This is My Life

This is my life.

We have to mail a package. 

We're five days late getting it out because of a combination of bad weather, Richard's Homecoming, and Thanksgiving.

I absolutely have to mail it today, my tardiness is just getting ridiculous at this point.

I hustle the boys into the car with promises of lunch at McDonald's, where they can eat all the Chicken McNuggets and french fries that they want. 

15 minutes later we arrive at the post office. Which, for some very awkward reason, is as quiet as a library.  

Great, the perfect setting for two loud toddlers.

And, of course, everyone and their goat decided to go to the post office today too. 

And, of course, each one of the zillion people in line has a VERY IMPORTANT ISSUE they need handled RIGHT NOW, that will take no less than five minutes to sort out.

Multiply five minutes by a zillion people and that equals one very bad headache and two super impatient toddlers.

Ryan is screaming and trying to wiggle himself out of the stroller.

Jacob is yelling "Chicken please! Chicken please!", frustrated that we aren't at McDonald's, and now the other people in line behind us are looking at me like they think I starve my children, and force the poor babies to beg for food.

In an attempt to buy myself a few minutes I dig out some stale Gerber Puffs that have been in the bottom of the stroller for who knows how long, and hand Jacob my car key ring, which has a small flashlight on it that I think he will like playing with.

Instead, he goes straight for the button that sets off my CAR ALARM. 

Finally - somehow - we mailed the package and piled back in the car.

Once we are in the McDonald's play area, Jacob keeps trying to push open the emergency exit door, which conveniently has an alarm on it as well.

Seriously, who's genius idea was it to put an emergency alarm door in the children's play area of McDonald's?!

Ryan is running from table to table trying to steal other patrons' french fries and juice boxes. 

This is my life.

Setting off alarms.

Disturbing the peace.

It's the most adorable chaos you can imagine.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Burn Victim

I wrote in this post earlier in the summer about Jacob's favorite stuffed animal, Lion. They are inseparable. If anything, Jacob has become more attached to Lion since I wrote that post. He now likes to take Lion on walks with us in the stroller, as well as on car rides whenever we go somewhere. Lion is his constant companion. He sleeps with Lion every night, and plays with Lion every day. One of his favorite games to play is "Go Lion", where he throws Lion as high in the air as he can while yelling "go Lion!" and then he has to find where Lion landed.

He was playing just this game on Saturday morning when Lion landed in the lamp in the boys' bedroom. Lion landed directly on top of the hot lightbulb. It took me a few minutes to notice, and by the time I did, Lion was stuck to it. I had to rip him off of the hot bulb, only to find that Lion's "fur" had melted and in its place were three holes, exposing his stuffing.

I was devastated. I know that Lion is irreplaceable - literally - he isn't sold anymore. So I had prepared myself on how to deal with a situation where Lion might get dirty, or torn, or even thrown in the toilet. But I had not prepared myself for the event where Lion would become a burn victim.

I enlisted the help of my mom, and she  performed emergency "surgery" on Lion's damaged backside. The whole time Jacob kept coming over to me, tugging on my arm and saying, "Lion? Lion?" I knew he was wondering where his little blue friend was, and it broke my heart.

Once my mom finished the stitching, the big moment came when they were reunited. I was so worried Jacob wouldn't accept Lion with his new "band aid", but he barely even noticed; he was just happy to have his Lion back. 

Lion is holding up well, and things seem to be back to normal for the time being. Thank goodness for needle and thread! 

Oh, and thank goodness the house didn't burn down.

Flashback Friday - Recent Halloweens

I've always been a fan of Halloween. 

Sure, the candy is delicious, but my favorite part is getting to dress up every year. I was usually something predictable, like a pumpkin or a witch or a cat, although one year I was a Christmas Tree, and that was pretty rad. 

It was just so much fun trying to find the perfect costume, and then getting all the accessories for it, like face make up, creepy stick-on fingernails, vampire teeth, wigs, etc.

I was pretty bummed when my mom put the kibosh on trick-or-treating when I was 13. She told me I was too old and that people would be scared to have a teenager come to their door, and they'd all probably assume I was about to egg their house or something. So, from 13 to 18, Halloween really wasn't anything special. 

Once I went to college it got fun again, there was always an annual dance, haunted house and some sort of Halloween party going on. AND we got to wear costumes again. We were basically a bunch of over-sized kids getting to live out our Halloween fantasies one last time. 

Not to mention, since we could drive and had our own money, we didn't have to wait to go trick-or-treating, we could just go to the grocery store and buy as much Halloween candy as we wanted until we passed out from a sugar coma.

Once I had kids, and I had to be more budget-conscious, I realized that I should pretty much just spend our money on costumes for the boys, despite the fact that I really wanted to get in on the fun of dressing up with them.

When I was single and didn't have to spend my money on diapers and milk and chicken McNuggets, I wouldn't have given a second thought to paying $60 or more for a Halloween costume. Things are different though now, and considering that the boys will wear their costumes for probably two hours tops, it just isn't fiscally responsible of me to spend that kind of money on any of us.

Fiscally? Did I really just write that? I think I've seen one too many political ads lately.

