Being sick and being a mom, at the exact same time.

Ever wonder what it's like to be sick, and be a mom, at the exact same time? Here, I'll give you an example..

My morning: ... Well, actually, let's take it back just a few hours. So this time being a sick, I have a stuffy-beyond-life nose (You know, the kind that makes your nose feel like a giant bruise because you have had to blow it so much, and you feel like your brain is about to come out through your nostrils every time to want to clear it all out. Yeah, that kind.), a constant headache (love those), and a sore throat, with a cough on top (the kind that you have a cough there, but you are constantly working to hold back the cough, because your throat hurts so dang much, so the blasted cough tickle is the better of the two options). Think I got a good night's rest? Nope. Also, drinking an extra amount of water is supposed to help get you better, right? Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it also makes you have to pee multiple times a night like a preggo. (I'm not pregnant.)

6:45 AM 
Brody is awake. Of course. I walk into his room, barely traveling straight, and only able to whisper, to attempt to try to coax him into letting me change his diaper, his soaked sheets, and his soaked pajamas (dang you Huggies "overnight" diapers that don't actually work!). After, we load up his FIVE stuffed dogs (Thank you kind Valentine's Day Gift Givers), and 4 blankets. I sit him on the couch, and turn on wait for him to try to turn on and then finally ask me for help, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. "Eat," says Brody, in which I reply, "Momma is tired, baby. I'm going to lay on the other couch and try to sleep a little while you watch Mickey." "Yeah." Whoa, he is agreeing to me sleeping. Awesome. Wrong. {15 minutes later} "Mommaaaa! Mom! Momma! Mom! Mom!" "Yeah, baby?" "Cheerrrriioooossss..." "Uh, wait until baby is awake and then I'll get you breakfast." "Momma! Cheeerrriiiooossss.." "Um, Brody, if you want Cheerios, go get it yourself. Momma is tired."

I knew that this would consist of him climbing himself onto the counter, and getting the cereal box off of the top of the fridge. I knew that this was kind of dangerous. But I also knew that he does this same action many times a day without my consent, so really, what is the difference? Safe and sound, he got them himself. Win. Good choice, Momma. Now, go to sleep, just go to sleep.

{10 minutes later} "Mommmmaaaa! Baby is awake!" Goodness? Already? Of course, she would wake up more than a hour earlier than normal. If only Brody could go get her out of her bed by himself too. That'd be the life. "Let's go get her, Brody." We go retrieve the sweet little bundle from her bed, and I am greeted with her cute little smile. I love that baby. So, that's a plus.

As I change her poopy-poopy-poopy diaper, Brody informs me that he is poopy as well. Two poopy diapers. Awesome. At least I can't smell them though. So there's that. "Brody go get yourself a diaper." (I don't know if it is just Brody, but he LOVES retrieving things for me. It definitely has it's perks in times such as sick momma days.)

One thing though, mornings that I allow the TV to be on for longer than about an hour, the craziER side of Brody appears. He gets into things like lotion. He makes messes of things, like dumping all of the books on the floor from his bookshelf. He is mean to his sister, like pushing her, yelling at her, and being possessive over everything including things that actually really are her's. And I know this about the TV, but honestly, I never learn my lesson. I always have this vision in my head that they both will just sit there, with smiles on their faces, and watch the screen, and that I can relax. Ladies and gentlemen, this never happens. And I repeat, never happens. Even if they are sick along with me, somehow, even then, it just never happens. TV, at least in my house, is not a babysitter for my kids, as much as some days, like today, I try to make it be one.

Brody had gymnastics at 10:00 AM. The smart Momma, would have probably skipped it today, but the cheapo Momma, like myself, was like, "Heck no! This session is already paid for!" So therefore, I had to take a shower. The kids were somehow playing with puzzles together nicely for a split second, so I ran to the shower as fast as I could. (Nah, I didn't run. Who are we kidding?) But I got in the shower. The hot water, and the blessed steam made me feel so dang freaking goooooddddd.. I hear Bonnie screaming about something. I try my best to ignore it, because I REALLY needed this 2 minutes of space in the shower. The yelling doesn't stop. Uggghhhhh.. I get out of the shower, no towel, dripping wet, and run and grab Bonnie. I tell Brody that he needs to be nice to her. I sit her in her chair at their eating table, and cut her up a muffin. Yes, with conditioner still in my hair, and yes, with facewash still all over my face. Bonnie just stared up at her crazed out Momma. I was GOING to get that shower!!!!! I hopped back in and didn't hear anymore screaming for the rest of the 1 and a half minutes. Success.

