Whiny

I've been complaining a lot lately. Mostly about sleep. And I realized that if I were to actually listen to myself, I would probably roll my eyes at myself. My situation is pretty great. My kids go to bed at 7 P.M. There is some hemming and hawing, but they are asleep by 8. They still usually nap. Hell, Baby T is in daycare all day three days a week. I can sleep when Little M sleeps if I want to. I have time to get things done for myself, even if I choose not to.

Then I realized that if I were to listen to someone else complain this way, I might roll my eyes at them. Inwardly, of course. So I'm sorry I've been complaining about a pretty great life.

But as parents, most of us have one thing. The thing we don't waver on. The thing we do unfailingly no matter what. I posted a little about my thing the other day. For me, that thing is breastfeeding. I knew I was going to breastfeed my kids. I never minded being stuck to the couch for 40 minutes at a time, every hour on the hour. I never considered the fact that sometimes only I could soothe my crying child a hindrance. It never bothered me that it was me getting up with the baby at night or me doing bedtime because it was just the way it turned out, since I was the one nursing. You see, for me, breastfeeding was never challenging, because I knew that I would do it no matter how challenging it actually was, so I took away the drama.

Sleep, on the other hand, was a different story. I didn't know what to expect, so I didn't have any expectations. I tend to agree with attachment parenting ideals, but I also turn into a total freak if I'm sleep-deprived and exhausted. I always said I wouldn't support the cry-it-out mentality, but it wasn't my thing. So when it comes to sleep, it is all about drama. It is such a challenge. I've succumbed to letting my kids cry in their cribs at one point or another when the only other option would have been throwing them out the window.

After my kids turned one, I found dealing with bedtimes and nighttime wakeups annoying, even infuriating at times. I recently had a friend tell me that it's so much harder for her to hear her 13-month-old daughter cry for any amount of time in her crib now than it was when her daughter was just a baby. I felt the opposite way. I feel like babies don't have any way of communicating and don't understand why no one is responding to their needs if you let them cry, but when my toddler screams from his crib, "Mom! I need you!" it doesn't break my heart; it only sounds like manipulative whining to me.

So when Baby T changed from that kid who asks to go to bed, lies down, pulls up the blankets, says goodnight and sleeps through the night to that kid who climbs out of his crib, appears next to the bed at midnight sucking on his paci Maggie-Simpson-style, and wakes up at 4 A.M. turning all the lights on, it was practically an earth-shattering event in my house.

But it's all about perspective. I keep asking my sister how she managed it with two kids in a New York apartment. Her kids share a room. Her kids have shared a room since her second child was about three months old. When I ask my sister how she did it,she just shrugs her shoulders and says that it just worked out. But sleep is her thing out of necessity. She didn't have another place to put her second child. She always knew her kids would share a room, and there wasn't another option. She never complained about one waking the other up or the challenges that come about from a baby sharing a room with his three-year-old brother.

And I realized...the way to release the drama from motherhood is to make everything your thing. To do that, you must:

• Get rid of all expectations
• Live in the moment
• Address each action as it occurs; don't expect it to happen again, but don't expect it to never happen again either.
• Don't obsessively picture what your future will be like if you act a certain way today. 
• Remember: tomorrow is another day.
• Imagine the moment you first held your child in your arms.
• Imagine the moment your child will grow taller than you, leave for college, or get married.
• Have a beer, relax with friends, and get some sleep now and then.

Because You Can't Make This Stuff Up (Part III)

Leaving the grocery store:
Me: Say bye bye to Harris Teeter!
Baby T: I can’t say bye bye to Harris Teeter.
Me: Why not?
Baby T: It doesn’t have a mouth. It doesn’t have a head!

Baby T was playing with a tennis ball in the house and the dog kept wanting to take it from him. Finally, Baby T put the ball on the kitchen counter and told the dog, “It’s time out, Sully. You can’t take ball from me so it’s in time out.”

Baby T: Nice sweeping, mom.
Me: Thanks.
Baby T: Nice vacuuming, mom.
Me: Thanks.
Baby T: Nice crying, Mason.

Baby T: How was work, Dada?
Big T: Um, good I guess. It was fun.
Baby T: I love fun.



One day, the kitchen table was covered with my sewing stuff (as usual), and Baby T said, “I want to do a project. Mommy, clean up your mess.”

