Flashbacks

I like days like today. Where I had a lot of flash-forwards of the flashbacks I will one day have. As I sat reading Deeter his truck book for the tenth time today while he ate his lunch, I saw myself in 20 years looking back to this exact memory and smiling as I remembered it. As I remembered the sweet 2 year old that knew how to finish a lot of my sentences. "The truck is....." ........."stuck," always shouted. I nostalgically remembered the innocence, the light that was hitting us just right.  Even though it was happening right now. I remembered that is was just him and I. I felt the same way as I fed Kaia her rice cereal. As she was smiling up at me, I briefly had a memory. That when I was a little girl, I dreamed of feeding babies baby food, and after I put the food in their mouth, of wiping the excess with the spoon. Because for some reason, that was the most inviting part of the whole process to me. Today I thought how I don't get to do that much longer. And it made me sad. And then I saw myself in 20 years, reflecting back on this very moment as my sweet daughter gave me nothing short of huge smiles as I filled her tummy. I would remember these as the good ole days. Before she ever talked back to me, before we ever fought, before she ever told me she hated me. Because those days are bound to come. And that too makes me sad. These everyday things of feedings, changing diapers- while they may appear mundane- are what I know. They are my comfort zone. And while it's tempting to wish them away, I want to remember- right here, right now- to slow down. Because while they may not be the most pleasant things, I know how to do them. I know how to almost always get the babies to laugh while they're getting their booties changed, I know how to talk to them while I'm feeding them. And there are so many things that I don't know how to do. I don't know how to tell my kids that they are still loved and priceless when they're getting picked on at school. I don't know how to help my kids make good decisions when their peers aren't. I don't know how to teach my kids that it's cool to not be cool. But to laugh and joke and take care of and feed- I can do that. I want to hold onto this golden stage of life for as long as I can. Or at least soak it up while it's here.

I love these glimpses into the future that quickly take me back to today. They are little reminders to enjoy right now. They are gifts to remind me to slow down and don't fret the small stuff. Amazing reality check...flash-forwards of flashbacks of today.

Because who doesn't want to be the Cool Mom

There are some highly-sought after titles out there to be obtained. Some are completely out of my grasp, others out of my interest, but there remain a select few that are both desireable and obtainable. And guess what? Sometimes I want to be the cool mom. The good news? I know how. The answer comes in one word. Really that simple. So simple that I think it's the first word Dallin ever spelled.

There is nothing more satisfying than the boys hanging out with their friends and hearing one (it's always the same friend!) of them say, "Dallin, should we ask your mom for some Oreos?"  I always get a coy little smile before the question shyly escapes. And there is never hesitation...the answer is always yes. Even if we just got done with 10 other treats. Because no friend will ever be denied Oreos at my house. And for those of you that have ever caught me at the grocery store with a basket full of Oreos, you know that I'm not messing around. That's one of very few items I'll pay full price for if I'm desperate enough. And when I get lucky and find them on sale....watch out. The other day, I kid you not, they were 99 cents. Look, I couldn't even find a cents sign on the computer because sales like that are unheard of anymore. But that was the going price. The catch: limit 2. I'm not even going to divulge how many times I visited Ralph's during that little sale period. And I may or may not have had Dallin in line behind me with his $2.09 in hand to get us an extra 2 packs. But I refuse to be caught off guard. All it takes is hearing the kids reaction one time when you say "yes" and you'll be sold. Not only will you be sold....you'll feel pretty cool. Unfortunately that's about the only tip I have thus far on being a cool mom.

Always in a pickle

You know I think I finally pinpointed what is possibly the most frustrating thing about parenting for me. This came to me as I had just finished a 2 hour bout of repeatedly putting Deeter back in his pack n play after he climbed out time and time again...times how ever many times you can do that in two hours. Because that's what I saw Super Nanny or Nanny 911 do once on a show that I probably caught a bit of some 5 years ago. And that's what I had to go on. No other tools in the shed you know. And after this incident, that is when I put my finger on the overwhelming frustration of parenting....and that is that you never really know that you're doing what's right. Or what's best. Or that you're for surely going to get the outcome you're seeking. I'm probably not alone in that I push ahead with my fingers crossed....but I really don't know. As I "parent", I'm simultaneously doing the nervous foot twitch because I simply am going off my best guess. And who wants to be putting all this time, effort, energy, and emotion into something that is nothing more than a "best guess"? It's quite a pickle. I'm coming to learn that when you decide to become a parent, you decide- most likely unconciously- to put yourself in many a pickles. Because so often we find ourselves stuck in the middle with no sure way to run.

