Angry Birds

On October 5th, while I may or may not have been G-chatting with Matt during some downtime at work, I received this message (which was not on topic, I might add):

"Oh and I decided I'm making the boys' costumes. There's no arguing about it. I know I don't have time but I've already made up my mind so save your bitching.

http://twindragonflydesigns.blogspot.com/2011/09/angry-birds-family-costume-tutorial.html

Deal with it."

I proceeded to burst out with a laugh. I found this amusing for so many reasons, first being, that he knows me so well. I would have told him he didn't have time. I probably would have tried to convince him not to do it. Second, picturing the boys as Angry Birds characters was pretty darn funny. And fitting.
Well, he did it. Matt borrowed his mother's 1984 sewing machine, downloaded the instruction manual and single-handedly measured, cut, sewed, stuffed and hot glue-gunned the 2 costumes together. Just in time for the big day.
And, no, I know what you're thinking, I did not get these skeleton shirts because I thought Matt might fail. Curtis' was a hand-me-down, and Brock's was too awesome and cheap of a Gap sweatshirt for me to resist. And they both glow in the dark. What else were the boys supposed to wear all day at daycare on Halloween!?
Anyway, Curtis wasn't so thrilled with the costume. And Brock was just excited to go Trick-or-Treating. Getting a photo of the 2 of them was near impossible. You would have thought Brock had already eaten an entire bag of candy he was so hyper prior to setting out to walk the neighborhood. All in all, a great night. I went about 2 blocks with the boys before I had to head into work for the night shift. But it was enough for me to witness the happiness this holiday brings to my boys, all 3 of them.

Hair cuts!

Curtis got his first formal hair cut. I don't know if his hair grows faster, there's more of it, is thinner, has less texture or if my tolerance for ugly, home-cut hair has decreased since Brock, but this is way sooner than Brock's first hair cut. He was more like 14 months, Curtis is only 11.

Anyway, this experience, was yet another event that demonstrates the difference in demeanor between these 2 boys. With Brock, I basically had him in a strong hold the ENTIRE hair cut. It was torturous for both baby and mama. Curtis? Happily sat in the chair. ALONE. Maybe tried to turn around to see what was going on every so often, but other then that, perfectly content in his little car. I mean, Curtis is still a curious little guy, just not as, umm, persistent as Brock. I had to hold him while they used the clippers around the ears...more for safety reasons than anything else.

In fact, come to think of it, I still gave way more attention to Brock, who was simultaneously get his hairs did. I had to watch, coax, calm and bribe Brock to sit still nearly the entire time. He is now nearly 3 years old! At least the two of them balance one another out.
And I have to be honest, I am hoping #3 swings a little bit on the Curtis side of life. You can never have too many happy, content, loving babies. Right?

The Must Haves.

My next (and final) house MUST have:

1. A driveway that can functionally park 4 cars. At least.
2. Master Suite including: a.)Bathroom with Jacuzzi, large walk-in shower, double vanity, separate room for toilet. b.) Walk in closet. c.) Laundry room.
3. 4 finished floors, ideally one can walk out of both the basement & 1st floors, and I have always wanted at least one 3rd floor room.
4. A pool.
5. A 2+ car garage. Meaning, more than enough room for storage, plus 2 cars.
6. A kitchen that opens into a family room.
7. A tire swing.
8. A decent size front porch.
9. A large, clean, dry space for well organized storage.
10. A functional fire place.
11. An address that is located between 40th and 95th block on either the MO or KS side, no further East than Oak and no further West than Metcalf.

I think it's possible.

According to Brock

When taking a bath, one gets their butt and nose wet. And that about covers it.

Bears can eat the moon.

Once cleaned with a baby wipe, breakable items can no longer be broken.

When in doubt, the explanation: "I saw it on tv" always works.

He has a baby in his belly.

Pizza is no longer pizza when cut in squares.

Allow me to elaborate on the Pizza comment. One night, we baked a Costco pizza for dinner. These pizza's are a little on the large side. Therefore, Matt decided it might be best to cut into squares as opposed to the usual triangular pizza pie-type slices. Before he did this, he ran it by me. To make sure that I, the neurotic, anal one with a preference on just about everything, especially when it comes to food, would be OK with this slight change in preparation. My response? Of course you can cut it in squares! Why would I care!? So, he proceeded to cut it into squares (they were actually more like rectangles, but whatever, I will let the technicality go).

I put a couple pieces on a plate for myself, and put one on a plate for Brock. As soon as he sees the square pizza slice on his plate, an absolute melt down occurs. "No, no, no, no, no. Not that piece. No. I don't want that piece! That's not pizza." He then runs out of the room, to get his stool, so he can see on top of the stove better to inspect what piece he might prefer. When he gets a good look at the entire pizza and sees that they are all misshapen. Well. Let's just say he didn't calm down enough to eat for a good 20 minutes.

Looks like Matt guessed wrong on who would care about Pizza cut into squares.