Big T was in the bathroom, and Baby T was trying to pound down the door.
Baby T: Daddy!
Me: Baby T, Daddy’s going potty. Give him some privacy.
(Baby T isn’t really familiar with the term “privacy.” He thought I said “surprise.”)
Baby T: (Banging on the bathroom door) Surprise, Daddy! Surprise!

Baby T: Oh my gosh, you’re in my way!

The kids were sick and coughing, sneezing, and sniffling.
Big T: Poor guys!
Baby T: I’m not a poor guy!

Baby T: Mason can’t talk like I do.

Baby T said, out of the blue: Daddy, why did you say dammit? (Daddy had not said anything of the sort. We’re a little nervous that all the swears we have said around Baby T have compounded and are going to come back to haunt us now.)

Me (standing in front of the open fridge): Where are the mason jars?
Big T: They are in the garage.
Me: No, we don’t have any out there anymore. Where are they?
Baby T (pointing at the baby food jars in the fridge): Here!!
Me: No, not those, Baby T. Ty—where did you say they are?
Baby T: Here, mommy. HERE!!
Me: No, I’m looking for different jars.
Baby T: But here are the Mason jars!
Of course. Baby T was pointing to Mason’s baby food jars. Mason's jars. Smart kid.

Baby T: (in the backseat of the car, babbling away. My mind was elsewhere. I get home, stop the car, go to his door, open it.) “So that’s the deal, mommy.” (said with conviction).
Me: What’s the deal?
Baby T: Poop.

Baby T: (out of the blue). Mommy, I want to ride either in a fire truck, or…. (thinks) in a police car.

Baby T: Mom! Stop! That hurts my ears!
Me: What hurts your ears?
Baby T: Your mad face!

Tmuffin in 2012

 I'm not a big New Year's resolution person. That's probably because I tend to make resolutions all year long, and then time passes, life happens, and I forget all about them. I don't want the added pressure of making resolutions I might not keep and feeling guilty all year. And I don't tend to like doing what everyone else is doing. ("Why am I blogging then?" you wonder. I know, right?)

My last photo of 2011

This year feels different. Instead of feeling like I have to break out on my own to prove myself, I've become enveloped in this community where everyone is feeding off of everyone else. It's like college, only with fewer vices. And my all-nighters aren't self-inflicted. The past few years have only been getting more meaningful, and this year feels like it's going to be the apex. Things are going to happen. I'm going to make them happen.

And things don't happen without goals. So here we go: My resolutions for 2012.

Be more honest in my blog - I tend to want to write content that people want to read, and I'm also a bit of a know-it-all. So I often write blog posts that make it sound like I have the answers. I've mentioned before that I don't have the answers. In case you were confused. I'm learning as I go along, and I often have no idea what I'm doing. Sometimes I do feel like an expert on a given topic. (I told you, I'm kind of a know-it-all). But sometimes I don't. I'm going to remind you guys of that more often this year.

Start exercising again - How cliche. I am so bad at finding the time to exercise. I don't prioritize it at all, but I need to. It can add years to my life. Right now, I feel like I want more time with my kids and Big T. I might change my mind when I'm 105. But I need to get my weight and my health back under control. I've also started menu planning in an effort to spend less money and eat more whole foods. I write about my menu plans every Monday, so check back for great recipes and menu planning tips and ideas.

Promote my business - I've been trying to build the Tmuffin brand for two years now. In 2011, I quit my full-time job to take care of the kids and work on my business. I've done a lot of setup and a lot of planning, but when people ask what I do for a living, I still stumble on my reply: "Um, I do a lot of stuff. To help moms. I make things, I teach classes..." I usually trail off. This is my new reply: "I run Tmuffin, a business that helps moms find their groove."

Make more art - I tell people I'm an artist, but I have spent the past year focusing on blogging and initiating my business that I've put off actually making things. This year, I need to be making a lot more art. I'll be making coloring sheets and printables, as well as educational and sensory toys for kids out of things like repurposed sweaters. I have an itch to create, and this year I have to scratch it.

Listen more and talk less - Shut up; I know what you're thinking. Especially if you know me in person. But this year is about learning, listening, and making connections. I often fail to make a true connection with people because I'm too busy talking and sharing. And I appreciate so much what other people have to share. This year I'm the one who is going to shut up.


