Steps have been taken

It was a desperate situation.

Samantha wanted to follow Miles, more than anything in the world.  The problem? At her fastest crawl, she was still too slow to keep up.  And it frustrated her.  She would stare at him with longing as he ran past. She would let go of the coffee table, and promptly fall on her rear.

But no more.

Now, when Brother takes off running, Sister lets go of that table and toddles after him

For about five steps before face-planting on the hardwood floors.

But, it's progress, and she is one determined little lady.  She will be off and running in no time. :)

Moment

It is 5:30 on a Monday evening, and my babies are both sleeping.

Patrick is at a welding class, and my friend who was coming for dinner had to cancel at the last minute, because work happens.

I've been sitting here for almost three hours, cuddled up with Samantha, certain she was going to wake up at any moment.  Only now, as my fingers fly across the keyboard does she wake, groggy, to chew on the strings of my hoodie and blow raspberries at me.  The room has grown dark around me, but I have no desire to switch on the light, yet.

It's twilight, and it's quiet, and it's perfect.

Two.

Some days, having two small children is overwhelming.

Scratch that.

Most days.  Everyday, to some degree.

I had just started getting used to sleeping through the night again, and now we're back to an infant who wakes at least 2-3 times a night.

I'd forgotten how expensive formula and diapers are.  And how quickly infant clothes are outgrown.

Getting out the door takes four times longer with two children than it did with one.  I'm still not clear on how that math works.

I spend a lot of my day listening to one child cry while I help the other one with basic care.  Miles needs food?  Time for Sam to start screaming.  Sam needs to eat?  Time for Miles to have a meltdown because his banana broke.  I am exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Every.day.

And then, my children do something awesome to remind me why they're worth it all.

Like when they hold hands in the car.  Every.single.time we get in it.

Or when they wrestle on the floor and laugh so hard that you can't help but laugh with them.

Or when they cuddle down for nap together.

Or when Miles admonishes Samantha: "No, Sam! That's not safe! You scared me!"

Or when Samantha takes four or five wobbling steps trying to chase after Miles.

Or when he doesn't see her and starts crying, asking, "Where my Samantha go?"

Or when she does see him and gives him a special smile that's just for him.

Having two is tough.  Tougher than I ever would have thought.  I will not lie - I have on occasion wondered what the hell we were thinking adding another child to the mix.  And then I realize.

Our family was incomplete without Samantha.

Yes, things are harder, now.  But, they're also so much better.

So much. . .

I feel like I'm bursting at the seams.

I have so many creative endeavors in my head, and no time or place to bring them to fruition.

I have so many recipes I want to try, and two small children who don't allow me the preparation time.

I have so many books I want to read.

So many shows I want to see.

So many projects around the house.

I want to do ALL THE THINGS!!!

Which is just overwhelming, and makes me stare at the wall trying to decide what to do until my children remind me that I don't have the luxury of staring at walls for long.

Projects.
Books.
Recipes.
Shows.
Writing.
Yoga.
Friends.
Sleep.

I want all of this. And so much more.

Miss Me?

It's apparently been about three months since my last post. . .

Oops.

See, we re-enacted The Money Pit bought and remodeled a house and moved in.

And my computer broke.  Again.

(Dramatic re-enactment. Photo credit: Hackaday)

Thanksgiving happened.  And then, Christmas happened.

(Photo credit: Flikr)

And then there's always these two:

Hopefully, the new year will bring more opportunities to share our lives with all of you!

Learning the Hard Lessons

Today, I was laying Samantha down for her afternoon nap, when I heard an unholy screaming from the bathroom.  Quickly, I put her down and ran to see why my son was losing his mind.

He was sitting there over the toilet he had just flushed, crying as though he'd broken an arm or something.

"My car, Mommy.  My car," he sobbed.

Apparently, he had dropped the car in the toilet by accident, and flushed before he thought to get it out.

I held him as I explained that I couldn't get it back, even if I tried.  His beloved Hot Wheels was gone forever.  His tears soaked my shirt, but I just rocked his little half-naked body, trying to find words of comfort.  He has dealt with things being broken.  He has dealt with choosing to get rid of things.  He has even dealt with having something taken away from him.

Never before has something he so loved been torn away from him accidentally and suddenly.  Yes, it was only a toy car, but to him, it's a big deal.

As his hiccuping tears drew to a close, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Mommy.  I'm so, so sorry.  It's all my fault."

My heart broke again, and I grasped for words to explain that accidents happen, and they aren't anyone's fault.  They just happen and they suck, and sometimes, they can't be fixed.

His sad little silver-blue eyes stared into mine, tear-filled and red-rimmed, as I tried to explain a concept that I have trouble dealing with, even now.  Sometimes things are gone, suddenly, without rhyme or reason.  And you can't fix it.

We snuggled there for some time, wishing the world were different.

And then we dried our tears and went to play trains.  Because the world moves on.

Four.

Yesterday, my oldest baby turned four.

Four.

He's beautiful, and perfect, and sweet and kind, and getting SO BIG.

Yesterday morning, he crawled into bed with me, snuggled in, and asked, "Mommy, why are there balloons?"

The night before, while he slept, I had hung balloons from his doorway.  I replied, "Because it's your birthday, and special things happen on your birthday."

My little man sat there, thinking for a moment, and said, "Oh.  Fair. . . " :)

An hour later, however, when he'd had time to process it, he asked me to go upstairs and look at his "balloon tunnel" with him.  I stood next to him as he stared at it in awe.  "Mommy," he said, "you make me so very happy.  I love you." And he wrapped his little arms around my waist as I choked back tears.

The rest of the day was a blur of breakfast with Grammy and Papa, playtime at Monkey Bizness, nap, and of course, his birthday party.

I have never seen a happier boy than my son last night.  And never have I felt like a better mom than I did in that moment.

Happy birthday, Little Buddy.  You are awesome.