Our So Called Vacation

I've been putting off writing this post, but I knew it had to be done - the obligatory giant vacation photo/recap dump.

Turns out digital scrap-booking (via blog) is just as annoying as old-school scrap-booking. But at least it's faster. So without further ado, here are the highlights.

We kicked off our trip by attending Judah's preschool graduation. It was so unbelievably cute and yes, I teared up when they sang "So long preschool, it's been fun. Kindergarten here we come!" Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, where did my baby go? WHERE IS MY BABY?! And who is this giant child standing in his place?

A mortarboard and diploma - now that's a legit graduation!

Apparently Judah has reached his pose-and-smile saturation point.

Then we hopped in the car and drove for 12 hours. No big deal.

Over the next few days we hit some great spots in SD:

We walked along the majestic La Jolla coastline.

We got to see Judah and Noah's beloved auntie graduate from med school. I'm pretty sure Judah was equating it with his own graduation - now they're academic peers. Of course.

We visited the San Diego Zoo. An orangutan was one of the few animals the kids saw - the zoo was so enormous. But they didn't really care since they both got toys from the gift store.

The kids got to go to a beach for the first time in their lives. And as if that wasn't enough, we got to go with our good friends who live in that area, another mom of 3 young kids. This was definitely a big highlight of our trip.

The kids had such a great time here I regret that we only went for one day. It's like every child's greatest fantasy - endless sand and water play + seashells to collect.

The kids got to go to their first aquarium ever too. 

Looking back, it was definitely exhausting and not at all a time of sitting back and kicking up our heels. BUT, a change is as good as a rest and certainly good times were had.

Of course, we didn't need to travel 500 miles and shell out a lot of cash to make the kids happy. If you ask them, the highlight of their trip (other than seeing family and playing at the beach) was eating all the yummy treats they would never get at home.

I think this kind of thing would probably be fun in 2 or 3 years...if we also traveled with a nanny.

Hot Tubs for Hot Dogs

Last week I took the kids to the pool. Noah saw a hot tub for the first time and asked about it.

Me: That's a hot tub Noah. It's hot. Don't go in there. It's not for kids.
Noah: Oh, hot tub. For hot dogs.
Me: Uh...yeah...  Let's just go to the kiddie pool.
Noah: Kiddie pool for cats!

Toddler logic at it's finest!

When is a vacation not a vacation?

When you have kids.

There is no vacation from parenting (unless someone else is doing your job).

That's why the Spouse and I have never wanted to take a vacation since our kids came. What's the point? Let's do exhausting childcare in a different locale WITHOUT all the convenience of home!

But this week we bit the bullet and went for a week to the place that most resembles paradise in the continental US - La Jolla, CA (but spoiler alert - it's not paradise if you bring tiny tyrants). We went NOT because we thought it would be relaxing in the least bit, but because we wanted to be with our far-flung family and sometimes "a change is as good as a rest."

We kicked it off right - an exhausting 12 hour car trip driving down from SF to SD. I can never look at my car again without thinking of a tiny torture chamber now, complete with phantom nausea.

Wanna get guaranteed dirty looks from a stranger? Bring your kids into a rest stop that sells breakable items.

The last 2 hours were spent like this. THANK THE LORD BABY JESUS.

The next day I escaped from the looney bin for a couple hours to have brunch at a delightfully hip restaurant with some friends I haven't seen in years.

One of my friends has 3 little ones at home and the two of us were like college girls on Spring break - Moms Gone Wild! It is an unbelievable HIGH to talk without being interrupted every 2.3 seconds. We were talking and laughing like a drowning person gulping pure oxygen - with pure joy and desperation.

One day if I've gone missing, this is the first place you should look.

And I ate better than I've eaten in years. A Paris-Brest puff pastry with strawberry compote and fresh marscapone? (Without grubby little hands grabbing it and wiping it all over my shirt?) I think I just died and met the angel Gabriel...who apparently moonlights as a waiter.

Anyway, since that delectable highlight, it's been nearly pure torture. Kids bouncing off the walls, annoying downstairs tenants, smearing food all over, dumping out crammed suitcases, coloring on white carpet - you know, being kids.

But at least we're being frustrated and tortured just 5 miles from the beach.

Ha, haha, ha, ha.

Sorry, gallows humor.

The Smarter One

I discovered Noah can rhyme today.

Me: Let's read cat in the hat!
Noah: Cat and hat rhyme mommy.
Me: WHAT?!?! You know what rhyming is?!
Noah: Yeah
Me: Does dog and frog rhyme?
Noah: Yeah!
Me: Does feet and broccoli rhyme?
Noah: No
Me: WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO RHYME?
Noah [points at me]
Me: No I didn't!
Me: Wow, I think you're smarter than Judah. Shhhh, don't tell him.

Us Now

OMG this blog post is LONG overdue!

Cuz let's be real...I haven't written a "real" blog post in months (those little short conversation snippets don't count for nothin')

So there's no way to do this except for a quick and dirty...

It's everyone's favorite - Bullet Update Time!

'Sup with Judah:

• For the last 4-5 weeks Judah has been deathly afraid of sleeping at night. He's afraid to close his eyes, afraid of the dark, and afraid of bad dreams. Every night he prays that God will protect him from (and I quote) goblins, zombies, ghosts, and skeletons - yes those and those only. This all started when our neighbor (9 year old boy) told Judah all about zombies and how Noah might turn into a zombie at night. Ever since then Judah has been asking me to fervently pray for him each night. At first he asked to be prayed for 3 times a night. And then a week later he upped it to 4 times a night. And then in a few days, it was 5 times a night. And now, I'm happy to share that I am asked to pray for him 10x a night, but it seems to be capped at that good and fullsome number. All this means that one parent has to be with Judah at ALL TIMES until his eyelids get so heavy with sleep they force him to do the one thing on earth he fights with all his might - go to sleep. We are not amused.

• Judah has been going through a very sweet phase. He often says the most flattering things to me - Mommy, you're so beautiful. You're more beautiful than all the princesses in the world. Mommy, you're so stylish (I know, so weird because all I wear are sweatpants and ratty flannels, seriously). Mommy, your smile makes my heart warm like the sun. (awwwww). And my favorite quote from him - Mommy, you're more beautiful than an angel. Not really though. You're not more beautiful than an angel. That's just an expression.

• Just last week Judah has gotten into legos. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Did you hear that? That's the sound of my heart leaping for joy and doing the happy dance. I was told this happens around age 5 and *bing!* right on cue - finally, it's happened to me, right in front of my face and I just can not hide it. I envision countless hours of Judah completely immersed in his technicolor brick world while I lounge leisurely on a couch and read a WHOLE ENTIRE PARAGRAPH without interruption. Unless Noah's around, darn it.

