never a dull moment...

London, our 5 year old, ran up to me with a sudden urgency. Her pointer finger extended. Of course, I'm thinking something happened to cause her some kind of harm (her drama indicator was on the lower end, so I knew there must not be any blood involved). No tears is also a sign that it must not be too bad, whatever it is.

"Mom! What is this? Smell it!" 

I bend down to smell the extended pointed finger. Mistake #1: I'm much more seasoned than this. I should know better.

"Yuck! What did you get into?"  

"I just scratched my butt and now it stinks." 

Lesson learned: Even though eagerly prompted, under no circumstances are you to smell fingers!

 

Thankful...

Does this conversation sound familiar to any of you? 'Tis the season!

"Look at this, Mom! I've never seen it anywhere else. We were just at Lakeville's Target and they didn't have it. Even Toys R US is out of stock. Can I puuuuullllleeeeasse get it?"

"It's so close to Christmas. Let's go home right now and put it on your list!"

"But it'll be gone by then. No one will get it in time. I'll use my own money. (The big tears start filling up the eyes, the whining begins). PUUUUULLLLEEEASSSE Mom! Everyone will have it and I won't. I wish I had Josh's life. His parents would buy it. He has a pool, an Xbox AND PS3. He has all those games too! You know...The ones you won't buy! My life totally sucks. His parents don't care about anything. 

As parents, it's so hard to hear the words, "Everyone will have it except me"....There is a part of us that remembers being young and how important it is to just fit in. We want our kids to fit in. We don't want to alienate them from their friends or their sense of "normal".

However, I also strongly believe in keeping things simple for our kids. So much of our society is absorbed in "keeping up with the Jones'" and while I wish I could have vacation homes in warm places and BMW's and in- ground pools, I don't. But I do have a nice, warm house. I have a turkey dinner on my table. I have a loving family and clothes on my back and a little money in my pocket (Ok, this sounds like bad lyrics from an old song?!). For these things, I'm an eternally grateful. This is a lesson I want my kids to learn too. It's not about keeping up with their friends. It's about being content and grateful for what we do have. It's about sharing our time and wealth with others who are not as fortunate.

It's hard not to covet your neighbor, but every time I do, I try to remember how lucky I am. In this world, there will always be someone who has more than me, but there is also someone who has a lot less. My wish for my family this year is that we find the ones who have a lot less and try to make their holiday season as memorable and warm as ours.

UPDATE: By the way, Dr Phil calls "Overindulgence the worst form of child abuse"...so, it's not about not having the money, it's about making a conscious decision NOT to spend it! And the holidays are the best example of this. I think it's a great time to teach our kids that just because they have a full wish list doesn't mean they get it all.

Crawling

I know! I know! One post is about my adolescent boy, the next about my baby. Seriously! What were we thinking?!

But I just had to share this: Leyton is so close to crawling. You know, up on all fours, rocking back and forth. While we're so excited for this next stage, we're also terrified. We've never had so many stairs (steep, steep stairs) with toddlers before. London was one when we moved into this house and she was so capable of maneuvering the stairs. Even then, we did have a couple of incidents where she went flying down them. Me, quickly behind her but unable to grasp her. Both of us crying by the time we reached the bottom.

London has been so excited to witness each new stage Leyton enters. To this day, she'll still come get me, practically screaming, when Leyton rolls over. "He did it, Mom! He's such a big boy! He rolled over all by himself." It's hard not to get caught up in her excitement, but he has mastered this skill for at least the last four months now. In fact, he can make it from one end of the house to the other by simply rolling back and forth. He is totally mobile with this skill alone.

So, now that he's working so hard on crawling, London is equally thrilled. She can't wait! In one of her moments of excitement, I told her, "Wow! If he figures this out, our Christmas tree isn't going to be safe this year." And she ponders this, looks at me somewhat confused and asks, "Why?" After explaining how busy moving babies can be, I add, "And he's going to be ripping open everyone's presents." Well, this completely ticked her off and she replies, "He's not going to open mine." Me: "Why do you think he'll leave yours alone?" She says, "Well....duh, Mom....They say 'London' on mine."

So, the girl who is so excited over crawling and rolling over also thinks her baby brother can read!

Adolescence

I have an adolescent child. A boy, on the cusp of the teen years; Raging hormones, emotional roller coasters, girls, long showers,girls, endless hours spent in front of the mirror, combing hair, girls.

I don't know what happened to my sweet child, but a sullen alien has replaced him at my dinner table. I feel like I've embarked on a some kind of enemy territory. A foreign land. Both of us learning a new art form: One wanting independence, one learning to let go.

As parents, we've been taught for years how important it is to keep the lines of communication open from the beginning, so when our children grow and are faced with overwhelming obstacles and challenges, we are approachable. They feel comfortable talking to us when it really matters and the stakes are high.

"How was your day?"

"Fine"

"What did you have for lunch?"

"I don't remember"

"What do you have for homework tonight?"

"Why are you asking me so many questions?"

This conversation leaves me wondering:

How can I do this better? 

Will he come to me in regards to girls and drugs when he won't even tell me what he had for lunch?

Then, it happens...When I least expect it. We're getting in the car, heading to a school event, just the two of us. The two car doors slam in unison. 

