Some Days Are, Well, Sh—Shambala

Hank Humor, Motherhood, We Are In This Together

Ahhh, motherhood. Literally there is no aspect of my life that I am more grateful for, than being a mama. 

But oh, does motherhood test our patience.

Toddlerdom, especially. And I have landed right smack dab in the thick of it. 

This morning, I woke up with my uterus HATING me. I would have given anything to stay home on the couch with a heating pad and a cup of coffee, but nope–this mama had a busy work day planned!

As I scrambled to get myself organized for work, I snuck upstairs to use the bathroom without a little helper. (When we have my stepsons home with us, I can’t use the main level bathroom at all, because our darling Hank loses his mind whenever I lock him out. We have a temporary open-door policy right now, simply because I have learned to pick my battles.)

Well. As soon as I got up there, peacefully seated; Hank the wonder toddler runs in, full-speed for the bathtub, and turns on the hot water full blast! Then he starts reaching for the water to splash in! 

So what’s a mama to do? I jumped up immediately and hopped–gunny-sack-race-style–over to the tub and turned the water back off, right as it was getting hot. I then hop-hop-hopped my way back over to the “potty”, so I could actually use it

But now I had a helper again, who was really intrigued by that whole hilarious exchange! I performed all the toilet paper tricks I could think of, to keep my little water-boy away from the tub for another minute or two. Thankfully, it worked.

Hmmm, I should go turn that on

I gave up on the idea of a shower. I threw on some clean clothes, ran a brush through my hair, and pulled a ponytail through a ballcap. 

More toddler craziness ensued. Breakfast went from the fried eggs and toast I wanted to yogurt-in-the-car, but I managed to throw together a lovely, balanced little lunch for the adorable monster.

Let’s just say that by the time I got a road-coffee poured, the monster dropped off and headed to work, I was wound up tighter than a corkscrew. I kept thinking over and over in my head how overwhelming this stage can be–at times–especially how I cannot even sneak away to use a bathroom in peace unless my cherub is dead asleep. 

Seriously. 

And the kicker: No one else in our family has that problem! Not daddy! Not the big brothers! Oh no; to everyone else, a bathroom break or a shower or bath is a lovely, private endeavor. With no time limit.

But for mamas–it turns out–it is a spectator sport!

(With a ticking time bomb that resets itself every time, so you better not dawdle, either, mama! Don’t even think about taking your smart phone in there with you–the one time I tried to catch up on my news feed in the bathroom with my toddler helper nearby, he put an end to that plan. How, you ask? By ninja-sneaking a hot wheels corvette right into the toilet. WHILE I WAS SITTING ON IT. Yep, I’ve replayed and replayed that one in my mind, and still wish I’d have seen that coming!)

So. 

I had a good therapeutic stress-cry on the drive in while I guzzled down coffee #2. (The cry was no-doubt related to the hormones that caused the PMS that caused the bathroom incident to make me cry.)

I hammered out a few hours of work, which felt a little bit like a vacation (?) and when I hopped back in the car to head home, my entire perspective suddenly changed at the sound of one strangely familiar guitar riff. 

I cranked the volume up when I recognized the song–Shambala! Three Dog Night. 

I laughed out loud, and immediately thought of my best friend, which put a huge smile on my face for the first time all day! Shambala used to be her ringtone! And it was exactly the uplifting message of love and light I needed to pull myself out of the funk I was in!

Wash away my worries, wash away my pain, with the rain in Shambala. . .

(If you haven’t heard it, listen here. It’s great!)

All afternoon since I heard it, I have been singing the high refrain in my head on repeat (Howwwwwww does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala. . .) and it made me think about my own light. 

Here I was again, letting my light get dimmed by the everyday, totally normal, stress and craziness of motherhood.

I don’t need to run away to some mythical, peaceful paradise (the true meaning of ‘Shambhala’ in sanskrit) for my light to shine. (Even though at times, I would like to!) 

I just need to hum this song in my head, because it is ridiculously joyful and pulls me right back to where I need to be. Smiling and laughing. Right on through, both the sunshine AND the shit-storms.

So even on days that seem (literally!) downright shitty (thank you, toddler bathroom help!), do what I will be doing, and think of Shambala. Hum it in your head, and wear those flowers in your hair–in your mind!–my stressed-out sisters. 

