Sexy and I know it

Somebody discovered their reflection.

Hooked on phonics...

The Day I learned my son could read. 

Tyson's been trying his hardest to read for months. Typically he's just been recognizing and remembering words. One day we were eating lunch and he kept staring at our kitchen counter where Jason left his water glass. Then he says this...

"mom, what's big as beer?"

Me: (looking behind me to find the glass). "We're in Wisconsin honey. Nothing's as big as beer." 

The Pink Finger

A couple of days ago, Nolan woke up with the dreaded pink eye.

Slightly different than the 'stink eye' we're used to. (see Nolan's stink eye face below)

("what you talkin' bout Willis?")

Cure for pink eye = easy. Trying to explain to his 4 year old brother that we cannot leave the house or have friends over to play = impossible. 

At one point, Tyson stuck his finger directly into Nolan's pink eye just to make sure it was really irritated. I responded with a speech on 'that's how germs spread, you must wash hands, blah blah. I must have sounded really scary because Tyson immediately ran to the bathroom yelling, "OH NO, NOW I'M GONNA GET THE PINK FINGER!"

As a parent I had two choices at that point. I could've A) calmed him down and explained that there isn't such a disease or B) used his fears to manipulate him into learning excellent hand washing skills. 

Obviously I took the high road...

Ha, I kid. Manipulation is the foundation of good parenting, no?

Wordless Wednesday

A girl and her camera

There once was a girl who bought a new camera. Two years later, she finally started to figure out how to use it without the comfort of an automatic setting. Said girl went to California and attempted to take loads of pictures in hopes to get better at this camera business. Girl dropped her camera and appeared to have lost almost all of the vacation pictures. She. was. pissed. and sad. and scared. but mostly pissed. Girl seeks professional help (camera help. not therapy help). One trip to the Camera Company and a couple of weeks cured the injured memory card (camera was diagnosed with an "angry autofocus" but otherwise ok). Girl has not had time to edit pictures but will provide a sample of some fun things encountered in Cali. Girl will now stop talking in third person. Enjoy. 

M-I-C-K-E-Y

Last week Tyson turned 4. FOUR! 

By some great coincidence, we happened to be in California celebrating Jason's great great aunt's 100th birthday so of course we went to Disney. 

Let me just say that flying with two small children is not for the weak. In fact, I think spoon feeding pureed foods to an infant on your lap during turbulence should be considered an olympic sport. That along with carrying said children + luggage+ carseats (that were wrapped in garbage bags and duct tape...cuz we're classy like that). Even with all of the stress of traveling, I am so glad we went. It was so much fun to celebrate 100th birthday with a gaggle of family and even more fun to celebrate a 4th birthday with Mickey Mouse. 

Tyson was so excited to meet Mickey that he decided to dress like him. The second he put the hat and gloves on he started telling everyone we walked past that he was in fact, Mickey and kept giving everyone he saw a high five. It. Was. Awesome. 

Nolan thought this was hilarious. 

WTH?

In case anyone was wondering what the hell happened to me. 

Here's how I've been spending my time. 

I promise I'll be back. 

Just as soon as I can safely remove the earplugs. 

schedule schmedule

By the time Tyson had reached the 5 month mark, he was incredibly familiar with cameras and photo sessions already. We were very diligent about getting every milestone captured on film. (Super surprising that he remains in constant need of attention right?). Then poor Nolan came along and 5 months passed and Jason and I looked at each other and thought, hey maybe we should hang some pictures up of that new kid of ours. Except there weren't any.

Even the pictures I took myself were limited. Luckily my great friend and neighbor happens to be a photographer (Heather Rae Photography) and was kind enough to squish us in to her busy schedule. Now I finally will have something to put in Nolan's baby book. Thank goodness my boys look almost identical so if Nolan ever asks us about himself as a newborn baby, we can just point to Tyson's pictures. "You see this kid? You looked exactly like that."

The Land of (no) Nod

When someone has a new baby, everyone wants answers to the same question.

"How's that little one? Is he a good sleeper?"

"Are you guys getting some rest?"

"How does he do at night?" etc. etc. ad nausem.

