I Do It Myself

Rumors are that my first sentence was "I do it myself"..

I think we might be in for another Susann.

May Flowers

I want a yard with an azalea bush in it.

Soon.

Soon.

Little Helper

(Ignore the terrible picture).

Robbie is starting to be interested in "helping" with Anna Helen. 

He loves her. 

Tries to pick up her car seat with a toddler exaggerate grunt. 

Rubs her tummy. 

Says "ohhhhhh(ok) aya (annie)" when she's upset in the car. 

He retrieves the winkle when she drops it.

We have to stop him from poking her eyes out when he says "EYES"

He tries to help with bathtime and dinner time.

But mostly he just stacks her toys on top of her.

Halfway There

I'm living in a constant state of halfway there.

Thanks Bon Jovi. 

We're living on a prayer.

We're living in a world of halfway there.

Halfway between good and terrible equals a huge amount of mediocrity.

It's been one of those "Halfway there" weeks.

Halfway there: as my toddler darts towards the street during a community playdate, rescued by another Mom before I even know he was missing.

Halfway there: as another chance at taking a chance goes by the wayside because we are stretched financially with double daycare bills, finishing off hospital bills, and low and behold, one last fertility clinic bill shows up.

Halfway there: as Mom isn't feeling great, her body isn't fully recovered from two pregnancies and two major surgeries all in under two years.

Halfway there: as we show up at daycare tonight and AH's diaper doesn't appear to have been changed, and she hasn't been fed in going on five hours.

Halfway to, ok, she's five months.  When is she going to get easier?

We're down on our luck. It's tough... so tough.

Halfway there: when AH seems complacent with the chaos... will it always be chaos?

Halfway there: when I look in the rearview mirror every. single. time. I drive the car and thinking, I have GOT to get my eyebrows waxed.

Halfway there: when the prospect of getting dinner on the table even three times in one week is daunting.

Halfway there: did I really just wipe a booger with my bare hand?

Halfway there: when AH still isn't sleeping through the night and its getting too late to blame it on a four month sleep regression, so you start to blame it on bad parenting.  Or on her being lonely and just needing a little attention in the middle of the night.

Working for these kids.  We bring home our pay.  For love.  For love.

She says we've got to hold on to what we've got.
Cause it doesn't make a difference
If we make it or not
We've got each other and that's a lot
For love - well give it a shot

So when do you not live halfway there?  Or is parenting a constant stream of halfway there?

Halfway to your perfect because someone spit up on your freshly drycleaned suit five minutes after you put it on?

Halfway to your full self because your kids are running around on the playground with your heart in their hands?

Halfway to realizing your own dreams, because right now, the only ones that matter are theirs?

Take my hand.  We'll make it.  I swear.

Romp

The 2011 neighborhood babies group had a Saturday meet up at a local playground last weekend.  More than 15 families showed... it was so wonderful to see how everyone is growing up.

Robbie was romping and running.  Thank goodness for other parents who helped me keep an eye on him...

Robbie is a man in a hurry . . .

(This plastic container may or may not have been taken out of the trash can...)