"Thank God we're alone! I need to talk to you about...."

I try not to appear too giddy. I don't want him to think I care too much. I don't want to appear needy. I try not to talk too much. Just Listen...Just Listen....Just Listen....I keep chanting to myself. 

For the full 10 minute car ride, we had this deep and meaningful conversation in the darkness of our car, the dash lights reflecting off his face. 

During this time of "Boy Becomes Man", when nothing I do feels right, I had a moment. Just a sliver of time where it felt like maybe....just maybe....all my effort and time invested might pay off. 

My 16 Year Old Self

Logan was at the counter, finishing up homework. London, beside him, doing her favorite craft project. Music playing in the background. A jabbering, bouncing baby on my hip. The dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

The above describes a "moment" I had today. Time seemed to stand still. I stood back and took it all in. "Life is so, so good" I thought to myself. My cup runneth over.

During this moment, I wanted to tell my 16 year old self the true definition of happiness because "she" thinks happiness is a destination she will only reach by getting into the "right" college, or making the "right" amount of money, or driving her favorite foreign import. She has no idea how simple it really is. She has no idea that in a few years a moment like this will bring her to her knees in gratitude (and not just because it was so rare that the children were sitting beside each other and NOT fighting!).

I'd like to tell her how much her husband will adore her. How she really will stumble upon a true love story. I want her to know that he'll look at her at the strangest times and tell her she's beautiful (and she'll be wearing sweats and not one once of makeup. She may not have even showered that day). He'll know all her faults and not only love her despite them, but because of them. He'll tell her Garth Brooks song "She's Every Woman" was written with her in mind. He'll love her so much that it'll scare her.

And together, they will raise three beautiful children. She may question her faith, but I want her to know that she'll see God, she'll actually look Him in the eye, the moment each of her children are born. She's going to love to watch them sleep and grow and change. She's going to love playing Santa and baking cookies and wrapping presents. She will always stop what she's doing to watch her husband play with the kids. I want her to know that watching each baby achieve their "firsts" never gets old. When they roll over for the first time, she will cry.

Babies will change her body. She will no longer be the size 2 she once was, but surprisingly, she will learn to appreciate her new curves. She'll realize that some jeans just aren't worth giving up chocolate for and she'll be ok with that. Believe it or not, she won't find the "boyish" body of her past very attractive anymore.

Some day, she'll grow up and move away. Then she'll realize how much she likes her parents. It'll take some time, but she'll realize how much they loved her, how deeply they wanted the best for her, and everything they did was only with her best interest in mind. The most important thing I'd want to tell my 16 year old self is that after she has children of her own, she'll see her parents mistakes in a whole new light. She'll become a lot more forgiving when she sees how hard it really is to raise a child.

Most importantly, I'd like to tell her how happiness isn't a destination, but a state of being. A feeling of contentment. I want to tell her to stop looking in all the wrong places. Just breathe. Relax. She WILL get there.

Apple Snob!

I've raised an apple snob! No, really...It's true!

Ever since the beginning of Fall...A trip to the apple orchard and some apple sampling...it became apparent that London isn't going to settle for a mere, every day apple. She has standards and they are H.I.G.H (we can only hope her apple picking expertise extends into the men she chooses to date!).

For lunch today, I cut up an apple and placed the beautiful, fleshy fruit in front of her with the perfect red/green/yellow color ratio. With her beautiful baby blues cast upwards, she says, "Mom, is this a Sweet Tango?" Now her love of the Sweet Tango has caused me to do some research and they are only available in the early, early part of Fall but we have been surprised a few times and found a small stash in the most unlikeliest of places. So, her love affair has been extended past their normal picking season.

But on this day, I say, "No...I think it's a Honeycrisp." She is not impressed. In fact, she won't even touch it, which drives this mother insane. The apple she begged for a few moments ago (the discarded one now) is not cheap.

So, I say, "You better not think you're going to waste a perfectly fine apple." And the easy-going child she is, relents and very slowly devours the less-than-superior apple.

Now her snobbiness isn't just in brand alone...She will follow me around the apple section, picking the prettiest fruit. At each apple barrel, she will say, "Mom are these Sweet Tangos?"...."Ok, how about these ones?" She will dig far and wide in hopes of finding a hidden, secret dash. We did get lucky one day at our local grocery store. Her eyes lit up...She ran to get the biggest produce bag she could find....She filled it up. She had no regard for the fact that my grocery bill just went up by $50 because of apples. And ever since that day, when an inferior apple is placed in front of her, she will say, "Mom, remember that day when I found all the Sweet Tangos?"

"Yes, Honey, I remember. It was a good day!"

And a apple snob was created!

Doggie Dreams

I love dogs. I love our dog.

But something has changed around here and I'm not sure how it happened. You see, each night, Emme was let outside one final time and then put in her crate for the night.

Then, one July night, during our normal 3 mile walk (Nothing like a giant, full-of-energy dog to motivate a person to walk more!), she was staggering and struggling a bit. She couldn't make it home. Her hips had given out. This was something we never experienced before. I was used to her boundless energy and athleticism. After all, she's only two years old.

