beanski

busy

There is something about spring that transforms my realistic expectations to totally unreasonable expectations.

There's the new yard that took me over a month to rake. There's the dead patches from being poorly taken care of for years with the previous owners. There are weeds. A LOT of weeds that I have never seen before that are EVERYWHERE, including in my mulched flower beds. I like a pretty yard. My yard is not pretty. The 7 minutes per day that I have to spend making it pretty just isn't enough.

There's a new deck that I want to decorate and a basement that I want to organize.

There are photos to organize and order. I haven't ordered prints in over six months.

There's a little girl that is turning 3 in a month or so and there are invitations and banners to make for her lemonade party.

I've become sort of obsessed with fabric lately. I have an entire pile of fabric in my basement waiting for me to find the time to start the projects I have in mind. Aprons, pennants, blankets, burp cloths, shower curtains. The list is long. I love to pick out the fabrics and touch and feel them and see them in person. They make me so happy.

And then I add another project to my growing list of things that never get done.

It's overwhelming, really.

Cameron's new room is painted. The bedding is made. I haven't found the time to pick out and order window treatments or figure out where to put things on the walls.

I hate that everything is half-finished.

But, is it better or worse than never started?

I don't know.

The baby hurt his foot and he limped around reinjuring it for a week or so before I bought him SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLAR boots and insisted that he wear them during all of his waking hours. Like, I would strap them on over his pajamas and put him in his booster seat for breakfast. He seems to be getting better finally. I almost cried last night when I saw him get down and run down the hall after his bath for the first time in weeks.

My little girl was sick this week. She doesn't get sick often but when she does she would prefer it if they would surgically attach her directly to my body. She CLINGS to me when something is off with her and I spent five straight days taking orders from the little drill sergeant and not being able to take a piss without her throwing herself on the floor like I was deserting her. She puked on every piece of furniture in my living room, on her bed, on my bed, EVERYWHERE. The washer and dryer ran STRAIGHT for three days in a row.

Anyone wanna come over and sit on my couch? NOT RECOMMENDED.

I have deadlines at work that are not going to be met. My husband has a lot going on at work. I stayed home as much as I could with the kids and decided he would have to stay home today.

The next door neighbor getting a dog that barks ALL FRICKING DAY LONG was the last straw for me. Seriously, for two or three hours at a time, that dog barks. At nap time, Cam sits up every 10 seconds and says PUPPY. At bedtime, Renee asks me politely to make the dog stop barking. I don't know what to do. I feel like a prisoner in my own house.

And then this morning, as I was packing Cam up to take him to daycare, Ski said "Oh, that's weird" and he pulled up the leg of his pants. There was a deer tick with its head embedded in his leg. I pulled it out, put it in a tupperware, calmly googled deer tick to confirm that's what it was and then freaked out all the way to work. Lyme's disease. I'm sick just thinking about it.

The only brightness to my week is that I'm supposed to have a girl's weekend this weekend...where I hope to drink enough wine to put a dent in the 12 pounds I've managed to lose in the last seven weeks. I can't wait to buy new two size smaller jeans. Really, really expensive jeans. And a margarita. Or six.

See I ended on a positive note. Counts for something, no?

seventeen months

I love having a little boy. I think all of the people that tell me that boys aren't fun to dress are dead wrong. I think I get an almost bigger laugh about dressing him up in a button-down shirt and jeans than I do about putting tights and dresses on Renee. Plus, Cam's a lot less picky about his attire at this point so he'll roll with almost anything. As long as there is OUTSIDE! or DOWNSTAIRS! involved, he doesn't care. When his sister still throws herself on the floor if you try to get her to wear real pants (read: JEANS), putting adorable denim on him without him throwing any kind of fit at all is FUN.

Whereas she reserves her fits for clothing choices and peeing on a potty, he throws fits about everything else that doesn't involve staggering around outside reinjuring his bum foot over and over again. Seriously, the kid is going to be limping until he's fifteen at this rate. He WILL NOT sit still. Just when I think the foot is getting better he decides to climb up on the couch or up the playground and that usually ends with him crying and pointing at his foot in pain. And then we start all over again. SUCKS.

