Lainie's 10th Birthday

Today Lainie turned 10.

I'm still wrapping my head around that, to be honest.

Not just that she is 10, but that I have a 10 year old.

It's a little crazy. I remember being 10 pretty clearly still. Which means Lainie is remembering everything that's happening now. Or most of it, anyway.

I hate how cliche it is to say that time flies, because it's so unbearably true.

It goes so fast, it's like there is an invisible hand somewhere, constantly pressing fast forward, but you can't feel it. You can't feel it until a moment is gone.

Until it's all over.

When Lainie was a baby, I remember thinking I would never get through her first year.

Her first year was so, so hard for me.

The lack of sleep, the sore, leaky boobs, the diapers, the crying, the impossibility of getting us into a routine, and all the while my postpartum hormones duking it out with my 16 year old girl hormones.

I didn't think it would ever end.

But then, it did. And once it did, I looked back and couldn't understand where the days went.

That year was the beginning of a constant sense of speed.

The years are flying by, and every time I think "this phase of her life/attitude/stubbornness is going to last forever and I will not survive it" I remember that first year, how hard it was, but how much I missed it when it was over, and how upset I was that it had gone so terribly fast.

I took the kids out this evening to my favorite shooting location in the valley, and did a little photo shoot just for Lainie. 

Of course I had to include Jack a little bit, lest he grow up to be that guy from the move Se7en, because didn't pay enough attention to him {seriously, these are the fears you have when you two kids, and no idea what you're doing}.

Lainie is growing up so fast, and into such a pretty young lady.

Every time I hit the shutter button and looked at the image on the LCD, my heart caught in my throat, and I felt a weird/sad mixture of "oh my God, how beautiful" and "NOOOOOOO!"

It's hard to explain, but if you have kids, I think you know.

The passing of time is such a happy, miserable thing.

Happy Birthday, Tiny.

You are loved, more than you will ever understand.

A Letter To My Children: On Adulting

Lainie and Jackson.

You are both so cute, and still so little.

Almost 10 and half way through 5, you both have the wildest ideas of what being a grown up is like.

You talk about it like it will be the best thing ever, like you'll be large and in charge, like you'll have it all figured out and all the best come backs for bullies and great shoes and no one can tell you that you've had enough ice cream.

This is all true, sort of, but it's true in the way "It's a free country, I can do what I want" is true.

There's downsides, consequences, and bad days.

There are responsibilities and chores and something you're forgetting every time you leave the house.

No one really prepared me for all this when I was your ages....or ever, really, so I would like to impart some knowledge that I wish had been given to me at some point:

 

There will be days, once you're an adult, where you feel like an absolute fucking fraud.

Like you're wearing your mother's heels and pearls, playing dress up.

You won't feel like an adult yet, but you'll be standing in front of all kinds of grown up shit that people think you're capable of handling.

You'll think to yourself on those days "How did this happen? When did people decide I was a grown up? Whose fucking mistake it this?!"

You will feel it when you take NyQuil later than you should and sleep through you're alarm, waking up only when your boss calls to find out where the fuck you are.

You will feel it when you run out of gas, even though the little gas light had been on for days, and you just kept saying "I'll stop for gas after this errand" and then after said errand, thinking "fuck it, I'll do it later, I'm exhausted."

You'll feel it the first time you send your kid to school with a Lunchable because remembering to buy bread just doesn't seem to be something your brain has the capacity to do right now.

You will feel it when you have more pizza boxes and wine bottles in the trash than vegetable containers {don't do that}.

There will be hard days.

Really hard days.

There will even be weeks or sometimes months, where the hours in the day and the shit you need to do, and the amount of people counting on you just don't balance out.

You'll think "I can't do this. My life is a mess. I'm a mess. I am failing. I'm a shitty adult."

The truth is, you might be a shitty adult and your life might be a mess, but more than likely you're really not, or if you are, it's temporary.

You'll struggle sometimes, but the important thing is to keep trying.

Keep trying to keep your shit together, and eat more vegetables.

Remember, every time you fail you most likely did not invent that mistake. Someone else likely made it before you, and {hopefully} fucked it up even worse than you did.
But for the days when nothing goes right, and you feel like the absolute worst version of yourself, remember that a clean pair of underpants and a snack covered in cheese can do wonders for your outlook.

Keep going.
Keep failing.
Keep trying.



Throw Back Tuesday: 2009

These pictures were from 2009, sometime in the Spring. 

Jackson wasn't even one year old yet. Lainie was the same age Jack is now. 

We lived in the Willo district in downtown Phoenix.

I had just met Bill.

Jackson's dad had just moved to Minnesota.

It was a weird time.

