Too Tired to Write Anything of Substance

Excuse me while I whine for just a moment...

My three year old child is not sleeping, or rather, he is not sleeping well. This has been a "situation" for the past year. We average one or two good nights a week and that is not an understatement. He is a very restless sleeper and often yells out. LOUDLY. It always starts about the same time: 2.5 hours after he goes to sleep and then nearly every hour afterwards until 3:30ish. Then it resumes again around 5:30 or 6:00. If we can make it past that dreadful hour then we know it might actually be a good night. Lately, we have not had many of those.

For the past two days he has not taken a nap, which makes him over-tired, which makes him unable to sleep at night, which triggers the night-terrors which in turn makes him cranky all day and over-tired and the cycle repeats itself. Over and over. I am nearly at the tipping of point. I can't remember when I last slept soundly and on the rare nights he does sleep, I am automatically awake because I have been trained to awaken every single hour. On alert.

Combine that with my current agitated and restless fretting over whether or not I should go back to work full-time (that's a different topic for another time), and I am just wiped out. Mentally and physically.

Something's gotta give soon.

The Cutouts

Many, many, many years ago when I was a young thing in my 20's I would occasionally babysit my sister's kids. It was one of the many privileges of being an Auntie. I could go over to their houses, play with them, hold them, hug them and then leave and get a good night's rest. Depending on the time of the year, we would do all sorts of seasonally appropriate activities. One year, when my niece and nephew were about 3 and 2 years old I came over to play while my sister and brother-in-law went Christmas shopping. Before they left, my sister showed me where their jammies were, what was for dinner, how to operate the remote and oh! Some cookie dough for Christmas cutouts--won't that be a fun thing to do together with two very small toddlers? In my naive and childless world I thought "Oh yes! That DOES sound like fun! We will bake the cookies and decorate them while they are gone! How fun! How festive!"

What I failed to realize, and only realized years later when I had small children of my own, is that baking and decorating cut out cookies with small children is something that sounds great in theory...but fails miserably in execution. Either one of three things happens: 1) Someone ends up dumping an entire bottle of sprinkles into a bowl of icing and/or floor, 2) A fight breaks out over the bottle of sprinkles and THEN ends up being dumped into a bowl of icing and/or floor or 3) Someone ends up dumping an entire bottle of sprinkles onto one cookie and/or bowl of icing and/or floor and then EATING said sprinkled cookie and then proceeds to be seemingly jet propelled across the entire house for the better part of an hour.

Actually make that three hours. My boys are still amped up beyond belief. Actually as I type this, Liam is laying in his bed laughing maniacally over a JibJab video he watched an hour ago. Oy. Methinks Christmas Eve is going to be a loooooooooong day...

How Did it Get So Late So Soon?

How did it get late so soon? December's here before it's June. My goodness, how the time has flewn! How did it get late so soon?  --Dr. Seuss

Reindeer antlers & a big smile.

"A fire truck and match box cars!" (Sawyer's only wish list items)

Slightly over ONE WEEK until Christmas. Just in case you were counting. Am I prepared?? Not even close. Ahh well. Maybe next year I will be on top of it all.

Yeah, probably not.

PS-Photos are from Sawyer's Christmas program today. Surprisingly, Mr. Ham did NOT sing a single word but rather stood up on the bleacher, nervously playing with his upper lip. He did however, manage to belt out the words to every single song LOUDLY at the dinner table tonight. I guess he just prefers a more intimate concert setting. 

Pausing...

You may have noticed I have been remiss in posing lately... I have a good excuse, really and truly I do! It's just that I have been busy preparing for house guests, my mother-in-law's move, house hunting, trying to finish my final painting, drum up new Dotty Finch business (preferably the paying kind) and start Christmas shopping. I am letting the blogs lag and I am sorry. (Don't feel bad...my other blog hasn't been updated either.)

So the next few weeks might be lean over here in Blog land but I will do my best to post when I can (on both sites). As always, thanks for your patience and your readership.  All two of you.

Here Kitty Kitty

PS-
To follow up on the Mountain Lion situation I posted last week... The Department of Wildlife finally decided allowing a Mountain Lion family to set up permanent residence in a subdivision probably wasn't the best idea. So they tagged them and relocated them far enough away that they shouldn't find their way back into the Mesa Subdivision.

O' Christmas Tree!

Yesterday, while the boys were at school, I snuck out and got our Christmas tree even though we told the boys we weren't going to get it until this weekend. Ken put it up for me and I started to decorate it. I don't know what made me decide to put it up early...normally I wait, put it up and then yank it down the day after Christmas. It's not that I don't enjoy the  holiday... it's just something about having up a bunch of decorations for more then a a week or two leaves me feeling claustrophobic... craving space in an increasingly smaller living space. Plus, the past few years have been hard for me to get into "the season." I put on a happy face for the boys but deep down I just wanted it to be over.

But not this year. This year I am actually really into the whole shabang.  I have had Christmas music playing since Thanksgiving (VERY unlike me). Part of the reason could be that I am no longer gone all day at a job I hate, constantly stressed and pressed for time. Christmas for a working parent means even more time crunching in already time-starved schedule. Even though I miss the income, I certainly don't miss the stress that came with it. (And it's not lost to me that the year I am most excited about Christmas is the year I can't really afford it. Oh the irony!) Another reason I am into it this year is because of a certain tow-headed boy who is over the moon excited about everything. Every day Beanie sees the Christmas tree at his preschool he is just as excited and happy as he was the day before when he saw it. Every. Time. His enthusiasm is infectious and it makes my heart swell.

When we pulled into the driveway last night he spotted the lights immediately. He ran inside and detected each and every Christmas decoration and he did it with MUCH glee. He then "helped" me hang the ornaments on the tree by neatly placing every single one of them on the same two branches. He said "We sure made the tree look beautiful didn't we Mommy?!" We sure did.

Liam, on the other hand, has lost some of his enthusiasm. He didn't want to help decorate the tree because he was busy working on an art project. I see a lot of the little wide-eyed boy growing out of him. He even told me the other day "I'm six years old Mommy. I'm too OLD for toys." It was a sad little knife in my heart. Of course he changed his tune only a few seconds later by showing me his "Wish List" but still...the wheels are already in motion. He has always been a bit of an old soul, and I know that the days of him believing are numbered and I am going to hold onto them as long as I can.

I have only wonderful memories of Christmas from my childhood and I want the same thing for my guys. So this year I am going to fully throw myself into Christmas. We will bake many cookies, we will see many lights and maybe we will even carol. We will make ornaments and maybe even string popcorn garland. (Maybe). And most importantly, I will actually be present and in the moment as opposed to checking off things from my to-do/get-it-done list.

Currier and Ives will have nothing on me.

Brudder, you my best friend in da WHOLE World!

The past few weeks have been a bit of a challenge. I don't know if it is the changing of the weather, the impending holidays or too much quality time together but the boys have been at each others throats. Nonstop. Every time I leave the room I brace for the impending scream, shout, and/or tears that are certain to follow. And I do mean EVERY TIME I leave the room. It is exhausting and infuriating and troublesome all at the same time.

This morning, after the boys got into a heated argument over whether or not the picture on the back of the Clifford cereal box was of a cherry or a raspberry, Sawyer looks at Liam and says "Brudder, you my best friend in da WHOLE world!!" They looked at each other, smiled, ate their cereal and then moments later were stretched across the table fighting again. I just don't understand it. I am convinced it is something that is wired into the "Y" chromosome, or as I like to call it the "WHY?!!" chromosome. As in, WHY must you argue nonstop? WHY must you kick each other for fun? WHY can't Mommy brush her teeth without having to run downstairs and pull you off of one another? WHY?????