Anyhow, so for Jacob's first Halloween I just dressed him up as a pumpkin. Richard was on deployment, and I was pregnant, so I wouldn't have fit into a costume anyway. 

But last year? Last year was truly inspired.

 I actually got the idea for it in February 2009, and then ordered the costumes in August. I was so excited.

Sure, it took a little bribing (and maybe a little whiskey), in order to get my husband to play along, but I absolutely adore this photo of us.

So now I am struggling to decide what I will be this year. The boys' costumes have already been decided, and I would like to get in on the fun, but at very little cost.

Here is what I am thinking:

I could be Snooki, because she is culturally relevant right now, and I definitely have enough hair to copy her 'do, and then I just need to throw on like a pound of bronzer.

*Photo courtesy of Google Images.

Or!

I am also considering going as Bella Swan from the Twilight series. I already have the brown hair and eyes, and I live in Washington. So really, all I would need to complete the costume is a "Team Edward" shirt, and then walk around  all pouty and angsty like emo Kristen Stuart.

*Photo courtesy of Google Images.

 What do you guys think? Which one would you vote for? 

Or do you have a totally different suggestion for me?


UPDATED:

Jonesin' for more of my thoughts? Check out my post over at http://thesmartly.com/ today!

Camping

When I was a kid, few things were more exciting than getting to go camping.

I think I fell in love with camping because my brother was a boy scout, and he got to go camping all the time. In fact, when I was younger I used to want to be a boy scout. I even wished we lived in Canada, because someone once told me that in Canada, girls are allowed to join the boy scouts. 

And I didn't want to be a girl scout, because everyone knows they're super lame. While the boy scouts got to do awesome stuff like camping with mountain lions, archery and rafting, all we got to do as girl scouts was make shirts using puffy paints, and visit nursing homes.  

So, clearly, who wouldn't want to be a Boy Scout?

The only thing good about Girl Scouts are their cookies, but those aren't even available year-round.

So since I wasn't a boy, and therefore, wasn't allowed to go camping with my brother's scout troop, it was always a treat for me when we'd get to camp out at our house. This usually involved my brother, my dad and myself sleeping in our tent in our fenced-in back yard.

On rare occasions though, my parents would actually pack up the tents, and all of my brother's campsite cooking gear, and we would head out for a night of real camping in the woods.

I loved it. 

We would build a campfire, roast marshmallows and my dad would tell us stories that would scare me silly. I didn't mind sleeping on the hard ground, my head resting on a jagged rock for a pillow. 

I didn't mind using the campsite restrooms that didn't offer soap. Or warm water. 

I didn't mind waking up in the morning, freezing from the cold, and soaking wet from the dew that had leaked through the tent's sides. It was all part of the grand experience!

As I got older though, my love of camping waned. I preferred a warm, comfy bed to the hard, cold sleeping arrangements of the great outdoors.

When Richard and I were dating, I actually asked him if he liked camping, because the last thing I wanted was to marry a man who would make me go camping with him all summer long, and I'd have to pretend I loved it. Because like 15 years into our marriage we'd be having an argument one day and I'd be all, "Well ya know what? I NEVER liked camping!" And then his whole world would be shattered it would be just a big, ugly mess.

So I was relieved when Richard told me that he too, is not a fan.

I can't remember which was my last camping trip: the one where my brother and I hiked down to the beach and got attacked by sand fleas, or the one where I drank too many Mike's Hard Lemonades, woke up at 3am, couldn't find the restroom and had to pee in the dark, bear-infested woods. Either way, I haven't gone camping in nearly six years. I think I'm done with all that out-doorsy stuff.

We have two sons though, and I was certain that around ages three and four they would probably get the desire to camp out in the back yard. 

But I think it may have happened sooner than I was expecting.

Recently, I ordered two miniature tents, which are meant for traveling with. I am planning to take them with is when we travel to Hawaii and then Illinois this winter. Since both the boys can climb out of cribs now, I wanted them to have something to sleep in that they cannot escape from, so that I won't have to stay up all night guarding our hotel door making sure they don't take off with any strangers...or let one in.

They love the tents. 

I mean, it must be some genetic thing in boys. Like, they just know they are supposed to be into camping out and roughing it and stuff. They were playing in the tents all weekend, so Saturday night I decided I would indulge them a bit.

And we camped out.

Mommy-style.

Their tents:

My tent:

 Okay, that's just my bed.

Our campfire:

(Battery-operated candles).

There were even wild animals roaming around the campsite:

 

It was some legit camping up in here.

Except that it was a pleasant 70 degrees, and I didn't wake up wet from dew, bitten from sand fleas, or hung over from Mike's Hard Lemonade. And my bathroom was two feet away, offering me more than enough soap and warm water.

I think I might just be in love with this whole camping thing again.

Mine

I never liked babysitting. 

I hated when people would ask me to babysit. They just assumed that all fourteen year old girls love little kids and babies, and I was too nice to tell them no.

I hated it though. Every minute of it. 

I hated the whiny voices and the messy meals. I hated how all the toys in the house were always sticky and dirty. I wasn't comfortable holding babies. They were so wiggly, and their heads bobbed around unnaturally, and I just knew that I would break them. And when they cried? It was all over. 

