Broken Promises

Well, I've broken a promise once again. I've been a terrible blogger. Its a shame, really, because I love to blog. And not to toot my own horn, but my life is too funny not to share. At least it makes me laugh.

So since March 16...what has happened?

Helen remembers things. Its odd. She talks about the most random things that happened months ago. Today she asked me where Hannah's scooter was. We haven't seen Hannah's scooter in months. Or she tells me about feeding the ducks. That was two months ago too! It makes me nervous. What else is she remembering? Hopefully not how I used some bad language today.

Patrick is amazing. He is talking more and more. His favorite word right now is "baby." And he carries one around with him. I love it. And he likes to pretend he is a bull. You know, like a cow. He puts his hands on his head and charges you. And screeches.

We are potty training. Oh the misadventures. I am a briber. Candy and treasures for performing on the potty. Well, and I believe in bribery in all areas of a parenting. Reward good behaviour. But Helen is taking to the potty like she has everything else. She's a pro.

Every day they play a little more together. Less hitting and crying. More laughter and shrieks. Music to my ears.

My next post will have to debrief Meg's wedding...one of the more incredible nights of my life and undoubtedly the best night of Helen's. Its pretty remarkable when your sister marries your husband's best friend. But its worth some pictures and some stories. Stay tuned.

A few milestones...

Well, once again its been a long time since I last picked up the blogging pen...or keyboard. Life is moving too fast for me these days. It is getting harder and harder to log on and share the wonders of our days. But we have had a few milestones...or mishaps...or miracles in the past few weeks.

• Patrick turned one. Wow. What a big boy. Could it only have been a year? It feels like he has been with us much longer. But he still seems so new. I must be on motherhood time. Its either warpspeed or slow motion. I remember when Helen turned one, she felt so old. She drank milk. She ate peanut butter. She could walk. Patrick does all those things too, but he still seems like my baby. Perhaps it is because I know all there is to come.

• Helen figured out how to break out of her room. That's right. I am a bad mom. I lock that kid in there. If you knew Helen, you would too. She will NEVER go to sleep if given the opportunity. If she can come out of her room, then she will. As I learned one afternoon when after a few minutes she came running out of her room yelling, "Mommy! I wake up!" Sunday morning I woke up to her heavy breathing at our bedroom door. That is a heart attack moment when it is 6:15 and your 2 1/2 year old is standing at your door. Now strangely enough, I told her today not to come out of her room until I came back to get her. Unbelievably, she obeyed. That is a milestone.

• Today Helen and Patrick realized that the sum is greater than each of its parts. Helen broke into the pantry. She got out the box of Rice Krispies. She gave it to Patrick. And she watched him turn it upside down on the floor. Hmmmm. If you have not cleaned up Rice Krispies spread all over, crunched down into the tile and carpet, then you haven't lived. I will once again plug the benefit of my Dyson.

• Patrick said Chase. That's right. Our dog. Both of my kids said Chase before many other words. Luckily Patrick said "mama" first. I will use that against Helen in the future.

• Today when I put Helen down for her nap, she asked if Patrick could sleep in her bed with her. I laid him down next to her. She snuggled up to him and said "I love you so much, buddy." Melt your heart. That was before the Rice Krispies incident.

• Patrick is wild. Today alone, he climbed into Helen's bed, into the bathtub, into his dresser, into the kitchen cabinets, outside the backdoor, and somehow, he too managed to stand up and pull the child proofing off of the pantry door. He also bit me twice. That is unnerving. I thought I was going to avoid the plague of the biter.

• Helen has started to put a blanket over her head and say she is getting married. When I ask her who she is marrying she says "daddy." Or she says "you, Mommy." Or, of course, "Uncle Brad."

• Helen likes to stop in the middle of something and say a prayer. Totally unprompted. I'm not that good of a mom. She is clearly an angel. God is amazing. I should remember this during the next Rice Krispies incident.

• Patrick has been saying "NeNe." I am starting to think this means Helen.

• Helen rode a pony at the rodeo. My little Helen. Timid, shy, afraid of new things. That child practically jumped up on the pony herself. I swear, she is going to be a veterinarian. A veterinarian Supreme Court Justice.

• We finally found a babysitter. And she is wonderful. What is bizarre is that I have known her since she was Helen's age! That makes me feel old. But it makes me so happy to have her in our life! So far she is the only babysitter who follows my instructions exactly. Grandparents and Aunt Me-Mes have a tendency to bend the rules. Ahhhh...not in my tight ship.

• Patrick is a beefcake. He is huge. And strong. And blond. Why are my children blond? How do a brunette and a ginger make two blond babies?

Once again, I'll attempt to be more regular in my blogging. Otherwise, look for another milestone update sooner rather than later.

I am a terrible blogger

I love blogging. Honestly, reflecting on something that happened in my life and making it into something funny is tremendous therapy. Every day I intend to blog. Even if it is not a reflection on the whole day, I hope to at least sit down at the keyboard and type up a snippet for my very small, yet devoted, readership. Surely I could use the therapy.