On this night, she was allowed to sleep on the floor by our bed so we could watch her closely. She didn't even move. A trip to the vet. A "hip dysplasia" diagnosis. And she's still sleeping on our floor. beside our bed. And..wait...if I look closer, there's something there that wasn't there before...what is that? A gigantic dog bed made out of Memory Foam? Oh my! Don't. Even. Ask...It must have been a weak, weak moment because those things are NOT cheap!

Ok, this sleeping beside our bed really isn't the problem. The problem lies with HOW she sleeps. She is the quietest dog I have ever met...Not kidding...She doesn't bark...EVER! You can come to my front door, ring the door bell....She doesn't bark. She will stand and look at you, tail wagging, huge smile on her face (you can see it, can't you? One of those big Golden Retriever grins?), but not a sound will come from her.

So, how can this quiet dog because such a NOISY sleeper? I swear she's making up for lost time...She dreams. loudly. She pants, whinnies like a horse, gallops through fields (or so we imagine), she huffs and puffs. And have I mentioned how LOUD it is? Like I'm afraid she's going to wake the kids...and she doesn't startle out of these dreams easily. The kind-of-whispering-but-you-know-i-mean-business "EMME!" doesn't wake her. Most times, I have to nudge her awake. So, now you guessed it, I'm awake too! Arrrr....And if you've been paying attention, you know how much sleep is a rare commodity around here.

I love dogs. I love our dog. I HATE doggie dreams!

Love and Logic

Most of my parenting woes begin with the words, "How can I do this better?" Many times, it keeps me up at night, wondering if there's some secret code I'm missing.

But tonight...On this day...I got it right! And I mean, I really, really nailed it. And it wasn't one of those "tough love" moments which leaves both of us feeling rotten, even if it is for the greater good of the person we're raising. It was a moment, just one line, actually, which ended an argument with our oldest child.

To him, we're the strictest parents. It's a common argument in the Garry Household. If we're not trying to ruin his life, we're holding him hostage by our rules. Normally, we would enter this conversation, once again, reiterating our moral and value system...things he HAS to have memorized by now. To be honest, I'm sick of hearing myself say it anymore.

But on this night...I saw the warning signs...I knew where his foul mood was going...And I nipped it in the bud! It started off like it normally does..."Why can't I have that video game? Everyone has it. I'm not a baby, you know. Let me lead my own life!" (I particularly like this statement coming from my 11 year old. I find it hilarious! And maybe myself reflected in his eyes).

And honestly, I saw it differently this time. I don't know what it was...maybe divine intervention...but I was truly empathetic. It didn't change my value system, but I did see it from his point of view...And this isn't even the most amazing part yet...

I said in response, looking him in the eye, holding his hand, "I'm sure it feels that way to you. I can totally see how it would feel that way."

I think his mouth may have dropped open. He was speechless. He loves to garner a reaction out of his mother. In fact, nothing pleases him more, I'm certain. And even though he invited me to partake in his argument, I didn't accept!

However, i have to give credit where credit is due. We're using some techniques from "Love and Logic" and it has worked wonders with our kids. It can be applied at any age (and I think the younger, the better) and it has dramatically improved our relationship with Logan for many reasons, but mainly because I've realized as his parent that he is responsible for his own behavior. And while I can give him all the tools and skill set needed, it's still up to him to choose the behavior. But most importantly, I've realized that even if he does fail and make mistakes, which he will inevitably do, I will still love him. We let logical consequences take place and it has let me off the hook per say. It's not my job to make sure homework is done or he passes 5th grade or gets into college. It's up to him.

I've realized I can be his parent again. And I can love him for him.

Fried Eggs and Bacon

What do married women do more than single women?

DIET!

It's true...but not entirely shocking, is it? I mean, I don't know the last time I came across a married who was comfortable with her weight. She's either working out 2 hours every day or on some crazy diet.

I am now a statistic. I've had a terrible time shedding the extra pounds since the birth of baby #3. I know babies change our bodies, but this one RUINED it. And you can say all you want about how beautiful the body is of a woman who has given life three times, but I lose all sense of reason and logic when the clothes off (or when I have to shop for new clothes because nothing else fits!). I've never had a huge issue with weight, which is why I can't quite believe I'm here and I don't know how this happened. Regardless, it's time to get a handle on it.

Before I got pregnant this last time, i lost some weight on Belly Fat Cure. It's a low carb diet. It was the first time where I felt motivated to eat healthier because the pounds just fell off...Seriously! Every day, I felt lighter and I thought the plan was really easy to follow. I never felt deprived.

So, I decided to try it again. And it's harder....And I miss chocolate...And I'm SO sick of eating eggs and bacon every day. In fact, I am so sick of them that I had a serving of Doritos for breakfast this morning:
 1 Carb, 2 sugars! Yippee!

quite possibly the worst thing about being a parent...

and it's not what you think: it's not the sleeplessness, or endless dirty diapers, or vomit, or the astronomical cost of formula.

It's daycare!

In the last few months, I've had friends returning to work after the birth of their babies. Some of them wish they could stay home full-time, others are ready to head back to the work force, some are anxious and torn about being in one place while their child is in another. They are terrified of not finding that "balance"..(Balance? What balance? I have yet to discover it!)

