Baby Steps

Hi, my name is Courtney and I'm the mom of three children.

Not babies. Not toddlers. Children.

How did this happen? (I must have blinked)

Logically I know this has been unfolding slowly over time, but in my heart it feels like it was just sprung on me. We potty trained Miller and took down the gate at the bottom of the steps, and POOF, here we are...a house full of kids.

In thousand different ways, I totally love it: I get to sleep in (I mean...relatively speaking),while they put on their own Netflix, I only have to wipe a bum like, four times a day instead of 400, sometimes they tell actual jokes that are actually funny... But in other ways I'm struggling with the transition to this new big-kid life.

For almost seven years I've had a baby in my house; a little diaper-clad tyke (or two) toddling around. We had "two under two", and then three under four (and then five under six for a hot minute that I barely remember). For years we've been buried in baby gear, baby toys, baby books, baby clothes, baby...everything. And sure I realize that in many ways my youngest hasn't really been a baby for some time now, but there is something about having kids "3 and up" that just feels different. It's been a little hard for my brain to adjust to the fact that the little people that inhabit our home aren't actually quite so little anymore.

I pack up out-gown clothes, and wonder if anyone will wear them again... 

I browse library shelves, and realize my stack of "keepers" is too heavy on the board books, and too light on the early readers... 

I go upstairs at the end of the night and my muscle memory walks me around the baby gate that is no longer there... 

I put toddler clothes back on Target racks because I can no longer rationalize that I'll get years and years of use out of them....

This stage is new, and unfamiliar, and keeps taking me by surprise.

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Parents often talk about whether or not they're "done" having kids. Some moms (or dads) just know. They have a sense of contentment and confidence that their family is complete. OH, how I envy that. What would it feel like to just know? Just be? Just live?

But I'm much more unsettled. In this, and really, in all things, always...

In so so so many ways, I am DONE (no thank you pregnancy, or nursing, or the "4th trimester" that for me seems to last a year/the entire rest of my life). And in others, I can't even fathom the idea that the baby days may be behind us (Animal hooded towels! Those alone are reason enough to have 17 more babies!) Every time I pack up another bin of tiny clothes or primary colored gear, I run through alllll the feels:

Sadness that these precious things aren't a part of our daily life anymore.
Guilt over the hoards of things I have in storage, for.... what? when? who?
Shame for my "silliness", and inability to just move on, and let things go...

I don't want my kids to stay babies forever. But I'm also not sure I'm ready to be done with babies forever. Our path is unfolding forward and as much as I adore the glimpses of where we're headed (I do! I really do!) it also hurts to leave the world I know and love.

It's all very "yes and...", in the most heart-wrenching, complicated way.

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And so...what do I do? OH WHO KNOWS? I hem and haw, and pine and wonder...

But through it all, I try to notice and adore. To soak up these last bits of babyhood whenever I encounter them, just in case they really are the last bits of babyhood.

I wrap her up in the flamingo towel she loves, because I know it will be an instant before she's showering on her own and doesn't need me to dry her sweet strawberry scented head. 

I negotiate arguments over lap space, trying to adore the underlying idea behind the bickering: they still want to be close to me. 

I record the silly, quirky things they say, preparing for the day they'll suddenly know how to pronounce "aminals" correctly.

I take pictures- mental and physical- of him in his crib...the last true relic of the baby days that remains...for now...

I know no matter how old they get, they'll always be my babies. And I know no matter how old I get, I'll always be a baby about certain things. (And I for sure know why moms cry at baby showers every time someone opens a copy of "Love You Forever"). For now (/always), I'll just be over here rocking my babies back and forth, back and forth as we move into new stages together...

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A very big day, for a very big girl

Monday was a big day for our little girl...Piper had her first day of pre-school! It was a bit of a strange milestone- it was a big transition to a new school, but since she's been in daycare since she was 4 months old, in a lot of ways it was also the same old thing. 

But even though it could have been seen as just another day in a new place, you know I wasn't letting that happen. Oh no. This was the first day of school...and I was raised that that is a big deal, no matter how big or little you are. (My step-dad just started teaching college again for his...7th (?) year, and my mom still got him a new lunchbox. I believe in all the fanfare, all the traditions, and all the pictures...and I come by it honestly). 

So we've been talking up the new school to Piper...well, since we signed her up last Spring. She knew she wouldn't be in school with her siblings, she knew she was getting a new teacher, she knew it would be a new schedule, but in all of it, she latched on to one detail: she would get to pack a lunch.  Now, this girl's life pretty much revolves around snacks, so I shouldn't have been surprised by her enthusiasm, but she was really excited. She pretty much talked about her lunch all Summer. So, 1: to support her enthusiasm, and 2: to support my crazy, I got really into it too. I started following a few bento box/creative lunch accounts on Instagram (yes, that's a thing. Pretty much everything is a thing on IG) and it's basically taken over my Pinterest. Piper helped me pick out her lunchboxes (Bentgo lunchbox, and Mermaid Lunchbag) and went grocery shopping with me to pick out all the special treats she wanted. (And I surprised her with a new water bottle, and some lunchbox notes).