He's two teeth away from having his molars and his eye teeth out of the way. Renee still doesn't have her two year molars so I'm hoping this means we are about to get a break from the endless cycle of teething. Administer Motrin or Tylenol, pat and soothe, snuggle, snuggle, REPEAT UNTIL INFINITY. He's cutting one of his bottom eye teeth now and is NOT PLEASED about it. In fact he's been awake every hour or so all night for a few days now. He's gotten a lot better about going back to sleep but he still wakes up to check in often in the night. I have the feeling that Cameron will be wandering in to our room in the middle of the night for a long time. Like, I won't be surprised if he's eleven and still not sleeping through the night. I don't think he'll ever sleep through the night. I just don't think he's made that way. I'm finally OK with it, as long as he just needs a little reassurance to go back to sleep. He's trained us to just get over it and expect it. He won.

He eats with a fork and will not start eating until he is given a fork. He has better fine motor skills on that front at seventeen months than Renee does at almost three. I don't think he likes to get his hands dirty. He likes hotdogs, grilled ham and cheese, grapes, avocados, pears, carrots and anything sweet. I love the look on his face when I sneak him an m&m or some (eggless) banana bread. He looks so pleased with himself and right after the first taste starts making the sign for and shouting the word MORE!

His language has exploded in the last couple of weeks. My favorite words he says are Peet (Peek), Do-staaaiiirs (downstairs), Hot (emphasis on the T), A-nae (Renee), A bath (I love that he thinks the word is abath instead of just bath). I love that when we mention Nena or Rama he ALWAYS says Papa! or Grandpa! like he thinks it's a little joke he's telling by picking the dudes over the ladies. My mom was here over the weekend and he would stand at the basement door where she was and say PAPA! Even though Papa was at home and he knew damn well it was Rama down there. Little comedian. He'd get this little shit eating grin on his face when I'd tell him it was Rama downstairs.

He likes balls and driving cars and just wandering around outside. He plays with all of the toys that she never liked. It is so bizarre. He still wants anything out of reach or anything that he isn't supposed to have. It's like the grill spatula with the knife edge has a magnet pulling him towards it. He loses his mind when anyone (especially his sister) takes anything away from him.

He's always hurting himself and has not had a bruiseless face in weeks. In addition to the sprained foot we've had bloody noses and big bumps and bruises. His shins look like someone has been kicking him in the shins every day for the last month. He's too busy and curious and boyish for his own good.

We're getting ready for a trip to the allergist where I'm pretty convinced we are going to be told he's allergic to everything. We've seen a LOT of sneezing and watery eyes since spring has shown up and when you factor in the egg allergy that is still pretty obvious and the antibiotic reaction he had last month and I'm pretty sure we're going to have issues on that front. I hope I'm wrong.

I finally got him in for his 15 month well baby visit and he's 50th percentile for weight and 70th for height so he's still holding his own on that front. He's a hard baby to hold and I'm always convinced he must be abnormally large but he's not apparently. Like my mom said over the weekend, "He doesn't help you out." His chest is built like a linebacker but his actual weight and height say otherwise. I've been putting some 2T shirts on him recently to cover up his adorable pot belly.

I hold him for a long time at night before laying him down in bed willing him to stay small enough to lay on my lap for just a while longer. It's the only time of the day that he snuggles and I eat up every second of it. He grew up too fast. His dad and I go to battle every night about who gets to read him books before bed because it is so amazing to cuddle up with him and watch him say flower or duck or cup for the first time ever while recognizing it in a book and because we both know he won't be little for much longer. We love you, Bubster, C-man, Sunny, Stooge McDuck. We're glad you are ours.

confidence

I'm not a very confident person. It's something that I've been working on as I'm aging because constantly feeling like you're not living up to your own expectations wears on you. I think I might come across as confident because I've heard that a lot of people think/thought I was a bitch at various points in my life but the truth is that I'm pretty hard on myself. I don't think I generally judge other people in a negative way but I do a lot of judging of myself in a much-too-negative way.

