Five.

Happy 5th birthday to my big-hearted, larger-than-life Calvin. Love you always, my sweet Bub.

Curiouser and curiouser.

I think the most curious aspect of Audra's Curious George birthday party is why I failed to get any pictures after weeks worth of preparation.

No big deal, though. One of the things I've been trying to do this year is let the little stuff go.

LET IT GO! LET IT GO! CAN'T HOLD IT BACK ANYMOOOOOOORE.*

You're welcome for that. And this.

Anyway, as you well know, I love planning parties for my kids. And friends. And anyone else who will let me. If event planning didn't require evenings and weekends, I'd be all over that job. But I am a detail-oriented control freak, and while that often results in nice-looking parties, it also results in anxiety and crazy making (for me and those who love me and especially those who live with me).

So. Even though I love it, it sometimes stresses me out. And that's stupid because birthdays are fun and parties are fun and no one cares about the exact angle of the drink bucket except me and I am honestly a bit of a whackadoodle. So I'm pushing myself to stop and walk away if party planning moves from love to stress.

I would say I did a pretty good job of that at this party. Almost everyone showed up before I was ready for them, which was no big deal. They wanted to help and I let them. In fact, the party started without me even realizing it, which is ultimately why I didn't get any pictures. It was just easy and fun and exactly what a kids birthday celebration should be.

I mean, I would have LIKED some pictures of everything looking perfect. But I guess if I had to choose I would rather just enjoy myself and my family and my friends and the ice cream sundae bar.

Because that happened, and it was glorious.

Unlike Audra's reaction to her party and everyone in attendance. Although her lack of reaction is sort of glorious in its own special way. 

It was fun. It was cute. Everyone crammed merrily into my tiny house and I got next to no pictures and my eye only twitched anxiously for a few seconds over the crooked drink bucket.

I'm breezy like that.

But I did try to recreate just a bit the next day. A tiny bit. I mean, it would be a real shame if Audra didn't have pictures of her second birthday party! Nevermind the fact that she isn't in any of them.

*Calvin's birthday is in two weeks. Guess what kind of party he's having?

December baby.

Audra turned two on the 27th, while we were in Illinois for Christmas with my parents. We had a sweet, simple day of celebrating our big girl: a trip to see Frozen, games, cupcakes, and presents.

Nana let her lick the frosting.

Happy girl.

Hours of entertainment.

Birthday lovin' from Nana and G-Pop.

Her trademark nervous eye rub.

Dad did the honors.

Time for a checkup. Good thing we know all these nurses.

Dr. Audra taking care of her baby.

Shots for dad.

Rocking Tiny Baby.

I'm thankful every day for the little brown-eyed love who made our family whole. What an incredible blessing it has been to watch her grow these last two years...the fastest, sweetest years of my life.

 

Happy birthday, Peanut Butter.

The baby of the family.

The other evening Nate made a pointed but fair statement:

"Your mom can't say no to you, Audra. This is a problem."

As the oldest kids in both of our families, Nate and I have often discussed how our siblings had (have?) it easier than the two of us. We have to meet the crazy high expectations, abide by the over-the-top rules, and fight all the tough fights with our parents...and then our siblings reap the benefits of our work. I have many examples of this (ahem, not being able to ride in a car with a teenage driver until I was in nearly in college) but I will spare you my sob stories.

I have always found this double standard irritating at best. And yet, I find myself in the same spot with my own children. Everything was by the book with Calvin. Everything is off the cuff with Audra.

Nate's right. I can't say no to her.

I do, of course. I haven't totally given up on being a good parent. But honestly, I rarely have to. She's so sweet, so easygoing, so CUTE.

The cuteness is my undoing. Much like her brother, girlfriend has charm for miles. She can be a huge troublemaker, but she smirks at us with this adorable "you know you love it!" face and I can't even deal...much less discipline her without wanting to scoop her up and kiss her face.

The baby who refused to let me cuddle her now whispers "I snuggle you, mama" every night before bed while resting her little head on my chest. (Quickly followed by "I go in my bed now." She's still pretty independent.) She loves singing with me at night — her favorites are ABCs, I Cast All My Cares Upon You, and Jesus Loves Me. She can also be found singing Ring Around the Rosy, Bringing Home My Baby Bumblebee, and Go Tell It On the Mountain at various points throughout the day.

She loves her babies (Baby Dolphin, Baby Girl, Tiny Baby). She carries them around the house, wraps them up, rocks them and feeds them. I recently caught her rocking Tiny Baby and whispering "oh baby oh baby oh baby oh" to her...the same rhythmic line I whispered to both of my babies when they were tiny and inconsolable.