Lately it has left me exhausted and guiltily counting down the minutes until school starts.

I know that they love each other and I know that they really are each other's best friend. But they also are at each other's throats nonstop and it is wearing me down. Ken looked at me last night and said "This is great. For the next ten years we won't ever be able to leave them alone in the same room .." Like I said...exhausting. They are either kicking, screaming, or hitting each other OR they are sitting quietly together giving each other hugs and professing their undying friendship and love for one another. (Which coincidentally ends with more kicking, screaming and/or hitting).

 I just don't get it. But then again, I have two "x" chromosomes.

Filed Under: Things That Can Keep You Up All Night

Check this out:

http://vimeo.com/17109560


This lovely footage of a mama mountain lion and her two hungry cubs was taken in the backyard right next door to my friend's house. She lives in Golden near the mesa, which is about ten minutes to the south from our house. Which is not that far at all as the crow flies. Or as the mountain lion hunts.

Apparently mama lion moved in last week and brought her two carnivorous cubs with her. She's just been hanging out in their back yard, relaxing, tending to her cubs and running off to kill and bring back the occasional tasty deer carcass (which you can see them devouring in this lovely video).

To say my friend is a little freaked out with this next door to her...is an understatement and the fact that her neighbor doesn't seem too worried with fresh kill in his back yard? Defies logic.

Red

After nearly 7 months of not doing my hair (aside from washing and drying it occasionally...) I couldn't take it any longer. I used my salon gift card and finally, FINALLY, FINALLY went and took care of "the situation" which had become my hair. I decided to do something totally different and I am digging it.

Results below...

Murphy's Law

The past few days I have been staying up very late painting, and then getting up early when Sawyer climbs into bed with me at 6:00 am. When I woke up yesterday Ken said "Wow-You look rough. You need some sleep!!" So last night, all I wanted to do was get some sleep...blessed sleep. Ken made us all dinner and then joked around with the boys, "Ok boys, now you need to go and put Mommy to bed!" Ha ha.

After the boys were fed, bathed and put to bed I was soon to follow. I came down stairs and sat down to watch a little bit of tv and Ken took one look at me and said "Would you just get some sleep already?!" So I drug myself upstairs and flopped into bed. About ten minutes later I heard Sawyer crying. I tried to tune it out but something about the cry, and the timing made me come out of my coma and go into his room. When I went in the stench of vomit was overwhelming and the poor Bean was covered in vomit. His bed and wall looked like someone threw a bucket of puke all over it. He sat in his bed crying and shocked with what had just happened.

And thus began Pukefest, 2010 and another sleepless night.

I lost track of the number of times he got sick, but it was *a lot*. And every time he would throw up he would cry a tiny bit and then thank me for cleaning him up. He even managed to puke in the toilet AND the wastebasket a few times. I was impressed at his pinpoint accuracy. Throughout it all though he was very sweet and very appreciative--which definitely helps when you have to get up 8 million times in the course of a very long night.

Now if we have any luck at all, Liam will not get it and we can all get some sleep tonight. Here's hoping!

BELIEVE.

The past few weeks have been a bit rough. My mood has been up and down and back again seven ways to Sunday. When I first chose to leave Full-Time Employment in Corporate America to paint and illustrate I was a bit nervous, but generally optimistic that I was going to succeed. Somewhere over the course of the past month the optimism has disappeared and in its place, a gnawing, nagging cyst of doubt has grown. Like any dutiful cluster of unhealthy cells, the doubt has continued to get bigger, eating away at my self confidence. On more days then not, I question "why"? And "how"? And "What-the-hell-was-I-thinking?!" I have become quite frankly, scared. I question myself and my abilities, daily.

I don't like feeling this way.

I like to teach my children to be sure of themselves. I like them to know that if they put their head and heart into something and try their hardest, they will succeed. Lately, Liam has struggled with overcoming his gigantic fear of jumping into the water. We have told him if he believes in himself, he can do anything. So it should come as no surprise to surprise to me that he would turn around and teach me back. Tonight as I was driving with Liam to swim lessons we talked about believing in yourself and in your abilities. For some reason the conversation turned to the painting I am working on and need to deliver tomorrow morning. I told Liam I was really worried that my client wasn't going to like it (because *I* don't like it.) Liam interrupted me and said "But Mommy, you just need to BELIEVE he will like it. I know you are good artist and I like your paintings, but now YOU just need to believe you are good too."

And he is right.

A night with Angie, the Kirby Salesperson

This evening, after I picked the boys up from school I decided to vacuum the house while Ken was out with some former coworkers. The doorbell rang and I made the mistake of answering the door. There was a young woman at the door. I assumed she was a high school student selling coupon books or magazine subscriptions. Oh no. That would have been easier. Instead she held out a bottle of hand sanitizer to me and said "I'd like you to try this for a moment." I said "No thanks. We don't use hand sanitizer here." She said "Oh-you don't use it?" And I replied "Nope. We like to build up our immune system the good ol' fashioned way...by germs." Thinking that was the end of it, the woman turned away and said "Hold on just a second." She returned a few moments later with a large box. Followed by another large box. Before I even realized what was happening she was inside the house asking to clean a spot on my carpet.

And thus, it began.

Immediately I told her "I'm sorry. I cannot buy a vacuum from you. I don't have a regular source of income and I *cannot* (I emphasized this multiple times) spend that kind of money. However, if you need practice giving your speech or need me to sign a paper saying you gave a demonstration so you can get paid...I can do that for you." She told me I was very sweet and continued on with her demonstration. Her TWO AND A HALF HOUR demonstration. Yes, TWO AND A HALF HOURS. At night. In my house.

Without going into detail I can tell you that even though the demonstration was tedious (as well as impressive--those Kirby vacuums are impressive!!) the salesgirl was very lovely and very, very sweet. I learned her name was Angie and she was a single mother of a two year old boy. She had just moved to Colorado and this was her first job. She told me she wanted to earn money to go to art school. She was very good around the kids, namely Sawyer who would NOT lever her alone. He would study her movements while she would attach and reattach different parts to the Amazing Kirby Vacuum and then undo and then reattach the parts when she wasn't looking. Angie was very patent and said that her two favorite things in the world were art and children. She told me seeing Sawyer made her miss her little boy. (Apparently they go out in teams for two weeks at a time and go door to door selling Kirby vacuums). Her parents watch her son when she travels. The entire time she spoke I could see a little bit of myself in her and my heart went out to her.

She tried her hardest to sell me that amazing vacuum even going so far as getting her boss to give me a "special rate" if I bought it right then but at the end of the day I just could not justify spending $1500.00 on a vacuum (which was marked down from $2695!!). No matter how well it sucked up dirt, soaped the floors and cleaned windowsills and upholstery. I just couldn't. She seemed really sad and told me she understood and that I made it clear from the beginning that I wasn't going to buy one. But she was still disappointed. Since the demo ran so late I was trying to fix the boys some dinner and I asked her if she would like a snack and she said yes, so I gave her an entire bag of potato chips. She packed up all of her Kirby parts and made a call to the rest of her team and went outside. I wished her well and shut the door.

Ten or so minutes later I went to pull down the blinds and I saw Angie the Kirby Salesperson, still sitting out at the end of the drive with her boxes of Kirby parts and her bag of potato chips, waiting in the cold for her ride. Something about the scene just broke my heart and made me feel terribly sad. She tried her hardest to sell me a Kirby and had things been different I would have gladly bought one from her. But sadly, I couldn't.

Scenes From A Party...

Three!!

Getting into present dismantling...

Presents!

He loved his "Where the Wild Thing Are" puppet...probably because it is a kindred spirit...