But on this particular day, the kids were playing on the floor, scattering toys everywhere, making a huge mess, and I was sitting on the couch snapping pictures of them, and laughing at Jackson trying to eat a banana the wrong way.

It was a good day. 

Our Weekend in Pictures

Normally my pre-scheduled posts go up around midnight.

I don't know why I pick this hour.

I guess I feel like night owls and morning birds alike will get to read the blog at whatever chosen point they like to.

Late at night while you're having some wine and listening to a little Ray? It's up.

First thing in the morning while you're sipping coffee? Go for it, I hooked you up even though your morning person nature confuses and frightens me. 

But this is not a scheduled post.

I am actually up, right now at 12:26 a.m. writing this. 

Jackson had to come home early from school with strep, and he slept all afternoon. So now, he sleeps for about 30 minutes at a time when the sickness wears him out, and then he's up again for another 30 minutes, and demands I hang out with him.

So, here I am.

Saturday, I did a wedding photography consultation with the adorable couple in the picture above. They met at a dance lesson at Denim and Diamonds, and are getting married 1 day after the 1 year anniversary of their engagement.

So cute.

After that, I got to take this little girl out for burgers and fries and strawberry shakes.

We worked on her Junior Achievement project, and she schooled me on Harry Potter trivia.

Love her.

Sunday morning I hung out with this dude. My nephew Theron.

He has the cutest smile, and the most adorable little feet, and I could just eat him up I love him so much.

And Sunday evening, I did a photo shoot with Aria, and her parents Ashley and Sam.

It was an absolutely beautiful day, in the low 80's which is HUGE for Phoenix, so everyone and their mama was at the park, but we still managed to get some nice, relaxed and intimate pictures.

And omg those cheeks.

And last but not least, I got this awesome bottle of wine as a gift from Sam and Ashley.

I have a pretty kick ass job.

What did you do this weekend?

Do Parents Have Favorites?

 

People who do not have children, ask me all the time if I have a favorite child.

When my sisters and brother and I were growing up, we asked all the time if our parents had a favorite.

The correct answer that you give your child, always, forever, is no. I do not have a favorite. I love you all the same.

The truth of course, at least in my opinion, is yes.

Parents have favorites.

The caviat to this uncomfortable truth, is that favorites change over time, depending on the age and the stage that your kids are in.

When your 16 year old daughter is screaminig that she hates you from the top of the stairs, as she throws the expensive shit you bought her around the bedroom in the house you pay for, over something as trivial as what you made for dinner, she is probably not your favorite.

In that moment, the child who is sitting quietly at the table coloring you a picture, probably looks like they're sitting in a golden ray of heaven's light. Perfect.

But, when that lovely angel baby who was coloring you a picture yesterday, throws a screaming tantrum in Walmart over a water gun today, and your bratty 16 year old daughter is the one to calm them down and distract them, you would suddenly give anything to bathe in the glow of your precious teenage cherub's spirit energy.

Sometimes favorites change by the day, sometimes they change with the beginning or end of a new phase, or particularly difficult age group.

 

I don't like the fact that this isn't something we can admit to, at least among other adult parents, far from the prying ears of our sensitive children.

Of course I would never say to my lovely son that because he has been acting like a meth addicted lab monkey for the past 6 weeks, and making my hair fall out in crazy, horror movie stress clumps, he is not my favorite right now.

But I wonder why we're so scared to admit it to one another, as parents.

Are we scared to admit that our children are not perfect?

Is it uncomfortable to look at them, and our relationships with them, that nakedly?

Does it feel wrong to admit that there are aspects of our children's personalities that are hard for us to deal with or accept?

As parents we're supposed to love completely, 100%, and unconditionally.

Does admitting that we sometimes don't like every single thing about our kids every day of their lives, feel like we're not loving them like we're supposed to?

Maybe we're being too hard on ourselves.

To be fair, we don't get a lot of say in who our children are, in the most basic aspects of the personality anyway.

When we have kids, we have as little control, if not less, over what kind of personality they will have, than we do what eye color they're born with or if they're right or left handed.

There is no guarantee that we as human beings, will mesh perfectly with every aspect of their ever evolving and changing personalities and unique identities, all the time.

We will love them, we will cherish them, but we may not always harmonize with them.

There will almost definitely be times where our relationship with one child is requiring more work, while simultaneously our relationship with the other is in an easier phase, a period of closeness and harmony that just happens to be coming more easily at that exact moment.

And that's ok.

And, if we're being honest, there will almost definitely be qualities or traits to our children, that we would not like very much if we encountered them in a perfect stranger, and therefor will require more effort from us in order to be patient and accepting of those things all the time.

And that's ok.

 

I don't believe this means I love either of my kids less than the other.