I think I've been in all 3 camps. Working or staying home is never an easy choice to make and I often think that if daycare costs weren't so high and it didn't come down to numbers in the end, what kind of choice would I make? We have fiscally reached the point where the number of children we have versus the kind of money I could bring home after daycare costs made the decision for us.

But I do remember quite well when I was in the wild throes of it. Oh, the decisions to make!!!

Trying to find the perfect combination of loving care with a bottom line that makes sense. The two don't normally go hand-in-hand. I found a center I loved...I mean, I really, really loved it. I still do! When I think back on those days, it's only fondly. They were so good to my kids and the director was amazing. Did I mention how much I like video surveillance? But it wasn't cheap! After paying for daycare each week, I think only brought home something like $25. I'm not kidding...But this is how I looked at it: I pay for quality in a pair of jeans, I will pay more for a reliable vehicle, so why in the world would I not do the same when it came to child care? The people who are spending the majority of their day with my children? But after paying the hefty price tag each week, the time came where we needed to make some decisions. And we decided it was best if I was home. Not sure who decided my sanity wasn't worth something...but here we are! (only kidding, of course! I do enjoy being home for the kiddos!). 


And have I mentioned how jealous I am of those who don't actually have to pay for daycare? You are the luckiest bunch in the whole wide world! You get to leave for work each day knowing that your kids are in good hands (after all, they probably raised you!) AND keep your paycheck--WIN, WIN!

So, I'm just wondering how much easier it would be if daycare wasn't part of the parenting equation?

The importance of being "lived in"

Recently, a divorced friend of mine became an "empty-nester"....Her and I are very similar in our personalities. She loves a neat and tidy house, she's orderly, her expectations of all relationships are clear-cut and well-known, she's very forward and not afraid to express her true feelings--almost to a fault at times. 

For as long as I've known her, she's always complained about how her house has never stayed clean for more than hour. How she cleans and cleans and cleans to no avail. It never stays that way! I think any mother can relate to her anguish. Our efforts feel futile at times. However, her and I are different in the sense that our house HAS to be clean (really! I'm not kidding! Ask my kids!!!). It causes us great anxiety to have things out of order, in disarray. We should probably be medicated! :D

Upon one of our first meetings since her last child left for college (Number 4!), I asked her how it felt to walk into her clean, just-as-i-left-it, not-a-thing-out-of-place house and her answer surprised me. In fact, I almost fell out of my chair. She said, "It's awful"..."why?" I ask. I mean here I had been a little bit jealous that a). She now has all the time in the world to clean her house and b). it stays that way--Like a dream come true in my world! 

"It's not lived-in anymore. I keep walking into the bathroom to pick up towels off the floor and then remember that no one lives here anymore. I go grocery shopping to stock the fridge and the milk goes sour because no one lives here anymore. I could feed the local Banquet with my leftovers. I don't know how to cook for one. I make these gigantic casseroles and then remember no one lives here anymore." 

I watched her eyes fill with tears and I saw so much sadness in the fine lines on her face. The jealousy I was feeling a mere moment before quickly left and was replaced by grief. 

I'm one who believes there are no accidents in life. Everything happens for a reason. Every day is filled with "teachable" moments. On this day, she taught me the importance of being "lived-in"....How short-lived "lived-in" is...and the relevance of the "lived-in" moment. 

So, while it's not easy to "teach an old dog new tricks", I am trying to overlook the mess (as much as I can!) and remember that this too shall pass and to LIVE IN the moment...

Sleep is overrated!

I suspected this would happen--it's bound to! After all, there is 10 years between our oldest child and our youngest.

Let me explain...Last night, Logan (our oldest) asked if he could be "dropped off" at open gym last night. This request was followed by a series of phone calls, whom I suspected were mainly from girls. This is new territory for us...Like we've stumbled upon a foreign land. I'm not very good at merely "dropping off"...I prefer to chaperone, but I know it's best to learn the art of letting go now. So, it seemed innocent enough. I wasn't even too worried. Then I dropped him off. I watched a circle of screaming girls surround him. I looked around and didn't see a single parent anywhere nearby. I started to worry. Caught up in my own nervousness, I realized I was holding up traffic, so I quickly exited the parking lot. As I rounded the corner, headed for home, my mind began a series of "what ifs"...So, I thought to myself, "What harm could there be in just driving by one more time to make sure he got in ok and that he doesn't need me." So, I circled the gym one time, rounded the corner (again!) and headed for home. I got to the same intersection and thought, "Maybe I should just see if he's waiting for me ONE time. Then this is it...seriously! No more stalking him!" So, I did. I circled the parking lot, hoping to catch of glimpse of him, but nothing. Then I rounded the corner (AGAIN!) and headed for home. I was tempted to drive by just once more, but this time I was going to sneak in and observe for a bit. Then decided against it. He would be mad and embarrassed and I really need to learn to let go a little bit. Reluctantly, I went home and never has 40 minutes taken so long to pass. 

Picked him up promptly at 9, he seemed a little off, but nothing he was willing to share with his mother! And did I mention he was also totally embarrassed to be dropped of in a minivan? Oh man! Where did my baby go? How did this happen? All I did was blink...I swear!

