8.07.2017

worth it

Our days are busier, filled with a fussy newborn who will only nap while being held and a cranky toddler who melts down about oatmeal falling off his spoon (direct quote, minus the sobbing: "Why is this happening? Why? Why?!"). Our nights are longer, filled with a half dozen iterations of nurse/diaper/sleep-for-an-hour. It's inevitable that patience runs thin, temperaments turn moodier, and responses come out snippier.

And with these undesirable effects of straight-up weariness comes the guilt. The guilt from not being able to hold it together for one more irrational, unanswerable "Why??" The guilt from not being able to soothe the wailing baby. The guilt from just wanting to curl up in bed and sleep. The guilt makes you wonder if maybe you aren't really cut out for this, maybe you don't have what it takes, maybe you don't have what they need...

And then your two-year-old suddenly looks at you, looks at both you and your equally weary husband... He looks at his mommy and daddy and matter-of-factly says, "You're a good Mommy. And you're a good Daddy." And he finishes his oatmeal.

The days filled with putting out fire after fire are worth it. The nights filled with everything but sleep are worth it. These boys are utterly and completely worth it. And Jason and I, even sleep-deprived and grumpy and beat, are exactly what Lucas and Finley need and want.


Sometimes you just need a reminder: We are good parents. From the mouth of babes.


8.02.2017

the boys

Boy One:

Boy One is amazing. He has tackled his role of New Father of Two with strength, energy, patience, and the ability to be once again okay with some varying amount of baby liquid on his clothes at all times. I would be an unshowered, snack-food-only-filled, overwhelmed mess of a mom without him. Instead, I am simply an unshowered, snack-food-and-regular-food-filled mom with a couple layers of sleepiness. Trust me, it's a night and day difference.

Jason successfully wrangled me through another 40 weeks of pregnancy and another flawless labor and delivery. He never teased me about my very sad, first and second trimester aversion to broccoli and tofu. He patiently walked with me through both of the nasty needle situations required by pregnancy. He gave up his side of the bed so I could sleep on my left side, even going as far as moving all of the contents of our nightstands from one side to the other. He then let me switch sides again a week later so I could be that much closer to the bathroom, though he didn't move the nightstands again... He picked up every piece of slack that I started dropping through the cracks due to lack of energy and excess stomach circumference. He took over every single part of Lucas's hour-long bedtime routine. He let me stay in bed in the morning while he got up with Lucas. He rolled me out of bed, pulled me out of bed, and pushed me out of bed, depending on what the situation required. He dealt with every unpleasant thing I didn't want to deal with. He even baked for me.

He got me through each contraction and didn't complain once about me grumpily demanding he read my mind during labor. And only once did he mention how hard I was squeezing his hand while I shoved a baby into the world. He was my rock. He gets even less sleep than I do post-Finley, but he still somehow magically soothes both boys to sleep I don't even know how many times a day.

I love Boy One. With every fiber of my sleep-deprived body, I love him.

Boy Two:

Boy Two is a daily fascination, a walking-never-stop-talking wonder, a veritable genius of a two-year-old. He seriously amazes me every day. I know I'm a tad biased being his mom and all, but by golly how in the world is he so smart? He is obsessed with letters and numbers. He counts all day long (everything is countable, you know) and can easily go to 100. Easy peasy. He understands the concept of ordinals and uses them perfectly ("This is blueberry number 34. This is my thirty-forth blueberry!"). He has recently grasped relative size and can now tell us that "three things are not a lot" when we mistakenly say something to the contrary (sigh, another parenting advantage/trick removed from our knapsack).

His latest impressive trick is knowing what letter a word starts with. We can give him a word and he'll sound it out. Paint? "Puh-puh. P!' Hammock? "Huh-huh. H!" Cardinal? "Cuh-cuh. Is Cardinal C or K?" We can take a word, change the first letter, and he'll correct us. For example, we say "flush and wash and be on our way" at the end of every trip to the bathroom, but sometimes we will change it up and say a different rhyming word like "day" or "pay" or "ray" because it makes Lucas laugh. One day, after using "zay" instead of "way," Lucas suddenly "got it" and exclaimed, "You used Z instead of W!" And, thus, a new game was born. He is also super interested in how a word changes when you remove certain letters. He covers up various letters and asks, "What this say now?" As it turns out, if you take California and remove the C, A, L, I, F, and A, you're left with the hilarious word Orni. "What Orni means?!" Cue the giggles.

Funny story: The other day Lucas was looking at one of his sticker charts and he suddenly said, "Mommy, where's the D in stickers? Where's the D?" I told him there was no D in the word stickers, but he insisted there should be a D and where was it. And then I realized the problem. Lucas has a funny relationship with S's, especially when they're at the beginning of a word, and while Jason and I easily understand when Lucas says the word stickers, he doesn't actually clearly pronounce it as "stickers." Instead it's more of a "sdickers"... which would have a D.

Related story: Lucas saw Home Depot today and asked what the orange words said. After telling him that the words said Home Depot, the name of the store, he asked, "But why is there a T?" He saw a T at the end of the word but didn't hear it when I told him the word. Ridiculously bright this one. Explaining why there are arbitrary silent letters to a 2-year-old is tricky due to their go-to response being "Why?" YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE TO EXPLAIN THEM TO A 2-YEAR-OLD. This is my life.

