A Second Set of Firsts

Obviously with your first baby, there are countless "firsts" that are experienced. There's the first time you hold a baby of your own. There is the first time you see your husband hold that sweet bundle of joy and feel your love for him grow and grow and grow. There is the first time you strap your baby in a carseat and feel a weight of responsibility heavier than you have ever felt before. There is the first time you see your baby crawl, say "Mama", walk, kick a ball, take a bath, slide down the slide, swing on a swing... and on and on the list goes.

I have experienced all of these firsts and so many more with Brody, my little bee. 

I was so worried before I had my second child, that there wouldn't be any firsts left to experience! I'm here to tell you, I was so wrong.

However, the firsts with a second baby are different. For me, they are less documented firsts, and definitely less talked about. There is the first time her brother met her in the hospital. There is the first time he shared with her. There is the first time I walked into the room and they were playing together, all on their own. There is the first time they fought over something. There is the first time he was excited for her about something she learned. There is the first time he helped her. There is the first time he stood up for her at the playground... and on and on the list goes.

I loved being a momma to one child. But, I feel like a lot of the firsts I experienced with Brody were for me. I remember reading and reading, book after book, trying to figure out how to keep a baby alive, and figure out what they were supposed to be accomplishing at what age. Then comparing my own child to the set guidelines, and the other babies around me. With my second though, I've learned to breathe a little and not pay as much attention to all of the stats set by other people's children. 

This time around, the firsts with Bonnie are for them. My babies, growing up together, with me as their momma. I'm living it, instead of reading about it. And that you guys, is a first for me.

honest, kind, thoughtful, and just so dang handsome

I remember getting into his car on our first time hanging out. I kept thinking about how surreal it felt to be sitting alone in a car with such a good looking guy. His voice. His laugh. His smile. He was so attractive, but at the same time, one of the nicest people I had ever met. We went running together that day, and after, just sat in his car, in the parking lot of a waterfront park. We talked.. and talked. I don't remember what we talked about that day, but I do remember how I felt. Excitement overwhelmed me as I tried to believe that someone like him could be interested in someone like me. He didn't take me home right away, so I tried my best to assure myself that this was a good sign. I wanted to scream. He was honest, down to earth, not full of himself, funny, and just so so likeable. Why was he interested in me? After that day, I was determined to become the type of girl he deserved. I found who I wanted to be with on that sunny August day, five years ago. He dropped me off at home, and while I held myself back from hugging the life out of him as I said goodbye, I felt like I was floating, in some dream that I accidentally fell into. I never felt so happy, complete, and focused in my entire life. I was in love. I felt naive to think so, and I wouldn't dare say it out loud to anyone. I am, and always have been, a sucker for love movies and love books, and I couldn't believe that I was finally writing my own love story. 

Meanwhile all I'm thinking is that I'm trapped in this hour glass, and that my babies are going to die.

As I exited that mall, in a rush to get home in time for my office hours, the eleven o'clock heat beat down on the three of us. I walked briskly to our car, let Brody out of the stroller, opened the door to have him climb into the car, pulled Bonnie out of her carrier, put her into her car seat, and closed the door. Already sweating from the heat in the middle of an asphalt parking lot, I broke the stroller down, threw it into the trunk of the car, shut the door, and went to the driver's side of the car. As I prepared myself for the familiar convincing I was about to do to the car climbing toddler inside the vehicle to get into his seat, I went to open the door. Nothing. The car was locked! My babies were locked inside the car and I was outside. Oh. My. Gosh.

Oddly calm for the situation at hand, I thought, wait, Brody is inside. He can unlock the car. After all, he was the one who locked it, right? WRONG! I begged him. "Brody, Brody, please unlock the car." "Here is the button!", I yelled as I pressed and dug my finger into the window, pointing at the button on the arm rest of the door. He looked at me, with confused eyes. What mom? You want me to push our fingers together against the window? Oh, okay. Wait.. that's not what you want? "Brody, the button! Press the button!" Oh, the button! I love buttons! Okay mom! "No, Brody, press the other button! That one locks the door." The other button? Okay! I will go to the other door and press the other button. "Brody, no! NO! That button locks the door! Please press the other button!"