I wasn't sure she'd appreciate all the effort, but after I gave her a sneak peek that morning, on the car-ride to school she explained to Dustin:

"Daddy, I asked Mama to make me sandwiches for my lunch, and I just meant squares, but she loves me so much that she cut it into hearts."

All the mom points!!!

I tried so hard to make this day special for her...from the lunch, to a surprise "first day" dress and shoes (that I knew were much more her style than mine), to books to read the night before (First Day Jitters and Wemberly Worried) to help ease the transition, I even got her some "school supplies" as a congrats present because I knew she'd be excited to work on her "homework" (aka write her name one million times in purple pen in a donut-themed notebook). I grew up in a house where first days (of school...and anything, really) were a very big deal, so being able to recreate some of that milestone magic for my own kids is super special to me. 

And somehow...blessedly...it ended up just as meaningful for her. I didn't fully expect her to notice (or appreciate) all of my effort. It would have been fine if she didn't. I would have understood if she was overwhelmed and the transition was tough. I wouldn't have been surprised if she suddenly hated all the details I chose (even when she helped pick some...kids are fickle). I figured she might think a couple things were cool, but that she'd also likely be annoyed at all the pictures, and new rules, and shifts in the schedule. Basically I've learned a thing or two about motherhood over the long-long days and very-short years, and I set my expectations low, trying not to be too hurt if all of my good intentions weren't met with wildly enthusiastic praise. 

But I cannot exaggerate when I say it was the most perfect day. 

She loved the designs on her water bottle. She requested to read her books again and again. She cheerfully held her sign for pictures. She eagerly "read" the checklist I drew her to make sure she had all of her Very Important Things (lunch, backpack, towel for quiet time...) She patiently waited while we dropped off Fin, and relished the chance to pick the music because she was the only one in the car (besides, you know...me and her Dad and Miller...who don't really count). She was a dream. 

"Mom, what does my sign say?" 

"First day of preschool"

"What does it say?!"

"It says first day of preschool, kiddo"

"But I'm going to Kindergarten!"

She had expressed some nervousness leading up to this day, even complaining that she didn't want to go (lunch notwithstanding), but somehow this morning it was gone. She was so excited, and agreeable, and proud. I could tell she felt like it was a big deal, but also that she was the biggest deal, and that made my heart so happy.

We took all the obligatory snapshots out front...and of course Fin had to get into the action, regardless of whether any of the fanfare actually applied to her. (In an effort to keep things a little bit fair, she did get a new dress for the occasion too).

 

I couldn't really break it to her that it wasn't actually her day...so she got to hold the sign too.

(ham AND cheese, this one.)

(Miller wasn't feeling good that day, so he stayed home from daycare...Maybe he just didn't want to miss the action.) 

Piper was all smiles all through dropoff. We got there a little early, so had time for a few more pics, and of course, a chance for her to "check to make sure" she had everything she needed. So responsible already.

We walked her back to her room, and she immediately found her backpack hook, and her nametag. She gave us big hugs, and quickly and confidently announced "bye mom! bye daddy!", and set to work on the morning's activity: writing on dry erase boards (one of her big-time favs).

And that was it. I didn't cry, or worry, or lament my little baby being all kinds of big. I did have a little bit of a tough time leaving, but just because I knew she was going to do so well, and love it so much, I wanted to watch it all unfold. But Dustin and I walked out together, and headed to work, excited to hear all about her adventures later that afternoon. 

And at 3:14 on the dot I returned to her class to find her cheery as can be, backpack on, ready to pounce on me for a hug. She beamed as we collected all of her Very Important Papers (field trip form, art project, class list- with photos! of her friends!) and she told me all about her day as we walked to the car. 

She had a friend...what's her name? You know, the one with the pretty hair...And another one, she has a fancy dress with pictures on it. Actually, they were pictures of schools!

She ate every bite of her lunch, and yes, she liked the yogurt raisins very much. And she even saved part of her snack for Finny (but not the Oreos).  

She went to art class, but didn't know the teacher's name, but she drew a butterfly, and a caterpillar, and would I like to see it? Here, she'll explain it to me...

She went on the playground two times, and she had naptime, well, towel time, but she calls it naptime, but she didn't sleep, but you don't have to sleep, you just have to be very still, like THIS.....and if you are, then you'll get books, but one friend couldn't be still, so she doesn't think he got books, well maybe he did, actually, but just not as soon as she did. And they don't have story time, really, but they have Bible time, and that's pretty much the same thing anyway.

The after.

After she breathlessly recounted her day for Dustin, I convinced her it might be a good idea to take just a little rest, after such a big day. She insisted she was not tired. At all. But humored us anyway. Five minutes later I found a couple very not-tired people, fast asleep in my bed. 

My heart. x2. 

She must have had a very full day indeed, because she zonked so hard, that she fell asleep again on my lap after we tried to wake her up to go with me to pick up her sister. But she eventually rallied, and was thrilled to go get Fin (making sure I didn't forget the baggie of cinnamon graham crackers she saved her...("Fin! I will try to save you some food tomorrow too, maybe not my lunch, but if there is snack, I will save that for you so you can have some." "Thanks, Piper! If I have snack that you give me, I will share some with you too.")

We ate dinner, and played, and did "soothing bathtime" to try to combat any over-stimulation from the day, and when it was all over, she announced she wanted to go to school EVERY DAY. "But can you please pack something different in my lunch? Because I liked it...but not that much."

