Inspired

Let's pretend that I haven't been away for the last two months.  And we'll assume that I'll go back and fill in the gaps.  But for now...I'm feeling the urge to write.

When we started school a few weeks ago, and I was getting ready for Back to School night for my first grade class, I put a small sheet from a notepad down on every student's desk.  I gently asked parents to leave a little love note for their first grader to read (or hear, in most cases) on the very first day of school.  It's hard to be a first grader - to be dropped off by Mommy or Daddy with a near-stranger and be away from your parents all day.  But it's even harder to be a mommy or a daddy and drop your baby off with a near-stranger for the entire day - this much I know is true.  The love notes help.

I gather them up and then before the kids come in that very first morning, I make sure to put the note on the desk they've chosen for themselves.  The notes are always very sweet - wishing that kids have a great time, meet new people, and try their best.  But this year, one of those notes stopped me in my tracks.  This mom, who I knew I would love the moment I met her, wrote all of those same things everyone else writes, but then, in large letters near the bottom she wrote, "Be an AMAZING Friend!"

What a wonderful way to send someone out into the big, wide world.  What a moving message.  I can't remember exactly because it was three weeks ago, but I'm pretty sure I got goosebumps just reading those words.

So I did what every rational mom would do.  I learned from this wonderful example, and then shared that message with my own kids.  When I dropped Jack and Hannah off that first morning, I gave hugs and kisses, told them to have fun, and then finished it off with, "Be an amazing friend!"

Just like that.  No big discussion.  No lecture.  Just simple and almost as if I'd been saying it forever and ever.

Don't get me wrong - this is certainly a lesson I've shared with the littles along the way, but never in such a powerful way, it felt.

Since the first day of school, I've repeated this message.  Not every day, and not in the same exact words, but there's an undertone that is present now that wasn't before.  Be kind to people.  Be gentle.  Make others feel better.

Today, on the way home, we were talking about our days, as we usually do.  And then Jack shared this story:

     Mama, today I was playing with all of the girls and {so-and-so} came up and asked to play and the      girls said no.  He walked away kind of sad, so I went up and said, "They don't want to play, but I'll      play with you."

You guys, right then and there - my heart exploded.  The tone of his voice and the fact that he was so proud of himself...he knew he'd done this amazing thing and that I would just be so happy to hear about this moment.  He couldn't wait to share it, and I just smiled.  I told him that he must've made {so-and-so} feel so much better and that I was so proud of him.

And then, I thought...

How lucky am I that I was able to get this sneak-peek into this other mother's way of leading her children to do the right thing?

Four simple words.

That's all it took.

The Lessons They Teach Us

This weekend was a lazy weekend around our house.  We didn't have any plans going into it, and we didn't even get out of our jammies until we decided to take the kids out to dinner on Saturday night.  We had big breakfasts and napped and watched TV.  Yesterday afternoon, I hung out with the kiddos and did some school work while they watched Christmas movies.  Brad was doing some work on the turtle tanks.  It wasn't a very planned or eventful weekend.

If I'm being honest, I usually feel very unsettled about these weekends.  I don't especially like going into a weekend that's fully planned because, in theory, I like to have plenty of relaxation time.  But in reality, it makes me anxious.  I always feel super lazy and unmotivated, and then I feel guilty that I didn't get enough done or seize the day or something.

I also feel guilty that I didn't plan a fun, family event.  We didn't go to a museum or a pumpkin patch (Christmas tree farm?) or even to the store.  I felt bad when Jack announced that he was bored, like I'd let him down.  I realize this is crazy, but this is what I think.  Every weekend where I haven't planned something rather substantial, I secretly am feeling guilty, which makes it quite difficult to relax.  I wonder what Jack will write about when his teacher asks him to write about his weekend.  Will he have anything to say?

Let's just say...I shouldn't have worried.

"I ate sausage.  I slept.  I snuggled with my mom.  I played with my sister.  I love home."

And also, I shouldn't feel guilty.  Because, clearly, he loves his down time, too.

The Sweetest Kids

So while my life has been a little hectic lately, I can still recognize when the littles are being sweet as pie.

Today, Grandma and Grandpa picked the kiddos up from school and spent some time with them so I could have a few hours to myself.  They surprised the kids with some gummy eyeballs, and Hannah was extremely pleased.  As we were packing up and heading home, I had my arms filled with bags from our day.

Hannah Bear came over and said, "It's okay, Mommy.  I can help you.  I'll carry the gummies."

Now, the fact that she wanted to eat the gummy eyeballs on her way home is not lost on me, but I also know that she was trying to help...selectively.  And I appreciate the thought.

