one step forward, a handful of Cheerios back

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I remember my closet being a disaster as a kid. It wasn’t that you couldn’t maneuver through it. It was just messy. Barbies, ponies, puzzles and stuffed animals, all intermingled in a single basket, always overflowing and spilling onto the floor. Clothes hung haphazardly from hangers. Hundreds of mismatched toy parts were stashed wherever room would hold. And, mountains of school work and books were hidden amongst it all.

This organizationally-challenged closet drove my best friend crazy. Occasionally, she would convince me that we had to clean out the closet together. But, the inevitable always happened. We would pull everything out, nearly drown in junk, and she would have to go home. And, I would sit there atop this mess,  feeling overwhelmed and unsure of the next move.

This is how I felt today.

I woke up this morning feeling ambitious. Well, to be fair, the ambition only came after a decent amount of caffeine and having an avalanche of junk fall in my face while searching for some crayons. But, regardless, I started the day ready to revamp our organizational system, or lack there of. It was time for a little spring cleaning.

Just out of curiosity, have you ever tried completely de-cluttering, re-organizing and cleaning your home with a one- and three-year-old squealing at your heels and actually expecting success in a single day? Or, am I the only delusional one here? I would file that under the impossible.

My house looks worse off than when I started. I partly cleaned out one closet only to be distracted by an exploding cabinet in desperate need of some TLC. Dance parties occurred approximately every five minutes with the kids, and there was countless refereeing between the two. Then, let’s not even get into how much time I spent scrutinizing the hodgepodge of our laundry room. And, the “Things to Donate” boxes… well, the boys found those… and pulled everything out and reclaimed them as their own. Oh, and that hallway I finished cleaning three minutes ago, well, it now has a trail of Cheerios at the end of it.

Overwhelmed.

You know, they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Well, good news… I’m not crazy.

I gave up on overwhelmed, and we played outside… with paint… everywhere. If you’re going to make a mess, might as well as make it worth it.

Maybe I’ll catch you next year, spring cleaning. I can live with a little “organized” chaos 😉

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a letter from your sleep deprived mother

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My darling Everett,

I have an urgent matter to discuss that is causing a few expedited grey hairs. Let me begin by telling you that I love you so much and enjoy watching you blossom into toddlerhood. Walking, climbing and exploring the world around you… It’s beautiful to see. As a newfound toddler, I respect that you are beginning to have an opinion about your choices. Good for you. I am thrilled to let you choose between a banana or strawberries, or, whether you would like to throw a ball or roll a car. But, what I cannot accept is the new sleep schedule that you have chosen.

Five a.m. is not an acceptable wake up for the day. Ever.

It never has been. It never will be. There is not enough caffeine on the face of the planet to make me pleasant at 5 a.m. And, to be honest, you are not especially cheerful at that hour either. Yet, you insist upon this early rise despite the effects it has on you later in the day. Are you aware that it’s not normal to completely lose your mind because there are Cheerios on your tray? Or, to begin sobbing uncontrollably when someone looks at you? Yes. Well, there is a direct correlation there. You need more sleep. And, so do your parents.

And, while we are on the subject… What’s up with your naps? Where did they go? Don’t you realize you were my dream napper? And, now all you do is scream like a possessed demon child when I lay you in your crib for naps. Have you been talking to your brother? Whatever he tells you, he is lying. Naps are wonderful… especially two to three hour ones. But, hey, we can compromise. I could be happy with an hour… or, even less… Just give me something, dear. Screaming in your crib doesn’t really work for either of us.

I’m not sure Mommy will survive if both of my children give up on napping before the age of two. It seems like cruel and unusual punishment. So, take one for the team, Everett. Just go to sleep.

Please. Go. To. Sleep.

With love,

Your Momma’s sanity

hands off the ice cream

Ever since my three-year-old learned what ice cream was, I became a victim. Austin learned early on how to bat his eyes just the right way, flash that mischevious grin, and to use “Please, Momma” in only the most angelic way possible. I was putty in his hands.

My ice cream became his.

By the time Everett entered the mix, both boys had commandeered it all. Not cool, boys. Not cool.

So, for anyone who has been victimized by a preschooler robbing you of all your dessert, I’m about to change your life. Ready?

Take this…

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And, this…

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Insert the pint of ice cream into the Dickey’s cup, and it magically disappears. There still must be subtlety in eating said ice cream in front of the children, but, at least, when they catch you in the act, you don’t have to chunk it across the room, show them your empty hands and pretend you were never eating something in the first place. So very wasteful.

