The Worst Morning Of His Life

Cole wanted to bring his stuffed dog (Winston) to school for naptime. When we pulled out of the driveway he realized he had forgotten the poor pup, which of course was cause for a major freak out attack.

I’m talking the ENTIRE RIDE TO SCHOOL he screamed about the dang dog. He cried. He foamed at the mouth. He wailed, “This is the worst morning of my life.” He wept.

Then we pulled into the school parking lot and he said, “Oh, there’s Winston. He’s on the chair next to me.”

So the little bugger grabbed the dog, hopped out of the car, and strolled into school. The end.

Sigh.

The One In The Middle Is The Green Kangaroo

I had classic middle-child syndrome growing up. Although Cole isn't officially the middle child, I still sympathize with his situation and try to give him the special attention that he so desparately craves.

His favorite thing to do is sit with me and have me write out words for him to read. Yesterday he asked if he could also write his own words - I dare you to find his version of "Ferris Wheel" or "Water" or "Ghost Ship" - love the way a 4 year old's mind works.


He's in the Pre-K class at school and is luh-uhving all of the projects. He feels extremely old and important now that he's doing "big kid" crafts.





What can I say...he's a fellow ham after my own heart...





The infamous balloon incident of 2011...one of his balloons flew away and as Cole put it, "That was the worst day of my life." I figure if that's as bad as it gets, then the kid has it pretty good.

What A Year

When we found out we were pregnant with Dean, we absolutely couldn’t believe it. We didn’t even talk to each other for a few days because we couldn’t form words. We were shocked.

The pregnancy was tough due to fears of complications. I was large, grumpy, tired, working, and raising 3 kids ages 5, 3, and 1. We were stressed.

When Dean was born, Charlie wasn’t walking. Cole wasn’t potty trained. We were stretched.

I very vividly remember walking up the back steps when I came home from the hospital. I was holding the baby carrier, and the other boys were jumping all around vying for my attention. I looked at Phil with tears in my eyes and said, “I don’t think I can do this.”

Then I walked into the Living Room and Grammy was sitting on the couch with her arms outstretched for the baby (literally). And from that point on, I knew we were going to be okay because we have very special people in our lives to help us through the hard parts.

It’s been an interesting year with a lot of laughs, tears, tantrums, hugs, and sleepless nights. But mostly lessons.

Lessons about multi-tasking, prioritizing, sharing, listening, and loving. Loving our boys, and loving the people in our lives who insist on helping us even when we say we have it all under control (because the reality is we usually don’t!!)

Happy (belated) birthday to Dean. Thanks for changing our lives and bringing love and laughter to everyone you meet.

Vacay Day 6

There's this awesome shop on the OC boardwalk (if only I remembered the name of it...) that's filled from top to bottom with pirate paraphanalia. Perfect booty for little boys that are about to go on a pirate adventure...


On the way to said adventure, there were people giving free pony rides in a parking lot. Random!


Onto the adventure. There's this company called Pirate Voyages that takes kids around the bay and does all sorts of piratey things with them. This is also known as heaven for the 4-6 year old crowd.

There were flags to be hoisted...


Treasure maps to be decoded...


And this weirdly masked guy named Pirate Pete floating in the water, leaving messages in bottles and shooting them with "seagull pee." Awesome.



After a day of pillaging on the high seas, we drove over to Wildwood to have a dip in Granny & Pop-Pop's pool and share a pizza on the boardwalk.


The evening ended with the sun setting over the ocean as we walked hand-in-hand with our family. The kids couldn't stop thanking us for everything we did for them, and we all happily laughed about the magical memories we shared that day.

Oh wait - strike that - in reality Cole had a tantrum on the boardwalk because his ice cream cone was melting too fast. Darn you reality.

My Life Before 8 am

People ask me all the time what my mornings look like. To me it all seems very normal and manageable – until you throw in the inevitable tantrum or have to spend 10 minutes convincing your almost-4-year-old that his legs are not broken and he CAN get out of bed if he would just try (true story - see bullet #6).

For all of you who have asked, here is my account of a typical morning (this morning, to be exact):

• Woke up and scanned work emails for any overnight drama. More importantly, played my turns on Words With Friends


• Folded laundry/put in new load (truthfully I just needed clean socks, I'm usually not that motivated)


• Threw together dinner and revved up the crock pot


• Got myself showered, dressed, and presentable for work


• Woke up #1 and #2 out of Daylight Savings coma


• Convinced #2 that his legs were not broken, he was just tired. Got #1 and #2 dressed, teeth brushed, wrestled with cowlicks


• Woke up #3. Dressed, teeth brushed, wrestled with cold medicine


• Woke up #4. Changed clothes, fed bottle, wrestled with reflux medicine


• Reflux medicine rebelled. #4 puked on me – back to the closet to change shirt


• Brief moment of scowling due to the fact that I really liked how I looked in the now-puked-filled shirt


• Hustled all kids downstairs for granola bars and juice


• Crawled around on hands & knees searching for the stuffed hippo so #2 could bring something grey to show & tell. Finally located said hippo in pantry


• Corralled #2 and #3 into van. Drove to daycare


• Dropped kids off, completely forgot that #3 is out of diapers


• Drove to drug store, picked up overly priced diapers. Drove back to daycare to drop them off


• Back into van, convinced myself to ignore the gas light and wait until after work to fill up


• Drove to the Q to start my second job. Settled into desk at 8 am


• Sipped lukewarm tea in peace and quiet. Ohm.
  
  

Looking Forward To Four

Most people with children would probably agree that the term “terrible twos” was created by someone with no kids and a love for alliteration. Because although the twos stink, the threes suck.

Our own three year old Cole has been a pistol since birth. He crawled at 6 months, walked at 8 months, and has been on the run ever since. Add to that a case of middle child syndrome and a mother who has been either pregnant or post-partum for most of his life, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

So to say that ages two and three have been a challenge for our Cole is quite the understatement. But the beauty of it – as he approaches age four, a new kid is emerging. A kid that’s sweet, respectful, hilarious, and even listens. So finally, my point.

I picked him up from school and his teacher, Mr. Mike, asked to speak with me. He said, “I have to tell you that Cole was absolutely the BEST listener in class today. For some reason everyone else was in a nasty mood and had tantrums left and right, but Cole was FANTASTIC all day long. I’m so proud of him.”

My heart swelled with pride. Then I realized that we have two more kids to go through this phase. Only 3 more years to go!

How Sweet It Is

There's a quote that I try to keep in the back of my mind at all times, "The days are long but the years are short."

Despite the crying, the screaming, the teething, the puking, the tantrums, and the whining (that includes me on some days), I'm truly trying to enjoy all of the moments that I can.

I was flipping through our pictures from this year and they show that we really do have a great family. Maybe it's the exhaustion talking, or maybe it's because they're all asleep. Either way, life is good.