I think it means that I recognize their differences.

They are two completely individual and unique people. Both have their own wonderful set of charms and blessings that they've bestowed upon my life. Both children also have their own unique set of challenges and struggles, and both children go through their own phases of growing up that are hard on me in different ways.

 

And maybe it does even mean that I love them differently.

Not different amounts, but in different ways.

Love is not a blanket that can be blindly tossed over everyone in the same way.

It's a unique and precious bond between two people, a commitment that takes work, and flexibility.

My children are not identical to each other,

they are not identical to me,

they will not be the same people for the rest of their lives.

They have to be loved in different ways.

 

In the end though, when we have kids, it's like entering a marriage that we can't ever get out of.

It won't be a honey-tinted Pampers commercial all the time, any more than marriage is a rose colored Zales commercial all the time either.

It will require work, it will get hard, it will sometimes be your least favorite thing to do.

There shouldn't be anything wrong with admitting to that.

 

What gets us through raising little humans, is not that its all roses or that our children never irritate, infuriate, or disappoint us.

It's that unlike a marriage, you can't ever fall out of love with your kids.

No matter how much they scream they hate you and your tasteless chicken, from the top of the stairs.

 

 



1st Days

The kids started school yesterday.

Lainie in fourth grade, Jackson in Kindergarten.

Both the kids being in school at once, has been a milestone I've waited for for a long time. 

Now that it's here, it's surreal, sad, wonderful, and scary.

I forgot how much you fear for your kids on their very first day in school, which even though it's just Kindergarten, feels very much like "the big bad world".

I forgot about how I laid awake at night and wondered "What if she goes to the bathroom and can't find her way back to her class and just sits in the hall crying all alone?" and "What if she can't get her juice box open at lunch and no one is there to help her so she's thirsty?", when Lainie was first getting started.

We had four years of school under our belts. She was a pro, and aside from the usual girl drama and other-people's-kids stuff, I didn't do much laying awake at night worrying.

Now it's Jackson's turn, and the fear is all coming back to me.

What if he gets asked a question and he doesn't know the answer?

Did we practice the ABC's enough? Oh God, what's enough?

What if he gets lost?

What if he gets distracted and they leave him on the playground after recess and then someone walks up and just takes him?

What if the sky falls?

What if he's not ready?

What if I'm not ready?

Why did I want this day to come so badly?

I wish he could have stayed four forever.

Of course I don't really want him to be four forever, just like I didn't really want Lainie to stay home with me forever.

I want them to both grow up, find their feet and their wings, and go have great big lives.

But with every new milestone, with every new transition into another phase of their life, and the way it inevitably separates from mine with time, I feel myself holding on, and wishing I could stay in control a little longer. 

Wishing I could always be there to open every juice box, to wipe every tear, to hold every hand on every walk to the bathroom.

To always make sure they won't be alone and confused and scared.

I feel myself secretly wishing for that, while I outwardly smile, kiss their cheeks, and gently push them toward the door of the school.

Because I know they have to be alone

And confused

And even sometimes scared

In order to have a great big life.

So I kiss their cheeks, and let go of their hands.

Mothering Girls

Raising girls, and raising boys, are two very different things.

I've written before about what it's like to mother a boy.

About the amount of damage they cause which you can measure in dollars and trips to urgent care, because boys are wild and dangerous. I've written about how they can be tearing the backyard apart one minute, and cuddling sweetly with the kittens on the couch the next. Sword fighting, and asking for hugs for no reason.

Girls come with their own unique set of contradictions.

Girls are emotional, from the time that they're born.

Girls are complicated, and their relationships with their mother tends to be even more complicated.

They are all at once telling you you're crushing their soul and all of their beliefs because when they asked if the house was haunted, you said no, and then in the same breath calling you their best friend and can they please paint your nails?

Girls most natural instinct, is to be just like their mother, without being anything like her at all. We have to rebel against the woman who made us, to prove that we are our own person. But we also have to make her mistakes and steal her shoes, because she is the highest idea of womanhood that we know.

Girls don't break things, and their rooms are usually a little cleaner.

They would never think of taking a black Sharpie to your leather couch, and they make you birthday cards with glitter on them and are the first person to tell you that you look pretty before a job interview.

But they also are overflowing with emotions much bigger than they are, and their second strongest instinct, which is to find and keep a feeling of safety and security, dictates that when all that emotion comes spilling out in waves that overpower them, they will always direct the storm at the person they know loves them the most, and therefore is the most likely to forgive them, and still let them paint their nails.

Mothering girls is very different from mothering boys.

The Talk

As most of you know, Jackson's father is not in the picture. 

He hasn't been since he moved to Minnesota when Jackson was just a tiny baby.