Get more organized - I cringe as I write those very words. I am not organized. I spend as much time looking for things as I spend doing them. I try to get organized and I always fall back into my messy ways. I don't like taking time to organize or to put things away. I move from project to project, stuffing things into drawers and flinging supplies around the room. You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not.

The house is stuffed to the gills and I drive myself crazy going into four different rooms looking for the diaper cream. I'm tired of having to come up with five options every time Big T asks me to find something. I'm not one of those people who always misplaces their car keys. I just always misplace everything else.

I am going to start by having a place for everything. I want to treat my space like a blind person does, so I can just reach for something and know it's always there. If I can organize my space, I feel like I will feel so much less overwhelmed. I also need to organize my time. I made a huge dry-erase to-do list the other day, and I'm determined to use it. (Ignore the two tasks on there from Thursday that I haven't done yet). I just have to organize my time as well as my space. Maybe get on Facebook a little less or something.


Be more present and mindful with my family - Probably due to my lack of organization, I tend to always be doing 10 things at once. I often find myself getting frustrated with the kids because I can't finish a particular task that I'm working on (or several) because someone woke up early from a nap or didn't sit down to lunch. When I'm with the kids, they need to be my number one priority. They notice when my mind is all over the place, and no one benefits when I tell them "just a minute" five thousand times. Baby T is starting to notice. He now tells me "just a minute," or he tells me, "Mom! You forgot my juice!" And I do. I forget a lot of things. I need to focus, and that includes focusing more on my kids and Big T.

And that's the end of my resolution list. I'm not going to go crazy with it. This is enough for now. I can tell you right now the hardest things are going to be exercising and organizing. I should have added "hire a personal trainer and an assistant" to the list of resolutions. Oh, well. There is always next year.

Don't forget to sign up for my newsletter in the sidebar to the right so you don't miss out on any of the cool stuff I'll have for you this year!

Twas the Night Before Tmuffin's Christmas

The toy described in the poem. Which was awesome. Once it was put together.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Every creature was stirring, probably even a mouse.
No stockings were hung, but we didn't care.
St. Nicholas was coming, and Baby T was scared.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: Family pics

This week has been a big one for milestones: Little M is exploding with the things he does. He plays peek-a-boo with me by holding my hands and putting them over my eyes, then peeling them off and peeking in at me. He says "throw!" and throws his toys. (Ok, he actually says something that sounds more like "oh!"--but still. Pretty cute.) His favorite activity lately is putting toys into containers. And he understands what I tell him. If I tell him to do something, he usually does it. The kid is practically walking, and it's not right--newborns aren't supposed to walk!

Wordless Wednesday: A Day in the Life (Continued)

I've spent just as long posting this as I did living it. Maybe even longer. Last week, I left you with a little lunch and laundry. Here's the rest of the story:

2 P.M. - 4 P.M. After lunch, I nursed Little M some more, and he fell asleep, so I was able to get some writing done. When I'm just sitting on the couch and Little M falls asleep, I usually have the best luck if I lay him down right next to me. The only problem then is that I'm stuck. I can't leave the couch, because this kid is pretty mobile.

Because You Can't Make This Stuff Up...

Some light humor for your weekend:

Here’s some money, mommy! (Holding a credit card)

Baby T doesn’t normally cry very much if he gets hurt. So if he does wail, I get a little worried. The other day, I was in the kitchen and I heard a crash and Baby T started sobbing.
“Are you ok?” I yelled out.
“No! I not ho-kay!” Baby T yelled back. “I got hurt!”
I said, “Where did you get hurt?” as I rushed to him.
“On my flashlight!” he cried.
He then pointed to the exact spot on the flashlight where it was hurt and I kissed it to make it better.

We were playing with Uno cards, and I was showing Baby T different numbers.
Me: “This one is a two.”
Baby T: “It’s a cat!”
Me: “No, it’s a two. Ta-ta-ta-two.”
Baby T: “Ta-ta-ta-CAT!”

Talking to my sister, Andrea –
Andrea: “Is Little M my baby?”
Baby T: “No, Little M is MY baby. He ALWAYS my baby.”

While driving the other day, Baby T decided he didn’t like any songs on his CD. After every song came on, he would say, “I don’t like this song!” Finally, I found one that he listened to without comment. Then Little M started crying. Baby T said, “Mommy, Mason crying because he don’t like this song!”