*****

Later, as I ate my dinner, Hannah watched TV, and Jack drew Pokemon friends next to me, he announced, "I'm so lucky to have you for a mama."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

He explained that I was a nice mama who gives him nice things (like the Draw Your Favorite Pokemon book he was using), and that he knows that some kids don't have books or nice things.  I found it touching that he was being so grateful - in this quiet moment where he was enjoying himself doing one of his favorite things...drawing.

I just love these kids so much.

3 years, 2 months, and 25 days...

...that's exactly how long it took for Hannah to announce, "You're the worstest mama eber."

I told her and Jack that they had five minutes to clean up the family room, or we wouldn't have time to read stories before bed, to which she replied, "You're the worstest mama eber."

I stood in the kitchen, speechless, wondering how, on earth, we will survive the next 14 years, nine months, and seven days.

God, help me.

Art

Today, Jack came home and immediately ran for a piece of paper.  He asked me if I wanted to watch him draw a shark.

"Of course," I said, and he immediately went to work.

I was in awe as he turned the paper and sketched with his pencil.  He added a border and explained that his art teacher, Mr. Sprinkle, taught him how to do that.

Then he added coral and seaweed, some of which was behind the shark.

He added treasure.

He colored the shark, and the border, the coral and the seaweed.  The treasure.

And I just smiled.  And took a picture.  And put it on the fridge.

And he just beamed.

He really loves to draw, and I'm so happy he's found something he loves to do.

He practiced lunch.

Today felt like a big day around here.  Jack got to practice eating lunch in the school cafeteria.  Our kindergarten program is a half-day program, and so usually, Jack goes to daycare and has lunch there.  But about a week and a half ago, his teacher sent home a letter explaining that the kindergartners would get to eat lunch in the cafeteria one day this year in order to better prepare them for first grade in the fall.  I thought this was a lovely idea, and I immediately got excited about a new lunch box and using the lunch box notes I've been pinning since before Hannah was born.

Saturday night, on our date night, Brad and I stopped into Target after dinner and a movie to pick out a lunch box and a thermos for our little man.  We settled on Spider-Man (of course!) and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Last night, after Sunday Steak Dinner, I made lunch like I imagine the best mommies do.  I pretended that this is a task I will not grow to despise before the end of the first week of school.  I even added the lunch box note.  And then I was worried the condensation from the thermos would smear the note before Jack would have a chance to read it.  So I put the note inside a baggie.

I couldn't wait to pick Jack up from school today to hear about his special lunch.  When I first saw him and asked about how it went, he said it was fun.  So I asked him if he found anything special inside his lunch box.  He said he found strawberries, blueberries, and bananas.  

"Anything else?" I asked.

"A Lunchable," he told me.

"Anything else?" I asked again.

"Nope."

"Did you see the note?"

With his little nose scrunched up, he asked, "Was I supposed to give that to my teacher?"

"No, silly - the note was for you!"

We went inside, and I went digging for the note to show him how much I cared.  I found the note, still in its plastic baggie, but I also found all of the trash from Jack's lunch.  Hard bologna, yogurt that had spilled all over the inside, uneaten cookies that had gone stale...

Apparently, he hadn't eaten fast enough, and in his new surroundings, decided to stash his food back into his lunch box.  We had a chat about using the trash can in the future (there were apparently five available, a tidbit he shared, but he still chose not to use one).

It wasn't until after dinner that he finally settled down to read his lunch note.  I think he thought it was pretty cute, even if it didn't go anything like I'd envisioned in my head.  I'm learning that it never does!

*****

And just because - here's this sweet, little beauty this morning before I had to wake her up.  Sometimes, she takes my breath away...

Mommy Fail, Pink Kitty Cats, and Trees

For the past several days, I've been fighting Hannah each morning to get her to wear shorts to school.  It's been 90 degrees outside, and our tiny tot only wants to wear jeans.  An entire drawer full of new shorts, cute dresses, and sunny skirts, and she'll only wear jeans!

I say fighting because it usually involves a tiny bit of wrestling, some sweating, and Hannah eventually falling limp.  Which means she wins.  Anytime I'm sweating before 7:15 am means I've lost.  So she's gone to school in jeans.  I take her shorts, just in case - but when I pick her up?  Jeans.

This morning, for some miraculous reason, I finally won.  I was able to sneak them on her little legs before she noticed she was wearing shorts.  She put up one little complaint, and then just said, "Okay." I didn't say a word.  I just slowly backed away so as not to upset the atmosphere.  I packed jeans in the event that she got to school and had a complete meltdown.

