, with no plans of fixing it and I was not sure I wanted another baby because... MAN, is this HARD!!!

Fast forward 12 months and our family of three is now a complete family of four and our lives which were in total chaos for the first six months of Hazel's life, are now running like a well-oiled machine, and we can't imagine life without our two little girls.

These days, Hazel, you are a happy (unless you're sick) 18-month-old who likes to jabber on about nothing in particular. And occasionally, you actually throw out a word that Mommy and Daddy recognize. For instance, a couple of weeks ago I took you shopping and you were such a doll during the trip that when we got to the check out line and you pointed at a balloon and said "ball"... well, I caved and spent the $3 on it. And made your day. Daddy then made your day further when he taught you how to hit him on the head with the balloon (it's one that's on a stick). And you started to say "boo", which is Hazel-speak for TOTALLY AWESOME BALLOON THAT I GET TO HIT DADDY ON THE HEAD WITH... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

You also imitate certain words that you hear us say a lot.

Like boogie. We say boogie all the time as we're doing booger removal from your nose. Which actually includes me grabbing your boogers with tweezers, pulling it out and showing it to her while saying "Boogie!" This is the only way you don't throw a fit while we try to tend to the amazing amount of boogers in your nose. You're also experimenting with saying things like "toast", "diaper", "cheese", "cracker", "ball", "two", "baby", "tree", "bird", "woof", "dog" and "dada". Often, when you're asking where Daddy is, you use your modified sign language for him... which is pointing at your head with a look of confusion on her face. You also know the sign for Grandpa and recognizes when I say Grandpa. The other day, you were looking at a book with a tractor in it and I told you that Grandpa drives a tractor. You kept pointing at the tractor and then doing the sign for Grandpa. Wait until I blow your mind when we see a school bus. Wait! Grandpa drives a tractor AND a bus???? I'm not sure you'll be able to comprehend exactly that, but I know you'll make the sign every time you sees one or the other.

You have also discovered the awesome world of Mommy's bathroom. There you get to practice flushing the toilet. And you get to try and grab whatever Mommy has left near the edge of the counter. And when you inevitably snag something (say, foundation, mascara, hairspray) you take off with it. It's like you KNOW that it's the one thing Mommy hasn't used yet that morning and will make a trade of cookies for. At 8 a.m.

Smart little girl. Almost proud of you for manipulating the situation.

Aunt KC also taught you to pick dandylions and there's not one of those weeds that you walk by without picking it and trying to stick it in your ear. Apparently, you also do this at day care, much to the delight of the teachers. I'm absolutely happy with this as I'd like to teach you at a young age to pick weeds, rather than Mommy's tulips. See how well it's going?

You have also fallen in love with mousse. And will come into the bathroom, point at the can and say "moosh" and hold out your hand, expecting the soft, foamy stuff. Luckily, you don't try to eat it, but you sure do love to mush it in your hands and then rub it in your hair like I taught you to.

You're really into her sunglasses these days, too. You insist on them whenever you see me put on my glasses. And you wore them to school today. I can't tell you how hard I laughed as you sat down at the table for breakfast in your sunglasses and jacket on while looking at the other kids as if to say: YOU ONLY WISH YOU COOL ENOUGH TO WEAR SUNGLASSES AT BREAKFAST.

Today they officially moved you down to the 18-24 month old room. I had been told it would be a little while before you moved down... which was heartening to me as I love the ladies in the 12-18 month old room. And it's easier to drop you off as it's right next to Millie's room. And the other room is on the other side of the building, down two flights of stairs and... yea, sometimes you want to do the stairs yourself. And other times you want me to carry you down. Not a problem... if I weren't also carrying Millie's car seat. But, I'm sure you'll have a good time down there with your friends Jaxton, Quincy and Emmy. As long as Jaxton stops kissing on you and giving Daddy a heart attack.

Millie, you continue to be a rock star baby. My goodness are you easy. You love to smile and make faces at me after I feed you, although you're still not a fan of cuddling. That's probably the hardest thing for me.... wanting to cuddle and knowing that my 10-week-old wants nothing of the sort. You just want to look at people. Look them in the eye to see if they''re good people or not. You have no need to look at what's going on behind my back... you want to face the world. What a cool thing! But it's a huge bummer to not to get to snuggle with your baby.

You still like being swaddled and sleeping with your binkie. You've been throwing down some awesome overnighters. Just the other night, you slept from 7:45-4:15! And you've done at least 6 hours in-a-row for the last week or so. This after you hadn't slept more than 3 hours at a time your entire life. It's like all of the sudden you decided she would take it easy on me, since you somehow knew I was going back to work and needed some sleep!

You never cry. Unless you're hungry or wet. And you love to watch your big sister running around. I never have to worry about you because you're is one thing that Hazel rarely was: content. You just enjoys... being. And you have transitioned to day care extremely well. I never would have considered leaving Hazel for Daddy to deal with on his own at night at 2 months. But, with my little Chilly Millie, I have a standing Wednesday night date with my girlfriend Jodi. And Daddy has a standing Thursday night drama - I mean poker - club.

Lately, you have been going to sleep around 8. Which means we have the evening to ourselves. I can't believe it only took a couple of months for that to happen. I mean, it felt like FOREVER while we were going through it... but it wasn't that bad even then!

The one thing you will not tolerate? Taking a bottle from me. It's like you know... Hey! You're the milk lady! GET THIS BOTTLE OUT OF MY FACE AND WHIP 'EM OUT! Daddy and the ladies at day care are the only ones you'll take a bottle from. Luckily, I've been able to keep my milk supply up.

Mostly by drinking a beer every day. Yep. I'm THAT Mommy. At least, that's what I'm hoping is causing the turnaround in milk supply. It's either that or the $70/week prescription that I have to buy. Yep... the big benefit of breastfeeding is that it's free. Not for me, though.

I have to pay.

Awesome.

I can't wait until the day that both of you girls are running around. Your head and neck are so strong already. It won't be long before we can start putting you in the little bumbo seat. And possibly jump-a-roo. I give it another month.

The ladies at day care continue to gush over both of your. It makes me feel better knowing that my daughters... the most important people in my world... are taken care of and loved while I'm at work.

The Bean's first day at "school". Her big sister is excited for her!

I love both of you girls more than you'll ever know. I hope that I'm the Mommy you deserve... and the Mommy that deserves you both.

Love,
Mama

Growing Up (too fast!)

2011-05-01T21:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie Bean,
Well... it was imminent. I knew this day would come. I hoped it wouldn't... I hoped that somehow the space/time continuum would somehow prevent you from growing up... prevent me from having to go back to work and therefore put my little baby in day care.


Daddy took this picture today to show that you're already too long for	the 9 month old PJ's we've got you in.

But, no... I write this to you the night before your life is going to change and I can't help but get teary-eyed. I can't help but notice the big lump in my throat. I can't help but feel like I'm gonna throw up just a little bit.

THIS SUCKS.

I thought that I would be ready for it, as in the last 18 months or so, I've grown up a little bit and one would think I would have more control over my emotions. And having gone through this once before with your sister, I should be able to handle it with a modicum of maturity.

Yea... no. It's not happening.

You're going to "school" tomorrow with your sister. Something that you've kind of been doing the last few weeks. But this time, instead of dropping off Hazel and coming back home with me to nap, eat or play... well, you're going to stay there. In the care of perfect strangers. Strangers to you. Not me. I know these women. I trust these women. And I know... I KNOW... that you won't remember it. And, you'll probably be just fine. But, Mommy won't. And Mommy will remember this day. Just like I remember the day we dropped off your sister the first time . And the anxiety I had for the first few weeks she was there.

Seriously, baby girl... it's gonna be tough on me. And I can only hope that it being tough on me will somehow make it easier on you.

But how can these women possibly take as good of care of you as I do??? Are they going to sit and smile back at you after you finish eating? Are they going to talk jibber-jabber to you and laugh with you? Are you going to have that connection with someone? I feel like those moments the two of us have shared have helped you grow and learn and love. You are truly a happy baby, but is that happiness directed at only Mommy and Daddy? Will you still have that same smile when I pick you up tomorrow after work? Will you still be my Chilly Millie?

And what about sleep??? Are you going to be able to sleep there? We've already discovered that when you don't get enough sleep at night, you are miserable and patently unhappy. And since the only thing I've ever wanted for my children is their happiness, I did whatever it took for you to regain that happy, chill demeanor we love so much.

I'm just so sad, Millie. I was sad when I took Hazel to day care the first day. Cried into my coffee for hours. It just feels like I'm letting someone else raise you... and that seriously BLOWS. I have so enjoyed my time with you these past 10 weeks and I know I'll never get that ever again. Sure, we'll have a week here and a week there when we're on vacation as a family. But it's not the same. You're going to come home from day care every day... completely different. That's how much and how quickly you're changing right now. And I've been there with you during every growth spurt, every extra chin appearance (you have like 4 now)(cuz apparently my breastmilk is made of ice cream and cadbury eggs)(how that happened... well, that's the reason Mommy is going to the gym). I've watched your lashes grow every day. So, while the changes shocked everyone, I was like: Yea... I was there when that third chin appeared. Awesome, huh?

But, now... well, I can't help but feel like I'm now one of the outsiders. Cuz now we don't have our special Cone of Happiness that we've had the last 10 weeks (give or take a bad gas bubble that just won't pass).

So, yea.... tomorrow is gonna suck. I am dreading it. Please know that I love you and am doing what I think is best for you and for our family. And please forgive me for it.

Love,
Mama

PS - The President announced tonight that we killed Osama bin Laden. Thought you would like to know that on the night this was announced, you were sound asleep in your crib, Daddy was sitting on the chair, I was sitting on the couch trying to write you this letter and your sister was asleep in her room.

Sleep Training The Bean... This One's For The Haters

2011-04-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

It continues to amaze me how often peeps will have opinions on how or why you do certain things as a parent. Don't get me wrong, everyone is entitled to their opinion, but thinly veiled judgements... well, I'm not one of those people who take it to heart. Simply because I won't let what others think of my parenting affect my sense of self-worth. What they think about my blog, well that's another thing entirely.