How many times have you heard this out of a toddler’s mouth:
Me: Do you want to sleep in your big boy bed today?
Baby T: No.
Me: Why not?
Baby T: Because Jerry Garcia sleeping in my big boy bed.
Sure enough…

On a related note, we hung out at the beach last week with my sister's friends. One of the friends was a guy with long(ish) hair. At one point, Baby T looked over at him and said, "Mommy, what Bob Marley doing?" He proceeded to call him Bob Marley for the rest of the week.

Some Baby T-isms:
Tyrannosaurus Rex = Dinosaurus Rex
Piano = Compiano
PJ’s = TJ’s (There is a boy named TJ in his class and he somehow thinks I’m talking about him)
Remote Control = Camote

Wordless Wednesday: Riding Out Hurricane Irene

When there are 13 family members trapped in a house during a hurricane, this is what happens:

First, you're a little bored...

and in disbelief.

You get a little silly

and put baskets on your head.

Some people sleep.

New friends are made.

And when it all gets to be too much, you go out in the hurricane.

Even some of the babies got in on the action.

But Little M wasn't quite sure about the wind and rain.

HAPPY HALF BIRTHDAY, LITTLE M

Ha! Caught you sleeping.

Six months (and 3 days—I’m a little behind, as usual) ago I was hanging out at home lamenting the fact that you were doing things backwards. Your amniotic sac had broken, but you weren’t budging. It wasn’t a sign that you were stubborn—you’re just different. You’re relaxed and chill, and you go with the flow, but you know what you want. You wanted to stay for just a little while longer.

Maybe it’s because you’re such a snuggler. You were warm and cozy in there, and you weren’t ready to come out into the big, cold world. But you’re considerate; you made your entrance pretty quickly once things got painful. Thanks for sparing me the intense agony.

When I first saw you, I was surprised at how light your hair was. You looked nothing like your brother. As much as I compare you to your brother—I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but he was just all I knew when it came to babies—you are completely unique.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: FOURTH OF JULY SPARKLERS!

Baby T's and Little M's cousins came to visit this weekend. After Baby T was in bed, his cousins played with sparklers. Paranoid mommy didn't think Baby T was old enough. Mean mommy.

These pictures are pretty cool, though.

TWO KIDS UNDER TWO

It's harder than I thought

They say your life changes dramatically when you have a baby. They say you don't even know what you're in for until it happens to you. But when I had Baby T, things didn't change that much. I was a homebody anyway. It wasn't like I had to give up gourmet restaurant meals and late nights at the bar. Our idea of a perfect meal was grilling out in our backyard, and I hadn't stayed up past 1 AM since college (before the night I had Baby T, that is). The sleep thing was hard. I do like my sleep, so waking up every 20 minutes with Baby T and going to work the next day was miserable.

But I was happy. In the first three months, I would pack Baby T in the car with some blankets and diapers and head out--to friends' houses, the park, wherever. I remember a friend commenting on how much I was out in the early days. She said she had laid on her couch for the first eight weeks watching bad daytime TV. If I hadn't gotten out of the house, I would have gone crazy. Even though I normally love staying home, there was something about seeing my friends with kids that made me sane. And there was something about proving to the world that I wasn't afraid of living my life even though I had a kid.

Another friend who had her second baby around the same time I had Baby T would call me up, completely overwhelmed, and describe how she hadn't showered in days. She would tell me I was welcome to come over her house, even if it was just to cry. Cry? I thought. I was fine. I showered every day, exercised, and had time to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Have an other one? Sure. No sweat.

Flash forward 20 months. Cry all day? Check. Shower only once a week? Check.

Everyone told me how hard it was to have a baby. But no one had told me how hard it was to have two. I mean, people had joked about it. But so many people have two--and three, four, and five--kids, that I figured it couldn't be that bad. Especially if having one baby was so easy. Hell, if the Octomom could do it, I could too.

But the first few weeks at home with both kids was chaos, physically and emotionally. One one hand, all I wanted to do was sit and snuggle with my new Little M. But I felt so guilty for giving love to another baby. On top of it, Baby T was sick the first week, so he was a miserable wreck. In a way, that made it easier, because he didn't move around much. I was able to sit on the couch and nurse both kids.