It was a little cool when we left, but I figured it would warm up later in the morning.  It was supposed to hit 82 degrees today.  When I went out for recess at 11:45, it was 62 degrees.  Wonderful.  Now my little girl is cold and will never trust me to wear shorts again.  Thankyouverymuchweatherforecaster.

I called school and kindly asked that they change Hannah into her back-up jeans.  Thank goodness they love us because otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd drive them crazy!

Funny enough - as I stressed through my recess worrying about my chilly children - Miss Hannah was apparently sweating from all of the fun activity she had outside.  At pick-up, Miss Keyana told me that when they came in, Hannah informed her that she "made a accident."  This caught Miss Keyana a tiny bit off-guard because that's not usually the case, so she went to see what happened.  She very kindly explained to Hannah Bear that she hadn't gone potty and that she was just sweaty :)

"Oh.  Okay."  So she pulled up her pants and went on her merry way.  Just like that.

*****

Tonight at dinner, Daddy was prepping Jack for their next round of The Animal Game.  Hannah decided she wanted to play.  She scrunched up her little nose and said, "Let me think.  A princess isn't an animal...a horse!  A horse is an animal!" clearly remembering her last attempt at the game.

I decided to try to help her out once again.  I leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Shh, don't tell the boys.  A kitty cat."

She smiled.

Jack asked her, "What color is it?"

"Pink!" she shouted, with great excitement.

"A flamingo?" Daddy asked.

"A mingo?  A mingo isn't an animal..."

I explained to her that a flamingo is a pink bird.

"I don't like birds," she told her daddy.

Jack asked her, "Does it have a tail?"

"No," she quickly answered, as I give her my WHAT?! face.  "It's a kitty cat!" she told them.

And they just smiled because they know.  And Jack?  He said, "Good thinking, Hannah.  That was very good," because he's learning.

*****

Tonight, they made trees.  Jack is teaching Hannah all about his love of art, and it makes me smile.

A Lesson in Letting Go

This afternoon was gorgeous.  It's rained for three days, and then finally today, the clouds parted and the sun came out.  The kids were excited when I picked them up from school.  They couldn't wait to get home and ride their bikes, and to be honest, neither could I.

We didn't have the best morning.  For the second straight day in a row, Hannah cried, kicking and screaming, on our way to school.  I think it started today because I had put her hair in pigtails for her spring pictures, and she wasn't loving the way her cowgirl hat sat atop her pigtails.  It escalated from there.  We hadn't even left the house yet before I, literally, broke out in a full-body sweat and had to do breathing exercises to remain calm.

To answer your question - yes, she wore a cowgirl hat in her spring pictures.  And her pink cowgirl boots.  And her plastic, princess necklace.  I've learned to pick my battles.  Apparently, the photographer thought it was a joke until Hannah was adamant and the teacher let him know I'd said it was okay.  "Okay, we can work with that,"he told them.  We can't wait to see how they turned out.

Anyhow, this morning was rough, so I was excited that we'd get to go out and play.  Soccer practice was canceled due to muddy fields, and so we had plenty of time before I had to start dinner.  We started to go for a walk around the block when Jack met a friend from our neighborhood.  She is also in kindergarten, although they are not in the same class.  She was initially walking a neighbor's dog, and then she was riding her bike around the block, lapping us at least once or twice.  I was impressed with the way this little girl was just riding freely through the neighborhood, watching for cars and making new friends.  She and Jack chatted a bit, and then she asked him to ride bikes with her.  Jack was thrilled, I could tell.  Off they went, until I couldn't see him anymore, and I started to panic a bit.  I could only move so fast because I also had Hannah on her bike, but we walked around until we caught up.  By the time we all made it back to our house, the little girl had disappeared back to her house, but she'd forgotten her helmet on our driveway.  Jack eagerly wanted to return it, so we decided to go for another loop around the block, only this time with Hannah in the stroller since her little legs were tired.

We got halfway around the block before the little girl's brother claimed his sister's helmet, and we headed back for home.  I had just started to cook dinner when our doorbell rang.  There stood the little girl, asking if Jack could play.  He was out the door before I could even think of a reason he couldn't go...

They put on their helmets, and they were off, as I rushed Hannah back into the stroller and chased after them as fast as possible.  Through my mind were mama questions like, "Is he old enough to ride bikes without me?  Does he really know to look both ways?  What would Brad do?  When is he old enough to play in the neighborhood?"  Thankfully, it was right about that time that Brad called while on his way home from work.  While gasping for air and running with Hannah in the stroller towards my independence-seeking son, I filled him in.  Brad was so happy for Jack - it was adorable.  I was scared and shaken, but Brad?  He was just proud.

