12 on the 12th [The May Chapter]

01.  Homework.  After an all-nighter Spence finally got the lights on his circuit board to blink like they were supposed to.  He tried to explain it to me but I got confused at “okay, so look at this code”.  Apparently a screen of completely random numbers and foreign symbols make the lights blink.  Who knew?

02.  Breakfast.  Toast, strawberries and a glass of milk.

03.  Tulips.  I was pleasantly surprised by the number of tulips that bloomed in my flower beds this spring.  I was certain that the deer had eaten them all back in the fall.  Turns out they left some for me.  Such kind houseguests.

04.  Cheesehead.  Jumping on the trampoline in our pajamas before getting ready for the day.

05.  Bike Trailer.  Gearing up for a bike ride to preschool.  The kids got me an odometer for Mother’s Day.  I’ve biked 13.4 miles since Sunday.

06.  Flower Pot.  My bedazzled Mother’s Day flower pot made by Brynlee.

07.  Lemonade.  Lunch on the deck with raspberry lemonade.

08.  Toys.  The kiddos entertainment while Miranda and I got our hair done.  They were hair salon champs.           

09.  Me.  Sportin' a freshly colored hairdo.

10.  Swing.  Stopped by the park to reward superb hair salon behavior and because it was b-e-a-utiful outside.

11.  Dinner.  Chips and salsa and a fajita burrito.  I was cautious to go easy on the salsa consumption this time.

12.  Trio.  Spent the last of the gorgeous day’s sunlight wrapped in a blanket on the porch swing.

12 on the 12th inspired by her.

A note for Buddy

To Jace: 

There are certain things I don’t get about you.  Like why you insisted on wearing two pair of underwear today.  Or why, “Mama, you hold me” really means “I need to go potty.”  Or why you think it’s funny to lick people.  Or why you cried this afternoon when Brynlee begged you to go inside reading hour with her instead of waiting outside the door with me like you usually do.  “Me too tiny” you informed her between sniffles, obviously overwhelmed by the idea of stepping into the unfamiliar. 

And there are certain things about you that just make me laugh.  Like how you ran downstairs tonight ten minutes after we put you in bed, “me already waked up, guys, me already waked up.”  Or how you laugh until you cry when we play ‘the mean doggy game’.  Or how when you and Brynlee play house she’s the baby and you’re the mommy. 

And there are other things about you that just make me smile.  Like when you say your prayers.  Or when you give me kisses. Or when you play superheroes.  Or how excited you are when daddy gets home from work.  Or how giving five is always followed by giving knuckles which is always followed by giving noggin.  Or how you request to sing Twinkle, Twinkle every single Family Home Evening.  Or how you say “me happy mommy, are you happy” at random times throughout the day.

And there are still other things about you that make me proud.  Like how quickly you are to apologize and give loves after you have done something wrong.  Or how well behaved you are while we wait for Brynlee at dance class.  Or how you try really hard to make Brynlee happy when she’s sad.

And there are things about you that I love.  Like your smile.  And your eyes.  And your nose.  And your toes.  And everything in between.  Like, YOU.  All of you.  Every single bit of you.  Even the parts of you that I don’t really get.  And even the parts of you that sometimes throw fits.  And the parts of you that make me laugh.  And the parts of you that make me proud.  And the parts of you that test my patience.  And the parts of you that are growing up so fast.  Every single bit of you - I love. 

Just thought you would like to know.

Love ya buddy,

Mommy

Proud Mother of the World’s Best Kids

me and my kids on a Mother's Day walk in the rain

What is it about motherhood that brings out the cattiness in women?  That need to compare, to one up, to trump in a imaginary contest of ‘Mom Eat Mom’.  What is it that makes us brag like the world has never seen children like our children. 

Motherhood seems to revert grown women to high school Mean Girls {accompanied by boobs with a little more sag and badonkadonks with a little less wag}. 

My little sister walked at eight months old.  Little, tiny walking thing.  Ask me how many times I’ve heard that story. 

And I have a good friend that potty trained her firstborn at an earlier age.  Although I’m not entirely certain how early since every time the tale’s retold the age seems to ironically decrease.  The kid was apparently sportin’ dry underwear before my kids were able to digest solid foods. 

It’s not just about our children’s successes either, but the method we used to get them here.  Ten points for a natural, epidural free, without induction delivery.  Seven points if you were weak and requested an anesthesiologist.  Two points if you were one of the unlucky ones that had to experience a c-section.  Sorry.  But it’s the name of the game.  Mom Eat Mom, remember. 

And in true competitive form we belittle other mothers like it boosts our own personal motherhood resume.  Did you hear that mother A sends her toddler to bed with juice? IN A BOTTLE!  And I can’t believe mother B lets her kids eat ice-cream before dinner. . . worst.mom.ever!  And, holy crap, do you know how much TV mother C lets her kids watch?  And what about the mom who opts for disposal diapers over cloth.  Or formula over nursing.  Or having a career over staying at home. 

“My kids four and she already reads” I overheard a mother proudly bragging at the library the other day.  I’ve heard the same conversation a million billion times before.  My kid only requests fruits and veggies for snacks.  My kid could say his ABCs at 12 months.  My kid can build a lego masterpiece with his eyes closed.  My kids don’t whine.  My kid. . .

I’m guilty.  I mean, welcome to my blog: a place where I shamelessly brag about my offspring and their uncanny ability to rock this universe.  Both my kids were potty trained at two, they don’t watch much TV and they amaze me with their remarkable drama talent when they act like dogs in the grocery store.  Three points for me.  Why yes, the points have true value and you better believe I’m keeping track.  Because I’m a mom, and that’s what mom’s do.

A Message to Mom

Dear Mom,

A Mother’s Day love note to you, from yours.  Thanks for being our mother. 

XOXO,

Your Gang