I cried every day. I knew a lot of women who had had post partum depression with their second child. Now I knew why. I was afraid that I would fall into depression too, because I was so emotional. Everything was harder. When I had had Baby T, I had written down everything he did: every poop, pee, nursing, wakeup, and cry. With two kids under two, though, I could barely even feed Little M, much less record those feelings. I felt a lot of guilt. For both of my kids. I couldn't give Little M the same undivided attention I had given to his big brother, and I couldn't give Baby T the same undivided attention he had once had. Nursing sessions with Little M were cut short when Baby T threw a tantrum, and Baby T wouldn't let the poor kid sleep.

There were days that I struggled, wondering if I could really do this, wondering why people had more than one child, and feeling inadequate because women with less education, money, resources, and support did it all the time. I wish that someone had prepared me a little better. Not that it would have stopped me from having a second child, but because I would have been more prepared. But maybe it's just something you have to experience to believe. I probably would have waved away helpful advice from people telling me how overwhelmed I would be. I mean, I did fine with one baby--how hard could one more be?

You live and learn, I guess.

Luckily, the learning curve was pretty quick. I hate change, but after I fight the initial impetus, I ride the wave pretty easily. My pregnancy hormones must have regulated after two weeks, because the crying jags ended. It wasn't that having two kids got any easier, but the guilt went away. That made it easier to deal with Baby T when he threw a tantrum and Little M when he woke up crying and I couldn't get to him right away because I was bathing Baby T. Once my emotions were in check, I was able to figure it out. We have some little routines that we've established, and I wouldn't be able do it without wearing Little M in a baby carrier for the majority of the day.

And for so long, I kept saying it was so hard because they were so close in age. But then I would talk to a friend who had kids spaced four or five years apart, and she would say how hard it was because the older child now had to be driven to school and extracurricular activities, which left the baby crying in the backseat of the car while mom drove errands.

It is hard for everyone. I'm not a wuss. But I just wish someone would have sat me down and been honest with me about how difficult it was. Then I wouldn't have felt so crazy.

PRIORITIES

Right now, I'm sitting in my living room on an exercise ball with Little M in the Didymos wrap on my chest. When I look to my left, I see a cookbook, a folder with my tax info, a used cloth napkin, and Baby T's dirty fork and knife on the kitchen table; a stack of mail and some crayons on the buffet behind the couch; a semi-balled up newspaper page that Baby T was playing with on the couch, next to my camera; some info from my credit card on the floor next to me because it fell but I don't want to disturb Little M by picking it up; a water glass that I'm currently drinking out of next to a glass, empty except for the melting ice mixing with the iced coffee from earlier. When I look to my right, I see a toy dump truck on the floor, a cloth diaper cover on the side table that needs to be put away, and Little M's pants on the floor that I took off when I changed him. There are cloth diapers in the washing machine that I have to move to the dryer, but Little M always wakes up when I bend over to switch the laundry, so it's staying for now. I'm not even going to tell you what I see if I turn around, and I consider my house relatively clean.

I've gotten a few things done today. I took this cute picture, which is why the camera is still on the couch:

I spent the morning writing for a couple of crowdsourcing companies that I work for. I had two tabs open and would work on one task while the task for the other company, in another tab, was uploading or downloading. I managed to work a path through the home office to get to the computer to email my CPA. Then I tripped on the cord from the computer as I left the room, knocking the laptop onto the shredder and making a bit of a mess.

I am in a constant state of overwhelming chaos. I can't control the clutter and I always have 20 things on my to-do list. If I even bother to write it down. And if I don't lose it in the black hole that is my purse.

I have tried to corral this chaos. I signed up for FlyLady dot com about a month ago. I shined my sink. I put away my dishes. Every day, all day. It's a constant cycle. That's about as far as I could get, and I had to put aside some of my money-making work just to do that.

This is what is on my to-do list:

• try to make $30-$50 a day on crowdsourcing websites
• work on a freelance writing job I already have
• work on a couple of book chapters for the Natural Parents Network's cloth diapering book contest
• go to couponing websites to see if there are any good grocery deals this week or next
• do some meal planning for the week
• prepare a course outline for childbirth education classes
• work on a watercolor portrait painting I was commissioned to do
• create and launch a website for my portraits
• sew some slings
• sew some soakers
• meet with a friend about teaching babywearing classes
• organize and price items for yard sale this weekend
• put together the boys' Easter baskets
• start a breast milk stash for Little M; I keep planning to pump after he goes to bed, but have so much to do I forget
• exercise 10-15 minutes every day (not much, but it's a realistic start)
• take down our tornado shelter from Saturday:

And that is only the big stuff. It doesn't include switching the laundry, washing my OWN underwear, taking a shower, or figuring out what to do about Little M's Easter basket, because I completely forgot about him.