But I must admit that while I don't take these things to heart, I cannot let it go without commenting. Because that's how I roll.

So, without further ado, let us begin:

At Millie's 2-month well child check, I mentioned to the doc that she was only sleeping three hours at a time during the night (and the day). And it was KILLING ME. Because I was feeding her at midnight and three and then six. And since I have to go back to work in a week... seriously, HELP ME! Hazel was throwing down 6 hours in a row when she was 2 months old... and Millie's my easy baby. What should I do???

That's when he told me that she should be sleeping between 4-6 hours at a time overnight and that when she's waking up after 3 hours, it's because it's her natural sleep cycle and if I come in whenever she cries out, well of course she'll take a little nip!! So, he recommended to put her down awake but drowsy at night and let her cry it out and then let her cry it out until it's been at least 4 hours. And here was the kicker: No. Binkie.

WHAT?? But she needs her binkie. I'm sorry, doc, but I have to be an advocate for my daughter here. He just shrugged and said that it's up to me... but to prepare myself for getting up several times a night to put the binkie back in... maybe until she was old enough to find it in the dark and put it back in her mouth.

*Blink**Blink*

So, that night, we put Millie down sans binkie. And, since the doc said that the swaddling was unnecessary and it wasn't the Jimmy Arms that were waking her up (this is after I explained to him what Jimmy Arms were )(and after I questioned if I could trust the expertise of a doctor who had never watched Seinfeld.), I didn't swaddle her. Sort of let her free ball it, if you will.

That first night was HELL. Hell the likes of which I had never experienced before... even with Hazel. I thought that letting Hazel cry it out was awful. And that chick cried ALL THE TIME. You would think we would have been immune to her crying by the time we let we cry it out. (We weren't.) But it turns out that listening to your baby - the baby that NEVER cries - cry it out is a GAZILLION TIMES WORSE.

That first night was reminiscent of every night of Hazel's first month of life. I didn't like myself. I didn't like Benny. The only thing I did like was Hazel's Easter candy. Turns out, I'm a bit of a stress eater. WHO KNEW?

I won't get into all of the distressing details, just suffice to say that she was up at 12:30, 3 and 5. After she wouldn't go down at 3, I gave up and stuck a binkie in her mouth and voila! Blessed, blessed silence!

The next day, I was a zombie... but I think it wore on Millie as well because that chick slept from 9-1... which allowed me to sleep from 10:30-1. All without a binkie. Is it this easy? Was it really just one night of hell? Well, that remains to be seen, but I can report that last night, Millie went to bed at a little before 9 and slept until 3:45. I can totally get behind those kind of numbers. The one concession I did make to her was swaddling her again... that seems to be key for her and I'm totally down with it.

So... here's where I verbalize what bugged me so much that I couldn't sleep that first night before she even woke up.

*Ahem*

There were three pieces of advice my mother gave me when I had Hazel.

1) You should definitely have five or six of these.
2) You know this baby better than anyone else. Don't let anyone tell you how to raise her. You're the mom. YOU KNOW BEST.
3) Always remember, you invited this baby to come live with YOU. You're still in charge. If you're not then this child will end up running the house.

And while the first piece of advice was promptly thrown into the incinerator in my brain, the last two actually weren't too bad.

Listen, I know that people have their opinions. I know that people may think that taking away a binkie is mean... cuz, you know... she had it in the womb and everything.

OH. WAIT.

And I also know that the idea of having a 2-month old cry it out is harsh. And that I'm doing it because I'm starting to back to work and need to be much more rested during the day speaks volumes about the kind of mother I am. And that peeps may think I'm a bit selfish and not willing to put it out there for my baby. I mean, how hard is it to get up three times a night?

Let me say this to that:
First off, yes, I'm doing this for me. But I'm also doing this for her. The studies are out there that prove that the more babies sleep and learn how to be good sleepers at a young age, the better it is for them and their developing brains. And they're more pleasant during the day. Secondly, if I'm a zombie during the day and am grumpy in the morning because I'm lacking in sleep, I'm not a good Mommy. Simple as that. And since I only get to see Hazel a few hours in the morning and evening, I want her to have a happy, fully present Mommy. And, I dunno... maybe I'm just someone that needs more sleep than the average Mommy. That doesn't mean I care any less about my children than the next Mommy. It's because I care about my children that I'm doing this. How many of you can say that when your child was 4 months old, she was sleeping 13-14 hours a night?

Yea.

So there's THAT.

Oh, and also? Guess who slept without a binkie for 7 hours last night? And guess who still was happy to see me this morning? Guess who's not going to remember that back on April 25, Mommy threw away her binkie when she was 8 weeks old?

Word.

Bottom line, while it was hard to listen to this had to be done. I've often thought that a lot of issues that we as parents complain about aren't really our kids issues, but ours. Like me saying that Hazel would never nap in her crib. Please. I look back at it now and realize that I just wasn't comfortable with her napping in her bed and was trying to avoid confrontation with her when she started to cry.

But, when I thought about it long and hard, I remembered my mom's advice: This is my house. I invited these babies to come share it with me. BUT I'M STILL IN CHARGE.

Unless they're teething. Then all bets are off.

The Playhouse!

2011-04-23T13:24:00.000-07:00

With the weather hopefully starting to turn warm soon, Benny and I decided that the girls need more living space. Of course, for Millie that just means adjusting the snuzzler in the car seat. So for now, the new living space is benefiting Hazel.

Benny worked on the house every day that it wasn't raining. Which, in the last two weeks has been exactly two days.

Seriously... it even comes with a sink and a grill! Not to mention the working doorbell. Which is something our house doesn't even have!

The finished product is freakin' adorable and we can't wait for the girls to play in it! It's obvious to me that I'm going to need to get some supplies. Hazel's upset that the sink doesn't have real running water, but I think if maybe I get her some plastic food and dishes, she'll get over it. If not, there's a hose nearby.

We just need to plant some flowers in the pots under the windows. But since someone keeps pulling Mommy's tulips and bringing them to me in a way that makes my heart melt, we may decide to do fake flowers for the time being.

I'm already imagining play date with friends and tea parties with dollies. And possible, maybe if Mommy chills out just a little bit when they get older, sleep outs!

Next up, Daddy's building a sandbox!!

A PSA

2011-04-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are trying to make better decisions diet-wise and perhaps have stumbled upon a, oh, I dunno... Quinoa Chocolate Treat recipe online and decided to try that rather than bake the chocolate cake mix sitting in the pantry (because you're trying to get some extra nutrition with your chocolate addiction). Ahem... LET ME SERVE AS YOUR WARNING.

Exhibit A:

Right about now, you may be saying to yourself: "Self? That's an interesting concept. And judging from the picture, it looks relatively harmless. How bad can it possibly be?"

Enter Jaynee, stage right. My job in this little scenario is to jump on that grenade and explain that the recipe calls for the quinoa to be uncooked. UN. COOKED.

See... for a logical person (i.e.: someone who sleeps more than 4 hours a night), this should have been the first clue. But, since I have two babies under the age of 18 months, it's clear that the logical side of my brain hasn't been engaged in a while and... well, you do the math.

But, I digress. Let me tell you about THIS little treat. Let me take your imagination on a little trip around the mad, mad world of horrific desserts. Imagine taking bird seed, coating it with chocolate, marshmallow and for some unknown reason... peppermint extract. I think that the peppermint is included to take your mind off the fact that you're eating RAW quinoa.

Then imagine that you've sat down after putting down your baby (finally!) and instead of a nice glass of red wine to finish off a hectic day, you decide to nibble on your new little treat while patting yourself on the back for being a little more healthy in your compulsive eating habits.

Can you taste it? Can you feel the raw little pebbles of raw quinoa crunching on your molars? Can you feel the peppermint trying its best to cover up the quinoa but is instead somehow highlighting it?

Yea... whatever you're tasting in your imagination right now tastes like a creamy cheesecake compared to the nastiness I nibbled on tonight. I can't even call it birdseed... because A) I wouldn't feed the wild birds outside my window that crap and B) even if I did, they wouldn't touch it.

Not even the magpies.

And those things eat roadkill.

And I still need a chocolate fix.

The only way my night can be salvaged is if an unsuspecting Benny comes home from Poker Night and sneaks a piece of it before he comes to bed.

That way, I'm not the only one who wants to scrub my tongue with a toilet brush.

The Bean's Two-Month Update

2011-04-21T19:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie Bean,
You are 2 months old! Can you believe that? 2. Months!!!

Your first two months have been pretty damn chill, Mill. There's not a whole lot to complain about with you. You're just a sweetie and never get too bugged about anything.

Millie Bean - 8 Weeks Old

Wait... wait... that's not entirely true. There are a couple things that cause my little bundle of sweetness to cry out in frustration.

But before we get into that, let me state for the record that you tolerate a lot of things. You sleep through your sisters screeches of delight or despair. You don't mind when I accidentally squirt breastmilk in your eye at 4 a.m. You are cool with being in the car seat, the gym or the swing for extended periods of time. You don't mind being out and about in the world, so I actually get to show you off to people rather than cower in the house afraid that something might startle you, causing you to lose your mind. You don't need a bath to calm you down... cuz you're always calm. You sleep well in your crib. In general, you're just a very agreeable baby.

Unless you have a wet diaper. Holy hell, the scream you unleash on this world when your diaper is wet or dirty! You DO NOT TOLERATE A WET DIAPER . And it's interesting... because with your older sister, I was never really able to differentiate her cries. I just always assumed she was crying because she was hungry. Or just trying to make me lose my mind.

But you? Well, you have a definite CHANGE MY DIAPER, MOMMY! cry. It starts out as a whimper.. like you're trying to give us time to change it before shit gets real. And if we don't figure it out in time? Yea.... the whole neighborhood knows that you need a new diaper . But once that diaper is changed? You return to your regularly scheduled awesomeness. Usually you fall asleep but occasionally, you stay awake and grace us with your beautiful smiles.

