s.i.d.w.b.f. #1

i wish there was some uber catchy acronym for the shit i do while breast feeding. being a military wife has me completely conditioned to the need for needless acronyms. i cant help it, as much as i want to laugh at the absolute absurdity of some of the acronyms i hear on a daily basis, i have a touch of acronym envy, otherwise known as a.e. at the fact i cant come up with a clever one for the shit i do while breast feeding. one of my fave nonsensical military acronyms is tdy. it means temporary duty. im not sure why they add the 'y', but ive always thought of it as meaning 'yobyyoself' awhile. either way, i do loads of shit while nursing ace and while i would love to say 'shit' less, it is altogether fitting for this first installment of the s.i.d.w.b.f.

i was chatting with another newcomer to the 'club of three' the other day and we established we are in the midst of challenging moments more so than challenging days. the craziness comes in waves with massive undercurrents that leave me feeling like im gasping for air and being drug through razor sharp sand all the while hearing a constant litany of requests/demands by small people with big voices who incidentally have very little understanding of patience. in their defense, some of their needs are urgent and making them wait, even while im meeting the urgent needs of another, could have dire consequences for me. and really, i dont need anymore of those in my day.

the other day, after dropping gk off at her work release program (aka kindergarten), jw and i were serenaded all the way home by one screaming, hungry baby ace. i really think he is the loudest of all three of our people which is rather impressive if youve ever heard jack, the 3 year old with the voice of a 4o year old trucker, chatting up a room. lets just say his voice carries. anyway, we flew into the garage and ran out of the car like it was on fire in a rush to get inside and stop the screaming baby. as soon as we were inside, i started feeding ace and enjoying the quiet. 42 seconds later j informed me he needed to poop. great. i couldnt quit feeding ace this early into his breakfast or he and i would have both had a morning milk bath (tmi??) so i just walked with the baby and used my one free arm to hoist 38 lbs of j onto the potty all the while wondering where in the house he and his sister had left the stool that would have made this little joyful job unnecessary.

with j where he needed to be, i went back to the couch to continue feeding the baby who was somehow unfazed and oblivious to the constant movement. i swear it wasnt even 30 seconds later when j yelled he needed his bottom wiped. really. this is a task he usually handles on his own, but this morning, because the stars had all lined up just perfectly, there was apparently loads of shit everywhere and he really really really needed me. where is the awesome button? the one i get to press every time something awesome happens and at the end of the day it tallies the awesomeness and pours my glass of wine accordingly?

so, once again i trekked into the bathroom which now smelled comparable to a carnival porta potty (his voice isnt the only resemblance he has to a 40 year old trucker) and began the joyful job of wiping his rear while STILL breast feeding the baby. this is where i will spare you the majority of details except to let you know j wasnt exaggerating. he really did need me and i felt like i deserved a standing ovation, medal and shower when i emerged from the bathroom.

i didnt get any of those things, but i did get a cup of coffee and the satisfaction of knowing im capable of doing more than i originally thought to balance this blessed life with three. and at the end of the day, regardless of the 'awesome' moments tally, i would seriously not t.t.l.f.a. or trade this life for anything.

dead bolts

okay, so while i really thought id be blogging more, i now realize this goal can go ahead and join the ranks of wanting to run more and eat less cheese. clearly, i am incapable of making the time to get this done. the truth is, for the most part, my time is not my own. and before you assume im singing the 'whoa es me' mantra of a stay at home mama, let me assure you, i am living my dream and would not wish to have any other precious time thieves than the two little ones i have. and with the lumpy one in preschool two days a week this year, i have revisited the art of long lunches with friends with uninterrupted conversation free of baby wipe napkins and the responsibility of cutting up someones meal. it has been altogether fabulous. however, there are still a number of things i like to do while at home that dont include wiping noses and playing cars, dolls, trains, kitchen, doll house, etc...(this list could go on for pages...thank you, God, for imaginative children....most days).

