Wednesday, April 27, 2016
The other day, someone asked me how life with three kids was working out. Even though O has only been with our family for a month and a half, it feels like it's been much longer. It feels like he's always been there. Mind you, I no longer have him to blame for bumping into things (perks of having a big ol' pointy belly) nor can I use the, "But, the baby really wants me to eat chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream right NOW" excuses either.
Life with my three is good. Really good. We are all still adjusting, and I've quickly learned that sometimes, I'm miraculously able to make all three happy at once. I'm also able to miraculously (or maybe not-so-miraculosly) make all three cry like crazy at once as well. I've yet to join that cry-fest along with them, but I'm just waiting for my invite to come in the mail.
Since O has joined us, I've also come to realize that I'm not superhuman. Not that I have ever thought that, but i'm certainly nowhere near close to entertaining that thought right now either. I'm okay with getting just a couple of things checked off my to-do list daily because I know right now my season is this: a slow moving whirlwind that can be heard from miles away, and you don't want to take your eyes off of it so you don't miss anything. And it also spews throw-up on you several times a day.
So on mornings where we don't take S to school, you can often find us cuddled together in bed watching our favorite shows. I act as the referee between my older two since they will inevitably choose different shows, and occasionally they'll let me doze off...which is astonishing because Doc McStuffins really knows how to make polka-dot-itis and squirm-a-tosis absolutely riveting. (Sorry, Disney, you'll have to call my lawyers before using any made up disease I come up with on this blog. I know they're good.)
Did you know that Chris is a sock guy? I guess if you just know us through our blog you wouldn't, but my husband opened up doors to the wonderful world of socks through the years that we've been married. You should see his sock drawer. It is in-sane. The nice thing is that I always know what I can get him for Christmas. And you can bet he is always super excited to open up a pair of socks. He has fortunately (or unfortunately) passed his sock fetish on to the rest of us, so when Foot Cardigan reached out to us, it was an absolute no brainer.
Foot Cardigan is a company that allows you to purchase a sock subscription, and they also make kids socks. Their socks are fun and definitely not ones you'd find just anywhere. And don't ask me how many days in a row Pato wore his socks...no for real, don't ask me. Good thing he has such stinking cute feet. And how perfect are Pato's duck socks?? (For those who don't know, Pato means "duck" in Spanish.) He likes to pretend that his socks quack, and it pretty much melts me.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
It's not surprising, of course, that a baby's first year is full of firsts. As O is very quickly approaching his one-month mark, I am reminded daily of how quickly time flies by. I'd like to do a better job at documenting O's milestones, so here we go...O's Year of Firsts.
His first bath. I feel like I'm always comparing first experiences with the other kids' first experiences. For example...S's first bath. You would've thought we had thrown her in a bucket of pure ice. She screamed and screamed right through it, and for every bath after that for a good month. But then again, she came into the world screaming and hasn't stopped since.
O did cry out at first, and I don't blame him. But he didn't cry for long. He just seemed jittery and unsure. We washed him up and then he zonked right out after we had wrapped him in a towel. And then, of course, I cuddled him and kissed him all over. Get used to it, kid.
Friday, April 15, 2016
You'd think with the amount of sleep I'm getting, the last thing I would want to do is go out in public alone with my three. A month ago, I would have said that was crazy talk. There's a very fine line between "Kids, don't even ask me to feed you" tired and, "Sigh...how about some cereal?" tired. And oddly enough, the less sleep I get the more prone I am to the latter reaction. Maybe it's my brain's way of saying, "I give up. I'm at least i'm alive. Might as well do something." Does that make sense to anyone?
Anyway. I piled the kids in the car and we decided on Five Guys for lunch. I can't for the life of me figure out why the kids love to eat the peanuts there SO much other than they just like making a big mess with the shells. S ordered a cheeseburger, and J a hot dog. I love how he eats his hot dogs. First he eats the hot dog and then he eats the bun. It's really quite adorable.
At one point, a man wearing a braid on either side of his head walked in. S was convinced that it was Willie Nelson (although he didn't look a thing like him) and it took me a solid five minutes to convince her otherwise. I then spent another few minutes convincing her that Willie probbbbably wouldn't be walking into this specific Philly Five Guys any time soon. I think that conversation ended with her demanding,"Well, why not?!" And I answered with a, "He's just not going to! And that's it."