The other thing that gets your diaper in a bunch? Skin-to-skin contact that causes sweating. You are no down with any kind of sweat on your body. So, I guess that means you're not just a Diaper Diva, you're a Dryness Diva. You apparently must be dry at all time, in all places of your body. And let me tell you... that's pretty difficult to accommodate in baby.

You are only putting together about 4 hours in a row at night. I'm really hoping that we hit the 6 hour mark in the next month or so. I sometimes think that it's because we've got you wrapped up and you get a little warm and makes you break your No Sweating Rule. But I can't NOT wrap you up because your damn arms are still Crazy Arms. I'm hoping that this little neurological issue will clear itself up soon cuz Mommy goes back to work in another week and I need to get some rest at night cuz I can't make up for it during the day anymore.

Speaking of night feedings... yea, you're pretty much a pain in the booty to get back down after the 3:30 feeding. It's been going on for quite some time now and I've given up trying to rock you back down and instead just hold you, kick up my feet and fall asleep. After a while, you fall asleep to. I usually wake back up at 5:30 and put you back in your crib. Then I go to bed and fall asleep until your sister starts squawking around 6:30. Which is also about the time you start to regain conciousness. Awesome.

So far, the mornings with you and your sister have been fine. Then again, I haven't been showering and trying to get ready for work while keeping the two of you happy.

You have really started to smile in the last couple of weeks. After every feeding, you look up at me and smile and then we spend a few minutes smiling and laughing at each other. I can't even begin to express how much I'm gonna miss that when I have to start back to work full-time and you start day care. I'm worried that the ladies at day care (whom I adore) won't take the time to encourage you to keep smiling like that. I'll have to give them a heads up.

You'll note the cute onesie... custom made for you by my friend Erica who has been a great example to me of everything I could be doing crafty. She's encouraged me so much that I've actually considered going to the local craft shop and not have a panic attack. This... this is progress for your Mommy. Hopefully by the time you're old enough to read this, you'll be able to think to yourself: Really? Mommy was once afraid of arts and crafts? But she did a self-portrait out of nothing but elbow macaroni and food coloring the other day and it's AWESOME!

Right now, you're sound asleep in your swing. You love that swing. I love that swing. That swing is the Baby Whisperer. But, I think you have a wet diaper as you're starting to wake up. Damn those wet diapers!

Love,
Mama

Pardon The Rant, But...

2011-04-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

Mommy needs a mental break.

I just don't understand how the house can get messy so quickly. After I've spent the day cleaning it and making it somewhat livable again. Then everyone comes home and 30 seconds later, the protein powder is in the living room, the tupperware is in the bathroom, the banana is in the dishwasher and the mousse is in the kitchen... all thanks to a curious and "helpful" toddler. Then there are the pee-pee diapers that we've changed and are folded up, yet we just haven't quite gotten to throwing away (yea... we're gross. deal with it.) And the pile of shoes at the front door? I wanna scream.

I think the biggest issue is that the living room is so damn cluttered with kid stuff. At all times. Stuff that you can't put away. Like the swing for Millie. The gym for Millie. The art table for Hazel. Hazel's rocking chair. All of Hazel's toys that are stored in the bottom of our bookcases... it just looks cluttered. I love it... because it's a sign that a family lives here. But... sometimes it feels clastrophobic.

And, when you add even one more item to the general living area? Chaos.

I had to leave Millie with Benny tonight just so I could go to the local coffee shop to blog and not feel anxiety about the clutter and mess that I need to clean up before I can relax. And I realize that I'm just as much to blame about this. Good grief... if you people could see the bedroom . The piles and piles of laundry that have been done and folded... but I just haven't managed to get them on hangers or in drawers. Because I feel like ALL I'm doing is cleaning and picking up the house and doing laundry and cooking... so, you know what? SCREW the bedroom. I just go in there to sleep, so I can close the door on it and pretend that it doesn't exist. At least until bedtime. And then I just push things to the side to create a path to and from my side of the bed so that when Millie's 3:30 a.m. feeding comes, I don't trip over a pair of my maternity underwear that I want to pretend don't still fit me.

I'm worried that Hazel is going to see this behavior and think that it's acceptable and then we're gonna have a problem down the line. But... at this point in my life as a Mommy? SCREW IT.

So, here I sit in the coffee shop listening to a couple on a blind date talking about their DUI's and how she got hooked on heroine in high school, while he talks about how great his cat is. No joke. I look forward to their next smoke break just so I can focus on the quiet.

Because that's one thing that's missing in my life right now.

Quiet.

18 Months. WHAT?

2011-04-18T20:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Hazel,
It's been a rough couple of weeks for you. But you have emerged relatively unscathed and looking more like the little angel that you are.

You (and everyone else in day care) had a runny nose for a couple of weeks. But it didn't bother you and you went on your merry way. In fact, Daddy "taught" you how to blow your nose. Somewhat. We hold the tissue to your nose and say: "What sound does a moose make?' And then you snort into the tissue. Meanwhile, we use this distraction to wipe your nose. It seemed to be working well and then... well, then the runny nose started to really get bad. We're talking green boogers and blood bad. And you started to get SUPER fussy. But, we figured that maybe you were teething again... because really, have you stopped teething in the last year? Nope. So, we'd give you some Tylenol and just deal with your fussiness.

Then one day, I got a call from day care telling me you had a fever. Weird. But, often when you have a fever at day care, I bring you home and check and it's a full degree less than what it was at day care and not a problem. So, I wasn't too worried. Until I picked you up and brought you home. By the time we got home, your temp had gone from 100 at day care to 102. I quickly gave you some Tylenol and put you to bed. Because Mommy's an idiot that way.

You woke back up and your temp was normal so I thought we were out of the woods. Until 2 hours later and your temp was back up to 102. Blah. By then, it was too late to get you to the doctor so we figured we'd see if you miraculously recovered overnight. But, you woke up at midnight needing another dose and we knew it was a big deal.

The next day, we took you to the doc to find out that you had a bacterial sinus infection that absolutely needed treatment. Yep. Your mother... is completely inept with you.

Anyway, after just the first two doses of antibiotic, your nose was starting to clear up... but you were even more fussy than before. We had started to give you children's Motrin because it lasted longer than the Tylenol because, for some stupid reason, we thought that you were still teething.

And still... you continued to fuss. And it was the kind of "fuss" that echoed those first few weeks of your life where I wanted to rip off my ears and smash my head through the front door. You remember those days, don't you? When you were pure evil? Yea... that's pretty much where we were with you last weekend.

Finally, after day two of the constant whining... the constant, unending, unmerciful whining that had both Mommy and Daddy at the end of our ropes... your Daddy went to change your pj's (yes... we left you in pj's until noon because we knew you would freak out if we dared change you) and noticed a rash that covered your entire torso.

Yea... that couldn't have been comfortable. We immediately jumped into action (two days too late, but waddayagonnado?) and put some hydrocortisone on it and voila! Within 15 minutes, our CrankyPants had almost returned to her regularly scheduled programming. Turns out, someone's allergic to ibuprofen. You know... the same stuff we'd been shoving down your gullet for two days because we thought your fussiness was due to teething, when really it was due to THE IBUPROFEN.

Seriously. Parents. Of. The. Year.

What really sucked about the whole situation was that Grandma and Grandpa Nadolski were in town to visit and... yea, we didn't get to show off your angel-like qualities that we'd been telling everyone about. Oh well... there's always San Diego.

In other news, you now have more toys at your disposal than you know what to do with. And that Mommy keeps tripping over. But, do you know what you want to play with? The only thing that holds your attention for more than 15 seconds? Markers. Specifically, the pink marker. More specifically, the pink marker's cap that you want to take on and off and on and off and on and off... and then when you put it on and can't get it off you scream and bring it to me to take off... so that you can put it back on again.

Yep.

Since the episode with the ibuprofen, you have been an angel. I mean... seriously. An ANGEL. You are helpful around the house. You like to help me empty the new dishwasher (which I'm already planning on reminding you of when you're 15). Although, today you climbed on to the new dishwashers new door. And Mommy's brain almost exploded. Did I mention that it's NEW?

But, climbing is your thing these days. As is dancing. Not that dancing hasn't ALWAYS been your thing, but this dancing is more joyful and happy than before. Like you're finally getting how amazing it is to move your body and think that everyone else in the world is stupid for not partaking in this magic.

You've started to talk a little more. The other day, you blew my mind when I gave you some cottage cheese and you said "Thank You." You. Said. THANK YOU. While also making the sign for it. I couldn't believe it! Granted, the majority of it is jibber-jabber... and you are telling some amazing stories that I can't wait to hear about when you actually start talking... but you are picking up on and imitating words that we say. Shoes. Cheese. And... well, deuce.

Yep. It's possible that Mommy and Daddy taught you to say "deuce" when you potty #2. This happened completely innocently. You've taken to using the sign for potty whenever you... go. We've heard that this means we should start potty training you... but honestly, that sounds HARD. So, we're ignoring that advice for now. Anyway, one day you made the sign and we asked if you went #1 or #2. And I think that you like the sound of #2... and tried to repeat it. But it came out "deuce". And when we checked... YEP! DEUCE!

Babe! Come quick! Our daughter is freaking brilliant!!!! Call your parents!!!

Ah... the miracle of parenthood. Feeling pride that your daughter accidentally told you she deuced while you clean up said deuce. We may have taken this to the extreme.

(Who? US?)

I cannot believe how much you've grown in the past couple of months. Physically, mentally, emotionally... you're not a baby anymore. Sometimes I find it hard to classify you as a toddler. It seems like you grow every day and you're my little girl now. And that just breaks my heart. I can't believe how fast it's gone. And I still look back (and feel guilty) about those first few months where I was wishing you'd get just a little bit older... faster... so I wouldn't have to carry you everywhere. Or grind up your food. Or have to rock you down for an hour before you would fall asleep.