'Sup with Noah:

Update on Noah - still cute!

• Noah remains the cutest thing since sliced bread.

• Noah is slowly loosing his pot belly. Sad face.

• Noah is still nursing (solely for comfort cuz remember, I'm all dried up).

• Noah likes to tell me - Mommy, you have big nipples! (especially in a room full of quiet people. And no, I really don't. I think he just means in comparison to the other people in our family).

• Noah is completely offended if anyone refers to him as a baby. "I not baby! I big boy! Mommy, he call me a baby! I NOT BABY!!!!!"

• Noah talks A LOT but no one understands what he's saying. And most of the time it sounds like he's on some acid trip. Recently heard in the car - Mommy, I ride in the sun boat. And you not there. Judah not there. Daddy not there. But a cow in the sun boat. And a sun man in the sun boat. (rinse and repeat for 15 minutes. Seriously).

'Sup with the Spouse:

Update on Spouse - more "quality" time with the kids.

• He remains a devoted, loving, and long-suffering husband and father. Who visibly wilts after spending just 30 minutes with the kids. The man has good intentions though.

• We're looking forward to his 3 month sabbatical from work starting in June! This will be the first giant chunk of free time he's had since the kids were born and he's actually really excited to be more involved in their day to day lives. My tasks for him to accomplish on the sabbatical - teach Judah how to wipe his own butt and how to pee standing up without wetting his pulled-down pants. Exciting plans!

'Sup with me:

Update on me - still alive, but barely!

• I've been toying with the idea of going back to work. It's hard to find a job that lets me feel professionally satisfied AND allows me to work only 5-15 hours a week, but I think doing something in trusts and estates might do the trick. All I know is I genuinely, truly miss work. And the days I'm with the kids all day by myself are the absolute worst. I was never cut out to be with the kids all day every day and now, after scarring myself and them for 2 years - I've learned that! Yay self-awareness. Sarcastic face.

• This Summer we are FINALLY upgrading to a smartphone. Yes, we are the last people on earth with dumb phones - who aren't grandparents. To be honest, I've always hated the idea of being "connected" all the time. And I've been scared. Like totally freaked out, holy fear scared that I'll lose my ability to be bored for long periods of time if I have a smartphone. I think feeling sad and bored is a discipline and a great gift. And kind of impossible if you're always just a swipe away from every form of electronic entertainment imaginable. But what can you do. Progress marches on.

My Pleasure

Now that Judah has lost all his baby-ness, I'm realizing how quickly this hard early phase disappears. And I'm pretty sure the thing I'll miss most is his voice - the mispronunciations, the cute made-up and almost correct but not quite phrases, the way "purple Hershey's kiss" sounds like "puh-pull huh-see kiss."

Currently, I'm enjoying Judah mangling up the phrase "your pleasure." As in...

Me: Judah, thank you so much for drawing this beautiful picture for me!

Judah: [beaming] Your pleasure!

What a charming conflation of "you're welcome" and "my pleasure."

Completely unrelated picture of Judah wearing a "diaper hat" - your pleasure.

And yes, I refuse to correct him because it is my pleasure.

We Could Be Heroes

Judah and Noah both love superheroes and all their TV shows throw the word "hero" around like confetti at Mardi Gras. Creepy steam engines with faces, curious monkeys, Hispanic toddlers with talking backpacks - these are all regularly declared 'heroes' for doing relatively nothing.

This is our lives - ALWAYS.

But even so, my heart felt a flutter tonight when Judah said - Mom, you're my hero - as I kissed him goodnight. He's never called me that before.

Who knows if he knows what he's saying...but I swear there was something in his voice - softer, sweeter, even shy...

Philadelphia

Today in the car I heard Judah and Noah's first hypothetical conversation with each other. Amazing.

Noah: Judah, if there was a bear in a cave, it going to eat you.

Judah: No, I would fight it! [throws some air punches and kicks] Or I would zap it [sticks out his finger as if a laser would shoot out of it.]

Noah: You need a sword to fight it! You need a sword!

Judah: No, I don't need a sword. I could just...[does punching motions] or use nunchucks...

Noah: Yeah!

Of course I was sitting there, just dumbstruck that my kids ARE HAVING A HYPOTHETICAL CONVERSATION WITH EACH OTHER as if they are real human beings and not babies!

And I was basking in the glow of brotherly camaraderie, which actually has been pleasantly abundant between these guys since the earliest days.

Greater love has no one than this - a brother (or sister).

Noah admires and copies Judah. Judah loves being the hero/guru/big-guy on campus. Noah respects Judah's limits and actually obeys when Judah tells him not to touch his 'spaceship' or 'Hotwheel'.

Noah never fails to give Judah the response he was looking for when he shows Noah something special. Noah faithfully and genuinely says "Whoah Judah, that's awesome! Can I see that?! Whoah." Mission accomplished. Ego stroked.

And mom pleased.

As a mother, there is nothing I desire more than that my kids genuinely like and care for each other. Nothing gives me more pleasure and so far, we appear to be on the right track.

Last week we were at Macy's and the store clerk had a revealing conversation with Judah.

Clerk: You're so cute! How old are you?
Judah: Four...and a half!
Clerk: Do you go to school?
Judah: I go to preschool!
Clerk: That's great! Do you have lots of friends there? Who's your best friend?
Judah: My best friend is Noah. He's my brother.

[Camera pans around to me, grinning from ear-to-ear and beaming with joy.]

And I think the feeling is mutual because the other day Judah asked Noah - Noah, do you love me more than mommy? And Noah, to all of our surprise, said "yeah."

[Camera pans around to Judah and me exchanging a wondrous look and grinning from ear-to-ear and beaming with joy.]

Let It Go

Many moons after the hit release of Disney's Frozen, Noah is still obsessed with the movie and the theme song.

Most days end with him twirling around (I spin like Elsa, Mommy!) belting out - Let it go! Let it go! Don't hold it back anymore!

When he feels like branching out he'll belt out - SUM-UH!

He informed me last week that for his next birthday, he wants Elsa and Anna. I don't really know what that means. Mini-figurines? Or the actual people?

One of my favorite Noah-Frozen moments is when he changed up the lyrics and sang - Let it go! Let it go! Go away, close the door! Don't come back anymore!

Brilliant lyricist, this one.

Noah singing his favorite song before bed - Let it go!

Every parent on Earth is sick of this song by now, but I still love it. Probably because I still need it.

