Monday, October 6, 2014

One Year of Will

Happy. Serious. Independent. Easy-going.

That's my William.
(c) Tiny Bubbles Photography
One year ago, I was going to bed with contractions that had a little more kick to them than the rest of my Braxton-Hicks. I was calling my brother saying, "you're on call. Tonight may be the night." He'd get another call 3 hours later. "Yep, going to need you to come over and watch Henry. It's go-time."

I was waking my husband saying, "You remember that bag I told you to pack before your went to bed? You have to actually pack it now."

My brother and sister-in-law arrived and I remember my brother saying something like, "This isn't at all how I'd imagine it, I thought there'd be running and screaming."

And then we were in the truck on the way to the hospital. The truck that, no exaggerating, has ZERO shock absorption. Have you had a baby? Just imagine a contraction while riding a horse, because that's how it felt. If you haven't had a baby, I have no words to relate the uncomfortableness of that particular situtation. To the truck's credit: I believe it helped me dilate a centimeter or two, so by the time we arrived at the hospital, I was already at 4.

I cried in the hospital parking lot. It was most likely the hormones, but something about I'm not coming out of that building, until this baby is on the outside of my body, just scared me to tears.

Mark napped. There were some mild contractions, some painful contractions, and the time I accidentally pressed the holy sh!t emergency button instead of the nurse call button (which was, on a whole, reassuring because there were a lot of people there rather quickly.) 

There was a lot of, "Would you like us to break your water? Would you like an epidural?" 

And a lot of, "No seriously it hurts, but not bad enough to need it to stop yet."

There was one contraction that I didn't think I'd make it through. It broke my water and we called the nurse. I was prepared to say, "Okay, I'll take the drugs now." But I was interrupted by another contraction, a contraction that had the added oomph of, okay I need to push. 

"Let me just check, you likely didn't progress that quickly," (hand where the sun doesn't shine, it's funny how you seriously don't care whose hands are where at this point) and a, "Oh wow, yep that's a ten!" (To this day I'm choosing to take this as a complimentary rating, as opposed to a measurement.)

And all of sudden... lots of nurses running around... lots of frantic-ness. I vaguely remember hearing someone whisper to someone else-- her doctor just scrubbed in for a c-section.

There was one push. A practice-push if you will, monitored by a doctor not my own. (But she seemed great!)

And then the doctor was there. 

"I thought you were in a c-section?"

"They caught me just in time."

"Tell that other woman I'm sorry. Seriously, will you? She's probably so mad at me."

There was another push.

Stirrups out. Husband's face is white.

"One more push and he'll be here."

"I'm sorry, what? Is that even okay? I thought babies weren't supposed to come too quickly, we just started."

A sort of smirk from the doctor. "It really is fine. Just push."

That slimy, alien-octopus feeling.

And then there was William.

Little William under the bright lights of the big world. The star of his show. 

I remember being slightly shocked that he was a whole new baby. A whole new person. I held him for a moment and then he went to vitals and clean-up.

Mark looked at me and said, "Babe it happened so fast there was no-where for me to hide." (He prefers to be up near my face during the whole baby-birthing thing.)

"Are you sure you're okay?" the doctor asked.

"I feel fine. I'm just can't believe it's already over."

"Everything looks fine, you should be happy that it went quickly," he replied. But what he really should have said was: 

"It's only just begun."

William, I pray for so many things for you. It's a good thing that I pray through my heart because I wish for you more than I have words to express. I look forward to seeing you every day, as you grow into your person. I hope I remember, when you are full grown and towering over me, the smiling little nugget that I will pull out of bed tomorrow on his first birthday.

Happy birthday, William Marlow. One year down, little man. Your adventure has just begun.
(c) Tiny Bubbles Photography

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Lies I Told Myself

Sometimes the days-before-kids seem like yesterday, other times those days seem an eternity ago. Mostly it depends on how near nap-time we are. In reality I've been a mom for a little over three years.

I laugh at my pre-kid self. Because seriously, she had NO idea what was about to happen. (I also happen to be insanely jealous of her sleeping habits.)

I told myself so many lies about how I would be as a parent:

We're going to be on a perfect schedule.
Toys won't take over my house. 
Kids won't sleep in my bed.
I'm so ready for this parenting thing.

Now? I can tell you those are all lies. But I honestly believed myself at the time. Another lie I told myself?

I won't tell silly little lies to my children to just make things easier.

But, suddenly these silly little lies are spilling out of my mouth. All. the. time:

Sorry, sweetie I don't know where the last two cookies went.
Mommy doesn't know how to change batteries.
Mickey mouse seriously loves avocados, Henry. Don't you want to try them?
That arcade machine is broken, but maybe next time.
Sorry, Netflix doesn't have Calliou anymore. How about Carebears?

So, let's hear it: What pre-parenting lies did you tell yourself? What notions changed for you after the reality of kids set in?