Oh yeah. And writing this blog post wasn't on my list, either.

This is my problem. I have a lot to do and don't know when to prioritize. It's all important, and sometimes it's hard to predict what should take precedence. Especially because when I work on those crowdsourcing websites doing writing and editing work, I just never know when there will be good work and when there won't. If there's a lot of high-paying work, I tend to focus on that and push everything else aside for a day when there is less work. That makes it hard to plan.

On top of it all, I have going back to work looming over my head. I have a month and a half left. At least during my loaded days, I have time to play with the kids, clean the house (at least a little) and get some necessary computer stuff done. And I feel busy now; if I go back to work, I won't even be able to do the little stuff. And I'll still want to do the big stuff.

I know moms do it all the time, but my question is: HOW [the F do you do it]? Big T has been sick and hasn't been sleeping, so I let him sleep in this morning while I got Baby T's lunch ready and took him to daycare. I did manage to have him clean up his toys before we left (i.e., he watched as I cleaned up his toys, meanwhile taking out 5 books from his bookshelf and throwing them on the floor). I also did clean the kitchen before I left so I wouldn't come home to a sticky mess.

But the last time I looked at the clock, it was 8:30, and I was thinking, "Cool. We'll totally get to day care before 9." And I got in the car at 8:56. It takes 20 minutes to get to day care. I was still in a white tank top with no bra on because Little M had been in the wrap all morning, and I hadn't combed my hair, brushed my teeth, or put on deoderant. At least I had the good sense to put my contacts in as soon as I woke up, before my day started.

So back to my question: If/when I go back to work, how am I going to do it without showing up completely disheveled, with a see-through shirt and no bra on? Am I honestly expected to also shower, put on makeup, and put together a business-casual outfit that's free of spitup, drool, or poo? The thought makes me want to vomit.

I can somewhat manage my days when I have the flexibility to build my own schedule. But there is no way I can get to work by 9. There is just no freaking way.

How do moms do it? Where do I start? Can I really put quality time into my two kids, work, and my extracurricular activities?

I guess this is just a big old whinefest. I don't really expect answers. Pleeeeeuuz don't tell me to go to FlyLady dot com, because that just takes way too much time. But if you feel like sending a vote of confidence, a million dollars, or a maid my way, I won't complain.

Mother's Day

My first mother's day with Baby T outside of my belly was perfect. It was a beautiful spring day and we spent it outside.

We woke up and played in the garden. Baby T is quite a helper.

Big T worked on a potting bench that he made for me for mother's day. He had been working on it in the garage all week and keeping it a suprise.

It even has a gutter and downspout to direct rainwater into my watering can!

Here are my boys:

 

We went to the pool after Baby T's 3 hour nap. That was a great mother's day present, Baby T.

 That's pretty much it. Baby T played outside some more with his "car":

And today I have to go to work. I'm going to miss my boys. I had the best mother's day ever.

THOSE MAGICAL MOMENTS

There are those moments in life that are so nostalgic that when you think back upon them they make you smile and tear up at the same time. In those moments, there is no future and there is no past, and you are contentedly nuzzled in the present. When you remember those moments, you’re filled with magic, and you get a knot in your gut knowing that you can never have them back, but you are fulfilled knowing that you were lucky to have experienced them.

• Waking up on Christmas morning at 9 years old, and running down the stairs with your sisters, delighted at the presents lined up by the fireplace.

• Playing hide and go seek at 10 years old, alone with your thoughts in your hiding spot, your heart pumping at the thought of being discovered, and your mind clear in this moment to yourself.

• The last day of school, when the sun is out, there is a fresh breeze, and you and your friends are scattering out the door with the entire summer ahead of you, knowing that tomorrow you will sleep late, run in the grass, and swim in the lake.

• Your first time traveling around Europe without your parents, awestruck at the world that’s right at your fingertips.

• Waking up in your tent on a camping trip in the spring, with the warm cocoon of your sleeping bag nestled against your body, the sun on the horizon and the smell of campfire lingering in the atmosphere, and a fresh chill in the air that cleanses your soul with one breath.