The customary Chef Daddy Cake creation. Sawyer wanted an ambiulance.
Then a fire truck. Then a police car. Then a ladybug but eventually landed back
to Ambulance Cake. (Liam is just as excited as his brother)

Happy Birthday Beanie!

Look who is THREE today?!!!

This turkey.

Happy birthday to my sweet, adorable, silly and happy littlest boy. I love you!!!!

I Love You, But You are Driving Me Nuts.

Ugh.

My nerves are a frayed mess of irritability this weekend. I have one nerve left and each child is taking turns  plucking away at it. Like two mini-lumberjacks with their crosscut saw, back and forth back and forth until it finally gives way with a loud SNAP! 

I love my children more then life itself and I am pretty certain most of the time, they love me. But this weekend...they are trying to kill me. Like predators in the wild, they can smell weakness and they are attacking. Namely, my already precarious nervous system.

Things that were said either by me or TO me this weekend:

"The potty is overflowing!!!"

"We do NOT run away from Mommy at a VERY crowded zoo in a VERY large and dark exhibit!! I cannot see you and someone might take you and then the joke would be on them!" (And yes, I did say that to a certain 6 year old who angry, took off in the Amphibian exhibit on an extremely crowded day. Hell hath no furry then a Mama Bear who can't find her (naughty) cub.)

"I don't CARE. I want to go on the train and I am going to go and that is FINAL!"

"(laughing) Oops! I spilled my milk again. (More diabolical laughter).

and,

"Mommy, I'm sorry I wiped a boogey on your cheek."

Ugh. It's a good thing they are so adorable.

The Acorn (Squash) Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree

When I was 6 years old, I came home from Kindergarden a few days before Thanksgiving and told my Mom..."There's a Thanksgiving program and I need a pilgrim dress. By tomorrow." And sure enough, my dear mother, amidst all of the preparation for Thanksgiving and house guests, managed to turn my Halloween witch costume into a pilgrim dress in only a few hours. I distinctly remember going to school the following morning and being the only child, dressed as a pilgrim, and I loved it. My teacher, Mrs. Sands, paraded me around to all of the teachers and office staff showing off my pilgrim outfit. Now you may be asking...did I really need to have a pilgrim costume for a school program the following morning or was this just something I thought would be pretty neat? While there really was a small thanksgiving program at school (which did not include kindergardeners), and while some kids constructed pilgrim hats and others, Indian vests (made of old grocery bags), wearing pilgrim attire was most definitely optional. As in, an option I probably created in my vivid imagination. (By the way, THANK YOU Mom, for making me that pilgrim dress.)

So it should be no surprise to anyone that my six year old came home yesterday needing to wear "simple pilgrim clothes" for the first grade Thanksgiving feast. "Mommy! I HAVE to wear clothes with simple, dull colors like black or white or grey to go with my pilgrim hat and collar I made at school!" So I dug around his closet this morning and found some black pants, white dress shirt and black vest (the blue and green striped tie was nixed by Liam for being "too colorful for a pilgrim."). When I dropped him off at school this morning was I greeted by 25 little pilgrims? Of course not. There were 24 kids sporting colorful shorts and sweatpants and only one pilgrim. My little pilgrim.

And he was adorable.

Bring out the Gimp

You would not know it at first glance, but Beanie has a bum foot. He took a tumble down a few steps on Saturday night (in the dark, so we are not exactly sure what happened) and ever since he has been Hop-a-Long Jenner. I feared he would not be able to make it around the neighborhood on Halloween with his gimpy foot but he drug it up and down the street, over yards and up over sidewalks. I kept hoping he would wake up the next day with the gimp limp but no such luck. There was never any swelling. No bruising. Nothing. And when you asked him if his foot hurts he always answers "No" and then proceeds to gimp off. Last night he finally showed me where it hurt...a specific spot on the top of his right foot. So today after 3.5 days of solid limping we decided to pay out of pocket (we are in the midst of picking a new insurance plan and are trying to avoid using COBRA$) and get him checked out.

When the doctor came in Beanie was in the midst of hopping up and down and spinning around. She gave me "the look" and I said "No really. This child is limping!" She examined his foot and leg and then had him walk across the room. She took one look at him gimping and said "Oh wow. Yeah, he's got something going on in there." They x-rayed him and he laid there completely still when they moved him around. (afterwards the tech told me he was the best preschooler she's ever x-rayed). The tech commented on how bad he was limping and figured it was probably broken. The doctor came back in and said perplexed, "There is no break! I have no idea what is happening in there but luckily his bones are intact. His limp is so bad so maybe he has some deep bruising. Come back next week if it is no better. Thanks for making the afternoon interesting!!"

So, bad limp but no break. The gimp limps on.

Halloween-The banged up, the gimpy & the ill

Tonight was trick-or-treat! After a rough weekend which included Liam taking a pretty big flying fall off of a piece of spinning playground equipment and landing on his face (hard) and Sawyer taking a spill down a couple of stairs (after trying to navigate them in the dark) which left him gimpy and limpy, and Mommy suffering from a 4 day sinus head/ear/face ache... it was all we could do to get out the door in one piece. But we did and the boys had a blast. Sawyer was definitely into it this year and was giggling with excitement as he limped from door to door. The first door we went to Sawyer gave our neighbor candy from our bowl. "Here. Trick or treat!" She laughed and said "Well thanks! But here, let me give YOU some candy!" It was cute. I am pleased to say every door we went to the boys were very polite and said "Please" and "Thank You" and "No, I only need one piece of candy, thank you". I had more then one person tell me "Wow-what polite children you have!!" Makes me proud.

Here are some pics of pre and post candy consumption. Happy Halloween!!

A gimpy puppy and a banged up Woody

Post-trick or treat feasting. Can you see all of the scrapes on his face?

A sweaty puppy enjoys his treat.

Woody from behind. We had more then one person tell us
"He was built to be Woody! He even moves like him!"

Your Daily Liam(isms)

This morning: "Mom, I think I need a new toothbrush. The tentacles are falling out of this one..."

AND...

"Nothing last forever, but you always will have your rememberies, right Mommy?"

Announcing...

My new illustration blog: http://dottydrawsstuff.blogspot.com/  

Everyday (hopefully) I will pick a daily horoscope to illustrate. This is my way of forcing myself to do one quick! illustration a day, thus building my illustration portfolio to where it should be.

Check it out and if you like it become a follower, pimp it out to your friends and friends of friends and friends of people who might like to hire an illustrator/painter with a quirky sense o' humor. (Emphasis on the hiring part).

Goodbye Mr. Ray

This morning as we were getting everyone ready for school the phone rang. It was Liam's school and they had some sad news. Mr. Ray, the facilities manager at Van Arsdale died suddenly over the weekend and they were calling to let everyone know. I didn't know Mr. Ray and if I met him I couldn't tell you, but apparently he was quite a character and someone the kids adored. (Liam said he took care of things in the cafeteria although I'm sure he did much more then that). I told Liam the news and he listened and processed the information and went back to playing, but I could hear him repeating it under his breath "Mr. Ray died." We then proceeded to get our breakfast and watch the grey storm clouds overhead. Then suddenly, out of the storm appeared a beautiful rainbow and it stretched far and wide to the west. It was a beautiful contrast to the dark skies and blowing rain and I somehow felt it was Mr. Ray's message to all of the kids who had just heard the news minutes before.