Calvin is her greatest comforter, tormentor, and friend. She calls him "My Calvin." Almost exclusively. When she's upset, she runs over to him for a hug and a "shhhhh, it's okay Audra." When he leaves her room at bedtime she sobs and calls for him. Every fight they have ends the same: A big hug, then "Sorry, Audra." "Sowwy, Calvin."

She loves clothes, shoes, and accessories, and she has definite opinions on all three. I bought her a pair of gold mary janes to wear on Christmas — she's worn them with pjs, with jeans and a sweatshirt, to church and school and everywhere in between. They are her "fancy shoes" and she requests them daily. "I nee my fancy shoes!"

Her tantrums are an adorable series of rapid stomps. She screams a high pitched "EEEEEEEEEE!" constantly — usually out of sheer delight. Sometimes in conjunction with the stomps.

She says "I hold you" when she wants to be picked up; "I gotchu mama" when she wants me to hold her or while giving me a hug.

If you say "I love you sooooo much!" she will reply "so much YOU!" 

She calls Mattie "Mannie." The other day Nate overheard her saying "Hi Mannie guwl, hi Mannie! Good guwl, Mannie."

She says "I a big guwl! I two!" When I ask her what kind of birthday party she's having next week, she says "Two party! George!"

She loves dress up. And carrying Cal's lego guys around. She likes to cook in her play kitchen, and makes little plates of things to bring downstairs to her daddy.

Everything is "mines" right now. And her lunch? "That's mines yunch!"

She got a backpack like Calvin's for Christmas. She calls it her "packpack" and whenever she sees it says "I nee my packpack!"

Nothing makes her happier than being flipped around. She's a maniac. She'll climb up on the couch next to us, say "Weady? One, two, freeee!" then free fall. Quickly followed by "again, again!"

She loves movies. We took the kids to see Frozen on her birthday; she watched almost the entire thing from her own seat. On New Year's Eve, while all the other kids were running around screaming, she quietly sat on the couch and watched Despicable Me 2.

Dairy is her lifeblood. "Milky" is her favorite thing on earth, followed closely by cheese.  She gets hangry just like her mama — food solves almost any tantrum. She's a good eater, except she won't touch a baked good. She looks at cupcakes and donuts with disdain.

I just love her. So much. If there was any way to stop time, I'd stop it now. I mourn the loss of Calvin's baby and toddlerhood so much — it was here and gone before I even realized it, and now it's so hard to remember my handsome big kid as the equally precious and adorable toddler he was then. I know the same will be true with Audra all too soon, which is why I'm far less concerned about doing everything right this time. All I want is to soak her up while I have her. And if that means saying "no" a little less and enjoying her toddler antics a little more...well, so be it.

Sorry, Cal. Welcome to the oldest kid club. I know it's not fair, but you'd better get used to it.

 

 

 

Audra's two year stats: 25lbs 12oz (37th percentile) and 36" tall (93rd percentile)

T-shirt.

I adore this kid. He is charming and brilliant and hilarious and kind and tenderhearted and so darned loveable.

He's also struggling with what appears to be a behavior disorder. Right now Nate and I are swimming in paperwork and copays and appointments and evaluations and the overwhelming knowledge that there's a long road ahead for our little guy.

In the midst of all this uncertainty, fear and sadness, I wish I had a t-shirt that explained our situation.

WE KNOW.
WE'RE TRYING.
THIS ISN'T WHAT DEFINES HIM.
BE PATIENT.
BE KIND.
LOVE HIM ANYWAY.

Please love him anyway. Please don't exclude him or give us dirty looks or keep your child away from ours. Please don't stare at me with judgment while I try, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, to coax him to do things that come easily to most children while he runs away and screams at me. Please forgive him when he does something he shouldn't. He knows better. He just can't always do better. We're working on that.

We're good parents.
He's an awesome kid.
We're trying.
Be patient.
Be kind.
Love us anyway.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart).

"Why are you so sad when I go? Is it because your heart misses my heart?"

So little time for blogging about our life right now. We're too busy living it. But these little moments, these small, gentle conversations between my children. The tenderness with which my big boy talks to my little girl, the friendship and joy they have in each other right now...I don't want to forget this.

 

She answered her brother with a tear-filled "yesh." I don't doubt it.

14 days.

This came in the mail last Thursday:

A friendly little reminder that the only thing traveling faster than light is time.

Four years. Zap, bam, boom. Gone. My baby's heading off to kindergarten next year. As a working mom, I wonder how I will feel on his first day of school. Will it be any harder than handing him over to a stranger for 10 hours a day at four months old? Peeling him off my legs every morning for two months straight after a childcare transition? Listening to him scream my name as I walked down the hallway and back out to my car for a quick cry before heading off to work?

