This Week In Parenting 3 Boys

Weston is still getting out of his bed at night. Both him and the middle brother do not actually fall asleep until well after I do. I think the sanity is slowly draining from our house. Our trim and woodwork in the house changes with the seasons. In cold weather it shrinks causing the doors to fit looser in the jams. They know just enough force to pull a locked door open. We had to start tying one door handle to the other just to keep them in their room (I realize this is a huge fire hazard. Dale undoes it before he actually goes to bed). If we don’t do this we will find them prancing about the house as if they are skipping through a stinkin parade.

The other night Dale was getting their clothes ready for the next day so he unleashed the hounds after I had already gotten them in bed. I was cleaning the kitchen while I kept hearing laughter and pounding. I went to investigate to find them spraying air freshener all over the tile floor in my bathroom and running and sliding in it. GENIUSES! You’d think that they’d stop dead in their tracks when they saw that they were busted. Instead they gave me a glance, didn’t dim the light in their smiles one bit, and took off for another run for it.

“WHAT PART OF THIS SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE OK TO YOU”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE IN BED AND ASLEEP AN HOUR AGO”

“WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO”

I got the usual 4 and 2 year old answer, “Nuffing” and “I don’t know”

Off to bed one more time. It’s about to drive me all out batty. This causes me to lose my cool more than I would care to admit lately. Just when we were on a roll with keeping calm and taking it easy on the whole yelling thing.

Since I do my workouts after work now and Dale was going to be really late last night I had to run on the treadmill. I thought this would be perfect as they could ride their bikes down there, play basketball, and I really didn’t need to worry about holes in the cement walls. Perfectly caged enough for me to spend 30 minutes on the treadmill uninterrupted while everyone was happily playing along. So I thought…

The skate board was rolled down the stairs 3 times. I had no idea if someone was on it or not so it scared the crap out of me and I about lost it trying to see what the heck was going on. The 3rd time it was launched I hopped off and tried running up the stairs to pull the 4 year old down to really give him a good “talking” to. Note: not a good idea to try to run up stationary steps after running at a good pace on the treadmill. He’s lucky that factor came into play.

The scrap wood pile was used as a toy box. They would go find a nice piece of scrap lumber and then use it to beat the hell out of everything in sight.

The drain pipe was torn from the furnace by the ridiculous strength of a 2 year old.

They went upstairs and found my stash of gum and helped themselves. I’m now missing two packs of gum. I asked the 2 year old were it was and he shrugs and says, “I donn know!” in a gasping whisper.

The treadmill was great entertainment for them to throw the basketball, the baseball, and the football onto and watch it fly off. I was sure I was the next one to fly off. It’s really hard to yell and run at the same time.

Wyatt was harassing Waylon and Waylon was screaming bloody murder every other second just for Wyatt chasing him.

Note: It should count as a much more intense workout when you have to jump on and off a moving treadmill and try to turn and yell every half mile.

Finally as the 3 mile mark showed on that screen I punched stop and the football was then pulled underneath the treadmill and I yelled “EVERYONE LINE UP ON THIS LINE RIGHT NOW.” With huge gum wads in their mouths and tears swelling in their eyes they stood there unsure of what was going to happen next. They received their “punishment” and we headed upstairs as the middle one consoles the youngest one like they were just dumped at an orphanage.

“Everyone on the couch” do they really understand WHAT I expect from them when I am working out? How can they not know to not act like rabid animals? How can they not know it is NOT ok to destroy everything in sight?” I calmed myself down and tried to keep a straight face as the 2 year old repeated everything I was saying and acting like he was my partner in the whole deal.

“I have 30 minutes to work out when I get home from work. In those 30 minutes I expect you guys to find something to play with that is not going to destroy the house and that is not going to hurt each other. What kinds of things could you choose to play that are acceptable?”

They rattled off great answers which assured me that they knew what was acceptable and not acceptable to do. Um hello, then WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH THEM?!

Holy crap, I was searching the sky for a full moon.

Monday night they got peaches out of the fridge, ate them about half way while out playing in the garage then opened the garage door, placed the peaches perfectly under the door and closed the garage door down on the peach then lifted it back up while they collapsed to the ground in hysterics. Not so funny. And if they ruin that garage door opener I got for Christmas after 6 YEARS of me parking in the cold they just might be dumped at that orphanage!

CAN’T I JUST FIX DINNER????

If they are in the house I can’t keep them from climbing the shelves of the pantry or finding the markers and “drawing” me a picture on some other picture of their great grandpa, or unrolling the whole roll of toilet paper, or scattering their dad’s tools all over the house, using the hammer as wall demolition in the living room, or crushing my Clinque eye shadow up and pouring it in my sink.

