up all night

Tonight I find myself talking to the baby monitor.

“Please go to sleep. Please go to sleep. Please go to sleep.”

But, he doesn’t listen. Tonight, the baby tosses and turns, fusses and cries. He is already setting the tone for the night.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Mom.” There will be little sleep in the following hours. Tonight, Everett and I will be partying with the crickets. And, tonight, I embrace that.

I am tired. I am exhausted. These last couple weeks have been draining. But, tonight, my baby is sick. It’s probably just a cold, but he’s snotty, miserable and running a fever. He needs me, and I will be there.

I’m a bear without sleep. I love sleep, and I need it – just ask the hubs. Fluffy, soft blankets pile atop our bed. Five feathery pillows fill my side. There are few things better than snuggling beneath the covers for some uninterrupted Z’s.

Usually, I dread these nights when the kids won’t sleep. I feel it’s an intrusion on my precious quiet time. I’m all about sharing, but I don’t want to share my nights. Save that for daylight hours.

But, when our kids are sick and our kids need us, we forget about ourselves. We are given the strength to run on minimal minutes of sleep. We are given just enough patience not to lose our sanity. We are given the gift of unconditional love. And, we are given caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

So, tonight, I doubt I will sleep, and tomorrow, I will probably be a bear. But, I am a Mommy. I will hold my baby tight rocking him for hours on end, and I will sing him lullaby after lullaby until he can find rest. We care, and we love, and we do the best we can. Sleep, sweet baby, sleep.

potty fail


This afternoon, when I asked Austin if he would like to sit on the potty, I received a glare. Then, in total silence, he carries his potty into the office, sets it down, and closes the door – him on one side, the potty on the other. He shakes his head without making eye contact and scurries away.

So, obviously, it’s going really well. ::smacks head::

Things began amazing with Austin. There were few accidents. He wanted to sit on the potty, and he loved the rewards. We went all out with intense enthusiasm and praise, not to mention the M&Ms and prizes from the dollar store.

But, a few days in, and he’s decided he is so over the potty.

Apparently, he is still doing well at school the couple times a week that he attends. But, at home, he has decided to boycott the potty… again. I’m not sure what changed, other than my child’s incredible stubbornness in the first place. I’m not sure where he gets that trait…

Now, when I encourage him to sit on the potty, he throws a tantrum – an over the top, kicking and screaming, mommy is going to rip her hair out kind of fit. The thing is he hates diaper changes, too. I really think he would be content walking around in a diaper for the rest of his life. Try to get a girlfriend in those, Austin. We usually put him in regular underwear at home, and when he wets himself, it doesn’t even seem to bother him. He could care less if he is soaked.

Since he can’t be bothered by wet diapers, wet undies or even going commando, where does that leave us? In a pile of pee, I guess.

Time to re-strategize. Score Austin 1,347, Mommy and Daddy 0. But, the final score will be Mommy and Daddy WIN. You will be potty trained, son. Just you wait.

i’d rather eat my foot


Every morning and every evening, we select one jar of baby food, open it, and then promptly throw it in the trash. At least, that’s how it feels.

Everett detests solids. Over a three month period, we’ve tried four or five different brands, different consistencies, real food, and even puffs – you know, sugar air – but, always we are met with pursed lips, overly dramatic grimaces, gags and spitting. On the rare occasion, he will actually down a small jar of sweet potatoes or squash. It has to be orange. Odd. But, even those “favorites” are often met with the same distaste.

It’s baffling to me honestly. That child will stick everything under the sun in his mouth and gnaw at it – a cooking utensil, our fingers, a shoe, our phones, Austin’s toys, or a personal favorite, the foot. But, the moment we slip in a bite of actual food, it is not up to his standards. You know, his high standards of feet and shoes.

It’s difficult not to compare our own children, but Austin was an eater. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, he loved his meals. You had to keep your fingers to yourself during mealtime less you lose one to that chomper. It took him a while to learn the concept of sharing one’s food.

And, thus, we are left with the question of whether Everett is just ridiculously picky, a late bloomer, or if he has an aversion, which apparently is common in kiddos with medical issues off the bat. Feeding evaluation should be scheduled for next week.

Maybe he just wants a cheeseburger.

maybe you should’ve counted a few more sheep

naptime blog

I have a love, hate relationship with nap time at our house. In fact, some days I just can’t muster the courage to even try to put my children down. As nap time approaches, I do a quick poll in my head – Is it worth it today? Or, can we try to survive until bedtime?

Now, let me explain. I LOVE naps. It is a beautiful thing when the stars align and both of my children go down easy and sleep like sweet cherubs. I adore those days. And, really, the drifting off to sleep is not what sends me into near panic attacks. It’s the wake up.

The wake up that makes me want to hide under my own covers. The wake up that immediately makes me regret nap time. The wake up that is the reason I practically toss the children at the hubs when 5 o’clock hits.