Lucas also has a very creative side. He makes up stories and scenarios about his animal friends. He is all about making up new "words," a pastime that can go on for hours. He loves, loves, loves to color with pencils, crayons, markers, or whatever else he can find. His scribbles often accidentally make letters (L's, V's, T's, "broken A's," and D's are the most common) and he always excitedly points them out to us. He is particularly fond of renaming his crayon or chalk colors. The other day alone, his colors consisted of beauties like "Holy Poly," "Might is Mortal," "Off the Cliff," "Gruffle Gruffle," and "Bees By My Head." He's the funniest little chap.

I have no idea what is "normal" or average for an almost-three-year-old. For all I know, these are all skills/interests that he should have developed months and months ago. But, to me, Lucas seems so extremely bright and he's constantly impressing me. His mind fascinates me. I can't help but brag on him. He's my little bright-eyed boy.

"Mommy, have you ever seen a day like this day??"

I love Boy Two. With every pitter patter of my bursting heart, I love him.

Boy Three:

Boy Three is the squishiest, jowl-iest little chunk with the most beautiful smashed-black-bean-colored eyes I've ever seen. He is six weeks old as of Tuesday and the Transformation is happening. Just as with Lucas, the six week mark is that magical time when one's sleepy, floppy newborn suddenly transforms into a legit baby with sparks of curiosity, bobblehead-like head control, and the ability to focus his eyes in a particularly soul-searching way. I love it, though I already miss his sleep-and-snuggle-all-day-long newborn days.

We still aren't 100% sure what color Finley's eyes are. Depending on the light, they look varying shades of brown or gray or sometimes even a hue of blue. They're fascinating. I think most commonly they are this interesting shade of Smashed Black Beans. If you are unfamiliar with this color, feel free to go smash some cooked black beans and see Finley's eye color firsthand. Or just take my word for it - they're beautiful.

Isn't it weird how you get the proudest feelings over the silliest things when it comes to your own baby? In particular, weight gain. Why is the weight of your baby even a mentionable? But somehow it is, and boy do I get the proud feelings each time Finley is weighed. Lucas gained a pound a week for his first five weeks, and Finley followed suit. His little brown belly has grown and grown. With each new pound that Finley has put on each week, I feel so much pride. It's silly, I know, but I am literally making a tiny person grow by feeding them milk that I somehow make without trying. It's a crazy phenomenon. Crazy.

Things I love about Finley:
  • His round ears
  • His happy gurgles
  • The tiny hair swirl at the front of his head
  • His sad frown
  • The way his eyes flutter open when he wakes up
  • His tiny dimpled knuckles
  • How he will snuggle on you for hours and quietly snuffle-huff as he sleep breathes
Things I am not a fan of:
  • His spit up (which Lucas never had)
  • His dislike of diaper changes
  • The way his oven-like body combines with my oven-hot body to make us a giant sweaty mess if I hold him for ten minutes
  • How he won't nap unless you let him snuggle on you for hours, while he quietly snuffle-huffs in your ear...
There are already so many temperament differences when I compare Finley and Lucas as babies. For starters, Finley's first restaurant outing did not result in inconsolable screaming like Lucas's. It was amazingly relaxed. I am more than curious to find out how these differences will play out as Finley gets older. 

I love Boy Three. With every breath I breathe in of his little warm huffle-puffle breathing, I love him.

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I feel like I should bullet-point some things for myself, despite not being one of "the boys." It's been a pretty long time since I've blogged, so I think it will be acceptable. [And according to Lucas, anyway, I AM one of the boys, despite being a girl so... take that] Since this post is already a novel and a half, I'll try to be brief. Ha.
  • I am currently all about the sauerkraut sandwiches. Oh my word. So good. I put sauerkraut on pizza once and it was delicious. Recommend x4.
  • I have a red vertical birthmark on the middle of my forehead. It is my own personal exclamation point that becomes more visible when I'm upset. [Beware the Asian.] Well, I am here to announce that I have successfully passed it on to both of my boys and I could not be more pleased. Seriously. Lucas and Finley both have it on their foreheads, a little less visible and off from center than mine but undeniably there. No one can do a kid switch with my babies - I've put my stamp of awesomeness on them.
  • I only have two kids [and that only for six weeks] and I'm already dreaming about minivans. I want one so bad. Even used, they're so expensive. Why? Doesn't the world know that the reason one needs a minivan is because of the money-eating children that you are raising? And now that I've done a cursory minivan Google search, Toyota Sienna ads keep popping up on my Facebook. Alas, we are still quite a few years out, Facebook.
  • A big book sale is coming up this weekend and I am beyond excited to peruse. For real. This was seriously my summer schedule of Exciting Things to Look Forward To: "Jason finishes the spring semester at work. Branson vacation. Meet Finley. Book sale." I may need Jason to give me a monetary limit. I want all the books.
  • How is it August already? I am soon to be left on my own with my two munchkins when Jason goes back to work and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit apprehensive. I hope I have what it takes and the boys are patient with me. 
I love my boys. All three of them. I love them all in incredibly different ways and yet somehow the same. It's weird but right. Bring on the adventures.

Six weeks in and I'm pretty sure this is the only picture with all four of us in it. We'll work on it.