Circle of Friends

Mommy lesson #2 - get a posse. You need people to have your back.

Grace was born in the cold, dark month of December. The days were short, the nights were long and the weather was typical New England - cold and snowy. I was hormonal, tired and lonely. I know...how can you possible be lonely when you are never actually alone. It is crazy but SO true. Being a new mother is incredibly lonely. It is you and a little butterball who yells at you (a lot) and demands your undivided attention.

I heard about these "new moms groups" that were really popular. I SOOOO didn't need that! I was young, hip and I had plenty of friends. I thought, who needs to join a group to make friends?

Oh yeah...this girl right here does.

So I was pretty crazy after I had Grace. Hormones were raging and tears were flowing. My doctor suggested I try a new moms group to have people to talk to. I was hesistant. I couldn't do ANYTHING without bursting into tears. Did I really want to get in front of a group of women I didn't know and lose my shit? Well, no...but I am pretty sure at this point, my husband was going to pack my bags and send me to the looney bin, so I had to give it a try.

The group met in the basement of a health club. I walked through a GYM, with fit and healthy and beautiful people. I was lugging a car seat with a newborn baby, sporting dirty hair, a flabby belly and a puke stained shirt. Yeah...this wasn't going well so far. I walked in to find a circle of women sitting on the floor with their infants.

I guess the best way to decribe it is this: picture an AA meeting. But instead of having an alcohol problem, you have a baby problem. "Hi, my name is Jill and I have a six week old." When it was my turn to talk, I was asked "Anything you want to talk about or ask, Jill?"

"Ummm, yeah....how the hell do you all take a shower???"

And then I heard the most brilliant thing that has ever come out of another human being's mouth...

"Just bring the bouncy seat into the bathroom. The warm room, the sound of the water and your voice will keep her calm."

I am a college educated woman...you mean to tell me I had to join a freakin' club to figure this out...but that is the beauty of it. The women there understand you are temporarily brain dead...and they are here to help. And they don't jusdge your puke stained shirt or greasy hair (well outwardly, anyway).

There was talking, laughing, crying. We chatted and fed our babies, drank coffee and found a refuge. Other people felt the same way I did...and actually had logical ideas. Child rearing, and keeping your sanity was actually a possibility. Glimmers of hope shone. Hallelujah!

I am still friends with all these women. Our children (who are now 2 and 3) still play together, and we still bounce ideas off each other. And it is totally the best place to bitch about how hard your week has been, or how your kid is driving you crazy. Misery most certainly does love company!
Oh...and it makes the playground SO much more tolerable when you have an adult to talk to!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Yesterday I drove by an orphanage. I saw kids in hand me down coats, kicking around a ball, laughing. It made me tear up. Those poor babies just want what every kid wants...love and affection. It made me give my own babies a little extra squeeze that night. How lucky are we? No matter what, my kids have a loving family. People who love them and care for them.

Today I am sitting here, looking at my beautiful family. The family that I made. I am thankful for every second I have with them. A few things I cherish the most these days:

- Baby belly laughs

- Tears, because I am the lucky one who gets to kiss them away

- Big gummy smiles from Patrick (especially first thing in the morning)

- Chubby baby thighs

-Watching Grace have an "aha moment" (not to quote Oprah or anything)

- Black leotards, pink tights and white ballet slippers...because they just look so freaking cute on my girl.

- Coffee and wine, or as I like to call it...mommy fuel

- My baby carrier...without you, what the hell would I do with that kid??

- Sesame street...you guarantee me at least one hour of peace.

- Facebook...need I say more

I am trying to remember to take every day as it comes. I am slowing down and enjoying my babies while they are still babies. The laundry and dishes can wait. Soon enough, my kids aren't going to want me around like they do now. They will grow and flourish. They will have friends and significant others. They will be standing on their own two feet. And that's OK...it means I have done my job. But I want to make sure I have as many happy memories of their childhood as I possibly can, so I can hold onto these times.

There's my words of wisdom for the day.

Now go eat some turkey! And wear your stretchy pants, for the love of God.

Holy Shit (and various other bodily fluids)

Have you any idea how many bodily fluids I come in contact with on a daily basis???

Between my career as a nurse and my life as a mother, things gets pretty messy. At the end of any given day, you can tell exactly what my kids have eaten by the stain patterns of my clothes. I generally don't even bother putting any effort into getting dressed these days. Partly because by the time I have dressed the kids, I am so exhausted I could give a rat's ass about how I look. But also because I know that within thirty seconds of getting dressed I will be likely be sporting puke, shit and pee stains.