there are really only two things i totally took for granted before having children...ie, i didnt see these entering the realm of extinction in my life as clearly as i anticipated less sleep and baby weight. they are:: phone time and shower time. who knew? apparently, along with sleep and an ideal weight, my ability to maintain a distraction free conversation on the phone as well as my ability to shower without the constant litany of questions from the other side of the door have vanished. gone. it never fails, the little people are happily playing together, practically reciting scripture in the corner until the phone rings at which time they come unglued. they instantly have 146 ailments, injuries, needs, complaints, questions, arguments, disasters and messes and complete chaos ensues within minutes. my own mom listened to my disbelief at this phenomenon, sympathetically enthralled in my predicament and offered this when i finished, 'at least you can walk away. when you were little, i was tied to the phone by one of those cords, unable to escape the kitchen.' it was at this time i realized how obvious the solution was, i am the adult. i own a cordless phone. i have a bedroom. with a lock on the door.

my plan was hatched. the next phone call i wanted to or needed to take, i was taking, undeterred by the mass chaos that ensued around me. after all, i would just retreat to my bedroom, lock the door and let my responsible 2 and 4 year old work it out, lord of the flies style. maybe santa will bring them a conch for such times as these...either way, im out. when the phone rang and it was a friend i had wanted to chat with, i tiptoed upstairs and locked my door. i experienced almost three minutes of conversation before those people picked up my trail and ended up at my door. i calmly explained id be out in a few minutes and would be happy to hook them up with whatever they needed at that time. i continued to talk while the sound of two whiny voices and 4 little hands pounded on and knocked on the door. it was a mild distraction and i was committed to my plan of just a few minutes on the phone. a moment later, it was silent and i smiled, savoring my small victory, realizing i had taught them a valuable lesson of not interrupting and learning how to entertain themselves for a few minutes. the silence lasted less than a minute and i heard a slight scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. how clever, theyve decided to play kitty or doggie and are pretending to try and get in.

i hadnt even completed the thought when the door opened and standing there with a plastic sword is bonnie and clyde. after immediately hanging up and accepting defeat, this conversation ensued::

me:: um, georgia, what are you doing?

georgia:: i picked the lock with jacks sword.

me:: you did?? how in the world did you do that?

georgia:: i just put it in the knob and turned it the other way to the unlock. it wasnt even tricky. i did it last week when i accidentally locked jack in his room. i can show you how if you want.

me:: no thanks, geogia, i think i can figure it out on my own.

im not sure what to do with this one other than realize that children have been crashing phone conversations since the beginning of phone time and i am no better, smarter or more creative than any other mom with kids before me. im considering a deadbolt, but feel that if i raise the challenge ill simply find myself with a 4 year old who will inevitably take the opportunity to hone her power drill skills. good times.

two words

its amazing how little blog time my double fly little guy, jdub, really gets. its not his fault, its mine. im busy and short on time and im depositing a few extra bucks into his therapy fund just in case (who am i kidding) he needs it later to help him process the second child syndrome. recently, i took him to his first well baby appointment. i know hes two, 30 lbs and a lumpy little man child now, but one of the most illogical ideas ever invented was the well baby visit. where you bring a WELL (not sick) child to a place where SICK children are. cr hay zeeee. ive been told by my sis in law there is apparently an office in a far off land called dallas, that keeps the two areas separate for the protection of the well people...i imagine it smells like cupcakes and serves coffee, but here, in a land called northern virginia, you wait like sneezing, coughing cattle and it smells like bad hand sanitizer. and since i dont immunize my little people until they are about two (yes, im that super weird person you judge) i dont have any reason to take them when they are well. however, as many of you with little people can imagine, im at the drs office fairly regularly for a litany of other little people illnesses like ear infections, sinus infections and strange coughs from unknown origins. so, before i start receiving hate mail about not getting my kids seen, they are seen. regularly. when they are fresh out of being well.