Motherhood so often feels like a call to death. A call to let things go.

Let the clean house go.
Let the organized files go.
Let seeming put-together and in-control go.
Let the interesting articles in your newsfeed go.
Let the trips to Napa and Chicago and Europe and Thailand and Greece and...and...and...
Let the hobbies (knitting) go.
Let the kick-ass career go.
Let feeling important and accomplished go.
Let the big city life go.
Let the shows and movies and fine dining experiences go.
Let the abs go.

Let the idea that you can just have one freaking moment to yourself to enjoy your day without a bunch of kids or chores clamoring for your attention go.

Let it go. Let it go.

The old is gone. It's resurrection or bust.

Actually, Or Else

Noah continues to impress me with his ever-growing language skills.

My baby who's not a baby.

A few weeks ago he demonstrated his grasp of the word "actually". Unfortunately he used it in the context of nursing (yes, we're still nursing, sort of, whole long story, no time for it now...), but whatever. He said:

Mommy, I want nurse boo-boo. [pause] Actually, I just want touch it.

(ew, gross, that's where I draw the line)

And then a couple weeks ago he demonstrated his grasp of the phrase "or else". As in:

Mommy, give me chocolate, or else I gonna cry.

How thoughtful of him to tell me how he's going to torture me, before he does it.

What He Said

Today Judah came in from the backyard soaking wet with colored chalk marks all over his hands.

He informed me that he and Noah had been taking our sidewalk chalk, grinding it down with their feet and pouring rain water on it. And when they ran out of rain water, Judah turned on the hose and let 'er rip.

I made a mess Mommy!

Yeah, I can see that Judah.

But it was a beautiful mess, Mommy.

Oh my heart. Me too. Life is messy. Relationships are messy. Parenting is messy. Figuring out how to not crash your boat between the Scylla of a mother's need for her OWN space and life and the Charybdis of a child's need for his mother's space and life is messy.

And by grace, beautiful too.

At least the pics were nice...

Some lovely photog friends took pictures of us and the kids on Easter.

Noah, as always, didn't get the memo to look at the camera. Toddlers, ugh.

Baby bow-ties = +50 cuteness points

Judah and Noah were beyond excited when they feasted their eyes on 500+ plastic eggs scattered across the church grounds just waiting to be scooped up into their baskets. I daresay they would consider this one of their happiest experiences ever.

Greedy little horders.

What these pictures don't show is how harried I felt trying to get everyone and everything ready for service. The stress culminated in a moment of weakness when I did what I would normally condemn.

As I handed the kids their Easter baskets from last year there was immediate bickering. Noah wanted Judah's bigger basket and Judah would sooner die than reliquish it. I SHOULD have told one or both kids to suck it up.

You should be thankful you get a basket at all.
I'm not going to get you new baskets because you can't learn to be content with your perfectly good old ones.

Except, I caved. I swung by the store and bought them new IDENTICAL baskets instead of teaching them to be content with their perfectly good old ones.

Terrorists - 1
Mom - 0

Sigh, happy Easter.

Order and Space

Having kids made me realize that I have a high need for order and space.

Much higher than a lot of other moms I know.

Said "other moms" seem to cruise through their day taking a lot of chaos and disruption in stride. They don't mind being touched and crowded from morning to night and are always up for some more snuggling.

Not. Me.

This is fun...for about the first 90 seconds.

I have always felt like such a mom-failure until I started to accept this. Ok, I still feel like a mom-failure but whatever. I need order. I need space. Things go very badly if I don't get enough. I start doing things like the following:

--Judah randomly put his feet on me while we were sitting on the couch. I don't understand why, but I recoiled and screamed something like - GET YOUR FEET OFF OF ME!!!! It was completely involuntary, I swear.

--I was bending over, putting something in the car and Judah stood behind me and put a roly-poly on my lower back (where my shirt had lifted above my pants). I freaking screamed and lost it again.

--Noah wants to be held and cuddled for 3 hours a day. I hate it. I try to bribe him with all kinds of toys and candy to get off of me and GO PLAY for the love of goodness.

--I hate crumbs (and spills, and stickiness, and greasiness, and randomness) with an unholy passion.

--I'm so tired of always having 'company' when I'm trying to poop. Seriously. This one has GOT to stop.

From morning to night, night to morning, little people are in my face and up in my business. Imma bout to go crazy up in here. So. I need to find some more babysitting.

End rant.

All That and a Bag of Chips

I blog a lot about the frustrations and trials of parenting little people. Because it's the truth and I want to encourage other moms out there - YOU ARE NOT ALONE! If you just want to park under the shade of a tree on your way back from Rite Aid and ugly cry because you feel exhausted and defeated, you are not alone. Been there, done that.

But I don't want my gentle (child-free) readers to get the wrong idea. Parenting little people is not all pain and suffering--ok, it is mostly pain and suffering. But there is another facet that I often completely ignore - transcendent joy. Truly.

There is nothing like parenting and the joy it brings. Just as I could never adequately describe the hell, I also can never do justice to the ecstasy.

But gosh darn it if I don't try, just a little.

To a little person, you are the world.

You are the sun, moon and stars.

You are all that and a bag of chips. A rock star. THE rock star. The one and only greatest rock star in the history of the world.

When you are there, smiling at them, you give off more light than the sun.

When you leave, they lose their mooring for a while.

And when you return, they are over-the-moon delighted.

It brings me so much joy to know that all Judah needs in order to be okay is my hugs and kisses. When he gets rejected by his friends. When he gets scrapes and bruises. When he comes down with fevers and rashes. When he loses his favorite objects. When he is sad and offers no explanation. All he needs is "some huggle snuggle time with Mommy."

And I wasn't even the one who figured that out. Judah taught me that.

I would offer candy, new toys, fun diversions, like a magician frantically pulling things out of his hat, but Judah would reject them all for just a few minutes of hugging on the couch.

Not a day goes by without my kids telling me they love me. Or picking a flower for me (sorry neighbors!). Or drawing/writing me love notes. (Even Noah scribbles on paper and says - This say, I yayu Mommy!)

Two of the gazillion love notes Judah churns out like a factory.

How many people (without kids) can say they get to drown in such bottomless oceans of love? When was the last time you got a handwritten love note, just because?

And when, if ever, did you have the power to make someone feel fully loved, unconditionally secure, and wholly sated with your mere attentive presence?

I'm sure that will slowly change as children age, but such is the gift of parenting the wee ones.

Babies, Boys and Boredom

I hate playing with my kids.

There, I said it.

Yes, I'm a horrible mother.

Possibly even a horrible human being.

