Is there such a thing as ME time for a mommy?

The other day by a twist of fate I had an Aha moment that would make even Oprah proud. Typically I have so much going on and am moving in so many different directions, that I never have any down time. You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously right now as I type this I'm catching up on Tivo'd shows, helping Numero Uno draw a Pokemon picture (and asking him to stop clearing his throat every 15 seconds -- seriously, WTH is that all about???), and trying to convince Middle Man that it's too cold outside to simply sleep in your skivvies. I'm the queen of multitasking.

The sad thing is that this queen is epic failing at all of those things that she's multitasking. The boys definitely don't get the amount of attention from me that they deserve (but seriously, show me a mom who feels like she's always doing that well, and I'll show you another queen -- the queen of denial!). On top of that I feel like I'm just barely skimming by at work and don't get the time to put in to the major project I need to work on or the other really interesting project that I think could be absolutely fascinating. I don't have the time, energy or resources to be able to volunteer in the kids' classrooms. And the house?  Let's just say if it wasn't for Blanca the Amazing House Cleaner, we'd be living in the House of Filth. I'm doing just doing enough to get by with everything. And I'm barely getting by.

I'd say that so far this blog post is a perfect example. I started out getting ready to talk about my Aha moment, and ended up talking about what a mommy failure I am.  Hmmmmm.  Anyway, Aha came when I was forced to just sit in the car with Baby Pooper while the big 'uns were in church class. Baby had not slept well the night before and his nap schedule was all wonky. I had tossed a magazine into the car and figured if anything I'd just finally catch up on the 75 magazines I have staring at me on a daily basis begging me to find out what the Spring fashions were. Spring of 2009, that is.

So there I sat. Just sat in the car and read a magazine for 30 whole blissful minutes. And at the end I realized that some of the tension in my shoulders was gone, and I could breathe just a smidge deeper. That's when I figured out that this tiny half hour of time was the first time in as long as I can remember that I was doing NOTHING. Not multi-tasking or running around or basically being my freaky self. I just sat and was me for a bit. And it felt AMAZING. It was something I swore to remember. Something I knew I could do for myself to make myself just a little less crazy, make myself a better mother, a better wife, and a better person.

The next morning I so easily almost slipped right back into my old routine. I really wanted to go to Power Yoga at the gym, but had a list of about 15,000 things to do that day. Going to the gym would suck up at least an hour and a half of my very precious day. I simply couldn't allow that, could I?  Then I stopped and remembered my recent epiphany. And although Power Yoga kicked my tail and made me sore for days, at the end I felt like I had gotten a really good massage and had taken an amazing opportunity to just BE. Even if just for an hour.

I'm not perfect. In fact, at least one week out of the month I'm the farthest thing from it. Just ask the poor testosterone-filled humans that have so share space with me during that time. But perhaps I can try to recall this little lesson every know and then and make myself at least a tiny bit calmer, happier and less-harried just by stopping and being. Even if it's just for an hour at the gym, 30 minutes in the car, or just 5 minutes while I'm nursing my last little baby (who I may decide to nurse until his 30s, just because I'm already dreading that final moment with the final baby. BOO HOO!). After all, these moments are fleeting, and I don't want to multi-task my way through it in such a way that I miss all of the fun!

"I believed in myself!"

If this story doesn't show why our school is so great, and in particular why the Adventure Education element of our school is so necessary, I don't know what does. Middleman went on his 1st grade voyage this past week. The night that he returned from the trip he had his first flag football scrimmage. The poor kiddo hadn't yet even gotten to attend a practice because we got him signed up late, but he went anyway just to see what it was all about. When he came home he was over the moon because he almost got a touchdown (apparently his flag was pulled on the 1 yard line!). He said, "Mom, I almost scored a touchdown because I believed in myself!"  I told him that was such an important thing to do, and asked him where he had learned about that (figuring I knew the answer ;). To which he said, "At camp yesterday, I had to climb over this thing that was hard to get over, and the first time I tried it I couldn't do it because I didn't believe in myself. But then I tried again and I DID believe in myself, and I DID IT!"  His smile was absolutely endless.

Seriously -- that lesson in and of itself is worth it's weight in gold. I'm so happy for my boys that they are blessed enough to go to a school that not only teaches them how to read and write, but also helps them learn how to believe in themselves. Big puffy hearts abound!  I'm one very happy mama!