of course this shifts around age two when i do start taking them in for a yearly physical and occasional shot. last week began that stage for jack. he is now officially two and has perfected his own original versions of several songs although his favorite is still 'happy birthday' which he sings at the top of his lungs to his own enthusiastic applause and then asks for cake. everyday. love that kid. so last week i had both kids with me at the drs office where i packed enough crap for them to eat, break and play with in hopes of keeping them from touching all the surfaces that countless sick kids have licked and touched throughout the day. somehow, in the midst of my 60 lbs of gear, i forgot to pack diapers and while jdub has now told several people a very convincing tale that he is in fact potty training, he is in fact just lying...and pooping on himself.

so, nurse so and so asks me to strip him down to get a good weight check on him and goes as far as trying to extract the two raisins in his fist for a more accurate reading. seriously? i dare you to try and pry those nasty dried morsels of goodness from his fists. you like failure? keep trying. after a few attempts, she gave up and i put his diaper back on him while the nurse put us in our place. the waiting place. where you wait and wait and wait and wonder why you ever thought you needed this particular appointment in the first place. the doctor eventually came in and followed the script of questions about jdubs development. it went like this::

is he walking? yes, around the room right now actually.

can he jump on one foot? um, we dont typically do that at home, but given the right incentive or lack of leg, im sure he could.

does he build blocks? yes. and then he knocks them over and claps...are these real questions?

does he point? no.

how does he show you what he wants? he asks for it.

about this time, gk interrupts the interview with, 'mom, jack stinks really bad.' the dr, not deterred by the interruption continues, does he talk? yes.

does he put two words together? yes. its at this moment that jdub stops playing with cars and says with clarity and conviction, 'huge poop'.

'huge poop, mama, huge poop'. ahhhhhsome, since im fresh out of diapers. and so ended our interview. done and done. the dr left the room, i pillaged the cabinets id spent the waiting time telling the kids to not touch and swiped a newborn diaper off the top shelf for my 30 lb baby. perfect. so the lump walks and talks and poops just like every other well baby and hes not afraid to describe it in detail. good to know.

want vs need

what i want to blog about today is my recent swimsuit shopping endeavor aptly named 'mission somewhat impossible' or 'holy crap, these two kids have done a number on me' or 'whose arse is that really in the mirror', but instead, what i need to blog about today is the recent wave of stories ive read of families losing those they love, a child, a father, a wife. families who are drowning in grief one excruciatingly long moment at a time. and i dont want take you down these gut wrenching roads with me as i relive their journey with them in size 12 font nor do i want to ruin your day with their sadness. rather, i want to give you the cliff notes version of what im taking away from them. if all i do is read and weep and lift gut wrenching prayers on behalf of their suffering, but fail to change something within myself, i have missed it. i have missed the opportunity of their lifetime to change the course of mine. and after reading and weeping, their lives are more than worthy of altering my own. their lives and love are heavy enough to permeate my days if ill let them and today as i sit here and am left with the opportunity to reflect, i want nothing more than to be saturated by their legacies.

i will cherish the interruptions to my plans. this will not mean celebrating a blizzard that delays my husbands return home (although how blessed i am to have a husband coming home). rather, it means giving my 'plans' their due priority. laundry can wait while i read books under a blanket with one very cuddly baby boy. dinner can wait while i attend yet another afternoon tea party with 4 babies, two puppies and one very proud 4 year old peach. we will blow off errands to play at the park, get out the play dough, puzzles and paint and blow bubbles until we're sick of it. what im learning daily is that the joy justifies the mess every time. and while i love a clean house and enjoy nice things, at the end of the day we are not living in a museum (and seriously, mt vernon is nice, but i would never want that old stuffy house anyway) and our home is so much more about the feelings within it than the crap filling up the spaces.

i rocked my son to sleep today just because i could. he would have happily laid down and fallen asleep, just like he will do the majority of his life, but today, while looking at him i swear i saw changes in him from a week ago. he is growing and changing and running faster than i would like to admit. so, now, while i can catch him, im going to hold him. we prayed for these families as we rocked back and forth and when i laid him down in his crib i saw the verse painted on the wall above ::

for He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go.

