beanski

urge

I have this overhwhelming urge to change something. Buy something big. Change jobs. Start a business. Book an expensive vacation.

I have had a hard time putting my finger on just what I'm looking for or what I feel like I'm missing.

It is just stress, I think, but it is suffocating. The work deadlines that I have been working towards for three years are looming and I have a lot of work left to do. That's fine and everything, I do know how to work hard or at least I used to, it's just that I don't really care if it gets done on time. And shouldn't I care?

The kids are getting bigger and I guess I magically expected things to get so much easier once we got out of the baby stage. I didn't account for the three-year-old phase. The phase where she talks back about EVERYTHING. About how she takes all of her frustrations out on me on her brother and her dad. Gone is my little snuggly girl wanting mommy time and in her place is this bossy little being who doesn't do anything she doesn't feel like doing. Like, she WILL NOT nap anymore but then turns into a raging lunatic around 4PM because guess what? SHE'S FRICKING TIRED. She doesn't believe me and insists that she's "not tired" because she turned three and now she knows everything and I know nothing.

Apparently.

I spent a weekend on Rainy Lake for the first time in a few years where I actually got to take the time to feel my hair floating in the water. I spent time sitting on my parent's boat drinking white wine with my mom and talking to my dad about Twins baseball. I want more. More lake time. More mom and dad time. More husband time.

So, when we got home, I bit the bullet and I hired a babysitter. I spent a night on the beach with my husband and my long lost friends and it was awesome and then we got stuck by barges going under the lift-bridge coming home and I LOST IT because I didn't want to be late getting home to the first babysitter I've ever hired.

It doesn't matter how many babysitters I hire or how many weekends I spend on the boat or how many beach vacations I spend hours planning in my head. At the end of my little mental break, I'm still The Mom. The pressure, the worry, the responsibility, it never goes away.

There is always someone in need of new shoes or a trip to the pediatrician for the well-baby visit that isn't covered by our crappy health insurance. There is always swimming classes and ballet classes that I never actually register the kids for because I forget or don't have time but then I spend so much time feeling guilty that they aren't getting those experiences that I should have just taken them to class in the first place. There is another week's worth of dinner to plan and another 14 baskets of laundry to put away.

Most days I can handle it. I do my job and I kiss my children and I thank my lucky stars that I have them and that I am married to a really kind man.

And some days I just want out. I want to quit my job, sell the kids on ebay, and run for the mountains.

Today, I read this post and for long enough for me to write this post I felt it was OK for me to complain. She must have broken in and stole those thoughts from my own head. I know someday Ski and I will have all the time in the world and twenty bucks says that I spend most of it sitting around missing my babies.

the ski family

Ski's mom scheduled a photographer to take pictures of the whole Ski gang over the 4th of July. We got four kids under five all dressed up, along with eight adults and drove the 40 minutes out to the U of M Aboretum and guess what? The fricking photographer didn't show up. I have half a mind to link to her website but I won't go there. Can you believe the nerve?

Ski and I had discussed the merits of me lugging my 7D along with all of my lenses through the Aborteum with two kids, a stroller, diaper bag, etc. and against his will, I decided to take the camera anyways because it's SO PRETTY there and gosh, I just have to have my camera. Lucky too because we decided to see what we could get without the flakey photographer who didn't bother to show up. I'll post the rest on Facebook, guys and get a DVD of the high resolution files in the mail to all of you. You're all cute and fun and you make me smile.



Unrelated but CRIPES, I am soooo far behind on pictures. Like, I have pictures from MAY that I haven't edited. I wil never catch up. I did get my computer fixed up courtesy of my brother-in-law Colin and got PS5 and Lightroom and now I have a lot to learn. I feel like I'm starting all over. Boo.

nineteen-and-a-half and thirty-six months

I spend approximately 97% of my time lecturing my children about the importance of sharing so it is fitting that their poor, deprived little selves will have to now share my monthly ramblings about their awesomeness.

The injustice!

Guess what, lovies? Mommy doesn't have time to do them separate because she is too busy refereeing and keeping track of who took which toy from who first. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. LEARN TO SHARE.