Now? Well, the only time you want me to carry you anywhere is when I'm carrying the car seat. Which is usually up the stairs at day care. You usually love to tackle the stairs. But, it's like you're trying to prove a point. And food? Forget about it. You will eat just about anything. At any time of day. And are constantly asking for more? more? more? I mean, it's cute and I adore hearing your voice... it just makes me think about the time when you were completely and totally dependent on me and couldn't just go to the pantry and pull out a box of rice and spill it on the floor while looking for crackers. And forget about me rocking you to sleep at night. That ship has sailed. I get just enough time to tell you I love you and get a kiss from you before you lean back as if to say: Alright! Bedtime, Mommy!

I do realize that this is not something I should complain about. But... you know. I miss it.

You are a great big sister to Millie. And boy, is she enthralled with you. You like to help me feed her when she's taking a bottle. And when I feed her in the morning, you don't get upset anymore and just play by yourself until we're done. You also like to give her kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. And sneezes. Lots and lots of sneezes.

I love you so much, Hazel. I can't wait until this stupid spring weather clears up so we can take you to the zoo and show you all the animals. You're old enough that I think you'll actually enjoy it. Of course, that means either Mommy or Daddy is going to wear themselves out chasing after you. You like to get out and run, that's for sure. Prior to having kids, I openly judged those parents who had their kids on leashes. I mean, how hard can it POSSIBLY BE to keep an eye on your 18 month old and keep them close to you?

Turns out? REALLY. FREAKIN'. HARD.

But, I still can't put a leash on you. Not that there haven't been days I've seriously considered it. And that's just for in our house. But, I've decided that this is part of parenting. And this is what we chose. And that this, too, shall pass. Hopefully before you manage to sneak into the ostrich pen.

Love,
Mama

Time For A Change

2011-04-05T20:39:00.000-07:00

One of my goals for this maternity leave, you know, besides the TRY NOT TO LOSE MY SHIT WITH THIS BABY LIKE I DID WITH THE LAST ONE, was to go through our external hard drive that has all (read: a gazillon) of our pictures that we've taken in the last few years. Because once we invested in a digital camera, we stopped developing the pictures that we took and just saving them. That, of course, means that there are few hard copies of photos. And honestly, I would like to have those "old fashioned" photo albums hanging around the house. It just seems more tangible than pulling them up on the computer. It's been my dream to go through these photos and pick out the best and have them developed for an album. However... HOLY SUGAR BALLS. There are so many photos that I'm completely overwhelmed. Just looking through them was exhausting. I don't know where to begin.

Besides the photo albums, I'd also like to have some pictures of sweet moments we've captured of our new family blown up and framed for the wall in our kitchen. So, as I was looking for those pictures and getting a little teary-eyed at what the last 18 months have brought to my life... I started noticing something that, honestly, shouldn't have taken me this long to really notice.

To really understand.

TO REALLY BE MORTIFIED BY.

There's nothing quite like realizing you're FAT AS HELL and it's been captured on film for posterity.

I mean, I knew that I was big... I knew that the baby fat wasn't going to come off as fast with the second baby... I knew that I was really taking advantage of the "I'm eating for two" argument while pregnant... I knew that I was eating way too much junk food before, during and after the pregnancy.

What I don't know, really... is why. I don't know why I didn't notice it. I don't know why I thought that if I just got my hair colored, or new makeup, or a new pair of shoes, then I would look good. I don't know why I excused my lack of fitness and my excess of fat by assuring myself that because I am tall, I could TOTALLY pull it off.

Because I can't. And even if I could... is that really okay? Is that what my life should be? Faking it?

So, the pictures I found today were understandably distressing. Especially when I also saw pictures from when I was training for triathlons and you could bounce a quarter off my butt. (True story). Now... well, that quarter would probably get lost in a fat roll. (Also, sadly, a true story). So, anyway, while the camera adds 10 pounds, it certainly doesn't lie. Even I, the Queen of Denial, couldn't overlook the simple fact that I am fat. F. A. T.

I didn't know the fat lady in the photos with my husband and daughters. And it hit me right then... besides the fact that I have seriously abused my body for the last two years in which I've eaten my body weight in chocolate, I don't want my daughters to know me as a fat Mommy. I don't want my husband to be married to the fat chick. I want to be that Mom that runs and plays with her kids and one who sets a good example for her daughters for body image and self-confidence. I want to be the skinny one between me and Benny. I don't want to be the mom with the second and third chins and the serious spare tire in front. And the thing is, I KNOW I'm not that person. But it took looking at those photos to snap me out of my coma.

So, it's do or die time. I am meeting with a personal trainer tomorrow morning. He's pretty hard core and I know I'll see results. It's going to hurt. Physically, emotionally and mentally. And that's not even factoring in my pride. See, this trainer knew me when I was a college athlete. So, he knows A) What my body used to look like and B) What I'm capable of. It's going to be humiliating to have to fully admit just how far the mighty have fallen. Please, God... don't let him take measurements. I don't EVEN want to know.

I'm excited for the journey, though. I know that it's going to make me a better Mommy, wife and friend. And when things get rough and I consider bagging a workout, I'm going to pull up those damn photos. In fact, I may just put them up on the fridge right now as a reminder.

I'm all in. It. Is. So. Oneth. I will be updating you on my progress. And my aches and pains. There will be laughter. There will be tears. THERE WILL BE BLOOD.

It's either spend the money, sweat, blood and tears on getting back to where I should be. Or it's spend the money on a new, bigger wardrobe and have years of feeling sorry for myself and knowing that I'm better than this. I've got big plans for myself.

And for my family.

And my future photos.

Unnecessary Therapeutic Writing

2011-04-04T21:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
When you're older and reading about your early days, you may notice that I haven't written as many stories about you as I did your sister's first few months of life. Please don't take this personally. Honestly... it's a good thing. With your sister, I was so ill-prepared for parenthood... and she was so much work... that I needed an outlet for my frustration and shortcomings. Looking back on my maternity leave with her, I still remember specific days that I wrote about and how I thought at the time that I shouldn't have been allowed to procreate... that I was a terrible mother and this whole idea of starting a family was a BAD idea and that I was destined for failure as a mother.

Never underestimate the power of therapeutic writing. It's part of the reason we decided to have you!

But, to be fair, I suppose I should talk a little bit about specific days with you. Or rather, what a typical day is with you. I can't really write about major freakouts you have... because you never freak out for more than 15 seconds. And even that is just a little crying. And is usually pacified with a binky or a boob. One of the most amazing differences between you and your sister is that you don't need to eat every hour on the hour. You are pretty much in a 3-3.5 hour routine. Occasionally, you'll feed every 2.5 hours, but that's rare. And you've never been a dive bomber when I hold you, even if you just ate. Which is one of the reasons we call you Chilly Millie.

So, a typical day. You eat, you sleep, you poop, you eat some more, you do some tummy time, you play in your gym (not a big fan, btw) you sleep, you eat... you repeat. You do like the swing... thank goodness. You just started to enjoy the swing this week. I was worried you weren't going to take to it, but wow! I can put you in the swing wide awake and walk away. And when I come back 5 minutes later, you're sound asleep. It's pretty incredible.

When you're not sleeping, you are so aware of the world around you. You love to look at me and it does my heart good when you calm down when you see me. Yes.. you are very aware who Mama is. Your neck is SO strong already. Today, you practiced standing on my lap. At 6 weeks! You just stood there looking at me with such curiosity.

Your social smiles are becoming more common. And you do a lot of cooing. You've never been a big "coo-er" per se. You've just been a really quiet baby. I swear, sometimes I forget that you're just there in the swing. Even when you're wide awake.

Lately, you've only been waking up once per night. Which is pretty awesome. I feed you at about 10 and you'll wake up about 2-ish and then again at 6-ish. However, you really fight going back to sleep after that first feeding. The last couple of nights, I've had to call in Daddy after you've fought me for 90 minutes and I need to get some rest for your NEXT feeding!

You are sleeping in your crib really well. It's amazing to me how completely freaked out I was with Hazel and her crib. I had her sleep in the Pack-N-Play for the first three months of life. With you? Well.... it just seemed right that you get in your crib after the first month.

I love sleeping with you on me during the middle of the day. There's nothing quite like the peace of a baby sleeping on you and I'm trying to relish these moments as I know that they won't last. You haven't been so much a snuggler as your sister was. You fight sleeping on our shoulders. Part of this may be because you absolutely HATE sweating and if any part of your skin (usually your neck) touches any part of my skin (my neck or crook of my arm)... well, that's pretty much the only time Chilly Millie gets fussy-wussy.

That's all the news that is news these days. You got to meet Grandma and Grandpa Nadolski this weekend... and Aunt Helen, Uncle Bart and your cousins Matthew and Andrew. They were sure enamored with you and your big sister.

Also... a note about the so far lack of pictures. Yea... so when we had Hazel, we borrowed Daddy's work camera. And because we were new parents that had no idea what else to do with ourselves... and had nothing else to do but snap pictures... well, there were a lot of pictures of her. We also had our camera that we took a lot of pictures with. Flash forward to your birth and Daddy couldn't get the nice SLR camera from the office, we had misplaced our camera and the other work camera that Daddy brought home from work to take tons of pictures of you with... well, Daddy has to take it back to work EVERY DAY. So all those cute pictures I want to take of you during the day when you're awake and all sorts of cut? I only have my camera phone to take them with and half the time IT doesn't work. So, while I continue the mad search for our old camera (it could be anywhere at this point), I think I'm going to have to ask Aunt KC if I can borrow her camera because the lack of pics of you is getting a bit ridiculous. In the good news department, I pulled the trigger and finally bought a Flip video camera so that we can document our growing family.

Speaking of growing... you had a bit of a spurt this weekend. Seriously, baby girl... you fit in your newborn clothes on Friday. But not on Saturday. And you ate like a horse. Enough so that my boobs (that's right, boobs) started to hurt again. I finally had gotten them used to the pain to where it was no big deal... AND THEN YOU HAVE A GROWTH SPURT. Damn!

That's all for now. Your Daddy is passed out on the couch... he missed the entire NCAA Championship game. You are asleep in your crib... fingers crossed you stay there until at least 1:30ish. And Hazel has been asleep since 7. The kitchen is clean. How I Met Your Mother is on. I had a nap this afternoon with you, so I'm not completely exhausted. But, it's still time for bed.