• Your first road trip—a car packed to the brim, a map in your hands, wind in your hair, songs, laughter, and aimless chatter for miles and miles, hours and hours.

• Moving into your new house. Nothing on the walls, no dust in the corners, fixtures sparkling. A blank canvas that is all yours on which to make your mark.

• Waking up after your first night with your first baby, exhausted, but filled with new life, marveling at the little person you helped create—you just can’t get enough of him—sun streaming into the room, a quiet retreat from the world where you could stay forever, just the three of you.

A Break From Reality

Our Trip to Punta Cana

Baby T, Big T and I spent last week in the Dominican Republic for some much needed R&R. I think it goes without saying that it was amazing. I didn't think about work until Tuesday, when all I thought was, "Wow--people are working right now, and I'm not. Ha!" And then I continued to down my pina colada and bask in the sunlight.

We met up with my parents, and my sister and her kids. It was a blast. I don't think I have ever seen Baby T happier. He loved everything: the water, the beach, his cousins, his aunt and grandparents.

Our little guy is quite the swimmer. The pools at the resort were the kind you could wade into, with a sloping bottom. Perfect for Baby T. He would crawl around in the shallow end, and when he got too deep and his face went under, well, he would try to keep going. He never inhaled any water or choked. He knew that he needed to hold his breath. And the best part was, he didn't care that his face was in the water! I think we have the next Michael Phelps on our hands (only better looking). And with more of a potbelly.

On the beach, Baby T was so independent. He loved playing with the sand toys and smashing sand castles. He didn't care that he had sand up to (and in) his ears. When his cousin A gave him a great big hug (i.e. tackled him and pushed him face down into the sand), he came up smiling.

He grew up a lot on this trip, too. The baby who was barely eating solids before we left ate just about everything I offered him at every meal. Since it was buffet style dining, and we sat down to 3 meals a day together (ok, we pretty much spent the entire time eating if we weren't at the pool or on the beach), I think Baby T got used to seeing people eat. And he wanted to eat too. The little man is still a huge fan of bananas, but tried beans, grilled chicken, lamb (loved it), plantains - fried sweet ones and mashed savory ones, mashed potatoes, carrots... He also became a big fan of the snack trap. So did I, for that matter. Did you know that a snack trap and some cheerios can keep your baby entertained for hours at a time?

Baby T also perfected his waving and pointing skills.

Everyone at the resort--employees and guests alike--would stop in their tracks when they saw him. They would wave to him and say hello, hug him, kiss him. It was unbelievable. So he figured out that he could sit by the edge of the pool and wave to everyone that walked by. He would raise his hand and yell "AH!" (which means "hi" in  Baby T speak). If someone walked by and didn't say hello (which happened rarely), he would keep his eye on them, wondering what their freaking problem was. "Um, hello? I'm cute over here?" The little man loves attention. It's possible that he's practicing for a future in politics. Or as a religious leader.

TANGENT--When T was 3 months old, I brought him to my friend's wedding shower. A 3 year old there kept calling Baby T "Baby Jesus". I have no idea why.Then, a few weeks ago, at a restaurant, a woman stopped in her tracks and commented on "What a little angel" Baby T was. At the resort in the DR, one of the employees called him "An angel from God". And when we got back, when my neighbor was watching Baby T on Tuesday, I guess he was talking up a storm and waving his arms around, and her 4 year old son said, "He's preaching!" Is someone trying to tell me something? Maybe my little guy is just going to be quite influential. Maybe he'll be the next Stephen Gaskin. I always wanted to live on The Farm.../TANGENT

Now that we're back from our vacay, reality has hit us like a ton of bricks. I'm not a fan. The boogers are back, laundry and dishes are piling up, idiots keep calling complaining about their free stuff, and I keep forgetting to buy cat food. Bring me some sun and sand and a pina colada, though, and I'll be fine.

Adventures of a (Former) Stay at Home Dad

Big T got a job this week. We are all excited, yet a little bit sad about it. His stay at home dad days are over for now. He's excited to get out of the house and have some adult interaction, but he really misses Baby T. And Baby T really misses him. I miss the fun stories and emails and pictures I would get while working. In honor of this end of an era, I've included the best and funniest stay at home dad anecdotes below. These are different emails that I've gotten at work while Big T and Baby T were at home living it up.