Later on, another man passed by us as we were eating, looked at the kids and the baby in the carseat next to me, and he said, "Are they all yours?"
Guys. My heart soared.
I've never been asked that before, because, well, I guess with two, it seems entirely plausible that they would be mine. Plus, people were probably too busy scratching their heads trying to figure out if mine were twins or not.
But "they!" They! Yes, they are all mine! I made every single one of them.
I think I answered with a much-too-enthusiastic "yes!" And I was so proud at that moment. Chris' Granny says one shouldn't be proud, but that there are certain things to be proud of.
As I look back and read this and think about that moment when I quickly glanced around at all three, I think about how there were moments would I just break down and cry because of the aches from this last pregnancy. I would turn to my husband and tell him that I wasn't sure I could handle it. We would pray that I would make it a night without terrible pain. When I look at little O, I know it was all worth it. And now that I think of it, maybe it's not pride that I feel. Maybe it's just gratitude. Grateful that I was able to bring these three little people into the world when at one point, I didn't even know if that would be an easy possibility. I'm just grateful.
So, if you even remotely follow along with our family, you already know that we've had quite a busy month. We welcomed baby O into our family, and it's amazing the sweet spirit he has brought into our home. I want to write a separate post about his birth, and more of the details that I want to remember, but for now, I'm doing this.
Writing disjointed things for the mere sake of making sure they are written down somewhere. Because there is so much I don't want to forget. We are all head over heels for this boy, and he is even better than I dreamed. He has his daddy's feet and looks so much like S did as a baby. He smells divine and he loves nothing more than to be cuddled up close.
Because of that, I've had to learn to do a lot of things one-handed...and...well...I'm not complaining. He's been doing so well the last couple of weeks of sleeping in his bassinet, and sometimes I scoop him up and hold him because maybe I need to be cuddled close to a baby, too.
Something else I need? Water. Holy crap. I am ALWAYS thirsty. The other night I woke up feeling like my body had been depleted of every drop of water it had. I ran to the bathroom and used my cupped hands to drink water from the faucet. (For the last few months, I've always had at least one or two glasses by my bed, and out of all nights, I had chosen this one to be a responsible adult and clean up after myself.) When the cupped hands weren't cutting it, I threw dignity out the window and straight up stuck my head under the spout and started guzzling and guzzling. I kept thinking, "Give me water. Give me ALL the water!" Like, someone PLEASE figure out how to get all that salt out of the oceans and down my throat. We'll figure out a place for all the whales to live in later...
Again, please forgive me and this little blog for the next little bit as I try to fill in some gaps and try to write things down in a way that make some sort sense. And forgive me when I go off on tangents about how thirsty I am.
But, then again, if you've been reading along, you know that's how we roll over here anyway :)
**Fair trade woven mini basket c/o Little Cottonwood. What I love about this basket is that every purchase helps the weavers of the baskets by providing healthcare and school supplies to them and their families. We used them as the kids' Easter baskets, and now they use them to store their "stuffs."
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
I could have also titled this post: How to Give Your Sensitive Three-Old-Nightmares
They take everything that's gold because they LOVE gold. And if I'm not careful, they'll snatch my necklace right off my neck!
Leprechauns come to your school or to your house (or anywhere that people live) in the middle of the night.
But, sometimes they come in the day. Or in the after noon. That's the only times they come.
They are verrry quiet and verrry sneaky!
They're so teeny tiny. As tiny as a teeny tiny ladybug. He can even squeeze under doors.
Another thing is they they are mean and grouchy.
They are absolutely real because her teacher's have seen them. They live in Philadelphia, and ALL over the world.
Leprechauns wear hats that are yellow, black and brown, and they have brown beards that look like Daddy's.
And that's all there is to know about leprechauns.
How gorgeous is the silhouette print behind S? Essie, from A Family Print Shop took a picture right from my Instagram and turned it into this print, and I totally gasped when I opened it. I think I even said out loud, "That looks just like Sof!" She also does wood silhouette plaques that I'm totally eyeing as well. Thanks so much, Essie. Whenever I look at it, I'll be reminded of her and her little ballet class. Don't you wish you could hang on to those moments forever?
