Maybe if towels didn't exist, marriage might be a little bit easier.

As I walk into the bathroom the familiar hand towel is strewn across the counter. How in the world is a towel, meant to be used to dry your hands, supposed to get dry in time for the next use if it's left in a jumbled mess and not hung up?

At least it's better than having a huge bath towel taken out of the drawer (instead of the hand towel) to be used as a hand towel, and yes still left in the counter in a jumbled mess. Isn't the size a dead give away as to what the different towels are meant to be used for??

Speaking of different sizes of towels... Let's walk ourselves into the kitchen. We have two types of towels- hand towels and dish cloths. Hand towels are again, meant to be used to dry your hands. They are NOT to be used like a dish cloth. Therefore I should never see a hand towel drenched in gross whatever water and draped across the sink. Save me.

Furthermore, towels should never, and I mean never, be left with pieces of food inside of them. Thank you for doing the dishes, but seriously if I have to lift one more dish cloth that is left in the sink and find myself sprinkling mysterious food particles everywhere I'm going to scream!

One more thing to do with towels. These are ones commonly found in the bedroom. Bath towels don't belong on the floor. (Neither do dirty clothes for that matter.) I don't enjoy cleaning up toys off the floor, but I have learned to except that aspect of my everyday life. However, I definitely don't enjoy cleaning up adult sized towels off the ground that have been previously used. And hey, bath towels could be used more than once to lessen my laundry loads- wouldn't that be a concept. 

We won't name any names here. I'll let you use your imagination. 

Oh, towels.

#momlife

I probably shouldn't admit that the following event really happened, but I'm going to in order to describe some of the things us moms do in desperate situations... At least I hope a few other moms can relate with similar experiences. There is a good chance though that I might be the only one insane enough to let something like this happen.

Here it goes: 

Bonnie sleeps in our bed. I love being able to cuddle my babe all through the night. I may even be able to say that I love the restful nights I get by doing so even more. Anyway though, whenever she wakes up, I just pull her close to me and feed her. This is usually a perfect situation- she falls back to sleep, and therefore I fall back to sleep. Works like a charm every time... Well, except for last night.

So in the middle of night, I pulled Bonnie close and she started to eat. She must have been asleep for quite awhile before that because she started to experience  "the flood" of milk- so much that she started to gag. Oh no. Please, please no. And then cough, cough, whoosh, I then experienced "the flood" of milk, otherwise known as throw up.

Both my shirt and the sheets underneath me were sopping in warm liquid. Bonnie somehow was dry. (She has perfected the projectile technique in her short 2.5 months of life.) As I lay there, my eyes so tired I could barely keep them open, I thought, "Why me? Why this? Why now?" I got up, noticed how my baby was somehow now sound asleep, noticed how Jeff was still sound asleep, and left them both to change my shirt.

Now the question remained- Do I wake them both up by turning on the light, getting them out of bed, removing the wet sheets and mattress cover, putting on clean sheets, and praying that Bonnie will fall easily back to sleep? My tired self answered with a "Um, I don't think so."

So I solved my problem with the next best thing- two towels. One to soak up as much milky puke as I could, and one to lay right underneath us. Yes, on top of the remaining puke. 

And that's how we slept. 

Honestly, this decision felt absolutely logical in the dead of the night last night. Completely logical until I woke up this morning and remembered why I was laying on top of a towel. 

Yup, that happened last night. I slept with puke. 

#momlife

But gosh, she's so worth it.

a momma's identity

I have to say it- I just love being pregnant. When I'm pregnant I feel so happy carrying my little inside of me twenty-four hours a day. I feel proud to wear my belly out places and enjoy the extra attention I get for it.

When I'm not pregnant anymore, I find myself yearning for those same pregnancy feelings that I love.

This "wishing to be pregnant" feeling comes strongest at the rare times I'm out in public without my kids. I have a "baby face", as some would say, and I doubt that any stranger would guess that I had two of my own babies waiting for me at home. It has been a common thing for people to guess that both of my younger sisters are actually older than me. We all three think this is funny, but are very used to it.

With this being so though, when I don't have my kids with me, I don't think that anyone would think that I was a mom. And I am a mom. And I am so proud of that fact. It's my favorite identity- my momma identity.

However, when I'm pregnant- everybody knows. They see my baby bump and ask questions, or they don't ask questions, but I am just content that they know. This makes me so happy and so proud.