Last night as I snuggled with him before bed, Calvin asked if he had to go to school again today. I said yes, and he said "I don't want to go to school tomorrow! Can't we just stay home for 14 days?"

That kindergarten letter hit me hard. But it was nothing compared to the wave of grief I felt hearing him ask "can't we just stay home for 14 days?" Because, no. We can't. We can't stay home for 14 days this month or next month or any month in the near future. We can't stay home for 14 days while you're small and needn't be anywhere but home, and I'm not sure we'll be able to stay home 14 days when you're big and off for summer vacation and all your friends are home, either. Your mom works, so…no. We can't stay home. And it breaks my heart, because I know how much of your childhood I'm missing. How much we're asking of you to spend 10 hours a day somewhere other than your home with people other than your family. How unfair it is for you to have a school schedule before you've even reached school age. I know you don't want to go to school tomorrow, buddy. I wish you didn't have to.

I didn't say that. I hugged him tight and told him I understood, that I don't like Mondays either, and that I wished we could spend 14 days at home together because that would be so much fun. I sang to him, prayed with him, kissed him goodnight. And then I went downstairs and watched last week's Grey's Anatomy. The main storyline? How much it sucks to be a working mom.

Does it ever.

I know I'm a good mom. My kids are loved and treasured and safe and happy and we make the most of the time we have together. I work because my family needs me to and because I (mostly) like to, and I try not to feel guilty about that.

But sometimes? Sometimes it just sucks.

Hold the cheese.

Audra, who didn't smile for the first year of her life, has recently become rather agreeable when it comes to taking pictures. The trick? Teaching her to say "CHEESE!" whenever I need her to smile for a photo. She loves it. And she belts it out at the top of her lungs like it's her job, which is fine by me. I'm not going to deter a kid who's willing to work, even if she's loud enough to interrupt phone conversations two towns over.

We took the kids to the Children's Museum on Saturday afternoon, and in typical mamarazzi fashion, I spent the better part trying to capture their fun on my iPhone. Expecting nothing but more "CHEESE!" from Audra, I crouched down with my phone to take a picture of my big girl carefully navigating the steps on her own — a newly acquired skill.

But I did not get "CHEESE!" I got this blurry picture:

and a stern "NO CHEESE! NO. CHEESE. MAMA!"

Well, okay then. Guess I'll be resorting to Cal's preferred method of photographic bribery (candy corn) sooner than I thought.

Love it and list it.

1. I'm wearing red skinny pants today. I think I love them. Can't speak for anyone else, however, as I am not skinny and they might not love seeing me in them. But I did go the extra mile and cover my rear end with a tunic, so hopefully that helps keep most of the "ew why is she wearing those pants" thoughts/comments at bay. Anyway, red pants offer a nice bit of cheer on a dark and dreary day. Even if they draw more attention to my "assets" than the general public would prefer.

2. Said tunic is this year's Target special and you should all get on it because they go fast. I snagged last year's version too late and ended up with a color I would not have otherwise chosen but it is dang hard to find tunics if you don't shop at Chicos. And I missed the previous year's version altogether which makes me want to cry a little because it had front pockets. Do you know how much I love a good front pocket? Last year's version had side pockets that came out when I walked (this probably doesn't happen to girls without a chip and dip hobby) and this year's version has no pockets. Next year's version may not even have sleeves, since it seems to be losing a little bit of fabric every year, so I would highly recommend you strolling through the Merona section and picking up one or five of these suckers…particularly if you own red pants and need the coverage.

3. If you noticed a frizzy blonde girl in a black minivan singing her heart out on the way to work, it was probably because of Sara Bareilles's The Blessed Unrest. I. am. in. love. This album, seriously. Every time I hear Little Black Dress I want to get up and sing into a curling iron and dance around. Which is awkward, since I listen to it a lot at work.

4. Audie stayed home sick with Nate today, and when I got ready to leave she came over put her arms up and said "I hold you?" My little Calvin used to say that exact thing and to this day it is one of my very favorite phrases either of my children has uttered. I wanted to cry, but instead I just scooped up that little muffin and hugged her so so so tight. And then she kissed me on the lips and I got in the car and smeared hand sanitizer on my mouth because I HATE BEING SICK and they don't make antibacterial lip gloss.

It did not taste good. But it tasted better than puke, which is the alternative. And probably the reality even after the hand sanitizer lip scrub because I have a knack for getting whatever they get. 

