Undiscussed milestones

In our house, we often discuss the "why don't they talk about this" milestones.

Rolling, we know.
Crawling, yep.
Sleeping through the night, for real.

But have they told you about the baby-holds-his-own-bottle?

It's the real deal?

And now for the preschooler?

We've unlocked the self-pump on the swing badge.

P.S. :  When you have three, this one is huge.

Get it Annie!

(And teach your brother!)

Baptism by Goats

Not really.

That would be gross.

But despite all my wishing, the logisitics of having one in "real" school, one in daycare, one car, and S having a newish job, my maternity leave plans for a weeks long roadtrip to SC never came together.

I'm so glad we were able to put a couple of days together over Christmas, for the vaunted Edwards tradition of meeting Ms. McDonald's goats (and chickens!)

(Don't ask about R's outfit.  It was the confluence of feeling potty trained enough to no longer carry back up clothes.  We called him a soccer player.  He accepted.  Mostly)

Wonder

I'm about as artsy as a Crayola box.

I can identify a couple paintings (hey there Mona Lisa).

Even some waterlilies.

But I can appreciate the newest art exhibit in town.

Named "Wonder", it is basically tailor made for toddlers, and visited by only adults.

So what do I do? 

I go once on a Mama-baby outing to check it out, and then Monday, I take AH on a ladies date for the museum and lunch.

I had her at Rainbow.

What did she love the most though?  Of all the beautiful rainbow things?

The tires.

Annie, I hope you always find beauty in unexpected places, and I hope that I will have the chance to have more "just us girls" dates in the future.

It's amazing how a bus ride and a bowl of soup can stick in a three year old's mind.

Holiday Show 2015

While 4 minutes might be excruciating....

As are most childhood memories.

I present A and the Cubs.

He's Sunny

There's not much else you can say about James...

He's just... sunny.

He's awesome.  Unless he wants to eat, this guy is just the best.  He's all smiles.

For daytime catnaps he can't do better than the Bjorn snuggle. Just settles in and chills. 

I'm going to miss this guy.

Birthday Party

More on she at three later, but for now?

Did we have a birthday party at a sportsbar?

We did.

Was it awesome?

It was.

Wait, have I blogged this?

I have so many never-published thoughts,

Instagram snapshots at our life,

Fun stories to tell.

Heck, I can't remember which ones I have told if any!

Like about the awesome playground/park/petting zoo/nature center/hiking trails we found thanks to a friend at R's school?

It's a Wizard of 0z playground, with all of the above.  And a train.  And a merry go round.

It is most excellent.

Today was just one of those-no-good-at-being-a-parent days.

Among other things, there was a formula, lotion paste.  ON MY BED.

There was a preschooler-level breaking and entering into the locked closet that was locked for good reason.

And being kicked out of choir practice.  Yea, that happened too.

So instead I'll share a funny vignette.

We're entering party season, so at a Thanksgiving party we went to on Thursday, and then at our home that evening, R referred to "bandage cheese".

We finally figure out what it means.

Look at that brie on your next cheese plate. 

It does kind of look like bandage cheese, no?

Parenting Gamechanger

There are times in parenting that stand out as game changers.

Learning to hold your own bottle...

Sitting...

Crawling...

Walking...

Self-feeding...

Buckling own seatbelt...

And our newest?

Holding your own vomit bucket...

So how was your weekend?  :/

True Life

Conversations you have with your husband when you have a newborn:

"Did I shower today?"

"Are you sure?"

A Ghost

We have a new ghost

(apparently)

A lying ghost.

There have been some breaking of things.  Some minor destruction included.

The sister and brother (elder) have apparently secret banded together when it comes to the inquisition.

"Who broke this?"

"Nobody"

"Which of you got out of bed?"

"No one"

They carry their answers through to the end.  Consistent they are.  Truthful, they are not.

That moment

That moment...

That moment when someone spits up into your shoe.

That, my friends, is parenting.

Advice Overload

One of the toughest things about parenting is that you are always surrounded by advice.

Note that I chose the words "toughest" and "surrounded"  intentionally.  Both of them.

Sometimes the advice is given:  solicited and not. 