My first test run with the Dickey’s cup quickly caught Austin’s radar. No sooner had I taken my first bite than Austin poked his head from around a corner and demanded to know what I was eating.

“Broccoli,” I told him. “Lots of broccoli.”

He stared at me skeptically for a few seconds as I held my breath. Then, he sighed and carried on his way, not willing to take the chance that I might not be bluffing.

Momma wins. And, then, the next night, I served broccoli with dinner and made the kids eat it. Ouch. Sorry, guys.

Hands off the ice cream.

sick of sick

This winter and spring has kicked my butt. My kids have been sick for more days than they have been well. Snot has plagued my dreams. Having a child cough in my my face has become routine. And, we’ve visited the pediatrician only about a thousand times.

I’m sick of sick.

We finally re-entered the world this week after yet another bout of sickness at our house, and I’m feeling hopeful that maybe we can go longer than a week without something new rearing its ugly head.

Actually, my true goal, as pathetic as it may be, is to make it the three months to Everett’s next well check without having to go in for a sick visit. The hubs laughed at me when I told him this. We are so overdue for a nice, long healthy stretch at our house.

I miss my happy kids and all of our adventures. We were not meant to sit at home, twiddle our thumbs and drown in Kleenex. We have things to do. Bring on summer. Maybe the thousand degree temperatures can fry the germs my kids keep bringing home 😉

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happy heart day… one year after

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This week marks Everett’s one-year anniversary of his heart surgery. March 11 is the day Everett’s heart became new, and he could finally breathe easy.

When I think back to where we were one year ago, the feelings are bittersweet. My heart aches remembering the worry, the unknown, the exhaustion, and the pain my two-month-old son had experienced in his short little life. But, the week following surgery, there was joy. There was hope. There was relief. And, for the first time, there were smiles from our sweet Everett.

How far he has come in only a year. We didn’t know what his future would look like following surgery – Whether he would be delayed, how long he would require the NG tube, whether the surgery would work.

On the week celebrating his first anniversary, Everett is taking his first continuous steps. We have a walker. He has overcome all the obstacles, big and small, from this past year. And, today, we have a happy, healthy little boy.

There will always be worry and concern that his heart is causing problems again, but, for now, our life is crazy in a normal way. We have a newfound toddler who never ceases to explore the world around him, who already has a determined personality, and who smiles through all life’s hiccups.

I never could have imagined this is what life would be like a year after surgery. Or, how beautiful that scar would look through my eyes. I never dreamed he would be walking, talking and causing mischief like any other child his age. I thank God for my miracle. Happy Heart Day, Everett.

too much information

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Potty talk is in full swing at our house. We talk pee. We talk poop. We rejoice over every secretion that doesn’t soak Austin’s pants or land on the floor. We proudly clap as he literally shows us his latest drop off in the potty. It’s amazing how dull I have become to such disgusting discussion. And, that’s parenthood.

But, nothing quite prepared me for the new public embarrassment of potty training. When you introduce pee pee and poo poo into a toddler boy’s vocabulary, there is no filter on their mouth. And, the moment you frown at their potty talk, well, you’ve just fueled the fire. Let me replay our recent trip to the store.

As I push the boys in the basket through the store,

“Do tigers go poo poo?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Do Tiggers go poo poo?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Do birds go poo poo?”

“Yes.”

“Do cars go poo poo?”

“Uh, no.”

“Cars do go poo poo.”

“Huh, okay then.”

“Does Everett go poo poo?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you go poo poo?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Does he go poo poo?” pointing straight to a man within earshot.

“Uh huhhh..” as we quickly turn down the nearest aisle.

“Do dogs go poo poo?”

I pause in silence trying to rack my brain as to why I am actually in this store. Funny. All I can seem to think about are body fluids. Yuck.

“Momma. Momma. MOMMA. Do dogs go poo poooo?”

“YES. Dogs go poo poo, too.”

He giggles, and, then, is distracted by a shiny object. Thank goodness for a toddler’s attention span. This buys me about five minutes to finish our trip. I wrap things up and proceed to check out, where, of course, there is a mile-long line. We wait, and I mentally go through my to-do list for the day. During this time, Austin has begun singing.

“Bye bye pee peeeeee. Bye bye pooooop. Bye bye pee pee. Bye bye pooop.”

To be honest, I’m pretty sure he was several choruses in before I really paid attention to what he was singing. By this point, we had quite the mixed audience of chuckles and disapproving glances. Oops.

