beanski

the word busy doesn't cut it

I mailed out close to 800 busy bags yesterday. Once I got over the initial shock that the boxes I had asked $5 for return postage were going to cost me from $12-$20 each to send, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief that I actually managed to get them done. Renee has played with a few of the bags and she LOVED them. I'm excited for everyone to get them and to hear how their kids do with them. I was up with contractions all night long a few nights ago and was starting to seriously worry that my dining room would be covered in busy bags forever because I was certain I was going to go into labor before I got a chance to mail them out.

That isn't the case. I'm still pregnant. Hugely pregnant. Wearing my husband's shirts and cringing when I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror pregnant.

My friend Heather has been insistent on taking some maternity pictures of me before this baby comes and I have given every excuse in the book. The first being that I just don't feel or look at all cute, followed promptly by I'm just too effing busy to do anything except survive. But, I am going tomorrow morning and I'm going to own my fat face and my enormous, three times stretched to an oblivion baby belly. Because this really is it. These kicks to the pelvic bone that knock me off of my feet are the last painful baby kicks I'm ever going to feel. And I'm sure someday I'll even look back fondly on my three chins.

The baby has dropped, of that I'm certain. The heart burn has turned into pelvic pain. I honestly feel like he could fall right out at any moment when I'm walking down the street. I got the project I've been working on at work for the last five years done, saw my mom through a minor surgery and now I just have to throw a 3rd Birthday Party for my first son next weekend and after that, #3 is absolutely welcome to fall on out of there anytime. I mean, as long as someone is there to catch him.

Dear son, could we go into labor mid-day instead of the middle of the night crap your brother and sister pulled? Just once, I'd like to show up to L&D with a husband with the other kids at daycare and not racing around in the middle of the night waking up all of my friends and starting the whole birthing process exhausted. Work with me here, OK? Please?

I'd ask you to sleep through the night on our first night together and to try not to shred my nipples too bad when you're learning how to nurse but after the other two, I know those are unrealistic expectations. All I'm asking for at this point is morning or mid-day start to labor and for you to come out healthy and happy. After that, well, we'll make it work.

And if you do, by some act of God, manage to sleep and eat like a good little boy, I'll promise to buy you a pony. That your brother and sister won't be allowed to ride.

the guilt

You kind of forget about this part of pregnancy. At least I did. The part where you feel like time is ticking by too quickly and it is running out on your other kids. You watch them play and you soak them in and you hug them extra tight because you just know that you'll wake up one day a year from now and the baby haze will be lifting and you'll have a five year old and an almost four year old and you'll wonder where they went.

When he begged for me to lay down with him at naptime today, I did it even though I had a lot of work/cooking/projects already slotted for naptime. I laid down with him because he usually picks dad and has lately been picking mom and it is a wonderful change of pace for me. I laid down with him and I smelled his hair that is getting courser and courser by the day because I know. I know that in a couple of months I won't have the luxury of laying down with him for an hour. I know how much I'll miss him.

When I took her last week to for her well child visit (three months late) and the doctor wanted to get her caught up on her shots and I agreed to let her have four shots at once, something I never ever do with the kids because I'm so afraid of pumping them full of all that crap at the same time and them having a reaction and me not knowing what it is from and she cried so hard and made desparate noises that I never hear come out of her, I totally took her straight home and curled up on the couch with her. I felt so motherly, so protective of her. I just couldn't bear the thought of sending her to preschool after that. I couldn't bear the thought of being away from her after that. I took her home and I let her watch 14 episodes of Scooby Doo and I let her eat her lunch in the living room and then took her to the mall for new books and make-up and few dozen rides on the carousel. I let her do what she wanted for an entire day because I know that it won't be long now and I won't have the option of spending an entire day with just my favorite girl. 

After a week of panicking about not getting enough done, not being ready for the baby to come, being angry and annoyed with everything going around me, I stopped tonight for a few minutes to look through the pictures I've taken in the last two weeks and I realized something. I am getting something done. I am spending time with my children. I am soaking them up and I'm taking them out for breakfast and then to the Rose Garden to play and then to Great Harvest for cookies after because right now I can and in a few months I know I'll have a newborn's schedule to contend with. I'm using my vacation time to make sure my girl knows how much I love her instead of sewing crib skirts and I'm getting down on the floor to play trains and legos and Polly Pockets even when it hurts because in just a couple of months I'll have arms full of a baby and I I know that I won't care what isn't done in the nursery, I'll just miss my big kids.


I realized today that I do have control over what is going on around me and I'm making the right choice. I'm choosing my kids. And for the first time in weeks, I think I'll sleep OK tonight.

first annual camping trip

Everyone has a friend like Lindsey, I suppose. Or if they are lucky like me, they have a handful of friends like Lindsey. Friends where the loyalty never runs out, where time never changes the friendship, where you can sit down for a drink or a dinner after a year of hardly talking and have a ton of things to talk about. Where there isn't judgements or hurt feelings or childish games ... there is just a mutual understanding that you both care about each other no matter what. Time or distance or divorces or not becoming sister-in-laws like we once planned or three kids under four can't change the history, can't ruin the friendship. When things slow down, you'll pick up where you left off. It's the way real friendships work.

