Mother's Day

Do you ever have one of those days where you just think you are the luckiest woman in the world? I know that it is hard most days- with coordinating schedules, demanding jobs, teething toddlers, and a laundry pile so big that I swear it is growing on its own... but sometimes I stop to realize that the existence of those things are exactly the reason that I am lucky. People to love, a home to care for them in, and jobs to provide enough underwear to put off doing laundry one week. Yesterday, Mother's Day, was one of those days when I couldn't help but be thankful for this crazy life.

Although it was my second mother's day, it still didn't seem real that I was among those that we celebrated yesterday. Isn't this my mom and grandma's day? But as we woke up to Marin's little coos over the monitor and then the "ma-ma-ma-ma's" I was reminded in the greatest way, the reason I celebrate mother's day. Early that morning we snuggled in our jammies together and I thanked her for being the little miracle that made me a mommy. Then Jason pointed out that technically, he's the one who made me a mommy. Luckily Marin's too young to question this.

Jason and Marin made me homemade waffles for breakfast, and then presented me with a gorgeous wooden bench for the backyard. I am already dreaming about reading books in the shady nook in our yard, perfectly suited for my bench. After Mass, where Marin was thankfully very well behaved for about 98% of the time (and screamed bloody murder the other 2%), we headed to my parents house for dinner with them, my grandparents, Jake and Katy and Lindsay. Jake and Katy filled in Jason's gaps and presented me with my baby bling- a blue raspberry ring pop and the world's largest candy necklace. I wasted no time getting starting in on those bad boys.

It was a quiet and beautiful day of celebrating the mother's in our lives and remembering those that are no longer with us. A lot of our house projects were put on hold, schedules were minimal, and although, the laundry did not wash itself, I feel lucky to have slobber stains to scrub and baby bibs to fold. They are signs of a mother.

Marin's First Babysitter!

This past Friday night Marin had her first (non family) babysitter. (I've taken the liberty of considering Molly and Brian, family).

Meet Caleigh: Sweet as can be, good Catholic school girl, has prior babysitting experience, and has had an excellent babysitting example: me. Yep. Me. I'm old enough to have changed my babysitter's diapers.

So when Caleigh said she was interested in babysitting for me- first I gulped that she was old enough, then I checked myself for wrinkles, and then I jumped on it!

Friday night, Jason and I went to a benefit that my dad participated in called, 60 Men Who Cook. My dad made delicious Red Velvet Cake and if you ask me, he was a shoe in for the grand prize. We were robbed though by some high school kids with a culinary interest that everyone thought was cute. Whatever kids. In any case, it's all for a good cause.

Before we left Caleigh and an on-her-second-dinner Marin, we explained the ropes. We left her a credit card to order dinner, and showed her how to work the DVD player. We showed her Marin's room and about what time she should put her to bed. We told her to have a good time. Relax, have fun. Don't worry about a thing. "There is one thing", we told her. We said that Norah would normally be okay to not have to go out until we got home, but since she was there, she may take advantage of her and want to go out. Either way, we said, there's a leash by the back door. What we forgot to tell her was that the back door locks automatically. Woops.

So let's set poor Caleigh's scene for you: Marin is in bed asleep (thankfully). She probably has her movie on pause and her pizza on the way. She's all settled in. Maybe she's about to get caught up on some homework. But suddenly she's locked out of a house she's never been to with an overly excitable 50 pound boxer, while a baby that she just met is barely asleep upstairs. Her cell phone and the house phone are of course locked inside right next to our "in case of emergency" numbers. Caleigh checks the front door and even the front window but the place is locked up like fort knox, because my mom has set the fear of God in me that someone with an axe or a butcher knife is just a second away at any given time after dark.