I buy two of everything and guess what? IT DOESN'T MATTER. Cameron got his own Zhu Zhu pet for RENEE'S BIRTHDAY for the love of all things holy and they are still fighting about them. STILL.

Now that I got that off my chest I really do like the little turkeys and I really do want to take the time to write down the funny things they do and say so that I remember something from this time in my life other than PLEASE STOP BITING YOUR SISTER and PLEASE GIVE HIM BACK HIS BALL RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

You know it's bad when the first words out of Renee's mouth when Cam so much as looks at the toy she is holding is "You can't take this or you're going STRAIGHT to time-out." I reckon they've heard that a few times. I should just buy a tape recorder.

They are best when they are on the go. We can actually do things like go to the zoo and travel for their cousin's birthday parties without upsetting the delicate balance of the universe too much. C-Man still has some adjustment issues when we get home from a busy trip and generally gets up about 19 times a night after we get home just to make sure that things are still cool on the home-front but for the most part it is getting to the point where it's actually fun to leave the house. This is the first time in 3 years  that I can actually say that with a straight face.

We've been all over the state in the last month or so and they have been pretty much melt-down free. We spent all of Father's day out in the yard splashing in the pool and playing on the playground and they had a great time. They were dumping water on each other and laughing. And then crying because Renee dumped water on me! But I did it to her first! But I'm still crying!

They generally both nap in the afternoon so by the time I get one down and then the other I have about 15 minutes to clean the kitchen before the one I put to sleep first wakes back up and is ready to party. What that equates to is from 6AM when Cam starts talking to 9:30PM when Renee gives up her stall tactics and FINALLY just closes her blessed eyes and goes to sleep, I have a sidekick. Either it's Renee who wants to "help" me bake and clean and do laundry (she doesn't follow recipes yet though so my banana bread last night was pretty moist. READ: MUSHY) or Cameron who is screaming and throwing his body around trying to reach some object that is off limits to him, I have one of them at my side at ALL MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. One of these days I'm going to take a pee in private and it is going to be WONDERFUL.

Cameron went back to the allergist where we learned that either the egg allergy has gotten worse or that it was more severe than we had thought initially. We've been on a strict no egg diet (I used to slip him a bite of a cookie here or there because I feel bad for him). The allergist said that he shouldn't have any of it ever and that I am probably making the allergy worse by giving it to him. It sucks to try to travel and feed him not knowing what has eggs and what doesn't. I pretty much have to pack everything for him. I also had yet another wave of guilt after the appointment about how miserable he must have been that first year and how many signs I missed in not getting the allergy diagnosed sooner. I failed him. My poor little baby and his upset belly.

Renee started a new preschool this month. She never liked the last preschool and would FLIP OUT every day when we dropped her off. The final straw for me was going to conferences and having her teacher tell me that she hasn't communicated other than a head nod or shake in SIX MONTHS. It told us that she didn't feel safe there and that they weren't spending any time with her. So we pulled her. The new school is a totally different atmosphere. They do a ton of field trips and take the city bus to the pool once a week and while I have some anxiety about my baby on a city bus (okay, I have a LOT of anxiety about it), I think it will be good for her. She seems to like the action. She has her whole life to learn sign language and the days of the week, I say take her to the park and let her run around like a crazy person all day. Her little boyfriend from daycare, the boy who she insists on sitting next to at the lunch table, is going to the same school too so she was pleased about that. I'm not sure the love affair is mutual but I do know that Renee has her first crush. She talks about him all the time :)

Nena and Grumpa gave us their piano a few weeks ago and it has been so magical to watch the kids sit on the bench that their dad learned to play on and slam on the keys. Nothing makes me happier than getting out of the shower and hearing piano music drifting up the stairs. There is so much history that came with that 30 year old piano, we are truly blessed that our kids will get a chance to learn music on it like their dad did.

Cameron really likes BIG TRUCKS! DIGGERS! MOTOR GRADERS! AIRPLANES! and he calls them out to me as we're driving down the road. It makes me smile. He also tries to get the attention of other people driving on the road and when he makes eye contact he always smiles and says "HI!" He is the polar opposite of her. She would glare at anyone that had the audacity to look at her and he's running over to complete strangers saying "HI!!" He still won't get over his fascination with the drawers and cupboards that have childproof locks on them and he stands at them shaking them with all of his weight trying to get at the scissors. Mom, those scissors are the coolest thing EVER. I want to cut my tongue off! Give them to me RIGHT NOW!

