Parker and His Mini Me

Okay, I guess they do look alike after all. I have been thinkin' that Gus looks more like my dad than anyone, but this pretty much clinches it. Gus looks like his daddy.

Surviving a haircut, 101

I think I have to admit it. My children are growing up right before my eyes. I took Millie and Holden to get their first ( professional) haircuts on Wednesday. I have been battling the idea of giving up control to another person for quite some time now. I have been weilding scissors over Holden's hair for 4 years now. There's something about the creative control that I MUST own. Alas, I gave in and made an appointment with a children's salon here in town. I was one of those ANNOYING parents, ( I never thought I'd be) watching like a hawk over this poor woman's shoulder. Carol ( stylist) was very patient with me... and my flashing camera.( I ended up taking over 200 pictures... obsess much?Jeesh) Millie ended up getting about 6" taken off. It's a little shorter than I'd like it to be, but it's for the best. Her hair was so broken and split at the ends. Both kids were hesitant about getting their hair cut. Holden said, " Mom, you're not going to sob are you?" ( remember back in december when I lobbed off his locks for Parker's Christmas gift?") Millie flashed a major sad face, and tears welled up in her eyes. She said very quietly, " Mama, I don't wanna get a haircut." ( while she choked back the tears... big lip sticking out) I said, " welp Peanut, your hair isn't going to grow much longer if we don't trim off the end a little bit.It'll be fun, you'll see."( as I tried to keep the tears from welling up in my eyes.) She agreed, and sat very still. It's funny how much thicker her hair looks and feels now. Holden was unphased by the haircut. He did however like sitting in the cool chair. Sometimes I think I'm a big weirdo. I am a complete control freak about how my children's hair looks and their person al style... but when I go to the salon to get my hair cut, I say , " Have at it. I trust you." I always leave looking temporarily cool. ( After I wash it.. I always go right back to " Mom hair.") I have had every color under the rainbow.( including silver and bronze) I have shaved my head pretty much bald. I have had extensions to my butt. I have permed, straightened, and attempted dreads. Maybe one day my kids will experiment with their looks. I'm down with that. Watch~ They'll keep their hair trimmed and neat... and properly highlighted. That would be my luck. :)

too perfect

We found the most perfect t-shirt for our Wee Angus. I'm sure Angus Young would be proud. I knew "Tiny" would be born a natural rocker.