Love,
Mama

A Day In The Life...

2011-03-31T12:45:00.000-07:00

"Are you sure it's okay if I go to work?"

"Yes, babe. Millions of stay-at-home Mom's around the world stay home with sick kids every day."

"Yea... I know. But you don't want to be a Stay-At-Homer."

"I think I can handle it just this once."

"But I feel like I'm not doing my part."

"It's fine, babe. Don't you think I can handle it?"

"I know you can handle it. I just feel bad."

"Why?"

"Because I love my job. And I feel like I'm leaving you at home with sick kids to go work on a hobby or something."

"Would you feel better if you hated your job?"

*Blink. Blink*

I think Benny's suffering from Acute Too-Happy-Itis.

One Month Update

2011-03-30T11:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie,
One month old. Holy balls. That's right. Balls. That may just be the fastest month in the history of maternity leaves. There were so many things I planned to do the first month of my leave... and since you've been such an angel, I was pretty sure I would accomplish my goals. Instead... well, let's just say that you and I are getting A LOT of rest. Which means that Mommy is still in her PJ's at 2 p.m. because the only place you will sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time, is directly on top of me. Luckily, I am okay with this because when you're sleeping that means you're NOT throwing up on me. And, I appear to have scheduled maternity leave during several Law & Order SVU marathons. So, you know... I've got that going for me.

We have thus far continued to avoid the "Purple Crying" that we experienced with your sister. In fact, the only time you get even remotely fussy is when you have to push a poopy, or you need to burp. And when you burp, let me tell you... you make Daddy proud. We're talking adult-sized burps. And then you immediately relax and fall asleep. This is, of course, after you've thrown up all over Mommy. Which you usually do twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night.

Ah, sleep... you're a big fan. Which in turn makes me a big fan of you. But if we could only get you to sleep by yourself. In your crib. For more than 15 minutes at a time. We've decided that it's time for you to move into your own room, so that Daddy could move back into our bedroom. He's a light sleeper so having you in the room for the first month was pretty rough on him... and
he moved downstairs. But, we think you're ready for the nursery. However, the first couple of nights haven't gone that great.

The last couple of weeks, I've noticed that you've got a case of the Jimmy Arms. You can be perfectly sound asleep when all of the sudden, your arms jerk up, freak you out and wake you up. In a word, it SUCKS. Because then Mommy has to put down whatever she's doing (or, you know.... wake up) and calm you back down. However, I've started wrapping you up and that seems to have helped the Jimmy Arms somewhat.

You've also started a bit of fussiness. It's nothing to write home about... I only mention it lest you think that you NEVER cried. But I think that for the most part, you cry because your gut hurts from a gas bubble or you're trying to push a poopy. Once one of those happens, you usually calm down. You also calm down if I let you fall asleep on me. That seems to be the go-to move right now.

You also like to look at the flower stickers on the wall of the changing table while we work on your diaper. I've even caught you smiling at them a couple of times.

You are so aware of the world around you, and it doesn't seem to upset you at all. You are all about eye contact and you and I spend hours looking at each other. What you don't like to do is be rocked down by me holding you on my shoulder... I think this is because you can't look at me and that bothers you.

I worry that because you're so chill and easy, we aren't as determined to get you into a routine and get you sleeping better as we were with your sister. It once again amazes me how different the two of you are already... and how that means we have to parent you different. And how that means I'm constantly asking myself if I'm doing it right because while we had NO clue what we were doing with Hazel, whatever we did actually ended up working. So, is doing things differently with you going to screw things up? Who knows??

Just know that we love you and we promise to always try to do what's best for you.

Love,
Mama

The Differences

2011-03-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

I've decided that not all of the posts on this blog are going to be letters. Because there's simply so many other things going on in our lives that need to be documented and talked about for therapeutic reasons... and much of it is not appropriate to write in a letter to a baby. Even though the babies will be reading this when they're not babies... it just seems wrong somehow.

So, without further ado...

Four weeks into life with Amelia and things are going so. much. better. than they did with Hazel. I don't know if Hazel was a particularly difficult baby, or we were just that inept. I suspect it's a healthy dose of both. Benny and I were used to a life of quiet in our house. We were used to sleeping through the night and if we did happen to wake up in the middle of the night, it wasn't anything a little Nyquil or Tylenol PM couldn't fix.

But you're not allowed to give that to babies, so when Hazel was waking up every 30 minutes (or so it seemed) at night... well, we were understandably perplexed. Added to the wake ups was the fact that Benny was struggling with pneumonia so he wasn't nearly as patient and wasn't enjoying fatherhood so much. He obviously needed to get some sleep, so a lot of the care taking at night fell on me. Which is fine... but man, was it frustrating. Then when Hazel went through her "Purple Crying" phase, where she would scream every night from 4-10 p.m.... well, that just about did me in. We actually thought that it would never get better. That even when she was 18 years old, she'd STILL BE CRYING. She's almost 18 months now, and sometimes it feels as though we're right... toddlers are FUN.

Anyway, an experience like that changes you. Forever. And yet... we still decided to have another one. We figured that we'd just be miserable for the next four months and then try to recover from it. Hopefully, without use of medical substances. Or illegal ones.

But, Millie is drastically different from Hazel so far. We call her Chilly Millie. She is pretty relaxed and I can even put her in her bouncy seat or the swing, wide awake, and take a shower. And not just a quick shower... a legitimate shower. I always get out of the shower fully expecting a screaming fit in the living room... but it's always quiet and sometimes when I check on her she'll be snoozing. Other times she'll be wide awake, just looking around. I remember taking showers while Hazel was screaming so loudly I could hear it while showering. Those were also the times I was crying in the shower.

Speaking of the swing, Hazel loved the swing. Would spend hours in it rocking. We would have paid $1,000 for that thing. Millie? Could take it or leave it. She's okay with it if she's not actually swinging. I wonder if she's got Benny's motion sickness issues. She does sleep in the swing at night right now because... awesomeness of awesomeness, guess who got sick at 13 days old and has to sleep sitting up for the drainage? Yea. That's been fun.

Millie is a fan of the car seat... where Hazel was unequivocally NOT. I don't remember in the first 2 months if we were ever able to put Hazel in the car seat without her screaming and crying. Millie? No big gig. It's almost TOO easy.

I don't know... maybe it's that I'm more patient with Millie because I know that it actually does get better. Maybe I'm trying to do penance for how terrible I was with Hazel... how completely impatient and inadequate I was with her... how I actually thought that she should be able to get her shit together and let her cry it out at FOUR. WEEKS. OLD!!! Seriously... poor, poor Hazel.

So, I guess that there are differences between the two girls so far, yes. But really... I think the difference is how Mommy and Daddy handle things. Hazel... she taught me about babies. About having babies. And living with babies. About letting go of my former life because my life is now her. It was hard for me to grasp that concept when she was screaming 6 hours a night. I kept remembering how awesome my former life was. I was afraid I wasn't going to adjust or appreciate this new life. I was afraid I wasn't going to bond with her. I was afraid that I could never be the mother she deserved and that surely, someone else would do better at raising her. Millie... well, Millie is teaching me that I have learned from my mistakes and that I may just deserve this title of "Mommy".

Millie's New World - Three Weeks Old

2011-03-13T20:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Millie Bean,
Three weeks in... and Mommy still hasn't lost her mind.

Well, maybe just the once that required your Daddy coming home early from Poker Night after I had repeatedly told him to go... that I'd be FINE. But, I've been sick and you just WOULDN'T go to sleep.

Okay, fine... maybe that happened twice. Anyway, I don't know how it's possible that I forgot just how much the first few weeks of having a newborn sucked sleep-wise, but I apparently did.

The good news? You are one chill baby. The only time you ever cry is when you're hungry or have a gas bubble or need to blow out your diaper. I'm really hoping that you don't start the phase that your older sister went through where you cry from 4 p.m. to 10 p.m. every day for a month. That really sucked and caused Daddy and I psychological problems for a while!

Right now, you're battling a head cold. Which.. yes, I gave you. Sorry about that. Even sorrier that the way we have to manage your cold is to suction out your nose. However, you don't seem to hate it as much as Hazel did. See? CHILL. We also have to have you sleeping in the bouncy chair to help with drainage. I took you to the doctor last week for your two-week well-child checkup and the doc checked to make sure you didn't have RSV or strep. For the strep test, they had to draw veinous blood. Yea... that was NOT fun. Luckily though, everything came back negative and you were diagnosed with the common rhinovirus. Blah. During the checkup, the doc heard a slight heart murmur, which had not been there while you were still in uetero and right after you were born. We are taking you back to the doctor next week to make sure it's not getting louder/stronger. I hope it's nothing too serious... I don't have a bad feeling about it like I did with everything with your older sister. I guess that I've actually grown up in terms of motherhood and don't freak out about everything. For the love... Hazel fell off the porch head first yesterday and my head didn't explode!!!

You still sleep a lot... but the most you've been able to put together at night is about 4 hours. I can't wait until we hit the 6 hour mark. You're sleeping in our room with us... next to me in the Pack-N-Play with the bouncer in it. Daddy has taken to sleeping downstairs so that he can get some good rest at night so he can deal with your older sister in the mornings. That seems to be working well... but it really stinks for me as I miss him.

We've started to take you outside in the Bjorn or stroller... which is heaven for a mother on maternity leave who has been stuck in the house for a few weeks. You don't seem to mind too much... usually just fall asleep. Although during a walk along the river this weekend, you got a little cold and threw as big of a fit as you've ever had. Once we got you back in the car where it was warm, you calmed right down and fell asleep.

Speaking of sleep.. you do seem to take after your sister in that any and all naps shall be taken either on Mommy or Daddy, in the bouncy chair or maybe (sometimes) in the swing. You're not as big of a fan of the swing as your sister... but I think that will change. Hopefully.