When I pulled up to the school to drop Liam off there were lots of sad, crying boys and girls. Two little boys in particular were just sobbing and the other kids looked up at me and said "Mr. Ray died." I told them that I knew and that I was very sorry. I asked them if there were good memories they had of Mr. Ray and immediately the kids brightened and said "He used to try and steal my Oreos at lunch!" or "He was always teasing me and making me laugh!" It gave me insight into what kind of a man Mr. Ray was. I asked the kids if they needed a hug to make them feel better and they said "yes" so I crouched down and hugged them. It broke my heart to see them so sad and my respect and admiration goes out to anyone who has the daily task of comforting hurting children--I am not sure I could ever be strong enough to do such a thing. It was all I could do not to burst into tears myself at the sight of their grief.

I think it is going to be a long hard day at Van Arsdale Elementary...

Please Stand By...

I am in the process of launching a new(!) blog (instead of working on the painting I am supposed to be working on). Said new blog will be solely illustration and will (hopefully) make me crank out one new portfolio piece a day(ish).

Please stand by...more info to come SOON.

A (dusty! crowded! hot!) Day at the Pumpkin Patch

Today I decided to take the boys to the pumpkin patch while Ken was out fishing. I looked online and found the closest one that also had farm animals, and hay rides, and caramel apples and general stereotypical fall activities. I thought it would be cute and fun. What I did not count on was the massive amount of people who would be at this massive pumpkin farm. When you pull up and see flashing highway signs warning you of "pumpkin traffic" and see a police guiding traffic, you know it's busy. What I thought would be an hour o' fall fun instead turned into 3+ hours of traffic and dust and waiting and paying then waiting in lines. And you all know how much I *love* to be around a lot of people. Ugh. My flight or fight  response (actually it was more like "panic") kicked in immediately and all I wanted to do was turn around and get the hell out but I did not. I could not. These two little yahoos were counting on me. And for the record they were actually very, very good.

He found one. Then another one! Then another! He finally settled on this one.

Beanie was less interested in pumpkins and more interested in the dirt (dust!) they grew in...

Calling In Johnny Law

One of the things I like most about my new work-at-home schedule is taking the boys to school. I really enjoy dropping them off and sending them safely on their way. The past few weeks I have been picking up a neighbor boy on our way to school. We pull up to the school, park and the boys race along the sidewalk to be the first to press the button at the crosswalk. I always instruct the boys to wait for me before walking--even if the light is flashing "walk". I warn the boys that just because it says walk, and cars are SUPPOSED to stop, it doesn't always mean they will. Many times as we stand there with the light flashing "walk" a car will drive through the light, oblivious. To say this makes me irate, is an understatement.

Yesterday was the last straw. The boys and I were at the crosswalk preparing to walk when a woman in an Audi went zipping through. Had I been thinking straight and not in a state of seething disbelief, I would have memorized her license plate number. Instead all I could think of to do was yell loudly (and remind  myself there were young children listening so keep it clean) "HEY!! It says STOP! lady! This is a school crosswalk you just sped through!!" I then reminded the boys why we don't just automatically walk across the street even when we have the right to do so because people are lazy. And self-absorbed. And careless. And stupid. Then today, as we stood waiting at the crosswalk another woman drove right through-right next to us  as I looked at her and shook my head in disbelief (I later saw her car turn off into the school parking lot). Seriously??!! Come-on lady! Getting your child to school on time does NOT trump my kids safety. No way.

So I came home for the second day in a row ready to rip someone apart. I called up the local law enforcement and told them that I had had enough. Someone is going to get hurt (or worse). Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Mom. The officer asked me some questions and told me he will be there tomorrow morning to monitor the crosswalk. I certainly hope so.

"Take as long as you want, kid"

Words spoken to me by my 6 year old son. After asking me if I was ready to color with him I replied "let me go check on your brother first" and his response "Sure. Take as long as you want, kid."

Ok. daddy-o.

Please Forgive Me for Spilling a Bottle of Nail Polish on Your Carpet, Mommy

I've said it a million times before...it's a good thing he's so stinkin' adorable.

The Painting. Oy.

Here is the ginormous painting-beast-of-burden I have been working on this month. I deliver it tomorrow morning and I am a bit worried/nervous/apprehensive/nauseated over the whole thing. What if it doesn't hang flat (legitimate concern)? What if it is crooked (really legitimate concern). What if they hate it? Or worse yet, what if they don't love it? It's not ok to have them be just "ok" with it. I actually would prefer they totally hate it verses being "just ok" with it. At least hate is a passionate response.

It's really hard to create something which will be hung up on a wall. Exposed. Naked. Raw. It's like having your heart nailed up for all to see and comment on. When I paint just for my own enjoyment I don't feel this way. Painting has always been therapeutic and I never cared what anyone else thought (if they were even given the opportunity to look at them in the first place). But this painting is different. It is subject matter that I would not necessarily have chosen and it is for someone who has a very definitive idea in their mind and it has been paid for. Like I said...I am nervous.

The pictures below are of the (hopefully) finished painting. The other is me standing next to it for scale. (And yes, it is in the pseudio a.ka. garage.) The lighting and the angle are off but you can get the general gist of it. And please don't tell me you like it unless you do happen to really like it. I am not posting  pictures to get compliments--just sharing...

Wrapped up for transport. Isn't my studio lovely?

4' x 5' painting. Hard to picture/see: layers of textured paint

Future Vintner

Liam figures since I am working on some paintings for a restaurant, the least he can do is design them a proper menu. When I explained they probably already have one, he opted for a wine list...

Please don't report me to Child Services.

Welcome Back, Me

Last week something rather extraordinary happened... I went for a run and for the first time in many, many Post-Boston months I felt (dare I say it out loud?) good. I looked down at my Garmin and was shocked to see I was cranking away some decent mile splits that were reminiscent of my pre-Boston-Marathon-massacre days. For the first time in over six months I felt like I was running nice and easy but my times were (dare I say it out loud?) faster. How could this be?! Since last winter my workouts have felt like real work and my times have been sluggish. I felt like all of the effort I was putting into my running was not being returned. I drug myself through workouts then drug myself through the remainder of the day and then I drug myself to bed only to repeat the drill. And now? Seemingly like the flip of a light switch, (dare I say it out loud?) my mojo has returned. 

When you have been in a severe energy drought (or as my physician calls it "extreme exhaustion") for so long, to have any energy return is akin to winning the lottery. Every day I am amazed that, "Wow. Walking up this flight of stairs doesn't feel like it is going to send me into cardiac arrest anymore!!" I also don't dread the thought of chasing around the boys at the park, loading a washing machine or getting groceries (ok, still dread getting groceries). It is a lovely thing indeed. 

The only thing I can contribute to my sudden energy boost is my recent departure of my corporate design job. Even though I had only been working there part time over the past few months I never realized what an energy sucking vampire it had turned into. Now I am home more and painting more and hoping I can make a go of it as a work-at-home artsy fartsy marathon mommy type.

Today

Today I woke up and the sun was shining. It peeked through my window with its sleepy eyed early Autumn warmth and a gentle breeze was blowing. September in Colorado is absolutely, positively beautiful. Every day is nearly a perfect copy of the day before: big blue skies and plenty of not-too-oppressively-hot sunshine. For the past five years every single September 27th and 28th have been beautiful. I remember this because these days are engraved in my head and heart like a scar.

A wise woman who also happens to be my sister, once told me that you carry your bad memories with you like luggage. Every year the luggage gets a little smaller. You start off hauling a large Army-Issued footlocker around and over time it morphs into a small clutch you can tuck inconspicuously under your arm. It has been five years and I feel like I am now carrying my clutch. I can tuck away the memories and the hurt inside and carry them around with me virtually unnoticed. But they are always there with me and always will be, even if they appear to blend in with the rest of my outfit. Maybe over time, they will get lighter and small enough to carry around in a change purse, but I don't know. Memories can be uncomfortable and awkward and trying to jam them into a small purse? It just seems unrealistic.