For the most part, Jack hasn't ever really asked about his dad. 

He's said things here and there, when other kids talk about their dad, or when I talk about my dad, he'd casually say "Do I have a dad?" and I'd answer "Yes. Everyone comes from a mommy and a daddy."

He would seem satisfied, and the conversation would end there.

He's little, and I didn't want to force a whole 'talk' on him before he was ready, let alone before he was even so much as very curious.

Last Sunday though, it finally came up.

I was making dinner, and he was sitting at the table watching me, when all of a sudden he said

Can I see my dad?

My heart caught in my throat, and for a second in was like time stopped.

It was a moment I've been waiting for, expecting, knowing would some day come, but completely unable to really, really, prepare for.

It was just a talk I knew we'd someday have, and I knew deep down inside that when that moment arrived, I'd figure it out.

I caught my breath and turned to Jackson and very simply said

I wish you could, buddy. But I don't think that will happen any time soon. I'm sorry.

I knew he wouldn't drop it at that, and he didn't.

Why? Why can't I see him? I just want to see him and talk to him. Who is he? Didn't I ever meet him before?

At this point he was still calm, and not upset, so I didn't let myself be upset either.

You met him when you were just a baby, I said. But then he moved away, and he didn't come back, and I'm sorry that he didn't come back. I'm sorry you don't get the chance to know him. 

Tears welled up in his perfect blue eyes, and I wanted to burn down the entire world for the unfairness of this moment.

So I went on.

I said I loved him. I said I was here, and I was never going to go anywhere. I said that there were a lot of people in the world who loved him and would always be there for him. I said it might be hard to not know your dad, but that doesn't mean you don't have a family. You don't need a dad to have a family.

He looked at me, a little confused, but his face had changed. He looked hopeful.

You don't? He asked.

No, I said. You just need people who love you.

At that, Lainie nearly killed me by reaching over and touching his shoulder, and saying "Yeah, like me. And mommy. And the kitties. We're a family."

I could've died. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen her do. And that's saying a lot - she's a very sweet kid. But she's also very much a big sister to her baby brother, and she would sooner lick a toad than kiss him or hug him or let him know she would be lost without him.

I don't know at what point Jackson will start making long-term memories. 

I don't know if he's already made his first memory or not. The first one he'll still recall when he's 30 for no good reason.

But I hope if he does save any of this in his heart for later, that Lainie touching his shoulder and telling him he has a family, no matter what, makes it into his heart and mind forever.

It takes a village.

When You're Outnumbered in the Morning

In the morning, I have three people to get ready: me, and both the kids.

I remember when Lainie was two or three, thinking "God it will be so nice when she's a couple years older and can dress herself in the morning." 

Flash forward six years, and I'm still picking out her clothes, and dressing five year old Jack like he's a damn toddler.

It's hard.

Luckily I've never been one to care too much about how I look, so going to work every day looking close to homeless because I was the last to get ready, and I was subsequently out of time, is nothing new to me.

For the most part Lainie can physically dress herself, and Jack can too if we all have 5 hours to sit around while he takes 1 hour to put on each item of clothing, allowing for 10 minute play breaks in between each thing, and as long as I don't mind Lainie being too lazy to get clean underwear out of her drawer, or trying to leave the house in a sundress in February or a sweatsuit in August.

At any rate, mornings can be a fucking mad house around here, and while I'm not by any means perfect at navigating them calmly, these are my tips for any one else who ever has to get more than one kid ready early in the morning by themselves, and still also put their own clothes on before leaving the house:

1. If one of your kids is not a morning person, but another one of them is, always get the morning person up first. Let the morning grump ass sleep a couple more minutes, and use this time to like, brush your teeth or wash your face, or any of those other "little things" that are always done in the last half second before you ABSOLUTELY MUST LEAVE NOW OR BE SUPER LATE.

2. Pick clothes out the night before. I say this, yet I'm terrible at it, so I do one of two things: I either pick out the outfit for the morning grumpy kid {Jack} during those couple extra minutes I gave him to sleep, or I if I do remember to pick out his clothes the night before, I try dress him in them after his bath and before bed.

I know that sounds lazy and terrible, but hear me out: I usually only put the shirt on him, and only if it's a t-shirt, and obviously the clean underwear and the socks. He HAS to wear gym shoes to daycare, and finding socks in the morning for three people is similar to dismantling a bomb in the rain with someone giving you instructions in Japanese. I put his bottoms at the foot of his bed, and throw those on him as soon as he gets up, before he can argue.