As tears stream down my face in frustration, I realize, there are keys inside the car! These keys are my way out of this mess! "Brody, under the blue bag, on the seat... get the keys!" Mom, I'm not sure what you are saying, therefore I am just going to play with these cool radio buttons. Oh, what's this? A horn? That's pretty cool. Oh wow, I've never noticed this before... a mirror. Oh look, I can pick my nose and see it in the mirror. "Brody! Brody!"

I realize then that my phone is in my pocket. I also realize how loud my voice is outside of my head, yelling into my car trying to convince my two year old to unlock the friggin' car. As I try to call Jeff, the phone keeps going to voicemail... of course, just my luck. As I'm crying, calling Jeff over and over, calling his boss, calling and calling.. I'm just watching Bonnie's little head glisten with sweat inside the car as she stares back at me with her innocent little eyes.  Meanwhile all I'm thinking is that I'm trapped in this hour glass, and that my babies are going to die. "Please Brody, get those keys!!" Momma, why do you look so sad? Is something wrong? Oh yeah, there is a horn. Let me push this thing again. Wow, it still makes a big noise.

A guy walks slowly over to my car at this point. He asks what is wrong and if he can help by calling mall security over to unlock my car. Yes, Mr., please!!!! He calls them right away and I try to explain myself while I'm shaking and so upset. He understands and I find out he works at the mall and this same thing happens often. While this makes me feel a bit less of a crazy person yelling at her car with her locked children inside, I just want my babies out of there. It's so hot, and I'm so done with this morning.

Jeff finally calls. The security people show up right as Jeff pulls up (with his awesome boss) and unlocks the car. Brody immediately climbs into my arms with his innocent little face. Jeff pulls Bonnie out of the car, and things are okay again. Everyone is breathing, and I have the keys again.

Oh my word.

I'm on Facebook too much- guilty as charged.

& I don't see myself changing anytime soon.

Being a mom is extremely lonely at times... As in most of the time. And being a mom of young young children is even more lonely. Here I spend every single day doing the same thing- over and over. I wake up, prepare food, clean up food, pick up toys, read books, play with blocks, watch children television shows, kiss booboos, nurse a baby, rock a baby, sit with a baby... And on and on the list goes. While these are not bad things to spend my day doing, I do find it gets to feel very tedious sometimes to wake up and do it all over again, and again, and again. With the exception of a play date once in awhile, most days blend into the next- and so this is life. 

Facebook. 

Facebook is my outlook into other worlds. It's my way to vicariously watch other children grow, other than my own. It's my relief when I'm having a hard day and I can see that I'm not alone. It's my evidence that I'm really not alone. It's my distraction to get my mind off my mundane life in my small apartment. It's my tool to communicate with people nearer my age who don't make me feel like I'm talking to myself. It's my hobby of coming up with statuses that make light of some of the crappy things involved in parenting, or the crappy things in life. It's my motivation to take more pictures to share with all my loved ones far away. It's my escape to other places that I won't be able to experience for years to come. It's my entertainment on boring days when we are stick inside because of rain, sickness, or tiredness. 

I could go on. But I think you get the picture.

Am I on Facebook too much? Probably, but I don't care. I will never be one to try to take a break from social media, because to be frank, I like it way too much. I would be torturing myself.

I still set my phone down during the day. I still play with my kids. I still witness small sweet things they do during the day. I still cook meals (sometimes). I still shower. I still make sure my house is (reasonable) clean.... So yeah, I'm good. Nothing neglected, that I can tell.

Facebook makes me a better mom, and I believe a better person.

It saves me from depression. That may be sad to you that I can talk about Facebook saving me from something, but it's true. And I'm okay with that. 

Heres to Facebook! 

a plane, an airport, one momma, and two babies

Pictured here is the one photo I was able to capture at the airport and on the plane while traveling from Seattle, WA to Salt Lake City, UT. How was the trip, you ask? Well, we arrived there alive. That's what counts, right?

