Series: City

I've mentioned before that the Center asked me to do a series of photos for the new building.  I was honored to be asked to do this, and I finally finished two series, for two separate wings of the building in June.  This first series is titled: City.  Perhaps you'll recognize some of them:

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Photo Friday: Do you remember that one time it was summer?

I was looking through pictures the other day and realized we had a whole lot of fun this summer that I didn't document.  I know that back home in the States it feels like summer ended a long time ago, but here schools don't actually start until the first full week of September, and don't get out until the end of June.  So here you go....a tribute to our summer - not in chronological order.

Building trains on rainy days

Ollie's first outing at the Ol' Llamas Fair

Our make-shift triple stroller.  Can you guess where the baby is?

In Portrush on a sunny Saturday.

Playing the violin like Quincy from Little Einsteins

Our version of "eating out"

Lunchdate!

How to be a real jerk.

This morning I woke up furious at my husband.
Let's revisit the many faults he had going for him, shall we?
It all started in the middle of the night when I was awoken every 1-2 hours by some little person that wanted to use me as a human pacifier.  There's no way anyone could be that hungry.  And trust me I've tried so hard (SO HARD) to get him to love his pacifier as much as I think he should, but he only will love it during daylight hours.  The boy is some sort of time-telling genius I tell you.  I know you are probably thinking, "Why get mad at your poor husband about that?"  Well, I ask you...why am I the only one with functioning mammary glands?  Why does he get to just lie there and sleep while I have to stay awake?  Did he just deep sigh because my ipod light is too bright for him?  (This is about the time I pointed it inches from his face willing him to wake up so I could burn off his retinas with my super-strong ipod light.)
Next offense: the other boys woke up at various other times throughout the night.  Sure, I could probably only hear them because I was awake anyways, but he somehow should have sensed that there was trouble when I got out of bed to see what the problem was, and "accidentally" kicked him on my way out.
And it continued: It escalated when the boys (who had skipped naps and gone to bed too late) woke up at 6:30 (SIX THIRTY!).  They didn't just wake up.  They threw things, fought loudly, and screamed their ways out of bed at 6:30.  So I got up.  While you-know-who acted like he didn't have a clue what was going on.
Could it get worse you ask?!  I decided I was going to put a movie on. (Because what better way to reward terrible behavior, than to give them exactly what they want?)  Only, there were no batteries in the remote.  How dare he take the batteries out of the remote right before I would OBVIOUSLY be using it at 6:30 in the morning?!  By this time I was livid.  I was shouting at my children through half-opened sleepy eyes, and I was on a rampage looking for some flippin' batteries. 
And that's when he did it.
Somewhere between me slamming drawers in our bedroom he actually had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to lay down.
So I told him as nicely as I could possibly muster:
"YESIWANTTOLAYDOWN! I'MSOFREAKINGTIREDTHATICAN'TBREATH! IHAVEHADNOSLEEPANDNOWEVERYONEISAWAKE!"
He then had the nerve to get out of bed and insist that I get in it.
So with the huffs and puffs of a million wolves I slammed my body down into bed, but not without making it painfully obvious that I wasn't happy about the timing.  I think I even mumbled a "I'LLNEVERBEABLETOSLEEPNOW." as he walked out the door.
I was so mad.
And I really couldn't sleep.  But not because I was all worked up, or because I had already been awake for 20 minutes.
It was because I came to the terrible realization that I was a jerk.
A jerk that was being a jerk to everyone who didn't deserve it.

Dear Perfect Mom:

I've been watching you for years now.  I quietly wait on the sidelines as you shuffle your perfect children together into a perfect line.  I see the beautiful family photos you are able to take because you are all the picture of beauty and your kids never have snot caked on their sleeve.  I've long admired your dedication to working out, making healthy delicious dinners, and allowing your children only 30 minutes of "screen time" a day.  I've read your Facebook status updates about how much you look forward to spending the day with your tiny people, and I've read the blog posts detailed with pictures about the perfect birthday party you put together for your toddler that will never remember it.

I've been watching you.
And envying you.
And waiting you out.

I want you to know that I think you're great.  I thought you were great before you were a mom and you were oversleeping and missing class.  I bet your kids would have thought you were great even then.   I bet you would be great even if you didn't make the most amazing goodie bags that even I want to steal from my child when he brings them home.  I would even think you're great if your child's birthday party invitations didn't rival those of the Presidential Ball.  I'll still think you're great when you miss your child's doctor's appointment for the 2nd time.  Because that's what I do. 

I know that if I asked you why you do it, you would probably say that you really enjoy it.  At least I hope that's what you'd say.  I hope that you wouldn't tell me it's because you want to make all of the other moms jealous, or that you think we could all be a little humbled by your sheer creativity and awesomeness.

I would like to invite you to be unapologetically honest with me.  I promise I won't judge you for the extra movie you let your kids watch yesterday, or for the gummy bears they had for breakfast.  Save your excuses for someone who might need them.  I, on the otherhand, understand.  

 I think we should all admit that we're all just mediocre at this parenting stuff - that perfection is overrated and underpaid.  I want you to have a bad hair day, and to forget snack money every once in awhile.  I want you to at least act like it's okay if I do. 