3. Relax about TV in the morning. Once you've dressed both kids, or at least provided the ones that are old enough to dress themselves with clothes, let them read or watch TV or play a video game, or WHATEVER, so you can have a couple minutes alone in the bathroom to get ready. The mornings I get the most pissed off and stabby are the mornings when both kids are under my feet in the bathroom while I'm stumbling around trying to get ready. Also, you can use TV as a reward, for say, putting on your Goddamn shoes. "Put your shoes on in the next 30 seconds, and not only will I not leave you at a fire station, but I'll also let you watch TV for 10 minutes before we leave"

4. Give warnings. I like 15, 10, and 5 minute warnings. I announce that we are absolutely leaving in X amount of time, and I stick to it. If you aren't done getting dressed or getting your stuff together in that amount of time, you are getting in the car as you are, period. I have definitely taken kids to school in pajamas, without backpacks, or clutching Ziploc bags of dry cereal because they screwed around and didn't get ready until there was no time for breakfast. If you have to put your shoes on in the car on the way to school, fine. 

Trust me, it only takes a couple times of this for kids to really pay attention to your warnings.

5. Do it together. I've learned that once the kids are all dressed, it's sometimes easier to do stuff like face washing, teeth brushing and hair combing all together at one time. Sure the bathroom is super crowded, but you can go through in one swoop and do all those quick tasks at once, and nobody's teeth or hair gets forgotten. Yes, I've done that too.

6. Last but not least, coffee.

For the love of all that is good and sacred in this world, motherfucking coffee, please and thank you.

How do you get your minion army out the door on time?

Shit My Kids Say When They're Supposed to be in Bed

"I have to go potty"

"I'm thirsty"

"I wanted ice in my water"

"I want to find my baseball glove from last summer and sleep with it."

"I need more stuffed animals to sleep with"

"I have to go potty again"

"When was Harry Potter written?"

"How much ice cream can I have tomorrow?"

"I'm hungry again"
"Last time I promise"

"What noise does a Zebra make?"

"Where does the moon go when the sun is out?"

"I'M THIRSTY AGAIN"

"I'm just getting a snack"

"Do we have any more frosted flakes?"

"When can I go swimming again?"

"I'm not tired"

"I promise I'll still get up in the morning, but let me stay up five more minutes"

"Why can't I watch the movie with you?"

"YOURESOMEANIHATEYOU"

Someone told me once that raising kids is similar to being pecked to death by chickens.

When Your Kid Becomes a Vegetarian So You Heckle Them Without Mercy

{photo source}

Lainie decided recently to try being a vegetarian. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but I do remember sitting at the dinner table chatting with her on Friday night, when I said something about how she shouldn't ever do crystal meth, and the next thing I knew she was asking me if she could be a vegetarian. Clearly I screwed up the "Don't do drugs" speach, because it scared her off of meat {some fucking crazy how} and I'm still worried that one day she'll be in an episode of Intervention.

Anyway, I told her she could try it if she wanted to, because I like to be that parent that encourages their children to be who they are and try what they want {meth and dating politicians aside}, but then I proceeded to make meat every night for the next four nights, because I also like to be that parent who challenges their kids to stick to their guns. And by challenge I mean heckle.

Do you feel better about your own parenting yet?

So far Lainie has held strong, even after dinners of pork chops, burgers, salmon patties and mini chicken chimichangas. She ate extra servings of the sides and salads I made those nights, and usually ended up eating a couple cartons of yogurt and a peanut butter and jelly or banana and honey sandwich before bed.

I don't know exactly how long this "I'm a vegetarian" thing is going to last, but I plan to up the game a little by making spaghetti and sausage tonight and chili tomorrow.

Her two favorite things.

As much as I don't love the idea of her being a vegetarian at such a young age, especially when she's already so skinny, I'm proud of her for not giving in yet.

She is most definitely like me in so many ways, and even if she did want meat again so badly it was making her crazy, she won't give up just to prove that she can do this.

To that I say, go on with your bad self, Lainie.

You are without a doubt your mother's daughter. 

How I Do It, Pt. 3: What Its Worth

I think parenting, especially single parenting, can best be described as a very precarious juggling act.

You are constantly monitoring several spinning plates, and making sure-or trying to make sure that nothing falls and breaks.

You're also spending more time than you ever imagined wondering if you just stepped in water or pee.

People ask me a lot how I do it, and I honestly don't know how to answer that question in a neat, concise way, other than to say I just do it.

So far in this series we've talked about my village, and how important support is, and we've gone over the hectic and messy day in the life of me and my kids.

But maybe you're wondering how I do all of that.

Logistically, literally, and emotionally.

The truth is, I don't know.

I guess its sort of like a constantly running check list in my head.

I know I have two little people who cannot dress themselves 100% on their own, so I need to get up earlier than I would if the only person I needed to get ready in the morning were me. Ok, set the alarm for 6. Check.