But very few things make me want to stick a fork in my eye like playing with my kids.

I hate reading board books (really, they should just call them 'bored' books) and pointing out that that's a dog! There's a cat! There's a mouse! There's Elmo! *yawn*

I hate building block towers. And knocking them down again. And building it up again. And knocking them down again. And building it up again... *yawn*

I hate walking around a park slower than a snail in the direction one might take if one were extremely inebriated.

I hate chasing someone for 2 steps. And then having them chase me for 2 steps. And then chasing them again. And then having them chase me again. And chasing them again...

I hate repeating myself more than 4 times in answer to the same exact question. Constantly. All day long. Otherwise known as, toddler conversation.

All of this is what "playtime" is like with someone under age 3. And it's fine for 20 minutes. Maybe even an hour. But when it drags into the 3 hour range, each and every day, for YEARS, you start to want to cry. And I KNOW I'm not alone.

Checking out any kiddie park or museum, you'll see nannies, babysitters, and parents alike all on their smart phones, trying like heck not to die of boredom. No judgment from me. Or Louis CK. He has a hilarious sketch about being bored to death by playing with his kids, with the great punch line - Sorry, I'm bored more than I love you.

But just as kids start to become more interesting at age 3 and up, I'm discovering a new kind of boredom: Boy play.

Boy play typically involves everything that I (as a classic and lifelong girly-girl) have always avoided out of sheer disinterest.

Superheros and villains *yawn*, construction vehicles *yawn*, fighting and swordplay *ugh*, and, most recently for Judah - hotwheels.

Just a tiny fraction of Judah's beloved car collection.

It's all he wants to do now. Every time we go to Target he spends every single hard-earned dollar of his on hotwheel cars. He literally has over 50 that he hordes in his backpack and all he wants to do all day every day is "play cars."

I have no idea what I'm doing, but wheelies are always good, right?

See, that very concept is foreign to me. What does that even mean - play cars? Zoom them around? Roll them back and forth? Spin them on their backs? Pretend they are on good teams and bad teams and fight each other? I just really don't get it.

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down my desire to NOT be bored to tears.

I should know better because Judah begs me to "play cars" with him all day long and sometimes I even comply. But honestly, I just sit there with a blank look on my face and Judah eventually gets lost in a world of his own (or thankfully Noah needs a diaper change or something else "urgent" whisks me away, to my enormous relief).

But I do feel bad.

I feel bad that one of the things I dread the most is hearing Judah say - Mommy, can you play cars with me?

I dread it. I dread it with every fiber of my being. Because it presents the catch-22 choice between life-sucking boredom when I say yes or crushing mom-guilt when I say no.

Some days I'm bored more than I love him.

And some days I love him more than I'm bored.

But every day, I'm dying just a little bit either way.

Hilarity

Today I jokingly called Judah "Hilarious" and Judah jokingly acted offended.

Noah instantly jumped to his brother's defense and spurted out an amazing speech for a 25 month old.

Hey! My...big...brother...not...hilarious!
Why...you...say...he...hilarious?!

Two full sentences! Whoah!

I always feel like Noah is my "bonus" baby. With Judah, I was so caring and attentive - always trying to make sure I was "developing" him well, reading to him, labeling things, eating all my prenatal vitamins. But I let everything slide with Noah. Too busy. Too tired.

If results correlated with effort, Noah should be a mute little toadstool. But he's just as talkative if not more so than Judah was at that age.

I call him my little Grumplestilskin.

And more importantly, he's hilarious too.

A Dream Deferred

I have a dream.

That one day, my house will not have random crap on every surface.
That I will get rid of all the "baby" stuff.
That I will have a cleaning caddy with a sponge, gloves, and detergent under each sink.
That my files will make sense.
And in short, that everything will be ORGANIZED.

After 2+ years of pining and wishing, and hoping, and desperately wanting, this dream was supposed to start becoming reality this week. This was supposed to be the beginning of the 2-week period I set aside for EPIC CLEANUP 2015. I even told the Spouse that I refuse to cook for 2 weeks so I can finally get a grip on the clutter.

So OF COURSE, this is the week my car chose to break down. OF COURSE the check engine light would go on and the car would stutter like a panicked cat. And OF COURSE the mechanic would tell me he fixed it and then I would drive it home the next day, only to find the problem wasn't fixed and I'd have to drive it back and leave it there again and then drive it home again.

All my kid-free time for this entire week has now been taken up with fixing the car.

Story of my life (with kids).

No, it's not their fault the car broke down. But it's typical. The frustration. The constant, unending, frustration. The fact that it takes unbelievable will and grit and determination to move one tiny pebble of fate, only to have an avalanche crash down on you the next day.

It is impossible to get much done with little kids. Just to "maintain" feels like an uphill pipe dream. No sooner have I washed the dishes then someone's spilled and crumbed all over the floor. And no sooner have I swiffered the floors then someone's decided to dump all the crayons and bristle blocks and puzzle pieces all over the house. And no sooner have I cleaned up all that then someone's peed all over the bathroom. Et cetera. Et cetera. Ad nauseum.

But they are cute.

Everyone's favorite time of day - TV time!

 And they love each other.

Brothers

And they are growing up alarmingly fast.

Best buds

Which is how I console myself each and every day I see hundreds of things out of place and cluttered.

Breathe. Focus. Perspective. Repeat.

Mommy Pub

One day I will write about how and why being a mom of babies/young kids is SO FREAKING HARD. But until then, dear child-less readers and older readers who may have forgotten, just take my word for it.

I have never pondered and truly appreciated the therapeutic mellowing effects of a glass of wine UNTIL I had kids, but now, its like a sweet nectar of the gods - restorative, heart-rate stabilizing, courage buttressing, sweet sweet goodness.

Which kinda makes me want to open up a chain of pubs devoted solely to the beleaguered mom crowd - an after the kids' bedtime come and unwind kinda place.

And I've already thought of the perfect name - The Furrowed Brow.

And the name of a regular cover band playing live music would be - Nipple Confusion (which I totally stole from one of the best unwatched movies of the decade, Young Adult).

WHAT THE F?!

One day I will get back to blogging about my kids and motherhood, but today I have to interrupt our regular programming for a very special my-head-is-exploding-with-wonder-and-horror announcement - a little episode I like to call WTF* Gap?

I was browsing their Spring dress line up and came across this horrific little number:

Uh...WTF Gap? My 80's childhood just called - it wants its dress back.

But, the crack Gap designer didn't stop with that. He/she went on to yet another abomination - you know, for when you feel real fancy - denim "color" block!

This one made me laugh too, though it's the least offensive of the bunch. I call it, pillowcase with a waist.