Ahhhh, and so it begins again.

Although it's already the second week of school, I'm still a bit in denial. Well, that was until today.  What happened today, you ask?  Numero Uno got his first homework assignment sent home. The simplest of all assignments, that even HE was saying was too easy for him, yet we spent more time discussing why he has to do homework than actually doing the homework itself. There were even tears. Again. That in itself brings the reality of school screaming back to me. My poor buddy just hasn't found a love for school (yet?). And yet Middle Man has been begging his 1st grade teacher for homework. And today when he finished reading his book to me, he literally said, "I LOVE HOMEWORK!". Seriously? Yes, seriously.

Thus I have to ask -- what causes one to be one way, and the other to be the total polar opposite? What can I do to help instill a love for learning in one child, and cling like the dickens to the positive outlook of the other?  The funny thing is that my brother and I were exactly the same way. He couldn't stand school -- just wasn't ever really into it. I had this freakishly nerdy LOVE for all things school related. It was so much easier for me in that way, so for that reason I feel for Numero Uno. I know he's not necessarily choosing this negative mentality, though he definitely is the only one who can change it. Or is he?

I love all of my kids for their little individual personalities. I do, however, have that motherly fear of what those strong personalities will mean for them in the future. Numero Uno may just continue to struggle with "performing" as to school expectations. Middle Man may not stop being the comedian long enough to ever be taken seriously (he is beyond funny, though). And while I'm currently not yet worried that Baby Pooper will be held back by his addiction to nursing, one must never say never ;)

One thing I CAN say for sure, all three of my boys totally ROCK. Homework tears and all.

Photo Book

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Welcome, summer! Goodbye, anxiety!

Ahhhhhhh, it has begun.  The weeks that I admittedly have somewhat feared are finally here. I'm now home with THREE boys for the next 8 weeks. Yes, I fully anticipate plenty of worms, snakes, bandaids, farts, burps and boogers on the horizon. And so far I'm loving every minute of it. Well, not EVERY minute of it, but most of them.

So let's put this out there -- I'm a creature of anxiety.  No, this is not something I'm proud of in the slightest. However, as I've grown older (and wiser?) I've figured out that I'm plagued with the stuff. Normally I can take a bit of a happy pill to chill my crazy self out, but these days I'm still nursing Baby Pooper, so that's not a possibility. So instead I'm working on trying exercise and numerous attempts to have an inner dialogue in order to find some sort of Shauna Zen-like existence. Much, much easier said than done. I still occasionally panic in crowds, find myself over-analyzing numerous personal interactions (especially with friends), and worry incessantly over my kids (in particular in regards to school -- everything else is under my "control". Yeaaahh.).

Speaking of control, I'm starting to figure out that much of this anxiety is centered around exactly that. Control. Evil little monster that it is. I have none of it yet constantly seek it. Hmmmm -- sounds like my kids! Recently we found out that Middle Man didn't get the 1st grade teacher we were hoping for (she was Numero Uno's teacher, and was FABULOUS), and I obsessed about it for days. We're not talking just wishin' and a hopin' -- we're talking OBSESSED. Why did this happen? What did we do wrong? What could have been done differently? What does this mean for Middle Man?  The answer to all of these questions (and probably more!) is NOTHING. It means he has MB as a teacher and not the lovely Ms.J. Thas it! Nothing more, nothing less. He's thrilled to have many of this friends from Kindie move on with him, especially his most dear little friend LadyBug. He of course is still asking about the status of some of his *other* girlfriends as well, but we have yet to find out who they've gotten yet. My ladies man ;) Anyway, it boils down to that it seems not really be making a huge impact on his mental well being. So why did it impact me so much?

Anyway, I've got to figure out a way to not just get through the next 8 weeks, but some way to make them amazing. My boys deserve amazing, that's for sure. They are by far the most incredible little creatures on this planet (biased? Nah.), and they should have a summer to remember. And not one that's memorable because they're freaky mother obsessed about a teacher selection for 10 days straight. So I'm busy trying to build memories with them based on fun times at the pool, enjoying the library, play dates with friends, camping with more friends, hunting for snakes, spending time with the grandparents, and so on and so on.

It's going to be AMAZING (Well, I anxiously anticipate it will.)

