Monday, November 17, 2008

They Have No Idea..



They can't possibly know how much I love them, how much I worry about them, how much I dream about their futures, how much they mean to me. They can't possibly know how much they've changed my life.

With Thanksgiving on the way, I've been giving serious thought to what I'm grateful for:
Being able to stay home with my kids
Friends that will tolerate my bouts of insanity
A husband that loves me even though I've gained 30 lbs
An awesome neighborhood w/ fantastic neighbors
A family that I love
and so much more...

I'm not really feeling the whole blog thing lately, but Tim wanted me to blog so that I could link to his new Etsy site. So, that's what I'm doing. Blogging a little and linking a little.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Happy Chompo To Me!

Today, I'm 34.
So, if you're wondering what the hell "Happy chompo to me" means, I'll tell you.
It's from a book called:
http://cdn.harpercollins.com/harperimages/isbn/large/4/9780064430074.jpg
Frances is a cute little badger that is forever wrestling with her conflicting desires and feelings. This series of books is perfect for toddlers because it illustrates exactly the issues that are facing them. For example, Frances wants to buy her little sister a birthday gift. So, she goes with her father to the store to buy gumballs and one Chompo bar. (Of course, this is what Frances really wants for herself, right?) So, the whole way home she's squeezing the Chompo bar every so often and trying to convince her father that Gloria (her sister) is probably too young to eat the whole bar herself. You know she just wants to tear that thing open and eat it.
The best part, which I am referring to in the title is when Frances, in quite a dark manner, sings "Happy Chompo to me, that's how it ought to be. Happy Chompo dear Frances. Happy Chompo to me." in place of the normal lyrics to the Happy Birthday song. Very much like a todder, eh?
Of course, Frances comes to her senses and redeems herself at the end of the book. But, for me, the best part is her little, almost evil wish for the Chompo bar to be hers...all hers!
Toddlers are sweet, but are constantly conflicted between what they really feel and want versus what is the right thing to do in the situation. It's a hard lesson to learn. Some adults I know have never learned this lesson.
Anyway, the whole series of Frances books by Russell Hoban are hysterical and true to life. If you have kids, they are a must read.

DSC_7913a
So, now that you have the background info, I can tell you how this little one ruined my birthday!

We drove out to Roswell to drop the kids off for a couple of hours. Harper was asleep in the car seat when we arrived, so we didn't wake her. We gave Audrey kisses and told her we'd be back in a little bit.
We finished a nice dinner sans children for the first time in I don't know how long. It was nice.
I called to check in with my parents afterward to see how things were going. BIG MISTAKE. Harper was screaming her head off in the background. Apparently, she woke up, took one look at my mom and freaked. She screamed for an entire hour and a half. They tried everything. Do we continue on to the movie or go get her?
No question.
Of course, we skipped the movie and I drove like a lunatic back to my parents' house.

As soon as she saw me she stopped crying. It was instantaneous. My parents were baffled. I was a mix of emotions: I really wanted time to unwind and relax, but I also was relieved that she was alright and even sort of pissed that I'm the only one that can comfort her. I felt bad for my parents, too. She really is a sweet, funny and happy baby. I promise.

In the end, although I selfishly wanted a night alone with my husband. I knew the right thing was to not be upset or self-centered and to embrace the moment for all it was worth.
It may have been the worst birthday, ever. But, I learned an important lesson: Next time, wake the baby up so that she knows where she is and is comfortable before you abandon her.

In all seriousness, my kids come first. Some days are tougher than others. My birthday just happened to fall on one of those tough days.

I'm 34. I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful daughters. Dinners and movies are alright, but a slobbery smile on a chubby toothless face is so much better.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Has it really been that long?

my wonderful spawn

Hello internets. It's been two months since my last post. Forgive me.

Time is flying by and I'm not even documenting it properly. Poor Harper. You'll not have the completed baby book, the monthly newborn blog updates or the scrapbooking pages your sister has had. Please, don't hate me. I'll get around to doing that at some point (when you're 20 most likely). At least I take pictures pretty regularly.

It's just that I feel a few steps behind most of the time. Well, let's be honest: I am busting my ass just to keep the house orderly, Audrey happy and you from screaming crying most of the time. Forget about getting back in shape! I guess I should just throw in the towel and not give a shit what people think. I've never been good at keeping up with the Joneses anyway.

Harper Jane,

I'm feeling a little guilty lately because the bulk of this blog is about your older sister. I feel like you'll think you've been jilted if you ever read this years from now. I haven't written much about you since you've been born. "It's always Audrey, Audrey, Audrey!" No. It's not. Not anymore.

It was hard for me to write about you during the first few months. I know it's not fair to compare you to your sister, but it's inevitable. You were so uncomfortable during your first months. You had bad bad gas. You seemed to always have what your dad calls "crank face". You never ever sat still for more than 5 minutes. Never would you let anyone else hold you but me. You hated the sling! It was taxing, to say the least. We couldn't take you anywhere. Your dad and I were not used to that. We assumed you'd be just like Audrey. What were we thinking? You proved to be very different. And different is okay (just so you know).

Honestly, I don't think you liked being pulled into this world. You might've had a sweeter disposition had you been able to make your appearance on your own terms. Who knows. My point is that I couldn't really get a sense of who you were in those first few months. I never found the secret formula for a happy baby. Part of me was depressed and part of me was just plain tired. You were a such a demanding baby!

Thank goodness, that has all changed. You've made me work hard to see it, but your personality is really blossoming these last few weeks. You're crying less. The incessant screaming in the car has subsided (for the most part) and you're smiling and laughing so much more. What a relief! I never spoke it, but I was really worried about you there for a while. Who am I kidding? I was really worried about me. I didn't think I was being a good mother.

You're a happy baby now and that's all that matters.

She literally attacks this plush pumpkin.

RIGHT NOW: You're in my arms, fused to the boob. You look so sleepy sweet. Your fuzzy hair is getting thicker. Your little fingers are twitching. You never stop wiggling, even in your sleep. Your dad has actually dubbed you, "The Wiggler". You're grabbing things like crazy, especially your sister's hair (in clumps). Most impressive is your ability to maneuver yourself around the floor. I just know you'll be crawling in no time. You can sit up by yourself for a short time and you've even been eating a little solid food. The best is your cooing, which you showcase in the mornings. You love it when we steady you on your feet. It makes you feel like a big kid. Maybe that has been part of your discontent- you're not advanced enough to do the things you see the "big kids" doing all day long, right in front of you! It could be that, or the fact that you haven't had a normal poop since you were born.

Fuck constipation. That would make me pretty cranky too!

We'll get you regular, don't worry.

I'd type more, but it's slow going with only one hand.
I love you more than thunder clouds, dear Harper.



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