Conviction.

6-26-2011 012 Sometimes I think I might be the WORST mother out there.  I’m not trying to get sympathy – just being honest.  I’m feeling super convicted tonight about the way I’ve been treating Charlie.  My mom suggested today that C’s frustrating behavior as of late could be due to the extra attention Ella’s been getting…and I think she might have hit the nail on the head.  All these months of struggle and feeding challenges and a 20 month old who is still not walking completely on her own – I wonder how my sweet eldest has dealt with all of it, emotionally.  I’ve noticed myself really praising E lately – especially as she has made such amazing progress and is doing so many cute things.  It’s sort of delayed, you know – all of these little milestones she should have reached months ago.  To see her putting the buckle of her car seat up to her ear and jabbering on to an imaginary friend – well, it’s just too much.  In a good way.  And Charlie?  She gets my raised voice, my impatience, my short temper.  She even gets shame.  Yeah, she had tinkled a little in her pants during rest time and when she came downstairs to tell me, I scolded her and hurried her into the bathroom to finish the job, scowling the whole way. Yuck. Not feeling too proud of myself tonight.  I just went up and checked on her and she’s lying sideways in the bed, deep in sleep.  She’s 3 for goodness sakes, and sometimes I expect so much more out of her – like she should just know better. The truth is, I should know better.  I’m the adult.  I’m the parent.  I’m the one who is supposed to know when to keep my cool.  I’m the one who needs to control my inner tantrum.  I’m the one who knows and recognizes my sin nature. I would throw myself in front of a bus for that little girl.  I would take a bullet for her.  Sometimes, when I think about her mortality I get a little weak in the knees.  I’m assuming she will be this little forever, that she will always be mine, that she will never  leave me. I want to love her better.  To put her needs above my own.  I want to love her unconditionally.  To be a safe respite for her – not a place of harsh words and disapproval.  I want to push my own selfishness aside and teach her the way. So, I’m praying for a better day tomorrow.  Do you ever have days where you feel like you have a lot to learn??  Where your selfishness reigns supreme??

Chatty Kathy.

As I type this, Vann is putting Charlie down for the third time.  You know you have an issue when your older child starts feeling like more “work” than your younger child – because you know, a little person who can get her own milk and go to the potty by herself should have more independence than your baby still in diapers.  Or so you would think. I love Charlie SO much.  She is a hilarious child; full of questions, spunk, and imagination.  But man, she is in a super-needy phase right now and I think she and I might benefit from a little break from each other.  I find that I yell more than I have in the past.  And when your 3 year old starts stomping around huffing and puffing in exasperation you figure she probably didn’t get it from Mickey Mouse.  Newsflash: I’m not too great at hiding my frustration.  Yeah, I know – you’re shocked. My city mom friends would tell the funniest stories about their 3-4 year olds when I had my one baby and that phase seemed forever away.  “Does she ever.stop.talking???” was a  common complaint.  Well, I can tell you, I get it now.  Case in point – This week we rented “Finding Nemo” from the library.  ALL DAY LONG Charlie was assigning names to Ella and me: C: “No, Mommy, her name isn’t Baby Ewa it’s Nemo.” C: “Mommy, what is my name again?” Me: “Uh, Marlon.” C: “Mommy, what is your name again?” Me: “Uh, Dorrie.” C: “Mommy, Nemo’s going down the potty, we have to save him.” and the usual fare: C: “Mommy, I need a snaaaaack.” C: “Mommy, I’m going to work.” C: “Mommy, do you live here?” And so it goes.  And so I say about my loveable little chica: “Does.she.ever.stop.talking???”

Inspiration.