I am totally OK with this. I know it is one of those parts of motherhood that is rarely talked about (I mean...why would you WANT to talk about it??). But I will say, when I see a mother walking around in expensive clothes, a coach bag, and her hair actually washed, all I can think to myself is "Bitch...who you kiddin? You know you are getting slimed at some point today anyway. Why bother? Face it...you no longer live in the world of the hip and fashionable, or even people how enjoy a daily shower." But I guess that is kind of jaded right?

So just to give you an idea of how messy a job motherhood actually is, here are a few true life scenarios I have encountered:

* A few weekends back, my sister was babysitting for me in the morning so I could sleep after working the night shift. I kid you not...literally thirty seconds after being awake I was covered in Cheeto fingerprints from Grace and puke from Patrick. My sister was amazed...and a little appalled I suspect.

* One time I realized I was tracking poop through my house. It was on my sneakers. No, I had not stepped in dog poop as one would suspect. I had accidentally, somehow stepped in a dirty diaper. I was tracking Patrick poop around the house. I know it sounds weird. but other moms can back me up on this...I know it.

* I have actually picked my kids nose. If I see a bat in the cave, I can't just in good conscience leave it there!

* I became obsessed over my kids pooping habits when Grace was just a baby suffering from constipation issues (I am sure that ten years from now, she will be thrilled I blogged about her bowel habits. I am considering it payback for the terrible twos.) Because of this obsession, you can generally hear a conversation like this in my house on most days "Did Grace poop today? What did it look like?" And yup...this is totally a conversation over dinner.

* One day, I changed SIX poopy diapers in thirty minutes. My children took turns pooping, getting changed, pooping, getting changed. They were totally conspiring against me. To which I very rationally exclaimed "THIS BETTER BE IT...NEXT KID TO POOP CHANGES THEMSELVES"

* OK, seriously...I couldn't make this up!!! In the time it has taken me to write this blog, Grace has pooped twice.

Even more interesting to me...the loss of inhibition you have over dealing with OTHER kids various excrement. I have wiped other kids boogies, changed diapers, been puked on. When you are in a group of moms and kids, the crowd develops the "everyone just dive in and help out" mentality. Really, whether it's your kid or not... poop is poop, puke is puke. Wise words to live by.

Would You Rather?

Remember this fun game? Would you rather eat a bug or a worm? Be eaten by a shark or drown? All these bizarre scenarios are thrown out there and you have to decide which is the lesser of two evils. I am pretty sure it was a popular college game...when you were drunk...or maybe that was just my friends.

Anyway, the point to all this is that I heard an interesting new version of this game the other day. I like to think of it as "Would You Rather - Mommy Version". 

While at a playgroup with some awesome mamas and a whole bunch of toddlers, I heard one of my friends say she had to go have a root canal that day. "Oh no, that sucks! I am so sorry". Her response - "It's OK. At least I will get a few moments of peace."

That's right, folks. You read it right. She would rather have a drill taken to her teeth than give up her chance for a tantrum free, question free, nobody is hanging on my leg begging for something hour to herself. 

And you know what...I TOTALLY GET IT!!!

I am willing to bet that if you asked any mother to go to the grocery store at peak time, go to the dentist,  go get a pap smear, sit through a lecture on some boring topic....she would do it, without hesitation, and probably with a big freakin' smile on her face. 

She knows that this mean she will have at least an hour of "mommy time" Kid free, blissful alone time. Doesn't matter where it happens or under what circumstances. We don't need a spa, we will settle for a dentist chair. 

I remember that before kids, certain tasks were considered a chore - Going to work, going to the gym, grocery shopping. Now I consider all of these things FUN!! And RELAXING!! 

So next time you see a woman sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office or dentist office, skipping down the aisle pushing a grocery cart, or standing in the longest line in the world with the biggest smile on her face...you don't have to ask...yes she really is THAT happy...and now you know why. I just let you in on one of the secrets to surviving mommyhood.

Holy Tantrum, Batman

We are all being held captive these days by a tiny dictator and her nasty little temper.

Grace has been a pretty mellow kid. Sure, we had the occasional meltdown, a time out here or there. But I had it all in check. I had the easiest kid in the whole world. I was super mom.

Stupid, stupid woman...

A few weeks ago the beast was unleashed without warning. I have no idea what prompted it. When I talk to my other mommy friends about this, I get this as an answer:

"Yeah, right before they turn three, they get really difficult. Three was a lot harder than two."

