Yolande

I jinxed myself. It's true.

I normally don't believe in "jinxing" per se, but in this case it sort of feels like I did. Not more than 12 hours after I posted my last blog entry about looking forward to enjoying a boring and uneventful 2013 my little Starman, who had been suffering since Saturday with what I strongly suspected was the flu, had a bad asthma attack he couldn't recover from. I gave him his inhalers twice and was contemplating hauling out the nebulizer when it dawned on me I better take him in to urgent care, stat! Urgent care took a quick look at him and sent him straight to the ER and after two hours of observation and treatment he was getting worse instead of better so, we were transferred upstairs to a room. We have been here since. We are going on 36 hours in the hospital and I am not optimistic about going home quite yet.

To add to the drama of the already dramatic evening, on the way from urgent care to the ER a problem with my car that had been threatening to become an issue finally did.

For months our car has had this weird short in the electrical system where, when you go over a bump, all the dome lights snap on for a second. Then after a minute they snap back off. It is highly annoying, not to mention a safety issue when driving at night with the light snapping on and off all the time. We just added it to the list of broken things we will fix eventually (the lift gate pistons have been out for months and one of the power windows doesn't work in the other car). Unfortunately on the way to the ER I went over a bump on the highway and the lights snapped on....and never snapped off. The whole 15 minutes on the way to the hospital I drove with one hand over the front dome light so I could see where I was going. I pulled into the ER and unloaded Starman. I locked the doors and waited, and waited, and waited. The dome lights stayed on. I quickly loaded him back into the car, climbed in and played with the light settings a bit and then climbed back out. No luck. Now I am panicked about getting Starman into the building so he could be treated, so I pried open the dome light in the front disconnected the lights by prying them out with a pen, but was unsuccessful with getting the back dome off. Then I noticed the outside lights were on too. Unable to do anything else, I unloaded the baby, locked the car and went to check in. I told the lady at the ER that if people reported a vehicle matching my car's description with all the lights blazing not to worry. I would deal with it when I left.

The plan is for someone to come get us from the hospital when we finally get discharged and I will deal with car when I get to it. It is most likely in need of a jump start and then we will drive it straight to the mechanic. In the meantime, we had to arrange for someone to be at our house when our new washing machine is delivered today (our old one broke on Christmas Eve). If things happen in three's I should be golden now. Unexpected expenses: 3, Me: 0.

So much for a boring start to 2013

Starman is doing better. He feels much better but his oxygen levels still are concerning. Now that he is coming around though, he is busy traumatizing the nice nurses with his inquisitive and stubborn personality. I strongly suspect our day nurse yesterday probably went home and hit the bottle after my little man encouraged her to ever greater heights of creativity throughout the day in attempt to keep him from ripping off his sensors and oxygen tubes. I was pretty impressed as some of them were quite ingenious, but to no avail. Then, every time he ripped off his sensors his oxygen levels would crash and he would send the nurses scurrying through the door. I am pretty sure he thought it was hysterical. He also spent a long time attempting to climb out of his crib and found he could reach the nurse call button which he then pressed repeatedly. Adding to that, his less than charming 'roid rage directed primarily at the respiratory nurses coming to give him his nebulizer treatment, and I am fairly certain that the nurses, as cute as they say they find him, will secretly be relieved when we are finally discharged. His saving grace is that he is fond of flashing his famous toothy smile at them in random moments of disarming charm. (I will definitely have to keep a close eye on that one when he gets old enough to notice girls).

So, I am looking forward to going home. And next time I write, I will not celebrate the mundane. I will accept that my life is a roller coaster. I seem to attract craziness and Murphy's law-type shenanigans like a magnet, so my NEW New Year's resolution is this; I promise to embrace my crazy life with grace and dignity. I accept that normal and boring do not exist for me and I will no longer covet them. I will strive to maintain patience in the midst of the craziest scenarios and remind myself to be grateful that somehow, no matter how crazy things get, they always seem to work out for the best in the end.

