36 Years of Rick

Happy 36th Anniversary to my Marms and Dad

Love is all you need.

Plans are Made for Breaking

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future..."  -Jeremiah 29:11


I have a hard time with this verse.  Mainly because I want to know what these plans entail and how/when they will be brought about.  Being able to go with the flow and know that life is not in my hands is one of the most difficult lessons I have to learn.

This weekend has been trial by fire.  I had made all sorts of fun plans for the last two days and then life happened.  Eli got sick, Ben was gone for two days, Eli had night terrors two nights ago and woke up every hour, Eli was awake last night from 2:30 - 5 a.m. I am going on 8 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours (I need about 8 hours a night in order to not make people cry using just my words), my hair dryer quit mid-dry yesterday, and Blockbuster didn't have the second Sherlock Holmes movie yesterday. (I know you're thinking, duh, get Netflix.  We don't do fancy streaming technology in this house. So, just...okay?) Oh, the madness.

Reading this last paragraph,  I know you're saying to yourself, "Suck it up, Parker.  This is it?! Over-dramatic much?"

And then I would say, "Your FACE is over-dramatic, fart face."

And then I would acquiesce.  You're right.  It's not that bad.  So what we have no clean drinking glasses because they are all waiting to be cleaned in my kitchen sink.  So what I have a pile of clean laundry multiplying by the second. And a pile of dirty laundry, for that matter. That dirty diaper that's been sitting right smack dab in the middle of my living room like some crack den is not a big deal.  It will get thrown away.  Dishes will be done.  Fruit flies that are circling around what I think were once bananas will die.  Life will go on.  Eli will eventually decide that sleep is not the enemy.  And so will Whitney.  I will have a full night of sleep at some point.  Right?  RIGHT?!!

This is a blip -- a very undramatic, unnoticeable by any other full functioning member of the human race blip.

He takes hold of my right hand and says, "'Do not fear; I will help you.'"

**After publishing this post I thought I should add a couple post-scripts to clarify and add some sunshine.

P.S. I was able, thanks to my father, to attend a fabulous wedding of a dear friend today.  I also was able to catch up with some great people and spend some good quality time with my mater. 

P.P.S. Just in case you were thinking of calling CPS on me, the diaper was left by the couch in my haste this morning after changing Whitney quickly before running some errands this morning (like buying a new hairdryer).  And the bananas...well, the bananas are pretty gross.

Eli's First Completed Potty Chart

 WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS ANECDOTAL INFORMATION ABOUT POTTY TRAINING. WALK AWAY IF YOU CAN FEEL YOUR EYES STARTING TO ROLL.

If you've talked with me in the past 6 or 7 months, you've no doubt been tortured by my laments over Eli's lack of potty training.  I've been the parent who, honestly, has waited until Eli appeared interested to use the potty.  Lazy? Maybe.  But the way I looked at it is that I wasn't going to force potty training and then have to spend a year or more fighting with him to use the potty.  And if you've met my son, you know those fights would have been super fun.  They would have probably ended with me dead.  And, like my mama always says, "he ain't gonna start kindergarten wearing a diaper." (her speech is actually more refined than that, but I find hillbilly talk to be more humorous.)

So, we've waited and waited and prayed and waited some more and prodded and suggested and bribed and cried and prayed some more and made a virgin sacrifice to the potty gods and cried some more.  Then my brilliant husband (who should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Potty Training) bought him an Elmo potty video (Eli's very visual).  And then he wanted to do it.  That Elmo is a freaking mind manipulator.   I made a sticker chart that would allow him to essentially pee for a prize every five successful attempts (coming to a carnival near you). And now he just....goes to the potty.  

I should clarify that he goes #1 with ease; the deuce has yet to be dropped.  Which means this potty story is TO BE CONTINUED...

Update

Yeah...that whole blogging twice a week thing...didn't go as planned, soooo.  Below are Whit's 6 and 7 months posts.  Where are Eli's, you ask.  Oh, you didn't...that's cool.  Ummm...so I've been trying to write Eli's 3 year letter since he turned 3, lo these 3 months.  And I can't.  Two was a hard time for us.  A time when I daily felt like a failure as a parent.  And while I lean toward the hyperbolic more often than not, it's true -- daily failure.  My worst moments as a parent occurred during his third year.  I can vividly recall them.  So, I'm working on it; it's a hard one to write.   I will also post his 37 - 39 month letter soon.  Eli is using the potty, folks.  I know, right?  Just you wait to read all about it.  Cause I know you want to read about the bathroom going-ons of my three year old.  Stop shaking your head...it's going to happen. 

Whitney: a 7 month snap shot.

Seven months...look at you following the natural progression of time and stuff.  You get it, get it, girl.  Seven months and you don't look a day over six.  How do you do it?

 Look at them rolls...beautiful.

 I walked in the room once to find your brother swiffering you.

We'll do a bulleted  letter this month...mix it up a little.  Give you some fodder for future therapy sessions. "Mom did bulleted letters with me.  The injustice of it all!"