We decided I'd give him the rules and then let him play.  I would go home with Hannah.  Brad would drive by in a bit to check on Jack and bring him home for dinner.  Nervously, I talked to Jack, who was beaming with excitement.  Hannah and I set off for home, and she started to cry, loudly.  I had to bribe her with nail polish and a mani/pedi to cease the screaming fit she was throwing on the sidewalk.

As I concentrated on painting Hannah's fingernails and toenails, the doorbell rang.  And there was my son.  Crying because his new friend had pushed him down.  He wasn't bleeding, he didn't seem hurt, but he was upset.  And I felt awful.  I'm sure he has never pedaled his bike as fast as he did on the way home, with his friend and her brother and his friends following behind.

I'm not sure about exactly what happened.  I'll never really know how it went down.  But I think as Jack gets older, it's going to be so important for him to have these little independent times to himself and his friends.  I can't be with him everywhere, and he has to learn how to handle all those tricky situations where, up until this point, I would have likely intervened.  We talked about how he could handle a similar situation next time, and we snuggled on the couch as I finished his sister's nails.  His feelings were hurt, but more than anything, I think he was scared to be out of reach, if only by a few houses and only for a few minutes.

*****

It's okay, Buddy.  The feeling was mutual.  You are growing up so fast, and Mama's so proud of you.  We'll figure it out together, Love.  I promise.

Growing Up

{photo courtesy of Marian Lozano}

Today was a hard day for my mommy-heart, but a very big day for my little man.  This morning, when we arrived at daycare, instead of coming with me to drop Hannah off as he usually does, and instead of waving to me from the front door as I drive away to go to work, he whispered into my ear that today he'd like to just go straight to his classroom to play with his friends before going to school.

Without missing a beat, I gave him a big smile and said, "Sure, Honey - of course.  I love you.  Have a good day!"  And off he went.  All smiles and proud.

I turned to go down the hall to Hannah's classroom, and my eyes welled-up with tears.  The other teachers that were in the hallway knew exactly how I was feeling.  They sympathized with me as I tried to be happy and kiss Hannah goodbye without crying my eyes out.  I made it back to my car before I really cried, but the way to work wasn't pretty.

It was too early to call anyone and I know it would have seemed silly to anyone else, but it was a very big deal to me.  I told Brad later this afternoon when I called him after work, and he said he understood why that would make me feel sad, but that he was happy for Jack.  That he's glad that he's becoming independent and braver.

And I am too.  I just wasn't ready.  It caught me off-guard, as I'm sure these things normally do.  

My baby boy is going to be six this spring.  And to me, six means he's no longer a baby.  He's out there, in the real world, going to school and making friends and riding buses, all without me.  And it's only going to be more and more like that as the years go by.  

I'm so glad that he's excited.  That he's enjoying more of his freedom.  And that it happens one little, teeny bit at a time.

{Note: The next day, Jack decided he wanted to come with me and Hannah.  Like I said, baby steps for both of us.}

ungrateful

I'd like to think that I'm a grateful person - that I take time to appreciate the things I have.  That I recognize how lucky I am.  That I say thank you.  Often.

But for some reason - and I have to say I'm embarrassed to write this, and at the same time, I feel guilty about writing this - I sometimes fear that we are raising ungrateful children.  It seems to both Brad and I that lately when we do something nice for the kiddos, they want more.  They don't say thank you for what they have,  they want one step further.  And they melt down when they don't get that extra step.

Prime example - today I took Jack and Hannah to see The Lego Movie.  It was Hannah's first experience at the movie theater, and she just couldn't wait for the movie to begin!  She talked about it all day.  We tried to make it to a late morning show, but they were sold out of all seats except for the front two rows (and that just wasn't happening).  So we bought tickets for a late afternoon show instead, and tried to go about our merry way.  It was a tiny bit tricky for Hannah to understand that we were going to come back, so she was upset initially.  But eventually, I think she caught on that after nap we'd go back.

The movie was adorable, and they both really enjoyed it.  I think Hannah may have liked Frozen more, but Jack had already seen it, and Hannah likes Legos, too.  They were excited about popcorn and chocolate and a fun outing with Mommy.  It was special.

Until the very end.  As they put on their jackets, I collected all of our trash.  On our way out of the theater, I tossed our things into the trash can, as any normal person would.  And Jack immediately burst into loud, splashy tears.  Immediately.