Because this too shall pass. Some day, my husband assures me, toddlers eventually do decide that mama can be in a bathroom with a closed door. Without them in it.

I hope he’s right!

Lastly. If you do have a shit day, you hum that happy, hippy song, but you still aren’t quite feeling that peaceful, mystical paradise? Crack a good wine then, too. Because whenever good music can’t get me out of a funk, a glass of good red can.

You’ve earned it, mama. 

(And some days just call for Shhhh-Shiraz!)

😉

To the moon and back. Even through the shit-storms, little boy 💙

I Could Not Have Been More Wrong About Sleep Training

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood, Step by Step, We Are In This Together

HANK

I have a hilarious, chubby blonde cherub of a son, who is 19 months old.

Being that little boy’s mama has been one of the biggest blessings in my life. Motherhood has made me more patient, more understanding, exponentially more grateful, and it has simply made life more meaningful.

It has also made me really, REALLY TIRED.

(Hence, the blog.)

The constant tiredness of motherhood surprised me–even though I had been warned! I thought Hank’s daddy and I would be such a great team for this whole parenting thing, that we would just take it all in stride. In marrying him, I had married a boy-dad extraordinaire, who already three amazingly-well-behaved sons on his resume. And while I was new to mamahood, I wasn’t totally clueless–I mean, I do hold a Masters in Elementary Ed so that had to count as somewhat of a prerequisite for parenting, right? I can teach, therefore I can certainly parent. Right? Ha. Not exactly! Teaching taught me a lot about kids, but it definitely didn’t teach me anything about how to get them to sleep well!

For the first year and a half, we had a very sweet, very well-behaved baby who slept well-enough, but not great. I was good with it; I mostly chalked it up to nursing him for over a year, even in the night. Was he using me as a pacifier? Probably. But I loved that middle of the night cuddle time, so I didn’t mind those wake-ups! Once I finally night weaned him, I still got up once or twice with him every night, and cuddled him til he zonked out again, because it worked. It didn’t take too long, and he didn’t cry that way. It worked for him and it worked for us, so that’s what we did. The path of least resistance.

Even though I was constantly tired from all the interrupted sleep, the hubs often reminded me how much worse things could be, since Hank always did go back to sleep pretty easily in the night. He had plenty of memories of almost NEVER sleeping with his first-born (who had acid reflux issues) so I figured he was right. We were simply dealing with normal parenting tiredness, and I just needed to drink more coffee! Suck it up, buttercup!

AND THEN. . . CHAOS

Enter holidays, 2016. Between his big brothers bouncing back and forth every other day to accommodate two households’ holiday/work schedules, discovering the magic of SANTA, and being cooped up inside thanks to two feet of snow and sub-zero temperatures–let’s just say our “normal” schedule went a bit haywire.

Sleep became pretty nonexistent in our household, from before Christmas right on up into 2017. The snuggles in the chair that normally put our little boy right to sleep (or almost to sleep) just quit working. He slept in fitful stretches and only wanted to snuggle, but wouldn’t even fall asleep on us anymore. Getting him in the crib meant a major fight every single time. We tried letting him cry after we were sure all his other needs were met and he had no fever, but without a firm plan we weren’t getting anywhere except more frustrated. I finally broke down and told the hubs I wanted to–at very least–look into some sleep consulting.

Thankfully, he agreed. (He was tired, too!)

Must. Make. Coffee.

CUE THE EXPERT

Well, lucky for me, I have a dear friend from high school who just happens to be a sleep consultant. AND-she happens to be a mama herself, to little ones who SLEEP WELL.

I wanted to get me some of that! So I swallowed my pride and asked for help. And only one week later, I can tell you that it was by far, the BEST parenting decision I have ever made. If you are reading this, and if you are even somewhat considering sleep training your child/children/future children, please keep reading. I want to share some of the most surprising things I discovered when we sleep trained Hank.