Renee refuses to get over her Dora obsession regardless of how many other TV shows I try to brainwash her with. I'm so sick of Dora that I could puke. The other day she said to me "Mom, I'm back on the Dora wagon." And then she asked for more milk and said "I'm back on the milk wagon too." I just about died laughing. She won't read any book that doesn't have a ballerina in it and spends most of her days talking about princesses and ballerinas and I have no idea where this nonsense comes from. I was a total tomboy and never took a ballet class in my life and when I ask her if we should get her signed up for swimming class she flips out and says "NOOOOO, I want to go to ballet class." Shoot me now, please. And then after I'm dead we'll be off to ballet class because what princess wants, princess usually gets. Princess also refuses to drink out of cups that aren't pink or eat food off of plates that aren't pink. PINK, PINK, PINK. She'll even say "I want the pinkie one" like PINKIE is a term of endearment. Oh you pretty, pretty pinkie, I love you so.

They are a fun bunch and I can't imagine a single day with without them in it. Wait, I can sort of imagine it. I would lay on the couch and eat cereal for dinner and not even once would have to scrub the floor from the mess they made to stop the ants from taking over the house and after I got done laying down for a few hours eating whatever I want, I would miss them so much that my heart would ache.

dear renee

You were born a Mommy's girl. From day one, you looked up at me with your wrinkled little baby skin and you sighed that content little sigh as your drank your milk and I sang You Are My Sunshine and you knew that day who loves you the best. You make me special. Your love, your insistence on me reading your books and buckling you into your carseat and pushing your trike make me special. I will admit that there are days when it would be nice if you would let your dad help you put your shoes on just once in a while but for the most part, every day that I spend with you I feel special. The days that I felt special before you came into my life were few and far between but not now.Thank-you for that.

I was away for a few days a month ago sort of unexpectantly and the look on your face when I walked through that door said it all. With this shy little look on your face you walked over and curled up on my lap and said "I'm glad you're home, Mommy. Don't leave again." For the weeks since, you've clung to me like you're never going to let me leave your side again and I think there was some part of you that didn't think I was coming back. I will tell you this today, my girl. As long as there is a car to drive and air to breathe, I will never leave you and not come back. Ever. You don't need to worry about it. Worry about which Backyardigan you like the best (the PINK one) or whether we can find the Princess Dora DVD (RIGHT THIS INSTANT) but please don't worry about your mom leaving you. I never will.

I feel compelled to tell you this because you worry a lot for a three year old. You are a very introspective little creature, taking on the world with a quiet, watching-from-behind-the-scenes approach. Somedays I wonder just what is going on in that little brain of yours. Your brother shouts every single thought that passes through his brain at the top of his lungs but not you. You sit back and watch and process and plan things out before you act on them. I love to watch you in social situations because you'll plaster your body as close to me as you can and watch for a good couple of hours acting like you are the shyest kid on planet earth and then all of a sudden you'll decide it's safe and you jump right in with both feet.

And before I know it, the little girl hiding behind my legs not wanting anyone to look at her, is bossing around all the other kids, telling then where to sit and what color cup to drink out of. I watched you boss around your cousin Sarah at a birthday party a few weeks ago and there was a part of me that couldn't belive my eyes. I mean, sure, you boss me around daily, but I was so surprised to see you bossing around your peers. And, I was proud of you. Not because you were bossing kids around but because you knew what you wanted and you were not afraid to say it.

I had so much fun planning your lemonade birthday party this year because you watched in awe as I finished all of the details wanting so much to help and I know that seeing all the work that went into it makes you feel special. On your birthday, I promise to always make you feel as special as you make me feel. You asked me the day after the party to leave up the decorations and then a couple of days after that insisted that you should get another birthday party tomorrow. When you're 30 and have two little kids and you're busy and overworked and tired, I promise to make it clear to you how wonderful of a day June 30, 2007 (which you recite to anyone that will listen, complete with the year) was for me too.