I think the little ones could smell my fear.

I didn't want to play with the kids; the idea of hide-and-seek or pretend play was so dull to me. I would simply plug them in front of a movie and then write notes to my friends that I would give to them the next day at school, (sadly for me, there was no texting or Facebook when I was a teenager).

Yeah, I was pretty much an awesome babysitter.

I have just never been crazy about other peoples' kids. 

I didn't melt over their photos, or want to hold their babies. I just had no interest in them, and yet, I always knew I wanted my own kids. I knew that all I wanted in life was to be a stay-at-home mom. And I wanted lots of kids.

When I got pregnant with Jacob, I wasn't scared to be a mom. I was ready. I was excited to have my own baby. I remember when I had my first ultrasound done at 10 weeks, and the doctor printed off the pictures and gave them to me, I had never felt so proud in my whole life. That's my baby, my very own baby, and look at how perfect she is! (I assumed Jacob was going to be a girl until we found out otherwise). 

Nevertheless, when I was leaving the doctor's office and went back out to the waiting room I had to bite my tongue because all I wanted to do was shove my ultrasound pictures in the face of the waiting room attendant and tell her all about how awesome and perfect my baby was.

When I was in labor with Jacob, I remember being in horrible pain, it was the worst I had ever felt in my life. I had my eyes squeezed shut and was just trying to get the process over with. All the sudden my mom said, "Oh my gosh, Kellyn, look!"

I opened my eyes, and Jacob was out, and they were holding him up in front of me and oh my God. 

All that pain instantly went away; I had never seen a more perfect, beautiful sight in my whole life. It was amazing. I just fell in love.

And then they put him in my arms and I melted into him, and it was perfect. It was like he'd always been in my life, and I was so comfortable holding him and caring for him.

While Ryan's birth was a little more complicated because of his prematurity, the same thing happened. It was like he had always been a part of our family and even though I worried over his skinny limbs, I wasn't afraid to hold him or love him.

Now my sons seem so big in my eyes and they make me laugh every day. I love getting on the floor and playing with them and tickling them. I love making them meals that they enjoy. 

I love how Jacob's finger nails are always dirty, and how Ryan always seems to have grape jelly in his hair. I think they are adorable when they have little runny noses, and when they get grass stains on their clothes from playing outside.

I'm so different with my own children, versus the teenage Kellyn who used to babysit. Becoming a parent is truly unlike anything else in this world. There is a bond that no one can replicate. 

When I used to babysit, I would watch the clock and pray the hours would go by fast so I could go home and get away from those loud, messy kids. 

Now I pray that God will make the days go just a little bit slower, and keep my babies from growing up too fast.

Flash Back Friday - Like Father Like Sons

My friend Chris very kindly pointed out to me that I have been neglecting to do my "Flash Back Friday" segments. 

I admit, it's been harder to do than I originally thought. I had planned to put a lot of old diary entries, and college papers on here. But, as it turns out, most of those college papers aren't very interesting to read, and as for the diary entries - let's just say I won't torture all of you with the musings of a dramatic 15 year old girl.

But I think it's fine for me to put pictures on here, which leads me to this week's theme.

When Richard gets home from deployment I am planning to blow up photos of the boys, and put giant words on them that say things like "Welcome Home Daddy!" and, "We Missed You!", etc. Then we're going to place the welcome home signs along our street leading up to the house.

I took these pictures of the boys yesterday evening, wearing miniature Sailor uniforms. These are the photos I plan to use to make the signs:

Jacob in his Sailor uniform

My kids are so patriotic

After I uploaded the pictures to my computer though, I was instantly reminded of a similar one taken a couple decades ago...

Richard, wearing a similar uniform. Awww!

 

 It's funny though, because I have always thought that Ryan most resembles Richard, but when comparing the photos I took of the boys, to this one of Richard, I kind of think that Jacob looks more like him, at least at that age. 

I really see the similarities in this photo in particular:

Happy Flash Back Friday!

I See London, I See France...I See Girly Underpants

Last week I wrote about how I've been having problems with Jacob taking his diaper off. He even knows how to unhook a diaper and pull it off through the leg holes of a onesie. So I decided to try to outsmart him by putting him in a Pull-Ups diaper, since those don't unhook. The only problem is that Pull-Ups aren't designed to be peed in for 8 hours, so I had to search for Nighttime Pull-Ups. I was so excited when I found them in the diaper section at Target. I bought them and took them straight home.

They have been working pretty well, except that I recently noticed a small problem.

The Pull-Ups are Disney Princess-themed.

It wasn't until like the fourth time that I was putting one on Jacob that I actually stopped and looked at the cartoon printed on the front of the diaper. 

Yeah, I'm super observant.

I'd be that parent that buys their child a toy that is supposed to "I love you!" but instead, we get the defective one that says "I'm gonna kill you!" and I wouldn't even realize it until five years later when we're selling it at a garage sale, and some other parent, who is far more observant, points it out.

That's me.