  1. My biggest surprise of all: Even after our worst night which included some serious crying, he did not hate me in the morning! Not even a little bit! On the contrary, my morning cuddle-time with Hank has become my very favorite time of day. He wakes up happy, rested, and proud of himself for sleeping well. We definitely make up for those late night snuggles in the daytime now, and I enjoy them so much more now than I did zombie-style at 3 a.m. (Wishing I was asleep in my bed, and then feeling guilty about that!)
  2. I didn’t have to let him “Cry-It-Out” nearly as long as I thought I would. (Or as many times throughout the night as I thought it would take, either.) I think it is somewhat like ripping off a band-aid; once you decide to do it, it hurts most right when you start, but if you just get it over with it is not as bad as you thought it would be! The anxiety I had about letting him Cry-It-Out was worse than actually letting him do it. Once that first difficult night was over, it got much easier, (on all of us) much faster than I expected it would.
  3. His overall mood has improved! I thought I had a pretty well-rested, happy toddler before; but now that I have seen Hank-on-Sleep, I almost don’t even recognize him! Hello, happy Hank!
  4. I still can’t believe how simple bedtime has become. I never dreamed I would be able to lay him down in his crib–completely awake–and cover him up with a blanket, tell him I love him and goodnight, and walk out, without so much as a peep. He actually goes TO SLEEP. Within minutes.  *Amazing*
  5. And lastly: Today, for the first time ever, Hank actually told me he wanted to get in his crib and lie down. During our pre-nap snuggles in the lazy-boy, he pointed at his crib and sighed a sleepy, adorable sound. “You want to lie down in your crib now?” I asked him, and he nodded his head. So? I carried him over, tucked him in, and he napped for over an hour, with NO CRYING. Yep. It was pretty much his idea. For the first time ever. Mind = Blown.

So–I am thrilled to recount our experience and brag up my amazingly helpful sleep consultant, because I know there are so many tired mamas just like me out there, who are too stubborn (sheepishly raising my own hand here) or too scared or too paranoid or too embarrassed or too whatever to give sleep training a try. I know. I read all those scary articles too. I googled everything I heard on the subject, too. I read both sides, and we chose to stay firmly planted on what-we-knew-worked-well-enough, until it just didn’t work any longer. Now that we finally gave it an honest chance, I am kicking myself for not doing it sooner!

I now have my evenings back, for me-time, or hang with the hubs-time, or bubble bath with a good book and a glass of wine-time. Anything but collapse into bed exhausted (because I know he will be up soon) time.

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I even had enough energy at night to stay up and sew Hank some special ‘Digger’ curtains, to make his room dark–as instructed!

Thank goodness we finally consulted with an expert on sleep. And to any of you other tired mamas out there–I hope you do too, if you need some guidance. Don’t go down with the sinking ship. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, when your kid just won’t sleep, believe me. I know firsthand.

Oh and that amazing sleep consultant I keep talking about? You can find her here:

SlumberBaby

Jenni is simply amazing. Like change your life amazing. She is my sleep savior, and my entire family is functioning better than we ever have, thanks to her wisdom and guidance.

(BTW–It doesn’t matter where you live, either, she got us lined out entirely by email! Awesome, right? And amazingly do-able. She found a plan that worked for us and it truly did work for us!)

Sweet dreams, Tired Mamas!

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I can sleep 11 hours straight, can you do that?

 

 

His Dig Dreams Are Big Dreams

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood

Most little boys go to bed with a teddy bear, a tattered blue blankey, or a lovey they have carried around for months. I have offered all of these options to our little man, but he simply isn’t interested.

I guess you could say that Hank has a “lovey”, but his lovey is no cuddly puppy or bear. Hank’s lovey is a digger. And no, not the nice soft stuffed excavator that goes along with his Good Night, Good Night, Construction Site book. Oh, no. Hank goes to sleep at night with a death-grip on a cold, metal skid-steer he affectionately calls “dig-dig.”

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Dig-dig and Tractor

You see, our little boy has a love–an obsession, really–for heavy equipment of all kinds. It runs in the family, and he gets to foster his love often; thanks to the good luck that landed him on a Montana farm. Hank bounced around in a dump truck when he was still bouncing around in my tummy; and his affinity for that big huge truck seemed to be born into him from day one.

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Digger and Dump Truck

There are days I’m convinced that Hank has hydraulic fluid running through his veins!

Hank’s grandpa owned and ran a heavy equipment dealership for many years before “retiring” as a farmer, and Hank’s daddy sold/rented heavy equipment as well. Both of them can run anything. (And run it well.)

Hank doesn’t just get his love for running equipment from the men in his family tree, though–he also gets a little of it from his mama.

I was lucky enough to grow up on that same Montana farm, with that equipment-loving father who figured both of his kids might as well learn how to run everything on the farm. My big brother and I ran skid steers as soon as we could reach the pedals, and before we could reach them we rode along with dad, seat-belted onto his lap, like Hank does now.