We reach the cashier, and Austin is mesmerized by the candy. Awesome. One child distracted. Now, I just have to play keep away with my credit cards from Everett in the basket. I begin paying, and, out of nowhere, Austin is standing next to me. He proudly tells the cashier how he went poop in the potty. She nods awkwardly. And, then, Austin announces with no less pride that Momma also went poop. Fantastic.

TMI, Austin. Too. Much. Information.

drama for his momma

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I recently came across a link on Facebook with a photo montage of children crying and the absurd reasons causing the tears. I laughed because, like any other mother with toddlers in the house, we can relate. It’s been quite the emotional morning at our house so I give you our last five hours of why one or both of my children are crying…

* He woke up.

* I gave him the wrong cup.

* I said Yes.

* I said No.

* I looked at him.

* I wouldn’t let Everett eat an electrical plug currently in the wall.

* I wouldn’t let him climb the shutters.

* He doesn’t want to poop in the potty.

* He doesn’t want to wear pants.

* He wants to see Grambear, Nana, Kenneth, Grayson, Collier, Carson, along with every other person he has ever met in his life.

* Because I picked him up. Because I put him down.

* I wouldn’t let him cram his hand into my mouth.

* I wouldn’t let him eat my chapstick.

* Because the wall touched him.

* Because the clock said it was only 9 a.m. Oh wait. That was why Mommy was crying.

* Because I wouldn’t let Bambi go swimming IN the potty.

* Everett looked at Austin’s toys.

* Everett crawled near one of Austin’s toys.

* Everett tried to eat one of Austin’s toys.

* I dared to ask if he wanted to take a nap today.

* I put food on his plate.

* AND, his slippers that can go on either foot were on the “wrong” way.

Only seven hours until bedtime… Sheesh. I can only imagine what the afternoon will bring. I think it’s a two Sonic drink kinda day.

a foodie of sorts

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So, here’s the deal. Everett is an awful conventional eater. No surprise there since we struggled with bottle feedings and again struggled with the introduction of solids. Several months in occupational therapy, and he finally takes solids but it’s limited.

Oreos were the first actual solid he willingly took. And, for a while, they were a staple in his diet. From there, he began accepting other types of cookies and various crackers. Pretty sure those baby teeth are going to rot out from that menu.

Eventually, he welcomed cubed cheese and the occasional spoonful of oatmeal into his diet. And, that’s where it ended.

I’m not sure cookies, crackers, cheese, a scoop of oatmeal, and a liquid vitamin he often vomits back up would be considered a well-rounded meal. And, I can’t bear the pediatrician’s advice of only offering him what we are eating for each meal. Tried that. He eats nothing and then wakes up screaming and starving in the middle of the night. Something had to change. So, I got creative.

I scoured Pinterest looking for recipes incorporating hidden veggies and fruits and pulled out some of my old favorites from when Austin was younger. My tried and true recipes for Austin were not such a hit with Everett. Usually, they were tossed to the floor with Everett grinning ear to ear. He was taunting me. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Mom.”

Recipe after recipe, he rejected. I have cooked a lot over the last few weeks, and, really, I dislike cooking. Up until a few years ago, the extent of my culinary expertise was Mac ‘n Cheese… from a box, toast, and driving through Chick-fil-a. The hubby certainly didn’t marry me for my skills in the kitchen. But, since then, I have expanded upon that and can happily cook meals for my family (as long as it has less than five ingredients). I was determined to make something Everett would eat.

And, then one day, I discovered the “in” to Everett’s eating. Saltine crackers.

We started with peanut butter. He loved it, and we love that it’s an excellent source of protein. Score one for us. Several days passed, and I was feeling “daring.” I smothered the cracker in cottage cheese, expecting him to throw it back in my face. He ate it. And, another. And, another.

This is about the time I started brainstorming all the concoctions he might eat off a saltine cracker. After he tossed his banana for the 50th time, I tried mashing it up. I spread a chunky layer on the cracker and handed it back over. He surveyed this new paste then promptly beat it against the tray until all the banana had slid off. Score, Everett.

I gave him a couple days and tried again with the banana, but this time, making it a smoother paste. He devoured three banana crackers with no hesitation. The key is in the cracker.

Since then, we’ve used strawberries, turkey with melted cheese, and the most recent, green beans with melted cheese. So bizarre. It’s even more bizarre to me because this kid would not touch purees, and he still won’t. Unless it’s mashed on a saltine. Oy.

But, it could be worse. He could want everything atop an Oreo. Mmm… Veggie paste Oreos.