{Thanks for the amazing comments on my last post! Keep them coming to be in the drawing for SBux. Tomorrow (Thanksgiving Day) is the last day to comment on that post to have a chance at some piping hot deliciousness. I'll still do the drawing on Friday sometime, but have another post in the wings waiting to come out and play. With pictures, this time;) }

Have you guys heard that phrase about how the days are long, but years are short? I feel like for me, in this season of life with two small children, it's the truth. There are days that I feel like I'm just going through the motions, trying to get from one hour to the next. How can it only be 5 pm? How many more hours until I can go to bed? How many tantrums can one toddler throw in 24 hours? How many times can one baby wake up during the night? Days (and nights) can be long.

And yet, the years go so fast it's shocking when I stop to really let things sink in. My Truman will be three in March. Cecelia is almost a half-of-a-year old. Where has the time gone? Did it all slip by me in a sleepless daze, filled with tears and uncertainty and anxiety? Or have I spent these years relishing in the beauty of these little lives that depend so heavily on their parents?

It's a mix, really. Highs and lows, happy days and sad ones. But yes---it really does pass by in a blink of an eye when you look at the big picture. But that doesn't mean that any particular Monday won't totally suck the life out of me in no time.

Woe is me.

I've gotten a few comments about how 'I don't know how you do it all, you super mom, you.' And while that comment is such a compliment, it also makes me think that maybe I'm painting a picture on this blog that life is totally perfect. And my friends, it's SO not. There are days that I feel like a total failure as a mom, a wife, an employee, and a friend. My patience runs thin with Truman when his bedtime is going on the ninetieth minute and I've made approximately 64 trips up and down the stairs for him. I sigh and feel myself get a tense and frustrated when I hear Cecelia squawk on the monitor at 9 pm. I hate when I haven't made eye contact with my husband in what feels like days, and I realize I haven't made the time to really connect to him enough. Sometimes my work life feels incredibly heavy and depressing and my house never seems to stay clean longer than 0.2 seconds. I realize that all of this is normal and it makes me human, far from 'super' anything. But sometimes all of the little things that seem to go wrong add up  and make me want to put a big 'BAD DAY' stamp on a set of 24 hours. And that's okay. Wine will be had at the end of said bad days and tomorrow is a fresh start.

But then there are the days when everything just seems to click together. And trust me when I say that I cherish those sweet moments of contentment when they float past me in this whirlwind of life. I just want to grab those moments by the cheeks and say, 'Stick around awhile, you precious gift of clarity.' Instead of doing that, I sometimes grab my camera to help me remember a time when perspective was king. Life is good. Life could be much, much worse. My problems are laughable compared to many others in the world. And I am so blessed it really does hurt my heart sometimes when I stop and actually think about it.

Sunday was a day of contentment (well for a few moments of the morning, at least). It was a lazy family day with nothing planned. The kids were in great moods, I got to run alone and outside, and we were getting really excited to have a short week of work and then a trip to see my family. I decided to give Cecelia a bath that morning which is totally unorthodox since we only do bedtime baths lately. But she needed the bath and I loved how I could take my time scrubbing this adorable chunk of child.

Is there anything better than a squeaky clean baby full of rolls and innocence and happiness? I think not.



















And after her bath:










Huh, I guess this turned out to be my Thanksgiving post. Nice and reflective and full of thanks.

Thank you, God, for this life. Even when it seems overwhelming and extraordinarily long. Thank you for these moments of clarity. And for wine.

This boy and I, we sure can butt heads.



I get onto him about whining, about asking for TV constantly, about not listening, picking on his sister, needing to do things more independently. I push him to be more grown up than his four years. I loose my cool and yell at my sweet boy when I boil over past my patience limit.

I am human. I am not a perfect mom. I feel guilty for snapping at my Truman when he unknowingly (or sometimes knowingly) pushes my buttons.

But my goodness, how I love him with a fierceness that overwhelms me sometimes. His sweet dimple, his innocent eyes, his hugs and kisses for no good reason. His, 'Did I do a good job, mommy? Do you like what I made for you? I love you mommy, you are my best friend.' My big boy is such a blessing in my life and I'm grateful that the challenging moments are not the norm. They are a chance for growth and an opportunity for me to stretch myself a little bit more as I journey through this motherhood thing. Truman is my first born, the one who has taught me to parent and the one who will provide me with numerous opportunities for growth.

I just glanced at the date today: 3/14. Truman's original due date. I will never forget it!

(He grabbed this and stated, "This is Crest Pro Health." (??!!) )




This girl and I, we sure can butt heads.