You are such a little bean. Your newborn clothes completely swamp you... and we've just barely graduated you from premie and newborn diapers to Stage 1 diapers. And we only did that because you had two blowouts in the newborn diapers yesterday. Honestly, I don't have many newborn clothes for you since your sister was pretty much in 3 month clothes the day she was born.

We're still having issues with nursing with you. You have a problem staying latched on so I am still having to use the nipple shield. Which helps with the nipple soreness but is such a pain in the butt to get situated in the middle of the night.

Speaking of the middle of the night... wanna know how you roll these days? Sleep, wake, feed, blowout your diaper, feed again, get the hiccups FOREVER and possibly feed again before you finally go back to sleep. You might possibly be the worlds slowest feeder, baby girl. I don't know if you're just really hungry, or you get exhausted from feeding as you're not efficient yet... but you feed forever and then you fall asleep.... and then 30 minutes later you want to feed again. Tonight, for example, I started feeding you at 7 p.m.. And finally cut you off at 8:20 when I realized that yes... you had, in fact, been feeding for almost 90 minutes. I'm sorry... but by 3 weeks, you should be getting a leetle bit better at this feeding thing.

I think I'm already having supply issues... either that or you just cannot be kept satisfied. Which is why we have to supplement you with formula. Which I hate, but it's the only thing we can do to keep you full. And help you gain some much needed weight.

Your sister is finally warming up to you and insists on holding you every morning when she sees you. We don't let her yet... but we do let her snuzzle you. And this weekend when we took our first drive as a family of four, she reached down from her car seat and held your hand the entire way. It was so sweet. I can't wait for the two of you to be able to play together. I hope you become best of friends that will always be there for each other.

But, for now... I'll enjoy the fact that you're not fighting over toys and you much prefer to nap instead of pulling out all of the pots and pans while I'm cooking. I couldn't handle two of you doing it at the same time.

Love,
Mama

Dancing Queen

2011-03-13T12:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Hazel,
It's been a crazy few weeks around here, and I thought I should update you on everything.

We brought your sister home from the hospital about 3 weeks ago. You weren't quite sure what to make of her. And you were teething. AND had a cold. So, to say that you were unhappy and acted out would be putting it mildly. It was a frustrating first week in the house. One which culminated with your Daddy kicking a few doors and having to regain his composure by taking a hot shower while drinking a beer.

Yep. The first week as a family of four and Millie wasn't the challenge. YOU were. Holy goodness, baby girl. Were you a terror!!! There was so much crying going on in the house that it reminded me of when you were a newborn. But it wasn't Millie crying. It was you. You wanted to be held ALL THE TIME. But you were very specific as to who you wanted to hold you. Yep... you turned into a bit of a Daddy's Girl. Which is great, but put a lot of pressure on Daddy. A few weeks later and you're still all about Daddy. But you seem to be okay with me holding you or reading you stories. So that's good.

It took just that first week for you to adjust... thank goodness. Since then, you've become very curious about our new addition and want to hold her. In fact, when we come out of the bedroom in the morning, you run up to me with your arms outstretched as if to say: My turn to hold Millie? Since your little sister is still a teeny, tiny thing, we don't let you hold her yet. But we do let you snuggle with her. Which you do first thing in the morning by putting your head next to hers, and at night right before bedtime. It's seriously the cutest thing and it melts my heart every time.

But, let's talk about everything else about you that's happened this month.

* You Can Dance!: You STILL lurve to dance. In fact, sometimes a fun jingle will come on during a commercial and I'll look over at you and you're just shaking your booty with a huge smile on your face. HILARIOUS. You've also learned some of the movements for the Hokey-Pokey and we sing it to you every once in a while before you go to bed. You get so excited when we start and the joy that lights up your face... wow, I wish I could bottle it!

* Baby Signing Time: When things are hectic in the mornings, we've taken to turning on the Baby Signing Time video to distract you from tearing up the house while we try to feed Millie and fix your breakfast. It kind of feels like cheating, but it's worked really well for us. Plus, you've gotten really good at signing certain things. Like "cracker", "water", "milk", "eat", "cereal" and the newest one "please". But all of this signing means that you're not really in a hurry to talk or communicate verbally... other than, you know, the standby whining.

* Using Your Words: While you're not talking a whole lot, you are occasionally throwing out some words that get us super excited. We'll ask you if you want to go to school and you'll say: "Yea" and head to the door. You've said other words like water, Momma, ball and nose. Just not consistently. What you do like to do consistently is make animal noises like Daddy. So far, you're a big fan of monkey sounds, but you like to try to do an elephant. Which is impressive because not even Mommy can replicate the elephant noise Daddy has made so popular around here. You can also make a buzzing sound like a bee... which I'm proud to claim I was able to teach you.

* Miss Independent: You neither want nor need to hold our hands while you're walking. And if we do the unthinkable and actually pick you up so you don't get hit by a car in the parking lot...well, it just might be the end of the world.

* Hitting: So... guess who has started to hit when she gets upset? And when she's playing? Yea... I'm kind of over THAT.

* Rough Housing: Also, guess who's a big fan of rough housing every night with Daddy??

* Diaper Duty: You are so helpful these days. (When you feel like it, that is!) After we change your diaper, you will take it and throw it in the garbage for us. You also will find Mommy's phone and bring it to her... which is much better than what you USED to do... scream when Mommy took it away from you because you were somehow purchasing apps. You also have a habit of finding THEEEE MOST OBSCURE items in the MOST obscure places (a piece of an orange peel underneath the couch) and bring it to me for inspection. I guess that's better than when you would find said item and immediately put it in your mouth.

* Cabin Fever: Since it's March now and the sun is actually out some times, you insist on going outside. And you NEVER want to come in. It's days like that that remind me of how much open space I had available to me growing up. I mean, sure... it meant that every Saturday was spent doing yard work ALL. DAY. LONG. But, it also meant that my sisters and I had a ton of space to be a kid in. Including the stream behind the house where we would spend hours making mudpies. It saddens me that we don't have that for you and that our backyard isn't exactly a kiddie playground paradise. Yet. But, we're hoping to work on it for you and your sister this summer so that you have a fun, safe place to play that doesn't require a hike to the nearest park.

* Organic Finger Painting: The whole hands down your diaper phase has morphed into a new phase... on in which you poop your pants and then wipe the poop in your hair, on your sheets and anywhere else you can think of. Short of putting you in a onesie at all times, I'm not sure how to fix this problem. Other than to teach you that it's ICKY.

* Wake Up: Remember when I used to brag that you slept until at least 7 a.m. every morning? It's like you knew how much I loved that and decided to poop on it and devastate Daddy by getting up at 6 a.m. every morning since Millie joined our family. Quite frankly, it's pure evil. I mean, I know it could be worse. I know someone who's little boy woke up at 1 a.m. the other day and stayed awake until 6... but seriously? Mommy's not that patient and when I return back to work in a few weeks, you're going to have to start waking up at 7 again. Sorry. Those are just the rules.

* Chairs: You have decided that any chair is your chair. You use your newfound climbing skills to pull yourself up on the kitchen chairs, but you also have decided that you are entitled to all chairs... even baby bouncy chairs. Which means that if Millie isn't in her bouncy chair, that it's fair game and we can usually find you laying back in it reading a book or just sucking your thumb. You also let us know it's time to eat by pulling out your high chair, bringing it to it's normal position next to the table and lifting your arms up for us to lift you into it.

* Who's The Baby?: You experienced a little bit of jealousy when Millie arrived home. You wanted to be held just like she was... all day long. And when we took the two of you for a walk and stupidly decided you would walk, rather that ride in a stroller... well, that was a rookie mistake that we won't make again as you threw a fit and had to be carried most of the way. And when you weren't being carried or throwing a fit, you insisted on pushing the stroller Millie was in. Even though you're not quite tall enough to do it by yourself . And, you know... you NEITHER WANT NOR NEED OUR HELP PUSHING, MKAY? So, that was another fit that was thrown. You've also been confiscating Milli's binkies and keeping them as your own. As well as her blankies. Luckily, you've gotten over this (for the most part), and we're trying to remember that although you're the older sister, you're not an adult yet and you're still (for the most part) a baby. A baby turning into a little girl, but a baby nonetheless.

We can't wait to see what the coming months bring. Hopefully more talking. Definitely more laughing. This is by far my favorite age.

Love,
Momma

Happy Birthday, Amelia Grace!

2011-03-07T18:57:00.000-08:00

Dear Amelia,
Well... it's taken me a couple of weeks to get settled with you, but things have calmed down a bit and I'm ready to tell you about your birthday!

You were due on Saturday, February 19th. I actually thought that you would come much, MUCH earlier than that. But, Mother Nature likes to mess with Mommy (remember that) and keep me as uncomfortable as possible... for as long as possible. So, on Friday the 18th we went to the doctor to check my progress and... yep. No progress. But, your cute little head was sitting right on a nerve that was causing me a lot of pain. So, the doctor decided to induce the following Monday.

We were scheduled to go in at 9 a.m., but at 6:45 that morning, the phone rang. (Just as a side note, no good ever comes from a phone call before 7 a.m., baby girl.) Anyway, apparently every woman in Ogden (with the exception of your mother) went into labor that morning. The nurse told me that they were completely swamped and didn't know when they could get me in... or even if they could get me in that day.

Awesome.

So, we spent the day with your grandparents and your older sister. Just basically sitting around twiddling our thumbs. I did, however, manage to throw my neck out while getting dressed after a shower that afternoon. It was bad enough that I had to make an emergency trip to the chiropractor... who was a little taken aback at how in the world he was going to adjust the HUGE pregnant woman who was due THAT DAY.

After the adjustment, I came home and laid down to rest and ice my neck. And your Daddy decided that he would take Hazel to the Treehouse Museum for one last day of fun for her before your presence blew up her world. Right about then, the hospital called and told me that we should be there in an hour. I jumped up and caught your Daddy just as he was about to pull out of the driveway.

Prior to leaving for the hospital. Our last photo as a family of three!