psalm 91:11

i have always imagined the wherever being more than his physical location (although those of you that know our sweet and fearless boy can most certainly attest to angels holding his hands and protecting him from a 3 story fall most recently). more than his physical location and condition, i prayed when placing this above jacks crib that His angels would be protecting him in his spirit, in his heart and in his mind. i imagined them sitting with him in times of grief and loneliness, in longing and pain. i imagined them celebrating with him in moments of joy and elation, in love and success. and i am comforted by a God who is there, filling up and filling in the spaces of our grief and corners of our doubt. in our justified anger and outrage. in our all consuming fear and sadness. He is there. even when we are so removed from Him, we cannot feel Him. even when we deny His presence. He is still there. my prayer for these families as they crawl through every stage of their grief and suffering is they would feel Him, too. that His angels would protect them wherever they go. that His arms would offer a haven of comfort and sanctuary of peace. and most of all, that i can honor their loved ones with how i choose to spend the minutes of my days. it is the one tribute worthy of their legacy that will forever be a part of mine.

**it happens

normally i avoid poop stories. mostly because there is still a part of me left from my childhood that would like to pretend no one poops. im sure it stems in part from growing up in a house with 3 girly girls living in it and no place for bathroom humor. i didnt know poop could be funny until i met pat and then of course his sister who is a total girl and can still find bathroom humor somewhat entertaining. and while i continue to avoid most conversations that center around poop, lately its becoming unavoidable.

i find it truly amazing what motherhood will do with an aversion to poop. she comes in with this bundle of joy and then all but immerses you in a sea of sh**. it starts with seemingly harmless poop that barely exists and is mostly scent free. and then of course before you know it, you are changing the diapers of a manchild who eats everything you eat and the nasty grows. then theres potty training (which for me was pretty uneventful the first time around which all but guarantees a multitude of poop issues the second time around) and then the announcements from the backseat of, 'i have to poop. a little, but please hurry' or while at the playground you suddenly find yourself leaving one child in the care of total strangers to take the other child into the woods to poop by the old oak tree.

and if not for the 24 hour span i recently experienced, i might be able to let this post pass, but as one who has just had the poopscapades ive had, i just have to share. you can thank me later.

on wednesday while hosting some of the coolest people in the world for their visit to d.c., we were all doing our part in helping me get the peach to preschool. we'd had a lazy morning of coffee drinking and talking and before i knew it i had exactly 7 minutes to get georgia to school. which was awesome because we were all still in our jammies. i began flying around upstairs disguising my lack of hygiene with a hat and spackling on some under eye concealer to trick people into thinking id had a lot more sleep than the few hours i really had. gk was in her room independently getting herself ready when i heard a blood curdling scream from her bathroom. i went running, as any semi responsible mama would and found her pants down, crap smeared self standing next the toilet. i said, 'sweetie, WHAT is the matter???' to which she answered, 'my brother did THIS!' and pointed into the potty. i hadnt even noticed jdub standing there until that moment. but just as she said, there he was, with a fistful of her necklaces looking into the poop filled potty. apparently, hed bum rushed the toilet, knocked her off and thrown something of value into the now crowded toilet. when i looked down, i could see what was freaking her out. the FREE plastic necklace shed picked out at the doctors office eons ago was now at the bottom of the toilet. everything in me wanted to 'accidentally' flush and move on, but i knew if it got stopped up, id have to admit to patrick (who is no plumber) that i had in fact, lazily chosen to take my chances and flush the necklace/poop combo. crap. so, i did what any sleep deprived, rushed mother of two who has become so desensitized to things that just a few short years ago would have had me gagging or hiring help to take care of. i reached in and grabbed that piece of crap necklace, flushed the poop, cleaned the toilet and the peach and began sanitizing all surfaces. and we were only 4 minutes late for school.

this should be the end of the story or at least the end of the poop story, but shock of all shocks, it isnt. i had around 24 hours to recover from the trauma of 'operation crappy jewelry' before experiencing poopscapade numero dos.

gk has had a cough for weeks. long enough for me to dismiss the 'its just a cold' theory and long enough for me to take her to the doctor for real meds. unfortunately, real meds have real side effects. some of you mamas are already tracking. that little miracle antibiotic, augmentin, is good for two things: curing what ever ails you and causing insane amounts of poop.