Wyatt had an awesome week at home last week. He was patient. No fighting over homework. He was smiling and happy to see me. Then I get a note from the teacher saying he had another bad week. That made me throw my hands up in the air. These last few days I have really felt like throwing in the towel after such a good week of being calm and appreciative of all the little things. It almost seemed easy how they changed when my attitude changed and I was questioning why it seemed so hard before. And then this week comes along. AND IT’S ONLY WEDNESDAY! Maybe it’s because the return of crappy weather. Come ON Spring. Get here already and get these boys out of my house!!! Except Weston because I’m sure he will venture out into the road or get stuck in the mud somewhere where he will just stand there screaming until someone comes and rescues him.

It’s been a rough week so far in the parenting department. Can someone PLEASE spill another drink on my floor? Crap, I just remembered that I forgot to wipe up the applesause from under the table where Weston flung his plate across the room last night. I cry UNCLE!!!!

The Sweetest and The Meanest

When Weston still laid on the changing table to be changed, his belly making up the majority of him, I use to sing to him as I would trace my fingers down his head, to his shoulders, the sides of his round belly, down his chubby thighs, and to his perfectly small toes. I would stare into his dark brown eyes and feel my heart about swell out of my chest when his red plump little lips used to thin out to a smile.

Where is Weston

Where is Weston

Here he is

Here he is

Such a handsome little boy

He feels my heart with pride and joy

I love him

I love him

I loved singing that to him. I loved how quiet the room was and how much it was all about soaking up who he was right there in that perfect little moment. I did it as much as I possibly could.

I still sing him that song when he allows me to rock him in the dark of his room before I’m ready to let him down for the night. Now, he claps and says “gin, mommy”. I hope I never forget the way his lips shape when he says mommy.

Special little moments are few and far between now-a-days. He is too busy trying to keep up with his brothers and dismissing me with a stern, “I do it”. He is a handful to say the least. He still completely lives up to his nickname he was tagged with ever since he became mobile, “THE Destroyer”. And, I have a feeling this will stick for him for quite some time.

 

Our days are filled with his heart melting every time the boys are going to go do big boy things with daddy. He doesn’t even wait to see if he will get to go or not. As soon as they get around to getting ready he is throwing himself to the floor in a pile of wailing tears.

He is constantly scooting kitchen chairs around the house to get whatever in the world it is he thinks he needs.

No, is not an option for an answer.

Food is usually thrown to the floor to let you know he is done.

He can spend hours making truck noises and scooting the truck of the day around everything in the house including my face.

He always wants to eat, mainly apples, and he always wants meeeulk even though that means juice or something else but don’t you dare try and give him water if he didn’t ask for it.

When the boys have their shirts off, he wants his off.

When they go to bed he insists he is staying in there with them.

                             

He loves the bath and will not get out until the water is drained and you better not skip powdering his rear. Actually, he won’t let you forget.

Weston always lets us know he’s made a mess. “Mommy, speeeeult. Mommy, mess. Mommy, see. Mommy, boke.” With a “you really need to come take care of this” panic look in his eyes.

Last night, in fact, the house was a disaster and I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I started in the kitchen. As I’m doing dishes and we finally got the big boys in the shower, Weston was quiet as daddy watched tv. I had already kicked him out of the kitchen for climbing on the table and throwing everything to the floor right after I had cleaned that area. I mistakenly let the quiet go because I had too much to do and all I wanted to do was either relax on the couch if I could get away with it or go to bed. The Destroyer came around the corner with an empty bottle of syrup, “Mommy, boke” The lid was not screwed on so he was telling me it was broke. The immediate picture in my head was the pantry full of sticky syrup. I swiftly go around the corner thinking all sorts of cuss words in my head about the horrible mess I’m about to have to clean up in addition to all the other cleaning for the night. Oh, and he has now discovered that he can open doors by himself. This is not a trait he needed.

I opened the pantry door and found nothing. No syrup, nothing. You can probably imagine my surprise. As I was doing this he headed to the living room. I closed the pantry door and he came down the little hallway with a Tupperware dish that he loves to play with full of syrup. “Here, Mommy. Mommy, full.” WESTON! No way he opened that syrup lid and poured it in that dish without making a mess anywhere. But, I still couldn’t find the mess. He knew exactly what I was looking for and stepped to the side eyeing it like, “I know what you are looking for, but I ain’t sayin nuttin. She don’t see it.” I followed his eyes and there it was, syrup on the carpet. It didn’t seem like much, but as I was trying to get it cleaned up I could feel it was pretty soaked. It could have been much worse. Maybe he is getting better at his messes? I know, you’re kind of disappointed at the lack of mess, right?! Well I wasn’t.

He got mad because I took everything away, dumped the syrup down the sink (I considered pouring it back into the bottle) and went back to my cleaning while he grabbed one of my plants and tried to throw it on the floor out of his disapproval for him being in trouble. Mommy’s quicker than you think sometimes, buddy.

