Blogger Fail

I know 10 years from now -- shoot, probably five years from now -- I will look back at the last nine months and kick myself. There are so many moments that I've missed writing about -- so many stories I never finished writing about (see: birthday party and house renovations). So, I've decided to write a letter reminding myself why I failed to capture those memories. 

Dear Self, 

Let me first say, you're a rock star. :)

But since last fall you have — how do I say this nicely — totally sucked at blogging. Most of it was out of your control. Being a stay-at-home Mom and being a stay-at-home employee left you very, very little time for extracurricular activities. And since you wake up at 4:30 in the morning, most of the time, when you did get a break, you slept. 

That being said, get ahold of yourself, woman. Get more organized. Get a little structure. And write down these moments. Because honestly, the hilarity of your life right now needs to be publicly witnessed. 

So, get on the ball. And start documenting. 

Love,

Your very smart, beautiful Self

Nudists

Each morning last week when I went to fetch the girls, everything on their beds --  blankets, babies, stuffed animals -- was sprawled on the floor. And the first thing Claire said when I walked in the room? "I trow bankies on da plor." (I throw blankets on the floor). 

Yesterday when I walked in, same thing. All blankets, babies and stuffed animals piled in a heap right in front of their beds. 

As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I noticed a few additions to the pile. Pants, shirts, DIAPERS. I looked up . Sure enough, I had two stark naked babies looking back at me. 

Hilarious and gross (re: diapers) all at the same time. 

I Can't Like That

Lately, Claire has taken to saying "I can't like that" in response to anything that she doesn't want to do -- well, that and the ol' standard "no."

"I can't like that book."

"I can't like pizza."

"I can't like take nap."

I much prefer it to the straight "no" because it's usually said with less sass and more  "Mom, I really want to eat my vegetables today. Really, I do. I just can't."

How can you argue with that?

On Being 30

This week I turned the big 3-0. How strangely different it feels than when I turned 20  -- mostly because it doesn't feel strange at all. 

I feel like I know who I am the most on this birthday than any birthday before it. And I wouldn't trade that confidence for any carefree year of my 20s. 

As I was laying awake the night before my birthday, Scott asked me "Are you scared to be 30?" 

I laughed so hard, I nearly choked. 

Scared? Heck no. 

I welcome the confident, wise, mature person I'm becoming. 

I welcome the "I don't care what you think about me" attitude as I walk into Target unshowered after a long work day. 

I welcome the "I'm a pale, freckle-faced ginger who doesn't tan" pride that my younger self never had. 

I welcome the ability to put myself in others' shoes in a way I didn't experience before. The exhausted mother who snaps at her whiny kid in Target doesn't mean she's a horrible mom, it just means she's surviving. The guy who cut you off in traffic isn't necessarily a jerk, he might just be late to work after his kid had a meltdown that morning. 

So … am I scared? 

Nah. I'm ready. 

At least for the next nine years. Then I might reconsider.  

Spring Awakening

So, there's something I've been keeping from you. 

Mostly because I would rather you love me than hate me. 

And, if you're a parent, my secret is definitely something that would make you hate me.

It started last fall. Around November-ish. We were staying at my parents quite a bit during that time and got into this strange schedule where the girls kept getting to sleep later and later -- and subsequently started waking later and later. 

We were eventually to the point where they were going to bed around 11 p.m. and sleeping until 11:30 or noon. Eating breakfast when everyone else was eating lunch, eating lunch when everyone else was eating snack and napping from about 4:30-6:30. 

It was a crazy life we were living. But it worked for us. By the time they were waking up in the "morning," we had nearly eight hours of work done. 

But, alas. Spring has come, and my little hibernating bears have crawled out of their caves.

  

This past week, we have gone to bed at a fairly consistent time, but each day they woke up about 15 minutes earlier than the day before. This morning it was 9:45. So, so early compared to our winter schedule. 

As I'm writing this, complaining about the early hour of 9:45, it occurs to me that you actually probably still hate me. 

Maybe I'll just shut up now. 

Yes, Mama

While we were working on the house, we stayed with my parents. We didn't want to move all of our stuff in before we painted and put down new carpet, so we had a really extended sleepover. 

At my parents house, the girls each slept in their own playpen. And yes, if you're wondering, they are just about to be too long for that to work anymore. 

In some ways, it's nice. They sit right next to each other, talking before they fall asleep or first thing in the morning. 

In other ways, though, it's become a bit of a problem. 

We put them to bed, said our goodnights and headed out the door. A few minutes later, Grace started crying. Then the crying turned to screaming and the screaming turned into "MOTHER, GET IN HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" 

I opened the door -- it was pitch black -- went over to Grace's bed and bent over to pick her up. Lifted her up and realized the baby I was holding wasn't Grace. 

"Claire, did you get into Grace's bed?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Were you kicking her?" 

"Yes, Mama." 

"Do you think you should get back in your bed?" 

"Yes, Mama."

Homecoming

So, we bought a house at the end of February. 

I haven't had a chance to share the news with you because of work and life and the havoc that buying the house has caused on my sleep schedule. 

After a six-month search, many houses seen, and a few snatched from us, we stumbled upon this beauty. 

She has character. She has enough space for our current family and any potential expansions. She brings with her a fun backyard that I immediately envisioned the girls playing in. And she's close to everything -- no more 20-minute drives just to get to the store. 

In short, we love her. 

But she was a bit outdated. She was an older lady who never changed her hairstyle and still wore gaudy floral wallpaper. 

So, since we closed the deal, we have been giving her a makeover. New paint, new carpets, new flooring. And although she is really starting to shine, the process has taken its toll on Scott and I, who get up every morning at 4 a.m., the girls who are being lugged back and forth multiple times a day between the new house and Grandma's and my poor, poor family -- who has been doing the bulk of the work. They have been fantastic. While I sat at Grandma's, working and waiting for the girls to wake up from nap, they were building walls, ripping out carpet and working their tails off.  I couldn't be more grateful for them. 

Aside from March's Maddening Makeover, we are so completely excited to move in. The house will be great, the neighborhood is great, but most of all, we're excited to move home. Although this isn't Scott's official hometown, there's something about it that makes it feel like coming home. 

There's a beauty and an energy to this town that you don't find elsewhere. That's something I didn't fully understand until after I moved away. I've lived in bigger cities and smaller cities, but nothing has ever felt as right as this city. And I can't wait to raise my girls here. 

Still to come: Keep your eyes peeled for the full home makeover post with before and after pictures. A sneak preview: we ditched this railing and thanks to my brother, replaced it with a true work of art.