Five years ago seems like only yesterday and yet it seems like a lifetime. A different time. A different place. A different reality. But I still wonder... Why?! What-if?! If only I had!! The questions are the hardest and will always take up a lot of space in my bag or clutch. But there are plenty of good memories too (the biggest of which is at school right now) and I am trying to clean out room for them to sit comfortably and safely. It takes too much energy to be sad. It weighs down your head and heart link an anvil.

I went for a run this morning to clear my head and I chose to remember the good. He will always be remembered and missed and loved. He was a good person. He had a huge heart. But he was broken and I couldn't fix him. Focusing on the pain and the hurt only makes my luggage get heavier and I can't be lugging around a bunch of weight when I have two small boys to chase after. And to be honest, I don't think he would want me to. I think he would be happy to know we are well and good and we are loved.

Today I woke up and the sun was shining...

A Liberal Dress Code Policy

Since I have chosen to become an "independent contractor" my appearance has taken a marked, downward  slide into full-blown sloppy. Now that I am painting everyday, there is really no point in getting up and taking a shower only to put on paint-stained clothes. Or no point to apply makeup, wash my hair, etc. And let me clarify something...it's not like I put that much effort into my appearance when I had to go into an office everyday. I've never been into spending a lot of time on how I look-I hate it and the older I get, the more time I need to spend. Don't get me wrong, I like to look nice and presentable and in style--I just don't want to spend any time doing it. At all.

The other day I had a lunch meeting and it was all I could do to put on clean clothes that went together and wash AND dry AND style my hair! I found myself actually getting mad that I had to look nice. Indignant even. I find myself easing comfortably into not caring. I like the extra time not caring allows me. I net an extra 30 to 60 minutes A DAY by not caring how I look. An extra hour a day people!! That is huge! That is an hour I can paint, write, run, clean the house or bake cookies or run to the grocery store. It's like my own private stash of time, tucked away neatly into the span of a normal day. It's gravy.

Now I do start to feel a little guilty that I am not caring. I don't want my children to be embarrassed when I drop them off at school and not offending my husband with my appearance is also important. I just wish I could look decent and presentable without spending any time doing so.

PSSST

We broke another heat record today. Lawsy mercy but it is HOT and DRY and flammable around these parts.

Somebody, please send rain soon...

I'm pretty sure DaVinci had a 6 year old assistant

Yesterday while a very cranky Beanie was taking a very long nap, I decided to sneak out to the Pseudio to paint (because you see, it's not *really* a Studio, but the garage is as close as I am going to get for a while). Liam decided to bring out his crayons and coloring books and papers out to join me. He loves to sit out there while I paint and I love it when he does. He is always so complimentary and so very excited to see the picture slowly revealing itself bit by bit. "Your beautiful painting is looking good Mama!" he will say to me. It always makes me smile--he is very approving and he actually has a very keen eye. I was working on one area of the sky and he would look at the colored sketch I keep for reference and he would make comments "Yes, yes you are doing a good job. See this sky in your picture?? Your painting looks the same. The white matches what you have on this picture."

When he gets a little bit older I will let him help me more. Right now he likes to talk about colors and how one color makes another one, etc. He likes to ask me why oil paints stay wet so long and why I use the certain brushes and colors that I do. I love it, I really do. It was always my dream to have at least one of my kids be interested in art and so far, Liam seems pretty interested. He loves to paint and draw and write stories and create all sorts of neat little things. Sawyer likes art too. I was watching him color yesterday and he was very deliberate, very methodical with his strokes. He is not the typical 2.5 year old who scribbles on a piece of paper. He sits down and very carefully makes his marks and tries very hard to color in the lines (which I have NEVER encouraged the boys to do. Ever. I'm a color outside the line kind of girl). With certain things (his room NOT being one of them), he really likes and needs order. Maybe he will revive the Color Field art movement...

Neverending Summer

Sunday it was 96 degrees here in sunny, blue skied Colorado and today it is supposed to be every bit as hot. The boys went to school in their tank tops, shorts and sandals and it occurred to me this morning that they have not worn pants at all this school year. They have all sorts of cute pants and long sleeved shirts that are still sitting in their dressers with the tags on them...on deck for when fall decides its time to make an appearance.

Jillian, (aka Juu-weee-an)

Sawyer has a new friend at school and I am not sure if he knows it yet. Her name is Jillian and she is a blonde haired, blue-eyed little pixie with a dimple. Every morning she runs in and says excitedly "Well HELLO!!!" and runs over to Sawyer. He always seems a bit shell-shocked because she is on him like a second skin the minute he walks through the door. Yesterday when we arrived she immediately ran over and started to help Sawyer take off his jacket. Dazed and confused (he does not transition easily in the mornings), he stood there as Jillian said "Here, let me help you with that." She then took his jacket off then took it over to his cubby to hang it up for him. I told Beanie, "Can you thank your friend?" and Sawyer replied shyly, "Thank you Juu-weee-an." As I turned around to leave I saw her coming back over and taking his hand and leading him over to the toys. She sees him start to cry and she comes right over. I am not sure if she is so friendly and helpful (and motherly) to all of the kids or if it is just Beanie but it is pretty sweet to see.

Today was the first day in two weeks that he did not cry at drop off. I think he is finally adjusting. Pick ups have been great this week and he has actually been outside playing with the other kids instead of standing by the fence, tearfully looking for his rescue party. Every day his teacher, Miss Aimee has told me he has had a great week and Beanie will repeat "Miss Aimee said I had an awesome day!!" He always recounts the day and it always makes me smile.. "Today Parker had an ax-ident and peed outside! Today we payed in the gym then had snack! Today we read a book about trucks! Today Kianna played wit me! Today Miss Aimee said I had an awesome day!!"

Like I said, it makes me smile.

"And now I intend to learn about Bones"

Last night Liam pulled out his book that he brought home from the school library last friday. It was called "All About Your Skeleton." I was actually excited because it is the first book in over a year that he has brought home from the library that did NOT involve Rain Forests and/or the Amazon. Not that I have anything wrong with these topics...it's just that a little variety would be lovely.

When I asked him why he chose this new book he said "Well, I took out all the books about Rain Forests and now I intend to learn about bones." Yes. He intends to learn about bones. And skeletons, and muscles and nerve endings and various diseases that can plague all of the above. We sat down together and he read through about half of the book. I am continually shocked at how quickly he is reading and comprehending WHAT he is reading. He was sounding out pa-tell-a, and fe-mur and po-li-o and I just sat there in silence trying to keep up with him. He gets very agitated if I stop him because he is reading goshdarnit and can't you see his is busy learning stuff??

Sometimes he gets going so quickly that he jumps over words and just assumes it is the word he is reading. For example he may read "Someone discovered the nerves can..." when really it says "Scientists discovered that nerves carry..." I am fairly certain this is one of the things Mrs. Douglas will be focusing on with him...getting him to slow down and not make guesses or assumptions. The one thing she told us during the Parent Orientation was that they don't want kids reading too far above their age levels. This is to prevent a first grader from reading something written for a 5th or 6th grader and which may scare or confuse them because it is above their maturity and/or comprehension.

Which makes me wonder if reading a book about bones, and blood, and disease and yes, even "amp-u-tat-ions" is such a great idea for a 6 year old? Let me think about this and get back to you after Liam takes his MCAT.

FISH!

As promised, documentation of our fishing trip...