I’m feeling inspired today. It’s great having creative friends, isn’t it??  Really, the kind that are so talented and gifted at something that you just can’t believe it? I thought I might share a few of my favorite blogs… Tracy from Sellabit Mum is a true inspiration to me.  She’s a mom of 3 girls and she gives it to you straight.  No BS, no faking it, no trying to make everything look perfect.  And yet her girls are sweet and gentle and truly good kids.  I love that she blogs about the struggles of motherhood – and of course the fantastic things too – she’s real.  My new(ish) friend Michelle has a blog called the Blah Blah Blah blog.  She is so cute.  And her house is too.  She just has that “touch”, you know?  Everything she does/writes about is magic.  My sweet friend Haley’s sister Caitlin has a wonderful blog that I just started reading and am so captivated by.  It’s called Roost.  Check it out! So speaking of creativity, I long for it in my own life.  This blog, what started out as a way to share pictures of the girls with family has really become everything to me.  Ask Vann – I am often worried that no comments equals my words out there in the blogosphere going unread.  And yet I know that I read a ton of blogs and only comment once in awhile.  But a little of this whole blogging thing is wanting approval, yes?  At least, I think so, if we are being honest with ourselves. Can I admit something to you, in this safe place I call home?  I miss the applause.  I miss hearing the praises of my work onstage.  I miss the feeling of contributing something, of being someone else, studying life…being told that I’m really good at something.  Back in the day, I was good.  Really good.  And yet, somewhere it slipped through my fingers like water.  And now that I feel like my passion for writing has been renewed through this blog, I just wish I knew the big picture.  I wish I knew what God has in store for me, for my life.  I want to feel like I’m using my gifts and talents to their fullest.  That I’m making an impact, saying something, doing it all.  I’m creating a blog for my MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group this summer.  I’ve never done anything like that before.  I’m a little scared but excited.  And of course, I’m a mom and keeping two little people alive everyday.  It’s a full-time job and I love it but I need something for me.  I have to have something for me.  So I pray for peace.  I pray that God has the perfect place (be it the stage or something else entirely) for me to express who I am: as a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  I pray for that acknowledgement.  I pray that at the end of a long day, after the girls are tucked in and the house is picked up and the sun is setting…I am not forgotten in the hustle and bustle of life.  That God doesn’t forget about me and the desires of my heart.

Fashion by C.

Ok, so it’s been awhile since I’ve posted any real pics of the girls.  Since Charlie has been expressing a lot of personal style lately, I thought I would share. Here is a shot of Charlie and her bestie Emi.  Emi and C have been buddies since they were 6 months old.  It was a riot seeing these two reunited last week when E was here for a visit.  This could be an ad for Matilda Jane, as they are pretty much head-to-toe (aside from the “Cars 2” flip-flops and “my train conductor” hat from Children’s Place).  6-17-2011 004 Next up we have a romper by Nellystella – all ready for her friend Kelly’s “Wizard of Oz” themed bday party.  Don’t you think the foam ladybug hat from Michael’s dollar section is so fetching?? 6-18-2011 003 And finally, all dressed up for Father’s Day (aside from the aforementioned flip-flops, which are now the bane of my existence because the things will not stay on her feet) in No Added Sugar, by far one of my VERY favorite brands…so splurge-worthy!! I should say that I asked her to “pose” for me and this look (complete with the hand on the hip) is what I got: 264458_10150228410167722_611007721_7090440_5399775_n Ah, my little free spirit.

Father’s Day.