Numero Uno's BIG week

I'm going to take a moment out here for a bit of a brag on behalf of my oldest Testosteronite. He had the biggest week last week!  Recently we had his IEP meeting, where his teacher told me that she hoped to get him to a 16 DRA (that's a reading level, for those of you without little readers) by the end of 1st grade. Considering that this is his second go-round with 1st grade (yes, I still blame you in large part, lovely "neighborhood school"), we are really hoping that this year would end on a high note for him and he could head into 2nd grade with a lot of self-confidence. On Thursday his teacher informed me that he already passed, and now they're going to see if he can start out 2nd grade and an even *higher* DRA!  Happy dance!

Then we fast forward to the other exciting moment for Numero Uno. In PE they have a climbing wall that reaches all the way to the gym ceiling. Last session that they got to climb, Numero Uno made it to about the top of my head. woo. hoo. The kiddo comes by his cautiousness honestly -- you wouldn't find me doing that at his age (or even my current age???) either. But this time he set a goal to reach the top of the wall, and by the end of the week HE DID IT!!!!  Check out the photos! 

Although it may sound like it on the surface, all of this celebrating is not just because he kicked butt last week just for the sake of being an "achiever".  Instead, I'm over the moon about the level of confidence that I saw oozing from his pores after both of these accomplishments. He's become a totally different kiddo in a matter of a week. A BIG week, but still just seven little days. I only hope that he's able to continue to grow and develop like this over the coming days, weeks and years. And I've gotta say, with the amazing school that he goes to, I just KNOW it's going to happen. Thanks goes out big time to his teacher and his SPED staff -- we love, love, love you all!

My cup runneth over <3

Running through a pool of jello

Today I found myself describing my day to my husband as feeling like I'm constantly trying to run through jello. Fighting against everything just to get even one more inch ahead of where I am, yet never feeling like I've made any headway.

My trip to Toys R Us today is a perfect example. So I drive myself all the way across town to get there in order to buy stuffed Angry Birds for the boys for Easter. Numero Uno saw one at a party this weekend that was adorableI get there and they only have the little ones. Luckily though they have 2 of the red ones and 2 of the green pigs left. That's all they've got, so I snag them up. Fast forward a few hours when I go to show hubster what I got, and he asks me why I only have 2 birds and 1 pig. Crap. I look at the receipt and see that in fact I had been charged for all 4 of the darn things, but somehow only 3 ended up in my bag. I hope against hope that it has somehow fallen out of the bag in my car. Nope. Call the store to see if they have found it at the register or something. Nope. They just tell me to call back later and check again. Yeahhhhh.

Sigh. That's why I feel like I'm running through jello. I struggle to get this thing done so I'll feel like I accomplished something today, will feel ready for the craziness that will be this weekend, and sure as heck it still goes awry.

As Numero Uno would say, I'm super "fruserated" right now. Grrrr.

Bear with me, I'm learning.

Just a bit of housekeeping for today . . .

I started this blog recently with little to no thought of safety in mind. Helllloooo . . . head must have been securely shoved somewhere unmentionable. So I've changed the title (honestly, I like this one a lot better anyway, and now it doesn't contain our last name. Again, rolling eyes at self), and have given the kids their respective nicknames for anonymity (Numero Uno, Middle Man, and baby Pooper). Seeing how hubster and I occasionally dabble in life with some unsavory characters due to our careers, this seems to be a smart move. I hope this all makes sense to anyone who reads (seriously, is there even anyone who reads? Probably not -- no need to stress then, right?). And for those of you unsavory characters that we actually invite into our lives simply for our entertainment (you know who you are), you go ahead and feel free to continue knowing our business right along with everyone's actual names. I like to live dangerously like that.

Better to grow a brain late than never, I suppose. Big ol' DOH!

Getting healthy just might kill me

So it's no big secret -- I quit working out when I found out I was pregnant last May.  Was just too afraid of losing another wee one, and felt it was safer to wait it out until I knew it had stuck. By the time I had hit my 2nd Trimester, when I knew we were golden, I was in a rut of not working out and got afraid that re-starting would actually be a bad idea too. I essentially talked myself into being a lazy a$$.