We got to the hospital at 3 p.m. and got checked in. By 4 p.m., they had broken my water and induced me. When they broke my water, they discovered some meconium in the fluid and the doctor told us that it was a good thing we were inducing now, as it would be possible that you would have developed an infection from the meconium if we had waited much longer. Which is good because we had been questioning whether or not inducing was the right way to go with you, or if I should just be content with being fat and miserable for however long it took for you to come on your own.

One last bump pic before you joined our family.

And then the waiting game began. We had waited for you for 9 months, I suppose what's a few more hours, huh? The thing is, I forgot how utterly uncomfortable labor and waiting for labor is in that stupid hospital bed... hooked up to every monitoring machine known to man... which my insurance company willbcharge me an ungodly amount for using.

But, I digress.   Let's just say that the next few hours were not ones that I care to repeat. I wasn't in pain, per say. Because, well... yea, I'm all about the epidural. But, the epidural doesn't fix the lack of any kind of comfort to be found in that bed. And the nurses who keep coming in and asking you to roll to the other side because apparently, baby doesn't like the side you're lying on. As if rolling over while 40 weeks and 2 days prego, while attached to every monitoring device this side of the Mississippi is the most natural and easy thing in the world. And... oh wait! The baby doesn't like THAT side, either! Time to roll back. And let's do this ALL. DAY. LONG.

But, you know... other than THAT, things were good. Daddy and I watched some movies (in between the rolling) and reminisced what our life was going to be like with two little girls running around. I have to also admit that I was silently girding my loins for the hell that would be the first six weeks of your life. The scars we developed from your older sister's first few weeks of life are still visible and just a little bit of salt on the wound brings it rushing to the forefront of my brain. All the crying, all the screaming... and then, of course, there was how Hazel handled her first few weeks of life.

Honestly, Daddy and I were pretty convinced that the reason we struggled so much with your older sister is that... well, we just pretty much sucked. And we were hoping that with you, we would be better since we would learn from our mistakes. But who knew???

Anyway, by 9:30 p.m. that night, I was at a 4. A. FOUR. All of this misery and moments of outright dignity killers (oh, trust me, you'll know what I'm talking about one day when you have kids of your own) and I'm only at a four???

Two hours later, I had progressed to a whopping 4.5.

And my brain exploded.

The doctor told me to get some rest and brace myself for a long night... and that she was going home and would be back when I was ready to deliver. Your Daddy and I decided that we would try to catch some shut eye.

At least, that was the plan. After we shut off the TV and turned out the lights - and after your Daddy managed to fit his 6-4 frame onto possibly THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE COUCH EVER MADE IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, because why should Mommy be the only one uncomfortable during delivery? - well, see, that's when the LifeFlight helicopter touched down right outside our window.

And your Daddy has always had a fascination with things that can fly.

Which is why whenever I think about the moments immediately preceding your birth, I picture the profile of your 34-year-old father, on his knees on the couch in the dark, looking out the window in fascination at the helicopter as it landed.

A few minutes later, I started feeling a certain pressure that followed every contraction and it dawned on me: I hadn't pooped in about 24 hours.

Perfect. I'm in labor with an epidural that has rendered me effectively paralyzed from the waist down... and the only thing I fee like I'm about to deliver? Not. A. Baby.

So, I woke up your Daddy and asked him to call the nurse and asked her what the poop protocol was. Surely, they had one. Which - because he's a rockstar - he did. The nurse who came in didn't seem to be fazed by the question and responded that if I had to go to the bathroom, it probably meant I was ready to deliver.... so let's just check, mkay?

I remember rolling my eyes and explaining to her that it took me 2 hours to get to a 4.5 from a 4, and there was no way I could be at a 10 right now because it had only been 20 minutes and SERIOUSLY? I just need to poop.

But, after a quick check the nurse said: "Yep... you're ready to go."

To say that we were a bit stunned would be putting it lightly. To say that it took every ounce of willpower I possessed NOT to push for the next 10 minutes as we waited for the doctor to get there would be a HUGE understatement. I remember holding your Daddy's hand and looking into the corner of the room and thinking to myself: "What are they going to do if I do push? Put me in delivery jail?"

Luckily, the doctor got there just in time and didn't even have to say the word PUSH. The first contraction I felt I went for it. I remember the doc counting to 10 while I pushed. And then telling me to rest for the remainder of the contraction. And I remember thinking to myself that she could shove it... and then saying out loud: "NO! Let's go!" and I pushed again.

Right then, I could see your head. Yes.... I caved and asked for a mirror. I knew this was my last pregnancy and would be the only time I would have the opportunity to see a baby being born, so I thought what the hell? And yes... seeing your head down there was just... WOW. Unbelievable!

I rested until the next contraction, and the doctor told us that on my next push, we would get to meet our new little girl. Boy, did that give me some motivation and on the next contraction... there you were! (And, sidenote: I have to say, if all women could have a two minute, two contraction delivery like that... well, I think more women would be willing to give it a shot.)

You came into this world at 12:12 a.m. on February 22. Seeing you come out was an amazing experience, and one that I'll treasure forever. You came out crying. Immediately. When your sister was born, it took a little bit before she started crying. You? You were crying the second your nose and mouth were out.

You were SO tiny, baby girl. I couldn't believe it. You came into this world at 7 pounds, 4 ounces and 20.5 inches long. A skinny little thing. I still can't believe that your Daddy and I could roll out a 7 pounder. We were expecting AT LEAST 8 pounds. For as big as I got during the pregnancy, I couldn't rule out a possible 9 pounder! SEVEN POUNDS? Unheard of!

Anyway, after you came out, the doctor held you up for me to see and I was expecting her to hand you to me and let the nurses clean you off while I held you, as had been the plan prior to your arrival. But, she didn't give you to me. Instead, the nurses took you and started cleaning you off and suctioning you out. I didn't realize for a little bit that this was because there was something wrong. Apparently, you had inhaled some fluid during delivery... and since there was some meconium in the fluid, it was further cause for concern.

I don't know how long it was before they finally let me hold you. It felt like YEARS. And when I did hold you... it still brings tears to my eyes the laborious sound of your breathing as you tried to expel the fluid on your own.

I just held you and you looked up at me while you struggled for breath. It was an awful rattling sound and you looked miserable. It broke my heart. I just kept encouraging you to breathe. I thought maybe that if I sang a song to you, that would somehow help. It didn't. I don't know how long I held you... three minutes, maybe? But the nurses decided that you weren't going to be able to kick it on your own, and that you needed a breathing treatment. And the next thing I knew, you were out of my arms and out of the room.

I made Daddy go with you... to wherever they took you for your treatment. And the next thing I knew, I was alone in the room. EVERYONE had left. The doctor. The nurses. The technicians. I was just sitting in my bed, crying and staring at the door just waiting for Daddy to come in and tell me that everything was okay. But, the door remained closed and I have never experienced a fear like that. And hope that I never do again.

When the door finally opened, it was your Grandma and Grandpa Paskins and I immediately sent your Grandma to go find you and Daddy and report back to me on what was going on. Right about then, the nurses and doctors suddenly reappeared and began filling me in on your progress. There were a lot of medical terms and explanations of what therapy they were performing on you... but the gist of it was: You were going to be okay. Shortly thereafter, Daddy came in and told me the same thing... before rushing off to watch over you some more. A little while later, he sent one of the nurses - who happens to be a friend - in with a camera to show me pics of you with the oxygen tubes in your nose holding your Daddy's finger.

Right about then, I demanded that they take me to see you. It had been FOREVER since I'd held you in my arms. So, the nurses got me in a wheelchair and wheeled me to the nursery. It wasn't until that moment that I actually knew you were going to be alright. Your breathing was so much better and the icy fist that had been squeezing my heart since the moment you were born finally started to loosen its grip. I got to hold you and we posed for our first photo with you.

Your first bath!

And that's when we decided to officially give you your name: Amelia Grace Nadolski. But you are currently known as Millie. We chose the name Amelia because we love the name. And there was also a movie about the life of Amelia Earheart on HBO this winter and every time I turned on the television, there it was. We also love the name Grace.

We spent the first night with you in the room with us and you pretty much slept through the night. This was a new experience for us, as your sister didn't let us get a whole lot of sleep that first night. But you? You were chill. And have been ever since. Sure, we've had some issues with nursing... in that you're not really good at it yet and it requires a LOT of patience on Mommy's part. Even two weeks later. But, we're getting better.

Your older sister wasn't quite sure what to make of you when she met you the next day. But you have to give her a break, she was sick and teething three teeth, so she wasn't really herself. The first week you were home was pretty tough as she acted out quite a bit. But even while she wasn't happy with the situation, your older sister sure liked to love on you. Every night before she goes to bed, she gives you a "hug" by putting her head next to yours. I hope that you and she will be best of friends when you get older.

We are so happy that you're a part of our family, Amelia. Our family feels like it is complete with your arrival. I hope that we make you as happy as you have made us already.

Love,
Mama

Party Of 4

2011-02-20T21:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Hazel,
Tonight is your last night as an only child. We spent the night playing and snuggling. I can't help but get a little teary-eyed and nostalgic when I think about how much your life is going to change and how hard it's going to be for you to adjust.

Please know that when we had you, we always knew that we wanted you to have a brother or sister. It's not that you weren't enough for our family. It's that we love you so much we wanted you to have a sibling. And we loved that sibling so much (even before we met them) that we knew the best gift we could give her was an older sister like you.

In short, the two of you will complete our family. We will soon be a family of four. And you will soon be a Big Sister. With all of the responsibilities that come with being the oldest. Yea... I'm sorry about THAT part. I know all too well what it's like to be the oldest... what it's like to be the guinea pig. But, I think that you've got the character to handle it.

I hope that this change in your world doesn't cause too much stress for you. And I hope that you love your little sister as much as we love you. And I hope that the two of you will be best friends and that our little family will be as happy with two as we are with just you!

Thank you for being such a sweet little girl that we decided we wanted to risk our sanity and have another one.

Please never forget that we love you and always will.

Our last night as a family of three.