Fish, Hiking & Hunger pains--The Weekend in Review

This weekend marked the first weekend, in nearly forever, that Ken and I went away together sans children. (If you may recall, the last time we attempted such an outing our trip was cut short and I ended up nearly in traction from a snowboarding injury...) We decided to go up to Vail (actually more like Beavercreek) and spend three days and TWO WHOLE NIGHTS AWAY! from our brood. The plan was for Emily to come early Friday morning and stay until late Sunday afternoon. It couldn't have worked out any better...the boys have been missing her something awful and were more then happy to ditch Mom & Dad in order to spend a few days having a "slumber party" with her and since she hadn't seen them in a few weeks, she was eager to spend the time with them too.

So Friday morning Ken and I set out early to make to Vail by 8:30 so we could be in time for my fly fishing lesson (yes, me. Fly fishing). Ken is an avid (read: obsessed) fly fisherman and I wanted to give it a try to see what all the fuss was about. It turns out I really enjoyed it. I love being around the water and my only complaint was that I got a bit chilly standing outside for 5 hours (it was only about 55 that day which is too sudden of a chilly shift in temperatures for my liking.) I ended up hooking about 8 or 10 fish and managed to get one in to shore where the guide promptly documented it (picture proof to follow soon...). We then drove to out beautiful hotel in Beavercreek and got settled in and realized we were starving because we literally had not eaten anything all day and it was 3:30 in the afternoon, which meant it became our only meal of the day. You will soon see this is a reoccurring theme for the weekend...

Saturday I woke up instinctively at 5:30am but forced myself to go back to sleep--out of sheer principle. If I was going to be away from my children I was going to make myself NOT move for as long as humanly possible. I managed to make it to 7:30. Ken followed suit and we were immediately up and caffeinated and dressed for a hike/run outing. Armed with only a hotel trail map, water and a granola bar I got from the Front Desk we set out for a hike, not really sure how far or how long we were going to be out. I don't think either one of us planned on being out nearly six hours and hiking over ten miles of ski slopes but we did.  (Note: it turns out the illusive "Green Trail" on the map and the trail we kept hiking towards was really the "Ski Boundary" notation. Ahem. ) When we drug our dusty, partially dehydrated and starving bones back into the village we immediately sought out food and beverages. To be honest I think we were still starving from the day before. Again, that ended up being the only meal we ate that day. Why, you may be asking yourselves? Because by the time we finally filled our gullets with food we were too pooped to do anything else but shower up and relax (which after all, was the entire point of our trip away in the first place).

Sunday morning brought two tired and beat (and yes, STILL hungry) people. We got up, dressed and drug our sorry butts on a short run up and down the village. There are no flat areas there-you are either climbing slowly or descending rapidly. We finished our run, cleaned up and checked out in pursuit of "the Killer Breakfast". We asked the concierge and he recommended "Route 6" diner. A local favorite. After getting sidetracked a bit we found it and got in line and waited. And waited. And waited. I wanted to cry and or/slap someone I was so very hungry. Because we were desperate to feed we agreed to share a table with another couple who turned out to be very friendly. The woman is an opera singer in Denver and teaches Opera at DU. That was the first time I had ever met a certifiable opera singer. Very cool. The food finally arrived and we inhaled it then set off to hang out the river for a few hours before heading home.

When we were almost home we got rerouted by police officers. We found out later there had been a brush fire in the area (again with the fires around here!). The boys greeted us happily and Sawyer showed me where he had spilled fingernail polish on our bedroom floor while Emily was in the shower as well as the tomatoes he had chosen to harvest himself and then mash into the grass with some sort of mysterious garden implement (although he claims that it was Daddy! No, Liam!  No, it was Mommy! who did it...) Turkey.

All in all, a really enjoyable week. Minus the starvation and the finger polish incident.

Boulder Burning

As many of you non-Coloradoans may have heard or seen on the news, there is a massive fire in the canyons just outside of Boulder. MASSIVE. It breaks my heart every time we turn on the news and see more coverage. We live about 30 or so minutes south of Boulder and we can see, smell and feel the smoke. I can only imagine what it is like the closer you get into Boulder. We have a couple of friends who live in Sunshine Canyon and as of tonight, there is still no word as to whether or not they will still have a home to go back to once the fire is out and the evacuation is lifted. I am hoping for the best for them but it isn't looking good...

So why are we here, anyways??

Tonight at dinner, out of the blue and completely unsolicited, Liam turns to me and asks "So why are we here anyways??" I stopped and asked him "What are you referring to?" He answered "People. Why are people alive? Why are we even here???" 

THUD (the sound of my jaw dropping and hitting the table).

It took me a moment before answering, "Well, that is an excellent question and one that I oftentimes ask myself."  And I DO ask it of myself. Often. What is our purpose? Why ARE we here anyways?? We live everyday and do the same things day in and day out and then we die and the cycle is repeated and only a fraction of a handful of us do anything truly extraordinary. Most of us just exist. Nothing more and nothing less. Of course I didn't tell him any of these thoughts. I instead answered "Well, I guess we are all here so we can carry on the human race. It is kind of our job everyday to get up and keep on going and to try and do things that in the end, will make the world a better place" This answer seemed to appease him. 

And then he asked, "Well where do people come from??" At first I thought 'Oh joy. We are finally going to have THAT conversation and Ken is away from home and gets to miss in all of the fun!' But then I realized that was not what he was asking. He wasn't asking how one person is created, he was asking how were ALL people created?

Again, THUD.

And again, another question I struggle with. Admittedly not the most religious person, I thought of my words carefully. I explained to Liam that some people believe we evolved from animals, like an ape, slowly over time until we are like we are today (which he found preposterous) and I told him how some people believe we were created by God and that we all came from one man and one woman (which he found slightly less preposterous, but barely). I finally ended with "It is really up to you to decide what you choose to believe. Whatever feels right to you is the right answer." He replied to me" Well maybe we should look it up on the computer." Yeah, maybe.

It is the days/nights like this when I think Liam is a bit of an old soul. The things he thinks about (at barely 6 years of age) are things I never contemplated until my angst-filled artsy fartsy teenage years (and later). If he is so observant and questioning now, I can only wonder how he will be when he is a teenager? 

At this rate he may have it all figured out and if he does, I hope he shares the answers with his Mom.

Reader's Digest Abbreviated Version of the Past 5 Days...

Condensed and Abridged:

• Liam rode his bike SOLO for the first time. The look on his face when he realized no one was holding onto his bike...priceless.

• Sawyer did NOT cry at preschool drop off!! (Of course he was crying when I picked him up and has cried every day since but still...progress)

• I have officially been commissioned to do THREE large scale paintings for a restaurant. Three LARGE scale and permanent pieces...sweet.

• I learned tonight at School Orientation that the reason Liam's desk was already moved in class was not because he was talking too much, but because other kids were talking too much and he volunteered to move. Mrs. Douglas said he is doing "amazing." (that's my brainy boy!)

And lastly,

• Only one more day until my emancipation from my corporate design job. (And there was much rejoicing).

Course Correcting

A few months ago I made the decision to take a giant leap of faith and leave my full-time job at Noodles & Co. The plan was to phase out and be out of there officially by May. And then June. And then July. Etc. I have been slowly "phasing out" for the past 4 months but never really able to break away. Much of this is my own choosing. Like a habitual life-long smoker, I was terrified to quit cold turkey. I was scared to give up a bit of security (and frustration, and grunt work, and exhaustion) for full-time uncertainty. I had a lot of friends warn me that working part-time then trying to go home and work for yourself part-time was madness. They warned me that my productive time would be spliced in half, verses increased.

And of course, they were right. I was afraid to break away completely but I knew it was finally time. I needed to officially cut the cord. So I put an "expiration date" on my Noodles life (September 3rd).