day 1 on the augmentin:: 'mooooooom, i need you, i had an accident.' i was sluggish to respond. mostly because she hasnt had an accident in many many months and even more so because i was chatting with my mom on the phone. i casually walked over to the bathroom and said something along the lines of 'mom, i gotta go, theres poop EVERYWHERE'. click.

and there was. the toilet, the floor, the door, the door knob, the rug, the peach. everywhere. seriously? apparently the antibiotic was doing wonders for her cough and her intestines. nice. so, we cleaned, cloroxed and sanitized all appropriate floors, knobs and surfaces. this was a scene that would repeat itself on a much smaller scale no less than 3 more times that day. three. (arent you thrilled im not sharing those details?) during the clean up of the first disaster, jdub managed to climb on top of the dining room table and fall off. fortunately his fall was broken by one of the chairs (weak silver lining, i know). at some point (although i barely remember it) i called patrick at work and gave him a run down of my morning on his voice mail. i must have sounded pathetic enough to land some serious sympathy points because he arrived home that night with the prettiest box of chocolates ive ever seen.

im hoping this is the last chapter in my long list of poopscapades, but with two little people in the house that continue to eat, i highly doubt this is the end of it. good times. please feel free to share any of your poopscapades, now that i get bathroom humor and know whats funny, id love to hear them. cheers to motherhood and her very dry sense of humor.

boys

so i know raising a son will be much different and dirtier than raising a daughter (ive been peed on enough times to have at least a basic understanding of the 'messier than chicks' factor by now) . ive seen it with all of my friends with boys and truth be told i really cant wait for the dirt, bugs and countless injuries that seem to inevitably accompany the role of 'boy'. but what im far more concerned about is raising a man. i am consumed with thoughts of 'what kind of man will my sweet boy become?' thats it for me. the challenge of raising a son is that one day he will be a man raising his own family and while i dont want to get too far ahead of myself (too late i hear you saying...) i am trying to see the big picture here. or at least the most important part of a small one. i didnt marry a sissy. i didnt pick a big baby to father my kids and lead our family and i dont expect anyone else to want to either. so here it is in size 12 font...i want to raise a boy who will one day be a man of courage and integrity, compassion and conviction, with a strong sense of gratitude and generosity. who unabashadly chases hard after his goals and is not intimidated by failure. i dont have any idea how to instill these attributes in him other than to take comfort and hope in knowing he will see all of these in his father. i feel like ive already done the best that i can do for jack simply by picking the right man for him to emulate.

i heard a friend the other night pull his two year old son aside for a teaching moment after he had hit georgia. amid the nuggets of wisdom he passed on was a simple order to 'never ever hit a girl'. the boys mama (a dear friend of mine) rolled her eyes and said to me he should never hit anyone. and while i love that she is steadfast in teaching him some basic manners for functioning in life, i love the fact that his dad is already laying the foundation for one of the many man laws that govern a boys life. you never hit a girl. and while bullying is off limits and picking a fight is wrong, there are certain times when standing up for or protecting what is sacred to you may be worth a fight. and perhaps this truth in all its complexity may be best understood later in life (after the tender and impressionable age of 2), but i commend him for speaking his truth to his sweet boy now. we are all only teaching and learning one moment at a time anyway and im confident the opportunity will arise to impart additional details of the 'no hit' rule in the future.

its just one of the many things that is different in parenting a son. we are created differently on purpose by a Creator who had a pretty perfect plan and while it may be a source of debates on equality and fairness and a source of contention with all the feminazis of the world, we should not be trying to raise a generation of boys to be the same as a generation of girls. there are certain truths and differences that are undeniable and shouldnt be hampered or discouraged under the guise of equality but rather nurtured and encouraged as Divine inspired unique qualities to be celebrated and strengthened. i want jack to be able to throw a football and change a tire. he doesnt have to love football (or fulfill a dream of being a left handed pitcher...his dream i swear) nor should he feel pressure to have a love of cars, but at some point those two skills will be useful. i want him to instinctively open a door for a woman or a stranger out of a desire to be polite and kind. he does not need to sing coom by ya at the nursing home on sundays to be a good man and i could care less if he wants to be a boy scout, but basic kindness and a willingness to serve others is a sign of compassion and a cornerstone of a strong character.