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Awkward

That one time I made Buzzfeed. (#24)

Seen by 125,000 people and counting. Just a few more than saw it originally. Oh boy.

I said it then and I'll say it again. You have to be able to laugh at yourself :)

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Takeover

This morning I woke up to a baby key ring teether and a toy semi-truck in our bed.

I brushed my teeth under the watchful gaze of a rubber ducky.

I usually eat breakfast with Mickey Mouse or Doc McStuffins. 

Jake & The Neverland Pirates join me for lunch.

There's a sippy cup, a juice box and a half-eaten packet of applesauce in my passenger seat.

There are currently two Hot Wheels and a bouncy ball in my fruit bowl.

I usually find Fisher-Price Little People hiding in my shoes.

Today, I stepped on a tiny, yellow construction cone that I didn't even know existed previously.

Last time I traveled for work I found a pretend hot dog in my laptop bag as I went through security.

My bedside table is littered with children's books.

There's a railway down the hallway, that wasn't there this morning.

Slowly, and then all at once* this kid paraphernalia has invaded every corner of my world.  The culprits? These tiny humans that come with oh-so-much stuff? Well, while they have most certainly taken over my home, they have managed to even more completely conquer my heart.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.


*Quote credit: John Green (The Fault in Our Stars

Friday, August 15, 2014

Quote It: Read and Kiss

(c) Laurealism

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Just a Girl in a Boy World

I've always sort of thought of myself as a boy-mom.

Don't get me wrong, being the mother of a girl would be awesome. Girl clothes are WAY cuter and a mommy/daughter pedicure sounds amazing. And, of course a girl technically could be in our future. But for now: 

I am a boy mom.

I'm not sure what I was thinking exactly with this whole boy-mom business, but now that Henry is getting a little bit older (and baby brother William is all over the place...) it is starting to dawn on me:

I have no idea what it is like to be a boy. 

I have no idea what it's like to grab at my penis every so often. I'm assuming it's to check to make sure it's still there. 

I have no idea what it's like to discover that I have balls. 
Look, mommy! I have eggs in my penis!
Those are your testicles, sweetie. Most people just call them balls.

I have no idea what it's like to love bugs. Like actually enjoy their presence.
I looove bugs, Mommy! I love them.

I have no idea what it's like to be unafraid of spiders. If a spider falls on you, or you touch one, or you pick one up, or heaven forbid you EAT ONE: you are on your own. Or I can kill it with a shoe, but of course that means I will be smacking you with a shoe, so you know, your choice.

I have no idea what it's like to want to pick up every rock I see and want to keep it. Forever. 
Please, Mom? Rock play in my room?

I have no idea what it's like to somehow know exactly what every vehicle sounds like, and be able to do a pretty good impression of it. Also: I'm bad with cars. There are cars, SUVs, Trucks and Semis. I will never know which make or model, and I certainly will never be able to tell by headlights alone. "White van" is about as descriptive as I can be. So please don't get kidnapped because I will not be able to describe the vehicle.

I have no idea what it's like to have the ability to turn just about anything into a weapon. Goodness help me when you figure out you can make guns out of your hands.

I have no idea what it's like to want to pee outside every chance I get. You know that kills the grass, right?

I have no idea what it's like to want to pick up frogs. Or snakes. Or other yucky things. If I see something move out of the corner of my eye, and it's not fluffy, my first reaction is to scream.
You otay, mommy?
Yes, I'm okay. I just thought that toad was a giant spider for a second. It's cool now. No I don't want to touch it.

I have no idea what it's like to think mud and poop are cool. Dirty and cool aren't synonyms for me.

And someday? I will have no idea what it's like to change a tire, or my oil. Or anything to do with tools. This is why God created husbands. The definition of a garage to me is a place to park a car or keep your holiday decorations. 

So while I always pictured myself as a boy-mom, I have a lot to learn. Because before I was a Mom, I was a just a girl. So, next time you want to show off that bug, or play "bad guys" with real sound effects... go talk to Daddy.

But I'm totally up for a tea party with the stuffed animals when you have a minute. 

Monday, July 28, 2014

A Pirate's Life for Me

I think my brother said it best, when he asked me this weekend:

You really commit to a theme, don't you?

Um, have you met me?!

I LOVE party planning. And I'm sorry in advance kids, but you'll have a themed party long after you've outgrown them. 

Sock-monkeys (just realized I never blogged that one... throwback post in the future...) choo-choo trains and this year pirates? 

Yo ho! Let's go!

Henry loves Jake & The Neverland Pirates Lately, so we already had some of the toys around the house, but anything I bought is already being put to good use by my little pirate. (You be Hook, Mom. I be Jake.)

We had a blast!
Yep, those are votive candles on the cake. Mom of the year over here couldn't find the birthday candles.
Pinata!
Jake & The Neverland Pirats. Everywhere!
Cake Table! Details Below.
Signage is important. You wouldn't want your guests forgetting where they are.
 Details, details! Doubloons, "Fish N Chips," Cannonball Swords...
Treasure Dig, cake table and Pirate Garb table.
Want the details?