Our days are filled with little scenes such as this. But also, an hour prior he was sitting on my lap whispering that he loves me and turning his head to give me kisses without his eyes leaving the tv. He begs me to come sit down by him on the couch at least once a night and he won’t let anyone else sit on my “wap” but him. He’s the sweetest and the meanest. He keeps a reason alive for me to continue to workout so I’m not completely exhausted by him and so I can catch him as much as I can before his true destruction hits. But, I am so very thankful for all that he brings into our lives. There’s nothing sweeter than his I love you’s and waving goodbye’s. To hear him with his brothers and how they love to mother him is a true blessing. “Here, let Bubba do it. Want to come with Bubba? Bubba’s right here.” It’s awesome. And, completely makes up for the terror he bestows. I could stare at those deep brown eyes and perfectly formed little face for eternity.

Listen, Boys

It has lovingly brought to my attention that I have been negative about myself and maybe that is true. I haven’t posted anything funny in a while and I have had some “wins” here and there so maybe I should bring you all in on those as well…


I had an awesome workout on the track yesterday morning. This week is race week so the plan called for 6 x 200’s. They were supposed to be at 39.2.

 

1. 37.1
2. 38
3. 38
4. 38
5. 37
6. 36

 

Finally, a workout faster than it is supposed to be and I felt great. 29 degrees out with a very mild wind on the track. It actually didn’t feel that bad. Yesterday I thought my face was going to freeze off running 2 miles down the road. It was cold!!!

 

Another win, I have let go of my goal of beating 23 minutes in my next run. I’m ok with that. Getting sick set me back and my priorities are in order at home and with work. Training turned into working out to be healthy, not necessarily fast. I’ve gotten news that the course is hilly, which wants to send a little bit of fear down my spine, but I’m not going there. Dale is running this one and I am going to use this as a time to celebrate the blessing of running with my husband. Something that brought us together. He is much faster than me (2 time 400 state champ – just stroking the ego a bit) and always will be, but him offering to run WITH me this race makes me very excited. So, my new goal is to enjoy this race and try my hardest not to take it out on him when I’m feeling like crap and questioning why the hell I’m doing it.

Let's just get real... I'm PMSing like a motha and I'm not interested in being all positive and up on things.  My day started off fine with a little lifting weights in the basement without seeing a moving spider.  Win!  It was fine until the oldest one asked why daddy keeps making him wear the youngest one's shirt.  I say, I don't know and I don't know how it keeps getting in your drawer.  Then I tell him he can go pick out another one but not to make a big deal about it.  Good, great, life is grand and I'm tolerating PMS ok this morning.  THEN, he comes back in the living room in a Chief's jersey that he got out of the laundry (off his floor) that his brother wore 2 days ago.  Plus he had on camo pants, so he's looking like he just stepped out of White Trashville.  I swear I saw a rat tail on his shoulder. 

I am trying to be patient and help him out, but every shirt I pick out is wrong.  "It's too long.  "It will go down to here (right passed his boy parts) and I don't like it going down to here."  In the whiniest voice you have ever heard.  He is 6!!!!  I give up, say get a shirt, I have crap to do and the whole world came crumbling down.  Over a freakin shirt.  I go about my normal business a little louder and forceful than normal hoping like crazy he will get his crap together before I really lose my shit.  I go to start my car and soon I hear the screaming following me.  He is outside at the car in 30 degree weather without a shirt on demanding that I get him a shirt picked out.  It's a good thing we don't live in a busy neighborhood is all I have to say. We really can't get anymore White Trashville than a good ol' screaming fight with a shirtless boy outside in the driveway fresh out to start the morning. 

His much calmer parent took over and tried his hand at getting the boy a non-penis covering shirt even over his demands that he wanted his mommy to do it.  I think he ended up with a shirt on.  Who knows.  Wonder how Jackie, or whatever the hell her name is will like his puffy eyes this morning when he gets to school. 

Usually when this thick of drama is going on the other two stay out of harms way and keep their mouths shut, but this morning the other two decided to pick up where big brother left off.  They started fighting over the car seats and who was sitting where.  So, two out of three of them hysterically crying this morning over stupid crap while baby brother got his way and me throwing gravel with the tires as I left the driveway (more White Trashville).  I'm thankful Weston was in more than just a diaper when I carried him out on my hip.  Not bad, right?!

Boys, here is a lesson for you, you have 2.5ish weeks where you can pretty much do anything and mom isn't going to lose her shit.  She will be fairly patient, fairly kind, and give lots of praise and kisses and hugs, she will also play cops with you more often, playfully hiding and shooting you with fake bullets from across the room.  But, those other 1.5ish weeks, watch the hell out!  It might be good for you to start tracking when those weeks are in your favor if you want to live to see your teens!!!  Screaming like a girl and sobbing over what freaking shirt you want to wear or that you want to sit in the baby seat but your baby brother won't let you probably aren't good things to bring up on the 1.5ish side of things.  It's simple woman math!

AND L.I.K.E spells like, like, like, like, like, like.  "L" - this is a FREAKING "L".  T.H.E spells the.  the, the, the, the, the.  Not fffff, not you, not was. IT'S "THE"!!!!   Waylon, wipe your own ass, and Weston, stop shitting more than once a freaking day, stop scooting the chair to the bar stools to climb, stop jumping from the coffee table to the couch, shut the fridge and get out of the DAMN PANTRYYYYYY!!!