Mornings at our house

For those of you who know us well, you know this very simple fact: WE ARE NOT MORNING PEOPLE. When Scarlett became part of Parker and my life, I remember saying ," hey, a puppy will help us get up and go in the mornings!" 2 months later, I find Parker and Scarlett the puppy all snuggled up still in bed @ 2 pm... after I returned from Core, and that dumb "mirrors used in fine art in history." class I was forced to take. ( dumb academic credits) I digress. After 2 months of dog ownership we had trained our puppy not to be a morning person either. Jump ahead 5 years. Millie and Holden are born. We are thrown into the baby machine. Change, feed,burp, sleep, play, cry,sleep,feed,cry,sleep,change,feed,..... repeat. ( 20 times a day... not necessarily in that order.. but remember to multiply that by 2. )By the time Millie and HIP were 10 months old, they were sleeping until 11 am. I was told by a person who shall remain nameless, " Oh my God, wake those kids up and get on with your day." Um, NO. Waking up babies is against my religion. I do not wake up babies. I certainly do not wake up twins if I don't have to. Millie and Holden did not wake up before 10 am ( unless forced to ) until they started going to school. Jump to today. Today was like most days. Gus giggles and wiggles in his bassinet @ about 6 am. ( he typically sleeps from 9pm-6am.) I peer over with one eye open . He catches my gaze and smiles a toothless smile. I pick him up and smell his divine baby smell, and squeeze him tight. I walk him to the bathroom and lay him in his happy place( the counter on a pillow wrapped in fleece. )He loves this place so much. I think it's because the mirror allows him to check out his rad baby self while I wipe him and change his stinkers. He typically grabs his peep, and I panic because I haven't cut his fingernails in awhile. Gus winds up into a massive crying fit. I change the diaper in 10 seconds flat and pick him up, wherein he stops crying immediately. I walk over to my side of the bed, lay him on a cloth diaper. Gus wails because I can't whip my boob out fast enough. Parker moans and rolls over. I pop the booby in the crying baby mouth and the child suckles for an HOUR. I love every second of it. 7 am: After popping all of my pills and brushing the teeth. I roll downstairs to pack to lunches. I make 1 pb&j. cut in half. Cut up an orange pepper, place in baggies. Wash and cut up some sort of fruit. fish throught the drawer of granola bars for bags of cookies. Get overpriced, organic chocolate and strawberry milks out of fridge. I try to draw something of interest on a small love note for each lunch box. I rememer the days where I used to draw small masterpieces for my kids' lunchboxes, so they knew I loved them more than the world, and I wasn't forcing them into school because I didn't want them around, I just knew they were ready. Back to today. I write I heart you Holden, and I heart you Millie a with a simple drawing in marker and slap each note in the lunches.. knowing that I could still draw if I wanted to.. but I just don't have the time anymore. I place the lunchboxes at the back door. Stop off at the computer to check the weather.. so I don't dress the peeps inappropriately for the day. I mosey back upstairs, kiss each 4 1/2 year old child on the head and say " 2 minutes." I pick out outfits, unders, and socks. I say , " okay up and at'em." I hear a wraspy voice whipser from under the covers, " where are we going?" I say " school." I hear, " I'm not going to school." I say.. uh yes you are.. you love school." I hear a very clear, " NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL." I think to myself, UG. I hear, " Holden first." Then I hear another different wraspy voice from under the other set of covers, " Millie." Then it's back and forth. " holden, " Millie, " holden..." and I finally say, " Let's get dressed at the same time. " I hear , "NO." ( simultaneously) In walks groggy Parker with fussy Gus. I take fussing baby. He cheers up. Kids sit in beds, hair every direction, sweaty. I say, " please get dressed. " they say , " no." I say.. " okay I'm getting a little annoyed." they say " we're not going to school." I say, " I gotta go get your breakfasts ready. ( time check: 8:30) I freak out. " Get dressed and come downstairs." ( in my mommy voice. I have forgotten how to be nice. I didn't yell.. I just said it while clentching my teeth. Baby is crying. Kids are WAILING, " NO MOMMY!!! HELP USSSSSSSSSSS!" I say , " nope. get dressed." Millie literally jumps into her clothes, picks out shoes and flies down the steps. Holden sits in bed screaming. I calmly walk to the steps and say. " GET OUT OF BED. PICK UP YOUR CLOTHES AND SHOES. WALK TO THE STAIRS. WALK DOWN THE STEPS. I AM DONE WITH THIS NONSENSE." Holden walks downstairs. Sits at the table. Eats his cereal. Baby is now crying. I nurse baby while kids eat. Baby falls asleep. I take him to up his crib. Just as I am leaving the room, Millie and Holden come upstairs and scream something about how Millie looked at Holden and he didn't like it. Millie stomps her foot and spits. Baby wakes up crying. Holden cries. I'm on the verge of crying. Husband is in Shower. Time check: 8:55. I sigh. They should be in the car. I take fussy baby downstairs. Parker is making scrambled eggs. Mutters something about me not having time to make him breakfast. I raise my eyebrows higher than my hairline and tell myself not to dump scrambled eggs on his head. I put holden's shoes on while I hold the fussy overtired baby, and listen to how " Superkitty and Danny Phantom are going to save us from the bad guys,"( in one ear) and How " Alexa has a cool pair of brown flip flops."( in the other ear) Parker says , " Call sears. The dishwasher is broken." Grrr. Fine. Fine.. no big deal. I kiss my children. Holden says, " Mom, you know I love you." I said, You know I love YOU too pal. He smiles and walks to the door. Millie hugs me and kisses me. I know they will have a good day. I walk back upstairs and nurse the babe . He falls asleep in the calm. I call Sears. As I wait on hold for 30 minutes, a crazy robin pecks on the office window. Just as the operator picks up, the baby wakes up crying. Good timing. I sigh and go back upstairs and try to talk and take care of fussy babe at the same time. Today was pretty much like any other day ( minus the broken dishwasher.) I'm thinking about joining the circus. ( one without animals ;) )I think I'm pretty qualified.

and the worst mother of the year award goes to....

The worst mother of the year award goes right to : Me. After a week of HIP telling me " Mom, for mother's day, we're giving you and Gus a bathing suit." I did actually have a visual of me wearing Gus in one of the cups of my bikini top. A bathing suit where you can actually tuck the baby in with you is not a half bad idea, really. I'm sure an attachment parent somewhere will invent it one of these days. Back to the point. HIP started talking about this mother's day gift on Tuesday. This morning, there was a lot of whispering about mother's day surprises and the like. As Parker was getting ready for the day, HIP was jumping in and out of our bath tub.. I stated, " Please do NOT buy me a bathing suit Parker, I like to try them on, and these things ( pointing to my boobs) are a little different than they used to be." Parker's face melted with sadness. He said " Ame, when I asked the kids what we should get you for Mother's day, Holden said ' a bathing suit for Mommy and Gus!!' and he hasn't stopped talking about it since. He's so excited." After I realized the magnitude of the statement I had made, I corrected myself by saying, " Please get me a black bathing suit, okay?" I hope I didn't crush poor little HIP. Bad mommy. Bad, bad, mommy.