So now I have a pack of Sleeping Beauty Pull-Up diapers that are half gone at this point, so I obviously can't return them now, and I'm certainly not going to throw them away when I paid $15 American dollars for them. I just distract the boys when I change them, so that they don't notice the pretty princess on their underpants, (to avoid causing them any sort of confusion about their masculinity). And I try to use the diapers as often as possible so that all the evidence will be gone by the time Richard gets home, because I have a feeling that my military husband would NOT be okay with his sons wearing these:

Seriously! How did I NOT notice??

Diaper Dilemma

I wrote a couple months ago about a very horrible incident I dealt with regarding Jacob and a diaper he removed during naptime. It was not fun. 

Unfortunately, things only seem to be getting worse. Jacob's aversion to diapers is growing, but, I just don't think he is quite ready to be potty trained. I don't feel like torturing him with the potty when he is unprepared, and doesn't understand, and dumping loads of frustration and tears upon both of us. I just don't want to go there. 

I don't mind waiting until he is closer to three years old, I really don't. I have visions of potty training taking just a couple days at that point, when he will fully understand and be more than willing to leave diapers behind forever. I know he is not to that point yet, and I don't see any need to force it.

And yet.

He HATES diapers. He will go to unbelievable lengths to take them off. And just when I think I have outsmarted my two year old, he goes and one-ups me.

Take last night for instance, I put him in a onesie when he went to bed, because regular pajamas - the sleeper kind, that zip up the front - don't work. He simply unzips them, and in two shakes he is naked as the day he was born. 

So I put him in a onesie, knowing that he doesn't know how to unbutton them. And what did I find this morning? Jacob, still in his onesie, still fully buttoned. But, my Houdini-esque child had somehow gotten his hands inside the onesie, undid the diaper and took it off through his shirt. Like how a woman would take her bra off. And I didn't learn to do that until I was like 20, so this kid has some serious skills.

Annoying as they may be.

Then after nap time today I went into his room, only to find him buck naked, he had taken off his pants, sweater and diaper, and was standing there saying "All clean!"

Obviously he doesn't care for them, and I am not so fond of this situation myself, but I honestly don't know where to go from here. I looked up suggestions on the internet of what other people have done. Some suggested actually duct-taping the diaper, and someone else recommended putting a t-shirt over the sleeper pajamas, so he can't undo the zipper. 

I guess I will try both of those, but if anyone of you out there have another suggestion that I haven't tried - PLEASE share. I am getting desperate.

Worst Flight Ever

The wings were iced over. 

The ground crew kept deicing them, but within a couples minutes they were iced over again. We were nearly 45 minutes late taking off because of this continual deicing process. 

My worst flight ever.

It was December 2003, in Billings, Montana. My brother and I were on board a Horizon flight, all packed and set to go home for the Christmas holiday, except that it was five degrees outside, snowing, getting dark, and those freaking wings wouldn't stop icing over.

My brother Tim is a commercial pilot, (I know, cool huh? Sorry girls, he's married). But in the winter of 2003, he was still going to school for aeronautical science. He had been flying for several years at that point though, so I liked flying with him. Whenever I would get nervous about a bit of turbulence, or a strange sound, I would just look at him, and if he appeared relaxed and unconcerned, then I knew there wasn't any reason to be worried. 

The fact that we were delayed getting off the ground due to bad weather and ice didn't seem to bother Tim, so I tried to not let it bother me. I was so thankful when we finally took off and got above the clouds. I figured we were good to go for the next hour and a half to Seattle. It was a small plane, and Tim and I were seated in the very front row. The flight attendant was preparing to start the beverage service. He stood only a couple feet away from us, getting his cart ready.

All of the sudden, we heard a pop and then an alarm started screeching. Loud. Piercing. Terrifying. The flight attendant's face froze and he ran - RAN - to his seat at the back of the plane. He had abandoned us! I looked at Tim - my last resort - for comfort. He looked at me, serious as I'd ever seen him, and said, "Tighten your seatbelt. It can't hurt."

OMG! OMG! OMG! We're all going to crash and die!

That alarm went on for what seemed like an eternity, although it was probably less than two minutes. No joke, folks, it sounded like the roof of the plane was going to rip off, sucking us all out into the frigid air with it. My heart was racing and I was saying as many prayers as I could. 

Finally the captain came on and gave some explanation, that, honestly, I didn't even hear because I was still too frightened. In the end though, we landed safely in Seattle. But that was my worst flight ever.

When you have kids, the things that used to scare you about going on airplanes kind of shifts. As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I still worry about the plane crashing. But when I travel with my kids, my thoughts are usually occupied with worrying about whether or not they will behave on the flight, and hoping that they don't make a terrible scene.

I've had some pretty interesting flights since becoming a mom. In fact, it started before Jacob was even born. 

Richard was taking me to Virginia to see where his parents live. We were on a red-eye flight. I was about 10 weeks pregnant with Jacob, and while I hadn't dealt with any real morning sickness, I had bouts with nausea every now and then.

Everything was going fine, to begin with. Richard was sitting at the window, I was in the middle, and a man, who I did not know, was in the aisle seat. About an hour into the flight, I started feeling notsogood. I was afraid to tell Richard, because I didn't want him to freak out, so I tried to convince my stomach to chill, and to understand that it was seriously not a convenient time.