 

Freakin monsters!

The Idea of a Bath

Turn the knob

You can hear it across the house and in the kitchen
The water splashes against the bright white
Steam rises
The air becomes thicker and the mirrors cloudy
Rush the last few things in the kitchen and get the boys to bed so the house is quiet
The room is dark, lit only by the flicker of a vanilla candle

Slide one foot in the hot water
As the goose bumps form all over my body
I slowly slide down until my back and shoulders are submerged
And the bubbles hit my chin
The warmth takes over and my body melts into relaxation

I lay there
Thinking
Falling asleep
Waking up to relaxation all over again
Sweating
Thinking more about all the things that need to be done
And how I don’t have time to be sitting in a bath
Quiet my mind
Go back to thinking about nothing
And talk myself into getting out

I lift my body which seems to be 10 pounds heavier
And so much more tired
And wrinkled
Grab my towel
Throw my clothes on
Zombie my way to either the couch or into bed feeling completely drained
and like I don’t have the ability to effectively move my body.

I’m not a bath taker. I can’t remember the last time I took one, but don’t they sound lovely? I heard a song on the way to work this morning and it had me dreaming of dipping myself into a hot bath in the dark. Calm, relaxed, warm. It sounds so dreamy. I said to myself, “I’m going to take a bath tonight” then I thought of all the crap I have to do and how often Waylon likes to get out of bed these days leaving me with no peace and quiet before I collapse into bed barely squeaking out the first two words of my prayers.

Instead my night turns into, well, I have three young boys. You all have a good idea what my night is all about. Breaking up fights, cleaning up messes, disciplining this one for saying a cuss word, then that one, keeping the breakables out of their reach, especially that young ones and anything liquid or messy. Reading stories, fighting bed time, trying to keep my patience through bath time, keeping the baby out of the toilet and away from the plunger and the toilet bowl brush. Kisses and hugs and snuggles, which is the only thing that cures my horribly tired mood at bed time. Getting kids back out of bed because we just realized they had homework due the next day, but then leaving it on the counter the next morning, forgotten anyway.

Life is busy. I throw many pissy pants parties, but there are times when we all have a second to breathe. I look over and the baby is playing quietly with a truck. The middle one is sitting next to him playing with something completely different. And my oldest is sitting next to me enjoying the same show we are enjoying. And it all seems completely ok and calm and so much worth every single minute of chaos. There are times when they show me just how well we are doing as parents when we feel like we are failing. They show respect to others, they do well at school, they have smiles that can change people’s days. They comfort the people they love when they are hurting.

I have been spending way too much time thinking about the future. What goals I want to set for running and how I’m going to get there. What I can do to get out of the career I’m in for something my heart isn’t completely in to. How we are going to get this and that. Thinking about the future is important to a certain extent but what about right now?

What about the toddler chub that is melting off of my middle son’s body? What about my oldest talking about what he loves about school? Did I even ask him how school was yesterday? What about my baby who I’m holding onto calling a baby even though he is almost 2. He’s almost 2. He talks in simple sentences, which are completely cute to hear him say, “Thank you, mama” but it’s too damn soon. I wish time away and wish it back all in the same breath.

I’m taking my life back. I’m going to say no more often when it's important to say no. I’m going to speak up for what I think is right and demand answers and action. I’m going to go to work and instead of having one foot out the door I’m going to get myself back to where I want to be. I’m going to pour myself into my running to meet goals I have doubted. And when 6:30am comes I’m going to pour myself into being a mom and a wife that I’m proud of being until 7:30am hits then I’m going to pour myself into the employee I’m proud of being until 5pm comes back around and it is mom and wife time all over again no matter what kind of crazy freakin schedule we have. Besides, everything is going to get crazier from here on out.  I’m going to stop looking elsewhere and love and soak up where I’m at now. Right now!

And tonight, when I get home at 10pm, I’m going to take a fucking bath and like it!

My Middle One

There are times when the firsts get taken by the first. All the excitement and joy and celebration seem to be heightened the first time around. The praise not as thick as it was for round one.

But you are here too. Full of firsts. Full of things that need to be praised.

Being a middle child myself I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel the middle child.

I worried when I was pregnant with you how I would love you as much as I love your brother. Then you came into my life and they laid you on my chest; sticky, red, and perfect. I took in your face and all that you were made of and sighed a huge sigh of relief that you were here and 100% healthy. You were an answer to our prayers and restored more joy into my heart than you will ever know.

Right then I knew there was no question. I don’t love you as much. I don’t love you the same. I love you for every single bit of human you are. Just you, for you. I love you different. I love you with a love that is full and can only be for you. I love you Waylon.

Your laugh is loud and unmistakable.

You make awesome faces.