Then as I'm rehashing the night in my head, wondering how I can do this better, I dozed off to sleep. I awoke at midnight...Normally, Leyton wakes up for a feeding around this time, so I laid there and waited for his familiar cries, but heard nothing. I dozed off a bit more, woke again at 1 AM and waited. This time, I woke up Brad to ask if he'd gotten up to feed him. Nope! So, I laid there, unable to sleep--worried he was in trouble, but more worried I'd risk waking him up if I checked on him. He's never slept more than 6 hours at a time. He was pushing 8 hours. Then 3 AM rolled around, I'm still awake and really worried now. It's been almost 10 hours. He's dead, I'm certain of it. So, I decide I'd rather risk waking him and I tip toe into his room. He's sound asleep, snoring softly.

As I climb back into bed, I reflect back on our day. It felt like I've gone from one end of the spectrum to another. A boy on the cusp of the teen years, dealing with girls and drop-offs and a baby just learning to sleep through the night. How did this happen? Between the tweenager and the baby, I may never sleep again!

Em

"I strive to be the kind of person my dog already believes me to be"--Anonymous

I am one of those weirdos who firmly believes every child should grow up with a dog. It teaches them responsibility, compassion, empathy and unconditional love. Ok, maybe we're lacking a tad bit in the "responsibility" category, but we're working on it! And, yes, dogs are lots of work (sometimes more than the kids themselves) and they are expensive, but I don't regret one moment of it.

And we couldn't have found a more perfect fit for our family than Em. She's so loving and mellow. Just a gentle soul. A big marshmallow.

Up to this point in life, I've always been a small dog person. Then Logan talked me into getting a big dog. I was very reluctant. The hair, the mess, my poor hardwood floors (which are completely ruined, I might add!). Now, I can't quite imagine life without her. In fact, it's even hard for me realize that, more than likely, a day will come when she's no longer with us. She's a part of our family...Emotionally connected to each of us. When I see London wrap her arms around her neck each afternoon following preschool, or Logan curled up in his bed reading with her by his side, or Leyton with handfuls of her hair...I know we've done the right thing. And I'll never forget the time that I was sobbing in Brad's arms...And I mean, I was a wreck...And I felt pressure on my leg. I looked down and Em was sitting beside me, resting her head against me. It was as if she was just quietly letting me know she was here too.

The 3rd Child

You know what I love about having a third child?

#1:  I value our time together a little more than I did with the previous two because I know how quickly it goes. When I lay him down each night, I take it all in because I know when he wakes in the morning, he'll look different. He will have grown up a a little bit more. If I blink, I might miss something. And I don't want to miss anything! Even as the baby is suffering through his first cold and fever of his short little life, even though he's waking us up every hour (Or as Brad says, "It's pretty hard to say he's "waking us up" when we never even get the chance to go back "down"), there is such a tenderness in the wee hours of the morning. As his fever broke around midnight and he was wide awake and the happiest he had been in about 48 hours, he was pure sweetness. I couldn't turn away, I couldn't force him to go back to bed. I just laid on the floor with him and listened to his coos and gurgles. This too shall pass. And I don't want to miss it.

#2: I don't worry as much (or maybe at all!). I don't rush him to the pediatrician at the first sign of a fever, I don't bundle him up as if we live on the North Pole, I know that letting him cry for a few minutes is not going to hurt him nor make him reject me. I don't worry about development anymore. When other babies his age are reaching their milestones faster than him, I know it will come...All flowers bloom in their own time...And, he, too, will grow into his own in his own time.

#3: Probably the most important lesson I've learned is one the older kids have taught me and it's the one I value above all else. Each child is born with their own personality. Their own unique way of seeing the world. And no matter how much I may have envisioned them differently or thought our personalities would mesh better one way or another, I have realized I can do nothing to change who they are. I just have to let go and ride the wave and find the little things about each of them that I love. And when you focus on all the little things you love, you stumble upon something big...

Date Night

Ever since having Baby #3 more than seven months ago, Brad and I just haven't had the opportunity for many date nights. Ok, truth be told, we haven't had a single date in over a year. I know this sounds neglectful of our marriage and we've heard all the agruments: Take care of your marriage for your children's sake, the best gift you can give your kids is two parents who love and respect each other, and (the scariest of them all) you'll get divorced when the kids have grown because you've forgotten how to be husband and wife. Plus, we've recently been told by lots of friends (with the best of intentions, of course) how we need to plan these formal date nights twice per month complete with a sitter to keep our marriage on the right track.  And it got me thinking...

There is lots to be said in regards to some alone time with your spouse. I completely understand. It does renew our sense of purpose and goals. It does help us to realize, once again, that we do like each other and we're married for the right reasons. It does validate our relationship.

And while a formal date night here and there is nice, it's not always realistic. There are schedules, money, and needs to be met. And I'm just not very good at leaving my kids in someone else's care. It's a fault of mine, I know, but I have to know and trust a person fully to comfortably leave my kids. No mere teenager will do. Also, a date night twice per month gets extremely expensive, even if everything we choose to do is free, there is still a sitter at my house getting $10 per hour. So, this got me thinking about our life and how we can economically meet our needs as husband and wife. Then it dawned on me, really...Almost like a brick falling out of the sky and landing on my head! We may not get many formal "dates" but we carve time out of every single day to spend time together alone. It may not be fancy, it may not be formal, but it does work for us. We have always found time, even if it's only a half hour, to connect emotionally to one another. To sit on the couch and rehash our day, to hold hands and make eye contact, and talk. It is the secret to our happy life together. We make the time every.single.day.