Sure, sweet girl. Anything you want. 

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Advent with little ones

Happy last day of November! Otherwise known as...the last chance to get your advent act together! Eeek!

Ok. Don't freak out, because that's the exact opposite of the point of advent- a season when we're supposed to be looking with hope, joy, and gratefulness for our coming Savior. But as a mom of toddlers, with a goal of celebrating the season, it can get a little stressful to feel like I have twenty five days to fill- and I better have some sort of special memory making plan. 

But great news...I do have a plan! And it's called: repeat last year's plan!

When I shared our Christmas tour last year, I showed our advent calendar which I just loved. It was super cute (thanks, Starbucks!) and filled with simple notes for daily activities. It was all pretty small stuff, just enough to be festive, but not so much that it stops being fun. 

My philosophy on advent with toddlers...or...anything with toddlers, is set your expectations low, and cut yourself some slack. (I went into this theory a bit more in depth in a Thrive Moms blog post: "How to do advent without losing your mind"), It can be a super fun time, but it can also be overly busy, and exhausting. But there's so much beauty in this season, and the best part about little kids is that they pretty much think anything is special...especially if you hype it up to them. So we had a blast last year, mostly doing regular stuff- but doing it with gusto! 

So as December 1st approached (quickly!) this year, I wasn't worried! I figured I'd set the whole thing on repeat...we're already ready to roll! Buuuuuuut....then I realized that I never actually recorded all of the activities we did last time. I still had most of the scraps of paper in my tins (a small miracle in itself), but most is by definition not all, so I had a little bit of work to do. Plus, I wanted to tweak things a little bit this time around to match up with our schedule and events we already had planned. So I took a look at our calendar, and typed out a list to use as a cheat sheet for this year's line up of activities.

None of my ideas are particularity unique (a quick google search will lead you to a ton of useful lists, most with very similar activities...This list has a ton of great ones!) but in case you find yourself wanting to make some Christmas-y fun, with minimal planning effort, feel free to copy our list!

Here's what's on the docket this year:

1. Eat a special snack
2. Set up your very own tree
3. Read a book together
4. Write a letter to Santa
5. Go get a Christmas tree
6. Visit Santa
7. Family game night
8. Draw a picture for a friend
9. Have a PJ dance party
10. Sing Christmas carols
11. Look at Christmas lights
12. Buy gifts for kids in need
13. Perform in a Christmas program
14. Make a Christmas card for your teacher
15. Color in a coloring book 
16. Santa bath (Psst...this is just bubbles and a little red & green food coloring!)
17. Facetime with Grandma and Grandpa
18. Movie night
19. Pancake breakfast
20. Make a craft
21. Bake something yummy
22. Recite our bible memory verses
23. Wrap a present
24. Go to church
25. Wish everyone you see a very Merry Christmas!

Fun, right? I know it's not rocket science (flying sleigh science?) but for a type-A planner like myself, making a list is a way to be a little bit more intentional about spending time together. I could probably fill a full year with fun things if I tried, and I certainly could do a better job of making our list more Christ-focused, and filled with opportunities to serve others. But there are still a ton of things we'll do over the next month that didn't make the "official" list, so this isn't meant to be an all encompassing view of our approach to the season. Likewise, there are probably a few entries on the list that just won't happen, but if it all doesn't work out as planned (if...ha!), I figure I'll just put "special snack" on repeat and call it a win. I can guarantee my kids won't mind!

P.s. In other "ghost of Christmas past" news, while I was doing some archive searching (hoping to find last year's list), I was reminded of an online advent calendar I made a few years ago (ok...SIX years ago. crazy talk!) with little activities for each day. So just for fun, I compiled it all into one post- which you can check out and click through for some fun this year (or the next, or the next...)

Soooooo....What are you all up to for the month? Anything we should make sure to squeeze into our plans?

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Miller's Dedication

Last Saturday we had the opportunity to dedicate Miller to the Lord. If you're not familiar with baby dedication, it's a ceremony similar to baptism, where parents promise to shepherd their child and lead them towards a life with Jesus. Our church recently started a new tradition, where baby dedication are held in the families' homes, rather than as a part of the regular weekly service. We dedicated the girls about a year ago, so this process was new to us. So we weren't quite sure what to expect, but hey- it was another chance to throw a party, so I wasn't complaining!

Truthfully, I actually wanted to keep the event as simple as possible...not at all my strong suit. We're adjusting well here, but life is still pretty hectic, so the thought of hosting a formal gathering for tons of family and friends was overwhelming. It's important to me to raise Miller in our family of faith, but the dedication doesn't make or break that...it's simply a nice maker of a larger promise.

So we ended up inviting just family (which was still over a dozen people) for a quick time of prayer, reflection and of course- the ceremonial eating of ice cream! (I said I'd keep it low key, I didn't say it wasn't still a celebration!)

And after just a little bit of stress over getting all of us- and the house- to look presentable, it ended up being the perfect day. Our pastor spoke, giving us encouragement and challenges, for the parenting road ahead of us. My mom cried as I read my note to Miller, and we all laughed at the faux-formality of it all as we stood barefoot in our living room holding our sleeping kid in front of a small crowd of his relatives, while his sisters ignored the speeches, preferring to try on my bracelets and pass out toys to everyone in attendance.