You love playdoh and painting and being chased and spun. You love TV and milk and snacks on your throne in the living room. You love the Angelina Ballerina books. You always eat your fruits and vegetables but steer clear of any meat that isn't chicken nuggets or hot dogs. You are terrified of dogs and swings. You threw a fit of epic proportions the other day because the ceiling fan we got installed in your bedroom is brown and not pink. You potty trained yourself and now ask for "privacy" when you're going yelling "I can do it MYSELF, mom, LEAVE ME ALONE." You snuggle in as close as you can get to me at night and always say "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" with utmost love and admiration and your curls itch my nose and you smell like your bath and you rub your feet back and forth along my legs until sleep overcomes you. I lay for a long time after you fall asleep on my nights, soaking in the miracle of you. Reveling in the fact that I am still the most important person in your life.

Happy Birthday, Mu Shu Chicken, honey, Rosie Ro. I love you more than anything.
Mama

P.S. Didn't you just turn One? OK, how about Two? It seems like YESTERDAY.
P.P.S. I promise to get a better picture next year.

he

He taught me how to ride a bike, how to manicure the perfect snowbank, that second place is not the first loser but pretty damn good.

He taught me to love Cheetos and Snicker bars. He called me hop-a-long and partner and most often, Beaner. Always Beaner.

He taught me that chances are that if I'm not having fun doing something that it is my own fault and he taught me that there are men in the world meant to have three daughters.

He has taught me so many things in the 30 years we've spent together but the most profound thing he taught me was that I deserve a man that treats me like he always has. Like he's always treated my mom. That I deserve this:

Happy Father's Day to the two most wonderful men I've ever known. The two men that share my heart.

the lemonade party

A few shots of the lemonade party we threw for Renee last weekend. I spent MANY hours sewing table runners and aprons and pennants and fluffing tissue balls and making cakes and cake lollipops but it was totally worth it in the end. The look on her face when she walked through the door was completely priceless.

 

the lemonade stand

We had Renee's 3rd Birthday party yesterday and the only thing that didn't go exactly as I planned was the weather. It was one of my favorite days ever and the memories of it will be etched in my mind for eternity. Uncle Carl built the kids this lemonade stand and they LOVE it. I see many, many, MANY weekend afternoons spent out by the curb selling lemonade to the passersby. Thank-you, Uncle Carl, from the bottom of all of our hearts!

they each have a buddy

As the kids get older one of the things I'm loving the most is getting to know my nieces and nephews and watching them build friendships with my kids. Each of them has a little buddy. Charlie and Griffin are a year apart, Renee and Sarah are six weeks apart and Sam and Cameron are six months apart.

We spent the weekend together in Mankato celebrating Sam's birthday and while I have a boatload of pictures to process, I wanted to post these.

If you sit around and listen, the boys are sneaking in discussions about poopy butts and saying crap like it's a swear word. I love that they already have secrets.


And don't get me started on the girls. They spent most of the weekend locked in a bedroom upstairs having a "Girls Only" party. They slammed the door on the face of any boy that came near them and they pranced around all weekend long holding hands. I have no idea where this girliness comes from as my sister Jen and I are not super feminine women. Our girls seem to think they are princesses though :) 


And these two don't know it yet but they are going to be best buddies too. Right now they're really only concerned with the fact that there is a lot of sugar on the table in the form of Fruit Loops and that is just not something they get every day :)

  

rock on, sister friend

This is what we have to say to finally biting the bullet and being rid of diapers forever:

It was about a month ago that we pulled the plug on potty training all together. It had gotten to the point where she would scream and cry every time we pushed her to go on the potty. So, I said screw it and changed my GO TO THE POTTY RIGHT NOW OR ELSE mantra to "Whatever, you can figure it out when you're ready. I don't have time for this crap."

You know what the girl did?

She potty trained herself just to spite me.

And you know what? I had the last laugh because I had a stinking suspicion that my girl? She just doesn't like being told what to do.

HIGH FIVE, GIRL.

Peace out.
 

mullet

When I was pregnant with Renee I told Ski that I hoped the baby got his curls and my motor skills. I never once thought that we'd be lucky enough that both kids would inherit their dad's wild, curly hair. 

Introducing my son and his mullet of curls. And no,I don't have any intention of cutting them. Like ever. I like mullets.