February 20, 2011

Love,

Mama

Hazel Basil - Months 15 &16

2011-02-20T21:28:00.000-08:00

Oh Hazel,
So many things have happened in the last few weeks and months. You have become such a little personality that I feel like to do you justice, I should be filming you 24/7... just so everyone has the chance to see just how freaking amazing you are.

You've been particularly happy and are still growing like a weed. I recently had to buy you some new shoes... you're a 6.5 now. And oh my! Do you love shoes! You like to put your feet in Daddy's shoes and attempt to walk in them. And you bring your shoes over to me so I can put them on for you. Of course, you think that means that we're immediately going to go outside and play. Which we normally do.. unless it turns out that it's snowing and you're sick. Which is the perfect storm we ran into today.

It's actually been a relatively mild winter so we've been able to take advantage of it. And you have, in fact, discovered that you HEART the wind. The other day, you ran up the sidewalk with the wind blowing in your face and the look of joy you had took my breath away.

You still enjoy taking baths... especially in your new bathtub, the kitchen sink.

You still love to read and you're still a great sleeper.

You've become quite the little helper. In fact, today you actually took your dish over to the sink and put it in. WHAT? Yea... I'm sure that in a few years, I'll be thinking back to this particular moment and wondering where in the world we went wrong since you'll refuse to do such things. You also like to throw things away... and you even took your own diaper to the garbage and put it in for us. And trust me, at 9 months pregnant, that REALLY helps out Mommy.

So, I'm hoping that when we bring your little sister home this week, you'll continue to be a great help.

You love to run around and screech in happiness. You still love your Playhouse Box that we scored when we got a new microwave.

We've started to try you at the kitchen table for eating. You seem to do well there, but I'm not sure that I'm ready for you to make the transition... you know, where you can leave the table unassisted. Luckily for us, you still LOVE to eat.

And it doesn't really matter if you've already eaten... if Mommy or Daddy makes the mistake of eating in front of you, you immediately run over to us, unhinge your jaw and demand to be fed whatever it is we're eating. I suspect the only way to cure you of this is for one of us to take one for the team and eat some peas... as it appears you are OVAH peas.

You have turned into quite the Daddy's girl these days. You love you some Daddy. Part of this, I suspect, is because Daddy's had to take a bigger role since I'm less mobile that before. And my goodness, you want to be wherever he is. No matter when. No matter where.

You've also become super lovey in general. You will give kisses and will snuggle with your favorite stuffed animals... and any animals you see in a book. You're also all about smelling flowers you see in a book... I can't wait for spring so you can smell some flowers in the garden. And I can't wait to plant the garden with you!

You're currently teething about 4 teeth... which has unfortunately made you a leetle bit grumpy. Awesome. Just in time for a new baby.

You've also taken to playing... hard. Meaning, you have started to hit while you're playing. This is no good, baby girl and we've had to come down hard on you a couple of times and remind you to play soft. It doesn't help that Grandma Paskins taught you how to hit yourself and other people in the head with the drumstick of the set you got for Christmas. You picked up on THAT pretty quick. We expect a few notes from day care about it this week. And we're gonna have to have a discussion about this with Grandma Paskins.

You are a big fan of slides these days and we've spent a couple of days at the duck pond where you fed the ducks before hitting the playground.

A friend of mine sent you a cute little shirt and a matching onesie for your little sister. I can't wait to have both of you dressed up in them. And look! Mommy put something in your hair for once!
UNPRECEDENTED!

Some big changes are about to rock your world, sweetie. I hope you know that we love you so much that giving you a little sister is the best gift we could give you.

Love,
Mama

Where Are You???

2011-02-20T20:53:00.000-08:00

Dear Squirt,
It's February 20.

You were due... yesterday.

And..... yep... you're still not here yet. Despite my best efforts to get you to come into this world sooner rather than later. Yep. Let's recap the last couple of weeks for you so you can see that yes... Mommy is trying to squeeze as much living into her last days of freedom for a while... while also hoping that all the activity will encourage your arrival.

Last Wednesday, I went with my girlfriend Kaylene to the musical Hairspray. I figured that with my luck, I would go into labor in the middle of it and be THAT chick. But, no... no baby. But, a really fun play where we got to see some of our friends perform. I got home that night at about 11 p.m. and was still so exhausted by the next morning, that your Daddy had to get Hazel ready and drop her off at day care, while I slept in. When I woke up, I seriously debated sitting around the house for the rest of the day (sans pants) simply because I didn't feel like getting ready for work. But, I went in anyway... something that makes my immediate supervisor happy. Just because he likes seeing me uncomfortable. And has made that clear to me. Often.

That Friday, your Daddy and I headed downtown to a free Ice Cube concert on 25th street. Yea. That may not have been our brightest move given the fact that there were close to 10,000 people there. And an untold amount of weed. And a 9 month pregnant belly? Didn't really fit in well with the crowd. After an hour of standing in the street, squished like sardines... we had to make a break for it right before Ice Cube took the stage... by scrambling under a table and pushing our way through a mass of high concert goers. We HAD had a really good view of the stage prior to bailing and had we stayed and risked our lives, we would have actually gotten to see the man... but as much as we wanted to be able to tell you that the night you were born we had been at an Ice Cube concert... we thought that risking our safety and your safety was going a bit overboard.

We ended up going to the back of the crowd where there was a little more room to breathe... but then it wasn't like the air we were breathing was good for you or me, so after about three songs (in which I enjoyed several flashbacks to college) we left and headed home. By 10 p.m., we were showered and in bed. Because that's how we roll these days.

But, you KNOW we had to do a bump pic at the concert...

Week 39!

That Sunday, we headed up to Snowbasin to watch the Super Pipe of the Dew Tour. Which meant some "hiking" for me. We hoped that the change in elevation and the physical exertion would do the trick. It. Did. Not.

But, we still had a good time and your big sister got to enjoy one last weekend being the center of our world.

We went to the doctor for our finally appointment last week and it turns out that while you're ready to make an appearance (and we know this because your cute little head is nestled securely on a nerve that makes my special place cry out in pain all day long) Mother Nature isn't really moving things along the way we would hope she would. So, all of that planning to just wait until you're ready to make your big entrance into this world? Well, those plans got tossed out the window because, quite frankly, I'm kinda over the pregnancy. I want to get on with things, you know? I want to be mobile again. Your Daddy REALLY wants me to be mobile again. I want to be able to lift up Hazel without pain and I really, really, REALLY want to get out of my maternity clothes.

But most of all, I want to meet you. I want to meet the little girl who causes me to pee five times a night and who gets the hiccups multiple times a day. I can't wait to see what you look like and discover your personality. I can't wait for Hazel to meet you and I look forward to the two of you being best friends. I can't wait for the Nadolski's to be a family of four. I can't wait to see if I have learned anything from all of the mistakes I made with your sister... or if it's true, that I can't be taught.

So, we're inducing tomorrow morning. We were a bit surprised that the doctor suggested it... normally, she likes to wait five days after your due date to start an induction, but decided that the pain was enough to warrant only waiting two days.

We are so looking forward to you making our family complete, baby girl. We knew when we had your sister that we were OF COURSE going to have you. It was a given. We decided that the very best gift we could give Hazel is a little sister. And the very best gift we could give you, is an older sister. The very best gift we could give ourselves? The two of you. It may have happened sooner than we expected, but oh my... we wouldn't have it any other way.

See you soon, baby girl! Our family is waiting to meet you!

Love,
Mama

Let's Talk About It

2011-01-28T18:30:00.000-08:00

Dear Hazel,
Just a quick note to update you on a couple of developments.

You had your 15-month checkup last week... which means that Mommy subjected you to the terror and torture of a visit to the doctors office... which included the last of your boosters for at least 10 months. Woo-hoo! But that means that Mommy wasn't your favorite person right about then. In fact, you let me know of your displeasure even before the piercing screams during the shots by REFUSING to share your grapes with me. That's right, you sat on my lap with the bowl in your hands and popped each grape... ever. so. slowly.... into your mouth while maintaining eye contact. And that eye contact said: Suck it, Mommy.

But, other than the shots, it was a good visit. Although the doctor mentioned that at your age, you should have at least a three-word vocabulary.

See... this was news to me. Right now, you've pretty much got two words:

- Mo? Which means more of whatever we've been doing or feeding you. And we hear mo? mo? mo? approximately 153 times a day.

and

- Mamamamamama. But I don't really think this counts as Mama because you say it whenever you want something in particular. I'm not sure you even car if Mama is the one who gets it for you. You just seem to know that if you say that particular word, it gets results.

So, for the next three months, we're really going to focus on getting you to say more words. Otherwise, we may have to consider speech therapy. Blah.

Don't get me wrong, you've said other words here and there. Berry, moo, milk, hello, me and doggy... among others. But you don't really ever repeat them. You obviously understand words. I can tell you go to get your baby or the ball, and you go right over to it and bring it to me. We can ask you to go kiss Daddy or go kiss Mommy and you do it. You also can point to your nose, ear, eye, mouth and feet on command. But talking? Not really your thing. You pretty much prefer to babble. And while it's a joyous sound to our ears, we're not concerned that you speech is for some reason delayed. I don't know... I'm probably just worrying unnecessarily... but that's what Mommy's do best.

You still love day care. A bit too much, I sometimes think. Lately when I come to pick you up at the end of the day... well, you could really care less. In fact, you have taken to running away from me. And when I try to put on your coat or jacket, after having wrangled you into my arms... well, that meltdown is something to behold. I'm starting to get worried that the staff at day care might think that we beat you at home or something. In a word? It's pretty disheartening. There is nothing in this world that sucks more than knowing that your child doesn't want to come home with you. I won't lie... Daddy had to let me cry on his shoulder last night because of it.

But, in your defense... I cry at the drop of a hat these days. We've got just three weeks until your little sister joins us. So, I'm pretty much on the edge emotionally 24/7.

We've also started to transition some of your toys into your bedroom and are hoping that teaches you that your bedroom is where you play. We are still looking for a dresser for you. Without a lot of luck . So, we've still got a lot to do in the next few weeks... you know, before the Squirt Bomb of 2011 hits us.

Love,
Mama