And have a personality that I could never fully describe enough to do it justice.

The gun sounds you make with your mouth are perfect and adorable.

You are funny and shy and you talk a lot when you are comfortable.

You are so much like your dad it isn’t funny.

You are an amazing person, but you only show certain people all of what you are made of.

When I picture you in my mind I picture you running from me. Watching you run from the back is something that makes every single bit of me smile. Your run encompasses your personality to me. Silly, strong, arms swinging, fists tightened, shoulders to your ears, and knees barely lifting. You lower your head and run with force and always with a fierce expression.

I love your smile and the way you find things funny.

You always seem older to me than what you are.

You love your brothers just like brothers love. You are there to protect them but at the same time knock them out on your own account.

You are sensitive but strong.

You love babies and sometimes like to act like one.

You like sweets and and stealing my gum.

Old time country music as much as you like rock. 

You want to cuddle but you get hot easy.

You always have to have a kiss AND a hug when saying goodbye or goodnight.

You started school this week. Just two days a week and only half days, but you are all about it. You actually want more of it. You always keep me on my toes. I never know when your shy is going to kick in versus when your strength is going to shine.

You surprise me time and time again.

Begging to go to a Chiefs game just barely three years old and loving every minute of it.

Begging to go on your first camp out away from home and with people you don’t spend a lot of time with, but you rocked it.

Getting up during our new routine and actually getting yourself dressed perfectly and without help.

Walking up that sidewalk, turning for a picture, and making your way through the door wanting nothing but a hug from me and to scoot me out the door on your first day of preschool.


You’re awesome, Waylon. My rock star!

 Who cusses way too much, hits, fights, whines, laughs, tickles, snuggles, likes to be left alone, eats veggies over meat, and tomatoes like apples, you like the smell of stinky feet way too much, you have too many bruises, and like to talk about poop, and call us mean, you will wear your rain boots, Hulk crocs, flip flops, and cowboy boots over your "fast shoes" any day, and you want to know the reason behind everything especially why old women smoke because you really don't like old women that smoke, except Grandma.

You’re hard headed, and beautiful, and strong. I could kiss your face a million times and it still wouldn’t be enough for me. You frustrate the hell out of me, but I couldn't love your spirit and personality anymore.  I wouldn't change a thing about you.  You're the best fire hat, swim goggle, and sun glass wearin kid around.  You make me love your childhood and wish it would go slower so I could learn deeper each day just how to squeeze the joy out like you do.  I love you so much, Nayners! 

And in your big brother's words, "That Waylon is one powerful man!"

Stress, Results, Thoughts, Boys, Balance, Oh My!

Last week I left you with some pretty heavy stuff.  I don't want anyone out there to be worried about me, so I'll give you a little update. 

1.  My sister finished 4th IN THE WORLD at the WBFF World Championships

•  She looked amazing!  For real, wow!
•  I honestly thought she had the title in the bag and said it out loud as soon as the 3 time reigning champ was called out for 2nd.  We were shocked when her name wasn't called.
•  I'm so proud of her regardless of what place she finished!  4th place is pretty freakin amazing though!
• The best part was getting to watch it live and text her before and after to see how she was feeling. 
• I loved the support she has received along this journey.  Awesome thing to witness!  When you follow your dreams you'd be surprised who comes out of the wood work to support you.  What an awesome feeling for me, but can you imagine how she felt?  On top of the world, yo! 
• Look out, people.  This girl ain't done yet!

This is a cell phone pic of us watching her!

2.  Wyatt is loving school and doing awesome. He's already talking about a girl (did I tell you that already?) and he loves P.E., lunch, and recess.

3.  He's been begging me to pack his lunch because those kids get to go in line first or sit at the table first or something.  UGGHH!  I hate fixing lunches, but I will make it his special little treat. 

4.  I'm not as emotional anymore - Praise the Lord (I'm sure that is what everyone around me is saying.)

5.  That thing I mentioned I was starting a while back, it wasn't for me, so I won't be sharing publicly what it was because it might be for others.

6.  There is still a ton of stress in my shoulders that was completely gone yesterday and came back on my drive to work in the morning.  HHHMMMM!

7.  I'm still questioning if what I'm doing right now is the right thing for me, but fear of comfort and consistency (a paycheck we rely on) has me frozen. 

8.  4 mile run Saturday = awesome, x mile muddy bike ride with the husband yesterday = Awesomest, 3 mile fast run on the track this morning = awesome.  The air was thick this morning and I sweated (swat?) a mustache.  I was dripping wet and my pace keeps getting faster.  I want 7:30 race pace at most for my next race.  My pace lately has been better than expected as I've been running by myself.  Surely I can push out a faster one if I'm competing.  My sprints, however, another story.  I'm ashamed of them.  Where the heck has my speed gone?