At the park, when Baby T tried out the swing for the first time:
Ummmm dad? I don't mean to alarm you, but I think someone is following me.

This one made me laugh so hard I was crying:
Subject: My inner monologue of the past 5 minutes

Holy hell we have an explosion! This is not a drill people! Code BROWN. I need all hands on the poop deck. This job is too big for wipes we need to put the subject in the decontamination tub stat. Oh jesus he's peeing on the floor. Wait is that poop on my hand? Oh god its spreading. Now its on the shower curtain. Its worse then I thought we need a containment unit now! The subject is escaping unclothed. Don't worry about that now I have shit everywhere. Put a diaper on him for christs sake. Situation is resolved.

Shortly after we started Baby T on solids:
So I could just smell what was going on in your sons pants from across the room. Isn't there anyway we could keep him on just breast milk for 4 or 5 more years?

After a growth spurt:
And its officially time to retire the vibrating chair. I think its funny that he's still trying to watch Sid [the Science Kid on TV]

Bath Time Fun:
So I was using that little green frog and suctioning it to his knees and tummy and when he would grab it it would un-suction and would squeak and he would giggle. But once again Daddy took it a little too far.

Soon after learning to crawl:

The kid just crawled head first straight into the corner of a wall. So don't be shocked by a little bump/ bruise when you get home.

During Baby T's nursing strike when I made Big T feed him with a cup instead of the bottle:

He has done half bottle half cup. I start with the cup but once he either starts to fall asleep or grabs the cup and pours it on his head I know its time to lie down with a bottle. 

And this one requires me to give you a little background.

Background: In the middle of the night one night, Big T suddenly woke me up, saying, "What was that noise?" I hadn't heard anything, so I told him not to worry about it and to go to sleep. But he seemed a little freaked out. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Ten minutes later, I heard the biggest crash I have ever heard in my life. I mean, the entire house shook. The only thought racing through my mind was that Baby T's crib had imploded on him. I jumped up, fumbling for my glasses on the nightstand while Big T jumped over the bed in one fell swoop. I was yelling, "What the F, what the F what the F" (or something to that effect.) We raced to the front of the house and into the nursery, where Baby T was sleeping safe and sound. I scooped him up and hugged him to me, relieved, but Big T was still freaking out. I told him everything was ok, Baby T is fine, but he said we had to figure out what the noise was.

It turns out it was the big green frog that was suction cupped to the side of the tub holding up the tub toys. The suction cups had let loose and the frog and all the toys had fallen into the tub, echoing through the house. Big T later told me that #1). He thought someone was living in our attic and had crashed through the ceiling and #2). All he could understand of what I was saying after we heard the crash was MULUAH MULUAH MULUAH!

So one day, he emails me:

"I wish you would have told me when we were trying to get pregnant that there was a good chance you would give birth to the anti christ. Ooops wait his head just spun around and he spewed asparagus soup. He's definitely possessed. Actually I think I just figured it out. On the first Sunday of the winter solstice at midnight if you scream MULUHA MULUHA MULUHA! Your offspring becomes a liquid leaking fang growing nocturnal demon child. Damn you and your wiccaness."

Happy Holidays!

*Sigh* So I am finally able to sit down at the computer now that the holiday season is drawing to a close. We were busy: traveling to Memphis for Thanksgiving, preparing for Baby T's first Christmas, and trying to get some sleep on New Year's Eve.

There is something magical about this season when you're a kid. Your whole family is together, you wake up early on Christmas morning, and you spend the day cozy inside your childhood home. Once you're older, you're busy visiting different family members or wishing you could all be together. You try to sleep as late as possible, and you pack up the car several times--with presents to give, and later, presents to bring home. It's different than it used to be.

On Christmas Eve Big T and I were scrambling to decide where Santa would leave the presents. Our stockings were hung on the entertainment center above the TV. We don't have a fireplace. We decided that we didn't want Baby T thinking Santa comes in through the TV, so we decided to leave the presents by the back door. Thus begins the tradition. Who needs a fireplace anyway? We made it easier for Santa.

Baby T opening his first Christmas present ever:

A little overwhelmed by all of the presents:

My little elf:

And our little Christmas miracle--Even though we had been waiting for Baby T to start crawling on Thanksgiving, since he had been dragging himself around the room on his elbows for several weeks now, he finally did start crawling on Christmas day: