Mother's Day Wishes

Here it is again...Mother's Day.


The day we force our husbands into the kitchen to prepare a meal worth a year's wait. Though the thought is sweet, inwardly we cringe as our well-intentioned mates coat the counter-tops and fill the sink with dishes. 
My mom is amazing and deserves to be spoiled rotten on Mother's Day. Along with a thoughtful gift, she is treated to a  feast. The spread my Dad lays out on Mother's Day always makes me grin. Along with a plethora of side dishes he typically conjures up 3 different meat dishes....every woman's dream! It's no surprise that my husband always thinks it's a good idea to visit my parents over Mother's Day. Unfortunately for hubby, this year we are staying in Providence so he'll have to make his own meat platter!


In addition to not making dinner and sleeping in as long as my nursing body will allow, I'm hoping for a thoughtful gift or two. Here are some Mother's Day gifts I would love to receive:


1. A promise of health for my boys throughout their lives.


2. Peace-so my boys need not fear and can be spared the instability and tragedy of war.


3. True Love in my children's future and the ability to accept whomever their soul-mate may be.


4. Productive and intelligent boys; may it be in school, work, a charity, or in their own homes. 

5. A knowledge that my boys will neither bully nor be bullied, and will befriend those in need. 


6. A lifetime of friendship with my children, even when they are teens and could hate me for "ruining their lives."


7. The ability to make my kids love themselves as much as I love them. 


8. An assurance that my kids will always have food in their bellies, clothes on their bodies, and a roof over their heads. 


9. Faithful boys who know there is a higher power at work in all things, and that they are His hands on this earth. 


10. And lastly, for myself, I'd like to receive faith, strength, patience, and love, in order to keep on truckin' along this scenic yet bumpy road of parenthood.


P.S. Honey, if you can't find any of these items at Wal-Mart, a box of chocolates will suffice. :)


Reader, what "gifts" would you add to this list?

Strolling

What do you call your first cousin's son? Second cousin? Cousin once-removed?  Who knows....


We call Adin plain old "cousin" and it is working just great. Today Adin got to come over and play with Dawson and Desmond while Sam and Brandon hit up a movie. We had a fabulous time strolling over to Macey's for some frozen yogurt (the flavor of the day was Apricot Mango and it was DELISH).

Dawson is getting so independent, he got to walk the entire way while the babies rode in the double stroller. On our journey home Dawson met a bus driver and saw inside a school bus! I'm sure he won't find this as exciting in 10 years. We were also blessed to see a  backhoe loader, a garbage truck, a pile of ants, a stick/sword, and a very scary butterfly.

Check out those scuffed-up knees...100% boy.

A walk to Macey's isn't complete without a brief stop at the park. The babies loved swinging while Dawson made "houses" in the wood chips. FYI: I'm a budding expert at sliver removal (thanks for including that in my upbringing, Dad.)

Adin doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve. He was having a great time!

My endlessly sunny Desmond.

 What a wonderfully quaint life. :)

And then there were four

Desmond: My baby boy will be 9 months next week! I can't believe it. He is quickly becoming a mini-tornado. He crawls around our house like its nobody's business, pulls himself up everywhere, and bravely attempts to ascend the stairs. Desmond's curiosity is adorable to everyone but Dawson ("He's getting my tractor!!!") 
Desmond has an angelic demeanor. He smiles without prodding and only cries when his big brother treats him like a rugby player. 

Poor baby got a rug-burn on his nose, but he's still all smiles!

Dawson: My big boy turned 3 in April. His chubby cheeks, baby-blues, and bouncy blonde hair make me attack him with constant kisses. Dawson is 110% boy. Our days are full of cars, trucks, tractors, airplanes, dirt, farts (NOT MINE!), and dinosaurs.  He is a sponge with an insatiable curiosity about how things work. It's a good thing I excelled in geology so I could explain how that heap of dinosaur poop turned into a rock!

Out for our daily cruise around the neighborhood.

Me: My days are spent corralling the aforementioned individuals. Being a SAHM is tough! Do I love it? H-E-double hockey sticks, YES.  But the old saying about motherhood is true: The days are long, and the years are short. I spend the day checking the clock, too often counting down the hours until bedtime. Then I wake up and my little baby is wearing a size 3T and I'm left wondering where the time goes. 

Putt-Putt! 

Jeffrey: When he's not at work, my handsome hubby can be found snuggled up on the couch watching addicting TV shows (Vampire Diaries, anyone?) with his lovely wife, playing monsters with our little cherubs, or on occasion, hitting up some mountain bike trails.  I love this guy to death (and beyond!) and feel extremely lucky that 7 years ago God saw fit to put us in SPCH 2110 together ("Interpersonal Communication" now you know where we got our exemplary communication skills)! 

C'mon, Des! It's just a little brotherly love!

In summary: These three fellows bless my life beyond measure!

Back in the Saddle

Has it really been 3 years since I last updated this blog? Yikes!   


Luckily, I've been inspired by a number of friends to dive back in, so here I am! 

(waiting for applause to end....)

My new goal is to keep my blog updated enough that at the end of the year I can have it printed and count it not only as my journal but as my photo album. Because let's face it, the whole process of taking pictures, uploading and having them printed, then annotating them and arranging the whole mess in an album is extremely demotivating. In fact, I have a confession: I have not ordered prints for a year. That's right, according to my photo album, adorable Desmond does not exist! 


That will not fly. 


So here I am, excited and ready for my second chance in the blogosphere. 

A Letter to Dawson

My sweet Dawson,


Hello my darling son. I am at work right now thinking about how much I miss you and how wonderful my life is with you and your daddy in it. At this moment you are 8 months, 4 days, and (approximately) 6 ½ hours old. I am biased, but I think you are a remarkable creature. How can one so small know so much and get into so much trouble?


People always say that kids are the funnest when they are around 2 years old because they start to show their personality. You must be precocious, and I must be lucky, because you have already shown me so many character traits. You are a wild boy. There is no arguing this. Today you broke Grandma Cindy's Christmas decoration by banging it unflinchingly on the counter-top, but you are also tender. I know you can sense people's feelings and it makes you sad when there is tension. You have also shown that you are smart. You understand that what you see in a mirror is a reflection. When Daddy hides his cell phone you aren't tricked, and you know how to make a basket on the little hoop Grandma and Grandpa Heiner got you for Christmas.


You are also contemplative. When a new person enters your life you just stare at them. You warm up faster towards women and tend to gawk longer at men. Something you are struggling with right now is eating baby food. You still love your bottle, but have decided you hate the pureed fruits and vegetables Gerber dares to call food. I think you are just too advanced. This afternoon I had a ham sandwich for lunch. I was holding you on my hip while I ate it and the first bite I took, you leaned in at the same time and took a big bite out of the side of my bun. This isn't shocking to me since you only like to eat “normal” food. You also prefer drinking water from a glass instead of a plastic cup. When you see someone drinking from a glass you immediately begin waving your arms wildly out to the side (your Aunt Sami affectionately calls it your “octopus arms”). There is nothing as cute and irresistible as your octopus arms and grunting noises. Naturally, you get whatever you want. We always procure a drink and smile at the sound of your tiny teeth clinking on the glass and water spilling from the corners of your mouth.


You say “baba,” “dada,” and “mama.” I don't believe you are correlating your babble with objects yet, but every time you say, “mama” my heart skips a beat and all I want to do is hold you, mesmerized that you are mine. I am a selfish woman and I adore when you prefer me over anyone else.


When you are sleepy or get hurt you want your mommy, and I want you, too. I envelop you in the rocking chair, cuddle your cherubic face against my chest, and sing primary songs until your pink eyelids begin to droop and your breathing turns heavy. I relish that moment knowing you love me as much as I love you. I know the years will pass and you'll be bigger than me, and I won't get to cuddle you as you slumber (even though I'll want to). So, I will savor every moment I get with you as my little sweetheart, and forever cherish each step of this wondrous journey together. I love you, Dawson.


Love,
Mommy

50 Things that Trump a Shower

Folks, I am alive.

I just wanted to clear that up since I haven't updated my blog since Pre-Baby Life.

Its interesting how I can now split my life into three sections. Pre-Marriage, Pre-baby, and Motherhood. This third phase could also be called "The Dirty House Era" or "Never Done Hair Phase." Unfortunately, neither of those sounds as melodic and appealing as "Motherhood." Plus, this phase is unending. It will be overlapped with "Grandmotherhood" and hopefully "Great-grandmotherhood," but "Motherhood" is here to stay. With that in mind, it would be a shame to title it the "Never Done Hair Phase." Some miracle may occur in the future where I get enough personal time to primp, and then the title would be irrelevant!