9.  Weston sat still on my lap yesterday and for the first time in a long time I got that thought in my head that my baby is becoming a boy.  I kissed his soft cheek and held his dirty soft hand soaking him up as much as I possibly could.  Yesterday morning he was the only kid home.  He woke up and talked to himself in his bed for entertainment.  He was pretending to do something as I spied through the crack of his bedroom door.  His hand motions were hilarious.  I couldn't take it anymore so I popped in and jumped in his crib.  I laid down and covered up with his blankets.  He smiled and nestled his back right up against me.  We had a nice little morning.  I love these boys!

10.  Bath time stresses me out and Weston hates bedtime so our nights get hectic around 8:30 and I feel like collapsing on the couch soon after, so I do and then I beat myself up about how horribly I handle that part of my day, which is supposed to be a sweet and relaxing time of the day. 

11.  I haven't mentioned Waylon in this post and I don't want him getting the middle child syndrome so I have to tell you how much that kid cracks me up.  He's a funny dude.  Yesterday he decided to pee in a bottle and ended up peeing all over the place.  Thankfully he was outside.  I love running my fingers through his overgrown faux hawk.  He gets to meet his teachers tonight.  We'll see how this shy guy takes to it all.  I might be paying by the month instead of the year for him. 

Dino rain boots with no rain that he has been wearing for a week now.  I love him and he makes me really enjoy his childhood (most days)!

All in all, sometimes my life is crazy, goes too fast, sometimes it is slow, but never boring.  Sometimes I suck.  Sometimes I rock, but like I told my sister this morning, it is all a balancing act.  Every day is a chance to tip the scales to find what works right in that moment.  I'm just trying to perfect my balance!

Oh, and this happened:

The end!

Ready or Not

The perfectly sharpened pencils

Square erasers

New bold markers

Perfectly shaped crayons

Crisp clothes

The brightest socks

And shiny new shoes

Even the underwear new

Butterflies

And being caught in the emotions of scared and excited

Missed friends

New routines

The chill in the air you feel in your t-shirt and shorts

The smell of that bus

and the confusion on where to sit while everyone stares.

It's here.  As much as the well up in my eyes wants to go back to your first days on earth.  The way you smelled.  The way you would glow under that billy light.  Me getting used to my postpartum body and snuggling you close on that blue boppy.  I miss how your skin felt and how your relaxed hand would curl ever so slightly and wrinkle your palm.  I used to love examining your tiny hands.  We can't turn it back.

Those days in the rocker and showing you so new to everyone I knew.  How my heart swelled with each new milestone; army crawls, feeding yourself, showing affection, walking, running, becoming a big brother. You would rub my pregnant belly and soothe my broken heart.  My dream come true.

It's here. 

The days I spent dreaming about this day.  Who would you be?  What would you look like?  How tall?  How plump?  Would I still see the tiny traces of toddler or that momma's boy look?  Would you be ahead or behind the curve?  Want to cling to my hip and wrap your arms around my waist? Confident or shy?Ready or not?

How bad would that book bag slump you over as you waited for the bus or walked through those unfamiliar halls?  Could you carry your weight?  What cartoons or favorite characters would you demand seeing on everything you owned?  Would you look back?  Cry or laugh?  How big would your smile reflect the shimmer in your pale blue eyes? 

I can see your slender arm raise and your long fingers waive.  The peek of your eyes right over your shoulder.

It's here.

All those thoughts and wonders now answered and realized.  A new page, a new chapter in your life.  A part of me wants to mourn, but the other parts want to celebrate.  This is a big step for you and me and our lives. Time to say goodbye and hello.  Let some of my fears go to make room for new, deeper ones. 

I know you'll be ok.  You're confident and sure.  You don't stumble too much when it comes to others and how they feel.  You are already a leader.  You are going to make friends and more girlfriends.  Some of these friends you will have for the rest of your life.  To lean on, to learn from, to guide, to share life with, and laugh until you cry. 

I'm not worried about you, Wyatt.  I don't think I have to. I'm worried about me and how I will adjust along this long winded road.  My fears go deep as we enter the gates of this new journey.  Will I always be the mom you need near or far?  Will I fail you enough to help you grow or will you resent me for something I've done along the way?   Will you fail and not realize how powerful failure can be?  Will something along the way go wrong?  Take you left when you should have gone right? 

I pray that you will always feel the love that I feel in my heart for you.  I hope you never wall it off and you always feel it to its fullest.  I pray that you will find the ways to show me your love when at times it will be too hard.  I can loosen my grip, but I will never let go. 

No matter how big you grow.  How strong your talents shine.  You will always have that cowlick on your forehead, that mole on your cheek, that birthmark on your finger, and your momma's love flowing through your veins to your heart and surrounding it with warmth, love, and protection.  I pray that you always feel it.  With every beat of your heart I hope there is just a small spark of a reminder as to how much you are loved and how much you are worth. 

You did so well, Wyatt.  You never looked back.  I met you at the school when you stepped off the bus, the only time you looked a little scared.  Our smiles found each other and we joined hands down the hall to your classroom.  You asked if I would do this every day for you.  You don't know how much I wish I could, but you don't need me.  You've got this.  A picture, a huge kiss and hug and you disappeared into your classroom ready to face the day. 

