what was i thinking?

So a few months ago, September to be exact, we booked ourselves a little trip to Hawaii...this was only after I strong armed my co-worker into inviting me to her wedding...in Maui. 

In September I was 8 months pregnant, thinking the beaches of Maui without my 2 children (one I had yet to meet) was a fabulous idea.  We called the grandparents (I threatened them with no hospital visits of the new baby), and a very sweet Auntie (who would do anything for us), and a plan was made.  Shoot, April was MONTHS away...I'd be fine leaving my kids. 

Why anyone never questioned a pregnant woman making a decision like this is beyond me.  Do we not remember the house paint disaster (for the record...I still hate the color of my house)?

So here I sit, the night before the big trip.  Bags are packed, house is spotless, dog is at Zaide's, kids are asleep, lists are checked off, Ryan has been yelled at at least 5 times (and that's just today...and we only saw eachother for 15 minutes), the spray tan is on...and I am a total wreck. 

I'm good at acting tough.  I'm a great bullshitter.  I'm all talk.  But when it comes down to it...I'm a wimp, a weenie, a Mama's girl, a sucker, a big, gigantic, baby...I am, in short, pathetic.  Because the very thought of leaving my 2 babies, for 7 days, has made me cry every morning for 2 weeks straight.  And these tears have brought a very supportive husband who tells me 'to pull it together', 'that I better not ruin his trip', and that 'he's going with or without me.'

So here we go (because he's most definitely not going without me).  I'll start the morning off with an ativan, a valium, and two drinks at minimum (and this is just to get on the plane), and then I'll continue the flight with a beer, a cracker plate, and a movie.  Oooh, and if I'm lucky, I won't stop breathing.  Because it pretty much takes me being comatose to get on an airplane.  And if (when) we do crash, don't you worry...I've already talked to that Auntie, who's taking the kids tomorrow (and who takes our kids for eternity if we die) and told her that if we do indeed die, and if for some odd reason, the kids should die as well (not even die, they very specifically have to be brain dead), that I would want them to be organ donors.  The best part is...she didn't even think that was a weird thing to say.  

GOOD GOD.

I am going to miss these two.  

Peace out...Hawaii or Bust...Worst Mom Ever...Whatevs.

On a side note...I'm thrilled to get to be nice to my husband for seven days (okay lets not push it, I will be nice for at least five), I am thrilled to spend time with some nearest dearest friends (besties really), I'm thrilled to see if the sun really does exist, and I'm over the moon to see Miss. Sands marry her baby daddy. 

But when you nominate me for Mom of the Year (Mothers Day is coming up, I'm sure you can get nominations forms at any participating Safeway), just cut and paste all the nice, sappy, stuff I said up above.  Because, to be honest, I can't friggin' wait!!!

another visit from the bunny.

Last year at Easter I changed things up a little.  Instead of just hiding the basket, I had the 'Easter Bunny' tie a string to Hadley's door that she then had to follow all around the house, which eventually led her to her basket (I totally copied this idea from my Mom's BF Michelle).  And thus, our Easter began...

Then off to Auntie Val's.  She never misses a beat.  Our place cards were hard boiled eggs with our names etched on them.  Even one for Carsie.  And she used the fine China for us.  She's a fancy lady.

Next to Zaide and Baba's for the Annual Cousin Egg Hunt...and a visit from Uncle Easter Bunny.  It went well from one of my kids.  Didn't bode so well for the other.  Although, 'the other', talked for two weeks straight about how she is NOT afraid of the Easter Bunny and that she will definitely give him a hug.  Plans quickly changed once they met.

Until next year Bunny Boy.

jump around.

jump around.  jump up.  jump up.  and get down.

he's here.

Meet...

Luke Ryan Whitsell

Born April 25th, 2011 at 6:25pm via c-section.

9lbs 10oz.

20 3/4 inches long.

Poor Mama was in labor for over 13 hours, before they decided his big ole' noggin wasn't gonna fit. 