WELL GIVE A SISTER A HEAD'S UP, PEOPLE!!!

Really, there should be a formal warning label attached to all toddlers..."PROCEED WITH CAUTION."

So here is how it all went down...

I am sitting on the couch holding Patrick. Grace is playing on the floor. Everything is peachy. Grace decides to throw a shoe.

"Grace, don't throw your shoe. You could hurt somebody."

Grace looks at me, picks up the other shoe, and throws it.

Oh no you didn't, little girl.

"Grace, you are going to sit on the step for not listening."

KAAABBBBOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!

I watch as my sweet baby girl screams, yells, cries, stomps.  She is put in her room. Pat and I stare at each other. Disbelief and I think a little terror in our eyes. So the plan of attack: to come out of her room, she has to say sorry. Yeah, that's right...I went Supernanny on her ass.

I open the door. She is sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, tear streaked face. I feel my heart break. But I know I am right.

"Grace, you threw a shoe after I told you not to. You were not listening so you had to go into time out. You need to say sorry to mama for not listening and then you can come out of your room."

"No."

*blink, blink*

WHAT?!?!? Seriously...was not expecting that. Shit. Now I have to keep doing this! So I shut the door. She melts down again. 5 minutes later, I go in requesting an apology for her bad behavior and I get nothing.

This goes on for 45 minutes.

The girl is nothing if not persistent.

Anyhoo, that was my first experience with a toddler tirade. And they have continued. It absolutely sucks knowing you are going to go ten rounds with a person you can never win with. Because as much as I hate to see her being fresh, I freakin' HATE disciplining her.

I totally know that it is a necessary evil. And believe me, I do not want a monster on my hands. But when I see her upset, my first reaction will always be to comfort her. Now to act against that instinct is torturous for me. But I am doing it...for the greater good and for the sake of all people who will ever have to deal with my daughter in the future. I mean, the whole point to this parenting thing is to raise a decent human being, right??

I think the other hard part is the embarassment. The gawks of strangers (or even not strangers) while your kid explodes like a landmine. In my earlier years, Kidless Jill was totally guilty of judging people whose kids acted out in public. I will admit it now. I used to think to myself "Don't let that brat get away with it." If I could, I would go back in time and slap Kidless Jill right in the mouth...foolish girl.

If only I knew that one day I would be one of these poor, tired, beaten down parents who are just trying to walk the fine line between doing the best by their kids and keeping what's left of their own sanity.

I don't like to be a Debbie Downer, so I will say, that Grace is still mostly a joy. She is still warm, loving, polite and sweet. She will crawl up in my lap at least once a day to tell me she loves me. And happily, I have found Halloween candy to be a great bribe for good behavior.

So for now, I am proudly sticking to my guns, taking each day as it comes, enjoying the times with my sweet baby Grace, constantly trying to ward off her evil twin...and drinking wine (lots and lots of wine).

If breast is best, then I guess I'm taking the silver medal

One of the most stressful things in the first few weeks of my new role as a mother was breastfeeding. And mind you...I teach other people how to do this for a living.

One of the first questions they ask you prenatally - "Do you plan on breastfeeding?" My response "I'll give it a try and see how it goes." Being an OB nurse I know full well that breastfeeding isn't easy. There are a lot of factors that have to fall into place. I said that I would give it a try, and not stress if it didn't work.

WRONG!

My hormones raged, my baby wouldn't latch and my world fell apart. What the hell was wrong with me?? It was so incredibly frustrating, and I was failing at my first task as a mother.

Oh, and I am not just talking about the first time around. This same scenario happened after Patrick was born. I'll admit it, I don't like to admit defeat.

 I spent two weeks sitting in a chair, every two hours, begging my baby to latch. She cried. I cried. I pumped. She stared at my boob and if she could talk, she absolutely would have said "And what the hell do you expect me to do with THAT?!"

Sounds like a lot of fun, right?

Anyhoo...after a few weeks and a lot of tears, I reluctantly gave up the breastfeeding (with both of my kids) and they were happily bottlefed. Grace was rarely sick. She was smart, bright, funny, well adjusted and loved me. Formula, indeed had not permanently damaged her.  And with Patrick, well, so far so good.

You see, it is baby formula. Nutritious, well balanced, and NOT rat poison as some would have you assume.