A couple of months ago, I had a short interval with the two little kids before I had to run off with the two big kids and I wanted to make the best of it. With Kaia in arms, I asked Deeter if he wanted to go for a walk. By "walk", I meant to the end of the street and back. We reached the end of the street and Deeter was ready to turn the corner. I, on the other hand, was not ready to turn the corner. I tried the lawyer solution by explaining my definition of walk, but that little not-even-2-year-old wasn't buying it. And we were turning the corner. And the next corner. And the next one. Now surely the question in your head right now is...."Did you keep turning right?" Because by this point we would have been right back where we started if that were the case. Unfortunately the answer is NO. We were getting further and further away from home. Deeter did not have shoes on. I did not have a stroller for either baby. And Deeter does weigh somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 pounds. And with each step we took, I KNEW I was getting myself in a pickle. But I kept praying I'd be able to outrun the defense. But Deeter's a hard-baller and finally three blocks away, I knew I was stuck. We/I made the turn around and not a chance I was looking back. Because eye contact ruins everything. I was just praying that he was following. "Come on, Deeter, just this one time and I promise I'll never ask another thing of you." You know those desperate pleas you throw out from time to time that make absolutely no sense and have no chance of ever being adhered to. Well, that's the kind of dialogue I had running through my head. The one last plea. And it worked. For about 6 steps. And then there was no option, I was hauling his large self in one arm and that tiny little Kaia girl in the other. And we rounded a corner and before my arm fell off and he went down with it, I surrendered. He was going to have to walk. I kept up my pace and stopped to look back at the next corner and there he was face down on the tummy, arms a flailing, demonstrating your stereotypical tantrum. And I was out of pleas. I had spent my last one. And to think it only bought me 6 steps. And you know things are bad when some guy is on the street with his car door open, standing there changing clothes for all the world to see and looking at you like, "You should be pretty embarrassed right now." But I just stood and watched. Not the clothes-changing session, the tantrum. Because that's all I could do. It was another one of those parenting moments where you have absolutely no idea if you're doing the right thing, the best thing, or the thing that is going to work but you've picked it and are sticking with it. And I waited until that little Deeter popped up a couple minutes later with some casual comment like, "Oh....Hi, Mom." And if he was going to keep it casual, then I was going to keep it casual. So I kept walking, and miraculously so did he until he couldn't, and then I carried him until I couldn't and then I put him down and.......repeat previous tantrum minus the naked-starer. And eventually we made it home. Lesson learned. Better yet- reiterated. Because I knew better in the first place. But all in all, pickle was over. Until the next one came around. Because like I said, there is no escaping pickles as a parent. Get used to being in a pickle.

Biggest yet best pickle of all....you love your kids way too much to run away for good!

I thought it was a moment.....

Tonight we were having a moment. It was just the boys, the baby, and I. We've been with family all week and were in a rare moment where it was just the five of us. We were all in a good mood, enjoying the outdoors. I was watching those little boys at the park, amazed at how they've developed from being a little baby like the one I held in my arms to these independant individuals. And I was feeling especially awestruck to be part of their journey. To be the one who gets to see a side of them that no one else is priviliged to know. To be able to love these specific kids the way only a mother can. We were having a moment. And I wanted to help them recognize this moment. "Boys, I'm feeling something super special right now." "What, Mom?" "I'm feeling so lucky to be your Mom, that you guys are the greatest-" "Mom, can you just come help me?" Let me rephrase that- I was having a moment. There was no "we" in this special moment. "But boys I'm bearing my soul...."

Because that's what I'll be having to tell Yosh after a heart-felt confession of one sort or the other. A heart-felt confession that is answered in one of two ways: a) silence or b) [insert some comment about the Cougars]  "But Yosh, I just bore you my soul...." "Oh babe, I'm sorry, what?" Rule #1 in soul-bearing.... it's a one shot deal. No repeat available.

(you know I got nothing but love for you babe!)

Which is why I'm lucky to have this little lady in my life. 

Although it's just a feeling, I think I'll be enjoying many a heart-to-hearts with her. Not just heart-to-sweetboysclosedearswhoreallycarebutjustcan'tfocus. Love my boys- all of them, love my girl.

ANNIE

Here are my stars of the show...Daddy Warbucks and Rooster.

These boys were in "Annie" last weekend and what kind of a mother would I be if I didn't think they stole the show? So that is what I think. This was Dallin B's third time performing on stage and he did it like the seasoned pro that he is. It was Porter's first time on stage and, well, he too filled that role just perfectly!

I'll tell you what, the predicaments you're put in as a parent can sometimes be a little unnerving. Porter was up on stage acting like he belonged there but some of the words coming out of his mouth sure didn't belong there. The nerves were manifesting themselves through statements such as, "I already said that." And, "This is stupid." And, "This is Deeter's favorite part. Deeter is two." And I'll have you know the nerves were running just as high in seat 6D as I had to sit and watch this scene play out. In my head I'm thinking, "Does everyone know he's just nervous- that this is his way of showing it?" I'm also thinking, "Come on, Porter, you're killing me." I'm trying to send out vibes of, "He's really a sweet boy who has worked hard on his lines- please tell me you're grasping that!" So I sit there smiling strong, proud of my boy. And the last thing I'm sitting there thinking is, "You've got to be kidding me...he is exactly like his mother." Because when I get a strong case of nerves, I say inappropriate things. I lose the ability to think, but unfortunately not the ability to talk. And definitely don't lose the ability to giggle (like when I was getting married, or in front of the judge when I was 17) nor the ability to swing hap-hazardly at the individual making me nervous (like when I was proposed to) but these are all stories for a different time.