My favorite parts of our very first meeting...

His Mama kept calling him little pal and was so, so calm with him.

I got to see his first tubby...and hear him scream.

While Lukie was grabbing Bennett's finger and staring at him, B shook it and said "Hi Luke.  I'm your Dad."  In only the cutest way Bennett could.

He nursed for well over an hour...while Ry had to sit out in the hall.

When he started crying while his Mama was nursing him, she got the saddest look her face and said 'I don't like when he cries...Meg what do I do.'

It's amazing how that Mama instinct kicks in instantly. 

Jaw dropping actually.

Joc and Bennett, they are in for it, they are smitten.  Unconditionally, wholly, purely, absolutely, without a doubt, smitten.   

As am I. 

Don't tell anyone Luke, but you make me want another.  I'm serious though.  Keep your little lips sealed.

 

a little rice. a little cereal.

How do you celebrate turning 5 months old?  Well, with a little rice cereal of course.  He did great, but that darn tongue sure is a nuisance.  Welcome to 'solids' buddy.

dear mr. sunshine:

You're making us super duper smiley. 

Hang around. 

Stay awhile.

seriously.

I am speechless.  Not laughless.  But speechless.

What a giant dork.

And her bib (or apron as she calls it) says:

'This is what handsome looks like.'

And yes, she's eating cheerios.

one more reason to drink.

"Hey...wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?"

Our very own Lloyd Christmas.

(and a big thank you to Pat Conniff for pointing this out).

they've got talent.

So I am not a creative person...at all.  But I am smart enough to surround myself with people that are.  And here are a few of my favorite things, from a few of my favorite peeps...

Dinosaur pants from her.  Are you kidding?  Does it get any cuter?  The answer is no.  It really doesn't.

Quilts for the kids from her.  And no she doesn't sell them.  And yes, she should.  Both kids sleep with them.  Both kids cuddle with them.  Both kids are rarely without them.  Both kids want to marry them. 

The cutest monkey blankie from her...again.  It's super thick, super cozy, but he can't sleep with it, because it's super SIDS.  However it's the perfect tummy time blanks, no rug burns for this kid.

An adorable buggie blanket from this fancy gal (other mommy's are green with envy when they see it, they ask all the time where I got it...go to her website...buy it).

And another dinosaur rump shot.  Do I really need to explain why?

rotting his brain.

"The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends that kids under 2 years old not watch any TV.

The first 2 years of life are considered a critical time for brain development.  TV and other electronic media can get in the way of exploring, playing, and interacting with parents and others, which encourages learning and healthy physical and social development.  Excess television viewing has been linked to increased rates of obesity, behavior problems, poor self-image and precocious sexuality. "

Oops.

not again.

Seriously.

Having a boy.

It's a whole different ballgame.

This happens at least once a week.

They have no control over that thing from the get go. 

where's ryan?

Everyone says this boy looks just like his Mama.  But I think his Daddy's mouth was cut and pasted onto him.

missed you.

Don't think he even got one yelp out before I was ready to feed & rock him at 5am.

Couldn't have been happier when she walked into my room at 6am.

Yep.

I missed my little mini me's something fierce.

it's all over.

My gig is up.  My time as a stay at home Mama is over.  And although going back to work fills me with all sorts of anxiety, it also fills me with all sorts of excitement.  It certainly helps that I love what I do.  It also helps that I love the people I work with even more.  And trust me, I am someone who needs the balance.  I need to miss my kids.  It makes me a better Mama.  It doesn't hurt that I know they are in the best hands possible when I am gone (seriously, probably better than mine) and it also doesn't hurt that I am only away from them for two/three days a week.  I've got a pretty good gig. 

Plus, I think it's good for them to have just daddy time.  Dad to get them ready in the morning, Dad to feed them dinner, and Dad to put them to bed at night...and the dreaded weekends when Dad has them ALL day by himself (somehow he always finagles an aunt or grandma to watch them).  So, just when I was getting the hang of it...it's time for something new (don't let me fool you, I never really got the hang of it). 