My mom and my sister drove us the hour and a half distance to the airport. With the background noise of a screaming child in the backseat, we tried various things to quiet the sound. He was mad that he couldn't get his sandals off, however he didn't want any help. He was angry that he had to be in a carseat, however he didn't understand why we wouldn't let him out. And on and on these scenarios continued. Meanwhile, we were all thinking the same thing... this was going to be one interesting trip, to say the least.

We pulled into the loading/unloading area and my mom and my sister checked my bags in at the quick stand out front. (However, it wasn't that quick, and the guy was rude, and I'm sure we were causing him a big headache with all of our special situation baby shenanigans.) Meanwhile, as they were checking the bags, I tried to reason with my sweet crying toddler, that we really needed to make our way inside the airport doors. After multiple tantrums during the 5 feet from the car to the airport entrance, we finally made it inside.

My mom knew that the time her car could spend in the drop off area was limited, so with tears in her eyes, she said a quick goodbye and left me with a baby in my arms, and a toddler on the ground, refusing to move. I literally wanted to quit this whole traveling thing at that very moment. But here we were, and time was ticking away. We needed to get to the gate or we were going to miss our flight home.

Long story, a little bit shorter... We finally made it to the gate in a little over at hour length of time. This trek included many "Come on Brody!"s, "We need to move Brody!"s, MnM bribes, McDonald french fry bribes, sympathetic looks from other travelers, and a sweaty momma who was wishing a stroller would somehow fall from the ceiling. (THAT was the stupidest mistake if there ever was one.)

We got to the gate, and we were able to witness a small miracle- a free bench that was meant to fit 4, but that I planned to fill up with my belongings quick, before anyone could sit next to us. I needed space. I just needed to rest for a second. As I sat there, Brody was amazingly well behaved. He watched the airplanes out the window and ate his food. I dug through the toys, snacks, diapers, and wipes in my purse and finally found my bottle of Diet Coke. Thank goodness. As I nursed Bonnie awkwardly, while everyone was staring at me since I was already quite the site to see, I just prayed that Brody wouldn't leave his beloved french fries, and would just give me a few more seconds to sit there.

All was well until our airplane arrived and people started to unload the plane. The ramp they walked up must have looked like the most fun thing to Brody, because he attempted to run down it time after time. After the 15th time, I put him into a timeout at a empty gate waiting area across the way. Things were better after that. After gathering up our things, we finally got to board the plane.

The seatbelt started our flight on a bad foot. Surprise, surprise. Brody wanted nothing to do with it... and so our trip continued with the same theme of the day...

While many things about this trip were not ideal, however I do want to mention a few blessings that happened that day. I didn't have to change a single diaper on the plane. My babies didn't puke on the plane, aside from Bonnie choking on a cracker. The lady we sat next to was a grandma and was more than happy to hold Bonnie while I tried to reason with my unreasonable toddler as he screamed the entire last 30 minutes of the plane ride. We got to sit on the front row of the plane. This 1, let us leave the plane quick, and 2, allowed me not to have to see all of the people napping being forced to wake up to the sound of my sweet, stubborn, Brody. Another lady was able to help guide Brody with her stranger danger power to make the walk to the baggage claim a lot quicker for us.

As we neared the baggage claim, we saw Jeff. What a site it was. He is so handsome, and he had the biggest smile on his face. After such a long time of traveling, I was so ready to not be a single parent anymore. We all missed him so so much. He took Brody in his arms, and Brody was my content child once again.

The picture above is of Brody when we are right outside the parking garage. If you look close, you can see a little smile on his face. This is one of the few smiles he had during the whole trip. We were finally together as a family and momma didn't feel so alone anymore.

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Want to get thrown up on?

Want to get slapped in the face?

Want to listen to screaming until your head is about explode?

Want to get a few (hundred) nights of no sleep?

Want to then have to function the next day off of no sleep?

Want to try to control something uncontrollable?

Want to talk to someone who won't listen to you?

Want to clean up food from hair, bodies, and floors, over and over again, multiple times a day?

Want to wipe some poop off some butts?

Want to wipe some poop off some butts that are squirming away, rolling away, kicking away, screaming away while managing to get said poop all over you, the floor, the changing table, the walls, and more?

