Where my thoughts have been, besides my kids

Nearly every minute I'm awake in a day doesn't belong to me anymore. The demands on my time by other people, little people, are often more than I know how to handle.

I don't read the news.

I don't watch tv.

I don't read any more gossip websites. Sorry Perez.

I don't talk to "friends" or do play dates.

I try to clean my house, and raise my kids. And fix dinner.

We go on adventures, if heading to Target can count.

By the end of the day, it often seems that I haven't done anything. And yet, I have. I've done a lot.

More than I ever imagined could be done in a day.

I sing and dance and read.

I have a helper with the laundry and the dishes.

I talk and talk and talk.

To a very bright two year old.

Often though, there is a gaping hole in my head where my brain used to be. The part of my mind that thought about current events, politics, social issues. That part that used to be a teacher and know everything.

I still know everything.

It's just a different kind of everything.

An everything that involves discussions about weeds and chalk and why we don't like grasshoppers instead of war torn nations or the implications of the national debt.

and guess what.

I'm okay with that.

When I have time by myself, I miss my kids terribly. When I see no end in sight to a long day, all i want to do is ship them away.

I think that just means I'm a mom, right?

I would love to spend a Saturday with my husband, doing nothing, like we did many years ago. But we're too busy for such a wasted day.

Even though my life no longer feels like my own, I still have one solace - one element that is mine.

I still read.

I've almost finished "possible side effects" by Augusten Burrows. It's a book of essays about his very chaotic and nutty life. I love it. It's got me thinking more in the last few weeks I've been reading, about life, than anything has in a long time.

It got me to thinking the other day - about how the books I've read have always seemed to mirror and reflect my own life in some strange way, however loosely.

As a kid, I read about the Kennedy's and "where the red fern grows". I never did series books, still don't and even though i probably invented the story, I've convinced myself that I read "to kill a mockingbird" when I was 10 or so, because my grandma wanted me to.

When I was in Junior High and High School I was drawn to tragic figures like Marilyn Monroe. Read lots of autobiographies about her. Even did my senior English project about her. When in some dumb elective in high school, while my group was doing our project on Bruce Lee, my teacher let me sit in the comfy chair in his room and read Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" because he saw i just wasn't' into the project.

In high school, I discovered Hemingway and Steinbeck and Jack Kerouac. I read "The Old Man and the Sea" as a 7th grader and one of the nicest gifts Ross ever gave me, before we were married, was a large collection of Hemingway short stories. Corny as it may be, there were many occasions where I would bring that book and make him read me stories. Maybe it was the draw to Europe, and bull fights and war that hooked me, but Hemingway has always been a comfortable read for me.

Then to Kerouac - oh how I love to get lost (literally and figuratively) in a good Kerouac novel. Another tragic hero, but who can beat reading about Dean Moriarty in "on the road" or "the subbterraneans" on a hot summer day.

I had a phase where I read about art. Always art. I owned amazingly beautiful art books, mostly about impressionism. It was such a draw for me at the time.

Early in college, I read crap. I read those "dime store" novels about love and relationships that I found on the sale racks at Barnes and noble. Always about a 20 something girl looking for love and in the end finding the great guy.

Talk about projecting.

I wanted to be that dumb girl in all those books.

As a teacher, I read history all the time. Great war books - the entire Ambrose collection and more. I knew so much then about history and the characters that created our country.

Since, I've read books about raising children and toilet training. Books about royalty and simple people. Books that made me laugh and made me cry.

Lately though, I'm drawn to neuroses. And short stories. Short stories about the neurotic. A perfect combination, don't you think?

David Sedaris and his wacky family. Augusten Burrows and his disastrous childhood with a manic parent.

Not sure what it says about me and the place I'm in, in my life right now.

Maybe reading about other people's disasters helps me to appreciate my own life.

And how good I've got it.

That's probably it.

Whatever the reason.

I know that at the end of the day - I've got a book waiting for me on my nightstand. The final few minutes of each day, I get to myself.

And I wouldn't trade that for anything.

My boys Friday: The talent show continues

As if you could ever get enough of my boys, right?

Right.

We, the parents, have recently taken to calling them "thing one" and "thing two". I need someone to make me a t-shirt or bumper sticker that reads:

If it isn't thing one, it's his brother

With "Thing One" I had the brilliant idea to try toilet training this week. Big mistake. I learned that even though a 2.5 year old says 50 times a day, "I'll go pee pee in the toilet and it will be so exciting" he doesn't mean it and when he ends up peeing on the rocking chair in the baby's room he really didn't mean it.

Anyone know how to get a kid to sit on a toilet? That apparently is the first step to toilet training that we seem to have overlooked.