I've been thinking about you ever since.  I can't wait to hear and see you tell us about your day.

Linking up to JDaniel's blog to share our 1st day experience.

I'm not always strong

School is starting
I can’t even process that

I’ll miss him getting on and off the bus everyday
Every stinkin (insert cuss words times infinity here) day

Dale is mad at me
I don’t even know what to think

I’m tired
I’m so fucking tired

I don’t want to do this or that or anything else anymore

I feel pressure here and there and over there

I don’t want to feel the stress in my shoulders
Or the pain in my neck
I don't want the nerve endings in my brain to feel so much burning

I’m working my ass off in so many ways
And frustrated that things aren’t falling easily into place

I fear migraines
And time
And our future

I want things now that we can’t have
I wonder if we will ever get there

I want you to be happy and comfortable

I want a script to follow
A recipe of perfection
With a defined ending
And someone to come cook our meals every night

Why does EVERYTHING have to be so damn hard
Especially when it looks so easy for others

Am I even where I’m supposed to be
I thought I was
I thought I was doing what I was lead to do

How can I feel so complete and put together one month and like things are crumbling around me the next

I keep waiting on answers but all I get is silence
Maybe that’s my answer
But I still don’t know what direction to go

What the fuck is going on

I want to be by myself
I don’t want to talk to you or you or anyone else

But I want you here
Listening to the things I’m not saying

Feeling the frustration behind my smile
Letting me know that my silence is ok
That everything is ok

Making me laugh so my head stops getting in the way

I ran pissed off this morning
It felt good
Too bad those endorphins aren’t lingering

I’m sick of being late
I’m sick of having places to be to be late to

Funny thing is I want it all
I want everything I have and more

I decided to focus on what I have this morning with a mile left on the track
The people I have in my life that keep me going in times like this when I want to quit it all
Because it is too hard, too much, too exhausting, too full

I know what I have
I count my blessings
I usually know what I want
And how I’m going to get there

It’s just all the meat rotting garbage in-between
The setbacks, the frustrations, the difficulty
We all have it
We all have a choice of what to do with it

After I throw my fit
Jerk my head back
And pound my fist and heels on the floor
Scream
And wipe my snot on my sleeve
I’ll be ok
Good as new
Just excuse me while I do

For the record, I never, ever want to give up on my marriage or being a mom. Ever! For those of you that don’t know the true me I didn’t want that being read and taken differently.

More Than Olympic Moments

I could write about several history making events that have happened in the Olympics.  I could write about all the times I was inspired and how many times I was moved to tears.  Whether the tears came from witnessing a great moment in history, seeing someone pour their heart out while living their dream, or whether they came from seeing their parents watching their pride and joy accomplish something they have a passion for.  All of the Olympic moments have meant something to me.  

I'm nowhere near obsessed, but I love watching them and I love seeing my boys watch them.  I think about the next one and how old they will be.  Will they remember the history from this one?  Are they being inspired by seeing these amazing people work hard, have heart, and determination?  Do they get it?  Do they know what it takes?

My all time favorite moments will be the ones pictured here.  The ones where life was put on hold to watch something amazing.  What else stops a 18 month old in his tracks?  Life for him is usually about chase, and cars, and not sitting still for a second, and eating, and not wanting to go to bed.  He watches intently.  Even making himself a place on the floor to watch whatever event happens to be on at that moment. 

Waylon recognizes the Olympic rings the most and will shout out "THE OLYMPICS" whenever and wherever he sees them.  

They run and chase each other and play track.  They have their own gymnastic moves, which they will show you over and over again after repeatedly asking the question "Want to see my Olympics?"

They stop and stare in awe of what is going on in front of them.  Are they dreaming?  Are they being inspired?  Will witnessing this spark something in their little brains to let them know they can too achieve greatness in their lives - athletics or not?  Is this making them want to believe in themselves? 

One of the first gymnastic routines that Wyatt saw he stood there watching.  I wondered what was going on in his head.  He moved to the middle of the living room mumbling something about "I can do that."  Before I knew it he had leaped into the air and was doing a front flip right there in front of me.  He landed square on his back and I think my shocked reaction was what scared him the most. 

"Are you ok?  Buddy, those people practice and practice to be able to do things like that." 

He held back the tears and for a while and I think he was pretty dazed, but it didn't stop him.  The next day he was out in the back yard pretending to be starting from blocks and running around the yard begging me to announce that "Jason was coming up on him, but he ran to the finish line in 1 place!"

He ensures me before him and his brother show us their Olympics that they have practiced.  These times have definitely put a pep in Wyatt's step and admiration in the eyes of the other two.  It's amazing and I'm beyond thrilled that they have loved it so much. 