a few other important skills...movie lines and sound effects. he needs to have a basic database for both. (again, thank God we have patrick around...) i dont care if he loves that stupid movie blazing saddles, but almost every other boy/man in the world has an inexplicable knowledge and affection for it...i dont get it, but hopefully this can be one of the many things that just he and his dad understand about one another. and star wars. please dont get me started. lets just say he will be exposed in some grand fashion at an age too young for my liking but i will simply shut up and color and watch the bonding occur...and then be on call for a week to soothe the nightmares that follow. sound effects are critical (and im not being over dramatic here either) to the development of a boys mind...i refuse to buy any toys that make all the noises for him...im telling you they are robbing him of a God given skill that he may never tap into if playschool and mattel have their way with him. have you met a guy in his twenties, thirties or forties who cant make the sound of an explosion or car?? tragic im telling you. borderline pathetic, really.

alas, i dont have all the answers (or even a few if im being honest) about how to go about raising a man when i only have him for a few brief years as a boy, but my hope is that the One who so generously gave him to me will partner with patrick and i as we try. and inevitably fail at this awesome and exciting opportunity that we have been given to hopefully raise up the kind of man that will one day be used by Him to do many things great and small for His purpose. and if he can quote happy gilmore or tommy boy word for word and throw a fast pitch, all the better.

jdubs dedication

We had the privilege of dedicating Jack recently. Many have asked what that means. Without going into a lengthy discussion or explanation, the short version is we have publicly sought the support, encouragement, accountability and prayers of those present and loved ones far away in raising him to know, love, serve and wholeheartedly pursue after our amazing Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We have the tremendous blessing of having our own families seeking the same pursuits. We have amazing parents who love, guide and pray for us continually. We have siblings who model Christ's love to us and to their children. We are forever grateful for the families that God chose to place us in and know that His provisions have been abundant. It is the love of our families and the love of Christ we have always seen in them that led us to where we are today, dedicating our own beloved son to the One who generously gave him to us. We are always mindful that He has entrusted His precious child, Jack, to us to love, nurture and most importantly guide to Him. We will one day be held accountable for what we do and do not do as his parents and our greatest hope and prayer is that our Father who gave him to us is pleased with us as we seek His will daily. We know the time will come when Jack will be responsible for his own choices as he travels his journey of faith and our hope is that he will seek to know God and His infinite love for him. We were blessed to share the day with close friends, Angie & Dave Faggard, Jim & Tricia Friddell and Amy & Brian Moore. His outfit was made with love by his Grandma Sutherland and will be a treasured reminder of this special day.

nastay...a tad worse than nasty

just the other day patrick asked if jack needed a diaper change and without hesitation i promptly buried my nose in the diapered rear of our youngest. and it hit me...i am a different person than i was just a short 3 years ago. i am doing things i would have never believed i was capable of...like smelling butts and leaping out of a dead sleep to answer the call of an inquisitive child at 3 am. the list of what im doing on a daily basis no longer surprises me which is somewhat remarkable if you could only see my days. i wiped snot from georgia on my jeans today. its not that i didnt want to retrieve a respectable tissue, its just that my options were somewhat limited with jack and georgia coordinating their 'need to eat' and their 'need to sneeze' to be the exact same time. and, yes, its disgusting. i would gag if i saw you do it and pretend that i hadnt done the same and yet, i regularly find myself doing the most disgusting of things. today, while changing a diaper, the fountain started and i threw a burp cloth on his little man. i found the same burp cloth, unlaundered, laying on the floor hours later. gross. i also realized gk had used it as a towel for one of her babies moments earlier. double gross. ive inspected finger tips for boogies and butt cheeks for hidden poop. im telling you, im not proud. im appalled, really, at all that i do without flinching, but this is my new reality. and i love my new reality.