And the denim piece de resistance:

It's like Snoop Dogg meets ladies' medium security prison. Meets low end budget department store.

Seriously Gap, WTF?! Seriously. Seriously?!

p.s. If you actually like any of these designs and I've just offended your tastes, sorry! (Not sorry).

*of course WTF means Why The Frumpery? This is a family friendly blog.

Two Year Olds are (precious, miraculous, angel blessing) Jerks

Noah, having just turned 2 last month, is in the prime of his "jerk" stage, better known as the Terrible Twos.

I've been through this with Judah, but I now realize I had it pretty easy with the first one. Sure Judah was oppositional and prone to meltdowns, but more often than not, counting to 3 worked like magic and Judah would stop screaming after about 90 seconds.

Noah NEVER stops.

Noah, master of death and destruction, aka, your typical strong-willed two-year old.

So when he asks for a random jelly bean right before lunch, I am fraught with indecision.

If I don't give it to him, he will scream and not stop.

If I give him just one, he will ask for another. And another. And another. But after about 4 he is usually appeased and then can go on to eat a decent lunch.

On principle, I should not give him any, but in all practicality, I acquiesce.

This is life with Noah. Full of compromise on my part and oppositional demands on his. I feel like I'm constantly negotiating with a terrorist. And losing.

I've learned one thing - motherhood is NOT good for those who don't have good firm healthy boundaries, aka, me.

I am a weak-willed sheep and my two-year old happily steamrolls right over me.

Almost everything is a battlefield from the minute he wakes to the final closing of his eyes at night.
Let's change your diaper - NOOOOOOOOO!
Let's put on a shirt - NOOOOOOOO!
Let's put on pants - NOOOOOOO!
Let's eat breakfast - NOOOOOOO! CANDY!!!!!!!
Let's put your socks and shoes on - NOOOOOOOO!
Let's get in your carseat - NOOOOOOOOOO!

This is why it's not even 9 am and I'm already worn out every day.

Sometimes I give up on fully dressing Noah. Just pants is a victory.

Noah is also getting into his super jealous phase. He won't let me hug Judah or talk to anyone but Noah. "No talk! No talk! You no talk to Daddy. Only Noah." is something I hear a lot.

Another common phrase is "I do it myself. Nobody help me." Oh independence. I hate you.

And then there's just downright b*tchy behavior. Like last weekend when we were at Cosco and Noah slowly and deliberately picked his nose and wiped his booger on my cheek - all without breaking eye contact with me.

Clearly he was teaching me an object lesson - puny slave woman, you serve at my pleasure. Do not displease me or worse things will I wrought upon your sanity and hygiene.

And to underscore just how far I've sunk, I didn't even flinch.

Grit

This is my body, broken for you.

That's the phrase I recite in my mind every time I lift Noah's bulk weight.

My back aches. My shoulders are tight. My neck is stiff.

He's a heavy toddler but demands to be held constantly like a much younger baby when he's not feeling well. And it happens often now that flu season is upon us.

Also, it doesn't count if your biceps aren't burning. Noah accepts nothing but the toughest workouts (for his mother) - none of that sitting on the couch and holding him. Woman, you are standing up! I need to feel the full weight of gravity!

Sometimes I can't hold him anymore and I just have to sit.

He wails in protest. Angry hot tears streaming down his face.

I endure his screams for as long as I can. And then I gird my loins and endure his weight again, for as long as I can. This is how we pass the hours. The days, weeks. Another season.

This is my body, broken for you.

This is my life, poured out for you.

These are my best years of productivity, set aside for you.

Go ahead and take it all my child.

Stumbling around with you, I am growing into a version of myself that I like much better than the person who was here before you.

Reverse Weaning, if there even is such a thing

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but hey, if it helps another mom out there, all the better.

I'm not sure, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that I am the only mom in the history of motherhood to have this "situation" happen.

About 3 months ago Noah stopped nursing after he got terrible sores all over his mouth. It was sudden and abrupt, but I was fine with it seeing as how he was already 21 months anyway. And because I love and miss wearing high-neck clothing.

But about 3 weeks ago, he started asking for "boo-boo" again. At first I thought it was just a joke and played along with it, lifting my shirt up. But his funny 5 minute joke turned into 15 minutes and then 30 minutes. And before I knew it, he was asking for it multiple times a day - especially when he needed some extra comfort - before and after waking up, when he had major meltdowns, etc.

And now we are back to square one. It's as if he never weaned in the first place!

Funny enough, Noah looked up at me once and said "There's no milk mommy." Yep, that's right son. I explained that "All mommy's milk is gone! All gone!"

And then he chuckled and kept right on nursing.

And then asked for "regular milk" from the fridge.

Obviously I feel conflicted about this. Happy to provide an easy form of comfort to Noah (it's a thousand times easier to soothe him with the boob than holding a 30 pound kid and walking him around for 30 min). Unhappy to go through the inconvenience of "nursing again". Happy to keep "bonding" with my kid. Unhappy to lose some bodily independence.

And then there's the fact that he's my last baby.

But then there's the fact that he's not really a baby anymore.

But most non-modern cultures don't wean until age 3 or 4.

But it just feels weird/wrong to be going backwards.

Ugh.

I Yayu Noah

I've tried and I've failed, again and again.

How can I possibly write a blog post about you, Noah?

To do it justice I would have to fill volumes of books and spill oceans of ink. You have only just turned 2 this week, but already you inspire in me a universe of new worlds ranging from the goofy to the glorious.

As poor and paltry as this attempt is, I must record something before the mists of time dissolve it all.

My sweet Tenders - words fail me when it comes to you.

At about 15 months you learned to say "I yayu (love you) mommy."

At about 18 months you learned to tease "I yayu this much mommy! Big!" [arms open wide] "I yayu this much mommy! Little!" [stingy fingers pinched close together]

Around that same time you liked to ask "Wha wrong mommy?" when I frowned (which was very frequently - at crums, at spills, at disobedience, etc.)

You also picked up the expression "Gotta go!" and "Ready...go!"

When I asked if you were a baby or a big boy you'd look at me coyly and say "I big boy!" and waited for me to fake cry until you said "I baby!"

You cry the hardest and loudest when I scold you for blatant and deliberate disobedience (throwing food on the floor, wiggling around to avoid diaper changes, running through the house with your shoes on, etc). In those times you rebuff any offer of comfort from me, but cry loudly for Judah.

If I tell you that a babysitter is coming, you always ask "Judah be with me?" His presence is as good as ours.

