Friday, December 19, 2014

Mom to a Five Year Old

I am not sure when this happened-- well last month actually.  But I now have a big ol' five year old.  Sweet baby James is now so much a boy that with the exception of those mile-long eye lashes I barely recognize what was my first baby.

James is five. . .

http://youtu.be/MDMxLd2Ayxw




So here it is-- his birthday video-- less than a month late.  It's nice to confirm that I am not playing favorites.   He's just as late as everyone else is.    New Year's resolution anyone?


Sunday, December 7, 2014

Is that Happiness I Feel?

I wasn't sure where I was going to go with this post-- as I have been in a damn reflective mood lately.  But last night I found the perfect way to frame up what is going in my head.

I struggle with parenting- yell too much, count to three more times than is ever effective, and feel late no matter what I am trying to get done.  Yet,  it's oddly rewarding. And funny.

I have a hard time articulating what it is exactly that makes me love this job- especially when so much of it is just plain fucking hard.  I often feel like a foreigner in someone else's land-- crossing borders that I judged in the past- such as apologizing for the stickiness of the counter or the naked kids getting ready for bath time.  Don't mind Deirdre- that's just poop on her nose. It'll be gone soon... we're taking showers.*

The weird blend of pain and suffering and joy seems to be the normal dichotomy in my life.  As a self-proclaimed moderation-hater, I seem to enjoy life best when it's lived in the extremes.  Extremes of parenting are hard to really explain even to myself.  I seem to jump back and forth between the joy /frustration threshold minute by minute  As I have transitioned from career gal to SAHM to somewhere in-between this identity and confusion has really left me pensive.  Is this the greatest job ever? I've been told so- but man it's hard.

And then this happened--
Go Get Those Horcruxes, Bud.




This is James who thinks I can't see him underneath his cloak of invisibility.

I often spend much of the hours between 7-10 escorting children to bed.  We've been struggling with bed time and some night time phone thieves, milk capers and non-essential pee-ers.  In effort to claim my evening, I decided to take a bath with the door open so they would have to pass the door if they were out of bed.  

Cymbals clang, lightbulbs pop and the thunder clapped-- that's it.  That is frustration, lack of sleep, counting to three, time outs and joy all in one little boy.

I called out to James-- and he continued to creep past the door, careful not to make any noise.  Those floor boards are a death trap.  After he safely made it back to his room with a phone (I presume). I continued to call to him and he popped on over as if nothing had ever happened.  That's right, the blanket WORKS. 

Yep, I think that is happiness.

It's pretty fucking awesome.**



* " "Tonight.  We are big into changing our own diaper lately.  Which works, you know. . . most of the time. Until it REALLY doesn't.
**As I write this post with a baby in my lap- a glass of wine in sight and spaghetti stuck to the wall next me.