It was short, simple, meaningful, and lovely. (And the ice cream was delicious).

Some snapshots from our day...and my words to my boy:

Miller- you are easy to love. You look exactly like your father and act a lot like a puppy (I mean both of those things in a very good way.) You've transitioned into our family seamlessly (or as seamlessly as a newborn can, anyway) and we quickly fell in love with your smushy face, and sweet demeanor.

But though I don't know a ton about this parenting thing, I know enough to realize that you may not always be this accommodating. So just in case you aren't always quite so cuddly and (relatively) easy to please- I pray your father and I always love you not for how you are, but for what you are. I often find myself hoping you get the good traits of your dad, or worrying you may get the worst bits of me...and as the third child, you're bound to get a lot of comparisons to your older sisters. 

I have a lot of dreams for how you will turn out. I want you to be hardworking, and smart, and kind...I hope you have a good sense of humor, and I know your dad would love another Eagles fan in the family.  Part of our job as a parents is to encourage those traits in you. 

But the vow I make as your mom is to love you no matter what. Even when you're difficult. Even when you're nothing like me. And above all, I promise to remember, and teach you that the most significant and true part of you is what you are: a child of God. 
Your dad and I were specifically chosen and trusted to be your earthly parents and it is our biggest and most sincere prayer that you always know that you were wonderfully made by a loving Father. Your value lies in whose you are.  

How you are is already pretty great but what you are is perfect. 
We love you, Miller August Bowden. We love who, how, and what you are, and are eternally grateful that we get to call you ours. 

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Pack it up, pack it in

Today I have a quick lesson in the art of diaper bag packing. Three kids in, I must be an efficiency expert now, right?

Haaaaaaaaaa.

I present: The Newborn Edition

Mama things: wallet, sunglasses, a pen, hair ties, chapstick, phone, and keys (not pictured, but tucked safely in the outer front pocket). Easy peasy.

Baby things: diapers, wipes, extra outfit, hand sanitizer, wet bag, changing mat. 

When the baby doesn't even know he has hands yet, the packing is delightfully light. 

And now...Diaper bag packing: The 3, 3 & Under edition

Kid things: 

• toy cell phone (so they have something to fight over)
• more pens...I somehow always end up with so many pens
• tissues (that they'll either use up in 2.5 seconds, or refuse to bother preferring their sleeve instead)
• sunscreen (that they must apply their "own self"!)
• assorted bows and clips that they've ripped out of their hair (minutes after demanding to have them put in)
• (broken) crayons
• chapstick (yes, there should be two...I will regret that error)
• random toy pieces from a kid's meal purchased at some point in the last month
• sippy cups, because: so thiiiiiirstyyyyyyy (apparently all the errands I take my kids on take place in the desert)
• sunglasses (again...Ohio is a hot, blinding desert, obviously)
• shoes (because the preschooler will eventually need them because she insists upon wearing flip flops even though they hurt her feet) 
• more shoes (because once the preschooler has shoes, the toddler will want to change out of her flip flops too)
• stuffed animals, more stuffed animals, and the head of a pig costume that the toddler has gotten strangely fond of carrying around
• art masterpieces that should not under any circumstances be folded or "crampled"
• at least 7 baby socks so little mamas can dress up their baby brother

Not pictured (but likely in tow): used tissues, toddler diapers (not because I forgot to photo them...more likely because I forgot to pack them...) and my behavioral incentive of choice (bribe): fruit snacks, 

So basically I'm one kid away from official pack mule status. Throw a blanket on me and call me burro. (Do burros get naps after their treks? If so....I'm in.)

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Can anyone else relate to this struggle? What's the strangest thing you've found lurking in your bag?

{Madeline diaper bag care of Lily Jade. All thoughts (and excessive amounts of junk) are my own}

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Swagger Wagon

Welp. We turned in our cool cards…well…more accurately, we gave up any delusions that anyone even mistakes us for cool these days, and we bought a van.

A photo posted by Courtney Bowden (@bowdenisms) on Jun 3, 2015 at 4:28am PDT

Aw yeah. We joined the ranks of pretty much every American parent, and got ourselves a Honda Odyssey. Otherwise known as: mom jeans on wheels.

But if we’re being honest? I straight up LOVE IT.
The comfort. The ease. The convenience. The 1 billion cupholders. These van designers have got my number.

Everyone jokes that purchasing a minivan is the death to any non-parent identity. People hold on to their cars/SUVs/crossovers like a badge of honor, snootily looking down their noses at the minivan crowd. “I’m not like other moms, I’m a cool mom.” But then….you get pregnant with your third kid, and realize that cool might have to be sacrificed in favor of other factors…like…fitting all the children in one vehicle.

Sure, you can go with a SUV with a third row if you’re trying to hang on and prove a point. But that involves climbing over two kids just to buckle the third one, likely exposing you faded tramp stamp tatt, and scratching the car next to you with your wildly swinging door in the process. Who’s looking cool now?