Around 19 months you learned (from Judah) how to pout. When I force you to take turns with a toy, you sit down in a huff and scowl "Oh! I get nothing!" It's pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Your most frequent phrase to me used to be "Eat me mommy! Tickle me mommy!" but recently it's been "Count to 3!" because you want to play hide-and-seek.

The first time I told you a story I made up, you loved it. And then did something your brother never did even though I've told him close to ten thousand tales by now. You said "My turn! I tell you story Mommy." And then you proceeded to tell my story back to me.

And now it's your go-to story, the only one you tell, and you tell it to me almost every day. "One day...Noah a ("and") Judah...a Mommy...a Daddy...go to park. See the goat. A feed the goat a carrot! Goodbye!" (For the record, there really is a goat at our park and we do feed it carrots).

Around 22 months you surprised me when I picked you up from daycare one day. As I buckled you in, you spontaneously said "I happy...for...you come Mommy!"

And since that day, you've been a wellspring of emotional expression.

"I sad for you not come Mommy."
"I angry at you Mommy!"
"I sad. I cry for you in my crib Mommy."

And my favorite one that I first heard the very day you turned 2 "I mad at you Mommy! I want...a other mommy! I no want you!"

Is it strange that your most hostile expressions are the ones that charm me the most? To be honest I don't know why it amuses me so much to watch you ball up in anger towards me as I deny you freedoms for your own well being. No more candy Noah. No more scissors Noah. No putting batteries in your mouth!

I guess I love that you're secure enough in my love to display all your hateful rage.

Because I love you so much Noah. And the greatest joy you can give me is to truly understand that.

Of Marbles and Men

Judah got a twenty dollar bill from his grandparents over Christmas (among other things) and I told him I would let him buy a mom-approved toy the next time we went out.

So yesterday, feeling rich (and very unaware of the relative value of goods) Judah scoured the aisles of Rite Aid looking for a toy. I would have preferred to take him to a store with splashier toys (like Target) but alas, a prescription needed to be filled.

Judah was feeling generous and said he wanted to buy a toy for Noah too. "You can pick out any toy you want Noah, and I'll buy it for you, if Mommy says it's ok!"

After perusing the entire toy section Judah settled on a bag of marbles (50 little ones + 1 big shooter). Here's where I explain that my kids love all things small and shiny. They are like tiny dragons hoarding all kinds of beads, glass pebbles, coins, etc.

Judah previously found a single marble in the dirt at the park and told me it was his most treasured possession, so you can only imagine how mind-boggling precious a bag of 50 marbles would be.

Noah, being the perfect copy-cat, immediately cried for his own bag of marbles. I got one for him too and that's when the crazy-rage started.

For the rest of the time, Judah tried everything he could think of to get Noah to choose a different toy. He could not for one minute abide the thought that Noah would have just as great and awesome a possession as he was about to own. When Noah (reading his brother's desperation correctly and thereby guaranteeing that he would not be distracted from his own bag of marbles) would not be dissuaded, Judah was beside himself with grief and rage.

How was I going to get us out of the mess without someone descending into a giant puddle of kid-scream? I'm not going to lie, I felt like King Solomon himself.

I weighed all my options and decided the least offensive would be to let Judah get 2 bags of marbles while Noah only got 1. I floated the idea to Judah and thankfully it took! Judah was pleased that he still had something "better" than Noah and Noah was still pleased that he had a bag of marbles.

Preschooler treasure chest.

Since that moment, the kids have been hoarding and caressing their marbles like a miser his gold. Judah occasionally snatches up a stray marble that Noah loses in his clumsy grasp and adds it to his already giant pile. Over the course of 2 days Noah's pile has carelessly dwindled down to about 10.

And I'm just loving it. I love watching their naked, grasping natures on display. I find it hilarious and instructional all at the same time - like watching an Aesop's Fable unfold in real life.

The Boy and His Marbles - a cautionary tale of greed and ruin.

In which I explain all day to my kids that Mommy is sad because her Grandpa died

Celebrating his 90th in great health

Today I attended my first family funeral - my maternal grandfather passed away at age 94 (or is it 95? I could never figure out the lunar calendar).

I heard he was gravely ill the day we left for Ohio and I was hoping to see him one more time upon my return to California, but I was too late.

I am, as you could guess from my first sentence, a newbie at death.

But now I know. I am now part of that horrible club - Those Who Have Lost a Loved One.

Those who wish they had spent more time with the loved one before his death.

Those who Regret.

Those who wondered why they didn't and couldn't realize how much they would miss the loved one until his death.

Those who are grateful for distracting kids and general busyness.

Those who grieve.

Those who took for granted.

Those who return to the well of profound sadness in search of solace.

Those who realize that death is still horrible, even in very old age.

It didn't sink in for me until I saw him lying there in his coffin, looking slightly off-color but well enough that I could imagine he was merely taking a nap, as he often did when I visited. He wore all his usual clothes - his one and only worn suit and second-hand sueded vest with shearling trim. And later, Judah reminded me that he also wore his glasses.

Relationships are often complicated - filled with undercurrents of hurt and resentment, disappointment and abuse. But when I consider my grandfather, I feel nothing but the holy grail of unconditional love and acceptance.

Now that I'm a parent, I realize that that is the gift of loving grandparents. A parent and child are too close - too intermingled in their egos and motivations. It is too hard to parse out what is love and what is self-preservation.

But a grandparent is distant enough to be unequivocal.

Others will likely see only the inevitable passing of a very old man, but my goodness how great the hole left in the wake of such love.

That Day

Ah Christmas.

Never is there so much anticipation and effort than for this most special of days.

We gather, we fete, we give, we receive.

And often (always?) to the backdrop of human frailty and despair.

As a child, I remember almost every Christmas was spent "together" yet alone. The gifts under the tree would remain unwrapped until the emotional aftermath of a big fight cleared, not unlike the toxic fumes of a nuclear explosion.

We usually opened our gifts well after the New Year.

But even without huge fights, there is always the insidious whiff of disconnection, the unshakable scent that deep down, all is not well. We are not the cheerfully decorated and brightly lit inner beings we so hopefully display. In fact, it's like they are mocking us.

We are beleaguered. Tired. Exhausted. Sick. And lonely. Aren't we?

Judah is pondering the cognitive dissonance he senses between holiday cheer and the reality of human brokenness. Obviously.

Maybe it's just me. I've been told I dwell on the morose. Indeed I wish it were just me.

But I know too much. I know the broader context and the personal history behind the cheerful photos shared on social media. All is not calm, all is not bright.

