A blast from the past for ya’ll this Tuesday. This week I’m gonna try and re-post some of my old time fav’s from my blog. Oldie but goodie for sure about a little interaction Luke and I had back in the day.
Stop dicking with me, Colorado weather. You are such a freaking tease. Each time the sun comes out, I get all geared up to bust out some capris, expose my upper arm, and maybe hit the playground with the kids, but no. You continue to fuck everything up.
Yes, yes, we knew you were coming. Yes, yes, we hope you help prevent forest fires this summer. Blah blah blah. Honestly, though, I’m so done with you that I’d take burnt grass in June. For realz. Fucking bring it.
I have run out of all my teacher tricks of making up games and art projects and dressing up and painting and charades and I have baked my ass off and I seriously can’t go to the fucking mall one more time or I might take someone out because the kids who go there as regularly as we do these days are kinda whack. How the fuck am I supposed to avoid endless hours of Disney tunes on Pandora when I am trapped inside like this? Sometimes I just lie on the floor and let the kids crawl all over me. Because I am that good and I can’t think of anything else…
I heard this weekend we might reach the 70′s, though. Suddenly I feel a bit better.
After I had my second kid, I was like “yeah friggin’ right, I’ll have another.” Disgusting. With my stomach hanging down to my knees and my hands full of kids I couldn’t imagine it. The thought made me nauseous. When I went in for my post-baby appointment and the nurse asked what our plan was for future birth control, I told her we were thinking of doing that thing where they just cut the guy’s balls off. She laughed a great deal. And come to find out they don’t actually take those man parts off.
Fast forward one and a half years and now the thought of a third is not so disgusting. Well,sometimes. I will say that I think less and less of this:
And more and more of this:
I mean we could totally handle three, right? Right? We both come from families of three. But it’s damn hard to figure out whether we’re really gonna go for it or not.
I tend to ask everyone their opinion about this, parents both old and young. People have strong convictions and reasons for whatever it is they think. But that doesn’t get us any closer to figuring it out for ourselves. At the end of the day the only right answer here is the one that we both come to. But why is it so damn hard to figure out? Perhaps this goes along the paradox of choice. Two, for us, was an obvious call. But three? A complete choice based on our preference. Yikers. How the hell does one determine preference here? What variables are the most important?
Logically, the answer for us is two. We have everything we need. A girl, a boy, a nice living condition, a tight little group. We can give them both more attention, more resources financially and otherwise. We could start traveling again, camping, skiing more, save money and on and on and on.
But then there is three. What about when we’re older? Won’t it be great to have more kids then? Having kids is perhaps my favorite thing I’ve done with my adult life. And large families have their own special appeal. Personally, I love having two brothers and different relationships with both of them. Short term pain for long term gain. I don’t want to regret later when it’s too late that we could have had more. And as the WSJ article: The Case for Having More Kids discusses, it’s super tough to make life decisions like this when you’re in the midst of some tough years at home with wee ones.
Blarg. Decision paralysis.
So, we will continue to make our tally of yes’s and no’s and count up and average the days at some point. I have a few more years until having another is off the docket by force.
How lucky we are to get to make these kinds of choices. What a bitch it is to make these kinds of choices.
I am an Irish lass. Growing up, St. Patrick’s Day was second only to Christmas in our house. Seriously, my Mom made everything green and shiz. It was amazing. We all have a lot of Irish pride (perhaps part of the reason I still can’t give up my last name). Anywho…
Fast-forward many years and now I am trying to recreate some of the same traditions for my kiddos. Among them is reading pertinent books. Last week I was reading a book to Cora in which the people of Ireland were a happy bunch because they had so much luck. But they were too lucky and too happy and so the leprechauns came on the scene to take away the people’s luck and keep their happiness in check. The leprechaun king whisked the main character, Fiona, down into his underworld layer where he was storing all the luck of the land.
Now, if you are a good parent, you’re thinking: Brie, why the hell hadn’t you read the scary book first before reading it to your three year old? Or at least scanned the damn thing? Fine, fine. You got me there. But look, the book ends on a happy note where the girl restores all the luck…blah blah blah. However if you’re like me, you have perhaps a more important question: what the fuck is the deal with the leprechauns?
I mean, I know they are supposed to be mischievous and all, but why’d they have to bring a girl down to hell or whatever? Why they gotta be so harsh? I guess I always thought they were supposed to be light-hearted, fun, little guys. The kind you’d want to be friends with. The kind whose heads you’d rub when they did something silly. The class clown type. Not horrific, evil devils that give little girls nightmares.
Well, you can imagine this left poor Cora with a lot of questions, and me spinning to try and make St. Patrick’s Day not sound so heinous and corrupt. It is supposed to be fun after all.
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.”
What incredible reminders of non-attachment and the opportunity to keep our egos as parents in check. Whaddya think?
Wait, wait. Before you click away from my site, you gotta read this story. Please don’t let the title scare you. It’s hilarious and it’s Friday; we all need something light to get the weekend going.
So my 3 year old has some down time in her room in the afternoon. She often has to use the restroom during her time. Everyday at 2pm exactly, I hear her calling for me to help her wipe her tiny butt. “I’m done! I’m done!” I can hear her bellowing down the hall. I hop out of my chair to help her do the deed.