When I was finally able to get out of the crowd and wrangle Hannah back with us, I bent down to figure out what happened.  He was upset that I'd thrown away his fruit snacks.  (Apparently, I missed that there were fruit snacks hidden inside the kids' popcorn bags.)  I initially responded by saying we didn't get fruit snacks, but this only seemed to escalate the crying.  Finally, I understood what he was telling me, and realized I had, indeed, thrown out the fruit snacks.  I tried to explain that he should have said something or held on to his popcorn or told me about the snacks.  That he should've used his words instead of immediately crying.  He simply wanted the fruit snacks.

I felt bad that I'd thrown them away.  We went to the counter, and I explained, but they were not willing to give me said fruit snacks.  $11.00 later, we had more popcorn and fruit snacks in hand, and we were on our way home.

No thank you.  No I'm sorry.  The joy of the trip had been mostly shattered.  Hannah was still excited that she'd been to her first movie,

{she requested a photo with this snowman}

but Jack and I were quiet.  Not talking.

Then tonight, at bedtime, I read the story he picked out, and he was upset that it felt too short.  I tried to explain that I need him to be grateful for what he has, instead of always wishing for things he doesn't have or that he still wants.

I started to sing him a song (like we do every night), and he actually stopped me to say that he didn't like that song.  My head nearly exploded.  It took everything I had not to get up and walk out of the room.  Instead I sang the song he requested, told him I loved him, and then left the room.

I know that they can't get everything they want.  And I'm aware that they usually do.  For some reason, when they're disappointed, I'm disappointed.  But I know that they can't get everything.  The problem is, when they don't, the reaction to that is so bad that it seems worse for everyone.

I want Jack and Hannah to have happy memories.  I try to plan fun, family things for us to do often.  But when, at the end of the day, we end with tears and unhappiness, none of it seems worth it.

So gratefulness is something we're working on.  Any suggestions?  Cause we could certainly use them.

2014

Really, it's very simple.  My new year's resolutions are never very shocking or original.

They're basic.  They don't change much from year to year.

I just want to be better.  To do better.

I want to be the best wife, mother, daughter, friend, teacher I can be.  That's it.

This year - I'm trying to focus on Patience.  Joy.  Consistency.  

Patience - I rush.  All the time.  I notice that I'm always rushing my kids.  I'm usually running late, and then I get stressed about being on time, and I rush everyone around me.  Tensions are always high before we actually get out the door.  This has to change.  Our children are little.  They are slow-moving.  I need to adapt.

Joy - I'm an anxious person.  I stress myself out over stupid, small things.  I get overwhelmed by the future, by schedules, by things to do.  I tend to focus on the negative or the tiny little thing that could have been a tad bit better, and it overshadows everything else. I need to choose joy.  To focus on the present and be happy.  One day at a time.

Consistency - I'm an inconsistent person.  I change my mind when the wind blows.  Or when an adorable child smiles or bats his/her eyelashes.  Or when a child whines or cries.  Namely, my children.  But other peoples' kids, too.  I don't like the whining or crying, so I cave.  And then it gets worse.  This is part of the reason our children are unruly, and I know this to be true.  I'm working on it.  Knowing is half the battle, and we're making changes.  What we say first, is what has to go.  

These are my goals.  So far, I still have a lot to work on.

Snow Days and Chilly Temps

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted.  Last week was the first, full week I worked since Winter Break, and it reminded me how exhausting it is to be a full-time teacher and a full-time mommy at the same time.  At the end of the day, as much as I want to keep up with the blog and tell our funny stories, my mind needs a break.  I enjoy writing, but it's work to bring it all together.  To get an idea, pull together photos, and write - it requires attention and focus.  Most nights I can barely get on my pajamas and climb into bed, let alone pull together a decent blog post.

Some of this revolves around the fact that Hannah is definitely two, and by this, I mean she has been testing us in the worst way since Christmas.  Dinner time is a nightly unpleasant experience - between picky-eater Jack and stubborn Hannah, it never goes well, and it's difficult to prepare a family dinner that you know is going to end in tears.  And some nights I'm worried it'll be our tears from sheer exhaustion and frustration.  Maybe it's okay to eat macaroni and cheese every night to avoid such antics?  We tend not to think so, but is the opposite worth it?

Anyway, when dinner is over and we clean up, it's time to get the kids ready for bed.  They're usually tired and we're usually rushed to get them to bed on time, and by the time we leave Jack's room with them all brushed, washed, read to, and tucked in, we have nothing left.  Maybe a few minutes on Pinterest or some mindless TV-watching before we fall asleep to do it all over again the next day.

