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.

Santa, what big eyes you have!

Because we weren't busy or stressed out enough over the holidays, we decided to make an appearance at Tyson's daycare festival the week before Christmas. Even though it's a great fundraiser and super fun for the kids, we probably would've skipped the whole thing if it wasn't for a little boy's excitement over a cameo appearance by Santa himself. At first Tyson was kind of scared to sit on Santa's lap but Jason, myself and the elf photographer that quietly claimed to be the wife of St Nick (Santa is a polygamist I guess) convinced Tyson that is was a perfectly safe place to be.

...and a week later we were presented with this picture.

I have titled this photo 'heebeejeebees' because that's what this crazy eyed Santa has given me.

Luckily we had Nolan with us. He immediately engaged in a staring contest which seemed to keep Mr. McCreepy in line.

Well hello my name is Tyson...and I love to do drawrings...

For most of his life, Tyson has gone to daycare two days a week. The teachers at this place have had Tyson painting/drawing since he was an infant so every week I have a new pile of stuff to go through. Usually it's just a bunch of scribbles but recently, his drawings have started to take the shape of things that can sometimes be identified. Last week I stumbled upon these...

Me: "um, Jason what do you think this is? Is this a...oh my god is this a girl in a bikini?...or a naked girl? Next to a giant tentacle-less jelly fish?"

Jason: "Really hon? Do you think perhaps you're overreacting a little bit?" (looks at the drawing) "...huh."

Me: "No you're right, I'm probably exaggerating. On to the next one."

"shit"

A letter to my son (part 1)

Dear Tyson-

I know your world has been rocked. The world where you consumed all of my thoughts and actions. Where you deliciously ate up every second of my attention. The world where you received endless praise and/or consequences. For three years we had each other all to ourselves and now we have to share. Sometimes that stinks. As loving as you are towards your new little brother, I see the frustration during the times when his needs come before yours. I'm betting that there are times when you feel less important. There is nothing less true. While I truly didn't think it was possible, having another baby has made me love you more than ever. You are the boy who made me a mom. You tolerated my mistakes as I stumbled (and continue to stumble) through life as a new parent. You were the first to throw your little arms around me and whisper 'I love you' in my ear. You were also the first to simultaneously pee in both my face and yours. You have challenged me physically, mentally and emotionally. Even though it seems I have a million memories already stored in my brain involving you, I know that there are a million more that have escaped. That's why I'm writing this letter. I hope I never forget your instant excitement over anything new. I hope I always remember the way you say things like "I for-almost-got" instead of 'I almost forgot.' I hope I never forget that wearing an apron and chef's hat will definitely make the pizza taste better...

that making a stethoscope out of a breast pump is perfectly normal...

that hauling our winter gear out for the season can actually be fun...

when dressing up like a dragon is super fun on halloween...or just tuesday...

that household chores don't have to be boring...

that this seemed like a good idea at the time.

Te amo Tyson.