Fast forward to this week, when I decide it's time to get back into shape. After all, swimsuit (AHHHHH!) season is right around the corner, and I only have 6 months until our cruise, during which I'll be expected to wear a swimsuit (AHHHHHH!) daily for a week. Something has GOT to change. Wouldn't want to scare those Caribbean natives now, would we?

I decided to join a boot camp this week with a lady who trained me at the beginning of last year. At that time I was probably the most fit person in her group (don't be impressed -- that isn't saying much), and thought that the other girls were pretty whiny and uncommitted. I went to my first session with the same trainer, a new group on Tuesday. This time I'M the whiny and out of shape one. Those girls were hard core. Though I did (pretty much) everything she asked of us during that hour, I felt like a slug trying to wade through mud for at least the last 1/2 of it.

And now I can't move. I was expected to return today, but honestly if I can't WALK or sit down to tinkle, how on earth am I going to do 50 burpees????? It's inconceivable.

So I'm on to a new game plan. I do intend to return. I DO. However, I'm going to hold off until May. During the next few weeks I'm going to work on SLOWLY re-integrating my body into exercise. I realize that 3 weeks is essentially nothing, but I'm determined to return to this group before they think I am the slacker that I probably am.

Now to the really scary part. I'm going to use this blog to keep myself accountable. Yes, in front of the entire world (new friends, old high school nemeses, former crushes, etc., included!), I'm going to self-report. 

Almost 3 months ago when I delivered baby Pooper I weighed just over 190 (I'm honestly not sure how much above 190 I got, because I refused to acknowledge that I went above 190). Today I weigh in at 163.5.  Ouch. I'm actually going to post some measurements here soon too (once I can move my body around enough to even measure myself. Again -- ouch), because I realize that it's more about getting in shape at this point than the number on the scale. I realize this in part because I actually didn't think I was doing too badly in the low 160s, since I started out the pregnancy at 155.  However, it is now painfully (literally) clear that though the number isn't horrid, the state of my body IS.

Let the torture begin . . .

Hammerham Lincoln

In honor of the recent President's Day holiday, Middle Man had a little pearl of knowledge that he wanted to share with everyone.  As we were stuck in the car for a bit (he seems to always come up with these things in the car -- I wonder why?), he decided he needed to educate us all on one of our most famous presidents, "Hammerham Lincoln".  He told us all about how poor old Hammerham was shot in a movie "fever" (th's are still so tough for my little bug!  Just get him to tell you what planet we live on some time -- "Erf" is apparently a great place to live! he he).

Ahh, I still wee myself just a bit whenever I think of that one.  I SO don't want this kid to grow up -- I'd be perfectly happy if he was this cute little Kindergartner forever :)

Middle Man's cute-ism for today

I have the feeling that Middle Man is going to provide a TON of material for this blog.  I have to share one of his latest, before my sleep-deprived brain (thanks, baby Pooper!) forgets it (though honestly, this one is so good that I had better NOT forget it).

Yesterday, we were in the car driving to faith formation, when Middle Man said, "Hey mommy, remember yesterday when we were dancing together?" (I had turned on some recently downloaded music on I-Tunes and was dancing Pooper around in the Bjorn, and iddle Man walked by and joined in :).  I said, "Of course! What about it?"  To which he said, "When we did that, you really filled up my bucket. Miss J says that when someone does something that makes you really happy, they fill up your bucket. And mommy, dancing with you really filled up my bucket."  Oh. My. Gosh.  Seriously -- that boy is going to make a GREAT husband some day.  Puffy hearts all over the place.

And so it begins . . .

At the urging of a dear friend (love ya, Angie!), I begin my blogging journey today with a few distinct goals. The first, and perhaps primary, goal is to document the absolutely hilarious things that my children say and do on a daily basis. If it weren't for some of the nutty things done around here by the short people, I'm sure *I'd* be even nuttier myself. I also tend to think that this blog will be a service to those poor, unsuspecting souls who have the burden/pleasure of being my "friend" on Facebook. I tend to over share there, and I'm sure that there are those who would revel in the fact that I can get some of these musings out here rather than making them all endure them there. And beyond that it will give me an opportunity to get back in touch with my creative self who absolutely loves to write, and gets few chances to do so in a very interesting (translation: NON work) manner.

I am excited to begin this documentation/venting/creative writing process (and whatever else this turns out to be, in the end!). And so it begins!