"Thing Two" is still cute as ever and not concerned about toilet training. Thank goodness. Last night Thing One was at my parents - we went to the zoo then swimming and then they kept him (thank you). Ross and I ate dinner together with Thing Two and the conversation went something like this.

The scene: Ross eating. Annie holding Squirt and eating. Squirt, watching and participating in the conversation to the best of his ability.

Ross: Did we ever do this when Elliott was this age?

Annie: You mean sit down together and eat dinner? No, we didn't.

Ross: What did we do?

Annie: I fixed dinner while you took the screaming child upstairs with you. Then after I fixed dinner I ate it by myself while you sat with screaming child on the couch. After I ate, I took the screamer and you ate at the kitchen table by yourself - then you cleaned up. Usually I could get him to sleep for a few minutes break from screaming.

Ross: Oh yeah, that sucked.

Annie and Ross: Thank you baby!

Squirt: ofe4tulsn oewigufwpi (that means you're welcome)

Besides participating in adult conversation, pukes a lot. Baby puke is way over-rated. I'm pretty much over it. I wish the kid was, too. He pretty much pukes all the time, though the frequency and amount has decreased in the last week (knock on wood).

Here is some video proof of what we deal with in the talk and puke department. If nothing else, it makes life interesting. It's like a game - when and where will the puke happen next?

The Squirt:: 8 weeks

Even though the Squirt is officially two months old at the end of the week, he hit his 8 week mark today.

The last four weeks with this kid have been as good as the first four. He's happy, content, hungry, pukey, and happy.

He smiles and talks and coo's at me all the day long. He is patient and sweet with his parents and brother.

He is cuddly and sweet and generous with the lovin' both in giving and receiving.

This little guy fully recognizes my voice and my face now and nothing makes me happier than seeing his eyes light up when I come into focus. The other day, my mom was changing his diaper and when I entered the room talking, he turned to find me and when he did - I was shocked at his reaction. Bright eyes, kicking legs, flailing hands and as much talking as his little mouth could spit out. Oh, it just melts my heart every single time.

The last few weeks have been crazy and hectic and out of control. That saying, when it rains it pours? It was said for our little family. With all that's been going on, this little guy has handled it like a champ. Every day, every time I look at him I feel so lucky that I get to be his mama. We've had a few incidences in the last couple of weeks with projectile puking and stomach bugs - and very very dry and sensitive skin, but otherwise, all is well.

He is the calm in a storm of crazy.

Two weeks ago, he weighed in at 13.3 lbs. I'm sure that at his 2 month appointment next week, we'll be close to the 15 lb mark.



Oh so in love with this boy!

Whirlwind, as usual

The 4th of July has never been my favorite. Too many people to see and places to go. Since being married, Ross and I have managed to be out of town or sick for the 4th the last 6 years but this year we were around, and made the best of it.

We did though, schedule ourselves to work at Shavy Jones Locker in the evening to avoid as many festivities, and fireworks as possible.

As part of our day yesterday, we went to my aunts house. In the last three months we've added three new babies, 3 great grandchildren to the family.



These boys are almost exactly one month apart each (r-l; Cody on April 4, Wyatt on May 12 and Max on June 9). Elliott was part of a threesome of boy cousins two and a half years ago so it's a bit funny that Wyatt is, too.

These boys are so cute and cuddly and seeing my grandma with all three of them, is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Today, we blessed the Squirt in church. Ross gave him a great blessing and the meeting was as interesting as it could be - letting anyone use the microphone always proves to be a bit dangerous. Not all of our family was in attendance because of the busy weekend, but we were so happy to have so many people come out in support of our little family at church and at our lunch at the park after.

I love my family so much - immediate, extended, and in-lawed. It amazes me every time how easily we all come together and jump to the aide of each other. Everyone brought so much food and I will forever be indebted to the kindness and love and generosity of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grand parents.

So - rather that be patriotic this season, with love of country - I'm thinking a bit more internally, with love of family. Ross and I were dependent on so many people for help the last few months before Wyatt was born and the first few weeks after. There is no way we could ever repay all the love and kindness. And, I just can't beat an afternoon at the park, with food and all the people I would rather spend my time with than any others in the world.

Thanks to everyone.

My Boys Friday: the talent portion of the program

Thing One:

He loves to sing. He loves the Temple. When you combine the two, you get this. (We've been working on our song for weeks)



Thing Two:

Besides being an exceptionally talented puker (my gosh does this kid spew. All the time, everywhere. It's just disgusting.), this sweet baby of mine is a talker...and he'll talk (at least a little) in front of a camera.

Enjoy the cuteness.