Texting....

Texting just may be the BEST invention EVER!!!

I've realized since I became an avid "texter" that I don't really like talking on the phone. In fact, when someone actually calls me, I look at caller ID and think, "Now who in the world is actually calling me? Text me, for crying out loud!"

This is what I love: It allows brief conversations that are very much "to-the-point"...I mean, is there anything more annoying than small talk? For instance, when the University of Mn calls me and I answer and they say, "Hello, Mrs. Garry! How are you?" As if we know each other...it annoys me. Now, if the nice U of MN employee had just text'd me, it would go something like this, "Hey! We looked back through our records and it looks like you graduated from our fine university in May of 2000. You should be making tons of money by now, so how about a donation of some kind?" Then I could text back and say, "Sorry, no one pays stay-at-home moms very much. Maybe next year!"

The Perfect Mother....MYTH #2

The "perfect" mother keeps up with scrapbooks, fills the baby book with important dates and milestones, and she DEFINITELY saves the downy clippings of baby's first haircut....

Guess where my baby's clippings are? In the garbage!

But before you judge me, let me make an important argument. My mom offered me my clippings as a full-fledge, been- married- a- long- time, mother-myself adult and I immediately threw them away. I didn't feel any sort of connection to my first clippings. There wasn't an "awww" moment but more of a "Wow! You saved this for all these years? Why???" moment.

So, while I love my children more than my own life, they are just going to have to realize that I'm not perfect, hence, they will never receive little bundles of hair  from me. And don't even get me started on saving gross baby teeth...Not in this house! Not EVER!!! The tooth fairy will stop and make a visit and on her way out the door, she will drop those teeth in the garbage!

Someday

I know the day will come when my kids will realize they like me too...Maybe even as much as they like their father.  I just sometimes wish that day was sooner rather than later...

Here's an example: London really wants to see "Dolphin Tale" and my husband truly believes it will be a waste of precious pennies and time to see it in the theater. So, I offer up my pennies and time in hopes of seeing her eyes light up at the opportunity. I bring it up to her....

Me: London, I've really been wanting to see that movie too. Will you go with me?
London: Um, Ok....Will daddy be coming too?
Me: Not this time honey because someone needs to stay home with Leyton. Babies aren't allowed at movies.
London: Hmmm...Ok. (I can totally tell she's not convinced I'm the epitome of "fun")

About an hour passes since this conversation...

London: Mom, are you SUUUURRRREEEE you want to see this movie? After all, it's really sad and I don't think you'd enjoy a sad movie.
Me: You really want Daddy to go with, huh?
London: I'm sorry, mom, but I kinda do.

Sigh....Someday!

The Perfect Mother...MYTH #1

Today, I was asked the question, "What kind of myths did you have about "The Perfect Mother" before you actually became a mother?" Oh wow! This is a loaded question...where do I begin?

For starters, I was a much better mother before I actually became one. Does that even make sense? I was pretty certain I had it all figured out. And for those of you leaving full shopping carts in the middle of an aisle to take a screaming toddler to the car? Well, you obviously have it all wrong and that was NEVER going to happen to me! Ha!!! Then my own children were born....And with them came their own personalities, their own joys and challenges, their own rewards and disappointments, their own temperaments. And no matter how much "nurture" you bestow upon them, they still have their own unique "nature" running through their veins, which can either work for or against you at times.

MYTH #1: The Perfect Mother Stays Home

When I was in 5th grade, we had just moved to a new city for a job transfer. This new job (actually business ownership) meant my parents were both working long hours, which was an adjustment from the old schedule I was used to, so I had more "alone" time than I did previously. I remember walking home from school during the first week of Fall with a new friend. I asked her if she wanted to come over to my house and play. She said, "Well, I have to go home and ask my mom first." I remember this pang of jealously. I've never forgotten it. I was envious that she had a mother home while I was left digging in the bottom of my backpack for my house key. She came home to somebody, I came home to an empty house. And as any dreamy 5th grader, I envisioned her mom in an apron, baking cookies, glass of milk on the table, eagerly awaiting her daughter's arrival home from school. Now, I highly doubt any of the above happened, but I believed  she was FAR luckier than I was and the grass was definitely greener! So, since 5th grade, "the perfect mother" stayed home with her kids. She didn't work.