It didn't work. 

Richard looked over at me at one point, and said, "You look kind of pale. Are you feeling okay?" 

Right then, my nausea kicked into overdrive. I knew we had a problem! I shook my head no, afraid to open my mouth to speak. Richard started searching desperately in the seat back pockets for barf bags, and OF COURSE, we were the only two seats on the entire plane that didn't have them. 

Uh oh. 

Vomit was coming up my throat, I slapped my hand over my mouth, in an attempt to keep it down. Richard looked terrified, thinking I was about to puke all over him. I knew I couldn't wait for him to ask someone if we could borrow their barf bag, so I literally jumped over the stranger next to me, and raced like 13 rows up to the front bathroom. I just barely made it. I didn't even have a chance to shut the door behind me before I was throwing up.

So that was a bad flight.

Then we had a nice break for awhile. Jacob was a really easy baby. Before he was six months old he flew to Hawaii, California and Virginia, and he did great on all those flights. After that we didn't do any flying for awhile. 

Last December we flew to Illinois to spend Christmas with Richard's parents and extended family. At that point, Jacob was 20 months old, and Ryan was 9 months. I had Jacob in my lap, and Richard had Ryan in his. Because of airplane rules we weren't allowed to sit in the same row, so Richard and Ryan were seated about three rows behind us. I knew Richard was nervous, since that was his first time flying with both the kids.

Not even five minutes into the flight, Ryan barfed all over Richard's shirt. Since I was so far ahead of them, and in a window seat, there was nothing I could do to help, so he sat there for the next three hours with a whimpering Ryan, and dried puke on his sweater.

Jacob didn't throw up on me, but I think I might have preferred that. He spent the entire three hours screaming and kicking at me and thrashing his arms. It was exhausting to say the least, and only slightly embarrassing.

The minute we landed in Chicago and the four of us were reunited, Richard looked me straight in the eye and said, "We're not having any. more. kids. And we're never flying with them again!"

That was our last trip with them. It's been almost nine months, and today we are heading to California to visit my mom's family. I keep telling myself that it's not even a three hour flight, and that this will be Jacob's first time in his car seat on the plane. He normally loves being in his car seat, so I am keeping my fingers crossed that we don't wind up being that family that the rest of our fellow passengers shoot dirty looks at, and then recant to their family and friends for years afterward of their "Worst flight ever".

Please tell me about your worst flight ever, so that hopefully, whatever ends up happening today, won't be as bad as the stories you share. 

And if they aren't worse than today's flight, then I guess I will just have to update this post on my worst flight ever.

The Name Game

It took Richard and me a long time to agree on a name for Jacob. I, of course, wanted to go through all the name books and consider every single name that is in existence, while Richard wanted me to consider the name David. 

That was his one suggestion. 

It was exhausting; we would talk names every night for months, never agreeing. For the longest time I was set on Benjamin and Richard was stuck on David. We had come to an impass. 

We got to Jacob in a sort of roundabout way. There was one other name Richard was willing to consider: Jack Bauer. But it had to be Jack BAUER. As in, Jack Bauer MacQuarrie. And omigod there was no way any child of mine was going to have that name. 

I did like Jack though, but Richard wasn't willing to separate the Jack and the Bauer, and so while thinking about a variation of Jack, Jacob suddenly came into my head. Neither one of us had thought of it yet, but once we said it, we both knew Jacob was going to be our first child's name. For a couple weeks we had chosen Isaac to be his middle name. Jacob Isaac MacQuarrie, we thought we were done. Then one day Richard's mom called, and suggested that we use Andrew as a middle name. Everything seemed to click then. Andrew is my dad's middle name, and with the initials J.A.M., Jacob would be just like Richard's dad, Jeff.

When it came time to name Ryan, I think Richard was still worn out from thinking of a name for Jacob, so when we found a name we agreed on pretty early in the pregnancy, he settled on it, and would not budge. We named Ryan backwards, in a way. 

Richard had always liked the name Walker, and I did too, but I couldn't picture it as a first name. I kept getting tripped up when I would imagine our future son learning to walk, and I thought I would sound ridiculous saying, "Walker is walking!" So we decided it would be his middle name. At that point, I thought it would be cute for this baby to have the same initials as Richard, since his middle name also starts with a W. We began going over R-names, and we agreed on Ryan. It was only after we chose it, that I realized what a perfect fit it was. Richard and I both have cousins named Ryan, and my Great-Grandma Miller's maiden name was Ryan...But, if I'm being totally honest, about 50% of my reasoning behind agreeing to Ryan, was simply because I thought RyRy was the cutest nickname in the world. I swear, Ryan will be 40 years old and begging me to Please. Stop. Calling. Him. RyRy.

Some people think my boys' names are plain, and, okay, fine. I will give you that. They're not unusual names or names you have never heard before. I suppose we could have named them Rainforest and Tundra or something along those lines, but for me, their names would be lacking. There would be no meaning behind them, other than a desire to be different from what society expects, and honestly, I already went through my rebel-phase back in high school. I didn't feel like condemning my children to a lifetime of mispronunciations, ridicule or strange looks, by giving them crazy names.