Whether you like the Olympics or not, or want to protest who they are sponsored by, or complain about what the athletes wear, you have to admit these are people that took living their dream to the top level.  That in itself is pretty amazing.  You don't have to be athletic or have some crazy talent to keep striving for your dreams.  All you need is a dream, the passion, and belief in yourself that you can make that dream come true. 

I love when they interview the athletes or tell their stories.  They talk about failure.  They talk about them being down and wanting to quit.  But then they talk about reaching down and pulling through.  That goes with so many different things in life.  This is why I love the Olympics. 

Just a Glimpse

I’m cranky

Sick to my stomach
Annoyed
Pissed that my first long morning run was ruined by me getting sick to my stomach
I’m tired
Really freakin tired
I turned the car around twice this morning because I didn’t think I’d make it to work. I showed up anyway.

I’m jealous that Dale is home with the boys all week and they are having a really good time

I went fishing with Wyatt the other day after work and caught a snake. I hate snakes. I screamed, jumped, and ran toward the house like I was a 12 year old girl.

The boys were bad that night.
They wait to be bad for me when I come home.
Fair, right?!

They were going to stay up and have movie night with daddy when I went to bed.
Then they got loud and started throwing their “babies” up in the air
Laughing hysterically
Then one head-butted the other on accident
Then they yelled and cried
Then they wouldn’t stop fighting
Wyatt punching Waylon
Waylon using his heels to kick Wyatt
They screamed
Bawled
I warned them
And warned them
And warned them
They ignored me
I snatched the plastic bat they were hitting each other with and yelled at them to go to bed
I told them how bad they were and why they couldn’t have movie night and slammed the bat against the couch
They ran to their rooms crying like I actually beat them with it
They were best friends consoling themselves
Daddy comes out after hearing everything while he was taking a shower trying to conceal his laughter over how ridiculous I sounded losing my shit on them
Daddy gives the puppy dog face and says, “We were going to have movie night”
I shrug my shoulders
“We can’t have movie night?”
“You better go freakin talk to them”
They come in
Tell me how sorry they are
Kisses and hugs
Wipe their tears and settle in for movie night on the floor by daddy
They were asleep before it even got started and before I could even get up and go to bed


This is just a glimpse of the ups and downs of having kids at home. How to find the balance between fun, giving them a break, making moments to remember, and discipline? I’m sure you all can relate. I personally love the way Dale and I have been on the same page lately. Have any fun stories to tell about a night in your house?

He's A Graduate!

There are times when you are quiet and I wonder what you are thinking.

I smile.  You usually smile back and I can tell whether it was good or bad. 

There are times you are so excited you can't stand still and it is all I can do to try to find the response that will match yours and not break one ounce of your spirit. 

You are confident yet shy.  There are times when I think you are going to clam up but more times than not you respond to others so loving and sweet. 

That smile. 

I find myself staring at your profile from time to time.  Thinking about how much you have grown.  How handsome you are. 

How perfectly made you were.  Your hair, your teeth, your beautiful skin. 


The cap and gown hung there in our entry way for weeks.  Hiding from the emotions it would bring to the surface for me. 

"You know what today is don't you?"

"It's Friday.  It's my favorite day because I get to go to Grandma's after school."

"Do you know what else it is?"

"Graduation day.  You won't be a preschooler anymore."

"YES!  Then I can ride the bus and go to school all day."

"You sure can, buddy.  I might cry tonight.  Is that ok?"

"Why?"

"Because you are my baby boy and now you are growing up so fast.  It makes me sad that you are getting so big.  But I'm also really proud of you.  I'm proud of how well you did in school.  How smart you are.  How good of a friend you are to the entire class."

"Well, if you cry, that's ok, but I have funny songs to sing for you."



You got dressed in your dress pants that seem to now fit perfectly.  And slipping into your dress shoes wasn't as easy as it was just a month ago. 

We found our own spot in your classroom.  Kneeling down I had to look up.  I grabbed the bottom of your gown to slide the zipper up to your chest.  My face showing clear signs that the ugly cry was just at the verge of pouring over.  I couldn't even say anything to you.  I was thankfully distracted by your blue eyes and the excitement in the room from you and your classmates. 

"Let me get a picture of you, ok?"

"Mom, you better hurry up.  I don't have time for this picture stuff."

I love you beyond words, Wyatt Sharp.  I'm so entirely proud of you and that won't ever change.  I have so many dreams for you, but the one that matters the most is that you will do what makes you happy and that you have a positive presence in this world.  You truly are your own kind of guy and one that people can't help but admire.  There's definitely something special about you. 

It was time to leave him there with his class.  We took our seats in the church and anxiously awaited their march.  I missed him and for a second and panicked but found him again right there in the middle of the stands nervously standing next to his classmates.  He's a graduate. 

The teachers announced what the kids would like to be when they grew up as they stepped off the stands, "A baseball player"!

Whatever dreams you have, baby, keep them close to your heart and never let go.  Believe in yourself and do all you can to reach as high as you can.  I will always be your biggest cheerleader.  Dreams really do come true.  Mine did!