Want clean up some puke?

Want to clean up puke from bedding, the floor, your clothes, other smaller clothes, your hair, and give a bath to a screaming, kicking, someone?

Want to do it all again a half hour later?

Want to convince someone unconvinceable that they need sleep?

Want to rock, and rock, and rock an overly exhausted child to sleep because you don't know what else to do?

Want to try and put them down in their bed without waking them?

Want to feel an awesome cringing feeling when the moment you stand to set them down they start to stir?

Want to hear the screams start again when you finally set then down?

Want to hear those same screams behind closed doors for what seems like forever? 

Want to feel a great sense of loss at what to do when you finally give into those same screams?

Want to feel like your life is coming to it's slow painful death and that you'll never sleep again?

Want to feel like you need to be stern to not start any bad habits, and feel like you are the most unloving living thing at the exact same time?

Want to feel frustrated?

Want to try bribing and fail?

Want to try persuasion and fail?

Want to try giving time outs and fail?

Want to cuddling and fail?

Want to try literally climbing inside the crib with them to try and sleep together and fail?

Want to feel like poking out your eye balls is a better option than what is going on at the current moment?

Want to watch the night hours pass by so quickly and know morning is coming all too soon?

Become a parent! You get all of this and more! Better yet, become a parent of a toddler. Think infants are hard? Puhhhleeeseeee. 

*Written with the background noise of a screaming tired child, with heavy eyes, and with love at 4:00AM on just "one of those nights". 

#dislifedoe

I just need a little something more.

A lot has been on my mind lately. Bonnie recently hit the 6 month age mark and I've begun to feel stir crazy. I think a small apartment can do that to anyone. 

Before Bonnie was born, I felt so bored. Not a bored that I have nothing to do kind of bored, but a bored that I have many mundane things to do, over and over again. That feeling has returned.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a momma. I LOVE being a momma. On the good days I absolutely love it, and on the bad days I still really do love it.

I love waking up with my babies, eating with my babies, playing with my babies, going for walks with my babies... I love so many things about our days together...

HOWEVER sometimes at the end of a day, I look around my house at toys littering the ground, dishes in the sink, clothes needing to be folded... And feel like I got absolutely nothing done all day. 

There are weeks that pass quickly. We have doctors appointments, play dates, office hours, and other activities planned. But on those weeks where everyday fades into the next, feeling exactly the same as the last one, that's where I get bored. Bored of doing the same thing over and over. 

In those weeks I also feel tired. I know there are things I could plan, or create, to spice things up a little... But to be honest, I just don't have the energy! I feel like unless something like appointments or planned activities are already in place, it's difficult for me to have the motivation to want to add variation. Sounds backwards, I know.

So I go, day in and day out, getting the same things done, over and over again. Diapers changed, laundry loads switched, laundry piles folded, toys picked up, dishes washed, strollers pushed, groceries shopped for, mouths wiped, counters cleaned, floors mopped... On and on the list goes. And even though this list is long, at the end of these days, I feel so unproductive. 

I need more. And I'm not sure what that "more" should look like yet.

Should I get a second job? Start a hobby? Write a book?..

I find myself leaning towards another job. Just a very part-time job, a couple nights a week. This scares me a little, however it also excites me.

I think it might be the variation I need to escape from the mundane tasks of motherhood I find myself in. 

I imagine having a small job some type.. I would be able to get out of the house, without my kids. I would be able to interact with other adults and have regular conversations. I would be able to earn a bit of extra money. I would be able to come home, excited again to be back at home with my sweet family. I would be able to feel refreshed. 

I think it might be good. 

I hope these thoughts and feelings don't make me a bad mom. I want to be a good mom. If I could choose to be only one thing, I would, hands down, be a mom. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to be a mom. 

But... I also want to be other things as well, at the same time. I'm naturally a busy person. It's in me to always be doing something. And while I was still figuring out how to take care of babies, my mind felt busy, so I felt busy.

But now, Bonnie reached that 6 month mark and I'm back to feeling bored and not busy the way I prefer to be- the way I am happy being. 

I just need a little something more.