I'm just saying it isn't easy...  We wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, don't get me wrong.  But it's the hardest kind of work.  To be on and kind and patient when inside your inner monologue is going crazy and wishing for just two minutes alone that don't involve going to the bathroom.

And then there's this week, where I haven't had to work a single day.  Which is nice.  In fact, I'm almost entirely caught up with my school work - just in time to start report cards:)  But it also means we've had a winter with lots of time together and inside.  I've worked a total of 8 days this month, so that means all the other days have been days when we're home together, and for the most part, inside because of the uncharacteristically cold weather.  And this comes directly after Winter Break, when we were home for two weeks together as well.  I've seen The Grinch approximately 243 times.  Poured numerous glasses of juice and opened millions of packets of fruit snacks.  We've existed solely on showering with the little lovelies (minus last week) to keep them clean and avoid bath night.  I've read the same stories over and over and over again.  And I'm going a little stir-crazy.  I'm just being honest.

So I've been AWOL on the blog because at the end of these crazy days, it seems like a little too much.  But I'm trying to get back into it - I have many things to share.  Funny stories and pictures and new year's resolutions.  I know, new year's resolutions the last week of January seems a little silly, but still.  I have them and I'm sharing.

Now excuse me while I go put on another cartoon and pour more glasses of juice.

I saw this post the other day - it's a good reminder.  Maybe it will bring you a new perspective as well.  I definitely needed it:)

Girl Time

Last night, Jack was really, really tired.  Like I'm going to cuddle up next to Mommy while we're watching TV and fall dead asleep tired.  

So tired that a little sister didn't even wake him up with her elbow (and consequently, tears) when she wanted to cuddle with Mommy, too.

So very tired, that I was able to carry him upstairs and put him in bed.  He woke up enough to roll over comfortably, and then he was out.  For the night.  My poor, little man.  So, so sleepy.

Hannah?  Not so tired.  And in desperate need for a bath.  So after we tucked Jack in, she and I came into our bathroom, and I started to run a bath.  Hannah decided she'd rather get in the shower, so I must have asked her if we could use the separate sprayer that we have for the kids.  This was an unacceptable plan.

When I told Hannah that I wasn't going to take a shower, she replied, "Yes, you is."

And I mean, really?  How do you say no to that?

So as much as I hate to take a shower at night and get all cold before bed, I pulled my hair up tight, and got in the shower with my little princess.  And I'm pretty sure the special one-on-one time made her evening.

Oh, how I love these little lovelies of ours!

For My Little Sister

On Thanksgiving, Dylan was given his first, impromptu, haircut.  And I'm not sure my sister was ready.

Uncle John?  Definitely ready.

The rest of us?  We were pretty ready, too.

But Rypie?

Not-so-much.

I can't remember if I cried during Jack's first haircut.  I remember that he cried.  And that they gave him a lollipop, and I took lots of pictures.  But I don't know if I cried - I think I was so proud of my little man, needing his first haircut.

My mom and I took him to Cartoon Cuts in the mall, and they gave me a little certificate with a lock of his hair that I will have for the rest of my life.

But I was ready.

And while Ryan thought she was ready, she was not.  BIG DIFFERENCE.

I took some pictures of this momentous occasion.  When the dust settles, and she's over Dylan's missing curls, she can look at the pictures and smile.  I hope.

Both grandparents had to hold Dylan still

Two toofers!

Hannah helped Dylan relax by holding his hand

I warned you

Proud Papa

Dylan looked so handsome.  Grammy did a good job.  And my little sister?  She pulled herself together:)

Now Hannah thinks she needs a haircut.  And that, my friends, is simply not happening.

No.

No.

This seems to be the only word in Hannah's vocabulary, which, in all honesty, is highly ironic since she almost never hears the word "no" spoken to her.

She looks so sweet and innocent right there.

But in reality?

Everything is, "No - I don't want to."

Everything.

Time to take a bath, time to go potty, time to change your pull-up, time to eat dinner, time to clean up our toys, time to _____ (fill-in-the-blank).

"No, I don't want to."

I can already tell our teenage years will be nothing but fun.  Somehow we've made the feistiest, sassiest, most strong-headed girl on the planet.

The other night we argued over going potty before bed for a good 10 minutes before I just gave up.  Any suggestions on how one might make someone else use the potty?  Time-out didn't work.  She went boneless.  She flailed around like a crazy person.  She continued to say, "No, I don't want to."  And as far as I can tell, I couldn't physically put her on the potty without hurting her or myself.  So she won.  And I was not happy.