What to do? Caleigh (and the dog) go to the neighbors house. No one's home. She tries the other neighbor. Whew. They're home. That neighbor gets creative and decides to get his ladder out and bring it over to our house, climb on the roof and hope a random door in our upstairs bathroom (doesn't everyone have a door in their bathroom) is unlocked. Luckily, he found one that slipped past my mom's checklist. It was unlocked. He went in the door, and down the stairs and to the back to let Caleigh and the dog, back inside the house where I'm sure they both breathed a major sigh of relief. Of course it was the first time we had the neighbor over. Not exactly the dinner invitation he was perhaps expecting. Lucky for us, he was close to the previous owner, and was familiar with the layout of our house. Marin, of course, slept right through all this. Does this mean we can leave her home alone more often? (Only kidding.)

Jason and I were really impressed with how Caleigh handled herself. She didn't freak out like I definitely would have done. She didn't call the cops, like I definitely would have considered. And she didn't throw huge rocks at the window until it broke, like I would have definitely wanted to do. Look at that, little Caleigh is all grown up. When we got home later that night she told us that there was a little "situation".

So Marin's first babysitter experience was not without drama. But what have we learned? We learned that Marin can sleep through a breaking and entering. We have learned that we have a great babysitter on hand. And we learned to leave said babysitter with a house key.

From there, is should all be a piece of red velvet cake.

Is There Anything Better....

... than listening to your husband give your baby a bath?

... than a sleepy child snuggled on your lap reading a book?

... than your child running into your arms at the end of the day?

... than sleeping in just 15 minutes later than normal?

... than the look on your child's face that tells you they think you are fascinating?

... than planting flowers and watching your child smell them?

... than watching your child discover... and remember?

... than seeing the world through your child's eyes for the first time?

... than baby hugs and kisses?

... than knowing your baby has a great dad?

... than your baby snuggled into the crook of your neck?

... than your child's laugh?
... than being called, "Mommy"?

... than sitting at the same table with your grandma, mom and little girl?

... than your family?

Happy Mother's Day! May today be a day full of moments that can't get any better.

Green Lake 2010!

Last weekend we hit the open road once again, for a short trip to Green Lake, Wisconsin.

Our friends, Abby and Jeff, invited Erica, Craig, Jason and me to Abby's parent's amazing lake home for the weekend. Craig said it best when he walked in to the amazingly bright space with huge floor to ceiling doors expanding the wall, over looking the lake, and asked, "Aren't lake homes supposed to have wood paneling?!" There was no wood panelling to be found at this lake home; it was beautiful from top to bottom; corner to corner!

The home was also perfect for the kids. Marin was in her glory, having two boys at her disposal. Kai and CJ are 9 and 10 months respectively, and Marin loved giving them hugs, playing with their toys, and trying to teach Kai how to each a banana (read: she shoved it in his face). The whole main floor was a big open space; perfect for Marin to run around and allow us to keep an eye on her at the same time. Daredevil that she is wanted to walk down every single stair on her own down to the water, and did not want to hold my hand on the dock. Wouldn't you know that she walked right up to the very edge of the dock and pointed to the water and the rocks below as if she were staring at a bed of feathers with a helmet and a safety net. I know I have said it before, but it continues to become clearer and clearer- that girl is truly fearless!

The fresh air must have been good for Marin, Kai and CJ, because they all went to bed without even a moments fuss. And then the six of us parents made a delicious dinner together, popped the cork on a few bottles of wine, and laughed for hours. After dinner, Jason flexed his Eagle Scout skills and we sat around a roaring outdoor fire with the moon and the stars as a backdrop, and listened to the water hit the rocky shore. Erica and I agreed there is little that is more relaxing. Of course, with the banter between boys, two of whom were roommates, the conversation wasn't exactly zen-like, but that was probably most of the reason why we laughed so hard. We commented a few times that the neighbors must have wondered what the commotion was all about. Six grown adults, a cooler full of beer and a baby monitor by a fire... and the words "fart" and "wood" were said more times than I could keep track... now there's the start of a good joke! But hey, we're parents, they are the worst words we can get away with these days- even after the kids are asleep.

