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.

Flying

I never used to be afraid of flying. I loved to travel, and I had a list of all the cities in the U.S. that I wanted to visit. I got an Alaska Airlines credit card about four years ago, so that I could rack up miles and then take short weekend trips to places I wanted to see. That was the plan, anyway.

And then I had kids.

Nowadays, my fear of flying only seems to get worse. Prior to having children, I always felt that, should my plane go down, then it must just be my time to go. I have so much more to lose now, though. And the thing that really bothers me, is not so much the fact that I will be dead, (although I do fear not being able to watch my children grow up), but the thought that my children won't have any tangible memories of me. While I'm sure family members would try to keep me alive for them in a sense, I would never be more real than people they read about in books; and I fear that they would never know how much I love them, if I am not here to tell them myself. These are the terrifying thoughts that cross my mind the entire time I am on a flight.

Luckily for me, the majority of the time that I do fly someplace now, I have my children with me. Traveling with children is a pretty big production, and attempting to keep them occupied and prevent them from going into total meltdown-toddler-drama-rama while in-flight is a great distraction for me. I am usually so busy trying to stay one step ahead of their short attention spans, that I don't have a chance to think about that fact that I am floating 39,000 feet above the earth's surface. The few times I have flown without them though, have been when I am going to visit Richard, and once I am with him, the trip seems worth it, even though I am white-knuckled for the whole flight.

In one week I am leaving for Nashville to attend a writer's conference. I am so excited for the opportunity to meet published writers, network with agents and editors, and learn more about writing and getting published. This is sure to be a positive experience for me. Add to that the fact that I have always wanted to visit Nashville, so I am very much looking forward to going into the city and seeing the sights.

As far as my flights are concerned though, I. Am. Terrified.

I am so afraid that as my fear builds over the next week, that by the time I board the plane, I will become that crazy chick who cries the whole way to Nashville, and all the strangers on my flight will be Facebooking and Tweeting about the emotional wreck they had to sit next to.

I was telling my mom about my new-found fear of flying, and she said the same thing happened to her once she had kids, but she went on to say that you just have to live your life and do the things that you love, despite any fears you may have. Since she's got almost thirty years more experience at this than I do, I asked her, hopefully, if it ever gets better.

Her response? No.

Awesome.

But I keep telling myself that writing is my passion, and aside from being with my husband and kids, it is the one thing that I love, have always loved, and want to pursue in this life. So, if there were ever a reason for me to get on a plane and face my fear, this is it. Sigh.

Does anyone have suggestions on how to get through a flight without weeping uncontrollably, or reaching for the air-sickness bag and/or multiple vodka sodas?

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'!

Games

My favorite time of the day is right after the boys have finished breakfast, and I set them free to play. They are both so good at playing by themselves, and I love to fix my morning coffee and just sit and watch them as they move from one toy to another. They are so imaginative already, and are even talented at making up their own games.

Here are two videos: one of Jacob playing a game he made up all on his own. He found an inflatable pool toy, counts to three, then rolls it across the floor. He thought it was fascinating! The second video is of Ryan playing one of his favorite new games, where he grabs hold of Jacob, then holds on for as long as he can. He thinks it is hilarious! Jacob isn't too fond of that one, but it is pretty cute to watch.

Plagues Upon Us

The other day I was driving home from Seattle and I called my mom to check on how the boys were doing.

Mom: Oh, they're good, but...I think you might have a problem..."

Thoughts flash through my mind - A problem? The boys are sick? They aren't getting along? One or both of them is showing signs of being socially-awkward, or sociopathic - or some other negative socio-word??

Me: Uhm, what's the problem?

Mom: Well, in the last hour, I have killed probably 15 to 20 flies in your house.

Ohmigod. Bugs?! This is so much worse than anything I had thought of.

Me: You mean, like, fruit flies? (Please, please, please let it be just fruit flies!)

Mom: No, like regular house flies. The big ones.

Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!

Me: Ohmigod! Gross! What do we do?? We need to bomb my house. This is so disgusting!