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Moving Dirt with Gramps

I’m willing to bet that one day, my little digger-man will end up in the construction industry running something, and I am already behind him on that 100%. I don’t feel the need to push him to shoot for an Ivy League school, or to encourage him to be a doctor or a lawyer. I see how happy that little boy is when he is digging dirt or hauling gravel, and that’s plenty good enough for me!

It helps that I also see how happy his grandpa is–digging dirt or hauling gravel–and I know that it may simply be in their programming. I will encourage Hank to follow his dreams, whether they include construction or not, but I will thoroughly enjoy the fact that they do, right now.

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Motor Grading with Daddy

I will let him bring dig-dig to every meal with him as he insists on doing, currently. I will let him scoop up peaches with the bucket of that darn toy, and even let him use it as a spoon now and again. (What little boy doesn’t want to scoop food into his mouth with a bobcat bucket?)

I will let him sit on my lap as we read Diggers Go three times in a row before every nap-time and bed-time, and I will do my best to make the right sounds. And I will let him wear his equipment PJs more than any of the others, because of course, they’re his favorites.

I will do my best to keep a mental note of where each piece of equipment gets left around the house throughout the day, because Hank can’t quite keep track of them all yet.

I will keep handing him off to dad or grandpa; whoever happens to be running something that day.

And most importantly; I will keep letting him go to bed with dig-dig. Because to some little boys, dreams of diggers are much more magical than dreams about anything else.

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Excavator Operator

Traveling Husband Survival: Coffee, Wine, and Satire

Motherhood, We Are In This Together

Well, as the hubs heads off for a few days of work in sunny Austin, I am gearing up to survive my three days of married-single-parenting a cooped-up toddler. (Thank you, freezing Montana winter.)

Good red wine and extra coffee have been purchased. . .and some satire therapy was in order!! 

Here are 5 Ways Traveling Husbands Are The Best Thing Ever When You Have Kids

(In case you were wondering.)

They are. Just ask me. Anyways, go have a quick laugh at my expense, and enjoy the other hilarity on MockMom (the satirical little corner of Sammiches and Psych Meds that I love so much). Now go!

Enjoy!

Hurry home, honey!

Puzzle Pieces

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood, Step by Step, We Are In This Together

 

My little boy, Hank, has three heroes: his three big brothers. When they are with us, they throw balls with him and dive onto pillow piles and build endless towers to knock down. They make him laugh like neither their daddy or I ever can. He idolizes them; he wants to be just like them.

There is an electric charge in the air on the days when daddy arrives with Hank’s three big brothers in tow. He can sense when they are coming, and he can hardly contain his excitement. The door barely clicks open and he is running to the top of the stairs, squealing; racing to get to them. 

His puzzle is complete on the days we have the boys; all the pieces of our family are in place and his world looks as it should.

But three days later the puzzle falls apart; three major pieces of it suddenly go missing, and he has to try to make sense of it in a one-and-a-half year-old brain which knows nothing of parenting plans or shared custody. Nothing of divorce, or of real mamas and step-mamas. I am sure he thinks I am his brothers’ mama too—why wouldn’t I be?

“We”—our six-pack—is all he has ever known. I do not look forward to the day I have to explain things like divorce to my precious boy. Explain why his brothers have another mama; how it’s not me. Why they have another home, too, on the other side of town, or why he will go to a different school than they do.

I don’t know how to explain why some mamas and daddies don’t speak to each other, even though they share the same children.

And most of all, I worry about explaining why his big brothers have to leave us for half of every week. Because before he can truly understand, he won’t understand, and I know there will be tears.

I don’t want him to be heartbroken half of every week, his best friends in the world lost to him again. I know it is coming. I can already see the gears turning in that precious little head, wondering; the start of the dissonance.

Lately on the days without his brothers around, his little lip trembles when he sees their pictures. He runs into their rooms, just to check.

We will see them soon, sweetheart, I tell him, soon.

Hank’s big brothers have huge hearts buried under their tough exteriors. They play and wrestle and high-five and cuddle and pick up and carry and comfort their little brother. I know they miss him, too, when they are away.

They don’t treat him any differently because I am not their mama, too. They love him just like they love each other, even though they don’t say it.