Yup.  I screwed up.  All Vann wanted for Father’s Day was to sleep in.  No taking anyone to the potty, no leading girlies back to their beds, none of those fun nighttime rituals.  I had all these plans to get the ankle biters out of his hair: a walk bright and early, before it gets hot?  a trip to the donut store?  daddy waking to both Charlie and I covered in batter, baking him a Pillsbury Funfetti cake in the kitchen? Sadly, none of these things occurred because after I got up with Charlie at 6 for the standard pottydaddymommywillyouturnthetvonformeupstairs conversation, I apparently went back to bed and entered a coma-like state.  The next thing I know, it’s 8:30, Vann is doing the breakfast routine, I’m still in bed, and I have no time to get ready for church (as his other request was “going to church as a family”).  Fantastic. I’m really not sure what I did to deserve a man so giving and loving and willing to sacrifice his Father’s Day morning so that I can sleep in.  Vann and I have a pretty harmonious marriage.  But this past 18 months has been the hardest time in our relationship, and I know he goes unrecognized for all of the juggling he does in our family life.  The truth is that I couldn’t have asked for more in a husband.  God blessed me with a man who is kind, generous, selfless, and wicked smart.  Some of my favorite times with my hubby are when we are watching something on TV and he explains things to me in “layman’s terms” and we end up having these amazing conversations, about politics, and history, and life.  He is respected in his job and is notoriously a “people person” – which pretty much means that everybody loves him.   He has dreams for his family and for his girls, is fiercely protective, and has never micro-managed me or my need for time to myself or with girlfriends.  I have an amazing Dad who always puts his family first – even though I am 33 he makes sure I have good tires on my car.  He climbs up into the attic of our house in the middle of the Texas summer to check our a/c unit.  He fusses over my girls and has the answer to EVERYTHING. My Dad has lived a wild life (he was an Olympian in the 1988 Calgary games and has had lunch with Prince Albert at the palace in Monaco – just to name a couple examples), and sometimes I’m sure he is an intimidating pair of shoes to fill.  But Vann is well on his way to being the kind of father to our girls that my Dad has been to me.  And even if they don’t know it at 10, or 15, or even 25, they will – when they become mothers and get married and enter their 30’s – they will “get” it, and love him more than they ever thought possible. So honey, I’m sorry you didn’t get the morning you were hoping for.  I will try to do better next time.  Until then, know that we love you and can’t live without you. Happy Father’s Day.

A Saturday Night With Vann…and The Ladies.

So last Christmas Vann and I were at Costco and happened upon the complete series (including both movies – good and bad) of “Sex and the City”.  Of course, we had to pick it up.  Now, Courtney (my dear roomie from my first few years in Chicago) and I didn’t have HBO back in the day – so we had to meet at Tavern 33 on Lincoln Ave. to watch the show every Sunday night – back when SJP was at the height of her popularity (although I will always love her) and every single girl in the city drank Cosmopolitans.  I mean, we all had our Mr. Big’s, didn’t we?  Our Aidan’s, our Harry’s, our Steve’s?  I know I did. It never grows old.  Tonight we were watching Season 2 – when Carrie and Big get back together for the second time and he still can’t commit, yada yada yada.  Oh, the sheer reality of it all!  What it really made me wistful for was the City itself.  Getting dressed up, nights out on the town, cabs, 2 am, too much wine and a little bit of boozy kissing – let’s be honest, you know you’ve been THERE – and all.the.butterflies. So why does all of that change after you have babies?  I don’t mean it changes forEVER – like it never happens – because of course we still have date nights – but it’s just not the same, you know.  Where Vann and I are now, we hope and pray we make it till 6 am before a certain 3 year old is crying by the side of the bed complaining that her “covers are all twisted up” or the classic “I can’t find Ducky!”.  Bleary-eyed, one of us (usually Vann) leads her back upstairs to her bed.  It’s easy to romanticize the pre-kiddo days, isn’t it??  Funny how when I was on those dates with Vann all I wanted was for him to utter the words “future” or “we should do that this Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year’s”, you know, any sign of a commitment.  And now?  Commitment is what we got.  Ironic, no?? Ah, the grass is always greener, isn’t it?  I wonder sometimes if my sweet hubby wishes I put makeup on more than once a week, for church on Sunday.  I wonder if he wishes I kept a cleaner house.  I wonder if he thinks he might like to see me in something other than workout clothes. Oh, honey.  You really are the best.  The most fantastic partner, friend, father, husband.  I love you and hope you know how much your girls adore you. Here’s to more fantastic city-like date nights in our future.

A Year of My Life.