I somehow managed to get both kids and myself ready, and out the door, on our way to gymnastics. (It helped immensely that gymnastics is extreme motivation for Brody to get himself ready, quickly. And it also provides a good amount of motivation for him to help retreive things for Bonnie, like socks, sippy cup, etc.) We did it though. So with a wet pony tail, we got to gymnastics on time, and Brody had a great time. And his energies were spent on something else than destroying, my already destroyed, house. Win.

On our way home, I imagined the mess we were about to arrive too. I thought about how I needed to feed the kids lunch. I thought about how I still hadn't cleaned up the muffin mess that Bonnie had made all over the kid's table, and all over the kitchen floor during my shower. I thought about all of this, parked the car in front of our home, ran inside, grabbed my wallet, and jumped back into the car and headed to McDonalds. Yep, it was just one of those days.

If anyone reads this, that was at McDonalds this morning.. To them, I would say, I tried to sit as far as I could from everyone else there. I would say, I'm sorry that you had to listen to me blowing my nose the entire time. I would also say, if you ever catch this illness, and you have kids, you will understand, so just you wait.

I sat there. They ate. They climbed in the playland (and probably caught more diseases for us to have to endure later), but I drank my caffeinated beverage (thank goodness for that!) with squinted, tired eyes. I was a wreck sitting there, in McDonalds this morning, but it was a break, and that was something I needed.

As we pulled out of the McDonalds parking lot, a huge rush of liquid spilled all over the front windshield of our car. Diet Dr. Pepper. Yum. All over the car. Yep, that was my luck. Of course, I forgot to take it off the top of the car after buckling the kids in. Of course. There goes my medicine of choice. What a waste of a dollar!! I quickly put the car in park, hopped out, grabbed the cup (I have no idea where the lid and straw went), and drove home, anticipating the nap time routine I had ahead of me with two kids....



You guys, you get through it, because you have to. It's dang hard sometimes though, and many times there are tears involved. Tears of frustration. Tears of impatience. & tears of complete and utter exhaustion. Being sick totally sucks. But being a mom and being sick, totally sucks even more.

5:00 PM
I lay in bed, typing this story and thanking the stars for an awesome husband who will rescue me from the kids and let me rest. I don't know how I got through this morning, but I feel like even though Jeff arrived to a disaster of a house when he got home, I won today. Somedays, keeping the kids alive equals winning. Somedays, that is all you can do, as a momma who is sick.

One last thing, Single Mommas----- You. Are. Saints.

The end.

a one year old baby girl.

her curls.
oh those curls.
her tiny nose.
& that profile.
that smile.
her smile, that is so familiar to everyone who knows her.
her laugh.
her laugh that is easily given
& so, so contagious.
her eyes.
those big, brown eyes.
always watching.
watching the world.
her long fingers.
those gentle fingers that graze my face each night as she dozes off in my arms.
her little body.
a body that is growing, each day, faster and faster, right before my eyes.

my baby girl.
a year old baby girl.

a baby girl that i love so, so much.
a baby sister that is adored by her older brother.
a daughter that is the light of her parents eyes.

somedays I'm so tired.
so, so tired.
the clock is slowing, growing faster, towards the morning hours.
& can't even fathom how I am going to get through the next day..
but then your little smile.
the way your arms reach up towards me as I near your bed.
the way your lay your tiny, soft head on my shoulder
& I pull you into my bed.
& we cuddle.
oh, how I will miss cuddling with you someday.
your tiny body, fitting perfectly against mine.

I pull the blankets up over both of us,
& just pull you close.
hold you so close.

my baby girl.
a year old baby girl.

you're my buddy.
& I hope it stays that way.

lately you have been crawling over to me,
using my shoulders to stand yourself up,
turning yourself around,
& plopping your little butt into my lap.
goodness,  i love when you do that.
& you just sit there.
content.
even if it is only for a few minutes.
you are close,
& still.

my baby girl.
a year old baby girl.

As much as I hate to think that you are getting older,
& these moments aren't going to last forever,
I'm so, so excited.

I'm excited to watch your personality develop.
I'm excited to learn about the person you are going to become.
I'm excited to see what your interests are.
what your dreams are.
I'm excited to hold your hand as we walk across the street together.
I'm excited to watch what you pick out to wear for school pictures.
I'm excited to braid your hair.
I'm excited to throw a sleepover for you.
I'm excited to take you to the movies,
just us.
I'm excited to get to know the little girl that you are.

my baby girl.
a year old baby girl.

you are special.
I'm sure of that.

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.