I love the names we chose for our sons, and the family connections within those names. I think it's important for them to be reminded of the family members who came before them, and that, not only do they have the MacQuarrie name to honor, but the relatives who inspired their first and middle names as well.

Actually, now I see it typed out, maybe I will keep Tundra in mind for the next kid.

While They Were Sleeping...

I remember as a kid, my parents telling me how they would sometimes come check on me at night when I was asleep.

I never understood why.

Did they think I was going to run away? Did they think aliens were going to abduct me (even though they told me aliens didn't exist)? I mean, why did they come into my room? It didn't make any sense to me. I just assumed that primetime TV must have been pretty dull in the 1990's if it was more entertaining for them to simply watch me sleep.

Well, a few years went by, and I eventually became a parent myself. All of the sudden, I developed this fascination with watching my boys sleep. As infants, they were so tiny, and I was terrified that they might stop breathing at any minute, so I really couldn't look away. Then they got a little bigger, and watching my chubby babies as they snoozed in bed at night was just hypnotizing; it was the cutest darn thing I've ever seen. Then they got a little bigger. 

Jacob is nearing two and a half and Ryan will be 18 months on Saturday. They are so busy during the day, running and jumping and climbing and yelling. They are full of such non-stop energy, that when they do finally pass out at the end of the day, in their cute pajamas, with those sweet little faces set in such innocent expressions, I cannot keep myself from checking on them every now and then. 

Yes, I want to make sure all is right in their perfect little worlds, but I love it. I love just watching them in that peaceful state. I talk to them, and tell them how much I love them, and how I want them to have every joy in this life, and never know a moment of pain. And when I know that they are both content, and hopefully dreaming pleasant dreams, I leave them to their sleep.

If I was half as cute as these these two are, then I totally get what my parents were doing now.

Best Buds

Tough Times

Oh, sorry. I don't mean to talk while my mouth is full.

I was just eating my words.

A big heaping bowl of my words.

You see, I used to say that I thought a lot of the problems associated with the 'terrible twos' were related to how the parents approached this stage in a child's life. I assumed that if the parent was an overly dramatic individual and didn't understand the reasoning behind why toddlers act the way they do, then those parents would freak out over every little thing, when really, age two is such a fun time!

Oh, hold on, gotta eat some more of my words here.

Yeah, we've been struggling lately. We are in the thick of this two year tug of war, Jacob and me. Every night after I put the boys to bed I just collapse on the couch, completely spent after yet another day of Jacob hitting, and throwing, and crying, and screaming, and pushing, and whining, and tantrum-ing. It is exhausting. It seems as though we have really reached a high point in this past week.

It's frustrating for me, it's frustrating for him. I wish that Richard were here to help. Sure, he'd probably be about as clueless in this field as I am, but we could be clueless together. And then when I am feeling totally drained, I could at least say, "Tag, you're it!" then run and hide in the bathroom for half an hour and just breathe in some silence, while he dealt with the two year old alien that has decided to inhabit our home. I feel like calling some customer service number and complaining that my baby is defective - my once sweet, gentle infant has turned into an unpredictable time bomb. Sometimes I feel like I am walking through a field of mines, except in this scenario, the mines are tantrums. Sigh.

Today has been another difficult one. While I realize that with some better planning on my part we could have avoided some of our issues, I still feel absolutely depleted. Jacob had been crying for so long that he was gasping for air, Ryan had started whimpering, and so I decided there was nothing else to do but join in. And we all cried. Now my eyes itch and my head hurts and I could really use an adult beverage, but that will just have to wait a couple more months until I've got a backup parent on duty.

Just when I get to thinking that I am on my last nerve and I start wondering if there is a time limit on returning children, (I could have sworn I saved that receipt...), Jacob goes and does this:
Awwww my sweet, precious angel! That smile is heavenly, who couldn't love that little face? I don't know why people complain about this age, it is so much fun! The twos are terrific!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

The Little Things

I've mentioned before, that even as a stay-at-home mom, sometimes the days can blur, and the time can slip by all too quickly. It feels like only yesterday was early spring, and here we are, about to head into fall. They boys seem to change on a daily basis, and I have been trying to keep track of the new, cute things they've been doing. While this is a blog about life and family, I also want to be able to look back at it as a reminder of what it was like to have toddlers in the house. I take pictures. LOTS of pictures. Maybe even too many pictures, sometimes. And while pictures show how stinking cute these kids are, it doesn't tell the whole story of what they do on a day-to-day basis, and, well pictures don't show...the little things.

Jacob

Ah, Jacob. I look at him and I am filled with pride at my oldest son, yet simultaneously struck with the desire to cry. He is so big, a little boy, really. His baby fat is disappearing, and he can communicate with me through words so well. I struggle to understand how it is possible that the next birthday he celebrates will be his third. That just sounds too old; to me, he is still my baby - and I will probably always feel that way.