I loathe the wake up. Imagine a mother grizzly bear. You have just trapped her, and then decide to steal her cub away. But, you don’t stop there. You then proceed to sit just out of her reach and taunt her, while arbitrarily throwing acorns at her head. Now, bottle all of that anger and rage.

Austin’s fury at wake up time is the equivalent of that mother grizzly bear.


He cries and screams and just when you think he’s done, you glance in his direction, and it begins all over again. Usually, this goes on for about an hour. Bribery begins shortly after the first wail: a cup of water, a cup of animal crackers and cartoons expertly positioned for maximum efficiency. Sometimes it turns the grizzly bear into a mere rabid dog, and other times it only prolongs the outburst when we run out of the beloved animal crackers.

The real fun is when both boys wake up simulataneously. Everett is a dream napper in the mornings. But, there is something about afternoon naps that leaves both my boys a shoe in for leading roles in The Exorcist. Everett completely loses his mind. You know that bottle he doesn’t need for another hour or so? Yeah. He’s decided he’s going to die if he doesn’t have it five minutes ago. Oh, and that diaper, that he just wet .05 seconds ago. Yes, that should have been changed preemptively.

When I hear people gush over how much they love nap time, and how they themselves sneak in a nap too, I dislike them a little bit… okay… a lot. Because even when the children are sleeping, I sit there waiting. Waiting for the explosion that is our afternoon. But, it’s okay. Because at the end of the day, I know there will be chocolate.

all aboard the potty train

Before I had children, I always marveled at the older two and three year olds who were still styling diapers. With a disapproving look, my smug self would wonder why their parents did not potty train their kid. They were OBVIOUSLY old enough. If I could go back in time, I would smack myself.

Here we are two weeks from my child’s third birthday… And, I’m still wiping his rear and changing out diapers. Welcome to reality. It’s not that I haven’t tried. We’ve tried a whole realm of possibilities – bribery with candy, toys, stickers; positive reinforcement; peer pressure; big boy undies. But, he’s uninterested, and up until this point, his “perseverance” has beat out mine.


Last year, about this time, I had big plans. As soon as he turns two, we are going to get this kid toilet trained… along with ditching the paci and evicting him from the crib in preparation for little brother coming in January. Ha. I’d like to blame that “optimism” on pregnancy hormones, but, really, I just get delusional about these things.

Now, to be fair, we did accomplish two of the three things before baby brother arrived. But, that left us nowhere on potty training. Several friends ushered warnings of regression after the baby, so with an ounce of convincing, the excuses began for putting off potty training.

As A’s preschool came to a close in May, it finally hit that my kid is not potty trained. And, he will be THREE in a few months. I became the mother that I judged and suddenly was filled with self doubt and embarrassment. Sure, life gets in the way, but how does everyone else do it?

I recruited my mother for moral support, and we issued Phase 1 of Potty Training. A was already accustomed to the plastic kiddie potties, as I had purchased one almost a year ago when I was feeling so ambitious. And, he had used the potty on a rare occasion. With those past successes, I was feeling pretty good about how it would all play out. And, we had even picked out these:


We were good to go. Ha. There was a lot of crying and frustration and moping… and, A, was even worse. By the end of the day, my mom and I both threw up the white flag and clothed him back in a diaper. Peace was restored. We’ll try again in a few weeks, I thought.

A few weeks came and went, and I was met with an equally awful disaster. That’s it, my kid is gong to college in diapers.

I haven’t tried again since the middle of summer and since then have made excuses using our travel plans. Which leaves us here: two weeks from turning three, starting preschool and a strong attachment to wetting himself. All aboard the Potty Train. There will be no turning back this time.

meet A


My first born, or parenting test dummy, however you want to look at it. A was my first look at what love at first sight truly means. He turned our world upside down for the better.

Now, as a toddler, I am amazed every day by him. Sure, I want to rip my hair out almost constantly, and I totally blame him for all my gray hairs, but that feeling can change in an instant with his hilarious comments, wacky dance movies or sweet gestures out of nowhere. Nothing can make you feel prettier than when your toddler looks at you with those big beautiful eyes and says, “You’re pretty, Momma. So pretty” or “Love you, Momma.” Cue heart melting.

He is my “spirited” child, full of energy and on the move. He talks a million miles a minute, and has the kindest heart. He is my first baby love and my sweetest snuggle bug.

I’m a Mom.


I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I’m a Believer. I’m a writer. I’m a super hero. I’m a kisser of boo boo’s. I’m a burner of dinners. I’m a dreamer. I’m a lover of wine. I’m a goof. I’m a multi-tasker. I’m a wannabe photographer. I’m an open ear. I’m a snuggler. I am perfectly imperfect but perfectly in love with my boys. I’m a mess. Our life is a mess. But, what a beautiful mess it is.

Three years ago, we welcomed our first child into the world, and I began blogging “a beautiful mess” as a first time stay at home mom for family. When our second arrived earlier this year, I went silent, too overwhelmed with two to blog on. Here’s my fresh start in a much more open environment telling the battles and joys of a stay at home mom. Cheers to Motherhood!