Are you sad this day, gentle reader? Know that you are not alone. Far from it. The entire human race and all of creation groans with you. (Well, everyone except Judah who is exceptionally happy with his Christmas gifts - a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle play hut, flashlight, camera, and binoculars).

Thank You Parents of FB

FB might be the most annoying place on earth, but the young parents on FB are freaking awesome.

I posted a plea for survival tips for a 6 hour plane trip with a 2yo and 4yo and got lots of great advice within just a few hours, including a link to my friend Leslie's awesome travel tips blog: http://tripswithtykes.com/

Her blog is destined to be a young parent's classic reference - chock full of amazing, useful, indispensable info from changing nasty diapers at 30k feet in the air to resort and hotel reviews. So proud of her!

90 minutes into our flight and Noah is delighted to find that beverage service includes milk!

Anyway, I'm happy to report our flight went well! All 4 of us sat in our own row (Noah on my lap) and Judah and Noah were happily entertained by the new toys and snacks I continually whipped out - a Leapster game console for Judah, peek-a-boo books and magnetic puzzles for Noah, and many many many bags of pretzels and goldfish.

Michael and I even got to watch a movie on our own for an hour or so. Unfortunately the movie was This is The End with James Franco, Seth Rogan, and Jonah Hill, amongst other adorable degenerates. (Why? Long story, but in a nutshell, for sermon research for the Spouse). But whatever.

We arrived at the Spouse's mom's house to the smell of amazing Korean food and feasted like kings. Seriously I don't think I've eaten so well since...ever!

And then I took a steaming hot shower and changed into fresh non-airplane clothes.

It's so great here, I might just tell everyone I visited an exclusive Korean family resort tucked away in the suburbs of Ohio this Christmas. And I may never return!

Holiday Blur

One of my pet peeves in life (and frankly, I have very few) is bloggers who don't blog.

I just realized I'm becoming guilty of this myself.

I have a TON of stuff I want to share, but alas, no time. The holiday season is owning my sorry, unorganized butt and I just can't seem to find even 30 minutes to write anything meaningful.

There are presents to wrap, cards to send out, parties to attend, people to meet up with, last minute gifts to buy, a cross-country trip to the in-laws to plan for, blah blah blah...

And when I get a little free time, I'm not going to lie, I've been using my new Netflix streaming account like a gambler uses stolen credit cards - furtively and often. My excuse is that I'm sipping my hot tea. I can't just stare into space while I'm sipping hot tea. I need to stare into the warm inviting dutch oven of The Pioneer Woman or the cold hard cells of the inmates in Orange is the New Black.

Recently the Spouse and I have been watching Amazon's best effort to compete with Game of Thrones - Marco Polo. It definitely falls short of GOT with regard to character development and story line, but I love me some history. It's like a documentary with a lot of completely gratuitous sex and nudity. Which means I roll my eyes a lot. So lame.

Well, I've done my duty for today. I've gotten off my own pet-peeve list. But I can't leave without saying something about the kids...so let's see...

This is how Judah dresses every minute of every day. Seriously.

Judah is obsessed as ever with obtaining signs of affection. One day I will have to write a giant blog entry on this rampant behavior (that has me pulling my hair, doubting my parenting, and googling constantly "emotionally needy kids") but today is not the day.

Lately he's been saying:
Raise your hands if you love me!
[I raise my hand obediently]
Now raise your hand twice if you DON'T love me!
[I keep my hands down]
No! I said raise your hand twice if you LOVE me!
[I say - you tricked me Judah! and raise my hand twice like a well-trained monkey]

Repeat 25 times.

Witness the giant pile of my hair on the floor that came from me tearing it out.

Noah, on the other hand, has becoming the most scrumptious thing since buttered bread baked right out of the oven.

There's a mutant alien growing out of my baby's chest! But still cute.

His favorite phrases are:

Tickle me mommy!
Eat me mommy!

Repeat 25 times.

Witness the pile of baby clothing on the floor because the only thing better than tickling a baby is tickling a NAKED baby. Gotta enjoy the chub before it all melts away!

Risking it All for a Morning Hug

Every morning Noah wakes up about an hour before Judah and we hang out together, just me and the baby.

And then we wait for our favorite sound - the sound of Judah thumping down the stairs accompanied by his daily proclamation: Judah coming down the stairs!

It seems counter-intuitive, but life is so much better with both kids around than just Noah. Noah is happier with Judah there. Noah doesn't need me to constantly entertain him when Judah's around. He even mercifully lets me sneak off and go to the bathroom, and refill my coffee cup, and 100 other little movements around the house.

But yesterday morning, I made a big mistake.

Brother - a buddy from morning to night.

When Judah announced his presence, Noah immediately lunged toward him for a hug and a kiss. What mother could resist such a sweet fraternal moment? So instead of allowing Judah to ignore Noah and run to the bathroom because "Mommy! I have to pee right now!!" I told Judah - Just give your brother a hug! He's so excited to see you! (Judah still wears pull-ups to bed so I figured he could just go in his pull-up if he really couldn't hold it in.)

Bad decision.

After Judah finished hugging Noah and went to the bathroom, the next sound I heard was lots of liquid slapping a hard tile floor. And then a little voice - Oopsie, Mommy...

Judah had just pulled down his pants but couldn't get to the toilet in time. He peed like a horse all over the bathroom floor (a la Crazy Eyes in Season 1 Episode 3 of Orange is the New Black).

Hot, steaming, pungent, massive amounts of morning pee.

Ah, "good" morning to me.

Why Cuddling With Kids Kinda Sucks

Look at this face.

Pure cuteness, right?

Who wouldn't want to cuddle wuddle wuddle with this little guy all day long?

And this cute playful human puppy.

You'd think it would be bliss to huggle snuggle this guy and nuzzle his little nose, right?

WRONG.

Totally wrong, oh-people-who-have-not-experienced-the-infuriating-annoyingness-of-my-kids.

To wit:

Last night I went in to say goodnight to Judah and give him a goodnight hug. While I'm trying to hug him he is poking his finger in my ear. Continually. It's like he's digging for gold in there. I get super annoyed but try not to show it because the last thing I need is for my preschooler to get so upset it delays his bedtime by a good 5 - 10 min. Because bedtime is sacred. Do. Not. Mess. With. Bedtime (aka, Freeeeeeeeedom).

I get away diplomatically and then go to put Noah to bed. My little guy likes to cuddle right before crawling in his crib for the night and I'm always more than happy to comply. He has not yet figured out how to annoy the crap out of me by messing with my bodily integrity...until that night. While I'm trying to hug him he is picking my nose. Continually. And giggling like mad.

I've decided that from now on, they can just cuddle each other.