So as we prep for baby b #3 we realized there’s just no way around it…it was van time. Dustin was actually the hold out, moreso than me. I don’t have much (any) of my identity wrapped up in my car- I’ve pretty much driven some sort of black sedan since around 2002. I did become unnaturally attached to my 1998 Corolla (all the way through 2011) but that wasn’t because of its awesomeness…it was actually because of its neutralness. It was nothing special, and nothing bad. It did things like: drive. And had features like: a radio. And that was alright with me. But Dustin felt stronger about his choice of vehicle, and had a tough time separating van from lame. Honestly though, he flipped to pro-van pretty quickly after we got pregnant with #3. I think it was quite simply our only option, so rather than fight the inevitable, he threw himself into the task of finding the BEST VAN EVER, and he got pretty excited about the swanky features they offered (gadgets=key to a man’s heart). Plus, as Parenthood taught us: These miniature vans have full size power, nowadays. (a quote Dustin uses...liberally.)

We made the decision to trade in Dustin’s Toyota Highlander, and keep my Nissan Versa, so we’ll really only have one vehicle that can accommodate us all simultaneously. The Versa (which Dustin refers to…fondly?…as the mini-minivan) is now our cool-couple-about-town-car. Yeah….

We did do a quick farewell photoshoot to the Highlander, before moving on to greener pastures (actually "modern steel metallic" pastures),,,It may not be his original Wrangler love, but I think he's still going to miss her a bit...

So much humoring of me. So much. 

We've had the new ride just under a month, and it's already gone on its first road trip (holla, Philly!), and been puked in (thanks, Fin!), so, you know, we've pretty much christened it. And now we're looking forward to many years of loading up, piling in, and generally riding off in to our future. With 3 car seat accommodating swagger.

P.S. Check out the history of Dustin's vehicle love or read about that time I almost crashed the car without even starting it.

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The dance of the worker-bee

How are we adjusting?

After announcing that our lives were about to change in a big way, with Dustin going back to work, people have been so kind to ask how we're doing. How are the kids? How does Dustin like it? How are we managing the routine?

Well....the answer is a mixed bag of: Meh. Awesome. Terrible. Good.
It really just depends on the day, or the minute, or the person in question.

It's all a complicated dance that we're choreographing on the fly- constantly checking to make sure we can keep up with the music, without mashing each other's toes or messing up the turns.
Pack the bags, drop off the kids, drive to work, worky-work, drive back, pick them up, eat...something...anything, have some fun- this is supposed to be fun!, now march upstairs, jammies/potty/teeth/book/bed, sleep (please, just sleep), clean-up-pick-up-put-away, collapse and zone out, big finish: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Again, from the top! This time with enthusiasm!  

Whew.

But really, while it can be a manic dance, it's got a lot of good elements:
Dustin really loves his job. It's challenging, and interesting, and new and fun...all the things an adventure should be. Plus they pay him! Score! But really...it's awesome. It's nice to be working together again. The office is big enough that we don't actually see each other much during the day (we work on different teams for different clients) but it's fun to be able to swing by his desk to steal a Coke Zero, or IM each other with the occasional nonsense throughout the day. The biggest perk though, might be the carpool. It's at least a half hour ride each way, so it's nice to have a buddy to share in the joys of snow and traffic. Truly though, while it's not the most romantic setting, it's still an hour of together time each day. And with two toddlers typically running the show at home, I'll take uninterrupted conversation with my husband anywhere I can get it.

Oh...but then...it's also got its share of terrible turns:
The girls are having a rough time adjusting to daycare. I knew it wouldn't be easy to transition from being home full time (two days with G'mi + Papa, three days with Dustin), to going to daycare three days a week, but I was hoping after a couple weeks they'd get used to the routine. Welllllll. Looks like we're going to need more than a few weeks. Because one month in, there are still nightly tears, with sad pleas of "I don't wanna go to school...I don't like school...I don't like the nap...I wanna stay home with you...Please don't drop me off. I don't want you to go!" We've tried everything to make the transition easier. Some of it seemed to help, but in the end, drop off is still a big dramatic cry-fest, with both girls clutching on to us. I know they have fun, I know they're well cared for, but every time it's the same thing. And the worst is the evenings...sure, we get the best greeting EVER when we pick them up (Both of their faces light up when they see us at the door, Piper grabs Fin's hand and yells "Look Fin, Mommy and Daddy are here!"- which Fin already knows, but Piper is the older sister so of course she has to declare these things- and Fin does her chubby little wobble run into our arms. The whole thing is adorable- at least ten times better than I'm describing.) But that joy lasts about five seconds, until it's crying about putting on coats, or not liking the snack we brought, or (yes, again) not liking school. Then it's a mad dash of an evening where we hurry home (sometimes listening to overtired wailing for the whole eight minute ride), scramble to make dinner, play a little, read a little and wrestle them into jammies in time for the age-old battle of "I don't want to go to bed! I'm not tired! I wanted to read books! I don't like these jammies! I don't want to go to school!"  It's all very dramatic, but super common, and age appropriate, but exhausting, and challenging.

So really, it's normal. We're normal. It's all awesome, and terrible, and I guess just a little bit meh right now. During the tantrums, and the crying, and the unexpected delays, it's pretty bad. It feels like we're a mess. We're screwing up all the steps, everyone is miserable, and it's all just defeating. But then there are so many moments of good: when one sister shares her cinnamon roll to cheer up the other...when bedtime isn't a fight, with just a polite request to "Please stay and rub my back for a minute?"...when work is fun and busy and reminds us why we genuinely like going in there every day. Jazz hands, baby!