5. On the subject of kissing, Audra honks our nose after every kiss. And says "honk." She's real cute.

6. I've had my first, second, and third pumpkin spice latte of the season. Our freezer is stocked with various homemade breads and I'm going to make soup this weekend. It's officially fall. Time to break out the panel pants and settle in for eating season!

(Don't make that face. I know I'm not the only person who hung on to those post-pregnancy.)

7. Trying to decide what my fall fashion must-haves are. After attending a few runway shows with my friend Jo last week (it was Minnesota Fashion Week. Stop laughing.), I know for sure that I need an ankle-length octopus sweatshirt, a feather headdress, and an oversized hospital robe. And maybe some oxfords, since women wearing clunky men's shoes is a trend I just can't get enough of.

The highlight of the night was definitely when a frumpy middle-aged teacher asked us where we got our shoes and we were able to coolly answer "Payless" and "Aerosoles."

Those two responses summarize Minnesota Fashion Week better than a photo ever could.

8. I think I'm going to grow my hair out. I don't know why, except I miss the option of having a messy bun and I'm tired of haircuts that grow out too fast because I don't have time to get them as frequently as needed.

Nevermind. I guess I do know why. SLOTH.

9. Let me know if you're watching anything new that you really love this season. We didn't add much to our repertoire. Nate's watching The Blacklist, we're both watching Brooklyn Nine Nine (not sure how long that will be amusing), and I kinda liked the pilot for Mom, but haven't watched a second episode. I also gave The Mindy Project another shot and I'm glad I did. So funny. But I need to know if I'm missing anything great. Besides Scandal and Parks and Rec. And please don't recommend the Big Bang Theory because I do not get nerd humor, math, science, or the appeal of that show.

10. My kids are obsessed with their Bibles. We finished reading The Jesus Storybook Bible with Calvin last week, but he's still requesting it every night before bed. I will gladly read that with him every night from now until forever because I love that he's soaking up truth and also because it means I don't have to read Dr. Seuss. (I am such a scrooge.) Also, Audra's little My First Read and Learn Bible is a bedtime staple. She likes to point out Noah. And say "Bible." Upwards of eight hundred times per day.

Nothing like a toddler running around shouting "Bible" to make you feel like you've done something right.

Turning the page.

We're done having babies. We don't have the money, room, or sanity for more children and while I fully believe God spends a lot of time laughing at my plans, Nate and I are doing our part to prevent the arrival of any more Breyer babies. If God chooses to send us more despite our best efforts, well — that's up to Him. But they'd better be accompanied by a bag of cash or giant check because oh boy. Childcare is not cheap, friends.

Most of the time I have peace about this decision. Working full-time and raising kids is no easy task, and I tend to hover somewhere between "stretched pretty thin" and "about to snap" as it is. I can't imagine needing to attend to another person's needs when I'm barely attending to my own. Do you know how many days a week I show up to work with food on my pants? Most to all.

There is no way I could handle a baby right now. Knowing that doesn't seem to be enough to deter the pregnancy and baby pangs, though.

My sister-in-law, who just gave birth to her first child, recently told me she felt like she was the only pregnant woman on earth. And I laughed, because I've felt the opposite. From where I stand, everyone is pregnant. Friends, family, pretty much everyone at Target. And adorably so. I can't help but look at their bellies wistfully, remembering how it felt to have my own tiny babes kicking away inside me.

Last week we met our nephew for the first time, and I turned into a puddle of sweet-talking goo. Nate and I left the NICU and I was like "Remember when that was us? Don't you miss those early days with a newborn? Doesn't it make you want to do it again?" He said "no" without hesitation. But the memory of rocking my babies into the wee hours flooded my mind and my heart and it hurt.

It also made me question our decision. Is this it? Are we really done? How can you ever close a chapter that sweet?

Deep down, I know that our family is complete. I love my children, and I feel so blessed that I get to not only experience motherhood, but the unique relationship between a mother and daughter and a mother and son. My kids are such a gift. But they are also a lot of work, and right now we have our hands full. I think ahead to school and sports and activities and all the exciting things Calvin and Audra will be doing soon and I have no idea how I will be there for them in the ways I want to be while also working the way I am now. How much harder would that be with another child?

It's easy to romanticize having another baby, because there is nothing in life more wonderful than breathing in the smell of your baby's head while they sleep on your chest. Heaven on earth. But that form of heaven only lasts so long. And that, right there, is my problem.

Every baby I see, every pregnant tummy I meet, reminds me of one simple truth: my children are growing up, and I am helpless to stop it.