And I will just soak in the cuteness vicariously. From a safe, non-pickable distance.

The Black Turtleneck

I have a giant to-do list, but instead of tackling it, I'm blogging.

This irrationality is driving me crazy, RIGHT NOW.

And yet, I can't stop.

It's like eating Pringles. Just. Can't. Stop. Eating.

I have so much to say and nothing at all. Nothing of any consequence what so ever.

What's with our social drive to share about our lives? Some strong "stuff" there.

So, instead of fighting it anymore. I'm going to scratch that itch. And then call my dental insurance, and then pay my property tax, and then renew my home insurance, and then [insert myriad other boring things that make me want to stick a fork in my eye].

So...things that are going on...

Today is the 3rd day in a row that Noah has refused to nurse. I feel deeply ambivalent. He LOVED nursing and it was his sole source of comfort in this whole entire world. He never took a bottle, never had a pacifier, never had a lovie toy, none of it. When he was scared or tired or sad, he went right for the boob.

For months now I've been longing to wean him, but because he's my last baby, I kept holding out. I set a limit date - his 2nd birthday, after which, the boob shop will be closed. Forever.

I was already planning to celebrate by wearing a turtleneck. I fantasized about what color turtleneck I could wear. I haven't worn one for 4+ years, ever since Judah was born. It was going to feel oh so cozy and modest. And then I was going to stop by the Gap and by a few crew-neck t-shirts.

But a few days ago, Noah told me his "teeth" were "sick" and he refused to nurse. He's also been drooling a ridiculous amount. Either he has mouth sores or he's teething badly. He won't open his mouth enough for me to inspect it. But he does tell me "Noah teeth sick" and "call doctor" and "get medicine."

And then 3 days of non-nursing went by. And today I feel sad. I think this is the end.

The end of an era.

Why do I feel so sad closing up shop now when I was already going to do it anyway in 3 months?

I might as well put on a turtleneck now.

I just didn't realize the color I'd choose is black.

Life, Death, and Love...and the Preschooler

Yesterday I was sitting on the couch with Noah and Judah was jumping around above us. I told Judah - Get down! That's dangerous!

Unexpectedly I heard Noah's little voice chime in - Might fall. Kill Noah. Die. Mommy sad.

Uh, someone's a little melodramatic.

But I think Noah's just imitating Judah's overly dramatic expressions. Judah is constantly asking me how I would feel if he died. This is Judah's latest (in a long line of many) way of seeking affection. It takes the form of the following:

Mommy, if I died, but Noah/Daddy/the whole world were still alive, how would you feel?
(Correct answer: My heart would be broken. I would be sad for the rest of my life.)

And then it's correlative:
Mommy, what if I was alive again? How would you feel?
(Correct answer - must be spoken with eyes twinkling with emotion: I would dance for joy and throw a big party to celebrate! I would be the happiest person in the whole world!)

Just another lost soul lookin' for love.

Judah is (obviously) my needy one. He is constantly asking for affection, devotion, and promises of everlasting, over-the-top, uncompromising love for the ages. It's exhausting.

And sometimes, a little humorous. Today Judah overheard me complaining to the Spouse about all the dishes I have to wash and he instantly formulated a new love-postulate.

Mommy, if I died but all the dishes were clean, how would you feel?

Oh silly child.

If you died, not only would all the dishes stay clean, the entire house would stay clean as well. In fact, it is almost certain that one day my house will be in tip-top shape because you will no longer be under my roof.

And I will most certainly be sad.

Mr. Manners' Mannerisms

Only 3 months away from turning 2, Noah has blossomed into a walking-talking-mommy-charming machine.

He ALWAYS says "thank you" whenever you oblige him and it's completely unprompted. It sounds like "ge-gu mama."

He also is really good at apologizing when he annoys others. The first time he refused a nice bubble bath I made for him, I spoke to him very harshly afterward (which I totally regret of course, ah the mom guilt never stops) saying - Noah! Why didn't you go in the bath?! You love baths! Why didn't you go in?!

And his little reply shocked me - Sorry mama.

Awwwwww.

Noah's adorable "sorry mama" face. Let's him get away with murder, every day.

Noah also is very good at peppering his speech with "oh man" whenever he's disappointed or inconvenienced. For example, he's running to put on his crocs to go outside and play and I say - Noah, it's cold, you have to wear a jacket. And he responds "oh man", just like a real kid! Amazing!

One thing Noah never does is voluntarily say "I love you." I always have to coach that out of him. I have to say - Noah, say "I love you mama!"

And then he says "Yeh-yu mama."

Close enough and it always makes my heart sing, even though I basically have to force it out of him.

Judah was never like that. He was more like a slutty highschool girl - giving it away freely and often. Sorry, is that inappropriate? But honestly, with Judah, all day long it was - I love you mommy! Hug! Kiss! More kisses!

Either way, I'm going to get my kisses before they're gone too soon.

Seriously, can I talk to HR now?

Today I quit.

As a mom friend once said to me when she had her "I quit" moment - I no longer accept this position.

I lasted 4 years as a mom and now I'm done.

Where do I turn in my badge?

I really hate vague writing, but in this case, I'm gonna keep it vague because to list every instance in which I wanted to tear my hair out and strangle little people would be (a) super self-abusive cuz I'd have to relive it all through my writing and (b) super time-consuming because there were maybe 68 instances today alone.

The only really scary thing about Halloween: how close mommy is to losing her sh*t.

Let's just sum it up like this:
--lots of whining and fussing. LOTSSSSSSS. Especially in the car when I can't do a darn thing about it. (Although, in fairness to Noah, he makes a good point when he screams, "STOOOOP CAR! OOOOOUT!!!!! BUCKLE!!!! (translation: undo my seat-belt buckle)")
--lots of clinging on to me. As in, NEVER NOT CLINGING ON TO ME.
--my own struggles with insomnia for the last 3-4 weeks. you know it's a bad day when you have to chug 3 cups of coffee just to have the feeble strength to lift your eyelids up all the way.
--shortest naps ever. Noah napped for 30 min yesterday and 20 min today. UGGGGHHHH.
--Noah's sudden and inexplicable aversion to baths. Seriously, why are you doing this to me oh toddler who used to LOVE baths?!

His cuteness is exactly inversely proportional to his annoyingness - well played God.

So today at 2:30 pm, after Noah woke up from his very offensive 20 minute nap, I snapped. Inside. In my head. I threw up my existential hands and told myself, "I quit. I no longer accept this position."

And then I carried on bathing and moisturizing and dressing and cooking for fussy, whiny kids as usual.

Because. Mom.