I know I need to get three people dressed, so I start with the hardest one first, which is Jackson. Lainie is 9 now and can {mostly} dress herself. I know Lainie moves the slowest in the morning though, so she needs to be woken up first. Check.

I know that we have to be out of the house by 7:10 and no later, so I should get as much ready the night before as I can. Lay out their socks, clean underwear and Jackson's outfit because he'll usually let me pick for him. Check.

I know they need to fed, and they can't eat pizza every night, so I plan our meals two weeks in advance and plan accordingly for what will keep for two weeks, what needs to be frozen and what I should just buy later. Check, check.

I know I have two kids who both need to feel special and important and wanted and loved and attended to. I know that Jackson will seek me out when he wants a hug or a kiss or someone to play with, but Lainie will wait for you to come to her so she feels like the love is genuine.

So I seek Lainie out, kiss her face and ask her to read to me.

I know I can't always give them both what they want at the exact same time. Sometimes one of them needs to try to wait a minute and be patient. Because Jackson is younger, Lainie is usually the one who has to be patient. It breaks my heart, but I only have two hands. I try to make it up to her, but I'm sure I fail a lot.

I know that their needs have to come before my own. I know I can't yell and scream even when I am so close to yelling or screaming that its almost unbearable. I know I have to step back and breath for a second, even if that means locking myself in the closet for five minutes while they tear the house apart.

I know that they need to take baths and eat all their veggies and follow through with the things they ask to do outside of school, and always be polite and share as much as possible, but I also know that sometimes being the perfect parent just isn't worth the blood on the floor. Exceptions need to be made, grace needs to be given, and battles have to be carefully chosen.

I know they're going to fight, and I struggle with when and how much to intervene. I struggle with the line between encouraging them to play together and forcing them to just get along and stop fighting.

Sometimes that feels like forcing a square peg into a round hole.

I know the house needs to be clean and the laundry needs to be done, and as badly as I want to go to bed right now, I can't. Sometimes though, I do anyway.

I know they need a roof over their heads and clothes to wear and food to eat, and those things cost money, so I work my ass off whether I like the job I have or not, and I've taken a lot of shit from a lot of petty bosses, and I've had to leave them with family members when they were sick because I could not miss one more day of work or I'd get fired, and I know they don't understand, but I hope someday they will.

And I know that at the end of the day I'm exhausted.

I'm tired and I'm over it, and most of the time the day ends with me sitting on the couch alone, watching TV and its lonely.

I wish I had a partner, I wish I had someone here to just be exhausted with me at night, but I don't, and part of the reason is I'm so hesitant to let my kids get to know someone else, after so long of it being just me and them and occasionally Bill.

I know all of this, and sometimes its too much.

I want to cry or scream or go to bed for a week.

Sometimes I want to walk out the front door and just be by myself for an entire weekend.

But I know that when I drag my tired ass to bed, Jackson will instinctively scoot closer to me in his sleep, and Lainie will be softly breathing beside him, and the bed will be so warm, and I will know that this is my home.

This is where I belong, and these kids are just perfect for me.

They are the very best parts of me, combined with aspects of such wonder and beauty, that I know they couldn't have gotten it from me, and in those moments where it all shines through, I know I didn't make them alone.

Whoever God is, however we got here, I see it in my babies when I slow down and really pay attention.

I know its all worthwhile.

No matter how many times I step in pee.

How I Do It, Pt. 2: A Day In The Life

6:00 am - Alarm goes off. Struggle for the snooze button. Five more minutes, please.

6:05 am - Ok, now we really need to get up. Get up Jack, get up Lainie. Come on guys, its time to get up and get dressed. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE MAKE COFFEE.

6:30 - Lainie, you wore that yesterday, go change. Jack are you wearing clean socks? Do you want the dinosaur shirt or the trucks shirt? No, the Star Wars shirt is dirty, dinosaur or trucks? I'M SORRY I WILL WASH THE STAR WARS SHIRT TONIGHT, NOW PLEASE PICK BETWEEN DINOSAUR OR TRUCKS!

6:45 - Does everyone have their shoes on? Lainie, where are your shoes? Jackson those are on the wrong feet. Ok I will help you, let me finish throwing my hair up into a messy ass bun and I'll help you. Yes, Mommy has to get dressed too, I cannot go to work in my bathrobe.

7:00 - OK guys, time to go! Wait, why do you still not have shoes on? Where is your jacket? I told you to put it in the closet! Where's your backpack? Do you have your homework? What about lunchmoney? Shit, has anyone seen MY shoes?!

7:10 - And we're off. Shit I need gas. I always need gas. Rushhour traffic, fight the freeway, change the radio station, kids fight over which song to listen to, Lainie looks half asleep still.