Pirate Garb Station:
Inflatable swords (Party City)
Eye Patches and pirate earrings (Party City)
Pirate Hats (Amazon)
Pirate Tattoos (Amazon)

Buried Treasure Dig:
Bones (Party City)
Gold Doubloons (Amazon)
Jewels (Amazon)
Water Table (Amazon)

Cake Station:
Instagram Prints (Snapfish)
Happy Birthday Sign (Target)
Pirate Plates & Napkins (Target)
Cake (Creative Cakes)
Jake Sword (Amazon)
Bucky Pirate Ship (Toys R Us)

Other:
Invitations, not pictured (Tiny Prints)
Pirate Ship Bounce House and Slide (Midway Rentals, NW Indiana & Chicagoland)
Small Chalkboards 14"x14" (Amazon)
Large Chalkboard (Ikea)
Treasure Chest Pinata (Party City)
Treasure Chest Goodie Bags, not pictured (Amazon)
"Fish N Chips" Jake Buckets (Party City)
Jake & The Neverland Pirate Wall Decals, not pictured  (Amazon)
Pirate Ship Tent, not pictured (Amazon)

What was your favorite party theme as a child? What was your favorite to create for your kid?

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Stroller in the Skies


(Below is a copy of an email to Southwest after a minor inconvenience. Their response to follow. I was limited to a certain number of characters or I would have been more descriptive.)
--
First off I would just like to say that you are my preferred airline.

That being said I feel the need to let you know about a recent negative experience. I'm notifying you, so that you have the opportunity to make it better for your customers in the future.

A business man may claim that his laptop is his most important carry-on. A leisurely traveler might say its a book. A mother on the other hand will tell you: I would lose my mind in an airport without a stroller.

I recently checked our stroller at a gate for a return flight, a regular occurrence. It's always there waiting for me on the jetway upon arrival. I've never given it a second thought.

However on this flight it was not waiting for us. I checked with a flight attendant and a gate agent, who were friendly. Both told me the stroller was likely sent to baggage claim and that I should check there.

Herein lies my problem. We have a toddler (3) and a baby (9 months.) The baby is a solid 21 pounds. And the toddler moves at a rate that nearly has him moving backwards, especially in an airport with so much to see. You can imagine how much fun it was getting said baby, said toddler, and all of our gear from the gate to baggage claim, where we continued to wait another 20 minutes for every last bag to be claimed, before I was allowed to file a claim.

John at claims was very friendly. But my 21 pounder was definitely weighing on me. (Sidenote: I also noticed the blatant mistreatment of another couple by the manager on duty, who refused to file a claim for them.)

Yesterday, the stroller was waiting for us on the front step. Thank you for returning it.

I know mistakes happen. But, the real problem? At no point in all of this were we offered any help getting our family from the gate, to our vehicle.

It was a minor inconvenience, but an inconvenience none-the-less. I'm looking for a minor advantage in exchange. Suggested options:

-A1 boarding on a future flight + VIP treatment at check-in and security
-A massage
-An adult beverage. Or 5.

I will give you one last option:
-A video of your CEO in my position: carrying a 21 pounder plus his carry-on and a kiddy bag from our gate to the terminal at the slowest rate possible. This rep must answer a constant steam of unending toddler questions. Preferably he/she is at the end of their shift or a very long day of travel.

Thank you in advance for making sure every parent who needs one, has a stroller ready for them in the future.
--

What was your best airport experience? What was your worst?

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Looking Back

-C.S. Lewis

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Parental Time Warp

There's this strange time-warp phenomena when you're a parent. Time slows down, speeds up, turns around on itself in seemingly impossible ways. And you can't keep track. It's impossible. Time runs away from you before you even think to try and grab at it.

Our first baby just turned three. But, yesterday--wait wasn't that just yesterday?-- we were bringing him home from the hospital in a newborn-sized diaper. How are we at big boy batman underwear already? How? 

Not rhetorical.

How could three years possibly have passed in what seems like overnight? Is there some mathematical formula for this?

More impossible, still is that in that blink of an eye there were some impossibly long moments, too. Moments that dragged on forever. Night feedings and tantrums and flights that would never end. 

And still thousands of tiny spurts of perfect moments, too. Laughs and smiles, and oh look you're rolling over, crawling, walking, running... wait for me!

Seriously, wait.

I'm sure many of you are more familiar than I am with the parental time-warp. You probably blinked at one point to find fully grown humans in your household, eating through your pantry faster than you can stock it.

Were they ever really little? Or did you simply imagine that?

And still more of you glanced away for a second--it couldnt have been more than a second, right?-- to find your babies having babies.

As if that were even possible.

Some days I want to rewind. Some days I want to fast-forward. Some days I don't even know yesterday from tomorrow.

But I don't think I'll ever understand how the long days and nights add up to impossibly short years.