For the past 11 years (the duration of my "motherhood"), I have bounced back and forth between working and staying home. No matter what position I've held at the time, stay-at-home mom or career woman, I've always felt a sense of guilt that I wasn't doing something right, fully, completely, or correctly. If I was here, I wasn't there. If I was home, I wasn't contributing to the family budget. If I'm working, I'm not fulfilling anything 100%...Everything and everyone is only getting partial attention. And while I'm so thankful staying home is a choice I have (but like I've said in many, many previous posts, it's not one that doesn't come without some serious sacrifice, both emotionally and financially), I've realized that this chapter in our life is so short. There are times (ok, maybe most of the time) where it feels like we'll never sleep again, we'll never stop buying diapers, we'll never be able to pick and go without taking everything but the kitchen sink, we'll never get another date-night, the house will never stay clean for more than an hour....But time does march on, and sooner rather than later, the house will become eerily quiet and it will stay clean and no one will need me on the same level they once did. So, while I do not believe one must refrain from working to be the perfect mother, I have realized that I don't want to miss one bit of this time we have together. I have my whole life to work, I have my whole life to clean my house, I only have a short time to cuddle kids and hold babies and kiss boo-boos and wipe tears and blow kisses.  There are times where this feels endless and mundane and I often wonder, "Does it even matter to them?" and the answer to this question is, "Maybe it won't matter to them. But it matters to me."

Mom,

It has been four years since you passed, yet I still have moments where I have the desire to pick up the phone and give you a call because I haven’t heard from you lately.

• I want to tell you how nerve wracking yet exciting it is to watch Logan pitch.
• I want to tell you how funny it is to see London run down the soccer field while waving and giving me a thumbs up, completely ignorant of the soccer game she is supposedly involved in.
• I want to tell you how Leyton is still not sleeping through the night, how tired he has made Stac and I (I now understand why Mt. Dew is necessary in the morning), and how smiley, talkative, and generally happy he is after a downright challenging start.
• I want to post new pictures and new videos of the kids and get an immediate response indicating that you can’t stop looking at the pictures and watching the videos.
• I want you to say how much Logan reminds you of me now that he isn’t carrying around five pounds of hair.
• I want you to see Logan catch a 24-inch walleye, northern pike, and bass and come home to tell me that we have to get a boat like tomorrow.
• I want to tell you that Leyton giggles hysterically for some reason every time I pull up his arm up to get him dressed.
• I want to tell you about all of the wonderfully insightful things London says on a daily basis.
• I want to call up and just complain about how our van is rusting, how our grill is rusting, how the driveway is breaking apart, how the paint is coming off the porch, how we woke up and realized we had no hot water this morning, and how the out of pocket costs associated with having Leyton increased 30 fold over Logan.
• I want you to call up and say you think your computer is almost out of space only to have me look at it and realize you’ve only used 3% of your hard drive capacity.
• I want you to look at Leyton’s feet and pudgy legs and say how I looked just like that.
• I want you to see Dad, Mikey, Logan and myself all tee off for a round of golf.
• I want you to call up and ask if there are any treats you could bring to Logan’s birthday party.
• I want to tell you that after watching Logan mow the yard for the first time, Dad must have been really nervous every time we called him up at work and told him that we mowed the yard for him.
• I want to say thanks for prodding me to ask out that girl from Video Mania that kept coming in and talking to me for hours at a time. You were obviously right that she was the perfect fit. Stac may not have been all that similar to you, but together we produced a daughter that is very much like you. I wish London had a chance to spend more time with you.

Most of all, I just want to let you know that there are now a few days on which I finally have an answer other than “Fine” to your daily “How was your day” question and an answer other than “Nothing” to your daily “Did you learn anything” question from back in high school.

There are now a few times each year where my day was “Not so fine” and I learned that “I still really, really miss you.”

F***ing EPing...

Since it's been 3 months since my last posting, I have some updating to do!

Baby Leyton is now almost 12 weeks old. He was born a full 3 days BEFORE my due date! Thank goodness!!! I really couldn't conceive how in the world I was going to wait if he were late and I had to watch another due date come and go. Luckily, I didn't have to. Labor and delivery went very quickly. He was born within 3 hours of hard labor starting--Another thing I'm thankful for!

The first 6 weeks were extremely stressful. He was colicky, fussy, sleepless, sensitive...You name it, we experienced it. We've never had a baby quite that bad before...I always thought Logan was fussy, maybe even borderline colicky, but I now know that he was probably just "normal". London was on the other end of the spectrum. She was so content and happy. We rarely heard this child cry, so she was probably considered "abnormal". Leyton was COLICKY!

The entire time I was pregnant with him, I had this vision of his personality, which probably didn't help the reality of the situation. I thought because he was our 3rd child, he'd be this laid back, happy-go-lucky, not even aware of his presence kind of little man. We couldn't have been more wrong. He demanded our attention at all times!

In his defense, though, we found out after an entire week of doctor appointments, doula postpartum visits, and chiropractic adjustments that he has a "suck" issue, which meant that all those times I thought he was successfully breast feeding, he was actually starving. Every time I looked down at him nursing and thought he had a good latch, thought I heard suck-suck-swallow, I was wrong. The poor kid was failing to thrive. By the time this discovery was made, he had dropped 10% of his birth weight. The only solution was to bottle feed until he became stronger to suckle correctly, which could be months. My only option was to formula-feed or give him expressed milk. If you read any earlier posts, you know how strongly I feel in regards to breast milk. It is the best food for your baby. It builds up their immune system, prevents disease now and later in life. This is one occurrence where science cannot duplicate nature. And after reading all the research, I just don't know how any mother wouldn't want to give their babies the absolute best. So, in my mind, my only option was to give Leyton expressed breast milk.