we made heart cakes tonight for patrick. we dropped egg shells in the batter, licked the spoon while stirring and sampled the batter...with raw eggs and all. we watched them rise and fall in the oven, added yellow food coloring to the icing on accident and then corrected our mistake with 17 drops of red which left an orangey reddish hue on the cake and did god only knows what to our bodies. it was at around drop 15 i remembered there being some article years ago about the harmful effects of red dye...im assuming it pertained to big m&m factories, not food coloring plants, but either way, i dropped two more in there in my final attempt at 'pink' cakes. and while they werent exactly pink, they were smothered and covered and piled unhealthily high with mounds of orangey red frosting and delivered to patrick with the honest question from the heart of a 3 year old...will you be my valentine? he melted. but only for a moment because this question was immediately followed up with, 'can i have a bite?' and so it goes. my days that start with an audible alarm and end with prayers at the bedsides of the little people.

tomorrow will be another day filled to the brim with moments that melt my heart or make me gag. either way, im blessed and content. and living a completely different life than a short 3 years ago. thank goodness for the whole of it...the good, the bad and the utterly nastay.

the friendly skies

recently we took the kids and flew to texas for Christmas and then onto missouri for new years. due to patricks schedule and his need to be back sooner than we needed to be, i decided to stay an extra week on the farm...still cant seem to ever get enough time with the rents. i vaguely remember the conversation that took place the night we booked our tix for the trip...i was pregnant (which for those of you who know me leaves me incapable of making sound decisions) and realistic husband even questioned (albeit briefly) if i thought traveling by myself with the kids would be too difficult. of course not...georgia did manage to handle a 30 hour itinerary from korea and jack will naturally be sound asleep in the baby bjorn safely secured to me. i never gave it a second thought. mostly because ive been living somewhere between underslept and over caffeinated and partly because my way of handling any and all potentially unpleasant future situations is to spend my present in a state of denial.

needless to say traveling to texas and then onto missouri with better half was uneventful...man to man coverage is always a safe bet. however, the trip home solo had a few moments worth mentioning. and by few, i mean many. too many to actually recount, but ill highlight the faves.

during our brief layover in newark, i had the opportunity to exercise while traveling..running through the airport with jack strapped in somewhat safely with his head bobbling around, pushing georgia in the stroller and lugging 50 lb diaper bag on one shoulder with childs suitcase on the other gave me the chance to burn those mini pretzels from flight one right off. when i began to literally feel the burn in my arms, i expertly transferred both bags to the handles of the stroller. with my load considerably lighter i bravely ventured into the public restroom to let the peach use the potty. this was my lame attempt at avoiding the plane bathrooms that bring out the claustrophobic in me in 2 seconds flat. not to mention the maneuvering that must take place in there with a toddler. ive said it before but i expect applause and a medal every time i step out of one of those germ infested porta potties in the sky having successfully sanitized an area and changed a diaper or assisted a toddler in the one square foot allotted. anyway, i waited patiently for the large stall at the end to open with the peach asking a relentless series of questions ranging from 'are you going to go tinkle, mommy?' to 'i think that lady went poop. do you think she went poop, mommy?'

once inside the stall, georgia promptly hopped out of the stroller. heavy bags on stroller handles promptly caused it to flip over onto the sticky floor. all 736 items in diaper bag are now covering every inch of the stall floor. in my haste to lean over and begin picking up said items, jack about falls out the top of the bjorn. he is completely upside down while i hold him in with one hand and take inventory of all items in need of sanitation with the other. i cant help but try and ignore the floor that georgias fingers are all over and keep reminding myself we will wash extra well after potty time. jack is now awake (as anyone dangling upside down would be) and hungry. fabulous. i get gk on the potty and she reminds me that we are 'not to touch anything'. i find this particularly funny as everything now in the diaper bag and every part of both of her hands have now been all over the floor of a very high traffic public restroom.