And then I got an email...

Out of the blue, a local company contacted me about a design position. They had tracked me down from a mutual contact and wanted to talk to me. We talked. They liked me and I liked them. So they brought me in for an interview. And then another interview and then a "final interview" with their CEO. I was torn. I really liked their company and what they were trying to accomplish but I struggled with that little nagging voice inside my head, warning me that I was straying from my directive. Was I bailing on my dream? Selling myself short for an "easy out?" And then to further complicate matters, I received an email from someone whose company I used to work for, who wants me to do some paintings for his new restaurant and could I get started on them soon? This email came the same day that my friend (and former boss) called to see if I would be interested in meeting with her new boss about the possibility of doing some illustrations at some point in time for their children's line of clothing. I started to consider the possibility that Fate was trying to intervene. Possibly.

But a full time job close by my house? Think of the benefits! And the salary!! And the location! But then...there were the hours. The workload. The anal retentive CEO. The lack of a post-run shower facility in their office... What to do, what to do, what to do??? It was the equivalent of being asked to the Prom by the safe, kind, guy who is a friend (and probably great relationship material) when what you really want is to be asked out by the dashing, dark, brooding and slightly-dangerous guy (the one who, more then likely, will leave you heartbroke, crying and wallowing in a pint of Ben & Jerry's while wearing the same bathrobe for two weeks) .

And then as quickly as it all came in to my life, it went away. The decision was made for me...they decided to go with another candidate but would possibly utilize me for some illustration work somewhere in time. I got the news while waiting in the Pediatrician's office with Liam. I sat there a bit stunned. Honestly, I thought (rather vainly) the job was MINE to accept of deny. So when they told me they went with someone else I was a bit stunned. And annoyed (I mean, they DID come looking for ME after all!) And sad. And relieved...all at the same time. I kept telling myself (when I thought the job was mine) that whatever happened was what was meant to be and it would be a cosmic sign that I needed to heed. So after some hours of thinking it through (mixed with some hysterics over the thought of no more insurance, no steady pay check, etc--all things I thought I had come to terms with when I agreed to leave Noodles in the first place) I decided it was going to be alright. Things are going to work out. I will pursue my painting and illustrating and still be able to pick up my babies from school and not feel like the worst Mom of the year when I can't make it to "Pumpkin Patch Day!" at preschool.

My life has just course corrected itself yet again. Life sails on.

Can't talk now...it's Migraine Season!

Day two of a migraine. Which came exactly three days after my last migraine, which, (unoriginally), also lasted for two long, nauseating days. No matter what I take or don't take, the migraine hangs around like the annoying  Magic Carpet Stain Remover salesman guy who comes around our house seemingly weekly and who never takes "no!" for an answer.

I wish for it/them to go away. Stat.

First Day of School

Well it's happened. School has officially started. I am now the mother of a first grader and a preschooler. (gulp). Everyone survived the first day of school and Mom only sobbed off and on for a few hours. I thought dropping off Sawyer would be the majority of my waterworks but I was mistaken. Watching Liam line up with all of the other first-graders nearly did me in. Their backpacks are nearly as big as they are and I am fairly certain Liam's weighs more then he does.

About those backpacks...

I have nearly been done in emotionally by something as seemingly innocent as a backpack. Yesterday, the sight of Sawyer wearing his miniature-scaled "Thomas the Tank Engine" backpack while walking bravely and tearfully through the Preschool doors just about did me in. I still get choked up thinking about it. The drop off yesterday was as painful as I thought it would be. He cried and begged me to take him home and when he realized I would not he cried and begged for me to "leave brudder wit him" Excruciating. There is not much worse then having to have a stranger pry your crying, sobbing and terrified baby from your arms as you run for the door. I cried for a good twenty minutes after in my car.

Liam told me "Stop crying Mom! He'll be fine!" And I KNOW this. I do. But as I told Liam, it is hard to watch your babies (and they will always be our babies) feel so alone and scared and sad. I reminded Liam that I did the same thing with him when I had to drop him off for the first time. I remember him begging and crying at the daycare window, hands flat against the glass crying for me to come back. Torture. But it is good for me to remember these things because now,  Liam could really care less if I drop him off anywhere. If I get even so much-as a hand-wave as some form of acknowledgment when I tell him goodbye, it is a miracle.

I know soon enough Sawyer will get used to school and love it as much as his brother does. He'll also get to the point where he will hardly care if I'm dropping him off or not. And regardless of their ages or grades I will still be left quietly crying in the car over a backpack.

Happy Birthday to You, but Mommy is Blue

Today my oldest child turns six. SIX! I know you hear every parent say the same thing "my, where has the time gone??!" but it is so very true. I woke up this morning feeling a bit blue. My baby starts preschool tomorrow (more then likely against his will) and my oldest one starts first grade where he will be gone all day. He will eat lunch in the cafeteria and be asked to sit at a desk for the better part of a day. I find myself staring to fret..."He's used to getting snacks in the morning! They won't give him snacks and his blood sugar will plummet and he'll have a meltdown and there is no way he can sit still at a desk all day!!!"

Breathe.

I know he will be fine. I know he will be one of many wee first graders new to a full day of school and he is so excited to be back. And even though I didn't feel a love connection with his new teacher like we all did with his old one (Mrs. Jessen), I know she will be good and patient and kind and he will be just fine.

But he's my baby.

I worry about him just like I worry about Sawyer. All day today I caught myself just staring at him, remembering how he looked that very first minute I ever laid eyes on him from across the operating room...so beautiful. So little. So perfect. I remember when I was finally able to hold him feeling for the first time an overwhelming, knock-you-to-your-feet ferocious surge of love and thinking "So THIS is what I am supposed to do with my life..." And just like it was and is when I look at Sawyer I wondered...how did such a beautiful little person come from me? I am humbled and awed by it still.

And now when I look at my first baby I see the tall, lean boy he is growing up to be...the intelligent, ever inquisitive, loud and gregarious, sensitive, generous soul who marches to the beat of his own drum and doesn't much care if anyone marches with him. I pray he keeps these qualities forever. I pray he never loses his way and feels pressure to be just like everybody else. I pray he is happy and healthy and comfortable in his own skin because he is absolutely perfect, just the way he is.

I love you my sweet, wonderful boy. Happy birthday. XOXOXO

Uh Oh

Today has been a very, very LONG day. (So long in fact, that I wish somebody would invent a device to read my thoughts and transfer them to text so I wouldn't have to stay up late and write this down...) Work was very bad. Doctor's appointment was tiring, Sawyer's first day of preschool...very rough (more on that another day). Then to top it all off Liam started to complain of an earache tonight. He hasn't had an ear infection in three years...I foolishly thought we were out of the woods. He suddenly started to cry around 5:00 and grab his ear. I am wondering if he may have swimmer's ear from his last swim lesson yesterday? I gave him some motrin and he laid on the couch and fell asleep. We urged him to get up and try to eat but he wasn't hungry. He immediately went and fell asleep on the couch. I carried him up to bed at 8:30 and had him go to the bathroom and it was all he could do to muster up the energy to do even that much. Tomorrow is his teacher evaluation at school as well as the eve of his birthday party (as well as the day Mommy needs to get one thousand things done for said birthday party). I am hoping a good night's sleep will do wonders for him and he will wake up miraculously feeling better. 