And we all survived without getting kicked off stage or passing out. And not a single person commented on the few parts that made my booty pucker. Only rave reviews. Especially of Dallin making his grand entrance. Imagine the curtains opening to him standing there like a Greek God. And holding the pose. And then holding it a little longer. And maybe even a little longer....until the grandeur of his entrance would be appreciated! Phew!!! Because I was beginning to think he might just decide to stand there basking in the spotlight until someone pushed him out to his spot!

Why is it that when I take pictures with the boys it turns out looking like this awkward, holding them up or down kinda pose? But with Papi- everything looks smooth. Maybe Cami will do a post about how to me more photogenic and natural! (Just a suggestion, Cam!)

Anyways, a big Bravo for these up and comers!

Potty Talk

To the Man who RULES our House

Without a doubt, this is our captain. And I'll have to say his birthday was a success. I felt like it was a bit of a gamble taking the kids to the zoo but things went rather well. And looking back- my 18 hours of retrospect- it's no mystery why. As most other days, this little Sir was in charge. The difference yesterday...no rebels were in tow (namely: ME.) He had his ducks in a row and we followed him around like the leader he is and there were no meltdowns, no power struggles, just good times. At two years old, I always wonder if they really catch on to the birthday. And while I still don't know that, I think he knew it was a special day for him. By yesterday he finally stopped screaming, "Noooooooooooooo" when we said, "Who's having a birthday?" or "Who's turning 2?" or "Who's the Birthday Boy?" It was a gnarly week of prep but I'm thinking it paid off because a time or two, I heard him offer up on his own, "Dodo 2." Interpreted Deeter 2. And maybe a time or two even sang Happy Birthday to Dodo instead of interjecting the name Harrison as he's been doing all week. Oh he's a cute boy and glad to have him entertaining us.
      

Now yesterday, he wasn't our only entertainer. And in the moment I wouldn't have even considered this entertainment, but it only took an hour for me to have the first random chuckle at this incident and they've continued since. We were on our way home from Santa Barbara and had thus far had an excellent day. No melt downs (the boys.) No temper tantrums (me.) But I was a tired mama. Like stop and grab a Mountain Dew for the hour and a half drive home cuz otherwise I might fall asleep tired. And we had made it. We were there. We were home. I could almost taste it. Two miles to go. Three sleeping children. One barely having woken up. When a second one starts to wake. And he always wakes up like a bear, growling. So when this process began, I wasn't alarmed but knew to let him do his thing. He got out of his seat belt and I didn't say a word. I'm thinking, "Let the boy stretch out and maybe we'll avoid 5 minutes of growling/screaming." Dallin questions this and I tell him to relax. But then Dallin says, "Mom, why is he pulling down his underwear?" I whip around as fast as my little neck would allow to see this child, pants down, standing in pee-ing position. I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening. At a red light 2 measly miles from home, my mind will not accept that Porter is about to pee all over the back seat of the van. There has got to be some other explanation....but THERE'S NOT. I go into emergency mode ready to divert the disaster. "Porter, DO YOU HAVE TO PEE?" Who knows what he says but the answer to the question is more than obvious. So I hand him an empty water bottle and say, "Ok, well just pee into this." And we've done this a number of times. Without incident. No dirty hands, no splashage, not even necessary to touch the boy parts- it's the best port-a-potty ever invented. And he knows how to do this. So he takes the bottle. I'm desperately going in intervals of looking for my green light and hurriedly returning my eyes to the unfolding drama in the back seat. And he starts to pee....all over the back seat. And the floor. And my heart DROPS. And he keeps peeing. Images of the bottle of water he's been drinking. And the whole bottle of Vitamin Water. I'm watching it all come out. And I'm just huffing and puffing and pouting, speechless. That sickening feeling takes over me. Like when you're on a road trip and find out you've been going the wrong way for an hour and a half and the only way to get back on track is to take the same road back for an hour and a half. Because I was that tired. And that's how badly I didn't want to be cleaning up a mess of these sorts. But the potty kept coming. And the smell started traversing. And he pulled his wet pants up and sat down like, "WHAT?" Not a word to be said. I drove that long two miles home- defeated. And he rode those two miles home- satisfied. 

I think my boy was still more than half-way asleep during this incident, bless his heart. We got home, I ate some brownies, put on my big girl pants, and got the mess cleaned up. Turns out his aim wasn't half-bad as he really didn't hit any material. He stuck to the removable mat and areas that a little 409 and towel took care of in no time at all. And like I said, in the short time that has passed, I've already had many a laughs. Thank you, Porter.

(you didn't think these were going to be pics of Porter doing his business, did ya?!)


Happy Birthday, Deeter!

Dreamin....

  

  

Forget smaller feet and bigger boobs. Now at the top of my wish list.....energy!