The next morning we all made an enormous breakfast-- homemade coffee cake, cinnamon rolls, eggs, pancakes, fruit, bacon, english muffins... our eyes were definitely bigger than our stomachs. Except that I still managed to sample almost everything. Delicious! Who doesn't love a big breakfast?! Marin was thrilled to have the chance to play with CJ and Kai again the next day, and delighted that the occasion supplied pancakes! Jason threw his fishing pole in the water, but proved his fire-making skills to be sharper than his fishing skills.

Abby, Erica and I marveled at the fact that our children will be in the same class someday. That we'll all sit teary-eyed at the same graduations. And afterward, I'll undoubtedly tell the story about the time that Marin gave CJ a bear hug that nearly knocked him over, or when she gave Kai a kiss with her yogurt mouth. They're all sure to roll their eyes and dodge me for the rest of the day. But it's okay. After all, is there really anything better than having the opportunity to make these memories with our children? I say, if there weren't stories to tell for them to roll their eyes at later in life, then maybe we haven't let them run around naked enough.

Thanks Abby and Jeff! We'll be back... as long as it's okay with your neighbors! :)

(Note: All the "good pictures" are Erica's :))

How To Tuesday....

Since yesterday was Mom Monday, I decided to call today How To Tuesday. I hope you never actually need the following instructions, as was the horrible case with me yesterday afternoon.

How To.... Survive the situation of walking in the door with your one year old toddler to find your dog and your home covered in feces:

Step One: It's okay, go ahead and scream in disgust a little bit. It's gross and it's okay to make that known.

Step Two: Call your husband in a panic. He won't be able to do anything, but it is always better to alert him of the chaos he is missing while peacefully reading ESPN on the train on his way home from work.

Step Three: Decide not to move out. You. can. do this!

Step Four: Get the dirty dog outside so she stops trampling all over it and spreading it around more. Bathe her later. No time for that now; the whole house smells a combination of vomit, poop and the bile you just spit up in your mouth at the sight of it all.

Step Five: Secure the baby behind the baby gate right before she begins to smear the poop like she does her yogurt.

Step Six: Set the baby up with books for a distraction. Make this sound as exciting an adventure as meeting Cinderella at the Disney Parade!

Step Seven: Open all the windows and doors in the house to air it out. Wonder if anything has ever smelled worse. Pray it hasn't already embedded itself on your couch. Oh God... the couch. Check the couch for poop. Breathe a sigh of relief that it was spared.

Step Eight: Change clothes into something you can later burn. Find those plastic cleaning gloves that come up to your elbows. Consider clipping your nose shut with clothes pin.

Step Nine: Scrub. Scrub again just in case. Disinfect. Throw the poop in the yard to be later disposed of properly. Hose down anything within in 15 foot radius. Disinfect again.

Step Ten: Don't you dare take your shoes off. You can't be quite sure you aren't standing in it until you have scrubbed and disinfected at least three times.

Step Eleven: Sing every children's song to your now distracted, distraught, wants-to-play-with-her-mommy-because-she-has-been-at-work-all-day child to stop her from crying, while you clean up more poop, urine and vomit.

Step Twelve: Continue saying, "One minute sweetheart, Mommy just has to clean this last bit up. Norah made a mess, didn't she!", in a happy cheery, everything is perfectly wonderful, voice.

Step Thirteen: Is that poop on your hand?!!? You bet the dog's smell ass it is! All bets are off. Tell the still crying, "ma-ma-ma-ma"ing baby, "Honey, Mommy is doing the best she can! Please be patient!"

Step Fourteen: Play a quick game of peek-a-boo over the baby gate as an attempt to wash away your mommy guilt for losing your patience with a helpless one year old trapped behind a gate she can't see over, trying to get to her mommy.

Step Fifteen: Note the now agitated dog in the yard, and the increasing irritation in the baby. Decide you've done all you can do for now. Leave the last little out of the way bit for hubby who will be home in a few minutes. Think: "Ha. Not being here didn't spare you after all." Wipe the smile off your face.

Step Sixteen: Wash you hands and arms and knees 12 times. Then once more. Scoop baby up. Thank her for being patient. Take her outside (it still smells too badly in the house). Lay in the (unpooped on) grass and let her play with your hair. Ah, life is good.