I just want you to know that you can talk to me about your insecurities, and that you can admit when you feel overwhelmed and under-appreciated.  Please, tell me about the time you almost burnt your house down making scrambled eggs, and I'll tell you about mine.  I want to hear about the tears you cry because your children know the exact buttons to push that send you over the edge.

Please, I'm begging you to be honest with me.

I'll put the kettle on.
I'll pour you a cup of tea.
We'll be honest for just one afternoon.
And I bet we'll laugh about it.

Maybe we'll need red wine and chocolate.
Yeah, that's a better idea.

And I would tell you that You Are Enough.
 
And I think I'll be able to convince you to come over to the dark side with me.   You know the side.  The one with unkept hair, mascara smudges, and snot dried on your clothing.  The one where you read the parent letter wrong and don't send a lunch.  The one where you let your kids watch more than 30 minutes of t.v. so that you can have a moment to yourself. The one where you pretend to go to the bathroom so that you can lock the door behind you and sit in quiet solitude.

It's also the side where you can leave your house in the height of uncleanliness to go out for coffee with a friend, and where you will invite someone in while giving them a hard-hat and absolutely no apology or explanation as to why it looks like a construction zone.

It's the side with second-hand clothing, and a car that's too small for your family.

It's the side where you blow-off naps for an afternoon at the beach.  Where you let your kids strip down to their undies just to run into the ocean, only to realize you didn't pack any towels or extra clothes.

It's a beautiful side.  And you're invited.  Because I can already tell that I like you.

What I know now.

Things I knew four weeks ago:

• That every time Liam went to hold Miles' hand he would ask "You won't bite me?" first. 
• That Miles and Liam had both started saying "Ummmm, Mom?" whenever I had forgotten/lost/or done something that they thought was wrong.
• That Liam asked me everyday to, "lay be me for ONE minute" - an easy request to fill.
• That Miles liked to chase Liam around the house growling at him like a dinosaur when Liam ran away frantically screaming and sometimes crying.
• That Liam had sprint into the "terrible twos" like a bat out of hell.

What I didn't know four weeks ago:

• That these two boys would prove to be more loving, gentle, and kind big brothers to "Little Baby Oliver" than I could have ever imagined or wished for.

First day of school 2012

Remember that one day I had my act completely together, got all three boys dressed in time, AND had time to take first day-photos without being late?  It was a fleeting moment, so I documented it.

Now do you remember that time I took my tiny 2.5 year old to school and he sobbed almost all day, so I went to get him only to have him completely ignore me once I arrived, as if to "teach me a lesson." 

The good news:  Mom didn't cry...I think I was too giddy at the prospect of 3 hours with only one kid.  Don't judge.

Yeah, those were both yesterday.  Deep sigh...here's to another go at it. :)

Busy.

I haven't been the faithful writer that I normally am.
I almost typed out some excuse about being really busy, but the truth is that if any one of you looked at my google calendar, you would most certainly have seen two weeks of blank squares.  My social and work calendar would be the exact opposite of busy.

But I thought about it a little more, and I realize I have been busy - just unconventionally busy.

I've been busy bouncing...I bounce a lot these days.  I bounce standing, sitting, and I'm currently trying to figure out how to do it lying down.  This little person that just joined my life four weeks ago seems awfully distraught for being carried everywhere, getting food literally squirted into his mouth, and having someone else bath and dress him.  Can you say di-va?

I've been busy eating... My appetite is insatiable.  I'm not kidding.  For months I haven't been able to eat anything because I thought I would explode and a baby would come flying out of me, but now I can't put the fork down.  It's like I'm training for the Iron-man Competition, minus the part that would resemble exercise.

I've been busy being sad... My volunteers left, and that left me so sad. SO SAD.  I would say I finally found the strength to move on this weekend, but there are still moments that I look back on and feel empty.  It's not that I'm afraid I won't see them again - it's more about being in an empty space that they once filled - finding it hard to imagine it filled again by someone else.  Oh yeah, and did I mention that on Monday (TODAY!) my two older boys start school?  Okay...so I'm a tiny bit (cough) ecstatic (she says cryptically coughing into her hand), but I've become so used to Liam being my little work buddy, it will be so sad to see him go.  Plus, I know he'll cry, and I'm TERRIBLE (seriously, terrible.) about not crying when he is so sad.  I look forward to the day he instead rolls his eyes at my sad face and thinks I'm being ridiculous.

I'm been busy writing emails and letters in my head.  I owe so many people emails and letters.  And I write to them all the time... in my head.  You probably have a letter or email coming your way, but I just haven't actually typed it out yet, let alone mailed it.  Trust me, it's a good one though.

I've been busy writing blog posts in my head.  Believe me - they're awesome.  Maybe someday you'll get to read them.

I've been busy watching ridiculous movies.  The most recent is "What to Expect When You're Expecting."  It got terrible reviews, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but I secretly loved it.
If you've seen it, I'm totally this woman:

Elizabeth Banks in the "I'm calling bull#$%^, Pregnancy Sucks" scene.

I've been busy being tired.  Do you know what three solid hours of sleep feels like?  Will you tell me about it?  I'd like to live vicariously through you.


And finally, I've been busy trying not to be too busy.  That's hard work people.

Now off to our first day of school.  Wish us luck.