My mom calmed me down, and said she had researched fly infestations. She had taken all of the precautions suggested on how to remove the sources of the flies. That sounded great, but I mean, it's not like we live amongst solid waste, people. I may not be the most organized person, but I do try to keep my house freaking sanitary! Unfortunately, those precautions did not help. Later that day I killed a little over 10 flies myself, the next day was about the same, and yesterday I killed close to 20. For the life of me, I cannot figure out where they are coming from, they just seem to be multiplying out of thin air. It is disgusting and frustrating. It makes me wish more than ever that Richard were home, because I am so not cut out to handle this sort of business.

Then I got another wonderful surprise before dinner yesterday evening. I was about to get the boys' chairs set up, when something caught my eye...something that was moving. Actually, it was about 20 somethings - ANTS. Yes, not only do we have a fly infestation, but we now apparently have an ant infestation on top of it. Seriously? I mean it's like we've got the 10 Egyptian Plagues descending on our house, for crying out loud.

No sooner had I vacuumed up those 20 ants, but dozens more appeared. I was almost in tears at that point, and my parents are out of town, so I called my brother and all but begged him to come help me. Tim drove all the way up here - bless his heart - with his baby in tow. He sprayed all around the outside of my house and helped me place fly traps around the windows. I am keeping my fingers crossed now that this is the end of the story, because I don't think I can handle much more.

Oh, but if I start breaking out in boils, all bets are off.

Halfway

I feel like I haven't blogged in ages. This week has really flown by for us, and I am so grateful for that. My best friend from college, Jessica, was visiting for a few days. We had such a great time together, hanging out, staying up till the early hours of the morning reminiscing and laughing. I really needed it; seeing my old friend was like an extended visit to a spa - relaxing and rejuvenating.

Today we reached a big milestone, we are halfway done with deployment. When this journey started, it seemed like we would never get here, and now that we have, it is more exciting than I can say. Richard and I have been counting down the past few days, he even sent me an email at 1am this morning to tell me that we had officially reached the halfway mark. It really seems as though we can start counting down the days, now that we will have the majority of them behind us. Rather than feeling like it will be an eternity until he gets back, things seem a little chaotic now, and I find myself worrying that everything won't be ready by the time he gets home, or that I won't have accomplished everything I wanted to do while he is gone. This halfway point has lit a fire in me, and I am excited and encouraged by this spark of motivation.

The seasons are already starting to turn, too. I can hardly believe it, since we are still in the first week of August, but the tree in our front yard is shedding leaves, and yesterday on our walk I saw a tree a few streets down, and its leaves have already turned that beautiful electric yellow that means fall is upon us. This is exciting too, I am ready for fall, because it means that we are that much closer to Richard's return. I am ready for "sweater weather", hot chocolate, days full of rain and windstorms. I have even pulled out my fall recipes - pumpkin bread, and chili. I think I will force myself to wait until September, but to see that things are already beginning to change...it's almost as if the universe wants Richard to come home too, and I won't argue with that.

Paradox

Sometimes I feel caught in a paradox between not wanting my boys to grow up too quickly, yet wanting the days to fly by so that Richard will get home. I know I can't have it both ways.

The boys have already changed so much in the nearly three months since he left, it leaves me speechless. Jacob becomes more and more like a little boy every day, leaving his baby days behind him. Ryan is quick to keep up with his older brother, and sometimes he seems half baby-half little boy, as he vacillates between the baby-ness of jibber jabber and naptime, to big boy things like saying the words "Ball", "Go" and "Car", and running around.

A few nights ago I found myself in tears as I was looking through old photos of them as little babies. I hardly recognized their cherubic faces; they look like different little people now entirely. I couldn't help but ask myself, Where has the time gone? I know I am tremendously lucky that I get to stay home with them every day, and I count my blessings for that. Yet, even for a stay-at-home mom, things can slip past me, and I find myself in shock that Jacob can sing and count and spell his name, and that Ryan is walking and talking, and will soon be 18 months old! There are no more babies in our house, not little babies anyway. And as awesome as it is to watch them grow and change and learn, it is still heartbreaking at times to know that those wonderful early days are over.

So even though I oftentimes find myself wishing my days away, wanting nothing more than for Richard to be home with us, I have been making a concerted effort to leave the dishes in the sink, to turn the computer off, and to just sit on the floor and play with my boys. I watch them in their play, we sing together, we read together, we chase each other, we tickle, we laugh, we cuddle, we build blocks. We just play, and it is the most wonderful thing in the world. While these moments may go by way too fast, I know that we are creating memories that I will cherish forever.