7:30 - At the daycare, hustle the kids to class, force them to hug me goodbye, run back to the car.

8:00 - Work time.

5:00 pm - Time to go, so many things didn't get done, not enough time in the day. Hop in the car, race to the daycare, fight rushhour, avoid the freeway.

5:40 pm - Hi kids, how was your day? Jack put your coat on. Lainie where's your backpack? What'd you eat for lunch? Do you have homework? No we're not ordering pizza for dinner. Why are you crying? Oh my God, just get in the car.

6:00 pm - Finally home. Lainie start your homework, Jackson, no movies until after dinner. Who wants to help me cook?

7:00 - Sit down to eat, Jackson eat your food. Lainie I know you don't like spinach but its good for you. Jackson, eat your food! No, no more milk until you eat. Sorry we're out of juice. If you don't finish dinner you don't get popcorn with your movie. No you cannot just have a Lunchable. Lainie, come on, eat your spinach. I'll give you a dollar if you eat your damn spinach.

7:30 - 8:30 - Playtime.

8:30 - Bathtime, storytime, brush your teeth and get in your jammies.

9:00 - Finally, the kids are in bed.

9 - 10:30 - Me time. Grey's Anatomy, write a blog post, do some laundry, clean the kitchen, episode of Parenthood, cry like a baby because Parenthood is ruining my emotions, check my email, be incredibly witty on social media, then time for bed.

10:30 pm - If I'm lucky, pass the fuck out.

There you have it.

A day in the life.

This is not including things like sick kids, fighting kids, trips to the grocery store, nights when there are errands or mornings where we wake up late.

This is a day where everything, for the most part, goes as well as we could've hoped.

This is how, this is how, this is how we sleep.

{bonus points if you sang the title of this post to the tune of 'this is why I'm hot'}

Sleeping in this house must be either hilarious, or super weird to people who don't know us, or parents who had their babes in their beautiful nurseries and thousand dollar cribs from the day they were born. As many of you know, I'm a co-sleeper. My kids slept in my bed with me from the time they were babies, and Jackson still hasn't given it up.

Often times Lainie comes in to sleep with us too, and since I moved Jackson's bed into my room between my bed and the wall, there's plenty of room, so why not.

Plus her and I read after Jackson falls asleep, and I just love glancing over at her in between chapters, us looking at each other over the tops of our respective books and sharing a late night readers smile.

It's a sweet moment.

Co-Sleeping is not all cuddles and books and giggles in the dark though.

Some of it is downright unglamorous, and if you don't do a sweep of the bed for small trucks and Lego pieces before hopping in, it can get pretty ugly.

Co-Sleeping is probably more accurately described as a hot tangled mess of knees, elbows, and heavy, solid as a rock toddler heads that they throw around the pillow space like confetti.

Have you ever taken a four year old cranium to the nose at 2 in the morning? 

The other night while the kids were sleeping amid a pile of twisted sheets and blankets and cuddlies and stuffed animals and God knows what else, I snapped a few shots with my camera because I was practicing using it in Manual.

The next day, the bed was made and the room was clean and I couldn't get over the stark contrast of everything when there weren't three people crammed together, snoring away.

This is the bed in the daylight hours when it's made and the room is clean and no kids have set foot near it yet:

Yes, that is a pile of kid laundry on Jackson's bed. That's not the point. Observe the calm serenity of my bed, with it's organized pillows and smooth comforter, everything clean and inviting you to lie down.

And now, this is the bed with the two of them in it:

That big lump in Jackson's bed is actually Lainie, covered up to the top of her head in his blanket. Jackson is next to her on my bed, and that space beside him is where I'm supposed to sleep.

Right next to his big, 100 pound melon that will no doubt come flying back into my face, somewhere around 3 in the morning.

Notice the third pillow kicked down by the foot of the bed, the bright blue bathrobe that Jackson likes to hold at night because it's soft, and the general disarray of the bedding.

I guarantee you there are at least 4 Hot Wheels cars somewhere under that fluffy white blanket.

This is the life we choose, the life we lead.

This is how we sleep.

Things I Have to Remember Not to Forget

The way Jackson's face looks when he first wakes up in the morning, and he is in such a happy, sweet mood.

+

How good it feels to come home at the end of a full work day, and put my pajamas on.

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Being held. Especially when you need to be held really badly.

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The very first sip of the very first cup of coffee on Monday morning.

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Chocolate, in all it's forms.

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Hugs from Lainie.

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The sound of my kids sleeping. The hush of their breathing that sounds just like waves kissing the shore in the middle of the night.

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Turning the heat on for the first time in the Fall.