i made the decision to not attempt to pee with jack in the baby bjorn...ive never been good at peeing in the woods and with my luck and how the day was unfolding i was fairly confident i would end up either peeing on myself or on jack. i figured it would be nice if just one in our party of three could be spared the joy of public restroom germs and i couldnt bear the thought of hours of questions from my interrogator on what happened to mommy and jack if my attempt failed. we rolled out of the stall looking weathered at best. between my sweat and flustered self and the black cashmere sweater now giving my drooling 4 month old the appearance of a goatee, i just wanted to wash hands and get on the next flight. except that now in front of the sink, i cannot get to georgia fast enough and she hops out AGAIN. stroller flips AGAIN and i am left wondering what patron saint of parenting i have pissed off.

twenty something cutie patootie who has the nerve to wear horizontal stripes, leggings, boots and a handbag trots over to begin helping me pick the items up. gk is a little unnerved, jack is screaming now and i am wondering if i will ever feel cold again. i dont exactly remember what i said at that moment, truth be told it probably rhymed with fit (which i felt like having) or quit (which i felt like doing), but what i apparently failed to say was thank you. i only know this because as stripe girl walked away she said 'your welcome'. ahh yes. jersey. the friendliest place on earth. i wanted to say, 'hey, wait can i get your address? or maybe your autograph? i was hoping to send you a thank you note and flowers to thank you for really going above and beyond here.' the truth is, i was grateful. and appreciative, but seriously, was it not obvious that the balancing act i was trying to pull off while not dumping infant out head first and hanging onto now fit throwing 2 year old with other hand not evidence enough that i was in no position to fall over myself with gratitude? i think i even muttered thank you in the midst of the ordeal but her bangles were probably clicking too loud for her to hear me. anyway, bathroom scene over. onto boarding.

i couldnt help but notice the insanely long line waiting to board my flight and i even felt a moment of relief (the screaming baby with a goatee and whining two year old were just like white noise at this point) realizing i fell into the 'in need of help, please pre board' category. until i heard airline guy make the announcement that it was now open to everyone. clearly, while playing in the restroom, i had missed my chance at the only perk of flying with children. ugh. fortunately, there was a nice guy who let me go ahead of him which was great because i just needed to get to my seat so i could feed jack.

we found our seats, i found my hooter hider and gk found the air controllers above the seat. now i just needed to feed the baby and show all the passengers that their flight really wouldnt be as hellacious as they thought because the baby will stop crying and the peach will sit down and be quiet...while she polishes off a pound of skittles. this detail will mean nothing to any of you men reading, but to you women...i had skipped nursing jack at his last feeding and opted for a bottle which left me...full. so with hooter hider in place and black sweater up i began trying to discreetly feed the boy while a constant stream of passengers filed by and georgia experimented with varying degrees of cold air...which helped me transition nicely from sweaty to clammy. perfect. right as i was about to begin feeding jdub, marcos, the happy flight attendant with a nice manicure shows up next to me. i am caught off guard and jack pays the price with a steady stream of milk shooting into his eye. at the same time gk now has all air pointing at me going full blast and marcos wants to chat about an infant life vest. seriously?? marcos, i know you dont lactate and im fairly confident you dont have small children, but surely it is clear to you from your vantage point above me that i am blinding my infant, exposing myself and in the event of a water landing would just as soon take my chances. he continues on, 'if you cannot find your infant life vest in the event of a water landing (arent those more accurately called crashes anyway) see me and i will get you one.' really, marcos, when this plane goes down and all 150 passengers are panicked, youd like me to bring my two children up and down the aisle until we find you to request an infant life vest? wow.

of course i didnt say anything. i just nodded my head and continued to shower jack. however, i did manage to remember my manners this time and thank him profusely before he walked away. within moments, jack was fed and happy and georgia was happily eating skittles. i even managed to wipe the goatee off of jacks face before landing. clearly a successful day of travel.

because im the lamest

im finally posting a pic of jack...hes 4 months old today and this is only his second appearance on the blog. im a terrible mother and proving that whole second baby theory. hes awesome and his sister still rocks. hes huge weighing over 16 lbs at his last appt...i keep telling gk to watch her fingers when he starts rolling over and to start protecting her plate of food...hes putting down rice cereal like a champ and has only requested a side of a-1 steak sauce once.