People, seeing that you are one-handing a stroller, tackling an exuberant doesn't-realize-she-is-only-two-year-old, and keeping your "I WANT TO YELL" voice to just a "HOLY CRAP THIS IS MY FRUSTRATED" voice when you remind the four year old that he does, indeed, know how to put on his shoes.  No he didn't forget how.  No, it doesn't hurt his arms.   Yes, indeed, sir, you need to do it yourself.  (As does your sister, but that's another story).

Yes, we've tried charts and stickers.

We've encourage independence, we've coddled.

We've rewarded, we've taken away.

We've basically taken all your parenting advice,

And the advice of the guy across the street that is totally opposite?   We've taken his too.

And the baby?  Yes, I'm giving him a bottle, no, don't worry about my milk supply (ps:  nunya).  Yes, he's big.  Yes, he has neck cheese.  No, he's never going to be able to roll with that gigantic head.

Those people, have coaching opinions.

And then the surrounding. 

The times that you google "postpartum hair loss", and "milk supply" and "social skills and 'four year old'" and "is xyz developmentally appropriate" and "when does abc end and jlk begin, and holy crap, who told me about pqr"?

The internet.  It has ALL the advice.

And this make-you-crazy advice I've freaking subjected myself to.

Why?

Because you know what?  We aren't actually breaking these babies and kids.  They are fairly well-adjusted, kind most of the time, eat a vegetable or two, and are capable (if not willing) of putting on their own shoes.

And then comes that day when you are taking a lovely walk at the Arboretum with an equally lovely first time Mom, and she gives the parenting advice that makes you stop in your tracks.

Someone told her, this lovely, zen, Irish first time mama, "treat your first like he's your third".

I'll say it again

"Treat your first like he's your third".

And the freaking AHA light goes off.

There's a reason that I laugh that those new Luvs commercials.

I hate cheesy Mom commercial, but these?  They nail them.

I have handed the baby to near strangers with a "can you just hold him for a second" while I find my keys/wallet/bag/phone.  (Maybe not the mechanic, but yes near strangers who don't know my last name and only ocassionally pronounce my first name correctly.)

I've parked him with awesome school staff when I run upstairs to get the kid at school.

I let him cry for 5 minutes (secret:  sometimes ten), so I can get a shower.

I'm actually breastfeeding this time around because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it's working.  And I'm also feeding formula bottles too because I'm not all crazy in my head and for some reason it is working.

And I'm not surreptitiously mixing those formula bottles in the car because of fear of judgy judy.

I'm choosing the "fast" bottles over the slower ones for those middle of the night feeds, because, ya'll, I'm tired!

I'm counting oatmeal cookies as oatmeal when trying to work on my milk supply.

I'm allocating tomatoes as vegetable servings for the big kids,

I moved the baby to his room already because I know I need to sleep to be a good parent.

I'm investing heavily in the Costco prepared foods aisle.

I'm wiping spit ups on my sleeve, the baby's blanket... basically whatever is available.

I'm greatly congratulating myself on the days I shower BEFORE school drop off.  But also not getting a darn on those days that the jammie-pants-that-you-call-yoga-pants-to-feel-better-about-it are worn all day.

My most hit upon (non-infertility) related posts on this blog are about how parenting is hard.  (See: "Zazoo"  http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/zazoo.html  , and "It Gets Better" http://palmettobaby.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-gets-better.html

The lesson learned?

TALK ABOUT HOW HARD IT IS... and then let it go, and find your "third kid" place.

So let's not make each other crazy.  Let's give some good old practical advice like my wise Irish friend.

Worry about the things that matter. All the other things will fall into place.

What you got?

James is listening.  And ya'll?

He's not suffering.

Not even a little.

Halloweek

I'm sure it is awesome when you are grown and have access to an open bar to have a Saturday Halloween, but when you are less than 13, your options become a WHOLE WEEK of Hallofestivities...

And when Halloween actually rolls around you are worn out.

We hit the local university Halloween (Thanks CUA!), R's school fall festival (Thanks Lee), and did the Trick or Treat thing.

And by the end of it?  All asleep way earlier than the time change would have hope.

But was it fun?

It was totes fun.

More gratuitous costume-y photos.

Halloween in the new neighborhood.

We are finally starting to settle in here at the new casa.


There is no more reveling event regarding the state of a neighborhood than trick or treating on Halloween.  It was truly great to see hoards of kids out and about with parents running escort/crossing guard.


Big THANK YOU to all the parents and families that made the night a special one for everybody.

#ShawnBlogsAgain