While walking to help her yesterday, I see her grinning ear to ear on the pot. “Mommy, I made a BIG ASS POOP!” She says with glee. I choke and try not to laugh.
“You made a what, honey?” Trying to hold it together.
“A big ass poop!” My first reaction is to laugh. My second is to call Luker and laugh with him, then ask what the hell he’s been teaching the kids. He’s gotta watch what he says to them on the john, I’m thinking.
I wipe her tiny little bum and see that there, among the other tiny toddler tidbits, is a giant poop in the shape of the letter “S”.
Sweet thing. Definitely a big “S” poop.
(I’ll spare you a graphic)
Well, we made it to Disney World. As to be expected, it was totally amazing. It was a close call because Kierian was so sick for so many days prior, we weren’t sure we’d swing it. The kids and I had to cancel our trip once, but we braved the flight and he did just fine after re-booking. Phew.
It’s funny to go to Disney and be the parent this time. Crazy to walk in my parents’ shoes. It doesn’t feel like that long ago that my family ventured there for me (and my brothers’ benefit). I am just beginning to discover the joy that comes from seeing your children over-the-moon happy.
Being that our kids are so little, we weren’t sure how much of Disney they would take in. Surprisingly, they were up for almost all of it (with the exception of a few rides). Daddy worked hard during the days and thankfully, my parents came down for a few of those days to help me out while he was tied up. Luke and I even got in a few date nights at the Disney Parks! (Yay for grandparents). And my good friend Andrea, who is the ultimate Disney Diva, helped me create a kid-friendly game plan for our adventure. Overall, we made some incredible memories last week.
Here are a few pictures from our wonderful little hiatus…
Don’t know if we would have done this trip if Luke hadn’t had a conference down there. But I’m so glad we did. Our kids won’t be little for long and before we know it, Disney magic won’t be quite as impactful. Just as much of a dream come true for us as it was for them…
Holy crap we have been completely clobbered by the flu in our house. Seriously. Don’t come near us.
Kierian has been sick since New Years off and on, and his latest bout has left him barfing for six days. Six. Effing. Days. He’s a skinny bean and doesn’t have much fat to spare. Poor dear. I keep hoping we’re gonna turn a corner here…
Man, it is so tough to see a little baby suffer. Watching Kierian get sick over and over again makes me think about all the babies in the world who are sick on a regular basis. It’s like for one iota of a second I get a glimpse into the depth of that suffering and it’s almost unbearable. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to have a child with a chronic illness that left them sick constantly. I can’t imagine being a mother of a baby in a place where access to clean water and medication was not a part of the equation.
I stayed at this Vihar in India while on retreat once:
and spoke with this ex-monk who worked there. He told me about how his little sister died because of bad water (ultimately dehydration). I seriously can’t even imagine what his family must have gone through. How many babies and people die of this every day? And something so completely preventable? Seeing a little baby who cannot yet talk beg for drink and cry with no tears is among the saddest sights to a Mama.
And I’m so glad that Luke and I have been here and been able to hold him and wash him and slowly rehabilitate him. How many babies and children are out there suffering from something and have no one to hold them? It is a terrible, horrible thought. It makes me want to squeeze mine so tightly.
So, again I am reminded to feel lucky. Though we have been completely capsized by this apparent epidemic, we have a hell of a support structure for our little man and I am allowed the confidence and peace to know that this flu is only temporary.
Well, the holidays are over. That means Daddy was back to work all week. Lordy. Here are the top ten things my kids freaked out about this week:
- She only got to have one hotdog
- Her black boots are too fuzzy
- Her arm went in the wrong hole
- She wanted a bun, not a ponytail
- I didn’t stand in the right spot while wiping her butt
- Cinderella is blue, not pink
- Her brother already had Bun-Buns once today
- She only wants to listen to music where a girl is singing
- He wants “more” (sign language) of something but we can’t seem to figure out what
- I gave him the green binki instead of the blue one
Cheers for weekends, ya’ll.
Sometimes when I get the kids down to nap and I look around the house and there are crumbs on the floor and Legos on the window sills and boxes of Christmas decorations that are sitting out waiting to be put up, and corroded dishes in the sink, and laundry vomiting out the closet and dog shit covering the yard, I think to myself, Self, I think it may just be easier to light this mother fucker on fire (the house).
Now now, before you go on thinking I am crazy, let me assure you that I’d set fire to our house responsibly. I’d get the kids and all the valuables like our pictures and our estate planning documents. I’d alert the neighbors and grab the laptop and a few snacks for the kids like bun-buns or something to tide them over until I could explain to Daddy that we’d have to go out to dinner. I’d turn off the gas (wait, I don’t know how to do this–should I do this before starting a fire? I’ll have to ask my brother…). I may even get the dog, but honestly, that is totally dependent on the day of the week I’d set the fire and what mood I am in.
One hurdle I’m finding in my planning is where to start the fire? I’m thinking of starting it in the back because we just got a new couch in the front and I feel like we should let that sucker stand as long as we can before burning because it is new. Also, if I start it in the back I should have time to run to the front and get out safely. Or, if at the off chance that I change my mind mid-inferno, I could get back in and find the fire extinguisher and get it under control.
You know what though? The cleaners are coming tomorrow so maybe I’ll just wait until next week.
Just another real problem for a Boulder Housewife.