We've just hit the one month mark of our new dance routine, which is a lifetime and nothing at the same time. Life with kids is full of this type of contradiction: it truly is the best of times, and the worst of times. Sometimes in the same hour. So we just keep plugging away. I think life with a three-nager will get easier (I mean...she'll eventually turn four). Fin won't skip naps forever (right?), and we'll eventually learn that it really is worth it to spend time packing lunches the night before (but Nettttttfliiiiiiiix....) 

In the meantime, I at least take comfort in the fact that there are about a million other people around the world doing basically the exact same dance, albeit to slightly different music. We're all trying to shimmy through the terrible, and waltz through the good, while smiling big for the audience, and holding our partners tight.
And while I very much wish each night's act would end with us holding hands, taking a satisfied bow, and collecting piles of roses at our feet, I know that most evenings we'll shuffle off stage to ice our tired muscles and wrap our sore ankles in preparation for the morning production. Because the show- good or bad, must go on.

(P.s. Thank you to everyone who has asked how we are. Our struggles are typical, our complaints are mundane, but our joys are real and lovely. And we're so so glad to have good friends dancing alongside us through it all.)

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Best songs for little ears (with big opinions)

For the last year or so, every car ride taken with Piper starts with two little demanding words: "MY MUSIC!" It's typically quickly followed with the nicer version (usually/always prompted by us...): "We listen to my music please?" And so we oblige, and crank up "ToDleR Jamzzzz" (ok. Just a kids themed Pandora station.

How did we get here? I ask myself.

Before I had kids....well actually....before I had a 2.5 year old, I sat firmly on my high horse of parental control. I didn't see any reason that having kids meant succumbing to kiddie music. A friend of mine told me every car ride with her family was met with the demand for "Julia Music"! What in the world is Julia music? I inquired. Duh. It's what their 3 yr old, Julia, calls kids songs. I scoffed, thinking (and probably saying, because I have no sense of when to keep my mouth shut) Well that will never be me. We listen to what we want. Piper doesn't have to even know about kids music. She'll just learn to love what we love. Kids shouldn't run the show, you just have to be smart about what you expose them to...

Um. Wrong.

We try to play "good" (our opinion anyway) music for the kids....But toddlers are smarter than I imagined. Somehow they know. They just intrinsically know about kids music. Piper heard it at school, or on a show, or at church...And she knows the difference between these little ditties, and the stuff we tried to raise her on. We've tried to expand her tastes, and take turns with radio controls, but
she knows what she wants. And she wants peppy, catchy, and made just for her (regardless if it makes my ears bleed). And I don't mean to paint myself as some musical purist, or a hipster tastemaker...I pretty much jam on some top 40 and various other guilty pleasures. But even to my pop-lovin' ears, kids music can be pretty painful. (And don't get me started on recordings of actual kids singing. I know it's supposed to be precious and irresistible...But I just can't tolerate it. I mean...unless it's this adorableness.)

So all that to say...We're on the hunt for some tolerable music geared towards kids. And thankfully...we've found some stuff we can work with...or even enjoy. And just in case you've found yourself in the same rockin' boat  mini-van, I thought I'd share some of our favorites: 

We started a toddler station on Pandora...Every song isn't a guaranteed winner, and it's still fairly repetitive, but we're working on it, and it's getting better. From a few song seeds, we've discovered all the above albums, and have at least a short list of our favs: 

Give a Little Bit by Renee & Jeremy
So hipster. So good.

A Place in the Choir by Terri Hendrix
Like riding Splash Mountain in heaven. Love.

Willoughby Wallaby Woo by Raffi
Raffi is like the Elvis/Beatles/Jesus of children's folk songs. Plus the song has names that rhyme with Dustin and Fin, so we're all in.

Three Little Ducks by Julie Frost
We teasingly mock how she oversings on this one, but she's still so obviously talented, and the style isn't refreshingly not cheesy.

This Little Light of Mine by Elizabeth Michell
Such a beautiful version of a classic. Love her voice.

Goodnight by Laurie Berkner
If you have kids, you know about Laurie Berkner. Fact. (or it is now...) Her stuff is a little cliche at times, but this song is just the sweetest, and has become part of our bedtime routine (with Piper yelling out other animal suggestions for new verses...anything to postpone actual sleeping). 

If All of the Raindrops by Laura Doherty
This song just makes me happy. So very happy. 

All I Want is You by The Vespers
Also so hipster. Also so good.

Shortnin' Bread by Caspar Babypants
A million kids songs. All with adorable album cover art. 

So that's what I know...But really I want to hear from you! What should we be listening to? What artists have you discovered who bridge the toddler/adult music gap? Do you have tips on getting your kids to listen to non-terrible stuff?

P.s. Check out my actual favorite kid's album, or read about how I'm so not a lyrical genius.
Oh- and we're working on another station specifically for lullabyes, which you can listen to here. It's pretty much 98% songs by The Piano Guys, and I'm ok with that.