Hank has no place in one of their two worlds, but they live for him in our world. They amaze me every day with their maturity and compassion. Their resilience as they bounce between lives; their acceptance of their new family.

When daddy loads them up to take them back to their mama’s house, Hank stands in the doorway waving his special wave. He opens and closes his little fist to each of them, saying I Love You, even though the words don’t come out yet.

His big brothers answer him with the same wave, their code, their secret send-off. The words don’t come out of their mouths, either.

But they don’t have to. He knows.

 

Originally posted on Tribe Magazine at: http://thetribemagazine.com/puzzle-pieces/#ixzz4OodjbHiL

Best Buds

Bookends

Putting the Devices Down: How Un-Plugging Tuned Me Back In To My Family

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood, We Are In This Together

Even though I have a lot crammed into my 24/7, I adore my crazy life. I am a mama of a toddler, stepmama to three older boys, wife to their amazing daddy, and manager of a large commercial building. Whenever I have free time (we’ll get to that later) I love to write.

The one thing that has allowed me to keep so many irons in the fire (aside from my own amazing mama who babysits for me) is technology. I wouldn’t be able to do half the things I do in a day if I didn’t have wireless internet, a smart phone, a Chromebook, and my Google Drive.

I have the luxury of working from home when I need to, answering emails as soon as they hit my inbox; writing leases and setting up showings right along with cooking meals. I am a working mama who sometimes stays at home, or a stay-at-home-mama who also works. However you want to look at it. I guess you could call me a “Hybrid” Mom. Basically, I am just very blessed to have the best of both worlds.

Whenever I am caught up at work, and the kids are fed and entertained (or sleeping!) I write. I write to keep my head clear, my stress level low, and my blessings in the forefront of my mind. And these days, even my writing happens online; it is much easier for me to write on a device than to carry around a notebook and a pencil all day long to record those spur-of-the-moment random thoughts.

But here’s the thing.

Some days it seems like I spend more time looking at screens than I do looking into the little blue eyes I live and work so hard for.

I find myself saying “please hang on, mama’s trying to finish an email” or “one second, honey” or “mama has to make a phone call first.”

To make matters worse, now that my baby has hit toddlerdom, motherhood has shifted from pretty much all-encompassing to FULL-TIME HANDS-ON. I have been so busy that lately my morning coffee time with my husband has become my best time for an online check-in.

So when that dear husband of mine asked me if I NEEDED to be online the other morning, I asked him what he meant. He spoke his heart: He missed our mornings of coffee and visiting and watching Hank dance to Baby First and laughing while he bounced back and forth between us for bites of our coffee-cakes. Together. I was there, but I wasn’t there. I was off in cyberland.

It was a definite wake-up call.

So? I woke up.

I snapped the chromebook closed, grabbed my coffee, and tuned back into the blessings that I was missing. Right in front of my face.

All that day, I thought about my online work and social media habits. I thought about how present I was being when I wasn’t at the office. I thought about how much time I spend working on my various devices throughout the day and evening, and decided it was simply too much.

Do I really need to share my latest post right then, during my best quality time with my husband?

Do I really need to reply to every comment on my social media accounts, right when my phone buzzes?

Do I need to waste precious time (and these days, my time is precious) scrolling through pages of ridiculous political memes on Facebook?

Do I need to answer every work call or email the second that I get it, on days when I am not in the office?

Nope. I sure don’t.

Not right now.

Right now all I need to do is be one little boy’s amazing mama, one husband’s loving wife, and three boys’ supportive stepmom.

So I am putting down my devices. As often as I can.

Even more importantly, I am also choosing to LEAVE it down, in my car. I don’t know about the rest of you busy gals, but I am 100% guilty of checking my email quickly or texting to check on the baby from the road, and I know that needs to stop. I am never SO BUSY that I need to be plugged-in while driving. 

I am putting down the device.

I am vowing to be more present as a wife and as a mother.

I am vowing to be a completely safe, focused driver.

Facebook can wait.

Email can wait.

The blog can wait.

My family shouldn’t have to.

As if I wasn’t already convinced, my wise young toddler cemented my decision with what I think was a sign from above. Yesterday morning, while I was down on the rug playing cars with him, daddy went upstairs for a refill on his coffee. Hank saw me grab my phone to steal a quick glance at my news feed. I didn’t even think to grab my half-empty cappuccino that was sitting on the end table behind me, getting cold.