I get frustrated when she won't hold still for a diaper change, an outfit change, or teeth brushing. She gets frustrated when I try to help her do something she can quite certainly do alone (according to her 21 month old mind). She throws a tantrum when I can't interpret her needs from constant screams. She does and doesn't want to be held, does and doesn't want assistance with everyday tasks, and does and doesn't like me to ask her questions.

She's a hot mess and the most beautiful little creature I could imagine.





And I love her with a fierceness that overwhelms me sometimes. Her pats on my back, kisses unprompted, 'Hi, Mommy! Love you!', and her angelic smiles all melt me. She is my spitfire who challenges me and entertains me regularly. I could watch her play with her toys all day long. I could watch her run to her daddy after a long day apart over and over again. I could watch her imitate her brother for years and never tire of my Cecelia.

Molding little lives is the hardest and the best. The most exhilarating and the most exhausting. Sometimes I feel like a horrible mom for yelling, snapping, lacking patience. Other times I want to cry out of sheer gratitude for these precious little lives. Occasionally I feel like I rock it as a mom and occasionally I feel like I'm just surviving. Most of the time I'm just soaking it in because I'm told it goes so fast....and it does.

But life with littles is nowhere near perfect. It's messy, frustrating, guilt-inducing, and challenging. It's the best and I would never trade it for any other phase in my life. But it is not perfect.

Some weeks, like this one, are all out of sorts. Sickness, missed work and routines, puke buckets, wiping away bodily fluids, digging deep for energy that just isn't there--those aren't the things you imagine in your pre-mommy days. But those things are a part of motherhood, just the same.

I took the kids to Target once we finally started to pull out of our sickness haze. We just needed a few items and I found some (secret) gems in the Dollar Spot for Easter baskets. The kids never ask for toys or treats when we are shopping and I never splurge on them 'just because'. Don't want to spoil them or make them bratty little entitled monsters or anything, right?

But this day? I told Truman he could pick out a small toy and his excitement nearly bowled me over. He picked a small $5 train and then we found a $5 'princess' nail polish set for Cecelia to keep it even. Their smiles made this treat more than worth it. Truman's constant, 'Thank you for my train, mommy! You are the best' made my day. Sometimes it's okay to say 'Yes' even when they aren't asking for anything. It's okay to be spontaneous and fun and spoil them a bit, if for no other reason but because I'm so proud of them.











Room sharing like pros, handling sickness and a grumpy mommy, a lack of routine and the longest winter in the history of ever---Yes. They deserve a fun surprise 'just because.' Not because I feel guilty or am trying to make myself feel better for being a little less than a fantastic mom this week. Not because I'm trying to make it up to them somehow. Obviously they will still love me even when I'm at my worst and hopefully I won't scar them for life in the process. I'm their mom, the good parts and the bad parts of me. That's the wonderful thing about family: we love each other in spite of our flaws. Unconditionally. Whole heartedly. And thank goodness for that, because don't we all need a little grace sometimes?

This is real life, kids and it's not always pretty. But it's still awesome and always worth the ugliness.



I'm happy to be their mom, imperfections and all.

I couldn't find these pictures last night but here is me in my mom's wedding dress!

The reason for this look on my face is because I can barely breathe, and my arms won't bend or go down by my side.....my mom was SO tiny back in the day!!!

Now obviously, this dress is a little outdated. It turned a little yellow and it was very wrinkly. But get this: my mom SEWED her own dress! She made it from 2 different patterns and just whipped it right up, back in 1975. Now that is taking craftiness to an extreme. Don't worry, she loves to tell the dramatic stories of her many breakdowns during the sewing process. I guess it wasn't as easy as she leads us to believe.


Again, it's so tight in the back I can't relax my arms. But I love the general silhouette.

Now we tried this on right after I got engaged and before I went dress shopping. We seriously considered restoring it and altering it to be more modern (ie get rid of the mock turtle neck and the sleeves). We decided against this option, obviously. I guess it proves that if I keep my gown, at lest my daughter will have an option.

Isn't it weird how similar it is to my real dress: ivory, lace, sash, not poofy. AND she wore a lace trimmed veil.

I guess I know where I got my good tastes:)


And now for another blast from the past: Julia, circa 1986 in Denver, CO. I was such ham even back then!

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