At the same time, it is so exciting to watch him learn and grow and change. Every day he seems to learn a new word, and not only that, but he also grasps the meaning and proper usage of words, which is really fun. This past weekend he learned the word "darn", and that you say it when something doesn't go your way. On Sunday, Jacob kept trying to open the front door, and I was holding my hand against it. I told him the door was "broken", and that we couldn't go outside that day. Jacob's response: "Darn!" After our incidents last month with him playing in the cars and inevitably burning up the car battery a couple times, I now keep the car doors locked. Every time he walks by the cars he tries to open the doors, and when he can't, he yells, "Darn!" It sounds so cute coming from his tiny little voice.

Jacob is super polite. He knows to add the word "please" whenever he wants something. For example, he will say "up please", if he wants to be picked up, or taken somewhere. Then the other night I fed him his favorite pasta and butter dish. After he had finished all the pieces on his plate, he looked at me and said, "More please!" And he also knows how to ask for milk, which kind of sounds like "nook", but, I know what he means. So when he is thirsty ("dirsty"), he will say "Nook, please!" It warms my heart hearing him talk, but even more so when he uses such nice words.

Don't get the wrong idea, though. Jacob is still very much a two-year-old, who is prone to tantrums. When he gets upset, his face scrunches up, and he will start slapping his hand against his thigh; it's almost funny. You can't help but empathize with him, it must be awful feeling all that frustration and not yet knowing how to express it. I am working with him on talking when he gets upset though, so I will say "Use your words, Jacob. Tell me what's wrong." The other day, Ryan was running around with an empty Gerber Cheeto container, and Jacob saw it, and started crying, so I told him to use his words, and through his tears and sad little voice he cried, "Cheee-(takes a breath)-tos!" I really wish I had video of it, because, even though it's sad to watch your child be upset, it is soooo cute hearing him talk when he is in that state.

Jacob has also decided that he is on strike from wearing diapers. If I don't put clothes on him as soon as he gets his diaper changed, then within five minutes he will have that diaper ripped off! If this meant that he wanted to get potty trained then I would be his biggest supporter, except that Jacob Hates! The! Potty! He won't go near it, it's like he thinks he is going to get flushed down the toilet...much like the fear I have of airplane toilets. So, I totally get it. But in the meantime, he is wasting diapers, which are not cheap. And since he is not potty trained, I have to follow him around to make sure he doesn't pee all over the house. Sigh. Something's gotta give.

All in all though, Jacob remains absolutely adorable. Every morning when I am carrying him and Ryan to the table for breakfast, I ask him if he can give Ryan a kiss, and he always leans over and kisses his little brother on the forehead. Talk about cute! And Jacob's love of music continues to grow. I know I am his mom, so I may be a little biased here, but he has got a seriously good singing voice for a two-year-old. He is on pitch, and knows the right notes for the songs. If ever he is in a bad mood, I can usually get him to cheer up by asking him to sing me a song. I won't be at all surprised if music is a big part of his future.

Ryan

Ryan! (yes, he gets an exclamation point because he is one busy little kid), is all boy. "Classic boy", as my Dad pointed out. He loooves cars, and trucks, and basically anything that has wheels and GOES. He likes to push them along the floor, blowing raspberries with his lips, imitating car sounds. Adorable. His other hobbies include getting as dirty as he possibly can, whether it is by rolling in the dirt in the yard, or rolling in the sand at the beach (and eating some of it). He is also usually a big ole mess after mealtime too. He's just busy and active and always running around, trying to keep up with his big brother. Yesterday, he jumped up and started running as fast as he could, yet he wasn't looking ahead of him, and he ran right into a wall. Saddest, and kind of funniest thing ever. He was totally okay! And then last night, right as I was about to put the boys to bed, the poor thing pulled one of our kitchen chairs onto himself. It scared me half to death - thankfully he is A-Okay, but he has a HUGE goose-egg on his forehead. Just one of many I am sure he will get throughout his childhood.

Not to be outdone by Jacob, Ryan is working on talking too. Although, I'm not sure if most people would understand a lot of the things he says, but as his Mommy, I have come to know how to translate on his behalf. A new word he learned last week was "Apple", which sounds like "Bapo", he can also say "milk" and "truck", which, incidentally sound the same: "Gak", so you just have to figure out in which context he is applying the word.

Ryan loves, loves, loves dogs. I am sure that as soon as he is able to ask for a dog, that is all he will say. We have gotten to keep my parent's dog, Millie, overnight a couple times this week. Whenever he sees her, Ryan gets so excited and yells "MeeMee!" (Millie). He chases her around, trying to grab ahold of her tail, and a couple times he has found her while she has been laying on the floor, and he crawls onto her back and tries to ride her like she is a pony. Poor "MeeMee", she is a good sport.

Ryan's got some funny quirks, too. Ever since he was an infant, he has always liked to have blankets completely covering him, including his head. I remember putting him to bed at night and placing the blanket all the way over him, and if he woke up in the night, it was usually because some part of him was showing, and he couldn't get the blanket back over himself. Now that he is bigger and gets himself to sleep, I always laugh when I go to check on him at night and he has burrowed himself under the blankets. It doesn't even matter how warm it is in the house; this week temperatures have soared into the 90's, and still, he burrows himself. Also, he likes to have a toy in each hand. If we go on a walk, I usually pick apples for the boys to eat along the way, but Ryan requires two, or else you WILL be hearing about it for the remaining mile and a half of the walk.