I read an article once that a high percentage of women would give up a couple years of their LIVES to have the perfect body.  Well, I didn’t take that poll but you know, I get it.  My journey with negative self-talk in regards to my body started a long time ago, and when I look back at the things I complained about when I was teeny…it makes me want to slap the old me.  Used to be, being a size 2 was the pinnacle.  I would sit in casting agency waiting rooms and inwardly freak out as model after model would filter in.  I’m sure you’ve heard this story before: my patented mantra was “I am a child of God, I am a child of God” – it was the only thing that kept me sane in that world of beautiful women.  Now, mind you, I smoked a lot of cigarettes at the time.  And I didn’t eat much.  Once when I auditioned for a “movie” (I use that term loosely only because I’m not really sure how much “production value” there was), the director told me I didn’t get the part because I needed to lose a little bit of my “roundness”.  Just wanted to let that feel good moment sink in.  See???  How can you not have a pseudo eating disorder with that kind of encouragement everyday???!!! Vann would say that back then I was never happy with my body.  Which pretty much means that my sweet hubby has had to listen to me bitch about yo-yo dieting and portion control for 6 YEARS.  Sorry, honey. Here’s what I don’t like hearing: “But think about what your body DID????  YOU GAVE LIFE TO SOMEONE!!!!”  Yes, I love my girls, but I don’t love the body they left behind.  Sound selfish??  Well.  There it is.  Let me just put out there what we are ALL thinking: after you have babies your body is just never going to be the same.  I don’t care if you’re Heidi Klum – the VAST majority of mamas in the world have to work their asses off to even attempt to fit back into those pre-prego jeans. Which brings me to yet another lifestyle change for this girl.  I’ve been working out since last fall.  I’ve done boot camps, started walking outside again with the girls, anything and everything to help jumpstart this process back to the old me.  When I didn’t reach my goal by my birthday in March, I turned it up a notch.  I discovered Turbofire.  I’ve been taking Turbokick classes and spin (and doing TF dvd’s at home) for over 6 weeks now.  4-5 days, sometimes 6, a week. Never in my life have I ever done this much bleeping cardio.  And I step on the scale at a friend’s house (because I don’t own one) and wait for it…I’ve GAINED weight.  Errr.  What??  Not a ton, but a little, enough to worry me and enough to scare me off of alcohol (because even if it’s a Skinnygirl margarita, it defeats the purpose if you have them every night of the week) and my nightly S’more.  I just don’t get it!!  I’m not sure if I’ve been over-compensating for the huge amount of exercise I’ve been doing by buying a little more ice cream, or indulging in another glass of wine…thinking that if I’m burning 600 calories in class I can surely have the freedom to eat what I want.  Sigh.  So would I give up a year of my life to not have to work so hard??  To have a lean surfer’s body like my girl Cam??: SNF19BIZS-280_1254933a Possibly.  Most likely.  But, if it matters, I have learned how to throw a mean punch.

Stretch Marks.

So, this morning Charlie and I were doing our usual dance:  I tell her to go potty (she can do it BY HERSELF now, you know – she likes to remind me). I watch her streak naked through the living room as she chases the cat. I tell her with a slightly raised voice to go potty so we can leave. She picks up tampons and offers them to invisible friends as “Smarties”, to which I tell her no, no, those aren’t edible. I yell at her to go to the potty or I’m leaving without her.  She tells me she loves the color pink and goes.  But not without telling me where the tee-tee is coming from.  Beautiful. Anyhoo – this morning I was getting dressed as we were doing our dance and she walks right up to me, points at my stomach and says, “Mommy??  Why you have these??  Did you get old like Mimi??” Silence.  Crickets.  “Um”, I reply, “No, no, honey.  These are what Mommies sometimes get after they have a baby in their tummies.” “Oh.”  She pauses.  “I want to be Pingu for Halloween!!” So naturally this is how I dealt with the feel-good comment of the day: IMG00152

Just Some Odds and Ends.