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Big Girl Bed, Big Time Fail

Last Sunday morning at approximately 5:34 we heard a faint thump, followed by a not at all faint scream. 

Dustin rushed into Piper's room (the obvious source of the noise) to find her on the ground. Meaning- outside of her crib. Meaning- she had climbed out. Only half successfully.

She's actually only climbed out of her crib one other time, and that time she hadn't even gone to sleep yet (she was throwing a tantrum about going to bed, and got herself mad enough to scale the bars in an effort to go after Dustin.) Our theory this time, is that she might not have even fully realized she was doing it..maybe moving in a delirious state...but she sure was fully aware when she hit the ground.

So for the next two hours, we had a half awake, fully cranky toddler sharing our bed. God bless you co-sleepers out there...but unfortunately in my house co-sleeping means no-sleeping. At least for the adults. I wish we were one big happy snuggly family, but the reality is Dustin gets pinned down beneath Piper's sweaty limbs, and I lie there counting down the minutes until I'm inevitably woken up by our other baby, and have to split our bed 4 ways instead of 3.

After a couple hours of restless non-sleep, we effectively called the ball, and got up for the day. The fall had scared all of us, so as a part of "Clean up Sunday" (our attempt to make a full day of house projects and to-do list catchup seem fun!) we decided to take the side off of Piper's crib and transition her into a Big Girl Bed (capitalized for increased Awesomeness!)

We had planned to keep Piper in a crib as long as possible. We have another crib for Fin (which she isn't even using yet, but that's another story for another day) so we don't need to change anything for Piper, and we've always heard waiting is best if you want to avoid having a toddler, well, toddling, around all night without your supervision. A crib is essentially baby-jail, and we were happy to use it as such. Until our little jail bird started to make a break for it. Then we started to have visions of broken arms (or worse) and thought we'd be better off dealing with the transition to a bed, than trying to contain her.

Let me spoiler-alert you right here...
Oh. You already read the post title? Well then you can see where this is headed.

We talked briefly about the best plan of action, and before either one of us really thought it all the way through, the bars were coming off.

Now let me stop you right there if you're going to tell me that it's best to attempt this transition in a thoughtful manner, after everyone is well rested, and clear headed, and probably not on the heels of a week long toddler stomach flu. These are helpful tips...but only if you had given them to me Sunday morning.

And to be honest, we knew all the drawbacks of this plan, but the alternative- a climbing Piper, a falling Piper, a dented Piper, a wailing Piper, seemed like much more serious drawbacks. So we pressed on, whether we had the backup guardrails or not. (We did not.)

And right about now is when we were feeling like big time cocky rockstars for our genius plan. Piper was loving the Big Girl Bed.

Loving it!

She played in there for a while, having fun putting her animals to sleep, and learning to "make her bed" - aka- spending 20 minutes trying to flatten out her blankets with her tiny chubby hands.

We were encouraged by her enthusiasm, and when bedtime arrived, it went as smooth as ever (which is only kind of smooth...but that's not the bed's fault.) 

But a few hours later, we heard another thump. Followed by another scream. 

This time she hadn't climbed out, she had fallen out.

We rushed to her side, and though she was physically fine (it's only about a foot to the floor after all), she was understandably upset about it. Dustin held her and patted her back, while we mouthed silent plans to each other, shuffling pillows around, and switching her mattress to the floor, and back into her bed again. We tried putting her down another two or three times before she finally settled- the end arrangement being her mattress back in her crib frame, this time with two towels rolled up under the sheet as a barrier, and a pile of pillows on the floor just in case. We left her and cross our fingers that she'd stay put until it was light out, at least.

What came next?

Another thump.

This time no scream though. By the time I came to rescue her, she was asleep again. Asleep. On her belly. On top of a pile of pillows on the floor. I scooped her up, and she ended up more angry about me transitioning her back in, than she was about the fall.

The rest of the night was a comedy of errors. Without the comedy. We had perhaps acted a little hastily, and weren't really ready to follow through with the loosely formed plan we were running with. At one point, Dustin may have resorted to sliding a blanket-covered two by four through the slats of her crib to form a makeshift side. I wish I was making that up. (Though I do give him points for resourcefulness. And double points for not waking me up for that round of mayhem.)

The next morning, we bought a crib-side rail (with expedited shipping), spent the afternoon researching "big kid bed" books featuring Elmo, and ultimately put the side back on in the evening. We debated the likelihood of crushing her new big girl spirit by demeaning her with the return of the baby prison bars, while hesitating about making the whole thing too big a deal, wondering if we should even acknowledge our poorly thought out tragedy.

In the end, we read her some bedtime stories as usual, and moments before putting her to bed (ahem, crib) we mumbled some sort of, "Remember how you fell out of bed last night, and that hurt, and what a bummer, well you have a crib now, so stay safe, no climbing, love you so much!" speech. She seemed to take it to heart though, as she repeated "No. Climb. The crib." a few times before nodding off. (staccato narration is how she processes rules...) And thankfully, a week later, The Night That Shall Not Be Mentioned, actually hasn't been mentioned. And more importantly, there have been no more thumps in the night.