The Art of Perception

A friend of mine just posted a picture of the sunrise this morning. I don't think she is in the habit of waking up in the wee hours, just to sit and watch the sun come up. She was awoken by her 14 month old son. Most often we curse our little tykes for this kind of behavior. Everyday we hope they will sleep in past 8am. But she would not have had the opportunity to witness this extra-beautiful morning without him. For all the little "inconveniences" babies and children provide, they also inspire, and add to our lives.

As adults, we get so easily caught up in "to-do" lists. We stick to schedules. We have to work. Clean. Provide. But having 2 little boys, I am forced to appreciate the small things in life again. I get to walk through a simple pumpkin patch, and pick out my very own melon off the vine. I get to watch my 3 year-old searching for the perfect pumpkin to take home (which ended up being not so perfect, kind of soft on one side, so we got it for free. The squirrels have been helping themselves lately, so maybe it is for the best.) There were no slides, rides or games. We simply explored a large field of vines. We got cockle burrs all over our pants. Some of us panicked about this. Some of us simply picked them off then tried to eat them. We were in no rush. I get take a walk in the rain and remember how much fun it was to run in the little river of water running down the curb. I notice airplanes and trains and trucks and "the po-po". I get to share in the excitement of seeing the moon and stars every night, or marvel at the sun behind the clouds. I get to sit on my porch just a little bit too long while watching the lightening and get soaked by the sudden downpour. I get to read my childhood favorite, "Are You My Mother?" over and over and over again.

I never get sick of watching these two little boys grow. And my heart swells. And my already out of control pride increases. And though I get exhausted, and tested, and over-worked, I just can't get enough of life. Just look at that smile. And I think you will get what I mean.

Hump Day

I am officially 20 weeks (and one day now). Therefore over the hump!

I love life. I generally NEVER want it to go by quickly. When I really think about the fact that my first born is nearly 3, it makes me a bit sad. I've loved every stage of his relatively short little life, but it needs to SLOW DOWN. My second kiddo is going to be one in a month. What!? Stop. Stop. Stop. But when I realized that I was already 20 weeks pregnant, I in no way wished that would change. As far as I am concerned, 9 months of pregnancy CANNOT go by fast enough. Ever.

That being said. I can't complain about number 3 one bit. The reason this pregnancy is flying by (in combination with my ridiculous workload) is because I hardly even notice the little jumping bean in my belly. There is a hint of indigestion. An iota of restless legs. A whiff of nausea. Some negligable lower back and abdominal pain. And a lot of random flutters and even a few teeny tiny kicks I can feel from the outside now! I can safely say it now. It's been long enough. This pregnancy is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, like the first two. If it was going to get bad, it would have done it 10 weeks ago. I mean, I know I will have the unavoidable 3rd trimester discomforts (unless I miraculously have a 6 pounder) but, wow. Now I know how some women sincerely don't mind pregnancy. And the relief from the unbearable, awful, no good, very bad symptoms, has also made me significantly less emotional. Still a lot worse than baseline (if I even know what that is anymore), but instead of crying 2-5 times a week, it's more like 2-5 times a trimester; compared to 2-5 times a decade non-pregnant.

As I help mom's deliver their babies, day in and day out, I can't help but be reminded that I will be in these ladies' position (no pun intended) one day very soon. In the span of 5 minutes, I go from thinking, do I seriously have to go through this again? While helping mom push. To thinking, I cannot wait to go through this again! When I see that little baby being placed on mommy's tummy and they meet for the first time.

Worn Thin

Lately, when Matt and I find time to attend a social event, inevitably, in the small talk conversations with acquaintances, the question, "How do you do it?" comes up. And this question is nearly always pointed at me. And is usually in reference to taking care of 2 children, with a 3rd on the way, while working 60-90 hour weeks. The thing is, I can't take care of 2 children and work that much. Nope, not possible to be in 2 places at once, I'm afraid. So I am not "doing it". Matt is working his 40 hours. Then HE is coming home and taking care of 2 children, 2 dogs, a cat, a fish and a 4 bedroom, 3 story house.

Sure, I run to the grocery store, or Target when I can. I leave little to-do lists. I empty or fill the dishwasher here and there. I even make dinner if I am home by 5:30 or 6. I throw the kids in the bath if I have a moment. I change their diapers. I am sometimes home in time to even give Curtis his bottle before bed. But, I am not running the show here. Matt dresses the kids everyday, gets them to daycare, or his mother's on days Brock has school. He packs their lunches, backpacks, diaper bags. He takes them to the doctor if their sick and gives them their medicine. He mows the lawn. He paints the deck.

And while doing all of this, he continues to work on his own photography business and passion. He edits photos when everyone has gone to bed, including myself. He has photo shoot opportunities nearly every weekend, which he has to turn down frequently so that his wife will remain sane, and his children cared for. He is working just as much as I am, if not more. There is always something to be done, and never enough time to do it. We just take each day as it comes, and try to enjoy ourselves as we go...it seems to be working.
So, from now on, whenever I am asked how I do it, I simply point to Matt. And say, I can do it, because of him.