Friday, March 4, 2016
1. How she doesn't set her expectations of me too high. Earlier, she asked me to grab her a glass of water. Five minutes later, she asked me again, and I told her, "I already did, love. It's right there on the table next to you." She then responded with, "You did? Oh! I'm so surprised!"
2. How she always reminds us to say our prayers at meal time. She will absolutely not let us forget!
3. Her bangs. And her hair. I wish I could just put her hair on my head.
4. How empathetic she is. She totally gets that from C.
5. Her sense of style. And by style, I mean how she wants to wear the same sparkly tutu with everything all the time. Doesn't matter if it's with pants, pajamas, a dress, naked, whatever.
6. Her curiosity. MOST of the time it's great. Sometimes, it's not. But, I'm just gonna put it on here and maybe it'll help me trick myself into thinking that the million questions she asks per day are endearing.
7. The songs she makes up. She often will just start singing her words instead of speaking them, and I'm starting to wonder if she'll be one of those drama-kids in high school.
8. Her cute bum. It is SO cute! And she knows it.
9. That she loves to help me cook. We have so much fun in the kitchen together.
10. When I catch her in just the right mood, and she will cuddle right up next to me and tell me that she's my girl.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
I remember it like it was just yesterday.
It was the summer before sixth grade. The year that I would start middle school. Gone were the days of that elementary school safety net, and soon, I would have to navigate the halls to get from class to class among hundreds of kids I had never met before. I knew it was time to give up little kid things, and along them...my bangs. Those were first on the list.
I recall telling my mom that I was ready. I was ready to ditch the bangs that I had had for years; that had fallen like a thick sponge on my forehead. That was before hair straighteners were popular, and I thank my lucky stars those were discovered before I hit high school. High school was ugly as it was, but without a straightener...well...let's just say no picture of me would have survived from those years.
So, thus began the summer, which I will always remember as "The Summer I Grew My Bangs Out." My mom and I were ready to tackle the beast. I was equipped with head bands, bobby pins, and butterfly clips. Ohhhhh butterfly clips. One question about those: why?? Really, just why??
We spent a lot of the summer up at my grandparents house in Rochester. I remember playing with my little brother, Drew, in the backyard. I'd spray him with the water hose and we would splash in the small baby pool filled with freezing water for hours.
I think that was the summer I gave up playing like that, too.
Every morning, I would wake up and check the status of my bangs in the mirror. I'd pull them down straight over my eyes, thinking maybe if I tugged just enough, they'd grow a bit more. I remember being disappointed because it was just sooooo slow. (A lesson I've learned time and time again as I constantly fight the "bangs or no bangs" battle.)
By the time September rolled around, my bangs were just long enough to clip to the sides. They still looked horrendous, mind you. The funny thing is, I distinctly remember walking into my new building that first day of school, and I noticed that were a lot of girls just like me: bangs pinned back after a summer of growth. I'm sure they had spent their summer in front of their mirrors, tugging at that hair just like I had.
When do we grow up like that? It's taken me years to look back at that moment, and be able to pinpoint it as such. An "Oh, there you go. You changed a little bit" moment.
What made me think of this? Well, as of late, S has been telling us that she was ready to grow her bangs out. She'd constantly push them away from her eyes, and it would make me cringe because her bangs pushed to the side like that just looked a little...well, let's just say, not my favorite look. Part of me was sad because she's had bangs since her very first haircut. I love that they still make her look like my little girl. By getting rid of the bangs, I thought I'd have to just give in to the fact that my little girl was getting older.
But! But! Today she told me she wanted me to trim her bangs. You better believe I raced her upstairs and pulled out those scissors in about ten seconds flat. Which, let me tell you, is quite the feat these days because I can barely walk up the stairs without getting winded!
And what's best is she was so excited about it! When I finished, she asked if she could look in the mirror. She took one look at herself and giggled. "They look beautiful!" she said. For the rest of the day, I caught her looking at herself in the mirror a few times, and very gently laying her bangs flat.
Girl, whenever you're ready to outgrow those things (bangs, getting tucked into bed, nose kisses, holding hands in public, etc.) I can't guarantee that I'll be one hundred percent on board. I can't guarantee one hundred percent that I won't stop trying to reach for your hand. But you better believe I'll still one hundred percent love you no matter what.