When she mentioned that she and Steve were going to take the kids camping on Rainy, I jumped at the chance to go along and knowing that my sister and her kids would love it as well, I invited them along. It was our First Annual Kid's Camping Trip on Rainy and I can't wait for next year. 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 4, 2 were the ages of the kids that went and they all got along so great. The big kids helped out with the little kids and the little kids watched in awe as the big kids did things like surf behind the boat.

Charlie and Andy became fast friends and spent most of the weekend racing up and down the trail in the lastest form of extreme sports. If you can make it to the end without falling and cracking your skull open, you're tough.


Katie helped out with the little kids and with the cooking and putting the tent up. And I realized what it's going to be like to have one girl and two boys. Loud and busy with a touch of drama thrown in for good measure.


And Chris tied fishing lines for the little kids without complaining even once and showed us that it is indeed possible to surf behind a boat (and wake board, tube, and any other trick that is possible to be done behind a boat)


We played UNO during the rainstorm that dropped down buckets of water and left us all with wet feet and wet clothes. No one even cared.



I got to spend time with my sister and my niece and nephew and it felt so good to see them all smiling so hard.


We spent hours on the boat, watching the kids on the tube or swimming until our toes were almost permanently pruned. My little girl told me every 10 seconds that she wanted to swim all day every day. She's going to be an Aqua Bronc in no time.





We fished. Or at least pretended to. The boys did catch a few Northerns off the dock.


And we slept in a tent for the first time as a family, me halfway pregnant with number three. It rocked my world and my little girl LOVED everything about it.

We sat by the fire and we made s'mores and we told stories.

And we enjoyed the beauty of Rainy Lake.



I think it's safe to say everyone had a blast. We can't wait for next year.

it only took me four years

It only took me four years to con my girl into letting me braid her hair. She required two bite sized 3 Muskateers as payment. Candy well spent.

dear renee

Four. That number seems so big and so small to me today. Small because you act like you’re so old sometimes but big because I still see you as my baby. Somehow, someway we managed to get to four and let me tell you, my girl, I am so incredibly proud of the little girl you have become.

You like to swing but only in the baby swing and only if you are the only person on the swing set and the other swing isn’t moving even an inch. You FLIP if it does and demand that I take you out immediately. That overly cautious sense you have? That’s ALL your dad. You hardly ever play with toys but instead choose to spend countless hours making up games usually involving cupcake wrappers or left-over ribbon or sometimes fabric from one of my sewing projects. A lot of people asked me what to buy you for your birthday this year and I was really at a loss. Your brother is easy as I can just say “anything with wheels” but you are different. You play different. You must have re-hidden and found the easter eggs at least 100 times and it got to the point where your dad and I would both groan when you even mentioned the word egg.

You still say aminals instead of animals and it makes me smile every single time. When I correct you, you tell me that you're right and I"m wrong. You put your pants on backwards sometimes in the morning and if I tell you to turn them around you snap at me "I like them like this" and I'll pick you up from preschool nine hours later and you'll still be wearing them backwards. Just to prove a point, I presume. You're stubborn and a bit of a know-it-all. I like that about you.

Your vocabulary has taken off dramatically and each time you learn a new word you spend a good deal of time practicing using it properly in a sentence. Like, we'll hear 14 variations of stories involving lying and when you're done with your story you'll look me straight in the eye and say "Mom, that's called lying and it isn't nice to lie." You like the word interesting and you'll say it at really hilarious times like "That's blue, that's interesting." You also use the word weird a lot. That comes from your father telling you to "quit being weird" when you're being a turkey. Someone at school must've told you that weird wasn't a nice word and I set the record straight once and for all on that one by telling you that your dad is one of the weirdest people I know and we still like him. Weird is good. Don't be normal, Renee. Normal is boring. "Boring, boring, boring, boring" [with an eye roll] is how you'd put it.

I complain a lot about you being a picky little eater but on the days when dad and I are frustrated because you and your brother just don’t seem to eat anything, I’ll stop and pay close attention to your plate as I’m putting it in the dishwasher. You always eat your fruit and your vegetables. Always. Sometimes your bread and your cheese and very, very rarely your meat. You only like meat that comes in the form of steak and prefer the filet mignon variety. Your dad beams with pride and makes sure to buy extra just for you when he's making it.

Your dad and I always talk about how we know we’re pushovers a lot of the time with you and how we know that we probably dote on you more than we should. I think we both know how fast this journey is going to go and at the end of the day the most important thing to us is that we manage to raise loving and empathetic kids. You are the epitome of loving and empathetic and I am so proud of that.

When I’m sad, you’re sad. When I’m happy or giddy or excited, so are you. You look to me for confidence when you’re in a new place, sometimes clinging to my legs and sometimes quietly asking me if it’s OK if you go and play. You always, always, always pick Mama when given the choice and Renee, I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My eyes well up with tears and I get that huge lump in my throat just thinking about it.