I love being a momma and I want everyone to know it. When I feel like people are looking at me like a regular person, and not a mom, it somehow makes me feel weird, because I feel like they should know. When checking out alone at the grocery store, I feel the urge to say, "Plastic please, and also, I'm a mom!"

I've never really done this, obviously, but I honestly get the urge to.

So my pregnant belly fixes these urges, and I love it. I love being pregnant. I love being a momma. Everyday I wake up and know that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing with my life- living and loving these two beautiful babies.

timeouts

Now that Brody is at the age where he is starting to understand right from wrong, parenting life has all of a sudden become a whole lot harder. He likes to push the limits. For example, if I tell him not to touch the TV, he will look me in the eye, and touch the screen as gently as he can with one little chubby finger. Another example is if I tell him to not hit, he will softly tap the thing or person he had decided to hit with a big smile on his face like he wants me to know that it is "nice hitting", not "real hitting". He is like this in many different scenarios, and let me tell you, it can drive me crazy at times.

Right now a speech pathologist comes to our house every other week to work with Brody. He is still not talking, so when I took him in for his 18 month check up, the doctor thought that it would be beneficial for him to be a part of this program.We'll see if it helps... it's been three months and we haven't seen much progress in the speech department.

The program believes that working on daily struggles with the child (such as hitting, screaming, throwing food, etc) in certain ways will help him in his speech development at the same time. She suggested that we try putting Brody in timeout. Before she visited at house, I hadn't thought much of trying timeouts with Brody because he seemed like he was too young and couldn't understand consequences yet. However she thought it was a good idea, and hey, who am I to question the expert?

So for the two weeks following that meeting that she had suggested timeouts, I was a strict "timeout giver". If he started to scream, hit me, or disobeyed, away he went to his room. It was awful! As time went on I felt as though life at home was just horrible. Brody never wanted to come to me. He didn't want to play with me anymore. He was overall more angry all of the time, which led to more screaming, more hitting, and more disobeying.

I noticed a change in myself as well. I felt myself becoming obsessed with punishment. If he did anything wrong, I immediately jumped up to correct him. I was starting to ignore the times when he simply just needed a hug. I began to not care. The fact that he was disobeying me and needed correction became more important than anything else that may be going on in that moment. 

Not only with Brody, but problems started to arise even with my relationship with Jeff. I started to blame anything that Brody did wrong on Jeff. If he was screaming at Jeff, I would immediately start to nag him with a phrase that sounded like, "Well its because YOU did ______ and are not doing ____." This made Jeff become defensive and everything would get worse and worse as the night continued.

Eventually though, a thought came to me that said, "What are you doing Karli? You are this little boy's mom. He needs a mom who loves him. He needs the person that is around him all the time to not be an angry person all the time."

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that there was any amount of time that I didn't love Brody, but my approach to parenting had gone in the wrong direction.

After this realization, I decided that timeouts were not helping. They were not only making Brody mad all of the time, me mad all of the time, and Jeff mad all of the time, but they were making our whole home life just... horrible. I can honestly say that after getting rid of the timeout technique, life has became extremely less stressful.

I will never know if this is because things had to become bad, and Brody had to experience a bad consequence to make him act better. I also will never know if maybe just my change of heart and perspective that came from giving all of those timeouts made things better. So maybe, after all, the timeouts had done some good. All I do know though, is after taking them away and focusing on love has made all of the difference in our house.

Another thing I realized through this experience is that one area I was lacking is to give Brody his individual attention. I caught myself getting so wrapped up in Bonnie's schedule, in my office job work, and in keeping the house in order that I was forgetting about the part of my day that I just sit on the floor and play with Brody's cars with him, or when I take him in my lap and read him a story.

I've since fixed these parts of my day and Brody is a much happier and content little toddler. Gosh, I love him so much.

The last thing that I'd like to mention about these timeouts is the sad feeling I'd get as I started to believe that Brody truly hated me. This sounds so sad, and honestly, it is so sad. He literally didn't want anything to do with me. He would choose anyone, or anything, over his momma. And while I kept telling myself that this was all worth it, and that being a parent was just hard so this was just part of it, I kept not truly believing these things.

We are now slowly fixing the friendship we once had. I know that I can't always be my kids best friend, but I know that I do want them to love me. In order for this to happen I know that I need to show them that I love them just as much. Now each time he decides to hit, we turn the situation into a time to hug it out, and end with a little kiss. I try to explain and show him how hitting makes me feel and how it is a sad thing to do. I'm relieved to say that the hitting has decreased dramatically since those dreadful timeout days.