I know a lot of people say that they get grief for breastfeeding in public. And I totally get that. I am sure breastfeeding mothers get stares and snickers. But people should realize that as a bottlefeeding mom, I can also feel judgemental glares coming my way when I pull out my baby's drink of choice.

Truth be told, as mothers we all get a lot of unwarranted advice and judgement. However...

Happy mothers = happy babies. We are all just trying to keep our babies happy and healthy in the best way we know how. What works for one family, does not work for another.

I have forgiven myself for not breastfeeding. And I know now that bottlefeeding was the right choice for me.

All's Fair in Love and Sleep Deprivation

Mommy lesson #2 - Nothing said between the hours of 11pm and 4am counts. No, you are not allowed to bring up anything said or done during this time and pick a fight the next morning.  It's off limits. 

Yes, indeed, we know full well here in the Bunker house that sleep deprivation can make you say and do some not so pleasant things. Being jolted from sleep by a little screaming ball of anger who wants to be fed NOW would make any normally rational person just a tad bit loco. I have been so tired some nights, that I have actually found myself standing in the middle of the kitchen only to scratch my head and wonder "what the hell am I here for again? Oh right...the dictator demands food."

When Grace was a baby and still getting up in the middle of the night, Pat and I would actually lay there and try to convince each other that it was the other's turn to get up. Yup...we would spend as much time arguing about who should get up and feed the baby as it would have probably taken to just get up and do it already. I didn't say it was mature, or even logical...but it was the middle of the FREAKING night.

I really shouldn't bitch and whine too much. Grace was a great sleeper. She was sleeping through the night around 10 weeks. Most of my mommy friends would look a little homicidal when I told them this information (again, there is the irrational reaction of a sleep deprived person..see a theme developing here?). But my little Patrick is a different story. He is about to be four months old and we are still getting up just about every three or four hours to feed. I feel bad for myself just writing it.

I know, I know. He is still little. And frankly, I have to hand it to the dude. He is ALL business in the middle of the night. He cries and whines until we go get him. He doesn't even bother to open his eyes, he drains the bottle and is back to sleep. He's got an appetite. He's definitely our boy.  Plus, no matter how much it sucks to get up, the kid is just so freaking cute that kissing that little face makes it all worth it.

Although, that face would be just as cute in the morning after a solid eight hours of sleep. Just sayin'...

Getting up during the night this time around is a little easier. Maybe we lost our will to fight each other in the middle of the night. Maybe we just knew what to expect, or that we are used to less sleep now anyway. I mean, before I had Grace I could sleep for 14 hours straight and not bat an eye. I one hundred percent admit I am a girl who likes my sleep (and doesn't do too well without it.) Just ask my husband.

But this too shall pass. And we will all sleep again...please God.

Mommy Guilt

Does the guilt ever go away??

One of the most surprising things to me as a mother is the amount of guilt you carry around on any given day. I have decided there are just not enough hours in the day, not enough hands to get things done, not enough arms to carry both of my children and all their paraphanelia at once (although, by God, I do try). When I am at work, I feel guilty that I am not with my kids. If I get out for an afternoon by myself, or a dinner out with friends, I cannot help but feel like I should be home with my kids. When I am playing with Grace, I feel bad about not giving Patrick enough attention. If I am holding Patrick, I feel like I am not giving Grace what she needs. Can you see where I am going with this?

I can't frickin' win!

I am pretty sure that the guilt is born right along with the new baby. From that moment they pop out, you are doomed to feel inadequate. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating...but only a little.

As a logical woman, I know my kids are happy and well taken care of. They are loved and cuddled and played with. I guess it is just the fact that having children is such an awesome responsibility. Try to wrap your head around that fact that you are totally and completely responsible for the well being of a person. Whether that person thrives or not is totally on your shoulders. You are expected to teach, feed, bathe, discipline, teach right from wrong...oh yeah, and keep them up to date on their shots (which believe me, is a job all unto itself). Oh, and then throw in the fact that you get ONE SHOT to get it all right...

No pressure or anything.

No wonder feelings of inadequacy surface. Who has more pressure than that in their everyday life?? I am not even convinced Obama has to deal with that kind of stress. He has a staff to help him with his responsibilities. Where's my staff?? Huh??

Seriously now, I think maybe the mommy guilt has it benefits. Feeling the guilt keeps you in touch with just how important this mothering job is. It means you are just a little scared of screwing this up. And, frankly, who wouldn't be?

They grow up TOO fast!