You get huge crocodile tears that you fight so hard to hold back when you see me from across a crowded room and, thanks to you, I know exactly how that feels. It’s how I feel when I see you include your brother in your make-believe games and just how I feel when I watch you sing a song at a school program. It’s an overwhelming emotion, this love we have. I don’t know if it is you being my first, or you being my girl, or just you being the sensitive little thing you are, or maybe the circumstances involving your early birth but I love you with such a profound sense of attachment and protection that it’s hard for me to describe. I watch you closer than other people watch their four year olds. I hold you closer than I probably should. There are days when I look at you and I love you so much that it scares me.

You have turned my own games around on me and now ask me as I’m tucking you in to bed at night “Mom, do you know how much I love you?” And I always smile and say, “I have no idea. How much?” And you always, always snuggle in as close to me as you can, kiss me on my shoulder and you get this sweet little look on your face like you know a secret I don’t and you say “Too much.”

I told you that every single night for almost four years and now you tell me. Too much pretty much sums it up.

Happy Fourth Birthday, my Moosh, my Rosie, my prettiest, my princess, my heart.
I love you too much.
Mama
 
1st year, 2nd year, 3rd year and today :)

off she goes

Renee isn't and never has been a very active kid. She isn't overly coordinated and honestly just isn't interested in things like riding bikes and playing baseball. She prefers to spend her time making up imaginary games involving birthday cakes made of out puzzles and coloring rainbows and daisies on sheet after sheet of printer paper. We bought the kids each a bike this spring, Renee a big girl bike that she picked out because it is like Sarah's and Cam one of those balance bikes that is still in the pissing him off royally stage. Renee sat on her bike a couple of times when we got it and wasn't really strong enough to pedal it and everytime I asked her if she wanted to go ride her bike, she said no. I was a little disappointed because my daydreams of us riding the bikes around the neighborhood this summer were shattered.

But, this morning we were outside playing in the driveway in our pajamas at 8AM (thanks Cam) and she got on her bike and asked to go for a bike ride. So, I pushed her up the hill and ran along side her (running isn't exactly easy for me these days) showing her how to use her brake and she took right off, pedaling and steering and braking just like she's always known how to. It was one of those proud moments, one of those moments that I just adore being a mom. One day she couldn't and then one day she tried again and she could. We spent most of the day on the road riding bikes, both her mom and her dad clapping and screaming and so incredibly proud of her.

mommy days

The first words out of Renee's mouth almost every single morning are "Is it a Mommy Day today?" She's a homebody just like Ski and I. Her attitude gets more and more rotten the more weekends in a row we are traveling. She needs down-time. When I went down to 32 hours a week, Cameron was still an infant and most of those Fridays were just plain hard. I would wake up and beg Ski to stay home and help me and not a Friday went by that I didn't ask myself why on earth I was giving away hundreds of dollars a month to do this.

But in the last six months, it has shifted. I crave the time at home with my kids as much as they do. I look forward to what we're going to do and checking the weather on Thursday to make our plans for our Mommy Day is one of my favorite parts of the week. My job has been very uncertain lately and we've been looking around at alternatives, both in the area and elsewhere. And while it is really fricking tempting to pack up and move ... especially on a day when it has been SNOWING ALL DAY IN APRIL after SEVEN LONG MONTHS of winter ... I just am not sure I could ever voluntarily give up my Mommy Days.

Some days we run errands. Some days we clean the bathrooms (which they love to help with, by the way). Some days we go to the Aquarium or the museum. And some days we stay in our pajamas all day and eat frosting right out of the jar. We're lucky like that.
 
 

bath-time

 
Seven seconds after this picture was taken my son pulled my daughter's hair and tried to push her under water. No lie. Just goes to show you that one picture can tell a story or a thousand lies.

winter wonderland

One of my many attempts at a Christmas card picture. This one involved dad throwing snowballs at them from over my shoulder. It wasn't exactly what I was going for to put on a card but I love it for a lot of reasons. The way Renee scrunches up her nose when she's giggling. The way Cameron shouts at the top of his lungs when he thinks something is funny. I love the two little goofballs.
 

tft: toddler birthday parties

Renee got invited to her first birthday party today. You know, a party for a girl I've never met and whose parents I have never even heard of as opposed to the birthday party of a niece or nephew or one of my friends' kids. It is an odd situation for a few reasons.

1. Not everyone in her class was invited because Ski went to open the invitation and Renee's teacher told him to hide it because not everyone got invited. First of all, AWESOME, my kid is the most popular kid in class (if you don't sense the sarcasm, I'm actually spelling it out for you right now). Secondly, can you really invite SOME kids and not others? My I-was-the-kid-that-got-picked-on-in-school radar goes off and I instantly feel bad about it. But then again, 35 kids seems like a lot of kids to have over to your house. I've always wanted to invite some of Renee's best friends from school/daycare to her birthdays but have never felt comfortable inviting some and not the others. Is this for real? Can you really do that?

2. Can I really just drop her off at the house of some people I've never met? Can I go in?

3. Do they really mean it when they say "No gifts please"?

Help. I feel like I just came home with this strange newborn baby and I have no idea what to do with it now.