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Slow dancing with a man that loved me. The heavy warmth of his hand on the small of my back, the smell of his shirt, swaying in the music, even if it was only the music in our hearts.

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Falling in love. Because even if it ends in heartbreak, the falling feels so good. The addiction, the passion, the reckless abandon and utter adoration. The sweet secure feeling that hangs warm and heavy from the bottom of your heart, so that even when you're alone, you feel safe. You're being taken care of, thought about, loved.

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Goodbye, and how much it hurts. Maybe if I could remember how goodbye feels, I wouldn't take now for granted so easily.

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Sleep.

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Kisses.

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Hot showers.

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Now. I'm alive, I'm here, I have two little kids who are still little, a job that's still interesting, and a heart that's still beating.

One day, I won't. All this breathing and eating and laughing and hurting and loving will be over, and I will want a little bit of now to remember, savor, and hold onto when the dark comes down.



Lainie's Happy Birthday: #9

 Some serious girl talk going on here!!!

Dear Lainie,

Yesterday you turned 9. Wow. Nine years ago yesterday, at a little after 5 in the morning, you came into the world. And what an impact you had, little girl.

You changed the lives of everyone around you.

For the better, I promise.

And now here you are: a funny, sometimes goofy, always brilliant, sweet little girl who tries so hard to take care of everyone around her. You'd make a great doctor or nurse someday.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by all the things I want to teach you, all the things I want to make sure you know, that sometimes when you ask me a question I think "Oh my God, I haven't taught you that yet?! I'm behind! I'm running out of time!" There is simply, I think, too much to know.

And I know you can't learn it all from me, but some things I want to make sure you do.

So here are a few rules that you absolutely must live by. It is no way a complete list, and I'm sure by your next birthday there will be more, but it's a start.

1. A boy who is nice to you but rude to the waiter, is not a nice boy.

2. You can use black beans in almost every recipe. Always keep them in the house.

3. You may never get every part of a meal done at the same time. Stop stressing about that.

4. Don't ever share mascara, eye liner or underwear with your friends.

5. A date should get out of the car and ring the doorbell. Not text you from the car, or God forbid honk the horn when he arrives. You're a lady, not a to-go waitress at Chili's.

6. Be sweet to your brother, and he'll be the boy who's always there when some other boy breaks your heart.

7. When you're really really mad at someone, write them an email. Write it all down, read it once, take a deep breath, and then delete it. Written words never go away. Don't let your momentary hate and anger live forever in writing.

8. Just because you mean it, and just because you may be right, doesn't mean you should say it.

9. Whenever you put on a dress, bend over in front of the mirror. If it's questionable, wear leggings.

10. You have to live with your choices at the end of the day. You won't feel any better about being mean and hurtful to someone just because they deserved it.

11. If it feels wrong, it's wrong, regardless of what anyone else tries to tell you. Listen to your first initial reaction to something, not all the ways your tempted mind may try to talk you in or out of it afterward.

12. You're going to be a different person about 125 times between now and the person you end up being for the rest of your life. Remember that when choosing tattoos, life partners and credit cards with interest rates higher than 0.

13. You can get away with not showering for a day or two, or even wearing the same outfit twice without re-washing it, but you cannot, CANNOT get away with skipping deodorant and teeth brushing.

14. You can run on empty on Friday, so feel free to stay up late watching movies and eating junk food Thursday night, because you only have one more day to get through before the weekend.

15. It really is the little things in life.

16. Make it an adventure, and it will never be boring.

17. Specialize obsessively, have lots of favorite things, fall in love with stuff that no one else cares about. Just have passion. It doesn't always matter what for.

18. Change your mind, change your hair, change your clothes, go by a different name in high school, move around a lot after college. Change is good.

19. Be nice to the broken and damaged people. The ones who deserve love the least are the ones who need it the most.

20. Your mother loves you the most, remember that.

Happy 9th birthday, little one. I am SO glad you were born.

The Friday Diary: For Lainie

Oh, Hello Friday. I've missed you.

This week I am even more glad than usual for it to be Friday. Partially because I have the day off {holler}, but mostly because this Sunday is Lainie's birthday, and today being Friday means that I can stop thinking about work, and go to my happy place of planning her birthday.

I love birthdays, y'all.

I love making people feel special, and the idea that everyone gets one day out of the year that's just for them. A day where the people who love them show up and say "I'm glad you were born".

That might seem like a small or silly thing to tell a person, but if you've ever felt not to glad to be born, or been told that maybe you shouldn't have been born by someone important, you know just what a big deal it is to hear those words.

So, in short, I guess the Friday Diary won't be a huge deal this week. I need to go plan a good day for my little girl, who always tries so hard to make the people she loves happy.

Have an awesome weekend.