But I realized that I am too busy for therapy. Here it is 11:30 and I'm getting my first dose of daily therapy. Shouldn't I be asleep?? Goodness knows I'm sleepy. And Matt sure looks comfy asleep next to me. But this is the first moment I have had for blogging therapy all day. In hindsight I can't remember going to the bathroom. And I'm sure I never brushed my teeth today. So blogging took a backseat like it does on many days. But as always, I think it was worth it.

Today Helen laid down on the floor of a restaurant refusing to go in. The floor. Face down, laying flat on the floor. Dirty restaurant. Diners stepping over her to enter. Lovely. She kept taking her food and fingers and dipping them into her refried beans like it was playdough. Patrick almost choked on a banana and kept throwing food and cups. Helen refused to sit in her highchair, so the majority of the lunch was spent in my lap. There was mess, there was screaming, thank goodness there was Coke and salsa. All of this with a friend due to have her first child on Saturday. Just the impression I want to make on an almost mom.

That was just lunch. But somehow an afternoon wagon ride with Helen and Patrick wearing their matching NASA flight jackets (courtesy of Astronaut Ger) sounded like better therapy than blogging. And it was. So maybe my blog is lacking, but its only because I'm too busy being happy.

Nonetheless, all this happiness wore me out. I'm too tired to even rehash the rest of the day. I think for today sleep will be my therapy.

Tivo Tragedy

I love Tivo. Or its equivalent. I actually have the DirecTV DVR...but you get the idea. Tivo is every mother's best friend. Usually at 7 o'clock, I am running around trying to handle baths, find pajamas, brush teeth, and find lost pigs or giraffes (very crucial items for bedtime). At about 8:30, after things have settled down and I sit down for the night, few things make me happier than my shows. I love TV.

Likewise, I love movies. And the silver lining to Hurricane Ike is that DirecTV customers are receiving several movie channels free of charge. So I love to go through and record movies to watch while falling asleep or on those rare occasions when I have run out of recorded shows.

Last night I was especially excited to watch my recording of The Da Vinci Code. It wasn't my favorite movie, but I thought it could be an enjoyable re-watch. So last night, everyone is in bed, Matt is out of town, and I crawl into bed ready for a little me time and movie night.

Imagine my disappointment when I realized I had recorded The Da Vinci Coed. That's right. C-O-E-D. Use your imagination. Tom Hanks wasn't in this one.

Many of my blogs lament my current fashion state. I went from being slightly on the edge of fashion forward, to slightly fashion backwards. Maybe not overly trendy, but at least I had nice things. Need I remind everyone of my continued wear of the Ugg boot? Today I was shopping at many of my former favorites without the kids. I was ready to go wild. Purses, shoes, dresses, I was ready to get it all. I wanted a wardrobe update. A fashion makeover.

I was in Tory Burch taking in all of the great purses and shoes, flipping through the racks, when one particular display caught my eye. Tory Burch for children. I was mesmerized. Those cute little trademark flats in teeny tiny sizes. I wanted them. But not for myself. For my 2 1/2 year old.



Then it hit me...I know why I am such a fashion dud. Because I am a mom. Because I care more about people admiring my children than myself. Because I want the best for them and second best for me. You may not think a 2 year old needs to know how cute she looks, but she does. She doesn't need to think its her most important quality. But, she does need to put on a fancy dress and twirl and know that she's beautiful. Or put on a pair of shoes that just make her want to run and dance.



At the end of the day, I didn't walk out with any new designer shoes. And neither did Helen. But only because they didn't have her size.

Where has my mind gone?

Most of us have heard of pregnant brain. I haven't been pregnant in almost a year, so shouldn't some of my former intelligence have made its way back? Apparently not. I just gave Patrick a bath in his diaper.

You see, Patrick is messy. M-E-S-S-Y. I have tried every trick in the book to improve his eating habits, but he is a disaster at mealtime. We have developed a pretty good routine to battle his messy eating habits. In the morning, I feed him Cheerios (no spills there) and some sort of nearly colorless fruit...bananas, apples, or pears often do the trick. I manage to keep him clean-ish. He takes a morning nap in his clean-ish pajamas and then eats lunch. Since green beans by their very name are full of color, its hard to keep him neat at lunch. So inevitably after lunch we have to do a major cleaning. Of Patrick, the highchair, the walls, the floor, sometimes the dog's fur. Most definitely me.

On the not too rare occassion where Patrick is too messy for even a roll of paper towels to handle, I take him, mess and all, straight to the bathtub. Take of the messy clothes and just rinse him off. But today for some reason, I got halfway into the rinse off before I realized the poor boy was still wearing his diaper. His very soggy diaper at this point. Clearly I was staring at him this whole time, but somehow managed to overlook the diaper.

Luckily for me, Patrick often overlooks my mommy brain moments. I think for him taking a bath in a diaper was a little bit of an adventure. He certainly howled with laughter while I tried to keep it from dripping as I tossed into the trashcan.