Crossing fingers...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Liam had his much anticipated, long-awaited cavity filling today. He has been counting the days for the past two weeks, eagerly anticipating "The Dental Appointment." He was brushed, flossed and ready to go by the time I got home from work to pick him up. We got to the appointment early (a half hour early because Mommy forgot to mark down the correct time) and when it was finally his turn he was a happy guy. His first question was "So which movie do I get to watch?" (truly the main selling point of the whole cavity filling procedure). The dental assistant got him all situated with a movie, headphones and glasses and then hooked him up to the Nitrous Oxide. So far so good. Then she began to prepare his mouth for the procedure by propping his mouth open which was when Liam started to think maybe this wasn't going to be the treat he initially thought it was. He started to grab at the gear in his mouth and I had to gently keep reminding him to let Dr. Betty do her job (this was after bopping poor, sweet Dr. Betty in the nose as he tried to grab the tool out of her hand). I could tell the laughing gas was making him groggy and out of it--I imagine he felt like he was in a bit of a dream.

All in all though he did fine. Dr. Betty filled the cavity (luckily there was only one) and Liam was able to remove the much hated dental dam from his mouth. They rewarded him with a popsicle and all was forgiven. I asked him afterwards what he thought of the experience and he said "In some ways it was better then I thought it would be and other ways it was WORSE." I guess 50/50 isn't all that bad.

Running Through It

I think I may have mentioned recently how run down I have been feeling. At just about any given time of the day I just want to lay down. Of course,  I still make myself get out and run or work out because I know I'll feel exhausted regardless, so I might as well just run through the fatigue and at least feel better mentally.

So it occurred to me on my run today (as I was slogging through the miles feeling tired and slow) that throughout my numerous years of running I have had to "run through" a lot of things. I started to count up the times I have either felt particularly bad or been going through really bad times in my life and yet I always "ran through it" no matter how poorly I felt. 

I've run through anemia, stress fractures, bronchitis, morning sickness, bulging discs, a ruptured disc, Norovirus a.ka. Cruise Ship Illness, dehydration, ischemic collitis, illiotibial band syndrome, migraines, moving to a new state, bad states of mind, job loss, separation, loss of loved ones and numerous other day to day struggles and yet...I run.

 I might be a crazy nut job but at least I don't quit (even though there are times when I probably should). 

I Yove You Mommy

Evenings are my favorite part of the day. After the boys are fed and bathed and the kinetic energy of the day is ebbing we sit on the couch and snuggle. Sometimes it is only for five minutes and other nights, longer. Having both boys in my arms and by my sides is better then absolutely anything else I could ever imagine. Hands down, wonderful. I tell them this all of the time and Liam now will repeat it back to me "This is your favorite thing, isn't it Mama?"And then he'll ask "Do you love it even better then running?" And I always answer "Better then running and anything else in the whole wild world." And I mean it.

Then just when you think it can't get any better you take a night like tonight when the littlest one puts his arms behind your back, lays his head on your chest and looks up at you with those big, gorgeous blue eyes and says unsolicited...'I yove you Mommy! I yove you SOOOO much!!" it can bring you to tears by the pure beauty of it all. As rough and tumble as Beanie is, he is equally as loving. A few days ago I was holding him and he leaned in and squeezed me tight and said "I am so happy I have you!" It made my heart (and eyes) swell.

No matter how hard some days are and how challenging the boys can be at times it are these sweet moments that erase everything negative that came before it. It is like an emotional battery recharging for  your soul. And tonight, my batteries are fully loaded.

Goodnight sweet boys. I yove you both SOOOOO much.

I know...you're welcome!

We are entering into the start of the 8th day of potty training and Beanie is still doing really well. He finally, FINALLY seems to be open to the possibility of perhaps, maybe allowing his poop to go in the potty instead of in his pants. The past two days he has actually went IN the toilet and I think he maybe is starting to figure it all out. He gets so upset if it doesn't happen instantly. He is very impatient and I have NO idea where he gets that from...

;-p

Every time he goes potty we tell him of how proud we all are and every time without fail he will answer "I knooooow! You're welcome!" As in, "yes I realize how happy this makes you and you are just lucky I am allowing you all to experience my success. You're WELCOME."

Makes me giggle every time.

Potty Time!

This weekend was supposed to be the official commencement of Potty Boot Camp. The time when we strip Sawyer of all of his diapers and force him into wearing underwear and chasing him around all day making sure he doesn't pee or poop in the house. Or the front yard. Or the dog dish. I had a weekend of house arrest planned. The boys and I weren't going to stray 3 yards from a toilet.

But then something amazing happened. On Wednesday morning when Sawyer woke up and I was changing him I asked if he wanted to wear his NEW undies that he picked out (Yo Gabba Gabba undies) and shock o' shocks...he said "Ok!" This was a mere ten minutes after he informed me he didn't want to go potty (EVER) because a mean girl "picked him up and flushed him down the toilet one time." When he told me this I asked him if that REALLY happened and he smiled and said "Yes...(pause) no. I just kidding." Turkey.

So back to the undies...he really appeared to want to wear them and I was not about to discourage him. I asked Emily if she was up to the challenge and she said "bring it on. I'm ready!" Oh bless Ms. Emily!! So that day he had multiple accidents (unsurprisingly) but Emily kept trying. She could tell he was scared to let it go into the potty so we came up with the idea that afternoon to take the potty outside. She did, and not more then 5 minutes later he peed! Not in the potty, but under the tree in the general vicinity of the potty. Everyone cheered and it was like something clicked in his sweet head. After he would say "The pee pee is coming out!!" whenever he felt the urge. He was able to hold it and the next time he actually peed IN the potty. And he has been going in it ever since.

Today I actually took him to the Apex Center (for over an hour), to the coffee shop and to get his hair cut and no accidents! Of course he had yet to poop in the toilet (aren't you glad you read my blog?) but to make a long story short...he was FINALLY able to accomplish #2 tonight in the potty. Hooray!!! He seemed very excited when it finally happened (as were the rest of us). Today marked a totally accident free day after training only 3 days.

Of course I know there are many messes and set-backs ahead, but for now, I am choosing to bask in the victories. And while I don't want my babies to grow up too quickly this is one part of "the early years" I am happy to see end.

Look Ma...a Cavity, or two.

Today was Liam's 6 month dental appointment and yes...drumroll...he has a cavity. Maybe even a cavity and a half. They won't really know for sure until they go in to fix the other one. So we have an appointment in two weeks to repair it. Liam is already excited by this. He is one of those rare breed of humans who actually LIKE going to the dentist. He is fascinated by all of the tools, the lights and the BUTTONS. Oh! The buttons you can press when you are at a dentist's office!

The entire time Dr. Betty was explaining to me what they would do Liam was busy peppering her with 8 million questions all while fondling the headlamp/glasses she had draped around her neck. "What happens if I press this? Where does that tube go? When I pull on this will it break???" Poor sweet Dr. Betty. I think she was exhausted by the time we were out of there and lucky for her...she gets to see us again in two weeks!!! Hooray... meh.

I'm sorry Dr. Betty. I can't help it. I have given birth to very, very intelligent and inquisitive boys. Last week when we were siting in the airplane Liam asked me "So how do planes fly exactly?" And being an artsy fartsy type with little to no aptitude for mechanics or science, other then responding, "you pay a lot of money for cramped seats and no amenities"... I didn't know how to answer  him. So when we arrived at LAX and Liam immediately started explaining to Grandpa Bill how planes fly, I shouldn't have been surprised. "I know how they fly Grandpa! The "boosters" on the back of the plane spin so fast and make so much wind it causes the plane to move forward. I know this because I watched it and I saw how it worked." Aside from calling the engines boosters, he was right of course.

He already gets so many things with little explanation from anyone. He asks a million exhausting questions but all he wants to do is just figure things out. He is wise beyond his years in so many ways. I am waiting for the day when he will realize he is far superior in intelligence then his mother.

But he probably knows that already.