Pat (the hubster) and I have an ongoing argument...he is under the impression that I am having a hard time letting Grace grow up. pppffffttt...please!!! Me?? Having a hard time letting my baby grow up?? Well...maybe just a little.

This argument all stems from the fact that I still let Grace have her pacifier. Yeah...there I said it...I am a softie and I let my almost three year old use her pacifier.

Pat's brilliant idea is that we just take it away, cold turkey. And according to him, just have a few "hard days".

Understatement of the CENTURY. Yeah, OK. It all seems easy. Just take away her crutch, her prize possession. Listen to her whine and protest and then GO TO WORK. You won't have to listen to these whines and protests ALL day. So as I have very politely informed him, you are more than welcome to stay home and accomplish this goal, otherwise...back off, pal. We are in survival mode!

Alright, alright...let me explain. I do not let her roam around with a paci in her mouth when we are out and about. She needs the paci and her little lovey blanket to sleep. She has had them since she was only a few weeks old. When she started talking, some of her first words were "paci and moo?" Moo - is the name of that lovey blanket. Moo is actually a pink giraffe who was originally thought to be a cow (hence the name "Moo"). Also, although it is pink, Grace insists Moo is a boy. A pink boy giraffe named "Moo". Poor bastard has a serious identity crisis. But I digress.

Anyhoo, I guess I have just not had the energy or the heart to take away her beloved paci. It was the original plan that it would be taken away when she turned two. But by her second birthday I was in the throes of pregnancy and all the misery that comes with a first trimester. So did I want to listen to a screaming fit of rage? Absolutely not. I was a little busy growing a person...my bad.

In my defense, my pediatrician and the pediatric dentist BOTH told me not to worry about ditching the pacifier and that she would get rid of it when she was ready. My pediatrician actually said "Don't worry, Jill. She won't go to college using a pacifier." Nice thought, doc. But you haven't met Gracie.

I did try to enforce the "you can only have your paci in your bed" rule. I felt like I was living with a miniature crack addict. I would find her sitting on her bed taking a hit of her paci all throughout the day. I also found pacis stashed all over my house, in her toyboxes, behind couch cushions, behind my TV. And then I realized it. At the ripe old age of two, she was a perfect candidate for the show Intervention.

So it's not just about the paci (it never is, right?) Do you think it's a bad sign that whenever I think about sending her to preschool next year I throw up in my mouth a little?

Mind you, it is only October. I basically have a whole year to get acclimated to this idea. And maybe by next year I will feel differently. But right now, just the thought of her going to SCHOOL makes me ache on the inside.

I guess I will blame it on my personality, which is admittedly (slightly) type A. But the thought of leaving her with strangers, and trusting them to take care of her like I do is unbearable. I have been the one there EVERY day, for her whole life. I know what she likes and dislikes. I know how her little sensitive heart is broken way too easily. I am the one who can just take a glance at her and know exactly what she needs. How could I possible trust someone who just met her to do the same. Being away from her and not knowing what she is doing, who she is with, how she is feeling is too foreign a concept for me to even grasp.

And yet, I know that she is growing up. I see it in her sweet little face. She is losing her "baby" look. She is turning into a gorgeous little girl. I see it in her interactions with other people, and how well she can speak for herself, think for herself. Of course I want to raise a daughter who can stand on her own two feet. And I know she will.

So I guess, the way I see it is that she still is a baby. She is MY baby. She will be 20 years old and still be my baby. And in each part of her life, I am sure there will be new ways I "baby" her. I think to myself, she is only two. We'll get rid of that paci, and I will send her off to school. But for now, I think we will just stay the course. I only get this very short window of opportunity to have her all to myself, before I have to send her out and share her with the world.

And when I do...look out world, you have NO idea what you are up against. Consider yourself warned.

Scenes from a Car

These days, I call my car a torture chamber on wheels.

Generally my mornings consist of planning, packing, dressing and tears (mine mostly). We get piled in the car after 4 hours of preparation and head off to our daily activity. I am already exhausted, but not my kids...they are ready to go.

Patrick starts screaming the minute we strap him into the car seat. I have tried pacifiers, toys, opening his window, different music on the radio, static on the radio and basically anything short of steering with my feet so I can reach into the back and help this poor little creature. The kid just hates the car. I have come to accept it. Hey, we all have our things.

And my Grace is a talker. I love her for it. But being trapped in a small box with a two year old who would talk to the wall if it would answer her back just adds to the torture.

Here we are all strapped in and ready to go:

Patrick is screaming

Grace: "Mama, 'member last morning when I got a boo boo on my knee?"