• Foods you've tried: rice cereal (to which we said adios), oatmeal,  green beans and peas.  
• Foods you will let me feed you without rubbing your eyes (the sign for get me outta this chair, woman!): oatmeal.  You read right.  You hate anything green.  Except for Kermit. 
• On deck: carrots
• You love to eat paper.  
• I think you have pica.
• You had a rash in one of your leg rolls this month. I'm so sorry.  I try to stay on top of making sure your nooks and crannies are clean, but your rolls are-a-plenty.  Don't you go getting a complex -- they are adorable.
• You finally have a high chair.  Lame parenting moment #2,246.  We had a high chair that we used with your brother, but it fell down on the basement floor this last summer and started growing mold colonies from all the dampness in our (at the time) air conditionerless basement, and I was all, mold colonies, you have to start paying rent for how many of you there are, and they were all like, deuces, woman.  So we parted ways, and the good boys of Emmons sanitation took them...it away. So, I was using your bumbo as a temporary high chair, which was not conducive for easy meal times. 
• The vacuum cleaner scares the tuna salad out of you (that's one of your brother's favorite sayings right now--it's from one of his favorite books), which was my cue to stop vacuuming; I aim to please. 
• Bedtime is a little rough still.  We'll get there.
• You have a clear tell for when you're tired and it's ADORABLE.  You scrunch up your eyes and rub your ears.  At first, I thought you had this perpetual ear infection that only bothered you around certain times that seemed to coincide with your nap times, but then I figured it out.  Can't get much past your mom.  She went to college...a college that turns no one away, but she went...so...
• You're about to go on your first real trip.  We're heading out to Boston for your Uncle Adam's wedding.  Two seven hour days in the car with you and your brother...I tear up just thinking about it.  
• Early on when you would get up from naps or for the day, I would say, "Hey, boooo. Did you have a good nap?"  Now, your brother says it.  He gets all up in yo bizness and says "Hey, boooo...did you have a good nap."  Even if you've been up for a couple hours.  Love it.
• Finally, you are loved.  By so many people.  Even weirdos in Target who won't leave you alone until you smile at them.

Those are balloons behind you.  Not an elaborate costume I made you wear.

Happy 7 months, boo!  Love you forever.

Whitney be 6 months, y'all

(pay no attention to the date on this post, which is 2 months PAST your actual 6 month birthday...I'm lame.)


You have graced this planet and our hearts for half a year, Scout. Cue Kool & the Gang.  What's that?  Oh, that weeping you hear is just me lamenting the fact that you're growing up at lightening speed rates.  You'll hear it a lot as your grow up. 

Biggest news this month: you can sit up by you's self.  It's true.  You seem way more comfortable with life now that you can sit up.  Maybe you felt too vulnerable in horizontal mode.  Now, you have a fighting chance against any small rodents or birds; you're at their level now, which is good, because you look like you're storing nuts in your cheeks -- I keep getting the stink eye from some squirrels in our yard.  Also, my life is a lot easier with this latest milestone.  And isn't that what it's really about?  Me?  I can just sit you down outside the bathroom whilst I answer my call from nature rather than hold you whilst I take the call.  Okay, I know that sounded gross, but sometimes when a mommy has two babies, she no longer has the bladder control that she once had as a youth.  So, she has little time to put you in your crib, and she feels too uncomfortable leaving you unattended whilst your big brother is around (he means well, bless his heart, but he sometimes forgets to not step on you).  And I only did it a few times, okay...so, take it down a notch.  

Other perks of sitting on your own: you can use high chairs in restaurants, giving you a bath is easier, taking pics of you is easier,  getting you dressed is a breeze, etc.

Also, this month, we're starting you on solids.  You were doing so well with nursing, and didn't seem to be hungry after you were done nursing, so I held off until you were 6 months to add anything else to your diet.  We started with rice cereal, but then your deuces said deuces, so we switched you to oatmeal, which seems to have eased things, bm wise.  On deck: green beans.  

Finally, we've mastered the two-nap-a-day routine, and it only took us 6 months.  You are actually a pro with the naps now.  You take one an hour after you get up in the morning and then another one around 2:00 p.m. (which is usually about 2  hours after you get up from your morning nap).  It's great, too, because I've discovered that when you don't get your solid two naps in, life, she-is-a-not-fun.  

Here's a condensed version of what else has hit the air waves this last month:

•  you weigh in at 18 lbs, 6 oz
• you are a snuggle bug -- when I'm rocking you before naps, you love to nuzzle your head right under my chin.
• your brother cracks you up.
• you are now smiling for strangers...I guess that rumor that you were a snob affected you.
• you'd rather play with your brother's toys.
• your brother gets upset when you try to play with his toys.
• you're super chill in the church nursery...a-thank-you-Jesus.
• you prefer to roll only from your belly to back...and actually refuse to stay on your tummy anymore.  
• you gnaw on anything you can get into your mouth, so I've moved the batteries and poison out of arm's reach. 
• you made yourself cry with one of your farts when I was changing you once...it was simultaneously awesome and heartbreaking.  

Six months.  I feel like life is starting to get into a routine now.  I'm a little slow on the uptake.  What would take a normal, full-functioning mom 3 months to master, takes yours truly slightly longer.  Sorry.  I feel like I'm getting the hang of mom-with-two-kids thing, though.  So hopefully, you feel a little bit more at ease with me.  No more paging that stork to come back and get you.  

I try to think back on life with one kid, when I thought managing was tough, and now I could probably gold medal in it in the Olympics of parenting (coming this summer).  Which also makes me think I should take up juggling.  And, honestly, adding two has been challenging, but I cannot...CANNOT imagine life without you (I used all caps, which means I'm being sincere...and dramatic).  Your sweet little, lights up your whole face, causes you to scrunch up your shoulders smile is the nectar of the gods.  It makes my soul melt...all over everything. Your coos and screeches, while they do attract dogs from near and far, are my favorites.  There's nothing about you that I don't love and want to freeze in time.  (Come on, flux capacitor, get invented.) You complete us. (Don't roll your eyes;  Jerry Maguire is totally underrated and one of Tom Cruise's finer films.  And I don't like Tom Cruise.)


Happy 6 months!  I love you forever, my precious Scout!

6 months pics taken by the fabulous Jen Decker...let's give her a hand, folks.