We just dropped Baby Ella off at Mimi’s house yesterday – she’ll be there for a week and I think it will be great for all involved.  I really do feel like God has renewed my affection for my littlest one these past couple months.  She is coming into her own, but anyone who’s had an 18 month old knows it is one of the most exhausting stages in early child parenting (at least, in my own humble opinion).  She’s so BUSY.  I cannot take my eyes off that girl and she’s already zipped up the back stairs.  And the sibling stuff – omg it is just so exhausting, and it’s just beginning.  So to have a week with just one of them is really a gift, for them and for me.  So far, I’m told Baby E has walked the length of my parent’s house with her shopping cart about 10 times.  She’s even stepped away from the table towards my mom, without holding onto anything.  It really is only a matter of time before she is running everywhere.  What an enormous blessing!!  She’s a feisty one.  At 19 months, E definitely has her opinion on things.  She has a temper, and isn’t afraid to let you know when you’ve sufficiently ticked her off.  On the other hand, she has the cutest giggle and “talks” constantly, often using any small object as her cellphone.  It’s pretty darn cute. So what on earth, you may be wondering, are you going to do for a week as a one child household??  Weeeelll, I’m glad you asked because I have plans; pool dates with friends, a long, leisurely stroll through Central Market, a kid’s matinee or two, daily gym visits (as I should have no fear of being called down to collect a screaming baby) and some quality one on one time with C. We are in the midst of a struggle with our oldest and I’m not sure what to do.  She’s been waking up in the middle of the night, hysterical and irrational, wanting to sleep in our room.  Charlie has always been an amazing sleeper, since she was 6 weeks old…Vann and I are at our wit’s end with these midnight temper tantrums.  A friend recommended this book – it seems that many of our friends who have 3-4 year olds are dealing with some type of behavioral struggle these days.  So, this might be the week to give it a try.  In other less serious news, we’ve decided to have our guest bedroom and bath done this summer.  This bathroom about did me in – and we almost didn’t buy this house because I was so turned off by it: 243217_10150210591667722_611007721_6925908_6650731_o I know,  I know, if it’s cosmetic, it can be fixed!!  Haven’t you ever watched HGTV??!!!  I admit, I was bothered by the cosmetic updating that needed to be done.  After almost a year of living here, I recognize we bought a wonderful house on an excellent lot and with love and care, and yes, money, we will be able to put our stamp on it and make it (even more) fabulous.  So, the first step, is tackling our “patriotic bathroom” and removing the lovely stars and stripes border and spongy blue wallpaper, then texturing and painting.  After poring over painting magazines all weekend, I think we might be going with a lilac, orange, chocolate brown, and white palette – with both rooms coordinating in some way.  Can you tell I’m a little geeked about it??  Anyway, nothing too earth-shattering on this end to report.  I’m looking forward to a little less busyness this week.

Anniversary.

This weekend marks a very bittersweet anniversary.  On this day a year ago, our apartment was totally boxed up and ready to load.  The girls were safely in Texas already, and Vann and I were saying our last goodbyes to the city that was our home and the birthplace of our family.  I will never, ever forget that feeling – a year from this coming Sunday I stood in our alley and kissed my hubby goodbye and watched he and his Dad drive away, two 16 foot trucks filled with our worldly possessions.  I said thank you to our motley crew of sweet men who came to help us, fighting to hold back the tears but ultimately losing it in front of them, causing lots of shuffling feet and sidehugs.  I sobbed as I made my way up the back porch into our empty apartment – this precious home where we walked through so much happiness and so much struggle.  I stayed back for the weekend to clean and hand in our keys. I just re-read this post about our old home and man, I am in tears once again.  A whole year has passed in the blink of an eye and yet it still feels like it happened just yesterday. I watched Oprah’s finale last night, and one thing she said really resonated with my heart: "I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common: They all wanted validation. If I could reach through this television and sit on your sofa or sit on a stool in your kitchen right now, I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: ‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?” I felt like God knocked me upside the head.  I’m laying in bed with Vann next to me asleep, and I’m crying, and in my mind I’m screaming, “Oh Thank the Lord it’s not just me!” A year ago one journey was ending and a new one was beginning.  We left the safe place, we knew the rules, we knew how to play the game, in Chicago. I admit, I don’t know how to play the game yet here in our new life.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t learn.  And I know that God is always here, waiting for me to be still…and listen.