Then it's followed by a fantastic story about how their son/daughter/niece/nephew/grandchild slept through the night at 2 weeks old and takes 3 hour naps and is only awake long enough to remind everyone how fantastically cute and smart they are. Then I smile sweetly and have to say "I'm sorry, I have to leave now" before I go all Incredible Hulk on their asses. "You're making me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

When Tyson was born and we realized that not every child was such a screaming ball of fury, both Jason and I were afraid to complain about it. We thought people would think we loved him less if we discussed how seemingly impossible it was to take care of an infant who never slept and cried all the time. It took months before I could verbalize or write anything that didn't indicate that everything was perfect. Now we are more seasoned. Now I can say with confidence; Fuck it. This shit is hard. And here's why.

Things started out ok with Nolan. He didn't appear to be as angry as his brother so we figured that maybe we had one of those 'sleepers' that we'd heard so much about. We were wrong. Due to some cosmic joke, neither of my children nap...at all...and neither sleep through the night (and when I say they don't sleep through the night, I mean they have more stamina than a college kid on spring break). Obviously this makes everyone super fun to be around and not at all crabby. The other night they were both awake so many times my brain imploded. I'm sitting here brainless as evidence by the fact that I've been trying to write this post for 45 minutes but can't be trusted to put a coherent thought together. That and the fact that I just found our remote control in the refrigerator.

I know this post is whiny. I know I sound completely ungrateful for my children and that isn't true. I adore my children but they are even more adorable when they sleep. They are downright darling when their parents sleep.

The Running (Wo)man

I signed up for a 10K.

I haven't been running in over a year.

I could tell you all about the fact that I like being healthy and how exercise keeps helps me sleep better thus putting me in a better mood. All of these things are true but let's be honest. I have a muffin top and I'm tired of separating my shirts into the two categories of "ok" and "should only wear while standing." So I bought a new pair of running shoes and set a goal to run the Fargo Marathon 10K in May.

The other morning I snapped on my awesome and extremely stylish reflective belt started my run just before dawn. And by run I mean extremely slow jog where most people driving by would wonder why I was walking so funny. It was a long and tedious and painful run where I tried to turn around at my halfway point. This is where I fell in front of a school bus full of kids and left them wondering who was the lady who stole a crossing guard belt and flashed us an extremely white butt crack due to the slightly too small running tights. She seems fun.

After Tyson was born I ran a 5K with my mom and two of my sisters but this time I thought I needed more of a challenge.

Turns out the challenge was to find time to exercise, shower AND sleep occasionally...all whilst trying to keep my butt crack covered.

Dos ninos

Tyson was born with a personality that I can only describe as high maintenance. Never content, never sleeping, always pissed about his babyhood and his inability to do more things. So when we discovered there was another little nugget on the way, Jason and I braced ourselves. So far Nolan has been much easier than his brother. So much easier that I fooled myself into thinking I could totally take two kids while running errands without any trouble. I was all, "two kids at the post office with 4839234 christmas packages to mail? Of course! What could possibly go wrong?" (Now, I realize that you folks with more than children than I are thinking, "really lady? This you couldn't handle?" I've decided you ladies are either super awesome or you must be drunk all the time).

Off to the post office I went. I was able to juggle toddler+ baby in carseat + said packages + diaper bag etc. ok. Waiting in line with approx 72 other people mailing christmas packages and the boys started to rev up. Tyson became super hyper when he realized he had an entire audience of people who didn't have the choice to run away. Nolan realized he was still in his car seat and decided he hated his car seat and ohmygodmomgetmeoutofthisthingorimightdieohmygodmom!!!

Finally we make it to the automated mailing center (which I thought would be easier/quicker...ha) and I was trying to rock Nolan's car seat with one foot while he continued scream while trying to weigh/address/purchase posting while realizing I left my pen in the car and Tyson is so intrigued with the keypad on the mailing center he can't stop pushing buttons for the zip code so our Christmas presents could easily end up in Zimbabwe.

I had a realization that this is totally my new normal and I suddenly started to giggle. Pretty quickly the looks from the other patrons changed from pity/annoyance to 'oh wow, this is what a nervous breakdown looks like.'

That's the beauty of the second child. As crazy as it can be, you realize that everything is temporary. The screaming stage I can't wait to see gone will turn into the cuddling stage I miss tomorrow. I'm sure at their high school graduations I will be dying to have my babies back. So what other choice to I have besides strapping myself in for the wild ride that is parenthood and hoping those kids in Zimbabwe enjoy the presents.

Karma Chameleon

I've just realized that Steve Jobs didn't actually die.

He was reincarnated.