Calvin is a kid now. He climbs everything, jumps off everything. He talks back. He bites his nails and his feet stink from days filled with running. He hates taking baths and he begs to watch TV shows featuring superheroes and Lego Ninjas and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He says he wants to be a crystal finder when he grows up, and the tiny sparkling rocks all over my house support his claim. He dresses himself every day and his hair sticks up and he almost always has snot on his sleeve. He doesn't need help brushing his teeth anymore. He clears his own plate, gets his own glass of water. His beloved bear has been mostly relegated to his bedroom, and he no longer asks to take it to school. There is nary a trace of baby left in my firstborn.

Audra is nearing the end of her babyhood. Three months shy of turning two, my girl looks older every day. She chatters constantly, and has pulled together a full sentence or two within the last week. She sings little bits and pieces of Ring Around the Rosy, ABCs, Are You Sleeping, Jesus Loves Me, and various pop songs. She can count to five, and has started identifying a few colors. She wants to stand and pee in the toilet like her big brother. Her hair has gotten so long that we have to do it every day — pigtails, ponytails, barrettes. She helps dress (and undress) herself, and can put her shoes on without help. She runs, climbs, giggles, and plays. She's far more interested in her brother's toys than her own, and has claimed his Woody doll as her own. She pushes Captain America around in her stroller. She feeds her babies dinner and rocks them at bed. She throws tantrums that can be heard five towns over. She still has dimples on her hands and rolls on her thighs, but I'm not fooled. I know how close we are to kid-dom.

Those pangs I keep having? They don't have anything to do with me wanting more babies. I don't want more babies. I want the babies I have to stay small, tucked safely in my arms where I can breathe in the smell of their little heads forever. Having more children wouldn't stop the pangs from coming. If anything, it would only distract me from them for another two years — a band-aid fix for a heart condition without a cure.

It hurts to let go, to close such a sweet chapter with my children. But that's what motherhood is. Sweetness and sorrow. I may never be able to hold a baby without my heart aching a little bit, but that's good. That ache serves as a beautiful reminder of all I have been blessed to experience as a mother to my children.

We're done having babies, but we're just getting started raising kids.

There is still so much sweetness ahead.

Entrenched.

Before we had kids, "getting away" meant far away. Like, on a plane. To a beach. With drinks and sand and books and guacamole.

Guacamole is definitely one of my love languages.

When you're in the trenches of parenthood, "getting away" takes on a broader definition. Like a trip to Target alone. Or a root canal.

Seriously. Some days a root canal would honestly be preferable to one more minute in my house with bickering children. At least I'd be alone and the only one screaming.

Nate and I are definitely in the trenches. And it's not fun. Filled with beautiful, joyful, precious moments with our sweet kids that we will surely miss someday? Yes. But fun for us as a couple? Eh. Honestly, right now it's a lot of work just getting from point A to point B every day without biting each other's head off. Turns out when you spend 15 hours a day giving everything you have to your children and job, there is very little left to give your spouse. These days the bulk of our conversation takes place on the couch from 9-10pm and is usually a combination of the following statements:

"Should we water the flowers?" (Yes. Ugh. Be back in a minute.)
"What do you want to watch tonight?" (Arrested Development.)
"Do we have any ice cream?" (Silly question.)
"Will you get up and get it while I switch the laundry?" (Sure.)
"Did you remember to give the dog her pill?" (Yes, Abby. I always do.)
"Don't forget we have to take more diapers to daycare." (Run upstairs for diapers.)
"I'm exhausted, let's go to bed." (Finally.)
"Ugh, the sheets are in the washer. Let's just sleep on the mattress pad." (Too tired to care.)
"Will you let the dog out while I get us some water?" (Sure.)
"ARGHHHH, the outside light is still on!" (I'll go back down.)

Riveting, right? I just can't understand why we're not having more fun!

Thank the good Lord for grandparents. For our anniversary this year, Nate's parents gave us a gift card to a hotel in downtown Minneapolis. It graciously included free childcare, which was a good thing because my feelings on staying in a hotel with small children lie somewhere between "NO" and "HECK TO THE NO."

Saturday morning we shipped our kids off to grandma and grandpa's, traded our minivan for my mother-in-law's convertible, and headed downtown for 24-hours of much-needed fun.

It's amazing what 24 hours can do for a relationship. 

Look, I got dressed and put on makeup! On a weekend!

Hot dogs at the Walker. Enormous.

Cute hubs.

So close.

Game faces. (He beat me by 2 points.)

Amazing.

Sorry, I'm one of those annoying people who take pictures of my food.

Bacon confit. If you insist.

Well-rested and well-fed.

Wind in our my hair.

We may not have gotten away away, but we did get far enough to remember just how happy we are to be in the trenches together.