As soon as I swiped the screen on my phone, I felt a strange sensation begin at my left shoulder and spread all across my lap. In that brief moment when my brain was online, my entire criss-cross apple-sauce got completely covered in lukewarm coffee and perfectly foamed milk. I slowly turned to look behind me–in shock–and saw my adorable toddler sheepishly holding my big green mug. My big green EMPTY mug.

Well, that sure showed me, didn’t it!

I don’t know whether he intended to bring me my coffee as a sweet gesture, or to pour it on me to say “put the phone down, mama!”

From the look on his face, I’m guessing it was the latter.

So after I changed my clothes and spot-cleaned the rug, I took the hint. I put the device down.

Today, our morning coffee time was technology-free.

And it was lovely.

He’s so much better to look at than a screen!

Killing It as Parents

Motherhood, We Are In This Together

My hubs and I, we are not perfect. But we sure do try.

Friday night was one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants kind of nights. A sick (teething) baby, errands to run after work, a birthday party to get ready for the next day, etc.

Attempting all of the above with the sick baby quickly deteriorated into a CRABBY baby situation, so we decided to divide and conquer.

Hubby dropped me and the poor lil one off at home, then headed back into town to finish the grocery shopping. I went in to try to soothe Hankers with some fruit and baby advil, but when I grabbed the box with the new bottle, I panicked.

On my way home from work that afternoon, I was in a hurry, and I had accidentally grabbed children’s advil, not infant!!! I immediately called up daddio, the math genius of the family, to try to figure out how to convert?/titrate? the big-kid medicine into little-one dosage.

Let me just say this: trying to compare Mgs per mLs, on two different ratios, over the phone with a husband who is driving, while both trying to use the phones we are talking on as calculators, is as hard as it sounds. And of course, the small print for dosage for 24 months and under simply said “call your doctor.” Which reinforced my fear that I might get this important calculation wrong. So I gave up. I told him to just go ahead and pick me up a few bottles of the RIGHT MEDICINE!

Which, he did, after turning back around once he realized (halfway to the store) that his wallet was still in his pickup, at home. Grrr.  (I hate when I do that, too.)

We. Are. Awesome.

Pretty much NAILING IT!!

Parenthood can be hard. But–when you get to do it everyday with your best friend, with adorable little cherubs running around creating mayhem all around you, that you love so much your heart almost bursts open just looking at them–the hard parts really don’t even matter.

Even when you want to scream, or pull your hair out. (Or when the little darling does scream, and pull your hair out, for you.)

Even when the same little darling dumps a whole bowl of rice crispies all over your lap, on the couch. (Yeah there was that, too.)

Luckily, there was a silver lining. By the time daddy finally got back with the groceries, there was a hot breakfast-for-dinner coming right off the stove, which hasn’t happened in a loooooong time (me actually cooking him a hot meal, that is).

We divided, and we conquered. And then we had a lovely dinner together for about ten minutes until the baby decided it was playtime again. Yet again, we divided and conquered–daddy entertained jr. bacon cheeseburger while I cleaned up the kitchen, and then it was bedtime. Glorious bedtime. For the baby, and then immediately thereafter, for his tired mama.

Do you know what goes surprisingly well with breakfast-for-dinner?

Seven deadly zins.

Truth 🙂

Try it sometime. Especially on one of those kind of days!

Open the Gates!

Motherhood

Help us, Lord. 

We took down the baby gates today. Now, we have THREE flights of stairs, which are fully accessible to the crazy toddler they were off limits to for the last seven months. 

Needless to say, this mama is FREAKED.

On two counts:

1) What if he forgets to scoot scoot scoot like we have worked so hard on, and tumbles down the entire staircase; and 

2) When did my baby boy become such a BOY, he no longer needs a baby gate???

I am so not ready for this.

The hubs repurposed one of the gates into a fireplace guard, so we technically aren’t 100% free of them. I guess I should rejoice in that. He is still baby enough to not be trusted around the fireplace, (which he can now reach just fine even over the hearth, thanks to his 90th percentile for height–ahhhhh!).

But–there is one upside to all of this.

I cannot wait to bring home my first carload of groceries now that I have a clear path from the garage door to the kitchen! Hauling bags through two gates AND stairs with a toddler “helping” was never one of my favorite mom chores!

Onward and upward! Literally  🙂

Here we are again, HELPING