As much as I hate not knowing if my hair will be done by nightfall, I was prepared for that probability before baby came. Some experiences are so constantly talked about by mothers that it was ingrained in me that both me and my house would be a wreck, I would change lots of diapers, and I would wake up all night long. I like to look and smell nice, but there are things that eclipse my hygiene desires. Here are a few:

1: Smelling my clean, lotioned baby.
2: Bathing with baby before bedtime.
3: Playing peek-a-boo
4: Walking with baby around the neighborhood in the evening
5: Watching hip-hop music videos to soothe baby.
6: Taking 30 mins to change a diaper because I'm having too much fun making goo-goo sounds and making baby smile.
7: Rocking for hours while baby sleeps.
8: Laying with baby next to me kicking me in his sleep.
9: Having tummy time and practicing rolling over.
10: Reading animal books with baby
11: Cuddling with my husband while he feeds the baby
12: Cuddling with my husband after baby is in bed.
13: Pulling inch long boogers out of baby's nose (weird, I know, but its strangely rewarding.)
14: Waking up with baby watching me sleep.
15: Getting a big burp out of baby without even trying.
16: Kissing baby's tummy over and over.
17: Tickling his head while he drifts to sleep.
18: Singing primary songs to soothe him.
19: Hearing huge baby farts that are bigger than a grown man's.
20: Remembering and reciting nursery rhymes I knew as a child.
21: Talking about poop color and consistencies with other moms.
22: Finding out the weight and height of my baby.
23: Dressing baby in cheesy, yet adorably, baby clothes.
24: Dressing baby in miniature-man clothes (jeans, button up shirts, polos, etc.)
25: Watching baby play with his tongue.
26: Watching baby suck on his hands.
27: Playing with my baby's "finger-toes".
28: Listening to baby's heart beat.
29: Having a conversation with baby ("how was your night, Dawson?" "goo ga" "Oh really?" "oooo ooo aaah")
30: Wrapping baby up in a hooded towel and cuddling him after a bath.
31: Watching him play under a play gym and swing at toys above him.
32: Feeding him a warm bottle and dozing off in the rocking chair.
33: Being tickled by baby on my hands and arms while I feed him.
34: Watching baby kick his legs everywhere while he tries to fart/poop.
35: Having my cheek and shoulders sucked on when baby isn't getting a bottle fast enough.
36: Watching all my family love baby.
37: Eating a bowl of cereal while baby entertains himself with toys.
38: Watching baby smile in his sleep.
39: Seeing baby's first smile
40: Hearing baby's first giggles.
41: Bouncing baby on my knee for hours while watching TV
42: Talking "baby stuff" with my mom, sister, mother-in-law, husband, and friends.
43: Letting baby pick which diaper he wants (Do you want Elmo? {no smile} How about Zoe? {no smile} Big Bird? {smile} Big Bird it is!)
44: Helping baby feel textures of objects.
45: Showing baby the "other baby" in the mirror.
46: Taking baby on walks with my husband
47: Sitting next to the carseat on long drives.
48: Calming down baby when no one else can.
49: Sitting outside on a blanket with baby and toys.
50: Rocking my baby to sleep everynight knowing I get to do it all again in the morning.

On the Job Training

I have worked at this hotel for 3 years now and feel like I have learned a lot of important lessons. Since not everyone has the joy of working in the hospitality industry I thought I should pass on the vital knowledge I have attained.

1) Native Americans don't use credit cards.
2) Old people who can't open a hotel door with a key card should be removed from society.
3) Old people who can't turn the lamps on in their room should be removed from society.
4) Old people who request an extra pillow for every joint in their body need to stay away from me, for I WILL NOT enable their dependence. (Bring your own collection of pillows if you're that far gone!)
5) Everyone gets wasted the night before big bike races (LOTOJA, MS-150, etc.) I can't say I'd enjoy being hungover riding the hundreds of miles from Logan to Jackson, but whatever floats your boat!
6) Some businessmen are lonely enough they'll hit on even the largest of pregnant women. Unfortunately, some of us pregnant women are still gettin' some and don't need their pathetic company. Tough luck fellas.
7) Truckers make the best customers. After sleeping at truck stops anything seems luxurious. Check them in, and they never reappear.
8) Indian men are not afraid to call the front desk and ask for a romp in the hay.
9) 1 pool towel is never enough. One must use three: Hair, torso, and legs. Fat people tend to double those numbers.
10) Rich soccer/dance moms raise hell about EVERYTHING. "Its cold outside. I want to speak to a manager. My spoiled-little-brat wanted hot weather!"
11) Ice machines are harder to use than any computer.
12) NO PETS ALLOWED = "Please bring your filthy mutt and hide him in the room. Also feel free to take him in the pool with you! The health department doesn't mind one bit."
13) NO SMOKING = "We would love you to smoke in this non-smoking room, just prop that door open. Maybe you could spit some tobacco on the carpet while you're at it?"
14) No, you don't get a discount for only staying in the room for 1 hour. Do you really think the room is uncontaminated after a quickie with your mistress? (Yes, I know what you are up to...)
15) It is always appropriate to throw keys at the hotel employee when you are angry. It solves all of your problems.
16) The customer is almost always wrong (I would say 99% of the time). For example: "The drawers on the TV stand are locked! They won't open! FIX IT!" "Sir, they are FAKE drawers. CHILL OUT. And no, you don't get a discount."