I don't think that timeouts are a bad thing. I think that they can still serve their purpose. I predict that someday they will serve their purpose for us, just not today. I don't think Brody is ready, and may not be for awhile.

Gosh, parenting is hard. When you think you have found the solution for something... guess again, things change and you are back to ground zero. The only thing that gets me through this frustration is remembering that there always can be something to learn from each of these trials and errors.

Priorities.

If I had known three years ago that the clothes I would buy then would be the same clothes that I would still be wearing now, I wonder if I would have chosen differently... The clothes that i had once purchased for dates, parties, and dancing, are the same clothes that now get spit up on daily, are worn with leggings most days, and get washed with free and clear baby detergent.

College life is hard. We are so dang poor. I never could have guessed three years ago that I would be someday be living paycheck to paycheck from a part-time job at McDonalds. Not to mention relying on that same paycheck to provide for four people.

One of Brody's favorite activities is to go to the playland at the mall. He also enjoys running down the mall, past all of the store windows, and waving with his wild arm at all of the workers standing outside the storefronts. As I follow my little wondering man, I sometimes look at the mannequins dressed in the latest fashions and dream of the day that I can wear new clothes again, without guilt.

I remember before the days of marriage and responsibility, when I worked at American Eagle, I would spend my nearly every paycheck on clothes. And I wouldn't feel bad about it, at all. Now, when I see something cute that I'd love to get, a million thoughts go through my head about what else that money could, and should, go towards.

Don't get me wrong, I am not writing this post to sound sad and naked... I'm just writing my thoughts about the different lifestyle I live than the one I lived three short years ago. Actually, I can honestly say that I am so much happier now than ever before.

I may not have new fashionable clothes each new season. I may not have my nails done and a fresh pedicure each month. I may not have highlights in my hair and a fresh cut every six weeks. I may not have a membership at the local tanning salon. But you know what? I do have a lot of other things that I didn't have three short years ago.

I have a husband, one that works his butt off for our family every single day. I have a college degree, and absolutely no debt to go along with it. (Thanks to hard work and my parents.) I also have two adorable babies who needs always come first.

I feel so blessed everyday for the opportunity that Jeff and I have had to go and further our education. It is hard work and takes a lot of sacrifice, but the future goal of having a career that will allow us to live comfortably someday is in sight. I have to remind myself frequently of this goal or else it would be tempting to just quit.

Getting through Jeff's degree is first priority right now. We are also trying our best to get this done debt free. Therefore things like clothes, shoes, and other frivolities are not something we get to spend our money on right now.

And really, do we really need those things to live a fulfilling life? We have a working car, a warm apartment, and food to eat each day. We have a stroller to take our littles on lots of walks. We have toddler toys to help our Brody learn by playing with him on the floor of our small living room. We have a table to eat dinner at together each evening when Jeff gets home from school. We have a bed to cuddle our sweet Bonnie in each night. We have a couch to throw all the pillows off and make into a jungle gym when the weather is too cold to play outside. We have a hallway to run, laugh, and race down just for fun.

Living this simple life is teaching me a lot about priorities that I think will benefit me through the rest of my life, even when we are making a bit more money. Whether it is saving for trips, or paying off a future home, we will always have to budget for the things that we really want. We will also have to decide what those things are, and have to decide which things to give up. I am learning that in order to have money for the important things, you have to give up wanting other less important things.

I know that in the end of my life someday I will not look back and wish that I had more clothes or a better car. The things that will be most important to me then, will be the same things that are most important to me now. Therefore, I should stop wishing for these unimportant things. I should instead spend my time living in the moment with the things that truly matter in life.

one simple song

If Brody loves anything, it is the movie Despicable Me. Am I proud that my son's favorite thing in the world (aside from maybe is father) is a movie of fictional characters? Eh, not really... but what are you going to do? This love started last summer on our trip to Washington. The movie was one of the things that Jeff had downloaded on our iPad in hopes that Brody would be entertained on our 12 + trip. Well, it worked. He watched that movie over and over again. This Christmas Brody got Despicable Me 2 and he is just as much in love. He dances, and laughs the whole way through. It's the only thing on TV that will hold his attention for longer than 15 minutes.

One interesting thing about this movie though (the second one) is that Brody is deathly afraid of the beginning scene. The movie starts with two random guys playing cards in the Arctic (or somewhere else really snowy). As soon as the scene starts Brody immediately becomes terrified. Tears start to stream down his face while he cries in horror... I wish I was exaggerating. It is honestly the weirdest thing I've ever seen. We don't know why the scene scares him, but we have learned to just always start the movie at the 2nd chapter to avoid the drama. 