Me: "yes, Grace, I do."

Grace: "It's almost all better. See?"

Me: "Yes, its almost better. I see."

Grace: "No, you didn't look, Mama."

Me: "Well, I can't look right now, Grace. Mama's driving."

Grace: "Why?"

Me: "It's not safe to take my eyes off the road."

Grace: "Why not?"

Me: "Because we could crash."

Grace: "Then we would have to go to dat hospital where you work?"

Me: "Yup."

Patrick screams have gone from "I am not really digging this car seat" to "If someone doesn't come get me outta here, there will be hell to pay."

Grace: "Mama, can I have a snack?"

Me: "Sure."

I reach in to my bag, fumbling around. Finding everything except the friggin' goldfish I know are in there SOMEWHERE.

Me: "Here you go, Grace. Don't spill them."

Grace: "OK, mom. I won't."

Patrick is still screaming. Throwing an absolute hissy fit. I am starting to twitch.

Grace: "Uh oh, mom. I spilled them."

Me: "Oooooof course you did."

Grace: "Are you mad at me?"

Me: "No, Grace. Accidents happen."

Grace: "Sorry, Mama."

Me: "Grace, how about you listen to your songs and relax"

Now, we have Patrick screaming, Raffi blaring and Grace singing.  It's the perfect trifecta.

Grace is starting to ramble about something, and I am trying to zone out and go to my happy place.

Grace: "Mama, are you listening to me????"

Me: "Yup."

Grace: "I don't dink you are. You're fibbing."

 Me: "How about I give you your paci and you take a little snooze."

Don't judge, people. Yeah, so she still has a paci. Desperate times, my friends. Desperate times.

Wait...what is this?!?!

~Quiet.~

 Has it really happened?! Have they both fallen asleep?!

HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! I can actually hear choirs of angels singing.

As we pull into the driveway, I am almost giddy with the thought of getting them both down for naps. I could actually eat a sandwich with BOTH hands and maybe even throw in a load of laundry in peace (I know, I know...the things mothers wish for).

And then it happens...

a series of tiny little sneezes from the car seat. I close my eyes and say a little prayer. But despite my pleas to the big guy upstairss, Grace's eyes fling open.

Grace: "Mama, I'm not tired. I want to watch TV. I want to eat lunch with you. No more naps. It's day time. Did you hear Patrick sneezing? Maybe he has a lil' cold. I had a lil' cold last morning. Mama, why are you banging your head on da wheel?"

The Beginning

In December 2007, I gave birth to my first child, a beautiful baby girl. And my world was turned upside down.

My world was absolutely R - O - C - K - E - D.

Most new moms can understand this. Everything is so incredibly intense in those first few weeks. The love you never knew was possible, the "mama bear instinct" (as I like to call it) that comes out of nowhere, the sleep deprivation that would drive even the sanest person a little crazy...oh yeah, and did I mention the hormones?

Mommy lesson # 1 - Never underestimate the power of hormones.

As a little background on me, I am 29 years old.  I am a part time OB nurse. I love my job! But I am more in love with my family. In 2006 I married my high school sweetheart. Pat is a warm, caring and all around swell guy! Oh yeah...and he's pretty easy on the eyes too. Yup, I married a looker.

Once we were married, I knew I wanted babies, and luckily, my guy was right on board. So we did...well, what you are supposed to do to get a baby. And six months later...

We were pregnant!!

I suffered through pregnancy as every woman does (and those of you who say pregnancy is "easy" are LYING! But that is another blog entry for another time) and waited, and waited and waited. I thought I would be pregnant forever. But then in the early morning hours of December 1st, 2007...

Along came Grace! A little girl who would teach me a world of lessons (among the biggest being patience)

Grace is a girl's girl (with a capital G). Famous for her bouncing curls. Loves princesses, anything sparkly, dancing, singing and drinkable yogurt. She is great company and most days I feel like she is a lot smarter than I am. 

Two years later, we forgot ourselves, and did it all again. On July 2nd, 2010 along came baby brother...

Patrick!!

A super cuddly, busy boy. Hates the car (getting in the car these days makes me  die a little on the inside, knowing I will spend the next however many minutes listening to this kid scream as though he were being speared by hot pokers). But he loves snuggles, his activity gym, when mama blows raspberries, Elmo and his sister. Learning to use his voice and make his place known in this family. 

So there you have it. The cast of characters. Let the hilarity ensue...