Step Seventeen: Husband is home. Hand him a bucket. Give him a kiss for good measure.

Step Eighteen: Pour yourself and the hubs a glass of wine. Drink and repeat.

Mom Monday!

I wanted to share something that I am very excited about. I have been featured on Kolcraft's Baby Matters Blog! Emilie works for Kolcraft and she referred me to Michelle, the blog's author for their 5 Mom Monday's series. It kicked off today with me. What? That's right. I'm as shocked as you, that someone cares about what I have to say.

Huge thanks to Emilie and Michelle! I may have never been more excited about anything, ever. Well, except Marin being born. And meeting Jason. And our wedding day. And getting that pesky grass stain out of Marin's new pants. But you get the idea. I'm REALLY excited!

So click this link and pop on over to read about a mom you know! :)

PS- Aren't the pictures pretty? All props to the photographer, Erica. She's going pro, so you can have pictures this pretty too! Let me know if you'd like her number!

What's the Deal With....

Sometimes when I am going about my motherly duties, it hits me. What's the deal with that?! So I ask you....

What's the deal with crib sheets: Why are they so hard to change? You need a degree in engineering and a medal of patience to get those suckers on. Last time I changed Marin's bedding I literally broke a sweat. And I know the mattress needs to be tightly fitted to the crib frame to be safe, and that bumper isn't doing me any favors either. But jeezaloo- changing the crib sheet is a doosie!

What's the deal with diaper rash: Last week Marin had it so badly that it seemed like Jesus Himself couldn't have cleared it up. I'll spare the non moms the details, but those who have rounded this block before know what I mean when I say that I blame the fact that she's teething. Luckily a recommendation from a mommy friend for Triple Paste applied as thick as butter, for about 5 straight days of constant application, did the trick.

What's the deal with potty talk: When did it become standard issue to mention Marin's rear end and rash issues all in one small sentence. I'm so sorry, Marin. That's just the normal glamour of mommy talk.

What's the deal with designers: I heard on the radio the other day that to boost shoppers moral (and likely, their pocketbooks) designers are cutting sizes bigger. So yesterday's 8 may now be a 6. What the heck? I thought I was losing weight, and here it turns out to all have been a lie? I am officially back on the ice cream.

Whats the deal with Target: Love Target. Bust how is it completely impossible to return to your car having only bought what you intended?! When I walk through with Jason he has to tell me to put my "horse blinders" on so I look only ahead and do not deviate from what we went in to purchase. That is seriously hard. I'd like to send this letter: "Dear Target, you are genius; I love you. Dear Target CEO, you are genius; I hate you."

What's the deal with the ABC's: Why are the ABC's sung to the same tune as Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is also the tune of Bah, Bah, Black Sheep? Were song writers really that short on material all those years ago? Another thought: How old are those songs? A million? I wonder how many children have sung the ABC's? I mean think about that for one minute: My Grandma is 92 and she for sure sang them. And I imagine that her mom taught her, and did so because her mom sung them to her! Did you follow that? Anyway, that tune has seen some things

What's the deal with weeds: I could spend an entire day, sun up to sun down, pulling weeds (from the roots, the way my dad taught me), and all be darned if those suckers aren't right back there and then some in what seems to be the very next minute. Is my yard some sort of steroidal breeding ground for yard venom? Those suckers grow like crazy. The irony here, of course is that in the meantime I am all but breastfeeding the actual plants try to keep them healthy. We recently transplanted some peonies that I considered quietly singing to the other day to try to inspire them to grow.

What's the deal with Hallmark: Have you seen Hallmark's new mother's day commercial? I have seen it three times now and I have sobbed a little bit each time. I love the idea of keeping Marin's little cards in a sweet little box to look back on as the year's pass. I hate the fact that that means she's going to grow up and one day (wait for it- heavy sigh) leave me. (note: If you clicked the link above, my apologies for the bad recording- its the only one I could find on you tube.)

I wouldn't change life one bit. But sometimes you just have to stop and wonder, "What's the deal?!"