Here's how she posed for her cubby picture at school:

Yep, that's our girl:)  She normally loves to have her picture taken, but since it was someone else's idea and not her own - this was the face she gave.

We see that face a million times a day.  Often followed by high-pitched squeals and screams - she threw  five tantrums today at the mall in the two hours we were there.  Five.  In public.

Joy.

*****

In other news...

We've known for awhile that Miss Hannah has some "junk in the trunk" if you know what I'm sayin'.  But lately, her teachers have noticed and commented as well on her cute, little body and the fact that her pants fit her so nicely except for the fact that they don't ever quite cover her tushy.  She's a 2T everywhere except her tushy - that's a 3T/4T, and I'm not exaggerating:)

*****

Tonight Hannah "read" her first book, Everyone Poops.  It was the cutest thing, and it's now my life's mission to get it on video.

We'll have to ask her permission to videotape first, of course.

Keep your fingers crossed;)

Goodbyes are never easy

It's been about a month since the puppies moved away.  Most days, we do pretty well.  The kiddos only ask about them now and then, and we've adjusted to life without dogs.

But every now and then, it's like a sucker-punch to the gut.

Brad's been traveling a lot for work, and I've been staying up late doing school work and finding my first grade bearings.  Yesterday, I was checking on the little lovelies, and I came back down the hall towards my room, when I caught myself looking forward to seeing my puppy dogs all curled up in their beds, snoring and sighing away.

And then I remembered that they were gone, and it made me cry.  Randomly, after a month, just standing in the middle of the upstairs hallway like, "Where in the world did that just come from?!"

I missed their smell.  Not the wet-dog smell or the bad puppy breath smell, but that warm, sleepy fur smell that was here when they slept next to my side of the bed.

I guess I got used to having the extra company when Brad was away, and now it's just so very quiet once Jack and Hannah are in bed.

I texted our friend Joe today to let him know to give them kisses from me, and he sent me this picture of Gracie-girl:

Isn't she just so perfectly beautiful?

Belle was in the picture, too, but she heard something as Joe snapped the picture, and she was off!  Sounds just like Belle!

When it's really hard and I miss the girls so much, I think about how Jack hasn't gotten blotchy in three weeks.  About how he rarely sneezes.  About how soon he'll be able to come off of his inhaler.

And I think, I can do this.

For that boy?  I would do anything.

*****

Also, while Hannah is loving her old school once again, she is not loving the policy of no binkies allowed in the two's room.  Mama's having a hard time, too, but I try not to let her see that.  Today, I hid her binky when I dropped her off, and when I picked her up, and she asked me for it, I told her I didn't know where it was.  That it went bye-bye because she was such a big girl, and she doesn't need it anymore.  She was very unhappy.

But eventually she got over it and started playing.  She asked me again before bedtime, and she cried a little when I put her down for the night, but everyone's right - it's time.  I know this.  I just hate to see that little girl sad.

She fell asleep after only a few short minutes.  I scurried around, found all the binkies and hid them away.  I cannot go backwards this time.  I cannot.

Please don't let me.

If fact, if someone could come over here and hide them from me, that would be wonderful.

Seriously.

Just don't throw them away.  At least not the pink one - I need it as a keepsake.

Mama Bear Has Spoken

It's been a tough couple of days, but we are here and we are happy.

Today, our babies returned to their former daycare.  After three weeks of trying to make it work and trying to help Hannah adjust, I decided that it just wasn't the place for us.  Hannah has never been more miserable, and in my mommy-gut, I was just not impressed.  In fact, I was completely underwhelmed.  And every day that I went in and Hannah still didn't have her name or her photo on her cubby made it worse.  When I dropped Hannah off Thursday morning, yet again not in her own classroom and with a teacher that she was unfamiliar with and didn't know her name, I made the decision to call our old school to see if they had space for our little lovelies.

Thank goodness, they did.

Within twenty-four hours, new job and all, I had pulled them out of their current school, prepared an emergency contact list for the change, emailed Jack's kindergarten teacher so she would be aware of where to send Jack after school, called the front office, packed their school materials, and had taken them back to where they belong.

When we walked in this morning, the teachers and staff cheered and welcomed us with open arms.  Free of charge today!

Hannah was upset when I left - I knew she would be.  Too much has been going on, and she doesn't feel settled.  And I get it.

But when I got there this afternoon?

She was smiling and playing outside with her friends.  Sans lovey and binky.  She had a wonderful day - ate her whole lunch and napped like a doll.  She is happy.

And Jack?  Jack was like a mini-celebrity when he got back to the school after kindergarten.

He and his "girlfriend" Lola were once again inseparable.