When I took up photography as a hobby, I looked around at the pictures that other people were taking and I wanted to do it too. But, I've never really felt like I could. I mean, I take OK pictures, pictures of my family that make me smile but I am constantly comparing my technical abilities to other people's and mine never really add up. I don't spend as much time on it as a should/could. I get into ruts with my settings and my post processing. I've (mostly) been OK with that lately...doing the best that I can and trying not to compare myself to other people. She might be skinnier or smarter or prettier or funnier than me and that's OK. He's better at this and she's better at that. At thirty years old, I think it's finally OK with me that I'm not perfect.

I've come a long way with confidence since becoming a mother. I forgive myself more. I allow myself to let my husband put the kids to bed without feeling guilty. When he cooks dinner, I thank him and enjoy my night off. I plan nights out with my friends and this Sunday I agreed to take some time away from my family to take some family pictures for a girl I grew up with.

I was nervous. I didn't want to let her (or myself) down. I WANT to take good pictures I just wasn't sure if I'd be able to. When my husband bought me a professional camera I was thrilled and sort of overwhelmed because I'm not really good enough to have a camera that nice. He obviously thinks I am and I am really thankful for his confidence in me, it's just, well, I'm not all that confident with me.

I wanted to at least try to take the pictures for her because last fall Kim took some pictures of me with my family and they mean a lot to me. It means a lot to have some great pictures of my family with me actually in them. It meant a lot to me that she did them for free, that she did it for us because she wanted to do it. It was a great gift, those pictures, something that I will look at and smile at forever. I knew when she did it for us that I would do the same if anyone asked me. A couple of weeks ago someone did.

When I downloaded the pictures I took on Sunday morning, I smiled at a beautiful young mother clearly madly in love with her boys. I saw on her face that she feels exactly the same about her family as I do about mine. I captured that and get this: I think I did a pretty good job.

There isn't a greater feeling in the world than being proud of yourself. I am proud of myself for being able to give someone a gift, proud of myself for how far I've come with this photography hobby.

If you can look at this picture of little Nash doing his happy dance as his adoring family watches without smiling, well then you have no soul.

two is better than three

My monthly friend was FIVE days late last week. FIVE DAYS. When you're on birth control that usually ensures things happen at the exact same moment every month, five days is a looonnnngggg time. Five days I spent running back and forth to the bathroom repeating the mantra "I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this" over and over again in my head. I was so horrified by the prospect of having another baby that I didn't even tell my husband that I was late until after I got the nerve to take the test. I walked straight downstairs and took a shot of tequila when it came back negative. I'm exaggerating SLIGHTLY but I seriously considered it.

We both felt like the weekend was a new lease on life. I mean, these two kids aren't THAT hard when you could have been having a third. Under three and a half. I drank a lot of wine and we both realized that while we COULD probably handle another baby, we're just not sure we want to. And if we do decide we want to, I want to do it on our terms. I don't want another surprise baby. I want to be excited and not terrified when I find out.

We took the kids to the Scenic for lunch on Saturday and stopped at the beach to throw rocks on the way home. When Renee  whined that she wanted to go to a playground, we obliged.

That's when it happened.

A ill-advised trip down a too fast slide ended in a screaming baby and a trip to the Emergency Room. Luckily the foot isn't broken but it is sprained. It's official that the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life is watching him stand up and try to walk only to hunch over in pain. There is nothing we can do for him other than give it time and throw a lot of Motrin at it. We can't explain what is going on and make him understand that it isn't permanent. My arms ache from carrying him around for two days but I feel like I deserve it. I deserve it for not doing a better job protecting him from getting hurt.