Oh Piper. If you haven't figured it out bu now, you certainly will soon: Your father and I have no idea what we're doing. We managed to make it through the baby stage semi-unscathed, but everyday in parenting is still an adventure. It's the blind leading the blind, except the blind leaders are expected to at least pretend to see. We're supposed to have it all together, and shepherd you through life's challenges wisely and safely. But clearly...we miss the mark sometimes. Thankfully it's been without disastrous consequences thus far, but as our first born, you're unfortunately our guinea pig. Hopefully our hard-headed guinea pig. I'm praying God blessed you with a big old noggin to give your brain a bit more wiggle room to slosh around in there when we inevitably mess you up. Right now it's a toddler bed, but soon you'll be off to school, and then a teenager, and then in college, and I can pretty much assure you we'll have no more of a clue then than we do now. And your father just might pull out that blanket wrapped two-by-four again...at least when you start to date. Forgive us as we fumble through this. We'll try not to be the cause of your falls, but in any case, we'll rush to your side every time we hear the faintest thump. Because our knowledge is decidedly limited. But our love for you is infinite.

In sickness and in health

On Tuesday morning (at 9:10 to be exact) I got a call from daycare saying Piper was throwing up, and this, needed to go home immediately. I called Dustin, we flipped a metaphorical coin, and it was decided he would go get her. (Aka- he has sick days, and is able to deal with vomit. I don't, and can't. So he wins/loses.) 

So while Dustin was covering the house in towels and trying to placate the patient with nonstop Sesame Street, I was left to do my daily grind, with an extra layer of worry heaped on top. Fin still isn't eating much at daycare (more on that another day...long story short- sister doesn't care for a bottle), and I'm still finding my work "sea legs", adjusting to a new office and the demands of our busiest season after being out of the game for 3 months. Our stress level was already at a high (which has become the new baseline), and wasn't helped by the fact I've been fighting (and losing) a nasty cold for a week. 

The pressures were mounting, and I started to feel like I was drowning. Eventually a straw fell on the camel hump of my terrible day, and I texted Dustin to tell him. His response:

So, yeah. We've seen better days. 

Somehow we both made it through. I used the ride home to call my mom to vent, and voice-to-text a working-mom friend a long winded panic attack about how we were going to manage this large, messy life. I fed a sleepy baby (who actually had her best eating day to date. Thank heavens for not-so-small miracles.) Piper was on the upswing and Dustin and I took turns sneaking bites of makeshift dinners in the kitchen to avoid making her jealous. Or sick. 

The night actually wasn't much worse than usual, with the exception of the point when the baby crying/my incessant hacking woke up Piper and Dustin had to spend 40 minutes soothing her back to sleep. (I estimate the time because though I was awake too, I've long lost track of when the middle of the night feedings occur, generally referring to anything between the hours of 2 and 5 as "dark o'clock"). I had an early morning that I was dreading (we had already decided that Dustin would stay home again to get her through the 24 hour quarantine daycare requires) and I learned the hard way that "do not disturb" mode on my phone will cancel my alarm clock. 

It's the combination of big and little crisises like this that lead to me posting Facebook statuses like this:

(And at that point, the day was still young!)

Somehow we made it through Tuesday, and the considerably less wild, but still not awesome Wednesday. Dustin kept the netflix on repeat, and I continued to drink cough syrup like I was Little Wayne. And by the time I got home last night things were looking up. We ate dinner as a family, (Piper practiced her burrito rolling skills, and I managed to not drip any taco sauce on Fin's head while she nursed.) and then headed upstairs for bathtime. 

Piper has been going through a "I hate the bath" phase recently, so we've had to bribe her a bit to get her in. I had the bright idea to tell her she and Fin could take a bath together (all things involving Fin, or selling the "helpful big sister" angle typically go over well with Pips) and while Piper wasn't entirely sold on the situation, I was (Fin desperately needed a bath too) and had her stripped down before Dustin could question if this was smart. 

My strategy was to put Fin into her bumbo seat so she could splash her feet and keep Piper company. What I didn't count on was the bumbo floating (it is a giant piece of foam.) Dustin did his best to stabilize it by getting as much air out of the bottom as possible, but in the end it was still more of a bum shaped raft than a chair. But I could not be deterred. I plopped Finny in, supporting her only-barely-ready-for-the-bumbo head, and declared it family bath time. And what followed was the five cutest minutes in my recent memory. 

(Note: no need to email me about the danger of this idea. Our eyes and hands 

weren't off of her for an instant. Except for when we let Piper watch her. 

Kidding.)

This is not a great photo. But the moment it captures I will cherish for a lifetime. As I looked at my two girls, splashing around in their birthday suits, I realized this was what we wanted. When we wanted two kids, when we found out it was another girl, these were the moments we had in mind. It latest only a few minutes, because it was after all, a pretty terrible idea, but in that brief time my heart was full. I looked at Dustin while we leaned over the porcelain edge and held our girls, and I kissed his shoulder and told him I loved him. And that we were actually going to make it. 

If Tuesday was a nightmare, then Wednesday evening was a dream. Not the "it was so weird, our car could talk and the streets were made of chocolate" kind, but a "real life glimpse of our plans and wishes coming true" kind. In a sea of  responsibilities, fiascos, and mistakes, this evening was my bum-shaped raft. Not perfect, but not a bad ride, and a glimpse of even better times to come.