Good news, Bad news.

The Good news: Ella started Kindergarten, and all is well. She loves her class, loves school, loves having lunch at school, and I love having one kid outta the house for four hours a day.

The Bad News: She didn't let me take one picture of her on her first day. Not. One. "Mommmm, not now." "No, Mommy. don't take pictures." And because the last thing I want is to push a first-time kindergartener into a meltdown on her first day, I didn't. And I just KNOW I'm gonna be sorry.

Marching forward

Whether I approve or not, my kids are growing up. Ella starts kindergarten tomorrow. And we'll have to say goodbye to that "baby" part of her. Even as she was in preschool last year, it was as if every new thing she learned, as her vocabulary expanded, as her view of the world widened, her little innocent face changed. She went from a naive baby girl to a grown, independent, young girl. And while I know I should be proud that she can spell small words, and add numbers, and understands the world in a more complex way, I just can't help but be sad to say goodbye to the baby phase of her life. After all, she's my first. My first baby. Having her changed my life, changed who I am. And to see her move on to a new phase just rips my heart out. I often want to stop time, to just stay right here, rolling around in bed on a Saturday morning watching silly cartoons with Ella laying next to me, Noah climbing all over us, and Ivan still half asleep. I feel this urgent push toward a day when my kids don't want me to kiss them in public, when they don't pick up their cell phone when I call. And I just can't handle that. Okay, maybe it's the pregnancy hormones raging through me, but it's true. How do we do this? How do we sit back and let these moments end, without a fight? How do we let the inevitable happen?

I'm not sure yet.
But I'll keep you posted.

Shameless Self Promotion

Well I've launched my new photography website, so go visit it and think of me when you have any photography needs!

Intuitive Images

We're still here.

I'm terrible at updating, apparently.

Turns out, with a five year old at home for summer vacation, a one year old who sleeps in our bed and can't stop nursing, and being five months pregnant, I don't get time to sit at the computer like I want to. I don't even get the dishes done. Who'da thunk?

Well, we're in full pregnancy swing over here. Mood swings, cravings, no sleep, bathroom breaks, everything. And we're also expecting... another boy. Wait, that didn't sound excited. ... ANOTHER BOOOOY!!!!! WOOHOO!!!!

Just typing that sentence made me tired.

I must say, as this pregnancy was a complete surprise, I've had to make an effort to really get on board with having another kid. And now, another boy? Noah has now reached the age where the differences between boys and girls are glaringly apparent. Mainly, he likes to hit things, climb things, and the word "no" means absolutely nothing to him. Toys are uninteresting- remote controls and Dad's shoes, and tools, and punching walls are all much better options than that little plastic thing with the flashing lights. Yesterday, Noah got two baths. One for a dog poop crisis, one for a paint can disaster. I won't go into details, but it was insane. And the whole time, I just kept thinking, "There are going to be TWO of these. And they're going to conspire together." I suddenly feel outnumbered and a bit helpless.

And, after that crazy day, and my exhaustion, and the multiple baths, and the cleaning a pint of brown paint off the floor and moldings, I put him to sleep. And he was quiet. And beautiful. And amazing.

And I suddenly didn't mind that he would have a little brother, a best friend. Someone to stay up and tell scary stories to, to share things with, to protect and love.

I think we'll be okay.

But I may not sleep for another couple years..... so don't make fun of my hair.

The Fam.....

FIVE!!!!

... more info to come...

In this corner...

Well, Noah will be a year old this Sunday. I can't even believe how fast time is flying by. And suddenly I look at him, and he's so grown up already. What happened to my little baby? When he's asleep at night, I whisper to him that he's not allowed to get any older. That he must stop growing and changing. So far, he hasn't listened.

He's not walking independently yet. But here's the thing: he actually can. He can stand alone. He can take steps alone. But when he sees where he's going, he realizes he can get there faster by just crawling, so he sits and crawls. He'll hold a hand or a finger and walk around like that, but without assistance, he just doesn't see the benefit. He'll get there. He also doesn't really see the need to eat real food, when boob is readily available. Sure, he can take a few bites of rice or chicken or veggies, but not much. Why should he, when Mom is right there??? I guess he'll get there too when he's ready. He knows what a cow says ("mmmmoooooooo"), loves pattycake (because he gets to clap and hit things), and STILL LOVES BOXING. What is it with this kid? He has an obsession with boxing, the speedbag, watching boxing on tv, watching other people hot the bag or hit the mitts. I mean, if EVER a sport was in someone's blood, it's in his. He's been obsessed since 6 months old. Ivan is so proud. and Jose Luis can't wait to start training him. All I know is, he better be good, cause if anyone messes up that face, they're gonna have to deal with ME.

Mother's Day Gift Ideas

I think for this Mother's Day, I'm gonna give myself... permission to not feel guilt.

I am a good mom. Getting some of the laundry done is okay. We've never been without clean clothes to wear. My kids KNOW that I love them. Yes, I need to mop. But the sticky handprints on the walls mean that someone was having (unsupervised) fun.

No, my hair's not done. Yes, I look like I haven't slept in weeks. And no, I don't care. Why? Hear that sound? That's my kids laughing in the other room. (and the sound of a lamp crashing to the floor. but hey, there's laughter about that, too.)

I might not be the best wife. I might not be the best friend. or daughter. or sister. But when it comes to being solely responsible for someone else's life and development and happiness, that's gonna trump everything else around me. Sorry.

And each and every day, I do the little bit that I can. It's not profound, or beautiful, or grand. It's real. I really did just pick up dog poop, wipe a butt, wash everyone's hands, wash the dishes, pull a crayon out of a mouth, kiss a bump on the forehead, sing the alphabet song, nurse the baby, scream when he bit me, laugh when he laughed, apologize for not having time to read a story, re-stock the toilet paper, wipe another butt, and microwave leftovers. And every day, I struggle with the longer list of things that don't get done. The "didn't" list. And the fact that that list grows in multiples of three daily starts to chip away at my emotional stability. I can feel the tears well up sometimes. I feel my sens of humor slipping through my fingers. I can feel the sleep deprivation in my joints. I can see my unmanicured nails and unshaved legs.

But, I think for this Mother's Day, I'm going to give myself a moment to breathe, and do my best to forget about the "didn't" list for just a day.