But I know this, on the days I could get them down for a nap at the same time, or the days Ryan would come home and everyone was happy and dinner was cooking, or the days Hadley would wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me for no reason at all, or the days Carson would fall asleep on my chest while I rocked him...well, on those days, I was truly tempted to let my nursing license expire. 

So here I go, back to the grindstone, back to feeling guilty about being excited to be outta this house, back to doing what I really, really love and what makes so much of me, me, and best of all back to peeing in private...but only on Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday.  The bathroom door is wide open every other day of the week.  

Me in all my glory...and my favorite SAHM attire...headband, hair in a pony, baggy sweatshirt, black yoga pants, and, I'm sure, slippers...and of course, not a stitch of make-up (or a shower).  I'm making sure to make myself as unattractive as possible so there is no chance of baby #3:).

tiny dancers.

 We started ballet last week.  She loves it.  She needs to work on her grace.  She's kind of like Frankenstein in a tutu.

Oh, and 'big' cousin Lauren is in the class with her.  These two.  They are pretty smitten with eachother (when they are not beating eachother).

doctor, doctor.

The Boy.

4 months.

26 inches (80%).

14.2 pounds (27%).

Big head (75%).

Asked doc if maybe my breastmilk or the formula we were supplementing was the reason he was SO fussy.  His professionsal advice: "He's a baby.  Babies are fussy." 

Thanks.

For nothing.

4 shots.

Ouch.

Cried like a baby...until Mama picked him up.
Then he went back to sleep. 
And slept for four more hours.

The Girl.

4 years.

43 3/4 inches (>97%)

42 pounds (90%)

(secretly glad she was taller in inches than her weight in pounds)

BMI 15.4 (seriously...on a 4 year old!).

Vision great.  Hearing great.

Asked what she wants to be when she grows up:

A nurse and a firefighter.

Asked her favorite food:

Jelly toast and chocolate milk.

Asked her friends at school:

Owen.

Doc:  Is he your boyfriend?

Hads:  Maybe he is (with the cutest smirk).

Two shots.

No tears for Hadley.

Big tears for Mama.

Love it when she's brave.

da boys.

Proof that maybe he doesn't think babies are SO bad.

nanny 911.

Please. 

Come shoot me.

the human garbage disposal.

Ryan eats everything.  Literally...everything.  Don't even get me started on the number of times I have come home from work (pregnant, and not pregnant) craving something in the worst way (and remember I have had 13 hours to think about this one particular thing) only to find that it has been eaten...by Ryan.  And yes, I would cry (pregnant, and not pregnant). 

 I've gotten smarter.  Now I text him during the day saying "Don't eat the ______, or you will die". 

  Hadley has caught on too.  And when we bought these treats for movie night, left them on the counter, and then went to the gym she said "Uh oh Mama, we better hide those so Daddy doesn't eat them."  We decided to make him a sign instead.  It worked. 

 They were safe.  And so was he.

her 'real' birthday.

I know, it was almost a month ago...but lets relive it.  For nostalgia's sake.  For my sake.  For the sake of when she's 16, and sassy, and ungrateful, and says I am the meanest mom in the world.  And I can say not true.  Turn to page 1,897 in your blurb book.

Good morning sunshine...Happy 4th Birthday! 

All day you kept saying "Mama, I keep forgetting that I am four."

It started out with a scavenger hunt, a chocolate chip, sugar infused, sure to put you in a coma, pancake breakfast, and a phone call from Nana, Zaide, and Dad.

Then off for a haircut, a fun jaunt through the toy store, and ice cream with your boyfriend...

...where Carsie fell in love...

...and where you were quite proud of your birthday crown (trust me, you wore it for an entire week after).

Then back home for your favorite birthday dinner (spinach ravioli), birthday cake, ice cream...

(Carson was unimpressed).

...AND PRESENTS!  You've got this birthday thing down pat.