The extras in this movie includes little mini movies. A few days ago I was watching one of them with Brody and he was dancing and dancing to the "Mmm-Bop" song. You know, the one that the band Hansen used to sing? Oh, how in love with those three boys I once was. As I watched little Brody dance to that familiar song, I realized that once upon a time, I used to dance to that same song. I remember distinctly being upstairs in my friend's bedroom, twirling around in circles together while singing, on the top of our lungs, that exact song. It blared at full blast.

That day, as I twirled and danced to that upbeat song, I never knew that one day I would sit on the couch, holding my two month baby girl, and watch my energetic toddler dancing to that same song. I never knew that I'd be smiling as I remembered that day in my friend's bedroom, dancing without a care in the world other than knowing the lyrics to that same song. I never knew how someday my little's laughter would make me smile and how just the sound of it would turn my day into a better one. I never knew that I'd someday enjoy joining my little guy in his silly dances and feeling so good about myself as I would have success in making him giggle more at my own silly dances.

That simple song made me reflect on how time passes. That day in my friend's bedroom had to have been at least 15 years ago. So much has changed since then. The experiences that have happened to me within that time, bad and good, have prepared me for the life that I have today. The life with my little dancing toddler.

figuring out discipline

Back in the day when Brody was so innocent and things were a bit easier.

Up until lately I've always considered sleep training the hardest thing I've had to deal with as a parent. However, ever since Brody hit his 20 month mark, we have had to learn how to discipline him. And man, I have to tell you, it is really really hard.

Honestly, it just sucks that parents have to punish their children. I never have thought about this fact until I was in a position to have to punish my own kids. I also didn't know that this phase wouldcome so soon.

Before I had kids, or even when Brody was younger, or actually I still catch myself now saying "My kids will never...." phrases. Lately, whenever a sentence (or thought) like this comes out of my mouth I have started to pause and think... actually you never know- my kids might do that exact thing.

Some of these phrases have been:
"My kids will never hit other kids on the playground."
"My kids will never scream bloody murder in the grocery store."
"My kids will never eat candy unless it is a special occasion."
"My kids will never watch more than one show a day on TV."
"My kids will never have to to be entertained by a screen in order to sit quietly and wait somewhere."

Seriously people, the list could go on and on and on. I am the worst, or have been the worst, at watching other parenting styles and telling myself that those situations I'm watching will never happen to me and my kids. And then they do... each and every one of them.

Dear Karli, you are no different than those parents you watched and judged in the grocery store, the playground, and everywhere else that kids are being... well, kids.

What a frustrating thing this has been for me lately. While Brody is screaming, at the top of his little lungs, up and down every aisle of Costco and people are watching as I cover his mouth with my hand in order to try to annoy him to the point of obedience... I'm just punching myself in my mind that I ever thought that my kid would act any differently than those other horribly behaved children.

We have been trying the timeout techinique lately with Brody while using "I can" language. For example, if he hits me, I will say, "Brody, you can either play here nicely with nice hands, or you can go into your room for timeout." Sometimes it works, but most of the time he just hits me again immediately after I tell him his options and into his room I take him while he screams, arches his back, and hits me a few more times. I set him in his room and he stands there, watching me with sad little eyes. As I close the door I see his face get sadder and he starts to cry (and yell and scream) as I shut him in his room all alone.

This same scenario happens if he won't stop screaming, throws food on the ground, or doesn't obey something I tell him to do or stop doing. Is it working? Gosh, I freaking don't know. And that part sucks the most. Putting Brody in time out feels like it just makes him more mad and more sensitive for the rest of the day. Sometimes he gets so upset he just won't stop screaming and carrying on.

This is especially hard for me when before a timeout he is his happy little self. For example, I was taking down the Christmas tree and I was bent over on my hands and knees under the tree trying to loosen the trunk from the stand. My shirt came up a bit on my back and my skin was showing. Brody saw this and immediately came over and started slapping my back thinking it was just the funniest thing ever. His laughter was so cute and it was honestly so funny, but I had to stop and think- wait, this shouldn't be okay. This is hitting. So I told him his options and of course, away he went to timeout when he continued to slap my back.

These are the times where it is so hard to consistently punish my little guy. Here he is having fun and laughing, and I turn around and throw hi in timeout, make him cry, and make him sad for quite some time afterward.

I know that discipline is something that is very necessary to raise a good, well mannered child, but it is so hard to know if what you are doing is working, or just making your life that much harder.