The sprained foot aside the weekend was good. The kids have been fairly happy and while they are on completely different nap schedules (he naps from 11-1 and her from 1-3) it is sort of nice to have four hours during the day where we aren't refereeing. Time where we can focus on each of the kids independently. I ran around the yard with Renee for a long time yesterday afternoon looking for robins and making her squeal with laughter. We have good kids.

I'm just glad there's only two of them.

thirty-three months

I love how she cups my face in her hands right before she falls asleep and says "I love you, mommy. Too much." I've been telling her that I love her "too much" since the day she was born and it kills me that she picked up on it. I smile every time she says it. I love how after she's wound down to go to sleep and I leave her room how she ALWAYS comes out for one last check before going to sleep. I walk her back to her bed and tuck her in and give her a kiss and tell her goodnight. She onlys needs the reassurance once and I love that.

I love how she asks for a boost to go up her slide the wrong way and on her way up says "boosting, boosting, boosting" as she goes up. She tries to get all the way up on her feet and turns around and does this adorable little dance when she makes it. I love that she always wants to go explore the neighborhood for new friends and how she's always disappointed when no one is outside playing. If someone is outside, watch out, because she isn't even going to entertain going home until they go home. She bought lemonade from a couple of girls on the street yesterday and she was so proud of herself. She even told me that she didn't even spill it.

I love how she asks to be pushed on the swing but jumps off the second the swing starts moving. She's scared of swings but won't admit it. She always tells me that Cameron likes to swing a lot higher than her but "that's OK" almost like she's trying to convince herself that it is OK to be super, duper cautious about everything.

I love how she tells me that she is going to get a popsicle for going on the potty even though her pullup is soaking wet. And she KNOWS it. I think she thinks that I might not notice the pee or something.

I love how she tells me that everything is "beautiful" and how she asks to put on a "beautiful dress" every night before she takes her bath. She gets the dress on and immediately starts spinning. I love how she thinks dresses have to have no sleeves. If I try to put a dress on her that has sleeves she cries and throws herself on the floor and says "this is NOT a dress, mommy. I want a beautiful dress."

I love how she stomps her little feet and says "Mommy carry me!" all of the time. If Daddy offers to carry her, well, that's just not good enough. I love how she tells me that she wants to read ALL of her books before bed. She doesn't want to pick one, she wants ALL of them. I mean, seriously, she has like 200 books on the shelf in her room. We'd be reading well into tomorrow if we tried to read them all.

I love how she wants to sit on the kitchen counter and eat her dinner while I'm cooking it. It is sooo annoying that she's already done eating by the time dinner is made but it is adorable that she wants to help. She's gotten pretty good at measuring ingredients and stirring stuff for me. I love how she says that things happened "last morning" instead of yesterday. When I correct her she says "Yeah, last morning." IT'S WHAT I SAID MOM, GET A GRIP.

She loves to paint, color, play with chalk...anything artistic. She's started coloring within the lines of her coloring books and it kills me that she paints Baby Jaguar brown because "he is brown, Mommy!" It seems like just yesterday she'd draw one line on the paper and then walk away, now she'll sit there for HOURS.

The teachers at school are always commenting on how easy-going and pleasant she is and talk all the time about how she's always smiling. I think she reserves her bad behavior for when I'm around. And there has been a fair share of bad behavior lately...mostly notably her complete refusal to even try to keep her pullup dry or to go on the potty when asked.
I love how she lets her brother see her artwork from school and how she'll give him the extra one if she has two of something. Now, if there's only one of something, she's not all that great about sharing but if there is two, there is no one she'd rather share with than her brother. I love how she says "Here Cameron, you can have this" and shoves it in his face even if he doesn't want it. 
She always tells me that me and Mr. Tiger are her best friends and you know I was thinking the other day that she's my best friend too. There is no one I'd rather spend my days with, no one I'd rather curl up on the couch and watch a show with, no one that I would rather cuddle up next to and fall asleep. She my best girl, Renee, my one and my only girl.