They are so happy.  And so am I.

My job?

I haven't worked this hard in years.  But like I said, I am happy.  I feel fulfilled - I am doing something that really matters to me.  I am surrounding myself with little ones who, for the most part, are eager to learn. I realize the weight of that responsibility, but it makes me feel good.

It's what I was meant to do.

I appreciate your patience while I find my bearings in a new job and new grade level:)

And when I'm not working?  I'm soaking up these little ones.  Forgive me.

First Day

Today was a big day.  And I have to write about it before I can sleep.  Because I want to remember it - it was that big.

Today was Jack's first day of kindergarten.

This morning, when I went in to wake Jack up, I sang him our good morning song, as usual, and snuggled up next to my little man.  I was rubbing his back and talking about what a big day it was for him.  And do you know what he said?  His first words today?  Barely a whisper, he said, "I'm scared." So I put on my brave face and told him there was nothing to be scared of and about all of the fun he would have.

Jack decided he would prefer that I drop him off at school rather than he ride the bus, so that's just what we did.  We dropped off Hannah Bear (who did slightly better today - no screaming, just teary-eyes!), and then we drove to Jack's new school.  I got out and gave him a hug, and he whispered that he was scared and couldn't remember where to go.  And as bravely as I could, I walked him to a complete stranger, explained that he was starting kindergarten and didn't know where to go, and before I knew it, he was whisked off to the building where teachers would help to guide him.  I called out to him, "I love you, Jack - have a good day!"

And just like that - he was gone.

I had no choice but to get in my car and drive away.

I cried the entire way to work.  But not in front of Jack.  

And my little man?  He didn't cry at all - he was so brave.

I simply could not have been more proud of him today.  My heart was just bursting at the seams.

He had a great day - he said it was awesome:)  He said they took a tour of the classroom and had circle time.  They talked about the weather and used straws to count the day of school.  He said they played on the playground and that he didn't cry when he got a little scrape on his ankle.  He said he loved the bus ride to his new daycare.  But that he doesn't want to ride the bus in the morning.  He said kindergarten is great, and I just couldn't be happier.

Today was a big day.  Indeed.

Hannah Bear

Last weekend, Jack and Hannah were jumping on our bed, and Hannah shouted out, "Here comes Hannah, I need you to move!" before belly-flopping onto the comforter.

*****

While I was trying to listen to one of Jack's stories, Hannah Bear was simultaneously asking me for a snack.  This is not unusual - there are many times a day where it just seems like they are both talking at me at the same time.  But this time, Hannah stuck her little hip out to the side and asked, "Are you listening to me?"

I'm just going to go ahead and admit that she got that from me.  There.  I said it.

*****

Hannah came up to me with her Doc McStuffins toy and said, "It's not working very well."  I was so impressed with her use of well instead of good that my jaw dropped.  I kissed her and told her how much I loved her.

She apparently wasn't satisfied because she repeated herself.

That's when I remembered that I'd turned the battery-operated toy off because I couldn't stand to hear that song one more time the other day.  So I "fixed it" for her, and off she went.

"It's not working very well."

How perfect is that?

*****

When Brad and I say, "I love you," to Hannah Bear, she says, "Okay."

*****

While playing on the floor next to Dylan, I heard Hannah say, "Don't get Hannah tootsies!"  I turned to find a Baby Dylan swiping at her little toes.  I think she was worried he might eat them:)

*****

It didn't take long.  I was holding Hannah after dinner last night, when she stuck her wet, sloppy finger into my ear and said, "Wet willy."  She was so proud of herself, and then...

"I get a quarter."

Brad and I had a good laugh about that one.

*****

This morning Hannah asked for Gracie and Belle.  When I reminded her that they were at their new home, she said, "I want them."

Ensue tears.  Mine, not hers.

"I know, Baby.  Me too.  But they are having such a good time at their new home."  All said while smiling like a crazy person.

And that was all.  She didn't bring it up again.

*****

 

Right now, Hannah seems to be in a phase where she inserts the word probably into most of her sentences.

I probably need help.

I probably need juice.

I probably want binky lovey. (This is actually how she says this: binky lovey, always together.)

*****

Hannah knows exactly when and how to soothe herself, by the way.  As soon as she's upset or disappointed or frustrated, she goes off in search of her binky lovey.  She also likes to fiddle with tags.  All of the tags on her lovies are super-soft from being rubbed by her tiny fingers for countless nights.  It's adorable, and I love it.

*****

{This is the best picture I took of Hannah this week.  She was trying out Jack's new Thor costume, and I think she liked it.}