So these are just some recent observations on my boys. I know I will enjoy looking back on these stories as they grow, and it will also be nice for Richard when he gets home, as he is not able to read this blog out at sea, so he will be able to catch up on all the little things.

My Husband Says the Funniest Things at the Most Inappropriate Times

My husband, Richard, is a funny guy. Oftentimes, we will be having a conversation with someone, and they will ask him a question and he will look at me with a confused expression, because at some point a few topics back, he completely zoned out. Or other times, in the middle of a conversation, he will interject with something completely off topic. He has ADHD, so I usually blame it on that. I admit, this used to get on my nerves a bit, but over the years I have become accustomed to it, and I try to watch for signs of him zoning out, so that I can pull him back into the conversation. Or if he throws something way out of left field, I will try to tie it into the original conversation. Other times though, his antics, while funny in hindsight, can be totally inappropriate at the time.

When I was in labor with Jacob, my amniotic fluid was leaking pretty much non-stop all evening, from the time I got checked into the hospital. Labor is an uncomfortable, undignified situation to be in. It's not fun for anyone, least of all the mom who is in labor. Even though I was 9-months pregnant and huge, squeezed into a hospital gown (that could not possibly be intended to fit a pregnant woman), and trying to work my way through early contractions, I still had to go to the bathroom, oh, every 10 minutes or so, you know, because I had an eight-pound baby pushing on my bladder. So a few times an hour I would have to push myself up off the hospital bed, and waddle to the bathroom. OH! And don't forget that I was receiving antibiotics through a vein in my hand, so I had to shuffle to the bathroom, one hand holding onto the antibiotic cart, my other hand holding my gown closed in the back.

Well, with all of this back-and-forth stuff, some of that amniotic fluid inevitably ended up on the floor. Not a lot, but some. So at one point, Richard came over to check the contractions that were being monitored on the computer next to my bed. He was standing right next to me, talking pleasantly, when all of the sudden he looked down. He stepped aside neatly at first, as though he just stepped in a puddle. Then you see him make the connection. His face contorted in disgust and he jumped, "Oh my God! Did I just step in...your...stuff??"

Nice. Like I'm some sort of freak. But he was only getting started!

So a few hours and one epidural later, it was time to push. With Jacob I had to push for an hour. I know that compared to a lot of people, I was pretty lucky, but for me, that hour felt like an eternity. About halfway through, sweat dripping down my face, my dignity LONG gone, and my entire body aching with pain, Richard felt it was necessary to inform everyone that his "stomach really hurt".

Now, please take note: should you ever end up in the same room with me while I am in labor, you will not find the usual quiet, reserved Kellyn. No, 'Hellyn' has no filter. (That's not a typo, it's a combination of my name and Hell, because when I am in labor I basically take on a voice like something straight of The Exorcist). 'Hellyn' says whatever she wants and never apologizes. That being said, here is how I responded to my husband's pain: "YOU'RE stomach hurts?? My whole freaking body hurts! Remember? Having a baby here! I don't want to hear it!"

Yeah, even I'm scared of 'Hellyn'.

You would think that that would have been enough to shut him up for a while, but no. Only about a half hour later, Jacob was thisclose to making his entrance into the world, the nurses had just gone to get the Doctor. (For the record, I just want to say that nurses ROCK! They do all the hard, dirty work, and then the doctor shows up for the last 30 seconds of the show).

Don't get the wrong idea though, we weren't all just relaxing, waiting on the Doctor to appear. I was completely exhausted and on edge, and in the worst pain of my LIFE. Jacob was, to put it nicely, kind of halfway in the world...and halfway not. I was praying that the Doctor was only seconds away, and that was the moment that Richard decided to say, "Hang on a minute - I have to use the bathroom!"

"WHAT!!?" I screamed, "You are not going to the bathroom! I am about to have this baby and I am not waiting any longer than I have to!"

I don't think he used the bathroom for, like, two whole days after that.

Well, 'Hellyn' made a reappearance only 10 months and 10 days later. When I was in labor with Ryan, I had a regular Labor and Delivery nurse, as well as one who was in training. She seemed very timid and quiet, but nice. The first 10 and a half hours progressed uneventfully. Then when it came time to push, my regular nurse took hold of my right leg, and the nurse-in-training went to hold my left leg at the exact moment Richard went to hold it.

Timid nurse: "Oh, oh, it's okay - you take her leg."

Richard: "No, it's fine, you can take it."

Timid Nurse: "No really, you can have it."

Richard: "I don't mind, you can hold it - "

'Hellyn': "Oh my GOD! Someone just take my leg already!"

Richard ended up holding it, and I just hope I didn't scare that poor girl away from the nursing field forever.

Of course, looking back now, these stories make me laugh. When I'm missing Richard the most, one of my favorite things to do is remember fun times we have had together. Though I wouldn't have been so quick to admit it at the time, I am grateful for the funny moments that he added into our sons' birth stories; they wouldn't be the same without them.

And I am super grateful that my husband continues to love me, even though he has witnessed the evil that is 'Hellyn'!