his happy place

Here we are. This people, is where Gus is happy. It seems that if Gus is put in any other place, he cries. Gus can sleep in this pouch for hours upon end. The minute I put him down he wakes up screaming. Gus sleeps in the carrier through: folding laundry, doing dishes, playtime with Millie and Holden, when Millie and Holden argue ( which seems to be more and more these days) and the rest of what makes our life absolutely crazy. Gus seems to like chaos. HAHA! In my attempts to become more organized... I have become completely overwhelmed with amount of crap we have in our home and it's level of disorganization. I go to friends' houses and leave feeling so blue and overwhelmed because I know that I have to return to the state of affairs I call my home. It seems that the more I try, the worse it gets. I find myself arguing with myself ( and my inner voices) over which pile of crap gets precedence over the other. I feel like I'm spreading myself too thin with the crap piles ( some literally ( thanks to Ruby Jones) ) the laundry piles, the toy piles, mail piles, and the piles and lists of things that need to be done floating around in my head. Add in the two 4 year olds who deserve time with their mom other than following her around cleaning up while she's complaining that other people have clean homes.. why can't she? I know things could be way worse. Once, just once I'd like to come into my house and not sigh, because eventhough I spent the greater part of the day working hard to get things put away/ washed/folded/ organized, it doesn't look like I've done a thing in weeks. How do "those people" do it? How do they keep things so orderly? I know that being a mom is supposed to be challenging... but how come I can't seem to put this stuff on hold for a little while and appreciate how good things really are, instead of laboring over the things I find that are bad?

3 Months

Okay so I'm being brave and putting a picture of my lil' Gus on the ol' blog. At 3 months of age Gus seems to developing into quite a little man. He talks and mimics our sounds. He has an infectious belly laugh. He's sleeping through the night. He loves Millie and Holden. He thinks it's funny when Ruby Jones licks his face. He has discovered his hands, and has held on to a toy for a few minutes. In my attempts to keep things simple for him, he doesn't get a lot of outright stimulation.. so when he hears the TV he becomes quite pensive. He is still very attached to his mama, but will tolerate other people holding him for a few minutes here and there. My back is getting quite strong. He weighs in at 13lbs 1 oz. ( as much as Millicent Susan weighed @ 13 months old) My experience with Gus is so different than my experiences with Millie and Holden when they were babies. What a treat, to see how different everyone can be. When people comment on how much Gus looks like his daddy, I agree, but at times I see MY dad in his face. I get lost in Gus a lot. When I should be folding stupid laundry, or clearing the table. I'll look down at my sleeping babe and realize I've been just looking at him for a half an hour. Like my other 2 rock stars, Gus is a very cool little kid. I'm glad he's here.

oy

I know it's been awhile. It's just that there has been so much going on, I just can't keep up anymore. I had to slack off on something. Well, the blog was the first thing to go. One reason is: the blog freaked me out a little. I knew in the beginning of my blog that strangers were reading my very personal life stories. They were reading about my hopes and dreams and gathering opinions about me and my family. Strangers. That was the part that skeeved me out. Strangers were looking at pictures of my pregnant belly. Strangers were looking at my children. When my PPD kicked in full force, I would sit up at night thinking, " Strangers are looking at my infant." I know the point of blogging is to keep an online journal that anyone can access. Okay fine. Lot's of people do it. LOTS AND LOTS of people do it. When your hormones kick in full force.. and panic suffocates every move you make.. the idea of LOTS and LOTS of people reading personal stuff makes you go a little berzerk. I also know that when I write, it puts my feelings out there, so if anyone wants to help, they can offer opinions, suggestions, and whatever they like. I pretty much have 4 people who comment on my blog. Sometimes I hardly get a comment.. which makes the time spent a the computer a little pointless, I guess. I'm not educating anyone. I'm not pondering poilitics, finances, style, education, religion, medicine, or anything of importance to anyone. I'm just jotting down things that happen here in my own little world. I wasn't sure if anyone wanted to read about my nightly multiple panic attacks. My ability to cry for no reason. My frustration with my two 4 year olds who seemilngly have it out for me. My babe who only wants to be held.. eventhough I have 1 zillion things to do that would make the baby uncomfortable and cry. Life is definitely looking up. The weird thing is : it never looked down per se. It just looked complicated. It is still very complicated, but this is what I wanted. SO I am plugging along in my vortex of disorganization and frustration.. all the while juggling my infant and 2 cranky 4 year olds. I will get through it.. and with a smile on my face dammit, because I am lucky. I have everything I want and more. Now I just have to figure out what to do with it all. :)