Little did I know then what kind of journey this would lead me on. When I had mentioned earlier that I intended on being the "Joan of Ark" when it came to breast feeding. I had no idea how true that statement would be! After reading everything I could get my hands on and talking to friends would had endured the same thing, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I knew it was going to take all my commitment, time, and fortitude to move forward. I knew I was going to want to give up many, many times. One thing that has helped me stay true to my course is that fact that Leyton does NOT tolerate formula at all. He hates the taste of it, gets gassy, his reflux gets worse, etc. So, when I see these symptoms displayed in our sweet boy after a bottle of the 'fake' stuff, it does help to reaffirm my purpose and goals.

I have come to find out that there is a term for all of us who are solely giving our babies expressed milk in a bottle...It's called EPing. This stands for "exclusively pumping". Because a breast pump is not nearly as efficient as a human baby to drawing out the milk from the breast, most mothers do not get nearly as much milk this way as if their baby was an efficient nurser. So, in order to keep up your milk supply, there are rules that must be followed on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. The general law of milk supply is like any demand/supply equation. The more taken, the more produced. This means it's very important to simulate your baby's feeding schedule so you are able to keep up with his demand. Yep, you guessed it--That means I have to pump every 2-3 hours around the clock. So, not only am I pumping for 20 minutes 10x per day, but I'm also feeding him the milk I expressed, changing him, washing bottles etc. As one blogger put it, it's the time commitment and mess and inconvenience of bottle feeding and the worst aspects of breast feeding combined into one day. It's awful. Not only do you feel like you may need a dairy license to operate such a machine, but it's also very degrading. For example, my husband has watched me give birth 3 times. I really don't have much modesty left when it comes to our relationship, but I still cringe when he walks in the room and sees me hooked up to this machine.

All kidding aside, it's a huge time commitment. On average, I pump 10 times per day for 20 minutes each time. That means I pump for 200 minutes every single day, 4 hours per day is spent connected to the wall. And because I'm connected to the wall, it makes taking care of a screaming or restless baby extremely difficult, so I have to time my pumps during his naptime or when someone else is home. So, I've felt like I have zero time to myself because it's spent EPing...And when I'm not pumping, I'm washing bottles and trying to fit in some much-needed cuddle time with a baby who is growing up too fast!

FUCKING EPing!

So much for optimism

In my last update, I mentioned having only 5 weeks of pregnancy left...

Well, it's been 7 weeks since that last posting and I'm STILL pregnant...Now I'm optimistically hoping to have a baby in my arms by my due date. If I have to watch another one come and go, I just might cry. In fact, I know I will because I've been weepy for the past month just thinking about enduring another pregnant day.

Come to think of it, though, I should be enjoying my final days of peace and our family as we know it. Once the baby is actually born, life will be thrown into complete chaos with feedings, naps, sleepless nights, and diaper changes. I really should be happy that he's so well taken care of inside instead of hoping for the latter.

And none of the above has taken into account how our older two kids will react and adjust. I'm foreseeing lots of tears and meltdowns as they both quickly realize that our time, energy, and resources are no longer just split in half, but must now be divided three ways (with the baby taking up a great portion for the first year).

Sad to say, I don't think the meltdowns will only involve the kids either...(sigh!). I'm sure there will be plenty of moments where I'm in the fetal position on the bathroom floor as well.

Sharing the Love...

When you find something, anything, that exceeds your expectations (or your past experience), you can't help but spread the good news in hopes of sparing others the same disappointment and long search...

So, with 5 weeks remaining in my 3rd pregnancy (Ok, technically I have 8 weeks left, but since I'm a "glass half full" kind of girl, we're going to optimistically believe the shorter!), I feel like I've been eating and breathing and living everything "baby". And I have my mind set on being the "Joan of Ark" of breastfeeding mothers. Come hell or high water, this baby is going to be solely sustained on my breast milk. As a result, I'm on a massive search for the best nursing products available to woman.

To begin my search, I set out to find the best possible nursing bra. After all, why should a woman, who is already uncomfortable with engorged breasts and sore nipples have to endure an uncomfortable bra? In the past, I've gone with what was available, not believing there could be anything different out there. Well, guess what, Ladies??? There is! And it's the best thing EVER!!!

No more waiting...It's the Bodysilk Seamless Nursing Bra by Bravado.



So what's so good about this bra that goes above and beyond the others? Well, it's soft and comfortable for one thing. In fact, it's so snuggly, that I don't even think I'll need a sleep bra. This one suffices just fine. Secondly, it's very supportive (wireless)and looks great under a t-shirt. It stays in place--no shifting or straps falling down. But the best part is probably the fact that is has removable pads, so while you're in those early stages of nursing and your milk comes in at the oddest times and leaks everywhere, you're able to wear nursing pads and still go to Target without everyone knowing it...The pads conceal the goings-on beneath! I love it!! And lastly, this bra has great, true sizing (small, med, large)...This means that you can wear it while pregnant and be assured that it will give or take afterwards when your milk comes in and your breasts are larger and will still fit when your milk is established and some of the initial heaviness is gone.

I hope this helps some of you a). Save your money and B). Your sanity.